Chapter Text
Harry James was both Bucky and Steve's favourite artist. From the 1940's, that was (these days, they disagreed on the best music a bit more). The other avengers had bought Steve an iPod full of tracks from his day when he was found on the beach. And when Bucky had joined them, it had become his, too.
Of course, he could just get his own. They could buy him one. But he liked sharing it with Steve- it gave him comfort. So the others, by silent rule, didn't suggest he got his own. Steve acted like he didn't mind, but they knew that wasn't true- he didn't just not mind, he loved it.
Besides, if they were listening together, they were less likely to force the others to listen.
In Stark towers, things could sometimes get a bit crowded, for both of them. And it was just so very modern. Sometimes, they needed to shut themselves away with music from the forties and just pretend they were back there.
Sometimes.
They had jazz on there too, which they listened too almost as often as Harry James.
That's what they were doing that day.
Aside from Sam (who, alongside Bucky, was a new recruit for the team of Avengers) and Natasha, none of the others were there that day. Thor was... Doing whatever Thor did when he was in Asgard. Bruce was visiting India, where he had been working before being recruited. Tony was away with Pepper. Clint was training someplace- not that he needed it. Even Fury was 100% unlikely to stop by- he was spending every day of his life at the moment building some new S.H.I.E.L.D.- one with a different name, and that wasn't infested by Hydra, of course.
They were lucky that there hadn't been any real trouble recently- certainly nothing the other agents couldn't sort out. Steve wouldn't dare voice it, but he had no idea what would happen if something big came along- most of them were spread across the globe and those who weren't had two new avengers to break in.
Sam was fine. He'd been here before- okay, maybe not here, in Avengers' Tower, but he'd worked as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. He was getting back into things easily and had proved he could handle it by helping them already on such a huge mission.
Bucky, however...
Bucky was fragile. At times temperamental. He'd have nightmares almost every night. Despite the fact that he had been appointed a bedroom almost immediately, he slept in Steve's room, in Steve's bed. And not even Tony made comments about it, because everyone knew how tough things were for both Steve and Bucky, particularly in those times.
Sometimes, Bucky would go back into The Winter Soldier mode. He didn't as such attack anyone, but he simply forgot who everyone was, and started asking for missions or offering mission reports. He thought they were the ones doing it to him in those times and it broke Steve's heart more than Bucky attacking him ever could.
Steve had no idea how Bucky would respond to an actual mission, actual combat. He was terrified that it would regress him, turn him back into The Winter Soldier. He couldn't let that happen. He hadn't even remembered everything yet.
So for now, Steve was glad they were able to take it slowly. Listen to music they both loved. Eat their old favourite foods. Go to places they went before, do things they used to do. Dance.
Laugh.
Doing this things brought the memories back to Bucky, and whenever he remembered anything it was a joy to Steve. Bucky's face would light up like a little kid and he'd run to Steve.
“Steve! I- I remember. We were kids. Sitting on the steps outside your house after Church on a Sunday, eating ice cream. I never believed what they said in the services and I'd always try and make you laugh. You told me I was being disrespectful every time but I didn't stop doing it. You secretly found it funny.”
“Steve! When we were nineteen, you had a date. You were going to take a girl dancing with me and double date- I was seeing a girl called Linda. But I upset her and she didn't want to go, so I spent the night pestering you and the girl- Helen. She ended up dancing with me. I'm sorry about that, Steve.”
“Steve! At the lake when we were twelve! You, me and Russell, Barbara, Dale. I threw Russell in the lake fully clothed and when he got out again he knew he couldn't throw me in, so he pushed you, instead. You started choking. I pulled you out and punched him in the face and you laughed and said that by that logic, I should be punched too. So I said 'go on then', and you pulled yourself up off the ground and tapped my nose as gentle as you could, then helped Russell up.”
The memories came in random orders. They were often obscure- occasionally, Steve himself needed Bucky's reminder in order to recall them. And Bucky still hadn't remembered the most important thing. But he would. In time.
For now, they'd continue to have days like this. They were sat on the couch flicking through old photos- anything Steve had been able to get his hands on that showed some aspect of Bucky's life- and listening to the iPod playlist titled 'Jazz'. Every so often, Steve would pause from the photos to say something like “you loved this song.” More often, he let Bucky remember for himself.
“What the hell is this?” Steve glanced up as he heard a teasing male voice from the doorway. Sam stood there, looking sleepy (despite the fact that it was eleven o'clock in the morning), frowning slightly but grinning more. “The old men listening to their tunes?”
Steve chuckled slightly, clearing photos from a chair and sweeping them onto the coffee table so that Sam could sit down.
Just then, the bathroom door opened. Natasha had been taking a shower, and Sam and Bucky both raised their eyebrows as steam flooded into the hall. Steve looked uncomfortable at the sight of Natasha wearing just a towel- and not exactly the world's largest towel, either.
“Are we having a Lets-Embarrass-Steve session? I'll be out in five minutes...” she smirks, disappearing into her room.
“Right, like you can get dressed in five minutes, Romanoff!” Bucky called back, his tone teasing, a grin spread across his face. Steve looked at him, surprised. Bucky was usually so reserved with the other avengers, even Natasha, who he'd instantly liked. The only exception was Sam, who he could occasionally joke with (and Steve, of course).
“I'm a spy, Barnes, I think I'll manage!”
“You were a woman before you were a spy, though,” Bucky teased, earning a high-five from Sam, before he added, more seriously, “Although I don't doubt you can do anything you set your mind to.”
“Is that a compliment I hear, Barnes,” Natasha asked, sauntering from her room calmly in black skinny jeans and a tank top, her hair loose and tousled, still wet but no longer dripping.
“One minute three seconds,” Steve smiled.
“Not bad...” Sam added.
Natasha leant over and picked up a photograph from the messy stack, holding back a laugh. She turned it round to show Steve.
“So this was you before you became all God Bless America?” she grinned.
“Yes, that was me before the serum,” Steve sighed, rolling his eyes but laughing internally. He handed Bucky a picture.
“Steve, that was the guy who gave you the place in the army, gave you the treatment. We were sort of arguing- I'd tried to set you up with someone- still apologising for Helen years later- but she'd ignored you, then we'd had a bit of an argument about you joining. He was there. Next time I see him he's yelling that there's a grenade and everyone runs except you. You throw yourself over it, determined to save as many of us as possible, even if it sacrifices you. He threw it, fake grenade, to check you were the One,” Bucky looks pleased with himself. “I never saw him after you were given the serum, though...”
“Yeah,” Steve said quietly. “Someone shot him. A couple of minutes after I was given the serum.”
“Oh,” Bucky muttered back, placing the photo more carefully, aligning it with the edge of the table and away from the mess of the other pictures. Steve smiled gratefully.
“So, on more cheerful thoughts, you mentioned dancing, right?” Sam smiled over-enthusiastically, sensing the need for something to be said to break the silence. “What kind of dancing did you do, though I'm almost afraid to ask?”
“Well-” Steve began, before Bucky interrupted.
“Why don't we teach you?” he offered enthusiastically. “It's really not that hard, I promise...”
“Can you remember, Buck?” Steve asked doubtfully, hopeful that Bucky could. He'd never mentioned knowing how to dance, although occasionally there were things he remembered without actively noticing he knew them.
“Sure I can. Nat?” Bucky offered, standing up and extending his metal arm towards the red-haired woman, who took it as though there was nothing strange at all, earning a nod from Steve.
“Guess I'm stuck with you them,” Sam joked as he got up. Steve chuckled as he mimicked Bucky and Natasha.
“Right...” Bucky muttered, his tongue sticking out slightly in concentration.