Chapter Text
The first week of living with Bucky was proving okay, he liked to keep to himself mainly, which Stella was definitely not used to. Living between the Tower and the compound was definitely not a living arrangement she’d called private, sure she could disappear to her floor in the Tower and her suite in the the compound, but someone always busted in uninvited.
But Bucky, he didn’t. He’d ask her if it was okay to sit with her, or start cooking in the kitchen- at least fifteen times a day she’d have to remind him it was his house too, he didn’t need to ask permission for anything, though he never broke the habit.
He liked to cook for her though, and he was good, she’d asked him where he learnt and he said within the two years he’d been in hiding. He didn’t have much else to do, so he taught himself to cook, or retaught himself, he said he wasn’t exactly sure.
Bucky wasn’t exactly sure on much, which always broke Stella a little bit, the only thing he was always certain of, when he was in the right frame of mind, was his name. She always had to call him Bucky, nothing else, he said it was his name before his life went to hell, and it was the name Steve bought him back with.
There were little things she’d noticed, like his inability to leave the plants, they both had a tree each, and Bucky liked to hide behind them. He was starting to favor her tree, which she hoped was a sign he was starting to trust her.
Then there were the big things she’d noticed, like the TV incident.
There had been a flat-screen TV in the common area of the house, Stella had put it on to watch a movie, it was only the third day in the villa, and. icky wasn’t feeling too sociable.
It was just a dumb horror movie, Stella sat watching it absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting away to Steve and how he was absolutely going to murder her, or be grateful that she was helping the man he had searched for endlessly for going on three years.
There was a loud gunshot on the TV, loud enough to make Stella jump at least, the protagonist had killed the cheesy knife murderer. Stella didn’t think much of it until Bucky came into the room holding the his tree by the pot, compost spewing out all over their tiled floors.
He threw the potted plant at the source of all the noise, the TV, it hit it with a large bang, and a splintered crack now littered the screen. It abruptly turned back and a small hissing noise began to emit from the back of the TV.
“Bucky! You killed the screen!”
“It was shooting!”
“It was a film, Bucky!”
“Sorry! I panicked!”
“You killed your tree!”
“I prefer yours anyway.”
“I preferred a working TV and look where that got me.”
“I’m really sorry, Stella.”
“You don’t like the noise of the TV?”
Bucky shook his head ashamedly, Stella thought how weird a TV would seem to him, by the time he was taken by Hydra, TV’s were barely in existence.
“That’s cool, we won’t have a TV. We don’t need it. I’ll start introducing you to some cooler modern stuff instead, maybe that can be our first task into welcoming you into the modern era. We can choose a type of media!”
“Has anyone ever told you you talk a lot?”
“Literally my whole life, and I’ve never stopped, better get used to it.”
“It’s the opposite of what I’m used to.”
“Good. Now, tell me, Bucky, what’s your thoughts on music? Ever heard of the Beatles?”
“Yes, it’s a bug.”
“You are going to have such a good education with me, better buckle up.”