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Natasha found him in the bathroom.
He was staring at his pale, sweaty face in the mirror with scissors in his flesh hand and she just stood there quietly. He watched a delicate eyebrow slowly climb up her forehead and he waited for her to say something. He didn't know what he would say anyway.
“And what are you planning on doing with those scissors?” she asked and he blew out a sigh. Bucky didn't really have a plan. He just had a nightmare, woke up and got angry that Clint wasn't there to reassure him. So, he stomped into the bathroom after deciding that today was the day; he was finally going to cut his hair. He was going to start fresh and not look anything like The Winter Soldier.
“Cut my hair?” he asked moodily and Natasha stepped forward, her red and blonde ombre braid laying casually across her shoulder.
“I would have accepted maiming or torturing someone, but not cutting your hair. It's 3 am, you're not in the right head space to make a big decision like that,” she said still watching him through the mirror.
“And what would you know about making hair decisions? Don't you wear wigs all of the time?” he asked, not pouting and crossing his arms across his chest. She sighed and grabbed the blonde end of her braid looking down at it.
“I usually do, but this blonde is not intentional. This blonde has been growing out since I colored it after the airport in Germany. I woke up in the middle of the night in a run down motel after a particularly nasty nightmare about my team, my family, fighting each other like rabid animals. Then I realized, oh wait, that actually happened,” she said with a sad little smile. “Turns out even soulless assassins can fall victim to emotional hair choices.”
“Natasha-” he tried to interrupt knowing his very big role in that.
“I cut it a little shorter, bought some bleach and voila I was a blonde. Did you assume it was a wig when we met back up in Wakanda?” she asked, looking back up to make eye contact. Bucky just nodded and put the scissors down. “I was emotional and so angry that I had to be on the run so I did something dumb like bleach my hair. I regretted it almost immediately and started growing it back out. Wore some wigs during the awkward phases but a lot of it grew while we were-” she cut herself off with a little cough.
He looked up to see her eyes getting a little brighter and he braced his arms on the sink to lean forward, his long hair forming a curtain in front of his face.
“I would be a terrible blonde,” he said after a few quiet moments and smirked when he heard the soft exhale of an exasperated woman.
“You would. Now come on, forget about the haircut and let's spar. We've got nothing better to do.”
“Tony made me new arrowheads to play with so I'll be with him in the lab for a bit, okay babe?” Clint said before emptying his mug of coffee and dropping it in the sink. Bucky just smiled at him as he walked forward and planted a sweet kiss on his lips, calloused fingers brushing his long hair away from his face.
“Some are practical, like ones with better grappling hooks and some are for fun, like exploding with silly putty,” Tony mused from behind his own mug of coffee and Bucky swore he saw little hearts form in Clint's eyes.
“Let's get to it Stark!” Clint urged, making his way through the communal kitchen and down the hall. He watched as Tony ran a hand through his very salt and pepper hair before disappearing around the corner. He turned back towards the counter with a thoughtful frown that Steve noticed the second he waltzed into the kitchen after his morning work out.
“What's up, Bucky?” he asked, as he reached into the fridge for some water.
“Was just thinking, why did Stark stop dying his hair and let his grays show? Figured he would be too vain for that,” he asked, apparently very curious about everyone's hair choices after his 3 am debacle with Natasha. Steve just sighed before taking a swig of his water. Bucky waited patiently as he stared into the bottle, clearly trying to figure out how to answer his question.
“I think after everything that happened in the past five years or so, he just realized that's not what's important anymore. He doesn't have to be perfect and put together to be loved or needed. He's letting everything just be, going with the flow, enjoying the moments,” he answered and he rolled his eyes when Steve got those heart eyes his own fella had for Stark five minutes ago. “And I also really really like it.”
“Of course you do, Stevie.”
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason, why did you shave your beard off?” Bucky asked, expecting some profound, deep answer like "starting over" or to "get rid of the years of exile". Steve just shrugged.
“It was fuckin' itchy.”
Of all the Avengers, Bucky did not expect Thor to change so drastically. For someone who was so boisterous and confident, he was shocked to see the state of him after things were set straight. Who could blame him though? They all had been through some things, but Thor had been through some shit. Bucky walked in to find Thor on the couch, slightly slimmer as he got back into working out with the team and yelling into the headset at what he assumed was some poor defenseless teenager just trying to build a tower for the team.
“You need to build faster!” he yelled and Bucky just grinned as he watched his little character on the screen try to scramble up the tower behind his teammate.
Bucky held his breath and watched as a rocket came barreling in from off the screen and it was too late for Thor to do anything. It hit the tower just below them and as the building collapsed, their characters fell to the ground and instantly died. Thor sat there, looking a little stunned, before ripping the headset off and flinging it onto the couch.
“No sense of battle strategy, why do I even bother!?” Thor yelled throwing his hands up.
“Well they all can't be master strategists,” Bucky mused and Thor leaned back with a grin.
“Ah Bucky! It is good to see you, did you want to play a round?” he asked holding up the controller.
“Not with this game, no. But if you're up for some Mortal Kombat?” he asked and Thor readily agreed, grabbing another controller and changing the game. Bucky hopped over the back of the couch to get comfortable and found his attention on Thor's hair, his fingers unconsciously fiddling with his own. Thor's long blonde hair was in waves past his shoulders and up in it's typical half pony tail. Wow, he really was having a complex about this hair situation. He bit his lip and before he could think about it, the question fell from his mouth.
“Do you like having your hair that long?” he asked and Thor turned towards him, his face scrunched in thought.
“I suppose I do, since I haven't cut it,” he answered and well, he wasn't sure what he was expecting but it wasn't that. “I enjoy when Natasha braids it.”
“Yeah me too,” Bucky nodded as Mortal Kombat loaded on the huge TV.
“Sometimes I want to cut it, because it reminds me of when I was a coward. It reminds me that at one point I gave up,” he said solemnly, looking off to the distance somewhere. Bucky just sat there and let him get it out, he found it rare for anyone in this compound to talk about their feelings. “Now I see it as a badge of honor, that even though I felt like nothing, I was still worthy. I am sure one day it will get tiresome but for now it fills me with joy.”
Bucky nodded and blew out a sigh. He wasn't sure his hair filled him with joy but it was definitely a security blanket. He had turned a new leaf, he was better and he felt like it was the next natural step but he was scared.
“Ooh Mortal Kombat! I face the winner next round!” Clint exclaimed, throwing himself over the same spot of the back of the couch, landing neatly in Bucky's lap. He got a face full of his messy mohawk and grinned.
“You are on, Hawkeye!”
Bucky knew that Sam was aware of him in the room but he continued to painstakingly turn the page of his book acting like he was reading when he was really waiting for Bucky to say something. He was annoying like that.
His eyes ran over Sam's buzzed head and knew he really didn't have to ask, Sam probably continued to keep it cut short because of his military background. Well, maybe he would ask; he couldn't seem to keep his curiosity at bay anymore when it came to hair issues. He let out a frustrated huff and crossed his arms, making Sam smirk just enough and leave his hand hovering over the page like he was going to turn it. He was giving Bucky an easy in.
This was going to be painful but it had to be done.
“I can't believe I'm asking you this because you don't even have any fuckin' hair,” Bucky grumbled and Sam slowly closed his book and turned towards him.
“First of all, I have hair I just shave it off because it's easier to maintain. Second, I didn't hear a question in that rude statement,” he replied and Bucky glared at him. Sam just reflected it with a grin and Bucky was resigned to his fate.
“I wanted to ask if you could maybe help me find somewhere to get my hair cut? And not just any cut, this is serious and I don't want them to fuck it up because I'm afraid of what I'll do,” Bucky let out, his eyes closed the entire time so he wouldn't see any reaction on Sam's face.
“You...want to cut your hair?” Sam asked gently and Bucky opened his eyes to see Sam's calm face just taking in the information. “You've thought about this?”
“Yeah for a few weeks now and I've pretty much interrogated everyone on their hair choices in the mean time,” Bucky sighed, dropping his arms.
“Does Clint know?” he asked and before Bucky could reply, Clint appeared out of nowhere with a mug of coffee steaming from his hands.
“Does Clint know what?” he asked and Bucky looked over at Sam and hoped that he could read the clear Please for the love of God don't on his face. Sam's eyes grew for a moment before he looked over at Clint with a grin.
“Did you know about our movie night plans? It was kind of last minute,” Sam rushed out and Bucky just smiled at him before turning it on Clint.
“Oh really? Cool! What time? What are we watching?” he asked, clearly accepting the answer without question making Bucky's chest hurt a little bit at the lie.
“Probably around 8, we'll pick when we're together like usual,” Bucky shrugged and Clint rolled his eyes.
“So we'll argue about what movies we wanna watch for half an hour and Natasha will end up actually picking it. I should go try and convince her of something good,” he mumbled into his mug before walking by, running a hand through his messy mohawk.
“So is there a reason why, out of every person here, Clint is the only one that doesn't know you want to cut your hair?” Sam asked and Bucky frowned.
“Look, just help me find someone to cut my hair, alright?” he asked crossing his arms defensively again. Sam just let out a dejected sigh and got his phone out.
“Friday? Send out a message about the impromptu movie night before Clint gets to Natasha. And find us a hairstylist. A barber will not know what to do with those luscious locks.”
“You think they're luscious Wilson?” Bucky preened and Sam chose to ignore him as he scrolled through the options Friday sent his way.
Bucky stared in the mirror, not really sure how he was feeling. He ran his metal hand through his way shorter locks; a more modern version of the short crop he wore in the 40s. It was weird to see so much of his own face on purpose, but it wasn't bad. Sam took him to a place early that morning, while Clint was still sleeping and he still didn't really know why he was keeping it from the most amazing person in his life.
He bit his lip and sighed; he knew why. He also knew it was pathetic.
He was scared Clint wouldn't like it. Clint fell in love with him while he had the long hair. And yes, Clint had seen his face before, seen everything, but after the Snap and coming back, Bucky was ready for some way to solidify him finally being himself and was tired of hiding behind the curtain.
He closed his eyes and berated himself silently for being so self conscious. He was being dumb, Clint would love whatever he decided to do. What he wouldn't love was being left out-
His thoughts were interrupted as he felt two very muscular and familiar arms wrapped around his waist. His eyes popped open and he saw Clint smiling at him as he rested his chin on his shoulder.
“Mornin' sweetheart,” Bucky rasped out, tensing in anticipation of Clint's reaction to his hair.
“Mornin' baby,” he replied simply, turning to plant a quick kiss behind his ear. “Something seems a little different in here, did you paint the bathroom while I was gone last week?” he joked and Bucky bit his lip.
“What do you think?” Bucky finally asked nervously and Clint smiled at him before slowly spinning him around to face him, his lower back leaning into the counter.
“I think it looks incredible, this cut looks amazing on you Buck. Your jawline should be illegal,” he said softly, gently running his fingers through it to mess it up a bit. Bucky gave him a small grin and rested his hands on Clint's shoulders.
“Yeah? You won't miss the long hair?” he asked and Clint chuckled, still husky with sleep.
“Oh Buck, there's still plenty to grab on to. You could have buzzed it all of and I'd think you were sexy, did you think I wouldn't like it? Buck it's you, I love you,” he said and Bucky couldn't help it, he leaned forward to give him a sweet kiss.
“I had been thinking about it for weeks and I was so nervous,” he babbled and Clint pulled him a bit closer.
“I know you have been, I'm glad you finally decided to do it,” he said and Bucky just blinked at him.
“How do you know? I didn't even mention it to you,” he said before wincing at the implication. Clint let out a sigh and gave him a wry grin.
“No, you didn't, I also know that you pretty much questioned everyone's hair choices around here,” Clint stated and Bucky covered his face with a groan.
“Yeah, Natasha found me with scissors in my hand and told me about her hair a few weeks ago and it just opened the dam to wanting to know everyone's hair story,” he said and he felt Clint's calloused fingers grab his and slowly pull them down from his now very exposed face. He was surprised to see a hurt look on Clint's face and he immediately wanted to fix it.
“Why...why didn't you ask me? About my hair choices?” he asked quietly and Bucky's brows furrowed, reaching forward to run his fingers through the bedhead-hawk.
“Because I know why, it was your sad attempt at a disguise. Why do the tall, buff blondes think that a hat or a haircut would keep anyone from recognizing their great asses and chiseled jawlines?” he teased, making Clint hold back a smile.
“Shut up! You know what I mean. You know what I did when I got this done,” he said quietly looking down at the sleeve of tattoos. “I guess I understand why you wouldn't ask, didn't want to hear about all of that horrible shit your boyfriend did while you were gone.”
“Clint I didn't ask because I was really fuckin' nervous you wouldn't like it and it seemed like such a dumb thing to ask about. It's a haircut! People do it all the time!” he said frowning at him. “You know it would never be because of that.”
Clint looked at him before looking up at his hair. He let out a sigh and gave a small smile.
“I know you wouldn't, just felt a little left out I guess,” he shrugged and Bucky squeezed him close in a hug. “And you, more than anyone now, knows that it's not just a haircut.”
Bucky looked at him for a minute, caught in an intense staring contest before Bucky grinned. It was more than a haircut, it was him becoming as much of Bucky again as he could get and it was amazing to finally be okay with that.
“Feels good, doesn't it?” Clint asked, using his uncanny ability to know what Bucky was thinking at all times.
“Yeah, it does.”