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Bucky's eating habits were perfectly fine.
It was Steve that was wrong.
He was eating enough, for his metabolism at least. Back in HYDRA, he was lucky to get a scrap of food every few days. A meal (and maybe a snack) was definitely enough.
Sure, Steve was right that he was still transitioning out of HYDRA habits- when an order was spoken he couldn't help but obey it without thinking (everybody had agreed that non-demanding voices and words were to be used around him- it made him feel terrible to have rules set in place to avoid triggering him, but it was for the greater good. If he hurt any one of the people in the compound...he would never forgive himself), the water in his showers had to be steaming hot so it didn't remind him of the "showers" HYDRA gave him (which was from a hose with freezing cold water being aimed directly at him) and sometimes he had to be told that he wasn't speaking English and instead was just muttering various Russian words.
But his eating? That was okay.
"What if…" Steve said one day, fingers tapping against the kitchen counter. "...we find something you really like to eat? Maybe you'd remember then?"
"I don't forget." He corrected him. "I eat enough."
Steve sighed.
"Three peanut-butter sandwiches a day is not enough." He insisted, shaking his head. Bucky knew he was a pain in the ass, but Steve being disappointed in him still hurt. Steve was the only thing he remembered from his past life- it wasn't many memories, but enough to know how much Steve meant to him.
"For me, it is." He said again, getting up from sitting at the kitchen table and heading towards his room.
"Buck, you're getting malnourished again."
Bucky stopped in his tracks.
When he first snapped out of the brainwashing- dragging Steve's limp body out of the Potomac and onto the bank of the river, he'd stayed for a bit too long, just looking at Steve. Looking at his bashed in face, knowing that he had done it. He swore if anybody hurt Steve, he'd hurt them right back.
But it was him who hurt Steve this time, and he couldn't make it better.
He stayed too long- ambulances soon arrived to rescue the unconscious Captain America and they took Bucky with them.
He was handcuffed to a hospital bed for a week. They said he was severely malnourished and his metal arm caused so much strain on his shoulder that the tissue was beginning to become damaged.
They removed the arm to avoid any further damage, and was transferred after a week to Wakanda- back under cyro under the Princess's care.
She removed the trigger words, made him a new arm that weighted less on his shoulder and was also removable.
A month after he dragged Steve out of the Potomac, he was assigned to stay at the Compound so he could be watched via Stark's AI.
At the hospital, they'd given him large doses of the nutrition he was lacking via an IV, which was a terrible experience he never wanted to repeat.
So fine. Steve was pulling the fear card now.
"I can take you to the medbay right now- they're hook you up, give you the nutrition solution again-"
"No." Bucky said through gritted teeth, probably far too harsh.
Steve locked eyes with Bucky, knowing exactly what he was doing.
"I'm sorry." He said, walking towards Bucky with his arms up in submission- like he was afraid of Bucky. "I shouldn't have threatened that. But I am worried. And I am serious about the malnourishment."
Bucky wanted to curl into a ball and cry.
He didn't know why.
Something was itching at the back of his mind- a memory, maybe, mimicking this exact situation, except reversed. Bucky, hair short and hands blistered from working at the docks all day, and Steve, sickly and small and eyes sunken in. Bucky, telling Steve that he needs to eat, and that the money doesn't matter. Steve, insisting he's eating enough.
It ended with Bucky making Steve pasta and sitting him down for a long, filling meal.
And by the look in Steve's eyes, he was about to do the same thing.
The role-reversal nearly had him reeling.
Steve swallowed, hard. "You remember?" He asked, voice shaking.
Bucky sighed, taking steady breaths in and out of his nose. At least it was a somewhat pleasant memory. He'd had memories return to him from HYDRA time, and they left him feeling uncoordinated and disoriented for days on end.
"Yeah." Bucky replied after a long bough of silence. "I think I do."
Steve smiled gently.
"Do you have an idea what I can make for dinner?" He asked quietly, almost as if it was a test to see if Bucky actually remembered, or if he was faking it for Steve's sake.
"Pasta?" Bucky said, sounding unsure. He didn't want to get the answer wrong. If he got the answer wrong he got punished-
He pushed those thoughts away.
This was not HYDRA.
This was Steve.
Steve is safe.
Steve just continued smiling.
"'course, Buck. Would you like penne or spaghetti?" Steve asked, looking into the cupboard to grab the materials.
Bucky swallowed.
In the memory, he had made Steve penne, simply because the market had a sale on it. But Bucky really wasn't feeling like eating a bunch of slippery tubes covered in sauce and butter- plus, Spaghetti was easier to eat as fast as he could, just to get the meal over with.
"Penne is the correct answer." Bucky spat out, sounding like a machine.
Steve raised an eyebrow in his direction.
"There's no right answer. It's whatever you want." Steve said, and Bucky sighed.
"I…prefer spaghetti. Right now. If that's okay." He was about to add another sentence trying not to sound so demeaning, when Steve held his hand out to signal him to be quiet.
"Spaghetti it is." Steve reached into the cupboard and pulled out the spaghetti box, before taking out a large pot to boil the water in.
Bucky went to take a shower while Steve made the food. He would never say he was grateful to get another meal that day, but his stomach growling said it for him.
He turned the water temperature in the shower to just a little right of the hottest setting, making it just a tiny, tiny bit cooler.
He was still adjusting, transitioning back to being normal, or as normal as he'll ever get.
It was slow progress so far, but it was progress.
He heard Steve finish up with dinner as he finished off his shower, quickly getting himself dressed in fleece pajamas- he usually only wore them when he was alone and needed comfort, but...he felt like wearing them now. They were having eight pm dinner, after all.
Steve smiled again when he saw Bucky, scooping a large plate of spaghetti out for him and setting it on the table, where two places were set.
Bucky sighed.
He's getting used to it.
He's getting used to being a human again, even if it was only bit by bit.