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Bucky passed the common area on his way to the kitchen and saw Clint there, chatting to one of his kids on the large screen. More like arguing really, and it was a little heated.
Bucky reached the fridge and located the orange juice, noting it was his favourite kind. Twice a week they’d get jugs of fresh squeezed juice delivered and he liked them all but the plain orange was the best. He grabbed a glass and filled it up before putting the jug away and turning to look at what was happening with Clint.
He appeared to be trying to demonstrate some kind of full body movement to his daughter and, Bucky noted as he walked closer, was receiving a lot of eyeroll.
“Daaad, oh my god. That is not how you do this. Oh, hi Bucky,” Lila said instantly changing her tone to something far friendlier as Bucky walked into view. He waved back at her.
“It actually is how I do it and you should pay attention and learn because it’s an excellent move,” Clint said and demonstrated what looked to Bucky like part of a complicated dance move. Clint’s body swayed forward and backwards as though a wave had gone through it, becoming fluid and loose and then dropped to the ground to sit cross legged but just before hitting the floor, his knees locked and he bounced up as though gravity wasn’t a thing.
“I think it’s impressive, but I don’t know what we’re talking about,” Bucky offered before taking a swig of his juice.
“See? Thank you!” Clint said to both Lila and Bucky.
“Yeah, ok. That was good,” she reluctantly conceded. “But we’re supposed to be focusing on what I can do. By tomorrow.”
“Lila’s got a TikTok challenge,” Clint said to Bucky as though that statement cleared everything up.
And it was true, Bucky was getting better at living in the present. For instance, he’d learned a lot about social media and the rules of engagement; he was equal parts fascinated and turned off by its power and the fickle nature of its users, not that he’d be dipping a toe into those waters anytime soon. He didn’t want to know what strangers thought of him any more than he already did. He’d gotten a taste of public opinion during his trial and while he had many supporters and those who were at least sympathetic to what he had endured at Hydra’s hands, there were an equal number out for his blood. It’s not like he disagreed with them but he was making an effort to not squander or disrespect the shot at a new life he’d been given and part of that was trying to stay positive.
As it was, he was only an Avenger by a technicality and mostly, it was due to Tony Stark financing his rehabilitation and reintegration. He still didn’t know why Tony had offered to do that. He’d been fed the line that a supersoldier on the right side of the law and on their team was better than one anywhere else but that didn’t explain how he’d ended up being treated so well and living at the compound with the others. He’d tried to ask Tony but they didn’t talk much.
When he’d first arrived, Bucky had approached him with the aim of apologizing for his part in the deaths of Tony’s parents. Not that anything he could say would make up for what he did but it was still necessary. Tony had tolerated Bucky’s attempt at it for less than a handful of seconds, really only until he figured out what Bucky was saying, before ushering him out of his workshop, mumbling something about things between them being fine.
Apart from that, the few times they did talk, Tony gave quick, rapid fire and glib responses, usually over his shoulder as he walked out of the room so Bucky got the message and stopped making Tony uncomfortable by trying to say anything at all unless it was Avenger’s business. The fact that Tony tolerated his existence was already more than he should ever wish for. And it wasn’t that Tony shut him out completely; he just had an indirect way of communicating with Bucky.
Like that time when Bucky, normally silent on comms when on the job unless required to speak, laughed at something Tony had said. That had been met with stunned silence for a few moments before Tony crowed that he’d broken the Silent Soldier and after that, getting a reaction out of Bucky seemed to become Tony’s objective. Bucky didn’t mind. Tony was really funny.
Then there was Bucky’s first mission as an Avenger. It was supposed to be an easy introduction where he’d use his sniper skills to cover the other Avengers if necessary. It turned out to be a clusterfuck of a mission due to bad intel and a larger number of hostiles than expected. Bucky made the decision to endanger his position in order to keep the Avengers he was covering safe and he met with a volley of smart bullets. His SHIELD issue tac suit had provided enough protection to keep him alive but it had been all but destroyed and one of the bullets had gone clean through his leg.
A few days later, while he was still recovering, Friday had asked Bucky to choose blue or red without any further explanation. A week after that, one of Tony’s bots had rolled up to his door with a delivery. It was a new soft body armour suit that was custom made to fit him perfectly. It was constructed of the latest lightweight and flexible bullet and knife stopping tech with added protection for blunt force trauma. It was black of course but there was a thin edge detail running along the sides of many of the panels in a dark blue that gave the suit a very sleek look. Bucky had never worn anything like it and he loved it. He loved it even more when he saw the snowflake printed on the inside waistband of the pants.
So, Tony might not speak to Bucky much but he still made him feel welcome in his own way and Bucky couldn’t ask for more than that.
Clint was wrapping up his call with Lila as Bruce and Steve walked in, followed by Nat, Tony and Sam a few moments later. Tony had called a meeting to discuss some fundraising efforts that he wanted the Avengers involved in, which is what had brought Bucky there.
“Hey Mini-Hawk, what’s new?” Tony asked Lila amidst the other’s greetings.
“Me and my friends are doing a dance challenge and I need a secret weapon move. Dad’s been suggesting some options.”
“Oh yeah? Had no idea you were the new Chicken Noodle Soup,” Tony said to Clint.
“I happen to have a wide range of talents,” Clint replied archly before turning back to his daughter. “Ok, kiddo, I’ll call you after and we can go over it some more.”
“Thanks dad. Bye everyone!” Lila said to a chorus of goodbyes before ending the call.
“Huh, well there’s an idea,” Tony said, still staring at the screen after it had gone dark.
“Oh no,” Bruce said with zero inflection. “I sense you aren’t going to ask us to bake cookies or pose for another calendar.”
“Correct Brucie-Bear,” Tony said spinning around to face them. “I’ve just decided we are going to do an Avenger’s dance challenge so get your dancing pants on or however you want to play this. Just keep it G rated. Fans will pick the winner,” he said while making his way over to the coffee pot in the kitchen. “It’s new, it’s fresh, we’ve never done anything like this, it’s perfect.”
The group moved to follow Tony to the kitchen while Bucky hovered on the periphery. He was sure none of this applied to him but he’d been invited to the meeting and so had come.
Tony paused a moment to fill a very large mug and then drank half of its contents in one go before continuing. “Nat, you’re in, right?”
“So long as you don’t expect to win,” she said, smirking at him.
“Challenge accepted,” he smirked back before turning to Clint. “Clint, you’re in, obviously, with your…” Tony loosely gestured in Clint’s direction while searching for the words. “Panoply of talents.”
“How did you make that sound like an insult?” Clint grumbled but Tony ignored him, having already moved on.
“You,” he said, zeroing in on Bucky at the back of the room and piercing him with an intense look, “have a documented ability to dance.”
Bucky’s eyes went wide and his jaw slack as he felt his stomach plummet. “What?” he said weakly, scrambling for a way to say “Hell no!” without actually saying that. “I can’t…That’s. No. I don’t even remember how,” he finished pathetically. All he had was hope that Tony would remember that Bucky was completely unsuitable to be a public figure although how Tony had forgotten was beyond him. He couldn’t believe this conversation was happening. There was no way he could do this.
Then Steve opened his unhelpful, traitorous mouth. “Bucky loved to dance! He was a real shincracker. Any chance he got, he’d be going to the halls,” he said. “Funny thing is, that reputation Buck has in the history books as a ladies’ man? It was mostly just him needing dancing partners.” Which was true but Steve really needed to shut his yap right now.
Bucky then watched with escalating horror as Steve’s expression changed and signalled a transition to serious mode as he turned to face Bucky. His next words were spoken in the voice he sometimes deployed when talking to Bucky like he was trying to win over a feral animal. It drove Bucky nuts. “You probably have muscle memory for those dances and just need to practice a bit and it’ll all come back. Like riding a bicycle. Just give it a try? This might be really good for you Buck.”
Bucky tore his gaze away from Steve and saw that everyone in the room had eyes on him and the ensuing silence was unbearable. He couldn’t see any way out of this where he held on to some shred of hard-won dignity. To go running from the room like he really wanted would look like regression and he’d just been approved for an assessment and therapy downgrade to only once a month.
He flicked his gaze to meet Tony’s briefly before shrugging and staring hard into the dregs of his orange juice. “It’s your charity’s funeral,” he mumbled before being hit by instant regret over his word choice. Casually mentioning funerals around Tony was probably something he should never do.
There was a beat more silence and then Tony’s voice filled room again. “Great, that settles it. You’re in Barnes. Steve, I assume you’ve got some grandpa moves to break out?” Tony asked, moving on quickly as though the life Bucky had been working hard to reclaim hadn’t just been flushed down the toilet.
Bucky didn’t hear much else as he tried to tamp down his rising panic at the thought of ruining Tony’s charity efforts with his bad reputation, being a social media disaster and wondering if it was even possible to have muscle memory for the Jitterbug. He didn’t want to refuse Tony anything and he wouldn’t, if it was within the realm of possibility. This was the first time Tony had asked him for anything - why did it have to be something he couldn’t and shouldn’t do?
“Ok, so give me and the media team a few days to put this together. I think we’ll do elimination rounds to stretch this out and build more support. Additional info coming your way but aim to have the first vid ready in a week and let’s do 30 seconds. Include the audio, people. You’re in this to win this. Actually, let’s sweeten the pot. In addition to bragging rights, the winner gets whatever they want, within reason. Up to say, 50k.”
Sam let out a low whistle. “If Steve wins, maybe he can get a dozen more identical pairs of tan slacks.”
“I have two pairs Sam. It was a Bogo, you know that. You were there,” Steve reminded. “And they’re called khakis.”
“The better option is clearly 50K worth of pizza.” Clint said.
Someone made a retching sound while Natasha rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t live long enough to see your next birthday.”
“What a way to go though.”
“Since you’re funding this, what do you get if you win?” Bruce asked Tony.
Clint snorted and Tony narrowed his eyes at him. “Seriously? Are you doubting my ability to dance, you craven pizza fiend?”
“Absolutely not,” Clint replied with a smirk. “There is no doubt whatsoever. Nuh-uh.”
Tony glared at Clint long enough to make it awkward before continuing. “Nick’s Global Shipping and Import in Jersey,” he said decisively.
“You’ve been denying yourself the pleasure of shipping from Jersey?” Sam asked.
“No, it’s the tacos.” A room full of raised eyebrows prompted him to go on. “Haven’t been in years and I don’t know if they still do it but it’s a family thing they’d run on Tuesdays. It takes 2 days to make the birria filling and then they set up in the parking lot to fry the tacos. Describing them won’t do justice to the experience of eating one. You wouldn’t understand,” Tony waved dismissively.
“That does sound like it could be good,” Sam agreed. “Although not as good as more pairs of tan slacks.”
Later, Bucky sat on his bed, head in his hands, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. This was a phenomenally bad idea. He couldn’t believe Tony would want him and his bad reputation within one thousand feet of the charity fundraiser. Then there was the whole social media aspect. He knew enough about cancel culture and SJWs to fear it. He already had plenty of detractors and even though he felt they were justified in their outrage, he didn’t want his involvement to eclipse the fundraising efforts or detract from the purpose of the charity. He really had no business asking for anyone’s support or votes.
But Tony had asked him to do it and he wouldn’t refuse to at least try.
To be honest, he’d been waiting for Tony to ask him to leave and he was surprised to still be living at the compound, all expenses paid, as though he was an equally contributing member of the team. He kept a packed go-bag in the closet in case he wore out his welcome but with each passing month, he managed to believe this was his home just a little bit more.
Bucky sighed. Well, he’d agreed. He didn’t promise good results and with that thought realized he was setting a very low bar for himself. It was probably a good place to start though as the task seemed overwhelming. He knew that a ten-year-old could put this behind them in less than an hour but it looked like he was going to be losing sleep for a week.
“Friday?” he asked, head still in his hands. He no longer looking to the ceiling as he once had when talking to her. Watching Tony carry on conversations with Friday as though she was omnipresent had rubbed off on him. “If I manage to remember how to dance, can you help me with the technical part – the editing and upload? For Tony’s charity project.”
“Of course, Bucky. I’d be happy to help. We can do it together or I can attempt an edit pass first if you like.”
It almost sounded like Friday was genuinely interested but he was maybe reading into her modulation too much. “Thank you,” he said, feeling a lot of gratitude. Some of the pressure eased then and he silently wondered how people could live without a Friday. She was amazing.
She helped him pick out some swing tracks he remembered dancing to by Cab Calloway, Glen Miller and Benny Goodman and he started relearning how to move to music. It was really hard at first. It turned out that his body did in fact remember some of what to do but he had trouble keeping the tempo. It felt as though he was dancing under water and the drag made it impossible to keep to time. Friday helpfully slowed playback to half speed so he could practice the footwork more easily, over and over until he was able to stop thinking about where to put his feet and arms and just feel the music. Since he wasn’t doing a partnered dance, he borrowed some steps from the Jitterbug and Lindy Hop and the other styles he knew and improvising, tried to put them together in a way that flowed well. He practiced for hours every day, throwing all of his free time at it and by the end of the week, he felt more confident. It wasn’t great but it wasn’t terrible and just getting to that point felt pretty good. Really good actually.
To make the video, he propped his Starkphone up on the desk in his room and after several attempts, recorded a pass which looked about as good as it was going to get. Friday trimmed it down to one 30 second section and, with his approval, uploaded it for the media team to handle. Bucky then breathed a big sigh of relief. He’d tried and that was all he could do. It had turned out to be fun too and it gave him a bit of that remembered thrill and exhilaration he’d get from dancing back in the day and he resolved to keep up with it.
Steve had been pretty secretive about his own contribution but he’d checked in with Bucky every day to give him support and cheer him on. Seeing Steve’s wide and proud grin when Bucky finished made him realize this effort really had been good for him just as Steve had predicted, the annoying punk.
When the videos were all posted, the day the contest went live, Bucky checked out Steve’s first. He laughed when he saw Steve had played up the old man angle and had on a pair of the tan slacks, canvas slip-on sneakers and a beige cardigan under a navy windbreaker. He did a respectable old man shuffle to a Duke Ellington tune Bucky loved. Steve was never a big dancer but seeing him shimmy around with his bemused smile, occasionally laughing at himself, made Bucky want to give him all the votes if he could.
Next was Wanda. She was in Sokovia with Vision on a rebuilding mission but had wanted to support Tony’s initiative. Her clip included several men and women dressed in colourful Sokovian folkloric costumes, teaching Wanda a traditional dance. There was much laughing as she struggled to copy them and it looked like they were having fun.
Vision had also submitted a video and in his clip, he had tried to follow a dance step guide that was on the floor and succeeded although he couldn’t come close to matching the rhythm of the chosen music. Or stay on the ground. Or on the correct side of the nearby wall. He looked completely unconcerned with his failure however.
Bruce chose to do an instructional video where he taught the nuances of how to perform The Sprinkler in a very serious professorial tone before demonstrating earnestly and with the goofiest expression. Bucky was surprised into laughing out loud at the antics of the normally subdued man.
Clint was dancing to 80’s music and rather well, throwing in a couple of impressive acrobatic moves. Bucky gave him points for his shiny purple pants, the cut off shirt displaying the “Amazing Gun Show,” which was how Tony referred to Clint’s biceps, and the metallic fringe party curtain he was dancing in front of.
Next was Natasha gracefully showcasing her ballet skills to a classical piece. She did a pirouette and an arabesque and several other positions Bucky didn’t know the names of. They were executed with the precision she carried out all her work with, which he’d characterize as deadly competence. She did finish with her trademark smirk in place, which humanized her flawless performance. He figured she might be the one to win if the votes reflected only skill and not the other aspects that came into play such as personality or fan favourites.
Sam had shown Bucky his moves earlier that week - he’d referred to his dancing as part house and part freestyle not that Bucky had known what that meant before looking it up. He’d since learned it could incorporate many genres and was largely improvised, meaning, Sam was doing whatever he wanted and he did it well. His easy going nature was evident in his unselfconscious and unhurried approach to moving his body.
Bucky saved Tony’s clip for last. In it, he was immaculately groomed as usual when doing anything public and was wearing red tinted sunglasses and one of his perfectly tailored suits accented by sharp looking shoes. Tony was staring intently at the camera over his glasses most of the time and doing some low-key disco moves which involved a lot of complicated arm movements. Bucky figured it didn’t matter what Tony did, he was always going to look effortlessly cool.
When Bucky had first arrived at the compound, he’d spent some time getting to know his teammates, mostly by doing background checks because he hadn't been too social at the time. With Tony that meant watching a lot of media clips and reading articles. He’d come to appreciate Tony’s talent for controlling a room, keeping the upper hand and always, always, being the cool one. Additionally, he'd learned a lot more personal stuff about Tony than he'd intended but Tony's private life was well documented and the details were unavoidable as the public's interest never waned. Bucky had come across several articles that were of special interest to him, such as the time Tony had been caught on camera by paparazzi making out with a guy and he'd famously referred to himself as "rated E for everyone."
He watched Tony’s clip three more times before catching himself grinning like an idiot. He put the tablet down and forced himself to walk away. The votes and comments were starting to trickle in and he’d probably be tempted to check his own if he kept staring at it and he wanted to retain his good mood.
Bucky more or less successfully put it out of his mind for the week and was reading in his room one evening when Friday informed him the votes were all in for round one.
“Ok, give it to me straight. Did I get any?” he asked. Bucky had arbitrarily decided that if he got 10 votes from strangers not connected with the Avengers, he’d be happy with that.
“Yes, you have received 5829 votes putting you in 4th place behind Boss, Ms. Romanov and Mr. Wilson which means you will advance to the next round. Congratulations. Mr. Barton and Mr. Banner have also advanced.”
Bucky didn’t doubt his hearing but that was not what he’d expected. At all. “Uh, ok,” he said slowly wondering what to ask. “What about comments? What’s the breakdown between positive and negative?” Voters were only able to vote once each round but comments were left open without restrictions for now, as far as Bucky was aware. He fully expected and accepted that an avalanche of hate would be directed at him, moderated as it must be.
Friday took a little while to answer and Bucky was just as surprised when she did. “Overwhelmingly positive at 72%. 20% are negative and the rest are undecided or not specific.”
“What commonalities do the negative ones have?” Bucky assumed they would be referring to his days as the Winter Soldier but he was always thorough with data analysis.
“There are some that refer to the court case or your association with Hydra but they comprise only 28% of the total negative comments. 21% wished for your hair to be shorter and 4% wished for your hair to be longer and 2% criticized you for not braiding it,” Friday said over Bucky’s incredulous bark of laughter. “41% of the negative comments however, refer to your room.”
“My room?” What the hell? Bucky couldn’t even guess. “What do they say?”
“There is criticism of the décor. Or, lack of it to be more accurate.”
Ok, Bucky knew his space was as impersonal and sterile as a beige hotel room. Looking around just now, the only personal items visible were the book he was reading, his phone and a tablet on the desk. His closet held his clothes and gear but beyond that, there was nothing. No pictures, no bric-a-brac, no plants. The bed covers were even the same as when he’d arrived. There was nothing that would make it his home. He’d preferred the minimalist approach for a time - it gave him a certain sense of peace as though he’d regarded the things that might tether him to a place as anchors, weighing him down. He’d preferred to be ready to cut and run at a moment’s notice but, he wasn’t so sure that sentiment still applied. He’d gotten used to seeing it this way though.
“Why would anyone care?” he wondered.
“Inconclusive but I have two theories based on aggregate data from social media sites and peer reviewed scholarship on the topic of sociology within the social media framework. The first is that the dance competition is a spectacle and as such, viewers are expecting more production. The second possibility is that the audience wants more access to you.”
“Meaning?”
“The influencers on many of the popular platforms post not only images of themselves but also things they like or buy, where they travel and where they live and who they know. These posts allow viewers to piece together a narrative and get a more comprehensive idea of the poster’s personality, fabricated for digital consumption as it may be. It’s a one-sided type of friendship or familiarity.”
“I’m not decoratin’ for a dance competition,” Bucky protested. He might think about getting a plant in the near future but he was going to do it when he wanted. “Besides, that wouldn’t be authentic and I don’t care about getting likes.”
“Many popular videos are filmed in non-personal locations that are either aesthetically or geographically interesting. It would still show a choice you made. You might consider that approach for the next entry.”
That sounded doable. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“Yes,” Friday replied instantly. “I’ve sent them to your tablet.”
Bucky walked over to his desk and picked it up, flipping through images that he recognized from in and around the compound. He stopped on one that was a striking shot of a hallway. To one side there were large concrete pillars going down the length of it. There were windows between each, not visible in the photo but the cast light made strong geometric shapes on the pillars and floor. It looked like something that belonged in a contemporary art gallery or museum.
“This is nice but isn’t it pretentious? I mean, what would I be doing there?”
“The compound is where you live Bucky. Additionally, the design references the Soviet Brutalist architectural period which loosely ties in with your history.”
Ok that was a stretch but Bucky had to hand it to Friday for exploiting the option. He shrugged. “Sure, ok. Thanks for the assist Friday, appreciate it.” If it was too much, he always had his soulless and plantless room to fall back on.
“May I make a suggestion regarding the music for round two?” Friday asked before continuing at Bucky’s affirmative grunt as he continued to study the photo. “If you want to increase your competitive edge, you might consider something different.”
“Swing is all I really know how to dance unless you’re talking the waltz or something like that,” Bucky said. “There isn’t enough time to learn anything new.”
“Have you heard of Electro Swing?”
He hadn’t and was curious what Friday had in mind. “No, tell me about it.”
“It’s a contemporary style of swing that mixes samples with electronic music. There are many sub genres to choose from and the beats per minute range from 96 to 175 based on what I could identify within the genre. If you could manage to increase your tempo from where it was in the first round at 80 to a mid range in electro swing, it would allow you to showcase your footwork skills even more. The contemporary music would keep things fresh and interesting for voters.”
“Could you show me an example?” Bucky continued to be impressed by Friday. He didn’t think he’d ever get to this point on his own. In fact, he knew he wouldn’t have.
Friday opened a video on Bucky’s tablet that featured a young man dancing on his own to a faced paced song. It started with familiar piano chords and evolved to incorporate drums, bass, looped vocals and synthesized sounds. The dancer’s feet were flying in an impressive display of crossovers, weight transfers, slides, lightning fast heel turns, step ups and kicks while his arms emphasised or complimented the movements fluidly.
Bucky shook his head, amazed. “I like that you think I can do it but this kind of thing takes a lot of practice Friday.”
“While there are several movements in the example that you haven’t demonstrated yet, the rest you already know. They are just performed faster. That was 125 bpm but you have the entire week to learn,” she said without a trace of irony.
Bucky laughed and rolled his eyes. “A whole week, eh?”
“No time like the present to start! Shake a leg,” Friday said sounding much too chipper.
“I’m being bullied is what I am,” Bucky grumbled, already knowing he was going to go along with Friday’s scheme.
“I can project the body positions for the new steps three dimensionally if it would help.”
And that’s how Bucky found himself inside of a virtual armature, matching foot and arm positions inside of Friday’s light projections and learning them at a quarter of the speed until the movements became fluid and easier to replicate.
Friday sent him a selection of possible songs and he picked one called All Night Long which he thought was fitting because he practiced all night long all week. And all day too. It was ridiculous. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to prove, putting so much effort into this. Part of it was not wanting to disappoint Tony and another part was wanting to succeed for Friday. She seemed so oddly invested and had an unusual amount of faith in his abilities and had spent so much time working through this with him. The other part, he had to admit, was that he loved it. Having it all come back was a thrill and with every new thing he learned and in such a short time period that made it easy to measure improvement, it just felt like one win after another and he was kind of hooked. It had been a really long time since he’d felt any sense of accomplishment that was unrelated to being an efficient and ruthless weapon.
A week later the finished video was uploaded by Friday after she’d edited it into a slick 30 second segment. He’d chosen to wear black jeans and a black t-shirt and it worked well against the graphic patterns of light in the hallway behind him. All put together it somehow seemed to look better and more dramatic and artful than he felt it actually was but he wasn’t going to argue that.
He looked at the competition once everyone’s clips were uploaded. Bruce’s second round entry was similar to his first except that he’d chosen to teach and demonstrate the Worm this time. While still ridiculous and funny, Bucky thought the repetition might get him voted out.
Clint was being a disaster in his clip, not that it was his fault. He’d injured his ankle on their last mission and was on leave while it healed so it was nice that he’d done the video anyway but he wasn’t able to do too much competitive dancing with a crutch. Points for effort though! And for finding a purple headband and sweat cuffs. Bucky liked his commitment and decided it was possible his fans would too so he couldn’t be counted out.
Natasha had upped her difficulty level and switched to contemporary ballet paired with a haunting instrumental piece. The twists and arches she moved through were both brutal in their impossibility and graceful; the control she had over her body was incredible and if there was any fairness in the voting, she’d be moving on to the last round.
Sam dressed up for this round in a breezy shirt and stylish pants and did another low key and smooth dance to a popular classic track. Bucky wasn’t sure if it was ‘more’ enough to push him through to the last round but it was good.
And then there was Tony. He was dancing on his cars in his workshop that he’d probably never let the public see before. As far as the cult of personality went, nobody was going to top that.
Like the previous round, Bucky didn’t keep track of the votes or read the comments. He did look at the other’s clips again and in Tony’s case, he looked at it more than a few times but that was in the spirit of competition. Or something. He also kept practicing, not that he thought he had a chance for the final round but because he wanted to make dancing a regular part of his life again. He’d also been researching newer dance styles and found quite a few referenced or borrowed from what he knew. Toprocking borrowed from the Lindy Hop and it looked like something he could do with a bit of practice and time to define a style. He liked that so many of the new dance styles were open to modification.
“I’m not wearin’ a braid Friday,” Bucky grumbled mutinously as he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror.
“How about a man bun then?”
“Friday!”
“There’s nothing wrong with giving your fans a little something – it’s a tactical move that can enhance your popularity and generate more votes.”
“But that’s cheating. It’s not who I am.”
“It is not cheating. You’re taking advantage of the data you have access to and not making claims of any kind,” Friday said primly.
“What universe am I in that I even have fans?” Bucky asked, shaking his head. He was still having trouble believing that he’d made it to the third round along with Tony and Natasha. And that Friday’s next game plan involved styling his hair. This maybe posed a problem.
“Friday, why are you helping me?”
“It’s my job to be of assistance.”
“Yeah, but you’re going above and beyond. It’s like you want me to win this. Ya got a competitive streak?”
“Yes I do. We will crush the competition.”
Bucky laughed. “Nothin’ wrong with that but I feel like it’s not right for me to get your help against Tony. Seems like a conflict of interest.”
“Would you like me to check with Boss?”
Bucky would hate to lose Friday’s help but he’d hate it even more if it bothered Tony in any way. “Would you?” Bucky asked, walking out of the bathroom to look for his sleep pants under the covers on his bed.
Less than a minute later Tony’s voice rang out from Friday’s speakers. “What’s up Cold Stuff? Fri told me you have ethical concerns.”
Bucky had a flash of panic as he struggled to get his pajama pants up before assuring himself it was only a voice call. Friday wouldn’t do that to him. “Yeah, I wanted to check with you about Friday helping me with the contest. Are you ok with that? I mean I’m competing against you.”
There was a moment of silence before Tony replied. “Two things about what you just said. Thing one; nice of you to ask. You’re now my favourite Avenger besides me. Congratulations. Thing two; Friday is the most advanced AI in the world and no one here, apart from you, has leveraged that. I like smart people.”
Bucky’s cheeks warmed at the compliment and he was glad Tony couldn’t see him.
“Make no mistake though, you’re still going down to loser town,” Tony said with no inflection as though stating an indisputable fact.
“We’ll see,” Bucky said, trying to hide his grin even though Tony couldn’t see. “Friday’s on my side.”
“Oh, it’s on,” Tony shot back before hanging up only to call back a moment later. “Were we done? I felt like we were done. I may have been told, very rarely mind you, that’s something I might want to work on.”
Bucky laughed. “Yeah, I’m good, thanks Tony. Have a good night but not so good that you dance better.”
Tony barked out what sounded like a surprised laugh. “Night Buckaroo.”
Bucky sat on his bed for a few minutes afterwards and realized he was doing that grinning thing again. He had to admit to himself that he had it pretty bad for Tony. This wasn’t the time for unrealistic daydreams however. He needed a mission plan. “Ok Fri. Time to bring out the big guns. Whadaya got?”
And that’s how Bucky ended up with a video of himself dancing on the compound rooftop in the early morning, his figure a near silhouette with the rising sun glinting off his arm. The landscape around the complex, where it wasn’t touched by the sun’s light was still deep in blue shadows but the windows of the compound glittered pale gold and the sky was streaked with incredible orange clouds.
Friday controlled three different camera drones and the final edit included a few dynamic shots that really helped give the clip a sense of place. Mostly though, the video focused on Bucky and his dancing. He’d choreographed his dance this time and incorporated the new things he’d learned. This was the first one where he felt like it was maybe a little good.
Bucky had boggled at Natasha’s entry. He didn’t know she could dance like that. He didn’t know those moves were even possible. She had to be popping her joints to contort her body that way. The dance was contemporary and labelled street style in the tags. She moved as if her body was liquid, pouring herself into each pose but also mechanical; stopping, starting and changing directions like a non-organic thing with limited movement. It looked brutal and beautiful and was the perfect dance to represent her character and accomplishments.
Tony’s entry was over the top and involved him dancing around his spinning bots before the finish when all his Iron Man suits, likely controlled by Friday, were dancing in sync with him like they were his crew. There were even animated coloured lights choreographed for the piece. It could be the winner for production value alone.
Bucky felt humbled to be in the same competition as Tony and Natasha. Even though Tony was his personal favourite, there was no denying Natasha’s talent and he equally wished for them to win.
Bucky was cutting up vegetables in the kitchen the day the final contest results were revealed when Tony found him.
“Hey Cold Stuff. You know there’s food processors in the cabinet that will do that job.”
Bucky put down his knife and rinsed his hands before drying them on a dish towel. “I don’t mind. Knife handling is probably the only thing Hydra gave me that’s useful for everyday life. It’s kind of meditative anyway,” he shrugged.
“So, Friday tells me I lost to a man bun.”
Bucky snorted and did a one shoulder shrug. He’d finally buckled after about the twelfth instructional video Friday had sent him showing how to style the perfect bun. He had to admit, the repeated exposure wore down his reluctance and he’d started to think it looked ok. But that’s not what Tony was actually talking about. “I dunno. The whole thing is unbelievable.”
“Yeah, I can’t believe I lost,” Tony said in that serious way that let Bucky know he was joking. “There’s no pleasing some people. Congratulations though, that was well earned.”
Bucky felt warmed by the praise even though he couldn’t understand how he’d won. Friday had tracked the voter comments and noted how popular his redemption arc story was becoming and how the dancing helped humanize him when all that most people had known before was the Winter Soldier persona. That still didn't explain why anyone would vote for him over Tony and Natasha but it seemed poor form to make a fuss about it.
“So, what’ll it be? Name your prize.”
Bucky had been ready for the question and looked Tony in the eye when he gave his answer. “I’d like a couple hours of your time, actually. And I’d like it around dinner time.” He said this with a confidence he didn’t feel but he let the question hang there. He figured this might be the only situation he’d get where he could ask Tony to spend time with him and as far as prizes went that Tony was giving away, he couldn’t think of a better one.
Tony’s smile slipped. “I don’t understand. Are you asking me to have dinner with you?”
“Yeah, unless you don’t want to. Which I get, don’t worry,” Bucky said. “Just thought I’d ask,” he tacked on softly. He definitely didn’t want to make Tony uncomfortable but he’d kind of thought things between them had improved enough that it wasn’t a terrible ask.
“So,” and Tony stared at him like he was trying to puzzle this out. “You’re passing on the 50k and want dinner with me instead.”
“Yeah,” Bucky said again with a sharp nod for emphasis.
“Well,” and Tony paused for a while, expression inscrutable. “What kind of dinner you thinking? Lobster in The Bahamas?”
“That taco place in Jersey you talked about. The one with the weird name.”
“Nick’s Shipping and Export? Bucky, that was my prize if I won, which I didn’t because people have no taste. You can’t want that?”
“I do though, if you’ll go with me,” Bucky said and watched as Tony’s puzzled frown slowly turned into a genuine smile. He kind of felt like he’d already gotten his prize right there. Because Bucky was a romantic sap at heart, to him, Tony was akin to a star that he was happy to orbit and if sometimes Tony shone some light on him, paid him a little attention, gave him a real smile, it was enough. Or at least he told himself it would have to be.
And that’s how he ended up driving to Jersey with Tony the following week. It turned out the tacos were a lunchtime thing only but it hardly mattered. Tony was waiting for Bucky in front of the compound next to a new and flashy looking orange GT fastback and insisted Bucky drive as he had a couple of unfinished SI messages to answer. As soon as he was done, they chatted easily about Avenger life for a while until Tony changed the topic.
“I want to thank you,” he said, “for what you did with Friday.”
Bucky immediately demurred. “Believe me, I didn’t do anything. Friday was in charge of the whole operation.”
“But that’s what I mean. You let her.” At Bucky’s quizzical look, Tony explained. “She’s been wanting to explore the concept of creativity, right? And like anyone, in order to learn and grow, she needs to push boundaries but her programming makes it difficult to do without a defined goal or end point, at least to start. Art by its nature is subjective and art for art’s sake wouldn’t be an experience she could learn from at this stage in her development. You provided the end goal; winning the competition. She was able to take all the given parameters like your ability, timeline, current and projected future trends, appealing compositions, whatever, and together with you, create something new. It’s not often she’s treated like a person and an equal, like a unique individual rather than an extension of me, and I think it was a really positive experience for her.”
Bucky found he was momentarily speechless. He hadn’t really thought of Friday as someone who yearned to grow and develop. She’d been introduced as a learning AI but he’d assumed the learning was more of a passive trial and error approach, not an act of self determination. She already knew so much too that it was easy for him to think of her as fully formed. He briefly wondered if this would change their interactions and decided that he might actually have more meaningful conversations with her, if anything.
“Well, she’s not the only one who got something out of this. Can’t say I wasn’t terrified of doing that competition at the beginning but Friday made it manageable. Just nudging me along in small increments. Nothing I couldn’t handle. And look at me now; I know the difference between toprock and uprock and how to get exactly the right degree of messy into a man bun,” Bucky joked. “Wouldn’t have believed it a month ago.”
The tacos were amazing, Tony spoke the truth. They sat at a picnic table in a parking lot cluttered with portable buildings near the port. Off to one side, in front of the main warehouse, a customer line had formed where family members of the eponymous Nick had their food table set up, frying the soft corn tacos to get them nice and crispy after filling them with cheese, stewed meat and mole sauce. He’d never had this combination of flavours before and it was like a taste explosion in his mouth. Neither of them spoke, beyond Bucky’s “Wow” and Tony’s “I know, right?”, each enjoying their personal taco experience in silence until about the third one.
“Should we bring some back for the others you think?” Bucky asked. Everyone needed to try this at least once before they died.
“They’ll be soggy,” Tony shrugged. “Not the same.”
“Maybe another round for us then.”
“You betcha,” Tony said licking his fingers with relish.
On the way back, during a lull in the conversation, Bucky reflected on the day and noted that something had definitely changed between them. Tony’s posture indicated that he was absolutely relaxed sitting beside him in the passenger seat. Any reticence Tony had shown during his interactions with Bucky seemed to be a thing of the past as evidenced by the easy conversation, especially earlier when he’d filled Bucky in on one of his latest theories, accompanied by a lot of wild gesticulation. The tension that had dogged their meetings the first few months after Bucky had arrived was gone. And this day? This was the best day after a whole month of increasingly good days. He expected to get raised eyebrows or some ribbing over his choice of prize back at the compound but he couldn’t think of a better one.
After parking, Bucky handed Tony his keys back.
“Nah, keep it. It’s yours,” he said, waving off the keys before starting for the compound entrance.
“What?” Bucky said as he almost tripped over his own feet.
“It’s your prize or it’s a thank you. Whichever works best,” Tony answered, spreading his arms wide while walking backwards.
“What?” He repeated dumbly following along and glancing back at the car as though to confirm which car they were talking about.
“Let me know if you feel like doing a taco run again,” Tony said.
Tony had reached the doors by the time Bucky’s brain permitted higher functioning again. “You can’t just give me a car. And how about next week?” he asked almost cringing at the naked hopeful tone but he was willing to risk his pride where Tony was concerned, that was a fact.
“Can. Did. Ownership’s in the glove,” Tony said, flashing him a dazzling and genuine smile. “And you’re on. If I can’t get next Tuesday off for tacos, you want to try something else or wait?”
Bucky answered with a big smile of his own as he attempted to put one foot in front of the other like a person who had some game and wasn’t a walking disaster right now. He felt like he maybe pulled it off. At least until he had to speak. “Yeah, I’d really like that. The something else. Or tacos. Next week. Whichever is sooner.” Even worse, it had somehow come out alternatingly breathy and squeaky.
Tony chuckled as he looked at Bucky with obvious amusement. “You got it Cold Stuff. Date for next week.”
Bucky was going to murder his body later behind closed doors as he felt his cheeks heat at the nickname which he loved and from general embarrassment at his sudden awkwardness. He knew how to pick his battles however and right now, he felt like he’d won the only important one. He didn’t know what the future would bring but for the first time, he felt hopeful about his chances to get a shot at some kind of happiness. Friends, found family, a plant, maybe more. He would take everything offered him. But first, he was going to have to thank everyone who’d encouraged him to take part in the contest, Friday especially. He wouldn’t have any of this without her. He’d think of a special project they could do together that might interest her. Of course, none of this would have happened if not for Tony and Bucky was going to dedicate himself to finding a way to express his thanks. He had some ideas.
∞
This is the song mentioned earlier that Bucky danced to in round 2.
All Night Long by Parov Stelar
This is how I pictured Natasha's round 3 dance looking like.