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You had been working together with Bucky and Sam for weeks now and despite Sam's many warnings to Bucky to be nice to you, every day Bucky got progressively more curt and agitated with you.
Sometimes he was downright mean, though you always deflected it- excused his behavior.
You'd say something about how you admired his honesty, his brashness.
Or you'd try to validate his feelings.
Then the next day, you'd do something nice for Bucky to apologize for upsetting him. It only made him even angrier.
Bucky honestly couldn't even remember what offhand comment set this argument in motion. All he knew was that he'd finally- finally done something to set you off. "You're a pushover."
"I'm not a pushover. I'm nice- there's a difference."
You're about to walk out of the room when he speaks again. "You're annoying. And you're bugging me! God, why don't you just go home? We don't need your help anymore. Seriously, don't you have a family or someone else to go annoy?"
"You don't have to be an ass," you grit, trying to calm yourself.
"Oh, so now you know a word besides awesome," he mocks you, throwing up his arms. "Maybe eventually you'll get a clue and realize that not everything in this world is awesome and sunshine and- and whatever other deluded fantasy you're trying to fool yourself into believing."
You turn sharply, feeling the painful stab of his words. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't know how much shit is in this world. How bad people can be? I know- I know it very well. I've seen it with my own two eyes. And everyday I wake up and put a smile on my face anyway. I wake up and I choose to be happy, to smile, and to be nice to people even when they don't deserve it. Because if I don't- if the world really is all shit and evil then what's the point?"
"The point?" he asks. He's completely thrown off by our outburst, if he could call it that knowing he'd provoked you. You never talked about your past or family or anything that wasn't a very surface-level topic. You didn't talk about your story or background- or lack thereof. Now that he thought about it, he didn't know anything about you.
"Yeah. Then what's the point? Why would I even bother with the world? Why would I even get out of bed in the morning? Why would I keep moving forward? I don't have anything. I don't have a family or a home or really anything. I have me- and that's it. There's no one I can call, no one I look to, I don't have a Steve- I've never had a Steve! I don't have a friend or family or anyone that even fucking vaguely knows me, so if that's the case then what's the point?"
"I-"
"You know what? No. I'm done. You don't want me to play nice? Fine. One more loss can't possibly hurt more than the rest, can it? Just let me do what I need to do. And you do what you need to do."
You take your wallet and you storm out. You're not even sure where you're going, you just can't breathe. So you walk, and walk, and walk, until everything else is just background noise.
When Sam finally comes back, he immediately notices your absence. There's no music playing, you're not in the kitchen, there's a lack of the spirit that you bring and it's all gone. As cliche as it sounds, it's quiet- too quiet. "Hey, where'd she go?"
"I dunno," Bucky mumbles after taking a long pull from his beer bottle.
"She just left?"
"Yup," he remarks, trying to make it seem like he's completely uninterested in your disappearance, when in reality he's been waiting for you to come back since he ran you out. Even by just looking at Bucky's flat expression, Sam knows that he's not getting the full story, so he calls you. "Hey, where'd you go? Everything okay?"
You clear your throat. "Yeah! I'm okay. Thank you for asking. I just need to take a break- I won't be far, just call if you need anything."
Your voice is off. Sam can hear the strain in your vocal chords, how your typical optimism and excitement sound forced, fake. "You're sure?"
"Yeah! I'm great! I have to go, but I'll be back," you promise.
When he hangs up the phone, he stares holes into the side of Bucky's head. Just by the way he's avoiding looking at him tells Sam who's the guilty party. "What did you do?"
"What makes you think I did anything?" Bucky responds, taking a large swig from his glass.
"Because you're the only person on this Earth that seems determined to drive away the sweetest, nicest person I've ever met. You're the only one that wants to make her miserable. Care to explain what you said to make her cry?"
"She was crying?" he winces.
"She sure sounded like it."
"Shit," Bucky mumbles. He really hates how guilty he feels for making you cry, but the smallest part of him wants to know what exactly it was that made you so mad. He wants to know what makes you tick, though he can't figure why he wants to know.
"You took it way too far, man. You don't have to like her- though I can't for the life of me figure out why you don't- but she does deserve your respect. After everything she's done she deserves that much. You know, I don't even want to know what you said, but when she comes back, you're going to apologize. You're going to make this right."
"Wait, what do you mean 'when she comes back'?"
"She left. She said she needed a break- from you I assume- which means I don't get my cinnamon rolls," he realizes. "Damn it, Bucky!"
"She left a plate for you on the table," Bucky says, nudging his head to the kitchen table.
Sam gestures to the plate of pastries. "How could you not like her? She make us cinnamon rolls- just to be nice!"
"So, she's really gone? Why don't we go after her?" Bucky asks, though he's not sure why he's even bothering in trying to get you back. The entire time he's been trying to get rid of you and now that you're gone, he's not sure he likes it.
"She said that she'd be close if we needed her," he says, shoving one of your pastries in his mouth. "Look I know that she's a little..."
"Soft?"
"I would not use that word," Sam scoffs. "I know she seems like 'fluff', but she's not. I don't know how she keeps a smile on her face, but she's tough. She's smart- smarter than you. And if she's gone- if she doesn't want to be found, she's not going to be."
Bucky looks at him in disbelief. "You don't think we could find her?"
"No, I don't," Sam deadpans. "She's more than what she seems, man. If you could just stop judging her for a minute, you'd see that. It's why I wanted her to come help us."
Another surprise for Bucky, his head twists in confusion. "You asked for her help?"
"What you think she just came with the safe house? Yes, I asked her to come and help us. She's an Avenger too, whether you can see that or not."
Only a a week and a half has passed, you've yet to make an reappearance yet. With each passing day, Bucky feels worse. Sam refuses to drag you back unless they really need you. You take this time to do research, to figure out your next move. You send any new information you have to Sam, and lately you're working overtime to distract yourself from the sting of Bucky's words. You weren't lying to Bucky when you said you'd seen a lot of ugly in this word, you'd seen some of the most depraved parts of humanity, and yet you refused to be a part of it. Being kind, adding kindness that the world desperately needed made life worth living for you.
There were very few things that really, truly phased you anymore, but Bucky touched a real soft spot for you. And since Bucky said those things, you couldn't bring yourself to be that person.
It wasn't until the day before Bucky's birthday that you were even considering coming back. You knew you could miss it, nobody would blame you. But after a lot of deliberation you decided that you'd hidden away long enough.
Despite his cruel words, you still make him a cake for his birthday. You do this for everyone, you reconciled. And the smallest part of you realized that if you didn't- Bucky would think that his words affected you more than they did.
So you bake the damned cake. You do the intricate frosting, the lettering, and everything else knowing that he'll probably get mad about it.
You debate leaving the cake on the kitchen table, then you think otherwise because you're worried Sam will eat it before Bucky even gets a chance to see it.
It's late when he gets back. He looks more upset than normal- then you wonder if anyone else remembered his birthday. You never said anything, but you knew better than anyone else how much a forgotten birthday stung.
"I didn't know you were back," Bucky mumbles.
"Yeah, I just got back. Last night, actually."
"It's okay, you don't have to be here if you don't want to. Sam'll probably be out until tomorrow."
You nod, but say nothing. You can feel Bucky's eyes on you as you silently walk over to the fridge and pull out the cake. Bucky freezes, he's not sure what to do with himself so he doesn't even move an inch. You place the cake in front of him. "Well, not even you deserve to be left alone on your birthday. Besides, who doesn't like birthdays?" You cringe at your own excitement, knowing how much it set Bucky off. And it makes Bucky feel even worse. He didn't want you to change, not because of him and the terrible things he'd said. "Sorry."
He shakes his head. He's not sure if it was Sam's very long and multiple lectures or your very noticeable absence, but he feels bad about the things he said. And a part of him, a part that's much bigger than he'd like to admit, missed you. "Don't be. I was being a grumpy old man. I'd blame the old age, but it was me being an ass."
"Was that a joke?" you smile.
"It was. They did exist back in my day."
"Did they?" He nods with a small smirk on his face. You pull out some candles and light them for him. "Well go ahead, blow out your candles before you ruin your cake."
It's quiet by the time you and Bucky cut the cake and you've served yourself and him a piece. "You know, this is the real reason I love birthdays," you laugh, pointing down at the cake.
"I gotta hand it to you, this is really good."
"Well, today must be a special day if Bucky Barnes is complimenting me."
"I think your birthday spirit is rubbing off on me," he chuckles. "I think I'd celebrate everyone's birthdays if I got a cake like this."
"I think Sam's is still a few months away."
"Well, what about yours?"
Your smile drops a little bit and you can't meet Bucky's eyes anymore. "I don't- uh, I don't have a birthday."
"What? Come on, everyone has a birthday!"
"I mean, I have one. Probably? I just don't know it," you shrug.
"You don't even have a guess?"
You shake your head, mouth pressed into a thin line. "No, there's no records of me. Trust me, I've looked. When I got to the Avengers, Tony and Vision could tell me how old they think I am, but..." you shrug. "God, that was depressing," you dramatically shake your head. "Definitely not birthday appropriate discussion."
Bucky's not convinced. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"No, it's- it's fine. You know, no birthday means I don't technically age which is pretty awesome, so... Yeah. It's great," you nod.
Bucky doesn't buy it for one second. He kind of feels some sort of indignation for you, he's only gotten some small pieces of the puzzle, but from what he's learned there's absolutely no reason that you should be happy or kind. He's not- he's gone through hell, he only repays to those he owes and nothing more. But you, you're not like that. It makes him feel like an even bigger asshole. "I really am sorry about the other day. I shouldn't have said what I did."
"Ah," you wave him off. "It's alright."
"It's really not."
"Well, it's your birthday. Plus, I'm not inclined to hold grudges."
"You're better than most then." You don't respond to Bucky's compliment, instead you pick at the last few bites of the cake on your plate.
You're both sitting in silence when Sam barges through the door. "Hey, look who's back! And with cake!"
You gently nudge him in the ribs. "It's Bucky's birthday, Sam. Remember?"
"Oh, yeah. Of course I remember! Happy birthday," Sam says unconvincingly.
"I'm going to head to bed, but happy birthday, James," you say, lightly resting your hand on his shoulder.
Sam doesn't miss the way Bucky's looking at you- the smile that just barely cracks on Bucky's face is so slight that anyone else would have missed it, but not Sam.
"Interesting," Sam murmurs low enough that neither you nor Bucky hear.