Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Standing in his oversized, Stark designed walk-in closet, Bucky frowned at the meager contents in dismay; three long-sleeved black shirts, one white short-sleeved shirt for exercising, two pairs of skinny jeans (they’re fashionable, per Pepper), and one pair of ‘nice’ khaki pants that Steve insisted he needed (Stark had referred to them as ‘atrocities that should be burned immediately’ and Bucky somewhat agreed, though he kept the opinion to himself because he knew they were a staple in Steve’s wardrobe). 

No possible combination of these clothes fit the vibe he was looking for this morning… comfort. 

But Bucky Barnes was a problem solving type of guy and refused to accept this fate - didn’t he spend enough time in constant, mind-numbing discomfort during his reign as the Winter Soldier with Hydra? Should he allow himself to suffer needlessly now that he was ‘free’?

A montage of gruesome images flashed through his mind - strapped to a table, scalpels digging relentlessly into his skin. Strapped to a chair, electricity coursing through his brain. Being brutally hosed down with freezing cold water to rid his skin of dirt, grime, and a hodgepodge of bodily fluids, both his and those of the people he assassinated.

There was certainly no way in hell Hydra would have allowed him to dress comfortably during missions (even if they weren’t giant fucking assholes) because, sadly, cozy clothes were generally not practical for stealth missions geared towards taking over the world (and yet, long hair that constantly flew into his face while trying to shoot wasn’t practical either, so fuck those hypocritical douchebags, Hydra definitely could have outfitted him better). 

It was all such a shame, really; maybe the world would be a better place if sweatpants and fluffy sweaters were accepted as professional murder attire.

Shuddering, he decided that his off-the-books-but-totally-legit therapist he refused to speak to had the right idea - he deserved nice things, and acquiring more sufficient clothing was a good first step to developing a better self care regimen, regardless of how he happened upon them (Bucky always found it amusing how the therapist still talked during every 'session' despite his steadfast silence, and Bucky had a nagging feeling the insanely stubborn woman must be in Steve’s family tree somehow… anyone else would have given up fifty meetings ago).

‘Adequate attire is optimal for mission success,’ a sullen voice in his head declared. 

(Bucky’s head was a bit of a mess after the whole ‘being tortured and brainwashed for decades’ bit, but he was learning to manage his circumstances the best he could. He generally ignored comments from the remnants of the Winter Soldier that still existed in his mind on principle, whom he deemed simply as ‘Winter’ because that was a whole fuckton nicer than ‘Soldier’ or ‘Asset’ or any other dehumanizing term used by Hydra. On rare occasions, Winter was actually helpful, and since they agreed on the same mission - protecting Steve Rogers -  Bucky grudgingly accepted sharing his unbrainwashed mind with what remained of the world’s deadliest assassin… not that he really had a choice in the matter, but whatever.)

‘Steve has the best clothes!’ a second voice excitedly chimed in.

(Bucky tolerated past-Bucky’s comments in his thoughts a lot more than Winter’s; his contributions were generally useful or provided necessary insight when Bucky found himself in peculiar situations, like the time when Steve tried to tuck him into bed, but Bucky thought he was trying to restrain him from how snuggly the blonde pulled the blankets around him. But this ‘original’ part of himself could be overly sensitive and sentimental, and it sometimes made navigating the new circumstances he found himself in unnecessarily difficult, especially in his first weeks at the Avengers Tower.)

Past-Bucky, naturally, existed first, encompassing his life from birth until he fell off the train during the mission with the Howling Commandos. Winter came after that, thanks to Hydra’s ‘science’ but ended on the helicarrier when Steve’s unrelenting stubbornness knocked some of his programming loose. Current, present-day Bucky had full control over his own thoughts and actions, but the other two versions of himself whispered comments whenever they wanted to, sometimes pulling out memories they deemed important to share with him or  offering unsolicited advice (or biting criticism, usually courtesy of Winter who always had something to say about the things happening in Bucky’s life). 

Having lived two drastically different lives before he ended up on the banks of the Potomac river with a half-drowned Captain America in his clutches, it (mostly) made sense to Bucky that he shared his brain with the prior versions of himself. He knew his current situation wasn’t normal per se, but all-in-all, they weren’t really bad company, even Winter, whose relentless sass could actually be really fucking hilarious when it wasn’t targeted at Bucky himself.

But Bucky hadn’t always handled the constant chatter well.

When his programming had begun cracking and breaking apart, the two warring voices in his head, combined with his own chaotic, jumbled thoughts, had been exceptionally difficult to deal with, and Bucky constantly suffered from painful headaches that had him wondering if his 'freedom' was worth it in the long run. Eventually, he realized that creating images to assign to the voices made them easier to understand and tolerate; past-Bucky was the clean-shaven, short haired, roguish, twenty-something year old best friend of Steve Rogers that he’d seen in the Smithsonian exhibit, complete with the blue peacoat, charming grin, and two regular flesh arms. 

Winter, on the other hand, had the bulky Hydra-issued metal arm with the tacky giant red star on it, shoulder length hair, facial scruff, the combat outfit designed for efficiency only, and an overall general sullen grunge look about him, mostly due to the useless black eye paint he favored for reasons Bucky would never understand (but no mask or goggles, because all parts of himself agreed those were inefficient and unnecessary for day-to-day use).

Of course, because his life was a shit show, Bucky’s method of imagining his two former-selves while they talked in his head had unexpected consequences. 

Two weeks after Wanda had destroyed his programming for good, he was finally allowed to move-in to Steve’s apartment in the Avengers Tower. During the first night, Bucky had woken disoriented from a nightmare in the center of his bed and turned to grab his tablet off his nightstand, only to find someone in the bed next to him - the Winter Soldier himself, clad in his usual combat gear with the creepy racoon eyes, staring impassively at him. Bucky had screamed so loudly, shocking even the emotionless assassin with how high his voice had gone, only to jump back and land next to a worried looking past-Bucky sitting cross-legged on his right. 

By the time Steve had barreled into his room, shield in hand, Bucky had been sobbing uncontrollably in the corner of his bedroom, clutching at his head and convinced he’d truly gone mad. His crazed mutterings had been in Russian, thank god, so Steve had sat quietly with him (likely assuming his distraught reaction was from a traumatic nightmare), while unknowingly blocking Bucky’s view of his two former-selves with his bulky frame. Eventually, Bucky had fallen into a restless sleep, marginally calmed by the fact Steve couldn’t see anything amiss.

Bucky woke the next morning back in his bed and had tried to talk to his former-selves in his head without opening his eyes, but neither answered; he wasn’t surprised when he resignedly opened his eyes to see an aloof Winter sitting on the bed next to a beaming past-Bucky, his original self waving upon meeting his gaze. In the brightness of the morning, Bucky noticed their forms were somewhat faded, not quite solid but also not see-through. He carefully reached his metal hand out to touch past-Bucky’s leg and was somewhat mollified when his hand passed through him.

‘We are you, and you are us. We are one body, three functioning minds within one brain. We cannot hurt each other,’ Winter had tonelessly explained. 

‘Our physical forms are technically figments of your imagination,’ past-Bucky had chirped upon seeing Bucky’s confusion.

Despite his original apprehension at his former-selves coming to life, so to speak, it had been unexpectedly easy to become accustomed to their presence; sometimes they were there, sometimes they weren’t, but they always showed up as a pair and would still interact with him in his thoughts if they weren’t ‘there’ physically. 

When he was around other people, past-Bucky always stood just behind him on his right and Winter stood on his left; they shadowed him like bodyguards, each whispering comments into his ear when necessary (Bucky sometimes struggled to remember to answer them in his head, though, which had made for a few awkward moments but nothing too embarrassing yet). 

For the most part, the duo seemed to show up when Bucky was around anyone who wasn’t Steve, Wanda, or Peter, and they were almost always guaranteed to be there when he was alone in the apartment. He spent many cozy afternoons engrossed in a novel with past-Bucky following along over his shoulder, Winter cat-napping on the floor near them; sometimes he watched Disney movies with past-Bucky cuddled into his side, Winter maintaining a constant stream of disparaging comments from his perch on the back of the couch above them (and Bucky had been baffled the first time it happened: how he could see past-Bucky leaning solidly against him; how his former-self didn’t go right through him like Bucky’s hand had gone through past-Bucky’s leg that first morning; how he couldn’t feel an additional weight on his side, yet he always sensed each of their presences when they were with him. Winter had snickered and vaguely answered, ‘ We are real to you but we are also in your head,” and well… that explained it, didn’t it? ).

The ironic part of it all had to be that as Bucky learned new things, had different experiences, interacted with others, and grew overall as a person, past-Bucky and Winter developed as well. 

Winter, at first, had been a miserable son-of-a-bitch, always whispering paranoid comments in the back of Bucky’s mind, muttering about all the different ways he could eliminate an enemy (like the guy in the grocery store who gave him a funny look once, probably because Bucky was whispering in Russian to himself, bitching about the ridiculous cost of produce in America), and always complaining about one thing or another. But now? Well… he still had some of those same aspects, but he was a lot calmer and had developed more of a cheeky and somewhat narcissistic attitude (his comments during action or spy movies were absolutely scathing , and Bucky always had to keep himself from inappropriately cackling out loud if he wasn’t alone). Winter was still paranoid, but he was learning to trust others (like Steve, and even Wanda and Peter to an extent), and slowly accepting they could solve most of their problems without murdering everyone and their brother in the process.

Past-Bucky had been a lot quieter until Bucky ended up back in the Tower with Steve, and for a while, his most commonly uttered words were ‘back in my day’ which had driven Bucky up a fucking wall, because he said it frequently and with the snootiest tone. (‘Back in my day, Steve used to always draw me, and he said I was his favorite model’ or ‘Back in my day, Steve would never have moved out of Brooklyn’ or ‘Back in my day, Steve and I hugged a lot more than you two do’). And Bucky refused to live in the past anymore; too much had changed in the world to try to keep things the way they had been seventy years ago, including Steve and himself. But now, past-Bucky loved the future, always encouraging Bucky to try strange foods, read new books, and watch a diverse range of movies. He thought the internet was the greatest thing in existence, always hovering behind Bucky and suggesting different things they should look up or pointing out games they could play. And yeah, he did sometimes relate things to his own experiences in the past, but it became a lot less annoying after he began adapting and embracing their current life in the modern world.

Despite his acceptance of his circumstances, Bucky wasn’t naïve or stupid enough to tell anyone about it, and he was grateful his former-selves generally stood behind him when he was around other people, because it made it easier to remember to not answer their comments aloud. Wanda likely knew about how them because she’d been in his head for a few weeks to eliminate his programming, but if she did, she never said anything; Bucky highly doubted she knew about their physical forms, though, because they hadn’t shown up until after she was done spending hours upon hours in his head.

Initially, he’d been concerned that Stark’s A.I. in the ceiling, Friday, would report back to Stark (or worse, Steve) that he regularly talked to himself while alone in the apartment, so he tried to answer the pair only in his head. But after he slipped up a few times during the first weeks and no Avenger suddenly barged into his room and carted him off for a psychological evaluation (again), he realized either she didn’t care enough to report him or she wasn’t spying on him (unlikely)... and to be honest, it was way too much work to filter himself when he was alone, so he stopped bothering. 

But telling someone outright that he regularly interacted with two different apparitions of himself (especially one who was a notorious formerly brainwashed assassin) would assuredly get him a one-way ticket to a psychiatric ward, so he kept it completely to himself. He’d worked too fucking hard to get where he was to give it all up for something irrelevant like that; all things considered, he was managing just fine, thank you very much. 

Bucky nodded along in agreement with the others' comments regarding his plan to obtain more sufficient clothing, encouraged by their full on support. He quietly closed the door to the closet (which was bigger than his childhood bedroom, what the fuck) and briskly strode across the room in nothing but his boxers, pausing at the threshold of his bedroom and the hallway. 

Using his enhanced hearing (Hydra was good for something at least, the fucking bastards), he confirmed that Steve was still occupied with his post-run shower in the hall bathroom, so now was the opportune time to execute his plan (Steve had insisted Bucky take the master bedroom when he moved in, which was nice since he had a bathroom attached directly to his room and didn’t have to worry as much about waking Steve when taking a bath in the middle of the night. But most importantly, the bathroom had a giant walk-in open shower, which Bucky was immensely grateful for since the standard showers with glass doors or curtains reminded him of cryo and made him feel claustrophobic).

Switching flawlessly to ‘‘ Winter-Soldier-Mode ’ (minus the murderous disposition, of course), he soundlessly slunk down the long hall towards his friend’s bedroom, evening out his breathing as he expanded his senses to make sure his path was clear. Steve wasn’t likely to hear him over the one-man chorus concert he was conducting within the confines of the bathroom, even with his enhanced hearing and the door cracked open. (“I leave it cracked so the steam doesn’t gather in the bathroom and turn this into some sort of fucking sauna, Bucky, obviously… no, it’s not because I think you’re going to just disappear while I’m in the shower, and no, the fan doesn’t help, I’m telling you, it just gives me a headache, I’m sure that’s why Tony installed it.”) 

Decades of stealth training was hard to forgo, and practice kept his skills sharp.

…he may have also liked being dramatic, sue him - civilian life was inexplicably boring .

Bucky sauntered into the bedroom, easily slipping in because Steve didn’t believe in closed bedroom doors either, at least when it was just the two of them living in the apartment (“I’ve got nothing to hide, Buck, and you’re always welcome to come in here,” Steve has said at least twice, always with an open and guileless expression that Bucky wasn’t sure how he felt about). 

His friend’s room appeared almost identical to his, with the main focal point being a queen sized bed with dark navy silk sheets and an intricately carved wooden headboard (“It’s mahogany , Bucky, it’s fancy stuff we wouldn’t have ever dreamed of having growing up” … “It’s wood, from a tree, Steve”), and matching tall dresser that he is almost certain Pepper picked out. While Steve’s room had very few personal touches (“It just seemed pointless to decorate, ya know?”.. Bucky didn’t know but had nodded along anyways), his wardrobe was something Steve clearly took seriously.

Coming to stand at the entryway of the walk-in closet, Bucky took a deep breath, forcing himself to tamper down his excitement and maintain focus - he was on a time limit and needed to work efficiently. Stepping in, he couldn’t help but snort at how different Steve’s closet was from his own. While Bucky had maybe ten pieces of clothing in total, the other man’s wardrobe took up half of the allotted space, which was saying something since Stark’s idea of a walk-in closet was similar to “normal” people’s bedrooms (at least according to Wilson, and although Bucky wasn’t his biggest fan, his instincts told him he could be trusted on this). 

When Bucky was finally deemed ‘safe’ enough to stay with Captain America, Steve had gently guided him into the closet to pick out something 'new' since Bucky had been rotating between the same four or five outfits for the last month. He laughed lightly at Bucky’s low whistle and wide-eyed surprise upon witnessing the neat, yet plentiful rows of clothing, so extensively different from the rest of the bare minimum apartment he’d seen so far. 

Steve explained that the other Avengers never knew what to gift the “legendary first superhero” Captain America, so after realizing he was amused by the novelty clothes of the 21st century, they challenged each other to gift him the best of the best. And superheroes were apparently competitive as fuck, so adding in the clothes Steve bought for himself after waking up from the ice (a few different types of shirts one or two sizes too small in every color available and a variety of work-out pants, athletic shorts, jeans, and of course, khakis), his wardrobe amounted to, in Bucky’s eyes at least, a small department store.

Bucky decided to forgo a shirt and instead grabbed his favorite item - an oversized (on him at least… he was skeptical that Steve’s broad shoulders could fit comfortably into it) galactic hoodie, adorned with a ginger kitten on the front in an astronaut helmet. It was a gift from Bruce, who in Bucky’s expert opinion despite never meeting the man, had superior taste since this sweatshirt was lined with the softest material known to mankind, and had pockets . And if it also smelled like Steve’s ‘forest fresh’ body wash, then well, that was just an added bonus, wasn’t it?

‘Wait, fuck, is that creepy? No, no, it’s fine, you’ve been friends forever, people know these things about each other… right? But, wait, does Steve find comfort in your scent or are you the only one who feels peaceful getting a whiff of the other? How do you even ask that? Can we just blame our fucked up brain on this and call it a day?’

Past-Bucky readily supplied a few snippets of memories that soothed his panicked thoughts, bless him.

“You smell good, Buck, is that the new cologne your folks got ya for Christmas?”

“Stevie, how do you always smell like the woods when you ain’t ever left the city in your life?” … “I don’t know, Bucky, I guess I’m just magical like that.”

An image of the two of them as kids, cuddled up chest-to-chest on the couch cushions they had placed on the floor in the Barnes’s family living room, noses pressed into the other’s neck and their arms wrapped snugly around each other as they slept peacefully, the window showing a storm raging brutally outside.

Bucky was jerked out of his thoughts by the low groan of the water shutting off and the subsequent end of Steve’s shower singing, He seized his favorite pair of black joggers off the hanger (which were a bit snug since Bucky’s lower half was somehow bigger than Steve’s, but they made his butt look nice according to Wanda, which was a good thing according to Peter, and they were soft, hence, favorite), quickly dressed himself, and proceeded to flee the scene of the crime like he was some sort of well… criminal. 

Vaulting over the back of the couch, Bucky switched on the television and swiftly arranged his body into the perfect look of nonchalance - fingers interlocked behind his head and feet propped on the coffee table which he then crossed delicately at the ankles.

Bucky heard the bathroom door open fully, followed by Steve’s heavy footsteps heading down the hall.

‘Don’t take a deep breath, don’t take a deep breath, that’s fucking weird Barnes, don’t do it.’

‘You’re creepy future-self,’ past-Bucky giggled in the back of his head. 

“Learn anything new this morning?” Steve hollered over his shoulder as he strode into his bedroom. 

To Steve’s great amusement, Bucky had developed an obsession with watching any and all shows geared towards animals, nature, or people in nature, regardless if they were purely educational or those situated in ‘reality.’

He absolutely loved the intense shows like Deadliest Catch, River Monsters, and Coast Guard Alaska, but he learned the hard way that certain things were not meant to be watched alone (and sadly, in this instance, his former-selves didn't count as real company). Despite being a hardened soldier and a formidable ex-assassin who survived decades of brainwashing and torture, the intense, anxiety-inducing situations depicted on the shows would cause him to bite his nails until they bled and haunt him with bizarre nightmares where he was forced into similar situations. 

After waking up screaming for the third night in a row, Bucky had finally caved and told a distressed Steve who’d rushed into his room the real reason for the sudden return of his constant nightmares. (“Buck, why would you watch something that stresses you out so much?” … “I don’t know, I just like it. It’s intense but not because of fights and war, ya know? And stupid TV shows shouldn’t bother me this much, and I fucking hate that they do, so I will keep watching them until they don’t.”)

Fortunately, in a bid to understand Bucky’s obsession, they found that Steve’s steady, unwavering presence and witty remarks while they watched together alleviated a lot of Bucky’s anxiety. They developed a routine of watching a few episodes each night after dinner, pressed shoulder to shoulder on the couch, Steve’s heavy arm securely wrapped around Bucky like his very own weighted blanket. It made Bucky feel better knowing Steve also found those shows intriguing yet addictively agonizing, and watching them together became their thing that the other Avengers weren’t invited to attend.

Taking a deep breath (‘fuck, why is that forest fresh scent so invigorating? Can’t even be mad since it smells so good’), “Male penguins give female penguins rocks to woo them,” Bucky answered loudly, mentally patting himself on the back for being able to recall, under extreme duress, some obscure fact he learned from the documentary he watched yesterday.

“That sounds familiar,” Steve laughed, his voice muffled as he pulled a shirt over his head, probably struggling because it was too small to fit over his broad form. 

Bucky weakly rubbed his eyes with his flesh hand, trying to physically erase the images his brain was supplying of a half naked Steve Rogers pulling a shirt over his scientifically perfect six-pack abs, water droplets cascading -

Nope, nope, NOPE, that is definitely crossing a line Steve would not be cool with him crossing.

It pained him knowing he couldn’t blame past-Bucky or Winter for this one; this brand new mental shit storm of lusting over a buff Steve was all current-day Bucky Barnes, made more difficult by their constant contact with one another and Steve’s poorly fitting wardrobe. 

Internally lusting over buff Steve may be a new struggle for him, but having less-than-platonic feelings for the blonde was absolutely not a new occurrence. He’d fallen for Steve immediately when they first met as children, but it took him until he was around seventeen to realize his love for the blonde was both platonic and romantic. (Hell, even the Winter Soldier had been extraordinarily impressed by both Steve’s fighting skills and ferocious determination to complete his mission, and he looked down on everyone.)

“Hey, Bucky?” 

‘Fuck, he knows, he knows!’ he whined to his former-selves. ‘Should I just own up to it now? I’m sure he’s used to other people mentally ogling his very aesthetically pleasing body.’ 

‘I don’t think he’s used to that,’ past-Bucky unhelpfully supplied.

‘You are a seasoned spy, you can hold out under pressure,’ Winter scoffed.

‘Yes, thank you Winter. Calm, cool, and collected, just another day of bullshitting your way through life, let’s get it.’

“Y-yeah?” he answered Steve.

Past-Bucky sighed in the back of his mind while Winter remained quiet, thank fuck, but the deafening silence still sounded judgmental.

‘Shit. In our defense, we are out of practice,’ he internally shrugged.

Bucky coughed to cover his stutter, closing his eyes and unintentionally focusing on his internal squabbling match, a habit he really needed to work on breaking before someone noticed how often he zoned out.

‘Speak for yourself,’ Winter hissed.

‘We are all the same person!’ Bucky petulantly shouted back. ‘So I am speaking for myself even when I’m speaking for all of us, take that, ya jerk.’

‘I loathe you,’ Winter huffed irritably.

‘Be nice,’ past-Bucky scolded. ‘Both of you. And focus on Steve, he’s more important right now.’

“You know you don’t have to wear my clothes all the time, right, pal?” Steve suggested, his tone light with amusement over Bucky’s antics. “We can get you some more if you want, maybe try some new styles they have now?” 

Bucky opened one eye, relief palpable as his tense shoulders loosened. 

‘He can’t read minds, Barnes, you idiot. He’s not Wanda,’ Winter snootily reminded him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rogers.”

Okay, seriously, Steve was still in his room and couldn’t have seen him on the couch as he left the bathroom and walked down the hall to his own room - how the fuck did he know what Bucky was wearing?

‘It’s not like you don’t steal his clothes every day or anything.’

“Shut up, inner voice,” he growled to himself; it was bad enough to have Winter and past-Bucky sassing him, but why did he have to sass himself?

Fuck, he was such a mess.

Dragging himself from the comfort of the plush couch, he migrated to the kitchen, hopping up to sit on the granite counter opposite the stove. Placing his hands in the fleece-lined pockets of his sweatshirt, Bucky jutted his bottom lip out, hair falling around his face in natural waves, and idly swung his feet back and forth. He hoped he looked pathetic enough for Steve to feel bad and leave him alone with the whole clothes stealing thing… and to also make him a home cooked breakfast because stealth missions were hard work, and he was hungry.

“You always leave the light in my closet on,” Steve chuckled, playfully bumping Bucky’s shoulder as he walked by him and into the kitchen, dressed in his go-to casual outfit of a tight compression shirt and athletic shorts that left little to the imagination.

Well, fuck.

This time, it was Winter who sighed loudly. ‘This is why they don’t let us go on missions. You are pathetic.’

‘Shut up, Winter, we are not talking about that right now. And for the record, you never once mentioned the light,’ he snapped back, feeling petty.

‘I did! And you ignored me, so I stopped bothering.’

‘It’s true,’ past-Bucky whispered apologetically, showing Bucky a few memory snippets proving Winter’s claim true.

“Ahh. I did that on purpose to test your perception skills,” he bullshitted to Steve, deciding to ignore his former-selves for now. 

Steve grinned fondly, accepting his lie because he was a good friend like that. “Guess I passed, then, huh?”

“Yes, yes, very well done, Rogers, do you want a cookie?” Bucky grumbled, not really annoyed, but unsure just how much of the truth he should admit to. “There’s no way you can wear all that stuff, and if I didn’t wear it, then it’d just sit there in your fancy closet and collect dust, and that’s wasteful and not environmentally friendly, and Captain America shouldn’t advocate bad qualities like that. So, really, I’m doin’ ya a favor here and saving your reputation, you’re welcome, I’ll take my breakfast now, please.”

He batted his eyelashes before giving Steve a saucy wink.

Bucky knew he could get his own clothes by putting in just a little bit of effort… mostly tracking Wanda down and having her show him how the whole ‘online shopping’ concept worked. Or he could trust Steve to go out and get him some things (since Bucky wasn’t one for going outside lately, like, at all), but why bother? Plain and simple, he liked wearing Steve’s clothes, because they were Steve’s.

‘Woo, congrats, you’ve definitely crossed the line into creepy territory, Barnes,’ he mentally berated himself.

Past-Bucky, because he was a pal, supplied a few images of Steve wearing Bucky’s clothes over the years as they grew up… Bucky hadn’t fit into Steve’s clothes back then because Steve had been tiny and frail, but he could clearly see how much it pleased past-Bucky to witness the smaller boy walking around in his clothing.

Huh. Interesting.

“If it bothers you, I’ll stop, I promise,” he acquiesced after Steve only snorted in response to his previous comment, mentally crossing his fingers, ‘ please say no, please say no’ .

“It’s fine, Buck, you know I don’t mind sharing. I’m just teasing ya,” Steve answered earnestly, clearly afraid to offend the brunette.

Bucky exhaled quietly in relief. 

“Besides, they look better on you anyways.”

Bucky's heart stuttered at the compliment, and past-Bucky, who lived on compliments and attention from Steve, was obnoxiously squealing in the background. He smiled shyly at the blonde while keeping his mouth firmly shut, lest he say something embarrassingly untrue like, “And I look even better without them.” 

That was not a good direction to go, something both him and past-Bucky fully agreed on.

Forcing his eyes away from burning holes into Steve’s muscular back (how were his shoulders that broad, good lord, that shirt was suffering), he was relieved to see his friend had grabbed two frying pans and enough eggs and bacon to feed a six-member family of regular people. The brunette spent most of his early years looking after Steve, which he loved doing, but It made Bucky feel… he couldn’t find the correct word for it… safe?...valued??...loved???... to have Steve here and taking care of him in the same ways that past-Bucky had cared for the smaller, sickly Steve.

While their friendship pre-Hydra had been as easy as breathing, built upon years of familiarity, shared experiences, and not knowing a life without the other by their side, they were finding some parts of their current situation difficult to navigate. They rarely needed words to convey their thoughts and feelings in the past, but lately, Bucky found himself uncertain and insecure of what to say when it came to the ‘big’ things - should I say that? Does he understand what exactly I’m trying to say? Should I bring that memory up? Does he even want me around anymore? Does he know how much I need him? Should I tell him the idea of living in a world without him makes me not want to live in that world at all?

‘This might be why your therapist says you should focus on being your own person and not revolving your life around Steve…you should probably start listening to her, because Winter’s right, you’re fucking pathetic.’

Bucky wasn’t even offended when Winter and past-Bucky told him to shut up, because seriously , his inner voice was annoyingly self-critical today (Winter added that he was the only one allowed to be mean to Bucky, and his inner voice better learn his place quickly or else Winter would gladly show him where he stood). 

“You know what’s one of the hardest parts to accept about this future?...  the fact that we’re rich now, can you believe it?” Steve laughed dazedly over the glorious crackling sound of fresh bacon frying. 

Bucky’s stomach growled in response to the smells wafting over to him (because of the bacon only, he swears), and Steve wordlessly tossed a few more pieces into the overflowing pan.

“You’re rich now. I’m just a leech mooching off you.” The brunette tucked his legs under him, readjusting to a more comfortable position on the counter in an attempt to make the guilty feeling in his stomach go away. He hated lying to Steve, but there were some things his friend didn’t need to know, because then he’d have questions that Bucky didn’t really want to answer.

“Didn’t think I could ever get poorer than I was during the 30’s, but here I am.” 

Bucky wiggled his hands as if to say “ta-da!”

Steve frowned, casting the brunette a dismayed look. “You know what’s mine is yours, right? I got too much money to know what to do with, and you should have the same if the government could -”

“Could give me decades worth of backpay, too?” Bucky interrupted, knowing already how adamant Steve was about wanting Bucky to come back from the dead in the eyes of the law and be paid the money he is ‘owed for being a hero.’ 

“But they can’t give me all that money because I’m legally dead, Steve, it is what it is.” 

‘You don’t deserve it anyways, Barnes, how many innocent people did you murder as the Winter Soldier?’

He remembered everyone he killed with Hydra, but he’s not brave enough to tally it up, and Winter was blessedly mum on the topic, only saying, ‘We received our orders and completed missions as they trained us to do.’

Some things were better left as mysteries.

Bucky watched Steve fretfully fiddle with the loaf of bread he pulled from the pantry, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going (Steve hated how blasé Bucky was over the whole thing, but he also didn’t want to upset his friend by pushing the subject, a fact Bucky took full advantage of anytime the topic came up). 

“We’ll get it worked out, Buck, I promise.” And Bucky believed he would, too, because Steve was beyond stubborn and wouldn’t stop until he won whatever battle he partook in, and Bucky wished he had the courage to tell him not to waste his time. He didn’t need to be legally alive to fight alongside the other Super Soldier in his vigilante superhero group, and he certainly didn’t deserve any money for his ‘service.’ 

‘Service? Service?! What a fucking joke. The world would have been better off if you truly died falling off that train. Then, maybe you would deserve to be called a hero.’

Bucky brought his knees up, wrapping his arms around them and tucking his head down. He hated how fucking disgusting he felt, fuck; he didn’t deserve nice things, he deserved to be executed in the street for the atrocities he committed.

Sensing his friend’s sudden distress (though likely not guessing the correct reason for it), Steve lightly poked his leg until the brunette finally looked up, Bucky’s breath hitching in his throat when Steve reached out to gently cup his cheeks, blue eyes shining with compassion.

“I know things are hard right now, but I promise they’ll get better, Buck. And we’ll face them together, side by side, like how we were always meant to be.”

‘Steve still wants us around,’ past-Bucky whispered, his tone soft and comforting. ‘We can still make up for our past if we keep him safe.’

‘Who would protect Steve if we did not exist? We are the best suited to do so, and you know this,’ Winter firmly added.

Large thumbs delicately wiped the slowly falling tears off his cheeks, and oh, when had that happened?

“Because I’m with you -”

“Til the end of the line?” Bucky sniffed, feeling so worn out and tired all of a sudden. He hated how his thoughts were always whispering toxic comments when he least expected it, and while he appreciated the support from Winter and past-Bucky, how fucked up was he that he needed to be regularly cheered up by the other voices in his head?

“Til the end of the line, pal,” Steve confirmed with a nod. He leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to the top of Bucky’s hair.

For the first time since his programming broke, his head was radio silent.

Steve offered him a small, loving smile, before stepping back and returning to his cooking. Bucky saw the red flush creeping up his friend’s neck and was sure the blonde’s cheeks matched. 

“You know Pepper is a magician with things like that,” Steve added with a wave of his spatula. “it’s actually kind of crazy.”

Bucky snorted, gratefully accepting the peace offering. He subtly wiped his face on his sleeves, appreciating how soft and gentle the material was on his skin. “Shit, the way the future has been shaping up, she might just actually be a witch.”

Steve tossed his head back, laughing loudly, and it filled Bucky with a fierce sort of pride to know he caused that reaction. “Hell, wouldn’t that be something? Would explain how she puts up with Tony.”

Steve turned both burners off and grabbed two plates and a pair of mugs from the cabinet above their state of the art coffee maker (which had more buttons and levers than Bucky could even begin to determine the purpose of). Without needing directions, he built Bucky’s preferred morning breakfast sandwich with his exact desired ratio of egg to bacon, complete with a slice of tomato in the middle; he then did it again three more times until Bucky had four perfectly crafted sandwiches piled elegantly on his plate. 

Bucky almost shed a few more tears when the scent of his favorite expensive vanilla and cinnamon coffee wafted through the kitchen, especially upon seeing it brewed into his sparkly ‘Not Today Satan’ mug (with ‘Hydra’ in parentheses under the word ‘Satan’ because Wanda’s dark sense of humor was similar to his), two things he only brought out when he was having one of those days… 

Fuck, he was being spoiled today.

‘You don’t deserve to be spoiled by anyone, let alone someone as good as Steve Rogers.’ 

‘No, shut up asshole inner voice, we deserve nice things, our therapist and both past me’s said so, and Steve agrees, so stick a fucking knife in it. ’

‘I don’t think that’s how it goes…’

‘Fucking die, that’s how it goes, douchebag.’

‘Yes! You tell him...you?’ past-Bucky cheered, somewhat confused on the technicalities of bickering with one’s own inner voice, but still supportive. ‘You go future-self.’

‘Assassinate all the bad thoughts,’ Winter approved, supportive in his own murdery way.

Was it normal to have mental arguments with oneself? Or, fuck, was there a fourth voice in his head? Was that his conscience? Why was his conscience a dick?

Will he always be such a giant fucking shit show?

“True.” Shit, he waited too long to respond and now it’s weird. 

‘Steve’s always known we’re a bit of a mess, it’s okay! He’s used to it, we’re fine.’ (Past-Bucky was such a good dude; having him in his head was like a firsthand look at understanding why Steve tolerated his chaotic eccentricities.)

“Wanda will always be my favorite witch,” he added quickly, hoping to cover his social blunder of awkwardly not responding to Steve’s comment for several minutes. “So hopefully Pepper is like a space witch or some shit so we can differentiate the two.” 

Steve handed Bucky their plates, artfully organized so the heaping amounts of food fit perfectly in the available space. “Wanda is our favorite Earth witch, and Pepper would be our favorite alien witch?”

“Exactly!”

Bucky slipped off the counter and moved back into the living room, one plate in his flesh hand and the other balanced on the same arm, the heat prevented from seeping into his skin by the sweatshirt. Comfort and protection from external heat, what more could you ask for in life? 

‘Bullet-proof, fire resistant, Kevlar, color changing.’ (Winter wasn’t very good at rhetorical questions, the poor schmuck.)

“But you know... if you truly believe in the ‘what’s mine is yours’ concept, then I have a claim to these clothes, too,’ he smirked, randomly changing the topic as the thought suddenly occurred to him.

‘Excellent logic, future-self,’ past-Bucky genuinely praised. 

“You’re a menace, Buck,” Steve laughed fondly, two mugs delicately held in his large hands. 

Steve followed Bucky into the living room to eat their meal at the coffee table, mentally running through a list of movies that Clint had given him that were ‘family friendly without any dying animals.’ 

After accidentally traumatizing Bucky with Marley and Me in the early days when the ex-assassin had just been cleared to stay with Steve ( “It’s about a family and their dog, Bucky, I’m sure it will be cute and sweet! And it’s rated PG, so it’s kid friendly” ), Steve always vetted the movies he put on. Fuck, he would never forget look the of utter betrayal and devastation Bucky gave him before silently bawling into Steve’s shoulder to avoid seeing the family on the screen burying their dog. 

“Took you this long to realize that, Rogers?”

“Nah, I’ve known since the very first day we met, bud.”

Bucky seemed oddly pleased with that.

The two devoured their breakfast (Steve’s second) in record time, and Bucky swiftly deposited their empty plates into the sink.

“Anything in particular you want to watch this morning? Maybe, if there’s not, we can watch Tangled?” Bucky asked sheepishly when he returned, his gray eyes trained on the ground. 

They both knew ‘Tangled’ was his go-to comfort movie. 

His friend grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and bundled himself cozily into it, only a small part of his head peeking out ( “It’s called a Snuggie, Steve, and it has a hood! The future is awesome”). Steve wasn’t even surprised when Bucky’s legs ended up in his lap, and it made him deliriously happy that his friend was starting to initiate and accept physical contact again. He’d been so skittish at first, and it physically pained Steve every time his friend flinched or uneasily tolerated being touched, though he understood the reasoning behind it. 

It made his blood boil thinking about the things his Bucky endured for 70 years.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but a jarring sound reverberated through the living room and the accompanying flashing purple lights forced Bucky to shove his face into the armrest of the couch before they could give him a headache. 

Bucky questioned once, after the third time the alarm went off since he’d been staying at the Tower, why the ridiculous light display was needed when the Avengers Assemble alarm could wake the goddamn dead. Steve explained that it prevented Clint from using the ‘oh sorry, I didn’t have my hearing aids in’ excuse again. Purple, they agreed, was a good, neutral color, since red was just ‘tacky’ and blue made everyone feel like they were seconds away from being arrested...again. Bucky personally thought the whole thing was a bit obnoxious and could be remedied in ways that wouldn’t cause him early heart failure with the harsh sound or blinded by the bright lights, but the current system was effective so that had to count for something.

“Friday, confirmed.” 

“Thank you, Captain Rogers, I have alerted the boss you will be on your way, shortly. The others are gathering in the main common room upstairs.”

Bucky glanced up morosely from his safe haven now that the Purple Lights of Doom were finally gone, only to plant his face right back into the soft cushions Steve vacated when he rushed into his bedroom to change his outfit. He let out a frustrated scream - fucking Avenger missions he couldn’t go on, taking his Steve away, and ruining their day together. He begrudgingly removed himself from the safety of his Snuggie and pulled himself up to sit properly, flesh arm and metal arm crossed over his chest in what he hoped accurately displayed how utterly unfair he believed this whole thing to be. 

He was, without a doubt, the best suited to watch Steve’s back, and it was such bullshit that the team/his therapist wouldn’t clear him yet for missions. They always gave him a variety of vague answers about lack of trust, could he protect others that aren’t Steve, ehh, they didn’t think so, would he be able to work with a team and follow orders, ehh, they didn’t believe he could. There were so many examples he could give to refute these statements, and at the very bare minimum, the Winter Soldier was renowned for being the best assassin in Earth’s history… wouldn’t you want someone with that level of skill on your Superhero Team out fighting bad guys and protecting your Team’s leader instead of keeping them holed up in your opulent Hero Tower alternating between watching Disney movies and Animal Planet while eating their weight in organic cheetos from the health food store down the street?

It drove Bucky insane (or, more insane than he was normally) trying to work out the real reason he was stuck in this god forsaken tower with the children (Peter wasn’t always here, and he loved Wanda, but he would ditch her in a heartbeat if it meant he could go on missions with Steve, a fact he felt somewhat guilty about because Wanda was an angel).

He had an ever-growing suspicion that Steve himself was the reason he was forced to stay behind, where he was ‘safe’ from harm (physically, yes he was safest staying in the Tower, but emotionally? Being left behind and unable to help was akin to dipping his flesh hand in corrosive acid and being forced to stand there and watch it eat away the skin and bone; it absolutely wrecked Winter, past-Bucky, and himself not knowing what was happening to Steve while he was out on missions, and they were stuck in the Tower). 

Because, what people consistently failed to realize, including Steve himself, is that the dumbest, most dangerous shit Captain America has ever done occurred when Bucky wasn’t there to protect him. 

Examples include -

Volunteering for a mostly untested Super Soldier science experiment that could have just as easily killed or deformed him in some hideously, grotesque way? Bucky was off overseas fighting a war for his country (and all the while naively dreaming of the day he could return home and be reunited with Steve again). 

Dropping a plane filled with bombs into the icy Arctic instead of finding a safer but still viable solution? Bucky was ‘dead’ after falling off a train a whole fucking week earlier. 

Past-Bucky had a LOT to say on the subject of the reckless endeavors Steve partook in when Bucky wasn’t around and how drastically different things were when Bucky was present to curb some of Steve’s more impulsive tendencies. Like, seriously, he could write a novel on it, complete with complicated diagrams and crisp photo evidence.

‘Maybe we should make a PowerPoint like Peter uses for his classes?’ he suggested to his former-selves. ‘We could detail why exactly we should be allowed to go on missions, and Steve wouldn’t be able to ignore it because we put effort into creating it, and he’d feel bad not paying attention.’

‘We don’t know how to make a PowerPoint,’ past-Bucky wisely pointed out. 

‘What the fuck is a PowerPoint?’ Winter asked irritably.

Past-Bucky started to explain, but Winter cut him off. ‘Never mind, that sounds stupid and inefficient. Better idea - we should just drop a few dead Hydra agents on Steve’s bed while he’s away. Then, he’ll clearly see we are the superior choice to protect him, and we can even add a bow!’ Winter exclaimed hopefully. ‘You said bows are for gifts, and dead Hydra agents are gifts. This is an excellent idea, we must do it.’

Bucky shot that one down quickly, with past-Bucky backing him up… somehow, he didn’t think Steve would appreciate dead people on his bed, even if they were bad guys. 

Several minutes later, Steve exited his bedroom, fully suited up in his barely-adequate uniform’, with the shield strapped securely to his back. (Winter thought the uniform was suboptimal in regards to protecting vital body parts, but fully approved of the vibranium shield and regularly bitched that they should get one, too.)

He came to stand in front of a still pouting Bucky, the brunette growing increasingly more agitated the longer he thought about this injustice he regularly faced.

“Come on Buck, I don’t want to have this argument again.”

Was he seriously breaking out the ‘Captain America Has Important Things to Say and You Will Listen and Follow Instructions...or Else’ voice? 

Oof, two can play that game.

“Awesome, me neither,” he agreed, gracefully jumping to his feet to stand in front of the broader Super Soldier. He wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to being able to look Steve directly in the eye without one of them having to tilt their head, but sometimes it had its advantages (like now, when he was trying to make a point).

Steve blinked in confusion at the easy acquiesce, and the former-assassin smirked wickedly in response.  

“You should tell the team that I’m coming, too, and they have to accept it because you’re the leader.”

Bucky used his flesh hand to flirtatiously tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, and he flashed Steve the charming, roguish grin he’d seen himself use on countless others in fragments of memories from past-Bucky. He called this particular look - ‘Bucky Barnes Has Important Things to Say and You Will Listen and Follow Instructions...or Else.’

‘You’ve learned well, my future-self. I could legitimately shed a tear,” past-Bucky praised dramatically (as every part of Bucky would forever be).

Steve rolled his eyes, unaffected, slinging his arm over Bucky’s shoulder and steered him to the elevator.

“You know I’m not that kind of leader, Bucky.”

‘You did well! But uh… yeah, that look never really got us anywhere with Steve,’ past-Bucky admitted. ‘Works well with others, but Steve? Not so much.’

‘Maybe we should use the - The Winter Soldier Has Important Things to Say and You Will Listen and Follow Instructions...or Else - voice.’

‘That’s not a thing, Winter!’ past-Bucky grumbled.

‘It could be if it allowed us to complete the mission,’ Winter sniped back.

‘No, shut up, you’re dumb and never contribute anything useful. It’s annoying,’ past-Bucky griped, and Bucky pictured him stamping his foot in irritation.

Bucky internally rolled his eyes, both at his bickering past selves and at Steve. Sure, he knew Steve wasn’t the dictator-leader type, and usually Bucky appreciated that in his friend, but in this instance? Not so much. 

Especially if he was being a lying son of a bitch right now and was the one hinting to the team and his therapist that he should stay behind? Yeah, not gonna fly, buddy.

He knew he wouldn’t win this argument at the moment, not with Steve already dressed and ready to head out. A very tiny part of him would even admit he is okay with letting it go this time, mostly because he’s just feeling soft and un-murdery this morning (for now at least, but the day was still young). 

A different part of him, however, the part that was dominated by past-Bucky’s thoughts and desires, wanted to be selfish and childish and block the blonde from pushing the up button for the elevator - because Steve couldn’t leave him behind if he couldn't get to the mission in the first place. 

‘Your genius is astounding,” Winter sarcastically remarked.

(Sometimes, Bucky misses the days when Winter would only make paranoid comments but would otherwise stay silent for days on end…)

But even when his memories were a jumbled, chaotic mess after beginning to break free from his programing at the end of the fight on the helicarrier, he knew that Steve was stubborn and petty as fuck; he also didn’t want Steve to be angry at him and end up distracted during a dangerous mission, especially since Bucky wouldn’t be there to watch his six. And regardless, if Bucky was the Prince of Pettiness, then Steve was the King, and likely would just jab one of his pointy elbows into Bucky’s sternum and leave him there gasping for breath while joining the others by way of the staircase.

Bucky was intelligent enough to not test his theory but a phantom pain in his chest had him using his flesh hand to tenderly rub the area anyways.

Lost in thought, Bucky was startled out of his internal musings when the elevator dinged, and the doors soundlessly glided open in front of him; he wasn’t sure if Steve pushed the button while he was distracted, or if Friday sent it recognizing he was avoiding pushing it. 

His question was answered when they stepped in, however, Steve’s arm slipping off his shoulders as they moved to arrange themselves around the other, much younger occupant. 

“Hey, Mr. Captain Steve America Rogers and Bucky! ( “It’s just, Steve, kid, please, it’s been months”). Oh, wow, Bucky, I love your sweatshirt! It looks so soft, and that cat is super cute. Are you leaving for a mission right now? Ugh, just kidding, don’t answer that, of course you are. Unless you just wear your suit around the Tower? Because like, mine is pretty comfortable so I get that but - “

Bucky stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the rambling teen, successfully cutting the boy off, and gently smushed the side of Peter’s face into his chest with his metal hand.

“Missed you, kid,” he sincerely said, ignoring Steve’s astounded expression; Bucky and Peter spent a lot of time together lately (often with Wanda, too) while Steve was off being Captain America, either on missions, training, or never-ending meetings, so the other Super Soldier likely didn’t realize how close the two truly were.

“Oh. This is nice, I missed you, too, man, you smell really good, not to be weird or anything,” Peter retorted, hugging Bucky firmly back. “I’m sorry I don’t have any new books for you today, but while you’re in my backpack, I did grab some fresh plums for you on the way here if you want those.”

“Bucky!” Steve sputtered, gaping at the brunette man and holding a hand to his chest in shock.

Bucky lowered his arms back to his side, including his flesh hand which had been soundlessly rifling through Peter’s backpack, but not before ruffling the teen’s hair and grinning proudly. “Very good, kid! I’ll save the plums for later, but you’re getting good at using your senses… unlike some people.”

Bucky cast Steve a judgmental glance; he reached into his own pocket, pulled out the blonde’s phone he pilfered when they entered the elevator, and held it out to the offended man.

‘Another reason we are needed on missions; the lack of situational awareness is alarming,’ Winter groaned in dismay. ‘I am; concerned.’

“Bucky, you can’t just -”

“Relax, pal, it’s just a training game we play, which you failed horrifically, but Peter passed with flying colors,” Bucky cut Steve off with a laugh before he could get into full lecture mode. “Shouldn’t you be in school considering it’s a Tuesday morning, Peter?”

“Oh! Yeah, about that…” Peter laughed nervously, running a hand through his dark hair. He glanced behind him to peek timidly at Steve, the blonde raising an eyebrow in response, his expression shifting to his token ‘Captain America is Disappointed in You’ look, despite not knowing the situation. (Bucky found it odd how Steve had a weird sixth sense for when someone was causing havoc and mayhem, even if they were doing it unintentionally. It was probably because Steve caused complete and utter chaos wherever they went growing up, his wicked streak only tampered by his strong moral compass and Bucky spending half his time steering him in the other direction, sometimes literally.)  

The boy gulped, his expression losing some of the star-struck wonder it carried anytime Steve Rogers was involved (and how Peter was still starry-eyed over Steve despite months of semi-frequent interaction, Bucky will never understand, but he secretly loved it, because if Peter should be awed by anyone, it’s Steve and not Tony fucking Stark, who was decent, he supposed, but definitely not idol material for an impressionable teen. It’s just an added bonus that Peter is Stark’s protégé, and Bucky knows it kills the man that the young hero holds someone besides himself with such high regard).

Peter turned to face Bucky instead, eyes glued to the floor in front of the ex-assassin, “So you see, someone was mixing chemicals before school trying to create a strong adhesive, or so it’s assumed by the way chunks of goo were stuck to the ceiling, but something went wrong, and it caused an explosion in the freshman labs where they were experimenting because they must be a freshman.” 

Steve opened his mouth, clearly ready to lay into the teen for lord knows what, the fucking hypocrite, but shut it resolutely after Bucky made a slashing motion across his throat, complete with a sharp glare for good measure. He wanted to hear the full story, and he didn’t need Captain America to butt in with his morals and ethics .

“And that damaged some projects that were being stored in a cabinet which caused the entire school to fill with some sort of ominous green smoke slash gas combo that the school administrators deemed likely safe since no one had keeled over, except the one asthmatic kid who forgot his inhaler. But he’s fine! He just needed to leave the building and the ambulance gave him one of those oxygen mask things for a bit, but I saw him walk to his mom’s car, so he’s good,” Peter added after hearing Steve’s shark intake of breath. “They didn’t know for sure if it was safe, so they let us all go home early, and Happy picked me up and brought me here because Aunt May didn’t answer her phone since she’s at work. So yeah, I am here for the day...” 

“Peter!” Steve gasped, appalled by the tale. Bucky bit his lip to keep the laugh in... Steve was such a fucking mom these days, and if his own mother could see him now? Lord, that woman put up with so much shit from him (and Bucky), and she would have loved to see the start of karma coming for his ass.

‘Which looks amazing in that uniform, by the way,’ his treacherous thoughts supplied.  

Ugh, it did. Fuck.

“What were you thinking?!” Steve squawked, waving his hands as he talked. 

“But it’s okay! Because we go to a STEM school that’s basically built to withstand a nuclear explosion, or you know, teen science nerds, so only a few beakers and tables were damaged… and the projects the freshmen were working on. Or so I heard. Rumors, ya know, can you really trust them?” Peter chuckled awkwardly before shrugging.

“I mean, obviously you weren’t thinking, or else you wouldn’t have done something so unnecessarily risky,” Steve continued his rant right over Peter’s last words (and like, wow, when did Steve ever take an unnecessary risk? Uh, like maybe every fucking day of his life), working himself into a tizzy that had Bucky quickly turning his back to the others so he could use his metal hand to harshly pinch his side to keep his mirth in. Fuck, Steve’s pale skin was starting to flush red all over, and Bucky needed to cut in before he lost it… he’s not even sure if he means Steve losing it or himself at this point. 

“That is so dangerous, you -”

“Were only telling a story of something someone else did, right, Peter?” 

Bucky twisted back to face the other two now, his laughter mostly contained as long as he didn’t stare at the remaining rosy splotches clinging to Steve’s cheeks.  

“Yep, totally,” Peter nodded rapidly, still not making eye contact with either of the Super Soldiers for more than a second. “Just a story I had zero part in.”

“It’s too bad we didn’t have any smart science nerd freshmen back in our school,” Bucky mused, ignoring Steve’s frustrated huff. “We could have used a day or two off that wasn’t due to some awful blizzard or hurricane.”

“This isn’t a good thing that happened, Bucky!” Steve shrieked, and oof, the red splotches were spreading across his ivory skin again.

“Nah, it’s not that bad, Rogers.” Bucky made sure they both saw him roll his eyes, because, really , has Steve always been so dramatic?

‘Yep, definitely, it’s why we got along,’ past-Bucky smoothly remarked.  

Ah, makes sense, then.

“As long as that freshman learned from their mistakes, like knowing what chemical they shouldn’t have used, or how they shouldn’t use their own classroom, then it’s fine.”

“We shouldn’t encourage this,” Steve growled, his hands on his hips, staring Bucky down as if he would give in from the sheer force of Steve’s glare. “It’s irresponsible, and someone could have been hurt...or killed!”

“Or worse, expelled ,” Peter stage whispered.

“We aren’t encouraging shit,” Bucky forcefully contradicted, scowling at the other man, because come on , Steve, lighten up a little. “It’s all hypothetical.”

“Clearly,” Steve sarcastically drawled, before correcting his posture to stand up straight, shoulders back, as if he was preparing for a fight. He stepped closer to Bucky, and Bucky took a step forward in return, unwilling to back down on this.

To be fair, Bucky knew Peter was the instigator, but the kid was smart as a whip, so he trusted him to not blow the school up or some other stupid shit with his science experiments. And Peter likely felt bad over the whole incident (even if it got him a free day out of school), because he was a good kid; Steve was blowing this vastly out of proportion, and Bucky refused to allow Peter to take the heat for Steve’s inability to see sense. 

Poor forgotten Peter was stuck in the middle between them, Bucky’s chest inches from the boy’s right shoulder, and Steve’s chest inches from his left, forcing him to face the front of the elevator so he could breathe.

“You know what’s funny, Stevie ?”

“Umm, guys?”

“Yeah, Bucky , what’s funny?” 

“Guys?..”

“I distinctly remember a time during one of our sciences classes you thought it would be a good idea to - “

“ Hem hem .”

“You fucking swore a blood oath you would take that to the grave -”

“Well, a part of me died when I fell off the train, so technically I did take it to the grave, and now it’s fair game -”

“ Hem Hem?”

“Guys! Please don’t fight.”

Steve reeled back, blanching, looking utterly devastated by Bucky’s tactless remark.

All three parts of himself groaned in pain. 

Fuck, he never meant to let that thought slip.

‘Mission alert! Imminent mission failure - must protect Steve. Causing pain is not compatible with the mission objective,’ Winter screeched. ‘FIX IT!’

‘I’m still here, too, I didn’t die after the train. Just went away for a bit,’ past-Bucky softly pointed out. ‘Which you know, so that was just mean.’

“No, Buck -”

He slid his hands into his sweatshirt pocket and gave the other man a self-conscious smile. “I’m sorry, that was low, and it’s not true at all.”

Steve’s lip wobbled, and he kept his eyes down as he struggled to find the words he wanted to say.

Bucky sensed his other two counterparts appearing behind him, and he cast a quick glance over his right shoulder to see past-Bucky give him a soft, encouraging smile, before tilting his head towards Steve’s slumped form.

Unwilling to see his closest friend upset and understanding the silent message, Bucky closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around the other Super Soldier in a bone crushing hug. 

Because, sometimes, they just didn’t need words at all.

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” he whispered forlornly.

He felt the tension leak out of Steve progressively as the hug went on, Bucky’s own body relaxing in response. 

“Me, too, Buck,” Steve quietly responded back, his chin resting on the top of Bucky’s head.

Someone made a wheezing sound (“oh my god, why is this my life?”), but Bucky was too focused feeling relieved he hadn’t completely fucked up to give it much thought.

“ HEM HEM”

They both jumped apart in shock, turning their gazes away from each other and facing the doors of the elevator, where, oh shit, a room full of Avengers were gawking at them from their various perches in the living room.

“Are we interrupting your lover’s spat?” Stark sarcastically asked, arms crossed over his chest as he tapped his foot impatiently. Bucky silently thanked his ancestors for blessing him with a somewhat darker complexion since it hid most of the blush he could feel heating up his cheeks. “Or you know, getting in the middle of it? Oh, I don’t know, perhaps quite literally in some cases.”

Steve caught on first. “Oh my god, Peter, I am so sorry, are you okay?”

“It’s okay Mr. Captain Steve, I’m just glad you guys worked it out! I’m fine, the bruises will heal in no time, but the weird dreams may stick around for a while, so I will just make a concerted effort to never stand in between you two again.”

Bucky patted Peter on the head and tried to hide his smile. “Sorry, kid.”

“Good, glad we got that mess out of the way.” They all followed Stark out of the elevator and into the top level Avengers common room floor which was essentially a kitchen, dining room, living room, and game area in one, Bucky’s past selves shadowing him closely.

“You should get some throat lozenges, Tony, that cough doesn’t sound too good,” Steve commented concernedly, his eyes wide with fake worry; Bucky smirked at the blonde appreciatively, Steve winking back when their gazes met.

‘Still baffled that no one has caught on to the fact that Steve’s a little shit,’ past-Bucky whispered conspiringly.

“Because I’d love to say you can continue your little show,” Stark continued, ignoring Steve completely, “since we all love free drama and reality shows these days are just so gauche , and your dynamic is extremely intriguing, you know? But we kind of have a situation that requires this one,” he pointed to Steve, “and this situation, shockingly, is urgent, since that’s kind of our thing and all. And by urgent, I mean we need to move quickly, and I know that’s hard for you senior citizens, but we don’t have time for your theatrics right now, and by the way, did I just hear Steve Rogers say a swear word? Did anyone else hear that, please tell me someone else heard that?” 

Stark gazed imploringly around at the room’s other occupants. 

“I heard it!” Clint confirmed from the couches, waving a hand into the air. 

“Affirmative,” the Widow calmly added. 

“I didn’t hear shit,” Wilson claimed, because he was a pathetic suck-up.

‘You are so mean,’ past-Bucky snorted. ‘Steve can have other friends.’  

‘Friends with inferior skills who still get to go on missions with him while we’re left behind? Not acceptable,’ Winter rejected, peevishly crossing his arms over his chest.

‘Agreeing with Winter on this.’

Bucky raised his eyebrow at the blonde, because that was probably one of the strangest things he’d heard Tony Stark say, and by some shitty luck (or because Stark had made Bucky’s new metal arm after deciding he didn’t trust the Hydra one, meaning the two had spent a lot of time together), he’d heard an outrageous amount of weird shit from the other Avenger. 

Steve shrugged sheepishly but kept silent.

“Because we’re going to talk about that when we get back, because what the fuck goes on? Captain America swearing? It just boggles my mind, and in case you forgot, I’m a genius, so very few things boggle my mind.”

“You know nothing, Tony Snow,” Wanda quipped from across the room, earning a high five from the red headed Widow. 

Bucky wondered if Stark and Peter were distantly related, or if word vomit was a common symptom in genius people. Fuck, he hoped it wasn’t contagious, he spent a large portion of his free time with the youngest hero, and he would die if he developed something like that. His thoughts, in all their chaos, needed to stay safely tucked in his head, please and thank you.

‘And you just had to put that idea out there into the universe, didn’t you?’ past-Bucky grumbled, while Winter shuddered wordlessly next to him.

“Oh, our theatrics?” Steve brushed past Bucky to walk further into the room, ignoring the comment about his language, which, damnit, Bucky needed answers. “That’s just really fucking rich coming from someone -”

Stark gasped loudly, dramatically bringing his hand to cover his mouth, and Peter’s eyes widened so much that they looked like they were going to pop out of his head. 

‘Does Steve not curse in the future?!’

His two past selves shrugged, past-Bucky looking exceptionally skeptical.

Now that’s some bullshit Bucky was not buying; hell, he remembers several incidents of overhearing little Steve mumbling swear words in his sleep.

“Steve,” Bucky sighed, lightly placing a hand on his friend’s arm and giving him a look that didn’t require words ( Let it go).

Steve glared back, his jaw clenched tightly ( No, he insulted us!)

‘Stubborn asshole,’ past-Bucky whispered fondly. ‘Always trying to pick fights with people when he should just walk away.’

Bucky narrowed his eyes, raising a single judging eyebrow ( Do you have to fight everyone, Rogers? Jesus, let it go for now, and move on. There’s more important things to deal with right now than avenging your wounded pride because someone called your dramatic ass out).

“Fine,” Steve growled aloud, but only after flicking Bucky in the forehead because he’s a petty asshole who always needed the last word. Bucky was practically overflowing with past-Bucky’s (and his own) fondness at this point. 

Steve turned to face Stark, his professional Captain America mask in place while Bucky rubbed his forehead, frowning at how badly it stung. “What’s the situation?”

Bucky, because he wasn’t a five year old, ignored the abuse to his forehead and gently squeezed Steve’s arm before letting go ( Good job, buddy, I’m proud of you).  

Steve’s answering smile was blinding, and Bucky scuttled away before doing something stupidly embarrassing, like spewing out his feelings or something similarly gross. He joined Wanda on the plush loveseat farthest from the elevator, the one they called dibs on during movie nights (Steve usually sat on the floor in front of them, claiming he liked the space to spread out, but having the blonde’s weight pressed against his legs was extremely calming; Bucky was regrettably out of practice with the whole socializing thing, and being in a dark room full of dangerous people wasn’t the most sedate activity for a formerly brainwashed assassin, even with his past selves at his back… literally).

“Hey, James.” Wanda patted his leg in greeting, her eyes glued to the game she was playing on her phone (she asked him early on if she could call him ‘James’ because, and quote, “it feels weird calling a grown man ‘Bucky’, no offense”).

“Peter will be staying behind with us today,” he remarked, tucking his legs under him and leaning against her shoulder, pretending like he understood the game she was playing - something about a farm and growing crops? She said it was relaxing, so maybe he’d ask her to teach him; he could use some more zen in his life, especially with one Steve Rogers trying to send him to an early grave.

‘Ask her how many other farmers she had to kill so far to become the top farmer,’ Winter demanded, leaning forward and trying to see her phone screen from his position behind the loveseat - Bucky struggled to keep his face neutral, because what the fuck.

‘I don't think that’s how it works buddy,’ past-Bucky answered after a moment, and Bucky didn’t need to turn around to see his judgmental look aimed at the former Winter Soldier.

‘Oh, how boring then,’ Winter scoffed, moving back into a standing position and suspiciously observing the others in the room. 

Wilson and Clint occupied the large leather couch in the center of the room, along with a slender man drinking tea whom Bucky had never met before. Natasha claimed the love seat across from Wanda by herself, allowing her plenty of space to to freely sharpen her knives so she wouldn’t “accidentally” stab someone… again (“Oops, sorry Clint, didn’t mean to nick you”). 

Vision, the sentient but non-human/non-robot man with a magical stone in his head (Steve had a hard time explaining that part, and Bucky just accepted the future was wild and moved on), floated behind the couch, observing but not participating in any of the conversations going on around him. Bucky saw him casting surreptitious glances in Wanda’s direction when he believed no one was looking, and the brunette filed that little tidbit away to tease the witch about later.

“Oh, hey, Bucky,” Clint greeted, his smile wide and friendly. “Love the look you’re rocking today, man, you look fucking adorable if you don’t mind me saying.”

‘Yes, we look soft and unthreatening to lure you into a false sense of security, and then we stab you right in the appendix!’ Winter cackled manically. ‘Cute, but deadly.’

‘But… we like Clint, right?’ Past-Bucky tentatively asked, and Bucky nodded subtlety in response.

‘That’s why we stab him in the appendix, idiot. He’ll survive, but we make a point of our overall superiority,’ Winter answered snidely. ‘Others we don’t like won’t be so lucky, of course.’

‘Oh, yes, of course, how silly of me,’ past-Bucky sarcastically responded.

Clint Barton was pretty much the only fully-fledged Avenger that Bucky honestly and truly liked (besides Steve, of course). From the very first time they met, Clint had been warm and welcoming, a drastic change from the suspicious glances, tenseness, and snide comments from nearly everyone else he’d come in contact with when he first came to the Tower. On one of Bucky’s bad days, when he was feeling bitter and angry and small and so very pathetic, several weeks before he was finally allowed to move in with Steve, Bucky had furiously demanded to know why Clint was so nice to him. 

The archer had said, “I’ve been brainwashed before, by a vengeful alien god and forced to do terrible things I had no control over. It wasn’t for more than a few days or so, but it was fucking awful, and I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. Because, it was my hands that did those terrible things, and my body, but not my brain, not truly; how are you even supposed to move on from something like that? I attacked the one person who means the most to me in the entire goddamn world, and I will never fucking forgive myself for that, even though she forgives me and was the one who saved me from his clutches. And, I don’t really have any advice for you, but I get it, ya know? So yeah, that’s why I’m nice to you… because I’ve been there, too, and I’m sure your brain is telling you something different, but it’s not your fault, man, and I hope one day we’ll both believe that about ourselves.”

“Oh… thanks, Clint, I appreciate that,” he mumbled, giving the man a shy grin and quickly averting his gaze back to Wanda’s phone, uncomfortable with the attention everyone was suddenly paying him.

“James is always adorable,” Wanda smirked, finally glancing up from her device.

“Cute but deadly,” he sniffed, turning his nose up haughtily.

“Like a cat,” Natasha snickered, curling her hand like she had a paw with claws. “But with knives.”

“Hey, Bucky, have you met Bruce?” Clint suddenly asked, pointing at the other man in the room that Bucky hadn’t known. “He’s Tony’s science buddy and was in space for a bit until a few days ago.”

The man in question next to Wilson waved. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, Bucky, I’ve heard a lot about you. And I agree with Clint; that’s a nice sweatshirt you got there.”

Bucky winced at the implications of the man’s words. “Can’t be too nice to meet me, then, depending on who you talked to.”

Wanda rested her head against his in silent comfort.

‘Uh, fucking false. He should be honored to meet us,’ Winter firmly contradicted, and Bucky had to resist rolling his eyes at his past self’s ego.

“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” Bruce swiftly corrected, shaking his head. “Trust me, I don’t judge, either. I know what it’s like to have a part inside you that you can’t really control and that can hurt others so easily that it’s hard to comprehend sometimes.”

“Oh, you’re...” Bucky tried to think of how to word it without offending this man who had shown him such understanding within mere minutes of meeting. “The green guy that saved Stark from falling to his death after he went into space with that nuke when aliens were invading but then disappeared a few years later after helping stop the evil robots from destroying the entire world?”

‘Also extremely volatile and dangerous to be around, in case you missed that part,’ Winter added, shifting restlessly while eyeing the timid Bruce seated on the couch.

Bruce blinked owlishly, his lips turning down into a slight frown. “Well, that’s an overly simplified version of the other guy but-“

“It’s the one that matters,” Bucky firmly asserted. “And you give Steve the best gifts.” He pointed down to his astronaut kitten sweatshirt. 

Steve explained to him how dangerous the Hulk was, sure, but if this guy couldn’t be seen as a hero when he had actually done heroic things with the team, then what hope was there for Bucky to become anything remotely close to that?

Stark, Steve, and Peter finally finished their discussion (Bucky assumed it was about Peter’s training) and joined them in the living area, putting an end to his stare down with Bruce. The younger hero sat on the armrest of Bucky and Wanda’s shared loveseat, and he briefly wondered if Peter was sitting next to him so he wouldn’t block Vision’s view of Wanda, or if he just preferred to sit by Bucky in general. Was Bucky the only one who noticed the synthezoid’s interest in the youngest female Avenger?

‘Or maybe he is just terrified and awkward around girls,'   past-Bucky whispered, and their gazes simultaneously shifted down to Steve, the other Super Soldier taking his customary seat on the floor in front of Bucky.

‘But he’s spent months around Wanda, why would he still be awkward?’

Wanda and Peter had taken their self-assigned task of “Introducing Bucky Barnes to All the Cool Things in the World” very seriously, and the three of them were pretty much attached at the hip if Peter wasn’t in school/patrolling and Wanda wasn’t in training with Clint and/or Natasha (Bucky didn’t really have a life, so he was pretty much always free unless Steve was around, but even then, they’d usually just include Steve in their activity). 

Past-Bucky shared a brief memory of a much younger Steve -

(“Not everyone can be smooth and confident around dames, Bucky, even if they grew up with each other; females are frightening, and I don’t know how you can’t see that.” Past-Bucky had just laughed uproariously at his friend, slung an arm around an indignant Steve’s skinny shoulders, and tucked the blonde protectively into his side).

Stark’s booming voice brought Bucky back to the present.

“Alright, listen up Avengers, Baby Avengers, and Pet Assassin ( “Tony!”) , sorry Cap, Pet Ex-Assassin, if you can bring your attention to our brand spankin new, next-level television screen, Friday will pull up what we know so far about our situation.”

“Psst, Widow,” Bucky whispered, his voice purposefully louder than it needed to be. “Are you going to let him talk about you like that?” 

Natasha raised an eyebrow at Bucky, expertly twirling one of her many shiny blades around her fingers; Clint’s pleased snicker made the comment worth it, even though Winter was losing his shit at the potential threat.

‘She’s going to stab you in your sleep,’ past-Bucky warned, only partially joking.

‘I would like to see her try,’ Winter growled darkly. ‘It would be a good excuse to eliminate a threat.’

‘She watches Steve’s back, though,’ past-Bucky reminded both of them, and damn, he had a point.

“No, Natasha,” Steve wearily reprimanded, running a hand tiredly over his face. Natasha frowned, her shoulders slumping dejectedly, but she sheathed the weapon and began the arduous process of strapping the plethora of knives into her uniform (even Winter was skeptical they would all fit).

“Okay, children, settle down,” Bruce calmly directed, his frame appearing startlingly small on the couch in between Wilson and Clint’s bulkier forms. “It’s time to go to work.”

“Good to see you, Bruce,” Steve genuinely said, and Bucky could hear the friendly smile in his voice. “Glad you’re back.”

‘Steve is such a nice guy,’ past-Bucky sighed wistfully. ‘Even back in my day, he was always amicable and kind to people.’

‘Until he wasn’t,’ Bucky chuckled.

‘Until he wasn’t,’ past-Bucky agreed with a snort. ‘To be fair, the people Steve didn’t get along with always deserved his scorn.’

“Yes, thank you Brucey, appreciate it bud. Love the new sweater, by the way, is it cashmere?”

“Tony.”

“Ah, yes, Cap, don’t get your panties in a twist. Or are you a brief kind of guy? No, no, never mind, no one besides Barnes really needs to know.”

‘What the fuck?’ past-Bucky hissed, echoing Bucky’s own thoughts.

“What -”

“So!” Stark energetically continued, clapping his hands together twice and cutting Steve off, the Super Soldier huffing in annoyance. “Pack your straw hats, folks, and plenty of sunscreen, because we are heading to the infamous birthplace of Spring Break… or the place where Americans go to die, depending on your perspective. Yes, you guessed it, we are off to Florida! Some assholes decided to play God and tried creating a new species of reptile that, oh can you believe it, is now going on a ferocious rampage through the swamp.”

A picture of an honest to god Swamp Monster appeared on the screen, taken from either a satellite or a drone, and Bucky squinted, convinced his eyes were playing tricks. He tilted his head slowly in each direction as his brain tried to figure out what the fuck he was looking at, seeing the others and his past selves in his peripheral vision doing the same.

“Do we know what they were attempting to mix? And why?” Steve smartly questioned, because seriously, what the fuck was the purpose of creating this monstrosity other than setting it loose on the population?

“It looks like Godzilla with wings. But the water version,” Wilson immediately replied, and Bucky bit his lip to keep himself from commenting that the Swamp Monster looked a lot like Wilson when he had his Falcon wings on.

‘Say it coward, I dare you,’ Winter jeered.

“With the nose of a platypus, though,” Clint promptly added.

“It’s called a snout, Clint, not a nose.”

“Thank you, Natasha. Our mission would clearly go off the rails without the vital piece of data.”

“Umm… I think I know,” Peter mumbled in response to Steve’s question, and Bucky wasn’t surprised when only Steve turned expectantly to the teen. Even with enhanced hearing and sitting a foot away, Bucky barely heard the kid, and Clint’s bickering with Natasha didn’t make it any easier. 

Peter fiddled nervously with the web shooters around his wrist, undoubtedly anxious to speak in front of a room full of “heroes” - the teen superhero wasn’t usually in the presence of more than two or three of them at a time. Being around (almost) the whole group was exceptionally overwhelming, something the former-assassin understood completely.

Bucky gently grabbed the teen’s hand, squeezing it softly in encouragement (but also so Peter wouldn’t actually embarrass himself by raising his hand like he was in school), before letting it go. 

“Peter has an idea,” Bucky announced to the group, his voice loud enough to cut over the spies squabbling with one another. 

Bucky’s hand shot out, senses sharper than his thoughts in this instance, and he hoisted Peter back onto the love seat before he could crash onto the floor in all his flailing glory. 

“Uhh..” Peter stammered, eyes impossibly wide as he found himself the spotlight in a room full of his idols.

“Go ahead, Peter,” Steve encouraged kindly, turning to smile softly at the nervous teen. His eyes caught Bucky’s, and his smile broadened, Bucky’s heart stuttering in response as he quickly grinned back.

Peter’s eyes darted shyly to Bucky, who gave a short nod in response, patting the teen’s knee.

“So, a fossil for Dunkleosteus was uncovered in Florida a few years ago.”

“Bless you.”

“Shut up, Tony.”

Peter noticed the confused looks he was getting from everyone except Vision.

“It’s, um, a water dinosaur fish thing basically. With natural body armor, incredibly strong jaw, and a reputation for being one of the fiercest predators of all land and marine creatures during the time before it went extinct.”

“Oh, awesome, I definitely had prehistoric war fish on my villain bingo card,” Wilson grumbled.

“Yes, right next to the medieval fire-breathing dragons,” Stark sarcastically added.

Natasha finished stuffing her uniform with all her knives, and Winter had questions . 

“At least dinosaurs are from Earth, and it’s not aliens again,” she remarked, reaching down to pull a sleek, black rectangular case from under the loveseat. Bucky forced his gaze away from the display and placed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, all three parts of himself sighing longingly, for once agreeing on something besides ‘Steve Rogers Must be Protected at ALL Costs’ - they missed using their guns, their fingers itching for the comfort their customized rifle provided.

“Never thought I’d miss the robots,” Clint melodramatically sighed, dragging his quiver out from under the coffee table and began meticulously rearranging his arrows (Bucky and Peter both lowered their eyes trying to guess what goodies existed under their loveseat).

Winter crouched down, flattening his stomach onto the ground as he assessed their furniture. ‘Nothing interesting, just the Glock G29 we put under here.’

Bucky winced internally, having completely forgotten he hid anything under there and wondering when was the last time he assessed and cleaned all the weapons he hid around the Tower for possible emergencies.

‘It’s been WEEKS!’ Winter hissed judgmentally.

‘Oh, shit, uh, I’ll get right on that when we can get away from everyone.’

‘You said that last week,’ past-Bucky noted without judgment. ‘And then the week before that, too.’

“Any good news, Peter?” Steve valiantly asked, once again leading the conversation back in the desired direction (and unknowingly pulling Bucky from his internal crisis). 

“It’s known for swimming slowly, and it didn’t have wings normally, considering it breathes underwater and all, so it may struggle to move with the added weight on its back. Honestly, wings don’t really make sense, so not sure what they were going for there unless it’s just to terrify people.” (If that’s the case, the creators did a good job there, considering it made even the fearless Winter uneasy).

“It also didn’t have a snout, so it’s jaw may not work as effectively.” Natasha turned smugly to Clint at the word ‘snout’, the archer rolling his eyes exasperatedly. “The fossil was supposed to be displayed in the museum in the state’s capital, but it disappeared before it got there.” 

“So our villain of the day got their hands on this duckfishtus -”

“Dunkleosteus, Mr. Stark,” Peter politely corrected.

“The duckfishtus was combined with some sort of winged creature -”

“Probably a winged dinosaur like a pterodactyl,” Vision knowledgeably added. 

“And now we have this monstrosity, the duckfishtus 2.0,’ Tony determinedly finished, pointing at the screen.

They all shuddered at the image displayed; this would not be a simple mission for anyone, including Bucky, his anxiety spiking just by looking at the length and sharpness of the creature's teeth.

Steve reached up, placing his right hand on his own shoulder as if he was going to rub a sore muscle; when he wiggled his fingers, Bucky took the hint and entwined their fingers together. The blonde gave his hand a squeeze, gently caressing Bucky’s hand with his thumb before dropping his arm back down to his lap.

‘Start crying,’ past-Bucky suddenly demanded.

‘What? No! Why…?’ 

‘Maybe if you cry at the idea of Steve going off to fight that terrible monster without you, he’ll take you with him. Or stay behind if you throw a proper fit.’

Winter snorted derisively. 'Yeah, no, don’t do that. They will think you’re weak and pathetic, and then we’ll never get to go.’

‘Well, you are weak and pathetic, so they’ll just be learning the truth about you,’ his inner voice chimed; it was promptly shouted down by his two former- selves.

“Looks like Bruce came back just in time, this is gonna be a tough one,” Clint acknowledged, bumping his shoulder lightly into Bruce’s.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Natasha scoffed, agilely dodging his foot flying out to kick her shin; Clint sucked in a sharp breath when the Widow returned the kick and didn’t miss her target.

“So,” Clint resolutely continued, glaring at the red head who stuck her tongue out at him. “We need to make sure we’re communicating consistently and analyzing for weak points before we get too close.”

“We can talk about it on the quinjet, we’ve wasted a lot of time already,” Steve said, his voice deep and steady, easily carrying across the room. He had switched fully into Captain-America-Leader-Mode, and Bucky noted everyone suddenly sat up a little straighter, himself included. “But we’ll fight this thing as we do every other obstacle we’ve been up against; together, as a team.” 

‘We should be on that team,’ past-Bucky muttered bitterly, Winter nodding sulkily next to him.

At Steve’s comment, Friday blessedly turned the screen off, and the others began standing up, gathering their gear and for Clint, a few bags of chips from the bowl in the center of the table. Bucky and the two youngest sedately followed behind the Team, as it was tradition for anyone remaining behind to see the others off if they were able to.

“Steve,” Wilson began quietly, walking side by side with Steve at the front of the pack as the group exited the elevator onto the roof where the tarmac was located. Bucky’s ears perked up, and since Peter stopped in the middle of a rousing play by play of some nerd robot sports show he watched the other day (the future was so fucking weird, like... robot sports?), he wasn’t the only one eavesdropping. 

Wanda, perhaps noticing Steve and Wilson with their heads bent together in a heated discussion or because she had a Bucky-needs-comfort sense, entwined her fingers through Bucky’s flesh hand, gently swinging their clasped hands back and forth as they followed behind.

“No, Sam.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say, man.”

“I do, and the answer is no, he’s not coming,” Steve countered, the tense line of his shoulders visible to everyone, no enhanced vision needed.

“This mission is going to require all of us working together if we want a chance in hell at destroying this thing,” Wilson staunchly continued, and Bucky was kind of touched the other soldier was advocating on his behalf, since Bucky maybe-sorta-kind of-definitely had been a dick to him in most of their interactions. “And we would do well to have all hands on deck, the kids included.” 

“Absolutely not, Sam, there’s no way,” Steve rejected irritably, shaking his head. “He isn’t ready for the field yet, and with a mission as difficult as this, it’s not the time to test it out, especially since he hasn’t worked with anyone except me. And that was literally a lifetime ago, before things… changed.” 

Bucky frowned, noticing he was the only one Steve referred to with his objection, and Winter growled in frustration behind him. 

Steve stopped at the entrance to the jet and turned to face the other Avenger; Bucky and the others were still making their way towards the aircraft, Steve tending to walk faster when he was trying to avoid a difficult conversation (something past-Bucky knew all too well, even back when Steve’s legs had been a lot shorter and his lungs significantly weaker). 

The blonde lowered his voice only slightly, either not realizing how good his oldest friend’s enhanced hearing was or foolishly thinking Bucky would respect his privacy.

‘Steve should remember we have always been overly curious,’ past-Bucky said unapologetically. ‘That’s on him if he’s forgotten.’

“And frankly, Sam,” Steve continued, placing his hands on his hips and staring Wilson down, his words tumbling rapidly from his lips, “I’m not sure he’ll ever join us on missions. He’s been through way too much, and it’s not fair to force him to fight with us when he’s already been fighting for decades without a choice.” 

He appreciated the skeptical look Wilson leveled at Steve, because, what the fuck? Bucky wanted to fight alongside the other Super Soldier; it was HIS personal choice, not someone else's; it would be the first time in an eternity where he could decide for himself who he wanted to fight beside…why didn’t Steve understand that? 

Bucky couldn’t even enjoy the knowledge that he was correct in assuming Steve was the main obstacle preventing him from joining the Team because he was too goddamned furious at Steve’s audacity in the first place.

“And, to be honest, I just wouldn’t be able to focus on completing the mission knowing he was out there with us, you know? He’s a good sniper and decent at hand-to-hand combat, but he’s a walking minefield of potential triggers which makes him a dangerous liability out in the field, and as the leader of this team, I’m not willing to take that risk.” Wilson opened his mouth to argue, but Steve stubbornly barreled on. “Besides, I don’t trust that he would complete the mission if something happened to me, nor am I confident that he would have yours and the others’ backs if necessary. After all the shit Hydra put him through, he’s not even a complete, fully functioning person, which is totally understandable, and I don’t blame him for that at all.. but considering his triggers are still a giant fucking issue in safe settings like the Tower, can you imagine them out in the field? Please, Sam…let it fucking go, it’s never going to happen…he’s staying behind for everyone’s safety, including his own.”

Oh. 

Oh…

Winter immediately flew into a vicious rant behind Bucky, outraged that their abilities were being questioned; they were professional, in a league entirely their own with their advanced skill set, and how dare anyone, even Steve, refer to them by inferior terms like ‘good’ and ‘decent’.

Past-Bucky was suspiciously silent.

And Bucky himself? 

He… he couldn’t breathe.

Wanda tightened her grip on his hand; Bucky wasn’t sure if she could hear the two Avengers at this point or if she correctly interpreted the devastation that likely showed on his face. 

On his left, Peter made a pained gasping noise that sounded awfully close to a sob.

Oh, no, wait, Bucky apparently made that noise himself, seeing as how Peter’s jaw was clenched in silent rage, his teeth grinding together loud enough to the point where Bucky was afraid he’d chip a tooth at any moment. After a quick glance at the older brunette, Peter supportively threaded his arm through Bucky’s metal one, standing tall as they approached the quinjet.

Bucky’s lungs burned as they screamed for air, and he wished he could disappear; he’d give anything, do anything, to make the shame and embarrassment and devastation go away.

Because Steve was right.

Bucky was barely a functioning person at all anymore; he hardly left their apartment, he never left the Tower, he barely took care of himself, he had no hobbies, hardly any friends, no job, pretty much spent most of his day talking to the voices in his head. He had nothing, was nothing.

He was a burden to those around him.

How could he be so stupid to think that even with his Hydra programming destroyed, Steve would allow Bucky to fight by his side as if he was completely healed from the extensive trauma he endured over the last 70 years?

How could he be so stupid to think he could waltz into the Tower and immediately gain the same type of trust and respect that Steve had for past-Bucky? 

How could he be so stupid to think he was good enough to fight beside Steve? 

How could he be so stupid to think that Steve would want him around at all?

He should leave while Steve’s gone. 

He should leave before Steve comes back and kicks him out. 

He should leave before he’s replaced.

‘Winter, shut the fuck up with your narcissistic bitching, and DO something!’ past-Bucky screeched, causing Bucky to flinch at the sound; Wanda and Peter began muttering calming phrases that Bucky’s anguished brain couldn’t process.

‘What do you want me to - oh… okay.’ 

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Winter place his flesh hand on Bucky’s own metal shoulder. 

‘Let everything go, Soldier. You are not bound by the weakness of humanity - you are the encroaching darkness of night, the ghost in the shadows, your mind a blank, snowed out slate until orders are given. You are a machine, and machines do not have emotions. Remember your training, remember your mission. You are unbreakable, your skills unrivaled, and nothing will prevent you from completing your mission.’ 

Bucky finally took a steadying breath, his lungs all but crying from relief, and Winter dropped his hand back down to his side. Readily embracing the simpler emotional state that had been conditioned into him for decades, Bucky wrapped the hardened cocoon around himself as easily as he did his favorite blanket. It was different than before, as he still had control over his actions which led to marginally greater mental awareness, but the emotional dullness was a breath of fresh air for his overwhelmed mind.

He would not break down here and prove Steve’s assessment correct. 

He couldn’t. 

“Hey man.” Wilson lifted his hands up in defeat. “This is the last thing I’m gonna say, cuz it’s not really my place, but I think you should talk to Barnes about it since he’s been very adamant about wanting to join us. And considering he was the one that lived through that shit, but still came back here on his own, his opinion matters.”

Steve opened his mouth to cut in, but Wilson kept going. 

”And, hell, while we’re doing this, let me remind you as you’ve apparently forgotten, you spent a whole fucking year trying to find his ass and were ready to pull him out of whatever god forsaken hole he crawled into so you could both be besties again, whether he wanted to go with you or not. What was your plan? To keep him safely locked away in the Tower like some damsel prince while you went off on missions with the Team? And, then what?  You would come back  and play house with him until you needed to leave again, and he’d be left behind to pine anxiously for your return?” 

Wilson took a deep breath, glaring at Steve when he looked like he would interrupt. “Steve, you had faith that you could break decades of his conditioning with nothing more than your sheer stubbornness and belief in the strength of your bond - why can’t you have faith that he can get better, especially if you actually gave him a chance instead of hiding him away from all the bad and scary things in the world? After everything he endured, Barnes deserves the freedom to make choices for himself, don’t you think?”

Steve opened his mouth to finally respond but shut it with a resounding snap as the others approached the entrance to the quinjet. “Uhh, this looks awkward,” Stark unabashedly remarked upon seeing the fierce scowl Steve was leveling at Wilson, the other man steadily gazing back with his arms crossed over his chest. “Let’s save the fighting for the dunkfishtus 2.0 guys.”

Stark swiftly strode up the ramp and into the jet with Clint, Natasha, Bruce, and Vision following closely behind. 

Wilson clapped Steve amicably on the shoulder and turned to leave, apparently feeling better after his rant. 

“Just think about it, man.”

‘Say something nice to him,’ past-Bucky demanded.

“Good luck, Wilson.”

Sam stopped on his way up the ramp, surprised Barnes had spoken to him or even acknowledged his presence, considering the former-assassin literally said one nice thing to him in the months he’s been around and purposefully went out of his way to avoid speaking to him when they were in the same room (he did apologize for breaking Sam’s wings and begrudgingly remarked that he was a ‘decent’ opponent with his mastery of them… Steve swore Barnes apologized on his own with no prodding from him, but Sam was exceedingly skeptical of this claim, though he accepted the apology). 

The Falcon’s expression turned guilty when he saw Barnes was wearing his blank, dead-eyed ‘Winter Soldier’ mask, the one he usually had on around anyone who wasn’t Steve until Wanda broke his programming a few months ago. 

Since then, he only wore it when he was having issues handling his emotions (at least according to Steve), and Sam hadn’t seen it in, hell, weeks. The fact that Stark’s protégé was glaring daggers at Steve instead of staring at him in awe like he usually did and Wanda’s unoccupied hand was glowing a faint red told Sam his conversation with the Captain was definitely not private.

And Captain America? He hadn’t noticed the potentially volatile situation he’d caused, too engrossed in staring off to the side, mulling over Sam’s words (or so he hoped). 

Sam did the only sensible thing one could do in this situation; he quickly thanked Barnes before fleeing into the safety of the jet and leaving Steve to, frankly, his much deserved fate.

Steve appreciated his friend sharing his opinion with him, since most people were too afraid of the whole ‘Captain America’ thing to be honest and upfront with him, but it was still frustrating to have the same conversations over and over again.

Sam, plain and simple, didn’t understand where Steve was coming from. But, how could he? Sam had been close with his wingman, Riley, sure, but the two Airmen met only a few years before Riley died unexpectedly in battle, and they were both already adults and had been serving in the Air Force for a while upon meeting. 

But Steve and Bucky? They’d been friends since they were five years old and just starting school, and if those stupid history books got anything right about the two of them, it was that they were inseparable, essentially attached at the hip, until Bucky left for the war in their mid-twenties. 

Growing up, Steve was frail and sick more often than not, and he had a hard time making friends due to his medical conditions leaving him bed ridden and unable to play like a normal child, even when he wasn’t stuck inside. Coupled with the defensive walls and prickly attitude he developed after being bullied and ridiculed by both peers and adults before he could even walk, Bucky’s devout loyalty was unprecedented. 

Whereas Steve was quiet, shy, sassy, weak, and always so very angry with the world, his friend was the literal complete opposite. Bucky was sociable, charming, witty, strong, and shined so very, very bright - without even trying, his friend would command attention just by walking into the room, his subtle beauty and overflowing charisma unmatched by the finest dames. 

Bucky was, to the very core, everything Steve admired, because his friend was everything Steve was not. And yet, by some fucking miracle, a five (almost six) year old Bucky decided Steve was worthy of his friendship (even after Steve had punched the taller boy in the stomach, thinking he was going to run off with his backpack. In reality, Bucky had climbed up the jungle gym to retrieve it for Steve after some older kids chucked it up there because he knew the scrawny blonde would never be able to get it down on his own). 

Bucky had been affronted for all of ten seconds before laughing boisterously and waving off Steve’s horrified, stuttered apology when he realized his mistake. And instead of walking off and that being the end of it all, Bucky had simply thrown his arm over Steve’s narrow shoulders like it belonged there, tucked the blonde safely into his side, and declared them best friends. (“And that is just how it’s gonna be, so you better accept it, now, Stevie, cuz you’re stuck with me for forever pal, no take backs, ya hear me?”). It was one of the few times in Steve’s life where he couldn’t think of a smart-aleck comment to make in response. 

They had fights over the years, of course they did. And sometimes those fights ended in physical brawls that left Steve bruised and/or limping and Bucky covered in scratches or the occasional bite mark (because Steve utilized what few things he could to his advantage, even if he felt kind of bad about it, and Bucky always got distracted from his anger when Steve bit him). 

Steve rarely started their physical fights, surprisingly. With Bucky, he attempted to avoid their issues, sometimes literally turning in the other direction when he saw him in the hallway at school, or having his Ma tell Bucky that he was sick and needed to be alone. Steve, generally, was unwilling to use his fists on his friend like he did with other people, but he also wasn’t the best at talking about his feelings in any situation, even to Bucky. Every time they argued or fought, the little anxious voice that was always present in his head suddenly got louder, telling him that this was the final straw - Bucky would realize he had nothing to gain from being friends with a pathetic kid like Steve, and he’d end their friendship as quickly as it began. So Steve would avoid Bucky like the plague, unwilling to face such a conversation (though logically he knew he couldn’t dodge it forever).

Because if there was one thing that undoubtedly set Bucky off, every single time and without fail, it was being ignored by Steve. Their fights were few and far between, both the physical and emotional ones, but they always ended with Steve having an armful of a tearful and apologetic Bucky. The older boy was prone to outward emotional displays, usually tears of frustration (because he hated how Steve tried to solve everything with fury and fists) or tears of guilt (because he hated fighting with Steve, whether it was with physical violence or just them shouting nasty things at each other, and he loathed hurting the smaller boy in any way).

Steve didn’t think he’d ever see Bucky again when his friend left for overseas, especially with how badly the war was going for their side at the time. But then, heart in his throat, he was pulling a dazed Bucky off that table in Austria where the Nazi’s had used him for their twisted science experiments, and against all odds, Steve’s best friend was back in his arms, safe, a bit beaten up, but alive. By some further miracle, they made it back to camp together. 

And just like that, it was suddenly Steve and Bucky together against the world again, inseparable until missions pulled them only slightly apart, Bucky at his back like he had been since they were five years old. War was shitty, beyond anything Steve could have ever imagined, but with Bucky’s steady presence by his side, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been (the fact that his new body meant he could actually do something for once helped, too).

To lose Bucky only a year or so later, and seemingly for good, destroyed Steve more than he would ever admit to anyone, his friend included. Steve lasted, what, a week without the other man? He wasn’t an idiot, he knew there were other solutions besides dropping that plane into the icy ocean, but what would be the point of choosing a safer option? Maybe he could have gone back and had a nice life with Peggy, but the Bucky-sized hole that had been recently ripped out of his heart left him with very little heart left over to give, and that wouldn’t have been fair to her or himself. 

There were no words in any of Earth’s hundreds of languages to describe how he felt on the bridge that day when the Winter Soldier’s mask fell away, and suddenly it was his Bucky standing in front of him, emotionless and murderous, but blessedly alive and there, within Steve’s stunned reach - ‘miracle’ came close if he had to choose something, but it didn’t seem to encompass the full gravity of his emotions. 

The sheer amount of guilt he felt after seeing Bucky alive was almost debilitating. Steve realized that by never looking for Bucky after he fell off the train, he essentially allowed the birth of the Winter Soldier to occur, and the blood of the Asset’s victims were on Steve’s own hands. And while Steve was sleeping peacefully in the ice for seventy years, Bucky was being tortured, traumatized, and forced to commit atrocities against his will, all because Steve didn’t search for his best friend. 

After the battle on the helicarriers, he searched for Bucky for a year with no luck (who even after seventy some odd years of being tortured and brainwashed by Hydra still remembered Steve enough to save his life from drowning in the Potomac). And then, by some other miracle Steve didn’t deserve but was grateful for, Bucky had randomly shown up in his living room in the Tower one day like he belonged there (which he did, because he would always have a home wherever Steve was).

Steve felt disgusted by himself for never once thinking the strongest person he knew in the world could survive that fall from the train, felt undeserving of the blessing of Bucky’s friendship, but still couldn’t garner the self control to stay away from his friend. Instead, he swore an oath to himself that he would always protect Bucky, no matter what the cost was to himself… or others.

Steve simply could not and would not survive losing him another time - the Super Soldier serum protected him from all kinds of extensive physical harm to his body, but even the serum couldn’t heal the emotional damage that losing Bucky again would inflict on him.

Steve would do anything and say anything to keep Bucky safe, even if he had to tell a few lies that burned him to the core as they escaped his throat.

“Shouldn’t you be going Steve?”

A sharp voice jerked him back to the present, his thoughts racing after his conversation with Sam. His eyes immediately landed on Bucky first, as they typically did, and Steve’s heart stopped at the unfortunately familiar emotionless look on his handsome face.

Seeing Wanda and Peter protectively flanking Bucky, arms and hands linked with his, their expressions fierce and angry as they glared Steve down gave him an unexpected wave of nostalgia. Bucky had been the oldest of four children, and his three younger sisters usually liked Steve, but when the two boys were arguing? The three Barnes girls were terrifying , always popping out of nowhere to flank their brother when he finally cornered Steve into talking to him (“ I’ll pee in your shoes if you ever make Bucky cry again, don’t think I won’t, Steve Rogers!” his youngest sister, Gracie, had once threatened him when her other siblings had moved out of earshot.)

Steve had a feeling Wanda and Peter would have worse threats than just some urine in his shoes. 

“I admired you for a long time, Steve ,” Peter spat the name like the foulest curse word, his right arm securely looped with Bucky’s metal arm, “because I thought you fought for the little guys who were unfairly picked on and discriminated against. But you’re actually something worse than a bully, you know? You’re a really fucking bad friend, and you evidently don’t know the first thing about what Bucky’s like now, because if you did, you would know he’s worth ten of you. And, truthfully, I’ll never understand why he wants to go on missions with you in the first place, because you’re just… you’re fake, and you’re an asshole, and I hope you’re ashamed of yourself because I know I’m ashamed of you. Bucky deserves better than you.”

Steve gaped at the harsh words from the usually genial teen, and even Wanda raised an eyebrow in surprise. He shuffled his feet, frustrated, because why didn’t anyone understand he was just trying to protect Bucky; how did wanting to keep his friend safe from harm make him the villain here?

He opened his mouth to respond, to plead for understanding - Steve had sworn to himself weeks ago that Bucky would never wear that look again, all dead-eyed and unemotional like he was the brainwashed Asset once more. And for Steve himself to be the cause of that? Fuck.

(He had half a heart to ask the others to go without him, maybe take Wanda instead. But he knew Clint wouldn’t allow her to go until he deemed her properly trained regardless of her incredible powers, and besides, Steve was the leader who had a responsibility to his Team.) 

Wanda cut him off before he could formulate an explanation. 

“No, Steve, go on your mission and you can work this out when you return, if James is willing to talk to you at that point. Not that you deserve it, of course, but that’s James’s choice, and I won’t let my own feelings get in the way of him making choices for himself.”

She gave him a hard stare. 

“You’re right, okay, yeah.” Steve ran his hand tiredly over his face; why was everything always so hard? “We can talk it out when I get back.”

Wanda loudly cleared her throat. 

“If you want,” he added meekly, peering hopefully at Bucky, the former-assassin hardly reacting. 

“Affirmative.”

Fuck, that was the Soldier’s tone. 

He needed to do something before he left; he refused to leave his friend with things this bad between them. 

Steve hastily searched his mind for possible options; he braced himself for rejection when he thought of one he wasn’t sure would go over well. 

“Can I hug you, Buck? Please?”

Bucky jerked his head in some semblance of a nod.

Steve waited a moment for the two teens to step away from Bucky, sighing internally when they just tightened their grip.

Stepping forward slowly, he wrapped his arms carefully around his friend, cautious to avoid touching either of the younger ones by accident. Steve waited with bated breath for something to happen; Wanda shocking him with her magic, Peter webbing him and tossing him into the quinjet, or even the Soldier shoving a knife into his side. (He wouldn’t have blamed any of them since he deserved worse for hurting Bucky so deeply with his callous words, regardless of what his true intentions were.) 

When nothing happened except Peter impatiently tapping his foot and clearing his throat, Steve strengthened his grip; Bucky finally moved, making himself smaller and tucking his face into the side of Steve’s neck, and the blonde gently rested his chin on the top of his friend’s head. 

Steve wanted to cry. 

“Good luck, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, his tone still lacking it’s usual liveliness but the familiar nickname caused warmth to flow through Steve’s body. 

Taking a deep, centering breath, Steve dropped his arms and stepped back, preparing himself to finally leave. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll look after him while you’re gone,” Peter glowered, tugging on Bucky’s arm to lead him back to the Tower. Steve easily heard the boy’s muttered, “Not that you care, asshole.”

The two walked off; Peter with long, angry strides leading a more graceful Bucky, his sharp and calculated gait still reminiscent of the fully brainwashed Asset. 

“I need to go, Wanda,” he sighed, glancing away from her heavy gaze.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared, weighing her words. 

“You saw what Tony’s fears caused him to do - he almost destroyed the entire world trying to prevent what he was most afraid of from coming true. Are you willing to let your fears destroy your world, Steve? Because I know you mean well, I truly do.”

She turned to follow the others back into the Tower. 

“But Tony did, too, and he almost lost everything.”

Steve entered the plane feeling the worst he ever had in his entire lengthy existence, even before the serum; he was grateful no one commented on his delayed entrance. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Natasha questioned softly a few minutes after the quinjet took off. They were the only two in the back of the plane, the others understanding that Steve needed some space and thankfully giving it to him. 

Natasha never did tend to follow trends. 

“No,” he answered firmly, staring resolutely ahead. 

“Alright, I’m here for you if you change your mind, you know that, right? We had a rocky start, but we are friends, in case you still weren’t sure.”

He made the mistake of glancing over at her, and something in the openness in her expression, or the gentleness of her tone, or maybe because she said they were ‘friends’ and he hadn’t had many of those in his extended lifetime, caused him to break. 

“Nat, I - I fucked up,” Steve whispered, his voice cracking brokenly and his eyes wetting with pearly tears he would not allow himself to shed. Not here. “I fucked up big time, and I don’t know what to do, and I just got Bucky back, but he’s going to leave because I am the biggest fucking asshole the nine realms has ever seen.”

She made a noise low in heart throat that sounded awfully close to a coo. 

“Come here big guy.”

He allowed her to rearrange them so his body was draped across the seats along the wall, his head in her lap. He closed his eyes, too worn out from the morning’s emotions to care how pathetic he looked. 

She carded her fingers soothingly through his hair, and Steve had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from actually bursting into tears. He spent many nights before the serum sick in bed with his Ma doing the same thing; Bucky, too, whenever he tasked himself with watching over a bedridden Steve (which became more frequent as they aged, since his Ma worked a lot, plus then got sick herself…  even when she was home, his friend was adamant that she should rest and leave the job to Bucky). 

“I don’t know the details, and we can talk about it more after the mission, but Barnes seems like the forgiving type, at least when it comes to you. And I’m excellent at reading people, so trust me when I say you two will work it out.”

She poked him in the chest repeatedly when he didn’t respond, and ow, fuck, how could someone so tiny and delicate (not that he would ever say that to her face) be so brutal?

“What’s going on in that handsome head of yours?”

“What if I don’t deserve forgiveness?”

She sighed, returning her fingers to their ministrations, this time with her nails gently stroking his scalp. 

“Well, ain’t that the question of the century? In this case, it’s up to Barnes to decide if you deserve forgiveness; your opinion doesn’t count here. It’s his choice if he wants to forgive you or not.”

“I hope he does,” Steve sighed, slowly slipping into slumber. 

“The little ones may not be so forgiving, though,” she chuckled quietly. “Clint thought you were about to get mauled by Peter.”

“They’re scarier than Buck’s sisters used to be. But I’m glad he has them, even if I’m gonna need to sleep with one eye open for a while.”