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It's unfair to say things have been boring lately.
After all, Steve's got friends he loves. He lives in an apartment he loves, in a neighborhood he loves. He's got two job, but he loves both of those, too. So, his days and nights and weekends are filled with things and people that he loves. He can't call that boring.
But.
Nothing new has happened in a very long time.
There's a routine to it all. A familiarity. A pattern.
It's a good one. It is. But —
But sometimes, Steve is — not bored, but restless, maybe, in a way that he's not entirely sure what to do about. Not when he doesn't actually want change to anything about his life.
Well, okay. That's not 100 percent true.
He can't say he'd hate having a bit more relationship success, but at this point, dates that don't lead anywhere are part of the pattern, too.
(Steve doesn' t know what to do about that, either.
It's not like he doesn't try. He does. It just doesn't seem to do him much good.)
So he's been a little restless. Not unhappy or even bored. Just restless.
Sometimes, he thinks it's the predictability and routine of it all.
It's the way, even on this Tuesday night, the night of the first class of the fall session for one of the kid's art classes Steve teaches, everything is the same as it always is. It's a new session, and he's got some new faces in the room. But it's Steve's fifth fall at the rec center, and there are three or four new kids every new season. So the newness of it isn't really — new. Steve is excited about it. He's not complaining. He loves teaching these classes.
He's just very used to it. Settled in.
This first Tuesday class goes like every new session: introductions, a room tour, supply pass around, first-day projects, and end-of-the-day clean ups.
After class, one of the new kids, a big-eyed and brown-haired girl, named Alena, taps on his shoulder.
"Um, excuse me?" she says, looking at him with a serious sort of expression on her face.
"Hi Alena, what can I do for you?" Steve says, turning on his stool to face her fully.
"I have three questions. Can I ask you them?" Alena says, holding out three fingers.
"Sure," Steve says, smiling encouragingly. He gets a lot of questions from the kids in his classes. Most of them aren't art-related. He's long suspected it's because he's a teacher, but not an at-school teacher. He's also an adult, but not a parent, and kids seem to find that somewhat fascinating, especially at this age. "Ask away."
"Do you only like art? Or do you like other stuff too? Like science?" Alena says, staring at Steve intently.
"I like a lot of different things," Steve assures her quickly. "Science is very interesting. Do you like science?"
Steve, after so many conversations with kids her age, figures he's about to hear something about dinosaurs, or rocks, or volcanos, or space, or robots, or the very bottom of the ocean, or possibly bugs.
He's wrong.
"Good. Number two is: do you like cats?" she says, tilting her head at him slightly this time.
"I do," Steve says, rolling with the question. "I've met a lot of very nice cats. Do you have a cat?"
"Cats are very nice," Alena agrees, nodding but ignoring Steve's question to her. "Also, are you married? That's three."
"Oh. Uh, no," Steve says, truthfully. He is slightly flustered by that, but Alena is far from the first kid to ask. So it's not actually a new or unexpected question. It's just one that always sort of flusters him. "Nope."
"Good," Alena repeats, nodding again and looking thoughtful before adding, "thank you!"
"You're welcome," Steve offers, smiling at her. She gives him a wave, still looking like she's thinking hard about something, and then turns around and walks back over to her table spot.
"See you next week!" Steve calls. Alena waves again but keeps walking.
Steve shakes his head to himself and then returns to looking over the kids' first-day project picture. The interaction with Alena is an amusing one, and it makes Steve think Alena is going to be a memorable kid to have in class.
But the conversation itself isn't something he'd really think too hard about, or that he'd really even normally remember much by a few days later. Kids say entertaining things to Steve all the time. That's hardly new or surprising.
Alena and her questions should be just that. Another entertaining conversation with a kid.
(Except, what Steve doesn't know yet? Is that those three questions?
Those are Alena's first three questions.
They are not her only three questions.)
The next Tuesday, Steve finds himself confirming to Alena that he enjoys reading books. He also lists three of his favorite books, and she nods very seriously as if she's heard of them.
No. No, she nods as if, at seven, she's read them.
(Hell, maybe she has. What does Steve know?)
A week after that, he tells her his birthday, favorite color, and his four —yes, four specifically — favorite foods.
(That day, he also tells her whether or not he likes fireworks, but he's almost sure Alena only asks that one, because that's the day she finds out his birthday, is on the Fourth of July. He doesn't think that was a pre-planned question.
He doesn't think.)
The next Tuesday, he tells her that, yes; he was born right here in Brooklyn. She then wants to know his opinion on the Yankees, Mets, Knicks, Rangers, Jets, and Giants.
He half expects her to ask about his voting habits the following week.
(She asks about his favorite movies and TV shows).
By the time Steve has given his pizza opinions a couple weeks later, he's started to wonder just how strange he oughta find this. He thinks Alena's probably passed standard kid-curiosity-about-a-new-adult about a month and at least two dozen questions ago.
And Steve would think maybe asking questions was just Alena's thing. He'd think it was a way she processed the world or people.
Except that he also keeps getting the impression that she's looking for something. He gets the very distinct impression that it would be, somehow, possible for him to give a wrong answer. It's in all the nodding and the way she keeps saying good, and seeming thoughtful about it.
It's enough that it actually —
It's enough that Steve sometimes wonders if maybe —
The first time the idea had popped into his head, Steve had dismissed it right away. He'd thought he was being ridiculous.
Then, two weeks of Alena questions later, he'd floated the idea to his best friend, Sam.
Who thought, and who still thinks, it's the only explanation that makes any sense at all.
Steve's not completely sure about that, but sometimes, like when he watches Alena walk away after telling her about four places he thinks it would be fun to visit someday, he wonders if, possibly, Alena isn't playing matchmaker for an adult in her life — single parent, maybe.
The idea sounds both totally absurd and very possible to him all at once.
(He wonders if he'd have better luck on a date that was up by a seven-year-old.)
It feels like a very strange thought.
(But not a predictable one.)
In late October, there is a Tuesday Alena walks away from Steve armed with new knowledge — snow and if Steve likes it or not, and also if he likes running outside or at the gym better — and back to her table spot, where an adult Steve has never seen is waiting for her. The adult is a red-haired woman standing with arms crossed and an amused expression on her face.
Steve's been trying — waiting, hoping — to get a glimpse of an adult attached to Alena, but he's had no luck. She comes in with another family and typically heads to the free play area for a while after leaving his class.
The woman at Alena's spot leans down for a quick hair kiss when Alena reaches her and then says something Steve can't hear. Alena shakes her head and whispers something back, looking animated about it.
Steve wouldn't normally watch people talking, of course, but —
The thing is, he's pretty sure — No. He's definitely sure they're talking about him. So he thinks that makes it okay to pay attention.
The woman laughs, patting Alena's shoulder and whispering something else to her before walking over to Steve. Alena seems pleased about whatever is. Steve stands up to the woman as she comes closer.
"Hi there," she says. She's almost frighteningly attractive. She's also wearing a wedding ring. "I hear my daughter's been running an investigation on you."
That likely rules out Alena playing matchmaker for a single parent, then.
(Although. Maybe not?
People do get remarried. Alena could, theoretically, have a dad who isn't married to this woman — a father who dates men. It's not impossible. It doesn't rule out the parent-matchmaker theory. Steve doesn't think it does, anyway.)
"She has asked a few questions," Steve says, shrugging. The woman laughs.
"Well, thank you for being a good sport about it," she says, looking at Alena over her shoulder. "She's decided she was right about you, you know."
"Should I know what that means?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.
"I imagine you'll find out soon enough," the woman says, laughing again. "I'm Natasha, by the way."
"Steve," Steve says, holding out a hand to shake hers.
"I know," she says, still looking amused.
"Right," Steve says, slightly thrown, enough though he's got no reason to be. Alena's been in class for months. It would be surprising, and a little concerning, if Alena's mom didn't know his name. To be fair, he thinks it was likely more the way she said it than the words themselves. "It's good to meet you, and I really haven't minded answering Alena's questions. She's a great kid."
"Thank you," Natasha says again, releasing his hand. "She's become a fan of yours."
"She's got real art talent, too," Steve says, watching the way Natasha's mouth lifts into a smirk-like expression at that. "Great use of color, especially for her age."
"Mmm, not the topic, but I appreciate that, too," Natasha says, nodding. "She does enjoy art. That is true."
"I can tell," Steve says. He's ignoring the rest, the topic, as Natasha put it, mostly because he simply doesn't know what to say.
"Well, Steve, if my daughter has it her way, we'll be seeing each other again soon, and often," Natasha says, and it's somehow both friendly and intimidating all at once. "So I'll let you get back to work now. I just wanted to say hello."
"Oh," Steve says, nodding, but decidedly off-balance now. "You'll be picking her up more often? That's great! I'll see you soon, then."
He doesn't think that he actually thinks that's what Natasha meant.
"Sure," she says, shrugging a shoulder. "You have a good night."
Then she turns and walks back to Alena without another word.
Steve stares after for a second.
He's reeling more than a little after that conversation —
I imagine you'll find out soon enough.
if my daughter has it her way, we'll be seeing each other again soon, and often.
Steve can't pretend for a single second he could have predicted that conversation. He also doesn't know how to predict what might follow it.
He's in new territory.
On Wednesday morning, Steve wakes up to a text from an unknown number that reads:
Did some investigation of my own. Alena might just be onto something.
Steve stares up at the office ceiling and then looks back at Sam, rolling his head on his shoulders as he moves.
"How alarmed should I be?" Steve says, sighing in a way he knows is dramatic and reaching for his coffee cup. "Seriously."
"Your cell phone number is on your website, man. Anyone can find it," Sam says, leaning back in the chair he's rolled over to sit at Steve's desk. "That was the point. You put it there on purpose."
"No, I know," Steve says, rolling a pen in his hands. "Commission texts are just usually a lot less cryptic."
"Sure," Sam says, nodding. "This is kinda fun though, right? And you did say she was hot."
"And married," Steve points out. "She was definitely wearing a ring."
"Okay, yeah, that is slightly more mysterious," Sam admits, nodding. "But people have all sorts of situations. The girl could easily have a parent who isn't the person married to the pretty lady who sent you a cryptic early morning text."
"Yeah, I thought about that, too," Steve agrees, nodding. "And Alena playing matching maker is still really the only non-weird option here, right?"
"No, that option is still a little weird. She's seven," Sam says, but he's grinning. "It's charming weird though. It's actually probably very sweet, depending on who this person turns out to be."
"That's fair," Steve says, grinning too. Sam laughs, and then he furrows his brow.
"Wait. I thought you were gonna look this woman up," Sam says. "Get a little intel of your own."
"I did," Steve says, shaking his head and shrugging a shoulder.
"And?" Sam prompts, reaching for the coffee he's got sitting on Steve's desk.
"And she works for someplace I've never heard of, but that sounds very impressive. She's got really locked down social media. All I found was that she's got one daughter, so just Alena, and she's married to a guy named Clint. Currently, I assume. I couldn't find anything on him either, and I couldn't click around on social media to find any people either of them are linked to," Steve says, frowning. "It's a dead end."
"Huh," Sam says, nodding slowly. "Mysterious."
"Yeah," Steve agrees. "But it's still gotta be — other parent? Probably a dad? Or an aunt? Uncle? Cousin? Neighbor? Babysitter of a hopefully appropriate age? Right? The matchmaker thing?"
"Gotta be," Sam says, leaning back again. "I'm telling you, there are no other options here. Not at this point."
"Well," Steve says, taking another gulp of coffee. "Then I guess I'll find out when Alena wants me to. On her schedule."
Steve's gotta say this is a new experience: being on a seven-year-old's schedule.
(It feels awfully unpredictable.)
Alena taps on Steve's shoulder two weeks later when he's erasing the whiteboard.
For once, she's not alone.
As Steve turns, he sees that her other hand is clutched around the hand of a man she's clearly dragged across the classroom. A man who looks equal parts amused, fond, embarrassed, and confused.
A man who is —
One of the most beautiful people Steve has ever seen. He's tall, dressed in a green shirt and grey jeans. He's got dark brown hair that curls softly and falls over his face a little and light blue eyes.
He's not wearing a wedding ring.
Steve swallows.
"Art teacher Steve!" Alena says, tugging on the hand of the man behind her. "This is my Uncle Bucky. I wanted you to meet him."
Her Uncle Bucky.
Who isn't wearing a wedding ring.
Alena is grinning like she's brought in the world's best show-and-tell. She looks so pleased with herself that she's nearly jumping in place.
Steve doesn't know quite what to do with the moment. It feels both heavy and light. He's sort of dizzy.
Nothing's happened.
(But it almost feels as if it has.)
"Hi," Steve says, holding out a hand to shake the man — Bucky's hand. "Good to meet you."
"Yeah, you too," Bucky says, stepping close enough to shake Steve's hand fully. He still looks confused, but his smile is sincere. It's a stunning smile, one that makes his eyes brighter, one that makes it impossible for Steve to look away from him.
"Uncle Bucky has been gone for a long time for work, but now he's back!" Alena enthuses, spreading her arms wide and looking between the two of them.
Bucky shoots Alena another mildly confused, but mostly fond, look.
"Oh yeah? What do you do?" Steve says, dropping Bucky's hand. "Where were you?"
Steve would pretend he was asking simply to play along with Alena's enthusiasm, and not because he'd just really sort of like this really gorgeous man to stay right here talk to him.
But that would be a lie.
And Steve's never been a liar.
"I'm a climate scientist," Bucky says, smiling back. "I had a teaching and research residency, primarily focused on the ecological recovery of the Black Sea. I spent most of the time in Constanța — that's in Romania."
"That's amazing," Steve says. He means it genuinely. He's also hearing the echo of Alena's first question: do you like science? "Did you enjoy it? How long were you there?"
"A year," Bucky says, nodding. "And yeah, I did. It was an incredible experience."
"I'll bet. Wow," Steve says, feeling impressed. "Do you always teach as part of your job? Or was that just for the residency?"
"No, not really. I did a little when I was in grad school, but that was mostly TA stuff," Bucky says, nodding. "Pretty different from what I was doing in Romania."
"Did you like it?" Steve asks, curious."Teaching?"
"I did," Bucky says, then he grins and gestures around the room. "Trying to recruit me to your line of work?"
"I don't think this is quite the same thing," Steve says, laughing and meeting Bucky's eyes.
"This looks fun, though," Bucky says, smiling back. "And definitely its own kind of amazing."
"It is fun," Steve says. He doesn't think he imagines the way Bucky looks at him when he says its own kind of amazing. "Honestly, sometimes I wish I did it full time."
"Understandable," Bucky says, nodding. He's still holding Steve's eyes. 'What do you do full-time?"
"Graphic design," Steve says, shrugging a shoulder.
"Oh yeah? That's —" Bucky starts.
"Uncle Bucky is going to be back to stay now, no more trips away," Alena interrupts, clearly having decided that their introductions have gone on long enough. "Right?"
"Well, that's the plan," Bucky says, looking thrown, but smiling down at her. It reminds Steve that even though he's mostly figured out what Alena's up to, Bucky must still have no idea what's going on here.
"Yeah! And Uncle Bucky? I've had a plan, 'cause one night, back when I just turned seven? I heard you and mom on video chat. You were talking about when you were back, you wanted to be serious and have a boyfriend who could even meet me and stuff. But I already know art teacher Steve!" Alena says proudly.
Steve only met Bucky a few minutes ago, so he's obviously not an expert at reading Bucky or anything, but he thinks it's fair to call the expression on his face mortified.
"Alena, that's not —" Bucky starts. His words are impressively calm and soft.
"I made you a list all about him. It's in my room. You can read it!" Alena continues, cutting him off. "And then you'll know him too!"
Bucky stares at the wall behind Steve's head for a second.
Steve feels supremely awkward.
Alena looks desperately happy.
"Alena," Bucky says again, words still kind and soft. "Can you go pack up your stuff? I want to talk to your teacher for a minute."
"His name is Steve," Alena reminds him — incredibly helpfully — before running off to her table spot, still looking very, very proud of herself.
Steve laughs in a way he's sure sounds forced and awkward.
"I am so sorry, wow," Bucky says, not really looking at Steve's face. "That's — uh. Sorry about that."
"No, no, it's alright," Steve says, and then, because it's true and because Bucky still looks mortified, and because Bucky is really attractive, and because Steve already sort of — well. Because Steve would like this to somehow to turn out okay. He'd really like it there was a good outcome here, even. So he adds, "To tell you the truth, I'm just glad the mystery is finally solved. She's been asking me questions for weeks."
"Weeks, huh?" Bucky repeats, somewhat faintly. He sounds amused, but he's clearly still embarrassed.
"Since the start of these fall classes," Steve confirms. "Guess there was a lot she needed to know."
"Guess so," Bucky says, shaking his head, but he's looking at Steve again. "And I've been back for a month, too, but she must not have been ready yet. She is a planner, a real strategist, that kid."
"I believe it," Steve says, grinning. "Good skills to have."
"They are," Bucky agrees, smiling too. "And you know, I can't even be mad? If it was Nat — her mom —, I could at least be annoyed. But Alena's seven. And she was doing something nice. Well, she thought she was."
"It seems like she just really missed you," Steve offers, sincerely. "You must be her favorite uncle."
"I mean, I hope so, " Bucky says, laughing. His smile looks like it's just for Steve when he does. "Since I'm the only one she's got."
"Not much competition then," Steve says, laughing, too. "I uh, I just met Alena's mom a couple weeks ago. That's your sister?"
"No, actually. But we've known each other since we were kids. " Bucky says. He's still smiling, but something crosses his face that instantly makes Steve feel like there's a long story there. "So we're like family now."
"Gotcha," Steve says. "Well, she said Alena was running an investigation on me, and I didn't know what that meant. So, like I said. Good to have the mystery solved."
(Steve wonders, suddenly, if Natasha's text:
Did some investigation of my own. Alena might just be onto something.
Had come after her going through enough of Steve's social media to realize he might be at least theoretically interested in dating Bucky — if that might have come after Natasha found out Steve dated men at all.)
"Horribly embarrassing for me," Bucky says. His grin is back to its brighter one from before, and the look he's giving Steve makes Steve's heart beat faster. "But, yeah, I'd imagine it is sort of a relief on your side."
"Hey, no reason for you to be embarrassed," Steve says. Bucky makes a skeptical face at him. "Seriously. You said it, Alena's seven, and she was trying to do something nice. Besides, you've got that whole list of facts Alena wrote down about me. That's gotta be plenty embarrassing for me. So we'll be even once you read them."
"Nah, don't worry about that. I wasn't actually gonna read those," Bucky says, laughing. "Alena made that list, so I'll take it, but there's no reason for me to make this weirder."
And Steve could let it drop there. He could.
But.
Bucky is incredibly hot and incredibly easy to talk to and Steve doesn't think he's reading the slight buzzing and the held looks between them wrong.
So Steve could let it drop. He could.
But he doesn't want to.
So he doesn't.
"Sure, right," Steve says, feeling the slightest hint of an inconvenient flush creep up his neck. "But, if you want, there's no reason for all Alena's hard work to go to waste. So, you know, you could read it."
He's rewarded by a smile that takes up Bucky's whole face. It makes Steve want to kiss him.
"Huh. That is a good point, actually. She did work on that for weeks. I guess I could look it over," Bucky agrees, still grinning, something in his eyes bright and lit up and so damn pretty. "But, you know, I'm almost sure she didn't work so hard just to have me read a list. I'm almost sure she wants us to go on a date."
"I think you're right about that," Steve says, smiling too, and feeling awfully lit up and bright himself. "And she did go to all that trouble."
"Weeks of work," Bucky says, nodding and holding Steve's eyes again. Bucky bites his lip, and the move makes Steve want to tug him and kiss him until he's breathless. "At her age, that's forever. Be a real shame if it was for nothing."
"It really would," Steve agrees. "So, I guess we should probably at least go out for a drink. As long as you like what you read on Alena's list, of course."
Bucky laughs. It looks happier this time. Steve wants it to happen over and over. He wants Bucky to look all bright and lit up and happy. He wants to see if kissing Bucky makes him look that way — If touching Bucky makes him look that way. He wants to find everything that makes this man he's just met look that way.
"Tell you what," Bucky says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Give me your number. I'll text you after I read the list, and we'll figure out a good time to meet for drinks."
"It's a date," Steve says, pulling out his own phone. "You know, Alena's mom — Natasha — already has my number? She found it when she was doing her own investigation of me."
Bucky blinks at him and passes Steve his phone so Steve can put his number in.
"And yet, you want to go out with me," Bucky says, shaking his head again. "Should I take that as a compliment?"
"If you want to," Steve says, grinning, and passing Bucky's phone back. "But I can come up with much better compliments than that."
"Save 'em for later," Bucky says, but his smile is bright, and Steve is almost certain he looks a touch flustered. Bucky puts a hand on Steve's arm. "We've got an audience."
Steve glances over to see Alena staring at them. She looks outright overjoyed.
"I see," Steve says, laughing a little. "You should probably talk our audience home."
"I probably should," Bucky agrees, leaving his hand on Steve's arm. "But I'll text you later."
"Good," Steve says, eyes locked on Bucky's. "I'll look for it. After you read the list."
"Right. So Alena's hard work doesn't go to waste," Bucky says, but he swallows sort of hard as he does, eyes fixed on Steve's right back.
"Yep," Steve says, nodding. He lets his eyes fall to Bucky's lips, just for a second, and then he grins again and steps back. Bucky shakes his head, looking a touch flustered again, and smiling.
"Tonight," he says, taking his hand off Steve. He turns and calls out to Alena. "Ready? Dinner is probably waiting at your house, and I've got a list to read."
"Ready!" she echoes, running with her bag in hand, motion so fast her shoes skid on the floor a little. She wraps an arm around one of Bucky's clinging to him as they leave the classroom.
Steve calls out a goodbye to them that sounds strange to his own ears. Alena waves with the hand that's not tucked under Bucky's elbow somewhere. Bucky looks overs his shoulder and grins at Steve again, raising his eyebrows, before heading out the door.
It's enough to make Steve's heart pound.
Steve tugs his own phone out when they go and texts Sam:
She had an uncle
Then he collapses in his chair.
They don't actually have any plans for the night. Steve doesn't even have Bucky's number in return. For all Steve knows, tonight won't work out.
And yet.
Steve is already feeling incredibly grateful that he told Alena he liked science all those weeks ago.
(Who would have predicted that?)
Steve is practically falling asleep at the conference room table on Wednesday morning when Sam slides in next to him with a shove to his shoulder.
"After all this drama, the only news I get, 'she had an uncle.' Really?" Sam says, raising an eyebrow as he settles in.
"That's an important update!" Steve whispers back in his own defense, yawning into his coffee mug.
"Maybe. It's also a crumb, of an update, Steve. I can tell looking at you that there's more to the story," Sam says, shaking his head. "So what happened? What's up? Jerk uncle? Hot uncle?"
"Second one," Steve says, just as he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.
"Okay, and?" Sam asks, gesturing for Steve to continue. Steve shrugs.
"That's really about it," Steve says, overly casually. He's sure he doesn't really sell it, but he tries it, just for a second. Just for fun, mostly. He takes another sip of coffee before he continues, "oh, but I did make breakfast for two this morning. In his kitchen."
Steve's phone buzzes in his pocket again. He retrieves it and smiles to himself as he reads the two texts from Bucky:
You left a shirt here. That a ploy to see me again?
Too late i'm already wearing it. My shirt now.
"Oh, is that all?" Sam says sarcastically, then he laughs and adds, "You know what? Good for you. I'm glad your mystery had a happy ending."
Steve is still smiling as he texts back:
Maybe my ploy was to see you in my shirt when I come over again.
And Steve thinks about mysteries, and happy endings, and restless feelings, and things are new, and about predictabilities, and patterns.
And Steve thinks — it's ridiculous.
It's completely ridiculous.
The mystery of this has been months in the making, but he met Bucky less than twenty-four hours ago.
And yet, he feels as if maybe —
(He wonders if he'd have better luck on a date that was set up by a seven-year-old.)
He feels as if maybe his life hasn't been missing changes, or new things, or surprises. He feels like he's been missing —
A person.
(People are awfully unpredictable.)
And that's a ridiculous thought he banishes as soon as it comes. It's been a single day. Not even.
But. Somewhere in his core, Steve is more alive and yet less restless than can remember being ever in his life.
And that sure feels like something.
Like a lot.
It feels like enough that he doesn't stop himself from responding to Bucky's next text by asking what Bucky is doing later that night.
It feels like enough that he smiles at his phone so wide it almost makes his face hurt when Bucky responds that he's not doing anything, but was thinking maybe they could get dinner at this place Alena's list said Steve liked?
It feels like enough that Steve hardly stops smiling all day, even though he's exhausted.
It feels like enough that Steve thinks maybe, just maybe, the end of this mystery might be the start of something else.
Something he didn't know he was waiting for.
Something he didn't know to predict.
Something he didn't know he was restless without.