Chapter Text
“Hello, do you need help finding anything?”
Bucky jerked, and he watched his metal fingers tangle the long folds of yarn he was holding. A feeling like a cold stone settled in the back of his throat.
“Pardon me – are you okay?”
Belatedly, Bucky abruptly turned his head to meet the gaze of a short, curly-haired person wearing a nametag and standing just out of arm’s reach.
He dropped his gaze to the yarn now hopelessly tangled in his grasp. Grimacing, he shifted the yarn bundle to his flesh hand and thrust it toward the employee, mumbling, “I messed it up.”
The employee, whose nametag read “Ivy they/she,” looked thoughtfully at the yarn and then smiled brightly.
“Yarn skeins like that one get tangled all the time! It doesn’t look like there are any knots, so it’ll be easy enough to neaten it up.” They reached out and carefully took the mess from Bucky. Humming, she asked, “Is this something you want to buy, or are you still deciding? I can straighten,” here, she chuckled quietly, “it out and leave it as a skein, but it’ll be just as easy to wind it in a ball for you.”
The moment stretched and frayed, but Bucky couldn’t figure out what the right answer was. Did he have to buy the yarn? He’d messed it up already. But what if someone else wanted it more? Was it really the yarn he wanted? Why was it so hard to decide what Steve would like best, anyway? He knew the material choices had been limited the last time he knit something for Steve, but he knew his Stevie-boy better than he knew himself. Didn’t he?
“It’s really no trouble to fix this!” chirped the employee. “Tell you what, I’ll get the skein put back to rights, but I’ll hold this one up front in case you decide you want it. We can always wind it into a ball later, if you end up buying it.” They directed a calm smile just beyond Bucky’s shoulder. “Take your time, okay? I’m happy to answer any questions you might have.”
Bucky still felt awful about tangling the yarn. He should have better control! He should have been more aware of someone approaching him, too – he’d lost his touch. (A little voice in the back of his head, one that sounded ridiculously like Sam’s therapist-calm voice, reminded him that disassociation could occur regardless of his surroundings.) The guilt of damaging a product he hadn’t bought let him spit out the words building up.
“Can I watch?”
Ivy-the-employee looked back over their shoulder from the counter, “Hmm? Watch what?”
But Bucky had used up all his words. Iron burst in his mouth, and he released his lip.
The employee was still watching Bucky from the corner of their eye. (The Sam-voice suggested they were trying not to watch Bucky too closely. Bucky felt she was afraid of him, but remembered Sam carefully coaching him through other possible explanations.)
With a small, open-handed wave, Bucky gestured at the yarn in Ivy’s hands, then at the yarn on the shelf nearest him.
“Fix,” he gritted out, through numb lips.
“Oh! Yes, you’re welcome to watch how I fix the skein.”
Relief flooded through Bucky. Next time he messed up the beautiful, orderly yarn, he wouldn’t have to admit his failing. He hunched his shoulders and skulked to the store counter. (Oh fun, the Sam-voice wasn’t the only voice in his head. The Natasha-voice silently rolled her eyes at him, not that a voice rolling its eyes made any sense. The Phil-voice chuckled, and reminded him to shift his shoulders so he wasn’t “stalking directly at them.”)
A quick shake of his body helped Bucky re-align his posture so he was facing a point somewhere beside the employee. He couldn’t help the frustration and guilt in his bearing (and the Sam-voice reminded him it wasn’t healthy to repress his emotions constantly), but he could make sure it was clearly not directed at the person he was trying to interact with.
Somehow, Bruce had directed Bucky to what had to be the only craft store in all of New York City with employees who could handle an uncomfortable, mostly non-verbal ex-assassin. (The Bruce-voice didn’t point out that Bruce himself probably liked the store for the same reasons Bucky did. Bucky already knew that.) The green and blue knit sweater Ivy wore whispered against the counter when she laid the – skein? – bundle of yarn on the surface. (The Clint-voice grumped about loose sleeves catching on his equipment, even as he sounded slightly wistful. Bucky thought that might be worth mentioning to real-Phil.)
A flash of light on metal caught Bucky’s eye, and he watched Ivy cut through the small piece of tape holding the label around the yarn.
“Yarn skeins are just really big loops of yarn twisted together. When they get out of order, it’s best to open them up and get the loops situated neatly again. Having a large and clean workspace is helpful, so when skeins get messed up in the store, us employees usually fix them.”
Here, Ivy turned her head slightly to grin wryly in Bucky’s direction, though they didn’t raise their gaze to meet his eyes.
“It really isn’t a problem to fix them – they get messy sometimes. And if a customer is trying to fix a messy skein, it’s often better to ball or cake the yarn instead of redoing the skein. Some people disagree, though. Yarn does develop a kink if it stays in the same position long enough. There’s ways to resolve that, but they involve – well, making a skein again, essentially.” They laughed lightly. “And a bunch of other steps.”
Bucky nodded slightly.
“Yes, blocking!” Ivy’s eyes met his, and he say they were smiling brightly. “Have you spun yarn before?”
He must have said something. That was disconcerting, but it wasn’t exactly new for Bucky to respond to someone without realizing he’d said anything. (Call-and-response memories and definitions were memories that could come back subconsciously, the Sam-voice mentioned, while nodding in thoughtful agreement.)
Eyes locked on movement of Ivy’s hands unwinding the skein, Bucky tasted iron again, and didn’t answer.
Ivy hummed, but didn’t repeat the question.
“Blocking can refer to several different processes for fiber arts. Here, we’re using it to describe setting the long stretches of yarn that’s not yet been worked into a project so it lays in neat lines and isn’t trying to twist in different directions within the skein.” By this point, she had untwisted the column of the skein so it was laid out in loops, and now Bucky could see how he’d made the loops uneven when he yanked it.
“Anyway, now that the skein is untwisted, we’re just going to tug a bit here and there so all the loops line up neatly again! I don’t really have to worry about the whole skein coming apart because it’s tied together in a few places.” Bucky found himself leaning closer so he could see the little bits of yarn tied around the loops of the skein where the employee pointed them out.
Bucky’s flesh hand slipped into his pocket, and he was surprised to find his fingers closing over bits of twine and, less familiarly, rubber bands, waiting for him to pull them out. (A voice he didn’t want to acknowledge laughed warmly. That voice brought back memories of someone calling absentmindedly for a scrap to tie rolled paintings and loose brushes.)
“There,” Ivy said in a satisfied tone. “All better.”
They planned their hands on their hips for a moment and smirked at the even loops of yarn now laying on the counter. Then they picked up the yarn with their hands spread to hold the loops in a flatten oval. As Ivy twisted the ends of the loops, Bucky could see how she was recreating the skein as he had originally seen it.
Ivy set the finished skein down on top of the label and rewrapped the it around the yarn. She paused for a moment and looked around. Following their gaze, Bucky saw an invisible tape dispenser just out of reach along the counter. He reached for it, and grunted questioningly with his hand hovering just over the dispenser.
“Yes, please.”
Bucky held the tape dispenser within Ivy’s reach and steadied it while she removed a piece long enough for their needs.
“All better!”
The tape settled back in its original position, Bucky stuffed both hands back in his hoodie pocket. He let his eyes wander along the long front counter, and his attention caught suddenly on a set of floppy plastic cards joined with a metal ring through one corner. (The Tony-voice rambled dramatically about Stark-tech alternatives to heat lamination.) The cards were pale green with simple typeface and, from his limited perspective, probably images, too. (The Clint-voice quietly commented that the design was reasonably accessible.)
“Hmm, the owner put that flip-chart together.” Ivy picked up the cards, then set them down on the counter closer to Bucky. “If you would like to know more about the information on yarn labels and how what the information can tell you about the yarn, this might be a good resource.”
The employee turned toward a box of supplies behind the counter, and said over their shoulder, “Feel free to take those cards around the shop with you. Yarn terminology is a little specified, and it’s nice to have a reference at hand while you’re looking.”
Bucky stared at the little cards for a moment, then tentatively picked them up with his right hand. Almost immediately, he grimaced and dropped the packet back onto the counter. Shifting from one foot to the other, Bucky weighed how much he wanted to read the cards against having to touch the slightly sticky, slightly greasy surface. (The Natasha-voice calmly reasoned his metal hand wouldn’t feel the surface texture as intensely.) (The Bruce-voice reminded him tactile avoidance was a real experience that deserved to be treated with respect. He didn’t have to touch the cards if he found it unpleasant or just didn’t want to.) (The Thor-voice asked if he could provide any assistance.)
(It was Thor who had suggested getting a different trashcan when Tony and Steve started fighting about Tony constantly getting coffee grounds on the outside of the lid when he cleaned his coffee maker.) (Darcy had once commented offhand that Thor was good at finding the simplest solution, even if it wasn’t the easiest solution.)
“Um.”
Ivy glanced at him.
“Have a question?” She set aside the package of – little malleable cones? – she was holding and swiveled to face him.
“Can you. The…” He gestured helplessly at the cards.
“Flip them?” The expression on their face was intent and thoughtful, but carefully directed somewhere left of Bucky.
“Sorta.” (The Steve-voice griped about Bucky’s chapped lips and shoved more chapstick in his jacket pockets.) (JARVIS had one quietly asked if he’d be interested in stim-toys, then provided an explanation for the unfamiliar term.)
Bucky huffed, and tried to channel Phil’s calm when he gave the list of approved laundry detergents for Avengers spare clothing to new SHIELD agents. (Phil’s demeanor when he re-iterated the acceptable detergents to senior agents who should have already known was not appropriate in this situation.)
“The texture. Uh. Alternative?” His breath was coming short and uneven, but some part of him filed the attempt to communicate his needs away to review later with his therapist.
“Oh! The lamination?” He managed a short nod. “Hmmmmmmmm…” She tapped a small hook of some kind against her chin while she thought. “Would it help if I cleaned them off, or would you rather have them printed? On cardstock, maybe?”
Fierce warmth flooded through him.
“Print?”
“Yeah, I can do that.” Ivy smiled brightly in Bucky’s direction. “I don’t have a paper cutter handy, so there will be four cards on each page. Will that work?”
“Yes.”
“Gimme just a sec, then,” they said, moving confidently toward the computer on the counter.
Bucky’s hip landed against the tall counter, and he let the fixture take some of his weight for a long, long moment. (The Bruce-voice shushed all the other voices.)
Paper swished nearby. Bucky opened his eyes (When had he closed them?) to see a light purple folder (pastel, the Stevie-voice supplied) laying near his metal elbow.
“Here.” Ivy-hands entered his field of vision and flipped open the purple folder. Inside, little metal strips pierced pages of paper to hold them in place. “I put the pages in here to protect them. Lamination helps, but it feels plastic, and it gets pretty gross over time.”
Gruffly, Bucky muttered, “Thanks.”
Flipping through the folder, Bucky appreciated why there was a copy of the cards saved on the shop’s computer – the research was thorough, and information was presented well. (The Phil-voice tilted his head in consideration of a useful skillset.) He paused on a card titled ‘Cleaning’.
“Ah, felting is either the end goal, or something you really, really want to avoid,” said Ivy.
Bucky twitched, and he glanced up at the employee through his bangs.
“Sorry, I thought you were asking me a question when you said ‘Felting’.
“Oh.” He didn’t remember saying anything, but…
“Buck, can you walk me to the grocery store on your way to the movie with Felicia?”
Bucky frowned and looked up from where he’d been making notes on an old receipt that wasn’t big enough for Stevie’s sketches.
“How’d you know I’m going to the pictures?”
Laughing, Stevie said, “You talk to yourself when you’re focused, Buck. It sounded like you were working out timing.”
“Say what now?”
“ ‘Leave work, 10 minutes home, 10 minutes to change and wash, 30 minutes to walk to Felicia’s office, 20 minutes to the movie, starts at five.’ Didn’t your ma ever tell you you talk to yourself?”
No, no she hadn’t. But come to think of it, she’d always asked him to take his school work into the bedroom he shared with his sisters.
The soft tap of a computer keyboard made him blink. Ivy was working on the computer set up on the counter for employees.
“Felt is warm.”
Ivy’s gaze lifted to a point near him, and their smile was small and – warm. Like felt.
“It is, isn’t it? Felting causes yarn fibers to get tangled up with each other, so it closes the gaps in the yarn. The same process causes shrinking, which makes the end product more dense.”
“How. How do you…?” Bucky trailed off, frustrated. The SHIELD therapist he was working with had told him that ‘running out of words’ or ‘running out of energy’ was something people who were disabled, neurodiverse, or both sometimes experienced. Clint had given him the ‘spoons’ terminology. Coming to the yarn store had been hard enough. Interacting with Ivy the employee had been hard enough. Trying to describe something that he wanted, suddenly and fiercely, was beyond him. If he’d been alone, he might have cried.
“Hmm. I’m going to offer you some options. You don’t have to pick one, and you can walk away if you don’t want to hear them, but I’m going to offer,” said Ivy. They ducked under the counter for a moment, then placed a notebook and pen on the counter. “One, you can try writing down your thoughts. I can read them and either respond in writing or verbally. Two, I can give you some written or internet resources to look at – either here or when you leave. Three, I can try to guess what you’re asking about and you can tell me if I’m right or not. Four, you can hang out here until you feel like you can ask again, or you can leave and come back anytime you want to talk.
“Take your time choosing, or you can always wander the shop or leave, if you prefer. Just get my attention if you want me.” She paused, and looked toward Bucky for a moment, then she pulled out a bag of what appeared to be miscellaneous yarn tools and started sorting them on the counter.
(It’s okay to be frustrated, said the Phil-voice. It’s like waiting for the right moment to shoot, said the Clint-voice, which then went on to explain, you can set up conditions for the best chance of success, you can pick the perch with the widest range of options, but sometimes, it’s just not going to work in the moment. The Clint-voice paused. And you can usually move perches if you need to. The Phil-voice interjected, with amusement, Or call in your team for an assist.) (The Bruce-voice asked what his goal was right now, and whether it was time-sensitive.)
The lack of pressure helped, Bucky realized. Not having to immediately come up with an answer, or even answer at all, helped. Between Bucky’s therapist and his – team? that was as good a word as any – Bucky had the skills to work through getting stuck like this. And if he couldn’t, he could press the button on his StarkPhone that pinged JARVIS for assistance. (The Tony-voice muttered smugly about how he’d designed a hardware button that didn’t reduce the StarkPhone’s water-resistance.) Hmmm. Words were still hard, even written, but he was okay. He was frustrated, not in distress. (It was Natasha who had asked Bruce if he was willing to teach Bucky how yoga could be used to increase body awareness. She hadn’t been surprised that practicing mindfulness of his body had helped Bucky recognize oncoming panic attacks. Bucky’s therapist was impressed. The Stevie-voice pointed out that impressing his therapist shouldn’t be Bucky’s goal, but the Clint-voice gave him a thumbs up.)
Bucky rapped the counter gently with the knuckles of his flesh hand. When Ivy looked up, he pointedly raised one finger, lowered it, then raised three fingers.
“You want to try writing, and I can guess what you’re trying to get at?”
He nodded.
“Alright, whenever you’re ready,” Ivy said, then nodded toward the notebook between them.
Bucky pulled the paper and pen over, then flipped the notebook open. He paused to think, then started writing, not trying to structure complete sentences.
Felt garments?
He turned the page slightly so it was lying parallel on the counter and he and Ivy could both read it.
“Sure, you can felt garments. Some common felted items are hats, slippers, and capes or other outerwear. Felting causes garments to shrink, so you have to knit or crochet them larger than the final size you need. That means making large items takes a lot of yarn and a lot of time, but people do it. The other consideration is how you’re going to do the felting. Larger items need a larger basin, but a washing machine or bathtub works for bigger stuff.”
Tapping the pen gently against the paper, Bucky stared unseeing at the page while he thought.
Not made recent. Start small. He was frustrated with that, but he couldn’t get more words out to clarify what he meant.
“Hmmm.” Ivy mouthed the words to themself and frowning slightly, obviously trying to work out his meaning. “You mean an item that is old? Not made recently?” They glanced at Bucky, and he shook his head a little. Looking down again, she said, “No, I didn’t think so.” A moment later, they exclaimed, “Oh! You haven’t made anything recently?” and then they made eye contact with Bucky, who had been startled into looking at them. He blinked a few times, then nodded in relief.
“If you pick something relatively simple, a big project isn’t really that different from a small project. It just gets less portable! That said, I know I lose my desire to keep working on a project if it takes too much time.” Ivy thought for a moment. “Do you know if you want to knit or crochet?”
Bucky answered with one hand raised and tilted back and forth in the air between them.
“You’re not sure?
He nodded again, glad Ivy seemed to be reasonably capable of interpreting his terse questions. (The Thor-voice pointedly reminded Bucky that he was effectively communicating to Ivy. Shared language was no guarantee of understanding. Bucky tried to ignore that, but the Thor-voice was backed up by the Phil-voice.)
“Do you know how to knit and crochet both?” A nod. “Okay, I’d recommend knitted items for people who are new to felting, but knitting and crochet can both be felted, and you can certainly make hats, slippers, and outerwear either way, too.
“Do you have knitting needles already? No? That means we don’t need to consider if we want to match the tools you already have on hand to a project. So we can look for a project, then we can get you supplies. Let’s see…” Ivy turned to rummage around in a drawer behind the counter, and she returned with a small tablet in hand. “I don’t have any felting projects printed out, but we can look for some examples online. How are you with screens?”
Bucky wrote, Bright colors bad in the notebook.
“Okay, thanks for telling me. I’m going to turn down the color saturation, turn on eye protection (that’ll make everything sepia-tone), and turn down the brightness just a little. Hmm.”
They laid the tablet on the counter beside Bucky’s notebook where they could both see the screen. The web page read ‘Ravelry’ in a bulky, reddish font.
“How’s this?”
Bucky met Ivy’s eyes for just a moment and nodded very slightly.
“Okay, great. If you’re done looking at the screen, you can tell me, step back from the counter, push the tablet toward me, or whatever you need to, alright?”
He nodded again, this time not looking at Ivy’s face. As Bucky watched, Ivy navigated to ‘Patterns’ and then to ‘advanced search’. They selected ‘knitting’, and from the ‘Attributes’ and ‘Construction’ section, they selected ‘felted/fulled’.
“That’s a start. Can you help me choose a size range that will fit the person who will wear your project?”
Ivy opened the ‘Age / Size / Fit’ section and under that, ‘Age or Size’. Bucky pointed to ‘Adult’ on the screen.
Next, they looked at the ‘Gender’ options together. Ivy waited for Bucky to choose, but he hestitated. After a moment, Ivy said, “We don’t have to make a choice here, but we can include or exclude. Are there any options you’d like to exclude?”
That was easier. Bucky pointed at ‘female’. Ivy selected ‘female’, then selected the drop-down under ‘How should these options relate?’. She chose ‘Adult and not female’, and the screen updated with their search results.
“I’m going to go ahead and exclude discontinued patterns, too. I’ve been disappointed one too many times,” Ivy said, wryly. “You can sometimes find out-of-print patterns in hardcopy, but let’s not go down that rabbit hole just yet.”
Together, Ivy and Bucky scrolled through the search results, with Ivy occasionally asking, “Any of these?” and Bucky shaking his head ‘No’ each time. Then, Bucky grunted in surprise. Ivy immediately stopped and looked toward him, raising an eyebrow. Bucky leaned closer. For a moment, he’d thought he saw his Stevie in a picture. On second look, it wasn’t Stevie at all, but the hat on the screen reminded him vividly of the hats Steve had worn Before. Before everything.
Bucky pointed at the hat, called ‘Inishmore Cap - Felted Version’.
https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/inishmore-cap---felted-version
“Ooo, I like the look,” said Ivy. “Let’s see what you’d need. US 10 needle size, and one of the tags is three-needle bind-off…”
Bucky huffed in amusement. “Need three?” he grunted out.
“Ha, yeah. You’d need at least three needles. Not a lot of projects. Or really any at all. It’s uncharted waters, purchasing a paid pattern that you can’t know much about. What do you think?”
Sniper silent, Bucky thought hard for a moment.
“S’right.”
“You want it?” A nod. “Do you have a Ravelry account?” Bucky turned to stare at her. “I’ll take that as a no. Okay, let me think.” Ivy’s nails tapped gently against the screen. (The Pepper-voice and Natasha-voice murmured quietly in appreciation of Ivy’s manicured nails.)
“So, if you’re going to purchase the pattern, I want you to be able to access the electronic copy, and you really need a Ravelry account for that. Do you want to make an account? Or do you want me or someone else to help you make an account?”
Bucky picked up the pen. You.
“We can do that! Can you tell me your email address?” Bucky followed along as Ivy bookmarked the Ravelry pattern page, and emailed it to themself (“Just in case.”), then logged out of Ravelry to enter the new account section.
“Email address?” Ivy asked again. Bucky was stumped. He had many email addresses, but Tony was horrified when he realized Strike Team Delta still used their SHIELD accounts for personal email (Clint), so he had strong-armed the whole team into creating Stark Industries emails and begged them all to switch to their new email accounts. The only problem was Bucky couldn’t remember his SI email address. He knew someone who would know, though.
Wait.
“Sure, I’ll keep sorting while you figure it out.”
Bucky pulled out his Stark Phone and pressed the ‘JARVIS’ button. A message popped up on the screen ‘Is this an emergency? Help will be dispatched in 10 seconds unless cancelled. [Yes] [No].’ The screen read ‘8 seconds’ when Bucky pressed the [NO] option. Tony had added a timer after the time Bucky had pressed the button when he couldn’t read or speak anymore, and he’d had to sit there panicking for 5 minutes until JARVIS got worried and tried contacting him through the phone speaker. Bucky thought ten seconds was too short, but he’d been overruled by Steve and Phil both. In an emergency, they’d said, if someone was trying to hurt him, ten seconds was the absolute longest they were willing to wait.
So, functionally, the help button now doubled as a panic button. He thought it was pretty hilarious that they’d given the Winter Solider a panic button. (The Sam-voice found it much less funny, and real-Sam was so impressed by the function that he’d asked Tony if it was possible to create more devices for the veteran support group. Tony was working on a way to duplicate the functionality without asking JARVIS to split his attention too many different ways. When Bucky had heard that, he’d protested that he wasn’t worth taking up JARVIS’s attention. JARVIS himself had shut that down.)
The screen on his phone had opened a chat window, and the first message to him read, ‘Hello, Bucky. How may I assist you? You may type or speak to answer.’ (JARVIS had called him “Mr. Barnes” for a while, until he’d overheard JARVIS use Clint’s first name, and Bucky had asked Clint how he’d gotten JARVIS to do that. Clint told him, “Just ask. JARVIS cares if you’re comfortable.”)
Bucky typed back, ‘hi JARVIS need si email’
‘Do you mean your Stark Industries email address?’
‘y’
It felt bad, to leave off the punctuation and write in awkward shorthand, but everyone, including JARVIS and his therapist (and Sam, who sometimes put in his two cents when he thought Bucky was spiraling), had encouraged Bucky to communicate however worked for him at the time, and to not force himself to make it “neater” if it was working for him. It was only right to make sure JARVIS’s name was correct, though.
Ah, that was right. Tony had asked him whether he wanted his email to be “Bucky” or “James”. Bucky had responded with, “Whatever everyone else is doing,” but Tony had just smiled slightly and said, “I’ll make it Bucky, since that’s the name you usually use, but just let me or JARVIS know if you ever want to change it.” He’d learned later that Tony had asked all the Avengers (and everyone peripheral to the Avengers, who he also made email accounts for) what they wanted their emails to say, even the people like Thor who didn’t often use any other names. (Clint wanted to be ‘hawk.guy’. Phil and Tony had compromised by making him a second email address.)
Rapping his knuckles on the counter again resulted in Ivy’s attention. They came by over to the tablet and said, “Ready? What’s your email address?”
Bucky hesitated, staring down at this phone. He could show his phone screen to Ivy, or he could write down his email. Writing would be harder, but he didn’t want to show them his chat log. On his phone, a message popped up. ‘Clear screen except for email address? [Yes] [No]’ Gratefully, Bucky pressed [Yes] and his phone screen cleared to leave his email address in otherwise blank note. Bucky made a mental note to tell JARVIS how much he appreciated the proactive choices.
He showed the email address to Ivy, and together, they created a Ravelry account for Bucky. The account required email verification, and Ivy said he could probably access his email on his phone. Of course, he hadn’t set it up. It was alright, though. JARVIS could help him, and he could even do it discreetly.
When Bucky opened his phone (the Tony-voice grumbled again about the lack of security for facial recognition or thumbprints), he found a message on the screen again. It read, ‘Open email app? [Yes] [No]’. Bucky selected [Yes] and a new application opened on his phone. The next message read ‘Log in to Bucky Barnes’s Stark Industries email account? [Yes] [No]’. Smiling slightly, Bucky selected [Yes] again. There were several emails in his inbox, but there was one at the top from ‘Ravelry’, and Bucky selected it. The email directed him to click a link to verify his account. Trusting JARVIS’s and Tony’s security, he followed the instructions. When he finished the verification, another message popped up on his phone.
‘JARVIS: Bucky, do you wish me to link your Stark Industries credit card to your Ravelry account? This will make it simpler to purchase items. [Yes] [No]’
Bucky pressed [Yes], then grabbed the notebook and pen again.
Linking $
Ivy leaned over to read when he’d written, then guessed, “You’re setting up a payment method?”
Bucky nodded, and she replied, “Sounds good!”
He glanced down at his phone, and the chat window floating in the corner of his screen read, ‘It’s done, but you’ll want to type something else in the chat if you want to look like you set it up yourself.’
‘thx JARVIS explain how l8r?’
‘Of course, Bucky. Just tell me when you’d like to discuss it. That should be enough time, if you’re ready.’
‘bye’
‘Goodbye, Bucky. Good luck with your new account.’
Ready to keep going, Bucky looked up at Ivy and nodded.
“Time to buy a knitting pattern, then.”
“Yes,” Bucky said, softly.
“Alright, the bookmark should be here…” She used his new credentials to log into his account, making sure to tell the browser not to remember his details. (“Make sure you change your password later, okay?” Bucky thought for a moment, then sent a message to JARVIS in his special chat app that said ‘change pw l8r’. JARVIS had told Bucky to use his chat as a way to set reminders any time he wanted. It was incredibly helpful because JARVIS would remind him at convenient moments.) Ivy clicked on the bookmark link, and the pattern Bucky had picked opened on the screen. In the top right corner, Bucky could see that his account was logged in.
“Just to check, this pattern is marked relatively complex, and it looks like it’ll require notions – that’s yarn tools that aren’t needles or hooks – and you may have to try a few needle sizes before you find the right size – you’re sure you want to buy it?”
Bucky double-checked the price. $5 was a lot, once upon a time. But it would be fine now. Even if he did spend so much money that he couldn’t feed or house himself (and he wouldn’t) – he literally got his food and housing for free with the Avengers, even if he wasn’t going out to fight. And – this wasn’t for himself, it was for Stevie. Steve spent $5 on coffee at least once a week.
“Sure,” he said firmly.
Ivy smiled down at the tablet. “And do you have some idea how much the yarn and needles are going to cost?”
Blinking, Bucky looked at them, then shook his head.
“220 yards is something between one and two skeins of most yarns, so you’ll probably need to buy two skeins. A skein of yarn – nice yarn - runs anywhere between $8 for on sale yarn and $40 or more for expensive yarn.”
Bucky blanched a bit at the price, but nodded for Ivy to continue.
“Needles depend on the material and the manufacturer, more or less. I’m going to recommend something slippery like low-friction wood needles, metal needles, or even some plastics if you’re going to work with wool that will felt well. One medium-size circular will be anywhere between $10 and $30 dollars, and I suspect you’ll need at least two sets of needles for this, but you’ll have to confirm in the pattern. There are some other tools I think you should get, and they’ll probably cost about $50, but you can do without if you’d prefer. If you need or want wool detergent, that’ll be around $20.
In his pocket, Bucky’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out to check the notification, and the screen read, ‘Would you like an estimated price based on the costs mentioned? [Yes] [No]’. Bucky selected [Yes], and the phone screen cleared to show ‘$35-$210+’. That – was a huge range. But $200 was still not unreasonable, not for Stevie.
“So, what do you think? Still worth the pattern that may or may not be exactly what you want?”
After thinking for a moment, Bucky locked his phone screen, put the device in his pocket, and nodded firmly.
“Cool! I love a good adventure.” Ivy bought the pattern. “Alright, so you’ll be able to download this from any device, as long as you’re logged into your Ravelry account, but I’ll print a copy for you, too. Ooo, two files. And one of them looks like a guide with pictures! That’s good. Probably means it’s a bit complex, but it’s always nice when there’s a good set of instructions with pictures.”
They read through the pattern together. Bucky felt a bit daunted at the complex knitting instructions and seaming process, but Ivy was correct - the images looked like they would help.
“Yeah, you’re definitely going to need two circular needles. We could get you fixed or interchangeable… Hmmm.”
“Okay, I’m going to gather some knitting needles for you to choose from and pick out notions that I think will help. Do you have any yarn tools right now?”
He shook his head.
“That’s totally fine; most accessories you can do without, and felted items don’t have to exactly meet gauge, as long as it’s close enough. That makes choosing needle sizes easier. Let’s get you set up to look for a yarn, if you want to do that now.” Bucky did, and they walked toward the section of the store Ivy explained was set aside for middle-weight yarns.
“So you’re looking for a worsted weight yarn. A light aran or a heavy DK would probably work, too.” Ivy picked up a yarn to show Bucky. “The weight of the yarn describes the diameter, more or less. This is about right, according to the pattern. You need a yarn that is entirely or almost entirely wool, and it can’t be superwash.” They swapped the yarn in their hands for another, similar looking yarn. “Superwash yarns are treated, and they will be marked somewhere on the label. The treatment is intended to make wool more washable by preventing felting, so you definitely don’t want that. You can also find the fiber content on the label, see here? I’m going to advise you avoid self-striping yarns.”
Buky’s head was starting to throb. There was so much vocabulary to remember, and the information on the labels wasn’t laid out the same way for each brand.
“Mm. It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?” Ivy was watching Bucky from the corner of her eye. “Here, I’ve got an idea.” They led the way back to the store counter.
Behind the counter, Ivy grabbed what appeared to be a strip of paper, and Bucky quickly realized it was a loose yarn label.
“I’m going to make some notes for you! And you can always ask me questions or just point at things so I can explain them.” Picking up Bucky’s abandoned pen, Ivy started scribbling on the label. “Here, this is where you’ll find the yarn weight. You want a yarn around #4, or it may say ‘worsted’. This section” – they pointed to a group of text they had just circled – “describes the yarn content. It may be in different places on the label, but you can recognize it by the measurements given in percentages. If a yarn is superwash, it’ll usually say that in the same section, or sometimes it’ll be in the ‘name’ of the yarn or somewhere on the front. It’s either something you really want, or something you really don’t, so it’s usually made obvious.”
She grabbed the notebook Bucky had been using, separated a page from the back, and started making more notes.
“Okay, so, in no particular order: worsted / #4 weight yarn, NOT superwash, ~100% wool content.
“Self-striping means the yarn forms stripes by utilizing long stretches of yarn in the same color before it changes to a whole new color. Because of the way this hat is constructed, making it look good with self-striping yarn would be a bit complicated. You absolutely could do it, but it might be frustrating. Variegated yarn – that’s yarn with minor to major color shifts in semi-random intervals – would also probably be frustrating. It’s also likely to get muddled when you felt. I recommend something like a solid color, speckle, or tweed. Those should be a relatively consistent color across the skein and will probably look nice felted.”
Ivy added the color recommendations (and those to avoid) to their list.
“Here – feel free to walk around with the notes and label, or you can leave them on the counter and come back to reference them whenever you need. You can also take the notebook and pen to make notes or write questions for me. Can you think of anything else you might need?”
That merited some thought. Bucky stopped for a moment, and he noticed he was rubbing the fingers of his flesh hand gently against each other. Odd. (The Tony-voice crabbed about liquid soaps with particulates in the them in the back of his head. Oh.)
The notebook had been offered to him, so he grabbed the writing supplies and jotted –
Sink or wipes
“For your hands? There’s a sink in the bathroom if you go straight back through the curtain, and…” She stepped back and dropped her gaze to survey the space on the other side of the counter. “Ha!” Ivy grabbed a package of baby wipes and set them on the surface in front of Bucky. “You are welcome to use these, too.”
Bucky signed, Thank you.
“Oh! You’re welcome!”
It was a relief to find that Clint had been correct; more people recognized the sign for ‘Thank you’ than he might have expected. He turned to walk back toward the section of yarn that should have what he needed. Behind him, Ivy softly said, “Have fun,” and Bucky was grateful he didn’t have to do any more to end the interaction.
Some time later (and after four instances of needing to wash his hands to alleviate the sensation of a fiber that he was – literally – rubbing him the wrong way), Bucky returned to the counter carrying two skeins of a beautiful slade-grey yarn that almost looked like two colors plied together. (https://www.aran.com/super-soft-pure-merino-wool-knitting-hanks-ocean-grey)
“Oooo, that’s pretty. That’s going to look really remarkable knit up,” commented Ivy, when he reached the counter again. “So – I need you to pick your knitting needles. Everything else I have set out” – and Bucky saw there was quite a lot – “is optional.”
He nodded, and turned to look at the knitting needles that were sitting separately from the other items. Some of the knitting needles had what looked to be flexible wires between two needles, and some were sets of double-pointed needles like the ones he’d used Before. After thinking about it, he could see why a fixed circle of wire might be less, well, flexible for different projects, but it seemed like a neat idea, nonetheless.
Ivy was watching him when he looked up.
“Are you familiar with circular needles? Or the magic loop method?”
Bucky wasn’t, and he shook his head to indicate so, but instead of letting Ivy reply, he wrote in his notebook.
Can learn
They smiled widely. “You don’t have to, but it means you can use one large circular knitting needle – the ones with long flexible cables – for more kinds of projects.”
Nodding in agreement, Bucky pointed firmly at the circular needles, of which there were several kinds.
“Okay, so I’ve grabbed a 16 inch circular needle in the recommended size 10, and I’ve also grabbed a long 40 inch cicular needle in each of these materials. You can pull them out and see how they feel.”
If it was okay to pull the needles out of the package, Bucky absolutely wanted to do that.
It turned out Bucky liked the smooth wood needles the best, and Ivy set those aside for him to purchase.
“Now we have the other stuff-“ Bucky cut her off with a waved hand between them, and she paused to raise an eyebrow toward him. (Stop when you need to, the Natasha-voice reminded him. Stop before it gets so bad you have to hide. It was good advice.)
All of it, Bucky wrote.
“Are you sure? This stuff really isn’t necessary.”
He nodded, and Ivy didn’t try to dissuade him again. The total cost was right at $200, and he smiled slightly thinking about how proud Stevie would be of him for spending money on himself. Not that this hat would be for Bucky, but Stevie wouldn’t realize that immediately.
Ivy wound his yarn in cakes (and Bucky learned the vocabulary for a ‘swift’ and ‘winder’), then packed his items in a paper bag. They presented him with a printed copy of the pattern (“I know it’s long, but it’s easier to make notes this way.”) and waved goodbye as he exited the store. The bright streetlights struck him as odd. He’d spent more time in the store than he thought. Suddenly, his throat tightened and his stomach twisted up – what if? But no, his phone read ’16:30’ and the store hours posted on the door indicated closing time was 5pm. His hands were a bit shaky, but the anxiety from a moment before washed out of him. Bucky was ready to be at home, even though he’d been remarkably steady throughout the experience.