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Bucky tossed his phone onto the table with a sigh.
"Wilson's still not answering your calls?"
He looked up to see Yelena watching him from across the table, peeking over her Chinese takeout. Bucky gave her a sharp look meaning drop it, wierd feeling settled in his stomach. Living with few of the greatest assassins meant they read each other far too well to hide some things. He wasn’t sure he liked it much. "Sometimes I think that being Captain America comes with a situationship with Bucky Barnes." She said shortly.
"If you're him for more than a day," Ava added, smiling at Walker, who leaned over quickly to grab her food container — but Ava was faster, pulling back before he could reach it.
"It is like a package. Here you go: your suit, your shield, oh — and Bucky Barnes to keep your company."
"You're both so hilarious," Bucky muttered. He looked around to find every teammate looking at him, Yelena and Ava not bothering to hide their smiles.
Eating team dinners was something they started after moving into the Tower. Officially, they did it for Bob and team bonding, but deep down, they all saw it as an excuse not to be alone. He liked it most days. Something comforting about sitting around a table, the feeling that they were in this together, trying to figure out what came next. They had each other's backs, clumsily trying to help one another.
But sometimes it was too much, and right now, Bucky felt like he could just hide out in his old apartment where no one talked to him from morning till night, and he could pretend his problems didn’t exist.
“He has to pick up eventually, right?” said Yelena after a moment and Bucky wished she didn't. “It’s not like it’s your fault Valentina dropped us into this shit.”
Right. And maybe if Sam wasn’t such a stupid dork and actually answered his phone, they could talk about this whole Avengers shit show or anything else or how his nightmares come back after fighting the Void. But Bucky didn’t want to talk about it now with them. Not now, and not anytime soon. And of course they want to know what Captain America fought about them, misfits, as a new team.
God, he needed a way out of this conversation. It was going nowhere, and he was tired of them all waiting for him to say something, but he had nothing left to give tonight.
Luckily, Alexei broke the silence.
“Enough with the sulking! Maybe we should do something together!” he shouted, placing a heavy hand on Yelena’s shoulder. “Movie! We should have a movie night!”
“That would be fun,” Bob said, visibly excited.
“Great. I’ll go grab some snacks from a store. Anything specific?” Bucky offered quickly, seeing his chance to be alone for some time, already standing up. Before Bob could say anything, he added, “I’m not buying you any energy drinks.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
While the team argued about the best kind of chips, Bucky slipped on leather jacket over his hoodie. He told them to start without him and stepped into the elevator. As the doors slid shut and the elevator began to descend, he exhaled—long and slow, like he’d been holding that breath since dinner started.
He pulled his phone from his pocket.
No calls. No messages.
Of course not.
Stupid Wilson and his stubborn ass.
Bucky ran a hand over his face, jaw tense. Can't he just pick the fuck up?
Things had been overwhelming lately. Just when he thought he finally understood what he was meant to do, to be, everything shifted again. Like it always did. How much longer was he supposed to keep his guard up, never resting.
After Void, the Winter Soldier, that shadow version of himself haunting him in his dreams, sharper, louder, more insistent than they’d been in months. Bucky felt like he was going to break if he didn’t talk to someone. His new team would understand, maybe. Yelena probably the best. She saw through him more often than he liked to admit. But Sam already knew, he knew the worst parts, Bucky didn’t have to explain every scar or hesitation. Sam knew him. He’d thought maybe talking to Sam would help. That maybe Sam would know what to say. Or just listen.
He looked at his phone again. One message. Not from Sam, just Yelena asking for more popcorn.
On the way to the store, he felt the eyes.
Even lost in thought, he noticed them lingering glances, half-turned heads. People trying to decide if they recognized him or just imagined it.
He tugged his hoodie up over his head and picked up his pace.
Walking through the store aisles, he tossed things into the basket on autopilot — Yelena’s favorite gummy bears, pretzel sticks, the kind of chips Alexi would probably inhale by himself.
He stopped when he caught a familiar image on a box of cereal — Captain America, smiling like a damn cartoon.
Something itched in his chest.
He ignored it.
He grabbed two chicken sandwiches from the fridge section and headed for the checkout.
When he walked out of the store with two heavy bags in hands (because when you have three super soldiers under one roof, too much food just doesn’t exist) he didn’t feel like going back yet. So he took the long way around.
He wasn’t walking fast, his eyes on the sidewalk, thoughts running through his head.
Suddenly, noises from a side alley pulled him out of his thoughts.The sound of a body hitting a wall.
No one else on the street seemed to care. Then he saw it. A tall man had a woman pinned against a brick wall in a narrow alleyway, her arms pushing at his chest, trying to get free. He dropped the bags by the entrance to the alley and moved toward them, a few quick steps and he shoved the guy off her in one smooth, practiced motion.
The man stumbled backward, barely keeping his balance.
“You got a problem here?” Bucky said, voice low and even, like steel just below the surface.
The man stumbled back a few steps, glaring at Bucky.
“Mind your own business,” he snapped.
Bucky didn’t move. “This is my business.”
The guy stepped forward like he was going to say something else or maybe try something, but then looked Bucky up and down, really looked.
Something must’ve clicked because his face shifted. He scoffed, muttered something under his breath, and backed off.
“Whatever,” he grumbled, before turning and walking away down the alley.
The woman stayed frozen for a second, breathing hard, then pushed herself off the wall.
“Oh my God, thank you,” she said, running a shaky hand through her hair.
“Thank you. You’re… you’re my hero.”
My hero
Hero
The word hit him sideways.
“No problem,” he managed to get out. Shit. It was all getting to him too much lately. He frowned.
“You need more help?”
“No, thanks,” the girl said, already holding her phone.
“I’ll call a friend.”
He nodded.
Bucky glanced at his own phone.
A message from Yelena: take your time.
He would.
When he looked up again, the girl was gone.
A soft rustle behind him made him tense instantly. Something shifted at his back.
He turned sharply, his metal hand curling into a fist.
No one was there.
But then… the bags moved.
He stepped closer, eyes narrowing. Then he saw it.
A cat.
Just a white cat, nosing around in one of the paper bags.
Bucky crouched beside it. He raised an eyebrow as the cat looked up at him.
Blue eyes met his, steady and unbothered. The cat didn’t flinch — it just stared back, then let out a short meow, tail flicking upright like it owned the place.
“Weirdo,” Bucky muttered.
He gave the cat a closer look. It didn’t look like a house pet — thin, no collar, fur a little scruffy.
“You looking for food?”
The cat didn’t answer, obviously. Just blinked at him, then turned its head back to the bag like it had better things to do.
Bucky sighed.
He reached into one of the bags, pulled out a chicken sandwich, unwrapped it halfway, and tore off a chunk of meat.
“Here,” he said, dropping it gently in front of the cat.
The cat sniffed it, then dug in without hesitation.
Bucky watched it for a moment, arms resting on his knees. When hole chicken was gone cat's eyes turned back to him again. Bucky shook his head and tossed it a bit more, then stood up brushing off his hands, and grabbed the bags.
He didn’t head back toward the Tower. Not yet. He let his feet carry him, bags swinging at his sides, hoodie pulled low over his face. At some point, he found himself near a small, half-forgotten green space tucked between buildings, cracked bench sat beneath a leaning tree that probably hadn’t seen a proper spring in years. He sat on it leaving bags beside him. It was getting colder. Bucky zipped up his jacket and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Even Yelena hadn’t bothered to send any sarcastic messages this time.
Without realizing, his leg started bouncing while he fidgeted with his phone for a bit. He bit his lip, cursing silently, and dialed Sam’s number.
Mixed feelings ran through him.
The first ring.
Bucky didn’t even know what he would say to Sam if he picked up.
He wasn’t sure it mattered, he just wanted to hear his voice.
The second ring.
Even if Sam ended up yelling at him, he could do it for the next hour — Bucky wouldn’t care.
The third ring.
His grip on the phone tightened.
Another ring. And another, and another.
Bucky stopped counting.
He wasn’t surprised when the call ended. Bucky was sure that if he held the phone any tighter, it would crush in his hand.
He let out a breath and buried his face in his hands.
His leg was still bouncing out of control now. He hated it. That restless energy, like something inside him was rattling the bars.
What was he even doing?
How had he ended up in this place sitting in the cold, calling Sam like his approval might fix something inside him.
Was what they were doing really wrong? Steve had fought to keep the Avengers free from government control, and now here they were, tangled in Valentina’s orders, wearing matching uniforms and trying not to fall apart.
Would Steve have ignored his calls too, like Sam did?
Bucky exhaled slowly, jaw clenched. He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything anymore. He just wanted to talk to Sam. Not even to fix things, not really. He just wanted to hear his voice. To feel like someone still saw him. To believe, even for a minute, that they could figure this out. That he wasn’t completely screwing it all up.
He was trying. God, he was trying.
He was doing everything he could — they all were. Thunderbolts. Avengers. That’s what they were now. It wasn’t perfect. Hell, it barely made sense. But it was something. And Bucky was holding on with both hands, hoping it wouldn’t slip through his fingers like everything else.
Didn’t he deserve something good after everything? He wasn’t sure he can believe that.
Lost in thought, he didn’t pay attention to anything around him — the cold air, the bouncing of his leg, or the hands still pressed against his face like he could hold the world back with his palms alone.
Then, suddenly, something brushed against his leg. His heart stalled — just for a second — and then he looked down, meeting those blue eyes once again.
The cat.
It pressed to his leg, firm and warm and suddenly, that leg wasn’t shaking anymore.
Bucky stared down, confused, expecting maybe his own nerves playing tricks on him, but no. The cat was really there. Again. Those same blue eyes staring up at him like it knew exactly where to find him.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he said under his breath.
He hadn't even noticed it following him. The cat gave a soft chirp and rubbed against his leg again like it was the most normal thing in the world. Then it curled up beside his foot like they did this every day.
Bucky stared.
He glanced around the street like maybe someone would run up and claim it but there was no one. “You serious right now?” He muttered, still half in disbelief.
He shifted his leg slightly to the side, but the cat didn’t flinch. Its tail simply curled around his calf, like it was making sure he wouldn’t go anywhere. Looking into those blue eyes, Bucky didn’t even notice when his hand moved, fingers brushing behind the cat’s ear. The cat leaned into the touch with a soft purr.
Bucky froze and pulled his hand back.
Was he going insane?
The cat gave him a look, then shivered slightly as the wind picked up. That was what finally pushed Bucky over the edge.
He straightened up and tugged his jacket zipper down just enough to loosen it around his hoodie. The warmth trapped inside rushed out against his skin, while the cold air crept in beneath the layers like it had been waiting for an invitation.
"You better not make me regret this, furball," he muttered, patting his thigh lightly. "Come here."
The cat blinked at him slowly, like he was weighing the offer. Then, with the kind of quiet confidence only strays seemed to have, he stepped forward and, in one smooth motion, climbed into Bucky’s lap. He was surprisingly warm and heavier than he looked, his body curling instinctively into the pocket of space between Bucky’s hoodie and jacket.
Bucky watched as the cat settled in his jacket, satisfied and warm. Letting out a breath, he realized the cat’s weight was somehow comforting. His hand moved on its own, reaching up to gently scratch behind its ear. The soft purring that followed vibrated faintly against his chest.
He let himself stay in that moment for a little while longer. But when the next gust of wind cut through the air, sharp and biting, he knew he had to head back.
"You're coming with me, doll," he decided without thinking too much about it.
Carefully, he made sure the cat was steady and secure against him before standing up and grabbing the shopping bags.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Bucky stepped out, the weight of the bags tugging at his arms, the warmth of the small creature tucked inside his jacket still radiating against him. He heard loud voices coming from the living room as he walked toward the kitchen counter to drop off the bags. He noticed the popcorn scattered across the floor before he even heard—
“Look who decided to show up," Walker called out, already half off the couch. "Wanna pick the second movie since you missed the whole first one?”
He didn’t look up, too focused on helping the cat climb out of his jacket and onto the counter.
“What the fuck, Barnes?” Yelena’s voice came sharp and confused from right beside him. “You disappear for a lifetime after fighting with your boyfriend and come back with a cat!?”
“Shut up,” he muttered, sounding like he didn’t really mean it. He did.
Ava leaned in, eyes narrowing like she was analyzing a crime scene. “Where did you even find it?”
“It found me,” Bucky replied simply, watching as Yelena tried to pick up the cat.
The cat, however, slipped out of her hands almost immediately and leapt up onto Bucky’s shoulder, climbing his arm where it rested against the counter.
“I don’t fucking believe it,” Walker said, looking at the scene like the cat had just flown through the room. Alexi, next to him, didn’t look particularly interested in their new houseguest — already halfway through a bag of chips.
“You’re such a girl dad,” Yelena said dryly. “Look at her, climbing you like a mountain.” Bucky felt the cat’s paws press briefly on top of his head.
“Little alpinist,” she added with a smirk.
Bucky didn’t say anything, just carefully removed the cat from his head. He wondered whether he should give her—apparently—a bit more food, or maybe some water. Turning around, he started looking for a bowl.
“Is she staying?” Bob asked, voice full of hope. He was probably giving him those puppy eyes, fidgeting with his hands like he wasn’t sure if he could try petting the cat yet.
“You kidding, Bobby?” Walker objected. Bucky was in the middle of filling the bowl with water. “Barnes picks up a stray and we’re all just fine with it? What is this—some kind of therapy animal?”
Bucky clenched his jaw when their eyes met, sudden and unexpected irritation flaring at the comment about his cat. And what the hell did Walker know about therapy, anyway?
Before he could say anything, Yelena cut in sharply.
“Of course Alpine’s staying, dumbass.”
The cat—Alpine—was currently working her way into the rest of the chicken sandwich when Bucky picked her up with one arm, bowl in the other.
“Whatever,” he muttered as he walked out of the kitchen.
He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself, but he already felt a strange pull toward this cat. He couldn’t imagine getting rid of her now. He looked down, met those same blue eyes again, and felt something warm unfurl deep in his chest.
Without another thought for the movie night, he shut himself away in his room.
Bucky set the bowl down beside the bed and let Alpine jump from his arms to the floor. The moment his jacket hit the mattress, he felt weak. Somehow, his legs carried him over to the tall window stretching from ceiling to floor, and he leaned against the column, his side pressed to the cold glass.
Staring out at the night skyline of New York, he slowly slid down to sit on the ground. With a sigh, he rested his forehead against the window and shut his eyes tight. He could hear Alpine still drinking water behind him, and the muffled voices drifting in from the living room.
The pressure of his phone digging into his back pocket suddenly became impossible to ignore.
He opened his eyes and turned his head just enough to see the cat staring at him from across the dim room.
“C’mere, doll,” he said, reaching out with his metal hand.
She padded over without hesitation, curling up in his lap and nuzzling into his chest. A soft purr vibrated against him as he began stroking her back. The tension in his shoulders started to ease, bit by bit.
Yeah. She was definitely staying.
His thought ones again about phone in his pocket. Bucky bit down on his lower lip as he picked up the phone.
“Last time,” he told Alpine, like she was about to judge him. At least today, he thought.
His fingers curled slightly into her fur as he tapped the number again. The moment it started ringing, he felt like he might pass out — only Alpine’s solid weight in his lap kept him grounded.
Each signal echoed like a drumbeat in his chest. It felt like he was waiting forever, his thoughts running wild through his head, spinning in all directions. With every ring, his heart pounded faster.
And then, in one sharp, silent second, it felt like it stopped.
“Sam?”
“Bucky…”