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The mission in Tibet should have only taken three days.
Just three.
Yelena had looked at him during their last team briefing, something clearly unimpressed in her eyes, and told him, point-blank, "Do you think I'm idiot to give you something longer than that?"
Still, Bucky glared at her. Yes, his expression openly said.
She sniffed at him, greatly offended. "Rude."
Alexei, bless him, had swiped the dossier sitting in front of Bucky and kindly offered, "I could do this."
"No," she said quickly, crossing her arms. "Last time you went out, you caused international incident. This--" She swiped the files off Alexei's hands and pushed them toward Bucky again, "--needs finesse. Subtlety. Meaning Walker is also out."
John merely snorted. "Wasn't planning on volunteering, actually."
So Bucky glared at him, too.
Inconsiderate asshole.
That had been fourteen days ago.
Because the promised three days unbelievably stretched to fucking two weeks since the target suddenly decided that crossing towns and burying himself deep in the mountains was his safest bet. Which, honestly, was completely fair given that Bucky was ready to rip him to pieces by day six, despite the mission being more on interrogating rather than terminating the man. Then communications got spotty from day seven onward, meaning he could barely call the Watchtower without static interfering every goddamn second. Then snowstorms delayed extraction - twice - because of course they did.
By day thirteen, Bucky was one personal inconvenience away from committing several felonies that would have put Alexei's feats to shame.
He was a simple man. All he wanted now were just three simple things:
Freshly brewed coffee.
A long, hot shower.
And of course, Ava.
Who, by then, is actively in the middle of her second trimester.
And the very reason why Bucky was avoiding missions that would take him far from her side for more than a day as much as possible.
Her pregnancy had taken him completely by surprise - though, in hindsight, perhaps it shouldn't have considering they'd been particularly careless during the month or so they were holed up in a safehouse somewhere in Milan. When she told him about it, looking pale and scared while pretending she wasn't both, Bucky barely remembered her exact words. Or if he even spoke at all. Just that he'd instantly crossed the room they shared, gathered her in his arms, and kissed her until she was laughing and crying against his mouth.
Because happiness like this wasn't supposed to happen to former weapons of mass destruction masquerading as people - like the two of them.
And yet, somehow, it did.
And Bucky had wanted to be with Ava through every ugly, beautiful, terrifying step of the way. Which, for the most part, the members of the New Avengers understood and honored - something he deeply appreciated, even if he'd been tightlipped about it.
Then the Tibet mission happened.
Now he's coming back to the Watchtower irritated, miserable, and hairy enough to be labeled as 'feral and possibly rabid' by both locals and anyone with half a brain who sets eyes on him.
Because who knew what pregnancy milestone he missed while he was gone? Who knew what Ava was going through without him by her side?
Who knew if this was something he'd get to experience again?
Thankfully, the latest snowstorm cleared enough that Bucky was able to go home without incident. Already, he's looking forward to a good, hot meal and long, uninterrupted hours lying on their bed, arms curled around Ava and their child. Just to assure himself that they were still here, they were safe, and they were his.
He feels his shoulders loosen the moment the Watchtower doors open with a welcoming hiss.
Except, when it did, the first thing to hit Bucky straight away--
--was the sound of Ava moaning.
Deep.
Guttural.
The kind that he often pulls out of her with his own mouth.
And for a wild moment, the world absolutely refuses to make sense.
The duffel bag he's holding - full of supplies, weapons, and a beautiful set of turquoise jewelry he'd bought for her on a whim - falls on the floor without warning.
Then Bucky was moving.
Just to be assaulted with:
"Oh my god, John. Please. Don't stop. Don't you dare stop."
...Walker.
Of course, it's John Walker making Ava moan like that.
Unless a completely different John had somehow wandered into the Watchtower, Bucky was pretty sure he was going to fucking murder John Walker with his bare hands.
Because apparently, it's not enough that Dime Store Captain America’s coming in full of useful advice about prenatal vitamins, food for easing nausea, and how to make Ava's pregnancy as comfortable as possible. No, now he's making sure he's personally pleasing her, too.
All during Bucky's absence.
Probably why the man didn't even bother to offer to take on the Tibet mission, the inconsiderate asshole.
Bucky turns a corner and nastily thinks, should've gone for the neck instead of just the arm years ago.
He charges into the common room, expecting the absolute worst, vibranium arm nearly vibrating with the urgent desire to do extreme, bloody violence--
--only to skid to a stop so fast he nearly got vertigo.
Because the scene in front of him? Revealed that John did, in fact, have his giant hands on Ava.
Just... completely different from what Bucky was imagining.
There she was, lying down on the couch, completely clothed in her fluffy pajamas, arm dramatically thrown over her eyes, Alpine lying beside her like a guard.
And seated in front of them on the floor?
Was John.
Who has his hands wrapped around her delicate– well, now swollen-looking– foot.
Massaging it with the full focus he usually displayed during difficult missions.
The man's using his thumbs to press something near the arch of her foot, and in response, Ava basically whimpers, "God, yes. That's it, right there."
John laughs. "You owe me like fifty bucks for this session, you know. And maybe a pair of noise-canceling earphones, too."
Ava lifts her arm to peer down at him. "I’ll give you whatever the hell you want. Just don't fucking stop what you're doing for like the next hour or ten."
"Yes, Ma'am."
And then, oh-so-casually, John looks up.
Meets Bucky's eyes.
And says, with a shit-eating grin, "Oh hey Barnes. Welcome back. Tibet still standing when you left it or what?"
Silence.
Alpine leaps off the couch to greet Bucky, walking between his feet with her tail up, mewling happily all the while, before disappearing somewhere in the back.
Meanwhile, Ava pushes herself on both her elbows, looks over her shoulder, and practically beams at him. "Buck! You're home."
The naked happiness on her face managed to slightly lessen the fury he’s feeling.
But still.
Bucky places his hands on his hips, his brain trying to make sense of what his eyes are seeing. "What," he demands, "the fuck is happening right now?"
"Isn't it obvious?" John asks with a knowing smirk. And because the man seemingly has no sense of personal preservation whatsoever around the Winter Soldier, he adds, "I'm pleasing your girl."
Before Bucky could react, Ava throws a pillow at John’s face, which he just bats away with a laugh.
She looks at Bucky again. "My feet were swelling, Bucky. They were the size of small countries, I swear. They hurt."
At that, he makes his way towards her, concern coming off him in waves as he looks at her foot still cradled in John’s gigantic hands. "How long have they been hurting?"
"Couple of days," she replies with a light shrug.
"And you didn't tell me?"
Ava makes a face at him. "You were in the middle of a mission. I wasn't about to distract you just because my feet were sore and felt like inflated balloons. Besides," she sniffs, "comms were shitty."
Comms had been shitty, yes.
And now John's here.
Doing things that Bucky was supposed to be doing for her.
"It's all the fluid in your system and shit," he says, moving his thumbs again in a way that makes Ava practically melt. "I told you, you shouldn't be on your feet too much if you can help it."
"Excuse you. I'm pregnant," Ava snipes, "not an invalid. You fuckers already sidelined me from missions. You are not going to sideline me from fucking standing, too."
"Yeah?" John presses something on her feet, making her hiss. "Then better prepare for your feet to swell to the size of continents. And me repeatedly telling you, ‘I told you so.’"
"Oh, who cares?" she says, leaning back on the couch again. "For as long as you've got your magic hands with you--"
"Magic hands," Bucky repeats with great disdain, as if reminding both John and Ava that he was, you know, in the room with them.
John glances at him again. "What can I say? Pregnant women love them."
Silence.
Which Bucky spends glaring at John.
Then Ava holds out a palm to Bucky. The moment he accepts it, she brings the back of his hand to her mouth and presses a kiss to his knuckles.
"I missed you, James," she says sincerely. "I'm so glad you're home."
Before squinting at him and adding, "Even if you're kinda looking like a homicidal bear right now."
John snorts. "Smells like one, too."
Bucky turns to him again. "Don't start. I'm still on the fence if I should hit you for making her sound like that."
“Oh my god. You heard that?”
Now he’s glaring at her. “I think the locals in Tibet heard it.”
Ava at least had the grace to look embarrassed now. "Okay, in my defense, he's really good with his hands. Like. Freakishly good."
Bucky winces. "Please stop complimenting his hands to my face."
"And in my defense," John says, "it's either I volunteer my services or you'll be coming home to dead bodies right now."
She weakly kicks at him with her free foot. "Asshole. I was nowhere near that murderous!"
John merely raises a brow at her.
Ava reluctantly relents with, "Today. I was nowhere near that murderous today."
John snorts again. "Oh, really? Because I seem to remember that you threatened to rip out Alexei's spine just this morning--"
"He was breathing too loudly near me," she tells Bucky with deep and utter conviction.
"--then you told Yelena you're going to take out her heart with your fucking hands--"
"She deserves it!" Ava says indignantly. "She's the one who gave Bucky the Tibet mission!"
John sighs, then looks up at Bucky with a long-suffering expression. "And that's what you’ve been missing for the past two weeks, pal. Bet you’re real glad coming home to it, huh?"
Yeah, sure. Fine. Whatever.
Bucky is still stuck on the fact that John has his freakishly large hands on Ava's dainty foot.
And that Ava's currently wearing a look on her face that tells him she is extremely satisfied right now.
Which is usually how she looks after they've--
--yeah.
So he paces once, twice, before making a decision, moving to John's side, and tapping the man's bent knee with his own shoe. "Move."
John raises his brows at him.
Ava, meanwhile, looks a bit wary. "Bucky--"
He ignores her and taps John's knee with his shoe again. "I said, move."
"Oh, I heard you," John replies. "I just don't think you know what you're getting yourself into."
"It's a fucking massage, John, not a science experiment," Bucky points out. "I know how to give massages."
"Well." John raises both hands in surrender and stands. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He then sits himself just beside Ava, seemingly ready to watch Bucky do his thing, looking all smug and shit.
Meanwhile, Ava's wariness actually moved to nervousness, especially when Bucky sat in front of her and cupped her foot with both his hands. "Okay, so, easy... easy--"
Bucky internally scoffs. Easy, she says. He can do easy.
And, to prove his point, he enthusiastically presses his thumbs into the soles of her feet.
And Ava shrieks like she's just been electrocuted.
"Oh my god, Barnes!" she says, pulling her foot off his hold. "What the fuck did I ever do to you?"
Bucky recoils at her reaction. "What? What? What did I do?"
"I think you just crushed my foot!"
"No, I didn't!"
"Pretty sure you just did," John butts in, hands folded at the back of his head.
Bucky points at him. "Stay out of this." To Ava, he says, "I was giving you easy, doll."
"Well, your easy and my easy are obviously two very different easies," she sniffs at him, rubbing her foot with her hand. “That hurt. Like my foot doesn’t feel sore enough?”
"I was just--" He gestures helplessly at John, like this is somehow his fault. "I just did what he did."
John snorts. "Obviously not. Yours is 'Terminator' easy. Totally different from what I'm doing and what she needs."
Ava nods at him. "Yes. Yes. Exactly." She pushes herself to a sitting position, leans forward as best as she can, and places a hand on Bucky's thigh. "Now I love you, Buck. I will die for you. But I will kill you first before I let you anywhere near my foot ever again."
Bucky crosses his arms. "That's excessive."
"Your hands are bloody excessive."
"John and I are literally both super soldiers," he argues. "How are his hands better? And don't," he cuts in before John can speak, "say they're magic."
John closes his mouth.
Before opening it again to say, "Let's just say I learned things the hard way. From experience, basically."
He didn't have to say his ex-wife's name, but it hung among them anyway.
John rubs the back of his neck. "Had to learn how to give proper massages or else I'd be sleeping on the couch for weeks at a time. And, well, I've never been a fan of couches, so."
Ava looks at him in some surprise; John doesn’t talk a lot about his failed marriage, after all. "Seems like Olivia ran a tight ship," she comments.
"I'd say you're way worse than her," he says with a slight smile. "At least my ex didn't threaten murder with every little inconvenience."
"Then she missed out," Ava replies easily.
John chuckles.
Meanwhile, Bucky's still feeling a bit put off.
Ava eventually notices.
"James," she says, taking his hand and squeezing it. "I appreciate you trying, I really do. But maybe you can outsource foot massages to John?"
"I can learn," he insists stubbornly. "I promise I won't crush your foot again. Just... just let me try a second time."
Bucky sees her internally wage a battle.
Then she softens around the edges and sighs, “Fine. Though maybe John here can give you tips or something. He’s a certified foot guy. Probably why he’s named ‘Walker’ in the first place.”
John glares at her. “That joke got really old, really fast after the first fifty times you said it to my face.”
“And yet,” Ava says, “I’m going to keep saying it anyway.”
“Asshole.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She points at Bucky. “Give the old man pointers, John.”
Despite his obvious annoyance, John does lean forward to look at Bucky.
“You know,” he starts, tone filled with confidence, “handling Ava requires finesse, Barnes. Subtlety. Unfortunately, your Tin Man hands–”
“Nope,” Bucky says, moving up to his feet now, feeling indignation in his blood. “I refuse to hear this about her. Not from you.”
John shrugs and leans back on the couch. “Suit yourself.”
Silence.
Then Ava sighs.
And Bucky looks at her. Sees the way her movements seem a bit more sluggish now than how he left her. The dark circles around her eyes because insomnia plus discomfort from pregnancy means she’s sleeping even less than before.
And if foot massages are the only thing bringing her comfort now–
“Fine,” he says, taking the spot before her again and carefully reaching for her right foot. “Fine. Tell me what I should do.”
John and Ava exchange glances.
She shrugs.
And John takes that as a sign to say, “Okay, so, first things first–”
In the next few minutes, John actually coaches Bucky on how to ‘properly’ give Ava a massage.
“Use way, way less pressure than you think you’re applying. You’re massaging her foot, not interrogating it.”
Bucky follows without comment.
And for the first time since he’s taken her foot, Ava visibly relaxes on the couch.
“There you go,” John tells him. “In your case, use the heel of your palm more than your thumbs. Then just move them in slow, even circles until Ava’s practically putty in your hands.”
“I already am, by the way,” she says softly, grinning shamelessly now, “even without the massages.”
Bucky looks up at her and smirks.
John, meanwhile, looks vaguely ill. “Okay, so another pointer: maybe mind the third person in the room before you two start having eye sex.”
Bucky laughs.
After a few more seconds, Ava sighs again - but more happy than wary, this time. “That is so much better now, Buck. You’re a fast learner.”
“Yeah?” he asks, feeling ridiculously proud of this small feat.
“Yeah.” He moves his palm in a small, careful circle - just like John said - and Ava hisses out, “Yes. God.”
John glances between them and stands. “Well,” he says. “My job here is done.” To Ava, he says, “You can just Venmo me the hundred bucks. And I expect the earphones in my room tomorrow.”
“Mm.” Ava nods, closing her eyes now. “Sure. Whatever. Now get out.”
He moves to leave the common room.
Except Bucky calls out, “John.”
He turns.
And Bucky tells him, quietly, “Thank you.”
John raises a brow at him.
But instead of saying something stupid or smartass, he just shrugs and says, “Not a problem.”
Then he leaves the room.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, Bucky thinks, yeah.
Good thing we went for the arm, not the neck.