Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve

Steve sat on his sofa drumming his fingers against his jean clad thigh. Across the room the TV was on, a tall man wearing an ill fitting suit was gesturing at a color coded map of the five boroughs talking about the weather. They were in for another week of cold, wind, and rain. 

“Welcome to fall in New York,” Steve thought. 

He then lifted his wrist to check the time. According to Agent Morse, one of the many assigned to assist in his acclimation process, few people outside of the military wore watches anymore. Steve also had a top of the line cell phone but had been a soldier longer than he’d been anything else and only retired a week. Every morning he tried to leave it on his dresser but his arm felt too naked without it. 

Nine minutes. 

Needing to do something with his hands, Steve made his way to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. The caffeine had no effect on him thanks to the serum but he had memories of being comforted by a warm drink and it was good manners to offer guests a beverage when they visited. 

“They aren’t a guest,” Steve’s brain reminded him. He had very little information about his assigned soldier. He knew the basics like name, James B. Barnes, age 28 and that he was honorably discharged.  That was it. 

Steve stood in his kitchen and frowned while the coffee brewed. He had never been good at lying, not even to himself.

He had access to every detail of James B. Barnes’ life courtesy of the United States Government. There was a sealed packet provided by SHIELD for him to read that was likely filled with very intimate secrets about James Barnes’ life but Steve couldn’t bring himself to break the seal. There was something unsavory about learning someone’s secrets without their knowledge or permission. If it wasn’t a matter of life or death then he didn’t need to know. 

 Steve blew out a long breath and tried not to lose time focusing on the myriad of what ifs. As long as  Barnes was a good person then he was going to help them. That was the mission. Help this soldier, whomever they were, find their way in the world, help them build a good life.

 A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that this was supposed to be a two-way partnership and that Steve was also supposed to be helped to build a new life but he told that voice to pipe down. He had made his bed a long time ago when he signed up for Project Rebirth and while he hadn't realized how lonely and hard the road he'd chosen would be he knew it had been the right one.  

He was on borrowed time in this new world and he was going to do his best to be of use while he could.

Five minutes. 

Groaning at himself, his growing melancholy, and the odd situation he had found himself in, Steve considered rereading the orientation packet he’d been given by the Department of Compatibility and Co-habitation or DCC about the Partner Project. It had arrived three days prior in a priority envelope delivered by a star struck junior agent named Kamala Khan.She’d spent nearly six minutes fangirling on his doorstep before she remembered that she was supposed to be delivering something. 

It had taken another three minutes of apologies, a hug and a selfie before the young woman completed her task and left. 

Bringing his mind back to the present Steve resisted the impulse to reread the packet because one, he only had a couple of minutes before his assigned partner was to arrive and it would look bad if James showed up and found Steve reviewing the orientation packet like it was battle plans and two, his eidetic memory made rereading pointless. Steve knew everything there was to know on those 86 pages. The Successful Military to Civilian Transition Project, more commonly called Project Buddy System, was developed in 1964, almost exactly twenty years after Steve went into the ice. 

It was designed to help soldiers leaving the service acclimate back into civilian life by giving them a partner. Studies had found that soldiers who  came home without loved ones or families to come home to, often struggled with loneliness, lack of purpose, and higher rates of suicide. To combat those struggles the project paired compatible soldiers together like a buddy system. The idea was that at the very least, each returning soldier would have a friend to lean on as they made their way in their new lives. 

There was an extensive survey new military cadets filled out when they joined and it was used when they left the service if they had need of the program. The questions covered everything from age, place of birth, and gender to things like allergies, religious affiliations and even hobbies.

 Compatible ‘partners’ were assigned to one another with a minimum commitment of one year. Participants didn’t have to live together, though many did, but they needed to be in regular contact with one another and their case manager. This was necessary to ensure that participants were safe and supported while offering stability and access to resources such as the VA and counseling. 

Steve had heard about the project during his intensive “welcome to the twenty first century” debrief and it had made something in his heart twist. He was glad people were doing so much for those who served, it was amazing that folks cared enough to help others make connections and not go through life alone but he also felt even more out of place. He was a twenty-seven year old walking, talking science experiment with seventy years of catching up to do. 

 Who the hell could be compatible with that?

He’d kept all of that to himself of course and instead donated a chunk of his retroactive pay to the project. Even if it couldn’t help him, it was a worthy cause and he wanted to help. Then nine days after learning of the program he was contacted by Agent “Seriously Steve, call me Bobbi” Morse  who informed him that he had been assigned a partner. Most of the conversation had passed through Steve’s ears unheard as he wrestled with an immense wave of shock. 

Luckily his battle ready mind managed to answer the young woman’s questions coherently, including agreeing to a trial run of being roommates with whomever he’d been assigned to. 

That had been two weeks ago. 

Steve glanced at his watch, his not guest was four minutes late. 

It’s fine, he told himself. No need to worry just yet. 

Heaving a sigh Steve returned to his couch, coffee in hand, ready to resume pretending to watch the morning news while he waited. 

Halfway to his seat, Steve heard a knock at his apartment door.

Setting his mug down on the kitchen island, Steve wiped his sweaty palms on his pants then race walked to the door and pulled it open. 

As usual Steve pulled too hard and the door swung open wildly creating a breeze that ruffled his hair and startled the man standing on the front steps. 

“Holy shit,” the man said, his pale eyes wide. 

“Sorry,” Steve said, “I keep forgetting how light they make these things now.”

They stood there for a moment silently blinking at one another before Steve’s brain slowed down enough to connect with his body. Sometimes it was hard not to be three steps ahead of the present at all times. The serum made him feel like a race car idling at the best of times, when he was stressed it put everything into overdrive and sometimes his brain had his body moving before his thoughts had fully sunk in or his mind would go so fast that his body struggled to keep up. It was a unique problem that Steve usually had a good handle on, except lately when there were so many new things to process that his control sometimes slipped. 

Rattled but determined to rally, he took a slow breath in and out then stepped back to allow the other man to enter the house. The young man was still looking surprised but there was something else there, a sympathetic smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. 

“So you’re really him, huh?” the man asked, his gaze trained on Steve’s face as he walked into the entryway, “Fucking Captain America.”

“I don’t think my official title had the word fucking in it,” Steve said dryly, “At any rate, I’m retired. Call me Steve.”

The man laughed, his pale blue eyes crinkling in the corners and his cheeks pinking a little. Steve smiled, relieved that his sense of humor hadn’t landed flat the way it often had when he was being monitored at SHIELD. 

“James Barnes,” the man said, holding out his prosthetic hand for Steve to shake, “But I prefer Bucky if you don’t mind.”

There was a story there, it was clear in the way his smile had sharpened, a challenge to see if Steve would balk at the cool metal or inundate him with a dozen personal questions.

Curious as he was about both the prosthetic and the unusual nickname, Steve knew better than to rise to the bait. So he shook the man’s hand with a smile then gestured further into the house.

Bucky

Captain America was nothing like Bucky expected. 

The day Bucky was released from the rehabilitation center, the transportation desk in the lobby was closed. Of course the first day in over a year that Bucky was allowed to go somewhere unchaperoned, was the first day he had to be somewhere on time and there was no one around to help. 

So he took the train, which was running late as usual . 

Eventually after riding the train, running three blocks, and nearly hurling in an alley from nervousness, Bucky made it to an unassuming brownstone in Brooklyn. 

It looked like every other row house on the block. Earthy brown brick that looked warm despite the gloomy weather and tall windows on each floor. The front was well kept, black iron railings on either side of a recently swept staircase leading up to a dark brown door. It was unassuming and classic. No one from the neighborhood would give it a second glance.

Do people even know that an actual legend from history lives here? Bucky thought as he climbed the stairs. 

He’d arrived shortly before nine am.

He took a few minutes at the top of the stairs to give himself a good pep talk about not being a huge chicken then knocked on the door. Almost instantly he faced the best looking man he’d ever seen.

Tall with broad shoulders, a trim waist and a jawline strong enough to lead a nation into battle, Steve Rogers was everything Bucky remembered from his high school text books and more. His blonde hair was styled in a fairly modern cut, shorn tight on the sides and left longer on top. His clothes were simple but modern as well, a plain black long sleeve tee that did amazing things for his chest and biceps paired with jeans.  

The first thing that Bucky noticed, after he mentally slapped himself for ogling the world’s greatest soldier, was that Cap seemed…nervous. They stared at each other for a few minutes before Steve seemed to remember that he had to let Bucky into the house which he finally did with all the finesse of a tour guide giving his first tour.

He’d smiled at Bucky and shook the Hand without hesitation. This allowed some of the tension to ease in Bucky’s chest because the Arm was the first thing folks tended to notice about him since he’d returned stateside and the reactions were often unpleasant if not downright hostile. He’d taken to hiding it entirely when he was out in public. 

When Agent Barton had told him that they had signed him up for Project Buddy System, he’d been dismissive. The program sounded great, soldiers who couldn’t go home or who didn’t have a home to go home to, were given someone in a similar position to pair up with and figure shit out with. It sounded too good to be true especially for a walking disaster like Bucky. 

He’d filled out the forms, the ones he had submitted at the beginning of his service were no longer useful. In fact, as Bucky had read them over while sitting through one of his routine psych exams, the person on those pages didn’t even feel like him. He suddenly had new triggers, food preferences, and sleep routines. There were meds to account for and therapy appointments along with severe dislikes to certain forms of touch, topics of conversation and a fear of extreme cold that he wasn’t sure he’d ever shake. 

Still, a small piece of his heart had hoped that he wouldn’t have to face the world alone and after weeks of waiting and hoping and dismaying a match had been found. 

He’d teared up a little in his hospital room when they handed him his orientation packet. Then he saw who he had been assigned to and felt his stomach drop to his knees. 

It was all a big fucking joke. Captain America. Steve “I saved the whole damn world then died heroically” Rogers.  It was impossible, the greatest soldier who had ever lived had died in the forties. For days Bucky was angry and devastated by what had appeared to be a cruel joke pulled at his expense. Then he saw the news, Steve Rogers was alive and doing an interview with the President on tv. 

Bucky suddenly began to despair for a whole different set of reasons. How could he possibly show up broken and crazy on Captain America’s doorstep? Was this some sort of goodwill mission? Would Bucky have to go on tv? 

Agent Barton had to spend hours talking Bucky down from quitting the program. It seemed Captain Rogers was retired and looking to integrate himself into civilian life just the same as Bucky. They both had complicated service records and enhanced abilities that made them uniquely suited to being partners in the program.

“Just give him a chance, Buck.” Clint had said, “He doesn’t know anybody anymore, he probably could use a friend.”

Bucky was reminded of that conversation as he followed a rambling Steve through the house. His long legs set a quick pace and Bucky felt like he was going to need to break into a jog just to keep up. Finally he interrupted his host’s overly detailed description of where everything was located in the kitchen.

“You pick this place out yourself?” Bucky asked.

Steve paused and blinked, the question clearly unexpected. In the silence he blushed a little then swiped his broad palm across his face. 

“Sorry,” he said, “I’m not used to visitors.”

Bucky felt the urge to hug the larger man but since that would be super weird and wildly inappropriate he tightened his grip on his duffel bag. 

“S’alright. I’m only used to SHIELD agents and doctors.” he said.

Bucky played it as a joke but he knew himself enough to know it was another test. If he was going to live with someone they were going to eventually learn how fucked up he was, no matter how much he hoped he could hide it. Better to know now if Steve could handle it before he got comfortable.  

Steve laughed. 

“You and I both,” Rogers said. 

Another point in Steve’s favor.

“C’mon,” he said, “I’ll show you your room so you can put down your stuff.”

“Lead the way Cap.”

The taller man turned and gave Bucky an almost pleading look “Please, call me Steve.”

They made their way up to the second floor and after passing their shared bathroom, they entered a medium sized bedroom with cream colored walls and sage green gingham bedding. It looked cozy and clean without the bland sterility that had permeated both the hospital and SHIELD facility he had been staying in. 

“I’ll let you get settled in,” Steve said with a small smile, “I’ll be downstairs making lunch, holler if you need me.”

“Thanks Steve,” Bucky said. 

Steve looked at him for a moment and Bucky panicked. It felt like he was peering into Bucky’s soul and he was terrified of what Steve might find. But instead of turning away in disgust he slowly reached out and gave Bucky’s flesh and blood shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 

“Of course,” he said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Then he left Bucky alone. Almost instantly he wanted to call the other man back, the room felt too big without his warm, solid presence. 

Shaking off the feeling and chalking it up to nerves and exhaustion, Bucky got to work unpacking his meager belongings.

Chapter Text

Steve

The sun wasn’t yet over the horizon when Steve woke up but that was normal. Ever since getting the serum, his body needed less sleep and he’d learned to just follow its rhythm instead of forcing himself to lie in bed for the full recommended eight hours. 

He used the bathroom and made sure to walk softly past Bucky’s door on the way back to his bedroom. 

Morning runs had become a part of his routine ever since coming out of the ice. He supposed he didn’t need to train any more since he was officially retired but running helped clear his head along with burning off the excess energy that seemed to constantly be thrumming under his skin. 

After changing into a compression shirt and running shorts, he pulled on socks and grabbed his running shoes from his closet. It would be quieter to put them downstairs, he didn’t want to risk waking Bucky if he wasn’t a morning person. 

Skipping the third and fourth stair down by hopping over them (they squeaked) Steve made his way to the ground floor of the house and crept into the kitchen for a bottle of water and a banana. 

The living room tv was on with the volume on its lowest setting, a program Steve didn’t recognize was showing how crayons were made. Bucky was half sitting half lying on the sofa facing the tv, his eyes barely open, long brown hair hanging over his brow obscuring half his face.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Steve asked softly.

Bucky startled at the sound of his voice and dragged himself up into a sitting position. 

“Did I wake you?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head and moved closer to where Bucky was sitting. “Nah,” he said, “I wake up at the same time every morning. I didn’t even know you were up until I saw you just now.”

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair pushing it back off his face then rubbed at his tired eyes for a moment.  “What time is it?”

Steve looked down at his watch “Quarter after five,” he said, “Look, I am gonna go on my run but I should be back before breakfast if you want to eat before our appointments.”

Bucky blinked at him for a moment and Steve wondered if he needed to repeat himself but then Bucky spoke, “Running? Why?” 

Steve chuckled at the disgusted look on his roommate’s face. 

“It’s good for you,” Steve teased, “I can wait for you if you’d like to join me.”

“Steve you seem like a good guy so please don’t take this too personally but I would rather die.”

Steve laughed again then put on his shoes and grabbed his pre-run snack. 

“Alright you slug,” he said, “Take a nap and I’ll wake you when I get back. We gotta be downtown by eleven.”

Bucky gave the laziest salute possible before flopping back onto the sofa and shutting his eyes. 

Steve grabbed his phone and keys to help himself resist the urge to toss a blanket over the other man, with a final wave that he wasn’t sure Bucky even saw, he let himself out into the predawn morning.

Bucky 

Nights were the worst. It was always too quiet, especially in a nice neighborhood like Brooklyn Heights. Quiet made it easy to think and thinking meant remembering. Memory was a fickle thing, Bucky had learned. Emotions like pain and fear were easier to recall than softer things like peace or contentment. 

His time with Hydra hadn’t been long but it had been brutal, each day a new lesson in cruelty. First inflicted against him and then, after they had broken him, inflicted by others by him. 

Guilt cramped his stomach until it had him racing to the bathroom then after he’d emptied his stomach of its meager contents, he laid his head on the cool tile for a few moments. 

At least I didn’t wake screaming this time. Bucky thought. 

Exhausted but unable to go back to sleep he tiptoed downstairs looking for a distraction. 

Steve’s living room was furnished for comfort with large plush couches, plenty of pillows and fully stocked bookshelves spaced between the large bay windows. Too tired to explore the selection, Bucky snagged an afghan from the basket in the corner and plopped down onto one of the couches, ready to zone out in front of the large flat screen on the wall. 

Time passed slowly, episodes of How It’s Made played in a soothing blur while Bucky floated between awake and dreaming. The comfortable haze was broken by the sound of footsteps and Bucky felt his senses sharpen as adrenaline flooded his system. 

On the heels of his initial panic came the memories of the day before, he wasn’t the Soldier anymore, he wasn’t at the Facility either. He was in Brooklyn with Captain America. He was supposed to be getting better. 

I choose calm. He told himself. I am safe and secure. There is no danger. I am free.

He repeated the mantras over and over to himself as he listened to Steve move around the apartment. Finally he came downstairs and Bucky faked being asleep so he could avoid the embarrassment of explaining his current sweaty and sleepy state. Unfortunately Steve was an observant motherfucker and saw through his ruse easily. 

He gave Bucky shit for not wanting to run but it was friendly teasing with no real judgment behind it. Bucky however couldn’t stop himself from expressing his disgust for Steve’s choice of early morning activities though it did provide Bucky with the sight of Steve in a compression shirt and shorts which was really nice not that he said anything about it. 

After teasing Steve a little and getting not quite orders to be up for breakfast before they went to SHIELD HQ, Bucky flicked a salute at the Captain then closed his eyes to avoid watching that toned ass leave the house. 

Why does he have to be so hot? Bucky wondered aloud after he was sure Steve was gone. 

Attractive people weren’t normally an issue for Bucky, he appreciated a pretty face but it wasn’t a motivator for him, pretty didn’t always last but personality did.  Bucky hadn’t even been in Captain America’s presence for a whole day and yet he knew one thing for sure, Steve Rogers  wasn’t just hot. He was also incredibly earnest and sweet. 

I’m so fucked.

Steve

Steve kept his run to an hour, the twenty six miles falling away easily under his feet. It was Wednesday which meant it was a therapy day and he also had his first check in with Agent Morse about the Buddy System Project now that Bucky had arrived. 

As he finished his cool down his mind moved to the little notebook he carried with him that contained all of the suggestions and references everyone had thrown his way. Making lists was a habit he’d picked up from his mom, a simple way to make big things seem more manageable. 

He wrote in the notebook daily either adding to the things to research or marking off what he’d accomplished. 

Dr. Raynor told him that he needed to experience things and not just do them. She’d made some notes of her own on her clipboard when he’d asked her what the difference was.

Annoyed but determined he jogged up the stairs to his brownstone and let himself in. 

Bucky was in the same place he’d left him in but showered and marginally more awake. He had pulled on a long-sleeve red shirt, a dark hoodie and dark jeans.  His long hair was loose and slightly wavy around his handsome face. He noticed Steve staring and quirked an eyebrow at him which caused Steve’s ears to heat so he looked away.

“Get any sleep?” Steve asked as he removed his shoes.

Barnes gave a noncommittal shrug but pointed over his shoulder towards the kitchen to indicate that he had made coffee. Steve smiled. 

“Smells good,” Steve said, “I’m gonna grab a quick shower then we can figure out how we wanna proceed.”

Bucky chuckled and Steve stopped short. “What?” he asked.

“Nothin’ Cap,” Bucky said, “I’ll be ready with sitrep when you return.”

Steve felt himself blush. Before he had downed the Valkyrie he’d been leading the Howling Commandos on covert ops and before that was USO tour and training camp. Majority of his adult life was planning and executing missions and it was hard to stop thinking in terms of battle plans or debriefings. 

He opened his mouth to try to explain but Bucky held up a hand. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, “Go take your shower.”

Steve gave a grateful nod and jogged up the stairs, his face still burning. 

****

Breakfast was bacon egg n cheese sandwiches from a local deli that they ate while walking to the train station. Steve didn’t have a car and Bucky didn’t have a helmet so they couldn’t take Steve’s motorcycle until they got him one so they had to take the train. 

SHIELD headquarters were hidden in a building designed as a media company in the center of Times Square. Bucky was quickly learning that SHIELD was both everywhere and nowhere all the time. He hadn’t yet decided if it was unsettling or reassuring so he tried not to think about it too much. 

Agent Klein was working the desk in the lobby, he was one of the few agents who had actually tried to talk to Bucky when he was first brought in after his escape from Hydra and Bucky remembered his kind, if young, face. 

“Sergeant Barnes,” Agent Klein called out, “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You can just call me Bucky, Cameron.” Bucky said, “It’s nice to see you too.”

Cameron was grinning though he immediately stopped and sat up straighter when he saw who Bucky was with. 

Steve was standing behind Bucky on his left and doing everything he could to make his large frame smaller and less noticeable. His blonde hair had fallen onto his forehead a bit and his sunglasses covered those trademark baby blues but it was obvious who he was. 

SHIELD had been started by people who believed in Steve Rogers, in Captain America and the example he had set. There was no way he was getting anything but the VIP treatment. 

“Good Morning Captain Rogers,” Cameron said formally. 

“Please, call me Steve,” Steve said for what seemed like the hundredth time. 

“Oh! I mean, of course, sir.” Cameron stammered.

Bucky hid a sympathetic grin behind a fake cough then walked through the security scanners when it was his turn. The screen pinged the arm just as it always did and he rolled his eyes. Steve also went through the scanner despite being told it wasn’t necessary. 

“I’m a civilian these days,” Steve told Klein, “Don’t let the stars in your eyes keep you from doing your job.”

Chastised, Klein nodded then gave them both their visitor badges and sent them on their way to the bank of elevators across the vast lobby. 

“Little hard on him weren’t you?” Bucky asked. 

“SHIELD does dangerous work and letting your guard down can be a death sentence,” Steve said, eyes focused forward and not on Bucky, “Better that he loses the hero worship and lives.”

They rode in silence up to the thirty fifth floor where Agents Morse and Barton were waiting for them. 

The two agents were sitting on a sofa engaged in a heated game of tic tac toe when Bucky and Steve arrived and Bucky caught himself smiling. 

“Careful,” Bucky said, “He cheats.”

Agent Morse laughed then made her move stealing the win and flicked Clint in the nose for good measure. 

“Oh I know,” Bobbi said as she stood to greet him and Steve, “We were married once upon a time.”

Bucky felt his eyes go wide and Clint ducked his head scratching at the fine hairs at this nape. 

“Aw Bobbi…” he said, clearly embarrassed.

“Oh hush,” She said, still smiling, “Old news. Hi Steve.”

Bobbi moved past Bucky and was greeted with a genuine grin and bear hug by the super soldier. Bucky found himself surprised by the pang of jealousy the sight of them caused. 

Get it together . Bucky told himself. You don’t even know him, it’s not wise to get this attached.

“How’re you doing,” Steve asked after he let her go, “You changed your hair.”

She ruffled her fingers through the long dark locks and smiled. “I’m good and this is just temporary. I’ve gotta go out of town a few days.”

Steve nodded as if he understood then stepped to the side a little so that she could see Bucky better. “This is Bucky Barnes,” he said, “I’m not sure if you’ve met.”

Bucky smiled and shook the pretty agent’s hand though his mind was on the way Steve’s hand had landed on his shoulder as he’d made introductions. The warm weight was grounding and if he was honest, he liked the fact that it brought Steve closer to him.  

On the heels of that thought was yet another twinge of concern about how much Steve was affecting his emotions after so little time together. He was like a schoolgirl with a crush and it was making him nuts. 

It will pass. He told himself. Just be cool and don’t make it weird.

The four of them stood around making introductions and complaining about the weather for a few moments before Director Fury appeared looking stern.

“Right,” Bobbi said, “So Clint and I will be out of office for a little bit. Doctor Raynor knows you both and will take over as your Buddy System point of contact until we return. Any questions?”

“Does it have to be Doctor Raynor?” Bucky mumbled. 

Steve let out a startled laugh that was too loud and drew the Director’s attention. 

“Christina Raynor is a trained professional and unless you can find someone more qualified, I suggest you comply, Sergeant.” 

Bucky felt himself go rigid at the command for compliance. Hydra operated on a system of violence and control that broke you down then forced you to do their bidding in order to avoid more abuse. Comply had been the code word, the key to locking down Bucky’s humanity and unleashing the Soldier. 

Fury likely hadn’t intended to trigger Bucky’s trauma but it had happened regardless. The room suddenly felt too small, too cold, and Bucky felt himself tremble a little as he struggled to stay present. 

 Instead of lashing out, he bit his cheek then he dipped his chin in acknowledgment. When Fury nodded back Bucky turned away to start walking down the hall to the therapist’s office. Steve followed close at his heels. 

“He only defended her because he doesn’t have to attend her sessions,” Steve said quietly.

It was clear that he was trying to cheer Bucky up and he appreciated it but he was barely holding onto his sanity. 

“Buck?” Steve asked when Bucky didn’t respond, “You okay?”

He gripped Bucky’s flesh and blood bicep, stalling his footsteps and moved to step in front of the shorter man to get his attention. Bucky pulled away sharply and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Don’t.” he said. 

The two men were frozen staring at one another when Doctor Raynor opened her door.

Chapter Text

Steve

Bucky was called into the office first leaving Steve sitting in one of the uncomfortable straight-back chairs sifting through the last ten minutes. Bucky had seemed fine in the elevator, quiet after Steve’s exchange with Klein but not hostile. 

Steve replayed his words to Klein feeling a little guilty at the terse tone he took with the kid. He hadn’t meant to upset anyone but it was hard at times. Everyone looked at him and saw Captain America, the war hero, the man with the plan, they rarely saw him . He didn’t regret his decision to join Project Rebirth, didn’t regret his service or his choice to down the Valkyrie but sometimes, he just wanted to be Steve. 

He made a mental note to try to make things right with Cameron then turned his attention back to Bucky. The change in his demeanor seemed almost instant like a flip had been switched. Steve leaned back, his head thumping against the wall as he wracked his brain for what he did, how he could fix it. 

Bucky

The low gray couch in the therapist’s office was stiff and Bucky found himself slouching trying to find a position that was comfortable. Across the room Dr. Raynor sat in an office chair with a clipboard resting on her lap.

“You want to tell me what that was about,” Dr. Raynor asks, “Or should we start with you lying to me about the ongoing nightmares?”

Bucky clenched his jaw and looked to his left at the curtained windows. For nine months he has been seeing Dr. Christina Raynor at least twice a week. When he was cleared to leave the facility they told him that it would be bumped down to only once a week barring any “incidents”. 

The early sessions had been agonizing. A former soldier herself, Raynor was relentless and impatient, preferring to needle Bucky to get him to talk instead of joining him in his stubborn silence. 

It had taken weeks before he had told her anything that wasn’t in his file, and while she had acknowledged his effort to “do the work” she hadn’t gotten any nicer. 

“You’re a terrible therapist,” Bucky says, finally meeting her gaze with his own. 

She’s unfazed, offering him a shrug “Yeah, OK, maybe. But I was a great soldier.”

Bucky nods. She’s not the cuddly type but she’s honest. He can work with that. 

“Fury told me to comply,” he said. His fingers curled into fists in his lap. 

I choose calm.

“You were triggered,” Raynor said.

“The words don’t have control over me anymore,” he said “I am no longer the Winter Soldier.”

She wrote something down on her pad. “You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m still not sleeping,” he countered.

“The offer for medication still stands.” 

Bucky shook his head. He’d had enough of being drugged to last several lifetimes. 

“Fine,” she said, “Let’s talk coping strategies.”

Steve

Bucky came out of the room looking calmer but he kept his distance, choosing a chair on the opposite side of the waiting area, a half empty bottle of water passing back and forth between his hands. 

Steve tried to catch his eye, offer a reassuring smile but Bucky was clearly lost in his own thoughts. 

Dr. Raynor came into the doorway and gestured for him to join her. 

Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out his small notebook and walked into the room.

“Last week we talked about experiences.” She started, wasting no time on pleasantries, “I see you have your lists, tell me about how you did.”

Steve resisted the urge to open the notebook, to read off all the books he read and shows he watched. She was baiting him, seeing if he was willing to change or if she needed to keep applying pressure. 

“I got a roommate,” he said, “it’s only been twenty-four hours but it’s the first time I have lived under the same roof with someone since ma died.”

Raynor had been a soldier once, Steve had looked into her a bit when he’d been assigned to her caseload. He’d needed to be sure that her motives were as straightforward as she’d claimed. So far they were. Her reflexes were good, her resting expression direct but not aggressive, still Steve caught the surprised lift of her eyebrows. 

They talked for several minutes about the challenges that come with living with a stranger. There were logistics to consider such as sharing household duties and paying bills. Not to mention accommodating another person's moods and preferences. These were all things that Steve had considered when he learned he'd been signed up for the Buddy Project and he told Raynor as much. She argued that he was ignoring reality, that he had a "savior complex". 

"You think I should live alone then?" he challenged, "I thought the goal was to get me out into the world."

She narrowed her eyes at him. 

"I want you to stop jumping blindly into situations and think about your own safety for once."

Steve threw up his hands. Counter arguments lined themselves up in his mind, justifications for his actions sat ready at the tip of his tongue but he held them back. Her first session with him she'd labeled him stubborn, self-righteous, and argumentative. He was determined to prove that he didn’t always need to fight. 

After a few moments of weighted silence Raynor gave in and changed tactics. 

“James has faced some unique and harrowing challenges,” Raynor said.

“Bucky,” Steve corrected.

For the second time in ten minutes Raynor looked surprised. “What?”

“He told me he prefers Bucky.”

“Alright,” she said, “Bucky has a lot of trauma to work through as do you. Is it really wise to invite someone like that into your life so soon after-”

She trailed off. Steve wasn’t surprised, no one really knew how to talk about what had happened. The war, the crash, the seventy years lost to the ice. A New York City paper had run a story about how he’d downed the Valkyrie as a suicide attempt. Choosing to die to be with Peggy who’d been killed in action. 

It was immediately picked up by the national news, people loved a doomed love story. Steve had accidentally made the situation worse when he’d revealed that he and Peggy had never been romantic. Instead their relationship had been fabricated as a way to humanize Captain America and drum up money for the war effort selling serials and such of his “heroic adventures”. 

The whole thing had made Steve uneasy at the best of times though Peggy and her secret wife, Angie had found it highly entertaining. 

“The Successful Military to Civilian Transition Project is a worthy cause,” Steve said, aware that his tone was creeping into Captain America territory, “Bucky deserves a chance at a normal life.”

“We weren’t talking about Bucky,” Raynor argued, “We’re talking about you.”

Steve refrained from pointing out that she was the one who had brought up Bucky and instead inclined his head conceding the point. 

“Fine,” he said, “You’re worried about what? That I can’t handle myself? That he’ll hurt me?”

“That you will put your life on pause for someone else’s cause.” She said, “Again.”

Damn it . Steve thought. 

He blew out a hard breath. “You told me to experience things,” he reminded her, “Maybe that also means making mistakes.” 

He didn’t think helping Bucky was a mistake, he couldn’t. Sitting one more moment in that office felt like one though so he stood. 

“Captain Rogers-”

“Steve.” he said, tiredly. 

“Steve,” she amended, “We still have twelve minutes.”

He looked at his watch then made his way to the door. “Got any homework for me this week?” He asked.

Raynor sounded just as tired. “Find a hobby.”

“I run every morning.”

“Of course you do. Find a hobby Steve. Do something fun. ”

“I’ll see you next week.”

Bucky

Raynor given him a lot to think about and suggested journaling to help Bucky track his progress and his triggers. He’d never been much for writing, but the alternative was going back to two sessions a week so he agreed to try. 

Steve came out of the session room with an annoyed look on his face though he did offer Bucky a smile when he saw him. 

“You waited?” Steve asked. 

Bucky sat up straighter in surprise “Yeah of course,” he said, “We came together, we leave together.”

Steve’s smile grew into a full show stopping grin. 

“Wanna get lunch?” Steve asked.

“Not here?” Bucky asked as he rose to his feet.

“Definitely not,” Steve said. 

“Perfect, let’s go.”

They wasted no time getting to the elevators and down to the lobby. Steve was running through the list of nearby restaurants on his phone while Bucky scoped out the SHIELD agents bustling about. There had been something weird about Director Fury showing up just to basically tell Clint and Bobbi to get back to work, it was such a menial task for such a busy man that there had to be more to it. Bucky just had to work out what it was.

Steve bumped his hip against Bucky’s side pulling him out of his thoughts. 

“Burgers, noodles, pizza?” Steve asked. 

“Noodles as in pasta?” Bucky asked.

“No. uhh,” Steve double checked his phone, “Ramen.”

“Sounds good.”

They left HQ and the noise of Times Square was overwhelming. Bucky found himself walking a little closer to Steve than was strictly necessary but the man knew how to cut through a crowd which Bucky deeply appreciated. 

Steve had produced a ballcap from somewhere and pulled it on, combined with his sunglasses it was easy to pass him by without recognizing him. 

“You do a decent Clark Kent,” Bucky said as they exited the touristy area for a less trafficked street. 

“Who?” Steve asked. 

“Clark Kent. You know, Superman’s alter ego.”  

Bucky was couldn’t believe it, he knew Steve had missed out on a lot during his time under the ice but Superman was so common that grade school kids knew who he was. 

“I’m not sure I’m familiar,” Steve said. 

Bucky made to step off the curb to cross the street but Steve placed his hand at the small of Bucky’s back steering him to take a right instead. 

“Steve,” Bucky said, desperate to not fixate on the lingering warmth from Steve’s wide palm on his back, “Superman comics are everywhere. Are you sure you’ve never heard the story? Alien sent to earth, raised on a farm, fights bad guys in a ridiculous outfit…”

Steve shrugged and held the door open for Bucky letting him enter the restaurant first. The air was warmer inside and smelled of rich broth and fresh noodles. A waiter led them to a booth near the back and the two men settled into their seats with matching smiles. 

“We’re gonna have to go to a book store or something after this,” Bucky said desperately, “I can’t believe you don’t know who Superman is.”

Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He removed his hat and sunglasses with a chuckle. Their waiter handed them menus and glasses of water before giving them time to decide. 

“Bucky, I’m just fucking with you,” he said, “Action Comics number one came out April 18th of 1938. I know who Superman is.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped in surprise and then he laughed. “You fuckin’ punk!” he said, swatting Steve’s forearm with his flesh and blood hand. “You really had me going.”

Steve picked up his menu while still chuckling. “I’m old but not completely hopeless Buck,” he said. “You just gotta give me a chance.”

Bucky smiled back though his smile was a little less bright. “Speaking of which, about earlier.”

Steve put down his menu and gave Bucky his full attention. “I didn’t want to ask but- well I’m sorry for whatever I did. If you could let me know what it was I can work on it or-”

Bucky was quick to stop Steve mid-apology. “Steve no,” he said, “It wasn’t you. Or-well it wasn’t just you.”

He was pretty sure that detailing his capture and subsequent brainwashing at the hands of Hydra was too intense for lunch conversation so he tried to give his new roommate an explanation that made sense without trauma dumping.

“I went through some shit,” he said, “When I served. An extended stint in captivity and they were big on psychological manipulation. Sometimes, words aren’t just words, they're like landmines in my brain.”

Steve reached across the table and held Bucky’s hands in his own. Bucky flinched internally at how fast Steve moved but didn’t pull away especially when he saw that Steve didn’t treat the bionic hand any differently than Bucky’s real hand. 

“Thank you for telling me, Buck,” Steve said, “If there is anyway you can get me a list I’ll make sure to commit it to memory.”

“It was Fury,” Bucky continued as if Steve hadn’t spoken, “When he told me to comply. That was their whole philosophy. Break people down to ensure they submit. Continue to employ violence and torture to maintain compliance.”

Steve’s expression went from compassionate to murderous in seconds. Bucky realized he should have been terrified to see a man as powerful as Steve so angry but somehow he knew that anger wasn’t meant for him. 

“I don’t know that he did it on purpose Steve,” Bucky said.

“I have a hard time believing Fury does anything by accident,” Steve said. 

They pulled apart when the waiter returned and placed their orders. The rest of the meal was spent on lighter topics which Bucky was grateful for. 

“How was Raynor?” Bucky asked, tired of talking about himself. 

“She says I need a hobby,” Steve griped as he fished vegetables from his bowl with his chopsticks, “I told her I run every day but she still says I need a hobby.”

“She may be onto something there Pal, no one runs for fun.”

“That’s not true! People run marathons all the time!”

“Those people don’t like running. They like bragging to other people that they run marathons. The actual running is miserable.”

“I think you need to give it a try, Bucky. You might like it.”

Bucky shook his head and laughed. “Not a chance.”

Steve picked up the bill and signaled to their waiter. “Fine. What’s your homework for the week?” 

“Journaling.” Bucky said sigh. “I don’t even know where to start.” 

“With a pen and paper I think,” Steve teased. 

Bucky balled up a napkin and threw it in Steve’s face. “Alright wiseass,” he said, “Get up. We’re going to the bookstore.”

Chapter Text

Steve

The trip to the bookstore had been fun. Steve managed to pick out a small selection of books, a sketchbook and some pencils. Bucky would’ve happily spent days skimming the shelves of the science fiction section if Steve hadn’t reminded him that the store was closing soon.  After promising to come back again another day, Steve got Buck to the checkout counter with a pile of paperbacks, a few composition notebooks and pens. 

Just thinking of the way the younger man had reverently cradled the books on the train ride home made Steve smile.  Bucky was bright and passionate, Steve had even suggested that Bucky write his own stories but he’d just laughed it off. 

“Nah,” Bucky had said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, “I like reading stories just fine but I don’t think I can sit still long enough to write one myself. I’m better with my hands.”

Something about his self-deprecating smile made Steve’s cheeks heat and he’d quickly changed the subject. 

They’d spent the rest of the night on the sofa in the living room, watching episodes of I Love Lucy because Agent Morse said they were essential viewing. Steve had to admit they were pretty funny, Lucille Ball’s timing was fantastic.  

Steve woke up early as usual and went on his run only to be surprised when he got back that Bucky was not only awake but out of the house. He’d left a note on the kitchen island that he had an appointment, a routine check-up on his prosthetic and would be home in the afternoon. 

Steve was surprised at the warm feeling he got from seeing the word home on Bucky’s note. It had only been a couple days and things were going so well. 

Left to his own devices, Steve made breakfast, went over his notebook lists and baseball highlights on tv. On the table beside the couch sat his newly purchased sketchbook, the pencils resting on top waiting for him to crack the spine. Instead he went upstairs and took a nap. 

Steve stood before the fridge considering his options for lunch when Bucky returned. He'd already had eggs, bacon, toast, and an extra large fruit smoothie for breakfast but his rumbling stomach told him that it would be wise to start on another meal soon if he wanted to avoid an energy crash.

"You're letting all the cold air out," Bucky informed him. 

Steve looked over his shoulder at the brunet, one eyebrow raised. 

"Your momma didn't ever teach you not to stand in front of the open fridge?" Bucky asked, "Running up the electric bill like that would've gotten me a smack upside the head."

"We had an icebox when I was a kid," Steve said pulling out containers of deli meats, "Couldn't really afford one of those new electric refrigerators. Now it seems like this is the most basic appliance in the whole damn house. Really blows my mind if I think about it too much."

"Geez," Bucky said.

"What?" Steve asked, " Did I lay the "back in my day" on a little too thick?"

They both chuckled.

"I dunno, maybe a little," Bucky said, "Honestly I just forget sometimes that you're older than you look."

Steve shrugged. It was hard to explain being both 27 and 97 at the same time, so he didn't try. 

"You hungry?" he asked instead.

"I could eat."

"Grab us some plates."

Lunch consisted of a mountain of cold cut sandwiches with pickle spears and chips. Bucky ate a normal amount and only twice cracked jokes about Steve’s enhanced metabolism.

“You gonna slow down and chew that?” he’d asked as Steve chomped down on his second club. 

“Any particular reason you’re looking at my mouth and not your own plate?” Steve sassed back. 

Bucky let out a loud bark of laughter. 

“Yeah, I’m worried if I don’t keep an eye on you, you’ll accidentally lose a finger to those pearly whites of yours.”

Steve flashed his best USO grin and stole a pickle spear from Bucky’s plate relishing the snap it gave when he bit into it. Bucky swatted at Steve’s hands pulling his plate closer to himself at the same time. 

“They didn’t have any manners in the 40s?” Bucky asked, “Or are you just a Punk?”

Steve shrugged and went back to his sandwich. “How are you giving me shit about manners?” Steve teased, “You’ve been busting my chops the whole meal.”

“Can’t help it,” Bucky teased back, “I’ve never seen a man drink a gallon of lemonade in four minutes before.”

“It wasn’t a gallon,” Steve said rolling his eyes, “The serum needs fuel. I eat three to four times the calories an average man my size would eat. It gets exhausting after a while so I’ve learned to be efficient about it.”

Bucky nodded. “That’s gotta make grocery shopping fun. Clearing out whole isles just to keep yourself going, maybe we should invest in a cow so you leave something at the market for someone else for a change."

Steve laughed, “Just you wait, we’ll probably need to go shopping in a day or two and now I’ll have help carting it all home.”

Bucky groaned. 

Bucky

Journaling turned out to be godsend. It was awkward at first, like talking to himself but soon enough he realized that his brain felt less noisy. It was like he could pour all of the poison out onto the page instead of carrying it around all day. 

Steve never asked about Bucky’s writing though sometimes when he looked up from an intense session he’d see Steve looking at him as if he wanted to. He never pushed Bucky to share though and his warm solid presence beside him on the couch helped more than Bucky could say. 

 Not everything was quiet contemplation though. Spending endless amounts of time together did allow Bucky to get to know Steve in little ways. For instance, after burning a large batch of dangerously spicy chili that Steve had insisted on trying despite Bucky’s pleas against it, Bucky learned that Steve had very little sense of self preservation and would do just about anything to cheer Bucky up. Unfortunately for Bucky's pride, Steve learned that Bucky was a terrible cook.

“I’ll work on it,” Bucky said embarrassed. 

Steve had clapped him on the back before munching on a palm full of antacids. “Don’t feel too bad, Buck.” he said, “When I was a kid, everything we ate was boiled. No seasoning except salt and pepper. Now there’s more types of food than we can ever eat. We can practice together.” 

Bucky let himself imagine it for a moment, standing side by side with Steve in the kitchen, chopping vegetables while Steve poured the wine, something slow and jazzy playing on the radio...With a sharp shake of his head Bucky pushed away the fantasy.  "Whatever you say," he said trying to hide embarrassment and growing attraction, "But if you end up getting your stomach pumped don't say I didn't warn you."

Steve had laughed heartily and patted Bucky's back again. Bucky let out a relieved sigh as they moved to the living room, grateful Steve had somehow missed the hearts in his eyes as he'd looked at the super soldier. He needed to get his emotions under control before his luck ran out. 

 As penance for destroying their dinner and as a way to share in the household responsibilities, Bucky took up most of the cleaning around the apartment. 

“I aint no slouch,” Bucky said as Steve started loading the dishes into the dishwasher one day after breakfast. “If I’m not gonna cook then I’ll take the lead on the cleaning.”

“You don’t gotta do that Buck,” Steve started. “You’re supposed to be working on your recovery. Building a life after your service.”

Bucky took a deep breath so he wouldn’t shout, “So are you,” he said after a few moments, “It’s a buddy system remember? I help you, you help me. Partners. I can’t have you babying me Steve. You gotta let me carry my own weight.”

Steve had looked guilty then, he ducked his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “Alright Buck,” he said, “Alright.”

Steve was good to his word, letting Bucky handle the cleanup after meals, the vacuuming and general upkeep around the house. He never complained or did Bucky’s chores for him, he did however find sneaky ways to “help” such as being the most tidy human to ever live. Bucky hadn’t caught him doing it but he knew it was only a matter of time.

“I know what you’re doing,” Bucky said as Steve leaned close to the mirror after brushing his teeth. If he didn’t know any better he would think Steve was just worried about his dental health but Bucky was almost positive he was checking the cleanliness of the glass.

“Practicing basic hygiene?” Steve asked, batting his eyes with fake innocence. 

Bucky narrowed his eyes at the super soldier and Steve flashed that smile that made Bucky’s stomach drop like he was riding the Cyclone at Coney Island. 

“You better not be babying me you little punk.” Bucky threatened.

“I’m taller than you,” Steve said, straightening to his full height before casually swiping his hand across the counter brushing the stray hairs from shaving into the trash. 

“Get out of my bathroom,” Bucky said, banging the cleaning supply bucket into Steve’s abdomen, “Go be a nuisance somewhere else.” 

Steve laughed but raised his hands in surrender and shuffled out of the bathroom. Bucky got to work wiping down the counters and spraying the tile in the shower while trying to convince himself that Steve’s pink cheeks and laugh lines weren’t cute. 

Steve

In Steve's opinion, the best thing about having a roommate was that almost every night Bucky watched a movie with Steve. 

The few hours before bed spent on the couch with the other man quickly became the highlight of Steve’s day. Bucky had a sharp sense of humor and didn’t tease him too much when slang or references went over his head. The fact that they sat close enough for Steve to feel Bucky’s body heat and smell his aftershave only added to the experience, not that Steve would admit that. 

Overall things were going well. Steve was pleased with how well, sure his life was still largely the same but now when the SHIELD agents asked, he could confidently say he had a friend and that was progress wasn’t it?

Nine days after purchasing it, Steve sat on the sofa after breakfast holding his still empty sketchbook in his hands, his eyes trained on a blank page. 

“You gotta use the pencils,” Bucky said as he plopped down beside Steve.

Steve blinked at Bucky. Steve hadn’t even heard him enter the room. 

“What?” he asked, his voice rough from disuse. 

Bucky paused and looked at the man the history books called "the greatest soldier to ever live". He still had the look of a fighter, tall and strong with perfect posture and a winning smile. His hands were large enough to fit his muscular frame but they weren't callused or scarred like Bucky's from years of fighting. His long fingers were holding a charcoal pencil with the ease that comes from practice and repetition. Bucky looked up from those captivating hands to find Steve's warm blue eyes watching him in return. There was something sad in his expression, as if he had just been given bad news or been woken up from a particularly painful dream.

It pained Bucky to see the other man so sad and he vowed to do what he could to make the other man smile. 

“I said you gotta use the pencils,” Bucky teased, forcing his voice to sound more cheerful and upbeat, “Technology hasn’t progressed enough for you to just think a picture onto the page yet. You gotta do some of the work still.”

Steve blinked then let out a breathless chuckle, looking more alert than he had moments before. 

“You’re a real smartass, you know that?” he asked, smiling a little.

Bucky grinned. "So you actually know how to draw? I thought you just bought that to please Raynor, " he asked, "They didn't mention you being an artist in the history books."

Steve rolled his eyes. "There's a lot they didn't mention in the history books," he said. 

 Steve glanced down at the blank page again and tried to think of the last time he’d sketched. The night he’d last put charcoal to paper played out before his eyes like an old newsreel, so real that he could swear he smelled the smoke..

 January 1945, He and the Howlies had been bunking down for the night before a big raid on a Hydra facility. Steve had been too keyed up to sleep and had volunteered for the first watch. Sitting near the campfire he’d taken out a small notebook and stubby pencil he’d pilfered from General Phillips and roughed out the members of his unit in their bedrolls. 

He hadn’t known then that that would be the last time he would see any of them alive, if he had, he would’ve done a better job of committing their likenesses to paper, preserving those good men they way they’d deserved. 

The memory ached like a bruise, the air in the apartment suddenly felt too thick to breathe. He closed the sketchbook quickly and stood up, rubbing his palms against his jean clad thighs as he fought down tears.

“Steve?” Bucky asked, his voice softer.

“I uh, I need to get some air. I’ll be back before supper.” Steve said. 

“Hey Pal, I didn’t mean to upset ya,” Bucky continued, “You alright? You can talk to me about anything.”

Steve barely heard a word Bucky was saying. He had to move, to get out of there. It felt like a pot was boiling over inside of him and if he stood still long enough it would all come pouring out of him the rage, the pain, the loneliness. So he pulled on his shoes and dashed out the door. 

It took thirteen miles for him to stop feeling like he was going to explode. Another twelve before he was calm enough to stop running. Finally around mile thirty he was calm enough to duck into a corner store and buy a couple of bottles of water. He drank the first two greedily and debated never going home again so he didn’t have to explain his freak out to Bucky. 

Tossing the empties into a recycling bin, Steve sipped slowly on the third and started walking home. He wasn’t a quitter, running had never been in his nature before the serum and now he had no hope of resisting the urge to stand up, fight back, do what was right. Unfortunately this time there wasn’t anything to punch, just painful memories to work through and embarrassing dinners with cute soldiers who probably thought he was ridiculous.

Steve sighed. There was nothing for it. His budding crush on Bucky was unfortunate but not insurmountable. He could ignore it if he had enough to refocus his energy on. 

When he got back to the apartment he found his roommate pacing the kitchen, his hands brushing his hair back from his forehead which was wrinkled in worry. Guilt rose up in Steve’s throat. Bucky had enough to worry about without adding Steve’s drama to the mix. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky demanded.

“Look Buck, I wanna apologize,” Steve said at the same time.

The two men both stopped and stared at one another. Steve wanted to laugh at how similar this moment was to when they first met but it didn’t feel like the right time. 

“I shouldn’t have taken off like that,” Steve said, “I’m fine.”

“You seemed upset,” Bucky said, “You wanna talk about it?”

Steve shook his head, making the other man frown which Steve immediately hated. 

Bucky opened his mouth like he wanted to argue but Steve’s phone chose that moment to ring. Bucky pointed to the coffee table where the glass and steel rectangle was vibrating and letting out a jaunty little tune. Steve was confused because he was almost positive he’d left the thing charging in his bedroom. 

“It’s been doing that,” Bucky told him, “Ringing every fifteen minutes since about ten minutes after you left.”

That answered why it had been moved. Steve made his way into the living room with Bucky at his heels.

“Who is it?” Steve asked.

“I dunno,” Bucky said, “No name pops up on the screen so I didn’t answer it.” 

Steve paused and looked at Bucky over his shoulder. 

“Usually if there isn’t a name it’s a scam caller,” Bucky informed him, “I also didn’t want to invade your privacy.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks Pal.”

The phone stopped ringing. Curious, Steve picked it up and held it in front of his face to unlock it, a mechanical female voice spoke confirming his identity. Bucky whistled clearly impressed by the high tech security. 

“See now I am glad I didn’t try,” he said, “That thing wouldn’t have recognized my ugly mug and then SHIELD agents would’ve come through the walls thinking I was snooping through your stuff looking for government secrets.”

Steve laughed, “I’m not a part of SHIELD and I don’t really know any secrets,” he said, “At least, I don’t think I do.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and gave Steve a playful shove then rolled his eyes again when Steve didn't move an inch despite being pushed. 

"Stupid freaking super soldier hunk of muscle," Bucky muttered. 

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Steve teased smiling sweetly at Bucky. 

"Yeah yeah, yuk it up Rogers," Bucky said trying not to laugh. 

Steve grinned at his roommate until the other man gave in and laughed then pulled up the call record and looked at the number of the last incoming call. He didn’t recognize the number but that didn’t mean much. He only knew his number, the local pizza place’s number along with Bucky’s and Director Fury’s off the top of his head. 

Whoever they were, they had called eleven times. Concerned that he may be needed for something Steve pushed the call button and lifted his phone to his ear. 

“Is that a good idea?” Bucky asked.

“If it’s a scam I’ll just hang up,” Steve said. 

Bucky nodded in agreement.

The call was answered on the second ring with loud rock music blaring in the background.

“About time!” a male voice said, “It’s the middle of the day, don’t tell me you were sleeping.”

“Hello?” Steve asked, “Who is this?”

An exasperated sigh met his question and then the music abruptly clicked off leaving Steve’s ears ringing. 

“Seriously?” the voice asked, “It’s only been a couple weeks and you’ve forgotten me already? I thought we had a connection.”

Steve wracked his brain trying to think of who he could have possibly met and given his number to in the time he’d been awake. The list was unsurprisingly short.

After thirty seconds of waiting the voice sighed again, louder.

“It’s Tony,” the voice said, “Tony Stark. You know… the scans of your melon had all looked normal when they defrosted you but that may have been premature. You going senile old man?”

Steve barked out a laugh. Anthony Edward Stark, son of Howard Stark was a little shit. 

“Honestly no,” Steve teased, “I think it’s just the fact that I’ve met so many people these last few weeks. You just didn’t leave much of an impression.”

Stark gasped in outrage. “You take that back,” he said, “I am a spectacle. Being in my presence is an event.” 

“Well it sure is something,” Steve agreed, “It’s good to hear from you Anthony, I’m sorry I missed your call earlier I was out for a run.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at that and Steve grimaced. It was more complicated than being out for a run but he wasn’t going to get into it with Howard’s son of all people. He mouthed sorry to Bucky who shrugged him off then went into the kitchen to rummage in the fridge for supper. 

Steve watched him go for a second then realized he’d zoned out on Tony.

“I mean come on,” Tony said, “Even my mom stopped calling me that when I wasn’t in trouble. I’m certainly not taking it from you paragon of truth and justice or not.”

Steve chuckled again. 

“Alright, I got it,” he said breaking into the younger man’s tirade, “No full names. What can I do for you today Tony?”

“Don’t ask what you can do for me, Mon Capitaine, instead ask what I can do for you?” Tony said.

He looked around his apartment trying to think of what he might need. The living room alone was bigger than his pre-war tenement and his kitchen was fully stocked. It may not have passed for a lavish lifestyle to a billionaire like Tony but to Steve, it was more than he had dreamed of having.

“I don’t follow,” Steve admitted. 

Tony sighed heavily and Steve found himself smiling, something about annoying Stark felt familiar which was rare but welcome. 

 “Just come to the tower tomorrow,” Tony said, “We’ll get you sorted out.”

Steve scratched the back of his neck, “Uh, okay sure,” he said. 

They said good bye and hung up a few moments later and Steve pocketed his phone before walking into the kitchen. 

Bucky was chopping vegetables while meat was browned in a pan on the stove. 

“Everything alright?” he asked, not looking up from his task.

Steve wondered if he was asking about the phone call or about their earlier discussion that was cut short. The memory of his behavior pinked his cheeks and ears in shame. Not wanting to revisit his embarrassment again so soon, Steve took the easy way out. 

“Um yeah,” Steve said, “Turns out I knew the caller.”

Bucky slid the sliced peppers and onions into the pan and gave everything a stir then turned to face Steve.

“Oh yeah?” he asked.

Chapter Text

Bucky

Steve leaned against the doorframe looking good enough to eat in a plain black sweater and blue jeans. 

“Turns out I knew the caller,” he said, a rueful smile on his face. 

Bucky could see that Steve was still working through whatever had sent him running from the house but was putting on a brave face. He was smiling but his eyes were tired and all Bucky wanted to do was hug him.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked.

He wanted to give Steve his full attention but he also didn’t want to burn their meal so he gestured for Steve to help him at the stove. The bigger man followed him into the kitchen though he made his way to the sink first to wash his hands. 

Someone needs to study why rolled up sleeves are so sexy on a man. Bucky thought. 

Steve came to stand beside him, sauteing the vegetables while Bucky checked on the rice. 

“About earlier,” Steve said, his voice low, “I uh-” he heaved a heavy sigh, “Time’s a weird thing. Sometimes I feel like I am in two places at once,  here now grieving folks that have been gone for decades and still thinking I just saw them yesterday.”

He shook his head. Bucky turned the burners off and leaned a hip against the counter to give Steve his full attention. 

“Drawing’s something I did when I was in the army. Something that still let me feel like me after Project Rebirth. I haven’t picked up a pencil since Azzano. The memories hit me hard today I guess.” 

He finally made eye contact with Bucky and those show stopping blues were a little red with unshed tears. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky closed the distance between them and threw his arms around the bigger man. Vulnerability wasn’t easy it took real bravery to open yourself up to someone else, Bucky knew that first hand and the fact that Steve had felt like he could share even this little bit with him was humbling.

“Oh Steve,” Bucky said softly, “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Steve said just as softly, “Sorry I took off on ya.”

They stood there holding each other for a few moments and Bucky tried to keep his emotions in check despite how good the closeness felt.  Eventually Steve pulled back and offered Bucky a lopsided smile. 

“You’re not gonna tell Raynor are ya?” he asked. 

Bucky felt himself gasp in horror, “I would never!” he said then laughed, “I’m no snitch.”

Steve chuckled. “I knew I liked you,” he said. “Now how about we finish up cooking and I’ll tell you about who was on the phone.”

Bucky felt himself grinning and would’ve tried to hide it but a matching smile lit up Steve’s face. 

Steve

Riding the subway was both thrilling and irritating in equal measure. Steve loved the people watching and seeing the improvements to the trains and the cities they ran through. He hated that they were always running late, the system struggled to support the people, and there was never enough damn room. 

That last one was a product of living in one of the most populated cities in the world and being a larger than average man but it didn’t stop Steve from being annoyed. On the plus side, Bucky also found it annoying and was often forced to squish up next to Steve as they stood on the train. 

Steve again reminded himself that he wasn’t supposed to be crushing on the young soldier. 

He’s too young for you. He thought. He deserves someone who will lighten his load and not add to it. 

Steve sighed. 

Bucky looked over his shoulder at Steve, one eyebrow raised in question.

“We’re gonna be late,” Steve said.

“You’re the one who turned down the ride Stark offered.”

“It seemed unnecessary at the time,” Steve argued.

“Being packed in here like sardines is unnecessary,” Bucky argued back.

Steve frowned and poked Bucky in the ribs. The other man bit his lip to keep from laughing and instead elbowed Steve in the stomach. There wasn’t really room for them to be roughhousing but they passed the time poking and pinching each other for a few stops before it was finally time for them to get off the train. 

They hustled up the stairs to the street and Steve found himself squirting at the bright sunshine and noise of Midtown Manhattan. Bucky bumped his hip against Steve’s in a silent check in. Steve bumped back and Bucky smiled. 

There was a gap in the car traffic so Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and they jogged across the street to the glass and steel behemoth that was Stark Tower. They entered the pristine lobby and Steve felt himself go red when he realized what he had done. Opening his grip he took a step forward only to stop again when he realized Bucky hadn’t moved. 

Steve turned back to look at Bucky who was staring at  the wall to their right which was lined in mural sized copies of magazine covers featuring Tony Stark.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, “You okay?”

Bucky seemed to shake himself out of a stupor. “Yeah sorry,” he said, “Just got a little overwhelmed.” 

Steve stepped in close, his right hand going to Bucky’s lower back as he dipped his head low to catch Bucky’s eye.

“We don’t gotta do this today,” Steve said, “If you wanna head home that’s fine. I can meet Stark alone or we can both leave and try again some other time.”

Bucky searched Steve’s gaze for something and Steve worried that his growing affection for Bucky was somehow visible on his face. The intense scrutiny only lasted a moment but Bucky seemed satisfied with what he found because he smiled. 

“Nah,” Bucky said, answering Steve’s suggestion to leave, “Let’s go see what the richest man in America wants.”

Steve laughed and leaned out of Bucky’s space and they walked together over to the reception desk.

Chapter Text

Bucky

Extensive training, mostly against his will, helped him keep his expression blank as he followed Steve to the reception bank. If his eyes strayed down to a particularly shapely backside incased in denim that was no one’s business but his own.

There was a young blonde waiting at the desk, her hair perfectly styled to compliment her makeup and red dress. A gold lapel pin declared her name to be Amy though the look she gave Steve suggested she’d change it in a heartbeat if he asked. 

Bucky felt himself scowl. He’s not yours, he reminded himself. 

His scowl deepened. 

“Welcome to Stark Industries,” Amy said, “We’re creating the future one innovation at a time. How can I help you?”

“Good afternoon,” Steve said with a smile, “I have an appointment with Mr. Stark.”

Amy began typing away at her computer though her green eyes never left Steve’s face. “At two pm? May I see an ID please?”

Bucky couldn’t help but scoff. “Seriously? He's obviously Captain America."

Amy cut him a sharp glare. “It’s company policy.”

He couldn't tell if she was angry that he had questioned her or if she simply didn't like his presence.  

Steve broke the tension by  giving him a reassuring smile, “S’alright Buck. She’s just doing her job.” 

They both pulled out their wallets and passed over their IDs though Amy had only taken Bucky’s when Steve insisted. 

“He’s with me,” Steve had said, “If that’s a problem, I can reschedule with Mr. Stark for another time.”

Something eased in Bucky’s chest when he said it. The surprised look on Amy's face made the feeling grow and his cheeks heat.  

For some strange reason he was tempted to gloat but he pushed it down and made a mental note to Google how to get over a crush when he got home. 

Eventually after receiving visitor passes and directions to Stark’s private elevator, they made their way up to the 90th floor. 

Steve

“Not afraid of heights are you?” Steve teased. He was facing the back of the elevator, watching through floor to ceiling windows as they climbed higher and higher into the clouds. 

 Glancing to his left he saw that Bucky was staring at the closed elevator doors, clearly ignoring the windows and all of Manhattan spread out below. His shoulders had risen up to his ears and his posture was tight and straight.  

Concern hit Steve like a wave.  Suddenly he wanted to pull Bucky into his arms and protect him from anything and everything. 

Realizing that his feelings were inappropriate and ridiculous, Steve instead backed up so he was able to see the other man’s face clearly.

“It’s not a fear so much as a healthy respect,” Bucky said, voice clipped with stress. 

Steve reached over and gave his shoulder a squeeze. 

“Got it,” Steve said, “Just stick close to me then, I won’t let you fall.”

Bucky

He’s messing with me, he’s got to be doing it on purpose. Bucky thought. No one talks like that in real life. 

When he looked at the man to his left Steve just gave him another of those movie-star smiles, no sign of teasing in sight. 

Reluctantly Bucky smiled back which only made Steve grin wider.

Then the elevator doors opened and all hell broke loose.

Steve

It was like walking through a mine field, learning about his soldier.

Stop that. Steve reminded himself. 

James. Bucky. He was a walking contradiction and Steve felt like he was constantly putting his foot in his mouth when talking to him. 

Stick to the mission. He thought. Bucky is building a new life and your job is to help him find his way. 

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Steve turned away from Bucky and stepped forward into the glass and chrome workshop that belonged to the son of one of his dead friends. Anthony Edward "call me Tony" Stark, one of the most famous and infamous men in the world.  

“You made it!” Stark yelled.

“Do you only listen to AC/DC?” Steve yelled back. He had searched for the song Tony had been playing when he called days before, a tune called "Back in Black" he was sure it was the same band but a different track. 

“JARVIS kill the tunes,” Tony called out. 

Steve didn't know what a Jarvis was but the radio stopped playing so he was grateful to it.  

However,  the abrupt silence left Steve’s ears ringing and a quick glance confirmed it was the same for Bucky though he didn't complain. 

"Are we interrupting something?" Steve asked. 

 The room was massive and everything gleamed in the light. There were strange robots along one wall, and Steve got the strange feeling they were watching him even though they lacked faces. 

"Yes but then I'm always getting interrupted so I've come to expect it."

Tony had been sitting on a red leather stool in front of an array of screens, their contents varied from what looked like car schematics to reddit. The inventor waved his hand and they all went black before he hopped to his feet and strode towards them. 

“Why does Captain America know about AC/DC?” Stark asked as he came closer.

“I’ve been making my way through music I missed while in the ice,” Steve said, “They were regularly present on the billboard charts in the 70s and 80s.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from listing off song names and dates. Sometimes having an eidetic memory was useful and sometimes it just clogged his head with too much information. 

“You don’t make your way through rock n roll,” Tony argued, “You’re supposed to feel it.”

“Yes, well, some of it feels better than others.” 

“Did you just insult my taste in music?” Tony asked, looking scandalized. 

Steve shrugged. He didn’t actually mind the Australian band but he found he enjoyed teasing Stark more than admitting that. 

Stark squinted at him and Steve stared back impassively. He felt himself smile a bit when Stark blinked first.

“You’re somehow not what I expected and exactly as dad described. Weird.”

Steve felt a pinch at the casual mention of Howard. He could see echoes of his late friend in his son’s face. The fact that Tony was older than Howard had been last time they’d seen each other only made it feel stranger. 

As if sensing Steve struggling, Bucky took half a step forward and squeezed his bicep with his flesh and blood hand. 

“You however,” Stark continued, “Are completely unexpected. You picking up strays Cap?”

Shaking himself out of the memories threatening to pull him under, Steve stepped to the side a little to let Bucky introduce himself. 

“Sorry,” Steve said, “I meant to give you a heads up that I was bringing a guest with me.”

Tony ignored Steve and stared at Bucky. 

“JARVIS, why does he look familiar to me?”

“His name is Sergeant James Buchannan Barnes. You read accounts of his unit being attacked overseas. He was-”

“That’s enough.” Steve said calmly. His eyes roamed the ceiling looking for the sound of the voice but the speakers were well hidden.” He tried to hide the curiosity from his face but judging by Stark’s he wasn’t too successful. Pushing aside the thrill of being in the presence of technology more advanced than he’d ever dreamed possible, he let his concern for Bucky harden his expression.

Tony waved his hand and the voice stopped speaking. Bucky had gone still beside him, his eyes tracking Tony’s every movement as he shifted his weight as if getting ready to run.

I shouldn’t have brought him here. Steve thought. This was a mistake. 

He’d hoped that introducing his roommate to someone as powerful and influential as Tony Stark would be a beneficial way to open doors for the young man. Now he just felt like he stepped on another landmine. Preparing to make an excuse so they can leave, Steve glanced to his left to gauge how Bucky was doing.

He was holding his flesh and blood hand out to Tony, the prosthetic hand was hidden in his pocket. 

“I prefer Bucky.” 

Chapter Text

Bucky

Steve was watching me. I could feel the weight of those pretty blues on my skin as a faced down the richest man in America.  Even though Steve didn't say it, I knew it was vitally fucking important that I not embarrass Captain America in front of Tony fucking Stark so I pulled himself together as best I could. 

Are you ready to comply, Soldier? 

Cold sweat trickled down my spine but I  grit my teeth and tried to ignore the commanding voice trying to pull the darkness back to the surface. 

Somewhere in the building someone knew my  name. Knew who I was, where I’d served and possibly about the time with Hydra. Nausea rolled heavy in my stomach but Steve was watching. I couldn’t mess this up. 

Tony looked at my hand curiously then gave it the briefest of squeezes. 

“His old man schtick is rubbing off on you already huh?” Tony said, “No one shakes hands anymore.”

“Sir, Ms. Potts has requested that I remind you that you have a board meeting in nine minutes.” 

Tony rolled his eyes at the ceiling. 

“Please remind Ms. Potts that I dislike being handled. Also, I own majority shares in Stark Industries, the board doesn’t have enough power to rush me.”

There was a moment of silence in which Tony grinned triumphantly at his guests who stared back incredulously. 

“Ms. Potts’ response is perhaps stronger than what is appropriate to share in front of your guests, Sir. I will summarize by saying she expects you downstairs in 7, now 6, minutes.”

Tony’s grin slipped a little and he started making his way across the room towards an impressive wall of glass and chrome shelving. After about three steps he realized that we weren’t following him.

“Well? You heard JARVIS. My time is very expensive and in high demand today. Get the lead out.”

I started after him with Steve keeping pace beside me, a bemused smile on his face. 

“Tony, you still haven’t explained why you called me here.” He said.

“That’s what we’re doing right now, Capsicle. Keep up.”

“You know Howard was like this a lot," Steve said.

“Don’t even start,” Tony said as he finally arrived at the far side of the room, “I don’t have time for old home week and Howard was a lot of things, my favorite topic of conversation not among them.”

“Old Home Week?” Steve asked curiously. 

“ New England tradition. I’ll explain later.” I said softly. 

Steve gave me a soft smile and I felt my cheeks heat so I looked away. Tony was watching us with a smug smile and I found myself tempted to give him the middle finger. 

“Focus Up Gramps. I’ve got a gift for you, didn’t get anything for Noble Barnes there but again, you didn’t warn me that he was coming today.”

With a flourish he pushes a pile of shop towels onto the floor and reveals a piece of history I never thought I’d see in person. 

Gleaming in the light was Captain America’s fucking shield. 

Steve

Nothing prepared me for seeing the shield again. Since waking up I had told myself I didn’t miss it. The war was over, I didn’t need to be ready for violence to break out at any moment. My hands ached as I held myself back from snatching the vibranium up.

“Well?” Tony demanded. “Thank you Tony. This is incredible Tony. You’re killing me Rogers.”

I took two steps forward and folded Tony into my arms. He struggled a little and I loosened my grip.

“Tony, I don't know what to say.” My voice was rougher than I expected and I coughed to clear it. 

Bucky came up on my left and stood close enough to allow me to lean against him ever so slightly.Tony stepped back from me and dusted invisible lint from his shirt. 

My hands shook a little as I reached out. The leather straps were worn and the vibranium cool to the touch. It was as familiar to me as my own skin and I was surprised by how comforted I was feeling its weight.

Suddenly Tony clapped loudly.

“I have to go. Pepper is a lot less fun when she’s mad at me.” Tony said. “Take the shield home. There’s a carrier bag beneath it. You’re very welcome. Don’t hug me again. See you later Barnes. I expect a full download about the arm next time I see you.” 

After he left the room was far too quiet and Bucky was watching me with his big blue eyes making my skin feel too tight. 

“Want to hold it?” I blurt out.

“What?” Bucky’s face is red and he’s staring at me like I just grew a second head.

“The shield,” I stammer, “You’re staring, I figured maybe you were just waiting for me to offer.”

I held the shield out. 

“Shit you’re serious?” Bucky asked. 

I laughed. It was like a balloon popped in my chest and I was able to breathe normally again. 

“Sure,” I said, smiling, “Why not?”

Before I could hand over the shield the door behind us swung open and a heavy set man in a suit came striding in.

“My name is Happy Hogan,” he said. “Mr Stark has asked me to take you home now.”

He was smaller than both Bucky and myself but still managed to herd us out of Stark’s lab and back into the elevator. I found myself grateful that Tony had provided a carrying case for the shield as carrying it out in the open made me feel exposed for reasons I was sure Raynor would want to explore. 

Happy took our visitor badges then escorted us outside to a sleek black town car waiting at the curb. 

“My address is-” I began but Happy interrupted me.

“Mr. Stark knows where you live and will be in contact later to discuss some security upgrades.”

Bucky shot me a concerned look and I reached out to squeeze his shoulder. 

“That’s not necessary,” I said.

“You’ll have to take that up with the Boss,” Happy said unconcerned, “I don’t handle that department.”

The rest of the ride flew by quickly in the ridiculously comfortable car. Happy handed me a business card, his information on one side and Tony’s on the other as I stepped out of the car. I tucked it into my pocket mindlessly, my attention split between paranoia about why Tony thought I needed upgraded security and how quiet Bucky had gotten. 

Chapter Text

Bucky

My brain couldn’t decide what to focus on. Steve was close behind me as we walked back into the brownstone and for once since meeting him I needed him to not be there so I could think. 

There was the fact that Stark and his Jarvis (whatever that is) knew more about me than I was comfortable with. Where had he gotten that information? Why? Who else had it?

Then there was Steve. Watching him hold the shield had been a more intense experience than I ever could have imagined. 

Clearly being reunited with the shield had been an emotional experience for Steve, the way his hands had shook, the way his eyes had watered, it had been so clear that he was feeling so many emotions in that moment and all I had wanted was to fold him into my arms and make him feel supported. 

Instead I stared like an absolute goober as my admiration for Steve and all he has stood for and accomplished morphed into something much more embarrassing. 

He was so fucking hot. I was transfixed as he stood there smiling, his bicep flexing beneath his tight blue sweater as he held the weight of the shield against his broad chest and suddenly my mind was flooded with fantasies. What would it feel like for him to hold me against his chest? To pick me up or hold me down with those arms? My cheeks grew hot and I could feel my heart racing as I imagined him with the shield strapped to his back and not wearing much else. 

 I had known that my crush was getting out of control but I wasn’t ready for him to interrupt my frantic attempts at squashing the onslaught of images and desires.

Do you want to hold it? He’d asked. 

My mind was in the gutter and my eyes flicked down to the front of his jeans. Hold it? I wanted to worship it, ride it, write filthy sonnets about it. 

He held out the shield to me and the porn train in my mind came to a screaming halt. 

You horny idiot. I thought. Get your shit together.

I willed my flesh and blood hand not to shake as I reached out for the shield. The other hand wasn't fit to touch the shield at all but I didn't have much choice since I knew i couldn't support the wrist of the shield one handed.  I'm the end it didn't matter because a frazzled looking man in a suit came charging into the room. 

Turns out the man's name was Happy of all things and he was Stark’s chauffeur and possible bodyguard who hustled us out the door and into a towncar. 

Steve and I didn’t speak on the way home and I was secretly glad. I needed to try and reign in my embarrassment while also praying that Steve hadn’t noticed my desperate oogling. He was uncharacteristically quiet and I was worried that something on my face had given me away. 

Now that we were home I planned to hide in my room and forget I had ever fantasized about my roommate naked. 

“Hey Buck?” Steve called out.

I paused with my hand on the railing and turned. Steve was standing in the living room, the shield in its case resting at his feet. 

“Yeah?” I asked, my voice slightly strained.

“You alright?” Steve asked, “I didn’t know Stark or Jarvis or whomever was going to go into your service record like that. I wouldn’t have brought you there if they were gonna make you uncomfortable.”

Something in my chest tightened then loosened leaving me feeling a little weak in the knees. 

I don’t deserve this man. 

“Steve,” I said, walking away from the staircase and back towards him. “That wasn’t your fault. I don’t know why Stark knew all that but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, he does work with the military in the weapons department. Either way, don’t worry about me. I’m alright.”

I was lying my ass off a bit but Steve seemed willing to let it slide. 

“So we’re good?” he asked.

“Of course.”

Before I could say more and potentially embarrass myself the front door opened and a short redhead in an unassuming dark tee with jeans and chucks appeared in the doorway.

“Am I interrupting?” She asked. 

Chapter Text

Steve

Bucky was doing it again. Sometimes I would see him looking at me with a look that I couldn’t quite read. If I didn’t know better I’d think he was checking me out. Then red headed female agent walked into my house uninvited and Bucky’s reaction to her reminded me that I didn’t stand a chance.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked with a smile.  

Short and curvy with full red lips that matched her flame red hair,  our intruder was easily one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen.  I suddenly felt unkept and under dressed. 

“Natasha?” Bucky said, grinning back at her, “What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you know Captain America.”

“Hello James.” She said, “And I don’t know Captain Rogers yet,  that’s why I am here.”

The two of them hugged briefly then they turned to me standing like a lost idiot in my own house. 

“Sorry for just letting myself in,” She said moving away from Bucky, “Your door was open.”

Her green eyes were laser focused on my face as if she were cataloguing every micro expression on my face to report on later. 

I pushed the suspicion aside, chalking it up to paranoia left over from encountering Tony and Jarvis back at Stark Tower. 

Agent Natasha's handshake was firm and her smile remained despite my lack of enthusiasm at seeing her. 

“Call me Steve,” I said, “What can I do for SHIELD today?”

Her expression flashed guilty for a moment then smoothed out into friendly. I got the feeling that she rarely let her real emotions show and I felt my defenses go up. 

“I didn’t say I was from SHIELD,” she said, "my name is Natasha Romanoff, it's nice to meet you. "

“You didn’t have to,” I said, “Can I get you something to drink Natasha?”

I went into the kitchen to get a drink of water to give my hands something to do. Bucky and Natasha followed me. 

“Nat was one of the agents who brought me back to the states,” Bucky said, “Her and Barton helped me when I had to debrief after my captivity.”

I took a healthy swig of my glass of water to wash down the bitter jealousy crawling up my throat. 

This is a good thing. He needs people in his life his age. You’re getting in the way of the mission, Rogers. 

“Is that what brought you by? Checking on Bucky?” I asked, trying to sound merely politely interested instead of jealous and annoyed.  

“No,” She said, looking amused, “You visited Tony Stark today.” 

“SHIELD is following me?”

My jealousy over Bucky’s reaction to the pretty agent immediately took a back seat. When SHIELD pulled me out of the ice they had almost immediately tried to press me back into service. There were no short of wars to be fought and evil men to be monitored but I didn’t know enough about the world I had woken up in to feel comfortable choosing sides. 

Director Fury had voiced his understanding and encouraged me to “get out into the world” so that I could see what good there was still and maybe come to terms with fighting for it. 

I’d had my doubts as the days passed but they hadn’t pushed and I had enjoyed the time to simply live and heal. 

Now it seemed like all of that had been a lie. 

I set my glass down, the loud clink of the glass illustrated how quiet the room had become. I glanced over at Bucky and his expression was guarded. I watched as he shifted away from Natasha and slightly closer to the door leading out of the kitchen.

“No, not that I am aware of anyway,” Natasha said, “We’re watching Stark. Specifically I am assigned to Stark Industries.”

“Why?” Bucky asked before I could.

“The details are currently classified but Stark is highly intelligent-”

“And the richest man in the world,” Bucky interrupted.

“Ehhhh. Top ten for sure,possibly even top five,” she corrected, “But it’s what he’s working on that has SHIELD’S interest. I can’t get into specifics but he’s working on extremely advanced robotics.”

I felt my eyes widen just as Bucky’s did. 

“What does that have to do with Steve?” Bucky asked. 

“Probably nothing,” Natasha admitted, “But professional curiosity got the best of me. I mean how often does a girl get to meet a living breathing fossil?”

A surprised chuckle escaped me. 

“Get out,” I told her. 

She smiled, “I would if I thought you meant it.”

“We just met, what makes you think you can read me?” I asked. 

“It’s my specialty,” She admitted. “Besides everything I’ve read about Steven Grant Rogers born July 4th 1918 says that he is the consummate gentleman.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read,” I countered.

“I’ve been here for over 20 minutes and you’re only now telling me to leave? You’re soft Rogers.”

“Just biding my time Romanoff.”

The longer she hung around the more I liked her. She was sarcastic and funny. I knew she wasn’t telling me everything but she didn’t deny it when I called her on it. The honesty was refreshing compared to the cloak and dagger routine I got with Fury every time I’d talked to him. 

She turned from me and smiled again at Bucky. 

“It was good to see you James,” she told him, “You look marginally less haunted than last time I saw you. Whatever it is you’re doing, keep it up.”

“It’s good to see you too Nat,” Bucky said, pulling her into another hug, “Maybe call next time and we can have lunch or something.” 

“I’d like that,” She said, “Until next time, Rogers.”

She let herself out just as she’d let herself in and I found myself at a loss for words in the first few minutes after she was gone. So much had happened in the course of a few hours and my mind was overwhelmed. 

It happened during the war sometimes, usually after a fire fight, my body would be fine or healing on its way back to fine but my mind would be lost. They call it ‘losing time’ and shell shock. I hadn’t experienced it much in the future but I must have because the next thing I knew 

Bucky was standing in front of me chest to chest with his mismatched hands resting gently on my cheeks as his beautiful blue eyes stared into mine. 

“Steve? Are you with me?”

Chapter Text

Bucky 

Something was wrong with Steve. I first thought it was just a reaction to getting the shield back and the chaos of meeting Tony but it lingered when Nat arrived. 

Seeing Nat again was a surprise. Her and Barton had been my main contacts at SHIELD after their team brought me in. They had been part of the group to take down the Hydra cell that had kidnapped me and killed the rest of my team.

She wasn’t always nice but she was the friend I needed as I fought my way out of Hydra’s conditioning and into feeling like myself again. I was worried at first that Steve wouldn’t like her, that I’d have to keep my friends separate but he warmed up to her much like I had though there was still some weariness there. 

Now I was worried for another reason. Just like the day with the sketchbook, it was like looking at Steve but knowing inside he was somewhere else. 

His eyes were open but when I called his name it was as if he couldn’t hear me. 

I stepped a little closer and tried again “Steve!” 

Still nothing so I put aside my reservations about getting too close and gently touched his face hoping that contact would bring him back to me. 

“Steve, are you with me?” I asked softly. 

His bright blue eyes blinked slowly then slowly focused on mine. 

“Bucky,” he said back just as softly.

“Yeah buddy, it’s me. You alright?”

It took him a moment to respond as if he wasn’t really sure of the answer. 

“I think I need to lie down,” he eventually said. 

I took my hands from his face and took a half step back to give him room to head upstairs but he didn’t move right away. I took his hand and gently led him to his room and encouraged him to remove his jeans and sweater before he climbed beneath the covers. 

“Stay with me?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Of course pal,” I said. 

I climbed onto the bed beside him making sure to stay above the blankets. I folded my hands across my stomach to prevent myself from running my fingers through Steve's soft looking hair. 

“I’ve got the first watch,” I told him, “get some rest.”

The sky was dark when I woke. My head pillowed on Steve’s chest and his arm resting across my shoulders. 

“Damn it,” I whispered, embarrassed. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked, his voice sleepy but concerned.

I sat up slowly and looked down at him, hyper aware that his hand that slid gently down my back to rest near my hip. I was tempted to lay back down just to see if he would cuddle me close again or if he would scoot away now that he was awake and aware of his actions. My fear of the inevitable rejection kept me still. 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” I said, my face burning with a fierce blush.

“That’s alright,” Steve said, “You obviously needed it just like I did.” 

He looked rumpled and soft from his nap and I was glad that he sounded more like himself.

I think I might need you. I thought to myself. 

“Are you hungry?” I asked climbing out of the bed. 

“Starved,” he said with a chuckle.

“There’s a late basketball game on I think.”

“I’ll order the pizzas.”

***

The morning wasn’t as awkward as I anticipated. Steve was back to his early rising, perpetually smiling self. 

“Ready for Raynor?” Steve asked as we grabbed our coats. 

“No. You?”

He sighed, “No not really. I know she’s trying help but-”

“She’s not nice,” I said, “Terrible bedside manner.”

“She’s not that kind of doctor,” Steve said laughing.

“You know what I mean.”

He nodded. 

The air outside was crisp and I fought back a shiver not just from the fall breeze but also excitement. Steve had ordered me a helmet and it had finally arrived which meant we could take his motorcycle into the city to our therapy appointments.

Steve climbed on first and just as I suspected it was instantly the sexiest thing I had seen in a while. I sighed. 

“Goddamnit,” I said, not realizing he could hear me.

“What?” Steve asked, “You’re not scared are you?”

He was teasing me, I could see it in the half smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. Asshole.

“No,” I said, pushing down my desire to kiss him silly, “I’ve ridden a bike before.” 

“I’m a very good driver,” he said, still smiling, “You have nothing to worry about.”

“You saying that makes me think otherwise, pal.”

He laughed aloud. “We can take the subway,” he offered, “We’ll be late and you’ll have to tell Raynor why but we can.”

I pulled on my helmet and stomped over to him my best ‘fuck you’ glare on my face. He laughed even harder. 

“Atta boy,” he said, before pulling on his own helmet.

“Shut up and drive Rogers.”

Steve

Raynor was agitated when we arrived at her office. She tried to hide it behind the clip board she carried along with her ever present no nonsense stare but I saw it anyway.

She called me into her office first and I shot Bucky, my best hang dog frown before following her into the room. Bucky’s barely muffled laugh made it easier to face the cranky woman assigned to monitor my mental health. 

“You and Barnes seem to be getting along,” She said, skipping any sort of pleasantries. 

“Yeah, Bucky’s great.”

She scribbled something down on her clipboard. 

“How’s finding a hobby going?” She asked.

“Are we going to have a conversation today or are you just going to run through a list of questions?” 

Normally I didn’t want to talk to Christina, but her attitude was rubbing off on me and I found myself doing the same things I usually disliked her doing. 

“Why? Are you worried we won’t get to your little lists today?” She snapped.

“What is your problem?”

We stared at each other for a moment and then she set down her clipboard and sighed. 

“There was an incident in New Mexico with Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S last night.” She said, surprising me with her honesty,”Several agents were injured and one has been compromised.”

“What do you mean compromised?” 

My adrenaline was up and I found myself sitting forward in my chair. 

“I don’t know. That was all the information I received,” she said. 

My first instinct was to run from the room and track down Fury. I’m only stopped when Christina informs me that Fury isn’t in New York. 

“What can I do?” I ask instead.

“Work on yourself,” Raynor said tiredly, “You can’t help anyone if you are a mess yourself.”

I started to argue but stopped myself when I saw her smirk. 

“I don’t like bullies,” I snapped, unable to completely suppress my frustration.

“So you’ve famously said,” Christina replied. 

“This isn’t getting us anywhere.”

She sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, I think I’m done today.”

The show of humanity snuffed out my fire and I leaned in again. 

“You gonna be okay?”

She chuckled, “What did I just tell you about helping people?”

“Nice dodge,” I countered, “Are you okay? Seriously.”

“I will be,” She said, eventually, “Tell Barnes I’ll reschedule. Go home. Do the work.”

I stared at her a moment and then let myself out of her office, shutting the door behind me. 

Bucky started to get up but I shook my head. 

“What did you do?” Bucky teased.

“SHIELD had some sort of incident last night. Know anything about Project Pegasus?”

“The flying horse?”

“I’ll take that as a no,” I said with a chuckle.

“What does that have to do with Raynor?” He said after elbowing me in the midsection.

“Not sure exactly. Some agents were hurt and one was compromised but that’s all she would say. Must be agents she knows.”

Bucky’s face grew serious and I thought of the agents we knew, Bobbi, Clint, and Natasha. 

“You think you could call agent Romanoff?” I asked.

He pulled out his phone and began texting as we made our way back to my motorcycle. 

“Sent her a text,” he said, “We’ll see what she says.”

He climbed on the bike behind me and his strong arms settled around my middle. Before I could stop myself I found myself giving his hands a squeeze. 

To my relief, he squeezed back and we took off.