AN: I enjoyed writing the Bucky/Pet interaction from Steve's POV. I think it gives a nice look at their relationship from outside eyes. Most of this is from his POV!

Present Day

Pet didn't sleep much that night. Instead she stayed awake on the couch, her back against the cushions, lost in her mind. Every so often she would hear movement, but she wasn't disturbed. It was Sam who woke first the next morning at some ungodly hour. He offered her coffee but she declined, and then, mug in hand, he sat beside her quietly. She glanced at him and he gave her a kind, disarming smile and she immediately felt a little shaky, felt her walls slip, just a little.

"How you holding up?" he asked, and she shrugged one shoulder.

"Okay, I guess," she mumbled.

"Looks like you got something on your mind," he said, peering at her over the rim of his mug. She groaned; he was too perceptive. He was right. Aside from her sister's kidnapping, she did have something else on her mind: guilt. She rested her face in her hands weakly, slumping forward as she sighed.

"That obvious?"

"You don't strike me as the deceiving type," he said kindly. "Wanna talk about it?"

She hesitated, then looked up at him, blinking slowly. "Was I too hard on him?"

"Who?" She just stared at him. "Oh—you mean Bucky?"

"Yeah," she said, and it was strange to hear someone other than Daisy call him Bucky. "I—I acted like a crazy person."

"It was a little intense," he allowed, inclining his head. "But I don't think it was unfounded."

"I shouldn't have pushed him," she murmured, shaking her head, covering her eyes with her hands. "I shouldn't have shouted at him."

"You were upset," Sam said. "You're only human. To be honest, it's the most emotion I've seen from the guy since we found him."

"How—how's he doing?" she rasped softly. "Really?"

"Eh," Sam said, making a face. "I mean, I don't know what they did to him. I can guess, but—he's doing alright. Kinda quiet. A little weird."

She smiled softly. He was weird. "This isn't me," she told Sam, gesturing at herself. "I'm not normally like this."

"You mean the crying and the yelling?" Sam asked, a twinkle in his eye, and she smiled softly in spite of herself. She nodded. "Well, you're under a lot of pressure. That gets you a free pass, in my book."

"Thanks, Sam," she rasped.

"The crazy has to stop, though," he warned. "Once we get your sister back, that's it. This becomes a zero-tolerance-zone with the crazy. We've got enough of that around here."

His smile was warm, friendly, genuine, like the sun peaking through clouds. She swore it physically warmed her, and it did take away the sharp edges of the pain. He turned on the TV, still beside her, and made idle small talk for a little while: he asked her about herself, her job, asked for more details about her time with Barnes. Before long, Steve had wandered into the room, greeting them with a gentle good morning, spotting Pet on the couch.

"I see you didn't take the bed," he mused.

"Couldn't sleep," she murmured, hating the rough rasp to her voice. She hoped it wasn't permanent. "I've done enough of that, lately."

Steve dropped his head at her words, nodding a little. He supposed that was true. He smirked, just a little, and said, "Yeah, I get it."

Her eyes widened, like she was startled or upset. "Oh," she said. "No. I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"It's alright," he said. "I'm just saying I understand."

"It was only eleven days," she said softly, almost to herself. "It was a stupid thing to say—"

"Hey," he said. "Doesn't matter. Don't minimize what you've been through. Like I said, I get it. You go under, and you wake up and everything's different, right?" She looked away, down at her hands. "The people you love are gone. And the thought of ever sleeping again is…"

"Terrifying," she said, combing her hand through her thick, dark hair. She met his eyes hesitantly. Sam was looking between them, nodding to himself. She held his eyes for just a moment before she looked away, nodding and sucking on her lower lip, where there was a rough, fresh-looking scar. It was different, now, he thought; looking at her the next morning after a night of fleeting sleep. He could see the exhaustion in her, the fear, the tension. He could also see the guilt in her eyes, and he had a pretty good feeling he knew why that was.

"How's Barnes?" she asked suddenly, and she was looking at him again, those big amber eyes wide, emotional.

"He's alright," Steve said. "He feels awful—not that I'm defending him—"

"I don't need you to defend me."

Pet started. Sam turned around and Steve turned his head: Bucky stood in the doorway, his hair a mess. It always seemed to be a mess, lately, and rough stubble lined his jaw. His eyes were darkly shadowed, his lips pale, taut, his eyes and motions jumpy.

"Hey," Sam said, chipper as ever, and Steve was grateful for that. "Coffee in the kitchen."

"Pass," Bucky said, and his eyes were on Pet, but he seemed to be avoiding her gaze. The two watched each other for just a moment, both Steve and Sam looking back and forth between them; Bucky looked nervous and flighty; Pet looked upset, exhausted, like all the steam had been let out of her. After a moment Sam cleared his throat.

"Awkward," he mumbled, and Steve shot him a look. Sam just shrugged, taking a swig of coffee, and he was right: It was painfully awkward.

"I'll go," Bucky said.

"Hi," Pet said simultaneously in her rough voice, and it came out as a squeak. They both stared at each other. Bucky looked confused, more nervous than ever, and Pet's entire focus, every fiber, seemed to be zeroed in on him. "Um," she said softly, and Bucky just stood there, so still, just staring. "Can we talk?"

All eyes were on him now; it was like watching a tennis match, Steve thought. Bucky, still frozen, finally nodded, just slightly, and came a little closer, moving like a cautious animal. Pet patted the couch's arm beside her and Bucky came around, paused, and then finally looked at Sam.

"Move," he said, and Sam looked miffed but he moved. "Please," he added as an afterthought, and his face suddenly seemed to crumple, and the saddest, most forlorn look Steve had ever seen him wear took over his face. It was this strange thing he did, Steve had noticed, always with the Please and Thank You.

"Well, hey," Sam had joked. "At least he's polite." But it felt like so long ago, now.

Apparently it was significant, though, because at the sound of it Pet dropped her head into her hands for a moment, laughing a laugh that was halfway a sob. Bucky looked lost, but his eyes never left her.

"Well," Pet said, "good to know she taught you well."

Bucky did the strangest thing, then: He smiled. It was a small, half-smile, wistful, but he smiled. His eyes were damp. "I'm going to fix it," Bucky said, and his voice was so serious. They seemed to have forgotten that anyone else was in the room, and it felt intrusive but Steve was fascinated. "I'm going to get her back, Pet."

Her head was still bowed, one hand on her forehead.

"I'm so sorry," he said, like he couldn't stop himself. It was strange, hearing him so vocal. "I'm so sorry, I'm going to make it right—"

"I'm sorry," Pet said suddenly, her head snapping up, and he blinked at her. "I—I'm scared. You know? So scared. They took my kid, and I didn't know what else to do and I was so angry, and I had to blame someone and I blamed you, because you weren't there and it was so easy but—"

"It's my fault—"

"You did everything I asked you to do," she said. "I know that. I know it. You hid her—the police said she was taken from the attic. They found blood. She didn't get there herself, I know you hid her, and—"

"I should have known—"

"How could you?" she asked. "How could you have known?"

"I should have trusted you—"

"I'm sorry for the way I acted," she said, and she was speaking quickly now, her tone upset. "I know, I know what they did to you and I shouted at you and I pushed you and I—I shouldn't have put my hands on you. I always told myself I wouldn't lose it because I didn't want to be like them and—" her voice was squeaking, now, a few tears having rolled down her cheeks. "I just want her back. It's making me crazy and I'm sorry—"

"You don't have to apologize," he said, and they were all clearly taken aback. He was getting emotional now. "You—you opened your home to me—and the one time you needed me I wasn't there—"

"Shh," she said.

"I'll find her," he said. "I'll make them pay. I swear."

Pet was nodding now and there was a silence. Finally, she spoke, and her voice was shaky but not without humor.

"It's nice to see you, again," she said timidly. "I probably would have missed you if I wasn't so pissed off—"

"Told you you would," he said, and she laughed another shaky laugh. Steve and Sam exchanged a glance.

They'd told him the basics of Bucky's time with this little family, but it hadn't occurred to Steve, until just now, that the two had formed a sort of bond. He didn't know anything about Pet, really, only what he had seen so far: that she was scared, that she loved her sister dearly, enough to track down the Winter Soldier and confront him, and that she had a good heart. It seemed to radiate from her, and Bucky himself had told Steve that "the girl wasn't a fighter." But they had this way around each other, this ease, but they were both so alert; Pet watched him carefully, and the way she looked at him—well, there was no mistaking the compassion in her eyes. She looked at him in a way she didn't look at Steve or Bucky, and it took Steve a moment to realize it was protectiveness. And Bucky looked to her, a lot, gauging her responses, watching her reactions to everything.

It was a strange interaction, one that fascinated him and, admittedly, made him a little jealous. How had Bucky bonded with the woman, a complete stranger, while things between Steve and him were rocky? Why did he speak to her more than anyone else? Was her turning up here a blessing?

Ever since they'd found him, Bucky'd had this childlike quality to him that Steve couldn't place; a tentativeness, a brokenness, an uncertainty. He'd never seen his friend this way before, and it was unnerving and, if he was completely honest, he didn't know how to handle it. But, now that Pet was here, it made a little more sense, the way he looked at her, the way she had his attention without realizing it. She'd been the one to care for him when he'd needed it, she and her sister; she had been the one to take him in and feed him and clothe him. And that, Steve thought, having been so vulnerable (and Steve knew that he was so, so vulnerable now) with someone, forged a bond, and he was looking at it, now right in front of him, sitting on the couch.

It sparked something in him, a determination: he would find the girl. They would get her back, and he would stop at nothing until they had her.

Bucky and Pet were speaking now, and Steve just listened. She was clearly still upset, but now the emotion seemed to have turned inward.

"How have you been?" she asked him.

"Alright," he said, shrugging one shoulder. He still had that look on his face.

"You look well," she observed.

"I miss your cooking," he muttered.

"Hey," Sam said, offended, and Pet grinned and rolled her eyes.

"You've obviously never tasted good cooking."

"I'm right here," Sam muttered, and Steve laughed. Pet sighed, then, and stood, and Bucky looked up at her. She looked down at him and did the strangest thing, so strange that it actually made Steve tense up, just a little: she reached out and cupped his jaw affectionately, tracing her thumb over his skin briefly as he leaned into the touch, just slightly. Then she pulled away, rolled her shoulders, winced a little, and looked at Steve and Sam.

"I should go," she said. "I really don't want to overstay my welcome."

Steve knew she just wanted to leave, so he stood with her. "I'll walk you," he offered.

"Oh, no, Sir, you really don't have to—"

"Just Steve is fine," he chuckled. "And please. It's no trouble."

She nodded slowly and he walked toward her as she edged for the door, looking uncomfortable. Bucky watched her go and Sam shook her hand.

"Just keep me in the loop," she was saying. "Tell me what you can."

"You don't have to go," Bucky said. "Does she?"

"Of course not," Steve said, catching Pet's eye. "You're always welcome here, Pet."

"Thanks, but I—I just need to be alone. Okay?"

"Understood," Steve said.

She was quiet most of the way back to her hotel, and Steve found himself wondering if she had always been so quiet, or if it was a side effect of everything she had been through. Her eyes were distant, her movements still a little stiff, and she looked haunted. A honking car horn made her flinch violently and she smacked into him before she fluttered away, all wide eyes and apologies, and it would have been comical if it wasn't so sad. He'd just reassured her and calmed her down, told her she'd had nothing to be embarrassed about, though she seemed to feel differently.

He chatted idly with her a little bit, interested in what kind of woman she was. Who, in their right mind, would have allowed someone like Bucky into their home? It spoke volumes about her, but he just wasn't sure what, exactly, it said. Whatever the case, he was on her side, now. She seemed a little nervous around him, shy, embarrassed, and he suspected it had something to do with their first encounter, which she had already apologized for. He didn't hold it against her.

Finally, they made it to her hotel.

"Thanks," she rasped, "for walking me back."

"It's no problem," he said kindly. "And—here." He scribbled his phone number down on his notepad, tore out the sheet, and handed it to her. She looked at it, her brows knitted together for a moment before she looked up at him.

"It's a phone number," he teased. "Don't look so confused." She swallowed. "Just in case you need anything. Alright? Anything at all, don't hesitate, I mean it."

"You don't have to do that," she mumbled.

"I want to," he said, and she looked a little uncomfortable for just a moment. "Like I said, I have an idea of what it's like." She was nodding slowly, and her eyes were damp.

"Wow," she murmured. "Thank you."

"Go ahead and send me a text when you have the time so we can contact you if we need to." She nodded. "Just remember, you can come over any time. A friend of Bucky's is a friend of mine: you're always welcome. And, besides, you have this way with Bucky…"

"I just took care of him," she said around a shrug. "That's all."

"Well, whatever it is, I think we could use a little more of it." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked around, giving her a small smile. "Anyway. I'll leave you alone."

"Thank you, Steve," she said earnestly, and he ducked his head a little, backing away from her.

"Remember that number," he said sternly, wagging his finger at her, and this actually startled a little laugh out of her and she nodded.

"Yes, sir," she said with a little half-hearted salute, but it was nice to see her a little less dreary, if only for a moment. He grinned and turned away as she headed back inside.

He was almost home when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out to take a look, and it was from a strange number.

Hi Steve, it read. It's Pet. Sorry to bother you but i just wanted to thank you again for your kindness. after everything thats happened you dont know how much I needed it. it means a lot to me. Best Wishes.

He smiled, just a little, and sent a quick reply: Everything is going to be ok, Pet.

AN: 85 reviews and counting… think we can get this to 100? Thank you all so much for your support so far! How do you feel about everyone's interactions here? I like that Pet and Steve can relate to each other just a little…