Bucky has a hard time sleeping. There's no guarantee when he closes his eyes what he'll dream about or whether or not it'll be memories breaking through the programming or a confusing mix of imagined nightmares or those implanted in his head to keep him in line, as a Big Red Button to mash in case of emergencies like independent thought or violence against the wrong people.

It's easier to just not sleep, really.

Steve's been giving him space - and thank God for that - because at least the delusion is that he's improved a lot in the last half week or however long this eternity of bullshit he's endured since waking up actually has been. The upside is that Bucky doesn't have to feel like an asshole for lying or wish he could complain at Steve about how useless he feels and actually get through to him; the downside is he does both of those things anyway, except with Steve somewhere else actually doing something.

Natasha is a pain in the ass about all of it, all his questions about what they're doing about strategy, about whether or not he'll be cleared and able to fight alongside them, but in spite of all that he's grudgingly liking her more than ever.

"Shouldn't you be in the meetings or whatever?" he asks her one morning over breakfast, which they've just agreed to dismiss as a topic in and of itself, because Bucky has no frame of reference for what food tastes like these days.

She shrugs. "I had my say. We'll all have our say a little later. I'm not a soldier, I'm a spy, so I'm not the best person to ask, anyway."

"But you know Loki," Bucky points out. "And you're an Avenger."

"I don't think you get the Avenger thing. It's not a rank," Natasha says, toying with her eggs. "It's a shared battle scar."

"You lost a friend. A colleague." He sighs. "I know."

She pauses in the thoughtful gesture of her fork, then says, "I took your notebook to Fury."

Bucky can't even parse that at first. Then he can, because of course she would. He pushes his hair out of his eyes and looks at her, as expressionless as he can manage. "You did what?"

"I like how you apparently got information on the Loki business from people without breaking bones. It's a good sign," she says, in that offhanded mild tone that has at least three layers to it (including I don't care what you think but also please don't be too pissed off'). "Sneaky but not malicious. Your strategies look solid, even to a spy. Anyway, I figured at the very least it'd prove to top brass that your brain's working again."

"Why would you do that?" It was stupid to even start writing down his ideas. He didn't have enough information, enough detail, and he doesn't know for sure how much technology has actively changed things, especially military strategy and philosophy, beyond the things he's managed to voraciously read on the internet and in the database. "He's going to think I'm plotting against you or something."

"No, he really doesn't," Natasha says, a little amused. "They've kept a close eye on you. Outside interference is unlikely."

"What if I'm an active free agent?" Bucky returns, more than slightly tense.

"That would be too simple," she says, and eyes him far too knowingly. "The thing with you and Rogers is anything but simple."

It's not even worth a heavy sigh at that point. "That has nothing to do with anything."

"From how Dr. Browning speaks about your course of treatment, it sounds like it was pretty much 'Steve Rogers plus mad science equals Bucky Barnes again.'" Natasha taps her fingers on the table. "He matters to you. In a way that you can't fake."

"Could you fake it?" Bucky retorts, not even sure what he's getting at. Anything to not have to answer.

"I could," she answers without missing a beat. "You can't. You were at your weakest, at your least you, and you still knew him."

He's silent for a long moment, and he finds his thoughts not racing, just one thought clear in his head. "Have you had anyone like that?" he asks her. "Someone who could break through."

"No." He watches her. It's impossible to tell if she's lying, really, but he thinks it's probably the truth. "They got to me earlier than they got to you. The point is, Fury's considering it."

"Considering... my ideas?" That conversation feels ages ago now.

"Considering you," Natasha says, apparently cutting the bullshit. "That's all I know."

That stops Bucky cold. "...Agent Romanov," he says, his tone uncertain.

She chews her eggs and sends him a faux-inquiring look when she's swallowing. "Yes?" she prompts him.

"Thank you."

A smile flits across her face like a bird past a window, and it's great, and he smiles back, despite himself. He sticks his right hand out to her, and she shakes it, putting on a mock-serious expression. "Good luck, comrade," she bids him, in terse Russian.

He laughs, surprised, and she raises her eyebrows as he returns the gruff words and goes.

The strategy meeting is not what Bucky expects it to be. Based on the despairing expressions most of the SHIELD agents wear and the Avengers' total bewilderment and annoyance, he's going to assume that it's not just him and this is not generally how the average strategy meeting looks, especially considering there are way, way too many people there.

Thor - yeah, the god of thunder guy with the hammer, he doesn't believe it either - winds up talking over just about everyone without a microphone, which Natasha explains to him with a tone much more matter-of-fact than the situation's total nonsensicalness seems to ask for. (Loki's his brother. They come from another dimension. Thor's supposed to be king. So. It's all very Shakespearean.)

All of that is not even nearly as weird as the part where Fury seems to have incorporated some of Bucky's strategies against Loki.

Bucky misses something, then Fury tells them to get their asses to bed on time tonight because 0700 is when they all go to war, and he exhales. Hewon't be going to war. Steve glances askance at him, and he puts on a faint smile.

If he can't be there to protect Steve, maybe at least his plans can be?

"You know," Steve says, in undertone enough, "I'm not ninety-five pounds anymore. I can protect myself. I fought off an alien. And a supernazi. And - "

"And you punched Hitler," Bucky says, dryly. "I remember."

"I'm just saying." Steve seems hesitant to touch him. Bucky is hesitant to let him. "I'll come back."

"You'd better," he resorts to, when his mind can't supply him anything but the urge to pull him close and not think of tomorrow at all. "Otherwise I'm taking that damn shield."

Steve grins a bit. "Natasha called dibs."

"Yeah, well, she can fight me for it."

"Rogers!" Stark calls, and Steve gives Bucky a look of good-natured weariness before he turns to go greet him. Obviously, Bucky follows, not needing an excuse for this kind of entertainment. Stark is so cheerful, how does he manage that? "I'm going to find some liquor," he says. Oh, that's how. "You two going to join us?"

"I'm not even sure I'm going to join us," Banner says.

"Me either," Rhodes says, smirking, "but you'd be surprised how persuasive he is."

This is getting harder to deny. And Steve knows it. No point, then; it's a whole new world by now, right? "So I hear," Bucky says, casually as he can manage.

"As I was saying," Stark says, and damn can the man smile. "Come on, I know you can't get drunk anymore, Cap, but it's worth a shot, so to speak - and anyway, you won't have a hangover. You," he says, rounding on Bucky, which shouldn't be a surprise but it is and he knows it, "I don't know about for sure but let's call it an experiment." Stark's eyebrows quirk up, and Bucky officially considers himself doomed, because this asshole's eyebrows are giving him all sorts of ideas. "An experiment! Science! Verification you are in fact the second of the Supersober Wonder Twins."

He has to interrupt, even though it seems like Stark's out of steam anyway. "Actually I could go for this," he says to an already worrying Steve, doing his best to restrain a grin.

And there's Steve's mildly terrified face. "Whoa, wait," he insists, "Dr. Cora said until you're, uh, stabilized, you should - "

Jesus, why is he so desperate? He feels like an idiot. "Yeah, but I am almost basically me," he points out, as flippantly as he dares for something this important.

Steve persists, though. "But what if something..." He's already accepted Bucky's answer, though; it's written all over his face, even before Bucky shrugs at him. "You're not listening to me."

He keeps Steve's gaze. "I may not remember a lot about our last campaign, but I remember that we treated each day like it was our last, including having a brew or six."

Bucky wishes he could be ashamed of himself for the expression he sends Steve's way, the wish he needs granted, but he's not. Can't I just have one night, like before? Steve sighs, and speaks falteringly. " Fine. Fine, we'll be there. Where are you getting the liquor? They don't have any on base. Do they?" he asks, startled, when Bucky laughs.

"You are so naive for a captain," Barnes says dryly, and eyes him with amusement and more than a little affection.

Steve would look embarrassed if he looked up at all. "Whatever," he concludes. "You go... find a bathtub full of gin or something, I have to work out some last-minute strategy with Fury."

"How is this last minute? It's like twelve hours away," Stark says, while Steve gives Bucky his best be careful I swear to God face, which is the most ironic thing he can think of to get from Steve, really, and wanders away. "He's such an overachiever. Teacher's pet. Am I right?"

"Ha, you have no idea," Bucky says, flashing Tony one of his grins. "You need any help acquiring the booze?"

"Well we're in Turkey, so that might pose a problem," Banner cracks.

Stark talks to his robot thing or whatever in that great arrogant asshole drawl, which would be so fun to... no, Bucky really needs to snap out of this. "I can't believe what a damn showoff this guy is," he says to Rhodes. "Does he ever turn it off?"

"He sleeps," Rhodes concedes.

"Charm like this can't just be turned off," Stark answers him belatedly, and takes out what Bucky still can't believe is a phone. "Got it. Who's driving?"

Oh, he can't not laugh at that show of stupid technological advancement - that's already been topped multiple times, yeah, but it's still insane and amazing. Finding three liquor stores, in the middle of nowhere in the Middle East, in under a minute. "The twenty-first century," Bucky says, shaking his head. "I thought your dad was full of shit."

"He was," Stark says blithely. "I never did get that flying car. Shall we?"

Booze, flirting, being stupid enough to annoy Steve, who is more interested in the righting of wrongs and bringing justice to bullies; it's enough like before, like New York, to assure him that he's fine. He's fine. He's Bucky Barnes.

The thought brings a smile to his face. The self-conscious glance Stark sends him turns it to a smirk.

This could be a good night, and that's good enough news to him.

They get some beer, they settle in at the mess, and Bucky finds he really likes these guys, even the ones who he isn't somewhat accidentally flirting with all the time.

("Accidentally," you're so full of shit, Steve said on their walk there. But whatever works for you, Buck. It was the first time he'd heard the nickname in a day or two, and it felt like forever. He grinned.)

The point is, he can't help himself, and why should he? It's a new century, and there's something called Don't Ask Don't Tell, apparently, and marriage equality, whatever that means. There are more important topics right now.

"How," Bucky says, pointing the lip of his beer bottle at him in something resembling accusation, "are you a New Yorker without opinions on baseball?"

"Because he doesn't have opinions on things that don't involve him," Rhodes explains in a deadpan. "It might be annoying but at least it means he doesn't argue everything possible to death."

"No, it's not that," Tony insists. "It's because the Yankees jumped the shark like fifteen years ago."

The Yankees. Bucky feels like he's been hit by a two-by-four, or probably how that would have felt back when Hitler was alive, really. "The Yankees?" he repeats slowly.

Tony sighs heavily. "The Yankees. Look, the Dodgers aren't an option anymore and the Mets, seriously - "

"What do sharks have to do with anything?" Bucky persists, and glances to Rhodes wearily in lieu of gesturing for another beer.

"It's a phrase. Look, baseball is not a big thing anymore," Tony starts, and Bucky makes an indignant sound, which thankfully he manages to stifle after Steve almost laughs in his face.

"Speak for yourself," Rhodes is saying. "I love me some baseball."

"That's because you're boring," Tony informs him.

Bucky cuts in, then. "I will punch you," he tells Tony, barely restraining a smirk into a grin.

Somehow Tony's prepared for that. "Wouldn't be fair. At least let me put on my digs. You're all supersoldier or something. Wouldn't be even."

Touchy subject tonight. But Bucky deals. "Yeah, or something," he returns, and drinks. "Would love to see how you fight without the robot thing's help."

Tony shrugs. "It doesn't really help me besides being metal and having jets on my feet and blasters in my hands. But yeah, suit off, not as impressive," he almost admits.

Rhodes leans in to add helpfully, "It's actually sort of embarrassing to watch."

"It is not," Tony protests, looking actually a little wounded.

Rhodes looks at him plainly. "You rely almost entirely on gadgets."

"So does Batman," Bruce chimes in. "As long as they work."

"Which they do," Tony says, cheering up. "Glad we cleared that up."

No, this is too good, and Steve is even kicking him a little. Now he has someone to blame. Perfect. "You should spar, though," Bucky presses. "Get used to it. You're a decent fighter but I could show you some things."

Tony raises his eyebrows. Somehow, Bucky doesn't let his expression change. "Like what exactly?"

"You have weak spots," Steve agrees, helpfully.

"Everyone has weak spots. Achilles had weak spots," Tony points out, a little defensive.

"Oh, no, not the classics," Bruce deadpans, still nursing his first drink. "Cool down, let's not get defensive. Or offensive. It's worth a shot, right, Stark? Call it a preliminary assessment."

"Fine. Only one of you at a time at first, I'm not into Cold War reenactments." Tony puts his hands up. "Who wants to take me first?"

"He does," Steve says instantly, and Bucky elbows him, but nods. "I do," he confirms.

"Looking forward to hearing your, uh, input. Anyone want to play beer pong?" Tony suggests in a swift change of topic.

"No idea what that is but I'm in," Bucky says, raising his hand. Steve sighs at him, which is the best part. It's only then that it occurs to him that he might be getting slightly drunk, or worse. But he's enjoying it. That's good, right? The Soldier never enjoyed anything.

Fuck, he didn't want to think about that. There's a noise in his head, now that he's willing to acknowledge it. Shit, fuck. He needs some air.

"Hardly fair," Bruce is saying. "You're not getting drunk."

"I'm not?" Bucky returns, and gathers up the empty beer bottles for an excuse. "'Supposed to 'recycle' or whatever. One second. Don't start without me."

He knows his way around the base by now too well, so he manages to find a place near a damn recycle bin that he can also sit by and breathe. Amazingly, Steve hasn't followed him, and he's incredibly grateful for that, because eventually he's going to have to learn how to do this on his own, especially if Steve -

Yeah, no, he can't think about that.

What's happening back there - all this planning and work, the aims and the struggle - it's all missions, isn't it? That's what the noise in his head is saying, that's what he's hearing in every word they're all saying. Prepare. Learn. Know your enemy. The mission. The mission is paramount. Complete your mission. You will be briefed.

It's too hot, all of the sudden. He can't go to the mess. He retreats to the bathroom, runs the water, gets it as cold as he can, and presses it into his face again and again, eyes barely open enough to see the slate gray of the counter, and it's the only thing that comforts him. He's calm - calmer than he's ever been, than he ever remembers being. He takes a deep breath, looks into the mirror, and fixes a piece of hair before leaving.

"Barnes," Natasha calls, as he's heading back towards the mess, and he hesitates to turn back to her, but knows he has to, so does. There she is, with Barton. "Thor's in the mess, apparently. At your little party, which Fury's thrilled about, in case you're wondering, but he figures he's got the Captain there supervising anyway so you guys won't burn the place down. You mind telling him we're looking for him? He has some guests."

"Hi," a short girl with dark hair and big glasses says, peeking out from behind Barton. "We're here! Tell him we're here. He'll run. Well, he'll run to her."

"Darcy," another woman hisses at her, from where she's slinking down behind Natasha. When she straightens, he gets a good look at her - clearly mousy - and this is not how Bucky pictured Thor's scientist girl. "...Hi," she offers to Bucky.

Bucky pauses. "Hi," he says to them.

"This is Dr. Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis, just, tell him they're here? He'll come," Barton says, with just a tinge of amusement.

"Will do," he affirms.

"Can I go to the party?" Darcy asks Natasha in an undertone. "It sounds awesome. Like, Iron Man! Thor! Captain America! Guy with a metal arm who I've never even heard of! Man, what kind of sweepstakes do you have to win to get one of those?"

Bucky sighs and strides to the mess, his mood not all that great until he hears Tony Stark rambling on about dicks, with accompanying gestures. Then he looks back around and it's all even better. "Go on," he prompts Tony.

"Huge," Tony finishes his sentence, with some relish. "No doubt in my mind. Or anyone else's. Never met a guy so willing to show it off."

"At least he has the decency to show off the real deal," Rhodes deadpans. "You know, not with cars, or inventions, or – "

Bucky walks over by Steve, still a little dazed from the whole ordeal, and interrupts the sarcasm when he comes back to himself after a touch from Steve's hand. "Right," he realizes, and turns to Thor. "Uh. Barton and Romanov are looking for you. It's your, uh. Girl. The." He pauses, and hopes that this alien in particular isn't educated enough on human etiquette to be pissed off at him for not knowing how to describe his girlfriend, then just goes on. "The scientist? And some weird girl with glasses."

"Jane," Thor cuts him off, grabs a second and a third bottle of beer, and goes. Tony mouths indignantly but doesn't get his words out in time. "That... those... were my beers," he complains.

Shit. Steve's touch usually grounds him. Why isn't it working? Why is this even happening? "Are we just going to sit here and drink?" He paces, and looks to Steve, who watches him with guarded concern. "Because as much fun as it is to – talk shit and reminisce about things half of us don't know about or remember..."

"What are you suggesting?" Bruce finally cuts in.

"A warm-up," Steve cuts in; Bucky looks at him, and Steve's face could not more clearly say I trust you. You can do this. "We used to have punching bags. Or I did, anyway. Guess SHIELD thought it was too much to haul. We get bored."

"How is this a warm-up, we're both drinking, and – I'm not a punching bag," Tony belatedly notes in vague and sort of endearing annoyance. Rhodes snickers. "I'm not!"

This could help. Steve trusts him. So he trusts himself. "Prove it," Bucky says, simply.

He can see the interest and anxieties so much like his own in Tony's eyes as he stands. "Done," he says, and shakes Bucky's right hand once again, sizing him up calmly. "Where?"

"I would suggest not here," Bruce speaks up. "If you get your ass handed to you, it might make, uh, a mess. In the mess."

"I'm not going to get my ass handed to me. I'm going to get my ass graciously returned to me," Tony tells Bruce, and glances at Bucky. "Well?"

If it's up to him, then... "Follow me," Bucky says, more confidently than he feels. He goes, knowing (hoping) that Steve looks after him in nothing less than faith and trust, and that he wasn't seeing what he wanted to see when he looked into Steve's face.

It's all a matter of keeping his grip. Once they're just one hallway on the way to the hangar, Bucky's realized this was a stupid idea, and he can't handle this, or he's going to have a hell of a time handling it. Stark's following him like a damn half-drunk idiot and it's both mortifying and terrifying to think of losing control and hurting him while knowing better.

Don't come back. Please. He's praying to the Soldier for mercy, now, mercy for having been stupid and dropping his vigilance for even a minute. I want to stay.

But that's not how it works, does it?

The world is sort of crisping at the edges, which makes no sense at all but is the perfect description, and then he vaguely recognizes a voice and a touch and lashes out instinctively.

No, the Soldier can hear, just faintly, as he hauls the man from SHIELD up to choke him. It reminds him of something else. Something hurts , in his skull and in his chest, and he has to force it back as the man starts to shout at him, words and names he doesn't understand or want to hear. He shoves the man against the wall, choking him with his left hand, desperate for the man to die and for this to be over so he can escape, and then his arm fails.

It falls. It's dead, and he can't move it.

"I can't," he manages, and tries again, and again, and again. It's incredibly distressing, and the pain in his chest gets worse with each attempt. "Why can't I - "

"You have to let me fix it," the SHIELD agent he was choking says from the floor, and crawls to his feet. "I can make your arm better. Bucky." He shakes his head at that, but the SHIELD agent presses him. "Let's go talk to Steve."

"I can't – " His head is going to explode. Steve. Bucky. Buck. Who the hell is Bucky? He groans. "I remember," he grits out. It's too real, too much, and he has to kill him, but he can't, because he's real now, and, fuck. What is this no man's land he's trapped in and why? "Him. You. Why..."

"Because you're getting better," the SHIELD agent insists, and he looks at him, and it feels like something jumps in his chest, through the ache, something good, and it's so out of nowhere he can't even understand it. "And you jumped, to get away from them." Jump. He remembers that. The snow swirling... he's still talking. "You broke their hold on you and you jumped, you risked it all, and now you're back, with people who actually give a shit about you and won't use you as a weapon."

The SHIELD agent is standing there, and it just... goes. He's cold, so cold, but the other option is scarier. "Where's Steve?" he asks.

"This way."

He follows the SHIELD agent, and they find Steve and some others after a few moments of walking in silence. He can't decide if he wants to hide from Steve or run to him, and he avoids everyone's gazes and all the talking until Steve comes to him, touches his face, and pulls his gaze up to him. "Bucky," he tries. "Bucky, man. Are you there? Come back."

"It's - it's not working," he says, doing his best to hide the terror in his voice, and holds onto Steve.

"It will," Steve tells him, and he knows he can believe it. "Come on. Come with me."

The lab is, at least, familiar, and he comes back to himself very slowly, very painfully, and with more than a little self-loathing. But Steve doesn't leave his side, and, when Bucky's facefirst in Steve's shoulder, shaking, the doctors give them time alone. He doesn't break down, at least at first, then Steve says, almost inaudibly, "I'm sorry."

Christ. "It's not your fault."

"It's not yours, either." Bucky wants to argue, but Steve goes on. "I wanted you to be better. I wanted you to - I want you to be better just as much as you do."

"I know that," he mumbles.

"You're not just a weapon. I wasn't just a mission. And you snapped me out of it - back in '41 - and I wanted to do the same, Buck. You deserve something happy. Something normal."

Bucky smiles, a little sardonically. "I'm not ready for normal yet, obviously."

"We'll figure it out," Steve concludes, presses a kiss to his forehead, and wipes his face. "You and me."

"The only damn people I need on this base, really," Bucky says, "and I could give or take the Soldier."

"That guy can go to hell," Steve agrees dryly, trying a smile when Bucky laughs, embarrassed.

He doesn't want to sleep. But he has to. There's farewells he has to make before the troops go to war.

Bucky doesn't want to move, even though his hair is in his eyes. Steve's sleeping in the chair beside him, leaning on his lab cot with his hand on top of Bucky's loosely restrained ones. All he can think as he looks into Steve's face is if he moves Steve will wake up, leave, and everything will change. Right now, it's just him and his self-hatred, which is easier than the alternative. He doesn't know if he can deal with sending Steve off to war with all that pointless guilt on his shoulders, especially if he risks not getting him back.

Eventually Fitz stirs from where he's been asleep on the couch stowed in the back of the lab, and terrifyingly Dr. Cora opens the lab door almost simultaneously. "How do you do that?" he whispers in her direction. "Are your watches synced or something?"

"Something like that," Dr. Cora says, shrugging, and goes through the security protocols. "How are you doing this morning, Bucky?"

"I'm fine. What time is it?" he asks, urgently.

"It's 0600. Are you being honest with me?"

He sighs. "If I'm lying to you it's probably a good sign. We should wake Steve up."

"He has another hour, Bucky." Dr. Cora frowns at him. "You're..."

"Whatever," Bucky says, voice strained. Look at what you did. Steve's exhausted, about to risk his life, and it's all on him. At least if he wakes him, he can get it over with. He nudges Steve with his right hand. "Steve."

"Mngh," Steve manages, then looks up, a sleepy smile dawning on his face as he does. "Hey, Buck."

"Hey," Bucky says, and returns the smile, though it aches. "You planning on training any today, or just saving all that energy to kick Loki's ass?"

"Could use a warm-up. I hate to say it but the guy's a heavyweight." Steve is appraising him, and Bucky would feel self-conscious if he weren't apparently so damn happy.

"That comes with being immortal, I guess. Not that we'd know from experience." Bucky pauses. "Probably."

"I suggest we not test that?" Dr. Cora interrupts, with only slightly dry archness.

"Do you want to come with me?" Steve asks him. Bucky smiles in answer, and Steve turns back to Dr. Cora. "Is he clear to go to the gym?"

"Ah," Dr. Cora says uncertainly, and Bucky looks up at her, insecure. "I think it'd be best if he avoids combat of any sort, for now. But we'll release him from restraints so long as he's accompanied."

"Quite right," Fitz chimes in, out of nowhere.

"Thank you, Fitz," Dr. Cora says, and sighs, going for the keys on her belt to free Bucky from the handcuffs. "Be responsible," she adds, chiding, and fixes his hair, all maternal.

"We'll definitely try," Bucky promises her, "but this one's born trouble." He prods Steve in the shoulder. "Let's go. I'll be right back," he adds to Dr. Cora, who's eyeing him with concern.

Steve smiles broadly, and gives Bucky a hand off the cot. They head towards the gym, at first in comfortable silence, then Steve says, "Where are you actually heading?"

"What's that supposed to mean? Fine, I'm going to see Romanov," Bucky says without missing a beat, then makes a face when Steve looks at him frankly. "And Stark. What, I could have killed the guy, he deserves an apology."

"Not that I disagree, but you didn't do that," Steve reminds him firmly.

"By negligence if not by whatever," Bucky says, impatiently. "He won't be awake, though. Let's just train."

"You sure?"

"I won't punch any real people. It'll be fine. You do your thing. Maybe I'll feel a little less shitty then."

A half hour of punching the newest metal arm-compliant punching bag that Fitz whipped up a day or two ago out of mixed boredom and genuine concern gets Bucky a little winded and feeling a little less awful, which is good considering he knows he's going to feel like a complete asshole once he sees Tony all bruised and shit.

Steve approaches Bucky as he rests his head against the gravity-reinforced punching bag, and says, "I should go."

"Yeah," Bucky confirms.

"I'll see you later, Buck."

He doesn't even want to think about it. He's done this before, and he hates it. He turns around, and pulls Steve into a tight hug, holding him close to remember everything about him, or at least try, considering his sieve of a head. "Steve - "

"Don't," Steve interrupts him instantly.

Bucky rethinks it, then. "We're gonna make a great team again," he says, instead.

"You know it." Steve pulls back from the embrace, and Bucky swallows, tensing his left fist in nervousness. Steve eyes it. "It'll be fine," he assures him.

"I should go," Bucky says by way of answer, with a small nod, and Steve smiles and nods.

Stark's in his own little room. Lab. Room-slash-lab. It's perfectly him, not that Bucky knows him really well. Tony's putting on his armor, all bandaged and wounded still, and he seriously considers retreating.

Then Tony's body language changes; he knows Bucky's there. There's no point going now, so he makes himself speak. "I wanted to apologize."

"Yeah, well," Tony says casually, apparently keeping busy with... something? "We were probably pushing you too hard anyway."

There's no describing it to them, is there? "I know," he says, a little annoyed, but doing his best to stifle it. "But I – it gets to me. Knowing that all of that's still... part of me. Probably always will be. That I could just turn on people like that. I'm sorry that it – that I let it out on you."

Tony's frozen there, it's obvious, and Bucky can't decide whether he wants to go and break through or just keep the distance between them a no man's land. "Didn't hold it against you," he insists to Bucky, like it's nothing. "Now we know, right? Booze us supersoldier plus brainwashing plus cybernetic arm equals..."

Now he's doing something. Or pretending to do something. It's not like Bucky would know the difference, but the no man's land doesn't seem as daunting now; he approaches Tony. "What are you doing?" he asks, carefully.

Tony sighs, and looks up at him. "Okay, yeah," he concedes - what he's conceding, who knows. "Look, it's not that big a deal. Most people want to kill me when they meet me, but they don't get as good a chance as that."

This guy. Bucky moves closer to him, this guy he barely knows. That's the weird thing, who is this guy , this guy who's one of the first new things that's made sense, that's worked , up so close, not distant behind a mental scope of fear and pessimism? "You think you're an asshole," he finds himself saying to Tony, restraining his right hand from touching him. "But you're a hero. Just like the rest of them."

"The rest of us," Tony returns instantly, firmly. "And don't forget it."

That floors him. He wouldn't have expected that, ever, and knows - "I haven't earned that," he protests. "Not yet. Not after – "

Tony cuts him off, somehow, with raised eyebrows and sentiment he couldn't have imagined from the guy. "Tell that to the hordes of fanboys collecting Howling Commandos cards and reading about you in history book blurbs," he starts, and he doesn't stop. "And the people across Europe – the world – whose lives you saved by battling Hydra. And that's what today is – finishing what you started. It doesn't matter what you did, it matters what you do."

But I could have killed you. The last thing he expected was forgiveness, nonetheless faith. Bucky can only look at him for a moment, astounded, grateful, all of it, and there's barely any point in fighting it. He steps forward, kisses Tony fucking Stark, because this arrogant asshole is basically fantastic and everyone but Bucky is about to go to war, and this could be his last shot. Tony doesn't hesitate, and maybe it's the fear and the overwhelming nature of the kindness from the least likely source, but as they're kissing again and again Bucky's heart is all mess-plates off-beat clatter again - then Stark pulls away. "Aah," he manages, "agh, not that I'm not enjoying this, just, suiting up, briefing – "

Bucky releases a shaky breath and manages a faint smile, which turns to a smirk despite his best efforts. This is different than anything before the Soldier, before the fall. This is his life, all his, not memories or fragmented consequences of them.

"Don't die out there," he says, then. "I was just starting to like you."

On his way back to the lab, he runs into Natasha, and she has enough time to instinctively kick out his knee, which he doesn't need for this anyway, before he sweeps her into a tight hug.

"Let me go or I'll kill you," she says plainly.

"You can't die either," he tells her, and puts her down.

"I wasn't planning on it."

The non-smile she wears warms him, and lets him release a breath on his way to Drs. Browning and Fitz.

They have their battle. He has his.

They win. Thor leaves with Loki in handcuffs (and a muzzle, which is probably for the best) for the other dimension or whatever with a light show so seriously over the top that Bucky is not entirely sure he's not being pranked. The tesseract's still at large, but one thing at a time, Fury says, or at least one damn major offensive a day if they can help it.

Steve spends the day after with him, almost exclusively, the door of his room shut to keep the sound of the cleanup and moving out well out of way. The Avengers have earned their rest, and Bucky doesn't know what might have happened to his head if any of them hadn't come back. Apparently they're growing on him.

He's braiding Bucky's hair, deftly with occasional pauses, as they lie there in silence. "I was thinking," he starts.

"Yeah," Bucky prompts him, meeting his gaze.

"I don't know what we were," Steve says, focusing on the movements of his fingers. "Back then. You and me."

He releases a slow breath at that. "Neither do I," he admits.

"Or what we are now," Steve goes on.

"Yeah."

There's a long silence, where he finishes the braid and tucks it behind Bucky's ear. It's so stupid that he has to smile, and Steve grins a little at that, but it fades. "It doesn't matter to me," he admits.

"What doesn't?" Bucky needs to hear it, the actual words, even though he knows, or he thinks he knows.

"What we were. What we are. As long as we are, Buck."

This is really getting to him and he can't even put how or why to words, fuck. "Still trying to set me up with Stark? Thought you didn't like the guy," he says blithely.

Steve can't help but crack a smile. "He's a good guy. I want you to do what you want to do."

"What about you?" Jesus Christ, he just said that out loud. Bucky's throat practically closes.

His smile holds, which is sadder than the usual fading, because he's holding back again. "I'll manage."

"Steve," he presses.

"We don't need that," Steve interrupts him, insistent. "We're best friends, we have a second chance, and just - all that fooling around, who cares, okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky agrees, but there's still a sadness in Steve's face. "You're not really selling me on this, y'know."

"Things are weird," he points out. "And I have no idea what's going to happen next. None of us do."

Bucky tries a smile on, grinning when Steve returns it. "Then we'll just go with it," he says.

"Yeah," Steve agrees, looking a hell of a lot more reassured, and Bucky kisses him fondly, once and again. The kisses aren't the end of something, or the beginning of something, really; it's more like a little bit of both.

You learn, living more lifetimes and burning through more memory banks than a person should, that generally, that's how things are.

The truth is it's actually really surreal. Since Bucky's technically a patient and Tony's an independent contractor, SHIELD really, really doesn't seem to care what they're doing or saying to each other, and no one seems to even think twice about the homosexuality, really.

2012. He could learn to live with this.

Bucky doesn't have to know Tony all that well - which is good, because he doesn't - to know he's keeping a secret. The guy is under a tremendous amount of pressure, probably all coming from inside his own head, and it's obvious. He keeps stealing glances, checking on Bucky, making comments and taking moments with him, but he won't get close, and it reminds him too much of his own caution when it came to - comes to - Steve.

Things aren't simple, Steve reminded him that night. When have they ever been simple?

Honestly he's not sure how he'd handle simple.

Still, he feels bad for Tony. The guy's struggling, possibly the worst case of shell-shock he's ever seen, intense guilt or self-loathing, both, or something else entirely, God knows what. He stops by Tony's lab-slash-room and leans inside. "Hey Stark," he says, casually, "ditch the goggles, we're taking a walk."

"Can't hear you, doing science," Tony calls back to him.

"You can definitely hear me, take a break. Besides, you're supposed to be packing, remember?"

Tony looks up from the robot he's working on, a streak of grease on his face and a few bandaged cuts remaining. "I am working on packing. How do I pack without my moving crew?"

"You're seriously going to use the robots to pack your stuff," Bucky says, faintly amused. "You don't need to use the robots to pack your stuff, you know."

"They like to feel useful," Tony answers without missing a beat. "You can come in if you want to help."

"I don't know how much help I can be - "

"Yeah, yeah, everyone says that. I'm not going to let you do anything important, don't worry." He taps the leg of the robot. "Have I introduced you?"

This is genuinely baffling. "...To who?" he asks.

"This is DUM-E," Tony says, tapping the robot next to him whose leg he's working on, then points at one across the room. "That's Butterfingers. And You. Not you," he clarifies, looking back to Bucky, "that one." He points, demonstratively, to another robot. "I call him You."

"This is some Who's On First thing, isn't it?" Bucky asks after a moment of admittedly amusing confusion.

"Look, I've had these SOBs since I was a kid, they're great, but I was dumb and the names stuck," Tony says plainly. "And I never said that, if anyone asks you. Even - " He pauses, markedly, and cringes. "Agh."

There's a pause that isn't long but is deeply awkward anyway. "You were building these when you were a kid," Bucky repeats, taking another look at them.

"Yeah. Uh. DUM-E's the oldest." Wow. It looks like Bucky is getting the rare chance to see an embarrassed Tony Stark. "He needs work, sometimes, but that happens when you get older. Not that supersoldiers would know."

"Hey." He raises his left arm. "I'll need to get maintenance done here and there."

"Ha. I think you're good on that front," Tony says dryly. "Have Fitz and Cora filed the adoption papers yet?"

It's his turn to be embarrassed. "Yeah, well. Probably would have taken this place down without them, I think it's just self-preservation that they helped me."

"Bullshit," Tony says, cheerfully. "Every once in a while, SHIELD can be the good guys. Sometimes, they're not."

"Yeah, it's never that clear-cut," Bucky agrees, not quite looking at him.

There's another pause, and when he looks up at Tony, he's grinning. "Is that a braid?" he checks. "Right there?"

"...No," Bucky tries.

"Yes," Tony says, leaning in, and reaching out to touch it. "Yes, yes, it is."

"Maybe it is," Bucky concedes, genuinely embarrassed now. "Apparently it's practically an impulse if you spend enough time around me."

"We will absolutely need to test this theory with Hawkeye," Tony says, mock-seriously, and smirks at him, just for a second. It breaks his concentration and his willpower, that quick flicker of interest and I dare you, and Bucky leans across the robot's leg with his left arm and pulls Tony into a firm kiss with the right. With each kiss, he can sense Tony's satisfaction, the ego of it, his desperate attempts to play it cool as well; he wishes he didn't love every second of all of it, but he kind of does.

They break for a moment, still close, and Bucky goes for another kiss, but Tony just slightly turns away. "You're distracting me," he deadpans quietly.

"You're easily distracted," Bucky returns, and leans back, unable to keep from a small laugh when Tony huffs in indignation, feigned or not. "What? Just removing a distraction."

"Distractions are good. I'm a big fan of distractions," Tony promises.

He smiles innocently back. "You're also a big fan of robots."

Tony heaves a long-suffering sigh at that and puts down his tools, all put-out. "Barnes, I would not have pegged you for a tease."

"Yeah, well." Bucky leans over to touch Tony's face, to touch one of the bruises he'd put there. "I won't tease you for long."

Tony's eyebrows shoot up, and Bucky presses a chaste kiss to his lips before standing. "See you," he says to Stark.

"You're an asshole," Tony calls glibly after him after a dumbstruck pause.

"So are you," he returns, and grins to himself as he leaves.

They're on their way home now, thank God. The Avengers (or human ones, he supposes), and Bucky, for some reason, get first class, or whatever it's called - the name doesn't matter, it's incredible. Really he's stuck on that this is actually a plane, because it looks like a cocktail lounge. He can't complain, even if it is close quarters, especially with people who have issues with personal space or boundaries.

Like Tony. Who might have been more manageable if Rhodes had been able to come along, but he couldn't, so they're stuck with this.

"I don't care how long the flight is," Barton says patiently to Tony, "I'm not braiding his hair."

Tony gestures broadly at Bucky like a USO girl to the main act. He tries to keep a straight face, and pushes his hair back in an attempt at a vain girl's gesture. "See? There's so much of it," Tony goes on. "Besides, you totally seem like the type to have, like, four sisters. Am I right? Tough guy, house full of women."

Barton doesn't answer, and turns to Natasha. "When did this become a thing?" he asks, jabbing a thumb at him and Tony.

Natasha sends Bucky a look packed with such intense amusement it's enough to make him bite back a smile in return. "Elephant in the room time?" she asks, with the same warm tone obvious in her face, and Bucky shrugs at her, offhanded but sort of grinning. "About six months now, obviously."

"Har har," Bruce says in his usual perfect deadpan, from behind his book. "Tony Stark has flings, film at eleven."

"Hey," Tony says, feigning annoyance, "that's an absolutely fair assessment, how dare you say that?"

"He says that but I think he's actually pretty old-fashioned," Bucky says casually.

"Buck," Steve starts, already trying not to laugh. "C'mon - "

Tony sits down next to him again, nudging him. "I'll take the bait. How am I old-fashioned? How are you going to call me old-fashioned?"

"He'd know," Natasha reminds him.

"It's a point," Barton concedes.

"You're like one of those fussy difficult heiresses that Katharine Hepburn plays," Bucky says, easily, without really thinking, "all, you know. Confident and cynical and dry but with a heart of gold underneath it all. You're going to tell me that's a common thing these days?"

There's the slightest pause, then Natasha clears her throat with dignity too great to be real, Steve, Bruce, and Barton burst out laughing, and that's right about when Bucky presses his face into his hands and cringes. Tony elbows him, but unfortunately hasn't really thought that through, rams his elbow into Bucky's left arm, and rubs at it, swearing.

"I'm never going to be able to unsee it," Bruce admits.

"Why would you want to?" Natasha asks rhetorically.

"Sorry," Bucky hisses to Tony.

"Yeah, uh, no big deal, I just know this is going to make it back to Rhodey somehow and I'll have to find even better dirt on him, but that's a good time, anyway," Tony says, and for the first time since he let his mouth run, Bucky looks at him, really; oh my god, is he blushing? "No. No," he warns Bucky, and he knows he has to look amused now too at how mortified Tony looks. "You, don't start."

"Not a word," he says simply, quietly enough for only Tony to hear, and leans back in the incredibly comfortable airplane chair. "Besides. I'll make it up to you."

That shuts him up, in the best possible way. It is completely worth it to know, without looking, that Stark is absolutely wrapped around his finger, even after something that stupid.

Steve walks beside him as they head down the hallway to the ICU.

Hospitals are different now, too. No surprise there.

They say - whoever "they" are - that it's best to leave the past behind. Bucky knows he made the right choice when he risked it all to keep it alongside him, though, when he sees his little sister, all grown and then all small again, withered, but recognizable in spite of it all, with her untamed hair and bright and fresh flowers all across her bedside table in her favorite colors. She's hooked up to machines and gently wheezes away, but all he sees is one of the most important girls he left behind.

"Hey kid," he says, his voice strained, before he can stop himself. She raises her head, puzzled, only then laying eyes on him. She stares, and he thinks he might fall apart. "I'm... I'm here."

"You're..." Flossie wheezes. It sounds painful, and he wishes there was something, anything he could do. He can feel Steve behind him, just hurting with him, and somehow it helps. "You're not real."

"I'm real, Floss." Bucky goes to her side, and takes her hand in his right hand, squeezes it, pushes his hair out of his face again. "See? It's me."

"You died, Bucky," she says, reproachfully. "I'm not crazy. I'm not dying."

"You're not," he promises, and a slew of curse words rush through his head at once as he fights off the urge to cry, mostly unsuccessfully. "I'm really here and I'm not gonna leave."

"He's here," Steve confirms, quietly. "He's like me, Flossie. He came back."

Her eyes widen, and if he hadn't already been half in tears this would have done him in. He treats her gently as he can, pulls her close with only his right arm, and kisses her forehead. Her lips press to his cheek and he knows, now, that he is not just a weapon, and he never was.

"You aren't getting rid of me any time soon," Bucky promises his sister, and her smile is brilliant.

New York is New York is New York. It hasn't changed, not really, not at root, and the whole thing's amazing. Bucky walks, a lot, goes to all the places he used to haunt, to the places Flossie's kids and grandkids recommend to him when the visiting hours overlap. He buys food from food trucks, he gently takes pictures for tourists on the street, and he can't take in enough of it. There aren't enough hours in the day.

Tony calls him when he's got a handful and a half of Mexican food, and he struggles to get the phone out of his jacket pocket and open the screen to answer it. (Perils of having a superpowered metal hand; you can't swipe your touchscreen phone open with it, and there's the definite possibility of crushing the hell out of your burrito.) "Not a great time," he greets him.

"Is it ever? Look, I'm bored," Tony wheedles back. "Are you really so busy? Is this a family visit thing?"

Bucky pauses. "No," he admits. "You're just so far uptown."

"It'd be easier if you'd just crash here."

"I'm crashing with Steve," he reminds Tony.

"You are," Tony agrees with a sigh.

Bucky hesitates again, hating to bring it up. "Besides, don't you have..."

Now it's really tense. Shit. "Don't I have what?" Tony asks after a moment, with the usual fake cheer masking his worry.

He wishes Steve had never told him, or even implied it. "A roommate," he says.

Tony doesn't say anything for a long moment, and Bucky stares down at his burrito. "Can you come over?" Tony asks finally, plaintive.

"I don't know about today," Bucky admits.

"Please," Tony says, with such genuine gentle caution that Bucky doesn't hesitate to answer him.

"Yeah. I'll see you soon."

The subway ride is really, really long, if only because he's stuck in his own head with all these thoughts, and he can't manage to scratch an itch on his left shoulder through all the fabric keeping his arm covered. He looks up at the Avengers Tower, and makes himself go inside before he can think twice about it.

Proving that he's Bucky Barnes isn't all that difficult, and Tony gets him waved up the elevator easily enough. When the doors open, Tony's lounging with a drink in front of all his see-through screens, and looks up, somehow surprised to see him there. "Hey."

Oh, God. This is so weird. "Hey," he answers.

"I'd ask if you want a drink but let's not get into that," Tony says, comfortably filling the silence; the screens disappear into thin air and he stands, going to sit on a couch nearby. "Come on. Make yourself at home."

He takes a breath and releases it as he goes to sit by Tony. "So," he starts, distinctly uncomfortable. "Just us?"

"She doesn't live here. Technically. It's complicated." Tony's doing the thing where he's talking to get words out before he can second-guess himself, Bucky thinks, because he just keeps going. "You know I hate this part? The talking part. I'm not a total asshole, I am capable of working shit out and think about other people in this kind of thing, obviously, otherwise - anyway, the point is, I hate it, a lot."

"I'm getting that impression," Bucky says, mostly just to prompt him to keep talking, because he's clearly not done.

"It's why I don't really do it. It's why it's so weird that this is happening. I don't even know you. Comparatively, that's really fucking weird for me," he keeps on. "Because usually it takes me twelve years or something to even consider any - emotional - thing - " Wow, he can't even get the words out easily. Bucky bites back amusement. "And I can't believe I just admitted that," he finishes, astonished and a little horrified.

"Stark," Bucky says patiently, "heart of gold. I already knew that."

Tony presses his face into his hands. "I'm bad at this. This is the only thing I'm bad at."

"That's not even slightly true," he answers without missing a beat.

That gets a smile from Tony. "Fair enough," he allows, and manages to breathe. Somehow Bucky's the relaxed one here, when he was all nerves coming up the elevator; how did that happen? "Barnes. Bucky. Jesus, it's so weird. This is so weird."

"You've said," Bucky reminds him.

"No. I mean. My dad told me about you and Cap. All this shit." Tony sits back, at least trying to relax, or pretending to. "All the stories he could think of. I don't know if he was bragging or just loved Steve and Carter to death or something - he didn't seem to know you all that well. Did you..."

"No," he admits. "Didn't know him either. Not well."

"Like I've said, he had his asshole moments. Still. It's surreal. I have cards of you guys somewhere, my dad gave them to me when I was a kid. And you're here. Alive. And somehow this - " Tony gestures between them - "is happening."

"Did they bring back the Hays Code? Because I figured in the future things like this would be less vague," Bucky says dryly.

Tony pulls in a breath. "I can't believe I've kissed you, and I like you, and also desperately want to fuck you even though you could break me in half with that arm," he says. "And I know there are things complicating this. Like, uh. My 'roommate.' And maybe yours, too, I don't know. And I don't even know if there's a point in making a big deal out of it, because there's a big chance you're going to decide that I'm too big a pain in the ass after a while, so all the - talking - what's the point, we might as well just..."

"Screw behind your girlfriend's back," he finishes slowly, watching Tony intently.

"I wasn't saying that," Tony says instantly. "I wouldn't, it's not like that, anyway. Things are way more complicated than they were back in your time."

"I doubt that," Bucky says dryly.

"What I mean is Pepper and I - she and I, we have a thing." He raises his eyebrows at Tony, who presses on. "A thing where it's not always... me and her? Because things happen. People happen. No point fighting it if everyone's cool."

Bucky pauses. "She lets you..."

"And I let her," he says. "Albeit it doesn't happen often. She sort of runs my company while I do all the inventing, so."

That's going to take a while to sink in. "Make me a drink," he says to Tony, finally. "Just one."

"Gotcha," Tony says, clears his throat, and gets up. Bucky follows him, and looks at the bar when Tony opens it. "What'll you have?" he asks Bucky.

"Whiskey and water. Short." Tony makes the drink, and he leans against the kitchen counter as he waits. When Tony finishes, brings it to him, he swirls the glass and looks up at him, casually as he dares. "Don't know much about 2012," he says. "Is that gonna work?"

"It could," Tony says, eventually, and makes a face. "But it could be awkward."

Bucky smiles wryly. "Is it somehow more awkward than kissing the guy who you tried to kill accidentally, because otherwise I'm not feeling all that bad for you," he tells him.

"You were eyeing me up like a piece of meat the entire time you were awake," Tony says, in that perfect matter-of-fact deadpan that Bucky can't ignore. "It wasn't a surprise."

"I didn't want it to be," Bucky says, without missing a beat, and God, he's tempting. But they have to work this out, and he has to figure out how to explain his own side. "So, are you going to talk to her?"

Tony is a little speechless for a moment, looking back at him with dumb astonishment, then says, "God, yes," before going for his phone. "We still on for the gym?" he asks, offhand.

"Oh, yeah," Bucky says, probably too pleased with himself, but Tony's the best kind of nervous wreck only feet away and it's hard not to enjoy it.

As it turns out, the gym has to wait, because apparently Tony's girlfriend wants to meet him, and they take one of Tony's cars to her apartment building, where she's apparently working on... something? Who knows. This could just be weirder than breaking through Russian brainwashing with mad science in a base where international spies are fighting Shakespearean aliens. Bucky hasn't decided yet.

"It'll be fine," Tony says, after a minute of silence in the car.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Bucky asks rhetorically.

"She's great. She's fantastic," he says, defensive. "She's not that kind of woman."

"I - I wouldn't know," Bucky admits. "If women were doing this in my day they weren't telling me."

"They probably would have," Tony says easily. "You're hot as hell. Even with the hair band look."

"You know I don't know what that means yet," Bucky points out.

"It's okay," Tony reassures him, only a little dryly, and touches his hair. "I like the hair. The hair can stay."

"I haven't decided if it's going to. It's conspicuous. On the other hand, people are less likely to recognize me. I think I'm overthinking this, though." He looks at Tony, whose half-smile despite his obvious nerves is genuinely sort of sweet. "You really think I'm going to get sick of you?" he asks, while the curiosity outweighs his hesitation to ask the question.

"I'm an obnoxious, work-obsessed, vain pain in the ass. Yes, I think you will," Tony answers without missing a beat, and manages to avoidantly hold his gaze somehow.

"And I'm flawless, obviously," Bucky fires back in a good-natured deadpan. "Tony."

"Oh look, we're here," Tony says, obviously happy for the distraction and cheerful as a kid arriving at the candy store. He opens the car door before they even come to a full stop. "Hey, Roger," he says to the doorman, all upbeat, and hands him a tip. Bucky quickly follows before Tony outpaces him.

"You need to relax," Bucky says to him, as Tony hits the elevator button and crams his hands into his pockets.

"I'm completely relaxed," Tony assures him.

"If you think I buy that you're even more full of shit than you think you are."

There's a pause, then Tony actually laughs, and his smile, again, is fantastic. "You asshole."

Bucky grins. "From you I'll take that as a compliment. You sure you don't want to head up there first?"

"Yeah. I'll talk to her first. Uh, you can... take a phone call or something, maybe? Talk to her assistant? I keep forgetting if she has an assistant here," Tony admits.

"Can't leave me alone, right? I promise, I'm not going to take any silverware," he says. "God knows I have a hard enough time going through the metal detector."

He laughs before he can help it. "Jesus Christ. We're getting to you, aren't we? All the Avengers sarcasm."

"Steve and I had sarcasm down pat before your parents were even thinking about having kids," Bucky says blithely. "Still, it can't be helping."

The elevator pings, and they head up. Bucky takes a deep breath, and touches Tony's shoulder; Tony looks his way, with more than a little worry in his eyes. "Look," he says, "if this gets completely fucked up on us, just know, I'm sorry."

"I'll live," Bucky promises him. "Are you going to panic for the next ten floors?"

"Increasingly, probably," Tony says. "I'm serious."

He sighs, and puts his hands on Tony's shoulders. "I will kiss you, right now, on camera, and then the press will inevitably get their hands on it, and what then," he asks rhetorically.

"...I have no idea," Tony admits, looking up at him, "but I'm seriously considering letting you do it."

"Focus," Bucky tells him. Tony sighs heavily, and after a few minutes the elevator pings again, coming to a stop. The door opens, and... it's a residential floor, which is a surprise. "Why would she have an assistant at her house?" he asks Tony.

Tony shrugs. "What, you've never heard of a PA? I keep offering to make an AI for her but she doesn't seem to be interested."

"Do you guys speak entirely in acronyms now?"

"Well the Navajo wind-talker thing didn't stick."

It's not a long enough walk. They're in front of her door. Fuck, fuck, now Bucky's nervous too. He reaches to Tony and gently closes his gloved left hand around his right. Tony nods to him, exhales, and calms, at least trying to drop the façade some, for now. Then he knocks on Pepper's door.

"You have the key," a woman's voice calls out.

Tony pauses. "Do I?" he asks.

"I gave you a key," she says mildly.

"Let me look." He starts looking through his keys, and glances to Bucky. "This might be a minute."

"Where am I going to go?" There go his nerves again. "You sure about this?"

Tony looks up at him in plain disbelief, then tries one key, then another, in the door, until one works. He strides inside, and gestures for Bucky to follow. "Honey, I'm home, et cetera," he calls inside, "or is Don Draper more appropriate?"

"You're too neurotic for Don Draper!"

Bucky makes himself go inside. It's a nice apartment, unpretentious, and he doesn't know much about Pepper but this apartment, that deadpan, and the reins she has on Tony are all good signs. Probably.

"No need to clear a path through the paperwork, Super-CEO, I'm coming to you," Tony promises her, sends Bucky a quick, warm glance, and goes down a short hallway.

Bucky decides he's going to sit down and try to figure out texting again. He's not terrible at it, but he's not great at it, either, because touchscreens again. (At least he's figured out how to not shatter the iPhone with his left while texting with his right. On the subway. Jesus, that was embarrassing.) I am meeting Tonys girlfriend, he sends to Steve.

You are not, Steve sends back. Really?

We were talking. He told her, and she wanted to meet me. Ugh, he has to keep backspacing, and he's forgotten how to turn off autocorrect.

Well, I'll buy dinner and you can tell me everything.

Bucky sighs. You're not taking this seriously, he sends back.

I can't help it that you're in the most bizarre soap opera ever, Buck

Could be worse, he sends back. I could be stuck trying to figure out if Romanov is flirting with me like some people I know.

Ha ha ha, Steve sends back, and Bucky smirks to himself, but is startled back to himself when he can hear Tony and Pepper being sarcastic at each other much more clearly. He stands immediately, and sees her, and she's... a damn good-looking woman with an amazing smile, but the best part, admittedly, is just how at home Tony is right now beside her.

He's grinning. Yeah. Okay. He can do this.

"Pepper Potts," she says, and they shake hands. "I've read all about you. Do you know there's an authorized biography that says - "

Woah, wait. "Authorized?" That's funny as hell. He's going to enjoy talking to his grand-whatevers about this. "Who the hell authorized it? What's it say?"

"That you have great taste in men," Pepper says dryly. "Not sure what happened here, though." She indicates Tony.

"An astounding lapse in judgment, even from an amnesiac," Bucky explains to her, and looks to Tony, who is just boggling. "I like her," he adds.

This dawns on Tony, visibly, and it's hilarious. "Great," he says, then, slowly. Bucky tries not to laugh at Pepper's own stifled laugh. "You like each other."

"Deal with it," Bucky says smoothly. "Sorry, I need to know. Are we interrupting anything important?" he asks Pepper.

"God no, it's Saturday. I'm just clearing my desk. He doesn't know a real inbox pile when he sees one because he doesn't have an inbox," Pepper explains.

"Not a physical one, at least," Tony adds helpfully.

"I'm going to make some coffee. Everyone want coffee?" Pepper asks, looking between Tony and Bucky.

"I'd offer to hit up the Keurig but I'm terrified of what's going to happen when I leave you two alone," Tony admits.

"I'll show her my arm and steal her," Bucky says in a plain deadpan. "It's fine. Coffee would be great."

"Go do the Keurig then," Pepper says, sending Tony an expectant but teasing look. "You know how I like it."

"Oh, do I," Tony says dryly, casually grabs her ass, and goes to the kitchen before she can smack his arm.

"That man," Pepper says, in simple, satisfied exasperation.

"I have enough going on," Bucky says, by way of agreement. "I have no idea why I'm putting myself through this."

She sighs. "He's charismatic. He's sweet. And if he cares about you it's hard not to care right back."

"Are you talking about me?" Tony calls to them. "Why can't I hear you from here? This is not a good floor plan!"

"Oh, God," Bucky sighs, and presses his right hand to his face.

"You have to show me your arm," Pepper informs him. First, he thinks she's mock-serious, but she's serious-serious, and he starts laughing, embarrassed as hell, first pulling off the jacket and then his glove. "Wow. This is... a metal arm," she concludes, touching it, and he's uncomfortable actually with how much he doesn't mind how close she is to him. "Does it - oh, my god." She takes his hand and examines it as he curls his fingers. "That's amazing."

Tony stops dead with the two cups of coffee, and raises his eyebrows at Bucky, who just puts on an innocent smile. "Did you make this?" Pepper asks Tony, happily ignoring the look on his face.

"I helped make it work after it was under ice for a few decades," Tony concedes.

"That's a no," Bucky says dryly to Pepper.

"By the way, I was joking about the arm thing," Tony chides him.

"And I wouldn't worry about it. Pepper Potts doesn't seem like the kind of girl you can steal," Bucky teases back, and scratches his shoulder. "Besides. That's not how this works, apparently."

Pepper shoots a look at Tony as she goes to sit down on the couch, and delicately picks up her coffee mug. "It's a relationship involving Tony Stark," she says, not without fondness. "Time will tell how the hell it'll work, or if it even will."

For some reason, Tony's smiling. Bucky gets his coffee and kicks back.

Denying the insanity around him and in him doesn't seem to have done him any good thus far. Right now it's too tempting to just accept that these people are offering him this crazy solution, and it helps that he loves almost every part of it.

It's 2012. He left his life behind in 1941, only fragments of it are left, so, what does he have to lose?

They hold out for two weeks. More accurately, Tony holds out for two weeks.

It's all too natural, is the thing, despite their reservations. When they just stop thinking about every last implication, every last thing that could go wrong, when they're just together, they manage. They're fine. Better than fine.

What's amazing to Bucky about the first night they spend together is how Tony doesn't seem to know how to handle it at all. They don't drink, they don't party like assholes, there was no battle or danger or horrible adrenaline-pushing trauma before. He wants it, they want it, and that's why it's happening tonight, without all that bullshit to blame later.

It's quiet now that they've settled in. Pepper strokes Tony's hair, fondly, the soft folds of her dress falling across his leg as they lounge in his bed. His eyes are half-closed, languid, and he looks at Bucky with a careful question in his face. Bucky answers it with a kiss, brief but reassuring, and he runs his fingers across the arc reactor in Tony's chest. Pepper presses a kiss to his jaw, and whispers something into his ear so low Bucky can't even hear. Tony stirs, then, just slightly, looking up at him.

"You, uh," he says, faltering. Holy hell, they've reduced Tony Stark to stammering and the ménage a trois hasn't even really started yet. "If you want to - "

"No ifs," Pepper reminds him, gently. "We talked about this. It's okay."

"I want to," Bucky says, firm but patient. "Go on."

"She wants to see us." Tony pauses. "Try not to kill me with the arm."

Bucky pauses, too. "I told you, we could have had it taken off - "

Tony shakes his head. "No. Just. I adjusted some levels but it still weighs a hell of a lot."

The conversation catches up to him, though, and Bucky looks to Pepper. You want to... "Yeah," she confirms the question written all over his face. "That a problem?"

Bucky swiftly shakes his head, and meets Tony halfway for a kiss, and, Jesus. He's never had anyone watching before - well, he's never known anyone was watching, anyway - and it's weird in a self-conscious kind of way but also in a really sexy way that makes him want to kind of put on a show. This is the most intense they've let the kissing get, the furthest they've let their hands go, and Pepper isn't making a sound or saying a word but he can still feel her there, her touch gently on Tony's side.

He watches his left arm - and Tony was telling the truth, something's definitely been adjusted, and all for the best, really - but otherwise doesn't hold back, and there's a moment where Tony gives in completely, too, marked pretty pointedly by his attempt to peel Bucky's shirt off. He makes a sound against Tony's mouth and breaks the kiss to pull off the shirt, moving his face away from Tony's next kiss. "Hey Pepper," he murmurs. "What we take off, you take off. Only fair."

Tony pulls off his shirt, then, drawing a breath in quickly when Bucky runs a hand down his chest, and does his best to disguise it by raising his eyebrows at Pepper. "Yeah, Pepper. Only fair."

"I'm wearing a dress," she reminds them, matter-of-fact.

Tony leans in to kiss her, and, to Bucky's surprise, she allows it, and they share a long and lingering kiss that leaves her with what looks like a smile of concession. "Lose the dress," he says to Pepper and her smile, "and we lose the pants."

"I don't remember having a vote here," Bucky interrupts wryly.

Pepper shifts to gather the hem of her dress, then turns around to move her hair away from the zipper. "Gentlemen?"

Fuck. This is happening. Bucky moves forward, when Tony is still in what has to be permission. "No problem," he says breezily, and unzips her dress. She touches his left hand, and he can't feel it, but he can see the way her eyes close, and the vague lift of the corner of her mouth; he kisses her neck, once and again, half in gratitude.

"Thanks," Pepper says, breathing out slowly, shakily, and stands, letting the dress pool on the floor.

"She's amazing," Tony says, as she turns around, almost modest, and Bucky takes her in with complete admiration. "Isn't she?"

"Says the guy who's dated supermodels," she says.

"Shut up," he answers instantly, and the space between them, between all three of them, is so charged with sex and emotion and everything that it's... completely unlike anything Bucky's ever felt before. He knows he should maybe feel like he shouldn't be here, with these two people who love each other so much, but... somehow this is okay. It's better than okay.

"A deal's a deal," Bucky says, breaking the moment's pause, and undoes his jeans carefully as he can.

"Christ," Tony swears, and Pepper is giggling against his shoulder when Bucky looks up, a little paranoid.

"What?" he checks.

"I have no idea how he didn't jump you before this," Pepper confesses.

Bucky looks down at himself, then up at them, pulling off his jeans. "You need to lose the shoes and socks," he tells Tony.

"I wasn't going to bring my toes into this before I had to," Tony says, defensively. "That's not my thing."

"Yeah, well, untying your shoes isn't sexy right before the whole thing, either, and who wears socks during sex?" he returns.

Pepper is still laughing. "Are you really - "

"Are you telling me this doesn't bother you?"

"Well I wasn't going to point it out, but now that you mention it," she agrees.

Tony makes a face, and takes off his shoes, socks, and pants, and once he's standing there, just a gorgeous man with an arc reactor and a pair of boxers, Bucky kisses him again and again, soundly, until Pepper's hand works between them and Tony groans into his mouth as she strokes him.

"I like your style, Potts," Bucky murmurs, and he presses against Tony, who could not be more obviously taken aback by the dual-front sex attack he's getting (which is a little disingenuous for a guy who definitely wanted a threesome).

Pepper moves away from Tony's ear (her target for matter-of-fact sultry whispering he still can't make out, with the occasional nip or kiss at his neck), and puts a hand to Bucky's face to pull him into a kiss. She's fierce, which he shouldn't be surprised to note, but is for some reason. She bites his lip before releasing him. "Yours too," she says.

What the hell. This is completely amazing, and Bucky commits to it wholeheartedly. He kisses Tony again, just as harshly as Pepper kissed him, and he arches up against him, her touch, the heat of Bucky's cock - they're both starting to get hard. "Jesus," Tony breathes after a break. "Jesus, I know neither of you have done this, so - "

Bucky clutches Tony closer by the small of the back with his left hand, and the metal must be warming but still cool based on the way his back goes stiff, but he shudders and kisses Bucky, hard, and Pepper exchanges a look with Bucky before taking her hand off Tony's cock.

He presses his cock against Tony's, then, and they shift to find the sweet spot where their cocks can meet and brush through the boxers (which really need to go, honestly). This leads to the first time all night that Bucky loses his composure completely; Tony pushes him onto his back, splays his leg just slightly, and pushes his hips against Bucky's. His left hand grips Tony closer, instinctively, and Tony laughs in terror, arousal, or some mix of the two, but breaks the kiss and tries to breathe.

Bucky is trying to remember what it's like to be able to think, when Tony asks breathlessly, "Did that work for you, Miss Potts?"

He looks to her, too. Pepper's expression is completely unreadable, but in probably the best possible way. "Yeah," she says; she clears her throat and licks her lips, and Bucky knows he's ruined, now, at least for tonight, because all he wants to do is kiss both of their stupid mouths until their lips are bruised. "Bucky," she says, half-pleading, and he meets her gaze.

"This is the complicated part," Tony says softly. "Choreography."

"Scheduling," Pepper answers. "Logistics." She's searching Bucky's face for something, and he doesn't know what to say, but he's still trying to think. His brain's just not cooperating. "I just need someone to fuck me."

"Already?" Tony asks. "Don't we usually have a few opening acts before the headliner? Not that I mind."

"I've been thinking about this all day," she says. "Both of you. I am so ready."

Jesus, Bucky's never heard a woman say that, and he feels himself go even stiffer under Tony, who eyes him. "If you like dirty talk," he tells Bucky, "you're gonna love Pepper. And that's not even the half of it."

"You two should," Bucky says, finally finding his voice.

"Not the point. She wants to see your cock," Tony says swiftly. "I'll bet anything."

"Tony," Pepper says severely.

"Oh, careful, you just gave him another inch." Tony grins at Bucky as he climbs off the bed, and pulls off his own boxers. Bucky looks at Tony for a long moment - hell, he's fantastic - but then he gestures mock-impatiently for Bucky to get up, and he does, pulling down his boxers, and intently feels both Pepper and Tony looking at him.

"You seem kind of overdressed," Bucky says, finally, to Pepper, who smiles broadly. Tony snickers, and presses a kiss to Bucky's jaw as she sheds her bra and underwear. "What are we..." What's he supposed to do? Shit . Thinking is hard. Difficult.

"You're going to fuck Pepper," Tony says, and she nods, looking back at them, and Bucky cannot look away right now because her breasts are amazing. "After that we'll play it by ear. She's good at planning, and she can be really persuasive when the juices are flowing."

"Jesus, Tony," Pepper chides him, but doesn't look too offended. She offers a hand to Bucky, meeting him halfway on the bed, and draws him into a few tender kisses first, but both are less than completely patient. Tony lies beside them, giving casual suggestions of gestures and touches that make her make indignant gasps and keening sounds, and just as he's about to beg for permission, she's insisting, guiding his cock to her, and they fuck more harshly than the blood rushing through Bucky's ears and the intense joy inside him could ever imply. Tony is there, hard as a rock next to them, saying some of the filthiest shit Bucky's ever heard, nonetheless imagined, and when Bucky is right on the edge, he whispers "Do it" hot against his ear, and he shoves himself inside of Pepper as deep and hard as he can, capturing her mouth in a kiss and a half, before he comes inside of her, shuddering against her and Tony.

"Wow. Yes. Oh my god," she sighs, and rests her head back against the bed. "Oh God."

Bucky slips out of her, moves sweat-soaked strands of hair from his face with a brush of his fingers, and rests his head against the headboard, while Pepper and Tony share a short but sweet kiss, and Tony brings Bucky's face to his own to kiss him. "I know what we're doing next," he says after breaking from it, a glint in his eye. "So, you played baseball. Pitcher, or catcher?"

There's a pause, then Pepper hits Tony in the shoulder and starts laughing like a loon. "Oh my god," she says, "you are such an asshole."

Tony smirks at Bucky. "Well?"

Bucky considers the question, and steals a kiss from Tony's already wonderfully battered mouth. "Seems obvious to me," he says, "if you know what you're doing."

"Consider the gauntlet thrown, Tony," Pepper says, grinning devilishly.

Tony laughs, incredulous but plainly delighted, then pauses. "Christ, now that I think about it I'm not sure we have any lube," he says.

"Go look," Bucky says, and gives him the look that used to get him three dates a week. Tony folds like a card table, starting to rifle through drawers.

"How do you do that?" Pepper whispers.

"I'll teach you if I can manage it," Bucky whispers back, and kisses her again, lingering, and they exchange a grin.

He has the feeling none of this will make sense tomorrow. He can't bring himself to care.

Mid-2013

Flossie passes. He stays with her until the end, he gives her eulogy; she dies with a smile on her face and he'll miss her but he couldn't have asked for more from this.

Things are all right.

Inside his head... it's not like he's well, and it's not like everything's okay. Things don't suddenly work out like that. Bucky spends at least two days a week with Fitz or Cora or both or their "colleagues" who he naturally distrusts at first (who can blame him?), but eventually realizes he doesn't have much of a choice in it. When he avoids his treatment, when he doesn't show up or participate in the way they need him to - so much of it is "think of that, listen to this" some days - nothing happens, or things get worse. It's a joint effort, and it becomes harder and harder to deny that there are at least a handful of people in the world who want to help him, and who want more for him than a gun in his hand and a mission.

"I was lying before," he says to Cora, suddenly, as they're doing up the straps again. She pauses, a little alarmed, and he shakes his head to dismiss that implication before acquiescing to Fitz's attempt to put the visor on him. "Something's wrong. With Tony."

"Like what, dear?" she asks, and touches his right hand, taking his fingers softly into her palm. He exhales; it's a maternal touch, and these days he needs something simple and unconditional like that.

"He's not sleeping. I don't know for sure. Pepper doesn't think he is either, though. But he doesn't want to talk about it. Or anything. He's hiding again."

"Aren't we all, at some point or another?" Cora asks rhetorically, and smiles wryly at the face he makes. "Bucky. Just remember. Help can only be offered and taken, and unless both occur only some good may come of it."

Bucky lets his head drop to the back of the chair with a huff. "You're saying all I can do is wait for him to try to breathe?"

Cora considers that, and answers with her own questions. "Do you really think Tony Stark's going to let himself be pressured into answering personal questions? Even by - especially by - people he cares about?"

"Fine," he relents.

Fitz looks over the back of the chair at him. "Oh! We can do this without the psychotropics. Do you want them anyway?"

Bucky looks up at Cora, who says, "I know what he's implying but you should take them anyway."

He shrugs, and Fitz beams, excitably gesturing to Cora to get the syringe. He exhales, waits for Cora to inject him, and sends her a smile before he closes his eyes.

The next time he and Natasha spend her off-day being antisocial, he waits until she asks how everything is - which she never does unless she really wants to hear it - and her opinion seems to be the polar opposite of Cora's.

"Don't wait. Do something." Bucky eyes her, and she shrugs. "Just don't have sex with him," she says. "I know the type. He'll tell you eventually."

"I think that's the only thing keeping him sane right now," Bucky says, a little alarmed.

"Right. Without it he'll confess to whatever's going on," Natasha says mildly.

"Getting him drunk didn't help." Bucky drops his face into his hand. "Fuck."

"Does it help, knowing that this is your biggest problem right now?" she asks him wryly.

He sighs. "For now," he says. "You know it can't stay this quiet this long."

Natasha concedes that, and looks away. "Try to catch him in the problem, then. Whatever he's doing at night. Get JARVIS in on it."

"I have no idea how to manage that," Bucky says, lies down on his back on her bed, and makes a face.

She strokes his hair. "Ask Pepper. She's been teaming up with that thing for years. When are you cutting this all off?" she asks, seamlessly changing topics.

He raises his eyebrows at her. "I don't know."

"It's just. You look like Katniss Everdeen."

"Shut up," he says, and cracks a smile despite himself, and she smirks.

His phone goes off. "Careful, I hear those things aren't covered for metal arm damage," she says blithely, and he rolls his eyes at her before he grabs it to look at the text.

Don't like the look of this guy, Happy's texting him, along with an off-angle, blurry picture of a guy who is blond and could really be very, very good-looking. Bucky considers this, and hands the phone to Natasha. "What do you think?"

"That's Aldritch Killian," she says, and squints. "I think. Who doesn't know how to operate a cameraphone by now? Oh. It's Happy."

"Do we have something to worry about?" he asks Natasha, then, persisting.

She pauses, and offers him his phone. He takes it back and immediately starts to text Pepper and Tony.

Dinner tonight, I think.

He meets Natasha's amused (and a little concerned) gaze. "So. About Killian," he says. "Tell me what you know."

Natasha smoothes his hair. "Are you planning on starting something, Sergeant Barnes?" she asks, in her subtle, cautious but amused tone.

Bucky curls his left hand's fingers, and tenses the hand into a fist.

"Only if I have to."