Bucky plopped heavily onto the couch and threw his feet up onto the coffee table. He balanced a big bowl of popcorn shaken in dry mustard on his lap and set a tall glass of chocolate milk onto the end table, mindful as always that there was a coaster under the glass. "Hey, JARVIS, put on "Cosmos" for me, please?"

The television screen illuminated, already on the proper channel. "Cosmos" will not begin for another six minutes and fifty-eight seconds. Will you be viewing alone again this evening?"

"Yup," he said, flipping a kernel of popcorn into his mouth. Science wasn't Steve's thing, and the show was much too basic for Bruce to sincerely enjoy. Clint and Natasha were always throwing out bad impressions of Neil deGrasse Tyson, which were sometimes funny, but mostly just irritating. Tony was on a "Game of Thrones" binge, and claimed that he didn't want to alter the "purity" of his experience, or some nonsense. But Bucky had a lot of knowledge to catch up on, and in some ways he preferred to just embrace his inner nerd by himself. He blamed Bruce, and his first glimpse of Saturn through the telescope for that. "I can't believe there's so much I didn't know," he said. "I doubt I would have cared about this stuff before, but now…well, I don't know why, but I can't get enough."

"I suspect that learning was always something you valued."

"Nah. Steve was the intellectual. I had all the charm and good looks."

"Obviously."

His ears picked up a sharp "thwip," and he reacted instantly, diving for cover behind the tall arm of the couch. One of Tony's "splatballs" was stuck to his collar and was seeping luminescent sludge in a thread over his shoulder. If he hadn't moved so quickly, the ball would likely have caught him between the eyes. Bucky's cell phone rang with the cackling ringtone that told him right away who it was. He answered with a growl. "Really, Barton? Now?"

"Now, Grasshopper."

"My show's coming on!"

"Here, I'll help. Snape killed Dumbledore."

Bucky laughed, letting his startled surprise drain away. No one else in the tower really understood the silly search-and-destroy game that had evolved between Clint and Bucky, but then maybe only snipers could appreciate it anyway. "All right. Ring the bell, school's in," he said, giving the code that signaled the official start of the round. Clint chuckled, and the call dropped.

Bucky stayed crouched behind the makeshift cover, and extended his senses. Clint was likely on the move to a prepared nest with a defensible perimeter. He couldn't hear any movement, but he didn't expect to unless Clint made an uncharacteristic mistake. His eyes roamed the room in the direction of where the splatball had come. Clint was perfectly capable of ricocheting a shot, but he hadn't heard anything but the initial report. But his trained eyes caught a tiny detail. One of the decorative switch plates had a screw missing. Aha, he thought with a smile. You were in the wall. You shot me through that hole.

He reached into his pocket and carefully assembled his launcher. Tony had created the degradable splatballs and launchers after spitballs and modified drinking straws had begun to appear randomly around the tower. Bucky thought that he might have a surprise for Clint, though. Tony had owed him a favor, and had made some substantial muzzle velocity and range improvements to his launcher. Dirty pool for most games, but snipers always played to win.

Bucky checked his watch. If he worked fast and surpassed his personal best time in hunting Clint down, he would be able to get back before the show started. He took a few precious seconds to think about where Clint could have moved from his given initial point. He hadn't heard the elevator, and no doors had opened. With silent care, Bucky removed a vent from the lower part of the wall, and contorted himself through the small opening. The ventilation space was cleaned regularly, but there was always some thin dust right around the intake. There were very faint disturbed prints where Clint's elbow had brushed the sheathing. Gotcha.

Oh yeah, this was going to be a personal best.

JARVIS monitored Bucky as he slid through the ventilation shafts in stealthy pursuit. The computer had never completely ceased observing him since the process had been initiated almost a year ago, but had gradually lowered the priority as the need had lessened. Bucky's heart rate and breathing were slightly elevated, but no more than would be expected for a young human male who was having fun. He still occasionally had nightmares, and there were times when he needed to just lie quietly on his bed and clutch his book to his chest. And even though JARVIS doubted he still needed it, Bucky always slept with the lights dimmed to one quarter. But there were also times like this, when Bucky could enjoy chasing Clint through the walls of Stark Tower, or sit with Steve and try to remember good things.

As far as it was given for an Artificial Intelligence to feel pride at all, JARVIS was proud of Bucky.

Last chapter :) Thanks for sticking with it this far. I don't think I'll do another of these anytime soon, unless I come up with a really compelling idea. Or if I come up with another bit that fits with what I've already done here, I might tack it on. But this is the end of "Simple Coversation."

Oh, and I swore I wouldn't use this phrase at any point during my story, so I'll indulge myself now. "Kicked puppy, kicked puppy, kicked puppy" *sob*