Steve, it turned out, was remarkably speedy for an old guy.

After I checked Bucky's arm, we sat at the dining room table with our second helpings of Egg Cream. He kept shooting glances toward the front door of the apartment like it was offending him and I tried to think of something we could talk about. I thought maybe Steve would be a safe area of common interest and I was just about to ask for anything incriminating against him when the front door opened and in Steve strolled.

Next to me, at the table, Bucky let out a long breath of relief and relaxed, visibly. His shoulders came down, his frown disappeared, his eyes unpinched.

Yeah, he relaxed very visibly. I chose not to take it as a non-compliment.

"Hey," Steve said to both of us and came to the table carrying two paper-in-plastic bags in his hands.

Bucky's eyes narrowed. "Tell me you didn't carry those driving your motorcycle." His voice was flat and deadly and when Steve shrugged like maybe, yeah, he blew out a breath like a bull about to charge.

Just as I was wondering if there was time for me to get clear of the blast-field, Steve put his hands up in surrender, the bags hanging in mid-air a second or two before he set them on the table.

"I didn't. I didn't. I met the delivery guy in the lobby. I only carried them up the stairs."

Bucky blew out another breath, shoved his chair back, and pretty much stomped to the kitchen.

I was calculating the possibility of Barnes going "Winter" what with Steve's little stunt, but Steve was smiling, looking toward the kitchen, eyebrows lifted like he was waiting for something. And when Bucky called out, "I turned the heat up, take that jacket off and stand near the register," Steve nodded and smiled even more broadly like that was exactly what he'd been waiting for.

"He worries," he said to me. And he said it like it was the nicest thing in the world that a mythic assassin warrior was worried he might be cold.

"Somebody's gotta worry about you," Bucky said, coming back into the dining room with plates and forks and napkins. "It's not like you're doing an A+ job of it." He cocked an eyebrow at Steve. "You gonna take that jacket off or you need me to do it for you? 'Cause you're not getting any warmer standing around in a damp jacket."

"I've got it, I've got it," Steve said, still smiling and holding his hands up in surrender again. He unzipped the jacket and turned to the front room and Bucky set the plates and all down on the table a little too hard I thought. Not that I was going to say anything about it, of course. He swallowed hard a few times and his breathing sounded rough and he stared at the plates longer than seemed necessary. Long enough that I wondered if he'd gone somewhere else.

Then Cap asked from the front room, "Should I put some music on?" and Bucky straightened up like he'd been startled out of a reverie.

"Yeah, sure. Glenn Miller?"

"Yep."

Then Bucky turned to me, "Coffee? Milk? I won't make you keep drinking Egg Cream."

"No, I like the Egg Cream. Coffee sounds great, though, thanks."

He nodded, took the used glasses and turned to the kitchen, and flinched ever so slightly as the first strains of Chattanooga Choo Choo filled the apartment.

Steve came back to the dining room and started taking the containers out of the plastic bags. Chinese food. I wondered when he'd developed the taste for that.

"Aren't you supposed to be getting warm?" I asked. He smiled and looked toward the kitchen.

"Thanks for looking at his arm. It's been bothering him."

"There's some corrosive build-up on the wires. I should be able to take care of it pretty easily. It'll be as good as new."

Well, as soon as those words were out of my mouth, I regretted saying them, and the pinched look on Steve's face told me he was feeling the same way. And of course when I looked over Bucky was standing there with the coffee pot and cups.

Just as I was about to apologize, though, he said, "Hope it's better than new, 'cause 'new' kinda stunk."

He said it flat, unemotionally. I didn't know what to make of his tone, and Cap's continued pinched expression didn't reassure me. But Bucky's arm, that technology, that I was familiar with and confident in.

"Whatever it takes, we'll get your arm where you need it," I told him.

"Yeah, thanks. I'd appreciate anything you can do." He nodded and set the pot and cups down and retook his seat at the table, and all the while Steve watched every move he made.

"So, how're things at HQ?" I asked Steve when it didn't seem like anybody was going to say anything else.

He shrugged and sat down and sorted out the food containers, handing them around. "It's gonna take a lot of work, and there's a lot of trust to be regained, but we're making a start."

"Is Fury spitting nails?" I asked.

"The size of railroad spikes," Steve agreed. He opened his food, then bent his head for grace. "Bless us O Lord, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ our Lord. Amen."

I heard a soft 'amen' from Bucky's side of the table and I added a prayer of my own, not as much for the food as for what I was about to say, straight to Steve's face.

"So, tomorrow, I'm going to swing by and take Bucky out for some lunch, maybe some sightseeing, get some Christmas shopping done. If you need anything, make a list, we'll pick it up for you."

Cap's eyebrows went up so far so fast they nearly went into orbit. "Oh?"

"I need to get you a Christmas present," Bucky said.

"No, you don't need to," Steve argued back.

Bucky grumbled down to his food and stabbed at a slice of water chestnut with what seemed a particular force.

Maybe I was putting my foot into it, but I told Steve, "Fine, we won't get you anything, then," then turned to Bucky. "What time should I pick you up?"

"Uh – I – " and the mythic assassin warrior looked from me to Steve and back to me, stammering like he was afraid to answer. "I – uh –"

"Tony," Steve butted in.

"Ah – you already cut yourself out of this deal, Capsicle. I'm talking to Bucky."

Bucky was still glancing between us and stammering.

"I – uh – I don't know. What time – is there a good time? Any time works for me."

"Why don't we say nine? That'll give us a few hours to shop and see the sights before lunch."

"Yeah, sure, that's – that'll be –" he looked full on at Steve like he was waiting for some sign of permission, but Steve was glaring at me and didn't see him. "Yeah," Bucky finished, still with a hint of question in his voice. "Thanks."

"You bet. I'm looking forward to it."

Broken Bucky smiled at me and I smiled at Steve and Steve tried to light my brain on fire with his glare. But finally he sighed and attacked his fried rice instead of me.

"You're gonna get indigestion, eatin' like that," Bucky told him.

Steve turned to him and opened his mouth like he was about to say something rude then shut his mouth like he knew better and then turned to me.

"So, I didn't know you were in town," he said, trying for polite conversation and almost – not quite, but almost – making it. "How long you here for?"

"Yeah, I came down Tuesday. I was supposed to be hanging with Bruce today but something came up at the last minute and he said he had to go out of town. So, I was glad when Bucky called and invited me over."

Bucky looked up from being focused on slicing a spring roll with the side of his fork like he was surprised to hear his name. "I appreciate you coming over on such short notice. I appreciate –" He gave his left shoulder a shrug. "Everything you said."

"I'm glad I could help."

That got me a quick smile then he went back to slicing the spring roll. Steve though looked at Bucky like he was trying to see through him and I wondered what he was seeing. What he was looking at and what he was seeing in Bucky. Then Bucky looked up and they just both nodded at each other, as though some question had been asked and answered and all without saying a word.

Finally, Steve turned back to me.

"I'm glad you're here, too, Tony."