A/N: I really meant to have this uploaded in time for Christmas, but things didn't quite work out. Oh well.

Disclaimer: This is yet another Avengerkink prompt, so it's not entirely my idea.

It was late evening by the time he made it to the big, ugly building that the Avengers apparently called home.

He didn't care about the Avengers really, but Captain America was one of them and the captain was achingly familiar. Something in those earnest blue eyes and tousled blonde hair spoke to him. There was definitely a history between them, something he couldn't quite remember.

Bucky, the blonde had called him. He had simply been known as the Asset for as long as he could remember, but perhaps it had been his name once.

He was sure Captain America had another name, too. Long before he was ever a captain. He didn't know how he knew that, but it felt as certain as his heartbeat.

Which was why he was intent on finding out as much about the captain as he could. He didn't have a mission anymore, so tracking the blonde's movements gave him a sense of purpose. The more he learned about Captain America, the more he would learn about himself. And he desperately wanted to fill in the blank spaces in his memories.

So that was why he was currently standing outside the Avengers Tower in six inches of snow. It was the perfect opportunity to watch the captain interact with his team.

Most of the Avengers seemed to be in the den, watching something on TV. The captain was there of course, sitting beside the dark-skinned man and the red-haired woman he vaguely remembered fighting against in one of his previous missions. And sprawled out across the floor was a dark-haired man that also looked oddly familiar although he couldn't recall seeing him in action.

He forced himself to step back from the window. He didn't know much about the Avengers, but he was sure there were more than four of them. It wouldn't be good to have the rest of them sneak up on him while he was busy staring.

Circling around the side of the tower, he came across the dining room. It looked like everyone had just finished eating. There were still dirty plates sitting out on the table and half-empty casserole dishes. Most everything was pretty picked over, but there were still a few slices of ham on a platter and some meat left on the turkey carcass in the middle of the table.

He resisted the urge to lick his lips. It had been more than a day since he had eaten anything substantial. The streets were just too crowded to risk going out and rummaging for a few bites. He had managed to ignore the hunger so far, but seeing all the food spread out made him feel weak with want.

Maybe they would be willing to give him a few of the leftover scraps. He had seen the captain passing out water bottles and granola bars to all of the homeless beggars along his usual route. At this point, he was probably just as dirty and disheveled as they were, so hopefully he would get the same sympathetic treatment.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket only long enough to knock on the door. It was getting colder and colder outside by the minute. As soon as he got a bite to eat, he needed to head out to look for shelter. Observing the captain would have to wait for another day.

The door was opened abruptly and the dark-haired man stared at him with open-mouthed shock."Oh my god. It's you."

He jerked back. This had been a mistake. After all the damage he'd done, how could he expect anyone to take mercy on him, especially the very people he had fought? He was getting soft in the head and this weakness was only going to get him killed.

"No, no, no, it's okay," the man said hastily. "Steve! Steve, get out here."

And then the captain appeared in the doorway.

"Bucky," the blonde breathed.

"Hey, punk," he said and was immediately horrified. What was wrong with him? He wanted food, not a fight. But his mouth was operating on its own.

The blonde stepped towards him. He braced himself for the blow, but the captain just wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. "Oh, Bucky," he said. "I never thought I'd see you again. We looked everywhere for you, and we couldn't find you. But here you are."

"Steve?" he asked hesitantly.

"That's right." Steve's smile was blinding.

He was a little ashamed of how disappointed he was when Steve stopped hugging him. The man was just so warm and he could have basked in his body heat for hours. But once Steve stepped back, he started shivering again.

"Jesus, you're freezing," Steve said. "Let's get you warmed up inside."

"No, that's okay," he said quickly. "I can't stay."

Steve tipped his head to one side and regarded him carefully. "Where are you headed?"

He shrugged. Any place he could find to hide. An unlocked shed or condemned building, probably.

"That settles it," Steve said decisively. "You're staying with us."

He found himself dragged into the tower and the door closed behind him. He wanted to protest further but, oh, oh it was so nice and warm inside. After months of sleeping in garages and storage sheds, the tower felt heavenly.

Steve steered him into the den. "Nat, Sam," he said with a jerk of his head.

They rose from the couch.

He flinched and tried to back out of the room. They were really the last people he wanted to see and he was sure they felt the same.

Steve put a steadying hand on his shoulder."Nobody is going to hurt you," he said. "We just want to help."

"Yeah, man," Sam said. "All in the past. Any friend of Steve's is a friend of ours."

"Have a seat," Steve said, practically pressing him down into the couch. "Sam, grab Bucky a blanket off my bed. Natasha, see if you can salvage some of the broth for soup."

He sighed with relief as the two disappeared to carry out their missions. But the dark-haired man still lingered in the room, staring at him openly. He really did look familiar, but something about his face was a little off, not quite the same as the image in his mind.

"Looks familiar, doesn't he?" Steve asked with a smile.

"Maybe," he admitted.

Steve squeezed his shoulder. "Do you remember Howard? Howard Stark?"

He shook his head.

Steve's smile wobbled. "Well, Tony is his son."

His eyes flicked back to Tony, who was looking at them with a thoughtful frown.

"He doesn't like to talk about his father much," Steve confided in a whisper. "He was..."

"Hydra," he said, a shiver going down his spine.

"No," Steve said firmly. "Nobody here is connected with Hydra."

"My dad was a lot of things," Tony said quietly. "But he wasn't Hydra."

"See?" Steve said. "You're safe here, Buck. Nobody's going to hurt you again."

At that moment, Natasha padded in with a large bowl of shredded turkey in broth and he lost all interest in the discussion. The smell made his mouth water and his stomach rumble. Hot meals were a luxury for him. Even back in the Hydra home base, he usually had to make do with army rations and anything that could be eaten straight out of a can.

He curled his hands reverently around the bowl when she handed it to him. The spoon was unnecessary. He just tipped the bowl up to his mouth and gulped it down. He probably should have eaten slowly, just in case she had poisoned the food, but he was too hungry to care. If he died, at least he would die with a full belly.

"Where's Sam?" Steve asked. "Bucky needs his blanket."

Tony snorted. "He probably got lost. I better go look for him."

"It's okay," he said quietly. "I don't need a blanket." He could already feel the warmth spreading down to his feet. It was a good feeling.

"Nope," Tony said. "Nobody in my Tower will ever have to go without. I'm getting you a blanket. Hell, I could grab you fifty blankets if you want."

Steve rolled his eyes. "He's not going to end up with any blankets if you keep standing around talking about it."

"Okay, okay," Tony said. "I'm going." He padded out of the room and then poked his head back around the corner. "Should I bring fuzzy socks and slippers, too?"

"Blanket, Tony," Steve said firmly.

And this time Tony actually left.

"Is he always like this?" he asked.

"Don't mind him. He's a little overbearing at first, but he grows on you after awhile." Steve smiled fondly. "Tony will make sure you'll have everything you want, and a couple things you never knew you needed. You'll never have to worry about any of the things we had to back in the 40s. I think you'll really like it here, Buck."

He could only remember brief flashes of his youth. A much tinier Steve in a threadbare coat, shivering in front of a fire. Standing in line with a handful of his ration stamps to buy Steve a new pair of shoes.

It was nice to know he'd never have to worry about Steve again. He was big and strong and healthy now.

Tony returned with blankets and pillows piled in his arms. Steve sighed, but he untangled the wad and began spreading blankets over the couch.

"Feeling better, Bucky?" Tony asked.

"Yes," he said. Somewhere along the line, his boots had gotten worked off and replaced with a pair of thick socks and he wriggled his toes happily.

Steve stared at the boots. "These things are falling apart," he said. "It's a wonder your feet haven't gotten frostbitten. We definitely need to get you new shoes first thing."

"We need to get him new everything first thing," Tony said. He brightened. "How about you let me hook you up with a new wardrobe, Bucky? Steve has all the fashion sense of a turnip and he refuses to let me buy him anything besides khakis, but you'll let me update your style, won't you?"

"Umm," he said, looking at Steve for reassurance.

Steve put his head in his hands.

"I'm taking that as a definite maybe," Tony said. He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I can't wait to get you into some t-shirts and jeans. Jarvis, to the lab. We've got stylizing to do."

He blinked as Tony took off for the elevators.

"Again," Steve said, "he means well. But you can tell him no if he's driving you nuts."

"It's okay," he said. "I probably do need new clothes if I'm staying here. Everything is so nice and clean." He looked down at himself and grimaced. He was probably dripping snow and mud all over the couch.

"We'll get you cleaned up," Steve assured him. "A nice hot shower might feel good, too."

He nodded eagerly. There was months' worth of grime he really needed to scrub off.

"Alright then. I'll take you up to my floor."

Steve had his own floor? Amazing.

The elevator traveled up three stories and the door opened onto another den. The television wasn't quite as big as the one downstairs, but there were a large blonde man and a shorter man playing a videogame while another man in a sport coat appeared to be refereeing.

"This is Thor, Clint, and Agent Coulson," Steve said.

"Greetings, friend of our Captain," Thor said cheerily. "You will excuse me for not conversing with you further, but I cannot rest until I have beaten Clint in single combat."

"In your dreams," Clint muttered, furiously pressing buttons on the controller.

Coulson rose from his seat and extended a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Barnes. I've read your file, of course. You did a lot of great things during the war."

"He probably has trading cards of you, too," Clint muttered. "He collects that kind of thing."

Coulson cleared his throat. "I'm sure Captain Rogers will do an excellent job helping you adjust, but if you need any help, give me a call. I know a couple psychologists and medical personnel that would be happy to assist in your recovery. Anything we can do to try and make things right."

"Thank you," Steve said. "Right now all he needs is a hot shower and some rest, but I'll let you know when he's ready for more."

"Of course," Coulson said. "If you'll excuse me." He held out a hand. "Barton, we agreed that this was cheating. Hand over the controller."

"How do you know I cheated?" Clint demanded. "You weren't even watching."

"Ignore them," Steve said. "They'll be at this for awhile." He steered him into a room set up like a hotel suite with a bed, coffee table, couch and a mini TV. "This is where you'll sleep for tonight, if you think you'll be comfortable here."

"Absolutely," he said. How could he be uncomfortable in a king size bed?

"And the bathroom's through here." Steve pushed open a door leading to a large shower stocked with a wide array of soaps and shampoos.

"Thanks."

He shut the bathroom door and peeled off his dirty old clothes. The shower was a little more complicated than what he was used to, but as soon as he figured it out, he turned the heat up almost to scalding and washed and washed and scrubbed. He felt a little guilty for taking such a long shower, but as Steve had said, Tony had enough money to provide for everything he could imagine. So he was going to enjoy the hot water for just a little longer.

When he got out of the shower, there was a pair of flannel pajamas laid out across the bed.

"Clint's letting you borrow these for the night," Steve said.

As Steve began setting up bedding on the couch, he quickly changed into his pajamas and settled onto the bed. The mattress was amazingly soft. If only he could live in such luxury all the time.

"If you're cold, I can grab an extra comforter from one of the spare rooms," Steve offered.

"No, this is good." He pulled the blankets up to his chin.

"Okay, then." Steve laid down across the couch. "Night, Bucky," he said. "I'll be right here if you need me."

He curled up in bed and closed his eyes, waiting for Steve's breathing to even out.

As soon as Steve fell asleep, he needed to move on. The Avengers had already done more than enough for him. He didn't need to suck up any more of their hospitality.