AN: wasn't quite sure how to end this, but I suppose this is as good as any. I love when people can be well and happy. Hope you have enjoyed this little cathartic experience. :)

It's always the lingering question in everyone's minds —when are you going to tell Steve?"

Honestly, Bucky's waiting until he can get a handle on this never ending grief, and this cycle of blame he puts on himself. Until he can say that he knows himself, until he can say that the man he is now still feels some of that same friendship for the man he knows as Captain America.

He'll never really be the same Bucky Barnes; he has seen and done too much that comes back to haunt him in the middle of the night. But he's not the Winter Soldier anymore. He's got to be someone who can accept both parts of his identity into a whole (without losing it, hopefully).

He's still waiting on that part, though.

But it ends up not mattering, because Steve finds him anyway.

Bucky has started going to the Smithsonian exhibit to read the plaques and look at the pictures, to try to connect solid historic fact to his own fluctuating memory. This particular day Steve is there too, and he spots Bucky under the baseball cap and hoodie right away. Bucky freezes, but he's surrounded by a crowd of people and there's nowhere to go, even if running out wouldn't cause a commotion. So he stays where he is, and waits.

"Bucky," is the only thing Steve says before pulling him into a hug.

Bucky freezes, limbs twitching, wondering why this feels so odd and familiar at the same time. And then, like a snapshot almost, he can remember hugging a shorter man.

"Don't do anything stupid 'til I get back."

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

"Oh," he mumbles, and Steve pulls back, staring at him in concern.

"You okay?"

Bucky says, for lack of anything better to say, "You used to be shorter."

Steve blinks and grins widely. "Well if that's all…"

"Hey, Bucky," Clint says as he comes through the door. "Oh. Hey Steve."

Steve makes a face at Clint. "I hear everyone's met Bucky but me."

"Ha, ha," Natasha says, flipping through channels on the couch by Clint's side. "What an overstatement."

Steve perches on the armrest and punches her arm. "You told Tony before you told me."

Nat shrugs. "It was Bucky's decision."

"I had some things I had to work out," Bucky says in a low voice, glancing at Steve.

"I know," Steve says. He pitches his voice louder. "I'm just giving you a hard time, Romanoff."

"That's your definition of a hard time?" she asks incredulously.

"You stayin' for supper?" Clint asks, getting up from the couch. Obviously Steve and Nat were devolving into one of their famous snark battles. Which, depending on the mood, could last ages. Clint knew; Natasha used to do it to him, too.

"Who's cooking?" Steve replies.

"Me. I'm doin' burgers."

"Sure, I'll stay. So really, how many people did you tell?" Steve turns back to Natasha.

"Us, Pepper, Tony… I guess Maria probably knows," Nat ticks them off on her fingers. "We're trying to figure out some way to combat the brain washing. Get some memories back."

"How's that going?"

Nat shrugs. "Not fabulous. But now that you know, we can have Sam meet Bucky, see if the therapy angle might help."

Clint digs through the fridge to find the hamburger meat.

"Need any help?" Bucky asks.

Clint, one arm full of meat, shoves the condiments under his chin and in his other hand. "Can you grab the pickles?"

Bucky pulls the mayonnaise out from its precarious place wedged under Clint's chin and grabs the pickle jar on the top shelf of the fridge. Clint kicks the door closed. "Thanks. Do you want to grill? I'm going up to the roof."

"Bucky, for the love of God, grill the burgers," Natasha calls. "I don't want to eat charcoal."

"That was one time!" Clint exclaims. "Once!"

"I'll never let you live it down," Natasha says, picking up a magazine and flipping through it. "It was like chewing a briquette."

"Your burgers are safe with me," Bucky says, and maybe for the first time, openly smiles.

They all end up dragging Clint's sorry lawn chairs up to the roof. The guys gather around the grill, debating the best way to get the most out of your meat, and Natasha makes snarky comments from her place on a busted chaise lounge while Pepper and Sharon smirk. She called them when it seemed like dinner was turning into a party.

Tony flits back and forth between groups, wanting to be a part of everything and refusing to be left out of either conversation. Clint collapses by Natasha and gives up, sipping from a beer bottle and watching with interest the conversation between Bucky and Sam get louder and louder.

They don't like each other, and everyone can tell. There is some serious side-eyeing, and frowning happening over the grill, and Steve looks like he isn't sure whether to referee or bust a gut laughing.

"It's like watching two kids squabble in a sand box," Clint mutters to Nat, much more on the bust-a-gut-laughing side of things himself.

"It's refreshing, though," Nat says with a smirk. "Bucky looks a lot more confident."

"You think Sam's doing it on purpose?" Clint asks, twisting around to look at her.

"No," she chuckles. "I just think it's helping. Nothing wrong with a little conflict. What are they talking about now?"

"Burger seasoning." Clint raises an eyebrow over two grown men holding little bottles of herbs and spices and shaking them emphatically at each other.

"Aww, look at Steve," Sharon coos, "He finally cracked."

Sure enough, there's Steve, grinning like a loon watching his two best friends fight over food. And they've caught on now and have both turned on him with expressions of aggrieved betrayal.

The group cracks up, and Tony, having an innate sense of when people are having fun without him, sidles over. "So has our fearless leader asked you out yet, Carter?" Tony asks, peeling a clementine orange.

"I'm giving him a little while," Sharon says, leaning back and propping one hand behind her head. "He's had a weird month."

"Because I'm sure we could arrange to lock you two in a closet somewhere for a few hours, see what happens —"

Tony is booed by all the women. "Let Steve do his thing, Tony," Pepper admonishes him. "It took you long enough." She shoots him a look. The look says, you took your damn sweet time and you know it.

He holds up his hands in surrender. "Forget I asked." He looks around the roof. "You know, the next time we do this, we should get Banner and Thor in on this."

"And Jane," Pepper reminds him. "You met Jane, remember?"

"Right! Science chick, Einstein-Rosen bridge, loud assistant."

"Darcy," Sharon supplies.

"Right. Like a family get together… thing." Tony frowns. "Except maybe at our place next time? Not in the middle of hellhole Bed Stuy?"

"Hey," Clint snaps. "What's wrong with Bed Stuy?"

They all stare at him. "I'm going to pretend you didn't ask that question," Tony says, rolling his eyes.

"Burgers are done!" Steve yells.

"Good," Nat says, standing up. "I'm hungry. They better not be cooked to death!" she hollers back. "Surely no one could pull your stunt off twice." She tugs on Clint's arm to lever him out of the chair.

He stands and slings an arm around her shoulders. "Well, you never know until you try."

She elbows him in the ribs. "Hush, you."

They wander over to the checkered-covered picnic table behind the others and join in the laughter, smell the summer air, and listen to the clink of bottles being shared among friends, people who aren't all the way whole, but happy.