Two weeks later...

"You sure you're ready for this?" Bucky asked Steve as the elevator doors slid open to reveal the door to the Tower penthouse.

"Absolutely," Steve replied as he cautiously stepped forward, mindful of where his right leg was at. He'd just gotten off crutches three days ago and his knee was still encased in a hinged brace while it learned to be weight-bearing again.

He had been released from the hospital as Helen predicted but, after his lung was deemed healthy enough to handle the anesthesia, had had to go back into surgery five days later to repair his torn ACL, MCL and lateral and medial menisci. Until that time though, he had been in a wheelchair since the combination of the gunshot wound, the punctured lung and the dislocated shoulder made it impossible for him to work crutches or a walker. This had made Bucky and Steve's first few days at the Tower ones of great adjustment for many reasons, but namely Steve struggling to remain independent despite all his injuries.

The first example of this going poorly was Steve begging for a proper shower the first night back at Tower. As he still wasn't allowed to put weight on his right leg, Clint had hauled an outdoor chair from the helipad into Steve's bathroom for him to sit on under the spray. The Captain insisted he could manage from there but, after his shoulder had almost slipped out of its socket when he raised it above his head, he was forced to sit resignedly in his swim trunks while Bucky shampooed his hair for him.

It was obvious from the way Steve acted for the rest of the night that he hated all of this: relying on others to help him, his inability to do even the simplest of tasks, and the helplessness and vulnerability of being so dependent on other people. All this reminded him too much of his past and the many days he'd spent laid up in bed recovering from yet another illness, wondering if this was the one that did him in.

The team all understood what Rogers was going through to some degree as none of them were particularly good at convalescing and, before Bucky could even mention the shower incident, they'd already gone out of their way to build temporary ramps over the small staircases and move all the items Steve might want to lower shelves, thus limiting the possibilities he would have to frustratedly ask for someone's help. Despite all their efforts, they also made sure someone was always around, should Steve actually need one of them.

The second adjustment was working for Bucky as well, since his healing abdomen and shoulder juncture still didn't allow him the range of motion to which he was accustomed. He'd thought that it was just coincidence that everything he liked was now on a lower shelf, since they were foods that Steve enjoyed too, until he'd discovered his favorite spread (the hazelnut chocolate one which was far too sugary for Steve's liking) there as well. He'd stared at the jar for longer than normal, knowing that it meant the team was looking after him as well. It had been two years since he'd decided that he deserved a second chance and things like this, where people went out of their way to show that they didn't mind his presence, still made his chest feel sort of weird and fuzzy.

The last big adjustment for the two of them was the copious amounts of free time in their schedules. While on missions or other SHIELD business, they were used to running insane 14+ hour days. Now though, their time was now filled with physical therapy appointments (and respiratory therapy for Steve), check-ups, then a whole lot of nothing. While it had been daunting at first, they'd both quickly come to realize that they needed the rest and learned to enjoy the movie watching, book reading, puzzle doing and all around relaxing, in between long, restoring naps.

It wasn't long after Steve's knee surgery that the good news began. Steve's right shoulder had healed enough that the physical therapist okayed him to begin doing things on his own again and, less than eighteen hours after that, Bucky was officially cleared by Helen for active duty. His healing factor wasn't quite as good as Steve's but his body had had less to contend with in the wake of the accident. The contusions, cuts and major symptoms of his concussion had been gone within days; the juncture of his arm was healed in less than a week; and he was hoping the bullet wound and cracked ribs, which were mostly mended though they still ached if he moved too quickly or stretched too far, would be quick to follow.

While Steve's biggest struggle had been with his physical limitations, the nightmares were the worst part for Bucky, the "what ifs" about Natasha not making it in time running rampant and bringing back a host of unwanted recollections. He did his best to keep them from his friends, not wanting their judgment (which deep-down he knew he wouldn't see but couldn't get himself to rationalize) or their pity. He wasn't always successful though and had more than once woken someone else in the throes of a nightmare. Finally, after one such incident which left him and Sam in the kitchen at 3 AM sucking down cold cups of coffee, Wilson had convinced him to write his memories down, both the good and the bad. Though initially reluctant, he did as Sam suggested and found that it helped a little. It showed him that the good memories far outweighed the bad and that the act of acknowledging his past actions seemed to make those recurring nightmares less frequent.

All in all, both boys from Brooklyn were well on their way to recovery.

As if on cue, Steve and Bucky both straightened up, a habit from long ago that'd never been broken, then knocked on the door to the penthouse suite.

A split second later, the door swung open revealing Pepper wearing a gorgeous red dress, her hair stacked on top of her head in an elegant up-do.

"We're underdressed," Steve immediately stated, suddenly self-conscious in his khakis and light blue, short-sleeved button-up. Next to him, Bucky was wearing dark jeans topped with a clean white undershirt beneath a dark leather jacket.

"Nonsense," Pepper exclaimed as she stepped to the side and motioned for them to come in, somehow without spilling any of the very full martini glass in her hand. "You both look wonderful. We're so glad you could make it."

"We're sorry you had to reschedule in the first place," Steve replied, shifting his stance uncomfortably.

"Oh hush you," Pepper quickly replied, pulling him into hug and kissing his cheek and leaving a smudge of lipstick as she did so. Bucky allowed himself to be pulled into a (thankfully) much-shorter hug but did openly scowl as he rubbed off her lipstick with the back of his hand.

Then Pepper took a step back and eyed them both critically, noticing how Bucky had gelled his hair back from his face while Steve had shaved off the beard he'd let grow over the last few weeks and spiked the top of his hair in its usual style instead of letting it lay limp. It was the most "normal" either of them had looked in a long time.

"Do you need anything else on your floor or in the therapy room?" she continued in lieu of commenting again on their appearances. "We could always—"

"Everything is fine," Bucky interrupted gently. "We can't thank you enough for all you're doing for us."

Pepper just fixed him with a look, silently reminding him of her answer when they'd had this discussion a few days back. It took a moment but then he nodded his gratitude.

"Shall we?" she asked, motioning toward the common area with her martini glass.

After both Steve and Bucky nodded, they set off toward the common area at a slow pace so Steve would be able to keep up.

"Is that the famous dip?" Pepper asked en route, tilting her head at the large tray Bucky was carrying.

Barnes nodded. When he'd found out that Tony had rescheduled the party, he'd again volunteered to bring the 11-layer dip, determined to recreate the one they'd eaten at Sam's party. Because Steve could only walk in short bursts though, they caved to the marvels of the 21st century and had the ingredients delivered. He'd followed the most-likely recipe on the Internet perfectly but it had been so terrible that Steve had practically diven for the carton of milk and drank almost half of it before stopping for breath. After reordering the main ingredients, Bucky had then been forced to improvise, augmenting the recipe to improve the taste. Finally, after the fourth batch, he'd managed to find a combination that was almost as good as the one they'd eaten at Sam's party.

"And what are those?" Pepper inquired, motioning to the box Steve was holding.

"Chocolate chip cookies," Rogers grinned, waving the box in front of her face so the scent could permeate, knowing they were her favorite. "Fresh baked."

"I knew there was a reason we invited the two of you," Pepper laughed.

By this time, they had just reached the main room where the extended team and their significant others were milling around, engrossed in conversation. "Look who I found!" Pepper announced, gesturing at the two supersoldiers.

Seconds later, the partygoers mobbed around them and Steve and Bucky were passed from hug to hug, amidst the many "You both look great"s, "Glad to see you up and about"s, "How are you both doing"s and, from Jane's intern whose name Bucky still couldn't quite remember, "Why on earth did you let him shave?". Even though most of the team had been around for a majority of their recovery process, they did all have their own jobs to attend to and were gone more often than not. Besides, this was also the first time he and Steve had been to this area of the Tower for reasons that didn't involve physical therapy or forced relaxation.

As the crowd let up, Sam stepped forward, shaking Steve's hand in their way that ended with clasped fists pointing finger guns at each other before pulling him into a side-hug. "Good to see you without crutches!" he exclaimed before he turned to Barnes. "I'm liking the hairdo," he added as he mimed running his fingers through his hair.

"You wish you had hair as nice as mine," Bucky shot back with a wide grin.

Sam shrugged. "No argument here," he responded, which sent the rest of the crowd into a collective nod of agreement.

"Please excuse the interruption," JARVIS' voice resonated from the ceiling. "But dinner is ready. I've been informed it is not as good if you let it cool."

"You heard the man," Tony said, leading the way into the dining area which was set with more flatware, utensils and glasses than Bucky had seen in any one store.

Dinner was as wonderful as the AI had implied, though Bucky had yet to eat a meal prepared by the SI chefs that wasn't amazing. Though everyone complained they were too full for dessert, the dip disappeared very quickly, along with the cookies and the other sweets the guests had brought.

Afterwards, most of the team sat down at the recessed area to catch up while Sam talked Steve into a game of pool. Though Steve usually won these games handily, Sam was convinced that Steve's limited mobility would garner him an advantage. They'd asked Bucky to play too but he knew better than to challenge Steve in a game based on physics and angles. He lassoed Clint into playing for him instead, knowing the archer would level the playing field, and leaned against the bar, not wanting to join the main conversation lest it turn to his recovery and how well he was doing. The sentiment was nice but he more appreciated just being part of the group again, as if nothing had happened.

He popped the top off a beer with one of the plates in his hand then sucked it down while watching Steve hop around the pool table on one leg, his left hand never leaving the wooden edge and Clint and Sam instinctively and not-so-subtly migrating toward Steve's side of the table in case he fell.

Despite that, it was the most fun Bucky'd seen any of them have in weeks.

"He's going to be fine, you know," Natasha said from right beside him. Barnes fought back the urge to jump in surprise and instead shifted positions nonchalantly, as if he'd heard her approaching.

"I know," he fired back, taking another long pull of his beer.

She arched one eyebrow at him in disbelief. "Then why are you staring at him like he's going to spontaneously combust?"

"I am not," Bucky replied indignantly. After a second to review his situation, he scowled. "Okay, maybe I am," he conceded.

"C'mon Bucky." Natasha linked her arm in his and led him to the sitting area, where the rest of the partiers were gathered. "I've got just the thing."

"Bucky wants to lift Mjölnir," she announced as they stepped inside the couch barrier. The rest of the conversations instantly stopped, all eyes turning to the two newcomers.

Biting down the panic that flared within him, Barnes held up his index finger, signalling that he needed a moment, and spun in the other direction, taking Natasha with him since their arms were still intertwined.

"I what?" he hissed as soon as their backs were to the other guests.

"C'mon," she whispered back. "It'll be fun. Get your mind off all this, even if it's just for a little while. Besides, no one has lifted it yet and I want to see how Thor reacts if you did."

"But I'm not worthy."

She shot him a calculating look. "That's not for you to decide, is it?"

It was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard (with all the people he'd killed over the years there was no way he'd be worthy) but she narrowed her eyes slightly at him, daring him to argue with her. "Sure. I'll try to lift the thing," he deadpanned after a pause, more for her enjoyment than his.

Her face immediately brightened. "Great!" Then she spun them around again so they faced the expectant team. "He wants to try to lift Mjölnir," she repeated, sliding her arm out of his and taking a seat next to Laura on the couch.

Thor looked at Bucky with a surprisingly scrutinizing expression and Barnes resisted the urge to stand straight up, throw his shoulders back and clasp his hands together. After a long moment, the god finally nodded approvingly. "A worthy contender," he stated without an ounce of sarcasm.

Thor then turned to Jane, taking her small hands in his and arranging his expression into the textbook definition of pleading.

"Al-right," the astrophysicist grumbled after a long moment, throwing up her hands as if this were a discussion they'd had repeatedly in the past. Thor leaned over to kiss her, then launched himself over the back of the couch, heading toward the entryway where he had stowed Mjölnir upon arrival.

"I just thought it might be nice if his hammer wasn't the center of attention for once," she explained to the rest of room.

Hill choked on a handful of bar mix and Darcy actually spat out her drink, but the rest of the guests tried to hide their reaction in a more discreet manner, laughing behind their hands or into someone else's shoulder.

Jane stared at all of them in confusion, quietly repeating her words back to herself, realization washing over her features when she realized what she had said. She grabbed a handful of pretzels from the bowls on the center table and threw them at her friends. "Children, all of you," she groaned, shaking her head in a mixture of disgust and amusement.

"Please tell me you got that on tape, JARVIS," Tony gasped through barely contained mirth. Pepper glared at him and elbowed him in the side, sending him doubling over, this time for real.

They all looked down when they heard a soft beeping and saw Dum-E zoom past, dustpan in hand.

Jane immediately sobered. "I'm sorry, Dum-E," she said, petting the top of his claw as he cleaned up the pretzels. The bot preened at the contact, chirping happily, then sped off to empty the dustbin.

On his way out, he almost ran straight into Thor, who quickly stepped aside to let him past. "Excited little fella, isn't he?" the god commented as he flipped Mjölnir effortlessly through the air in a vertical circle then placed it on the table. He took one step back then gestured grandly to it, looking pointedly at Bucky.

After a brief pause, Barnes stepped toward the low table, painfully aware of the silence in the room. From the lack of pool balls colliding and friendly banter, he knew even Sam, Steve and Clint had stopped their game to watch.

Bucky wiped his hands on his pants then carefully gripped the handle of the hammer, feeling an odd tingling in his fingers.

"Here goes nothing," he muttered as he pulled with all his strength.

That's all folks! It's up to you to decide whether he can lift it or not!

Up next is a combined prompt for Doppelgangers for OUAT and Hansel & Gretel Witch Hunters, followed by either an origin story for the Ambulance (ie: the circumstances that led it to its current state) or a Bucky!cap one-shot in the weeks following Ambush while Steve heals. Hope to see you then!

Thanks for your wonderful support on this adventure!

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