Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The street was calm, the first grayish rays of light beginning to peek into the sky, hours before the mad rush of the day would truly begin. Right now, it was just people like me. The people who kept life pumping in this city, working day in and out to get by. I looked up at the Tower. It seemed to stretch forever above me, even among the shining spires New York was known for. I took a cleansing breath. And, then, I walked through the glass doors into the belly of the beast once again.

I checked in at the main security desk, had my bag checked, per usual, and waved my badge at the door to the service stairs. It clicked open and I headed down to the first basement level for the locker room. I popped open my locker with my badge again, changed into my uniform, hung my street clothes and personal items in the locker, shouldered my knife bag and headed back for the elevator while I folded up the sleeves of my whites.

“Morning, Javier!” I chimed to my morning sous chef as I crossed the threshold into the main kitchen servicing the entirety of the now-dubbed Avengers tower, from the employee cafeteria to the penthouse residents.

“Buenos dias, jefa~!” The older latino man waved over his shoulder at me without looking up as he turned to empty a huge kettle into steamer pans. I checked in with him to see that the morning was going smoothly and made my morning rounds among the crew and checked that everyone had their posted event assignments. Then, I ducked in my office and grabbed my tablet and earpiece from their chargers.

“Morning, JARVIS.” I said once I had my earpiece in and my tablet open to my email.

“Good morning, Cookie,” came the posh, masculine voice. I rolled my eyes. Tony Stark enjoyed changing the AI’s settings from time to time and as a result I never knew when JARVIS would have a new greeting for me. Three weeks ago, it was Shirley Temple after he had finally seen me leaving work with my curly hair down. Cookie had been around for months and seemed to have become a favorite after I had jokingly named my little AI connected delivery cart Chuck Wagon. Tony’s love for nicknames was honestly one of the less annoying things about working for the man. I didn’t think he was a bad person, per se. He was an out of touch rich boy that ran on debauchery and hubris on his best days with an unmedicated ADHD brain that threatened to run me to death on his worst. But Pepper Potts ensured he paid well for being a pain in the ass, and I had no issue demanding an exorbitant fee for my services. He could afford it a million times over, after all.

“Any changes to the itinerary for today?” I headed for the stock room.

“The 3 o’clock board meeting has requested light refreshments, and there will now be a cocktail hour afterward with executive canape service. I have already updated the P.O. for Garde Manger, ordered the caviar and added extra scotch and gin to the bar delivery this afternoon.”

“Perfect. Let Angelica and Dean know I will have 3 extra hours for them today if they want it, and they’ll get black tie rate. Also, call in an extra prep and dishwasher for tomorrow. Cocktail hour means they are probably close to cutting a deal and they’ll want dinner tomorrow night after the handshake. I’ll have to double check the champagne inventory too in case Nat has been in my cellar again. What about the penthouse, anything I should know before I head up? Who’s home today?” I headed to dry storage and pushed the power button on the AI driven cart. “Time for work, Chuck.” It beeped to life and started following me 

 “I have taken the liberty of compiling the usual list for kitchen restock. Mr. Stark is currently present as well as Captain Rogers, Dr. Banner, Thor Odinson and Mr. Wilson.”

“Did you up the breakfast order? You know Thor will want about 30 pancakes on his own, and Steve isn’t far behind when he’s been working out a lot. Oh, you know, nevermind, I’ll supplement with Clint's special order from yesterday, since they probably won’t be back for a couple more days and I don’t want that prep to go to waste. Also, order another case of those french chocolates Nat likes and log a reminder for me to make the usual when Nat and Clint are due back.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Any special requests?”

“None currently, chef.”

The little supply cart wheeled itself into the special elevator that went up to the Avengers floors at the top of the Tower. The elevator stopped and Steve Rogers joined me as the elevator passed the ground floor. It looked like he was coming back from his usual early morning run, wearing sweats and a t-shirt and looking far too perfect to have just made several loops around Central Park.

“Morning, Captain Rogers.” I handed him a bottle of water off the cart.

“Cookie! Thanks, good morning.” he said, taking it with one of his million watt smiles as the door closed behind him. “Welcome back. How was vacation?”

It had ended up really just being a week without penthouse service for me after my evening sous chef went into labor three weeks early. “Not much of one, honestly, but thanks for asking. Anything in particular you need today?”

“I don’t think so.” He looked thoughtful for a minute. “Actually, can you make pancakes today?”

“Funny you should ask, I was actually planning on it since JARVIS let me know Thor is in the house.”

“Can I get an extra super soldier sized portion?”

“For Sergeant Barnes?” the Winter Soldier, a.k.a James “Bucky” Barnes had been brought to the Tower for observation. Steve was wildly protective of his friend, and refused to release him to S.H.I.E.L.D or the feds, preferring Bruce and Tony to work on a solution to his brainwashing.

He nodded. “Bucky used to love pancakes. Always had a big sweet tooth.”

I smiled, listening to him warm up talking about his best friend. Everyone learned about the Howling Commandos in school growing up and Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes had always been depicted as childhood friends with an especially close relationship. It seemed like that part of school history class was true.

We reached the floor with the Avengers common areas, and Chuck the supply cart wheeled out. “I’ll ask JARVIS to let you know when breakfast is ready, Steve.”

He smiled at me in thanks as the doors slid closed again behind me.

Soon enough, I had Avengers following their noses to the kitchen.

“Greetings, chef!” a boisterous voice echoed from the entry of the common area.

“Good morning, your highness.” I said warmly over my shoulder as I slid another couple of pancakes off the griddle onto a plate.

“I have asked you to call me Thor.” he said with mock sternness

“You have,” I answered, pouring the golden god a cup of coffee, “and a girl has to maintain some level of professionalism among all these brilliantly beautiful and powerful people, or she might begin to take on airs.”

He laughed, taking the cup from me and sweeping me up in a hug with one arm around my waist. “It is no giving of airs, for we would be at a loss without you, dear lady.” He always picked me up when he hugged me. I was convinced it was because I was so short. It was probably just easier for him than bending over. I wasn’t complaining. I wasn’t a little thing and it wasn’t every day someone just wanted to casually pick you up as a grown ass person.

I laughed and returned his hug, enjoying my moment of feeling petite for the day. I had been working for Stark Industries for about two and a half years now and providing chef services for the Avengers for nearly two of them, and I still got surprised at times by the boisterous good nature of the Asgardian. It was easy to get swept up by his charismatic joy. And, he gave unbelievably good hugs. Something I was always short of anymore. 

“He’s not wrong. Some of these guys would starve if it weren’t for you.”

Thor set me down and I turned to see Sam Wilson strolling in. “Morning, Sam. Breakfast today or just a pre workout smoothie?” He started to turn me down. “I made chicken and waffles~...” I flourished toward the buffet style service on the long bar.

“Clint request?” 

“You know it. Always missing out.” Clint had a strong habit of asking for me to make something and then galavanting off with Nat again. So I often ended up needing to cook his requests while he was gone before they could go bad.

He looked over at the pile of made from scratch chicken strips and waffles Thor was already covering with syrup and descending on like a force of nature. “Well, how am I supposed to turn down holding this over him?” He went to get a plate and then looked at what I was doing. “Pancakes, too?”

I nodded. “Steve requested them this morning. Is Sergeant Barnes still in observation, Sam?”

He looked up at me, fingers darting into snatch a piece of the strawberry I was cutting. “I think Cap moved him into the room beside his yesterday. Why?” 

I scooped up two more pancakes from the griddle. “JARVIS, would you please pass a ten minute warning to Captain Rogers regarding breakfast, and let him know I will meet him at Sergeant Barnes’ quarters?” 

Sam and Thor both shot concerned looks at each other, and then me.

“Of course, chef,” chirped the AI. “Shall I inform the other Avengers of breakfast service as well?”

“Yes, JARVIS, thank you so much.” I had several plates out that I was loading up “super soldier style”, as I’d come to call it. Thor was the only one around I'd seen put away more food than Steve with his enhanced metabolism, and I figured the other modified man wouldn’t be far behind him. Bacon, scrambled eggs, and fruit salad along with a tower of buttermilk pancakes for each of them, thick as cake layers and so fluffy they could float away. They all went into Chuck's warmer compartment. I added a small pitcher of maple syrup and a bowl of Steve’s favorite spiced apples, nice and hot. 

“Maybe I should take those up for you.” Sam offered.

I looked up at him from grabbing two coffee cups and setting them on top of Chuck with the carafe. “Why?”

“Well, he’s not exactly… stable?”

“I mean obviously Sergeant Barnes isn’t well, Sam. The man must have the worst c-PTSD in history. But, Cap thinks Barnes is okay to be in a real room, and Cap wouldn’t let me get hurt.”

“You sure?”

“Of course. Relax, Sam, I’m just dropping off breakfast.” I said, adding two glasses of orange juice.

“Ok, let’s go, Chuck.” I latched the warmer and the cart trundled back to the elevator. 

Sam probably didn’t know this wouldn't be my first time meeting the former Winter Soldier. I had taken meals to him in holding, sometimes trying to draw him into a little interaction. Mostly he had watched me warily as I passed his tray through the gated opening to his confinement cell, his eyes always intense behind unkempt, dark hair. His face was impassive, stony in its guard, and I was never sure if it was the programming itself or the fear of what he’d find if he came out of it that kept him locked behind that wall. The last few times I’d visited I had finally drawn a curt greeting, and the final visit I’d made before going on “vacation” last week I’d finally gotten a soft “thank you” as I left.

Steve must have heard me coming up the hall, because he emerged from his room to meet me. “You can leave it with me, Cookie.”

“Why? Not like I haven’t been bringing him meals for weeks.” I knocked on the door, and Steve looked at me with something that looked strangely like relief.

The door cracked open and I saw a blue eye, framed by dark locks and a couple days worth of beard.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes.” I smiled at him. “Steve wanted to have breakfast with you.”

“Open the door, Buck, got pancakes,” he chimed in.

He looked toward the cart behind me and after a long moment he looked at Steve again, rolled his eyes, and stepped away from the door.

Steve led the way and I followed with Chuck wheeling in behind me. Barnes looked ready to run, right hand behind him but obviously holding a gun, wearing a dark henley, jeans and heavy boots. I looked at the table beside him, saw it covered in what can only be described as an arsenal, and walked around the two big, tough and adorably awkward men to set the kitchenette bar for service.

“I’m sure you’re busy, you could just…” Steve said awkwardly.

“Stop being ridiculous and let me do my job.” I waved them both to sit down, and I grinned at him as I opened Chuck’s warming box. “Seeing people enjoy my food is one of the few joys in my life and you’ll not take it from me, Steve Rogers.” 

“What are the others?” he smirked.

“Thor hugs, and reappropriating Tony Stark’s money,” I replied without hesitation to a barked laugh from the blonde man. Steve often looked entirely too serious and it always warmed me down to my toes to see a smile or laugh startled out of him. 

Sergeant Barnes watched me taciturnly as I went about my familiar service routine, seeming to study me closely as I moved efficiently in the small space. I thought I saw a spark behind his eyes as the giant stacks of pancakes with their toppings came into view. “I was told you had a sweet tooth, Sergeant Barnes, so I brought you extra syrup. Good news, Stark only springs for the real stuff, straight from upstate.”

Steve grinned as the apples appeared, flooding the room with the sweet smell of cinnamon and ginger. “Cookie, you are the best.”

I smirked. “You’re goddamn right I am, Cap. Now dig in you two before it gets cold.” The two needed no other urging. Steve fell to with the gusto of a starving man. I continued setting out the drinks and tried not to watch Barnes too obviously as he poured syrup over the massive stack and took his first bite while I poured him a cup of coffee.

Something glimmered behind his eyes at that first bite, and I saw the barest shade of a smile play across his features as he chewed. Barely a relaxing of his lips, a softening around his eyes. Steve may have been the only other person in the world who could have caught it, but I’d been watching his face while he tried my food for weeks. I pushed the coffee cup in front of him, and he looked up at me. A shadow flicked across his face like he’d been caught. I gave him a small smile of encouragement. “I’m glad you like it,” I said softly. I had a feeling Steve was trying to socialize his friend very slowly, test his limits. So I went about wiping the counters and washing the few things in the sink, checking my tablet for new emails, answering a few, and conversing casually with Steve while they ate. 

As they finished, I took away their plates and loaded them back into Chuck.

“That was amazing.” Steve said, leaning back in his chair. “Thanks, Cookie.”

I grinned at him. “ No worries, Steve, it’s what I do.”

I patted Chuck as I loaded the last of the dishes. “Back to Avengers kitchen, buddy,” I said, and it trundled toward the door. I turned to the two men. “I’ll leave dinner in the main fridge. I have a couple benefits tonight to oversee, so I might be a little later tomorrow. Sergeant Barnes, if you have any requests you can always reach me through JARVIS. Just let me know if you need anything.” I turned to follow Chuck out the door.

“Bucky.” I heard quietly. I looked over my shoulder and Steve was looking at his friend, both surprised and maybe a little proud. The other man looked stoic as ever, like he hadn’t said anything.

I smiled gently as I turned again to leave, my heart doing a pleased little jump in my chest. “See you tomorrow, Bucky.”

I clocked out that night at 2am. Between people calling out, functions, executive requests, getting emergency orders ready, and prep for the following day that I couldn’t get to until the executives let me go, I couldn’t see dragging myself back to my apartment, so I stumbled to the spare suite reserved for staff in emergency situations like inclement weather and alien invasions. I locked the door behind me and fell flat out in bed.

Chapter Text

The alarm went off at 5am, and I rolled out to do it again. I took care of the penthouse, and went back downstairs to help with the general operations of catering and cafeteria. The handshake happened, as I expected, and I spent 2pm to 7pm prepping a pop up executive dinner, 7-9 overseeing it, and 9-midnight making sure the party flowed into the afterparty and the after-after party seamlessly.

The next day was much the same, except I woke up to my leg aching. I did my best to stretch it out before I rolled out of bed, donning my standard chef uniform and beanie because I hated chef toques. I reviewed the POs for the day around 6, stocked Chuck, and headed upstairs to stock the Avenger kitchen with grab and go meals and snacks and protein shakes and smoothies. Then, I made a couple of wraps and a tea and invaded the lab.

“What’s up, Cookie!” Stark didn’t look up and Banner didn’t acknowledge me.

“Tony, Pepper told me to force feed you if necessary. Take 10, dudes.”

Now Dr. Banner looked up from the holoscreen he was looking at with Tony, obviously just noticing me. “Oh, hi.”

“Good morning, Dr. Banner.” I chuckled. “Come on, you two. The quicker you eat this, the quicker we can all go on about our business.” I liked Banner, he reminded me of a lot of academics I knew, passionate, divergent, and generally disheveled. But, I limited interactions with him, without actively avoiding him, because he reminded me of my late husband Paul sometimes in a way that made my chest so tight it was hard to breathe. I too quickly fell into easy conversation with him, his quiet but intense energy and gentle demeanor was so familiar. His ever tousled hair and slightly rumpled shirts begged grooming and his loneliness was so palpable it made me want to hug him, rather than watch him nervously hug himself.

I shoved the Darjeeling and a wrap in front of Banner and got his attention. Stark was always more difficult. He tried to absently grab the tea and I moved it quickly as I led Bruce away. “No caffeine for you. Pepper says you need to go home tonight.”

He made a non-commital noise. 

“Mr. Stark, may I remind you, you do not pay me, Pepper does. Because she knows I will not hesitate to put hands on you in a way you Do Not Enjoy.” He ignored me, so I walked over and stuck my head through his holodisplay and directly in his face. “Ten. Minute. Break. Sir .”

“Jesus, Cookie, fine! Ten minutes.” He threw his hands in the air as if he had been about to comply anyway. 

I handed him the other wrap and two bottles of water. “Make it happen, boss.” I only had to poke Tony twice to stop looking at his watch readout and finish eating, so it went pretty smoothly.

Bruce was basically done at this point and I tricked him into a slightly longer break by engaging him in conversation while Tony was eating. I just asked him what they were working on, and he was off and running. I never fully understood the material, but I knew a little about a lot in a general sense and usually knew what to ask to get the gist of where things were going, if not where they were.

They were working on a cure for Bucky. How to deprogram him. The theory was the trauma induced by “the chair”, whatever horrific Hydra invention that was, to his brain and limbic system was being healed by his serum enhanced physiology and that’s why he seemed to be improving on his own. They still had to figure out how to break down the baseline Winter Soldier programming, and they were running a lot of tests to figure out how that was stored in his brain so they could basically erase it in a targeted way. 

I took up their dishes and headed back to the kitchen, leaving them to their work.

Sergeant Barnes was standing in front of the fridge, looking lost. “Good morning,” I said quietly as I walked in behind Chuck, who had probably already announced my presence to his super soldier ears before I ever showed up, but I generally made a point not to startle people who could rip me in half without effort. I walked around and came to the sink the other way so I wouldn’t have to make him move. Then, I pulled the dirty dishes from Chuck and set them in the sink to be washed. 

He didn’t move, and I regarded him as I placed the last dirty plate in the sink. “Bucky?” I said softly. He reacted like I had physically touched him. “Are you looking for something?”

He looked torn for a long minute, like he wasn’t entirely sure why he was there, or maybe if he should be. I couldn’t bear how lost he looked. “Are you hungry?” He looked at me, maybe fully meeting my eyes for the first time. I thought I saw relief. He nodded. I smiled at him. “Have a seat and I’ll make you something.” He settled at the bar to watch me. I noticed that he sat at the end of the counter where he could face the entry, even though it didn’t give him the clearest view of what I was doing. I knew it said less about how much he trusted me and more about how I was less of a threat than anyone who might walk in, but I took the compliment. “Is there something you want, or would you like me to pick something?”

He started to look lost again, like he was going into full analysis paralysis at IF he wanted something, let alone what that might be. I supposed that made sense if you didn’t get to make choices of your own for 70 years. I pulled a coke from the fridge, popping it and sliding it in front of him. It touched his fingertips and he nearly hid the flinch. I popped another for myself and tapped his in a one-sided toast. “I’ll just make something.” I dipped back into the fridge for a second to assess the situation, then I went to Chuck and rummaged a bit. “Ooh! That’s what’s up.” I came back up with a container and popped it in the sink under hot water for a couple of minutes while I sipped my cola, silently wishing it had whiskey in it as I felt my leg throb.

“Didn’t see you yesterday.”

I looked behind me. He was just watching me. It was the most words I’d heard him speak yet. I turned and leaned back against the sink. “It was just nobody ordered breakfast. I’m the only kitchen personnel with clearance, so I generally come up here to stock the kitchen as long as anyone is residing in the Avenger floors, but unless someone up here asks for a specific meal I only come up to restock and then focus on jobs in the rest of the building. Unless it’s my day off.”

“Okay.” he responded after a moment. It was the first word he had spoken to my face and I couldn’t help but smile at him again.

“Okay.” I turned and pulled the container from the sink and plopped the frozen soup into a sauce pot with a lid, putting it over low heat. Then I headed back to the fridge. I took a few things out and was about to close the door. “JARVIS, who’s home, besides Banner and Stark?”

“Thor is currently the only Avenger on premises, curly top.” JARVIS answered in my earbud.  Tony changed my nickname in the last 10 minutes. Petty as hell. Barnes looked nearly amused, and I groaned. Damn super soldier hearing. “However, Mr. Barton and Ms. Romanov should be arriving within the hour.” 

“Shit. How did I miss that reminder…”

“I would assume the fact you have slept a total of 6 hours in the last 48 is a potential culprit, ma’am.”

I sighed. “Thank you, JARVIS. Please log that for the list when it’s time to tell Potts I need a raise.” I turned back to the fridge. “JARVIS, please would you tell Javier that Chuck is on his way down, and to send me the post-mission usual?”

“Of course, ma’am.” Chuck began rolling back to the elevators.

“Thank you, JARVIS. I’d be lost without you, dear.”

“No trouble at all, chef.”

I went back to what I was doing. I could feel Bucky’s eyes on me as I worked, but it was unobtrusive, and it felt nice to have company for a minute. Soon, I was presenting him with a giant mug of tomato bisque and a grilled cheese on sourdough, thick with ham, muenster and pepperjack. I smiled at him and right on time, Chuck came humming back. I opened his storage compartment.

The voice in my earbud said, “I did take the liberty of asking Mr. Garcia for extra servings, in case perhaps you would wish to include Sergeant Barnes or Mr. Odinson.”

I took out the four frozen wrapped packages. “The best assistant I could ask for, JARVIS. You’re an absolute treasure.”

“You are very welcome, ma’am.”

I unwrapped them and into the oven they went. 

I looked up at Barnes. “Steve enjoyed it when I made that for him the first time. I thought you might like it, too. Though if you want something in particular you can absolutely ask me. You live here too now, after all.”

He looked up at me with something I couldn’t read, but I didn’t have time to consider it deeply as Chuck beeped at me, bringing me back to the task at hand.

“Yes, Chuck, thank you.” Soon I had two more places set at the other end of the counter. Champagne for Nat and myself, a lager for Clint, and on plates for both of them a brilliantly stacked Monte Cristo sandwich, piled high with ham, turkey and gruyere, spread with dijon, dipped in funnel cake batter and deep fried, dusted with a kiss of powdered sugar, served with raspberry chile jam for dipping and a pile of fresh fried potato chips with french onion dip. I slid a third plate in front of Bucky. “If you want,” I encouraged. “I know super soldiers need those calories.” 

“Cookie! Am I to understand you gave Wilson MY chicken and waffles?!”

I picked up my glass as I turned to the pair walking in. “Thor ate most of it, actually. You say that like I won’t do it again, Clint, now that you’re home. I take it everything went well?” They both nearly hid their surprise at the Winter Soldier casually sitting at the kitchen counter, polishing off a sandwich.

“Mission accomplished.” Natasha said, sounding satisfied. She walked up and clinked her champagne flute with mine. Clint toasted me after with his beer bottle as he gave me a firm side hug and a peck on the temple. 

“Is he joining us?” Clint asked, indicating with his drink.

I looked at Bucky, finishing his original soup and sandwich. “I guess that’s up to him.” I moved to take his dirty dishes. 

He leaned in just a degree as I did. “Thanks, curly top,” he said quietly, barely a whisper. Then he picked up the Monte Cristo plate and left. I swear to god I saw a smirk on his face as he turned away. Pretty sure my face was just shocked. Oh, boy’s got jokes now?!

Thor crossed him at the doorway. “Greetings, Sergeant Barnes!” 

Bucky slid around him, obviously offput by the Norse god’s energy. I swear if he were a cat, his tail would have been bushed.

The big, blonde man seemed unbothered by the reaction as he made his way over. I noticed Nat giving me a discerning look from the corner of my eye. I quirked a brow at her as if to dare her. She smirked and went back to her bubbly.

“I made you a plate too, your highness.” I slid a fourth plate onto the counter with another beer. “I think you’re gonna enjoy it.”

“If your hands have touched it, I have no doubt, my lady.” he said, sitting with the other two Avengers at the counter.

The three sat to eat, and soon I was awash and quietly preening under the sounds of appreciative moans and hums behind me while I stocked the kitchen, the three heroes chatting amiably about the mission while I worked.

“So what’s happening with the Winter Soldier?” 

I looked up, feeling the words were directed at me. Natasha topped my champagne flute and nudged it toward me as she pushed another chip in her mouth. I was forever struck how by she managed to make any movement somehow attractive. 

I took the glass, amused that she thought she’d get a rise out of me with that. “Steve brought Sergeant Barnes down from holding and put him in a room. Sunday night, by my understanding.” I took a sip. “I’ve served him a few meals, and I’m no expert, but he seems to be making some progress in his recovery.”

“Ever the consummate professional, Cookie,” she smiled cooly like she thought there was something more, but could wait.

“A compliment of the highest order from a Widow.” We toasted, and the men joined us, even if they didn’t quite catch what we were on about. I didn’t think Clint had the right angle to read his lips and know what Bucky had said.

I cleaned up lunch, headed back downstairs and found things were less than optimal. I spent the rest of the afternoon dealing with pop up events, staff shortages and vendor mistakes. I clocked out after 1am, before writing a strongly worded letter to Potts that if the Avengers were going to take this much of my time, she had better find me an events manager and a catering manager, and if I was going to be pulling this kind of schedule I expected semi-permanent quarters in the Tower. 

That night, Bucky put in a request. For plums, oddly enough.

Chapter Text

The next two weeks continued in much the same hectic fashion, maintaining things as usual as well as conducting interviews for new kitchen staff. By that Friday I was aching for a day off, literally. My left leg was a constant, pulsing pain that radiated up through my back and across my hips. I kept telling myself it was a good thing the nerves were finally recovering, but it didn’t feel that way. At least the cafeteria would be closed for the weekend, but there would be a large fundraiser Saturday night. Nothing Sunday though, and I was so ready.

The penthouse had come to feel like a little reprieve in my day whenever I needed to go up there. Most days I could come up quietly in the morning, do my setup for the day and leave. Often in those early hours I would only see Steve or Bucky, and maybe Sam if he was around. It seemed like the former service members of the Avengers were the only early risers of the group. Usually, it was Bucky I saw. 

Sometimes, it reminded me a lot of having a cat. Whenever Bucky knew of my presence in the penthouse (and he somehow almost always did), he was just nearby, thinking who knows what in his quiet, broody-looking way, observing or sometimes reading. He seemed to have an affinity for sci-fi and fantasy. He was getting more talkative, at least when it was just us, and I could often draw him into some light conversation. Sometimes he would ask me about some pop culture reference Tony had made recently, and it would lead to a recommendation of some new piece of media material he should check out. 

Usually, someone watching me while I worked, or just a man giving my movements that level of attention would have me on edge, but for some reason he didn’t. He had just become a sort of quiet companion as I made my usual rounds. Maybe it was the simple fact he seemed genuinely interested in whatever I was doing, and the interest he seemed to have in cooking and my job generally. His eyes were always on me when I worked, but not on my curves. I never felt that tingle at the base of my neck that I was being mentally undressed, or that someone was staring at my butt. He watched my hands when I chopped vegetables, the way the egg whites flew in a tsunami wave inside the bowl as I whisked them for meringue, how I changed the kneading technique of dough based on how sticky it was, or the way I flipped a pancake without splatting and deflating it. He watched my movements as I multitasked through my daily prep, deciding what needed to happen when and how I overlapped my tasks to get it all done efficiently. 

I was late in the penthouse kitchen today, we’d had yet another call-in and I had needed to help Javier set up for breakfast and lunch in the cafeteria, leaving me to make lunch service for the Avengers today instead of breakfast. Rhodey had come by to pull Tony away for an actual lunch out today, and that gave me a chance to talk Dr. Banner into also taking an actual lunch. I even managed to lure him out of the Lab to the commons. 

The super soldiers were already in the common room, watching a movie. The two seemed determined to make up for lost time and had been getting every dollar out of Tony’s Netflix subscription. Bruce grabbed a seat to join them. 

Bucky was already looking up at the door when I came in and it wasn’t long after that he migrated to his customary place at the counter to watch me, as he often did. 

“What have you two been watching today?” I asked while I laid out lunch, grilled chicken, baked beans and apple cole slaw.

“The Terminator movies.”

“Action movie day! What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” he answered quietly, “It’s… hard to watch.”

“I could see that.” I agreed, looking in the drawer for a serving spoon for the coleslaw. “Especially the first Terminator, huh?” 

I heard his chair and I looked up as I put the spoon in and picked up the bowl. He was standing now and looked troubled, his body tense, ready to bolt. I stopped and watched the subtle expressions playing over his face. Fleeting shadows behind his eyes of the emotions that still had a weighted blanket of mental damage and trauma thrown over them. “Bucky?” He just turned and left quickly.

“Bucky?!” I called after him and hurriedly set out the last dish. Steve got up from the couch quickly. “I got him, Steve, go ahead and eat. JARVIS, let the Avengers know lunch is served, please.”

I emerged from the common room in time to see him disappear around the corner, and took off after him as fast as my leg would allow. He was too fast and I lost him after that but passed Nat and Sam. “Did you see Barnes go this way?”

Sam indicated with a thumb. “Yeah, I think he was headed to the gym. Is something wrong?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, Sam, thanks. I think I just accidentally ripped off some trauma scabs and we need to talk.”

“You good?” Nat asked warily.

“Yeah, I just gotta catch up with him. Go enjoy lunch. I’ll call if there’s something I can’t handle.”

“Good luck, Cookie.”

“Thanks.” I took off down the hall again. 

By the time I caught up to him he was working one of Steve’s heavy bags, going at it with fists and shins in something that looked in the family of Krav Maga. I nudged off my work clogs, not wanting to track kitchen grunge over the exercise mat and padded over. “Hey, Bucky,” I said quietly. He ignored me, working up a sweat as he pummeled the bag like it owed him something, faster and faster as I spoke, grunting more fiercely with every strike. I had to admit, it was vicious poetry in motion. “Bucky, I’d just like to know what you’re thinking. You just up and left after looking at me like I sucker punched you. I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”

His metal fist hit the bag so hard it disappeared inside. He leaned his forehead against it, panting.

“Wow, I wonder how much Tony has to spend on replacing those between you and Steve and Thor.”

He huffed out an actual laugh and finally turned his head sideways to look at me through his dark hair, head rested on the now leaking bag. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Cookie.” 

He pulled his fist out of the punching bag, and I watched the filling rush out onto the floor with a smirk before looking up at his guarded face again.

“It sure seems like I did.” I sat down on the mat with a quiet groan, grateful to be off my feet for a minute. I bent one leg, resting the hollow of my left knee on top of my right ankle and rested my hands on my right shin. “Can you come talk to me?” I asked quietly. He didn’t move, just looked at me like he was trying to figure me out. I patted the mat near me. “Please. Come talk to me, Bucky.”

He gave a resigned sigh so deep it shifted his shoulders and came to sit near me. He sat in that very ‘guy’ way of both legs bent, one knee up with his arm resting on top of it and the other resting in his lap. He looked at me through his dark hair with his stormy blue eyes, and if he could have looked any more Byronic every emo girl in history would have spontaneously combusted at the instinctive knowledge of his dark and broody existence.

When he didn’t talk for a long time I decided to help. “Why did you leave, Bucky?”

“You said that thing…” he was staring at his mechanical hand, “and it was like you looked inside my head for a second.”

I nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“I didn’t want you to see in there. See him...” He fell silent again, his eyes looking lost. I wanted so much to push that hair back that kept trying to hide his face. I wanted to hug him.

I looked down at his hands. I took a deep breath. “Bucky, may I touch you?” I saw an edge of panic creep in around his eyes. “Just your hands,” I reassured, “and not any longer than you’re okay with.”

The pause was long as he regarded me from behind what felt like a stone wall. Finally he nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” I reached out both my hands in front of me with an encouraging smile. I felt him steel himself before he dropped his knee to sit cross-legged and tentatively laid his fingers in my palms. Not a flinch, but an unsure intake of breath at the initial contact. I couldn’t imagine how long it had been since someone touched him outside of something cold and clinical. To harm him. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to go so long without any kindness. I scooted close enough that our knees nearly touched and rested his hands on my calf. I slid my fingers up the back of his hands, stopping at his wrist and laying my hands over his, watching him carefully for signs he was still okay with the contact. “Okay?”

“Okay.” He still seemed apprehensive about where this was going, but he didn’t look about to bolt anymore. 

I picked up his right and held it in both of mine. I touched it gently, learned it, rubbing the calloused knuckles with my thumbs and tracing the lines and scars with my fingertips, waiting for him to relax. Eventually, he started to, watching my fingers move over his skin. Then, I turned it palm up and explored it just as meditatively, noting the roughness of the fingertips and the heel of his hand, the tension of how his hand rested when he relaxed, fingers slightly curled. Like mine, it was a hand molded by hours holding a knife, or in his case also a gun. I glanced up and he was watching my hands intensely.

When I reached for his left hand too, I felt him tense again. I set his flesh hand back on the knee of my bad leg stretched out beside him and proceeded to treat his prosthetic the same way I had the other. I noted the scratches, the dings, the way the plates moved against each other and flared a little when he tensed, the way the joints rubbed and servos whirred quietly with each movement. I watched his expression gradually change from guarded to something bordering on bewildered at the casual ease of my fingers gently exploring the cool metal. 

Finally, I broke the silence softly. “I’ve seen footage, you know. Of the Winter Soldier. On the news.” I set the metal hand on my other knee, and laid my hands on top of his again. “The way he moves, implacable and calculated. The lack of expression. It’s not hard to draw the comparison. But that’s him.” I looked up at him finally. He was looking at me with a sort of wonder, something in his eyes so raw it was hard to hold space for it in the moment, but I was doing my best. “He isn’t you, Bucky. He may be part of you, he will probably always be at least a shadow in there. 

“But, you aren’t him.” My thumbs rubbed idly along the inside edge of his index fingers as my hands covered his, looking small by comparison. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes. A good guy,” my lips quirked, “with a wicked sense of humor,” the corner of his mouth twitched just a little, “who got caught up in a shit show a long time ago, something awful and beyond their control that nobody would have asked for. A guy who likes pancakes, and Tolkien, and pulp sci-fi, and swing music, and who maybe wants to cook with me someday instead of just watching.” I met his eyes again with an encouraging smile.

“I don’t need to invade your thoughts to know you’re working through a lot, and some things are going to be triggering for you. Always will be. It sucks that trauma doesn’t just go away like that.” My leg spasmed as though on cue, and I shifted, stifling my wince and a little grunt of pain. I gave his hands a little squeeze in response to the shadow of concern I saw pass behind his eyes as I continued. “It only gets more manageable. Just remember you have friends here, and we give a shit about what you’re going through, even if we can’t fix it.” I shifted to my knees, painfully, still holding his hands. 

“Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Just got a little stiff sitting down there.” I urged him to his feet, and smiled up at him. “Can we join everyone for lunch now?”

He helped me up, still holding my hands, seeming just a little reluctant to let them go. “Okay,” 

“Okay.”

After lunch, Steve pulled me aside on my way back downstairs and thanked me. “It’s good to see Bucky connecting with someone.”

“That’s not something to thank me for, Steve. Nobody deserves what happened to him, and I’m just treating him like a human. Same as I’d do for any of you. You all deserve better than being treated like weapons to be pointed at problems.”

“It’s not like you’re here to give us therapy, though.”

I chuckled. “You’re not wrong. I guess I do see part of my job as providing comfort, though. Making sure there’s at least a little reprieve from whatever hell you have to deal with out there. Food hugs for the soul doesn’t require a big leap to a kind word or even a platonic hug now and then. Depending on the person, of course.”

I saw something pass across his face. He looked momentarily awkward.

“Steve,” I looked up at him with a gently playful smile, “would you like a hug?” I held my arms out in the platonic over/under position and he smiled bashfully at me before he stepped in and wrapped his arms stiffly around me. It took him a second, but he finally relaxed a little, and I found out Steve Rogers could maybe give hugs almost as good as Thor. Almost. If he could ever relax.

“Thanks, Cookie.”

“You’re very welcome, Cap. Good luck at the veteran’s benefit tonight. The cake looks amazing.”

“Same to you. I’m sure everything will be great with your help.”

The benefit went off without a hitch, but unbelievably, one of my cooks threw his back out on the plating line and I had to jump in. 

It was well after midnight again when I left the bar staff to finish closing up the ballroom and went to lock up the kitchen myself. An hour later, I had set prep lists for the morning crew and put out a list of shifts to fill while John was flat on his back, including tomorrow’s dinner/close with the Doctors Without Borders benefit, though I already knew that would be me.

Also, Bucky and Steve both separately requested pancakes for breakfast. I’d have been annoyed about not being able to sleep in again if it weren’t so damn cute. There was another email in the list. A follow up to one I’d ignored last week as part of an ongoing onslaught of S.H.I.E.L.D trying to get my attention. I deleted it.

As always, JARVIS had my back when I needed some energy and I bopped through “Sit Next to Me” by Foster the People in my earbud while I made my way through the kitchen making sure everything was shut down and secure for the night. I was between the ovens catching the ventilation switch and emerged to see Bucky standing nearby, watching me. I jumped clean out of my skin and I’m pretty sure I screamed. “Jesus fucking Christ, Barnes! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

He had the courtesy to look apologetic.

I relocated my wits and put my keys back in my pocket. I hadn’t even noticed I already had them in my hand, readied like brass knuckles. “What’s up? I’m just turning out the lights.”

“Just went for a walk.”

“Can’t sleep, bud?”

He shrugged. “I don’t need much.”

“Man, that would be nice sometimes.” I locked the door behind us and dropped my chef coat and apron in the hamper by the door. 

“Are you heading home now?”

“Not exactly, I’ve been working so many hours that I’m using employee quarters here.”

“They must miss you. At home”

I looked at him and something must have crossed my face because he looked about to apologize. “There hasn’t been anyone waiting for me in awhile.” I said quickly. “Wouldn’t even have time for a cat as much as I work anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” 

He looked about to say something else, and I cut him off as I reached the employee elevator. “Good night, Bucky,” I said abruptly and stepped through the door, pressing the “door close” button behind me.

He looked as surprised as if I’d slapped him rather than just cut him off. “Uh, good night.”

I leaned into the wall of the elevator after it closed, massaging my upper left thigh and hip. The muscle beneath and surrounding the mass of gnarled scars was hurting like it always when I worked too much. It ached, almost always burned and prickled now. It would tighten, clenching the muscles when I pushed my body too hard, like I’d been doing for weeks. They told me it was a unique type of radiation burn, some alien thing they’d never seen, and that I was lucky to be alive. I regularly needed deep tissue therapy and massage to keep the fibrous tissue from hardening up further, impeding my movement. Days like this I was skeptical of just how lucky I was.

When I got back to the room I pulled out a bottle of scotch, poured three fingers, and hit the shower with it. I turned the heat up as hot as I could stand and let it pound over my hip and thigh. I rested my head against the wall between sips and breathed through the flinching, jumping spasms. 

I hadn’t meant to be rude to him. I just wasn’t in a mental state to dig up the worst day of my life. Especially not in front of a deeply traumatized man early in his recovery. I didn’t know if any of the Avengers knew my history, I could only assume Tony did via Pepper, I had penthouse clearance after all, and Nat seemed to know anything there was to know eventually. That didn’t mean I wanted to discuss it, even with people who did know.

That night I dreamed of my children screaming, kissing my husband for the last time, alien faces and searing pain.

Chapter Text

I was relieved when my alarm woke me, face wet with tears, before I could watch them die again. It was all I could do to not add scotch to my first cup of coffee before I headed to the kitchen. I grabbed my tablet and earpiece and asked JARVIS for some background music so I didn’t have to be alone with my thoughts. The band Cannons came through, I think it was ‘Bright Lights’, and it was exactly the right mix of quiet ambiance and bop that helped me push through the emotions and physical pain I was feeling like a fog around me. I bobbed my head gently. “That’s perfect JARVIS, you’re so good to me.”

“You are most welcome, Cookie.”

I was glad for the main kitchen being empty this morning. With no cafeteria service and one event on the roster today nobody would be in until after noon. I finished setup and made my way upstairs with Chuck to do the weekend stock and make pancakes.

I walked into the common area to find Bucky crashed on the couch, the TV asking if he was still watching. He wore the same dark sweats and t-shirt he’d been wearing last night with one arm thrown over his head, the other across his stomach, one long leg stretched down the length of the sofa and the other hanging off the front. I’d never seen such a peaceful expression on his face. He looked years younger somehow, his brow and jaw line without the tension I’d always seen them hold. Closer to Steve’s apparent late 20s than my mid 30s. Nobody would believe me if I told them The Winter Soldier could look adorable. I wondered for a moment what it would be like to snuggle into him and that super soldier warmth. The notion would probably have anyone else drawing analogies to the impulse of wanting to pet a sleeping bear at the zoo. I shook my head. I must be getting touch starved. Maybe I could ask Thor…

I shook my head again with a quiet huff and followed Chuck to the kitchen. I started coffee and then took care of the dishes as quietly as I could manage while it brewed. Bucky must have woken at some point because I looked up from getting the griddle ready to find him suddenly in his usual place at the counter. I jumped and gasped. “If you don’t stop that I’m gonna put a bell on you!”

He gave me a lop-sided smirk, looking far less apologetic than he had last night. I poured us both a cup of coffee, adding just cream to mine and only a little sugar to his. He took a sip and hummed with satisfaction. “How do you do that?”

I leaned on the counter across from him, resting on my elbows, deciding to pause and savor my second cup of the day. “I may not be a super operative or augmented human, but it is my job to notice little things about people.”

My hands were wrapped around my mug, inches away from his. His knuckles closed the distance briefly, brushing over mine just a couple times then retreating back. Testing the waters. “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable last night.”

I shook my head. “Oh, no, Bucky, it’s okay.” I returned his brief gesture with a small smile. I thought about taking his hand, but I felt tight inside, raw. I was hitting a wall, and I knew I couldn’t hold it together today and do my job if someone touched me enough to relax. “You couldn’t know my situation. I didn’t mean to come off harsh. I’m just running on fumes right now. It’s been a long few weeks.”

“You’re limping. More than last night.” His brow drew with concern.

“Nothing to be worried about. It’s an old injury that acts up when I spend a lot of time on my feet. Like I said, it’s just been a heck of a rough patch downstairs. I’ll be okay.” I gave his hand a little pat and stood up straight, wincing a little as the weight redistributed through my hip and lower back. I put my mug in the sink and turned on the griddle. Then I reached into the fridge and pulled out an assortment of fruit.

I heard his chair behind me and a soft footfall before I heard his voice close behind me. He was telegraphing his presence for me, and it made me my lips curve in a soft smile. “Will you let me help today, Cookie?”

He was a little closer than I thought when I looked over my shoulder, but not alarmingly so, just at the edge of my personal space where I could reach out and touch him if I wanted. “Sure, Bucky. Do you want to do salad or a platter for the fruit?”

“I like how you did the fruit salad the other day.”

I smiled at the compliment. “We can do that. Cut up the fruit and I’ll show you how to dress it.”

He went to the cabinet for a cutting board and bowl. I took a knife from my kit and handed it to him. He looked at it and then at me. “Is that okay? I’ve heard how chefs are about their knives.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “About as possessive as assassins.”

I chuckled and shrugged, “The knives in this kitchen drive me crazy. I haven’t had time to sharpen them and nobody uses them up here. I prefer my own tools.” I smirked back at him. “And I know you’ll respect them.”

He examined the blade, seemed to approve, and went to work. It was like I had trained him in my kitchen, the way he smoothly peeled, seeded and cut the melons in perfect bite size pieces. He looked up to see me watching him and shrugged with a little smile, “I notice things about people.”

I smiled. “So you do,” and I turned back to the griddle. The Black Keys ‘Lo/Hi’ came on and my body started swaying on its own in front of the stove, shoulders bouncing and weaving along. Bucky asked what I was listening to and I asked JARVIS to switch my music to just above ambient in the common room speakers. We moved around each other with an effortlessness that surprised me, like we had worked together before. He took care of most of the setup, seeming determined to not let me do much besides man the griddle and give him instructions about bacon, sausage and eggs. Soon, things were set up, and I asked Jarvis to make a notification that breakfast had been served.

Steve appeared first, probably just cleaned up and back from his morning run. “You get a new job, Buck?”

The other man frowned at him, “Punk.”

Steve smirked affectionately, “Jerk.” He came around the corner and I handed him a cup of coffee, black with more sugar than Bucky, having a bigger sweet tooth than his friend. He put an arm around my shoulder with a gentle squeeze as he took the mug. “Good morning, Cookie.” The side hug was a little stiff, but it seemed the touch barrier was broken now, so I gave him a gentle head bump against his chest as he took a sip. “Morning, Steve.”

Thor was next to follow his nose down to the common room. “We have been graced with a feast! Truly the blessing of a goddess.” He swept me up in his usual way and I winced with an involuntary hiss as my back spasmed at the sudden relief of pressure. He looked at me immediately. “Are you alright, my lady? Did I hurt you?”

I shook my head with a wince. “No worries, big guy. Just an old war wound that acts up now and again.” I hugged him around the neck. “Worth it for my daily dose of Thor uppies.”

He laughed and gave me a squeeze I thought might pop every vertebrae in my spine before setting me down gently with an affectionate little kiss on the top of the head. I noticed Bucky watching the interaction from the corner of my eye as I handed Thor a cup of coffee, black. 

Sam and Clint showed up next. Clint came in for his usual side hug and temple kiss as I handed him his coffee, cream and lots of sugar if I was making it, black if he took his own, like the chaos goblin he was, “We don’t deserve you, sweetheart.”

“You deserve whatever Pepper is paying me to do to make sure y’all don’t starve, flatterer.”

Sam pulled a stool around next to the griddle where I was still making pancakes. You would not believe how many pancakes two super soldiers and a Norse god could pack in. “Take a load off, Cookie,” he said, “looks like that leg is acting up on you today.” 

I accepted gratefully, handing him a cup, black, and pulling myself up onto the stool. “Thanks, Sam. The scars are getting stiff again. I definitely need to book a massage soon.”

“I’d be happy to help you out with that,” Clint offered playfully from the table.

“I bet you would, lech,” I shot back. He just grinned at me.

“Tomorrow is your day off, right?” Sam asked.

I nodded. “Laundry be damned. I’m not leaving my bed all day.”

“I’d help with that, too!” Clint chimed. I laughed.

As the guys were finishing up I made trays for Tony, Bruce and Nat who had apparently decided to either work or sleep through breakfast. Chuck and I made our way to the elevator, and I didn’t feel surprised when Bucky was suddenly there to push the call button. “Coming to keep me company?” He nodded, and as the door opened I gave his metal shoulder a little girly head bump, like the one he watched me give Steve earlier. He nearly suppressed the flinch at the casual touch. “Thanks,” I said, walking in behind Chuck.

I leaned against the back wall, hands supporting me on the rail. My head tipped back and my eyes closed for a minute as I took a deep breath. He stood beside me, watching me, but I could feel a weight to his gaze that was unusual. I opened my eyes and met his without moving. “What’s on your mind, Buck?” I asked quietly.

“You really don’t mind it, do you?”

“What?”

He leaned back next to me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Being touched.”

“Not by people I trust and who aren’t testing my boundaries.” I gave a little shrug. “I’ve always been a cuddly person, so once I know someone isn’t going to get the wrong idea I’m generally okay with most forms of friendly affection. Hell, I’d be fully touch starved if it weren’t for my interactions here.”

“Touch starved?”

I cocked my head. “Yeah, Buck, people need touch from other people.” I shrugged and leaned my head back again, looking up at the ceiling. “For me, it gets like that hungry where you don’t even notice how famished you are until you get that first bite.” I remembered the first time Thor hugged me. It was the first time anyone had in almost a year and I nearly cried. I think he somehow knew how much it meant to me, and that’s why he made a point hug me regularly and very well afterward.

“Okay.” He said, and I felt his hand move next to mine on the rail, just touching the sides together.

I smiled and brushed my hand slowly over his, slipping my fingers between his and stroking the side of his hand idly with my thumb. “Okay?” I asked.

He took a breath, like something was easing inside him just a little and squeezed my fingers gently. “Okay.”

He followed me while I dropped off trays for Nat and Tony at their doors. JARVIS let me know Dr. Banner wasn’t in his quarters, so we headed to the Lab next.

The scientist was passed out at a work table, surrounded by papers. Something deep in my chest ached looking down at him with his glasses askew against his face, steely hair disheveled, drooling on the papers below him. I smiled and made a little shushing motion at Bucky, setting the tray near the sleeping man on a clear part of the table. I went to the nearby sofa and took a blanket, draping it over him. I moved quietly, with a practiced grace I didn’t think I still had, gently removing his glasses, polishing the lenses with the cleaning cloth he always kept beside the microscope, and folded them to sit on top of the tray of food beside him. Then I motioned my superhuman shadow to follow me with a wink.

I sent Chuck off with orders to head down to the main kitchen and looked down at my watch. Just enough time to clean up the common kitchen and check my emails before the crew arrived for event service. So much for grabbing a cat nap.

“How do you do that?” Bucky asked quietly.

I chuckled. “Do what?” 

“Just accept all the weirdness, and everyone here. …And somehow just know what people need.”

I shrugged, calling the elevator again. “I guess I’m just good at my job.”

“Is it just a job, then?”

I looked up at him. His eyes had gone more guarded again.

“Well, some jobs you find out you’re good at, or get good at,” I shrugged, “and some things you just know, so you make it a job because it’s the only thing you know.” When I smiled up at him, it felt rueful. “I’ve always taken care of people. Since I was a kid. It might be the only thing I know how to do, and every other skill I got because of it.” I stepped closer and took his hand again. “But, I do enjoy it.” 

I led him on the elevator beside me and rested my head on his shoulder. “I like helping people feel loved. Nobody deserves to feel alone, like they don’t matter as a person. And usually all it takes is just letting someone know you noticed them.” He released my hand, and I had a moment to think I’d overstepped. I started to step away, but then his arm was around my shoulder, pulling me into his side gently. I had just a moment to smile, wrap one arm around his back, giving a little squeeze, and I felt my eyes start to get hot. Then the doors chimed like a reprieve from my own encroaching emotions, and with a deep breath it was back to work.

The evening event went smoothly enough, all things considered, and I was able to pass off the cleanup and close to the crew and stagger upstairs around midnight.

I made my way to the room I’d stayed in for the last week and opened the door to see a man sitting in an armchair facing the door. His fingers were steepled in front of him, waiting for me, with a glass of my scotch and the bottle on the endtable beside him. “You’ve been ignoring my emails.”

Chapter Text

I met the man’s calculating one-eyed gaze, gave him a distasteful look and moved to close the door again without entering. “JARVIS, find me another room, please.”

“We need to talk.” I ignored the commanding voice, finished shutting the door and headed back for the elevator as briskly as I could still walk.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, there are no other rooms available.” JARVIS answered.

“Then tell me when Nick Fury is no longer in my room, or in the building for that matter.”

“Director Fury is not currently on premises, ma’am.”

My heart jumped in my chest. “JARVIS, record this entire conversation along with all audio happening in my vicinity until I tell you to stop and send to Mr. Stark with an urgent marker. Also, patch Romanov with a live feed right now, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I heard my name, snapped like the crack of a whip behind me. “I said, we goddammed need to talk.”

I didn’t stop. “We absolutely do not, Mr. Fury. You asked me for something. I gave you an answer. Months ago.”

“I’m offering to pay you for something you’re doing anyway.”

“You seem to think this is some kind of negotiation or debate, Mr. Fury. I assure you, it is not.” I was forced to stop in front of the elevators and he caught up with me. 

“The Avengers-”

“I will not leverage my professional relationship with my clients to give you intel.” I turned on him with a snarl as I backed into the elevator and pushed the lobby button. ”And I will not put myself in your pocket so you can use me someday to get compliance from them, you fucking megalomaniac.”

He bullied his way into the elevator with me and the elevator closed before I could go back. “These are dangerous fucking people. The Winter Soldier is an unknown factor and-”

“Of course he fucking is! Sergeant Barnes is a veteran and tortured POW of one of the bloodiest conflicts in human history and carting a case of c-PTSD to match! He was a science experiment for fuck sake!” I returned his bullying, crowding into his space, glaring up at the tall, spindly black man, right into his one eye. “News flash. JAMES BARNES is still a person. They all are still people, Fury!” My voice was growling straight from my chest. “I may just be the help, but I’m not a tool, and neither are they.”

I shoved past him out of the elevator and immediately made a mad dash for the other elevator, “JARVIS! Penthouse elevator, emergency trip!”

I was short and not fast, but I hauled ass and hoped for the best as I hurtled myself across the empty lobby. My leg gave with a violent cramp as I reached the elevator and I followed the momentum as best I could, tucking and rolling ass over teakettle inside. I saw Fury pulling up half a dozen steps behind me. I flipped him the bird with a snarl as the doors closed. I just lay there on the floor panting, trying to make my leg bend again, face contorted in pain.

The doors opened on the event floor and Nat was there. I looked up at her. “Hi, Nat,” I said with a weak, pained smile. “JARVIS, cut the recording now, thank you.” I pushed up on my elbows, feeling just a little dumb. “Sorry,” I said as she stepped on the elevator, doors closing behind her. “I’ve made baked beans for a hangry Hulk, but Nick Fury may be the scariest motherfucker I’ve ever met.”

She smiled, looking spectacular in her gown for the benefit. “You aren’t wrong,” she said, offering me a hand up. 

When we reached the penthouse, Bucky was coming up the hall, probably on another of his late night strolls and looked at me getting off the elevator with Nat in my normal beanie and chef pants with just a t-shirt, limping hard and still a little out of breath. “What’s wrong? Cookie, are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay, Bucky. Just had a hell of a spook.” Nat winced at my pun and I winced as my leg spasmed hard and I cursed. He was immediately at my elbow. My solicitous shadow. We followed the hall the short way into the community space and kitchen. “Sorry, Nat. I didn’t know who else to call if Fury came out of pocket.” I felt myself babbling and I couldn’t stop. “I mean, the man lives out of pocket, but I mean if he tried to have hands put on me. He didn’t try anything, but that man terrifies me. He’s like the embodiment of everything black ops, and I don’t want to know what he would expect of me if I worked for him. And he was just there. In my room. Waiting for me. Drinking my goddamn scotch, too, the asshole!” 

“Want a drink?”

“Dear god, yes please.” She smiled at me and went to the freezer, pulling out a bottle. “Gurl,” I said as she poured each of us a shot of vodka. Bucky, too, who had guided me into a seat. “You have never been more beautiful than in this moment,”  She smirked at me and we downed them together. I leaned over the counter, resting my head on my arms.

“What’s Fury got on you, Cookie?” Bucky asked.

“Nothing,” I said frankly. “I think that’s the problem.” I raised my head. “He thinks I’m close to all of you, and he wants me to be a known quantity, but he doesn’t have a control point. Not unless McCarthyism comes back hard anyway.” I pushed the shot glass back toward Natasha. “I’m just glad he didn’t catch me at home. I don’t trust that guy as far as I could throw him.”

She refilled it. “Still hard for me to believe it’s really nothing, but it’s doubtful he would have made a move that bold if he had leverage.”

“I’m sure you’ve read up on me, Nat. You know I don’t have anyone or anything besides this job.”

She didn’t deny it. “Yeah, I know,” she said it quietly and took the shot with me. Bucky didn’t.

I huffed out a hollow laugh. “As a fellow operative, maybe you should remind him how gauche it is to come in here with nothin’ but his bald-headed intimidation.”

She laughed. “I might.”

“Tony is gonna be pissed that JARVIS got fooled,” I chuckled.

“You bet I’m pissed!” Tony came barrelling in like a force of nature, still in his tux, bowtie undone and hanging loose around his neck. “You good, Cookie?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, Tony, I’m okay.”

He paused, just for a second to make eye contact with me, “Good.” Then, he was off and running again. “JARVIS, put Cookie’s place up for sublet and log her a permanent suite in the penthouse. Take her off the downstairs schedule, too.”

“What?! Belay that please, JARVIS!” I jabbed a finger in his direction. “You don’t get to make that decision for me.” I jumped down from the stool onto my one functioning leg. “I won’t let Fury put me in his pocket, and I won’t let you either, Stark.”

“You already asked Pepper about a room-”

I limped forward. “In the Tower, not the penthouse , and temporarily! I made a proposal during a rough patch when I am frustrated about being short handed and working 80 hours a week!”

“I’m making it happen, Curly. Deal with it.”

Every muscle in my body tensed, my fists and jaw bunched. I could feel my leg clenching and spasming, and I bit through the pain. “Then, I’ll quit and Fury won’t be an issue.”

They all looked at me. “If you think you know better, that I can just be eliminated from the schedule, then I can do it permanently.” I started stalking, but probably just hobbling with a purpose, back to the elevator. “You can expect my resignation letter first thing in the morning, Mr. Stark,” I growled as I passed him.

“Whoa-whoa-whoooooa! What’s going on here, Cookie-girl?” Clint stopped me at the entryway with Thor beside him. He looked over my shoulder. “Tony, the fuck did you do?” 

I pushed past Clint. Thor stepped in front of me, hands on my shoulders. “Please, a moment, dear lady. Let us discuss whatever overstep Stark has made.” My entire body was beginning to quiver.

“Hell if I know!” Tony threw up his hands. “Fury scared her, I said I’d put her up here in the penthouse and she blew up!”

I spun on him. “No, Tony! You saw one problem, one that isn’t even yours, and assumed you had the only answer without even considering logistics! If you knew the first thing about me or what I do around here, besides making pancakes, you’d never presume to do that without consulting me.” Then, I stopped. “Wait.” My head tilted as I looked at him in disbelief. “You really don’t know anything about me, do you?” I continued quietly. Tony got that deer in the headlight look, like he never saw this about to go sideways. “Heheh, you’ve never read my file.” They all looked at him. 

He just looked around at them. “Oh, you stepped in this one, Tony,” Clint chortled.

“Oh my god, that’s why Fury wants me?!” I had to rub my forehead with one hand to make sure I didn’t have a vein about to burst as I continued, truly incredulous. “I work at one of the highest clearance levels in your building, access damn near everywhere, and you’ve never even read my file. You just let Pepper handle it. You figured she liked me and I passed a clearance, so you trusted whatever JARVIS sent you, like he’s perfect.”

I looked up, because sometimes it just felt like the right way to address the disembodied voice. “No offense, JARVIS, you’re still the best assistant I’ve ever had.”

“None taken, ma’am.” the AI chirped back.

My eyes snapped back to the billionaire. “It wasn’t important enough to you, because I’m just the help. You don’t know anything about me and the only reason you’re interested in helping me now is the dent in your ego because JARVIS got bypassed.”

“That’s not true,” he hedged, but anyone with a nose could smell the half lie in it.

“Who’s at home waiting for me, Tony? Who would be thrown on the street because you put my apartment on the market?” It was a trick question and at least two other people in the room knew it.

“Well, you don’t exactly strike me as the live-in boyfriend or roommate type. You’ll have time to get your cat, not like it’ll be rented in the next 24hrs,” he joked flippantly.

“Fuck you!” I lunged at him and I felt myself wrapped in a pair of strong arms. “How dare you! I was married! I had kids! And they died!” I fought against the bracing arms over my waist and chest, holding me firmly against a broad body. “Here! Under a fucking Chitauri war ship! Same way I got this bum fucking leg that you probably never noticed either!” My vision tunneled on the dumbstruck man in front of me as I strained at him, clawing in the air despite my arms being pinned to my sides. “All the money and power in the world and you, and everyone like you, didn’t give two shits about those people because the collateral wasn’t your fault !”

“We cared, I cared…” he looked lost, “Why do you think we do all those charities...”

I laughed. It was cold and hollow and felt like vomiting cut glass. “You throw parties. So other people can give their money, just like tonight! So rich people can feel better about themselves and you can stroke your Iron Dick . Never once have you cared about anything enough to hurt for it, Tony Stark. And if you did, it was because you lost something personal. Like your pride. I bet never once have you done anything that would have real, lasting cost to you . Just because it was the right fucking thing to do.”

“I steered a nuke into space!” he protested.

“One way missions don’t have consequences for you!” I snarled back. “It’s everyone else’s problem because you’re gone!” My voice had dropped to a seethe. “Here in your Tower. With all your money, and your power, and your demigod friends where nothing can ever really touch you. At least not for long. Knock down your tower, blow up your suit, you’ll have a bigger, shinier one in no time and still have as much money and clout as a small country.”

I heard Bruce stick his head in to ask about the yelling, only to be quelled quickly by the energy and a sharp look from Nat.

“Do you know why I took this job? Do you know why I actually talk to JARVIS?” He shook his head, blessedly silent for once. “Because I thought even if you never pay for how you’ve affected so many people,” I grinned, and it felt feral on my face, “I can at least take your money. And, if I’m really lucky, when JARVIS goes Skynet because of your massive hubris, maybe they’ll remember that at least one human treated them like a fucking person. And, if I’m really, really lucky-” I stopped. I dropped my head, pulling in my last shred of control, shoving that last thought with my oncoming tears into a vault, and took a massive, shuddering breath. He wouldn’t get that from me. He didn’t deserve it.

My whole body was shaking, my throat felt like I was choking on lava. My voice was quiet again, like gravel and sand sliding over my tongue. “I lost everything that day. All I have now is this job and these people. You don’t give me time for anything else anyway. Between your parties… Ha! Pardon me, benefits , and your business deals, and your friends. These people,” my eyes quickly left his to scan the room and return, “who are all better people than you’ll ever be.” 

I tapped the arm across my chest, and my feet touched the floor again. I hadn’t even realized they were dangling. “And it’s the only thing I’ve had control of since that day. I’ll be damned if I let Fury, or you, or anyone else take even a shred of what little autonomy or dignity I have left.” 

I felt the arms release me. I stood a moment, still shaking as I tried to slow my breathing, and I pulled myself as straight as I could, lifting my chin. “You can consider this my resignation, Mr. Stark. I will be out of your ivory tower within the hour.” I turned, and patted Thor’s arm with a look of thanks, almost smiling at his shocked expression, and limped toward the elevator.

“I can’t believe you just called an enraged widow a cat lady,” I heard Clint say as I pushed the call button.

“Dumbest genius ever,” Nat retorted.

The door opened and I hurtled in without looking, right into Steve’s chest. “Whoa! Cookie? What’re you…” then he noticed my face. “What happened?”

“I just quit. I’m going down to get my things. Excuse me, Steve.”

Bucky ushered us all into the elevator. “I’ll explain on the way down,” he said before Steve could protest.

I pushed the button and stood there leaning into the front corner, taking pressure off my leg, hugging myself, not really paying attention to the conversation.

The door opened again while Bucky was still talking. I crossed the lobby to the service elevator, super soldiers flanking me like bodyguards. By the time we reached the room I’d been using, both men had fallen silent. I opened the door and Bucky pushed past me into the room, hand on the gun he always carried concealed, scanning the room. I followed him inside. My body still felt taut, my voice like a bowstring. “Thank you for the escort, gentlemen. I can take it from here.” They ignored me as they searched the room.

I grabbed my bottle of scotch, sitting on the side table where Fury left it, still open because he’s a dick. I started to raise it to my lips. Then I looked at it and wondered if he would have drugged it or something. Then I thought that was ridiculous. Then I hated that I couldn’t not think about it. 

Then I threw the bottle against the wall with a scream of frustration. 

Both men were suddenly near me again, and I shrugged away from their hands. ”Please, don’t touch me right now.” I said firmly. “I told Stark I’d be out in another 30min and that won’t happen if I have a meltdown.” I went to the closet and grabbed my go-bag, then went to the bathroom grabbing my toiletries. I came back out to the bedroom and gathered up the few clothes I had unpacked, cramming them in the bag. 

As I was zipping it I felt hands on my upper arms and a voice say my name gently.

“Bucky,” I said stiffly, “just let it go. I’m so tired. No job is worth this shit.”

“No, Cookie,” he said, and his arms wrapped around me, holding my back against his chest, one around my waist, the other across my chest.

Steve sat on the bed in front of me, shifting my bag to the side. “We aren’t just going to let it go like this. I’ll talk to Tony.”

“I can’t, Steve, don’t you get it? I can’t keep doing this. Not for all the money in the world. I need to go.” My voice took on an edge of pleading “Bucky, let me go…”

“No,” he said again, his voice rough. “Can’t let you go like this. You deserve better.” He squeezed me, the stubble of his cheek rubbing harshly against my cheek and ear. “You matter,” he echoed my earlier words back to me, “as a person.” My breath hitched.

Steve took my hands and squeezed them. “You matter to all of us.”

I looked into his sincere blue eyes, felt his firm, calloused hands holding mine. I felt Bucky hugging me, unable to fully register the significance of him reaching out to me for the first time in that moment, but knowing it was deeply important. His arms fully enveloping me against the bulk of his body. I suddenly felt aware of how hard and how far I’d been pushing apart my body and my emotions. 

I struggled weakly against Bucky’s arms around me. “Bucky, I can’t… I can’t let it… please ,” but he just squeezed me tighter.

“We’ve got you,” Bucky murmured against my neck. “We’re not leaving you.” Their touch grounded me, forcing me back to my body in that one fully felt moment of care and the dam shattered inside me. A strangled sob wrenched itself out of me and I finally wept. My knees buckled under me as I wailed out my grief. All the exhaustion, pain and frustration of the past weeks, the months of strain, the near two years of loneliness and pain in my heart and body gushed out of me like a wound being lanced. My heart turned inside out in a way I hadn’t allowed myself since that day. I keened and screamed as I cried, anchored to the earth by nothing but the strength and warm weight of the two men holding me through it.

Chapter Text

I eventually emptied myself, tears wrung dry, and I began to be aware of my surroundings again. We had all ended up laying on the bed. My face was pressed into Steve’s chest, clutching the lapels of his suit, my right knee propped up on his hip. He smelled like warm summer afternoons outside, clean linens dried in the sun and just a hint of that musk of when I told my kids they “smelled like outside”, and fresh sage. My beanie was gone and he was petting my hair with one hand, the other arm under my head with the hand curled over my shoulder. Bucky was a solid weight at my back, spooning me, arms wrapped fully around my waist, his face pressed between my shoulder blades, muttering soft and soothing words I couldn’t make out, but I felt like they were maybe Russian. I laid there for a long minute more, relearning how to breathe. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so warm or safe or cared for. I could have cried again if I had any tears left, just out of gratitude to these two sweet men.

“I’m sorry,” I finally muttered, loosening my grip on Steve’s suit jacket. I looked up at him. 

His face was pained, his beautiful blue eyes shiny and red-rimmed with unshed tears. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Cookie.”

“Ugh,” I thumped my head back on his chest, “don’t call me that. That’s a Stark nickname.”

“Huh? I thought it was a Clint nickname. For those giant, amazing cookies you always make when someone has a bad day.”

I chuckled. “Well, if it’s that for you, maybe it’s ok.”

I had another moment of deep desire to just stay but pushed it down with another deep breath. “Anyway,” I patted his broad chest. It was every bit as amazing to snuggle against as I’d imagined. “I’m back now. As much as I love a good group snuggle, I need to get going.”

Steve nodded sadly and extricated himself enough to roll away and got up, moving into the other room.

“Bucky…” I rubbed his arms wrapped around my waist. The man at my back didn’t move, except to squeeze me a little. “Come on, Bucky, this is uncomfortable now with Steve not supporting my head.” His metal arm was a log under my waist that I was slumped over sideways.

“I understand what you meant by touch starved now.” I heard his voice muffled against my back. 

He loosened his grip enough for me to wiggle around ungracefully. I shimmied down to rest my cheek on his shoulder, wrapping one arm around him, my other folded between us, and pressing my face to his chest. It was also lovely, even if his arm and shoulder were hard under my cheek. “I’m glad you reached out for me, Bucky.” I stroked his back a little and I felt him relax a little into me, some of the tension leaking away as he felt me return his embrace. “I think we both needed it.”

He nodded and squeezed me again, pressing his face into my hair. ”I still don’t want to let you go like this.”

I looked up at him, his face was wet with tears, too. He was being vulnerable, and my whole chest squeezed with pride for how far he had come in a few short weeks, and affection that he was showing this side to me. “Bucky…” I reached up and finally  let my fingertips comb the hair back from his face, like I’d wanted to do for weeks. Something flitted across his face, like he was fighting himself not to chase my touch. “I’m quitting a job because my boss is an asshole. I’m sure we can find a way to still visit. Steve wouldn’t leave you hanging like that when you’re finally connecting with people.” I thumbed away the wetness on his cheeks, and his eyes closed, his breaths going shallow and tight in his chest. I pulled my hand away thinking that was too much for him, trying to play it off by moving on with a lighter comment. “Now, I need to get up and wash the hideously ugly cry I just had off my face.”

He pulled me as close as he could, burying his face in my hair and he muttered something else in Russian. But, then he let me go and I slipped off the bed and went to the bathroom.

I looked at my blotchy, puffy, tear-stained face and confirmed it was definitely the ugliest cry I’d ever had. I felt empty. Wrung out like I had no emotion or tears left in my body. Even my eyes looked hollow to me as they stared back from the mirror. I blew my nose, washed my face in cold water, and emerged to see Bucky and Steve sitting on the end of the bed, waiting for me, speaking quietly together.

“What’s up guys? You look like this is an intervention.”

“Just stay here tonight, Cookie.” Steve said reasonably. “It’s after 2. There’s no sense in trying to get home this late when you can just sleep here and go home in the morning.”

I opened my mouth to protest.

“Tony might be a jerk, but he isn’t heartless,” he added.

I sighed. “I know. I said I’d be gone, though. Also, I’m hungry, and there’s nothing to eat. I’ve just been sleeping here.”

He got up. “I’ll go back upstairs and get something.”

“Steve…”

He stopped, put his hands on my shoulders, and bent down to kiss the top of my head. “It’s okay, Cookie. Let us do something for you for a change.”

I sighed. “Okay.”

He left and I went to my bag, now sitting on the vanity in the corner. One of them must have moved it at some point. I pulled out flannel pajama pants, my last clean t-shirt and underwear and a soft pullover bra. “I guess I’ll take a shower if I’m staying tonight. Nobody wants to go to bed smelling like a kitchen.” 

I scrubbed down in the shower and emerged from the bathroom to a delicious smell and soft music. Steve had retrieved three of the grab-and-go meals I keep stocked in the penthouse fridge and was microwaving them. Bucky was grabbing utensils from the drawer and opening a bottle of wine. One of them had also cleaned up the shattered half bottle of scotch in the corner.

“Wine, too? Just spoiling me to convince me to stay, Steve?”

Steve huffed. “Nat sent it. With her compliments on ‘a masterful evisceration’. Said she’s never seen Tony that dumbstruck. Makes me think I should have JARVIS pull up the footage for me.” He indicated a plate that Bucky slid in front of me. “Clint sent ‘bad day cookies for our best Cookie’.” 

I gasped. “That fucking gremlin… he found my dough stash again!” Then, I laughed and shrugged. “Guess they’re all his now.” They were still warm. Big as my hand, thick and chewy oatmeal cookies loaded with dark chocolate chips, walnuts, dried cherries, and just a little orange zest and spice. I took a bite as Bucky handed me a glass. The light red Nat sent even complimented it. I sniffed with joy, eyes closed. “God, I love you all so much… You two need to eat yours while they’re warm.”

Bucky took his gladly, taking a big bite. I swear his eyes rolled back in his head, and a sound came out of his throat that was so downright erotic it made my ears tingle. 

I grinned at him teasingly. “Good?”

“Jesus Christ, that’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” he moaned. 

Steve laughed, starting on his own with a hum of satisfaction. He was no stranger to the bad day cookie now, but I remembered his first reaction being pretty good as well, though these weren’t his favorite. “You should try her apple pie version of these, Buck. Even better.”

“Not possible, punk. Nothing could be better than this.”

I grinned. It was so reassuring to know that all these wonderful people supported me, each in their own way. I had a glimmer of hope that they might even still be there for me after tonight. That maybe they were more than friendly clients. Maybe they had grown into just being friends and they actually cared for a very normal person like me.

Steve finished warming the three dishes and brought them over. Two super soldier portions of meatloaf with garlic mashed potatoes and buttered green beans and a normal portion of chicken breast with sundried tomato pesto, wild mushroom risotto and garlic roasted broccoli. Bucky came around to sit at the other stool beside me. Steve leaned against the counter across from us. Both of them were soon tucking in with their usual gusto.

“How is food just so much better now, Stevie? Even stuff like this that we had back in the day.”

“I know,” he answered his friend around a mouthful of green bean, “They stopped boiling everything and vegetables aren’t a chore now.”

I laughed. “I’m glad you’re both enjoying it.”

We finished eating and Bucky cleaned up the dishes while Steve and I finished our glasses of wine. I stared down at my glass pensively.

“Penny for a cookie’s thoughts?” Steve asked.

“Just that going home alone still sounds better than being here alone.”

“Who said you’d be here alone?” Bucky asked as he turned around drying his hands with a dish towel. “I’m not going anywhere. Not with Fury skulking around you.”

“Bucky, I can’t ask y-”

He said my name quietly, coming over and taking my empty glass. “You didn’t ask, sweetheart. Neither did I.” There was something heavy in his eyes and voice, fierce and protective.

I stared at him. Then, I looked at Steve. He shrugged, “You heard the man,” he smirked at his friend, “sweetheart.”

I don’t think he fully realized he’d called me that until Steve pointed it out, and his just a little pink crept across his cheeks, but continued. “Okay?” Bucky asked.

I felt a blush creeping up in my own face, embarrassed by the sheer weight of their focus on me. “Okay.”

He put the glass in the sink and smiled at me. “Then, I think it’s time for bed.” He came around and offered me his hand. “I’ll even tuck you in before I bunk down on the couch,” he smirked.

“Bold of you to think you’d just tuck me in after all that spooning earlier.”

He froze, and I thought I heard a snick behind me. It was confirmed by the look Bucky shot over my shoulder

“Good night,” Steve said, getting up. I caught his hand on the way by and he froze, too. I had a split second to second guess my impulse, but I couldn’t let it go by.

“Is it too selfish to want you both to stay?” My voice was barely a whisper, but I know he heard me as I watched the blush climb up the back of his neck to his ears. “Steve, I’m not making overtures here.” My eyes met his as he turned enough to meet my eyes before mine shifted to the other man. “With either of you, Bucky. We’ve all been through a lot, and I’m exhausted. I at least don’t have room for that kind of energy right now.” They were both looking down at me now, faces different kinds of unreadable. “Earlier, it was just …really nice. It felt so safe. Just to hold someone and be held. I just thought maybe… we all could use a little more of that.”

I slipped off the stool, dropped their hands with a thankful squeeze and stepped past them toward the bedroom. “I’m not pressuring either of you.” I looked at them both. “Only join me if you want. And, it never has to come up again. I never want to make a friend uncomfortable. You both mean more to me than that.”

I walked into the bedroom, turned off the light, grabbed my bonnet from my bag, and plugged my phone in, leaving it on the side table. I was thankful for the first time that the foot of the bed faced the door, so if anyone joined me, there wouldn’t be a fight about who slept on the door side. I heard them talking quietly in the other room as I climbed into the center of the bed, curled on my right side and pulled up the covers, closing my eyes. My gut squeezed as I heard soft noises from the end of the bed, boots thudding against the floor, a belt buckle. I smiled softly without opening my eyes and lifted the cover in front of me with my arm, inviting him in. 

“You get to be little spoon this time. No guns in bed though.” He chuckled, and the sound felt somehow closer in the dark. I heard another buckle, a soft sound, and the quiet clunk of something solid on the dresser, then the mattress dipped as a solid form slid under the cover and against me. I snuggled up against Bucky, molding my hips behind his, tucking one arm under my head. The other slid under his metal arm and up to rest my hand over his heart, and my face nuzzled into his back between his shoulder blades. He smelled of leather, gun oil and something faintly spicy and herbal that reminded me of bay leaf. I hummed contentedly against the firm curve of him. “Is this okay, Buck? I don’t want you to feel restrained at all.”

His breath caught, but then he pressed his hand over mine. “It’s good,” he answered quietly. “How did you know?”

I smiled against his back. “Boots. Steve is wearing a suit and dress shoes.”

 He huffed, “Not that.” 

“You’re always armed, it helps you feel secure. I know you wouldn’t settle in a position where you couldn’t defend yourself in a moment.” I idly played with the material of the henley against his chest. “I hope someday you can feel safe enough to not think about that every time you sleep.” His breath tensed quietly agian and I squeezed him. He relaxed over the next few minutes, his breaths evening out, and I felt his heart slow between my hand and face.

Then, I heard another sound of shoes, a belt, and a soft whisper of fabric. I freed my hand from Buck gently, reached behind me and lifted the covers again. It was a long moment before I felt the bed dip again and Steve get into bed behind me. I disengaged from Bucky enough to lean back a little and reach for him. He took my hand, but didn’t move when I tugged after a moment. I finally looked up at him in the dark, the barest light filtering from the bathroom door to let me see the lost expression on his face. “Steve, you don’t have to if you aren’t comfortable. I would never pressure you like that.”

“I know, I just don’t…”  Steve was a prude, but he seemed to want this, wanted to believe he could have it, and he didn’t know how to square that round.

I smiled knowingly, and then turned to nuzzle my other bedmate’s shoulder blade. “I’ll be right back, Bucky.”

I sat up and looked at him, still holding my hand as he kneeled on the bed in his slacks and cotton undershirt. “Steve, tell me if you want to be part of this. That you want to be here just to cuddle and sleep and be cozy with people you trust. I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me.”

He hesitated for a long minute and then nodded.

I shook my head. “No, Steve, use your words. I need you to look me in the eyes and actively tell me you want to be part of this. If you don’t, or you aren’t sure, that is fine, but I feel like maybe you are the kind of person who needs to say a thing to accept the truth in it sometimes.”

I held his hand, stroking his knuckles gently with my thumb, watching him without expectation on my face. He looked in my eyes for a long time before he finally licked his lips, nodded, and quietly said, “I want this.”

I smiled softly. “That was perfect, Steve. Would you like me to help you figure out how to fit into the situation so you can be comfortable?”

He nodded again. “Please.”

Steve was practically a poster boy for repression, so I had to make sure there wasn’t anything too close to compromising. He also had a dose of PTSD, though not as bad as Buck in regards to being on a hair trigger, so he needed not to feel confined. I ultimately had him lay also on his right side in a way that was most comfortable to him about my hip width behind Buck so I could figure out a position between them after. He ended up on his side, tipped toward his stomach, arm under the pillow. 

I slipped between them. My bottom leg slid against the mattress, extended under Steve’s top leg. My other leg cocked so I could rest my knee against Bucky’s hip and waist, no groins touching anything. Then laid my head back down between Bucky’s shoulders and Steve’s chest, one arm curled under my head. I gave Steve a choice of places to rest his arm and my heart gave a little flutter when he chose to entwine his fingers with mine where they rested over my waist. I nuzzled my face into Bucky’s back again and both men snuggled just a little closer against me once I felt situated. I felt both of them relax around me, felt their breathing soften and deepen with mine, and I drifted off awash in the smell of leather and sunshine.

Chapter Text

I felt Steve wake first, and I just lay there contently, letting him sort it out as he took in his surroundings. We hadn’t migrated much, but both men ran hot, so the covers had been shoved down at some point. Steve was leaning on me more, shifting us to lean on Bucky a bit who had sprawled more onto his stomach and our hands had drifted up over Bucky’s back. Then I heard what had woken him. My phone. 

I groaned quietly. “It’s Pepper…” Steve reached behind him for it and handed it to me and then cuddled back in.

“Yeah…” I answered groggily.

“I do not accept your resignation, chef.”

“Tough tits, Potts,” I growled quietly, “control your man, then.”

“Tony doesn’t pay you. I do, for that exact reason.”

“Pepper,” I said groggily and quietly grumpy, because I refused to let my brain fully emerge from the cocoon of comfort I found myself in, ”I have slept an average of three hours a night since I came back from my alleged vacation three weeks ago. Waking me on what would have been my one day off is not how you change my mind.”

“Fair. I will be at the tower for lunch at 12. Let’s talk. I’ll bring sushi.”

I groaned. “Fine… There had better be a lot. With mackerel and yellowfin sashimi.”

“Of course.'' She hung up and I looked at the time. 9am. 5-ish hours of sleep was better than the average of late. But I wasn’t getting up out of this warm dream until someone dragged me screaming. I tucked the phone under the pillows and draped myself against Bucky’s shoulder and Steve wrapped an arm around my waist, sleepily nuzzling my head.

I dozed amid the warmth that surrounded me and we drifted in and out of sleep. Someone would casually caress someone else, then fade. Steve would nuzzle my shoulder, or my hand would drift along Bucky’s side, or Bucky would reach behind and pull my leg up over his hip. I would run my arm along Bucky’s shoulders and down the cool smoothness of metal, draping myself more fully over his back, and Steve would do the same with me until we lay like neat shingles across the bed. It was one of the most content moments I’d ever felt in my life and I would have stayed forever.

But all things end, and eventually, we all emerged reluctantly from the cozy bubble. Steve left first, kissing my head and whispering a near silent thank you against my ear. I heard the door, which startled Bucky, nearly tossing me off the bed. I shushed at him and explained it was just Steve leaving, and he schooled his breathing back down. He sat down on the edge of the bed again, setting the gun down on the side table. He looked down at me, all warm and sleep rumpled and a little embarrassed and he was just adorable. “I don’t sleep that heavy. Ever.”

I smiled as I slid to the edge of the bed. “It sounds like you needed it. I know I did.” I winced as my bad leg protested taking weight for the first time today.

“You okay?”

“Nothing unusual. I’ll work around it like always. Just takes some time to work out the stiffness in the morning. I’ll be a minute to get moving if you want to use the bathroom first.” He did, and I limped to my bag, extracting my jeans, street shoes, and hoodie. I figured after this meeting I’d either be going to my apartment to pack, or jobless, so no point in going back to change before. I wasn’t ruling out that something could convince me to stay. I had no idea what that might be, but Potts was an incredibly resourceful woman and I didn’t discount her determination or knack for negotiating. Bucky took me along, back up to the penthouse commons to smiles from the team already gathered there, looking hopeful that if I was still in the building maybe I wouldn’t be quitting after all.

Then, the heroes had gone to do team exercises, dragging Bucky along for his first group training. So, I sat alone on the couch in the Avenger’s common area, drinking my second cup of coffee, checking my messages when I was greeted and Pepper came up next to me, depositing a tray of sushi and sashimi, and a bottle of sake on the coffee table. “Sorry for waking you up this morning.”

“Nine o’clock isn’t the most unreasonable time to expect a phone call, my grumpiness was largely situational.”

“And understandable. Tony can be an ass, and he jumps without thinking constantly, but he wants to do good.”

“I’m sure you heard the recording.” She nodded. “Him trying to ‘do better’ doesn’t make my words less true.”

“I’m not going to argue that with you.” She said it in a way that fully said she disagreed, but had more productive things to do. I appreciated that about Pepper. Her tenacious ability to maintain focus is probably one of the reasons she and Tony worked.

I got up and went to the cabinet for glasses. “Glad to hear it.”

She watched me moving around for a second. “How bad is it?”

I set the glasses on the table and cracked the bottle. “I finally slept, so slightly better than last night. Not good.”

I pulled the sushi tray close and sat down again with my glass, handing one to Pepper. “So what is your proposal?” I took a little soy sauce and wasabi in a dipping dish.

“That you keep working for the Avengers.”

I laughed, it still sounded a little hollow. “That’s how Fury started all this last night.” I dipped a nigiri and shoved it in my mouth.

She sighed and turned sideways, tucking her legs up on the couch with her glass, taking that “girl talk” posture. “I’ve been watching your purchasing for months. I know how you’ve been spending the food and supply budget.” 

“So are you firing me, or renegotiating, Potts? I’m lost.”

“You’re thoughtful, smart, and resourceful. You’re leveraging small producers, bolstering local economies with the resources you’re allocated, and I like it. You’re deliberate and passionate about your ethics, but you’re imminently practical. We need more of that.”

“Pepper,” I said with a smirk, my voice a pleased sounding purr, “you bring me sashimi, sake and compliments? I’m gonna start wondering if you’re coming on to me.”

She smirked back, “I’m letting you see that I know what we would be losing. You’ve made a difference around here. I think they need you. Even Tony. You ground them, remind them there’s a world out there beyond all the Avengers craziness.”

I took another swig of sake and leaned back. “What are you proposing?”

“Personal chef to the Avengers.”

A laugh barked out of me. “That’s still exactly what I do now, Potts.”

“I’m getting a new executive chef, cafeteria chef, and event chef. You would be Food and Beverage Director, so you can still ‘reappropriate’ SI money as you see fit, but not be bogged down by daily operations.” 

I laughed again. “Nice of you to just admit I’ve been doing the job of four people.” 

“And you’ll be making as much as three of them.”

“I would have to get final say in hiring.

She nodded like that was obvious. “I also want to give you a seat on the board.”

“Absolutely not.” I slugged down the rest of the glass and reached for the bottle again. “You aren’t sucking me into your corporate black hole.” I grabbed the chopsticks and ate a piece of sashimi as I leaned back again. “I can be a part of the machine, or I can be the conscience of this operation. I won’t be both.”

“A contracted consultant to the board, then.”

“I will give annual recommendations.”

“And the Avengers?”

“If they want to hire me, they can negotiate separately.”

She smiled. “Tony will come talk to you.” After that we settled into a smoother conversation about what had been happening downstairs and my expectations for transitioning out of operations.

Tony came in to find me a couple of hours later, walking up with a pair of beers in his hand. I took the one he offered me and he sat on the couch, but not too close. He obviously wanted to have a conversation, but I’d never seen the man look so uncomfortable.

I was finishing an email. “What’s up, Tony?”

“I, uh… I finally read your file.”

I hummed in neutral acknowledgement and closed my laptop.

“I’m sorry. About what happened to you, and what I said last night.”

I stared at him.

His eyes darted over to me and back to his bottle. “What? I’m capable of apologizing…”

“Yeah, but I expected some ridiculous gift rather than a vocal one. Like Chuck was.”

He smirked. “You prefer that?”

“No, actually.” I chuckled, taking a swig. “But, I might learn to like this Tony that will talk to me like a fellow grown up.”

He sighed. “You were right. I looked at your old contract, too, and JARVIS told me about your logged hours. I never paid attention to how much you do around here. That week you just weren’t around…”

“You mean the week I was supposed to be on vacation, but still worked 50 hours downstairs?”

He nodded. “I noticed, everyone did. You’re not just the help, Cookie, you keep this place running. You make it a place worth all of us coming back to. Even for me, and you hate me.”

I took another swig. “I don’t hate you, Tony. You frustrate me. Near constantly.”

He laughed, “You, Pepper and Steve should start a club.”

I chuckled, “Bold of you to think we haven’t.”  

He smirked, and it was a little rueful at the edges.

I continued a little more gently. “We are very different in ways neither of us will be able to fully understand about the other. I’ll never know what being too rich for jail is like, and you’ll never know what government cheese or sugar sandwiches taste like. We may never be besties, but I don’t think you’re a bad guy, Tony. I do believe you’re trying, but I wish you’d not jump in with both feet immediately. Maybe try a little harder to listen when people are trying to tell you you’re being impulsive.”

He thought for a long moment. “Fair enough.”

Over the next few days ensued a grueling and occasionally loud set of negotiations between myself, Captain America, Iron Man, and Pepper Potts as a mediator, or maybe as Tony’s protection. The billionaire had since decided he liked my attitude, and the fact I had precisely zero patience for him, saying that I kept him on his toes. His liking me didn’t seem to be working in my favor just yet, as antagonism seemed to be Tony’s other main love language, after gifts. Jarvis seemed to have a new nickname programmed every other day.

A couple of weeks later I had taken up residence in the penthouse. I promoted Javier to cafeteria chef and was training a new event chef while still interviewing for an executive chef. I soon took to making the Avengers commons my informal office when I wasn’t needed downstairs. I liked that it was generally quiet, but with breaks of friendly interaction with the team as they filtered in and out over the course of a day, each on their own schedules. I was often curled at one end of the couch with my laptop, answering emails, researching vendors or farms for contract proposals, writing schedules and budgets or doing payroll. 

Steve came in this particular evening, rolling his shoulder painfully.

“Rough training session?” I asked.

“Just tight today,” he answered. “Must have slept wrong.” He dipped into the fridge for a smoothie. “Doesn’t seem like that should happen anymore, but it does.”

“C’mere, Cap,” I said helpfully. I put my laptop aside and sat up, scooting closer to the edge of the couch so I could put my feet on the floor.

“Oh, I’m fine!” he said nervously. He’d relaxed around me somewhat since our night of platonic cuddles, but seemed incredibly worried about what other people might think if he was to seem too friendly with me. I wasn’t entirely sure if he worried for my reputation or his own.

“Steve,” I said pointedly, “don’t be stubborn for the sake of it.” I pointed at the spot on the floor between my knees. “You. Here.” I patted the front of the couch between my legs rhythmically. “Front and center, Captain.” I ordered smartly.

He smirked and shook his head. Then he came and settled between my feet.

I smoothed my hands over his shoulders and up his neck gently, letting him get used to my touch, the temperature of my hands, cooler than his serum-enhanced warmth, while I assessed the stiffness of his muscles. I increased the pressure, the customary tightness of his t-shirt letting it drag only slightly under my hands. His head dropped forward and I kneaded up his neck and down with my thumbs. My hands squeezed his trapezius and he sighed. I found the knot in his right shoulder, digging my knuckle in as he grunted and then groaned as it released. I pulled his arms up over my legs so his biceps hooked over my knees. I worked down to his shoulder blades and back up, kneading and digging over his neck, shoulders, arms and upper chest, noting the pressure he liked until he moaned and melted back against the couch.

I chuckled and lightened the pressure again gradually until I was dragging gentle nails across his shoulders and upper back as he purred under my touch. I smoothed my hands over everything again gently and he lolled his head back against me. I chuckled. “Hey, Cap,” I said softly, “how ya doin’ down there, buddy?”

He groaned again. “Never let me hesitate again… I swear you’re magic.” 

I chuckled again. “You’re welcome.”

He lingered there for several minutes as my hands just smoothed idly over his shoulders and around his collarbones as he leaned against me. My hands eventually stilled at the curve where his shoulder began, my thumbs gently stroking along his neck. His fingers idled over my shins and calves where they hung loosely. I gingerly wrapped my arms over his chest and rested my cheek against the top of his head just long enough to whisper, “Thank you, Steve,” before pulling away again. 

He opened his eyes, looking up at me with that cerulean gaze. “For what?”

“For trusting me,” I said quietly. My fingertips grazed the lines of his throat stretched under me, gentle as a whisper. “I never see you relax like this, at least not around people. It means a lot to me. You and Bucky both.”

I saw just the faintest tinge of pink cross his cheeks, and he seemed about to say something.

“What about us both?” Bucky came strolling in, smirk on his face. Damn super soldier hearing. He took in the relaxed lines of his friend, languidly reclined against me. “I feel like I’m missing out on something.” I don’t know if Steve heard him and didn’t mind him seeing, or if the former Winter Soldier’s stealth had beat his blissed out friend’s senses, but he didn’t seem bothered by Bucky’s intrusion on the moment.

I grinned wickedly at him. “Get over here and find out, Sarge.”

He paused, just a moment, something crossing his face, before he sauntered over.

I smiled down at Steve. “I think Buck wants some attention, too.”

He smirked. “I suppose I can share.” He lifted up and scooted over, but didn’t get up. He just shifted outside of my knees, leaving enough room for Bucky to sit where he had been.

Bucky stopped in front of me. I leaned forward and looked up at his pale eyes, under the curtain of his hair. “C’mere, Bucky.”

He glanced at Steve, still looking just a little drowsy, and settled between my legs where his friend had been.

I leaned down. “Let me know if you feel uncomfortable and I’ll stop. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I started the same way I did with Steve, hands smoothing gently over his shoulders and neck. He flinched as my fingers touched the seam of his prosthetic. I stilled for a moment. “It’s okay for you not to be ready. I can stop.”

I started to pull my hands away, and he caught them with his. “No. I… I think I’m okay if it’s you.”

I smiled and started again. “Okay.” I could feel the imbalance in his neck and upper back from the way his body constantly fought to balance the arm, forever carrying extra weight on one side. “Put your arms up on my legs, Bucky. It’s okay.” 

He looked up at me for a moment. Then he did, and while the prosthetic was heavier than I expected, it wasn’t too heavy resting over my knee where my lower leg could take the weight without extra effort. I increased the pressure more gradually than I did with Steve, but ended up kneading more roughly on Bucky. Digging into the muscles around the scars I could feel through his shirt, though I’d never seen them. Kneading hard into the muscles along his spine and deep in his upper back as he hissed but told me it was good. It took more time and patience but eventually knots decades old started to release in my hands. I was soon humming softly under my breath as I worked.

I kept digging and finally he gave a guttural groan and relaxed against the couch. I kneaded and worked over his left shoulder and over into his pec, back over his shoulder and up and down his neck and over to his right side. Eventually, I was using a more normal pressure and feeling him start to melt into my touch. 

I continued to rub and knead across the parts of his shoulders and chest I could easily reach until he moaned blissfully. My touch gradually grew lighter until I was dragging my nails gently over him as he purred and his head lolled back against me, eyes closed. Steve’s head rested on one hand behind him on the couch, the other still stroking my calf lightly. 

I looked down at them, like sides of a coin, dark and light. Steve, looking the paragon, not a hair or thread out of place, tall and cut and barrel chested, a poster boy for the ‘perfect man’ touted by those he fought decades ago. Bucky, looking the byronic anti-hero, withdrawn and wary, slightly shorter, but thicker through the shoulder and thigh, hair constantly falling in his face. So different, but equally beautiful and vulnerable below me. My heart fluttered and my chest went tight at the weight of their trust. My thumbs stroked Bucky’s neck and then came up to comb his hair back with my fingers. He opened his pale blue eyes and looked up at me like he was half drunk. 

“Hey, Sarge… You okay?” I asked with a gently playful smile.

“Fuck, sweetheart…” he rumbled.

“Language…” Steve rumbled back.

Bucky and I chuckled.

I carded through his hair one more time and his eyes closed again. Then, suddenly they both sat up and were off the floor and I nearly whined at the sudden loss of them, how quickly they had snapped back to control. Bucky plopped down beside me and asked what we were going to watch tonight. Steve sat on the other side of me.

“Hey, is it movie night?” Clint asked as he and Nat came in.

“We were just deciding what we’re going to watch.” I said lightly, following their lead. “I’m thinking Disney tonight.” And there the debate began as I picked up my laptop again, between the two super soldiers, leaning back against Bucky’s arm behind me while I finished my work, and Steve’s hand occasionally brushing my knee or arm beside him when he thought nobody would notice.

Chapter Text

Natasha was going through my closet, throwing things on my bed. “Why do you not have a single cocktail dress in here?”

I shouted back at her from the bathroom. “Do I strike you as the kind of person who does a lot of cocktail parties? Parties that I’m not working?” I was a casual dresser at the best of times. My wardrobe largely consisted of tees, hoodies, comfy sweaters, yoga pants and jeans. It hadn’t expanded much even though I didn’t have to wear a chef uniform most of the time anymore. Mostly, I’d just added a couple of business casual slacks and tops for when I had to make an official appearance downstairs.

“If I’d known the pickings were this slim I’d have bought you something. Next time, I will. You don’t even own a skirt?!”

“Bitch, have you seen these thighs? I chafe so bad in a skirt it’s practically a fire hazard.” I shuddered at the idea of what slinky thing the Widow might try to get me to wear in public. I was highly conscious of my body. Mostly of how other people felt about it. I hadn’t been skinny since I was a child. I was one of those girls puberty had hit hard and fast, with the stretch marks and teenage memories of harassment to prove it. But motherhood and then stress and overwork plus my injury making exercise difficult had done its part over the last few years to thicken me from curvy into what polite people generally called full-bodied or plus-size. I wasn’t ashamed about my body. In fact, I liked being nude when I was alone and didn’t mind people seeing my body if I felt safe around them. I just didn’t have patience for people with opinions about it, so I kept opportunities to express those opinions to a minimum. And I liked to dress comfortably.

“Why the hell does it matter, Nat? We’re just two friends going out for dinner, who the fuck am I trying to impress?” She’d convinced me to put on some light makeup she’d brought for me, and I was keeping it neutral, though I did spring for a bright, coral lipstick because it was a great color on me and I’d always thought my lips were one of my better features. My hair hung loose and curly, draping lightly over the top of my shoulders

“Maybe you’ll meet someone,” she said like she actually believed it.

“Nat,” I said, coming out of the bathroom in my underwear, and going to the vanity to look for some earrings, “I don’t want to meet anyone like that. I don’t need to ‘get laid’, and I don’t care to be ‘set up’, okay?”

“Why?” She watched me, looking me over as I moved across the room. “You deserve to have someone.” I hated the way she said it like I did and she didn’t.

I saw her in the vanity mirror over my shoulder, catching her eyes as they involuntarily flicked down. “That’s why,” I said tersely. My size was one thing, my scars were another. They started at my knee and wound up my outer thigh, over the hip and buttock in a gnarled silvery mass and exploded up across my flank and the left side of my back. “I’m not interested enough in getting to know someone as a partner only to get intimate and find out they are either grossed out by or fetishistic about scars.” I turned around and leaned against the vanity. “I have wonderful friends. People who can accept me and my limits, who will hold my hand, or cuddle in front of a movie if I need skinship. People I can offer the kind of safety and intimacy most people just substitute with sex.”

I saw the microexpression. Just the barest tightening of the lips, a flicker behind her eyes. A full flinch for someone of her training.

My expression softened. I walked over to see what she'd picked. “That’s not a judgment, Nat. You are where you are and so am I.” I reached my hand out to the side and took hers, giving it a squeeze without looking at her. “Thank you for caring so much about my happiness. I love you, too.”

“Just get dressed, you sap,” she snarked, but I could see the shadow of a smile at the corner of her mouth and she squeezed back. “I’m starving.”

I chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

She had picked a dark teal, off-the shoulder sweater that tapered in through the waist and hip with a pair of black gauchos and my nicest pair of shoes, knee-high black leather boots with a low heel. We made it to the common floor and Nat got out and headed toward the common room. “Something wrong, Nat?”

“I think I left my phone out on the observation deck earlier.”

I followed, skeptical.

We emerged onto the deck into a full on party. They’d strung up twinkle lights, music was playing, every kind of takeout you could ask for was laid out from sushi to curry to pizza, and I’m pretty sure they consulted JARVIS on my favorites. Tony swept up immediately. “Hey, Cookie! Lady of the hour!” Everyone was present and looked up.

“What is all this?” I looked around in mild awe as I took the flute of champagne he offered.

“Happy second Avenger-versary, Cookie!” he toasted to a chorus of “Happy anniversary!” from everyone else.

I looked at Nat. “You sneaky bitch.”

She smiled sweetly. “Have fun, Cookie,” and she sauntered off to the buffet table.

“I think this makes you an honorary Avenger.” Tony said, clinking his beer with my glass and finishing it off.

“Cute.” I gave him a snarky smile. “But, don’t think wasting money on me is going to make me think better of you, Tony.” He laughed and wandered off, probably to find a refill.

“Not a waste if you deserve it, girl.” Clint said, coming in to give me a hug. “Lookin’ cute as hell tonight, Cookie.” Then he leaned in, with a secretive bit of side eye, “Don’t look now, but you might be turning some heads.” His lean gave me a glance over his shoulder where Sam was talking with Steve and Bucky, both of whom had been looking in my direction until I looked up. 

I looked back at the man near my ear so he could read my lips, “Who do you think you are, Cupid?”

“I’d look pretty cute in nothing but those little wings though, right?” He pecked me on the cheek, took my hand and spun me out across the open deck while I laughed.

I was deftly caught up by Thor in a spinning hug. “Happy anniversary, dear lady. Am I to understand that you are an honorary Avenger now?”

I laughed, “Don’t expect me to be out there saving the world with you any time soon, big guy.”

“There are people far more important to a battle than combatants, my lady.” I yelped in surprise as he boosted me up effortlessly so I was perched sitting on one of his forearms, leaning against his shoulder. 

“Thor!” I laughed. “What are you doing?”

“Come, your glass is empty and as the guest of honor this shall not stand,” he grinned up at me jovially. 

“Because you and Clint made me slosh it all out, you menace! Party foul!” I laughed as he carried me to the drink table like a toddler.

He held me for a long time as we chatted and joked. He seemed content and knew I enjoyed it, so we just stayed like that. Eventually, I was perched on his broad shoulder and bicep, held by his arm curled over my lap. I sat there, just resting on my arm atop of his head, my chin in hand, looking out at the city lights, taking in his scent. Cool and energetic, it was the smell of petrichor and the cold wall of air proceeding a stormfront with a hint of ozone.

“You have grown quiet,” he said eventually. “Is there something troubling you, my lady?”

“Far from it, actually. It’s been a long time since I felt so… content? Since I lost my family, I never thought there would really be another home for me, and I thought I was fine with that.” He slid me back down onto his forearm so he could look at my face better. “I just figured I’d find fulfillment some other way. But, knowing all of you… I wouldn’t give up my friendships with any of you for anything. I’m starting to think you’ve all become my new family.”

“I, too, greatly value our friendship, my lady.” His face was so open and earnest as he smiled warmly at my words. “You are as valiant as any hero here and I am proud to know you would consider me a brother.” I smiled back at him and butted my forehead against his affectionately.

“Vibes too serious over here! I thought this was a party!” We were joined by Clint and Sam on one side, and Nat was walking up behind us with the champagne. I held my glass down behind us, having to lean against Thor’s head a bit to reach my glass down far enough.

“How’s it going, big guy? Looks pretty cozy up there.”

“I have no complaints concerning my current situation, Barton.” Thor answered fervently, with a little shake of his head that definitely jostled my boobs a bit.

I came back up with my glass and very intentionally rested my bosom on top of the golden god’s head. “Why, Clint, are you jealous?” I asked coyly as I took a drink.

“You bet your ass I am.”

“Don’t look up, Thor,” Sam laughed, “You might suffocate.”

Thor laughed. “I can think of no greater way to reach Valhalla.” 

Then, he turned, took me in both arms and straight up motorboated me as I cackled, “To Valhalla!”

“Well, damn, now I’m really jealous! When do I get a trip to Valhalla?”

“You had one, Clint,” I countered, “that’s how you lost the cuddle championship.” I took another sip. “But you let me know if you ever want a rematch.”

“Immediately!”

“Well, brave soul, before you may face the queen of cuddles,” I tapped Thor’s shoulder, “first you’ll have to defeat my chosen champion!” Thor put me down and attacked Barton with an exultant bellow, chasing him across the deck as we roared with laughter.

I made my way over to the food, picking up a slice of pizza. The two super soldiers were eating nearby and I sauntered over. “May I join you?”

“Of course.” Steve smiled. “Having a good time?”

I took a bite as I watched Clint roll over a table then dive back under it as Thor dove for him, arms wide, yelling at him for being a coward when he was the one who had issued the challenge. “Oh, I’m having a great time,” I chuckled. 

The music changed to “In the Mood” by the Glenn Miller Orchestra. I started tapping my foot. Steve looked at me for a long moment and then he smiled and offered me a hand. I took it with a smile and he pulled me out onto the open part of the deck into a swing. I was happy to see him fully having a good time. We were both grinning as the song wrapped and he spun me in a relentless circle that ended in a low dip. He leaned down to kiss me on the cheek, muttering a “thanks”. I muttered back that I expected more than one dance from him.

Then it changed to “Rock It For Me” by Caravan Palace, and I gasped as Steve spun me directly into Bucky who took off with me seamlessly, like they’d done it a hundred times, and maybe they had. Bucky swept me into a dazzling lindy hop. We bobbed and he weaved me in and out, up and down, over, under and through at such a pace I didn’t even have time to think about anything but following wherever his hands, his arms, his hips sent me and I gave myself fully to his lead until the song came to its grand finale, my chest heaving as we grinned at each other. I’d never seen him so full of life, like for those few minutes all those 70-odd years of pain melted away and he was that carefree, joyful, joking young man of the early forties I’d only heard about. I thought in that second I’d give anything to see him smile like that every day. There were whoops and whistles, even Thor and Clint had stopped their chase to watch us.

Then it was “Uptown Funk” and everyone was up to boogie with me, I even managed to drag Bruce to his feet, though that may have been whatever happened in his head after I bent low to whisper, “I bet Hulk would dance with me”. JARVIS kept the energy up through a couple more dances, and then just as my leg began to protest the idea of being upright any longer the music slowed down for “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” as sung by Diana Krall and Steve was there. 

Only to have Sam cut in and sweep me away as I giggled and waved back at the stunned blonde. “I did not expect this kind of chicanery from you, Sam.”

“Need to keep those old men on their toes. They need to step it up if they’re ever going to get to Valhalla.”

I laughed. “Bold of you to assume anyone but Thor and Clint are that interested.”

Sam smirked, “Bold of you to think I’m not.” He pulled me close and looked down at me, putting some heat in it.

I cocked my head and looked at him closely. “No… I mean, everyone likes a great set of knockers yeah, but no, I don’t think you are. I don’t think I’m your type. You like me as a person, but at the moment you’re in it for the mischief.” 

He didn’t deny it as he gave me a little spin.

I shrugged, “Thor and Clint aren’t really either, honestly. If it weren’t for Jane, Thor probably wouldn’t turn me down if I asked, but that’s just because he’s Asgardian and would be down for a good time with a friend. Clint is an agent of pure chaos who will do most things for fun, including acting a shameless flirt and a lech. Sometimes, I wonder if it’s a front he puts up, though.”

Sam looked a little surprised by the fullness of my analysis. “And what about our old men?”

I smirked up at him. “Why don’t you ask them, Sam?” He was suddenly flanked by the two men in question, Steve clapping him on the shoulder, pulling him in and away with a grin as Bucky stepped up and the song changed again. “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra.

“Do you have one more in you, sweetheart?”

“For you, absolutely.”

It wasn’t exactly a slow dance, but he made it work, kind of a low key foxtrot. “If I’d known you like to dance so much, I would have asked you sooner, Cookie.”

“It’s been a long time since I danced like this, Bucky. I’m a little surprised I still remember how.”

“Same for me.”

“Maybe we could do it again sometime,” I said, just a little hopefully.

He gave me a soft and warm smile, with just a little shyness that I felt right down to my toes. “I’d like that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

The song ended and he offered me his arm, which I gladly took. My leg was getting that fine tingle it often took right before it started cramping. We each got another drink and he led me to one of the lounges, sitting beside me. “Is your leg hurting?”

“Starting to. Might need a couple more of these to loosen it back up.” Tony had made me a Manhattan. One thing I would give the man credit for every time was good taste in booze and knowing how to mix a good drink.

And then Bucky surprised me by pulling my legs up into his lap. He had been more free with his touches of late, but it was mostly small things, side hugs, touching my back or arm when we passed, taking my hand, or pulling me close to lean against him when we watched TV in the common room. Small intimacies he had seen me share with several of the others, but big steps for him. 

He was resting one hand on my shin near the top of my boot, his beer in the other, taking a drink. I leaned back on the lounge, watching everyone interacting. I think Bruce had disappeared inside, probably to the lab. I wondered if I should go check on him later, he had that look about him during the party like maybe Hulk was getting itchy. Sam and Clint had gotten Nat in some drinking game while the rest cheered them on and Steve watched over them like the Big Brother figure he was. 

“When are they going to learn that Nat can drink them under the table and still go shoot a perfect cluster at the range?”

Bucky chuckled, “Probably never.”

I shivered, the sun had gone down and it was a little breezy out on the deck.

“Cold?” he asked.

“It’s getting a little chilly.”

“Wanna go inside?”

“Sure.”

We got up and he offered me his arm again. The group called us over and made me take a shot with everyone, and then we were able to slip away. I grabbed a plate with an assortment of meats and cheeses and fruit on the way in along with a bottle of wine. “Space cowboys or space wizards?” Bucky and I had a common love of sci-fi and I’d been steadily catching him up with a mix of hard and soft genres. We’d just watched The Martian, so it was time to go for soft sci-fi. The game was I narrowed it down to two and then gave him a two or three word synopsis to choose from without a title.

“Hmm… Space Cowboys sounds fun.”

“Firefly, it is!” I handed him the plate, waving him to the recessed TV area. “Rack ‘em up, Sarge.” And I went to the kitchen for the bottle opener. 

I probably should have reversed those assignments, because my leg started spasming on the way there and I was hobbling by the time I got back. Just as I started to step down it seized so hard that my boot slipped on the slick floor and I slipped down the step with a yelp, falling on my bad leg over the edge of the step with a curse.

“Cookie! You okay, sweetheart?” He was off the couch and by my side instantly.

“Fuck that hurt!” I leaned back against the floor. “Saved the wine, though.” I waved the bottle in victory with a pained grin.

He chucked, “A real hero. Can you get up?”

“Probably. If you gimme a minute.” 

He picked me up anyway. He deposited me on the couch in much the same way we had been sitting on the lounge outside, my back against the arm of the couch. “Can I take a look?” he asked, kneeling beside me.

I shook my head. “Nothing’s broke, and you won’t be able to see much given that’s where my scars are thickest. I’ll be fine.” I grabbed the plate and remote, setting them on my lap and starting the show. He sat down, pulling my legs into his lap.

“I think we are done with these tonight,” he said and he pulled off my boots and socks, setting them down and pushing them under the coffee table out of the way.

“Why my socks, too? Now my feet are gonna be cold, Buck.”

“Nah,” and he put his right hand over them. He and Steve both ran warmer than the average person, so their hands always felt hot. He started rubbing one of my feet with his right hand, his left resting over my shins. And I’ll be damned if he wasn’t good at it. He did the right first, circling the heel, kneading his thumb into the arch, rubbing the ball with the heel of his palm. He was watching the show, but pretty soon I wasn’t. I was busy melting into the couch. He moved to the left foot, and a minute later he hit a knot that released something higher up in my leg and I moaned. “Mmm… Buck...” 

His left hand tensed over my shin and my eyes snapped open as I gasped at the sudden, near-bruising force of his grip, my other leg popping up reflexively against the metal appendage trying to dislodge him. He was looking at me with something I couldn’t read, something lost between want and confusion and half a dozen other things that flitted across his face.

“Bucky?” I touched his arm. “What’s wrong?”

He moved to get up and I tried to leverage my legs down on his lap and grab his arm. “Bucky Barnes, don’t you freeze up and walk away from me like this.” I watched his face shut down and after seeing him so relaxed and genuinely happy such a short time ago, it broke my heart to watch him go stone faced again. “Bucky, did I do someth-” and then I felt it.

He moved again and I felt him against my foot, semi-hard in his jeans. He pushed my legs aside and got up. 

”Bucky, please talk to me.” 

“It’s fine, Cookie, you’re fine.” he said stiffly and he started walking away. 

“Bucky, I’m gonna be mad as hell if you make me chase you down before you talk to me.” He paused. “You know I will chase you down.”

He glanced at me, briefly. “Good night, see you tomorrow,” he said as he turned the corner.

“Goddamit, Barnes, you know that doesn’t count!” I shouted after him.

I growled in frustration and hit the stop button on the remote. I turned the TV off and debated going back out on the deck, or going after him. The party sounded far more raucous at this point than I was feeling. Or that I was drunk enough for. I picked up my plate and bottle and slowly made my way back to my room after making a detour to check the gym first.

Chapter Text

Bucky was waiting for me at my door as I limped up.

“You could have just brought me with you, jerk.” I handed him the bottle and opened the door. “Would have saved me a walk to the gym and back to look for you.”

“Sorry. I didn’t come here first. …wasn’t going to.”

Well, that’s a step in the right direction, I guess. I plopped on my sofa, setting the plate on the side table and cramming a piece of cheese in my mouth. And then, I looked at him expectantly, still standing in my doorway. When he didn’t move I made a grabby hand at him. “Talk to me or don’t, Barnes,” I said testily, “but get your ass in here and gimme my wine back.”

He shook his head with a huff and came in, letting the door shut behind him. I grabbed the bottle and took a long pull directly out of it as he sat down.

I set the bottle on the table next to the plate and turned to face him, curling my good leg under me. “What happened, Buck? Everything was cool and then it very wasn’t.”

“I know.”

“What was it? Did it make you uncomfortable that I got into it? …Or that you did?”

He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Both? I don't know… I just…”

“Hey…” I took his hand. “Hey, Bucky, it’s okay. Remember that day in the gym when I said that it’s understandable things would trigger you sometimes?” He nodded. “Well, sometimes those things are surprising in themselves. Things you wouldn’t expect to freak you out, but they do. That’s a thing, but there’s always a reason. Sometimes talking can help you sort it out.”

He looked at me, and his expression was pained. “I don’t remember the last time I… I haven’t felt something like that since before the train.” His hand went to his prosthetic, looking down at it as he often did when he talked about that day and what happened after. “It’s just been nothing. And then I felt something, and- ”

I tilted my head and waited for him to continue, my thumb just stroking idly over his knuckles.

“Bruce said it might be like that. My healing factor gradually repairing the damage in my brain and limbic system. Just the last few days everything’s been… More. ”

“It’s okay that things feel overwhelming right now. You don’t have to push yourself.”

He took a deep breath. “I know, it’s just… Tonight was good. It was really good. Dancing with you.” I nodded. “Sitting with you. I like having you close.” 

“I liked all that, too, Buck.” My thumb rubbed over his knuckles.

“And then when we came inside and chose something to watch it all felt so routine… so familiar. Like it’s our thing, and that’s nice, too.”

“It is our thing. I’m glad I get to share it with you.”

He looked up at me again. “Then you got hurt and I wanted to do something for you. And then you just really seemed to be enjoying it…”

“I was. Best foot rub I think I’ve ever had,” I said earnestly.

“And then you really enjoyed it.” He smirked at me, and I smirked back. “And the thought that I did something that made you feel so good, and then I,” he waved vaguely at his lap, and I nodded, “and that was a lot and… fuck, it almost felt like being a horny teenager again.” He groaned, “It’s so hard to explain this. I… I haven’t felt any of these things in so long. Just things that feel good instead of... I only hurt people for so long. I’ve been in pain for so long. Cookie, everything has just hurt for so long...”

My heart clenched in my chest for him and I gave his hand a squeeze. “That sounds overwhelming, Buck. It’s okay to take your time.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was coming on to you. I don’t even know if I can. I don’t even know if I’m ready to think about that kind of feeling.”

“And that is very, okay, too. We can feel things that are sensual, and enjoyable, and good , even intense, without it being sexual or romantic.” I smirked at him. “Hell, the first time you had a ‘Bad Day Cookie’ you made a sound I’ve only ever heard in the bedroom.” He chuckled and I continued. “You are allowed to just feel nice. Bodies get weird about stuff from time to time, and that’s okay, too. We are more than whatever our hormones and blood pressure are up to. We don’t have to read anything into that.” I grinned mischievously, “I promise I won’t get upset or weird about your random recovery boners, Bucky.” 

He blushed furiously, but barked out a laugh, and it was like a cloud lifting. 

“We’re friends,” I said, “and that will always be enough for me, Buck. If you reach a point that there are emotions we need to parse through, we can talk about that, but there will never be any expectations I have on you, your body, or your feelings. Okay?” 

“Okay.” His expression was a kaleidoscope of relief, wonder, affection, and a half dozen other things, mixing and mingling in a way I couldn’t read fully, but I was glad he seemed to be feeling better.

“Now, can we watch some Firefly?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

We watched a few episodes, and he seemed to relax the longer we sat, sharing the snacks and the wine, and enjoying the show together. By the time I turned off the TV, he was laying across the couch, his head in my lap with my fingers combing through his hair. He had fallen asleep, and I didn’t have the heart to make him move when he seemed so content. I just put a throw pillow behind my head and dozed off myself.

We woke the next morning still on the couch, but on our sides, me sandwiched between his back and the back of the couch, my left arm and leg thrown over him. 

____________________________________

Several days later, there was a mission. Something HYDRA related. They left Dr. Banner to his work, thinking Hulk might be overkill. I was a little surprised they took Bucky with programming still in his head, but Steve felt confident about it and hopeful they might find something useful.

I was taking lunch to the lab when I heard a crash. I rushed down the hall to find a cart had toppled, glass and chemicals all over the floor. Dr. Banner was standing over the mess with his back to the door. His fists were clenched, shoulders heaving as I watched him try to control his breathing. Well, damn, this could get complicated.

“Dr. Banner? Are you alright? I heard a crash.” I said, coming in the door.

“Stay out!”

“Is it vaporous? Here, let me turn on the fume hoods and it’ll be fine.” I reached over and hit the switch and I heard the fans overhead come to life.

“No! Just get away!”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get the broom, and we can have that cleaned up in no time.”

“Dammit! Just leave!” I could see the veins in his fists and forearms starting to bulge.

“Ah… I see where we are. Bad day, huh?” I said calmly. I kept going to get the broom. 

He was straining for words now, flushes of green blooming under the skin. “You need to get out of here. Please!”

“It’s gonna be alright either way, Dr. Banner. It’s not like Hulk and I haven’t met before.”

“He’s dangerous! I need to get to the safe room…” He was struggling with the words now, staggering toward the door.

I looked at him, eyes changing, as I leaned on the broom a little in his path. “I’ll be fine. Not like anything in this Tower could stop him if Hulk decided to pay me a visit anyway.”

That’s when Banner lost it. I’d never seen him actually shift before. It was impressive, to say the least, watching his body broaden and grow. I wondered if it was painful.

Then Hulk roared in my face and made my ears ring and my face scrunch in pain.

I worked my jaw trying to make my ears pop, wiggling my fingers in both ears. “Daaamn, dude, I am right here.” I looked up at the towering form hunched over me in the suddenly much smaller space of the lab. Then, I smiled at him like a friend had spontaneously shown up for coffee. “But, nice of you to pay me a visit, big guy,” Now the ringing in my head had quelled a little, I could hear the ‘Code Green’ alarm. “JARVIS, rescind that alarm please and let the team know we’re fine.” 

“Are you certain, ma’am?” 

I looked up at Hulk, meeting his shockingly emerald eyes and only seeing a sort of mild surprise and curiosity under the usual anger. “I’m quite sure, JARVIS, I don’t think we have a problem here.” I gave him a questioning smile. “Do we Hulk? You wouldn’t hurt me, right?”

His eyes narrowed, then he shook his head. “Hulk no hurt bean lady.” 

“Glad to hear it, big guy. We’re good, JARVIS, thank you.” The alarm stopped, silence fell, and I went back to sweeping up the mess. Only the quiet tinkle of glass sliding along the floor and the background hum of the fume vents filled the space for a couple of minutes.

He snorted, “Bean woman never act afraid of Hulk. Must be stupid.” I caught the change in language. He was trying to get a rise out of me.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I chuckled. “I’d say I have a healthy respect for strength and a good grip on what is and isn’t in my control. For example,” I glanced up at him, “I can’t control you at all.” He gave me a self-satisfied smirk. “But, I can fix this problem,” I said, looking down at the mess. “I guess we’re kind of alike in that. We’re here to fix problems, aren’t we, big guy.” I pulled the rest of the test tube glass into the dustpan. “Heheh, problems other people are too busy, or caught up, or weak, or scared to address themselves.”

He harrumphed, “Bean lady strange. Laughs at strange things. Bean lady like Hulk, hate Banner. Hulk hate Banner. Banner weak.”

I dumped the glass into the sharps disposal bin. “It’s not that. It’s not hate. I can’t even say it’s dislike. It’s just difficult for me being around him sometimes. But, that isn’t his fault. I’ve tried not to take it out on him, but I guess I do treat him differently than the other Avengers, don’t I? Even you.” I tried looking around for an indication of what Banner had been working on so I knew how to clean it up without bad chemistry happening. “I do like you though, Hulk. I like that you’re so honest. You always say what you think and do what you want, and sometimes I think it would feel good to be powerful enough to do that. And you’re still a good guy who helps people.” I grinned up at him. “Also, Smashing looks like a lot of fun.”

He grinned back at me. I gave up on finding the right mopping solution, and just went for the cat litter to soak it up for sweeping instead. I sprinkled the litter over the mystery liquid and traded the jug for the broom and dustpan again.

He bent down, looking at me closely, scrutinizingly. “What stupid Banner do to nice bean lady?”

I sighed. “He didn’t do anything to me, Hulk. I just sometimes feel sad when I’m around him. He reminds me of someone I love very much. I’ve spent a lot of time feeling sad that person died, and sometimes I just don’t feel like being reminded of those emotions.”

He watched me sweep the cat litter into the pan and dump it. “By the way, Hulk, I know why you call me bean lady, but I do have a name.”  I put the broom and dustpan away and walked back over to the green behemoth, one hand on my hip. “Could we move past the bean lady thing? Maybe?”

He bent down over me, scrutinizing me, seeming to be judging something. Then, I watched a positively wolfish grin spread across his broad features. “Valhalla,” he growled.

I looked at him quizzically for a moment, completely lost. Then, I realized what he was referencing and a grin spread across my own features with a giggle. “To call me, or go there?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, drawing in close, raising his hands near my sides, as though asking to grab me.

I burst out laughing, “Sure, why the fuck not? C’mere, big guy.” I spread out my arms and yipped as I felt myself scooped up in his giant, green hands. I wrapped my arms around his head as he buried his giant face against half my torso. He growled in pleasure as he nuzzled into me roughly, the sound nearly subsonic in its deepness, reverberating through my body in a way that made my eardrums itch and a little shudder course through me.

He chuckled darkly, “Valhalla likes Hulk.” He inhaled deeply and squeezed me a little in his huge hands and my toes curled as I molded myself against him, resting my knees against his massive chest.  

I kissed his head. “I do like you, Hulk. You are family too, and you can come see me any time you need this.” I giggled, “or beans.”

“Hulk likes Valhalla.” He sat on the floor and embraced me as much as the difference in our size would allow, relaxing his face against my chest and upper stomach. I felt wonder all over again at the gentleness in his hands as they cradled my body against him. I could only imagine how touch starved he must feel. I ran my fingers through his hair, petting him with my nails against his scalp until he was purring against me and I was purring too for the feel of his vibrating bass through my bones. He had the lightly musky smell of a lazy day spent outdoors, and freshly turned earth, and spruce boughs. Hulk was absolutely giving Thor a run for his money.

Chapter Text

It was a long time before I felt Hulk begin to shift and change against my body. It was disconcerting, to say the least, feeling him shrink in my arms until I was cradling Dr. Banner’s head against my breasts with him sprawled on the floor between my legs, arms wrapped tight around my waist, as he breathed deeply and gradually came back to himself. Even his smell changed, from spruce to more piney, more fresh and less musky with the faintest undertone of autoclave. He nuzzled against me groggily, fingers gripping me with a sleepy moan, and I softly said “Welcome back, Dr. Banner.” 

I felt his breath hitch and knew he had realized where he was now. He scrambled backward. “Oh, oh god… what happened… Did he hurt you?”

“Dr. Banner.” I reached out to him but he scrambled back until he hit the table behind him. “Bruce. I’m just fine. I need you to breathe with me. Please. Everything is fine. You’re gonna hyperventilate if you keep this up.” I groaned in frustration and sat up. I let him watch me take a deep breath. “Reel it in, my dude, you’re being ridiculous.” He stopped, seemed to listen to something, and warily settled.

“He really didn’t hurt you?”

“Of course not.” I retorted, my voice relaying the offense I felt at the assumption he would have. “You know, you really don’t know much about the big guy considering he’s part of you.” I got up with a groan. “Everything is fine now. I imagine Hulk is fairly content at the moment, and I cleaned up the mess. Sorry you lost whatever you were working on. I’ve got your lunch, too, or we can go down to the kitchen. I know you’re usually famished after a Hulk visit. Besides, I know you probably have questions.”

He looked slightly mystified.

“Come on down when you’re ready,” and I let the door to the lab shut behind me. I looked down at my phone and saw about fifty messages from the team. I had JARVIS send everyone a brief voice memo, so they could hear my voice and believe me when I gave them an, “All clear. No harm done, everyone, but thank you for checking in. Good luck on the rest of the mission. See you soon.”

About half an hour later, I was making bread dough, singing to myself, as Banner abashedly entered the commons. “Hey,” I smiled.

“Umm… hi, Cookie.”

“Pull up a seat.” He did, and I looked up at him in his fresh pair of khakis and light blue Oxford shirt, looking a little less rumpled than I normally saw him. “I’ll get you something started,” I met his brown eyes with a grin. “I just knead a couple more minutes.”

I got a chuckle out of him, without even the shadow of an eyeroll. Bruce was the best audience a pun could wish for. He watched as I finished and plopped the blob in a bowl, covering it with a towel. “Did you want something in particular, or should I surprise you?”

“I ate what you left for me. Thanks.”

I went over to the coffee maker and pulled a mug of hot water. I'd been working on an herbal blend for him that actually tasted good and not like potpourri or licorice. “Then, what can I answer for you, Dr. Banner?”

“I, uh… Wanted to thank you… and maybe talk?” 

“Ah.”  I pushed his now steeping mug of tea over and got myself a cup of coffee.

“Oh. I’m sorry. You asked me to …I thought maybe…”

I sighed, coming around to sit next to him. “No, you’re right. I did. And I meant it. I hoped you would come down and talk.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…” He started to get up. “Thank you for the tea.”

I put a hand on his arm. “No, I…” I groaned in frustration. “This isn’t about you, Dr. Ban-” I stopped myself and looked up at him. “Bruce. I’m not being fair to you and I need to deal with it.”

“It’s okay, just thanks for-”

“No. Bruce, please sit.” I gave his arm a little squeeze. “Please.”

He did. 

I took a long moment, collecting my thoughts, looking down at my mug. So did he, waiting patiently. “I assume you know what happened to my family.”

He nodded. “I heard. It was the Battle of New York.”

I nodded. “I don’t talk much about them. About him. My late husband. …You remind me of him sometimes.” I took a long sip of my coffee. “He was an academic, a scientist, too. We had just moved to New York for a post-doc a few months prior.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to them. And you.” 

“Some days it’s hard to talk to you, listen to you talk about your work. I love the monotropic passion you get into, the way you forget that…” I waved my hand vaguely, “life… is still happening when you get caught up.” Then, I smiled softly at him. “But, as soon as someone reaches in to check on you or draw you back to life, you want to share everything you’re excited about with them, because you want them to be just as excited as you.” I felt tears welling up. I quickly looked back down at my coffee cup, blinking them back. “I loved that about Paul, too.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, softly, in that voice people have when they want so badly to comfort someone, but they don’t know how.

I shook my head, taking a deep breath and putting those tears back in the vault. “Like I said, that has nothing to do with you. It’s my baggage, and you don’t deserve to be treated differently than I treat everyone else around here because of that.”

“You treat me differently?”

I looked at him. “Do I not?”

“We haven’t talked much,” he admitted, “but whenever we interact, you’ve been… kind. You try to include me, like the night of the party. To me, it feels like there’s always some personal touch of you nearby. It seems the same as for the others. The way you know how I take my one cup of coffee in the morning. How you know how long it’s been since I’ve eaten, or slept. When I wake up with a blanket over me and my glasses cleaned.” He looked down at his own cup. “You’ve even been mixing this tea for me.” He gave me a shy smile. “I never thought you didn’t like me, but I just assumed you were uncomfortable around me because of …The Other Guy.”

I chuckled. “Nah, Hulk doesn’t scare me. He and I have a rapport.”

“Seems like it.” Then, he looked at me. “Thanks for earlier. What did you do?”

“What do you mean, do ?”

“To calm The Other Guy down.”

“What do you mean? Hulk and I just talked.”

“Talked?” He looked a little incredulous. “You just talked to him.”

“Not to. With. We talked. Y’all don’t give him enough credit. He’s not a mindless beast.”

He paused a moment, seeming to listen to something. “He likes you.”

“Of course he does,” I said with just a little pride, “I’ve cooked for him. But I’ve also met him a few times.”

“Wait… a few?” He thought for a second. “I know about two.”

I chuckled. “That makes sense. Before today, I didn’t know you weren’t aware of what he did in the same way he seems aware of you.”

He blushed a little, and it was incredibly cute. “Yeah…” Then he looked at me. ”Sorry about that.”

I laughed. “For what? I’m sorry you woke in a …slightly compromised position.”

The blush grew and my heart fluttered a little, it was adorable. “I was just worried that he had-”

“He had what?” I snipped. “Attacked me? Accosted me?” I huffed. “You absolutely don’t give him enough credit. I have met Hulk four times before today. Two of them were under far more stress.” I looked Bruce right in his often worried, soft, brown eyes. “And he has never given me reason to think he would choose to hurt me.”

“But he-”

“No.” I snapped. “He deserves better than suspicion and fear, Bruce. Maybe you should do less fearing Hulk as your darkest urges, and more letting him help you understand your own needs.”

I knew I came in hot as soon as I said it. He looked like I punched him in the gut. His eyes shifted like he was ready to bolt. I reached out again and rested a hand on his arm. “Because today all the big guy really asked me for was a good cuddle, and I feel like human contact is something you probably want pretty bad.”

“A cuddle ?” He choked. “Hulk cuddled you?!”

My lips quirked. “That’s what we were doing when you woke up, wasn’t it?”

He ran his fingers through his curls nervously. “I guess we were. This is,” he seemed truly at a loss, picking up his tea again. “this is… Nobody has ever interacted with Hulk like this.”

“Maybe they should try. He’s pretty funny.” I deadpanned.

Bruce did a literal, tea out the nose, spit take.

I laughed and handed him a few napkins as he coughed and sputtered. “Well, now I have to know what you two talked about.”

I was wiping tears from my face, but tears of laughter this time. “Nope, our secret. Not even for science. He’d let you know if he wanted you to know.”

Two days later, the rest of the team returned to find Bruce and I out on the deck having breakfast together.  I’d convinced Bruce to take a couple of days off to destress. We’d gone on some walks, watched movies, talked about books and the toxicity of academia. We’d had all our meals together since then, being the only friendly company to be had in the penthouse. It was nice getting to know Bruce individually, it helped me separate him from all the ways he reminded me of Paul and I had started to like him quite a bit. He was sweet, with a healthy dose of ‘Dad’ humor, and a lovely conversation partner on a walk through the park, or quiet reading companion in the evening.

It was an absolute onslaught of questions as the team burst out of the quinjet toward us. 

Was I ok? Obviously, yes. 

Was it a false alarm? No, but it was under control, so I canceled it. There was no reason for them to stop the mission and come back.

What had happened? Hulk moment.

Why would I ever think it was okay to be around Hulk? He’d never shown himself to be a threat to me any other time we’d met. 

What possessed me to try and calm him myself? I wasn’t trying to calm him, I just was calm and non-threatening around him and let him decide.

Tony positively badgered me for days, trying to pry out of me what exactly I had done. I kept telling him it was none of his business, we just had a conversation, and if he wanted to know that bad he should ask Hulk his damn self.

He was following me as I followed Chuck into the commons. “If you can’t explain how you did it so we can reproduce it, maybe we should start having you tag along on missions as a Hulk pacifier.” The whole room froze, watching me. 

“That’s why I’m not explaining it to you, Tony,” I said quietly. Natasha and Bucky had spun in their stools to face me, immediately noticing the ice in my tone. “You wouldn’t get it, and if you did, you couldn’t do it. Now stop. Asking. Me.” I went to the fridge and pulled out a beer.

“Hey, I’m a pretty smart guy, Cookie. Bet I can sus it out if you give me a clue.”

“It isn’t an engineering problem, Tony. It’s not a fucking formula for you to reproduce. I am not an anomaly or a mystery for you to figure out, or a tool for you to use.” I cracked the beer. “That’s the only clue you get from me. You want anything else, you can fucking ask Hulk.”

I walked away and I felt him following me. I spun on him and pointed at him with my beer bottle. “Tony Stark, if you keep following me from here or ask me one more question, gods witness me I will not be held responsible for what happens to you.” 

He stopped, looking over at the former Russian assets. “Do you hear how she talks to me?”

Natasha waved her fork at him. “Don’t say that like you don’t deserve it.” 

I walked out on the deck for some air. Steve joined me a little later, sitting beside me on the lounge. “You know Tony just wants a way to keep everyone safe.”

I finished the beer and set it on the table nearby. “Tony wants a way to control Hulk, same as everyone else. Being Bruce’s friend doesn’t make him different from anyone else who sees someone like Hulk,” I looked at him, “or any of you, as a weapon to be pointed at problems. I’m sick up to here,” I waved my hand over my head, “of repeating that each and every one of you is a person and not a weapon to be used or a problem to be handled.”

I leaned my head against his shoulder. “You’re all people and you all deserve better than that, Steve. You, Bucky, Nat, even Hulk. And, I’m never going to stop saying it.” 

Steve kissed me on the head. “Thanks,” he said. We sat there in silence for a long time, my head resting against his shoulder.

Chapter Text

A few days later, I was woken by a knock on my door in the middle of the night. I stumbled to the door in my tank and flannel lounge pants, expecting a nightmare rattled Bucky. He seemed to be coming to find me more nights than not of late, since he had come back from that first mission. I’d never forget the first time, about three weeks after I’d started living in the Tower. I’d had a nightmare myself that night and gone out to the commons for some air, heard the most horrific scream of my life and found him curled on the floor in front of the couch, deep in a flashback. It took a long time to coax him back to himself and he had been so distraught that I’d brought him back to my own room so he wouldn’t be alone, and after that he had seemed to be comfortable coming to me during the night and we developed a kind of routine to help him feel grounded until he could fall back asleep.

It was Bruce at the door instead. He looked tight enough to snap, panting, fists clenched. “Bruce?” I questioned blearily as I let him in, “Bruce, what time is it?” I shut the door behind him.

“They’re driving me crazy!” His entire body was shaking.

“Wha… Bruce, what’s going on?” 

Suddenly, he was right there. Inches away, I could see the blotches of greenish tint, like old bruises bubbling up and fading, veins popping out, eyes screwed shut like he was in pain. “Bruce?” I was fully awake now, “Bruce, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Please… please help me. He wants out. He wants out, I can’t…”

I looked up briefly. “JARVIS, don’t throw a Code Green or disturb us unless I tell you.” I looked back at the man in front of me. “Bruce, look at me.” He finally did and I saw chocolate brown and emerald green swirling like storm clouds, fighting for dominance. He was angry, frustrated, sad, but over it all was this blanket of fear. I didn't know if it was the usual fear of not knowing what would happen if he lost control, but he hadn’t gone to the safe room, he’d come to me. Was he afraid I’d send him back there, that I’d reject him after he’d come to me for help? 

“Bruce, just tell me if this isn’t okay.” And I flung my arms around his neck, hugging him with every ounce of strength I had. He froze, like I’d sucker punched him, slightly stooped from suddenly taking my weight, holding his breath. “Bruce, I’ve got you. I’m here.”

He exhaled roughly and then suddenly pulled me up against him in a fierce embrace, arms fully around my waist, practically lifting me off my feet, burying his face in the bend of my neck. His breath felt hot against my chest and down the front of my tank, his chest heaving against me. His arms squeezed me so tight I was waiting for my back to pop, his hands and fingers digging and gripping my sides. 

I leaned into him, trying to hold him through his distress. One hand went into the back of his hair, combing with my nails, scratching his scalp lightly and pulling the curls gently with each stroke. I kept whispering reassurances into his ear. That I was with him, I wouldn’t let something bad happen, he was safe, they were safe. “I’m right here with you. C’mon, Bruce, breathe with me.”

He finally sank with a shuddering sob, never loosening his grip and all I could do was quickly shift my legs wide so I sank to the floor with him, and we landed with him on his knees. I was straddled on his lap, molded together against him, his breath gradually slowing. I just kept breathing, slow and even, hoping he would keep trying to match his breath and heart rate to mine. I knew he could feel my pulse, as tightly as our chests were pressed together, as snuggly as his face was fitted along my neck. I knew he could hear and feel my deep, slow breaths against his ear and down his neck. I kept petting him as he came back to himself until I finally heard him mutter against my neck. “I’m sorry.”

I tried to pull back a little, but his embrace was still relentless, the tension in his hands conveying how on the edge he still felt. “Bruce, please look at me.” 

He finally lifted his head. His eyes were that warm chocolate brown, but there was a ring of shining emerald around his dilated pupil that told me better than words that he was on the knife’s edge still. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

“You don’t need to be sorry.” I cupped one cheek in my hand and he leaned into it a little. “I’m so proud of you for asking for help. I’m so glad you felt safe coming to me. Both of you. Can you tell me what happened now?”

“Tony’s been pestering me for days. Saying he wants to talk to the Other Guy. And he wants to see you.”

“Tony? About last week?” He nodded. “Dammit… I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he’d go so far… I should have known better.” I felt my face contort into a snarl. “That fucking brat. I’m gonna kick his ass myself when I see him.”

Something passed over his face I couldn’t read, I saw another flash of green pass over his eyes, and he buried his face against me again, breathing deeply. “Bruce?”

His face moved down my chest, shoving my tank down with the movement of his chin. The rough of his stubble abraded against the delicate skin of my cleavage as he pressed his chin and nose into my sternum, and at the same time, one of his arms dropped to my hips and flexed, pressing me against him. I gasped at the sudden shift in energy and flood of sensation. A rumbling sound crawled up from deep inside him, somewhere between a growl and purr that was so deep and resonant it caressed my entire body at once. 

Somehow my body both shuddered and froze at nearly the same time. “Hulk?”

There was another deeply pleased rumble. “Valhalla…” He ground our hips together again and I could feel him getting hard.

I could feel the man in my arms growing and gaining bulk. “Hulk,” I started warily. “I need to finish talking to Banner, and then we can cuddle.” I was mostly hanging from his neck now. His hands cradled my ribcage and my butt, holding me against his now massive chest.

“No.” Fully shifted, he rumbled, needy and possessive.

I squirmed a little in his hands, and then stilled, pushing the sensations in my body to the background. Slamming the door on the idea that this situation could get out of hand and the precarity of my position. I couldn’t let him feel the wash of fear that threatened as his thumb caressed the outer curve of my breast. I thought I knew what he was asking, but I needed to know if he did. I had to break the moment, redirect his energy, get him talking, get back in control of the situation. If there was one thing I understood, it was how to kill a mood softly. “Hulk. What are you trying to do?” I asked flatly.

He stopped and looked down at me, growling again as he met my eyes. “Hulk want.”

I reached up and took his face between my hands. I kept my voice soft, but matter-of-fact. “What does Hulk want?” I pulled his face closer. I combed his hair back with my fingers. I stroked his brow and cupped his cheek. “Tell me what my friend Hulk wants,” I said, more gently.

He started to look confused. “Hulk want Valhalla. Hulk no like metal man.”

“Yeah, I know, big guy. Tony’s a jerk.” 

“Hulk not talk to metal man. Hulk talk to Valhalla. Hulk want Valhalla close.”

“Oh, big guy…” I stretched up and pressed my lips to his forehead, right between his knitted brows. “I’m sorry he’s been harassing you.”

“Valhalla say smash metal man.” He grinned. “Hulk love .”

I chuckled. “I thought so.” He might have gotten a little turned on by my aggression, but he was looking for connection and reassurance, and I could certainly do that. My question answered, I kissed his nose and rested my forehead against his, stroking his face as I felt him start to relax. He dropped his head to my chest, his voice rumbling through my body. “There’s my big guy…” I cooed. He sighed in return. “Can you put me down for a minute, Hulk?”

His grip tightened. It was uncomfortable, nearly painful. “No.”

I kissed the top of his head and rested my cheek on it while I continued to pet him. “Just for a minute, friend, so I can make us more comfortable. Is that okay? Would you like to lay down and rest? You can stay all night if you want.”

He looked up at me and there was something so hopeful behind his eyes. “Valhalla stay close? Hulk stay?” My heart went out to him as I thought how lonely he must feel. 

I affirmed I would, and he set me down. I hit my secret stash, putting a few frozen pucks of ‘Bad Day Cookie’ dough in my toaster oven. Then, under Hulk’s watchful eye, I moved around the apartment, gathering up every cushion, pillow, and blanket I could find, even towels. We built a little nest on the floor in front of the couch where he could get comfortable. I gave him three fresh, warm Bad Day Cookies, which he ate in a single bite each, though he did growl appreciatively, and then he settled on the floor, head resting back on the couch like a pillow. I tried curling up on the couch above his head, but he insisted I just lay on top of him. I pulled a quilt up with me. It was made by my great-grandmother for my parents on their wedding, big enough for a king size bed, in swirling patterns of blues and greens. My kids called it the Comfort Quilt. I spread it over us, even though his feet stuck out at the end, and I stretched out on top of the green giant, resting my cheek on the expanse of his green chest. 

I petted and scratched and played with the coarse hair over his sternum as I listened to the meaty thud of his massive heart. The way it caught as I pressed my ear to him, sped up as my hand splayed over his breastbone, and as it started to slow, I felt his fingers on my back, idly stroking against my spine. I felt him relax beneath me, purring in lazy pleasure, and I melted against his body. Eventually he fell asleep, snoring gently. Well, gently for him, but it was like the bass rumble of a freight train, reverberating against everything, eventually becoming white noise in my head. I dozed, not willing to fully fall asleep, not knowing if Hulk was a restless sleeper. Getting accidentally squished by a cuddly bedmate was not how I wanted to go.

Sometime during the night, I felt him shift against me, shrinking, and I shifted, tucking into his side, head still resting on his chest, and settled back to sleep.

I eventually woke up, a determination itching in the back of my brain to put an end to this nonsense. I moved to get up, but felt Bruce’s arm tighten around me. He turned toward me, slipping his other arm around me. “Thank you.” he said roughly.

I rubbed his back. ‘What’re friends for? Besides, it was my fault Tony was harassing you.”

“No, it wasn’t.” I felt him nuzzle into my hair. “No friend, nobody , has ever done something like that for me.”

I hugged him back. “I’m glad I could help, Bruce. I do need to get moving, though.”

“Oh, oh yeah, of course.” he sounded just a little disappointed, but eased his grip and I sat up. 

I reached my fingers out and combed back the curls slipping over his forehead. “You can hang out and nap as long as you like, Bruce. JARVIS won’t let anyone know you’re here or let anyone in but me.”

I headed to the bedroom and shut the door behind me. I leaned against the door, taking a deep breath. This was a thin line. It felt like both Bruce and Hulk were getting really quickly attached and I was eventually going to have to figure out what that meant. 

I emerged from the bedroom, dressed in gray cotton pants, a green tank, and black hoodie. I’d gotten a few hours sleep, but it wasn’t enough, and my entire body felt stiff and sore from sleeping on the floor. My hip and back were protesting as I left Bruce who had fallen back to sleep on the floor, curled up in the makeshift pillow nest. Now his form was fully hidden under the quilt, but I could hear him doing a human size version of Hulk’s snore.

I hit the kitchen first, starting the coffee pot, then taking muffins and quiche I’d set up the day before and sliding them in the oven to bake and setting the timer.

“JARVIS, where is Stark?”

“Mr. Stark is currently in the lab, Cookie.”

“Perfect. Do I currently have entry access?”

“Yes, ma’am. Should I notify Mr. Stark of your visit?”

“Absolutely not. He deserves to be as rudely interrupted by his shenanigans as I have been.”

“Should I be concerned?” I turned at the voice to see Steve in the doorway, probably coming back from his morning run.

“Depends. Do you care about the shiner that spoiled rich boy is about to be sporting?”

“Wouldn’t be his first,” he shrugged. “What happened?”

“I had to talk down an upset Hulk last night around 2am because of that ironclad idiot, and I am settling this ‘Hulk Pacifier’ bullshit right now.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “There was no Code Green last night,” he pointed out following me to the elevator.

“I told JARVIS not to just before Bruce left for the night.”

He followed me into the lift. “Wait, you did what? Cookie, what were you thinki-?”

I spun on him, raising a finger. “Don’t start with me, Rogers,” I snapped, “I’m not in the mood.”

“You can’t just pre-cancel a Code Green, Cookie. What if you’d been hurt?”

“Then JARVIS would have circumvented my instruction. And you wouldn’t have been there in time either way.”

“Indeed, ma’am. I was monitoring your condition closely for changes,” the AI interjected.

“See? Best assistant. Thank you for the backup, JARVIS.”

“Of course, Cookie,” they chirped.

“Don’t give me that disappointed dad look, Steve. You haven’t been around long enough.”

“I’m over a hundred.”

“Ice time doesn’t count, Steve, you’re barely 30. I’ve spent easily as long interacting with this world as you, probably years longer.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Because the subject isn’t worth my effort.” I turned to face him, hands on my hips. “Code Green has never fixed the situation, only escalated it,” The elevator opened and I walked out, down the hall toward the lab. “And apparently none of y’all have figured that out if I’m the only person who has ever talked down a Hulk.”

I walked straight into the lab without stopping.

“Hey, clean room, delicate work happening in here,” Stark said without looking up.

“You can afford to do it again.” I growled.

“Oh, hey, Cookie, did you bring me a cof-”

I hit him with my best right hook as he was turning around. It landed well enough that I felt bones shift in my hand and the scientist fell backward into his work table sputtering. I took him by the shirt. “NEVER try to talk Hulk out again.” I snarled in his face. 

“Wha- what happened?”

“I was woken in the wee hours this morning by a nearly Hulked Banner, and I’ve been given to understand it’s your fault.”

His eyes lit up. “Did you do it again?” 

I slapped him. Vicious, sharp, and as hard as I could. My moment of genuine terror from the night before resurfaced. The second of fear I felt, not knowing if I could redirect Hulk’s impulses. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted a permanent imprint of my hand on his face. I damn near wanted to kill him. “What kind of fucking menace are you, Stark?!” I spun on Steve. “This! This is what I’m talking about! You’re gonna try to lecture me about circumventing a Code Green and this freak-”  

“Hey,-” Tony started to protest.

I swiveled back on him. “-is running around creating them! Harassing his alleged friend to the point of a nervous breakdown in the wee hours of the morning!”

“You told me to talk to him.”

“Like a fucking person, Stark, but apparently expecting you to know how to treat people like people instead of flunkies or science experiments is beyond your goddamn narrow capacity as a spoiled fucking man brat! And, then, I have to deal with the fallout of an upset, pent up Hulk!” 

Tony looked at Steve, who just shrugged at him in a fully nonverbal “She isn’t wrong”. 

“My secret, Mr. Stark,” I pulled his attention back to me, my voice barely more than a menacing whisper, “is there is no secret. You just aren’t capable of it because all any of you, ” I cut Steve a brief but harsh look over my shoulder, “can see is a monster and your own fear, and not that Hulk is part of a good man who’s in pain.” I shoved him back against the table. “Drop the subject, Stark. Or next time, I let you have the conversation you want so bad.”

I stalked out into the hall to find Natasha standing there, a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Don’t you start with me, too, Nat.”

“Absolutely not,” she laughed. “I’ve got no notes.”

“Well, Bruce isn’t here, he’s sleeping it off where he can be alone.” I headed back toward the elevator. “I’ll tell him you were looking for him, though.” I added over my shoulder. She looked a little surprised as the elevator doors closed between us.

Chapter Text

Two weeks later was the anniversary of The Battle of New York. I got up extra early, put on a pair of jeans, soft brown boots, and a wrap style sweater in sapphire blue. I did my hair and applied some very waterproof mascara and lip gloss. I took a bottle of bourbon from Tony’s stash, because that was Paul’s preference, and a container of fresh chocolate chip cookies I made yesterday, because that was all their favorite. Not having graves to visit, I went to what had become our favorite spot in Central Park in my family’s short time together in the city. When I got to the fountain, I placed four cookies on the edge, two for Paul and one each for my children, and poured out a healthy measure of bourbon. My eyes stung and I took a pull from the bottle myself, big enough it made my eyes burn for a different reason, like my throat as the alcohol slid down, 4:30am and empty stomach be damned.

“I know you would have wanted me to keep going, find new people. I think you’d be proud of me, that I’m not totally alone, that I’m still trying.” My voice wavered, “But, Paul, baby, I still miss you so much… every fucking day.” I sniffed, trying to find the words as I took a drink again. “Angus, Chloe…” My voice broke and I took another long pull. I sat there on the edge of the fountain in the grayish early morning light for a long time. Songs occasionally crept up out of me, my face stained by silent tears. 

The lullaby I sang to my children when they were babies:

La-la-lou… la-la-lou

Oh, my little starsweeper, I’ll sweep the stardust for you

La-la-lou la-la-lou

Oh my soft, fluffy sweeper, here comees a big cloud for you

La-la-lou la-la-lou

And may love be your keeper

La-la-lou… La-la-lou… la-la… looouuuu…

Our song, bubbled up with memories and a sobbing laugh, my voice soft and quavering:

Oh, don’t you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me

I said, “You’re holdin’ back.”

She said, “Shut up and dance with me!”

This woman is my destiny

She said, “Oooooh! Shut up and dance with me!”...

As it often did when the squeezing in my heart grew too tight, an old hymn I remembered from my childhood. Though it came not out of my heart, but from my stomach, seethed up out of my pain like bile, spat up in spite at the god it was intended to revere:

When peace like a river attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billow roll,

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

The light eventually became golden and more joggers started passing me, probably wondering if I was drunk and if I had just been there all night, folded in on myself in silent tears, so I finally stirred. On the way back, I left the rest of the bourbon and cookies tucked back in a nook near a homeless man buried deep in his blankets and sleeping bags. Eventually, I stood looking up at the Tower again, willing myself to go back and push myself through the day. I don’t know why I didn’t take the day off, but I also don’t know what I would have done if I had, but hide in bed with my self-pity. 

Then, my reverie was interrupted by Captain America himself returning from his early morning run. I had hoped Steve would already be done by the time I returned. “Morning, Cookie!” His million watt smile tried to burn through the fog that had settled around my brain.

“Morning, Cap.” I said with a smile, but I don’t think it reached my eyes and I walked inside with him.

“What brings you out so early?” his voice had an edge of concern. I wondered if he’d forgotten what day it was.

I couldn’t look at him. “It’s a day for memorials, Steve. For a lot of people.”

He had the good grace to look abashed. “I’m sorry. It just seemed really early.”

I veered off from Steve, who was going to the penthouse elevator and I headed for the service stairs. “Shit to do, Cap. The world doesn’t stop because a lot of people died two years ago.”

I changed into my whites and headed down to the main kitchens, checking in with the crew, meeting with the lead chefs, double checking inventory numbers and POs.  I checked my email and invoices from my old office. I ran an inspection of the cafeteria and general operations. I even deep cleaned the fryer and the griddle myself. Busy work. Anything to keep my brain occupied. It was after lunch by the time I ran out of options and headed back up to the penthouse.

Which was just as well, most of the Avengers were due out to the new Avengers/emergency responders commemoration at Grand Central. That was fine by me. I asked JARVIS for some distracting music, and soon I was bobbing to ‘Possum Kingdom’ by Toadies and ‘Flagpole Sitta’ by Harvey Danger (Yeah, I’m old, okay.) as I did my daily prep work. That’s where Bucky found me.

“Busy day?”

I jumped, spinning out of the fridge, grabbing a beer bottle to brandish before seeing him. “Goddammit, Barnes!”

“Whoa, Cookie.” He gently took it out of my hand. “You’re wound tight today. You okay?”

“Yeah…  Not really…” I looked around helplessly. “You know what today is, where everyone is, right?”

“Yeah.” he said softly. “Yeah, I do. Just keeping busy today, then?”

I nodded. 

“Would you like some company?

“Maybe? Yeah, that sounds nice.” Bucky liked cooking, and often gave me a hand now when I was doing prep work. He generally knew how I liked things done, so he needed little instruction, and we moved around each other in comfortable quiet. He helped me package entrees for whoever found themselves back in want of dinner later, and get everything ready for breakfast the next day so all I needed was to throw things in the oven tomorrow. With the occasional break for him to sweep me up in a dance if something he knew came on, until my leg was protesting the exercise on top of my early morning walk.

Work done, I changed back out of my uniform and we ended up on the couch in the common room, under my giant quilt, watching the Great British Bake-off. I leaned back against his chest, his right arm along the back of the couch behind me. “Hey, Buck?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks.”

“Hey,” he wrapped his arms around me, “as many times as you’ve done this for me in the middle of the night, or talked me back from an episode,” he kissed the top of my head, “this isn’t even the least I can do.”

I shifted to lean my head against his arm and look up at him. “Still. You didn’t have to. Thank you.”

He pressed soft lips to my forehead and I had a quick intrusive thought of how they would feel against mine. I think he had the same thought because his eyes briefly drifted over my face to my mouth and quickly back. 

I smirked at him. “Is this how you distract all the widows, Sergeant Barnes?”

“No,” he said softly, “not all.” He looked at me for another long moment, and there was something in his eyes I couldn’t hold. Not today, of all days, so I looked back to the TV. Then he huffed with a little smile, kissed me quickly on the head again, and went back to the show, his fingers playing with my soft sweater sleeve. After a few minutes, he asked, “Would you like to talk about them?”

I snuggled into him again. “Not without a lot more whiskey. And tissues. And maybe mac & cheese from Lola’s.”

“Which we are fully prepared to provide, Cookie!” shouted Stark as he strode in, waving multiple bottles of whiskey in his grip. 

The others came behind him, carrying takeout bags. Nat came in with the tissues and threw the box at us. Bucky caught it in one hand. I felt him tense and nearly growl.

I pulled the quilt over my head and groaned against Bucky’s chest. He peeked under the blanket at me. “Hey. If this is too much, you don’t have to.”

I turned my face into his chest and took a deep breath, inhaling the warm smell of him. “No… They are all trying to be there for me, in their way.” Soon there was a spread of all my favorites from the best soul food joint in town. Mac and cheese, greens, fried chicken and catfish, okra, black eyes peas, sweet potato pie and cornbread with honey butter. My stomach growled, and I realized I hadn’t eaten anything today besides a cookie, a few swigs of bourbon, and whatever I tasted while Bucky and I were cooking. I emerged from the blanket to a slightly chagrined sound from Bucky.

Thor swept me up as soon as I came around the couch, handing me a beer. “My lady, I hope you do not think we would choose to leave you alone this day. You have given us so much, like a blessing from the goddess Hestia herself on us all.  We wish to commemorate your loved ones by your side.” 

He looked so serious, like I might still say no, and it brought a tear to my eye. “There is nobody I would rather share my lost family with than my found family.” I hugged him and looked around the room. “Thank you, everyone.”

Soon everyone was eating and mingling, and I was sharing pictures from my phone. Angus, my cuddlebug, who had my curls and loathed the very idea of cutting his hair, saying he “loved his curly hair because it was just like Mama’s”. Chloe, full of energy, with her dark hair and huge blue eyes, who looked so much like her father and went through life singing about nothing and everything. And my Paul, extravert to my introvert, by turns the most frustrating and funniest man I’d ever known, whose chaotic energy brought joy, balance and lightness into my workaholic life.

I told them about our first date. Paul had taken me salsa dancing, though neither of us knew how, and the table of older people next to us asked what wedding anniversary we were celebrating, refusing to believe it was our first date. I told them about the day he proposed to me on a blanket at the outdoor Shakespeare Festival, and our courthouse wedding. I talked about how I went into labor with Angus in the midst of a banquet dinner service, and with Chloe while helping a friend move. I told them about how happy Paul was to be offered this post-doc, and the chaos of looking for an apartment and moving our family to New York.

Eventually, Bucky and I were out on the deck near the firepit Tony had gotten installed. The others were around, drinking, still eating, or chatting. Bruce came over to sit on my other side.

“The Other Guy really wants to spend time with you today, too.” He huffed. “I still can’t believe you have me thinking of him as having coherent thoughts and feelings outside of rage.”

“I’m sure he does want out. I bet he feels left out seeing me get attention from so many other people.” I rested my hand on his. “I’d love to see him later, but I think we would have a difficult time continuing the party if he came now with everyone here.”

I felt, more than heard a growl beginning in Bruce’s chest, and his hand flexed. I felt Bucky tense on my other side and I patted the soldier’s thigh in an almost absent reassurance. I squeezed Bruce’s hand in mine and rested my head against his shoulder. “Hulk, I do want to see you,” I said quietly, “but it will be trouble if you come out now. I trust you, but they aren’t ready yet, friend.”

He snorted, and I felt Bruce’s body still under my hand and head. “Thank you, Hulk,” I whispered.

Bruce rested his head against mine, taking a calming breath. “God, you’re amazing.”

I chuckled, “Nah, I just try to listen.”

Bruce chuckled, “I hope you don’t believe that’s all it is.” He got up. “Text me later.”

“Sure thing, Bruce. I’ll see you later, Hulk.”

He nodded and went off to talk to Tony.

“Are you sure you’re not an operator?” Bucky asked when Bruce walked off. 

I smirked up at him. “You don’t need ice water in your veins if there’s nothing to be afraid of, Buck.” My eyes followed Bruce and then roved to take in everyone else. “Hulk isn’t our enemy. It’s everyone’s reactions to him. The reactions people have always had, even Bruce.” 

Bucky scoffed. “You’ve never seen the Hulk in action.”

“Sure I have. He saved my life. Twice. First time was the Battle of New York.”

He pulled me close and I cozied in under his arm against his side. “I guess you’re as much an expert as anyone, then. Not like I have any room to talk about a big scary thing living in my head anyway.”

I looked up at him and squeezed his leg reassuringly where my hand still rested. “Are they making any progress?”

“I can’t tell. They ask me questions sometimes, take blood, put me through an MRI… They say my limbic and nervous system is mostly healed at this point, that my body has probably hit close to whatever ‘normal’ is going to be for me.”

“That sounds like a good thing, but your face doesn’t match.”

He shook his head at my concern. “I guess I’m still getting used to… feeling things again.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “How’s that going?”

“Better,” he said, hugging me back, “new sensations don’t always put me in panic mode now.”

“But?” I echoed the word that seemed to hang silent off the end of his statement.

He looked thoughtful. “It’s hard to explain. I feel things, things I remember from before, but I can’t tell if it’s emotional, or just physical. It’s uncomfortable.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are we talking about pants feelings again, or other stuff?”

He gave a bark of laughter. “Pants feelings?”

“Yeah. You know, biological reactions that take place in the region generally covered by pants.” I lowered my voice into ‘super soldier hearing’ volume. “I thought it was a more polite turn of phrase than ‘random recovery boners’.”

He huffed out another laugh. “Yeah, I guessed that, it’s just weird. I guess that’s some of it, but it’s other things, too. Flashes of attraction, or intrusive thoughts, or ahem ‘pants feelings’ that I don’t know how to sort. Is it just a pure reaction to some stimulus, or am I having an emotion about it…”

“Or are you maybe having an emotion because you’re having a sensation for the first time that you remember being attached to emotions before?”

He looked down at me. “Oh, shit…” He ran a hand through his hair, looking into the fire. “I hadn’t even thought of that one yet,” he groaned.

“Hey, Buck,” I squeezed him again. “It’s okay. Just be patient and don’t be in a rush to parse it all out. It’ll sort itself with time and practice.” I grinned up at him, with another whisper. “Just like it did when you were a horny teenager.”

“Aaalright,” he pushed me away, trying not to grin as he got up, “I’m leaving.” 

The wind hit me again as he moved and I shivered. “Aww… Buckyyy…” I whined, still grinning. “Taking away that hot super soldier body just for a little teasing…” He looked down at me, one eyebrow raised. I hadn’t caught my own innuendo. “Just when it starts getting cold…” I pouted.

His gaze changed. He all but smoldered down at me for a long moment, until I started to feel the blush creep up my neck. “Bucky?” Then, he blinked, and with a flex of his hands he started to move away.

As he moved, I saw past his shoulder to a bigger issue. “Dammit…” I breathed, getting up and moving quickly across the deck

Chapter Text

Bruce was staring right at me from across the deck, like he could see me through Bucky’s body. Rather Hulk was, through Bruce’s eyes. I could see the tension in his posture in the firelight, pulling his shoulders in. Tony had just paused whatever he was saying, and the tension rippled out among the rest of the people present as an edge of worry crept into Stark’s voice. Clint and Nat were already on high alert.

“Hey, Bruce, you okay?” he was saying as Bruce started stalking toward me. I could see the green shifting under his skin now. Everyone was on alert, and I could feel the stress in the air. 

“Hey, Big Guy, Bruce.” I said gently, not sure who exactly would answer, but wanting both of their attention because I could see how hard they were fighting each other now. I could see the straining in the line of his jaw and down his neck.  I held up my hands, trying to warn everyone off without breaking eye contact. “What’s going on, friends?”

Bucky, Steve and Thor were all on an intercept course and Tony was a hot second from calling his suit. “STOP!” my voice lashed out, cracking like a whip across the silent stress of the moment. They all looked at me, a moment of hesitation. “Everyone, please, trust me.” I stopped, and waited for the man stalking toward me.

He was in front of me then. Just outside my touch. Still fighting, muscles bulging and shifting back and forth in waves of green, his eyes flashing back and forth between chocolate and emerald. “Hey, you two.” I said softly. I took a step closer and touched his forearm. He flinched, and I let my fingers travel down, taking his hand gently. “It looks like quite the fight you’re having in there.” I stroked his knuckles with my thumbs. “It looks like it hurts, friends.”

He grunted and then growled. I felt more than heard Bucky take a step closer from behind me, and Hulk’s eyes shot to him over my shoulder.

“Hey, Big Guy, I see you.” His eyes shifted back to me. “You’re feeling really left out, aren’t you? Everyone is getting to spend time with me today but you.”

He grunted again and stepped closer, his movements hitched as the two personalities warred inside him.

“Hulk, everyone is worried. They think you’ll hurt me if you come out. That’s why I’m being so careful and extra calm right now. I don’t want to surprise anyone. I don’t want anyone to fight today.”

“Hulk no hurt.” It was Hulk’s voice, his gravel and inflection coming out of Bruce’s throat and I could only think how much it must hurt. He said it like he was offended by the very idea.

“I know, Hulk. I know you would never want to hurt me.” I raised his hand and cupped my face in his palm, accepting the way it tensed and bulged against my face. “Should we prove them wrong, friend?” I gave him a sly smile. “Should we show them how gentle Hulk is with me?” 

He growled again, and returned my grin. 

I leaned up, sliding my arms around his neck, and I spoke in his ear, soft and low. “It’s okay, Bruce, I’ve got you both. You can let go now.”

He did, and it was like Hulk exploded out. I would have been thrown off of him if he hadn’t already had his massive hands there, cradling my head and hips. He grinned down at me. “Hulk got Valhalla.” I heard Thor’s distinctive guffaw, and someone else sniggered, I guessed Clint. I guess the joke was out.

I chuckled. “You do, Big Guy.” I reached my hands up for a hug and he obliged, pulling me close. “You must have really wanted to visit me today, Hulk.”

“Valhalla sad. Hulk help?” He sounded so hopeful it melted my heart.

I pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “Hulk did help me. All of my friends helped me feel less sad today.” I rested my forehead against his “Thank you.”

I looked around at the rest of the group. “Now, can we ALL just chill the fuck out?!” I looked back down at Hulk. “Let’s go sit by the fire, Big Guy.”

He nodded and he carried me back to the fire pit, shoving a chair to the side and sitting cross legged on the floor. He sat with his back to the wind and settled me in his lap, leaning back against his muscled torso. He seemed content to just sit and watch the fire with me, his fingers playing idly in my curls.

I felt like a queen holding court, as the others came by over the course of the evening. Thor brought me a bottle of wine, and Hulk a flask of Asgardian ale, to toast the departed. Steve and Bucky sat nearby, but were mostly involved in their own “campfire conversation”. Nat, Pepper and Tony came over and sat as well. Pepper had come late to the party and asked to see the photos I’d shown earlier, so Hulk got to see them, too. 

“Hulk remember boy and girl. Boy and girl cheer for Hulk,” he said after hunching down to scrutinize the photo for a moment. 

We had been digging people free that had been trapped in a coffee shop, helping them through a small opening and guiding them down the rubble toward the nearby subway entrance when a bus came flying at us. Hulk suddenly appeared and caught it, throwing it at one of the flying monsters I later heard called a leviathan. My kids yelled thank you and cheered for him. He turned and grinned at us and then I had the crazy idea to ask him to scoop the debris out of the way so we could get the people out faster. My kids cheered again and I remember him positively preening when my son praised him for how strong he was and my daughter said she was going to eat all the green things so she could grow up that big. It was the last time I saw my children smile.

I looked up at him, eyes tearing up. “So much happened that day. I never thought you would remember us. They thought you were so amazing.” 

He looked down at me. “Hulk remember. Boy and girl brave.” He thumbed a tear off my cheek. “Like Valhalla.” 

“I’m never going to get over that,” Clint chortled as he and Thor came back again, laden with bottles. Drinks were distributed again and soon everyone had been suckered into a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ after explaining the rules to Thor, Steve and Bucky. Hulk seemed content to sit quietly and play with my hair.

Clint started with he had never had he ever dated a coworker. Everyone drank but me.

Nat followed up with never having had desk sex. Tony, Pepper, Clint and Bucky drank. Steve looked at his friend, slightly scandalized. “Naples,” Bucky said simply, and Steve laughed.

Pepper followed up with never broken a bone. Everyone else drank. 

Bucky said he had never killed an alien. He and Pepper were the only ones who didn’t drink, and everyone looked at me. “What?” I said, lowering the wine bottle Thor had handed me with no glass. “It was a big day for me.” 

Steve said he had never kissed and told. I didn’t drink either.

Tony said he had never moved Mjolnir. Thor drank, obviously. And me.

Everyone was staring now. Including Thor.

I shrugged. “Sometimes it’s in my way when Thor gets drunk and leaves it in front of the bread bin. So… I ask if I can shift it a bit. Mjolnir’s very considerate like that.”

“No way,” Tony said. “You can’t just answer everything with ‘I talked to it, and it was nice’, and expect us to buy it.”

“I never tried to talk to the Chitauri,” I levelled on him with a grim smile. 

Hulk laughed and everyone jumped. “Hulk remember! Valhalla no talk to gray man. Valhalla smash good!”

I preened from my perch on his thick legs as he leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “See? I have a witness.” I grinned up at my green defender, smugly.

“Okay. But, this time you’re saying you talked to an inanimate object,” Tony insisted.

“I talk to JARVIS all the time.”

“JARVIS is different!”

“Look, if Mjolnir can decide something as handwavy and undefined as ‘worthiness’, it can be reasoned with.”

“Well, I know how to settle this.” Thor held out his hand and the hammer in question came flying out of the open deck door to his hand. Clint pulled over a side table and Thor set the massive battle hammer on top of it. “Whoever wishes may try.” And he sat back down.

Every eye shifted back to me. “I don’t feel a need to prove anything. Believe me, or don’t.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “How are you gonna miss a chance to rub something else in Tony’s face tonight?”

“I haven’t rubbed anything in his face.” I patted Hulk’s knee. “I just invited my good friend to a party.” Hulk chuckled, the sound rumbling in my ribcage. I probably sounded just a little smug.

“Oh, come on, Cookie!” Clint groaned. 

“You aren’t asking me to perform, you’re asking Mjolnir, and if it doesn’t want to, this won’t happen. I’ve never asked to wield it, I just ask it to move occasionally.” They just continued staring at me and finally I rolled my eyes and stood up. 

Hulk shifted uneasily as I got up. “I’ll be right back.” He nodded, and watched everyone else watching me as I came around the firepit to the table.

I looked down at Mjolnir. “Hey, friend. I don’t know if you’re into this whole party game thing.” I squatted down so I was looking at the side of the hammer directly. “But, these guys don’t believe that we have an understanding because of drunk Thor being a hot mess.”

“Wha-” Thor sputtered and everyone chuckled.

“If you wouldn’t mind, could I just scoot you a bit to shut them up? Like an inch or two even. If not, it’s cool, it can just stay between us.” I reached up onto the table, placed two fingers against one side of the giant hammer, and pushed.

Apparently, Mjolnir decided to be a bit of a shit about it, because rather than its usual smooth slide, it screeched across the glass like nails on a chalkboard, sliding to the edge of the table before it stopped. Then, I stood up again, faced everyone, and a solid breath later, the table suddenly tipped over and broke, Mjolnir leaving a dent in the concrete of the deck as Thor stared at me slack-jawed and then at looked at Mjolnir with something a bit like betrayal. 

I chuckled, “Thank you, Mjolnir,” as I walked back over toward Hulk. I pulled up a chair and started to sit beside him, but he stopped me with a grunt, pulling me gently but inexorably into his lap again. I shrugged. Not like I was going to fight him, he was quite warm, and a good wind break. 

A few other people gave it a go, unsuccessfully, including Bucky and even Pepper. I think Mjolnir was feeling feisty about being a party prop, but that was between it and Thor.

The conversation wandered at that point and everyone seemed to be finally relaxing with Hulk sitting calmly and keeping an eye on everything. But, I was getting tired. I looked up at the giant, still just idly and contentedly stroking my arms and shoulders or playing in my curls. “Hey, Big Guy.”

He looked down at me.

“I’m so happy you came to visit me.” 

He smiled. “Hulk happy with Valhalla. Hulk visit more?”

“I think you did a wonderful job being a chill friend tonight. I’m sure that now I can convince everyone to be more calm about you visiting again. For now though, can Bruce come back?” He frowned, and I took one of his hands in both of mine. “It’s not that I don’t want you here, friend. It’s just I’m getting tired, and you don’t fit inside well, and everyone isn’t going to relax and let me go to bed until Bruce is back. I’m sorry, but that’s just how it is for now.”

He looked frustrated, and so sad that my heart broke. I teared up a little at his sorrowful eyes and I think that was the proof he needed that I wasn’t just trying to get rid of him. He drew a thumb under each eye, oh so gently, delicately licked the caught tears from the pad of his thumb and then nodded. I lifted up my arms. “One more for the road, Hulk?”

He smiled, and scooped me up. Then, he got that signature troublemaker twinkle I’d come to recognize as very Hulk and he buried his face against my breasts with a growl as I laughed. I hugged his head as he shrank in my arms and soon I was kneeling astride Bruce’s lap with his head resting against my neck and shoulder smelling less of the earth and more of the lab. 

Bruce came to a little faster than usual, but he looked exhausted. “Everything okay?” he asked, tiredly, wrapping his arms around my waist with a heaving sigh.

I chuckled. “Yeah, Bruce. Everything’s fine.”

After a moment of letting him steady himself, I pulled away. Tony and Nat helped us up, and then they saw Bruce off to bed. Though I guessed Tony wanted to inundate him with questions and Nat was going to run interference so Hulk didn’t make a comeback tonight.

Once they left, I reached down, picking up my still half full wine bottle from the floor. I took a massive pull from the bottle, and then flopped in the seat I had pulled up earlier with a groan.

“You okay?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I sat up and took another pull. 

“You don’t look fine,” Clint said.

I looked at him, and deadpanned, “Y’all are exhausting.” I waved my bottle around at the group. “Hostage negotiation would be less stressful than circumventing a Code Green with you hair triggers around.”

“It hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park dealing with one before this,” he responded tartly.

“Hulk’s a lot, sure, and he has trouble verbalizing, but he’s not mindless.”

“I think we understand that a little better now,” Steve said.

“I still don’t get how the hell you aren’t terrified,” Clint added. 

“Look, I’m not saying he isn’t dangerous. He absolutely is. But, everyone in this penthouse is dangerous, compared to a normie like me.”

“I couldn’t crush you with an ill-timed sneeze,” the archer replied.

I huffed, “Fair.” Then, I shrugged, “He runs on impulse, so there’s little room for error in the interaction, for sure, and I’ve had a close call or two. But, he’s fairly predictable if you understand his motivations.”

“So, talk to us about the rules of engagement, Cookie.” I could hear the ‘mission mode’ coming out in Steve’s voice.

I looked at him sharply. “Nuh-uh,” I retorted, “I’m not talking to Captain America right now, Steve. I’m not on the clock.” I leaned back. “Get back to me when I’m not supposed to be drowning my sorrows.” I took another pull from the bottle and moved closer to the fire. The wind this high up was already getting chilly without my Big Green wall to lean on, it was only spring in NYC after all. 

Soon, I was feeling the chill enough to say my goodnights and head back inside and up to my suite. I ran a hot bath and finished off my bottle while I soaked before falling in bed, exhausted in both body and spirit.

Chapter Text

You seem tired today

Were you up all night afraid of what the future might bring?

I feel fine today

I had dreams of you in places I've not seen before

You get so carried away

Like lovers new to bodies first to touch you here

This ain't a getaway

You build walls around your heart to try to lock it in

I'm gonna leave it all out there to dry

I'm gonna leave it all out there

I'm gonna leave it all out there to dry up

I'm gonna leave it all out there

And upon the wind it's carried

Over the cities and the plains

You got time you're on the mend babe

And everybody wants the same

Everybody wants the same thing

I'm gonna leave it all out there to dry

I'm gonna leave it all out there

I'm gonna leave it all out there to dry up

I'm gonna leave it all out there

But you worry me

You worry me

You worry me

You worry me

“You Worry Me” 

by 

Nathaniel Rateliff and the Night Sweats

I woke to knocking at my door. I got up and was halfway to the door before I remembered I had gone to bed nude, which I used to do regularly back when I didn’t often get woken up in the middle of the night. Nat, Clint and I had a ‘girl’s night’ tonight and I had imbibed my fair share over pedis and movies. I backtracked to the bedroom when I realized with a “Just a minute…” to pull on an oversized tee and shorts before shuffling sleepily to the ever more insistent knocking door, near frantic by the time I opened it. “Whassup? Whuth’hell time is it?” I can hold my liquor, I wasn’t drunk, but a bottle of wine in an evening is still a bottle. I could tell I was still slightly buzzed on top of being woken from a dead sleep.

Bucky stood there in sweats and a black tank, disheveled from sleep, or lack thereof. He looked haunted, pale and shaking, eyes too bright, his scarred shoulder caked with dried blood. He’d been clawing at his prosthetic again, which he hadn’t done in awhile. I let him in and shut the door behind him. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind before I could turn away from the door, pressing his face to the curve of my neck.

“Nightmare?”

He nodded. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

I felt him shake his head.

He would usually give at least a reference point. The train, going into cryo, remembering something he’d done as the Winter Soldier. Or was done to him as the Winter Soldier. Usually, he would hurt his shoulder like this when he had nightmares about them taking the upper half of his arm that was left after the ‘train incident’ and installing the metal one, wiring it to his brain. It must have been a bad one if he didn’t even want to tell me that much. “Come on, Buck.” I gently unwrapped myself, holding his flesh hand and leading him to the couch. We’d done this enough times that he went with me out of habit, sitting on the couch. 

I went to the bedroom to get the ever-comforting quilt and spread it over him, humming ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ as I often did when I didn’t have words to keep him anchored or wanted to keep him focused on me when I wasn’t touching him. When I moved to go put the kettle on like always, he stopped me, taking my hand with a quickness that startled me. “Please,” he said, looking up at me with lost blue-gray eyes, “just stay here with me. I just…”

I curled up beside him. “What’s going on, Buck? This wasn’t one of your normal nightmares, was it?”

He shifted and leaned into me now. “It wasn’t a memory. It was…” He rubbed his face.

“It was what, Bucky?”

“We were…” He stopped and bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut before starting again. “There were Hydra agents… they said the words…” he started breathing hard, I could see him going, looking through me, remembering whatever he’d seen that had scared him so much.

I turned to face him a little more. “Bucky!” His eyes snapped back to me. “Bucky, you’re here with me,” I said more softly, “You’re safe.”

“Not me…” He brought his right hand up to my face. “I saw you die, watched it happen and I couldn’t stop…” He looked stricken. “They said the words and the Winter Soldier… I killed you and I… I couldn’t stop.”

I held that hand against my face with my own. “It wasn’t real, Buck, it was a nightmare.” 

“I watched you die. And I couldn’t do anything. Just watched my hands do it and I couldn’t stop…” His hand went from my face to his left shoulder, digging into the scars where the metal joined his flesh. “I couldn’t stop… I couldn’t stop…” He was spiraling, his breathing heavy, hands shaking. His nails had already drawn blood again. 

My hands were on his face now. I pushed his hair back. “Bucky, I’m here. Look at me!” I took his flesh and blood hand, prying it from his shoulder, pressing it to my sternum, not caring about the blood I was getting on my shirt. “Buck, please. Feel my heartbeat. Breathe with me.” I took a deep breath. “I’m here. I’m fine.” I raised up on my knee so I could rest my forehead against his. “Bucky, I need you to feel my heartbeat, listen to it, breathe with me, please.”

He finally looked at my eyes. I inhaled deeply and he followed me this time. I did it again, and so did he. I lead him through breath after breath until I felt him coming back. He said my name, quietly, thick with emotion.

“I’m here, Buck. I’m righ-”

His nose brushed mine, a gentle movement, up and then down the length of it. “It was you.” His voice was soft and pained. “My dreams never have people that I know now.” His metal thumb brushed my cheekbone, fingertips resting at the back of my jaw. “I saw you die in my hands, and it was the most terrified I’ve ever been. That I hurt you. Because of what they put in my head.”

“Bucky, I…”

His lips were so close. His breath smelled faintly of toothpaste. I was surrounded by the smell of gun oil, leather, and sweat. I could feel the need and anxiety coming off him like a physical wave and I wanted nothing so much in that moment than to give him the comfort he craved from me. I wanted to know if those lips were as soft as they looked. I wanted to let him hold me, touch me until he knew that I was safe and whole, and that I trusted him.

I swallowed and that barest movement was enough to brush our lips together, and he closed the distance. He kissed me so gently, only his lips moving against mine, his fingertips still holding my face delicately. He kissed me like I was a treasure, so carefully, as though he was sure I would break, or run. 

It did break me. Gods help me, I kissed him back. I pressed my lips to his, and they were just as lush as I imagined. I sighed into him. Our mouths moved together, until his lower lip caught against my teeth and I grazed it gently.

A groan escaped him like the sound of a levy cracking and then his flesh hand left my chest, his head tilting to deepen the kiss. He pulled me into his lap, my hands slipping around his neck and up into his hair. His hand slid up my thigh, skimming over my scars. I suddenly remembered I hadn’t taken time to find underwear as his hand slipped under the loose shorts, gripped my bare ass and I felt the half-hard bulge of him grind into my hip. It sent a shiver up my spine and I gasped in surprise, pulling back. He froze.

He held my eyes, his gaze carrying too many things to sort. Fear, surprise, excitement, hunger, sadness, wonder, panic… Then he shook his head. “We should stop,” he panted. “I need to stop.”

I nodded, breathing equally hard. “Okay.”

He swallowed, licking his lips, and nodded, too, and it was all I could do not to watch the movement. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Did I hurt you?” he asked quickly. He looked down at my leg, where his fingers were splayed over the ropes and knots of scar tissue. Pink and red fading to silver in coils and twists, like an angry roil of tentacles boiling up from my flesh.

“No, I was just surprised. Nobody has really seen or touched them outside of medical professionals, and that is usually uncomfortable at best.”

“I hadn’t realized how much there is. I’ve never seen them.”

“I was just in a hurry to answer the door and grabbed the first thing that came to hand. It’s not that I hide them, I just don’t like the looks I get when people can see them.” My hands were still on his shoulders, and my thumb grazed over the scars of his left shoulder. “I don’t mind if you see them, as long as it doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Okay.”

I extricated myself from his lap and stood up. “I’m gonna make that tea now, okay?” I leaned down, kissed his forehead, and moved away. 

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I turned the electric kettle on and pulled down two mugs and the teapot. Then I got down the chamomile and put some in the teapot infuser and pulled down the honey, putting some in each mug. Step by step, methodical repetition of something I’d done dozens of times for him as I willed my heart to slow. Pull it together, girl, we both know he’s not ready for that. Especially not with you. I pulled down a box of shortbreads from the cabinet, putting a few on a little plate. The kettle beeped. I filled the teapot and put the lid on. I was basically back together as I gathered everything in my hands, teapot in one hand while the other had the mugs looped on one finger and holding the plate of cookies, and went back to the couch, ready to deal with the aftermath of what had probably been a mistake. I set everything on the side table. Then I went and got a warm washcloth and came back to stand in front of him.

He was sitting up now, feet on the floor, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, Buck?” I tried to draw him up so I could see his shoulder. “You haven’t done anything wrong.” He didn’t budge, so I squatted down between his feet.

“I got carried away.”

“Hey,” I put a hand on his knee. “We both just got swept up in a moment.” 

He looked at me. “That’s all?” He looked hurt. 

“Bucky, you were hurting, and I wanted to comfort you.” I brought the washcloth up and started gingerly wiping away the blood from his skin. “The things we both felt in that moment, whatever that was, were valid. But, it was a moment. It doesn’t need to be more complex than that. Two adults were under stress and their bodies took comfort from each other for a minute, and there’s no shame in that. And then we stopped.”

“What were you feeling?” He was watching my face while I cleaned his shoulder.

I sighed, knowing I’d made another mistake. I felt like I was about to make yet another. “Do you remember that night when I told you it’s okay to experience sensual things in your body? That things can just feel good, and I would never have expectations on you or your feelings?”

He nodded. The wounds had all closed already, so I sat down next to him, taking his hand and cleaning his fingers and nails.

“That is still true. You are first and foremost my friend. Maybe my best friend.” I set the washcloth aside and squeezed his hand and he stiffened.

“If this is going to be a ‘just friends talk’, you can save it,” he said stiffly.

“If you’d let me finish, you’d find out, ya big jerk,” I kept my voice playful, despite my desire to cut off the potential for petulance quickly. 

He gave me an indignant look, but settled again.

“You’re also easy on the eyes, and a really good cuddler. I’d be lying if I said I never wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” I had to choose my next words carefully. 

He was watching me think warily. “But?”

I sighed again and it had an edge of frustration. “This is complicated… How do I put this?” I turned and poured the tea while I thought about how to frame my next words.

“Just tell me. If you don’t think about me that way…”

“Not just you, Buck, hardly anyone ever. I’m asexual,” I blurted.

The confusion on his face was nearly comical. “You’re going to have to explain this one to me.”

“I figured.” I handed him his mug. This is not where I expected my night to go. “So you know heterosexual and homosexual.” 

He nearly rolled his eyes. “Yeah…”

“And you know bi or pansexual? Being attracted to both men and women, or whoever?”

He nodded, maybe a little more nervously. “Yeah?”

“Well, asexual means I’m not attracted to anyone in that way. Or rather, it’s extremely rare, in my case.”

If anything, he looked more confused. “But, you were… you had kids?”

“People choose to have sex for any number of reasons. Comfort, companionship, intimacy, to give or receive pleasure for the sake of a partner, to have children, to satisfy libido or a kink or just for fun, and they can enjoy it for all those reasons. That’s why I talk about pants feelings, or arousal, separately from emotional connection or other kinds of sensual touch. Because those things don’t automatically conflate or exist on a direct route in my brain. I’ve never looked at somebody and had my brain jump to wanting to have sex with them. Hell, it’s rare for me to kiss someone and have my brain jump to sexy thoughts. Even with Paul.”

“So, why did you kiss me back?”

“Because I wanted to kiss you, Buck,” I answered bluntly. “You asked me for comfort, and I wanted to give that to you, help you feel better and more secure. Because I care about you. To show you that I trust you.” He was looking down at his hands now and I’m sure his thoughts were spiraling about pity or some such bullshit. “Also, making out is my favorite sport, it feels good, and it’s been a long damn time since I kissed anyone.” He huffed and I reached out and tucked his hair behind his ear so I could see his face in profile again and I leaned down into his periphery, smirking at him, “and I’ve been having intrusive thoughts for a while about whether your lips were as soft as they looked.”

He looked up at me, a little bit of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You, too?”

I chuckled. “Yeah. All that said, I am still the same cuddly, touchy-feely Cookie I’ve always been. Because I am a physically affectionate person. I love being close to and touching people I care about, and that is rarely sexual rather than sensual and comforting for me. It’s just about closeness and expressing affection and trust. Unless they want something more.”

“So when you are all cuddled up on Thor or Hulk, or me, or Steve, it’s all the same thing to you?”

“Not at all. You are all very different people. I have very different relationships with each of you, and different social rules dictate what’s appropriate. It feels different to me.”

“But, you do a lot of the same things.”

“I suppose, but take Thor and Steve for example. Thor is Asgardian and they have different cultural ideas about physicality between friends and the morality of sex. Mostly that there’s not much morality complicating it at all, as long as everything is consensual, and I can appreciate that. Steve, on the other hand, is a prude.” He chuckled and I continued. “Steve’s a moral paragon transplanted direct from the 1940s with all the repression and hangups that come with it. He would never do anything as forward as motorboat me or comment on my thighs, because he would consider it disrespectful, and I generally don’t ‘cuddle up’ with him for the same reason, because that would be a hot half-step in his brain from asking him to go steady.”

He laughed, “You’re probably not wrong.” Then, his face got serious again. “So where do we stand then?”

“Well, we got comfortable physically because we built that trust before all these other complications, right?”

He chuckled, “Before pants feelings came back.”

I smirked, “Exactly. Our relationship used to exist outside all of that before you got this far in your recovery. Which was coincidentally adjacent to where I exist all the time anyway, so it felt pretty natural for us. It's just been about comfort between us. And I’m still fine there, being friends and having TV couch cuddles, or sleeping snuggled together when the nightmares get bad. Just the stuff we’ve always done.” I took his hand again. “That said, if it’s complicated now, or if you get a partner in the future who is uncomfortable with that, I also have no problem with stepping back to respect boundaries that may change.”

“You wouldn’t care at all if I started dating someone? This really is just a friendship to you.” I couldn’t decipher the expression on his face, aside from troubled, and maybe a little hurt again.

“What it is to me is irrelevant to me, Buck. Friendship isn’t a ‘ just’ thing to me, it’s not a secondary prize, and you should know that about me by now. I’m not an exclusive, all or nothing kind of person. 

“Whether or not this could become romantic, I want you to get out there and build new relationships, meet people and explore the feelings you are getting back. Experience things.” I squeezed his hand tightly. “I want you to Live, Bucky. People need more than just one or two people in their life. We are social creatures, Buck, and it isn’t fair to expect one or two people to fulfill every need a person has. You said yourself, just this evening, that you were still trying to parse what was sensations and what was emotions and how all that fit. I don’t want to see you get hurt, or hurt someone else, because they are the first one you got attached or attracted to or felt things around in 70 some-odd years, and then realize later it was really codependence.”

“You mean you,” he said bitterly, taking his hand away.

“I mean anyone, James Barnes.” I retorted tersely. “If you’d actually go to therapy, they’d tell you the same thing. It’s a hell of a trap to fall into to think you’re in love with someone because they are the first person to reach out to you. I’ve been there, fallen into it myself, and it sucks. I have rules about how I interact with Bruce and Hulk for the same reasons.”

“So that’s where I exist? Rules for ‘guys with monsters inside them’?” He looked petulant and it pissed me off.

I felt the anger cross my face, then I took a breath and my expression shut down. Felt myself put up that familiar wall between my body and whatever visceral emotion was counterproductive to the current moment. “You aren’t a monster, Hulk isn’t either, and I’ve never made out with either of them on my couch in the middle of the night, so you can stop that right there.” 

I knew what he was getting at and I wasn’t having a conversation about a relationship of any kind between us when he couldn’t even voice his own feelings for me openly yet. If he even understood them. And, I wasn’t going to let him push me away because he got scared. “I explicitly told you where I stand. I’m not going to lead you into deciding how to feel about me.” My voice went hard. “And I’m not letting you pick this fight with me just so you don’t have to sort through your own head, James.” He looked like I slapped him. “If you want to make a separation here and mark some new boundaries, then do it, but don’t expect to anger me into doing it for you.” I liked what we’d always had, so he could step back under his own power, or stay, or tell me he wanted to move a different direction, but I wasn’t doing it for him.

I got up and took my cold tea and the teapot into the kitchen. “You can stay here and get some sleep, or head out if you need space to think, but I’m going back to bed for the couple hours I can still get.” 

I stopped in front of him on the way by and he looked up at me, his expression raw but too conflicted for me to sort. I reached out to comb my fingers through his hair but he took my hand instead, giving it a squeeze and rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. I squeezed it back, feeling that all too familiar change happen between us that I’d experienced so many times. 

My friendship was now a consolation prize because someone’s dick twitched. 

I braced myself against that wall in my head and refused to let the hurt color my voice.  Refused to bleed for someone again because I wouldn’t be whatever they thought they wanted from me in the moment. If he even knew what he wanted from me in that moment, and I doubted it.

“Goodnight, Bucky,” I said softly.

“G’night.”

When I got up again after a couple of hours just laying awake or reading, he was gone, quilt folded neatly at the end of the couch, mugs and teapot washed and in the drainer, washcloth rinsed and hanging over the side of the sink. It felt like a goodbye, and I pushed down the tears. I love you too, Bucky. You’ll be okay. 

Chapter Text

'Cause I just couldn't open up, I'm always shiftin'

Go find yourself a man who's strong and tall and Christian

Pushing past the limit, trippin' on hallucinogenics

My cigarette burnt my finger 'cause I forgot I lit it

'Cause I carried on like the wayward son

And now through and through, I've come undone

And now I am just but the wayward man

What with my bloodshot eyes and my shaky hand

'Cause I carried on like the wayward son

And now through and through, I've come undone

And now I am just but the wayward man

What with my bloodshot eyes and my shaky hand

Pushing past the limit, trippin' on hallucinogenics

My cigarette burnt my finger 'cause I forgot I lit it

“Hallucinogenics”

By

Matt Maeson

Bucky withdrew after that, not unfriendly, or angry, and he still came to help me with prep sometimes, when he wasn’t training or on a mission. But the touching stopped. No more hugs or head kisses. No putting his arm across the back of the couch, inviting me to curl against his side, or pulling my legs into his lap when we watched a movie, which we only ever did as a group activity now.

The first time I laid my hand over his to get his attention for something, and he just squeezed my fingers briefly before moving his hand away, the grief twisted in my gut and my throat. It wasn’t harsh or cruel, but the boundary was laid. I nodded, and I knew he could see the sadness in my face for a moment before I smiled and acted like I hadn’t been summarily rejected by my best friend. It was like the kitchen had gotten bigger, he would rarely even touch my back or my arm when he moved behind me in the kitchen now. We still talked, we still cooked together, I still loaned him books, we still played the short description sci-fi game and watched movies, there was just an impenetrable wall between us when we did it. If we both had a bad night, we stretched out at opposite ends of the couch in the commons to watch British Bake-off, the comfort quilt spread between us down the length of the couch. He never came to my suite and I never saw him in a sleeveless shirt, could never see if he had been digging at his shoulder. But, he told me he had started seeing a therapist, and it was helping.

Bruce had also started therapy. He would come out for meals more often than he used to, and sometimes we would go out for a walk, though I still often took meals down to the lab and coaxed him into a break with conversation. A couple of times he needed to let Hulk out and we sat out on the observation deck while they cooled down from whatever frustration that work or Tony was giving them. Natasha tended to join us if she was around. In a show of progress, they at least weren’t waiting until they reached a point of crisis and Bruce seemed far less tired when he came back. I was developing a theory that Bruce’s post-shift exhaustion had a direct correlation to how hard he and Hulk were fighting each other. 

I took up crochet again because I needed something for my hands to do in the evening if Nat wasn’t there to have her hair played with (because she was in the Lab, flirting with Bruce was my theory). 

Thor was across the Atlantic with Jane or in Asgard. 

Steve was often busy, as much a workaholic as me, but he invited me to lean into the warmth of his side on our weekly group movie nights, since Bucky had gone no contact. I don’t know how much he talked to Bucky about what had happened, but he seemed a little perturbed with his friend and intent on not letting me feel abandoned. But Steve was always just a little stiff with others around, keeping his arm on the back of the couch like he wanted to be supportive, but he was concerned someone would get the wrong idea or something. It was infuriating, and I felt almost more starved by the half measure, but said nothing for fear of scaring him off, too.

Clint took me out for target practices and Nat started teaching me self-defense, when they weren’t out on missions. Nat was impressed that I already had a bit of groundwork laid from martial arts being a hobby back in college. She still didn’t hesitate to beat the snot out of me, being a dedicated teacher, but she also tried to help me figure out how to accommodate for my disability in my movements. And she harassed me about physiotherapy for my leg.

I was months ahead on work projects for the SI board. I’d nearly finished an entire afghan, plus a sweater in the last month. My carpal tunnel was acting up. And my skin was starting to feel itchy.

“So what the hell happened,” Natasha finally asked.

It would do no good to play dumb about what she wanted to know. “Nothing to tell, Bucky went no contact. I’m respecting it.” I said in a very obvious way. 

“Yeah, everybody has caught that,” said Clint, “but why? It doesn’t seem like you’re fighting.” The ‘murder twins’, as Tony called them collectively, were enjoying their traditional post-mission carb load and per usual, Nat was sharing her bubbles with me. I was turning them into French 75s.

As attentive as she was to keeping my glass full it was pretty obvious she was trying to milk me for information. “He made the decision, ask him.” I retorted shortly.

“You know good and well Soldat is not going to confide in anyone like that, besides maybe Cap.” Nat said.

I shrugged. “His loss and yours. All I have are suspicions, because he didn’t talk to me about it either.”

“I’m open to hearing those, too.” Clint said helpfully. “I have to say I was shocked when he asked you to help him set up a dating app.”

“I’m not interested in speculating about his motivations. I’m not his therapist, and I’m glad he has one now. He’s still my friend, and that’s enough. I’m glad he’s out meeting people.”

“Yeah, but what about you?”

“Why, Clint? You offering to take over as main cuddle buddy?”

“You gonna let me?” he asked with a smirk.

“Maybe, if Thor doesn’t visit soon.” 

He laughed. “But, seriously. Are you okay?” He did look genuinely concerned. Clint was a little shit, but he had the warmest heart.

“I’m fine. Sure I miss it, but it’s not like we were a thing.”

They both gave me a very pointed look. “Not according to him,” Clint said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Don’t start that with me, Clint. I told you both, I don’t want to know what he says when he lapses into Russian. If he wanted me to know, he’d tell me in a way I can understand.”

“Fine, but we are going shopping.”

“Making me your dress up doll for an afternoon is not going to make his motivations clearer, Nat.”

“But spending Tony’s money always makes you feel better,” she waved a black card at me.

“ Reappropriating Tony’s money makes me happy, spending it on frivolity does not.”

“Frivolity nothing. You need clothes besides jeans and hoodies.”

“I do have other things. I have office clothes now. And a swimsuit.”

“Which is somehow the most functionally unattractive thing I’ve ever seen you wear. FUN clothes, Cookie. Clothes to make you feel pretty.”

I rolled my eyes. “Nat, we’ve talked about this. The hell am I trying to look pretty for?”

“For YOU. You never do anything just for you , and it’s a problem.”

“I wouldn’t be doing this for me either, Nat, I’d be doing it for you. Besides, they don’t sell my size at the places you shop.”

“She’s got a point, Nat. Retail therapy is a you thing.” Clint commented.

“Shush, Barton. She just thinks it’s for me.” She looked at me over the rim of her glass. “We’re going. Thirty minutes. Get okay with it, Cookie.”

I spent the rest of the afternoon getting dragged to high end store after above high end store. The kind of place you see in movies where you sit on a couch and drink and they just bring you pretty things to look at. By the fifth shop, I could see the appeal because otherwise my leg would have been screaming at me. I tried on dress after dress, outfit after outfit, and Nat just decided on things, including a sundress I had seen in a window, a halter with a sweetheart neckline in a print of daisies and cherries as well as a daring pair of peep toe stilettos in a brilliant red. Because everybody deserved one pair of red shoes, according to Natasha.

She got me to wear the dress a week later when some of the team decided to go out and drag me along. I refused the heels in favor of simple flats since we would probably be barhopping. We started off at an Irish pub, my pick, they had live music playing and I had fun teaching Steve and Bucky callbacks for some of the songs like “Finnigan’s Wake” and “Big Strong Man”. Then they sang ‘The Drunk Scotsman’ and I cackled watching Steve look like he was going to have a heart attack, red as the cherries on my dress. Nat kept me plied with stouts, and I did my best not to notice how often I looked up to see Bucky looking at me, his face at war with itself.

After that, it was Sam’s pick and we were in a nightclub, VIP room. He and Nat were both on the dance floor in a hurry, bumping and grinding in the crowd. I was sitting in the VIP room with two super soldiers on a spectrum of discomfort and Clint. 

I finished my glass of champagne. “I’m going to dance.” I’d had enough alcohol and was touch starved enough that I dove straight into the press of people. Bodies writhing in the strobing half light and the chest thumping percussion. I weaved and gyrated my way through, Nat found me and we danced together, hips grinding, baiting men to sweep her away. I was more than happy to play wingman. Clint found me and we had fun, doing every off-the-wall, doesn’t make sense dance, from the water sprinkler to the shopping cart to the bump. I danced alone just as happily, beat driving my hips as I moved through the press, partners coming and going, flowing like water.

Then, someone else found me, and as soon as his arm came around me, too firm in its leather sleeve and glove, I knew who it was. I choked on my own breath as my head rolled back against Bucky’s chest. His hand splayed over my lower stomach and something clenched low in my body as he pulled me against his hips, rolling in a silky smooth grind that made my breath catch and my touch-hungry body melt. I shivered as I felt the barest brush of his lips against my ear about to say something. A desperation clawed its way through my insides, begging me to forget for just this one moment that he had cut himself off, and I had nothing to do with it, begging me to sink into this moment and whatever came after.

Godfuckingdammit, no. I pulled myself abruptly together with a gasp and a growl. I knew that clawing feeling in my gut and I slammed the door on it. No, fuck this, you don’t get to do this to me. I broke off the dance, gave him a look I could only hope conveyed my anger and how betrayed I felt before I spun and and headed back to the VIP room. 

I plopped down beside Steve, swilling down another glass of champagne. “You okay?” he asked.

“No. No I’m not, Steve.” I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“Can I help?”

“Unfortunately, no.” I called a cab on my phone. Then I sent a text.

Me: You drew the line, Barnes. You don’t get to jerk me around with it.

“I ordered a cab. Can you walk me out, Steve?” I didn’t need Bucky following me with whatever drama was running rampant in his brain.

“Sure thing, Cookie. Would you like me to come with you?” He still looked incredibly uncomfortable in the space, and it felt more like he was asking permission to join me than if I really needed him.

“If you want. I’m going to the seediest dive bar I know of. Might pick a fight. Been a minute since I blacked some asshole’s eye.”

“How about back to the pub and you can tell me what just happened over a beer.”

I sighed. “Fine.”

I texted Nat: Leaving with Steve. Have fun!

We ran into Bucky at the door of the VIP space. I met his eyes, a hard set to my face. He looked about to say something but I ducked past him. “Goodnight, Bucky,” I said stiffly. 

Steve eventually asked me in the cab what had happened on the dance floor. He was a good guy, and looked suitably indignant when I told him his friend had decided to take some liberties after how distant he knew Bucky had been over the last few weeks.

“I know why he did it, Steve.” I said a little later, sitting at the bar, close enough our shoulders touched, stouts in hand and a shot of Jameson in front of us both. “He wants me to either write him off, to prove to himself he doesn’t deserve happiness or good things, or he wants me to absolve him without doing the work.” I took a drink. “He wants me to let him just sweep it under the rug. He still wants me to make the decision instead of figuring out how he really feels. Which is too damn bad for him. He put up that wall without so much as a word to me about it, and I’ll be damned if he gets to tear it down without a conversation, too. Especially not like that.”

“I’m sorry, Cookie. Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No, Steve,” I leaned my head on his shoulder, “bless you for asking, but I don’t need you to try and fix it. Bucky needs to figure his own shit out. I’ll be fine.” I picked up my shot, and he matched me. “Thanks for listening.” I head-bumped his shoulder again and we took the shots together. Then, I spun around in my stool to watch the band which was coming back from a break. 

We watched the set together, I sang along loudly and Steve laughed when they did a cover of “Space Race” by Gaelic Storm and I was smiling again when Steve pulled me out for a dance at another point. We took a cab back to the Tower and Steve said goodnight with a kiss on my head. Then, he retreated so quickly after that it nearly gave me whiplash. We arrived long before anyone else got home, if they came home at all that night. I didn’t see anyone until afternoon the following day.

After that, I saw even less of Bucky. He started to schedule dates on movie nights, and started sleeping in. He ate less, but spent more time in the gym. Hours at a time, sometimes most of the day. His muscles went lean and hard under his clothes, like a bodybuilder cutting for competition, and he worried me. I saw him sometimes on the way back to his room, drenched in sweat, knuckles bruised and torn, muscles a little shaky. I knew how hard he had to work to reach that state. He refused to meet my eyes in those moments, but I’d leave him peanut butter sandwiches after, knowing that was something he could usually manage to eat and hold down when his nerves were shot. It felt like taking care of a barn cat, knowing he was alive because he ate the food I left out for him. At least I hoped he did. 

He’d gotten closer with Sam, they went on double dates sometimes when Bucky was feeling reluctant to get out, and SHIELD put them on missions together since Sam had enough experience to be able to handle an episode if needed, though he said Bucky hadn’t had one while out on a mission and seemed to be holding it together.

Bucky still spoke to me, but it was like I had lost him . I don’t think he was avoiding me so much as not going out of his way to spend time with me. I think that hurt more. 

Except at night. At night, he avoided me. I still knew when he had nightmares, the dark circles under his eyes were always prominent the next day, the ghosts roving behind his eyes. I would leave Bad Day Cookies by his door those days, and sometimes a new book or I’d text him a link to a song or video I thought he’d enjoy. He never replied to the messages because he hated texting, but he always accepted the cookies and sometimes when he’d return the book it would have a note that he liked it. And as far as I knew, he kept the red sweater I’d made, and though I’d never seen him wear it, Sam said it seemed to help him sometimes.

Chapter Text

Dear daughter

Hold your head up high

There's a world outside that's passing by

Dear daughter

Never lose yourself

Remember that you're like nobody else

Life throws you into the unknown

And you feel like you're out there all alone

These are words that every girl should have a chance to hear

There will be love, there will be pain

There will be hope, there will be fear

And through it all, year after year

Stand or fall I will be right here for you

Dear daughter

Don't worry about those stupid girls

If they try to bring you down

It's cause they're scared and insecure

Dear daughter

Don't change for any man

Even if he promises the stars

And takes you by the hand

“Dear Daughter” by Haelstorm

“Bold of you to think I could walk in these, Nat.” I said of the red stilettos she’d bought on our shopping trip that I’d finally agreed to wear.

She sounded unimpressed on the other side of the bathroom door. “I bet you can do more than that in them. I’ve seen you in the kitchen when you think nobody will hear the music you’re playing. You can swing those hips just fine.” I opened the door. “See? Sashaying like a pro. Just like riding a bike, Cookie.”

I rolled my eyes as I came out in the most risque thing she’d found on our shopping trip, and then bought without my knowledge. “What the actual fuck, Nat?” It was a blue so dark it was basically black, form fitting, with a daring neckline and web of spaghetti straps capping my shoulders and the upper portion of the open back. It also had an equally daring side slit that flashed half my scarred thigh when I walked. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look amazing. Absolute thirst trap.” She praised.

“For who? The niche audience of chubby chasers that fetishize burn trauma and being stepped on?”

She raised an eyebrow at me in irritation. “Enough. You’re wearing it, you look amazing, and you will turn every head at the party.” She was wearing a black evening gown, laced up at the back with an even more daring slit than mine, but nobody needed to talk her up. Ms. International Superspy always looked like a tall drink of water. I opened my mouth to snark back but she pointedly handed me a lipstick as red as my shoes and retouched my eyeliner. “And when that someone asks to be stepped on, you’ll be ready.”

“Nat…”

“ Nyet .” She snapped. She stepped up close, her voice a sultry purr. “You are going down there and showing every person in that hall exactly why they should be groveling for any morsel you toss them and be fucking grateful if you give them a glance.” She handed me my clutch, “Let’s go,” and ushered me out the door to the elevator. I spent the ride down steadying my breath, finding my inner smooth operator and knowing it was going to take a double shot of bourbon and then scotch for the rest of the night.

We stepped off the penthouse elevator onto the event level and Nat walked arm in arm with me like the proud friend she was as I dug deep and powered my way into the strut required by heels that high. Center of gravity low, chest out, stomach in, leading through a roll in the hips. It’s funny how making your body do a thing can sometimes almost convince you it isn’t a total act. By the time we reached the doorway I almost believed I was as hot as I was walking. I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way. Nat immediately got grabbed by people. She introduced me to a few, but I was soon making a beeline for the bar. I caught a glimpse on the way there of Bucky, Steve and Sam talking. Both Bucky and Sam had a date on their arms.

“Cookie, Look At You !” I had just been handed the double bourbon and turned to look at Tony. He was in full schmooze-mode.

“Tony,” I acknowledged warmly. I threw back the bourbon and set the glass back on the counter while the alcohol burned its way down to my stomach. Then I ordered the scotch I promised myself.

“O kay then, it’s that kind of night.” He matched me and we clinked our glasses.

“It is if anyone expects me to stay here in this getup Nat forced me into.”

“And you look incredible,” Pepper added as Tony handed her a martini, filthy with extra olives.

“I was just getting there.” Tony rejoined, “Glad I gave Nat the card. Excellent choice, well done, you’re welcome.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Thank Nat. I sure as hell wouldn’t have picked this.”

“You wouldn’t have been here at all.” Pepper quipped.

“Not true.” I pointed at a curtained corner. “I would have been right there, flagging that cocktail waiter to clear that table over there, the barback to bring up another case each of Cabernet and Willet, and signaling the kitchen to fire the next round of passed hors d'oeuvres and in particular another batch of blinis now that Natasha is here.” I started casting my eyes around the room. “Where the hell is the lead wai-”

Tony threw an arm around my shoulders. “Stop working, Cookie! Jesus… C’mon, I’ll introduce you around.” With that, I was swept into the wake of the force of nature that is Tony Stark’s energy and had met 15 people I wouldn’t remember 10 minutes later before I could catch my breath. 

Clint eventually rescued me by asking for a dance and spun me out onto the floor out of the press of people where Tony was holding court. Clint was looking handsome, but a little out of place in his charcoal gray suit and amethyst colored shirt. He had the look of a man who was happiest knowing he didn’t have to wear a suit on the regular.

“Cookie-girl, you look great,” he said warmly. “Can’t believe I got the first dance.”

I smirked. “You, too, Clint. You’re one more in the line than I expected.”

“I don’t know about that. Bruce over there looks like he’s in line, and Cap doesn’t have a date, bet he wouldn’t leave a girl hangin when she’s all dolled up.”

I glanced over my shoulder as we turned and spotted Bruce at a table in the corner. I shot him a smile. “He looks as uncomfortable as I feel.”

The song ended and Clint led me off the floor, giving me the usual kiss on the temple before heading off, likely to find some form of general mischief. Thor was nearby and I strolled over. The Asgardian was looking absolutely scrumptious in charcoal gray slacks and waistcoat with a deep burgundy shirt.

He exclaimed my name in his usual boisterous manner and I was pulled into an embrace before he introduced me to Jane Foster.

“It’s so good to finally meet you, Jane! Thor talks about you all the time. I hope your trip went smoothly.”

She smiled and soon we were talking like we’d known each other far longer. Maybe in a way we had as much as the Asgardian had apparently spoken about us to each other quite a bit.

“May I cut in, ma’am?”

I turned to see Steve offering me his hand. “Of course, Captain. I’m your huckleberry.” I drawled, took his hand and smiled at Thor and Jane, excusing myself. 

He grinned. “That’s a daisy. You look beautiful this evening, Cookie,” he said, leading me onto the dance floor. Since Bucky had started skipping movie nights, we branched out from scifi and fantasy and found out Steve liked Westerns. So I had to show him Tombstone, and I think it had become his new favorite. And it had just too many fun quotes.

“Thank you, Steve. You look very dapper yourself.” Steve looked good in anything, but the navy suit was cut and pressed perfectly and the blue only made his cornflower eyes more electric. I had a sudden desire to see his perpetual perfection and propriety thoroughly mussed. A thumbprint on his cufflink. His tie a little crooked. His hair tousled because my fingers were buried in it... 

“Thanks.” He gave me a spin and brought me back into his chest. His hand was meticulously avoiding the expanse of bare skin that was my back, resting a little low and forward than is customary so he could keep clothes between his skin and mine, or my scars, I didn’t know. It was frustrating that I didn’t know if it was propriety or discomfort. I suddenly wanted to see him uncomfortable.

“Sam set Bucky up tonight,” he said.

“Good for them.” I said genuinely, coming back from my intrusive thoughts. “How’s it going?”

“Probably not as good for her as she thinks.” He looked down at me meaningfully. 

“Don’t try to blame that on me, Steve. Bucky’s been getting around just fine according to Sam.”

“I’m not blaming you for anything, Cookie. He’s been going on dates pretty steadily for the last couple months. And therapy.”

“I know. I’m glad he’s getting help. And, getting out there, meeting people. This one’s cute.”

“You knew?”

“Of course. He does still talk to me. Nat and I helped him with his dating profile. Hell, he used to ask me to vet girls’ profiles before he messaged them.”

“I see… I guess I’m just still surprised you’re okay with it.”

“I want him to keep healing, and to eventually figure out he can be happy. I’m going to be cool with whatever way he decides to get there.”

Steve looked thoughtful, and not like he fully believed me. He’d drank beer with me while I was mad about Bucky’s indecisiveness, after all. Honestly, I had moments I also wasn’t sure if I believed it, so much as I had decided it. Especially when my nightmares came on and I didn’t feel like I could call anyone anymore. I guess that was why I chose my words. I might not be thrilled with the way our relationship had changed, but I'd be cool with it, happy for him, and get used to it. I was used to it before Cap brought him home, after all.

“You know, that goes for you, too, Steve. You should get out and meet some people. You’re worse than me for being married to work.”

“Oh, looks like someone else wants a dance,” he said, looking over my shoulder. 

“Nice try, but you can't avoid it forever, Steve.” 

He spun me once more as the song ended, and then dipped me with a grin. “I can try,” he said, stepping away. 

I didn’t let go of his hand. “I’m serious, Steve. Find someone you want to touch instead of restrained gestures made out of chivalry or pity.” I don’t know why I said it, I guess I was frustrated with the liminal feel of our interactions in the face of Bucky’s withdrawl. Hurt people, hurt people.

I turned away from his stunned face to see Bruce waiting patiently. I smiled at him. 

“You look amazing tonight. May I?”

“Absolutely. Thank you, Dr. Banner, so do you.” I took his hand, smiling. He was wearing a suit in dove gray, that made the salt and pepper in his curls look even more distinguished. His dress shirt in lavender brought out the warmest hue of brown in his eyes, and a black tie, all cut to perfection in a way that screamed Tony, but he looked dashingly put together. “I was starting to think you’d never ask.” 

The song had shifted and he pulled me into a gentle, shuffling slow dance. “Not much of a dancer,” he smiled bashfully, “had to wait for a shuffle.”

I chuckled, “I’m glad you didn’t miss your chance, then.” 

He smiled, “Me too.” Then he pulled his hand holding mine to his chest near his shoulder. He slid his other against my waist, fingers warm against the exposed skin of my back. I tried not to melt at just the contact registering against my touch-hungry skin.

“How’s the research going?”

“Really well at the moment. I think we are near a breakthrough in-” his eyes went a little out of focus for a minute. Then he leaned down in a very private way. “The Big Guy is going to have a fit if I don’t hurry up and tell you ‘Valhalla pretty girl’ for him.”

I grinned. “Thank you, Hulk.”

“Thank you .” he said fervently. “It’s still complicated, but with the therapy we’re adjusting and slowly learning how to cohabitate. I feel like for the first time maybe I, we, can have a little bit of a life.”

“Bruce, that’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you both.” I beamed at him.

He pressed my fingertips to his lips. Bruce was average in height, unlike most of the other Avengers, and the height of my heels brought us within inches of each other. I was short, and the experience of being near eye level had a uniquely intimate feeling as he looked over my fingers into my eyes. The sudden shift in energy was heavy, pulling the air from my lungs. He must have seen something on my face because my name slipped from his lips as a request.

I swallowed, “I think I’m ready for another scotch.”

“I’m sorry,” he hedged, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He backed away, but I kept a hold on his hand. He looked at it and then back to my eyes.

“You’re okay, Bruce, you just surprised me a little.” I gave his hand a little squeeze. “It seems like we should talk.” I led him off the floor to the bar and got myself another scotch. He got a soda and we made our way out onto the balcony. 

I was happy to see a couple of benches and gratefully plopped down on one, stretching out my left leg, flexing my foot until the heel of the shoe popped off and it hung from my toes. I looked up to see Bruce looking down at me. I couldn’t quite tell if he was watching me knead my hamstring or looking at my cleavage, but it was with something I could only describe as hunger. “Eyes up here, buddy.” 

He looked up with enough propriety to look just a little embarrassed, and I patted the bench beside me. He sat and I took his hand again. “You’ve never seemed interested in me in this way before. It took me off guard. What’s with the change in energy, Bruce?”

He thought for a long minute. “I’ve stayed away from people for so long. It wasn’t safe. I don’t know if it ever will be, really. It’s been ten years of not letting anyone close. Constantly afraid that I’d hurt someone.” His thumb rubbed over my knuckles like a touch stone. “Even this feels like a luxury,” he added, looking at our hands.

“That sounds really lonely, Bruce. I know Hulk feels that, too.”

He nodded. “With The Other Guy and I starting to come to an understanding… it feels like, maybe, we could have a little of that kind of normal. With someone.” He met my eyes with something so hopeful it squeezed my heart.

“What are you asking me for, Bruce?”

He thought for a long moment. “I don’t know if… if I’ll, we ’ll, ever be in a place for a real relationship, between being an Avenger and… everything else. Or, if so, how… physically involved would ever be safe with someone like me.” He groaned and ran his hands through his hair in the way I’d come to understand as Bruce deep in thought or worry. “I don’t know what I’m asking, I just know you feel… Safe? We both trust you. The Big Guy likes you so much it feels like a gravitational pull in my gut when you’re around. I feel comfortable around you, relaxed, in a way I haven’t felt in forever.”

I listened to his frustration, trying to find the words and thought for a moment. “It sounds like, and you can absolutely correct me, you maybe want to get closer to me physically, but you don’t know if you just have a desire for connection or if it’s to do with me in particular?”

He met my eyes with such a wash of relief that I knew I was right. 

“And you’re asking permission to explore that with me? To test your limitations with someone both of you like and trust.”

He nodded. “Yes, I think that’s exactly it.”

“I’m not opposed to that in principle.” I said, almost clinically. “I do think we need to have some ground rules. For us, and for Hulk, too.”

“Agreed. Obviously, consent is essential.” He looked relieved, excited, surprised, all knotted together.

We went back and forth awhile, sometimes with Bruce having a silent sidebar. Sometimes coming back with assent or a counter from Hulk.

“My final rule is no possessiveness. We are not exclusive. We are friends with potential benefits. Even if this evolves at some point into a romantic thing, I’m not going to change the relationships I have with others. I’m not going to stop hugging Thor or dancing with Bucky and Steve or letting Clint kiss my head, or taking naps with Nat because someone caught feels. I don’t have time for that nonsense.” I looked him straight in his eye. “Not between the two of you either.”

He got quiet again. They seemed to be having a debate. “Hulk wants equal alone time, and anything you do with me has to be okay for him, too. I tried to explain there are some things he may not be able to do without hurting you.”

“I think if he agrees to stop and not pressure me if I tell him no, or that I feel unsafe, I can agree to figure out compromises.”

A few moments later Bruce nodded. “He seems okay with that.”

I smiled. “Good. Now,” I held up my empty glass. “I’m ready for a refill, and I’d like to dance a little more before my leg gives out for the night.”

He grinned back at me and it was the lightest expression I’d ever seen from him. It was so boyishly adorable my heart gave a little thump. He offered me his arm and I gladly took it. Soon we were standing at the bar next to Sam and Bucky with their dates.

Sam gave me a side hug and we exchanged compliments. I offered Bucky a fistbump and a friendly, “Nice suit, Bucky. Looks good on you.” And it did. It had been tailored to fit his now leaner frame. The suit was black, with a gray shirt that made his stormy blue eyes pierce straight through my soul.

He gave me a pained expression but didn’t leave me hanging. “You look great, Cookie.”

“Thanks. So, are you two going to introduce us or what?” Mary and Jean worked for S.H.I.E.L.D and they’d all been on a couple of missions together. My drink came and I nodded to them all. “Cheers! See you on the floor, kids.” It was getting late, and the music had gotten less ballroom and more dance hall. I ended up out there with Nat, Clint, Pepper and Tony where we were soon joined by Sam, Bucky and their dates. 

Pretty soon, Sam and Mary were basically making out on the floor. Nat shot me a look after Jean started grinding with Bucky and I shrugged, taking another sip from my drink as I shook my hips to the music. She followed me a couple of songs later when I headed to the restroom. It was one of those setups with a parlor kind of powder room you pass through before the actual bathroom.

“Are you okay?” she asked as I washed my hands.

“Why would I not be?” I dried my hands. She was still looking at me expectantly. “What?” I asked gruffly as I walked back out into the adjacent vanity room.  “So, Bucky has a date, and apparently he could hit it for the asking. Good for him. You’re looking at me like she’s the first one. What I’m annoyed by is you continuing to ask if I’m okay.” 

She just stared at me. I stared back for a long minute. Then I flopped on the sofa with a groan. “I’m so tired of this… Fine, Nat, we’ll have this talk. Bucky and I weren’t a thing. Ever. We are friends. He will eventually figure his shit out and stop punishing himself.”

“Friends don’t go from snuggling on the couch and head kisses to awkward fist bumps. With a weird interlude for dirty dancing?”

“Well, apparently we did!” I snapped. “And that’s all choices he made. I said I was fine with how we were and I thought he should get out there and experience life. Next thing I know, he’s put me in a bubble and, as usual, I have to just deal and not let other people’s weird be weird. And now, here you go again making me into your personal Barbie doll. For what? To try to make him jealous? For what?! I don’t care if he dry humps every person on that floor, Nat! My feelings for him were never about his dick , so what do I care if someone else wants to catch it?!”

She stood over me, arms crossed. “I can’t decide if that’s the most ace thing I’ve ever heard you say, or the most poly.”

“Well if the shoe fits !” I kicked off said shoe in her general direction. She caught it casually and handed it back to me. I snatched it with a sigh. “We were fine. And then my dumb ass forgot that you can’t fucking kiss somebody just because kissing feels nice. That’s what happened, I made the cardinal sin of not masking, okay?! In a moment of comforting a friend in crisis, my acespec ass simply forgot everything has to mean something.” I was leaning forward, talking as much with my hands as my voice, shoe still in my hand. 

“Because everything has to lead to sex, or you’re leading someone on. And sex has to mean romance and jealousy and soulmates and forever and all that,” my voice dropped to a seethe as I tugged the shoe back on, “‘ Normal’ bullshit. I forgot that I can’t just have people accept I am a genuine and loving person who likes to show that to people I care for, physically, without strings or expectations!” I got up, straightening my skirt with a frustrated tug. “Thanks, Nat. Great talk. I feel so much better than I did before I came in here and had to air the dirty laundry you wouldn’t leave alone.” I heard my name as I stalked out and I ignored her.

Bruce was standing across from the door and I walked past him, back out across the dance floor and out of the ballroom. Once I was in front of the elevators, I took off my shoes, dangling them on my fingertips. Bruce came up beside me and pressed the call button. I heard my name again and turned to see Bucky coming down the hall. I jammed the call button again. Repeatedly.

“Your date’s gonna miss you, Bucky,” I said coolly as the doors opened.

“I heard,” he said in a way that let me know what he’d heard. “Cookie-”

“Not now, Bucky.” I stepped in and spun to face him before he could follow. “Go back to your date and have a good time. She deserves that respect.” I tried to keep my voice firm, but not cruel, but I think I just came off testy. “Goodnight.” The doors closed between us and I backed up until my butt hit the rail, leaning my head back against the wall with my eyes closed, trying to gather myself back together.

Chapter Text

Well, I ain't frontin' my intention, got your man outlined in chalk

It's a midnight intervention, got no plans to make it stop

Last time I saw you, said you wanna keep it light

But I'm here to tell you I'm not trying to change your mind

It's alright, ooh-ooh-ooh

It's alright, ooh-ooh-ooh

Yeah, come over here and sit next to me

We can see where things go naturally

Just say the word and I'll part the sea

Just come over here and sit next to me, ooh-ooh-ooh

And I'll take you high

High

High

High, ooh-ooh-ooh

It's alright

It's alright

Yeah, it's alright

Yeah, it's alright

“Sit Next to Me” by Foster the People

Bruce, bless him, didn’t say anything, just pushed the button to the Avengers common floor. I could feel him watching me and I didn’t care. I assumed he heard what happened, I was certainly loud enough, and was trying to parse it. I heard the door open and walked out, straight to the wet bar. I dropped the shoes and my handbag and grabbed a bottle of champagne from the fridge, because I deserved bubbles, dammit. I headed to the observation deck, grabbing my now finished afghan from the couch on the way. I went through the door with the crocheted blanket around my shoulders, opening the bottle as I stalked across the deck, shooting the cork and cage into the dark. 

“Would you like a glass?” Bruce finally said. 

I sighed. “I suppose I don’t have to be a complete heathen.” I turned to him. He was holding two. I gave him a questioning look. I’d never seen Bruce drink, what with the whole ‘maintaining control’ thing.

He gave me a little smile. “I can handle one, if you don’t mind the company.”

I filled them both and took one, and then we stood there in silence again. He was just there, like in the elevator, and seemed thoughtful. I was in my own thoughts. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, just two friends in their own headspaces while in proximity.

Eventually, we were back on the lounge by the unlit firepit and I was on my second glass when I finally spoke. “I assume you heard me yelling at Nat.”

“Hard not to. Sorry.”

“Sorry you had to hear me lose my shit.”

“As a pro at losing their shit, that was pretty mild, and Nat probably deserved it.”

I laughed.

“But, sorry for eavesdropping anyway.”

I shrugged. “It’s a hazard working with a bunch of superhumans and spies. I just expect all the dirty laundry to eventually be out there.”

After a moment he set his half empty glass down. “I’m kind of glad I did though.” He moved to sit beside me rather than the opposite end. “I was concerned about our agreement, that it was going to be difficult to maintain. I wasn’t sure what you were getting out of it.” I gave him some side eye and he met my gaze openly. “But it sounds like we want the same thing.”

I turned my head and looked at him. “Oh?”

He nodded. “Touching someone just because it feels good. No expectations or strings? Nothing more complicated than comfort with someone I like and trust sounds… pretty perfect.”

I gave him a rueful smile. “I always thought so.”

“That said.” He turned more toward me, reached out and traced the curve of my cheek with one finger. “I’d really like to kiss you,” he said softly.

“Just because kissing feels nice?”

He leaned in, until his face was bare inches from mine and nodded. “Because I think kissing you would feel really nice. And I think maybe both of us need it.”

I closed the distance, pressing my lips to his, minding my lipstick as I gently moved my lips over his. He sighed against me. I pulled an inch away again and watched his eyes open. I raised my hand to cup his jaw and thumb away the hint of lipstick I’d left on his lower lip. 

He caught my hand and parted his lips to kiss away the smudge on the pad of my thumb. “That was nice.” I watched a ring of emerald slowly surface around his pupil and his voice dropped an octave. “But it would be even nicer to smear that color all over your gorgeous mouth.”

I closed the distance again, rougher this time, my teeth grazing his bottom lip and he growled against my mouth. From the corner of my eye, I saw him raise his hand toward my exposed knee, then stop and plant his fist against his thigh. I pulled back just enough to speak. “What are you wanting to do?” 

He looked at me again, his eyes were stable, brown with that tight ring of emerald around the pupil, but I wasn’t entirely clear who I was speaking with. Maybe both of them. “I want to lay you down on this lounge and run my hands up that leg while I eat all the lipstick off your face.” 

I grinned. “That sounds amaz-,” was all I got out before he was crashing his mouth against mine. 

All subtlety was gone as he rose onto one knee so he could lean me back, settling half on me with one arm supporting my head while he tried to eat me from the mouth down. I reciprocated, kissing him with abandon, one arm under his, playing in the curls at the base of his skull. The other cupped his face, my thumb caressing his cheekbone. He pulled my scarred knee up, hooking it over his hip, his hand kneading up my thigh roughly, and I whimpered against his mouth.

He pulled away panting. “Did that hurt?” His eyes had more green, but he was checking in, so he wasn’t far gone.

“No one touches my scars like that.” I panted. “Most people would avoid it.” I watched more brown come back to his gaze as he was forced to parse my words. “It was a little overwhelming.”

He looked down at his hand where he gripped my thigh. His hand moved over the ridges and runs of my scars and I shivered. “It’s just part of you. And the texture is interesting.” He met my eyes again as he touched me. “Good overwhelming or bad?”

“Is it okay to say I haven’t decided?”

“Let me know when you do?”

I nodded and he kissed me again, gentler this time, exploring each other's mouths while his hand explored my leg. My fingers caressed his face, drifting down his neck to the collar of his shirt. “May I loosen this?”

“Please,” he rumbled.

He lifted enough to pull my arm from under him so I could loosen his tie and unbutton his collar. I heard the elevator ding and sat up. He groaned softly. I picked up the hem of my dress and used the inside edge to wipe my mouth and then I stood and turned to wipe his. ”Is there anything left?” He asked quietly with a little smirk.

“No,” I answered conspiratorially, wiping a bit off the corner of his mouth with a smile, “You absolutely met your goal.” I kissed his flushed, well-kissed mouth once more, softly and fondly. I wiped the lipstick from my glass with the same corner of my skirt. Then, I bent down and lit the firepit. I felt a brush of fingertips against my bare leg and threw him some dark side eye. 

“The Other Guy is very ready for his turn.” His eyes were stable, but I could see the shadow of Hulk’s mischievous grin beginning to play at Bruce’s lips.

I stood over him, nudging his knees apart to stand between them, a breath away from him as he looked up at me. I ran a hand through his hair, gently tilting his head back. “We can’t do these things if everyone is around.” I bent down and purred into his ear. “Please be patient for me, Big Guy, and I promise I’ll kiss you tonight.” A rumble came from deep in their chest, and I knew he was satisfied with my promise. “Now, tell me about this breakthrough in your research, Dr. Banner,” I said quietly. I backed away and gave Bruce a wink before settling into the chair next to him, taking my glass, and pulling the blanket over me.

Bruce launched into all but a dissertation on brain chemistry and something about removing markers that I was just a little too buzzed to fully follow, but I caught enough to maintain a conversation, though Bruce didn’t need much help once he was off and running. Nat came out and sat with us, and I wasn’t excited about it. Bruce finished his explanation and quiet fell around the fire.

“Cookie-” Nat started.

I held up my hand. “I’m done with it tonight, Nat. I am very cozy, pleasantly buzzed, and not in the mood to listen to you try and apologize for unconscious biases and general butting in. Talk to me tomorrow when I’m not still buzzing. Or hungover for that matter.”

She silently passed me the bag of pretzels in her hand and a bottle of water. I took them. “Now, this is what an appropriate apology looks like.” I said as I cracked the water and swilled it down before opening the bag of pretzels. I took a fistful of them before passing the bag back. I got up with my fistful of pretzels and my glass with the last of the champagne and went inside. I finished the glass, set it on the bar, grabbed my handbag and shoes and headed for the elevator. I texted Bruce and told him I would be by his room later and he should let me know when he got away.

I went to my room and stripped out of the heinous dress as soon as I closed the door, and headed for the shower. I scrubbed the makeup away and tried not to scrub at the gross feeling I had clinging to my skin from the idea of my queerness being a full subject of conversation. I got out and flopped on the bed, dozing off until I heard my phone ding. Bruce let me know he was back in his quarters. I slipped into a comfortable bra and underwear, sleep shorts and a tank and pulled a light robe on top before I padded down the hall to the elevator. Sam and his date were in there and I let it go by. I waited a minute and pushed the call button again. The lift opened and I stepped in. It opened on Bruce’s floor and I padded up the hall to his door and knocked softly. 

The door opened and I stepped in. He was already in his ‘Hulk shorts’ that were designed to not tear when he shifted. He shut the door behind me.

I smiled. “Part of me was hoping to finish taking that suit off myself.”

He grinned. “Big Guy’s impatient. I rescued it so you can do that another time.”

I laughed. “Sounds like a plan. See you later, Bruce.” I pecked him on the cheek and stepped back to give him some room.

“See you.” Then, he made the smoothest transition between forms I’d yet seen, and the Hulk was towering over me. I smiled up at him. “Hey, big guy.”

He bent low over me with a snort. “Valhalla pretty before.” He looked just a little disappointed.

“Sorry, Hulk, I didn’t know how long I would be waiting, and I really wanted a shower.” I reached out and stroked his hand as I looked up at him. “I’ll wear something fancy for you another time.”

He smiled and caressed my cheek with one finger. “Valhalla still pretty.”

I smiled back. “Thanks, sweetie.” I might be the only person to have ever seen the Hulk blush. A deeper green spreading over his cheeks, his smile going a little bashful at the new endearment and I felt my heart flutter a little.

Bruce’s quarters were fairly minimalist, as expected of someone who spends most of their time working. Hulk took my hand delicately, letting my palm rest over the edge of his fingers. He led me through a larger pair of doors to another part of the suite, which seemed to be scaled with him in mind. I could see the reinforcements in the walls and doors, and a starkly smooth floor of metal. It was pretty obvious this used to be a safe room, but Hulk was making it his own. There was a shelf with stones and knick knacks he must have slipped in his pocket on missions. Another shelf had a couple of movies I remembered from around the time of Bruce and my childhood. The floor was covered in area rugs, some with colorful designs and others deep pile and soft. The bed was gigantic, like two California Kings mashed together, on a frame that looked made of something like tungsten. Maybe it needed to be to accommodate a three-quarter ton giant. The obviously custom-made sheets were soft, in a gentle shade of lavender. Everything about the room screamed that this was where he used to be held, but he was making a place for finding calm instead. I immediately knew what I wanted to add to the decor.

He scooped me up and deposited me on the bed, which would have required a comical amount of clamboring for me to accomplish on my own as tall as it was. The bed was hard under me, barely shifting under my weight, but when he placed a knee on it, the mattress dipped as one would expect from a normal bed. I tried not to get wrapped up in the engineering problem of how to construct things meant to hold up to daily use by a Hulk. That was a fun Tony conundrum. I currently had a bigger one.

He crawled toward me, and I would be lying if I said something deep in my brain stem didn’t scream at me to run from the giant on his hands and knees before me, smiling with something just a little predatory behind his eyes. I knew I was going to have to take control if we wanted this to go well. I trusted he’d never intentionally hurt me, but Hulk was just too strong and impulsive by nature to be entirely safe without firm boundaries. I rose up on my knees. “Hey, Big Guy.” I spoke softly but seriously, pulling in his focus. “We need to talk about what you’re wanting to do tonight, okay? No surprises.” 

He paused, then his expression shifted to worry, his heavy brow knitting together as he met my eyes. “Hulk want same as Banner. Want kisses. Want touch Valhalla.” He raised a finger to delicately glide over my side and hip and down my thigh. “Here.” His fingertips skimmed my cheek and glided down my neck to my collarbone gently shifting the collar of my robe. “Here.” He brought his face so close, a shadow from actual touch. “Hulk be so gentle. No hurt. Hulk never hurt Valhalla.” His voice went a little thready, on the edge of a plea, it was such a strange quality in his bass rumble. “Valhalla touch Hulk, too. Any touch Valhalla want.” He closed his eyes, his hand hovering at my side, asking with his body as much as his voice. “Anything.” He sounded so desperate. For touch, skinship, he would let me lead just to be accepted by someone, and it made my heart ache.

I nuzzled my face against his gently. “That sounds just perfect, sweetie.” I pushed my robe off my shoulders, letting it pool around my body. Then, I reached up and took his face in my hands and he froze. I caressed his brow, his cheeks, his jaw thoughtfully. It was an interesting quandary, figuring out how to approach kissing a mouth so much wider and larger than mine. I ultimately decided I just had to go all in. I pressed my parted lips against his, and he sighed.

_____________First Smut Alert!________________

I explored his mouth with my lips, teeth and tongue and he gathered me against him with one hand. He leaned back against the headboard amongst the pillows, settling me against his chest. I kissed him slowly, as though eating some soft, ripe fruit until he purred beneath me, kissing me back. The sound rumbled through me, vibrating straight through my core. I shuddered against him with a sigh. 

He smiled against my lips, “Valhalla always like Hulk’s voice,” sounding just a little smug. He stroked his hands from my wrists up to my shoulders and down my back to my waist.

I chuckled. “I do love Hulk’s deep voice. It makes my body feel so relaxed and good.” I ran my hands down his neck and over his shoulders and chest.

One of his hands ran up my scarred thigh to my hip, the other cupping my face and neck all at once. “Hulk love making Valhalla feel good.” He captured my mouth again, his lips moving gingerly against mine, also trying to sort the logistics of our size difference.

My mouth moved to his chin and along his jaw, leaning against him. “Does Valhalla make Hulk feel good, too?” I murmured into his ear.

He shivered at my voice, “Hulk feel-”, and then he gave a huge, shuddering sigh as I licked the edge of his ear.

I gave a low chuckle. I took his earlobe between my teeth with a lick and he moaned outright, head lolling back, and the sound shot straight through my gut. I nuzzled the soft skin just below his ear and he ran his hands up my thighs, wrapping them around my hips. “More,” he sighed. I nipped there with my teeth and his hands flexed in a way that ground my core over the firm muscles of his abs and I gasped against his ear. He did it again and I drug my nails across his collarbones and down his chest with a soft moan. He growled in pleasure, one hand flying up to wrench into the pillow by his head, the other disappearing behind me as I felt his abs flex beneath me. I sat up, straddled just below his pecs and looked down at him. He looked up at me like a man lost, pupils blown, and I noticed for the first time how thick his lashes were framing his emerald green eyes. No gentle touches here, I noted. Good to know.

I looked over my shoulder to see he had reached down to adjust himself in the shorts, palming his erection. He froze like he’d been caught. I looked down at him and smiled fondly. “Would you like to touch yourself, Hulk?” 

He licked his lips. “No.” He moved his hand back to my hip. “Not want Valhalla go.” He was trying not to cross a boundary, expecting me to run away, not knowing where the limits of my acceptance of him, or this interaction were.

But, that told me a lot about how safe I really was in the situation, how much control Hulk could have, which was kind of the whole idea. The thought that this incredibly powerful person, someone who could hurt me, take or do whatever they wanted, but wouldn’t because of who he was and wouldn’t test because of the feelings he had for me… It was a heady feeling. That someone like the Hulk, practically a demigod, felt he needed my acceptance, my trust, my affection in that moment more than he needed to satisfy whatever urges or impulses he was having made me feel incredibly powerful in my own right. In the same way I would never tease him physically with more than I could promise, it made me want to give him more, offer him what I could. 

“Hmm…” I leaned down and kissed him again, long and sensual. Then, I slid over his shoulder, dragging the nails of one hand behind me over his chest. He groaned, body flexing again, the hand that had been on his groin now fisting the sheets. I spooned myself against his shoulder, licking and nipping my way up his neck to his ear. “Would Hulk like me to stay,” I purred against his ear, “touch you while you handle that hard cock?”

He growled, shuddering with need, and the sound made me sigh against his ear, eyes fluttering shut, rolling my body against him. He moved so fast it made me flinch, immediately pushing the waistband of the shorts down enough to free himself, fisting his erection. It was intimidating to say the least, but everything about him was intimidating. He groaned with a flex of his hips as he squeezed.

“Oh… look how hard you are, big guy.” I nuzzled the side of his face, letting him see that I was looking at him. “All for me?” He grunted and pumped his fist over it. Prespend beaded at the tip, dripping down. “Show me what you like, Hulk.” He rolled his palm over the head, smearing the bead of liquid back down his shaft. “Show Valhalla how you handle a cock that damn big.”

He groaned and panted as he jerked himself roughly. “So turned on, so excited just for me,” I encouraged him on, sucking and biting his neck and the back edge of his jaw while he rutted up into his fist. 

I ran my hand down his chest, brushed his nipple, teasing it and then pinching and he gasped. “Valhalla…” he moaned. “Hulk…” he licked his lips, biting down, “Hulk want…”

“Do you wanna come for me, big guy?” I licked the shell of his ear and he shuddered. “Come for me, Hulk,” I put some whine into it. He pumped himself so hard and fast I could hear him hitting his pubic bone with his fist. “Let me see how good I make you feel. Please, sweetie, come for me.” I bit his ear and dragged my nails up his chest, hard enough it might have drawn blood from anyone else. His entire body spasmed and he came with a ragged shout, spurting across his chest over and over. 

I kissed his ear and nuzzled the side of his face as he rode the waves of his release back down. “How you doing, big guy?” I giggled and he chuckled through his heaving breaths. “I’m happy I could help you feel so good, sweetie.”

He grabbed a corner of the sheet and wiped his hand and chest. Then he pulled me back onto his body, kissing my head and stroking my back idly. “Valhalla stay? Hulk help Vallhalla feel good, too.” His hand drifted down over my ass and thigh and back up, but his eyelids were already getting heavy.

I kissed his chest. “I can’t, I’m sorry, sweetie. Sharing a bed with a sated, sleepy Hulk doesn’t sound like a safe idea. But, I will cuddle you until you’re ready to sleep, okay?”

He looked a little disappointed, but nodded. I settled by his head again, this time petting and stroking his hair. Within minutes, he yawned, turning on his side toward me. I dipped down and kissed his forehead. “Goodnight, sweetie.”

He reached up and stroked my face. “Goodnight.”

I grabbed my robe, slid down from the massive bed and padded across the apartment to the door, turning off the light as I slipped out.

Chapter Text

I slipped quietly out of Bruce’s room, leaving Hulk to sleep and I rode the elevator down to the common floor. I was stone sober now and hungry, and cheesy scrambled eggs with toast sounded like the perfect remedy for everything. That’s where Steve found me, setting my plate in the sink. “Hey, Steve. You hungry?”

He shook his head. “Buck and I both heard,” he started.

“Steve, I’m not interested in you apologizing for your friend.” I said, heading for the elevator.

“I’m not here to apologize for Bucky.” He followed me into the elevator. “I’m here to apologize for me.”

I looked at him, confused as I pushed the button for my floor. “What?”

“I didn’t know you thought that I only got closer to you because I felt bad about what happened between you and Bucky. I’m not uncomfortable around you, Cookie.”

“Steve, how am I not supposed to think that?” We’d gotten closer over the few weeks since the pub, but even with Bucky not around, alone or with the group, he was stiff with me, like he was afraid of me. “You say goodnight and then all but run away from me. You seem to want me to sit by you on movie night, but you sit like a statue, arm not even touching me, like I make you uncomfortable.  We danced tonight and you acted like you couldn’t bear to touch my skin-  or that my scars repulsed you, I can’t tell which.” He was shaking his head, but didn’t interrupt me. “What the hell am I supposed to think when you touch me like it’s not something you actually want to do?”

“Because I might not stop if I do,” he blurted.

I looked at him incredulously. “What?”

He groaned. “I don’t know how to explain this…” He rubbed across his chest with one hand. “I’m not uncomfortable, I’m too comfortable around you. I wanna touch you all the time, Cookie. I want to wrap you around me like a blanket. Ever since that night.”

I thought for a second. “When you, Bucky and I slept together?”

He nodded. “But, I didn’t want Bucky to- ,” he saw my frown and shook his head. “Nono, I know now that isn’t right and you don’t think like that… and I didn’t want you to think…” He groaned again. “I just enjoy being close to you, Cookie. What is it you call it… Skinship?  I’ve never felt like this with someone in my entire life. I don’t know how to explain it. That you can just exist in my space, and don’t want anything from me. No demands. No expectations. It just feels good touching you, and when you touch me.”

He followed me again off the elevator. “People have asked me out since I’ve been back, but it feels wrong. They don’t want me, Stevie, the kid from Brooklyn. They want Captain America,” he looked down at himself, “they want this ,” he clutched at his chest. “Not me. Just this body. They were like that sometimes back then, too.” His palm rubbed across his chest, harder than before, something I’d seen him do on rare occasions before tonight, and I suddenly recognized it now as a self-soothing gesture.

I stopped there in the hall and looked up at him. I’d seen it downstairs. Women, and men, watching him come back from his morning run, looking at him like he was naked. It was something I understood. To have someone look at you like you’re not in there. Like they would be just as happy if there was a sex doll they could buy that looked like you. “It feels gross, doesn’t it?” I said softly.

“You’ve never made me feel like that. When you lean on me, or that thing you do when you just bump my shoulder with your head. When we were at the pub that night, it felt so natural. At the end, when you were laughing again, and we danced, and you were still singing that silly song on the way home. It felt like the end of a date, but you didn’t seem remotely bothered when I just kissed your head and said goodnight. No change in your breath, no racing heart because you wanted more. It made me want to stay so bad I think I panicked.” He reached down and took my hand. “Nobody has ever just accepted me like that, except Buck. Not even Peggy. Everybody wants something from me. You don’t. You just let me exist, however I am.”

He was rubbing his thumb over my knuckles like I was a touchstone. “I know you treat everyone like that. It’s one of the most amazing things about you. The way you just accept people as they are.” 

I felt the blush creep across my cheeks. I looked at him standing there in the hall in his perfect blue suit and damn perfect figure, and the handsome angles of his face with those cornflower blue eyes. “I’ve seen pictures of you,” I said quietly, “pre-serum. Heard you and Bucky talk about how you both were back then. I know that it wasn’t a magic potion.” I took his other hand, thumbing his knuckles like he was rubbing mine. “The bone structure, your gorgeous eyes were there back then, sure. But, so were all the other beautiful things about you, like your kindness, your curiosity and how your face lights up when you see something you’re inspired to sketch, your sense of loyalty and duty, your honesty,” my lips quirked, “that million watt smile. Even your crisp perfectionism.” I looked up and met his eyes again. “All the things I like best about you? Those are all original Stevie.”

He blushed furiously, and that moment of fluster was its own reward as he pressed on. “I just… I didn't want you to think I was…” He gave a frustrated sigh. “It feels selfish when you never ask for anything, and I didn’t want you to feel like I was demanding more from you when you already give so much of yourself. To all of us. I don’t want to just take from you. And I didn’t want to start fooling myself into thinking I was different and there could be something else happening.”

My posture straightened warily. “What do you want, Steve, that you feel like you can’t ask?”

“Why do you always ask that?” he asked quickly. “I’ve only once, that one night, ever heard you ask for what you want.”

It was my turn to sigh and look for words. “Because it’s… easier. My boundaries, or lack thereof, are weird to most people, they get uncomfortable faster than I do, or think things are leading somewhere when they aren’t. And most people aren’t practiced at having discussions about consensual touch. So, it’s easier to let them set the rules of engagement and work inside them.” I shrugged. “I’m usually just more flexible.”

“What do you want, Cookie?” 

His eyes were so earnest, that I nearly felt safe answering his question. I regarded him a minute, pretty sure my face didn’t hide my exhaustion. I was so tired. It was a long evening, and I was hurting physically, yes, but I was emotionally tired. I decided to take a risk, tired of denying myself for others’ comfort. “At this moment? I want a hug.” He started to shift closer and I put a hand on his chest to stop him. “But, I want you to be fully committed to it, and not be nervous about this anymore. Give me the hug you really want to give me.” I met his eyes. “I want a Stevie hug.”

He smiled. It wasn’t the big, showstopping smile. It was gentle, and warm, and private. The kind of smile that can come before a first kiss, but his eyes never left mine, never did that lip drift. “I can do that.” He pulled me close and I slipped my hands around his waist. His arms wrapped around me as I laid my head against his chest. He relaxed and curled over me, pressing his face into my hair with a sigh. One of my hands stroked his spine and one of his hands slid to the back of my neck, fingering the silky strands at my nape. “I’m sorry it took me so long to just talk to you.”

“I’m just glad you finally did, Stevie.” His breath caught as I used the old nickname casually, and he squeezed me a little. After several long moments, I gave him a squeeze and pulled back enough to look up at him. 

He seemed just a little reluctant to let me go, his hands still resting just above my waist. “What else would you like, Cookie?”

I regarded him for a long moment. Maybe this could be okay… “What you said before… how you felt about sleeping together?” His eyes took on just a little glint of what looked like hope and he nodded, so I continued. “Would you like to join me, Stevie?”

He smiled again, and it was sweet, and warm and just a little shy and made my heart give a happy skip. “I would.”

Soon we were curled together in my bed. Steve hadn’t wanted to go back to his room to change, I wondered if he felt like one of us would chicken out if he left. I used to have an extra pair of basketball shorts I kept around for Bucky or Bruce just in case, but it had been well over a month since I’d had a late night visit from either, and I couldn’t find them. So Steve was in his undershirt and a baggy pair of my plaid pajama pants that were comically short on his long legs, but were better than sleeping in his suit pants again or just his underwear to his mind. He pulled me into the curve of his body and I cozied my back against his chest, his arm over my waist and his face nuzzled against my neck at the edge of my bonnet. He sighed with such a deep contentment as he settled that I fell asleep smiling.

When I woke he was gone, and JARVIS let me know they were all gone on a mission. So, I rolled over and slept in for the first time in forever, the smell of him, warm and comforting, on my pillow.

The team didn’t return until a week later. The quinjet came down on the deck and the team emerged a mess. Covered in dust, smelling like smoke and not in that warm bonfire way. They reeked of structure fire, burnt plastic and acrid chemical smoke. Clint had a bullet graze on his arm, Bucky had a busted lip and his jaw was swollen on one side, Steve was moving like he might have a fractured rib or three, Tony was going to have to get the right leg of his suit pried apart to get out of it. They staggered in, looking like a thousand miles of rough road and I pulled out shower beers for everyone and sent them off. 

Bucky stopped to look at me as I handed him a longneck. “Welcome back, Buck. Don’t forget an ice pack for that jaw.”

He looked at me, seemed about to say something, and Steve came up and put an arm around me. The smell that hit me in a wave as he did put me straight back in a wasteland of rubble and choking dust and chaos. I pulled away and walked as fast as I could back out to the deck. The two of them followed me, faces full of concern but I waved them off refusing to let them get close as a wave of nausea rolled over me. “Nope, y’all reek.”

I turned my face to the wind, willing it to take the smell away, breathing the thin air deeply, one hand on my chest, feeling my pounding heart and willing it back down, grinding the heel of my hand against my sternum. I forced my breath back from the shallow pants, willing myself to count them, to ground myself. In- two-three, hold-two-three, out-two-three, hold-two-three… Over and over until I felt like I could be in my own body again.

And, then, like always, I went back to work. Big post-mission dinner for everyone with roast beef, rotisserie chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, roasted vegetables, salad and both apple pie and blackberry cobbler with ice cream for dessert. 

I was afraid I’d have to set Steve’s desk on fire to get him away from his post-mission reports, but whispering about warm apple pie in his ear as I leaned over the back of his chair seemed to do the trick. Even Bucky came to dinner, and that had been a hit or miss proposition lately. He actually showed up early and helped me set the food out. He said precious little, but I didn’t need to know him as well as I did to see the gears turning. He disappeared again right after dinner, and hadn’t eaten much, at least by super soldier standards.

Steve helped me clean up after dinner until I got tired of seeing how much pain he was in moving around with the cracked ribs. So I set him, and his damn supersoldier metabolism, up at the counter with his third piece of pie and he told me what he could about the mission while I finished. Afterward, he asked if we could watch a movie, but I told him I wasn’t about to snuggle up to his poor, battered body today. He tried to deny that he was in that much pain but then I slid my arms around him in a hug and strategically but gently squeezed him in a way that made him jump and yelp in my arms. I sent him to get some rest with an ice pack, a thank you, and a kiss on the cheek.

That night, I woke up crying. My standard brand of nightmare, reliving the Battle of New York again, but this time it was the aftermath. The hours I spent helping, shoving the medics away, telling them to help people worse off than me until they dragged me into a first aid tent to clean and dress the burns I couldn’t really feel through the nerve damage and shock before putting me in a queue to be transferred to a burn center. I’d slipped away when, after the third bag of IV fluids and a long sleep, I was still waiting for a transfer. I stole a set of scrubs, replacing my burnt clothes and went to help the support staff. In my dreams, I was still feeling the dust and sweat caked on my skin, smelling the smoke and ozone, tasting blood in my mouth, and hearing the shrieks and crying. I relived the days I spent pushing through the pain in my own body because I couldn’t bear to lay in a hospital bed and I had no home to go back to. The hospitals were full of people even more hurt than me. Staring at the walls, hearing the neverending news cycle from a television sounded like torture more than being on the street trying to do something. I could feel the scorching heat on my body like it was fresh, the pain of my clothes rubbing against the edges of the wounds on my body, smell the rotting leviathans in the street and smoke from ongoing fires even through the respirator, see what they pulled from the rubble knowing none of it would ever be my people. 

My scars burned while I sat on my bed gasping, even though they hadn’t hurt back then because the nerve endings got fried. I hugged my own body, trying to ground myself. I finally got up, knowing sleep wasn’t coming back tonight. I pulled on a robe over my tank and lounge pants and headed to the commons. My empty room felt as hollow as I felt inside, and I couldn’t stay there. I thought of going to Steve’s room for a minute, but I remembered the stiff pain he walked with, and decided asking to be held by someone with multiple cracked ribs just because I had a nightmare was a dick move, extra tough superhuman or not.

I stood in the kitchen for a long time, casting about for distraction. Ultimately, I settled on bread. I needed physical activity, something to do with my hands. The ingredients came to hand and into the bowl, my hands sinking into the flour and milk and egg with thoughtless familiarity. The dough pulled together into a shaggy mass and I dusted the counter with flour.

“Would you like some music, Cookie?”

“Not tonight, JARVIS.”

“Would you like me to call someone for you? Perhaps Captain Rogers or Sergeant Bar-?”

“ No !” I took a breath. “No, JARVIS,” I said more calmly. I dumped the dough onto the counter and leaned my hands against the edge with a sigh. “Thank you for thinking of me, JARVIS, but no, I think I’d rather be alone for awhile.”

“Of course, Cookie. Please, do not hesitate if I may be of assistance.”

I smiled a little. “I appreciate you, JARVIS.”

“And I, you, ma’am.”

My hands touched the dough and knew what to do on their own.

Lift, slap, fold. Lift, slap, fold, Lift, slap, fold. 

The rhythm took me, the familiar repetitive rhythm becoming white noise as I worked the dough.

Lift, slap, fold. Lift, slap, fold, Lift, slap, fold. 

It came together as my thoughts unwound in the meditation.

Lift, slap, fold. Lift, slap, fold, Lift, slap, fold. 

Love of mine some day you will die,

But I'll be close behind.

I'll follow you into the dark.

No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white;

Just our hands clasped so tight,

Waiting for the hint of a spark.

If heaven and hell decide,

That they both are satisfied,

Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs:

If there's no one beside you,

When your soul embarks;

Then I'll follow you into the dark.

Lift, slap, fold. Lift, slap, fold, Lift, slap, fold.

The lyrics rose in my mind like smoke, and fell from my lips without thought.

Lift, slap, fold. Lift, slap, fold, Lift, slap, fold.

I sang the familiar words softly, not sure if I was mourning the dead or the absent.

Lift, slap, fold. Lift, slap, fold, Lift, slap, fold.

I wondered if they all missed me as much as I did them, and hoped they didn’t.

If heaven and hell decide,

That they both are satisfied,

Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs:

If there's no one beside you,

When your soul embarks;

Then I'll follow you into the dark.

I slapped the dough into a bowl

I will follow you into the dark…  

I turned for a cloth to wipe the counter.

Bucky stood in the doorway in soft flannel pajama pants and a gray henley, his hair loose and falling against his face. The red sweater I’d made him was clutched in his right hand. He looked troubled in a way I hadn’t seen in months, and I didn’t have space for it.

I started scrubbing the loose flour and dough residue from the granite counter as he padded over on bare feet. He watched me, waiting for me to acknowledge him as I rinsed the washcloth, hung it on the sink, then pulled a towel from the drawer to cover the dough while it rose. I pulled a beer from the fridge and cracked it as I walked past him to the sitting area and picked up my new crochet project. I sat in one of the big armchairs, right leg tucked under me, so I could isolate myself from him. I knew he’d sit next to me if I sat on the couch.

He came over and looked down at me. “Bad one tonight?”

I started working, fingers looping, hook darting in and out.

He said my name, and watched my jaw tense.

“Dammit, please don’t ignore me.” He knelt in front of my chair trying to catch my eyes. “ Please. ”

“Why not? You have since-” I sighed roughly and it was almost a growl as I realized I’d messed up my pattern and tore out the last several stitches. “I don’t want to do this right now, Bucky.”

He said my name as a plea, putting his metal hand over my working fingers, clinking faintly against the metal of my crochet hook, lowering them to my lap. “I’m sorry.”

I sighed again, all the air leaving my lungs with the loss of whatever energy I had to fight whatever was about to happen. I just felt exhausted as I stared at the ceiling. “For what, Bucky? What do you think you need to apologize for?”

“I was selfish, and a coward.”

I looked down at his hand covering both of mine. 

“I didn’t consider your feelings. You were right, I was looking for an easy out. Cookie, please look at me. Please.” 

I finally met his eyes, my face impassive and my eyes tired.

“I didn’t listen to what you were really telling me that night. All I was thinking about was you rejecting me, and looking back, I didn’t even know what I wanted in the first place. You were right. I put you on the spot because I didn’t want to deal with my own shit. You had every right to shut me down.”

I sighed, hanging my head back against the back of the armchair again, looking at the ceiling.

He rested his other hand on my knee. “I did what you said. I got out there, got a therapist, met people, even went on some dates. And, I held you at arm’s length that whole time. I told myself it would make it easier for me to be open to other experiences, other people. I told myself it was because I didn’t want to use you as a crutch anymore. I didn’t consider how that would feel to you.” 

I looked at him again. “What do you want me to say, Buck?” I sounded tired.

“You don’t have to say anything. You kinda said everything the night of the party. You’ve always been totally honest with me. I should have just talked to you. It was a dick move, and you deserve better than that.” He sighed. “When I tried to go back on it all, to tell you my feelings at the club that night-”

“You mean the night you tried to go zero to sixty in two seconds flat? By feeling me up on the dance floor? Like you hadn’t been reinforcing a wall between us for weeks?” I said icily. 

He winced and nodded. “You wouldn’t let me, and I understand why, how fucked up and disrespectful that was. I’m sorry for that, too. But, back then I convinced myself it was just because you finally realized I wasn’t worth your time.” He dropped his forehead on his hand, the weight pressing the cool metal more firmly on my hands. “But you still never abandoned me. You always knew when I was in a bad way. Some of those texts, things you left at my door,” he looked down at the sweater next to him, “they probably saved my life.”

His thumbs stroked my hands and my knee where his hands rested. “You know what broke me?”

I quirked an eyebrow at him, the only tell in my still stony expression. 

“At the party…” He huffed, “That damn fist bump. How you were treating me different from everyone else around you, and I couldn’t be mad about it, even though I wanted more, because I asked you to .” He looked up again. “I didn’t even ask, I just treated you different first. That was enough for you. I realized you were just doing exactly what you always do, reading the cues and giving people what they need. I drew the line with my own actions, and you just… followed my lead. You didn’t agree, you didn’t know my motives, you obviously didn’t want it, but you just respected it anyway, no question, exactly like you said you would. It felt like you just let me go.

“I was in the men’s room next door when I heard you and Nat. I knew I hurt you, but I didn’t know that hurt just got thrown on a pile. I didn’t understand that’s why you never questioned me or pushed back. That it was something that’s happened enough that you just don’t bother fighting it anymore. I realized then you never gave up on me, you just kept moving while I figured my shit out. I would take it back if I could, Cookie. God, I’m so sorry. I want to fix it. I understand if I can’t, but I want to know how I can make this right between us.” He looked up at me, his blue-gray eyes so earnest.

I pulled a hand out, reached for my neglected beer and took a pull while I regarded him. I wanted what we had back, I wanted my friend back. But was it more than that? I didn’t even know how I felt about him anymore. It was all a tangle that probably started even before he pushed me away, and I’d refused to tease it out before this under the knowledge that it didn’t matter as long as he was going to wall himself off from me. I thought he maybe wanted more, that he had other than strictly platonic feelings for me, but how long would it last before he wanted more than I was willing to give anyone, or until he ran away from me again? 

I sighed. That was always the question, wasn’t it? How long can a small, beautiful thing last when the world keeps changing, and it can shift under your feet in a second? 

My jaw was tight, voice quiet and rough as I set my beer down again. “Are you done with this nonsense then?” I honestly didn’t know if I meant the apology, the pushing me away, or the punishing himself. Probably all of it.  

He looked stricken, his chest physically pulling in tight. He nodded, and I thought I saw tears in his eyes just as he looked down and started to move his hands.

But, that’s all life is, isn’t it? Everything comes and goes, and all you can do is appreciate the beautiful moment while it lasts. Especially that moment when he looks up at you with his entire heart in eyes the color of the bay when a storm is rolling in. 

“Then,” I choked, “can I have a hug, Bucky?”

Chapter Text

He looked up at me again and I watched his eyes fill with hope. “ God , yes,” he breathed. He reached up and I bent down to wrap my arms around his neck. He gathered me up in his arms, lifting me and sitting back in the armchair. He settled me in his lap, holding me tight, our faces buried against each other’s necks. He rubbed my back and stroked my arm, muttering a litany of apology against my skin. 

I drowned myself in the scent of his skin, the warmth of him, the strength of his arms and hands holding me, the sound of his voice. “I missed you so much, Buck,” I murmured.

“Oh, sweetheart…” He pulled back, taking my face in his hands. His thumbs stroked wet across my face, tears I didn’t know I was crying. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for hurting you. I was just punishing myself, I got inside my own head. I convinced myself I’d been using you, or that you just felt bad for me. That I didn’t deserve being close to you, for who I am, what I’ve done, and then for being an ass, so I shouldn’t beg you for forgiveness, and it just fed on itself the longer it went. I still won’t ask for you to forgive me for hurting you, I just need you to understand how sorry I am.”

I rested my forehead on his. “James Buchanan Barnes, you’re a goddamn fool.”

“I am,” he answered fervently. 

I huffed out a sobbing laugh.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled into my neck again “Your fool,” he whispered so quietly I’m sure he didn’t intend for me to hear. My breath hitched and he froze. He squeezed me tighter with a little groan. 

I took a deep breath. “Do I pretend I didn’t hear that, or do we need to have a second talk tonight?”

“No.” He looked at me again. “I’m not apologizing because I want something from you. I want to show you I’m trying. Give you time to decide for yourself. ”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

I snuggled back into him, we sat quietly for a while. “Did you have a nightmare, too?” I finally asked.

“Just haven’t been sleeping worth a damn,” he answered against my neck, and I tried to ignore what lay between those lines, or the way his body felt smaller and harder than I remembered. How before he had more bulk through his chest and shoulders and thighs, and enough body fat to give a little softness when I curled into him. “Came down to steal some of Bruce’s tea blend. I like what you did with it this time.”

“I wondered what had been happening to it.” I chuckled. “I can make you some.” I shifted to get up.

He stopped me, catching my legs and pulling them back in his lap. “No,” he said, nuzzling my cheek, “this is better.” He idly rubbed his thumb over my kneecap. “What about you? More nightmares lately?”

“Some. This one was just… intense.” I rested my head on his shoulder. “I almost had a full panic attack this afternoon when you all came home. It was the smell. I guess my brain decided I needed to have one tonight regardless.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No…” I wrapped an arm around him again and smiled into his neck. “This is better.”

He chuckled and I felt his cool metal fingers against my scalp. I sighed in contentment against him.  

My project had somehow not fallen out of my lap in the whole process, and he fingered the soft, extra chunky yarn in purple, green and charcoal delicately. “What are you working on now?” 

“A bedspread for Hulk. He doesn’t have a blanket big enough for his bed, or just him for that matter. His feet always stick out, even with the Comfort Quilt.”

“Wait, Hulk has a bed?”

“Of course he does. His room is actually pretty cozy for something that used to be just a containment cell in Bruce’s quarters. They’ve made a lot of progress.”

He got quiet after that.

I sat up and looked at him. “Bucky?” My eyes narrowed at him a little. “What do you wanna ask me?”

He looked at me, and then away. “Nothing.”

My eyes widened. “Oh my god , you want to ask me if I’m involved with Bruce and Hulk, don’t you?” He looked at me like I read his mind. “Un-fucking-believable.” I shoved his arm off my legs and stood up. He just made up with me after months and immediately he wants to pull some jealous bullshit? Fuck that noise.

“But, I didn’t! I wasn’t going to!” he insisted as I walked back to the kitchen, him hot on my heels. I dumped the dough out of the bowl, punching it to watch it deflate. He pulled me away and hoisted me up on the opposite counter, positioning himself between my knees and planting his hands firmly on my thighs.  “Sweetheart, listen to me,” he insisted.

“Stop it, Buck!” I snapped back. “You don’t get to have opinions about how I interact with others, and you don’t get to bully me into a conversation just because you’re stronger than me!”

“I know that!” he snarled. I froze and I felt that door slam on my emotions while my brain fell into full analysis mode. 

He must have seen it on my face because he seemed to deflate and dropped his head on my shoulder. “Goddammit, I used to know how- Just- please… I know I’m doing it all wrong, Cookie.” I started breathing again, eyeing him with suspicion. “I know. I had that thought. I won’t say I didn’t. But, I didn’t ask. Because I know . I should know that about you, even if I hadn’t heard that part, too. I’ve seen it. You helped me vet dates, when I wouldn’t even touch you, for god sake.” He moved his hands to either side of me, shaking his head against my shoulder. “I’ve fucked this up so much, sweetheart.” He raised his head and met my gaze with pleading eyes. “But, can I have the smallest credit for the things I stop myself from doing?”

He had a point, I guess. You aren’t responsible for your first thought, just your second. I considered him for a moment. “I have a friendly arrangement with them.” I said matter-of-factly. “But, more importantly, why would you feel jealous of Bruce or Hulk?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”

“You know, they didn’t replace you over the last couple of months. Neither did Steve. Nobody could.” I reached my hand up to cup his cheek. “Any time, any thing , you feel was lost between us is only about you and me. Nobody took it from you, Buck.”

He leaned into my touch, closing his eyes. “I know. It’s my own fault.” He sighed heavily. “I used to be better at this… Used to know how to be around people. It’s so hard now.” He cupped my hand against his face with his own. “It’s even harder for me to wrap my head around how you feel and think about people… and relationships. It’s so different from even what I remember.” He met my gaze again. “But I want to. And I want to be a part of it.” He turned his face, kissing my palm and rolled his eyes back to me, full of adoration in a way I couldn’t hold space for. “Because you amaze me constantly.”

I suddenly felt like my head was going to explode. I looked away, as my gut clenched and I blushed so hard my ears were hot. Oh, no.

“Goddammit…” His hands slid up my thighs to grasp my hips and his nose brushed the edge of my ear, his voice dropping an octave as his breath slipped warm down my neck. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen…” 

I nearly combusted on the spot. No, nonononotthis… My legs involuntarily tried to close, make space between us, forgetting he was already between them, so my thighs just squeezed his hips as he lowered his lips to graze the dip just under my ear. I gasped and jerked away to look at him, accidentally knocking the back of my head on the cabinet behind me. “Fuck!” I exclaimed as the handle cracked me right at the base of the skull.

Bucky’s right hand was behind my head instantly, cupping the base of my skull. He tipped my forehead against his as his fingers felt for injury. “You okay, doll?” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Shit, that hurt!”

He was laughing, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you, sweetheart.” He kissed my forehead. “But, that was adorable.”

“Damn fool…” I grumbled, but I couldn’t do it without an underlayer of fondness.

“I am.” He said just as fondly.

“Can I take care of that bread now?”

He gave me a look of mock woundedness. “Jesus, you know how to kill a moment, Cookie.”

I chuckled. “It’s a hazard with me.” I kissed his nose with a grin and he moved enough to let me slip down, keeping my hand in his for support.

I stretched and folded the dough, and decided I’d make cinnamon rolls, patting and stretching it out into a rectangle. Bucky got the butter, sugar and cinnamon out. Soon two trays of cinnamon rolls were resting on the counter to be baked in the morning, everything was cleaned up, and I was yawning.

“Gonna head back to bed?” he asked. 

“Maybe. Are you?”

“Is that an invitation?” He asked with a quirk of his lips, caressing his thumb down my arm.

I smirked. “I don’t know, could you actually sleep?”

“I think I could if I got to hold you.” His expression was serious, somewhere between hope and hunger, but not necessarily lust.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He grinned at me, taking my hand. I think he felt this was the true signal we were okay now. I was still skeptical.

We ended up in my room, which was closer. I shed my robe, leaving me in tank and lounge pants. I hung the robe on the corner of the door and crawled up on the bed. “Big or little?” I asked, tucking my hair into my bonnet and pulling back the covers.

He thought a moment. “Pocket?”

“Sure.” I shifted so he could be near the nightstand and I could be on his right side. He opened the drawer and checked the handgun he insisted I keep there, before crawling in bed. He laid on his back and raised his right arm, looking up at me. I smiled softly at him and tucked my body into his side, laying my head against his shoulder and chest. I tucked one arm between us and the other I wrapped around his waist and rested my knee on top of his thigh. I pushed my breath slow and deep, taking in the familiar smell of him and willing sleep to come find us.

He took my hand from around his waist, bringing it up to kiss my palm and lay it over his heart with a sigh. “God, I missed this...” He wrapped his other arm around to rest his hand on my side, and kissed the top of my head. His fingertips stroked from my hand that scritched gently over his sternum through the material of his shirt down to my elbow, back and forth. His breathing leveled out and matched mine, guiding him to sleep like a lullaby. His cool metal fingers eventually stopped their caressing to still over my hand on his chest as he drifted off. I followed him soon after.

My alarm went off a couple of hours later. I slipped from his embrace and turned it off. I grabbed clothes and went to the bathroom. When I came out, he was mostly on his stomach, face buried in my pillow, knee hitched up, still sound asleep. His hair had half slipped out of its binding, curling against his neck, the covers half kicked off and his henley ridden up. It was a lovely view. The breadth of his shoulders, the adorable little dimples right above the round of his buttocks, and the thickness of his thighs covered in the butter soft flannel pants with flying saucers all over that I’d gifted him. I had a mischievous thought about roughly grabbing his muscular thighs while I licked those dimples, just to see his reaction. But, I slipped out and back down to the kitchen quietly to bake off the cinnamon rolls and otherwise set up breakfast, letting him sleep. He got little enough sleep without interrupting him in the rare instance he was deep enough to not realize I had moved. 

I made my way back to the kitchen, baked off the cinnamon rolls, got the rest of breakfast going and put the coffee on while everything was cooking. 

I pulled down my favorite coffee cup and found a note in it, written in Steve’s print. Can’t wait for movie night, Cookie. But, thanks for making me get some rest. I feel better already. It had a rough, but technical little sketch of a reel-to-reel film projector and a bowl of popcorn in the corner. I couldn’t keep the idiotic smile off my face while I drank my coffee.

Soon things were done, and I had Chuck loaded up to make my rounds to, well, pretty much everyone besides Steve and Bucky. I just knew it was a sleeping in kind of day.

__________Smut Alert!___________

I took breakfast up to the Lab last, per usual. Bruce was hard at work, also as usual. Pepper had demanded Tony not run immediately to the Lab on his return, and I couldn’t blame her. “Breakfast break, Bruce.” 

He looked up with a smile.  “Is it morning already?”

“It is.” It didn’t take much encouragement to draw him over to the small corner sitting area I called the “break corner” and onto the sofa. He ate the eggs and rosemary roasted vegetables with an enthusiasm that let me know he probably hadn’t had a break since the team’s homecoming dinner last night. “The hell did you do before you lived here, Bruce? Sometimes I wonder if you’d ever eat if I didn’t show up to feed you. You probably wouldn’t sleep either, if you didn’t eventually pass out.”

He shrugged. “You're probably not wrong. I think I’m starting to tell time by your visits.”

“Please don’t tell me that, you’re gonna guilt me into coming up here more just to make sure you don’t work yourself to death.”

He smirked, “Promise?”

I raised a brow at him, picking up the huge cinnamon roll I’d brought him. I tore off a piece and ate it myself.

“I thought you came to feed me,” he smirked. 

“If you wanted to see more of me than our weekly walks, Bruce, you could just ask me instead of waiting for me to feed you or for Hulk to declare it’s time for a visit.” I tore off another piece.

He laughed. “True enough.” He took my hand, raising it to his lips and eating the bite himself. “But you’re always a welcome distraction.” I fed him another bite and he hummed in appreciation. 

“Why, Dr. Banner, are you trying to ask me something?” I purred.

“I think I might have some catching up to do. The Other Guy has been gloating the whole time we were gone.”

“Oh? What’s he been saying?” I fed him another bite, and took one for myself.

“Nothing in words, but that he definitely got some…”  he took another bite from me, looking more hungry than he did before the meal, “relief.” Then, he caught my hand to lick the icing away.

I leaned into him, bringing my face close to where he languidly sucked my fingers clean. “Is that what you want, Bruce? Exactly what Hulk had? Or are you going to tell me what you want?”

He reached for the pastry between us, tearing off a piece and pushing it into my mouth, his thumb and forefinger lingering behind my lips so I would lick them clean. I closed my lips around them, drawing my tongue between the digits and he removed the thumb leaving me to roll my tongue around the finger, drawing it from my lips with a wet pop. He sighed roughly. “I want my hands on you. Everywhere. Everywhere he hasn’t touched you. I want to know what you taste like.” The heat in his eyes stunned me. It was lust, yes, but it felt more like hunger. Ten years of being touch starved, believing he had no choice but to cut himself off from human contact for fear of harming someone he cared about. I’d proved that under the right circumstances he could have safety and comfort. 

It wasn’t romantic. I didn’t think Bruce and I ever would be more than friends with occasional benefits, and I was very okay with that at the moment. A moment of simple, utterly honest, unmasked interaction, transactional though it may be, without the fraught weight of emotional entanglement. That sounded like relief right then.

“Your quarters in ten minutes?” I asked. I was like a sandwich in front of a starving man, but it had been a long time for me, too, and I was okay with working out some tension, without complications. The irony that Bruce, of all people, felt like the least complicated relationship in my life right now, was not lost on me.

“Here,” he growled, kissing me with the same languid thoroughness he had used on my fingers. “I want to make you come right here on this couch with your hands around my cock.”  God help the woman who would be catching the full force of this man’s pent up energy.

I took off his glasses, setting them aside on the table. “JARVIS, privacy please,” I said.

“Yes, ma’am,’ AI chirped.

Bruce crashed on my mouth, all tongue and teeth, tasting of cinnamon and sugar and coffee and impatient need. He leaned me back on the couch and hovered over me, slipping a hand under my shirt, and my breath hitched at the feel of his hand against my skin. He palmed my breast, rolling the nipple under his thumb as he kissed me ravenously and my hips rolled under him with a moan. He lowered himself on me, planting his thigh against my rapidly heating core, notching the already hard bulge in his khakis against my hip.

I pulled his shirt free of his pants, sliding my hands up his stomach and around his back, pulling him down to me and he moaned into my mouth when my hands drifted down to grab his ass beneath his lab coat, pulling him harder against me. His hand ran down my body to my thigh, hitching it over his hip, grinding us into each other until we both were panting. 

His lips drifted down my neck, nipping at my throat. I slid my hands between us. He raised enough to let me undo his belt and slacks, pushing them down below his ass, and he gasped in relief as his dick sprung free against my hip. My name fell from his lips in a wounded moan as I wrapped a hand around his hard length. I gave him a few firm pumps, thumbing over the head at the top of each stroke. His forehead fell against mine as he pulled my hand away. “I’m not going to last long… I want to watch you first.”

He slid his hand down the front of my pants and I gasped as his fingers slipped between my folds. “God, you’re so wet already…” he breathed against my ear. His middle finger found my clit, stroking as I groaned, rocking my hips against his hand. He stopped to push my pants down my hips, giving his hand room to work and he returned to slip two fingers inside me and press his palm against me. My hand clenched in his collar, pulling him down to my lips again, ravishing his mouth while I writhed beneath him. I mewled into him as the heat between my legs rapidly coiled and I spasmed around his fingers.

He groaned against my lips and kissed along my jaw. “God, you feel so good.” 

He curled his fingers inside me and I keened in pleasure, reaching down to grasp his cock again. 

He grunted, moving his fingers faster. “I can feel you getting close,” he breathed in my ear. “I wanna see you. I want to lick you off my fingers while you get me off. Please, come for me…” I reached down and adjusted his hand so I could grind myself against his palm harder while his fingers worked my g-spot, my breath coming in quick pants. He leaned down and bit my nipple through my clothes and my orgasm washed over me in a wave of heat as I moaned his name and squeezed his cock in my fist. 

He brought his fingers to his mouth as he collapsed against me, thrusting into my fist squeezed between our bodies. His thigh rubbing between my legs as he rutted himself against me set me off again and I cried out as I watched him chase his own release, sucking and licking his fingers clean of me. His hips lost rhythm a moment later and I slipped my other hand between us just in time to cup the head of his cock, catching the mess in my palm and against the bare skin of my stomach as he came with a groan above me.

His head dropped against my neck, “Christ…” he panted as he came down. He nuzzled against me, I could feel his smile against my skin. “Thank you…”

I chuckled, turning my head to kiss his cheek. “Thank you , Dr. Banner. I don’t think I’ve had that much fun clothed on a couch since my first boyfriend.”

He laughed and kissed my neck, sending a little shiver through me. “It’s been awhile for us both, I guess.” He raised up and gave me one more full, thorough kiss. “You should wash up.”

He let me up and I went to the bathroom to clean up. He had resituated himself by the time I came back, leaning back on the couch looking languid and content in a way that made me glad I’d agreed to our arrangement. “Ugh… I feel like I could sleep for days, Cookie.” He flopped over with a goofy grin. “Not that I’m complaining.”

I laughed, “You certainly shouldn’t be. And I doubt Nat will be either.” 

He looked at me in surprise. I gave him a wink. “I’ve seen how you look at her. You should make your move now that you have more data points.” I pulled the blanket over him. “I’ll have JARVIS wake you up in a few hours.” I ran a hand through his curls and bent down to kiss his forehead fondly. “Have a good nap, Bruce.”

“Thanks,” he yawned.

I turned off the light on the way out and asked JARVIS to wake Bruce around noon if he hadn’t woken up on his own.

Chapter Text

When I got back to the commons with Chuck after delivering breakfasts, Bucky was finishing his own.

“Good morning,” I smiled.

“Morning,” he smiled back, looking just a little let down. “You left.”

“World doesn’t stop because the bunk is warm, Sarge.” I poured my coffee. “Though it is awful hard to leave when the soldier in it is all warm and snuggly.” I gave him a playful wink, then I grabbed my laptop from the counter and took my coffee to the couch.

“Well, maybe next time I’ll just wait for you to come back.” He got up and followed me.

“You’d be waiting awhile.” I smirked as I curled against the end of the big sectional, resting my laptop over my thigh and the armrest. “Though, I doubt you need an excuse to stay in bed all day, Mr. The Military Can’t Make Me Run Anymore.” I opened the laptop and went to my email.

He leaned down over me. “Not if it’s your bed.”

I chuckled. He sat, molding himself against my hip and side like he was spooning me, one hand across the back of the couch and the other on the armrest behind my laptop, bringing his face close. “I’m not playing with you, sweetheart. That was the first time I’ve slept worth a damn since the last time I held you.” 

My mouth went dry for a second at the weight of the silent longing in his gaze, the feeling of his warm bulk closing me in. I tried not to think about why it didn’t feel threatening when he did it, why the unease in my gut didn’t make me want to bolt, pushing it to the back of my mind. Then, I smiled good-naturedly and leaned up to peck his stubbled cheek, still denying the buzzing energy under my skin at his touch, the slide of his breath along my skin, with a playful quirk of my lips. “Glad I could help, Bucky.”

He growled in frustration and dropped his head on my shoulder. “Mood killer.”

I grinned mischievously. “I warned you.”

“You did,” he admitted ruefully. “Guess I’ll just have to keep working on it.” He settled along the couch with an air of mellow acceptance, using my hip and thigh as a pillow. I took a deep breath and purposefully pushed away the flutters under my skin. We had done this so many times before, just relaxing together and I never had to tell my heart to slow. Oh, I’m in trouble, aren’t I? I shook my head and stroked my fingers through his hair as I read emails, and after a bit his breathing evened out into sleep again.

Steve came in a while later, moving considerably better than he had been the day before. Damn supersoldier resilience. He looked surprised, seeing Bucky stretched out asleep against me, my fingers lost in the waves of his hair. I looked up from my screen at him and smiled, mouthing a ‘good morning’. He grinned at me like he’d somehow gotten a gift seeing the two of us comfortable again. He ate breakfast quietly and then came up behind me, leaning over the couch to kiss the top of my head before heading out to whatever he needed to do. Probably finishing the post-mission reports I’d torn him from yesterday.

That evening was movie night. Steve still kept his arm across the back of the couch, but his body felt relaxed and he pressed a kiss to my hair as I leaned into his side. Bucky gave us a look as he came into the commons to join us. It wasn’t jealous or upset, but it was something else I couldn’t read. He went to the fridge, grabbing a beer and then came over, looking down at us, seeming just a little unsure of what to do. I held a hand out to him and he took it with a little smile, settling on my other side, resting our clasped hands on my thigh. By the time the credits rolled, Steve’s fingers were idly playing in the back of my curls, one of my hands resting on his knee, thumb rubbing back and forth in mindless comfort. Bucky’s head was in my lap and my other hand rested on Bucky’s chest with one of his covering it while his other casually stroked my forearm. 

The team spent the better part of the next couple of days recovering, and then had to turn around and go right back out, but they left Bucky behind this time, Nat saying the HYDRA target was too high up to be wise taking him along. They were only gone a few days this time, and came back with an air of excitement like not only was it a successful mission, but maybe something was up. 

Bucky was once again my faithful shadow. Often nearby, if he wasn’t training or filing reports. It was pretty obvious he was still trying to apologize because I could barely stretch to a top shelf without him there, taking something down with one hand, the other on the small of my back. Or moving cases for me in storage while I checked inventory downstairs. If he was there, he was near enough to touch. If he was near enough to touch, we were probably touching. Holding hands, him resting a hand on my back, him rubbing an idle thumb on my shoulder or me on his knee, him twisting a finger in my curls or me combing my fingers through his soft waves. It felt like making up for lost time, trying to get back all those casual touches, but he didn’t make any more overt advances, didn’t make any moves to take things beyond what we used to be, if a somewhat more intense version of it. 

Bruce and Tony had holed up in the lab again, and then a few days later Tony declared it was time for a party. He said it was because of their recent victories, but I suspected it was to blow off some frustration over whatever he was working on, which seemed to have stalled out. Besides all the usual suspects, the who’s who of his circles, Maria Hill joined them as well as another scientist I that had been spending some research time at the Tower, a Dr Cho.

I dipped out after setup. I wasn’t an Avenger, after all, or anyone Tony would normally invite to one of his schmoozefests, and I wanted to be clear long before Thor decided to use Mjolnir as a party game or Tony decided to play truth or dare. Bucky caught up with me in the hall.

“You okay, Bucky? What’s up?”

“Yeah, Cookie, I was checking on you. Seemed like you left in a hurry.”

He stepped onto the elevator with me. “I’m fine, Buck. Just not feeling the energy. Probably going to just curl up with a book tonight.”

“Want some company?” 

I smiled. “Sure.”

“Your place in 15? I’ll make the popcorn.”

I nodded, “Perfect. But give me an hour, I want to shower after I spent half the day prepping for this ‘little just a few friends shindig’ of Tony’s.”

He smiled. “You got it.”

By the time Bucky showed up and said, “What happened to the couch?” I was already on the bed in my pajamas, a tank and flannel pants. 

“In here, Bucky!” I called as I heard the door and he strolled over to the bedroom, popcorn in hand, looking cozy in his sweats and tee shirt. 

He grinned when he saw me cozied up among the pillows. I’d pulled the couch cushions to construct a pillow fort on the bed with the Comfort Quilt thrown over everything as a canopy. He dropped his holster on the dresser and crawled up the foot of the bed and into my little cave, and the space suddenly felt far closer, not just for the bulk of him. His piercing blue eyes felt like they were looking for my soul as he laid down on his side, head nearly touching mine, setting the giant bowl of popcorn between our hips. “Little dim in here for reading, doll,” he smirked teasingly, “bad for your eyes.”

“I know,” I reached under the pillow behind me. “I was saving this, but it seems like a good time.” I handed him a thin package.

He opened it to find a new tablet.

“Before you go all old man, ‘I like the feel of books’ on me, here, look.” I turned it on, and went on to show him I’d adjusted all the settings how I thought he would like them best and had loaded it with all his favorite books as well as several new ones I thought he’d like and old ones, long out of print. 

By the time I finished he was smiling. “How long did you work on this?”

“A few weeks, off and on. I’ve been saving it awhile, but then I found out your birthday was all the way back in March, and I didn’t want to keep waiting for Christmas.” 

“While I was still…” his voice broke for a second, but he recovered. “You put so much thought into this… Thank you.” He turned to me, I think to kiss my cheek, but I turned my face to smile at him at the same moment and he caught the edge of my mouth instead.

We both froze. The shadows and enclosed space suddenly felt suffocatingly intimate, awash with the heady leather and faintly spiced scent of him. His eyes drifted to my mouth where his lips had just touched and back to my eyes, holding them with the intensity of his gaze. He said my name softly, reverently, as he set the tablet down and raised his hand to trace the line of my jaw with his fingertips. “Can I kiss you?”

Goddammit… My mouth went dry and I nodded. “Please, James.”

He groaned softly at the sound of his name and his lips met mine as gently and reverently as he’d made his request, like he was determined in that one kiss to pour all the soft feelings he’d denied himself for months. Deep, but not invasive, warm and tender, his mouth moved against mine without demand until I sighed into him and he pulled away to watch my eyelids flutter open again. “God, you’re beautiful…” he breathed.

Oh, fuck me, I’m doomed. I smiled at him teasingly even though my gaze roamed over his face and mouth without my permission, “No accounting for taste, I guess.”

He shook his head. “Not this time, mood killer.” His hand shifted to cup my cheek and draw me to his mouth again, now determined to steal my breath before I could say anything else.

My hand came up to rest on his chest as he coaxed my mouth open and our tongues glided against each other. He reached down and moved the popcorn bowl behind him before shifting to close the space between us, looping an arm around my waist and tugging our bodies flush to one another. His lips moved down my jaw to my ear, his voice low and gravelly with need, “Tell me you want me to stop, sweetheart.”

One hand drifted to his muscular shoulder, the other into the back of his hair. “Don’t you dare,” I breathed with a shudder as his mouth made its way down my throat. 

His hand drifted down from my waist to my thigh and pulled my leg over his hip as his lips sucked gently at the hollow above my collarbone, drawing a soft moan from me. His hand moved back up my thigh to grip my ass firmly and he growled my name against my skin as he flexed his hand against my ass again to grind my center against his thigh. “Bucky,” I gasped.

BOOM!

The whole world suddenly shifted under us with the violent shake of an explosion, pulling all the cushions and blankets down on us. Bucky threw everything to the side with a roar of frustration and was off the bed, in an instant high alert. “Are you shitting me?!” 

I almost laughed at the cosmic joke as I rolled off the bed to the floor and reached under it for my go-bag, hoodie and shoes. He collected his firearm and then pulled the handgun he’d gifted me with the holster from the side table, depositing it beside me on the bed before moving to the living room. I pulled my shoes and hoodie on, grabbed my wallet and phone from the side table and shoved them in my bag before pulling the pack on.

“JARVIS what happened?!” For the first time, there was no answer, and that might have scared me more than the explosion. I fastened the concealment holster around my waist under my pajama pants and came out as he was slipping his own holster on, moving for the door.

“Stay behind me and to the left. Close.” he instructed, hand on the door.

“Got it, Sarge.” 

He gave me a smirk over his shoulder as he opened the door, covering the hall. We could hear the sounds of fighting below us now as we made our way to the elevator. A form crashed down through the ceiling ahead of us. “Stark, what happened?” Bucky shouted as the metal form ahead of us began to turn.

The figure wasn’t moving right, turning stiffly on repulsors, and I grabbed the back of his shirt, “Buck, that’s not Tony, run!” and I made a quick spin mid stride to book for the emergency stairs at the opposite end of the hall, Bucky hot on my heels as the figure raised a palm toward us. 

I felt my shoulder jerked as Bucky flattened us against the wall and a repulsor blast flew past us. “Keep going!” he shouted.

“What are you-?!” I shouted back as he pulled me off the wall and propelled me down the hall.

“Keep going!” he shouted as he turned back down the hall.

“Bucky I can’t-”

“I’ll catch up!” I watched him dodge a blast in front of him, parkouring off the wall from another to bring his metal fist down on the arm leveling a shot at me again. He gave me a flash of that cocky smile over his shoulder. “I gotta finish what I started, don’t I, sweetheart?!”

I was running again to the sound of blasts and crashing and metal colliding. I hit the door and started moving down the emergency stairs as fast as I could. The commons was the floor below mine and I ran past that emergency door, hearing the chaos intensify. Something crashed above just as I passed the commons level, raining dust and debris. I didn’t stop to see what it was, the battle louder above me, echoing down the cavern of the stairwell. 

I paused at the floor below that. I cracked the door, seeing yet another fight. I stuck my arm inside to trigger the fire alarm and pulled back, just saving my fingertips, dropping to the floor as a blast buckled the heavy fire door, flattening me under it as it came off the hinges. I wriggled and squirmed my way out from under it and tumbled down the next flight as Thor and another suit came flying through the doorway.

“Are you alright, Cookie?” the Asgardian shouted, flattening the head of the suit with Mjonir. 

“Yeah, big guy! I’m going to try to help with evacuation!” I shouted back, scrambling to my feet and taking off again, my entire body protesting the tumble, but the adrenaline was fueling me now, deadening the pain. I knew there weren’t a lot of people in the building so late at night, and I was hoping the escape routes wouldn’t get as clogged as they would be during the day. I wasn’t fast enough to maintain pace in the press of people I could already see making their way down below me, but I could clear floors on my way down. 

I started below the event and office floors knowing no one should be there with no events happening and the old S.H.I.E.L.D offices closed for the weekend. I cleared one level at a time, pushing stragglers I found ahead of me, sending the injured or handicapped on the elevators if I didn’t think they’d make it down the stairs. I was shoving a maintenance guy toward the stairs as he screamed and another suit crashed through the ceiling, ridden by Bucky. I watched him rip the head off the robotic suit with his metal hand as I shoved the screaming man through the door into the stairwell.

“Bucky, you ok?!”

His head swiveled to look at me and that split second, the cold expression, the hard set of his mouth, told me I wasn’t talking to Bucky. “Keep going,” he ordered flatly. 

I caught a glint over his shoulder and shouted, “Incoming!” as I dove back through the doorway. The windows shattered in a barrage of blasts, the concussion driving me against the railing in the stairwell. I wasn’t waiting for anyone once I got them moving now, shouting encouragement down the stairwell to people in front of me. I checked floors more quickly, shouting over the blaring alarms as I moved down the main halls, waving along anyone I saw. My leg was spasming, slowing my progress well behind the crowd, forcing me to lean on the railing and take the steps with care.

After two more floors I was no longer finding anyone and I abandoned my floor checks after another three. I wasn’t equipped to help with the evacuation of the children’s hospital or substance abuse clinic, but I dipped in and gave my clearance card to one of the doctors moving people so they could split and send some people down via the penthouse and service elevators. I was calling Tony everything but a child of God for having a strategic target sitting on top of medical facilities, and for making the thing so damn tall as I still had another 50 floors to go.

Eventually I was close enough to look down at the congestion near the lobby floor, trying to stagger my way down the last two dozen floors. I saw two people in whites on the other side of the crowd, coming up from the service floor under the lobby. 

“John!” I screamed across the stairwell and down to my closing cook. 

He stuck his head out and looked up the stairwell, “Chef?!”

I reached behind me and flashed my cell, calling him. It went through, miracle of miracles, and he picked up. ”Chef! What the fuck?!”

“We gotta split the crowd before they crush someone!” I heard another crash above me and the people pressed harder. “Start yanking people and send them down to the garage!” I hung up and stowed the phone back in the side pocket as I started down again.

John was a big dude, bearded and tatted, and when he started jerking people aside and shouting at them to run for the garage along with my screaming ‘Garage!’ above the crowd, the flow finally started to shift, letting some pressure off as a steady trickle of people started moving the three more floors down to the parking garage. I was still a dozen floors above the lobby, shouting directions, and gradually the flow of people split more evenly, clearing the queue. There was another clang and I looked above me to see Bucky coming down the stairwell,.

“Chef, let’s go!” John shouted.

“Thanks, John!” I returned, making my way down as carefully as I could. “Go, I’m right behind you! Gonna head for the garage!” He nodded and moved immediately through the door and away.

Bucky caught up with me. His pale eyes had gone hard and predatory in the minutes he had been fighting, and something behind those eyes made my blood run cold. He grabbed my arm and started down, dragging me long.

“Bucky! Bucky, wait! I can’t go that fa-!” I tripped as my leg spasmed and he unceremoniously scooped me up, throwing me over his right shoulder and plowed down the stairs at a breakneck pace.

“Bucky, put me down!”

“No.”

“Goddammit! I can walk!”

“Not fast enough.”

“It hurts!”

“You’ll live. We need to move.” We reached the garage as the last few people went through the doors, running for their cars or the entrance.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I swear before god, put me down or I'm gonna throw up on your back!”

“You won’t.”

I roared in frustration as he jogged quickly and silently through the garage lugging me like a sack of potatoes, pack shifted against the back of my head, my holstered gun digging painfully in my gut.

He put me down beside a motorcycle, handing me the helmet. “Put it on,” he ordered when I just looked at it, massaging my stomach gingerly.

“We’re stealing a motorcycle?” I asked, incredulous. I pulled out a hair tie to secure my curls back quickly and handed him another before pulling the helmet over my head.

“No.” he answered, pulling a magnetic key from a hidden spot in the frame. Then he used the hair band and swung his leg over the bike. The Winter Soldier settled and held out his right arm to support me so I could get on behind him.

Chapter Text

I hate it when you see me cry

Your t-shirt soaked through from my eyes

When I'm not as tough as I should be

And you see the softest part of me

I hate it when you see me cry (Yeah, yeah)

I hate it when you see me cry (Yeah, yeah)

I hate it when I let you down

When your smile turns around

And I know I'm supposed to be the one that says

"Babe count on me"

I hate it when I let you down

Oh, oh I'm your rock n' roll Joan of Arc

The queen of broken hearts

I'm here to save the world, but who will save supergirl?

What if I'm weak and I need you tonight?

I hate it, I hate it when you see me cry (Yeah Yeah)

“Hate it When You See Me Cry”

By Haelstorm

I resettled the pack on my shoulders, checking the closures were still secure and I still had my phone and wallet. I knelt and tucked the ends of my pant legs into my shoes. Then, I climbed awkwardly on with his help. He cranked it and I wrapped my arms around his waist. He drove to the exit and weaved past the line of cars to a chorus of honks and out onto the street. It had been a long time since I had ridden with someone, been on a bike at all, but soon I was moving with him easily. 

He gunned it when he felt I was comfortable and wove through traffic at a pace I found frankly terrifying. I eventually couldn’t watch anymore and closed my eyes trying to feel and follow the consistent shifts in his body as we left the city at a breakneck pace, moving through the city traffic and out onto the freeway. His movements gradually became less frequent and more relaxed and when I opened my eyes again the road had opened up and we were moving smoothly through the night on county highways. I leaned against him more, feeling the rhythm of his heart and breath and the movement of his body, trying to calm my frantic heart. 

Eventually, he pulled over at a gas station. He nudged me and I dismounted on shaking legs, holding onto his right arm for support. I extracted my wallet from the pack and handed him a card. He took it and pumped the gas as I hobbled in to use the restroom. I felt cold, and I wasn’t trying to think about whether it was from actual cold or shock, or adrenaline comedown. I pulled more clothes from my pack in the stall, pulling off the hoodie and shaking it out, letting dust and debris fall to the floor. Then, I layered another shirt and a thermal henley before pulling it on again. I stripped off my flannel pants and pulled on a pair of fleece lined leggings under them. I tried not to look in the mirror as I washed my hands. I caught a bare glimpse of dust and eyes too bright and I was out the door again, limping hard back to the pump, pulling the helmet on as I walked, keeping the door slammed shut on any thoughts but moving to the next place, trusting that I was safe with this Winter Soldier version of Bucky, but refusing to think this was over until I could see the Bucky I knew behind those eyes again. 

He mounted back up, holding his arm out again to help me.

“Where are we going?” I asked, barely managing to swing my leg over with a groan of pain and he had to give me a good boost to help me get seated. I had to guide my left leg up onto the peg with a hand under my thigh. 

“Rendezvous at the compound,” he answered stiffly. 

I wrapped my arms around his waist again as I settled and nodded against his back that I was ready. He pulled away from the pump and we were on the road again. I’d never been to the newly built upstate compound, but I’d heard the team talking about moving to it soon, getting out of the density of the city. Shame they hadn’t managed it before the tower got attacked again.

I clung to him as we rode through the night. I didn’t know how far we went before he pulled into a small roadside motel. He nudged me off again. “I thought we were going to the compound.” I tried not to let my teeth chatter when I spoke.

He held out his hand for my card again. “You can’t make it another 2 hours.” He said simply as he walked toward the office. 

“I’m sorry…” I said as I watched him leave and staggered to lean on the wall beside the office window, in the shadow. I was shaking again and I was pretty sure more clothes wouldn’t make it stop.

He came back and showed me a key with a room number, going to get the bike and walk it down to the end of the building. He didn’t wait for me to catch up, I was moving too slow. We had a corner room. When I reached the door he was already methodically sweeping the room. It was a typical setup. Main room with a bed, TV sitting on a large dresser and small table, and beyond that a sink and vanity nook across from the door to the toilet and shower. I shut the door and locked it behind us, deadbolt and chain. 

I dropped the pack and helmet on the table and toed off my shoes. I hadn’t bothered with socks in my rush and I was feeling the chafe in places. I walked to the bathroom, numb and shaky as I shed my clothes. Hoodie, henley, tee, tank, pajama pants, leggings. Bucky was still sweeping the room, now looking under the furniture. I couldn’t imagine for what, but old habits die hard, I guess. I grabbed a washcloth, towels and the tiny bar of soap on the sink, throwing the wrapper in the trash. I kept my back to him, not feeling able to handle looking at Bucky, but seeing the man I met months ago, hunched in a containment cell.

I left the bathroom door open as I turned on the shower, still refusing to look in the mirror. If I didn’t look, I didn’t have to acknowledge anything and I could probably get to bed before I fell apart. Maybe even asleep. God, could I just have an unconscious meltdown for once? It’d be nice to just sleep through the processing part. The endorphin letdown is enough of a bitch to do awake. Hands still shaking with the fine tremor of the adrenaline recovery, I spread a hand towel on the floor beside the tub as a bath mat, closed the toilet and set the bath towels on top of the seat where I could reach them from the shower. 

I heard my name spoken crisply and looked over my shoulder from turning the water on to see him standing in the doorway behind me, watching me in my underwear. His gaze felt more like a surveillance camera than a person. Certainly not the man who was kissing me breathless just a few hours ago. He looked me up and down, coldly, clinically. “How hurt are you?” he finally asked.

I noted he didn’t ask if I was, so I must be even more a mess than I thought. “Nothing that needs a hospital. You?” He had been moving okay, so I didn’t think he was hiding any serious injuries, but I also didn’t know enough about Soldat, as Nat called him, to know how hard he would mask if he were injured.

“I am functioning at approximately 80% capacity.” His lip was swollen, there was a gash above his right temple, I could see scratches and bruises over most of the skin I could see on his right arm and hand, his knuckles and fingertips cracked. 

Damn super soldier toughness. I sighed. “Buck...” My voice sounded thin and tight. When he didn’t respond I turned away, peeling off my underwear and unhooking my bra with my back to him, and stepped in the shower. The water was lukewarm, at best. I started humming “Fly Me to the Moon”, a quiet plea for him to come back to himself, to me. Maybe I was trying to ground both of us with something familiar, keep us connected when I couldn’t see or touch him. I thought I heard him take a deep breath on the other side of the shower curtain. I tried not to think about what had happened to do this to him, but I was near sick with worry that I didn’t know what to do. If he could relapse in a fight like tonight, was it the first time? Did it happen often when he was out on mission? How long would it take him to recover? Would he? I shook my head vigorously, scrubbing my face under the water as though I could extricate that thought with friction.

I scrubbed vigorously, extricating the dust from my hair and skin. My hands, forearms, neck and face stung from who knew how many scrapes and scratches. I could see the bruises blossoming across my arms and legs and feel them in my back from my tumble down the stairs and getting slammed into the railing. There was a deep purple one forming on my stomach from laying on my gun over his shoulder. 

I pointed the shower head toward the wall, leaving the water on for him, reached out to grab a towel, and wrapped the rough, too small piece of fabric around myself as best I could as I stepped out. It barely covered my ass if I held it high enough to cover the swell of my breasts, barely went all the way around my chest, and left a few inches of gap around my hips. I put the gap to the side so I wasn’t just shamelessly flashing him, but the minimalist feel of it left me feeling somehow more exposed, more vulnerable, than if I had just stepped out nude.

“You should shower.” I said to the man, now stripped out of his shoes and holster, leaning back against the sink outside the bathroom door as I held the too small towel around me as best I could, still shivering from the road and the cool shower. “Sorry I couldn’t cut it to make the whole trip.”

He blinked, confused. “Sweetheart…” It was Bucky now watching me. His pale eyes were again full of familiar affection and sadness. He stepped toward me, and there was nothing I wanted more than to wrap him around me and pretend my world hadn’t flipped on its head again, that he was real and he was my Bucky, not the cold operator I had spent the last hours with. Wait, my Bucky? Dammit…

I held up a hand. “Once you touch me I’m not going to be able to hold my shit together anymore.” He stopped, trying to read whatever it was he saw on my face. “Get in the shower, Bucky, and then come hold me,” I said, stepping past him to fill the small coffee pot on the vanity counter. “Fair warning, it never got hot worth a damn, but at least the water pressure is ok.”

His hand dropped, he nodded and went into the bathroom. I picked up the henley from the floor and fresh underwear from my bag, pulling them on.

I put the tee and another pair of loose shorts I had on the toilet seat under the towel I left for him. “Here’s something clean that should fit you, Buck.” 

I walked into the main room and dug two MREs from the bottom of the bag with my shaking hands. I set them up with their heater packs and made the sport drinks from each one, figuring we probably needed the hydration. I pulled back the duvet on the bed and the covers, inspecting for signs of bedbugs and gathered up the clothes. I stuffed some of them back in my pack, the rest I shook out and brushed off and set out to wear in the morning. By then the tiny two cup coffee pot had finished and I poured us each a cup, setting his next to his food.

The adrenaline was long gone, replaced by a hollowed out feeling and an ache that went all the way down to my bones. I swilled down the sport drink with some pre-emptive pain meds. I knew I’d feel like death when I woke up. I fixed my coffee with the dry creamer and sugar, his with sugar. I left the dried fruit and crackers with peanut butter for later and set my cookie on top of his.

I heard the water turn off and crawled into bed on the side farthest from the front door with one of the meal pouches, my coffee, and my phone. Bucky came out in the gray shorts and navy v-neck tee. It was a little embarrassing that I was big enough that the built super soldier could fit in my clothes, even if the brewery branded tee was tight in the arms and through the shoulders. He looked at the meal cooling on the small table.

“I know I can’t fight or keep up worth a damn, but I can at least make myself useful.” 

Then he looked at me leaning back against the headboard drinking the coffee, and back to the food. “Cookie, you don’t ha-”

I set the coffee down and picked up the foil food pouch. “Eat, Bucky. We can take a caffeine nap and get up in a few hours. Sorry I held us up.”

“Sweetheart…” He crawled onto the bed and up toward me until he was on all fours above me, caging me in with his body. He took the pouch and spork from my hands and set it on the side table looking at me like I was the comfort, and food, and all the good things I couldn’t touch in my brain at that moment.

I couldn’t meet his eyes. “Just eat and let’s get some sleep, Buck. Necessities first.”

He brought up his right hand to cup my face, rubbing his thumb lightly over my cheekbone until I met his eyes, all soft and full of worry. “This is a necessity.” He dipped his face down and kissed me, his mouth exploring mine tenderly. He pulled away to gently kiss every scratch and bruise on my face. “I’m so sorry.” His lips grazed my cheek to my ear and held my cheek to his as he spoke. “Sweetheart, I never wanted you to see that. I needed you safe, I had to go there to protect you. I never wanted to scare you.”

I traced the line of his cheek with my fingertips and when he pulled back I thumbed the dimple of his chin lightly. “I know, Buck. I trust you.” He exhaled roughly in relief and I nuzzled my face against his, noses caressing against each other. “What happened?”

“Sometimes when I’m on a mission, I kind of fall into it. The training, the calculation… It just comes and it makes it easier to do the job.” He closed his eyes, resting his forehead on mine. “If I was protecting an asset, if I was on a mission, I didn’t have to think about how terrified I was that you were there in the middle of it all.” He kissed me again. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” I pulled back and met his worried gaze. “Eat, and then come back and hold me, Bucky.”

He kissed me again before he backed away. “Okay.” He grabbed the other meal pouch and devoured it in minutes, washing it down with the sport drink and now cold coffee while I ate my own half-warm dinner. He crawled into bed while I checked messages and set an alarm on my phone. There weren’t any messages from the team yet. I sent out a text to the group: “B & C safe. Had to pull over. Rendezvous by PM.” Then I checked the feed and the news was covered with images of Tony’s Iron Legion attacking the Tower. Bucky finally made me put the phone down and pulled me down into the curve of his body. I winced as his prosthetic arm tightened over my stomach. He paused and I thought he was going to say something, but I snuggled down into his warmth and kissed the inside of his bicep where my head lay and he snugged his hips and legs in behind me with a sigh of relief as my shivering finally subsided while my body drank in the heat of his. 

I don’t know when I started crying, but he tightened his arms around me, hugging me close. I sobbed quietly, letting out the stress, as he nuzzled into my cheek, my hair, muttering soft, soothing words that gradually transitioned from English to Russian as I cried myself into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

I woke to the alarm I’d set with Bucky still wrapped around me, his face against my neck, breath warm against the back of my ear. “Hey,” he said softly, feeling me stir.

I reached out to my phone and turned off the alarm. “Hey,” I answered, feeling a little hoarse. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Some,” he lied, but I let it go. 

“We should probably get going.”

“We have time…” His lips grazed down my neck to kiss at the curve where my collar lay. 

My hand reached behind me into his hair at the base of his neck. “Bucky…” I breathed as his fingers dipped beneath the hem of my shirt, his metal hand splaying over the bare skin of my stomach. My back arched with a sigh of pleasure, pressing the curve of my ass into him, feeling him already hard behind me.

He growled my name into the curve of my neck, sending a shiver through me and his hand flexed against my stomach as he rolled his hips, grinding himself against me.

I tried to stifle a pained sound at the movement and he froze. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… Stomach hurts.”

He rose up and pushed the covers back, nudging my shoulder. “Let me see.”

I rolled toward my back, groaning as my body protested the movement, having gone stiff in the few hours of sleeping in a single position. He lifted my shirt to expose my stomach and made a pained hiss.

I looked down and the bruise on my stomach from the imprint of my gun handle had spread into a huge, lurid purple blotch on the right side of my stomach, filling a space as big as a saucer, spreading nearly navel to hip. I could also see dark, angry bruises down my legs and forearms, pretty sure my back looked similar. “Well, I guess that explains why my everything hurts,” I deadpanned.

“You told me it hurt… God, sweetheart,”  He was looking down at my body, my shirt rucked up under my breasts, taking in every bump and bruise, checking them with his fingertips. Under any other circumstances, I’m pretty sure having Bucky kneeling between my legs taking in every inch of me would have been hot as hell itself, but his eyes were so full of regret, his hair falling down around his face the way it used to a few months ago, like he was hiding. “I was a jerk last night, wasn’t I? I’m so sorry.”

“For a while,” I said softly. I struggled to a sitting position with a grimace, every inch of movement an exercise in will. He helped me and I looked up into his face. “But I know why you did, and I know why you felt you had to.” I reached up, smoothing his bed tousled hair back from his face. “We both got out, Bucky, and we saved a lot of people in the process.” I pulled his face down to me and kissed his forehead, then his nose, then his lips. “Everything else matters less than that.”

He rested his forehead against mine for a long moment. 

Finally I broke the quiet. “I don’t have a lot of gas in the tank today, so if we have a two hour bike ride ahead we should get moving, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded. Then, he kissed my forehead and moved away. He brought me the rest of the food pack I’d saved from last night with some pain killers from my bag. I took the pills and told him to eat the food.

“You saved it.”

“I saved it for you,” I retorted, rolling off the bed with a groan. “I don’t eat this early in general and you need like 7,000 calories a day to function. I don’t.”

“I’m fine, Cookie,” he answered stiffly.

“You’re not, you’re hungry.”

He was about to protest, but was interrupted by a loud growl from his stomach. I raised an eyebrow. He had the good grace to look defeated. “There’s some protein bars in the front side pocket of my pack. Eat a couple of those, too, please.” He gave me an indignant look. “Please, Bucky. Let me do the things I can.” He gave up on eye contact and nodded.

I checked my phone while I made the instant coffee I saved and got dressed. 

There was a message from Tony in the group chat: “Take Room 105. Glad ur alive.”

I also had one cryptic direct message from Clint: “Glad ur ok, CG. Look out for Thor’s pet snake.” 

“CG?” Bucky asked, as I handed him a cup, sitting beside him again with my own.

I chuckled, “Cookie-girl. Though, I’m more concerned with the second half of the message, since Thor does love snakes, but the only snake I know of in Norse lore is Jormungandr.” 

“Say that again.”

“What? Jormungandr?”

He leaned in and nipped my ear. I giggled, god help me, actually giggled. “Thor was working with me on my accent. I take it you liked it.”

“I did. You did a pretty good one.”

“Da?” I said it as like I’d heard Nat say the word in Russian as I could manage. “Maybe I should learn Russian then?”

He chuckled, nipping at the side of my neck. “You have to let me keep some things to myself, sweetheart.”

I laughed. “Fiiiine...”

Soon, and not without struggle on my part, we were ready to be back on the road and I sent the team an ETA. I tucked myself firmly into the warmth of Bucky’s back, intent to use him as my private windbreak and hot rock. Even so, by the time we reached the Compound, I was shivering uncontrollably, teeth chattering in the early autumn air. Bucky parked the bike and helped me down, and Steve met us at the door of what looked like an honest to god mansion.

He hugged us both, his million watt smile warming my heart, if not my body. “Gosh, Cookie, you’re freezing!” He exclaimed, as he took me immediately into a second hug.

“Yeah, I hadn’t winterized my go-bag yet. Wasn’t planning to hurtle down the highway in the brisk fall air on a stolen motorcycle.”

“I told you it wasn’t stolen,” Bucky protested.

“My motorcycle,” Steve offered.

“Ah, well that explains why Bucky knew the key,” I smirked.

Bucky snickered at the subtle innuendo and, God love him, Steve’s ears actually turned a little pink. They both knew the rumors around how close they were.

I rested my chin on his chest, smiling up at him. “Thanks for the lift, Steve.”

He kissed my forehead. “Let’s get you situated, and I’ll give you the tour.” He was still hugging me to his chest, I think to warm me up. I wasn’t complaining, Steve ran even hotter than Bucky, and it was a very nice chest.

“How about tomorrow, Steve? My body feels like it’s going to fully stop working if I don’t get some rest.” 

He looked up at Bucky who nodded. “She’s pretty roughed up, Stevie.” Something passed between them, and I had a moment to wonder about what it was like knowing someone so well and for so long that you could communicate with looks alone as much as they did. 

Steve looked back down at me, taking in the bumps and scratches he could see. “Do you need a doctor, Cookie?”

I shook my head, looking at Bucky. “It isn’t that bad.” He frowned at me. “I just need some sleep.” He started to protest. “Like two or three days worth,” I acquiesced with a chuckle. I looked up at Steve and rested my chin on his chest again with a smirk, trying to suppress the shivers. “Preferably in a toasty super soldier sandwich.”

He and Bucky shared another look, then he looked down at me and grinned. “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed my forehead and guided me in with his arm around my shoulders, mine around his waist. “Let’s show you your new room. I know Nat set some things up for you already, and I’m going into town later if you need anything else right away.” 

The room definitely had Tony and Pepper’s hands involved. The well-appointed kitchenette, the huge bed, the deep, jetted soaking tub and sizable shower stall. Even the couch was a large sectional, positioned under the large picture window, but everything was in that sterile, neutral-toned industrial style rich people seemed to prefer strongly. All straight, firm lines and too much beige. “Wow. It’s like Tony ordered everything in here ‘orgy-sized’.” I heard a choked sound behind me and turned to see the two men looking at me. 

Well, Steve was trying not to look at me, beet red across every inch of skin I could see. Bucky was definitely looking at me, but looked flushed in a very different way. I laughed. “Easy, boys. Nothing in here is getting test driven while I feel like I got hit by a truck.” I dropped my bag in the bedroom. “Well, except that tub. Think I’m gonna be in there until the lifeguard pulls me out.”

“Did you want company?” Bucky offered with a cocky smirk. 

Steve made that choked sound again and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Let’s get you set up, too, Buck!”

Bucky protested as he was dragged off by his friend.

“Don’t worry, Bucky,” I teased, “I’m sure you two will be back soon.” I saw the red on the back of Steve’s neck intensify again as he ushered Bucky out the door.

Nat really did set me up. There were clothes in the drawers and closet, most of them comfortable, but definitely a few Nat picks in there, and my hair care was already lined up in the bathroom. I asked JARVIS for some music out of habit, but got no answer. Maybe Tony just hadn’t brought him to the Compound yet? I remembered how I hadn’t heard him answer after the attack started last night either. I didn’t want to think JARVIS had been driving the Iron Legion, didn’t want to think he’d really gone Skynet, and what else that might mean.

I wasted no time in getting to the bathroom to clean up. I stopped in front of the mirror, but once I saw the lurid, deep purple bruising covering most of my body, I forewent the hot bath, knowing it was too early for a soak. Heat less than 24hrs in the healing process could just restart the bleeding, even though my muscles cried out for a hot tub. And I wouldn’t entertain a cold bath when I was just starting to get warm from the ride. I took a warm shower, wrapped my hair and walked back to the bedroom. As I was pulling out sleep shorts and a tank I heard a light gasp behind me.

I heard a fervent curse in Russian and spun to see Nat looking at me through the doorway.

“You forget how to knock, Nat?” I asked, propping a hand on one cocked hip. Not like it was the first time she’d seen me nude.

“You know better,” she quipped as I bent stiffly to pull on underwear. “ Soldat and Steve said you were a mess, but this is more than I expected. You look half beat to death.”

“Gee, thanks, Natasha, glad to see you alive, too,” I snarked, but she grinned back at me. “It was a rough night, you know? So, are you just here to ogle me and my luscious technicolor curves or are you collecting me for the ‘Beat Tony to Death Party’?”

“No, but I already had my turn. I put in a good word for you.”

“Was that word ‘Told you so’? And did you say it with your fist in his face?”

She laughed. “Oh, he knew it was from you. And we are practically lined up for the privilege. I might have to make sure Steve doesn’t kill him.”

“Good.” I finished dressing and padded out to the living room. “Thanks for having my room set up, Nat.”

She smiled. “Not a problem.” She sat down on the couch as I came in.

“So, what else are you here for?”

“I can’t just come to check on you?”

I gave her a flat look.

“That’s fair, I guess.” She looked uncomfortable. In my experience, there was only one kind of conversation that made Nat this unsettled.

“Bruce? Y’all finally make a move?”

She looked just a little surprised.

“He’s not subtle. Neither are you, if someone knows you. Besides, I was mostly just a safe space for testing boundaries, since Hulk likes me.” I flopped next to her, sinking into the couch with a groan. “Holy Shit… I’m gonna need a crane to get me back out of this thing…” 

She smirked. “It is a good couch. Clint helped Tony pick it.”

“I’ll have to thank him.” I sat up. “So, you and Bruce a thing now?”

“I think so.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“You are?”

“Of course, I told him to. I’m glad Bruce felt confident enough to make a move. I expect you’ll be keeping him busy now. Limber up, my girl, cuz you are in for it.”

“I will never get over how easy going you are about this stuff.”

I shrugged. “I just hope Hulk still comes to see me now and then. I would miss those giant cuddles.”

“So, what about you and Barnes ? ”

“What about Bucky?”

She gave me an incredulous look. “Are you seriously still unaware how gone that man is on you? If you knew the half of what he says to you when he falls into Russian and thinks Clint and I can’t tell…”

“As I’ve said before, I assume if he was ready for me to know, he would tell me in English.”

“Tell me you’ve at least let him kiss you. Since you made up, I mean.” She gave me a conspiratorial smirk. “He’s good at it. And a few other things...”

I raised an eyebrow. “I always wondered if you two had history. Couple hotties, running in the same circles and all, it’s not surprising.”

She shrugged, “Ancient history. I doubt he even remembers, no telling how many times he’s been wiped since then. He deserves a new life.” Then she looked at me and leaned in. “So…”

I shook my head, laughing. “If I had, I wouldn’t kiss and tell.”

She threw her hands in the air. “Why are you like this?!”

“Because I respect the privacy of those close to me, Natasha. If people want to be public, then they are.” Then, I gave her an absolutely shit-eating grin. “But I won’t undersell how adorable it is when you’re this frustrated for gossip.” She shot me her most playfully perturbed look. “Now,” I said settling in, “I wanna know what the fuck actually happened last night.”

She finished filling me in on Ultron and the general nonsense Tony and Bruce had gotten us all into some time later, and I had one more question. “So, Clint sent me a weird message. Something about Thor having a pet snake I need to watch for? What, does he not know to keep a weight on the terrarium lid?” 

She gave me a look I could not read, but didn’t like. “Nat,” I ground out in warning, “this better not turn into an unpleasant surprise for me later.”

Just then, Steve and Bucky came back with a stack of pizza boxes along with beer and wine and my stomach growled. Both of them were looking extremely comfortable in sweats and tee shirts. Bucky looking soft and as relaxed as I ever saw him around other people, and Steve somehow still managing to look prim.

Steve looked me over in my tank and shorts. “Geez, Cookie, you look like you got pushed down the stairs.”

“Probably because I did. I also got squished under a door, thrown into the railing, and got manhandled by a super soldier. And that was just in the stairwell.” All three of them winced, though Bucky for a different reason. “Now, I assume you two gents are here to share?”

Steve smiled and set the boxes down on the coffee table, but Bucky gave me a wicked smirk.

“The food,” I chuckled, catching his dirty thought, then muttering, “Goddamn fool.”

He set the beer down next to the pizza and pressed the cold wine bottle against a particularly big bruise on my thigh as he leaned down over me. “I am,” he whispered and gave me a kiss on the head. “On both counts.” 

I could see Nat grinning in my periphery. I shrugged, smirking back at her.

I made to get up, but it felt like the couch had swallowed me while Nat and I talked. Bucky took my hands with a smirk and helped me up. I went for more pain meds and a glass of water and plates. “Nat, are you staying for movies and pizza?”

I heard her get up behind me. “No, I need to get to work. Steve, I’ll hold down the fort.” He started to protest, but she waved him off. “Enjoy the evening, it may be the last one we get for a while.”

He gave her a serious look, looked at me, and then looked back to Nat and gave a nod. “Thanks.”

She smiled, “Don’t mention it.” She left, giving me a wink. “Glad you’re okay, Cookie.” I waved back.

“Well, gentlemen,” I said after the door closed, “What’s the plan?” I set the plates down next to the pizzas.

“A movie, and then getting this tired Cookie to bed for some well-earned rest and recovery,” Steve answered.

I grinned at him. “Amazing. What are we watching?”

“Still haven’t done ‘space wizards’,” suggested Bucky.

“Star Wars, it is. Hey, JARVIS can-” I stopped. “Wait… Steve, did something happen to JARVIS?” 

“He’s gone. Nat filled you in?” I nodded and he continued. “Ultron overpowered him. Tony’s been sorting through alternative systems.”

“Jesus… Okay.” I shook my head, feeling genuinely a little sad. “Rest in power, best assistant ever… Okay, Star Wars.”

Steve had the remote. “Episode 1.”

“No! A New Hope!”

“You wanna start in the middle?”

“Trust me.”

Chapter Text

We ate, and by the time Luke was talking about the size of womprats, I was laying with my head on Steve’s thigh. He had taken my hair wrap off and his fingers toyed with my slightly damp curls spread out over his lap while his other hand played along my cheek and neck. My feet were in Bucky’s lap where he rubbed them gently and his fingers idled along my shins and calves. As the movie wrapped, Bucky’s touch grew firmer, kneading into my arches and massaging my calves until I was closing my eyes in bliss. “Dammit, Bucky, how are you so good at that?”

I heard his voice, a little smug. “Just one of my many talents, sweetheart.” 

Then, I felt Steve’s fingers burrow into my hair, calloused fingertips dragging and massaging along my scalp and I melted. “Steve, you don’t have to…” then I had to stifle a moan because I didn’t know which of them was doing a better job.

He chuckled. “I know, but I’ve wanted to do this for a while.”

“Do what?”

“Take care of you.” I went still under their hands, but he continued. “You’re always in charge of whatever you can manage, Cookie. Handling things. I know what that’s like, the need to feel like you have control over something.” I knew the subtext he didn’t say about wanting that because you feel weak, powerless. He used to be the little guy, after all. “I want to help you feel as relaxed as you make me feel.”

“Both of us.” I heard Bucky’s voice. “You take care of every person around you. Even yesterday, you evacuated people instead of running like I told you. It was infuriating to see you over and over, when all I wanted was for you to get clear. Pulling that alarm, looking for people, pushing them out of hiding, rerouting the crowd. Like you didn’t even care about your own safety.”

“It was just practical, Bucky. I can’t move fast enough to not get caught in the press. Everyone would pass me up or run me over anyway. If I can’t get out of the way quickly, I might as well help others who can.”

“I know it’s not just that,” he continued. “Last night, this morning,” his hands stilled and his voice went soft. “You talked more than once about being useful. It’s like you feel the need to make up for your disability. Like you aren’t already the kindest and bravest person I know.”

I knew he was right, but he was getting too close to something I still couldn’t wrestle with. What I didn’t want to address. “That’s a big swing in present company, Bucky,” I quipped.

Steve wouldn’t let me deflect. “We all know that’s how you got injured to start with. You’ve never been one to think of yourself first.”

I laughed ruefully, rubbing my hands over my face. I sat up, away from their hands because I had to. “I wish that were true.”

“What do you mean?” I felt Steve shifting closer on my left.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, head down, thinking for a long minute. “Do you remember the night I went off on Tony?”

“Which time?” Steve chuckled.

My lips quirked. “The time when I quit. That night we all spent together.”

“Of course.” Steve answered, like it had more weight than I gave it.

“Do you remember what I said about why I took the job?”

“About taking Tony’s money,” Steve said.

“About JARVIS,” Bucky said, “and there was something else. ‘If you were really really lucky…’ but you stopped yourself.”

I looked at him. “I didn’t think anyone noticed that. Even Natasha didn’t ask.” Damn super soldier memory.

His lips quirked. “I notice things about people.”

I huffed and gave him a sad smile. “If I’m really, really lucky…” I started, feeling a shadow of the rage and grief I felt in that moment, “when a building or spaceship falls on me , or I get casually killed by some villain to make a point, a normal person like me will be remembered enough to matter to someone.” Hot tears filled my eyes, and I palmed them away. “Someone who is strong enough to actually do something about it.” Bucky took my hand and I refused to look at him. “I’m selfish as anyone.” I laughed and turned to look at him, my back to Steve, and it sounded like half a sob. “Just someone who made a move to touch power I won’t ever have because I couldn’t do anything that day, and I’m even more useless now. I don’t deserve those kinds of compliments.” 

I was babbling now, the words tumbling over themselves as I finally looked at Bucky, shaking his head, holding my hands and kissing my knuckles over and over as my eyes brimmed with tears. “And then I got to know all of the Avengers, and you’re all such caring people who have been through even more than me.” I looked up at Steve as he pulled me up across his lap and wrapped his arms around my waist. “And I got to be friends with you, and came to love each and every one of you.” I sniffed and huffed out a laugh, “I even kind of like Tony, that absolute jerk, even though he’s probably gonna get us all killed someday, and then you brought Bucky home,” I looked at Bucky, still watching me and rubbing over my knuckles with his thumbs, “and I love him now, too, and I don’t want you to think that isn’t genuine, that it was just a job or a ploy. I meant everything I ever did or said-” Bucky scooted closer and brought my knuckles to his lips again.

“Oh, Cookie, no.” Steve had his arms around me, nuzzling my cheek. “No, we would never think that, darlin’.” I noticed how the Brooklyn came out in the new endearment, squashing the ‘r’ sound. He shushed into my hair as he held me against his chest. “I heard the recording. What you said to Fury that night. About Buck. About all of us. It was the same thing you ever said about any of us. The same thing you tried to tell us about Hulk. We know.”

“I just hoped someone would give a shit… would eventually think I mattered, too. I don’t want… Please don’t hate me… I just don’t want to be forgotten when I get left behind…” I was fully dissolved into sobs now, hot tears running down my face.

“Cookie, you matter to us.” Bucky said softly held both my hands in his metal one, his flesh hand holding the back of my neck, pressing my forehead to his. “Sweetheart, nobody is leavin’ you behind.” He kissed my forehead. “Least of all us.” He kissed my nose. “Least of all me.” He pressed his lips to mine, gentle but insistent in his intent to still my words, my doubts. 

“Everyone leaves, Bucky, don’t make promises nobody can keep,” I whispered with a sniff as I pulled my hands away to wipe my face.

He took my face in hands, roughly, pressing it to his own, his voice a fierce growl. “I would never willingly leave you behind, sweetheart. If I ever have to, I will find you. Just like last night.” He kissed me again, now intent on taking the very breath from my body and the thoughts from my mind, and a helpless whine escaped me before meeting him just as desperately. My hands buried themselves in Bucky’s hair, nails dragging against his scalp until he moaned into me. When we came up for air, we were both panting. He looked half wrecked, pupils blown, eyelids heavy, lips beestung. One of his hands was on the back of the couch by Steve’s shoulder, the other resting on his friend’s knee to support himself as he knelt to lean over me. I gave Bucky another light kiss and he pulled away. 

“Sorry, Steve, I guess you didn’t sign on to be in the middle of that.” I turned to look at him and stilled at his expression. Steve looked nearly as worked up, face flushed, lips parted. Almost like… “Steve? Are… were you enjoying that?”

“I…” He glanced at Bucky and nodded, his voice rough. “I was.”

I looked back at Bucky. “Have you two done something like this before? The two of you with someone else?”

He cupped my jaw in his right hand and thumbed my lower lip. “There’s never been someone either of us were serious about, but we’ve had a threesome or two.”

“And you would be okay with it. With me.”

He nodded again. “I absolutely am.” He had a look in his eye like he was picturing something that absolutely wasn’t happening tonight.

I looked back at Steve. “Steve,” I put a hand on his chest, “what about you? What do you want?”

He leaned into me, squeezing me gently. “I want to know what you want, darlin’. I want you to feel better, and I know you’re injured. What are you okay with?”

I swallowed. Was I really contemplating this? I liked Steve, and I knew he liked me. Not in the same way as Bucky, but we were comfortable and trusted each other. If we didn’t, he would never have let me see this side of him tonight. I wasn’t even sure what Bucky and I were at this point. More than friends, and I knew he wanted me (gods knew why ) but it wasn’t like we’d talked about it in the last several days since we’d made up. I didn’t know what it meant that they had decided to be so vulnerable, or so forward, with me. Maybe they were matching the vulnerability of my own confession. 

But, this was one of those beautiful moments, wasn’t it? And, it stirred something in me. Something protective that saw them as my people and something fierce that saw the power I held in that moment and wanted to savor it like fine wine.

“There is something I’ve always wanted to do with you, Steve.”

He licked his lips. “Tell me.”

I was slightly higher than him from my perch in his lap and he met my gaze with those stunning cerulean eyes. “You always seem so perfect. So put together and proper.” I traced his clean shaven jawline with my fingertip. “Steve Rogers, America’s golden boy, always so in control.” I shifted until I straddled his lap with his help, his hands resting on my waist. “Only man alive who manages to look as starched in sweats and a compression tee as his mess dress.” Bucky chuckled.

My voice dropped, meeting his eyes again. “It makes me crazy. I’ve wanted to see under that perfectly maintained composure of yours damn near since we met.” I growled, “I want to see you wrecked , Captain Rogers.” I leaned down until my face was a breath away, my hands on the back of the couch to either side of his head, looking down at him. “I want my hands in your hair and my mouth on yours until you are absolutely ruined,” my face lowered until my mouth was only a breath away from his, “until it’s only Stevie left, melting under my touch.”

He looked halfway there as he swallowed roughly and croaked, “Please, Cookie.” I heard Bucky’s breath go harsh beside us, but my eyes were only for the man below me, though the corner of my mouth quirked just a little. I was learning so much about these two tonight.

I didn’t kiss him immediately. I rose up to kneel on top of his thighs, removing the touch of me from his lap. I brought one hand to his cheek, thumb grazing his sculpted cheekbone, and he leaned a little into my touch. My fingers came down to trace the square angle of his jaw, caressing down the line of his throat to rest on his broad chest. First one side, then the other as I licked and gently bit my lower lip, thinking about how this beautiful man, both of them, would just offer themselves to me. Take whatever I was willing to offer in this moment. I’d never felt so powerful, it was intoxicating. Then both hands moved back up the sides of his neck to cup his face, and I finally brought his mouth up to meet mine.

I pressed gentle lips to his, stroking his cheeks with my thumbs, and he sighed into me, wrapping his arms around my waist. Gradually, I deepened the kiss, mouthing his lips, top and bottom. Sucking his bottom lip lightly, grazing it with the tip of my tongue or the barest shadow of teeth until he whimpered for more. I slid my hands up into his hair, carding my nails over his scalp. He moaned softly for me, opening, and I tilted his head a little to slot my mouth perfectly on his. Then, I took his mouth, gliding my tongue over his as my fingers tightened in his hair.

Steve was vocal, his sounds became more insistent as I slowly took him apart with my mouth. My hands ran through his hair, listening to how much he liked my nails running back from his temples, the perfect pressure of my grip in his hair to make him groan rather than growl, how he met my ravishing tongue with equal abandon. When I felt his hands move, running down my legs to the backs of my knees, ready to pull me down into his lap, I broke the kiss off abruptly.

His breath hitched and he tried to follow me before he even opened his eyes, groaning at the sudden loss of me as I looked down at his delightfully tousled hair and swollen lips. His chest heaved under my hands as he looked up at me from hooded eyes, blown out to nearly black. I know my smile was proud, maybe even a little smug as he came back from the moment. 

“I think you met the brief, Cookie,” Bucky snarked. 

I smirked at him. He licked his lips looking up at me. I glanced down. Bucky seemed to enjoy watching me kiss his bestie just as much. “In more ways than one from the look of you, Sarge.” 

He surged up, faster than I thought possible, to palm the back of my head and pull me into a bruising kiss. Then, he pulled back with a rough breath. “Need to stop or we’re not going to.” 

“Just from some kissing, Bucky?” I teased. “All those dates and you’re still this pent up?”

The sound that came out of him was low and guttural, nearly feral. “Do you even know what you do to me?  Stevie, tell me I’m not the only one who can smell her, hear her heart. How turned on she is from getting you all hot and bothered.” Bucky’s lips drifted down my neck. 

Steve sat up straight, bringing his lips to my collarbone on the other side. “O‘course I can.” His hands smoothed up my thighs, just to the edge of the sleep shorts and back down. He was a gentleman, after all. “Must be soaked, darlin’. Can practically taste you from here.” Then again, maybe Ste vie was less of a gentleman than I thought.

Damn super soldier senses. “Sorry to get y’all so worked up when I’m one giant walking bruise.”

Steve chuckled against my neck. “I don’t think you are sorry, darlin.”

Bucky looked up at me with a cheshire grin. “She absolutely is not.”

I smirked. “I am a little. I understand if anyone needs to take care of something before bed.”

They looked at each other.

I looked down at them regarding each other. “Oh, or... If you are staying, that is. If I ruined everything, I get that, too.” I started to get off Steve’s lap, but his hands on my thighs held me in place.

“Absolutely not.” the blond soldier said. “I have to go tomorrow, and I’m going to enjoy every second of this time with you.” He reached up and touched my cheek gently. “Also, this is very new, for all of us, and we probably shouldn’t move quite that fast anyway.”

“I certainly learned a few new things about you today, Stevie.”

“I have to say, I wasn’t expecting all that,” he said, blushing a little.

“What about you, Bucky?”

“I’m staying here, with you, sweetheart. I have all the time in the world, but if my best girl wants to sleep squished between two old soldiers, then that’s what she gets.”

“I meant whatever is happening between the three of us.”

“Well, for now what is happening,” he got up and turned off the TV, “is we are going to bed.” He reached down his hand to me and both of them helped me off Steve’s lap. 

I brushed my teeth and came out of the bathroom, tucking my hair into a new bonnet I found in the bathroom drawer, to find two gorgeous men, blond and brunette, waiting for me, Steve still in tee shirt and sweats sitting on the end of the bed, Bucky leaning against the dresser in just his boxer briefs, leaving little to the imagination.

I gave him what he wanted and let my eyes rake appreciatively from the scattering of hair across his broad chest and down his sculpted abs, past the still slightly hard shape of the bulge in his snug navy boxer briefs and down his thick, muscular legs before coming back to his eyes. “Interesting fashion choice for a man not getting laid tonight, Bucky.”

He grinned. “You teased us, doll. I think it’s fair.”

“First of all, that wasn’t me teasing. You both asked for or started it. Second, bold of you to assume your bare skin against me is going to bother me more than you.”

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s holding up under torture.”

I winced. “Too soon, Bucky.”

“Don’t I get to decide that?”

“I agree with Cookie, Buck.”

“See?” I gave him a cocky grin. “And you call me a mood killer.” I walked over to Steve, wrapping my arms around his neck. “How do you want to do this, Stevie? You’re leaving in the morning, so I think you should get dibs.”

He looked about to say something, looked at Bucky and back to me, and then stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

He looked a little embarrassed.

I scrutinized him a moment. “Stevie,” I stroked back his hair as I looked down at him and his eyes fluttered closed. “Would you like to be in the middle?”

His eyes snapped open and he looked at me like I’d read his mind and he was uncomfortable about it, but he quickly recovered. “No, you were promised a super soldier sandwich and that’s what you’ll get.” He took my hands and kissed my knuckles with his parted lips. “Gonna take care of you tonight, beauty.”

I felt my face get hot under his gaze. I didn’t know why that new endearment tickled my ears like it did, but the word falling from his lips absolutely did. “Isn’t she adorable when she gets flustered?” Bucky said at his shoulder before climbing on the bed, giving me a lovely view of his backside and thighs as I frowned at him.

“She is,” Steve said, pulling my attention back to him. “I’ll have to try it more often.” He pulled me down and gave me a gentle kiss before guiding me onto the bed, into Bucky’s arms and settling behind me.

I settled against Bucky’s chest, letting Steve spoon me from behind, face against the back of my neck, arm wrapped around my waist. 

My fingers played and lightly scratched against the hair over Bucky’s sternum. He huffed. “See? Teasing…” he murmured.

“I pet you just like this all the time when you have a shirt on.” I tsked, “Are you so worked up that some casual cuddling qualifies as teasing, Buck?” I lifted my head to look at him. 

His eyes were closed. “No. And don’t even think about it.”

I laid my chin back down, smiling mischievously against his chest. My fingers started drifting down the center line of his body and he caught my hand at the top of his abs, pressing it back to his chest. “What’s wrong, Sarge? It just seems like you maybe forgot what teasing is like. Makes me wonder what else you’ve forgotten at your age.” I grazed my teeth lightly against his pec.

He flinched. “If you don’t settle down to sleep you’ll see what I haven’t forgotten,” he growled, “because I’m gonna fuck you senseless, woman, injured or not.”

I laughed. “Language, Bucky! Think of Stevie’s delicate ears.”

Steve chuckled against my back. “Knock it off, you two.”

“Yeah, yeah, Cap.” I moved my hand to stroke Steve’s arm around my waist instead, and settled in with a contented sigh. It barely took a minute for the weight of the last 24hrs to catch up, and sleep to hover like the leather and sage smelling warmth surrounding me. My breath deepened and slowed, and I felt the two men follow my lead, as they each seemed to whenever they slept with me, until I felt them each twitch and drop off to sleep with me following soon after.

Chapter Text

I stirred when I felt Steve wake, and rolled over stiffly as I felt him pulling away. “Stevie…” I said in a groggy whisper.

He paused and smiled down at me. “Hey, Cookie, g’mornin’,” he whispered warmly in return.

“Nooo… Not yet.” I groaned softly. I reached up and entwined my fingers behind his neck, pulling him back down to me. “No fair always leaving while I’m asleep, Stevie.”

He chuckled, letting me pull him down on top of me into a hug. “I have to go, darlin’.” He nuzzled against my neck.

“I know,” I whispered. “Always a world to save. I just wanted a few minutes before you do.”

He smiled and his lips moved in slow kisses along my throat. “I think I can find a minute.” His hand drifted down to my waist as he came back up to kiss me, slow and deep, enveloping me with his arms, cradling my head. My hands stroked his chest and neck, playing in the hair at his nape.

When he pulled away, he looked as kiss drunk as I felt. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of how good you feel in my arms, Cookie.”

I smiled up at him. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to you wanting to hold me like this, Stevie.”

“Then, I have a new mission. To hold you so much it feels strange when I’m not.”

I chuckled softly. “Then, I’ll look forward to you finishing this mission so you can start that one.” I kissed him again, just as slow and deep as the first, like I could make sure he still tasted me on his tongue for days. We finally broke the kiss and he gave me a few reluctant pecks on the mouth before pulling away.

I watched him leave. Always a good view. Then, I started moving to get up to go to the bathroom and was reminded why they say the day after a marathon isn’t the worst. It’s the second day. I could barely move, my legs and torso were so sore and stiff. I tried to stay quiet, but a little groan escaped me as I climbed back on the bed and I looked up to see Bucky already turned toward me, watching me with his soft gray eyes. “Hey, Buck.”

“Feeling worse today, sweetheart?”

I nodded.

“I’m sorry. C’mere.” He held his arms out to me and once he could reach me he pulled me into the curve of his body. “It’s okay, you have nowhere to be.”

I sighed into him and he met my sigh with his own as I snuggled into him. “How do you fit so perfect right here, sweetheart?” He kissed me in the hollow behind my ear. “Like I was meant to hold you.”

I chuckled. “Goddamn fool.”

“I am,” he answered as fervently as he did the first time he ever said it to me. “Your fool.” Only he didn’t whisper it. He said it with a heat and fervor as his teeth grazed the shell of my ear and then his lips trailed down my neck.

I turned in his arms so I could look at him face-to-face. “Bucky, please don’t say that.” I kissed him, so he didn’t take my words as a rejection. “Especially after everything you’ve been through. You don’t belong to anyone. You’re absolutely one of my people, and I love you d-”

He took my hand from his face, holding it against his heart. “I know what you’re saying. But all I hear, all I want to hear right now, is that you love me.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed my fingertips. “Because I love you, I think for longer than I understood that’s what I was feeling. I want to be with you.” He kissed his way down to my palm, eyes never leaving mine. “Whether that involves other people or not, I understand I have my own place in your heart.” His lips touched my wrist. He cupped my palm to his face. “I am your fool. Because I couldn’t imagine giving… trusting myself to anyone else.” 

“Bucky…” I didn’t know what to say.

He rolled with me until I was on my back, one knee between mine. He hovered above me, propped on his forearms on either side of my head. “All those dates? Even the ones I was attracted to?” His head dipped and his lips grazed my ear. “I wanted to feel something with someone, sometimes I did, but all I could think was how something was missing. You, and all your thoughtful kindness, and humor, and honesty, and courage, and gentleness. I managed to find someone with space for me, the person I am now with all the shit, and I tried so hard to push you away.”

“I knew you were punishing yourself, Buck. I’m glad you came back. I missed you so much.” 

He looked down at me with those sad eyes, full of regret. My hand drifted down his neck and over his shoulder, fingers tracing the scars where metal met flesh. My other hand buried itself in the back of his hair, and I leaned up and kissed him, softly, eagerly, like I could make him understand that I accepted him, that I’d forgiven him. Like I could pour my love into him. Because I did love him. I loved his gentleness and how he tried to hide it from everyone but me. I loved that gruff, grumpy armor he wore when he interacted with others and how I could peek inside it when his eyes met mine and how it sloughed off, falling away like a cloak the second we were alone leaving him all cuddles and soft gazes. I loved how he was a little nerdy about space, and was happier curled up with me reading a new sci-fi book than saving the world. I loved his snarky humor, all his different smiles, and the way he laughed, and the way his big, beautiful eyes always told me what he was feeling even when he tried not to. 

A sound like a whimper crossed his lips as I kissed him. I let my hand drift across his chest and down his stomach. The muscles flinched, like he was nervous, and I splayed my hand over his side. His hand drifted down my side and under my shirt, his touch gentle, tentative against my skin, like he was afraid I would tell him to stop any moment. After all the times he had touched me confidently before, I couldn’t stand that from him now and I reached down to slide his hand up my stomach to my breast. “Buck, please, just touch me.” 

__The Smut Starts Here!__

He moaned into me, and it was like I flipped a switch. His hand adjusted and then my shirt was rucked up over my breasts and his hands and mouth were on them, mounding them in his palms, licking, kissing, sucking over the globes of them, teasing the nipples with his thumbs until they were hard and pebbled and I was panting and arching beneath him. “God, I’ve wanted to touch your tits forever…”

He helped me lift up enough to drag my shirt over my head and paused to stare down at me. A man looking at me with eyes full of lust often made me feel insignificant, objectified, even repulsed. Bucky’s eyes felt like a plea, like he was begging me to see how much he needed me, to know his feelings for me, willing me to know he wanted all of me, not only my body. I’d never felt someone put heat into their eyes the way he could, like his gaze could make me internally combust just from his feelings for me. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed.

He leaned down and kissed me again, and the slide of his bare torso against mine for the first time made me moan and shiver beneath him. He drank the sounds I made as he kissed me. He moved his other knee between mine, sliding his hand down my scarred leg to hitch it over his hip then sliding under to cup my ass and rolled his hips to grind the hard bulge of him against my core. 

I mewled, hips grinding with him, capturing his rhythm like it was a dance we’d done a hundred times. My nails drug against his scalp and down across his shoulders and he growled, changing the angle of his grind so deliciously my fingers dug into his biceps. “Buck! Ah… Don’t stop!”

“Never… Fuck, sweetheart… Not even touching me… Not even inside you and you feel so good.” He groaned, burying his face against my neck. “Shit, doll, I could come like this… what you do to me.” His movement got more intense and it felt like I was melting from the inside. “The sounds you make… better than I dreamed.” I keened, hips rolling with his, locked into the dance he led above me, the feel of him against my skin, surrounded by his scent, his warmth, the movement of him making me forget to care about the bone deep ache in my body. “That’s it…” He panted against my ear, “Please, let me take care of you, sweetheart. Want it so bad. Just let go for me… I’ve got you.”

The orgasm broke over me in a wave like molten honey, sloughing away the pain and stiffness in a wash of euphoria, and he ate the low moan from my lips as he slowed his hips, working me through it. He sat up, kneeling between my legs, dragging his fingers down my body to my waistband. I bit my lip at the darker patch of wet on his underwear, evidence of just how aroused we both were. He kissed the inside of my knee, the question in his eyes.

I nodded, and he grinned like I’d given him a gift, pulling my sleep shorts and underwear, the damp drag of fabric along the insides of my thighs almost embarrassing. He pushed my knees apart and smoldered down at me fully naked for the first time until I could feel the blush creeping up my body. “So goddamn beautiful…” 

“Buck,” I groaned. I tried to pull my knees together but he planted his firm body between them, then he leaned down to gently kiss the intense bruise on my stomach. Another apology, another moment of adoration too intense for a very ordinary person like me. “C’mon, I look a complete wreck…”

“Don’t talk about my brave girl like that,” he said firmly. His right hand ran up the centerline of my body, between my breasts and up my neck to cup my face, his thumb stroking my lower lip. “To me, you’re perfect.” He leaned down and kissed me again, hands exploring the softness of my body reverently. “Everything I never even hoped for.”

He caressed my legs with hands and mouth, telling me he loved them, how they felt so soft and lovely wrapped around his waist and in his hands. He worshiped his way up, settling his shoulders between my thighs, where he sucked and bit a hickey at the apex that made me cry out as he slid his metal hand under my ass and up over my hip to hold me in place. The other hand came up to grope my breast, teasing the nipple. Then his gorgeous eyes rolled up to meet mine, his mouth met my dripping pussy and I forgot how to think.

He gave oral like he kissed, passionately and thoroughly, lips and tongue working through my folds and over my clit, licking, kissing and sucking. The wet, sloppy noises would have been mortifying if he hadn’t been making sounds like he was having the best meal of his life. My thighs shook with the effort of keeping them open, gasping and moaning with every electric flick of his tongue, my hands clenching in the pillow above my head while he devoured me. “God, Buck…”

His hand traveled down from my breast and suddenly he was pushing two fingers against my entrance, sinking them in slowly but easily. “Wanted you like this for so long. You taste so good, baby.” He worked his fingers in me as I panted at the feeling. Suddenly, his fingers brushed my sweet spot and I gasped. Then his mouth was on me again, rolling my clit with his tongue as his fingers crooked right into that perfect spot.

My hands shot to his hair as my back arched. “Fuck! James!” He was relentless, sucking my clit between his lips and lathing it with the tip of his tongue at the same time he worked his fingertips against that perfect spot and in less than a minute I came harder than I think I’d ever come in my life. I screamed in pleasure, my thighs clamping around his head with an audible clap, fingers clutched in his hair, stomach clenching so hard I did a full crunch toward him before falling back onto the bed, writhing and gasping as he worked me through it. 

“Even better than I imagined,” he purred as my body finally stilled and he pulled away.  

I looked up at him again, licking my lips, trying to focus. “You imagined killing me?” I panted.

He chuckled. “Every damn day, beautiful.” He was kneeling between my knees, licking his fingers clean with a smile like the cat who just got the cream. 

I laughed breathily. Dear god, this man might actually kill me. I slid one foot up his thigh, nudging the hem of his boxers. “I need these gone, Sarge. Now.”

He smirked. “Yes, ma’am.” He slid off the end of the bed and peeled the damp boxer briefs down, grunting as his cock sprang free and then he was kneeling between my knees again in all his glory. 

I sat up taking him in, my eyes gliding over him sat back on his heels, dick twitching and precome gathering at the tip just under my gaze. I’d had an idea that he was big, and I wasn’t wrong. Upper average in length, but he was thick . I looked up at him. “May I touch you, Buck?”

“God, yes… Please...”

I reached out, not directly to his throbbing cock, but his hips, looking up, watching his face. He licked his lips, watching my hands drift down the outside of his muscular thighs and slowly up the inside. When I reached the top again, I caressed his balls, cupping them in my hand where they sat against his body, rolling them over my fingers and my name fell in a shuddering sigh from his lips. “Please, sweetheart…” 

My other hand wrapped around the base of his shaft and stroked up, my thumb gliding over the head at the top of the stroke, dragging the dripping bead of precum back down. His head fell back and his entire body shuddered as he cursed. I did it again, my touch firm enough to enjoy, but I knew not firm enough to satisfy him, and after several strokes he was panting, watching me like a man drowning, hips rocking into my fist. “Please, don’t tease me, sweetheart. Not now…”

“Have you been tested recently?” He seemed to be having trouble processing what I was asking. I stopped moving my hands and his eyes came back into focus after a moment. “I know you can’t get any infections, but is there any chance you could be carrying anything from someone else?”

He shook his head. “Always use a condom. Tested after the last mission, too.” He was looking at me like he didn’t dare to hope where this conversation was going. “Should I go find one?”

I shook my head and started stroking him again. “IUD.” He looked lost again. “Contraceptive implant.”

He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. “Are you asking me to…?” His breath was going ragged. He covered my hand over his shaft with his own, stopping my movement so he could focus on me.

I met his eyes with a knowing smile. I didn’t know when it happened, how the switch flipped in my brain, when I went from loving him to the way he could set me on fire with his eyes and his touch, when he went from a beautiful man who also meant the world to me to a man I wanted, but I wanted him. I wanted him in a way I hadn’t wanted anyone in years.  “I’m saying I’m comfortable without a condom, and I’m asking if you want to make love to me, James.”

He pushed my hands away and bent down to kiss me. I could still taste myself on his lips. “There is nothing I want more than that.” 

“How do you want me, love?” I breathed against his mouth.

The adoration in his eyes warmed my skin right down to my toes. He stroked my cheek gently. “Am I too soft for wanting missionary? I wanna feel close to you. Wanna see you.”

I smiled. “You are,” I kissed him gently, “but I love how soft you are for me.”

He kissed me back just as gently, then deepened it, hand cradling my neck as he guided me down onto my back. He dipped his fingers down to my folds and I caught his hand. “You were tight just around my fingers, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know how big you are, Buck. We both know I need gentle right now. If you think you can go slow, I want to feel it. I don’t want to wait for you anymore.” My lips grazed his throat. “Want you inside me, Buck.”

He shuddered. “God, how are you so perfect…” he asked fervently as he settled between my legs. He reached a hand under me to lift my hips a little and settled a pillow under me before he set his hands on my knees, spreading them wide and began dragging his cock through my wet folds, lubricating himself in my arousal. “So damn wet for me…” I watched his body roll over me, muscles of his torso moving in languid waves as he watched himself glide over me, the head of him teasing my clit with every pass until his head rolled back in bliss.

Finally, he lined himself up and began pushing against my entrance. Just the head felt like a stretch and my head fell back with a gasp, “James…” I whined. 

“Love the way you say my name…” Every exhale was a moan as he took inch by inch, withdrawing, pressing in again, holding for a moment and withdrawing again. He moved with painstaking care until sweat beaded on his brow as he fought to stay in control. “Fuck, doll…”

I looked down and he was only halfway there. I loved his care of me, but I had lost patience.  “Please, Buck, please just do it, I won’t break. Please, I need you.”

He looked at me, pulled nearly out, and then he looked down to the join of our bodies to watch as he slowly sunk himself to the hilt in one stroke. I dug my hands into the pillow above me and threw my head back with a ragged cry as he filled me impossibly. “Uhn… James … Fuck! ”

He watched me riding out that stinging stretch of him on the edge of burning pleasure and too much, his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to slow his breathing. His hands slid up to my breasts, rolling my nipples with his thumbs, grounding me with his touch. He leaned down over me, kissing my tits and then up my neck until I moaned, hips rolling against him and his breath hitched. “Okay, beautiful?” His words sounded patient, but his face looked wrecked, slack with need above me, his voice gravel in his throat. I nodded and pulled him down into a deep kiss.

He started working in a slow, deep rhythm that had both of us moaning as he made room for himself to move. “Fuck… You feel so good, Bucky…” 

He adjusted his hips and suddenly he was dragging the tip in shallow thrusts over exactly the place his fingers had found earlier. Soon I was writhing beneath him, wanton moans falling from my mouth. Pleasure wound tight at my core, my cunt quivering around him. His lips were at my ear, low and pleading, adding waves of goosebumps down my skin with the rough edge of his voice. “I’m not gonna last, baby. You feel too good. Come for me. I gotta feel you come on my cock, sweetheart.” 

He slipped his hand between us, thumb circling my clit and in seconds I was hurtling over the edge into ecstasy. I cried out for him, hands buried in his hair and he fell against me, kissing me. He didn’t pause to let me come down, driving himself deep. I pulled my knees up, taking him deeper as I shook and trembled through my orgasm. He drove deep as he could go, grinding deep and rolling his hips against me so his pubic bone rubbed my overstimulated clit perfectly and sent me over the edge again, keening into his mouth. 

He took a fast, deep pace, chasing his own release, eyes closed in concentration. “Are you- are you sure,” he panted, quickly losing his rhythm. “C- can I-?” 

“God, yes, love. Come in me, please .” I pulled him down and kissed him breathlessly, hands still buried in his hair. “Look at me, James,” I panted. I held his gaze and in a handful of thrusts with a bone deep groan he buried himself deep and came, gaze locked on mine as I watched those beautiful eyes drown in his pleasure, in me. He settled on his forearms over me, kissing me again. Then he fitted his knees up to either side of my hips to support his weight over me as we held each other, relearning how to breathe.

We stayed there a while, him buried in me and wrapped around me, just touching each other. I caressed his back and sides, fingers dragging along his spine or petting and stroking his hair. He would nuzzle my cheek, or let his hands idle along my sides and legs or the outer curve of my breasts. We luxuriated in touch and the feel of skin-on-skin for a long time before he kissed me gently and moved away. A little whine rose in the back of my throat as his warmth left me and the air hit the drying sweat of my skin and the now spreading slick between my legs. 

He groaned as he slipped from my body, still half-hard and looked down at me for a long moment, spread wide under him. His gaze was so intense on my sex it was starting to make me self-conscious before he moaned softly as his fingers dipped to my slit, dragging and pushing our collective release back inside me, making my breath catch. He raised his fingers up to his mouth and sucked them clean. “I could stay here forever.” He kissed the inside of my knee while he stroked gently over the deep bruise on my lower belly. “But let’s get you cleaned up and back to bed before I forget myself.”

I nodded and rolled toward the edge of the bed, wincing. The stiffness washed away by earlier waves of pleasure came back with a vengeance as my high subsided, now accompanied by a new ache that became evident as I moved. He hadn’t been rough, but it had been a long time for me and my core was reminding me of it. I looked up at him, his eyes meeting mine as he reached out his hand to help me, his expression more peaceful than I'd ever seen, like he’d come home. The aches I was already feeling were all worth it, just to see that.

Chapter Text

He stopped me scooting off the bed, scooping me up in his arms.

“I’m sure I can walk, Buck.” I protested quietly as I wrapped his arms around his neck.

He shushed me, peppering kisses down my cheek and neck. “You don’t have to argue with me every time I want to take care of you, Cookie.”

I made a non-commital sound as he walked us into the bathroom. “It just feels weird. Having someone just do things for me.”

He looked at me as he set me on the edge of the tub, reaching for the faucet. “What about your husband?”

I shrugged, “Paul was different. He was usually busy, a lot like Bruce and Tony, buried in his work. So when we spent time together he was always worried about doing the best thing for me, making me happy, and it was easier for him to always ask. It’s not that he didn’t want to. He just wanted me to tell him what I wanted. Usually, it was easier for me to just take care of whatever I needed myself before that.” 

He scrutinized me as I spoke. I knew that look. “Bucky, I’m never going to say Paul and I had a perfect relationship, but we worked. He was my best friend, and the father of my children. I will always cherish his memory and how much I loved him.” I touched his cheek. “I’m also never going to compare him to anyone else. You don’t need to either.” I leaned down and kissed him. “He was him. You are you. I can cherish both of you as different, wonderful people.” I kissed him again and he shifted, kneeling between my legs and slipping his arms around my waist. “Stop trying to justify why we are here now, or whether you deserve it.”

His eyes snapped up to me, his mouth setting into a firmer line, obviously about to protest.

I pushed his hair back and leaned down to kiss him again. “Hey, if I have to stop protesting when you want to take care of me, then you need to not protest when I tell you to not punish yourself.”

He huffed against my lips and kissed me back. “Fair enough.” 

He turned off the water and turned on the jets before helping me swing my legs over and into the water. I slid down with a hiss as the warm water shocked my slightly chilled skin. He leaned over and kissed my head. “But, I’m telling you right now, I’m going to make sure you stay here and rest for at least another day. I’m not taking you on the grand tour until you can walk without looking like you’re going to pitch over.” He handed me soap and a washcloth.

My fingers lingered down his arm until they caught his as he pulled away. “You aren’t joining me?” 

He smiled, “Not this time, Cookie. Gonna wash up and get us some breakfast.” Then, something changed in his eyes and they slid down my body and back up. “If I join you, you won’t be resting,” he bent down again and brought his lips to my ear as he slid one hand in the water. “Because all I wanna do is bury myself in that sweet, perfect pussy again.” His hand dipped down and he sunk two fingers through my folds as he nipped the edge of my ear. 

I yelped and jumped at the drag against my swollen folds and then laughed, shoving his hand away. “Beat it, then, if you’re gonna be a menace.”

He laughed and headed for the shower, and I enjoyed the view of the spread of his shoulders, the sculpted wedge of his back with the divots at the base of it, the round swell of his ass and the lines of his muscular legs. It might have been an even better view than the front, and I couldn’t wait for him to let me give him a massage. He looked back at me as he opened the shower door and reached in to turn it on. “Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?”

I wasn’t being subtle about it, my arms crossed on the edge of the tub. I smiled wolfishly, resting my chin on my arms. “Absolutely. I just discovered my new favorite view.” He laughed and got in the shower. I watched him through the glass for a minute before settling in among the jacuzzi jets, closing my eyes. 

Eventually, I heard the shower door again and his soft footsteps, the way he had learned to telegraph his presence for me. I smiled without opening my eyes, letting him know I heard him, and a moment later I felt his soft lips and the stubble of his chin against my forehead. “You doing okay?”

I hummed a relaxed affirmative. “I’ll be ready for more drugs when I get out of here, though.”

“Take all the time you want, sweetheart.” He pressed those plush lips to mine just long enough to make me want more, almost following as he pulled away. He chuckled as I cracked an eye open at his tease. “I’ll be back.”

“You better be, Sarge.” His eyes darkened and I added to the mounting evidence of how he felt about that particular nickname. “You did promise.”

He smiled. “I did.” Then he kissed my head again and I heard his footsteps, followed by the door.

I must have dozed off because I woke to the sound of Bucky calling my name, the water getting cold around me. I got out, popping the tub drain, drying off quickly and wrapping a towel around me. I came out of the bathroom to see him in the breakfast nook, pouring coffee into two mugs, dressed in a dark tank and a pair of sweats hung low around his waist. He looked up at me and smiled like the sun had come out on a rainy day and I could feel myself blush. “I’ll be right there.” I dug around in the drawer and discovered most of the sleepwear skewed to lingerie but some of it wasn’t too risque. I ended up with a satin pajama set of shorts and a button up shirt, in a sapphire blue with black trim. I hung up my towel and grabbed pain meds from my bag.

I padded out into the living area to see Bucky leaning on the counter, deep in thought. “You okay, Bucky?”

He looked up and it took a split second for the troubled look in his eye to clear, but then he stepped over and slid an arm around my waist, pulling me flush to his body. “This is cute.”

“It was probably the least risque sleepwear Natasha left me.”

“Well, now I don’t know whether to be disappointed, or thank her in advance.”

I laughed. 

He drew me to the table, sitting me down in front of an enormous helping of scrambled eggs, bacon and pancakes. “This looks amazing, Bucky.” I took a bite of the eggs, and closed my eyes. They were my cheesy eggs. Light, fluffy and creamy, with small curds and just the right amount of pepper. Perfect for piling on toast. “Bucky…” I cooed, fingers covering my mouth.

He grinned. “Did I get it right, chef?”

“You’ve never made this with me. How-”

“I’ve watched you make them enough. It is your late night go-to.” He nudged over a bottle of hot sauce. The only brand I use for eggs.

I stared at him. I don’t know what was on my face, but my stomach did a full somersault while my heart felt like it would pound out of my chest. It felt deeply strange to feel so noticed . That small things I did had been given such attention. He made my coffee the way I like, too.

He just gave me his cocky grin and went back to his food. After a moment, so did I. 

I managed to eat about half of what he had given me. He polished off the rest with his usual enthusiasm. I got up to pick up the plates and he took them away from me. “Bucky, I can wash a couple of dishes.”

He kissed my cheek. “So can I, sweetheart.” He held the dishes and made me another cup of coffee with his other hand.

“Bucky, be reasonable. I can’t just sit here and do nothing for days.”

He set the dishes in the sink and walked back to me. He slipped his hand behind me and under my shirt, up the small of my back, and pulled me against him. “I never said you’d be doing nothing, doll.” His lips grazed my jaw. “If you have energy for chores now, I can certainly find you something more enjoyable to do.”

I chuckled, “You’re a goddamn fool.”

“Your fool.” He came back up and kissed me, long and languid. “Now go settle somewhere before I carry you back to bed.” He gave my butt a little squeeze and let me go, walking back to the sink.

I rolled my eyes and went back to the bedroom, coming out with my phone and settling on the couch. We spent the day watching The Expanse, switching to hard sci-fi after deciding we had to wait for Steve to finish Star Wars. Bucky was fascinated by how much attention was given to the physics of space travel. Almost enough to distract him from me for the afternoon. 

Almost. His new favorite TV watching position seemed to be with his arm around my shoulder, hand on my breast. Cupping it, lightly squeezing it, teasing my nipple through the silky fabric, caressing the curve of it with his fingers. I finally slipped my hand into the hollow of his, entwining our fingers. He gave a little grunt of displeasure, which made me smile, but didn’t press his luck. At least for another couple of episodes, after which he brought the other hand into play, teasing the other side until I growled in frustration, trapping his metal hand the same way.

He leaned into me, wrapping his arms around my body. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“My boobs are not your new fidget toy, sir.” He purred at the ‘sir’ and an unconscious shiver went down my spine at the sound by my ear. “How would you like it if I just sat here and teased your nipples for that long?” I pouted.

“I don’t know, it doesn’t sound that serious.”

“Lay down, then. Let’s find out.”

I felt him straighten up and look down at me. I tilted my head back and looked at him. “Are you serious?” he asked, his brow drawing a bit.

“Of course I am. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander. Lay down, head in my lap, and turn on the next episode. I have free rein to play with your chest, shirt on, hands only, until it’s over. We’ll see how you like it when someone just takes liberties.”

He regarded me for a long moment. But he decided to indulge me, letting me move away so he could turn and lay his head in my lap. Then he looked up at me. “One episode.”

I smirked. “One episode, you can safeword out, tell me if something hurts or makes you really uncomfortable, but you can’t move away unless we are stopping the game. That’s a fraction of how long I went without doing anything.”

He smirked at me, “I won’t.” Then, he hit play and put the remote back on the table. 

My hand slid over his chest, starting with that gentle, familiar scratch over his sternum. The tank was ribbed and thin, and I could feel the rough of his chest hair through the material. I slid over his left pec, fingers gliding along his scar at the armhole of the tank and back along his collarbone. I splayed my fingers and ran it along his pec again and circled to brush over his left nipple in a fanning motion with my splayed fingers. Then I went back down in the same light motion with just my fingertips ghosting over it, once, twice, and it was hard under my touch. I drew circles around it with the pad of my finger, letting the textured fabric drag over it. I drew my nail lightly over the top, and I felt him tense so very subtly that I nearly missed it, just a flex of his fingers I caught from the corner of my eye. I thumbed it, drawing along the curve of the muscle with my fingers. I strummed across it with my fingertips again and he made a little stifled sigh. I strummed and teased his nipple until I heard his breath hitch when I rolled it between my thumb and forefinger.

I moved to the other side, delighted to find his right side was more sensitive. By the halfway point in the episode, he was making a valiant effort to continue watching, but I wasn’t sure how much he was getting, based on how hard his cock looked tenting his sweatpants, very obviously not constrained by underwear. With ten minutes left he definitely wasn’t watching anymore, his breath hitching and panting below me as I drug my nails lightly over one, then the other. Then, the credits rolled and Bucky came unglued.

With the superhuman speed and power I rarely saw him use day to day he flipped and was on top of me, kissing me like I was his last meal. When he came up for air panting I had an absolutely shit eating grin on my face. “Pretty distracting, isn’t it, Sarge?”

His chest heaved, “I was not that relentless.”

“I only had an hour to work in the torment of several.” I smiled sweetly up at him. “I thought I was being efficient, sir.”

He growled playfully, “I’ll show you efficient. Fucking tease.” He slipped one hand into the leg of the sleep shorts and up to my slit. “No panties?” His lips worked their way to my ear. “Just how hard are you looking to get fucked tonight, doll?” I shivered at the gravelly edge of threat in his voice and gasped at the feel of the cool metal fingers against my clit and teasing my opening with insistent circles. “Need an answer, sweetheart. Because if you say yes, this time is not gonna be slow and gentle.” 

Even as wet as I was just from listening to him try to restrain how good he felt for the last hour, I just felt sore. I hissed in discomfort and shook my head as my body involuntarily pulled away from his hand. “Sorry.” 

He sighed in resignation, not frustration, resting his forehead on my chest. “Okay.” Then, he got up, moving back to his original seat and grabbed the remote. The suddenness made my head spin.

“Wait, that’s it?”

He looked at me confused. “I told you what I wanted and you said no, so yeah. That’s it.”

I blinked, sitting up. “I appreciate the respect for my words, Bucky, don’t get me wrong. Most guys would push the issue.” 

He gave me an offended look. 

Bucky Barnes, King of Consent. I chuckled as I crawled over the couch toward him until my lips could graze his ear, “I may not be up to getting fucked into the mattress yet.” I set one knee between his and slid down past his body to kneel in front of the couch between his knees with my hands on his thighs. “Doesn’t mean I would leave my best guy hanging like that.”

His breath hitched looking down at me. I ran my hands over his thighs, dragging my nails down and then back up with splayed hands until my fingertips could play at the waistband of his sweats. “Sweetheart…” His voice sounded strangled, and it lit the fire in my gut as much as the look in his eye. “You don’t have to…”

I leaned up to rub my cheek over his cock through the sweatpants, nipped at the tip of it, and a groan of pure need came from his throat as he gripped the couch to either side of him. I rolled my eyes up to meet his as I hooked my fingertips in his waistband. “Are you going to let me take care of you, love?”

He licked his lips and swallowed as he nodded. 

____________It’s Smut o’clock!___________

I pulled the waistband over his cock first, letting it spring up against his stomach before slipping around, letting him lift his hips enough for me to pull the sweatpants down and off. I reached up to the edge of his shirt. “This too?” I asked. “I wanna see all of you.” He sat up to strip the tank off and I watched the flex of his chest and arm, the extension of his torso as he pulled it over the back of his head one-handed. I scooted him to the edge of the seat and handed him a pillow to put under his back. 

Then, I sat back on my heels, drinking in the sight of him, worshiping him with my gaze. The happy trail of fine hair trailing up to his navel, the hard planes and lines of his body, accented with the faint silver lines of scars far older than I. The even scattering of dark hair over his broad chest. My eyes traveled to the angles of his jaw, the stormy blue-grey of his eyes looking down at me like I was air, water, everything he needed in that moment, and I sighed as I ran my palms up his now bare, muscular thighs. “You’re so beautiful, James…” I whispered. He blushed furiously and it was the new most perfect view I’d ever seen. 

I licked my lips and smiled as I rose up on my knees and wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock to guide him up to me. I nuzzled my way up his length as I settled comfortably as I could. I watched him as I licked the bead of precum threatening to drip with the tip of my tongue, tasting him, salty and musky, for the first time, and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. I pulled the head into my mouth, sucking it back out, squeezing lightly between my lips as it twitched at the base where I held it steady. I lathed the flat of my tongue on the underside of him, drawing the tip of my tongue against the slit at the top of each stroke. I relaxed my jaw, knowing he’d be a stretch to avoid my teeth becoming unpleasant and took the head in my mouth again, bobbing my head over him as I stretched my jaw out. 

His head fell back. “God, Sweetheart…” he breathed.

I took him further and relaxed my lips, letting the whole process get messy as his arousal mixed with my spit, taking as much as I could without his thickness rubbing my molars. His hips started twitching as he tried not to give me more than I wanted to take, but I could tell he wanted deeper. I stroked what I couldn’t take with one hand, spreading the wetness down his shaft with a twisting motion and his hips bucked. “Shit!”

I kept working him, urged on and guided by the little pants and gasps and groans that fell from his lips when I did something right and the way his head lolled back, biting his lip, and his hands flexed in the couch cushions when I did something very right. My other hand stealthily worked the buttons on the front of my shirt. When I thought I had enough wetness, and him, worked up, I pulled off with a wet pop, letting the saliva in my mouth run down his shaft. “You’ve been awful interested in these today.” He looked down as I rose up to position his cock against my sternum, eyes going glassy and swallowing roughly as my now exposed chest came into view. I took his hands and brought them to my bare breasts, using them to mound me around him, snugging his wet shaft between their pillowy softness. “Fuck my tits, Sarge.” I purred. 

He gave a ragged moan as he squeezed my breasts around himself, “Oh, God …” and he started moving his hips, thrusting up between them. He massaged them, almost painfully around his cock as he watched himself move. I pulled my hair back with one hand so he could see better and brought my mouth back down to suck the peeking head as he rutted up against me. He thumbed my nipples as he held my breasts until I moaned around his tip with a shiver.  

He growled, “Look so good, beautiful… gonna make me… God , gonna come on these gorgeous tits.” My other hand moved underneath us to massage his tight balls and he started to lose his rhythm. I tugged them lightly. “Oh, oh, fuck !” I lifted my head as I felt his hips stutter and looked up at him with a grin as he came with a shout, painting my neck and chest. I clasped my hands over his again and moved myself up and down his shaft, working him through his orgasm, feeling the little hitches and jerks as he transitioned from aftershocks to overstimulated. He gasped out a little laugh. “God,” he panted as he pushed me away gently, “fuck, sweetheart, enough.” He looked down at me sitting between his knees, eyes locked on his spend beginning to drip down my breasts as I swiped the back of my hand across my wet chin.

I smiled smugly as he tried to bring his breathing back under control and braced myself on his knees to help push myself off the floor. “Thought you might enjoy that,” I chuckled. He laughed breathlessly, and I bent over to kiss his forehead. “Happy to oblige, love,” I said before heading to the bathroom to clean up and take more pain meds.

Chapter Text

We spent the evening eating leftover pizza and talking and watching TV and just being close to one another until we fell asleep on the couch, wrapped up together.

The next day we got a text update from Steve the team was headed to Johannesburg, Tony said we probably shouldn’t plan on coming back to the Tower any time soon, and Nat said she would be sending some of our personal things. Clint asked if I’d seen the snake yet. I asked what he meant by that and nobody answered me. I asked Bucky if he had heard anything about it from Steve, or if he had seen anything in the commons. He said no, but something about the way he said it left me feeling skeptical. Like he answered my question, but I had asked the wrong one. But, then he decided to eat me out on the table in the breakfast nook until I forgot what I was trying to find out and damn near forgot my own name.

In the afternoon he showed me around the house and we went down to the training gym. He wanted to work out, and I tried to stretch and do some of my physical therapy exercises. Not much, due to how sore and stiff I still felt, but it helped to at least move around some. Eventually, I was just doing some very static stretches and watching him.

It had been a long time since I’d gotten to just watch him drill. All the Avengers moved differently when they fought. Nat was elegant, small and nimble and sharp. Steve was a brawler, all directness and power married to solid technique and competence. Bucky was effortless confidence. I knew a lot of the skills that lived in his head were a part of the thing he hated, the thing he would be rid of in a moment if he could. That didn’t stop him from being beautiful to watch. I loved the way he moved when he sunk into his body and stopped thinking. It was like his entire body could move with that cocky smile he had sometimes. He moved with fluid confidence, quick and seamless, power only when and where it was needed. 

And, with a knife in his hand… It flipped and twisted and switched hands with the grace of water. His hands had always fascinated me. I could watch him do knife drills or clean his guns for hours. Now I did it with my chest full of hot butterflies. 

He noticed me watching and tried to teach me to throw a knife after that, but gave up on my lack of coordination after an hour. I was impressed he held out that long. Then I shoved him against the wall in the locker room and showed him there are other things my hands are very good at.

The following morning, after yet another Bucky-made breakfast, he finally took me on a tour of the Compound. A delivery van arrived with a couple of boxes of mine and Bucky’s personal items, so he took me with him up to the main entrance to pick them up. The compound was expansive. He showed me around the soon to be main facility with S.H.I.E.L.D offices, he drove us around the larger grounds of the compound and in the early afternoon we went into town for groceries. It made me feel a little sad when he pulled on his leather gloves and jacket to hide his arm when we left the compound. Seeing it had become so normal for me. I had nearly forgotten that most people would feel uncomfortable about it. 

I’d also forgotten I had three day old bumps and scrapes everywhere, even on my face, until I got some subtle questioning looks and safety signals while we were out, which I politely waved off, and a few really dirty looks at Bucky. He was damn near beside himself when I told him on the way home that the sweet-looking older lady by the cucumbers had subtly asked me if I was okay and if I needed help getting away from “that rough, angry-looking man”. 

“I couldn’t help but laugh.” I was telling him as we parked in front of the house and I got out. “I thanked her so much for caring enough to ask. I told her, ‘I’m so glad there are people like you watching out for others. I was in a car accident a few days ago.” We walked around to the trunk of the car to take the groceries inside. “‘Drunk driver,’ I said to her and ‘No ma’am, it looks worse than it is. My boyfriend over there is still feeling very upset and overprotective about-’.” He froze, and I gave him a questioning look. “What?”

He was just staring at me blankly as the trunk lid popped up next to him.

“What, Buck? Is there something on my face?”

“Your boyfriend?” He’d gone full poker face on me and I didn’t know how to take that.

“Oh,” I hedged. “Sorry, is that weird? I mean, it was a cover story and we never discussed one.” There was something happening behind his eyes, and it was one of the rare occasions I couldn’t quite read him, but I didn’t think it was negative. “I know we haven’t really talked about it… What this is.” I gave him a little smile, trying to test the waters. “But, I mean, if you liked the idea-”

He closed the space, one hand around my waist, the other bringing my face to his so fast I barely yipped in surprise before he kissed me like he’d steal the breath from my body. When he let me up for air, he was panting with one of the most joyful smiles I’d ever seen, better than the first time we’d danced, and I was sure it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever see in my life.

I grinned back at him. “Should I take that as a yes?” He just laughed and kissed me through our smiles again until I complained that the icecream was going to melt.

That evening we made dinner together in the big common kitchen, meatloaf with a sweet spicy glaze, roasted rosemary potatoes and caramelized brussels sprouts. He tried to get me to cook in my room, and I refused, insisting on breaking in the new kitchen, though he playfully tried to convince me to “break in the new kitchen” by letting him bend me over the counter while the meatloaf was cooking. I wasn’t feeling quite that exhibitionist, or energetic at that point in the day. My body was emphatically telling me it was time for more painkillers and bed after being up and about so much, so I happily took care of him with some making out and a handjob instead.

Then the news got more disturbing. Johannesburg, footage of Hulk on a rampage.  I woke that night in a cold sweat, screaming and fighting Bucky’s arms because in my brain his metal arm around my waist was debris that had fallen on me and I couldn’t escape before the Chitauri killed me. He kissed my face and held me, speaking sweetly to me in that mix of English and Russian he always fell into when trying to comfort me, and let me cry until I fell asleep again in his arms. 

I couldn’t bear listening to the news the following morning, so I convinced Bucky we should go explore the nature preserve that butted up to the back of the compound, though he made me bundle up and insisted we ride out on one of the ATVs and made me stop frequently. I’m not sure how many of the stops were for my benefit and how many were him just wanting to kiss me senseless. 

We ended up cooking again that night because the meatloaf leftovers from the night before were mysteriously gone. So we ate pasta primavera while catching up on the news cycle. A lot of it was the damage in South Africa and I expressed my worry about Hulk and Bruce, knowing Bruce would be beating himself up over it. I knew it would set back their progress on cohabitation greatly, and I wondered what had sent Hulk on what seemed like such indiscriminate destruction. That night Bucky woke up from a nightmare about bringing down a government building in Ghana, and I held and soothed him the same way he had done for me the night before.

The team had gone dark after Johannesburg as news stories and public opinion mounted. I got one private message from Clint on an obscure online account saying “Everyone safe. Watching ‘clones with the fam. Did you see the snake yet?”

I hadn’t, but any leftovers from my cooking we left in the commons fridge disappeared overnight.

“Okay, Bucky, what the fuck is going on?” I looked up from the fridge the third morning after Johannesburg, seeing the rest of the taco fixings gone when I’d planned on making chilaquiles for breakfast.

“What?” he asked, coming into the commons.

“Who the fuck is here with us, Buck?”

He got a deer in the headlight look. “I don’t know.”

“Well, at least you didn’t deny it or try to distract me this time.” I said testily.

He ran his hand through his hair. “I know about as much as you. Nat only said they’d steer clear and be gone in a few days. I haven’t laid eyes on them either.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “And you didn’t think that was worth telling me before you convinced me to jerk you off in the commons, let alone asking me to let you fuck me out here? 

“I don’t know who it is! I swear!” He reached out for me. “Sweetheart…”

I held up a finger. “Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me, James Buchanan Barnes. You knew someone was .” He flinched. 

“It was need to know…” he grumbled.

“And at what point was it going to be pertinent information when they’re already eating the leftovers?! And what about every time I bring it up? What, did Nat tell you to keep me distracted, too? Hmm? Did she tell you to seduce me, keep shutting me up with your mouth, or did you just decide that was your favorite ploy?”

His eyes went hard. “Now, that’s not fair - !”

“Neither is hiding this from me!”  I stormed to the French doors and out onto the patio, muttering, “There is one person I can think of in the whole fucking galaxy that they…” I texted the group.

Me: You better hope to every god in existence that I’m wrong about who is here with me.

Clint: I warned you & Nat tried to 🔪 me!

Me: C you are the only one not hanging out on my shit list right now. Thanks for the attempted trigger warning.

Clint: 😇

Sam: Hey, idk anything about this!

Tony: Me neither!

Clint: Because T can’t keep a secret.

Tony: Pot. Kettle.

Clint: Nat is the bad one! She even convinced 🇺🇸 to keep hush!

Nat: Relax, your bf isn’t going to let anything happen to you.

Clint: bf !?! 🎉 🥰 🐓 🐂

Tony: Mozel tov, Curly Top! About damn time, Terminator.

Sam:   Get it, old man!

Clint: It was supposed to be a brown chicken…

I nearly threw my phone.