#avgstarter

Missing a hand was a strange thing to have to get used to. Phil hadn’t realized just how much he had taken for granted before. Driving, for example, was something he loved that he’d had to give up. Going out in Lola now involved sitting in the passenger seat and fretting over letting someone else drive. Needless to say, Lola didn’t get out on the road much anymore. Ties were another thing that had needed to change. He was having to relearn how to tie one with only one hand, so until it was to a point where he could make it look presentable without help, he had to be contented with clip-ons.

Something he hadn’t anticipated was just how much his morning routine of fixing a pot of coffee would change with a hand gone and his arm in a sling. He’d never really noticed just how much he did with his left hand until it wasn’t there anymore and he was forced to take everything step by step. It was frustrating when he was used to his morning routine going by quickly.

Steve peeked his head into the brightly colored play room, leaning against the door frame with a wide smile. He’d been off training for a few days in a different location, but Tony gave him a heads up that Maria missed playing with him, and of course, Steve was happy to oblige.

Tony pulled his ballcap lower on his face before grinning at Maria as she played in the park. A few hours went by and eventually she was falling asleep. Pulling her up to her feet, he hefted her onto his shoulders and carried her that way, her tiny fingers pulling his hair. 

Bucky wandered through the hallways, hands stuck into the pockets of the sweatpants he’d worn to bed. It was another of the rougher nights and he was now wide awake at three in the morning and not wanting to wake Steve up, knowing he’d just continue to toss and turn. 

So he took to exploring the tower, stuck here while Steve was here. As well as being on a thin leash. Bucky didn’t really care entirely... but he wanted to make Steve proud. He’d vouched for him; one of the main reasons why he wasn’t rotting somewhere in an off-grid facility.  Padding softly, he stopped in the small kitchenette, hovering near the coffeemaker, making a new pot and choosing one of the few exotic sets of grounds. That was one of Bucky’s guilty pleasures. Coffee. It had been absolute shit seventy years ago and with the selection these days, the man couldn’t get enough of it. For most people it might be considered unhealthy, but with the quickened metabolism, it was burned off quicker than normal. 

It was about time he got a moment to get out of the tower. It seemed like every time he tried, something came up or someone needed something–and with all of the new people SHIELD was sending in to train, Steve couldn’t really afford to leave much. It was troubling to say the least, having to make sure every person was actually sent in from SHIELD because the organization couldn’t be bothered to tell them when they decided to send back-up now that it was all screwed to hell.

So Steve finally got the chance to escape, making his way over to a coffee shop in Manhattan. He didn’t go too far. If he would have taken his motorcycle, his choice would have been to go to Brooklyn, but this was alright too. Far enough away to get a break, and still close enough to monitor potential threats.