You wonder briefly if watching some YouTube would be extremely unprofessional or just a mild, millennial version of unprofessionalism.

Deciding against it, you sit on the plushest and buttery soft black leather couch, fishing around your large purse for your notebook. Carefully flipping past the first pages, you look over the list of Avengers you’ve compiled - along with basic stats, going over them for the umpteenth time since being assigned this article. And, being the person you are, you had arranged them by age, willingness to talk to you, and then on difficulty on opening up for the story.

Fishing out a pen, you make a few last-minute notes, only to feel that tell-tale prickle at the back of your neck alerts you to the three figures lingering in the large entryway that leads towards a hallway. You pop up, smoothing out your dress bottom nervously.

“Oh! Hello. I’m Y/N, writer for Undefined Muses. I’m, uh, here to interview you?”

“You don’t seem to know if you are or not,” Hawkeye, Clint Barton, says with a big smile - the last yellow traces of a bruise fading on his left cheek.

“I wasn’t sure who all had agreed to participate - and I don’t want to force anyone to do if they aren’t interested.”

“Normally, the reporters are kind of rabid about these kinds of interviews,” Natasha replies smoothly, moving into the room and perching on the arm of an oversized loveseat. She’s dressed impeccably, looking like a glamorous movie star from the thirties, with high waist black dress pants and a dark blue silk shirt with tiny red roses dotted all over.

“Well, my boss sent me because I’m,” You pause, searching for the right word. “Demure.”

“I honestly was waiting for you to say ‘unrabid’.” Clint chuckles out, tossing himself into the loveseat that Natasha is perched on directly across from where you stand.

“I’m not sure what writer would use the word ‘unrabid’. I’m also 90% sure that isn’t a word.”

“Only 90%?” Natasha queries, smiling so knowingly it makes you a little wary.

“Well, he said it, so thus it has been made a word. But you won’t find it in a dictionary. So yes, 90%.”

The large brunet, whom you knew as James Barnes, still stood by the hallway they must have come from, watching the interactions with storm blue eyes. Your shoulders tighten, straightening as you realize that they’d sent all the previous assassins in first. Quite the unsettling welcome wagon… Wait. Was this a weird sort of game? Like chicken? You very nearly chuckle, if that’s the case, because little did these people know you weren’t the bravest person - content with hiding behind your words, telling others amazing and heart wrenching stories.

“Will you all be participating?” You finally manage to get out with a smile without nerves making it forced.

“They will,” Comes the answer from behind you - Tony Stark himself, Iron Man in the flesh, says with a confidence you’d only seen on tv. “Miss Y/L/N. So glad you could make it. Plane ride enjoyable?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you so much for the use of your plane.” He waves a hand as he flashes a megawatt smile.

“No problem. No problem at all. Now, I know they’ve probably introduced themselves but that is Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and one of the 100 plus pair, Bucky Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you all,” They all nod as Tony rubs his hands together then claps.

“Now, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying, I’ll have Happy drop your luggage in there while I show you around -”

“I’m sorry - uh, staying?” You tilt your head a tad to the left, blinking at the illustrious Mr. Stark.

“Yes. Of course, you’ll be staying here in the compound. Rhodey, Steve, and Sam are headed home as we speak, should be here sometime early tonight. Wanda and Vision are on their way back, they were having brunch at a nearby vineyard. Oh, and Thor, the Guardians of the Galaxy, and Captain Danvers should be in - oh, I don’t know - maybe 3 or 4 days. Everyone else is on site.” Logically, you know your mouth is open. You also know you should close it, but the shock…

Every. Single. Avenger.

Fuck.

“Um, I just...Sir, I didn’t mean...I only just brought...ALL OF THEM??”

“To answer your oh so eloquent questions, I did tell your boss I would be getting you as many as possible. I would have thought Mrs. Rodrigez, was it?, would have conveyed the seriousness,” He gives a little huff, smile firmly in place. “Anyhow, you’ll manage. FRIDAY will have a list of shops that will deliver here - we have a tab, just feel free to add to it.”

“Sir -”

“Tony,” He corrects.

“Tony. I will manage my own clothes, thank you. My boss did stress the importance of this interview block. I was told, however, that this was by choice for the Avengers or Stark Industries staff. Not that you’d make them come from outer space to be riddled with questions. And, Tony, I honestly don’t know why our little site was chosen to write these interviews to begin with, sir. How do you even know who I am…” You were so focused on Tony that you hadn’t realized that Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Pepper Potts (Stark?), Bruce Banner, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne and a man of Asian descent you couldn’t place had entered the room. Tony moves closer, peering over the couch and down into your purse, finger pulling at one of the edges to see into it.

“Well, that’s simple. I asked for you.” Eyebrows shoot upward in shock before your forehead furrows. “See, Pep read a piece you did on library and book importance - specifically in young and all school-age children. It was lying around, so I read it. And you know what? I liked the emotion. The thoughtfulness behind it. Every word was picked with such care - constructed to paint a picture. And that’s what I want you to do for us.” He gestures for you to sit, which you give a gentle shake of your head at and takes up the seat you’d been in before. He leans forward, one elbow balanced on his knee as he looks up at you. “We get good press, bad press too, but I want people to see the big picture. We’re a team. We’re a family. We sacrifice a lot to be able to do what we do. Paint that picture for me.” The spell Tony seemed to have cast on you raised and you look around to see the whole room staring at you, waiting.

You swallow hard and nod a couple of times. “I’ll do my best, Tony.” He rises and gives a nod of his own, flashing you a smile tinged with sadness that he quickly hides.

“Good. Good. Let’s get you into a guest room and then the tour. But first, some more introductions.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

The voice in your room, in all the building you suppose, FRIDAY as she introduced herself, announced that dinner would be casual dress and served in an hour. Tony had been a gracious host, informing you he’d canceled your room at the winery - that, coincidentally, Wanda and Vision had been having brunch at earlier - before sashaying around the compound with Pepper, Scott, and Hope all in tow like a little tour group. Tony dutifully recited when it was built, remodeled, rebuilt. The layout and their functions. He adds little tidbits about visiting when he was little, making everything a little more real for you. You walk beside him, with him sometimes latching onto your elbow as you talk softly into your recorder, reminding yourself to get pictures of certain areas later with your camera.

It had been nice, Scott was witty and said aloud most of the smart ass comments you’d been thinking. Pepper kept Tony focused and Hope spent as much time as you did asking questions. The tour of the basic facilities ended back where it had begun in the living room, rain beginning to splatter against the massive wall of windows to your left.

You’d managed to find your way back to the room, 5th on the right, to find your overnight bag sitting on the end of the bed next to a plush white robe and a note from Tony stating he’d still asked for the stores to bring over things for you to pick out tomorrow and not to bother fighting him on it. Kicking off your shoes, you’d wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling window in your room to watch the raindrops slide down the glass, tucking your legs under you as you sat on the very soft, thick carpet with your notebook and pen.

Amelina, your boss and best friend, had bought you a gray, faux-leather sunflower embossed one to butter you up. Your little addiction and she knew it. You’d accepted the notebook and the assignment with little hesitation. Only to look at the notebook lying on your desk later and think ‘What the hell have I just done?!’

The first page is an outline of what Amelina had said she wanted from the articles (she ideally wanted to break them into separate pieces with each Avenger getting their own spotlight), your notes on the Avengers from digging online and the preliminary dates the article, or articles, would be posted on the site. Taking a deep breath you flip past the Avengers you’d already made lists for, adding the Guardians, Captain Danvers, Doctor Stranger, Wong (whom you’d met earlier), adding Scott and Hope as well, since they are West Coast-based and you had a 50/50 chance of actually interviewing them initially.

Your recorder would hold the interviews, your verbal notes and memos to take pictures of certain locations...but your gray notebook, that was for your notes and thoughts on their habits, likes and dislikes based on observation, how they interact with you, and how they interact with each other.

The alarm on your phone drags you away from writing a few more observations on the page designated for Pepper Potts, letting you know that you need to get up and changed for dinner. You plug your recorder in to download the tour from earlier while you change and freshen up your hair and makeup.

Your hopping on one foot, trying to shove your foot into the stupid pump when your alarm goes off again. Tossing yourself onto the end of the bed, you unplug your recorder and wiggle your foot into the pump better before heading out the door. You shove the recorder into the pocket of your skirt, making your way down the hall when the intro to “7 Rings” begins playing from the phone in your hand. With a quick swipe you answer, stopping almost halfway down the hall.

“Yes?”

“Is that any way to answer the phone?”

“It is when I’m on my way to dinner and your long-winded call could make me late.”

“Harsh, dude, harsh.” Amelina barely takes a breath before continuing. “So, whatcha got so far?”

“First of all, that isn’t how I work. How long have you known me, Lina? By the way, I’m mad at you.”

“What for?”

“You didn’t tell me I’d be staying here or that I’d be here for two weeks. I looked like an idiot in front of Tony Freaking Stark and Pepper Freaking Potts!” You hiss into the phone, tapping your foot in irritation as she chuckles on the other end of the line.

“Sorry! I honestly didn’t know how long you’d be staying -”

“Well, it’s nice that you let me know that!”

“Mr. Stark just asked how long he could have you on loan. I said a max of three weeks.”

“Oh my god, Amelina,” you groan, letting your head drop forward as you repeat in your head to breathe.

“You are such a -”

“You’re being a real bitch. I would have packed. I would have been prepared. But nooooo! Now I’m standing in a hallway wishing that your brother’s new puppy would pee in your expensive shoes!”

“Now that’s just mean!”

“I’m hanging up now. May Jedi maul all the shoes you hold dear.” You jab your thumb against the screen before taking a deep breath and continuing your trek to the living room.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Apparently ‘casual’ at the Avengers compound is a broad term. Clint is sporting a sweatshirt with the SHIELD logo emblazoned on the front with black jogging pants and loafers. Steve has a dark blue shirt that is miraculously being held together by mere buttons, which you’re afraid if he strains, will lose their valiant efforts to keep his shirt together. His is paired with khakis and the same loafers as Clint, which amuses you for some unknown reason. Sam Wilson has a red t-shirt with a black blazer over it, dark gray jeans and some well-worn boots. As you finish taking in appearances, standing like a wallflower half-hidden by the hallway arch still, you can’t help but wonder if you should pinch yourself to see if this was reality.

Sam spots you first, or is the first to acknowledge it, and makes his way over with a friendly smile painted on his face.

“I’m Sam Wilson, nice to meet you.” His hand extends and nearly swallows your own before giving it a firm shake. You liked that. He wasn’t treating you as delicate. You detested when men did that when shaking hands with women…

“Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you as well.”

“Heard Tony gave you the tour.” He’s got a smirk now, eyes bright and teasing.

“Oh yeah. He offered to let me try out a suit - but only when Pepper and Steve weren’t around.”

“Killjoys,” Sam gives a serious shake of his head, chuckling as FRIDAY announces dinner is ready to be served. “Let’s get you to dinner. We’re having it in the mess hall once everyone gets here - tonight we can still have it in the actual dining room.” He offers his arm, guiding you out of the living area. “You met Bucky, right?” You give a nod, very aware the aforementioned is right behind the two of you. “His article will be the shortest. Dude’s damn near a mute unless he’s lecturing Steve, so I wish you good luck on interviewing him.”

“And here I thought that your odd friendship was all made up…” You answer slyly, hearing a snort of laughter behind you - unsure if it belongs to Steve or Bucky.

“Hey Cap, you meet the reporter?” Sam flashes you a smile as he turns the two of you around, bringing you to a hard stop so you don’t ram into the super-soldier.

“Steve Rogers, miss.” He offers his hand and gives yours a firm shake, his blue eyes holding a wariness you weren’t expecting. Captain America, wary of you? Doesn’t inspire a lot of hope in you about this whole experience…

“Y/N Y/L/N, sir.”

“Sit! Sit!” Tony orders jovially from down the table before pointing to the man at his right. “Rhodey. War Machine. Liar extraordinaire. I may need to sit in to make sure he gets all the facts straight.”

“Don’t listen to Mr. Stank over here, ma’am.”

“Unfortunately, that’s why I’m here Mr. Rhodes.” Steve pulls out your chair for you, waiting until your seated to take his seat to your left. “Thank you.”

“I think we should all get to know each other,” Tony starts, only for Rhodey to roll his eyes and Bruce to scoff from the other end of the long table.

“May I record?” You ask, watching everyone sort of tense and shuffle.

“Of course!” Tony answers as you withdraw the recorder, clicking it on and sitting it beside your plate.

“I think it’s only fair since I’ll be bothering all of you for the next two or so weeks, that you can ask me whatever you’d like as well.”

“That’s fair,” Dr. Strange concedes from his spot to your right.

“Very fair, I think,” Scott agrees, giving you a big comforting smile.

“Okay, well let’s start with where you were born.” A handful of waiters come in, setting bowls and plates onto the tabletop before disappearing.

“Family style,” Pepper clarifies before looking expectantly to you.

“I was born in California. But moved to Seattle when I was little, maybe about 3. Right before I started kindergarten we moved back to California. Been there ever since.”

“And your business?” Pepper asks, dishing some green beans onto her plate.

“It’s more Amelina’s than mine. We’re partners in the site, but I do the money part, well I prep it for the accountant - and most of the writing - and she does the schmoozing, bossing around, the sports articles and the keeping up of the site. So she’s doing the lion’s share.”

“I would think you break even,” Hope pipes up. “Well, what with you having to travel and compile the information and then write it out. Plus anything to do with money is usually more stressful. Do you both hire and fire?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We tried to hire a sports writer after we’d had the site for a year, but it didn’t work out...”

“Wait. Wait. Was it that guy that kept inserting himself into the story?” Sam laughs out, peeking around Bucky who is beside Steve. You bite back a groan.

“Yes.”

“Bucky, Rhodey - it’s that article I sent you saying that Babe Ruth was only half the baseball player he could have been and that the writer could’ve been the next Bambino.” Rhodey is at least trying not to laugh, but you can see Bucky’s shoulders shaking as you lean backward in your chair.

“That was a huge mistake. All of his work we reviewed before hiring was impeccable. I checked to make sure it wasn’t plagiarized and we called all of his references. Apparently, he’d had some experience in coding and websites, so after he handed in his first final draft, he went in an hour after Amelina posted it, and changed it. We got so many emails - we were getting all these calls... Brian up and disappeared after he did that. To this date, still haven’t had as much traffic on the site as that day.”

“Brian sounds like a douche,” Wanda mutters with a smile, taking a sip from her wine glass. You look down at your plate, finding it overflowing with more food than you’d put on there. You raise an eyebrow at Steve, who just shrugs and puts a forkful of potato salad in his mouth with a smile.

“Yeah. I blacklisted him.”

“Blacklisted how?” Clint manages around a mouthful of bread.

“Oh, um, well I emailed almost every single media outlet in California, Washington, Oregon, and Nevada. Then I asked them to forward it to their parent stations or owners. So basically, after a year of emailing people, most blogs, newspapers, tv stations, circulars, and YouTube hosts in California to Kentucky know not to deal with anyone going by his name. I helped a reporter from Pennsylvania with her story, and she began emailing people on the East Coast about it. All emails included his picture too, just in case he went by another name.”

“Effective. A bit ruthless.” Vision is seated between Wanda and Rhodey, nodding in approval.

“No! Not ruthless!” You defend, voice rising a little before the heat rises in your neck and cheeks. “Sorry. I just didn’t want anyone to get dinged as we did. We had to say a lot of apologies and lost a lot of work because of his pointless self-involved rant. And I mean, who goes after Babe Ruth?”

“Balls but no brains,” Scott adds, the two of you nodding. He points his fork at your plate. “Eat.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“That’s what you’re here for.” Tony chuckles out.

“What do you guys do in times like these? When there aren’t aliens or Loki or HYDRA? Like a big spa day for all of you guys? Karaoke?”

“To be honest,” Natasha begins. “There aren’t a lot of days like this when we are all free at the same time. But honestly, it’s more watching and waiting than action and aliens.”

“Kind of miss SHIELD to kind of take care of the day to day bad guy cartel and mafia stuff?” You manage around a mouthful of pasta. Sweet Jesus, it was decadent and cheesy.

“Sometimes I miss the help,” Clint admits.

“What Clint means is that he misses telling people what to do.” Sam teases, tossing a bread roll at him across the table, which Clint catches without even looking away from you.

“Hey! I didn’t tell people what to do. They just did it.”

“Did you buy a bar just to tear it down, Tony?” Tony smiles around a forkful of steak.

“Yes. Yes, I did. Ross just rubs me the wrong way.”

“To be fair, I think he rubs everyone the wrong way.”

“You’ve met him?” Steve sounds surprised, eyebrows raised in what you hope is astonishment.

“Unfortunately. I was in college and had to write a piece on something or someone whom you don’t agree with. Now I am all for soldiers but upper management sucks in the military, no offense Mr. Rhodes. But, everywhere, really... I just think the old guys in Congress and equally old guys in the upper ranks are calling the shots on things they shouldn’t be interfering in, as far as college me was concerned. Ross irritated me for the simple reason that he was the smartest person in the room and no matter what I said, what facts I had, what questions I asked, I would always be wrong. Never disliked being called ‘sweetheart’ so much in my life. Hard to have a conversation with the other side when they talk to you like that. Plus, I got a D on that paper, so he sucks in my book.”

“I told him to call me if he needed help. Then I left him on hold. In my own defense, I did warn him earlier I did like to watch the light blink.” Rhodey snorts into his glass at Tony’s admission.

“Like a tiny Christmas light of joy.” Steve comments, leaning back in his chair with a smile.

You shove a forkful of green beans into your mouth, giving a little sigh at how damn good it tasted before spearing a few more and eating those as Scott launches into the tale of him, Cassie, Luis and his ex-wife’s husband all hanging Christmas lights - only for the new husband to find he’d rewired and programmed them to blink in super slow motion with the fastest Christmas songs he could find and vice versa. And every 9 hours and 45 minutes, it played La Cucaracha, perfectly in time with the lights. There are a few chuckles around the table, but you’re laughing pretty damn hard.

“That’s brilliant actually! The deviousness lies in the amount of annoying that they could take. Having to time your exit must have been a bitch.”

“He and one of his buddies took it all down, bought new lights and hung those up. Cassie told me she missed hearing the Chipmunks, so I remotely programmed a timer so it would play the Christmas Don’t Be Late song right before her bedtime.”

“Cassie sounds like a wonderful girl. And very lucky to have you for her father.” Scott looks flustered but gives you the brightest smile before looking down at his empty plate.

“Th-thank you.”

“Of course. Do you guys do Netflix around here? Movie night?”

“Your mind is everywhere…” Hope says with a grin. “That’s good.”

“And to answer your question - yes. We have Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime…” Sam trails off as the waiters reappear, clearing the table only to return seconds later with plates of beautiful personal assorted desserts. If this was how they ate, you’d hate to see their exercise regime. Oh god, you hoped you weren’t expected to work out with them...

“I was just wondering how you all decide on a show. Do Steve and Bucky have lists? Like are you all working through AFI’s 100 Greatest Movies? I think I’ve only seen 20 of them. Do you all binge shows together?”

“Pep started a rotation. So if it’s your Sunday night and you’re in the compound or tower, then you pick the movie or show. If you aren’t here, it goes to the next person on the list.”

“Sometimes after a mission, it’s usually just decided to watch tv shows just cause we all sort of zone out,” Steve whispers after Tony’s answer, taking a big scoop of his parfait.

“We’ve never been invited,” Wong pipes up, frowning at Tony.

“Oh, I invited both you and Strange right after Pepper made the schedule. If Strange didn’t relay that…” Dr. Strange just rolls his eyes.

“I mentioned it.”

“You didn’t say it was a regular occurrence.” Wong huffs out before biting into a ladyfinger.

“Like an old married couple,” Clint chuckles out, his desserts all gone as he leans contentedly back in his chair. You give your head a small shake at their exchange before reaching to stop your recorder.

“Well, thank you so much for that delicious meal. And thank you for letting me record. I hope I get less awkward as this goes on.”

“This was awkward?” Wanda raises an eyebrow, making you fiddle with the recorder before tucking it into your pocket.

“Okay, well, um then it will get more awkward before it gets less awkward.” You all rise, pushing in your chairs before wandering out of the dining room and back towards the living areas.

“You’ll find out we’re all awkward. Well, except me.” You nod seriously at Tony’s words, managing to see Bucky roll his eyes at Tony’s words. Huh. Who knew… “Nightcap?”

“Oh, no. Thank you. I’m so full I don’t think I could even manage that.”

“Then we’ll say goodnight.” A chorus of goodnights echoes around the large living room.

“Goodnight everyone.”

You totter off to your room, cursing the fact that you’re so sleepy right now. After washing your face, brushing your teeth and changing into your pajamas, you shuffle down under the covers.

“Well, that wasn’t the most awkward or silent dinner I’ve ever been to…” You mutter before sleep drags you under.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

In the morning, you wake up earlier than you usually tend to, sitting on the floor in your pajamas in front of the rain-splattered window with your headphones on - going over the recordings, transcribing them and making notes in your dotted notebook, since it better served to add afterthoughts to. Not the nice orderly layout of your new notebook. And you’re so involved in listening and typing, snatching up the notebook beside you to jot down memos, that you don’t hear Steve and Tony calling your name and you sure as hell don’t hear them enter.

The scream accounts for that, Bucky and Sam barrelling through your door as you look up at Steve and Tony with wide eyes, shoving your headphones off.

“We’re sorry.” Tony barely restrains a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I had FRIDAY see if you were awake, then came to get you for breakfast, but,” He laughs now, the skin by his eyes crinkling. “You didn’t answer.”

“Maybe we should think about a different system!” You blurt as you stare up at the four men.

“Yes. Definitely,” Tony chuckles. “Next time I’ll have FRIDAY blink the lights to alert you.”

“Thank you!”

“Our pleasure.” Steve grins out, extending a hand.

“No, I’m fine here, thanks.” Steve shrugs, the smile not disappearing.

“Well, we’ll leave you to get dressed for breakfast. The shops are due to arrive after breakfast for you to pick some more clothes for your stay. Sam has also requested to be your first interview.” Sam winks at you from Cap’s left, sporting a wide smile as Bucky’s gaze goes from Sam to you.

“Thanks again.” You peer around Steve. “And thank you two for coming so quickly.”

“Anytime, Y/N.” Sam delivers smoothly, Bucky rolling his eyes before making a swift exit. The other three leave with smiles on their faces.

It takes you several minutes to realize you were in your pajamas; a worn and oversized ‘It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown’ shirt paired with sleep shorts that could barely be seen peeking under the hem of your shirt.

“Jeez…” You groan, rubbing a hand over your face before closing the laptop and tossing your notebooks on the bed.

Ten minutes later you have your teeth brushed and you’re dressed in adequate attire, shuffling nervously into the kitchen area on the other side of the bar in the living room. Clint and Bucky are cooking, Wanda weaving between the two expertly. You slip in the seat next to Hope, her hair in a ponytail and dressed in workout clothes.

“How long has everyone been up?” You whisper-ask, setting your recorder and notebook beside the empty plate that Natasha sets in front of you with a small smile. You return it as Hope cuts her pancake which is riddled with syrup, fruit and whipped cream.

“We all did a workout before breakfast,” She puts a big bite of sugar-laden pancake in her mouth, “Speeds up your metabolism.”

“Where’s Scott?”

“Here.” He mutters, slipping into the seat on the other side of Hope.

“Not a morning person?”

“I enjoy my sleep.”

“Thank god. Me too. Under normal circumstances.”

“Yes,” A new voice pipes up from the other side of the room, making you lean back to see who it is. “We heard about the intrusion this morning.”

“Holy - Princess Shuri!” After nearly tripping trying to slither out of your stool, you manage to get upright and extend a hand. “So lovely to meet you.”

“Thank you. It is lovely to meet you as well. I read your articles after Tony mentioned you were selected to do the interviews, and I must say that when you do scientific articles, there is a very nice flow and imagery that one does not usually get.”

“Thank you! I’m sure whoever I’ve interviewed in the science community doesn’t care for all the questions I have after the interview, so I’m glad that it reads well to a genius.”

“You will just make her head bigger, Miss Y/L/N.”

“King T’Challa, wonderful to meet you.” You breathe a deep breath of relief as he extends his hand, giving it a firm shake with a warm smile.

“Wonderful to meet you as well. Please sit, you must keep your strength up if you are to deal with all of us.” There is mischief in his eyes, the twinkle of a man temporarily unburdened.

“That bad?”

“Wait ‘til the Guardians are here!” A male voice pipes up, followed by a tossing sound and a huffed “Sorry!”

“Peter Parker, ma’am.” Your eyebrows shoot up as you automatically stick out your hand.

“Spider-Man,” Tony supplies as he walks by with a bowl of oatmeal. Honestly, your only thought is that he’s a baby and should be protected at all cost.

“Yeah, I think I saw a post on Instagram about someone in New York making Spider-Man ice creams...So you’re the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?” Peter blushes, withdrawing his hand and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t worry, kid. Pep had her sign contracts before she even came. She can’t reveal your identity.”

“Oh. Okay then.” His smile brightens at least a hundred watts. “Did you eat yet? Mr. Barnes makes the best pancakes!”

“Does he now?” Bucky’s back is to you, so you can’t see his expression, but there are already two hot pancakes setting on your plate next to several pieces of bacon. “I’m going to gain so much weight while I’m here…” You sigh, actually not the least bit bothered by it once you bite into the pancake, it’s buttery soft fluff filling your mouth, the second bite revealing a tiny melted chocolate chip to add to the deliciousness. Flipping open your notebook, you scribble down a note: Bucky Barnes = wonderful pancakes. Peter sees it and ducks his head as he takes his plate over to where Shuri is sitting, the two of them bent over a tablet when you glance over your shoulder.

Everything is terribly domestic. Normal.

And you want them to enjoy it. Cause honestly, after all that’s happened, they truly deserve a little peace and camaraderie.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

”Okay, so is this alright?” You ask, settling a little more into the plush blood-red chair in Sam’s bedroom, his desk to your right littered with your notebook, your phone, the recorder, and several pens.

“Great. I’m good to go.” You pick up the recorder, clicking it on with a nervous smile directed at Sam before you began.

“Interview One: Sam Wilson, known as Falcon. Okay, Sam, please tell me a little about yourself?”

“What would you like to know?”

“Let’s just start with the basics - like speed dating.”

“I’ve never been speed dating.”

“Well, aren’t we the lucky one?”

“Wait - you’ve been speed dating?”

“Unfortunately. It was for an article but nothing really was romantic or fun about asking the same questions of men who aren’t looking you in the eye.”

“Don’t gotta worry about that here. Our mamas all raised us right.”

“Noted. Alright, so I’ll ask the nice fluffy questions first.”

“Working our way up to the heavy hitter ones.”

“Exactly. What’s your favorite thing to do in New York, besides save it? What was your childhood dream job? Favorite Disney movie? How do you like your coffee?”

“Eat. Man, I love food. They have a little gumbo place in Harlem,” He kisses the tips of his fingers. “Best Southern food up here. As for my childhood dream job - man, I love birds. I wanted to train raptors, rehabilitate them...or I wanted to be a chef ‘cause I enjoy food. All kinds. Man, I haven’t seen a Disney movie in ye -- well, that’s not true because Spider-Nerd made us watch Toy Story 4 the other day...but probably a tie between Fantasia and The Rescuers. And coffee? That I take black with room so I can add cream and three sugars.”

“Good memory skills. Want more difficult ones now?”

“Oh yeah, I’m ready,” He rubs his hands together with a smile spreading quickly across his face.

“If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?” His laughter is loud and boisterous, his hands braced on his knees before looking at you.

“Whew - went right for it, didn’t you? Are you asking everyone this question? Can I be there when you ask Cap and Bucky? I bet you twenty bucks that Tony says he’s thought of it before and he wants December cause of the gift he is.” You lean over and make a note of it in your notebook.

“I’ll take that bet. I counter with he doesn’t want to do one but he’d like to be July.” He extends his hand and you shake it firmly, mustering up a serious expression as you did so before settling in to wait for his answer.

“Man, okay. Uh, I think I’d like to be August. Not as hot but not cold either, with those pre-fall feelings. And I’m getting the tightest red shirt I own, along with my favorite pair of jeans. But I could be persuaded to dress sexier - nice fitted suit and tie.”

“Why’d you join the Air Force?”

“I just wanted to help people. And I wanted to see the world. My mom was okay with it since she figured the Air Force weren’t the first to deploy and that I’d be mostly out of harm’s way. But I enjoyed the regimen, the camaraderie I had with the other guys. But when my wingman, my partner Riley, died -- you, you know I just didn’t want to be apart of that anymore after that. I decided I’d get more out of life if I helped other soldiers deal with their problems.” He pauses, searching your face for something before continuing. “I met Steve one day when we were both out running. I knew who he was, but I also knew he was just like any other soldier who had come home and was looking to adjust - looking to find his place.”

“So you did what came naturally - you offered a sympathetic ear and some words for him to think on.”

“Yep. And, honestly, I enjoyed getting to know Steve Rogers. I think we have a lot in common, just morals and being a good soldier, but it’s more important to be a better man than all of that.”

“You really admire him.”

“Of course I do. He’s my best friend. I wouldn’t trade what I had to go through - what we all had to go through - to have it done any other way. I mean, it was brutal in some places, but I’d do it all again -- I sure as hell don’t want to, but I would.”

“May I ask why you chose to follow Steve instead of, say, Col. Rhodes? Both military, both having friends who sort of go rogue, both just wanting to do the right thing…”

“Rhodey and I are good friends, don’t get me wrong. But he had a lot on his plate: The military. Ross. Tony. Still dealing with the fallout of SHIELD in the upper ranks. I would follow Rhodey for a lot of things, but I won’t fight against any of the other Avengers again unless they’re mind-controlled or some shit.”

“Peanut butter and jelly or ham and cheese?” You ask softly, giving him a kind smile.

“Peanut butter and jelly.” He says with his own soft smile.

“Can I pet Redwing?” He perks up at that question.

“Yeah, come on, I’ll show him to you.”

“Maybe the suit too?” You tease, gathering up your notebook and phone, shoving the latter into your pocket before the extra pens you’d brought got shoved right along in there. You carefully pick up the recorder, holding it aloft as Sam holds open his bedroom door.

Once you’ve petted Redwing, letting Sam fly it around you. Luckily you were smart enough to stop at your room first for your camera, most of the time focusing on the light in Sam’s eyes as he looks at his little buddy before Steve and Clint come into the hanger, Clint playfully throwing a few rocks as Redwing dodges them, the three of them joking as they stand in a semi-circle and watch. All the while you watch them through the lens, happily snapping pictures before you notice Bucky leaning against the hangar door a handful of feet away. He looks like he’s a model, a small smile on his face that’s half turned away from you with one hand - his metal hand - tucked into the pocket of his black, worn-looking jacket. You snap a few pictures before he turns his head towards you, the smile disappearing. You snap a picture anyway before lowering the lens and smiling as warmly at him as you can. He gives a little nod before pushing off the door and disappearing around the corner.

Clint drags you to the archery range after that, carefully digging through his arrows as he answers question after question.

“Okay, Clint, last one: If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?” Clint snickers, his shoulders gently moving.

“Really? Well, alright then. I think I’d like to be January. And I think I want to be dressed in a velvet eggplant jacket with a black shirt and some black underwear.” You nearly snort when he wiggles his eyebrows and gives you a lazy smile, twirling an arrow.

“Boxers? Briefs? Thong?”

“I think some nice fitting briefs. Don’t want to make too many people jealous if I bust out my thong…”

“I certainly learned a whole lot about you, so thank you for that, Clint.”

“Anytime, sweet cheeks. Anytime.” He leads you back to the living room for your last interview of the morning before you all break for lunch. “Wanda! I got your girl here!” Wanda is standing by the hallway, a cup in each hand with a smile gracing her too-pretty face. She gestures with her head, her red hair swinging slightly. Clint doesn’t let you go initially, pushing his cheek closer to you.

“Alright, alright, Mr. Sweet cheeks.” You concede, kissing his cheek before watching him saunter past the others, tossing himself down onto the couch beside Scott with a chuckle.

“Good luck!” Sam hollers, making Wanda glare at him for a second before you follow her down the hall.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Wanda is teaching you a few words in Romanian when you emerge from her room for lunch.

Lunch is already laid out as you repeat “Nu, mulţumesc” until she nods.

“And that means?”

“No, Thank you.” You answer obediently.

“Now, combine everything.”

“Ce fasi! Mici sărutări pentru tine în această după-amiază. Nu, mulțumesc. Aș prefera să fac un tort.” [Little kisses to you all this afternoon. No, thank you. I'd rather have a cake.]

Bucky and Natasha shake their heads with a smile.

“And that means?”

“What are you doing? Little kisses to you all this afternoon. No, thank you. I’d rather have a cake.” Wanda chuckles out, giving your arm a loving pat.

“It was something my mother always said to my father. He said little kisses to us all and she said she would rather have cake. Y/N said it beautifully. Very naturally.”

“I am a wonderful parrot.” You smile out before Tony pokes his head in and whistles.

“Lunch!”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Bruce’s interview after lunch is filled with long pauses, his answers thought out and sometimes not what you expected. He takes you through his lab and then he suggests a short jaunt around the garden to finish the interview. When he excuses himself, you stay in the French-style garden, snapping a few scenic pictures and unwinding a bit from the interviews of today.

With four down, you’re feeling pretty perky about the whole series, trying not to think about the 25 or 26 more interviews you needed to do. Wandering through, your fingertips brushing over the perfectly trimmed hedges before spotting a few wild sunflowers towards the path leading into the woods. Carefully kneeling you take a picture, frowning as it’s just not quite right. You settle on your belly, one foot rising into the air as you refocus the camera and nail the picture you wanted!

You don’t even realize that Bucky is taking your picture as you grin at your camera, entirely too pleased with your results before you regain your footing and trek back to the compound.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You shoot for six interviews the next day, just trying to get them done before the Guardians, Thor and Captain Danvers arrive...Tony having casually mentioned recording a video group interview of sorts before you left. Which didn’t stress you out at all.

Not.

Hope’s interview was witty and broadening...how she described quantum physics (which just led to more questions) was outstanding.

Scott’s was quick-witted, dry and peppered with his pretty broad knowledge of electrical engineering, Captain America, and songs from the 80s. He was very open about his conviction and time in prison, his decision to be ankle monitored to be with his daughter, and how he feels all of this may affect her in the future. He’s an achingly good person and you add him to your “Protect At All Costs” mental list you’ve started.

Steve is stiff. He doesn’t see the humor in your calendar question (you have to show him the Australian firefighter one with the baby animals for reference) to which he begrudgingly requests the month of May and says a casual suit with flowers in lieu of a pocket square. You suggest him sitting slightly towards a camera, painting a field full of flowers...he seems to like the idea and it makes him relax a little - and you’ll have to thank Sam for that tidbit of information he’d given you. You ask Steve a lot about his life before Captain America, how he thinks it would have gone differently if Dr. Erskine had lived, and what he initially liked about the modern world. He tells you about art school and Bucky, getting beat up on a near regular basis in alleys all over Brooklyn, how he discovered Mr. Rogers’ TV show early one afternoon after moving into the compound.

Vision, on the other hand, doesn’t have a lot of life experience to draw upon but he’s a wealth of knowledge. He talks about JARVIS and ULTRON, the differences between the two of them and Tony, he talks about how DUM-E knows who he is and how loyal he is to Tony. He then shows you who DUM-E is, the bot jerkily “shaking” your hand as you marvel over how not just Tony has evolved but his creations as well. Do you coo how smart and handy the robot it? Of course. But it’s worth it to see the robot nodding as you talk about how smart his dad is. DUM-E then gives you a tiny circuit board before you leave, Vision remarking that he likes you very much to have done so. You scribble down a note to ask Tony if that’s okay that you have that.

Peter is your last interview before dinner, and holy cow, everyone in the compound is a fucking genius. Peter tells you about his web fluid, the neighborhood where he’s grown up, and it’s clear how much he admires Tony from how reverently he speaks. Their relationship, you notice, is a little more parent/child than a mentor/mentee relationship. It’s adorable with a tinge of awkward. Peter shows you pictures he’s taken swinging all over New York and you show him where he can get a Spider-Man ice cream. He asks you just as many questions as you do and you chuckle when he refers to nearly every movie before his date of birth as “a really old movie”. You show him a few Charlie Chaplin shorts to show him what exactly “really old” is. He, in turn, shows you Tik Tok videos that you both laugh over.

“Do you like serial killer stuff?” He asks as you both head to the dining room for dinner, tucking his phone back into his pocket, both sets of your sneakers squeaking ever so slightly on the expensive floors.

“I think most women do.”

“Why do you think that?” His little focused face is adorable, trying to link it up in his head.

“Women always think they can do things better. And they’re usually right, just to let you know.” He nods seriously. “We’re outraged by it but intrigued. Pretty sure women can get blood out of just about anything - I’ve gotten red nail polish out of khaki pants by sheer will alone. It’s different for everyone, I guess. But mostly I think it helps us to collectively learn how to plausibly commit the perfect murder while we drink wine from the couch and shove snacks in our faces. And possibly solve a crime in our heads.”

“Huh,” Peter’s brow is still furrowed but he’s nodding his understanding. Peter looks up to find Bucky studying you, and when you look at Peter, he’s just smiling. “Excuse me.” You nod, watching him high-five Shuri before you feel someone by your side. Dr. Strange gestures to your ever-moving seat, which tonight is between Okoye and Wanda.

“Thank you,” you murmur gratefully, not noticing the quick clench of Bucky’s hand as he moves around Strange to his own seat opposite Natasha.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Rhodey steals you after dinner, Sam teasing him as they disappear to his office.

“Come on, man. Just talk to her.”

“Shut up, bird brain.”

“She’s pretty nice. I was concerned she was just gonna go after us, with the questioning, but she eased into it and just didn’t focus on the darker stuff. She seems to want to get to know us as people.”

“It’s weird, huh?” Clint comments as Hope nods.

“It’s nice to be treated like a person. Not someone who’s infallible or holier than thou…” T’Challa remarks from his spot in the plush crimson chair across from them.

“Very inclusive, as well,” Okoye adds as Shuri and Peter come skidding into the room, Peter holding a tablet.

“What are you two doing?” Steve asks as he arches one blonde eyebrow high at the two.

“Nothing,” Shuri says smoothly, Peter nodding a few times too many when Tony comes into the room.

“Why is there a herd of deer in my hanger?” Both teens shoot off towards the patio door, laughing the whole time. “I don’t know what they did, but Redwing is acting like a herding dog with them, so you might need to go check that out, Sam.”

“Damn kids, I swear...I’m gonna need to squash me a spider…” He mutters loudly, heading briskly for the hanger.

“So, you gonna talk to our little journalist?” Tony smirks down at Bucky, which makes him scowl at the billionaire.

“I’m supposed to do that tomorrow,” He grumbles, making Tony smirk harder.

“You know that’s not what I mean, Tin Man.” Bucky wisely says nothing as he tries to calm his ramping up heart rate. “Even the kids have noticed you looking.”

“He has some competition,” Vision adds, smiling at Wanda who tilts her head slightly but returns his smile. “DUM-E.” Tony snorts, shaking his head as he turns away to gather himself.

“The robot? So the two are evenly matched then.” Natasha chuckles out, taking a healthy sip of her gin and tonic as she meets Bucky’s eyes.

“Nat, that’s not fair. The robot shook her hand and gave her a circuit board. He’s leagues ahead of Buck.” Clint teases, taking Natasha’s drink and taking his own healthy sip before handing it back. Bucky looks at his best friend, who is trying desperately to stop his shoulders from shaking with his laughter.

“40’s you would be ashamed. A robot who can’t talk?”

“Bucky Barnes vs a Roomba!” Shuri comments from behind Tony before making a break for it down the hallway with Sam hot on her tail. T’Challa, Okoye, and Bucky all point Sam down the hallway where she disappeared to when he comes panting into the living room.

“Now me is more inclined to hit your once-asthmatic ass for being the little shit you are,” Bucky growls at Steve, getting up from the couch turning to head to his room, only to freeze when he sees you and Rhodey standing by Peter in the door frame to the patio.

“Do you know there are deer in the hanger? And are you guys running a weird robot/human fight club?”

“Is that all you heard?” Tony asks, turning around and slinging his arm over the back of the couch with a smile flirting on his lips.

“We picked up the pace getting in here when we heard Shuri shout Bucky Barnes vs a Roomba. I mean, I’ve seen a raccoon with a machine gun, so that would have just been something else to add to the Weird Shit I’ve Seen list.” You press your lips together hard to keep from laughing at Rhodey’s nonchalant attitude and suddenly, Bucky isn’t as pissy as before. Well, he is - but at his friends - not at you.

Shit.

It’s been three days. Three fucking days and he’s smitten.

“Goodnight,” He says gruffly before retreating down the hall.

He’s nearly in his room, so he doesn’t hear you ask if you’ve done something wrong.

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Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr

NOTE: Found the pic online and edited it, props to Google and all rights/privileges/ownership goes to who took the photo and to Marvel who made up all these characters. 

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

Today

Y/N groaned at the sound of her alarm buzzing, rolling over to slam her hand down on the offending clock, hoping to hit the snooze button, but failed. She sat up and groaned, rubbing her face with her hands before rolling her shoulders and stretching. The blaring buzzer kept going until she felt herself loosen up to reach for her clock to turn off the offending sound. She sighed softly, swinging her legs to the side of the bed so she could get going on her morning routine: shower, hair, makeup, dress, breakfast. 

She rubbed the head of her cat, Jamie, before turning on the light to her en suite and stripped out of her nightshirt and panties, stepping in the shower and turned on the water. Anyone would think she was crazy to let the first thirty seconds of her shower to be the ice cold water waiting in the pipes before the water heated up to the scalding heat she used for the rest of her shower, but it was the way Y/N woke up in the morning. That, and coffee. After wrapping herself in a towel when she was done, she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. Years of worry and mourning etched itself on her face with lines around her slightly sunken eyes and weight gain that made it hard to believe she was still Y/N Rogers. She felt like she lost her identity when Bucky left her nearly two decades ago, not to mention the one person who she firmly believed to be her soulmate, but he either chickened out or he didn’t love her like he said he did.

“Should have said no to all those pints of B&Js, huh, Jamie,” she muttered, looking down at the cream colored Maine Coon, who was now sitting on the closed toilet, looking at her. “Is it a bit immature that I blame your namesake for this?” She gestured to all of her voluptuous body. Jamie gave her a low meow, his eyes closing slightly in almost a disapproving look.

“Yeah, you’re right. I could have had the self control,” Y/N sighed, giving her a few more moments of self pity as she checked herself over. She had gained almost a hundred pounds since Bucky left, her self care was pretty much nonexistent. Even if Bucky came back, he wouldn’t recognize her or wouldn’t even want her if they were to be soulmates.

With a heavy sigh, she moved to brush her teeth then dried off further so she could get ready for work. Two years prior, she quit her high demanding job and went into business with her sister-in-law, Peggy, who wanted to open her own bakery. The idea of trading in her three piece suit for just dress pants, a tank, and a cardigan was enough to say yes, and Peggy’s delicious baked goods was a great perk. Y/N slipped on her work shoes and kissed Jamie’s nose as she gave him his plate of wet food then grabbed her keys and purse.

“Be a good boy,” she called to the cat, grabbing the wool coat to combat the Brooklyn autumn breeze. “Love you.”

“Y/N, can I throw something at you?” Peggy asked as she came around the corner wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist. 

Y/N looked up at her sister-in-law, chewing the bite of turnover she chose for her breakfast that morning. “Sure,” she managed out before taking a sip of her coffee.

Peggy’s brown eyes lit up as she gave her a smile, moving to sit on the corner of the small desk in their small office. “What would happen if Bucky came home?” 

There was a pregnant pause, only the sounds of the oven and mixer going in the other room as Y/N stared at Peggy, the turnover halfway to her mouth. Before she could answer, the brunette went on.

“I mean, it has been eighteen years or so…you’ve moved on or you’ve pined for him.” She gave Y/N a small smile, but she could tell it was more of a smirk.

“Pegs, why are you asking this…now?” Y/N forced out, her throat dry and tight. 

Peggy just shrugged, taking the turnover from her sister-in-law’s hand and took a bite, her eyes moving to the right as she chewed. “I need to add more filling tomorrow. Why haven’t you told me this before? Selling underfilled turnovers?”

“Don’t—don’t change the subject, Margaret,” Y/N chided, her eyes narrowing as her hands gripped the armrests of her office chair. “Do you know something? Is Bucky back?”

A shrug was her only answer, Peggy already flitting to the door, but stopped to look at her. “If he was, I wouldn’t tell you. This is something he needs to fix and you need to come to terms with. If you were to see him, you should know what you want from him. And I, for one, hope you give him a piece of your mind and tell him off for what he has done to you when he left. He nearly broke you.”

“Peg—”

“Stop,” Peggy commanded, holding her finger up, “you need to heal from this. Be it walking away from him or fucking him on the couch. Again, that’s if I knew he was here.” She gave Y/N a small wink and walked back to the area where she created all her delicious concoctions.

Y/N had a had time going back to eating and finishing the books from the day before. She grabbed her phone and sent a text to her brother, asking for confirmation about what Peggy hinted at.

Y/N: Is Bucky home?

Steve: Why are you asking me this?

Y/N: Peggy said something weird to me today

Steve: Ignore her. She just wants you to move on. Stop pining for the asshat.

Y/N: I’m not pining.

Steve: The eight pints a week say otherwise

Y/N: You’re an asshat

Steve: And you love me. Now, forget about Bucky and get back to work. I need to get back to my run.

Y/N: Would you tell me if you knew he was here?

There was no response. Steve was probably back on his run and ignored any other notifications that would ping in during the duration. Y/N sighed and leaned back in her chair. How was she supposed to work after Peggy practically hinted that Bucky was back in town? And Steve never had a bad word for Bucky because they were both asshats that still communicated. 

She gave a heavy sigh and went back to finish the rest of yesterday’s sales before the bakery opened.

“A wolf, eh?”

Y/N spun around from the table she was wiping down to look at the man who spoke to her. He was a tall, built man with short hair that he obviously spiked with gel and had a close beard. Something about him was intimidating and almost unpleasant. His brown eyes held something cold and icy that sent a silent shiver through her body.

“I’m sorry?” Every bit of her wanted to back up to the counter and get Peggy’s attention in the back, not wanting to be alone with the unsavory male. 

“You’re soulmate likes wolves,” he pointed, taking a step towards here which made her back up to keep the distance. “Must be hard for you to find a mate when every guy out there thinks that they like wolves. But you haven’t found yours yet, have you.”

“That’s none of your business,” Y/N snipped, her body tingling with nervous energy. She didn’t like how this imposing man looked at her, his brown eyes not afraid to linger along her curvaceous and buxom figure. “I need to ask you to leave as we are closing, unless you need something.”

He took another step forward, his hungry gaze flicking up to her eyes. “Yeah, I do need something,” he replied, his voice low and dangerous, his face told her he wasn’t here for food.

“Y/N? Do you need help with chairs?” Peggy called from the kitchen, her footfalls sounding louder by the second. Y/N threw a small glance over her shoulder, relief washing over her. When she turned back, the door was closing as the bell rang. She rushed over and threw the lock before the stranger could come back.

“Hey, you okay?” Peggy asked, standing behind the counter now with a concerned look.

“Yeah, fine. Just a guy who thinks that since I don’t have a soulmate yet that he could help himself. You sort of scared him off.” She leaned against one of the tables and sighed, her arms wrapped around herself as she tried to calm down. “Why do guys have to be so…pushy or run away?”

“Not all guys are like that,” Peggy offered as she started to flip some of the chairs up and Y/N followed suit. 

“Yeah, you met Steve just before junior year,” Y/N retorted, her cheeks flushing and gave Peggy an apologetic look, which she waved off with a smile.

“True, but if you look at our class, most didn’t meet theirs until after college.”

“I’ll never meet mine,” Y/N grumbled and walked back to run a mop bucket and she remained silent as they cleaned, then she ran the numbers for tomorrow’s bookkeeping and started to count the drawer. She zoned out as she separated the bills and coins, noting amounts, before putting the profits in a bank bag and in the safe. When she turned around she gave out a loud gasp. Peggy was staring at her from the door frame with sad, caramel eyes.

“Don’t do that,” she glared as she grabbed her purse.

“You want me to walk to your car?” Peggy asked softly, “That guy really worked you up.”

“I’m fine. It’s been almost an hour, he can’t be around. I was just zoned out.” Y/N looked up at the clock and smiled. “Steve’s waiting. Go. I’ll be fine.”

“You still game for drinks with Steve and I?” Peggy asked with trepidation clouding her smile.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you are Sam’s.” Sam was one of those heartaches she encountered while she tried to move on from Bucky, even though she told Peggy she was fine about it.

“Text me when you get home. I know it’s still light out, but…” Peggy gave her a meaningful look. “See you at nine.” She gave Y/N a wave and exited the back door leaving Y/N in her thoughts as she fished out her keys and shut the lights off. When she left, she noticed that Steve and Peggy were already gone and no one was in sight, which gave her a sense of ease.

When she was half way to her car she heard other footsteps, making her look over her shoulder. She paled as she saw the man from before and someone else with him, both with menacing looks on their faces. 

“See what I told you Jack?” the unnerving man said darkly to his friend, making her stomach knot up. She hurried towards her car, hitting the unlock button. Once her hand touched the handle, a large hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around.

“Now, c’mon, we only want to talk,” he sneered, his other hand moving to her hip. Y/N tried to free herself from his grasp, but his fingers just dug in deeper and she winched.

“Careful on showing pain,” he chuckled darkly, leaning in to sniff her hair, “my friend, Jack, here loves when they wince and struggle. I, not so much.” His lips moved against her ear as he spoke, making her stomach roll and bile threatened its way up.

“Brock,” the other guy, Jack, groused, “it’s a parking lot. At least wait until we get to the van.”

“Aw, c’mon Jack,” the arrogant ass, Brock, mock whined, “I don’t think good ol’ Alex would care for damaged goods and from here, people would think we are just two soulmates who can’t get enough of each other.” He leaned in, pressing his lips to her lips in forceful manner and Y/N tried to push against him. His hand left her shoulder and moved to breast, groping her roughly as she screamed against him. He pulled back before she could bite him, his knee pressed between her legs which kept her from trying to knee him.

His friend’s hand moved over her mouth, glaring at Brock with a disdain. “No, he wouldn’t care, but we are here to use her to lure the зимний солдат out, and being out here is just going to make him see us easier.”

What were they talking about? She didn’t know who this Zimmy person was and why they needed her.

Brock scowled at his friend, who held up his hands and grumbled about waiting in the van, before returning to her. She could see the Jack guy job back to a dark van that was parked on the side of the building the bakery was in. Her heart was pounding as she felt Brock’s hand squeezed her breast, licking his lips while he ground himself against her hip. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes as dread filled her. She had a hard time focusing on what she could do that when she realized she could scream, his hand moved from her hip to her mouth.

“Oh, don’t do that sweetheart,” Brock tsked, his nose moving along her neck before he licked along the shell of her ear. He groaned when she shook with fear, the dark chuckle he gave just made the shaking worse. His hand pressed against her mouth so hard it made it hard to bite or turn her head. The man was a solid wall, immovable as she tried to push him away.

“That’s it, fighting only makes me harder,” he moaned, pressing his hips into her more. “Should just push you into this car and drive you to the docks. Forgo luring that ghost out and just fuck you until you start liking it.” His hand moved from her breast down to her slacks, popping the button off. Before he could go any further, he was yanked back and a sickening crunch sounded as she watched someone punch her offender in the face. The person who saved her was just as broad Brock the Attacker, and he wore dark jeans and a worn hoodie, long chestnut hair that was tied half back and a short beard. It took the mystery man kicking Brock in the stomach for her to finally turn around and get in her car, and drive away, not wanting to be around anymore. 

Y/N had a hard time focusing on the story that Steve was telling, her mind kept focus on what happened after work. She texted Peggy around the time she would normally get home, too ashamed to even want to explain what happened. It wasn’t like her sister-in-law would shame her, but she didn’t want Steve to know and open a report. Especially if her attacker, and possibly his friend, were seriously hurt by Hoodie Guy, who seemed content on beating the Brock guy until he died. Plus she only had less than two hours before she was supposed to meet her brother and Peggy for drinks, and she wanted to wash off every bit of the last twenty minutes off of her. 

“Hey, you okay sis?” Steve asked, his hand coming down on Y/N’s shoulder, causing her to jump. The events after work still had her edgy, and her reaction to his touch made his brows furrowed in concern.

“I’m fine,” she breathed, her hand coming over chest.

“You sure? Peg told me what happened today.” Y/N sent a glare at the brunette, who was conveniently conversing with their waitress about their drink orders.

“I’m fine,” she iterated, closing her eyes for a moment and breathed deep as she tried to calm her heart rate.

“Do you want me to see if I can find out who the guy is?” He was such a stereotypical big brother, ready to defend her when she needed it. 

Y/N shook her head and leaned against him. “I’m fine, Steve, really. It was just not expected, but I think he’s not gonna come back around. He was scared of Peggy.”

“Damn right he was,” Peggy chimed in, raising her brows confidently, “thought I wished you would have came out with us. The lot was sparse when we left.”

“I was fine. Nothing happened,” she lied, checking her phone so she could hide the shameful look she had in her eyes.

“Well, okay,” Steve said softly, “if you are truly fine. So, I guess I can tell you that Bucky called me the other day?”

Y/N’s head snapped up and looked at her brother with disdain, eyes narrowing and lips pursed. “No, you can’t tell me that, but you did. You know how I feel about him,” she spat, getting up from her chair. Before she could grab her coat a low, baritone voice called from a few tables behind her.

“Hey punk.”

Y/N blanched as she watched Steve rise and walk behind her as Peggy gave her a small apologetic smile.

“Jerk,” she heard Steve greet the man. She turned around to see her brother embracing a tall, wide man with chin length dark hair that sort of waved and set off the iciness of his blue eyes. Scruff graced his sharp jaw, hiding the slight cleft that Y/N knew was there. Steve draped an arm around the man’s wide shoulders, giving Y/N her first glance at the grown-up version of one Bucky Barnes, and she couldn’t believe he was that thick. He wore faded jeans with a tight black tee, that hugged his now enormous pecs, under a dark blue flannel with sleeves rolled up, showing off how muscular his forearms were.

God, the man was sexy and still familiar.

“You remember Peggy,” Steve smiled, his free hand gesturing to Peggy, who smiled and waved. 

“Steve, I made him breakfast this morning,” Peggy laughed and shook her head before grabbing her beer and taking a sip, giving Y/N a slight wink.

The words confused her. Last night? Was Peggy really hinting what was happening when she asked Y/N how she would feel if Bucky returned?

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m just being polite, your highness,” he retorted with a smirk before turning to Y/N, “and, believe it or not, this is my lil’ sis.”

Y/N had a hard time meeting Bucky’s eyes as she extended her hand to him, her left hand remaining under the table. Last thing she wanted was to have him know she was still unmated, unsure if she could handle the pity from him.

“Y/N,” he smiled, and Y/N could feel her heart practically skip a beat. He was dashing in every sense to her, but her brain was trying to tell her that she was mad at him, that he left her alone in the world without even a letter the last decade or so. He took her hand and gripped it firmly, shaking it slightly, his touch lingering slightly as he pulled away. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he said lowly, eyes raking over her in a way that made Y/N feel like squirming. God, she wanted to yell at him and kiss him at the same time.

“Wish I could say the same to you,” she managed out, hoping not to sound like she was winded. She openly checked him over as Steve stole his friend’s attention, admiring his build even more. He wasn’t scrawny back in the day, but he wasn’t this massive either. She didn’t know how long he stayed with the army translated, but with the way he looked now she knew he wasn’t doing any government job, so maybe he lifted as a hobby.

She felt a sharp kick on her shin snapping out of her thoughts of Bucky, her eyes looking at Peggy, who was the only one sitting down to do such an act. She glared at the brunette, saying everything with the look.

“Y/N, did you hear me?” Steve leaned in, his brow furrowing with concern. “Peg and I need to head out. Just got a call from Fury about a case and they need me in. She’s going to drop me off. You okay?” 

Y/N flicked her eyes at the enormous man and nodded, clearing her throat. “Yeah, that’s fine. Be safe. Text me when you get home, Peggy.” There was a slight uneasiness washing over her, feeling like she couldn’t trust herself around her old boyfriend. She really didn’t know what she would do. Yell at him? Deck him? Kiss him?

Peggy gave her a wink as she got up, Steve helping her with her coat before he gave Y/N a hug and a kiss to her hair. “I’ll be fine, always am,” he smirked. He pulled back and nodded to Bucky and left. Y/N felt out of place at the moment, her eyes refusing to look at him again, even though she could feel him staring at her.

He took the seat across from her, letting her feel more at ease at the space between them. She pinched her leg, wincing slightly, but still saw him sitting there with his charming, aggravating face.

“You okay?” he asked softly, looking her over.

“I’m fine,” she repeated the words from earlier, her eyes trying to look everywhere but at him as she was still 

“You aren’t fine, Lil’ Bit,” he started but she rounded on him with her finger held up and eyes narrowed.

“Don’t. You lost the right to call me that James Barnes,” she seethed, “You don’t get to leave me and string me along for two years before you decided to just go off the grid. Sixteen years since I’ve seen your face, James. Sixteen. It’s been nearly twenty since we’ve been together.” Tears pricked at her eyes and she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction to see her cry. “And now…now you waltz back to Brooklyn, and expect to call me that? You might have my brother fooled, and possibly Peggy, but not me.”

She stood up and grabbed her coat, nearly knocking over her chair when her purse caught and she growled in frustration as she straightened herself and started to head out. But Bucky grabbed her upper arm and she stiffened, the earlier events came flashing back to her. 

“You’re not safe,” he murmured, pulling her gently to sit in the chair next to him. She saw his eyes flick down to her wrist, the corner of his mouth twitched. It took her a moment to realize he saw her incomplete tattoo and shifted her coat over it so he could stop staring. 

“What do you mean I’m not safe? You’ve seen me for only a few minutes. Don’t you start thinking that because I am some unmated female that I can’t take care of myself, James.” Her insides were twisting but she managed to keep the aggravated look on her face.

It’s hard to describe the immeasurable joy pulsing throughout your body as you sit in a white dress, ruffles brushing the tiled floor. Your hair, the half not braided into a braided crown style, curls down and past your shoulders. The little glitter that had covered your eyelids had somehow in the midst of the dancing, fallen about your cheeks. Your best friend Bucky had said it made you look like a magical creature, a fairy or something like it. It reminded you of when you first saw yourself this morning, when every part of your look that you had picked out finally came together for the first time.

~

It was early. Far too early for your sleepy brain to comprehend the importance of the day, and what was to come. Your mother was hanging your dress on the door and bustling around getting the room ready. Today your life changed.

“Alright lazy bones. Time to get you ready for the day.” You groaned, rolling over to face her with droopy eyelids that barely stayed open. She chuckled softly while pulling the blanket off you before holding out a hand. She helps you to your feet and sends you to the bathroom to freshen up before getting started.

While under the cascading water your mind begins to play catch up with reality and you’re left with eyes opened wide and a nervous thump in your heart. Fuck. You were getting married today. Married.

Your mother was laughing at your disheveled expression when you emerged from the bathroom, hair dripping down your shoulders.

“Welcome to the land of the living, little girl.” You shook your head at her nickname for you but couldn’t help cracking a smile.

Within hours your hair is braided into a crown and the rest is curled, falling gently on your back and shoulders. The makeup on your face is a natural look with some light glitter on your eyelids and a burgundy lipstick adorning your lips. There were small flowers placed in the folds of your braided crown and a smooth, silver locket hung around your neck. Diamonds on your ears and lacey flats on your feet. All that remained was your dress.

The sweetheart neckline fit the curves of your breasts in the most flattering way and the ruffles that flowed from your waist to the floor gave you a look of elegance. You had never felt so beautiful in a dress, you were more of a leggings or sweatpants gal. However, you felt like royalty and yourself all at once. You couldn’t wait for Matt’s reaction.

~

Matt was wiping away tears when you had come down the aisle, with bouquet in hand. He was so nervous that he had stumbled through his vows and you had struggled to hide your giggling while he blushed crimson. The rest of the ceremony went by in a flash and soon the two of you had shared a tender kiss before walking back down the aisle as husband and wife.

Your first dance was the most intimate dance of your life. You had always thought it would be awkward, and though it was a little bit, somehow the room had disappeared and all you could focus on was Matt’s warmth and love. The two of you swayed along to Falling Slowly from the film Once. Bucky had shot you a few winks and made a heart with his hands, leaving you and Matt shaking your heads as you both chuckled at his antics.

Currently you sat at the long table with the rest of the wedding party apart from a few, including Matt, who were dancing to Feel Again. You tapped your foot along to the beat while smile softly at your husband, your chin resting in your palm. There was a sudden tap on your shoulder, Bucky. He had a small smile on his lips and he gazed down at you.

“Next slow song?” He raised a brow expectantly, practically beaming as you nodded in response. He seats himself in Matt’s chair while the OneRepublic song plays its last few chords and everyone waits to hear what's next. A familiar rhythm began to play bringing a smile to your lips, that son a bitch.

“Hmmm. Don’t remember adding this song to the playlist…” You raised your brows and narrowed your eyes teasingly. Bucky simply shrugged before holding out his hand which you take and he leads you out onto the floor. You’re taken back to the night you first danced with him to this song.

~

We get it almost every night

Your head was gently bobbing along to the song as you leaned against the wall, alone. You weren’t friends with anyone but Sam, who had served with your brother Tyler during one of his tours. Tyler and Sam agreed you needed out of your apartment, for something other than visiting your boyfriend Matt. They claimed you needed to socialize more. Code for need some friends.

It’s a supernatural delight

There’s a tap on your shoulder, you turn your head to see Sam standing beside you with someone hiding behind him.

“Hey.”

“Hi there small bean.” You rolled your eyes as a smile danced upon your lips. “Couldn’t help but notice you haven’t danced all night.”

“I don’t really dance much.” Sam smiled before stepping aside and gesturing to the man who had been hiding in his shadow.

“What a coincidence. Barnes here doesn’t dance either.” There’s a grumble of words that slip the man’s mouth, something along the lines of ‘I could probably still dance circles around you bird brain’. You chuckled at his remark and you could see a ghost of a smile appear on his face.

“Fine. Fine. Shall we?” You held out a hand to the stranger and he seemed reluctant to accept. “We gotta hurry before this jam is over.”

The pair of you were honestly working the floor. He had twirled you a few times and spun you out and back in, you had to admit he definitely still had moves. However long it had been, it was not long enough to erase the muscle memory.

As the song ends he twirls you one last time before heading back to whatever corner of the party he had been hiding in. You began heading toward an empty seat but another tap on the shoulder had you back on the dance floor with Steve Rogers.

“I’m starting to think Sam is trying to replace my boyfriend.” Steve laughs as the two of you slow dance to a Christina Perri song. “I’m serious man. He’s sending men my way, not having me socialize with any of the other women. It’s suspicious.”

“Well if you want to make a break for Nat at the bar, I think I can distract him.” You eyes lit up with gratitude.

“My savior.” You both let out a chuckle as you made your way about the dance floor. “Okay there’s about two bars left of the song so let’s angle ourselves toward the bar.”

Steve helps to execute the plan and you book it to the redhead that Steve had pointed out to you. She smiles softly as you approach, raising a brow expectantly.

“I’m here to escape Sam and his mission to keep me dancing.” She nods and pours you a glass, you thank her and strike up a conversation.

“I saw you dancing with Bucky earlier. You and Barnes were the best ones out there.” She had this knowing smile that made you shift in your seat.

“He seemed nice. But you should see my boyfriend Matt dance, most are surprised at how graceful he is.” You smile softly as you gaze into your glass.

“Oh yeah?” She seems to have curiosity written across her face.

“Why is that? If you don’t mind me asking.” Bucky was sitting on the stool next to you and you weren’t sure how long he had been there. He’s just so quiet.

“He’s blind.”

~

“Where’s your head space captain?” You shook your head, smiling at his goofy nickname.

“Exactly there. Up in space.” He chuckled as he twirled you a few times. “I was just thinking about when we first met.”

“That was the first time I had danced in over 70 years.” You eyes widened in revelation and he laughed as he shook his head. “Yeah yeah. I know. But hey, we figured out something Hydra couldn’t erase.”

“That we did. Muscle memory is a strange thing.”

You danced through the song and the next, and it was as if no time had passed between you. He was always on missions and you were constantly working a forensics case, neither of you had had much free time. Most of your went into the wedding and spending time with your, at the time, fiancé. It was at Tony’s parties that you could catch up and talk, usually hiding out on the balcony.

It was an unusual friendship but it worked. Neither of you were keen on talking about the past and so it was only scratched upon the surface. He gradually became your friend, someone you went to when something was wrong and Matt wasn’t home. He was your best friend and you were his. Neither of you would change it for the world.

Matt and Bucky got along, though they never got quite as close as they did whenever they talked about you. That, and boxing. Who knew the two shared a common bond over the sport? You certainly hadn’t expected it.

As soon as the third dance with Bucky was over you were desperate to rest your feet, and made your way back over to where Matt sat talking with Foggy. They both smiled as you sat down, turning to include you in their conversation.

At the end of the night Matt carried you bridal style into your hotel room before gently setting you upon the bed. The moon shined brightly in the starry sky as you and Matt helped one another remove your wedding attire. There truly was something supernaturally spectacular about the entire day and night that you would never forget.

~

“Smoothie? Banana and strawberry - got some blueberries in there too. A little protein powder to kick it up a little.” Happy is far too chipper for you this early, but you force a smile at him. It’s not his fault you slept so bad.

“Sure. I’ll take whatever.”

“Granola?”

“I’m gonna have to stop you there, Happy. Only one healthy thing at breakfast at a time.” You push yourself out of the barstool to look in the fridge nearly cursing aloud when you see the milk is gone. All three fucking different kinds. “Ugh. I guess I’ll have some granola, Hap.”

“Yogurt?”

“Yes, sir.” You look around the empty kitchen. Weird. Extra weird. “Where is everyone?”

“Steve, Bucky, Sam, Carol, Hope, Scott, Shuri, and Peter all went for a morning run. They should be back in about half an hour. Tony and Pepper headed to the Tower to handle some paperwork and meetings. Okoye is in the conference room with a call from Wakanda. Bruce, T’Challa, Vision, Thor, Rocket, and Nebula are in the big lab - doing what, I don’t know. Not sure I want to know. Quill and Drax are presumably still sleeping on the ship. Gamora and Wong are sparring in the gym with Natasha, Wanda, and Clint. I assume Strange popped out, but again, can’t say for sure. Don’t have a clue where Rhodey is either. Mantis, Groot and Valkyrie are walking the grounds.”

“Valkyrie?!” You gasp around a mouthful of granola. “When did she get here?!”

“Thor went and got her. Said it would cheer you up after the Incident to see the King of Asgard.”

“Aww. He’s too sweet!” Well, that was beyond thoughtful!

“Yeah, he’s a great guy,” Happy leans on the countertop, looking you dead in the eye, “So what are you and Barnes doing? Just ask him out. Everyone is betting on it happening and if you do it today, I get $500 extra dollars from Rhodey and an extra couple grand from Tony.”

“What the hell, Happy?! Not cool, buddy.” You hiss at him, shocked at his words. Not terribly surprised, since there was a building full of bored superheroes who all operate real money like a toddler with a fistful of Monopoly money.

“What? You like him, he likes you. I don’t see a problem. You two shared a bed, he’s been following you around and taking pictures of you, he’s got a nickname for you...the two of you are constantly brushing against each other now. I could go on…” He waves his hand in a forward motion, making you frown. Bucky was taking pictures of you? And following you around? And you hadn’t noticed either of those things? Had he been the one to take your camera?

“Thanks for breakfast, Happy.” You manage not to snap the words out and also manage not to stomp back to your room. But once there, you hover just past the closed and locked door.

What to do now?

You feel a need in your chest. Maybe you need the relief crying brings? And it’s this thought that makes you wonder: Is it the lack of sleep? Is it the back and forth with Bucky? Is it the fact you are seemingly so easy for all of them to read? How had you let this happen?

You let them draw you out of your bubble while mooning over the former Winter Soldier...

Your emotions were too over the place right now but you knew what you needed to do: finish up these interviews and get the hell out before you got your heartbroken.

Although you feared it was already badly bruised by this decision.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“Doll?” Bucky draws her out of her thoughts, your eyes just staring out over the empty gym. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been sort of out of it since yesterday. Do you need to, ya know, talk to someone?”

“No,” You give him a tight smile. “Just lost in my thoughts.”

“Maybe you need a break?”

“I need to finish the interviews.” Bucky takes your hand in his gently, his thumb rubbing along the back of your hand. He had barely seen you yesterday and it worried him.

“I think you need a break, beautiful. You were staring off into space and the only reason I knew you were in here was because I heard you sigh.”

“It’s just so much more difficult with them! And I don’t know why!” You flip open your notebook, pointing to the interview with Rocket you just finished, angrily jabbing at the offending page. “Rocket doesn’t remember where he’s from or where he escaped from exactly and he’s defensive about it. Won’t discuss it at all. Which is fine. Really!” Another sigh escapes you. “But every other question I ask he just scoffs at. Plus he’s throwing a lot of alien terms out when he talks about what he does, which I then have to have him explain. That just leads to him complaining and that just takes time from the interview.”

“Rocket might be better with someone like him to keep him straight. I’ll talk to Tony about it, okay? Did you have lunch yet?”

“No.”

“Well we should -” She withdraws her hand from his, Bucky’s chest tightening at the action.

“And I’m not hungry. Thank you though, Bucky. I’m just going to go find Valkyrie. Maybe she’ll be easier to interview.” She collects her things quietly, slipping from the room as Bucky sits there a bit bewildered.

Yesterday she hadn’t really spoken to anyone and he’d felt bad for not spending more time with her. They’d taken extra time on the morning run to help the vineyard owner with their vintage truck that had broken down on the road. And when they’d gotten home and showered, Thor had just been going on and on about his wonderful interview to Bruce, Scott, and Stephen. Bucky had shot the god a dirty look before clenching his jaw so hard he was sure he heard a pop.

Bucky had figured she would have already been up, about and ready to interview. And she had just one interview that day; Quill. 

He’d given her a tour of the ship and then they stayed on board while they did the interview - Bucky seated by one of the big windows closest to the patio forcing himself every so often to unclench his jaw and relax his fisted hands as he waited not-so-patiently for them to return to the compound.

He knows the Guardians are different than the Avengers, a little more avant-garde and rough around the edges - okay, a lot more - but he also knows they’ll do the right thing. Most of the time. And Tony has reminded him that he needs to trust them with her.

But he doesn’t want to.

He exits the gym just as quietly as she did, determined to track Steve and Tony down. You needed the Guardians to work with you so you could do a good job on the interviews. That’s when he passes by the conference room, your voice drawing him from his thoughts and making him pause.

“I’m glad with the results, Lina.” You have the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder, scribbling in your notebook with a little frown.

“No, Lina, I’m not going to do that.”

“Yes,” You huff out angrily. “I am aware I don’t sound like myself.”

“No! I’m not going to just throw in the towel and go home!” He watches you run your fingers through your hair before giving it a sharp tug.

“I will get through these damn interviews if it kills me.”

“I’m so fucking tired. My emotions are everywhere. Bucky just found me staring off into space. I need some sleep. I need a drink. I need to stop feeling guilty for badgering them with questions, eating their food and wearing the very expensive clothes Tony got me. I need something else but I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s not homesickness. I just want -” You pause. “I don’t even know what I want.” It’s a whisper, your confession, and it makes his chest squeeze tighter. He stops eavesdropping and continues to go find Tony and Steve, calling out to FRIDAY once he’s out of earshot, determined to make you feel better - like before.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Valkyrie is a blessing from above.

You honestly almost burst out in tears at her calm, concise demeanor and frankness.

She’s whip-smart, unafraid to speak her mind, and witty to boot. She offers you a drink as soon as you sit down, making you shake your head no. You really don’t need to drink in the mindset you’re in right now. Then again… No. No, better not.

“Were the Valkyries on Asgard anything like the ones written about here on Earth?” She snorts at your question, taking a long pull from her beer bottle before tossing herself into the oversized blue chair in her room.

“No, not at all. There are a few similarities, but we weren’t sewing and making bullshit tapestries of the humans ‘great battles’. We were warriors. When we weren’t honing our skills, training Valkyrie hopefuls or drinking, we led normal lives on Asgard. Our leader sat in on meetings with Odin, we helped patrol the city in times of uncertainty, we courted and loved...we were strong.” She leads off, looking away from you.

“And then Hela came?” Your words are soft, the look in your eyes even softer.

“And then Hela came. First, she destroyed my sisters, my family, my friends. Took everything from me. And then she came again. Like a ghost from the past, I had hoped never to lay my eyes on again.” She swallows before pursing her lips slightly, tapping her thumb idly against her bottle. “Only this time she killed our people and destroyed our home. This time she nearly took everything again. But Asgard is a people, not a place. And I survived to see her die, so I feel I was able to avenge my sisters in a way.”

“I think they’d be glad to know she’s gone and can’t hurt anyone anymore.” She nods once before leaning back in the chair. “To think, a lot of things might have gone differently if Odin had been honest.” Valkyrie snorts in agreement before taking another drink. “Asgardians seems to have some pretty big secrets.”

“That’s what happens when you live so long, little poet,” Valkyrie winks before shuffling down a bit more in the chair.

“I suppose so,” You raise an eyebrow at the nickname, agreeing to her words with a little shrug before diving into your other questions. Asgardians nickname you FAST.

Asking about New Asgard, about being King, and about what she misses most about her sisters distracts you from your thoughts of failure on your other interviews and from Bucky, who had been so nice to you, but hadn’t really tried to touch you in the last two days until just before in the gym. He seemed to be distracting himself just as much as you are and it slightly pisses you off that he still feels guilty over what happened. But the anger always dissipates nearly as soon as you recognize it, knowing you aren’t angry - but something else. If only you could fucking figure out what that something else was...

“Something you like about Earth?”

“Variety,” She says with a grin that has some flirty overtones, chuckling when your eyes widen ever so slightly. “Ya know,” She begins, bracing her elbows on her knees, “I could help take your mind off whatever troubles you, little poet. We can get Bruce or Thor if that makes you feel better.” She reaches out to pat your knee affectionately and while this isn’t the first time you’ve been propositioned - by a man or woman - this was the first time others were offered as part of the deal. And unlike the others, you don’t feel leery of Valkyrie. What she’s offering is honest and upfront, with no side agenda like the men always seemed to have. You were slightly shocked you still felt comfortable with her after she suggested that. Now you kind of wish Bucky would suggest that, but you know that would hurt your heart more when you had to leave.

“Thank you for that. But I don’t have sex with people I’m interviewing.” Her grin never leaves her face.

“That’s alright. I’ll ask again when you’re done with your writing and interviewing,” You can’t help smiling at her tone, so self-assured, feeling her hand at the small of your back as she heads towards her bedroom door with you. “I wouldn’t sleep with Thor but I think you’d enjoy it. Bruce, I might be tempted to, but I like the Hulk better, but I know he would see to your pleasure. But I know you’ve got your eye on the metal-armed super soldier.” You look at her, the question must have been crystal clear in your eyes, along with the shock of her talking about Bruce and Thor’s sexual prowess. “We all see it. The way you look at him, the way he looks at you. I find it adorable you are so shy, easy going and easily flustered. Not to mention attractive. So I understand why the Sergeant glares at everyone who gets a little too close, touches you a little longer than appropriate here on Earth.” Sort of like now...

“Thank you for the compliments, Brunhilde.” Her eyebrow arching smoothly with surprise. “Thor didn’t tell me - I just did my homework and guessed,” A small sigh escapes your lips after your victorious smile. “I thought we took a step back after the attack but I also thought he would make a move after we smoothed that out. But I’m still waiting. And I’m tired of initiating too. I-I-I’m just not very good at this.” You gesture between yourself and the closed door and then between yourself and Brunhilde.

“Don’t worry, little poet. I’ll help you out. You don’t need to do anything. We can give him the kick in the pants he needs.”

“But,” She drops her hand, lifting it to squeeze your free hand at your soft tone. “I don’t want him forced or coerced. I want him to want me and act on it.”

“And that’s what you deserve, little poet,” And she kisses your cheek tenderly. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::xxxxxxxxxx:::

“Alright, listen up, freeloaders!” Every head snaps towards Tony. “Apparently our new housemates aren’t treating our writer well.”

“How is that our fault? You all are the ones who tossed her outside to fend for herself!” Quill shouts back, pushing himself out of his chair to stand before Bucky growls at him across the table.

“Look, we aren’t at a damn cantina in space - so I need you to pull your heads out of your asses and for fuck’s sake stop flirting with her,” Tony glares at Quill. “And stop making her feel stupid for not knowing your space jargon, Mr. Build-A-Bear,” Tony points to Rocket, “or butting into others interviews,” Tony gestures towards Drax who looks to his left at Nebula, who rolls her eyes. “No, not her, Drax. You!” Drax points to himself.

“I didn’t interrupt anyone.”

“You interrupted me! How am I supposed to make a move on her when you’re in the ship butting in?”

“She isn’t here for you to hit on,” Scott clarifies. “She’s here to interview us. She wants to make us look human, make everyone see the sacrifices we’ve been through and you schmucks are gonna drive her to drink!”

“I agree with the Ant. She is too...chipper for myself but seems more than competent. More so than these morons,” Nebula’s rough voice disturbs the quiet after Scott.

“Okay - fine! I’ll try not to hit on her anymore and Rocket will try to be nicer. I can’t fix Drax -”

“I’ll try to keep them more in line,” Gamora agrees with a nod, tapping her forefinger against the heavy wooden tabletop.

“You should all be responsible for yourselves. Be nice. She’s nice to all of you. She was so excited you all were coming and so far her favorite person is Valkyrie of New Asgard. On Earth.”

“That really can’t be helped, she is rather wonderful,” Thor smiles at Tony who fights an eye roll. “Both of them.”

Bucky nearly snarls at Thor, gripping the arm of his chair so tight he feels the metal buckle beneath his grip.

“We will all be better behaved. Even if I must make them, Mr. Stark, sir.”

“Thank you, Mantis.” Rhodey gives her a nod. “Everyone go ahead and go about the rest of your day.”

They all file out except Bucky and Thor who are staring each other down.

“I am not after the little rose, Sergeant.”

“She’d be better off with someone like you. But I just can’t let her go, you understand?”

“I do. But she is already taken with you. She does not look at any of us, nor talks to any of us as she talks to you.” Bucky nods, releasing the metal from his grip and resting his hand on the table.

“I’m-I know I should ask her out but yesterday and today...makes me think that she’s trying to stop herself from getting hurt.”

“You won’t hurt her, Bucky. It is not in your makeup to harm her nor anyone you care about. You are more different than Steve then I realized, but I like it. Remind me of myself after I learned some hard lessons.”

“I’m glad we are on the same page then.”

“Oh, my friend, we are not on the same page at all.” Thor begins with a deep chuckle as Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. “I agree you might deserve her and I agree I will not pursue her now, but you need to make a decision or release her. Valkyrie and I both already have a soft spot for her. And are waiting eagerly in the wings, as it were.” Thor stands with a bright, happy grin, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “I’ll see you at dinner then!” And he walks from the room like he fucking owns it.

“I hate him,” Bucky mutters to himself before leaving the conference room in a huff.

:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx:::

Natasha comes into your room while you’re parked in your usual spot, laptop playing the opening chords of ‘All My Life’ by K-Ci and JoJo as you switch between typing and adding notes to your notebook.

“Did you find your camera?”

“What?!” You set your laptop to the side, focusing all your attention on the redhead. “You had it?”

“Yes. I wanted to see what pictures you had taken.”

“You could’ve asked!” Natasha pauses for a nano-second before shrugging.

“Sometimes I forget you are so open. With no ulterior motives.”

“Natasha, you honestly have no idea how much it hurts that that is how you live your life. Always suspicious.”

“It’s kept me alive.”

“I’m sure it’s kept many people alive. But what a terrible mindset to always be thinking ‘What do they want from me?’ or ‘What information are they after?’” You turn back towards the window, pulling your laptop back into your lap and staring resolutely at the screen. “Thank you for returning it, Natasha. Did you need anything else?”

“No, I suppose not. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Thank you for the concern, but I’m just dandy.”

“And you’re still a terrible liar. I just wanted to let you know that Rocket and Groot will be ready in an hour to interview. Well, re-interview for the trash panda.”

“Thank you for letting me know, Natasha. I’ll get on that.”

“Come see me afterward,” Her voice leaves no room for argument so you just nod, the door closing softly behind the redhead, the sound nearly covered by the sound of your heavy sigh.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Rocket is faaaar better behaved this time around - and that makes you suspicious.

Thor comes in about halfway through and whispers that he’ll review the recording with you later if you’d like to make sure Rabbit is translating correctly. You thank him, giving his hand on the back of your chair a squeeze. He then pulls a chocolate bar from his pocket and hands it to you.

“For your patience,” He says with a wink before leaving.

“Nice. Didn’t bring us anything.”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, ‘course he likes her.”

“I am Groot.”

“I don’t know - you ask her.” Groot looks at you, gesturing from the closed conference room door to you.

“I am Groot.”

“Yes, I like him too. He’s sneakily sweet.”

“I am Groot.”

“No,” Rocket chuckles. “Quill never stood a chance. She likes Bucky, with the arm.”

“I am Groot.”

“I do not have a problem! Mind your own beeswax!” Your sigh draws Rocket’s attention. “Sorry. Sorry,” He holds up his little hands in a surrender gesture. “I’m on my best behavior.”

“And I thank you for that, Rocket. I really do.”

“Yeah...yeah…” He waves his hand again. “Go ahead with your line of questioning.”

“So kind of you, sir,”

“Can the sarcasm, smartass,” He smiles - or grimaces, you can’t tell at the moment - but you do as he asks (tells). But not before giving him a mock salute and continuing with the questions.

“Describe to me, please, how you two met.”

“This one got himself arrested,” Rocket points to Groot. “I happened, through no fault of my own,”

“Of course,” You murmur in agreement.

“To be in the prison they tossed him in. They couldn’t understand him, so I told ‘em he kept asking what the charges were. They told me to shut up and shoved - well, shoved as hard as they could, but he went willingly - into the cell - wait!” He snaps his fingers. “What’s that word? It’s one of your religious-based words to describe an idiot.”

“I am Groot.”

“I agree with Groot, Rocket. He isn’t an idiot.” Groot nods while Rocket rubs under his chin, ears not as perked up as before as he thinks.

“Putty!” Rocket exclaims finally, grinning at you like he’s proud.

“Putty is a compound. I think you’re looking for the word putz. It’s Yiddish and I’m pretty sure it means dick, not an idiot. Yutz means foolish, I think.”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, Quill is a putz sometimes. You’re a yutz.”

“I am Groot.”

“I don’t know Yiddish, how am I supposed to know?” Rocket shifts his attention back to you. “You know more Yiddish words? Groot wants a word for informative.” Frowning, you reach for your phone, quickly typing in Yiddish words.

“I don’t see one a non-Jewish person would know...another word maybe, Groot?”

“I am Groot.”

“Confident,” Rocket supplies as you scroll.

“Chutzpah. Nerve, confidence, brazen, gumption.”

“I am Groot.”

“He said that works. He likes it too.”

“Good, I’ll grab a couple of Yiddish dictionaries and we can learn some words together.”

“I am Groot?” You look from Groot to Rocket.

“He said, even in Space?”

“Yeah! I’ll have to ask Tony for a way to talk to you in space since average people don’t have that tech.”

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, yeah - don’t worry, kid, I’ll fix you up with something.” He winks after he says it, sharp little teeth showing as he grins, Groot sporting his own toothy (bark-y?) grin at you.

“More questions alright?”

“Go ahead then,” Rocket gives a wave of his furry hand while Groot nods and settles more comfortably in his chair.

And so you do, with glee igniting in your veins once again.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Drax and Mantis’ joint interview is monitored by Carol, but Drax doesn’t seem to care about who is monitoring him, he just says and does as he pleases. Which includes leaving after he believes his part is done.

“Did you get what you needed?” Carol asks, draped over a black velvet upholstered chair sideways, tapping on her wrist device before pinning you with her intense gaze. You review what he’s answered, tapping the pen against the paper while you purse your lips and go over it again.

“Yeah, I think I have enough. He answered all the big questions...I can just pester him later if I need to. Thank you though.” Carol just nods as Mantis scoots a little closer in her wooden chair, a bright smile on her face.

“You seem much happier today.”

“I’m feeling a little better, thanks.”

“Maybe once you are finished with the hard part of asking us all these questions, it will feel like a weight has been lifted?”

“I’m not sure. This is the biggest project I’ve ever taken on. I think not having a break from the chaos just sort of exacerbates it since I’m usually pretty solitary once I’ve finished interviewing. Just get lost in making it as good as I possibly can. It’s been difficult to do since I have to keep interviewing. I get a break to do a sort of layout, but that’s it. I only managed to get Pepper’s done because it was just...pressing. It just poured out once I finished her interview.”

“Chaos is a good word for it,” Carol comments with a little smile.

“It’s not bad!” You clarify, a bit over eagerly. “I’m just not used to it.”

“None of us are used to it,” Mantis says wisely, hands resting so demurely on her lap as her smile soothes your nerves back down. “We are simply glad to be all together.”

“Without bloodshed,” Carol’s mouth downturns in a sort of comical way. “Mostly without bloodshed.”

“Which I think is appreciated at every family gathering.”

“Yes!” Mantis agrees with enthusiasm.

“Want me to get the murder sisters?”

“Nah. I’ll finish up the interviews tomorrow. That way Pepper can coerce all of you into the group interview Friday and then, um, I’ll leave on Saturday.”

“Now I feel sad,” Mantis’ face falls with her words, reaching out to pat your hand accordingly. Her eyes become more intense as she sifts through your emotions. “We will all miss you too.” You nod numbly, smiling through the tears. That’s when you feel two sets of arms around you.

“I’ll kick Stark’s ass if you aren’t always welcome here. With us,” Carol pauses before squeezing you and Mantis tighter in her grip. “Although we could always take you away to space…”

“You would love space!” Mantis says excitedly, pulling away a little to grin at you.

“Maybe my next vacation should be space. Got any good beaches?”

“We could find you one!”

“Well then, of course, I can’t turn down a vacation in space!”

“Name the time and we’ll try to accommodate,” Carol confirms, laying her cheek against the top of your head.

“No leaving me alone with Quill. Unless you want me to hit him.”

“I say we give the odds to fur face - he’d looooove to see you knock Quill on his ass.” You chuckle, relaxing in their arms. “And I’d love the payout.”

“Carol, sweetie, you won’t be getting a payout. No one is gonna bet on Peter winning. Everyone on the ship can kick his ass.” Drax’s deep laughter booms through the room, drawing all your gazes. He puts another handful of gummy bears in his mouth.

“IT’S FUNNY BECAUSE IT IS TRUE!” He bellows before shoving his hand back into the bag.

“Why’d you come back?” Carol asks over her shoulder.

“Oh, yes. The woman spider says the writer is needed in her quarters.”

“All good things must end,” Mantis says with a happy sigh, all of you pulling away. Carol hands you your laptop and notebook with a bright smile.

“Cheer up, Charlie.”

“Thank you, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory reference.”

“I do what I can,” She says with a lighthearted shrug as you all head for the door of the study that Carol had found a few days ago. You take a deep breath as you walk through the door, mentally girding your loins at whatever Natasha has planned for you.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Your patching all of today’s interviews together, trying to make it as cohesive as possible - prepping it for your rewrites and tweaks - after the two hour session with Natasha.

She had wrangled you into a massage chair, tugging your shoes off as a woman who looks like someone Pepper negotiates with daily, comes into the room with a giant metal case. She hadn’t given you an option, she had simply painted your fingers and toes in a sparkly midnight blue, with your middle fingers painted metallic gold. Not something you’d choose for yourself but, honestly, you couldn’t remember a time in the last few years where your hands and feet had both felt so soft.

And while the executive-looking woman had worked, so had Natasha.

Natasha makes it seems as if you are just discussing your life, but it’s an interrogation. A pleasant one if any of the other stories you’ve heard about her are anything to go on… She slips in tidbits on Bucky, what Steve’s told her over the years, several of those little stories making your heart clench. Natasha always makes sure to follow those up with more cheerful or funny ones.

You weren’t born yesterday - you know what she’d been doing. Subtly (or not so) talking Bucky up.

Running your hands through your hair, you try to refocus on the words floating on your screen.

You need to sleep.

Three more interviews. Just three more.

Jesus, where did the time go?

After the three interviews tomorrow, Pepper will orchestrate the group interview with your questions and a handful of submitted ones she somehow got. Pepper and Tony’s methods are like the various branches of the military since the 90s - Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.

Then you’d be gone. And it wouldn’t matter how wonderful Bucky is...cause he didn’t make a move. And you’re just as lost in your head as he is, second-guessing most everything...so you can’t blame him for not moving forward when you are just as hesitant to get involved in something too good to be true.

There is a soft knock, causing you to pause. Dinner wrapped up almost three hours ago, so you weren’t sure who it could -

Bucky, your mind supplies unhelpfully. You tell that nosy bitch in your head to shut up when lo and behold, in walks Sgt. Barnes himself.

“I couldn’t sleep. Do you, uh, would you like company?” You scrub your hands down your face, save your work and click the laptop closed.

“Yeah, I can’t focus on the screen anymore without going cross-eyed. What did you have in mind?” You lean backward, palms flat and braced on the plush carpet, staring up at the man before you.

And, dear lord, what a man.

You barely stifle a giggle as Whatta Man lyrics start flashing through your thoughts. Bucky qualifies for most of those damn lyrics.

“Whatcha smiling so big for now, doll?”

“I’ll have Wanda explain it to you later.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

“Because I don’t want to,” You pout, making him shake his head ruefully.

“Let’s get some sleep, then, since you won’t tell me your secret,” He holds out his hand, lips quirked in a crooked and easy smile. Taking his hand is easy, warm and safe, making you return his smile full force.

You move to the other side of the bed, pulling back the covers and shuffling under, only to be met in the middle with Bucky’s open arms.

“Tell me a secret,” His soft breath moves a few pieces of your hair before his fingers brush them back as you settle in his embrace with a soft sigh.

“My great-grandma’s step-sister was a nurse in WWII and so I grew up cuddling well-worn bears. A Captain America one,” Bucky groans good-naturedly. “A Dum Dum Dugan one. And a Bucky Barnes one too.”

“Not the whole unit?”

“Nah, her kids kept the others. My grandfather was the only boy out the bunch, so he was gifted Captain America’s bear. His sisters got Dum Dum and yours. And since I was the first grandbaby - and was the only one for about seven years - I got all three.”

“I can’t even believe any of those survived the war.”

“You and Steve did - God knows the bears were treated a whole lot better too,” Bucky snorts but tightens his arms around you. “Tell me a secret.”

“I don’t want you to leave the day after tomorrow. I want you to stay.” You pull away enough to look him in the eye, emotion making your throat tighten.

“What would happen if I did?”

“Dinner. Dancing. I could be convinced to throw in a couple of kisses,” You sigh over-dramatically, snuggling back in his arms.

“I don’t really know how to dance.”

“I could teach you.”

“For a couple kisses?”

“Holding you close is more than enough payment, doll.”

“Ah-ha! You say that now but once I’ve stepped on your toes for the tenth time, you might feel different.”

“Even my toes got the super serum. They’ll be fine.”

“Tell me a secret,” You try again.

“You scare me.”

“Bucky, I am the least scary person in this entire compound.”

“That’s what makes you the scariest. You’re the softest, most caring and gentle-hearted person...but feisty. Quiet but strong. All in this pretty and shy little package. All that adds up to a truly dangerous person.” You can hear him swallow, his heart beating quickly in his chest at his confession. “Tell me a secret.”

“I want to stay,” You whisper against his chest, a stray tear escaping from your eye to be quickly absorbed by the pillow.

“Then stay, doll,” Bucky whispers against your hair before he presses a soft kiss atop your head. “Stay with me.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

When you wake up, Bucky is gone.

You push down the unease at waking up to an empty bed before dragging your ass out of bed.

The shower is over quickly, blow-drying your hair lightly to help along the drying process before getting ready to plonk down in your customary spot when you pause, your stomach growling loudly.

“Okay then, breakfast before working today…”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“I am Groot.”

“No, flowers ain’t gonna help.” Rocket heads into the kitchen after Scott, Groot following behind.

“I am Groot.”

“He’s got a point there.” Bruce and Rhodey stare at Thor. “Oh, right. He said a puppy might work…” Thor nods as he strokes his beard.

“Help what?” You ask, startling the trio as you enter the lab with Valkyrie, Peter, and Vision.

All five of their gazes drop or wander upward to the walls.

Uh-oh.

“What is it?”

“Well, see, uh - we got a call about a small arms deal by the Canadian border,” Rhodey answers, leaning his hip against the table.

“Uh-huh.”

“So, um, Steve, Clint, Tony, Natasha and, um,” Bruce stumbles over his words, looking at Thor then Rhodey.

“Bucky,” You supply as Bruce nods.

“Yes. They all went.”

“They left already?” They all hear the disappointment in your voice.

“I am Groot.” Groot holds out a piece of paper for you, smiling softly down at you.

“Thank you.” You unfold the paper, noticing Bucky’s neat handwriting.

     Babydoll -

           It’s just a quick mission. We’ll be back hopefully by tomorrow afternoon.

           I’m so sorry.

           Just - just promise me you’ll stay until I get back.

           Please?

           Promise I’ll be safe.

           And I’ll owe you [1] good night’s sleep, doll.

            -- Bucky

You fold the letter, tucking it into your pant’s pocket.

“You need a drink!” Valkyrie soothes happily, shooing you from the room with Thor and Rhodey following behind.

“It’s not even 9 am!” Scott shouts, following behind with an eye roll and head shake.

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah. Hey, Bruce, where do we find a puppy around this planet? Is there a shop?”

“First off - I’m not sure about the puppy. Secondly - we do not shop at pet stores. They’re usually from puppy mills. Need to look at reputable places to adopt.”

“Good. Show us those then,” Bruce groans as Rocket jumps onto the table by his laptop.

“Fine.”

“I am Groot.”

“That’s true. He might need a friend to keep him company.”

“Dear lord…” Bruce huffs as he typed in local dog adoption places in New York before his face softens at all the little doggy faces that flash across the screen.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You’re going to leave. You aren’t going to come back. After this morning, you won’t want anything to do with them. Especially him. Bucky shoves the dark voice back deep down as he glares down at his plate.

“You look real nice in the mornings,” Quill says loudly around a mouthful of waffles, gesturing with his fork at your hair. Bucky bites back a growl, shoving the majority of his omelet into his mouth in one go.

“Thank you,” Your voice has an edge of curtness, but still polite...totally unnoticed by Quill.

“Of course, I’m just bein’ honest,” He continues, smiling widely at you before shooting you a wink, which makes Bucky snap his fork in half. He tosses it in the sink with a huff before grabbing another, fighting the urge to stab Star-Dumbass with the new fork.

“Listen, Peter, I’m not interested. Thank you for the compliments but right now I’m just not in the mood to deal with your whole ‘trying to get laid constantly’ bullshit.” Steve nearly chokes on the piece of sausage he’s eating at your words, T’Challa giving him a hard thump between his shoulders as he tries to hide a smile.

“Every time I think, well, I don’t think I can like her any more than I already do - she makes me. Go on, tell him how you really feel,” Sam’s warm chuckle seems to reassure you, Bucky watching your shoulders relax a little.

“Let’s hurry up everyone - the video photographer will be here within the hour.” Bucky nods at Pepper’s words, shoving his last forkful of eggs in his mouth and grabbing his shitty cup of coffee. Even though it was the fanciest coffee Tony could buy, it was crap compared to the coffee you’d been making him. You’d showed him how to work the machine but he knew it wouldn’t be the same.

He had talked himself out of sneaking into your room late Sunday evening. Of nuzzling an unheard apology against your shoulder before gathering you tightly in his arms, fully prepared to grovel come the morning.

Bucky knew you wouldn’t want him to grovel. When he had mentioned it in his mind, you had nearly punched him. He’d easily had kissed away the flash of anger, happy to soak up the ease he always felt in your presence.

Bucky shakes himself out of his dreams, willing himself not to think of the memory of your bare legs wrapped around his and your warmth as you two were pressed so tightly together.

Now you’re seated on the couch beside Shuri, plate balanced on the tops of your legs as you finish working your way through the huge pancake you have left, and giggling at a picture she’s showing you on her phone with Clint leaning over your shoulder to peer down at it too.

Pepper and Happy had wrangled you into staying an extra two days since the mission ran over, and she still wanted desperately to give you the video interview and glamor shots of all of them for your going away present.

Which Bucky wasn’t going to think about.

“Hey.” Bucky looks startled for a second before he nods at Shuri. “Do you want what’s left? I can’t finish it.” Bucky shakes his head at the question, but nerves kept him from really enjoying his breakfast. He watches as you lean back on your hands, the mauve shirt your wearing riding up just a bit above where your black leggings sat. Teasing him with the tiniest peek of skin.

He commits the image to memory, knowing you’ll be trying to leave on the jet when this interview concludes… He also knows that Tony, Steve, and the others will all convince you to stay for lunch at the very least. He knows you’ll accept - you’re too sweet to deny such a request. His sweet, smartass, torturous babydoll.

“Okay, the stylists are here! Remember to dress nice but not gala event/black tie nice!” Pepper barks as she takes the plate away from Rhodey, shooing him towards the small army of men and women standing just inside the living area as he sighs heavily. Bucky isn’t the only one to notice you slip Rhodey a piece of toast with jam, nodding towards were the trays of mimosas were on the counter with a big smile.

‘I love you, kid,’ Rhodey mouths, grabbing a flute of spiked orange juice and taking a healthy bite of toast as his stylist guides him from the room.

When the gentleman assigned to him came to get him, Bucky silently trailing after him, not noticing the sad, longing gaze you shoot him as you watch him leave.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Lunch is a lot jollier than they all feel, trying to send you out on a high note.

It’s lighthearted and full of laughter as you all drag out this time as much as possible, making you look around and finally take the time to truly appreciate the expensive wallpaper of this room, the actually silver silverware that glimmered dimly in the natural light - as if it doesn’t want to draw attention to its elevated status.

Your gaze has circled the room innumerable times since sitting down, each time slower than the last, soaking in every minute detail of the group of people around you.

Thirty wonderful beings sit around the long, long table around you - beings who had opened their lives, their pasts, and their homes to you in the past two weeks. They’d given you nicknames, built little inside jokes with you, and (mostly) given you their trust; knowing you aren’t going to use the information given against them.

You’ve caught Bucky’s gaze twice so far with your roaming looks, with each time more heart-wrenching than the last. You have so much you want to say and he seems to be trying to communicate the same to you with those storm blue eyes pouring out every emotion from the last two and a half weeks in their depths.

And you’re trying not to bawl from those drowning blue eyes fastened resolutely to you.

So you keep talking. And nodding along. And laughing...because, if you don’t, you don’t know what you’ll do. Yes, you do, you’ll break. Thanks, inner monologue!

You lean over the arm, showing Peter a TikTok video of a girl howling and her cat mimicking her, Shuri hanging over Peter’s shoulder to watch it before you all let out a little howl as it replays. Gamora is on your left side, Carol beside her, as Gamora whispers something from the interview - making all three of you burst out laughing.

You think about your purse, already settled on the jet, with your messy notebook carefully placed inside...basic stats were long forgotten in all the wonderful personal things you’ve discovered along the way. How Drax has a thing for gummy bears and chocolate pop-tarts. How Nebula tried to shoot Clint’s bow and almost broke it by pulling it back too hard. Pepper keeping chili chocolate bars in her desk drawer for a long day in the office. Peter talking to DUM-E just like Tony does, the three of them lost in stuttered conversations late at night. Rocket napping cuddled up under Groot’s arm in the garden.

“We’ll miss you,” Tony hides behind a tight smile after he draws everyone’s attention with his words. “And I’ve loved the emotion.” You can’t fight back the tears anymore, your lip quivering as you nod, nails digging into your palm to stave off the sobs.

“Big picture,” You affirm with a watery smile.

“Big picture,” Tony agrees as he gives you the most heartbreaking smile. By now, there was no more Iron Man between you...just Tony Stark doing his best by his adopted family.

“Boss, the jet has begun its standby. Ready for Miss Y/N.” The only sounds after that are soft shuffles as everyone seems to shift and tense at the AI’s words, reality settling even more harshly around the room.

“Thank you FRIDAY.” He seems to whisper, but it comes out louder because of the silence the room is ensconced in. “At least we added a few more AFI 100 Greatest titles to your list. Got you some new duds,” Tony stands up and everyone follows suit. “Got you a nifty new hair cut,” You can hear some chuckles behind you as you all head out of the mess hall. “Anything you’d like to let me know before you go, kiddo?”

You nearly run into Rhodey’s back as he stops just inside the hanger, dreading 30 goodbyes.

“Invite Wong and Strange over more often - I know, I know,” You hold up a hand in a stop sign. “Even if they decline. Gamora needs more fruit to tempt Nebula with to be less stabby on long missions and Nebula now, surprisingly, loves those chocolate-covered blueberries, so those as well. Gamora also needs a few more t-shirts since she loved the one I gave her from the store you have a tab at - the black, extra soft t-shirt one? Carol won’t admit it, but she needs to be asked to visit here more too. I know she’s busy, you all are, but asking is sometimes just as important as the actual visiting.”

“FRIDAY and I are making a list, don’t worry. Continue.”

“Steve and Bucky deserve a dog. There are more than enough people to help take care of it - take the stick out a little on the dog matter. Please. Make Clint drink something not caffeinated. And don’t make Natasha be the one to make Clint do it. Add a little salt lick or something out in the clearing for the deer. Don’t let Shuri attempt to hijack Redwing when she leaves, it’ll upset Sam. Make Steve eat a few Oreos. I don’t care how, but I would enjoy the video evidence. Go easier on Peter when needed, he’d trying to do his best and live up to you. T’Challa needs to let loose some too, go hang out in a giant donut together. Okoye needs some Starbucks delivered sometimes - the sweeter, the better. Have family-style dinners more often. Invite everyone, even if they can’t come. And get some fucking sleep, Tony.”

“Is that all?”

“Have Scott do your Christmas lights at the Tower. I’ll come ‘cause I know it’ll be hilarious and beautiful. Let them babysit Morgan more - she’s in the safest hands. Put a damn cover or grate or something over your incinerator pit!”

“Now, see, little miss writer, usually it does, per law. It had been emptied into the fields and hauled off to the vineyard and it hadn’t been put back before dark. Check that one off your mile-long list.”

“Just keep doing what you all are doing. And thank you, thank you all for everything you’ve done.” You fight back tears again, huffing out a deep breath, focusing on Tony before you. “And Bucky and Steve deserve a dog. Oh, and tell DUM-E I’ll write to him.”

“Noted,” Tony snorts at the DUM-E comment before grumbling, reaching forward to pull you quickly and tightly against his chest. “See you later, sweetness. You’re welcome here anytime.”

Pepper steps in when Tony steps away, inhaling a shaky breath as you wrap your arms around the red-head.

Wanda is next, kissing one cheek and then another before hugging you tighter than you were hugging her.

“Mici sărutări pentru tine în această după-amiază.”

“Little kisses to you too, Y/N. Take care.”

T’Challa wraps his arms around your shoulders, squeezing you gently before Shuri throws her arms around you as well.

“Say hi to Nakia and your mother for me, please.”

“Of course,” T’Challa agrees immediately before stepping away to reveal Sam, holding up a crisp $20 bill.

“You were right…” Sam grins out as you pocket the money before wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him to you.

“I usually am,” You reply with some cockiness, pulling away slightly before you feel his lips against your cheek.

“Stay outta trouble.”

“I was just about to say that to you!” You chuckle out before you feel Peter’s tight embrace nearly smothering you. But, you know, in a good way. “I’ll miss you too, Peter. Next time I’m here we need to go have one of those Spider-Man ice creams.”

“And I can introduce you to Aunt May.” He pulls away with a bright smile, making you cup his face.

“I’d love that, Peter.”

Scott steps up next. “Ya know, in prison, we got hit by the biggest, meanest guy as a goodbye. All in good spirits, of course.”

“Of course,” You agree with a serious nod. “But don’t worry, I think the girls like me too much to hit me.”

“Oooh. I see how it is. Praise my lighting skills and - well, I mean, you aren’t wrong.” A wiggle of your eyebrows makes him shake his head before hugging you tightly, giving your back a few hard pats before squeezing you.

“I just told Sam that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” He mutters before he delivers another squeeze, backing out of the way for Gamora.

“I know a couple of beaches...you finish up with these articles and barring anything stupid from that one,” She gestures her head to Quill who shoots you two an unconvincing ‘Who Me?’ look, rolling her eyes before continuing. “We’ll come kidnap you for a break.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll bring some fruit and some junk food.”

“Deal!” Drax bellows out behind Gamora, picking you up from the ground as he squeezes you before promptly putting you down. “Goodbye, author.”

“Goodbye, destroyer,” You boop his nose before Steve clears his throat behind him.

“Don’t be a stranger, beautiful.” You feel small in his embrace, digging your nails into his shoulders to bury your face against his chest, letting a couple of tears fall against his dark blue shirt before he kisses the top of your head and let’s go.

Wong is next, giving you a brief hug before stepping back and giving you a small bow, which you return with a smile.

Clint pops up, gathering your hands in his.

“Our time together has been so special to me,” You roll your eyes playfully. “Thank you for not being one of those rabid journalists and for always thinking of me in black thong.”

“It’s an image I will always treasure, Clint. And I’ve tried to be as unrabid as possible for you.”

“Marry me already.”

“Pencil me in.”

“Will do, calendar girl,” He concludes with a wink, handing you off to Hope, who runs a hand over your hair before sliding her hand down your arm and pulls you into a tight embrace. She doesn’t say anything - much like Pepper - just holds you in her arms.

Rhodey is next, kissing your forehead before tucking you into a hug.

“Thanks for everything. I’ll let the Roomba know you think of him too,” You sputter out a laugh, slightly muffled against his shoulder.

“I’ll think of him often. Maybe you if I have the time.”

“That’s appreciated, you little shit.”

“Thanks, Colonel. I try.” Rhodey scoffs, gently pushing you towards Quill with a stern look shot at the outlaw.

“I wish we’d had more time together,” Quill begins, his face soft and open, as he shakes your hand. “I see now you just wanted to get to know me. Un-romantically.”

“What tipped you off?” He moves forward for a quick hug.

“I love a smart-ass though.”

“If your hand so much as moves a millimeter down Quill…”

“Several people would attempt to break my hand.”

“Starting with me,” You chuckle as he squeezes your right shoulder, dropping it with a small grin to move aside for Vision.

“I shall miss you and all your questions.”

“I’ll email you some, just so you don’t get too sad.”

“I would like that.”

“Take care, Vision.”

“You too.” Happy is next, straightening his suit jacket as he steps forward, a soft smile breaking on his face just for you.

“Kid, you’ve been interesting.”

“I’m glad you’ve had time to come to terms with my boring nature, Hap.”

“Next time you’re here, I’ll buy you a churro,” You sniffle lightly against his jacket as he hugs you.

“Take care of them,” You beg, unashamed.

“Always.”

Bruce is fidgeting with something in his hand before presenting it, a little black box.

“Open it.” He gestures to the box, Rocket standing beside him with his arms crossed. Nestled in the box is a half glass sphere with a silver base, about the size of your palm as you cradle it in your hand.

“I am Groot.”

“Yeah, we used the piece DUM-E gave to you to help build it.”

“And this is for our language lessons and my interrogations?”

“I am Groot.”

“I love it! Thank you all so much.” You carefully hold it out for Rocket, who flips it upside down and shows you what to push.

“Red means we aren’t on the ship. Black means we’re busy, ya know, being Guardians or stealing,”

“Rocket!” Gamora hisses, frowning at him.

“And blue,” Rocket continues, completely unperturbed. “Means you’re good to pester us.” You kneel in front of Rocket.

“Bring it in, you yutz.” He rolls his eyes but complies, patting your sides in return.

“I am Groot!” He says loudly as he wraps his arms around the two of you, cradling you both against his chest.

“I am Groot,” You repeat, making Rocket chuckle.

‘That was completely correct, kid. Good job.” Groot set you down, Rocket climbing up onto his shoulder as Groot gives you a little pink flower and a smile.

“Thank you, Bruce,” You lean forward and kiss his cheek before his arms wrap around you.

“Don’t be a stranger. You can call us with that too. The yellow color will connect you to the lab - whichever one we’re in,” Bruce hugging you lightly then nodding.

“Okay,” You manage, fighting back another wave of tears.

“Goodbye, little writer,” Strange gives you a tight smile before he gives a quick hug, moving to make room for Mantis.

“I will make sure to call you. To make sure you take a break from the rest of the writing,” She beams at you before you two embrace. She steps away and Nebula is behind her, holding out her hand. As you give it a firm shake, she yanks you forward for a stiff hug and a rough pat on the back.

“I will tell the fox to send your calls to me about the fruit,” You hold up a finger with a bright smile, withdrawing a small bag of chocolate-covered blueberries.

“For you,” You lean in, “I also put some chocolate-covered espresso beans and dried mango slices in that compartment you showed me on the ship by Gamora’s room.” Her serious gaze shifts from your face to the blueberries and then gives a sharp nod at your whispered words.

“As you should,” She jokes, face so serious if you hadn’t spent most of two days with her, you might have missed it - which just makes you smile all the wider.

Okoye hugs you after Nebula moves out of the way, bag tucked securely in her grip as Drax and Rocket peer down at her goodies.

“Remember me and Olenna.”

“Wakandan sunsets are on my bucket list now.”

“And you will see it. Uxolo lube nawe, sihlobo.” [Peace be with you, friend.]

“Did you just call me a friend? Cause that’s the only word I semi-recognized…” She presses her forehead against yours.

“Yes, friend. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Okoye. Yomelela ngonaphakade.” [Strong forever.] She pulls away with a chuckle. “Hey - I tried! Was it wrong?”

“No,” Shuri says from behind you, “It was good.”

“Princess approved!” You laugh out as Okoye hugs you tightly.

Carol is next, her arms spread wide for you to walk into. “Cheer up, Charlie.”

“Give me a smile.”

“Let that sunshine show!” Carol skips a few lines as her thumbs come up to wipe away the few tears that have managed to slip out unbidden. But you do as she asks and smile through it all.

“Stop making her cry!” Natasha admonishes, tapping on Carol’s shoulders to cut in. She raises an eyebrow before pulling you close. “I’m gonna miss you,” She says this part loud enough for everyone to hear, leaning in closer to whisper the next part - so low even the super-soldiers wouldn’t be able to hear. You hoped. “You and Barnes are gonna be the cutest couple. Name your firstborn after me.”

“I already promised Valkyrie that honor,” You whisper back, watching her pull away and only catching the end of her eye roll.

“You’re always welcome here for interrogation and nail painting.”

“My feet are still so soft - it’s amazing!” Natasha shrugs.

“I know.” Natasha tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and goes behind you to join the others.

“My little rose,” Thor begins, his hug tight and bear-like, lifting you from the ground. “I am sad to see you go. Sad that we did not get to know each other better.” You shake your head at the drop in his tone.

“I guess Brunhilde mentioned her offer to you.”

“Oh, yes,” He confirms with a wide-cheeked grin.

“Both of you are little shits.”

“Oh, yes,” He agrees, the smile never leaving his handsome face, blue eyes full of mirth. You brace your hands on his forearms, kissing his bearded cheek.

“I’m going to miss you, warrior Pikachu of Point Break.” He groans before hugging you again, this one leaving your feet planted on the floor.

“My turn!” Valkyrie shoos Thor, kissing one cheek and then the other before cupping your face in her hands. “My offer stands,” And she fucking winks at you before brushing her lips gently over yours. Your fingers brush over your lips afterward, looking at her with eyes as big as saucers. Her laughter echoes in your ears as she hugs you, her grip is tight around you but comforting.

“You are the weirdest juxtaposition...but I’ll keep your offer in mind. Far in the back of my mind, but there.”

“Good! Come visit New Asgard, I’ll give you a grand tour.”

“Okay, okay - calm down, sister!” Tony shouts as Valkyrie winks again, leaving Bucky standing before you. Of course, he had to be the last…

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep the same without you, doll.”

“Ditto, Sarge. No sugar cubes?” He rubs the back of his neck before dropping his hand, biting his bottom lip.

“Nah, you’re sweet enough,” You move forward, nearly closing the space between the two of you.

“My soft, handsome, thoughtful, smart dumbass…” Bucky closes the rest of the space between you, metal fingers sliding around to the back of your neck.

“I’m gonna miss you so damn much, babydoll,” He whispers against your lips, his flesh hand cupping your cheek. His lips press oh so innocently against yours, a tightness in your chest as you sink your fingers into his hair and press his lips closer, feeling his smile at the action. When he pulls away, he links his flesh fingers with yours and throws the vibranium one around your shoulder. Pulling you as close as possible, he kisses your forehead and then the top of your head when you drop your forehead against his shoulder. “Safe travels.” He whispers before stepping away with a nod, hearing your sniffles as you hurriedly climb aboard the jet.

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2 WEEKS LATER

“What do you mean the Avengers jet is here for me?” You ask the person on the phone for what seems like the nineteenth time but is probably only the third. “I just don’t understand...aren’t they in Siberia or something?” Amelina looks at you quizzically as she comes into the tiny office space you share with two giant cups of iced coffee, slipping into your desk chair as she listens in. Nosy.

“No - I understand what you’re saying, I just don’t understand why? It’s been two weeks, we’ve only posted one interview after I left. Carol’s will be posted tonight at 7 pm EST… I just-just don’t understand WHY?” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Yes, I can be ready within the hour. Thank you.”

“Oooh - they want you back so soon! Well, I bet a certain blue-eyed soldier at least…”

“Yeah. Whatever. He hasn’t texted, called, emailed, hologrammed, carrier pigeon-ed...nada. The whole thing between us is the equivalent of Sandy and Danny at the beach. Summer lovin’. And now it’s fall.” You take the lighter colored ice coffee with the caramel drizzle, taking a hearty sip as you rest your rear against your desk edge. “And now I gotta go pack for whatever the heck this is. Jesus... I swear I cried the whole way home.”

“And the day after. And while you were proof-reading Thor’s interview before posting it.” Amelina ticks her fingers off as she goes. Ass. “While we were going over Carol’s. When someone sent an email about Pepper’s. When you were picking out pictures to go along with the stories...I don’t see how you have any tears left at all. You’re just so damn sensitive.”

“I can’t believe you’re still so blase about my anguish. What a friend you are!”

Amelina tosses her long black hair over her shoulder with an eye roll. “Listen,” She peers down at her watch. “You’ve got forty-five minutes left to get ready!” The traitor sing-songs with a bright smile.

You return her bright smile.

“Guess that means you’re holding down the fort again! All by your lonesome!” You chuckle before wrapping your lips around the straw once more, bending over to pick up your purse from under your desk. “Hasta la vista!”

“You’re a little shit, do you know that?!”

“It’s been mentioned!” You call over your shoulder, heels clicking down the hall with your thoughts running a million miles at the possibilities of what this means.

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When the jet lands at the compound, Bucky is a ball of nerves.

He’s been carefully planning since you left and it’s taken this long to muster up the damn courage to execute it.

The compound was mostly empty - operating with a skeleton crew - so Bucky didn’t feel as foolish standing in the hanger bay for the last couple hours letting his nerves suffocate him.

And when you step off the jet, it takes his breath away. God, you’re gorgeous.

He waits until you’re halfway across the hanger before stepping from his spot, smiling through the butterflies and moths fluttering chaotically in his belly. “Hey, doll.” Dear God, your eyes widening and the little gasp that accompanies it made his chest tighten.

“Your hair, Bucky! I love it!” Bucky runs his vibranium fingers through his newly shorn locks, neck and cheeks flushing under your scrutiny. “Is this - is this your calendar outfit?” He watched you take in his outfit. “God, you look even better than I imagined!”

“Th-thank you, gorgeous.” Bucky gestures you towards the door, following a little too closely behind.

“How far do I go?”

“All the way to the living room, please.”

“Oh, Bucky.” You were born to break him, he was sure of it. How you said his name - fuck, he was a goner. Bucky moves so his chest is nearly brushing against your back, inhaling the scent of your perfume like he’d been itching for it.

“I owe you a couple of dates. Some dancing. And a few good night’s sleep.”

“Is this how you treat all the girls you like? Show them some woodland creatures, make them cookies, reel them in with those big blue eyes, toss them to what you hope is safety, run off to go keep civilians safe, and then make a romantic dinner with all the trappings?”

“No. Most women will look at me but once they recognize who I am, they aren’t very interested anymore. And we both know - you aren’t most women. Plus I’m not interested in picking up any other women. Just my babydoll.” You turn to face him with those kissable lips pursed slightly.

“You know, Sergeant, speaking of picking up - I think I should pick you up and toss you into the trash bin, just to be fair.” You’re grinning when you say it, which lightens all the flutters currently in his belly and makes him automatically smile back.

“I don’t think you could pick me up, doll,” He chuckles out, gesturing towards the plush red upholstered chair closest to you both while he lets you lead.

“You don’t think I can pick you up?” Her eyebrow arch high as he shakes his head ‘no’ as he pulls out the chair and waits for you to sit before taking his own across the little wooden table. “Is that a dead rabbit in your mouth? ‘Cause you’re a fox.” His forehead furrows as he pours you both some wine.

“What - what are you doing?” He chuckles out, his eyes watching yours dance with mirth.

“Obviously I’m trying to pick you up, Sergeant,” You fucking wink at him when you finish saying that before leaning a little towards him, reaching for the wine glass. “Do you need more convincing?”

“Bring it, beautiful.”

“Was your dad a boxer? Because, baby, you’re a knockout.” Bucky’s heart stutters when she calls him baby, especially the way you say it, with your eyes twinkling but there is a hint of uncertainty there...one he needs to chase away.

“Can I follow you home? My ma told me to follow my dreams,” Bucky purrs out, watching her smile widen before her head tilts just so.

“Bucky - what is this?”

“Well, so far I got dating, dancing, sleeping...Hell - I’ll throw in some kisses too.” Bucky reaches across the small table, flesh palm face-up, anxiety riddling his thoughts now. “I wanna date you. I wanna cook with you. I want you to be the last thing I see before I go to sleep and the first thing I see in the morning. I want to hear you singing and watch you stick your tongue out when you concentrate on finding the right word or the right angle for your pictures. I’ll even pretend you don’t have ice cold feet in bed.” Your fingers tangling with his is pure magic even Dr. Strange couldn’t conjure.

“Well, are you going to come over here and kiss me or leave me hanging?”

Bucky nearly topples the chair he was just sitting in, in his haste to get around the table. His metal fingers feel cool against the warmth of your skin, his thumb stroking along your jawline as he leans in slowly, gently bumping his nose against yours before pressing his lips against yours softly. So softly. When you press against his lips a little more firmly, he takes it to mean more. So he gives it to you - his tongue gently pressing it against the seam of your lips, the both of you giving a little sigh as you open for him. God, you taste amazing. His other hand cups the back of your head, leaving you nowhere to go while he plunders your sweet mouth. Not that either of you has plans to go anywhere now. He can taste the tang of the wine and something he bets is distinctly you as your tongues meet, a soft groan escaping him at the reality that hits him just then. You’re his girl now. You press a hand gently to his chest and he reluctantly pulls away but rests his forehead against yours since he can’t bear not to be touching you right now.

“Stay with me,” Bucky whispers, barely pulling his face away from yours.

“You’re pretty good at convincing.”

“I made cookies.” He offers with a smirk.

“You think I am so easy?”

“I’m that easy for you.”

“Well, then...that’s perfectly okay. Sold, Mr. Barnes.”

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Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr @rowdyhooliganism @everythingisoverrated @iloveyouthreethousand-o6 @puddinsqueen @emotionallysalty @maraudingmarauder @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @transcendent-heroes @jotink78

A/N: Found the pic online and edited it, props to Google and all rights/privileges/ownership goes to who took the photo and to Marvel who made up all these characters.

“What changed? For you to take his help?”

“I was obedient. A perfect student. But I didn’t like what I did. I did it for the results they sought. I always accomplished my goal. I was broken. Broken and remade, broken and remade until I was what they desired.” She gives a harsh bark of laughter. “But Clint showed me there was another way. I have a skill set, he wasn’t asking me to live a lie - to go live a “normal” life. He was giving me a chance to save people instead of being a slave to ones who would never be concerned with me. The ones who had others to take my place should I ever fail.”

“So, you aren’t the only Black Widow Russia had?” You try to suppress a shudder at the horrible train of thought that brings forth merciless Black Widows and unstoppable Winter Soldiers.

“Oh no,” Natasha’s smile sends a chill down your spine and the terror, you realize, lies in the fact that everything she’s known before is death, pain, and the intricate ways in which to bring out about both. “I am the only Black Widow.” You nod jerkily before her smile softens and she reaches out to squeeze your hand reassuringly.

The sudden change in her demeanor is what causes your own to shift so rapidly. It sets forth a stunning revelation for you - she’s always wearing a mask. And that hurts.

It’s not like Tony, who has Pepper - who has known childhood and just feels things too deeply - so he wears a mask to protect himself...gives himself over to the persona he’s carefully crafted of lofty indifference.

It’s not Bucky, who had a regular childhood - as normal as one can have during the Depression, you suppose - who didn’t want to fight but went to war anyway. Who was torn and broken and wiped to be a weapon and now wears a mask to protect himself from everyone who sees him as the villain. But even he can always fall back on his normal upbringing for the first twenty-something years of his life.

Natasha had none of that. Absolutely none.

The sudden sadness comes from somewhere unknown but you feel it settle in your chest, a tightness that grabs hold of your lungs and heart, nearly stealing your breath away. What sort of people could do that to a child? Who could damage a person in so many ways for their own gain? Making them a weapon with the threat of always being offed if you failed. Everything feels heavy now and so you do the only thing you can; you turn your palm up and squeeze back in reassurance.

Natasha is amazingly open after that, suggesting a walk in the zen garden for you to finish up your fluff questions.

“I’m gonna take December. Santa Baby references all the way.”

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Depends on the day. Some days I need a venti caramel latte with three extra shots. Sometimes you just need a strong black coffee with a little room for some cream and sugar. Some days call for tea,” She shrugs as she finishes. “Just depends.”

Natasha is doing a rundown of the things in Russian she’d taught while you pack up your things from the cushioned bench, patience leaking from her very pores at your continued mix-ups. When she suggests testing them out on Bucky, you just shake your head - any nearly drop the recorder before shuffling your laptop from one arm to the other.

“I think Sergeant Barnes is a tough nut to crack. A solemn, mostly silent, tough nut.”

“Clint is a nut. Tony, an armor encrusted nut. Steve, a nut with the inability to long-term date. Bucky is not a nut. He is mostly silent, but that’s just part of who he is. A little solemn-seeming around new people. But Sam and him? Goofballs with a penchant for insulting and pranking each other. Give him some time.”

“That’s great, by the time I leave he’ll actually warm up to me.” A sigh escapes you, shifting your closed laptop from one arm to the other once again as Natasha and yourself make your way back to the living room from the very tranquil zen garden. You’ll need some more pictures of there for sure.

“Barnes is a softie at heart.”

“Is that so?” You jump at his voice, although Natasha doesn’t, which doesn’t surprise you with what you know about her. You’re sure little surprises her.

“Yep. See you later, Y/N.”

“Yes. Thank you, Natasha.” You stand awkwardly in front of Bucky, wondering why you get nervous every time he looks at you - not a bad nervous, but a strong tingle in your belly and chest that seemed to put you off-center.

“Ready?” You ask, plastering on a big smile.

“Come on,” He gestures with a tilt of his head, waiting for you to join him. You close the few feet and he begins down the hall.

“Where are we going?”

“The woods.” He pauses when he reaches the patio, “Will the woods have too much noise?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” You step off the patio and onto the grass. “You coming?” Bucky rewards you with a smile, a wide one that showed off his teeth with little lines crinkling by the corners of his storm blue eyes.

Once you reach the tree line, Bucky takes the lead, leading you to a little clearing and you smile when you see more sunflowers growing on the other side of the space. There is a couple of wrought iron chairs with plush black cushions and a little upside-down wooden milk crate sitting beside one of them. The chairs are set to the side in the shade and you take a moment to appreciate the serenity.

“It’s beautiful, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky,” He corrects, shuffling from one foot to the other before gesturing you forward. Settling down in the chair beside the milk crate you set your laptop flat on your thighs, sitting the recorder on top of it.

“So, just to go over how it’ll work - I’ll ask you questions, you answer however you like. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. If you don’t like something I’ve asked, please don’t hesitate to let me know you don’t like it. Is there anything you don’t want to talk about, Bucky?”

“You can ask me whatever you like.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way.”

“Every other news agency, pretty much, has already written the ugliest and vile lies and truths about who I was, about what I’ve done...From what I read in your articles, from what I’ve seen from the others you’ve already talked to, I know you won’t do that. Ask me whatever you like.” After taking a deep breath, you give a reassuring smile and click the recorder on.

“Are you an animal lover?”

“Yeah. Steve and me keep trying to convince Tony to get a dog.”

“He won’t let you?”

“He just asked who was gonna take care of it when we’re on a mission for weeks on end, ya know? He had a point.”

“But you aren’t all on a mission at the same time, right? Someone here could take care of it.”

“Good counterpoint. We told him that too. He said he’d think about it. Still thinking apparently. Maybe just got lost in all those thoughts he has.” You hold out the recorder, wiggling it until he held out his flesh hand. You place it gently in his outstretched hand, reaching into your pocket for your little notebook and pen. You can feel his gaze as you scribble ‘Bucky/Steve need a dog. Mention to Stark. Repeatedly if necessary.’ A chuckle escapes his lips as he had leaned forward to see what you wrote, leaning back in the chair like before.

“Favorite guilty pleasure?” You set the notebook and pen on the milk crate as you smile brightly.

“Junk food. The serum speeds up metabolism, so we can’t get drunk unless we have some of that Asgardian stuff, so I can lay on the couch and eat all I want and then a couple of hours later do it all over again.”

“And that also bothers Sam, I venture to guess?”

“Yeah,” He’s smiling wide again, looking at the grass at his feet. “Mostly cause it’s his.”

“You steal his junk food?”

“He hides it bad!” Bucky defends with a laugh.

“Favorite weather?”

“Spring or Fall. I don’t care too much for the extra cold days we get in the winter here, but I like the familiarity of Brooklyn and New York, even if they aren’t my Brooklyn or New York. What about you?”

“I got heatstroke when I was in high school, so I’m wary of being in the sun for too long now. Otherwise, I’m good with just about anything. But I gotta admit I don’t care for the extra cold days either. And the ice! I hate ice.”

“Taken a fall, I gather?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely wasn’t pretty. Bruise all up my thigh and butt from how hard I fell and slipped a foot or so down the patch of ice. Limped back through the snow with my butt soaking wet and a nice wind blowing to add to the chill.” He’s trying hard not to laugh, flesh hand pressed hard against his knee while those little crinkles showed themselves again. “Go ahead and laugh. I’m tougher than I look.”

“Oh, I believe it.” Bucky laughs out finally, nodding in agreement while you admire the carefree laughter he’s engaging in.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“I usually just get it black after our morning runs...the menus just look so complicated now.”

“They really aren’t, you just gotta know your baseline.”

“Like?”

“Well, like lattes, iced coffee and most specialty drinks all start the same way - espresso. Espresso, plus whatever milk you want then you just add the flavorings you like. Experiment until you refine what you like and voila! Done.”

“And all that isn’t complicated?” Doubt is heavy in his voice, a smile still plastered on his too-handsome face.

“I’ve had years to perfect this narrowing down strategy, good sir. Coffee became a big thing right before I got into high school, so that’s the system I’ve been working with. When I was a barista in college, we would experiment with flavorings and shots and milk types, so that helped too. Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes,” It’s almost a groan like you’d just brought out a decadent looking dessert.

“Does Stark have an espresso machine here?”

“Yeah. Big shiny silver thing on a counter next to Clint’s giant ass coffee cup.”

“Okay, when we get done here, I’ll make you what I like and we’ll see how you like that.” That seems to get his attention, his large frame leaning forward, the silver recorder looking small balanced in his palm.

“How do you like your coffee?”

“Humm, well if I want it hot, then I can go a couple of ways - white chocolate mocha with a pump of milk chocolate and a pump of caramel or I just get a mocha with hazelnut, vanilla, and caramel. Iced? It depends on the mood I’m in. Sometimes I just order tea. Sometimes I don’t want coffee, so I do a frappuccino or something like that with flavoring but no coffee. Depends on the day.”

“All of that sounded like a cavity.”

“Makes you want it all the more, huh?” You tease as he lets out a little groan.

“Yeah, it does.” You smirk, self-satisfaction written all over your face at his admission.

“Do you have a hobby?” He rubs his vibranium knuckles along his very sharp jawline before giving a little sigh.

“No. My therapist says I should get one but I haven’t found one I like yet.”

“Does it bother you when people call you the Winter Soldier?” It’s like he senses the change in questioning before you even open your mouth, his eyes falling back to the yellowing grass of the clearing.

“Sometimes. I know I was him. I know I was a tool. But now I know I’ll always be Bucky first, so it doesn’t bother me as much. The Winter Soldier is a part of me - a part resigned to the darkest shadows of my mind, locked away where he won’t see the light of day again - but he’s always there. I know they made me do all those things. And I remember doing them…” Your hand falls naturally over his, giving the metal hand a little squeeze and a soft smile. His eyes go from your face to where your hand rests on his vibranium one, a perplexed look before his shoulders drop a little and relax at the gesture.

“Anyone who knows what they did, can’t honestly blame you for what they made you do. And I’m sorry some people are uninformed assholes.” You take back your hand as he thanks you softly. “Do you think the Raft could hold him?”

“Maybe. Ross designed it to hold the Hulk but I’m sure given enough time he could.”

“This whole facility is full of geniuses,” You laugh out as he shakes his head.

“I’m not a genius.”

“Didn’t the Soldier shoot through a wall, several walls, to get to Nick Fury? That takes some serious calculations to be able to do that.”

“I was a sniper before…”

“Snipers have a clear line of sight. He didn’t have that. Now, that may have been him, but I don’t think so. You can’t brainwash someone over and over and over again and have them retain difficult mathematics in order to shoot through things with no clear sightlines. You’re a whole lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.” A pink creeps onto his cheeks before he looks across the clearing. After a few seconds, his intense blue gaze returns to you, nodding his head ever so slightly to the right. You follow where he’d tilted towards, taking in the sight of two big bucks easing into the clearing. You’re cursing the fact you’ve left your camera...wait, where did you leave it?

“There is a camera under the milk crate,” His voice is so soft you barely catch it, slowly nodding before sitting your laptop on the ground against your leg and drop the notebook and pen beside it, leaning over to lift the milk crate extra slowly. Withdrawing the bag, you ease the zipper open and withdraw a very expensive looking camera. You click it on and raise it, snapping a few shots of the deer eating before they both look up at the pair of you. Seemingly unafraid they come a little closer, Bucky rises, handing the recorder back to you before he takes slow and measured steps towards them. The bucks aren’t disturbed by him and allow him to come close, his flesh hand slipping into his pocket before offering whatever it was to the male with the darker coat, repeating the same thing with the lighter coat buck. You snap the pictures greedily, nearly laughing as you realize there are actually three bucks in the clearing. He must have heard you soft breathy laugh since he turns towards you and cocks an eyebrow. You point to the deer, then him and hold up three fingers.

The eye crinkles return as he shakes his head with a grin. The deer both decide he doesn’t have anything more to give and return to their grazing on the edge of the clearing, and you snap a picture of Bucky walking towards you and when he realizes it, he scowls at you which just makes you click the button yet again with a big grin on your face.

“What was in your pocket?”

“Sugar cubes.”

“Ahh, buttering them up for a while I see.”

“You know it, doll.”

“Wanna continue, Mr. Disney Princess?”

“I’m not singing if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“Damn,” You sigh out the curse before pursing your lips. “Okay, fine. I guess we go back to questions.” Waiting for him to settle back in his seat, you carefully zip the camera back up and are about to tuck it back in under the milk crate when he speaks.

“I’ll take that.” You’re about to hand it over when you pull it back.

“Promise you won’t delete the pictures I took of you.” His storm blue eyes stare at you intently, looking for something before he gives a little huff.

“Fine.”

“Any of the pictures of you, Mr. Barnes.”

Another huff. “Fine.” Handing over the camera bag, you hold the recorder aloft as you try to remember the line of questioning you had planned for Bucky.

“Do you miss the 40s? Did you want a normal life after the war was over?”

Bucky shrugs, sitting the camera bag beside his leg. “I miss my family. I missed getting to come home to them. I...I don’t know what would’ve happened when I came home from the war. I know I was different from it - even before Zola’s experiments. I wasn’t the guy who had a different girl on my arm every week anymore...and honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be that anymore either. I was different. Steve was different. The world was gonna be different when it all ended. I don’t know what would have happened...I guess I would have dated, found a woman I liked and had a kid or two...but I don’t know, maybe I would’ve decided to go off to be alone for a long while after the war.”

“Is Wakanda as beautiful as they say?”

“Even more. Maybe I’m just partial ‘cause I got left alone for big swaths of time, so I could sit by a little lake and just watch. Sunrise is beautiful, but the sunset...wow.”

“If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go - and you can’t say Wakanda.”

Bucky chuckles as you blurt out the Wakanda bit before running his flesh hand through his hair. “I guess I’d like to go to some little island with all the amenities but no one else.”

“No one? Not even Steve? What about Sam? How will you get your junk food if not from Sam?”

“Definitely not Sam, but I’ll be sure to make a list of the food I want beforehand. Maybe Steve, but he’ll have to sit downwind since he’ll have to be smothered with sunblock. I can think of a few people I might let on my private island, but they gotta bring something to offer me.”

“Like payment?” A good-natured smile is on your lips as you shake your head.

“Yes. Silence and beautiful scenery come at a cost.”

“And what exactly would one need to bring you to gain access to this island paradise?”

“What would you like to bring me?” There’s a glint in his eyes, something flirting on his lips as he waits for your reaction.

“Coffee. And you’d have to take it however I decided to make it that day.”

“Deal. You’ll be allowed on my island,” He gives a nod as he grants his permission, making you press a hand to your chest with a mildly shocked expression which doesn’t last long as you giggle.

“Soooo kind of you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?”

“Why would he do a calendar? Wear for it?” You withdraw your phone from your pocket and do the same thing you’d done for Steve; You show him the Australian firefighter calendar with each one holding or posing with baby animals for reference. “Oh.” Pink suddenly graces his cheeks and his throat as you smile at him, enjoying his obvious flustered state.

“As another example: Sam’s wearing the tightest red shirt he owns and jeans but could be ‘persuaded’ to dress in a nice suit and tie. He chose August. Steve chose -”

“Steve?” Bucky snorts out his best friend’s name. “Okay. Lemme hear it.”

“Steve chose May with a nice suit and tie with flowers in the pocket instead of a pocket square. But I convinced him to change it to him in just a tee-shirt and jeans, sitting sideways and painting a field of flowers in front of him. He liked that better.” Bucky’s shaking of his shaggy brown hair makes you think it wasn’t the oddest thing he’d heard about his friend.

“Always an artist, I guess.” Bucky bites his bottom lip, gazing off to where the deer had been. “October.” He says after a long pause. “What would you suggest I wear?”

You know it’s an innocent question, but your heart kicks up a little when he asks it. Especially after all the banter you’ve been through with him.

“What would you be comfortable in?”

“A hoodie and jeans probably.”

“I’d have you go out of your comfort zone then...maybe a gray velvet blazer with black jeans and a black shirt...maybe pull your hair back like when you were in the gym yesterday morning, maybe a blue silver shirt to bring out your eyes...no, the black. It’s October. Maybe tuck a Halloween handkerchief into your jacket pocket.” His gaze is intense and it’s your turn to look away. “Just a thought.”

“I like it. If you were to do the calendar thing, what month would you choose and what would you be wearing?”

“Oh, um...Probably October. I love the fall. I think I’d either want to wear a black skater skirt with black striped stockings and a mauve shirt with a cute Halloween saying on it while I’m surrounded by leaves and pumpkins or I’d dress like Velma from Scooby-Doo.”

“Scooby-Doo is the one with the great dane who talks, right? Velma is the one in the purple?”

“No! Velma is the one in the orange and burgundy with the glasses! Educate yourself, Bucky!” He holds his hands up at your hostile tone.

“Sorry. Sorry!”

“Now, back to the hard questions...what is some 40s slang you’d like to see come back into use?” He shakes his head again, flashing those pearly white teeth as those too cute crinkles show themselves again.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You hadn’t realized you had spent so much time with Bucky...not until Clint had come to get the both of you for lunch.

Bucky had mumbled an apology to which you brush off.

“I enjoyed it! And it helps me to build the picture I wanna paint for you guys. No biggie at all! I’m pretty glad you felt comfortable enough with me to talk that long.” He had walked beside you the whole way back, listening to you rattle off about work and how you wanted to set up the release of each interview with patience and a very kind smile that showed in those handsome blue eyes.

After lunch, you were handed over to the Wakandans who take you to a formal room that looked like it was only used for taking pictures with expensive friends and foreign dignitaries.

Holy shit. Down the fancy rabbit hole again...

T’Challa begins the interview with the opening of Wakanda to the world.

“Wakandan technology is far above the rest of the world,” He nods seriously at your beginning statement. “And you’ve made examples of people who have tried to steal your vibranium in the past - does this mean that you won’t be integrating even the most basics of Wakandan tech to the outside world? Or do you think we’re still too greedy to be trusted with that?”

“It can be seen that way. Wakanda has thrived because even though our tribes are different, we work together. Vibranium is ours. We, however, would help anyone who requested it. Shuri and the technology department have already helped a great deal with Nakia acting as an ambassador. We will continue to do so.”

“The suit you currently wear as the Black Panther absorbs energy, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“So could you absorb Thor’s lightning and redirect it? And the same with Carol Danver’s abilities?”

“Yes, theoretically.”

“So the shield that Cap has, could also - in theory, do the same?”

“No,” Shuri interrupts. “Because his shield was not made the same way as the Black Panther suit, thus could not hold the energy long enough to redistribute it in any way.”

“Howard didn’t have your imagination. Or the abilities Wakandans have to spin it into fabric. Does it take a long time?”

“No, we have refined the technique for so long it is very easy.” T’Challa takes back over, Shuri giving a little huff at her brother.

“I’ve heard that Wakandan sunsets are the most beautiful in the world. Mr. Barnes seems to agree. You three would be biased, but I’m going to ask anyway. Is it the most beautiful sunset in the world?”

“Yes,” All three say at the same time, each one has this shining look in their eyes, seeing it in their minds like it’s happening right before them.

“The way you all said it - the way you all look right now, it must be truly magical.” You wiggle a little in the chair as all three exchange glances, pen trailing down the notebook to see your next question.

“Sergeant Barnes was taken to Wakanda after the Sokovia Accords bullshit,” T’Challa’s eyebrow raises but he says nothing as you continue. “Why did you allow this? If anyone learned you were harboring the most wanted fugitive in the world at the time, there could have been serious repercussions for you all.”

“What could they do to a poor, third-world country that most people didn’t know even existed?” Okoye cross-questioned, her eyes so sharp you know why she was chosen to be a leader. She’s got a scary strength in her.

“Excellent observation. No one would look there. Is that why you let Steve in also?”

“I think by then we figured, we have one broken white boy, why not add another?” Shuri pipes up with a big smug grin. “But Steve didn’t get half the treatment that Bucky did. Bucky had to have family dinners with us. My mother insisted that if he was to remain safe once he got better, he would need some help.”

“What kind of help?”

“We, for all purposes, adopted him into the royal family,” T’Challa confirms and honestly, if you had a drink, you’re about 90% sure you would have spewed it all over your notebook and yourself.

“I’m sorry, wh-what??”

“He was given titles so that he has all the same immunities that we share as royalty and as the Dora Milaje receives as bodyguards to the royal family. That way General Ross could not have him arrested for any of his past crimes nor any new ones he could dream up to put on the White Wolf.” T’Challa smiles at you. “I guess he did not tell you that.”

“No. I honestly didn’t have a clue about that.”

“He probably wanted it that way. He said they are just words on his passport and papers. Bucky is very thankful for them and for all he has received, yet he has asked me to remove them when we feel that it’s safer to do so...He thinks he is undeserving. He has had to die many times for his country, for the world, so I feel the least I can do is give him those words.” Okoye nods at her king’s words as you try to fight back the watering your eyes seem to want to do.

“May I ask why do you call him that?”

“The children who lived nearby began calling him that - said his hair was shaggy like a wolf, eyes sharp like a wolf. Thus that was what they called him.” Okoye answers as Shuri taps at her phone while nodding absentmindedly along with Okoye’s words.

“So, I want to ask, should I break all these women’s hearts who are going to read this by telling them you’re off the market, T’Challa?” He chuckles, eyes downcast but mirth evident in them as he rubs a hand over his beard.

“I am. Nakia will be my queen one day.”

“Gonna woo her like a regular guy? Breakfast in bed? Flowers? Or do you have like Wakandan rituals you have to do before you can get engaged? Similar to the British? Like she’ll need to meet the Queen and get her approval and adhere to the royal duties and ceremonies...like that? Or does she already know about that since her father is the head of another tribe in Wakanda? Does she want to deal with Shuri all the time?”

“Oooh - fighting words!” Shuri grins out at you before sticking out her tongue, which you return with childish glee.

“He freezes half the time he sees her.”

“Aww, really Okoye? That’s adorable T’Challa! You must really adore her for your brain to sort of blank like that. I think that’s wonderful. Everybody deserves someone to sort of freeze up and just stare at them like they’re that important.”

“Thank you. I wish that for you as well, Y/N.” He must take in your startled expression since his smile kicks up a few notches before his phone rings. “Excuse me.”

“Of course, your highness.” T’Challa scowls at you before leaving to answer the call.

“I need to go,” Shuri whispers, eyes darting at the door her brother just exited through.

You can see the cogs turning in her mind. You honestly hope it doesn’t involve more deer. “Book it!” You whisper back, watching her dart out the door. You turn to Okoye. “So, how do those bead things work?”

Okoye begins going over the basics when Shuri walks back in, dragging her feet before looking at you with the biggest grin while T’Challa comes in right after her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Mother is not happy you managed to prank M’Baku from this distance.”

“She should be concerned, our future is in both of your hands,” Okoye sniffs before shooting you a smile, the smile disappearing into what you’ve been referring to in your head as her “business face”.

Shuri retakes her seat, before ignoring both of the adults and tapping on her bracelet. “You asked how these works?” An enthusiastic nod is all it takes for her to show you how their bracelets work before she overtakes the interview, showing you just as many memes as Peter did, and even leading the discussion on the school system differences between Wakanda and everywhere else. She talks about her lab, T’Challa putting on a show of yawning as she goes on, and you ask her about how she developed the Black Panther suit to store, and then use, the energy wielded against them.

“What about potentially dating? Would they need to be as smart as you? Would they need to be Wakandan?”

“If I had to wait for someone as smart as me, I would die of old age. That’s not important to me right now, nor, I think, anytime in the immediate future. T’Challa is King and when he gets married, he can make all the heirs and I can be in my lab showing them all the embarrassing photos and videos I have of him.” T’Challa and Okoye both look on with matching expressions of relief/humor. And honestly, you can’t blame them. If she’s pranking someone from halfway across the world is any indication, they all have every right to be worried.

Okoye has said little the whole interview, but each word is as measured and weighed as the words you submit for the blog. She knows her value and you have to sort of stare in awe of her for that. A fearsome general who would die to protect her king, her country and the world. She explains her tattoos, briefly, and what she doesn’t add - Shuri is more than happy to fill in while T’Challa corrects her.

“And that’s how her husband got imprisoned…” Shuri adds as if this is the least important bit about the closed-off Okoye.

“You’re married?”

“My husband asked me to choose between him and Wakanda. It was not a difficult choice.”

The epitome of He Wasn’t Man Enough for Me.

“You went straight up Olenna Tyrell on him, didn’t you?”

“If a man ever asks you a similar question, think of myself and Olenna.”

“That’s life advice if I’ve ever heard it, Okoye.” You agree immediately with the general. “We should have t-shirts made!”

Shuri is typing furiously on her phone. “They’ll be ready in two hours.” Your mouth is open. Wide. 

Again.

The power of a genius teenager with seemingly unlimited funds…

“You must be careful what you say to her…” T’Challa voices as he rises from his chair. “And for the record, I would not do Tony’s fake calendar.”

“He would. He would like to be February.”

“Shuri!”

“It makes it all the more real, you know - moments like this… What do you think he’ll wear?”

“Probably traditional Wakandan clothes. But if you had Nakia on your side, you could get him to wear just about anything…” Okoye shares a devious smile with you as she stands from her seat, brushing an invisible (to you) piece of lint from her skirt.

“Have a good rest of your evening. We will see you at dinner, Miss Y/N,” T’Challa gives you a brief hug, his spicy scent reassuring in a way you didn’t understand and didn’t care to think too much about since it was comforting. Okoye giving a bright smile before trailing after her king, heeled boots clicking from the room with authority.

It’s the most dynamic interview so far since there are three strong people who all love their country with very strong ideals.

“You and the White Wolf seem to be getting along better…” She has a sly smile painted on her lips, making you give her a little side-eye as you finish gathering your things, closing the door firmly behind you before heading with her down the hallway back to the hub of the house.

“I would assume so. Bucky is a lot…,” You search for the right word. “Softer than he lets on.”

“Oooh, its Bucky now, is it?” She gasps dramatically, a smile stretched like a Cheshire cat.

“Princess, I have something to tell you -” You turn toward her with the most serious expression you have mustered since you set foot in the compound. “I don’t think you are ready to do spy or fieldwork. Your subtlety needs some work. Like, a lot of work.” Okoye snorts ahead of you, standing by the entryway, making your own smile widen as Shuri scowls at you.

“Got time for me tonight?” Tony calls out from farther down the hall headed towards the kitchen.

“Sure do!”

“Perfect! Right after dinner, then?”

“Sounds good to me,” You shout back, watching him give a thumbs up before disappearing back down the hall.

“So, what did you and Bucky talk about? Did he tell you about his goats?”

“He did. Also mentioned a nosy princess who helped him too.” You walk past where they stop in the living room, headed to the patio where Sam, Steve, and Peter are all standing, T'Challa heading towards the men as they watch Shuri stick her tongue out at you as you go to your room to start downloading the interviews and adding to your notes.

“Just a few days and she already has your number, sister.” T’Challa chortles, Sam’s laughter echoing alongside.

“Shut up, brother.”

It’s the last thing you hear as you hurry to your room with a big smile stretched on your face.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxxx::

“Interviewing Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man and the face of Stark Industries. Now, Tony, would you like to start with the fluff questions or get straight down to it?”

“Let’s save the fluff for the end, huh?” You swallow hard at his words, a tight smile dancing across his lips before disappearing. Settling a bit more into the dark brown leather chair of his office, you nod before glancing down at your list of questions.

“What was your ultimate reason behind pushing for the Accords?”

“I know we needed to be checked...held accountable if things went bad. I felt we could always go in and amend it later, but I saw what Ultron did, first hand and without Fury and SHIELD...who was gonna be able to hold us accountable?”

“But what led to the Accords was Sokovia, but the catalyst was Zemo posing as Bucky for the bombing, correct?”

“Essentially, yes. But even SHIELD answered to a higher authority.”

“And look what happened to SHIELD,” You counter, eyes just as sharp as Tony’s in the well-lit office. He sighs and you can see him working out where this is going, what question is next. “I don’t think that people who hide their faces should be trusted with the security of the world’s fate. But I don’t think you were wrong when you said you see a shield of iron protecting the world, but I think you need to see that the Avengers, the Guardians of the Galaxy...these are that suit of armor you wanted. People who have power but have never had to work for it -- sacrifice for it -- see others die because of it -- they honestly have no right to tell you if you’re in the wrong. You guys are the only ones who can.” Tony drags his fingers along his desktop before reaching for his amber drink. “I’ve seen your building acquirement. I know you spearhead the cleanups. I know you have bought buildings that have been damaged by not just the Avengers, but by HYDRA, the mafia, insurgents in the Middle East, and Yakuza. I’ve read other interviews with you - before and after your kidnapping. What happened to you in that cave and what happened to you when you pushed that nuke through that hole in the sky, they changed you, Tony. For the better, I believe.”

“You sound so...convinced.”

“And you aren’t? I’m as convinced you are a truly wonderful person, superhero, husband and father as you are convinced that Spider-Man is going to be the very best version of the Avengers you know he can be.”

“That’s a lot,” You can hear the emotion in Tony’s voice and you give him a watery smile in return.

“Do you think people should know about the existence of the Raft?”

“Look, that-it-it all boils down to secrecy. It boils down to some Area 51-esque shit. Should the nice lady working the night shift at the diner know? What would it change for her? Not a lot. It would just give people another reason to argue - give politicians another crusade to go after that will never have to produce actual fucking results and keeps everyone from going after the real problems we’re facing.” The frown he’s sporting makes you think you should have skipped that question, but the quickness with which he’s answering makes you think he isn’t exactly the Raft’s biggest fan either. “So, I’ll have to simply say that: Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit. But right now, the chickenshit is needed. Especially after the Snap, the Blip, whatever the fuck they call it...normalcy is what everyone is craving and it’s what they should have right now.”

“What sort of jelly do you use on yours and Morgan’s pb and js?”

“Strawberry preserves usually.” The tenseness seems to seep away a little, but you see you need to coax his mind to slow down a little more.

“Bowling or mini-golf?”

“Mini-golf.”

“Bubble bath or shower?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a bubble bath to relax. Showers are for getting clean.”

“So what do you do to relax?”

“Not a whole damn lot to be honest. I-I can’t seem to shut it off most days.” His fingers dance around the rim of his almost empty tumbler. “Mostly I push things aside to deal with them later so I can be in the moment as much as possible with Morgan and Pepper.”

“Craziest thing she’d done so far?”

“Pep and I went out for a date night. Left her at the Tower with Steve, Natasha, Sam, Clint, Bucky, and Peter. Come home and a) she’s still awake and b) she’s hanging from the damn ceiling with Peter while Bucky shoots Nerf darts at the both of them while Steve cleans up all the scattered toys and was shouting that she needs to get to bed not be more riled up when we get home.” The softest smile is dancing on his lips, his eyes full of love and you know it’s not just for Morgan. “Morgan was squealing with joy, so I couldn’t really get angry. Especially when I saw Peter had layered his web fluid so if they fell or slipped, there was webbing about every two feet as a precaution. Plus they had the mats from the gym on the living room floor and Clint was sitting on the countertop, using those eagle-eyed peepers.”

“Craziest thing before that?”

“Last Christmas when Steve took her sledding down one of the hills in the compound, which turned into sled racing when Rocket and Thor got involved. Pep didn’t care for that. We built some bumps to be like a brake system the next morning. She still didn’t like it too much.”

You learn Morgan also likes it when Thor makes her hair stand on end and Groot gives her flowers.

“She’s with Pep’s mom and dad in California for a couple of weeks since they just got back from a cruise and haven’t seen her in a while. I miss her. Facetiming every day just doesn’t cut it.”

“Starting to get a little itchy - ready for her to get home. I get that. I adore my cousin’s children. Been around them nearly every day of their lives the first year. Then she moved to Idaho for a job and I didn’t get to see them again until they were almost two. She visits more often now, I’ve seen them every two weeks for the last four months. It’s hectic - but I love it when there are toys, crayons, and blankets scattered everywhere in my living room. When they leave, man, I swear I sleep for a whole day then just sort of sit around looking at the cleanliness with a little bit of disdain.”

“Luckily I have you lot to make a mess, so it doesn’t seem so bad right now.”

“Well,” you laugh, “That’s certainly one way to look at it. Okay, ready for more of the fluff?”

“Bring it.”

“How do you handle a bad hair day?”

“I’ve never had one in my life. Next question.”

“Okay, if you were to do a superhero calendar, which month would you be and what would you be wearing for it?” Tony shakes a finger at you, grinning.

“See, Rhodey told me about this question, so I’ve had some time to think about it...I’d say I would like to be June or July, what did Cap choose?”

“May.”

“July then. AC/DC shirt with a jacket and jeans, holding on of the older Iron Man masks under one arm. Fireworks in the background, maybe holding the shield. Really sell it, ya know.”

“If it was just you, no showing off...just something nice for Pepper.”

“September. It’s when we got married. What about you?”

“October.”

“Costume or regular clothes?”

“Depends on the photographer and how I’m feeling, I guess. Ideally, both. The favorite as the big picture and the other in the bottom corner or something.”

“You’ve had time to figure out your answer too, huh?”

“Sixteen interviews.”

“Sixteen? That doesn’t seem right.”

“Sam, Clint, Wanda, Bruce, Hope, Scott, Steve, Vision, Peter, and Rhodey. Natasha, Bucky, Shuri, T’Challa, Okoye, and you. Sixteen.”

“In four days. Like speed dating for a writer.”

“That’s what I told Sam!”

Tony walks you back to your room, discussing his favorite snacks, telling you what Monte Carlo is actually like before suggesting you go there on vacation with the dirtiest smirk you have ever witnessed first-hand. He then offers to let you try out a suit when Steve goes for his run tomorrow morning, which you feel a flutter of hope that you actually do get to do something like that.

He gives you a tender pat on your forearm when he says goodnight, leaving while whistling what you’re sure is ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ by Billie Holiday.

You stay up for a few hours over what you should, furiously typing up your interview with Tony when Amelina finally texts you the gif of Kermit on the typewriter with the words “GO TO SLEEP!” immediately under it. You sigh, rubbing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose, but you do as she bids, texting her first that she needs to get her ass to bed too. You finish it up with “Stalker” with the eyeball emoji. Shuffling into your pajamas and letting the plush bedding swallow and comfort you, mind still thinking of all the things you need to add to the interview piece.

And that’s how you drift off, thinking of a shield of Iron Man armor drifting around the Earth.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Someone is in your room far too early for your liking, poking you awake then ordering you into the bathroom. You sleepily realize it’s Tony before stumbling to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and managing to hop/change into a pair of black leggings with constellations all over and a dark gray t-shirt before returning to the bedroom.

“Don’t give me the glare pout. I brought coffee.” Tony has socks and shoes laid out for you and when you raise an eyebrow at him, he just shrugs then taps his wrist where a watch would be. Slipping into the shoes and socks as quickly as possible, he hands you a tall ceramic mug, bidding you to follow him quickly and quietly down the hallway towards his workshop.

When you get in, you see one of the earlier suits standing in the middle of the room and the butterflies in your stomach turn to little stones that sink and pile up when realizing what you’re about to do. The sweet coffee doesn’t help now that reality settles in. Are you really gonna do this?!

“Scared?” You can’t even manage words right now, so you just nod. “Good. Healthy. Smart, even.” He touches it, the suit open beneath his fingertips like a mechanical flower. “Come on,” He eggs. “FRIDAY and I are here to keep you safe.” You nod again, nerves or not eating breakfast - you aren’t sure which it is - is making you feel the first tendrils of nausea. “You don’t have to.” Tony offers the out, studying you carefully.

“No, I want to.” He helps you into the suit and just as it closes you hear him ask if you’re claustrophobic. 

“Maybe you should have led with that Tony!” Thankfully, though, you aren’t - well not with this you don’t seem to be. It is close around your body, but it’s not a crushing, tight sort of feeling you would associate with claustrophobia.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes. Did you just hear me yell at you?”

“Yes, but I ignored it.” You can see him move to stand directly before you. “Perfect. Wanna try walking first. Careful steps first so you don’t damage my floors.”

“If I eat shit in this suit?”

“Just gently push yourself up and get up like normal.” You do pretty well and Tony is smiling, watching like a proud parent. “Okay, let’s try hovering.”

“Hovering?!”

“Yeah. FRIDAY give her a little lift.”

“Yes, Boss.” Sounds in your ears softly before you hear a soft hum and feel the suit lift you from the ground.

“Holy shit,” You murmur, leaning forward and then backward to test the feeling of floating.

And just about that time when Steve comes in with Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey all in tow.

“Tony, do you know where -” He pauses, seeing Tony on the ground and the suit hovering a handful of feet off the ground. “Tell me she isn’t in there.”

“Okay. She isn’t in there.”

“Tony!”

“Steve!”

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Do they always argue like an old married couple?”

“Yes, Miss, they do.”

“Get her out of that thing!”

“She’s hovering off the ground Steve! Not being sent out to tackle an arms dealer!”

“Can you set me down, FRIDAY? I can see the vein in Cap’s forehead throbbing.” The boosters die down, FRIDAY setting you down gently before the helmet flips up. “Let me out please, FRIDAY.” The rest of the suit opens and Tony offers an outstretched hand with his lips pressed in a thin line.

“Listen, I don’t want to be the person to give Captain America an aneurysm, so we’re all going to the kitchen to have breakfast.” You start past Tony and when you get to Steve you reach out, patting his chest twice. “And pull the stick out a little, Cap.” Bucky snorts before following, Sam shaking his head with a big smile before following.

“You know, every day I like her more.” Rhodey chuckles out. “Come on you two, you heard the lady. Breakfast. Bucky’s probably volunteering to cook as we speak.” Both Avengers give each other a look before mumbling out half-assed apologies and all three men then headed for the kitchen and the sound of multiple peels of laughter.

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Bucky and Wanda make omelets as big as the freaking plates while Sam makes bacon and sausage, all of it is delicious - not to mention highly entertaining as Scott did a few magic tricks, making Dr. Strange arch an eyebrow when he pulled cards from his mouth. Dr. Strange and Wong lead you to the zen garden afterwards, Wong leading in a small meditation set before you begin the interview.

Wong is nearly as closed off as Okoye, giving you just shy of not much, so you chalk it up to the fact that secrets seem to go hand-in-hand with mysticism. He does tell you about Tibet and how Stephen got him to listen to Beyonce. He is also a devotee of Adele and Boston.

“Like to keep that one name thing alive, huh, Wong?” He just chortles, taking a sip of his strawberry hibiscus tea.

Dr. Strange goes over his life before the accident and about not returning to medicine.

“I thought that was important, being the asshole surgeon who was the best at everything, the smartest at everything. The accident took everything from me and I was willing to do whatever to get that back. To return to being me. The Ancient One showed me that there was so much more than me to see.”

Twenty minutes later and you and Wong are fighting back laughter. “He thought Dr. Strange was my ‘made-up name’ and not my actual given name.”

“To be fair, the doctor part was an add on. And he’s sort of fair in assuming that’s a made-up name...I mean he’s already met Captain America, Iron Man, War Machine, Falcon, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Black Panther, Scarlet Witch, and Ant-Man. Dr. Strange isn’t that much of a leap after that.” But honestly, you can see Peter doing that, and that’s why you’re still fighting back the giggles.

After a couple of hours with the magic-wielding pair, you have FRIDAY lead you to Pepper. She’s in her office, a white-walled space with homey pictures scattered on them while several vases of flowers adorn the top of a small antique-looking half-table painted in a dark blue. She’s in a soft pink button-up blouse with a pair of charcoal lounge pants, her hair up in a messy ponytail as she looks up from her laptop.

Pepper is the most comfortable with the questions by far, both serious and fluff, and navigates them both with wonderful tact and subtle humor. 

She talks about Stark Industries, about the Avengers, about her suit - Rescue. But you enjoy it most when she talks about Tony and Morgan. Her whole demeanor changes; her body seems to relax, her voice softens and her bright eyes get all the brighter.

“It seems like that’s the only time Tony is really, truly happy. And after I got him back...living our lives, being with each other and having a family - the simpler life...that’s all that mattered. I know Tony and I know he has a hard time shutting his brain off, but those five years while everyone else was struggling,” Pepper sighs, looking guilty. “I was having a life I dreamed about. It wasn’t complete - we had so many taken from us but we had each other. He was alive. That’s all I could have asked for. And then Morgan came along and I thought, maybe this won’t be so bad. Maybe Tony won’t feel so guilty anymore. Maybe he’ll get some rest,” She smiles ruefully. “When people tell you about kids, they say you won’t be getting much sleep. But I was hoping she’d wear him out enough to sleep.”

She nearly brings you to tears when she talks about the fight with Thanos - how she almost lost Tony again - before she clutched onto his shoulder, Rhodey’s armored hand clinging to her’s, Clint’s hand gripping onto Rhodey’s shoulder and Carol holding onto his. Steve is on Tony’s other shoulder with Thor’s hand heavy on Steve’s shoulder while Sam and Bucky are holding onto each other’s hands while Peter grips Thor’s free shoulder hard and Natasha squeezes Peter’s hand reassuringly. All of the Avengers forming around Tony in the gauntlet, shouldering the sheer force of the stones so they all walk away together this time.

“And it worked,” Pepper’s voice breaks a little, the emotion, even three years later is high. “I got to keep Tony, Morgan got to keep her dad...the world got to keep it’s Iron Man. Natasha was brought back, everyone from the Snap was back - it was more than we could have hoped for. Tony, Bruce, and Shuri rebuilt Vision a little while after we rebuilt the compound. I - I just couldn’t have asked for more.”

The words seem to break you the second time around, sitting in your room, sobbing on the floor as the interview stops playing through your headphones.

You don’t hear the soft knock at the door. You don’t hear Bucky and Peter enter but you feel Peter pull you into a hug while Bucky strokes your hair, making you cry all the harder. When you’re all cried out, Peter lifts you from the plush carpet as Bucky saves and closes your laptop, setting it carefully on the desk as Peter tucks you into bed.

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’re all here. We’re all okay.” You’re nodding against your pillow, not knowing how he knew what you were sobbing over, these five days finally hitting you.

“I got her, kid. Go grab some water and some aspirin for her from the kitchen. Get an apple or banana too, she’ll need something on her stomach when she gets up.” Peter nods eagerly before squeezing your hand twice and disappearing from the room. “Want me to stay?” You manage a nod as he kicks off his boots and settles against the headboard. You turn to face him, reaching out for his metal hand, watching a sad smile flit across his face. “Get some rest, doll. I’m gonna stay right here.” He brings your hand to his lips, gentle and soft on the back of your hand. “Not going anywhere.”

An hour later, when Steve and Shuri are looking for Bucky, they find him sleeping slouched to one side but still mostly upright, with your hand wrapped firmly around his vibranium one.

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[PART 3]

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Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr @rowdyhooliganism @everythingisoverrated @iloveyouthreethousand-o6 @puddinsqueen @emotionallysalty @maraudingmarauder

“Let’s go, chipmunk,” You mutter with a smile before slipping into a pair of flats and heading through the door, the handsome sergeant following behind you with his own smile flirting on his lips, this whole thing making the tired wheels in your mind spin.

Bucky couldn’t like you like you, could he?

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Lunch is served later than usual and you thank Tony quietly when you enter for it. He just gives you a genuine smile before reaching out to squeeze your wrist affectionately.

Your seat is in between Natasha and Hope for this meal, a beautiful salad set before you before it’s swiftly pulled away by Bucky, leaning over the giant ass table. He pushes his plate in front of you while you watch quizzically. He looks at the salad with a tiny hint of disdain before handing it to Steve and heading back to the buffet table.

Looking down at the plate, it’s loaded with food. Fried potatoes, antipasto salad, some cottage cheese, three slices of ham, and a little white frosted cupcake.

“Need something solid,” He remarks as he sits down with his new plate. You nearly start crying again - there is no reason for all of them to be so nice to you. Especially Bucky. “Eat,” Bucky orders around a mouthful of chicken, Sam shaking his head - at what exactly, you aren’t sure.

But they must all be in on it since most of the Avengers are giving you smiles like they know something you don’t but right now, you are simply too tired to care.

“Our space division will be here tomorrow, probably just before dinner,” Tony states loudly, disturbing the soft conversation you were having with Hope about adding the ability to “talk” to ants to her Wasp suit or if she could dare to control wasps since it’s her moniker. You meet his eyes and nod your understanding. “We’ll let you rest up the day after they arrive - they can show you around the ship and take pictures, but I want you to rest as much as possible.”

“I’m not doing anything difficult,” You reason, setting your fork down with a frown.

“But you’re still pushing yourself a little too hard, kid.” Unable to argue, you just tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and pick up your fork to continue eating. “I don’t want you run ragged, okay? Just rest up tomorrow and take it easy the day after and then you can go right back at it.”

“Fine. But I’m only agreeing to this because I don’t think I can win an argument right now.”

“Good.”

“And I’m still going to interview Happy after lunch.”

“Fine,” Is uttered through clenched teeth with a forced smile as Pepper reached over to pat his hand, while Peter grins from beside Pepper.

“It sounds like you’ve been adopted or are close!”

“Adopted?”

“Yeah! Mr. Stark shows his affection in not the usual way. He’s kind of compliments you, then tells you what you can do better. Then he starts to orders you to rest and to stay safe and will keep tabs to make sure you do.” He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while Scott and Wanda both give little shakes of their heads.

“Um, thank you?” You look at Tony who just looks away before shoving some antipasto in his mouth.

“Maybe we just let her and Bucky nap some more?” Shuri sing-songs oh so innocently from the other end of the table by Clint and Vision.

When you look across at Bucky, his cheeks that cute pink you remember for your interview. You feel the heat creep up your neck at this as well, all though your eyes shift from Bucky back to Shuri.

“Well, not everyone can have my good taste. Thank you for lunch, Tony. Pepper. And thank you for the care, Sergeant.” And it takes all the confidence you can muster, but you slide from your seat with grace, taking your cupcake with you, and walk from the room with your head held as high as you could manage while nerves ate at your insides.

I just let that damn teenager rile me up...

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Tracking down Happy is a little more difficult, but by now you aren’t ashamed to ask FRIDAY to help locate people. It’s a big compound.

Happy’s in the garage after an errand run to Avengers Tower and he’s more than a little shocked that he’s included - which in turn makes you a little sad since he’s been with Tony longer than Pepper has.

He tells you of his life before Tony, after Tony, his boxing background and helping Peter navigate superhero duties now that he’s not just the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

“Kid thought AC/DC was Led Zeppelin…” He shakes his head with obvious fondness. “Tony bought him all of AC/DC’s stuff and told him he was gonna quiz him after that.”

“It’s a terribly dad thing to do.”

“After Tony assigned me to look after him, the kid called constantly. ‘A lady bought me a churro.’ ‘When do I get to help Iron Man again?’ But I know Tony picked him for a reason. Tony second-guesses nearly everything he does, but not that kid. Under-roos was a good choice.”

“Un-un-under-roos?” You cackle happily, bending over a little as you laugh and nearly jostling the recorder off your knee as you do so.

“The kid seems to like you.”

“To be fair, Peter seems to like everyone. He’s a very sweet young man.”

“They all do, honey. You’ve brought a lot of normalcy to them in a very short period of time. They won’t say it, but they get attached quicker than they like to admit. And they all like you.”

“There are a lot more interesti-”

“Not to them. They like the normal. They like the wit. They like your enthusiasm...that you can connect with all of them. They’ve been to space. Time traveled. Met a talking raccoon and tree. Trust me, they got interesting.”

“Are you implying I’m not interesting?” Happy looks flustered for a moment, backtracking like his life depends on it while you can’t hold your serious face anymore and burst out laughing. “I’m just screwing with you. I know what you meant, Happy.”

Happy is lightheartedly funny, teasing you more after that, and you make the notation that he’s obviously a very good influence on Tony and Peter. He also tells you he helped Rhodey change the signs from Stark Industries to Stank Industries, which still makes him smile every time he drives into the compound.

You take a break after that, twenty interviews in five days a lot to go over - and in your case, go over and over and then once more, just in case.

Spending the rest of the afternoon and early evening shut in your room as you type and listen, type and go over your notes, type and re-type. This has to be perfect. If you never write another story again, this has to be perfect.

For them. For all they’ve done.

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If she’s not interviewing, she’s writing.

And if she’s not writing, she’s taking photographs - the grounds, the woods, them.

When she’s not interviewing or taking photographs, she’s singing.

It’s soft, always under her breath when around them, like after lunch today when she came to grab some lemonade from the fridge. Sam told him it was an 80s song called ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’. He mentally added that to the list he’d already compiled in the last five days from listening to her.

It’s a little spaced out, with whole verses skipped when she’s seated on one of the patios, furiously typing and rereading - typing and rereading.

It’s in her normal speaking volume when it’s early morning and she’s seated in front of the windows in her room, scribbling in her notebook or listening to her boss complain on speakerphone about deadlines, hiring decisions, or suggestions on things he knows already that she’s going to ignore.

He hears her softly singing as he heads towards the living room, silence breaking it up every so often, so he knows she’s typing. Part of him wants to go in and talk to her, but he knows he shouldn’t. She’s working and he needs to let her do that. It doesn’t stop the need burning in his chest but he just shoves it down as much as he can, knowing that he’ll see her later.

“You know, that means she likes you too Tin-Man.” Tony’s smirked-riddled words from lunch keep tumbling around in his head. Over and over and over again.

He grabs an empty bowl and some Lucky Charms from the cabinet, filling the bowl to the brim before pouring the milk and settling in at the bar top to eat his cereal. Peter is a few stools down, shoving a brownie into his mouth as Tony and Sam come in, Tony calling out a gruff “Hello freeloaders” to T’Challa, Shuri, Steve, Vision, Wanda, and Natasha who are all seated in the living room, watching Animal Planet. Shuri, Wanda, and Natasha all give him smirks while T’Challa grabs hold of Shuri’s hands, keeping them firmly on her lap while chuckling.

“Whatcha doin’, kid?” Tony asks Peter, stealing a brownie from the giant serving platter in front of the teenager as Peter looks at his phone with a smile.

“Sending some memes to Y/N. To cheer her up.” Bucky nearly drops his spoon into the cereal in disbelief.

“How’d you get her number?” Tony asks, his gaze sliding from Peter to Bucky, a big smile stretching his lips. Asshole.

“I asked,” Peter answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the history of things.

“Well, I’ll be damned. First DUM-E and now the spiderling…” Sam’s voice filled with the joy this revelation begins as Bucky’s voice overlaps his with an edge of shock.

“We can just ask?” Peter looks at Bucky like he’s confused for a second before his phone dings, Shuri appearing and looking over Peter’s shoulder at his phone.

“That’s a good one,” Peter tells her over his shoulder as Shuri laughs.

“That is a good one!”

“Y/N has a wonderful sense of humor,” Vision agrees from across the room, Wanda nodding in agreement.

“She has retained all of her phrases I’ve taught her so far. And sometimes rearranged them to make them humorous. You should just ask her out already, Bucky.” He feels the heat creep up his neck. He saves himself from answering Wanda by shoving a big spoonful of cereal in his mouth but glares at Sam and Tony who are still staring at him with big smiles. Dicks.

“She seems to like you too, Mr. Bucky.” Peter pipes up helpfully.

“Yes, you two looked very cute earlier,” Shuri adds with a wink.

“And the Guardians are supposed to be here tomorrow night, so you need to get in as much flirting time as possible, Mr. Bucky. Thor is coming. And he’s handsome.” When Bucky just stares, Peter clears his throat. “Everyone says so.”

“Everyone,” Natasha agrees as she gets up to refill her coffee cup.

“If Thor doesn’t try to steal her attention then Peter Quill will,” Tony adds loudly, his back to everyone while digging through the junk food cupboard.

“Star-Lord?” Stephen snorts from his spot on the loveseat in the corner. “I hope she’s a lot smarter than that.”

“Nebula said he wore Gamora down…” Tony argues, eyebrows raised as he shoves an oreo in his mouth.

“Well, we aren’t in space and he is in no way the pick of the litter here on Earth. Regardless of what he thinks.” Stephen comes over to steal a cookie from Tony.

Y/N comes down the hall with Wong, talking animatedly, making Bucky throw his spoon at Tony, who drops his oreo.

“What the fuck, Tin-Man?” Tony hisses as he looks forlornly at his oreo before bending to pick it up.

“Hi everyone! Wong told me we’ll be having dinner in the mess hall tonight. Does that mean the Guardians will be here sooner than planned?”

“No, still due tomorrow, but Nebula said it might be around lunchtime when they arrive. Tony, Pepper, and Natasha just want to work out schematics,” Steve pipes up from the couch, shooting you a bright Captain America smile.

“I was thinking,” You begin nervously. “I’m sort of glad Tony is forcing me to take a break. It gives me time to finish up my notes on you all but also gives them some time to recharge and ask you guys about me.”

“I’m glad you’re gonna rest some, imposed or not. Plan sounds perfect to me,” Pepper answers with a bright smile, taking the oreo package from Tony and closing it as he frowns slightly at his cookie loss. Then Bucky sees Peter slip him a brownie. Tony shoots you a wink as he accepts it.

“Good!” You perk up at the acceptance before you and Wong continue to what Bucky assumes is the library.

Scott and Hope walk in with Okoye and Clint, Scott looking excited.

“Thor’s gonna be here soon!” He rubs his hands together as Peter, Shuri and Sam laugh.

“What did I say?” Scott wonders aloud, looking at Natasha as she pats his shoulder once as she returns to her seat on the couch.

“They’re obviously trying to get the White Wolf to make a move before Thor comes. He may have gained some weight, but he’s still very handsome. Funny. Powerful. Pleasing to the eye and ear.” Okoye comments as Scott and Peter nod along eagerly.

Bucky drops his empty bowl into the sink and sulks off to his room.

Would you really like Thor better?

Of course, you would. Thor wasn’t a former brainwashed assassin who still have difficulties remembering his past as a normal person should. He probably doesn’t sit up nights after rough missions and hate that he can still feel the person he used to be. He can offer you charm and laughter and he was fucking royalty. Space royalty!

Bucky was a man out of time with more blood on his hands than any man should, he was a man who couldn’t offer you a lot...all he had to give was his damaged self.

He was just a semi-stable soldier who liked watching your beautiful eyes light up as you get excited about the smallest things and who liked to follow you around to hear you sing - how could he compete when he was possibly up against an actual god?

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It’s after midnight, so it’s mostly cleared out, with the few who are still awake settled on the patio with a few bottles scattered across the glass tabletop, soft words and the soft clink of glass on glass is all you hear from the partially opened patio door as you slip into the kitchen.

You open the junk food cabinet to find the tin of cookies Bucky had gifted you with two days ago is still there (how you don’t know, but you’re thankful) and still half-full of the little sugar cookies identical to the ones you had the other afternoon. He’s so thoughtful, you muse.

You’re almost back to your room with your tin of goodies when it happens.

A loud boom echoes far too close for comfort, making you jump while you clutch the tin to your chest, fighting back a scream. Then you hear the sound of gunshots, your heart rate already rising.

There is nowhere safer to be. There is nowhere safer to be. There is nowhere safer to be! You repeat the mantra in your head as you automatically head towards Bucky’s room at a run.

He’s not here. Panic blooms in your chest as you throw open his bedroom door and find it barren. No. No. No! He’d gone to his room when you had after dinner...where could he be?! You close his door and rush back down the hall towards the kitchen. Kitchens have knives, you reason to yourself. Killers don’t look that often in kitchens, right? Velociraptors, yes. Bad guys, hopefully not so much.

The lights go out as red alarm lights begin flashing overhead, spurring your feet to move faster.

That’s when suddenly you crash into a hard body.

You’re praying it’s Bucky or Steve.

It isn’t.

The man in black tactical gear grabs your arm, forcing you to face the wall before shoving you into it harsh enough to make the precious cookie tin slip from your grasp. You gasp loudly at the pain shooting through your cheek he’d smashed into the wall and at the angle he’s still got your arm in. Your back is to his chest, so you do as Gracie Lou Freebush taught you and SING!

You bring most of your weight onto your right heel, shoving in at the tip of his boot before snapping your head back hard against his face. He yelps out a few expletives while you thank whoever that this dude was just a little taller than you and not Steve or Bucky’s size. You spin around now that you’re free of his grasp and bring your knee up as quick and hard as you can into his groin, hoping that the tactical gear isn’t that thick there, before flattening your palm like Natasha showed you and thrusting it up and into his nose. You fist that same hand and jab at the uncovered skin you can see by his Adam's apple. He doubles over and while you know it’s stupid and cliche, you grab your cookie tin and continue past the gasping man faster towards the kitchen.

When you run into a second body, you decide you’ll try out the whole tossing your foe over your shoulder thing, but then you feel the cool metal against your wrist before Bucky pulls you against his chest roughly. He releases your wrist, metal hand cupping the back of your head and pulling you tighter against his chest.

“Scared the shit out of me, doll.” He breathes against your hair as you cling to him. Safe. He pulls back to look at you and he frowns, eyes running frantically all over you. “Are you hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Where’d this blood come from?”

“I think I broke a guys nose,” Your voice is unsure but Bucky looks proud.

“Good. Good, babydoll. Okay, we gotta get you to the safe room now.” You nod shakily as you pull away, your hand slipping into his easily before your eyes widen. Bucky drops your hand and pushes you behind him, looking at the six men now standing in the hallway, blocking your way to the kitchen and wherever the fuck the safe room is. Bucky looks around before tapping the comm in his ear. “Hall blocked. I’ve got Y/N. Sending her outside to safety.”

Sending you OUTSIDE to safety?! What sense does that make, Bucky!?

“Run for where you saw the 3 bucks,” Bucky orders sternly before grabbing you, throwing open a little hatch in the wall and tossing you through the tight metal shaft.

You scream most of the way down until you land on mostly soft things. You shove your hand down to steady yourself on the - fuck, he threw you down the garbage shute! Climbing through the giant dumpster trough is a feat in itself, only to reach the sides and find them sticky with residue that nearly makes you faceplant back into the dumpster. You manage to wrangle yourself out and shimmy down the side, with only minor scrapes and cuts your sides and hands, trying not to gag at the scent that now clings to you. At least you’re safe...Well, safer. You still need to get to the clearing.

You aren’t sure how many are outside, so you press yourself against the dumpster as close as you can and ease your way around it until you can almost see the corner that will lead you to the patio and the edge of the woods.

But that’s when a man holding what looks like an electrified baton, steps out of the shadows just feet in front of you, teeth gleaming menacingly in the moonlight.

“Well, fuck,” you huff out angrily before searching the ground around you for a weapon.

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“Where’s Y/N? Anyone have eyes on Y/N?” Steve yells through the comms before soft grunts echo through.

“Tin-Man lost Y/N.” Tony’s voice comes in before there is a crackle of lightning right beside Bucky as he exits the house in a mad dash for the clearing.

“Fuck you, Stark. I didn’t lose her, I simply misplaced her. House is clear. Eyes? Anyone?!” He’s sure he’s panting because his chest is so tight with worry. Fuck, he did lose her. There is no answer, which means no one has seen her. Sweet Jesus, please don’t let anything have happened to her...

“All clear on the east side,” Clint’s voice confirms, not easing the worry bubbling inside Bucky.

“All clear on the north side,” Natasha huffs out. Shit. Shit. SHIT!

The clearing is empty, no sounds coming from the forest. NO! Bucky spins on his heel and heads back for the compound.

“The west side is clear,” T’Challa’s voice comes over. “No sign of Y/N, Bucky.”

“Southside is clear. Except for the debris and unconscious dudes,” Scott affirms before adding softly. “No Y/N here either.”

“Alright - everyone spread out and find her. Queens and Bruce can stay out here while Thor, Strange, Wong and Vision all start to round up these morons. Buck, where do we start?”

“I tossed her out the chute by the kitchen and I just checked the clearing and she’s not here.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” Wanda asks, disbelief clear even through the comms.

“He tossed the girl he’s been mooning over for a week down the damn kitchen garbage chute!” Sam chortles while Bucky fights the need to punch something. Anything. Preferably Sam.

Okoye, Shuri, and Natasha all are headed towards where she was last seen when Okoye stops.

“Do you hear that?” The others stop, straining their ears. They hear a few soft grunts followed by a soft “Help” so breathy if they hadn’t stopped they might not have heard it.

Hope and Steve are coming from the opposite direction, all of them looking around before the shouts grow louder.

“Help! Please!” A pause. A cough. “HELP!” Bucky comes huffing up behind Steve, searching you out.

“Doll?!”

Hope is the one who peers down into the open incinerator hole, “Got her!” she yells before Steve jumps down to help you out.

When Hope and Okoye pull you up, you’re beyond relieved but you only manage to get one semi-clear breath in before hands are cupping your face, making you look into relief-filled storm blue eyes.

“Are you alright? Is anything broken? Are you hurt? Doll, answer me.”

“I don’t think anything’s broken,” You answer before feeling the rage you’d felt earlier returning. “You threw me down the garbage chute.”

Bucky tenses at your angry tone. “It was the safest option at the time, sweetheart.” Tony and the rest of the Avengers and Thor come around the corner about this time, your eyes never leaving Bucky’s as you get angrier and angrier.

“You. Threw. Me. Down. The. Garbage. Chute.” You shove his hands from your face. “And safe?!” You wave the baton you’d taken from black tactical uniformed asshole #8. “That asshole,” pointing the baton down towards the hole you’d both tumbled down, with you luckily landing on him to break your fall. “Was waiting out here ready to electrocute my ass into either compliance or peeing on myself, but yeah, I’m sure sticking with a fucking former sniper and super soldier was a bad plan.” Bucky is grinning with relief, he can practically feel it coursing through his veins like a drug. Now, his mind supplies with glee. And Bucky heeds the call, reclaiming the little space you’d put between the two of you, his hands cupping your face before his lips gently meet yours. He can hear you inhale sharply, moving his lips gently against yours.

And for a few moments, you surrender. It just feels so nice. You don’t want it to stop. But the anger reminds you that you could have died from the fall while your brain reminds you that you didn’t. And his lips feel so damn good.

You pull away, taking a deep breath as Bucky looks at you with hope dancing in those blue eyes.

“I need a shower,” You snap, withdrawing further from Bucky and marching back towards the compound’s closest patio. They can all hear you talking to yourself as you leave. “Maybe update beyond a plain chain-link fence? Who the fuck attacks the fucking Avengers compound, huh? Maybe put a stupid cover over the giant ash and fire pit in the ground! Stupid asshole, he’s lucky he broke my fall. What is in my hair?! Can’t believe he kissed me...fucking cookies...”

Pepper and Wanda follow after her while Natasha shakes her head at Bucky.

“A garbage chute, Barnes? And then she fell into the incinerator pit?”

“I didn’t plan it that way! I figured she’d get to the clearing and be safe!” Bucky defends, throwing his hands in the air.

“I thought you were smooth with women back in the day?” Rhodey asks, gesturing from Bucky to where you’d gone.

“You must go and make this right. But you might want to wait a bit since she still had a very firm hold on that stick.” Thor offers with a cheery smile. “I like her already!” Cookies. The thought of her holding that tin so tightly to her chest spurs Bucky to begin searching the ground before heading over to the garbage bin.

“Whatcha doin’, Tin-Man?” Tony asks, hovering to watch him.

“She had her cookie tin when I found her,” He grunts out, shoving the garbage out of the way to see the bottom of the metal bin.

“It’s not in there, Sergeant Barnes.” Vision confirms, making Bucky jump out with a huff.

“You can make her some more as an apology, Buck.” Steve huffs out as he dusts off the ash from the pit.

“Yeah…”

“You’re going to need a lot more than cookies,” Wanda’s voice is a whisper through the comms.

“Why?” Bruce asks, looking at Wong who shrugs.

“Whatever was in the dumpster, it mixed with the ashes and residue in the incinerator and it’s clumping in her hair. Pepper has her in the bathtub, trying to work it out as you would gum, but it’s not all coming out. We’ve got some of it...Maybe Shuri or Bruce can help? Otherwise, Pepper is going to call her hairdresser…”

“Oh shit. Yeah, you’re gonna need a whole lot more than cookies if you’ve fucked up her hair. I know that from experience,” Sam affirms before giving a shiver and heads back to where they tossed all the intruders.

“Best way is to admit you were and are a dumbass, then give her a few of her favorite things...oh, and she liked those chocolate chip pancakes you made - make those!” Bucky groans, looking from Clint - his suggestion is the best, after all - to Steve who is ready to begin doling out orders for cleanup.

“I’m just gonna give her some time. I’ll apologize in the morning. With pancakes and cookies.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

After Pepper and Wanda try to work the solidified goo from your hair for almost two hours, you give up and just ask Pepper to call her hairdresser.

You didn’t know she’d come right away.

You barely step out of the shower when Wanda knocks to let you know she’s there.

It takes her about twenty-five minutes to cut all the wads from the ends of your hair, the highest luckily only coming a couple of inches up. You had wanted to cut your hair anyways you suppose…

She evens it out beautifully before smothering your hair in a mask as a knock on your door, draws all of your attention to the door. Part of you wants it to be Bucky. Needs it to be Bucky... The other part is hesitant - mostly because now you’ve had time to calm down and think about everything - you had said some harsh things. You had basically rejected him. And it hurt that you did that to Bucky.

The person at the door isn’t Bucky, it’s a nurse to check you over. You have a few scrapes on your hands from the metal edges of the trash bin and a few cuts on your arms and neck from wrestling with your assailant. You have a nasty bruise on the back of your left thigh from landing on it but right now it’s just a dull ache. She adds split lip and an electric-based burn on your forearm to the papers.

“Nothing major, thankfully!” She’s far too chipper for you right now so you just give a little sigh and nod.

After everyone leaves - having to placate Wanda and Pepper several times over that you are alright - you stand there in the middle of the room, bewildered. What do you do now? Is this how they all feel after battles?

You wander over to the desk, looking over the interviews you were working on before the attack, but you can’t seem to settle.

Just like before.

A shiver runs down your spine at the thought.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Bucky is lying in bed, rubbing both hands roughly over his face while his mind goes over the last couple hours like fucking torturous instant replay.

A groan bubbles up in his throat as he stares at the ceiling.

He knows he’s made things bad but he hadn’t wanted you to see him like that.

Because he had felt more unhinged than he had in a long time...he didn’t know where you were and then someone had hurt you. The rage he had barely contained was let loose the moment he had turned around from shoving you down the chute. The six men were lucky. The man who had limped from the hallway after he finished with the six idiots, was not.

He’s so lost in his thoughts, in his selfishness - he barely registers the knock at his door. Huffing out a breath, he tosses his sheet over to cover his nudity...Steve didn’t seem to care but Sam threw a hissy fit every time he barged into his room and found him naked.

“Yeah,” Bucky calls out gruffly, tossing his flesh arm over his eyes, trying to prepare himself for whatever lecture he was about to receive.

“I don’t want to sleep alone.” He pops up at the sound of your voice, drinking the sight of you in like a thirsty man who had just crossed the desert. “I’m scared.”

His heart breaks. You should feel safe here. That’s all they had to do was protect you and he failed. Miserably. You look so small against the dark wood door, the oversized shirt from before is gone - a dark blue tank top in its place - but those tiny little shorts still there. Those would have been considered underwear back in his day.

You move forward slowly, coming to a stop at the empty side of his bed.

“I’m...um…”

“Naked?”

“Yeah.” She turns her back and sits on the edge of the bed with a soft sigh, perhaps relief? “Okay,” Bucky is standing by the bed in his black boxers, searching your face for what he’d seen earlier, but all he sees is tiredness and tears sitting ready to spill. “Come on.” He eases back into bed, watching as you mimic him.

Bucky can hear you swallow once you’re settled, staring up at the ceiling as he had done earlier. The both of you lie on your backs with a small space between the two of you, the soft breathing the only thing to break the silence.

“I’m sorry for how I acted. You saved my life. I should have been more grateful.”

“I shouldn’t have tossed you down that chute like that. I didn’t - I couldn’t - let you see me do what I did. You’d have been safer if I would have kept you with me.” You don’t reply - not verbally, at least. Your hand finds his under the sheet, gripping it tightly before linking your fingers through his. “I’m sorry about your hair,” Bucky whispers in the dark room, half-afraid to look at you.

“It’s just hair. It will grow back. Maybe I’ll cut it shorter once I get used to this length. I cried a little when Pepper was working on getting it out...seeing chunk and chunk of that stuff on one of those plush white towels...I honestly think it was the whole ordeal that made me cry. The hair was just the kicker.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say, just squeezes your hand before he feels your gaze on him. Like a siren call he can’t ignore, his eyes meet yours.

“Stop blaming yourself Bucky. You thought you were keeping me from seeing you beat the ever-living fuck from those guys and keeping me safe by getting me out and away from where they all were.” He can hear your voice break as you fight back tears. “Please don’t take that burden. I’m fine. I’m safe.”

“With me,” Bucky breathes out, releasing your hand for the second time that night, turning on his side before drawing you closer, as close as possible. “You’re safe, babydoll. Okay? I’m a dumbass. I should have done what made sense and keep you close.”

He can feel you chuckle against his chest, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo as he idly rubs his cheek against the top of your head.

“You are a dumbass, Barnes.” He sucks in a breath, a tightness already forming in his chest. “But you are an achingly good person, so I’m going to forgive this incident. Next time, I’m not gonna be so lenient.” It’s all mumbled against his chest, your fingers digging slightly into his back as you cling to him like he is doing to you.

“I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes and cookies ‘til you pop.”

“Mmmhmm,” You hum against his chest, giving a little wiggle before taking a few deep breaths. “Goodnight Bucky, you handsome dumbass.”

“Goodnight, doll,” Bucky waits until he hears your breathing even out before he adds. “Your dumbass, sweetheart.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Everyone wakes up to find Steve panicking that Y/N isn’t in her room.

“She’s gone!”

“Calm down, Steve.” Natasha orders, handing Clint his third cup of coffee.

“I checked the surveillance cameras, she didn’t leave the compound,” He rambles. “And I’ve checked the grounds, she isn’t anywhere to be found.”

“Did you ask everyone? Maybe she’s talking to Wong or Bruce or Okoye. Get ahold of yourself, Rogers. A man your age doesn’t need the added stress.” Steve shoots her a glare that clearing has some language undertones.

“Morning,” Tony says brightly, tossing the morning newspapers onto the kitchen bar top and taking a seat.

“Tony, Y/N is missing.”

“Ah. Is she now? FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Is our little writer still on the premises?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“See? No need to worry, Steve. A man your age could have a heart attack.”

“Oh hardy-fucking-har har,” Steve spits out while Tony grins, just before they all hear a loud gasp.

“Captain!” Shuri has her hand over her heart dramatically. “Language!” Steve throws up a hand.

“One more language or old man joke and someone - or multiple someones - are getting some shield. Understand?” They all fucking snap to attention and salute, T’Challa walking in with a sigh.

“Please say this is for him and not for me.”

“No, it’s for the Captain,” Peter clarifies with a bright grin before schooling his face back to serious.

“Alright then.” Steve nearly snaps when T’Challa joins in, trying to hide a smile as he stands at attention.

“Fine! I’m going to keep looking for Y/N!” And stomps from the room.

“You guys really should have shouted ‘America’s Ass!’ when you snapped to attention,” Scott muses as he heads towards the coffee pot.

“Damnit! Why didn’t I think of that?!” Tony groans out before Natasha slides him a glass of orange juice and smiles over the rim of her glass.

“There’s always later, Tony.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“Bucky! Have you seen - AHH!” Bucky shoots up, making sure to angle himself to cover you as he held a gun pointed at the intruder.

“Jesus, pal. Maybe knock next time?” Bucky grumbles out, replacing the gun next to his lamp on his bedside table as he feels your fingers on his bicep. You sleepily peeking around him to look at Steve with murder clearly written on your face is the epitome of too cute.

“I didn’t - I’m sorry - I-I was just looking for -”

“What time is it Steve?” You yawn out, interrupting him.

“It’s, um, 8:30.”

“AM?!”

“Yes.”

“What the actual fuck? I didn’t get to sleep until after 3. Not cool, Rogers.” And you toss yourself back down before reaching up to pull at Bucky’s arm with a little whine at the back of your throat.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll, um, I’ll just go then. See you when you get up.” Even Steve doesn’t understand what you mumbled out, his brow furrowed as he pulls the door closed quietly behind him as Bucky waves him off. Bucky wiggles downward, changing their positions from last night - his face pressed against your collarbone as he feels your fingers slip into his hair, winding his arms around your middle with a sigh of contentment.

You both drift off wrapped up safely in each other again.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

“You find her?”

“Yep.” Steve walks briskly into the kitchen, reaching for his coffee cup.

“Well, don’t leave us hanging in suspense!” Hope chides as Steve adds some brown sugar to his coffee before moving around Sam towards the liquor counter. All eyebrows raise as he pours a healthy amount into his coffee cup.

“She was with Bucky.”

“What?!”

“After what happened last night?!”

“Did the old man finally get laid?” They’re all talking over one another or talking to each other about this development.

“I don’t think she’s gonna have sex with him after that. Maybe she just went in to talk and they fell asleep together. I don’t know. I didn’t get to ask too many questions. She’s not a morning person and running on less than five hours of sleep doesn’t make her any more of a morning person.”

“Well, where are they?”

“She pulled him back down and they went back to sleep.”

“That’s adorable!” Wanda gives a little squeal of delight before adding a dollop of whipping cream to Steve’s cup of Irish coffee.

“It seems the endeavor to bring them together has worked,” Vision expressed, nodding at everyone like they had done a good job.

“He has to ask her out. That’s the goal.” Wong utters as he waits for the tea kettle to warm up.

“Wong’s right. He’s gotta ask her out.”

“Who has to ask whom out?” Thor asks as he struts into the kitchen. “I am glad I came ahead. I got to have some fun before the interrogation.”

“Interview,” Okoye corrects with pursed lips.

“Ah yes, interview. But who is asking who out?”

“Bucky needs to ask Y/N out,” Pepper clarifies, hugging Thor before taking the barstool next to Tony.

“She seemed upset with him earlier this morning.”

“He threw her out the trash chute,” Shuri reiterates.

“Better than a high window. Or into the vacuum of space.” Natasha shoots Clint a look at Thor’s words, which just makes him chuckle loudly before gesturing at the Irish whiskey Steve left on the counter. She rolls her eyes and hands it to him.

“Yes. Very right, Pikachu. But what else can we do? We’ve pushed them together at mealtimes, they’ve napped together - now they’d slept together,” Thor opens his mouth but Bruce just shakes his head and Thor closes his mouth. “Sleep, not sex, Thor. He’s been smiling more, following her around when she isn’t interviewing...maybe we should send them to town for supplies make up an activity to do and then we all bail?”

“What scares me is you are a certified genius…” Shuri utters with a hearty sigh. “This isn’t a Lifetime movie, people.”

“It wouldn’t be a Lifetime movie anyway!” Scott argues, drumming his fingers on the countertop. “We need, like, a ‘You’ve Got Mail’ scenario.”

“That’s not gonna work! They’ve met. They aren’t competitors,” Clint argues back, shaking his head vehemently. 

“Okay, everyone gives ONE idea!” Stephen pipes up as he leans against the coffee bar.

“We should go over tropes!” Peter jumps in with the first offer.

“Finally! A good idea!” Shuri agrees with a broad smile.

“Alright, let’s make a list,” Pepper pulls out her phone. “Trope one?”

“Bedsharing. Check.”

“Could we do a sick/injured one?” Natasha asks, looking from Shuri to Peter.

Peter nods seriously. “I’ll allow it.”

“Sending them on a blind date?” Hope offers, smearing butter on her toast as Scott hands her a jar of peach preserves.

“Oh, yes. That could work. Add that please, Pepper.”

“Why are we listening to children?” Stephen looks around the group, hands wide with a universal ‘what’ gesture.

“Cause we are very intelligent. And you aren’t throwing out any good ideas, Strange.” Peter snorts at Shuri’s comment.

“Mutual pining for sure,” Sam adds, cracking open an energy drink.

“Poorly timed confession? When he kissed her?” Okoye slips into the last barstool, Shuri grinning from ear to ear at her addition.

“You know so much, Okoye.”

“It is my job, Princess.”

“Anger born of worry, definitely a possibility for Y/N…” Tony mutters more to himself than anyone else, as he scrolls through his phone, looking at the list of tropes he found.

“Innocent physical contact?” Steve peers over Tony’s shoulder. “Hand holding when they napped.”

“Sleep intimacy.”

“Well, that didn’t seem to help. We just made a list of things they’ve done,” Thor looks at Sam’s can before rooting around in the fridge for a similar one.

“Exactly, Mr. Thor. We need a starting point. They both seem to be sort of dancing around each other, so we have to also go with what they’re comfortable with.”

“Excellent, Spider-Parker. Continue.”

“Just go old school. Send her flowers in his name. She thanks him, he plays along, if he’s smart he asks her out - Done.” Bruce vocalizes, Hope offering him a slice of toast.

“Or…,” T’Challa begins, “We could take them to Vegas, get them drunk and get them married. I have now solved all the future problems they’ll encounter as well. You are welcome.”

“Why not just get them drunk here and since I’m ordained, and you’re a King, we could just marry them?”

“Is this really what we’re going with?” Skepticism is rampant in Pepper’s voice as she sets her phone down, eyebrow raised at Rhodey - who has been remarkably silent in the corner, a guardian of the newly brewed pot of coffee.

“Listen, if he’s not smart enough to see he needs to snap her up, I can’t help the man.”

“I just think he needs a little push,” Wanda expresses as she picks at her fingernail absentmindedly.

“Or we just watch and hope he pulls his head out of his ass,” Stephen mutters, pouring more hot water into his cup with a grimace.

“God, it’ll be another 70 years,” Steve groans, polishing off his Irish coffee.

“We’re talking about Bucky, Steve - not you,” Natasha reasons, patting his forearm and flashing a cocky grin.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Tony staring down at the marble countertop with his hands on either side of his head with Pepper sitting beside him at the kitchen bar top reading something on her tablet. Bucky is making breakfast - well, more like brunch and a brunch overload at that - pancakes, coffee, bacon, sausage, ham, waffles, and he’s working on eggs when everyone drags themselves back into the kitchen.

“Where’s Y/N?” Shuri asks as she pours herself some juice.

“In the garden,” Bucky answered distractedly before taking a long drink from his black insulated tumbler.

“How is she?”

“She’s been on the phone since she came out of Mr. Bucky’s room,” Peter pipes up happily before walking by Tony and squeezes his shoulder. “Did you guys see she posted the first interview?”

“Who did she post first? Was it me?”

“No, uh, sorry, Sam. She posted Mrs. Pepper’s first.”

“How many times have you read that Tony?” Steve asks, taking his own long drink from his coffee cup as his blonde hair sticks up everywhere.

“Four. He didn’t even tell me until the third time,” Pepper answers for him.

“Five now,” Tony corrects, leaning back in the barstool. “It’s everything I could have wanted.” Natasha takes the tablet from in front of Tony, bracing her elbows on the counter before scrolling to the top and settling in to read. Pepper hands her tablet to Steve as Thor climbs into the seat besides Tony, taking a few waffles from the pile and dousing them with far too much syrup.

“Kid, tell her breakfast is ready,” Bucky orders softly, Peter already out of his seat and out the wood covered patio door before Bucky gets to the word ‘ready’. Repairs to the windows and door the intruders broke will be fixed later today, Pepper confirmed earlier since Tony was distracted, for now, they’re just boarded up.When Peter returns with her, there is just the sounds of Bucky finishing up and soft shuffles as people shift where they’re sitting or standing. Almost everyone is looking down at their devices or eating, which makes you more nervous, he can tell.

Bucky had woken up to an empty bed and his giant tumbler filled with hot coffee sitting on his bedside table, the sweet smell and pale color tipping him off immediately to what his doll has been up to. He didn’t know exactly what she’d put in it, it was different from the other times, not as chocolatey but sweet enough to appease his sweet tooth.

He watches you from the corner of his eye as he carefully plates the two biggest, warmest pancakes onto a plate for you, balancing two pieces of bacon and a couple of pieces of sausage at the top of the plate while you slip into the barstool on the other side of Okoye who had claimed the seat by Pepper.

Bucky carefully slides the plate before you, a silent offering of apology. Even if you’ve said multiple times he doesn’t need to apologize...he knows he has to. You deserve every apology he can muster.

“Morning,” He rushes to say it and it comes out rougher than he planned nearly wincing at his overeagerness.

“Good morning,” You reply softly, “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Of course, doll.” Everyone is trying not to look at the two of you and you both appreciate that.

Tony points to the tablet in Natasha’s hand.

“We need to talk about this later, kid. Wonderful stuff.”

“Really?” She’s beaming, the nerves she had suddenly gone - like a weight lifted from her shoulders. Tony nods as he takes a big bite of sausage.

“Yeah, kid. I love it. I really do.”

“When we get done eating, can Thor join me in the garden please?” Bucky fights the need to tense up at your words, putting a few pancakes on his own plate before adding a heap of eggs, smothering his pancakes in buttery syrup as if every action will somehow prolong the inevitable. But you slept in his bed last night. Woke up wrapped around him. The thoughts don’t stop the jealousy already clawing at his belly.

Thor just looks at you with happiness painted on his features, extending a hand behind Pepper to shake yours.

“I did not think last night was a good time to introduce myself. Thor, Son of Odin and Frigga.”

“Y/N, Daughter of Lily Lee. Pleased to meet you.”

“You as well. I like your hair cut. I know what it is like to have no decision in removing your hair and I am sorry. But it will grow back.” He adds cheerfully, spearing a forkful of eggs. “This is only 8 years worth since that madman on Sakaar shorn me like a sheep!”

“Asgardians hair must grow fast.” Thor bobs his blonde head. “Where is Sakaar?”

“It is a place I would never take a lovely woman such as yourself. It is a prize fighting planet filled with thieves, vagrants, and mercenaries which is ruled by a sexually-deviant man called the Grand Master.” He shoves half a waffle in his mouth, cheeks round as he smiles and points his fork at Bruce. “You remember Sakaar, don’t you, Bruce? Hulk was top fighter there!”

Bucky watches your eyes widen as your gaze falls on Bruce.

“You didn’t mention Sakaar, Dr. Banner.”

“Why-why would I? It’s a terrible planet, like-like Thor said. Plus, I-I was Hulk and don’t remember everything about that time.” Thor and Bruce nod along together, Bucky nearly rolls his eyes at the two. Their sublty and Shuri’s absolutely needed some work.

“Of course. I’m sorry to prod, Bruce.”

“No problem. No problem at all.” Tony is looking at Bruce, confusion written all over his face,  who shrugs as soon as you look away.

“Well, I’m going to get my things, Thor. I’ll see you in the garden.” She rises from the seat and puts her dirty plate in the sink, Bruce stuttering out he’ll wash it before her hand falls on Bucky’s wrist. “Thank you again for breakfast, Bucky.”

Now it’s his turn to stutter. “O-of course, doll.”

As you disappear down the hallway, Bucky meets Thor’s gaze, the god smiling knowingly at him.

Asshat.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Thor starts your interview with a hug, complimenting you on the stories that Nebula shared with him from the many electronic mails that Tony had sent.

“I’m glad you liked them.”

“Oh yes. I think even my brother would have had to admit they were well written.”

“How is your brother?”

“I have seen him but twice on my travels with the Guardians. But he seems well. He is not the brother I lost to Thanos, not as mature, he is more Trickster...but he seems to avoid getting himself into too much hot water.” He sighs, absentmindedly stroking his beard. “I suppose I am just happy he is alive and well. I dare not ask for more.” You pat his knee as you nod.

“We can’t change our family. But the family you found is always here and welcoming.”

“Of course. I am very grateful for such a family.”

“May we begin?”

“Yes. Let us begin.”

“What was it like growing up on Asgard?”

“Beautiful. Peaceful. Even when we were being trained to be warriors, there was still joy in me. I was always happy to protect Asgard.”

“It’s been mentioned to me by others that you are actually not the King of Asgard as many news agencies constantly report.”

“No,” He gives a little chuckle as he looks over the roses. “No, I am not King of Asgard. I never wanted to be. Loki should have been King, he was more for politics and intrigue and silver-tongued words. I am a warrior. It is that simple.”

“Is it?” Those electric blue eyes bore into you, brows furrowed slightly. “‘Cause you let your home planet be destroyed to protect your people. You ferried quite a few Asgardians who were flung across the cosmos back here to live with their own people. I’d say that’s more than just a simple warrior.”

“You flatter me, my lady.” You laugh at his words.

“I’m not terribly into flattery, so you won’t be getting any more of that from me.”

“Noted,” He remarks, his serious face being held for only a few seconds before it breaks into a wide smile that reminds you of the sun. Did his mother ever look at him as a baby and think ‘this is Thor - my little god of sunshine’? You’d bet a fair amount of money she did.

“Things on Asgard were medieval-ish in terms of the way you spoke, the way you dressed...yet you were far more advanced than even we are now. Probably more than we will be in a hundred years. Why visit us so long ago, when we were far less advanced than now?”

“You were a simpler people. Not stupid, but not quite ready to dream of going out into the stars. All of the cultures we visited were so different...good medical knowledge, fairly good at outlining the stars, planets, and constellations, all very clean and focused on the betterment of their people. And then I believe it was the Dark Ages and you lot seemed to take a few dozen steps backward. Like you had all, as one, forgotten the hard-earned knowledge of your forebearers. We did not come back for a great many years after that. But you have relearned most of what was lost. Wakanda seems to be the best because of it, seeming to have lost the least amount of knowledge over the centuries.”

“Have you read any of the Viking mythology?”

“Tony has made a few mentions of it during our time together, but I did not understand all of his references.”

“Viking mythology is quite different from Asgardian fact. You are the oldest legitimate son of Odin, so you would still be King. Loki is still a Frost Giant raised as an Asgardian. But Hela is not your sister, Hela is Loki’s daughter - well in some versions. He - um - in a certain story,” You wiggle a little on the bench under his intense, but friendly gaze. “Turned into a mare and let himself be impregnated by an Asgardian stallion. He then gives birth to a nine-legged horse that Odin uses named Sleipnir.”

Thor bursts out laughing, deep, rich and from his belly as he slaps his hand on his knee a few times before taking a deep breath and wiping away a few tears.

“Oh! You MUST send me more of these stories! They are wildly inaccurate and very, very amusing!”

“What’s your favorite thing about Earth?”

“Besides these stories I have just learned of? I enjoy the clothes but dislike the lack of armor. I like coffee! I add a little bit of Asgardian mead to mine to make it more enjoyable. I enjoy the fact that you are all so resilient. Most of you so willing to do what’s right, you just act upon that need - it is quite endearing. Selfies! I have become quite good at taking selfies with people! You all also opened your planet to me and my people when we were in need. I also enjoy those Oreo cookie things that Quill packs onboard that I steal and share with Rocket and Groot.”

Another snack thief… You make a note under Thor’s name, before adding Oreos just under it.

“You left New Asgard to go travel with the Guardians. Is Quill still the leader?”

“Yes. Of course.” You giggle at his face.

“Your mouth says yes, but your eyes don’t seem to agree!”

“You have a lovely laugh. And I suppose I am used to being the leader or, at least an equal to the leader, and 3500 years of that is a hard thing to break. I will call it a toss-up on most days.”

“Thank you for that compliment, Thor. Are you a morning or a night person?”

“I like all times of the day, but I do enjoy sleeping in when I can.”

“What would happen if you summoned lightning and I was holding onto Stormbreaker at the time?”

“You would not be able to wield such a weapon, little one. But you have nothing to fear, I would not let any harm come to you - lightning or attempting to wield Stormbreaker. The lightning would simply go where I wanted it to and I would be wielding the ax, so no harm would come from you hanging onto it.”

“How do you deal with all the loss you’ve had in the last fifteen years?” Thor gives you a sad smile.

“One day at a time, as do we all. I have very much to be thankful for, so I think of that often when I feel weighed down.”

“Do you take fruit from Tony’s farm when you go into space? Have you tried giving them space fruit?”

“Yes, Tony has had some. As well as Rhodey. I am not sure the others have tried any. I should bring a few big crates for them to try next time we come to visit!”

“Would you like to tell me more about your family and growing up?”

“What else would you like to know, little rose?” You cover up the shock at the nickname with a bright smile, nodding eagerly before flipping to another page of questions you have for him.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

You’re all about to sit down when FRIDAY announces that the Guardians are about to land on the east side of the compound. You snatch up your camera, which had eerily reappeared in your room this morning, from the kitchen counter and run outside to snap a few pictures of the landing.

Meeting “The Space Division”, as Tony lovingly refers to them, is amazing!

Carol is funny, sarcastic and a bit dry, she immediately reminded you of a lot less weighed down version of Tony. Maybe a mix of Tony, Wanda, and Clint. That thought gives you a little concern.

Nebula glares as you extend your hand before giving a little huff and shaking it roughly. You don’t mind, Tony and Thor have warned you she was rough around the edges. You give her your warmest smile and allow her her space afterward.

Gamora gives you a firm handshake, sizing you up before offering a tight smile. “Don’t mind the idiots too much, I’ll help keep them in line for the questioning.” She says softly before dropping your hand and stepping aside.

Thor wraps his arms around you in another hug, tighter than the last, before pulling back to introduce you to Groot and Rocket. You manage a thank you as he releases you, seeing Bucky come into your line of sight behind Thor, you smile again - this one just for him since he looks a little glum.

“These are my very good friends, little rose. Tree and Rabbit,” His voice is filled with pride and glee, so you try to school your face when he calls Rocket a rabbit.

Groot shakes your hand and smiles wide, “I am Groot,” falling easily from his mouth as he beams down at you.

Rocket perches up by Groot’s elbow to shake your hand afterward, “I’ll be translating for him during your interrogation thing.” You thank him profusely as Thor gives a little frown beside you.

“Interview, friend.”

“Right. Right.” Rocket agrees with a little shrug before a giant wall of muscle stands before you - shirtless.

“I am Drax the Destroyer.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” You pause. “The writer.” He nods as if the title is exactly what he needed to hear before yanking your hand away from your side and giving it a few firm shakes before dropping it and moving to the left.

“This is Mantis. She knows she is hideously ugly, so there is no need to bring it up again.” Your brows furrow at Drax’s summation as you look at the woman before you. She isn’t ugly. At least not here on Earth.

“Hello, Mantis, nice to meet you.” She keeps her hands clasped together lightly before her, giving a nod at you instead

“Don’t mind Drax. His vision of beauty is horribly skewed,” A male voice says from behind Drax, pushing him out of the way to reveal a nice looking man in red leather who has plastered on his most charming, boyish smile as he extends his hand. “I’m Peter Quill, you may know me as Star-Lord.”

“Of course,” You answer brightly as his other hand comes up to clasp tightly around the hand he still has a hold of, stepping a little closer as he does so.

“You have beautiful eyes,” He begins before Steve clears his throat loudly to your right.

“Lunch?” He reminds in a tone that leaves no room for argument. Bucky appears at your side like magic, offering his arm as he stares ahead. You gently slip yours through it, setting your other hand on his forearm. Thor is holding the door open and smiles brightly at you, blue eyes nearly electric with the light shining in them. Bucky gruffly thanks him before escorting you to your seat, which is opposite the Guardians. Bucky makes sure you’re settled before he takes his seat beside you, with T’Challa on your other side.

Lunch passes much like the first dinner you had with the Avengers, with you recording and feeling a bit like an interloper, but at the same time more comfortable in the group. The Avengers really help you not feel like the odd man out, and it does seem to ease something in Carol and Nebula as they interact with you. Quill and Thor keep smiling overly friendly at you, Bucky’s arm landing on the back of your chair about halfway through dinner. T’Challa says something to him in isiXhosa that nearly has Bucky sputtering into his wine, making you pat his back roughly before rubbing a few circles as you make sure he’s okay.

“Fine, doll. Just fine. Sometimes T’Challa’s humor throws me off.”

Dessert is individual layered desserts with cookies on the side and you nearly squeal when you see the homemade sugar cookies on your plate with the colored sugar on top. You bite into one eagerly, making a little noise at the sound, a chuckle sounding to your right as Bucky watches your happy little wiggle.

One of the things you learn quickly is that Nebula doesn’t talk much, and when she does, it’s blunt. Quill, on the other hand, talks a lot. Especially about himself. Which you don’t mind - just look at your chosen profession - but it’s cocky and you aren’t one for this ego-boosting performance. Especially overly dramatic, long-winded ones... Rocket is rolling his eyes at the story Quill is telling, his hand miming talking while he mouths ‘Blah, Blah, Blah’. Then Quill throws one of his cookies as Rocket, who ducks and it hits Groot - and while you’re sure he’s physically fine, the look in his eyes is one of betrayal and you pick up your unused soup spoon and throw it at Quill. He looks more startled than anything at the turn of events, rubbing his chest where your spoon hit.

“Don’t worry,” Drax shouts as he shovels in the last of his dessert. “He does not have sensitive nipples!” You try desperately to smother your laughter with your hand but fail for the most part.

“Good to know,” Clint replies for you further down the table as Bucky leans over to whisper in your ear.

“No one needed to know that, doll. And that was a hell of a shot with the spoon.” You turn to face him, foreheads almost touching.

“Did you doubt my spoon throwing skills, sir?”

“Haven’t come across a spoon thrower…” He rumbles out, smiling so wide his eyes are wrinkling on the sides again.

“So that makes me all the more impressive. I mean, you are over a hundred years old…” He leans back a little, hand over his heart.

“Ow. Bringing my age into it, doll? Rough.”

“Don’t be such a baby. Sam brings up your age constantly.”

“Does he? I ignore him most of the time…”

“No you don’t, you old fogey!” Sam hollers from a few seats down, making you laugh again. Tony leads all of you into the lounge, complete with a fully stocked bar. Bucky brings you a dirty Shirley Temple before sitting beside you with a big glass full of whiskey, Thor making himself comfortable on your other side.

He regales you with stories from his journeys throughout the nine realms, about his brother and his friends the Warriors Three. You listen to a particularly suspenseful one, Steve smiling as he leans against the bar edge a few feet away, your hand shooting out to grab onto Bucky. You miss the shocked expression when you grab his knee, squeezing it before you sputter out an embarrassed apology.

“I was - I’m sorry - I just - I was so caught up in the story…”

“It’s fine, doll. Startled me was all since I was talking to Stevie is all.” He pats the hand that was just squeezing his leg, his small smile comforting. Thor coaxes your attention back to him, finishing the story with gusto.

About two hours later you’re excusing yourself off to bed, saying you’d like to get better pictures of the outside and inside of the ship before you start the interviews. Quill eagerly agrees, offering to give you a tour until Rocket makes what you assume is a crude comment under his breath since Quill tries to kick him before flashing a bright, flirty smile at you.

You don’t see Bucky glaring menacingly at him, standing at his full height just to your left as you say your goodnights. When you turn to wish Bucky sweet dreams, his face is normal - his eyes even softer than usual as he wished you sweet dreams in return.

You don’t hear the sound of a whip Sam makes but you hear a few soft grunts just before the door clicks closed behind you.

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[PART 4]

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