The Pigeon Incident
He sits on the balcony, on the stool wedged into the corner of the two walls. This vantage point allows him to have a view without any exposure to his back, the stool has a pillowed seating pad of soft pastel purple, his favourite colour. The wood is painted with an assortment of babushka dolls, hand-painted by Steve.
Steve, who had made this stool just for him because Bucky didn't like chairs when he'd first come home. He liked to be able to pull his feet up into an almost crouch, 'like the gargoyles on churches' Steve had teased him when they were still kids, unstained by blood and war.
The babushka dolls had struck him when he'd first been presented with the stool, he'd stared at Steve eyes wide, wondering how he could possibly have known. Steve had given him an embarrassed smile, twisting his mouth up in one corner so that it dimpled, "I saw the babushka doll Natasha gave you Buck, when I was putting some fresh laundry in your cupboard."
It had been Bucky's turn to blush at the thought of Steve finding the little bed he'd fashioned out of one of his sweaters for the doll to sleep in, "Oh."
They'd stood in silence for a full minute, both just looking at this stool tucked into the corner of the balcony.
Bucky broke the moment with a quiet "Thank you", unable to keep the slight quiver from his voice.
Steve had lifted a hand to grip his forearm, the forearm of his metal arm, and smiled, "My pleasure Buck."
Yeah, he was so screwed, so completely in love with his best friend. Bucky shook his head at himself.
The same best friend who for the past couple of months had been trying to get something going with Sharon Carter. He shuddered, she was a pale imitation of her Aunt, he knew that was vindictive thought to have but he couldn't keep his self-invented codename for the calamity from being 'Operation Imitation Game', anymore than he could keep from breathing. That was why he was out here at 3am in the first place, Steve had a date with Sharon later today and he didn't know what to do.
There was only one thing for it.
He pulled out the phone Steve had given him (on behalf of Stark) from his pocket, his finger lightly stroking over the Captain America stickers Tony Stark had insisted on adorning it with, he opened his contacts and scrolled to 'Babushka' that had a little skull emoji next to it and hit call.
Natasha answered on the second ring, "да cолнышко моё?"
Some of the tension in his chest eased at the sound of her voice, "Маленький паук, I need your help, I need a diversion, distracting, random, maximum duration of fix-up required."
There was silence on the other end of the line, then, "Is this anything to do with Operation Imitation Game?"
He sighed, "It has everything to do with it."
Another pause, "You're in New York. Pigeons."
Then she hung up.
He stared at his phone, and then back out at 21st century Brooklyn, "Right. Pigeons."
***
At 5am he texted two more contacts, 'Birdbrain' and 'Hot Coco'. Clint and Sam responded quickly which he appreciated.
Grandpa: Need help.
Birdbrain:Y? R u ok?
Hot Coco: Barnes this better be an emergency, I need my beauty sleep in order to maintain the codename Hot Coco or I'll become lukewarm, sad coco and no one wants that.
Grandpa: O.I.G
Hot Coco: Oh for the love of...
Birdbrain: Yes! I <3 O.I.G! Tlk 2 me Grandpa wat u need?
Grandpa: Pigeons. Lots of them.
Birdbrain: I got u fam.
Hot Coco: There are no words...
Birdbrain: Aw sure there r, they r: I AM IN!
Hot Coco: .....
Grandpa: ?
Hot Coco: I'm in.
***
Clint and Sam stood outside the door to the apartment, looking slightly dishevelled. Clint was smiling happily, holding what remained of a loaf of bread, Sam was shaking his head, "Man I don't get you guys. Surely with your history you could just sit down and have a nice NORMAL heart to heart about all this?"
Bucky shook his head, "No this is the only way."
Sam raised an eyebrow, "I feel it would reflect poorly on my life's work at the VA if I didn't at least try to correct on you that."
Clint slapped a hand on Sam's shoulder, "Aw well who cares, what's done is done and now we've gotta roll before the big man gets home. Don't wanna compromise O.I.G this far in do we?"
Sam sighed and allowed Clint to steer him away from the apartment with bribes of coffee and doughnuts.
Bucky turned and went back inside, closing the door behind him and surveyed the chaos of their apartment with a wry smile. There were pigeons everywhere, approximately 56 according to Clint. Steve was out for a mid-morning run, Bucky had known he'd be gone longer than usual to get rid of some of his nerves before his lunch date with Carter Jr. He also knew it was a lunch date because she had to fly out late afternoon/early evening to go "someplace" top secret to do "something" censored.
He pulled out his phone.
Grandpa: Stevie...we got a problem.
Grandma: What is it? What's wrong? Are you alright?
Bucky swallowed his guilt.
Grandpa: Pigeons Steve. So many pigeons. I don't know where they came from...Idon'tknowwhattodo
Grandma: Don't worry I'm nearly home. Stay calm.
Bucky sighed, he'd never been calmer.
***
(2 hours later)
“Fuck!”
“Broom me Stevie! Quick!”
“Take that you fluffy bastard!”
“Duck Buck!”
“That ain’t funny Stevie.”
“No duck!”
"Shit!"
(4 hours later)
"Get outta here!"
Steve turfed the last pigeon out the window and slumped against the wall, "Wow, who knew pigeons could be so damned difficult to wrangle..."
Bucky grinned at him, "Yeah, I think the goddamned Nazi's were easier."
Steve tipped his head back and laughed and Bucky felt his grin grow another couple of impossible inches, then he sighed and looked at his watch, Bucky's smile faded, "Everything ok Stevie?"
Steve's mouth twisted, "I was meant to meet Sharon for lunch but I had to text her to cancel and now it looks like we won't have time before she ships out."
Bucky battled with the warring sensations of guilt, elation,shame and smugness, "Oh...I'm sorry slugger, it's all my fault...I shoulda just called Wilson or Stark or someone and they coulda helped me..."
It wasn't his most heartfelt performance and for a moment he thought he saw one of Steve's eyebrows flicker upwards before he waved his hand, "Nah it's alright Buck, I wouldn't have left you on your own to deal with it, it's our apartment after all."
Bucky fought to control the quiver in his heart at Steve's protest over their shared ownership of this safe space they called home, "Yeah, yeah ok, thanks pal."
Steve smiled at him and it felt like being caught in the full line of the sun, "Well we better get all the crap of off everything."
"Yeah lets do it."
"But first your hand."
"My hand?"
"Yup, look at it Buck, those little feathered demons did a number on you."
Bucky looked down to see an array of claw marks and places he's been pecked on his one vulnerable human hand, "Oh."
"C'mon."
Steve led him over to the counter and proceeded to pull an excessive amount of medical supplies out of the cupboard, “Be realistic Stevie, I don’t need all that for a couple of scratches…”
“Shut your face Barnes, they’re pigeons and you ain’t getting’ scabies on my watch.”
“Punk.”
“Jerk.”
He watched as Steve carefully disinfected his hand and then smiled as he tenderly bandaged it, feeling the light touch of his fingers in places far removed from his hand. He’d never felt happier.
(Operation Imitation Game: Pigeon Incident - Success.)