i hate you but

“Do you know where y/n is?” Bucky raised a brow at Sam as he pulled a carton of milk from the now-replaced fridge.

“Why? Are you gonna accuse her of burning the kitchen down again this time? I don’t think she burned down any kitchens today,” Sam chuckled, his gaze wandering around the newly repaired kitchen.

“No, it’s not tha—” Bucky tried to explain, only to get interrupted by Sam breaking out in a fit of laughter.

“Man, you’re in love with y/n! That’s why you’re always pissing her off!” Sam exclaimed excitedly, earning a smack across the shoulder from Bucky.

“Why do you always assume people are in love with other people? Last week, you said the guy in front of us in the café was in love with the barista just because he took ten seconds longer than he was supposed to for ordering a drink,” Bucky rolled his eyes at Sam’s childish remarks.

“You should’ve seen him! He was making heart eyes at her!” Sam exclaimed, holding his arms up in defense.

“He was on the phone with his girlfriend, Sam!” Bucky pointed out.

“Okay, that was a mistake on my part, but why are you looking for y/n?” Sam raised a brow at Bucky as he crossed his arms.

“She borrowed my van four days ago and she never came back,” Bucky shrugged.

“That’s because she went on an indefinite break from staying at the tower and all her Avengers duties. She even sent Fury an email about it,” Sam chuckled before pausing as his eyes widened, “wait, you let y/n borrow something you own?”

“She was doing that weird thing with her eyes; you know the one she uses to get information when we’re undercover?” Bucky scratched the back of his neck, struggling to describe what exactly it was y/n did to get him to hand over his van keys.

“You fell victim to her puppy eyes? Damn man, I thought it would take more than to get you to crack,” Sam broke out in a fit of laughter as Bucky scowled.

“Yeah, well, she did this thing where she held onto my shoulders and started shaking me!” Bucky exclaimed defensively. Sam shook his head as his laughter slowly began dying down.

“Man, so if HYDRA decided to capture you and gave you the puppy dog eyes, you would give up all the information they want you to give up?” Sam raised a brow at Bucky. Bucky, as though in deep thought, averted his gaze as he swiped his lip with his tongue.

“Well, no but—”

“Man, I should tell Fury to start looking for a replacement now,” Sam quipped.

“All I’m asking is you know where she’s staying? I wanted to pick up a few things from the hardware store, but since y/n has my van, I can’t really do that,” Bucky questioned, pouring milk in his cereal bowl.

“Can’t you have FRIDAY call her? Wait, she’s your teammate, you should have her number!” Sam pointed out as Bucky attempted to argue with a mouthful of cereal.

“She banned,” Bucky paused to swallow his food before continuing, “from contacting her through FRIDAY or via her phone number.”

“That’s all on you, Barnes,” Sam chuckled before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and walking away.

“FRIDAY, can I have a location on y/n?” Bucky requested as soon as Sam was out of earshot. To Bucky, talking to someone he couldn’t see was a little weird at first. Sure, when he was in Wakanda, he’d seen Shuri do it plenty of times, but he just assumed she had someone on comms. That was why the first time FRIDAY greeted him, he was startled—and whether or not he’d admit it, he pissed his pants a little too.

“Unfortunately, Agent l/n blocked any requests for her information,” FRIDAY explained. Bucky groaned in frustration; he just wanted his van back. Was that too much to ask for? That was when he was struck by an idea.

“FRIDAY, can I please have a location on my van?” Bucky requested, silently praying that his van did not somehow end up in another state.

“Your van is parked outside an apartment complex in downtown New York. Shall I send the coordinated to your mobile device?” FRIDAY questioned.

“Yes, please,” Bucky responded as he downed down the leftover cereal milk in his bowl.

Bucky checked his phones from any notifications from FRIDAY and there it was on his lock screen: y/n’s home address.

“FRIDAY, set my GPS on my motorcycle to the location of my van,” Bucky requested.

“The GPS on your motorcycle has been set,” FRIDAY responded.

Bucky left his bowl on the counter and headed into his bedroom to grab a pair of sneakers and a pale green jacket. He stared at the dark glove on his nightstand in consideration for a moment.

Even after he’d been pardoned for his crimes under HYDRA, people always had that underlying fear that Bucky would revert to his ways with HYDRA, and the Avengers would be unable to do anything about it. Luckily for him, the people of New York only ever recognized him when his vibranium arm was on full display. After all, not that many people in New York sported a vibranium arm and a perfected scowl.

After careful consideration, he decided to ditch the glove for the day and hope the jacket would cover up the arm the way he wanted it to. After all, he was just heading to y/n’s apartment and he would head back to the compound.

He pulled his—well, it used to be Steve’s before the old man gifted it to him—motorcycle keys off the hooks on the wall and headed to the parking basement where he kept his beloved Harley Davidson. He mounted the bike and sped off, following the directions in which the GPS directed him through.

A grin found its way to the super soldier’s face. He was brought back to his younger days as he and Steve rode through the busy streets of Brooklyn whenever the Howling Commandoes didn’t have any missions to partake in—which was pretty rare. He felt young and carefree as his wind blew through his dark locks.

He remained like that for a while; in a state of nostalgia and an uncharacteristically happy grin on his face as he dashed through the busy streets. He only broke out of it upon hearing FRIDAY’s voice announcing that he was at his location; a shockingly large apartment complex.

“Shit,” he swore upon realizing y/n would be a bit tougher to locate than he thought. He didn’t think y/n’s life outside the tower would be as glamorous or at least not boring as it was. He was, of course, proved wrong at the sight of the massive building. Did y/n live in an apartment or a condominium?

Luckily, as Bucky entered the buildings (after having some complications with the metal detector, of course) he noticed there was a concierge stationed at the front desk. He silently prayed to whoever was listening that the lady stationed there would tell him which floor and which apartment number he could find y/n in.

“Good morning, sir, what can I help you with?” the lady—she couldn’t have been a day over thirty—greeted Bucky, a soft smile on her face.

“Hi, uh, I’m here for y/n l/n. Do you know what unit she’s in?” Bucky questioned, leaning closer to the desk. He didn’t want to raise his voice; the whole lobby of the complex just seemed like such a peaceful place he didn’t want to disrupt.

“Just a moment sir,” the woman smiled before dialing a number on the telephone and speaking to who he just assumed was y/n, “She’s in unit 8E on the eight floor, sir.”

“Thank you,” Bucky smiled as he headed into one of the thankfully empty elevators. He didn’t know why, but since his first elevator ride, he always found riding an elevator—an enclosed metal box—with a stranger filled him with unease.

Bucky arrived at the beige-carpeted hallway of the building as he passed by the abstract paintings hung on the wall and the doors with the unit number engraved in them. A, B, C, D; he passed by them all until he reached y/n’s door. He brought his fist up to the door before realizing there was a slight racket going on from within the door.

That was when he panicked; was his teammate in trouble? No, there would’ve been more noise if y/n really was in trouble. Of all the times he’d worked with her, y/n was known to let out a battle cry here and there whenever she got into a physical confrontation.

He relaxed, flicking his wrist against the smooth wooden door and waiting a moment for it to swing open and reveal a very tired-looking y/n who carried a wailing toddler in her arms.

“You’re not the gelato guy,” y/n frowned, pulling a chuckle from Bucky.

“And there’s no way in hell you’re y/n. You didn’t tell me you had a kid!” Bucky exclaimed, shocked at what he was seeing.

“First of all, we aren’t close enough for me to disclose that kind of information with you. Second, she’s not mine. Well, she kind of is but not really,” y/n shrugged, “wait, why are you here?”

“You borrowed my van,” Bucky raised a brow as he crossed his arms.

“Oh yeah, you might want to take a seat, though. I know it’s somewhere here, but the past days have been pretty hectic,” y/n chuckled dryly, stepping aside and letting Bucky into her apartment. The action itself shocked him a little. In all his days living with y/n, she’d never once invited him into her room or any room she was in whenever he needed something. On a normal day, she would’ve shut her door for a while and opened it as she chucked the item right at him before slamming the door shut again.

Bucky took in his surroundings; y/n’s apartment looked as though it was supposed to be a peaceful place. The spacious apartment’s furnishings matched those of the compound’s, yet it all felt more like an actual home compared to the compound. However, it didn’t take him long to realize some things were placed where they weren’t supposed to.

There were articles of clothing on the floorboards, a toy or two there, a pack of diapers in the corner of the room, and a child wrapping his arms around a sobbing teenage girl on the couch. Wait, a child and a teenage girl? How many people did y/n live with?

He awkwardly took a seat on one of the seats by the plush velvet sofa, trying to avert his gaze from the two on the couch near his seat. His super soldier hearing, however, betrayed him as he heard every sob and every word that fell from the teenager’s lips.

“I just can’t believe it!” the girl sobbed, her eyes red and puffy.

“It’s gon be okay, Livvy. Mommy’s gonna go back,” a smaller voice came to comfort her. A smile found its way to Bucky’s face as he heard the child’s attempt to comfort ‘Livvy’. God, it had been so long since he’d seen that kind of innocence in his life.

“I found your keys,” came y/n’s voice from behind him as she pressed the cold metal against his flesh hand.

“Did you kidnap these kids with my van?” Bucky quipped, his brows furrowing as he watched the interaction happening on the couch.

“Look, I’ll explain everything later if you end up sticking around. I’m too tired to even banter with you at this point,” y/n shook her head. As if on cue, a knock came at the door and she swung it open to reveal the gelato guy!

“So, you’re fine with me just, staying here?” Bucky raised a brow in suspicion.

“Join us for breakfast if you want to. Just, try not to be such a pain in the butt, Barnes,” y/n sighed. Bucky noticed how uncharacteristically tired she sounded. With a small nod, he took a seat at the dining table in her kitchen area. It wasn’t like he had much for breakfast, what harm could a little more food do?