Unscheduled Vulnerability and a Glitter War
Bucky had been a lot of things.
Soldier. Assassin. Fugitive. Amateur pancake artist.
But until now, he'd never been the victim of a glitter bomb.
He opened his closet, expecting socks. What he got instead was a cascade of shimmering, metallic teal confetti that exploded like a pride parade grenade.
"...Harry."
There was a distant cackle.
"I regret nothing!" came the reply from somewhere near the elevator.
The Tower was a war zone.
It started as a harmless prank—Harry filled Clint's quiver with marshmallows and replaced all of Steve's shampoo with glitter gel.
It escalated.
Steve retaliated by hiding little "Captain America Cares About Your Feelings" sticky notes in Harry's notebooks.
Clint got Natasha involved.
Natasha brought labels.
Suddenly, Harry's hoodie stash had tracking devices and his snack drawer was reorganized by moral alignment (Pop-Tarts were labeled "Chaotic Good").
But the real moment—the one that shifted everything—came the night Harry got quiet.
Too quiet.
Bucky found him on the balcony.
Blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Tea gone cold. The kind of stillness that meant something was wrong.
"You okay?" Bucky asked, leaning beside him.
Harry shrugged.
"Just tired."
Bucky waited.
Harry didn't talk unless he wanted to. But Bucky had learned the signs—shoulders too tight, smile a little forced, fingers twitching like they wanted to reach for something and didn't know what.
"I thought I was doing okay," Harry finally said. "Being here. Being… part of it."
"You are."
Harry smiled, thin. "Then why do I feel like I'm waiting for it to go away?"
Bucky's chest tightened.
"Because you never had people who stayed before."
Harry looked at him, eyes shadowed but clear.
"No one's ever picked me on purpose."
Bucky didn't hesitate.
He pulled him into a hug, strong and quiet and absolute.
"We're not leaving. Not me. Not Tony. Not any of them."
Harry rested his forehead against Bucky's chest. "Even after the glitter incident?"
"I've survived worse."
There was silence.
Then: "...You mean the time I stole Steve's shield and used it as a sled?"
"Exactly."
Harry snorted softly. "I think I like you."
"You better," Bucky said. "I'm still finding glitter in my socks."
The next morning, the Tower found a new sticky note on the kitchen fridge:
"I'm a chaos goblin, but I'm your chaos goblin. Thanks for not running."
– H
Next to it:
A photo of Harry asleep in Bucky's lap.
Tony printed it.
Pepper framed it.
Clint cried. (He claimed it was allergies.)
Steve muttered something about family and disappeared for the day.
Bruce handed Harry a thermos and a pat on the head.
Natasha handed him a knife. "You're one of us now. Don't lose this."
Harry cried later.
But only a little.