Static: Get, Set, Glitch

“Y/n!”

She just ignores him. She’s too caught up in her head. There are too many memories, too many emotions. There’s too much—it’s too much.

“Y/n, come on!”

She pushes the hair out of her face, still walking down the corridor.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky pleads.

She stops. Of course, she stops. It’s Bucky.

It’s Jamie.

He catches up to her easily as she turns to look at him.

“You alright?” He asks, softly.

She looks up at him, her face scrunching up.

“Okay yeah. Stupid question,” he concedes, hands flying up in defense. He sighs heavily. “You don’t have to leave. It’s your apartment. He should leave.”

She puts her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket. “No, it’s fine. If he’s here he probably needs help.” She can see the disagreement in his eyes but he chooses not to voice them, and for that she’s thankful. “And, come on. You can’t tell me you don’t wanna sit down and catch up with him. He’s all the family you got.”

“That’s not exactly true anymore,” he admits softly. His gaze is fixed on her and there’s a hint of a smile making its way onto his face.

The sentiment warms her from the inside. “Oh.” She has to look away, the moment is… too much. “You still want to catch up, right?”

They are standing in the corridor of her apartment building after she just stormed out of her house (courtesy of her ex-boyfriend showing up at her doorstep). She’s at the edge of the staircase.

“Yeah.” Bucky exhales. “But we could just go to the coffee shop down the street or any of the other 2000 coffee shops this godforsaken burrow,” he suggests.

She lets out a chuckle. “Yeah, but none of those coffee shops would have booze…” He cocks a brow at her response. “Definitely not the Asgardian kind, that actually can get a Super Soldier drunk,” she finishes.

He smiles a coy smile. “You’re amazing, I ever tell you that?” When she shrugs in response, he asks, “Where will you go?”

“Go over to Harley’s. See what we get up to from there,” she answers.

“We still on for tonight?”

The question is simple enough but there is something in his tone, something in the way he holds himself, something in this whole conversation that isn’t really helping Y/n calm her nerves. He seems different and if her head wasn’t brimming with this overabundance of stuff she’s sure she would be able to pick out exactly what.

She huffs, “Come on, James. Realistically speaking, he’s probably here for—”

“Even if he’s here for a mission if it doesn’t happen today; are we on for tonight?”

“What if he’s come back because the world is ending—”

“Y/n,” he chides.

“—Or cause the pigeons are rising up against us—”

“Oh my god,” he exclaims. “Pigeons are fucking scary, alright? Will you ever let that go?” He looks maddeningly cute like this; brows knitted together in annoyance without any heat to it, eyes twinkling before falling shut for dramatic effect.

“Never,” she promises. “But yeah. Sure. We’re on for tonight.” She turns to leave.

“Y/n,” he calls out. She turns to him and he looks… nervous. “About Us…” He drops off.

“What about us?” She knows where he’s going. It’s obvious, really. But she likes watching him sputter.

“You know? What we are…” He tries, hand pointing from him to her.

“What are we, James?” She just likes to be difficult. Her expressions are stone.

He stares at her for a second. And she can’t hold it any longer. Her eyes must give her away cause his head falls back in false exasperation, only for a smile to break out on his face. “You’re a pain in my ass, Stark.”

Y/n can’t help but let out a chuckle, “After last night, it’s kinda the other way round, Sarge… But I’m always up to try new things if you are.” She winks at him for good measure.

His whole face turns bright crimson.

Motherfucker.

“Oh, you are,” she realizes, and oof. Ideas, ideas.

Bucky stutters and fumbles around, but none of the sounds that manage to make it out of his mouth cannot be considered part of the English language. Y/n can’t help but laugh. Her big, hunky, metal-arm-wearing man is a fucking dork, and she loves it.

“We’ll deal with that when I come back,” she promises, turning her back to him. “Later, sunshine.” She begins descending the stairs.

“See you later, sweetheart.”

Hours and hours of solace (far away from Steve Rogers) later, when she eventually does make her way back and opens the door, she can see both her past and present sitting on her couch. There are empty glasses in front of them, that once held a few glugs from the stash of Asgardian mead Thor had gifted her with before going off on his space adventure. For times when days without Tony get too hard to handle, he’d told her.

Both Steve and Bucky turn to look at her at the same time.

“Hey honey, I’m home,” Y/n sings sardonically. “And I picked up the kids,” she states, making her way in.

“Ah! Captain Asshole,” Harley calls out, pointing at Steve, as he follows her inside.

“Junior!” She scolds.

“What?” He defends. When she points at the child sitting atop her shoulders, he just shrugs. “She’s not gonna pick it u—”

“Cap’ain Asshole!” Morgan repeats excitedly pointing at Steve.

If looks could kill, Harley would be ten feet under.

Steve gets up, to turn to them while Bucky jumps over the couch, walking over. “Spider boy,” he greets.

“Hi Sergeant Barnes,” Peter waves back, from next to them.

Meanwhile, Y/n is busy scolding Harley, who’s begun making his way over to the couch, “Come on man, you gotta stop swearing in front of her, She was running around screaming,” she reaches up and covers Morgan’s ears, and whispers, “penis,” she takes her hands off, “for two weeks!”

Harvey plops onto the couch, leaning back on the armrest with his legs up, taking up the entire space with his unusually long body. “Could have been Peter.”

Everyone except Steve stops in their tracks and gives him the most disbelieving look before snorting in unison.

“Queens,” Steve greets Peter, nodding.

“Captain Butthole,” Peter replies, pushing off Harley’s feet and sitting down on the couch next to him.

Y/n smacks her face in frustration.

“Cap’ain Budhole,” Morgan mimics from the throne she’s claimed on Y/n’s shoulder.

Bucky snickers from next to them only to be met with a glare from Y/n. And that shuts him right up, throwing up his hands in defense just as Morgan calls out to him, “Tinman!” sounding elated.

“Hey princess,” he greets Morgan, before taking her off Y/n’s shoulder and pulling her into his arms where she settles very happily. “What did you crazy kids get up to today?”

“We went to the ‘ac—u—a—ri—um’,” she enunciates slowly. “We met Denny!” The smile on her face is so fucking bright, the lights that are lighting up the apartment seem duller in comparison.

While Bucky listens to her animatedly talk about her day, Y/n turns to Steve and says, “Hey.”

“Hi,” he replies sheepishly. “Didn’t think you’d come back.”

“It is my apartment… And honestly, didn’t think you’d be here when I did,” she says, taking off her jacket. His face falls. “Where’s Sam?” She asks, dropping the jacket on the back of the second couch.

“He had to go—” he hesitates, looking around. “—for work stuff.”

“Just call it a mission,” Harley, Peter, Bucky, and Y/n correct him in unison.

“We have a no secrets policy since Harley, over there,” she points at Harley who waves at Steve with a proud smile, “started making jetpacks in his apartment,” she explains.

The man sticks out like a sore thumb in the coolly lit living room, which is a stark contrast to how comfortable Steve has always managed to look despite the surroundings. But then again, that was a long time ago, that was a different Steve; her Steve. This is not that man. And he certainly does not belong here amongst the hustle-bustle of several Starks and one Bucky Barnes.

She moves over to kiss the top of Morgan’s head where she sits comfortably in Bucky’s arms, playing with the vibranium one subconsciously. “Hey,” Y/n greets Bucky softly.

“Hey.” Bucky gives her a warm smile and she finally feels like she can breathe again. “See your plans escalated.”

She shrugs, “Harley suggested we meet Pete, and then Pete—”

“No, no. It’s good.” Bucky tucks Morgan’s hair behind her ear. “I’m just glad you had a good day.”

Y/n purses her lips to stop herself from smiling. Because fuck, she wants to swoon so fucking bad, but she isn’t sure she’s allowed to, in front of Steve.

“Alright, come on Pete!” She begins to move towards her bedroom. “Pick up whatever you forgot and then we’ll be on our way.”

“You’re leaving?” Steve asks. “You just came back.”

“Captain McDouche’s right. We just came back,” Harley interrupts, “we should stay for dinner.”

Her steps halt, she turns to them.

“I do feel hungry,” Peter adds.

“Cheeseburgers!” Morgan screams out from behind them.

“I thought you guys were too busy for me,” Y/n chides, folding her arms.

Peter and Harley are looking at Steve (who looks terrified) when Harley says, “We changed our minds.”

Motherfucker.

“Alright, guess that’s our cue then,” Bucky says, sensing the tension that begins to grow in the room. “Come on Steve, let’s go.”

Steve begins moving but halts when Morgan whines to Bucky in protest, “But I wanna tell you about Denny.”

“Princess—”

Steve cuts Bucky off, “It’s alright Buck. You should stay I’ll—”

Harley cuts off Steve, “Oh no Captain. Don’t tell me you don’t wanna hear Morg talk about Denny, the Dolphin. I mean, that would really hurt her feelings, wouldn’t it Morg?” He looks back at her and winks??

And as if on cue, Morgan’s eyes begin to water, “You don’t wa—nna h—hear about Denny?” She hiccups, sniffling.

Steve looks horrified. The color drains from his face when his hands go up in defense as he makes his way over to the little girl. “Course I do, Morgan.”

“Then you gotta stay,” Morgan insists, slamming her hands against Bucky’s arm that’s holding her.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll stay. Whatever you want,” he promises.

And just like that the crying stops as instantaneously as it began, “Great!” She smiles, all traces of tears gone. And then she turns to Harley and throws a wink his way.

Motherfucker on a shit stick. Tony Stark is up there somewhere doing the damn Macarena, probably even throwing a parade at how adept his four-year-old little girl has become at manipulating men to get her way in life. And Y/n isn’t sure whether to be scared or impressed, so she settles for both.

She sighs, “Fine. Whatever, you win. But we’re eating something healthy.”

“Cheeseburgers,” Morgan interrupts.

“You either get cheeseburgers or the Tinman,” she points at Bucky, “You pick.”

Morgan looks so affronted at the statement, her nose scrunches up. “Not fair.”

“You just blackmailed Steve into staying by fake crying. You kinda lost your claim to fairness, kiddo,” Y/n retorts.

“Tinman,” she huffs out reluctantly.

“I feel so honored,” Bucky says chuckling. “Thanks, princess.” He kisses the top of her head.

She calls up Sam, wondering if he’s finished up whatever he was called away for. When he tells her he has, she asks him to join them, hoping to have a peacemaker on her side, knowing full well that Bucky would be of no help against the children. Sam happily accepts the invitation, sounding ecstatic to be able to witness the chaos that is coming their way. He claims he wanted to come over to inform them about a mission they just got, anyway. But she’s sure he just likes the idea of watching Steve squirm at the hands of a 4-year-old girl, a 16-year-old boy with spider powers, and a 23-year-old software engineer who’s more spiteful than Zeus, himself.

When he does come over later, he’s got a bunch of supplies and a charming smile. He helps her out in the kitchen before going over and stealing Morgan from Bucky’s arms. He delegates himself to the duty of reigning in Harley and occasionally even Peter, whenever they go overboard with the insults towards Steve.

Eventually, they settle around the steel black dining table. Steve sits on the head of the table, with Sam on the other end. On Steve’s right are Harley and then Peter. While Bucky and Y/n sit on Steve’s left respectively, with Morgan in between the two on a high chair.

They talk about random things, keeping the conversation light. They talk about Harley’s new job and new apartment a couple of blocks down from Y/n’s. They talk about how Morgan’s doing at school and of course, Denny the dolphin who they saw today at the aquarium.

“You heard back from MIT yet?” Sam asks Peter.

“You guys know about that?” Peter looks confused.

“You called when we were on the ground,” Bucky explains.

Peter looks back at Y/n, affronted, “You said you weren’t busy. Why’d you pick up?”

Y/n shrugs, “It was you.” She takes a bite, “It sounded urgent.”

“Filling up a college application form isn’t urgent,” Peter argues.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Harley interrupts. Peter folds in on himself a little bit. “I filled it and got in.”

“But you’re mean,” Morgan answers on Peter’s behalf.

Harley looks at Peter, who doesn’t meet his eyes, focusing instead on the plate of food in front of him while Bucky, Sam and Y/n snicker. “I’m not always mean… Well, I am. But I wouldn’t be mean about this, I know how much it means to you.”

And that makes Y/n smile, warming her heart. Peter seems just as touched by the answer. “No, I haven’t heard anything back,” he answers Sam’s first question, a little hesitantly.

“Don’t worry about it kid, you’ll get in,” Bucky assures him, sensing his worry.

“I hope so,” Peter answers.

“You will,” Y/n adds. “But even if you don’t, you know that Tony’d still be proud of you, right?” Peter looks back up at her then, eyes glistening. “He’d be proud of you no matter what, kid. Us too,” she points at Bucky and Sam, who nod at him. And the kid seems at a loss for words. “I just wish I could’ve helped out as much as he would’ve.”

“Oh fu—fudge off!” Harley cries out. “You’re doing great. Feel free to not start with that crock of sh—stuff… We’re glad to have you.” But before she can deal with the emotional implication of that statement Harley continues, “We’re not like Captain Butthole over here,” he points next to him at Steve.

Steve, who has been quiet all dinner, only speaking when spoken to, sits up straighter.

“Oh my god, can we please just drop it?” Y/n exhales heavily.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll drop it,” Harley remarks, flinging his spoon at the man, “as soon as he tells me what was so enticing about the past that he left you behind for.”

“I wouldn’t mind knowing either,” Peter chimes in.

And Y/n has had enough, “Peggy Carter! The answer is Peggy Carter, alright? She was fierce and smart and one of the most remarkable women I ever met. And frankly, I can’t really blame him. If Peggy loved me half as much as she loved him, half as much as I loved her; I might have left Steve for her too. But she didn’t swing my way. So…” she drops off, looking around the room at the stunned faces.

The silence hangs heavy, until—

“I didn’t know you were in love with her,” Steve says, almost to himself.

Y/n shrugs, “Who wasn’t in love with Peggy?”

“But you loved Cap’ain Butthole too,” Morgan cuts in.

Y/n sighs. “Pumpkin, you gotta stop calling him Captain Butthole.” She looks at her, cleaning up the mess she’s made on her face with a towel.

“But he hurt you.” The kid’s got a good point. But Y/n has to be the grown-up, and how that sucks ass. “You cried when he left. You were sad.”

“I’m not sad anymore, pumpkin. And look, Steve had to go back. He needed that back then. We can’t blame him for that—”

Harley’s mouth opens to interrupt her.

“We can’t,” she reiterates, looking at him. His mouth falls shut, jaw clenching. She looks back at Morgan, “Besides, it doesn’t matter anymore. Okay? He came back, didn’t he?” Morgan nods reluctantly. “That matters far more.”

And with that, the painful assault on Steve is halted for the night. Eventually, they wrap up dinner. Happy, on Y/n’s request, comes over to pick up Morgan, who’s out like a nightlight by that point. Harley and Peter begin to clean up but Y/n stops them.

“It’s alright. It’s late, you guys should head out,” she tells them.

“But it’s our turn, you cooked,” Harley argues.

Y/n smiles, “Don’t worry about it, okay? You’ve done enough today, anyway.” Harley just huff. “You didn’t have to go that hard on him, you know that right?”

“He hurt you, Y/n. I should’ve gone harder,” Harley replies, and there’s this fierceness in his eyes that reminds her of Tony so much that she feels like she’s been gut-punched.

“I appreciate it, Junior. Really,” she smiles at him. His harshness breaks at her smile. “Now go away. I’m getting tired of seeing your faces.” They laugh and make their way to the door. “You guys sure you don’t want me to drop you off?” Y/n asks.

“No it’s alright, I’ll drop him off,” Peter answers.

Huh, that totally isn’t suspicious.

“You’ll thwip him?” Y/n asks, and both of them nod in reply, falling out the door into the corridor.

“Bye, Y/n.” Harley kisses her cheek. “Thanks for dinner. Bye Miss Stark.” Peter kisses her other one and then they both rush off in a hurry.

“I could’ve given them a ride,” Bucky speaks out from behind her, standing in the hallway. “Peter thwiping them?” He sounds as suspicious as she feels.

She turns and nods, making her way back into the living room.

“But Harley hates being thwiped,” Bucky reasons.

“I know,” Y/n agrees. He hates being flung around the city of New York on what he calls ‘a silly string on acid’. “They’re gonna test out whatever equipment he made,” she discerns.

And she’s pissed off.

“Ooh,” Bucky winces. “They lied to you.”

“Right to my face.”

“How do we feel about that?” Bucky asks.

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

Because she can’t really deal with it, not with Steve sitting on her couch looking at her with those eyes. It—It’s too much.

“You guys alright?” Sam calls out from where he’s sitting next to Steve. He seems concerned.

“Yeah, yeah.” Y/n and Bucky make their way over to the pair. “Just too much Tony in one room, you know?”

“Tell me about it,” Sam snarks, laughing.

“You said you wanted to talk about a mission?” Y/n asks, sitting down.

Sam shifts uncomfortably in his seat, looking over at Steve. “Yeah but, I think that can wait. I mean, shouldn’t you talk this out first?”

Y/n looks at Steve then. For the first time all evening, she actually really looks at him. Steve meets her gaze, and there’s a desperation in his eyes that she can’t ignore. “No.” She doesn’t want to deal with this now, or ever. Steve left and she made peace with that, his return—contrary to what she told her niece—changes absolutely nothing. “I don’t know why you’re back. And frankly if it isn’t because the world is ending, keep me out of it.” She looks back at Sam, “If this is about him joining us back on the field, I can assure you I harbor no ill will towards him that would ever jeopardize or influence the mission. Frankly, I’m pretty fine with him being here. I don’t know what made you think otherwise.”

“You stormed out when you saw him,” Sam states.

“Yeah, well. I was a little shocked,” Y/n explains.

“Out of your own apartment,” Sam argues.

“Fine,” she acquiesces. “I was angry. But you would be too.” She huffs. “Doesn’t mean I hate you,” she says looking at Steve. “You spent your entire life fighting for others. You were more than allowed. You were owed one choice that was just your own, something selfish. So, yeah. I don’t hate you.”

Finally, at her words, Steve relaxes, shedding some of the fear he’d been carrying all day.

“Can we talk about the mission now?”