Chapter 2
The first thing Bucky felt when he woke up was sheer panic, followed by a whole array of confusion. He was on a couch in Tony’s lab and... oh, right. He had somehow managed to fall (and stay) asleep long enough to have a blanket covering half of his body and a plate of waffles on his lap.
He stared at the plate full of food with a more confused look, then shifted up, being careful to grasp the fine china with his metal hand for stability. They were made recently, judging by the small amounts of steam rising off the deliciously sweet-smelling waffles.
It’s been too long since he’s eaten something sweet.
Back then, when it was just him and skinny little Steve, he had the biggest sweet-tooth in all of Brooklyn: Waffles covered in syrup, ice cream, chocolate bars from the local candy store, you name it. If it had sugar, Bucky was most likely to eat it and come back for seconds.
He had a small, barely-there smile on his face as he stirred the syrup around with a fork. There was also a glass of orange juice on a bench next to him, accompanied by a whipped cream can with a note that said, “Just in case you’re feeling a little bland,” with a winky face underneath it.
Did Stark really do this? It was a good question, considering that he nearly choked the man to fucking death just mere weeks ago. But, at the same time, he could understand why, even if it was just slightly.
This was a truce. And you could catch Bucky dead before he even thinks about rejecting the gift.
~
“Hey, look who’s up! How’s it going, Hot Topic?” Sam called out the instant Bucky set foot in the kitchen.
He glared, only slightly playful, before setting a half-empty plate and glass onto the counter by the sink. As much as he tried, Bucky couldn’t keep all that food down long enough for him to not ruin Stark’s sofa, so he just did his best. And his best was the most food he’s eaten in over forty years.
Steve practically beamed at him, and shooed Bucky aside as he began washing the dishes up. He did it with pride, like a mother who found out their son’s gotten themselves a girlfriend; and the proud look definitely didn’t go unnoticed by Sam, who’s eyebrows shot up with an expression Bucky couldn’t quite put a finger on.
“So… Tony, huh?” Sam mused, taking a sip of his steaming coffee.
“What about ‘em?” He grumbled.
“You fell asleep on his couch and woke up to an improvised bouquet of food, and nearly ate all of it. You barely did that for Cap, if I remember correctly.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Steve spoke up, glancing over to both of them with a smile. “He ate, nevertheless.” He then turned to show his words were directed towards Bucky alone. “I knew that sweet tooth of yours would never die out.”
Bucky gave a half-lazy grin and looked down, toying with the plates in his metallic fingers. Words were still a thing he needed to work on, but Steve understood that.
He understood everything.
“You’re missing my point,” Sam sighed, setting his cup down just so that he could avoid spilling with his typical hand movements. “I haven’t known Tony for long, but even I know that was something he doesn’t do often. I mean, breakfast, really? At least ask for a date first--”
“Hey,” Steve interrupted, frowning. Bucky mimicked the look to hide the light blush across his cheeks.
Him and… Tony? That was one hell of a longshot, but the excited flip in his stomach didn’t really seem to care all that much.
No. Absolutely not. He didn’t have feelings for Tony i’m-a-billionaire Stark. No way in hell.
The conversation stopped there when Sam got a call from somebody and left the room. Neither Steve or Bucky brought up that accusation. They moved on with their day and he was absolutely relieved at how fast they got over that.
Thank god.
~
Okay, Bucky might have some feelings when it came to Stark.
The man was nice and didn’t do anything to harm Bucky or his friends just yet. And the added bonus? Tony never brought up the incident that happened in the lab not long ago. He stayed neutral and friendly enough, and never took away Bucky’s privileges of where he could and could not go.
It eventually became a routine.
Bucky would have a nightmare, sneak out to the lab, and usually Tony'd be there working on some project of his, only fueled by determination and more cups of coffee than humanly possible.
No talking, just being; staying in each other's presence until one decides that sleep is inevitable. It's comfortable, and the progress and pleased looks from Bucky's therapist says it all:
He's improving, he is. Slowly, but improving nevertheless. He talks more, eats more, and even cracks a few jokes from time to time. Yes, he still has his moments, but that's just a side effect of it all.
“It's a miracle he's even this stable, y'know. Barnes’ has seen more than enough for one lifetime,” He had overheard Delilah tell Steve one afternoon.
They were in the communal kitchen going over some tactics Steve could use during his missions. Bucky wasn't allowed to do more, let alone get into a fight for as long as it took for him to mentally heal. But he still wanted to put some contribution into the team so that he didn't feel completely useless.
Bucky's had his fair share of time working on enemy lines; enough to know what their protocols are, and enough to safely strategize the best plan of attack. If he was thinking things correctly, HYDRA wouldn't even have time to switch up every plan route without getting interfered with the Avengers.
It'll happen eventually, when time catches up. They'll switch to a new system that operates away from the code built into his system. From there, they're on their own decided terms, and then maybe Bucky’s uselessness would become known like all his nightmares had shown-- had predicted.
“I dunno, man. It's going to be hard shielding ourselves with the wings being involved so quickly. I'd have to drop you off somewhere that'll give me time to pull up away from bullets, and that includes somewhere off away from your team, too.” Sam explained one morning. Bucky watched as Steve's faced twisted up into some sort of unwanted agreement, then settle more neutral to show that Captain America didn't give a goddamn fuck about his safety.
It was such a familiar look: Steve gave that face every time he was told he couldn't do something because of his frail little body. He'd puff his chest out all determinedly, jut his chin, and anybody could practically hear the gears turning in that idiot head of his.
“Nat's got my back, Tony's got infiltrating, and you've got the sky.” Steve nodded, glancing towards Bucky as a subtle way to say sorry you can't help because of course he knows how much it hurts to watch everyone go fight without him. “I don't care what you do, just get me close to the enemies and we'll work our way in from there.”
“So that's the plan? Jump in, take 'em out, then go?” Bucky asked, voice quiet and hesitant.
“Hardly,” Sam scoffed. It earned him a roll of eyes from both super-soldiers.
He sure was an awful lot like Steve's Ma’.
Tony walked right in to most likely shoot down their plans and get another unneeded cup of coffee, when he stopped midway through the door frame, empty cup trembling in his hand lightly. He looked as if he hadn't gotten sleep in days, and that was most likely the case. Why has he stopped in the first place? Now, that was a question even Steve looked to be unsure of.
And it wasn’t like Bucky had done anything. He just hasn’t been able to acknowledge his thanks for the food yet, so whatever’s wrong with Tony is beyond him.
He gave Steve that “I don’t know what’s going on,” look and promptly stared back down at the floor.
Sam was the first to break the uncomfortable silence with a “I'll see you guys around,” while glancing across the room, before hurriedly showing himself out, followed by Delilah who took it as a cue to follow. Bucky didn't miss the guy staying with them, per say, but didn't like how quickly he fled the scene. It would've counted as suspicious if it weren't for the obvious look in his eyes.
They got along pretty well; Sam and Tony. On one hand, Sam was usually the one who initiated the conversations between them since he probably saw the benefit in it, and Tony, on the other hand, was never really one to turn down an opportunity to talk to someone sensical. And miracle of miracles, Sam also happened to work with PTSD sufferers on a daily basis. With that around, there's no doubt Tony'll be getting some sort of therapeutic/friend talk later when this all settles-- If this all settles.
Whatever’s going on with Tony resides deep in Bucky’s bones, and he squirms a bit uncomfortably at the feeling.
He should be punished. For what, he doesn’t really know. Tony seems upset and Bucky feels obligated to take the blame, per usual. It’s the comforting hand on his shoulder that startles him back to reality, tuning in on the coffee maker bubbling with life as Steve stares at him worriedly.
“Bucky? You okay?” He asks, eyes insistent and bluer than ever.
“Yeah,” Bucky manages to croak out. How long was he just staring at nothing? He doesn’t want to ask in fear that it’d be a ridiculously long time.
Judging by the confused look on Stark’s tired face and the absence of the cup that used to be in his hand, Bucky must’ve been spaced out for a full minute, at best. He trails his eyes up the engineer’s body, lingering on the oil stain patching his long sleeve, grey shirt, before pulling his gaze up to meet those brown eyes.
He stares, waiting; feels his heart skip a beat.
Steve saves the day and replaces his look of worry with a crooked smile, glancing over to where Bucky’s focus was caught. “I was just telling Tony how you ate the waffles he made. He guessed right with the syrup, huh Buck?”
Tony flashed a small, rare smile and Bucky felt himself buzzing out his goddamn skin.
“S’good,” He nodded, smooth as ever, aside from the hitch in his breath. “You make ‘em better than the ones in the Waffle House back on 63 Grand.”
“I didn’t make them,” Tony corrected, not-so-carefully grasping at the mug of hot coffee as he leaned back on the counter. “We have machines for it now. Pour in the batter, wait for ‘em to cook, and set the machine for toppings.”
Steve pulled a face: one of those “I’m too old for this,” types and patted Bucky’s shoulder, before quickly briefing over the meeting he has with Fury coming up. Tony just nodded, tensed up, and dismissed the blond with a wave of his hand.
Now it was just them. Alone.
The tension was back, but it was different this time. It was more malleable and easier to deal with, and instead of the silent fear that was usually interlaced into it, the feeling turned out to be simply awkward.
If they weren’t in the lab, they were minding their own business. Now Steve has left them to get their bearings right and Bucky wasn’t too sure if he was relieved, worried, or happy.
Or maybe all three.
“As I was saying,” Tony continued. “I'm glad you liked it. Maybe I'll build another version so you can have some anytime you want.” He was avoiding eye contact as much as Bucky was, but the tension in his shoulders gradually decreased when no threat became immediate.
To be completely honest, Bucky was more than surprised to even have the other talking to him, let alone offer making a machine just so he could satisfy his sweet-tooth.
It was nice, made Bucky feel all fuzzy and appreciative.
“You're not going to let me say no to this, are you?” He joked quietly.
Tony shook his head and snickered. “No, no I'm not.” He paused for a moment to sip his cup of coffee. Bucky watched as his eyes lit up, only partly from the sudden source of caffeine. “You could help me with it, if you want. As long as you don’t touch everything like your buddy American Blond does.”
That caused Bucky's face to heat up and a light, rosy color to appear up his neck, fading out along his high cheekbones. That was the biggest offer he could ever get; it felt disorienting to know this wasn't another one of his elaborate dreams, for once.
He thought on it for a moment just to fake consideration as to not seem so eager, then came up with an answer:
“Would ya keep Steve out of it?”
It wasn't that he wanted to exclude his best friend from possibly the best chance he's got at being trusted again, but at the same time, Bucky really doesn't want to deal with a bunch of teasing he knows is inevitable.
He swears Steve's got some sort of radar on him nowadays. Maybe it was from all those years Bucky spent teasing him, but either way, when there's somebody he's interested in, Steve always finds a way to know; and to make matters worse, he's got no shame at blatantly exposing Bucky to embarrassing things. Granted, how they went about treating situations was a little different now that his mind is haywire, but that hasn't stopped the blond from making a fool out of him in front of Nat or Sam.
“I'll see what I can do,” Tony replied, existing the room with a wink.
Bucky was absolutely, infuriatingly screwed on keeping his feelings under wraps. And that meaning has two very distinct definitions that’d he’d rather not think about right now.
At least he knows what he meant.