Bucky was sitting at the kitchen island, minding his own business and munching on a bowl of cereal when Natasha walked in, far too casually to be anything but on a mission. Bucky stuffed another spoonful of cereal in his mouth hoping that if his mouth was full he’d be left alone.
He really should have known better.
“Did you hear about Barton?”
Natasha went to the coffee maker, sliding a mug under the dispenser and hitting an overly-complex number of buttons; she moved to lean against the counter while the coffee maker worked it’s magic. Bucky flicked his eyes up to look at her, then back down at his bowl and grunted noncommittally.
“He’s off-rotation for awhile. Broke his leg.”
Bucky’s concentration on his bowl intensified.
The smell of coffee began to permeate the air, and Natasha went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of creamer; she removed her mug from under the coffee maker and took her time fixing her coffee. Bucky knew what she was doing- silence was an effective interrogation technique for a reason. He continuing to focus on his cereal; he could feel her eyes on him, but resisted the temptation to look up. He knew if he made eye contact he’d be in trouble.
There was quiet another moment except for the sounds of their spoons on their respective dishes, and then-
“Do you know how he hurt himself?”
Bucky risked a brief glance up from behind his hair, and was thankful that Natasha was looking in a cabinet, poking through the current Pop-Tart selection. He was under no illusions that she wasn’t completely aware of his attention. He decided to risk a response.
“No?”
She plucked a packet of Pop-Tarts from the cabinet- Blue Raspberry, they must be for Barton- and took them from the wrapper before popping them into the toaster oven. Bucky could feel sweat start to break out at his hairline as she got a small plate from the drainer by the sink.
“He had some problems with his shoelaces. Seems someone tied them together while he was napping.” She started to turn back to face him and he quickly looked back down; shoot, he was almost out of cereal.
“Oh.” Yeah, that was smooth. Concerned, but not too concerned; and definitely not involved. Nope.
“Mmhmm. There was a call-out, he was still half asleep, didn’t notice until he got to the stairs and then-” Natasha made a whistling sound followed by a ‘splat’ noise. Bucky winced, but he figured that would be a normal reaction for anyone to have.
“It’s a miracle that his leg is all he broke, really. If I were the person who’d done that to him, I would feel pretty bad about it. And all that bruising...” Natasha clucked her tongue.
The toaster oven dinged, and Natasha carefully pulled the pastries onto the waiting plate, nabbing a napkin and an apple before she left the kitchen. Bucky was just breathing a sigh of relief when Natasha popped her head back in through the doorway, and Bucky choked on his mouthful of cereal. Natasha fixed him with a Look he could feel in his bones.
“If you see the person who was responsible-” Natasha’s eyes narrowed, and Bucky could swear the temperature in the room dropped. “Let them know that Clint’s favorite pizza is meat lover’s, and he has a penchant for Stewart’s grape soda. Just as a start.”
Bucky swallowed, catching his breath, and he nodded, voice gruff and quiet. “I’ll- I’ll be sure to let them know.”
Natasha nodded, job done, and spun on her heel and disappeared as silently as she’d come.