Chapter 1
The mall was loud, the walls were bright, and people were everywhere. Bucky tilted his head down and squeezed his right hand, the hand clasped around it, Steve’s hand, squeezed back. Steve eyed Bucky without moving his head, Bucky looked a little nervous, his top lip pulled in, like he was biting it and his eyes had begun to dart towards the exits. Steve gave bucky’s hand another light squeeze. Bucky stopped biting his lip.
Steve and Bucky had just entered one of those department stores with a grocery store in it. Steve followed the signs hanging from the ceiling to where the food was
“I know it's hard, Buck. But just pick something, anything, whatever you want.”
Bucky looked around, they certainly hadn't had this many types of food in the 40s. Bucky had no idea what to pick, he doubted he had ever tasted most of this stuff, and even if he had, he didn't remember it. Not wanting to disappoint Steve, he decided to choose something on looks alone, a medium sized colorful bag, of some form of sweet. Bucky picked it up and looked at Steve wanting to find a clue in his face about what Steve thought of his choice, hoping for approval. Steve smiled, Bucky allowed himself to relax a little and placed the sweets in the shopping basket Steve had picked up at the door.
Steve was just relieved Bucky had picked something at all. It was part of Bucky’s whole recovery plan. The therapist had asked him to make a choice a day, it didn't matter what. It could be small like choosing what to eat or what to wear, or it could be bigger, whatever he felt comfortable doing. After all, the winter soldier or asset or whatever the hell Hydra had called him, hadn't had any choices, and Steve was determined to make sure that Bucky Barnes did. He had taken Bucky clothes shopping already, and now they had moved on to shopping for food. To Steve’s utter delight, Bucky picked not one, but two things during this trip. They were walking down the produce aisle when Bucky raised a gloved metal finger towards a shelf of fruit. Bucky then tugged Steve over to the shelf, right hand still clasped in Steve’s left. Bucky picked up a plum with his free, left, hand, he squeezed it lightly, Steve made to release Bucky flesh hand from his own so he could gage the ripeness himself, But Bucky hung on.
“Het”
“Would you like to speak english?” Steve asked. Bucky thought for a moment.
“Да”
“Don’t you want to see if it's ripe?” Steve questioned, referring to the plum.
“I can do it with this one”
Bucky responded. Gesturing with his left hand vaguely. Bucky placed the plum he had been holding and a few others in the basket, after testing each for ripeness. Steve assumed his metal arm could gage pressure somehow, and decided not question how that was even possible.
After Steve grabbed a few other, more substantial food items, they headed towards the checkout. Steve moving towards the counter with no line and started to place their haul onto the conveyor belt. Bucky clung silent to Steve’s side. The bored looking cashier looked up from her register, her mouth fell open.
“You’re Captain America!” Steve smiled,
“Yes ma'am!”
Steve hoped to god she wouldn't ask for a picture or autograph- he wasn't sure Bucky could handle releasing his hand. She seemed too stunned to say anything, and gave him the wrong change, deciding he’d rather not deal with anything right now, he grabbed the groceries and lead Bucky back to the motorbike. Steve loaded the groceries into a backpack and handed it to Bucky to put on. After Bucky had swung the bag over his shoulder, Steve made to let go of Bucky’s hand, Bucky released his hand. But his eye’s said it all, Steve could tell Bucky had no desire to let go;
“I gotta drive us back, Buck.”
Bucky bit his lip again and swung the other backpack strap over his other shoulder. Steve got on the bike and Bucky got on behind him. He placed his mismatched hands around Steve’s waist and put his head to Steve's neck.
“Ready?”
Steve questioned. Bucky nodded into Steve’s neck. Steve started up the bike and the engine revved, then they were off. Traffic was slow as usual, but Steve tried his best to get them back as soon as possible, travelling stressed Bucky.
Finally they made it back to the avengers complex. Steve pulled his bike up to the door, Bucky released Steve’s waist and Steve got off. He held his hand out to Bucky and Bucky grasped it, Standing and swinging his legs of the bike. A man in a suit and motorcycle gloves nodded his head to them, got on the bike and drove it around the building to the garage.
Steve and Bucky entered the building. Steve went to the private elevator and presed his hand to a little screen next to the door, the screen blinked green. Steve was holding Bucky’s right hand, he grasped Bucky’s left, and released his right. Bucky placed his hand to the screen and it blinked green again. The door opened and admitted them in. The stepped inside and the doors shut, then they began to rise steadily upward. Bucky’s metal hand was crushing Steve’s fingers, deciding Bucky’s security was more important than a few broken fingers that would heal in half an hour anyway, he let Bucky crush them. Lots of things stressed Bucky, elevators were another on a long list.
Finally after a painful (literally) aternity the elevator stopped and with a “bing!” the doors opened. Bucky almost dislocated Steve’s shoulder in his attempt to both escape the elevator and continue to hold Steve’s hand. Once they were out of the elevator, Steve led Bucky towards the kitchen to put the groceries away. Finally Bucky unclasped his hand from Steve’s. His fingers were definitely broken, It didn't matter though, he could barely feel any pain and he knew they would heal within the hour. Bucky sat down at the counter and watched with glazed eyes as Steve put away their food.
“Do you want something?” Steve inquired. “One of your Candys? A Plum?”
Bucky looked up, it looked as though he had been falling asleep, his head had been resting on his left hand, and his face had thin, pink, imprints from the plates of his metal palm. He rubbed his eyes with his right hand and looked up at Steve.
“You want anything?” Steve repeated.
Bucky thought for a moment before pointing to the bag of candy still on the counter. Steve handed Bucky the bag and watched as he fiddled with the plastic zip top before simply ripping it open.
“Thanks” Bucky muttered. Steve rarely heard Bucky's voice, when he did it was usually quiet, his words often a strange hybrid of English, Russian, and Romanian. Using the grammar of one with the words of another. Worse yet was when Bucky decided he didn't feel like speaking English at all and spoke in Russian for long periods of time, Steve was pretty sure Bucky knew he could barely understand him had the sneaking suspicion that Bucky did it on purpose, when he felt like talking but not being heard.
Bucky picked up an orange, sugar covered, gummi bear. He twirled it in his fingers for a moment before exclaiming:
“Это не выглядит медведем”
Having no idea what bucky had said, Steve decided to ask F.r.i.d.a.y.
“Friday, please translate what Bucky said”
“Certainly, sir. The sentence Sergeant Barnes just said can be is translatable in English to: ‘It does not look like a bear’”
Steve laughed,
“They really don't!”
The ends of Bucky's lips curled up into a smirk. He popped the sweet into his mouth.
Bucky must have decided he liked the candy because he continued to eat them, finishing almost half the bag. Steve, after finishing putting away their shopping, sat down on the stool beside Bucky. Before Steve could offer him some more substantial kind of food, a loud clattering interrupted him. Bucky snapped around, eye’s scanning for the source of the noise. Steve tensed, hoping something had just fallen over and that they weren't getting attacked. To Bucky’s confusion and Steve’s exasperation, it was neither of those things, instead it was the metal grate of an air vent falling to the floor from the ceiling. Steve put his face in his hands, and Bucky glared as Clint Barton lowered himself from the air vent towards the floor.
“Hey”
He said, his voice casual, reaching back up to retrieve a couple of his arrows that had fallen out of his quiver when he had been climbing out of the vent. Wearing sweatpants and a purple t-shirt, his hair a mess. It appeared he had just woken up.
“What are you doing!?” Steve questioned him.
“Target practice” he replied indicating his arrows and the bow he had also retrieved from the vent. Bucky continued to glare and Steve shook his head.
“I’m not going to ask why you were in the vents”
Clint shrugged. He proceeded out of the kitchen and down the hall towards the gym. Just as Clint had turned his back, another arrow fell from the vent opening. Steve called after him:
“You left an arrow!”
Clint kept walking, ignoring Steve’s voice completely.
“He can't hear you, you know.”
Steve almost peed himself. Natasha Romanoff was standing in the nearest doorway, smirking, apparently just coming up from her floor.
“What is the point of us all having our own floors if you guys come up here scare us all the time?!”
“Your floor is closest to the gym.” Natasha replied in a bored tone. She tilted her head from one side to the other.
“Why can’t Clint hear me?” Steve asked raising an eyebrow.
“He doesn't like to wear his hearing aids in the vents, apparently they can fall out and get lost too easily.”
“Hearing aids? Why does he-?”
“He’s 80% deaf, didn't you notice how he always looks at people when they talk? He has aids but he doesn't like to wear them much.”
Steve sat dumbstruck for a moment, looking down the hall were Clint had left a few moments earlier. How had he not known?
“It’s not in his file, I read!” Steve said confused.
“I didn't” Natasha responded referring to Clints file. “I guess he didn't want you to know, he probably changed the records. He can hear with the aids, so I guess SHEILD let him get away with it.”
“How come you know?” Steve hounded her.
“That's above your Clearance level, Rogers.” Natasha then walked down the hall the same way Clint had, on her way to the gym to join Clint in “target practice” if that's what it really meant.
“Can I have a plum?” Bucky’s quiet voice broke the silence.
“Yes! Of course!” Steve scrambled to fulfil Bucky’s request.
Steve sat with Bucky while he ate. When Bucky was finished, Steve put the candy bag in the cupboard and the bowl Bucky had used in the sink. It was nine thirty, Steve looked over to Bucky as he struggled to wash the plum juice from his metal hand, he was most likely tired, they had had a long day, first therapy then shopping.
“You tired, Buck?”
Bucky nodded and yawned. Steve waited as Bucky dried his hands. Steve then lead the way to their shared bedroom.
There were three bedrooms on their shared floor. That first night when they had finally found Bucky, free from Hydra, but very much broken. They had tried to put him in his own room. He had awoken in the night, screaming, tearing the mattress to shreds and punching a hole in the wall. Steve had hung a picture over the hole and no one went in that bedroom again. From then on, they slept together.
Bucky went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He returned from the bathroom and took off his shirt, throwing it in a dirty laundry basket. Then he pulled the hairband that had been keeping his hair in a messy little bun, out of his hair; letting it fall loose around his jaw. He was already wearing sweatpants, so he didn't need to change them. After setting the hairband on the bedside table, Bucky got into bed, curling himself into a ball and shutting his eyes.
Steve brushed his teeth, changed out of his jeans into pajamas and put on a tank top instead of of t-shirt. Steve then turned off the lights and got into bed next to Bucky, he rolled over onto his side, facing Bucky's back. Bucky shuddered a little. Steve moved in closer and rubbed circles into Bucky's back until his breathing calmed and his muscles relaxed.
It was pretty early, Steve had only gone to bed because Bucky wanted to. Steve lay awake for a while after Bucky had fallen asleep, listening to Bucky breath, happy to know they had conquered another day.