Chapter 1
"It's okay guys! Good job" the director's voice stopped the activity "Go grab your lunch. I want you all here by four" Steve checked his wrist watch. Half past one. Well, that was okay; it gave him three hours and a half to pretend to eat his disgusting healthy food and steal something from the common dining room.
"Fucking finally man! I was about to combust" Sam whined tearing off his hat "I swear to you blondie, I'm this close to throw my shitty script to the director's face and quit this" he said putting his index and thumb nearly touching. Steve snickered while fighting with his tunic. "It's not that bad" he said "At least you don't have to put on all this costume".
Sam gave him an unimpressed look "Really man? You're all happy putting your prince's clothes on, they match your ego" he threw him a hoodie. Steve looked at it with a disgusted face, helding the fabric between two fingers, like it would gave him some kind of disease. "What? Are you gonna look at it with that shitty expression for long?" Sam asked by the door "Don't be such a brat. Put the dam hoodie and move, I'm hungry" Steve threw that thing on and repressed a mocking shudder. "Why is my hoodie this colorfull? It's giving me a headache" he whined pitifully "I don't even like bright colors". Sam laughed while Steve followed him to somewhere to eat and nudged him with the shoulder "You know, I promised you not to tell your little secret to anybody; but I didn't say nothing 'bout teasing".
Steve stopped his way and groaned loudly, ignoring the annoyed look his coworkers gave him for blocking the hall "I knew I shouldn't have told you nothing!" he yelled, but hurried after Sam, who was bussy laughing. Steve supressed a lopsided smile and glared at his friend, who chose to ignore him. He sighed in defeat and said nothing, knowing well that Sam was only messing with him. If any other person would tell him a that joke he would probably punch their face right then and there; but that was Sam. They had been friends for a long time now, and Steve knew he was nearly the only person who could trust on. Besides, he was on the team of People Steve Tolerates (it was an incredibly small team); and he was on the group of People Who Tolerates Steve (it was even an smaller group).
That was okay.
Steve's intentions of stealing food from the dining room where broken by Sam, who passed the room and picked a smaller and more intimate one. They sat together in a desk, both slumping in their seats and opening their food-cases, sighing in unison at their ecually healthy and disgusting food. "I can't believe they make us eat this" Steve whined like a kid "It's bland, and weird, and... Repugnant"
"Say that again" Sam agreed, and both of them started picking at their food, without actually eating it. The door opened again, revealling a tall, slim, redhead woman. "Hey Nat" Steve couldn't bring himself to greet his friend, still disheartened because of his food. "What's up with your faces?" Natasha asked greeting Sam with a tap on the shoulder. She opened her case, and the smell of red meat and potatos filled the room. Steve cried out and banged his head on the table "I'm done" his voice was muffled by the wood "I've been eating this shit for three months know. I'm gonna quit the diet. I'm gonna eat a burger the size of my head tonight. With fries. And nuggets. And a pizza slice".
"You know you're not gonna do that" she said simpathetically. Steve sighed and nodded; he wouldn't. He couldn't do that to his body. They ate while chatting about the film when the man on the tv started talking about Steve. "We've recently known that Sharon Carter has broken up with Steve Rogers, well known Hollywood actor. Sources close to the pair had revealled that Sharon had enough of Rogers, famous for his plenty crushes and flirting with his castmates and pretty models. Many of his ex-girlfriends had said that Steve was not 'boyfriend material', that he was-"
Steve looked at Natasha, who had the remote in her hand and had turned off the tv. He couldn't see Sam, but he knew he was giving him the What The Fuck Man? look. He let his body fell against the back of the seat and rubbed his face with a hand. "What the fuck, man?" see? He was right. "Yeah, what the fuck, Steve?" Nat asked "Sharon broke up with you? When were you gonna tell us?"
"She didn't; I did" Steve said slowly. Sam gave him a confused look and pointed the tv "Two days ago, I don't know how they know it or who had told them all that crap. I didn't knew how to tell you; you love her".
"Of course we love her!" Sam exclaimed "She's been the best girl you've had ultimately, what did you want?" Nat nodded in agreement "What happened to you? You were good!"
Steve shrugged with a shoulder; he didn't know what to tell them 'cause he didn't know the reason either. "Don't know... I wasn't feeling it". Nat's mouth hanged open. "Feeling it? You weren't feeling it?" Sam sounded personally ofended "Would you elaborate, please?" he asked in a false calm tone. Steve shrugged again (he seemed to do that a lot lately). Sam glared him. "Steve, 'I wasn't feeling it? it's not a reason for a 9 month relationship"
"I don't really know!" Steve whined defensive "I didn't feel like being with her anymore, simple as it".
"Simple?!" Nat hit the desk with her hand "9 monts Steve! The longest relation you have in years and you suddenly dump her? Just because?" Natasha looked personally ofended by Steve. He understood her. Natasha has known Sharon for longer than him, and even if they weren't bests friends, Nat considered her a good friend. "Fuck Steve! I told you not to fool her, I personally asked you not to! And you couldn't keep your dick in your pants. For fucks sake!" She stood abruptly and glared him. He could feel his ears growing hot.
"I didn't fool her. I've been 9 months with her, that's not fooling someone" he said defensive. Sam sighed, looking like a disappointed father "What happened Steve? Let's be clear, you've been a asshole so many times, but it seemed different with Sharon" Steve didn't even protest. "Shes's a good person, one of the bests I know" he said "And she didn't deserve living a lie. I don't love her".
"God" Nat sighed "You know what happens now, no Sam?" she asked the man "Now he's gonna start going to a hundred of parties, get wasted almost every weekend, chase bed after bed and then cry until someone cleans his mess" she pointed between them "And it's gonna be us, like always!" she turned and looked at him. Steve's breath caught up in his throat. Her eyes shone brightly with anger (Nat never cried). "You're doing it again. You push all the good people away from you. The only real people you hang out with is us! You know what? I can't deal with this right now. I've got my own problems. See you later" Nat, the usually collected and calm Nat, slamed the door when storming out of the room.
Steve gaped at the door, not believing what had just happened. "What was that?" he asked Sam "It's not the first time I'm single, what the...?" he looked at his friend for help, but the only thing he got was a tired look and a head shake. "You can really blame her, Rogers? She looks out for you, you know it. Wait until she cools down, she'll come around" They stood in silence for a little bit. "Steve, sorry man, but I've gotta ask. This break up, this whole 'I don't love her' has something to do with... You know" he finished his sentence in a murmur, like he was afraid of someone under the table could hear them.
"With me liking guys?" Steve finished for him. He shook his head "No Sam, it has nothing to do with it. I've liked boys too since I was a teenager. Nobody knows 'cause my first manager told me to keep it in secret, and then I didn't find the moment to say it. But it's not new" he rubbed his face "It's like... I don't know. I woke up this day and realise Sharon it's not the person I wanna be with. Something is missing. I don't know what it is, but it wasn't there".
"For someone who never falls in love, you sound pretty sure of how does it feel" Sam comented with a sigh. "I've seen the people around me fall in love plenty of time. I've seen the way Maria and you, Tony and Pepper are with each other. We weren't like that".
"She loves you, you know that too, right?" Steve didn't say anything. He knew it; he knew it for good. Sharon had been the best partner he had had since he was famous. The guilt ate him alive.
"You know? You should be more gratefull, you little shit" he said "You should be here, thanking me that I have give you a roof, a bed, food... You should be killing rats for me" he stood up from besides the sofa and heard his knee crack "And instead, you've destroyed my cushion" he took the cotton and looked at the cat, who looked back with a bored expression and resumed his paw-licking activity. Bucky sighed in defeat and threw the cotton.
It was a mistery why he kept that evil thing in his house. He had appeared one day on his sill protecting himself from the rain. Something in Bucky's heart had pushed him to take the small animal in his hands and save him from the wild homless life; he even had an smaller leg! How could someone threw that little ball of fluff out? Saving the cat had made him feel a little more himself, but that odl Bucky-self died when the cat threw his mask away. He was the devil, a grumpy young cat who enjoyed giving him a hard time (life). Clint said they were soulmates.
Winter (yeah, Bucky had named him Winter Soldier, Clint would never let it down; but, who cared? He was so fucking proud of the name) sat on his lap when he settled himself in the couch. He refused to pet the grouchy animal, but while letting his mind busy itself with the inmensity of the universe, his right hand fell and pet the little grey head. He would never admit it out loud, but even with his behaviour, he loved his Soldier. They were a little army themselves.
He jolted when his phone started biping. Clint's message lighted up the screen.
Hawkeye: Hey Soldat, you busy?
He replied with a short Petting Winter and waited with the phone in the hand. He know Clint too well, he would answer in no time.
Hawkeye: Stop that, it's lame; you're lame. It's friday night. Come out with Nat and I; get laid, get wasted, whatever you want. But come.
He snorted. Lame? Him? He wasn't lame. He was a veteran, he was allowed to stay at home petting his cat on a friday night. Get laid? What the fuck? He didn't need to get laid. He frowned strongly and started typing furiously when another message came.
Natty: Ignore Clint, he's lame. We're at Hydra. I'll ask you a beer, okay?
He sighed in defeat and erased Clint's message. There was no way he could say no to Nat. Even if she could be the most scary and cold person in the whole world, for him, she was the sweetest person, the only who understood him. Besides Winter. He could always count with his grumpy personality.
With a huge effort, he stood up apologizing to the cat and migratted to his room, where he stood looking through his wardrobe with a hopless expression. He didn't like going out in public for various reasons, but his wardrobe was one of them.
The problem was he didn't like doing laundry because the washing machine was incredibly loud and succeded to give him a panic attack whenever it went on (the first time he listened it back in his parents house, he went on full soldier mode, scaring the shit out of his family); so he always wait until there was real need of using it.
By now every cloth he was ever confortable with was in the laundry basket, waiting for him to put up with his pathetic excuse of life, and the only clothing he had left were a few things from before the war. Bright, colorfull, happy clothing with short sleeves (or no sleeves). The happy mood of the cloth didn't match his personality anymore, so he wasn't confortable with them.
Plus, he was missing an arm.
He went trough a pile of t-shirts with cocky messages on their front (what the hell happened with his old self?) until his hand touched a too thick blue hoodie with no message (if you didn't count a smily face like a message). He looked at the garment for a couple of minutes before shrugging and putting it on.
Hydra wasn't far from his flat. With his right hand stucked inside the pocket and his left side hided by the wall, he quickly made his way, willing to arrive there. He knew it was a childish behaviour, but he didn't feel safe on open spaces. In closed ones either. His life was a mess, he thought sadly.
"Hey Buck! Here!" Clint's voice was audible above the place's noise, making Bucky flinch lightly and curse himself. He hurried to the table dodging people and waiters. It was a calm bar in Brooklyn, with wooden tables and tall chairs, soft music and quiet murmur of people. It was noce, nothing like the horrendous and noisy places where young people went to have fun. He felt guilty for making his friends to ditch those bars in order to hang out with him, but he couldn't bring himself to go there. To many posible threats.
"Hey guys" he took a sip of his beer, suddenly realising how dry his mouth was, and sat down on a chair, leaving his left side facing the wall. Always. "How ou've been? It's been a while"
"Cool man, I've been packing the whole week. It's giving me a headache. You know how moving is" Clint whined "Is that a smily face? It's a smily face. What's now? You're making an irony, you kno that?" Bucky made a face to his friend. Why couldn't he shut up sometimes?
"Could been better" Nat ignored him and Clint made a pouty face, clearly expecting his joke would have had a better audience "The work is stressing me" she made a little sad face where she scrunched her nose and Bucky died at the adorableness. He sometimes thought that he and Clint were the only human beings who found Natasha endearing. "How have you been?"
Bucky knew that question enclosed a deep meaning, he knew they wanted to know how was he putting with his new life; but he choose to answer with a joke. It's not like he was doing much better "Winter destroyed a cusion" he said pouting, making both his friends laugh. "Man, that cat's gonna be the death of you" Bucky opted to shut his mouth and stopped himself of telling them he would happily die because of a cat. Nobody needed his depressing thoughts.
They stood there for two hours and forty two minutes (Bucky would love to say he didn't count the time he passed out his flat, but it would be a big lie), drinking and chatting calmly, when Nat's phone lighted. She looked at the screen and made and incredibly pitifull sound for someone like Natasha. Clint's interest inmediatly perked up.
"What's going on? Why are you making that face?" he asked poiting an accuser finger at her. He tried to make it sound like a joke, but Bucky knew him better than that. He was so close to ask who had hurt Natasha. God, he was a goner.
She sighed that particular sigh of her, the one which ment that something was particularly bodering her in a major way. "It's nothing really. I shoulnd't be telling you" she said, but continued anyway. "Do you remember Steve?" he asked Clint; Bucky didn't know Nat's friends, besides Clint. He wasn't antisocial, like his friends said; he had a very busy life, thank you very much.
"Like Steve Rogers? How could I not remember him? His face is pretty much everywhere. And his kind of a dick" he said, the last part clearly to Bucky. He shrugged, why would matter to him that a guy who didn't know was a dick?
"He's not that bad" she didn't put much of effort defending her friend, so Bucky assumed it was true. "This has something to do with Sharon Carter breaking up with her?" Clint asked out of blue. "What?" he asked when his friends looked at him surprised "I've got plenty free time now" he shrugged. Nat nodded sceptically, knowing well that Clint loved gossip to much for his own good.
"He did" she said paying no atention to Clint's squeal. "Apparently he 'wasn't feeling it'. So he left her. Can you believe it? He broke up with her!"
Bucky looked unsure "What's the problem?" he asked. He didn't understand the fuss. "I mean, couples break up constantly. If he wasn't feeling like it, he had to break up". Nat looked at him gaping. She seemed personally ofended by that.
"Sorry, I forgot you were like Rogers, always running away of relationship" he didn't say anything. "Anyway, now his a mess. Again. It's the second time I've got to cover up a scandal this week. The police caught him driving drunk with two people in the car" she sighed and covered her face with her hands. "Why I'm even doing this? I'm not his manager!"
"'Cause you're a great person and an excellent friend" Clint said, and Bucky managed succesfully not to gag; he was nice as that. Nat smiled sweetely. "The problem is" she said "He doesn't have many friends, like, real friends. The only ones are Sam Wilson and I" well, two friends, Bucky thought. Much like him. What's the problem? "He needs people to put him on the Earth. He would need someone to talk to, someone new who would understand him, not judge... Someone who would understand what being alone means..."
Bucky wasn't looking at them anymore; he was busy finishing his alcohol free beer. He didn't understand why people enjoyed drinking. Well, he did, he used to enjoy it, but, anyway. He wasn't looking at them, so he was completely missing the elocuent looks Natasha was sending him. In his defence, why should he be interested in some actor's life? He was barelly interested in his own life.
That's why he took a couple of minutes to register the lack of conversation.
"What?" he looked up to see both his friends looking at him, Clint with an over excited smile and Nat with an extremely bored expression. "What?" he asked again, in case his friends didn't listen to him the first time.
"You weren't listening" it wasn't a question per se, but he felt the need to shake his head like as answer. Natasha sighed (again) and repeated "I said, it would be good to you to meet Steve. For both of you".
"Why? Why should I meet him? I'm good like this" he really was.
"For God's sake man" Clint said "You're barelly out of your apartment, you only keep in touch with us and you're like a grumpy old man. You're twenty eight! You should be doing crazy things with new people, no hiding in the closet!" the words went directly to Bucky's gut, making it twist.
"You're mean" he said like a small child, and Clint grunted exasperated. Nat threw him a look. "You know we're only concerned about you James" she said softly "You haven't even called your mother this week, she was so worried". Why did his mother talk with Natasha he had no idea. "It could be good for you too to meet someone with a diferent life". When did they start talking about him?
"I don't need a babysitter, thank you. I'm pretty capable of living with me". He looked at Clint bitterly, even if he knew the man only wanted the best for him. "If I bother you that much" he said "Maybe you should stop calling me". Clint's face flamed red, and he looked like he wanted to say something, but Nat's hand over his made him think better. Bucky wished he didn't. He was much more confortable with violence that with everything else.
"You don't mean that Barnes" he said plainly. No, of course he didn't; but it wasn't the time to back out. He would call him in the morning.
"I'm going home" was the only thing he said before storming out of the bar. Great. Now his friends were angry at him and he had to do the walk home alone. He took two breaths and practically raced home, trying not to think of every threat.
At home, Winter eyed him from his spot in the sofa, once Bucky changed into his pijama and took a seat in his usual spot. "Don't look at me like that, you traitor" he reprimanded. The animal turned around and hid. Somewhere.