Chapter 4
four
Steve was waiting for him when Bucky entered the living room with a mug of steaming chamomile tea in his hand. The blonde supersoldier was sitting loosely on the couch, but Bucky wasn't fooled by the casualness of it all. His old best friend was just as tense as he was.
"Hey, Buck." Steve looked a little disappointed when the former Winter Soldier decided to sit in the armchair next to the sofa rather than with him, but wisely chose not to comment upon it. "Popcorn?" He offered up the bowl that had been balanced on his lap.
"I'm good." Bucky shook his head slightly and glanced at the TV. Why had he agreed to this? At least it was a movie and not dinner...he didn't think he'd be able to handle having to keep up two whole hours of conversation. "What are we watching?"
Steve colored a little. "I wasn't really sure, so I thought we could just watch a lighthearted cartoon or something instead...how do you feel about 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas'?"
Bucky snorted. "Doesn't sound very lighthearted to me."
The blonde shrugged abashedly, chewing on a piece of popcorn. "Christmas is around a month from now, so it's not too far off. And Natasha said it seemed appropriate."
"And you'd trust her but not Stark, right?" Bucky said, going for casual amusement. However, it came out a little more bitter and--defensive?--than he'd intended, and an awkward silence passed between the two. The darker-haired man shook his head. "Just play the movie, alright?"
"'Course." Steve fumbled a little with the remote but finally managed to press play, and eventually the atmosphere settled into something less heavy as the two supersoldiers watched the tufty green fellow known as the Grinch march all over Whoville, features twisted in an ugly grin.
Halfway through the movie, Bucky's sensitive ears caught a slight clanging noise in the vent above his head, and automatically looked up, his muscles ready to launch himself off the chair if need be. Steve glanced up too, a worried expression on his face. They both gave miniscule sighs of relief when the grate popped open only to reveal a smirking Clint Barton, the archer wiggling nimby through the square and dropping onto the carpet. "What're you both watching?"
Steve shook his head. "Should've known it was you crawling up there, Clint."
The shorter man shot him a quick grin before plopping down on the sofa as well, making himself comfy and pillowing his head on his arms. "You guys are watching 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas'?"
Steve nodded, and Clint's mouth stretched even wider, showing white, even teeth. "I love that movie. Even if my own Christmases have always been shit."
"Hopefully Stark's planning something for this year," Steve said over the racket on the television screen. "I think we could all do with a little holiday cheer."
Clint snorted. "Ha, yeah, but I doubt the guy would actually cut some money out of his billion dollar budget to do something for us. You would think he'd lose his pettiness and buy us some decent gifts to apologize, but knowing him, he won't."
Sitting silently in the dark, Bucky, for some reason, felt oddly uncomfortable listening to Steve and his friend rag on the billionaire. Perhaps it was because he'd seen vulnerability in Stark's expression last night, even though the man had been incredibly drunk. Maybe it was the way Stark tensed whenever Bucky was around him, like he was waiting for the Soldier to snap. It was weird, really, how everyone seemed to talk about Tony Stark so much--as if instead of just hating him, they loved to hate him.
He kept quiet though, eyes trained on the TV. He wasn't going to involve himself in this. He was done with all the baggage that came with being, well, him. If his best friend didn't like the guy who was feeding, clothing, arming, and housing them all, so be it.
Steve and Clint continued chuckling throughout the rest of the movie, eventually leaving the subject of Stark and moving onto other, easier, topics. Bucky could hardly hear what was happening with the Grinch, and felt the sudden impulse to strangle the both of them so that they could just. Shut. Up. He even grabbed the remote, which he'd familiarized himself with a little during his rehabilitation in the hospital, to dial the volume higher. But everything kept beating in his head, the persistent droning of the other two men like annoying flies in his ears. He was beginning to think maybe Stark only acted so repulsive (as Steve had mentioned) so that the other Avengers would leave him alone. Even before Bucky had fallen from the train decades ago, despite being a brash and flirtatious young man, he still liked to have peace and quiet sometimes. Of course, his time as a brainwashed, cold-blooded killer only furthered that want. Everything was just so loud all the time nowadays.
Oddly enough, his brain reminded him of Stark, and the man's empty rambling when they'd all been first introduced back to the newly renovated Tower. For some reason, Bucky hadn't minded the man's constant chatter. He'd found it soothing, in a way, even if the Tower itself still put him on edge.
Snapping back to reality, he realized that the movie had ended and some wonky music was playing from the flat screen mounted on the wall. "--Buck. Bucky. Bucky? Are you okay?" Realizing that Steve was talking to him and that both the blonde and Clint were staring at him with twin looks of concern, Bucky shook his head.
"Sorry, I'm a little off today. Wasn't paying attention."
"Yeah, looked like you were hypnotized or something for a second," Clint joked before freezing. The archer fidgeted a little. "Sorry, man. Poor taste."
"It's fine." Bucky stood up, glancing at Steve. "Hey, Stevie, sorry to leave so quickly, but the movie kind of made me tired. I think I'm going to just head back to my room now."
"So soon?" Steve said, looking a little hurt. "I've still got some popcorn left."
"It's okay, I can finish it with you," the archer interjected quickly, shooting Bucky a friendly look--surprising considering just months ago he'd been bloodthirsty and deadly. "He looks pretty exhausted, Steve."
"Okay. G'night, Buck."
"Night, Steve." Bucky walked out and down the hall, mind already set. As he left the living room where his ex-best friend and the other Avenger were, he'd decided: from now on, he would stop hanging out with Steve so much. If he continued, it would be so much harder to form a concrete opinion on Tony Stark. Everyone had so many opinions, it seemed, except for Bucky himself. So he would judge the guy based off of his own interactions, not what other people said. And to do that, he couldn't only hang around the ones who hated him--after all, there was that dame, Pepper, whom Steve had spoken briefly yet highly about. And Rhodes, the handicapped man, as well as Vision, seemed nice enough. After all, even if Stark were truly the psychopath the once-fugitive Avengers claimed he was, maybe he'd end up being the very medicine Bucky needed.