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When Bucky had returned to Steve’s life, he’d had very few possessions: His clothes, his weapons, his muzzle, and his rocks.
Three of those four things were provided by Hydra – the last had been his little secret.
A secret Soldier had shared with Steve.
“What you got there?” Steve had asked.
And the Soldier couldn’t not answer a question. “Rocks,” he answered in English, though Steve’d learned he preferred Russian. Despite his super soldier brain, an intensive course with Nat, and a language app on his phone, he hadn’t quite gotten the hold of the language.
“Rocks?”
Soldier nodded once and didn’t say more.
Steve looked at them. They were barely more than pebbles, some so small they could easily disappear under a shoe. But they were pretty. Ordinary, for the most part – but pretty.
“I kept them in my pocket,” he was told a few days later, when Bucky was sorting the rocks by the kitchen table. His focus on them was so keen, it was almost adorable. “They’re so small, Hydra didn’t think anything of them. But they’re mine. We collected them on missions.” A little bit of a Russian lilt sneaked its way into that last part.
It was his oldest possessions, and he’d managed to keep them through trials and transfers.
On a late afternoon, they were expecting company. Most of the other Avengers would visit for the biweekly potluck, and it was Steve, and thus, Bucky’s, time hosting. Steve had put on swing-covers of modern songs – he always got a wicked kick from seeing Tony’s mortification when he finally realized he was listening to Uptown Funk with a twist. A few garlic baguettes were toasting in the oven.
“You sure you’re alright with it?” Steve asked one last time as he put down the final plate.
Bucky was sitting at the kitchen island, moving his pebbles around as he’d taken a habit of doing when he needed soothing. The fact that he was doing it in front of Steve was a huge improvement: He’d confessed he’d done it since he’d arrived, hidden away in his room. This time, they were sorted after color, from palest to darkest.
“Mhm,” he grunted, not looking up. Steve wasn’t sure who was fronting – he was still getting a hang of the differences. Only Soldier was easy to recognize by his accent.
A knock on the door made the both of them flinch. Bucky all but flew from his chair and into his bedroom, the previous guest room that now served as his sanctuary.
Steve sighed, but didn’t call after him. “Hey, guys!” he greeted when opening the door.
“Steve!” Natasha stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Mhm, smells good!”
“Eh,” he said dismissively. “It’s frozen baguettes.”
“With garlic,” she said seriously. “Which mean you splurged.”
“Sure did! Even got the branded stuff.”
She mock-gasped. “Steve! You spoil us.”
“Incoming.” Tony easily snuck in behind her, thrusting a bottle of wine in each of Steve’s hands.
The biweekly potluck was a good way for them to bond, sharing food in the comfort of their quarters instead of the communal kitchen. Today, the guest list consisted of Natasha, Tony, Bruce, and Sam. Bruce and Sam were the only people who brought actual homecooked food – Bruce, a gigantic bowl of salad (which Tony was quick to compare to Bruce’s alter-ego), and Sam, a ridiculous amount of grilled chicken breasts.
“They were prepped in the communal kitchen,” he said, almost apologetically. “Couldn’t carry chicken for two super soldiers all the way from home.”
“Speaking of the devil!” Tony clapped his hands together, looking around. “Where’s the other guy?” He frowned. “Guys? Or guy?”
“Tony.”
Tony looked at Nat.
She smiled sweetly at him. “Shut up.”
“What? I can’t ask questions? I just want to be polite, that not allowed?”
“He’s in his room,” Steve said, helping Sam redistribute the chickens on separate trays so they’d fit on the table. “Be nice. I think he’s nervous.”
It took a while before Bucky slinked out of his bedroom. He wasn’t fancily dressed, but then, neither was anyone else. This was an evening for comfort, not class. Tony usually ended up making that very clear.
Hidden in a hoody he’d stolen from Steve at some point, Bucky joined them while they were chatting in the kitchen and burrowed into Steve’s side. Not only Soldier, then, and definitely not the Asset. He was looking pensively at the others. Steve curled a protective arm around his shoulder.
“So,” Tony said, raising a glass of wine towards them and looking Bucky up and down as if assessing him. “Buckaroo… How may people’re we feeding tonight?”
Steve quietly thanked Natasha for her elbow colliding with the billionaire’s ribs.
“Uh…” Bucky shook his head. “Just me, I think…” He didn’t sound as clear as he usually did when he was “alone”, as he himself had called it. But since he was still clutching on to Steve, he was at least that comfortable. Even if he were lying to the others.
“How does it feel?” There was genuine curiosity in Tony’s voice. It shouldn’t have surprised Steve, Tony was a curious guy, after all. No, the surprise probably came from the sensitivity with which it was said. “I mean – did you know they were there all the time?”
Bucky shuffled. “Mhm… Yeah, most of the time. They’re not always all there, but usually, uh… There’s more than one.”
Tony made an impressed noise. He casually leaned on the kitchen island – easily scattering Bucky’s abandoned rocks. “Whoops, sorry! Anyway, I know a guy who’d love to take a peak sometime, if you were up for it. He’s a doctor, but that’s not really –“
Tony kept talking. Steve wasn’t sure Bucky listened. He himself had gone rigid, feeling the tension in the other man’s body.
It happened so quickly. Easily freeing himself from Steve’s arm, Bucky lunged at Tony with an almost animalistic scream.
“What the shit?!” the engineer shrieked, just before Bucky’s flesh hand swiped his face and he fell to the ground.
Steve had caught Bucky in mid-air, but Bucky was screaming and clawing at the air to get to him. “Bucky, stop it!” He hauled him over his shoulder, but a well-placed kick in his stomach made him drop him.
Bucky landed on the floor and got up and away before Steve could do anything. A growl sieved out from bared teeth as he prowled towards Tony, who’d gotten up from the floor.
“Солдат!” Natasha said sternly. “Oтступать!”
Whoever was in control ignored her and kept the course for Tony. Steve had gotten his bearings back and stepped in his path. “Stop it,” he said, trying to keep his voice firm, but non-aggressive.
The alter looked behind him with a dark scowl, face twisted in a snarl. He growled at Tony, who Sam had helped away to a safe distance. Bruce had left when the situation got too tense.
“I’m sorry!” Tony gasped, covering his just slightly bleeding chin. “I-I thought they were, I didn’t know –“
The alter flashed its canines with surprising muscle control.
“That’s enough.” Steve shooed him back towards the bedroom. “C’mon, Buck –“
At the name, the alter looked from Tony to Steve. The eyes were much too sharp, too vigilant – the eyes of a predator. But the body relaxed a bit. He cocked his head, just slightly.
Steve herded him into the bedroom. He tried touching him to help him sit down, but that made Bucky lash out and growl. So, Steve backed away.
Bucky prowled around the room, shoulders slouched, posture horrid, teeth bared. He kept to the wall, far away from the bed he never slept in, all the way to the little nest-like area he’d made for himself on the floor these pasts months. As if only noticing it now, he looked down on the hoodie and scratched at it. He wiggled his whole body, odd, jerky movements to get it off.
He kept his eyes on Steve.
“I want you to join us,” Steve said. “But I need you to cool down here first. Tony didn’t mean it. We’ll get all the rocks back, I promise.”
Bucky had shed most of his clothes, still glaring at Steve, but at least now, he seemed to be somewhat settled near his bedding.
Steve sighed. “Come out when you feel like it. I’ll save some food for you.”
The kindness of others never ceased to amaze Steve. When he came back to the room, the others had carefully searched the floors and collected the rocks. Now, they were neatly placed back on the island.
The mood slowly picked up during the evening, but it never reached the light-heartedness of when the guests had arrived. Tony’s scratch was superficial, and even without any serum or extraordinary healing factor, it looked better already when the food had been eaten.
They were eating dessert and drinking the rest of the wine when Steve picked up the faint sound of a doorhandle being pressed down. He looked towards the extra bedroom and saw Bucky – no, James.
It was James. Dressed in a pinstripe shirt and smart slacks, hair newly washed and combed back.
James cleared his throat when he’d come closer. His fingers twitched, probably itching to hide in his pockets, but Winnie Barnes hadn’t raised an impolite son. “I, uh… I had blood under my nails, so… I assume one of us, uh… hurt someone.” He looked at Tony and winced. “I’m guessin’ you?”
“Yeah.” Tony scoffed. “Dick move.”
“I’m sorry. That was Wolf… He’s… well…” He shrugged apologetically. “A wolf.”
Tony squinted. “You have a wolf living in your head?”
“Yeah…” James rubbed his neck. “He’s pretty protective… And a bit of a bully.”
Before anyone else could say anything, Sam piped up: “You hungry? Steve saved you a plate.”
James huffed. “Starvin’!”
Steve got up and reheated the food in the microwave. From the kitchen, he watched James apprehensively take a seat.
“I’m Natasha,” Nat said. “What can we call you?”
“I’m James.” He took her hand and kissed it. She smiled that coy smile only reserved for people she liked, and James was lucky – otherwise, he would’ve had his teeth knocked in.
Steve breathed a sigh of relief when the others, including Tony, made their introductions. James probably already knew who they all were. He’d been out more than anyone else. When Steve looked back on it, he’d probably fronted more than even Bucky in the beginning.
Still. It was nice to see everyone getting along.