Things Bucky Barnes Doesn't Do Well

Keep A Secret

Bucky spends most of his time on Steve's floor. He doesn't often leave, which is fine. It's a comfortable place, with more state-of-the-art accommodations than he could ever use. Steve, and Stark's kid, have explained these to him several times. He smiles and nods and tries to look interested, but it's a struggle to keep focused on anything besides the roiling chaos in his brain for very long (much as he would like to).

As weeks pass, he gets a better handle on what's going on in his head, and feels a little more comfortable exploring the floor. He won't leave it on his own, but he doesn't just stay holed up in his room. Sometimes Steve or someone else is there to keep an eye on him, but not always. Perhaps they are trusting him more to be on his own, which is nice. Not that he's ever hurt any of them, or himself. They took their time introducing (or reintroducing) the other residents of the Tower so he had time to get used to them. He thinks he's met everyone by this point. They all seem nice enough.

The living room is large, probably larger than the apartment he and Steve used to live in before the war. It contains two couches and four easy chairs, which seems like more seating than they could ever need. Especially considering there is a different floor for communal activities. Or so he's heard – he hasn't seen it. There is a television that takes up most of the wall. They didn't have television before – before all of this, but he's familiar enough with screens that display information.

Watching television is a new kind of hobby, and he gives it a try. It's hard to know how much attention he is supposed to dedicate to it, as much of his noting of the details does not pay off in any significant fashion. Also, there is too vast an array of programs for him to be able to follow them with regularity. Some are fictional, while some are reality or documentary, and he isn't sure what he prefers.

Movies are also available, which at first delights him. He remembers going to the pictures with Steve, or his sister, or a lady friend, before the war. These are easier to follow than the television programs, since they are clearly designated as part of a series or, more often, standalone films. Some he doesn't like at all, and he wonders if they are popular for some reason he cannot understand. Others he likes, and he's particularly pleased to find a channel that shows old movies he vaguely recalls. It's nice to see them again.

After exploring that piece of technology over a few days, he tries the sound system. At first, he discovers that it can make the movie-watching experience much more exciting, and is distracted by that for a while. Then he finds some of Steve's vinyls and is pleased to hear music that he hasn't for quite a few years. The names are unfamiliar, tugging at something in the back of his mind, but nothing he can recall distinctly. He closes his eyes and lets the hints of memories connected to the music wash over him.

Sitting on the railing, watching the grown-ups dance, kicking his legs impatiently.

Dragging Steve inside to meet his date.

Proud in his uniform, starched and pressed, his arm around the waist of a girl.

Though he adjusts quickly to some parts of his new life, he enjoys returning to Steve's stereo system to remember his old one sometimes. After the battles, body sore and aching, it's pleasant to be brought back to another time, before he had the weight of two different kinds of wars on his conscious.

One day, though, it gets him in trouble. He hasn't even finished changing out of his gear, but he starts up the music anyway, needing it after a mission like today's. Closing his eyes, he retraces the long-forgotten steps, dancing with an imaginary partner. Until the music suddenly changes and then turns off, and he whirls around.

"Oh, fuck," he growls under his breath upon realizing he has an audience. A large audience.

Steve looks considerably embarrassed, while the rest are trying very hard to hide their amusement, though about half are polite enough to also seem embarrassed.

Bucky sets his jaw and musters his most intimidating glare. "If any of you breathe a word of this, I will end you," he swears solemnly.

Eyes go wide and he must be effective as he surveys them all slowly. Then he turns and stalks toward his room.

"Whatever you say, Dancing Queen," Tony says, just loud enough for him to hear. And then he has no choice but to chase after the billionaire genius, much to everyone else's delight.

"Bet you wish you hadn't taken your suit off now, huh," Clint suggests, confident on his perch in the corner.

Tony retaliates by knocking the archer off-balance as he runs by, Bucky hot on his heels. "It was just a joke!"

"You know how Russians are with jokes," Natasha says, shaking her head sadly, and putting out a foot to trip Tony. He recovers, before Bucky can catch up, but the latter grins at her nonetheless.

"I did not realize Midgardians were in the habit of behaving like children," Thor interjects, stepping hastily out of the way, but unable to hide his laughter.

"Hey!" Tony begins, but has to jump over the couch before he can finish his thought. "JARVIS! A little help!"

"With what, sir?" the AI asks innocently, and Tony swears at it.

"Cap, a little help?!"

Steve sighs loudly, and grabs Bucky's shoulder, swinging him around once to use up his momentum. "Now, Bucky, we've talked about planning ahead in the field," he begins in a lecturing tone, which results in peals of laughter from everyone except Bucky and Tony. Bucky smiles slowly. "What are you going to do with him when you catch him?"

Bucky snorts. "Like you ever planned that."

"What, did you take all my stupid with you after all?"

"Looks that way."

A smile starts to break through Steve's stern expression, but he manages to hide it. "Well, I think you're going to want to give it back," he says, then nods pointedly.

Tony has taken advantage of Steve's intervention to escape, and Bucky groans loudly, muttering curses under his breath.

"If any of you mention this, I will kill all of you in your sleep," Bucky says darkly when they laugh. It's not effective this time; they just laugh harder. He throws his hands up in the air in exasperation, and goes to his room, grumbling about respecting people's privacy the whole way.

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