For littleguyfrombrooklyn

[endsinafight]

Call him a borough snob, but Bucky would always prefer Brooklyn over Manhattan, even if Manhattan was where both his therapist and physical therapist were. Thanks in great part to Steve, who'd gone along with him to both appointments for the last couple weeks, he was starting to feel more comfortable being out and about, even if it still put him on edge. Today, though, he was out on his own because Steve had been called to duty the day before for some kind of mission that he hadn't even been given details on. Just that SHIELD needed him. And Steve being Steve, stepped up to the plate.

That whole thing put him on edge, too. He'd tried texting him a couple times, but Steve hadn't responded yet, so he just hoped his friend was safe and not in any trouble he couldn't handle. He reminded himself that Steve was essentially an actual superhero, and he wouldn't let his thoughts drift too far into worry. Hopefully.

He was in the middle of flagging down a cab after his physical therapy appointment, too tired to walk all the way to the subway when things went to hell.

The sky opened up with a bright light and there were fucking spaceships darting around, shooting at people. For a moment he thought maybe he'd fallen asleep and was having some kind of fucked up dream, but no. Within moments the street was filled with panicked people screaming and running, and there were fires and smoke and utter pandemonium.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, standing frozen in place for a few seconds until he spotted one of the things heading for a woman and two children just a few feet away. He moved fast -- faster than he realized he even could, scooping the crying kids up in his arm and yanking the woman out of the way just as the ship fired at the spot they'd been standing. He pulled them under the cover of an overhang -- not that it would do much good for long.

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[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

"You ain’t, Buck," Steve said. He leaned in and slipped his one arm underneath Bucky’s torso and the other arm underneath his legs. He made sure to do it so that Bucky’s arm would be facing Steve and he could hook it over Steve’s shoulder.

"This isn’t any trouble," he said. Steve stood up, effortless. Bucky wasn’t that heavy— he could bench-press nearly two thousand pounds, Bucky’s two-hundred odd wasn’t any problem, not even after a long day, especially when he could use the strength of his whole body.

The only thing difficult about it was how hyper aware he was of Bucky this close to him—he could feel his heart beating, he was so warm in Steve’s arms.

[endsinafight]

He chewed his lower lip even as he looped his arm around Steve's neck, exhaling slowly and letting his head move to rest on Steve's shoulder. He closed his eyes, mostly because he didn't want to see the others' reactions to what was happening, especially Stark's. Steve seemed to have no trouble picking him up and carrying him out of the bathroom and then out of the restaurant. He kept his eyes shut even as he felt the warm breeze on his skin, signaling they were outside, because he didn't want to see any of the destruction at the moment, afraid that it might trigger another episode.

Instead, he focused on the solidity of Steve's body against his own, strong and tall and confident and how nice it felt to be taken care of like this, by someone who actually knew him. It was his last thought before he drifted off to sleep, unconsciousness tugging at him too strongly to resist.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

None of the people in the restaurant looked anything but concerned about Bucky—there was no judgment in any of their eyes. Steve was hyperaware of the way Bucky’s head felt on his shoulder, the slowing evenness of his breath. He was calming down, that was good—Steve moved outside and toward the tower on auto-pilot, only paying enough attention to the world around him to make sure he didn’t fall or drop Bucky.

The tower was only a couple blocks away. When he got there, the doors opened smoothly—though they had been locked. The lobby was softly lit and strangely empty, for a big Manhattan building. The elevators opened and dinged very quietly to attract Steve to them. He walked over, feeling oddly like he was in a dream, and they whisked him up to the proper floor.

"Captain Rogers," a British voice said quietly. "I’m JARVIS, the intelligence that runs the tower. Mr. Stark has a guest suite he’s assigned you and Sergeant Barnes. Everything you need will be there and food will be sent up shortly."

"Uh," Steve said, rapidly putting together what Tony had said about an AI. "Thanks."

He barely made a noise when he spoke, not wanting to wake Bucky. When they got to the floor, it opened into a living room and the light in the hallway flashed. Steve followed it, knocking open a door to a bedroom with his hip. Gently laying Bucky down, he took a moment to look at him—look his fill, without Bucky looking back. Check to make sure he was okay. And he was, whole and warm. It had just been a hard go of it, lately.

He leaned down and very gently started untying Bucky’s boots.

[endsinafight]

It said a lot about both Steve, and Bucky's trust level in the man, that he yielded to sleep so easily in Steve's arms. He didn't even stir when Steve laid him down on the bed and removed his boots, or when he covered him with a blanket. He slept deeply for almost two and a half hours and when he woke up, it was with a start. He shoved himself into a sitting position with his right arm, looking around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

It took him a few moments to remember everything that had happened. The battle with aliens, the panic attack.

Steve Rogers carrying him to Stark Tower.

He rubbed his hand over his face and looked around, sinking back against the very comfortable mattress for a moment. Then he slowly threw his legs over the edge of the bed, making his way toward the door.

"Steve?" His voice was hesitant. He didn't know if the other man was nearby or if he'd gone out to help people outside.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve had watched Bucky sleep for too long. He’d stood there, right beside the bet, and let himself look—trace the softness of his relaxed face, the way his hair pooled on the pillow. He did so unselfconsciously at first, but then lingered long enough that he was embarrassed and a little worried, suddenly, that he was taking advantage. He still didn’t move away. There was something magical about this, about watching him peaceful in sleep. It was the strangest thing about the new century, making a friend like this. He marveled at it.

Then there was a noise in the main body of the apartment and he went tense all over. He reached back and gently unhooked his shield from his back. He made his way silently out of the room and into the main body of the apartment—only to relax and feel a little foolish. It was a red haired woman with a bag of something that smelled like dinner.

"Hello," he said, quietly—hoping it wouldn’t wake Bucky. She jumped and whirled around, before clutching her heart and laughing.

"Didn’t see you there," she said, cheerfully and too loud. "I’m Pepper Potts, Tony wanted to make sure that not just anybody had access to where you were staying."

"Please be quiet," he said, quickly and then winced. "I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be be rude. My friend is sleeping."

"Of course," she said, smooth. Her voice dropped much, much quieter—and in retrospect, she hadn’t been shouting, just speaking normally. She squinted at him and then smiled, more soft. "You look exhausted, too. I’ll just leave the food here. Toiletries are in the bathroom. I brought a couple of changes of clothes, nothing special but we have your measurements from the 40s. The elder Mr. Stark kept comprehensive records."

Steve felt a little horrified and she chuckled, covering her mouth. She seemed a little hysterical—stretched too thin and worn out.

"I’ll leave you too it," she said, and vanished as quickly as arriving.

Steve fell into the food. He saved a normal amount for Bucky, but otherwise ate the rest—he’d eaten just a couple hours before, but combat like today left him a black hole.

He was cleaning up when he heard Bucky’s hesitant voice and his heart skipped a beat.

"In here," he said. "But I can come to you if you don’t want to get up?"

He was already moving toward the room where he’d left Bucky, opening the door in and then reflexively smiling. Bucky had bedhead.

[endsinafight]

Bucky tensed momentarily at the sound of approaching footsteps, but relaxed once more the instant he saw it was indeed, just Steve. He let out a breath, eying him curiously at the smile he wore, picking up on the faintest hint of amusement there. Bedhead didn't even cross his mind, but he sniffed the air, blinking a few times.

"Do I smell food? I'm starving," he admitted. It was probably weird since it felt like he'd just eaten. Then again, he had no idea how long he'd slept. He glanced around, looking for a clock but not seeing one.

"What time is it?"

"Hello, Sergeant Barnes. It's 7:06 P.M.," a disembodied voice announced, making him jump. He gave Steve a what the fuck look.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve felt himself smiling at Bucky—his sleepy blinking and sniffing of the air was charming. He felt a strange, liquid warmth in his chest—he hadn’t spent a lot of time with Bucky when he was just waking up. He was caught up in that unfamiliar fondness enough that it took him a second to register Bucky’s actual question.

“Oh yes! There’s plenty of food,” he said.

He tilted his head at Bucky’s facial expression—it didn’t quite register to him that Bucky shouldn’t be hungry yet. “What?” He said, at the look.

[endsinafight]

Something about the way that Steve was smiling at him made him feel warm, and he smiled back sleepily, not entirely awake. Definitely not enough so to recognize that this was a little bit different of a smile than he was used to from Steve. His smile brightened at the acknowledgment that there was food, and as if on cue, his stomach growled.

"The voice," he said, glancing up at the ceiling warily.

"I didn't mean to startle you, Sergeant Barnes. My name is Jarvis, and I'm Mr. Stark's artificial intelligence program."

His eyebrows rose at that. "Guess I should have seen that coming."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve followed Bucky’s gaze to the ceiling and grinned.

“Yeah, he seems like a nice fella. He was quietly telling me about the clean-up work while you were asleep. He assures me that we aren’t needed at the moment, as most of the work right now is heavy machinery,” he said.

“That’s right, sir. And as strong as you are, you still wouldn’t fare very well if run over by a fork-lift,” JARVIS said.

“Let’s get you some food?” Steve said, turning his gaze back to Bucky and smile warming back up to fondness. He looked so soft, half-asleep like this. They both were still filthy from the fights, but there was something charming about Bucky’s feet in their socks.

[endsinafight]

"Good to know," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck, and yawning involuntarily as he took a couple steps closer to Steve and the door. "I'm both fascinated and kinda creeped out. Uh. No offense," he said, grimacing as he glanced up again.

"No offense taken, Sir," JARVIS responded, sounding pleasant. Could AI's be pleasant? Aliens and now AI's. Weird day. Very weird day.

He shifted his focus to Steve. "Yeah, please," he agreed with a wan smile, rubbing his hand over his bleary eyes. "What'd you have?"

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve had absorbed the human level of intelligence and communication of JARVIS in stride. It didn’t seem all that more advanced to him than his phone, so it didn’t occur to him to think that it was unusual.

“She brought a bunch of things, but I ate all the Chinese. You got me hooked on fried rice,” he said.

He opened the door for Bucky, waiting to follow him out into the kitchen.

[endsinafight]

The smile that spread across his lips was still sleepy, but genuine and kind of proud. "Good to know," he said, heading out of the room and glancing around at the sparsely decorated apartment that was easily three times the size of his own.

"This place is huge," he remarked, raising his eyebrows. He wasn't really surprised, considering he'd been to Stark tower once before, to meet with Tony in his workshop. He raked his hand through his hair as he made his way into the kitchen. "So uh -- sorry you had to carry me here." It was more than a little embarrassing, but Steve treated it like it was no big deal, not even the slightest inconvenience.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

"The building is enormous, too," Steve said. "It’s—actually hard to fathom, how rich Stark is."

The thought gave him a twinge of disquiet. This type of opulent, overwhelming wealth struck him as immoral, just on the face of it, no matter what somebody tried to do with it. He remembered going to lectures and getting pamphlets about landlords, owning capital, and the problems thereof. He put it aside, for now, to consider when they weren’t in the middle of recovering from a crisis.

When Bucky apologized for being carried, Steve’s eyebrows went up. He reached out to grip Bucky’s shoulder, gentle and reassuring.

"There’s really nothing to apologize for," Steve said. "You’ve helped me so much, since we became friends. I’m glad I could help. And honestly, Buck—for me, it’s not much more than carrying the bag of groceries I dropped everywhere the first time we met."

[endsinafight]

"Yeah. Pretty sure I'll never see a quarter of the kind of money the guy probably has just laying around in his own apartment," he responded. He wasn't bitter about it, really. Money wasn't that big of a thing to him. His family had always been lower middle class -- they'd never had a lot to spend frivolously, but he'd never gone hungry when he'd been growing up, either.

He held his breath when Steve's hand gripped onto his shoulder.

It was pretty incredible to think about, really -- that Steve had been able to carry him so effortlessly. Like he weighed nothing more than a sack of groceries, like he'd said.

"Well, thanks for not dropping me." The corners of his mouth curled up in a tiny smile.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“I wouldn’t,” Steve said, not a touch of joking in his tone. “I’d never drop you.”

There was a pause after these words and suddenly Steve was distinctly embarrassed, feeling like he’d revealed too much—shown Bucky a piece of something he didn’t understand yet.

He pushed a smile on his face. “And even if I did, you’re a lot tougher than a gallon of milk. What would you like to eat? She brought up a bunch of pasta and Indian food, with the Chinese.”

[endsinafight]

He'd gone for teasing and thought he'd pulled it off, but the serious, sincere way that Steve responded threw him for a loop, his stomach giving a nervous little flip. He found himself holding his breath, gazing at Steve, expression softening. He believed him. Whole-heartedly.

The abrupt change in Steve's demeanor startled him, too, but he laughed quietly at the added commentary.

"I never turn down pasta," he admitted.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“Well, let me get you some pasta,” Steve said. His cheeks were pink, struck by Bucky’s softening faze. He pulled out the chair for Bucky and started heating up a giant plate of pasta.

“How are you feeling?” he said. “Lotta combat today, for the most of us.”

[endsinafight]

He watched as Steve moved around the kitchen as he slipped into the chair Steve had pulled out for him. Idly, he tried to remember if anyone had ever done that for him before. Steve was from an era where chivalry was an actual thing.

Bucky was silent for a moment, gaze following the blond as he contemplated how to answer that. "Better than before," he said finally, pressing his lips together. "What about you?"

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

“I’m glad you feel better,” Steve said, shooting Bucky a small smile. “Sleep is important. I need a shower, but I’ll be fine.”

He hesitated a long moment, as he fussed with the now heated-plate of pasta. Staring at it, he said, “It’s strange to see New York of all places destroyed."

[endsinafight]

"Yeah." He held his breath for a minute. "It always drains me. When that happens." To say the least. Bucky leaned against the counter, exhaling at Steve's words. "Not the first time. I mean this is worse, sort of. In some ways. The destruction's more widespread." He glanced over at Steve.

"Anyone fill you in about 9/11?" His voice was more hushed now.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

He pushed the pasta over to Bucky and stood right next to him, their bodies almost touching.

“From a geopolitical perspective, yeah. But not really. Were you around?”

[endsinafight]

He picked up the fork Steve had set out for him and he wrapped some of the noodles around the tines. "Yeah. Was a senior in high school." He took a small bite, chewing, all too aware of the heat from Steve's body so close to his own. He wanted to lean into it, wanted to lay his head against the other man's shoulder.

"I was in English class. Could see the smoke from the first tower before any of us even knew what happened." He let out a breath. "Had to wait six months, but I enlisted the day I turned eighteen."

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve watched the movement of Bucky’s fork, not wanting to look away but feeling a few too many things to want to look him right in the eye.

“You were just a kid,” he said. “That was enormously brave. I was 24, when Pearl Harbor went happened. I tried to do the same thing.”

There was a long pause while he thought about this, feeling something vaguely dishonest about this characterization of events and not wanting to have any of that with Bucky, not even a little bit.

"For me, I was running away as much as trying to fight for my country, if I’m going to be honest."

[endsinafight]

Bucky drew in a breath, then started to shake his head, to correct Steve, when the other revealed that tidbit of information. He shifted slightly, looking up at him intently, eyes filled with curiosity.

"What were you running away from?" There was no judgement in his tone, just sincere interest. He remembered hearing all the stories about Captain America when he'd been a kid, of course, but he'd never given too much attention to them, either. History tended to only tell bits and pieces of the story so he'd never put a lot of stock into it.

[littleguyfrombrooklyn]

Steve noticed Bucky start to speak and then stop—he bit his lip and said, “I didn’t mean to make it about me. I’ll tell you, but I’m sorry about that—I want to hear about your life, too. What I got to say isn’t that interesting.”

He shrugged a little, shoulders tight. “Truth is, I was running away from nothing. I mean—I had nothing and nobody. No prospects, no respects, nobody caring about me. I was hoping that I could mean something in the world, if I could fight for my country and do what’s right.”