Bucky wasn't used to having a team. Sure, he knew that the Howling Commandos had his back, like he had their backs, but that had been so long ago and it was more of a distant memory; not many feelings were connected to that knowledge.
During his time with Hydra he hadn't been allowed to feel bad, or to need help, at all.
So now that he was with the Avengers he wasn't used to having support, very obvious one from Steve, Sam and Tony, but also more subtly from the rest of the team, and he had a hard time getting used to it.
That didn't mean he rejected them though. He wasn't yet there where he actively asked for help or support but somehow everyone seemed to know when he needed it anyway.
There were days when Bucky needed to go hard on himself in the gym and while Natasha and Sam offered more than once to spot him or to go a few rounds with him, those days were the ones where Bucky was afraid he would lose himself and hurt them.
So on all of these days it was a godsend that Steve was always there to take the role as his sparring partner. He never went easy on him, always pushing him so hard that he was left gasping for breath and shaking from the exertion.
Steve had seemed worried the first few times, but Bucky had cornered him one day to thank him for the continued sparring and from then on Steve had never made a doubtful comment again.
Sam always seemed to know when Bucky had flashbacks, or was drowning in his guilt, and his calming presence did wonders to settle Bucky. Sam was a constant presence on those days, but he wasn't intrusive about it; he was there, keeping Bucky company and inviting him to talk, without pressuring him.
Bucky talked to him more often than not, just off handed comments, memories out of the blue, but Sam always took it in stride. He never seemed surprised when Bucky spoke, he never judged him and he always had something calming to say.
He never made Bucky feel like he was being unreasonable or whiney, he validated every feeling Bucky expressed and soon enough Bucky forgot his hesitation to talk to Sam.
It only took him a few weeks before he actively started to seek Sam out, not always to talk, sometimes just to sit with him, but Sam never sent him away and it gave Bucky a lot of strength to work through everything.
Bucky hadn't expected Tony's help at all. The death of his parents hung over them like the sword of Damocles and Bucky was afraid of the day it would fall down.
But Tony had cornered him one day, telling him that he had known all along, it had been in the files Natasha had dumped, and he had time enough to come to terms with it. Tony also made it clear that they wouldn't be best friends just like that, but he sternly told Bucky that there was no reason to avoid him.
After that he dragged him down into his workshop, talking a mile per minute, and showing several new arm designs to Bucky.
He involved Bucky into the process, asking for his opinion and feedback, and he was incredibly mindful of anything that had the potential to hurt Bucky.
Bucky hadn't admitted that the arm hurt him, but obviously Tony's scans revealed the painful connections, and Tony was hell-bent on changing that.
He never made any changes without telling Bucky about them and asked every time before he touched Bucky.
After seventy years of having no autonomy over his body, it seemed like a wonder to Bucky. One he gladly took.
And even after Tony had made him a new arm, he constantly came back with upgrades and new ideas and designs, tackling errors Bucky hadn't even noticed yet, ensuring that he made the arm as pleasant as he could.
Natasha was the one who surprised him the most with her support. Bucky remembered the two times he had shot at her, and then that she had tried to strangle him twice, only for him to nearly kill her, and apart from Sam, Tony and Steve she was the only one who had a reason to hold a grudge against him.
But instead of doing that she came with hairbrushes, lotions and even nail polish to him.
Bucky hadn't cut his hair, he didn't prefer it any way, but he hated the feeling of it. It was rough and hard, like his skin and scars, and Bucky hated to look at himself in the mirror on most days.
On one of those days Natasha made her way onto his floor, little bag slung over her shoulder.
She dropped it on the couch and flopped down next to Bucky. Bucky was in no state to talk to her, which she seemed to realize, because she wordlessly took the bag and unloaded everything she brought.
There were several brushes and bottles and she spread them all over the table.
Bucky curiously looked at them and Natasha pointed at each one while she explained their use.
She handed Bucky one brush but he made no move to use it and so eventually she took it from him and gestured if it would be okay if she did it.
He tilted his head into her direction and she gently started to move the brush through his hair. It was a strange feeling, one he had no reference for, but Bucky found that he enjoyed it.
When they were done, Bucky's hair falling in smooth waves over his shoulders, she reached for one of the bottles.
When she uncapped it a pleasant smell filled the space between them and Bucky instinctively leaned towards it.
Natasha smiled at him when she noticed it and then proceeded to massage it into his hair. He gradually relaxed under her ministrations and was almost asleep by the time she was done.
Natasha looked at him critically then and after a minute she pushed everything else back into the bag. "For the next time," she told him and then left as silently as she had come to him.
Bruce was a big help regarding calming techniques.
Bruce readily shared his tea, never complaining, even when it was obviously a very rare blend and Bucky greatly enjoyed the smell and taste of all of them.
He had tried every single one Bruce owned and he had a few favourites, but he always drank what Bruce offered him.
Bruce had once explained to him that different teas could help with different situations and Bucky trusted him to know what was best for him.
Apart from the teas Bruce had a few incredible breathing techniques that had helped Bucky stave off more than one panic attack.
Clint had no calming influence on him whatsoever.
Bucky had days where he fell deeply into depressions, where he didn't even make it out of bed, and on those days Clint was there without fail.
He would just barge into Bucky's room, bow and rifle already on his back, and he literally dragged Bucky out of bed and onto the shooting range.
Bucky was an exceptional sniper, he wasn't modest when it came to that, but Clint was just as good, maybe even better.
Bucky had never seen someone use a bow like this and every friendly battle they had was a real challenge for Bucky. He needed all his concentration, every little skill he possessed, and it was similar to his sparring with Steve. Bucky loved it and it never failed to make him feel better.
Bucky had thought Thor just radiated goodness, bringing positivity wherever he went, but there was so much more to him.
Thor was old, so much older than any of them, and he had more knowledge and experience than all of them combined.
And while they only knew this Thor, Thor had made it clear that he used to be an asshole, that he used to be someone very differently from who he was now, and while Bucky had a hard time believing him, Thor's stories made it clear that he was telling the truth.
Bucky could spend hours just sitting with Thor, listening to him; it made Bucky believe that he could change as well, that he wasn't doomed to be an asset forever.
Thor had surprisingly deep insight into humans and their motivations, and whenever Bucky faltered, he was there to restore his hope in himself.
While Bucky cherished all of their singular attempts, he enjoyed it most when the whole team came together.
There were domestic mornings, where somehow everyone made their way into the kitchen at the same time, and while Bucky was aware that he wasn't really part of the team, no one gave him that feeling at all.
They included him effortlessly, moving with him, rather than around him, and Bucky had never felt so welcome than on those days.
He knew that he still had a long way to go before he could even claim to be anywhere near the Bucky from before the war, but when he sat with this team on the table, chatter everywhere, gently including him into everything, he believed that he would make it.