(I don't own anything.
Note: Happy birthday, Bucky Barnes.)
I am James "Bucky" Buchanan Barnes. I was born on March 10, 1917. I like chicken salad and Hershey's chocolate bars. I don't like brussels sprouts. My best friend is Steven Grant Rogers, or Captain America. I am an Avenger. JARVIS is a friend.
I think that's good enough for now. I smiled ever so slightly, looking over my previous notes. This particular list was longer than any of the other ones, which truly wasn't saying much. I closed it, putting the pen between the pages so I would know where to write next time, and put the little leather book in my pocket. I gave my short hair a quick run through, trying to make it look how I remembered it, before pulling my blue coat on and striding purposefully out of my room.
Steve and I had our rooms on the same floor. In fact, we were next door neighbours. However, I rarely slept in my bed; I honestly barely slept at all at night. Instead, I spent my nights camped out at the door of Steve's room, a knife and AK-47 in hand. He tried to convince me JARVIS would keep an eye out, but I simply told him that there could never be too much security.
"Hey, Bucky!" I looked up from putting my shoes on to Sam's voice. The second newest addition to the Avengers was walking toward me, dressed in running shorts, Nike shoes, and a loose t shirt. "Are you going running?" I nodded. "Mind if I come?"
I shrugged, glaring down at my shoelaces. "Yeah. Just give me a little." I tried again to tie them, but they just wouldn't stay in my metal hand long enough for me to complete the knot. I cursed and tried again, but all I got were two strands if shoe string refusing to stay in a simple bow. "Okay, this might take more than a minute."
Sam sat down by me, looking at my sneakers. "Would you like some help?"
I wasn't one to accept help very easily, but I also knew I would look stupid if I continued to fumble around like this over a pair of laces. "Please." I snorted, leaning back so he could get to them. He easily did one shoe and was finishing up the other when I asked, inquired, "Have you seen Steve? He wasn't in his room."
Sam immediately started acting weird. "No. I haven't seen him. Why would I have seen him? He's probably at work or something."
I raised an eyebrow, confused by his behavior. He was lying, but why? "Okay. . . . Let's go run, slowpoke."
"Whatever you say, old man."
After running laps around Sam ("On your right, whippersnapper!"), I was feeling somewhat better about life. I actually remembered something from before - Steve used to put newspaper in his shoes - and I wanted to tell him that. I could imagine how happy he would be when I told him that. It was the first one that I didn't have to research anything to remember. Sam and I strolled back into Avengers Tower. We separated, him going to the elevator while I used the stairs. It may have been less conventional, but it was less claustrophobia inducing. Besides, I could still get up it pretty fast.
This time, it took me three minutes to get to the lowest level of the lounge reserved for the Avengers. I walked inside to see no one but Sam reading a post-it note. "What's that?"
"Oh, nothing." Sam hastily shoved the note in his pocket. "Just a note from Steve to not beat you at running. Not like I have to worry about that."
I narrowed my eyes slightly. Sam was a bad liar. "Sure. . . . Where is everyone?"
"Beats me. They probably had a sudden mission."
"Hmmm." Steve would have told me if he was going on a mission, no matter how sudden. "Well, I'm going to go take a nap."
"Wait!" I jump when a pair of hands grab onto my jacket, preventing me from getting to the stairwell. "Don't you want to eat something first. I don't think we've introduced you to Shawarma."
That certainly piqued my interest. "Shawarma?" I repeated, trying out the strange word on my own tongue.
Sam nodded, smiling. "It's really good. There's a shop just a few blocks from here. I was thinking that today I could help you get some things off that list of yours."
I hesitated. Surely a nap could wait. "Sure. Just let me get my wallet -"
"No! I've got it."
Okay, something weird was definitely going on. He wasn't even letting me go to my floor. Well, it wasn't my own floor as I shared it with Steve. It didn't change the fact he wasn't letting me leave his sight. Better play along. "Fine. Let's go."
It was rather fun watching him try to keep up with me on the way down. I was surprised that he insisted on coming with me, even more so by his lame excuses. ("I should get more exercise," he had claimed. I pointed out we had just finished running, but he only shrugged.) When he did finally reach ground level, he was sweating more than he had been at any point during our morning run. He had a large, genuine smile plastered on his face, though.
The Shawarma spot really wasn't that far from the tower. It was only five hundred eighty-three steps away (I counted). I wasn't particularly fond of the food, but it wasn't the worst thing I'd ever eaten. I was glad when we left. "Now can I take a nap, or do you have anything else you'd rather show me first?" I asked somewhat sarcastically.
"Well, yes. There's this thing called bowling I think you'd like."
We didn't get back to Avengers Tower until late. I may have tried bowling with my left hand and I may have thrown the ball through the ceiling because of it. It wasn't the most amount of damage I'd caused that day, but it's better not to get into that.
On the way up, Sam casually suggested/hinted, "Why don't we go to your floor now? You must be tired and I'm sure Steve would like to hear what you remembered."
"Steve's home? I thought he was on a mission."
Sam stammered, flustered, "Yeah, he was, but Tony called during the park incident and they're all back now." I raised an eyebrow, but said nothing else.
Sam decided to use the elevator this time. I went with him, too tired from the fiasco of today to go up at least fifty flights of stairs to my floor. I almost didn't care about how small the space was, how there wasn't any way to escape if we had to. Besides, I told myself, there's always a way out, no matter how hard it is to find.
When we reached my floor, I paused. The lights were completely out. Anything could be hiding. "Hey, Jarvis, could you please turn the lights on?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, but I cannot do that, Sergeant Barnes. Wait just a minute." The AI replied.
"But -"
I didn't even have time to scrape together a coherent thought when a chorus of "Surprise!" exploded all around me. The lights turned on, blinding me. I hissed in surprise and slammed my flesh fist into the nearest person's face. Said face belonged to Clint.
Clint screamed, leaping back and holding his bleeding nose. "You could have just said 'thank you.'"
To say the least, I hadn't expected anything like this. I took a closer look and realised all the Avengers (plus Pepper and Colonel Rhodes) were there. Well, Tony wasn't, so not all of the Avengers. "Why are you all here?!" I shouted, confused.
Steve walked over, wearing a red, white, and blue cardboard cone thing on his head. "Happy birthday, Buck."
I blinked. "What? No, it's not for another . . . oh." That certainly explained a lot.
Before anyone else could say or do something, Tony came rushing out of the elevator. "Shoot," he muttered. "I missed it. Did he scream?"
It was only natural for my give him the answer through a fist to the face.
I am James "Bucky" Buchanan Barnes. I was born March 10, 1917. I like the colors blue, gold, and green. I hate brussels sprouts. My best friend is Steven Grant Rogers, or Captain America. He used to put newspaper in his shoes. My other friends are Tony Stark, Thor, Natasha Romanoff, JARVIS, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, and Sam Wilson. I love Hershey's chocolate bars and chocolate cake. I am an Avenger. Don't go bowling with metal hand. I will get better.