His heartbeat was the only thing he could hear, the steady rush of blood in his ears drowning out whatever else there was. The in between state he found himself in was fuzzy, like the moments between waking and sleeping, a feeling he had long since forgotten. The disorientation worried him, the unfamiliarity of the feeling making him nervous. It took a moment to remember how to open his eyes, and he only found himself staring at a white tiled ceiling with stark fluorescent lights beaming back at him. Blinking slowly, he tried to move but felt pressure at his arms and legs and could only manage to flop his head tiredly to the side, drips and monitors coming into focus, a steady beeping slowly become decipherable over his heartbeat. A click and a creak caused him to reorient, turning his head to face the other way, a just-shut door framing a man in a white coat.
"Ah, I see you are awake now Mr. Rogers. It is a pleasure to have you with us sir. I'm sure we'll be good friends for the duration of your stay."
"Hey, you don't like it here and we'll just find a little apartment somewhere. We've talked about this, remember? You feel uncomfortable you talk to me and we'll figure something else out, right?" Steve's smile was almost too genuine to be real, but with what memories he had, James knew it was nothing but sincere. Nodding and swallowing, too nervous to remind Steve that he'd said this a hundred times a day for the past week, James looked up, the metal and glass of the towering building in front of him stretching impossibly high towards the sun. Steve was still watching him, waiting for him to make the first move, he knew, so James made sure his face was neutral and stepped forward towards the automatic doors that led into the gleaming minimalistic lobby of Stark Tower.
Steve nearly ran into Bucky as he stopped suddenly just inside the doors, his dark hair still hanging in his face as he slowly swept his eyes back and forth across the room, taking in the reception area and workers milling around, or else the people pooling in front of the elevators, waiting to go up to their offices, dress ranging from starched suits of corporate workers, to lab coats pulled over the t-shirts worn by yawning scientists just coming back from coffee runs after all-nighters in the labs. It was an odd mix to look at, at first, but it was how Stark liked to run things, or Ms. Potts, Steve supposed, and as SI was a multi-billion dollar company then who was he to criticize?
Nervously watching Bucky, Steve waited to see if he would take it in stride and continue or turn and walk out. It was hard to tell with Bucky. No, with James. He had to call him James now. James didn't like being called Bucky, felt it was intruding on the person Bucky used to be. Didn't feel right taking the name of a man he hardly remembered being. Steve was alright with calling him James, it was one of the first things he had opened up about, admitting that he was having difficulty dealing with identifying memories and identity was an ongoing issue. But it was progress, talking about it at all. And Steve would take what he could get.
James seemed to shrug off his momentary pause, glancing back at Steve questioningly, and Steve nodded towards the reception desk, taking the lead and nodding to the secretary stationed there and slipping through the concealed door beside the desk into Tony's private elevator, tugging James gently behind him, not wanting to release his wrist lest he slip back out into the New York crowds. James was quiet on the ride up, but seemed to vibrate a little, with anxiety or excitement Steve couldn't tell, so he offered a grin, receiving a small twitch of a smile in return, the most he could hope to get in return. It was going well so far.
The elevator doors opened and Steve took one step forward before making a choking noise and trying to turn around. Before Steve could block him James slid around him, eyes widening when he saw what Steve had jumped at. He couldn't rightly tell how big the room they had entered was, as everything was draped in red, white, and blue streamers. It was a little dizzying.
"Surprise! It's a welcome home party! Well, a welcome-to-the-home-you've-never-known party."
James heard Steve sigh heavily in exasperation when a man approached from amid the streamers, decked out in an American flag suit, raising a glass of some sort of bluish party drink in greeting. James tilted his head at the guy, average height and weight but with the presence of a much larger man, a strangely tailored beard adorning his chin. Raising an eyebrow at Steve, James gave him a look.
"This is Tony Stark. He's our... host, I guess," Steve introduced, looking cowed by the decorations. Chuckles came from a corner of the room, where a few other people stood, one of them saying "I told you he'd hate you for this" but the man, Tony, pretended not to hear them.
"I'm pretty sure, no, I'm positive that we talked about not overdoing this," Steve spoke through clenched teeth, visibly stiff. Tony cocked his head to the side and waited a pause, then shaking his head.
"No luck buttercup, can't recall any such conversation."
"Oh really? Because I am pretty sure JARVIS must have it recorded. JARVIS?" Steve looked up at the ceiling.
"My apologies Captain Rogers, but I would be in direct violation of my coding if I were to provide evidence contradicting Master Stark." Steve rolled his eyes at the automated British accent, then his gaze caught on how Bucky(James) had stiffened and clenched his jaw at the sound of JARVIS's disembodied voice. Raising a hand to grab his shoulder, Steve hesitated before softly resting his hand against James's arm.
"Hey, hey it's fine, that's just JARVIS, he's like a computer butler, it's normal here, I promise it's fine-"
"Yeah. Okay." Bucky spoke stiffly, but didn't exactly react otherwise. The others in the room drew closer, watching the newcomer closely, but James gave nothing away. Steve was shifting from one foot to the other, obviously trying to gauge his friend's mood. Tony, for once, was quiet, realizing that the joke wasn't being taken well.
They were saved from the awkward silence by the ding of the elevator behind them, admitting a familiar face.
"Ah. I see you beat me here Captain."
"Agent," Steve smiled thankfully as Coulson stepped into the room, "Good to see you again. Can I introduce you? This is Bu- uh, James."
Coulson extended a hand, which James stared at, but didn't take.
"I thought you said this Coulson guy was dead." Bucky stated flatly, still staring at the offered hand. Steve spluttered while Coulson rescinded the hand.
"I was. For a few seconds, anyways. It was classified. I'm officially alive again. And now that SHEILD isn't employing me, I'm taking Stark's money and continuing work with a specialized team. I monitor superhuman threats and assess the urgency of such threats. That's where the Avengers come in. If you end up consulting with them, we'll be working together in the future."
James continued to stare impassively, but Coulson just kept the mild expression he was famous for and didn't seem intimidated. Steve was getting nervous at James's silence, and decided to get out before something was broken.
"Well, as much fun as this party was Tony, I think I'll just show James our floor. If you don't mind," He squeezed around Coulson into the elevator, looking back to see if Bucky was following. After a brief hesitation and one more glance around the room, his eyes pausing on the occupants, Bucky stepped into the lift, the doors closing smoothly behind him.
Silence sat heavy with the remaining crowd, before Bruce sighed and took off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt.
"I told you the streamers were too much."
"Hey blame Barton for the streamers, I wouldn't have been able to get them that high!" Tony protested, pointing accusingly. Clint narrowed his eyes and was about to reply when Coulson jumped in.
"Did any of you stop to consider that although he was one of the Howling Commandos nearly 90 years ago, he's been forced to work as a terrorist and thought himself to be a Russian assassin until very recently? Throwing the patriotism in his face isn't going to endear you to him anymore than it makes Steve roll his eyes at you. It isn't exactly subtle."
"To be fair sir, origin aside, he was a Russian assassin."
"Yes, thank you Natasha. I think that a little good ol' America themed welcome party was a perfectly good idea, I can't be blamed for Bucky's bad mood." Tony was smug, looking towards the others for confirmation. Instead Natasha glared at him and Thor avoided eye contact, Clint, surprisingly, being the first to speak up.
"I feel like as nice as your 'party' idea was, Steve was right in saying that we should keep it low key and not make a big to-do about Bucky coming here. Having your head messed with puts everything out of whack, and he's had his head messed with a lot." Natasha put her hand on his arm briefly, before leaving for her own quarters, the rest following her out until only Coulson and Thor remained, Coulson giving Tony the evil eye before dumping some papers for him to sign on the table and making his own exit. Tony raised an eyebrow at Thor.
Grinning sheepishly, the thunder god rumbled, "If the others have no wish to further celebrate, I should endeavor to assist you in ridding yourself of all the delightfully blue refreshments you had prepared."
"At least two of us know how to party," Tony said, as he led the way over to the bar.