Bucky doesn't run much, not even as the Winter Soldier. Why?


"I have a question," Tony asked blithely, swirling his coffee cup around. He was addressing the two geriatrics sitting at his counter.

"Shoot. Preferably me."

Steve elbowed Bucky. Tony watched Steve's muscles flex like a normal person's and then watched Bucky barely budge, where Tony was pretty sure that he would have been bowled over by that elbow.

"Fine. Don't shoot me. Shoot him."

Steve elbowed him again.

Bucky sighed, long-suffering. "Fine. Don't shoot anyone. Actually, shoot the ugly vase in the corner. It's grating my nerves. I swear to God, punk, if you—"

Steve elbowed him again, and the two super-soldiers—responsible, stern beings that they were supposed to be—dropped their respective drinks on the counter in favor of wrestling around on the floor like a couple of five-year-olds play fighting.

Tony watched, entertained immensely. Natasha walked in, saw the two super-soldiers rolling around on the floor, and perched in Bucky's former seat and stole his coffee.

"Hmm. Breakfast and a show," she remarked to Tony.

"And what a show it is," Tony agreed, leering absently.

She snorted.

Bucky got Steve in a headlock. "What was your question?"

"Why don't you ever run?" Tony asked. "You do sometimes, to get momentum for a jump, but other than that, nada."

Steve squirmed, getting leverage with his legs and backflipping so that Bucky was forced to let Steve go or get his face sat on. The wrestling commenced once more.

Tony and Natasha were both very amused.

"It's another weapon," Natasha answered Tony, in lieu of Bucky. "Walking into a fight tells people that you aren't going to need to use excessive momentum, because you're just that good. And with his build? It's kind of like watching a tank coming for you. Lizard brains set off all the alarms and make normal people a gibbering pile of bones."

Bucky ended up with Steve in another headlock, kneeling on each of Steve's calves.

"What have you been eating?" Steve asked breathlessly.

"Been drinkin' my milk, which you obviously haven't. You want to grow up big and strong, yeah?"

Tony cracked up laughing.

"Shut up, jerk," Steve panted, then leaned back further into Bucky's hold, grabbed Bucky's armpits from behind Bucky's broad shoulders, and heaved the Winter Soldier over his head like he was a heavier-than-usual sack of flour. Natasha somehow went from sitting on Bucky's stool to standing on the counter, out of the way of the flying bodies. She was still holding Bucky's coffee, and somehow hadn't spilled a drop.

"You scare me," Tony said to Natasha's calves.

"Thanks," she said, hopping off of the counter onto the safer side—where two soldiers weren't wrestling.


Pointless piece of fluff. Fun to write, but pointless.

(I meant to have this up last Sunday, but last Sunday went down the rabbit hole and got sucked into the Tardis for some wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey fun. Oops.)

Toodles!

-Ruby