HUD: Three chapters for this one.
Bucky felt like, sometimes, the others could be a little hard on Steve. In their defense, though, Steve made it pretty easy to be a target. He always had, back when they were brats, and it seemed that now that he had the big ol' body to back it up, Steve made more of an effort. Bucky would always have his back, whether it was some idiot that was picking on a lady on the subway or a rogue HYDRA agent or even the other Avengers.
Didn't mean he wouldn't join in on the fun from time to time, though.
"Seriously." It was Tony who started it (which it usually was anyway) first. "I walked in to the showers looking for Birdie and found our Golden Boy here in nothin' but a towel and he squeaked at me!"
Bucky bit his bottom lip to stop from grinning when Steve blushed from the collar of his shirt to the roots of his cornsilk hair. It really was such a good look on him that Bucky couldn't help but be distracted for a moment.
"I didn't - " Steve's feeble attempt at defending himself was over shadowed by Clint's laugh and Natasha's snort of amusement.
"He squeaked?!" Barton demanded, practically choking on his spit in his damned excitement.
Tony nodded with far too much exuberance and glee. "Oh yeah, man. Like a dainty little mousey."
Steve's expression turned from embarrassed to thunderous in a second flat. Bucky knew that look - knew that Steve was about to square his jaw and pull out his Captain America voice, which actually did work now that he wasn't a scrawny little stick.
"Tony," Steve ventured, his tone dark and his voice deep as he did exactly what Bucky had predicted. Bucky stole a glance at Natasha across from him; she just caught his eye and gave a very minute shrug. She wanted to see what happened too, he supposed.
Bucky knew that if things got too heated, he'd have Steve's back, Tony fucking Stark or not. Even if Stark had done some serious upgrades on his toy soldier of an arm (Stark's words) and even built a brand new one right out of vibranium, Steve had Bucky's loyalties.
Even if he needed to learn to laugh at himself, a little. Sometimes.
This seemed to be one of those times where Bucky Barnes was Coming to the Rescue. Steve's blue (blue) eyes were verging more on the colour of the ocean after a violent storm rocked it and his pupils were blown wide. Bucky kind of wished he was sitting next to Steve instead of Tony, honestly. Not that he expected bloodshed, but Steve wasn't having what Tony was serving - at all.
"A mousey, Stark?" Steve asked, his tone not at all matching the murder in his eyes. It was almost like watching a disaster in slow motion. Tony, for all his ego and lack of self-preservation, just kept on grinning. "Really?"
Bucky noticed Clint's laugher die; he subtly scooted his chair a little closer to Natasha. Bucky hid his grin behind his coffee mug.
"Yup!" Tony continued, grinning like the maniac he usually portrayed. "It was adorable, Cap, seriously! Reminded me of the war, back before dear old daddy fixed your spangly outfit."
Bucky worked to swallow his next sip of coffee. This was starting to get a little too personal.
"When you worked with the USO girls and punched Hitler a few times," Tony added like Steve didn't know what he meant, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. Bucky really didn't want to be sharing a table with the man at that particular moment.
Steve accented his anger by rising swiftly from his seat at the head of the table, making Tony and Clint flinch. "Sure it's got nothing to do with anything else?"
Oh, no. Bucky opened his mouth but was cut off by Tony again: "If you're referring to before, could be." Tony's quip made Steve's fists clench. "I'm sure you were even more adorable - actually, we have first-hand knowledge right here!"
Bucky tried not to spill any of his coffee when Tony suddenly clasped his shoulder. "Buckaroo, was Little Steve more or less adorable than Big Steve?"
Bucky blinked, his mind drifting through his recovered memories, picking out the significant ones. Steve, nearly a head shorter than Bucky, but Bucky didn't mind because he could casually throw an arm around his shoulder without raising suspicion; his shoulders, literally the polar opposite of what they are now, thin and delicate; his chest nearly as frail from sick and the two of them not ever having enough money to eat more than once a day. Steve, who wouldn't ever back down from a fight, but wouldn't let Bucky help dress any wounds that involved him taking off his shirt. Bucky knew, of course, that he was embarrassed about how small he was, and only if they had to huddle under a thin sheet for warmth would Bucky really know exactly how embarrassed Steve actually was.
Bucky must've missed his opportunity, too lost in his head, that when Natasha cleared her throat pointedly all he could answer with was: "Uh."
Damn; and Bucky used to be so good at talkin', too.
Steve must have taken his silence and elegant answer as an affirmative to whatever string Tony was tugging at, because he gave Bucky his most wounded expression before it shuttered back to barely concealed anger and turned away from the table. Tony sighed loudly.
"Oh, come back," he groused, calling after Steve's retreating back. "I'm just yankin' your leg! You should understand that reference!" When Steve just stared pointedly at the elevator doors, Tony rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. "Fine; be a prude."
The flinch was so small that Bucky doubted anyone but him would have seen it. Maybe Natasha, if she'd been looking, but she wasn't, and Bucky had a clear view of his best friend as he stalked into the elevator and kept his eyes down as the doors closed.
Tony just shrugged and took up his cup. "Whatever; let him stew for a while, I guess."
Bucky felt himself sigh as he still stared at where Steve had been, looking more forlorn than he'd seen him when Bucky had trouble remembering things. He still did, from time to time, but Steve never looked quite as downtrodden anymore because of it.
Natasha moved just so to catch Bucky's eye and quirked an eyebrow at him. Bucky thinned his lips. "You went a little too far there, Stark."
Tony huffed beside him and set his mug down. "Please; he's got thicker skin than that."
"Does he?" Natasha prompted, tilting her head slightly. "He's only been here for a few years. He's only been big - "
" - for 'bout five years," Bucky finished, drawing both Clint and Tony's attention in surprise. "He never was okay before, really, bein' sick an' all so much." That seemed to drive the point home. Tony shuffled beside him slightly.
"Well, like he has a need to be now," Tony defended. "I mean, he's seen himself, right? He could bench press all of us together with a one-handed push-up and probably recite the National Anthem or something."
That earned a snort from Clint, drawing the slightly too quiet man into the conversation. "Yeah, but he was tiny his whole life. Might still take some getting used to."
Bucky nodded. Natasha blinked lazily, like a cat, but her eyes were sharp on him when she spoke: "Seems like he may need some insight, too."
Bucky swallowed down the rest of his cup in a quick gulp and nodded again. "Took the words right outta my mouth, Nat. I'm on it."
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Bucky went to the floor he and Steve shared after missions before heading back to Brooklyn. They'd both not wanted to impose on Tony more than needed, but a place to unwind for a bit before heading back out into the public seemed like just the right amount of imposition. That, and whenever Tony got into a snarky mood and Steve got a little too stubborn, things ended roughly. Sort of like the disaster Bucky was trying to perform damage control on.
The living area of the flat was quiet, all the lights but the clock under the TV off. Bucky shucked off his boots and left them by the door next to Steve's running sneakers. At least he was there, giving Bucky a little relief. It wasn't unheard of for Steve to take off for a run after a row with Stark.
Bucky checked their shared kitchen - empty - the hall bathroom - also empty - and his room - but Steve wasn't there. He looked over to see the door to the room Steve usually slept in closed. He swallowed and ambled up to it.
"Hey, Stevie," Bucky called, rapping the knuckles of his metal hand on the frame. "You in there?"
Bucky wasn't surprised to be answered by silence, so he gave his pal a few minutes and turned back to their kitchen for a sandwich. "Making food - want anything?"
Bucky made quite a bit of noise in the kitchen purposefully, attempting to draw Steve somewhat on his own. They'd all been starved when they made it to the communal floor, chugging coffee while they waited for whatever takeout JARVIS had ordered them to arrive. Unfortunately, ditching the team meant ditching all that precooked food, leaving two super soldiers to fend for themselves and three regular people to eat their share (two-thirds, for the record; Bucky was a little mournful.)
Bucky forced himself to not react when he heard Steve's door slide open over carpet, busying himself with the Scooby-Doo-sized sandwich he was making. A stool to the bar drug across the tile with barely any noise and Steve sat down just as quietly. Bucky hummed to himself.
Finally he turned and slid the first of the two sandwiches to Steve, whose head was more or less banging against the marble.
"Hey now," Bucky chuckled, working his hand under Steve's forehead to stop the assault. "What's that gonna accomplish?"
Steve sighed, the breath warm and ghosting over Bucky's hand. "I acted like a fool, letting somethin' so small get me all riled up."
Bucky shrugged and lifted lightly on Steve's face until the man moved on his own. His eyes were so wide and lost that Bucky wanted to kiss his stupid face.
Except, no.
"What's today?" He asked randomly. Steve furrowed his brow.
"Uh, Thursday, I think?"
"Just another Thursday with you, punk," Bucky answered with a grin. Steve pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose, his shoulders slumped forward in an unconscious attempt at making himself seem smaller. It never worked with Bucky, but spoke volumes to how Steve really felt.
"You're a jerk," he mumbled. Bucky snorted and turned back to finishing his meal.
"Would a jerk make you a delicious sandwich from the bottom of his heart?" Bucky huffed, grinning so hard he was glad Steve couldn't see him.
"Mmhm," Steve said around a mouthful of said sandwich. "You'd prolly jus' eat it yourself."
Bucky turned, his grin tamed, as he leaned against the counter and took a bite himself. "Caught me."
They ate quickly and quietly. As Bucky trashed their napkins and put away the cold cuts and lettuce and cheese, Steve cleared his throat. "Ah, Buck?"
"Yup?"
"Do you, ah, do you..." Steve trailed off, drawing Bucky's full attention. He was blushing again, his face so bright that Bucky was concerned if the rest of his body had any blood in it. "Do you - "
"Steve," Bucky said sternly. It stopped Steve's stammering (that reminded Bucky so much of their old selves) and made him meet his gaze.
"Do you agree with them, with Tony?" Steve asked quietly. His eyes were wide again and pulling on Bucky's heartstrings so much that Bucky wanted to punch Stark himself for even bringing it up and for Bucky never getting a proper chance to defend Steve.
"'Course not, pal," Bucky said with a small smile. "So what if ya weren't expecting Stark to walk up on ya naked; I'da prolly squeaked, too."
Steve murmured something close to Didn't squeak but Bucky didn't comment on it. Instead, he said louder: "No, do you think I'm a prude?"
Bucky blinked, stunned to silence for the second time that night. Steve wore the kicked puppy look too well, his brows drawing up tight over his bright eyes and his lower lip getting worked over by his teeth.
Again, Bucky missed his window, too preoccupied with watching Steve's straight white teeth nibble at his suddenly too pink and full lips to answer with anything more than: "Uh."
Steve sighed, his shoulders slumping even further, before he pushed himself away from the bar with a mighty effort. Bucky scrambled.
"Wait, Steve! I - "
"Night, Buck." Steve answered before his door shut softly.
Bucky swallowed his botched apology and groaned, knowing that dejected tone and those hurt eyes would haunt him all night.
A/N: Aww, poor Stevie. Let me know what you thought! :)