Will not include: Infinity War
Will include: Non-canon details/headcanons
Fandom - MCU / Captain America
Captain America © Marvel Entertainment / The Walt Disney Company
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Bucky woke up to the sound of his baby goats bleating as kids laughed. Fixing his sleep-rumpled hair, he lifted himself out of his cot and walked out of his small hut, feeling warm in the Wakandan sunrise. Stretching his back like a cat, the village kids ran over to greet him like they did every morning, chanting 'White Wolf!' as they circled around him. Bucky found himself smiling at the cheery village children, listening to them talk about lessons they've learned in school, asking if the mother goat has given birth yet (she has not). He also refuses to let one of the kids name his precious billies 'Big Chungus' because that meme is fucking stupid to Bucky. The kids were called by their mothers, so they bid their goodbyes and left him to his own devices.
Bucky began taking care of his billies, feeding them and checking their coats for any spurs that nestled into the hair, visiting the pregnant goat that was about to give birth. He gave her some gentle words as he stroked her head, watching to make sure the male goat guarding her wouldn't snap at him unlike last night. Giving the male goat some attention, he received a message from Shuri via Kimoyo beads, making his way towards his small home to check the message, he listened to the sound of a small flyer touchdown away from his goats (they scared them the last time and Bucky told them off). Seeing that it was time for his weekly visit with the small mastermind Shuri, he grabbed the black-wrapped unidentifiable object sitting safely and untouched on top of his dresser, carrying it out with him and boarding the flyer.
One short ride later, he finds himself in the lab of Shuri, listening to her rattle on about her new fascination with small housepets wearing baby clothes, showing Bucky thirty examples of this trend from her beads. She continued to talk about them during his Vibranium prosthetic arm diagnostic.
"Shuri, can I ask something?" Bucky muttered after his arm was installed into his shoulder, in the middle of a pressure sensitivity test.
"Yes! Is something wrong with the arm?" The small Wakandan asked.
"No, no! It's great, actually. Thank you again. I actually wanted to ask about something else…" Bucky told himself mentally to abort mission, but he needed to get this out or else it'll never be heard.
"Don't take this as I'm not grateful for everything you have done for me I… In fact I don't think I would've gotten far without your help. You were great to me despite all the ghost stories about me. I can't thank you enough for helping me find out who I was after…." he wasn't ready to dive down that hole yet, "I was wondering, actually, about, maybe, uhm, tell me if this is a bit of a stretch but, maybe I could go back to America? I know, it's so rude to even think it, but when you were sucking the Asset out of me, I kept thinking about how much I actually do miss Brooklyn and that shabby apartment Steve used to live in. It makes me wonder what it would be like, to, you know, have a normal life after the war…" Bucky felt foolish now, stumbling over his words like a newborn billy.
Shuri lit up like she had a technological breakthrough; "Bucky! Mister Goat Man! That's awesome! I think that's awesome to think that! I don't think you're being rude for wanting justice for being wronged all those decades ago. I think that's a great idea personally!" Shuri smiled, and Bucky found himself smiling as well from the infectious energy of the young inventor. "I think that's a perfect goal to strive for. It shows that you're improving, and your memory is returning. How much of New York do you remember?" Shuri asked in a calmer voice.
"The details are always blurry, but I remember Steve fucking Rogers and the stupid cinder block he hid his spare key under. It was so obvious and anyone could've broken into his house with that key, but he never moved it," Bucky smiled at the memory of the chipped rock on the apartment doorstep.
"Pre-Captain America Steve Rogers was kind of a dumbass," Shuri commented.
"Yeah, seems like it," Bucky sighed, slouching in his chair as he flexed the fingers on his left arm, watching the light glisten off their reflective surface. The door of Shuri's lab opened to reveal T'Challa, looking as angry as a wet cat, skulking into the lab and making sure the doors locked and were in a 'Do Not Disturb' lockdown. A meeting did not go well for the King it seems.
"Why do people think we are cannibals? Because of their falsely-written textbooks by predominantly white male scholars, who are blindsided by the idea of capitalism and patriotism that they forget that they are the ones who have taken our brothers and sisters to their stolen lands, trying to control them like animals?"
"It was that bad today?" Bucky winced.
"I wonder if I would get away with taking a sick day the next time they ask me to show up for a panel…"
"Say you're having a war; seems like the world stops for unnecessary wars all the time." Shuri commented.
"How are you today Bucky?" T'Challa asked.
"I'm good. Abuita is about to go in labour at any moment, so the kids have been helping a lot with helping me care for the other goats."
"I meant you personally, Bucky," T'Challa smiled.
"Oh, well, I did remember something last night. I just told Shuri about it— I keep remembering living in Brooklyn with Steve. I miss it…"
"We we're talking about Bucky moving back to Brooklyn— maybe being in the city would help jog a few memories?" Shuri offered, the King looking at Bucky and seeing the same hope reflecting in his eyes.
"Mr. Stark spoke to me briefly about a residence that houses ex soldiers looking to integrate back into society. It's through a program based in a hospital that one of the Avengers used to work in. I'll ask him about it when he flies down this week." Bucky has never smiled so widely.
Exhaustion riddled every bone, a migraine making itself known and thumping on every wall of his head. He bid farewell to his latest visitor, retreating to his office and hanging up a "DND" door handle sign, determined to get a few minutes to himself. It was obvious he needed a few minutes to recuperate.
Doctor (Name) (Last Name) was a psychologist at the local VA. He offered psychological care and support for a handful of new and old vets. He was also the independent owner and director of the 'Bobbi's Care' program; named after the late Bobbi (Last Name), (Name) rents out the apartments in the complex he owns to vets that are trying to accustom to life outside the war zone.
Sometimes his sessions were stressful; it's expected coming from his patients that normally were a tight package of PTSD thrown into a civilians world after becoming used to the life of a soldier. He loves his patients, don't think that, but sometimes you get a visitor that sucks all your motivation and energy out of you like a mosquito. It doesn't help his case that (Name) was just verbally attacked by a couple thinking they could rent his apartments at a higher price and take a home away from a deserving veteran, so he was dependent on strong triple-shot espressos from the cafe near the hospital. Finishing his cold espresso, he tossed the cup in his recycling bin, putting his face in his cupped hands, groaning loudly at his own shortcomings. He was interrupted by a tiny pat to his hands, followed by a rapid-fire set of pats. Moving his hands, he was greeted by the small wrinkled face of his now-screaming cat. Her collar jingled as she rubbed her face into (Name)'s, him laughing and petting his cat.
"It's OK Pepi; I won't do anything stupid," Pepi chirped and rolled onto her back to present her stomach, (Name) giving her a gentle rub, "it's OK darling, I'm OK." He assured his cat. Pepi gave a nod, she was so understanding. The Sphinx cat purred in his arms, rubbing her head on her owners chin, knocking into the ESA ID card clipped to (Name)'s sweater. It made a gross noise, but (Name) didn't mind.
The feline continued to purr, but stared at the door. The doctor thought it was weird, knowing her to do that with only a handful of people. Looking in his desk drawer, he made sure that his Do Not Disturb sign was up, curious on who was knocking on his door with the most gentle of touches.
"Come in…" he muttered weakly, watching the door open to reveal the blond mess known as Clint Barton, looking utterly offended. A hand was placed daintily on his heart, looking like he watched his mother be stabbed in front of him.
"Uhm, your best friend is visiting and you talk to me like that? In that tone of voice? WIth that dead look in your eyes? Nah- I want peppy as fuck, chuckle-fuck (Name)." Pepi demanded attention from Clint the entire time, meowing at him and jumping from (Name)'s lap, "OK; I'm gonna leave the room, and come back in, and we're gonna try that again, OK darling?" Clint had this 'showtime' voice, making (Name) smile as Clint left the room.
Another knock on the door- it was mimicked perfectly from last time. (Name) rolled his eyes and felt a wave of laughter approaching, "oh, do come in." He said in a stereotypical diva voice, watching Clint practically swing the door wide open, causing Pepi to stir and continue to demand the attention she so-dearly deserves. This time, Clint let her rub against his legs.
"Oh! Why, it seems like my best friend is here! In his office! Like he's paid to sit there! How peculiar! Oh, how I have missed you, my dear!"
"Clint please stop talking," the doctor could no longer hold in his laughter, spilling out like an erupting volcano. Clint smiled, picking up Pepi and kissing her on the forehead.
"Hey, you alright?" Clint asked seriously, sitting down on (Name)'s desk, watching how (Name)'s head immediately gravitated to rest on Clint's thigh. It was quite miraculous, watching Pepi relocate to sit next to her owner's head. "When was the last time you slept?" (Name)'s e/c eyes were accentuated by deep raccoon eye-esque bags.
"No; this one family won't stop hassling me. They want to buy Corporal Rodriguez's old apartment so they can live closer to the main part of the city. I fucking hate it! I tell them over and over again that my apartments are only for veterans- they keep writing me checks like I do this for the money!" (Name) complained, "it's getting me so fucking wired. I don't see why they think they can interrupt my time to talk about shit they'll never achieve! They called me seven times yesterday. /Seven/," (Name) yawned.
"Want me to stick all their furniture to the ceiling?" Clint asked, petting both (Name) and Pepi.
"You know, just because Nat did it to you when you kept annoying her, doesn't mean you can do it to strangers you've never met before."
"Oh, why not? It took me fucking forever to get it all down, imagine if you woke up to /everything/ on the ceiling. Including yourself," Clint watched his friend sit up and walk over to where his bag was, fishing out a jar of treats. Pepi sat to attention, standing on her hind legs and trying to figure out what her owner had planned for her. She chirped again, (Name) twirling his lone finger and watching Pepi do her own twirl, begging with her paws. Throwing the treat in the air, Pepi catches it in her mouth. He then throws a cat treat at Clint, watching him catch it in his hands, "so, how's it been besides the asshole hagglers?" Count watched (Name) retake his seat, Pepi now on the desk.
"I just need more sleep— that's all. Don't worry about me Clint, as your therapist, I do believe that it is my job to do the worrying in the relationship," (Name) grinned.
"Well, I'm worried about you as a friend, not a patient. Two different things."
"Don't worry, I'm gonna be good." Pepi purred against (Name)'s chin, rolling and presenting her stomach like before, (Name) pressing his face gently into her belly.
"Every time you feel like taking a nap but you can't, do you just do that?" Clint gestured to (Name) in Pepi's stomach.
"It's called Tummy Time you degenerate, and its very crucial to my daily schedule thank-you-very-much," (Name) said as he turned his head to talk to Clint better, "how long you gonna be back until you're shipped off to wherever?"
"I'm retired, remember? It's official this time, by the way," Clint said, "I told the Avengers that I wasn't coming back to the team, that I was done for good. Let's hope I listen this time…"
"So is Kate officially taking the title of Hawkeye then?" (Name) asked, remembering the small girl he introduced him to with a pension for a bow and arrows.
"Yeah, seems like it. She's following in my footsteps with a fury. Just trying to make sure that SHIELD doesn't try to corrupt her head with their ideals."
(Name) and Clint talked for a good while, the director of the hospital interrupting the two and sending (Name) home early for the night to make up for the graveyard shifts he's pulled the last few days. Fitting Pepi to her ESA harness, Clint helped his friend gather his belongings to leave for the night, having a few days to himself coming up. (Name) said his goodbyes to his coworkers as he walked past them, leading Clint through the security gates and the front doors. Clint and (Name) parted ways at the carpark, (Name) and Pepi walking the way to his car alone. Opening the trunk door, the male practically threw his bag in, opening the door for Pepi.
Driving around Brooklyn when there was a dark rain was the best feeling in the world for (Name). It reminded him of when he was younger and free; driving around all of New York with his friends to visit weird gift shops at three in the morning. The street lights reflected on the wet roads, the gentle thrum of rain beating on the glass windshield. Pepi was always darting her head and eyes around every time a streetlight changed, the reflection on the ground mirroring it. Pulling into the parking lot of his apartment complex, he grabbed the umbrella he had stashed in the backseat, carrying Pepi in his coat to prevent his cat from getting wet as he ran to the apartment's front door, taking the lift to his floor. He told himself that he'd retrieve everything in his car tomorrow as he unlocked his door. Yawning, he walked into his apartment and let Pepi go finally, feeling her squirm like a wet noodle under his jacket. The cat padded softly to where her water and food bowl was, being patient as she watched her father unravel the Falcon themed scarf from his neck, hanging it up on a set of racks with similar style scarves. Finally ridding himself of the wet clothing, he fed Pepi, crashing on his couch. He was exhausted. He hadn't even eaten or plugged his cellphone into its charger before he fell asleep.
His phone rang at four in the morning, startling him awake with an anxiety attack. Pepi was sleeping on his chest, purring as she gave (Name)'s chin a gentle lick. Rubbing his blurry eyes, he pulled out his phone from his pocket, seeing the photo of himself and his good friend on his screen, (Name) smiling as he picked it up.
"Hey," his voice croaked, "how're you?"
"Oh, were you sleeping? Whoops! Sorry there." His friend apologized, (Name) moving Pepi to his lap and sitting up.
"Sam; it's half-past three AM. I typically like to be sleeping by then," (Name) watched Sam's face appear on his phone screen, (Name) propping his phone up on his coffee table, "where the hell are you? Looks like you're on one of those fucking Atlantis holiday stays," (Name) commented, trying to fix his messy bedhead.
"That's because I am, baby! Presidential Suite!" Sam flipped his camera to show off the room, "finally getting the vacation I've been needing and rightfully deserve."
"Yeah, I feel ya on that," (Name) sighed stroking Pepi gently, "how long you on vacation for?"
(Name) froze as he heard a voice in the background of Sam's side of the call, though Sam wasn't disturbed by the sound though, the camera being jostled around and some discreet mumbling being picked up by the microphone. When the camera was flipped back around to face Sam, it was actually world-renowned inventor and genius Tony Stark. Immediately (Name) freaked out, sending Pepi in a tizzy as the doctor apologized profusely about his current state, fixing his sweater and hair.
"Nice Iron Man sweater. I remember giving Sam the /same exact one/," Tony looked at Sam, who was pretending to be busy. (Name) was frazzled in thirty different ways, one of those ways being the sweater he wore wasn't an obvious Iron Man sweater; red torso and shoulders fading to gold on the upper arms, returning to red the rest of the way down. It could be seen as a trendy sweater from IZOD, but it was replicating the Mark XLVI suit from the Flughafen Leipzig-Halle airport battle. (Name) just so happened to receive the sweater as a gift from Sam himself, since he didn't like the 'ugly, clashing colours' as he described it.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," (Name) swallowed, feeling his face burn with embarrassment.
"Nah, it looks really flattering on you. At least it wasn't burned up and thrown away," (Name) was feeling several emotions at once currently, not expecting to hear from /the/ Tony Stark that he looked 'flattering' in any way, "You're the director of Bobbi's Care," it wasn't even a question and it sent chills up and down his spine, "tell me, how many veterans do you have in your apartment?"
"I'm sorry? I don't think that's any of your concern," Sam seemed proud of his friend standing up for his organization, "I don't disclose my tenants information. If I were to ask who your secretary was, you wouldn't give me their address, would you?" Despite having a panic attack, he felt confident with what he said.
"I can see what you mean, Sam. I like this guy," Tony smiled, "you're ex-SHIELD; retired because of mental health-related reasons. No need to confirm; I read your file. You went to the same school as Birdbrain here. When you were a SHIELD agent as a therapist you had Clint Barton as a patient after the Attack on New York by the Chitauri, and you helped Sam after the Clash of the Avengers battle. You've had your hands deep in the minds of the Avengers for a while now."
"I don't see where this is going; is this a scare tactic?" (Name) asked, looking at Tony Stark with a determined glint in his eyes, "I don't understand why you thought you could use Sam and I's friendship for your own gain here."
"It's nothing like that, I just have a few questions for you; you know about the Winter Soldier, correct?" (Name)'s heart dropped to his stomach, his breath stuck in his throat. Pepi let out a small meow, rubbing her head into her owner's chin.
"Yeah. Biggest talk of the century in my wing- I can't remember all the debates I've had about him with my colleagues-"
"Do you think the Winter Soldier deserves another chance at life?"
The question was unexpected; at a modest 4AM, an hour and a half before the sun would rise. (Name) was silent out of pure shock, watching Sam come into the frame once again to look at his schoolmate, watching the emotions cross his face as Pepi gave gentle licks to her owner's jawline. The only time (Name) moved was to look down at his cat and give her attention.
"Of course he does; if I do remember right, that man had nearly 70 years shaved off his life, being used as a fucking murder-puppet for HYDRA. He deserves to live the life he was granted with, living a life outside of the war. I think every fucking soldier deserves that- mind controlled or not. Why the fuck do you think I created my program? I've experienced firsthand what war does to a person's mind, how it scrambles it like an egg, then it'll throw you back into the world with nowhere to go, with no plan. So yeah, I think Sergeant Barnes does deserve another chance at life, and I will gladly snap at anyone who thinks otherwise."
"You wrote an anonymous 12-page essay on how you believe that the Winter Soldier was never a bad guy, making the point that, and I quote, 'typically-" Sam started.
"... Typically your classic villain will find pleasure in the pain and the hardships they bring with them. Some say the Winter Soldier is psychopathic- but to be a psychopath, you must first not feel any emotions at /all/. Yes, the Winter Soldier has had his emotions 'sucked' out of him, basically taking his brain and rewiring it to change how the brain processes emotions in order to completely halt the emotions, Though, being diagnosed as 'psychopathic' isn't common by a doctor's practice, but what some Mountain Dew-wired teenager will call their parents when they don't get their way. Psychopaths lack empathy, and therefore, will manipulate people to sometimes feel guilty for them, and achieve what they want. Because of this, there is no way that the WInter Soldier could be considered a psychopath- he does not care for his own end goal, but for whoever is in control of him. You could argue; "well, he's still a villain!" You would be wrong again, because unlike most bad guys/villains, the Winter Soldier doesn't enjoy taking life. The reason bad guys are considered 'bad guys', is because they know what they're doing is not correct and malicious. They are fully aware of their actions and how they cause chaos. Sergeant Barnes as the Winter Soldier doesn't have a moral compass to point himself in the right and wrong direction. As told by the other soldiers of the 107th and the Howling Commandos, they tell of Bucky being a righteous and kind man, taking care of his fellow soldiers and Steve Rogers himself, Mama Barnes herself telling about how he stood up for the young Steve Rogers when they were children.' I read the entire essay last night and I've never been so conflicted in my life." Tony took the wheel, carried it home with him, and tucked it into bed with the citation of a lifetime.
"Shit," (Name) hissed under his breath, remembering writing that paper purely out of spite of his coworker's disgusting rant on how the Soldier should be put down 'like a sick dog'.
"I agree with you. As much as I used to think it, I don't think Barnes is technically a bad guy. I can't imagine what they did to his head."
"What does this have to do with me?" (Name) finally asked, his voice serious and stern.
"What if I told you that Barnes /does/ have another chance of life, and you might help him achieve that? Sergeant Barnes' brain had be rewired back to its former glory, and is currently looking for residency in Brooklyn-"
"Yes."
"I, uh-"
"Yes. You had me at 'Barnes has another chance of life'. That's all I gotta hear."
Bucky woke up feeling like he's slept for another 90 years, yawning with an open mouth. He's been so restless since talking to T'Challa about going back to Brooklyn. Though he should really cut himself some slack, since it is something Bucky really wants. Only a few days had passed since Bucky brought it up and Tony was already confident that he found the best place for him, marking today as the day he was travelling to New York. Sitting in the cold seat of Shuri's lab, he waited for the young princess to emerge from wherever she hid. Looking at his Kimoyo beads, he saw that Tony would arrive in Wakanda later that evening, since he had a United Nations panel he had to attend with T'Challa. Subconsciously flexing his Vibranium hand, he recalled the memory of the Clash of the Avengers battle in Sokovia, a face appearing behind his closed eyes. A flash of red followed, making Bucky clench his hands tightly.
A chill ran up his spine. He hated it.
Shuri came into the room wearing a bright smile as they went through the normal exercises, trying to stir the pot of memories that slumbered in the back of his mind. Some things here and there he remembered, mostly about HYDRA, but he was told it's better than nothing.
"I can feel your excitement three rooms away," Shuri smiled, Bucky feeling flustered.
"Sorry," he bounced his knee, "I'm just nervous and excited. Do you know anything about where Tony is sending me?"
"I know a little, but my brother seems confident in Stark's decision as well. I have a hunch that you'll enjoy living in the city again, seeing how much you talk about it. Maybe you could go out and go dancin' again like you did back in the 1940's. Woo some women." Shuri flexed her eyebrows.
"Shuri, I will pay you to stop talking like that!" Bucky laughed at the younger's impression of him back in the 40's.
"In all seriousness, I do believe that will be good for you. There's so much technology can do before the mind needs to pick up its slack. There's so much I can do for you before I reach a brick wall. I'm confident that you'll be able to figure things out." A supportive hand made its way to Bucky's flesh shoulder, a reassuring squeeze following. Bucky nodded as he let out a heavy sigh. "Try to relax before this evening, Buck."
"I will… Thank you for everything Shuri," Bucky stood up, giving the smaller female a hug, "you were like a sister to me- my black, memelord little sister," Shuri laughed.
"And you're the broken white brother I've always wanted." She went to detach the Vibranium arm like she normally did, but Bucky stopped her.
"Maybe… Maybe wearing the prosthetic will make this guy I'm meeting less uncomfortable than having a missing arm?" Bucky asked in a small voice.
"Worry about you being comfortable before other people, Buck. If you want to wear it, I won't stop you. Remember that you are allowed to be selfish though." The two smiled at one another.
Leaving Shuri back at the castle, instead of heading immediately back to his small hut like he normally did, he decided to go to the marketplace, wanting to distract himself from this evening. He took the transit to the market near the castle, adjusting the cloth covering where his Vibranium arm was so it wasn't too obvious. Shopping around, he greeted some of the Wakandans that smiled at him, sticking out like a sore thumb as the only white man in the street. The Wakandans were nice to him though, not rude to him in the slightest. He spoke to some of the merchants, the merchants always telling him stories about how they fought wild boars over some salmon the other day. The merchants always told great stories, Bucky's noticed. Checking the time on his beads, he noticed it was close to the end of the United Nations meeting Tony and T'Challa were in, coming to terms that it was finally time to leave Wakanda.
Taking the public transport, his communication bead flashed, shaking his wrist twice to show a small hologram of a message from Sam Wilson, who visited him often once he was out of ice. The message he sent was a how-to guide on how to put on eyeliner. Snorting, he shook his head and stuffed his hand in his pocket, stepping off the train and walking the rest of the way to his small home. It wasn't that bad of a walk for him, basking in the warm Wakandan sun and it started to slowly set. Hearing a distant rumble, Bucky looked in the skies to see a Wakandan flyer zoom past him and land a handful of yards away from him. Bucky's heart thumped in his chest, the nerves coming back to him and lighting every inch of his body on fire. Visibly swallowing, Bucky walked up to the opening doors of the flyer, watching Tony nearly trip on the way out, not ready for the rumble of the flyer. Bucky smiled, though tried to hide it the best he could.
"I can see you laughing there Barnes," Tony chastised, "go ahead, you can laugh."
"Sorry," Bucky exhaled his laughter out of his nose, "how was the panel?"
"Eh, same shit it always is. So, you ready to leave Wakanda and come back home?"
Home; it sounded foreign to Bucky. All he's known for most of his life is a cold chair that electrocutes his head. Sure, he had his hut on the outskirts of the Border Tribe, but that's a recent accommodation for Buck. No, Tony was talking about going back to Brooklyn, his original home. Sucking in a tight breath, he counted for a few seconds, releasing all the tension in his body.
He wordlessly nodded.
(Name) was pacing.
Pepi followed him with every step, watching her owner mumble to himself like a crazed man. She meowed at him everytime he went to pull his hair out of stress, twisting his fingers to keep his hands busy. He stopped pacing to run over to his desktop, sitting down and reading the article he wrote what felt like ages ago, still in awe that Tony Stark not only found it, but was able to quote it word-from-word. Pepi stood on his desk, walking in front of his monitor to block his view, meowing as she licked his nose. Smiling, he shut off the monitor and turned to read the file that Stark supplied him from Barnes' time at Wakanda, trying to keep himself busy. He then moved the file to reveal the floorplan of his apartments, erasing some notes he wrote in pencil about 'vantage points', still in the mindset of a SHIELD agent sometimes. A knock to his door made his head snap up, making his way around his desk (and roadblock Pepi) to open the door to his new visitor. Exhaling, he punched the visitor in the shoulder rather hard.
"You scared the everloving shit outta me, Falc," he pulled his friend into the room, "here to make sure I don't pace myself into the floor?"
"That's the plan, Doc," a toothy smile was flashed at his schoolmate, "damn, your office is a fucking /mess/." (Name) looked at his desk covered in scattered papers, empty express coffee cups, a knocked over cup of pencils and pens- (Name) went a little wild this morning, "why are you shoeless?"
"I don't want to worry anyone with the sounds of my shoes pacing on the hard floors, so I took them off to pace in silence."
"Oh my god, you're actually fucking crazy Doc," (Name) sighed, "I love you, remember that (Name)."
"Thanks Sammy," (Name) messed with his hair, sitting against his desk, "I can't remember when I had more than four hours of sleep."
"You wanna postpone this then? I don't think Buck would mind-"
"No! I mean, sorry, inside voices," (Name) sighed again, "Mr Barnes is probably just as nervous as me, I could imagine more. I don't want to make his worrying worse if I stall this meeting."
"You need to learn to be a little bit more selfish, but I get it."
"My biggest flaw," (Name) shrugged as looked at the clock, "I hope I don't scare him."
"You? Scare /him/? You're like the human equivalent of a marshmallow." Sam was glared at, "it's true! You won't even yell at Pepi when she bites you!"
"Yeah! Well, it's because she doesn't ever do wrong in her life! She's perfect," Pepi looked up at Sam when she heard her name, chirping for attention.
He crouched down to scratch under her chin, "when we were in school, I never thought how life would take us after getting our diplomas. I still remember you ducktaping Angus Redding like a mummy to the school mascot's statue because he cheated on your sister. God, how the hell you got him that high off the ground and still ducktaped him is still an AMC mystery," the two laughed at the memory, "now here I am, a fucking Avenger fighting aliens and murder-robots, and you're basically the therapist of the Avengers treating us basketcases like we're not fighting aliens and murder-robots."
"You sure have a way with words, Falc," (Name) shook his head, "never knew where we'd end up, but I think we have it good. I regret a lot of things, but one of them isn't meeting your stupid ass in that library nearly ten years ago. Sure, we got kicked out of the library because we were being too rowdy, but damn, watching you grow up from Sam Wilson to The Falcon was fucking miraculous."
"Look at us, thinking back and reminiscing like old people," Sam laughed.
"Oh my god, we are so /old/."
"You're older Doc."
"Oh wither up and die."
The two old friends laughed, melting any tension in the room away. (Name) sagged against his desk, fixing his hair in the reflection of his diploma hanging on the wall. His h/c locks have seen better days for sure, twisted into small little 'devil horns' as he would call them, pulling out a small desk mirror from his drawers to fix his appearance.
"I'm gonna go see what's taking them so long, alright?" (Name) nodded, watching his friend leave the room, keeping his door open by a crack.
(Name) felt nervous again, making sure he looked presentable for Sergeant Barnes, hoping he didn't look as washed up as he felt. He started to organize his desk, hiding the Winter Soldier file from sight and setting the floorplan of Royal Ridge Apartments, all the information pamphlets he's created over the years sitting next to it. Sitting down at his desk, Pepi carefully stepped around the papers, lying down like a bread loaf next to her owner. (Name) listened for the chatter of Sam, hearing nothing but the normal ambience of the hospital. Checking his phone next, he worried about if Barnes was struggling with the atmosphere of the hospital, with the noises of the machines being too overbearing for him. (Name) was fortunate to have his office closer to the ground floor, but any hospital you go to is noisy no matter the time of day. Sure, it was a little later in the day, nearly time for dinner for most of the patients and even some staff members, but there was still a decent amount of traffic in the hallways.
(Name)'s worries were abandoned by the loud laughter of Sam, hearing him address Tony. (Name)'s heart thumped wildly, twisting and popping his knuckles again. Pepi licked her owner's hands, playing with his fingers like they were a feather toy, being gentle with her claws. Grounding himself, (Name) forced himself to release the tension in his jaw, watching the shadows of four people stretch on the ground near his opened door, watching Sam poke his head in. Nodding to his friend, he stood up from his desk, watching Sam enter with three other people, his eyes immediately going for Barnes'. The lock of eye contact made him dizzy, thanking the lord that they couldn't see the slight shake in his knees as he cleared his throat. Sam must've sensed his nerves, because he was right next to him, arm slung around his shoulders.
"T'Challa, Tony, Bucky; this is (Name). We went to Albany Medical College together; this guy is one of the most important people in my life."
"I would say the same, Sam, but Pepi has that title," (Name) found himself joking, Pepi walking over when she heard her name.
"What? After I told my friends all that good shit about you you're gonna leave me hanging like this?!" Sam cried out.
"If Clint knew I was replacing him with you, I'd never hear the end of it," Sam laughed, "ignore him now, it's such an honor to finally meet you, Sergeant Barnes. I'm not sure how you are with physical contact, but if I may I would love to shake your hand," (Name0 offered a handshake, Bucky looking a little confused at the gesture. A small nod from Sam let Bucky confirm his action, shaking (Name)'s hand gently. The warmth of (Name)'s hand against Bucky's was comforting to Bucky, grounding him a little about the fact that this was really happening and this wasn't some sick trick by HYDRA. Bucky watched as he introduced himself to the other two in the room as his flesh hand tingled with the sensation, "Mr Barnes, is there any particular way you would like me to address you as?" He was at a lost of words for a while- everyone assumed that he was just 'Bucky'. No one's asked him what he was preferred to go by.
"Can you call me James?" He wasn't sure why he asked that, but it felt natural to him.
"Of course. You can call me (Name)- no need for 'Doctor' or anything. How are you feeling today, James?"
"Can I answer honestly?"
"I would prefer that," Bucky- James looked at (Name), reading their body language.
"I'm very nervous," James finally said.
"Would it help to hear that I am too?" (Name) said, looking at James, "I'm very bad at meeting new people for the first time."
"Me too…" James trailed off, looking down at the cat that was standing at (Name)'s feet, trying to climb up her owner's leg. (Name)'s eyes followed where James was looking, looking at Pepi.
"This is my Emotional Support Animal, Pepi. She's six years old, and she was born hairless." (Name) introduced his needy femline, picking her up and holding her gently, "are you allergic to cats?"
"No. I didn't mean to stare, sorry," James apologized, watching how Pepi nuzzled her head into (Name)'s chin.
"It's not everyday you see a hairless cat in a hospital. I find no offense in it. Did you want to pet her then?"
"I don't want to hurt her…" James muttered in the tiniest of voices, though due to years of working as a therapist, (Name)'s trained his ears to pick up the small voices.
"If I thought you'd hurt her, I wouldn't've offered. I'm not here to force anything onto you," James watched as Pepi gave a sleepy cat smile at him. Nodding slowly, (Name) made very gentle strides to James, still holding the cat. Her bright blue eyes were focused on Bucky, chirping and stretching a paw out for him, (Name) readjusting his hold on her to prevent her from reaching out. With a very shaky hand, James let his hand hover over Pepi's head, watching her sniff him curiously, before rubbing her entire head on his hand. Bucky went silent with a small gasp, seeing in his peripherals that (Name) was holding his breath. The tension was released as Bucky gently rub his index finger on Pepi's forehead, the purring growing louder.
"For looking like a shrivelled up alien, she's kinda cute…"
"She was raised with an Emotional Support dog, so she picked up the skills, or so they say. She's able to tell when I'm about to have a meltdown and stop me from hurting myself.." (Name) mumbled, though he knew James could hear him, "I'd be dead without her…" his voice was even quieter, though James could still hear.