You glanced around quickly, your mind a tornado of thoughts. Is this real? Is he actually...he's so upset...his mother...she has to be...he's nearly 100, so she's...he'll never see his mother again...did he even get to say goodbye? I'm not supposed to be here, this feels so wrong, I need to get out of here, now!
You finally found the ability to move and you darted for the door. You weren't sure if you had gone out unnoticed or not, but you didn't stop to check. You hauled ass up the stairs and straight into your room where you flung yourself into your bed and threw the covers over you. You breathed heavily and lay there under the comforter, not sure of what to do with yourself. You weren't sure why you ran and hid under the covers, you weren't sure why you were still hiding, and you weren't sure why you hadn't shut your bedroom door when you ran in. Peeking over the blanket, you saw Steve propped against your door frame.
"Why are we trying to run down the hall inconspicuously?" His eyes narrowed in amusement.
You huffed loudly. "I didn't want to bother him," you simply stated.
Steve raised an eyebrow, but he didn't question you any further. Instead, he turned to go back down the hall, calling back to you, "lunch will be ready soon!"
Lunch? But it's hardly breakfast time...
You quickly shut your door and slipped into a pair of comfortable jeans and a t-shirt. You washed your face in your personal bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. You felt a slight pang in your chest. Bucky doesn't have any family anymore. I suppose Steve really doesn't either. To just be frozen in time for so long and to wake up with nothing, it must feel...awful.
When you got downstairs, you noticed Sam leaning on the island with a beer in his hand. Steve was at the stove, stirring something in a pot, talking to Sam over his shoulder. You saw Bucky sitting at the table, scribbling in a journal. You stopped in the doorway to the living room where none of them would notice you.
"So I say we call the guy, have him check her shoulder and then figure it out from there," Steve said, seeming to be mid-argument.
"She needs a hospital, those cuts could get infected and her shoulder could be fractured," Sam argued back. "Besides, we don't know this guy and he doesn't know us. What if he suspects Bucky? We don't even have a proper excuse."
You chuckled inwardly. I always have an excuse prepared.
"You act like you don't trust her judgment. I'm sure if her shoulder were in that much pain, she would have told us by now," Steve calmly held his side, paying less attention to Sam and more to whatever he was cooking.
"I just get the feeling she's like your cyborg friend over here and won't tell anyone if she's hurting." Sam shot a thumb over his shoulder at Bucky, who didn't react at all.
"Bucky just doesn't say a lot," Steve retorted. "[Y/N] tends to speak her mind, so I'm sure we would know if she was hurting."
"I'm not saying I don't trust her, I just don't think she's the kind to be outright with it. She's been living with Kyle as her closest friend for so long, and she lost her mom, so I'm sure she's that 'I don't want to be a burden' type."
You decided it was probably time to break up the kids and stop the argument before it got heated. You snickered to yourself silently. They must miss fighting the bad guys because they sure do argue a lot. Worst way to get rid of pent up tension is to argue with your friends, guys.
"I'm just saying that I think she-"
"Who are we talking about, boys?" You strode into the dining room, making Bucky glance up at you as you passed through into the kitchen. Sam and Steve both jumped at the sound of your voice and you laughed. "Well, Steve, looks like you're not the only one that can use the element of surprise around here. So, who are we talking about?" You bent over, dropping your elbows onto the island, your chin into your hands, and you looked between the two of them. You had a little smile on your face, a knowing smile, but they didn't recognize it. They looked at each other and then averted their eyes.
Steve turned back to the cooking and cleared his throat. "So, [Y/N], how do you like chili dogs?" You moved closer to him, peering over the edge of the pot to find some not-so-bad looking chili. You shrugged and gave a small smile.
"You didn't ask me what I think," Bucky said loudly from the table. His voice sounded a little hoarse but you ignored it, immediately looking anywhere but in his direction.
Steve laughed and finally turned his back to the chili. "Buck, you always used to say you loved a good chili dog."
Bucky paused his scribbling for a moment and looked at Steve? "Yeah?" Steve nodded and Bucky began scribbling again. "Okay, well, that was 70-some-odd years ago." You squinted to try and make out what Bucky could be so desperately trying to get out onto paper. He's writing so fast, that paper looks like it's about to just up and start smoking, you thought as you focused on his hand moving the pen at a furious speed. You hadn't realized how obvious you were being until you looked up just enough to see Bucky's eyes right on you. You jumped and turned your whole body around in one fluid motion, feeling a blush creep to your cheeks. Why are you this way, why are you like this [Y/N], you thought to yourself, embarrassment overcoming you.
"I, for one, could use a few good hot dogs in my system," Sam barked out as he tossed the now empty beer bottle into the trashcan. Your eyes followed the bottle and you heard it hit more glass. As Sam and Steve picked up a new conversation, you scooted over to find quite a few empty bottles in the trash. Is something wrong that they aren't telling me? Or are they just comfortable enough all of a sudden to drink all the beer in the house?
A voice saying your name pulled you back to the current moment. "[Y/N]," Steve said with a chuckle. "Don't worry about all of those, we plan to replace them." You cocked your head in question. "The beer," Steve clarified. "Sam wanted one and Bucky wanted to see if the serum still affected his ability to get drunk. Most of those bottles are the beers he chugged while you were upstairs."
"The serum...?"
"Remember? That I told you about? The serum that made us super soldiers. It changed our metabolisms and bodily functions, and a side effect is that we can't get drunk."
"Yeah, but a few beers wouldn't do a refrigerator like you any good anyway," Sam smirked as Bucky, who had finally closed his journal, was sauntering into the kitchen. Bucky briefly mimicked Sam's smirk in a sarcastic way before pushing past him to stand closer to you and Steve. He made himself comfortable leaning against the counter next to the stove as you stood awkwardly by the trash and Sam looped around to Steve's other side.
You felt Bucky's gaze on you once again and you tensed. Does he know that I know? What does he know? What do I know? What's going on? You were beginning to psych yourself out and Bucky was giving you a concerned look.
"[Y/N], are you-"
"I'm fine, I just...it's really hot in here, I need some air," you stammered, speaking quickly and then making a beeline for the back door. You shoved past the screen door and let it slam shut, hearing one of the boys murmur "what's up with her today" before you hopped off the porch and moved quickly around the house.
You took a deep, calming breath when you rounded the corner. You pulled your hands up to your face and rubbed your temples.
"Be calm, stay cool," you mumbled to yourself. "It's not that big of a deal. Steve was the one that pushed you in," you tried talking yourself out of your odd panic. "You're okay. You're fine. He probably doesn't know. None of them do. It's cool. This is what you went to school for, just act cool." You let your fingers reach your shoulders and you rubbed the right one. You let your fingers lightly press into the left shoulder a bit, but a pain pulsed through your upper back. Still super bruised, you reminded yourself.
You wandered a ways out into the large backyard area and found Misty. You immediately plopped into the grass and called for your feline companion and she approached you happily. She hadn't gotten proper attention ever since the team moved in and she was missing you. She gave a faint meow as your fingers ran through her fur. You pulled her into your lap and she gave another meow as she situated herself and began rubbing her face into your shirt. You smiled down at her, petting her head lovingly. Not long after, there was a trail of kittens running towards you, searching for their mother. You giggled as Misty tried to avoid them, but they quickly piled into your lap and surrounded her.
You sat back, enjoying the company of the cat family. Seeing the early morning sun rays dance between the big, puffy clouds, you couldn't keep yourself from smiling. You lay down, back in the grass and eyes on the sky. What a wonderful place to get lost in thought.
Alright, so I need to call Dr. Johnson. Tell him that Kyle's big ass bull kicked me again. I had to get out of the pasture. If he sees it, tell him the bull damaged the fence. If he asks about the window, tell him you got careless when throwing the ball for Trig. She's a cattle dog, she could do some damage to a window if she chased the ball through, you laughed to yourself. That particular part of the story needed some brushing up, but you liked imagining the small cattle dog ramming through an entire window for a tennis ball. I guess I'll send the boys out to do some work while Johnson is here so that he doesn't actually have to meet anyone. Tell him Kyle is out at the moment. That's not technically a lie. And then, as for the cuts, just say that...well...what would I say to cover that? You closed your eyes, trying to think of a reasonable excuse. I mean, I could tell him I was practicing juggling knives.
You opened your eyes again and suddenly a dark figure was standing over you, blocking the sunlight. You turned your head to the side to see bare feet and dark pajama pants.
"Bucky?" Your voice sounded strained as you sat up, putting your hand over your eyes to shield from the sun.
"What are you doing down there?" His voice was booming compared to yours.
"I was just watching the clouds, playing with the..." your voice trailed off as you noticed the kittens had long abandoned you.
"Playing with the..?"
"Nothing," you shrugged. You pushed yourself up with your good arm and stood up straight, only coming to Bucky's shoulder. Tilting your head up you looked in his face and saw his usual bland lack of expression. "Did you need something," you asked sweetly.
"They wanted me to come get you to tell you the food is ready," Bucky said casually, giving the tiniest of smiles. You smiled back and laughed slightly.
"So you're the delivery boy, now?" Your smile only got bigger when he rolled his eyes and turned from you. You jogged up, struggling to match pace with him as you both headed towards the house. "Hey Bucky, can I ask a question?"
There was a moment of silence before he uttered a quick "sure."
"What were you writing in your journal?"
Bucky slowed down enough that you sped ahead of him before realizing he'd slowed his pace. His expression suggested that he was thinking hard for the right answer and you waited patiently.
"Well," he started quietly. "Sometimes I have memories. And I don't want to forget them, so I write them down. Just to kind of...you know, get back in touch with who I was," he said as he blinked slowly. You supposed he was trying to replay what he'd said so he would know if it had been a good answer.
You smiled brightly. "I think that's a great idea!"
"Really?"
"Of course!" Your smile must have been contagious because a grin began to creep onto Bucky's face. You got to the porch and you gestured for him to go in and that you'd be another minute. He disappeared into the house and you sighed. Your face fell back to the sad and concerned expression you'd had when you were in the music room with him. I bet he was writing about his mom...