AN: Sorry this one is so short again, guys, I just couldn't get this scenes to fit in with any of the other chapters! And I won't even lie, the entire beginning was motivated by this video: watch?v=oEx5lmbCKtY

For timeline purposes, I'm following the dates listed on the MCU wiki page, wherein the events of Iron Man 3 happened in December 2012 and Thor 2 happened in November 2013.

Bucky toyed with his hair in the mirror before nervously fidgeting with his collar, wishing that Steve would hurry up already and finish changing so that they could go upstairs to the stupid party Tony had insisted they attend. He'd badly wanted to refuse, and probably could have gotten Steve to agree with him, but Tony had given them the puppy eyes, promised that it would be an Avengers-only event, and finally whined at Bucky about them all needing to celebrate his birthday seeing as he'd been on a mission the year previous and frozen in an ice cap for the sixty-odd prior. Bucky was still exhausted from the day-long ordeal of posing for cameras and playing with kids, but he really hadn't been able to argue further with Tony by that point. So… here he was, adjusting the sleeves on his ridiculous cranberry-colored collared shirt, waiting to just go upstairs and get it all over with.

They had finally launched the civilian line of Stark's cybernetic prostheses that afternoon, and Tony had been insistent that Bucky participate in the festivities, being the most famous face of that side of the company. Bucky could only imagine how hard it had been for Tony to admit as much, and figured that he did owe the guy for all of the work and money he had put into his own arm in the first place, so he had agreed to help however he could. That, in retrospect, had been an enormous mistake.

It had started with an 0630 wake-up call from JARVIS, only to find hair and make-up artists already waiting in the living room of the floor in Avengers tower that Steve and Bucky were sharing. They dolled him up as had been determined appropriate, leaving Bucky feeling sticky and ridiculous and Steve far too amused, especially considering his own history on the stage, which Bucky frequently and grumpily brought up. Once he'd been deemed camera-ready, Bucky was dragged upstairs to one of the floors of the marketing department, dressed up in gym clothes (which he thought completely defeated the purpose of all of the make-up, but no one was asking for his opinion), then put through literal hours of photo shoots, capturing his arm from all angles, both in poses and in action shots. They'd finished by dressing him up in a replica of the suit he had worn during the Battle for New York – he still had a similar one for SHIELD events and the occasions that he and Steve made charity trips to children's hospitals – and getting a final round of photos, before finally setting him free for lunch.

Stark had intercepted him immediately, of course, dragging both Bucky and Steve off to some random deli in Midtown to eat before they had to return to the tower for the afternoon program. Thankfully, Steve had agreed to suit up and join them as well, taking some of the pain out of the media circus, but it had still been a trying few hours. The kids had all been well-behaved enough, and it had been wonderful to see so many children who would otherwise not have had functioning limbs have their lives changed by receiving such remarkable tech. Even better was the knowledge that because of the modifications Stark had made to the manufacturing process, the line of prostheses would be cheap enough that the vast majority of people who needed them in the States would be able to afford them. All the same, Bucky had found himself with less and less tolerance for crowds since the war, and keeping up the friendly, normal act for an extended period of time was proving to be more grueling than any mission was nowadays. So when they had finally dismissed the media that had been covering the event and signed the last of the memorabilia that the kids had wanted it was an enormous relief.

And now came the culmination – they were given a couple of hours to themselves to change and decompress from the day, while Tony did his best to wrangle up the old crew. Or, at least, buy enough pizza that Barton would be lured over from his place in Bed Stuy… in all likelihood Romanoff would follow, provided she wasn't on assignment in another continent. And for the rest – well, Bucky would let Tony worry about the party details. All he cared at the moment was that he would be able to avoid dealing with strangers again until their return to DC.

Finally, Steve made his way out of his bedroom, rolling up the right sleeve on his blue dress shirt. Bucky felt his mouth go dry, swallowing thickly as he gave himself a single second to appreciate how good his friend looked in modern-day clothing before pushing it all to its usual lock-down spot in the back of his mind. It was a feat that seemed to be getting increasingly more difficult – he'd been struggling his entire life with trying to downplay his inappropriate feelings for Steve, but now that they spent nearly all of their time together, and both had the means to really pay attention to what they wore and how they looked, well… Steve looked even more incredible than usual. All the damned time.

Bucky schooled his face as Steve finished with the sleeve, glancing up with a warm smile and standing still as he looked at him. "I like the shirt," he finally ended up saying, his cheeks coloring slightly, "you ready to go?"

"Ready as I'm going to be," Bucky responded dryly, "let's get up there – it can't be any worse than the rest of the day has been."

Upstairs was considerably more sedate than either of them had been expecting, much to Bucky's relief. Barton was seated on one of the couches in the center of the room, dutifully guarding the stacks of pizza boxes that were piled on the table in front of him, while Romanoff and Stark were talking by the bar in the corner of the room. There was no one else to be found – apparently Banner had been staying away from New York on principle, and Thor was still busy enjoying civilian life with his girl in London, as far as they all knew. It was incredibly nice, though… they'd settled in on the couches at the center of the room, shooting the shit and falling into a comfortable banter as they shared pizzas and beers. Although he and Steve saw Romanoff and Barton fairly regularly for SHIELD missions, it was the first time that they'd been together as a group since New York, and Bucky found himself unwinding easily, genuinely enjoying the evening as it went on.

Considering the company, he should have known better than to have expected it to last.

"Oh wait, wait," Stark grinned, before calling out, "J – pull up twitter on the big screen, would you? Bucky needs to see the video that's been trending all afternoon… I'm pretty sure it's responsible for a fifteen dollar rise in StarkTech shares since it first went online."

Before Bucky could protest, the screen in front of them lit up, immediately loading a clip of a boy fitted in one of the StarkTech arms they had unveiled today, the plates brushed with chrome paint and with the decal of familiar blue wings on the deltoid. The reporter responsible for the piece asked him who his favorite super hero was, to which he proudly responded "Bucky Barnes!" before the clip cut to the two of them meeting one another in the press room, sharing a fist-bump with their matching prostheses while cameras flashed like mad.

"I'm telling you, Barnes… forget about SHIELD, I'll hire you on the spot for StarkTech marketing. Name your price." Tony insisted with a grin as the screen went dark.

"I'm gonna have to pass, Tony," Bucky had responded easily, rolling his eyes at the pleading look Stark sent him in response. "Seriously – not that I don't appreciate it, but if you think about it, it's better for me to be in the field showing off what the arm can do, anyway. I wouldn't exactly be anyone's favorite superhero if they only saw me posing in magazines, right?"

"Fair enough," Tony sighed, and for one second Bucky was foolish enough to be relieved that he'd gotten off the hook; only for the conversation to move into even more awkward territory. "Speaking of –" Stark continued, "we need to get you a better code name, Buckaroo. You're the only one of us without one, and as charming and whimsical as Bucky Barnes sounds…"

"Thor doesn't have a nickname," Bucky pointed out.

"No, but he's a Norse God so we can make exceptions," Tony responded smartly. Bucky rolled his eyes but otherwise didn't comment. "Come onnnnnnnn, let's come up with one – it'll be fun."

"Buck's already got a badass code name," Barton said lazily, his eyes going wide as Romanoff kicked him roughly underneath the coffee table.

"Wait, what? And you've been holding out on us?" Stark asked, feigning being hurt.

Next to him, Bucky felt Steve tense up. He'd have given anything to have avoided this conversation, especially with Tony, given how much the entire deal clearly bothered his friend. "It's classified, Tony – we can't start using it, anyway."

"SHIELD gave you a code name? You've got an official, badass, government-sponsored superhero name and you've been holding out on me?" Stark whined, setting his drink aside and becoming even more annoying. "Come on, I wanna hear it; there's no point making a new one up if you've already got one."

"If we told you," Romanoff pointed out, "we'd have to kill you."

"Oh please," Stark responded, rolling his eyes dramatically. "I'm still a SHIELD consultant, you know, I have just as high of security clearances as the rest of you. Besides… it isn't as if I couldn't just hack their mainframe and find the records, anyway."

Bucky sighed, knowing that he was right. While he didn't want to tell Tony, or to even have the conversation in the first place, he figured that giving the man what he wanted would at least limit the amount of time they had to spend discussing the damned thing. "The Winter Soldier," he finally said blankly.

There was a beat of silence around the room as Bucky avoided looking into anyone's eyes, before Stark snorted quietly. "Seriously? That's what you're keeping so hush-hush." He looked around at them all incredulously before continuing, "Am I missing a reference? It sounds familiar…"

"It's from Thomas Paine," Steve responded stiffly. "It's a play on what he wrote in The American Crisis, a contrast to the Summer Soldier and the Sunshine Patriot."

Stark frowned at that, studying Steve's face far too closely for Bucky's liking. "So – he's a contrast to you? Why are we all looking so upset over Bucky Bear's ominous historical nickname…"

Bucky scrubbed his face tiredly before simply spelling it out. "The Winter Soldier does the things that the Sunshine Patriot can't do; the dirty things necessary for the country to become greater."

"So the state-sponsored assassinations." Stark said it so bluntly that Bucky couldn't begin to think of a way to refute him. "And they make a joke of it with your code name. Sounds like SHIELD, alright."

"Don't start, Stark," Barton groaned.

"I'm just saying… how many snipers could one government organization need? Isn't this making you worried about your job security, bird man?"

"Nah…" Barton said lazily, "we run considerably different missions."

"Barely even train together anymore," Romanoff chimed in, "it's sad, honestly – you can't exactly find opportunities to study wounded male egos like that anywhere else."

Stark simply rolled his eyes and crossed his arms across his chest.

"It's true, Tony – an arrow in a target leaves a pretty obvious mark as to who was responsible, so for covert ops the bow won't do," Bucky responded sardonically, gesturing towards Clint with his beer. "And Barton's a shit shot with a rifle."

"Hey!" Barton yelled with a frown, "That's not remotely true. Jeez, a guy beats your course record one time and he thinks he's the hottest shot that ever lived…"

"Pretty sure it was more than once, Barton," Bucky responded with a laugh, "and when it's by more than twenty points, it hardly matters."

"I don't have to take this kinda abuse," Barton muttered, reaching up and flipping the switches on his hearing aids then slipping them into his pocket, before adding in a slightly garbled tone, "buncha dicks."

They'd all chuckled at that, and as was usually the case with making fun of Clint, finally moved on to less divisive topics. At some point they'd decided to throw a movie on, and Tony had freaked out over the realization that he hadn't gotten a cake for Bucky, leading to him and Romanoff running out of the room to work out a way to procure one, despite his insistence that it was really not a problem.

Bucky excused himself to use the restroom a few minutes later, making his way through the common room but pausing when he heard furious whispering coming from the area near the closed-off bar. He knew he probably shouldn't be eavesdropping on whatever it was Romanoff and Stark were discussing, but Bucky was still more than a little sore over the stunt that Tony had pulled at the end of the previous year, taking on a terrorist organization entirely on his own instead of reaching out to any of them for help. Granted… he was pretty sure that he and Steve had been on a mission with Romanoff in the South Pacific at the time, but it had been the principle of it all. Even half a world away on a mission, Bucky would have done whatever he could to help a friend in danger, especially one who'd done as much for him as Tony had.

So he silently leaned back against the wall, holding his breath and using his enhanced sense of hearing to catch the rest of their conversation. He'd blame his paranoia on years of having to pull Steve out of trouble, if he had to, and made a mental note to think on what it meant about him, that he had such a tendency to surround himself with completely reckless idiots.

"Come on, Nat, you can't deny that something is going on there," Tony muttered insistently. "I love Rhodey with my whole damned heart, but what we have is different than the two of them." He paused for a moment as Romanoff stared at him stonily, before adding, "You know as well as I do that if they'd been born in the eighties, they'd be marching on the Capital demanding marriage equality."

"Pretty sure Rogers has already done that one," Romanoff responded with a bored tone, rolling her eyes as Tony choked on his drink. "Oh come on, Stark – there's no way that's a surprise to you. He fights for truth, justice, and the American way; of course he's going to be willing to protest for equal rights of all citizens. Besides," she added with a small grin, "I'm pretty positive he and Barnes have a bet going as to who can cause Bill O'Reilly to have a stroke first."

Stark chuckled at that, "Okay, fine – you're right, that does sound like Rogers. But the fact still remains – I can't just sit back and continue watching them make moon eyes at one another. Barnes is a good guy, I like him, and watching him pine like a deprived puppy hurts me, it really does."

"Listen, Tony: I'm only going to say this once," Romanoff finally said sternly. "Even if you are right – which I'm not going to comment on, because it's none of my business – they need to figure it out on their own. If we start poking our nose in it, it's going to blow up in all of our faces, and regardless of what's going on between the two of them, the team doesn't need that kind of tension."

Bucky missed whatever Stark's response was as his heart started pounding so hard that he couldn't hear much of anything over the rush of blood in his ears. He had honestly thought that he'd been good with keeping his feelings for Steve to himself – he may not have the same paranoia that he'd had in the forties, when keeping such unnatural thoughts buried were legitimately a life-or-death situation, but his diligence had still been there. And, granted, Stark and Romanoff were two of the people that he spent the most time with (outside of Steve, of course), if they were concerned that something was up… who else could tell? Steve had made no indication that he noticed anything off with Bucky, but if someone were to figure it out and tell him; Bucky didn't even want to consider the potential implications for their friendship.

He took a few deep, calming breaths, swallowing his panic down before pushing himself away from the wall and returning to the common room, where Steve was still sprawled on the couch, his focus completely on the movie that Bucky had completely lost track of. Thankfully, Barton looked to be sleeping in the armchair he was draped across.

"I'm beat," Bucky said shortly, quietly enough that he wouldn't wake Barton who appeared to have slipped his hearing aids back in, "I think I'm going to just head down to bed."

Steve frowned slightly, looking up at Bucky in the flickering light from the television. "Are you sure? I thought Tony was trying to get a cake up here…"

"I dunno where they ended up," Bucky lied, "but I'm not much in the mood for sweets, anyway. You can stay, if you want…"

"No, it's fine," Steve insisted, already rolling to his feet and making his way towards Bucky. "I'm good to go if you want to – our train leaves early enough tomorrow morning, anyway, wouldn't hurt to get a good night's shut eye."

Bucky had half a mind to insist that Steve stay, not feeling entirely comfortable being in close contact with his friend at the time, but of course he couldn't bring himself to say it, especially as Steve's shoulder bumped against his own on the way to the elevator. "You alright?" He asked softly, a concerned frown forming between his eyebrows as they stepped into the light.

"Fine, just tired," Bucky lied again, focusing his attention entirely on the elevator door as it closed in front of him. Clearly he had to do something, as his age-old attempt at simply ignoring his feelings for Steve wasn't cutting it any more. By the time they'd reached their floor, he had the beginnings of a pretty good idea in mind, and locked himself away in his room with a quiet good night to ruminate on it.