A/N: Lilo and Stitch always makes me cry, and I couldn't help but notice some parallels...This one's set after the grocery store chapter-Bucky's been home for a month or two. Guest appearance from Nat, just hanging out with the boys.

By this point, Bucky had met the rest of Steve's Avenger friends. They were all nice enough, but they were an awful lot to take. Especially all together. Bucky didn't really think he could handle being around them for extended periods of time just yet.

He liked Natasha, though. He even felt comfortable calling her Nat, which he felt was a good sign. She understood the sort of things that had happened to him—he didn't have all of her backstory yet, but he knew similar kinds of things had happened to her in the Red Room—and she was able to be sympathetic without making him feel like she felt sorry for him. She was easy to talk to, but she didn't get offended when he didn't want to talk. She didn't mind explaining things he didn't get. She wasn't scared of him. She mostly just treated him like a normal person, and he liked that. It made him feel like maybe he could be one.

So, yeah, Bucky liked Nat. He even felt comfortable around her enough that he didn't feel the need to shut himself in his room when she came over. (He'd done that with some of the others—Steve wasn't going on missions right now, so they dropped by sometimes to talk about stuff—and he was kind of embarrassed about it, but he couldn't help it.)

She'd been coming over a little more in the past week or two. Bucky wondered if it was because Christmas was coming up. He got the feeling she was kind of lonely, but didn't want to let on. (He was intimately familiar with that feeling. He knew what it looked like.) She would come over and make herself at home in the living room or in the kitchen, and Sam would grumble that she'd better wash all her dishes, but that was the only comment anyone made. Last week she made cookies.

Today she'd come over after lunch and dropped a backpack full of board games on the table. She and Steve and Bucky had played Scrabble until Sam got home. Bucky remembered that one. He'd played it with his sister. He'd played it with Steve a lot too. An image was settling in the back of his brain of a sick Steve propped up in bed under a blanket, scrabble board laid out across his legs and Bucky sitting at the other end. The letters bounced every time Steve coughed.

Bucky thought maybe he used to be good at this game, but he found himself having to really focus on the words he was playing. He'd accidentally laid out a Russian word earlier without realizing it.

"We're playing in English," Nat had said, as if it was a mistake anyone could have made, sliding the letters back across the board to him. Steve had looked at him worriedly, the way he always did when something like this happened, but Bucky had just swallowed down a knot in his throat and followed Nat's lead, and Steve followed Bucky's. The mix-up was kind of embarrassing, but Bucky appreciated both of their responses. It would have been easy to get annoyed with Steve's sympathetic concern, but it meant that Steve cared. No one had cared about Bucky in a long time. He was grateful for it, as he was grateful for Nat's nonchalance.

Nat and Steve had bickered over the validity of words and abbreviations, and when Sam had gotten home, they'd invited him to join.

"I've got Monopoly too," Nat offered.

"No," Bucky said. "Steve's not allowed to play Monopoly."

"Oh?" Nat said, arching a curious eyebrow.

Bucky grinned. "He cheats."

Sam laughed and Steve blushed. "I do not!"

"He steals from the bank," Bucky said. "I remember this, Stevie. In fact, I feel like I remember Peggy threatening to shoot you," he added.

"No, that was just because she was a sore loser," Steve said.

"I don't think she lost that game. We don't know who won, because you started taking money from Jim's pile and he got mad and flipped the board over."

"No one ever proved that I did that," Steve argued.

"Alright, so, not Monopoly," Nat said, sliding the game back into her bag with a smile. "Clue?"

Neither Steve or Bucky knew how to play that one, but it seemed easy enough. Although…"This is a weird way to solve a murder," Bucky pointed out. "I mean, you can just look at a dead body and know if it got shot or stabbed or strangled. Why do we have to figure out if it was a knife or a gun?"

"And there would be blood on the carpet or something," Steve added. "Or, you know, they'd say, 'Hey, there's a dead guy in the kitchen'."

"You guys are over-thinking this," Sam said, rolling the dice. "Ha, ha! Made it to the ballroom."

"That's the danger of playing this with people in our line of work," Nat said. "I can't play this with Clint, it drives him nuts."

"Alright, Scarlet in the ballroom with the wrench," Sam said, moving all the little pieces into the room.

"Aw, come on," Bucky groaned. "I've been trying to get to the other end of the board for fifteen minutes. Why do you guys keep pulling me back?"

"You're a suspicious character," Steve said, sliding a card over to show Sam.

"Hey, if it does turn out to be me, and I guess that, do I still win or do I lose because I killed the guy?" Bucky wondered, taking the dice and beginning another attempt to get to the lounge.

"You'd still win," Nat replied.

Bucky did not win the game, but he didn't turn out to be the murderer either, so he felt like he came out ahead. (Sam won, and Steve turned out to be the killer.) Steve headed to his room to write some emails when they were done. Nat and Bucky picked up the game while Sam turned on the TV and found a football game. Bucky remembered football, but he didn't remember if he liked it. He still wasn't sure. Baseball had been more his thing.

After the quarter was over, Nat sighed. "Enough football. You guys want to watch a movie?" she asked.

"Okay," Bucky said. He liked watching movies. And a lot of them had come out since the last time he'd really gotten the chance to enjoy them.

"Great!" she enthused, hopping up and moving for her backpack.

"Hey, what about the game?" Sam asked, gesturing at the TV.

"This game is from 1993," she said.

"It's a classic. It's a Christmas tradition."

"So is watching movies."

She moved for the DVD player and Sam picked up the case she set on the table. "Lilo and Stitch? How is this a Christmas movie?"

"It's not," Nat said, sliding it into the player. "But it's a Disney movie. Christmas is a time for Disney movies."

Bucky remembered Disney movies too. He and Steve had gone with some girls on a double date to see Snow White in the theater. He remembered enjoying it, although he couldn't really remember what it was about.

"Ooh, a Disney movie?" Steve said, catching the end of the conversation as he came back into the room. "Cool!"

Nat hopped back onto the couch where she'd been sitting next to Bucky. She glanced over at him a couple of times while the previews played. "What?" he asked finally.

"Nothing," she shrugged. She looked over at him again. "Okay, maybe it's a weird question, but can I play with your hair?"

"What?" he asked again.

"No one else on the team has hair long enough for me to play with. Except Thor. Thor lets me play with his hair."

Bucky still wasn't entirely sure what she meant by 'play with his hair'. And he knew he could say no and she wouldn't be mad. "Alright," he still found himself saying a little uncertainly. She scooted across the couch a little closer, and Steve shot a quick look over from his chair, a little surprised, but he was smiling.

Nat started brushing his hair out with her fingers—he swallowed down the initial urge to flinch at hands coming at his head. Her fingers were gentle, though, carefully untangling any knots they came across, and once they could glide freely through his hair without getting caught, Bucky was glad he'd decided to let her do this, because it felt really good. He might just fall asleep.

The movie started—a cartoon about a little girl who didn't seem to quite fit in. "Your hair is amazing," Nat said, running hand over the top of it. "What kind of shampoo do you use?"

"Um," Bucky started, a little thrown off by the statement. "Something with coconut? I don't know; Steve buys it."

"Mm," she mused. "Conditioner?"

"The kind that matches the shampoo."

"Remind me to look in the bathroom before I go and see," she said. "Seriously, your hair is even softer than Thor's. Whatever you're using, I need to be using some of this." She stopped playing with his hair and leaned across to Steve's chair to run a hand through his hair.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked.

"Just checking," she replied. She returned her hands to Bucky's hair. "Definitely need to get me some of whatever you guys are using."

As the movie went on, Bucky realized when she'd said 'play' with his hair, she actually did mean 'play'. She was pulling it back and twisting it up, or plaiting little braids all through it. He was kind of impressed that she didn't seem to be looking at his hair while she did any of that, her eyes totally on the movie.

It was an interesting movie. The little girl and her sister had unknowingly adopted a blue alien instead of a dog. Other aliens were trying to catch the blue one, and there was a government guy who reminded Bucky of Nick Fury, who he'd only met the once. Steve and Sam both agreed that there was a resemblance.

They stopped the movie in the middle to order some pizza for dinner. "What does everybody want?" Steve asked.

"Anything but onions," Bucky said. He'd had enough food now to remember what he liked and didn't like. He'd never liked onions. And Steve had been allergic to them, so that had simplified things back when they'd shared an apartment before the war. He wasn't allergic to them anymore, of course, but he still hadn't quite acquired the taste. Although, he and Bucky both ate enough now that he could've put onions on his pizza if he wanted—it's not like they were sharing one.

"Meat lover's with olives!" Nat called from the couch.

"What is the matter with you?" Sam demanded. "Olives are the devil's food. Let's do pepperoni with mushrooms and green peppers."

"Blech," Nat said, making a face. "Black olives, Steve, not green ones. I'll take pepperoni, but don't you dare put any fungus on my pizza."

"Bucky, you want garlic bread?" Steve asked as Nat and Sam continued to argue about vegetables.

Bucky nodded eagerly.

"And I'm guessing Cherry Dr. Pepper for the soda?" he asked with a grin.

Bucky smiled and nodded again. He'd recently discovered the drink and it was his new favorite thing. Even more than garlic bread.

When the pizza and drinks arrived, they sat everything out at the table. Sam and Nat inspected their pizza to make sure none of the offending vegetables crossed the lines they'd been divided into. "Are there any dips for the breadsticks?" Nat asked.

Steve pointed to a pile in the middle of the table. "No ranch?" Sam asked.

"Steve's got it all," Nat said, dumping three packets of honey mustard on to her plate.

"No, I don't, Steve said, sliding the pizza box over.

"Dude, you've got, like, fifteen ranches over there!" Sam complained, leaning to look around the box.

"No, I—"

"Gimme some of that," Sam demanded, reaching across the table. Steve pulled the pile away and Bucky scooped it away from him, moving it even farther from Sam. "Not cool," Sam complained, tossing a balled-up napkin at Bucky's face and lunging for the packets, knocking over the, thankfully closed, bottle of soda.

"Boys," Nat chastised.

"Sorry," they chorused. Sam set the soda bottle back upright.

"Steve, you need to share," she added, sounding like she was talking to a three-year-old and using a tone of voice that reminded Bucky of his ma. Steve took the pile back from Bucky and slid one of the ranch packets across the table to Sam, followed shortly by two more after a pointed look from Nat.

Steve offered to wash the dishes, and Bucky and Sam cleared up the trash and took out the pizza boxes. Nat made hot chocolate. It took Bucky a little while to figure out what it was—it had been a very long time since he'd had any. Nat caught him staring at the cups and held up a bag filled with tiny marshmallows. "You want some?"

His memory was not the most reliable, but Bucky could only remember having hot chocolate with marshmallows in it once in his whole life—such a treat like that would have been a luxury when he was a kid. Some of his excitement must have shown on his face, because Nat laughed and dropped a large handful of them into one of the mugs and handed it to him.

They returned to the living room to finish the movie. Nat went back to braiding Bucky's hair, after holding her hands up to show they were free of pizza grease and marshmallow stickiness. The marshmallows on top of his hot chocolate had melted into a gooey mess, and it was one of the most delicious things Bucky could remember tasting.

"Nat, this is amazing," Sam said, drinking deeply from his own mug. "What kind is this?"

"She makes it herself," Steve said, going back to the kitchen for another cup.

"Really?" Sam asked, sounding impressed. "Can I have the recipe, or is it one of those, I'd-tell-you-but-I'd-have-to-kill-you kind of things?"

Nat laughed. "No, you can have it."

"Do you have secret recipes?" Bucky wondered.

"Birthday cake," Sam answered.

"Oh," Steve groaned, coming back to his chair. "Seriously, Buck, it's the best cake ever! She won't let anyone watch her make it. Clint tried sneaking in to the kitchen through the vents to watch and she tied him to the porch."

Bucky laughed. "Really?"

"I warned him," Nat said serenely. She patted Bucky's shoulder. "I'll make you one for your birthday."

They stopped talking as the movie approached its climax. Nat's hands had stilled in his hair, and Bucky looked over to see her watching the screen, eyes glistening as the government guy took the little girl away. He shifted a little and looped an arm around her, and she didn't look up, but she leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder.

Not much later, the little family was back together again, but the little blue guy was being arrested and loaded up to be taken away. A weight settled down onto Bucky's chest, pressing him back into the couch until he couldn't breathe while the little guy said goodbye. "Excuse me, I—" he said to Nat, pushing her off his shoulder and getting quickly to his feet.

He shut the bathroom door behind him and leaned his hands on the sink, resting his forehead on the cool glass of the mirror with a sigh. This is my family, the little alien had declared. I found it all on my own. A dangerous, destructive killing machine on the run had been adopted by a lonely, persistent little weirdo who didn't know when to quit. Stitch and Bucky had both resisted it at first, but once they got their heads straightened out, it was all either of them wanted.

It's little. Stitch had the little girl and her sister. Bucky had Steve and Sam and Nat.

And broken. He thought about Steve, who'd only ever wanted to do the right thing, and life had taken everything from him, piece by piece. Thought about Sam, who'd been to war and lost his friend and part of himself. Thought about Nat, who'd been denied a childhood and raised to be a killer.

He thought about himself, who hardly knew how to do anything except hurt people.

But still good, Stitch had asserted with a satisfied nod. Yeah. Still good. Steve could have mourned the friend he lost and then moved on. Sam could have thrown up his hands and declared this mess to be not his problem. Nat could have kept her distance like she'd been trained to do.

Bucky could have kept running.

But none of them did. They were weird and dysfunctional, but they were a family. And they were still good.

Bucky dashed a hand across his face, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Bucky was a broken, destructive mess, but just like Stitch, he was trying to be better. Steve refused to give up on him and refused to be scared away. Sam knew what it was like to lose someone, and Nat knew what it was like to be lost. Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind. Or forgotten. It meant Bucky finding the courage to ask for help. It meant Steve turning his life upside down and letting him in. It meant Sam finding ways to help him sleep. It meant Nat coaxing him to try new things. It meant movie nights, morning runs, cooking dinner, doing laundry, jokes, games, fights and apologies, nightmares and reassuring voices, pranks and stories and Scrabble tiles and murder mysteries and braids in his hair and pizzas divided into sections and ranch dressing and hot chocolate with little marshmallows.

It meant Bucky had a family again.

There was a soft knock at the door and Bucky wiped at his eyes again. "Buck?" came Steve's voice. "You okay?"

Bucky opened the door. "Yeah," he said. He still wasn't much for long speeches these days, had no idea how to convey to Steve the revelation he'd just had, so he hugged him instead. He could feel Steve startle a little bit at that—Bucky was rarely the one to initiate physical contact—but he raised his arms to hug him back and Bucky smiled.

"Yeah," he said again. "I'm great."