Steve sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, very deliberately hanging his jacket on the hook on the wall before curling his fingers tightly around his journal and pressing his lips together. Okay, he thinks slowly, cycling another breath. Okay, just calm down for a second and think.

Looks like I'm going to be testing out Jason's techniques a little sooner than I thought. Another part of his brain thinks sardonically.

Steve ignores that part and breathes in again, swallowing carefully. Okay, he thinks, opening his eyes. First things first, what is the problem?

"Try to pin-point what is triggering the anxiety," Jason had said. "Sometimes there isn't anything specific, but if you can find out what's triggering you, it's easier to figure out how to fix it."

So. Problem. Bucky is gone.

No, his thoughts cut in, scolding him sharply. The problem is that Bucky didn't respond to my call. Whether or not he's gone is still to be determined. Steve pulls in another deep breath and tries to think about what he knows for sure.

"Often with anxiety, we catastrophize," Jason had explained. "Our brain jumps to the worst possible conclusion and makes us panic. If we can pull back and examine those conclusions, it can be helpful in trying to lessen the symptoms."

Okay, so. He'd come in and hadn't heard Bucky and had assumed that he'd left or something equally catastrophic had happened. But… JARVIS would have alerted him if something like that had happened right? He hadn't mentioned anything during the elevator ride.

Steve can feel his body begin to shake microscopically as he makes his way into the living room, thanks to the adrenalin shooting through his system, but he's less inclined to believe that Bucky has run away or managed to die in the last hour.

He could have decided to go somewhere else in the tower on his own, he reasons, his eyes sweeping the living room. That would be a good thing, meaning he's willing to move by himself—

His gaze freezes on the half-open door leading to his bedroom, his ears picking up the very faint sound of somebody's breathing from the other side.

Surprise and confusion flood through him as he slowly makes his way over to the door. He'd never told Bucky he couldn't go in his room, but he hadn't really expected his friend to actually work up the nerve to do so either. And it had to be Bucky in his room, right? JARVIS would have warned him about an intruder.

Even so, Steve clutches his journal tightly to his chest as he pushes the door open, almost holding his breath as he slips inside.

He's met instantly by a deer-in-the-headlights look of pure fear.

Bucky's head snaps up as he enters, his face pale and his eyes wide as he sits on the floor on the far side of the room, the closet door open next to him and a collection of papers spread out on the floor in front of him.

Steve's mouth opens in surprise as he recognises the papers and the cardboard box sitting next to Bucky as Tony's present, given to him almost a year ago on his birthday.

"Bucky—?" He starts, stepping forward only to halt again as Bucky flinches away, his back hitting the wall behind him and his arms raising jerkily as his breath stutters into overdrive, his entire body freezes as he stares open-mouthed and terrified at Steve.

Steve's own breath catches painfully in his throat and his stomach somersaults unpleasantly at his friend's abject terror. He closes his eyes and breathes in quietly through his nose before breathing out shakily through his mouth.

It's okay, he thinks desperately as he cycles a few more breaths. It's okay, I can do this, just… just breathe.

He opens his eyes to find Bucky's gaze still on him, his friend seemingly doing his best to merge into the wall behind him. His chest heaving up and down in frantic, stifled breaths.

Steve breathes slowly and carefully sinks down into a crouch, his eyes never leaving Bucky. "Hey," he says quietly, and a shiver runs through Bucky at his words. "I… I know you're scared." Steve swallows. "But you're not in trouble. I'm not mad, no one's going to hurt you."

Bucky's eyes dart around the room before landing on Steve again, his pupils wide and dilated.

"You're not in trouble," Steve repeats, crossing his legs under himself and sitting down, setting his journal aside and trying to keep his posture as open and relaxed as possible. "You didn't do anything wrong, you're not in trouble."

Bucky's fingers spasm slightly and he ducks his head, his shoulders pressing back into the wall behind him, the sound of his breathing and rapid heartbeat loud in Steve's ears.

Steve lets out a slow breath and tries to organise his thoughts into a plan. He needs to help Bucky calm down, then maybe they could get somewhere. His mind drifts back to Jason's grounding techniques and inspiration dawns.

"Bucky," he says, leaning forward slightly. "I need your help… can you find me something that's blue? You helped me with the colours before, remember? Can you find something that's blue?"

Bucky's head stays motionless as his eyes dart around the room. It's not exactly bursting with colour, and the only light is that of the sun coming through the window, but it should be enough…

"Blanket," Bucky blurts out. His eyes landing on the cover of Steve's bed and looking about two seconds away from scrambling underneath it himself.

"Good." Steve nods, setting his hands palm up on his knees. "Can you find me something brown?"

They continue like that, Steve asking for a colour and Bucky responding, until Bucky's breathing and heartbeat settle into a healthier rhythm and the odds of him forcing his way backwards into the wall fall to about zero. By then, Bucky is less tense, but shaky. His body crashing down from its most recent adrenalin rush.

Steve doesn't feel much better honestly, but he also feels a warm flare of hope spring up in his chest as he looks over the scene in front of him.

Bucky had come into his room and gone through his stuff.

Bucky had chosen to come into his room and go through his stuff.

After days and days of walking around like a puppet without a string, Bucky had chosen to do something without being told, something that he'd thought he'd be punished for.

And that, in Steve's opinion, is probably one of the bravest things he's ever seen.

And he desperately doesn't want to mess this up.

Moving practically at a glacier speed, Steve eases himself slightly closer to where Bucky's crouched next to the collection of paper, his heart pounding away as he keeps his eye on Bucky's hunched figure, searching for any sign that his actions will send him off again into another spiral of panic.

Bucky tenses as he nears and Steve pauses, holding his breath and keeping his legs crossed, his hands out in the open. "What were you looking at?" He asks, his own heartbeat speeding up along with Bucky's at the question.

Bucky doesn't so much freeze as… still, at the question. His entire being focusing on Steve and his seemingly innocent question.

Steve keeps his shoulders relaxed and speaks to a patch of wall to the left of Bucky's huddled form. "I'm not mad," he says conversationally. "You can look at it, I was just curious about what you found."

Bucky continues to stare at him, his breaths measured and even as he mentally calculates his options. Steve feels himself settle into his cross-legged position, the world blurring slightly as he zones out, preparing to wait however long Bucky needs for this.

For this, his patience knows no bounds.

Eventually Bucky shifts and edges back towards the collection of paper fanned out on the floor, his eyes fixed intently on him as if watching a temperamental guard dog who might spring in to attack at any moment.

Steve remains completely still, his eyes the only thing that move as they drop down to look at the paper that Bucky hesitatingly nudges with one of his fingers.

It's a picture taken of him during his training in Camp Lehigh, presumably from Howard's file on the serum that had come with Tony's present. The shot had been seemingly taken without his knowledge, his squinting gaze aimed off to the side, rather than focused in on the camera.

"You were… you wer' small," Bucky rasps quietly, his shoulders climbing up to his ears as he speaks and his face ducking down to hide behind the strands of his hair.

Steve nods mutely and once it's clear no impending doom is about to fall, Bucky leans forward and brushes another picture with a shaking hand, this one a post-serum shot of Steve against a white background, numbers measuring his height running up along side him.

I remember that, Steve thinks as he waits for Bucky to get his thoughts together. That was right after Doctor Erskine died, they were trying to catalogue the serum's effects.

"Then you wer' big," Bucky manages finally, his fingers resting on the edge of the picture, his eyes coming up ever so briefly to meet with Steve's.

How confusing would it be, Steve thinks suddenly, his eyes on his friend, to have memories of two different people, seemingly attached to the same person?

His eyes meet Bucky's and he thinks that maybe, Bucky remembers more than he lets on.

Steve's eyes drop down to the post-serum picture and he nods. "Yes," he says quietly. "I was small." He nods to the other image. "And then a war happened and… my friend got taken away to fight. And I couldn't do anything because I was too small."

He tears his gaze away from the faded photo and stares blankly at the wall next to Bucky, his hands coming up to twist in his lap. "Then a man came to me and told me he could give me a chance, a chance for me to go and fight instead of staying behind and waiting for my friend to— to die."

Steve swallows and his eyes dart to Bucky's before glancing away again. Bucky stares at him with the gaze of a starving man eyeing food through a store window.

"They gave me something, a serum," Steve continues, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. "And then I wasn't small, and I wasn't sick…" His throat flexes and he swallows again. "And then I went to go fight and find my friend." He looks up at Bucky. "And that's what I've been doing ever since."

A heavy silence falls on them after that, Bucky remaining crouched, ready to bolt should his actions suddenly be deemed unacceptable.

His eyes skim over Howard's notes on the serum to another collection of photos, those of the Howling Commandos and— and Steve's sketchbook, open to a page showing a sketch of Bucky sitting on the floor of a tent, his face narrowed in concentration as he reassembles his gun.

Bucky's eyes dart up to meet his and skitter away again as he seemingly manages to grow even more tense, his entire body coiling in on itself as he opens and closes his mouth several times.

"I…" He flinches back slightly before his gaze seems to become pinned on a photo of the Commandos, their arms around each other's shoulders in relaxed comradery.

"I…" He tries again and his voice drops into a whisper. "I— I knew you." His eyes snap up to Steve's, wide and cautious and full of an intense sort of defiance that Steve is beginning to recognise as something so supremely Bucky that it's hard to breathe.

I know you, his eyes say, as Bucky clenches his jaw and waits for him to react. I know I know you, and I might not understand why, but you can't take that away from me.

A lump rises in Steve's throat and he draws in a shaky breath. "Yes," he says brokenly, his eyes burning. "Yes, you do— you did."

The rooms stills again, time almost warping as the seconds drip by. And then, Bucky nods once and suddenly time falls into place again, Steve becoming acutely aware at how hard his heart has been pounding against his ribcage.

He blinks and Bucky seems to slump slightly, looking about as tired as Steve feels which is impressive since Steve hasn't been getting much sleep.

He flicks his eyes over Bucky's tired expression and comes to the conclusion that whatever had been going to happen here, had happened, and that it'd probably be best if he lets them move on from whatever… this was.

He runs a hand through his hair, his movements monitored carefully as ever, and gives Bucky a half-smile. "I think…" He says slowly. "I think we could both use some tea. Why don't you clean this up, and I'll get something started."

He keeps his movements slow and choreographed as he stands up, Bucky making no move to touch the papers spread on the floor until he's about half-way out the door.

On his way back to the kitchen, Steve blows out a long steadying breath and can't fight the giddy smile that breaks out over his face. His throat swells up tight with emotion and his hands shake slightly as he reaches the counter and leans over it, trying to catch his breath and blinking determinedly against the growing wetness behind his eyes.

He knows, of course, that this incident isn't going to magically fix Bucky. He doubts very much that things are suddenly going to change drastically from what they've been for the last few weeks. But…

It's something.

And right now, that's enough.

oOo

When the Avengers return the next day, Steve is in Tony's lab, introducing Bucky to Tony's bots with the hope that having positive memories associated with the lab will help make Bucky more at ease the next time he has to go in for a check-up.

Once JARVIS announces the Avengers return though, they head up to the common room and Steve becomes aware of how tense he's been, only when he relaxes fully upon seeing all of them return unharmed.

"We come bearing gifts," Tony proclaims as he enters, lifting up the handle of a heavily bolted box, presumably containing Loki's scepter. "Let's hope Thor gets back soon, so we can get rid of this thing."

"I'll put it in lock down for you Sir," JARVIS says by way of greeting and Tony looks all to happy to pass off the magical staff.

"Great," he says, making his way around the crowd of Avengers currently spreading out through the common room and heading towards the elevator. "Hey Cap," he says, patting Steve on his arm as he approaches. "How've you been?" His gaze jumps to where Bucky's currently hiding behind Steve's left shoulder.

"Terminator!" He smiles, leaning towards him but not quite meeting his eye. "How're those meds treating ya?" Bucky's eyes narrow and the skin of his forehead crinkles as he seems to debate how to respond to Tony's exuberant manner.

Steve's mouth twitches and he clasps Tony on the shoulder. "We're good Tony," he says, as he scans the man in front of him for any hidden injuries. "And you?"

Tony waves his hand. "Oh, you know me… Actually, I had a few ideas I wanted to try out while I was gone, so it's good to be back." He tries to pull away towards the elevator and Steve's hand tightens on his shoulder just briefly enough to catch his attention.

"You sleep okay?" He asks, catching Tony's eye. "From my experience it's hit and miss on those quinjets."

Something small seems to still in the whirlwind that is Tony Stark and he flashes Steve a brief but sincere smile. "Well enough," he says quietly. "Better, now that I'm back."

Steve nods and steps back, letting Tony pass and focusing back on the rest of the Avengers.

Tony disappears down to his lab to lock up the scepter and the rest of them work at unloading the quinjet. He has to hide a satisfied smile as he watches Bucky carry the boxes of equipment out of the jet with ease, knowing that while he would have done the task without complaint before, now he can do it without pain too.

Bucky had been on Tony and Bruce's medication for a few days now, and it seemed to be working. Oh, he never said anything, but Steve had definitely seen him rotating his arm and shoulder as if testing out his mobility, a look of awe on his face, when he thought that Steve wasn't looking.

Of course, the medication hopefully wouldn't be the final solution to Bucky's chronic pain, but it was at least a start.

By nighttime, the Avengers are all settled in and rested up, the group congregating in the common room to share pizza and catch up after the mission.

Bucky's appointment with a dietitian isn't for another few days, and as such Steve makes use of the common room kitchen to make their customary smoothie.

"Geez," Tony comments as he comes over for a drink of water. "How many calories are you packing in there, Cap?"

"About two thousand," Steve replies distractedly as he very carefully empties an ice tray into the blender. "Thanks to our metabolism, me and Bucky need a lot just to break even."

Tony whistles and drinks down a gulp of water. "Have fun with that," he says, setting his glass in the sink.

Yeah, no kidding, Steve thinks dryly as he screws on the blender lid and starts the machine. A super soldier's metabolism isn't really all it's cracked up to be.

Pushing his thoughts of how much he'd like to be able to eat a normal amount of food aside, Steve finishes up his smoothie and goes to join the other Avengers. Bucky takes his smoothie with bland acceptance and sticks to the edges of the room, not quite lurking but putting in a good effort.

Throughout the night, various Avengers drift closer to him and make quiet attempts at connection, never long enough to actually cause him any distress, but just enough to… plant the seeds, as it were, of some sort of bond.

It's when he's watching Natasha do nothing but simply stand next to Bucky when Steve realises that he's now going to have to make good on his promise to Jason and ask the Avengers to watch over Bucky once and a while.

Tomorrow, he thinks determinedly while snagging another piece of pizza before Clint can claim it all. I'll take care of it tomorrow.

And, he really does mean to, it's just, by tomorrow it felt better to maybe wait until after he and Bucky had seen the dietitian, and then by then he felt he should wait long enough to establish Bucky's new food regiment…

And then it's three days until his next appointment with Jason and he still hasn't spoken a word to anyone.

His journal, the copy of his self-care circle folded up and tucked inside, sits accusingly on his bedside table the next time he abruptly re-enters the land of the conscious, and he knows today he'll have no choice but to do something about it.

It's not like it's really that hard, he thinks stubbornly as he prepares the morning smoothie, plus a bowl of oatmeal for both of them, a smaller one for Bucky. The doctor had said that since Bucky could chew, swallow and digest just fine, it wouldn't be too much of a process to start introducing solids again.

Apparently, as long as they went slow, with small amounts at a time, just like introducing solids to a baby, then there shouldn't be any complications. The doctor hadn't seemed too worried since Bucky's blood levels had been good (he also hadn't seemed fazed by Bucky's quiet terror around him, but maybe that just came with being a doctor), and Steve's just glad that Hydra hadn't permanently messed up Bucky's digestive system. For his part, Bucky had been startled at the first offer of a few almonds, but now he seems amiable enough to eat whatever he's offered.

Of course, none of that really solves his current problem.

I'll have to call them together and explain it all at once, he decides as he and Bucky start washing up the breakfast dishes. It will be less complicated that way.

Less complicated, but not exactly easier.

He has JARVIS call the Avengers up to the common room to talk, and asks Bucky to stay in his room when he goes up, feeling it would be too weird talking to the Avengers about this with Bucky hovering over his shoulder. When he arrives in the common room, Sam, Bruce and Natasha are already there, sitting on the couches in front of the TV and talking quietly as he settles in beside them.

"Hey Steve," Sam says looking up from his conversation with Natasha. "Is everything alright?"

Steve tries to give him a reassuring smile and waves his hand. "No need to worry," he says easily. "I just have something I needed to discuss with everyone."

"Well, that sounds ominous," Clint declares, gliding into the room and climbing over the back of the couch to plant himself next to Natasha. "Whatever it was, it wasn't me."

Sam chuckles and Natasha wacks the archer on the back of the head as the elevator doors to the common room swish open and Tony breezes through. "Wait, what did Clint do?" He asks confusedly as he sits down across from Steve.

Clint squawks in protest and ducks away from Natasha. "Nothing!" He insists. "I was just asking Cap what he called us all in for!"

Tony scoffs and leans back in his chair. "Oh, so now we definitely know you did something," he says with a wave of his hand. Clint's mouth drops open again in protest, but he closes it as Steve sits forward, ready to begin the meeting.

"This has nothing to do with anything Clint did," he reassures and Clint folds his arms over his chest with a victorious look. "I actually…" he swallows. "I wanted to talk to you guys about Bucky." Tony's face tightens slightly at his admission and the other Avengers all stare at him quietly as he works on telling them what he needs.

He'd already decided to leave out the fact that he's calling this meeting on the recommendation of his therapist, since he doesn't think he's ready to admit that aspect of his life to the Avengers just yet (although, Sam and Tony already know, and it's only a matter of time before Natasha finds out, so the sentiment is kind of pointless), but it's not hard to explain how he feels that Bucky should get used to being around other people.

"So, I think it'd be good for both him and me, if we weren't always together," he finishes, looking around at the Avengers. "And I was hoping you guys might be willing to help with that."

He fights to keep his shoulders from hunching at his request and his fingers tangle together in his lap. "It wouldn't have to be anything complicated," he reassures hastily. "Just something like spending an hour in the gym with him or watching a movie or something, just until Bucky is able to start doing things by himself."

He happens to glance up at Sam at that moment, and the man's face is practically glowing with pride from his spot on the other couch.

"Sounds good to me," Clint speaks up suddenly, shrugging his shoulders. "Hey, I could teach him archery or something, that should keep him busy." He looks over at Steve. "He doesn't already know how to do that does he?"

Steve blinks a little in surprise, a warm feeling bubbling up in his chest. "No," he says. "I don't think Hydra ever taught him that."

Clint's face breaks out into a smile and Steve feels like smiling back.

"I'm sure we could all figure out something to do with Bucky while we're here," Sam speaks up and the other Avengers nod along with him, although Tony's face still looks slightly tight and pale, and Steve feels a swell of uneasiness rise in his stomach at the sight.

"I'll start the archery tomorrow," Clint declares, rubbing his hands together and looking far more excited than Steve was expecting. "It's always a treat to induct someone new into the art."

Tony is unusually silent as the rest of the Avengers start dispersing and Steve realises suddenly that they're going to need to talk right now. He hadn't really— Tony was always so willing to help everyone, he'd offered the tower up, he'd offered his skills and knowledge… and Steve has a pretty good feeling that Tony would just keep giving and giving if he could, regardless of whether or not he actually had anything left to give.

Tony had already given so much, and now he was asking for more, without really thinking about what Tony was going through, because no matter how the engineer tried to brush it off and act like it was nothing, Bucky was probably a constant painful reminder of what had happened to his parents.

"Tony," he says, as the billionaire gets up to leave the room. A look of surprise flickers over Tony's face at his words and he turns back, flashing a half-smile at Bruce as the last of the Avengers file out of the room, leaving them alone.

"Need something Cap?" He asks flippantly and Steve's eyes dart back and forth as he scans him, suddenly not sure how to approach the situation.

"I…" He swallows. "I… wanted to thank you for what you've done for me and Bucky," he says, and Tony waves his hand, his face politely blank. "And," Steve presses on. "I— you… I don't want you to feel that you have to spend any more time with Bucky than… than you want to."

Tony's eyebrows dip down for a moment and Steve can already hear his upcoming denial before he opens his mouth.

"Tony," he says firmly, giving the man a look from his seat on the couch.

Tony's mouth twists and he rolls his eyes upwards as he runs a hand through his hair. "Oh, so we're doing the emotion thing now are we?" He asks sardonically. Steve presses his lips together and continues to look at him silently before Tony lets out a sigh and comes closer to the couches, plopping down with a projected air of exasperation. He slouches against the cushions, lounging in a movement that looks practically calculated. "Not sure what exactly you want me to say," he drawls after a moment.

He's uncomfortable, Steve realises and his mind flashes back to Tony's flippant manner that had been so absolutely grating when they'd first met on the Helicarrier. …things make a lot more sense now. "You don't—" He swallows. "I just thought… we haven't really talked about… this. Now that Bucky's here."

"And… that's something we have to talk about?" Tony asks and Steve reminds himself to be patient. This conversation probably isn't going to be easy for either of them.

"Tony," he says again, thinking back to some of the things Jason had said to him about self-care. "I want to know what's best for you right now. I know it can't be easy—" Tony huffs dryly and slouches further on the couch, his hand twitching in a way that makes Steve think he'd rather be holding a glass of something right now.

"Still don't see why we have to talk about it," he says sullenly, his face turned away as he stares determinedly ahead of him. Steve stares at him, unsure how to proceed, he hadn't seen Tony this closed off to him since before the invasion of New York.

"Because you're my friend, Tony," he says quietly.

Tony's eyes dart to his for a second before darting away just as quickly and he tenses, a flurry of emotions flashing over his face. "What do you want me to say Cap?" He bites out finally, his shoulders winding up tighter and tighter as he speaks. "I know what you're gonna say." He waves his hand vaguely. "I know what he means to you. I know what you think about it, but he killed my mom—" Tony cuts himself off and swallows, his face jerking away as his other hand clenches on the couch cushion.

Steve's hands clasp together tightly in his lap and his throat flexes as he swallows, his eyes flickering slightly as he thinks. Obviously, Tony had come to this conversation with some preconceived ideas as to what it was going to contain.

I know what you think about it, he'd said. He seemed pretty certain that Steve was going to try to change his position on this, despite the fact that he hadn't really implied anything of the kind. He scans Tony's tense frame and a lightbulb dawns.

He feels guilty about being conflicted about Bucky, he realises, and he wonders how many times Tony had had this particular argument with himself before.

Beside him, Tony breathes in slowly, his eyes still focused distantly ahead. "And… and he was tortured," he says quietly, bringing up the other side of the argument. "A lot." Tony's hand flexes and then relaxes slightly on the couch, and Steve stays silent as he waits for him to gather his thoughts.

"I mean," Tony's eyes are conflicted and unfocused as he speaks, his voice quiet and verging on vulnerable. "I mean, just looking at him, he—" His eyes flicker to Steve's and he waves his hand as if to illustrate Bucky's current state of being. "No one should have to live through that," he says, his hand coming up unconsciously to rub at his arc reactor.

Steve swallows and nods, his thumbs rubbing over each other as silence falls over them. "But it's still hard," he says after a moment. I know what he means to you, Tony had said, as if that dictated how he was allowed to feel about this.

Tony nods and looks away again, his fingers twisting over the fabric of the couch. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I'm not— I'm not, exactly, mad at him… it's just… hard not to think about what he did. What Hydra did."

"I know," Steve says intently, untangling his hands to rub them along his pants as he leans forward. "That's what I mean. I don't want you doing anything you're not comfortable with."

Tony huffs and ducks his head, a dry smile on his face. "Ah right," he says, waving his hand. "Boundaries and all that jazz."

"I'm serious, Tony," Steve says. "You're just as important."

Tony opens his mouth to reply before pausing, stunned, his whole body frozen as he stares at Steve with a slack jaw. Steve feels a sudden wave of anger at whoever had managed to convince Tony that he somehow wasn't important, that people could just take and take without giving back every once and a while. (Another part of him desperately desperately hopes that he hadn't accidently perpetuated that belief.)

"Right. Okay." Tony clears his throat and looks away, his hand rubbing against the couch cushion. "What did you have in mind?"

Steve opens his mouth and closes it again. "Well… I don't know," he says slowly. "It'd sort of be up to you. What ever you want. Obviously, you don't have to spend more time than you want to with him. If you want, I can maybe get Bruce to take over looking after his arm and we could keep out of the common room—"

"Okay wait," Tony cuts in, raising his hand and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "You can't keep him locked up in your room just because I'm uncomfortable." Steve goes to say something but Tony silences him with a gesture. "Just… just let me think for a second okay?"

Steve nods and settles back slightly as Tony tilts his head up, his eyes closed as he debates with himself. After a moment, he blinks open his eyes again and looks over at him.

"I'll still look after his arm," he says firmly, his hands completely still. "I can keep you or Bruce in the lab if I need…" He rubs his hands together and looks out towards the windows of the common room. "And I'll have to get used to him eventually so there's no point in staying out of the public parts of the tower, just…" He looks over at Steve. "Maybe no one-on-one adventures just yet."

Steve nods along, his shoulders relaxing slightly at Tony's words. "Yes, of course," he says quickly. "And… and if that ever changes…any of it, you can always… do what you need."

"Right," Tony claps his hands together and stands up, shaking himself out dramatically. "Good, good talk." He gives Steve a two-fingered exaggerated salute. "If there isn't anything else, mon Capitaine?"

Steve's mouth quirks up slightly and he shakes his head, catching on pretty quickly that they were now officially done with 'the emotion thing'. "I'll… I'll see you around?" He doesn't exactly intend to phrase it as a question, but it comes out that way anyway.

Tony's eyes flicker over him for a moment and he gives him a small smile as he goes to turn away. "Yeah," he says quietly. "Yeah, of course."

oOo

Steve probably shouldn't have been surprised at how willing the other Avengers were to help him with Bucky. For the first few times, a walk outside with Natasha or a trip to the library with Bruce, he sticks around in the background to try and smooth out the process and keep things from being overwhelming for Bucky, because of course, he knows that this is probably a little difficult for him.

For his part, Bucky seems tense at first, probably a little confused and cautious about suddenly spending so much time with the other Avengers (and away from Steve), but he very quickly seems to accept it as one of his new mission-related tasks and relaxes into the new routine.

Of course, with Bucky taken care of, Steve is suddenly left with a lot more time on his hands than he's used to and he finds himself a little at loss for what to do with himself.

Before taking down Hydra, he'd spent his time working for SHIELD and plotting with Tony to infiltrate Hydra. When he wasn't doing that, he'd mostly spent his time training or researching the last 70 years of history.

He hadn't quite… realised just how much time he'd spent working until he had nothing to work for anymore. SHIELD was dismantled and for the time being he was effectively benched from chasing Hydra… He couldn't even train as long as he wanted to because he tended to lose track of himself and go too hard by mistake.

The first day with no work to do, no mission to train for, and no Bucky to look after, Steve finds himself wandering around his rooms in a vain attempt to find something to do. His hands skim over the bookshelves in the living room, remembering how at one point, he'd tried to occupy his time by reading. Something that he'd enjoyed doing long before the war.

When had that stopped exactly?

He drifts over to his room and he finds the sketchbook and pencils that he'd gotten for his birthday stored away in the drawer of his desk, only the first few pages of the notebook containing anything worth mentioning.

That's right. He'd meant to start drawing more too, hadn't he? He used to draw all the time, but he hadn't really, at least not much, since he'd woken up. His eyes sweep over to his closet where he knows Tony's box sits on the top shelf, a collection of photos sitting inside that he had, at one point, intended to put inside a photo album. His fingers stroke over the cover of his sketchbook as he thinks, and after a moment, he looks up towards the ceiling.

"JARVIS?" He says carefully. "Can you help me look something up?"

AN: :D I really enjoyed reading your theories from last chapter. I hope you enjoyed the result. Bucky's slowly working on his own healing.

I also felt Steve and Tony really needed to talk. Tony's doing his best, but of course he needs to work at his own pace (and Steve is obviously willing to accommodate, but we all know Tony would have suffered in silence because he's self-sacrificing, anxious and cares a lot more than he pretends to *sigh*.)