Author's Note: Wow. Monday...again? Ugh! Well, hopefully this chapter will be a highlight to your day. Thank you all sooooo so so so much for the beautiful, kind reviews! You are making me and the Avengers all blush!

Loki: I don't blush.

Okay, so anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 37: Dancing

After the 'Spider-Incident', people begin to trickle back into the common area. Peter was all to eager to report the incident to everyone else with full detail. He dramatically reenacted the scene, much to Bucky's and your displeasure.

Natasha eyes you and Bucky with a small smirk on her lips. "So, don't care for spiders too much?" she questions teasingly.

Bucky's glare hardens even more, which you didn't even think was possible.

"I don't believe that anyone is completely fine with spiders," you say.

"That is actually wrong. You say me handle it well!" he said.

"Yeah because being bitten by a radioactive spider gives you no advantage whatever," Bucky remarks bitingly.

Peter doesn't seem to notice.

"Oh, don't be too bitter," Natasha says. "I have a fear of birds."

You frown. "Birds?" you ask.

Clint, who happened to walk in the room at that second gave a snort. "She doesn't have a fear of birds. She has a complete and utter die-of-fear-at-the-spot-of-a-feather phobia. You have never seen true fear until you see the look on her face when she sees a bird," he says, almost proudly as he plops onto the couch next to her, resting his arm on the back.

Natasha's gaze hardens, but you can see her squirming uncomfortably. "I can show you true fear if you want," she threatens. "Besides, I don't have a phobia."

"Oh, and why is that?" Clint asks as though he has heard the argument a million times before.

"Phobias are irrational. What I have is perfectly rational," she says, gritting her teeth.

You are surprised. In all of your memories of Natasha, she never seems to be loosing her cool like she is now. "Why is it rational?" you can't help but ask.

Clint gives her a smug look. "Go ahead, tell her," he gloats.

Natasha's glare is hotter than magma. "Clint decided it was a perfect time to scare me. He jumped out of the vents making…bird noises," she says softly.

You quickly cover your mouth. Natasha was an expert spy, but Clint gave her phobias. The idea was almost absurd.

"What about you, Tony," Clint calls over to Tony who is lounging next to the fireplace. "Any phobias."

"I have triskaidekaphobia," he says without even looking up from his phone.

You mutter to yourself, trying to find out what the word means. "Wait, thirteen? You have a fear of the number thirteen?" you ask, frowning.

"Yup," Tony says easily.

"So…you're superstitious?" you ask in confusion. You never really thought any of the Avengers were the superstitious type.

Tony shakes his head. "No. I just don't like the number thirteen," he says.

You frown. "Uh…why?"

He gives you a serious look. "Because it is ugly and offensive," he says earnestly.

You give him a bit of a strange look. "Okay," you say, trailing off.

"That's not a phobia. That's just a Tony," Bucky says.

"Whatever, I still hate it," Tony says.

"Right up there with Clue, huh?" you ask teasingly.

"Hey, Clue was stupid to begin with!" Tony snaps, and you can't help but giggle.

You never found out what any of the other's deepest darkest fears were because they were suddenly called off on a mission. Each Avenger suddenly got a text, told you they would be back in a few hours and disappeared. This reminded you of the first day you met Peter. Except, Peter left soon after because he was late for a day out with his Aunt.

So, it was only you and Bucky left at the complex. Bucky quietly slunk off to the gym or something, leaving you to your own devices.

The complex got incredibly quiet with no one around, and sometimes, it could be a little unnerving. You tried watching TV, but after flipping through a few channels, you deduced that nothing good was on. So, you rested on the couch, scrolling through your phone. You sent a few texts to Steve to ask what was going on and if everyone was all right, but so far, he had not answered. You hoped they weren't facing anything too serious. After all, if they were, you still weren't practiced enough with your skills to be of much help.

While you had gained a lot of control over your powers, you usually didn't risk it by doing anything big. Sometimes, as a prank, you would freeze someone's coffee, but that was usually it.

You twirled your hands and a few snowflakes swished around your fingers. When you used your snow powers, you could feel the other lights of the Infinity Stones pulsing through you. Cautiously, you pulled on some of the energy from the Mind Stone. Instantly, your snowflakes shifted into glowing sparkles of blue lights. The light flowed around your fingers and glinted on your hand. The light sent hues of blue sparkling off in several directions.

You then closed your hand and leaned your head back onto the arm of the chair, hoping desperately that there wasn't a spider. If there was, there would be no saving you and you would have no choice but to permanently freeze all of your hair in an ice cube.

You were just about to drift off when your stomach suddenly decided to make itself known. You groaned grumpily as you realized that you hadn't had much to eat that day.

You slid off of the couch and slouched over to the kitchen. You pulled out some bread to make a sandwich, but just as you open the fridge, you suddenly sense that someone had entered the room. Whether it was because of your power or just intuition, you didn't know.

You quickly turn around to see Bucky leaning against the door frame into the common area. He looks much different from when you last saw him. He looks haggard as though he hadn't slept in days, and his face is shinning with sweat. His breathing is incredibly quick, and his eyes dart around the room.

"Are you okay?" you ask worriedly, leaving the fridge and taking a few steps towards him.

He blinks rapidly, his shaky breathing giving you chills. "Uh…yeah," he says, running his hand down his face. He seems to gulp in air as though he has never breathed before in his life. "Um, I mean…I-" he trails off, looking at you desperately as though begging you to understand.

You suddenly realize that Bucky is in the middle of a panic attack. You take a step back in surprise, feeling your own chest tighten with worry. You have no idea what to do! How do you talk someone out of a panic attack? Should you use your powers? The idea of messing with his head is giving you the creeps.

"Um, okay," you say, walking closer. You hold out your hands in a calming gesture. The most problematic thing right now is his breathing. He is breathing so fast and hard that you are worried he might hyperventilate. "Um, just calm down," you say and then realize just how stupid that sounds. "Your breathing, I mean. Get a pattern. Breathe in for three, hold for three, out for three, hold for three," you coach, breathing with the time you set for him. You hold his eye contact, and he struggles to match your breathing.

You get closer and gently take his hand. He almost crushes your hand in his, but you try not to show any pain. You keep practicing him on breathing. But you need something else. He has to be doing something to distract himself. He has to gain control.

He seems to have calmed a little bit by doing the breathing exercises, but he is still shaking.

"We need to get you to do something," you say. "Something physical. Drawing?" you ask. Getting him to think about your question should help to.

He smiles softly and almost embarrassingly. "Well, um, whenever you would help me with a panic attack, I would…um," he stops for a moment, collecting his thoughts and swallowing thickly. He seems kind of disorientated. "We would…dance…"

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. "Dance!" you squeak before clearing your throat. "Dance?" you ask at a more audible level. "Like…together?"

A small laugh breaks through Bucky's panic, and he nods. "Usually swing or something," he says, panting heavily.

"Okay, well, come over here," you say, gently pulling him over to a clearer spot. "Hey, Jarvis, do you have a Swing Dance playlist for me?"

"Loading the Old Geezer Playlist," Jarvis says, and you close your eyes.

"Thank you, Jarvis," you say in annoyance. You then turn your attention back to Bucky. "I'm sorry, Bucky, but…I don't know how to dance."

Bucky blinks for a few seconds before a worn smile breaks out on his face. "That's all right. I'll teach you," he says. He takes a few steps ack, still holding your hands in his. Well, more crushing your hands.

He starts to move three steps to one side before sliding three steps to the other, carefully pulling you along. You step to the side, put your feet together, and step again before doing the process in reverse. Bucky softly talks you through it, and you can start to feel his death grip on your hands loosening into just a bone-crushing hold.

He starts counting, and you move your steps according to his until you have the steps down. Bucky then teaches you a few simple moves, one is what he calls a follows outside turn.

Next, Jarvis plays some music, which you recognize from the 1940s era. Bucky counts outloud and you step according to the beat. You only know a few moves, so Bucky sometimes surprises you with a sudden move that doesn't require you changing your steps too much. Over the course of three songs, Bucky's hands relax in yours. He know holds his hands out, the back of his hands facing you so that you can drape your fingers over his. It actually makes it easier for him to signal you when he is about to change things up a bit.

You can't help but blush every once in a while. You are guessing that the counting has helped him breathing, and you can see by the concentrated way he watches your feet that he has more control.

After a while, you are getting the hang of the dance. Though there is music in the background, you are both quiet. Bucky seems really tired and almost…embarrassed?

"Do…do you want to talk about it?" you ask quietly.

Bucky takes a deep breath. "Not really. I just thought that I would be over this junk," he growls lowly.

"Hey, you aren't sinking back, okay. You just had a bad day," you say. "That's all right. Without the bad days, you couldn't find the good ones. It's all right that you had a bad day. Don't blame yourself. Tomorrow will be better."

Bucky gives you a soft, timid smile. For being very sarcastic, funny, bit of a ladies-man kind of guy, he can be very shy.

You suddenly realize that you have stopped dancing, but you are still holding his hands. You are sure that your face lit up like a traffic light, and you gently pull your hands from his.

"So, feeling better?" you ask.

Bucky smiles. "A little."

"Hey, I have an idea," you say, grabbing his arm and tugging you behind him. "Let's watch a movie. Have you seen Rise of the Guardians?"

Bucky shakes his head. "No."

"It's good! We should watch it. It has some sad parts, but they get through it," you say. "Oh, and, um, thanks for dancing with me," you say. "That was really nice. Would you mind teaching me a little more later?"

Bucky looks you up and down a little more before answering. "Yes."

"Thanks," you say. While Bucky is super cute, you don't quite feel anything other than extreme fangirling. While you were happy that you could help him, and him teaching you to dance will help him later too, you also sort of feel like crawling under your bed and dying of terror! You don't really have 'feelings' for Bucky, but you can already tell that you will be a bubbling, red-faced fangirl of clumsiness!