I do not own anything which would make me MARVEL, as I am not, in fact, Marvel. (I have no idea which of those spellings is correct.)

Important note: I would like to take this opportunity to address the fact that from this chapter on (some of you might have picked up on it already) it will become increasingly obvious that Claire has been through some bad things before in her life. I would just like to reassure you all that this is not an abuse story, and whatever she has been through, it is not to do with major physical or any kind of sexual abuse. Answers to what have happened will come later on and if anyone is worried about potential triggers, I will be more than happy to answer questions in pms. Thank you for your attention.

TapTap

Bucky really, really, really, did not want to have this conversation. He knew that it was no longer the forties, and the world had changed, but some things were the same. The stakes might be lower in some perspectives, but this could still be a talk which could ruin absolutely everything. Unfortunately, he had avoided Steve since breakfast, not to mention that he had wanted to talk for days now. If he didn't cave soon, he would ruin things anyway. So with some regret and deep resignation, James Buchanan Barnes sat down alone, letting himself be caught. He did not look forward to this.

Just as he had expected, it took less than fifteen minutes before Steve entered the room, freshly showered enough for his hair to be slightly damp. He looked gorgeous, and so damned tempting.

With everything he had gone through since becoming the winter soldier, Bucky had completely let go of all the silly preconceived notions of their age: but beyond that they had hugged an awful lot since he'd been back, he didn't truly know what Steve thought of all of that. It was beyond possible, he supposed, that Steve had just been being friendly, taking care of him in turn. He sure hoped not.

"Bucky?" Steve sounded nervous, which was both a good and a bad thing. Bucky never wanted to see his best friend (and more, hopefully. Please?) in pain, but at the same time, his nerves were a little encouraging. It meant the stakes were high for him as well, surely? Then again, maybe Steve was just afraid for their friendship... oh this was torture.

The medical appointment was set for in four days time. Pepper was sure that with some dedication, she could have gotten one sooner, but she really did not want to. Four days meant more time when this was just fanciful imaginings, the result of an ill-advised internet search, when everything was still normal. She felt a little sick, that was all. Alright, she felt very sick, but until she got any sort of medical opinion, it could all just be the flu. Actually, that was probably it. Ludicrous, worrying like this, truly...

Except, she did not really believe that, and this meant four extra days of Natasha looking at her, knowing she was lying about something. With a deep, tired sigh, the pale Pepper Potts reached out a hand which was only lightly shaking, and picked up her phone to try and get an earlier appointment. One more evening avoiding her girlfriend's questions was just about all she could take.

Dialling the number to her doctor, she could only hope that she could get some answers, and that she would be able to live with them. She tried not to understand, that she might not have to.

Claire looked on at the heart-wrenching sight for all of a minute before she decided she had to do something about this. Dumm-E was rolling around Tony's workshop beeping sadly, all the while returning to the sink where Tony had poured out the coffee his bot had made for him.

The master engineer had gone up to the lab with Bruce to work on something, but she had stayed behind. "Dumm-E?" Gently, the young engineer patted the hurt bot on the grip claw, attempting to explain. "Tony likes your coffee, Dumm-E, you know that. Better than anyone else's. But engine oil is toxic to humans, just like mixing rust in something for you would hurt you." The bot seemed to shudder, bent its grip claw down and, if possible, seemed even more disheartened.

"Would you like me to help you?" She offered. "We could easily clean the coffee pot out, you know. And I could show you how to make coffee for him without adding the engine oil. Would you like that?" The bot's "head" came up at that, but it gave another sad succession of beeps in reply.

"Oh, don't worry," Claire assured the bot, not knowing herself how she could understand the sentiment of the nonsensical sounds so easily, but she did, "humans can smell oil pretty well, and Jarvis can tell, too. Tony didn't drink it, I am sure he is just fine. Come on, let's go clean up some oil coffee!"

Claire couldn't help smiling widely as this made the bot race across the floor with new-found enthusiasm and sheer energy. This was going to be fun.

So it was that Bruce and Tony entered the workshop an hour or so after leaving, greeted by the sight of Dumm-E making coffee in a newly cleaned out pot, assisted by a laughing engineer who had powder that must be ground coffee beans in her long, loose hair.

"You know I like you, Steve," Bucky answered his friend's question, only to cringe internally at how bad it sounded. Wow, Barnes, he thought sarcastically. Real smooth!

"I... had rather thought it was more than that," he could see Steve cringe lightly, "that you felt more than that."

Something about Steve's sheepish expression was just impossible to resist, and Bucky nodded, staring at a speck on the wall somewhat to the right of Steve's left ear. "Yeah," he admitted. "I do."

He finally looked over to meet Steve's eyes, seeing his eyes lit with something warm, only to be greeted with a smile as Steve saw him finally looking at him. "It is for me too. More," he admitted easily, though still apparently full of nerves. It was Bucky who took the next step forward, gently Eskimo kissing his best friend. He felt the tension go out of Steve's shoulders in a moment.

And, just like that; that was that. It was one of the biggest anti-climaxes in Bucky's entire life. He didn't even stop smiling forty-five minutes later, when Natasha broke up their lazy cuddling and occasional kissing session by tossing a pillow at them, hard. Turns out, sometimes things were just as simple as they could feel like, cooking together early in the morning.