Stark makes good on his promise and his handler's new bed arrives within a few days. The Asset can't help feeling a little proud as he looks it over and helps his handler transfer it into his room. His handler doesn't seem upset with his decision to tell Stark about his problem and no punishment follows his actions. (Although at this point, he almost thinks he'd be more surprised if he did get punished, rather than not.)
Still, he doesn't think it appropriate to inform the rest of the Avengers of his handler's issue when they gather together a few days later, his handler gone again to his doctor's appointment. Nobody else seems concerned by how frequently his handler goes to the doctor, but he can't help the anxiety that crawls around in his stomach as he cautiously sits down in the living room with the others. Surely if something is truly wrong with his handler, then the rest of the team wouldn't be so relaxed right now, so he probably doesn't need to worry.
That doesn't exactly stop him though.
"Okay," Stark speaks up, rubbing his hands together and calling the room to attention. "We have about an hour before Cap gets back and about a week and a half until his birthday, any ideas?"
In his seat on the couch across from Stark the Asset feels his eyes widen and his breath stall in his chest – out of surprise instead of the usual fear. He'd forgotten about his handler's birthday. Actually, he'd forgotten about birthdays in general until a few seconds ago but now that Stark had mentioned it he's suddenly intimately aware that a birthday is something to be celebrated and he has no idea how to do that.
"He probably won't want something over-the-top," Romanoff speaks up first, crossing one leg over her knee and folding her arms.
Stark nods. "Yeah, and fireworks are a no-go," he says decisively and the Asset scans him briefly, wondering a little at the decision.
"Can't we just do what we did last year?" Banner asks from his place next to Wilson. "Have a dinner and play games or something?"
Stark hums for a moment and folds his arms. "That should work," he says finally before looking up. "Clint, you're in charge of board games."
A startled look of surprise flashes over Barton's face before he smiles. "Perfect," he says before Natasha nudges him.
"Have at least one safe game," she says with a raised eyebrow and Barton sputters.
"Are we getting him presents?" Wilson asks over Barton's defensive protests. The room quiets as he speaks, and everyone looks thoughtful again.
"We got him art supplies last year," Clint says after a moment, flopping back. "So, we probably can't do that again."
"Who says?" Stark cuts in, leaning forward and waving his hand. "I could get him like, a Monet or something—"
"No," Romanoff says flatly. "That's too big. We're trying not to go overboard, remember?"
"Yeah." Barton sits up. "And besides, if you do that then we'll have to top that next year."
Stark huffs and leans back, shrugging his shoulder and gesturing to the group. "Well, what do you think then? Steve has like, zero hobbies." The Asset's brow furls at that because the concept feels wrong to him, but he doesn't know why. His mind flashes back to the disturbingly blank walls of his handler's room and he presses his lips together.
"Bucky said he likes cats," Barton speaks up, and suddenly all eyes turn to him. The Asset tenses at the attention and tries not to cringe away.
"What, really?" Stark leans forward intrigued. "I always thought he'd be the golden retriever type."
His hands migrate together in his lap and he ducks his head. "Too big," he mumbles. Dogs had been too big and needed too much exercise for their Brooklyn apartment. Of course, they couldn't have a cat either because Steve was allergic so—
"We're not getting him a cat," Romanoff says pointedly to Stark.
"Give me a little credit here," Stark protests, waving his hand. "I was thinking cat pjs or a coffee mug or something."
"That works for a nice side gift," Wilson says, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning forward. "But do we have any ideas for anything more personal?"
Silence falls again and the Asset racks his brain along with everyone else. For some reason he feels like he should have an idea of what to get his handler for his birthday, although he can't exactly remember ever having done that before—
—he swings his legs eagerly, grinning at Steve as they both wait as patiently as possible for his Ma to bring over the cake. Music plays quietly in the background, filling the room with a festive spirit and soon Ma Rogers steps over to the table, a plate held carefully in her hands—
He blinks, a feeling of left-over excitement settling in his chest as he comes out of the malfunction/memory. Given the context, he's pretty sure that one had been about a birthday party with his handler when they had been younger. He narrows his eyes as he analyses it, the Avenger's discussion about his handler's favorite books fading into the background as he searches the snippet for any clues as to what his handler might like now. He hadn't seen any presents but—
His head snaps up and his eyes widen as he mentally tallies all of his handler's possessions. He's pretty sure he doesn't have that—
"Bucky? Did you think of something?"
His eyes dart to Dr Banner and he shrinks down again slightly, suddenly becoming aware of how animated he'd been as all the Avengers turn to look at him again.
"Yeah, you probably know him the best out of all of us," Barton says, leaning forward and the Asset's brow furls slightly at that. Something about that feels… wrong. Maybe he had known his handler, and maybe they had worked together before, but he hardly remembers him right now. Shouldn't his handler's current teammates know him better?
He doesn't know how to express all that in words though, and besides, it hardly seems relevant to the matter at hand, namely, the reason why everyone is staring at him. He swallows uneasily and darts his eyes down, his idea now feeling ridiculous.
"Did you have something, Bucky?" Wilson asks gently and the Asset's eyes jump up to him before glancing away again.
"Records," he rasps, the word feeling foreign in his mouth. A hazy half-solid image of some sort of machine rises in his mind and he's fairly certain that that had been the source of the music in his most recent malfunction/memory but the whole thing remains shrouded in confusion. He knows what records are, he does, it's just— the knowledge sits tantalizing on the edge of his brain, elusive, so that he can only get a vague impression of what he's talking about.
Thankfully the Avengers seem to know, and seem to like the suggestion.
"Of course." Stark sits back, his shoulders dropping. "He doesn't have a record player already, does he JARVIS?"
"He does not, Sir." JARVIS replies. "He has however made a playlist of favourite songs."
Grins spread over the faces of the team and Stark rubs his hands together. "Perfect," he says. "Let's hear it."
Over the next half an hour, the Avengers listen to snatches of various songs and debate which ones to find in record form. Romanoff insists that they do not simply gift him the whole playlist and Banner suggests choosing a few from the late 40s or early 50s that Handler-Steve may not have heard.
That decided, the Avengers disband, each going their separate ways so as to not arouse suspicion from his handler when he comes back. For his part, the Asset does his best to act normal as he follows his handler back to his room, but the plans sit under his skin like an electrifying itch, something fluttery and excited settling in his chest as he scans his handler.
He's never had a secret like this before. This, he knows he won't get in trouble for and the days before his handler's birthday suddenly seem unbearably long. With how affected he is, he's a little worried that he might inadvertently reveal something to his handler, but thankfully Handler-Steve heads into his room shortly after coming back, closing his door properly for probably the first time since the Asset had arrived.
The closed door is a little strange, but the Asset tries not to worry about it too much, instead looking around the room and picturing where they will place the record player that Stark had ordered. It might fit better in his handler's room, but if they wanted to have it out in the open then there is a spot between the bookshelf and the window that might work.
His eyes catch on said bookshelf and he finds himself approaching it, running one finger over the spines lining the shelf. He can vaguely remember the Avengers discussing his handler's favourite books and he can't help being curious about them. Banner had taken him to the library of few times, but he usually focuses on reading the non-fiction books, figuring the outing is a good opportunity to study and prepare for any upcoming missions.
He had mostly ignored the fiction sections. Reading about computer programs seems more important than flipping through a mystery or fantasy novel but… besides a few history textbooks, his handler's bookshelves are mostly filled with fictional tales and he can still vaguely remember his handler inviting him to read the books on the shelf. He scans the shelves again and wonders if reading less practical books would be okay.
The title of one book in particular seems to tug at him and he pulls it out slowly, letting it lay flat in his hand as he looks over the title. The Hobbit, it proclaims, and he rubs a thumb over the worn paper. His handler has obviously read this book many times, although he'd never seen him do so—
—Steve sits with his head bent over the book, his knees drawn up and his shoulders hunched as he squints at the page. The light in the apartment is warm but dim, and he scoffs slightly as he watches Steve strain his eyes. His eyes are weak as it is, making reading a labour of love sometimes, but that is never enough to stop him, no matter how much of an effort reading becomes.
Eventually Steve's furled brow becomes too much and he can't watch anymore. "Here," he says finally, setting down the newspaper he hadn't been reading and holding out his hand. "Let me read it."
Steve looks up and scowls slightly. "I can do it," he says. "It's fine."
He huffs. "Yeah I know," he says, stepping forward to swipe the book up from Steve's hand and settling down across from him. He shuffles a little to get comfortable and scans the open page. Steve rolls his eyes and sits back, crossing his arms, the faintest hint of a smile on his face.
He starts at the top of the page. "'Where did you go to, if I may ask?' said Thorin to Gandalf as they rode along. 'To look ahead,' said he."
Steve settles back and relaxes, the golden light of the lamp casting gentle shadows on his face.
"'And what brought you back in the nick of time?'
Looking behind,' said he." —
A warm feeling unfolds in his chest and it's only a sound from his handler's room that prompts him to return the book to the shelf. He's not confident enough yet to try reading it now, but… obviously he had in the past and… and it probably wouldn't be such a big deal if he did so now.
oOo
The week until his handler's birthday passes agonisingly slowly and the Asset catches multiple conspiratorial looks passing between the Avengers as they wait for the day to finally arrive. Normally, seeing such looks would make him fear for his handler's authority and maybe prompt him to report the offending agents. He has no such urge now, especially since doing so would ruin the surprise, and they're already too close to the fateful date to let that sort of thing happen.
Finally it's the night before the Fourth and the Avengers all seem drawn to the common room, a slight undertone of excitement hanging in the air as they wait for tomorrow to come. It's nice to see how much everyone seems to care about his handler and how much they want to make tomorrow special for him.
Of course, Handler-Steve manages to one-up them a little on that.
It starts when the Asset leaves the common room to head to bed. JARVIS informs him that his handler is already in his room preparing to sleep, so he isn't surprised not to see him in the living room when he arrives. He is surprised though, when he comes to find a new addition sitting on top of his dresser.
So far, his handler has actually left his dresser alone, not bothering to perform surprise inspections or even touch it most days, but now, a framed picture sits prominently on top, the simple black lines of the frame doing nothing but enhancing the image within. He glances over to his handler's room and he finds the door mostly closed, nothing but a few inches of space keeping it open, and he turns back to his dresser, stepping forward to better examine the picture.
It's of him, like with the pictures he'd seen in his handler's notebook, except this one shows his metal arm, the segments gleaming dimly in the sun as he gazes out the common room window. His mouth opens soundlessly as he reaches up to grab the picture, pulling it closer to him and staring.
His eyes dart up to his handler's room once more as the magnitude of what he has, becomes apparent. His handler had… his handler had given him something. Something for him to keep, something made especially for him and— judging from the fact that his handler had given it to him silently, almost anonymously— it's unlikely that his handler expects anything in return.
He sets the picture back down carefully and rubs his thumb against the glass, tracing the relaxed lines of his face in the image. His mind flashes back to the empty pages of his handler's sketchbook and something in his shoulders relaxes as he realises that some of those pages must be full now.
Stark had said that Handler-Steve doesn't have many hobbies, so it's probably a good thing that he's actively pursuing this one.
The next morning, his handler takes them up to the common room for breakfast and both Banner and Stark are already there when they arrive. They exchange a chorus of happy birthdays before his handler gets to work on preparing their morning meal and Banner moves to pour hot water into his mug.
"Thank you for the picture," he says quietly, and his handler ducks his head, a faint smile on his lips.
Behind them, Stark sits up, looking far more awake than before. "You got one too?" He asks, his eyes darting back and forth between the two men. Banner nods and Stark breaks out into a smile. "Aw man, you should have seen how excited the bots were this morning," he says, barely avoiding spilling his coffee as he gestures.
"Your robots saw it?" Banner questions and Stark nods.
"Yeah, it was just in the workshop–" He gets cut off as the elevator dings open and reveals both Barton and Romanoff, their hair damp after their morning workout.
"What was what?" Barton asks as he goes over to rummage through the pantry.
"Steve's picture," Stark informs him, studiously ignoring the growing blush on his handler's face. "It was in the workshop, DUM-E and U are enamoured. I think I'll have to hang it up in there."
"Wait, did we all get one?" Barton turns around to look. "Mine was by my bow. Nat said she got one in her room."
"That's where mine was too," Banner cuts in and Stark looks up to Handler-Steve.
"That just leaves Sam," he says.
Throughout the whole conversation, Handler-Steve had been determinedly making oatmeal, a pleased blush steadily growing on his face. "I put it in his gym locker," he mumbles moving over to ladle the oatmeal into two bowls.
Stark whoops and Barton looks up at the ceiling. "JARVIS where's Wilson?"
"Sam is still asleep," JARVIS replies (and the Asset swears the AI is still slightly miffed that Wilson had requested to be addressed without his title.)
"Well, wake him up," Stark insists, pushing away from the table. "Tell him to get moving, we've got some art to appreciate."
"Tony—" his handler tries, only to be cut off by JARVIS' dry 'Very well.'
"Ooh!" Barton sets down a mug he'd managed to acquire and looks over at Stark. "You should see mine, it looks so cool–" By the end of his sentence he's already half-way to the elevator and he throws a glance over his shoulder. "Nat do you want me to get yours too?"
Romanoff's mouth twitches upwards as she nods her ascent and Stark lurches up to follow Barton into the elevator, an argument already half-formed as to who should get dropped off first.
Banner chuckles and gets up, setting his tea aside. "I guess it's show-and-tell," he muses. "I think I'll take the stairs though."
"You don't have to if you don't want to," his handler says earnestly as he comes over with the bowls, his blush fading slightly now that Stark and Barton have left.
Banner shakes his head and smiles easily. "I don't mind," he says, getting up to head towards the stairway. "It's really very good."
His handler's head ducks again, a pleased smile on his lips as he hands off one of the bowls and the Asset feels his own mouth twitch upwards slightly as he grabs a spoon. His handler had obviously scattered the team's pictures around in places they would find and be able to personally admire. He might have thought he could get away with it quietly, but obviously the team isn't having that.
Barton, Banner, and Stark arrive back soon enough, and they've only just made it to the main counter when the elevator dings open again and emits a slightly groggy Wilson, a framed picture clutched to his chest.
"JARVIS woke me and gave me a cryptic message about working out," he says as he joins the rest of them at the counter and gently sets his picture down. "I assume this is what he was talking about?"
He gives his handler a warm smile and the Asset lets his gaze drift over the images laid out. His handler really had done a great job with all of them and it's obvious that he'd taken a lot of time to get the separate pieces just right. In every scene the subject is relaxed — Wilson concentrating while cooking, Stark with his bots, Barton in the park, Romanoff painting her nails and Banner reading — they're all peaceful optimistic pieces and the Asset can see why everyone is so taken with them.
He has a sudden overwhelming urge to get up and go get his picture. To bring it in and show them how his handler had drawn him as well, to share with them the joy that it had brought and to show his handler how much he appreciates it.
He stays in his seat and grinds his teeth in frustration because he's pretty sure nothing bad would happen if he were to get up and go to his room. He's pretty sure that nobody would get mad, or even blink twice if he did that, in fact, they might even approve, but he still can't get up.
He can't do it.
"Did Steve make you one too?" He blinks and looks over to were Dr Banner is smiling gently at him, tea once again in hand.
He swallows and nods, ducking slightly behind his hair. "-t's good," he manages to mumble, and his handler's smile almost makes up for everything else.
oOo
The rest of the day stays relatively calm (although the Asset can't help feeling like he's about to burst waiting for the hour of the party. He's supposed to be good at waiting, but this is a whole new experience.) Finally, around dinnertime, Stark gathers everyone together in the living room for food and presents. A civilian named Pepper joins them as well, and her unexpected presence is a little off-putting, but Stark seems to trust her, and JARVIS obviously had deemed her to be non-threatening, so he lets it go.
"I got Chinese," Stark tells them as they begin dishing up. "I thought about fancy catering, but, you know, everyone needs the full fake-Chinese-food experience."
His handler smiles at that and proceeds to hand the Asset an empty plate. "With this style of buffet, you go along and pick what you like," he says as the Asset stares at him. "I've never had any of this either, so your judgement is as good as mine."
With that his handler leaves him to pick out his own food.
He stares down at the many dishes and watches as his handler samples various items out of several of them, his mind still reeling. So far in his stay here in the tower— actually, so far ever, besides the one time cooking with Sam— he's never had a choice in his own food. His handlers always feed him, and while Handler-Steve may feed him better than his other handlers, he still always feeds him.
But, apparently not today. The Asset blinks and breathes in, taking in the smells of the food around him. Maybe it won't be so bad, picking his food for himself. There are so many options available, his handler wouldn't possibly be able to pick everything he might want, and of course he'd never dream of asking for it if his handler didn't offer it first so…
So now at least he can make sure that everything on his plate is something he wants. He moves forward and begins examining the spread. Stark seems to have been right when he'd called it fake-Chinese-food, he's pretty sure he's had a few missions in China, but he doesn't recognise most of what's on the table. (Not that he'd actually eaten Chinese food, but he'd seen it.)
He decides to first grab one of the plastic bowls of soup. He's still easing into solid food, so it's probably a good idea to eat some liquids, outside of that though… he grabs a little bit of everything. A few pieces of some sort of meat covered in sauce, rice, some noodles, a different type of noodles, a green vegetable—broccoli his brain supplies— bread balls of some sort, something fried… There are so many options that he thoroughly fills his plate.
He knows he'll be able to eat it all thanks to his serum, but it still feels weird choosing all this food for himself. Nobody else seems to find it weird though, so he tries not to worry about it too much. After getting food, everyone congregates by the couches and sits down while Barton introduces the game of the night.
"It's called Telestrations," he explains, placing a blue and white box on the coffee table in the middle of the couches. "Basically, it's Pictionary combined with Telephone," he says as he opens is and pulls out a box of cards, several coil-bound notebooks, cloths and markers and a timer. Neither of the games Barton mentions rings any bells, but thankfully the archer continues to explain.
"So, what you do," he starts as he grabs one of the notebooks (they seem to be made out of plastic instead of paper, which is a little odd.) "You grab a card and choose a word on it." He demonstrates. "And then write the word down on the "Secret word" space at the front," he shows them the blank line at the front of the booklet.
"Does it matter what word?" Stark asks around a mouthful of rice. "There's a lot of words on that card."
"It doesn't matter," Barton assures. "Just pick whatever you think you can draw. You'll soon find you were wrong anyway." He flips the page with the 'secret word' over to a blank one. "So next step is to draw your word within the time given," he says. "Then," he flips the page to one marked 'Guess'. "You pass the notebook to the left, and they try to guess what you drew."
He flips to the next page to show a new blank page. "Then, they pass it and the next person has to draw what was guessed." He grins at them. "At the end of the round, you get to see how badly your word got transformed."
He grabs one of the cloths and begins wiping off his notebook. "If you have no idea what they drew, just describe literally everything you see, even if it's 'six lines and a triangle. Also, no words on your drawings," he explains as he stands up and begins passing out the rest of the notebooks. "This game is good because there's enough for everyone here," he says as he holds one out to the Asset.
He takes it instinctively, his mind a little numb with shock as he realises he's about to be included in the festivities. He hadn't been expecting that, he actually would have been less surprised if they had skipped over him all together, but then again… the Avengers are a strange bunch.
Nobody else seems surprised that he's included, so he accepts a marker and a card, silently hoping that he won't mess the game up for everyone. He's never had to play a game like this on any of his missions, so he's not quite sure what to expect.
"Alright, everyone write down your word, and then we'll get started," Barton tells them and the Asset quickly scans his card, searching for something he recognises and can conceivably draw. Most of the words mean nothing to him but he does see one that reads 'shampoo', so he writes that one down.
"Alright, ready?" Barton asks as everyone flips over to the drawing page. Barton flips over the timer. "Go!"
Instantly he realises that drawing with a marker is a lot harder than it seems. The tip of the pen is fatter than he's used to, and it runs along the plastic smoother than he's expecting, making his picture turn out sloppier than he plans. He doesn't seem to be the only one having troubles though, judging from the grumbles around him, so he decides it isn't a big deal, focusing harder on just finishing his picture in time.
He draws a bottle first before realising that further context is probably needed. He adds a rudimentary tub and showerhead. His pen slips as he adds a stick figure and jets of water, but he doesn't have time to fix anything because Barton is busy counting down the time. At the last second, he adds an arrow pointing towards the bottle before finally flipping the page and handing it over to Banner on his left.
Wilson is on his right and he picks up the notebook left for him, flipping back to try to make out the picture left behind. His brow furls and he brings it in closer, as though that will help make out the scribbles in front of him.
"Steve, your art skills are just not fair for this game," Romanoff mumbles from her position on Handler-Steve's left.
"Barton makes up for him," Wilson reports, his eyes narrowed as he tries to make out whatever Barton had handed him.
Barton chuckles and shakes his head, flipping over the page in his notebook and passing it along. "When you're done, I'll set the timer," he says.
The Asset looks back down at his picture, his stomach clenching as he tries to figure out what it is. It's some sort of vehicle, that much he can see, and judging from its lack of windows, it's some sort of van. His eyes pick up on the 'plus' symbol on its side and he realises suddenly that it must be some sort of emergency vehicle.
Ambulance, he thinks, before flipping over to the guessing page and trying to remember how to spell the word. He gets it eventually and hands off his notebook to Banner.
"Alright," Barton reaches for the timer. "So, flip back to read the guess and draw that."
The timer flips and silence falls as everyone works on deciphering and sketching out their next word. Surfboarding, his word reads, and he stares at it, trying to guess what it could mean.
"Banner, you're handwriting sucks," Stark speaks up abruptly, scowling down at his own book. Banner smiles and shakes his head, his pen already gliding smoothly along his page.
"I was a doctor," he reminds them, amusement colouring his voice.
The Asset shakes his head and turns back to his own word. Surfboard… surf… surf… surfing? He blinks and sits up. He knows that word. He can't begin to guess where he got it from, but he knows it involves boards and water, so that's good enough. He spends the rest of the time trying to hash out the best surfboard scene he can, before handing off his notebook again.
The game continues like that until their notebooks have gone all the way around the circle and everyone has their original book again. "Okay," Barton holds his book up. "Now we flip through our books and share our words." He flips his open to reveal the secret word. "Mine was 'Spaghetti'."
Beside him Wilson sits up and scoffs. "No, it wasn't man," he says disbelievingly. "Show them what I had to guess from."
Barton complies with a grin and flips the page to reveal three vaguely wavy lines floating over a half-circle, accompanied by three dots. "So, I can't draw," he says, a grin on his face, as Wilson loudly explains that he'd assumed the wavy lines were water.
Barton flips through the rest of his book (the last guess had been desert island) and Wilson begins going through his. His original word had been ambulance, and the Asset feels slightly proud that he'd been able to guess it, considering how he hadn't even been sure how to spell it.
Next, it's his turn and he feels suddenly tense as all eyes turn to him and he flips open his book. "Shampoo," he says simply, showing his picture.
"Oh no," Pepper says suddenly, a hand coming up to her mouth as her eyes widen and she glances towards Handler-Steve, a faint blush on her cheeks. "I know what that one is." Stark gives her a curious glance and the Asset eyes her for a second before flipping to Banner's guess. He'd gotten it right at least, although his handwriting is rather unintelligible.
"I'll have you know, I figured it out," Stark says proudly as the Asset flips over to reveals Stark's picture. It's rather similar to his own, except for the numbers '1' and '2' over the bottles, an arrow pointing to the number one.
"Okay," Pepper speaks up before he can flip the page, the colour in her cheeks deepening. "Just so you know, I didn't know the numbers were related to the bottles."
The Asset blinks at her and flips the page to see her guess. 'Peeing in the shower,' it reads, and the room burst out laughing. Pepper groans and covers her face as Stark throws an arm around her shoulder, a wide smile on his face.
"All I could think of was going number one," she mumbles, into her hands. "I had to give that to Steve,"
"Yeah, well I had to draw it," Handler-Steve cuts in, his face bright with laughter. "Needless to say, I kept that one a stick figure."
Next to him, Romanoff snorts and mutters something about 'never in her wildest dreams'. The Asset ducks his head as he fights against a smile and flips through the remainder of his booklet, his word morphing into thunderstorm by the end of it. The rest of the Avengers share their own books, each one of their words going off the rails somewhere along the lines. The highlight of the night though, has to be when Barton's terrible drawing manages to turn the word 'corset' into 'three-armed pregnant lady'.
"I didn't know the extra lines were strings," Wilson exclaims as the group dissolves into laughter. "I just saw a stick figure with weird bumps and three arms, what else was it supposed to be?"
"Wow," Stark wipes his eyes with one hand. "If the fate of the world rested on Barton's drawing skills, we'd all die."
Barton huffs and grins good naturedly before the game eventually wraps up and Stark stands up to deliver Steve his presents. It's late into the evening by now, and JARVIS blacks-out the windows as night falls, giving the room a more intimate feel as Stark wheels in a large box on a trolly with two smaller boxes on top of it.
"Oh, Tony," his handler starts as he catches sight of the large gift. "You didn't have to—"
"Ah! Shh," Stark insists, holding up his hand and waving it dismissively. "It's your birthday, I can get you what I want, also, this was Barnes' idea so, no take backs." His handler's eyes widen as he glances towards him and the Asset feels a small sense of satisfaction as he closes his mouth and makes no further protest as Stark wheels the presents closer to him.
"We all helped pick them out, of course," Stark explains as Handler-Steve pulls the smallest box towards himself. "But Barnes is the one who gave us the idea." He looks up and catches the Asset's eye for a second and gives him the very faintest flash of a smile before focusing back on Handler-Steve.
The first box is a blue coffee mug with a cartoon rainbow cat on it. Barton spends a good several minutes explaining the context to the cat (apparently it's a popular cultural reference) before his handler reaches for the next present.
He breaks through the tape of the next small box and the Asset feels a sudden rush of nerves as he opens it, worried beyond belief that his handler might not like his present. Stark had made it very clear that the whole thing had been his idea, so if anything goes wrong then his handler will know who to blame—
His handler's face goes slack as he pulls open the flaps of the box, and the rest of the team leans forward in their seats as he begins to reverently flip through the collections of records he'd been given.
"We chose a few you probably don't know too," Stark rambles on as his handler admires the gift. "Also, did you know that bands still make records today? You can find almost any song you want…"
His handler eventually moves on to open the big box and a smile breaks out on his face as he sees the record player. "Thank you," he breathes, his hands ghosting over the buttons. His head darts up, and he smiles at each of the Avengers in turn, and this time, when he gets to him, the Asset can't help smiling back, his chest swelling with pride over his handler's reaction to the gift.
His handler's smile only widens.
oOo
After his handler's birthday, they move the record player into his rooms, nestling it into the corner the Asset had already spied between the bookshelf and the window. Now, at night, when he's busy writing down his malfunction/memories or dreams, he gets to lean back against the wood of the record player and think about how his malfunction/memory had help get it there.
His training continues with the Avengers and he falls into a pattern of activity. If hardly feels strange anymore to be occupied all the time, and he can hardly remember what it felt like to stand without orders and stare blankly at nothing. With the Avengers, there's always something going on.
One morning, a few weeks after his handler's birthday, the Avengers congregate in the common room for lunch, Wilson and Banner doing the honours, when JARVIS interrupts them.
"Incoming call Sir," he says. "It seems to be urgent."
The team's lighthearted chatter ceases and Stark sits up straight from his spot by the counter. "Put it through JARVIS," he says, his brow furling slightly with worry.
The muffled noise of wind on a speaker fills the room for a second before an unfamiliar voice speaks up. "Umm, hi. I'm Darcy," the voice says. "You probably don't know me, but I work with Jane." There's a muted sound of a man speaking in the background and Darcy's voice fades for a second as she responds before coming back to the phone. "Anyway, she works with Thor and, well, I think they need your help."
AN: We have now moved on to new content! I hope you enjoy. Have you figured out what's happening next?
Also, I loved Steve's birthday. I'll have you know that every Telestration scene is a true incident from my family's own games. (We had to give the 'peeing in the shower' one to my grandma and 'three-armed pregnant lady' was my guess because my Aunt CANNOT draw. XD)
But anyway, Bucky made a lot of progress in this chapter, and they got to admire Steve's art!
