Author's note: Slight mention of drug overdose, but nothing too major.

Summary: Bucky's at a very low point in his life, but it's okay b/c he has friends like Steve and Natasha to help him.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"

"WELL OBVIOUSLY NOT! WEREN'T YOU JUST AT THE HOSPITAL WITH ME?!"

"DON'T GET SMART WITH ME JAMES!"

Doors slammed all throughout the apartment while Clint hung back and took cover in his bathroom. He was so not getting involved with this. Besides, usually Nat's the one who deals with Bucky and that's a hot mess right there.

"JAMES YOU CANNOT JUST SHUT ME OUT LIKE THAT!"

"THAT'S WHY THERE ARE THESE THINGS CALLED LOCKS NATASHA!"

Another door slammed, more shouting, etc., etc. Clint sighed and went back to Trivia Crack. His friend Kate was currently beating him 5-4, and he was determined to get this damn science question but science was never his strongpoint in school.

The bathroom door suddenly opened with a fuming Nat in the doorway.

"So how'd it go?" He asked a little too cheerfully from his perch on the toilet seat. At her questioning eyebrow he raised his phone and showed her the game screen.

"Kate winning again?"

"Can you at least pretend to have some faith in me?"

Her eyebrow still remained raised and judgmental as ever.

"Dare I ask about Bucky?"

The transition her face made from sarcastic amusement to just plain scary was impressive.

"Maaaaaaybe not?"

"UGH!" She tugged at her hair and kicked the door shut with some crazy kick and spin thing. Clint didn't even flinch, that's how normal it was for him.

"Can you believe him?! I mean can you honestly believe him?! God I just wanna rip his brains out and see if there's actually anything useful up there!" She started pacing around their tiny bathroom in frustration.

"Did you guys talk about it at all or just scream and yell?" Clint asked his phone screen. He flicked the wheel and watched it spin and land on the science character. Damn.

When he glanced back up.. he may have shrunk back a little.

The stormy look on Nat's face did in fact almost make him wet his pants. See most people would be intimidated, but Clint? Maybe just a smidge. But he's already dedicated his life to this woman and marriage is totally an option. In reality though, Nat will probably end up beating him to the punch and proposing first.

"Seriously. Have you guys actually sat down and talked about this?" How many bones are in the human body? FINALLY a science question he can actually answer.

"Of course we have," she scoffed.

"Tasha. Screaming in the car and then slamming doors does not count." A history question next. Score!

"It is talking. It's just talking in really loud voices."

"Uh-huh." Which president couldn't fit in the bathtub? Clint's thumb wavered back and forth between Taft and TR. Nat leaned in and clicked on Taft.

"Yes! Screw you Kate!" He pumped his fist in the air which got a snort out of Nat. He cleared his throat in order to bring his attention back to the matter at hand. "Uh honey, you know not everyone who OD's have.. reasons. For OD-ing. Sometimes it just.. happens. You can't assume everyone who does it is suicidal. Bucky may have just done it on accident."

She gave him an 'are you fucking serious' look. "Do you even know James at all? He's got serious PTSD you really wanna say it was an accident?"

"I'm not saying that. But you need to sit down and have a niiiiiiiice conversation with him. Maybe over some tea and biscuits and shit I don't know. But no shouting, seriously."

"I'm sure the Jacobson's next door can handle it," she deadpanned. She sat on the edge of the bathtub and groaned into her hands.

Clint chuckled and ruffled her hair, an action only reserved for Clint and Bucky. Anyone else and their hand would have been decapitated by now. As he played with the curls in her hair he heard a door open and then slam shut again.

Nat peeked an eye out. "Tell me he didn't just leave." At Clint's grimace she groaned again.

"You could probably still catch up to him if you tried."

Nat held his gaze for a while. After a moment she finally stood up and quickly walked out of the bathroom. Clint sighed and only hoped those two wouldn't start WWIII and destroy their apartment building.

His phone vibrated with a 'get a move on grandpa' text from Kate.

Nat did eventually catch up to Bucky 10 minutes later. He was sitting at a diner with his hood on and gripping his left arm like it was a gun. Which made sense because his eyes wouldn't stop darting around the diner (even if there were maybe 5 people total) and chose a booth with a strategic view of the place. She could see his face calculating every possible exit and entry point and how many people he could take down by himself and potential weapons he could use.

She slid into the booth with ease. Bucky scowled at her and hid his face further within his hoodie.

"Can we talk?"

"Didn't we just do that earlier?" He fidgeted in his seat.

Natasha almost wanted to agree but, as Clint said, yelling did not constitute as talking. Or even loud talking.

"I was hoping we could have a more civil conversation." She picked up Bucky's menu and started perusing the items.

"Get the key lime pie, I had that the last time," he mumbled and took another glance around.

She hummed thoughtfully. "I think the pumpkin cheesecake might be good."

"Trust me when I say get the key lime, it's magical," he said while lifting his head up a bit.

For the first time, Natasha actually got a good look at his face when they weren't screaming and slamming doors. A lot of dark bags under his eyes, cheeks too hallow, wrists a little too skinny, and he looked (and smelled!) like he hadn't showered in days. Overall he just looked terrible and she's surprised he didn't get arrested yet.

"I almost got kicked out of the diner," Bucky said. He raised an eyebrow at her staring.

"Really?" She said as nonchalantly as possible.

"They almost had to call the owner, but luckily one of the guys noticed me as a regular and convinced them to let me stay."

She feigned disinterest and went back to perusing the menu. She felt him kick her leg under the table and kicked him right back.

"OW!" He yelped and bumped his knee against the table, making it jostle.

"What?"

He hissed at his probably bruised leg and glared at her. "I told you, get the key lime pie."

"If I die from food poisoning I'm blaming you, Barnes."

"Fine. Better for me then."

They sat in silence while Natasha ordered. James would lightly kick her every now and then but she decided to indulge him a little. Besides, she didn't bruise that easily.

"So, are we gonna talk about this?" She asked.

"I thought we were talking." He did another glance around the place.

She rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

Another beat of silence. She almost considered kicking him but then saw the look in his eyes as he stared out the window. He just looked so… done. And tired and sick of everything but most of all? Just sick of living.

It scared the everliving crap out of her because the James before never would have been like this.

"I am such a piece of shit." He turned toward her and frowned.

"James—"

"I am. I am such a piece of shit and I don't know what I'm doing with my life."

"Maybe instead of being a piece of shit you could get your shit together?"

"Har. Har." He rolled his eyes at her stupid joke. He straightened up once he saw how serious she was.

"I'm dead serious. You think you're a piece of shit? Then do something you shithead."

"Such as?"

"How 'bout getting real actual help? Going to therapy? Attending your VA meetings?"

He made a sound between a whine and a helpless animal kind of noise… thing. Natasha proceeded to look extremely unimpressed.

"That's kinda.. hard to do," he mumbled and looked away ashamedly.

"It's not hard. It's just challenging," she said quietly.

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Technically, no. It's not hard, anyone can do it. But it's challenging because some don't always have the motivation or people to push them to do things. So yes, there is a difference."

He snorted. "Know it all."

"Just because I'm smarter doesn't make me a bad person."

This actually gets a laugh out of James. He smiles and kicks her again. "Thanks. For being that person to.. push me and stuff."

"Anytime." And she meant it too. James is her best friend, and if he EVER did something this stupid again she would probably kill him before the drugs could. It's her job after all.

"There's nothing wrong with feeling sad," she makes sure to add. "I mean sure, it's not the best option but you just got back from a war. You're allowed to be sad and lonely. Just don't… don't do that again, okay?" Her voice falters towards the end.

James' face practically falls apart and he reaches over to grab her hand. He holds it tightly and looks her straight in the eye. "Natasha. I would never—I will never do that. Again. That was stupid, I shouldn't have done that. And thank you for picking me up from the hospital and signing my papers and shit. If my family knew about this they'd be throwing me an intervention or whatever. So thank you. I would never try to hurt you intentionally I just—"

"I know." She rubs her nose with her sleeve and squeezes his hand. "I know. Just don't do it again."

"I won't," he says with all honesty.

*Present day*

"Hey, Buck?" Steve calls out tentatively. He shuffles over and sits down carefully so he doesn't disturb Bucky's sleeping position on the couch.

Bucky opens one eye under his mess of hair and that's the only acknowledgement Steve gets from him.

"Do you want anything?" He reaches out but then stops himself and pretends to scratch his head instead. Last time he tried touching Bucky, he was pretty sure he had to get Bucky's spare gun out of his bedroom. That's how scary it was.

Bucky makes some muffled response. He rolls over so he's face-first into the couch and his hair sticks up in all directions. Again, Steve is very tempted to tousle his hair but he'd rather not get caught in a choke-hold with a bionic arm.

So far, it's Steve: -10000 and bionic arm: 20.

"Bucky," Steve tries again. "You sure you don't—"

"Yes, Steve I'm fine," Bucky snaps. He lifts his head up to reveal tired eyes and a worn out face.

Steve bites his lip and tries not to look hurt. He knows this isn't Bucky, he knows he's just exhausted and his PTSD is getting to him. Steve's been through the same thing, so he knows what it's like. Still doesn't make it any easier though.

Bucky lies back down again and buries his face in a pillow.

"Um, Bucky—"

"WHAT, Steve?!" Bucky whips his head up and glares. "What, for the love of God, do you want Steve?"

Steve stills but doesn't let this stop him. "Look, I-I know today is a sucky day and all, but if you need anything I'm here—"

"Yes, Steve I got that from the 500 other times you told me that." Bucky's voice starts rising and Steve almost regrets this.

"Bucky, come on—"

"I don't need your freakin pity words, okay Steve?" He tugs at his hair frustratedly.

"Bucky—"

"Would you shut up?"

"I—"

"No, seriously you need to shut up now I—"

"NO! STOP BEING A PIECE OF SHIT YOU.. YOU.. YOU SHITHEAD! STOP PUSHING ME AWAY AND LET ME HELP YOU YOU GODDAMN PIECE OF SHIT!"

The only noises are Steve's heavy breathing. His face has gone completely red and splotchy and his eyes are on fire. Bucky has to sit back a little because he wasn't expecting such an outburst. He never knew the day would come when Steve would lose his patience like that.

Steve sucks in a deep breath and exhales slowly. The red on his face is starting to go down until he's back at his original skin color. "Look. I get it, I do. You don't think I haven't been in this position before? It sucks, it feels like crap and honestly sometimes all I wanna do is curl up in a ball and die. But I can't, because that would mean giving into the crap that consumes me. I am trying to help you here Buck, because God knows you need it. So don't you dare push me away like that."

"You called me a piece of shit," Bucky blurts out.

"What does that have to do with anything—"

"You called me a shithead." Bucky looks slightly awed by this. He bites his lip to stop the smile threatening to take over.

"I.. I don't get it," Steve says confused. Was this supposed to mean something?

"Thanks." Bucky gives an apologetic smile and offers his left palm.

Steve eyes it before slowly slipping his fingers into Bucky's and folding his hand over his.

"Um, you're welcome. Although I'm not sure I know what I did."

"'S okay. You don't have to." Bucky has that secretive smile on his face again. But hey, Steve isn't complaining if this is what it takes to make Bucky feel better.

"And sorry," he adds, "for… pushing you away. I shouldn't have done that, you're right. Especially when you're trying to help me."

The red returns to Steve's face full force and he swallows thickly. "I-It's okay. Just.. doing my job. That's all."

"I know, I know." Bucky squeezes Steve's hand and continues staring at him.

Steve feels like he won the lottery, although he's not sure how exactly.

Bucky feels lucky enough to have such similar-minded friends.