Sleep didn't come to him those first few nights in the tower. He found himself sitting at the long couch in his living area instead of trying to sleep, a small glass of something of varying strength in his hand and his feet propped loosely on the table as his eyes roved slowly over the thousands of lights flickering below. The city was garishly beautiful, and the steady stream of headlights filtering in and out of the roads like cells down a vein numbed his mind into an almost meditative state. It became a ritual of his to grab his glass and start counting the lights until his eyes crossed and he just couldn't think anymore. Memories were constantly pushing on the edges of his mind, but he kept them at bay with a slowly strengthening will and a long night by that window.

By the third night, however, he was restless.

Steve had stopped in for both of the days, sitting with him by the bookcase and sharing news and history and stories in snippets. He kept the conversations light and easily changeable, and Bucky had never been more grateful for a friend like him in his entire life. The daylight would pass easily into nighttime, and Steve would show him how to use the complicated appliances in his kitchen to create a halfway decent meal. He'd spoken to Jarvis several times as well, and it irked Bucky slightly that the AI was present in his room too. The feeling of constantly being watched did little to help his insomnia.

He still had yet to see hide nor hair of Tony Stark. Steve was increasingly agitated that the man hadn't appeared yet, and his constant questions of his whereabouts to Jarvis always yielded the same answer: he was in the labs of the lower levels and wished not to be disturbed.

Bucky couldn't shake the feeling he was being avoided somehow.

He didn't really mind much.

He really wasn't in much of a meet and greet sort of mood. Honestly, he wasn't really in much of an anything mood. He still felt oddly empty, and the shadows swirling around the edges of his mind threatened to crash back over him at any second.

This particular night, Bucky did not sit at his couch to watch the lights dim and glow. He found his feet itching to move, and before he had truly decided on what he was doing, he had slipped out of his room and padded silently down the hallway towards the elevator. The heels of his sweatpants brushed the cold tile floors with a light swishing noise, and he couldn't quite keep from shivering as the chill of the hallway seeped into his thin tee shirt. The joint between his skin and the metal of his arm ached something fierce, but he had learned to ignore it at some point in his new lifetime. He didn't dare think when.

He found the elevator with little incident, and as he stepped up to the door, it swished open for him. Stepping inside softly and blinking at the harshness of the lights, he watched as the doors swiveled shut. It was a long moment before he remembered how the elevator operated. He had just opened his mouth when Jarvis spoke, his tone low and, if Bucky didn't know any better, slightly encouraging.

"Which floor would you like, Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky coughed to cover his embarrassment before speaking. "Ah, main floor." He tacked on a belated "please" as the elevator began to move. When Jarvis spoke again, he didn't miss the tinge of amusement in the AI's tone.

"Of course, sir."

The doors opened on a seemingly empty floor, and Bucky stepped out with an awkward "thanks." The feeling of being monitored didn't leave him, and he didn't doubt that Steve had asked Jarvis to keep an eye on him. He knew they wouldn't just let him move around on his own without supervision.

Like a criminal.

He brushed the thought off as he stepped further into the room, his eyes roaming over the furniture and the screens slowly. There wasn't really a reason he had chosen to come here. He just wanted to wander a bit for a change in scenery, and the main entrance had been the first thing to pop to his mind when Jarvis had asked.

He had just started wondering what was down the hallway Sam had disappeared down just days before when the sense of being watched changed drastically.

This wasn't the feeling he got from Jarvis.

This was the feeling of living, physical eyes on his back.

He spun to face the kitchen, instinctively dropping into a defensive crouch. He had no sooner done so than a booming voice addressed him from over the bar.

"Who goes there?"

Bucky stared from his tense position at the owner of the voice. The man was standing in the kitchen and peering out at him with suspicion, something rectangular and obnoxiously pink held tightly in his hands. His long hair was loose over his shoulders, and the top of his head practically brushed the ceiling. The longer Bucky looked, the more outrageous he seemed. A flowing, scarlet cape was clasped to his shoulders, and an oddly fantasy-esque breastplate covered his chest. A matching helmet was set on the counter, and an enormous hunk of what looked like rock with a worn stick jutting out from the middle was haphazardly placed next to it.

Thor, something whispered in his mind. Steve had attempted to describe the team to him during one of his days in the hospital, and this man could not have been anyone other than the Asgardian himself. The realization did little to help him relax, and he tensed further as the god stepped out from behind the counter, the pink objects in his hands falling neatly onto a plate as he did so. Bucky couldn't quite stop himself from taking a step back as Thor strode towards him. He was looking increasingly hostile as he advanced with his hand reaching towards the bulky hammer on the counter, and Bucky was just starting to mentally berate himself for choosing this floor when he was rescued by Jarvis' smooth voice piping evenly into the room.

"That is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, master Thor. He is here under orders for recovery. Captain Rogers brought him in."

Thor stopped in his tracks, his gaze turning upwards in what was apparently the universally accepted location of Jarvis. When he looked back down to scrutinize Bucky in a new light, some sort of realization struck him, and a grin spread slowly across his face as his eyes widened marginally.

"Barnes? Yes, Barnes! Rogers has been searching for you for a long while, my friend. You've been most elusive! It is good to see you are at last well!"

The sudden 180 in his persona caught Bucky off guard, and it took him a long minute to unclench his muscles and stand straight to look the beaming god in the eye. He cleared his throat slightly, thanking Jarvis silently for the save as he responded with an awkward roll of his shoulders.

"Uh… thank you. It's…" He paused, trailing off lamely. "It's… good to be back."

The lackluster response didn't appear to dampen Thor's spirit, however, as he smiled even wider. "Well met, friend Barnes." He paused for a brief moment before striding even further forward with a speed that should have been impossible for a man his size. Bucky backpedaled as quickly as he could, but despite his efforts, Thor was standing right in front of him in seconds. The god looked down at him with an amicable grin as he spoke.

Shouted, was more like it.

"I am Thor, son of Odin. I am pleased to have met you, Barnes!"

He clapped a large hand onto Bucky's metal shoulder, and the force was enough to buckle his knees slightly with the boisterous introduction. He clenched his metal fist creakily, rolling the shoulder to reset the many layers of locked metal as best he could with a grimace. Thor's brow furrowed as he seemingly took his first notice of the glinting prosthetic. His eyes widened as he stared at the interlocking sheets of metal in earnest, genuine fascination on his face as they moved fluidly over one another.

"You are not unlike the Man of Metal, it appears. This is a truly incredible contraption!"

Bucky didn't say anything in response. He didn't trust himself to.

His arm was many things. Incredible was not one of them.

The Asgardian made his way back into the kitchen as he continued speaking, and he reclaimed the odd pink things from the plate with a gusto. "We must speak in full when you are recovered, friend Barnes. I am sure you have many valiant tales to be told if you are a comrade from Captain Roger's time."

Bucky found himself slowly easing onto a stool on the side of the bar despite himself, and he mentally started in shock at the movement. He really didn't want to discuss anything at two in the morning with an over enthused god in the middle of an elusive billionaire's kitchen, but he couldn't quite find it in himself to just go on his merry way. Something enticed him to sit, so sit he did.

He clasped his hands together as he rested his arms on the counter and leaned forward on the stool, a carefully neutral expression on his face.

"Yeah, well. I don't know about 'valiant', but I've got a few decent stories up my sleeve." He paused as Thor fumbled with the cord of what looked like a very complicated toaster, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. Bucky continued slowly, already regretting continuing the conversation as he awkwardly fumbled for words. "Have you… have you been here for a while? Steve didn't mention you were in the building."

Thor glanced up at him before returning to his wrestling with the plug, his booming voice lowered a notch as he spoke pleasantly. "Nay, I have only just arrived. You are the first to greet me. I will alert the others of my presence in the morn, as I am certain they are weary."

Bucky blinked, the words filtering through his brain sluggishly. He didn't doubt that if he had gotten more than ten collective minutes of sleep in the past three days, the Asgardian's flowery words wouldn't be so difficult to process. As it were, he sounded like he was speaking an entirely different language.

"Ah," he settled with for a response. "I'm… uh, not sure if any of the others are here, actually." He folded his arms, tucking his hands neatly against the insides of the opposite elbows and leaning against them on the counter as he watched Thor's increasing agitation with the toaster. The chill from his metal hand on the skin of his arm anchored him harshly, and he spoke as much to distract himself as to continue the stilted conversation. "You're the first of the team I've actually met-"

He stopped abruptly and raised a brow as Thor suddenly exploded with an odd sounding curse and tugged harshly on the plug, practically severing it from the cord. Against his better judgement, Bucky spoke dryly.

"What did the toaster ever do to you?"

Thor regarded him blankly, and Bucky pulled his mouth into a taught line, regret already seeping into his conscience. "It's a… it's a joke. Not a very good one apparently. But it… look, do you need help with that? What are you even trying to do?"

Thor held the cord aloft and swung it wildly, the frustration in his eyes positively comical as he growled. "The infernal line on this device refuses to yield! It is much too short to insert into it's proper place!" He gestured angrily at the power outlet in the wall. Bucky focused his attention duly on the cord to the toaster, his confusion dispersing as he saw the problem.

"It's retractable."

Thor stared at him for a long moment before beaming. "Bless you!"

Bucky blinked uncertainly at him for a long moment before shaking his head. This was by far one of the weirdest conversations he had ever had.

And that was saying something.

"Uh… excuse me?"

Thor simply continued smiling serenely as he made a loose gesture with his hand. "I have been informed that when one sneezes on this planet, it is customary to bless them."

Bucky stared at him, his face slack as he huffed out a short, stuttering laugh. So the big guy had a sense of humor. He shook his head, a grin slowly working it's way onto his face.

He was already starting to warm up to the god.

Reaching out his flesh hand with a questioning look and a deadpan "may I?", he gripped the cord from Thor's hand and pressed a button on the side of it's base, causing the length of wires and rubber to extend significantly.

"The cord is retractable. Steve showed me how to use the one upstairs, it's exactly the same."

When the plug was fully extended, he offered it back to Thor, who was looking on in awe. The Asgardian suddenly let loose a booming laugh.

"By the gods, you are truly an intelligent man, friend Barnes! I look forward to fighting alongside you one day!"

Bucky blanched slightly, but he resolutely ignored the sudden ice that had speared his heart and shrugged good naturedly. "If that's the case, then feel free to start calling me Bucky. I'll probably respond better to it than 'friend Barnes'." He paused at the look on Thor's face before continuing hesitantly. "And, uh, it's shorter."

Thor beamed at him as he popped the pink things into the toaster and shoved them down into the heating coils. "Friend Bucky it is!" The Asgardian appeared to have a sudden thought occur to him, and he rapidly glanced between the toaster and Bucky with a slowly falling expression. He sounded devastated when he spoke next. "But I have done wrong! Forgive me, friend Bucky!"

Bucky couldn't quite keep the amusement off of his face. The choice to wander tonight had been one of the best ones he'd made all week.

"And what exactly have you done wrong, 'friend Thor?'"

Thor apparently didn't notice the amused use of the title as he stared deploringly at Bucky. "I have not extended an invitation to you to partake in my meager meal. Please, do not think unkindly of me for my mistake."

Bucky couldn't help it.

He laughed.

The sound was still foreign to his own ears, but the feeling was just too damn good to stop. At the sight of Thor's stricken face, however, he reigned in his control and spluttered out the noise to respond. "I won't think 'unkindly' of you, Thor, don't worry. I'm fine, really." The relief that crossed Thor's face wasn't quick enough to appease him, so he hastily drew the god's attention away from the conversation by nodding to the slightly smoking toaster. "What are they, anyways?"

Thor looked slightly more mollified as he turned to his ministrations. "They are a Midgardian delicacy known as 'Pop-Tarts.'" He looked slightly sheepish as he looked back to Bucky. "I am afraid I have grown quite fond of them in the time I have spent here. They are truly delicious."

Bucky pulled is mouth into an understanding frown as he nodded resolutely. The smell filling the kitchen was sickeningly sweet and had a hint of burnt strawberries to it that had him wrinkling his nose. "Pop-Tarts, huh? What exactly are they?"

Thor was silent for a moment before shrugging lightly as the pink pastries jumped from the toaster, the edges slightly singed. "I am not certain, but they rival even the taste of ambrosia."

Bucky watched silently as the Asgardian tugged open the industrial sized refrigerator to snatch a small tub of something. When he opened it and produced a small knife from one of the millions of unnecessary drawers in the kitchen, Bucky belatedly realized it was butter. He watched as Thor carefully spread a pat of butter on each pastry before placing the tub back in the enormous fridge. Bucky found his eyes riveted on the melting butter, and suddenly, the smell didn't seem quite so repulsive to him. As Thor wandered back over to the counter, he glanced up from the steaming pastries.

"Uh… hey, listen…"

Thor glanced at him, his eyebrows raised as he waited for the man at the counter to continue. Bucky cleared his throat before gesturing to the pop tarts.

"Got any more of those?"

Bucky had never seen anyone smile quite as wide as Thor did that day.

It wasn't until several hours and five slightly burnt pop tarts later when he was seated on one of the many chairs in the living area with the Asgardian watching the sun rise over the city that he realized he had not once been plagued by his memories during the course of the night.

For the first time in a long time, he felt slightly more at peace with himself.