"Chapter Nine"

"He did what?" Bruce asked, looking over the top of his glasses in amazement.

"You should've seen it," Clint said, demonstrating a couple of punches.

"There's film," Bucky said. "Outside. The cameras are not connected—"

"Yeah, but the police will have a copy, and that'll go onto a network," Tony said, already summoning screens. "JARVIS—"

"I have located the nearest police station to The Everything Diner."

"Great," Tony said, emphasising the 't'. "It'll be online in the quarter hour."

"Tony, you can't do that," Pepper admonished. "Phil will know you did it."

"Leaked police footage?"

"Yes. He's smart."

Tony shrugged. "The world should know how awesome he is," he said.

"And when Director Fury realises who's responsible?" Steve asked, and his lips quirked at the corners when Tony froze.

"Besides, you don't want civilians trying those sorts of stunts, do you?" Clint said. "And if it brings the diner heaps of business, will we ever be able to get back in?"

"That's selfish," Bucky said. "None of you have a problem with sending me to get food, so why would you be concerned with getting seats?"

"Well, he hasn't got that many people cooking with him," Natasha said. "He would need to take on additional staff, and I would need to begin supervising again."

"I can't…" Bucky shook his head, and looked to Sam and Steve for support. "It's an invasion of privacy. You hate it when people invade your privacy, Stark."

"Even though his life's an open book," Clint muttered.

"Fine, I won't release it," Tony said. "But I'm making a copy for us. I wanna see him in action, okay?"

"So do I," Steve said, and he shrugged when his boyfriend and Bucky looked at him. "It sounds like he did an amazing job, and I want to see it. Is that so bad?"

"S'pose not," Bucky said quietly, leaning back in the armchair with his arms crossed. "He was… incredible."

"He was, huh?" Darcy said. She gave him a teasing smile. "How'd it make you feel, seeing him beating up a couple of miscreants?"

"'Miscreants'?" Jane said, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey, I got that from your boyfriend, so you don't get to judge." Thor grinned.

"Anyway… aha! Here it is," Tony said, cuing up the video. The footage was pretty clear for an analogue recording, and they were able to see his expression of utter displeasure when confronted by the gunmen. Although Clint had already described the fight, it was another thing to see it for themselves, especially at such a good angle. He never faltered, and took the attempted-robbers down in under two minutes, from the time they confronted him to the moment the second guy was knocked to the ground. Phil all but dusted his hands off, a small smirk playing around his mouth.

"That. Was. Friggin'. Amazing," Darcy declared. "He should totally work for SHIELD or something."

"Or for us," Tony said.

"What would he do?" Clint asked. "Babysit us? Handle us? Liaise with Fury?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of Avengers' cook," he said. "It's my plan B."

"Plan B for what?" Bucky asked. They all looked at him, some more guiltily than others, and he frowned. "Plan B for what, Stark?"

"For getting free food, basically," Tony said.

"…What?"

"I figured if he was dating one of us, we'd get special treatment, maybe even free food," he explained.

"But… but we can afford it! You can afford it."

"Yeah, like Fury said. You can't deny, however, that being connected to him would have its benefits." Tony dismissed the screen while everyone else – minus Bucky and Sam – found somewhere else to look.

"Who… who were you going to set him up with?" Bucky asked, suddenly quieter.

"Who were… Who do you think, Barnes? Who d'you think we've been trying to set him up with all this time?"

Bucky stared, and swallowed. "Me? You were… with me?"

"Yes."

"I…" He looked away, and met Sam's concerned eyes. He looked down at his lap. "Why?"

"I've explained—"

"Why me?"

"Because you're the obvious choice."

Bucky tried not to think of the reasons he was an obvious choice. Such thoughts would lead him somewhere he didn't want to go.

"You realise," he said, "that if you brought him on as Avengers' chef, you'd have to pay him anyway, so you wouldn't be getting free food."

"Hmm." Tony tapped his lips. "But it'd be more convenient. And we'd get his breakfast, too. We'd get home-cooked meals from him all the time. I've seriously gotten hard thinking about this."

Bucky was out of his seat and gripping Tony by his shirt in three seconds. Sam stood behind him, and grabbed his shoulder.

"Calm down," he said. Tony just looked smug.

"Knew you liked him," he said.

"You didn't figure it out on your own," Natasha said. "Rhodes and I had to hit you over the head with a clue."

"Let him go, Bucky," Sam said. Slowly, Bucky released his grip, but he stayed where he was.

"You don't see Phil as a person," he said.

"What do you see him as?" Tony said.

"As a man. A great man, who looked after a homeless guy, brought him into his home and even offered him a key so I could come back anytime I needed to, and gave me food, and I… I…" He trailed off, and moved back a step. "I… won't let you use him. He's not an object you can bring out when you need it, and then toss it away after you're finished."

"Noted," Tony said, straightening his shirt. "But the match-making clearly failed, so it's up to plan B. Lewis, you said that Fury would get Phil to come over here anytime, right?"

"Not exactly what he said, but I can ask him again," she said. "I like him. He's badass."

Bucky didn't stick around for the rest of the conversation. With one final death stare at Tony, he left the room, and headed for the guest floor he was still using. He shared it with Sam, and it was just below Steve's floor.

Once there, he sank onto the edge of his bed and buried his head in his hands. He combed his fingers through his hair, some of the strands getting caught on the metal of his left hand. He shook off the small pinches, and tried not to scream his rage. He wanted Phil. Tony had been trying to force them into a relationship. If it'd worked, it would have been fake, so fake, and Bucky might've never found out.

And all because Tony— no, Stark – wanted the star treatment he already got. For God's sake, no one else got food to go from The Everything Diner. What more did he want? Bucky didn't have work yet, and he didn't like others paying for his food; but he'd accepted charity from Phil, and knew that it wasn't a bad thing. Yet it meant he didn't have anything to offer Phil. Couldn't buy him flowers or take him out on dates, even if the man was interested, which he wasn't. Even if he was, who would he be interested in? Sergeant Bucky Barnes, best friend of Captain America? Bucky, the honorary Avenger who was trying to claw back some semblance of a life after being used by the enemy to kill innocent people?

Or… just James? And who was the real James Buchanan Barnes, out of the three? Was there even a real James Buchanan Barnes? Would there ever be one?

He absently plucked the stray hairs from his metal hand, thinking about what it would be like to kiss Phil Coulson. Bucky hadn't kissed anyone in a long time. When was the last time he really kissed someone, and meant it? As in feelings-for-them meant it? He'd had a couple of crushes when he was younger, and liked chasing pretty skirts when he could. But he'd never really felt that connection with anyone, not long enough. Only a few hurried kisses between bomb shelters. And he'd never kissed a man before, not like that, not even to experiment.

He didn't want to start, either, unless it was with…

He exhaled forcefully, and laid back on the bright yellow quilt that made it hard to sleep unless he was dead on his feet.

Dead on his feet. An apt description for his time as HYDRA's pet snake.

Well, it was time to get some kind of employment. He needed to send Phil flowers of apology for Tony's behaviour. Maybe take them himself, and leave them on the doorstep, with a note to explain what had been happening. Then he could stop feeling so damn guilty about something out of his control.

"JARVIS?" he asked.

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes?" the AI replied. It was still unsettling to hear that voice, but he was getting used to it.

"Do I have enough money to be able to send flowers to Phil?" he said. "To apologise."

JARVIS sounded amused when he replied. "You have sufficient funds, sir."

"You know his address?"

"Of course."

"I guess… something that says I'm sorry. And with a note saying that they've been trying to set us up together, just so he knows why I'm apologising. And signed 'James'. Please?"

"I am placing an order now. Do you give me permission to access your bank account to withdraw the required payment?"

"Yeah," Bucky said, tucking his hands between his legs. "He should be home today."

"The transaction is complete," JARVIS said.

"Thank you."

That evening, Bucky roped Sam and Steve – and consequently Clint – into helping him negotiate the internet and find work. He put working for SHIELD as a 'maybe'; he wasn't sure whether he could go back to killing people again, so unless he could be a trainer… and even then, any potential triggers could have serious consequences… So it was only a 'maybe' for SHIELD.

He enjoyed helping the animal shelter, but there would be few paying jobs available in that line of work, and he always ran the risk of pinching someone's skin with his metal arm. He was strong; Clint suggested working in construction, but Bucky doubted that anyone would hire him.

"You won't know `til you try," he said.

"You'd be handling materials, not people," Sam said. "It could work."

"Do you really want to put a hammer in my hand?" Bucky asked.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Steve snapped. Bucky flinched back.

"I want t— I need to work," he said, before Steve could apologise.

"What did you do before you became a soldier?" Sam asked, touching Bucky's knee.

"There was a depression on. Work was hard to get."

"I understand."

Bucky rubbed his metal arm, cursing it. No matter how much Tony wanted to tinker with it, Sam had forbidden it; and after conferring with him, Dr. Banner also forbade it on medical grounds. Repairs could be made, but under supervision. What Bucky really wanted was just to get a prosthetic, or something at least coated with a protective covering. But he would have to learn how to use anything new. If only he wasn't so limited in his options. Perhaps… SHIELD really was the only option. Be a hired killer again, only killing the bad guys this time. It wouldn't cleanse his soul, but then it felt like nothing ever would. Natasha had spoken of washing the red out of her ledger. He knew how she felt, how Clint felt.

"What… would Director Fury want me to do?" he asked, making eye contact with Clint. The archer shrugged.

"You'd need to undergo another psych evaluation first," he said. "If you were going on the field, you'd initially be paired with a handler, and sent on test missions."

"And if I was to be a trainer instead?" Bucky said. "If a position as trainer was available. I'm sure there are many instructors, though."

"Yeah, but you're a legend, and a crack-shot," Clint said. "I was kind of a fan growing up. Not that I can really be a fanboy anymore." He grinned sheepishly. "Since I'm dating your best friend."

"You should definitely think about teaching," Sam said. He eyed Bucky slyly. "After all, the only person you want handling you is Phil Coulson."

Bucky surged to his feet, and stalked away. "You too?" he said. "Sam, I… I…"

"Hey, relax, man," Sam said, raising his hands in a placating gesturing. "Just teasing. Though you've gotta admit that he's head over heels for you."

"No, he isn't," Bucky muttered, but not softly enough. It nearly echoed in the quiet room.

"What do you mean?" Clint said, frowning at Bucky. "He's not been exactly subtle."

"He changed his work days because of me," Bucky said.

"Maybe he didn't want you to work it out," Steve said. "That he's in love with you."

"He isn't… he… he isn't. He can't be."

"Dude, the guy's in love," Clint said. "With you. He may as well have a flashing neon sign over his head saying it. We all saw him when he saw you again, before he knew who you were. That smile he had… and all those times we've made you go to get food? We've all seen how he is, and how you look at him."

"And you told me all about how he fed you, and offered you a place to stay," Sam said gently. "Why won't you give it a chance, Bucky?"

"I… I have nothing to offer him."

"Is that why you're looking for a job?" Steve said, cocking his head. Sometimes he was eerily perceptive.

"Partly," Bucky said. "It's for practical purposes, too. But I can't see him… wanting me. James, Bucky, Sergeant Barnes. Any of me. No one would—" He cut himself off, clamping his mouth shut.

"Yeah, he really would," Clint said. "Think about it, Bucky. Every interaction you've had with him. Picture it. See what the rest of us have seen."

Bucky tried. He did. From the first time Phil gave him food, through offering to let him stay the night, take a key. He thought about the first time he saw Phil again after so long, unsure of how he would be received, and subsequent meals at The Everything Diner. To each time Bucky was sent to buy food for the team, and Phil's unnecessary concern the day the truck was nearly robbed. Every look he'd been given, the tone of Phil's voice, every hitch in his breath when Bucky was too near, his gestures, the way he had been so kind to a complete stranger, shown such trust in a man who claimed to be on the run from everyone… and he saw…

"JARVIS?" Bucky said evenly.

"Sergeant Barnes?"

"Did you send a note with the flowers, saying that I was sorry?"

"Yes, sir."

He swore, vehemently, in Russian. Then he grabbed his coat, stuffed his feet into boots, and his wallet into the pocket of his coat.

"Bucky, where are you going?" Steve asked.

"To make this right."

Next chapter… heck. I was gonna have Tony offering to make Phil the Avengers' chef, in this chapter. I'll have to shove something like that into the last chapter. As I write this, I have yet to decide just how smutty I shall make the final chapter.

Please review! Too late to vote, since the story will be finished before I begin posting. My author notes are more stream-of-consciousness when I write them. It's after the edits that things are a bit clearer. And occasionally I don't even bother to edit out my streams (almost typed 'screams'… how appropriate) of consciousness, just for my own amusement, and hopefully yours, dear readers.