TW: Bucky has a flashback to 'the chair' in this chapter

The door was locked when Bucky arrived at the back of the gym. When he'd mentioned the time to Stone, he'd intended it as an invitation, a sort of test. If she stuck around to talk, if she opened up to him then maybe Sam was right and there was some potential there, something worth protecting. If she avoided him, well… He punched in the code and pulled the door open.

The hallway was dark but light spilled from the partially open doorway of the office and he could hear paper shuffling inside, then a pause and a soft snap.

"Sarge? That you?" Stone's words were followed by the click of a gun's safety being disengaged.

"Yeah, its just me, I'm at the back door, turning on the light." He flicked the switch beside him and spread his hands so she would see he held no weapons.

Stone's dark head popped through the doorframe to see him and a half second later she smiled slightly and waved him in, "You're right on time." The click and snap repeated in reverse order.

She was settling behind the desk again and Bucky stopped in the doorway, "you look better," he said, less gently than he'd intended. It was true, though her braided hair was escaping in little puffs that caught the light and she was still wearing the sweater he'd lent her in the morning with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, there was a healthy glow in her face and her eyes looked brighter and more alert than they had in the morning, and she was using her hands almost naturally now.

"Mm." Stone agreed, looking down at the papers she held. Long moments passed and Bucky waited, silent and still, simply watching as she jotted numbers down on a pad of paper, and then she lifted her head and seemed surprised to see him still standing there, "you're not here to workout? Ah. Right, the clothes," she shrugged apologetically, "I haven't washed everything yet, but I can drop them off tomorrow—"

"Keep them, I- I came to see you," Bucky said suddenly, seeing her surprise he added, "to see how you were doing, after…" and gesturing at the bandage on her wrist, "everything."

"Oh. Yeah, I'm good," Stone said, reflexively moving her left arm below the desk and out of view and not meeting his gaze, "right as rain in a day or two."

"Have you eaten yet?" Bucky asked, searching for a reason to stay.

"Just a bit ago actually, you?"

"Yeah, yeah, I… just wanted to make sure— that you have. Been eating, that is." Bucky mentally kicked himself, wishing he had said anything else more plausible.

"You can order delivery here if you're still hungry."

"Oh, no, I'm fine. I'll just go—" Bucky gestured in the direction of the gym and tried to smile but it came out feeling wooden and disjointed, "—get a few sets in." He was painfully aware of the fact Stone was watching him, head tilted, expressionless except for the slight crease between her eyebrows and he shifted his feet to dispel the tension.

"Maybe next time?" she said in a curious way, one that suggested she was just as surprised as he was to hear what she was saying, then she added even more cautiously, "we could eat- together, next time?"

Bucky managed a "mhm" of agreement and another wooden smile and took himself away before he could say anything disastrous to ruin the flimsy agreement they'd just made. He tried to roll the stiffness out of his shoulders but when he started laying into the weighted bag it came through a little more heavily than he intended and he heard the seams groaning. Easing up to prevent a rupture and a second even more awkward encounter, he moved into a series of kicks and punches, holding back just a little more of the raw energy he felt building up in the back of his skull.

Every conversation he'd planned went awry the moment he opened his mouth, still the result wasn't so bad. Nothing like the first several nearly deadly altercations they'd had before, it was uncomfortable and new and untested but she seemed willing to meet him half way despite his clumsy words. And still more hopeful had been the beginning, calling out to him before her weapon was readied, exposing her position to a possible enemy to prevent friendly fire. She saw him as an ally and not a threat.

He was not a threat. Not to her or Steve or Tony, not to anyone who held no malintent. He was James Bucky Barnes, not the winter soldier. He reminded himself of these foundational truths as he worked up a sweat, still keeping an ear out for the soft murmurs and shifting of papers in the office down the hall. And maybe, after all, he was capable of being a friend.

Late that night when he saw the light on in Tony's Lab and walked through the sliding glass doors, he thought it again. Tony whipped his head around from the engine on the lift and a wide toothy smile broke through his grease streaked face.

"Buckaroo, just the man I wanted to see, look here, I've rescued this beauty out of a rusting hunk of metal and…"

As Tony verbalized his excitement about his discovery and all the potential the engine in question could offer if it was just cleaned up a bit and tuned properly, and then moved on to vent his outrage at the neglect of the car that left the rest mostly unsalvageable; Bucky found a smile growing across his stubbled face. Maybe he should get his hair cut again, it'd been almost a year since the last time Steve took him to a barbershop and he'd been so anxious the short cut had come out choppy and rough looking and it had grown out even shaggier in that time.

"You know a decent Barber?" Bucky asked when Tony had finally run out of steam and they were settling in to eat through an aromatic spread of Thai food that made his stomach grumble loudly.

"Finally getting that shrub shaped up properly? Don't get me wrong, the long hair looked great on you, I could never, and I can do almost anything better than most, but there's a little bit that sticks out just over your ear that I want to singe off every time I see it."

"Yeah, I think its time I start figuring things out, but I don't know if I can sit in a chair like that again…" Bucky said, his voice fading away before he could elaborate.

...He could feel the cold steel on his face, the way the mouth guard pushed against his gums as the electric shocks began once again, the dispassionate face of the man wearing a mockery of a doctor's white coat, bending over him to ensure the electrodes were connected, the hum of the machine and over everything the smell of burning hair and antiseptic singeing into his nostrils with every violent breath...

Tony tapping the wooden chopsticks on the takeout box brought Bucky back into the present, he was looking carefully away from Bucky's face and humming something softly as if he hadn't noticed that Bucky had frozen, but there was a cold greenish hue to his hands as he gripped the items he held and when he finally looked up there was a mirror image of the thousand yard stare Bucky had so often seen before in his own face.

"I know a guy, he's not bad with scissors and, well, he's flexible about, well everything." Tony cleared his throat and said with a slightly hollow brightness, "no chairs, no mirrors, whatever you need, he can handle it. Here have some of these noodles, don't know what they put in this but I don't care as long as they keep em coming, Peppers been on me about carbs lately. Zucchini is fine as a vegetable I suppose, but it can't replace proper noodles."

"I'll pack an extra serving next lasagna day, and if I happen to store it in the lab fridge and it goes missing, no one has to know right?" Bucky answered lightly, glad to be back on level footing.

"And an extra garlic loaf? I love those."

"Of course."

They grinned at each other and without another mention of barbers or diets, tucked back into their food with renewed enthusiasm.

Notes:

Please let me know if my trigger warnings need improving, and of course, let me know what you think of the story!