[Bucky Barnes; R] I'll Be Home For Christmas: Chapter 2 Character/Series: Bucky Barnes, Cast; Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: R Notes: I need an excuse to bring in Sam more often. Title: I'll Be Home For Christmas- Chapter 2: The Idea Author:yuuo Word Count: 4447 Summary:Bucky scrolled through the contacts on Steve's phone.
Bucky scrolled through the contacts on Steve's phone; well, technically their phone. But nobody had reason to call Bucky without Steve needing to not know about it. Rather than mess around with a plan and phone he wouldn't use more than a few times a month at best, Bucky didn't bother getting his own.
"Steve, why do you have so many damn numbers in here?" he demanded. "Do you even know this many people?"
Steve glanced over from the kitchen, where he was chopping vegetables in preparation for their lunch. "Hm? Oh, a lot of those are organizations I work with. Why? Who're you looking for?"
"I'm trying to get ahold of Wilson," Bucky said. "Oh, here he is." He gave Steve a dirty look. "You organized these according to last name, when the contact shows by first name."
Steve frowned. "I keep meaning to fix that." He paused, setting his knife aside. "Why are you trying to contact Sam? You've barely said five words to him in the past two years."
"Got some questions for him, that's all," Bucky said a bit evasively, staring at Sam's contact in the phone. Steve was right, Bucky had barely said 'hi' to Sam before, and Sam was one of the few people still alive that Bucky had tried to kill as Hyrda's Winter Soldier. Didn't exactly make for a casual conversation.
"What about?" Steve asked, picking the knife back up and chopping the carrots.
"Nosy bastard, ain'tcha?" Bucky said, sitting down on the couch and grabbing his tablet off the table, pulling it out of sleep and studying the web page it was still open to, the phone now on his lap.
"You knew that," Steve said, completely unaffected by Bucky's entirely not serious jab. "Seriously, I know you don't necessarily want contact with him, I might be able to answer your questions instead."
Bucky looked over at him. "Unless you're familiar with the Va's programs for homeless vets, I doubt it."
Steve paused mid-chop, the knife thunking against the cutting board quietly. "You know someone?"
Bucky shook his head. "No. Ran into one in Lincoln while you and Natasha were grocery shopping, but no, not personally." He shrugged. "You have children's hospitals. I think I'll be more welcome helping in this area than with a bunch of kids."
"How'd you get back in if you left while we were gone?" Steve asked, resuming his work. "Natasha had the only key."
Bucky made a point of looking at the phone, the screen of which had gone idle, instead of at Steve. "I may have forgotten to lock the door."
"You forgot?"
"I was having a moment," Bucky said, dismissing the subject. He didn't feel like giving details, and Steve knew that 'having a moment' was usually translated to 'having a nervous breakdown and stopped thinking'.
Steve was silent for a few seconds, and Bucky heard the sounds of a knife scraping on the cutting board. "You usually lock yourself in the bathroom when you have those moments."
"Yeah, in my own bathroom, instead of a stranger's, who I don't want to catch me having one of those attacks," Bucky said. "I'm glad I was thinking well enough for that." He looked over. "And it gave me my crusade for the season. I might've hidden in our pretty gilded tower this year like I did last year otherwise."
Steve's back was to him, working at the stove with the vegetables he'd just finished chopping. "You could always join me at the hospitals. I don't think you'd be as unwelcome as you think you would be."
"Maybe some other year," Bucky said. "Give the shitfit over my past a chance to settle down." He gave Steve a sidelong look. "I think you're just trying to stir shit with that hospital that didn't want me around by trying to drag me around with you."
Steve chuckled, glancing back at him. "Maybe." Then he motioned with his spatula. "Make that call before I interrupt you with lunch."
Bucky made a face and looked back at the phone. He'd never precisely said sorry for trying to kill Sam beyond a mumbled and uncomfortable one-word apology when Steve first tried to introduce them. Sam was nice, always inquired about Bucky when he and Steve talked, according to Steve, but Steve had tried to acquaint them to each other too early in Bucky's recovery for it to stick. And now Bucky felt guilty about it.
Well, he needed the help from Sam, and now was as good a time as any to try that whole interpersonal relations thing again, if only for Steve's sake. So after setting the tablet down on his lap, he picked the phone back up and brought it back from idle and clicked send on the number.
The line rang twice before Sam answered with a "hey, what's up, Steve?"
Bucky took a breath. "It's not Steve."
The line went silent a moment. "I'll be goddamned. Never thought I'd hear your voice again."
"I wasn't going to be the one to say that," Sam said. "I guess you're not making a social call?"
"Not exactly," Bucky admitted. "You work for the VA."
"Is that a question or a statement?" Sam asked.
"Just confirming you haven't changed jobs."
"No, I haven't," Sam said. "Weird conversation opener, though. You looking into benefits or something?"
Bucky frowned, glancing over at Steve, who was pretending to not be paying attention, but Bucky knew him better than that. "No, nothing like that. I decided to make homelessness among vets my personal crusade for awhile. Either the Va's home page is shit, or it's useless as far as stats go. Not liking what I'm finding on other pages, though."
Sam made a conceding noise. "The VA doesn't like advertising its failures, no," he said. "Good cause to get behind, though. So whatcha need me for? I don't have access to any numbers on New York, just what I can get here in DC."
"I can get those myself," Bucky said. "Assuming I can get them to talk to me. Which is why I called you. I'm kind of persona non grata right now."
"A character reference, then," Sam said. "Yeah, man, I can give that, gimme a bit to find out who I need to talk to. But you do realize that they're not going to send you away, right? You're a war vet, and a former POW on top of it. No matter what else, the VA knows better than to shit on that. Especially when you're offering help with a problem that's been a thorn in their foot."
"Just get me in the door, Sam," Bucky said. "I can deal with them from there."
"If they give you problems, remind them you donated your back pay to them," Sam said. "Gimme a couple hours, I have a group coming in in about fifteen minutes. I'll call you once I've gotten in touch with your local office. You're in Manhattan, right?"
"That's right."
"I'll hit up the directory later, then," Sam said. "Anything else I can help you with? Steve need anything? Oh, tell him hi, by the way."
Bucky looked over at Steve. "Sam says 'hi'."
Steve looked away from the stove at Bucky. "Hi, Sam," he said, raising his voice a bit to be heard through the phone.
"So what else can I do to help a fellow vet out?" Sam asked, and Bucky could hear the grin in his voice.
Bucky chewed on the inside of his lip a moment. "Sorry for trying to kill you," he finally spat out. Not the best apology in the world, but at least it was genuine, rather than an awkward social nicety, like it was when they first met.
Sam laughed. "You still on that? Relax, I know that wasn't you. Steve was right, you were still in there. I liked being proven wrong."
Relief unknotted the lump in Bucky's stomach and he sighed. "It took awhile."
"I work with vets all the time," Sam said. "None of them have gone through even a fraction of what you have and it takes them awhile to work things out. I'd say you weren't human if it didn't take you some time. So. Now that you've decided to break the ice here, what do you want me to call you?"
"Everyone always asks me that," Bucky said. "Bucky's fine. I only go by James when I'm in trouble."
"Which is frequently," Steve said, once again loud enough to be heard over the phone.
"Can it, Rogers," Bucky said.
Sam laughed. "Good to finally hear what Steve's been talking about. Anyway, look, I've got group here soon, and I was in the middle of a gourmet bologna and cheese that I carefully prepared at home and brought in a little paper bag, so I gotta go. I'll call you later when I've contacted the local VA there."
"Thanks," Bucky said, then said goodbye and hung up. He looked over at Steve, trying to figure out what was for lunch by the smell. It smelled good, whatever it was. It also smelled like it might be Thai food, maybe Indian. It smelled spicy. "What're you cooking?"
"Pad Thai," Steve answered.
"Not with shrimp, I hope?"
Steve looked back at him. "Bucky. You're allergic to shellfish. Please explain to me why I would put shellfish in your food, knowing that?"
Bucky shrugged. "Just checking. You know, one of these days we should probably see if I actually am still allergic, or if that went away with about everything else."
Steve turned back to the food. "I'm not going to be the one to conduct that experiment, and you aren't either without Bruce there with a Benadryl shot to stick in your ass."
"Worry wart," Bucky said.
"And you have absolutely no room to speak," Steve said, sounding annoyed. "Or do we need to take a trip to before the serum? Or even a few months ago when I had that ear infection and you spent all day harassing me?"
"I did not," Bucky protested. "I let you sleep all day. The only fussing I did was to make you actually call Bruce for medical advice. I did nothing more than I was advised to do by the doctor. That doesn't constitute harassing you. You're just a whiny patient."
"I don't whine, Bucky," Steve said, sounding like he was sulking because he knew he was wrong but was protesting anyway.
"The hell you don't," Bucky said. "The very first thing you did that morning was to tell me to put you out of your misery. That's whining."
Steve didn't say anything in reply, which was concession for him.
Bucky decided to take his victory with grace. "Told you so."
"Keep it up, and you don't get lunch," Steve warned.
Bucky flashed him a toothy grin that Steve didn't see with his back to him. "You wouldn't starve me, you like me too much."
"Starve you, no," Steve said. "Make you make your own food, yes."
"You're making too much for just you," Bucky said. "Do you really think you'd stop me from taking what's left for myself?"
There was that silent concession again. Bucky couldn't help but take that one gracefully, too. "I didn't think so."
"Shut up, Bucky," Steve said grumpily, cracking eggs into their wok.
Bucky decided to be nice and change the subject. "So Tony gave us an easy gift to get him for Christmas."
"I'm already terrified to hear what it is," Steve said.
"He wants us to show up for his black tie charity ball this year," Bucky said. "He demanded custom suits."
"What?" Steve turned, looking back at Bucky, food momentarily forgotten. "When is this? Those take forever to get made."
"The nineteenth," Bucky said. "And that's what I told him, but he said there'd be time. The only thing I could argue with him for was so we would pay for our own damn suits. If it's a present to him, I don't think we should make him pay for the wrapping paper."
Steve snorted, turning back to the food that smelled almost done and about damn time, it was driving Bucky crazy. His stomach was starting to protest smelling food and not getting food. "Given how he likes throwing money at his friends, I'm surprised you managed that."
"It was actually easy," Bucky said. "I didn't think to get the name of a place that could make custom suits in time." He frowned. "Hey, JARVIS, where does Tony usually go for those things?"
"Mister Stark patronizes Tucci Clothiers," JARVIS said. "Stark Industries is its parent company. There is a location here in the building."
"Convenient," Bucky said. "Thanks, JARVIS."
"You are quite welcome, Mister Barnes."
Bucky huffed. "I wish Tony hadn't programmed you to be so damn formal. That's annoying."
"I am sorry, Mister Barnes," JARVIS said, sounding about as sorry as an AI actually could. "I cannot operate outside of the parameters of my programming."
"Eh." Bucky made the facial equivalent of a shrug. "I know what that's like. Just tell Tony I don't approve."
"I'm sure he will appreciate knowing that," JARVIS said. "I will pass along the message."
Bucky rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "You know, for not being able to be anything but formal, he sure is a smartass," he said to Steve.
Steve laughed. "He was programmed by one, you expected anything else?"
"Well, at first, yeah," Bucky said. "But then I got to know Tony and realized he had no damn charm. Not expecting anything else at this point."
"Come get food," Steve said, pulling out plates from the cupboard and setting them on the counter by the stove. "Tony's got charm, it's just peculiar charm."
Bucky walked over to the kitchen, grabbing one of the plates. He still wasn't used to thinking of them as theirs, they looked different from the plates they'd been using the last year and a half, and Bucky had gotten used to certain things being a stable point for him. Everything was all different now, and while it didn't upset him, it jarred him sometimes.
He'd get used to it.
"I'm not sure 'peculiar' is strong enough," he said, taking a generous helping of the food.
"I'm not sure 'asshole' is a strong enough word for you every time I let you dish up first," Steve grumbled. "Don't take it all, or next time I cook, you don't get any at all."
Bucky stopped and glared at Steve. "I am not taking it all," he said. "And you do this every damn time. Are we going to keep having this argument until we're old?"
Steve gave him a level sort of look that said that Bucky had just said something stupid. "Bucky, you'll be a hundred in a few years. I think we're past being 'old'."
Bucky grabbed a fork and stabbed his food pointedly. "Okay, fine, when we're wrinkly and grey, is that better?"
Steve laughed. "With our luck, that might be another hundred years," he said, pushing Bucky out of the way so he could get his food. "Go sit down, before you start eating standing up like a twenty-something college kid in his first tiny apartment. We have more class than that around here."
Bucky made a point of taking a bite before flipping Steve off and walking to the table. Once he'd managed to swallow, he gave Steve a flat look. "We have class? Since when? We're a couple of old bachelors who blow shit up for a living."
"Okay, so we have fun, but it's classy fun," Steve said, joining him. "At the very least, we have better manners than that."
"Oh god, please stop sounding like our mothers," Bucky said. "I got enough of it growing up, I don't need it now that I'm a senior citizen."
Rather than laughing and continuing to snark back, Steve studied him with a look that Bucky had grown to recognize the last year and a half, a look that said Bucky had said something that had thrown Steve off into the distant past, or into the unhappy, nebulous in-between that happened after Bucky died, until the night he'd shown up at Steve's apartment and ended up moving in.
And Bucky really hated that look. "Steve, please stop staring at me like that," he said.
Steve shook his head. "I was just thinking," he said.
"Yeah, I know," Bucky said. "And I have a pretty good idea about what, and stop it. You know I hate that."
Steve shoved around some Thai rice noodles with his fork, frowning in thought. "No, it wasn't really what you think. I just sometimes still have a moment when I'm reminded that I'm older than thirty. I'm not supposed to be older than that yet." He looked back up at Bucky. "So no, it wasn't just about you. Stop being so egocentric."
"Ooh, a five dollar word," Bucky said between bites. "Serious debate going on here." Then he pointed his fork at Steve. "And I never once said you were necessarily thinking about anything related to me, but that look means you're lost somewhere more than seventy years ago, and you really gotta stay in the modern day. Brooding doesn't become you."
"Says the man who has spent the last year and a half living in the past," Steve said.
"I'm a dirty hypocrite, you know that," Bucky said around a mouthful of food. "But seriously, don't do that. It sucks, and one of us should be more functional than that."
"Why does it have to be me?" Steve asked, and Bucky couldn't entirely tell how serious that was.
He chewed and swallowed before answering, mostly to buy himself a few precious seconds to think of the best way to answer that question. "In the name of not dickwaving trauma at each other, I guess it doesn't have to be."
"Then let me have my moments," Steve said, somewhat irritable.
Bucky stared down at his plate, then sighed. "Look, you don't have to ask permission," he said, looking up at Steve, who looked ridiculous with his fork in his mouth and a rice noodle sticking out. "I know I'm not the only one that needs a listening ear from time to time. I just would rather you not have to need one."
Steve didn't answer, too polite to talk with food in his mouth, unlike Bucky, until he finally swallowed. "You're too overprotective for my own good," he finally said.
"I'm the older brother, I'm supposed to be," Bucky said. "And you like to find shit to get into."
"Shut up and eat," Steve said, directly avoiding that accusation.
"Do you speak to Sharon like that?" Bucky gave him a shit-eating grin.
Steve returned that grin right back. "How I speak to Sharon is none of your business."
Bucky's smile softened. "I just hope my lessons sank in. According to Howard, you didn't know how to handle Peggy to save your life. I was disappointed in you."
"Trying to put lessons into practical application takes a bit of trial and error," Steve said.
"So how are things going with you and Sharon?" Bucky asked. "On the subject of you and women."
Steve shrugged. "We've only had a couple dates, it's kinda hard to judge on that." Then he got the same goofy grin he'd get when Bucky would ask about Peggy. "I don't think it's going badly, though. I haven't scared her off with my old-fashioned ways yet, at any rate."
"She probably likes you for those ways," Bucky said. "And good, it's about time you got a girl that deserves you. The dames I found weren't good enough. Sorry about that, by the way."
"You looked for different qualities than I wanted, that's all," Steve said.
Bucky made a guilty noise. "Still, I feel bad. I stopped being there to try, and you found a girl that you deserved. Not helping my batting average."
"Would it make you feel better if I start asking the female Avengers if they have any friends you can meet?" Steve asked with that horrible, bratty smile that he deserved to be smacked on the nose for.
Since Bucky didn't want to accidentally smack a forkful of food away from Steve's mouth by smacking his nose, he settled for kicking Steve's ankle under the table. "You're an asshole."
Steve laughed. "It was a genuine offer. I know you never really got a chance with Maggie, and with the news lately, it's going to be hard for awhile to find someone."
"Eh. I'll live. Right now, I have more important things to focus on." He glanced over at the cell phone. "Like willing time to speed up so I can get to work with the VA already."
"You know, you are the most amazing creature alive sometimes," Steve said. "You can be as patient as a rock on one thing, then as impatient as a toddler the next."
Bucky sighed. "I never did like the hurry up and wait part of things. I have something to do, but I can't do it yet. This isn't like setting up for a snipe, this is like sitting in the foxhole, wondering when the gunfire is going to start."
"How long did Sam say it was going to be?"
"Couple hours," Bucky said, finishing off his food. "He had a group coming in in a few minutes when I called."
Steve slid his empty plate over to Bucky. "Go do the kitchen, we'll go down to this Tucci place and get fitted while we wait for Sam. Might as well be productive while you're waiting."
"Better than sitting around here," Bucky agreed, grabbing their plates.
While Bucky started rinsing dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, Steve grabbed his laptop. "I should have Tony upgrade this," he said. "It's starting to get slow."
"He'll probably just build you a new one," Bucky said, glancing over.
Steve frowned. "I don't want it replaced, it still works fine, it's just a bit slow. That's wasteful."
"Electronics aren't built to last the way they were in our time, Steve," Bucky said, running some soapy water to clean the wok in. "Welcome to the modern world, fellow temporally-displaced friend who is baffled by the future."
"At least we can be baffled together," Steve said. "Okay, let's see what this Tucci place is like."
"Expensive," Bucky said helpfully.
"Thank you, Master Of The Obvious," Steve said, tapping away at his keyboard, then sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh, God, you were right about expensive."
Bucky paused, soapy wok and hands just centimeters from the stream of water for rinsing, and looked back at Steve. "How expensive?" he asked, wary of the answer.
"Standard fit suits? Over three thousand a shot, depending on size."
The wok clattered into the empty sink as Bucky set it down hard. "How much?" he said, voice cracking into a squeak of disbelief. "For one suit that we'll never wear again?"
"Brace yourself," Steve said, a look of horror on his face. "Custom fit is a thousand more."
"For one suit. One. Suit." Bucky shook his head. "Okay, JARVIS, how many times have I given up on modern society counting now?"
"Quite a few, Mister Barnes," JARVIS said. "Shall I inform Mister Stark you need assistance with the suits?"
Steve sighed. "No, JARVIS, we can afford it. We're just... we grew up before inflation got like this. It's a heart attack."
"Inflation has risen one thousand, five hundred and forty-four percent since nineteen forty," JARVIS said. "If it at all makes the price make more sense, that would be equivalent to two hundred and fifty-nine dollars in nineteen forty."
Bucky and Steve stared at each other for a minute, then they both nodded. "Better," they said.
"Thanks, JARVIS," Steve said, while Bucky picked the wok back up and rinsed it out before setting it in the dish drainer.
"You are quite welcome, sirs. Shall I inform the employees at Tucci Clothiers that you will be there momentarily?"
"What floor are they on?" Steve asked.
"Thirty-fourth floor, Captain," JARVIS said.
When Steve looked questioningly at him, Bucky drained the sink and grabbed a towel to dry off his hands. "We can go now," he said in answer to the unasked question.
Steve closed his laptop and set it aside. "Go ahead and give them warning, JARVIS," Steve said. "Thanks." Bucky finished drying his hands, then headed towards his room.
Steve stopped by the closet door next to the front door and stared at him. "Where're you going? Your shoes are right here."
Bucky gave him a dirty look and kicked out one bare foot pointedly. "I need socks."
Steve rolled his eyes. "Bucky, it's cold out, you should be wearing socks."
"I hate the feeling of socks on carpet," Bucky protested. "I don't tell you what to wear to be comfortable around here, don't tell me, Mother."
That just made Steve roll his eyes again. "Get your socks, Bucky. God, you're weird."
"No weirder than you," Bucky said over his shoulder, heading into his room. Once socks had been acquired and put on, he rejoined Steve in the entranceway and grabbed his boots.
"That's another thing we'll have to pick up," Steve said, watching Bucky pull on his boots. "Dress shoes. I don't think our Sunday Best are going to go well with a black tie suit. Tony might step on our toes for trying to get them to pass."
"Oh. Great. Shoe shopping. My favorite past time," Bucky said with a frustrated growl as he finished lacing his boots. "Because finding shoes in my size is so easy. Tony'd better be saying thank you for this gift we're giving him. I already hate it."
Steve laughed. "You'll survive. Trying to find shoes is hard for me, too. My feet used to be too small, now they're too big."
"Wasn't just your feet we had trouble shopping for," Bucky said, motioning to the door. "Lock up behind us, JARVIS."