[Bucky Barnes; R] I'll Be Home For Christmas: Chapter 8 Character/Series: Bucky Barnes, Cast; Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: R Notes: Yes, I snuck Spiderman canon in. Also, St. John's Children's Hospital is a fictional hospital that I named after my horrible, horrible old middle school; I didn't want to smear any real hospital. Title: I'll Be Home For Christmas- Chapter 8: Plans Author:yuuo Word Count: 5495 Summary:"It's a good thing I had you take the work phone."
"It's a good thing I had you take the work phone," Steve said once Bucky was home, out of his jacket and boots, and making himself another cup of hot cocoa to finish warming up from the chill outside.
"Oh?" Bucky leaned back against the counter by the stove, facing Steve to talk while the kettle heated.
"I got a call from The Daily Globe on our regular phone," Steve said, seated at the table. "They want to do a piece about my visits to the hospitals. I usually get bugged about it, they sent someone when I lived here before Loki and the Chitauri attacked here and I moved to DC."
Bucky glanced over at the kettle as it started to steam, but wasn't whistling quite yet. "I think I remember one of the DC papers doing that last year. They had you out twice, didn't they?"
The ice in Steve's glass of water clinked as he took a drink before answering. "Yeah, they wanted an interview before shadowing me at the hospital. I just made sure the interview wasn't at the apartment. I didn't want to drag attention to you that didn't need to be dragged in."
There was something in the way Steve said that that made Bucky tilt his head slightly. "And this year, the Daily Globe wants a pre-visit interview, too?"
"They do," Steve confirmed. "I can meet the reporter somewhere else. At this point, there's not much more attention you can be getting from the press, so I wasn't sure if you'd mind it here or not."
Bucky shrugged, then pulled out a mug and a packet of cocoa mix. "Here's fine," he said, prepping his mug while the kettle started whistling. "Who's the reporter?"
"Some woman named Jessica Soll?" Steve's voice didn't sound terribly confident in that. "There was a bit of static on their lines, so I might've misheard. It was a Jessica, though. She seemed excited to get to talk to me."
"Aren't most people?" Bucky asked, pouring the water. He filled it almost to the top, set the kettle aside, then dug the milk out of the fridge and added a splash to his cocoa. After returning the milk to the fridge, he grabbed a spoon and headed to the table. "Or did she seem moreso than most reporters?"
Steve shrugged modestly. "Maybe a little moreso. She acted professional, but there was a tone to her voice."
Bucky shook his head, taking a seat across from Steve. "So in other words, you have a fan that's coming to our apartment to interview you."
"It's no so bad having fans," Steve said. "You kinda get used to it."
"Mm." Bucky stirred his cocoa, letting the milk and chocolate powder mix and steam a little. "I'll let you do the getting used to thing."
Steve smiled. "You know, having and interacting with fans means more potential for dates."
Bucky scowled at him over his mug. "I'm not dating fangirls. That strikes me as a bad idea."
"Probably, but you sure aren't getting any dates the way you're going now."
Bucky's scowl did not lessen as he took a sip of his cocoa, then set the mug down, careful to not slam it down in annoyance and spill cocoa all over the place. "Steve, schedule that interview, instead of trying to find me a date."
"I'm multitasking," Steve said, grabbing his phone. "We don't have anything pressing before the nineteenth, do we?"
"Just our fittings on the fifteenth," Bucky said. "When are you planning on visiting the hospitals?"
"The twenty-first," Steve said. "And I'm only hitting three that day. The others said they were able to get other celebrities to come in. There's a lot of us here in New York, so plenty to go around. Which is good, there's a lot of children's hospitals and pediatric wards in town, it'd be hard for me to hit them all."
One corner of Bucky's lips quirked up. "And you'd try if you could. You're a bleeding heart, Steve."
"I don't want to hear it, Mister Rescues Kittens."
Bucky decided to not dignify that one. "So which places you going to?"
Steve thought for a second like he might be trying to remember. "Mount Sinai, St. John's, and the pediatric ward at Sloan Kettering."
"And which one of those is the one that didn't want you bringing me along?" Bucky asked. "Because I know you did what I told you and decided not to disappoint the kids."
Steve huffed in annoyance. "St. John's, and yes, you're right, I did, but you don't have to rub it in."
Bucky smiled smugly at him. "I do too. It's my job." He glanced up at their clock, the digital numbers reading ten forty-five. "Call that reporter, set up an interview. If she's got the time, make it this afternoon. The sooner it's over with, the sooner I can go back to not letting anyone in here that's not already part of the group." Then he looked back at Steve. "And after you're done with the phone, I need it. I need to call Peter, figure out when the hell he wants to come up here."
Steve pulled the phone out of his back pocket and handed it over to Bucky. "Here, call him first. I'm going to go look at our calendar, see when else that reporter might be able to come over if she can't this afternoon."
Bucky took the phone, staring at its display a moment while he recalled his brother's number, then tapped in the number and hit send. He waited through two rings before Peter's voice said "hello?" on the other end.
"Good morning, Petey boy," Bucky said, complete with an asshole grin that while Peter couldn't see it, Steve could, who looked over from grabbing his laptop and laughed.
"Bucky." Peter's voice sounded like he might be forced to commit fratricide. "Call me that again, and I will drive up there and kick you in the shin."
Bucky laughed. "What, you don't like being called that?"
"I never liked that name," Peter growled. "Try not being an asshole to your brother during the Christmas season. You might accidentally not get a lump of coal in your stocking."
Bucky couldn't help another giggle or two, although he'd never admit they were giggles. "Peter, I am owed several lumps of coal at this point, I figure another one won't hurt. But, speaking of Christmas," Bucky said, deciding to stop teasing his brother and be serious for a moment. "Tony's promised to bring you up with bells on for the holiday. I can't do both Christmas Eve and Christmas, the Avengers are doing something one of those days."
Peter made a noise like he was thinking. "The family usually gets together for lunch and the evening on Christmas, so I suppose Christmas Eve would work better." There was the briefest of pauses, brief enough that Bucky didn't have a chance to answer before Peter was speaking again. "I don't suppose I can convince you to come meet the family in person, instead of me coming up there?"
Bucky sighed. "No, you can't. I'd rather not spend my Christmas afternoon surrounded by strangers who are going to spend the whole time acting like I'm some sort of celebrity instead of a family member that's just not been there for awhile. I'd rather be around people who aren't going to treat me any differently than anyone else."
"Mm. I wouldn't be able to stop the younger ones from doing that," Peter admitted. "All right, then if Mister Stark can arrange it, I wouldn't mind coming up for the early part of the day on Christmas Eve. I have to be back for the evening church service, though."
Bucky blinked. "Church? When did you convert?"
"Around the time you died," Peter said. "I was wanting to believe there'd be an afterlife I'd get to see you in again, and I found a church that didn't mind a gay man in their pews."
Bucky didn't know what to say at first. He'd grown up with a Christian best friend, his brother being among the faithful didn't bother him, but the idea that Peter had converted specifically to see Bucky in Heaven or wherever didn't sit particularly well with him. He didn't want to be the one responsible for making or breaking someone's faith. "Honestly, Peter, if there is a god, you're not going to be seeing me in his Heaven. Not with the whole 'have to be a believer' thing as the ticket in."
"I can have faith," Peter said. "Don't let it worry you, you believe what you like, and I will believe what I like. It's called living in harmony, I think more people should do it."
Bucky glanced at Steve, who was giving him an odd look, apparently just as surprised as Bucky, although he was only getting one side of the conversation. "Quite frankly, little brother, if people lived in harmony like what you're wanting, I'd be out a job. But you know I'm not going to say anything against your beliefs. I've spent how many years around Steve now?"
"I know," Peter said. "On the subject, is Steve still Catholic?"
"No," Bucky said. "Why?"
"If he's looking for a new church to attend, I can recommend my denomination."
"I don't know if he is. I'll hand the phone over, you can ask him yourself. I'm not playing carrier pigeon in a conversation you can have yourself."
"After we're done talking," Peter said. "Unless you're already done with me."
Bucky frowned slightly. "No, not unless you want me to be. The subject's not a conversation ender, Peter. It just surprised me, that's all. But then, you love throwing surprises at me."
Peter chuckled. "Well, you were absent a long time, things happen."
That frown didn't disappear, instead, it deepened, and Bucky found himself looking down at his cooling mug of what was left of his cocoa. "I know. I didn't mean to be."
"I wasn't accusing, Bucky," Peter said. "Stop sounding so down. It's the Christmas season, be happy and full of good will. And I already have your present. So it'd better cheer you up."
"Goddamnit, Peter, why'd you do that? I don't know what to get you."
Peter laughed in his ear. "Bucky, having you alive is the best present I could get for the rest of my life. Just have me over for Christmas Eve, we'll have lunch, I'll be more than happy with that."
"That's not fair," Bucky complained. "I didn't have to do anything to get you that."
"If it bothers you that much, I like books as much as you do. Find me something."
Bucky blew out a pointed and frustrated puff of air into the phone. "I don't know what you've read or not."
Peter sounded way too amused for his own safety and well-being. "Then cook me lunch when I get there. You always made a good roast duck."
"Okay, that I can do," Bucky said. "What time should I tell Tony to have you here by?"
Peter was silent a second. "Well, if we have lunch early, and I want to be back no later than five, maybe around ten? Give us a bit of time before the food's ready."
"I'll let Tony know," Bucky said. "Here, I'll let you talk to Steve. I'd talk longer, but Steve has an appointment to make, and I have to make another call after he's done. We're getting a bit busy around here."
"Good, you get into trouble when you're bored," Peter said. "Lemme talk to Steve."
Bucky handed the phone out for Steve. "My brother wants to talk church with you," he said.
Steve looked even more confused than he had before, but he took the phone. "Hi, Peter. Hm? No, I haven't really been looking. Why? Well, I won't turn down the suggestion. UCC? What's that stand for? Mm. I'll look into them. Thanks. Do I need to hand the phone back over? Okay, just a second. It was nice to talk to you again. We're seeing you on Christmas Eve, it sounds like? Good, see you then. Here's Bucky." He handed the phone back over silently, then focused his attention on his laptop.
Bucky took the phone. "I thought I told you that we have other calls to make," he said, not at all seriously scolding his brother.
He could all but hear the grin on Peter's face. "What, I can't say goodbye to my big brother before hanging up the phone? I love you, you big jackass."
"I love you too, Peter. I'll see you on Christmas Eve."
They said their good byes, and hung up. Bucky handed the phone over to Steve. "Here, call that reporter."
Steve took the phone. "Who was it you had to call after that?" he asked.
"That shelter," Bucky said. "I told the woman in charge that I'd call when I knew what the plans for Christmas Eve and Christmas are so she knows when to schedule me." Steve held out the phone for him, but Bucky shook his head. "Find out when the reporter can come over. I'm working overnight, I don't like the idea of trying to sleep while a stranger's here."
"Fair enough," Steve said, taking back the phone and scrolling through what Bucky assumed was the call log to get the number for the paper back.
Bucky listened half-heartedly, watching the snow outside still falling. It wasn't at blizzard levels, but it was still accumulating, and Bucky could only imagine what it was going to be like overnight for the people in the streets. He hadn't realized just how lucky he was that it'd been one of the warm months when he had to spend his own time out there.
"All right. See you then," Steve said, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Good-bye."
"What did you decide?" Bucky asked.
"We're good for this afternoon," Steve said, setting the phone down on the table between them. "Do you want to participate, or hide away in the bedroom while I come up with excuses? I'll need to start thinking now if you want me to come up with something good."
"Steve, you could be thinking from now 'til eternity and still not have come up with a good lie. Get over it."
Steve looked grumpy. "I've managed to not be completely obvious in the past," he said.
"Only when someone's safety is on the line," Bucky said. "And since the only thing that might be on the line here is a bit of social discomfort, you're not going to be coming up with anything this time."
Steve pointed at the phone. "There's the phone, make your call and let me pretend to be insulted in peace."
"One of these days, you're going to stop pretending," Bucky said, ignoring the phone for the moment to look up the number for the shelter. There'd probably be no one there right now, the shelter closed until dinner time, when they'd open their doors to the first one hundred and thirty-six people who showed up. One hundred and thirty-five that night, unless they were able to replace that one bed, which he wasn't sure they'd be able to so quickly.
But he could leave a voicemail, letting Jennie know that he could work Christmas Eve. He'd reserve Christmas for the Avengers, if Tony decided to make them do anything together.
As he expected, once he'd gotten the number dialed in and let it ring, he was taken to voicemail, so he left a message, hung up, and set the phone back down on the table. "What time is the reporter coming over?"
"Two-thirty," Steve said. "So we have some time before she's here." He glanced over his shoulder at the living area. "Sometimes I wish we were messy people just so we'd have cleaning to keep us occupied when we're waiting for guests."
Bucky stared at him flatly. "If you want to go fling around pillows and books or something, be my guest, but I'm not helping you clean up."
Steve stayed halfway around in his seat, but turned his head to look at Bucky. "What, you want to sit there bored?"
Bucky grabbed his tablet. "I have books to read. And I'll cook lunch in a couple hours. If you want something to clean, you can clean up after that. Grab a book or something. Or go find weird things on the internet. I find it entertaining."
"Yeah, I know," Steve said, sounding annoyed. "And you share it with me."
"Which is the entertaining part," Bucky said, a smile of pure evil on his face. "Maybe you can learn to fight back."
Steve didn't look terribly happy with Bucky. "I'd say that I hope Tony can figure out how to traumatize you, but I'd probably get hit in the crossfire."
"Probably," Bucky agreed. "We'd both make sure to share with you, because we care about you like that."
"You have a funny definition of caring," Steve grumbled. But he got up and went over to their bookcase, which didn't have many books on it for its size, and stared at the books.
Bucky watched him look over the titles for about thirty seconds before making an aggravated noise. "Pick one, Steve."
"I'm looking," Steve said. "It's weird, I'm used to seeing more books."
"You're not seeing fewer books, the bookshelf's bigger than our old one," Bucky said. "Just grab whatever you'd been reading before."
"I finished that one," Steve said, still looking. "I need more books. This bookshelf is too empty."
Bucky groaned, folding his arms on the table and resting his head on them. "Steve, for god's sake, just pick a book. You're being annoying."
"Nobody said you had to watch me," Steve said.
Bucky lifted his head when the sound of a book hitting the table startled him. He looked at it as Steve sat down. "To Kill A Mockingbird. I heard that was a good one."
Steve picked up the book. "So have I. I've had it for awhile, just hadn't read it yet. Then things went crazy, and I didn't have the chance."
"Mm." Bucky sat up, grabbing his tablet. "Should've grabbed it when we left DC, I guess."
"I figured I had my sketchbook and pencils," Steve said. "I was wondering what you planned on doing."
"My plans hadn't included reading the same few chapters over and over again," Bucky admitted, scrolling through his books. He hadn't purchased any new ones, although he'd really wanted to buy the Dresden Files books. But Peter had told him in no uncertain terms that getting those books for Bucky was his job. At that point in the month, Bucky would probably be waiting for Christmas to get the next one.
Which meant he had to find something new to read.
He decided to take a hint from Steve and downloaded a copy of To Kill A Mockingbird. He set an alarm on his tablet to interrupt him when it was lunch time. He tended to disappear past meal time when he was reading, and they had company coming over after lunch. He may have been a mercenary with little concept of mercy and a former assassin with none, but he still wasn't rude enough to cook and eat in front of a guest.
There were just limits.
The morning passed quietly. At about eleven forty-five, he set aside his tablet and made lunch- hot ham and turkey sandwiches, a potato salad he'd made the day before that was still good, and Steve's damn Doritos. Bucky took delight in grabbing one of his snack cakes for after his meal.
Steve cleaned the kitchen after the skillet had cooled enough to be handled, leaving them another hour and a half before the reporter got there. Another 'hurry up and wait' until a deadline hit. Bucky was really getting sick of that. It was about as bad as having absolutely no deadline and falling into extreme boredom. They really needed to get a job, and soon. Bucky was getting a little stir-crazy.
At two twenty-two, JARVIS interrupted their reading. "Excuse me, sirs, but there is a Miss Jessica Soll here to see you. Shall I let her up?"
"Please, JARVIS," Steve said, marking his book. "We're expecting her."
Bucky turned off his tablet, and took it and Steve's laptop to the bookcase, right behind Steve with his book. Once the book was shelved, Bucky tucked the laptop and the tablet onto one of the bottom two shelves, cupboard doors hiding the cords that accompanied the electronics, and shut the doors.
Both of them tugged on their shoes- boots, in Bucky's case -once at the door. Neither felt comfortable going around in stocking feet with a stranger in their home, and they were equally disinclined to invite said stranger to take her own shoes off.
The clock read two twenty-four when there was a knock on the door. Bucky backed away, around the corner a bit and towards the table, choosing to not crowd the poor woman right at the door with two superhero-types, one of whom was recently a wanted criminal. That might be a bit much for her poor heart.
Bucky heard the door open, and Steve's voice start to say hello, and then pause. "Bucky?" He sounded somewhere between shocked and amused. "I think there's an old friend at the door."
Frowning, Bucky walked back over to the front entryway, stopping and staring at the auburn-haired woman with thick-rimmed glasses, and an excited smile on her face.
She held out her hand. "Jessica Soll, from the Daily Globe. Can I come in?"
Bucky raised an eyebrow, but took her hand. "I thought you were an independent writer in DC," he said.
Her smile managed to widen. "My articles about you landed me a job here in Manhattan," she said. "My girl and I are finally making it. And I have you to thank."
Steve and Bucky exchanged a look. "And you thought nothing good came of that mess," Steve said.
"I never said that," Bucky said, stepping back to let her in. "My brother found me."
Steve closed the door behind Jessica, and Bucky heard the distinct click of JARVIS locking it. "So, Miss Soll, it's nice to see you again. Sorry I didn't speak to you last time, parking on the street in front of the door wasn't allowed by our former landlord." He stepped past her. "Make yourself at home. You can sit at either the table or on the couches."
"If you don't mind, I'll take the couch. It's better for an interview if everyone's comfortable." She took the invitation, pausing between the couches before taking a seat on the end of the one with the back to the door.
Bucky had to give a mental thumbs up for her, choosing to let the hosts have the vantage of the front door. And for giving two mercenaries the feeling of security at being able to watch the entrance. With all the work she did about superheroes, Bucky would be surprised if the thought of security hadn't been behind her decision.
Either way, he approved.
Steve sat down on the end of the other couch closest to Jessica, and Bucky chose to lean on the back of the couch, on Steve's other side, arms crossed and his weight on his them.
Jessica set her purse down next to her and pulled out a recorder that looked nicer than the one she'd had tucked under her glove back in DC. It almost looked like a much smaller version of the cell phones that had predated the flip phone, but came after the much larger phones that the internet frequently referred to as 'bricks'.
Bucky leaned forward slightly, trying to see if there was any evidence of a camera on it. "There's not going to be any pictures today, are there?" He sincerely hoped not.
She shook her head. "No, just an interview." She smiled. "There's no camera on this, it's just an audio recorder." She held it up, flipping it back and forth for his inspection. "See? No lens." She looked at Steve. "I should ask before we get to that point, though. You are okay with pictures on the day of the visits, right? If not, I will tell my photographer when I get back to the office that he'll have to come up with another reason for us to get to work with you."
"I'm fine with that," Steve said. "I figured there'd be pictures. Before you fire up the recorder, mind if I ask you a question?"
Jessica sat back, her recorder in her hands, and Bucky almost wondered if she hadn't hit the record button anyway, but he knew Steve wasn't necessarily wanting to speak off the record, just wanted to ask something outside of the interview, so he didn't say anything about it. "Absolutely, Captain Rogers."
"What did you get Bucky to tell you that got you into the Globe's sights?"
Her earlier smile was back. "I was the first to have been able to get him to confirm the news. It's one thing for everyone to have pictures and experts to nod their heads and go 'mmhm, it's genuine', but it's another to get a celebrity to admit to something controversial. I didn't have much of an interview." She glanced at Bucky. "He was rather tight-lipped. But it was still the first confirmation from either him or you."
She turned her attention back to Steve. "After they saw that, especially after his interview-dodging tactic with the bigger news groups, they looked at the rest of my stuff on superheroes, and called and offered me a job. I've been covering your disappearance and the news about Hydra almost exclusively since. When we found out that Captain America would be making his rounds at the hospitals this year, I asked for the story. I knew it'd mean I'd get to actually meet you. I hadn't exactly had a chance to talk to you before."
Steve smiled. "No, you hadn't. Don't they have anyone else doing stories on superheroes? There's a few of us around, you can't possibly handle them all."
"I'm not doing them all," she said. "My focus is on the Avengers, most notably, you two."
If it wasn't for the fact that she was a professional reporter that had to follow something or someone with her stories for her job, Bucky might've almost been creeped out by that.
"Are you covering Tony's charity ball?" Steve asked.
Jessica shook her head. "No, someone else covers that. That assignment was already given by the time I was hired. It's considered a social event." Then she tilted her head slightly, one eyebrow raising. "I think I'm supposed to be asking the questions here."
Bucky poked Steve's shoulder. "Yeah, punk, let the lady ask her questions."
Steve swatted at Bucky's hand, smacking his fingers soundly on Bucky's metal knuckles. He yelped and shook his hand, giving Bucky a glare, before turning his attention back to the reporter. "I'm sorry, Miss Soll. Please, ask your questions."
The interview went smoothly, and seemed fairly standard. Bucky had been witness to a few interviews with Steve back during the war, and been asked a few questions himself, and this wasn't terribly different from anything he'd heard before. The questions were about a different subject, but the type of questions journalists asked hadn't changed from way back when.
Near the end, she brought up a question Bucky hadn't expected, should have, and made him very glad that he'd chosen to be around for the interview.
"Are the children going to be given an appearance by both Captain America and the Winter Soldier?"
Steve took in a deep breath. "No. I'd like him to, but he has other things he's doing for the holidays."
"Things that don't involve children and possibly sue-happy parents that wouldn't like a known assassin hanging around their kids," Bucky said, without really meaning to cut in.
Jessica seemed to take that in stride. She looked up at Bucky. "I know this is tangentially related, but I'm afraid my curiosity might kill me if I don't ask. What work are you doing this year?"
Bucky almost tried to dodge the question; it was an article on Steve, even though Jessica had admitted it was personal curiosity, but then he remembered Tony's suggestion of bringing press attention to the issue, and decided to run with it. "I'm volunteering overnights at an emergency homeless shelter that deals exclusively with war veterans. Not every night, but I might be working on the twenty-first, and I wanna make sure I'm available for them and not running around in my tactical gear unnecessarily."
"I didn't realize there was a shelter that was just for veterans," she said. "Aren't there other shelters?"
Bucky kept the cynical remark he wanted to say to himself. "It's mostly families with young children in those."
She was silent, looking down at her recorder, then back up at him. "Do you think we could work in time to talk about this in an interview for you? I think it's an issue deserving attention, too."
He shook his head. "Your beat is the superhero scene. I'm not doing this as the Winter Soldier, I'm doing this as a vet who thinks it's bull that these guys are getting abandoned. If you want the issue covered in the paper, though, I can get you the number for the shelter, and the name of the woman that runs it. She can answer more of your questions, anyway."
"That would be wonderful," she said. "Since this isn't a superhero gig, I know exactly who to ask to cover this."
Bucky pushed away from the couch and went over to the bookshelf, digging into the cupboard for his tablet. He brought the number back up, then handed it off to Jessica.
She read Miss Brennan's name aloud, and the number, then handed the tablet back to Bucky. "Thank you, Mister Barnes. I'll be sure to pass this along to one of my coworkers."
"As long as nobody tries to shadow me," Bucky said. "Those guys just want to have a hot meal and sleep, they don't need the press underfoot. I'm sure Miss Brennan will give an interview when nobody's trying to sleep."
"I'll make note of that," she said, picking up the recorder and giving it a pointed shake. She turned back to Steve. "A couple more questions, if you don't mind?"
The interview had been basically almost over at that brief intercession, she only had a handful of questions left, then she turned off her recorder and stood, holding out her hand for Steve. "It's been a pleasure, Captain Rogers. I'll see you on the twenty-first, at Mount Sinai Children's Hospital. Starting at five."
He stood and shook her hand. "I'll be waiting, Miss Soll," he said, then walked her to the door. Once the reporter was gone, he looked back at Bucky. "Clever. Now Tony doesn't have to try to anonymously send someone down there."
Bucky shrugged, trying to smother a smug smile, but not having much success. "I think we got lucky that we got a Winter Soldier fangirl on this interview," he said, heading back to the table. "Some others might not have asked, or have left it alone after my first answer."
Steve grabbed his book off the bookshelf and headed for the table, where Bucky was already making himself comfortable. Steve stopped short of the table, looking at Bucky, then over to the couches. "Why do we always sit on the hard seats to read instead of on the nice couches we have?"
"Because you usually have your laptop or your sketch book nearby," Bucky said. "And you prefer a hard surface to work on for both."
"Forget that table, then," Steve said. "I have nice couches, I'm using one of them."
Bucky laughed. "Tired of the old days?"
"What, you mean the days when my kitchen chairs were comfier than my couch was?" Steve asked, settling himself down on the couch nearest the table, his back to Bucky. "Busted springs, broken supports. The cushions were better off on the floor."
"And yet, I had to convince you to throw them there," Bucky said, pulling his own copy of To Kill A Mockingbird up on his tablet.
Steve made a distracted sound, then turn his head slightly, like he was trying to look back at Bucky, but lacked the ability to pull an owl and turn his head all the way around. "That was different."