The Pen is Mightier! (penismightier) wrote in chaotic_library, @ 2015-01-02 08:38:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | bruce banner, bucky barnes, clint barton, maria hill, marvel, natasha romanov, novel, pepper potts, r-rated, sharon carter, steve rogers, thor, tony stark, yuuo, yuuo: marvel |
[Bucky Barnes; R] I'll Be Home For Christmas: Chapter 11
Character/Series: Bucky Barnes, Cast; Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: R
Notes: The conversation with Ella went differently in my head. Glad it went this way, even if it stumped me for awhile. The other conversation I had was depressing. Really depressing.
Title: I'll Be Home For Christmas- Chapter 11: Wishing For A Home
Author: yuuo
Word Count:
Summary: Monday and Tuesday passed with no word from nor sign of Tony.
Monday and Tuesday passed with no word from nor sign of Tony. Bucky almost would've welcomed waking up in the afternoons to finding that patriotic garland strung around the living room they were threatened with. But he didn't see Tony during the few morning hours and few afternoon hours he was up and around, working overnight both of those nights. Wednesday came and passed, completely quiet.
Bucky almost wished they'd get a job that would prevent them from going to that ball. Even if it meant ten thousand wasted bucks on suits and shoes, it somehow felt like it might be better than the awkwardness of being where they didn't feel they were wanted.
He was just about to ask Steve if he was sure there were no messages on the work phone about any jobs when JARVIS spoke up. "Excuse me, sirs, but Mister Stark is requesting your presence in the Avengers penthouse. Mister Thor has arrived."
Bucky noticed, but declined to comment on, the fact that Tony didn't call and tell them this himself. It could mean nothing, but now that Tony'd had a chance to hear them out and quite probably didn't like what he heard about why they lied, it could mean a lot. It was hard to tell with Tony sometimes.
"Thanks, JARVIS," Steve said, marking his place in his book. "Tell him we're on our way."
Bucky set aside his tablet, went and grabbed a pair of socks from his room, and pulled on said socks and his boots. Steve was waiting for him, and normally he might've made a comment about Bucky's refusal to wear socks on carpet making him take longer to get ready. Bucky suspected that with Tony being the reason they were going out, it just wasn't there.
Neither spoke on the elevator ride up, the silence having become the norm over the last few days. Steve was born and raised Catholic, and few groups did guilt as well as Catholics. Bucky had developed something of a guilt complex of his own since coming out of the brainwashing fog. Now that they'd been pulled into a position of having to try to make up for hurting a friend willingly, their respective complexes were eating them alive. Neither wanted to talk about it, but nothing else was really on their minds, either.
They really needed a damn job.
When the elevator pinged and let them off at the penthouse, Bucky took note immediately that only Tony and Thor were up there, the latter taller than Bucky had expected, a few inches taller than Steve, although proportionately, no broader. What else he didn't expect was for Thor to be in street clothes, such as they were, rather than his Asgardian armor that seemed to be the only thing the public had ever seen him in, if the news reports were anything to go by.
But it made sense. No need to stand out more than necessary.
Tony motioned them over. "Hey, old guys, come meet someone older than you."
Thor gave him a weary look. "You are very tiring, Tony. I believe, by equivalent age, I am nearly the same age as the captain and his friend."
Bucky followed Steve's lead, walking over to Thor and Tony. Tony took the moment to pour himself a glass of what looked like eggnog, but was likely rumchata, given the stock of the bar. Bucky wished for a glass, himself.
"Probably," Steve said, taking Thor's hand. "Nice to see you again, Thor. Glad it's under better circumstances this time."
"And you, Captain," Thor said, then turned his attention to Bucky. "You must be James Barnes. Well met." He held out his hand.
Bucky took it and gave it a shake. "Bucky," he said. "According to Tony, I got adopted by the Avengers, which makes you guys friends. I prefer being called 'Bucky' by my friends."
Thor smiled. "Bucky it is, then." He tilted his head. "That is an unusual name. Where did it come from?"
"It's short for Buchanan," Bucky said. "That's my middle name."
Thor nodded once in understanding. "If I had a nickname, I would offer it," he said with a good-natured grin, "but my name is easy enough that it does not require one."
Tony snorted. "I think the only one around here with an actual nickname is him."
"And 'Tony' isn't short for 'Anthony'?" Bucky demanded.
Tony motioned at him with his glass. "You don't call me that. Nobody calls me that. Not even Pepper calls me that."
Bucky held up his hands in surrender, acting like it'd only been a friendly barb, but he wasn't sure right then. "Fair enough. Nobody calls me 'James' unless I'm in trouble," he said.
"I'll keep that in mind," Tony said, taking a drink of his rumchata.
Bucky suddenly had the feeling he'd be hearing his first name from Tony and probably Pepper, too, over the next however long it took him to earn their forgiveness.
He wished he could go back in time and do things differently. There were a lot of things he'd go back and do differently. Shoulda woulda couldas and what ifs. He wasn't sure which was worse, those, or the other things that haunted his nightmare. At least everything else he hadn't been a willing participant in.
Bucky stayed quiet, letting Thor and Steve catch up, and quietly removed himself from the conversation, retreating to one of the couches, folding his legs underneath him and listening from a distance. He could make small talk, but when there was an expectation of being friends, or at least more than friendly strangers, he wasn't terribly interested in trying. Thor would grow on him, he'd warm up, but for now, he decided to let Steve and Thor bond, to let Tony listen from the other side of the bar.
Speaking of Tony, the man moved around the bar and passed Steve and Thor, and took a seat next to Bucky. Steve gave them a backwards glance, but remained where he was, locked in his conversation.
"Not going to go join in?" Tony asked, sipping his drink.
Bucky wished he had a drink of his own. He didn't want to be sober. "I don't know him," Bucky said. "And he's Steve's friend. I'll let them talk first."
"Mm." Tony took another drink. "I remember you weren't terribly chatty with me, either. I had to trick you into it. Just so you know, Thor's a great guy, smart, but he's not as subtle as I am, he's blunter. Good luck with him tricking you, so you may as well try."
At first, Bucky didn't answer, staring down at his hands, then finally looked over at Tony. "So when are you going to start calling me 'James'?"
Tony gave him a stern look. "This isn't about us," he said. "This is about you being nice to Thor. Unless you want another friend to have hurt feelings."
"Then it is about us," Bucky said, keeping his voice low enough to not interrupt Steve and Thor's conversation. "I'll warm up when I warm up. Right now, they're talking, I'm not going to interrupt them."
"Winter takes awhile to thaw," Tony said, and Bucky would just bet that Tony thought he was clever for that play on words.
"Something like that," Bucky said.
Tony whistled, a sharp note, and motioned to Steve and Thor when they looked over at him. "Hey, tall and blonde guys, why don't you come over here, sit down, take a load off. Get us all in on this conversation."
The two exchanged a look, then shrugged and walked over, taking seats near Tony and Bucky. Steve looked like he wished Tony would move and let Steve have that spot next to Bucky, to try to change the group dynamics to keep Tony from cornering either of them without the other there for support. Stupid, overprotective bastard. That'd been what got them into trouble in the first place.
"My apologies," Thor said. "I'm afraid the captain and I were absorbed in our conversation. I did not mean to neglect anyone."
Tony waved it off. "Water under the bridge, Point Blank," Tony said.
Thor scowled at him. "Jane explained that reference to me," he said. "Find a new name."
Tony sniffed, jaw moving like he was chewing something, probably his tongue. "MC?" All three men looked at him like he'd lost his damn mind. Tony looked between them. "What, is that pop culture you haven't caught up on yet? 'Stop! Hammer time!'?" He shook his head. "I have been failed."
Thor pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have a name, Tony. It is good enough."
Tony pointed to Bucky. "He won't let me call him 'James' unless I'm mad at him." Then he pointed at Steve. "And I don't know the last time I called him 'Steve'. And nobody calls me Anthony, ever, or they find themselves flying off the building without my help. Why can't I have a nickname for you?"
"Because your nicknames are less than flattering," Thor said. "And often are only understood by you."
Tony heaved a heartfelt sigh. "I know, it's depressing. Nobody around here gets anything. You all spent your time frozen or not in this world."
"It's not like any of us chose that, Tony," Steve said.
Tony made a face like a young child told he had to wash his hands before getting food. "And clearly, I am failing in catching you up, Spangles," he said
Bucky relaxed marginally. The fact that Tony was calling Steve that instead of 'Cap,' or worse, by his first name, meant that for the moment, Tony was not nursing his grudge. Or, at least, he was pretending very well to keep Thor out of things.
"Seventy years," Steve said. "That's a lot of pop culture to catch up on. Just because I'm superhuman doesn't mean I'm that much of a superhuman. I can't exactly slow down time to fit more into the day."
"You need to learn from Hermione," Tony said.
Bucky groaned. "Oh god, not Harry Potter," he said. "Please don't ever reference that shitty book series again."
Steve made a chortling sound while Tony laughed.
Thor just looked confused. "I do not understand. Darcy enjoyed that series immensely."
"Then she's as nuts as the rest of the world," Bucky said. "The story was fine, for the most part, but the characters were terrible- Harry should've been a bitter drunk by the age of sixteen. The writing was juvenile. Really, if that's the best a twelve-year-old can read, we need to overhaul our education system. And I counted several plot holes, and a handful of timeline problems. The series wasn't worth the acclaim it got."
Tony set his empty glass down on the coffee table in front of them. "I see someone has strong opinions about books."
"He always does," Steve said. "Has as long as I've known him. If he hadn't been strong enough to beat up anyone who made fun of him for it, he might've gotten bullied almost as much as I was."
Bucky snorted. "I wasn't just a book nerd, the kids knew not to mess with me."
"Did you ever stand up for anyone besides Cap?" Tony asked, and Bucky heard the challenge in it.
Bucky looked at him. "I stood up for anyone who needed it," he said. He wasn't sure that was the right answer, but it was the honest one, and he refused to lie to Tony any more than he already had.
Tony looked like he wanted to say more, but Thor's presence was keeping his mouth shut. He merely nodded. "I'd say Cap must've learned it from you, but I think you two are just naturally idiots."
Thor smiled. "If they are idiots for standing up for what is right, you are one, too," he said. "We all remember what you did here in this city. Jane told me about your sacrifice to stop the terrorist known as the Mandarin. I have also heard from past news reports what you have done since becoming Iron Man."
Tony looked he didn't like being lumped in as an 'idiot'. "I'm a philanthropist," he said, then motioned to Thor, giving Bucky a pointed look. "Do you hear this guy? He called me an idiot."
For a second, Bucky wasn't sure how to reply safely. He almost looked to Steve for help. "He accused you of standing up for what's right. I wouldn't look a compliment in the face and spit at it."
Tony opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when the sound of The Star-Spangled Man With A Plan started to play from Steve's hip pocket. Everyone turned their head to stare at him.
Steve sat frozen before slowly taking their private phone out of his pocket and staring at it. "Okay, who set that song for my ringtone?" he demanded.
Tony grinned like a jackass. "That's to make up for the patriotic garland Pepper won't let me put up in your apartment."
While Bucky had to keep from laughing hysterically, Steve checked the phone again, before frowning. "I don't recognize this number. Do you?" he asked, handing it over to Bucky.
Bucky studied the number. "Oh," he said, but didn't elaborate as he answered it. "Hello?"
"Mister Barnes, I hate to do this at the last minute," Jennie Brennan said, "but if I give you tomorrow night off, can you come in tonight? We have a bit of an emergency that walked in on us."
Bucky glanced outside at the almost dark sky. He figured it was between five-thirty and six. "I can," he said. "What happened?"
"We had a woman come in for the night. We normally don't get women in here, but we're not going to tell any combat vet they can't stay here as long as we have room to accommodate them. But you served, I don't know how common women soldiers were in your day, but I'm sure you can guess how dangerous it can be for one woman to be surrounded by over a hundred men in a crowded room."
Bucky didn't have to even put his imagination to work on that. "I'll be in as soon as I can."
"Thank you," Jennie said. "We'll make sure you have some of the food we cooked for the men, since I'm sure you'll be missing your dinner because of this. Please be quick."
"I will," Bucky promised, said good bye, and hung up. It took him all of a second to realize that the three other men were staring at him expectantly. "That was the shelter. A woman vet came in, needs a bodyguard to make sure the boys keep their hands to themselves," he explained, standing. "Sorry to run, but I've got work."
Thor frowned. "I did not realize you had a regular job," he said. "I thought that you and the captain were mercenaries."
"We are," Bucky said, handing the phone back to Steve. "I'm volunteering at a homeless shelter for combat vets." He turned his attention to Steve. "I'll take the work phone." He waved to the others, backing away. "Nice to meet you, Thor. I'd stay, but I'm needed right now."
Thank god for an escape.
He felt bad about leaving Steve with a passive-aggressive Tony and an oblivious Thor, but Bucky wasn't interested in playing Tony's games and trying to socialize with a stranger at the same time. The call from Jennie had been perfectly timed.
He took time to change his shirt from something good enough for lounging around the house to something warmer and better suited to hide his holster and Beretta, pulled on his coat, just barely remembered to grab the work phone, and paused at the door. He had planned on picking up something for Steve for Christmas, and maybe try to find something for his stupid brother who didn't want any stupid thing because he was stupid on Saturday morning, but he wouldn't be working Friday night. He grabbed some money from their savings, more than he needed for the cab fare, and stuffed it in his wallet.
They really needed a job. Their savings was dwindling, with Christmas hitting. They were still okay for awhile, but he didn't want to rely on Tony's generosity more than they already were, especially not with Tony and Pepper both mad at them.
Money in hand, he headed out, asking JARVIS to lock up behind him.
The cab ride to the shelter seemed to take longer than usual, but a glance at his watch told him that it hadn't taken that much time, five minutes at most. It still seemed longer than that.
When he got to the shelter, the men- and one woman, easy to spot with her long brown hair pulled up into a sloppy ponytail -were at the tables, eating. It smelled like spaghetti had been served that evening, and it made him hungry. He rarely got Italian, since Steve wasn't a big fan. That wasn't a too bad trade for coming in with not enough sleep.
Not that he thought he'd feel the fatigue until he got home. He wasn't just on security duty, he was on bodyguard duty. That was going to put him in Mission Mindset. Fatigue would only be a distant memory that night.
Jennie spotted him as he approached the tables, then left the kitchen, disappearing from behind the window and reappearing through the door. She didn't say anything until she was close to him. "Thank you so much for this," she said. "Ella's come in a couple times before." She nodded her head in Ella's direction. "She's a good woman, but after the first time here when she got harassed, she's been hesitant to come back. The streets are dangerous enough, at least out there, she has a chance of finding a hiding spot to sleep in peace. But it's too cold tonight, she decided to chance it."
Bucky studied Ella, only able to really see her from her profile, but it was enough. She had mid-toned skin, maybe of partial Middle Eastern descent, with even darker eyes and hair, and looked in her early forties. She looked malnourished, but that seemed common around those parts. She was giving everyone around her a challenging stare. He had to admire her spirit, even though the fact that she had to be so paranoid was rather depressing. Didn't those men ever learn that they weren't supposed to make a woman feel unsafe around them? Their mothers failed them.
"I'll keep her safe," he promised Jennie.
Jennie released a relieved huff of air. "Thank you. It's all right right now, with dinner and all. We've got a lot of eyes on the crowd, so if you wanted some food, we can get you dished up right now, give you a chance to eat before you have to stand guard."
"Wouldn't mind food," he admitted, already gauging the crowd. There seemed to be fewer vets of the Vietnam age, and more from more recent wars, than usual. Though he wasn't sure who came from what. There'd been a number of skirmishes besides just the outright wars since Vietnam. It was hard to tell where the younger men might've served.
Bucky was led into the kitchen and handed a plate, which he cleaned quickly, watching out the serving window to the dining area, trying to keep an eye on his charge. He didn't get to enjoy the food much, not with his focus elsewhere, but his taste buds told him that was probably just as well. It wasn't that great.
Once his empty plate had joined the plates belonging to the other staff and some from the men who'd eaten quicker than others, or had been served first, he returned to the dining area, tracking down Ella.
She was sitting mostly alone, only a couple men willing to brave sitting by her when she was stabbing her spaghetti like her fork was a knife. She gave him a hostile look as he sat down next to her. "I don't need company."
"I'm staff," he said. "I'm not here to harass you. I'm here to make sure the others let you sleep in peace tonight." He held out his hand. "James Barnes."
She set down her fork, studying him. "It's about time this place got someone competent." She shook his hand. "Ella Langenberg." She picked up her fork again. "You were with the one-oh-seventh, right?"
Bucky rested his elbow on the table, glancing at the few men that were sitting with them, chair space between them. The shelter had more seating spots at the tables than beds, presumably with the idea of staff getting to have a meal while working. But it meant that there were fewer people to keep an eye on in the immediate vicinity. Once he was sure the boys were going to behave themselves, he turned his attention back to Ella. "Yeah, up until I got tapped for the Howling Commandos. What about you?"
"I'm a Marine," she said. "Served in Saudi Arabia during the Gulf War. First Marine Division." She seemed a bit vauge, possibly trying to keep herself distanced, possibly just splitting her focus between him and her food. "Sorry, former Marine. I'm not in the service anymore. I'd probably have an actual bed if I were still in it. Maybe I should re-enlist."
"Think they'd take you?" he asked.
She took a bite of her food before answering. "Maybe. I doubt it. I'm not sure I want back in. Sure, once a Marine, always a Marine, but..." She trailed off. "I don't know. It'd probably be better than always starving and being cold and looking for places to hide from street thugs who want between my legs, but I don't want to go back. I served, I'm done. It's not like Uncle Sam has done all that much to take care of me, even before I was discharged."
Bucky noticed that while she was talking, even with her cynical words, her tone was from far away, like she wasn't actually attached to what she was saying.
"I'll let you eat," he said. "I'll just keep watch, make sure you can do that in peace."
That got something of a reaction out of her, a tiny half-formed smile, but it remained accompanied by that flat tone. "You're a good man, Barnes. What rank were you again?"
"Sergeant," he said.
She made a thoughtful noise, taking another bite. "I outranked you."
Bucky snorted. "Yeah, a lot of people did, including my best friend who couldn't even get them to take him four times before Erskine came along. The little bastard was suddenly a big bastard."
There was another reaction, this time, one more pronounced as she abruptly choked on the bite of food she'd just taken, face red with what looked like the effort to not laugh. She finally got her food swallowed. "I don't think anyone would ever call Captain America a bastard."
"That's because they don't know Steve Rogers," Bucky said. "There's sometimes a difference between Steve Rogers and Captain America."
She poked at her food, took a drink of water, then gave him a considering look. "What about between James Barnes and the Winter Soldier?"
Damn, he was getting tested a lot lately. Natasha, Tony and Pepper, and now even a woman he might never see again. But she was entrusting her safety to him, she was well within her right to see how far she should do that.
Still tiring.
He swept his gaze around the room, settling only briefly on the two men at their table, trying to decide how to answer her question, before looking back at her. "Which Winter Soldier are you talking about? Hydra's? Or mine?"
She studied him. "Is that why you kept the name?"
Bucky shrugged. "They gave it to me, might as well take it from them. If you mean the difference between James Barnes and the Winter Soldier who works with Captain America, then the only difference is that the Winter Soldier is more focused. James Barnes tends to get distracted by books and sometimes by shiny cookware. What you're getting tonight is that Winter Soldier. You're getting my Winter Soldier. Hydra's Winter Soldier doesn't exist anymore, and good riddance to him. The world doesn't need another one like him."
She raised an eyebrow, giving him an incredulous smile. "And I'm supposed to believe that Hydra's Winter Soldier doesn't still live in there?"
Bucky looked away again, frowning, trying to split his attention between her protection and her words. The two men at their table were looking very uncomfortable; one even got up and took his plate to a couple tables over. Finally, Bucky drew in a deep breath and looked at Ella. "He only gets to talk when I'm sleeping. And I won't be sleeping tonight. So he won't be here."
"Which means I can sleep," Ella said, sounding confident. She finished off her last meatball, then glanced back towards the bathrooms and showers. "Think the staff will let me get a shower in tonight? My scalp wants to crawl off my head and die in the gutter."
"I'll make sure they do," Bucky said.
When she went up to take her plate to the kitchen window, he followed her, flagged down Jennie, and secured authorization to keep other vets out of the showers long enough for Ella to clean up. That got a few grumbles from some of the men, but a reminder that the Winter Soldier was her personal bodyguard that night shut down the noise to a silent annoyance.
Fortunately for everyone involved, it took her all of five minutes, and Bucky stopped blocking the door to the showers. That seemed to ease the tensions a bit.
Ella chose a bed as close to the door as possible, even though it was colder than the ones closer to the kitchen. Bucky silently shadowed her, standing guard at her side once she was settled on the bed. She wasn't laying down, sitting up cross-legged, and staring off into nothing. He watched the room with a well-trained eye, and didn't engage her, allowing her to do whatever she had to do to turn off her brain enough to sleep.
"Hey, Barnes," she said after several minutes.
Bucky didn't stop watching the room as he answered. "Hm?"
"What was your war like?"
Bucky hesitated a moment, then went back to keeping an eye on the guys who were settling down as well, some already asleep. "Probably not that different from yours," he said. "Methods may change, but war pretty much stays the same."
Ella went quiet, and Bucky hoped that answer satisfied whatever was going on through her head at the moment. It obviously hadn't, however, when she spoke up again. "I never looked them in the eye. We had a lot of air support to take back Khafji. I did ground fighting, sure, but I never looked any in the eye."
He sincerely hoped she was referring to his work as a sniper in World War II, and not his 'war' with Hydra. He wasn't really willing to go down the latter path with a stranger in a homeless shelter. "Sniping isn't for everyone," he said. "Yes, it's a bit different."
"How hard is it?"
Finally, he looked down at her. "I've done harder," he said. "But only in retrospect."
Ella was studying him, brown eyes flat and dead. "Hydra's targets?"
He gave her a noise of acknowledgement, but otherwise didn't answer.
She rested her chin on her knees, legs folded up against herself. "We had a sniper in our company. Good guy, him. We both liked the local food, talked about opening a restaurant back here in the States. He got KIA, but I decided to try my hand at that business on my own, named it in his honor. Fell flat, lost everything. And now, here I am. And I can't help but think that if he'd been here instead of dying, things would've turned out differently. That restaurant might've made it. Or at least, I wouldn't be here alone."
Unlike earlier, Ella sounded part of what she was saying. There were no tears in her tone, but it didn't sound like she was reciting something out of a script, either. And her words hit uncomfortably close to home, like a shot that grazed his ear. "We don't mean to leave people behind," he said, going back to watching their surroundings.
"I know," she said. "I don't wish anyone to have gone through what you did, but I kinda wish he could come back, too."
"What was his name?" Bucky asked, deciding that this conversation was going to happen when she should be sleeping, so keeping it directed off his time with Hydra as much as possible was a new objective.
"Zeke," she said. "Helluva guy. Still dunno where to go without him." Before Bucky could answer, she scooted down on her bed. "Anyway, thanks for listening without trying to get into my pants in the process," she said, laying down and pulling her blanket over her. "Night, Barnes."
The night wore on without event; Bucky could've honestly just slept on his feet for how much action he saw, but he was on a mission, with an objective to protect someone, and that meant his full attention was on everything around them, and on her. But the back of his mind was at work, and before anyone had woken for the morning, he'd decided on a course of action and had slipped some money out of his wallet into his pocket for easier and less conspicuous access.
Other volunteers filed in, morning crews for cooking and serving and cleaning, and the vets began to wake up. Bucky's alert status went up a notch, now that there were men actively awake and would be crowding near Ella. He followed her through a morning routine, giving warning looks at men who tried to protest a woman in their presence- god forbid she get into line for food before them, not having to share a bathroom with any of them and getting done there quicker. Hadn't they ever heard of 'ladies first'?
He declined breakfast; he could eat at home, and he wanted to keep his focus entirely on his charge and their surroundings. The morning went by quietly, food being served, food being eaten, and empty plates returned to the kitchen. Vets began to file back out to the cold.
Bucky followed Ella to the door, and she paused, just out of the way of foot traffic, and held out her hand to him. "It's been a trip, Barnes," she said.
He took her hand, slipping the money he'd pulled out earlier into it. "Don't get prideful at me," he told her preemptively. "That's cab fare. You're going to the VA. Ask for Sergeant Josh Lewis. He's in charge of coordinating the programs for the homeless there. Tell him I sent you, and he'll hook you up with what you need to get off the streets, get a job, get a home." He smiled. "Maybe they'll even get you the training you need to open that restaurant again and succeed this time."
Ella stared at the money in her hand, then up at him, swallowing tightly, eyes taking on the slightest sheen. "I wish he could be here now. You're the first person to give a shit since him."
Bucky gave her a lopsided smile. "If you ever want someone to talk to about what it's like being left behind, I can give you Steve's number."
She snorted, rubbing her eyes. "I think I'd have a heart attack if I talked to Captain America on the phone about my problems. Or at all."
"The VA will have resources to help you find someone you can talk to. And that offer about Steve's number is still good. Or if you want to talk to me. Neither of us are good therapists, but we've been keeping each other going for awhile, that has to count for something."
She closed her fist around the money, then shoved it in her inner coat pocket. "You're a good man, Barnes," she said. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Including yourself."
They walked outside together, and Bucky waited until she'd hailed a cab and left, now feeling certain that she would at least be safe from any guys leaving the shelter and hopeful that she was taking his advice, then went back inside to sign out for the night and say good bye to the other volunteers.
With the rest of the excess money he'd brought with him, he made a stop at a nearby art store to shop for Steve. The asshole was hard to buy for, he didn't need much in his life besides most basic necessities that got replaced as needed and didn't make for good Christmas gifts. But he went through sketchbooks very quickly these days, and pencils along with it, and he'd expressed interest in trying his hand at charcoals and at painting. So, with a little help from an employee that knew more about paints than he could hope to, he managed a decent haul for Steve for Christmas.
He still had a little money left over for shopping for Peter, but he wasn't sure where to go for that, and his purchases for Steve had included a table easel and a couple canvases. While none of it was heavy by his standards, it was awkward. So rather than run around Manhattan with awkward packages, he'd drag Steve out later to shop with him. Steve would probably want to get something for Peter, anyway.
Purchases in hand, he went back to the Tower.