The Pen is Mightier! (penismightier) wrote in chaotic_library, @ 2014-12-29 10:08:00 |
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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 7
Character/Series: Bucky Barnes, Cast; Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: R
Notes: I think the problem is that I like redheads too much.
Title: I'll Be Home For Christmas- Chapter 7: Bruce
Author: yuuo
Word Count: 5318
Summary: Bucky decided to wear cargos, and nuts to Tony if he didn't like them.
Bucky decided to wear cargoes, and nuts to Tony if he didn't like them. They were easier to wear with his boots than jeans were. Maybe he should look into more than three pairs of shoes, actually. Something to file away for later.
He armed himself, his Beretta M9 comfortably holstered at the small of his back, and a knife that was small enough it'd almost be useless for anyone who didn't have the strength to really make it count was deposited into one of his thigh pockets.
Tony gave him that same critical look that he had the day before. "Did they even have those when you were around?" he asked.
"Once the war started, yeah. You remember I wear a lot of pockets normally anyway, right? These pockets aren't empty."
Tony went quiet, only glancing away as Steve came out of the hallway behind Bucky. Steve paused at Bucky's side, looking between Tony and Bucky and apparently deciding that it was best he didn't ask.
"How armed are you?" Tony asked. He didn't sound like he terribly disapproved, so Bucky wasn't worried that he would be told he couldn't wander around armed. "Because guns are going to weigh those pockets down."
Bucky flashed him an unpleasant smile. "Wouldn't you like to know." Then he shrugged. "Just a Beretta M9. And not in a pocket. And unless you count a knife that barely counts as one in my right thigh pocket as something worth bothering about, nothing else."
"Oh," Steve said. "That's what you were asking about. Yeah, Bucky got paranoid after Hydra decided to throw out incriminating information about him. It'd looked like they were leaving us alone, until that happened."
Tony made a conciliatory expression. "Fair enough." He eyed Steve. "What about you?"
"Bucky doesn't let me leave the apartment without him if I'm not carrying something," Steve said, rolling his eyes and giving Bucky a stare that wasn't quite annoyed, but wasn't quite not annoyed.
"If you don't like it, you can start carrying your shield, instead," Bucky said. "Hydra's killed us both once already, we don't need a repeat of history."
"He makes a good point," Tony said, one eyebrow raised as if he hadn't really considered that thought before. "But you'd look silly carrying around your shield everywhere. Not terribly subtle." He pointed at Bucky. "Design me something, JARVIS and I will put it together, something that's easier for you both to carry around."
Bucky jabbed his thumb in Steve's direction. "Maybe something for him. I like my Beretta."
Steve sighed in his general direction, but didn't say anything on the subject, instead, steering the conversation away. "We're ready, Tony. Let's go bother Bruce."
Tony got up off the couch. "Absolutely," he said, and headed for the door. "JARVIS, lock up after us." Something he didn't really have to say, JARVIS did that automatically anyway, but it obviously made him happy to order an artificial intelligence that he designed to obey him around, so Bucky didn't make a comment about it.
"Are you sure Bruce isn't busy?" Steve asked as they got to the elevators.
"Nope," Tony said. "But he likes me, unless it's really busy, he'll make time for us. Besides, it's not even nine in the morning, it can't possibly be that busy yet." He eyed Steve. "You two are the most likely to need his services around here anyway. I stay out of trouble." His face contorted slightly like something occurred to him. "Well, your personal guardians might need the medical center as often, if they follow you into trouble."
"Sharon said they were never able to follow us on jobs," Steve said as the elevator arrived on their floor and they stepped onto it.
"Good," Tony said. "JARVIS, medical center, if you please."
"Yes, sir," JARVIS said, and the doors closed, the elevator coming to life and taking them down a handful of floors.
Tony was silent as the numbers ticked by, until the elevator stopped and the doors opened. "This way, gentlemen." He led them down the hall, past a lobby and several open examination rooms that made Bucky incredibly uncomfortable, past rooms marked x-ray with warnings about the dangers, past rooms marked radiology centers, more lobbies with waiting rooms, a room marked lab, and further through the medical center to what looked like a secured area that required a scan to get through. The doors opened for them without Tony doing anything, and Bucky heavily suspected JARVIS in that.
The building was bigger than Bucky had realized, having not really gone out to explore beyond areas he needed. Eventually they came to what was marked "Banner Only" which Bucky had a feeling made Bruce feel tired all over, but Tony had insisted.
The room that door led them into was big, set up as a lab and exam room in one. "Welcome to the Avengers' personal medical center," Tony said. "Hey, Bruce!"
Bruce poked his head out from around a corner, much lower down than Bucky thought he'd be. "Oh, uh, hi, Tony." He nodded at Steve and Bucky. "Captain, Bucky." He wheeled on a somewhat short stool. Ah, that's why he seemed short. He got up and walked over to them, holding out his hand to Bucky. "It's nice to finally meet you in person."
Bucky took his hand. "Same," he said, then looked around. "This is all yours?"
Bruce sighed, taking off his glasses and giving Tony that 'tired all over' look that Bucky was expecting him to have. "It belongs to the Avengers," he said. "I just happen to be the Avengers' personal doctor. His idea to mark the door like that. Nurses come in and help me, obviously, if something happens. It hasn't been necessary yet, but it's only a matter of time with this group." He smiled. "Especially now that two mercenaries with somewhat regular work have joined us."
Steve grinned. "We don't tend to get too beat up," he said. "Some bumps and scrapes, nothing we need a doctor for."
Bruce put his glasses back on. "You never know," he said. He motioned for them to follow him further into the lab. "I, uh, I'll show you around, if you want." He looked at Tony. "You don't need a tour."
Tony looked offended. "And you think I would want to be left behind? Surely you jest, Doctor Banner."
Bruce sighed, shaking his head with a smile that proved he wasn't quite as exasperated as he was pretending to be. "Come on," he said, leading the three of them around. He pointed out a few machines that he'd developed with the help of Tony and a few other engineers that could dedicate more time than Tony could. There were exam areas, a surgical center- two, actually -and an area where it was clear that Bruce worked on developing medicines.
"I've been analyzing the chemicals used on you," he said, looking at Bucky. "I hope you don't mind, I moonlight as a biochemist. I'm mostly a doctor and a biophysicist that specializes in radioactive elements, but I do some work in this area. Lets me control what medicines do to my patients."
"Impressive laundry list," Bucky said. "What the hell kind of degree did you get to pull all that off?"
Bruce looked vaguely amused. "You know, most people around here don't ask for the specifics, they pretty much just settle on 'he's a smart guy'. But to answer your question, I double majored in biology and physics, then entered a program that let me get my PhD and MD at the same time for medical research. I was interested in trying to replicate the super soldier serum. Didn't work out so well, but it means I know a few things here and there."
If Bucky didn't know better, he'd almost swear that Tony was related to Bruce and was playing the proud big brother with how he was smiling. "He's my all-purpose science buddy."
There was that faint shake of a head and a smile that said Bruce was as amused as he was tired from Tony's antics. "What about you?" Bruce asked Bucky. "The only thing we know about you is that you're a soldier."
"I was a weapons designer for Stark Industries before the war," Bucky said, sticking his hands in his pockets. He nodded his head towards Tony. "You should've seen how that busted his brain when he found out."
Bruce chuckled. "I can imagine." Then he tilted his head. "What degree would that be? Something in engineering, I'm sure."
"Chemical engineering," Bucky said. When Tony and Bruce slowly looked at each other, Bucky suddenly knew what a lamb might feel in front of a pack of wolves. "What?"
"Chemistry?" Bruce's eyebrows raised.
"And engineering?" Tony looked like a pleased evil villain. "Bruce, I think we found our new best friend. Someone who can bridge our work!"
Steve groaned. "Thank you, now I'll be surrounded by science I can't keep up with, even in my own home."
Bucky didn't have to try hard to not laugh at Steve's expense, too busy trying to duck the predation of Tony and Bruce. "Guys, my degree is about eighty years out of date."
"We can catch you up," Tony said. "You both need to take some college classes, get some degrees. You can't stay mercenaries forever, you don't want to wander around without a proper, up to date degree."
Steve huffed in annoyance. "Well, I saw that one coming. And where exactly are we supposed to go to get these degrees? We're supposed to stay here for safety."
"There's some good schools nearby," Tony said. "We'll think of something. That's for later, though. We have a new playmate."
"Can I point out again that my degree is eighty years out of date?"
Before Tony said anything, Bruce, bless that man, cut in. "We'll work on that later," he said. "While I have you here, I'd like to at least mention the chemicals that were used on you. I'll need blood samples to get a better idea of what they did besides the similar physical effects as the super soldier serum, if you don't mind, but I won't force you to subject yourself to needles that aren't strictly medically necessary."
Bucky had almost rankled, sheerly as a knee jerk reaction, but Bruce's assurance that he wouldn't force it eased his nerves a bit. He took a couple breaths before answering. "Will it help make sure they didn't damage anything?"
"It should," Bruce said. "I make no guarantees, though. Those chemicals they used are beyond anything I've actually seen, so it'll be hard to tell. But I'll do my best."
Bucky considered that, shoving back his aversion to needles. "Some other time, but okay."
Bruce smiled. "I didn't mean right this minute, unless you wanted to just get it over with." He glanced at Steve. "I wouldn't mind a sample from you. The sample the SSR got from you right after the experiment didn't yield anything for them, but our science has improved since then, I might be able to tell more than they did, like how permanent it is. It seems to be so far, but I don't think we want any DNA breakdowns at the wrong time."
Steve looked a bit nervous at the prospect. "We'll come in soon, then," he said. "But I think Bucky had plans today."
Bucky shrugged. "Just a run down to the lower east side," he said. "Other than that, I'm free."
Bruce cocked his head to the side a bit. "What's down there?"
"A homeless shelter I'm volunteering at," Bucky said. "Or at least, I'm applying to."
"Good cause to work for," Bruce said. He looked at Tony, an amused look on his face. "You influenced him this year," he said. "The charity ball this year is raising money for the Humane Society."
While Tony shot both of them glares, Bucky laughed. "He told me."
Steve smothered a laugh of his own. "Really?"
"Don't say it, Spangles," Tony said. "You're showing up at children's hospitals in a patriotic uniform that you really need to replace. How old is that thing?"
"Uh." Steve frowned, thinking. "A little over seventy years."
Tony tsked. "It needs replacing. I can have something done up. At least a remake of the original, something made of similar material as your partner's uniform, something that'll be more useful."
"I'll consider it," Steve said. "I think the Smithsonian probably would appreciate the original back for their display. It's a bit beat up from the last time they had it, though."
"That makes it more valuable," Tony said, waving a hand dismissively. "It has more history to it now. Speaking of the Smithsonian, have you heard that they're planning a revamp to include the Winter Soldier in the Captain America exhibit?"
Bucky took in a deep breath and held it, counting to three silently before releasing it. "That's nice," he said. "I'm not giving any interviews."
"They might ask," Tony said. "They'll want information, especially since I doubt the government's going to give the public that full file, most definitely not to the Smithsonian." He looked thoughtful for a second. "There's no way the government will release that information at all, not when someone could theoretically duplicate the experiment, if they can dissect the chemicals and build the required machines. Nobody wants that."
There was a wonderful thought. The idea of someone making another Winter Soldier wasn't sitting well on Bucky's stomach. "Good luck," he said, forcing more confidence than he felt. "The only reason I was able to survive the first phases of the project was because of what Zola did in forty-three. And there's no records of that. They'd have to start with someone already experimented on, and hopefully with the right chemicals."
Actually, the truth of that statement soothed his nerves a bit.
Tony made a distracted noise that might've been agreement, might've been dissent, but was probably just a vague acknowledgement. "Either way, I don't think anyone having that information is good. We'll work on getting it out of their hands."
"We'll leave that to you," Steve said. "If it were just the physical records, we could get it ourselves, but if they don't have at least one digital copy now, I'll be very surprised. That might require more computer work than either of us are good at."
"Too bad it wouldn't be as easy as Kiev was," Tony said. "Just waltz in and take it."
"I'd rather not do another Kiev," Steve said. "You might've thought it wasn't so difficult, but you didn't see how big that group was before you got there."
"So you said," Tony said. "And you two still frighten me."
Before anyone could make a response to that, there was a beeping from the rough proximity of Bruce's wrist. He pulled back his sleeve to reveal a watch that Bucky had a feeling was far more than a regular watch. "I hate to shoo everyone away so quickly, but I have an appointment that just showed up." He looked at Tony. "I am not about to be bored all day, alone in a lab, when there are people here who could use a flu shot or a bottle of cough syrup to get through the day."
Tony shrugged, drawing back ever so slightly, clearly making a point of not arguing with Bruce in a way that suggested he didn't even have to make that point in the first place. "By all means, Doctor Banner, go tend to the sick and injured."
"Excuse me," Bruce said, slipping past the three of them and heading out of the set of rooms that Tony had dedicated to his personal use.
Tony pointed at Bucky. "You, I have some texts for you to read now, start catching you up with the twenty-first century's advances in chemical sciences. With your familiarity with modern weapons, I doubt we need to educate you in the engineering side, but we'll start somewhere."
Bucky gave that finger a look like he might bite it if it didn't move. Since Tony was fearless in some ways, Bucky assumed that finger wasn't moving, so he switched his gaze from the finger in his face to Tony. "Later," he said. "I want to get down to that shelter before it gets too crazy in that area."
"Fair enough." The finger was dropped. "I need to look through what you should read, send it to your tablet. You'll have plenty to do for awhile."
Bucky looked at Steve. "I'm sorry. I think I just got pulled into the Geek Squad."
Steve sighed. "It's fine. It'll be nice to see you get back into something besides fiction, history, and how many ways can we fulfill a contract that leaves behind the most dead bad guys."
Bucky shrugged. "Everyone needs a hobby."
"You need more," Steve said.
"Yes, Mother," Bucky said. "Am I free to go do my errand now?"
Steve looked at Tony, who just shook his head, staying out of it, then looked back at Bucky. "What, you're leaving me alone with him?"
"Hey!" Tony sounded offended.
"Deal with it," Bucky said. "I'm taking the work phone, since I know you can't stand the idea of me not being able to stay in touch if I'm out alone."
"I don't want to hear it, you make me walk around armed if I don't have you around," Steve said.
Tony intervened with one of those theatrical sighs he was so good at. "Okay, original odd couple, no marital fights in the medical center. I have thoroughly derailed your morning, mission accomplished. I have a new mission, so I will free you two to go squabble in private."
"How generous," Bucky said.
The three men parted ways, or rather, Steve and Bucky parted ways with Tony, and then further parted ways after Bucky had pulled on his coat and grabbed their work cell and some money for the cab. He told Steve to occupy his time with Sharon or something useful. Steve told him to get his ass in gear and get the hell out.
Bucky felt a little strange being out on his own; he really hadn't been left alone for a long time. There was usually someone at least relatively nearby for extraction when he was working with Hydra, and Steve only really left him alone at the apartment when he was working with Sam at the VA until they went into the mercenary business, and then they were only separated during missions when it was required, and never for long. Other than Steve sometimes running out on errands, they weren't usually far apart, just like in the field. There was only one relatively recent time he'd been left alone, and that was when he was living on the streets.
Well, at least he knew what it was like for the men he was hoping to help, being separated from all sources of support, without their buddies to keep them going.
The snow that had been so calming earlier was becoming annoying, falling a little heavier, and slushing up the streets, the traffic regular enough to keep it somewhat melting and well-traveled. Pedestrians were keeping the sidewalks equally ugly-looking. What joy it was to walk out in the winter weather. It was nice while inside with a big picture window to watch out of, but, as it turned out, it wasn't so fun to have to be out in.
Bucky paid for the cab once they'd reached the shelter and got out, tugging up his hood and pulling his scarf up over his nose. He wasn't going to be out in the wind long, but he had no idea how well heated the shelter was.
It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust from the almost blinding sunlight outside to the much dimmer inside lights of the shelter, and he blinked a couple times, clearing his vision. He studied the shelter. It looked like it amounted to all of one room, maybe two from the view from the front door; a kitchen at the far back that had an open serving window, with some very large, cafeteria-like tables near it, and the rest of the room from there almost all the way to the entrance were beds, some bunk beds, most just single beds. None of them looked nicer than a cheap dorm room bed, and they all sported a large number at the foot, starting with low numbers near the front. They lined the walls, leaving a large walkway between the two sides.
There were supposed to be a hundred and thirty-six beds. A quick count proved that wrong by one- number one thirty-six was missing, or rather, one of the ones in the middle. Of course it'd be off in the red instead of one heavy.
There were workers back in the kitchen, but it was otherwise empty. One spotted him, peering out from across the room into the harsh light he'd let in behind him until the door slammed shut behind him. "I'm sorry, sir, but we're just cleaning up from breakfast, the shelter's not going to be open to select a bed until this evening at five," she called from the kitchen.
Bucky pulled down his scarf. "I'm here to apply to volunteer, actually."
"Oh, bless you," she said. She said something to the other woman and who looked like a young man, maybe just out of his teen years, that were working with her, then left his view, coming out of a door off in the corner a bit. He noticed there was another door in the other corner, and he had a feeling that one probably led to the bathrooms and showers.
The woman that bustled towards him was a redhead, and he wondered why there were suddenly so many redheads in his life- Maggie was a redhead, so was Natasha, and there'd been that MP at Fort Meade. And his brother had been partners with a redhead. It was an eerie pattern that was starting to creep him out. She held out her hand. "Jennie Brennan. Welcome to Cohen Mercy Mission, Mister..?"
"James Barnes," he said, taking her hand, keeping his grip light in case she wanted to yank her hand away if she happened to click the association of his name to his face, both of which had been plastered in the news a lot since shortly before Thanksgiving.
Jennie stopped and studied him, but didn't withdraw her hand. "That James Barnes, or is this another common case of a New Yorker thinking they just met a celebrity?"
Well, she wasn't scared off, that was a point in her favor. He shrugged, trying to smile disarmingly. "No thinking involved this time. I'm the real one. If you think that'd cause a problem with me volunteering, lemme know now."
She shook her head, finally dropping her hand. "No, not at all, Mister Barnes. It's nice to see a vet coming in to help us out. Especially one who got abandoned for so long. It'd be very easy for you to turn your back on anything to do with the military."
He shook his head slightly. "I didn't get abandoned. And even if I had been, that doesn't mean these guys should be."
Jennie smiled. "I'm glad to hear that, no matter who says it." She turned, motioning for him to follow. "Come on, we'll get you an application. Personally, I think your service to the country is enough, but if nothing else, we need your availability."
Bucky followed her, counting the beds as they went by. "What happened to number fifty-three?"
She paused and looked at the empty space, then looked back at him. "The frame broke from the force of a particularly drunk gentleman masturbating. The mattress is getting replaced. We won't make anyone sleep in that."
"Ah." What else was he supposed to say to that?
Jennie looked amused. "Did that make you uncomfortable?"
He hesitated. "I'm still not used to those subjects coming up in mixed company. Social graces have changed since I was around." He cleared his throat. "That doesn't happen often, does it?"
"Oh no," she said, nodding her head in the direction of the tables before resuming walking. "It happens sometimes, but it's not a common thing, no. Most guys, they're so tired and cold from being out on the streets that they get in here, they get a hot meal in them, they lay down on a real bed, with a real pillow and real blankets, in a heated room, and they pretty much just pass out. It's mostly quiet at night. But incidents like that do happen, and since some of the staff is female, we prefer having some security around."
"That's what I was hoping to hear," he said. "I don't know how good I'd be anywhere else, but I'm good at security details."
"Then that's where I'll put you."
"You're in charge?"
Jennie raised an eyebrow at him. "Were you expecting an older man?"
Bucky frowned. "No, not necessarily. I wasn't sure what to expect." He looked around, looking for signs of religious paraphernalia. Most homeless shelters he'd encountered were church-run, which was fine, but he was surprised to find not one single crucifix or picture of Jesus. "Is this a religious shelter?"
"Hm?" Jennie stopped at a table, looking at him. "No, not really. My father and I founded this place about twenty-five years ago, and we did it based on our beliefs, but we knew that so many vets in these positions feel like God's abandoned them that trying to force them to take a Bible and attend a morning service wasn't going to help them. It's much better to show Jesus's love than to talk about it." She tilted her head. "Is that a problem?"
"What? No." He shook his head. "I just spent some time on the streets in DC, and I hadn't found any that hadn't been run by a church or religious organization. Kinda surprised to see one that isn't, that's all."
She smiled. "Even atheists need a warm bed and a good meal. Here." She pulled out a chair for him. "Sit, I'll go get you an application. It's formality; as far as I'm concerned, you're already one of our volunteers, I just need to know what nights you're available. Security is an all-night job, just so you know. If that's not workable for you, we can put you in the kitchen, or on cleaning. With it being the Christmas season, we actually have enough kitchen staff, though."
"Security's fine. I don't have a regular day job, so I can afford to change my sleep schedule a bit." He sat down, glancing around again.
"Good. I'll be right back." She walked around the tables and through the door she'd come out of earlier.
Bucky watched the other two kitchen workers, or at least, the two he could see, but he heard sounds of others, dishes clanking and cupboards slamming shut. The other woman, a scrawny and elderly black woman, kept right on working as if he weren't even there. She worked around so many guys who crawled in on the streets, she had no reason to give him a second look, especially not when other than the fact that his pants were clean and he was, at the moment, shaven, he probably looked like a lot of the guys that came in, a rather scruffy old coat and scarf, and hair that was probably a bit messy from the hood it'd been flattened under.
With that thought, he made a half-hearted attempt at taming anything that had decided to stick up when his hood was pulled back.
The younger man was watching him while trying to clean a large pot, or maybe trying to watch him while cleaning the pot. One way or another. He looked like maybe he was Native, or at least in part, with thick black hair he wore long. Bucky raised an eyebrow slightly at him, and the man stopped pot scrubbing, raising an eyebrow right back. Bucky grinned, pleased that the man wasn't being off-put by him. The man smiled in return, then went back to his work.
Jennie returned a few minutes later, after Bucky had started tapping his finger on the table, the metal not making its usual noise, muffled by his glove. He straightened as she sat down across from him, sliding a piece of paper over and a pen.
"You can ignore the top part," she said. "You're already hired, or would be, if we weren't a volunteer organization. I just need you to fill in the calendar. We go on a month by month basis, so around the twenty-eighth, we'll ask you if you're going to stay on past the holidays, and if you are, to fill out a calendar for January as best as you can. I know work schedules can be a bit difficult to plan for, especially for contract workers like yourself."
He grabbed the pen, looking at the calendar and the instructions for how to fill it out. It was simple, just mark an 'x' over the days he couldn't work, an 'm' for morning only, an 'e' for evening only, neither of which were relative for him, since he would be doing an all night job. "What kind of a tight spot would it leave you guys in if a contract came in on a day I'm scheduled?"
Jennie smiled a bit sadly. "Honestly, it wouldn't be good, but we don't have only one person around at night, so we could live. And we have a few volunteers who are on-call that we can ask to cover. Work comes first, you can't help the homeless if you're not bringing in your own income so you don't join them."
Bucky made a thoughtful noise, x-ing out the nineteenth. "I'm not sure what's going on with Christmas Eve and Christmas yet," he said. "I can do one or the other, but I'm not sure which. I haven't talked to my brother about what day he wants to come visit."
"Understandable," she said. "Just let me know as soon as you can. Or, if he wants, he can come join you here. It can be a new family tradition." She didn't look serious about that, a coy smile on her face.
He couldn't help but return that smile. "My brother is an eighty some year old retired vet. He probably doesn't have enough patience to put up with both my sorry self and these guys at the same time."
"What war did he fight in?" she asked, that coy smile turning more serious.
"He was a Navy boy in Korea," Bucky said, sliding the pen and paper back over to her. "Which means he did diddly squat, except shooting at supply boats now and again."
Jennie took the pen and paper, looking over the calendar. "And I bet you don't let him forget it," she said, a bit distracted. "You have open availability for every day except the nineteenth and a question mark on Christmas and Christmas Eve. Are you sure you want to work that much?"
"In the name of not completely switching to a night schedule, I should probably say don't put me every night, but you can always put me on the nights you need me the most, and on-call for the other nights."
"Then that's what we'll do," she said, and held out her hand. "Thank you, Mister Barnes. I'll give you a call when I've got the schedule sorted out."
Bucky took her hand. "Thank you, ma'am."