Archive of Our Own ^beta

I don't get tired. What complete and utter Bucky Barnes bullshit, patent pending.

Why had he even said that to Alexei? I don’t get tired. What the hell. It had been a lie as he was saying it, and now... Now, five-ish hours after Val's impromptu press conference and the realization that everything he'd been working towards for the past two years was, thanks to no one but himself, absolutely FUBAR, he was dead on his feet.

At least he wasn't the only one.

As Val dropped them off at their supposed new headquarters (referred to as the Watchtower), she’d given them a rundown that sounded a hell of a lot like orders. They were meant to, in her words, sit their asses down, not do anything stupid, and wait until they were called for. Yelena —the blonde one, Natasha's sister— made some sort of rude comment under her breath that Val had ignored on her way to the exit, but, all in all, they were too exhausted to argue.

Mostly.

”Walker.” Yelena tipped her head back, drawing the name out with equal parts frustration and annoyance. “What did I say about shoes?”

“You’re not the boss of me,” John shot back from his spot on the floor, one boot off, the other halfway to it. “I’ve had a long day, I’m taking my goddamn shoes off.”

“Yeah, well, your feet smell like ass.” The girl in the suit, the one who could phase through walls, craned her neck to glare at John from a better angle. Bucky was pretty sure her name was Ava; he’d heard it twice now (both from Yelena), but he steered away from using it just to be sure. She and Yelena had claimed the only couch (only piece of furniture, full stop) in the room Val left them in, and were sitting on it facing each other, feet (shoes very much on) nearly touching in the middle.

Alexei, the Soviet-era super soldier, was on his back parallel to John. He’d collapsed the second they’d been shown the room, and hadn’t moved since. If Bucky concentrated, he could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady. Still alive, which was good. Sleeping, possibly. Maybe he was just really relaxed, which, if that was the case, Bucky had never been more jealous of anyone in his life.

The kid, Bob, was cross-legged on the floor next to Yelena’s side of the couch, fingers a nervous tangle in his lap, head slightly cocked to the side as he watched the rest of them, silent, wide-eyed. He hadn’t said much since the press conference ambush, but Bucky couldn’t blame him for that.

As for Bucky, he was on the floor, too. He kept his back to the cabinets lining the far wall, legs splayed in front of him. It was a weird room they were corralled into; it had a kitchenette with a table but no chairs, one couch, and a huge area with a floor made of a bouncy, rubber material. It was like the room hadn’t been able to decide whether it wanted to be a two-star hotel or a training room, and decided to be the most mediocre parts of both.

Most of the walls on the far end, the training room side, were made of glass. Huge, soaring windows that didn’t show much— it was nearing two in the morning. Dark clouds covered most of the sky; they were high up enough that most of Manhattan glittered below them.

“We all smell like ass.” John removed his other boot, lining it up with its twin beside him. “My feet can’t possibly be worse than Alexei’s breath.”

“No toothbrush,” Alexei grunted. Not sleeping, then.

“I feel like I’m living in your shoe,” Yelena said.

“Your name’s Alexei?” Bob piped up, peering around the couch to get a better look at him. Yelena sat up straighter.

“Oh, shit.” She swung her legs over the side of the couch. “Bob, who all don’t you know? Me and Walker and Ava from the vault—“ (Her name was Ava!) “The sleepy one over there’s Alexei…”

Alexei raised one fist in the air. “Lena’s dad!”

“My dad,” Yelena relented, and gestured across the room. “And that’s Bucky.”

“Yeah.” Bob was firmly looking anywhere in the room but at Bucky. "I know who Bucky Barnes is."

Alexei lifted himself up on one elbow. "Do you know Red Guardian?"

"No..." Bob drew it out, his eyes still flickering around the room like a prey animal, like somewhere in the shadows lurked a nightmare or worse. He claimed to not remember his time as the Void, or battling the shame rooms, but it still lived inside him, knit into every stitch of the threadbare blue sweater he wore like steel plate armor. "Should I?"

This was mostly aimed towards Yelena, who rolled her eyes.

"Don't mind him, Bob. Or him, either." She jerked her head at Bucky. "He only seems intimidating on the outside and about a million layers deep, but under all that..." She waggled her fingers like she was sprinkling glitter. "All fluff."

"I don't think we know the same person," John muttered. Bucky didn't even look over at him. If he gave John's comment the time of day now, it was going to turn into giving John's comments the time of day all the time, and that sounded fucking exhausting. Somehow, more exhausting than this entire never ending day had been.

He did make a conscious effort to stop looking directly at Bob. He was maybe the most confusing thing in the room, and, ever since the Void, Bucky had been making a valiant attempt to mentally unravel what, exactly, he was, but Sam was always trying to get him to stop staring. Maybe that’s what was making the kid all fidgety. He aimed his stare at the tile floor under his shoes.

Jesus Christ, his boots were dirty.

The room settled into silence. Bucky knew it was probably up to him to get everyone on their feet again, to poke through this new to them, half-constructed building to find, at the very least, somewhere to sleep that wasn't this strange hotel lobby slash training area, but…

He tilted his head back to rest it against the cabinet door. Closed his eyes. He shouldn't fall asleep, but he'd be perfectly fine sleeping here, on the kitchenette tile floor, with most of the weapons he owned still strapped to his person. It wasn't the worst place he'd ever slept, not by a long shot. It might even make the top ten. But he couldn’t. If he fell asleep, he'd fall right back into it.

In his regular everyday nightmares, he lived his life over and over again. Vividly, gruesomely. It was always his own eyes he saw through, his own hands (one always a bright, shining silver) covered in churned mud or gunpowder or gore. His memory grabbing him, fingers sinking deep into his brain, and shaking. Screaming— remember this.

This is important.

Don't forget it again.

He didn’t want to. With the nightmares, how could he?

But when the Void deposited him into a HYDRA facility, one of hundreds he'd been programmed and mind wiped and frozen in, he'd come face to face with the version of himself he only became in his nightmares. Dressed in all black like a shadow, save for one slice of gleaming silver and blood red. A mask, a muzzle, cutting into the lower half of his face. The same blue eyes Bucky saw every time he looked into a mirror, but empty. Lifeless. More of a void than anything engulfing New York topside.

I can tell him that— was Bucky's first, fragmented, idiotic thought before a voice —”Солдат?”— echoed through the chamber. The Winter Soldier muttered something under his breath, muffled by the mask, but Bucky didn’t need to hear it clearly to know exactly what he said. It echoed in his nightmares.

я готов отвечать.

The Winter Soldier unsheathed his knives and charged.

Bucky scrambled backwards, which would've been embarrassing if he wasn't just fighting himself in some sort of shadow Void realm, but as soon as he found his footing he was right back in it. They exchanged blows like a dance, a choreographed routine. The silver arm was heavier, and Bucky used that to his advantage as he ducked and feinted, avoiding the opposing blur of fists and blades, avoiding looking himself in the eyes.

It felt like the entire room was fighting against him. The floor tripped him up, the ceiling lights were blinding, every surface was either slippery-slick or hard enough to crush bone. The Winter Soldier’s hits landed harder. He moved quicker. It felt like a dream, like a nightmare— Bucky never moved right in his nightmares, that was one of the only tells he wasn’t living in reality.

When the Winter Soldier pulled him backwards, slamming his shoulder blades into the metal grate hard enough to rend skin from bone, he knew what Sam had felt while fighting him. When the Winter Soldier drove his fist into the side of Bucky's head, he knew the exact level of pain he had dealt Steve on top of that helicarrier. And when cold metal wrapped around his throat, when his breathing hitched and slowed, fighting for every gasp of air…

He became his victims. Every single one, every drop of blood on his hands. Stop fighting. The thought echoed. He could give in, he could join them. That would end it, all of it. The longing to fix the irreparable, the endless nights, the nightmares, the work. It was grueling. It could be over.

Bucky bared his teeth, snarling— the same expression he knew was hiding under the Winter Soldier’s mask, and met his own eyes.

They weren’t his own. They were dead. Empty. Purposeless, futile. That wasn’t him anymore. He was lost, but he wasn’t doomed.

Bucky grabbed the side of the Winter Soldier’s head with his metal arm, the lighter, better version, the gift from Wakanda and her people, and tore, sending the mask flying and flipping the Winter Soldier onto his back. They both gasped in sync, the Winter Soldier for air as Bucky bore down onto his neck, and Bucky as he saw…

The floor under his knees was buffed to perfection, shining his own terrifying, furious face back at him.

How fast he slips back into old habits…

“This isn’t right,” he managed to choke out, and released the Winter Soldier, who wriggled out from under his grasp and came back swinging, one punch after the other. Of course. Why wouldn’t he? Bucky deflected each blow as he scanned the room, for something, anything…

There. In the reflection of the cryo chamber— Yelena's blonde head, and the other one, the one they were trying to save. They were under attack, too. He dodged another swing of the Winter Soldier’s metal arm and pushed past him so he could get the clearest path possible.

“It gets better,” he said, didn’t wait to see if anything even registered behind the glassy, empty eyes of his old self, and threw himself through the glass panel of the cryo chamber. In the blink of an eye he was somewhere new, fighting inanimate objects back-to-back with Alexei, hustling Yelena and Bob along as John punched the lights out of a red-faced man with Bob’s same nose and chin, pointing Ava towards the exit before taking on, inexplicably, someone in a chicken costume, all for—

A deep, rumbling growl shook the very floor of the Watchtower. Bucky was on his feet in an instant, hand on his thigh holster, as John scrambled to stand, too. A little slower on the draw, Bucky observed (smugly) as Yelena tilted her head back and sighed to the ceiling.

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

“What was that noise?” John shot back. Bob curled in on himself more, if that was even possible.

“Me?”

“His stomach’s growling, dipshits.” Yelena hadn’t moved from her head tilted back position. “Remember food? That was nice, right? At some point, eating it? So you don’t starve to death?”

Bucky leaned back against the cabinets. Now that the shock of adrenaline had wiped away a good bit of the previous exhaustion, he could absolutely see where Bob’s (very loud) stomach was coming from.

“Yes,” he said. Yelena blew a raspberry towards the ceiling.

“Maybe we get some?”

Alexei raised his head, suddenly alive. “Dinner?”

“It’s two in the morning,” Ava said. “More like early breakfast.”

“This is usually when I have lunch,” Bob offered from his curled up position. John shrugged.

“I could eat.”

“There has to be food in this place somewhere,” Bucky said. “Ava, maybe you could—“

She rolled off of the couch, flipping her helmet apparatus down over her face. “On it.”

She phased through the wall as Yelena stretched out on the couch, moving her legs into what had been Ava’s space.

“I’d kill for a hot dog,” she said. “A really good one. With like… All the shit on top.”

“I’m not a big relish guy,” Bob said. She flipped over until they were nearly nose-to-nose.

“That’s sacrilege, Bob.”

“Highly doubt this place has a made-to-order hot dog stand,” John said. “It’s barely standing as-is.”

Ava phased back into the room, hands devastatingly empty save for a bottle and a very crumpled napkin. She made a face.

"Most of Val's floors are blocked off." She handed the vodka bottle, just over half full, to Alexei, who gasped and grabbed for it. "We have all the alcohol we could ever want from the bar downstairs, and this."

As she held out the napkin, it fell away to reveal a small pile of mostly shriveled olives, one pickle, and two lemon wedges (dry). John crossed his arms.

"Garnishes?"

"All I could find." Ava put the napkin on the floor, in what was more or less the middle of their lopsided circle, and pushed Yelena's feet out of the way to claim her spot on the couch again. Alexei took an extended pull from the vodka bottle.

"You are a saint among humans, Ghost Ava."

"Just don't piss it out into a Big Gulp cup," Ava said, and, simultaneously, both John and Yelena made the same laugh-snort noise. Bucky glanced at Bob; Bob glanced at him. He lifted one shoulder, a very who the hell knows sort of gesture.

"I actually kind of miss that fucking limo," John said. "At least the sound system was good."

Yelena attempted to poke her feet into Ava's lap, and was immediately smacked for her trouble. "The air conditioning didn't work for shit, though."

"My limo was magnificent." Alexei finally came up for air. "She went out in a blaze of glory."

"What happened to it?" Bob asked. He pulled the napkin closer and, inexplicably, took one of the lemons.

"Bucky flipped it," John said, "with us inside."

Bob's eyes went wide, half a lemon wedge dangling out of his mouth. At least he was looking at Bucky now, and not curled into a little ball. "Seriously?"

"You all look fine to me," Bucky said. Alexei passed the vodka to John, who sniffed it, knit his eyebrows together, and took a pull.

"Emotional damages, Mr. Soldier." Alexei tapped his breastplate. "In here."

"For fuck's sake, Val buys shit booze," John said.

Bob’s stomach growled again, somehow louder than last time, echoing through the room. Bucky couldn’t even blame him. The olives on that napkin were honestly starting to look like a five course meal; he’d eaten worse than bar garnishes, so might as well—

“This is ridiculous,” he said, pushing off the counter before he could be tempted by four olives that looked older than he was. “I’m leaving.”

Instantaneously, he was hit with five different wide-eyed, confused expressions.

“We’re supposed to stay here, I think.” Yelena.

“Together.” Bob, echoing her, quietly.

”Team.” Alexei, quieter still.

“I’m going to get food,” Bucky said. “Real food. For all of us. I’m coming back.”

“With what money?” Ava asked, which was, unfortunately, a good point. Alexei dug in one of the many pockets of his suit.

“I will provide,” he said, tossing a handful of crumpled bills onto the floor. One rolled on top of the garnish napkin, which again, unfortunately, didn’t make it any less appealing. Another handful from another pocket. “Limo driving tip jar does very well.”

Yelena rolled off the couch and gathered the money, smoothing the bills out onto her leg one by one. “Hooray, we’re nine dollars richer. Anyone else?”

“I don’t bring any identifiers on missions,” John said. “Or cash. I’m not stupid.”

“If I put anything in the pockets of my suit it gets fucked up,” Ava said. Bob twisted his fingers together.

“I woke up in a mountain in my pajamas, so.”

Yelena rolled her eyes. “And I am, as per usual, flat broke. Isn’t this fantastic.”

“I need my jacket,” Bucky said. His wallet was inaccessible (apartment in DC, regrettably for the same reasons as John), but before he’d left for Utah, he’d stashed something for emergencies in one of his jacket’s innermost pockets. He couldn’t remember how much, but it had to be more than nine dollars. “Ava, did you see it when you were raiding the bar for olives?”

She didn’t answer, but flipped her mask back on and phased out of the room and back in an instant. She tossed the jacket to him, snatched the wad of bills out of Yelena’s hands, and began counting it for herself.

He didn’t bother with the outside pockets, he never kept anything there. But the first pocket on the left yielded a knife, a tube of beeswax lip balm (gift from Sam), and the keys to the bike. The second pocket on the left had a crumpled receipt from the best smoothie place in DC, his burner flip phone (his real one was also in the apartment with his wallet), and another knife. The first pocket on the right had a pen, a few coins, two more smoothie receipts, and three cough drops (also from Sam). But the final pocket—

Bucky held up the bills triumphantly, a twenty and a five. Yelena rolled her eyes for the thousandth time.

“Thirty-four dollars. This isn’t the sixteen hundreds anymore, Bucky; I think even breathing air in America costs more than that.”

“Hush, Lena.” Alexei got to his feet and held out his hand to help John up, who took it reluctantly. Bob scrambled to his feet, too, as Yelena stood and kicked Ava’s shin lightly until she huffed out a sigh and joined them. “We take the streets of New York City by storm. We find the sustenance, we eat the sustenance, as a team! As Thunderbolts!”

“I’m just going to go,” Bucky said. “I’ll get a pizza or something and be back in fifteen minutes.”

“I want a hot dog,” Yelena said.

“Yeah, well, I’m not taking orders, so—”

“I’d kill a stromboli right now,” John said. Alexei crossed his arms.

“Sweet and sour chicken, pork fried rice, egg roll, egg drop soup.”

Ava cocked her head. “Did you just recite your Chinese takeout order?”

“China Moon, best in Delaware.”

“Actually, yeah, you know what? I could go for beef and broccoli. That sounds incredible. What else did you say? Egg drop soup?”

Alexei made a mmm sound deep in his throat. “You ever have? It’s warm, comforting, egg. All sorts of things.”

Ava’s brows raised, impressed. “That sounds delicious. I’m in.”

“Forget Chinese,” John said, “Alexei, have you ever had stromboli? It’s like a folded up pizza?” Alexei shook his head, wide-eyed at the prospect of a new way to transport meat, cheese, and sauce. “Holy shit, man, you’re gonna love it.”

“I’m allergic to carrots,” Bob said, impromptu of nothing.

”Hot dog,” Yelena insisted.

“Sit down,” Bucky said. “All of you. I’ll be right back.”

He took a step towards the door, and, like they’d practiced, the rest of them took a synchronized step, too. Jesus Christ.

“Really?”

“Team,” Alexei whispered.

Ava shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not a bad idea to stick together. What if something else happens?”

“I don’t think you’re winning this one, Bucky,” John said. Bucky allowed himself one brief memory of how it felt to break John’s arm (satisfying, cathartic) before letting out a heavy breath and turning to the door.

“Well, come on, then. Let’s go.”

—

“Did you have to bring that shield?”

“C’mon, Ava, it’s two in the morning. It’s dark as shit out here. What if we get jumped?”

“What could you possibly do to an attacker with a fucking taco?”

“Maybe if someone hadn’t bent it to hell during a fight he can’t even remember, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Sorry, Walker.”

“Jesus, Bob, you’ve said it a million times. It’s fine.”

“Doesn’t sound like it’s fine, John, it sounds like you’re being a little pissbaby about it.”

“Lena, you are acting like grumpy bear. How can I help?”

“Oh my god, Alexei, call me grumpy bear one more time—”

“The bear is usually grumpy because the bear is hungry. Is this right?”

“If I’m not mistaken, I think we’re all hungry.”

“Yes, Ghost Ava, but only Lena is grumpy be— Ow, no need to hit your dad, grumpy bear!”

“Oh, I’m going to—”

“For the love of shit.” Bucky turned around, arms out, and the rest of the Thunderbolts (he did not just refer to them collectively as Thunderbolts, he was going to walk into the East River and not walk back out) froze in their tracks. “It’s been a long day. Maybe we try silence for a while?”

Alexei saluted, which Bucky did not appreciate, but there was no more talking as they continued on, which he did. He led them across streets and down alleys; every time they passed a still-open pizza place (there were quite a few), Yelena would cough hot dog under her breath and force them to forge ahead. He took his burner phone out of the jacket’s inner pocket and flipped it open; one message. He’d gotten it right after Val’s impromptu (stupid) press conference, and it was from an unsaved number. He didn’t save his friends’ numbers in his burner.

Sam had sent one text, said one word. Seriously?

Bucky held the phone tight in his hand as the text lit up the small screen. He hadn’t responded. What was he supposed to say? Nothing about what Sam had seen on TV was easily explainable, especially at two in the morning on his burner phone in the middle of New York City. He knew how it looked. He knew exactly what Sam was feeling.

Probably exactly what Bucky felt when Sam had given up the shield. Probably exactly what Bucky felt the first time he’d seen John Walker holding it.

It wasn’t a good feeling. Bucky closed the phone and slipped it back into his jacket. Apparently not fast enough, because Yelena barked out a raspy laugh.

“I was just kidding about the sixteen hundreds thing earlier,” she said. “But are you seriously using a flip phone, Bucky? Are you okay? Should I call LifeAlert?”

Bucky rolled his eyes (only because he was in front and no one else could see), and didn’t answer. It was none of her business what kind of phone he used, and he was not getting into the explanation of his tech acumen versus Steve Rogers’. Easier for people to believe they were the same, that the two super soldiers from the past struggled the same ways, had the same setbacks. In reality, and he’d only explained this to Sam begrudgingly over beers after the whole Flagsmashers incident, he was able to adapt. To anything, anywhere. Weapons, languages, technology. He hadn’t been on ice the way Steve had, he’d been trained. Honed.

But it was always easier to let people think what they wanted to.

“LifeAlert?” Ava asked. Yelena scoffed.

“You know… Those commercials. The old people. I’ve fallen and I can’t get up—”

“I think we all needed LifeAlert earlier today,” Bucky said without looking back. “My memory might be going, but who’s Widow’s Bites didn’t make a damn dent in Sentry?”

Alexei made a low oooh noise as Ava snickered, and even John let out a loud laugh, even though he had no room to talk with his ridiculous taco shield. It quickly devolved into jabs thrown back and forth about their fight (if it could even be called that) with Sentry, while Bob cringed in the middle of it all.

Bucky didn’t turn around to check, but he was pretty sure that’s what Bob was doing.

“The worst was Alexei,” John insisted, after Ava made her thirtieth jab about his shield, open-handed slapping it loud enough the suit-on-metal noise reverberated down whatever dark alley they were walking down now. “He got flung out a goddamn window.”

“Are we seriously ignoring how Bucky got beat with his own arm?” Yelena asked. Alexei sniffled dramatically.

“Lena! Defending your dad!”

“I’m not defending you, I’m just bringing up an important argument.”

”Bucky Barnes is shit at fighting doesn’t hold a lot of water as an argument,” Bob piped up. Yelena gasped, followed by a thudding noise, presumably her hand slapped over her heart. He made a humming noise, an I’m thinking noise. “Although, you all kind of sucked.”

“Shut the fuck up, Bob,” John said, “you don’t even remember it.”

“None of your hits landing? Yeah, I remember that.”

“Oh, shit!” Yelena’s voice echoed brightly as their alley dissolved into a cacophony of snorting laughter, Alexei ooohing, and John attempting to defend himself. Even Bucky cracked a tiny little smirk, turning his head enough to make damn sure that John saw it.

“Are you really starting to remember all that happened earlier today?” Ava asked. Bob made a noncommittal noise.

“All the Sentry stuff feels… I don’t know. Bright, I guess. Loud. Fast. I think that’s why it’s hard to remember, it was a lot, all at once. But I do remember most of it, at least bits and pieces. Did I dye my hair?”

“Yes,” Yelena said.

“Blonde,” Alexei said.

“And it was godawful,” Ava added. “Much better now.”

“There’s only room for one blonde on the team,” John said. “And it’s me.”

Ava snorted. “You definitely are the Alpha Blonde.”

“Hey,” Yelena butted in. “What about—”

“You dye your hair, too,” John said as she blew a raspberry at him. “We all see those roots.”

“Bob, do you remember any of the other stuff?” Bucky asked as the alley spat them onto a wide stretch of wooden dock suspended above the East River. It was darker here. Nothing was open and all of the offices, businesses, and buildings were shuttered for the night. Even the streetlamps seemed to be in bed; for every one that was lit, another two were turned off or barely flickering. Below them, the river sloshed quietly. “Anything in the…”

“Void rooms?” Yelena.

“Scary jungle gyms of disgrace?” Alexei.

“Fucked up family reunion?” Ava.

“Chicken battle?” John.

Bucky stopped underneath one of the dimmer street lights and, like it was natural, they all circled up.

“Yeah, that,” he said.

Bob twisted his fingers together. “All the stuff after Sentry is still fuzzy. It gets like that a lot, though. In here.” He gestured to his head. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Bucky said. “We got through it. Right?”

Hums and murmurs of affirmation rippled through their circle. Alexei threw an arm around Bob’s shoulder and pulled him close; he squirmed a bit at first, but seemed to actually melt into it a little.

“This is our Bob,” Alexei declared to no one. “He’s a very good Bob!”

“Let him go,” Yelena said, half-laughing. “You’re killing our Bob.”

“I’m fine,” Bob choked out.

“Not to be a bummer or anything, but…” John spun around in an exaggerated circle. “I’m not seeing anything out here that even looks remotely like a stromboli.”

“You’re always a bummer,” Yelena said as Ava crossed her arms.

“Your fuckass shield looks kind of like a stromboli.”

“There really is no food out here.” Bucky looked up and down their stretch of dock; nothing but a few boats tied far below them, the dark storefronts, and a slice of moon fighting through smog and glinting off the water. “I say we head back the way we came, get as many pizzas as thirty-four dollars gets us, and go to the Watchtower.”

Yelena rolled her eyes. “We get it, you love pizza. For fuck’s sake.”

“It’s cheap and filling,” Bucky argued, “and we’re in New York.” She stuck her tongue out at him as Bob tugged his sweater over his face, exposing most of his torso.

“I’m about to eat John’s shield,” he mumbled through the layers of fabric. Yelena jabbed him in the (bare) stomach hard enough that he doubled over. “God, Yelena, what gives?”

“We’re going back.” Bucky turned, facing the alley again. “We’ll find something, somewhere, and if all else fails, we’ll all share John’s shield.”

“I call a middle piece,” Ava said, falling in step beside Bucky as Bob hurried to walk on his other side. They traversed the boards quickly, the damp wood creaking under their various military-style boots and Bob’s sneakers, but under that was a different sort of noise. A soft, barely-perceptible… Bucky halted in his tracks, and John ran into his back.

“Jesus, Bucky, some warning next time.”

“Shut up, Walker. Everyone, be quiet.”

“We are quiet,” Yelena said. Alexei hushed her, louder than she’d spoken.

“What is it?” Bob asked. John rolled his eyes.

“How are we supposed to know if you keep talking?”

“Oh my god,” Ava muttered.

Bucky distanced himself from the group in a few quick strides, bending lower to the dock as he listened intently. There it was again! He couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it was something.

“I think it’s under the dock,” he said.

"Okay, Bucky, we get it. We'll go get pizza." Yelena nudged Ava's side with her elbow. "This guy. Acting senile to get what he wants." She tilted her head. "I kind of respect it."

"I'm not senile," Bucky grunted as he dropped to his knees, pressing his ear to a crack in the boards. "There's something down here—"

"Hold on," John said. Of fucking course it was John. "I can hear it, too. It's, like, a really faint..." He made a chirping noise which, oddly enough, was incredibly accurate, and bent over to listen closer, too. Alexei frowned.

"I heard weird noise, too. I just thought it was a bird," he said. "Or someone's phone."

"Trapped under the boards?" John shot back.

"I still think you're all whacko," Ava said. Alexei fully laid down on the dock, trying to see through one of the slats as Yelena put her hands on her hips.

"Is this some weird super soldier serum inside joke? Because you're making Bob nervous."

Bucky glanced over his shoulder at Bob, who's face was plastered with what could only be called a shit eating grin.

"You guys look stupid," he said.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Robert," John managed to get out. He was laying flat now, too, and every few seconds he army crawled an inch or two further.

"He's fallen and he can't get up," Ava deadpanned, and both Yelena and Bob collapsed onto each other in a fit of giggles. The chirp noise echoed again, louder this time.

"Did you hear that one Bucky?" John asked. Alexei pointed to a space near Bucky's feet.

"There!"

"I actually did hear it this time," Ava admitted. Yelena looked betrayed.

"Don't join them!"

"I didn't want to, but..." She took a few steps until she was near where Alexei had pointed to. "I think it came from around here."

John, now on his hands and knees, crawled over and put his eye to the crack in the boards. "I can't see anything. Does anyone have a phone flashlight or something?"

Bucky took out his flip phone and held the glowing screen against the boards. John jerked his head back.

"Not in my eye—"

"Get over it, Walker," Bucky said, pushing him out of the way so he could look into the same spot. There was something moving down there, but he couldn't tell exactly what it was. "Whatever it is, it's alive."

Alexei raised his arms. "Say the word, Mr. Soldier, and I will tear apart this dock piece by piece!"

"I don't know what it is," Bucky muttered, trying to shine the dim light closer but only getting it into his own eye instead. "I wonder if..."

He pocketed his phone again and was on his feet in an instant, striding over to the edge of the dock with the rest of the group in his wake. Sure enough, there were openings underneath the boards, small, square holes that spanned the width of the dock. He stripped off his jacket, holding it out to John, who passed it to Bob, who draped it over his head.

"What are you doing?" Yelena asked as he grabbed hold of the dock with his metal arm, and slowly lowered himself over the edge until he was hanging by his fingertips over the East River. Everyone else gathered above him, watching and waiting.

For what, he still didn't know.

It was easier now to see under the dock, and his vision had been good even before the serum. A tiny lump huddled, shaking and shivering, behind a half-rotted fish carcass as big as it was. Slowly, cautiously, it raised its head and met Bucky's eyes with its own ice blue irises, curious and bright and shining like the moon above them.

"It's a cat," Bucky called up, keeping his voice low.

"Cat," Alexei said, like it made the most sense in the world. John huffed.

"I'm allergic."

"Tough shit, Walker." Bucky readjusted his grip on the dock, reaching out his other hand as close to the cat as he could get. Its eyes were still wide, but it didn't run away. It also didn't move any closer. Bucky made a few soft noises and wiggled his fingers a little. "Come on, come on."

"Did Bucky Barnes just pspspsps at a cat?" Ava asked somewhere above his head. He looked up.

"Could you all help me out, or fucking what?"

"Here," Bob said, leaning over the side of the dock and dangling a long piece of blue yarn. "I pulled it out of my sweater. Cats like yarn, right?"

"Give me that, Bob." Yelena grabbed for it and wove the end between her fingers until it looked like a little knit ball hanging on the end of a string. "More appealing for kitty."

"And everyone be quiet," Ava said, holding it down over the dock's overhang. "No sudden movements, Bucky. Toss it in there and be patient."

Bucky snagged the makeshift toy and did what Ava said, throwing the balled-up end as close to the cat as he could get it, while keeping a grip on the string. For the first time since he'd rode his bike down that stretch of desert road in Utah, everything was quiet. Nothing but the sloshing of the river somewhere below his boots and the cat's claws raking across the soft wood as it contemplated this new dynamic.

Resisting every urge inside him to call to it again, he stayed silent, vigilant. The cat was white, or the fur around its blue eyes was, anyway, vivid in the dark. The rest of it was matted, covered in dirt or fish guts or a million other kinds of grit and grime, but its nose and eyes and mouth seemed clean enough. No redness, no signs of sickness or infection. It stayed locked on the ball of yarn like an apex predator, nose twitching, whiskers quivering.

Bucky pulled on the string, a slight jerk, just enough to make it move, and the cat leapt. It snarled, flashing a set of tiny fangs, and tackled the ball, rolling onto its back with it snagged securely in all four sets of claws, front and back. Its tail whipped wildly as it rolled around in the wet filth under the dock without a care in the world.

It was a cat, but barely. Kitten would be the right word for it. Terror, maybe, too, as Bucky reached out a hand and got claws raked across his thumb for his trouble. But he kept his hand out, the end of the yarn wrapped around his pointer and middle fingers, and eventually the cat lost interest in the toy and began to nose at his hand instead. Warily at first, sniffing the tips of his fingers, but eventually it butted its whole wet, disgusting, tiny head into Bucky's palm, and didn't stop until he scratched between its ears, down the side of its jaw, and under its chin. It hadn't stopped staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes, and he gave it the same look right back.

"Looks like we both have a staring problem, huh?" he asked.

"Mrow," the cat mrowed, and padded closer, putting both paws on his cheek and leaning up to lick him on the forehead. Its sandpaper tongue rasped three more times, and it smelled like rotten fish and river water.

"You're gross," Bucky muttered as the cat climbed onto his shoulder and nipped his ear as if it was saying let's go. He hauled himself back up most of the way, accepting Alexei's hand to keep both himself and the cat on his shoulder steady.

"New teammate for team!" Alexei said as soon as both Bucky and the cat were on solid ground. "Welcome to Thunderbolts, tiniest Thunderbolt!"

"She really is so tiny," Yelena said, reaching out and immediately withdrawing her hand when the cat hissed and swatted at her. "And a bitch, holy fuck!"

"She's just scared," Bob said. "Give her a minute."

"Her?" Bucky asked, and reached up to grab the cat with both hands. She (definitely a she) went limp in his hands, stretching out longer than he thought would be possible for a cat that small, still staring right at him with those big eyes. Her paws (way bigger than the rest of her body) kneaded the air as a purr rumbled deep in her throat.

"If those monster paws are anything to go by, she's going to be huge," Ava said. "And she needs a bath."

"Takes one to know one," John muttered. Ava kicked him.

"Let me hold her," Yelena whined. Alexei put a hand on her shoulder.

"Bitch cat needs to rest," he said. "You'll get torn to ribbons, Lena."

"She's letting Bucky hold her like a sack of potatoes," Yelena argued. Alexei shrugged as the cat curled up in Bucky's metal hand and he held her out to Yelena.

"Slowly," he said as she lifted her hand. The cat raised her head, looked at Bucky first, and then turned to Yelena, bumping her outstretched fingers with her head. Yelena let out a soft gasp as she scratched the tips of her fingers through the cat's grimy fur, from the top of her head all the way to her tail. The cat curled back up and closed her eyes, content.

"She's an angel," Yelena whispered. “A bitch angel.”

"I call next," Bob said, also whispering.

John rolled his eyes. "It's a cat, guys."

"And you're John Walker, but we still keep you around for some reason," Ava shot back.

"She's part of team," Alexei said. "Be kind."

"And she's so much cuter than John," Yelena said, making a kissy face at the cat. John rolled his eyes again as Bucky motioned for his jacket, which Bob handed over. He knotted the sleeves together and slung it across his chest, nestling the cat into the pocket it made without much fuss. She hooked her claws into the leather, but it didn't matter to him.

"She doesn't have a collar or anything," he said. "We'll take her back with us tonight, and tomorrow we can see if she belongs to anyone."

"She belongs with us," Alexei said. "She's a Thunderbolt!"

"It's been two minutes, Alexei, Jesus." John narrowed his eyes at the cat huddled in Bucky's jacket, probably trying to assess if she was, in reality, cuter than him (she was). "She's not a Thunderbolt. I don't even know if we're Thunderbolts."

"I saw a bodega on our way out of the Watchtower," Bucky said before anyone could say something stupid like the New Avengers. He was firmly in denial about the entire post-fight press conference, and if he thought about Sam's reaction to all that shit again, he'd never stop thinking about it. "If it's still open, they might have supplies."

He led the way off of the docks, and, for once, no one objected.

—

“Blue or purple?” Yelena held up two different plastic litter boxes while Ava read the ingredients on a can of cat food. “Ava. Ava. Blue or purple?”

“This one has real chicken in it,” she said. Yelena tipped her head back, sighing up to the bodega’s ceiling.

“Bucky, Ava’s no help. Can you ask the cat if she wants blue or purple?”

“She’s okay with whatever you want,” Bucky said, accepting the can from Ava and a small bag of litter handed over the aisle from Alexei. “Who has the basket?”

“Me,” Bob called from a few aisles over. “Need it?”

“Please,” Bucky said as Yelena put the blue litter box back on the shelf, nodding at the purple one like she was satisfied. “Does that come with a scoop?”

She flipped it so he could see the matching scoop taped to the bottom. “It’s five dollars. four ninety-nine, but. Tax.”

“That is how they get you,” Alexei boomed from whatever aisle he was in now. Bob held out the empty basket triumphantly and Yelena added the litter box as Bucky dumped the litter and food into it after her. “Do we have enough to get kitty a toy?”

“They sell toys here, too?” Ava said as Yelena and Bob scrambled over each other to find whatever cat toy aisle Alexei was in, leaving Bucky with the basket and the cat herself, still nestled in his jacket sling. They’d left John outside sitting on the sidewalk in the dark— the bodega had three cats in the window alone, and he claimed he’d rather take on everything lurking in the New York City shadows by himself with the taco shield than, in his words, go even one step into that cat-infested hellhole.

“Bucky, we need your opinion!” Yelena’s voice wove through the bodega. The sole worker, a kid with a scraggly moustache and a full head of curly hair, had been half asleep behind the checkout as soon as the five of them took his establishment by storm, and Bucky was sure he’d kick them all to the curb with John if he could. “I think we should get her this one…”

A stick with a pink and orange fluff on the end shot up over the one aisle wall.

“See it?”

“Yeah,” he returned. It disappeared.

“And Ava thinks we should get this super dumb one.”

Another stick, this time with an electric blue worm on a string attached to it. The worm had eyes and a long red tongue. Kind of creepy, but also kind of cute. It reminded him of Bob’s yarn, and the cat had been a huge fan of that.

“I say we go worm,” he said, and, on the other side of the aisle, Ava cheered.

“In your face, Belova, we’re going worm.”

“Sleep with one eye open, Congressman Barnes,” Yelena said as they converged again at the checkout counter. Bucky took the toy from her and stuck it in the basket next to the litter box.

“I always do.”

She gave him a look like she didn’t quite know what to believe before planting both hands on the counter, making the curly-haired worker almost jump out of his skin.

“I have a very important question for you,” she said. The guy —his nametag said Cyrus— eyed her both warily and sleepily, somehow. And then his eyes swept over the rest of her, and he perked up a little.

“Yeah?” he asked. “What’s that?”

“Do you have a brush for cat?” Alexei planted himself next to Yelena, filling up most of the space and also, conveniently, showing most of the knives he had strapped to his person. Cyrus looked up at him, mouth open, as Ava phased through the counter, took a bristle brush off of a hook on the wall, and phased back. She dropped it into the basket on Bucky’s arm.

“That should work. What else do we need?”

Cyrus stared. Alexei waved one hand in front of his face as Ava put one hand on her cocked hip.

“Oh, right. Ask him, Yelena.”

“You guys were all over the news today,” Cyrus said, fast like he was scared he wouldn’t be able to get all the words out. He pointed at a tiny TV bolted to the far wall. “The, like, mass hallucination or trip or whatever we all went on today. That was you.”

He didn’t say you directly at Bob, but he still shrank back a little, hiding behind Alexei as much as he could.

“Are you guys seriously going to be the new Avengers?”

“I just want a hot dog, Cyrus,” Yelena said. “If we are the new Avengers, wouldn’t it be super cool for you? Getting an Avenger a hot dog?”

“Don’t—” Bucky started, but Cyrus, his eyes wider than dinner plates, pointed down the farthest aisle.

“There’s a rotator down there,” he said. “I don’t know if there’s any left.”

Yelena didn’t need to hear anything else, and darted down the aisle, pulling Bob after her. Bucky planted the shopping basket on the counter, and, apparently it was his turn, because Cyrus’s huge eyes went from the cat in the makeshift leather sling, to the metal arm (kind of hidden by the shopping basket but never hidden enough), to his face.

“You’re the Winter Soldier,” he breathed. Alexei clapped Bucky on the shoulder.

“Very cool, am I right?”

“Very cool,” Cyrus repeated, stunned. Bucky began unloading the basket, making a small pile beside the cash register. “My uncle lives in Brooklyn. He didn’t vote for you.”

“Probably a good choice,” Bucky said. “Can I get one of those, too?”

He pointed behind Cyrus at a small pink and blue packet, one of many hanging on the peg wall, and, still staring openmouthed, Cyrus grabbed one and added it to the pile. From the back of the bodega, Yelena’s voice thundered—

”YES!”

—as she raced back up the aisle, Bob and one hot dog in tow. It was piled with condiments, nestled in a white paper wrapper, and she held it up, triumphant, like it was a championship trophy.

“The very last one in the store. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It was until you added relish,” Bob said. Yelena smacked his chest.

“Shut the fuck up, Bob. It’s beautiful. I can’t wait to eat it.”

“That shit’s been rotating all damn day, hasn’t it?” Ava asked as Yelena, undeterred, took a giant bite. “It was probably on that rotator when we were battling Chicken Bob in the Void.”

“Your total’s twenty-one dollars and fifteen cents,” Cyrus said. Bucky jerked a thumb at Yelena and her prize.

“Did you add that on?”

“Nah, it’s free,” Cyrus said. “A thanks for waking us up from that weird-ass trip, or whatever.”

“That’s why we do it,” Yelena said, mouth full.

“Thanks.” Bucky accepted the change and the plastic bag full of cat supplies. Cyrus saluted.

“I’m old enough to vote next year,” he said. “I’ll totally vote for you then.”

“I sure as hell hope not,” Bucky said, and they left the bodega, the bells on the door clanging behind them as it swung shut. John sat on the edge of the curb with the taco shield over his knees, drumming an off-beat rhythm on its metal surface with the tips of his fingers. Bob sat down next to him as the rest congregated on the street (in the bike lane, but still).

"You get the stuff?" John asked. Bucky tossed him the pink and blue packet and he held it up to read it under the dim streetlight.

"Allergy meds?"

"The generic brand, don't whine about it."

A smile twitched the corner of John's lips as he turned away to hide it, pocketing the medicine. "Thanks, Bucky."

It was almost worse than him whining about it.

"Now what?" Ava asked. "We're in the same place we started an hour ago, with no food, less money, more litter, and a cat."

"Hold on, you guys didn't get food in there?" John asked. Yelena lifted her hot dog.

"I did. For free, New Avengers perks."

"Don't..." Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers as, from the jacket, the cat meowed loudly like it also was offended by the egregious use of New Avengers. "We can't just be saying shit like that. Thunderbolts, fine, yeah, whatever. Not the other thing."

"Okay, shit." Yelena took a big bite of hot dog. There was mustard on her chin. "Thunderbolt perks."

"And this is Thunderbolt dad tax," Alexei announced before opening his mouth wide, inching closer and closer to the hot dog. Yelena rolled her eyes and allowed him to take a bite— immediate mustard in his beard. They matched; it would've been endearing if it hadn't been gross.

The bodega door’s bells jangled again as Cyrus took a half step outside.

“If you guys want food, I know the guy who owns that joint down there on the corner. He does dollar slices after midnight; you could probably swing two pies for ten bucks."

"Who the fuck—" John turned around. "Is that cashier kid seriously eavesdropping right now?"

Slinking back behind the door, Cyrus poked part of his head around it again. "Weren't you Captain America at some point?"

"It's US Agent now," John grumbled, strapping the shield to his arm. "And thanks for the tip."

"Do we even have ten bucks?" Bob asked, his voice a low whisper.

This was to Bucky, who showed him the bills still held in his metal hand; twelve dollars. There were a few coins in his jacket pocket, too. Not a whole lot, but two pizzas was better than nothing— they'd eat them and they wouldn't complain about it. Bob glanced down the street at the neon pizza sign, rotating in the darkness.

"Anyone up for a slice?"

"Great idea, Bobby," John said. Ava shrugged.

"I could go for pizza."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Bucky said. The cat meowed loudly.

"Kitty agrees." Alexei pointed towards the shop, every inch a valiant soldier urging his troops onward. "With me, Thunderbolts! To pizza!"

"And it was Bob's idea!" Yelena said, raising her hot dog like a sword. Bucky didn’t even argue. Who gave a shit who’s idea it was, as long as they got something to eat and weren’t killing each other over it?

The pizza joint on the corner was a hole in the wall, barely one room, a counter and a few vending machines full of soda. And, as it turned out, the pizza guy was Cyrus's cousin, and he was just about to close up shop. He happily took their twelve dollars and eighty-five cents in return for every single pie still in the display case, and even heated and boxed it all for them. No comments about cybernetic arms, no free shit, and no New Avengers. Just pay me, take my pizza, and get out. Classic New York. Thank fuck.

After making a mental note where the pizza place was, just in case he ever fought a version of himself in a black hole void and was starving afterwards ever again, Bucky followed Ava and Yelena, still bickering over the cat toy they never agreed on, as they tracked their way back to the Watchtower. The cat, still nestled in his jacket, was either asleep or pretending to be, and Alexei was carrying a stack of pizzas to rival the Watchtower itself over his head.

They only had to pick one lock to get back to the floor Val had dropped them off at; Yelena made quick work of it and soon they were sprawled all over the weird training mat floor, thirty-four dollars poorer and a mess of pizzas and one cat richer. There were no plates in the kitchenette, but enough cups for all of them to have some genuine Manhattan tap water, and Yelena didn’t even object when every single one of them took their shoes off.

“We got cheese, pepperoni, some weird all-meat conglomeration…” John trailed off, peeking into pizza boxes as Alexei pushed the pile of shoes out into the hallway. It was probably for the better. “This one has pineapple on it, fucking disgusting. Half an onion and olive, a few slices of ham and peppers…”

“Hit me with a pineapple.” Yelena held out her hand and John made a face before sliding the box over to her.

“You would.”

“I would, too.” Alexei also took a pineapple, stacked it with one of the meat slices, and took a huge bite of both. “Fruit on pizza is very good.”

“Disagree.” Ava was alternating bites of a cheese slice and an onion and olive, using her crossed legs as plates. “Meat on pizza is gross, too.”

“What we’re missing is ranch,” Bob said, mouth full of ham and peppers. “Nothing beats any kind of pizza dunked in ranch. And the crust at the end? Gamechanger.” Yelena booed, and John threw a piece of onion at Bob. It stuck to his forehead. “What? Come on, guys, it’s so good.”

“Remind me to never eat if Bob’s cooking,” John said, like the food in front of them was some homecooked meal they’d all prepared together and not day-old unwanted pizza from a dead-tired shop owner just happy to be rid of it. Bucky sat between Ava and Yelena, bunching his jacket into a nest of sorts with the cat pretty much in the center of it all. “Bucky. Pizza?”

“Whatever’s closest,” Bucky said, accepting the box John slid over. Alexei must have gotten to it first, because there were a few all-meat slices interspersed with a few pineapple. He took a meat slice first, but literally could not have mattered less. It was warm and it was food, and that’s all that mattered. Three slices of various toppings later, he actually started to feel like a human being again.

“We have another business matter,” Alexei said, still double-fisting pizza with John not far behind. Bucky had that super soldier metabolism, too, but he’d always eaten less than someone like Steve. And he’d stopped at a diner on his way to Utah, too— he had no idea when the rest of the team had eaten last. From the way Alexei was taking down their pizza tower, it might have been weeks.

“What’s that?” Yelena asked, on her back with her head on a closed pizza box. Ava was laying parallel, her head on Yelena’s stomach, her crossed feet on Bob’s leg.

“Her.” Alexei pointed at the cat as Bucky picked her up gently and took her over to the kitchenette. “Newest Thunderbolt needs name.”

“That is true,” Bucky said as he set her into the sink and dug around for some sort of soap. She was still damp and slightly sticky from her time living under the docks, and she smelled worse than the rest of them, somehow. His cabinet-digging yielded a bottle of blue liquid soap. It had to be safe, it was the one with ducklings on it. If it was good enough for ducklings, it was good enough for dock worker cats. “What are you thinking?”

“Well.” Alexei held out his arms like it was obvious. “Thunderbolt!”

“We are not naming her Thunderbolt.”

“Every time I see a stray cat I call it solnishka,” Yelena said. Alexei clapped a hand to his heart.

“Oh, Lena. Adorable.”

Bucky shook his head. Little sun, while truly very cute, didn’t fit the cat they’d found under the glow of the moon. “No Russian. Sorry.”

“Fine,” Yelena said. “So koshka’s out, too?”

“We’re not naming this cat cat.”

“What about Luna?” John asked. Ava threw a pizza crust at him.

“That’s the most generic fucking white cat name I’ve ever—”

“Snowball,” Bob said. Another crust thrown, courtesy of Ava.

“I stand corrected.”

“I still think Thunderbolt is very honorable name,” Alexei said. Bucky turned the water on, warm enough but not hot, and as he worked the soap into the cat’s dirty fur, she began to purr under his hand.

“I thought you guys were supposed to hate water?” he asked quietly as he worked and she batted at the sink stream. “I guess you got used to it, down by the river.”

She looked up at him and meowed. Her eyes really were so blue.

“What’s your name?” he asked. She meowed again.

“Barnes, are you talking to that cat?” Ava called over. He briefly thought about aiming the sink nozzle at her.

“No,” he said.

“Liar!”

“I’m asking her for name suggestions, because you’re all fucking terrible at it.”

“Snowball’s a good cat name,” Bob argued. “My buddy Rolan had a few.”

“A few…” Yelena trailed off. Bob shrugged.

“Cats named Snowball.”

“Bob, just a quick follow up. Was this man a drug dealer?”

“Cocaine, yeah.”

Yelena nodded. “No further questions.”

“Her name’s not Snowball,” Bucky said, and dug in one of the drawers for a questionably clean dish towel. He wrapped the cat in it, rubbing with his thumbs to help her fur dry. As he used the comb to get out any snags or tangles, her fur began to dry in spikes. Using his fingers to make the fur on the top of her head stand up in a triangle, he snickered and took out his phone.

One picture snapped, one picture sent to Sam. She really did look ridiculous, he’d appreciate it.

“You look electrocuted,” he said, soft enough that Ava couldn’t hear, as his phone dinged.

“Her name is Alpine,” he said, bringing the vaguely damp cat-towel bundle back to the pizza circle. John scoffed.

“Like Alpine is any better than Luna.”

“It is better,” Yelena said. Alexei shrugged.

“Better.”

“Why do you get to pick the name?” Ava asked, head tilted incredulously. Bucky took her out of the towel and she made a beeline for Bob, who’d just opened the can of cat food, and stuck her face into it.

“I rescued her,” he said. “Her name’s Alpine, end of story.”

Ava nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Alpine,” Bob said like he was trying it out. She meowed. “Holy fuck, guys, she knows her name!”

“The cat doesn’t know her name,” John said. Alpine continued to lick the side of the can. John’s eyes narrowed. ”Alpine doesn’t know her name.”

She lifted her head and meowed, loud as hell, right at John. His mouth dropped open.

“Told ya,” Bob said brightly.

“What the fuck,” John whispered.

“So,” Yelena asked, raising her arms above her head and stretching out on the floor, “we’re sleeping here, yeah?”

“I think that’s the plan,” Bucky said. Alpine wandered back over, full of something that wasn’t half-rotten fish for once, and curled up next to his leg. “We played ball with Val tonight, but tomorrow’s going to be different.”

“Damn right it is,” John said. Alexei began stacking the empty boxes, and for a moment or two the room was silent as they put cups in the sink, piled trash on the counter, and did their level best to sweep the training mat floor free of crumbs. Everyone washed their hands, Yelena used the blue soap to quickly scrub through her hair, and soon they were collapsing on any available flat surface. Yelena and Ava took the couch again, curling up on opposite ends, and Bob climbed on the back and laid across the cushions, using his arms as a pillow.

Bucky returned to his spot on the mat, laying on his back with Alpine curled next to his head, warm and purring like a motor. He was awake one moment, listening to Alexei and John bicker under their breaths about who left half a pizza crust on the floor, and the next, he slept.

All through the night and into the morning.

He had no nightmares.

—

Alpine’s bright pink nose was the first thing Bucky saw when he opened his eyes. She licked him on his own nose, one sandpaper tongue rasp, and kneaded her paws on his chest before curling up again directly under his chin, satisfied that she’d succeeded in waking him up.

“Morning,” he said, scratching the top of her head. She let out a quiet little chirp in response. “Are we the only ones awake?”

One glance around the room (without moving Alpine from her spot) proved him right. Bob was still facedown on top of the couch, Yelena and Ava had moved to sharing the same pillow on the same end with Ava’s arm draped across Yelena’s shoulders, and Bob’s foot was dangerously close to Ava’s face. Alexei slept like a starfish, with one hand flung right next to Bucky’s head and the other beside John’s, and John was on his stomach using a pizza box as a makeshift pillow. The three of them made a weird asterisk shape in the middle of the floor.

The doors slid open, and Alpine was gone in an instant. She hid under the couch; he could see her brilliant blue eyes even in the shadows. He propped himself up on an elbow as Val walked into the room, heels clicking.

“Jesus Christ,” she said.

“Good morning to you, too,” John grumbled, unsticking himself from the pizza box and flinging it across the room with unerring accuracy. It landed on top of the rest.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Yelena ran a hand down her face as she and Ava retreated to their separate sides of the couch. “It’s not a pleasure, though. Just making myself clear.”

“Morning, Val,” Bob said, levering himself upright and sitting on top of the couch, feet dangling between Yelena and Ava.

“Robert,” she said. “You looked better blonde.”

“He really didn’t,” John said. Alexei yawned loudly.

“Five more hours,” he said. Val’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the room again.

“Is there a cat in here?”

“No,” Bucky said.

“I fucking hate cats,” she said. “Dirty bastards. Much like…” She looked around the room, wrinkling her nose at the general state of things. Bucky wondered what she’d thought of the shoe pile outside of the door, and then laid out three different plans to somehow get her to the bottom of it with John’s stinky ass boot on her face. “Are those… Pizza boxes? Where the hell did you guys get pizza?”

“Ordered in,” Ava said. Yelena turned away so Val wouldn’t see her smirking.

“Ava,” Val said. “Always a pleasure.”

Ava saluted. Val turned her glare back to Bucky.

“Congressman,” she said, inclining her head in a way that was clearly a mockery. “Although… Maybe not for long. I’m hearing impeachment rumors already.”

“Let them impeach me,” Bucky said. “I’m clearly needed elsewhere.”

“Ah, yes, that reminds me.” Val reached into her briefcase, removing a thick folder of papers. Fucking hell, another packet. Bucky fought the urge to roll his eyes as Val held it out, gesturing impatiently until he crossed the room to take it. “Read through that before—”

She jerked her head around.

“I swear I heard something. Is there or is there not a fucking cat in here?”

“No cat,” Alexei said. “Going nuts, are we?”

“There’s literally a litter box right there.” She pointed to the corner, where Alexei had set up Alpine’s litter box the previous night. He’d been vigilant with that scoop, too, and it was as pristine as the Utah desert. “Don’t gaslight me, grandpa, I know there’s a cat in here.”

“Uh, actually, that’s mine.” Bob raised his hand. “Sorry.”

Val’s expression flattened. “The litter box.”

“Yes.”

“Is yours.”

Bob nodded. “Yeah.”

Val’s jaw tightened. “You are an adult human man who uses… A litter box?”

“You didn’t read that in my file?”

Yelena’s face was fully buried in the couch cushion as Bob smiled blandly at Val, who hadn’t stopped glaring for the past five minutes, or possibly since she’d emerged, fully formed, from Mordor. Bucky wondered briefly if any of the others would watch the Lord of the Rings movies with him; he’d heard some pretty good things but hadn’t had a chance to catch up on those yet.

“Stop bullshitting me,” Val spat. “There’s a cat toy right fucking there.”

The worm from Alpine’s toy was sticking out from the bottom of the couch. Yelena scooped it up as Bob shrugged one shoulder.

“Mine, too.”

“He’s getting better at it,” Yelena choked out as she held the stick up. Bob swatted at the worm and her voice went up at least three octaves. “See?”

John was fully turned around, shoulders shaking, and Ava’s lips were quivering. Bucky was surprised that Alexei was keeping it together as well as he was, but then he actually looked over— Alexei was staring at the ceiling as a single tear trailed down his cheek to get lost in his beard.

“I can’t believe this,” Val muttered under her breath just as, from somewhere under the couch, Alpine let out a muffled mrow? Val pointed. Not at the couch, but at Bob, and then Alexei, and then Bucky.

“I heard it!” She pointed again, at Yelena this time. “That was a meow, god damn it, and I will—”

“Sorry, guys,” John said. “I can’t stop sneezing today. Seasonal allergies, I guess.”

Val paused, finger still in the air, shaking with rage. “You’re telling me. That the noise wasn’t a meow. It was a sneeze?”

“I sneezed,” John said. “Not a big deal.”

“Bless you,” Alexei whispered.

“I know what a fucking kitten meow sounds like!”

“Hey, don’t make fun of him,” Ava said. “He’s very insecure about his kitten sneeze.”

Yelena cackled, one loud, bright noise, and dug her face into the couch cushions again, and Bucky, very discreetly, hid his entire face behind his metal hand so that Val couldn’t see him laughing. Or, maybe she could. He didn’t really give a shit either way.

“I don’t have time to deal with this,” Val said, and gathered her briefcase. “Read the fucking packet, and stick to the timetable.”

She swept through the doors, and they slid shut in her wake. As soon as they closed, Alexei howled with laughter, John and Bob collapsed all over each other, barely choking out litter box over and over again, and Alpine ran out from underneath the couch to twine around Bucky’s legs.

“Natural born super spy!” Alexei held out his arms towards Alpine. “A true Thunderbolt!”

“Yeah,” John said, wiping his eyes. “I guess she’s okay.”

Bucky tossed the packet of papers onto the kitchenette's counter. He didn't care much what was in it; eventually he was going to have a real conversation with someone other than Val about how this whole thing was going to look. Before that, though, he was going to have a conversation with them, with his team, and figure out how they wanted the whole thing to go. If they were heroes, they were sure as hell going to do it on their own terms, and, if he was being honest with himself, one of his terms still firmly revolved around Val in jail.

But, there was enough time for all of that later. Much later.

He scooped Alpine off of the floor and set her on the counter on top of the packet. She immediately began to nudge her head against his side until he began to scratch her head with his thumb; going slow, gentle.

“I say fuck Val’s timetable,” he said as Yelena gave a double middle finger in the packet’s general direction. “I’m taking Alpine to the vet to see if she has somewhere else she’s supposed to be. Does anyone want to come with?”

Five hands went up as Bucky placed Alpine on his shoulder. She headbutted his temple gently, purring like a motor in his ear.

"Unsurprising," he said, and, as he turned towards the door, they all followed.