Chapter Text
“You have to turn it clockwise. Clockwise.” Ava makes a grab for the Allen wrench Alexei is wielding and narrowly avoids taking out Yelena’s eye. “Does clockwise mean something different in Russia?”
Alexei scowls at the flimsy sheet of paper Bob is holding for him and furrows his eyebrows another ten degrees south. “Instructions say left!”
“The instructions are from Ikea,” Walker, who is positioned under the piece of furniture Alexei is trying to assemble, turns his head as best he can in an attempt to look at said instructions. “There are no words.”
“Little man is twisting left!” Alexei exclaims. He snags the paper from Bob and thrusts them in Walker’s face. “See arrow?”
“That’s not an arrow,” Ava says.
“It arrow!”
“I mean, it looks like an arrow?” Walker offers.
Ava nudges Alexei to one side and tightens the bolt into place. She twists it right and smirks. “It’s right.”
Yelena, whose contribution to the whole effort has to be occasionally tossing a chip into the open mouth of one of her team mates every few minutes, does what she thinks is an exceptionally mature job of not telling them they’re all idiots. Mostly. “How many Avengers does it take to put together a couch?”
“Four,” Bob provides helpfully. “And me. Want me to go get Bucky?”
There’s a collective shout of “No!” That stems from both their collective desire to impress and please their unofficial leader, and the fact that Bucky has somehow turned exasperated sighing into an intimidation tactic, apparently without realizing it.
“We build Scandinavian furniture!” Alexei declares, slamming his fist on the ground to punctuate his point, then cringing and patting Bob awkwardly on the shoulder. Bob blinks at him, clearly more bewildered than intimidated. It’s a good day.
One that won’t be defeated by shitty furniture.
“You’d think the CIA would splurge for some decent couches,” Ava grumbles. She tests the sturdiness of the now attached arm and nods in apparent satisfaction.
“They’re prioritizing R & D,” Walker defends them.
“They should be prioritizing R & R,” Yelena grumbles.
"I think we're at step eight," Bob says, squinting at the diagram that now has a suspicious coffee stain on it.
"We skipped step five," Walker points out, holding up a bag of screws they haven't touched.
Alexei waves him off. "Steps are suggestion."
The couch frame creaks ominously as Ava tightens another bolt. "Did anyone actually count the parts when we opened the box?"
"Too late for counting," Yelena says, now fully committed. She jams two pieces together that clearly don't fit. "Sometimes you just gotta… I dunno, use force."
The wooden arm cracks.
"Not that much force!” Ava hisses.
Walker pulls out his phone. "I'm looking up a video tutorial."
"No cheating!" Alexei snatches the phone and tosses it behind him. It lands with a splash in Bob's water glass.
Bob fishes it out silently, expression unchanging.
"Great," Walker mutters. "That's my third phone this month."
Yelena stands up suddenly. "Who’s in charge of the cushions?"
"Me," Ava and Alexei say simultaneously, glaring furiously at each other.
The half-assembled frame wobbles as Bob leans against it. "I think we need to-"
The entire structure collapses with a horrific splintering sound. A spring shoots across the room and bounces off the wall.
"Was that supposed to have springs?" Ava asks into the stunned silence.
Alexei kicks at the pile of wood and fabric. "Ikea is Swedish conspiracy to break spirit."
"Four hours," Yelena says flatly. "Four hours of our lives we'll never get back.
Walker extracts himself from the debris. "Does anyone else smell burning?"
They all look at the small wisp of smoke rising from what was supposed to be the electrical recliner component.
"That can't be good," Bob says, backing away.
The smoke detector begins to wail.
"Nobody tell Bucky," Ava says, grabbing the fire extinguisher and dousing the fire .
“Tell Bucky what?”
Bucky stands in the doorway, arms crossed, surveying the disaster zone that was once going to be a couch. His gaze travels slowly from the smoking pile of wood and fabric to the fire extinguisher foam sprayed across the floor, then to the five guilty faces staring back at him.
"Tell Bucky what?" he repeats, voice dangerously calm.
Bob points to the ruins. "We were, er, just putting together the new couch?” Yelena is proud of him for speaking up. Most of his interactions with Bucky are contained to cautious silences and awkward stammering.
"I can see that." Bucky's gaze fixes on the foam-covered spring. "How exactly did you manage to weaponize furniture?"
"Instructions were wrong," Alexei says firmly. "Not our fault."
Yelena brushes foam off her sleeve. "There was a minor electrical malfunction."
"Minor?" Walker gestures to the charred fabric. "It was smoking."
"Was smoking," Ava corrects. "Past tense. We handled it.
Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. "So instead of a couch, we now have a fire hazard and what looks like a crime scene."
"We followed the steps," Bob offers helpfully, seemingly encouraged by Bucky’s lack of outburst. "Most of them."
"Some of them," Walker amends.
"The important ones," Ava insists.
Bucky walks over and picks up the mangled instruction sheet. "This is for a bookshelf."
Five pairs of eyes blink at him.
"No wonder nothing fit right," Yelena says after a long pause.
Alexei kicks at the debris again. "We were building wrong furniture whole time?"
"That explains a lot," Walker mumbles.
Bucky sighs the exact exasperated sigh they had all been trying to avoid. "Clean this up. All of it. And no one touches anything with a circuit board until I get back."
"Where are you going?" Bob asks.
"To get a new couch," Bucky says, already heading for the door.
“Make sure it’s blue!” Ava shouts after him. The door closes on his retreating back before anyone else can protest.
“Should be red,” Alexei grumbles.
“I like blue,” Walker offers.
Without anything to do, Yelena feels her attention wavering. They’re out of chips. “Of course you do.”
Bob surveys the foam-covered disaster zone. “Was he angry? Do you think he was angry?"
“He wasn’t angry, Bobby,” Walker promises him.
“I dunno, he was pretty scowly.”
“I think that’s just his face,” Ava shrugs.
Bob doesn’t look completely convinced. "We should probably clean this up before he gets back, right?
"We?" Alexi points dramatically at the charred remains. "You handed me bookshelf manual! This is like blaming match for forest fire!"
"Oh please," Ava rolls her eyes, already grabbing a trash bag.
Walker picks up the fire extinguisher, foam still dripping from the nozzle. "At least I didn't panic and spray everything within a ten-foot radius."
"That was strategic firefighting," Ava defends. "Next time, I’ll let you get your eyebrows burned off.”
Yelena watches them descend into finger-pointing chaos. Perfect time for a strategic exit. She backs toward the door with the stealth of someone who's spent years perfecting the art of avoiding responsibility.
"I'll just go grab some... cleaning... things," she announces vaguely to no one in particular.
"Mops!" Bob calls after her.
"Vodka!" shouts Alexi.
"Both?" Walker suggests hopefully.
Yelena's already halfway down the corridor, their bickering fading behind her. She kicks off her foam-covered shoes, padding barefoot toward the restricted section of the tower. Val thinks her fancy security system keeps them contained to the "safe" areas of the newly christened ‘Watchtower’. Cute.
Forty-five seconds and one reprogrammed keycard later, she's squeezing through a maintenance hatch that definitely isn't on any official tour.
Bucky does manage to get them all a new couch. Multiple couches, actually. And comfy ones. Apparently, there was a form to fill out.
Couches lead to a TV, which leads to a fully furnished social area within twenty-four hours of their little DIY session.
In hindsight, the TV might’ve been a bad idea, especially when none of them can agree on what to watch. ‘Flipping a coin’ to decide on who gets dibs of the remote goes about as well as can be expected, with Walker and Alexei deciding to settle things with a good old fashioned arm wrestling, Ava shamelessly stealing the remote from whoever has it, and Bob eagerly telling them ‘he doesn’t mind what they watch’ despite clearly having a preference for cozy British murder mysteries. Yelena cheats fairly, and Bucky, when he joins them, somehow always manages to win the coin toss.
That’s not been for a couple of nights now. He’s the same old Bucky he’s been the whole time, taking to wandering the empty, unfinished corridors of the tower during the hours he’s not working or helping the rest of them train. Yelena’s curious, mostly, and bored of TV. And aware, in ways she’s not been before, of just how much people lie through the day and night.
It's not even been two weeks since New York almost got swallowed whole by shame. Every time they accidentally catch news footage, there’s some pundit with shadows around their eyes talking about trauma and counseling and who, if anyone, is going to pay for a city-wide therapy bill.
As a group they’re doing about as well as can be expected, which is to say they’re all just as fucked up as they were last month, but making an effort to be fucked up in company. Some days it works. Other days, well, for someone who is pretty fucking sure she doesn’t want to be alone, Yelena spends the days avoiding everyone and crawling through the airducts of a skyscraper.
She makes sure Bob is with someone, though, and always emerges when it comes time for them to order take out. That counts for something, she thinks.
Though it’s kinda depressing how that can order takeout despite, well, the entire city getting thrown headfirst into trauma-ville. Life goes on. People are back at work the same day.
She’s not sure if that’s resilience or capitalism or if there’s any real difference these days.
Today’s exploration takes her through the ceiling spaces of the tower’s top levels. They’re all sharing the one floor, but according to the building’s plans, all this space used to belong to the penthouse. She’s no clue what even Tony Stark could use a dozen extra floors for, but what does she know about billionaires? Maybe he used them to store ponies or doll collections or ye olde torture devices.
Speaking of torture…
She’s about to climb through an air vent and drop down into the empty room below when she catches sight of a dark shape standing up against the panoramic windows. Bucky’s got the palm of his right hand pressed against the glass. His forehead, too.
Oh yeah, that right there is a red flag hug alert.
Does she want a hug herself? No, not so much? Does literally everyone on her team need a hug whether they like it or not?
If a good hug can save the city, it can do something about Bucky’s hunched shoulders and the pained expression she can see reflected in the glass.
Hug it is.
Now… does she aim for stealth and limit his chances of avoiding her? She’s more likely to succeed in getting her arms around him, but equally as likely to lose a few teeth in the process.
Or does she drop down and announce her presence and like… frown him into submission?
Oh! Or she could tell him she needs a hug. He’d give her one if she asked, she’s sure of it. But that would make him the hugger and not the huggee and does that even count?
It probably counts…
“There you are.”
Sam Wilson steps into the room in full star-spangled glory, looking a hundred times more patriotic than Walker and annoyingly perfect with it. Shouldn’t someone, say, tell them when they get visitors? "So this is where you've been hiding."
Bucky doesn't answer right away. When he does, his voice is flat. "Not hiding."
“Uh huh. You forget how to text again?”
“I texted,” Bucky protests. “I called. After. You know, so you didn’t-“
“Worry about my dumbass friend being sucked into a city-wide cloud of trauma? Or him getting back into the fight after working so damn hard to get out of it? How about him willingly sign up to work for the same government agency that once wanted to lock him up and throw away the key?”
Bucky pushes back from the window but doesn’t turn around. “All of the above.”
“Great job, I officially wasn’t worried.”
“Liar.” There’s something warm and affectionate in Bucky’s voice that surprises Yelena. She’s seen the softer side of him plenty since they kinda fell into whatever the hell they’re currently into, but the familiarity is new.
“Where’s your head at, Buck?” Wilson asks, taking a step closer so he can rest his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You call your therapist?”
“He’s, ah, taken a leave of absence,” Bucky says. “Trauma cloud.”
“Right.” Wilson looks like he’s considering his next words carefully. “Seriously, though.”
“Nothing in those rooms I don’t see every night anyway,” Bucky shrugs. “It’s fine. Really.”
“Christ, you’re a frustrating man. I tell you that before?”
“Couple times a month,” Bucky nods. “How’s Sarah? The boys?”
“All three of them are ready to fly on up here and beat your ass if you don’t come home to visit.”
“I can’t,” Bucky admits, sounding genuinely torn up about it. “There’s too much to do here, and-“
“Yeah, we’re talking about that.” Wilson drops his hand from Bucky’s shoulder and positions himself until his arm is brushing Bucky’s. “You’re seriously getting back in the fight for the CIA?”
“Valentina’s a means to an end,” Bucky shakes his head. “I’m not… you don’t have to worry about that.”
“I’m gonna worry about that,” Wilson scoffs. “You never once had a choice in who you worked for. Now you do, and this is what you’re picking?”
“It’s not about her.”
“Then what’s it about?”
Bucky is quiet for a long moment. Yelena leans closer to the vent. She feels only a fraction of guilt for listening in. Bucky’s an enigma, for all that everyone on the planet knows literally everything about him.
“The team, they’re… well, you know I’ve been where they’re at. Making amends. If I can help them-“
“Okay,” Wilson says, stern now in a way he’s not been before. “First of all-“
“They’re kids, Sam.”
“They’re literally grown ass adults. I know anyone who hasn’t had their centennial seems young to your geriatric ass, but-“
“Yelena-“
She straightens up, not sure she wants to hear what is coming next.
“Was a kid. Is now an adult. And as an adult, made adult decisions.” Ouch. Maybe Walker is her favorite Captain America. “And maybe we let Nat down, not keeping a better eye out for her, but that doesn’t mean she’s your responsibility.”
Yelena bristles at the duel implication and resolves to give Walker less of a hard time, at least for the next twenty four hours.
She doesn’t think about Natasha. If she cries, they’ll hear her.
“What about Walker-“
“Don’t even get me started on Walker. Or Shostakov. They chose to take the serum and-“
“So did I,” Bucky cuts in.
“You,” Wilson sounds exasperated. “Were kidnapped and experimented on by evil Nazi scientists.”
“That’s not-“
"The same thing, I know. But it's not- "
"I made choices too," Bucky says, his voice tight. "After. When I could have- "
Wilson sighs heavily. "We're not doing this again. These people aren't you, Buck. And you don't owe them, or Valentina- "
"It's not about owing." Bucky turns from the window to finally look at him. "It's about- "
"What Steve would do?"
Yelena presses closer to the vent. The air in the room seems to compress suddenly.
"That's not fair," Bucky says, so quietly she almost misses it.
"No, it's not," Wilson agrees. "But it's what you're thinking, isn't it? What would Steve- "
"Don't."
Wilson runs a hand over his face. "Look, I remember how he was when we were on the run. Always rushing back to Wakanda whenever he could."
Bucky goes very still. "Sam- "
"The only time I ever saw him shave that damn beard was before heading to see you."
"You knew?"
"Course I knew." Wilson's voice softens. “Only time Nat and I ever fought was over who’d be his best man.”
Her heart seizes at the sound of Natasha’s name. So much so that it takes a while for the rest of what Wiulson is saying to sink in. Yelena's eyes widen. Oh. OH.
"T’Challa was the only one there," Bucky starts, then stops himself, a cloud of grief crossing his face.
"You two were everything to each other," Wilson says gently. "And I'm sorry I never... that we don't talk about him. About what he meant to you."
Bucky's shoulders slump. "Yeah."
"I'm not saying these guys are your responsibility. I'm saying your happiness would've mattered to him more than anything’”
"You can't know that."
"I can, actually." Wilson's voice is firm now. "The man crossed oceans and time for you."
"Then why did he… "
Bucky trails off into silence. Wilson puts his hand back on Bucky’s shoulder. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”
Silence stretches between them. Yelena holds her breath, afraid even the slightest sound might break whatever is happening.
"I don't think I’m supposed to be in a world he’s not living in," Bucky admits finally.
"Steve’s not your only family." Wilson moves closer, until they're standing shoulder to shoulder again. "You're not alone. Me, Sarah, the kids… just pick up the phone, man. Please."
Yelena shifts, accidentally bumping her elbow against the metal duct. Both men freeze, heads tilting slightly toward the ceiling.
"It's just the building settling," Wilson says after a moment.
Bucky doesn't look convinced. "Or it's the Russian assassin who's been crawling through the air ducts for the past week."
Yelena winces. Busted.
“You can come out, Yelena,” Bucky calls up to her.
Ok, sure, she can. Or. Or she can make a dignified retreat. It’s not running away. It’s…
Strategic repositioning.
Yelena slides backward through the duct as silently as possible, holding her breath until she's safely around the corner. Then she moves with practiced efficiency, backtracking through the maze of maintenance passages she's mentally mapped over the past week.
Ten minutes later, she emerges from a vent in a hallway three floors down, dusts herself off, and strolls casually back to the common room like she hasn't just discovered what might be the biggest revelation since finding out Santa isn't real.
The TV is blaring when she walks in. Apparently, the great remote control debate is still ongoing.
"We are NOT watching another documentary about tanks," Ava declares, making a lunge for the remote that Walker is holding just out of reach.
"But it's the T-90 episode!" Walker protests. "The good one!"
"They're all tanks! Big metal things that go boom!" Ava jumps, swiping at air as Walker raises his arm higher.
Alexei is sprawled across one of the new couches, feet propped up on the arm. "In Russia, we watch bears fight. Much more exciting."
Bob, sitting cross-legged on the floor, looks up when Yelena enters. "Oh hey! Where've you been? We're watching a show about tanks."
Four pairs of eyes turn toward her.
"I was exploring," Yelena says vaguely, dropping onto the couch beside Alexei and shoving his feet aside. "This place has like fifty empty floors."
"Find anything good?" Walker asks, momentarily distracted enough for Ava to snatch the remote.
"Ha!" Ava triumphantly changes the channel to some reality cooking show.
Yelena shrugs, mind racing. "Just boring office spaces. Hey, should we order food? I'm starving."
"Nice deflection," Ava says with narrowed eyes, but the prospect of food is enough to derail everyone's curiosity.
"Pizza?" Bob suggests hopefully.
"We had pizza yesterday," Walker groans.
"Thai?" Ava offers.
"Too spicy," Alexei objects. "Russian stomach not built for Thai peppers."
"That's literally not a thing," Ava rolls her eyes.
Yelena can't hold it in anymore. The words burst out before she can stop them. "Did you guys know Bucky was gay? Or like, married to Steve Rogers?"
The room goes silent. Four stunned faces stare at her.
Then, chaos.
"WHAT?" Walker nearly falls off his chair.
"I knew it!” Ava pumps her fist in the air.
"Captain America was gay?" Bob looks genuinely confused. "But my history textbook said-"
"Is joke?" Alexei frowns, then his face clears. "You joke!"
"It's not a joke," Yelena insists. "I just heard Sam Wilson talking to him about it. They were like, married. Or as good as."
"That makes so much sense," Ava nods vigorously. "Rogers started a war with half the planet for Bucky. It’s kinda romantic when you think about it."
"Wait," Walker holds up his hands. "Are we sure about this? Steve Rogers, not Bucky. I mean, Captain America was like, the symbol of-"
"Of what?" Ava challenges, eyes narrowing.
Walker wisely reconsiders whatever he was about to say. "-of, uh, keeping secrets from the public, I guess."
"So much for my American history grade," Bob mumbles.
Yelena flops down onto the end of the couch and pictures Natasha’s coy little smile when she was willing to let someone in on a secret.
“Wait,” Bob continues with a frown. “So if they were like, married, married, what happened?”
“I thought he died?” Ava says, resting her elbows on her knees.
“I heard he on moon,” Alexei shrugs. “Perhaps they honeymoon, eh! Ha!” He’s the only one to laugh at his joke.
"No, but seriously," Ava leans forward, suddenly invested. "Where is Steve Rogers? The official story is that he died during the final battle against Thanos, right?"
"That's what my history teacher said," Bob confirms. "There was a whole memorial service and everything."
Walker shakes his head. "That's not what I heard in the military. Some folks said was he retired, went off-grid somewhere."
“Moon,” Alexei mutters under his breath.
"But Bucky's here," Yelena points out. "Alone."
The room falls quiet.
"Maybe they had a fight?" Bob suggests, his eyes downcast. "Like, a really bad one?"
Alexei snorts. "In Russia, we have saying. Love is like hammer - sometimes must hit nail on head many times."
"That's... not a thing," Ava says.
"Is now."
"What if," Walker says slowly, "Rogers is actually on some top-secret mission? In space. And Bucky doesn't even know where he is?"
Ava's eyes light up. "Oh! Like deep cover. And they can't contact each other for security reasons!"
"Or Rogers in cryo sleep somewhere," Alexei offers. "Very romantic, yes? Both frozen in time, just not same time."
"Maybe he's in parallel universe," Bob adds, warming to the game. "Like in that episode of Doctor Who where—"
"Or maybe," Yelena interrupts, "he just left and lived a whole different life without Bucky."
They all stare at her.
"That's... really dark, Yelena," Ava says finally.
Yelena shrugs. "Just saying. People leave. It happens."
"No way," Walker shakes his head firmly. "There has to be more to the story."
"Then let's find out," Yelena says, sitting up straighter.
"How?" Bob asks.
"We're living in a building with top-secret clearance, surrounded by classified tech, with a bunch of access codes Bucky thinks we don't know about." Yelena raises an eyebrow. "Plus, Sam Wilson is still here. We could just ask him."
"Ask who what?" Bucky's voice comes from the doorway.
Five heads whip around simultaneously, expressions ranging from guilty to terrified. Bucky fixes his gaze briefly on Yelena’s innocent expression, but says nothing about the conversation they both know she overheard.
"Nothing!" Walker says too quickly.
"About dinner!" Ava blurts at the same time.
"If you single," Alexei adds with absolutely zero subtlety.
Bob just stares at his hands, cheeks flaming red.
Yelena meets Bucky's gaze head-on. "We were just debating what kind of food to order. Any preferences?"
Bucky looks from one guilty face to another, clearly not buying it and surprisingly unwilling to push the matter. Okay, so maybe Yelena feels a tiny bit guilty. "Uh-huh. Well, don't order anything for me. Wilson and I are heading out."
"Oh? Hot date?" Ava asks with forced casualness.
Bucky's eyes narrow. "Congress stuff."
“Wow. Vague.” Yelena mutters as he makes his retreat.
No one else dares breathe until he disappears back down the hallway.
"That," Walker whispers, "was close."
"Too close," Bob agrees, still staring at his hands.
"So," Yelena looks around at her teammates, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Who's wants to find Steve Rogers?"