tags: fluff and humour, established relationship (marriage), parenthood, girl dad bucky, the new avengers (post thunderbolts*), auntie yelena, alexei shenanigans… and bob is an ipad kid.
summary: yours and bucky’s toddler daughter visits avengers tower for the first time and immediately becomes everyone’s favorite. alexei is obsessed. yelena is chaotic aunt. bob is shy. bucky comes back from a mission and goes full soft dad mode. chaos and fluff ensue!!
word count: 2275
A/N: kinda inspired by this fic written by @buckysleftbicep (absolutely loved it) so everyone go check it out right now!! Posting fluff in celebration of reaching 1k followers!
The moment you step into Avengers Tower, your daughter’s tiny hand wrapped in yours and her beloved deer plush tucked under her arm, you brace yourself.
Not for an attack. Not for a mission.
But for them.
Yelena’s the first to spot you from across the lounge, sitting cross-legged on the couch with her boots on the coffee table, casually eating pickles out of the jar like it’s an Olympic sport. Her eyes light up instantly.
“You brought the gremlin,” she says, hopping over the back of the couch like it owes her money. “Finally.”
Your daughter perks up at the voice and lets go of your hand, wobble-running straight into Yelena’s legs. “Lena!”
Yelena scoops her up with practiced ease, already spinning her like a pizza. “You’re taller than last time. What are they feeding you, huh? Dinosaur nuggets? Uncrustables?”
You smile, brushing hair from your face. “Babysitter called in sick. Bucky’s off running recon with Ava and John. It was either bring her with me or let Alpine babysit.”
Yelena shrugs. “Cat would’ve done a decent job.”
But before you can respond, a voice bellows from across the room like thunder cracking through a storm.
“OH MY GOD.”
You freeze.
“THERE IS A CHILD.”
Alexei appears like a bear-sized ghost from around the corner, eyes wide, beard fluffed, hands halfway to the sky in pure dramatics.
“She is real! You made her!” he gasps, pointing between you and your daughter like he’s just discovered human biology. “You and Barnes! You spawned!”
Your daughter clutches tighter to Yelena’s neck, blinking slowly. “…Who’s that?”
“That’s Uncle Alexei, baby,” Yelena mutters, clearly second-guessing every life choice.
“Uncle?” Alexei gasps, one hand pressed to his heart. “She called me uncle? Did you hear that? She has taste.”
“She didn’t call you anything, actually,” you say dryly.
He ignores you, kneeling down like he’s approaching a skittish woodland creature. “Little one. What is your name?”
Your daughter snuggles further into Yelena’s shoulder, unsure.
Yelena whispers it to him.
Alexei lights up. “Beautiful. Like tiny ballerina-slash-assassin.”
Then he spots the plushie.
His jaw drops. “Is that… a deer?!”
She nods.
He gasps. “A baby deer,” he glances directly at you. “You brought Bambi to the Tower. Look at this! I will call her Bambi forever now. This is perfect.”
You groan. “Her name is not Bambi.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Alexei says with utter seriousness. “Her superhero name is Bambi now.” He looks at the plush deer again, as if he needs confirmation. “This is Bambi. Your child… she is Bambi.”
“Why are you like this?”
The elevator dings softly behind you. Bob steps out, hugging a datapad to his chest, eyes flicking up—and stopping cold at the sight of a tiny human standing in the middle of the room surrounded by chaos.
He freezes like he just walked into the wrong universe.
“Oh,” he says, voice soft. “Oh. Um. Hi.”
Alexei scoops your daughter’s plush out of her hands (gently, somehow) and holds it up like a prize. “The deer has arrived.”
Your daughter lets out a tiny, distressed “Nooo!” and Yelena sighs, prying it back and handing it to her. She immediately clutches it to her chest, pouting.
Alexei melts. “She loves it. Look at the loyalty. I respect it. She will be a warrior.”
“She’s three,” you say.
“And already wiser than John,” Bob mutters, sliding onto the couch and giving your daughter a gentle wave. “Hi… I’m Bob.”
Bob offers a cautious smile from his corner of the couch, clearly doing mental math on how to interact with a three-year-old while holding a fragile datapad full of intel. “Is that your deer?” he asks gently.
Your daughter nods, eyes wide but curious.
“What’s your name?”
She hesitates, glances at you, then whispers, “Bambi.”
You sigh. Yelena smirks. Alexei fist-pumps like his soul just ascended.
“Haha! See?! Bambi!”
“She only said that because you pressured her!” you argue.
Alexei ignores you completely, now crouching beside Bob like they’re co-conspirators. “This changes everything. We must get her a cape.”
Bob blinks. “Wait, for the deer or…?”
“Yes.”
Before you can intervene, your daughter climbs out of Yelena’s lap and toddles unsteadily across the rug, her tiny socks making her slide a little on the hardwood. She waddles straight up to Bob and shyly offers him the plush deer for inspection.
Bob stares, caught completely off-guard. Slowly, reverently, he reaches out and pokes it once, like he’s been offered something sacred.
“She trusts you,” Yelena says with a smirk. “You’ve been chosen.”
Alexei claps him on the back. “Welcome to the Uncle Club.”
Bob pales. “I—I didn’t sign up for that—”
“Too late,” Yelena and Alexei say in unison.
You step in before your daughter hands over her entire soul to the team. “Alright, Bambi’s gotta go with me to the debriefing room for a bit. She’s quiet during meetings, I swear.”
“Wait, she’s sitting in?” Bob asks, blinking.
“She can’t stay here,” you whisper. “He’s already planning her costume reveal.” You point at Alexei as you roll your eyes.
Alexei winks. “Tiny leather jacket. I know a guy.”
You hoist your daughter up, her head instantly finding your shoulder, deer tucked between you. She’s calm now, observing the chaos like she’s already used to it—which, to be fair, she probably is.
Yelena holds the elevator door open for you. “Want me to come with?”
You smile gratefully. “Please.”
Bob waves. “Bye, Bambi.”
Alexei bows. “We will train in the art of war when you return.”
As the elevator doors slide shut, you glance down at the sleepy toddler in your arms and murmur, “She kind of is ruling the tower right now.”
Yelena chuckles beside you, hands in her pockets. “Please. Alexei is probably already imagining her leading The New New Avengers.”
———
The common room is unusually quiet.
Which, considering who lives here, means there are only three simultaneous conversations instead of seven, and no one’s actively throwing knives at the wall.
You’re curled up on the far couch with a warm mug of coffee tucked in your hands, your legs folded under you, eyes tracking the scene in front of you with the kind of resigned affection that only comes from parenting amidst chaos.
Your daughter is sitting cross-legged on the rug, her beloved deer plush nestled in her lap, while Bob sits beside her like he’s attending a high-stakes diplomatic summit. His tablet is open, and he’s very seriously showing her a game where she gets to decorate cupcakes.
“Okay,” Bob says, voice calm and precise, “this one has rainbow sprinkles. That means it’s the most powerful one.”
Your daughter giggles, pointing at the screen. “That one’s Bucky’s!”
Bob raises an eyebrow, impressed. “Excellent choice. Very dangerous cupcake.”
Across the room, Alexei is sitting backward in an armchair—knees up, arms draped over the backrest like a golden retriever in a human body—just watching the entire interaction with rapt fascination.
“Look at her. Tactical decisions. Cupcake strategy. She is genius,” he murmurs, eyes wide. “You see this? She will rule us all.”
“Alexei, she decorates cupcakes,” you say tiredly.
“Exactly!” he says, like you’ve proved his point. “That is unpredictable. That is art.”
Bob glances up, sheepish but undeniably soft. “She’s really good at this. Like… scary good. She beat my high score.”
“She’s three,” you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time today.
“Exactly,” Bob echoes, completely serious.
Your daughter turns and beams at you, holding the tablet up in victory. “I made a cat cupcake!”
“You’re a creative genius, sweetheart,” you say with a smile, setting your mug down. “Now let Bob breathe before he has a full-blown cupcake identity crisis.”
“She beat me twice,” Bob mutters, looking at the screen with quiet betrayal.
Alexei grins. “You have been defeated. Welcome to the Bambi Era.”
That makes your daughter puff up with pride, hugging her deer closer. “I’m Bambi.”
You blink at her.
“Okay, okay. You’re Bambi.” you murmur, already accepting defeat.
Alexei makes a dramatic gasp and holds his hand to his heart. “The prophecy is fulfilled.”
And that’s when the elevator dings. The doors slide open with a mechanical hum, and your husband, Bucky steps out—followed closely by Ava, already pulling off her gloves, and John, still mid-complaint about something Ava definitely tuned out five floors ago.
All three look a little winded, mission dust still clinging to them, that sharp post-field energy still buzzing in their shoulders.
Bucky’s the first to clock you.
Then—his eyes land on the small deer-plush-carrying toddler sitting in the middle of the Avengers’ common room rug like she owns the place.
He stops cold.
“What is she doing here?” he asks, blinking like he’s not sure if he’s hallucinating from exhaustion.
Your daughter hears his voice—and immediately bolts to her feet, deer plush bouncing from her arms as she runs.
“Daddy!”
And just like that—everything about Bucky shifts.
The steel in his posture melts in real time. That hard edge in his jaw softens. His arms open like it’s instinct, like they were made just for this exact moment.
He drops his bag without looking. Drops everything.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he breathes, catching her in a sweeping hug and lifting her off the ground like she weighs nothing. “Hi, my girl. Did you miss me?”
She nods furiously, burying her face in his neck. “You were so gone.”
Bucky presses a kiss to her hair, eyes fluttering shut for a second, like the entire day fades away the second she touches him. “I’m here now, baby. I’m here.”
There’s a stunned silence behind him.
John looks like someone just hit him with a frying pan. Ava raises an eyebrow and mutters something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like “holy shit.”
Yelena grins, arms crossed. “Aww. The Winter Soldier has emotions. Someone write that down.”
Alexei is squinting, hand raised like he’s observing wildlife through binoculars.
“She called him Daddy and he went from Terminator to teddy bear in 0.2 seconds,” Bob whispers, genuinely fascinated.
You’re already walking over, arms crossed and smile threatening the edges of your mouth. “Glad to see she’s got you wrapped around her finger, too.”
“She owns me,” Bucky says simply, pressing one more kiss to her cheek. “You should know that by now.”
You snort. “Yeah, well, the rest of the team just found out.”
Bucky turns slightly, finally looking over at the stunned group of adult superheroes who just watched him transform into Dad of the Year.
“She get into any trouble while I was gone?”
“She beat me at tablet games and claimed her superhero name is Bambi,” Bob says numbly.
“She made Alexei cry,” Yelena adds.
“I did not cry,” Alexei huffs, wiping suspicious moisture from his eye. “I was emotionally impacted.”
Your daughter leans back in Bucky’s arms and holds up her deer plush proudly.
“Did you bring me a snack?”
“Your priorities are incredible,” Bucky mutters fondly, already walking toward the kitchen with her still on his hip. “Let’s go find you something good, huh, Bambi?”
She gasps. “You called me Bambi!”
You sigh.
———
Later that evening, the common room has finally quieted. Most of the team has dispersed, save for the ones still floating nearby with post-mission snacks or paperwork. The lights are dimmed, your coffee’s been reheated twice, and you’re curled up in one of the oversized armchairs, finally off your feet.
Across the room, Bucky is sitting on the couch with your daughter perched on his lap, her deer plush tucked snugly under one arm, the other animatedly waving in the air as she recounts—in painstaking detail—every single moment of her day.
“And then Lena spun me so fast, and Uncle Lexi said I was a ballerina, and Bob showed me a cupcake game but I BEAT HIM, and there were pickles but I didn’t want any ’cause they smell bad—Daddy, are you listening?”
She nods proudly. “And the couch is really squishy but not as squishy as ours. But this place has better snacks. And Lena let me jump on the beanbag on purpose. Can I come here always? Please?”
Bucky leans in, brushing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll talk to Mama about it. Maybe not always. But often? I think we can arrange that.”
She beams. “Okay. Also I drew a picture of Bob. He looks like a jellybean.”
You stifle a laugh into your mug.
Yelena slides into the chair beside yours with a quiet flop, arms crossed and an amused glint in her eye as she watches your daughter still rattling off to Bucky like it’s a press conference.
“She is so her father’s daughter,” Yelena says.
You sigh, but you’re smiling. “Yup.”
“Talks like him. Bossy like him. Stubborn as hell.”
You raise your mug. “And weirdly good at knives for a toddler. We’re doomed.”
Yelena snorts. “And you love it.”
You look over at Bucky again—his eyes soft, his fingers gently braiding a bit of your daughter’s hair as she chatters on about Alexei’s beard and how “Lena said I could have a jet one day.”
Your chest swells with something warm and weightless. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “I really, really do.”
⋆⁺₊✧ MASTERLIST
tags: @iamthatonefangirl (dm or comment If you wanna be added to my tag list)
Sambucky "divorce" but it's one of the boys' birthdays and Bucky wouldn't miss it for the world, so, he flies out to Louisiana and pretty much begs Sam on the front doorstep to let him in "Just to drop off the gift and say hello" and "out of respect for his nephews" Sam "reluctantly" agrees.
Only for them to be caught kissing under the trees in the backyard not even thirty minutes later.
Same universe as these but can be read as a standalone, Act of Service , II, and III
Note: There will be one more installment of this little world I created.
Summary: Sometimes the past can hurt your future, you and Yelena both have to learn to overcome it.
Warning: nightmare, mention of Natasha's death, panic attack, mention of domestic violence, almost smut but Fanny cockblocks lol, fluff with small angst, cuddling, pet names like a lot.
Word Count: 3k
The snow began to fall overnight. When you woke up, stretched your arms over your head, and looked out the window, New York City was covered in a blanket of snow. “Well, good morning, New York.” You mumbled and went about your day.
You changed into a warmer outfit, made yourself a cup of coffee in a travel mug that Yelena gifted you for your birthday, and hooked the leash up to your girlfriend’s American Akita. The mountain of a dog was a new addition to living in your apartment. Yelena usually had her parents watch Fanny, but she wanted her close and did not trust team members to watch her dog. So it was up to you, which was fine. You grew up with dogs, so you could manage.
The cold air was a shock to your system. It helped you wake you up more. On your walk, you mentally ran through your to-do list. You needed to place an online grocery order. Laundry desperately needed to be done. There were a few emails that needed to be cleaned out of your inbox, and you wanted to get a head start on a new think piece you wanted to publish. The day was still young, so you had time to sip on your coffee and enjoy the walk.
Suddenly, a body ran into your back, and you stumbled forward. “Oh, miss, I’m so sorry.” You turned around to see a young delivery boy. It seemed he had stacked too many wreaths to carry, which obstructed his view. You smiled.
“No worries!” You picked up the wreath that had fallen and handed it to him. “Maybe do a few extra trips so you can see.” The kid laughed.
“You are probably right,” he said. “But thank you! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.” Strange. How a simple greeting froze you to your spot.
“Same to you,” you said, but the boy was already running towards the brownstone for his delivery. You shook off the feeling and continued on your way.
Right. Christmas. It was December 1st. So New York City was getting ready for Christmas. November flew by as you were very busy with work, which got in the way of celebrating Thanksgiving (Thanksgiving was okay in your opinion, not the best holiday, but not the worst). But god. You hated Christmas. The magic of the holiday was lost on you at a very young age. Before your mom remarried, Christmas was spent picking up shattered beer bottles, then opening presents. Instead of waiting for Santa, you curled up next to your sister and wished he would stop yelling.
Your stepfather was the complete opposite of that man. Still, the holiday was ruined for you. But now you had a girlfriend to do all the cute couple stuff you saw your friends do. Would she want to do that? You would push down your hatred for the holiday if it were important to Yelena.
The front door slowly opened. You stayed at your spot on the couch as you watched Yelena walk into your apartment. Fanny excitedly ran over to the blonde and circled her - probably smelling for treats that were no doubt in her pockets. “Fanny,” the blonde grumbled. “You are making this difficult.” Yelena was trying to take off her boots. You chuckled and closed your laptop. Green eyes that you loved so much fell onto you.
“What’s so funny, pretty girl?” She asked.
“Nothing, Lena,” you smiled. “You are just cute.” Her cheeks became more flushed than they already were from the cold.
Finally, she gave Fanny the treats and took off her winter jacket. In no time, she crossed the distance to you and lay down on the couch. Her head went to your lap. “Long day?” You asked, playing with her hair.
“The longest,” she mumbled. “I hate reporters.” You took no offense to it since you were technically one. You knew she hated the ones who twisted her words around to make her out to be the bad guy. You hated them as well. Suddenly, her hands went underneath your sweater.
“Yelena!” You shirked. “Your hands are freezing.” You tried to squirm away, but your girlfriend forced you to stay put. Her laughter was muffled.
“You are so warm, though.” After a few more seconds, she removed her hands. “Tell me about your day.”
So you told her about the walk you took Fanny on, the dinner ideas you had for a few nights this week, and the progress you made on your next article. December was going to be just as busy as November, it seemed, but you were thankful for the opportunities. “Lena,” your tone shifted, so your girlfriend flipped onto her back to look up at you. “I know it’s a few weeks away, but what do you wanna do for Christmas?” She blinked a few times at you before she sat up to look at you fully.
“Christmas,” you said slowly. “Do you not celebrate it?”
“I mean technically,” you sighed. “I don’t-I struggle,” you huffed. Yelena gently took your hand in hers and kissed the palm. You smiled at the gesture. “I don’t have good memories of that Holiday. My sperm donor,” you never called that asshole your father. “Added more damage than Christmas magic.” Yelena frowned.
“I will kill him.” You knew she would.
“No,” you smiled. “He’s not worth it. But if you want to celebrate that holiday, we can.” Yelena’s frown deepened. You saw a range of emotions pass through her eyes - grief, anger, restatement, and maybe a little disappointment.
“I do not know,” she finally decided on. “I never celebrated Christmas.”
“Oh.” You weren’t expecting that, even though it shouldn’t have surprised you. Her entire childhood was spent in the Red Room. “Well, it’s only Dec 1st, we have time to figure it out.” You tapped her slightly on the thigh before going into the kitchen.
The sound broke through the peacefulness you were experiencing - a sharp, broken whimper. You stirred, still half-dreaming, until you heard another noise. A desperate and broken plea. You sat up instantly, turning on the lamp. Next to you was Yelena - twisting in the sheets, fist clenched, and her face tight with fear. Sweat drenched her hairline. “Lena?” Your voice was thick with sleep.
“No-don’t-” Yelena gasped, breath hitching, and her head shaking as if she was trying to escape something only she could see. Your heart dropped. God, you wished you could take all her pain and hurt away from her.
You reached out, slowly, until your hand touched her shoulder. “Yelena,” you firmly said. “Wake up. You’re safe.” The blonde thrashed against the bed. A sharp intake of air tore from her chest as her eyes flew open. Her gaze was unfocused. “I’m here,” you spoke softly, not loosening your hold on her. “It was a dream.” Her breathing came out fast and shallow. Her body trembled with the aftershock of the nightmare.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped for air.
“You’re okay,” you smiled. “Just breathe with me, baby.” She shook her head.
“I-i c-can’t,” you nodded.
“Yes, yes, you can,” you held her up into a sitting position. “I know it’s really scary, but you can breathe with me,” you placed your forehead against hers. “Breath with me, my sweet girl. I’m here. Just breathe.”
It took a few attempts for her breathing to match yours, but when it did, a sob bubbled past her lips, and she fell forward. The sound and action startled you. Hell, you’ve never seen her cry, and you watched Bucky remove a bullet from her shoulder. Once your brain caught on with what was going on, you leaned over her. Her cries were muffled by the blankets, but the sound was heartbreaking.
Each cry was like a stab to your heart that twisted and twisted until you felt a few tears of your own slide down your cheeks. She cried like she finally could. That the dame she built brick by brick broke. No matter how hard she tried to pull back the water, there was no stopping it. You rubbed circles on her back and heard the paws of Fanny coming to the door. The dog appeared, looking equal parts concerned and worried. “Fanny,” the dog looked at you. “Voda (water).” The Russian word felt weird, but it seemed to do the trick as Fanny ran into the kitchen.
You’ve watched Yelena teach Fanny a few Russian words to help with moments like this. Mostly for Bucky when she was at the tower. She came back with a bottle of water in her mouth. “Good girl,” you praised. “Vverkh (up).” The dog obeyed the command and jumped on the bed.
Yelena shifted slightly to lie on her back and look up at Fanny. With shaky hands, she ran her fingers through the fur. “We are both upside down.” She whispered. Her eyes closed, and a few more tears fell down. Fanny circled a few times before lying down and resting her head on Yelena’s stomach.
“Hey,” you smiled, whipping away some of the tears on her cheek. She gave you a weak smile. “We are going to just sit here for a little bit because it would be rude to move Fanny,” that got you a soft chuckle. “Then we are going to sit up and drink some water, okay?” The blonde nodded, surprisingly, you again. It seemed the nightmare, panic attack, and crying took all of the fight out of her. The three of you sat in silence, you ran your fingers through her hair, and she was petting Fanny.
“Have I ever told you how Fanny got her name?” She asked while looking up at you. You shook your head. “There was a period of time my sister was on the run around 2016.” If you remembered correctly, it had to do with the fallout of the Avengers because of the Accords. You wrote a piece about the document and how you believed it violated basic human rights. “She needed aliases,” Yelena started to laugh at the memory. “One of them was Fanny Longbottom.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. Not long ago, your room was filled with tears, but now it was laughter.
“That is a horrible name.” You said through your laughter.
“It is,” Yelena smile soon fell. “It is her birthday tomorrow. Technically, I think. It’s Dec 3rd.” You looked at the clock on the side table, and it was past midnight. You turned your attention back to your girlfriend.
“Was your nightmare about her?” You asked softly. Yelena nodded. “Alright, time to drink some water.” The blonde huffed but sat up, gently pushing Fanny off of her. Her back was against the headboard as she took a few sips of water. You quickly got out of bed and went into the bathroom to get a damp cloth. When you returned, you sat on the edge of the bed, gently took her chin in your hand, and wiped away the tears and snot. Her eyes closed, and she leaned into it. Once she was cleaned, you threw the towel toward the bathroom. “Do you,” you hesitated as you grabbed her hands. “Wanna talk about it?”
The blonde shrugged. “Nothing really to talk about,” she said. “She’s gone, and I am here. There is no changing that.” She was right. Death was permanent. There were no do-overs or second chances. She continued, “There was a time in my life where I didn’t have anyone. All I did was sit, look at my phone, and think of all the terrible things I’ve done, and then go to work, and then drink. I was going crazy,” she let out a heavy sigh. “I wonder if she felt that way too, during those 5 years.”
Yelena told you early on that she was part of the population that lost 5 years. You were not. “I like to think she would have liked you.” That made you happy.
“Yeah?” Yelena nodded and smiled. “I can’t imagine the grief, the anger, and the resentment of it all,” you watched her shoulders sag as if she could let go of some of the weight she had been carrying. “But you aren’t alone in it. I’m here. Just tell me how I can help.”
“You are helping,” Yelena whispered. “Because you are here and you stayed.” She leaned in first, and you met her halfway and felt her lips against yours. She sighed and tangled her hand in your hair to pull you closer. You went willingly until she lay flat on her back, and you climbed on top of her. Your lips left hers and traveled down her neck and nibbled at the skin there.
“I’m here, baby,” you mumbled. “Never leaving.” Yelena groaned, her hands tightly gripping your hips. “Gonna love you,” you soothed the spot on her neck. “For as long as you let me.” It wasn’t forceful the way she pulled your hair to reconnect your lips with hers, but you moaned nonetheless. Before it got too crazy, a sudden bark caused you to jump and look over your shoulder at Fanny. She looked disappointed in both of you. Groaning, the dog lay back down to go to bed. You laughed.
“I think we are being told to go back to bed.” Yelena huffed.
“Suka,” you got off your girlfriend and lay down. “Can I hold you tonight?” She asked.
“Of course, baby,” you turned off the side light and lay against Yelena’s chest. Her arms held onto you tightly. “Goodnight, Lena.” You closed your eyes.
Yelena was upset to find the bed empty when she woke up. She was hoping to spend a few more hours cuddling after the emotional onslaught. She wasn’t expecting to dream of her sister. Usually, this time of year, she would be drunk off her ass, so her sister’s birthday wouldn’t affect her. This year was different. She had you, and there was no way she was going to be drunk while you were around, which meant all these feelings came boiling up.
It was why she tried to stay busy. If she were focused on her job, then her mind wouldn’t wander. However, you forced her to take breaks, and the mention of the holiday reopened wounds she thought were scabbed over.
Christmas. The last time she celebrated that holiday was in Ohio. The best part of her life was a life. Another mission. Another thing the Red Room controlled. What she wanted was to celebrate the holiday in a big way. But when she shared your past and how your father ruined the holiday for you, she wasn’t going to push. You were so understanding of her. She could give you the same grace.
Sighing, she climbed out of bed and ventured to the rest of the apartment to find you and her dog. She was quick to spot you in the living room. “I think that looks good,” you took a step back to what you were working on. “Don’t you think so, Fanny?” The dog barked, agreeing with you
As you bent down, you uncovered a Christmas tree. While you were bent down, the lights on the tree turned on. Your small apartment was illuminated. “There,” you said, standing back up and petting the dog. “Now we just have to decorate it.” You had a small box of ornaments on the coffee table. You picked one up and then placed it on the branch. If you weren’t happy with the placement, you took it off and tried again.
“What are you doing, baby?” You jumped, dropped the ornament, and yelped. Grabbing onto your heart, you faced her.
“Don’t do that,” you said as you picked up the ornament. “You almost gave me a heart attack.” Yelena chuckled and walked over to you.
“Why do you have a Christmas tree up?” She asked. “You hate Christmas.” You placed the ornament down and held out your hand. She took it, and you pulled her close. You stood behind her so she could face the tree. Your arms went around her waist, and your chin on your shoulder.
This felt like the most natural position - the safest she ever felt was in your arms. You sighed, kissing her shoulder. “I don’t hate Christmas,” you mumbled. “It’s not my favorite. But,” you sighed again. “I think it’s better to let go of the past to move towards a brighter future. It might take time, but I will learn to love this holiday for you.”
Yelena turned her head to look at you. “How did you know?”
“I replayed that conversation in my head from yesterday. I saw disappointment that you tried to mask. I love you, and that overrides my feelings for this holiday.”
Yelena touched the ornament on the tree and stared at her reflection in the glass. She really couldn’t believe this was her life. Free from the Red Room, she was working to clear the red off her ledger. Most of all, she had you. Of course, she wished her sister were here. But Natasha sacrificed herself so she could live. Her sister gave her a second chance at life. Regardless of how much she hated her for it, she couldn’t waste it. “This is real, right?” She questioned. “Not a mission or an assignment.” She trusted you to tell her the truth. You wouldn’t lie to her as they did.
Yelena felt you smile against her skin. “Yeah, babygirl, this is real. My love for you is very, very real.” This kiss she gave you was short.
“Can we decorate the tree together?” She tried to keep her excitement down, but she failed miserably. You chuckled.
“Of course.” You picked up the box of ornaments and handed them to her one by one. There was a heaviness that surrounded Yelena. She believed it would follow her forever. It suffocated her, left her disoriented, and made it difficult to breathe. It was becoming lighter. Day by day, because of the light you illuminated. She loved you more than words could describe.
Summary: Demanding that Val hire a warm body to handle their paperwork, Bucky and the other New Avengers aren’t expecting someone who seems to understand them and believes in them.
Length: 7.6 K
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Valentina de Fontaine, OFC (named, somewhat described), Yelena Belova, other New Avengers, Sam Wilson.
Warnings and other notes: Implied sexual contact. Curse words. The images in the title banner are taken from FATWS where Bucky walks down the hallway towards Yori Nakajima's apartment. The sense of doom that I felt from his long walk gave me the inspiration for this one shot. Set after Thunderbolts*/New Avengers.
The moment Valentina Allegra de Fontaine blindsided Bucky and the others by introducing them as the New Avengers he knew that once again his life was no longer his own. Everything he had done to prove he could function in the 21st century, changing his image, running for office, and spearheading the investigation against her was wiped out with those words.
He should have walked away or said no out loud right then and there, making it clear that he wouldn't work with anyone like her. Hours later he almost did, but the others, Yelena, Alexei, Ava, and John convinced him that they needed him. They wanted this chance to be seen as a force for good but didn't know how unless he showed them. He, Bucky Barnes, was needed by this ragtag group of former killers. Besides, they had to stay together to protect Bob from Val. Bob needed them.
Sam had been livid and rightly so. With one short hastily arranged speech de Fontaine had pulled the rug out from all of his lobbying and organizing efforts by taking the Avengers name away from him, after she had so publicly diminished the concept as dead in the water. That's what made it hurt even more. Bucky felt caught up in an endless battle, trying to find a middle ground that would work. He tried to be the leader that the New Avengers needed; someone who could help them navigate the fine line between acting for the better good while tempering the more negative aspects of their personalities. They were a work in progress but he only had so many hours in the day to make this rag tag crew work together as a team, which meant something else didn't get the attention it required. That something, paperwork, became the bane of Bucky's existence, that and constantly pushing back against Val when she assigned some incredibly dangerous missions to them.
Several months after the New Avengers were announced, he had once again given her a hard time on the intelligence she provided for a mission. Just as he warned her, it was a shit show and they were in over their heads almost from the moment they got there. They finally prevailed but came back hurt, angry, and not in the mood to spend hours filing a mission report. As they came off the quinjet and gathered on the landing pad, limping, bloody, with torn clothes, Bucky looked at all of them.
"Go, have a long shower, get something to eat, watch some TV, go to bed. We'll meet in the morning and come up with a way to write this all down."
Val arrived just as they were shuffling towards the landing pad doors.
"You're not done." She glared at all of them. "I need your mission report as soon as possible."
"You can wait until the morning," replied Bucky, coming forward to stand in front of his team. "We barely got out of there intact because of your poor intelligence. We're banged up, hungry and tired."
He moved to go past her, with the others following him.
"If you don't get the report done, you're fired," she declared.
Everyone stopped, including Bucky. Bob, who was watching from the doorway since he had stayed behind, saw a range of emotions flicker over Bucky's face, then he breathed out and turned back to look at Val.
"Go ahead," he stated. "I'm sure the press would like to know why."
"If you fire Bucky, you have to fire me," said Yelena, standing next to him.
Bucky started walking away again, smiling slightly when he heard the others following him. As he passed by Val, John leaned towards her.
"Can't have a New Avengers without anyone to do the job, can you?"
They kept going, with Bob still watching as Val turned to Mel behind the others, angrily chastising her for not saying anything to back her up. Shushing Mel before she could even reply, Val made one last attempt to get control of the situation.
"You know I could make you all look bad by making sure all of your misdeeds are brought out into the light of day."
Bucky shook his head and stopped, looking back at her.
"Seriously? When we have Bob, and proof of your Sentry program? When three of the New Avengers can point the finger directly at you as the person who hired them to do her dirty work? Remember that I still have a ton of evidence implicating you in a whole lot of shady shit just waiting to be released. Who do you think is going to believe you when most of Congress already knows you're dirty? Seriously, Val. You've lost your edge."
"If it is so important for you to know the details of our missions, then maybe you should come on them," said Yelena in her flattest monotone.
"I don't go on missions," snapped Val. "Honestly, how did any of you ever succeed at anything?"
"We had handlers," replied Bucky, glaring at her. "I was an asset, not a scribe. If asked, I gave an oral mission report, my handler recorded it and that was that."
"Same," said Yelena and Alexei.
Ava nodded in agreement and added her opinion. "You were happy with that when three of us didn't know we were all working for you."
"I wrote reports when I was in the army." John looked up from where he was scrolling through his phone. "But my CO assigned a corporal to take over as I didn't use enough military bullshit to justify the extent of our actions. Why don't you just hire someone to write them for us? Let us tell them what we did then they can write what you want to read."
They all knew they weren't good at things that Val thought were important, things that made her look good to the people with the money. After several months of risking their lives for her glory, they were united about pushing back.
"I think that's a good idea, John." Yelena stood next to Bucky again as she glared at the woman who really only cared about holding on to her power. "You have Mel to do all your bidding and you're only one person. We're six people, risking our lives for you, and making public appearances on behalf of the New Avengers whenever you have your little get-togethers, but we don't get someone to keep us organized. You can afford it."
"Fine, I'll hire someone," snapped Val, "but you better get used to giving more details in your verbal reports. I don't want to hear anything like "We came, we kicked ass, we returned." Understand?"
"Ooh, I like that," boomed Alexei. "New Avengers T-shirts with that on front. Will sell many to our fans."
With a huff of disgust, Val stomped away, followed by Mel, who told Bucky she would find someone capable. He breathed out, feeling good at having won this battle but still wondering what it would cost them. Val always had to come out on top; it was who she was.
Later, after he showered and changed, then came out to where Bob had made spaghetti and meat sauce for everyone, he grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, writing down in point format some notes on the mission. Yelena, sitting next to him, read off the pad, adding some more of her thoughts. As Alexei and John began a discussion on the differences between American football and soccer, she looked at Bucky, lowering her voice.
"You think Val will come through?"
He shrugged. "She better. Were you really willing to walk out in support of me?"
She was quiet for a moment, watching her father and John become more animated in their discussion. Then she breathed out.
"When I said it, yes, but I'm glad she backed down and I didn't have to prove it." Her green eyes met Bucky's blue ones. "Unless Sam Wilson is willing to let me be on his team, I have nothing else except to be a mercenary and you know I can't do that anymore."
"I know." He smiled grimly at her. "I don't think anyone else wants that either. It will work out. It has to."
He had to believe that eventually all this fighting with Sam and his team would blow over and the two teams could find a way to work together. Even with all their problems, this group was worth it, even the two loudest members of it, who were currently trying to prove their point by bringing up highlight videos of soccer and football on their cell phones and pushing the evidence into the other's face.
Meeting the next morning, they cobbled together a mission report. Bucky, as leader, walked to Val's office to give it directly to her. She wasn't even there, although Mel was. She took it with her usual embarrassed smile, trying to explain that Val was already on a quest to find someone to handle all the team's administrative duties. He didn't really believe that when he could see Val on the monitors in the foyer outside of her office, attending a luncheon in Washington, where she was laughing and fawning over a number of the President's cabinet members. Yeah, she was right on it.
Two days later, the elevator opened to Val, accompanied by Mel and another woman. The third woman immediately drew their attention as she was dressed in a well tailored suit jacket over a white blouse and pencil skirt. Looking appraisingly at the decor, she seemed to appreciate it, then she focused her attention on the team. Bucky couldn't help but notice that she was stunning to look at, and very self-assured.
"This is the lounge area for the New Avengers team." Val strode forward, her fake smile in full force. "Guys, this is your new administrative liaison officer, T.J. Lawford. Not only will she be handling your mission reports, she has also agreed to assess the compiled intelligence for your missions and determine if it is valid enough to proceed. She has a lot of experience in the field but is looking to transition into an administrative role."
Bucky stood up first, extending his hand. Their eyes met and she immediately took his hand in hers.
"You must be Bucky Barnes," she said, giving him a firm handshake. "I'm very happy to be working with a real Howling Commando." She looked past him, smiling as he was still holding her hand. "Please, introduce your team."
His voice caught making him cough to clear his throat. "Yeah, Yelena Belova, Ava Starr, John Walker, Alexei Shostakov, and at the back there is Bob Reynolds."
Stopping at each person, she shook their hands, bringing up a small positive fact from their past. It was obvious she had either done her homework or had been briefed well by Val as she focused all of her attention on each individual in turn. When she stopped in front of Bob, she shook his hand with both of hers, addressing him with understanding and compassion.
"Can I just say that your remarkable journey from your difficult past to being a part of this team is inspiring."
"I don't do anything," he replied, stammering softly.
"That's not what I hear," she replied. "You mean a lot to your teammates, even in the support role you've chosen. There's nothing wrong with that and if that's the role that serves you and the team best, then that's how it is."
"Really?"
He was surprised at her response, since he knew Val was always asking Bucky when he was going to implement Sentry. T.J. nodded her head, smiling at him with reassurance. Turning to Val, she made it obvious that she wanted to spend time alone with everyone. Nodding her head, Val turned on a dime and walked to the elevator, with Mel scurrying to catch up to her. Once they were out of sight, T.J. kicked off her heels and sunk down into one of the couches, curling her feet up under her.
"There, she's gone and we can relax. Man, she is still as wired as she was when she was my supervisor in the CIA. Her sense of decorating is still the same; all glass and steel. Cold, just like her heart." No one had moved, seemingly stunned at the complete change in attitude. T.J. didn't miss a beat. "Please, sit. You're making me nervous. I know exactly what type of person Contessa Valentina Allegra de Fontaine is. Unfortunately for her I'm at a point in my life where I need a challenge. As your administrative officer, I know that I can work from the Tower, go home most nights and look myself in the mirror each morning, without feeling like I've sold my soul or yours."
"You worked with her before?" asked Yelena, sitting beside her. "In the CIA?"
"Before she got big ideas about being the head of it." She looked up to the others. "Seriously, sit, and I'll answer any questions you have, as long as you don't ask me to reveal anything that is still covered by all the secrecy acts and executive orders."
For the next hour they learned a lot about T.J., her time spent in the CIA, the number of missions where she had to hold her nose knowing that the job was going to stink to high heaven, even on the price she paid by not having much of a personal life because of the demands of the job. She was smart, outspoken, sympathetic to how they were pulled into Val's scheme, and appearing to be a good fit with them.
It seemed to be proved just a few days later when she came straight to them with a brief on a new mission and pulled up the file on the large monitor in the briefing room. As she read the objectives, then looked for the intelligence files in the computer and brought up the first one, she suddenly swore a blue streak, and left the room. Following her, they watched as she marched into Val's office without knocking and slammed the folder down onto her desk.
"What the actual fuck are you trying to pull with this mission?" she demanded. "I remember this place from one of our past CIA missions. It was a shit show then and nothing has changed. There's no way I'm sending my team in to have their asses kicked unless you provide better intelligence as well as a working exit strategy if it goes tits up, which it likely will."
Standing in the foyer, they could see Val studying T.J.'s face as she stood in front of the desk with her hands on her hips, one leg off to the side. Bucky frowned a little, impressed with this confrontation but there was something about the look on Val's face that bothered him, as if she was pretending to be shocked at this behaviour. By the murmurs of the others, they weren't seeing what he saw, instead wondering if Val was going to lose it. Then she cocked her head in that way she usually did when caught in a lie, and smiled her fake accommodating smile.
"I'll go back to my sources and tell them to step up their surveillance," she replied, then handed T.J. a new folder. "That mission won't go until you're satisfied. In the meantime, here's a little one that should go better."
Opening it up, T.J. scanned it, then folded it close, and turned around, noting how the team were waiting for her. Approaching them, she raised the new folder in her hand.
"Let's see what's up with this one."
They walked through it, and the supporting intelligence files on the computer indicated it would be a straightforward operation, with minimum risk and maximum benefits. Letting Bucky take on the actual planning, she sat back, contributing every so often, then when he had built a workable plan for everyone that they all agreed upon, stood up and told them it would be a go the next day. As she left to coordinate their transportation Yelena sat with him, looking in the direction T.J. went.
"She seems to care about our safety," she murmured. Bucky nodded, watching for her to appear again. "You like her."
"I think she'll do a good job working with us."
"No, you "like" her. I know the difference between how you look at a woman you work with and a woman you like. She is someone you like."
He huffed a little. "I've only known her a few days."
"Yes, that's the problem. Be careful around her."
Leaving him there before he could say anything in response, Bucky was puzzled why Yelena would say that. Yes, T.J. was attractive with her incredible hair, nice figure and attitude that was no-nonsense. Why shouldn't he like her?
The next day went like clockwork. Everything that they planned fell into place and they were back just after nightfall. After showering and eating dinner with the others, everyone dispersed, agreeing to meet with T.J. for their verbal debriefing the next day. She and Bucky were the last ones around the table. Picking up her plate she carried it over to the dishwasher, and placed it inside, then repositioned some of the other dishes, muttering about Alexei's sense of organization. Bucky joined her, placing his plate and cutlery in the racks. Stepping back, he watched as she put the leftovers away, then loaded the pots and pans, and the detergent before latching the door and starting it.
"Well, I better get home," she said. "My cat will be hungry."
"You have a cat?" he asked.
"Yeah, Cleo." She pulled her cell phone out and opened a folder marked Her Majesty. "She's just a stray but she thinks she's a queen."
Flicking through them, he smiled, then handed the phone back, noticing that she was watching him intently. Touching his beard, he wiped it with his right hand, thinking he had leftover food on it.
"Sorry, you didn't have anything on your beard," she chuckled. "Occupational hazard from too many stakeouts and surveillance missions. I watch people and kind of forget I'm doing it."
"Me too." They stood without talking for a moment, then Bucky blurted it out. "Do you want to get a drink?"
"I would love to, but not tonight," she answered, looking at him with regret. "I've been here since before the sun rose and Cleo will be at the door waiting to be fed." He nodded then turned away. "Will you give me a rain check? I bought one of those automatic feeders but haven't set it up yet. I'll do that when I get home so that it's not an issue tomorrow."
"Alright," he smiled. "Tomorrow. You have a good night."
"You too, Bucky. Good work today."
She watched him leave, then her smile left her face as she went to her office and picked up her jacket and purse. Her phone rang and she checked the hallway outside of her office before answering it.
"Sorry, I had to stay late but I'm just leaving now. Grabbed something to eat earlier." She listened to the other voice. "I'm sorry. That's my favourite, too. We can have dessert together. Alright, see you soon. Love you."
Ending the call, she put her phone in her purse and turned out her office lights, then closed her office door. As she headed towards the elevator the automatic lights changed to evening levels, dimming in brightness. Taking her car keys out of her purse, she walked into the elevator when the doors opened and pressed the button for the parking garage. Moments after she left, Yelena came out of the darkened hallway near where T.J.'s office was, went inside and removed a bug. Taking her own phone out, she looked up a contact as she returned to her room and entered it. Hesitating, she pressed Call and waited for it to be answered.
"Sam Wilson," said the man's voice. "Who is this and how did you get my number?"
"Sam, this is Yelena Belova. Don't hang up, please. Can I meet you? It is about Bucky."
There was a heartbeat of silence. "Is he alright?"
"Yes, but I am concerned about a new development here at the Tower. It's better if I explain in person."
"Tomorrow morning, 10:30. I'll text you a place. This better be on the level."
"It is. I am ... concerned."
"Tomorrow then."
Exhaling in relief, she hoped that what she asked of Sam Wilson wouldn't put a further wedge between the two men.
The following day, they had their debrief, with Yelena speaking first as T.J. entered the details in her laptop. As soon as she was done, Yelena left, saying she had some errands to run. The others took their turns, ending with Bucky, who sat next to T.J. as she compiled everything into a readable report that Val would accept. When she was finished and printed it off, they both signed it and he walked with her to Val's office, leaving it with Mel. Outside the office, T.J. glanced at her watch.
"Hungry? I know a great place for a chili dog and a beer."
With a grin, he deferred to her, waiting as she got her purse and they left together, noticed by the others, except Yelena, who was still out. On the crowded street, T.J. walked with purpose. In the brilliant sunshine that peeked between the skyscrapers, her hair shone, accentuating the red tones that reminded Bucky of another time, in an arcade at Rockaway Beach, and the money he spent trying to win a stuffed bear for a long dead girl named Dot. A helicopter took off from one of the helipads on the waterfront and they could see it fly over everything. T.J. stopped, watching it with this faraway look on her face, seeming impressed at a city where helicopters could take off and land every few minutes.
After another ten minutes they came to a little hole-in-the-wall business that advertised the best chili dogs in the city. Entering, they joined the lineup, and studied the menu. She chose a chili cheese dog with jalapeño chiles on the side, and a canned beer. Bucky ordered the same. Paying for it before Bucky could get his wallet out, she gestured to a table that just opened and sat in it. When their order was called Bucky went up for it and brought it back to the table. She watched him as he bit into it, nodding his head appreciatively.
"That is good," he said.
"Try the next bite with a couple of jalapeños," she suggested before she took her first big bite.
Taking her advice, he tried it, then quickly took a long drink of his beer after.
"I think I like it better without."
"Princess," she teased, as she loaded up her hot dog with the rest of hers and his, much to his amusement. "You're not supposed to feel your tongue after."
"How did you know about this place?" he asked.
"You hear things when you're on stakeout with your partner." She shrugged. "I could tell you where a lot of good cheap food is. I'm sure you know of many, being from Brooklyn."
He took another modest bite of his chili dog, then used his fork to get to some of the excess chili.
"What made you leave the CIA?"
She was mid-bite when he asked but looked as if she expected his question.
"A mission gone wrong from bad intel," she said. "Lost some people, good people; the type you would trust with your life. Thought someone should pay for the mistakes. The leadership blamed the wrong people. I was done. If you can't trust the top, then what's the point of supporting them?"
"And Val? You trust her?"
She smirked, then looked out the window. "No, but I know her well enough to recognize when she's lying and that's when I threaten to walk. I've done a few outside jobs for her, nothing illegal." She added that qualifier a little too quickly. "That Sentry project scared me and when the Void hit Manhattan I knew it had something to do with it. Bob's a sweetheart and she took complete advantage of him. If I can keep him safe from her manipulation, that will be worth putting up with her shit."
Her phone notifications went off and she read the message, texted back then looked apologetically at him.
"You have to go, don't you?"
"Yeah, I have some personal things to take care off before I go back to the office. We're still on for that drink later, aren't we?"
He nodded, quickly finished his chili dog and drank his beer. She tossed the rest of her food in the garbage can, then stepped outside with him.
"I'm headed this way. If anyone asks, tell them I'll be back in about an hour."
"Okay, see you later."
He watched her walk away, then turned back towards the Tower, wondering what would have made her cut her lunch short. By the time he got to the Tower he had a list of perfectly reasonable explanations, telling himself that T.J. didn't owe him any of them. She had a private life, so did everyone else. Except ... it was just a feeling that there was something that she was deliberately keeping hidden.
On his return, he changed into workout gear, joining the others who were all in the gym, even Yelena. She smiled curtly at him, then sniffed as he set up on the machine next to her.
"You smell like hot dog."
"Chili cheese dog, actually. T.J. showed me a place that's really good. I lived on those in Washington."
"Where is she?"
"Had some personal business to take care of. She'll be back in a while."
He started doing some hip lifts, concentrating on that. Yelena didn't ask him any more questions but he could feel her eyes on him. Whatever other questions she had about T.J. obviously weren't pressing, otherwise she would be pestering him, so he ignored her and did his full workout. After a few hours of that, he showered and changed into something more casual. Heading to his quarters, he picked up a book he had been reading and opened it to where he left off.
When he came out several hours later, dinner was already done and the place was empty, so he helped himself to some leftovers, wondering why no one came to tell him the food was ready. As he ate, he realized it was really quiet and listened carefully for the sounds of anyone on the floor. Then he heard footsteps and turned around to see T.J. approaching him.
"Hey, where is everyone?"
"Sent them to a team building activity," she replied, coming right up to him.
"Without me?"
"I told them I had some intelligence to go over with you, as team leader, before we sprung it on them." She held up a folder. "Wasn't lying about that." Dropping it on the table next to him she raised her hand to his hair, gently brushing some of the longer strands off his face. "Truthfully, I wanted you to myself." He stopped and swallowed nervously. "Have I misread the signals between us? You do like me, right?"
"Yes, I do. Are you coming on to me?"
She nodded as her face brightened considerably. "Is that alright?" She pulled a chair over, sitting so she was right beside him, her knee touching his. "You are an interesting man, Bucky Barnes. I've followed your path, from when you first appeared in your previous incarnation to when you were tricked into being a New Avenger." He frowned. "I figured Val set you all up for that. Covering her ass, as usual. You need someone who knows how to handle her."
"I thought I was doing that."
"You were trying. I'm better at it. It helps that I'm attracted to you." She watched him for a moment. "Of course, if you want to keep it professional I can do that. Whatever you're comfortable with."
He licked his lips, looking down at his hands. "I'm kind of out of practice."
"How long has it been?"
It took him some time to answer. "1943."
"That's a long drought," she murmured, coming closer. "Sounds like you need some rain to fall." Her hand squeezed his knee. "I have a bottle of bourbon in my desk. We could have a drink in your quarters and see where it leads us." She leaned close enough for her mouth to gently brush against his ear then moved down to his neck. "Please let me help you."
Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to appreciate how nice it felt to be touched like this. Her hand, which had started at his knee, was slowly moving up, and as the blood rushed to his groin, he knew that he was going to say yes. It had been such a damn fucking long time.
A couple of hours later, the others got back, noticing there was an unfinished meal at the table. Ava scraped the food into the garbage can and put the dishes into the dishwasher, while Alexei and John looked inside the fridge for something to eat. Bob stood with Yelena, looking towards the hallway where their quarters were.
"Are you worried about him?"
"Yes. He is with her and she is not what she appears to be."
He breathed out. "No. She's nicer than Val, but she's still hiding things. What can we do?"
"Nothing." She looked at him. "Say nothing to the others yet. I'm working on finding out more about her but until I have proof, he won't listen."
It was obvious the next morning that something had happened. Bucky was smiling and relaxed at breakfast, although he kept his thoughts to himself. When T.J. arrived on the elevator, his eyes followed her as she went straight to Val's office. Yelena watched and waited until she came out with a folder.
"Well, it looks like Val's sources came up with more intel on that first mission that we rejected," she said. "Eat up and we'll meet in half an hour to go over it, see if it meets our standards. By the way, how did axe throwing go?"
"I loved it," boomed Alexei. "I want axes in the armoury. They could be very useful."
"I'll look into that," she said. "Anyone else want to share their thoughts?"
"How did your planning go with Bucky?" asked John. "Thought you two would still be here when we got back."
"We got through things fairly quickly. Then I went home to my cat," smiled T.J. She waved the folder as Yelena and Bob looked at each other. "Don't be late."
With the new intelligence provided by Val's contacts, the mission seemed doable to all of them. After two days of planning, the team approved the operation and the logistics were arranged. During those same two days, days where Bucky smiled more and seemed like a different man, it became obvious to the rest of the team that he and T.J. had something going, although neither of them made mention of it. By the morning they were ready to leave, everyone knew their part and they were all confident in their chances of success. That lasted until it became obvious during the mission that the intelligence was wrong.
They took a beating, with Yelena and John suffering gunshot wounds that Bucky treated on the quinjet after putting it into autopilot. As he muttered that none of the new intelligence seemed to make any difference Yelena started to say something then stopped. Bucky stared at her as he applied a dressing to her shoulder.
"What were you going to say?"
"Nothing that can't wait."
"No, I want to hear it." He pulled his latex gloves off, tossing them into the garbage receptacle and planted himself in front of her. "I'm waiting."
"The new intelligence was fake," she said, looking directly at him. "It was the same mission we rejected on the day T.J. started."
John looked down at his hands but he didn't protest her words. Bucky looked over at Ava and Alexei who both nodded in agreement with her.
"You're saying she knew and faked the intel so we would do it? Why would she do that? She went through a similar thing when she was in the CIA and quit because of it."
"She didn't quit." It became awfully quiet in the aircraft, even with the sound of the engines and internal systems. Bucky felt hot inside, as his anger was ignited. Yelena continued. "She was fired because it was her job to scout out the location but she missed important information. She told Val about the mistake but she approved the mission anyway and blamed T.J. for it. Two agents died. I asked a friend to do some digging on her. Her real name is Tara Jane Medford and she's married with a child."
His heart pounded in his ears. She had to be wrong. T.J. was good at her job. She stood up to Val all the time. She wasn't married; she was divorced and lived with a cat. Since she quit the CIA she had worked on only a few of Val's outside operations before leaving that life for good. After that she was a purchasing agent and then decided to get into human resources before Val offered her the administrative role for the New Avengers, as a peace offering. It was all shared with him in the sanctity of his bed, their bodies still warm from the only consensual sex he'd had since the war. Slowly, his fists clenched.
"What's she been doing since then?"
Yelena looked sadly at him. "She worked for O.X.E., running one of Val's labs that was shut down when your investigations while you were a Congressman got too close."
"No, your friend is wrong. She wouldn't lie to me about that."
"I asked Sam to find out about her because I couldn't do it at the Tower without being discovered. He was going to call you when we got back from this mission and tell you everything." Everyone was looking at him as he absorbed all that Yelena told him. "I'm sorry."
He barely nodded his head. "Let me handle this," he voiced. "No one says anything to her about what Yelena just said." Looking at each of them in turn he waited for their individual agreement then he looked at her again. "Sam knows?"
"Yes. I knew you would trust his word."
"Yeah," he uttered, then returned to the pilot's seat and focused on the cockpit readouts.
The remainder of the flight was too quiet, as the others stayed in back, not bothering Bucky at all. When he landed the quinjet and they came off as a group, T.J. was there, along with Val, Mel and Bob.
"I feel sick about this," said T.J., when Bucky reached them. "We think the sources we used were compromised. Either that or someone was bought off."
"Yeah, something like that," said Bucky. He turned to the others. "John and Yelena, report to medical. Everyone just chill for the night and we'll debrief in the morning."
"Well, you got the job done," responded Val, using her fake concerned smile, even as her eyes glittered in satisfaction. "That's what's important, right?"
"Yeah, I guess."
Slowly, they dispersed, leaving Bucky and T.J. alone. He started walking towards his quarters, but she put her hand on his arm.
"Do you want me to come by later?"
"No, I think I'll have a shower, then I'll go for a walk, try to clear my head." He smiled at her, trying to make it look sincere. "It'll be alright. I just need some time alone."
"Sure, but you can call me if you change your mind."
He nodded at her, then shuffled off. In his quarters, he undressed, then took a quick shower. As he dried himself off, he looked at himself in the heated mirror that dissipated the steam quickly, then at the assortment of grooming products and brands that Val had asked the whole team to use ever since she had changed their images to something less intimidating to the public. She showed more loyalty to their sponsors than she showed to the team. In a moment of angry frustration, he swept it all off the counter onto the floor then stood over it, breathing heavily. They had played him. Val had found a weakness and exploited it; his aloneness that he forced on himself, unwilling to open himself up to almost everyone. Well, he would see how she liked the new him, when he showed up not looking like New Avenger Bucky Barnes.
Quickly, he combed his hair but didn't style it, then he got dressed and grabbed his jacket and cell phone, heading to the elevator without stopping to talk to anyone. When he got outside, he walked around a bit, battling the nervous energy that threatened to overwhelm him. Feeling a sense of being watched, he jumped up onto a low building and ran across the rooftops, wanting to get rid of any tails that Val put on him. When he was sure he was in the clear he headed to Brooklyn, walking into his old barber shop and asked for a short haircut. Paying in cash, he walked out of there, then phoned Sam.
He confirmed everything that Yelena told him with the addition that T.J. had been the scapegoat sacrificed for Val's ambitions. Her employment with O.X.E. had been mostly above board, as her lab was involved in legitimate research but it was still funded by an illegal slush fund.
"Your team cares about you," said Sam, when he finished telling Bucky everything. "Yelena says you're a good leader and you put up with a lot of their mistakes because you believe in them having a second chance."
"She's still a pain in the ass." He sighed. "How did I miss this, Sam? Don't answer that. I already know."
"I feel like I'm partly to blame," said his friend. "I've been pretty hostile to you and wouldn't listen but Yelena explained how Val set you all up and blindsided you with her announcement. She told me about Bob, how you stay to protect him from being used by Val. That's ... that's noble, Buck. She and the others are loyal to you and to trying to do things right."
"I know." He breathed out again. "We thought we had finally managed to stand up to Val and pried one of her fingers off the control stick but she just sent in a proxy to manipulate us, especially me." He swore softly. "The worst of it is that we liked T.J. She was funny, supportive and she had been in the field. We related to her and thought she related to us." Fuck it. He needed to talk to her, without Val nearby. "Sam, do you know where she lives?"
"I don't think that you should go over there."
"I'm not going to hurt her. I just want to tell her not to come back. Please, send it to me." Sam was quiet for a long time, then Bucky's phone chimed with a text message containing an address. "Thanks. I'm going to deal with this now, then I'll probably wander around for the rest of the night. If I could get drunk, I would."
"Yeah, me too. Take care, Buck. You'll get through this; we all will."
Her address wasn't far, taking him about fifteen minutes to arrive at an older well-maintained apartment building. Texting Yelena, he asked if T.J. had left yet and was told that she went home an hour before. She must be here, with her husband and child. Entering the vestibule, he was shocked that it didn't have a secure door. Anyone could go inside. As former CIA, surely she must know that. Taking the stairs to the third floor he stopped at the closed door, willing his heartbeat to slow down. It wasn't the stairs that made his heart beat faster; it was the anxiety that was building in him, wondering what he would say, and how he could look at her without wanting to shake her. Despite what he said to Sam, Bucky wasn't sure he wouldn't react to her with anger and a wish to hurt her.
The door that accessed the fourth floor opened above him and footsteps approached the stairs, forcing him to open the door to the hallway and going through it. Standing at the end of it, he looked towards the other end, at the arched entryway that mirrored the one he was standing in, at the updated wall sconces that really didn't fit in with the age of the building. Putting one foot in front of the other, he stepped, then he stepped again and found his rhythm, as slow as it was. Glancing at the numbers, he realized her apartment was at the other end, dragging out this journey to a confrontation that he dreaded.
The door number appeared and he turned his head first to look at it, before forcing the rest of his body to stand before it. It was just a door, an ordinary door; all he had to do was knock on it and tell her that he knew. But his hands wouldn't work, wouldn't lift up from where they were clenched at the sides of his body and let him rap on it. Looking down, he willed his hands to work, but they stayed where they were, clenching as his body began to tremble from the suspense. Then, all by themselves his knuckles made contact and he heard the voice of a child inside the apartment announcing that someone was at the door. A man opened it, his face brightening in recognition.
"Hey, you're Bucky Barnes. You're here to see Tara? She's told me so much about working with the New Avengers. Come on in."
Bucky shook his head. "I just need to give her a message and it's work related. Perhaps another time."
"Oh, sure. I get it. Hold on, she'll be right here."
The door stayed open as the man went back inside calling to her. Bucky could hear her almost inaudible gasp, then her own hesitant footsteps to the door where her eyes met his, pleading for him not to make a scene; not here, not in front of her husband and child. As much as he wanted to scream in her face, he kept it together as she stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Really? For what? Cheating on your husband? Working for Val? Lying to us? Keeping me in line? Making me fall in love with you?"
"All of it. She owed me, promised me a clean slate, and a chance to get back in the game, with the good guys."
Bucky scoffed. "She promises everyone a clean slate and holds it over their heads all the time. If you think she's good ...." He looked down the hallway and breathed out before looking at her again. "You're off the team. We can't trust you anymore. I don't care what you tell Val but I'm telling her that if you show up again, I'm walking. I'm pretty sure the rest will walk with me."
She nodded her head, then put her hand out towards him but he stepped back out of her reach, not wanting her to touch him ever again. Turning away, he walked down the hallway towards the stairwell he came up, knowing by the silence behind him that she was watching him leave. Once he was outside, he stopped and closed his eyes, raising his face to the sky, allowing himself to breathe.
"You want to get drunk? Misery loves company."
It was Sam's voice, and when Bucky opened his eyes he saw his friend holding up a small flask.
"Called in a couple of favours. This is from New Asgard and I've been assured it has enough of a kick to get you drunk."
Taking it, Bucky started to walk away then he stopped and looked back at this man who had stuck up for him in one way or another for over a decade, even after he tried to kill him more than once.
"How did you get here so fast? I thought you were in Washington."
"I know some sorcerers who don't mind providing a portal when it's for a good reason. My friend was hurting and I didn't want him to be alone."
"So, you'll get drunk with me?"
"Sure, but I'll stick to stuff that won't kill me." He approached. "Thor's waiting for us. He'll keep us both out of trouble."
Pressing his lips together, Bucky nodded and let Sam lead the way.
"Thanks."
"No problem. Nice haircut, by the way."
"Shut the fuck up."
Sam smiled but he didn't say anything more. Instead, he took his cell phone out and texted someone. A moment later a portal opened and the two men walked into it. For tonight, at least, they were friends again; trying to get over the betrayal of someone Bucky loved.
One Shots Masterlist
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Alina finally arrived at where Bob had told them to meet, she checked the coordinates just to be safe. Yes, this was it. But where was he at? Was he hiding from her? It wouldn't surprise her.
Looking around a smile came to her face when she could see Bob up on a hill, under a tree it looked like. She began moving quickly, her training came in handy as she made her way up the hill.
"There you are," the smile was still plastered on her face as she looked at him. He looked better these days, compared to how he seemed just a month ago when all those things happened, "What did you call me out here f..?" her eyes fell to the food and drinks in front of him.
How did he get all of this past the others? Had they known about this? the idea that he had set all of this up made her heart flutter a little, and it was difficult to keep herself together. How did he always manage to get her to feel so girly?
You know what Sam wilson needs to do. Get a rebound. Maybe a handsome salt and pepper guy or gal and they need to be photographed somewhere and it goes viral. Maybe Ava or Yelena sees it and goes
Yelena: *whistles* cap got game. Wow 😳
Bucky: *stares*
Yelena: *shows the picture of some guy/gal kissing his cheek* Hot.
Bucky: *stares some more and abruptly leave the room*
A/N: winter ghost needs more works. My day 14 submission for AA @angsty-april
Bucky’s eyes flutter open, the remnants of sleep still clinging to his mind as he blinks in the early morning darkness. The air is thick with the quiet of the night that hasn’t fully faded, but there’s something different—an unspoken shift in the atmosphere, a faint sound in the stillness.
He lies still for a moment, trying to place it, before the soft sobs reach his ears.
His heart clenches. He knows that sound—small, broken. Ava.
Bucky shifts on the bed, his body turning toward her. Ava has her face buried in the pillow, her body trembling as sobs escape in quiet, jagged breaths. He never wants to wake her when she’s like this, never wants to intrude on those moments, but he can’t leave her to face it alone.
He moves carefully, rolling onto his side and slipping his arm around her waist. His fingers brush over her back, gently, as though testing the waters. The feeling of her body against his makes his chest ache, the weight of her emotions pressing into him like a quiet storm.
“Ava,” he whispers, his voice soft, his breath warm against her ear. “I’m here.”
Her sobs hiccup, quieter now, but they still come in broken, uneven breaths. Ava shifts slightly, but it’s only when Bucky slides closer, pressing his chest to her back, that she seems to relax just a fraction. He pulls her closer, careful not to crowd her, but enough to let her feel the comfort of his presence, and she awakens slowly, her tears still just as strong.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me…” her voice cracks, hoarse with sleep. “I’m just… there are cobwebs in my head.”
He doesn’t ask for details, doesn’t press her to explain. He knows that sometimes, the pain doesn’t need to be understood—it just needs to be held.
Bucky presses his lips to the back of her head, his fingers brushing through her hair, offering what little comfort he can. He doesn’t know the right words to say, but he knows she doesn’t need words right now. She needs him here. With her. Quietly.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, voice low and soothing. “I can’t pretend to understand, but I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll help you clean out the cobwebs.”
Ava’s breathing starts to steady, the frantic sobs slowly fading into quiet sniffles as she sinks back into the safety of his arms. She presses her hand to his, the warmth of her touch grounding him in a way that settles something inside him.
For a long while, neither of them speaks. The silence between them isn’t uncomfortable but is filled with quiet understanding. Ava’s tears eventually fade, leaving only the soft, uneven rhythm of her breathing against his chest.
But then, just when Bucky thinks she might be asleep, he feels Ava shift. She turns in his arms, her face damp with the remnants of her tears, her eyes heavy with something unspoken. She tilts her head slightly, eyes searching his, and before he can stop it, she leans in, lips brushing his.
Bucky closes his eyes, kissing her gently, his hand coming up to frame her face. She scoots closer, her knees brushing his beneath the covers, her hand on his bare chest. Her skin is cool, crackling from being out of her suit, the brackets on his wrists and ankles the only thing keeping her from phasing.
His eyes flick open when her fingers drop to his sweats, pulling at the strings. He knows what she’s trying to do, the same thing he’s done countless times. The thing that isn’t healthy.
It’s gentle at first, her fingers slipping past the hem and cupping his length over his boxers. He grunts, his eyes closing as she strokes him, soft and tentative.
“Ava.” He says her name softly, trying to be gentle. Understanding. Because when he was hurting, that’s all he ever wanted.
She reaches to go below his boxers, her fingers shaking and his hand finds her wrist. Her eyes flick up to his face and they’re still watery, still sad as he pulls her hand away from his length.
“Ava,” he repeats softly, his voice low but firm. “You can’t bury yourself in that. I’ll give you that later, but not…not now. Not because of this.”
Her eyes widen slightly, the realization settling in. She pulls back from him, a quiet, almost imperceptible nod as she looks at him with a mix of sadness and understanding.
“I know,” she murmurs, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”
Bucky looks at her for a long moment, his chest constricting at her expression. He brushes a thumb over her cheek, wiping away the last remnants of her tears. His lips press gently to her forehead, a quiet, intimate gesture that speaks more than words ever could.
He pulls her back against him, holding her close. This time, it’s not about fixing anything. It’s not about finding a way out. It’s about being here, for her. For both of them.
“I’m here,” he whispers again, his voice steady. “You don’t have to go through it alone.”
Ava nestles against him, her breathing finally evening out as she sinks back into the comfort of his embrace. The ache buried deeper than her bones won’t leave, but Bucky isn’t either.
