Another entry for the prompt game with the sweet @tonystarkstoga. Inspired by one of @susieeslei’s Tony&Natasha headcanons. Enjoy!
He could not find the room Natasha had told him about. Bucky’s eyes narrowed. He might have shaken off Hydra’s fucked-up version of a recruitment speech but he hadn’t gone from the Winter Soldier to being unable to find his way in the Avengers’ Tower. With a map.
“JARVIS?” Bucky asked the invisible computerised voice--and boy had that taken time getting used to--suspiciously. ”Is Natasha messing with me?”
“I do not believe so, Mr. Barnes,” the AI answered politely.
Bucky’s suspicion intensified.
“Is Tony messing with me?” Really, it wasn’t even a question. Why had Natasha ever been his first guess?
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to share this information with you,” JARVIS responded faithfully--which was all the confirmation Bucky needed.
Walking down the corridor for the sixth time in slow, measured steps Bucky stopped at a spot of ordinary wall he was 80 per cent sure was supposed to be a door.
“Alright, JARVIS, the easy or the hard way?”
There was a slight pause before the AI replied with something scarily close to exasperation, “Sir does not wish to be disturbed for anything less than an Avengers’ call.”
“The hard way it is,” Bucky confirmed with a nod to himself. Then, without further ado, he slammed his metal hand against the wall.
It was just as well that he hadn’t used his full strength, because the ‘wall’ gave in without any resistance at all, and Bucky found himself stumbling through it gracelessly with a startled squeak.
He regained his balance within a split second of course, but he knew, he knew the footage of this would haunt him for the rest of his life time. He was going to kill them.
“I’m gonna kill them.”
“It has been noted down in your calendar, Mr Barnes,” JARVIS helpfully commented--which meant he was being a cheeky bastard again. “For the twelfth time this week, if you care to know.”
Bucky rolled his eyes and continued along the narrow path, determined but wary. Tony, he had learned the hard way, had an unhealthy obsession with trip wires and other hidden tricks and traps. He really didn’t need to give the rest of the team any more blackmail material than they already had--not that they were faring any better than he was.
The whole insanity had started two weeks ago. Naturally an absent-minded remark by Tony had been responsible for it.
“Are you telling me-,” Clint had demanded, a disturbing look of utter glee lighting up his eyes, after he’d recovered from chocking on his beloved coffee, “That there is a room hidden in this Tower in which you teach Natasha how to pole dance and none of us new about it?”
Tony, hair still sleep-ruffled and covered in a sweatshirt that had been Bucky’s at one point but looked much better on him, had blinked owlishly at them. “What kind of spies are you?” he had asked incredulously. Which they had taken as the challenge it was obviously meant to be.
And thus the grand search for the training room had begun. Personally, what with the faint vibrations of loud music Bucky was beginning to pick up, he felt confident that he was on the right track.
Four days later:
“Are you telling me you found Tony and Natasha’s secret pole dance training room and instead of letting the rest of us know you decided to join in?”
“Wasn’t that the point?”
