Write Into My Arms [1]
Characters: f!Reader, James “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Peter Parker, Hope Van Dyne, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Okoye, T’Challa, Shuri, Clint Barton, Happy Hogan, Dr. Strange, Wong, Bruce Banner, Amelina Rodrigez (OFC), with mentions of Thor, Carol Danvers, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Peter Quill, Gamora, Nebula, Mantis and Drax.
Warnings: Language, Action (in last chapter) and no Beta (just me and Grammerly up in here) :: Word Count: 8885 :: Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader
This was written for @jewelofwinter’s Writing Challenge!! I also incorporated a prompt for @jaamesbbarnes + @sgtjbuccky’s D&S’ Milestone Celebration!!
Prompt: “Tin Man lost Y/N.” (@jewelofwinter’s prompt) + “Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit.” (D&S’ prompt) Bolded in text below. Prompt #1 will appear in the third part while Prompt #2 appears in the second part. The next two parts will be posted by the end of this week. All three will be linked.
Summary: You’re a small time blog writer who is invited to interview the Avengers. ALL the Avengers.
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Looking around the compound’s living room, you can’t help but openly stare. Everything is expensive, even the doorknobs seem to know their elevated worth.
You’ve circled the room three times so far, each time slower than the last as your keen eyes searching out every minute detail. You’ve been waiting for nearly twenty minutes, which isn’t too much of a bother, and from what you’d heard from other reporters and writers isn’t that long of a wait for Tony Stark. Although your boss said that the article was supposed to cover all of the inhouse Avengers…
Happy, Tony’s chauffeur/bodyguard and right-hand man, had brought you into this room and at this point, your overthinking has begun to wonder if being made to wait here is a diversion so that he can get all the Avengers to clear out. After all, Stark Industries controls most of the press about the Avengers and they don’t do interviews...except Tony and every so often, the good Captain Rogers.
You wonder briefly if watching some YouTube would be extremely unprofessional or just a mild, millennial version of unprofessionalism.
Deciding against it, you sit on the plushest and buttery soft black leather couch, fishing around your large purse for your notebook. Carefully flipping past the first pages, you look over the list of Avengers you’ve compiled - along with basic stats, going over them for the umpteenth time since being assigned this article. And, being the person you are, you had arranged them by age, willingness to talk to you, and then on difficulty on opening up for the story.
Fishing out a pen, you make a few last-minute notes, only to feel that tell-tale prickle at the back of your neck alerts you to the three figures lingering in the large entryway that leads towards a hallway. You pop up, smoothing out your dress bottom nervously.
“Oh! Hello. I’m Y/N, writer for Undefined Muses. I’m, uh, here to interview you?”
“You don’t seem to know if you are or not,” Hawkeye, Clint Barton, says with a big smile - the last yellow traces of a bruise fading on his left cheek.
“I wasn’t sure who all had agreed to participate - and I don’t want to force anyone to do if they aren’t interested.”
“Normally, the reporters are kind of rabid about these kinds of interviews,” Natasha replies smoothly, moving into the room and perching on the arm of an oversized loveseat. She’s dressed impeccably, looking like a glamorous movie star from the thirties, with high waist black dress pants and a dark blue silk shirt with tiny red roses dotted all over.
“Well, my boss sent me because I’m,” You pause, searching for the right word. “Demure.”
“I honestly was waiting for you to say ‘unrabid’.” Clint chuckles out, tossing himself into the loveseat that Natasha is perched on directly across from where you stand.
“I’m not sure what writer would use the word ‘unrabid’. I’m also 90% sure that isn’t a word.”
“Only 90%?” Natasha queries, smiling so knowingly it makes you a little wary.
“Well, he said it, so thus it has been made a word. But you won’t find it in a dictionary. So yes, 90%.”
The large brunet, whom you knew as James Barnes, still stood by the hallway they must have come from, watching the interactions with storm blue eyes. Your shoulders tighten, straightening as you realize that they’d sent all the previous assassins in first. Quite the unsettling welcome wagon… Wait. Was this a weird sort of game? Like chicken? You very nearly chuckle, if that’s the case, because little did these people know you weren’t the bravest person - content with hiding behind your words, telling others amazing and heart wrenching stories.
“Will you all be participating?” You finally manage to get out with a smile without nerves making it forced.
“They will,” Comes the answer from behind you - Tony Stark himself, Iron Man in the flesh, says with a confidence you’d only seen on tv. “Miss Y/L/N. So glad you could make it. Plane ride enjoyable?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you so much for the use of your plane.” He waves a hand as he flashes a megawatt smile.
“No problem. No problem at all. Now, I know they’ve probably introduced themselves but that is Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and one of the 100 plus pair, Bucky Barnes.”
“Nice to meet you all,” They all nod as Tony rubs his hands together then claps.
“Now, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying, I’ll have Happy drop your luggage in there while I show you around -”
“I’m sorry - uh, staying?” You tilt your head a tad to the left, blinking at the illustrious Mr. Stark.
“Yes. Of course, you’ll be staying here in the compound. Rhodey, Steve, and Sam are headed home as we speak, should be here sometime early tonight. Wanda and Vision are on their way back, they were having brunch at a nearby vineyard. Oh, and Thor, the Guardians of the Galaxy, and Captain Danvers should be in - oh, I don’t know - maybe 3 or 4 days. Everyone else is on site.” Logically, you know your mouth is open. You also know you should close it, but the shock…
Every. Single. Avenger.
Fuck.
“Um, I just...Sir, I didn’t mean...I only just brought...ALL OF THEM??”
“To answer your oh so eloquent questions, I did tell your boss I would be getting you as many as possible. I would have thought Mrs. Rodrigez, was it?, would have conveyed the seriousness,” He gives a little huff, smile firmly in place. “Anyhow, you’ll manage. FRIDAY will have a list of shops that will deliver here - we have a tab, just feel free to add to it.”
“Sir -”
“Tony,” He corrects.
“Tony. I will manage my own clothes, thank you. My boss did stress the importance of this interview block. I was told, however, that this was by choice for the Avengers or Stark Industries staff. Not that you’d make them come from outer space to be riddled with questions. And, Tony, I honestly don’t know why our little site was chosen to write these interviews to begin with, sir. How do you even know who I am…” You were so focused on Tony that you hadn’t realized that Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Pepper Potts (Stark?), Bruce Banner, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne and a man of Asian descent you couldn’t place had entered the room. Tony moves closer, peering over the couch and down into your purse, finger pulling at one of the edges to see into it.
“Well, that’s simple. I asked for you.” Eyebrows shoot upward in shock before your forehead furrows. “See, Pep read a piece you did on library and book importance - specifically in young and all school-age children. It was lying around, so I read it. And you know what? I liked the emotion. The thoughtfulness behind it. Every word was picked with such care - constructed to paint a picture. And that’s what I want you to do for us.” He gestures for you to sit, which you give a gentle shake of your head at and takes up the seat you’d been in before. He leans forward, one elbow balanced on his knee as he looks up at you. “We get good press, bad press too, but I want people to see the big picture. We’re a team. We’re a family. We sacrifice a lot to be able to do what we do. Paint that picture for me.” The spell Tony seemed to have cast on you raised and you look around to see the whole room staring at you, waiting.
You swallow hard and nod a couple of times. “I’ll do my best, Tony.” He rises and gives a nod of his own, flashing you a smile tinged with sadness that he quickly hides.
“Good. Good. Let’s get you into a guest room and then the tour. But first, some more introductions.”
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The voice in your room, in all the building you suppose, FRIDAY as she introduced herself, announced that dinner would be casual dress and served in an hour. Tony had been a gracious host, informing you he’d canceled your room at the winery - that, coincidentally, Wanda and Vision had been having brunch at earlier - before sashaying around the compound with Pepper, Scott, and Hope all in tow like a little tour group. Tony dutifully recited when it was built, remodeled, rebuilt. The layout and their functions. He adds little tidbits about visiting when he was little, making everything a little more real for you. You walk beside him, with him sometimes latching onto your elbow as you talk softly into your recorder, reminding yourself to get pictures of certain areas later with your camera.
It had been nice, Scott was witty and said aloud most of the smart ass comments you’d been thinking. Pepper kept Tony focused and Hope spent as much time as you did asking questions. The tour of the basic facilities ended back where it had begun in the living room, rain beginning to splatter against the massive wall of windows to your left.
You’d managed to find your way back to the room, 5th on the right, to find your overnight bag sitting on the end of the bed next to a plush white robe and a note from Tony stating he’d still asked for the stores to bring over things for you to pick out tomorrow and not to bother fighting him on it. Kicking off your shoes, you’d wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling window in your room to watch the raindrops slide down the glass, tucking your legs under you as you sat on the very soft, thick carpet with your notebook and pen.
Amelina, your boss and best friend, had bought you a gray, faux-leather sunflower embossed one to butter you up. Your little addiction and she knew it. You’d accepted the notebook and the assignment with little hesitation. Only to look at the notebook lying on your desk later and think ‘What the hell have I just done?!’
The first page is an outline of what Amelina had said she wanted from the articles (she ideally wanted to break them into separate pieces with each Avenger getting their own spotlight), your notes on the Avengers from digging online and the preliminary dates the article, or articles, would be posted on the site. Taking a deep breath you flip past the Avengers you’d already made lists for, adding the Guardians, Captain Danvers, Doctor Stranger, Wong (whom you’d met earlier), adding Scott and Hope as well, since they are West Coast-based and you had a 50/50 chance of actually interviewing them initially.
Your recorder would hold the interviews, your verbal notes and memos to take pictures of certain locations...but your gray notebook, that was for your notes and thoughts on their habits, likes and dislikes based on observation, how they interact with you, and how they interact with each other.
The alarm on your phone drags you away from writing a few more observations on the page designated for Pepper Potts, letting you know that you need to get up and changed for dinner. You plug your recorder in to download the tour from earlier while you change and freshen up your hair and makeup.
Your hopping on one foot, trying to shove your foot into the stupid pump when your alarm goes off again. Tossing yourself onto the end of the bed, you unplug your recorder and wiggle your foot into the pump better before heading out the door. You shove the recorder into the pocket of your skirt, making your way down the hall when the intro to “7 Rings” begins playing from the phone in your hand. With a quick swipe you answer, stopping almost halfway down the hall.
“Yes?”
“Is that any way to answer the phone?”
“It is when I’m on my way to dinner and your long-winded call could make me late.”
“Harsh, dude, harsh.” Amelina barely takes a breath before continuing. “So, whatcha got so far?”
“First of all, that isn’t how I work. How long have you known me, Lina? By the way, I’m mad at you.”
“What for?”
“You didn’t tell me I’d be staying here or that I’d be here for two weeks. I looked like an idiot in front of Tony Freaking Stark and Pepper Freaking Potts!” You hiss into the phone, tapping your foot in irritation as she chuckles on the other end of the line.
“Sorry! I honestly didn’t know how long you’d be staying -”
“Well, it’s nice that you let me know that!”
“Mr. Stark just asked how long he could have you on loan. I said a max of three weeks.”
“Oh my god, Amelina,” you groan, letting your head drop forward as you repeat in your head to breathe.
“You are such a -”
“You’re being a real bitch. I would have packed. I would have been prepared. But nooooo! Now I’m standing in a hallway wishing that your brother’s new puppy would pee in your expensive shoes!”
“Now that’s just mean!”
“I’m hanging up now. May Jedi maul all the shoes you hold dear.” You jab your thumb against the screen before taking a deep breath and continuing your trek to the living room.
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Apparently ‘casual’ at the Avengers compound is a broad term. Clint is sporting a sweatshirt with the SHIELD logo emblazoned on the front with black jogging pants and loafers. Steve has a dark blue shirt that is miraculously being held together by mere buttons, which you’re afraid if he strains, will lose their valiant efforts to keep his shirt together. His is paired with khakis and the same loafers as Clint, which amuses you for some unknown reason. Sam Wilson has a red t-shirt with a black blazer over it, dark gray jeans and some well-worn boots. As you finish taking in appearances, standing like a wallflower half-hidden by the hallway arch still, you can’t help but wonder if you should pinch yourself to see if this was reality.
Sam spots you first, or is the first to acknowledge it, and makes his way over with a friendly smile painted on his face.
“I’m Sam Wilson, nice to meet you.” His hand extends and nearly swallows your own before giving it a firm shake. You liked that. He wasn’t treating you as delicate. You detested when men did that when shaking hands with women…
“Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you as well.”
“Heard Tony gave you the tour.” He’s got a smirk now, eyes bright and teasing.
“Oh yeah. He offered to let me try out a suit - but only when Pepper and Steve weren’t around.”
“Killjoys,” Sam gives a serious shake of his head, chuckling as FRIDAY announces dinner is ready to be served. “Let’s get you to dinner. We’re having it in the mess hall once everyone gets here - tonight we can still have it in the actual dining room.” He offers his arm, guiding you out of the living area. “You met Bucky, right?” You give a nod, very aware the aforementioned is right behind the two of you. “His article will be the shortest. Dude’s damn near a mute unless he’s lecturing Steve, so I wish you good luck on interviewing him.”
“And here I thought that your odd friendship was all made up…” You answer slyly, hearing a snort of laughter behind you - unsure if it belongs to Steve or Bucky.
“Hey Cap, you meet the reporter?” Sam flashes you a smile as he turns the two of you around, bringing you to a hard stop so you don’t ram into the super-soldier.
“Steve Rogers, miss.” He offers his hand and gives yours a firm shake, his blue eyes holding a wariness you weren’t expecting. Captain America, wary of you? Doesn’t inspire a lot of hope in you about this whole experience…
“Y/N Y/L/N, sir.”
“Sit! Sit!” Tony orders jovially from down the table before pointing to the man at his right. “Rhodey. War Machine. Liar extraordinaire. I may need to sit in to make sure he gets all the facts straight.”
“Don’t listen to Mr. Stank over here, ma’am.”
“Unfortunately, that’s why I’m here Mr. Rhodes.” Steve pulls out your chair for you, waiting until your seated to take his seat to your left. “Thank you.”
“I think we should all get to know each other,” Tony starts, only for Rhodey to roll his eyes and Bruce to scoff from the other end of the long table.
“May I record?” You ask, watching everyone sort of tense and shuffle.
“Of course!” Tony answers as you withdraw the recorder, clicking it on and sitting it beside your plate.
“I think it’s only fair since I’ll be bothering all of you for the next two or so weeks, that you can ask me whatever you’d like as well.”
“That’s fair,” Dr. Strange concedes from his spot to your right.
“Very fair, I think,” Scott agrees, giving you a big comforting smile.
“Okay, well let’s start with where you were born.” A handful of waiters come in, setting bowls and plates onto the tabletop before disappearing.
“Family style,” Pepper clarifies before looking expectantly to you.
“I was born in California. But moved to Seattle when I was little, maybe about 3. Right before I started kindergarten we moved back to California. Been there ever since.”
“And your business?” Pepper asks, dishing some green beans onto her plate.
“It’s more Amelina’s than mine. We’re partners in the site, but I do the money part, well I prep it for the accountant - and most of the writing - and she does the schmoozing, bossing around, the sports articles and the keeping up of the site. So she’s doing the lion’s share.”
“I would think you break even,” Hope pipes up. “Well, what with you having to travel and compile the information and then write it out. Plus anything to do with money is usually more stressful. Do you both hire and fire?”
“Unfortunately, yes. We tried to hire a sports writer after we’d had the site for a year, but it didn’t work out...”
“Wait. Wait. Was it that guy that kept inserting himself into the story?” Sam laughs out, peeking around Bucky who is beside Steve. You bite back a groan.
“Yes.”
“Bucky, Rhodey - it’s that article I sent you saying that Babe Ruth was only half the baseball player he could have been and that the writer could’ve been the next Bambino.” Rhodey is at least trying not to laugh, but you can see Bucky’s shoulders shaking as you lean backward in your chair.
“That was a huge mistake. All of his work we reviewed before hiring was impeccable. I checked to make sure it wasn’t plagiarized and we called all of his references. Apparently, he’d had some experience in coding and websites, so after he handed in his first final draft, he went in an hour after Amelina posted it, and changed it. We got so many emails - we were getting all these calls... Brian up and disappeared after he did that. To this date, still haven’t had as much traffic on the site as that day.”
“Brian sounds like a douche,” Wanda mutters with a smile, taking a sip from her wine glass. You look down at your plate, finding it overflowing with more food than you’d put on there. You raise an eyebrow at Steve, who just shrugs and puts a forkful of potato salad in his mouth with a smile.
“Yeah. I blacklisted him.”
“Blacklisted how?” Clint manages around a mouthful of bread.
“Oh, um, well I emailed almost every single media outlet in California, Washington, Oregon, and Nevada. Then I asked them to forward it to their parent stations or owners. So basically, after a year of emailing people, most blogs, newspapers, tv stations, circulars, and YouTube hosts in California to Kentucky know not to deal with anyone going by his name. I helped a reporter from Pennsylvania with her story, and she began emailing people on the East Coast about it. All emails included his picture too, just in case he went by another name.”
“Effective. A bit ruthless.” Vision is seated between Wanda and Rhodey, nodding in approval.
“No! Not ruthless!” You defend, voice rising a little before the heat rises in your neck and cheeks. “Sorry. I just didn’t want anyone to get dinged as we did. We had to say a lot of apologies and lost a lot of work because of his pointless self-involved rant. And I mean, who goes after Babe Ruth?”
“Balls but no brains,” Scott adds, the two of you nodding. He points his fork at your plate. “Eat.”
“Can I ask a question?”
“That’s what you’re here for.” Tony chuckles out.
“What do you guys do in times like these? When there aren’t aliens or Loki or HYDRA? Like a big spa day for all of you guys? Karaoke?”
“To be honest,” Natasha begins. “There aren’t a lot of days like this when we are all free at the same time. But honestly, it’s more watching and waiting than action and aliens.”
“Kind of miss SHIELD to kind of take care of the day to day bad guy cartel and mafia stuff?” You manage around a mouthful of pasta. Sweet Jesus, it was decadent and cheesy.
“Sometimes I miss the help,” Clint admits.
“What Clint means is that he misses telling people what to do.” Sam teases, tossing a bread roll at him across the table, which Clint catches without even looking away from you.
“Hey! I didn’t tell people what to do. They just did it.”
“Did you buy a bar just to tear it down, Tony?” Tony smiles around a forkful of steak.
“Yes. Yes, I did. Ross just rubs me the wrong way.”
“To be fair, I think he rubs everyone the wrong way.”
“You’ve met him?” Steve sounds surprised, eyebrows raised in what you hope is astonishment.
“Unfortunately. I was in college and had to write a piece on something or someone whom you don’t agree with. Now I am all for soldiers but upper management sucks in the military, no offense Mr. Rhodes. But, everywhere, really... I just think the old guys in Congress and equally old guys in the upper ranks are calling the shots on things they shouldn’t be interfering in, as far as college me was concerned. Ross irritated me for the simple reason that he was the smartest person in the room and no matter what I said, what facts I had, what questions I asked, I would always be wrong. Never disliked being called ‘sweetheart’ so much in my life. Hard to have a conversation with the other side when they talk to you like that. Plus, I got a D on that paper, so he sucks in my book.”
“I told him to call me if he needed help. Then I left him on hold. In my own defense, I did warn him earlier I did like to watch the light blink.” Rhodey snorts into his glass at Tony’s admission.
“Like a tiny Christmas light of joy.” Steve comments, leaning back in his chair with a smile.
You shove a forkful of green beans into your mouth, giving a little sigh at how damn good it tasted before spearing a few more and eating those as Scott launches into the tale of him, Cassie, Luis and his ex-wife’s husband all hanging Christmas lights - only for the new husband to find he’d rewired and programmed them to blink in super slow motion with the fastest Christmas songs he could find and vice versa. And every 9 hours and 45 minutes, it played La Cucaracha, perfectly in time with the lights. There are a few chuckles around the table, but you’re laughing pretty damn hard.
“That’s brilliant actually! The deviousness lies in the amount of annoying that they could take. Having to time your exit must have been a bitch.”
“He and one of his buddies took it all down, bought new lights and hung those up. Cassie told me she missed hearing the Chipmunks, so I remotely programmed a timer so it would play the Christmas Don’t Be Late song right before her bedtime.”
“Cassie sounds like a wonderful girl. And very lucky to have you for her father.” Scott looks flustered but gives you the brightest smile before looking down at his empty plate.
“Th-thank you.”
“Of course. Do you guys do Netflix around here? Movie night?”
“Your mind is everywhere…” Hope says with a grin. “That’s good.”
“And to answer your question - yes. We have Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime…” Sam trails off as the waiters reappear, clearing the table only to return seconds later with plates of beautiful personal assorted desserts. If this was how they ate, you’d hate to see their exercise regime. Oh god, you hoped you weren’t expected to work out with them...
“I was just wondering how you all decide on a show. Do Steve and Bucky have lists? Like are you all working through AFI’s 100 Greatest Movies? I think I’ve only seen 20 of them. Do you all binge shows together?”
“Pep started a rotation. So if it’s your Sunday night and you’re in the compound or tower, then you pick the movie or show. If you aren’t here, it goes to the next person on the list.”
“Sometimes after a mission, it’s usually just decided to watch tv shows just cause we all sort of zone out,” Steve whispers after Tony’s answer, taking a big scoop of his parfait.
“We’ve never been invited,” Wong pipes up, frowning at Tony.
“Oh, I invited both you and Strange right after Pepper made the schedule. If Strange didn’t relay that…” Dr. Strange just rolls his eyes.
“I mentioned it.”
“You didn’t say it was a regular occurrence.” Wong huffs out before biting into a ladyfinger.
“Like an old married couple,” Clint chuckles out, his desserts all gone as he leans contentedly back in his chair. You give your head a small shake at their exchange before reaching to stop your recorder.
“Well, thank you so much for that delicious meal. And thank you for letting me record. I hope I get less awkward as this goes on.”
“This was awkward?” Wanda raises an eyebrow, making you fiddle with the recorder before tucking it into your pocket.
“Okay, well, um then it will get more awkward before it gets less awkward.” You all rise, pushing in your chairs before wandering out of the dining room and back towards the living areas.
“You’ll find out we’re all awkward. Well, except me.” You nod seriously at Tony’s words, managing to see Bucky roll his eyes at Tony’s words. Huh. Who knew… “Nightcap?”
“Oh, no. Thank you. I’m so full I don’t think I could even manage that.”
“Then we’ll say goodnight.” A chorus of goodnights echoes around the large living room.
“Goodnight everyone.”
You totter off to your room, cursing the fact that you’re so sleepy right now. After washing your face, brushing your teeth and changing into your pajamas, you shuffle down under the covers.
“Well, that wasn’t the most awkward or silent dinner I’ve ever been to…” You mutter before sleep drags you under.
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In the morning, you wake up earlier than you usually tend to, sitting on the floor in your pajamas in front of the rain-splattered window with your headphones on - going over the recordings, transcribing them and making notes in your dotted notebook, since it better served to add afterthoughts to. Not the nice orderly layout of your new notebook. And you’re so involved in listening and typing, snatching up the notebook beside you to jot down memos, that you don’t hear Steve and Tony calling your name and you sure as hell don’t hear them enter.
The scream accounts for that, Bucky and Sam barrelling through your door as you look up at Steve and Tony with wide eyes, shoving your headphones off.
“We’re sorry.” Tony barely restrains a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I had FRIDAY see if you were awake, then came to get you for breakfast, but,” He laughs now, the skin by his eyes crinkling. “You didn’t answer.”
“Maybe we should think about a different system!” You blurt as you stare up at the four men.
“Yes. Definitely,” Tony chuckles. “Next time I’ll have FRIDAY blink the lights to alert you.”
“Thank you!”
“Our pleasure.” Steve grins out, extending a hand.
“No, I’m fine here, thanks.” Steve shrugs, the smile not disappearing.
“Well, we’ll leave you to get dressed for breakfast. The shops are due to arrive after breakfast for you to pick some more clothes for your stay. Sam has also requested to be your first interview.” Sam winks at you from Cap’s left, sporting a wide smile as Bucky’s gaze goes from Sam to you.
“Thanks again.” You peer around Steve. “And thank you two for coming so quickly.”
“Anytime, Y/N.” Sam delivers smoothly, Bucky rolling his eyes before making a swift exit. The other three leave with smiles on their faces.
It takes you several minutes to realize you were in your pajamas; a worn and oversized ‘It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown’ shirt paired with sleep shorts that could barely be seen peeking under the hem of your shirt.
“Jeez…” You groan, rubbing a hand over your face before closing the laptop and tossing your notebooks on the bed.
Ten minutes later you have your teeth brushed and you’re dressed in adequate attire, shuffling nervously into the kitchen area on the other side of the bar in the living room. Clint and Bucky are cooking, Wanda weaving between the two expertly. You slip in the seat next to Hope, her hair in a ponytail and dressed in workout clothes.
“How long has everyone been up?” You whisper-ask, setting your recorder and notebook beside the empty plate that Natasha sets in front of you with a small smile. You return it as Hope cuts her pancake which is riddled with syrup, fruit and whipped cream.
“We all did a workout before breakfast,” She puts a big bite of sugar-laden pancake in her mouth, “Speeds up your metabolism.”
“Where’s Scott?”
“Here.” He mutters, slipping into the seat on the other side of Hope.
“Not a morning person?”
“I enjoy my sleep.”
“Thank god. Me too. Under normal circumstances.”
“Yes,” A new voice pipes up from the other side of the room, making you lean back to see who it is. “We heard about the intrusion this morning.”
“Holy - Princess Shuri!” After nearly tripping trying to slither out of your stool, you manage to get upright and extend a hand. “So lovely to meet you.”
“Thank you. It is lovely to meet you as well. I read your articles after Tony mentioned you were selected to do the interviews, and I must say that when you do scientific articles, there is a very nice flow and imagery that one does not usually get.”
“Thank you! I’m sure whoever I’ve interviewed in the science community doesn’t care for all the questions I have after the interview, so I’m glad that it reads well to a genius.”
“You will just make her head bigger, Miss Y/L/N.”
“King T’Challa, wonderful to meet you.” You breathe a deep breath of relief as he extends his hand, giving it a firm shake with a warm smile.
“Wonderful to meet you as well. Please sit, you must keep your strength up if you are to deal with all of us.” There is mischief in his eyes, the twinkle of a man temporarily unburdened.
“That bad?”
“Wait ‘til the Guardians are here!” A male voice pipes up, followed by a tossing sound and a huffed “Sorry!”
“Peter Parker, ma’am.” Your eyebrows shoot up as you automatically stick out your hand.
“Spider-Man,” Tony supplies as he walks by with a bowl of oatmeal. Honestly, your only thought is that he’s a baby and should be protected at all cost.
“Yeah, I think I saw a post on Instagram about someone in New York making Spider-Man ice creams...So you’re the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?” Peter blushes, withdrawing his hand and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Don’t worry, kid. Pep had her sign contracts before she even came. She can’t reveal your identity.”
“Oh. Okay then.” His smile brightens at least a hundred watts. “Did you eat yet? Mr. Barnes makes the best pancakes!”
“Does he now?” Bucky’s back is to you, so you can’t see his expression, but there are already two hot pancakes setting on your plate next to several pieces of bacon. “I’m going to gain so much weight while I’m here…” You sigh, actually not the least bit bothered by it once you bite into the pancake, it’s buttery soft fluff filling your mouth, the second bite revealing a tiny melted chocolate chip to add to the deliciousness. Flipping open your notebook, you scribble down a note: Bucky Barnes = wonderful pancakes. Peter sees it and ducks his head as he takes his plate over to where Shuri is sitting, the two of them bent over a tablet when you glance over your shoulder.
Everything is terribly domestic. Normal.
And you want them to enjoy it. Cause honestly, after all that’s happened, they truly deserve a little peace and camaraderie.
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”Okay, so is this alright?” You ask, settling a little more into the plush blood-red chair in Sam’s bedroom, his desk to your right littered with your notebook, your phone, the recorder, and several pens.
“Great. I’m good to go.” You pick up the recorder, clicking it on with a nervous smile directed at Sam before you began.
“Interview One: Sam Wilson, known as Falcon. Okay, Sam, please tell me a little about yourself?”
“What would you like to know?”
“Let’s just start with the basics - like speed dating.”
“I’ve never been speed dating.”
“Well, aren’t we the lucky one?”
“Wait - you’ve been speed dating?”
“Unfortunately. It was for an article but nothing really was romantic or fun about asking the same questions of men who aren’t looking you in the eye.”
“Don’t gotta worry about that here. Our mamas all raised us right.”
“Noted. Alright, so I’ll ask the nice fluffy questions first.”
“Working our way up to the heavy hitter ones.”
“Exactly. What’s your favorite thing to do in New York, besides save it? What was your childhood dream job? Favorite Disney movie? How do you like your coffee?”
“Eat. Man, I love food. They have a little gumbo place in Harlem,” He kisses the tips of his fingers. “Best Southern food up here. As for my childhood dream job - man, I love birds. I wanted to train raptors, rehabilitate them...or I wanted to be a chef ‘cause I enjoy food. All kinds. Man, I haven’t seen a Disney movie in ye -- well, that’s not true because Spider-Nerd made us watch Toy Story 4 the other day...but probably a tie between Fantasia and The Rescuers. And coffee? That I take black with room so I can add cream and three sugars.”
“Good memory skills. Want more difficult ones now?”
“Oh yeah, I’m ready,” He rubs his hands together with a smile spreading quickly across his face.
“If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?” His laughter is loud and boisterous, his hands braced on his knees before looking at you.
“Whew - went right for it, didn’t you? Are you asking everyone this question? Can I be there when you ask Cap and Bucky? I bet you twenty bucks that Tony says he’s thought of it before and he wants December cause of the gift he is.” You lean over and make a note of it in your notebook.
“I’ll take that bet. I counter with he doesn’t want to do one but he’d like to be July.” He extends his hand and you shake it firmly, mustering up a serious expression as you did so before settling in to wait for his answer.
“Man, okay. Uh, I think I’d like to be August. Not as hot but not cold either, with those pre-fall feelings. And I’m getting the tightest red shirt I own, along with my favorite pair of jeans. But I could be persuaded to dress sexier - nice fitted suit and tie.”
“Why’d you join the Air Force?”
“I just wanted to help people. And I wanted to see the world. My mom was okay with it since she figured the Air Force weren’t the first to deploy and that I’d be mostly out of harm’s way. But I enjoyed the regimen, the camaraderie I had with the other guys. But when my wingman, my partner Riley, died -- you, you know I just didn’t want to be apart of that anymore after that. I decided I’d get more out of life if I helped other soldiers deal with their problems.” He pauses, searching your face for something before continuing. “I met Steve one day when we were both out running. I knew who he was, but I also knew he was just like any other soldier who had come home and was looking to adjust - looking to find his place.”
“So you did what came naturally - you offered a sympathetic ear and some words for him to think on.”
“Yep. And, honestly, I enjoyed getting to know Steve Rogers. I think we have a lot in common, just morals and being a good soldier, but it’s more important to be a better man than all of that.”
“You really admire him.”
“Of course I do. He’s my best friend. I wouldn’t trade what I had to go through - what we all had to go through - to have it done any other way. I mean, it was brutal in some places, but I’d do it all again -- I sure as hell don’t want to, but I would.”
“May I ask why you chose to follow Steve instead of, say, Col. Rhodes? Both military, both having friends who sort of go rogue, both just wanting to do the right thing…”
“Rhodey and I are good friends, don’t get me wrong. But he had a lot on his plate: The military. Ross. Tony. Still dealing with the fallout of SHIELD in the upper ranks. I would follow Rhodey for a lot of things, but I won’t fight against any of the other Avengers again unless they’re mind-controlled or some shit.”
“Peanut butter and jelly or ham and cheese?” You ask softly, giving him a kind smile.
“Peanut butter and jelly.” He says with his own soft smile.
“Can I pet Redwing?” He perks up at that question.
“Yeah, come on, I’ll show him to you.”
“Maybe the suit too?” You tease, gathering up your notebook and phone, shoving the latter into your pocket before the extra pens you’d brought got shoved right along in there. You carefully pick up the recorder, holding it aloft as Sam holds open his bedroom door.
Once you’ve petted Redwing, letting Sam fly it around you. Luckily you were smart enough to stop at your room first for your camera, most of the time focusing on the light in Sam’s eyes as he looks at his little buddy before Steve and Clint come into the hanger, Clint playfully throwing a few rocks as Redwing dodges them, the three of them joking as they stand in a semi-circle and watch. All the while you watch them through the lens, happily snapping pictures before you notice Bucky leaning against the hangar door a handful of feet away. He looks like he’s a model, a small smile on his face that’s half turned away from you with one hand - his metal hand - tucked into the pocket of his black, worn-looking jacket. You snap a few pictures before he turns his head towards you, the smile disappearing. You snap a picture anyway before lowering the lens and smiling as warmly at him as you can. He gives a little nod before pushing off the door and disappearing around the corner.
Clint drags you to the archery range after that, carefully digging through his arrows as he answers question after question.
“Okay, Clint, last one: If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?” Clint snickers, his shoulders gently moving.
“Really? Well, alright then. I think I’d like to be January. And I think I want to be dressed in a velvet eggplant jacket with a black shirt and some black underwear.” You nearly snort when he wiggles his eyebrows and gives you a lazy smile, twirling an arrow.
“Boxers? Briefs? Thong?”
“I think some nice fitting briefs. Don’t want to make too many people jealous if I bust out my thong…”
“I certainly learned a whole lot about you, so thank you for that, Clint.”
“Anytime, sweet cheeks. Anytime.” He leads you back to the living room for your last interview of the morning before you all break for lunch. “Wanda! I got your girl here!” Wanda is standing by the hallway, a cup in each hand with a smile gracing her too-pretty face. She gestures with her head, her red hair swinging slightly. Clint doesn’t let you go initially, pushing his cheek closer to you.
“Alright, alright, Mr. Sweet cheeks.” You concede, kissing his cheek before watching him saunter past the others, tossing himself down onto the couch beside Scott with a chuckle.
“Good luck!” Sam hollers, making Wanda glare at him for a second before you follow her down the hall.
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Wanda is teaching you a few words in Romanian when you emerge from her room for lunch.
Lunch is already laid out as you repeat “Nu, mulţumesc” until she nods.
“And that means?”
“No, Thank you.” You answer obediently.
“Now, combine everything.”
“Ce fasi! Mici sărutări pentru tine în această după-amiază. Nu, mulțumesc. Aș prefera să fac un tort.” [Little kisses to you all this afternoon. No, thank you. I'd rather have a cake.]
Bucky and Natasha shake their heads with a smile.
“And that means?”
“What are you doing? Little kisses to you all this afternoon. No, thank you. I’d rather have a cake.” Wanda chuckles out, giving your arm a loving pat.
“It was something my mother always said to my father. He said little kisses to us all and she said she would rather have cake. Y/N said it beautifully. Very naturally.”
“I am a wonderful parrot.” You smile out before Tony pokes his head in and whistles.
“Lunch!”
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Bruce’s interview after lunch is filled with long pauses, his answers thought out and sometimes not what you expected. He takes you through his lab and then he suggests a short jaunt around the garden to finish the interview. When he excuses himself, you stay in the French-style garden, snapping a few scenic pictures and unwinding a bit from the interviews of today.
With four down, you’re feeling pretty perky about the whole series, trying not to think about the 25 or 26 more interviews you needed to do. Wandering through, your fingertips brushing over the perfectly trimmed hedges before spotting a few wild sunflowers towards the path leading into the woods. Carefully kneeling you take a picture, frowning as it’s just not quite right. You settle on your belly, one foot rising into the air as you refocus the camera and nail the picture you wanted!
You don’t even realize that Bucky is taking your picture as you grin at your camera, entirely too pleased with your results before you regain your footing and trek back to the compound.
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You shoot for six interviews the next day, just trying to get them done before the Guardians, Thor and Captain Danvers arrive...Tony having casually mentioned recording a video group interview of sorts before you left. Which didn’t stress you out at all.
Not.
Hope’s interview was witty and broadening...how she described quantum physics (which just led to more questions) was outstanding.
Scott’s was quick-witted, dry and peppered with his pretty broad knowledge of electrical engineering, Captain America, and songs from the 80s. He was very open about his conviction and time in prison, his decision to be ankle monitored to be with his daughter, and how he feels all of this may affect her in the future. He’s an achingly good person and you add him to your “Protect At All Costs” mental list you’ve started.
Steve is stiff. He doesn’t see the humor in your calendar question (you have to show him the Australian firefighter one with the baby animals for reference) to which he begrudgingly requests the month of May and says a casual suit with flowers in lieu of a pocket square. You suggest him sitting slightly towards a camera, painting a field full of flowers...he seems to like the idea and it makes him relax a little - and you’ll have to thank Sam for that tidbit of information he’d given you. You ask Steve a lot about his life before Captain America, how he thinks it would have gone differently if Dr. Erskine had lived, and what he initially liked about the modern world. He tells you about art school and Bucky, getting beat up on a near regular basis in alleys all over Brooklyn, how he discovered Mr. Rogers’ TV show early one afternoon after moving into the compound.
Vision, on the other hand, doesn’t have a lot of life experience to draw upon but he’s a wealth of knowledge. He talks about JARVIS and ULTRON, the differences between the two of them and Tony, he talks about how DUM-E knows who he is and how loyal he is to Tony. He then shows you who DUM-E is, the bot jerkily “shaking” your hand as you marvel over how not just Tony has evolved but his creations as well. Do you coo how smart and handy the robot it? Of course. But it’s worth it to see the robot nodding as you talk about how smart his dad is. DUM-E then gives you a tiny circuit board before you leave, Vision remarking that he likes you very much to have done so. You scribble down a note to ask Tony if that’s okay that you have that.
Peter is your last interview before dinner, and holy cow, everyone in the compound is a fucking genius. Peter tells you about his web fluid, the neighborhood where he’s grown up, and it’s clear how much he admires Tony from how reverently he speaks. Their relationship, you notice, is a little more parent/child than a mentor/mentee relationship. It’s adorable with a tinge of awkward. Peter shows you pictures he’s taken swinging all over New York and you show him where he can get a Spider-Man ice cream. He asks you just as many questions as you do and you chuckle when he refers to nearly every movie before his date of birth as “a really old movie”. You show him a few Charlie Chaplin shorts to show him what exactly “really old” is. He, in turn, shows you Tik Tok videos that you both laugh over.
“Do you like serial killer stuff?” He asks as you both head to the dining room for dinner, tucking his phone back into his pocket, both sets of your sneakers squeaking ever so slightly on the expensive floors.
“I think most women do.”
“Why do you think that?” His little focused face is adorable, trying to link it up in his head.
“Women always think they can do things better. And they’re usually right, just to let you know.” He nods seriously. “We’re outraged by it but intrigued. Pretty sure women can get blood out of just about anything - I’ve gotten red nail polish out of khaki pants by sheer will alone. It’s different for everyone, I guess. But mostly I think it helps us to collectively learn how to plausibly commit the perfect murder while we drink wine from the couch and shove snacks in our faces. And possibly solve a crime in our heads.”
“Huh,” Peter’s brow is still furrowed but he’s nodding his understanding. Peter looks up to find Bucky studying you, and when you look at Peter, he’s just smiling. “Excuse me.” You nod, watching him high-five Shuri before you feel someone by your side. Dr. Strange gestures to your ever-moving seat, which tonight is between Okoye and Wanda.
“Thank you,” you murmur gratefully, not noticing the quick clench of Bucky’s hand as he moves around Strange to his own seat opposite Natasha.
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Rhodey steals you after dinner, Sam teasing him as they disappear to his office.
“Come on, man. Just talk to her.”
“Shut up, bird brain.”
“She’s pretty nice. I was concerned she was just gonna go after us, with the questioning, but she eased into it and just didn’t focus on the darker stuff. She seems to want to get to know us as people.”
“It’s weird, huh?” Clint comments as Hope nods.
“It’s nice to be treated like a person. Not someone who’s infallible or holier than thou…” T’Challa remarks from his spot in the plush crimson chair across from them.
“Very inclusive, as well,” Okoye adds as Shuri and Peter come skidding into the room, Peter holding a tablet.
“What are you two doing?” Steve asks as he arches one blonde eyebrow high at the two.
“Nothing,” Shuri says smoothly, Peter nodding a few times too many when Tony comes into the room.
“Why is there a herd of deer in my hanger?” Both teens shoot off towards the patio door, laughing the whole time. “I don’t know what they did, but Redwing is acting like a herding dog with them, so you might need to go check that out, Sam.”
“Damn kids, I swear...I’m gonna need to squash me a spider…” He mutters loudly, heading briskly for the hanger.
“So, you gonna talk to our little journalist?” Tony smirks down at Bucky, which makes him scowl at the billionaire.
“I’m supposed to do that tomorrow,” He grumbles, making Tony smirk harder.
“You know that’s not what I mean, Tin Man.” Bucky wisely says nothing as he tries to calm his ramping up heart rate. “Even the kids have noticed you looking.”
“He has some competition,” Vision adds, smiling at Wanda who tilts her head slightly but returns his smile. “DUM-E.” Tony snorts, shaking his head as he turns away to gather himself.
“The robot? So the two are evenly matched then.” Natasha chuckles out, taking a healthy sip of her gin and tonic as she meets Bucky’s eyes.
“Nat, that’s not fair. The robot shook her hand and gave her a circuit board. He’s leagues ahead of Buck.” Clint teases, taking Natasha’s drink and taking his own healthy sip before handing it back. Bucky looks at his best friend, who is trying desperately to stop his shoulders from shaking with his laughter.
“40’s you would be ashamed. A robot who can’t talk?”
“Bucky Barnes vs a Roomba!” Shuri comments from behind Tony before making a break for it down the hallway with Sam hot on her tail. T’Challa, Okoye, and Bucky all point Sam down the hallway where she disappeared to when he comes panting into the living room.
“Now me is more inclined to hit your once-asthmatic ass for being the little shit you are,” Bucky growls at Steve, getting up from the couch turning to head to his room, only to freeze when he sees you and Rhodey standing by Peter in the door frame to the patio.
“Do you know there are deer in the hanger? And are you guys running a weird robot/human fight club?”
“Is that all you heard?” Tony asks, turning around and slinging his arm over the back of the couch with a smile flirting on his lips.
“We picked up the pace getting in here when we heard Shuri shout Bucky Barnes vs a Roomba. I mean, I’ve seen a raccoon with a machine gun, so that would have just been something else to add to the Weird Shit I’ve Seen list.” You press your lips together hard to keep from laughing at Rhodey’s nonchalant attitude and suddenly, Bucky isn’t as pissy as before. Well, he is - but at his friends - not at you.
Shit.
It’s been three days. Three fucking days and he’s smitten.
“Goodnight,” He says gruffly before retreating down the hall.
He’s nearly in his room, so he doesn’t hear you ask if you’ve done something wrong.
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Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr
NOTE: Found the pic online and edited it, props to Google and all rights/privileges/ownership goes to who took the photo and to Marvel who made up all these characters.
[PART 2]
