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[Sometimes it feels like years since Bucky let Steve assimilate him into his life again, moved him into the compound where the Avengers lived and worked; those were the days when he felt good, when he could smile and joke around and his voice had a Brooklyn tang to it. And sometimes it felt like only scant days, like he wasn't ready to be around people; those were the days when he tensed at sudden movements and sat like a scowling statue in an easily defensible corner.
The others did their best to cope with him there, some more successfully than others, but Bucky was still mostly an outsider. He didn't trust himself, and he wasn't sure they trusted him either, to go on actual Avenger missions and so he ended up mostly around the compound just trying to figure out where the hell to go from here. He did the best with Steve, but that was to be expected, but the others made him uncomfortable to varying degrees.
Oddly, though, a friendship had sprung up between him and Natasha. Nothing major, nothing world ending, but something warm and understated and real. Perhaps because they had both suffered, or perhaps because they had both done things that would never wash clean, but she was one that he seemed to be able to sit with whether he was having a good day or a bad one.
It was late at night when he padded into the common area wearing just some loose pyjama pants, expecting to be the only one up. His brow furrowed slightly when he saw that wasn't the case and he moved to the edge of the couch, voice a quiet rasp.]
Can't sleep?
The others did their best to cope with him there, some more successfully than others, but Bucky was still mostly an outsider. He didn't trust himself, and he wasn't sure they trusted him either, to go on actual Avenger missions and so he ended up mostly around the compound just trying to figure out where the hell to go from here. He did the best with Steve, but that was to be expected, but the others made him uncomfortable to varying degrees.
Oddly, though, a friendship had sprung up between him and Natasha. Nothing major, nothing world ending, but something warm and understated and real. Perhaps because they had both suffered, or perhaps because they had both done things that would never wash clean, but she was one that he seemed to be able to sit with whether he was having a good day or a bad one.
It was late at night when he padded into the common area wearing just some loose pyjama pants, expecting to be the only one up. His brow furrowed slightly when he saw that wasn't the case and he moved to the edge of the couch, voice a quiet rasp.]
Can't sleep?
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