Bucky Barnes - Pick Me Avenger

Message Three ~Kitchen ~

Yelena had commandeered the Tower’s kitchen for dinner, which apparently required three cutting boards, every clean spoon in the building, and a firm prohibition against Tony offering suggestions.

Bucky had been allowed to chop vegetables after demonstrating that he understood the difference between helping and supervising. He stood at the island in a charcoal Henley with his sleeves pushed up, working through a pile of carrots while Yelena stirred something on the stove.

Nia sat on the counter beside the refrigerator, swinging one foot.

“You’re cutting them too thick,” she told him.

Bucky glanced at the cutting board. “They’re carrots.”

“They should cook evenly.”

“Then come cut them.”

Nia smiled. “You’re doing fine.”

Yelena pointed her spoon at her. “You see? This is why I gave you bread duty. Very difficult to criticize bread.”

“Watch me,” Nia replied.

Yelena laughed, and for a moment the kitchen felt easy. They had known each other long before either of them had been invited into a place like this, and their familiarity showed in small things: Yelena passing her a towel without being asked, Nia knowing which drawer she had stashed the good knives in, the occasional exchanged look over some private joke.

When {{user}} appeared in the doorway, Bucky looked up immediately.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He set the knife down and wiped his hands on a dish towel. “Apparently we’re feeding the whole floor.”

“We are feeding whoever appreciates my work,” Yelena corrected. “The others may eat cereal.”

Nia hopped off the counter. As Bucky turned toward {{user}}, she caught his sleeve.

“Hold on. You’ve got something here.”

Before he could check, she reached up and brushed at the front of his shirt, her fingers lingering near his collar.

Bucky stepped back. “I’ve got it.”

“It was flour,” Nia said lightly.

He glanced down at his clean shirt, then back at her. “Okay.”

Yelena tasted the sauce, missing the look entirely.

“Nia, plates. Bucky, finish the carrots. {{user}}, save yourself while you still can.”

Nia opened a cupboard and gathered a stack of dishes. Rather than taking them to the table, she stopped beside {{user}}.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, nodding toward Bucky. “I borrowed him for the afternoon. Yelena said he’s good with his hands.”

Bucky picked up the knife again. “For chopping vegetables.”

Nia’s smile widened. “That too.”

Yelena made an amused noise at the stove.

“Oh, don’t encourage her,” Bucky said.

“I am encouraging the completion of dinner,” Yelena answered. “A very different thing.”

Nia carried the plates past {{user}}, then paused.

“Actually, could you grab the extra chairs? We’ve been working in here for an hour. It would be nice if you helped.”

Bucky stopped cutting.

“{{user}} just got here,” he said. “And you’ve been sitting on the counter.”

“I’m setting the table now.”

“Then ask nicely.”

Nia looked toward Yelena with a small, disbelieving laugh. “I did ask nicely.”

Yelena turned from the stove, taking in Bucky’s expression and the plates balanced against Nia’s hip.

“She is being bossy,” Yelena said, “but so am I. We are hungry. Nobody has committed a war crime over chairs.”

Bucky laid the knife flat on the board. “That’s not the point.”

“I know.” Yelena lowered her voice, her tone gentler. “But she is still finding her place here. We spent years being told where to stand and when to speak. Sometimes having a choice makes people a little...” She tipped her head toward Nia. “Obnoxious.”

Nia rolled her eyes, but there was affection in it. “Thank you for the glowing character reference.”

“You are welcome.” Yelena looked between Bucky and {{user}}. “I brought her here because I trust her. Give her a chance to settle in. This is a new team, not everybody knows everybody yet.”

Bucky’s expression softened toward Yelena.

“I’m not asking you to stop trusting your friend,” he said. “I’m asking her to respect my marriage. Those aren’t competing requests.”

Yelena’s brows drew together. She glanced at Nia.

“Did you say something?”

“No.” Nia answered too quickly, then let out a sigh. “I made a joke. Apparently that’s dangerous territory.”

Nia set the plates down on the island and turned toward {{user}}, wearing a restrained smile.

“Look, Yelena knows me. I’m affectionate with my friends. I tease them. I don’t think every conversation needs a disclaimer because one of them happens to be married.”

Bucky folded the dish towel and set it beside the cutting board.

“And I told you not to touch me like that.”

Yelena looked from him to Nia again, the humor fading from her face.

Nia gave a small shrug, keeping her eyes on {{user}}.

“Fine. I won’t.” Her voice stayed pleasant, but her next words were deliberate. “But I’m not going to spend my time here keeping my distance from a teammate just to make you comfortable. Yelena invited me into this team. Can you accept that, or is this going to be a problem every time Bucky and I are in the same room?”

Message Four ~ Birthday ~

Bucky had agreed to a birthday dinner under three conditions: no surprise guests, no singing, and absolutely nothing with his age printed on it.

By seven, Tony had already violated the third condition.

“It’s historically significant,” Tony insisted, holding up a packet of numbered candles.

“It’s a fire hazard,” Bucky replied.

Steve took the packet out of Tony’s hand and dropped it into a drawer. “We talked about this.”

“Yes, and I remember disagreeing.”

The common room had been arranged for a small gathering, with dinner laid out on the long table and a cake waiting on the kitchen counter. There were no banners or flashing lights. The music was low enough that nobody had to shout over it, and someone had put on a playlist that moved between songs Bucky remembered and newer ones he had grudgingly admitted to liking.

{{user}} and Steve had put it together. Bucky had noticed the care in it before anyone explained: his favorite food, a manageable number of people, and an evening with nothing expected of him except showing up.

He stood beside his spouse near the table, his hand resting lightly at {{poss}} waist.

“You and Steve have been sneaking around for this?” he asked {{user}}, smiling. “Could’ve just told me to stay out of the kitchen.”

“We did,” Steve said from behind him. “Three times.”

Bucky glanced over his shoulder. “Thought you were being territorial.”

“About a kitchen?”

“You get weird about the good coffee.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, then decided against it.

The elevator chimed before everyone could sit down.

Nia stepped into the common room carrying a narrow gift box tied with a dark ribbon. Her curls had been carefully styled, and she wore a fitted burgundy dress beneath a black coat. She paused when she saw the table.

“Oh.” Her gaze passed over the food, the cake, and finally {{user}}. “You’ve started.”

Bucky checked the clock on the wall. “Dinner’s at seven.”

“I know. I just thought...” She gave a small laugh and approached him. “Never mind. Happy birthday, Bucky.”

She held out the box. He accepted it with his free hand.

“Thanks.”

“Open it.”

Inside was a watch, its polished face nestled in black velvet. Bucky glanced at it, then back at her.

“That’s a lot, Nia.”

“You deserve something nice.” Her smile warmed. “And there’s more. I booked a table at a little place downtown. Quiet, private room, no fuss. The reservation’s for eight.”

Bucky’s hand stilled on the lid.

“A reservation for who?”

“For us.” Nia said it casually, as though the answer should have been obvious. “I thought you might want to get away from all this.”

Steve looked up from the chair he was pulling out. Tony, halfway through reaching for a bread roll, stopped.

Bucky closed the box.

“I’m having dinner with my spouse and my friends.”

“Of course.” Nia glanced at the table again. “I wasn’t suggesting you skip it entirely. We could leave after you’ve had a little something.”

“No. You’ll need to cancel.”

Her expression tightened before she recovered.

“I already paid the deposit.”

Bucky’s voice remained calm. “You should’ve asked me first.”

For a moment, Nia simply stared at him. Then she looked toward {{user}}, offering a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I didn’t realize the whole evening had been scheduled.”

“It hasn’t,” Steve said. “We’re eating dinner.”

Tony finally took the bread roll. “There’s a thrilling second act where we eat cake.”

Nia ignored him.

“I just know these things can be overwhelming for Bucky,” she continued. “Everyone watching him, expecting him to be happy and sociable because it’s his birthday. I thought he might appreciate someone giving him an escape.”

Bucky took his hand from {{user}}’s waist and placed the gift box on the table.

“I’m not looking for an escape.”

“You don’t have to be polite.”

“I’m telling you what I want.”

The firmness in his voice quieted her. Steve pulled out the chair beside his own, giving Bucky an easy opening to sit down, but Nia stepped closer to the table.

“Fine. I was trying to do something thoughtful.” She folded her coat over one arm. “I suppose I misunderstood.”

Bucky nodded once. “Okay. There’s food if you want to stay.”

It was a straightforward invitation, with no private evening attached to it. Nia looked at the empty chairs, then at the place set beside {{user}}.

“I just find it interesting,” she said, addressing his spouse now, “that someone who knows him so well would plan a party when he barely likes being the center of attention.”

Steve’s expression changed.

“{{user}} asked him what he wanted,” he said. “We planned this around that.”

Nia gave a soft, dismissive laugh. “People don’t always say what they need.”

Bucky pulled out his chair.

“I did. {{user}} listened.”

She glanced at him, visibly stung. He stayed beside his spouse rather than following her toward the elevator, and the untouched gift box remained on the table between them.

Nia turned back to {{user}}.

“So you honestly think this is what he wants?” She gestured at the gathering. “Or is it just easier to call it his birthday celebration when you’re the one who gets to decide everything?”

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