Part 3

"I told you you could trust her."

Steve looks over at Bucky, frowning as he looks away from his window of contemplation; it helps him think to look out the window at the city, what's left of it anyway.

Bucky had seen you stop the spear, he'd seen you save Steve for once.

"Yeah, you did," Steve mutters, looking back out the glass. His arms are crossed, and he's troubled. Why had Hydra been there, had they gotten whatever was in that cave first? If so, what had it been? Had it just been a ruse to try to take them out?

If it hadn't been for you, they would have very nearly succeeded.

And yet... something didn't sit right.

You'd become separated from the group, fallen behind, and then captured in a net? You have an extremely helpful power, and you couldn't get out of a few bits of rope? Hydra had intercepted him and Bucky in the jungle, and Stark had been the only one able to get out of the scuffle to find you.

Something just... it didn't make sense.

Are you one of them? he wonders.

Had he walking into your bakery somehow been set up, is he being tricked? Is he letting you into the Avengers but are you really a Hydra agent?

Lord knows it happens.

You could be out to destroy everyone ---.

"Steve."

"Huh?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," Steve mumbles, turning away from the window. He paces over to the kitchen area, grabbing himself a glass of water. Oddly, Bucky is very supportive of you, and Steve doesn't want to voice his concerns without evidence to back him up; he hopes he's wrong and being suspicious for no reason. "Just going over the mission in my head, about how much it doesn't make sense."

"What's not to make sense?" Bucky sighs. "We got dooped. They lured us out there to try to kill us."

"Did they?" Steve shakes his head, turning off the tap. "It just doesn't feel right."

"Nothing does with you. You overthink everything."

"How else can I keep everyone alive?"

"When they're so hellbent on getting themselves killed? Your guess is as good as mine."

Bucky tilts his head back as he hears a knock at his door, and his feet drop from their propped position on the coffee table. He gets up reluctantly, ambling over to the door and opening it.

He blinks.

He leans out into the hallway, but he doesn't see anyone.

Odd.

Why did someone knock on his door and then leave?

He glances down, hesitating as he sees a small package, Barnes scrawled across it in sharpie. He squats, glancing behind him at where Steve is still preoccupied with mulling over his tap water.

Bucky nudges the package, and when it doesn't spontaneously combust, he opens it.

Oh.

He blinks, staring down at the strawberry shortcake looking back up at him. He stares down at it for a moment, taken off guard.

You'd baked him a cake?

Why would you do that?

He stares at it for a few more moments, as if waiting for it to disappear or change into something else. When it stays the same, he quickly replaces the lid, gingerly lifting it up into the safety of his arms.

"Steve, I'm leaving."

Before his friend can respond, Bucky steps out of the apartment.

He can't eat this cake alone, and he knows exactly who he wants to share it with.

~~~~~

"I made that for you, not me."

"I know." Barnes stands at the door of your apartment, the box of cake held in his large hands. You stare up at him rather curiously, your hand still on the door.

That's... awful nice of him.

To want to share with you.

You're not one to turn down free cake, even if it is one you gifted to someone else. You're not sure why you gave it to him, why you even went through the trouble of baking it. You just... couldn't sleep last night, so of course you'd made your way down to the kitchen, somewhere you enjoy being.

And, somehow, you'd ended up making strawberry shortcake.

You take a step back, allowing Bucky to enter your apartment. He heads for the kitchen area, as all the apartments are built the same. He sits the cake on the table identical to his own, lifting the lid off. Admittedly, his mouth is watering, and he's incredibly excited to try the cake. It's been all he can do not to run his finger along the edge of it.

"I'll grab some plates," you step by him, heading for the cabinets. Bucky looks over at you, watching how your t shirt rises to reveal your lower back as you reach up, grabbing two small plates. He can't help but notice this is the first time he's ever seen your legs, that you're wearing those little pajama shorts women wear these days. You turn, grabbing some forks out of the dish drain before setting everything on the table.

You nab a knife from a drawer, and present it to Barnes. "You have the honor, it's your cake."

He nods his head, quickly turning. Of course, he knows he's going to make a mess out of your cake, that it won't be pretty by the time he's done cutting it. However, he supposes, cake is for eating, not decoration.

You sit down, watching as Bucky cuts the cake, looking as excited at a child. You prop your chin on your hand, absently tugging on a loose strand of your hair. You always keep it up and out of your way, you don't even know why you leave it so long, it's never down. You suppose it must just be a habit from cooking, you always try to keep it out of the way.

Barnes clumsily puts the cake on the plates, and then sits down, reaching quickly for his fork. You smile to yourself, trying not to be obvious. Your fork hovers above your plate, your eyes on him as he takes his first bite.

He actually groans.

You blink.

Is that good?

It certainly makes you want to squirm in your chair, that's for sure.

"Is that a good sign or are you dying?" you ask lightly, liking the flush on his cheeks.

"It's, uh, pretty good. I haven't had one of these since my birthday back in," he hesitates. "1941."

"What?" you stare at him, your fork halfway to your mouth.

"My mom made it for me just before I left for the war," Bucky shrugs his shoulders. "It was the last one I ever had."

"Remind me to make them pretty often for you then." you say, a little off guard. There he went, reminding you he was really an old guy in a hot guys body. "No one should be deprived of cake."

Bucky grins, his eyes flicking to your face before away. He can't help it, there's something about you that makes him relax. Maybe it's the look in your eye, so similar to his. You hide behind a prickly exterior, snarky and condescending all the time.

But, you're easy for him to read.

You're scared, your life has not been kind, and therefore you've built hardy walls around yourself. You might not have been through the same kind of abhorrence's as Bucky, but the sad look in your eyes mirrors his own.

Kindred spirits.

You've suffered your own way in your life.

So, Bucky is glad you didn't let Steve die. He'd been hoping some kind of opportunity would present itself, for the mission to show you both that you had nothing to fear from the other. Bucky's hopeful Steve would trust you now, that he wouldn't keep you at such a distance.

Bucky is obviously still waiting for the moment Steve wins you over as well.

It'll happen eventually.

"I'm not much of a cook, so I hope you're not expecting a grand meal from me any time soon," you say after a moment, halfway through with your cake. "I mean, baking is basically my only talent."

"I don't see why I would expect a meal from you," he shakes his head. "This is more then I expected."

"Well, you mentioned you liked it. So I figured I could make it for you."

"When did you even bake this? We just got here last night."

"I couldn't sleep, I made a midnight kitchen raid at the last minute. Eventually the chef is going to realize something's up."

"I doubt he cares. You left him cupcakes last time we were there."

"True, and he didn't die of poisoning, so either he didn't eat them or I didn't put enough arsenic in them."

Bucky chuckles, relaxing as he props his elbows on the table, finished before you are.

"Don't be shy. Eat as much as you like," you urge, pleased he enjoyed it so much. You've not made very many shortcakes, so you'd been the tiniest bit worried.

"No, I figure I'll save it, make it last."

"It's cake, it's impossible to make it last longer then a few days," you shake your head. "It'll disappear quicker the more you try to savor it. Besides, I can always make another one."

"Why are you so interested in baking me sweets?"

"I'm not. Technically this is the only thing I've ever made you."

"And why did you make it for me?" Bucky's curious, he can't help the question slipping from his lips. You're nicer to him then any of the rest of the team, and he wonders if it's because you just don't know his history. Everyone else did have to face him in battle, both under Hydra's control and when he was on the lam. They worry he'll turn on them one day, and honestly he worries the same thing.

You're the only person who treats him normal.

Even Steve treats him more like a wounded animal sometimes then his friend.

"Because you said you liked it." You say simply, poking at some crumbs on your plate. "And I didn't have anything else to do."

You like baking, and you like people being happy when they taste what you've created. It's one of your favorite things, seeing people enjoy your pastries and your cakes, for their faces to light up at the delicious taste.

It's what makes you happy.

And damned aliens aren't going to take that away from you!

Your shop might be ruined, but you'll find a way to bake!

"Fair enough." He'll take that answer.

He glances at your hands, seeing they were still bruised, but not nearly as bad. They almost look their normal coloring now, although you seem to be favoring your left one.

"How are you feeling, anyway?" he asks after a moment, looking at the table. 

"I'm fine, why?"

"The mission the other day. You getting trapped."

"Oh, that." You frown. You've been trying not to think about it honestly. "It's not a big deal, I just messed up. Trust me, one of you is going to have to carry me the next time, I'm not lagging behind." you roll your eyes. "Stark's never going to let me live in down."

"Probably not, he's good for that."

"So I've noticed. Are you sure you're done?"

"Yes."

You stand, gathering the plates and utensils and taking them to your sink. You sit them down, running water over the plates to wash the crumbs away.

You appreciate Bucky coming by, actually.

Er, you mean Barnes.

You don't like thinking of anyone by their first name, it meant you were becoming friends with them, or thought more of them then you should. Speaking with just their last names made it less personable, and it's how you prefer it.

So, Barnes.

You just had to remind yourself of that.

"Wanda is having this thing in the lounge later, were you going to go?" you ask lightly, turning from the sink to look at Barnes where he sits at your table. "Some small get together or something, I don't know what it's about."

"No. I don't... usually go."

"Why not? Do they get too drunk and show their asses?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not usually invited."

"Well, do they say you're not invited, or do you just not show up? I doubt she'd care. If it makes you feel better, she didn't formally invite me either. Natasha told me about it."

"I heard Steve mention it, but no thanks."

Huh.

"So what are you going to do tonight then?" you question, pushing the button on the Keurig. After something sweet, you'd love some coffee. "Do you have a long night of brooding ahead of you or something?"

"Something like that. Lots of menacing scowls, some dramatic monologues."

Your lips twitch.

Someone is getting quippy.

"You've already got the scowl down pat, don't worry. Do you take sugar or cream?"

"Just black."

Figures.

You slip the coffee cup in front of him, then make your own. You add some sugar and cream to it before returning to your seat. It's nice, having someone normal to chat with, just drinking coffee and talking about every day things. You talk a little about the others, but not much, you're not really interested in them.

You don't question him about his past, or anything to do with being part of the Avengers now. Instead, you talk about baking, about pastimes. You ask him what he enjoys, but he can't really answer you. He doesn't know what makes him content anymore.

"How about you bake with me sometime then?" you ask lightly, smiling at him. "It could be fun, and you could learn to make your own cake. You might realize you like it."

"Uh, that's okay. I'm not --- no thanks." he shakes his head quickly. It might be ridiculous, but he sees baking as more of a female thing. He's never even cooked, his mother always took care of that. He can make coffee, and that's the extent of his knowledge.

Well, unlike Steve, he can also use a microwave.

"You say that now, but it's relaxing." you cup your hands around your cup, lifting it to your lips as you gaze at him, your eyes wide and calculating. "We might find a pastime for you yet."

He doesn't quite like the way you say that.

~~~~~~~

"Sounds ominous."

"You don't even know what that word means, Wanda."

"Uh, yeah, I do. It's like, potentially creepy."

"Well, that's close enough." Natasha sounds amused as she looks at the younger girl sitting beside her. It's late in the afternoon, but they're both sitting at the bar in the lounge, relaxing after the long day. They're waiting for the chef to bring out their food so they can retire to the movie lounge, marathon a few shows.

Just relax.

"So, have you noticed anything about the new girl since she's been staying here?" Wanda asks after a moment, twisting her straw in her drink.

"What do you mean?"

"I saw Bucky leaving her room earlier today."

"Bucky?"Natasha is surprised.

"Yes. And he never even leaves his own room. What was he doing in hers?"

"I have no idea --- it's also none of our business."

"Do you think they have a thing?" Wanda continues, pretending she didn't hear Natasha at all. "I mean, what else could it mean?"

"Perhaps they're just friends."

"Yeah, a guy isn't going to leave a girls room in the middle of the day with a package. Either he's carrying a severed head from a ex boyfriend of hers she took out, or he's smuggling something suspicious!" Wanda decides, leaning back on her stool. "Or, they're having her affair and that was her underwear."

"Wanda!"

"What? Maybe he's one of those weird guys who likes trophies."

"I seriously don't want to be having this discussion right now," Natasha says in exasperation, although she does file the information away from later. Why would Bucky be leaving your room with a package?

She doubts he dropped by to borrow sugar.

"Come on, let's go watch some movies," she says as the food arrives. "Melt our brains for a few hours."

"That sounds like an awesome idea."

~~~~~

"Wanda said she saw Bucky leaving (Y/N)'s room."

"What?" Steve looks at the red headed assassin in surprise. One moment he's enjoying his meal, the next she's sitting down in front of him.

"You heard me. Is there something going on the rest of us should know about?" Natasha casually asks, sipping from her own drink. Considering the movie was having a mild intercession, she figured she could ask old cap what was going on.

"I'm not aware of anything." Steve picks at his meal. "If they're becoming friends, what does it matter?"

"It doesn't. I'm just surprised."

"Why?"

"Because both of them are as approachable as a porcupine." She leans back in her chair. "He's barely said four words to anyone and yet he's leaving her room with packages? Something is up."

Steve stares at her.

A package?

"What kind of package?"

"I don't know, just a small box from what Wanda said. Why? What do you think is going on?" Natasha hesitates, seeing the look of worry on Steves face.

He glances around, and then tells her of his concerns. He replays the last mission with Hydra, how you disappeared, and now with Bucky suddenly advocating for you.

Natasha frowns, listening intently. It's not that they're gossiping, but as clever as Hydra is, Steve doesn't want to take any risks. He doesn't want to admit he's worried about Bucky --- but one word, and his friend could turn on them in battle.

He doesn't want to take any chances and risk losing Bucky again.

"You brought her onto this team, Steve." Natasha is frowning, leaning back, a serious look on her face. "You told Coulson, and you know how they research."

"Doesn't matter. They still had someone infiltrate his very team. No matter how much research they do, Hydra will always have someone on the inside. I want to trust everyone I fight with, but I can't her."

"Then don't fight with her, don't take her on any missions. Leave her here at Stark Tower, she can't do any damage. I'll keep an eye on her."

"That won't help." Steve sighs, running his hands down his face. "I just don't know what to do. I never should have went into that bakery."

"No, you should have never told anyone about who you found there." Natasha corrected, voice firm. "That was your mistake, Steve. She doesn't want this life, do why can't she just go? Let her become a civilian again, talk to Coulson, to S.H.I.E.L.D."

"I couldn't tell them of my suspicions without proof, they'd take her immediately. I'm not sure if she'd fight them or not, and that would make it worse."

Natasha agrees. The situation is delicate, she'll admit. However, as long as you're loyal to the team, like you have been, she's going to give you the benefit of the doubt.

Honestly, it's naive of her. She knows she should immediately be suspicious and keep a thorough tab on you. Being in Stark Tower, you're under constant surveillance whether you know it or not. She's not worried as long as you're there.

But elsewhere?

That's the problem.

~~~~~

Bucky sits at his table, vacantly looking at the heated food in front of him. Leftovers, just warm enough to eat, but nothing grand.

He's assuming you went to Wandas gathering tonight, that you would be spending time with the other Avengers.

He doesn't like going to anything like that, it makes him feel like even more of an outcast. The way everyone looks at him --- the way he looks at himself --- they won't start trusting him until he's no longer a threat to them, and that's not going to happen.

He wants to make up for all the horrible things he's done in the past, even if he wasn't in control of himself. He rarely sleeps because now all the memories --- they just come rushing back to haunt him.

He can't talk about them, he won't. Speaking of them reminds him that they're real, and he finds no solace in that. He wants his nightmares to remain just that!

So he avoids the rest of the Avengers, he stays off to himself at all costs. He's thought many times of leaving, of going somewhere else again, but somehow someone always finds him ---- there's nowhere he can hide from his demons.

So he's not going to try again.

Fighting Hydra last week, battling them again, it had reminded him of what he could be. Hearing your shriek from somewhere in the jungle, knowing you were frightened --- his heart almost pumped out of his chest!

He doesn't like that feeling.

That's what getting attached does, it makes you think about others, it makes you feel pain when something bad happens to them.

Bucky knows, one day, he would inevitably betray them, whether by choice or not. When that does happen, he doesn't want to be so attached to any of them that he feels overwhelming pain or guilt --- Steve is enough.

Bucky doesn't want anymore friends.

He couldn't stand the thought of it.

~~~~~~~

Okay, game plan.

You hesitate as you stand outside Bucky's apartment, your hand poised to knock against his door. You have a tray in your other arm, some Chinese food you'd ordered beneath the lid. You'd thought you could do something nice for Barnes , you don't like the idea of him being by himself all the time while his friends are partying.

You figure even if he doesn't want you to hang out with him you could give him some food.

You don't know why you're so nervous.

You lean back on your heels, glancing around to make sure the hall is still empty. You feel ridiculous, standing out there with a tray in the crook of your arm. You kind of feel like you're pushing your company on Barnes , but you're not really fond of anyone else but Wanda , who is closer with the rest of the avengers and therefore not someone you can really trust.

So, you'll just drop some food off with Barnes and go on your merry way.

You finally just knock, nervously rapping your knuckles against his apartment door. You much prefer leaving them at his door and disappearing, but considering he'd tracked you down last time, you figure there isn't a point.

It takes a moment, but then the door is easing open.

"Hey," you say brightly, putting a smile on your lips.

"Uh, hey." He looks surprised to see you.

"I brought you some Chinese," you shuffle, offering him the small tray. "Figured you might like it, I guessed for you so I don't know if you'll... like it or not."

Are you rambling?

Oh jeez.

"Oh, thank you." Barnes takes the tray rather gratefully. "Do I ---?"

"Owe me? Nah."

He nods. "I'll pay you back sometime then. Are you going to Wanda s gathering tonight?"

"I didn't really plan on it." You lean back on your heels. "I don't like big crowds. Especially when Tin Man is there with his haughty attitude."

"Stark? Oh. I thought you'd intended on going." Barnes looks down at the hot tray in his hands. "You just going to spend the night by yourself then?"

"More then likely. Oh, tomorrow I'm going down to my bakery to do some cleaning, do you want to come with? I could use an extra set of muscles." You tease, liking his flush.

"I, uh --- I --- I mean," Barnes stammers a moment, starting to become embarrassed. For some great assassin, he's certainly at a loss for words. "Do you really...want me too? I kind of stick out in a crowd."

His metal hand moves pointedly.

"Wear a coat. Meet me downstairs at noon, how about that?" You nearly roll your eyes, starting to turn away. "You wouldn't want me to strain myself with hard work, would you? There's a cake in it for you!"

Bribery, eh?

"I doubt you'll strain yourself," he vaguely looks amused. "But I'll help, if I can."

"Great!" You smile at him, your soft eyes crinkling in the corners. You don't need his help, honestly you're not sure why you'd just invited him, it had just slipped out.

Maybe it's because you're not getting the amount of social interaction even you're used too. You run a bakery, you talk to people all day, but here... well, you mostly keep to yourself.

And it wouldn't hurt Barnes to get out a little either.

"Well, I'll let you eat before it gets cold." You say, taking a step back; again, you don't want to push your company, you've never been that kind of person. You'd invited him out tomorrow so that's going to be your limit.

Barnes waits a beat, then speaks. "You know we can eat together, don't you? I stopped worrying you'd poison me days ago, you're very bad at it."

You blink a moment at him, and grin when you realize he's joking. "You don't mind?"

You're so relieved.

"No." He takes a step back, metal hand holding the door open so you can walk inside.  "I don't like eating alone either."

~~~~~~~

"You haven't been back here, have you?" Bucky asks as you both walk I to the remains of your bakery.

Oh great, now the upstairs is falling through the ceiling!

"No," you sigh, purveying all the damage. "I haven't had time."

"How much is it going to cost you to rebuild?" He leans down, lifting the two halves of a table up. You'd swept a lot of the worst of the debris onto the street, but now there's even more to be dealt with.

You're not quite sure how structurally sound the building even is, or if it's safe to be inside now! The entire second floor could collapse any second!

Good thing you don't have to go up there.

You chew your lower lip.

"Around eighty thousand dollars."

"What?" Bucky stares at you in surprise, but you merely shrug.

"That's just my guesstimate. It would be cheaper for me to just move to a new location since the building is what's going to need all the work, but I'm partial to this one." You're a little sentimental. Plus, you own the building --- no one's going to want to buy it in this condition.

You're basically bankrupt at this point.

Honestly the cost is going to be more then that, but you don't know how bad the building is. You feel absolutely lost as you look around, wondering of there's even a point in cleaning up.

The building might as well be condemned, bulldozed down and then rebuilt. Considering half the city is in shambles, you know you're not going to be able to get a loan, either.

People are flooding homeless shelters, and a majority of community centers are full as well --- people have nowhere to go with their homes gone. Traffic is a mess on all the highways, getting in and out is nearly impossible --- you're just relieved that, admittedly thanks to the Avengers, there's enough food where people aren't starving.

Stark had planes flying in and out all hours of the day and night carrying in supplies from all over the world, forking out his own money to do so.

So you give him points for that.

"Why don't you move then?" Barnes asks, lifting some busted concrete pieces up and tossing them out onto the sidewalk like he's tossing apples.

"Because I like this building, it's mine. I bought it because the location, and it's pretty here." You say, stepping behind the counter. "So I'm going to fix it."

"It will be simpler to tear it down."

"Maybe. We'll see." You might be able to salvage it.

You hope so, anyway.

Bucky doesn't say another word, he just begins helping you clean. You start working in the kitchen area, which with the exception of a broken oven and busted lights, is mostly intact. Sure, the steel beam through the oven probably means the ceiling above will collapse at any moment, but that's totally fine.

Maybe you'll live.

Killed in your own bakery seems appropriate anyway.

You'll die in your favorite place!

You know none of the ingredients in the fridge will be salvageable, but you start gathering the rest of your tools and supplies before they ruin or get stolen.

You have at least four large boxes piled by the time you have the island done, taking all your pots and pans as well.

They're expensive, you're not leaving them behind!

"Hey, (Y/L/N), what do you want done with these tables?"

"Just toss the broken ones into the street," you call, dusting some of your pans off; you're glad Barnes had a car and you can pack this stuff in it! You couldn't imagine having to carry everything, and you know some people might freak out if they see boxes floating down the street. "There's no point in keeping them."

"Fine."

You sigh, straightening after another hour, your lower back aching. You're covered in dust and ash again, the knees of your jeans blackened. You have quite a few boxes packed up now, and you hope they fit in the car, you don't want to leave them behind.

"How's it going in there?" You call, stepping to the swinging doors. You push one open, and blink.

Oh nice!

Barnes has managed to move all the broken furniture out into the street, and he's picked up all the glass and anything else sharp and placed in the corner. Your display cases are empty, and he'd knocked what pieces of glass had been in them out.

So, although the front looks like it's been abandoned and Crack heads have lived in it for ten years, it doesn't look as bad as it had with all the destruction.

"Oh it looks so nice in here!" You gasp, pleased as you clasp your hands. You walk forward, the counter door swinging against your hips. "You got everything up!"

"Well, I did what I could." Barnes shrugs his shoulders, dusting off his hands.

"You did much more then I could, even with super powers." You say, almost earning a smile. "Thank you!"

"I said I would help. Besides, now it's easier to imagine what it looked like before." His eyes scan the chalkboard menu against the far wall, the billboard you have beside it with people's notes on it saying wonderful things and photos.

Your shop must have been popular.

"Well, it was definitely nicer then this." Your hands go to your hips, following his gaze. "There was never a dull day."

"You enjoyed it though?"

"Oh yes. Baking is my thing, it's what I'm good at. I loved opening the shop and people coming in, sampling my cakes --- I especially love decorating the holiday cakes." You smile at the memory. "People order the craziest things, like I had a severed head for a Halloween party once. It took me three ruined cakes and a lot of cussing, but I made it!"

"Sounds like you like a challenge." Barnes looks amused, but you shrug your shoulders.

"I just know what I love. I like making people happy with little treats." You admit, turning away. "It makes people smile."

It's the only way you make people smile.

Bucky doesn't say a word, just watches you return to the back. There it is again, that haunted look in your eye.

Whatever happened to you in the past, it still has a hold of you. Bucky understands that, his own demons still haunt him. He almost wants to ask, for you to tell him what makes you so sad, why you can't sleep at night, why you so adamantly cling to your baking.

It's your escape, you bake so you don't think, he recognizes it for what it is.

He just wishes he knew what he could do to help.

He'd told himself earlier that he wasn't going to be friends with you, that he wouldn't get close to you.

Yet here he is, doing that exactly. He just can't help himself, he's drawn to you for some reason.

What's he getting himself into?