20

(Steve POV)

"Can I ask you for a favor?" I say into my cellphone. 

"I feel like you ask me for a lot of those," Natasha's voice answers back. "My car, that stunt at the airport..."

"A small favor," I revise. "I've got to go get Sam from the hospital, and I need someone to watch Bucky." 

"The grown man? That doesn't sound necessary and, again, you have my car." 

"Well, you have my bike." I hear her laugh. "Yeah, I hope you don't think I didn't notice that one." 

After being loaned Natasha's car, I noticed a distinct lack of motorcycle in my driveway. It didn't take very long to connect those dots.

"You're a family man now," she teases. "What do you need a bike for?"

I poke my head into Bucky's room to check on him. Like he has been for the last hour and a half, he's sitting on the edge of his bed, facing away from me. I haven't been able to get his attention, though he may just be ignoring me.

"Please get on my bike and drive it to my house." 

"Will you let me keep the bike? It's a nice bike."

"We'll see." I hang up. 

I circle around the bed and crouch in front of Bucky. He pays me no mind, cold eyes focused on the blank wall ahead of him.

"I'm going to the hospital to get Sam," I say in case he's just ignoring me. "I'll be home as soon as I can, but I've asked Natasha to come over and keep you company while I'm gone, okay?"

He doesn't answer, but I didn't expect him to.

"Okay," I say to myself as I straighten up, then leave the room. 

-----------------

"That sounds like a lot of fun," I tell Sam once he's finished regaling me with the story of what he and Bucky have been up to. "I'm kind of sad I missed it." 

"Fun?" he parrots. "Fun? Having to run around with Zemo is not fun. People died, Steve. And then there was that whole thing with Walker!" 

"Maybe it would have been more fun if I was involved." I park the car outside his house. 

"Honestly, I think I would rather have more adventures with the Winter Soldier than with Captain America. Oh wait, I am Captain America now." 

"Wow. All those good times we had together, and you're leaving me for my best friend."

"Yeah, he's a lot cuter than you are, too." He grins and pops his door open before I can even get another word in. 

Once I see that he's safely inside his house, I pull away from the curb and start the short drive home. When I get there, I see that my driveway still lacks a familiar bike and can only assume that Natasha never swung by like I asked her to. 

I unlock the front door and hang my coat on a nearby coatrack. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the kitchen, where Bucky is finally mobile as he sits atop a counter, swinging his legs a little and drinking coffee. 

"Hey," is all he says once I've turned to face him.

"Hi," I say in return, wondering if it would be appropriate to bring up how weird he was being this morning. "I went to go pick up Sam and bring him home." 

"I know." He gestures toward the fridge with his mug. "I got your note." 

Sure enough, there's a sticky note on the fridge reading: 'Went to hospital for Sam. Be back soon. Love you. Steve.' 

I didn't leave a note, so Natasha might have come over and done that instead of sticking around. 

There's a heavy silence, during which Bucky finishes off his coffee, sets down the mug, and pours himself another cup. He holds the coffee pot towards me to ask if I want any, and I shake my head. I had some before I left. 

"So, um," I start back up when he's halfway through with his second cup. "What was that this morning?"

"What was what? You were already gone when I woke up, I didn't see you this morning." 

Either he doesn't want to talk about it and is gaslighting me as a way to avoid it, or he genuinely has no idea what I'm talking about. 

"Yeah, you did! Before I left, and you were acting weird." 

"That didn't happen. I woke up, like, forty five minutes ago." 

I sigh exasperatedly because it definitely did happen. Maybe he doesn't remember it, or maybe he was sleepwalking, but it definitely happened. 

"Okay," I give in. "Did Nat come by, then? I asked her to check in while I was gone." 

"Not that I saw." He hops off of the counter, landing on both feet. I cringe, worrying for his injury that he shouldn't be putting weight on.

"You're not supposed to-"

"It feels fine."

I get that he has the same quick healing that I've got, but if the doctor said he should stay off that leg, then he should stay off that leg.

Unfortunately, he also has that same winning stubbornness that I've got, so he doesn't stay off of his leg. The wheelchair we brought home has probably been tucked into a dark corner where it can be efficiently forgotten. 

I feel my phone vibrate against my leg. When I check it, I find that the notification is a text from Nat.

N: hey i did go to ur house but barnes was asleep and i didnt think he needed checking in on anyway 

N: so i left him a little note and pretended it was from you 

I almost can't believe that he slept through her visit. He's always high alert, but I remember that Dr. Whit-something said that the medication they gave him would make him a little drowsy. 

S: I don't sign things with 'Love you,' but it worked well enough.

N: he thought it was actually from you, then? thats great i practiced so hard to copy ur handwriting

S: Why? 🤔

N: in case i needed it???

A little disturbed by the information that Nat has perfected my handwriting on purpose, I decide to leave our conversation at that.

Admittedly, it does warm my heart to know that Bucky believes I would sign a note for him with 'Love you.' I worry sometimes that he thinks I hate him, as if I ever could. 

(I forget if anyone is reading this but I got a spurt of inspiration so enjoy that while it lasts)