Imagine Bucky and Steve finding out about some of the mental disabilities that didn't have names when they were growing up and in the process finding a stronger sense of self and community.
It’s called the DSM-V, and it has an entire article about Bucky in it.
Not by name or anything, but Steve knows how to read between the lines. Some of the criteria are things he’s been aware of since they were kids, and some of them are bright moments of realisation as memories of Bucky’s various quirks are dragged into a whole new light.
People with ADHD show a persistent pattern of inattention and/or hyperactivity-impulsivity that interferes with functioning or development…often fails to give close attention to details…difficulty sustaining attention in tasks…easily distracted by extraneous stimuli…fidgets with or taps hands or squirms in seat…blurts out answers before questions have been completed…
Steve thinks the DSM-V would have been handy to have around when he and Bucky were in school, back when the only behavioural distinction their schoolmasters drew was between boys who sat still through their lessons and boys who would very soon wish that they had. By some mysterious convergence of natural genius and sheer good luck, Bucky’s school reports always came out with glowing grades - accompanied by bewildered and often acerbic commentary on his many failings of discipline. “He is a spirited young lad,” said one of the kinder masters. “His marked moral defect causes disruption to classroom order and to the progress of his fellow students,” wrote one of the less kind.
“You should read this,” Steve tells Bucky, handing over a stapled photocopy of the relevant pages - if they look more like a dossier and less like an actual book, Steve figures Bucky might actually pay attention instead of shoving them under the bed with the rest of his unsorted laundry and broken household furnishings.
“Sure,” says Bucky, and…doesn’t. As if the universe is determined to support Steve’s suspicions with as much evidence as possible, he promptly loses the print-out. Steve sets aside the temptation to feel frustrated and just reads the article aloud over a nice strong cup of coffee.
When he’s done, there’s a long moment of silence broken only by the rhythmic drumming of Bucky’s fingers on the table. “Well, shit,” says Bucky thoughtfully. “That’s…I dunno, I thought I was just lazy or something.”
He sounds perfectly nonchalant, but Steve knows better. “You’re not lazy,” he snorts, and leans over the table to give Bucky’s “You’re the hardest-working guy I know.” He takes in the barely-concealed look of skepticism and discomfort and hope on Bucky’s face and knows that there’s not going to be a conversation about this - not yet. Bucky has spent too much time and effort burying this to open it all back up now.
Later, though, the DSM-V goes missing. Steve finds it in the same place he finds Bucky: up on the secluded roof in a patch of warm afternoon sun, drumming his fingers unconsciously on the tiles as he pores over the book with his tongue between his teeth and a deep furrow of concentration on his brow.
Imagine Bucky finding out that Steve and Tony are married and raising Peter and just being really confused because he still thought it was illegal (not that he was against it but he just didn't know)
For the most part, Bucky chooses to tactfully ignore the fact that Steve and Tony are married, because A) he still maintains some hope that Steve will decide that being in an open marriage is a good idea, and B) because the first time he confronted Steve about not telling him that he was married, they had a fight and neither of them spoke to each other for two weeks. When Bucky finally agreed to move into the tower, it was on an unspoken agreement that they wouldn’t talk about things.
He doesn’t dislike Tony Stark, per se, but he’ll admit (under great duress) that he’s jealous that it was Tony who got the chance to do what Bucky never could. And…a little jealous that Steve had the chance to move on without him.
But honestly, those are feelings he can deal with (mild lie; he deals with them by avoiding interacting with anyone for the first two weeks he lives in the Tower). What he can’t deal with is the strangely-pervasive presence of a scrawny brown-haired teenager, who seems bizarrely committed to stealing the remote, eating all the cereal in the kitchen, and being in all the places Bucky wants to be. Tony and Steve treat the kid with a weird sort of paternal doting that frankly makes Bucky want to be either six states over or somewhere deep in the Atlantic Ocean. And since he’s still working out how to interact with them, he’s not exactly excited to have them introduce him to their…kid?
He hopes it’s not their kid. God knows that would just be icing on the weirdness cake. But he has no idea, and as much as he doesn’t want to talk to Steve about it, he does want to figure everything out.
So about three days after he moves into the Tower, when Bucky comes down in the morning and finds the kid sitting at the breakfast bar, smearing a bagel with cream cheese, he takes a seat on the stool next to him and pours himself a cup of coffee before finally clearing his throat.
“So who…exactly are you?”
“Peter Parker. Spider-Man. Maybe you’ve heard of me?”
“The guy that one newspaper guy is always upset about?”
“Yeah, well. Everyone’s gotta be mad about something. I make a living selling selfies to my boss, so it could be worse.”
The conversation hasn’t really helped Bucky figure things out at all. “So are you…do you have a family? Do you live here?”
“I’ve got my aunt. Everyone else is…” he shrugs. “But yeah, Aunt May looks out for me.”
“You have part of a family, then.” But for all he knows, the kid’s got a bad home relationship. Steve brings home strays like it’s his job, so Bucky’s not exactly surprised that he and Tony (and Tony) acquired a kid. “So do you live here?”
Peter shrugs and stuffs half a bagel into his mouth. “On and off. I like these guys, also they feed me. Plus I think Aunt May likes having me out of her hair, as long as she knows where I am. I mean, honestly, I’m getting in less trouble than usual. Who knows, maybe Steve’s responsibility is wearing off on me.”
When Bucky doesn’t respond, he shrugs again. “I think it makes ‘em feel better. Tony likes throwing money and presents at people, and Steve’s…Captain America. They’re both great guys. Not sure exactly what Aunt May thinks about the whole ‘surrogate gay dads’ thing, but as long as nothing gets too weird, she’s okay with it. And so’m I. Like I said - free food.”
And Bucky can’t argue with that, so he doesn’t.
Imagine Bucky accidentally walks in on Clint and Natasha in the middle of basically tearing each others' clothes off. And as they both stop and turn to look at him, he freezes in place frantically trying to decide whether it would be more prudent to apologize profusely or try to walk back out and pretend he didn't see anything. But instead of being awkward, they just look back at each other, then back to Bucky, then share a silent agreement, and Natasha casually asks if he wants to join them.
when bucky wanders into the kitchen to grab quick three a.m. snack, the first thing he sees is clint sitting on the counter, legs wrapped around natasha’s waist and moaning while she grips his ass and grinds her hips against his. bucky makes a noise that could be generously called a squeak and slams his eyes shut.
“sorry sorry, shit I’m sorry! uh I’m just gonna go, fuck, sorry.”
“bucky,” he hears nat say, breathy and rough and he can actually feel his eyes twitch with the effort of keeping them closed, “you don’t have to leave.”
he cracks one eye open. “what?”
clint and nat are both staring at him intently, as if they would like nothing better than to undress him with their eyes alone and he is really completely okay with that.
“are you guys sure?” he says, because his mother (and steve) taught him to always ask for a lady’s permission, and that still applies in the 21st century, even when the lady is just as deadly (if not more so) than he is and there’s another guy thrown into the mix.
clint and nat both roll their eyes and sigh at him, although clint sighing might have more to do with the fact that natasha’s now got her hand cupped around the front of his pants, rubbing the straining denim steadily. clint stutters out a little moan, and yeah, that sigh was definitely because of nat, and grits out, “christ barnes, just get over here already. or leave. either way, hurry up and do somethin’ before this woman kills me.”
the sharp grin nat sends his way is beautiful and has him stripping out his clothes before he can think about what a bad idea this probably is. because it is definitely probably a bad idea. sleeping with two of his teammates? there’s gotta be something in the avengers handbook specifically stating that joining his teammates for a threesome is Against The Rules, but then, it’s a good thing he never bothered to read it.
(no one else walks in one them that night, most likely because they make enough noise that everyone in a three floor radius of the kitchen knows exactly what’s going on and just how much clint enjoys getting fucked. if it becomes a semi-regular thing, well, can you really blame them?)
Imagine Bucky stubbing his toe in the avengers tower and a) either yells out and loads of people come running or b) everyone's in the room and he doesn't really know what to do
when bucky stubs his toe, the room is already quiet and it makes an audible, awful ‘thunk’ noise against the coffee table. no one says anything for a split second, and then bucky mutters “fuck” in a very strangled voice.
"fuck. FUCK. fuckety fuck. what the fuck. ow."
"would you like me to kiss it better? tony offers, very solemnly, and then the room bursts out laughing.
(clint slips away during the commotion to grab him an ice pack and a towel from the kitchen, but by the time he gets back bucky is laughing too.)
Imagine Steve learning Russian so he can know what bucky and nat are saying but he doesn't tell them. He ends up hearing bucking saying that he loves him but he doesn't know how to tell him. Later he does and Steve is like shocked and says he does 2.
imagine bucky having his first orgasm post-winter soldier and it being a lot to handle but feeling good all the same
Sam takes it slow, one arm wrapped around Bucky’s waist and his lips on Bucky’s neck as he strokes him nice and easy, pausing occasionally to check on him. You still okay, man? Not overwhelmed? This still feeling good?
(There is an agreement between the three of them that Bucky’s first time out of recovery would be better with Sam, because Sam has none of the shared baggage that Steve and Bucky do. It doesn’t hurt that he’s an instinctively sensitive and careful fuck and makes him feel safe in a way that Steve, constantly self-regulating and wary of his own strength, can’t quite manage.)
And Bucky answers Sam in a voice that shakes, making his already-near-unintelligible babble nearly impossible to understand. Sam, Sam oh god it’s good - you’re - your hands, Sam, holy god how - how are you so good -
He’s close, or getting there. He can feel it building, and as his body tightens and he leans a little harder back against Sam’s chest, he knows that Sam can feel it too.
They’ve gotten this far once or twice, before Bucky, overwhelmed and afraid of losing himself, stopped it. This time, though, this time it’s feeling right and he wants it. Sam’s lips brush Bucky’s ear as he leans in to talk to him. “You want me to keep going?” he asks, and his touch is lighter as he prepares to let go. It’s unacceptable, and Bucky snaps his hips up, following his hand and trying to keep contact.
He’s barely even sure what he’s trying to say when he answers Sam with a sound that’s almost a growl and a rapidfire tumble of, “Yeah - yeah, don’t stop - god -”
And just like that, Sam accepts it (Steve would double-check and ruin the moment, Bucky’s almost certain) and pulls Bucky close against him again. His hand is firmer and faster on Bucky’s cock, lips and tongue working at a spot just behind Bucky’s ear that makes his toes curl, and god, he’s good, so good, and Bucky can’t relax, can’t focus on anything but Sam’s hand and the rapid approach of orgasm. There’s the barest ounce of dread just before he comes, but the heady, explosive release washes it away. He’s pretty sure he cries out, but for that moment all he can focus on is the rush of his body turning white-hot.
It’s a lot - almost too much - but it’s less unfamiliar than he was afraid it would be, and Sam is still there with him, the arm around his waist still firm, murmuring soothing reassurance into Bucky’s ear. He comes down slowly, surprising himself with the realization that his legs are shaking and Sam’s laughing quietly against his neck.
“Damn, Barnes,” he says. “Damn.”
When Bucky figures out how to talk again, he laughs back. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Damn.”
Sam grins and ruffles his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “You still good?”
“…yeah, yeah, I’m still good.”
“How was it?”
Bucky laughs again, a little incredulously. “Good. A lot. But good.”
Imagine Bucky if both Steve and Natasha get hurt on a mission. maybe Steve gets his bell rung but is back on his feet in a day or two, while Nat has to do some time in the hospital. Bucky likes to hover after anyone gets hurt, so he's real stressed out bc he cant both follow Steve around and sit at Nats door at the same time. Natasha is hurt worse; on the other hand, Steve is out and about, trying to deal with the aftermath of a bad mission and able to get into trouble. It's quite a dilemma
Bucky likes being able to look out for both his partners - he always keeps a watchful eye on both of them, whether they’re out on a mission or not. It was okay, at first, when both of them were in the same hospital room - they were together, and he could sit with both of them. But thanks to the super-soldier serum, Steve heals fast, and as soon as he’s cleared for action he takes off, they’ve gotten a lead on where the remaining HYDRA operatives had moved to. Bucky is torn between following Steve and staying with Nat, who heals significantly slower.
He keeps pacing the room, fiddling with his comm unit, when he hears a rough voice come from the hospital bed. “If you keep that up, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor, James.” Nat’s finally awake and smiling at him weakly. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
He hesitates for a second, and just then Sam enters the room. “I’d strongly advise you listen to the lady, Buck. I got this.” He glances at Nat, who nods at him approvingly. “Sam will keep you updated. I’ll be good in a day or two.”
Bucky takes off to join Steve, and they’re updated every half hour by Sam over the comms. “She’s still fine, gentlemen”, he reports every time, and they can hear Nat laughing in the background.
Imagine Bucky fingering Steve with his metal hand and Steve getting off on how cold the metal hand is.
He’s not sure how Steve can stand it; Bucky lives with the chill of the metal arm day in and day out, and contact between the metal and his bare skin still makes him shiver and flinch when he isn’t expecting it. He has a complicated relationship with the cold at the best of times, and his feelings on the arm are…neutral. But Steve loves it.
Even through the vinyl glove (because while Bucky is reasonably confident that his joints won’t pinch skin, he’s not exactly eager to take a chance with the most delicate parts of Steve), his hand is cold, and when he trails his fingers up Steve’s thigh, he can watch the goosebumps form.
“Jesus,” Steve says roughly, giving a suppressed little shiver under Bucky’s palms. “That feels good.”
“You still want this?”
“Yeah, I really do.”
“You’re so weird, Rogers,” he says softly, but he doesn’t mean it, and Steve laughs in response, trailing off into a breathless groan as Bucky presses a finger into him. “Weird and pretty,” Bucky amends, licking his lips and taking a deep breath as Steve’s head tilts back and his body arches into Bucky’s hand. “How’s that feel?” he asks, leaning in to kiss Steve’s neck, breathing roughly against his jugular.
“Cold,” Steve grits out. “Great.”
Bucky moves fast; he only has a few-minute window while his fingers are still cold, before they hit body temperature (and a little beyond, if he’s really exerting himself). But Steve likes it at that speed, twists his hips against Bucky’s hand and works his own dick at a pace only a supersoldier could set. Bucky is privately grateful that Steve likes the metal hand better - no nerves in the wrist to get sore - and he lets Steve control the intensity of the fuck.
When Steve comes (loudly, Steve’s always been a yeller and Bucky’s always loved the volume) and Bucky can finally disengage, he loops one arm around Steve’s waist and pulls him close.
“‘S’good like this,” Steve mumbles sleepily. “You’re good like this. Love you. Love all of you.”
And weird or not (Bucky’s discomfort with his own body means he’s always going to think it’s a little weird), the reassurance that Steve wants him and loves him, metal arm or not, helps Bucky sleep soundly.
I accidentally buckynat. And I entirely blame imaginebucky and their kapusta stories for it.
(As you probably already guessed, Nat says ‘Kapusta’ (cabbage) while Bucky goes ‘hm…?’ Tho I’m not a native speaker so feel free to correct me if anything’s wrong.)
Submitted by skinny-jeans-wearing-assassin
Because I simply cannot resist: imagine Bucky and the gang watching Sharknado or Sharknado 2.
darcy’s the one that ushers all of the avengers into the ridiculously comfortable living room of the tower for the first of many shitty movie mondays (her words). bucky’s not entirely sure why darcy wants to watch (or rewatch, actually) a movie that she just admitted to being incredibly shitty, but if living with the avengers for the past few months has taught bucky anything, it’s that sometimes you’ve just gotta go with the flow.
so he snuggles up between sam and steve on one of the overlarge couches, nat at his feet so he can braid her hair, and settles in to watch the shitty movie.
///eighty-six minutes later///
bucky turns to sam, wide-eyed and at a loss for words. “what the fuck did we just watch?”
sam shrugs helplessly. “i don’t know,” he whispers, horrified. “i have no fucking idea.”
darcy hops up from her position on the couch where she was squished between thor and maria, and smiles, not a care in the world. “alright,” she announces gleefully (evilly), “it’s time for ‘sharkndo 2: the second one!’”
a series of groans sound throughout the room. darcy’s grin just gets bigger.