Welcome To The New Age: Bucky/Avengers Fanfiction

Chapter 6

Bucky woke up to his blinds being ripped open. He rolled over, attempting to go back to sleep. He hadn't slept in forever. Whenever he'd slept, the nightmares came back. But something about being back with Steve made him feel safe. He felt that no one could harm him as he slept. This was the first sleep he'd had in who knows how long. He was mildly ticked that Steve had dared to disturb him.
"Rise and shine, princess." Steve said, pulling the covers off of Bucky.
Bucky fought back, pulling them back up.
"Go away Steve." Bucky said, his voice low and husky.
Steve shook his head.
"Buck, you gotta get up, today's important." Steve said, becoming increasingly frustrated.
"Ten... more... minu-" Bucky was out cold.
Steve sighed and left. He only had three hours to get Bucky up and make him presentable. Today was the day he was going to meet the team. He had manners to go over, things not to say, countless things that could make or break him. He really didn't want him to mess this up. If this went badly, Tony may not let him stay. He needed Bucky more than anything right now. Now that he was back in his life, Steve wasn't letting him go.
As promised, ten minutes later, Bucky trudged into the kitchen in gray boxers and one of Steve's old shirts. Steve had loved that shirt, and the fact that Bucky was wearing it made his heart skip a beat for some strange, unknown reason.
"I waan cuffie." Bucky slurred, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
"Here you are, champ." Steve said, giving him a mug.
Bucky downed it in a gulp.
"So what is so important about today?" he asked, still mostly asleep.
"Today, I'm going to introduce you to the team. Today could really make or break you. You've gotta be on your best behavior today."
"I'm not five Steve. I know what I'm doing. You're forgetting that I had to go on secret missions and such. I know manners." Bucky said, getting annoyed.
"Alright. I have some stuff we need to go over before the meeting, but first, you need to get ready." Steve said.
Bucky sighed in acceptance and walked into the bathroom. He was glad that his arm was waterproof, otherwise, it would make showering a much more difficult situation. Bucky hopped in the shower. As he was rinsing the grime from the past week or more out of his hair, the nerves came. What if they didn't like him? Where would he go? As much as he hated to admit it, he needed Steve. Now that he finally had a chance for an identity, he wasn't too keen on giving the only person who could help recreate it up.
Bucky got out of the shower and dried off. He wrapped the towel around his waist and strolled into the kitchen.
"Steve, what do you want me to wear? I don't have much, just your old clothes and my old HYDRA gear." Bucky asked hesitantly.
Steve began to panic. He hadn't thought about what Bucky was going to wear. He only had about two hours before the meeting. He needed that time to give Bucky his briefing.
"Steve? STEVE!" Bucky yelled, standing very close.
"Huh- What?" Steve said snapping out of his panicked daze.
"Are you okay?" Bucky asked, still close.
"I forgot clothes. How could I be so STUPID?" Steve said, smacking himself in the head repeatedly.
Suddenly, a plan came to Steve. He already had all the notes he wanted to go over with Bucky, why not just give them to him to read while Steve shopped?
"Wait. Buck, I'm going to give you some notes, I want you to read them over while I run out. What size are you?"
"I'm not sure how the sizes work now, I'm smaller than you, that I know." Bucky said, catching what Steve was getting at.
Steve handed Bucky the notes, yelled something about leftovers in the fridge and left.
Bucky began to read over the notes Steve had typed up. They were filled with information on each Avenger. Ways to make them like him, what not to say to each, and more. It was basically a lifeline for the meeting.
Bucky's mind drifted. He knew he had to mind his manners, but what if he couldn't control it? What if he wasn't good enough? He didn't want to make Steve look bad in front of his friends. He began thinking about his appearance. His long, stringy hair became that of a homeless man's in his mind; his stubble less dangerous and more criminal. Everything about him was inadequate. How was he going to make a good impression when he couldn't even like himself?
All the people he'd killed, all the times he'd laughed at other's pain. It suddenly became too much for James Buchanan Barnes. He couldn't think straight. He walked into the bathroom, found one of Steve's prescriptions, and praying that it would work, downed the bottle.