Bucky sat at the kitchen island, drinking his coffee and trying not to glare murderously at the Avengers gathered in the kitchen where Steve was cooking pancakes. Once he had drunk another two or three gallons of coffee he could work on being more sociable. So sue him, he was never a morning person.
After a few months of living with Steve they had started to visit the Tower so Bucky could meet Steve’s new team and start getting reacquainted with New York, beyond Steve’s Brooklyn neighborhood. He’d met almost all of them according to Steve.
Tony, loud-mouthed, brash, annoying. Bucky avoided him whenever possible, especially when Tony looked at his arm with a manic gleam in his eyes. He did like the new upgrade Tony had given him, but hell if he wanted to be poked and prodded whenever Tony felt like it.
Thor, loud, boisterous, welcoming. He reminded Bucky of nothing but himself, which he liked.
Bruce, quiet, calm, with a core of danger inside. Bucky could relate.
Sam, funny, kind, with the simple practicality of a solider. Sam he liked a lot.
Natasha. Natasha he knew before, but is learning another side to her here. She will probably never be fully at ease anywhere, like him, too much of the trained killer to ever relax completely. But she enjoys this group, and her life here, and Bucky is glad of it. Glad for the little red-haired girl he remembered, and for the woman who had helped Steve so much.
Steve mentioned as they took the subway to the Tower that morning that Hawkeye should be back from California and he can meet him. As yet though, two cups of coffee into breakfast and this “Hawkeye” has yet to appear. With a smile Steve sets a plate with 6 pancakes in front of him and Bucky decides to ignore the mystery of the missing Avenger and being sociable for a little longer in favor of pancakes.
So when a strange blond saunters into the room barefoot wearing Captain America sweats and a hoodie, Bucky’s mouth is full of pancakes. Which he proceeds to choke on, because what the fuck?! Who the hell was this guy wearing Steve’s shirt?!
“Hey Steve!” The blond calls out, a broad smile on his face. “Your new stuff is great, nice and soft!” Steve turns from the stove and Bucky waits for him to yell at this guy for wearing his crap, Steve doesn’t even let Bucky wear his clothes!
To his shock though, Steve just laughs and says, “Glad you like it, Clint! Bucky, this is Hawkeye, who I was telling you about. He’s the sniper who prefers a bow. Clint, Bucky, Bucky, Clint.”
The blond, Clint, came over to Bucky his hand outstretched and a smile on his face, but all Bucky could see was the pattern of Steve’s shield across his chest. He ignored the hand in front of him and the man in favor of glaring at Steve and saying with sharpness, “What the hell Steve?!” When Steve, and everyone else just looked at him in confusion, Bucky pushed his chair back sharply and left the room.
Forget Steve, not telling him about his fella, forget Clint taking his best friend away when he’d just gotten him back. It was official, he hated Clint, and he was going home and going back to bed.