Chapter Text
Bucky woke up from a scream.
For one brief, disoriented moment, he thought he’d woken up in a war zone—body tense, heart thudding, hand already reaching for the knife under his pillow. Then he registered two things: one, his door was wide open, and two, Yelena was standing in the hallway, holding a crumpled bag of chips like it had personally wronged her.
Bucky blinked, still half tangled in his blankets. “What the hell?”
Yelena didn’t even look at him, just pointed an accusatory finger at the far end of the common room where Walker was leaning casually against the counter, munching on a handful of chips.
“There are millions of different types of chips in this world,” Yelena began, voice a mixture of outrage and disbelief, “and you buy salt and vinegar?! A whole pallet?!”
Walker raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “ „They were on offer. And they‘re good“
Yelena scoffed. “Good? Who even invented that? It tastes like punishment.”
“Oh, I’m soo sorry,” Walker deadpanned, deliberately crunching another chip. “Didn’t know I needed a permit for snacks.”
Yelena looked genuinely offended, which, considering the things she normally shrugged off, was impressive. “Of all the snacks in the store, you pick something that tastes like an accident?”
Bucky sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. “Are you seriously yelling about chips at seven in the morning?”
Yelena turned to him, gesturing dramatically with the bag. “I thought Americans had taste. You eat so much processed garbage, but even you should know this is objectively wrong.”
Walker shrugged, completely unbothered. “Well, I like salt and vinegar chips.”
Yelena opened her mouth to argue, but Bucky cut in, his voice dry. “Yeah, okay, fair point.”
For a second, Yelena just glared at him, then dramatically dropped the bag onto the counter, muttering something in Russian that didn’t sound complimentary. She made her way over to the fridge, still shaking her head in disbelief.
Bucky leaned back against the headboard, exhaling slowly as his pulse returned to normal. “You couldn’t pick a quieter way to complain?”
Yelena pulled out a yogurt, giving him a look. “I woke up, craving something decent, and instead, I found betrayal.”
“Betrayal?” Walker snorted. “It’s just chips.”
She leveled him with a glare that would have sent lesser men running. “You don’t understand. Food is important. Life is too short to eat something that makes your mouth feel like it’s been pickled.”
Bucky couldn’t help the faint smirk. “You should’ve seen what Steve used to eat. Whole wheat everything. Like chewing cardboard.”
Walker grinned. “Guess that’s what makes a hero.”
Yelena looked at both of them like they were entirely beyond help. “You’re both hopeless,” she declared before storming off with her yogurt, muttering something about “barbarians” under her breath.
Walker looked over at Bucky, shrugged, and popped another chip into his mouth. “Don’t know what her problem is. These are great.”
Bucky just shook his head, still trying to shake the lingering adrenaline from his abrupt wake-up. It wasn’t the first time Yelena had turned something mundane into a crisis, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.
Bucky finally forced himself out of bed, throwing on a shirt and shoving his feet into his worn combat boots.
As he wandered into the common room, he noticed a small, furry bundle curled up under the table—one ear twitching at the sound of footsteps.
Fanny, the unofficial team mascot and possibly the world’s most indifferent mutt, lifted her head just enough to see if anyone had food. When she realized it was just Bucky, she gave a huff and settled back down, nose tucked under her paw.
“Morning to you too,” Bucky muttered, running a hand through his hair.
“Fanny’s mad at me,” Walker announced, not looking remotely guilty as he crunched another chip.
Bucky glanced at the dog, who was pointedly ignoring Walker. “What’d you do?”
Walker shrugged. “Didn’t give her any chips.”
Yelena, now leaning against the counter with her yogurt, snorted. “Good. Even the dog knows better than to eat that poison.”
Fanny gave a low, whiny grumble as if agreeing.
Bucky knelt down, rubbing behind Fanny’s ears, and the dog’s tail gave a few half-hearted thumps. “You spoil her too much,” he said over his shoulder to Yelena.
“She deserves it,” she replied with a shrug.
Walker looked unimpressed. “Any you named her Fanny? Doesn’t exactly sound threatening.”
Yelena narrowed her eyes. “She doesn’t need to be threatening. She’s adorable. Something you wouldn’t understand.”
Fanny, hearing the word “adorable,” perked up, looking between the two as if weighing her options. Eventually, she shuffled closer to Bucky, resting her head on the soldier’s knee.
Bucky gave her a small smile, scratching just under her chin. “See? She’s got taste.”
Yelena grinned. “She always picks the least annoying person in the room. That’s why she likes me the most.”
Walker made a face. “She likes you because you feed her half your breakfast.”
Bucky tried not to laugh, but it slipped out anyway—a low, rough chuckle that made Fanny’s ears perk up again. Yelena’s eyes flickered with something like satisfaction.
Val entered the room then, eyebrows raised. “Why does it sound like a petting zoo in here?”
“Blame Yelena,” Walker said immediately.
Yelena gave him a pointed look. “Fanny is perfect. You’re the problem.”
Val glanced at the dog, then at Bucky, who was still absently petting her. “If I start finding dog hair on classified documents again, the mutt’s getting a bath.”
Bucky looked down at Fanny, who didn’t seem remotely concerned. “Good luck with that.”
Fanny yawned, the kind that showed all her teeth, then flopped over dramatically onto her back, exposing her belly. Yelena immediately dropped to the floor to give him a belly rub, cooing in Russian about how brave and strong she was.
Walker just shook his head. “We’re supposed to be the most dangerous team in the world, and you’re all babying a dog.”
Bucky gave Bob one last scratch before standing up. “Sometimes dangerous people need something small to take care of. Keeps them human.”
Walker didn’t have a response to that, just kept eating his chips.
Val, seemingly satisfied that nothing was on fire, headed back to her office, muttering something about “emotional support dogs and assassins.”
Bucky was just about to make himself some coffee when a new person entered. Disheveled hair, and wearing only one sock.
“Hey,” Bob mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… is there a reason Yelena’s yelling about chips?”
Yelena pointed dramatically at Walker. “Yes! He bought the wrong kind. Salt and vinegar. You tell him!”
Bob looked genuinely perplexed. “What’s wrong with salt and vinegar?”
Walker smirked, holding up the almost-empty bag. “See? Bobby’s got taste.”
Yelena groaned. “You two are hopeless. Bucky, back me up here.”
Bucky sipped his black coffee, shaking his head. “Not getting involved.”
Bob wandered over to the table, still looking like he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten there. He glanced at the chip bag, then at Bucky. “Did I… interrupt something important?”
Bucky couldn’t help the small, tired smile. “Nah. Just Yelena’s morning meltdown.”
Bob nodded like that made perfect sense, then sat down and rubbed his eyes. “I was dreaming about the Void again,” he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else.
The room went still for a moment. Bucky exchanged a quick look with Yelena, who suddenly seemed a lot less interested in snack politics.
“You good?” Bucky asked, keeping his tone casual.
Bob hesitated, then forced a smile. “Yeah. Just… loud dreams, you know?”
Yelena, now distracted from her chip vendetta, pulled a granola bar from her pocket and tossed it to Bob. He caught it easily. “Thanks.”
“Eat something real,” Yelena muttered, clearly pretending not to care too much.
Bob unwrapped the granola bar carefully, like it might break. “Hey, Bucky,” he said after a minute. “Have you… talked to Sam yet?”
Yelena shot him a glance, then looked away pointedly, clearly pretending not to listen.
Bucky sighed. “Not yet.”
“You should,” Bob said, completely sincere in that way only he could be. “You know… before it gets harder.”
“Yeah,” Bucky muttered, not meeting his eyes. “I know.”
For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Walker finished the chips, wiped his hands on his pants, and looked around. “So… are we having breakfast, or are we just arguing about it?”
Bob looked at the crumpled bag, then at Bucky. “You think we have waffles?”
“Probably the frozen kind,” Bucky replied.
“That’s fine,” Bob said with a smile. “I’ll take it.”
Yelena stretched and pushed herself up from the floor. “If there are waffles, you better not ruin them with vinegar.”
Walker raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not a monster.”
"Yeah, but you're as ugly as one"
As the group made their way toward the dinning room, Bob fell into step beside Bucky, his expression soft. “It’s okay to be mad at him, you know,” he said quietly.
Bucky glanced over, not sure if he wanted to argue or just agree. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
Bob smiled faintly. “But it’s also okay to miss him.”
"I don't miss him..." Bucky mutters. It was a blatant lie. And Bob knew it. And Yelena knew it. Even Walker knew it. Everyone knew it. The only one who didn't seem to know was Sam.