Chapter Text
Bob sits curled up on the couch in the Tower, half paying attention to the movie he was watching. Time had escaped him a while ago.
“Hey Bob?”
He startles out of his head when Bucky’s voice comes from directly behind him. He glances over his shoulder to find Bucky stepping back, an apologetic look on his face.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to…” he shifts nervously, turning away. Bob knows Bucky still moves like an assassin on occasion, completely silent, but he still manages to startle him from time to time. “I made dinner. Just some of that boxed macaroni and cheese you and Yelena like so much.”
They were the only two in the Tower at the moment, with John visiting his kid, Alexei and Yelena visiting Melina, and Ava off doing who knows what.
“Oh, thank you,” Bob gets up, letting his heart rate slow down a bit before he follows Bucky to the kitchen.
Bucky carefully splits the pot between two bowls. He gives the one with slightly more noodles to Bob. Bucky takes a bite, then makes a face. “Still not used to it tasting like this.”
“What do you mean?” Bob asks.
Bucky shrugs. “It tasted different in the thirties.”
“Really? Are there a lot of things like that?”
“What, aside from literally everything?” Bucky waves his hand around dismissively. “Bananas. Bananas taste different.”
Bob continues to question Bucky about what’s different now compared to when he grew up, which lasts them the entire meal and then some. Bob tries to load the dishwasher on his own, but Bucky insists on helping. He also takes his arm off and shoves it on the bottom rack.
“You need to stop doing that.”
“What? It’s the easiest way to clean it.” Bucky’s lips quirk up in a smile. “Unless you’d like to clean it by hand.”
“It just weirds me out when I go to put the dishes away and your freaky robot arm is in there!”
“Hey! It’s not freaky. It was a gift and should be treated with respect,” Bucky crosses his one arm.
“I don’t think the Wakandans would consider putting it in the dishwasher respectful,” Bob counters.
“Have you even met one?”
“Uhh… no?”
“Exactly,” Bucky gives Bob a gentle shove on the shoulder. “Maybe I’ll see if we can visit sometime. Shuri could get us a royal escort or something.”
“You know the Queen of Wakanda?” Bob’s voice fills with awe.
“Who do you think made the arm?” Bucky’s head tilts to the side. He then taps his temple. “She removed my programming too. I owe her a lot.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm. I can now talk about the space race without passing out,” Bucky jokes, but it goes over Bob’s head. “Sputnik was one of my trigger words. It would make me black out when I heard it.” He explains.
“Ah. Makes sense.” From what little Bob knew from seeing Bucky’s shame rooms, Hydra had contingencies to control him no matter what he tried.
“Be glad you didn’t know me then, Bob.” Bucky offers him a smile, but it’s not genuine.
“Oh, I definitely am,” Bob puts his hands up, chuckling nervously. “The Soldier is terrifying. To be honest, you’re terrifying sometimes too.”
Bucky glances away.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Bucky,” Bob tries.
Bucky just shakes his head. “I know. It’s fine.” He picks at the hem of his shirt for a few moments. “I’ll contact Shuri in the morning and see if we can visit. I’m sure Valentina will have to approve it and make it a whole thing, though.”
Bob rolls his eyes. “She definitely will.”
Bucky shrugs. “Do you want to do anything tonight? Or would you rather be left alone?”
“I have something I want to work on tonight, so alone.”
Bucky nods, looking a little confused. Then his eyes light up. “You’re not making me a birthday present, are you?
“What? No!” Bob turns away this time to hide the fact that Bucky got it completely right. “It’s not even for another month, why would I be working on one already?”
“Sorry, sorry. No present? Damn. You’d think turning one hundred and eleven would be cause for celebration.”
“I bet Alexei is planning to tell you his best Red Guardian stories.”
Bucky’s face goes pale and his eyes widen. “I think I’d rather not have a birthday than have to sit through that.”
“So you better not go snooping around or I’ll tell him that’s what you want.” Bob crosses his arms.
Bucky visibly mulls over his options. “Alright. I promise I won’t do any snooping. See you in the morning, Bob.”
“Good night, Bucky,” Bob says, and they go their separate ways. On his way back to his room, time slips away from Bob again.
—————————————————-
Bucky enters his room, and a chill washes over him. He gasps and goes still, mind flashing back to being in cryo. The world shifts around him.
He kicks at the people dragging him by his arms. This isn’t real. It feels real but he knows it isn’t. The one on his left curses and backhands him. Bucky turns to glare at him, but his attention is caught by his arm. It’s silver. It’s not vibranium.
Goddamn it Bob when did you go Void—
But the Void has never changed their appearances. Something was definitely wrong. His hair feels longer. His left shoulder was pulled down, the titanium arm too heavy to be comfortable.
“Where are they?” Bucky hears himself ask through his growing daze. There’s a mask on his face again. It must be pumping some sort of drug into his body.
“Where are who?” The men dragging him abruptly stop, inspecting him like he’s a malfunctioning machine.
Bucky opens his mouth to reply, then snaps it shut.
Their faces flicker in his mind, but the names elude him. He shouldn’t give their names anyway. “Ghost. And Guardian. Widow. Captain. Sunshine.”
The agents freeze at the second to last one. Bucky can’t grasp why.
“What should we do?”
“Put it back in the ice so it doesn’t malfunction more. And tell Pierce. He can deal with it tomorrow when it gets prepped for the mission.”
“No—“ Bucky protests, which is met with a baton to the side of his head. His vision swims, thoughts making no sense. This isn’t right. He was in the Tower moments ago.
He’s shoved into the cryo-chamber. His fight dies as the cold seeps into his bones. Buck… B… the Soldier stills, letting the ice force away its thoughts. Its mind goes numb.
———————————————————-
Bob comes back to himself, glancing around the Tower. But it’s not his Tower. He doesn’t know how he knows that, but something in him tells him that this place isn’t right. “Bucky?” He calls, and gets no response. “Hello?”
Still nothing, until, “I believe this is a restricted area.” A British voice says from seemingly nowhere.
Bob jumps, searching desperately for the source of the voice. “Who are you? Where are you?”
“I am JARVIS. I am the Tower’s artificial intelligence.” JARVIS explains. “Now if that answers your questions, you’ll find Mister Stark and Captain Rogers are on their way to question you, so please do not be startled.”
“Wait wait wait. Mister Stark and Captain Rogers?” Bob repeats, not thinking he heard right.
“That is correct.”
“As in… Iron Man and Captain America?”
“That is also correct.”
Bob knew that wasn’t possible. They were both dead. That wouldn't be possible unless... “Where am I? Better question, when am I?”
“You are in the Avengers Tower. The current date is June 23rd, 2012.”
“Shit.”