Bucky watched quietly as the others argued. He sensed a rift; those who cared for Stark and those who were on the fence, him included, had been at odds since he arrived. But every time there was barb on his tongue directed to the younger child he tried to hold back. Except for when he insulted Natasha. That was just a rush of pure adrenaline and protectiveness. He remembered him on the roof, cold and alone in the throes of a nightmare with bruises littering his body. 

     He swiftly exited the growing argument, shaking his head on his way to the bathroom. His socked feet padded on the wooden steps. His stump of an arm twinged in phantom pain. Bucky grimaced, digging his nails into his palm to calm himself down. It was an accident, he thought. The asshole didn't mean to do it. He was falling and I was stupid enough to catch him. But I wasn't going to let him crack his skull open. A possible concussion probably isn't good for a genius.

     Bucky gripped his shoulder tightly to try to relieve the pain. Years after losing his arm he still gets the occasional phantom pains from his amputation. It comes with the territory, he thought bitterly. He frowned at his shoulder. It would be quicker if he went to the bathroom by the guest room than Steve's old room. His shoulder was really killing him. Bucky turned the door handle and swung it open. His eyes widened at the sound of a surprised squeak. 

     Tony Stark was extremely small. That was the first thought. It was followed by, What's wrong with his chest? Tony clumsily covered it with a towel, his pajama pants bunching around his ankles when he curled up on the tiles floor. He pressed himself against the bathtub and the sink, seemingly trying to melt into the ceramic. 

     "W-What do you want, Barnes?" he asked.

     Bucky shook his head. "It can wait. Sorry." 

     Bucky closed the door with the faulty lock quietly. He sat on the floor by the door, head in his hands and his heart pounding in his chest. The bruises that he saw on the rooftop were still there. They were lighter and a sickly yellow, but there nonetheless. And he had scars. Like a knife was dragged across his skin around his heart. Like his heart was going to be taken from him. Stark emerged from the bathroom with his head down and water dripping onto his shoulders. His eyes shifted away from Bucky. "It's free. Go ahead."

     "Stark, are you in pain? Your chest-"

     He stiffened, hands flying to cover the ribbed scars even though he had a long grey shirt on. He glared over his shoulder. "Learn to knock, idiot."

     Bucky watched him trudge into the guest room they were using. He stepped into the foggy bathroom, shook out two pills, and swallowed them dry. He pushed his hair out of his face, sweat keeping it out the way. Bucky sighed when the dull throbbing stopped. He clambered down the stairs in search of his friends. They were done arguing, but he could feel that it wasn't over. They must've called for a truce. Bucky debated telling them what he'd seen, deciding to keep it to himself as he sat beside Bruce. Stark's reaction said those scars were private. He had been so deep in thought that he hadn't been paying attention to his surroundings. The only time it happened was at Steve's house. 

     "I'm going to shower," Natasha said. "You all should too. You stink."

     Bruce yawned, rubbing his eyes and almost sending his glasses flying off his face. Bucky raised an eyebrow when he fell on his good shoulder but didn't protest. He caught Steve's eye. "Stevie, you all right?"

     Steve jerked, flashing him a sheepish smile as he rubbed his neck. "Yeah. Just a little tired I guess. Always happens after playing on the ice."

     Clint leaned on Thor's back, chuckling when the guy's whole body rumbled with his snores. "It's like a massage chair, guys," he teased. 

     Bucky hummed, adjusting Bruce on his shoulder. "Did you guys come to an agreement or something? What were you even arguing about?"

    "Just to argue." Steve frowned at Clint. "Kidding," Clint chirped. "I don't even know at this point. It's just easy to argue about Stark. The world feels right with a little bit of bitching toward him."

     Bucky rolled his eyes. "But you both know why he's here, right? Because I'm pretty sure it has to do with her whole investigation-"

     "Of course."

     "-and whatever made Bruce bring him to my house." Bucky hated to be the voice of reason. He hated not being on Steve's side about this. "Steve, remember when we found him on the roof?"

     "How could I forget? I was worried he was going to get sick."

     "Clint and I saw something." Clint stared holes into the side of his head. "Bruises. All over his torso and neck. Steve, Nat has a reason for her investigation and the least we can do is be nice to him. I know you don't like him, I don't either, but we could try to treat him like anyone else. Treat him like the little guy."

     Steve's brow was furrowed and he was raking his teeth across his bottom lip. His blue eyes turned hard, the gears in his brain letting Bucky's words sink in. Steve looked up at him. "Are you saying he was hit at home?"

      Clint climbed off of Thor. His eyes flicked to the steps, to the shower where Natasha was washing her bright hair. Clint scratched behind his hearing aid. "We're not saying anything. If you want to know, ask Tash."

     Bucky knitted his brow. "What are you talking about?" Bruce turned his face into his shoulder, mumbling something math-related under his breath. "Does she know something?"

     "She doesn't know anything for sure. It's only a hunch. Let's just drop it and go to bed. It's late." Clint brushed his jeans off then headed upstairs. 

     Steve ran a hand over his face. "You still don't like him, right Buck?"

     "Why? Do you?"

     Steve lowered his head. "I don't know."

     Bucky shook Bruce. The boy blinked blearily at him. "Get on my back, Brucie. I'll take you upstairs." Bucky smirked at Steve. "Have fun with Thor. And Steve?" He turned with Bruce on his back. "If it makes you feel better, I don't think any of us know how to feel about him. But for everyone's sake, we should figure it out soon. I don't want..." Bucky shook his head. "Night, Steve."

     "Night." 

     Bucky carried Bruce upstairs with a stumbling step. Trying to carry someone with one hand sucked. Bruce did his best to keep his legs on Bucky's hips and his arms around his neck, but he was tired and slipped often. Bucky carefully helped Bruce slide off of his back when they entered the guest room. He glanced at Stark's back with a frown. Bucky ran a hand through his hair with exasperation. Bucky furrowed his brow at the sound of dragging, a syncopated thump following a shuffle. The door swung open after Steve's second kick. Clint held back a snort at the sight of Thor on his back.

      Steve, red in the face and panting, managed to growl, "Don't even start, Barton. I swear I'm going to wrap the string of your bow around your neck."

     Clint held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. "I'm not saying anything, Captain. Not," he cackled, "a word."

     Natasha sashayed past him without a glance. "Nice pet, Steve."

     Steve huffed, flipping Thor onto his sleeping bag with a grunt. The Norwegian snored before turning on his side. Steve wiped the sweat off of his brow. "I hate all of you." Bucky flicked his eyes to Stark. "Especially you, Clint."

     Clint rolled his eyes with a smile. "You could never hate me, Stevo. I bring the entertainment."

     Steve scowled with no real bite. Bucky wiggled into his sleeping bag beside his friend, leeching off his unnatural warmth. He sighed when Steve started to untangle the knots in his hair. They always managed to pop up even after he brushed it. He pressed a hand to his shoulder as he leaned into Steve's hand. Steve chuckled. "Goodnight."

      "Night, Captain," Clint teased.

     "Goodnight, Steve," Natasha replied.

      Thor snored and Bruce turned to face Natasha. Bucky looked at Stark's back. "Night," he mumbled. Bucky let Steve's ministrations lull him into a peaceful sleep.

-----

     Bucky opened his eyes to find Steve's hand in his face. He rolled his eyes, pushing the limb away with a grunt. Steve's face pinched before he woke in slow increments. Bucky furrowed his brow at Stark's empty spot. Steve draped himself over Bucky's shoulders. "Where is he?"

     Steve blinked hard to get his bearings. "Shit. Guess he woke up first."

     Bucky looked at the door. "What if he left?"

     "He wouldn't," Steve said, slow. His blue eyes were glued to the folded sleeping bag with unease. "He didn't leave, Buck."

     Bucky shrugged Steve off gently and started for the door. He hesitated at the top of the stairs, the sound of pans and the smell of food enveloping him warmly. He grimaced at the lack of support his stump gave as he hurried down the steps. Sarah looked up when he walked in. She looks healthier today, he thought. She cocked her spatula on her hip. "I see someone's excited about breakfast," she teased. 

      "Where do you want these, uh, Sarah?" Bucky looked over the short woman to find the owner of that voice. He relaxed slightly at the sight of Stark, an apron tied around his waist and flour dotting his cheeks. His usually pale skin was regaining some of it's tan. He looked better as well. There were still the dark circles under his eyes and his cheekbones were visible, but he looked more like the Stark he'd seen in the papers. Maybe the Rogers's house had a way of healing people. 

     "Anywhere you can fit on the counter."

     Stark kept his head down as he walked past Bucky, gripping the dry ingredients closer to his body. Bucky leaned against the wall casually as he watched. Stark was clumsy in the kitchen, anger coloring his cheeks often and apologies tumbling from his lips every time Sarah turned to help, but he looked like he was enjoying himself. Bucky had no clue what Sarah was making all this food for then he realized they're friends with Thor. Bucky looked down when Stark bumped into him. 

     The fifteen-year-old blushed fiercely. "Sorry, Barnes," he muttered. He grabbed the bowl he needed and turned away before Bucky could respond. He raised his hand in an effort to grab the white apron around his waist. 

     Sarah dropped the spoon she was using to mix the dry and wet ingredients. Her blue eyes widen sharply. "Bucky! What happened to your arm?" Bucky frowned at his shoulder. Stark's brown eyes shine sadly, lower lip beginning to tremble. He scrambled to catch the bowl he almost dropped. Bucky looked back at Sarah, letting her fret over him. "Where's your prosthetic?"

     Bucky kept his eyes off of Stark. "It broke."

     Sarah knitted her brow. "What do you mean? How'd you break a metal arm? I thought I told you to be careful, Bucky."

     "I know but-"

     "I did it," Stark said. Sarah almost plowed on but she managed to hear the low mumble. Stark shuffled his feet, hands balling in the apron. "I-I tripped on the stairs and he caught me. We fell and, um, that happened." Sarah took a step forward and Stark flinched. "I-I'm so sorry. It was an accident. I really didn't mean it. I understand if you want me to leave," he mumbled. 

     Sarah pressed a hand to her mouth to straighten out her thoughts. She pressed a hand to Bucky's chest with her eyes on Stark. "An accident?" She nodded curtly at Stark's confirmation. "I suppose accidents happen. Just be more careful in the future, okay?"

     Stark crumpled against the wall, eyes shining with tears. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you."

     Sarah returned to the stove. "For what?"

     Bucky watched something raw inhabit Stark's face for a second before it was gone. He stared at his socks. "For letting me stay. I would've kicked me out if our roles were reversed."

     "Well, it's a good thing they aren't." Sarah smiled at the two of them. "Now hurry up with those bowls, boy. They come down hungry."

     Bucky found an elusive hair tie on his wrist and tied his hair up. "Anything I can do to help?"

     "Set the table," she replied. 

     Bucky set off to work, balancing cups and plates on a platter before heading toward the small dining room. It was larger than his and Steve's and it fit all of them, but it was a tight squeeze. Especially with Thor's bulk. Bucky had all the plates and cups down and was turning to scrounge up some silverware when Stark emerged from the kitchen. He jerked his chin to the side. "Sarah asked me to help, though it seems you've got it handled."

     "Nah, I need the silverware that you're holding."

     Stark hesitated before setting down a fork, spoon, and knife at each place setting. He went completely still when Bucky grabbed his wrist. "Not like that. Let me show you." He grabbed a fork. "The fork goes on the napkin like so. Then the knife and spoon go on the opposite side." He set down the utensils. "Perfect."

     Stark mimicked his movements and corrected his mistake. He shuffled awkwardly beside Bucky. Bucky played with the edge of the table cloth until he was ready to speak. "I'm sorry about your arm."

     "You've said that," Bucky deadpanned. 

     "I know, but I still feel gross."

     "It's called guilt, kid."

     Stark whirled on him, brown eyes narrowed. "I know what it is," he replied indignantly. "How do I fix it?"

     Bucky raised an eyebrow at the sound of thundering footsteps. He gazed down at Stark. "You could try not being an asshole. We all want to enjoy our break."

    Stark shifted his eyes away. "I know and I'm sorry about that too, but it's not like I do it unprovoked." He glares at Bucky. "You guys start it too. I know you don't like me and I'm not going to roll over and take the punches. Plus, being an asshole is natural for me."

     Bucky stared at him blankly. He held out a hand that Stark kept a wary eye on. "Then I propose a truce. At least until break is over." He narrowed his eyes. "I'll get Steve and Clint to do it too. What do you say?"

     Stark held off for a moment before shaking his hand in a firm grip. He steeled his brown eyes. "Deal. It's a truce, Barnes."

     Bucky pulled him closer, eliciting a short yelp from the smaller boy. "You have to call me Bucky. Since there is temporary peace between us."

     "Then...Tony. Due to the truce."

     "All right, Tony," Bucky responded. Tony gave him a small smile that brightened his entire face. Bucky kept himself from tilting his head. He clapped Tony on the shoulder. "Let's eat some breakfast."