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“Oh, for fucks sake.” Bucky grunted. It was the third time that same day that he had managed to completely disconnect a door from its hinges. Living his life in the Avengers HQ was more of a task than anything. Facing the daily challenge of avoiding the human race was usually one, but when shit hit the fan, they were always by his side. 'Shit hitting the fan' meaning fixing furniture that he had accidentally destroyed.

Taking the sniffer dogs for walks, or even feeding Tony’s goddamned hamster took up a third of his mental ability to think. Organizing his thoughts was difficult, let alone remembering where all the poop bags and hamster food was.

The worst factor was, of course, not completely trashing the place. Doing everyday things like opening his bedroom door to opening a cabinet, he really and truly struggled. He hadn’t fully come to terms with the idea of being gentle, and that usually put a lot at stake (like ripping off Steve’s apartment door when he wanted to find out where the staff meeting was).

Bucky didn’t find it funny whatsoever, although everyone else did. Tony usually watched the whole thing from behind something tall (Thor, when he’s visiting) or something that can protect him (apparently Pietro was great at this. Taking a dozen bullets for an old man and a kid showed this perfectly) just in case Bucky had the effort and strength to launch the broken door at the playboy. It usually ended in tears when this happened. Ugly, wet, baby tears.

“What now? The cabinet door? The fridge door? I swear, if you’ve broken the fridge, Tony will have your head on a-“Clint paused and pressed his lips together in a thin line.

“Don’t you say a word, Barton.” Bucky’s eyes narrowed and he frowned at the now-detached washing machine lid. “I barely even touched it…the thing practically flew off.”

“Yeah, it flew off because you were gripping it so hard that it had nowhere else to go. How does this keep happening?” Clint barked out in laughter after retaining it for ten seconds too long.

“Stop laughing.”

“Well put the door down!”

“I can’t just leave it open, that isn’t how washing machines work!”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to rip it off of its hinges!” Bucky’s stress levels began to rise, but Clint continued to cackle from behind the kitchen counter. What if he ended up tearing off his first child’s arm? He was surprised that he hadn’t broken the dogs yet, or even worse, the hamster.

“Barnes, do not fret. You will not tear off your first child’s arm. And secondly, you cannot break a dog. Just use your right arm, then you won't have to be cautious all of the time.” The Scarlet Witch wandered into the room with Natasha directly behind her.

“Jesus, Bucky. Stop crying, you look like a rat.” Natasha said blankly. Two types of people.

“Clint keeps laughing because I can’t control my arm strength.” He blubbered, and Natasha blew up her cheeks, retaining a laugh. Wanda saw this and she tutted. She walked over to Bucky and placed a ring-cladded hand onto his shoulder.

“Stop making fun of the poor man, he can't help it.” But when Wanda caught a glimpse of the decapitated washing machine door, she swallowed a laugh and viciously blinked away the extra moisture developing in her eyes.

“Well, I’m going shooting. Who’s in?” Natasha broke the silence and Clint raised his hand. Wanda recoiled her hand from the soldiers shoulder and her bangles clanked against each other as she raised her hand too. “Nice. C’mon then, guys. Bucky, you wanna
expel some of that anger?”

“I’m not angry, I’m stressed.”