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Of course he’s having nightmares. It’s the same thing every night; his time as the Winter Soldier. He knows it’s his subconscious trying to make him feel guilty - and it is, he does - but now it’s getting a bit repetitive.

Admitting defeat and resigning to his fate of another sleepless night, he makes his way to the kitchen, intending on grabbing some of Stevie’s Super Soldier yoghurt - patent pending, according to the SI legal team (read: Tony Stark). When he asked why Stevie even knew how to make yoghurt, all he got was a “we all have our hobbies” and a, quite frankly, terrifying look from Natasha as she sharpened her extensive knife collection.


Being lost in thought, Bucky neglected to realise he had entered the kitchen. The kitchen that is currently occupied by the resident genius and something that he’s sure was once toast, but is more likened to coal at this point.

“That’s a butter knife.”

“Do you know how painful it is to be stabbed by one of these?”

Bucky knows replying truthfully will result in an awkward silence that he doesn’t need, so instead he tries to subtly change the subject.

“So, uh, what are ya doing? Here? Up?”

Well, this is a train-wreck; he should know, he’s caused several.

Tony doesn’t look up from his coal, “PTSD does fuck-all for maintaining anything resembling a sleep schedule. You?”

“Nightmares.” He answers immediately, surprised at the ease in which he gave up the information.

Bucky watches the genius curiously as his expression softens.

“I have an idea,” he says as he ditches his coal in the bin, and heads to the freezer. “Get out a couple bowls and spoons, will you?”

Bucky nods as he moves to follow the instructions, listening as Tony shuffles around on the other side of the kitchen. When he has everything, he turns to see Tony setting a tub on the counter. He opens his mouth to ask what it is when Tony beats him to it.

“It’s gelato. Imported straight from Italy, so you know it’s good,” he explains as he drags the bowls over, scooping a good amount into each. After returning the tub to the freezer, he pushes a bowl towards Bucky.

By the way he’s staring, Bucky knows he’s expecting some sort of reaction. Going against all his instincts telling him to not touch the unknown substance in front of him, he gingerly picks up the spoon and tastes the goop resting on it.

Oh. Oh, wow.

“This is amazing,” not even bothering to hide his expression of awe.

“I know, right?” Tony answers with a smug smile. “The Italians got many things right. This is one,” his smile turning into a smirk, “I’m another.”

As Bucky smirks back, he thinks that maybe this will be a night worth repeating.