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The drink machine started up, humming and clicking. Without looking, I threw a mug under it as my other hand sifted through all the neatly labelled jars. At the first fruity sounding tea bag, I tossed it into the mug as Eve fill it with hot water. Too much for what I had in mind.

"Why didn't you put one of the damn teacups under the spout if you wanted one sip of tea?"

Bucky watched the whole time, eyes never leaving me. His body language did nothing but say that he was probably hiding something. Shoulders all hunched. Eyes periodically darted down to what I guess to be his hands.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I glanced at the windows. The angle didn't let me see what was in his hands. The mirrored finish of the ceiling lights was also a no. Nor was the barely there reflection off the stone of the fireplace.

We didn't polish everything to see fine details. We were mostly concerned with spotting human sized shapes.

"What are you making? Tea flavoured syrup?"

"Maybe," I grinned, dropping the fifth cube of sugar into the bit of browning water and then eyeing a sixth cube while stirring everything.

"Urgh, and here I was hoping you'd make a proper cup of tea."

"Just keep hoping. Just keep hoping. Just keep hoping, hoping, hoping."

"You're completely butchering – It hasn't even been six minutes!"

"Meh, it's dark enough," I goaded, walking into the fridge for the milk and three PROs.

Three instead of two PROs ever since a new routine popped up between us.

I tossed them over Bucky's way. But unlike all the other times he effortlessly caught them out of the air without so much as a glance, the PROs were caught with his cybernetic. Something was terribly wrong here.

"...Bucky?"

"What are you doing? You're drowning it in milk. Val! Why!?!"

A squelch sounded in the silence. Juice and pulp splattered across Bucky's face. It dripped down his arm, hair and clothes. It got everywhere.

'What the hell's going on with him?' I wondered, taking a drink of tea.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"I-I.... Uhh..." Bucky half panicked. Somehow curled into himself more than he already was.

"She means the tea," I provided.

"That's not tea! None of that is tea! It's mildly cold milk with tea flavoured syrup!"

"She may or may not be passionate about tea. I'm not entirely sure why...."

"Stop calling that tea!!! It's not tea!!!!!"

"...Ow."

My feet shuffled the little step to the middle of the kitchen walkway. Just enough room to not get door whacked in the leg again.

"You really should let me get working on your arm, Bucky."

"It's fine. I can live with – stop that," he half yelped, looking down at his lap. "No, no. Don't. Let go of...."

His bright blue eyes slowly glanced up at me, very much like how a kid caught red handed would.

"I can – stop nipping –ummm.... I can explain."

'Why do I have a sinking feeling this is why Eve woke me...?'

At six in the fucking morning.

With a head tilt for him to continue, I stuffed the rest of breakfast into my mouth and washed it down with tea. Seemed that my meal time was over and cold toast was meh. So was cold tea.

"I –"

"I can practically hear you calling it tea in your little head. It's not tea!!" Eve screamed over Bucky.

And if the topic wasn't so batshit stupid, Bucky would have probably reacted to the promise of murder and blood in her voice.... Probably. More than likely. Definitely.

A few seconds of silence passed between us before he spoke up again. "I... I found him while I was running with Ixie and Zephyr."

He carefully held up a little fluff ball cradled in his hand. The fluff of brown and white was quite viciously gnawing at his fingers. A flying squirrel. He found a flying squirrel at six in the fucking morning.

"His wing's torn... and I tried to glue his wing back together...."

"You.... Glue?" I managed to get out through a mouthful of toast and butter, ignoring the cupboard doors waving about wildly around me.

"Like you did with my leg. And I... glued my fingers to him.... I don't want to hurt him. I can't risk using a knife when he's struggling so much. He screams every time the glue is moved.... I-I don't know how to fix this."

My fingers tugged down my shirt. It should cover my ass. I sure hoped it did. The hem fell a couple inches below my ass. So it should cover my ass, right? Right? But him sitting down below floor level didn't help, at all.

Bucky slapping his face with a flying squirrel glued to his hand was not, in any way, going to turn out well, for anybody.

Those beautiful blue eyes did a little bounce before they dropped to the squirrel gnawing away at his fingers. He couldn't do much about it. He had no trust with his sabotaged cybernetic, and there's only so much his fingers could dodge when two of them were glued to the attacker.

'Guess this shirt isn't long enough.... Shit.'

Really didn't need to add to all the stress happening in this little area of the room. So much stress. The flying squirrel was stressed. Bucky was stressed. Both very stressed. Could feel it practically infecting the air around them.

'...This is fucking why Eve woke me up.... What the actual flying fuck? Please tell me I'm still sleeping. This has to be a dream.'

Didn't feel like a dream. The semi numbness of a dream was in my body. Bones fucking hurt. Not a dream.

This wasn't a dream....

So, I reached out, my fingers crossing his field of view before tucking his hair behind his ear. Bits of wet and sticky hair from the PRO juice. Plucked out the twig while I was at it.

Bucky's head tilted against my hand even when he refused to look anywhere but at the fluff ball attacking him. A held breath escaped from his nose.

A first aid kit was half hidden by his leg. He probably swiped it from the makeshift table surface when he spotted me. A knocked over bottle of super glue was partially under his knee. At least the bottle was closed. One less problem to deal with.

I wouldn't know where to begin if he glued his ass to his pant and the pants to the cushion.... Which could end up with burns depending on his sweatpants. That wasn't a bottle of cotton safe superglue.

"Hang on. I got an idea to calm him some..." I offered. "...Maybe."

He gave a little nod. "Okay."

"Try to keep him from chewing on you. If he breaks skin, not good."

Flying squirrel versus enhanced skin. Wonder which would win out?

Hopefully Bucky.

Please be Bucky.

Did not want to find out the results of rabies verses Bucky.

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Author's Note:

If you enjoyed this part, please consider leaving a vote. They're very much appreciated. ^^

And a big thank you to TinselA/Bunny Carrot (https://www.fanfiction.net/u/7591081/) and the Anonymous Fifth Beta for Beta-ing this chapter.