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They're glad. It had been a long, hard journey, and sometimes it seemed like he was taking a step forward only to take two steps back. But now he's been evaluated by the few ex-SHIELD therapists that they still trust, and they say he's right as rain. If, you know, rain could suffer from PTSD and decades of brainwashing and dehumanization.
So really, the Avengers and company are glad that Bucky is doing so well. (They even had a poll to collect their opinions on the matter, run by Clint. Though it had been pointed out many times that the poll had no purpose and could be interpreted as mean spirited, Clint has insisted on its existence, citing something along the lines of “Captain America,” “the voice of the people,” and his “unquenchable thirst for democracy.”)
Neither Bucky nor Steve ever caught wind of the poll, so.
It must be said, though, that Bucky was a little bit strange. The Avengers were a forgiving group (not because of their personal dispositions, but more their personal histories) and would let many a thing slide. Honestly, after about the third time you wake up to find something like one of your teammates in your bathroom at 3 A.M. claiming yours has “better lighting” you start to build up a tolerance for these things.
Bucky's thing wasn't quite so dramatic. It wasn't even in effect all the time. It was just, he narrated everything.
Tony was the first to discover this, to everyone's delight, considering he was similarly afflicted.
“You know, Mr. President,” he says at the start of one movie night, “it's your turn to pick. Now, if you want to defer your choice to someone more versed in recent pop culture, it's perfectly-”
“Nah, I'll choose a movie.” Bucky interrupts. Loudly. He leans back against the couch and glances at the screen, which holds the list of movies Jarvis has thoughtfully provided. “Let's see, there's Inception, The Breakfast Club, The Mummy, The Others, The Godfather, 12 Angry Men, Taken, all six Star Wars movies at once - why is that an option? - E.T., The Grapes of Wrath, The Terminator, The-”
“Bucky-o,” Tony says when he pauses for a breath, “that's quite impressive for Tall, Dark, and Silent of the past few months, but you don't have to read the whole list. Just choose one.”
Bucky looks a little lost for a moment, then shrugs. “Terminator is good,” he says, then, ignoring someone's quiet grumble of of course he chose that he announces “I'm going to get some more water from the kitchen.” He turns to Steve. “You want some water?”
At Steve’s negative, he gets up and heads off to the communal kitchen. He returns just as the movie begins. “I'm back. Movie is starting.” he informs the room at large as he sits down.
All of them exchange a look (or, you know, looks), except for Steve and Bucky, but collectively decide not to comment.
This occasion, however, opens up their eyes. In the next few days, it becomes apparent just how much Bucky narrated. If somebody was doing something notable in front of you, you'd hear about it. If you passed something interesting, Bucky would inform you with a detailed description. If somebody asked him a question, he'd repeat it before answering.
It was a bit, as Clint said, like living life with subtitles on.
The strangest thing, though, was that it wasn't constant. It almost seemed that he flipped a coin before each interaction. It was this irregularity that caused it to be of such great interest to the rest of them.
Consequently, Tony was only scared half to death when Natasha appeared all of a sudden to him and Bruce in the lab. He's been expecting her for a while, though he possibly (foolishly) expects a bit of a warning.
“I don't think this is Hydra’s work.” She says without preamble.
“Barnes’ inability to shut the fuck up?” Bruce clarifies demurely.
She hums her assent.
“Unless it's it's a teenage rebellion thing.” Tony suggest. “You know, he couldn't voice his own thoughts as the Soldier, so now he's doing it as much as he can.” He does his best to affect a wistful sigh. “They grow up so fast.”
“I don't think so.” Bruce says. “They're not opinions, they're just facts. Relatively useless ones, at that.” Natasha seems to agree.
“The key to figuring it out is noticing the pattern.” She insists.
“That's easy enough. Jarvis, analyze and find the common factor in all of our Morgan Freeman-aspiring friend’s cases of narration.”
“It would seem, sir, that Captain Rogers has been present every time Sergeant Barnes has described his surroundings in excessive detail.”
Natasha narrows her eyes at Tony slightly. “I'm sure that's cheating.”
Tony shrugs.
So they mulled over they all mulled over this new information, after informing the rest of the team members in an official Avengers Minus Rogers and Barnes meeting.
“I bet you it's the age.” Clint says sagely. “Very recently he had a ton of memories restored to him. He's like the old ladies, you know, they always have so much to talk about because they've lived through so much. Maybe we should get him a cat.”
Tony sticks with his teenage rebellion theory, and though Natasha doesn't agree, she also doesn't voice another option. Bruce suggest that it's a coping method that Bucky uses in an attempt to re-humanize himself, and sadly that proposition gets less attention than the old lady one.
Thor doesn't see what the problem is, and so therefore says very little in that meeting.
It's Natasha who, later, decides that Steve’s input would be helpful. She mentions it after Bucky gets up from the couch, informing Steve that he's going to start on dinner in the kitchen, and that Natasha’s still there.
“He's quite talkative.” She says in a casual tone.
Steve grins as dopily as a national icon can, which turns out to be very dopey.
“I know. I'm so glad, you have no idea how unnatural the silence felt when I first got him back. I swear, I heard his voice more before that than during those first few months.”
She decides that's not hers to question, and asks “So he's always been like that?”
“Yep, that's Bucky. Talker, charmer, the whole lot.”
She's never known Mr. Helpful to be so unhelpful.
“I'm used to ex-assassins being less chatty.” She admits, trying to get him to say something more.
Steve looks dopey again. “He's recovering well.”
She hums, gives her excuses, and walks through the kitchen on her way out. Bucky smiles, waves his spatula in her general direction, but doesn't say a word.
She doesn't know what to make of it.
It all comes to head a few weeks later during another movie night. They've reached that point where they've watched a few movies and now they've put on one they've all seen many times as background noise.
Clint, who's taken his hearing aids out, signs to Natasha seriously, he was just a baby, why didn't Beru and Owen Lars raise Luke as their own son.
What catches Natasha’s interest is that Bucky reports Clint’s comment to Steve, who snorts gently from where his head is resting in Bucky's lap.
“Ok,” She says, sitting up and capturing the rooms attention. “How do you know ASL, and why do you report everything to Steve?”
The room is silent.
“Are you blushing?” Tony asks Bucky incredulously.
Steve starts laughing, and Bucky smacks him across his head. It looks like Tony is right, he is blushing. “Shut up, don't tell them.”
Steve ignores him, still laughing. “Wait, is that why you mentioned how “talkative” he is?” he asks Natasha. Then he points to Bruce. “And why you always watching him like a hawk when he's speaking?”
Steve doesn't wait for a response, just continues laughing beside an indignant Bucky.
“But why?” presses Tony once Steve calmed down a bit, but before he can answer Bucky pushes him off the couch and then follows him, presumably to stop him from answering by any means necessary.
After a few moments of grappling Bucky ends up on top, but now seems willing to share the answer. (Maybe because he knows his answer will be better than Steve’s, who knows.)
“Because,” he says, “before the serum helped this little guy,” he pats Steve on his arm which is caught under Bucky's knee, “Stevie was half blind and half deaf at the best of times. Someone had to make sure he was getting all the information he needed.”
The eye roll is practically audible. “I wasn't half blind or half deaf, honestly, he exaggerates so much…”
“Half blind and half deaf.” Bucky repeats firmly.
“So,” Bruce interjects, “you learned ASL?”
Bucky nodded. “it's a bit different from what you use,” he nods at Clint, “but I can get by.”
“And you developed the habit of narrating everything so he knew what was going on.”
Bucky shrugged.
“He never stopped.” Steve said from the floor. “Even with the Howling Commandos, he was always telling me ‘Jim is getting up now…’, honestly I've been living with this for so long I barely even hear it anymore-”
“Oh, you don't hear it?” Bucky grouses. “You don't hear it? Here I am, taking the time out of my day to inform your little punk ass about your life, and you don't hea-”
I liked the old lady theory better, Clint signs.