I don't even know, I don't.

Steve had once listened to a raging-drunk Thor ramble on and on about how his father had once told him Mjölnir was a unique object, both a tool to create and a weapon to destroy. It was a constant irony that the weapon carried in itself, Thor going on at length about how destroying could in fact be building, or something like that. Steve had wandered out of the room at some point, leaving Thor's philosophic slurs to Barton's more sympathetic ears, rendered so by the earbuds blaring rock into them. But Thor didn't need to know that.

Now, Steve understood a little more. His own shield was a tool with which to defend, but he had been using it rather more offensively lately, it seemed. Offense in the name of defense, he could see Thor's point now. He could see it most clearly in the sunlight when it glinted off of Bucky's bionic left arm, in the metallic addition to his friend that had both grievously wounded him, and wrenched him from the bottom of a river.

Sometimes he'd see Bucky clenching that semi-robotic fist, grimacing, as if it were fighting him, fighting how he was trying to change the work it did, the missions it completed. Sometimes he wondered if it had a programming all its own, and the thought chilled him. And then Bucky would look up and smile weakly at something one of the others said, and the moment would pass, the fist relaxing and laying flat and obedient on the arm of Bucky's chair.

Sam had described the concept of PTSD in detail to Steve after another meeting attended at the VA, but the Captain just wasn't sure there was a strong enough term for what had been done to Bucky's psyche. Manipulated like playdough, sent out to kill and return like a trained hunting dog. Steve wasn't sure there was a therapy program in the world that could help, so he fell back on what he could: friendship, the bond between the two of them.

There were nightmares that woke the entire Avengers tower sometimes, where Steve had relocated after D.C. proved a little too busy for him; Bucky had shown up weeks after the fact, and Steve hadn't questioned how he'd known how to find him. Tony Stark had been remarkably helpful in that area, prescribing breathing exercises and little tricks to avoid the garish dreams, his own nightmares of New York still plaguing him occasionally. The bastard still couldn't help himself from announcing "Winter is coming" every time Bucky entered a room, and it earned him a solid punch each time, but camaraderie developed with the bruises.

Everyone grew used to the metal arm, too, particularly when one day, Thor arrived for a mission briefing, his typical uniform wrapping his biceps in silver armor. He let out a little Aha! of joy when he arrived in the Avengers tower meeting room, marching straight across the room to Barnes, to whom he hadn't been introduced, shoving his arm alongside the bionic one and declaring "Twins". Even Romanoff cracked a smile at that one, and the unnatural limb never seemed quite as intimidating after that.

Steve had noticed Bucky went to great lengths to keep it covered as often as possible, favoring a heavy glove and long sleeves to hide the metal away. But one day, entering Bucky's room to ask if he wanted to spar, he came across his friend polishing the arm. It had to be kept up, Bucky murmured uncomfortably, or it would tarnish and rust, making it difficult to do anything. Steve only noticed that the blood-red star that had labeled the upper bicep before was now white, an imitation of the large white star that adorned his own uniform. It made him smile.

Thor proved a valuable companion, his eternally un-tempered enthusiasm for Earth's foods and technologies making it infinitely more enjoyable for Steve and Bucky to adjust themselves.

Thai food was one such excursion; Steve had been meaning to strike it off his list time and time again, always pulled away for a mission or a briefing, but Hawkeye had thrown a takeout menu on the table one night, telling them all to pick something and he'd call it in.

Thor of course ordered one of everything, demanding the "most powerful" level of spice on it all, leaving Hawkeye immeasurably glad this was going on SHIELD's bill. Natasha opted for some basic noodles, Steve copying her – he wasn't sure he was ready for some of the stuff the menu described. Tony Stark whined loudly about wanting Shuwarma, but settled for some coconut and curry concoction. Bruce stared at the vegetarian section for a long time, Stark laughing at him the entire time – he said vegetarianism wouldn't help the Hulk, that hankering for meat would sooner or later erupt in a showing of the big green guy, but Bruce warded him off with a good-natured punch.

Bucky stared at the laminated brochure for a long, long time, silver fingers trailing along each word as he mouthed to himself, making Steve wonder if he had to familiarize himself with the latin alphabet again – he doubted the Winter Soldier wrote letters, but they'd be in Cyrillic, in any case. He was just moving forward to help when his friend broke into a wide grin, finding what he was looking for, and rattled off something that sounded like "pad see you", in an impressively-accurate accent, if Natasha's look of approval was anything to go by.

Stark scarfed his meal in record time, sauntering into the den to go a few rounds with Hawkeye on a video game, saying he felt like "blowing something up". What they didn't know was he'd turned the surround sound on, cranking the volume, and when something fictional actually did blow up, in all its audible glory, the resulting involuntary flinch from Bucky's left arm sent a mug flying a record distance to shatter across the far wall.

The former soldier of winter winced, pulling the arm in to his torso and muttering his apologies, but Thor, after a moment of slackjawed, mute amazement, boomed out a laugh and slapped Bucky on the back, saying that was exactly how to do it in Asgard. He even volunteered to get Barnes a refill himself, and Steve could finally let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

The metallic limb that had caused the mess picked up the shards of porcelain with the utmost care, contrasting deeply with the violent movement that had caused the mess. As Natasha had said once, Yes, they caused the messes, conflicts, international crises – but they were also the ones best suited to picking up the pieces and gluing it all back together.