Hello, im back with another one for all you Stucky fans! This is a sequel to my other fic "Just A Place To Stay" so if you haven't already, I recommend reading that before you continue, otherwise this one will be a tad confusing. So with out any further delay...the not-so-long-awaited sequel...

"Bucky's late. He said he'd be back by 6," Steve said over the phone to Natasha.

It had been a little over a year since Bucky first showed up on Sam's doorstep looking for Steve. He was starting to remember his life, and while it was mostly the happy times during Steve and his friendship, there was also the memories of his days as the Winter Soldier. Once in a while, he get jarred by a memory, or a nightmare, and Steve would be there for him. There were those rare nights where Steve would wake up to a knife at his throat - like when Bucky first stayed with him - or to Bucky screaming from inside a nightmare. Those times were decreasing, thankfully, and (surprisingly) Bucky had taken up cooking as a secondary means of recovery.

"Steve, he's 95. I'm sure Bucky can go for groceries on his own," she condescended.

Before Steve could reply, he heard the lock click and the door opened. Bucky walked in carrying four grocery bags. Steve hung up on Natasha, and got up to help Bucky with the groceries. The two set the bags on the countertop and began unpacking. Bucky took his jacket off and pulled his long hair out of a ponytail. Steve was very protective of the ex-assassin and he always took precautions when Bucky would leave the apartment - like large hoodies.

"Sorry I'm late," he brunette admitted as he stuffed some oranges into a refrigerator drawer, "but there was only one person working the checkout. I'll start on dinner soon."

"S'okay. I'm going to take a shower in a little while so try not to burn the place down," Steve joked while he stocked the freezer with ice cream.

Bucky dramatically placed his metal hand over his heat and feigned hurt, "I am appalled that you could even think of such a maniacal idea!" he went back to organizing cans in the pantry, "but, how does spaghetti sound?"

"Delicious," the captain smiled as he walked into the bathroom.

He took his shirt off halfway and Bucky's eyes fixed on some scars from since-healed bullet holes. He knew that he caused them during the fight in the Helicarrier. And he knew not to focus on them because Steve would do the same thing he always did. He'd take Bucky's face in his hands and tell him that he couldn't help shooting because it wasn't him shooting. Steve would make him repeat it until he felt better, whether that meant saying it two times or twenty.

"Bucky, I know what your thinking about," Steve called from the bathroom over the shower, "say it."

He mumbled "no". But, with his super-soldier hearing, Steve still heard and told him to repeat the line to himself.

"It's not my fault, because it wasn't me shooting."

"Louder," Steve ordered.

"It's not my fault because it wasn't me shooting!" the ex-assassin yelled just to shut him up.

"Better."

Bucky pulled a pot out from a drawer under the oven, filled it with water, and set it to boil. He rummaged through the pantry until he found a box of spaghetti. It was a nice change from the military food he had become forcibly accustomed to, and, since he didn't have any way to earn a living, it kept him from feeling like a leech. Which is also why he did most of the cleaning. He looked behind his shoulder.

The water still has a while to go...

His file wasn't exactly hidden. Steve tried, but he didn't do a very good job. It was in the freezer, in a Ziploc bag, in the bottom drawer, under a bag of frozen peas. He had snuck it out a few times without Steve knowing. The whole thing was in Russian, so it's not like the captain could read it, even if he wanted to. Bucky was silent when he did it; compared to all the stealth work he'd done in the past, sneaking a bag of peas out of place was child's play.

He lifted the bag up silently with his metallic hand, the metal twitched as it adjusted to the familiar cold. His human hand pulled the file from under the bag before he set it down. He left the freezer open and pulled the folder from the bag. Bucky opened it and the first thing that greeted him was the picture of him frozen in his chamber. Ice had prickled around the edge of the paper and made it seem all the more realistic...Bucky could help but graze his human hand over it. He heard the water turned off and a few moments later the door opened. Bucky shoved the file back in its bag and under the peas. The door closed not a second too soon. As Steve walked to the bedroom with a towel around his waist, the ex-assassin rushed back over to the boiling pot and threw the noodles in. He hastily tied his hair back, and started dicing up a tomato.

Steve emerged from the bedroom dressed in some red, plaid, pajama bottoms and a baggy, white T-Shirt. He snuck behind Bucky and plucked a noodle from the boiling pot. The brunette slapped at his hand, signaling for him to sit down and butt out of the kitchen.

"Hey, Buck, look what's on!" Steve called excitedly from the couch.

"I'm a little busy at the moment! The sauce is gonna boil over if I'm not careful!" he called over the sound of the television and swore in Russian.

The TV blared the announcement, "National Geographic presents, the life and service of Captain America."

Steve coaxed Bucky over to the sofa while the ex-assassin clicked the stove off and shoveled the spaghetti onto two plates. He came into the living room, handed a plate to the captain, and sat down on the couch with his own food.

"Careful with the sauce. It's kinda runny...I think I might have added to much water..."

"It's fine, Bucky. I certainly can't come near this."

The pair sat watching the documentary and occasionally mocked the over-glorified commentary. They showed some old reels of Steve when he was still scrawny and both of them almost spit food everywhere laughing when the narrator said that "Steve's lean body type was due to the fact that he had an unusually high metabolism" (which they both knew was a lie). The program moved into the wartime segments and Steve could see Bucky periodically tensing when information on each of the Howling Commandoes came on. The one that came last was Bucky's information and how he was the only Commando to give his life for Captain America.

"I'm getting something to drink," he said as he went for the kitchen.

Steve knew what was going on. Every now and then something would phase him, like this. It rarely happened, but a few weeks ago when Steve suggested that he cut his hair, Bucky refused it; he said that it reminded him too much of a past he no longer had. The brunette came back at the wrong moment. The program began introducing Hydra and gave some facts about Dr. Zola. Steve could see that Bucky had seen enough and switched the TV off. He helped with the dishes before they both went into the bedroom to crash.

Steve was just about to fall asleep, unlike Bucky who was already snoring over on the futon a few feet away, when his phone went off. The ex-assassin groaned in disgust at being woken up, and Steve apologized as he answered. It was Natasha.

"You know its rude to hang up on people?"

"You know its rude to call in the middle of the night?" Steve shot back groggily.

"I'm going to be nice to you. I'm taking you and Snowflake shopping tomorrow -"

Bucky mumbled from across the room, "stop calling me 'Snowflake'."

"It's a gift from Fury. To help, as he put it, blend. Meet me at the mall at noon. The Starbucks in the food court," she said before hanging up.

Steve informed Bucky, who replied with another tired groan of an answer. The captain was already thinking on the overprotective side. If going out in public posed a potential risk for Bucky, a mall was at least twice that.

Great.