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Sam gifts a new vacuum cleaner to Bucky. It goes as well as you would expect it to.
"So it eats the dirt," Bucky said.
He glared at the brand new vacuum cleaner sitting in the middle of his empty apartment. It was late afternoon, the summer sun streaming through the Brooklyn Window, bright against the stark wood boards. There was an intense glare that jumped of Bucky's metal arm. It was almost like he had positioned himself purposely so that the light shone directly on the other man in the apartment.
"No. It doesn't eat it. It's not a dog." Sam said, leaning against the door frame. He kept moving his head to avoid the light reflection. Bucky would shift his position just enough a few minutes later, redirecting the light back at Sam's face.
"Hmmm" Mumbled Bucky, keeping his eyes on the machine.
Since Same had brought the vacuum in the place a few minutes earlier, Bucky had kept it at arm's reach and did not show any intention of getting any closer to it. He hadn't invited Sam over or asked for the vacuum. One casual comment about dirt and now there it was a few days later.
"Do you want to open it up?" Sam asked. He was excited to see it in action. God knows the place could do with a good vacuuming.
Bucky made no movements. He remained standing back against the far wall.
"Yes? No?" Sam prompted. "I'm not getting a clear signal from your smiling face." He said. Bucky turned his "smiling face" on Sam.
There was nothing that said "Yes Sam! I can't wait to try out my new vacuum. How thoughtful of you to get this for me." There was nothing there. Just eyes, intensely boring into Sam's.
"Leave it there." Bucky finally said, turning it attention back to the machine.
A week later, the vacuum cleaner was still in the box in the same spot.
"Did you even open it!" Sam demanded when he saw the box. Upon further inspection, it was clear that the box was unopened. It had not moved an inch. Sam would have known. He would have been able to see marks in the dust the coated the floor. His footprints from last week were a few shades lighter than the rest of the floor.
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Bucky shrugged. "No need."
"No need?" Scoffed Sam. "There is at least an inch of dirt on this floor. And you don't even have furniture to hide it. There is a definite need for this."
Bucky shot him a look that would scare most people. He walked over to the box and jammed his metal hand in between the tape. He tore the top off with immense and unnecessary brute strength.
"Don't break the box! You might want to return it." Sam cautioned.
Without taking his eyes off Sam, Bucky grabbed the other flap of the box and tore the cardboard. This time he tore slowly and deliberately ripping the entire box in two. He tossed the ripped pieces aside.
"Or go full Hulk on it. That works too. We don't need to return it." Said Sam sighing loudly.
Bucky pulled the remaining styrofoam off, leaving the vacuum in a pile of discarded and broken packaging. Bucky stalked back to the other side of the room. Sam found the plug and tugged on it, pulling it out long enough so that it could be plugged into the outlet.
There it was. The beautiful new Dyson Vacuum Cleaner. It was ready to get work.
"All right big guy. She's ready to go." Said Sam gesturing. Bucky didn't move. He just stared at it, his left eye twitching slightly. There was no way to know what the man was thinking.
"Make it move." Said Bucky finally.
"I'm not cleaning your floor. It's your dirt." Said Sam.
"It doesn't just...eat the dirt?"Bucky eyed him suspiciously.
"No. You have to push it." Said Sam, making a back and forth movement with his hands. "You have to "Vacuum" the floor."
"It doesn't work by itself?" Demanded Bucky.
"No it doesn't I can't afford fancy Stark robots," Sam said exasperated.
Bucky slowly walked back over to inspect it. He pushed the red button. Immediately the vacuum fired up loudly. Bucky jumped at the noise. Startled, he let go letting go of the machine. It shook, sputtered, and fell over, running its wheels frantically in the air. Bucky stared at it, unmoving. Sam watched him, at first in shock and then holding back laughter.
"Have you ever used a vacuum before?" Sam asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Bucky didn't say anything. Sam looked at him and realization dawned. A large smile spread across his face.
"You've never used a vacuum cleaner before have you?" He asked again. Sam started laughing.
"Don't laugh." Bucky snapped. Sam laughed harder.
"You can kill anyone in the world but you don't know how the vacuum cleaner works."
"It's not funny." Said Bucky.
"Oh, yes. It is. It is very funny." Snorted Sam. After a few more minutes of laughing and the vacuum running futilely, Sam regained his composure. He walked over to the vacuum cleaner. Reaching down, he set it upright and switched it off. The machine grew quiet instantly.
"Want to try again?" He asked.
"No." Said Bucky.
"Are you scared of it?" Sam said, laughing again. Bucky scowled.
"No." He said.
Bucky mechanically reached for the vacuum, wrapping his metal fingers around the handle, gripping hard enough that Sam feared the plastic might break. Bucky pushed the power button, turning on the machine. He slowly pushed it forward across the floor, not moving his feet.
"Good." Grinned Sam. "Now bring it back."
Bucky drug the vacuum back and stopped. " That was perfect." Proclaimed Sam. "Now you have to do that everywhere. Make sure you eat all the dirt." He gave Bucky a pat on the back as he walked past him.
"And they say you can't teach an old dog new tricks," Sam said leaving the apartment. A few minutes later, he exited onto the street, the sun just sinking below the buildings, signaling another evening in Brooklyn.
Laying, broken in pieces, on the concrete was the vacuum.
