Title: What, Like It's Hard?
Wordcount: 560
Summary: Inspired by Elle Woods in Legally Blonde. Bucky moves Mjölnir while he's cleaning, and doesn't understand what the big deal is.

“Hey Buck, w-what’re ya doing with that?” Steve’s looking at him like he’s just grown a third head or something.

Shit. What the fuck did I do now?

“Sorry, pal, I was just trying to help out a little around here.” Bucky lets go of the handle, letting the big, ugly hammer drop to the floor. “Just clearing things off the floor so I could do a little cleaning before we drown in cat fur.” Big old viking shouldn’t leave his shit all over if he don’t want people manhandling it outta their way.

Steve doesn’t move. The mook’s still just standing there, mouth open like a fucking goldfish, and ain’t that just annoying as fuck. Bucky maneuvers the vacuum canister around the big lug so that he can plug it in.

“If you don’t mind…” Vacuum in hand, Bucky nods at the floor, the stares pointedly at Steve. “Do ya need a goddamn written invitation to get the fuck outta my way, Stevie?”

“Oh…um, I—I….sorry ‘bout that.” Steve ducks his head down and scrubs a broad palm across the back of his neck, and damn if that don’t just make Bucky melt a little. Priorities, Barnes. He flips the switch, and suddenly, the room echoes with the whir of the vacuum. From the corner of his eye, Bucky sees that Steve is still staring at him like he’s some Coney Island freak, but at least he’s moved off the goddamn rug.

If you’re gonna just stand there gawping you could at least grab a rag and do some dustin’, make yourself useful, punk. Steve frowns and heads to the kitchen, and Bucky realizes that maybe he might’ve grumbled that last bit out loud because Steve’s back with a rag and making his rounds of the bookcase now.

Bucky works quickly, but thoroughly, moving the furniture and getting into all the nooks and crannies, all those places that Steve just “forgets.” He slides the loveseat back into its place and realizes there’s only one spot left to clear up.

“Don’t worry,” he gives the hammer a rough tug, then drops it in front of the overstuffed chair. “I ain’t gonna do anything with it. Just gonna finish up real fast.”

 “B-bucky, do you know what you’re doin’?” And there he is, standing there ready to catch flies again. Bucky’s half-tempted to throw something into his mouth, just for the hell of it.  

“Yeah, I told ya, I’m cleanin’.” Bucky takes a quick pass at the now-empty spot next to the coffee table. Something rattles inside the canister. Shit. He turns the switch and opens it up to find a tangle of red wool around one of the rotors. He’s only half-listening as he carefully unwinds the yarn.

“B-b-but—but, Buck, that’s Mjölnir!”

“Yeah, and the vacuum’s a fuckin’ Dyson. What of it?” Gotcha! Bucky pulls he yarn free from the vacuum with a triumphant little hrmph.

“You…y-you can pick up Mjölnir?”

“What, like it’s hard?”

Bucky closes the case to the vacuum. He gets right back to it, running the machine over the spot where Thor left the dumb hammer until the indentations are gone from the rug. Yes. 

Satisfied with a job well done, Bucky returns the vacuum to the utility closet, and makes a mental note to remind Thor to get his shit.