Bucky wasn't an early riser when he didn't need to be, and even muffled the voices from the kitchen were both familiar enough by now that they only registered as a threat to his prolonged hibernation. He briefly thought about pulling a pillow over his head and giving sleep another shot, but he'd actually meant to be awake before Clint for a number of reasons that included introductions. So much for that.

He shuffled into the room in a pair of boxers and a wifebeater, catching the tail end of the conversation and the smell of coffee brewing. And hey, waffles!

"Morning." He yawned, glanced between Clint and Steve, gaze lingering on the latter. At least he had a reason to stare this time around, but he was still kinda waiting to wake up from this funny dream where his best friend was making waffles in their kitchen. Steve in Clint's apron was an image he kinda wanted to frame. "Steve." He grinned at his friend, but didn't offer any further comment.

"You can't grill a man for information before he's had coffee," he added. "That's inhumane. I think it might actually be illegal."

He leaned back against the counter beside Clint, arms folded across his chest, and bumped Clint's shoulder with his own. "Welcome home, by the way. Sorry I slept through introductions."