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Bucky was gone for 5 minutes. He had just needed to run down the block to pick up antibiotics for Steve. He had just left the kids on the couch, watching some cartoon. If they needed anything, Steve was in the bedroom, asleep. Nothing was supposed to happen.
So when Bucky comes into his apartment with a plastic bag around his wrist to find his coffee maker, toaster, and waffle maker all disassembled with parts spread throughout his living room and an extra child sitting on his floor, he’s more than a little shocked.
Bucky blinks a few times and sets his bag down on the kitchen counter and looks at the third kid in his apartment. “Who-who, who are you?” He finally asks, more than a little exasperated, as the kid starts screwing around with machine parts.
Natasha rolls her eyes and pushes off the couch. “This is Tony. He’s a butthead.”
Bucky frowns at her, then at ‘Tony’. He looks at Clint, and Clint gives him a shrug. “He’s alright. He's eight and a half.”
Natasha sits down on the floor next to Tony and Clint. Tony looks up. “I’m building a killer robot.” The kids go back to whispering and reassembling kitchen appliances.
“O-okay. Um. Be safe.” Bucky says, taking his pharmacy bag and heading toward the bedroom. They’ll be fine. Probably. Natasha knows how to work the fire extinguisher, anyway.
He quietly walks into his room, smiling at the lump of blankets on his bed.
Steve is snoring quietly, one arm thrown over Buckybear. Bucky sits down next to Steve, pushing the blankets down past the mop of blond hair to kiss Steve’s forehead to feel for fever.
“Such a dad…” Steve croaks, bringing up a clammy hand to cup Bucky’s cheek. Bucky hums in agreement. Steve looks adorable, face flushed with fever, lines etched into his skin from the pillow and his hair in a wild disarray. He blinks sleepily and rubs his thumb over Bucky’s cheekbone absentmindedly. Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s wrist and turns to the nightstand to hide his smile.
“Did you drink all your tea?” Bucky asks, picking up the cold mug. Steve scowls.
“I hate tea.” He mutters. The mug is empty though, so Bucky doesn’t press.
“Hey, did you know there’s an extra kid in our living room?” Bucky asks him, slipping his arm behind Steve’s back to help him sit up. Steve bats his arm away and pushes himself up, then blinks rapidly, clearly trying to rid himself of dizziness.
“What kid?” Steve asks after a few moments.
“Uh, Tony, I think. Nat and Clint don’t seem to like him much, but they’re taking apart my kitchen with him, so…” Bucky hands Steve the pill bottle, because he can't get past the child locks with the one hand. Steve uncaps the thing and downs the pill, grimacing at the medicinal taste.
“Stark.” Steve finally says, after gulping down the entire water bottle Bucky hands him. “Tony Stark. Howard’s kid.”
Bucky frowns, taking back the empty water bottle. “Howard Stark? Like our landlord, Howard Stark?”
Steve throws himself back down on his mass of pillows. “That’s the very one.” He unconsciously starts petting Buckybear’s fur. Bucky grins at the memory of the kids tucking Steve in, Natasha draping her ballerina blanket over his shoulders and Clint laying his favorite stuffed animal on Steve’s chest.
Bucky and Steve had moved to a fancy high-scale apartment in Manhattan a few months ago when Bucky had officially adopted Clint. Clint kept having nightmares about his dad coming back for him, and Steve and Bucky had wanted to move in together anyway, so they figured a change of scenery really couldn’t hurt. They'd been together for almost a year and a half, and Steve’s old buddy from college had apparently just bought a building and needed tenants. It felt like fate, at least it did until Bucky met their landlord.
Bucky didn’t like Howard much, and Steve believed that it was because of the Stark Industries bomb that blown his arm off. Bucky would never tell him this, but it was really because of Howard’s obvious giant crush on Steve. Steve was so oblivious about it, it was kind of ridiculous. Bucky didn’t blame Howard, because it was impossible not to fall in love with Steve. He had this light about him that you couldn’t help but be drawn to. What did bother Bucky was that Howard was a flashy douche that was constantly flaunting his money in front of Steve and reminding him how much better he could do than a one-armed vet with brain damage and two kids.
Bucky’s broken out of his thoughts by Steve’s hacking cough. Bucky pulls him upright and rubs his back, the way he had when Natasha was a baby and had croup and he spent weeks sitting next to her crib, terrified that she’d stop breathing in her sleep.
Steve’s coughs taper off and he half-heartedly glares at Bucky. Bucky pulls a second water bottle from his shopping bag and passes it to Steve. Steve takes it and chugs it down messily, ignoring Bucky’s warning to slow down. He finishes the bottle and throws it across the room, missing the trash bin by a wide margin.
“Dude,” Bucky sighs.
“Sorry,” Steve says unapologetically. He shifts on the bed and winces. “Christ, I gotta pee.”
“Yeah, that’s what you get.” Bucky grumbles, helping Steve up. They hobble to the bathroom together, Steve’s arm thrown over his shoulders. Bucky has to resist the urge to just pick Steve up, which would be easier than crouching down like this, but Steve would probably never forgive him.
“I'm not holding your dick for you.” Bucky mutters, letting Steve prop himself up against the bathroom cabinet.
“That's a first.” Steve breathes, leaning heavily against the sink. “Get the hell outta here, Barnes.” He says, waving Bucky off.
Bucky gives him the finger and closes the bathroom door behind him, leaning against the wall. He listens, making sure that Steve doesn't pass out and hit his head on the toilet. Bucky doesn't know what makes his boyfriend 10 times more likely to fight when he's sick, but it's more amusing than it should be.
The door swings open, narrowly hitting Bucky.
“You listenin’ to me pee?” Steve asks, and Bucky goes to his side, supporting Steve’s weight.
“Absolutely.” Bucky tells him, pressing a kiss to Steve’s sweaty hairline. Steve flops onto the bed, and Bucky throws a blanket over him.
“Alright, man. I'm gonna go check on the kids, make sure they're not making a nuclear warhead.” He pats the Steve lump in his bed and it grunts at him.
“Goodnight, sweet prince.” He tells it, and then ducks the pillow Steve throws at him.
He walks out into the living room and is immediately pelted with a machine part. He looks up to see Clint wincing. SORRY! He signs quickly, then turns his attention back to Natasha and the Stark kid.
“You guys are putting all this shit back together when you're done, right?” Bucky asks, looking at the mess on his floor.
“Swear Jar,” Natasha reminds him, and Bucky pulls out his wallet, grabbing a dollar bill with his teeth and tucking his wallet back into his pocket.
He walks over and put the dollar in the little jar that the kids had made as part of an art project at school. He supposes it's probably a good thing, since it was a good reminder not to curse in front of his kids, but he wishes they weren’t so damn smug about it. Well Natasha anyway. Clint sometimes has to throw in a quarter or two.
Bucky settles down on his couch, flipping through his phone and half-watching the kids do whatever they were doing, keeping an eye out for blood and/or screaming.
It takes him a minute to figure out that he's being watched, which was kinda sad, considering he had been in the Army and all.
Stark’s kid is staring at him. It's a little creepy, actually, the way the kid was watching him, unblinkingly.
“What’s up, kid?” Bucky asks, leaning forward.
“Did you know that when hippos are upset, their sweat turns red?” Tony asks him, still blatantly staring. It wasn't the sort of staring he was used to. Tony wasn't looking anywhere near his missing arm.
“I did not know that.” Bucky says. “Did you know that sharks are colorblind?”
The kid’s eyes go wide and a grin breaks out across his face. “Did you know that almonds are technically part of the peach family?”
“Did you know that a shark can grow and lose up to 20,000 teeth in it's lifetime?” So most of his fun facts are shark related, so what?
Clint catches his attention. “What’s for dinner?”
“Soup.” Bucky tells him, checking the time. “Actually, I need to get started on that. Tony, are you staying for dinner?”
He looks at the kid and Tony shrugs.
“I'll call your dad.” He grunts, getting up from the couch. He was making his mom’s matzo ball soup, which was known for curing all ills. He had made the matzo and the broth that morning, so all he has to do was heat it up and mix it all together.
He starts getting out ingredients and pauses to but his earbuds in. He uses the hands-free thing to call Stark. The line rings for a few seconds before he picks up.
“This is Howard Stark.”
“Howard, it's Bucky. Your kid is at my place.” Bucky says, chopping carrots.
“I'm sorry, who is this?” He asks, and Bucky rolls his eyes.
“Barnes. I live in 14D.”
“Oh, right! You're Steve’s… friend.” Stark says.
“Yeah, I'm Steve boyfriend. Listen; your kid is at my place.” Bucky pulls out a pot and put it down on the stove, turning the heat on.
“Tony?” Howard asks, and Bucky starts pouring his broth into the pot.
“Yeah, Tony. He’s in my living room, playing with my kids.” Bucky tells him, stirring the carrots in.
“Oh. I didn't even know he left.” Stark chuckles, like it's hilarious that he didn't know the whereabouts of his child.
“Anyway, I was just calling to make sure it was okay.” Bucky asks, putting his spoon down. He doesn't want to be a judgmental parent, because those moms from the carpool always piss him off, but Stark’s casual dismissal of Tony’s absence rubs him the wrong way.
“Oh, yeah, it's fine. I mean, if he’s not being a bother or anything. Just tell him to get lost whenever you need him out of your hair. Hey, how's Steve doing? I haven't seen him in a while.”
Bucky grits his teeth, throwing chicken into the soup. “Steve’s fine. He's just a little under the weather. Is it alright if Tony stays for dinner?”
“What? Oh, yeah it's fine, I don't care. Does Steve have the flu, or?”
Bucky slams the lid over the soup, bringing the heat down to a simmer. “Bronchitis.”
“Christ, does he need anything? Medicine? A doctor? Soup? I’m sure I can get my cook to whip something up. His mom’s Irish, right? I’m sure Rosa's got some Irish stew recipe laying around.”
Irish stew. Dammit, why didn't he think of that?
“Thanks, Howard, but I've got it covered.” Bucky says, trying to sound pleasant. Or, at the very least, not aggressive. “I’ll see you when I drop Tony off.”
“You really don't have to. He knows his way.” Howard says, sounding a little put out.
“I'll see you.” Bucky tells him, and hangs up. “Asshole,” he mutters, then looks around to make sure him none of the kids heard him. He takes out a dollar for the Swear Jar anyway.
When the soup is done, he calls the kids for dinner. He directs Clint to set the table and asks Tony to help him get water for everybody. He tells Natasha to go and wake Steve.
“Gently.” He says. “No screaming and jumping on him this time. Steve is a delicate flower.”
Natasha scoffs but flounces off to go get Steve.
“Don’t tell him I said that!” Bucky calls after her, handing Tony a water cup to take to the table. Tony focuses on his mission with the utmost determination, staring at the cup as if daring it to spill. Clint jumps out of his way when Tony makes his way to the table, letting Tony put the cup on the placemat.
Bucky hears a shuffling sound and turns around to see Natasha pulling on Steve’s hand. Steve looks half-awake, wrapped up in Natasha’s ballerina blanket and wearing his ugly fleece pajama pants and one of Bucky’s threadbare US Army shirts. Natasha huffs and tries to pull him faster, leading him to the dining table. Steve blinks and shambles to his chair, sitting down. Bucky walks over and puts his hand on Steve’s back, rubbing in small circles.
Clint happily bounds over and puts Steve’s soup in front of him, Steve lazily signs a THANK YOU , and turns his face into the steam of the soup. He groans in pleasure, even as his glasses fog up.
“God, it smells delicious, Buck.” Steve says, picking up his spoon.
“Give it a second to cool off.” Bucky tells him, sitting down. The kids both climb into their chairs, and Tony, holding the last cup of water, looks momentarily unsure of himself. Bucky nods toward the fifth chair they have in case of guests ("guests" usually just means Sam). It’s already set up with a bowl of soup and a plastic placemat. Tony climbs into his chair and slides his napkin into his lap politely.
The kids almost immediately start babbling amongst themselves about something or other, blowing on their spoons and loudly slurping the soup. Steve shivers slightly, then, as he almost always does, tucks his freezing cold bare feet under Bucky’s thigh.
Tony and Natasha start arguing about something rather loudly, and Clint claps his hands over his ears. The new hearing aids sometimes have problems with the volume control, and sudden loud noises can be a problem for him.
Bucky snaps his fingers at Natasha and she stops, looking at him. She glances at Clint and her faces falls guiltily. Tony looks at Bucky and Natasha, shrinking in his seat. Steve signs at Clint, asking if he’s okay, and Clint nods, pulling out one of his hearing aids and adjusting the volume dial.
“Nat, put your drink in Montana.” Bucky said, eyeing her cup teetering dangerously close to the edge of the table.
Natasha, who’s placemat happened to be a colorful plastic map of the United States, moved her water to the state of Montana and safely out of the way of any errant elbows.
Steve hoarsely asks Tony what he’s doing in school, and Tony brightens up, talking about his Robotics club.
“…And I'm the youngest on the team! Hank Pym is the second youngest and he’s 13. I always get paired up with him even though he's stupid and a jerk. I wanna go with Bruce, because he’s really smart and funny even though he’s quiet and he got kicked off the team in Ohio for his ideas being too dangerous and he’s totally awesome! But he’s always with Jane Foster. Jane should work with Susan instead. Not cuz they're both girls or whatever, but because Jane’s idea for anaerobic oil would be perfect for Susan’s hydraulic actuators, but Susan and Reed are always too busy sucking face to do anything. Reed and Hank can be partners, since they're both stupid jerks.”
Steve blinks and nods, as if he understands Tony’s babble, which seemed to be a strange mix of complicated techno-talk and petty gossip.
Bucky looks out of the corner of his eye, catching Clint and Natasha signing back and forth under the table. He raises his eyebrow at Natasha and she mirrors him, signing NOSY-NOSY-NOSY with a disapproving look on her face.
Clint looks up and signs M-Y-O-B, trying not to smile at Bucky. The kid is completely un-sneaky. Bucky rolls his eyes, waving at them dismissively.
Tony; once you got him started apparently, did not stop talking, even if it was obvious no one is listening. Bucky tries to pay attention, he honestly does, but he can’t follow the kid’s line of thought. He jumps from one topic to the next, without pausing for breath.
Throughout the dinner, Bucky has to save three more cups from certain death, bring ice to Clint after he bites his tongue (though Bucky doesn't know how he manages to bite his tongue while eating soup ), tell Natasha not to stand on her chair, and jab Steve in the side to keep him from falling asleep in his soup. Twice.
They finally finish. Steve sleepily praises Bucky’s cooking and Bucky feels smug and vindicated about his kitchen/boyfriend prowess. The kids collect the dishes and dump them in the sink for Bucky to wash later and Steve waddles back to bed.
The kids dive back into their project that Bucky is keeping half an eye on. Bucky opens his laptop and goes through the recent orders. He’s just shipped out two newly patched up stuffed mermaids, belonging to a set of twins from Ohio. His business is growing rapidly, and trying to manage his website is giving him a headache. Or maybe not, since he has yet to take his night meds.
He takes zoloft for depression, prazosin for nightmares, neurontin for nerve pain, and donepezil for memory loss.
He has to keep his meds separate from Steve's, because he once accidentally took Steve's arrhythmia medication instead of of his neurontin and spent the day with a racing heart and random bouts of pain.
After ironically forgetting to take his memory medication too many times, Bucky started keeping his medication in one of those weekly pill boxes and set alarms on his phone to remind him to take them. He was starting to turn into an old man, if he wasn't one already.
“Daddy!” Is all the warning he gets before 50 pounds of child is catapulted into his lap. He grunts and repositions Natasha so her knee isn't in his spleen. He puts his laptop on the coffee table, amazed that Natasha hadn't landed on it.
“Yes, spawn?”
“Bucky-dad!” Clint says, tackling him on his armless side.
“Yes, Clint-son?”
“Can we some of the not-gross ice cream? The kind Steve doesn't know about?” Natasha asks him, pushing Clint off of Bucky’s lap.
“Steve’s organic low calorie fudge pops aren't gross, and you know that you're not supposed to eat those without asking him.”
Clint shrugs, entirely unrepentant. “Can we have your secret not organic, high calorie ice cream?”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Bucky says.
“I'm not allowed to have ice cream at my house.”
Natasha’s puppy eyes had lost effect on him years ago, and he’s just started building up an immunity to Clint’s. But the way the new kid pouts at him is a mix of adorable and heartbreaking. Bucky can feel his defenses crumble.
“Okay, fine. You guys can have real ice cream-”
The kids cheer.
“- If, you pick up all the machinery in the living room.” Bucky amends, and the children scurry off to clean up their little project.
Bucky sighs and struggles to his feet. That's one thing no one ever tells you about parenthood. Kids are manipulative little shits.
Bucky digs out his ice cream from the back of the freezer. It's got a thin layer of frost on the lid, and Bucky can't manage pry it open with just the one hand.
He throws it in the microwave for a few seconds, because hey, if he's gonna poison his kids with bleached sugar and food dye, why not throw in some gamma rays or whatever the hell it is that microwaves use to heat up food.
When he pulls it out of the microwave, he's able to pull off the lid, and the ice cream is just soft enough for him to scoop without any help. He doles out scoops into three little bowls for the kids and one grown-up sized bowl for himself, because why not; he deserves it.
The kids eat happily at the table, managing to get completely sticky and covered in chocolate. Bucky knows his kids well enough to keep baby wipes on hand in any given situation, and thoroughly wipes down Clint and Natasha’s faces and hands until they start to whine. He hands Tony a wipe, because Bucky doesn't know the kid well enough to bathe him like a mother cat, and if the kid can understand mechanical engineering he can figure out how to operate a baby wipe.
Bucky was mistaken.
“How did you you get it in you hair?” Bucky mutters, using the spray bottle that Steve generally uses on his weird pet cactus collection to spritz soap and water onto Tony’s ice creamed hair.
Tony was sitting on the kitchen counter, somehow worse off than before.
“Talent.” He replies. Bucky makes a face and tousles Tony’s hair with a hand towel. Tony giggles and manages to take the towel away from Bucky. Bucky sprays him with the spray bottle.
Tony is still sputtering by the time Bucky waves the hand towel with a flourish and declares, “Done! Completely painless, right?”
Tony scrunches up his nose, wiping water off his face. “Wouldn’t say that.”
Bucky helps him climb off the counter and Tony dusts off his shorts like a tiny little elitist.
The kids come out of their rooms in pajamas and Bucky suddenly realizes that it's almost 9.
“Your dad probably wants you home, huh, kid.” Bucky asks, and Tony replies with a shrug.
“Alright, get your shoes on, I’ll walk you up in a minute.”
Tony nods and goes to get his sneakers. Bucky crouches down and waves Natasha and Clint over. They obediently walk over to him and give him a hug.
“What’s been going on with you guys, huh?” Bucky asks them, pulling back. Clint looks away guiltily but Natasha holds her ground.
“ Я думаю, что ты с ума сошел ” She says, and Clint gives her a look. He doesn’t like being left out of conversations, and his knowledge of russian is limited to “i love you,” “goodnight,” and “god dammit Natalia Alianovna, stop that”
“I’m not crazy. You two have been acting shifty all day. What’s up?”
Bucky watches Clint, knowing who the weakest link is here.
Clint looks at Natasha, and they have some sort of silent eye-contact conversation. Clint turns back to Bucky and reaches out to tentatively touch Bucky’s empty sleeve. It’s an issue that he’s never brought up, and one that Natasha brings up very seldomly.
“I know what it's like, kinda” Clint says seriously, dropping the sleeve and waving at his ears. “Not really. I mean, it's not the same thing. But. I know what it's like sometimes. Not being able to do stuff. At least, not the way other people do them.”
“What’s this about, kiddo?” Bucky asks, taking in the serious look on his son’s face.
Natasha runs to her room and comes back with a bunch of paper. She hands it to Bucky and he frowns down at it.
“Where did you guys print this out?” Bucky asks, baffled.
“The school library.” Natasha says.
THE POWER OF PROSTHETICS by Natasha Barnes, Clint Barton-Barnes, and Tony Stark glares up at him in brightly colored comic sans.
“Ooookay.” Bucky says, looking back up at his kids. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow at breakfast, alright? I’ve gotta take Tony home.”
“Hey,” Natasha says, grabbing his hand. “We’re gonna actually talk about this. For real talk, not just ‘we’ll talk about it’ talk.”
“We’ll talk about it.” Bucky tells her, cupping her grumpy little face and kissing her forehead. He does the same to Clint and stands.
“Tony, you got everything?” He calls.
“Yeah.” Tony replies, and Bucky nods.
“I’ll be back in a sec. Wake up Steve if you need him, but only if it's an emergency.” Bucky tells his kids, and puts on his slippers.
He’s never really told anyone about this, but he had once had a prosthetic, when he was still basically living at the VA hospital. Back when he was half-man, half-ghost, living off a mixture of prescription narcotics and MREs. Long before he’d gone two weeks without sleep and ended up in the bed of a woman he’d never met before. Long before the terrible mistake that had saved his life.
He’d had a prosthetic, once. It was jarring, to look down and see a part of him that didn’t belong. He mind couldn’t comprehend it, not back then. Not back when he wasn’t sure where he was half of the time. It scared him. It made him wonder what other parts of him might be fake, might have been replaced. It made him want to tear at his skin, just to know if it was his.
The idea of getting another one honestly terrified him. The thought of unravelling now, now that he has everything he’s ever wanted, was terrifying. He knows that a simple prosthetic probably won’t ruin everything he’s worked for, but that it could be a small possibility unsettled him.
“What’s your apartment number?” Bucky asks Tony, holding the door open for him.
“It's the penthouse.” Tony says, “Just press the top button in the elevator, I’ve got a key.”
Penthouse? Christ, what eight year old lived in a penthouse?
“Alrighty.” Bucky says, letting Tony push the elevator call button.
Tony casually takes his hand, the way only little kids can do. The elevator dings and they step inside. Tony pulls a keycard out of his pocket and reaches up on his tiptoes to slide it into the slot and press the top button.
“To the penthouse, Master Stark” says the elevator.
“What the fuck?!” Bucky exclaims, looking around wildly. Tony bursts into hysterical laughter.
“That’s just Jarvis.” Tony says, unable to keep from smiling.
“It doesn’t usually do that.” Bucky breathes, trying to act like he wasn't scared out of his wits by an elevator.
“No, Jarvis works for us, right J?”
“I serve at the pleasure of the Starks, sir.” The elevator answers, somehow sounding snarky.
“What the fuck?” Bucky repeats, quietly this time. “How- you have the ghost of a British butler trapped in your elevator.”
“I assure you, Mister Barnes, I am not haunting this building. I'm merely a marvel of modern science and engineering.”
“Your ghost is kind of full of himself.” Bucky tells Tony, who nods.
“Yeah, he kinda is.” Tony agrees and Bucky thinks he can hear the elevator scoff.
“The penthouse, sirs.” Says the elevator primly, and the doors slide open.
“This is my stop.” Tony says, letting go of Bucky’s hand.
Bucky can't help it, he peeks inside. He's never seen a rich person’s home before. It seems disappointingly ordinary, if way too big and clean for Manhattan.
“Is your dad home?” Bucky asks, following Tony into the front room.
“I don't know, maybe. Do you want to talk to him?” Tony asks, slipping off his shoes.
“Not really.” Bucky tells him honestly.
“Do you wanna see something cool?” Tony asks him.
“Always,” Bucky says, and lets Tony lead him to what Bucky assumes is his bedroom, though it's about the size of Bucky’s last apartment.
Tony runs off and comes back with a little robot looking thing with pizza-cutters for hands and track wheels. He places it on the ground in front of Bucky and flips a switch on its back. It starts rolling toward Bucky, and the pizza-cutters spin wildly. Bucky steps out of it’s way and watches it roll to the door.
“It’s got a mini-ITX case and motherboard, and it's made out of a steel-aluminum alloy.” Tony tells him, jogging to catch the robot and turn it off.
“What’s it do?” Bucky asks.
“It cuts pizza.” Tony says, cradling the robot. “Well, it's supposed to. It mostly just destroys stuff.”
“Cool.” Bucky says, impressed. “Does it have a name?”
Tony smiles. “No ever asks that.”
“What is it?” Bucky asks.
“Donatella.” Tony says, gently tucking the robot into a box.
There’s a loud banging sound and a muffled curse from somewhere in the house. Tony’s head jerks up and he looks out the door. “Dad?”
There’s the sound of something breaking and Bucky can hear a male voice saying. "Write that down!"
Tony shrugs. “I guess he’s home.”
“I should probably get back to Nat and Clint, then.” Bucky says, tucking his hand in his pocket. “You can stop by anytime you need to, Steve tends to keep the door unlocked. Next time though, bring your own machinery to take apart.”
“Yes, sir.” Tony says, grinning.
"See you around."
Bucky walks back to the elevator and stares at it suspiciously. Tony, who followed him out, presses the button for him. The doors open, and Bucky walks inside, giving Tony a wave. Tony waves back and the doors close.
"Hey, elevator ghost?" Bucky asks.
"Yes, Mister Barnes?" The elevator replies.
"The kid's gonna be okay, right?"
"Yes sir, I believe he will be." Says the elevator.
The elevator stops on his floor. Bucky pats the side of the elevator in thanks, and tries not to feel stupid about it.
He tucks the kids into bed, kissing their little foreheads and bidding them goodnight. He goes back out into the living room, turns on the late night talk shows for background noise, and picks up THE POWER OF PROSTHETICS by Natasha Barnes, Clint Barton-Barnes, and Tony Stark.
Around 10:30, he climbs into bed and is promptly spooned by Steve, who is roughly a million Kelvin, yet still has freezing cold toes, which he tucks between Bucky's legs.
"Mm, love you." Steve says, still basically asleep.
"You too," Bucky says, kissing the crown of Steve's head.
"The kids're weird today, right?" Steve asks, turning to Bucky.
"Yeah, they had a thing."
"Thing?" Steve says sleepily, rubbing his face against Bucky's shoulder.
"In the morning," Bucky tells him, and Steve hums in agreement and steals his covers.