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The building was shaking, and Richard couldn't help but wonder how long it would take for the ceiling to cave in.
Of course, the kids had had training for these types of situations, roughly barked at them through the clenched teeth of instructors. You will exit through the sewage tunnels , a man had said long ago, his scarred arms crossed.
The intruders had come through the sewage tunnels.
Richard released a deep breath through his nose. The wall was cold against his back, and he tried to press himself closer to it, as if he could seep through the cracks at its foundation. He wasn't sure where the other children were; he could only hope they had taken the opportunity to run for it.
The idealistic, four-year old part of him wondered whether the intruders were there to save him, to save all of them. That idealistic part of him wasn't strong enough to hold back the anxiety that crept up his throat, anxiety over what the intruders would do when they found him.
The world wasn't kind to him. These people would be no different.
Richard let himself slide down onto the floor, crouching so that he could tuck his knees underneath his stomach. The training room was barren, a hard floor with equipment strung up around them. The only piece of furniture was a shelf to the left of him. He started to crawl across the floor to it.
He could feel vibrations in the floor, like harsh footsteps, becoming stronger and stronger. In a last ditch effort, he threw himself towards the shelf.
The door to the training room opened. Richard had failed. He hadn't gotten to the shelf in time. There was nowhere to hide.
Closing his eyes, shame washed over him in waves. How could he allow himself to die such a cowardly death? He couldn't even look his future murderer in the eyes, let alone fight them. He held his legs closer to his chest, waiting for the pain to start and abruptly end.
It was a surprise, then, when no hit came.
“Kid.” The voice was soft and low, like someone comforting a stray dog off the street. “Hey, kid, you alright?”
He didn't look, keeping his head low. There was a shuffling sound, like the man from the door was coming closer, and the rustling of fabric made it sound like he was raising his hand. Again, Richard waited for the blow.
“Romanoff,” the man said, and the muffled sound of someone on the other side of a transceiver gargled a reply. “I found the unaccounted kid."
Without meaning to, Richard's head shot up immediately, staring unabashedly at the other man before he could stop himself. The other man met his gaze steadily, not shaken by the sudden change in demeanor.
"Did you kill them?" He wanted his voice to be strong, like the trainers, but it came off like a whimper anyway. The man's left hand flexed, and Richard was surprised to see the dim light of the room glinting off of it.
"No, bud, your friends are alive and well," the man murmured. Rage pounded against the kid's skull.
"They're not my friends!" Richard hissed, trying once again to push himself into the wall. The man didn't move from his position, only ducking his head a little lower, clutching the receiver in his right hand a little tighter. Even though the boy noted the movement, he still jerked back when the other man raised the receiver up to his ear. Immediately, the receiver was set down.
"I didn't mean to startle you," he soothed, sitting down completely now. The man was sitting in a childish position, and Richard felt laughter bubbling deep within him at how odd it looked. "I'm Bucky. What's your name?"
"Richard," he answered quietly. It didn't matter how much this man knew, anyway.
"Richard," Bucky said warmly, "It's nice to meet you."
The boy didn't move away from his position next to the wall, but he did sit up slightly straighter, less crouched. "It's nice to meet you too," he muttered, still defensive. Bucky flashed a smile.
"How old are you, Richard?"
"I don't think I should answer that." And then Richard waited for the hit. Still, nothing happened. Bucky was just looking at him, no judgment in his gaze.
"I'm thirty-five," Bucky declared, and Richard couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth.
"That's old!" He exclaimed, not having any time to regret the oddly childish outburst, as Bucky started to laugh.
"Yeah, I've been told that," Bucky said, still chuckling. The room was still, the rumbling from before having died down, making Richard all too aware of the small silences between them.
"I'm four," he whispered, and Bucky's gaze softened.
"Are you new here, Richard?" The boy was already shaking his head vehemently, and couldn't stop himself from another outburst.
"No, everyone else is new," he spat out, curling against the wall, "I got here first." Bucky's eyebrows shot up. Richard thought it was a funny expression, but didn't let it show.
"How long have you been here?" The man's voice was soft, so much so that it was overwhelming. The harshness of the floor was suddenly unbearable, and he was too aware of how sharp and cold the tiles were, how protruding each knuckle in his fist was, and how stiff his clothing was.
"I was born here," Richard answered, bringing his knees towards his chest as he settled further against the wall. The concern from Bucky was tangible.
"Are you sure?" The man asked, his hand reached for the receiver on the floor. Richard didn't flinch, and only nodded as a response. "Are you okay with me picking up the receiver?" Bucky then asked, and Richard nodded again.
Slowly, Bucky picked the receiver off the floor, holding it up to his left ear. His metal arm shone brighter in the light now, and Richard marveled at the plates near the fingers and wrist, how each part shifted with subtle movements. It reminded him of the engineering lab, which he would sometimes get to peek into, where the scientists would make things for the trainers. He wasn't sure what kinds of things, but they always looked cool.
"Romanoff, no need for backup. We're just having a friendly chat." With the last addition, Bucky smiled again, and Richard relaxed. No backup. That was fine. Maybe Richard could get away if needed, then.
"Do you like being here?" Bucky asked, tilting his head to the side slightly, as if trying to guess Richard's answer.
"In the training room?" Richard inquired, confused.
"In this whole place," Bucky clarified.
"Yes," Richard answered automatically, robotically. "It's my home." He wasn't sure what other answer Bucky was expecting.
"Was anybody else born here?"
"Just me," Richard said.
"So where did the other children come from?" Bucky probed gently. Richard hated those types of questions, the ones where he knew that the adult knew the answer, but wanted to see if he knew. It was annoying, and yet he answered.
"Came from other places, I guess," Richard mumbled. Bucky nodded along.
"Yeah, bud, they did. And it wasn't good what HYDRA-" Richard shuddered a bit at the name- "Did to them and you."
There was silence between them, and a weight sat in Richard's stomach, keeping him seated on the ground. It felt like an air pocket, only heavier, and it was slowly making its way up his throat, threatening to choke him. It was uneasy, the way the other man was treating him- kindness, that was the word- and for a moment, the boy wished he would get yelled at just so he could go back to what was normal.
"Are you destroying HYDRA?" Richard asked quietly, now fisting his shirt in his hands.
"Yes," Bucky answered, patient and honest, "They have hurt a lot of people."
He had to focus on his lip to stop it from wobbling. It didn't help that there was suddenly a pressure on the back of his eyes, threatening to overflow.
"Are the other kids going to go home?" The boy asked, words slow to avoid the tears.
"We're going to get all of you home," Bucky gently replied. Richard couldn't help it; the tears started to fall. He could tell by the way that the man tensed up that Bucky wanted to move to help, but resisted the urge.
"But this is my home." Richard smeared his tears across his face with his wrist, not bothering to fully pat his face dry. "I don't have another one."
"Richard," Bucky tried, "We can find you a family-"
"I don't have a family," the boy cried out, "Just let me stay here."
"Bud, I can't leave you here," Bucky said, desperation creeping into his voice. "There are plenty of families looking to adopt-"
"No one will take me," Richard interrupted again, more tears streaming down his face. "I know I'm not normal. They told me I'm not normal."
"Richard," Bucky said firmly, and it didn't escape the kid's notice that the man was inching slightly closer to him, "I promise that I will not stop until I find you a family."
The boy hiccuped, his eyes reddened by his tears. "You can't promise that," Richard whispered.
"I can ," Bucky stated, "And I am."
Bucky started to reach for him, very slowly, but Richard jerked back violently. "No!" He screeched, "I don't want you to take me!"
The man backed away instantly, hands up in surrender. "I can't leave you here," he repeated.
By now, Richard was well aware that he couldn't be left there, but some part of him was still grasping onto the broken straws of his current life.
"I won't move," Richard said as stubbornly as he could while his voice wobbled.
"Okay," Bucky murmured, and then the man slumped his shoulders inward, relaxing even more than before. "Then I'm going to stay here with you." He quirked an eyebrow up, tilting his head slightly. "That's okay with you?"
Richard stared back for a moment, before nodding sharply. Bucky nodded back.
- - - - -
"Can I ask how long you guys were sitting there?" Sam joked, but there was a seriousness in his eyes as he motioned to Bucky with his stirring spoon.
Bucky let out a sharp exhale, a sound that was mostly masked by the bustle of the coffee shop. There was a rustic feeling in the air, aided by the wall of wood panels and the logs that ran as beams across the ceiling. The plants that hung from the beams were a nice touch too.
The coffee was spectacular too, but maybe that was just because Bucky was now biased towards the whole place. How could he not be? His first time at the place and he got to go with the most beautiful man he'd ever dated. His life really was looking up.
"A fucking long time," Bucky huffed out, the side of his mouth crooking up into a half smile. "But it was worth it."
"Yeah," Sam said softly. Bucky didn't miss the way that Sam's hands started to creep forward, slightly past his coffee cup. "So what, you just automatically adopted him?"
At Sam's words, Bucky barked out a sharp laugh, and the people at the tables closest to them turned at the sound. It didn't bother him at all; Bucky was stuck in his own personal bubble. Maybe that was what caused him to grow a spine and reach across the table to where Sam's hand was resting and squeeze it, not pulling away after the initial action. The other man didn't look down at his hand, didn't flinch at the feeling of metal on skin. The only thing that confirmed that Bucky had actually grabbed Sam's hand was the small smile on the man's face.
"Well, I had told him I would help him find a family but, uh," Bucky trailed off, and Sam took that opportunity to slip his hand from under Bucky's so that he could intertwine his flesh fingers with his metal ones. Sam gripped his hand, and Bucky gripped it back.
"It was very disheartening," Bucky said, his voice low and ragged, "He kept getting turned away. He wasn't a bad kid or anything. He didn't do anything. But apparently, he just wasn't enough of a kid for people to adopt. Yeah," he added at Sam's shocked expression, "Potential parents really did say he didn't act like a kid."
"Did he hear them say that?"
Bucky hesitated. "I don't… think so. I hope not."
Sam nodded, his eyes glazing as his gaze slipped to the window next to them. "Was it a tough adoption process?"
"Yeah," he replied, holding Sam's hand a little tighter now, "Very much so. It was-" He had to clear his throat, fearing the possibility of tears streaming from his face- "A lot."
The other man didn't pull away from his grip. If anything, Sam leaned into it, his face hovering above the table. "But you did it. You're his father."
"And I couldn't be happier about how it turned out," Bucky said sincerely, and Sam laughed.
"You better be happy. RJ turned out to be a great kid by the looks of things," Sam added pointedly. From the amount of time Bucky had had the pleasure of talking to Sam, he had realized a habit that the man had. Sam never failed to bring up that Bucky's parenting wasn't the absolute worst thing to happen.
It didn't stop Sam from gently pointing out issues though, which was fine by Bucky.
Bucky squeezed his hand again, finding himself addicted to that small touch. "It was a hard mission. The things I saw in that place… but I don't regret going," Bucky said vehemently, "Even if that shit gives me nightmares, it gave me my son."
A silence fell between them, only punctured by the ambience of the shop. Their intertwined hands spoke louder than anything they could have said in that moment.
"Speaking of RJ, I should probably be heading home soon. I want to make it home for dinner." Even as he spoke, Bucky made no move to pull his hand back from Sam, so the expression on his face when Sam finally did pull back was nothing short of embarrassing.
"Right. Well, I won't keep you. I'm definitely looking forward to our second date, though," Sam said before winking and nearly stopping Bucky's heart.
"Yeah, uh- second date? I'm looking forward to that too," Bucky said way too quickly, trying not to stumble over every other word. What was happening to him? He had laid out all his flirting tricks way too early and now he was off his game.
"Maybe next time we'll get to the third base of trauma," Sam said as he pushed his chair back, slowly getting up. A laugh barked out of Bucky.
"Maybe. Let me walk you out."
Warmth pooled in his stomach as Sam looped his arm through his. The air outside was cool and clear, the slight breeze tousling Bucky's hair. The sun was out, but not at full force; it was just enough to warm his skin. Sam looked radiant in the soft light, his eyes sparkling.
"Do you need a ride home?" Bucky asked, turning to face Sam, who was already shaking his head.
"Nah, I have to meet up with Sarah close by, so I'm going to walk. And before you ask, no, I don't need you to walk me over there," Sam added, and Bucky's mouth snapped shut.
"Then I guess I'll see you. Hopefully soon."
"Hopefully," Sam murmured, and Bucky could tell that he was starting to pull away, starting to walk in the other direction. "Bye, Bucky."
"Can I kiss you?" Bucky blurted out, before internally slapping himself. His poise really did leave him after all. It was probably a good thing that Bucky had said that, though, because with the blinding smile that Sam flashed him right afterwards, he was pretty sure he lost his remaining vocabulary.
"Of course," Sam said, before leaning in.
Their lips met, and in the light of the sun, to the sound of the bell over the coffee shop's door, everything was good.