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They were gathered at the dining room table, the two children sent to bed not long ago. Sam, Sarah, and Bucky had their beers, Keys his glass of water, as he was still under drinking age. He sipped at the water quietly, not speaking but listening intently. Bucky vaguely noticed how loud their frequent raucous laughter had become, and how Keys’ jaw clenched ever so slightly at the noise—Bucky doubted that people without enhanced senses would even notice.
Sam was telling a story, making broad, sweeping gestures with beer still in hand, Bucky was smiling and laughing along. Sarah was too, but Keys’ small smile seemed a little too forced. Sam stood, still telling the story while he went to get another drink but his hand slipped and an unopened bottle fell from the counter to the ground with a crash that stung Bucky’s ears.
“Ah, damn, sorry about that. I’ll get a towel.”
Sarah sighed. “And a mop, please?”
Keys stood almost robotically from his chair, face a forced blank. Bucky’s eyes followed him as Keys’ mouth seemed to struggle to open before he could choke out an “Excuse me” and he speed-walked to the front door, closing it behind him.
Keys’ exit had gone largely unnoticed by Sam and Sarah, they were too busy with the broken glass.
Bucky got out of his chair as quietly as he could manage (which was pretty damn quiet, all things considered), watching for broken glass, and followed.
Keys wasn’t outside the front door, or anywhere in Bucky’s immediate eyesight, but his enhanced hearing picked up on a quiet sniffle around the back of the house. His concern growing, Bucky stopped trying to be quiet and just walked there normally. He didn’t want Keys to be surprised.
Hands in his pockets in an attempt to seem like less of a threat, Bucky poked his head around the corner, his eyebrows pushing closer together when he saw Keys.
The kid was curled up in a ball, arms around his knees, with his face hidden and back against the outer wall of the house. He sniffled every couple of seconds, and his body was shaking a little.
Bucky swallowed down the empathetic lump that was rising in his throat and knelt down several feet away from Keys.
There was no way that when Bucky was panicking that he wanted even the slightest invasion of personal space. It was doubtful that Keys would react even close to how Bucky would, but he respected the space anyway.
Keeping his voice quiet, Bucky said, “Were we too loud, or was there something else goin’ on for you already?”
Keys stilled, but didn’t say anything.
“Right, lump in your throat. Kinda hard to talk when you’ve been crying, huh?”
Keys nodded, his head still hidden behind his folded legs.
“Do you need anything? Tissues, water? I think I can ask Sarah to show me where the teabags are, I can make tea.”
At that, Keys lifted his head. He wasn’t making eye contact with Bucky (he never did anyway) but he was definitely looking at him. His face was blotchy and wet, squinting and eyebrows close together. His mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. After a couple of seconds of straining, he seemed to give up and his head dropped back down to rest on his knees.
“Something happen to your throat earlier? You were talking fine before.”
Keys shook his head.
“You just can’t get any words out?”
Keys nodded.
“Alright, I’ll be right back.”
Bucky stood and circled around to the front of the house.
Sam and Sarah were back at the table and confused when he came in, but he waved them off with a promise to explain later, grabbing his therapy notebook, pen, and Keys’ water.
When he got back to Keys he opened the notebook to the back page and handed it to him with the pen, still trying to keep some amount of distance between them. He set down the water next to Keys on the ground and backed up to sit in his original spot.
Keys stared at Bucky, some mix of shock and confusion on his face.
“What? You can’t talk, I gave you something to write in.”
Keys blinked slowly, still staring, his expression morphing to some kind of teary gratitude. He appeared to catch himself and looked down at the notebook, considering it for a moment before writing and showing it to Bucky.
No one has been this helpful before without having me explain first.
Bucky took a long breath, that lump in his throat making its dramatic return. “…Oh.”
And you didn’t get too close to me either, how did you know about that?
Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck, very much ignoring the growing impulse to become this kid’s personal bodyguard. “I, uh, I have panic attacks. Nightmares. I don’t really like people getting too close when I’m like that.”
Oh, I just sometimes can’t stand the texture of human skin.
Bucky let out a snort before he could catch himself.
I mean I guess there’s a significant element of panic but sometimes the texture is just evil. And some people stand too close anyway.
“Well, I guess I have this for a reason.” Bucky lifted his metal arm, stifling a sigh of relief when Keys cracked a small but genuine smile.
Metal texture is decidedly not evil, yes. Do you want me to explain what happened?
“I mean, I’m kinda curious, but you don’t have to explain.”
No, I don’t think I mind.
Keys was writing for a long while before he lifted up the notebook for Bucky again.
I have no idea how much you guys knew back in the forties, but I’m autistic, which I can probably explain more in-depth when I can speak and I can look up resources so I can word things better. I’m able to live on my own, personally, but I definitely have some worse days, problems that other people normally wouldn’t. Like right now I’m non-verbal, which happens if I get too stressed or something and I basically can’t make myself speak. I might yelp if I drop something, but that’s instinctual and I can’t really say anything of my own volition.
I believe what just happened was an autistic meltdown. Basically the buildup of all of the stress recently made certain sensory input - loud noises, certain textures in food, contact with other people’s skin - really mess with me. It kind of all built up, which I probably could have stopped earlier but I was just ignoring it, and eventually I had to come here and just let it all out, I guess. I don’t know how long it will be until I can speak, so you can probably just go back inside, I’m not really that entertaining to hang out with right now.
“No, I can stay out here, I don’t mind the quiet. If you want me to go, I can, though.”
You can stay. Keys was smiling softly as he held up the notebook. You don’t have to be that far away, either, I can manage it now.
“Alright.” Bucky sat beside Keys, making sure that his metal arm side was facing him. Keys smiled a little more, scooting closer to lean against his arm when he settled on the ground.
As I said, metal texture isn’t that bad.