Work Text:
He couldn’t get her face out of his mind.
Bucky shook his head, frustrated with his inability to control his own thoughts. I’m losing my touch. Or my mind. Or both. There hadn't been many advantages to being a brainwashed Russian assassin, but tuning out the noise in his head was definitely one of them.
His muscles ached, screaming yet another reminder of the battle last week. Sleepless nights hadn’t given his body much of a chance to recover.
He stuffed what was left of his meager belongings into a duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder before giving the hotel room the once-over to make sure nothing was left behind.
Not that he had anything important to forget; everything he’d ever had that meant anything to him was gone.
He picked up his phone and opened his contacts. He quickly scrolled past the emergency contacts—a lot of good they’d do him now—and tapped on the name he’d been thinking about for days. He quickly typed out the text and hit send before he could talk himself out of it.
“Would it be okay if I stop by for a few minutes?”
A worm of anxiety wiggled in his stomach, and he ignored it,exiting the room and locking the door behind him. His phone chirped in his pocket, and he pulled in deep breath at the reply.
“Sure, we’re home."
No turning back now.
***
He almost did a one-eighty and sent his bike in the other direction at top speed, but he owed it to Tony to do this much.
The door opened before he even knocked, and he gave Pepper a thin-lipped smile, fist hovering awkwardly in the air. “Um…hi.”
“Hi, Bucky.” Pepper looked tired. The dark circles beneath her eyes told him that she’d probably gotten less sleep than himself. Yet she still managed to offer him a small smile. “Won’t you come in?”
He cleared his throat and followed her into the house, marveling at the fact that her billionaire husband had actually built it in the middle of nowhere. He supposed that it really shouldn’t surprise him, yet it still didn’t seem quite Tony’s style.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Pepper ushered him into a spacious living room—a room he hadn’t seen since the funeral. And without the crying people and numerous sympathy casseroles, it somehow felt…cold.
“No, I’m…I’m good, thanks.” He cleared his throat again and shifted from foot to foot, not wanting to sit down for fear that he’d just get anxious and end up hopping back up within five seconds anyway. “I just…um…I just wanted to give you something. For…for Morgan.”
Pepper’s face split into a real smile this time. “That’s sweet. She’s playing in the other room.” She turned to the open doorway and raised her voice. “Morgan, c’mere, sweetheart; Bucky has something for you.”
It was all he could do to force his feet to stay where they were. “It’s—it's okay, I can just give it to you; I have to get going.” He pulled a brown paper-wrapped package out of his jacket and began to hand it to Pepper when a small curly-headed mop walked shyly into the room.
“Morgan, remember Bucky?” Pepper turned an apologetic smile at Bucky when Morgan hid behind her legs. “Sorry, she’s normally not shy like this, but…” her voice trailed off, and she sobered. “Morgan, he has something to give you.”
Bucky squatted down to the girl’s eye level and held out the package, hoping she wouldn’t notice the way his hands trembled.
“Go ahead, Morgan.” Pepper’s voice was soft, and she gently pried the girl’s hands from around her knees. “It’s all right.”
Morgan slowly, reluctantly reached out a chubby hand and accepted the gift, never taking her eyes off Bucky’s face. It unnerved him, to have a child outstare him.
Pepper bent over and helped Morgan tear the paper, gasping when she found what was inside. “Oh, Bucky.”
“I…she probably has a whole collection.” Bucky stood back up to his full height and moved to the door as subtly as he could. He turned all the more uncomfortable when he saw the tears in Pepper’s eyes. “I’m—I’m sorry, it-it was a bad idea,” he stammered. It was too soon, the wounds were too fresh. He should’ve known better. Idiot, idiot, idiot.
“No.” Pepper interrupted his thoughts. She caressed Morgan’s hair affectionately with a wistful glance. “As surprising as it may be, Tony never let her keep any Iron Man memorabilia. Said he wanted her to have as close to a ‘normal’ life as she could get. This…this is really nice.” She came closer and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Bucky.”
That was it. He had to leave. “You’re welcome.” He never uttered the two words faster, hooking a thumb toward the door. “I gotta…” ‘ I gotta get out of here’ didn’t seem like the appropriate thing to say, so he let his voice trail off.
“I’ll walk you out.” She followed him before his tired brain could figure out some kind of response to the negative. Once they were out on the porch, she opened her mouth to speak but was abruptly interrupted when her cell phone rang. “Excuse me for a minute, Bucky.”
This is it. It’s your chance to leave. But he was here, and he was following through—and that meant not rudely leaving like a skittish animal. So he awkwardly stood there, waiting, as Pepper strode a few steps away to answer the call.
Her face looked serious—too serious—when she approached him again. “Something came up at the company. I need to go take care of it.” She bit her lip with a worried glance at the house. “But I can’t take Morgan with me this time. It’s…an emergency.” She turned her eyes toward Bucky, pleading without words.
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. “I…could probably stay with her. For a little while.” Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to.” The relief apparent in Pepper’s face and voice belied her words. “Are you sure?”
“My bike is right here…” He nodded in the vehicle’s direction and dug into his pocket for the keys. “You…you might get there faster. Since you’re still driving that minivan.” You are such an idiot.
Pepper chuckled, even as she obviously fought tears again. “Part of Tony’s ‘normal life’ idea.” She accepted the keys and ran back to the house to say goodbye to Morgan, then returned and swung a leg over the bike. “I promise I’ll take good care of it.”
With one last “thank you” she was gone, taking Bucky’s bike with her. You’ve gotten soft, Barnes. But in all honesty, it wasn't the bike he was most worried about in this whole situation.
He turned and slowly walked back to the house, feet heavy. When he opened the door, Morgan stood there in the middle of the floor, staring at him. Well, this is off to a fantastic start. She clutched the Iron Man action figure to her chest.
“Do you want to…color or something?”
She just stared. This was going nowhere.
He sighed and bent down to scoop her into his arms. This was Tony Stark’s child; there was no using in trying to cajole her into talking if she didn’t want to.
She immediately shoved against him, kicking, until he set her back on the floor. “You’re not my daddy!” She ran out of the room.
An ache began to throb in his forehead. What would Tony do? He closed his eyes with a long sigh before attempting to find the child. He toyed with the idea of letting Morgan sulk by herself until she got bored and came out of hiding, but one mental image of Pepper's face nixed that idea. He searched for a good ten minutes before discovering the girl underneath her bed. “Morgan, it’s okay, I’m just here to keep you company while your mom’s gone.”
She stared at him. He was getting really tired of that stare. Well, two can play this game. He laid out on the floor next to the bed and folded his hands on his chest, returning her stare, unblinking.
He didn’t know how long they remained in the stalemate, but before too long she began to squirm. “Are you ready to come out?” he asked.
"I’m hungry.”
“Me too. If you’ll come out here, we’ll raid the kitchen.” Food. Food was Tony's weakness. Food was every living child's weakness. Surely this would work.
At first, she didn’t move, but eventually, she slowly edged closer, grunting with the effort, and he saw that she was pulling herself with one arm. The other, he realized, still clutched the figurine. His headache intensified. Would she even remember her dad? He swallowed against the lump in his throat and helped her crawl the last couple of feet.
Then she crawled into his lap.
All air left his lungs, and he froze. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached. She’s just missing her dad. He cleared his throat and maneuvered her next to him so he could swing his legs underneath him to stand. “Uh…do you want me to…carry you?”
She nodded, looking up at him expectantly. James Buchanan Barnes, you’re in for it now. He picked her up to settle her in his arms like a baby and stared down at her. She scowled and wriggled until he set her down again. Good grief, kid, what do you want?
She crawled onto her bed, stood, and held out her arms to him. She’s worse than a woman. He moved to pick her up again, but when a harsh “no!” scolded him, he let out an exasperated sigh. “Would you make up your mind?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her feet to wrap her legs around his waist.
“Oh…this is how you…like to be carried?” He stiffly walked to the door. Her arms began to slip. “Is this how your mom carries you?”
She gave him a look that said you clearly have no experience, bonehead . “Arms.” The word was sassy, as if he should know exactly what she meant before she even said it.
“Yeah, I know. Your arms are slipping.”
She shook her head, clearly frustrated. “No, your arms.”
“My—” he broke off and looked at his hands, then at her, and then realization dawned. “Oh, you want me to…” He wrapped her arms awkwardly around her back and underneath her bottom. “Like this?”
She didn’t reply, just laid her head on his shoulder.
His eyes burned and his throat ached. He shouldn’t be here. This wasn’t his job. And yet, it was because of people like him that her daddy wasn't here to do it himself.
Your fault, your fault, your fault, his mind taunted. He didn’t realize that his arms stiffened until Morgan grunted. He clenched his teeth and headed back to the kitchen, stomach in a knot so tight that he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to eat anything. I’m sorry, Morgan. I’m so sorry.