Chapter Text
Bucky's not sure when the silence of his apartment started to get to him. Maybe it was when he came home from fighting the Banshees when the silence made his ears ring, or maybe it was when he woke up in the middle of the night for 3rd time this week and heard nothing but the sounds of the city out his window. Either way, it's starting to become a problem.
Bucky has never been the biggest fan of crowds or people or noise, at least not since before the draft, but even he is starting to feel a tad concerned for himself when he comes home to the silence. That's what strikes the memory, so stupid and insignificant that he hadn't bothered to ponder on it until now.
Once upon a time, what felt like lifetimes ago to Bucky, there had been a small runt of a cat that lived in the alley behind the apartment building he lived in as a child. It wasn't a beautiful cat, wiry and almost always dirtied with soot, but it was kind and loved to sit outside of Bucky's window in the Brooklyn sunshine. Bucky's family didn't tend to have much in the way of extra food or leftovers, but that never stopped him from saving a bite or two of his supper and leaving it out for his newest friend. Bucky spent a few months befriending the kitten before he was allowed the privilege of some head scratches, on the cat's schedule of course. As time passed and the cat realized Bucky was no danger to itself, it would lie against the boy when he sat out on the fire escape in the evenings, revelling in the warmth of a setting sun or bringing a blanket for the both of them as the evenings brought a chill. Even as a young boy, Bucky knew naming the cat was a silly thing to do, but he couldn't help himself from fondly referring to the fur ball as Bentley.
Even now, Bucky can't be certain what happened to Bentley or when he stopped appearing outside of his window, but he feels the pull in his chest towards the companionship offered by a beloved pet. With his newfound memory and lifelong dream of having a cat to keep him company, Bucky sets out to accomplish just that.
On a rare day off from missions and training, he scours website after website of any and every animal shelter and cat rescue anywhere near him in DC. He isn't sure what exactly he's looking for, but Joaquín had been talking about something called the "cat distribution system" and Bucky is convinced he'll know as soon as he sees his destined companion.
He spends almost the entire day just looking at photos of different cats available for adoption, and he's almost drawn to contacting a few of them, but he's never able to convince himself that any of the adorable cats are the one for him. He gives up on his search for today to begin preparing for his next mission in a few days.
Going over a mental checklist of everything he'll have to do beforehand - clean his tactical gear, refresh his equipment, possibly refill his kitchen with groceries that definitely was not neglected the last few weeks - as he paces around his apartment. Bucky's not often one for sitting still when it's not required, and the pacing usually helps him keep his mind focused on the task at hand. This level of intense focus is probably what causes the man to take 15 minutes of non-stop noise for him to notice something is wrong, even with the enhanced, super-soldier hearing.
The original to-do list is immediately forgotten in favor of Bucky straining his ears to determine where exactly the odd crying noises could be coming from. He's never heard a baby crying, or any noise relating to a baby really, coming from any of the apartments near him, which does not help the confusion he feels at hearing what are definitely meek, quiet cries from somewhere in the alley behind the building.
The super-soldier follows the noise downstairs and tries to locate any possible sources between the dumpsters and soggy cardboard boxes, leftover from a recent drizzle. When he's unable to see any people in the area that could explain what he heard, let alone any young children, Bucky starts to give up and assume the perpetrator has already left the area.
There, again, he hears it coming from under a particularly destroyed cardboard box that appears to have been at some point filled with some thin rope, or maybe string?
There is no longer any apprehension in Bucky's stance as he walks over to the area, if it were an enemy or something dangerous they'd have easily already come at him, plus he's not able to picture a sound so pitiful coming from something he'd consider a foe.
The man gets to the box and tries to move what he can as it slowly falls apart further, disintegrating in his hand. The cries are becoming louder as he digs and he's seconds from placing the noise when he sees it. A cat.
The thing looks like it had to be the runt of the litter. The fur seems long even for what he has to guess is a young kitten, and he can't quite tell if the creature is incredibly dirty or if its fur is actually the color of dirty, brown water that runs towards the drains after a rainstorm. The brunette is so startled by his revelation that it takes him a full minute to realize why the creature had been meowing non-stop for at least the past 20 minutes. It was stuck, or more accurately tangled to the point of no return, in the rope that had previously occupied the cardboard box. Unsure how the kitten had managed to get himself into this predicament, Bucky went about trying to free him from his constraints without causing any stress or pain.
It took a bit of negotiation between a super-soldier and a thin piece of rope, but eventually the kitten was free and staring directly into Bucky's ice-blue eyes. It's in this moment that he understands why none of those perfectly adoptable cats on the shelter and rescue websites had felt right, it was because he was always going to come down here and find what might be the most ridiculous creature he's ever met. The man is convinced he'll never understand how something so small managed to become so entangled in a simple rope to be that stuck, but he's almost glad for it and the new roommate that the universe has dropped in his lap.
Bucky brings the freezing little one up to his apartment before realizing he is unimaginably unprepared to be responsible for a living creation in his care. He doesn't have the food, the supplies, the toys, nothing! But all of that feels irrelevant as the thoughts in his mind begin to dissipate while he washes the kitten, coming face to face with what seems to be the most manipulative, yet adorable, look that could possibly come from an animal this young. Maybe the brunette isn't as prepared as he'd like to be on any regular mission, but he has already decided that he's willing to burn every bridge for his new pal, which feels like enough to Bucky.
"I am well aware you have no idea what I'm saying to you," he begins, "but I don't even know what your name should be, and I have exactly 0 of the supplies you'll need. But I guess we'll just have to figure this out together, huh?" And from the resulting head tilt, slow blink, and soft meow, Bucky almost feels like the kitten understood and even agreed with his simple sentiment.