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Steve is innocently picking up his prescription when he hears it. A sniffle.
He valiantly tries to ignore it as he gives the pharmacist his copay- 95 bucks for a drug he needs to live, fucking ridiculous- when he hears it again. Steve sighs inwardly and berates himself for not being able to leave well enough alone and decides to investigate the nearby aisles for the source of the sound.
He can almost hear Sam’s voice in his head accusing him of being too damn good for your own damn good, Steven. But, well, Sam’s not here.
He locates the source by the travel-sized toiletries. There's a little girl, no more than 6, angrily wiping away tears from her face and muttering to herself. She has bright red hair and is wearing a fluffy pink tutu. Steve takes a step towards her and her head snaps up.
“Who are you?” She demands, eyes narrowing.
“Uh. I'm Steve.” Steve says awkwardly. “Are you lost?” He asks, trying to sound friendly.
“No.” The girl spits out, crossing her arms petulantly. Then she uncrosses them guiltily and looks down, fiddling with the pink ribbon in her hair. “My daddy is.” She sniffles again rubs at her eyes.
“Okay honey,” Steve says, panicking a little because he does not know what to do with an upset child. “It's okay, you don't have to cry.”
The girl drops her hand to scowl at him. “‘M not cryin’.” She mutters and Steve has to suppress a smile because hey, this kid reminds him of himself.
“Okay, I’m sorry I said you were crying. Can I help you find your daddy?” He asks, crouching down to her level, which is embarrassingly close to his regular height.
The kid gives him an appraising look, and Steve can't help but feel he’s being sized up. “‘M not suppose’ta go with strangers unless I can beat them in a fight.” She crosses her arms again and looks him dead in the eye. “I think I can beat you.”
Steve chuckles to himself and shakes his head. “Sad thing is, you're probably right.” He stands and his knees pop loudly in protest. “Don't tell anybody I said that, though.” Steve tells her, and the kid shrugs like ‘maybe I will, maybe I won't’.
Steve offers a hand and the girl takes it, smiling at him a little for the first time.
“What’s your name?” Steve asks, letting himself be lead by the tiny ballerina.
“I'm Natasha.” The girl says. “My daddy’s name is Bucky. He’s really tall and handsome and has long dark hair and blue eyes and one arm, okay?”
“O-okay.” Steve stutters out at the flood of information. One arm? Did he hear that right?
“Are you sick?” Natasha asks, suddenly turning down the DVD aisle for no apparent reason.
“What?” Steve asks, confused at the sudden change in both topic and direction.
“Are. You. Sick?” Natasha says impatiently, weaving through shelves and dragging Steve helplessly behind her. “You have a bag for medicine, right? So are you sick?”
Steve remembers that he has his pharmacy doggy bag in the hand that's not holding Natasha’s and absently tucks it into his hoodie pocket. “Uh, yeah.” He taps his chest. “I've got a heart condition.”
Natasha stops and frowns at him for a second before scrunching up her face and pulling Steve along. “Do you eat Cheerios?” She asks and Steve grins.
“Yeah.” He tells her. “Yeah I eat Cheerios.”
“Good.” She says seriously. “My daddy has to take medicine for when his brain is sick but there's no cereal for that.”
No there isn't, Steve thinks.
“Tasha!” He can hear from a few aisles away, and Natasha stops, looking around.
“Daddy?” She calls out, sounding much younger than she has so far.
“ Natasha !” The voice yells again, this time less panicked and more relieved.
“Daddy!” Natasha squeals, and takes off running with Steve in tow.
They get to the candy aisle and there, standing in the middle of all the gummy worms, is a tall, handsome, dark haired, one armed man with wide blue eyes clutching a shopping basket in one hand.
Natasha lets go of Steve’s hand and darts forward to her father, who quickly drops the basket and goes to his knees, grabbing Natasha in a tight embrace.
Steve stands there watching as Natasha clutches on to the man's shirt as he shakes slightly, rubbing his face over his daughter’s hair, making a few strands fall loose from where it's all tied up with her ribbon.
Finally, they release hold of each other and the man starts lightly scolding. At first, Steve thinks he can't understand because of the low volume, but then he realizes that Natasha’s father is speaking Russian. Natasha starts scolding him back, even making the same wagging finger motion and everything. Eventually, the man just squeezes her again, pressing kisses all over her face.
“Don't do that to me again, sweetheart, okay? You almost gave me a fuc- a freakin’ heart attack.” He mutters to her, still cupping her face with his one hand.
“That's okay, you can just borrow Steve’s medicine!” Natasha says brightly, and her father looks up, glancing at Steve like he’s noticing that he's there for the first time.
Steve waves awkwardly, because that's who he is as a person. The guy stands and walks over to Steve, Natasha trailing after him, holding his empty shirt sleeve.
“Thanks for lookin’ after my kid.” Says Hot Dad, holding out his hand.
Steve takes it, shaking it. “I think she was more looking out for me, really.”
Hot Dad grins. “I'm Bucky. Bucky Barnes.” He says, and in this lighting it almost looks like he’s blushing. Steve notices how his bun matches Natasha’s right down to the pink bow.
“Steve Rogers.” Steve replies, realizing he’s still holding onto Bucky’s hand.
They both let go kind of awkwardly.
“Sorry. My mind gets away from me sometimes and five-year-old’s get distracted easily. I shoulda known we weren't Target-ready.” Bucky sighs, leaning down to pick Natasha up. Natasha clings to his flannel, burying her face in Bucky’s chest contentedly. Steve thinks that if he had the chance to do the same, he'd be pretty damn content too.
“Anyway, thanks for watching my Nat. You really didn't have to, so it was good of ya. I don't know who let me be dad, but it musta been a huge oversight on their part, since I can't even buy socks without losing a whole damn kid. So, yeah, thanks for-” Bucky cuts himself off, chuckling self-consciously at his ramblings.
“Jesus, I'm a mess, ain't I? Um. Thanks, Steve Rogers.” He says shifting Natasha on his hip. She wraps her arms around his neck so that he can lean down and grab his basket.
“You have a nice day. Thanks again.” Bucky says, and Steve realizes he's just been staring.
Bucky and Natasha are turning around when Steve blurts out: “You're not a bad dad!” And then puts his face in his hands, because seriously? Why does he ever talk?
Bucky turns back, looking slightly bewildered. He opens his mouth to say something but must change his mind.
“I mean-” Steve starts. “Once my mom left me at the grocery store without realizing it until she got home, and she was basically the best mom ever. It's okay to make mistakes, and look, you obviously care and your daughter’s a great kid, and like I don't know you, but it's just really clear to me that you're not a bad dad. Someone please say something for the love of God, I'm still talking.”
Steve could feel himself turning bright red as both of the Barnes’ stare at him.
Natasha starts climbing her way onto Bucky’s shoulders, and Steve winces in sympathy as Bucky gets a knee in the kidney. Once she's comfortably on top of Bucky’s shoulders, she leans down to look Bucky in the face.
“Daddy?” She says, sounding serious even though she’s practically hanging over backwards.
“Yes, little spider?” Bucky asks with equal amounts of seriousness.
“‘M sorry I wandered off. I just wanted to look at the tiny shampoo bottles.”
“Do you want some tiny shampoo bottles?”
“No, I jus’ wanted to hold them cus they make me feel giant.”
“Oh okay.” Bucky says. “You just gotta remember that daddy’s not as smart as you, kiddo. He doesn't remember stuff all that good.”
Natasha cupped Bucky’s face with both her hands and kissed his nose. “That's okay, Daddy. One day you’ll get there.” Then she straightened, grabbing on to Bucky’s hair as an anchor.
Bucky turned to him and opened his mouth to say something, but Natasha cut him off. “You should have dinner with us.”
“Only if your dad says-” Steve starts at the same time as Bucky says, “Tasha, I’m sure Mr. Rogers has other plans-”
“So you can come?” Natasha says excitedly, clutching onto Bucky’s hair so tight that he started slightly. “Great! Daddy makes the best pasta.”
Bucky laughs a little quietly to himself and looks up at Steve, raising his eyebrow. “It is pretty good. If I do say so myself.”
Steve smiles at him, scratching the back of his head. “Spaghetti?” He asks.
Bucky shakes his head, moving Natasha slightly with the motion. “Ravioli.”
“Oh, even better.” Steve says, laughing.
Natasha mutters something in Russian to Bucky and he nods, letting her slide down. She lands gracefully and looks up at Bucky, who smiles at her. “Go on,” He says, nodding.
Natasha, suddenly shy, shuffles over to Steve and reaches up her arms in the universal child signal to be picked up. Steve complies and Natasha throws her arms around his next in a hug. “Thank you for helping me find my daddy.” She mumbles.
“No problem, Nat.” He says and blushes when she lays a smacking kiss on his cheek.
“Kay, put me down.” She says, tapping his shoulder.
Steve chuckles and complies, setting her back down on the floor. She walks back over to Bucky and holds his sleeve. Bucky smiles down at her fondly then glances up at Steve. “We still gotta get stuff for ravioli. You wanna join us?”
Steve smiles. “I’d love to.”
Later, after ravioli and dishes and story and bedtime, after Natasha jumps on Bucky’s bed and wakes up Steve and Bucky, after hasty dressing and answering uncomfortable questions, Natasha makes sure that they have cheerios for breakfast.