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Bucky Barnes was used to being looked at like a ghost.
Moving through life as a former assassin meant he’d grown familiar—almost numb—to the fear in people’s eyes whenever they accidentally recognized him on the street. He never blamed them. Honestly, he thought most of them were right to react that way. He earned those stares. He deserved them. And at this point, he was pretty much immune.
The only place where people didn’t look at him like a walking nightmare was inside the Wilson household. Sam’s family treated him like he belonged, like he was just another relative dropping by for dinner. No suspicion, no pity, no fear. Just warmth. And while that made Bucky feel accepted in a way he wasn’t used to… he couldn’t deny it also unnerved him a little.
Maybe that’s why the look these children were giving him right now felt so bizarre.
“Can you lift a car with your robot arm, Mr. Bucky?” one gap-toothed boy asked, sitting cross-legged right in front of him. His friends leaned in, eyes wide, waiting for the answer like they were about to hear a superhero's secret.
Their eyes didn’t even blink.
Bucky exhaled slowly and forced a smile. “I can. Just… not in here.”
“Can you show us outside?” a little girl with cute pigtails chirped, and for a split second—an achingly sharp moment—Bucky was reminded of his own little sister.
“Sorry, no. Your teacher might yell at me.”
He glanced at Mrs. Roberta, the elderly homeroom teacher watching from the corner of the classroom, glasses slipping all the way down her nose. Next to her stood Yelena, grinning like an absolute menace and throwing him thumbs-up every few seconds.
‘You’re doing great, Sergeant!’ the blonde mouthed dramatically, clearly having the time of her life watching him suffer in front of this legion of curious elementary school kids.
“Mr. Bucky, why is your arm like that?” another boy asked. His glasses were a size too big, practically swallowing his whole face.
Bucky studied the kid for a moment. Still no fear. No disgust. Not even hesitation. These children were simply curious—open, bright, unfiltered. And for the fourth or fifth time today, something warm and painful twisted in Bucky’s chest.
But the story behind his vibranium arm was not exactly… child-friendly.
“Well…” he started, choosing his words with surgical precision. “I was fighting some really bad people who wanted to hurt a lot of innocent people. And during the mission, I fell off a train. That’s how I lost my arm.”
Because yeah, there was no way he was going to say, ‘Then Hydra kidnapped me and turned me into a weapon.’
“Whoa. Did it hurt?”
The question made Bucky let out a small, genuine smile.
“I honestly don’t remember. It was a long time ago. But it doesn’t hurt now.”
He laughed awkwardly, aware that if he kept talking about his trauma, the room would get way too heavy. And this event—The New Avengers' first “visit-and-inspire-the-children” school outreach—was supposed to be uplifting (or, as Ava had said with her usual dark humor, “a shameless attempt to win the hearts of tiny humans and improve public trust.”)
Either way, Bucky was here. And even if he didn’t volunteer for this gig, he still had to not look like the team’s resident brooding disaster.
“Mr. Barnes! Can you carry five of us with your metal arm?”
That came from a boy in the back, practically vibrating with excitement.
Bucky blinked. And then he smirked—because if there was one thing he couldn’t resist, it was a challenge.
“Of course I can.”
*
“So… I assume the school visit wasn’t as terrible as you thought?” Ava asked with a small, teasing smile the moment Bucky stepped back into the Watchtower. The afternoon sun was relentless outside, but somehow, that faint little smirk of hers—half genuine, half mocking—made the inside of Bucky’s head feel a bit less chaotic.
Not that he’d ever admit that to her. Or to anyone.
Well, even though he wasn’t good at hiding things with expressions like that anyway.
“Oh, you should’ve come, Ava! Bucky looked adorable trying to act like a teacher in front of those sweet little kids!” Yelena hollered, laughing as she clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to make him sway.
“Adorable? I was this close to running out of answers. Why do kids ask so many damn questions?” Bucky groaned, pretending to be frustrated—even though he’d actually enjoyed himself earlier. To sell the performance, he threw himself dramatically onto the couch, one arm draped over his face like he was seconds away from collapsing.
“That’s what kids do, Buck. You better get used to it.” Yelena plopped down beside him, already pulling out her tablet. “Let’s see… aha. Looks like we still have six visits left.”
Ava didn’t even bother hiding the laugh that slipped out when Bucky sat up in horror.
“Well then,” she declared brightly, “I’m definitely joining the next one!”
She was way too happy about his suffering, and Bucky thought she was joking.
Well, he should’ve known better.
The very next day, Ava showed up at the second elementary school—with Mel and Yelena already in on her plan. Ava had sworn on her life she wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t stand in front of the kids, wouldn’t participate in any way. She’d just watch from the back and escape if someone so much as looked at her.
But everyone knew the truth: Ava came solely to watch Bucky flail around kids again.
So when Bucky stood in front of the class and found a sea of bright, unblinking eyes staring straight at him… cold sweat instantly ran down his spine.
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Yelena whispered—not encouraging him whatsoever.
Bucky shot her a murderous side-eye before glancing toward Ava. She gave him a small, gentle smile. And just like always, as if the universe itself conspired against him, a swarm of butterflies erupted in his stomach—warm, ridiculous, unstoppable—just from that smile alone.
The once confident Sergeant Barnes fought so hard to not grinning like an idiot just from that smile.
After Bucky introduced himself and The New Avengers, a dozen tiny hands shot up at once. They were ruthless. No questions were optional. No mercy.
“Mr. Bucky, is it true the new Avengers are trash? I heard my mom say that this morning.”
Oh.
Oh, hell.
He had not prepared for that one.
“Well… what do you think?” he asked carefully.
The boy—Rick, according to his name tag—scrunched up his face, thinking hard before announcing, “Um… I don’t think you’re trash. I think you’re cool! I saw you stop a flipping truck with your robot arm on the news. That was awesome!”
“Yeah! I saw that too!” another kid chimed in—then suddenly the whole class erupted.
“Your arm is so cool!”
“I want a robot arm like that!”
“Can you shoot lasers from it, Mr. Bucky?”
“Does it have rockets like Iron Man’s?”
“Have you ever killed someone with it, Mr. Bucky?”
Bucky stopped breathing for exactly three seconds. The last question hit Bucky like a knife to the chest.
It came from a tiny girl in the front row—soft voice, bright green eyes—and yet it landed with the force of a bullet. For a moment, Bucky blinked, trying to force a smile even though the air in the room suddenly turned thick and awkward. The kids didn’t feel it—they were still buzzing with excitement—but every adult behind them had gone wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
Bucky’s gaze flicked toward Ava and Yelena. Both were frozen with their mouths slightly open. But then Ava met his eyes, gave him a tiny smile, and dipped her head in a quiet, steady you’ve got this.
That was all Bucky needed.
“Okay, that’s… quite the question,” he said lightly, trying to read the name on the little girl’s name tag.
“Rachel,” the girl corrected, making Bucky huff a small, amused breath.
“Hi, Rachel.” Bucky inhaled slowly, carefully—searching for the right words for an eight-year-old who had no idea she’d just stepped on a landmine.
“Tell me something, Rach. Have you ever done something you felt embarrassed about?”
Rachel blinked. Hard. One hand automatically reached for the end of her ponytail, twisting it nervously.
“Have any of you ever done something really embarrassing,” Bucky continued, turning to the rest of the class, “something you really didn’t want anyone to find out?”
“Oh! Michael peed his pants in gym class once,” a boy announced proudly. Next to him, a kid—presumably Michael—looked absolutely betrayed.
“That’s because you told everyone, Tommy!”
“Well, you peed right in front of me!”
“But I said don’t tell anyone!”
Bucky couldn’t help laughing. Partly because children were unbelievably pure. And partly because thank god the tension had broken—it had gotten a little too real after Rachel’s question.
“Okay, okay, I get it,” he said, still smiling. “See? Stuff like that happens. You spill food on your shirt, you trip in front of your friends, maybe you’ve got something stuck on your face and you don’t notice—embarrassing moments are part of being human.”
He hoped the message landed. Based on their attentive little faces, it seemed like it did.
“Well, I’m just like you guys,” Bucky said gently. He lifted his metal arm, flexing the fingers so they caught the light.
“This arm… it’s seen things. Bad things. Things I used to feel ashamed of. Things I didn’t want anyone to know.
Quiet fell over the room—not tense, just thoughtful. Bucky didn’t feel awkward. He felt… surprisingly steady.
And when he glanced at Ava, she was watching him with her arms folded and this proud, focused look on her face—one that made something warm and painful twist in his chest.
And for a moment his whole world stops spinning.
“But that doesn’t mean I should spend my whole life hating myself for what happened,” he continued softly. “I can’t let my past stop me from becoming someone better. So I try to do good things now. I try to help people. Because we shouldn’t live trapped in old mistakes—we should focus on doing good in the present.”
Bucky took a deep breath.
“So even if you’ve done something embarrassing or something you regret, don’t let it drag you down forever. Focus on what you can do today. Do cool things. Do kind things. And hey—keep your head up, okay, Michael?”
Michael, who had been listening with saucer-wide eyes, nodded energetically.
“And I hope that answers your question, Rachel,” Bucky said, turning back to her with a soft, reassuring smile.
Rachel nodded too—bright-eyed, understanding in her own childlike way.
Of course, Bucky’s answer hadn’t directly addressed her original question. It wasn’t like he could say, ‘Yes, I’ve killed people with this arm,’ to a bunch of elementary schoolers. But judging by the looks in their eyes… the kids understood the heart of what he meant.
And then—out of nowhere—someone started clapping.
Bucky didn’t know who did it first. But suddenly all the kids were applauding, grinning ear to ear. Behind them, Mr. Johnson, Ava, Yelena, and several PR staff members joined in too.
It was strange. Unfamiliar, even. But Bucky felt something warm spread through his chest, something he hadn’t expected at all.
Maybe talking to kids wasn’t so bad. Maybe… it even felt a little good.
*
“That was incredible. Seriously beautiful. I completely misjudged you, Sergeant Barnes!”
“Please don’t start, Yelena.” Bucky let out a long, slow sigh—but he still took the beer she shoved into his hand, because at this point resistance was pointless.
“What? I’m complimenting you! You were basically Dr. Phil up there. We should totally make a motivational show—Barnes Inspires America or whatsoever—on YouTube to boost The New Avengers’ credibility.”
“That’s actually a brilliant idea,” Ava chimed in from across the pantry table, looking far too pleased with herself. “People would eat it up. And Bucky’s face is marketable enough to pull in a massive audience.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow at her, suspicion and resignation mixing into one expression.
“Hard pass, Ava. I’m not cut out to be a YouTuber or whatever the hell you’re imagining.”
“I’m just saying,” she shrugged casually. “Girls, boys—every demographic is going to adore seeing your broody face on a screen giving heartfelt pep talks. Plus, it makes us look good as a team. Inspirational superhero PR? It’s a win-win.”
“Ava, you're a genius!” Yelena lit up like someone had plugged her into a wall socket. She clapped excitedly, while Bucky just groaned and dragged his metal hand down his face.
“Wait here—I’m going to get John and Bob. We need an emergency meeting! Oh! And Alexei too!”
The second the thought hit her, she bolted out of the pantry like a missile, leaving Bucky behind to drown in the sudden existential crisis swelling in his chest. Ava didn’t even try to hide her laughter.
“This is bad. I’m putting in for early retirement,” Bucky groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
Ava’s voice softened unexpectedly as her hand brushed over his—just a fleeting touch on the pantry table, barely a second long, but enough to short-circuit every neuron in Bucky’s brain.
“Hey… it’s really not that bad. I liked what you said today,”
A pause lingers between them. “It… actually made me feel better about myself too. So thank you, James.”
The moment she said his first name made Bucky’s eyes widened.
Ava only used James in three very specific situations: when she was pissed at him, when she was drunk out of her mind, or when she was letting him see the raw, unguarded version of herself.
And right now?
She wasn’t mad.
She definitely wasn’t drunk.
Which meant this—her tone, her words—was real.
A warm smile tugged at Bucky’s lips before he could stop it. Something inside him unclenched. Without thinking, pure, gentleman instinct, he reached across the table and wrapped his fingers around hers, holding her hand firmly.
This time, Ava didn’t pull away. She let their hands stay together, her thumb brushing lightly against his. And that’s when she showed him her face—softening in a way she rarely allowed anyone to see.
“My very pleasure, Miss Starr,” he murmured.
Ava scoffed, rolling her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her completely.
And just as the moment settled into something warm and dangerously close to tender, chaos broke through the pantry door like thunder.
“Where’s our future motivational superstar?!” Alexei yelled triumphantly. “I already called Dr. Phil’s team—THEY’RE WILLING TO HELP PRODUCE THE SHOW!”