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Socializing. It was a thing. It wasn’t necessarily a good thing, at least not for Bucky, but he was told -- multiple times -- that it was absolutely critical for his daughter. If his mother came over once more time to ask him what he’d done recently, he was going to have to… yeah, whatever. He was socializing, see? Single-parent play date.
Bucky leaned back against the plastic-padded benches lining the “play area” and turned Tash loose. He glazed out, not really looking, just keeping half an eye on his tiny red-haired daughter as she squealed and ran rampant over a ton of squishy-plastic decorations and slid down a slide shaped like a pirate’s ship and crawled through a tunnel that looked very like a whale. He had his resting bitch face on (he was told multiple times by his sister that he could kill a man with that stare) and was anticipating nothing more exciting than Tash falling on her head and screaming for a while, because she did that.
“Oh god,” someone said, flopping down next to him, and Bucky actually looked, because he hadn’t heard an adult male voice in ages. “You have got to save me.”
“I do?” Bucky almost laughed, the idea of him saving anyone was ridiculous.
“Come on, man,” the guy said, and Bucky was astonished by how good looking he was. “There’s nothing more like crack for playgroup moms than a single dad, and I swear, if I have to get the you’re such a good father speech again, for just being a goddamn parent, I’m going to… well, do something stupid. It’s kinda my schtick.”
“Oh, god, that.” Bucky leaned his head back against the worn plastic. He’d gone through that, too, although his resting bitch face kept it to a minimum. As long as he wasn’t smiling, he didn’t look all that much like someone up for social engagement. And he didn’t get it much here, at the play area, but god, when he took Tash to ballet classes. Nightmare. Sure, if he’d been looking to score, there was more than ample available pussy. He’d actually had to break down and have a conversation with Mrs. Nelson, because she was not only making it perfectly clear that she was available, she’d been putting her hands on Bucky’s thigh and had actually groped his ass a few weeks back when he was chasing after Tash’s ballet shoes, which was so inappropriate, he couldn’t see straight.
“So,” the man said, keeping his voice low. “My name’s Tony.”
“Bucky,” Bucky introduced himself. “The little red-headed menace is my daughter…” He scoped the play area and caught a glimpse of Tash talking earnestly with a curly-haired boy.
“Oh, heh, she’s with my son,” Tony said. “Bruce.”
“Cute kid,” Bucky said, which the boy was; the curling hair gave him an impish appearance and unlike most of the other kids, Bruce was sitting calmly, while -- apparently -- Tash was talking him through how to tie his shoes. She’d just learned the trick of it a few days ago and was untying Bucky’s shoes on a regular basis just so she could tie them up again. It was adorable, right up until she got bored with it and Bucky didn’t notice his shoe was undone again before nearly tripping over something.
Tony was craning his neck, staring around, and -- “shit, excuse me,” and he jumped up, crossed the play area in about five long strides and reached for a sandy-haired boy who’d managed to climb up the whale-tunnel and was currently perched about eight feet up. The boy took one look at Tony and started scrambling backward until he was well out of reach.
Bucky heaved himself up. “Where’d this circus monkey come from?” He laced his fingers together and offered Tony a leg up, which Tony took, getting an extra two feet, and grabbing the boy. Bucky got a good eyeful of long, lean leg and then Tony was climbing down him like he was a tree, holding a squirming little boy, maybe a year older than Tash.
“This is my other son, Clint,” Tony said, holding the struggling boy. “Clint, come on, baby, you know we agreed you weren’t supposed to climb up on stuff anymore, it’s dangerous. You could hurt yourself.”
Tash was tugging on Bucky’s pant’s leg, then. “Doing?”
“I’m helping Bruce’s dad --” and Bucky pointed to the other little boy, because Tash rarely asked anyone’s name, remembered them not at all, and often failed to understand that other people had names at all “-- get Bruce’s brother down from the top of the whale.”
Clint kicked and squirmed until Tony either had to put him down or risk a concussion. The boy folded his arms over his chest and glared up at Tony. “You gonna hit me now?”
Tony heaved a big sigh, then plastered a very friendly-seeming smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know I’m not,” he said, softly. “We’ve talked about this, haven’t we? Hitting’s not appropriate punishment. But you did climb up on the whale, after I specifically told you not to --”
“You said the bench-rail,” Clint pointed out. “You said I couldn’t climb up on the back of the seats, you didn’t say nothin’ about climbing on the whale!”
Bucky squirmed inwardly, uncomfortable. There were a whole list of people-types he didn’t want to be, and this was hitting on like eight of them at once. He didn’t want to be That Parent who jumped to conclusions and offered unwanted advice or criticism (he’d had it up to his chin with That Parent, he kept running into them everywhere.) He also didn’t want to be That Guy who walked away from what could possibly be an abusive situation without getting involved. The world had enough bystander syndrome.
“All hail the pedant,” Tony said, rolling his eyes. “You’re old enough, now, Clint, to draw conclusions. If you think I don’t want you on the back of the chairs, does it escape your notice that I probably don’t want you on the whale, as well?”
“But you --”
“Ut!” Tony held up one hand, sharply. “Did you, or did you not know that you shouldn’t climb up the whale?”
Clint hung his head, staring at his shoes. “I knew.”
“All right, then. That’s good. That’s progress. Now, I think you should come sit over on the bench with me for a little while and you can think about why I might not want you climbing on things.”
“Uh-huh,” Clint said, and stomped off to the bench, where he threw himself down with remarkable lack of concern for his own bodily injury.
“You got this, Dad,” Bucky said, soft.
“Thanks,” Tony said, eyebrows lifted with surprise. “They’re both adopted, you know. Bruce came to me as a baby, but Clint was a little older. I’ve had some of my work cut out for me, trying to undo everything… well, his parents are alive, they’re unfit.”
“If he’s expecting to get hit, I’d say so,” Bucky said.
“Dad,” Tash demanded, tugging on his jeans again.
“Yes, solnyshko,” Bucky said, looking down.
“B’uce is cryin’,” she said, pointing to the curly-headed boy, who had moved as far away from everyone as possible, leaning in the corner of the play area.
Tony straightened his shoulders just a bit.
“Hey,” Bucky said, putting a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “If Bruce’ll respond okay to a stranger, me and kitten here can try to cheer him up while you deal with Clint?”
“You. Are a lifesaver,” Tony said, then nodded. “Please.”
Clint’s first action, after having his time-out, was to come over to say he was sorry to his brother, which did a lot more work toward cheering up the little boy than anything Bucky had said, although Bruce had paid attention to Tash with a determined wide-eyed expression that was cute as hell.
“I think kitten here bribed Bruce to cheer up with an ice cream,” Bucky said, “because god knows, I’m guilty of that one.” He gave Tony a wan smile. “After Tash’s mom died, we ate a lot of ice cream together. If it’s okay? My treat?”
Tony grinned. “Sure, that sounds good.”
After Bucky had finished his milkshake and cleaned up Tash’s face (swear to Christ, that girl ate ice cream like she was absorbing it through her cheeks) he kicked back in the chair and grinned at Tony. The kids were happily discussin a television show they all watched (Ninjago, which was something ninjas and legos, Bucky didn’t get it at all, but the less said about The Ren & Stimpy Show the better. He was in no position to judge.) and comparing flavors of ice cream (which resulted in Bruce getting strawberry ice cream in his hair.)
“We should do this again,” Bucky said.
Tony looked down at his kids for a few minutes, then nodded. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “We really should.”