Bucky had been living with you for a few months now and everything was just perfect. He'd found a job as a mechanic nearby, and he was contributing his meager salary to helping you take care of the apartment and food. You were home from work one rainy evening, driving down a busy street in Brooklyn, stuck at a red light when you look over.
There, in a cardboard box, a little face peeks up at you, big blue eyes and sandy yellow fur. Sharpie was hastily scratched over the front of the box- "Free To Good Home". Not giving it a second thought, you pull into a side street, park, and walk back to the box. Inside are two kittens, the little blonde chap from before and a siamese tabby mix. They both have the biggest blue eyes you've ever seen and they look hungry. You considered it for a moment and made up your mind. Wrapping your arms around the soggy box, you carry it back to your car and put it in the backseat.
A few minutes later, you pull into a Family Dollar parking lot. Twisting around in the driver's seat, you take a good hard look at the little scamps. "Okay, you two be good- I'm going to get you some food and other things- don't tear up my car, okay?"
A few minutes later when you return, having spent much more than you intended, you find both of them asleep across your back seat, everything covered in hair and cat puke in the floorboard. You shrug and put the bags in the trunk, driving the rest of the way home rather slowly. You like to plan things out before you do them, so you decide to take the kittens up first and then come back for the supplies (as you have to introduce them to Bucky before). You realize that you've never asked if he's allergic. Oh, well. They'll at least have a home for a week or so.
The rain has finally let up when you get to your shabby apartment building, and your flat is all the way at the top. You struggle up seven flights of stairs with the box in your arms, the kittens mewling and trying to explore despite the fact they were being transported places. You're scared that if you set the box down, they'll jump out and take off, you have to take your chances that Bucky is awake to open the door. You kick against the iron door gently with your foot, staring at the 7D while you wait.
Fortunately, it was around dinner time already, so Bucky was, in fact, awake and panicking a little. At the sight of you, he sighs in relief, and says, "Where were you? You got off an hour and a half ago- I was so worr-" his voice cut off when one of the kittens meowed feebly. "What- what do you have?" he said, seemingly almost...afraid? No, that wasn't possible. Sidling past him, you set down the box and the kittens instantly jumped out- as you had feared. But they were inside now, so it wasn't a big deal.
You pushed the door closed behind us and look at Bucky. He seems worried now as if I'd brought a pair of pythons. "I found them on the side of the road- they were abandoned. You know I have a tendency to take in strays," you joked, poking at him. He didn't acknowledge your attempt at humor. While the little siamese one wondered into the other room, the sandy colored one wandered over to Bucky and meowed as loud as his tiny lungs would allow. Bucky silently stretched out his good hand and the kitten instinctively rubbed against it, purring hard through his small body.
"Can we keep them?" his voice surprised you, as well as what he said. "Wha- I thought you didn't like them!" you protested, which was a stupid thing to do- why shouldn't they stay here? "No, no, I just- I was just thinking about the cat I used to have," he explained, scooping up the little kitten in one hand and stroking it with the other. It seemed to enjoy the kiss of the metal against its fur because it leaned in appreciatively and mewled between purrs.
"So- that one's yours?" you laughed, gesturing at the little yellow kitty. It had its big blue eyes fastened on Bucky, looking at him like he was the world. "Mmm...I think I'll call him Steve," he replied. You frown playfully- he'd never mentioned any Steves from his past, but you don't just name a cat Steve, so there was definately something he wasn't telling you. Someone important to him...someone worthy of getting a kitten named after them. But it didn't matter- as long as he had company and was happy to have that company. "Okie dokie- I'll go get their stuff. I stopped by Family Dollar after I picked them up," you add, running down to the parking lot and back.
When you return, Bucky isn't in the main room anymore. There was- what was that? Singing? No, not possible. Setting down the stuff as quietly as you could, you tiptoe into the bedroom and see Bucky sprawled out on the bed, stroking both kittens, who were sound asleep beside him. He was uttering a lullaby in Russian- something like "The Itsy Bitsy Spider". You'd never seen this side of him before...and you knew it was only the beginning with two new babies here.
