Disclaimer: Just for fun, not for profit! Most characters are property of Marvel, but a few are my own creation. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.


Zombie Love

Wanda ran a hand over her abdomen absently as she watched the numbers on the monitors. She was a little disappointed that she wasn't out with the others. Nyssa had been sleeping peacefully, and all the numbers on the monitors were steady. Elijah had taken Darshan for a walk, mumbling something about needing to clear his head. Wanda turned the radio on low, trying to relieve the boredom without waking Nyssa up. She felt a little twinge of guilt that the others were out there fighting and risking their lives to save the city, while she was sitting at home in the comfort of Avengers Tower. She shifted in her chair, trying to get comfortable, and was rewarded by a swift kick into her diaphragm. She grunted, then lay a hand on her abdomen and gently rotated the baby so its feet weren't pressed up in her ribs.

A commotion in the hallway drew her attention. The door to the medical suite opened as if by a ghost. Wanda stood up to see a shock of blond hair toddling into the room as fast as his little legs could carry him. A few moments later, an angry looking woman stormed in behind. Priscilla Giroux was a matronly and severe-looking woman. Whatever other qualifications she had, Wanda was fairly certain Pepper had hired her to be Aaron's nanny at least in part because she would not be appealing to Tony in any way. She was as grandmotherly as a drill sergeant.

"Come back here, you naughty boy!" she scolded in Gallic-accented English. She lunged at Aaron and caught him by the arm. He immediately shrieked as if she had struck him with a red-hot poker, twisted and collapsed, pulled his arm out of her grasp and crawled away from her as fast as he could, bawling loudly. Wanda cringed at the noise as Mme. Giroux scolded him loudly in French. He crawled underneath the bed Nyssa was resting in, and Wanda took a couple steps in that direction to intervene before they awakened the recovering woman. Before she could intercede, Nyssa was already up and standing next to the bed, her body blocking the Frenchwoman from reaching the toddler. Mme. Giroux scolded her, again in French, no doubt believing that the woman could not understand her. Nyssa responded in kind, her tone measured and even. Mme. Giroux's eyes widened, and she had the grace to look embarrassed. The two women argued, Nyssa maintaining her calm while the nanny waved her hands, pointed accusing fingers at the crying toddler hiding and rocking under the table, and ranted in French. She took a step to move around Nyssa to get at the boy, but Nyssa stepped to the side, blocking her again. Mme. Giroux threw her hands up in the air. "Fine!" she spat at Nyssa in English. "Then you can tell Monsieur Stark that I quit!" She turned and stormed out. The only sound left in the medical suite was Aaron's crying. Nyssa sat down on the floor next to the bed, half-turned towards Aaron, but didn't make any attempt to grab for the toddler. Instead, she began to sing softly. Aaron's sobs slowly quieted. Nyssa didn't move, but continued singing. Aaron crept closer to her, then lay down on the floor at her feet, his flushed cheek pressed against the cool floor. Nyssa reached out and lightly brushed his temple, then drew her hand back. She went from singing to humming, until the toddler was fast asleep. Still, she didn't move.

"Should we just leave him on the floor?" Wanda asked in a stage whisper. Nyssa shrugged.

"He doesn't want to be touched right now. Maybe when they get back, Tony can take him upstairs," she whispered back. Aaron sighed in his sleep and wrapped a little fist around her big toe.


Bucky stepped out of the shower, his skin still bright red from standing in the water turned up just a hair hotter than he generally could tolerate. He had nearly boiled his skin off, but at least now he felt somewhat clean again. He dried himself methodically, then took a look at the bullet wound in his thigh. The edges were already turning pink with newly healing skin, but judging by the size of it, it might be a couple days before it closed completely. He should probably throw some strong disinfectant and a bandage on it. He opened the medicine cabinet and frowned. The bandages left in the kit were not quite the right size – either too large or too small – and there was only a tiny dribble left of the disinfectant. He shook his head and shrugged. No matter. There were plenty of supplies in the medical suite, and he was headed there next. He glanced around the bathroom to make sure everything was as he wanted it before he left the room.

After getting dressed, he headed to the elevator. The doors slid open, but before he could get on, a frantic-eyed Tony stepped out, looking up and down the hallway.

"You haven't seen Aaron, have you?" he asked Bucky, who frowned.

"He's not with Pepper?" he responded. Tony shook his head.

"She's out of town at a conference. He's supposed to be with the nanny, but they're not in the nursery, not in his bedroom, not in my workshop... Friday, where is Madame Giroux?"

"Madame Giroux is not here," Friday replied. "She quit, sir." Tony's eyes widened.

"Then where the hell is my son?" he demanded.

"In the medical suite, sir." Tony looked like he might choke at her reply. Bucky touched his shoulder lightly.

"That's where I'm headed," he said levelly. Tony glanced at him and nodded, stepping into the small space with him and running a hand over his face.

"I just leave for a few hours, and the nanny quits, and Aaron's in medical," Tony mumbled, mostly to himself. "Friday, what – no, never mind. I'll find out when I get there." He half turned towards Bucky. "I mean, I know he's a handful. He's my son. But that's the fourth nanny in six months." He sighed. "And she came so highly recommended." Bucky nodded sympathetically.

"Hard to find good help these days," he noted. Tony exhaled as the elevator doors opened, and they both charged down the hall to the medical suite. They both walked through the entrance to see Sam standing with a grin, arms crossed over his chest. The lights were turned down low, and some quiet instrumental music was playing. Wanda was sitting in a chair over by where they had left Nyssa, but neither Nyssa or Aaron were in sight at first glance. With a frown. Bucky strode past the first row of beds to see Nyssa sitting cross-legged on the floor with a blanket draped over her shoulders. At her feet, Aaron was curled up under another blanket, cheeks flushed in sleep.

"Okay, somebody want to explain to me what the hell is going on here?" Tony demanded. He pointed a finger at Nyssa accusingly. "Do you have something to do with why my nanny quit?" She shrugged.

"If a nanny is willing to quit over being prevented from hitting a fifteen-month-old child, I don't think she's worth whatever you're paying her," she said simply. She nodded down at Aaron. "He was very upset when she chased him in here, but he's okay now." Tony straightened up.

"I guess she was a little, ah…" he started

"Militant?" Nyssa suggested. Tony sighed and nodded, then bent down to scoop up his sleeping son.

"Well, good night, everyone. I guess I'm on bedtime detail," he said. Bucky crouched down by Nyssa.

"How are you feeling?" He asked. She gave him a weary smile.

"Not too bad, all things considered," she replied. "I'd really like to go home." Bucky looked over at Sam.

"How about it, Doc?" he asked. Sam rolled his eyes.

"I'm not a doctor," he reminded him. "But it looks like she was stable while we were gone. She'll need to get some food in her system, and she should probably take it easy for a few days, get plenty of rest."

"I don't think she'll need too much encouragement for either of those things," Nyssa offered helpfully, and extended a hand towards Bucky. "Can you help me up?" Bucky stood and pulled her to her feet. His thigh twinged, and he remembered why he had wanted to come here in the first place.

"Wait here just a minute," he instructed. "I just have to get some supplies before we go." She frowned slightly, her eyebrows knitting in concern.

"Are you hurt?" she asked worriedly.

"Nothing major. I just need a band-aid," he reassured her. She leaned back against the bed as he went over to the supply cupboard to grab a new bottle of disinfectant and a handful of the proper-sized bandages. Nyssa was still leaning against the bed when he got back, but slightly slumped, and her eyes were closed. She startled when he touched her shoulder, and jerked upwards, straightening her spine. "Ready to go?" Bucky asked softly. She nodded, moving slowly towards him. He offered his arm, and she clung to it gratefully. They walked together down the hallway. By the time they reached the elevator, she was leaning heavily against him.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I don't know why I'm so exhausted."

"Well, you have been mostly dead all day," he noted wryly. She laughed softly at the reference and leaned her head on his upper arm. The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Bucky stepped in that direction, but Nyssa stayed put. "Doors are open, doll. We should go."

"I'm trying," she replied, sounding frustrated with herself. "My feet feel like they weigh three tons apiece." With a chuckle, Bucky turned and swept her up into his arms. Stepping out into the hallway, he hefted her playfully.

"Nope, still feather-light as usual," he teased her. She twined her arms around his neck and tucked her head under his chin. He carried her down the hallway and shifted her slightly to open the door to their apartment.

"How's she doing?" Elijah asked from the living room. Darshan trotted over to greet them.

"Some good food and some rest, and she'll be healthy as ever," Bucky reassured him. Elijah looked relieved.

"Do you need anything?" Elijah offered. "I could cook something, or… run to the store." Bucky shook his head.

"Thanks for the offer, but I think I've got it," he assured the other man. Nyssa reached out towards her surrogate father.

"Sorry to worry you," she mumbled. Elijah took her hand in both of his own and leaned in to kiss the top of her head.

"I'm fine. You just rest and heal," he admonished her. "Give me a call when you're feeling up for a visit." She nodded. He tossed a salute off to Bucky. "I leave her in your capable hands, sir."

"Have a good night, Elijah," he replied. He would have saluted in return, but his hands were occupied. Elijah left, closing the door carefully behind him. "Where to, my love? Do you just want to go to bed? Are you hungry? Are you still cold?" He remembered it taking several days before he stopped feeling cold after being in cryo.

"Yes, I'm freezing," Nyssa said with a shiver. "But hungry, too."

"Well, why don't I draw you a nice, hot bath, and you can warm up in there while I make something for us to eat?" Bucky suggested.

"That sounds heavenly," Nyssa sighed happily. Bucky grinned and carried her into the bathroom. Setting her down on the edge of the tub, he started the water running as she slowly got undressed. Darshan sat in the doorway, supervising. Bucky whistled, and a moment later, Balaur came gliding into the bathroom. He perched on Bucky's shoulder. Bucky gestured to the candles he had set up around the edges of the tub.

"Balaur, lys," he commanded. With a chirring noise, Balaur hopped down and puffed a tiny flame at each candle wick. It had taken Bucky months to train him on this one trick, but he was pretty proud of it. Nyssa couldn't see the flames, but she would be able to feel their warmth and smell the lightly scented candles. Balaur finished lighting the last candle and flew back to Bucky's shoulder expectantly. "I don't have a treat for you right now," he informed the tiny dragon, holding up his empty hands to prove it. Balaur made a disappointed noise and attempted to nibble on Bucky's fleshy thumb instead. Bucky pulled his hand away. "Go into the kitchen, and I'll have something for you in a minute." Balaur flew out of the bathroom. Darshan sniffed after the little reptile. Bucky shook his head and tested the water, adjusting the temperature slightly. Nyssa was already climbing into the tub and sighed happily as she slid into the hot water. Bucky reached into a basket on the bathroom shelf and grabbed one of the colorful spheres. "Bath bomb?" he asked. Nyssa nodded with a grin and a giggle. He let the sphere fall into the water with a splash. Nyssa made an explosion sound effect with an impish grin. It had become a running joke between them, stemming from Bucky's initial confusion when he had heard the term. With a low chuckle, he bent and kissed her forehead. "I'm going to go cook something," he informed her.

"I must be the luckiest girl in the world," Nyssa responded. Bucky scoffed.

"Maybe wait to taste the food before you decide that," he suggested. Her quiet laughter followed him out to the kitchen. He had already decided what to make but wasn't certain how it would turn out. Nyssa had already established a tradition for post-mission meals when he was injured. She would make a from-scratch chicken noodle soup that she claimed her mother had always made for her when she was ill. She insisted it had actual healing properties. At first, Bucky had protested that he didn't need to be babied and his body did just fine healing on its own. But it was a very tasty soup, much more flavorful than the ones they sold in a can nowadays, and he couldn't deny that it was comforting. She had jotted down the recipe at his request, but this was the first opportunity Bucky would have to make it for her. He set the noodles to boil in the seasoned chicken broth, then diced the vegetables and tossed them in, too. He had just finished sautéing the chunks of chicken and added them to the broth when there was a splash from the bathroom and Darshan barked in alarm. He dashed down the hall to the bathroom and arrived in time to see Nyssa sit up in the water, coughing and spluttering.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

"I think… I fell asleep," she admitted sheepishly. Her expression turned almost mournful. "This bath feels so good and I don't want to get out, but I'm so tired, I should probably go to bed where I can't drown."

"Or maybe there's another option," Bucky said thoughtfully. "Wait just a minute." He went back to the kitchen for a moment and turned the soup down to low. It wouldn't hurt it to simmer for awhile. Returning to the bathroom, he stripped down and climbed into the tub. Settling down behind her, he pulled her in close and held her safely against his chest. "There. Now you can sleep if you want to." She made a soft noise of contentment and snuggled into him.

"I thought this couldn't get any better, but I was wrong," she said wonderingly. He tightened his arms slightly, holding her closer, and buried his face in her hair, reflecting for a moment on how close he had come to losing her. The knot of fear and dread that had taken up residence in his throat since Nyssa collapsed was dissolved by a wave of relief and came leaking out his eyes, his tears anointing her damp hair. He felt her arms encircle him and her presence surround him, not holding him together but providing a comforting place to fall apart.


An hour later, she was warm and dry, tucked into bed in one of his shirts that she had appropriated for a nightgown and under every blanket in the apartment. Bucky was stretched out on the bed next to her in boxers and new bandages, resting on top of the blankets, his attention on her as she finished up the last few bites of soup. She set the spoon back on the bowl, carefully set the bowl on the nightstand, then rolled back to face him. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Well?" he prompted. She grinned at him.

"Warmed me up the rest of the way from the inside out, and it was delicious. I should make you cook for me more often," she declared. Bucky groaned.

"Shit, was that a trap? I feel like that was a trap," he groused good-naturedly. It wasn't that he was a stranger to the kitchen. They cooked together several times a week. He found that he greatly enjoyed it, and it was also mutually beneficial. She taught him new recipes and techniques, and he found things, got things down from the high shelves, and made sure she didn't cut herself. But he rarely ventured into the kitchen on his own. Nyssa laughed.

"Well, you know what they say. The reward for a job well done is another job," she reminded him teasingly.

"Not always," he retorted. "Near-death experience aside, you did well infiltrating the new Hydra operation. But after the day we've had, I'm seriously considering asking Tony to make a suit for you." She gave him a sardonic look.

"You want to encase me in metal and render all of my abilities useless?" she asked pointedly.

"I did consider it, for about two minutes," he said archly. His hand found hers, their fingers intertwining. "I just don't want to lose you." Her expression softened.

"I'm certainly not planning on going anywhere," she replied. "I understand you feeling protective. I always feel safe with you. Just be careful not to protect me so hard that you keep me from living my life. I also need you to trust me."

"I do," Bucky insisted. "I just… You almost died today. What if next time it isn't an almost?"

"I could say the same thing about you," she countered. "On any given day, either of us could make the ultimate sacrifice. You take just as many risks and are just as likely to be killed in action."

"I'm a little harder to kill, though," he insisted. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, really? As far as I can tell, both of us are at one hundred percent for making it to the next day. So we're on equal footing for that," she pointed out. He frowned slightly.

"I'm not sure you can figure a percentage on that one," he said thoughtfully. "Isn't it more of a pass or fail kind of thing?"

"Maybe," Nyssa conceded. "Except, how do you figure in zombies?" Bucky scoffed.

"Zombies? Now you're just making stuff up," he accused. Nyssa let out a little huff of laughter.

"Are you sure?" she teased. "You're a 104 year old super soldier, married to a blind telepath who moonlights as a technopath, and you have a pet dragon. Your best friends and coworkers are another super soldier, a flying man who can talk to birds, a chaos witch, a sapient computer construct and the literal god of lightning. Are you completely certain there's no such thing as zombies?"

"Guess nothing's impossible," he conceded. "I will reserve judgement until we encounter an actual zombie."

"Fair enough," Nyssa allowed. "Although Sam mentioned that I was dead for a few minutes today before you all brought me back to life. So, technically, I might just qualify as a zombie." Bucky chuckled and shook his head.

"But you don't look like a zombie," he pointed out. "You don't have the rotting skin, the limited vocabulary or the vacant expression."

"No," Nyssa agreed, "but I am feeling this… overwhelming attraction to your brains. Braaaains!" She ended with a blank expression and a playful zombie moan, leaning over in an open-mouthed attack. Bucky half-deflected, pulling her head down and capturing her mouth in his. She moaned again, this time sounding much less like a zombie. The kiss ended, but she kept her eyes closed and rested her forehead against his. "Is that what you're going to do in case of a zombie attack?" she asked mischievously. "Kiss them?" She traced his lips with her finger. "That seems like a very efficient way to get bitten."

"Only if the zombie is you," he declared softly, and kissed her again. She melted into him, sagging as her body reminded her how exhausted she was. He could feel how hard she was fighting to stay awake. He caressed her face and pressed her back onto her side of the bed. "You are supposed to be resting," he admonished. Nyssa settled back against her pillows, pulling the blankets back up to shoulder level.

"Yessir," she said meekly, and yawned. She curled up on her side facing him. "Love you, Bucky," she murmured as her eyes drifted closed.

"Love you too, Doll," he replied, but she was already fast asleep.


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