Little Steve is too smart for his own good, which brings him to a troubling realization and a rough day. Lucky for him, Sam is a very thoughtful guy, Thor's lap is the perfect size for comforting snuggles, and Bucky has just the right words to make the little guy feel better.

Bucky had woken up with Steve wrapped around his torso again, and decided that maybe having his own room wasn't what Steve needed at this point. Steve wasn't embarrassed about ending up in Bucky's bed again—which was good, because that wasn't what Bucky was going for—but he was quick to agree with the idea of moving his bed into Bucky's room. Bucky was strong enough to move the bed over on his own, while Steve followed with a pile of blankets and pillows, looking impressed by Bucky's strength.

"Was I really that strong?" Steve wondered as they remade his bed.

"You were actually stronger," Bucky said.

"I wonder what Ma thought of me being all big and everything," Steve said thoughtfully, and an uncomfortable knot formed in Bucky's throat. Sarah Rogers had not yet been brought up, and Bucky was really hoping Steve would get big again before he had to explain to a nine-year-old that his mom was dead—had died, in fact, without ever seeing him grow tall and strong. It would seem he was just thinking out loud, though, not actually asking Bucky what his ma had thought, because he kept going and asked, "Do you have a picture of big me? Maybe I look like my pop."

"Yeah, I got a picture somewhere," Bucky said, glad the subject had shifted. He pulled out his phone and found a picture of Steve from a couple weeks back.

"Wow," Steve said, leaning in to study the picture. "That's really me?" Bucky nodded. "I'm huge!"

Bucky chuckled.

"I'll bet Billy Gillepsie would never try and take my lunch if he knew I was gonna grow up to look like that."

"Probably not," Bucky agreed, though he didn't remember which one Billy Gillepsie was.

Steve studied the picture a little longer, then nodded to himself and went to get dressed. He seemed to be mulling over something, so Bucky left him to his thoughts while they went and got some cereal.

"So," Natasha said as he sat down. "We might have something on portal guy. You up for a quick mission?" She shot a significant look in Steve's direction, asking if Bucky was okay leaving him here. "I could use you on this one."

"Where's the lead?" Bucky asked. He had fewer qualms about leaving Steve for a day trip than he did if they were hopping somewhere international.

"Connecticut," she replied. "Quick hop in the Quinjet. We'll be back before dinner."

Bucky looked down at Steve, who wasn't really paying attention, still thinking over whatever he was thinking over while he ate his cornflakes. "Hey, Stevie?" he asked, nudging Steve's arm when Steve didn't respond.

"Huh?" Steve said.

"Would you be okay with me leaving you here for a little while?" he asked. "Natasha thinks she's got a lead on the guy who turned you little, so me and her are gonna go check it out. Would you be okay with staying here with Thor and Sam until I get back at dinner time?"

"Oh. Okay," Steve said. "Yeah, that's alright." His eyebrows furrowed a little. "You'll be careful, right?"

"We will," Bucky assured him.

"Okay," Steve said again.

Bucky was still hesitant to leave the little guy, but he'd gotten more comfortable with the rest of the group, and if he and Natasha could catch the portal guy, then maybe they could get this whole thing fixed. He checked in with everyone who was going to be around the Tower, and they all were fine with keeping an eye on Steve.

"The kitchen has a list of his allergies," Bucky told Sam. "And I really don't feel comfortable with Stark doing more testing on him or anything while I'm not here, so if that comes up, let's just postpone it. And—"

"Dude," Sam cut him off with a smirk. "We'll be fine. Go track this guy down. We're good here."

"We are," Steve assured him from where he stood next to Sam. "And I'll be real good. I promise."

Bucky chuckled. "You? Good?"

Steve straightened up primly. "I'm a Brooklyn angel," he said, which was something his mom used to say. Bucky laughed at that, and Steve smiled. "Be careful," Steve said, giving him a hug.

"I will," Bucky said, hugging him back. "I'll miss you, buddy."

Steve hugged him a little tighter, then let go, and Bucky stepped into the elevator to head for the jet.

Sam had never thought he'd be in the position of baby-sitting Captain America, but here he was. Steve was quieter today than he had been the past couple days, and Bucky had mentioned earlier that he had something on his mind, though he didn't know what. Steve always had been a deep thinker, and Sam wondered what kind of stuff nine-year-old Steve thought deeply about. He tried testing the waters and asking what was on his mind, but Steve just shrugged and said, "Just stuff," and Sam figured he should let it lie for a while.

"Oh, hey, before I forget, I got you something," Sam said.

"You did?" Steve asked curiously.

"Yeah." Sam reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a book. "You mentioned yesterday that you never got to finish this one, so I tracked down a copy." He held out a small paperback version of The Midnight Folk.

Steve reached up and took the book gingerly, staring in awe at the picture of the little boy flying through the night sky on the cover. His blue eyes were shining when he looked up at Sam. "You remembered I said that and you got me this?"

"Yeah," Sam said, shrugging one shoulder. Besides it just being a nice thing to do, he'd figured it might help Steve bridge the gap between past and present that he was faced with. "I hate leaving a book in the middle," he added with a smile.

He grunted in surprise as Steve flung his arms around him awfully forcefully for someone so small, knocking his breath out in a rush. "Thanks, Mr. Sam," Steve mumbled into his stomach, hugging him tightly.

"You're welcome, Steve," Sam said, a little surprised by the sudden embrace, but touched. He patted Steve's hair with a smile.

After a minute, Steve tilted his head up. "That was really nice of you," he said, smiling softly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Sam said again, not really sure what else to say. "I hope it's good."

Steve pulled back and looked down at the book again, clutching it with both hands. "Is it okay if I go and read it now?"

"Sure," Sam said. He patted him on the shoulder. "Read away. I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks." Steve took the book and headed for the living room, settling down onto one of the couches that was back in its proper place. Sam watched him for a minute to make sure he was alright, then headed for the kitchen table and the mission report he was supposed to have filed a week ago. He got up every now and then to stick his head into the room and check on Steve, who was in a different position every time he looked, but remained absorbed in the book.

Thor made for the kitchen, seeking out Sam and Steve. He had agreed to help Sam in minding Steve until Bucky returned, but had gotten distracted by a philosophical discussion with the Vision. He found Sam alone at the kitchen table, working on a report.

"Where is our young charge?" Thor asked.

"He's been reading all morning," Sam said, nodding in the direction of the living room. "When I checked on him a couple minutes ago, he was draped over the arm of the couch reading upside down."

Thor chuckled. "There is a certain flexibility in ones so small."

Sam smiled in agreement, then looked down at his watch. "I should get started on lunch. You want to go let him know we'll eat soon?"

Thor nodded and moved into the living room. Steve must have shifted positions yet again, for he saw no one, but then a small sniffling sound caught his ears. He turned to find the source of the noise, and after a moment, his eyes landed on Steve, curled up into a small ball against the cushions at one end of the couch, his book on the floor beside him. Alarmed, as he had been well when Sam checked on him minutes ago, Thor crossed the room quickly, asking, "Are you alright?" Steve jumped a little, unaware he was not alone.

"I'm fine," Steve said quickly, dashing a hand across his nose. He appeared uninjured, though moisture glimmered in his bright blue eyes.

"I don't believe you are," Thor said gently, stepping closer. He stopped near the couch and knelt beside it, aware that his size would easily be intimidating to one so small. "What troubles you?"

Steve sniffed again. "It…It's silly," he said softly, clearly wishing to unburden himself but embarrassed to do so.

"I doubt that," Thor said warmly.

Steve was silent for a moment. "I miss my ma," he whispered.

Thor nodded in understanding. For a child so young, any great length of time away from one's mother was a hardship, as Thor remembered well. How much more so it must be for his Captain right now, whose memory placed him home and at his mother's side one moment and standing in a world of monsters and strangers the next. "That does not sound silly to me," he said kindly.

Steve did not smile, but a spark of gratitude flickered behind the tears in his eyes, and he continued speaking a bit more quickly. "It's just…" He sniffled again. "It's not just 'cause she's not here. I mean, it kind of is, but it's also…Well, Bucky told me how we're in the future now and everything."

Thor nodded. He and all the others, once they recovered from their initial shock of seeing their Captain transformed into a child, had been amazed at how easily he trusted Bucky and everything he told him. Thor knew they had been great friends for a long time, but this was more—this was the bond of brotherhood between them, something that allowed Steve, even with his memory of most of his life gone, to know that Bucky was safe and worthy of trust.

"And I was thinking…" Steve continued. His small voice had begun to wobble. "It's a really long time from 1927 to 2015. And I realized that means that…" He sniffed and wiped his nose again. "It means that…" He swallowed hard, as if frightened to say what came next. "It means that she's dead now," he whispered, and one of the tears pooling in his eyes escaped and trickled down his cheek.

Thor's heart ached at the pain in his young friend's face. Of course Steve's mother was dead—Thor knew she had been for many years—but no one had said so to young Steve. He knew they all hoped the situation could be remedied soon, and why bring up something that would be so painful for a child when he might soon be restored to the man who had made his peace with it?

"And I…" Steve continued shakily. "'Cause I don't remember anything after being nine, I don't know how much time I lost with her, or if she was all worried about me when I got frozen and didn't come home, and…I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't know the last time I kissed her goodnight would be the last time I saw her," he finished in a tiny, broken voice.

"Oh, Steve," Thor murmured. He got up from where he was kneeling on the floor and moved to sit on the couch beside him. The small boy immediately curled against his side, and Thor's arm moved to wrap around him. "I am sorry, my friend," he said. Knowing condolences mattered little when one felt so sorrowful, Thor drew in a deep breath and continued. "I understand how you are feeling."

"You do?" Steve asked quietly, looking up with watery eyes.

"I do." Thor rarely spoke about this with anyone, but now seemed an opportune time. "My mother is also dead," he said softly.

"Really?"

Thor nodded. "And like you, I was not there when it happened. Like you…" He paused to draw in a deep breath. "I did not get to say goodbye." His mother had been taken too swiftly for that.

Steve was staring at him with wide eyes. "What did you do?" he whispered.

Thor smiled sadly, knowing the boy was not asking how he sought his vengeance—among so many grown men, heroes and warriors, Steve feared showing weakness and was seeking permission to mourn. "I shed many tears that day," Thor told him honestly. "That day, and in the days that followed. Even now, sometimes, the sorrow strikes me still. Yes, I cried. I raged. I mourned." He pulled his arm in a little tighter around the boy. "There is no shame in grief, my young Captain. There is nothing unmanly in tears," he told him. The boy was losing his battle with them, and Thor found he was having trouble keeping his own in check, looking upon that small, sad face. "Allow them to flow," he said. "Sorrow builds up swiftly in the heart if not allowed to escape. There is healing in tears."

Steve held his gaze a moment longer before his face crumpled completely and he began to weep, no longer trying to hold any of it back. Thor pulled the boy up into his lap and wrapped his arms around him, cradling his head against his chest, and Steve latched on to the front of his shirt, clenching it tightly in his tiny fists. Thor made soothing noises and stroked his hair, saying nothing, merely allowing his friend a safe place for his grief. And if he felt his own mother's hands on his shoulders, if he allowed some few tears of his own to fall, well, what of it?

Thor was uncertain of how long they had sat there, though it could not have been long, when he sensed someone behind them and turned his head enough to see Sam standing in the doorway, looking worried. Thor nodded, acknowledging that all was not well, but he smiled and inclined his head to say that he was attending to it. Sam was, of course, well-equipped to handle such a moment, but Steve did not need an audience for his sorrow. Sam nodded in understanding and backed out, though concern still shone in his eyes.

Steve's sobs grew quieter, though silent tears were still soaking through the front of Thor's shirt. "Did your mother sing to you?" Thor asked. Steve sniffled and nodded against his chest. Thor smiled. "My mother would sing to me too," he said. "I loved it best when she sang songs of the sea." Thor cleared his throat and began singing gently, ancient Asgardian words that spun images of waves and seafoam, ships sailing in the mist, and creatures of the sea dancing in the deep. Though Thor had never had his mother's skill for magic, there was power yet in the words—power to soothe the troubled soul, and to calm a frightened child. There had been nights when Thor, mighty warrior and god of thunder, had lain trembling in fear of the dark. These words and his mother's gentle hand had brought him peace, and the words worked their magic still as Thor sang them over his Captain and felt the small body in his arms cease its trembling.

The song ended, and they sat in silence for a moment. Thor continued his gentle stroking of Steve's hair. Steve shifted in his arms, saying nothing, but relaxing from his tense curl of sorrow. Thor moved his hand from Steve's head to his back, drawing soothing circles with his fingers. "Has your mother been on your mind of late?" Thor asked gently, hoping to discern what had steered his thoughts this way.

Steve nodded. "I was thinkin' about her today." He sniffed and wiped his nose. "I was wonderin' what she thought of me being all big and everything, and then I just kept thinkin' about her." He was quiet a moment. "I started to figure how maybe she was dead, and I didn't want to think about it, and then Mr. Sam gave me this book, so I was reading it and I felt better. But the boy in the book…He starts talkin' about his ma near the end, and it just made me think about my ma again, and…" His voice started to waver and he trailed off.

Thor nodded.

"I'm sorry for cryin' all over you," Steve whispered in a tiny voice.

"Do not be," Thor said. He reached down a hand to tilt Steve's head up to look at him. "As I said, there is nothing unmanly in tears. Each man will grieve many times as he goes through life. To mourn loss is a natural thing. There are none here who would mock you for it."

Steve gave him a watery smile. "Thanks," he whispered.

Thor smiled back and patted his back. "Of course. You can come and sit with me any time, should you feel the need. You can weep, or speak to me of your mother, and I can sing you songs of Asgard, if you do not object to this voice of mine." A small laugh escaped Steve's throat, and Thor smiled warmly at the smile that grew on his small face.

"But for now, if things are well at present…" He paused to seek confirmation in Steve's face. "Then I think Sam has prepared lunch. Let us go and wash. You will feel better, I think, for washing your face."

Steve nodded, and slid off of Thor's lap, though one of his hands slid down and twined its little fingers through Thor's. Thor squeezed the small hand gently and led him to get cleaned up.

Bucky sighed, running a hand back through his damp hair. He'd just gotten out of the shower and slipped into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and really wanted nothing more than to flop down on his bed and fall asleep and see if things just got better tomorrow. Today had just been a mess on all counts.

The mission with Natasha hadn't gone well. There had been no portal guy, but there had been a generic mad scientist who made something similar enough to the portals that it was easy to see how their informant had gotten confused. There'd been a fight, and they'd won, but Bucky was sore and in a bad mood that they'd flown all the way out there for nothing. Especially after having heard about the kind of day Steve had.

Thor and Sam had discreetly filled him in on Steve's morning revelation and breakdown, and Bucky would have been lying if he'd said he hadn't seen it coming. He felt guilty for being gone while it happened, and he felt even worse for not having said something to Steve in the first place. He wasn't sure what kind of groundwork he could have laid for a conversation like that, but he felt like he'd just lied to his face by keeping it from him.

According to the reports, Steve hadn't cried again for the rest of the day, but he'd been quiet and clingy. Sam and Thor had done a pretty good job of keeping his mind otherwise occupied, and when Bucky had gotten back and been filled in, he'd checked in with Steve, and Steve had smiled sadly and said he understood and wasn't mad at Bucky for not saying anything. The kicker was, Bucky figured he was probably telling the truth. Steve had always been way too smart for his own good—which had led him to his distressing discovery today, and he'd always been too forgiving for his own good too. In ninety-six years, the only grudge Bucky could think of Steve ever holding was against Hydra. He knew Steve wasn't mad at him. Didn't mean he didn't still feel like a heel, though.

So, yeah, he was tired and sore and not feeling awesome, but Steve had had a crappy day too, and he didn't have the coping mechanisms he'd developed as he got older. Bucky could hardly go to sleep and just leave the little guy to fend for himself. And maybe if he could do something to make him feel better, it would help assuage the guilt swirling around in his chest.

Steve was quiet at dinner, and mostly just picked at his food. When he was done eating, he climbed over into Bucky's lap, and seemed content to just sit there and listen to everyone else talk. The conversation stuck with lighter topics—the main mission right now was figuring out how to get Adult Steve back, and though no one was saying so explicitly, it was currently striking out in both the lab and the field. Everyone was trying to keep their hopes up, though, and it was a reasonably cheerful dinner, all things considered.

There had been some kind of baseball game on after dinner, but Bucky couldn't get into it, and Steve didn't seem particularly interested either—and Bucky knew the kid had to still be pretty down in the dumps to not be interested in baseball. He stayed curled up in Bucky's lap the whole time, one hand wrapped around Bucky's metal arm, and he just nodded when Bucky suggested maybe it was time for bed.

Steve went and got a bath, and Bucky sat on his bed and stared at the wall and tried to figure out what he should say. He didn't want to upset him again, but everything wasn't alright right now. He had to say something.

He did have to smile when Steve padded out of the bathroom, his damp hair sticking out every which way after some over-enthusiastic toweling. "Hey, kiddo," he said. "You doing okay?"

"Uh huh," Steve said.

"Come sit up here with me a minute, will you?" Bucky asked, patting the mattress next to him. Steve did so, looking up at Bucky expectantly. Bucky sighed. "Look, I…I'm sorry about today. I should have told you about your ma. And I should have been here to help you through it."

Steve smiled at him sadly. "Bucky, I'm not mad at you. S'okay. And I was alright today. Mr. Thor was really nice. He talked to me for a while and said it was okay if I cried."

"It is okay," Bucky affirmed. "You know nobody's gonna mind if you do, right?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah. I still don't like to, though."

Bucky smiled gently. "Well, sure. Nobody likes to cry."

That got a tiny smile out of Steve. "I feel better right now. But I figure I'll get sad about it again. And…" He scooted over closer to Bucky and leaned over on his arm. "I can come cry with you if I need to, right?"

Bucky slung an arm around him and hugged him. "Of course you can. Any time. And if you need to talk about your ma, I remember her. We can talk about her together."

Another tiny smile. "Thanks."

They sat there for a couple of minutes, but Bucky could still see the wheels turning under Steve's messy mop of hair. "Is something else bothering you?" he wondered.

An expression flitted across Steve's face that said he didn't want to lie and say 'no', but he was nervous about coming out and saying whatever it was. Steve was usually pretty candid with him, so Bucky figured it had to be something that he was worried would upset him. "I'm not gonna make you talk if you don't want to," he said. "But whatever it is, I won't get mad at you for it."

Steve considered for a moment, then sighed and wriggled out from under Bucky's arm and climbed up onto his lap again. He leaned his head back against Bucky's chest and tilted his face up to look at him. "I'm sorry I messed everything up," he said softly.

"Messed everything up? What do you mean?" Bucky asked.

"'Cause of what happened," Steve elaborated, not really explaining anything. "Me getting little and all."

Bucky took a moment to replay the statement. "You're apologizing for being a kid? Stevie, that's not your fault."

"Yeah, but…" Steve trailed off, not having the words he wanted to explain with. "Everybody's all been real nice to me. I'm not saying they haven't. I just…I'm s'posed to be big. And I can tell everybody's worried about it. They miss Grownup Steve. You all want your friend back. I'm sorry I'm not him," he finished quietly.

Something in Bucky's heart ached at the way Steve said that. "Aw, Stevie…"

"It's okay," Steve said. "I mean, you know, you were friends with Little Me when you were little, but then you grew up, and I grew up, and you're more used to Big Me now, and that's okay. I'm just…I'm sorry I'm the wrong one."

A knot twisted up in Bucky's throat that he had to swallow down before he could speak. Big or little, Steve had often had trouble fitting in, but especially when he'd been little. He'd been sickly and scrawny and easily pushed aside, often on the outskirts of the other kids playing, not quite good enough to be included. He'd always had Bucky, though, and it killed Bucky a little bit to realize that Steve thought maybe he didn't anymore.

"Can I tell you something?" Bucky asked after he'd gathered what he hoped were the right words. Steve had given him a similar speech to the one he was pulling together when Bucky had been worried about being too damaged to be worth saving, and the words had fixed something deep inside Bucky's soul. It was his turn to be the strong one now, and he hoped the words would do the same for his friend.

Steve nodded.

"Big Steve isn't my friend," Bucky said.

Steve's eyes went wide in surprise.

"You know who is my friend?" Bucky asked, before Steve could extrapolate that statement off in the wrong direction. "Steve," he said simply. "Steve Rogers is my friend. Doesn't matter what adjective you stick on the front. It could be Big Steve, Little Steve, Old Steve, Short Steve, Fat Steve, Hairy Steve, hell, it could be Alien Steve and it wouldn't matter. The first word can be any old word as long as the second one is Steve." He smiled warmly as Steve stared up at him in awe.

"You," he said, touching a finger to his nose. "Are my friend. Because you're Steve. And Steve is very important to me. And yes, I'm not gonna lie, I do miss the grownup version of you. But I don't want you to think for one second that that means you're not important. Because you are an awesome person just the way you are. Big you or little you, I feel lucky to call you my best friend."

Steve shifted a little uncomfortably. "Even if…Even if they can't figure out how to make me big again?"

Bucky smiled. "Yes. Even then. Because what makes Steve so special—what makes him so important to me—is all in here." He poked a finger into Steve's chest. "So, if you end up staying nine, I still haven't lost the Steve I care about. You're enough, Steve. Just how you are. You don't need to be a big, strong hero, or even a grownup, for me to care about you. You're always going to be enough. And I'm always going to be right here. 'Til the end of the line."

Tears were pooling in Steve's little blue eyes, but he was smiling. "Thanks," he said softly, then he wrapped his arms around Bucky's chest and buried his face in his shirt and hugged him as tight as his skinny arms could manage, and Bucky hugged him back. They'd all gotten caught up in trying to fix this, and they hadn't really stopped to think how Steve would take it. Yes, Bucky did want grownup Steve back, but it was true what he'd said to Natasha on that first day, and to Steve just now. This little guy was still Steve. He was still alive, still safe and still here. Still just as important to Bucky as the big one.

Steve shifted so his face wasn't buried in Bucky's shirt, looking up and giving Bucky a watery, but genuine smile. "I love you, Bucky," he whispered. "I'm glad you're still here."

Another lump of emotion twisted up in Bucky's throat again, and he didn't think he could say anything, so he hugged him tighter and leaned down and rested his head on top of Steve's for a minute. "I love you too, Stevie," he said softly. "I'm glad you're here too."

Steve takes good care of his team, and they take good care of him. The little guy's going to be alright.

Up next, the team takes Steve out to explore some of the future, and Steve discovers Legos and Cherry Dr. Pepper.