Steve and Tony spend some quality time together, and Bucky learns that even F.R.I.D.A.Y. has some caretaker feelings/programming as far as the little guy is concerned.

By the time a week of Little Steve had rolled around, it had stopped feeling weird. It was actually, somewhat alarmingly, starting to feel a little bit normal. No one was giving up on solving this, but it was turning out to be a longer term problem. It was being worked on alongside other things, and life in Avengers Tower slowly adjusted to accommodate their nine-year-old Captain.

Routines were starting to form—Steve was a fairly low maintenance kid, and was perfectly happy to sit and read or draw and entertain himself, but there were still habits people fell into. Clint and Steve made breakfast together most mornings. Steve would climb on things down in the gym while Natasha worked out. Wanda and Steve had developed a game where he would throw things unexpectedly for her to catch with her force fields, or where she would try to sneak up on him and lift him up in the air before he spotted her. Sam and Steve would build something—Legos, or the elaborate marble run set Natasha and Clint had gotten him—and they would talk while they worked. Steve would sometimes crawl up into Thor's lap and shyly ask him if he would sing him a song from Asgard, or tell him a story, and he would curl up into a contented little ball and listen to the deep rolling voice of the god of thunder.

Bucky couldn't help feeling warm and kind of fuzzy as he watched it all. The team had already been like their own little family, but there was something a little more…intentional to it now. It felt good. And he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel awesome that, yes, Steve was making friends and feeling comfortable with everyone, but Bucky was still his go-to for everything. On a more selfish level, it meant the little guy liked him best and that made him happy, but when you went deeper than that…Steve needed Bucky. And Bucky…Now that Bucky was back from Hydra, he was loved and respected and wanted and cared for and all those wonderful things, but nobody had needed him in a very long time. That was something he'd thought was left in the past with Old Bucky, and to not just be needed by someone, but to actually be able to meet that need, it was healing something. Fixing a part of Bucky's damaged soul. Big or little, Steve kept doing that.

The only one of them who hadn't really developed a routine with Little Steve was Stark. That wasn't to say he didn't interact with the little guy—after the fort and the movie night, he'd been pretty involved, he just hadn't settled on one thing they did together. Sometimes they would play a game, or make dessert, or take a tour of all the fancy cars in the garage. Today, it seemed they were working on something in the lab. After determining from F.R.I.D.A.Y. that was where they were, Bucky headed down to check in—Stark always had good intentions, but he wasn't so much with the safety gear, and did have a tendency to set things on fire, and Steve was a lot less durable in those situations than he used to be.

"And see, that's the thing about artificial intelligence," Bucky heard Stark saying as he rounded the door into the lab. "If you can't give it a personality, you might as well just make a robot."

"Is that not the same?" Steve asked. He was sitting cross-legged on top of a counter, wearing, Bucky was pleased to note, a large pair of safety goggles.

"Nope," came Stark's voice from somewhere Bucky hadn't quite pinpointed yet. "Phillips." A hand shot up from inside a hunk of machinery next to the counter, and Steve placed a screwdriver into it. "Robots are just machines that do what they're told."

"But Miss F.R.I.D.A.Y. does what you tell her," Steve pointed out.

There was a clang and a sharp, "ow!" from inside the machine. "Yes, but she can do stuff on her own too," Stark continued. "A robot needs very specific instructions, and can only do those things. A.I. can take what you tell it and figure out stuff to do with that without having to be told to. But if you don't put at least some guidelines on there, things can get ugly. Socket wrench."

"What do you mean?" Steve wondered, handing the tool over.

"Well, see, you can make an artificial brain to do all the thinking it wants. It can be the smartest thing in the world. But they can't feel things. And feelings and emotions—things like empathy or understanding—turn out to be pretty important. Flathead."

Steve handed him another screwdriver, biting his lip in thought. Rather than interrupt, Bucky crossed his arms and leaned back against the door. Neither of them had noticed him yet, and it looked like Stark was actually starting to talk about Ultron, which he'd never done once the whole thing was over—as far as Bucky knew anyway.

"I still don't understand," Steve said.

"Well, usually, logic is good. But say you get a super-smart A.I. And say you tell him…Say you tell him that his job is to help make world peace. That sounds like a good thing, right?" There was a little bit of hesitancy in his voice as he explained the example, and Bucky was surprised he would mention Ultron so directly. But then, as far as Steve knew, it was hypothetical.

"Yeah," Steve agreed.

"So, say this A.I. gets started on his mission. And he does a lot of research and figures out what's going on in the world and what needs fixing. Still sounds good so far, right?"

"Uh huh."

There was another clank and a louder, "ow!" The hand that shot up from out of the machine was a little more frantic. "Pliers! Quick!"

"Are you okay, Mr. Tony?" Steve asked, handing over the pliers.

"Ow, ow, ow! Yes. Okay, we're good now. Where was I?"

"You said the A.I. was researching and trying to figure out how to fix things."

"Right. Here, pass me a couple of those blueberries. Okay, so the A.I. looks at the world and decides that all the problems are because of all the people. You follow me so far?"

"I think so," Steve said. "I mean, people wouldn't start wars and stuff if there were no other people to fight."

"Exactly. So, what would you do to try to fix that?"

Steve had a pretty cute thoughtful little face, but the addition of the humongous safety goggles cranked it up into adorable. "Well," he said slowly. "I mean, I'm not as smart as an A.I. or anything, but I guess I would tell people to talk to each other. Like, if they're fighting over maybe not enough stuff or something, you could try to figure out a way for them to share, or maybe to make more?"

"Mm, see, that's a good idea. A hard one to do. But a good one. A human idea," Stark said. "But this A.I., it sees all these problems and it thinks, well if people are the problem, the easiest way to fix it is to get rid of the people. So it builds itself a body and goes out and tries to kill all the people."

Steve gasped.

"Exactly," Stark said. "The A.I. doesn't know any better, because it's just looking at numbers and logic, and not counting for the human side of things. So you still need some rules and guidelines for it to follow so it doesn't get carried away." He sighed. "I learned that the hard way," he added softly.

Not having super hearing anymore, Bucky wondered if Steve heard that. His expression said that he did, but that he realized it might not be a good idea to poke at it and ask for more.

"I think I get it," Steve said. "So—"

There was a hiss of steam and smoke from whatever it was Stark was working on, and a sudden flame burst out of one end of it. Bucky was jumping forward to grab Steve, but a robotic arm flew down from the ceiling, wrapped itself around Steve's chest and yanked him out of harm's way before Bucky could take more than a few steps. Another swooped in and started spewing fire retardant all over the machine.

"Mr. Tony, are you okay?!" Steve exclaimed, dangling from mechanical arms up near the ceiling.

"I'm good," Stark coughed, emerging from the machine. Setting a good example for Steve, perhaps, he was actually wearing his own pair of safety goggles, and he pulled them up now, revealing two clean patches around his eyes while the rest of his face was covered in soot and white foam. "This is actually a totally coincidental but very good example of how A.I. works like it's supposed to."

"Huh?"

"So, one of F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s primary concerns is the safety of people in the Tower," Stark explained, grabbing a rag and wiping his face off. "So, that explosion happens right there, and I don't have to tell her what to do, because she already knows, and I don't have to tell her how to do it, because she can figure it out. She grabs you first, with just the right amount of pressure to pick you up but not so much that she crushes your ribs, and gets you away from the fire. At the same time, because she can think and act so fast, she puts out the fire, and you didn't see it because we didn't need it, but she was also getting a bunch of tools ready to crack this thing open and get me out if the fire didn't go out fast enough."

"Oh," Steve said thoughtfully. "I think I understand. So, if she was an A.I. that didn't have the rule to care about people, she might have hurt me getting me out of the way, or maybe hurt you because it would be more important to put the fire out fast and save the whole Tower full of people instead of putting it out a little slower and saving you too?"

Stark beamed. "Exactly!" He pointed up at Steve with the screwdriver. "You're a sharp kid."

Steve grinned, pleased that he'd gotten it right. "Um," he said looking around. "Can I get down now?"

"Sure," Stark said, waving a hand, and the robot arm holding Steve up lowered him down carefully until his feet were on the floor.

"Sorry your invention blew up," Steve said, nodding at the machine.

"Oh, that happens all the time," Stark said, waving it off. "I should probably let it cool down a little before getting back in," he said, and Bucky knew he was only saying that because Steve was watching. He smiled. Look at Stark, making smart choices and being a good role model!

"Ooh, I know!" Stark continued, walking to another corner of the lab. "I've got some refinements I can make to the new Iron Man suit. C'mere, I'll show you how an arc reactor works."

Steve hurried along behind him eagerly, and Bucky grinned, backing out of the lab. The little guy seemed safe enough, and it wouldn't hurt to leave him down here a while longer and let him keep being a good influence on Stark.

"Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" he said, stepping back into the elevator.

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes?"

"That was good looking out back there."

"Thank you, sir," the A.I. replied, sounding just the tiniest bit smug.

"You're gonna keep a close eye on them, right?"

"Indeed, sir," she said, a hint of a smile in her voice. "Mr. Stark can be a bit…over-zealous, at times. I'm taking special care with Captain Rogers in his current state. I was planning to inform you should any more incidents occur, in case you thought it best to remove him to a safer level of the Tower."

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," he said. That human side of the A.I. was pretty good. "You do that."

There were no more incidents in the lab, but about an hour later, F.R.I.D.A.Y. did chime in to alert him to something else.

"I thought you should know, Sergeant, that Captain Rogers is currently in the east stairwell on the 42nd floor, and my sensors indicate that he is beginning to show signs of respiratory distress."

Bucky jumped up, running for the stairs. "Is he having an asthma attack?"

"Not yet," she replied. "He has stopped to sit down and is using his inhaler, which I believe will circumvent any more serious problems."

Bucky nodded and hurried down the stairs, flying down the levels until he saw Steve sitting on the steps, taking a long pull from his inhaler. "Steve!" he exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

Steve looked up, surprised but relieved to see him. "Hi, Bucky! Yeah, I'm okay. I just got out of breath."

Bucky knelt down in front of him and looked him over, checking his breathing and his pulse and deciding F.R.I.D.A.Y. was right and no asthma attack was forthcoming. "What happened?" he asked, sitting down beside him.

Steve shrugged, still breathing a little heavily. "It's just a lot of stairs."

Bucky raised a curious eyebrow. "Have you been walking all the way up here from the lab?"

Steve nodded.

"That is a lot of stairs," he agreed. "Why didn't you just use the elevator?"

Steve blushed a little. "I can't reach the buttons."

Bucky smiled and didn't laugh, though he wanted to just a little bit. He slung an arm over Steve's shoulder so he would know the smile wasn't a mocking one. "You don't have to be able to push the buttons to use the elevator, you know," he said. He held out his hands in offer to pick Steve up, and Steve nodded and let him.

"I don't?" he asked.

"Nope," Bucky said, exiting the stairwell and moving for the elevator. "F.R.I.D.A.Y. can help you with that. You just have to ask her."

"Really?"

"Yep. Try it," he said as the elevator doors shut.

Steve looked up at the ceiling curiously. "Excuse me, Miss F.R.I.D.A.Y.?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, Captain Rogers?" the A.I. replied swiftly.

"Um, could you please make this elevator go up to the 59th floor?" The floor hummed slightly beneath them as they started their upward journey. "Wow. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied.

Steve turned to look at Bucky. "I didn't think of that. I thought she only listened to Mr. Tony."

"No, she helps all of us out," Bucky explained. "You just have to ask. Stark is her boss though, so if something you said disagreed with something Stark said, she'd listen to him."

"Usually," F.R.I.D.A.Y. cut in. "But Captain Rogers is very polite, and I do like that."

Bucky chuckled and Steve smiled shyly. "Aw, she likes you, Stevie," he said, poking him in the side and making him giggle. Because of course she did. Even ceiling robots had a soft spot for the little guy.

So, Steve has learned some things about robots, and Tony has found himself a little bit of closure.

Up next, Bucky has a nightmare, but Little Steve is on the case.