...Ground floor….
"What the hell Steve! Why was he being like that? Just because he could do whatever and get whatever he wanted with Stark doesn't mean that's how it's going to work out here too." Bucky's voice was assertive, like how Steve was at the kitchen island when producing rules for the party, when Peter's episode had begun unbeknownst to everyone but Steve. "I'm not gonna stand by and have some little brat scream at me like that!"
"No, no, no, no, no! Please tell me that you didn't call him a brat - anything but that - please?" Steve was desperately begging, hoping that it was him that wasn't listening properly and Bucky said something entirely different. He was praying that he just misunderstood what Bucky said mistaking it for another word (like twat or something - anything would be better at this moment) and that he made a blunder with his hearing.
"Well, yeah. He was acting like a little brat..." Bucky was cut off by Steve's cries, something he had never experienced in the past 16 years. Since the birth of his youngest biological son, since he sacrificed the first chance of happiness to raise three boys with his Stevie instead of two for the sake of Tony freakin Stark of all people - what a mistake that turned out to be.
"Awh no, I should've warned you and Logan and Quill before we had breakfast. Shit, oh holy fuck!" It was at this point that something clicked in Bucky (if Steve reacted like this, it only meant on thing… this was more serious than Bucky first imagined). This time it was Steve's eyes that were streaming with tears. Bucky couldn't escape the imagery of how he caused his youngest son to cry and that now refracted onto his hubby to be. The sound coming out of Steve's voice box were the same four words being repeated - 'should've told them before'. Now his youngest son was probably panicking at the this whole new concept of living with people he's just met. Thinking he was a burden again thanks to Tony Stark - that bastard would never be forgiven for what he's caused in Bucky's and Steve's precious son.
"Stevie, what should you have warned us of?" Bucky spoke softly trying to calm him and ultimately pulling Steve away from the constant supply of thoughts in which he felt completely responsible for what had just unfolded. This would be the only way he could find out what he meant.
"He's got a lot of baggage Buck." Steve's sobs caused him to choke over his words as he began to explain to Bucky exactly what he meant. "I mean do you know any adults at all that suffer from major severe anxiety, depression, PTSD, bipolar and are causing themselves harm because that's the only control they feel they have over their life." The shock of what Steve was describing left Bucky speechless. He was now feeling similar to Steve, he felt helpless and although he wasn't very aware of Peter's life in the past and his conditions - the guilt he felt was destroying him (as if he was being torn apart cell by cell. Turning into dust to be carried along with the wind). "He's suffering with so much mental health. And even though he has been diagnosed by many professionals, he refuses to show any weakness - that evil man has inserted thoughts into his head. He won't seek help and won't talk to me about anything like that. Buck he's only 16. Our baby boy of the family is just 16. How is it even possible? Why him? He doesn't know that I know Buck, he doesn't know." Bucky held his partner close to his own body and the 'tough guy' exterior wasn't broken, it was shattered into a number that probably doesn't even exist. Tears fell down Bucky's face.
"Steve, baby it's going to be okay. We'll figure this out together." Nothing in that sentence could be faltered for another meaning and Bucky really did mean it. His family might be broken… but broken things can be repaired, fixed, resolved. He would be damned if he didn't try. No if he didn't guarantee the fixture. "Together okay? Together. But you need to tell me what you mean by 'he doesn't know that I know'"
"The harming Buck, he doesn't know that I know. I mean didn't you notice how thin he was? He just makes excuses to skip meals, to do anything but eat and even if he does eat - he'll have the tiniest bit, less than what a baby eats." At the mention of that, Bucky eyes moved to look at the plates left on the kitchen counter. On one of those plates remained a small stack of pancakes, all that was taken from it was the smallest fraction, a literal pinch. Steve continued his teary exposition. "That's not the worse thing he's doing Buck. He's forcefully making himself vomit and I just don't understand. With how little he eats, how is it possible - there's nothing for him to bring up. Then there's the sit ups he does way too much of. Back at that bastard's place, I walked past his room a few weeks ago whilst he was changing. Obviously he didn't notice me, but… and I'm not exaggerating… his spine is fully noticeable and the bruises that surround it. I dread to think of what the front of his body looks like - no actually I'm terrified to see our boy withering away to the bone." As well as Bucky's shirt that was completely soaked through by this point, Steve's shirt was not far behind as Bucky's tears picked up pace. "He's trying to hide it all with his baggy clothes and false happiness. It's not fooling me Buck, I can see it clearly. Our child is dying right in front of us and there's nothing I can do. He needs help, we must get him help before its too late! I don't think I would survive if I lost him Buck!"
The tears from Bucky had now reached maximum velocity as the downpour continued. "We will Stevie, we will. We'll get him the best help we can find. Hell if he needs to talk to someone he can trust, we'll ask his uncle Sam. Sam will be able to help, surely!" The last sentence came out as more of a questioning statement than a defining one.
Steve continued speaking about his and Bucky's little boy. "You know, before we left to come here?" Bucky nodded in affirmation as the two men were slowly, but surely beginning to regain the breath they lost through their emotional turmoil. "Tony and I were arguing over that little blessing in disguise when Peter walked in returning from a friend's house. He lifted a finger and pointed at our boy and called him a 'brat' and told him that he wasn't his father. I know you may be thinking otherwise after his outburst - but that's not him I swear - he isn't a brat. He always, without a doubt, did his own washing, cleaning, everything. He refused to allow the workers to work for him, he would always say something along the lines of 'it's against their rights to be used as slaves, work isn't cleaning after someone else's mess'. The workers always told me how Peter was such a polite and delicate boy. That he isn't like other kids his age." Oh how wrong Bucky's assumptions were. The guilt he was feeling before somehow managed to multiply. He genuinely believed that Peter would be spoiled and ungrateful - after all, he was raised by a billionaire know for his selfish antics - not a person who knew the world didn't revolve around them. "Even when Tony insisted that's what the workers were for, Peter refused to let them be personal slaves for him - he always argued that they were humans like him and like Tony. Obviously Tony would scoff at that and pretend he didn't hear our boy referring to us and them as being the same." Bucky's face, although still filled with tears, contorted into one of pride and joy. His boy managed to remain uncorrupted from Stark's tryranous ways.
Steve continued to show how perfect their baby was. "He never has asked or asks for anything new or expensive. It takes an awful long time to convince him to get the essentials he needs because he doesn't want to come across as needy or a burden. A burden! Tony instilled the idea that he was a burden and a brat. I mean if he's a brat than what would you call a real bratty person?"
Bucky took the helm of the conversation. "I never knew how perfect my baby really was." Steve just nodded in agreement (like he said previously, that boy was an angel sent in disguise). "I must make a confession!" Bucky blurted out. "Not being able to hold in my arms, him not knowing that I'm actually one of his real daddies has killed me for the past 16 years. Now he's here, I don't think I can ever let go again." Bucky stood ending the heart-to-heart with his hubby. "Quill, Logan. Please come down stairs." At command both of the eldest sons came down and stood waiting for further instruction from their dad. "Please stay here with your pops." Without any refusal or whining the boy's made their way over to sit with their pops.
As Bucky began to leave Steve called put in curiosity as to where Bucky was leaving to. "Honey, where are going?" His voice sounded raw due to the amount of sobbing they both experienced.
All Bucky's reply back was, "To sort this out. Our baby needs us". Steve nodded his head, whereas Logan and Quill looked to each other in confusion - most likely the choice of words ('our baby') their dad had chosen.