In the five days that had passed since the accident, the copious amounts of drugs that Summer was on had made her have dreams that were utterly bizarre, to say the least. She didn't dream of the accident or pain or idiot teenage drivers, but instead dreamed that she was a butcher chopping up steaks, an actress about to accept an Oscar for her riveting performance in a film co-starring Steve Buscemi of all people, and last but not least, she had dreamed the night after her leg surgery that she and Bucky had traded bodies. Which had gotten interesting (and even more bizarre) very quickly.
So, as a result, when she slowly woke up one morning hearing the sounds of a Mario Bros theme song being played in piano form, she assumed that she was dreaming of being serenaded at some classy piano bar by some musician who decided to randomly treat the patrons to Nintendo theme songs. However, when she began to slowly open her eyes and come to full consciousness, she realized that it was no dream, and somebody was actually playing a distinct Mario theme on a piano.
Blinking sleepily, she turned her head towards the sound, only to be met by a dull pain in her neck. She winced a little and tried to shift to ease the pain, but she couldn't move anything these days without causing some kind of pain somewhere, so she gritted her teeth and tried her best to ignore it as she looked across the hospital room to the two nearly-permanent fixtures in it.
David was sitting there next to Bucky, tablet on his lap and piano app open, both of his little hands tapping on the digital keys. Bucky was oblivious to this, busy typing something on his phone with his right hand, and Summer didn't say a word as she listened with increasing surprise. He was really playing the song. It was no drug-induced hallucination or random dream. Had he seriously taught himself the song in the last five days? And if so, how?
"David?" she croaked out, voice sounding hoarse from sleep and odd from the drugs.
As soon as he heard her, David's fingers stopped their movements, and he closed the app as if he had been caught doing something bad. He then looked up at her sheepishly, and she chuckled, "Hey, why did you stop? That was really good! How did you learn that?"
She got no answer, of course, just a smile that David tried to hide and Bucky putting his phone away as he got up and walked over to her bed.
She had been moved after her surgery to a private room on the seventh floor, and as she healed, a routine was forming. Bucky would bring David by in the morning and they would spend most of the day there, aside from when he'd take him to grab meals or snacks, and they'd while the day away with talking, movies, games that she could play from her bed, whatever she could think of to keep them both from dying of boredom. Well, David mostly. Her main concern with Bucky was keeping the perpetual frown off of his face.
"Morning," he said quietly, leaning down over her and kissing her forehead. She closed her eyes and tried not to sigh at how he smelled, which was like his soap back at home and coffee and just him, which was so much better than how the hospital smelled, and by extension, how she thought she smelled. Whenever she finally got home, she would take the world's longest bath to get rid of the disinfectant smell that was seeped into her pores.
"Hi," she replied with a smile as he pulled away, his hand holding hers as he gently mirrored her smile.
"How do you feel?" he asked like he asked each morning, and she gave him the same answer that she had given him each time.
"... I've felt better," she replied, watching his eyes flicker to her leg. It was in a brace now, and it was kept elevated at pretty much all times. The surgery had been fairly straightforward, no complications, though there was the chance that she would need more in the future to fully repair the damage. She had made a joke to Bucky while in the haze of fully coming out of anesthesia that now they matched, since one of her legs was partially metal, but he hadn't found it particularly funny.
She hated how much he blamed himself. It was written on his face, and nothing she said seemed to help in the slightest. In fact, the more that she assured him that he wasn't even remotely responsible for the accident, the more he seemed to utterly loathe himself.
She hated that even more because he had just started to feel somewhat good about himself again, and now it had all been wracked.
"David sleep good last night?" she asked, drawing his attention away from her leg with the question.
He nodded. "Yeah."
"Did you?" she asked more quietly.
He glanced down at their still-entwined hands, "I'm fine, Summer."
But he wasn't, and she could tell. He was functioning well and taking beautiful care of David - which made her love him immeasurably more - but there was something beyond his blaming of himself for her injuries that was causing the frowns and the darkness lingering behind his eyes. He wouldn't tell her what it was, and neither would Steve or Natasha, but she wasn't stupid.
She knew Bucky quite well by now, and the fact that the kid who hit her was in a coma seemed to be a clue as to his current state. Bucky had told her the very day of the accident that he would kill for her, and she had seen firsthand evidence of this. He had killed the HYDRA agents who had threatened herself and David the year before, and he had beaten Mark to an utter pulp just for showing up at her door. She could only imagine what he had done to the kid who had hit her and crushed her leg with his car and then tried to flee the scene.
She just wished that he'd tell her and stop acting like she was too frail to hear anything mildly upsetting at a time like this. There was a lot on her mind, yes, and waking up to the current state of her body had been a jarring and terrifying shock, but she was dealing with it. And it would have been easier to do so had she not been preoccupied with fretting over why he was hiding his own issues from her.
"I brought you food," Bucky said, gesturing vaguely behind him. "They still won't let me give you coffee though."
She nodded. "That's okay." He had been bringing her breakfast from the tower each morning, sparing her the horror of what was hospital cafeteria scrambled eggs. Some things were okay to eat in hospitals, but breakfast was just not one of them. She then smiled and said, "Thank you. You probably won't have to do this much longer."
He looked confused as he asked, "Why?"
"Well," she sighed, "I keep waiting for them to figure out that I don't have insurance and bounce me out of here. I don't even understand how the surgery happened. Any minute they're gonna figure it out and I'm gonna be in debt all the way to my grave."
Before Bucky could reply, there was a knock at her door, and they both looked towards it as it slowly opened. She expected Paul or Steve. Instead, a different familiar face hidden under yellow-hued sunglasses and a black hoodie slowly poked its way around the corner, took one look at them, and then disappeared as the man's voice said, "Yeah, Pep, this is her."
She was caught between laughing at Tony's disguise (none of these Avengers knew how to look non-suspicious, in her opinion, aside from Natasha who was a chameleon) and being stunned that a world-famous billionaire was apparently visiting her in the hospital. Pepper, being her boss, made sense though, and hers was the next face she saw as the woman glanced inside before stepping in with a look of pure concern on her face.
"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry it took me this long to visit," Pepper said apologetically as Tony trailed in behind her. She was dressed in one of her usual smart corporate boss-lady suits, but Tony looked like a post-grunge reject behind her. It was distracting. "Things have been so hectic and every time I had time to come it was either so late or you were in surgery - how are you?"
Slightly overwhelmed by the unexpected visit, Summer opened her mouth to reply only for Pepper to ask, "Did you get my flowers, at least? I sent them as soon as I heard what happened."
Summer nodded and pointed to the window ledge across the room, where several giant flower arrangements sat. Pepper's were there, as was one from Sam and Darcy that they had brought on their first visit, but the one from Steve and Natasha was the very biggest. It was the single most ridiculous flower arrangement she had ever seen, and Steve had refused to tell her how much it had cost him.
"Yep. I got them right after I woke up from the surgery," she smiled. "And then I started crying because of all the drugs and because people care enough to actually send me flowers."
Pepper sighed, now at her side while Tony stood next to her, and Summer didn't miss the cool but at least cordial nod he shot Bucky's way. It was more than what he would have gotten a few months ago. "I was so shocked when I heard. How are you? I heard that your prognosis is good."
She shrugged as best she could with broken ribs and general all-over soreness. "Yeah. The surgery on my leg went well, so I'm obviously getting to keep my leg, which is good. Just have to heal enough to start physical therapy." Not that I'll have a way to pay for it, she muttered inside of her head. She should have signed up for insurance at work when she had the chance, but the extra couple hundred out of each paycheck to add herself to coverage she did have for David had seemed way too steep at the time.
"Good, good," Pepper nodded, briefly touching her shoulder comfortingly. "I have a cousin who was in a car accident about ten years ago. It wasn't quite the same but her leg was broken in three places and she had to have surgery and therapy too, but she was back on her feet before her doctors had predicted. They said her attitude might have made the difference."
"Really?" Summer asked hopefully.
Pepper nodded. "Yeah. And you're young and healthy... you'll make it through this."
Summer couldn't help but smile. Across the room, she could hear David playing on his piano app again as she asked, "Well, thank you. Though I guess you're gonna have to have me replaced."
"Well," Pepper said, "we might hire a temp to fill in for you for now, or maybe move someone from another department, but you won't be terminated. Your job will be waiting for you when you're back on your feet."
As nice as that sounded, Summer knew that that could mean a year from now. And the thought of a year with no income made her burgeoning panic quadruple. Still, she smiled anyway and replied, "Thank you. I really appreciate that."
"Of course," Pepper smiled. "Oh, and it's a good thing that you signed up for coverage a few days before the accident."
Summer stared at the woman in confusion. Then Tony leaned forward, slid his glasses down his nose, and winked at her. Her eyes widened a little bit as they darted between the two people, "But... I didn't..."
Tony rolled his eyes. "Was the wink not obvious enough?"
"You signed up just in time for all of this and your physical therapy to be covered," Pepper said. Then she smiled and added, "Luckily."
"... Are you telling me that you guys committed insurance fraud for me because I haven't even had breakfast yet and I might cry now for an hour."
To her surprise, they both laughed at her words, and Tony merely shrugged as he said, "Fraud is so strong of a word. Let's just call it... a discretionary adjustment."
Summer laughed and it felt like fire against her ribs, but she couldn't help it. "Oh my God. I could kiss you both right now."
"Then you'd have to kiss Darcy too," Tony remarked, and at Summer's confused look, he elaborated, "When you were having your surgery, she was hanging out in the tower and made an offhand comment on how at least you have good insurance, working for Stark Industries."
"So I double checked to make sure that you actually did have insurance," Pepper added. "And when I saw that you had it for your son but not yourself..."
Tears of gratitude stinging her eyes, Summer leaned back in the bed and let out a deep breath. "I don't even know what to say. Thank you. I mean, I thought it was weird that they gave me this nice room instead of kicking me out and telling me good luck." Then she looked at them and asked slightly more quietly, "Why, though? You can't do this for all your employees."
Tony beat Pepper to the punch and said, "Believe it or not, we all actually like you, McDonald's. It's been unnervingly quiet with you gone. And besides, I can be basically Santa Claus when I feel like it. There's a kid in Tennessee who'll back me up on this."
She chuckled, and it still hurt her ribs, but she would endure. "Well, thank you. I owe you guys now. A lot."
Before they could assure her that she did not, there was another knock on the door, and then Steve and Natasha were there too. They dropped by just about every day, and as the numbers in the room continued to grow, Summer found it to be a wonderful distraction from the pain of her injuries and the maddening frustration of being stuck in bed. Bucky and David ended up closest to her, in two chairs next to each other at her side, and she ate the breakfast he had brought her while he lightly held her hand and she let chatting with everybody take her mind off of everything.
Hearing the story of her accident and everything that had followed it had been nothing short of surreal, and Natasha had filled her in on all of the details the day after it had happened (aside from what had happened with the driver, which even she had been cryptic about). From Steve lying to paramedics about being her fiancé and Natasha being the one to get Bucky to pull himself together enough to go and take care of David, it had all left her stunned to know now beyond the shadow of even her most stubborn doubts that she really was surrounded by people who cared about her. She thought that now she might have understood how Bucky had felt on his birthday, how stunned he was that everybody cared enough to stand in a circle and sing Happy Birthday to him. It was quite a thing to get used to after having next to nobody for a very long time.
In the course of the next half an hour, she had eaten, had Bucky help haul her to the bathroom to help her with things that she was pretty sure meant the official death of romance in their relationship (hopefully not, but still), and then had fresh doses of wonderfully helpful pain medicine after settling comfortably back in bed when there was another knock at the door.
Thinking it had to be Paul this time, she was again proven wrong and felt her jaw drop at the sight of a glorious blonde head instead.
"What has happened?" Thor asked, strolling in the room in dark jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt, like he was a model from Earth rather than Asgardian royalty, and his hair tied loosely back behind his head. He looked confused and troubled, then fearful when he saw Summer there in her bed. "Lady Summer! What terrible thing has happened in my absence?"
Being on the aforementioned drugs, she had no shame in gaping at him like a fish and only getting out a half-coherent "Umm..."
"When did you get back to this neck of the woods? Or branch of the tree or whatever?" Tony asked, now leaning against a wall with his glasses off but hood still on.
"Just today," he answered, still staring at Summer. "Can she hear me? Has her mind been damaged?"
She giggled and it didn't even hurt this time because drugs, man. "No, I'm fine! Well, I'm not fine, but my head is fine. I did get a giant concussion but it's getting better, so the main problem is my stupid leg here."
"What happened?" he asked, still confused and staring at her leg and the brace on it like it was something from positively prehistoric times.
"Car hit me while I was crossing the street," she replied matter-of-factly. "I bet this doesn't happen on Asgard. What do you use on Asgard? Horses?"
"... Yes," Thor replied hesitantly. "You are in very good spirits despite your injuries."
She then pointed to the IV in her arm and smiled, "I'm on so many drugs right now. And I just found out I have insurance, so I'm actually in a pretty good mood, and you look like a GQ model and it's really distracting and I'm gonna shut up."
"Mother of God," Tony said with wide eyes. "She's even better when she's under the influence."
"You should hear her singing Disney songs drunk," Natasha remarked.
"That was only one time!" Summer protested.
In the midst of this, Steve's expression grew confused and he turned to Thor and asked, "If you just got back to Earth today and we're all here, who drove you to the hospital?"
Just as Thor began to reply, the question got its answer in the form of Clint suddenly appearing out of seemingly nowhere - to Summer, anyway - and staring at her much like Thor had when he first walked in, asking, "What the hell happened to you, kid?"
She choked on a sip of water that she had been drinking, having not even heard the door open this time, and after forcing herself not to cough, she half-exclaimed, "Clint! Holy crap!"
He raised his eyebrows to her and glanced around at everybody, then said, "I heard something happened but nobody told me it was this bad."
"... You came all the way from the farm to visit me?" she asked in disbelief.
Clint glanced at her and then at Bucky and Natasha as he said, "She's doing that thing where she acts shocked that we don't all secretly hate her, isn't she."
"I can't help it!" she said, then she groaned and covered her eyes with her palms as she muttered, "Oh man, I'm gonna cry again. Dammit. This is so embarrassing. Yup, I'm bawling."
Bucky helpfully passed her some tissues when the waterworks started, and she tried not to be too humiliated over uncontrollably ugly-crying under the influence of drugs and of being slightly overwhelmed with the presence of, in her opinion, some of the most remarkable people who had ever existed. And they were there to see her.
It made it all the more hilarious when Paul finally made it there himself. He opened the door, walked into the room armed with a few movies and a bag of stuff from the store that she had requested, and then stopped short as he stared at the seven people currently there to visit his sister. Only six of which were actually human and all of which were kind of superheroes, minus Pepper, though an argument could have been made that she still basically counted.
They all briefly fell silent upon his arrival, and Summer gave him a giant smile with still-teary eyes and exclaimed, "Look! I have assembled the Avengers! Except for the Hulk who wouldn't fit in here anyway!"
"She still hasn't met Bruce, has she?" Tony asked nobody in particular. When Nat shook her head, he said, "Bastard's still taking the world's longest vacation in Fiji."
Paul stared at her, then at the others, and eventually he replied, "This is my payback for always saying my friends were cooler than yours when we were kids, isn't it?"
"It so is! In your face!"
Not only were her friends the coolest in existence, but they were going a long way in helping a very crappy situation feel a lot less crappy. So was the man sitting next to her, who was quiet throughout it all but ever-present, attentive and the first to jump at the chance when she needed help.
She didn't think twice when Bucky kissed her cheek gently and told her that he would be back shortly. She nodded, and with her brother there now to help keep an eye on David, she watched as he left the room. She might have been high as a kite and teetering on the edge of a nap already because of it, but she noticed that Clint also slipped out of the room relatively soon after, and she was glad for it. She wasn't the only one who needed extra support these days.
He'd been fine until Paul had showed up. Before that, it had felt like it used to in the tower when everybody was together and talking, making jokes and getting a kick out of Summer and her issues with her filter, albeit with a much sadder undertone. He was glad that she had all of them, and that they were all looking out for her. She deserved it all and so much more.
The issue was the instant discomfort that he felt now when Paul was in the room. They had been civil with one another ever since Summer had asked them to be, but Bucky hadn't forgotten the other man's words, and he knew he wasn't misinterpreting the looks of contempt that Paul would sometimes shoot him.
He didn't blame the guy. He still agreed with everything he'd said. But it didn't make being in the same room with him any easier.
So, he took a walk. There was a chance he'd feel better upon coming back, and while he was gone, he'd grab a cup of coffee and drink it all before he got back, so he didn't torture Summer with the smell of it.
The new routine wasn't terrible. It had been strange at first, having David stuck to his side all day long and then figuring out how to get him to go to bed on time at night, plus feeding him in between all of that and making sure he had everything he needed. The first two days or so, he had panicked more than once and considered begging somebody more qualified to take over, but for Summer's sake, he hadn't, and he was glad he hadn't. He felt much more comfortable with it now, and David wasn't much of a burden. In fact, he was a welcome distraction from the dark and irrational thoughts still swimming through his head.
Both he and David thrived on routine, and since their days had already been closely linked before, the transition hadn't been too dramatic of a thing. The hardest parts were the nights, though, since David never wanted to leave Summer to go home, and Bucky could sympathize. Everything would be better once Summer could come home and he could care for her there.
In the meantime, however, he tried to stay busy and not think about the kid in the coma, or how long Summer's recovery might be, or how Paul made him feel strangely like an intruder in Summer's life when he looked at him like he had little to no right to be caring for his nephew. He reminded himself of what Steve had said before, that Paul was simply still dealing with what had happened and was understandably angry and looking for something or someone to blame such a senseless accident on, but it really made no difference when Bucky was doing the very same thing and ending up meeting the very same conclusion.
He finished a cup of barely-passable coffee from the waiting room in two drinks and then dropped the cup into a trash can between two rows of chairs, then heard a voice behind him say, "You know they serve better stuff in the cafeteria."
Bucky turned around to see Clint standing there, hands in the pockets of his jacket. Bucky shrugged and said, "Probably tastes like dirt too."
"Probably. Get too loud in there for you?" Clint asked, falling into step beside him as he started slowly walking out of the waiting room.
"No. Just... needed a minute."
Clint nodded. "I'd ask how you've been but I think you might punch me in the face if I did."
He chuckled fleetingly. "Everything was actually pretty good until... this."
They continued walking, and Clint said, "You know there's no logical way you can possibly blame yourself for her getting hit in a crosswalk, right?"
Bucky didn't say anything, eyes cast forward with a slight faraway look to them.
"I mean, if you're twisting what happened in your head that much and actually making yourself believe it, you're in the wrong line of work. You should be an acrobat." He paused. "Or a defense attorney."
Bucky shrugged. "I always knew she'd end up getting hurt eventually. Just figured it would be HYDRA or somebody, not a stupid kid with a car."
"See, that, I could see why you'd blame yourself. But this? Come on, man."
"Her brother seems to agree with me," Bucky replied.
"I'm sure he's real objective," Clint said dryly. "Bet you haven't talked to the Doc about all this yet either."
Knowing he was referring to the therapist they both saw, Bucky shrugged again. "Nope." He shook his head and muttered, "He'd just suggest a new hobby and tell me to sleep more."
Clint chuckled. "He does harp on the hobby thing. Last thing he tried to sell me on was music. I bought a piano and anything. Didn't work out though. If you know anybody who wants to buy one, let me know."
Bucky nodded absently, only half hearing him because the hobby that the doc had suggested a long time ago and had actually helped - dancing - was unquestionably off the table. He wouldn't dance with anyone who wasn't Summer, and beyond that, he wouldn't dance until she was recovered enough to dance herself.
"It's real nice. Little antique thing. Probably made back in your day. You play?"
"What?" Bucky asked, snapping out of his thoughts.
"Piano," Clint replied. "Do you play?"
He shook his head to the negative at first, but then he remembered something that he had read in one of the stacks of letters that had come with the box that was Steve's birthday present to him. It had been a letter from his mother mentioning how she had visited her mother's home while he was away at war and had played on the piano that she had taught him on as a boy, and how it had made her incredibly sad but also brought back memories of happier days. She'd said how she couldn't wait for him to come back home for good and play for her again, regardless of how mediocre of a player he insisted that he was.
"I think I used to," he said quietly. "Probably not that well though. And I doubt I'd remember how to."
"You sure, because I'd give you a discount. I'm really sick of it being in my way at home."
"I... yeah, I'm sure," Bucky shrugged. "I wouldn't have anywhere to put it anyway."
"It's pretty small," Clint said. "And the rooms in the tower are pretty big." When Bucky didn't respond, Clint said, "Well, let me know if you change your mind. You do need a new hobby now. And self loathing doesn't count as one."
"Says who?" Bucky deadpanned. Clint chuckled through his nose, not knowing that those two words were the first semi-humorous ones Bucky had said in days. After a pause, he asked, "How long you in town?"
"Not sure," Clint replied. "Probably not long. Just wanted to make sure everybody was okay."
Bucky nodded. "I could tell it meant a lot to her."
"I said everybody," Clint clarified as they came to a stop outside of Summer's room. "That includes you. You're not alone, you know."
Bucky nodded, unsure of what to say. Eventually he settled on a simple muttered, "Thanks."
If he got half the support from his own mind and heart that he got from the friends that he was somehow lucky enough to have now, he wondered just how much better he would feel. Maybe one day, he'd have an answer to that question.
Eventually, the Avengers disassembled from Summer's room, leaving her alone with Paul and David after a very short nap, and she was once again being treated to the sounds of David's inexplicably good piano-app playing.
"Can you believe this?" she whispered to Paul, sitting in the seat that was usually occupied by Bucky. "How is he doing this?"
"I don't know," Paul admitted. "But when I was in med school I read about autistic kids who picked up stuff like this out of nowhere."
"I have too," she replied, "but wow. He taught himself how to play a Mario song on a freaking piano app. I wonder how long it took him to figure it out."
"If I was the one watching him, I'd be able to tell you that."
Mood instantly soured by that one single comment, Summer looked at her brother pointedly. "If you start this crap again, Paul, I swear..."
"Sorry," he muttered, "I'm not trying to be a dick, I'm just..."
"... Being a dick?" she guessed. "This is why Bucky's taking the world's longest walk. I wouldn't want to be around you either if you were looking at me like I was the one who personally ran over your sister."
Paul sighed. "Summer..."
"No, you know what?" She sat up more in the bed, wincing at how hard it was but managing before going on, "This is ridiculous. He had nothing to do with what happened to me and he is taking perfect care of David right now. You should be grateful that I'm with someone who's willing to take care of my kid and bend over backwards to help me right now. He actually loves me and if you knew him you'd see how this is ripping him up inside."
"You know what I know?" Paul replied. "I know that since the moment you met him, bad things have happened to you. You lost your house, you and David could have died in that attack on the tower, and now this happened, and..."
"And what?" she asked. "Didn't bad things happen to me before? Or was Grandma dying and Mark his fault even back then too, before I even knew him?"
"That's not what I'm saying."
"I know what you're saying," she said. "I'm telling you why you're wrong. You only see the bad things because you're never here to see the good things. You don't see how he treats me or how he dances with me. Danced with me," she amended quietly. "Or how he respects me and takes care of me. You don't see it because you're not there and he is."
Paul's face fell a little bit. "Summer -"
"I don't want to sound like a jerk," she said, suddenly fighting tears again, "but you've been gone for so long. I see you for a week or two here and there but that's it. Like right now you're here, but you'll probably have to leave in, what, two or three days."
"... Three," he muttered.
"Three days," she said. "But he'll be here when you're gone, and while you're off in your own world thinking how he's just the worst and the cause of all these awful things, I'll be here learning how to walk again and that'll suck but I'll be happy because I'll have him. And I won't be able to share that with you because now I know you hate him."
"I don't hate him -"
"Really?" she asked incredulously. "Because he sure thinks you do and I don't blame him. And by the way, I'm still pissed at you for trying to beat him up when I was knocked out. I get that you were in shock but it was a real dick move when he was already feeling like the scum of the earth."
"I know, I know, Steve already said all the same stuff," Paul sighed.
"He did? When?"
"Right after I hit him," Paul said. "He went to get David, and Steve - it still feels weird calling him that - stayed behind and talked to me, told me the whole story."
She narrowed her eyes. "And you're still being a jerk?"
He sighed again, and while for a moment he looked like he was formulating a defense of himself, he eventually paused and looked at her with a purely sad expression and asked, "Do you really feel like I... abandoned you or something?"
She let out a breath and dropped her head against the bed. "No. I mean, I used to. But I know why you went away to college in California and why you stayed there. I didn't for awhile, but..."
"You never told me any of this," he replied, somewhat dumbfounded.
She shook her head. "Because I knew it was stupid to feel that way. It's just that when you left, Mark happened, Grandma got sick, I got... hurt. And pregnant. And I felt alone and just..."
Paul briefly dropped his head into his hands and muttered, "I never should have left."
"Oh stop," she replied quickly. "You had a freaking scholarship to a top school in California. Then got that internship at one of the best hospitals in the whole country, and what was I supposed to say? 'Drop all of that and come back home because I'm whiny'?"
"Maybe," Paul replied.
"No," she shook her head. "That's stupid. And you found Sarah there and everything. You did the right thing. The only point I was trying to make was that you're not here. You don't know Bucky. And when you're a jerk to him or make snide little comments about things you know nothing about, it makes me want to kick your ass so hard your freckles fall off."
He stared at her for a moment, seemingly unable to come up with a response, and she found his silence rather satisfying. Normally they'd just bicker until they both got sick of it and dropped it, so genuinely telling him off was a rare occurrence.
"I'm sorry," he finally said. "I just... you're right, I don't know him, and maybe that's why I can't trust him. Well, that and the fact that he's the Winter Soldier and killed a ton of people over like seven decades, but..."
"See, you're gonna piss me off again," she said, raising her hand and dropping it for emphasis. "And I thought we were past this."
"... I'm not really sure that it's something I'll ever exactly get past, regardless of how nice he seems now."
"Then you know what?" She jerked her thumb to the right and said, "There's the door. Feel free to use it."
Paul stared at her like she was crazy, and also like she had just punched him the gut. "What?"
"You heard me."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes!" she half-exclaimed. "Because once again, you have no idea what you're talking about. You have no idea what he went through, what they did to him. I do because he's told me and I've seen it." At Paul's instant confusion, she clarified, "I saw a video. And it was..." She choked up immediately, clamping her mouth shut because the mere thought of that video made her heart ache and images flash in her mind that she desperately wanted to forget.
Finally, she settled on merely saying, "He's innocent, Paul."
"I know," he said quietly. "I've known that from the beginning and Steve said all of that too."
"Then you should listen to us," she replied. "And if you won't, then leave me alone because you're stressing me out and I've got enough to be stressed about without you adding to it."
Feeling immeasurably better with all of that off of her chest now, Summer turned away from Paul and focused instead on David, who had been listening quietly the whole time while still playing contentedly on the tablet. A few moments went by where nobody said anything, and she was halfway to falling asleep again when Paul finally spoke.
"I'm a douche. I'm sorry."
Blinking back the sudden sleepiness, she turned her head back towards him and looked at him for a minute before replying, "Yeah, but I do know why you've been a douche. And I'm not the one you need to apologize to."
"You're gonna make me talk to him, aren't you?"
She nodded. "Yup. You'll be off my poop list once you've apologized and accepted the fact that we're a package deal and that I'll punt you back to California if you're evil to him."
Paul leaned back in his chair and said, "Understood." Then he added, "Package deal, huh?"
She nodded. "Pretty much."
"No wonder you made that comment about getting married the other night."
Her eyes widened and she looked at him in sudden panic. "I said what?"
"Yeah. Don't you remember? It was the first time you woke up after the accident and you asked him why the doctor thought you were married. Then you said how you wanted to be able to actually walk down the aisle when you married him someday."
She remembered none of this. An embarrassed blush rose up on her face as she rolled her eyes at herself and sunk into the bed like she wanted it to swallow her up. "Oh my God. What did he say?!"
"Nothing," Paul replied. "You fell asleep right after you said it. He looked shocked, though."
"Good way or bad way?!"
Paul rolled his eyes. "Good. Duh."
"... Ugh. Why do I do these things," she muttered, running her hands over her face. "Next you're gonna tell me how I begged him to let me have his babies."
"Yeah, that happened the next time you woke up."
She gaped at him in utter horror.
He simply started laughing and said, "Kidding!"
She grabbed her spare pillow and threw it at him as hard as she possibly could, which was not very hard. "Stop being a dick, Paul! I'm gonna kill you!"
As serious as she was, in no time the siblings were giggling together, and deep down, she knew that Paul would come around. None of them had seen the accident coming and he had reacted the way that any overly protective brother would have, and whether it was right or wrong, it simply was what it was. She had faith that now that she had put her proverbial foot down, he and Bucky would eventually return to the peace that they had been at before this had happened.
She ended up asleep after a fresh dose of meds before Bucky came back to her room, and she missed the quiet conversation that the two men had.
When Bucky came back bearing lunch for David and saw that Summer was asleep, he glanced at Paul and instantly started to worry somewhat irrationally about what the next hour or so would be like if he didn't leave. Since it didn't seem like Paul would be going anywhere, he took the seat next to David, near the window of the room, and stayed silent as Paul mostly ignored him.
Summer, who had never been one for naps, now took at least three a day, thanks to the narcotics she was swimming in. He knew she didn't like the effects but whenever she'd wonder out loud about whether she should start cutting down on the drugs, he would insist she keep taking them. She'd have to switch to less effective oral drugs once she was home anyway, and he just wanted her in as little pain as possible. If it meant enduring hour-long silences with her brother, then he'd deal with it.
Which made his surprise all the more pronounced when Paul got out of the chair, moved it next to him, and then sat back down. Bucky turned and looked at him briefly in confusion, and then looked away just before Paul finally spoke.
"So. I've been a douche."
Bucky blinked, then looked at the other man again. Paul glanced at him and then looked down at his hands in his lap, clearly slightly uncomfortable with the conversation.
"I'm sorry for freaking out and and punching you. And for giving you the stink-eye ever since. And being a jerk about you taking care of David."
Bucky stared in surprise for a moment before muttering, "... You don't have to apologize. I understand why -"
"Oh yes I do," Paul interrupted. "She absolutely told me off before she fell asleep, in a way that I don't think she ever even has before. Actually totally reminded me of our grandma. But anyway... yeah. She said some things and made me realize some stuff I hadn't before. Now I feel like a total scumbag creeper idiot."
"You were angry and... shocked," Bucky shrugged. "So was I."
"Yeah, but... no excuse," he replied. "But as she pointed out while you were gone... I'm not here, and I don't know you, so I need to believe her and trust her instead of being a douche and blaming everything on you. It's just... it's hard, because I just realized why I think I reacted like that."
Bucky didn't say anything, instead sitting there and quietly watching as Paul took a breath and shifted in his seat, gathering his words. "Has she ever told you about how our parents died?"
"... Car accident," Bucky replied.
"Yeah, but did she tell you the story?" Paul asked, and Bucky shook his head. "Okay, so... our dad was a doctor. That's mostly why I'm one too. But anyway, he was a doctor and our mom was a nurse. That's how they met. You should have her tell you the whole story one day, because they were some real rebels back then. Jewish girl marrying an Irish-Catholic guy in a small town - gave my grandma a heart attack," he chuckled. "But obviously she came around, and they were older when they had us. My mom was like 46 when Summer was born. Total surprise. I thought I was forever an only child."
Paul paused to draw a breath again, and then went on, "Anyway... she was six when my dad took a couple weeks off work for a vacation. We were gonna go to Florida. Summer didn't know, but we were actually gonna go to Disneyworld. It was gonna be this big surprise, and I could barely keep it in but I managed. I couldn't wait to see her face when we got there. She was a tiny kid. She was still in a car seat because she was so skinny and didn't weigh enough to sit in the regular seat."
Somewhat dreading where this story was going, Bucky stayed silent and listened, noticing how Paul fidgeted the more he spoke. "Anyway, we had just crossed the Florida border when it happened. We were in a little sedan, on the highway, and this big truck was literally driving the wrong way, towards us. My dad swerved to miss it, hit another car, then someone else slammed into us and we ended up flipping a couple times. Like something you'd see in a movie. But what I remember the most was when the windshield shattered, right before we flipped, and you would expect it to be in just a million pieces, right? And mostly it was, but there was this huge piece of glass that came flying back towards us. I didn't see it but I had thrown my arm over her, not because I thought it would actually do any good but just because it was instinct I guess. I was twelve, I didn't know what I was doing. The glass hit my arm, which was over her chest."
Bucky then glanced down as Paul rolled up his sleeve to his elbow, showing him a large but faded jagged scar on the surface of his forearm. "It got stuck there and was really deep. But obviously it would have done her more damage if it had hit her where my arm was." Then he paused, rolled down his sleeve, and said, "We all had our seatbelts on but my dad was killed instantly. My mom was in the hospital for three days before she died from internal injuries. I just had some bruises and a concussion, and the giant cut in my arm. Summer barely had a scratch."
Blinking a couple times, Bucky looked towards Summer, who was still sleeping peacefully in the bed, and Paul cleared his throat before saying, "My point with all of that is that after that happened, I thought my whole purpose in life was to help take care of her and protect her. And I did, but then college happened and I got a scholarship that took me all the way across the country. I was halfway through med school when Mark happened. All of a sudden these bad things started happening to her and I was useless. I wasn't there. Grandma was, but she was dying, and Summer was taking care of her by herself while dealing with what happened and finding out she was pregnant and..." He paused, then sighed. "And I wasn't there. And I'm still not there."
Before Bucky could say a word, though he wasn't sure what he could possibly say, Paul concluded, "So I guess this sort of felt like that all over again. And instead of blaming myself I decided to take it all out on you, since you were the easiest target. So... I'm sorry."
Bucky shrugged vaguely, furrowing his brows as he muttered, "I blame myself too."
"Yeah, she mentioned that. She's probably gonna start slapping both of us soon if we both don't stop. I mean, rationally, neither of us are at fault here."
"Doesn't matter," Bucky muttered.
Paul sighed. "No. It doesn't."
Silence fell then, aside from David playing a game on his tablet and noisily eating his lunch. But, now that they were at peace and mostly on the same page, Bucky didn't feel uncomfortable or anxious anymore.
"Don't tell her this," Paul said, very quietly just in case Summer would wake any minute, "but I applied for a fellowship here in New York a few weeks ago. Not here in the city but a hospital that's like an hour and a half away. I have to talk to Sarah about it, but if they offer me a spot, I'm gonna take it. I want to be here to help her get better. I know she's got help from you and a bunch of superheroes, but still. I'm sick of never being there for her."
"She'd be very happy if that happened," Bucky replied quietly. Happy was an understatement - more like overjoyed.
Paul nodded. "I'm gonna try. I'll figure it out." Then he was quiet for a moment, gaze shifting to David for a bit before he said, "I'm also sorry for how I've acted about David. That might be the worst of it."
Bucky shrugged again, truly unable to hold any of it against the man. "It's no big deal."
"Actually, it is," Paul replied. "It's a very big deal, the way he is with you. He's been glued to her since birth and hated just about everybody else. Not hated, but you know what I mean. So it kind of hurt at first to see you taking care of him and how he trusts you but still doesn't trust me."
David glanced at both of them, then went back to ignoring them.
"Sorry," Bucky eventually said, because he had no idea what else to say.
Paul chuckled. "Don't be. I'm glad he's finally got a... well, a father figure."
Bucky tried not to wince, but he couldn't pretend to be comfortable with the term. He was pretty sure that father figures were supposed to have their own crap together and not be perpetually one step away from a breakdown, not to mention someone who didn't have a past filled with more blood than a donation center.
"But... do you think I could maybe take him for a walk or for a soda or something?" Paul asked. "I haven't really gotten to see him or talk to him once since I've been here."
Bucky nodded, finding it odd that Paul asked him first, but then, he supposed that this was part of being an acting parent in Summer's absence. "Yeah."
"Thanks." Then, to Bucky's surprise, Paul stuck out his hand and said, "So we're good again?"
He looked down at the hand before taking it and accepting the handshake. "Yeah."
"Good," Paul sighed. "Now Summer will stop trying to kill me and I can sleep better at night. I don't do well being a jerk. It's like this one time when I tried to be a sports fan. It just doesn't work and I end up whining about my failures in my replica of Tom Riddle's diary." Then he gave Bucky a side glance and said, "Don't judge me."
"I'm not," Bucky shrugged. Though he had no idea who Tom Riddle was, he was simply relieved that now, at least, things with Summer's brother were back to normal.
Now he just had to try to get the story of her parents' death out of his head before it made him feel even worse for failing to protect her.
The bed was warm, comfortable, familiar, like the body currently sliding on top of hers and making her gasp with sweet but maddeningly inadequate friction. There was not a stitch of fabric between them, nothing but the rustling of sheets and airy breaths and the occasional deep groan in her ear that made her entire body shudder pleasantly. It was perfect, absolutely perfect, if only he would just stop teasing her and finally give her what she needed.
His hands ran up her arms and then laid them on the pillow over her head, his right hand gently holding her wrists together as he kissed her deeply and let his metal hand trail down her overheated body. The contrast of cold and hot was almost too much, making her moan softly against his lips and say, "Please, stop teasing me..."
He groaned a little in reply, left hand reaching under her leg and pulling so that it circled his hip, bringing them even closer together but still not enough as he kissed down towards her neck. "What do you need?"
Unable to touch him because of how he was still holding her hands down, she arched against him instead and replied shakily, "You. You know that."
He hummed his understanding, nipping near her pulse point before dragging his lips back up to hers and kissing her softly. "I need to ask you something first."
She bit her lip, having no idea what to expect. "What?"
He kissed her again, long and passionately, grinding softly down against her and making her arch and moan all over again. When he broke the kiss, she looked at him with dazed, heated eyes, watching an expression of utmost seriousness cross his face and his eyes bore into hers like he was about to ask her something that would irrevocably change their lives forever.
Her nerves alight with anticipation, his left hand cupped her face and he stared at her intensely as he asked softly, "What does the fox say?"
Time stood still as she stared at him, previously heated expression turning highly confused as her brows furrowed and she blinked. "... What?"
His eyes narrowed and his tone dropped lower, belying the utmost of gravity. "What. Does. The fox say."
She looked at him, then to the left and the right, wondering if the apocalypse had come and this was her way of finding out. "Um..."
Suddenly the lights above them flipped on, and Steve was standing on the other side of the room, dressed in a big fluffy fox costume and holding his shield in one hand and a can of whipped cream in the other - which was even weirder than the fox suit - as he began singing the chorus of one of the worst songs ever shot to popularity through YouTube.
Thankfully, that was when she woke up.
Her eyes shot open and she awoke with a jerk, which made her instantly groan in pain, having rattled her whole body in the process. Wincing, she rubbed her hand over her sleepy eyes and opened them again, looking around the hospital room that she was still very much confined to, deciding that the drug-induced dreams were officially getting ridiculous.
"Another dream?" Bucky guessed, sitting at her side as usual and almost smiling at her sudden wakefulness.
She nodded, first asking, "Where's David?"
"Taking a walk with your brother," he replied.
"Oh. Good," she said, slightly surprised. Then she sighed and muttered, "That was the weirdest dream yet."
"Seemed like a good one at first," Bucky shrugged.
She gave him a cautious look. "... Why?"
"You were... squirming and... moaning," he said, fighting a faint grin.
Her eyes widened to comic proportions. "Oh God."
This time, he did grin, tilting his head a little as he said, "You can tell me about it if you want."
Blushing slightly, she said, "Well, we were... you know."
"... Having sex?"
"No," she shook her head. "Not yet anyway. You were being a jerk and teasing the crap out me. Then you got really weird and quoted a horrible song, and then Steve was there dressed up as a fox and holding a can of whipped cream for some reason. And singing." She then scrunched up her face. "And watching us."
Bucky's expression of amusement became decidedly more grossed out as he furrowed his brows and replied, "... I hope that's when you woke up."
"It was," she said. "I didn't want to find out what the whipped cream was for."
He nodded. "That does sound weirder than the body switching one. Not that I'd know since you won't tell me about it."
She smiled and shook her head. "And I never will."
He just looked at her and said, "I already have a fairly good idea of the first thing you'd do if you woke up in my body. And you were moaning during that one too."
She cringed and muttered, "It was really weird, okay, just leave it at that. Even if it was technically something I've already done like a zillion times. Well, except for the second part."
"... Which was?"
She shook her head. "Nope. Let's change the subject. Hey, this is the first time we've been alone since... actually, before the accident."
Surprisingly, that did the trick of indeed changing the subject. Bucky's expression grew more serious, and she was kind of sad to see it, since the last few minutes had been a rare instance of him being playful rather than broody and sad.
"Has Paul apologized to you yet?" she asked, shifting to get more comfortable in the bed, or at least trying to.
He nodded. "Yeah. We talked."
"And is everything okay now?" she asked a bit anxiously. She sighed with relief when Bucky nodded. "Good. I couldn't take anymore of the awkwardness and him looking at you like he wanted to kill you."
He nodded, but she could see that same dark look back on his face, despite the good news of Paul getting over his brief time of hating him. She knew why though, and had pieced it together already, but she just wished that he'd finally tell her himself.
"Bucky?"
He looked up at her, leaning on his arms down on the side of the bed as he shifted closer to her. "Yeah?"
"You know, I might not be a closeted math genius like you, but I can add two and two and get four." When he said nothing, she asked softly, "Why won't you just tell me what happened?"
His eyes then left hers as he cast them down and muttered, "If you already know then what's the point of me saying it?"
"Because something's eating you up and I hate it," she replied. She moved one of her hands to his right one, gently holding it as she added, "I know you don't want to 'burden' me with anything but I'm just really banged up, not useless or dead. Let me try to help you. Just talk to me."
A long moment passed where they were silent, and she watched as he turned his hand in hers, grasping it and running his thumb over the back of her hand as he stared at it and slowly came up with words to say.
When he did finally speak, it was barely above a whisper. "I thought the worst, Summer. Your head was bleeding so much. I thought he might've killed you." Then another pause, just before he looked up at her and admitted in a small voice, "I lost it."
"What did you do?" she asked gently.
He blinked a couple times, then looked away and said, "He tried to back up and drive away, so I grabbed the car and pulled it back. Destroyed it in front of everybody. Pulled him out and..." He paused and grimaced, then forced the rest of his words out. "It was a blur. I went numb. I would have killed him if Steve hadn't pulled me off of him."
In a strange way, it was a relief to hear him say the words out loud. She gave his hand a squeeze and asked, "Why did you try to keep it from me?"
He shook his head and looked up at her, misery apparent in his blue eyes as he replied, "It had been so long since I'd done anything like that. I was doing better. You said you were proud of me. And then with this, I just..." He looked away as he muttered, "I let you down."
Her chest suddenly ached, and it wasn't because of her broken ribs. "Bucky," she said in half-horror, "oh my God, no. No you didn't. Why would you even say that?"
He shook his head again. "I should have been there with you the whole time. If he wakes up and they find me..."
"Then we'll deal with it," she replied. "But don't for one second think that because you're human and you made a mistake that you let me down."
He looked at her a bit incredulously. "Beating a kid almost to death is just a mistake?"
"If someone hit you with a car and almost killed you, then tried to drive off, yeah, I'd want to kill them too," she said. "I'm not saying that you didn't screw up, but it's not like the kid was exactly innocent, either. You're human. You're going to screw up and make mistakes. That's life. Just like... accidents and stupid drivers. Stuff happens. The point of this," she gestured to the two of them, "is not hiding crap. I want to help you like you're helping me. I can't do it if you don't tell me."
He nodded half-heartedly, and when he had nothing else to say, she gave his hand another small squeeze to get his attention and said, "I know you blame yourself for what happened. And I also know it'll take a long time for you to accept this, but there wasn't anything you could have done to stop it."
He shook his head for roughly the thousandth time. "I hate this."
"Me too," she said quietly, seeing the threat of tears in his eyes. "And I'm really scared of going so long without working and how hard it's gonna be to walk again, but I am incredibly lucky to have you, and so is David. I don't even know how I'd do this without you. I mean, I would, but it would be a thousand times harder for both us. So thank you."
He nodded, his eyes lightening a just a tiny bit at those words. She smiled a little as he leaned in closer and kissed her forehead, and before he could draw away, she reached up and used her hands to guide him down for one of the first proper kisses they'd had since she had first woken up. Understandably, he was treating her like she was made of glass, but that didn't mean that she couldn't kiss him.
It was soft and sweet, over all too quickly when he pulled away and brushed aside a piece of her hair that had fallen out of the braid that Natasha had helpfully made for her earlier that day. It was such a lovely, quiet moment, rare these days and even rarer to be alone with just him, but unfortunately, her body forced her to ruin it.
"I would really like to just lay here and ask you to kiss me some more, but I think I'm gonna die if you don't take me to go pee."
He chuckled quietly, kissing her one last fleeting time before straightening up and beginning the arduous task of transporting her to the bathroom. First her various monitors and IV tubes had to be taken care of, and then there was the act of getting her from the bed and into his arms without jostling her or hurting her in one of the many places that were sore or in pain. She hated asking him for help with such a basic function, but she had no other choice, and until the doctors gave her some crutches to start learning how to hobble around on, she just had to get used to it.
Once he had carefully scooped her up and began walking carefully towards the bathroom, she held on to his shoulder and asked, "When I'm better, will you still want to have sex with me?" When he turned widening eyes on her and stared at her like she was nuts, she clarified, "Well, because you're kind of seeing me at my absolute worst right now and there's just something really awful about needing you to literally sit me down on the toilet so I can pee. It's like the death of romance once that happens, you know?"
He rolled his eyes at her. "No. I don't know."
"You can be honest, I don't mind," she said, and to her surprise, he stopped in his tracks and turned his gaze fully upon her, just shy of reaching the bathroom.
"I've never lied to you, Summer, and I'm not lying now. I'm never going to not want you."
"Even if I get really big and fat from laying around all day for months and live up to Tony's 'McDonald's' nickname for me?" she asked half-jokingly. It was far from one of her top worries, in fact barely even on her radar, but it could happen.
He stared at her for a moment, like he was sifting through a number of possible retorts before settling on, "You actually think that I would mind certain parts of you being even bigger than they already are now?"
Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. "It wouldn't all go my boobs."
"I wasn't talking about just them."
She raised an eyebrow to him and then said, "You make it really hard for me to be insecure, you know that? And that's really saying something, considering I'm in a hospital gown and I'm all fricked up and smell like a bottle of 409."
"Good," he replied, giving her a half-grin. "Because you do the same for me."
She smiled at him then, closing her eyes when he pressed one more soft little kiss to her lips before continuing on their way.
Nothing about what laid ahead would be easy, but in moments like those, believing that she would be all right - and that he would too - came as easy as breathing. At least, breathing with non-fractured ribs.
The end of the day came much like all the others had, with silent but determined protests from David when it came time for Bucky took him home from the hospital. He never got used to going home without his mother, and every time it was the same struggle, though it always ended the same way - Bucky having to carry him out of the hospital as the boy sniffled on his shoulder, hugging him with his little arms and not letting go until Bucky put him in the car.
He couldn't even be annoyed or irritated with David, because inside, he felt the same way about leaving Summer there in the hospital every night. He was trusting strangers to take care of her while he was gone, leaving her to sleep alone (except for the nights that Paul slept in the chair next to her) in an uncomfortable bed and unfamiliar space. The thing that made it bearable was knowing that she slept so soundly at night thanks to the drugs that it wasn't so bad for her. For himself and David, however, it was much less pleasant.
But, he had established a nighttime routine the first few nights that David had done well with sticking to. He'd take him back to the tower, give him a snack, let him spend an hour winding down with video games, then take him to his room and help him through his pre-bed routine. After that, he'd sit next to David on the side of his bed, and read him a story of his choice until he was asleep. It was mostly the same thing that Summer did with him, so it was familiar, and it got the job done. Then Bucky would sleep on a blanket on the floor, because he wanted to stay close to David but didn't trust himself in his current state to not accidentally punch a hole through the kid's head if he slept next to him.
On this particular night, once David threw on his pajamas (Iron Man ones tonight, as a change of pace), he dug through his little basket of story books before settling on one about Jack and the beanstalk. He handed Bucky the book and then crawled under the covers, rubbing his eyes and yawning as Bucky flipped it open to the first page.
The first night, he had read the story in such a monotone voice that David had actually smacked his own face in frustration. Then he tried to overcompensate by being too animated, which made him feel even stupider and David even more annoyed, but by the second night he had found a happy medium that seemed to work well enough. Now, reading the stories felt natural rather than uncomfortable, and he was finding some comfort of his own in the predictability of the routine.
But, as soon as he had read the first line of the first page, David did something unexpected and snuggled up to Bucky's side. He stopped reading for a few seconds, looked down at David, then moved his arm around him and turned back to the book.
He still wasn't sure what he really was to David, or what the boy himself saw him as, but he was starting to think that it didn't really matter. Whatever it was, whatever they were, it was something that had grown from absolutely nothing to something substantial. He didn't even know when it had changed, but his birthday had been when it had finally hit him. David handing him that little action figure painted to look like him, metal arm and all, had been the moment where he stopped looking at David as just Summer's son. Now David meant something to him as well, and he'd protect him just as fiercely as he'd protect his mother.
And that was why taking care of him wasn't a burden. It was rewarding in its own way, like these unexpected moments when David would literally lean on him, and while Bucky wasn't sure why the kid liked him so much and had grown so attached, he was glad for it.
He was nearly through the book when David had started to close his eyes, and he had turned to the last page when a sudden blaring alarm-style noise began ringing ear-splittingly through the very walls.
Not only did David jump about a foot into the air, but he did too, and suddenly his defensive instincts raged to life. He grabbed David and shielded him with his left arm as he looked around wildly before shooting off of the bed, carrying the boy with him.
He went to the door, only to find it locked. Just as full panic began to set in and he was sure that they were all under attack, the robot that lived in every wall in the whole damn tower essentially shouted over the alarms, "Sir, Mr. Stark wishes me to inform the residents of this floor that this is merely a test of a new alarm system gone very wrong. The tower is in no imminent danger."
Bucky stared at the wall like it had personally offended him, then rolled his eyes and allowed himself to relax. He wasn't on good enough terms with Tony to do it himself, so tomorrow, he'd tell Steve to chew the guy out for deciding to test out a new alarm system at this brilliant hour.
But before he could think too much on it, he noticed that the child that he was still holding was shaking. He looked down, shifted his arms so that he could see him, and then he could see David holding his hands over his ears and scrunching up his little face like he was about to burst into tears.
"Hey," he said, or rather yelled due to the still-blaring noises, moving back to the bed and setting David down on top of it. He grabbed his shoulders gently to get his attention and said, "It's okay. It's a test. Nothing's happening. Everything's okay."
He wasn't sure if David could hear him, but he also didn't think it mattered, because now he was crying and making an odd, low-whining sound in his throat. When he started rocking slightly, smashing his hands down over his ears so hard that it looked painful, Bucky remembered that he wasn't dealing with just any kid. He was different, and while Summer would have known what to do to help him, Bucky had no idea.
He tried first to keep talking to get David's attention, get him to focus on the sound of his voice instead of the alarms, but it was no use. He stood back for a minute, back on the verge of panicking as his thoughts raced on what he could possibly do to help. What would Summer do? He didn't know, because he had never seen David have a meltdown over noise before.
When the low whining turned into something more like a strained scream than anything else, he gave up trying to figure out what to do and instead sprinted for his phone on the table next to his bed. He'd just call Summer and ask her what to do instead of floundering stupidly.
But when he picked up his phone, his hand brushed a pair of headphones in the process that belonged to David. Just before he hit Summer's number on his contacts, a sudden idea struck him. He set his phone down and grabbed the headphones instead, then found David's backpack next to the bed and fished his tablet out of it.
He fumbled with getting the headphone jack into the right hole and then unlocked the device, kneeling in front of David and then trying to find the music on the damn thing. When he finally found it, there wasn't much, really just a handful of soundtracks from a few movies that David, so he clicked on the first one he saw and then grabbed the headphones. He pried David's hands off of his ears, which was no easy feat, and then put the headphones over them instead. Then he turned up the volume, as high as he could without damaging the kid's ears, and sat back, watching him carefully to see if he'd just throw the headphones off or freak out even more.
He did neither. He sat there, still crying and rocking a little bit, but the screaming stopped and his eyes calmed down a little. Overhead, the alarms were still going, but now they were being drowned out, and when a full minute had passed, it seemed like the music idea had worked.
What Bucky wasn't expecting was David then jumping off of the bed and throwing himself right into his arms on the floor, but that was exactly what he did. He didn't just hug him - he burrowed into him like he was the only safe place to be in the entire room, maybe even the whole building. After a few seconds spent regaining his bearings, Bucky wrapped his arms around the boy and straightened up some, shifting so that his back was to the bed, and David curled himself up against his chest like a toddler would to their father after a particularly bad nightmare.
Then the alarms stopped. Everything was finally quiet, except for the still-slightly rapid breaths that David was taking, and the sniffing back of leftover tears. It was also then that Bucky noticed the sound of his own breathing, which matched David's, and he closed his eyes and sighed his relief that it was over.
His right hand ran comfortingly along the back of David's head, and as the room grew even quieter, David grew calmer and calmer until his breaths evened out and his trembling stopped.
Bucky, meanwhile, had no idea that the song he's chosen for David to calm down to was "You've Got a Friend in Me" from the Toy Story soundtrack, and by extension, he had no idea how perfectly fitting it was and why it was so effective in helping calm the boy down. He thought it was just the familiar noise of it, canceling out the jarringly loud alarms, and to a point, it was. But it was also more.
And awhile later, when Bucky realized that David had fallen asleep in his arms, he sighed one last time and ran his left hand over his own face, taking a minute to process what had just happened. He couldn't believe that he had actually figured out a way to help on his own. He'd been sure that this was going to be a disaster, an all-night thing, because he wasn't Summer and he didn't know David like she did and he wasn't what the kid needed.
Now that the opposite had happened, and David was sound asleep in his arms, he had no idea what to think.
After a few moments, he carefully stood up and moved to the top of the bed, where he laid David down and then drew the covers over him. David stirred only a little, snuggling into the covers and letting out a deep breath, officially out until the next morning.
Bucky watched him for a moment, still unsure of what exactly to think of it all. Then he wandered to the bathroom, his last stop before going to bed himself, and ended up staring at his reflection in the mirror for just a moment longer than he intended to.
He was a lot of things. Some good, some not, a lot that fell somewhere between and wasn't as easily defined. There was plenty that he'd change if he could, even more that he wished he didn't want to change. He wished that he was as simple to understand as Summer, Steve, Sam. Instead he felt more like he belonged filed into the same category as Natasha, which wasn't a bad thing. It just made understanding himself and who he was all the more complicated.
But Nat, who had called Bucky a mirror of herself, had apparently known something long before he had. Today, Paul had echoed the same sentiment, and the words rattled through his head like phrases and terms from a language he wasn't familiar with.
Parent. Father figure. These were not words he would have ever chosen to use in association with himself, nor did he think anyone else would have either, and yet here he was.
It was terrifying to think that a little person, completely innocent and apart from the world at large, might look at him like the father he'd never had, or at the very least, a man that he saw as worthy to fill that role. It was a weighty thing, a sort of pressure that could have taken his breath away if he had let it.
He searched for reasons for it to feel wrong, to poke holes in the theory and shoot it down. When he came up short, there was nothing left to conclude aside from the fact that it actually felt very right.
So had Summer's drug-induced remark about marrying him someday and being able to walk down the aisle when she did. All of it felt right, and if he let himself, he could envision all of it in his head like it was a movie some tiny part of him had already caught a glimpse of and knew would be nothing short of amazing.
But, at the same time, the timing wasn't right for any of it. So, he turned away from the mirror, turned off the light, and headed for his little spot on the floor next to the bed. He left the thoughts where they laid, and filed them away for a later time when Summer wasn't injured and immobile, and he wasn't recovering from his most violent outburst in recent memory.
Someday, the timing would be right, and he would allow those thoughts to resurface. Summer would be better, he would be better, and then maybe, if they were lucky - all three of them - all of this would end up meaning something even more.
He was patient. He would wait.
One day at a time.
A/N: So! :D With the release of AoU, this story is now officially AU and highly inaccurate to the MCU regarding several things (which I will not mention here because spoilers, duh) but that's what I was expecting of course, and, well, I like my version better in some ways lol. I'm still digesting the movie, which I saw Thursday night. I have some issues with some of it but for the most part, it's still an amazing movie and if you haven't seen it yet, GO SEE IT. I am still giddy and jumping up and down inside over it (*cough* Scarlet Witch *cough* instant flailing fangirl *cough*) Don't believe the overly negative stuff going around on the Internet saying it's terrible. It is not. The "love story" in it is, but... well, we already knew it was gonna be awful lol.
Anyway! Thank you guys so much for reading & reviewing, as always, I love you bunches. I have both the next chapter and a oneshot in the works at the moment, so I will see you all next week with probably both of those :D