Tell me everything you need
All the secrets that you keep
Even if it takes all day
Even if it takes all night
I can put the world on hold
So you and I can be alone
Even if it takes all day
Even if it takes all night
I would do anything for you
I always will put you before me
- "You Before Me" by Hoobastank
As much as Steve and Bucky would have rather not learned anything more about the dreadful things Hydra had done with Project Legacy, they knew they couldn't just ignore the files forever. Bucky had shown Steve most of what he'd uncovered on his own, but there were thousands more files to go through. They could devote hours upon hours to Jake's records alone.
So, in the interest of finding more ways to help Jake adjust, Steve and Bucky agreed to go look at the files again while Jake was taking his afternoon nap. Jake had given Steve an odd look when he'd given him an MP3 player with a built-in speaker, on which he could play the language recording. Steve had shown Jake how to turn it off if he didn't want to listen to it anymore, but he hoped that the recording would help Jake relax. And maybe they would think of something else they could do once they dug deeper into the files.
As they headed down the stairs to the second floor, Steve tried to steel himself for whatever new atrocities they would uncover. When they reached the living room, he automatically looked over at the conference room where Natasha and Clint had parked themselves ever since returning from the Hydra base. Today, however, the lights were off and the room was empty.
Steve turned to share a puzzled look with Bucky, then spotted Natasha standing at the counter in the kitchen area, dipping celery sticks into a mostly-empty peanut butter jar. "They're gone," she called to them, biting into her celery stick with a loud crunch.
"What?" Steve crossed the room so they wouldn't have to shout.
"The files," Natasha said, pointing her celery stick at the empty conference room. "The Hydra files. They were gone when I came down this morning. Completely wiped from the hard drives."
"How's that possible?" Steve wasn't always clear on the finer details of how computers worked, but Tony had designed the compound's security system himself, so surely there was little chance of someone...hacking in, or whatever it was called.
Natasha stopped chewing for a second, looking surprised. "Wait...you didn't tell Tony to delete them?"
"What? No! Why would I...did you say Tony...but there was valuable information in those files!"
"I'm sorry," Natasha said. "I assumed you'd asked Tony to do that...figured there was a good reason..."
"No, there was no reason—" Steve cut himself off, running a hand through his hair and drawing a deep breath. His fuse was much shorter these days, but there was no sense in losing his temper before he even had all the facts straight.
"Thanks for telling me," he finally said, nodding to Natasha. "I'll get to the bottom of this."
Bucky, who had been trailing along silently behind him, made to follow Steve down the stairs in search of Tony. Steve pulled up short, catching a glimpse of an uneasy expression when he glanced over at Bucky. Tony had set aside whatever bitterness he might feel toward Bucky, in favor of their mission to save innocent lives. But the pain would still be very raw. Tony had been keeping to himself most of the time since his return, and as far as Steve knew, he and Bucky hadn't come face-to-face yet.
This conversation was probably not the right setting for that confrontation. If there was a right setting.
"Hey, Buck...could you go and keep an eye on Jake for me? I don't know how long this'll take, and I don't want him to be alone when he wakes up..."
Their eyes locked. They both knew the real reason behind his request, but Bucky didn't protest. He just gave Steve a sad half-smile. "Sure."
Steve found Tony exactly where he expected to: in his lab. Tony's fingers were flying over one of his holographic screens, which was filled with colorful diagrams that twisted and turned in response to his movements.
"Tony, we need to talk."
Tony's back had been to the door, but he didn't look surprised when he turned to face Steve. He looked more resigned than anything. "Oh, am I in trouble now? You here to put me in time-out?"
Realizing he'd crossed his arms over his chest, Steve let his hands drop to his hips instead. "I just need to know why you deleted those files. We hadn't finished analyzing them, and—"
"Hey, cut me a little slack here, okay?" Tony cut in, his voice rising. "I've got the CIA breathing down my neck, Secretary Ross calling me every day like a clingy ex, and do I get any thanks for making sure they'll let us look at the files once they're done with them? No, of course not..." He rolled his eyes and started to turn back to his work.
Ross is calling him too? But that thought got pushed out of his mind by the rest of what Tony had said. "Wait...once they're done with them? You mean you gave the digital files to the CIA too? You just handed them over without even telling me?"
The shifty look in Tony's eyes said it all.
Steve stared at Tony for a prolonged moment. It was like looking at a stranger. Since when did Tony Stark roll over and show his belly as soon as someone ordered him to? Going behind the team's back and doing something risky—yes, he could absolutely believe that. But...bowing to authority? Letting himself be intimidated by someone like Ross?
"What were you thinking?" Steve demanded. "First you get the CIA involved with the raid on the bases, now you give them all the information we have on Project Legacy? There's very sensitive information in those files—information on my family, on Bucky's family—"
The name sparked something in Tony's eyes. Taking a step forward, Tony growled, "You know, there was plenty of info on Project Legacy in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files, the files that you helped uncover two years ago, and I don't remember you jumping at the chance to find out what Hydra was up to then. And guess what? Those files are all over the internet, so anyone with the right skills can find out exactly how Hydra ruined my family."
Clenching his teeth, Steve tried to keep his voice level as he said, "Tony, that's not fair and you know it—"
"That was your choice!" Tony was practically shouting now. "You could have looked at the files immediately—hell, you could have asked me to do it for you—but instead you chose to go running off with your war buddy for two years. Did you know? Did you know all that time that he was the one who—"
"Of course not; I found out right before you did. The only reason you didn't hear it from me is because Bucky wanted to tell you himself."
"Cut the crap, Rogers; I know you'd do anything to protect your family."
"Whereas you are apparently ready to turn us all in at the slightest provocation."
Tony swore, slamming a fist onto his workbench. "My hands are tied, okay? I don't know if you've noticed, but we're under a lot of scrutiny right now. That's kind of what happens when you cross international borders and leave a bunch of bodies behind. We can't make any wrong moves—"
Steve couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are you saying we shouldn't have gone to stop Project Legacy?"
"No, I'm saying there are consequences to what we do when we're trying to save the world, and we have to face up to them."
Well, at least he took something to heart after Ultron, Steve thought. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, trying as hard as he could to believe Tony's intentions, at least, weren't malicious. "Look," he said slowly, attempting to keep the discussion on track, "I don't disagree, but this is different than just having a spotlight turned on us because of collateral damage."
Tony turned away with an impatient huff, but Steve kept talking.
"We signed up for this job, and we have to face the consequences, but your actions are affecting the privacy and security of Hydra's innocent victims. Do you understand me? Tony, look at me when I'm talking to you!"
Tony whirled back to face him and snapped, "Shut up. You can't just choose to walk in and be a father whenever you want, okay? They never had any privacy, and that's Hydra's fault, not mine, and I did what I did because we can't afford to make enemies of the U.S. government, for crying out loud. And no, I'm not sorry for not telling you first, because I knew this was exactly how you'd react. This was the right thing to do, the only thing to do, so you can take your Eyebrows of Disappointment and shove them right up your—"
Those were the last words Steve heard as he stormed out of the room and down the hall.
Bucky tried not to keep glancing at the clock, but he couldn't help it. He'd watched Tony's flashy sports car roar down the drive twenty minutes ago, but Steve still hadn't returned. What was Steve doing? What had Tony said?
Finally, Bucky passed Jake over to Sam, who agreeably started showing him how to make a smoothie. Leaving the two of them in the kitchen, Bucky headed downstairs to look for Steve.
It took him several minutes of searching, but he finally found Steve in the otherwise-empty exercise room. The room was large enough to accommodate all of them at once, with several treadmills, bench presses, weights, and other exercise equipment set up in rows like a professional gym. In one corner hung a punching bag that Steve had explained was made of some kind of material strong enough to hold up even under their strength. Steve stood in front of it now, pummeling the bag as hard as he could, as if it had done him a personal injury.
As Bucky slowly approached, he watched Steve closely. Sweat rolled down his forehead, and his jaw was clenched in anger. There was a heat in his eyes, in the puffs of breath that rushed from his lungs with every blow, that somehow reminded Bucky of the old days. The days when Steve had been skinny and had thrown punches that even a kid could block easily. It made him think of all the times he'd pulled Steve back from starting a fight with a bully who could have squashed him into jelly.
Steve was big and strong now, and could hold his own against just about anyone. But Bucky felt the same old instinct to pull him back from the edge before he got himself killed.
He leaned against the nearest treadmill and called out, "What did that poor bag ever do to you?"
Steve glanced over, but didn't stop or respond.
Clicking his tongue in irritation, Bucky stepped a little closer. "You didn't even wrap your hands, Stevie. You're going to hurt yourself."
When Bucky grabbed the punching bag to keep it from swinging back and forth, Steve finally stopped, fists still raised.
Bucky reached out and grabbed one of Steve's wrists, shaking his head over the red marks on his knuckles. It would take quite a bit of force for Steve to break the skin this way, but from all appearances, Steve would get there soon if he kept going like this. Bucky took Steve's other hand in his and gently pried his fists open. "You're going to bruise if you're not careful. I taught you better than this."
Steve let out a huff and pulled one of his hands away, but only to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Doesn't matter," he panted. "Needed to...let off some steam."
"What happened?" He carefully covered Steve's knuckles with his cold metal hand, hoping it might help soothe them a little.
With a sigh, Steve sank down on the nearest bench press. "Tony didn't just delete the files, he gave them to the CIA."
Bucky frowned. "I thought you said he didn't tell them we found any files."
"Well, apparently he has now." Steve still sounded irritated.
"Why would he do that?"
"Because he's afraid." Steve got to his feet again and started pacing back and forth. "That's always what happens. He's afraid of the consequences, so he goes behind all our backs and does something—" He cut himself off, running an impatient hand through his hair. "This is just like Ultron," he muttered.
Bucky hadn't been with Steve for the Ultron fiasco, but he'd heard the whole story, and he thought Steve might be stretching it a little bit. At least Tony hadn't made an evil robot this time. "Look, Steve...what's done is done. We can't change that now."
Steve swiveled to look at him in frustration. "But it's your records! And Jake's. And Mabel's. And Eve and Grant and...all the others. Now the government has access to...everything. They'll know more about us than we will. And what if someone uses that information against us?"
As Steve paced past him again, Bucky caught his arm to get him to stop. "I think you're forgetting that Hydra already had all this information on us and our kids. We've never had privacy, Steve. Not really. And I would trust just about anyone with this information more than Hydra. Do you really think it could get much worse than it already has?"
Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath, visibly calming himself down. Finally, he nodded and looked up at Bucky again, clasping his shoulder. "You're right. Sorry."
Bucky slung an arm over Steve's shoulders and guided him towards the door. "I'm always right, punk. Now come on, we're making smoothies."
As they approached the end of the first month since the raid on the Hydra base, the Avengers compound slowly settled into a sense of normalcy. Tony hadn't returned since storming off after his argument with Steve, but everyone else remained on-site, training and staying prepared for the next time something big cropped up.
Sometimes, Bucky wondered if the Avengers would have been going on more missions if Jake weren't in the picture. Maybe there just weren't as many terrorists or mad scientists trying to take over the world in the dead of winter. Maybe they were all hibernating.
Regardless, he was pretty sure they were all grateful for this respite. After the emotional roller coaster they'd been through, it was nice that the only thing he needed to focus on was helping Steve get Jake acclimated to normal life. It had taken a bit of work, but eventually Bucky had managed to convince Steve to go back to training with the other Avengers during Jake's afternoon naps. Now that they no longer had the files to go through, Steve didn't really have anything to do during those hours except hang out with Bucky.
And as tempting as it was to keep Steve all to himself, Bucky wasn't going to be that selfish.
So every afternoon, after Steve got Jake settled with his MP3 player, he would go down to the training rooms and work on group maneuvers with the others. Sam would join him, of course, leaving Bucky behind to keep an eye on Jake. He usually spent the time reading or working on more language recordings.
Sometimes Steve would get back before Jake woke up, but other times training would take longer than expected, and Bucky would have to figure out a way to entertain the kid by himself. He did his best, but it was awkward without Steve there. He always felt like Jake was eyeing him warily, like he was afraid Bucky would grab him by the ankle again. Knowing he probably looked pretty intimidating compared to Steve, Bucky did his best to smile and speak gently.
One day, he ended up finishing his next recording only fifteen minutes into Jake's nap. He liked to keep each recording about an hour long, just to make it easier to navigate between them. Once he saved the file on his phone, he drummed his fingers on the desk, trying to decide what he could do to fill the rest of his time.
Eventually, his mind drifted to his weapons. What with everything crowding his brain since the raid, he'd neglected to take care of them. He'd just shoved them back into his gun safe and left them there. How irresponsible of him.
Bucky's gaze drifted over to Jake's closed door. The kid would be asleep for a while still, right? He'd have time to clean one of his pistols, at least.
It took a little while to gather up all his supplies and find an old towel to protect the surface of the desk, but once he actually got to work, Bucky immediately relaxed. Maybe it was strange that he found gun maintenance relaxing, considering the terrible memories associated with those weapons. But the metal under his fingers, the smell of oil, the familiar motions...it was natural. Soothing. Almost...nostalgic, in a way.
He tried to focus on what his hands were doing, cleaning every part of his pistol more meticulously than he normally would. But it didn't take much conscious thought, so his mind began to wander.
What had he been doing a year ago? Last winter, his hands had strayed to something else that was just as familiar, but any relief had been false and short-lived. He glanced at his right sleeve as he worked, imagining he could see the scars through the fabric.
What day had it been? What was the date his life had turned around for good? Had it really been a year? Yes...a year. A whole year had passed since the last time he'd cut himself. Yes, he'd come close several times. Yes, he'd nearly blown his own brains out with this very same pistol, a little over a month ago.
But you've come so far in a year, whispered a voice in his head. He could almost feel the warm hand resting on his back. I'm so proud of you.
Slight movement in his peripheral vision made Bucky look up. Jake stood uncertainly next to the nearest armchair, watching him with round blue eyes. He shrank back a little when he saw Bucky had noticed him, but his gaze drifted back to the pieces of Bucky's pistol spread out on the desk.
Bucky's first thought was to wonder if Jake was scared to see a weapon sitting out in the open like this. But then he remembered where Jake had come from. In the files, he'd seen that Jake had already begun training with weapons—including disassembling guns and reassembling them. He could be wrong, but...maybe the expression on Jake's face wasn't fear, but rather...curiosity.
"Hey, Jake," Bucky said with a smile. "Sleep well?"
Jake nodded, his eyes still fixed on the gun.
"C'mere." Bucky beckoned with a tilt of his head. He put down the rag he'd been using, and held up the metal cylinder he held in his other hand. "Do you know what this is called?"
Jake edged over to the desk, peering up at him from the other side, just out of Bucky's reach. "Barrel," he said softly.
Bucky's smile widened. "That's right. How about this?" He put down the barrel and picked up another piece.
"Magazine."
"And this?"
"Slide."
"What about this?"
"Recoil spring."
Bucky grinned. "That's really good, Jake! You sure know your stuff, don't you?"
Jake's fingers curled around the edge of the desk as he looked uncertainly up at him. He looked like he couldn't decide how to respond.
"Here, pull up that chair and sit next to me," Bucky said, pointing to the other desk chair. Jake hurried to follow his instructions, clambering up and kneeling on the chair to see the desk better. "Now, think you can show me how to put all this back together again?"
At first, Jake's movements were tentative as he reached for the pieces of Bucky's gun. He glanced up at Bucky several times, as if waiting for Bucky to yell at him that he was doing it wrong or moving too slowly. But once he got started, Jake's hands moved with certainty, putting the pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle he'd memorized. His fingers weren't clumsy, and he didn't even struggle with the springs.
It was one thing to read about it, but it was another thing entirely to watch a cute little kid putting his gun back together like he'd been doing it all his life. Bucky was tempted to whip out a stopwatch and see how fast he could do it. Instead, he just said, "Wow, you did such a good job!"
Jake looked surprised for some reason, but just then the door opened and Steve walked in. He froze in the doorway, his eyes traveling over the gun, the cleaning supplies, and the two of them sitting at the desk.
Caught red-handed.
"What are you two...up to?" Steve asked, his face stiff as if he were trying with all his might to keep a neutral expression.
"Jake was just showing me how he can reassemble this pistol," Bucky said. "He's a natural, Steve!" Please don't kill me, he begged with his eyes. I know you probably don't want your four-year-old son anywhere near guns again...
"That's very good, buddy," Steve said to Jake, giving him an encouraging smile. "Now, why don't you go wash your hands and then we can read a bit before supper?"
"Yes, Steve." Jake hopped down from his chair and headed straight for the bathroom.
Bucky got to his feet, hastily wiping his hands on a corner of the towel. "Sorry," he hissed. "He came out while I was still working on it and—"
But Steve was grinning and shaking his head. "No, it's perfect," he whispered back. "I should have thought of that myself. It's something he already knows—it'll make him more comfortable."
Jake emerged from the bathroom at that moment, so Steve didn't say any more, but Bucky breathed a sigh of relief as he gathered up his things. Well, if Steve didn't mind...he still had quite a few weapons he could show Jake. Suddenly, he was looking forward to it.
Steve rolled onto his back, letting out a deep sigh. No matter how tired he was from yet another long day, he couldn't seem to quiet his mind enough for sleep. He kept trying to think through his plans for the week's training sessions, but it just wasn't interesting enough to hold his attention for long. His mind kept slipping back to Jake.
Those big, blue eyes staring solemnly up at him. The mouth that had never turned upward in a smile, not even a small one. His dark hair, the exact same shade as Bucky's. His little hands, moving with a confidence no four-year-old should have as he put a gun together. The way he grew still and vigilant every time Steve stepped into the room, watching every movement like it was a threat...
He sighed again.
Bucky clicked his tongue in irritation. "What?"
"Huh?"
"You keep sighing and tossing and turning," Bucky mumbled. "A guy can't sleep under these conditions."
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry, just tell me what's wrong."
Steve looked over at the darker bit of shadow that was Bucky. "It's just..." He sighed and rolled onto his other side. "Never mind, it's stupid."
Bucky flicked him on the back of the head. "Hey, there's only room for one evasive person in this relationship, and I've already got that part covered. So spill."
"Okay, okay..." Rolling back around to face him, Steve couldn't suppress a small smile. He found Bucky's hand and threaded their fingers together to give himself a little more time to think. But there was no way to make what he was about to say sound less whiny. "I just wish..."
"Yes?" Bucky prompted when he trailed off.
Steve took a deep breath, then blurted out, "I wish Jake would call me 'Dad!' Or...'Daddy,' or 'Papa,' or...'Father,' even. Just...not 'Steve.' Anything but that. I mean, I guess it's better than 'sir,' but..." He let out another aggravated sigh. "I know it's not that important. I just keep coming back to that thought."
"I could call you 'Daddy' if you want."
With a surprised snort, Steve found himself laughing. He whipped his pillow around and smashed it into Bucky's face. Bucky immediately retaliated, and in moments they were locked in a half-hearted pillow fight while trying not to laugh too loudly.
Steve called a truce when he almost knocked the lamp over with an overly enthusiastic swing. Breathless, he clasped his pillow to his chest and lay on his front, propping his chin on his crossed arms.
Still snickering a little, Bucky flopped down beside him with his hands behind his head. Steve almost thought he could see dim light glistening on his metal arm, but he couldn't see Bucky's expression. He didn't really need to, though; he could easily imagine the satisfied smirk plastered all over his face.
It was very tempting to reach out and poke Bucky's unprotected side, but that would probably end with waking up everyone in the building, so he restrained the impulse.
After a few minutes, Bucky broke the contented silence. "In all seriousness, though, Sam and I could start referring to you as 'Dad' or something when we talk to Jake. I mean...he only hears people calling you 'Steve' or 'Cap.' So why would he call you anything else, you know?"
"Yeah...I guess that's how babies learn what to call their parents, isn't it?"
"So what'll it be? 'Daddy?' 'Papa?'"
Steve thought about it for a bit. He'd never known his father, so he'd never had someone to call one of those names. When talking about Joseph Rogers, he called him 'Dad' because that was how his mother referred to him, but...it wasn't the same. He'd never looked into the man's eyes and called him that.
For what had to be the hundredth time, he wondered what he would feel if Jake ever used a special name for him. A name only he could use, because he was Steve's only living child. He imagined those big blue eyes looking up at him, and his mouth opening as he said...
"'Daddy.'" Steve closed his eyes, smiling as he tried to hold that image in his mind. "'Daddy' is good."
"Okay." Several long moments passed in silence, then Bucky reached over and ruffled Steve's hair. "That wasn't stupid."
Bucky was surprised when he realized he'd started looking forward to Jake's afternoon naps and the time they would spend together afterwards, while Steve was busy elsewhere. Then he felt guilty for being surprised—why shouldn't he look forward to spending time with Jake? With his...grandson? (Okay, no, that was still too strange to think about.)
Was it too much to hope that Jake looked forward to these times too? He always seemed to relax a little when they started some routine activity. He was never completely at his ease; his eyes were always darting around as soon as anyone moved or spoke. But when Steve announced that it was suppertime or bedtime or anything like that, Bucky thought he could detect a slight relief in Jake's posture. Once he learned the rules, going through the motions of everyday life was at least not as nerve-wracking as something new and unpredictable.
Winter had been exactly the same. Bucky still remembered what that was like, even though he'd put those uneasy days behind him.
So it was encouraging when Bucky realized that his little 'lessons' with Jake about handling weaponry fell into the Slightly Less Stressful Than It Could Be category. Well, hopefully. It was a little hard to read Jake's guarded expressions sometimes.
Bucky took Jake through each one of the guns he kept in his safe, letting Jake take each one apart, clean the pieces, and then put them back together again. Jake was thorough and meticulous, his little fingers reaching into every tiny crevice with the rag until all of Bucky's weapons shone like new.
Once they'd worked their way through all of the guns, Bucky showed Jake his knife collection. "Now, I want you to be very careful," he said, selecting one of the smaller ones to show him. "Never touch these unless you're with me or your daddy, okay?"
Jake looked up at him with big, serious eyes. "Okay."
Bucky passed him the knife, watching as Jake carefully wrapped his fingers around the handle. Timidly, Jake peeked up at him. "Bucky?" he said in a tiny voice.
"Yeah?"
"What's my daddy?"
Bucky tried not to stare. "Oh. Um. Your...Your father. Steve."
"Oh." Jake gazed down at the blade in his hand, brow furrowed in thought.
Clearing his throat, Bucky said, "Uh...let's take this out to the kitchen, okay? Here, let me carry the knife. You can carry the whetstone."
They set up at the kitchen counter next to the sink, Jake standing on a chair so he could reach. At first, Bucky just had Jake watch and splash some water on the whetstone when he needed it. But after he'd been working the blade back and forth for a few minutes, he said, "You want to try?"
Jake hesitated, then slowly nodded. Bucky slid the whetstone in front of him and handed him the knife. Grasping the blade the way Bucky had, Jake started to rub it back and forth on the stone.
"Don't push too hard...that's it." Under Bucky's watchful eye, Jake continued sharpening the knife. "Even strokes...good...you're doing good..."
Footsteps and voices echoed up the stairwell as Bucky put the finishing touches on the knife. Training was over, it seemed. "Okay, Jake, we're almost finished. Time to wash your hands."
Jake, who had been looking uneasily over his shoulder, immediately turned back to the sink and followed Bucky's instructions. Bucky kept him busy cleaning up their work area as the others entered the room, chatting and laughing. Maybe if Jake had a task or two to focus on instead, he wouldn't feel like he had to observe everything and everyone at once.
Steve hung back while the rest of the group trailed away to their rooms to drop off their equipment. "Hey, Jake," he said. "Did you have a good time with Bucky?"
Jake pushed his chair back into place and stood stiffly next to it. "Yes."
"You wanna tell your daddy what we did?" Bucky asked, though Steve could clearly see the knife he was drying off.
"We sharpened a knife," Jake said, his eyes sliding from Bucky to Steve. There was a little furrow in his brow, though Bucky wasn't sure if that was because he'd used the word daddy again, or because it was obvious what they'd been up to.
"He's a very helpful boy," Bucky said with an encouraging smile. "Aren't you, Jake?"
Jake opened his mouth, closed it again, then said tentatively, "Yes?"
Steve grinned. "You sure are! Okay, let me wash up a bit, and then let's see about that coloring book we started yesterday."
As Steve headed for their rooms, Bucky beckoned to Jake with a tilt of his head. "Come on, let's put this stuff away."
Jake obediently followed Steve down the hallway, carrying the whetstone as carefully as if it were made of gold. Bucky passed Sam, who stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, slipping something into the pocket of Bucky's sweatshirt. "For next time," he muttered with a wink before continuing on his way.
Perplexed, Bucky reached into his pocket to see what it was.
It was...a rubber duck?
The next day, when Steve came upstairs from training, he found Bucky and Jake sharpening knives at the kitchen sink again. Grabbing a cold water bottle from the fridge, Steve sat at the island and watched them in silence. Bucky glanced up at him, but Jake was intently focused on the knife in his hands, and barely seemed to notice that anyone else was in the room.
Steve smiled as he watched them work. There was something surprisingly cozy about two Hydra victims sharpening knives to a razor-sharp edge.
Both of them had their sleeves rolled up. Steve found his eyes straying to Bucky's right arm as he reached to correct the angle of the knife Jake was holding. Steve had a perfect view of the mess of scars covering his forearm.
A year ago, those cuts had been open and bleeding, or red and inflamed as they began to heal. How far they had come. Now Bucky wasn't compulsively cutting open his own flesh with those knives. He wasn't even giving them to Steve for safekeeping, knowing that he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation if he had easy access to them. Now he was doing something productive with his knives, and teaching Jake to do the same.
Every minute Bucky spent teaching Jake how to use knives appropriately was another step away from the nightmare those knives used to represent.
Heart bursting with pride, Steve took a gulp of water and watched as Bucky quietly instructed Jake to hand him the higher-grit whetstone. Suddenly Bucky turned to look over his shoulder and make sure Steve was watching. He picked up a small object from the sink and held it up for Steve to see.
A small rubber duck.
Bucky squeezed the rubber duck over the whetstone, letting out a small stream of water with a loud SQUEEEE-AAAAAK!
Steve spilled water everywhere as he burst out laughing. Jake jumped at the sudden explosion of sound, so Steve tried to rein it in. But right when he was about to regain his composure, Bucky squeaked the rubber duck again. They both started laughing that time.
Jake stared at them both as if they'd grown another head, but that just made them laugh even harder.
My son, give me your heart,
and let your eyes observe my ways.
- Proverbs 23:26
Author's Note: Oh, at last we've come to this chapter! You could say Steve and Tony's argument in this chapter is my response to their falling-out in the CW movie. Because I started the story with the revelation about Bucky killing Tony's parents, and had him tell Tony right up front, things naturally fall out differently. But even if they don't come to blows because they aren't pushed right up to the edge like they are in the movie, I thought this was a good way to show how much stress they're both still under.
Additionally, that last scene is entirely NewMoonFlicker's fault XD She even commissioned fanart of it, which can be seen at www dot tumblr dot com/yawpyawp/187902075277/silly-stucky-comic-commissioned-by