⮕ 𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐓 ❘ [𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖔𝖙𝖘]

▬▬▬▬ 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑨𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓

TIMELINE｡˚ ⁀➷ Post TFATWS.

WARNINGS｡˚ ⁀➷ Minor panic attack, Mention of abusive foster homes, Abandonment issues, Aaron is a mama's boy.

SUMMARY｡˚ ⁀➷Aaron has abandonment issues and he panics when he finds himself home alone during a thunderstorm. (OR) Where Aaron calls you Mom for the first time

꧁꧂

The loud crash of thunder split the sky, and Aaron flinched, curling deeper into the nest of blankets he'd built on the living room floor like it was armor.

Aaron fuckin—no—wait. Bucky had told him not to use that word. 

Fricking. Right. He fricking hated thunderstorms.

It wasn't just the occasional rumble or distant flash. It was the full-on chaos—the kind where the skies opened up like the world was being cracked open, the kind where the wind slammed against the windows like it wanted in, and the thunder was loud like it was coming for someone.

It reminded him too much of yelling. Of doors slamming. Of footsteps that moved too fast.
Of old foster homes.

And in the middle of all of that, Aaron lay on the floor beneath a fortress of pillows and blankets, trying not to breathe too loud.

The front door clicked open.

"Aaron?" your voice called out, soft but searching.

There was a beat of silence before a muffled voice answered, "In here."

You peeked over the mountain of cushions and found him lying on the floor, wide-eyed, arms crossed protectively over his chest, blanket cocooned up to his chin.

You blinked. "What are you doing?"

"Hiding," he said with utter seriousness. "From the lightning. So it can't get me."

You bit back a smile, slipping off your shoes and sliding into the pillow fort beside him. He didn't look at you right away—just kept staring at the ceiling like it might fall.

After a while, he whispered, "It sounds like... like someone's about to hit me. Like... they're mad. And I don't know if it's gonna stop," His voice shook. "I know it's dumb—"

"Hey," you cut in gently, "It's not dumb."

He swallowed hard, curling in slightly.

"I used to think... if I was really quiet during storms, they'd forget I was there. Wouldn't come looking. Wouldn't yell. Wouldn't..."

His voice trailed off, but the weight behind his words lingered. You didn't press—just let the silence settle. A different kind of storm was behind his eyes.

You'd heard bits and pieces over time. Homes that weren't really homes. Beds that weren't really his. Families that didn't stay. And too many doors that slammed shut and never reopened.

And now it hit you—thunder wasn't just thunder to Aaron.

It was footsteps in a hallway. A belt dragged off a hook. A voice rising.

It was being small and scared and no one coming when he cried.

It was being left behind.

You reached for his hand and rested it gently over his.

"Aaron..." your voice was low, steady, "...you don't have to be quiet anymore. You don't have to hide. Not here. Not with me."

He blinked hard. His jaw trembled for just a second before he tucked himself tighter into the blanket.

"The thing is," he said suddenly, "I love you. And...I'm scared that somehow... That one day you'll realize I'm too much. And then... you'll leave. I'll lose you. Like you'll just disappear one day, and there'll be nothing but that stupid thunder,"

There it was. The real fear.

You turned toward him, brushing a bit of hair from his face, "Aaron. You're not too much. You're mine. Okay? I'm your Mom. That's permanent. That's not conditional. I don't care how loud the storm gets, I'm not going anywhere."

He let out a shaky breath, and for the first time since the thunder started, he didn't flinch at the next rumble.

You leaned in closer, "You know what I think thunderstorms are?"

He blinked. "What?"

"I think it's just Thor playing football in the sky,"

That pulled a reluctant laugh from him, "Football?"

"Yep. Or maybe he's having a tantrum. You know how dramatic he is."

"Very dramatic," Aaron agreed, smiling now.

"Exactly. All this noise? That's just a god with terrible coping skills. Nothing to be scared of."

Aaron let out a soft chuckle and then, without warning, slid over and hugged your side, burying his face in your turtleneck.

"Thanks, Mom,"

You froze. Just for a second.

It was the first time he'd ever said it.

You felt something lodge in your throat, a swell of emotion so strong it nearly knocked the air from your lungs.

You tightened your arm around him, pulling him in close, heart full and aching all at once, "I've got you, sweetheart," you whispered, voice thick with feeling, "Always,"

And in that little blanket fort, with thunder still rumbling outside, something settled—like the storm wasn't quite so loud anymore.

Because Aaron had a home.

And he had you. And this time, no one was leaving.

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