Stucky Halloween: 2020

The Kid

TW this one has violence and stuff; Bucky's the Winter Soldier and he's sort of just left HYDRA behind; Steve is a civilian in this. Also TW for mention of depression.

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Bucky swore as he paced the bloodied carpet. There wasn't supposed to be a kid involved, no way in hell would he kill a kid.

So then what? He dropped his hands to his hips, heard the closet door above him slide closed as the kid found his hiding place. Bucky swore again because this was just his luck, wasn't it, and he was miserable and now saddled with a child. Whose parents he had killed.

God, Steve wasn't going to like this.

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They had unofficially adopted James. The young boy had been the son of a politician Bucky had killed -- well, the Winter Soldier had killed when Bucky wasn't himself.

When he'd come to holding a bloodied knife amidst a living room practically drenched in blood, Bucky had been concerned, but relatively unfazed. As the Winter Soldier, consciousness in his actions faded in and out and it wasn't necessarily something he wasn't used to.

The thing was, he'd come around after killing the boy's father -- and had locked eyes with the little kid.

What a fantastic start to a life -- trauma.

Hurray.

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James had been too young to know exactly what was going on. Bucky was always conflicted and often went through phases of hating himself and accepting that he literally hadn't been in control.

Easier said than to actually take that in and accept it.

"Buck?"

Bucky looked up sharply, then relaxed; Steve stood in the doorway and smiled patiently. "I'm taking James to the park, did you want to come with?"

Bucky paused a second to massage his eyes. "Um -- probably not today," he admitted and avoided meeting his eyes. "I, uh, not feeling too good."

"Want me to grab you something?" Steve walked in and sat on the edge of the desk. Bucky couldn't look up at him, but he took his hand gently within his own.

"That's okay." He smiled to himself, tilted his head. "Did you want to watch that show tonight maybe?" He felt like he was grasping at straws of how to feel normal and this was one that usually helped with that.

Steve smiled gently at him. "Sure, and tonight I was thinking I'm gonna try my hand at making dinner."

"I'll help," Bucky offered immediately, determined to feel adequate at something and not just this weird, dark...  aching in his chest and his head and his heart. He took a deep breath. "I mean, if you wanted me to-- "

"Well I'll need someone to supervise me and make sure I don't burn the kitchen down, right?" Steve joked and kissed his forehead. Relief felt like a drug and Bucky finally smiled back, gratefully.

"Okay, it's a date."

Once they had left Bucky was left in the quietness of his mind and he stared absently at the wall. He'd make it up to them somehow.

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They didn't show up for dinner. They were gone for the entire night, despite Bucky calling and calling and praying please be okay, please just be furious at me for being a sh*tty husband because at least then I know you're safer than I could keep you.