Chapter 5
Bucky swears at Tony for having such a huge ego with a house to match. He searches the mansion up and down, yelling for Peter and getting angrier by a minute. The brat's not in the bedroom or his gameroom, not in the kitchen, not in the garden or pool area, and Bucky is starting to freak out. He's about to check the security cameras when he sees Dum-E and Mark lounging in the sun on the porch and gets an idea.
“Where's Peter?” He barks at the dogs ( ha ) and orders them. “Search!”
The dobermans perk up, staring at Bucky with their amber eyes all intensely, circle on the spot for a moment, then sniff the air and take off, claws drumming on the tiles.
Into the house, upstairs, into the hall – Bucky follows the dobermans’ jog, thanking all gods that the kid is apparently inside. When they stop in front of Tony's office door, he literally smacks his forehead. Dogs look up at him, confused.
“Of fucking course.” Bucky breathes out, seething. “Of fucking course he's exactly where he's forbidden to be.”
He kicks the door open, and the dobermans jog in, wiggling excitedly at the sight of their young master curled up in the armchair.
“Good boys.” Bucky grits his teeth, rewarding both dogs with cookies and observing the office.
Peter moved the massive armchair into the corner and glares from there, all curled up in a ball, mouth a stubborn line. Seems like he's already had some fun here though – if a bunch of books thrown around the room and Tony's no doubt important papers scattered all over the floor say anything.
Bucky stands in the middle of this chaos, arms crossed, and tries to keep calm. It doesn't really work out.
“Up. You're not allowed in here.” He pins the kid with a stern look.
The kid frowns back at him and settles further into the armchair, standing his ground.
“I'm upset.”
No shit, honey. Bucky flexes his muscles, making sure Peter's eyes follow the movement.
“As far as I'm concerned, this rule works regardless of your emotional status.”
The kid squirms in the armchair that looks too big for him. But pouts right away.
“Don't even talk to me, I'm angry !”
Bucky takes a deep breath. In. Out. Nah, he's gonna call Steve on his yoga bullshit – it doesn't work. He fixes the kid with a furious look. If pyrokinesis was real, Bucky sure as hell would be starting fires right and left.
“Well, guess what, little brat. I'm angry too .” His hands move down to rest on his belt, and Peter doesn't miss it, clearly having only one association with this accessory. His eyes grow wide. Bucky isn't going to disappoint him.
“Apparently your Daddy didn't beat your ass hard enough before the trip. Test my patience some more and I'll fix that issue.”
The kid's jaw literally drops, and boy, if it's not a sight to behold.
“You-you can't sp…” He flushes cherry red, apparently too embarrassed to say the word ‘spank’ out loud. “You can't !”
“ Try me .” Bucky's voice is all confidence, while he himself is anything but.
He served overseas, he assassinated the most dangerous criminals, he threw himself in the eye of the storm on Tony's missions – but this … This goddamn kid terrifies him – with his brattiness, with his softness and unpredictable attitude.
“You're bluffing!” Peter blurts out, but his eyes are darting around in panic.
“Play around and find out.” Bucky shrugs calmly, and it's enough to get the kid quiet.
Peter's eyes widen even more, mouth reminding a perfect ‘O’ , and, thanks God, he gets up reluctantly. Bucky nods, acknowledging it with the same stern glare.
“You have two minutes to put everything in its place.”
Paired with his hands on the belt, the order works like magic – Peter pouts, but picks up the mess he made. Bucky watches him putting the books on the shelves and stacking papers on the desk neatly. The kid finishes and looks up at him expectantly.
“Now we're going downstairs, and you, mister, are getting in that timeout Tony promised you for acting out.”
Peter's face falls – he obviously has been thinking that putting everything in its place will be enough. Huh.
“No! I'm not gonna – ouch !” The kid's tirade is interrupted by his yelp when Bucky grabs his ear and drags him out of the office. The dobermans obediently follow them, not minding a little bit the treatment their human is getting.
“Let me go!” The kid yells as they go downstairs. “Daddy's gonna-”
“Thank me and punish you. Yeah, I know.”
Peter whimpers at that, proving Bucky's right.
He grabs a plain chair on their way and drags Peter to the movie room where they were having such a good time basically all weekend until that darn FaceTime. The Lego Death Star in the process is scattered on the plush rug – Bucky has to walk carefully to not step on tiny pieces – the next “Star Wars” movie is prepared to be played.
“We could be watching your favorite movies or building your Legos right now.” He tells Peter, dragging him to the corner of the room, placing the chair and forcing the kid to sit down, facing the corner.
“But your choices brought you to these consequences. So now sit here, and I don't wanna hear a peep from you unless I specifically ask you a question. Got it?”
Peter lets out a bratty, but defeated whine.
“For how long?”
Until Tony returns.
“Until I allow you to come out. Sit and think about your behavior. About how the last thing your Daddy needs while dealing with dangerous stuff and protecting you is his baby throwing a fucking tantrum, breaking his rules and making a complete mess out of his office.”
Peter has the decency to look somewhat sheepish and regretful – although Bucky has no idea if that's about the actual stunt or the punishment.
“I asked you a question – got it?”
“Got it…” The kid mumbles, shoulders hunched.
Bucky leaves him in the corner and goes to fall on the couch, feeling old and tired. He needs to sleep for, like, a week. His hand automatically finds a remote and turns “Star Wars” on – after all, it's the kid who's getting punished, not him! He needs to find out how they defrost Han Solo! But Peter's ears immediately perk up, and he clearly starts eavesdropping, enjoying the movie like a radio play instead of thinking about his attitude.
Bucky presses pause with a frustrated groan.
Ugh. Babysitting brats is exhausting .
***
He shoots Tony a quick message about his precious baby devil being taken care of and just kinda kills time being on his phone, trying not to think about Steve and Tony in NYC. Peter, of course, is still doing everything to get his attention – from letting out loud sighs to squirming on the chair.
“Sit still.” Bucky scolds him without looking up from the phone.
The kid just groans in return.
“I'm tired!”
“Me too.”
“And bored!”
“Good for you.”
“And this chair's too hard and uncomfortable…”
“Good thing you're not sitting on it with a red ass then, huh?”
This shuts Peter up.
“Also, I clearly said you're only allowed to talk when I explicitly ask you. Now you're going to sit there longer.”
The kid lets out a frustrated whine. Bucky gets to enjoy silence for some time, until there's a little:
“Buuuckyyy…”
“What. Did. I. Just. Say.”
Apparently, Peter has at least some sense of self-preservation, because he finally shuts his mouth and falls silent.
After some time, when Bucky's going cross-eyed from the amount of crazy Buzzfeed tests he's taken and random YouTube videos he's watched – muted , thanks to Peter – he decides that it's been enough.
“Okay.” He clears his throat, looking at the boy hunched miserably in the corner. “You can come out.”
Peter immediately flees from the chair and stops in front of Bucky.
“I'm sorry…”
Bucky gives him a long scrutinizing look. The kid is all puppy eyes, and if he had a tail, it definitely would be between his legs right now.
“Okay. You're fine.” He finally nods, and the kid lets out a relieved breath. “Just behave from now on, got it?”
“Got it!” Peter jumps into the armchair next to Bucky.
Yeah. He can kiss those moments of silence goodbye.
The kid looks at him with those big bambi eyes of his. Bucky is almost ready to melt, but quickly remembers how this innocent angel turns into a demon in a snap of fingers. Yeah. Better to stay stern – seems like the only way to make the boy listen.
He's also still frustrated. Getting distracted with a movie sounds like the best idea.
“We can watch “ Return of the Jedi” before dinner.” Bucky suggests.
The kid nods – less eagerly and more sheepishly than usual – and Bucky presses play. He's finally about to see what happens to poor Han, and relax, at least for a bit, and-
“Bucky?” Peter's small voice goes over the noises Jabba's making on the screen.
“Hm?”
“I'm… I'm really sorry.”
Bucky turns to look at him, pausing the movie again.
“Will be good now…”
“Well,” Bucky squints, trying to figure out if it's an act or sincere regret. “That's good, Peter.”
The kid bites his lip and glances up timidly, seemingly struggling to word his thoughts.
"I just. I just want you to love me again ?.." Those big brown eyes stare at him, full of hope and anxiety.
Fear fills Bucky like icy cold water. Just like yesterday, when Peter hugged him at that darn scene with Luke and Vader. And just like yesterday, Bucky does everything to make it go away.
He gives the kid a huff, trying to make it all a joke and postpone the inevitable.
"Wrong man, kid. Tony loves you."
Peter frowns.
" Stevie loves me too," of course his retort does nothing to stop the kid. "Not like that – as a family , you know? Cause he's my family, and, and you-"
A little voice in Bucky's head – or more like, in his heart – is melting in happiness. He’s accepted . Already. A family - No. No, no, no, not happening. Internally, Bucky's stepping on that voice's throat, shutting it down.
"Who said I wanna be a part of your family?" He croaks out.
Peter blinks. Then again and again, looking lost.
"Cause…I…Stevie…"
"I'm not Steve."
They might be similar in some things, they're together, but at the same time, in other things, it's hard to find more different people. Steve is so, so much better. And it's time for the kid to understand it. That voice from his heart is trying to hoarse something out, but Bucky squeezes it harder.
"Well," the kid gulps, clearly not the one to drop the topic without getting to the bottom of it. "You don't…wanna?.."
He looks up at Bucky from under those ridiculously soft curls falling on his forehead.
The look is stubborn, almost of a spoiled prince who expects everything to be like he wants – almost , but actually, actually it's something different-
Bucky doesn't give himself time to recognize it. Rushes before getting to that point of no return.
"Why would I? I've only known you for what, a few days? And almost all this time you're being a total royalbrat." In a softer voice it could almost sound fond, the way Tony sometimes teases the kid like this… so Bucky makes sure to speak harshly and seriously, voice rough and scolding. "You never listen, never do what you're told, act out, I'm drained from your attitude just from today. Why would I want to be your family and have all this trouble?"
He says it all while looking at the frozen screen. Like a coward, also frozen inside – way more than Han Solo.
And only now he pins the kid with what he hopes is a cold stern stare.
Peter's frozen in his armchair. His knees tucked under his chin, arms wrapped around his legs. He looks up at Bucky with huge, wide eyes, somewhat of a wounded animal. There's something glimmering in them – Bucky can bet that tears are about to spill – but the next moment they just…kinda dry up and disappear .
Peter blinks a couple of times, swallows and nods.
" Oh . Okay, I-I got it." His voice is scarily quiet and even. " Sorry ."
Bucky expected anything, from pouting to slamming doors, pressing on the subject, complaining to Tony even. Angry tears. Or maybe some revenge in the form of drawing that dick on his face at night. Instead of that, Peter offers him a small smile, reaches out to the remote and presses play.
The movie picks up, filling the room – and it's the only sound happening. Peter sits silently, seemingly all focused on the screen – although it feels like he's looking through it. Not speaking, not moving. Legos long forgotten on the floor. It's like he's not even breathing . Something sharp falls into a deep pit in Bucky's stomach.
Instead of relief, something – probably that darn inner voice – is telling him that he really, really fucked up.