Calvary
Once they had unpacked their store bought treasures, Bucky noticed a notification on his burner phone as it sat practically burning a hole in the counter. An unknown number.
Unknown: Williamsburg Northside Lower School
Unknown: 70 Havemeyer St, Brooklyn, NY 11211
Unknown: She’s been enrolled here. First day is Monday.
Bucky’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that this was most likely Pepper. But although he was aware that Morgan would most likely be with him for a sizable chunk of time, he hadn’t even thought of the fact that Morgan would need to attend school in the interim. This would be even more concerning than figuring out what she liked to eat; schools in the twenties were undoubtedly different from modern schools. Before he could lose himself in the stress of trying to figure out the mechanics of how he could make this work, the phone buzzed again.
Unknown: 150 dollars for school supplies has been transferred to you from an offshore account. You can find a list online. You can do whatever you want with the leftovers.
He waited a moment before texting back.
Barnes: Do I need a cover?
Unknown: you’ve been listed as her uncle. My brother. You have temporary guardianship over her while I attend rehab out of state. Her last name is listed as Barnes.
Barnes: How am I going to get her on board with that? She’s 6.
Unknown: just tell her mommy asked her to play a game of pretend.
Bucky looked up at Morgan, teetering on the edge of a drawer as she put a jar of peanut butter in a cabinet that had previously been out of reach, giggling like she was having the time of her life. He admired her resourcefulness, but he didn’t admire the audible crack he heard as something within the drawer inevitably broke. He watched as her eyes went wide like saucers and quickly pretended to be caught up in his phone as she glanced over at him with the guiltiest look he had ever seen. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her gingerly stepping down from the drawer and carefully wiggling it back into place, never looking away from him, before scurrying back over to the little bag he had given her to continue unpacking like nothing had happened at all. A small smile played across his lips; she was a quintessential six year old and he could see more and more of his little sister within her with every passing moment.
He could remember the kinds of shenanigans she had gotten up to, only 9 years old when he had been drafted into the war that would end up stealing his life away from him. He had told her that he enlisted, putting on a brave face for her and Steve, but in secret he had cried himself to sleep over the worry that without him there to protect them, she and his best friend wouldn’t be safe. He was confused, of course, with Morgan existing alongside him, but part of him wondered if it would be almost therapeutic to be able to fully protect her. He had connections, now, and there was no war for him to fight in. He could make sure she was safe, he could make up for not being there for his sister. He texted back.
Barnes: ok.
Unknown: Thank you. If you need anything, call Happy. He can help.
Unknown: Discarding this phone now. Next message will be from a different number.
He flipped the phone shut and tucked it into his pocket before grabbing the bag of apples to put them in the refrigerator’s fruit drawer, yet another thing he had definitely never had in the 40s. Turning back to the counter, he noticed that besides a solitary loaf of bread, there was nothing left. He glanced over at Morgan as she carefully placed a carton of eggs in the fridge.
“Did you put all of the groceries away on your own?” He asked incredulously.
She spun around with a flair that only a six year old could manage, fanning out her hands like she was a performer. “Yes!” She crowed, grinning widely. “I’m a big girl!”
Bucky chuckled, swinging the loaf of bread into its place by his dented toaster. “Yea I guess you are.” He told her, hesitating for a moment before deciding to ruffle her hair.
She giggled, shaking out her hair before sobering up. “Do you have anything to do? I’m bored now.”
Shit. He absolutely did not.
Bucky may have had a sister, but he absolutely did not fucking understand modern kids. All kids did in the forties was… exist. Yet now, after a near frantic search through his less than humble abode, he had a modern little girl sitting in his apartment scribbling on a pad of paper he had scrounged out of one of the kitchen drawers with a pen he had found in his duffel bag because she was bored and he had absolutely no idea what to do with her.
So, as he usually did when he didn’t understand modern life, he called Sam. Standing outside his apartment door in the dim hallway, he kept his door cracked open so that he could watch her out of the corner of his eye. The chances of someone figuring out how to hurt her inside his fifth floor apartment were low, but never zero.
Sam answered on the third ring.
“What’s up, Buckaroo?” He asked into the phone, voice smug as he tried out yet another nickname that Bucky despised.
He did that, now, continuously giving him nicknames like they had been friends their entire lives. It was weird and Bucky never liked them, but it still felt good to have a friend again. It was nice to not have to revolve his life around Steve, despite how much he missed him.
“Don’t call me that.”
Sam laughed. “Yea sure, whatever you want, man. What’s up?”
“I have a problem.” He told him. “Pepper showed up at like 2am last night and left Morgan with me. She’s in trouble, something about Morgan being in danger.”
“Wait, what?” Sam asked, phone rustling. “Pepper Potts? Why would she leave Morgan with you?”
“I don’t know!” Bucky lowered his voice, glancing back at Morgan. “She said she wanted to leave Morgan with the least likely person, which is me apparently, but I don’t know how to take care of a kid!”
Sam was silent for a moment before he spoke. “You barely take care of yourself; I’m gonna book a flight to New York for later today so I can help.”
“Wait, Sam you don’t have to do that.” Bucky protested. “I’m sure I can handle her if you just give me some pointers.”
“Absolutely the fuck not, dude.” Sam retorted, chastising him like he was a petulant teenager. “It was literally just two weeks ago when I had to listen to you explain why you actually didn’t need to eat because HYDRA didn’t feed you that much so you were fine which is, of course, the dumbest shit I have ever heard. You need help.”
Bucky sighed, giving in. Sam, like Steve, was a force of nature and it was best to just let the chaos happen. “Ok. When are you gonna get here?”
There was movement on the other end of the line, followed by a series of faint clicking noises, before Sam spoke. “It’s 4 right now. I just booked a flight; I’ll be there around 7:30 or 8.”
He sure as hell wasn’t going to admit it, but he felt relief wash over him as soon as he heard that Sam was coming. It had been a rocky road with him; at first they had been friendly acquaintances at best, but now, as much as Bucky was loath to acknowledge it, Sam was his only friend.
“Thank you.” He whispered into the phone. “I’ll see you then.”
“Just sit tight.” Sam told him, “Captain America is coming to the rescue.”
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Sam showed up at exactly 7:37, busting through Bucky’s cracked open door with a carry-on duffel bag and a shit eating grin. There was absolutely no way that Bucky would ever even insinuate to Sam that his presence was a bit of a comfort to him, not only because he had barely admitted it to himself, but because Sam would obviously think that was the weirdest shit ever and Bucky didn’t want to put a strain on their fledgling relationship. He knew it wasn’t the forties anymore, men were allowed to show affection to each other without having to worry about society’s views of their relationship or possible misguided backlash, but still parts of him hesitated to move on from the fear that something, somehow, could go wrong like it could have before. Call it PTSD or even just an inability to move on from his years of early 1900s experience, but he often found himself harboring the same types of fear he had back then.
The room brightened when Sam walked in, of course, smiling his A class smile. He was the sun, always shining just as bright as Morgan did, and he swung his duffel bag to his opposite arm before leaning down to introduce himself to Morgan. “Hey little lady, I’m Sam, one of Bucky’s friends. I knew your dad too!”
Morgan smiled a wide, toothy smile, looking up from her scribbling at Sam towering over her. “Nice to meet you!” She exclaimed, “I’m Morgan! Don’t worry though! It’s not a boy’s name since I’m a girl.”
Sam raised an eyebrow at Bucky, who shrugged from his spot against the wall. “Yea I can see that. I’m gonna sleep on yalls couch for a bit if you don’t mind.”
Morgan shook her head, directing her attention back to her ink masterpiece. “I don’t care, you’re nice so it’s ok.”
Sam shot her an amused look before setting his duffel bag down and beginning to rummage through it. He rummaged for a few moments before letting out a small “ah!” and producing a pack of colored pencils and a coloring book.
“I brought you a little gift so you’ll know I’m the better of the two of us.” He grinned, handing the bundle to Morgan. “My nephews leant me the pencils and I picked up the coloring book at the airport.”
Morgan squealed excitedly before throwing her arms around Sam’s neck in a grateful hug. She pulled away, grabbing the gift and scuttling off to the corner to use it. They watched her for a second as she giggled, pulling the pencils from the box and scribbling with a wild abandon that only a girl her age could muster.
Bucky made a face then, rolling his eyes as Sam raised a smug eyebrow at him. “This isn’t a popularity contest, Wilson.” He hissed, halfheartedly, of course, as he couldn’t genuinely be angry at the man for making Morgan happy.
Sam chuckled quietly and they exchanged a sort of manly half hug that Bucky had begrudgingly begun to enjoy, although he would go back into cryo before ever admitting that fact.
“Who said it wasn’t?” Sam asked him, eyes sparkling. “All I know is that I’m great with kids and you haven’t had any experience with them since before the flip phone, and who knows if you were actually good with them, so I better charm this girl before you ruin her with your angst.”
He scoffed. “I was great with kids.”
Sam patted him on the back. “I’m sure you were.” He glanced back at Morgan. “What’s the plan with her? Did Pepper say anything?”
Bucky passed the burner phone to him. “Apparently I have to take her to school.” He was quiet for a moment as Sam read the texts before he spoke again, worry lacing his voice as he yet again stressed about his ability to do right by the girl. “I just… I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, Sam.”
Sam nodded, scrolling down through the list of supplies Pepper had included. “This shouldn’t be too much trouble.” He said, “I can help, you’ll be fine. I go shopping for this shit with Cass and AJ all the time. You’d be amazed at how quickly those little shits run out of pencils.”
“I don’t want to bother you.”
Sam scoffed at him. “You kidding?” He asked, handing the phone back. “I love Sarah and the boys but I’ve been bored as hell for like two weeks since there's been a break in the good ol' Captain America press coverage bonanza. Gotta mix it up anyways, y’know?” He didn’t wait for Bucky to answer the pseudo question before continuing. “Besides, you’re my friend. I know you haven’t actually had a friend other than Steve in a fucking while so in case you forgot, this is what friends do. We help.”
Bucky stared at him for a moment before slapping his ridiculously muscular arm. “I know that. I have friends, asshole.”
Sam grinned. “Damn right you do. You have me!”
Despite himself, Bucky felt a hot blush creep across his face. Sam was right, in a way; he’d had plenty of friends over the years before the war but since he broke out from under HYDRA’s thumb he’d only really ever had Steve. Obviously he’d had allies; Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Scott Lang. But he’d always relied on Steve.
And look how that turned out; with him heartbroken and Steve gone.
“Yea.” He said, scratching the back of his neck. “I guess I do have you. You can help.”
Sam’s smile at that, wide and unfortunately handsome (which Bucky would deny noticing if he was ever asked, fuck you) was brighter than the sun.
Just like the rest of him.