Uncle Bucky
The kid poked his head through the door. Bucky chose to ignore it. He had seen the kid bounce around like a fucking pinball when with the rest of the team; he didn’t need that kind of energy around him. He just wanted to focus on Steve.
Steve. He was the only certainty in his life right now; the only thing keeping him grounded. If it wasn’t for Steve, Bucky probably would’ve run off a long time ago. Or he’d still be captured by Hydra— he’d still be the asset. The Winter Soldier: that’s the name Sam and Natasha had used.
He shook his head gently and returned his attention on Steve and the whirring machines around them. He couldn’t think about Hydra. He wouldn’t. Just focus on Steve. Only on Steve.
“Hey Mr. Barnes,” the kid called out from the door. Bucky furrowed his brows together in frustration. He didn’t like being called Mr. Barnes. It wasn’t him.
Bucky probably would have growled his dislike of the name if it hadn’t come from the kid. He sounded young. What he was doing with this rag-tag team of superheroes, Bucky would never understand. Bucky couldn’t be the only one who was uneasy about him.
“Uh oh,” Sam had groaned the first time the kid’s voice was heard in the ICU. The Falcon had been in Steve’s room with Bucky at the time; explaining to him that the Avengers would be arriving to check up on Steve. No one was going to separate the two super soldiers. Steve just had a lot of people in this century who cared about him.
Through the crack in the door, Bucky had seen the avengers arriving in the waiting room. They all seemed to be pretty normal for a bunch of superheroes.
“What uh oh?” Bucky had asked Sam, nervously shifting in his chair.
“It’s nothing,” Sam had gently placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, “It’s just the little guy. He’s harmless. He can’t hurt you or anything— not strong enough. Though
he can get on your nerves very easily.”
“Yeah,” Bucky had grinned, looking over at his once-little guy, “They’re usually like that.”
“Uncle James?” the small voice from the door came again. This time a little louder. He pulled the door open a little more but looked like he had no plans to enter the room.
He had never fully come into the room. He looked small, though. Like a stiff breeze could knock him over. Just like his Stevie. Tony had tried to get him to come in when they first arrived.
Tony had walked into the room, holding the door open the door asking, “You coming?”
Bucky saw the kid’s eyes widen as his gaze moved from Steve, to the machines, to Bucky. He quickly shook his head and ducked out of view. Bucky couldn’t decide what scared the kid more. Each was enough to terrify someone his age.
“Suit yourself,” Tony shrugged. He walked farther into the room and towards Bucky. Tony didn’t seem afraid of anything in the room. His eyes stayed on Bucky though, sort of sizing him up.
“That was Peter,” Tony finally said to Bucky, pointing back to the now closed door behind him, “He’ll come in when he’s ready.”
Bucky was about to ask whether the kid stayed behind because of him or Steve but decided against it.
“I’m Tony Stark, by the way,” Tony held out his hand to the assassin, “And I’ll assume you’re Bucky.”
Bucky shook Tony’s hand, but his mind was elsewhere. “Stark…” he muttered to himself. He was on the verge of a breakthrough—he could feel it. Another memory. Another person left behind in the past.
“Stark… Howard?” Bucky asked, confusion in his eyes as he finally looked up to study Tony’s face. This Stark definitely resembled the young inventor from the 40s. The Stark Bucky remembered had been much younger than Tony, but not without similarities which messed with Bucky’s fractured memories.
“My father,” Tony acknowledged Bucky’s confusion, though he didn’t sound thrilled. That would have been enough for Bucky if there hadn’t been something else nagging at him. Another memory. But not his. No, certainly not his.
Though he clearly heard the oddly familiar voice of an old man. “Sergeant Barnes.”
Bucky’s eyes widened with fear as he connected the voice of the young Stark with one much older.
“You alright?” Tony asked, confused at Bucky’s sudden change of demeanor.
“16 декабря 1991,” Bucky quietly muttered in Russian, looking at his Hydra-issued metal hand.
“What?” Tony asked.
“December 16, 1991,” Bucky said in English this time. He was shaking slightly as he looked up to meet Tony’s terrified eyes.
Tony opened his mouth only to have, “how…?” come out in a barely audible squeak.
Bucky quickly sat on his metal hand. Knowing fully well that he had used that hand to punch the father of the man in front of him, his old friend, to death. Bucky felt tears well up in his eyes. Whether from guilt or fear or sadness—he had no clue. He went to wipe them away with his flesh hand when he remembered choking the second occupant of Stark’s car, a woman, with that hand. Quickly sitting on that hand too, Bucky finally looked at Tony once more, trying to figure out his reaction.
Tony had one hand covering his eyes. He reached out slowly toward Bucky with his other. The assassin flinched, expecting a punch. But he looked at the hand uncertainly as it rested on his metal shoulder.
“You know,” Tony finally said weakly, “I never got to say goodbye.”
“Me neither,” Bucky whispered, another memory surfacing. “He was gonna show me,” he cleared his throat, “how that flying car of his worked. You know. After the…um… train.”
"He talked a lot about you. And the Capsicle, of course,” Tony motioned to the still unconscious Steve Rogers.
“He was always so focused on his work during the war,” Bucky reminisced, “Surprised he settled down and started a family.”
“He settled down enough to start a family. Not Keep it,” Tony sighed.
Bucky thought about his mission which ended Howard’s life. 1991 was a long time to wait before going after someone who had been a threat to Hydra since the 40s.
Bucky was certain the Winter Soldier had been sent out that night for another reason.
“Tony,” Bucky said, choosing his words carefully, “That night in your dad’s car—”
“You know, oddly enough, I don’t feel like talking about this,” Tony interrupted.
“No, this is important,” Bucky insisted, “In your dad’s car was the serum. Like the kind Steve has. I don’t know what Howard was going to do with it, but I know what Hydra did. Tony, there are more.”
“More what?” Tony asked.
“More assets. More Winter Soldiers,” Bucky explained.
“Like you?”
“Worse,” Bucky stated, “They can speak 30 languages. Hide in plain sight. Infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize. They can take down a whole country in one night; you never see them coming. Steve may have destroyed SHIELD, but he didn’t destroy Hydra— not entirely. I don’t know what Hydra is doing next, but something has to be done before their next move.”
Tony nodded, understanding what Bucky had requested. He spoke into an earpiece as he walked towards the door, “Rhodey, I’m gonna need backup.” He turned back to Bucky as he reached the doorknob, “Tell the Capsicle I say hi.” Bucky smiled weakly as he was left alone with Steve once more.
“Uncle James, can I come in?” the kid asked, more sure of himself this time.
Bucky sighed. The kid was never gonna let this go, was he?
“You don’t have to ask permission,” Bucky told the kid.
Peter squeezed himself through the barely open door. “Hi,” he said softly, “Auntie Nat just said I shouldn’t bother you two.”
“Nat was correct,” Bucky agreed.
“Oh, I’m sorry Uncle James,” Peter stammered.
“Bucky. You can call me Bucky.”
“You got it, Uncle Bucky,” the kid beamed.
“None of this Uncle crap. Just Bucky.”
“Oh, but um…” Peter looked around nervously, “but dad said,” he turned to face the door, “and Uncle Steve…” he looked over at the bed where Captain America still lay unconscious, “You and Uncle Steve are… you know… together, aren’t you?”
“We were, back in the day,” Bucky nodded, “Not that we’ve had the chance to discuss what we are now.”
“So shouldn’t that make you my uncle, too?” Peter tried his hardest to understand.
Bucky changed the topic, “So are you one of them? An Avenger?”
“Oh no!” Peter shook his head, “I mean, I want to be. I want to be a superhero, but my dad would never let me.”
“Aren’t most superheroes anonymous? Your dad doesn’t necessarily have to know,” Bucky suggested.
“Wouldn’t work. My dad knows everything. He’s a genius,” Peter said proudly.
“Well being a superhero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Bucky chuckled, “It takes a lot of training. You should’ve seen Steve with his shield when he first got it.”
“It bounced off a wall and almost hit him in the head,” Peter chimed in.
“Did Steve already tell you this story?” Bucky asked.
“No, my dad did,” Peter said, “Grandpa Howard had tons of stories about you two. I mean, not that I ever got the chance to meet him, but dad told me…”
“Grandpa who?” Bucky asked, hoping he had misheard.
“Grandpa Howard.” Peter looked at Bucky confused, “I thought dad said you knew Grandpa Howard.”
“Are you Tony’s kid?” Bucky asked.
“Yeah,” Peter nodded.
“No wonder you can’t be an Avenger without your dad knowing,” Bucky thought out loud.
“Dad thinks it would be too dangerous. But Uncle Steve tells me not to listen to people getting in my way of doing what’s right. Even if those people just want to keep me safe,” said Peter.
“Well it’s good to know that seventy years later Steve still isn’t listening to me,” Bucky rolled his eyes, “I guess if he did listen to me, I would still be under Hydra’s control right now.”
Peter smiled, “Uncle Steve may not be a genius, but he always knows how fix any problem.”
“So why did you want to come in here, kid?” Bucky asked.
“When do you think Uncle Steve is going to wake up?” Peter asked softly.
“I don’t know,” Bucky shrugged, “Soon, I hope.”
“He is going to wake up, right?” Peter asked nervously.
“Yes,” Bucky nodded, “He has to.”