Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“My best. My brightest!” Nick Fury’s robust voice boomed throughout the intimate space of his office as he leaned back in his black leather Herman Miller to size up the duo seated in front of him.

“Ah, Nick, you say that to everyone on your payroll,” Natasha Romanov purred back, ignoring the unimpressed eye roll of the man beside her as she bantered with the boss.

“Yeah, but I only mean it when it comes to you two.”

“Hmm.” Natasha arched a wry brow but didn’t dispute him. Dressed from head to toe in black, a patch covering his left eye from a mysterious incident he refused to talk about, Fury cut a figure as intimidating as his name, not that she was daunted. She just chose her battles, and poking Fury wasn’t a necessary one.

“I work better alone,” James ‘Bucky’ Barnes interjected, the sideways glance he slanted her way apologetic but firm. “No offense.”

“You both do,” Fury answered before Natasha could engage, heading off bickering he didn’t have time for. “And I usually let you. But as you know, sometimes our work requires a team. Or in this case, a pair.”

“No, I’m out. Find someone else.”

“You’re out? The last time I worked with you I got shot in the side,” Natasha charged back. Granted, if the positions were reversed, Nat would have shot the hell out of Bucky too, but still.

“It was a flesh wound and we got the guy,” Barnes countered. “And the reward.”

“That was a good one,” Natasha agreed reluctantly. That assignment had accounted for half of the downpayment on the ebony corvette stingray she’d pulled up in, after all. Maybe it was worth the lasting scar she had courtesy of Bucky Barnes. “We actually worked well together on that one, all things considered,” she murmured thoughtfully. “What’s your actual problem, Barnes?”

“I just like going in alone. Not being responsible for anyone but myself and the assignment.”

She let out a whistle as understanding dawned. “You don’t want to have to shoot me again. You’re worried about judgment calls.” She gave a rueful shake, burnt auburn hair cascading around her shoulders. “Careful James. I might start to think you care.”

“At the moment, I’m not worried about shooting you,” he countered dryly, before his chiseled jaw gave the smallest clench to betray him. He had a decent game face, but hers was better and he knew it. “I just…like working alone. In the field,” he amended, because none of them truly worked alone, often relying on the hacking and information gathering skills of those Fury employed behind the scenes.

Thus was the life of a rewardist.

Fury had recruited them and a handful of others in a money-making venture that allowed them to skirt the special licensing bounty hunters and private investigators were subject to. The job was to locate missing persons all over the country who had rewards posted for their return; thus, they only collected compensation if the person was found. Each rewardist kept the majority of the reward for a successful job, paying a portion back to Fury, who in turn also paid portions to the licensed attorneys, researchers, and IT experts he had on call to help with each case.

Natasha didn’t really know how Fury had found his team, each person coming in with a different background and set of skills that most of them wanted to keep private. But she’d worked with Barnes enough to piece together a mini profile. Raised with his siblings in the wild by a doomsday, conspiracy theorist father, Barnes was a survivalist who preferred solo assignments because he had trouble trusting others. Given the circumstances, he was remarkably well adjusted despite his isolated upbringing, blending in well with society and able to turn on the charm when necessary.

Fury cleared his throat, bringing them back to business. “This case is a little different than what-”

“Probably better suited for Clint-”

“Was I done talking?” Fury bit out, an icy glower sliding over Barnes, who seemed mostly unaffected. “Don’t interrupt me in my own office. In fact, don’t interrupt me ever.” He waited a beat just to put the fear of a higher power—that higher power being 100 percent him!—into Barnes.

“Sorry,” Barnes muttered like a sullen child. Natasha pursed her lips, so she didn’t grin.

“As I was saying. This one is a favor to a friend. And there isn’t a posted reward.”

Bucky scoffed. “So, you want us to work for free?”

“I want you to stop being an interrupting asshole and let me finish. Can you do that?”

“You are on top of your game today,” Natasha smirked, elbowing his arm, humor in her gaze. She actually liked Barnes. He was extremely easy on the eyes and never tried to hit on her, which she appreciated because work always came first. “Keep this up and he’s gonna put you on another missing donkey case.”

“Made $10,000 off that donkey,” Barnes replied. “I still can’t figure that one out.”

“Takes an ass to find an ass.”

“Am all about the ass,” he tossed back.

“See this? This is working well together,” she declared, not sure why she was pushing it, other than she didn’t want to get stuck with Steve after that awkward kiss she still wasn’t sure why they’d shared.

Fury cleared his throat. Again. Loudly. “The request comes from a niece of an old friend of mine, back in my CIA days.” They both knew Fury had worked in various government agencies back in the day, hence his many connections he used to get them out of trouble and away from scrutiny if a case went sideways. Got tired of following other people’s rules. Decided to make my own, was his only answer when Natasha had asked him about it. He held that information close to his chest and Natasha understood it. They’d all been betrayed one way or another by people they should have been able to trust. “Client is Sharon Carter. She’s using part of her inheritance and taking out of her 401K to give you a fee.” He held out two files, one for each of them to peruse. “But I’ll let her tell you about that.” He pressed a button on his phone. “Miss Hill, send in Agent Carter, please.”

Natasha and Bucky each flipped through a file full of information on a man named Brock Rumlow, who was currently serving time for drug trafficking. After a quick perusal, Natasha learned he also had priors for assault, terroristic threatening, and robbery. Apparently, the man had started out as a lowlife petty criminal who had managed to build a miniature empire based on dealing drugs, running arms, and abusive labor practices. The feds had managed to make some charges stick, but their star witness had recanted, leading the case to be overturned. The man was due to get out any day now.

Natasha and Bucky both looked up at the click of the door, watching as a statuesque blonde entered, shoulders squared and step confident as dark, accessing eyes took them in, flitting over Bucky to land and linger on Natasha. “Nice pantsuit,” she said, tone husky as she nodded at the tailored, form-fitting black jacket and pants Nat had paired with a lace peekaboo camisole top.

“Likewise,” Natasha grinned back, bright red lips tilting into a beguiling smile at the gray suit that Sharon had opted for, not quite as tight, but no less becoming, the striped, white shirt she wore underneath unbuttoned low enough to be interesting.

“Oh hell,” Bucky muttered.

“Don’t sulk,” Natasha whispered. “I’m sure she’ll give you some attention too.”

“Doubtful,” Sharon smirked, eyes entirely focused on Natasha for a full five seconds before she gave a stiff nod to the folder. “Rumlow’s a real piece of work, right? A real winner, my brother.”

“Your brother?” Natasha grimaced.

“Not that I claim him. That was another lifetime ago, and thankfully I got out before our parents ruined me like they did him. The way we were raised, it could only go one of two ways for us.” Her narrowed gaze moved from Nat to Bucky. “Either lean into the violence. Or escape it entirely. As you can see, we each chose separate paths.” She thrust her hand out. “Agent Sharon Carter.” She gave each of their palms a firm, no nonsense pump. She glanced back at Fury as if asking for permission before she backed up to rest her hip on the edge of his desk. “Our mother recently died.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side, watching her closely. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Sure, you are.” Her expression turned sour; mouth pinched as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to be. The only thing the woman ever gave me was her sister. My aunt actually gave a damn about me. My father, not so much. I didn’t have the right parts. And my mother, she wasn’t strong enough to push back against him, so she let him ignore me while he molded Brock into a mini version of himself.” Her direct stare lacked warmth, the hardness of her tone wrapping around them. “When I turned eighteen, Aunt Peggy formally adopted me. I took her last name and none of them even cared. I vowed to never go back, and I didn’t. Not when my father died. Not when Brock went to jail. But when my mother sent me a letter that she was dying…” Sharon hesitated, shaking her head in self-recrimination. “My aunt was so good, I guess I thought deep down my mother had to be too. That being weak didn’t mean she was bad. So, I went to see her, and as she’s lying there, on her deathbed, out of her mind with drugs, she starts talking about how she wants us to be a family again. All of us. When Brock gets out. Because see, it turns out he has a kid out there. And now he’s found her.”

“You didn’t know?” Natasha leaned forward, fully invested in the story, while Bucky leaned back, taking it in at a distance.

“No. There was no way for me to know. And she didn’t know either. Brock never told her. He…he hates to lose. And if he does, he’s never going to own up to it. Apparently, he had a girlfriend. She took off on him when she found out she was pregnant. How he let that happen, I’ll never know. The Brock I know…” Sharon shook her head, her jaw clenched. “She must have outsmarted him and ran. Good for her. But fast forward six years and here we are.”

“He figured out where she is.” Bucky guessed, a solemn edge to his voice.

“One of his goons was in a small town in Oregon, of all the damn places, and swears he saw this woman walking a girl into a private school there. He reported back to Brock. Brock told Mom everything in their weekly phone call. Told her to hang on until he gets out, that he was gonna find her granddaughter, bring her home with the Rumlows where she belongs. And my mother told me everything, even knowing I was now an agent because I’m blood and I belong with them too.”

“What happened with your mother?” Natasha asked quietly.

“She died two days later. I wasn’t there,” Sharon returned in a clipped voice. “I wore purple to the funeral. It was Aunt Peggy’s favorite color. Everything I know, that could possibly be of help is in that file.”

“You got nothing on the ex? Not even a name?” Bucky asked.

“Is it in the file?” Sharon snapped back. She forced a deep breath. “Look, as far as I can tell, Brock kept that part of his life private. Probably because a girlfriend is a weakness that could be used against him. I tried to dig up a picture, but there’s nothing. My mother knew nothing. But chances are they didn’t date that long if Mom didn’t know a thing about her. I don’t owe this woman anything—she’s a stranger--but I also know the courage it takes to break away from a Rumlow. Whoever she is, she deserves to know he’s coming for her and for the girl. And…” Sharon stopped, looking upward as she shook her head in defeat. “I remember the way my father’s palm felt against my cheek as he knocked me to the ground, spit on me, the way his hands dug into my arms as he picked me up to throw me in a dark closet. Brock can’t find this child. She will be a possession to him. He will hurt her. I’m sure of it. And what he will do to the ex for leaving him…” Sharon bit her lip. “Do you know he had a girlfriend in high school who disappeared under mysterious circumstances? She let another guy drive her home when she had car trouble, and he didn’t like it. No one could prove anything, but…” she shrugged her shoulders.

“What exactly is the assignment here?” Bucky asked, because this wasn’t as cut and dry as the others. Find the missing person, return him or her to their loved one, collect the reward. But in this case, Sharon didn’t want them returned, so what the hell were they supposed to do if they found Rumlow’s ex and his daughter?

“I just want them warned. I want them to know he’s about to be free and he’s coming.”

“How do you know he hasn’t already come for them? If he’s got men to do his dirty work-”

“My brother wouldn’t leave it to chance, not something like this. He’d want to be the one to find her, to see the look on her face when she realizes he won. He’s merciless like that. He won’t risk someone fucking this up. And he won’t let anyone steal his moment. And now that mom has died, he’ll focus entirely on getting his daughter back. He’ll need a new family to surround himself with.”

“We can help them run,” Fury said with a pensive murmur. “I can get them new identities. Hell, depending on what the woman knows, I can get her into witness protection while they build another case against him if she’s willing to testify.”

“What about you?” Bucky asked, sharp blue eyes never leaving Sharon. “The girl is your niece. You want to know her?”

“I’m not as magnanimous as my Aunt Peggy was. I got no room in my life for a kid. I’m happy to leave her with her mom, but I can’t leave them as targets. I’ve got no jurisdiction in Oregon, and I’ve worked too damn hard to separate myself from that family to risk my career for this. I want them to have a fighting chance, but I can’t save them. Not to mention, if Brock finds out I visited our mother, it won’t be hard for him to figure out she might have told me about this. I couldn’t go and figure this out even if I wanted to. I’d lead him right to them because he’d see me coming.”

“I’m in,” Natasha said quickly, the choice made as soon as she’d heard there was a child involved. How well she knew the evils that could befall a young girl left unprotected.

“I’m in,” Bucky returned, tone cool, no nonsense, his eyes shadowed with demons of his own.

“You don’t even know the reward I’m offering,” Sharon answered with surprise.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m in,” Bucky returned with a shrug. Often the case wasn’t about the reward—sure, he had to make a living. Sure, it was nice to collect it—but the only true satisfaction was seeing people reunited with a loved one…or getting the answers that may eventually give them peace. Sharon could be offering fifty dollars or fifty thousand dollars…either way he was taking it. Steel blue eyes darted toward Fury. “What’s the plan? We don’t have a lot to go on here.”

“We work with what we know. The woman was seen dropping her child off at a private school in Astoria, Oregon. Based on her age, she should be in kindergarten.”

“I did some digging and found the school,” Sharon added. “There is only one kindergarten class there. Brock’s daughter has to be in that class. If you can find the kid, you can find her mother.”

“I got some strings I can pull,” Fury continued. “Our best bet is Nat going in as a substitute kindergarten teacher.”

“Wait a minute,” Bucky tensed, his face betraying his unease. “That seems problematic on a lot of levels. We can’t just infiltrate a classroom full of minors-”

“I have a teaching degree,” Nat mumbled, albeit reluctantly, her eyes moving toward the ceiling because she really didn’t want to have to explain herself on this one.

“You…have…”

She’d officially rendered Barnes speechless. Fury absently scratched his eyebrow but wisely kept his mouth shut. “Yes Barnes. You’d be surprised all the things I tried back when I fooled myself into thinking I could have a normal life.”

“Like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole, I bet,” Sharon reasoned, her lips tilting into a sly smile, hooded dark eyes sizing Nat up. “I found my life went much better when I stopped trying to fill my holes with things that didn’t belong.” She smirked when everyone looked at her, giving her shoulders an innocent shrug. “Just some advice worth pondering.”

“All right then,” Bucky muttered.

“Hell, Carter, I’ve known you since you were a child,” Fury groused. “Could you stop hitting on my best rewardist?”

“Hey!” Bucky said at the same time as Sharon said, “No.”

Nat just grinned back, giving Sharon her full attention.

“We don’t have time for this to be a thing,” Bucky warned. “I need you at 100, Nat.”

“I always am, James.” With a sigh, she looked at Fury. “My degree is rusty, but I can convincingly portray a teacher and keep the kids on track with their learning. We should be able to be in and out in a week or two at most. It shouldn’t interfere with their learning.”

“You two can pretend to be married-”

“Why?” Bucky shuddered.

“He wishes,” Nat returned.

“Hmm…” Sharon hummed, shifting her focus between Bucky and Nat with definite intrigue.

“Enough out of you,” Fury scowled at the blonde. “It’s a small town. It gives you both an excuse to be there. She’s filling in as teacher, you’re her supportive house husband.”

“I’ll just stay completely out of sight. She works on the inside, gets to know the parents and kids. I dig through the information she finds behind the scenes to figure out who we’re looking for. No need to fit me for a wedding band.”

“Does that mean I get more of the reward if I’m doing most of the legwork?” Nat asked.

“I think you’ll be rewarded enough,” Barnes quipped, his gaze slanting Sharon’s way.

“Winner takes all,” Sharon said with a sultry simper.

“One kindergarten class and we know we’re looking for a girl. That automatically narrows our field down,” Nat interjected, bringing the conversation back to business even as her gaze boldly locked with Sharon’s.

“We need to work quickly, before Rumlow gets out.” Bucky nodded, glancing at Sharon. “We sure Rumlow won’t send someone after her?”

“He won’t,” she said with quiet certainty. “I know how his mind works. It’s the kind of thing, he’s not leaving to chance. Not when it’s his child. He’ll go after her himself. Knowing Brock, he’s been searching for them for years. He’s not gonna send someone else and risk her getting away from him again.” She visibly shuddered, a sign of emotion she usually tamped down. “God help her and that child, if he finds them before you do.”

“We’re not gonna let that happen,” Nat assured her. “We’re trackers. It’s what we do. We find people.”

“We will find them,” Bucky promised. “And we’ll keep them safe.”

Chapter Text

Two days later, Bucky and Nat were on a plane headed for Oregon thanks to Nick Fury and his infinite string-pulling ability. “Agent Carter helped him,” Nat speculated, because apparently their mysterious benefactor was living rent free in Nat’s head, no matter how aloof she attempted to appear over the whole thing.

“Like Fury ever needs help making things happen.”

“I didn’t say he did. Just that they made this happen quickly. Those are some lofty strings. She’s got connections. I looked her aunt up. That woman was legendary.”

Natasha had her own connections. Bucky never really questioned it, but he knew she’d seen some shit and knew some people, not all of them good. “Big shoes to fill,” he returned, expression pinched as the kids behind him kicked his seat. Again. “Too bad Lovergirl couldn’t spring for first class.”

“First. That’s offensive.”

“How?”

“Because I said so. Second, we always have to pay our own way. Why would this assignment be any different?”

As rewardists, they handled whatever bills that came with getting the work done, their only compensation the actual reward once the job was complete. “Because it is different. All of it. You’re going undercover in a fucking elementary school, Nat. We’re in a shitload of trouble if we fumble this one.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” she said, the air of confidence she exuded beguiling. Though he didn’t like working with anyone, when it was a necessity, he would choose Nat every time.

He tapped his fingers on the arm of his seat as he pitched forward thanks to the antics of the rambunctious kids behind him. There were three of them, seated without parental supervision, not that he could blame a parent for opting out of that mess. He spoke through his teeth with forced restraint. “How is this not annoying you?”

“They’re just children,” Nat shrugged. “It’s better than crying, believe me.”

Bucky felt pretty sure he despised kids, though he didn’t have a lot of experience with them. The closest he’d ever come to being around one was his younger sister Becca. That didn’t count because they’d never been afforded the privilege of being young, everything in life a lesson, one step closer to the inevitable end of the world according to their paranoid father. “Thank fuck you’re the teacher here.”

“That man said the ‘f’ word!” A shrill voice accused behind him. Apparently, they were nosey little fuckers too.

“We should tell the plane lady,” another said in a loud whisper.

“You should mind your own business,” Bucky all but growled over his shoulder as Nat elbowed him in the ribs. “What?” he hissed at her.

“Quit arguing with the little humans.”

“More like monsters,” he grumbled, more thankful than oughta be allowed by law that she was lead on this one. It wasn’t that she was any more suited for the role than him—teaching degree or not, she didn’t have much experience with children either, after all. —she was just superior undercover, able to sell herself in any role. If he ever left this job for normal day-to-day living, he’d miss watching her work.

“You’d kill a kid,” Nat trilled, not sounding remotely overwhelmed by the minefield she was about to walk into. A room full of five-year-olds. What a nightmare. Natasha was effing fearless though.

Bucky gritted his teeth as his seat jerked forward. He was a solid man—how were these kids moving his seat with their obnoxious little feet? And they were so damn loud. The one little effer right behind him had already tossed his Hot Wheel over the seat and hit Bucky in the head twice.

When it happened a third time, he’d had the freak enough. He grabbed the toy and spun around. A little blond menace with wide blue eyes that reminded him slightly of his oldest friend Steve—a picture of perfect innocence as he annoyed the absolute shit out of everyone--stuttered out a thanks as Bucky thrust the toy at him. Bucky wasn’t feeling particularly merciful or polite as he clutched the pencil he’d been using to make notes on the Rumlow file and glared at the kid. “Stop messing around. Stop kicking my seat.” He snapped the pencil with purpose, not once breaking eye contact with the kid. “Understood?”

He didn’t wait for a response, turning back around. “What?” He asked when Nat shook her head at him.

“You’re terrible.”

“What’d I do?”

She blinked at him. Somehow Barnes could still project an artless air even when he was being a complete asshole. “If you get us thrown off this plane-”

“It’s not my job to watch after somebody else’s children. I paid for my ticket.”

“I hope you don’t plan to have children one day.”

“Hell no.” He visibly shuddered at the thought. “Why would I want children one day?” Him? A father?

What a disaster.

**********

“I’m fine,” Nat had said after coming back from her second round of throwing up in the airplane bathroom.

“Did Carter already get you pregnant?” He asked with a smug grin, because they’d always had the sort of relationship where they could give each other a little hell.

“You’re an asshole,” she said, even as he handed her the Sprite he’d risked the wrath of the flight attendants to get, since the seatbelt sign had been illuminated due to mild turbulence. She took it gratefully. “Just so you know, I don’t have a uterus.”

He stared at her blankly, huffing out a breath. “Well fuck. I really am an asshole.”

“If you try to apologize for it right now…”

“Well, I’m not gonna do that. That’d just make it worse.”

“Did you learn a lesson?” She questioned sharply, ignoring the jagged churning of her stomach. When he gave a muted nod, she almost smiled. “Who knew you’d be perfect practice for this undercover kindergarten gig. Maybe that’s why Fury sent you instead of Clint.”

She knew he wanted to argue but was also too scared to open his mouth after his last major faux pas. She was absolutely gonna milk it for all it was worth. She popped open the Sprite, a little mollified because he’d made the effort to get it for her. For a man who acted like he didn’t care about much, he had a habit of accidentally showing his hand. Instead of drinking it, she put the cold can to her forehead.

“I hesitate to say this. You kinda look like shit right now.”

“And yet you said it anyway. You’ve learned absolutely nothing. No wonder you’re perpetually single. You do not know how to sweet talk a lady.”

“Well considering I’m like seventy-seven percent gay, I think I’ll be okay.”

“Guys like to be sweet talked too, Barnes.” She ended the charge with a groan, pain spiking through her stomach.

“What the hell, Natty?”

“Oh, shut up! You know I hate that. And for the record, I’m fine.”

**********

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said with a firm shake of her head the first time he had to stop the rental car on the side of the road so she could make a run for the bushes.

“Really, it’s all good. Bad takeout or something,” she reiterated after the second time.

“I must have caught a bug or something,” she’d said, laid out on the back seat after the third time, perspiration dotting her forehead even as she gave a pathetic shiver.

“Ya think?” he said, glancing in the rearview with alarm as he navigated traffic. He’d never actually seen Nat sick. They’d worked together for years and frankly, neither of them ever let anything get to them. Got no time for sickness, Boy, his father’s harsh voice echoed in his head. You think when they come for you, they’re gonna care if you’re sick?! Bucky had never figured out who exactly ‘they’ were, his father always vague on the potential threat in favor of training his children to avoid it.

“I hate feeling like this,” she moaned the fourth time, dry heaving on the side of the road as Bucky stood awkwardly beside her, patting her back and making sure her bright red hair stayed out of projectile range. The fact she wasn’t fighting him was further proof of how miserable she must feel.

“I hate it too,” he mumbled, glancing away because no matter what awful shit he saw, seeing throw up still made him want to throw up himself. He pushed down the twinge of nausea, knowing Nat would never let him live that shit down.

As they finally rolled up to their rental house in Astoria, Oregon, she lolled her head toward him with a helpless whimper, sinking further into the leather seats. He sighed because there was only one way this was gonna go, and really it was an honor that Nat trusted him that much. “We will never speak of this,” he said sternly.

“Fuck no. Never.” Nat’s feeble attempt at a nod made her wince. He walked around and opened the door, reaching down to scoop her into his arms and carry her into the house. With a weak smile she leaned against his warmth. “I promise, I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“You better,” he grumbled, terrified to contemplate any other outcome.

Tomorrow, they started kindergarten.

**********

All Natasha had to show for a night of tossing, turning, hacking, and vomiting was a headache and high fever the next morning. She groaned as sunlight streamed over her in the unfamiliar bed, rolling over to grab her phone. “Shit,” she creaked in misery as she noted the time. How was this happening, right now? She never got sick. Even when her body rebelled to try to pull her under, she could fight it off with medicine and sheer determination. It was like Fate had intervened and decided none of her usual tricks were going to work this time. You have to get up, her brain demanded, even as she collapsed back against the pillow that was still damp from her sweat. Fuck this. I don’t think I can. She didn’t want to think about how many strings Fury had yanked to get her into a rental house and into that school in such a short amount of time. How much more suspicious would it look if they had to get a substitute for the new substitute on the first day, only for the original substitute to come back in? She really needed to get it together.

She forced herself to scoot up into an upright position when she heard the soft knock, the door easing open a fraction so Bucky could poke his head in. “You decent?”

“Rarely, but you can come in.”

Nat sucked in a breath when Bucky stepped into the room. Decked out in a suit and tie, he looked impeccable as he proceeded to place a tray across her lap. “Warm tea. A glass of water. Some medicine and some oatmeal. And a shot of whiskey. Something is bound to do the trick.”

Arching a brow, she went straight for the whiskey, tossing it back, the burn intensifying against a throat already rubbed raw thanks to her night of heaving. “I hate oatmeal.” Her voice came out raspy, because maybe whiskey that early wasn’t her best bet. “I can still do this,” she said obstinately, mainly because she was certain that even in possession of his full health, Bucky could not do this.

“You aren’t gonna bring these kinds of germs into a class full of five-year-olds, and you know it. And the clock’s ticking here. Every day we waste is another day Rumlow gets closer to his daughter.”

“How do you think you’re going to pull this off?”

“I contacted Agent Carter last night. She managed to work up an impressive fake resume for me in a short amount of time. She sends best wishes for a speedy recovery along with her personal number.”

Nat perked up a bit at that. “Really? She’s not pissed that I’m about to blow the whole case?”

“She’s super pissed. She said y’all could discuss punishment when you call her.”

Nat’s eyes widened. “She said that?”

“No,” Bucky scoffed. “She didn’t say that. Shit Nat. Geeze. And we’re not gonna blow this case. I got it. That’s why there’s two. We just switch roles.”

She groaned. “I’m so sorry, Barnes. I don’t know who I’m more sorry for. You or those kids.”

“They’re kids. How hard can it be?” He shrugged, conveniently forgetting his ‘I hate kids’ meltdown the day before on the plane. He stepped back to straighten his tie. “How do I look?”

“You look like a banker,” she sighed. “And maybe lose the gun? I know the crazy right thinks all teachers should carry, but we aren’t there yet. And that’s a red flag if ever.”

He patted the shoulder harness under his jacket, letting out a beleaguered moan as he relented and removed his piece. “I was gonna remove it before I left.”

“Those kids are gonna eat you alive, Barnes,” she managed pityingly before another cough shook her shoulders.

“Keep that up and I’m keeping Carter’s number for myself.” When she arched a disbelieving brow, he shrugged. “Fine. Not for myself-myself. Just away from you.”

“I have a right to be worried.”

“They’re a bunch of five and six-year-olds. I’ve seen everything in this job. How much trouble can they be?”

“Famous last words of a fool.”

“Shut up. And get some rest. I got this,” he said with a confidence that Natasha did not feel.

Chapter Text

“I got this. It’s gonna be fine,” Bucky repeated under his breath. As a tracker, he’d hung off cliffs, infiltrated a cult, been shot by mobsters, stabbed by a jealous spouse or two, and almost had to cut off his own arm during an avalanche. That’s not even counting the crazy shit his father had him learn to survive a possible apocalypse. He could handle a bunch of effing kids. He had this. He’d walk into that school, take over that class, and get the information he needed.

Probably in a day or two. There were only so many children it could be. He’d be fine.

Absolutely fine.

“What are you doing under here, Little One?” he said, stopping in front of a shrub outside the school building when he heard the faint, pitiful mewling. He crouched down, taking in the small white kitten, a wave of worry and compassion coursing through him. “Oh Sweetheart, you are little bitty. I don’t have time to help you right now.” A pair of big blue eyes that looked already defeated by the world stared back at him in hopeless despair. Biting back a curse, he checked the time, did some quick calculations, and decided to risk it. Within ten minutes he’d sprinted to a convenience store down the street and made it back with a can of cat food, a plastic bowl, and a bottle of water. Bucky wasn’t much for children, but he’d never been able to resist an animal in need. “It’s not much, but maybe it’ll help you out before you get to where you need to go,” he cooed, pouring the water in the bowl and opening the can. The kitten made no immediate move to accept the offering. “I know you’re scared, but you gotta let people help when they want to. You’re a survivor. I can see it in your eyes. You’re going to be okay.” He reached out, tentatively racing a finger down the silky length of her fur. The kitten leaned into the touch, and Bucky blew out a relieved breath, feeling buoyed by the interaction.

He fidgeted with his suit jacket, raking a hand through his dark hair as he entered the school. He signed in at the front and stated his business to the assistant, who sized him up like he was a snack. “Dr. Rambeau will be with you shortly, Mr. Barnes,” she said with a flirty grin, pointing vaguely to a line of hard plastic chairs outside the principal’s office. He found himself stuck between one kid who was sniffling and another who was anxiously toeing his sneaker against the vinyl composition tile, Bucky’s leg bouncing restlessly in the bright blue, too small chair that he was half afraid might cave under his weight and send him sprawling. “I wanna go home,” the sniffling little girl moaned beside him.

“You’n me both, Kid. Get it together,” he mumbled back. Green eyes widened in shock as her chin started quivering. Well hell. He was in the process of trying to decide if he should try to do something to comfort her, when the most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his life walked past him. The man stopped, turned, took in the crying girl, and shuffled back, extracting a dum-dum he just happened to have somewhere on his muscular body.

Where Bucky wasn’t even sure.

Broad-shouldered and fit, a burgundy polo shirt stretched across the stranger’s powerful chest, colorful stripes of navy, marigold, pink, and sky blue embellishing the end of the sleeves that wrapped around his massive biceps. Bucky tried to find a pocket but couldn’t.

“I don’t know what has you blue, Sadie-Lu,” he told the little girl, but I’ve heard a bubblegum sucker always makes things better.”

“That’s my favorite,” the little girl said with a watery smile, grinning at the man as if he was a superhero.

“You hang tight. I know Doc Rambeau will be with you in a hop, skip, and a holler, all right?”

What?

Curious blue eyes followed the man as he continued past because shit, he looked as good going as he did coming, a pair of navy dockers housing a backside that didn’t know the meaning of the word quit. Fuck. Get it together, Barnes! He mentally chided himself for objectifying the stranger…in an elementary school of all places! But he has a great personality too, his brain rushed to defend. Which…true. Bucky had figured out in less than a minute that there was way more to the man than a handsome face and a hot body.

The man stopped and stooped in front of a child a few chairs down, coming eye level to the boy Bucky guessed to be around eight—not that he was good at crap like that. A kid looked like a kid. They all looked little. And irritating. “Okay, J-Man, you know why you’re up here, right? Why I had to send you to the office?”

His voice…his voice could melt butter, deep and smooth…so very calm and steady with just a hint of roughness. Authority.

Bucky swallowed hard. He really needed to nip this interest in the bud. He had no time for it. Not to mention he was living a lie, rolling into this school as a fake teacher.

The kid only cried harder, the man reaching out to put a soothing hand on his shoulder. He was so good at this, Bucky thought to himself, guessing he must be a teacher since he’d been the one to send the child to the office. “Around here, we gotta use our words, Buddy. There’s more strength in that than always picking a fight.”

“But, but—he was wrong!” The boy sniveled.

“I know that. And you best believe he’s getting a note home for what he said. But look at where you are. The one who had to go to the office because you’re the one who hit. That’s not a way to solve problems, Jay.”

“Are you mad at me, Mr. Wilson?” Judging by the way Jay’s voice broke, it was the worst possible outcome in the world. Bucky could suddenly relate, the thought of facing disappointment in the man’s umber colored eyes making his stomach clench. What the hell?!

“Nah, you know we’re cool,” he answered, suddenly shifting as if feeling the attention. He glanced up and around, locking eyes with Bucky when he settled on the source. One side of his mouth quirked up in a tentative smile as his warm gaze shifted across Bucky’s face. Bucky sucked in a breath, completely floored at what felt like a defining moment. One he couldn’t explain. Didn’t understand. But still felt a little life changing.

He probably just needed to get laid. It’d been a damned long time, after all. What else could explain the instantaneous connection he felt with this pretty, bright-eyed man?

The man—Mr. Wilson—turned back to his student. “We gotta use our words. Not our fists, Them’s the rules, got me?” When the kid gave a teary nod, he reached out to ruffle his black hair. “I wouldn’t let anyone go shoving on you, and I can’t let anyone go shoving on Miles, either.”

They chatted a bit more before Mr. Wilson rose up to get back to his classroom. On his way past Bucky, they shared another look. Another smile. Did this man feel the instant connection too? Bucky shook his head as Mr. Wilson strolled past, averting his eyes when he really wanted to ogle that ass again. Get it together, for fuck’s sake, he immediately chided himself. You’re here to teach kindergarten!

**********

“Can I help you?” Dr. Maria Rambeau, the Director of Astoria Academy raked him with an unimpressed stare.

“I’m here to take over the kindergarten class.”

“We were expecting a Miss Romanov?” Rambeau continued coolly.

“Yeah, well there was a change of plans. Now you’re expecting me. Mr. Barnes.” He indicated the file of fake credentials that he’d already presented her, suspecting she’d verify every bit of information. He wasn’t worried about what she would find, figuring Fury and Carter somehow had him covered.

“It says you’re qualified to teach through 12^th and have been teaching high school for eight years. Why the sudden shift to primary?”

“Just needed a change. High school can be rough,” he answered vaguely. “You see a lot of stuff.”

“Kindergarten can be rough too, Mr. Barnes. Make no mistake. I’m not sure you’re ready for what those kids are going to throw at you.” She narrowed speculative dark eyes. “You know, I’m dying to know why four weeks into a new semester my superintendent tells me that Mrs. Hagley, a kindergarten teacher with 25 years of experience is suddenly going on vacation and her role must be filled for a few weeks. And before I could question it, turns out he already has a replacement in line. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

He shrugged. “If kindergarten is as hard as you say, sounds like she was due.”

“Hmm,” she answered, nod stilted. “Okay Mr. Barnes. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to try you out in this role because it’s my job to answer to the superintendent. You should know that I’ll be watching you though. My responsibility is to the kids in this school. If I don’t think you can cut it, I will not hesitate to go against him. I don’t know what’s going on here, but do not mistake me for a fool who will turn a blind eye if I think for a second those kids aren’t getting what they need. Understood?”

“Yes, Dr. Rambeau.”

“Good. Welcome to Astoria Academy then.” She pushed away from her desk. “Let’s get you to class.”

He followed her, his stomach knotting in apprehension when he heard the cacophony of childish voices on the other side of the door she finally stopped at. All of them so very…high. And small. And loud.

She left him in the hallway. He peeked in, a mild surge of terror shooting through him at the utter chaos of young children running around, tossing about balls and books, toys and coats. They were small and hectic. He didn’t freaking like it.

And the room itself was so…so…yellow. Yellow chairs. Yellow curtains. Yellow streamers stretched across the ceiling. Freaking yellow everywhere he turned. His lip curled at the assault on his eyes. Where was the black? The gray? The navy? Nothing but yellow, everywhere he looked.

Through the door he heard Dr. Rambeau round the children up, her stern voice immediately sweeping the room, cutting through the disorder with quiet authority. Bucky couldn’t help but be impressed. Within moments she had them seated crisscross, applesauce as she called it (he made a mental note to remember the term he’d never heard but seemed useful.) on the carpet in front of her. She explained that their regular teacher was on vacation but would be back.

“Did she die?” A frantic little voice wheezed.

“No Peter. She went to see someone, but she will be back,” Dr. Rambeau patiently said.

“Did they die?”

“No Peter. No one died.”

“Everyone dies.”

“Eventually, yes.”

“When will I die?”

Bucky’s eyed the classroom warily, loosening his top button as he forced himself to go in. This was quite possibly the worst idea he’d ever come up with. He should’ve sent Nat in with a throw-up bucket.

“You don’t need to worry about that Peter.”

“Ray died!” A little blonde girl murmured, tears filling a pair of big brown eyes.

“He was just a bug!” Another kid said.

“He wasn’t just a bug,” a boy answered, nudging the little blonde in the side in a show of support. “He was important to Tandy.”

“Thanks Tyrone,” she murmured, shifting a little closer to the boy.

“Ray was your bug?” Bucky interjected, eyeing the blonde. One of the girls in this class was Rumlow’s daughter. Would he strike paydirt on his first attempt?

“From Princess and the Frog, duh,” another girl said, eyeing Bucky with complete mistrust. “Don’t you know Disney?”

“Yes MJ,” Dr. Rambeau nodded at the other little girl, who was giving him some serious side-eye. “It’s a movie.”

“Where exactly is Mrs. Hagley?” MJ questioned with a frown.

“It was sad,” Tandy continued over her. “The movie made me sad.”

“We’re all gonna die like Ray,” Peter declared.

“Well, nobody died, and Mrs. Hagley will be back. But until she is, we have a new friend to help us out. Class, meet Mr. Barnes. He will be your substitute kindergarten teacher.”

Bucky glanced down at the array of awestruck little faces now staring up at him. What the hell had he done? He could not do this. They were so small. And he towered over them. One wrong move and he might accidentally break one of them! And why was there so much godawful yellow everywhere?!

“Everyone say, ‘good morning, Mister Barnes’.”

“Good morning, Mister Barnes,” came a chorus of tiny voices in perfect unison that left him feeling like he’d stepped foot in The Shining. Fuck.

“Uh, good morning. Kids,” he stumbled.

Dr. Rambeau arched a brow. “They’re all yours. I’ll be watching,” she said in a low voice as she went for the door.

“All right. Yeah, so…” Bucky turned back to the kids. “Yeah.” He felt awkward. Unsure and bumbling. Tripping over a toy truck and nearly faceplanting didn’t help, the kids breaking out into a fit of giggles. “Very funny,” he grumbled, kicking the truck a little before getting down to business. “Quiet,” he said sternly, all the giggles fading as the children took in his serious expression. The sooner he got the information he needed, the sooner he could be out of here. “I’m gonna ask some questions. Y’all are going to answer them. Capiche?”

“I don’t like peaches,” came a small voice from somewhere in the back. It was male, so Bucky didn’t bother looking.

“Me either.”

“My uncle is allergic to peaches. If he eats them, he will die.”

Bucky growled. “Stop talking. I’m gonna talk and you’re gonna answer by raising your hands. That’s what we’re doing. Got it?” Nobody responded, so he continued. “Who all was born in Astoria?” A group of twenty kids stared back at him blankly, all of them fidgety and uncertain. “Don’t be shy. Raise your hands.” Every single one of them raised their hands. He blinked. There was no way. “Okay. Put your hands down. Hmm. Let’s try this. Raise your hands if you were born somewhere else. Like a different place. Like California. Or New York. Or Louisiana.” All the kids proceeded to raise their hands. How did these kids not know where they were freaking born? By the time he was their age, he was spearing fish and making his own bullets.

Time to regroup.

He closed his eyes. “Okay, um…just…everyone go find something to do. Go play. Quietly!” he said, shooing them with a hand. He watched them scatter, moving to his desk to find the class roll. He’d get a list of names and get Nat on it.

“Mr. Barnes?”

He looked down to see a little hand tugging at his pants. “Yeah?”

“I need to go to the bathroom,” a little boy said.

“Okay, go.”

The kid started hopping around, his face showing his distress. “I don’t wanna go by myself!”

“Why?”

“Ned won’t go by himself,” the little girl—MJ—came to a stop beside him.

“Why not?”

“There might be a monster in there!” Ned exclaimed bouncing on his heels furiously, leaving Bucky terrified he might spring a leak. What was he gonna do if this kid had a leak? Did they all have changes of clothing here? If so, where? He gave the room a quick once over, zeroing in on the cubbies along the wall with names underneath them. Bingo!

“There’s not a monster in there,” Bucky reasoned, clinging to his patience.

“There might be!”

“There’s not.”

“How do you know? Have you been in there?” MJ challenged. Bucky was pretty sure he did not like this kid.

“Have you seen a monster in the bathroom?” Bucky bit back. Was he arguing with a five-year-old? Yes, he was arguing with a five-year-old.

“No, but Ned thinks there’s monsters everywhere.”

“Shut up, MJ,” Ned shot back.

“I’m just answering the man,” MJ shrugged as the rest of the class oohed and aahed.

“Ahh, you said shut up,” Peter told Ned with wide eyes. “He might send you to Doctor R.”

“Don’t send me to Doctor R. I just need to pee,” Ned pleaded desperately.

“I’m not gonna send you to…” Bucky blew out a breath, feeling desperate himself.

“You said shut up too,” another girl said to Peter. “Now, you’ll hafta go, too.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did too, when you said he said shut up.”

“I don’t wanna!” Tears welled in Peter’s eyes.

“Now you said it, Kate,” MJ tossed in toward the girl. “So, you’ll hafta go. It’s a vicious cycle.”

“But, but-”

“Nobody’s going to the office.” Bucky frowned at MJ. This girl was a menace. “C’mon Ned. I’m gonna get you some help.” Bucky looked around the classroom. “Y’all stay put. Be quiet.”

He pulled Ned, who was still hopping up and down into the hall. “Okay. I’ll walk with you. Go to the restroom.”

“I don’t know where it is.”

“How can you not know where it is? You go here every day!”

“How can you not know where it is? You’re the teacher!”

Bucky placed his arms behind his back, gripping his wrist with the other hand. Son-of-a-freaking…okay. Teaching was the best birth control ever. Well, besides being mostly gay. “Just stay here. I’m gonna get some help.” He left Ned bouncing in the hall and made it over to the nearest classroom. He peered in the window and there stood gorgeous Mr. Wilson talking to his class. He glanced at the sign on the door. It said Mr. Wilson-1^st grade.

“Class, y’all ready to practice sight words?” Bucky heard Mr. Wilson say as he tapped on the glass. Mr. Wilson looked up, giving him a funny look. Bucky beckoned in desperation. Mr. Wilson’s eyes widened even as he motioned for a girl, waiting for her to come up front. “America, take over for a minute, okay? Everyone say the word aloud when America shows you the card. I’ll be right back.”

Bucky blew out a grateful breath when he opened his door. “Can I help you?”

“Mr. Barnes!” Ned whined. “I gotta go so bad!”

Bucky gestured toward the boy. “He’s gotta go so bad! I don’t know where the restroom is, and he’s convinced there’s a monster in there!”

“Ned and his monsters,” Mr. Wilson said with a smile that bordered on stunning. Did he just walk around smiling like that all the time? Bucky thought inanely as he followed the man.

Mr. Wilson squeezed the child’s shoulder. “Okay Little Man. Let’s go. Nedly, we’ve talked about this before. There’s no monsters. And we don’t wait until the last minute to go to the bathroom.”

“I know Mr. Sam. I mean Mister Wilson. I’m sorry.”

Sam. Bucky immediately grabbed the name and tucked it close. He looked like a Sam. It was a name that evoked strength. Character. Kindness. Fun. Sam smiled at him now. “First day?”

“That obvious?”

“A little,” he grinned as he steered Ned away. “Don’t worry. I got this. Rule of thumb though. Always scope out where the bathroom, cafeteria, and gym are. Those are most kids three favorite places.”

“Thank you.”

Sam turned around, walking backward as he fixed a wide grin at Bucky. “When I did my student teaching it was for the k-class. Mrs. Sellars always said kindergarten is like the ocean. You never wanna turn your back on it.”

“They’re fine,” Bucky called back, gifting Sam with his own smile because it was impossible not to. A smile like Sam Wilson’s demanded a reaction. When Sam turned back around, Bucky took a moment to covertly appreciate the view. How was one man this perfect? Crazy attractive, not to mention insanely kind? “If you say so,” Sam said as he disappeared around the corner with Ned.

Bucky’s stomach flipped. What the hell was even happening to him? One would think he’d never scoped out a handsome man before. Though truthfully, Sam Wilson took handsome to a whole other mind-blowing level. “I got this. It’s all under control,” he mumbled to himself, opening the classroom. The sound of screaming, crying, and howling poured out.

Blue eyes widened in horror. Kids were running. Kids were yelling. Kids were throwing books and painting tables. These weren’t kids at all. They were bloody monsters!

And Bucky did not have this.

He loudly cleared his throat. “Cross your applesauce!” he demanded. Shit. No…that wasn’t it. What had Dr. Rambeau said about applesauce again? The only kid who even pretended to listen was MJ, and she just rolled her eyes before returning to the book she was reading from her place on the rug. He knew without a doubt she knew the right phrase. He also knew without a doubt, she would be zero percent helpful.

“Kids. Children!” He said, increasing his volume to no avail. He was a tall dude, some would even say imposing, and somehow this bunch of unruly hellions were oblivious.

He tried to remain calm. He tried taking deep breaths. He tried gently telling the kids to stop the wildness and calm down. But it was hard to hear gentleness over all that yelling, so he ended up yelling right back. “SHUT UP!”

Deafening silence followed his roar.

The kids were horrified. He was horrified. “You’re gonna hafta go to Doctor R’s office,” Peter whispered, his chin trembling.

Tandy started sniffling. Then another girl started sniffling. Then a third. And in the place of feral five-year-olds he now had fearful ones. They were sniffing. They were crying. They were scared and he felt like the monster. Even MJ shrank into herself, and he would have predicted most things rolled off her small shoulders.

“Stay…just stay…” he said gulping down a desperate breath as he made a break for it. He ran straight outside, well aware that he couldn’t leave five-year-olds by themselves, but also aware that he had no freaking idea what else to do with them. Once he hit the sunshine, he growled in self-recrimination, his mind furiously racing for a way to wipe those terrified looks off those precious little faces. Because while they were annoying, they were still little. And deserved better.

Kids. What did kids like? He was a kid once. What did he like? A bowie knife! Wait no…that wouldn’t work. Kids…what did all kids like? He huffed a breath as sudden inspiration struck. He headed for the shrub, sending up a silent prayer of thanks because the white kitten still huddled under it. He noted with relief that it had eaten the food. He carefully picked it up, his words as gentle as the feline’s demeanor. With a quick glance, he realized she was a girl. “Be good for me, yeah, Sweetheart? Save my ass in there?”

He carried her back to the classroom. The kids were sitting quietly, still like Medusa-turned statues, too scared to move. “All right class. I’m not the only new one here today. Meet our class pet.”

The kids gaped at him in varying states of shock and happiness, tears forgotten. “We get a pet?”

“We can keep him?!”

“It’s a girl. And we will have to name her,” Bucky said.

“If it bites you, you’ll get rabies and die,” Peter said staunchly.

“You won’t get rabies,” Bucky said. Though now that he thought about it, bringing a stray kitten he knew nothing about into a classroom of kids probably wasn’t the best bet. What if someone had al-

“What if someone is allergic?” MJ asked dryly. Who even was this kid? Going around bursting bubbles.

“Are you allergic?” Bucky asked back.

“No.”

“Does anyone know if they’re allergic to cats?” Bucky said, glancing around. Surely, they were all old enough to know that.

“I’m not!”

“Me either.”

“No!”

“Just peanut butter.”

“If you eat peanut butter, will you die?”

“Can we pet her?”

“One at a time. But you have to stay calm,” Bucky said firmly. “Line up. If you can’t be calm, she might get scared and then I will have to take her out.” Bucky blew out a relieved breath as the children diligently followed instructions, on their best behavior so they could meet the kitten. Thank fuck, this was working!

The door opened as Ned came back in. Bucky glanced up from the white kitten in his hands that Kate was currently petting to lock eyes with Sam. “Doc Rambeau will probably have words about that,” he said with a nod toward the feline, his eyes gleaming with amusement as Ned hurried into the back of the line to take a turn. “But I ain’t mad about it.” With a wink, Sam departed. Taking a piece of Bucky’s heart with him.

Chapter Text

Bucky suppressed his happy dance as the clock struck 2:45, ushering kids out of the classroom and into cars with impressive speed. He sent a prayer of gratitude out into the void when the school day ended without further incident. Sure, very little learning occurred. On top of that, clue-gathering was practically non-existent. But he’d finished strong—no yelling, no cussing, and no tears.

The class had voted to name the kitten Alpine. He wasn’t sure why, but it was certainly better than the second-place contender, Vanilla Frosting, so he didn’t argue. With Alpine settled on a towel he’d found draped across the filing cabinet, he’d checked all the kindergarten student medical forms in the office on his lunch break and discovered no animal related allergies. (He’d also discreetly made copies of the files to take back to Nat.) Dr. Rambeau had stopped by to let him know they absolutely could not keep a cat in the classroom full time, but she wasn’t opposed to it visiting on occasion. Bucky felt immediate victory in the proclamation until he remembered he wouldn’t be there for the long haul, so it didn’t really matter if the cat stayed or not. Still though…he didn’t like the thought of those sweet but mildly demonic little faces being disappointed.

Maybe he could give Alpine to Mrs. Hagley when she got back? He certainly didn’t have time to keep the precious little gal.

Heaving a defeated sigh, he scanned his surroundings. His room was in chaos, his body hurt all over, and he had a raging headache. He planted his ass on a table, stretching his legs out as he wallowed in misery for a solid five minutes, his reverie disturbed when he noticed MJ standing at the door. “Why are you here?” He felt vaguely alarmed that he had failed to get her where she needed to be, though Dr. Rambeau had collected her shortly before the bell rang, so technically this wasn’t on him.

“My dad’s a teacher. I have to stay after until he’s ready to go.”

Of all the kids to stay after, of course it would be her. The one he was certain he couldn’t bullshit. How was she so smart anyway? She must take after her teacher father. “What?” he asked when she just looked at him.

Narrow shoulders shot upward in guileless answer. “Mrs. Hagley is a way better teacher than you.”

“Is she?”

“Mmm hmm. My dad’s a better teacher than you, too.”

“Great. Thanks for that, Kid.”

He began to work on his room, both surprised and a little cheered when she immediately started helping. She picked up a fallen chair, then bent to start picking up blocks. “On Monday, my dad tutors. Mrs. Quinn takes care of me. She’s not even a teacher, but she’s a better teacher than you, too.”

“Great. Thanks for sharing.”

“And Declan, my swim coach. Miss Suzanne, my t-ball coach. They’re better than you, too.”

“Look, I really appreciate your honesty, Kid. Truly. You happen to know someone that’s not better than me?”

“No. But I’m only five. I don’t know that many people.”

Bucky let out a bark of laughter. MJ followed suit.

Maybe the kid wasn’t so bad after all.

They worked in tandem, cleaning up the room for another twenty minutes or so before Sam Wilson tapped lightly on the frame of the open door. “What a day, huh?”

Bucky took a moment to appreciate this man who looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of GQ, stifling a laugh at his own disheveled appearance. Wrinkled shirt, messy hair, the suit jacket barely making it past hour one as a kindergarten teacher, Bucky felt entirely underwhelming at the moment. He subtly tucked his arms around himself to hide the unsightly pit stains this stressful day had induced. “Yeah. You could say that.”

“It gets easier.”

“For him, it won’t,” MJ predicted.

“Michelle,” Sam said firmly.

“Sorry Dad. You taught me to never lie.”

Dad. Bucky’s heart plummeted. The man had a kid. And was probably straight. And really, why did it even matter? Bucky had a job to do and would be gone in a matter of weeks. “She’s yours?”

“Guilty.”

“She’s smart.”

“Guilty,” MJ said with a cheeky smile.

“And humble as the day is long,” Sam said dryly. “C’mon kiddo. We gotta run by the grocery store if we want milk in the morning.” He ruffled her hair and smiled at Bucky. “You coming back tomorrow?”

“I’m back tomorrow. Sorry ‘bout your luck MJ,” he grinned. She grinned back. Yeah, she was okay, this kid. And he’d definitely be back. He had to figure out who Rumlow’s daughter was after all. And MJ was someone he could cross off that list, since her father was standing right in front of him. That left eight other girls. He stared at Sam; encouraged when Sam stared right back. Fuck, were they having a moment? It felt a little like a moment. Maybe he was divorced? Bucky felt only slightly bad for thinking that before reminding himself that nothing could come of this; therefore, he should mentally leave Sam’s potential family intact. “Yeah, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then. See you both,” he added with a quick murmur because he’d sorta forgot MJ was still standing there for a hot minute.

“Yeah. I’ll be right across the hall,” Sam said, rocking back on his heels, the smile that stretched across his face warming Bucky from inside out, gliding over the lonely, hollow, hard to reach places with the promise of hope.

“And I’ll be right here. Teaching kindergarten,” Bucky said inanely.

“Ya’ll are weird,” MJ interjected with a frown as her curious gaze bounced back and forth between them.

“Thanks for your helpful and inappropriate observations, M,” Sam sighed.

“Hey, I’m trying to read the room,” MJ continued in such a serious little voice that Bucky almost snorted.

“Well why don’t you try reading Junie B instead and mind your own,” Sam pointed out.

“You’re the one who said we needed milk.”

Bucky did chuckle at that astute observation, Sam letting out a reluctant snicker as well. “So, I did. I don’t guess I can argue that. Come on then. See you tomorrow, Mr. Barnes.”

“With bells on,” Bucky called after them as they walked away, wincing as he thrust the heel of his palm against his forehead. With bells on? What the actual fuck? MJ’s disappointed look over her shoulder clearly labelled him a disaster. He kinda couldn’t argue there, so he proceeded to salute, mentally deriding the choice because that was even stupider. Or was it ‘more stupid’? Was stupider even a word? Oh gawd, he didn’t know, and he was teaching kindergarten! He bet MJ knew…bet her dad definitely knew. Maybe Sam could tutor him…

He tucked that completely inappropriate thought away to daydream about later, turning around to gather his things.

He returned to the rental house with a cat and a bitch of a bad mood, Nat wrapped up on the couch in a blanket. “How’d it go?” she asked, eyeing the cat. Probably wondering what the hell they were going to do with it. He’d figure that part out later.

He collapsed against the wall for support. “Go away. Leave me alone,” he wailed dramatically.

“That well, huh?”

“You look a little less green.”

“And?”

“You can take over tomorrow.”

“And risk raising suspicion and blowing our cover? Not a chance, James. You’re in it now.”

“Nat.”

“Whining is unattractive, James.”

“They’re horrible!”

“Oh, I know. If it makes you feel better, I just now got to the point where I could hold down a piece of toast and two saltines. Got any entail for me to weed through as I languish here in misery?”

“There’s no way you’re more miserable than me right now,” Bucky huffed, forcing himself away from the wall. He sat the kitten down. “Don’t ask. I don’t know,” he returned when she pointed toward the cat. He handed her a file folder. “Here are the names of the nine girls in the class. And notes on what I managed to learn. The last one, Michelle? I think we can take her off. Her father works at the school.”

Nat nodded. “I’ll do some digging anyway. He could be a stepfather.”

“True,” Bucky nodded. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Where you going?”

“I’m taking a long bath, then I’m going to bed.”

“It’s five o’clock.”

“Fuck off.”

“What about this cat?”

“That cat is Alpine. I stopped by the store on the way home and got everything we need for her. It’s still in the car. I got a vet appointment lined up you’ll need to take her to.”

“Out of who’s pocket? I did not sign up to co-parent a cat with you, Barnes.”

“Just bring her litter box in. The rest is a tomorrow problem. I need to go die, right now.”

“Dramatic much?” Nat shook her head as he left groaning all the way toward the bathroom. She picked up the kitten when it ambled over to the couch. The thing already had a name tag that said ‘Alpine.’ Apparently, Bucky hadn’t been playing around when he went to the pet store. “Okay Girl, help me go through these names, will ya? It’s time to do some social media stalking.”

**********

As much as he didn’t want to, Bucky went back to work the next day, opting for dark jeans and a polo shirt this time. A trio of moms stood outside the classroom waiting for him, each attempting small talk. He wasn’t exactly sure what the teacher version of a badge bunny was, but he was fairly certain this was it, one mom dropping a tube of lipstick, then dramatically picking it up so he could check out her tight-fitting jeans.

Across the hall, Sam unlocked his classroom, Bucky’s heart doing a funny flip when Sam’s gaze flickered his way. Amusement shone from his dark eyes as he wiggled his eyebrows at the array of feminine attention Bucky was getting. Bucky made a face, earning a laugh that left him completely smitten. He watched Sam usher his students through the door, greeting each one by name as if they were all precious in his sight.

With a wistful sigh, he turned back to the moms, focusing on Eleanor Bishop when he realized she was the only one in the group who had a daughter.

He learned she was raising her daughter alone, (a word she said in the breathiest voice Bucky had ever been privy to) and immediately put Kate Bishop at the top of his list.

After finally prying himself away from the flirtatious moms, he started his day by calling roll, placing the children in centers around the room as he walked around and tried to ask leading questions.

“Tyrone is sick,” Tandy said quietly, chewing her lip nervously as if talking to him was the scariest thing in the world for her.

“I’m not sick,” the boy insisted before proceeding to throw up on Bucky’s shoes. Bucky looked at the vomit in horror, dry heaves racking his body at the chunky, foul mess coating the floor and his footwear. Tearing his beleaguered gaze away, he ushered the other children away, barely managing to keep it together as he notified the nurse and the custodian. Once the nurse had collected Tyrone, and the custodian had worked his magic, Bucky hazarded another glance downward.

“MJ watch the class,” he said, his stomach churning as he slipped off his shoes. Why was he surrounded by throw-up lately?

“I’m five!”

“I have faith in you,” he said, as he sprinted for the bathroom to save his shoes, gagging the entire way. He really liked those shoes…besides he couldn’t go barefoot with all those Legos about. He returned to a surprisingly calm classroom. “You might be better at this than me,” he mumbled to MJ.

“No comment,” she shrugged in return, her sass level reminding him a bit too fondly of Nat.

“Do I even want to know how you managed this?”

“No comment.”

“You don’t think the monster heard us, right MJ?” Ned stage-whispered, Peter peering from behind his back. Kate behind Peter’s back. Bucky groaned; thankful he’d be out of dodge before these kid’s therapy bills hit. He frowned at MJ. “Really?”

“It worked, didn’t it? You gonna argue with results?”

“How are you so smart, Kid?”

“You met my dad.”

Bucky hid a smile at that. Yeah…yeah…he’d definitely met her dad.

After working on counting and shapes—Bucky actually a little surprised at how well they did, himself included!—he decided to do some investigative work. “Okay class, circle time. Find a spot on the rug. Criss-cross applesauce,” he said proudly, because yeah, he’d googled that shit. “Spoons in the bowl,” he continued, gesticulating to show the kids how he expected their hands to rest in their laps. MJ arched both brows, mildly impressed. Bucky felt oddly victorious. Once he had everyone’s attention, he plodded on. “Now we’re going to play a game called ‘Who is my Daddy and What Does He Do?’”

“Is your daddy a fireman?” asked a little girl named Kamala who had enthusiasm to spare. Had Bucky ever been that energetic?

“Is he a wrestler. I bet he’s big,” Ned tossed out.

“Is he a football coach?”

“Is he dead?”

Bucky blinked at the last question—Peter, of course. “No. That’s not what I meant-”

“Is he an actor?” Kate asked again. “My mommy says you smoke like an actor.”

Smoke like an…he suddenly realized she probably meant was ‘smokin’, like an actor’ and felt a mixture of flattered, flabbergasted, and frustrated at the assessment.

“You shouldn’t smoke, Mr. Barnes,” Peter said gravely. “You could d-”

“I don’t smoke! And I’m not gonna die!”  He grabbed his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have a headache,” Bucky bit out. These kids could take a perfectly fine day and ruin it.

“It might be a tumor.”

“It’s not!”

“It could be.”

“It’s not a tumor!” he growled. He forced a deep, calming breath as he reminded himself that Peter was five. “It’s not a tumor at all.”

“This game is kinda lame.”

“Thank you for your input, MJ,” Bucky countered after the little girl chimed in. “You can go first. The game is for you to tell who your daddy is and what he does for a job.”

“But you already know that. You met him yesterday and stared at him a whole lot.” She was smiling smugly like she had him all figured out.

“Then it will be easy for you to play.”

“Fine, my daddy is a teacher. His name is Sam.”

“I love Mr. Sam. He’s my most favorite teacher,” Ned said. Bucky couldn’t even be offended by Ned’s judgey eyes because Sam was his favorite teacher, too.

“Good. Ned, you’re next.”

The game went surprisingly well. He felt confident he could mark several kids off his list. He noticed Tandy off to the side, her back turned. Since Tyrone had left sick for the day, she’d grown even more shy and unsociable. He got up and moved to her. “Tandy, your turn.” He reached for her arm, but she jerked away with a little hiss. Before he could inquire further a sharp siren rang through the room. “What’s that?”

“It’s the fire alarm,” MJ returned.

“We’re gonna die!” Peter exclaimed.

“No, we’re not. It’s just a drill,” MJ argued.

“Fire alarm—we gotta move,” Bucky shouted, rounding them up. Though it was probably a test, the most important thing was exiting the building. “Move, move, move!” Getting them out of the room was chaos incarnate, and he had zero doubt he’d failed miserably when they all came rushing out the doors to find the other classes already lined up and waiting safely away from the building. He was a trained survivalist; his father was rolling in his grave in utmost disappointment at the moment.

“How nice of the kindergarten class to finally join us,” Maria Rambeau called out through a fucking bullhorn as she completely shamed him and his class of unruly munchkins. His shoulders slumped; pride completely bruised as he met Sam’s gaze across the way. Sam winced, his smile gently saying, ‘hang in there.’ Bucky was pretty sure the man was perfect. He was also pretty sure something was going to have to change. Until he figured out who Brock Rumlow’s daughter was, he was responsible for the safety and education of these kids. He owed them a lesson plan. He owed them a safe trek out of the building in the event of an actual fire.

As school dismissed for the day, he tried to catch Tandy, following her out to the car, where her mom quickly ushered her in and took off, despite Bucky yelling for her to stop.

He narrowed his eyes, moving her name above Kate’s.

Chapter Text

“Be good, E.” Through the open truck window, Sam fist-bumped his last car rider for the day, telling Elijah he’d see him in the morning before waving the boy and his grandfather away. “Have a good one, Mr. Bradley.” At the squeal of tires in the parking lot behind him, Sam turned in time to see Mr. Barnes literally try to chase a parent down, the navy Honda Accord leaving him in a cloud of dust as it sped away. Damn, Doc R would have words about that, Sam already picturing the precisely worded Remind message Dr. Rambeau was sure to send all the parents tonight about parking lot safety and expectations. Sam idly wondered if the blame could somehow fall on the new kindergarten teacher. Save for the few thirsty moms scoping him out that morning, Mr. Barnes hadn’t managed to make a splash with much of anyone so far. He stifled a laugh as Barnes turned toward the teacher parking lot as if to go, before apparently remembering he had a classroom that needed straightening and locking up and promptly spinning on his heel back toward the building. “He can’t get anything right,” Sam lamented with a rueful shake of his head. That man was a hot mess.

Emphasis on hot.

Also, emphasis on mess.

He moved back to the stairs, where Dr. Rambeau stood with his inquisitive daughter. MJ adored Doc R and never hesitated to ask her about a million questions. She glanced over MJ’s head, meeting his eyes. “Do you know who that parent speeding through my parking lot was?”

“No clue. Think it was one of Barnes’.” He’d feel bad about throwing the man under the bus, but Maria wouldn’t have missed that show either, so he may as well lay it out there.

“Big surprise there,” she groused, looking like she wanted to say a lot more but was holding her tongue with MJ present. Speaking of…

“Hey squirt, could you-”

“Squirt? Really? Aren’t we past this, Daddy?” MJ sniffed like she was five years older than she was, the blunt impact of her sass balanced out by the sweet title she still unconsciously reverted to when she wasn’t thinking about it. She crossed her arms over her chest fully aware that he wanted a minute alone with the principal. Fully intending to make it as hard as possible for him to get it.

Maria Rambeau gave them a soft smile, nodding over to the side playground where her own second-grade daughter Monica was swinging. Though several years older, Monica always welcomed MJ along. “Why don’t you go see what Monica is up to, hmm Michelle?”

MJ hesitated; torn between being privy to the latest gossip or playing with her older, cooler friend.

Though she knew Sam’s daughter was entirely too respectful to ignore the request, Maria still leaned closer, her smile placating. “You know grownup talk is boring anyway,” she cajoled, hoping to make the dismissal easier. MJ’s face scrunched up; golden-brown eyes keen as she shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Fine, but I know what this is about.”

“How you gon’ know what this is about,” Sam protested with a frown.

“’Cuz, I do,” MJ insisted smugly. She opened the gate, picking up speed as she headed for Monica as fast as her little legs would take her.

“She probably does,” Sam muttered in defeat.

“Nothing gets past that one.” Maria gave a wry chuckle as she sized him up. “Me either, for that matter. What’s on your mind Sam?”

 During school hours, she was Dr. Rambeau…or Doc Rambeau…or Dr. R…depending on the situation. But after hours, she was strictly Maria, a trusted, loyal friend. He glanced at his watch, deciding it was officially the end of the workday even though there were still parents, students, and teachers milling about.

He watched James Barnes scurry back inside as if he were on fire, which if that fire drill earlier in the day had been legitimate very well could have been the case. “What do you know about him?” he asked as nonchalantly as possible, as if his libido hadn’t perked up the moment he’d caught sight of the other man in a pair of flattering black jeans. Black jeans and James Barnes—it was a lethal combo.

Anyone that easy on the eyes is probably hell on the heart, common sense warned. Better to leave it alone.

Unfortunately, leaving things alone had ever been Sam’s strong suit.

Maria huffed, not fooled. He didn’t know why he bothered trying to be covert when the woman knew him about as well as anyone could these days, save for his sister Sarah and his best friend Faith. “Besides being a disaster who is completely unqualified for this position? Not much, though I guess he sure ain’t hard to look at.”

“If you’re into that,” Sam shrugged.

“Headstrong, reckless white people with chips on their shoulders and vague hidden pain who look damn good in a pair of jeans? I wouldn’t know,” Maria chirped, because yeah, her own wife was good-natured and cocky, a stoic evasiveness to Carol’s personality reminiscent of the mystery man who had assumed control of the kindergarten class.

“Just say it’s a bad idea.”

“It’s a bad idea.” At Sam’s crestfallen expression, Maria tossed her hands up. “I’m literally telling you what you already know. You just said it yourself. Don’t think I’m gonna baby you into making a bad call.”

Sam pursed his lips, giving it some thought. “It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Maria-”

“The absolute worst. Sam. He’s not even here on a permanent basis. Whenever Mrs. Hagley is back from this suspiciously sudden trip, he’ll be gone. It’s a bad idea.”

“Doesn’t the fact he’s only here temporarily actually mitigate the whole bad idea-ness of it all?” The serious side-eye she tossed his way got his hackles all up. “What? I’m serious!”

“I know you are. Which just makes this even more alarming right now.”

“You’re being unkind. There’s no reason to be this unkind.”

“No, I’m just not saying what you want to hear and now you’re all pouty over it. Look. If it were anyone but you, looking at this as a fling scenario could work; but Sam Wilson, we both know you don’t have a casual bone in your blessed by the gods’ body.”

Somewhat mollified by the unexpected compliment, he flexed his chest a little. “Hey now, I work hard for this chiseled body! Nobody getting credit for it but Sam Wilson.”

“Whatever. My point is, you’ve been divorced for nearly a year and haven’t been on a single date as far as I know. Why you’re suddenly making eyes at that disaster of a man, I have no idea.”

“To be fair, he made eyes at me first.”

“Oh, I know. It’s been two days of nothing but heart eyes whenever he sees you, when he’s not making a mess of everything else that is.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I know everything. I’m a mother and a principal, it’s in both job descriptions. Maybe if he spent less time looking at you and more time controlling his classroom, this would be going better for him.”

“Be nice.”

“Nope, don’t have to. He hasn’t earned it. You know he ended up at the music room when it was library day, right?”

“Kids need more of the arts, right?”

“Tell that to Susan who had to figure out what to do with twenty extra students.”

“Cut the man some slack. It’s only day two.”

“He had to come in early today to paint over some mess he let his kids make on his walls. And don’t get me started on that cat!”

“I saw it. It was a cute cat. Even managed to pull out a smile from MJ and she’s everybody’s hardest critic.”

“Not the point! Look, I get that he came from a high school setting, and that’s a lot different, but it shouldn’t be this hard for an educated instructor to assume this role. Think you’d care a little bit more with MJ being in there.”

“Maybe I like seeing another male grade-school teacher. We’re kinda hard to come by. Besides, he’s growing on MJ. You know she likes it when she gives crap and gets it right back. It challenges her. Say what you want, he’s stubborn. And that right there is an attractive trait.”

“Oh, it is, is it?”

“You tell me. You’re the one who married Carol.”

She let out a discreet hum. “I guess the heart wants what it wants. Or in this case, other body parts want what they want.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Mmm hmm. I see you. I’m just saying, I’m not running an experiment station here. I’m running a school and that madness with the fire drill today? If he doesn’t get a handle on this, I’m going to have to replace him. Understood?”

“What?” Sam asked innocently. “I don’t have a personal stake in this.”

“Yet, you don’t.” She sighed, taking mercy on him. “Look Sam, you know I care about you. And it’s been long enough since the divorce to put yourself out there. I didn’t know Faith well, but I think she’d want that too. Y’all are completely done, right?”

Sam gave a stilted nod. It wasn’t something he talked a lot about, mainly because he simply couldn’t. Yes, Faith had moved across the country. Yes, Faith had signed over sole custody of MJ to Sam. But she was still very much a part of their lives, even if for her own health and happiness she’d had to step aside. Sam adored Faith; and she was no less MJ’s mother even if she wasn’t fully in the picture. They’d found a system that worked, and fortunately MJ seemed to understand and accept it, even though he knew it was sometimes hard not having a feminine presence around.

“I’m just saying, I’m all for you giving this a shot. But just keep in mind what it is,” Maria advised. “Don’t get attached. And don’t let MJ get attached. Though how anyone could get attached to him-”

“Maria.”

“What? He had those kids running out the school like they were truly on fire. Don’t tell me they don’t have fire drills in high school. Hell, they have bomb threats there, them hooligans trying to get out of testing, I know. I got my start in high school, and it was rough. And bringing that cat to the classroom, what the hell was that?”

“We’re back on this, are we?”

 “Thing probably had fleas. And I know it didn’t have a bath. Looked like he picked it up off the side of the damn road. He probably did.”

Sam decided now was not the time to admit he’d seen that same kitten hiding under a shrub the day before Mr. Barnes claimed it as the kindergarten class mascot. “Some would call that heroic. Pet-rescuing…”

“I can’t roll my eyes hard enough to convey what I’m thinking right now, so I won’t.”

“What?”

“You’re thinking with your nether region instead of your brain, that’s what.” Technically Sam was thinking with a bit of both, but he didn’t want to defend himself and risk Maria using the term ‘nether region’ ever again.

“I’m just saying the kitten was cute.”

“Yeah, it was cute. Monica heard about it and now wants another one, as if that demon spawn Carol’s had for a decade ain’t enough cat for this family.”

“That’s why you don’t like him. It’s all over that cat, isn’t it?”

“Hush. I just don’t trust him. Something about all this isn’t adding up. You’re just too distracted by abs and blue eyes to see it.”

“I don’t have to see it. That’s why you’re in charge. And for the record? I think he’s going to surprise you.”

Maria narrowed her eyes. “We’ll see, Sam. We’ll see. But you better take my advice. If you do decide to drop your pants, just don’t drop your guard. There’s something off about all this.”

He groaned, ducking his head, because he absolutely could not meet her gaze after that bit of unasked for guidance. “I can’t believe I tell you anything!”

“What? I’m just looking out for you and my little girl over there. Can’t have either of you getting your hearts broken, now can I? That man looks like he could break hearts and take names for sure.”

“My heart doesn’t have a thing to do with this,” Sam protested. “My guard will stay up. My pants too for that matter.”

Maria’s brows drew together. She tipped her head to the side, her grin both resigned and smug. “At the moment, I’m giving it less than a week.”

“I don’t even know that man! I’m not gonna just hop into bed with him.”

“Not standing out here talking to me, you’re not.”

Sam’s mouth went slack, rapidly blinking as he attempted to process this turn in the conversation. Maria was supposed to be his voice of reason here. “What’s that about? I thought you were completely against it anyway.”

“I never fight battles I’m sure to lose, Sam. Just remember pants down, guard up. And, I reckon you’ll be all right.”

“I’m going home now. Pretending we never had this conversation,” Sam muttered, sidestepping right around her. Maria had been right from the beginning. This had ‘bad idea’ written all over it. He didn’t need the complication of a random hookup, especially when it was MJ’s teacher…even if the man looked as good as James Barnes. “MJ, we gotta roll,” he called, his eyes moving to his whole world swinging on the playground. His sweet little girl would always come first. Pants up, guard up…that’s that, he told himself with quiet determination.

Chapter Text

“Do any of the girls look like Rumlow?” Nat asked as Bucky drove them to the nearest pizza joint. Her virus had abated and now she was starving, something she fully expected Bucky to take care of since he’d stuck her at home with a cat all day. There wasn’t a lot for her to do as she waited for Bucky to give her information, Nat and Alpine stretched out on the couch marathoning The Walking Dead: The Ones Who Live when Bucky got back from work. He was a little jealous, truth be told. His day had sucked, Dr. Rambeau yelling at him through a bull horn, while Nat got to cuddle with a kitten and watch Andrew Lincoln and Danai Gurira all day.

“No, how would I know? None of them look like potential drug runners.”

“Stop being a dumbass. You know what I mean. Dark hair, dark eyes? Sharon has dark eyes too, ya know? Probably runs in the family.”

“No, I don’t know. Don’t wanna know. Just soon forget it.”

“Just answer the question, James.”

He grimaced, pulling up a mental image of each girl in his temporary classroom. “Tandy and Kate both fit, I think. Tandy is blonde, but definitely has the eyes.”

“What’s your gut say?”

“Tandy doesn’t talk much. It’s like, maybe there’s a secret there.” He knew what that was like, being a kid with a world of secrets bearing on his shoulders. She was such a sweet, kind, little thing. He didn’t like to think of her hurting. “And I know her mom heard me calling her today, but that woman didn’t look back. There’s something going on there. What have you managed to find?”

“Kamala is definitely out. From what I could find out about Sam Wilson, he’s been in MJ’s life since the beginning. No reason to suspect he’s not her real father-”

“Did you find anything out about her mother? Sam’s wife or whatever?”

Nat’s gaze narrowed. She angled her body against the passenger side door to get a better look at him. “No.”

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? We need to find the girl’s mother. She’s the one in the most immediate danger from Rumlow here.”

“Which we’ve all but eliminated MJ, so why do we need to know anything about her mother? Unless-”

“Nat.”

“Fucking hell, Barnes, do you have a crush?”

“No.”

“You do!”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know you better than anyone, even Steve.”

Bucky winced because Steve and Nat were kinda sorta a thing but not really. Bucky kinda sorta hated it, though he had no one to blame but himself because he’d introduced the two. Add in the fact that Fury had recruited Steve as a rewardist, and their three paths were forever crossing. “Whatever,” he mumbled because what the hell else could he do? Nat wasn’t exactly wrong, a guardedness to them both that someone as earnest as Steve could never fully comprehend. “Fine. Okay, but you haven’t seen the man.”

“If you compromise this assignment because you have a-”

“I’ve never compromised a case. Never. It always comes first. And I’m not the one all hot and bothered over Carter, our benefactor, here.” He parked, stomping into the restaurant, Nat hot on his heels, complaining because she was sick and the least he could do was slow the fuck down.

“You’re not sick anymore. Really, you’re the reason I’m in this mess to begin with,” he grumbled as he held the door open for her. He was still a fucking gentleman even if Nat knew countless ways to kill him.

“Dad, look! It’s Mr. Barnes!” Bucky squinted at the excited voice, shocked that it was coming from MJ Wilson. Sam looked a little shocked at his daughter’s eagerness too, his smile fading as it moved from Bucky to Natasha, who was standing directly behind him. MJ came running over to greet her teacher.

Taken aback by her enthusiasm, Bucky couldn’t help feeling charmed, a warm contentedness swirling in the pit of his belly. Shit, this kid might actually like him. And double shit, maybe he liked her a little too. “Hey MJ. Mr. Wilson.”

“Mr. B!”

Sam nudged his daughter. “What have I told you about shortening names?”

“But we’re not in school,” MJ argued back, her calculating gaze settling on Natasha. “Who’s that?”

“Hmm?” Bucky asked, distracted by Sam, who looked distracted by Natasha—of course. Bucky tried not to let it bug him. Natasha was stunning. As was Sam. Fuck, he was such a pretty man, with the shiniest eyes, and the most gorgeous eyelashes. Bucky had never thought a pair of eyelashes were gorgeous in his life until Sam Wilson. And that bright smile…though oddly enough, Sam seemed to have lost it somewhere as he glanced Nat’s way. Bucky shook himself, vaguely aware that MJ was looking at him and waiting for an answer. “Who?”

“Her?” MJ pointed at Natasha a tad accusingly. “This lady?”

“Sweetheart, that’s not polite,” Sam instructed with quiet patience.

“Well, you’re wondering too,” MJ said with a stubborn tilt of her head.

“Okay Sass, that’s about enough of that.”

Natasha covered her amusement as her gaze shifted between the trio of faces. When Bucky made no move to answer as Wilson looked between her and Bucky with tight features, and MJ glared as if offended by her mere presence, she took mercy on them all. “I’m his sister.”

“Sister?” Sam found his smile again, holding out his hand. “I wouldn’t have guessed. There’s not really a resemblance.”

“Because I’m adopted,” Natasha tossed back, completely deadpan.

“Oh,” Sam faltered. A surge of amusement filtered through Bucky at Sam’s lost look. For once Sam was the awkward one in their interactions, which felt like a small victory after the complete ass Bucky had made of himself over the last few days. “Right, okay. It’s nice to meet you.”

“This is Natasha,” Bucky intervened. “Nat, meet Mr. Wilson and his daughter MJ.”

“Sam,” Sam insisted, reaching out to take her outstretched hand in a warm, inviting shake. “You can call me Sam. You both can,” he said with a glance over at Bucky.

He almost missed the interaction, because Nat was mouthing ‘Okay, I totally get it,’ at him while Sam wasn’t looking. “Oh…uh…Bucky,” he said giving the man permission to use his first name.

“Seriously?” MJ asked, scrunching her nose.

Bucky met her smirk for smirk. “It’s a nickname. Know anything about those, Michelle?”

“Ew.”

Sam grinned at their banter, noticing the way MJ relaxed around the other teacher. She typically didn’t take to strangers well, but she seemed at ease with both Bucky and his sister. “I teach with Bucky,” Sam explained to Nat.

“Oh, I know. He says you and your daughter have been most helpful.”

“He can use all that he can get,” MJ tossed in, honest to a fault. Judging by her innocent expression, she wasn’t trying to be rude, just truthful.

“Guess who gets line duty tomorrow.”

MJ made a face. “Those kids don’t listen, Mr. B.”

“Tell me about it, Kid.”

Sam’s lips tilted as he watched the interaction, something soft and soothing shifting down his spine. He found a charming grin, elbowing Bucky lightly. “So, you talking me up outside the classroom?” Bucky felt his ears turn red. He was thankful that Sam didn’t wait for him to come up with an appropriate response. “Would you like to join us?”

“No,” Bucky said the same time Natasha said yes. Sam’s brows raised with amusement as Natasha slapped Bucky’s arm and gave him a pointed look. “Oh, uh, yeah. I mean if we’re not imposing.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t mean it,” Sam returned, steering MJ toward a table.

Natasha wiggled her eyebrows as they followed at a short distance, her gaze landing on the toned lines of Sam’s shoulders and back through his stretch-knit short-sleeved henley. Bucky was trying like hell to be respectful, Nat not so much.

“What are you doing?” Bucky hissed at her, as he tried with fleeting success not to ogle Sam’s ass. But there it was, and fuck it was a sight to behold. “Why’d you tell him you were my sister?”

“That man is clearly into you. I didn’t want to blow your chances, Romeo.”

“He’s not…” Bucky faltered, watching as Sam pulled out a chair for his daughter, ruffling her hair like the doting father he was. It was the cutest fucking thing he’d ever seen. “You think?”

“You are hopeless,” Nat sighed. “You’re going to be single forever at this rate.”

“Well, that’s actually the best for everyone.”

“Yeah, no. I don’t accept it.”

“Nat…”

“Come on James. It’s just dinner. Try to let yourself enjoy it.”

They made small talk over drinks and pizza, Sam and MJ regaling them with stories about the town and school as Bucky and Nat provided ambiguous answers to any questions Sam posed. As they finished, Natasha distracted MJ with a block building game on her phone, so Bucky could pull Sam into conversation. Technically he was supposed to be digging for clues, but really, he just wanted to discover everything there was to know about Sam. Still, the job had to come first. As much as those kindergarteners annoyed the piss out of him, he’d walk through fire before one of them got hurt. “I’ve been trying to get to know the parents, but some are avoiding me,” Bucky said, thinking of Tandy. “Do you know them all? With MJ being the same age? Like some of the girls? Tandy? Kate?”

“Not really. MJ tends to be a bit of a lone wolf. The only kids she’s ever wanted over are Ned and Peter.”

“The kid who’s obsessed with death?”

“He lives with his aunt and uncle. Good people. Mr. Parker owns a funeral home.”

“Well, that explains a lot actually.”

“Is that why I saw you chasing cars after school today? Trying to get to know the parents? Admirable, but that’s probably not the way to go about it. Dr. Rambeau will have your head.”

“What else is new?” Bucky sighed, feeling just a smidgeon of defeat. He couldn’t afford to fail this assignment by getting replaced. Not when one of those girls was in danger. “She despises me.”

“She despises disorder. She has a hard job. Trying to keep the kids, parents, and teachers all happy, while also answering to her school board. None of that easy.” His tone was careful and clipped, Bucky picking up on what he wasn’t saying. As a Black woman in her position, Maria Rambeau had a shitload of pressure and expectations that Bucky couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Well, if she did despise me, that would be all on me,” Bucky returned just as carefully, hoping to convey to Sam that he understood he was the problem in this scenario. “I know I’m not exactly knocking this out of the park.”

“Well, you are knocking plenty of things over though,” Sam said with a light chuckle that pulled a smile from Bucky as well.

“Touché.” He sobered as he thought back to the incident in the parking lot. “Yeah, so Tandy’s mom? She just took off. And Tandy, I don’t know.” Bucky hedged, his gut knotting as he thought about the quiet, aloof girl. “You ever just have a bad feeling?”

Sam grimaced. He glanced over at MJ to make sure she wasn’t listening. “More times than I ever wanted. And unfortunately, my gut is usually right. You got anything to back it up?”

“Nah. Just my own gut.” Which, like Sam’s, had rarely led him astray. “She doesn’t seem to respond to anyone but Tyrone.”

“Ty’s a good kid. I know his parents. Don’t know anything about Tandy or her family, I’m afraid.”

“Maybe I’m misreading it. I just don’t understand, I guess. I would think parents would want to meet the person teaching their five-year-old.” It felt a little hypocritical saying it, since technically, he didn’t want any parent getting too invested and blowing his cover.

Sam’s dark eyes narrowed as he considered his words. “Look, I wouldn’t let it bother you. People in small towns can be like that.”

“Like what?”

 “Quiet and reclusive.” His jaw clenched, one finger circling the condensation on his glass of tea. “I guess it makes sense.”

“How so?”

“I guess a lot of people move to a small town to get away from something.” The words struck a chord with Bucky. He’d seen enough in his line of work to know they were true. Sure, you could get lost in a big city, but moving to a small town often was a means for starting over.

“Is that why you’re here?” Bucky prodded gently, aware it was invasive and out of line, but suddenly struck by the notion that this beautiful man might be trying to escape something painful.

“Me? Nah, I just like Oregon.” Sam shrugged as he shifted the topic, his good-natured smile firmly in place. “I mean, have you seen this brewpub scene? Come on now.”

“I haven’t had a chance to check it out.”

“We’ll have to remedy that,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair as he gave Bucky a relaxed onceover.

“Name the time and place, Sweetheart,” Bucky returned brashly, veiled innuendo wrapped in his husky tone as his gaze locked with Sam’s. His brain screamed that getting involved was a bad idea, but his heart was defenseless against the strength of Sam’s smile.

Sam ducked his head, both flirty and shy. He huffed a breath before boldly meeting Bucky’s brazen gaze through the sweep of those amazing lashes. “All right then. Maybe I will.”

Definitely divorced.

Definitely not straight.

Bucky tried not to think about how everything Sam knew about him was a fucking lie. Sam, so authentic, so sincere. Would Sam ever forgive him for a foundation begun on lies? And why the hell was Bucky even wondering that, when they’d only known each other two days? His job required travelling all over the country. Never staying in one place too long. Never being known by anyone. But oh, how Bucky wanted to know and be known by this man. “I…well, I’m only here until the real teacher gets back,” Bucky said quietly, hoping to nip the flirtation in the bud.

“So, you’re here but you have no intention of staying? You’re like what? A travelling substitute teacher?”

“Something like that,” Bucky said with a forced laugh, hoping Sam didn’t dig too deeply into that load of manure. “I’m still looking for my place, I guess you could say.”

Sam nodded as he digested that bit of information. “How long you been teaching kindergarten?”

“It’s my second day.”

Sam threw his head back with a chuckle. “No offense, but I can tell.”

“Offense,” Bucky tossed back.

“How’re you gonna take offense to that? Those kids running out like little demons today.”

“Well, it fits. They are little demons,” Bucky said.

“I thought Dr. Rambeau was gonna drag you to her office by your damn ear. You’re gonna hafta work on that. She don’t play when it comes to those drills. And I need my daughter out of there as soon as possible in case of a real drill.”

“I’m sorry, Sam.” Bucky blew out a breath, chastened. He was responsible for MJ’s safety…for all of those kids’ safety. He failed today. He didn’t like that. “Maybe you could give me some pointers,” Bucky said in a low voice. He didn’t mean for it to sound suggestive, but damn if it didn’t. To his surprise, Sam seemed into it.

Sam’s voice dipped low in return. “Yeah, maybe I could.” Fuck, they were back to being flirty, their eyes locked on one another, heated silence settling between them that was unfortunately broken by their server returning. “Will that be one check or two?” she asked in a nasal voice that cut through Bucky’s yearning.

“One,” he said at the same time, Sam said “two.”

Sam smiled. “You don’t gotta do that. The only thing worse than a teacher’s salary is a sub’s.”

“Oh, I wasn’t gonna. I was totally gonna let you get ‘em both,” Bucky quipped back, taking the check, nonetheless. He watched Sam’s head dip in delight, thinking the man 100 percent deserved some good old-fashioned wooing. Not that Bucky would be here long enough to do it…not that he would probably be that good at it anyway. Still though…he pulled the thought in, tucking it close to his heart, wishing he could woo the hell out of that man.

If only.

On the drive back, Natasha eyed him like the cat who got the canary. “What?”

“I think you scored, Barnes.”

“I didn’t…” he sputtered. “There was no scoring.”

“Yet.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What’s your problem, James? You like him. And I’m telling you right now, he likes you too. Did you find out the story about MJ’s mother?”

“No. How the hell am I supposed to slip that into casual conversation?”

“Easy. Are you single? Are you bisexual? Wanna come over to my place? I’ll send my sister away.”

“Well, he is single. I know that much. He’s not the kind of guy to get flirty if he’s taken.”

“So, there was flirting. Knew it!”

“Just stop. It’s not like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it can’t be.”

“Sure, it can. There’s major chemistry there. I could feel it all the way at my end of the table. Wanna bet MJ is already picking out what she’s gonna call you after the wedding, Papa?”

“No, she’s not. Shut up. I wasn’t flirting. I was just trying to get entail because he knows the kids and the school.”

“Trying to get tail, you mean.”

“I fucking hate everything about you, right now.”

“Sure, ya do. C’mon, James. I’m just having fun.”

“Well stop. Nothing about this is fun.” He’d met the man of his dreams, when he didn’t even know he had dreams to begin with. And it was all based on a fucking lie sure to blow up in his face the second Sam Wilson learned that his daughter was in a classroom with a fake teacher. It was one thing to lie to Sam, a whole other to bring MJ into this shit. Bucky wasn’t a father, but he couldn’t imagine Sam ever forgiving a deception like that. “I’m leaving as soon as this is over. So, just fucking drop it, okay?”

Natasha tilted her head at his waspish tone, her face softening as if she understood. Perhaps she did. Like him, she’d never been allowed to hope for anything. “James.”

“No Natalia,” he growled, resorting to the code name she’d used on the first assignment they’d ever worked together. It was both an endearment and a warning. “I shouldn’t even be here. Lying to him like this. It shouldn’t be me. You should be in that classroom. You’d be a lot better at it. You should be the one reading books about mouses and cookies.”

“Mice and cookies.”

“See!”

She frowned at his dejected expression. “It’s only for a few more days.”

“If I don’t get myself fired you mean. I suck ass at this. They’re pushing me around.”

“Who?”

“The kids. I hate being bad at shit. And I’m really bad at this. They’re walking all over me. Sam’s the nicest guy on earth and even he thinks I suck.”

“He said that?”

“He didn’t have to. It’s pretty obvious to anyone bothering to pay attention.”

“And you sure don’t want to look bad in front of Sam.”

“I don’t want to put those kids at risk.” When she gave him an unimpressed stare, he relented. “And fine. I don’t want to look bad in front of Sam either. There, happy?”

“Those kids are picking up on your anxiety. I know your childhood basically sucked. Join the club. But I think your father probably taught you one thing really well. What was it?”

Bucky thought for a moment. “No fear.”

“Exactly,” Natasha agreed with a nod. “No fear.”

Chapter Text

“No prisoners. No mercy.” Bucky marched into the kitchen like he was going into battle, chin up, shoulders back, game face firmly on even though he hadn’t left the rental house yet.

“Relax Rambo, they’re five.” Nat handed him a Stanley full of coffee. She wasn’t exactly the domestic sort, but she and Bucky had settled into a pretty good rhythm over the last few days. “This isn’t Cobra Kai.”

“You’re watching that today, aren’t you?” he asked, trying not to pout as he grabbed the lesson plan he’d worked into the wee hours of the morning perfecting from the table.

“Alpine and I will be diligently going over your notes and checking out Facebook in hopes of narrowing our pool down. If Netflix happens to be on at the same time…” she gave a helpless shrug as if she weren’t getting a glorified vacation out of this mess while he chased a bunch of hellions around all day. She pointed at the cord around his neck. “Fuck Barnes. Is that a whistle? What are you going to do to those kids today?”

“Like I said, no prisoners, no mercy,” he shrugged. “It’s time to show them who’s boss.”

He arrived at Astoria Academy with an improved outlook and an actual strategy, blowing that whistle as soon as the classroom door closed to get their attention. At first, he thought it might be overkill, until he noted how they immediately quietened, eyes wide and mouths shut as they stood in frozen awe of him. He blew it again for good measure.

“That hurts my ears,” Ned said in a loud whisper, too shocked to be scared.

“You’ll get used to it,” Bucky said firmly, holding the whistle away from his chest for the kids to get a better look. “See this whistle? Hear this whistle? This whistle is our friend and will help us keep order. Order will help us stay safe. When I blow this whistle, it’s like playing freeze dance. You stop what you’re doing. And you listen. Any questions?”

MJ immediately raised her hand. Of course. He arched a brow at his biggest critic. “Yes MJ?”

“Are you sure you’re a teacher?”

“Are you sure you’re five?” He tossed right back.

When her immediate grin was the only rebuttal, he felt the thrill of victory, her sweet smile a small treasure. “Now we’re going to practice. When I count to three, you can dance. You can sing. You can jump. Whatever you want. But when I blow this whistle, you stop. Immediately. You stop. You freeze. You listen. Understand? Nod that you understand.” He glanced around the room, waiting for a nod from each one of his students before continuing. “One, two, three, go! That’s it. Go wild—get it all out.” He watched them twirl, hop, holler, and in the case of a kid named Eugene, actually bark. Then he blew the whistle. Half the class stopped. Half required an additional, much longer whistle. “Good,” he nodded. But we can do better.” He kept practicing with them, adding additional sounds with different meanings.

By mid-morning, he had them lined up and ready to go to their special of the day in seconds.

“Mr. Barnes, your face is doing something strange,” Kate announced boldly.

He stared at her in confusion before it dawned on him that he was smiling, something they probably hadn’t known he was even capable of. He felt a rush of shame for having sucked so much joy out of their school day, promising himself that while he was there, he would be better. Get the information he needed, without sacrificing their education or their happiness. “Because I’m proud. I’m smiling because I’m happy and I’m proud,” he announced, staring around the room. Everybody’s doing great.” Each child beamed back at the praise, even Tandy, her dark eyes wide and hopeful. When MJ gave him a thumbs up, he decided then and there they deserved a reward and texted Nat. Later that day, after practicing letters and numbers, they worked on fire drill safety. They still took too long exiting the building, but at least they did it in an orderly manner. Bucky called that progress. “Okay, you’re working hard. And I’m proud of you,” he announced as they returned to the classroom. “So, I have a surprise for you.” He opened the door, where Nat stood waiting with Alpine. “This is my…sister…” he coughed a little at the lie. “And she’s brought your class pet to visit,” he said over the chorus of excited little kid voices. “Line up and remember one at a time, so she doesn’t get scared.”

“Your sister or Alpine?” MJ jabbed.

“Both,” Nat returned with a wink that made MJ giggle. Nat turned to Bucky, angling her head toward the eager but respectful line of kindergartners. Her grin was cheeky. “Not bad, Brother.”

No mercy, he mouthed back, which felt a little ridiculous since his idea of no mercy apparently involved bringing a kitten to the classroom, but whatever.

The next day, brought more of the whistle, more structure and discipline as he established and maintained control of his classroom. They stretched, they exercised, they chanted children’s songs as he worked to focus their abundant energy on healthy outlets. Noting Peter falling behind during a morning jog, he hauled the out of breath boy up so they could catch the others. “If we get too tired, we can’t breathe and we will die,” he said pitifully as he clung to Bucky.

Instead of ignoring or glazing over his concerns, Bucky decided to start addressing them in as reasonable a way as possible. “That’s why we gotta be good to our bodies,” he countered patiently, mentally counting to five as he thought it through. “We treat our body with kindness. Give it good food, like fruits and vegetables. Drink water. Go to sleep when we should. That helps us be healthy and live longer.”

Peter frowned at him, all brown eyes and confusion. “If we get in a car crash, we will die.”

“If we drive safely, wear our seatbelts, and follow all the rules, maybe we won’t get in a crash.”

“If an asteroid hits the earth, we will die.”

“Peter, do you even know what an asteroid is?”

“No…”

“Then why are you worried about it?”

“Because I don’t wanna die,” he whispered, tears glittering in his desperate gaze.

“Me either,” Bucky admitted. “So, let’s try to be as safe and as healthy as possible. You and me. Deal?”

When Peter responded with a wobbly smile and a hesitant nod, Bucky blew out a breath. Another small victory for his treasure box.

Later that day, he paired them into groups for a nature hunt, making sure that Tandy and Tyrone were together. As were MJ, Peter, and Ned. “If a bee stings us and we’re allergic, we will die,” he heard a small voice declare.

Bucky counted to five. Then reacted. “Are you allergic to bees, Peter?”

“No.”

“Then why worry about it?”

Peter cutely scrunched his face up. “I like worrying.”

“Worry about finding this leaf,” MJ countered, nudging him forward. “I wanna win.”

“It’s not a contest,” Bucky returned.

“Sure,” MJ returned, clearly skeptical.

“What do we get if we win?” Kate perked up.

“Nothing, you don’t get…just find your leaf, and rocks, and flowers and put them in the sack,” Bucky growled with a frown at MJ. “Stop stirring them up,” he whispered.

“Got’em all looking for leaves, didn’t I?”

“Great, except there isn’t a prize,” he hissed back.

“That sounds like a you problem, Mr. B.”

That girl was slightly evil. He kinda adored her.

Afterwards, he practiced the fire drill with them again, smiling when they made an even better time. The next time Dr. Rambeau pulled out that bullhorn, he was gonna be effing ready.

Day five was reckoning day, Dr. Rambeau enacting a surprise drill that had them putting what they’d been practicing into action. They exited the school in an efficient, organized manner. They weren’t the first class outside and lined up, but they weren’t the last either. When Dr. Rambeau nodded in appreciation at the effort, Bucky did a little jig inside. When he glanced across the courtyard to find Sam smiling once again, this time with soft admiration instead of sympathy, that jig turned into a freaking Argentine tango, Bucky’s gut twisting with a potent combination of longing, hope, and white-hot desire.

As the day ended, he emitted a defeated sigh when Tandy and her mother once again managed to evade him. Nat had eliminated Kamala Khan, Cassie Lang, Betty Brant, and MJ Wilson—since they knew her dad personally--as Rumlow’s potential daughter, but neither of them had gotten any further information about Tandy Bowen, Bucky’s most likely candidate. “Can I wait with you?” MJ asked, following him back to his classroom. “I already asked my dad. He said it was fine as long as you didn’t mind. He has to do some work before we can leave.”

“Sure thing, Kid.” Bucky answered, humbled she’d chosen him when her dad and Dr. Rambeau were also options. “Hey. You alright?” he asked, noticing not for the first time that she was unusually subdued.

She glanced up in surprise. “Yeah, why?”

“You haven’t been mean to me all day. It’s kinda weirding me out.”

“Well, you didn’t give me a lot to work with,” she shrugged with a hesitant grin. “You might be getting good at this.”

“I’ll be sure to go back to being mediocre, so our dynamic doesn’t suffer.”

“Mediocre is being generous, dontcha think?”

“That’s the MJ I’ve come to know and tolerate. Hey, how do you know such big words anyway?”

“My dad is a genius. So’s my mom.”

He pushed open the door, seizing the opportunity. “Your mom. Hope I get to meet her soon.” Also hope she’s completely out of Sam’s heart. Bucky sent the plea to whatever force might be willing to listen to a man who was mostly unworthy of any favor. He immediately felt guilty for it, since he could never be anything good for the other man. He bit back a melancholy sigh. This pining was distracting and debilitating…not to mention, completely foreign to him.

“You won’t,” MJ shrugged. “She moved away for a job. She still loves me though, and we talk a whole lot. But she won’t be here again until Thanksgiving or Christmas probably. And I guess you’ll be gone by then.”

“Yeah probably,” he allowed, his time in her life—in Sam’s life—fleeting the closer they came to finding Rumlow’s daughter. Neither of them would want him around once the truth came out, not that it mattered, the idea of roots preposterous to a rolling tumbleweed like Bucky. “Sounds like your mom and dad get along great though.”

“They’re best friends even though they’re divorced,” she answered, reaching up to rub her forehead. “Can I sit on the reading beanbag?”

“Yeah,” he answered, pensive eyes sweeping over her, MJ’s usual sparkle muted. “You sure you’re feeling alright?”

“My head hurts a little,” she moped as she made her way over to the green leather beanbag in the reading center. He watched her plop down and close her eyes instead of getting a book.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he said with a troubled frown. He began to push in chairs and clean up toys, reminded of that first day’s utter chaos she had helped him straighten, offering snarky commentary as she worked. Fifteen minutes in and the silence was stifling, his gut telling him something wasn’t right. He approached her slowly, crouching down to whisper her name. She barely opened her eyes, looking up at him through hooded slits. “I’m gonna feel your forehead, okay?”

She let out a little moan but didn’t protest when he reached out to place his wrist on her brow. His heart crashed to the pit of his belly. “MJ, you’re burning up.”

“I don’t feel so good, Mr. B.” Tears leaked out of her eyes. “My throat hurts really bad.”

“Okay, okay. You stay right here while I get your father-”

“Don’t leave me here by myself. Please.” Her whisper was vulnerable and desperate, Bucky’s insides twisting in despair at the wrenching plea.

“Hey now, I won’t leave you. We’ll go find him together, all right? Can you walk?”

“No,” she sniffled, her shoulders shaking with broken sobs. “I want my dad. Take me to my daddy.” When she held her arms out in distress, Bucky immediately answered, lifting her up and holding her close. Her heated forehead rested against his neck as he dashed out of the room and across the hall, loudly calling for Sam on the way.

Sam threw his door open. “What’s wrong?” he asked with alarm, his eyes widening when he saw Bucky carrying MJ. He immediately reached for his daughter, gathering her close when Bucky gently handed her over like precious cargo.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m sorry.” Bucky ran a shaky hand through his hair, thinking of all the ways he’d failed her. He’d noticed she’d seemed off most of the day, but instead of pursuing it, he’d shrugged it off. Had she been suffering in agony all this time, while he didn’t do shit to help her? “I swear, I didn’t know. She didn’t seem herself, but I just thought she was distracted or tired or something. But she’s burning up and saying her throat hurts. She just got this bad a few minutes ago. It seemed to come out of nowhere.”

“It usually does.” Sam pressed his lips to MJ’s forehead. “Oh, you’re burning up, Baby Girl. Let’s get you to the walk-in, yeah?” She tucked in close to her father, her little body shaking as she sniffled against him. “We’ll get you feeling better, Sweetheart.”

“I swear, Sam, I didn’t know anything was wrong.”

Sam’s voice was steady and grave, his eyes shining with understanding. “Hey, it’s all right, Bucky. I mean it. Relax. You aren’t a mind reader.”

“I knew she wasn’t her usual self.”

“I just talked to her what? 20, 30 minutes ago? I didn’t notice anything either. Not your fault.” Sam’s tone was firm, but his smile was gentle. “Probably same thing that got Tyrone down and now he’s fine. Some 24-hour bug that has to run its course, and then she’ll be right as rain.”

Bucky nodded, even as he wrang his hands in anxiety, wanting so desperately to fix everything for this sweet girl and her kind, beautiful father. “You…you take her. I’ll finish up here for you.” He glanced at Sam’s room, which was still in disarray. “Whatever you need.”

“Nah. It’s Friday. I can come early on Monday and take care of things. You don’t hafta-”

“Please Sam. Let me do something. Let me help.”

Sam’s breath caught at his sincerity. He gave a careful nod, holding MJ a little tighter. “There are three worksheets on the table. Can you make twenty-one copies of each?” He moved into the classroom to grab his keys and phone as he talked. “Then the one with all the shapes? I need those cut out. You can just leave each shape in a pile on the table beside the other pages.”

“Got it.”

“Thanks Bucky.” On his way out, he stopped, meeting Bucky’s worried gaze with an earnest one. “She’ll be all right. I promise. This little girl is tough as nails like her mom.”

Bucky watched the door close behind them. Feeling hopeless and helpless, he tried to keep himself busy. He went to the office to make the copies, then came back and cut the shapes out for Sam before straightening the room. After completing the task, he went back to his own room, finishing where he left off. He grabbed Clorox wipes and disinfected all the toys and surfaces to head off anyone catching what MJ had.

With a frown he realized that if MJ was sick, Sam had definitely been exposed. What if Sam got sick, too? With that thought in mind, he went back to Sam’s room and began diligently wiping everything down, wanting to protect Sam’s students as well.

That’s how Dr. Rambeau found him as she was doing her final sweep of the school for the day. “MJ’s sick,” he said, a little out of breath as he scrubbed at the handles of Sam’s desk drawers. “I already wiped down my room, but figured I better wipe down Sam’s room, too.”

“That’s very thoughtful. And surprisingly thorough.” She angled her head, incredulous as she studied him. “Hmm. Come to think of it, MJ was around Monica this morning.”

“Shit. I mean shoot,” Bucky rushed, wincing as the bad word escaped. “Sorry! We’re gonna need more Clorox wipes. We better wipe her room down, too. Should we notify her teacher-”

Maria bit back a wayward smile, holding up a hand to halt the flow of words. “Mr. Barnes, I think we’re done for the day.”

“But-”

“You can’t fix everything, but I got to admit, it means a lot that you want to. Look, our custodians do a great job around here. But with kids, germs are everywhere. You can only do what you can do. And it looks like you’ve done a lot.” She was certainly surprised, maybe even a little impressed, not that she was ever admitting to it. “I know these kids are a much smaller version of the ones you’re used to—coming from a high school setting and all—but they’re resilient. Plus, we got a weekend here. Two extra days to chase the germs away. It’s gonna be fine. Okay?”

“I…yeah…okay.” Bucky gave a somber nod but couldn’t quieten the worry in the pit of his stomach. He thought about MJ all the way back to the rental house, fretful and unsure of how to proceed. He had the numbers of all the parents for his classroom, but would it be overstepping to text Sam?

Distracted, he entered the rental house, calling for Natasha.

“You’re late,” Natasha said as she exited her room, her cheeks flushed.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

He eyed her suspiciously.

“What? Sharon Carter called for an update on the situation. So, I gave her an update.”

Bucky took one look at her glowing eyes and groaned. “Oh fuck. Don’t tell me you were in there sexting her or something.”

“I wasn’t in there sexting her,” Nat scoffed before giving him the wickedest grin she could muster. “What we just did goes way beyond that-”

“I will throw myself into the nearest lake if you give me details right now.”

“Don’t lie. You want details.”

“Do not! Bloody hell, Romanov, show some restraint. We’re on her payroll.”

“Oh, please! You’re totally hot for teacher. When it comes to professionalism, you don’t have a leg to stand on here, Barnes.”

“I am not hot for teacher.”

“You’re gonna burn Astoria, Oregon to the ground if the looks you keep giving Sam Wilson get any more heated.”

“I don’t have time for this. Did you get anything from the information I gave you?”

“Enough to officially eliminate Kate.”

“Good. Good. Hey,” he shuffled his feet, still thinking about MJ. He needed advice and Nat was there. “So, uh, opinion.”

“This oughta be good.”

“This oughta be good,” he mimicked in annoyance. “You gonna help me or what?”

“I don’t know. You won’t quit bitching long enough to tell me what’s wrong.”

He huffed; expression pinched. “If one of my kids is sick, you think it’d be pushy to text her dad for an update?”

“Your kids?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Of course, it’s not pushy. If anything, it’s really kindhearted. Which one?”

“MJ got sick at the end of the day. Sam was taking her to the doctor. I don’t want to bother him.”

“You caring about his daughter isn’t going to bother him, James. It’d probably mean a lot to him. And now I’m worried too and need to know. That kid leaves an impression.”

“She’s pretty freakin’ amazing as far as kids go.” Nat blinked at him but didn’t dare comment on that complete 180.

Bucky escaped to his room, where he fretted over the whole thing for a good two hours before finally saying fuck it. Technically he was MJ’s teacher—fake or not—and she’d gotten sick on his watch.

Hey Sam—this is Bucky. Don’t want to bug you. Just worried about MJ. Can you let me know what the doctor says? Please.

He stared at the message a long moment before hitting send. To his relief, a reply came back within minutes.

Positive for strep. She should perk right up once we start the antibiotic. On my way to get it now.

“Thank fuck,” Bucky said aloud, quickly typing his response. He started with an emoji, before deciding it looked stupid and back spacing. He settled for words instead, keeping the message short and sweet though it sure didn’t feel like enough. Let me know if you need anything.

We should be good. But thanks Bucky. For caring. For everything. Another message came right after. Means a lot to MJ. Means a lot to me too.

Anything for you Sam, he responded, hitting send before he could overthink it.

Bucky placed his phone against his heart, wishing he could hold Sam instead.

Chapter Text

“Look Mr. Barnes, I think I know what this is about.”

Highly unlikely. Bucky studied Melissa Bowen in rigid silence, noting the tightness around her eyes and the absent-minded way she rubbed her forearm as she shifted in the chair across from him. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, crossing them again as she avoided eye contact with him to watch the door instead.

Ready to make a quick exit, like a woman who had been running for years.

Bingo, he thought. I got her.

With the realization came sinking dread. He wished Natasha were here to handle this. Though sharp as the utility knife his paranoid father had gifted him on his fourth birthday, Nat also had a compassionate delicacy that made her ideal for breaking unwelcome news.

“I really should go check on Tandy.” Melissa leaned forward as if to escape.

“Please Ms. Bowen, this is important. I just need a few minutes.” Bucky held out a placating hand, careful to keep his movements small and simple. “She is fine with Mr. Wilson. His daughter MJ is in our class. Do you know MJ? Michelle? They’re right across the hall, playing together.” Bucky was thankful as fuck for Sam Wilson, who hadn’t batted a singular spectacular eyelash when Bucky ushered Tandy over for a visit while Bucky met privately with her mother. He was still shocked that the woman had finally answered one of his texts, agreeing to meet after school. A decision she clearly regretted if her restlessness was any indication. “I think the discussion we need to have is best left out of Tandy’s ear shot.”

Melissa nodded numbly, scraping a hand through long, straight blonde locks so reminiscent of Tandy’s that Bucky felt his heart squeeze. It had only been a week, but somehow every single one of these kids mattered to Bucky. “This really is about what I think it is then,” Melissa mumbled, shoulders sagging in defeat.

Used to playing his cards close to the vest, Bucky gave nothing away. There was no logical way for Melissa to surmise he had news on her abusive ex—so what discussion did she think they were having? Squinting, he allowed his intuition to lead, his abdomen knotting with unease. “Maybe we should start with what you think this is about.”

She pursed her lips, staring over his shoulder at the bulletin board where he’d hung the self-portraits the class had drawn in art class that Monday morning. “Look,” she said, tone halting as if piecing together each word. “I know things have been rough lately. But they’re going to get better. My husband just started a new job and things have been stressful.”

Husband? Nat hadn’t been able to discover much about Tandy, her parents non-existent on social media. Until this moment, he hadn’t even known there was a father to speak of, the girl volunteering nothing about her personal life and Melissa Bowen the only contact on her medical form. He nodded, not sure what else to do, as his brain rushed to categorize this latest information. Just because there was a man in the picture didn’t disqualify Brock Rumlow as Tandy’s biological father. But this did cast doubt on the case he’d built for Tandy based solely on her closed-off nature, which now might have another explanation.

Bucky pushed all thoughts of Rumlow aside for the moment, focusing on Melissa. He took a steadying breath, realizing it wasn’t hard to speak earnestly when he cared this much. “I’m concerned about Tandy. She’s so quiet and withdrawn. Not just in my classroom. But in her specials. On the playground. The cafeteria.”

“Nathan and I…” she hesitated. Nathan Bowen. He filed the name away to give to Natasha later. “I know we’ve been fighting a lot. And I’m sure Tandy has heard some of it. I try to keep that from her, but sometimes…” Her leg bounced up and down, apprehension lancing through him as he read every single thing she wasn’t saying in her anxious body language. “Look, I know it gets out of hand, okay? But we’re getting it under control. He has some anger issues. He had a rough childhood, and…” she clenched her jaw, abruptly shifting from rueful to defensive. “I don’t have to explain this to you. I shouldn’t have to explain it to you. This is none of your business.”

The fact that it had all spilled out unprompted told Bucky that she needed to tell it to someone. Did she have anyone else to confide in? “Mrs. Bowen,” he said, projecting calm assurance as he pushed back looming panic. Always keep a cool head, Son. Funny that his father’s deeply ingrained rules would come back now of all times, but the old man hadn’t been wrong about everything. Just an asshole. “I can get someone. I can get Dr. Rambeau-”

“I don’t want you to get someone! Gawd,” she snapped, venom dripping with every syllable. “You’re the one who kept texting me, insisting on this meeting! Who even are you? Mrs. Hagley never bothered me like this. When is she coming back?”

Bucky took a deep breath, centering himself as he kept his emotions in check. “You say it doesn’t concern me, but Tandy does concern me. She is my student. And she is a child. And it is every adult’s responsibility to protect children. I care about her. If he’s hurting her-”

“No. No.” She gave a vigorous shake of her head, her pitch raising. Hazel eyes grew frantic, venom replaced by desperation. “He loves his daughter. Please don’t misunderstand this. I would never stay if he hurt her. He’s never laid a finger on her. He never would. You have to believe me.”

“It’s not okay for him to lay a finger on you either, Mrs. Bowen,” Bucky interjected, soft but firm.

“I know that. And he hasn’t,” she said too quickly for Bucky to fully believe. “He’s not like that. He lost his job and things have been tense, but they’re better now. He’s got a new job. There’s not a need to report anything. He wouldn’t hurt us. He hasn’t hurt her. Or me. It was just a lot of yelling.”

Buckly squeezed his hands at his sides, his shoulders curling forward, his stomach tight, a feeling he could only describe as powerlessness pinning him down. He wasn’t equipped to handle this shit. He needed Nat, or Dr. Rambeau, or fuck…he needed Sam. Intuitively, he knew Sam would have the right words—the ones that would make all the difference. Sam knew how to shelter, how to care…was good and sincere, nothing less than genuine. Bucky had never felt more like a fraud in his life, jumping from town to town, never being real with anyone in his sad, solitary, utterly lonely, fucked up life. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. He might be the last person who needed to handle this, but he was also the only person who could handle this. Melissa Bowen was here now. The next person might not get this far. He didn’t have proof, but he did have a troubled little girl with big brown eyes who had lost her voice. If he didn’t speak for Tandy now, who would? “I’m sorry it’s me. That I’m here. And Mrs. Hagley isn’t. I don’t know her, but I know she’d be better at this.”

Melissa stopped her ranting to gape at him in uncertainty. “What?”

He dropped his chin to his chest, his throat thick as he forced the words through. “I got nothing. I should have something, right? I mean, I’m sitting here, thinking about my mother. What I wish someone had told her. Had told my sister. Told me in the worst of it. And I should be able to like…” he leaned back, regret twisting his features. “I should be able to say that, right? But I was never supposed to talk about it, so I didn’t. And I still don’t. And here we are. And I’m no good at this.”

“There is no this,” she said softly.

“There’s a this, whether you’re telling me the whole truth or not. Because hand to God, if you think you’re shielding Tandy, you’re wrong. Do you know she’s scared of me? Of all the boys in this class? Except for Tyrone. Somehow, he knows how to reach her. Somehow, he makes her feel safe. He’s the only one here who does.”

“That’s…that’s…that can’t be true. That isn’t true.”

“Mrs. Bowen, do you think this is a conversation I want to be having? Do you think I brought you here to lie to you? Your daughter is terrified. Nine times out of ten when I come near her, she flinches. Today when I asked who wanted me to read a story, Tyrone asked for The Grouchy Ladybug because it’s Tandy’s favorite. She can’t tell me that though, so he tells me for her.”

“Oh gawd.” Melissa crumbled, placing a shaking hand over her mouth as she processed the information, abject misery shadowing her features as she stayed silent for a long minute. “We…I…um…I used to work with Ty’s mother. They…they played together when they were little.” She swallowed hard. “Well, littler, I guess. They’re still little. She’s still so little. My little love. My sweet girl.” Moisture glistened a stare that turned distant. “Do you know I named her Tandy because it was a mix of taffy and candy? I found out I was pregnant at the beach, and there was this place that sold the best saltwater taffy.” She shook her head, lost to the memory. Bucky waited in silence, letting her work it through. “We were so happy then. For a little while, we were happy. And things were good. And now you’re telling me..." she trailed off, her expression lost and weary.

“You said you used to work with Tyrone’s mother. You don’t anymore?”

She shook her head curtly, as her gaze trailed back to the bulletin board to study the various drawings. “I don’t work anywhere. Nathan thought it would be a good idea for me to quit. He wanted me home more. Said it would be good for Tandy. But then being the sole provider just stressed him out more.”

Bucky nodded along, recognizing an isolation tactic when he saw it. His own father had moved his entire family to the wilderness to avoid answering to anyone.

 She gulped, raising an unsteady finger toward the drawings. “Her’s is the one in the middle.”

“They’re self-portraits,” he answered with a small nod toward the work. He didn’t like to boast, and he definitely wasn’t an expert, but he felt confident that he had a class full of artists. He glanced at where she was pointing. Since the names were on the back, he could only guess who had drawn what, but the center picture of a round face surrounded by long yellow hair seemed like a safe bet. “I’m not sure.”

“I am. I’d know her drawing anywhere,” she continued, sounding strained. “She’s so good. Don’t you think?”

“Tandy is exceptional. She…she’s very smart.”

“She isn’t smiling. Why didn’t she draw herself smiling?” She brought her palms up to press against her cheeks, tears now spilling forth as she answered her own question. “She didn’t draw herself smiling because she’s not happy. It’s right there, isn’t it? Look, look at all the others. She’s the only one…the only one who looks sad.” Melissa covered her face with both hands, her chest caving. “She…she’s hurting and scared. And I’m not keeping a damned thing from her. And I don’t know what to do. He’s angry all the time! I don’t know…” Her shoulders heaved, a strangled sob escaping along with a wealth of bitterness. “He made me quit my job. And now he controls all the finances. I’m not even on the checking account. I can’t even write a damn check. I have to ask him for every single thing I need. Lunch money, T-shirt money, school supplies, band-aids, ice cream, it all goes through him. What do I do? What am I gonna do? I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know anyone in this stupid town he made me move to.”

He kept his voice gentle to combat the hysteria edging her own, holding out the tissues Mrs. Hagley seemed to have an endless supply of. “There’s no one you know? Anyone from your old job?”

“Maybe someone would help, but like I’m going to drag someone I barely know into the middle of my mess?” She straightened, her brow furrowing as she thought it through. “My mom has been trying to get me to come home since Tandy was a baby. She would help me. We would be safe and happy there, but I can’t get to her because I don’t have the money for the gas or the hotel room the trip would take. And if I asked her to wire me some, I know he’d find out. He has a way of finding out everything. He’d intercept it and then things would just escalate even more. I can handle this. I don’t know if I can handle more.”

“More has a way of coming whether you do anything to escalate it or not,” Bucky answered soberly. His gaze narrowed as he weighed each word. “If you had the money, you would leave?”

“I would leave right this second if I could. Look at that drawing. Look at my little girl—she doesn’t know how to draw a smile on her face.” Her tone dropped to a whisper as if she were talking more to herself than to him. “He works late, we’d be so far ahead of him…” She rubbed her temples, as if to push the thought away. “Not that it matters. I can’t believe I told you this. I can’t believe I sat here and said…” she swallowed hard. “I know how this looks. But Tandy is safe. I will keep Tandy safe.”

“I guess that all depends on what safe means.” He closed his eyes, thinking of his little sister Becca, how she’d traded one prison for another, marrying a man just as aggressive as their father in an effort to escape his brutal rule. Though she’d broken free of that abusive relationship and underwent therapy to deal with her childhood trauma, it had taken far too many bruises and scars to get there. “Look, what I’m about to do. There’s probably rules against it or something. I don’t know.” But what the fuck did he even care? He wasn’t a real teacher anyway. He liked to think he’d be decent enough to help even if it could get him canned. He shifted, reaching to retrieve his wallet. He opened it and pulled out every bit of cash he had in it. Five hundred dollars. “It’s enough to get you gas, food, and a good hotel room.”

Melissa froze, her mouth falling open as she gawked at the money. “I can’t…surely, you know I can’t take this.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t. I can’t even pay you back.”

“I’m leaving in a week. Even if you could, I wouldn’t be here to get it.”

“But…” She swayed slightly in her chair, one arm folded against her stomach.

“I’m not trying to creep you out or make you feel bad or any of the other dozen or so things racing through your mind right now. I’m trying to help the only way I can. Take it. It’s yours. For Tandy. She deserves to grow up in a home where she sees her mother respected. She deserves to grow up with the knowledge that she deserves respect too. I wish someone had helped my mother. My sister, too. I was too young and too stupid and too damn angry to be much good to either of them. But I grew up. And this? This, I can do.”

“Mr. Barnes…” Her voice warbled with emotion. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Just take it. Use it to get away. If you’re not ready today, hide it somewhere he won’t find it. Use it when you’re ready. That’s all. That’s all I can do for you.”

“That’s all?” she asked, hazel orbs shining with tear-stained wonder.

For Bucky, it didn’t feel like nearly enough. But it was something.

**********

Sam hovered outside the open doorway, a sharp pain thumping in his chest as he took in Bucky’s stooped posture, the unforgiving way the other man clutched at his forehead, lean fingers twisting through his unruly locks. It had been ten minutes since Melissa Bowen had collected Tandy from his classroom, and Sam suspected Bucky hadn’t moved an inch.

As if sensing his presence, Bucky exhaled, shifting to peer up at Sam through narrowed, defeated slits. “Why do I have a feeling you heard more of that than I wanted?”

“Both doors were open,” he answered tentatively. When Bucky recoiled, Sam rushed to stave off the rising panic. “Tandy and MJ didn’t hear anything. I promise. I put ‘em on Starfall. Headphones,” he explained, pointing to the computers in Bucky’s own room, though he wasn’t sure if the other teacher had made use of any of the school’s extensive learning programs. Too busy with the painting, the exercising, the cat adopting, and the nature hunts. Sam wasn’t complaining though—MJ had talked his ear off about that hunt. About the kitten, too. He liked Bucky’s hands-on approach, the list of things he found attractive about the other man growing every day.

“Headphones. Of course,” Bucky mumbled with a subtle nod. “How are you so good at this?”

“It helps when I surround myself with people not so good at this. Makes me look better in comparison,” he ribbed to lighten the mood, strides purposeful as he claimed the chair Melissa Bowen recently vacated. His heart rate ramped up as Bucky’s hooded, hopeful gaze took in every movement. “Okay James Barnes. Tell me where your head’s at?”

Bucky hesitated, locked in on Sam’s knees now across from his own. Sam heard the unspoken plea, scooting the chair forward until he was all up in Bucky’s personal space, close but not quite touching. His breath hitched when Bucky took it a step further, sliding his own chair forward, bypassing knocking knees all together to get his leg in between Sam’s—all up in his business. Sam forgot to blink, jaw going slack as he eyed their side-by-side limbs. There was no heterosexual explanation for this, no way to play it off; Sam realized with startling clarity that he didn’t want to. He was one hundred freaking percent on board. “We’re doing this then?”

Bucky let out a harsh scoff. “Haven’t you figured out yet that I have no idea what I’m doing?”

“Well, that much is obvious, but you do seem to pick things up pretty quickly.” His tongue darted out to trace his bottom lip, Bucky tracking the motion with a stilted inhale. “Whatever you got going in that head of yours right now, you know it ain’t happening here,” he warned, because this man had actually slotted their legs together like essential pieces of the same puzzle right there in the kindergarten classroom—and Sam had let him. And though the connection was still innocent, it was also extreme—Doc R sure to have a lot to say if she came strolling by.

“I just need…” he shook his head, the sentence dying off.

“Say it. Tell me what you need,” Sam prompted, having the distinct feeling that Bucky worked overtime to be an island unto himself, completely free…but also completely alone. How well Sam understood this, his own life following a similar trajectory—more by necessity than choice—but separated all the same.

“I need…I don’t know…contact?” His tongue ventured out to moisten both lips, and it was Sam’s turn to track the movement, a shiver of longing zigzagging through him.

Sam placed a hand on the knee outside his own. “Okay, I got you, keep going.”

“MJ still got those headphones on?”

“Yeah, she’ll be there ‘til I pull her off. That girl loves Starfall.”

Bucky shuddered when Sam gave his knee a gentle squeeze. “I’m afraid I fucked it up, Sam. With Tandy’s mom. That I made it worse. What if I made it worse? I was trying to help, but I don’t know.”

Sam sighed heavily, lost to his own thoughts for a long moment. “Look, in a situation like this…there’s not always a right way to help someone. Or an easy way. You just…you just help them—however you can and however they’ll let you. And that’s gonna look different depending on the person and the circumstances. I’ve seen it more than once in this job. Wanted to come to blows more than once, too. Some of these assholes…” He took a deep breath before continuing. “The only thing that stops me is those kids. What do they learn if they see me react that way? Don’t they already see enough violence? I don’t want my boys to look at me and think that’s all right. That fists are the only answer. And I don’t want my girls to think that’s an okay way for a man to communicate. I just…I gotta be better. I always gotta be better. And for me, well, there isn’t room for mistakes. I don’t get extra chances or opportunities. I don’t get a pass.”

Bucky nodded grimly, reaching out to place his own palm over Sam’s, silent communication that he was there. He was listening. That he wasn’t pushing for more than Sam wanted to give. Sam felt his heart soften and unfurl, the breathtaking spark of possibility landing to take root. He’d conditioned himself not to hope, not to trust, MJ his everything from the moment of her birth. He wanted to trust this man. Wanted to believe in him. And that scared the fuck out of him. “I…” he fumbled for words, ones that didn’t lay him open and reveal too much. “You did the best you could. With Tandy’s mother. That’s…sometimes that’s all you can do. But the worst thing, the worst thing is to do nothing. To turn a blind eye. Believe me on that.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened. “I guess since you…uh…heard us…you heard what I said about my childhood. That I got some experience with this.”

“No shame in that, for you anyway. I…” he halted, considering how to proceed. “I got experience too, I guess. Not the same. But my best friend went through something like that. I didn’t know how to help her. Didn’t know what I was doing. In the end, all I could do was be there for her. You were there for Tandy’s mother. And from what I gathered, you took it a step further and gave her a way out from your own pocket.”

“I don’t…I don’t want credit for that. I don’t want credit for being decent.” Bucky shook his head in dismay. “Anyone would do that.”

“Not anyone, Buck. But I do wanna know what they’re paying subs around here, that you just happen to be packing enough money for a trip cross-country at all times? Cause I’m a teacher, and I never have that kind of cash on me.”

“That was my travel money.”

“Wait, does that mean you’re stuck here in Astoria then?”

When Sam wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, Bucky’s face broke into a fond grin. “You flirting with me, Sam Wilson?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. You into it?”

“I could be,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

“Look at you, trying to be cute. Like you ain’t about to follow me home.”

“You’re a little full of yourself, Wilson.”

“Oh, I am, am I? Say the rest of what you’re thinking. I dare you.”

“Can’t. We’re in a school.”

“Knew it. Know a lead-in to an innuendo when I hear one.” Sam let out a beleaguered groan—this was only bound to go one way, especially if Bucky was feeling him, the way he was feeling Bucky. He just hoped his heart came out unscathed once all was said and done. “You’re gonna be the worst idea I ever had, aren’t you?”

“Probably. Best to stop this here.”

“Yeah. Just nip it right in the bud.” He leaned back in his chair, their gazes locking in a stare off. Sam was stubborn as hell, but this was a contest he didn’t want to win. He broke the contact, staring at their thighs. Bucky’s fitted snugly within his own was an image he wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon. He pretended to think it through, when really, he’d been planning to ask Bucky out all weekend. “So, how about dinner? My place. Tomorrow night.”

“On a school night? You devil.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to leave at like nine. I’m not playing. Those kids go hard on hump day and I gotta be ready.” He held up his finger, before Bucky could hit him with the racy comeback. “Don’t. We’re in the school.”

Bucky grunted in amusement. “You only inviting me because you feel sorry for me?”

“Oh absolutely. It has nothing to do with your steel blue eyes or the abs I know you got hiding under that atrocity you call a shirt right now.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?”

“What’s on it? Jalapeños?” Sam gave the splashy button down an unimpressed onceover. He’d noticed it this morning and been curious all day.

“Yeah, well, Peter said on Friday that if you eat too many jalapeños, you’ll…” Bucky made a slashing gesture across his throat. “So, I thought this might give him a positive reaction to them. We also had a discussion on just how many a person would have to eat for that to happen, which really isn’t even feasible. So, he seems to feel better about the whole thing.”

“You just happened to have a jalapeño shirt on hand?”

“It’s called Amazon, Sam.”

“So, you went and bought a shirt for it?”

“Well, it worked,” he shrugged like it was no big deal. Like he wasn’t sitting over there causally making Sam melt little by little. “And the kids liked it.”

“Those kids fixing to have you wrapped around their paint-stained little fingers, Mr. Barnes.” Sam shook his head as if he weren’t all kinds of charmed over it. “So, yes or no? Can I cook you dinner? It’s a pretty good offer, since now you’re broke, right?”

“You don’t have to sell me on this, Sweetheart. I’m in.”

“Good,” Sam smirked, pushing his chair back. He stretched as he stood, knowing damn good and well, Bucky would be checking out the peek of abdomen as he did so. “That gives you time to come up with a different pet name.”

“What’s wrong with Sweetheart? You’re sweet. Maybe I’m sweet on you.”

“Yeah, well a little birdie told me—”

“That little birdie being MJ, I guess?”

“Actually Ned. Ned told me that you call Alpine ‘Sweetheart’, which is really cute, don’t get me wrong.” He leaned forward to clasp Bucky’s hand, lifting it so that he could place a quick kiss on it, both to be flirty and to shock the hell out of him. When Bucky’s mouth fell open, Sam wanted to do a victory lap. “But I ain’t about to share a pet name with your actual pet, so you’re gonna have to do better than that.” He backed away, grin wide and playful. “You got 24 hours, Mr. Barnes.”

Chapter Text

Sam swung open the door, schooling his expression into a pleasant smile when really, he wanted to laugh Bucky Barnes off the front stoop before gathering him back up into a fierce hug. Though Bucky rang the bell right on time, he’d also spent a good three minutes prior on the porch fidgeting with his hair, pants, and whatever the hell he had in that oversized paper bag he was hauling around. Thank the good Lord for ring cameras placed in obscure, hard to see places and hot, messy, white men too nervous to notice much of anything. The whole ordeal had been highly entertaining for Sam as he messed with his pie crust.

“Right on time,” Sam declared, giving him an appreciative once over like he hadn’t been secretly ogling the man for the last few minutes.

“Punctuality is one of the things I usually manage to get right,” he admitted, sheepish, nibbling his bottom lip as he jostled his bag, hesitantly reaching toward Sam’s face. “You…uh…got a little…flour…” He waited for a nod of approval before gently swiping his thumb across Sam’s cheek.

Sam leaned into the touch, about to jump out of his skin even as he played it cool. “Thanks,” he managed, pulse raging. Less than thirty seconds in and they were already touching. Sam didn’t mind it at all. “Come in. You look nice. At least it ain’t jalapeños.” Bucky had paired a well-fitted linen navy button-down with a pair of mocha-colored chinos, top two buttons undone, and sleeves rolled up to show off a healthy dose of forearm. Sam felt completely normal about it. Yep. Fuck, Bucky gave good forearm though. “Nat dress you?”

“No. I resent that.” Sam lifted a single eyebrow. “Okay, she may have vetoed my first choice. But make no mistake, I know how to dress to impress, Sugar.”

Sugar?

So, Bucky was taking the challenge to find a replacement nickname seriously then. Sam was ready to micromanage the hell out of that. He tilted his head to the side, as he considered the endearment. “Nope. Too white plantation owner.” He felt a wave of glee when Bucky looked aghast.

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Not yet,” he said, voice dripping with flirty innuendo. “Come on in.”

“You look great. Handsome. Perfect, actually. I guess that goes without saying. You always do,” Bucky rambled as he walked over the threshold.

God help Sam, he’d invited the man in. Nothing but trouble, this one, deep down he knew it. But when trouble looked like that, it was hard not to at least get your feet a little wet. “Still nice to hear it.” He gave an easy shrug as if he hadn’t spent 40 minutes picking out the black ribbed polo and dark jeans he’d ultimately landed on. Not the best choice when making a homemade pie crust, Sam eternally grateful for the ‘Mr. Good Lookin’ is Cookin’’ apron Faith had gotten him as a gag gift two years prior. He’d, of course, ripped it off the second the doorbell chimed. It’d been a while since he’d had a first date, and never in his own home. “I’m highly intrigued and mildly apprehensive. What’s in the bag? Because I distinctly remember telling you in my last text to just bring yourself.”

“Like I’m showing up empty-handed, Doll.”

“Doll? What are you from the 40’s? No.”

“Baby?”

“Too high school.”

“Bae?”

“Now, you’re fucking with me. You better be fucking with me.”

“Not yet,” Bucky countered with a cunning grin.

“And you’re stealing my lines.”

“They’re good lines.”

“I know.”

“Dear?”

“We’re not 80, Barnes.”

“Could I just rename Alpine at this point?”

“Too late for that. Damage is done. I’ll always know she was your sweetheart first.”

“Thanks a lot Ned Leeds,” Bucky grumbled. They’d stopped inside the living room. He took a moment to marvel at it, while Sam marveled at him. This was gonna be a damn problem, especially with a five-year-old just up the stairs. Bucky didn’t know that yet. Sam wasn’t looking forward to telling him that their first date would have to stay PG.

“Okay, so the bag?”

“Hmm? Oh!” Bucky glanced down, as if surprised to find himself hauling a huge-ass paper bag around. “This…well…okay.” He fumbled around, wrapping an arm around the bottom to keep it secure, while reaching into it with his free hand. “These are for you.”

Sam whistled at the bouquet of daisies he whipped out, pursing his lips to hide his smile when Bucky thrust them at him like they might bite. “Wow. Thank you. They’re gorgeous.” He narrowed his eyes. “And also, my favorite?”

“Yeah, well maybe a little birdie helped me. Not Ned Leeds.”

“Let me guess. A five-year-old little birdie with more sass than sense sometimes?”

“Sam, your daughter is equal parts sass and sense. It’s a little terrifying, actually. Not to mention humbling.”

He chuckled as he moved toward the kitchen, trusting Bucky to follow. “How exactly did my favorite flower come up in casual conversation between you ‘n MJ?” Though he’d always been drawn to daisies for their resilience not their scent, Sam automatically sniffed them. Joy hummed through him. Happy, pretty flowers that had a way of surviving against all odds. Listen up now. You’re just like those daisies I’m always growing, Sammy. Even now he could hear his beloved TiTi, clutching his hand as she comforted him, even though it was her last days they were facing, the cancer too aggressive and too far gone by the time the doctors found it. You’re gonna keep thriving.

“Let’s see, this morning she started drawing flowers on the dry erase board, then glanced over her shoulder and said, ‘by the way, daisies are my dad’s favorite.’ All while giving me her most judgey look.”

“Subtle.”

“As a flying dagger.”

Sam reached below the sink for the vase he hadn’t used since Faith had lived with them. Her love of fresh flowers had always given him an excuse to buy them, but now that she was gone, he couldn’t justify the expense. “Speaking of…” his shoulders tensed as he filled the vase with water. He placed them in, making a mental note to trim the stems and add the packet of flower food later. “Look, uh. I’m sorry about this. But MJ is here tonight. She’s currently upstairs getting ready for our uh…get- together.”

“Get-together? So, it’s not a date anymore?”

“Well, I’m not sure how much of one it can be with a five-year-old here? Maria—Dr. Rambeau—” he explained, “was going to watch her tonight, but I guess strep is still going around, because her daughter managed to get it.”

Bucky nodded gravely, though his eyes were shining in amusement. “Knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“C’mon Sam. That woman can’t stand me. Of course she figured out a way to cock-block me. Let me guess, you’re also allergic to chocolate.”

“Choc…what?” Sam shook his head as all of Bucky’s words sank in. “Wait. Oh, you’re being cock-blocked now? Is that right? Kinda presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“I prefer the term optimistic, Darlin’.”

Oh! Sam really shouldn’t like that one, but he kinda did, especially when Bucky said it with a little hint of twang. “I don’t put out on the first date,” he said haughtily, as if he hadn’t been at the drug store looking for condoms when Maria called to cancel out on watching MJ for the evening. But whatever. Bucky did not need to know that.

“Well, I do,” the other man shrugged. “So, maybe we could meet in the middle.”

“Not with my daughter here,” Sam returned, and even he could hear the regret in his own voice.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed. “Not with your kid here. I get it. And look, it’s all right. You know that, right?” He frowned, clearing his throat. “You’re a package deal. And…I don’t know. I feel really lucky to spend time with you both. I’m not disappointed she’s here. She’s a lot of fun.” He tilted his head to the side. “I mean, I guess I might have dressed less slutty had I known.”

“I knew it!” Sam exploded, delighted all the same. “All that neck on display. And those forearms. You came here to seduce me!”

“Sam, look at yourself. You’re so fucking perfect; I can barely breathe. Of course, I came here to seduce you.” He straightened to full height. “I will now button back up and roll my sleeves down.”

“Don’t be hasty now. She’s five. She won’t notice,” Sam said with a casual wave.

“You like this display, Sam?”

“I don’t hate it. Stop fishing for validation. Makes you sound needy.”

“Oh, I’m needy, all right. You did know your daughter was here and you still dressed like that.”

“If you mean completely respectable, then yes.”

“All black. With a V-neck, c’mon, Wilson. You’re not fooling me.”

“I got a good neck.”

“You got a great neck.”

“I know.” Sam grinned like the devil his dad used to warn about in those fire and brimstone sermons. Whether he was leading Bucky astray or vice versa was anybody’s guess. “Do I get to see what else is in that bag?”

“No, since I’m not getting lucky.”

“Oh, that’s how it is?”

Bucky failed miserably at maintaining a severe expression, the sparkle in his eyes too bright, too becoming. Too besotted to fool Sam.

“You weren’t gonna get lucky anyway,” Sam lied like a liar.

“Well, let’s just see about that, shall we?” He reached into the bag and pulled out…a Magic 8 Ball? What the actual hell? When Bucky held it out, Sam took it. “Let’s go. Let’s settle this like real men,” Bucky instructed, only to let out a disapproving tsk when Sam started shaking it.

“What?”

“You’re not supposed to shake it.”

“How’re you gonna get an answer if you don’t shake it?”

“You just turn it over, turn it back, and let the answer float to the top.”

“No. That’s not what you do. I’m shaking it.”

“You’re not supposed to.”

“Everybody shakes it.”

“Fine. But you’re gonna get bubbles. How do you not know how a Magic 8 Ball works?”

“I know how it works,” he argued, turning it over in an exaggerated motion. “There. Happy?”

Bucky looked entirely too smug. Sam wanted to kiss him about it. Bucky glared at the ball. “Would I have gotten lucky with Sam tonight if MJ wasn’t here?” Bucky asked.

“You’re being a dick about a Magic 8 Ball, the answer is no,” Sam tossed back, turning it over to let the answer float to the top. “Outlook not so good,” he crowed in triumph.

“Well fuck,” Bucky muttered.

“The 8-ball don’t lie. Sorry.” Sam sat the offering down beside the flowers. “Why do we have this?”

“I saw it when I was getting the candy. Thought MJ might get a kick out of it.”

“You got it for M?” Sam absolutely did not dissolve into a puddle of feels over that. He did not. “Wait. The candy?” When Bucky pulled out a box of Russell Stover, Sam damn near declared himself.

“In the car pickup line today, before she decided to cock-block me, Dr. Rambeau happened to mention you’re a sucker for truffles.”

“She just randomly mentioned this, hmm?” Sam said, feeling his cheeks heat.

“They’ll go well with the wine Nat insisted I bring,” Bucky continued, reaching into the bag to retrieve a bottle. “She swears this is good stuff. I’m not much of a wine guy myself, but Nat knows everything.” His eyes crinkled, gaze tender as it flickered over Sam. “Turns out every female in my vicinity thinks you deserved to be wooed. I can’t disagree.”

“So instead of choosing one thing, you went ahead and got everything? Not worried about coming on too strong?”

“Course, I got you everything. I’m aiming to sweep you off your feet, Wilson.”

“Yeah, okay then.” Sam sat the gifts aside before reaching for the now empty bag. He let it fall to the kitchen floor, kicking it aside so he could hold on to Bucky instead. Grabbing those sexy as fuck forearms, he pulled him closer. “How one man can be both a disaster and so stunningly capable at the same time is a mystery. You are an enigma.”

“Sam…” Bucky managed with a breathy whisper. He leaned down, resting his forehead against Sam’s, his tone tremulous. “Don’t try to solve this mystery. It’ll only lead to disappointment.”

That sounded ominous. Sam was too smitten to care, Bucky’s fingers trailing down his spine in a seductive slide. They came to a stop just above his waistband, drawing light circles on the small of his back through the polo. “What do you suggest then?”

“Just be in the here and now. I don’t…I don’t want to lie to you. But there are things you don’t know. I just…I can’t be an open book.”

Sam might have chuckled, but the air between them was too thick for frivolity. Too charged and tense. “You think I’m an open book?” he asked with a throaty murmur. “You can keep your secrets, Barnes. And I’ll keep mine. But Bucky?”

“Yeah?” Bucky visibly trembled as Sam moistened his lips.

“You best believe I’m taking the rest.” He surged into the sanctuary of Bucky’s sturdy frame, all hard bodies and soft lips as mouths connected then consumed, tentative but so very willing, the kisses sweet and lingering as they learned the texture and taste of one another. The press of Bucky’s hand against his back, urging him forward--as if they could get any closer. The skillful sweep of his tongue in Sam’s mouth—somehow gentle and claiming all at once. His scent—an enticing mix of sandalwood, amber, and spice. Sam was surrounded by this man, lost to each new sensation Bucky’s embrace pulled from his pliant, seeking, needy body.

And then…

“Daaad! Is Mr. B here yet?”

They both jerked away, MJ’s eager voice carrying through the house to douse the ardent desire still trying to swirl between them. “There you are!” MJ trotted into the room, as Sam turned toward the counter, randomly moving things about like that’s what he’d been doing all along.

“Here I am,” Bucky said, voice strained with forced joviality. Sam came thisclose to snickering but reined it in. It’d been a while, but judging by the dazed look on Bucky’s ridiculously handsome face, Sam still knew how to make a man weak in the knees.

“Whatcha doing?” she asked, all wide-eyed, childish innocence.

“Just helping your dad with dinner.”

“What are we having?” When Bucky just blinked at her, MJ placed her hands on her hips. “How’re you helping if you don’t even know what we’re having?”

“I’m not actually much help.”

MJ considered the comment for a moment before giving a small nod. “That tracks.”

Sam had to cover his mouth to stifle the emerging laugh. “Michelle Jones Wilson,” he said sternly.

“He said it,” MJ defended, grin impish. “It’s polite to agree with our guests. Right Mr. B?”

“I fear she has a point, Sam.”

“I fear the two of you together will cause me nothing but a headache.”

“Oooh, candy!” Her gaze grew wide and eager at the box waiting on the counter. “Can I have some?”

“No. It’s mine. And you’ll spoil your appetite.”

She barely pouted before pointing to the daisies. “And flowers! You’re so smart, Mr. B,” MJ cooed. “Isn’t he smart, Dad?” She asked as if she hadn’t orchestrated the whole thing.

Sam loved her with every bit of his heart. This sweet, precocious, perfect girl. And he got to be her dad. “He definitely has his moments. It’s like, I don’t know, he’s a mind reader or something. Knowing what I like when I never even said.”

MJ had never looked prouder. Sam wanted to squeeze her. His stomach gave a tender flip when he realized Bucky was looking at her just as fondly. “Must be the Magic 8 Ball,” Bucky said with a decided nod.

“The what?”

Sam shook his head. Damn, he was in trouble. He was close to keeping this man, when this man had made it abundantly clear before their first kiss, he was not the keeping kind. “Why don’t you show her what you got her? I’ll finish up in here.”

“You got me something?” MJ bounced on her toes in excitement. Bucky reached for the 8 Ball, while MJ reached for his hand. Bucky stared at her in surprise but didn’t let go as she pulled him along…and Sam…Sam could only take in a desperate gulp of air as he felt his heart leave his body to sashay out of the room after them.

Chapter Text

Bucky stifled the urge to pinch himself at least a dozen times during his first date with Sam, the atmosphere so relaxed, the conversation so witty, and the company so completely charming, Bucky’s world tilted precariously off its axis. He would never be the same, the joy that radiated off Sam and MJ seeping through all his carefully constructed walls, reaching the core of him to light a hearth behind his ribcage.

Absently he rubbed at his chest, wondered at the steady contentment saturating all his empty places with warmth as Sam’s rich laughter filled the air around them. They were in the kitchen, Sam making his famous ‘Wilson Family Cajun Spiked Hot Chocolate” –a recipe that somehow called for both cayenne pepper and bourbon (“but we’re gon’ go light on the liquor since we both got school tomorrow and you gotta drive home.”), as Sam finished up a story about his first day teaching first grade. Though it’d taken three tries, Sam finally managed to get MJ started on her nighttime routine, promising if she brushed her teeth and donned her pj’s without a hassle, she could have 20 minutes of tablet time before lights out. The way honey eyes sparked at that, little feet shuffling into action as she tossed a ‘say goodbye before you go, Bucky!’ over her shoulder before high tailing it to the stairs told Bucky that tablet time before bed was a luxury in these parts. How he’d gone from Mr. B to Bucky in the span of one dinner was both a mystery and a victory that Bucky wasn’t about to question.

Which officially left Bucky 20 minutes--maybe 30 if he worked his charm--before the date officially ended, Sam far too dad-coded to let YouTube raise his daughter while he got his flirt on. Among the many, many, many things, Bucky liked about Sam Wilson, the man’s devotion to his daughter ranked first.

“Hey. Wanna make yourself useful and give this a stir?” Sam’s dark gaze brimmed with mischief as he held the whisk out to Bucky.

“But you look so gorgeous standing over a hot stove, Handsome.” He sauntered forward, sidling up behind Sam as he reached around him to grab the whisk to stir the chocolate mixture. “Hmm. Like this?”

“What makes you think it’s appropriate for you to be all up on me like this?” Sam asked with a saucy murmur even as he backed against Bucky’s rippled torso.

“Maybe the fact you strategically placed yourself in front of the stove before asking me to stir?” Bucky rejoined. He gave a thoughtful pause. “Unless I’m reading this wrong? Is this okay?”

“No, no. You’re reading it right. You seem pretty damn fluent in the book of Sam, actually.” Sam let his head fall back to rest against Bucky’s shoulder, as Bucky wound one arm around his abdomen, the hold both comforting and secure. “I could get used to this.”

“Good.” Bucky leaned close, his voice a sultry rasp as his dimpled chin brushed against Sam’s neck with a tantalizing scratch. “Fuck, you smell good,” he said, making a half-hearted attempt at stirring as he nuzzled Sam’s skin, nosing along his jawline.

Sam muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “this mother fucker right here…” before turning in the circle of Bucky’s arms to capture his mouth in a heated kiss. Bucky sank into the contours of Sam’s hard body, the arms around his waist a calming crush as tongues collided in a fiery dance.

Between the kissing, the moaning, the grinding, and the caressing, they damn near ruined the hot chocolate, Bucky tasting the vague hint of burnt beneath the bourbon, when they reluctantly stopped making out long enough to take their drinks to the couch. Sam had topped their cups with marshmallows and a sprinkle of cinnamon; Bucky so close to falling in love, he was ready to call it.

Amazing really, since he’d never run the risk of falling in his life, his turbulent upbringing distorting his concept of relationships and family to the point he’d never wanted those things for himself. Sex had always been chasing a high or a means to an end, little emotion or attachment involved, just the gratification of fulfilling a biological need. He’d fucked his fair share of men, a few women too, but he’d never wanted to hold any of them…never wanted to be held in return…never wanted to be touched outside of what was necessary to see the act through to the inevitable satisfying end. But sitting on Sam’s sofa, watching him sip hot chocolate that had nearly boiled over because they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, hearing him rant because ‘my family’s hot chocolate is better than this. You gotta give me a chance to redeem myself.’ (For the record, Bucky thought it was the best hot chocolate he’d ever had, but whatever. If Sam thought he had something to prove, that meant there’d be a next time. Bucky wasn’t about to say anything that would keep that from happening.) Bucky ached to be in his arms. He wanted to touch, to be touched, to fold Sam into his waiting embrace and hold him all night long. He wanted to wake up next to him. To see what he looked like with the glow of the morning sun gliding across his features. His Sam—just as bright--giving warmth and energy to all fortunate enough to bask in his light. “It’s pretty good,” Bucky said with a calculated slurp, because yeah—he was angling for that next time. He should feel guilty about it, but a man had to hustle sometimes to get what he wanted. He wanted Sam Wilson. He wanted that second date. He wanted…

Fuck…he wanted everything.

“Pretty good? My dad is turning in his grave right now. We’re Wilson’s. Our hot chocolate is not pretty good.”

“You sure that’s why he’s turning in his grave right now?” Bucky asked with a sly wink as he took another hearty drink. “You sure it had nothing to do with you feeling me up in your kitchen over your sacred family brew?”

“I wasn’t feeling you up. If anyone was feeling anyone up…” Sam rumbled with a disconcerted rant, even as his eyes slanted demurely at being called out like that. Bucky swooped in with the rescue, unwilling to see his favorite guy wallow in any embarrassment.

“Oh, I was definitely feeling you up, Sweetheart, I admit it.”

“There you go again.”

“I can’t help it. I really like Sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I do too,” he groused back, looking entirely too soft over the endearment for Bucky’s peace of mind.

“If it helps, I only call the ones I adore ‘sweetheart.’”

“Yeah, so me and a stray cat, who else gets that privilege?”

“Just you and the stray cat right now.”

Sam contemplated that for a moment, finally blowing out a heavy exhale. “Bucky, you haven’t known me long enough to adore me.”

“Try me,” he shot back with a broad smile. Had he ever smiled as much in his life, since knowing Sam, MJ…the rest of those kids? “There’s a lot about you worth adoring.”

Both of Sam’s hands surrounded his mug. He brought it up to his lips for a tentative swallow. “You said you didn’t want to lie to me, Bucky. I don’t want to lie to you either. It’s a lot easier…all of this…if…it’s just casual. But the thing is, I’ve never been about casual. I…just…I go all in. And…I can’t afford to risk everything. I can’t afford to get hurt here.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you either,” he repeated.

“How would you hurt me?” Bucky’s brow furrowed, the cryptic way Sam avoided his searching gaze putting his instincts on alert. He was an expert at reading between the lines, at hearing what somebody wasn’t saying amid what they were saying—that’s what made him so successful at his job. What led him to find the missing person and collect the reward. But what was happening with Sam right here wasn’t a job…or a reward Bucky collected at the end of the day.

This was real. And meaningful. Bucky wanted more.

Sam pressed his lips together. He took a steeling breath, shoulders tensing before he responded. “I don’t know that…that you can build anything meaningful on a foundation made of lies. It just…it doesn’t work.”

Bucky managed a slow nod, masking a surge of despair. Sam was intuitive--keen and discerning. He didn’t have to know the extent of Bucky’s secrets to guess they were the sort that would drive them apart.

“I’m not saying I want to stop this,” Sam continued. “I just…we have to be careful. For both our sakes. For MJ’s. I can’t…I can’t ever lose her.”

Bucky let the words settle, struck by the anxious edge to them. Why would he lose MJ? Did this have to do with his ex? Was Sam worried that MJ’s mother wouldn’t accept him in another relationship? And was Bucky selfish enough to risk dissention between MJ’s parents just because he wanted Sam? He knew he wasn’t the best romantic choice for someone as loving and loyal as Sam—someone who had his shit together while Bucky flailed around all over the place, too damned scared to land. Too scared to stay. “I don’t…I care about MJ, Sam,” Bucky said, hesitant but honest. “Tonight…it wasn’t great despite her. But because of her. I…I’d never hurt her. I get you have to be careful. And if that means this is it, that this cup of mediocre hot chocolate is where it ends, then I get it.”

“Oh, you asshole!” Sam exclaimed, affection replacing the worry in his eyes. Bucky’s heart skipped a dangerous beat. “My hot chocolate is not mediocre. You’re manipulating me like a mother fucker right now.”

“I’m completely manipulating you like a mother fucker right now.” His face sobered. “But I’m also telling the truth. We can end it here. I understand.”

He had to understand. He still had a job to do. Though Tandy had been in school that day—which meant Melissa Bowen hadn’t taken his money and run (at least not yet, much to Bucky’s dismay)—Nat had been able to dig far enough into the girl’s history based on Bucky’s encounter with her mother to determine Tandy wasn’t Rumlow’s daughter. Nat had also taken another approach, getting one of their IT wizards to hack into the school’s mainframe to make sure no kids had enrolled but already left, or skipped kindergarten altogether and ended up in first grade. Both dead ends, they were back to Bucky’s classroom of girls. Nat hadn’t ruled out Karolina Dean and was going to look again at Kate Bishop. They were close, he just had to wait this out and not get fired in the process. Falling for Sam…falling for MJ…it wasn’t wise. But somehow it all felt inevitable. And for Bucky, it changed everything. Once this was over, he fully intended to fall prostrate at Sam’s feet and beg for the opportunity to explain himself…beg for forgiveness and the chance to make this thing between them work.

Sam placed his cup on the coffee table, reaching for Bucky’s to do the same. He grabbed Bucky’s hands, pulling him forward with a gentle tug. “Yeah. No. I don’t want to end it here.” Their lips met, careful and searching, desperate and yearning, so much left unsaid between them as Sam’s fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair and Bucky’s hands pressed into Sam’s waist. When they broke for air, Sam leaned forward to nestle against Bucky’s cheek, his body responding with a slight tremor when Bucky in turn kissed his forehead. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Same page. Book of Sam. I’m there.”

“All right then.” Sam let out a sigh, reluctantly moving to stand. “I actually got a kid up there who will stay up all night if I don’t tuck her in and tell her a story. She’ll do anything to make a point.”

“Where she get all that stubbornness from, I wonder.”

“One hundred percent, her mother.” When Bucky raised his eyebrows, dubious, Sam gave him a playful shove. “Get out of here.”

“Can’t. Your daughter insisted I tell her bye first. Remember?” He searched Sam’s face. “Is that all right? I don’t have to.”

“And leave me here to take the blame? Forget that. Go tell that child goodnight. I’m gonna run some water into these mugs I filled with delicious-”

“Pretty good-”

“Delicious hot chocolate. I’m not about to put up with your slander. Tell her I’ll be right up? She’s first door on the right.”

“You got it,” Bucky said with a grin, heading for the stairs. As he ascended, all he had to do was follow the sound of MJ’s voice to find her. He couldn’t help but eavesdrop.

“Am I Peter’s best friend?” There was a beat of silence, before she continued. “As I see it, yes. That’s what I thought.” MJ declared.

Bucky raised his fist to his mouth, a ripple of delight dashing through him as he realized she was playing with her Magic 8 Ball. “Will my dad and Mr. B get married one day?”

Wait, what??

Bucky choked back a cough as she continued. “Hmmph,” she mumbled, clearly not pleased with the answer. “I said, will my dad and Mr. B get married one day?” Bucky stupidly held his breath, as a five-year-old with a Magic 8 Ball decided his fate. “Outlook good. That’s better.”

Bucky’s pulse raced as his heart melted, a swell of baffled happiness overtaking him because miraculously, his toughest critic seemed taken by the idea of Bucky staying in her life for keeps. As for Bucky? Well, he wasn’t nearly as terrified by the prospect as he should have been. He stepped forward, figuring he better interrupt before she said something that drove him recklessly to one knee the moment Sam appeared. He reached up to knock on her open door but hesitated, distracted by her cuteness. His eyes crinkled warmly as he took in the sight of her sitting cross-legged on her bed in unicorn pajamas shaking the 8 Ball. She bent close to ask another question. “Will the bad man find us?” Her voice lowered to a covert whisper as she stared intently at the ball.

The bad man?

 Bucky froze, his body going immediately numb as his heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach. He swayed slightly, not even hearing the answer as she gave a little jerk, her eyes wide and joyful as she looked up and noticed him. “Bucky, you scared me,” she declared, forgetting what she’d been fretting over as she regarded him with a toothy smile.

“I came to say good night. As instructed,” he answered haltingly, careful to keep his expression blank even as his mind raced, the truth clicking into shattering place with startling clarity.

What he had been missing from the beginning. What he hadn’t let himself see as he became increasingly attached to MJ. To Sam.

“People in small towns can be like that.” Sam’s voice that night at the pizza place flitted through his mind. The words now sounded hollow. Haunted. “Quiet and reclusive…I guess a lot of people move to a small town to get away from something.”

“They’re best friends even though they’re divorced.” The memory of MJ’s voice replaced Sam’s, answering Bucky’s questions about her parents.

Bucky’s breath stuttered. “I got experience too, I guess. Not the same.” Sam had shared only the day before as they discussed Melissa Bowen’s situation, Bucky too enamored to put the pieces together. “But my best friend went through something like that. I didn’t know how to help her. Didn’t know what I was doing. In the end, all I could do was be there for her.”

Each fact presented itself with damning certainty.

Brock Rumlow was an abuser.

Sam’s best friend had been abused.

MJ’s mother was Sam’s best friend.

“There’s not always a right way to help someone. Or an easy way. You just…you just help them—however you can and however they’ll let you.”

Sam Wilson had helped his best friend the only way he knew how…by claiming her unborn child as his own.

MJ Wilson was the girl Bucky was looking for.

MJ Wilson was Brock Rumlow’s daughter.

Rumlow was coming for her.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure?”

“Whaddya mean, am I sure?” Bucky stopped pacing long enough to level Natasha with his most severe glower. After returning from what would have been the best date of his life if not for the whole pesky ‘the man I’m already half in love with and his precious daughter are in danger from a deranged evil asshole, and I’m the only one who knows it’ ending of it all, he’d unloaded everything he’d learned on his partner. Honestly, he’d expected a little more of a reaction than the quiet contemplation she had going on right now. “No. I just like dropping bombs and ruining lives because it’s fucking fun. Yay!”

Natasha folded her arms over her chest, stare glassy and unmoved.

“What?” He threw his hands wide when she scrutinized him without further response.

“Are you finished now? If I wanted theatrics, I would’ve caught up on Bridgerton this trip.”

He gritted his teeth, her relaxed sensibility innerving for a man wrestling with the puzzling, panicky urge to grab his Wilsons and go. Fuck…was this the sort of unhinged terror that spurred his father? Made George Barnes unravel, until he had no choice but to trek to the wilderness and force his family to live off grid. Bucky batted the intrusive thought away. You’re nothing like him.

But-

You’re nothing like him.

He forced a short fast breath past the tightness in his chest. He needed to focus, get his head back in the game. “Are you even listening?” He challenged the red head he trusted more than most, each word laced with venom. “Did you not hear anything I just said? MJ is Rumlow’s daughter!”

“What I heard is a lot of speculation and a lot of jumping to conclusions, but nothing that equates to actual proof. It’s flimsy at best. We had more to go on with Tandy Bowen. We have more to go on with Karolina or Kate. You heard MJ say one thing that could be construed as suspicious. Children say weird things all the time. Look at that one kid—Peter--always fixating on the ways he can die. You never know what they’re going to say or where their heads are at.”

“This is different,” he said, steadfast.

“And did you ask Sam about it?”

“Of course I did!” Natasha raised her brows at his surly tone, otherwise unaffected, poker face firmly in place as she waited for him to continue. “I’m not an amateur,” he griped. “I caught him before I left. Told him I overheard MJ talking about a bad man looking for them and was concerned. He completely shrugged it off. Said he might have gone a little hard on the stranger danger lectures, but she was everything to him so he couldn’t be sorry. Acted like it was no big deal.” Then proceeded to place a goodnight kiss on Bucky’s cheek before ushering him to the door like a gentleman. He wisely kept the domesticity part of the story to himself.

“That sounds pretty reasonable to me.”

Bucky cursed under his breath. “What? Suddenly you don’t trust my instincts?”

“At the moment? Not particularly. One of us has to stay objective here, and you’re too emotionally involved for it to be you.”

“That’s bull shit, Nat! Caring is not a weakness.”

“I never said it was. But do you know who has? You. And I would be remiss if I didn’t point out a few things right now. Namely, you could be seeing something that isn’t there.” She reached out, grabbing hold of his arm when he tried to shove past her, squeezing to keep him in place. “You like him, James. You really like him. And I think that scares the absolute fuck out of you. Maybe you’re looking for an out. A reason this thing with Sam won’t work, because the thought that it could last terrifies you.”

“Wow, thanks Dr. Freud. Let me know where to send the check.”

“First session is free,” she returned, just as glib, dropping her hand. “Next one’ll cost ya.”

“If you know me at all—anything about me at all—then you should know the last thing I want is any of those kids getting caught up in this. But especially not MJ. Sam. So no, I’m not inventing excuses to derail something good here. Yeah, maybe I’m feeling things that are new. Big, scary as fuck things I don’t understand and don’t know what to do with, but Nat…I’m not wrong about this. I wish I were, but I’m not.”

“Okay then.”  She exhaled, gathering her thoughts. “Are you compromised?”

“What kind of question is that? Suddenly I can’t do my job, that’s what you think?”

“Don’t deflect. Can you complete the assignment?”

“I’ve never fucked up an assignment. I got too much at stake to go starting now.”

“Good. Because I don’t need to tell you how bad it would be if you get fired before we see this through. We have one chance to get this right. We have to be sure. If we confront Sam with this and we’re wrong, then I don’t care how much he wants to get in your pants, he’s too good of a person not to go straight to Rambeau. You’ll be out. They’re not letting a fake teacher stay in that school, which means Rumlow gets a clear path to his kid.”

“Fuck, it’s almost like this was a shitty plan from the start. Like I said when Fury first presented it.”

“Is now really the time for I told you so’s?”

“Yeah, kinda! I feel like now is a really great effing time for I told you so’s actually.”

“You’re the one who went in. I have the teaching degree. It would have at least been legit with me there. You made a choice.”

“I did what I had to,” Bucky protested, but no valid argument made the truth any less disturbing. He would absolutely do it again—but that didn’t mean he’d ever be able to make Sam understand…or forgive him. His frustrated breath came out more like a growl.

“It’s not like our methods have never been questionable before. Fury and Carter will keep you out of prison.”

“I’m not worried about prison,” he bit out. “I’m worried about Sam and MJ hating me after this.” I don’t know that you can build anything meaningful on a foundation made of lies. At the time, Bucky had thought Sam’s words were about Bucky’s lies—never suspecting Sam had his own secrets that could destroy any possibility of a future for them. He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m worried I won’t be able to keep them safe.”

“It may not be them, Barnes.”

He regarded her numbly, wanting so badly to believe it—every fiber of his messed up, lonesome, miserable being wanted to believe it. But fuck it, his gut told him otherwise. He stiffened; gaze steely as he worked out how to best proceed. “Try Faith Jones for the mom. Sam, when he said MJ’s full name tonight, the J was for Jones. All of MJ’s paperwork says Faith Wilson. Stands to reason Jones may be her birth name.”

“You back with me then?”

“I never left. We just…you’re right. I know you’re right. We can’t screw this up. But Nat, we can’t sit on this either. I’m not sitting on this. The longer we do, the more danger they’re in.”

“Whether the girl we’re looking for is MJ or not, if we go in unprepared, that’s going to put them in more danger, too. We can’t jump the gun on this. You got to keep a clear head. I need you to keep a clear head. So, I’m going to ask the question again—already knowing the answer. Are you compromised?”

“Why you asking if you know?”

“Because I need to hear you say it. I need to know that you know.”

“Fine. Yes, okay? I’m compromised. I care too much. But it’s not going to make me reckless. Or stupid. I’m not about to risk their safety.”

“James, I’m not worried about you risking them. I know you wouldn’t. Did you ever stop to think, maybe I’m worried about you doing something stupid and risking yourself?”

“Careful Natalia,” he said softly, giving her back the words she’d said to him when Fury had first presented the assignment. “I might start to think you care.”

“Please,” she sniffed haughtily. “I’m just making sure you’re around, so Fury doesn’t try to partner me with Steve again.”

“That annoying attraction just keeps getting in the way, doesn’t it?”

“He wishes. I’m nothing if not professional.”

He might have smiled at how much they both protested, but it was impossible to find humor in anything at the moment. His expression sobered. “You need to understand, Nat, nothing’s happening to them.” Whatever it took, whatever sacrifice he had to make for Sam and MJ to stay safe, he’d do it. His life was a worthy sacrifice for two people he was suddenly certain might mean everything. And if he never got a chance to say that…to understand it or experience it…it didn’t really matter. Love didn’t have to be acknowledged or even returned to have meaning. He found a wayward smile, though fuck it hurt. Love, huh? He didn’t know he was capable of such a thing.

Nat watched him closely, seeming to realize he was having an epiphany even though she didn’t call him on it. Her eyebrows squeezed together as she pushed back all the things she wanted to say, projecting a calm she didn’t feel. “We have time. Rumlow is away. Just give me a day. We barely looked at MJ before. Can you give me a day?”

Bucky solemnly nodded, his jaw set. “One day. Then I’m telling Sam everything.”

**********

After a restless night of tossing and turning, what little sleep he managed marred by harrowing dreams of Rumlow attacking the school, snatching away the kids as Sam bled in his arms, Bucky wasn’t expecting much out of his Wednesday.

He’d started the morning with Nat pushing coffee at him, along with some Visine. “I’d say you look like hell, but that would offend the devil.”

Once at Astoria Academy, he shared a few bashful glances with Sam across the crowded hall as they welcomed their kids, his heart rate doing an odd lurching thing he’d decided to term ‘the Sam Wilson Effect’. As the students cleared out and the bell rang, Sam gave a low whistle. He backed into his classroom, everything Bucky had never known he wanted in a pair of designer jeans and a charcoal gray henley. “Looking pretty good over there, Mr. Barnes.”

“Lookin’ even better over there, Mr. Wilson.” Bucky made a conscious effort to memorize how his smile looked in that moment. Something to pull out down the road after Sam left him behind.

“MJ has something she wants to run by you.”

“MJ or you?” Bucky tossed back, turning up the charm even with the turmoil and uncertainty brewing around them. It was Sam, after all. And Sam…well, Sam brought out the flirt in him.

“Definitely MJ.”

“Oh, I bet there’s some things you wouldn’t mind running by me as well, Mr. Wilson.”

“Mm, before you finish that thought, you might wanna look behind you.”

Bucky followed his stare, giving a start when he found Ned looking up at him. “Crap Kid, warn a man.”

 Ned gave him a gummy smile. “Oooooh. Are y’all in looooove?”

Sam straight up guffawed. “Imma let you handle that,” he said, disappearing into his classroom like an asshole. “No, we’re not…” Bucky stumbled, awkward as fuck as Ned made kissy noises. “I was just talking to another teacher.”

“A teacher that you looooove.”

“No. What? Why are you out here?”

“I had to go to the bathroom.”

“Course you did. Well, you’re late. Get inside.”

“I can’t. You’re in the way.”

Bucky couldn’t exactly argue. He was indeed blocking the doorway. Instead, he stepped aside with a sweeping gesture, ruffling the kid’s hair because liked the little rascal.

Roll call revealed one absence for the day—Tandy Bowen. Bucky’s chest tightened because he knew. Melissa Bowen had dug deep, found the courage to make her escape. Tears burnt his eyes as he turned away, fists clenched as he sent a silent plea out into the universe for it all to work out. Please. Let them be okay. “Hey Ty, come help me staple, will you?” He called out once he’d collected himself. All the kids loved stapling (except for Peter, who predictably thought an accidental staple to the finger might kill him. They were working on it.), the task an honor they vied for.

“You okay, Mr. Barnes?” Tyrone asked, immediately sensing something was off. That same intuition had given Tandy a safe place when she needed it. Did he even know how special he was? And now, this kind-hearted boy had lost his best friend. Tyrone would probably never know why Tandy disappeared. The thought made Bucky incredibly sad.

“Just thinking. You’re a good kid, know that? With a good heart. I’m glad you’re here. In this class.”

Tyrone dipped his head, a lopsided grin barely visible as he got to work. “Its just stapling, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky grinned back. “Yeah, just stapling,” he said, leaving him to it, as he stood in front of the class. He blew his whistle for attention. “Today we’re starting with centers. You can pick which one you go to, but no more than three students in each one. Got it?”

“Yes, Mister Barnes,” came the throng of voices that didn’t sound nearly as creepy as it used to. Now he kinda liked it. He realized with another pang of melancholy he was going to miss this. Miss them. He watched them disperse to their chosen activity, MJ halting in front of him on her way to the reading corner.

“Hey Mr. B.”  When he crossed his arms over his chest and just stared, she groaned. “I mean Mr. Barnes.”

“Yes MJ?”

“So, there’s a carnival in town this week. Did you know that?”

“I did not.”

“And dad said we can go tonight, ‘cause he doesn’t want to wait ‘til Friday ‘cause there’s too many teenagers in this town and they’ll all be out looking for something to do. He doesn’t have time for all that.”

Bucky listened to the ramble, hiding a smile as MJ made Sam sound like a grumpy old man—not that Bucky disagreed. He wasn’t big on crowds or teenagers or the combination of them both either. “That sounds like it’s going to be fun.”

“Yep. You wanna go with us?”

There went Bucky’s heart, skip, skip, skipping a beat. “I mean, sure,” he answered immediately, not giving himself time to overthink it. Maybe it was wrong, tugging Sam and MJ this close under false pretenses; but Bucky had allowed himself so little joy in life he couldn’t bear to pull away now. “I mean, if it’s okay with your dad.”

“Would I be asking if it wasn’t?”

“You might,” he jibed playfully. When she nibbled her lip shyly, he felt himself going all doughy inside.

This…this was happiness. And it was fleeting. Natasha would have answers for him soon enough, and he was pretty sure he knew what they would be. Until then, he’d hold on just a little while longer.

Chapter Text

It came as no surprise to Sam that he and Bucky were the most popular people at the carnival, children from both their classes stopping to say hi and regale them with endless tales of the food they ate, the rides they rode, and the games they played. “Mr. Barnes! Mr. Wilson,” Kate shrieked from the face painting booth, her third greeting since they arrived. “Kate Bishop,” Sam called back, tone infused with enthusiasm as if this were the first time he’d seen her across the way. “Whatcha getting over there?”

“A butterfly on my whole face!”

“Your whole face? How am I gonna recognize you tomorrow if your whole face is covered?”

“I’ll look like a butterfly!”

“Ah, good point. Gotcha.”

“It’ll wash off in the bath,” MJ answered, all business as she picked at the cotton candy Bucky had bought for her and Sam to share. Somehow the bag kept finding its way into her hands instead of his. “Seems like a waste to me.”

Sam gave his practical daughter a playful nudge. “Well, it does,” she shrugged.

“Point is to have fun.”

“What’s fun about an itchy face?”

“I agree with her,” Bucky joined in.

“Of course you do.” Sam gave a rueful shake of his head, waving at Kate, who was still waving at them. “Be good, Katy-did!”

“Have fun. See you tomorrow, Kiddo,” Bucky added, having already said something similar twice before.

“Byeee!”

“These kids sure do like you,” Bucky mused as they moved along.

Sam grinned back. “Not just me. You know how it is. We’re elementary school teachers. That’s their version of a celebrity. We may as well be Beyoncé over here.” He paused, making a clucking noise with his tongue as he considered it. “Well, I may as well be Beyoncé. You’re more like Billie Eilish.”

Bucky wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not, because truthfully, he had no idea who Billie Eilish even was. “Can I be Lady Gaga instead?”

“No,” Sam deadpanned.

“I can’t believe you even asked that,” MJ said with a doleful sigh, as if Bucky was a lost cause.

“It’s…nice. How happy the kids are to see us,” Bucky remarked, features scrunching thoughtfully.

Sam found it adorable even as he side-eyed Bucky, things not adding up no matter how many times he hit reset on his mental calculator. High-schoolers were obviously a wildly different breed than five-six-and-seven-year-olds, but surely, they still enjoyed seeing their teachers out and about. Bucky acted as if spotting students outside of school was a situation he’d never navigated before. “I guess it’s different with older kids?”

Bucky ducked, staring at the ground instead of meeting Sam’s inquisitive gaze. “Yeah, you could say that.” The answer was as vague and non-committal as most of Bucky’s responses tended to be. Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that while everything was really, really good between them, something also wasn’t right. It was up to Sam to decide if the red flag was worth pursuing or not; so far, he couldn’t bring himself to dig much deeper than the surface. Not when Bucky looked like a dream and kissed like a demon, reawakening all of Sam’s dormant impulses.

“Hey MJ! Wanna do the petting zoo?” A tiny voice called out, this one male. Sam swung around to find Ned gesturing wildly to get her attention. Sam couldn’t help but notice Bucky suppressing a shudder.

“Nope, I’m all good over here,” MJ hollered back, stuffing another piece of cotton candy in her mouth.

“Give me that,” Sam grouched, making grabby hands at the sack while she giggled. “You sure?”

“I’m not about to let a sheep lick me,” MJ said as she relinquished the bag.

“Same Kid,” Bucky nodded, looking so serious Sam had the insane urge to poke at him to see if he’d break.

“You got something against petting zoos, Barnes?” Sam asked, entirely too comfortable winding through the carnival crowd with MJ on one side, Bucky on the other. He could get used to this, a pointless endeavor since Bucky hadn’t once mentioned staying.

“C’mon Sam, ever heard of E. coli?”

“That took a turn,” Sam replied, wide-eyed. “You know that’s rare, right? If proper precautions are in place.”

Bucky snorted, unimpressed. “Yeah, if.” He leaned around Sam to address MJ. “Good call.”

“Like I’m trusting these people, please.” MJ sniffed.

Sam shook his head. The two of them together were a recipe for chaos. He shouldn’t want it as much as he did. He was about to change the subject when his eyes trailed over to the pen full of goats, pigs, and sheep. He came to an abrupt stop. “You are not gonna believe this. In fact, it’s better if you don’t look right now.”

Bucky frowned. “Okay Sam, if you tell me not to look, you know I have to look. What is it? Please, don’t tell me Kate’s mother is coming this way.”

“What’s wrong with Kate’s mother?” MJ asked, not missing a thing no matter how hushed Bucky’s voice was.

“She’s got a crush on Bucky, but you’re not allowed to repeat that.”

“Oh, well, hasn’t she figured out that Bucky has a crush on you?”

Bucky’s ears turned a bold shade of red. “Really M?”

“Like it’s a secret? You don’t think it’s a secret, do you?”

Sam pursed his lips to conceal his delight at Bucky getting out-maneuvered by his five-year-old. Damn, his daughter was brilliant.

“Can we just get back to what I’m not supposed to be looking at?” Bucky grumbled, exasperated.

“You’re not going to like it,” Sam said.

“As opposed to this? Because I’m really loving this, lemme tell ya.”

“Damn, all right Sarcasm. You can reel that right back in.”

“Dollar for the jar, Dad,” MJ said tugging on his shirt a split second before she tugged on the bag of cotton candy.

“If you get a stomachache before bed tonight, don’t come crying to me.”

“Of course I’m crying to you. Who else am I gonna cry to,” MJ countered, completely unaffected by the threat because she knew her Dad always had her.

Sam turned to his date. “Okay Buck, I need you to stay calm and keep an open mind.”

“Is a clown coming this way?”

Sam blinked at that bit of Bucky-lore. All right then. “No, but your fear of clowns is duly noted.”

“I didn’t say I was scared of clowns.”

“I don’t think you had to,” Sam said, scratching his chin as he sized the other man up. “Okay, before you turn and look, I feel like I need to give you a little warning here.” He dropped his voice to a low rumble. “If you get E. coli you will die.”

“If I get E. coli, I will…” the sentence trailed off as Bucky swung around, his gaze narrowing dangerously when he took in the petting zoo where Ned and Peter were busy vying for a baby goat’s attention.

“You have got to be kidding me!” He hissed as Peter leaned in close to the animal. “Now, he lets his guard down? Now? Today? This very minute?”

“Yep,” Sam crowed, borderline gleeful over the whole ordeal because Bucky truly looked ready to swoop in and scoop Peter up. He latched onto his arm, just in case. “And you can’t even say anything either, because that right there is what we call progress.”

“The wrong kind of progress!”

“Says you.”

“Stop enjoying this so much,” Bucky groaned.

“You have to admit, it’s kinda funny. You been trying to get Peter to be brave since you landed in that classroom. Then, he goes and picks the one thing that stresses you out.”

“I’m not stressed.”

“You sure? You seem a little bent out of shape over there, Bud.”

“I hate my life sometimes,” Bucky pouted. Sam didn’t believe it for a minute, not with that beaming look he kept tossing their way. “Is there sanitizer over there? There better be sanitizer over there. I’m gonna go take him some-”

Sam pressed his arm. “No, you’re not. And yes, there is a hand washing station. See?”

“What if he forgets?”

“You really think that kid is gonna forget to wash his hands?”

“Look Sam, I didn’t expect to see him cuddling a goat either, but that’s where we are in life. And maybe we ought not take chances.”

“Damn, you’re cute.”

“That’s another dollar in the jar, Dad.”

“The jar?” Bucky asked.

“The bad word jar.”

“Worth it,” Sam said, all bright-eyed and dashing. “Let’s get Bucky away from the petting zoo before he stages a protest, all right?”

“I’m just saying, it’s hard to trust the sanitation procedures of a random carnival in Podunk, Oregon that’s all.”

“It’s not like you like ‘em either, Dad,” MJ tossed in, completely selling him out, because that’s what children did. “Where’d ya think I get it from? He wouldn’t even let me pet Kate’s bunny rabbit at her birthday party.”

“That thing was gonna bite,” Sam argued. “I could see it in his eyes. No, don’t look at me like that.” He bristled as Bucky’s shoulders shook with amusement. “It’s different. Besides you’re the one who brought a stray cat to your classroom, like you didn’t find her under a bush.” He turned back to his daughter. “A stray cat I let you pet by the way, so I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Alpine is not a stray cat. She’s family.”

“Yeah Dad. That’s different.”

“Unbelievable,” Sam groused, shoving a piece of cotton candy past his lips. Bucky looked a little hypnotized as it melted on Sam’s tongue. Sam didn’t mind it.

“We should…keep moving,” Bucky said, distracted by Sam’s mouth.

“Where you wanna go, Buck?” Sam questioned, a shade coy, but not enough for MJ to notice.

“Any where you wanna go, Sam,” he returned huskily.

“Can we get pizza?” MJ interjected, cutting through the simmering heat, because she was five and thankfully couldn’t read a room. Damn, Sam wanted this man. Meant to have him, too.

“You just ate a whole bag of cotton candy,” Sam chided.

“Not a whoooole bag. And those are empty calories anyway.”

“A kid needs real food, Sam,” Bucky agreed.

“You’re suddenly an expert?” Sam argued on principle.

“Pizza’s our thing, Dad, remember?” she said, as if he was too scattered to recall them eating it together the week prior.

“We have a thing now? Since when do we have a thing? You going to help me out here?” Sam asked Bucky, who just stood there affectionately soaking up the entire conversation, looking all soft and joyous. Sam didn’t mind that either. “Well, all right then. I guess it’s my treat. Since we have a thing.”

After feasting on pizza and fresh-squeezed lemonade, they checked out the rides and played a few games. Bucky and Sam found themselves roped into partnering for a three-legged sack race as MJ cheered them on. When they crashed to the ground seconds away from victory, Bucky rolled onto his back, out of breath from laughing. “We lost,” he said mournfully as Sam hovered over him.

“Sure about that?” Sam asked, leaning down to place a fleeting, nipping kiss on the side of his mouth. A nothing sort of peck that nevertheless made Bucky’s cheeks flush and his eyes darken with desire.

“I’m probably gonna have issues over this one day,” MJ announced gravely as she peered down at them. “Maybe you better head that off and buy me a pony?”

“Nice try. No,” Sam said firmly. “Now help your, ol’ Dad up.”

“Ugh, you’re heavy.”

“That’s solid muscle.”

Once they had dusted off, handing the sack off to the next victims, they looked around for a new adventure. “MJ! Come ride the Ferris wheel with me!” Monica hurried toward them, Maria lagging because she was lugging around two stuffed animals, a bag of popcorn, and a milkshake.

“Need a hand? Sam asked, entertained as she balanced a large stuffed dinosaur on her hip like it was a toddler.

“Carol keeps winning me stuff.”

“My moms are so dumb over each other,” Monica whispered loudly to MJ as if her mom didn’t have ears.

“I get it,” MJ nodded sagely.

“You don’t get anything,” Sam objected.

“I know you changed shirts five times before we left the house.”

“Did he now?” Bucky smirked as Sam sputtered.

“You’re grounded,” Sam declared, before turning to Bucky. “And so are you.”

“From what exactly?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Looks like things are going well here,” Maria chimed in, glancing between them. “Is that banter I detect?”

“Do not be insufferable right now,” Sam grumbled.

“I’m just making an observation. Someone’s feeling sensitive.”

Sam decided to ignore her ribbing, turning to the girls. “Feeling better Mon-Mon?”

Monica grabbed MJ’s hand, pulling her close. It warmed Sam’s heart, how good the older girl was to his daughter. “Mmm hmm. Got all better after Mom made me take the yucky medicine.”

“Same,” MJ said with a quick nod, adding her own war story. “That stuff is so gross.”

“But it works. I only missed one day of school.”

“I didn’t miss any, ‘cause I was sick over the weekend.”

“Lucky.”

“I thought kids wanted to miss school?” Bucky asked.

“No way,” Monica answered.

“Bucky, you don’t know anything about kids or school,” MJ sighed. Sam might have admonished her, but it was oddly true, and he believed in picking his battles.

“Guess not,” Bucky quipped. “I guess that’s what happens when you’re homeschooled in the wild.” Four sets of eyes stared back at him. “Good times,” Bucky added sheepishly.

“That took yet another turn,” Sam murmured, filing the information away to ask about later. “Multitudes.”

“Hmm?” Bucky asked.

“Oh brother.”  Maria rolled her eyes.

“Mr. Sam, can MJ ride the Ferris wheel with me?”

“Can I, Dad? Please?”

Sam glanced at Maria, who waved off the question in his gaze. “Go on, Sam. You know I’ve got her. You two have fun.” Her sharp eyes settled right on Bucky in silent warning not to screw this up.

Sam placed his arm around Bucky’s back to lead him away before Maria scared him off. Because they hadn’t had enough junk, Bucky sprung for a bag of kettle corn as they walked around the carnival, chatting animatedly, Bucky erupting into laughter at Sam’s stories more than once. Sam had a feeling that Bucky didn’t laugh a lot, something he aimed to remedy if given the chance. He threw a piece of popcorn at him, opening his mouth and effortlessly catching the piece Bucky threw in retaliation.

“Show off.” He nudged him, stepping impossibly closer, Sam soaking up the comforting warmth as they walked side by side, arms brushing. “Thirsty?”

“That a come on?”

Bucky snickered. “No, an honest question. We just ate a lot of kettle corn. I’ll get us some more lemonade.”

“Told you we should have shared that souvenir cup.”

“That thing was huge, Sam.”

“And yet here we are, parched, ‘bout to be out five more bucks. Maybe next time you’ll listen.”

Bucky opened his mouth to complain, but stopped, searching Sam’s eyes for a soulful moment. “Maybe next time I will.”

Next time. Sam heard the promise in his words, the gravity in his tone. Oh, how he hoped there would indeed be a next time. “Miiiiister Wilson,” an eager voice interrupted the charged silence. Sam turned in time to see Joaquín running from the carousel as fast as little legs would take him.

“You take care of that. I’ll go find the lemonade,” Bucky said with a wink, leaving Sam to it.

“Mister Wilson, did you see me? I got to ride the dragon!” What he hoped would be a short exchange with a beloved student turned into a lengthier conversation once Joaquín’s abuela joined them. He finally managed to break away after a few minutes, scanning the crowd for his date.

The smile that immediately hit his face upon finding Bucky dimmed when he noticed the man wasn’t alone. He stood with his sister off to the side of the lemonade booth, having an intense debate over something. Where had Natasha even come from? Dread pooled in Sam’s stomach as he watched Bucky grab her arm and steer them toward the side, out of sight of the carnival.

Sam hesitated, torn between minding his own and the crippling certainty that something was wrong. Even though he obviously wanted privacy for whatever conversation they were having, Bucky might need him. For Sam that possibility was worth the risk of Bucky being upset at him for interfering.

He carefully approached, rounding the side of the food truck they’d disappeared behind, just barely able to make out the pair of clipped voices.

“You couldn’t wait for this? You had to do this here?” Bucky vented.

“Yes, because you said you wanted to know as soon as possible. And I wanted an Italian Ice,” Nat snipped. Sam had just decided to backtrack and leave them to whatever weird sibling dynamic this was, when Nat continued. “I know this is hard on you, James. But I didn’t want to just text you. And it would be better for you to talk to Sam about it tonight than to wait until after school tomorrow. You said yourself, the longer we sit on it, the more dangerous it is.”

Dangerous?

“Sit on what? Talk to me about what?” Sam stepped out of the shadows. Eavesdropping wasn’t his style, and he wasn’t about to walk away when they were openly discussing him. He watched the color drain from Bucky’s face, something akin to guilt flashing in those stone blue eyes. Sam’s chest felt heavy as Bucky hung his head, shoulders sagging in defeat. What the hell?

“Fuck Sam,” he whispered on the tail-end of a harsh, desperate exhale.

“Talk to me,” Sam demanded, thoughts whirling all over the place as he took in Bucky’s dejected pose.

With a grim nod, Bucky managed a deep, fortifying breath, forcing himself to meet Sam’s steady stare. “Maybe…maybe we better get out of here. You think Dr. Rambeau could watch MJ for a bit?”

MJ. Sam’s gut churned at the mention of her name, shoulders hunching as arms crossed protectively over his abdomen, guarding himself…guarding his secrets. He suddenly felt numb all over, except for the relentless stabbing sensation spearing through his stubborn heart. “Nah, we’re good here, thanks.”

“Sam. Please.”

“Bucky, see, you’re really kinda scaring the shit out of me. And the longer you draw this out, the worse it’s gonna get. So how about you just come out with it, and we go from there?” He turned to Nat, but she just shook her head and looked away.

“Okay. Okay.” Bucky moistened his lips. “I don’t know how else to do this. I’m just gonna say it and you’re gonna hate it. And please, just…” Bucky raked a hand through his hair. Normally Sam found it sexy as hell, but now not so much, cold fingers of apprehension too busy tearing at his insides. “Just hear me out, okay? Just, just let me explain. I swear I can. And-”

“Bucky, for fuck’s sake,” Nat bit out, somehow sounding calming even as she berated him. “Just tell him, okay?”

“Fine, fuck, fine. I’m not a teacher, okay? I work as a rewardist.”

Sam nodded, though he had no idea why. Bucky not being a teacher…that…that actually made sense. The man knew fuck-all about kids, after all. The rest…not so much. What the hell was a rewardist? “Okay, that’s a made-up job.”

“Not really. I—we—” Bucky stopped to gesture between himself and Natasha. “We track people for a living. Missing people. And collect the reward. Sharon Carter hired us to find you.”

“Well, I’m not missing.” Sam ignored the heartbeat thrashing in his ears, jaw clenched, tone level. “And I’ve never heard that name in my life.”

Bucky visibly swallowed, the agony in his eyes wrenching. “What about the name Brock Rumlow?”

Sam flinched, his vision going spotty as the name hung between them for a devastating moment. He held the surge of adrenaline in check, thoughts racing even as he projected rigid calm. “I don’t know who that is either.” He faked a casual shrug even as his mind screamed at him to find MJ and run. Fucking run, process the rest of this shit later. “And I don’t really care who that is. Or what this is about. You…” He swallowed past the lump of terror, pain erupting in his chest. His lungs. His throat. Every-fucking-where. But he couldn’t show it. Couldn’t feel it. “You made this weird. You ‘n me, it’s probably best we don’t see each other again.”

“Sam, I tied your ex back to him,” Natasha interjected. Sam glanced between the two, Nat’s sharp gaze, Bucky’s shuttered one. It was painfully obvious that they weren’t siblings. Sam didn’t know what they were to each other. Only that they had lied about everything, and Sam was a fucking fool.

Don’t engage. Grab Michelle and run, his brain commanded. But any sudden action would give himself away. His only chance of salvaging this situation was to stay serene. “Who Faith dated before we got together was no business of mine.”

“You knew right away I was talking about Faith,” Nat continued, a little sadly, as if she hated calling him on the error.

“Faith is my only significant ex,” he rallied coolly. “Of course you meant her.”

“She was already pregnant when you married her.”

He backed away. “I’m not doing this. I don’t have to do this.”

“Please Sam.” Bucky rasped. “Just stop. Hear us out here, please.”

 And Sam knew. Dammit, he knew. There was no getting out of this. No stopping this, the hedge of protection he’d tricked himself into believing he’d erected around MJ tumbling with shattering certainty. “Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong.” Betrayal raged through him when Bucky took a step forward. “Don’t,” he snarled, the feral furl of wrath leaden in his belly as he glowered at the man who had almost meant something. Who had almost meant too much. Now…now he was nothing to Sam.

Sam’s life was on fire and Bucky had lit the fucking match. “Brock Rumlow hired you to find me?” He choked past the anguish.

“No Sam. Fuck no! Not that. Sharon Carter is his sister.” When Sam stumbled back, Bucky rushed to continue. “She’s an agent and wants to help you.”

“An agent for what? The government? An agent for the government wants to help me?” Sam sneered. “Help how? By stealing my daughter? Cause that’s what this is about, right?”

“We’re not cops. We don’t work for the cops,” Nat replied softly. “We work for people.”

“People who want to take my daughter from me.” Sam shoved Bucky’s arm away when he tried to reach out, seething with barely contained fury. Tears burnt his throat but fuck if he was going to cry in front of this bastard. “Don’t. You don’t get to touch me right now. You don’t get to touch me ever. What? This was all a lie so you could help someone come in and take her away from me?”

“Sam, I would never do that. I would never do that.”

“Yeah, I don’t believe you.”

Bucky gripped his forehead, looking as tormented as Sam felt. Fuck that. Bucky could fuck all the way off with his lying bullshit. “We’re here to help. I know that’s hard to believe at the moment, but we are. Rumlow is due to get out. He knows where you are. He knows that MJ is his daughter-”

“MJ is not his daughter.” Sam interrupted with steely authority. “MJ is my daughter. I am her father, and nobody is taking her from me.” He’d burn the world down to protect his little girl.

“We don’t want that.”

“Fuck you. I don’t believe you. You stay away from me. You stay away from MJ. I mean it, Bucky. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

He didn’t wait for a response, turning to make his escape.

He had to find MJ.

He had to run.