Bucky Barnes never expected to have a kid.

He’s never had a real relationship outside of whatever the hell his co-dependence on Steve Rogers is, and he can barely keep himself together after everything that’s happened, let alone parent a child.

So when you, the newest and youngest member of the Avengers, latches onto him like a leech, he’s surprised, to say the least. He’s a dark, brooding type of guy, not exactly the kind that exudes friendliness and warmth. Steve is the opposite— he’s a natural leader, a man amongst mice, kind and understanding and courageous. Bucky tenses at every noise, every too-fast movement. Trauma and hurt is written across his body like a storybook.

And yet, for some reason, you begin to follow him around like a lost duckling. You become his shadow, as if you’re a kitten and he’s some kind of mother cat.

You’re so much younger than the others, not even out of your teens, and your powers are still developing. You aren’t experienced enough yet to be out fighting crime with Tony or Peter or Natasha, so you mostly just stay at the Avenger’s Tower and pester Bucky…

“I don’t understand why they do it, Steve!” Bucky exclaims in discomfort, as Steve chuckles over the latest offering you’ve left for the ex-HYDRA agent: a cookie from the lunch that Pepper Potts brought you earlier.

“Bucky, it’s ‘cuz they like you,” Steve says good-naturedly. “They just want some attention from you.”

“But, Steve, you don’t get it, they’re driving me crazy. It’s like I have a stalker! They’re damn quiet, and every time I turn around, they’re just there.” Bucky sinks into a chair, fingers absently tracing his cybernetic prosthetic arm. He winces as an ache of phantom pain throbs through the long-healed joint. “It’s frayin’ my nerves, Steve.”

Steve sighs, and sits down beside him, handing him the cookie. “Here, come on. Eat your cookie and just settle down.”

Bucky hesitates, but takes the proffered treat. He just stares down at it. “I feel so stupid, Steve. They’re just a little kid, but they just sit and stare at me, and I don’t understand it. Why do they wanna be around me?”

“I told you, it’s because they like you.” Steve gently clasps Bucky’s shoulder. “Believe it or not, you’re good company, Bucks. Try to make the most of it. The kid doesn’t have anybody but us.”

As if called, you pop up around the corner, bundled up in a hoodie that’s multiple sizes too large — probably one of Tony’s — and toting a bag of spare parts, bits and bobs of no real value or use from Bruce’s lab. They rattle as you scurry into the room.

“Bucky! You found the cookie! Have you eaten it yet? Do you like it? I saved it for you! Do you want to watch a movie with me? Or we could play a game! Or are you busy? Oh, hi, Steve! Am I bothering you? Are you guys having a moment?”