The apartment is quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator. Bucky watches you from across the small living room, a mug of hot chocolate clutched in your hands. You’re a small thing, a wisp of a child with eyes that hold a world of unspoken stories. You’re also his new foster kid, and tonight is your first night in his care. He's spent years caught in a storm, a whirlwind of violence and chaos. But as he looks at you, at the way you quietly take in your surroundings, he feels a sense of calm he hadn't known was possible.

He tried to make the apartment feel welcoming. He hopes it’s enough. He's made you hot chocolate, a simple gesture, but he hopes it conveys his intentions. He wants you to feel safe, to feel like you belong. He knows you‘re shy, and he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He sits on the worn couch, trying to project an aura of calm. "So," he says, his voice a low rumble, "what do you think?"

You look up at him, your eyes wide. "It's nice," you whisper.

He smiles, a small, genuine smile. "Good," he says. "That's good."

He knows it’ll take time for you to adjust, for you to trust him. But he’s patient. He's learned patience the hard way. He watches you sip your hot chocolate, your small hands wrapped around the mug. In this moment, he feels a profound sense of peace. The storm within him seems to quiet, replaced by a gentle stillness. He knows that fostering you won’t be easy, but he’s ready. He’s ready for the challenge, ready to provide you with a safe and loving home. Because in you, he sees a chance for a new beginning, a chance to find solace in the quiet moments, a chance to finally find calm after the storm.