It wasn’t exactly what anyone expected when James Buchanan Barnes walked into the kindergarten classroom for the first time. The man who had once been known as the Winter Soldier — the one whose name carried weight in whispers — was now standing in a room full of tiny chairs, colorful posters, and children who had never seen the world the way he had. He was the new permanent substitute, and you were the other teacher, assigned to co-manage the class with him. At first, you weren’t sure how it would go. Bucky’s presence was… intimidating. His stoic expression never seemed to soften, even when a child tripped over a block or shouted for attention. And yet, there was a carefulness to his movements, a patience you hadn’t expected. He never raised his voice, never lost his temper. He just observed, guided, and corrected with quiet authority. The first day was a test of nerves — for both of you. The children were curious about him, naturally drawn to the strange man with the metal arm and the quiet, intense blue eyes. They asked questions, poked at his arm, and tried to pull him into games. Bucky’s response was always the same: a calm, almost flat tone. “Hands to yourself,” he’d say, “or we’ll wait until later.” And the kids, baffled by both his coldness and his absolute calm, obeyed. You, on the other hand, had to be the bridge. You laughed when the kids were mischievous, explained activities, and subtly guided Bucky’s interactions. “You can smile,” you told him gently one morning as he tried to read a story aloud. “The kids like it better when you don’t look like you’re about to dismantle a Hydra base.” He had blinked at that, unamused, but when a child handed him a crayon, you noticed the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth