Little Secrets, Little Bucky

Something New

Saturday came far quicker than Bucky thought it would. He'd thought about canceling, about running away and changing his name, he'd even thought about faking his own death. But despite his embarrassment and anxiety about what was about to happen, he couldn't deny the part of himself that desperately wanted this. He couldn't stop thinking about the way that she'd held him through the storm, carefully like he was something precious and worth protecting. A far cry from how anyone else had ever treated him while he was little.

And so he tentatively entered Y/n's suite, unsure of what would happen. He had texted her a few minutes ago that he had showered and would be over soon but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was invading her space. He called out for her and she answered that she'd be out of her room in a minute and told him to take a seat in the living room. He sat on the couch, setting his blanket aside for later. While he waited for her he took a look around the room.

There was music playing, and he realized that Y/n probably made a specific playlist for when he was little. There were a few bags sitting on the kitchen island that he assumed were groceries and he could see a couple of colorful dishes drying on the dish rack. His eyes widened at the realization that there was a sippy cup among them and he felt his cheeks redden, both at the knowledge that he would be expected to use it, and the fact that he wasn't all that upset about it.

He looked away from the dishes, distracting himself and noticed a bin that hadn't been there last time he was. It was made of dark blue fabric and had an outline of a gold star on the front. He looked over his shoulder, ensuring that Y/n wasn't coming out anytime soon and listened carefully to pick up a bit of her conversation with her brother. He caught a quip about Sam's wings and knew he had time to look before she'd be done.

He sat on the floor in front of the box and carefully removed the lid. What was inside made him gasp in awe. The mysterious bin was a toy box, filled with things that had obviously been lovingly chosen with him in mind. He saw a picture book version of the Hobbit, a small dome who's packaging proudly proclaimed it could project constellations onto the ceiling, a white stuffed wolf, a Lord Of The Rings coloring book-

"You like it?"

Bucky jumped up and closed the box, stammering out apologies as he sat back down on the couch. He hadn't meant to ruin the surprise. Y/n was probably pissed at him now, and he hadn't even gotten into his headspace yet. God why couldn't he control himself? Why couldn't he just sit and wait for her without ruining everything? He was so fucking useless, no wonder no one had ever treated him this way before. He didn't fucking deserve it.

"Hey," her words jolted him out of his spiral of self hatred, "hey, it's ok. There's nothing to apologize for." She wasn't angry?

"But I didn't ask." Didn't she understand what he had done?

"It's yours Buck, you don't have to ask." She had spent hours shopping over the last few days, painstakingly choosing things that she felt he would like. Could she have just grabbed a few random toys and supplies off the shelves and been fine? Probably. But she knew how anxious Bucky was about their new arrangement and hoped that the carefully chosen items could serve as a tangible reminder that she was serious about doing it right. That she wanted to take care of him and give him a safe place to be as little as he wanted for as long as he needed it.

"So you're not upset?" He asked, needing her to say it out loud before he could relax.

"I promise," she said, sitting on the ground by the box. "I'm not mad at you, not even a little bit." She understood his need for reassurance and smiled at him as he sighed in relief. "C'mere, I wanna know which ones you like the best."

He lowered himself to the ground beside her and reached for the stuffed wolf, glancing at her to ensure that he could take it out of the box. She smiled encouragingly at him and he lifted it out, cradling it close to his chest. It was soft, and somehow already smelled like Y/n just like his stuffed dog did. He was a little ashamed of the fact that he'd spent every night that week clutching that dog to his chest. He found the smell of Y/n comforting and the dog was somehow far less embarrassing than asking her for one of her sweatshirts or blankets.