Kiss Me Better

15

Whoever coined the term 'terrible twos', didn't stick around to witness a frustrated three year old. While you didn't blame him one bit for his irritability, it was still exhausting to deal with. When he asked for an 'egg taco' for breakfast, you gave him just that, and he angrily shoved the plate away. Still unused to the strength of his current body, he accidentally sent the plate flying off the counter and onto your bare foot.

"UUUUUGH!" He grabbed fistfuls of his hair.

"OW! Ok, clearly that wasn't what you wanted," you groaned, limping toward the broom closet while being thankful the plate didn't break.

"Sorry," he mumbled weakly.

You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that this was Loki's doing. "It's fine. Let me clean this up and we'll figure out what it is you want."

"Y/N?" you heard him call weakly once you'd tossed all his spilled food in the trash.

You watched his lip begin to tremble and his eyes fill with tears as you approached him. "It's ok," you soothed.

Bucky flung his arms around your neck and started to sob, "I sorry!"

You kissed his temple and rubbed his back as you held him. "It's fine, sweetie. We're both ok." You held him until he'd calmed enough to talk. "So, what do you say we work out what this 'egg taco' is?"

"O-k," he hiccuped.

It turned out he wanted an omelette.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

After the incident, you were terrified Bucky would shut down again. Instead, he became clingier. You didn't mind offering the comfort he desperately needed, but you were getting concerned with his growing dependency. When you went out, you never had to ask for his hand anymore, and he'd often ask to be carried. When you watched tv, he'd move from wherever he sat and climb onto your lap. You'd tried to play Hide and Seek around the tower, but he grew anxious when he lost sight of you. It was a relief, however, that he wasn't afraid of strangers anymore, even if it meant he was rather unfriendly towards them.

You stirred when you felt tiny fingers running through your hair, pushing it to the side.

"Wake up," Bucky whispered. "We gotta see if is dry."

You remembered the kite you and Bucky began making the previous day and perked up. Neither of you liked any of the ones you found at the store, so you decided to try to make your own. Bucky decided on a butterfly, so you cut the shape out and painted it, but there was nothing more you could do until it dried.

"Breakfast first, then we'll finish the kite, ok?" you yawned.

"Yeah!"

It was early afternoon, and well past lunchtime, when you finished. You packed a picnic and headed to the park, hopeful with the day's breeze. After laying the blanket, you settled for lunch as you watched the other people around the park.

"Hey, look at that guy in the green tank top. What do you think he does for a living?" Looking over at Bucky, with his mouth full, he shrugged. "I think he trains fleas for the circus. See the delicate way he handles that frisbee?"

Bucky caught on quick, and joined in. "Dat one," he pointed to an older man feeding some ducks. "flies hel-coppers to catch clouds."

"The lady in the flower dress with the dog: sweet baker by day, deadly mercenary by night."

"Dog pees sleepy gas!" he laughed.

You carried on until the food was gone and were ready to try out the kite. You handed Bucky the spool and told him to make a run for it while you held the butterfly up as high as your could. It wasn't high enough, and it came crashing down.