Chapter Text
The base they're coming up on is one Bucky isn't particularly familiar with. That isn't such a surprise, honestly. There were thousands or hundreds of thousands of HYDRA bases all over the world, and he'd seen, perhaps, only a fraction of them during his tenure as their pet asset. Not that he particularly enjoys remembering those times, but he does what he needs to, remembers what he needs to remember, for the sake of their missions. It's never easy, and he never likes parsing through those bloody, cold memories, but he does it. It's a sacrifice he's willing to make. More so when one of his teammates are in danger. But while this base is one of the few he has been to before, his memories of it are dim and distant. Not old, he doesn't think, but fuzzy, somehow, in a way he is unfamiliar with.
“Something's...wrong,” he says slowly, quietly. Natasha is the closest to him, the one who turns her head ever so slightly to indicate she's actively listening. “I've been here, but I can't remember it. Not the details.”
“Not all of your memories have returned,” she offers as a possible explanation.
Bucky shakes his head. “That's not it. There's...a haze? The memories I recover are perfectly clear. You know that.” She concedes the point. He'd remembered more about the Red Room than she had, after all. They'd twisted her memories of the place, too, and it was only through his perfect recall that she was able to realize the pair of them never actually had a sexual relationship, that she'd never actually been any sort of ballerina. “These memories were tampered with, but not by the chair.”
“There's magic here,” Wanda reports. Red sparks dance from her fingers, and she frowns down at her hands. “The same kind of magic as mine, but...different.”
“More abilities born from the mind gem,” Vision states with a pensive frown. The synthezoid has gotten better at displaying more complex emotions, but it's still a work in progress. “I can...feel them. Like calls to like.”
“That memory of yours, Buck,” Steve says, “about this place. You have anything we can work with?”
“Yellow mist,” Bucky says with a frown, then shakes his head. “I know the layout of the building well enough. The blueprints help, but I can...I can see the halls and the rooms, now. They did experiments here.” He jerks his chin at Wanda. “Probably making more people like her.” He and Wanda have a complicated relationship that's mostly solved by staying as far from each other as they can get. Typically, they wouldn't even go on the same mission together. So few threats require the entire team, after all.
This time, they weren't leaving anything to chance. It's been three weeks since Tony was kidnapped. They'd been on a different mission, with different priorities, and the HYDRA agents had swarmed him while he was out of his suit to strip down their databanks and some equipment to make it safe to transport. The recovered footage FRIDAY had pulled showed that there was a bright yellow flash of light before the agents, and Tony, had vanished. Tony may have been notoriously good at getting himself unkidnapped, but they'd seen nor heard nothing from him, and they hadn't stopped looking. This was, most likely, the right place. If it wasn't, they'd try again, but they were getting more and more desperate as time went by.
Clint lands the quinjet without issue, the new cloaking technology Tony had invented and installed before the kidnapping preventing anyone in the base from registering their presence. It was brilliant tech, and Bucky longed to sit Tony down and make him explain how it worked. Maybe he'd get the chance to do that to keep Tony busy while he was in recovery. No way would anyone let him skip medical and jump right back into missions after something like this, even with an extremely modified Extremis pumping through his veins.
Storming the base with two super soldiers, two magic users, Sam, and Clint, takes far less time than it really should, Bucky thinks. No one was at all prepared for them. Bucky tries to remember to use non lethal shots as he takes out the HYDRA scum, but, well, he's not overly concerned when he ‘forgets,’ either. At least Steve doesn't call him out on it. The two of them wound up paired together as they ran through the base ahead of the others, ‘tanking’ their way through, as Tony would have described it. God, Bucky misses him.
The HYDRA forces thin considerably the deeper they go underground. Not a surprise, not really, considering they'd thrown so many troops at them initially. Yet Bucky expected more. A growing sense of dread builds in his stomach as they go down to the last level of the bunker. He slows considerably. Steve notices and matches his pace, the grip on his shield tightening.
“Buck? What's going on?” Steve asks in an undertone.
“This was where they did the experiments,” Bucky says lowly. He grimaces and shakes his head a little, trying to clear the fog in his mind. “Fuck. I don't remember. Not what they did.” They clear the first three rooms without issue. Bucky shoots the targets with extreme prejudice - two chest shots and a headshot for each, uncaring of the looks Steve is sending his way. He...probably could stop himself, but he doesn't care to. Why should he? They're HYDRA; they don't deserve his mercy. They certainly never had any for him.
The fourth room isn't the last room for them to clear, but that's where everything happens. Steve breaks in first, forcing the door and letting Bucky cover him. Bucky takes out two agents, but the third, a young man with short, curly blond hair, vanishes in the haze of yellow before Bucky can get more than one round in him. He knows he shot the man, but he knows it wasn't lethal, not entirely. Without medical treatment, it will be, but Bucky has very few doubts that one of HYDRA's prized assets will receive prime medical care.
Then Bucky hears the screaming. It isn't a man's panicked screams, nor a woman’s. He turns slowly, lowering his gun. Those are a child's screams, and dread has made his guts turn to water. Steve is standing over the kid, trying to placate him while struggling with the heavy cuffs around the kid's wrists. The kid is struggling to get away from Steve, though, the sound and pitch of his screams becoming louder and higher as Steve goes from pleading with the kid to be still to ordering him.
“Stevie, back away from him,” Bucky says in a low, quiet voice. He knows, knows , he looks far less friendly than Steve, with no less than three guns strapped to his back, two on each thigh beside two sets of knives, another gun at the small of his back, one on his left ankle with a larger trench knife on his right ankle. There's black greasepaint smeared under his eyes that makes him look like a racoon, and his hair, while mostly scraped back from his face in a tight ponytail, has come loose in thick chunks and is heavy with blood and sweat. The heavy black boots, black tac gear, and shining metal arm are nothing that will ever endear him to a child, but he can't let Steve stand there and terrify the kid any worse.
“Buck -”
“Move,” Bucky snaps, low and vicious. Steve drops his hands and takes two large steps back, hands up in a show of surrender. It's only a show, and mostly for Bucky, but he doesn't care. He crouches low, still several feet from the kid. The kid's screaming has dropped off to soft whimpers. He's curled up in the far corner, his back pressed to the wall and his cuffed arms wrapped uncomfortably around his knees, which are smushed into his skinny chest. His huge brown eyes are ringed with thick, dark lashes that are clumped together with tears.
“Hey kid,” Bucky says quietly. He doesn't reach out, doesn't move forward. “My name is Bucky. That's Steve. I'm sorry he scared you. He was trying to get those cuffs off your arms.” He nods at the boy's arms. “Can't be comfortable, with you all smushed up like that.”
The boy shakes his head, then wipes his tear-streaked cheeks on his shoulders. The little blue tee shirt he's wearing is, Bucky notices belatedly, stained with blood. It doesn't look fresh, which is a small blessing, but he can't be sure since he can't see all of the kid. “That's - that's Captain America.” He whispers this like it's a great secret, probably doesn't realize Steve isn't far enough away to even need his serum to hear him. Bucky nods slowly. The kid lowers his head and peers at Bucky through black, messy curls limp with sweat and grease. “He - he’ll hurt me. Dad said. When he caught me in his lab. Said he'd find Cap special, just to get me.”
“Stevie, get Nat,” Bucky says, voice tight. He's dreading the realization he's just made.
“Buck, you know I'd never -” Steve tries to argue. He sounds wrecked and horribly distressed.
“Not the time,” Bucky says, turning to look at Steve. “Get Nat, get out, finish clearing this place.” Steve nods miserably, obviously missing Bucky's subtle hand signals. Whatever. Natasha will understand. He turns his attention to the kid as soon as Steve leaves. “Tell ya a secret, kiddo. I can make Stevie do whatever I want.”
“You're Bucky,” the boy whispers with wide eyes. Bucky's eyes go wide, too, not expecting that at all . “You're Captain America’s best friend. You - you're the best sniper, like ever. I liked you best. Dad - Dad said you was a coward, for shooting people so far away, but I didn't.” The boy leans forward just a little, eyes wide with curiosity now. “They said you died.” He lowers his voice dramatically. “Are you a zombie ?”
Bucky grins broadly and holds out his metal hand a bit, just to show it off. “Not quite, but I'm part robot now.” The boy's eyes are so big, it's a wonder they don't pop out of his head. “If you'll let me take those cuffs off ya, I'll let you look at my arm. Sound fair?”
The boy shrinks back again immediately, the curiosity turning to fear. “It hurts,” he says timidly. “When...when they take ‘em off.” He sniffs a little. “There's an electric current running through them. I couldn't let Captain America break them. The shock’ll kill me. I'm too little. They had a special key. I dunno where it is, though. I tried to pick the lock, once, but I shocked myself really bad, and…” He drops his eyes to the floor and curls even tighter around himself. “It made me pee my pants. They didn't like that.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Bucky says with a nod. “We'll find the key, promise.” It takes nearly all his control to keep his voice soft and even when he just wants to rage against the assholes who thought it was okay to put a little kid in electric magcuffs. He can hear Natasha's quiet footsteps already, and he sighs. “A friend of mine, Natasha, is on her way here to help us, okay? She'll help us find the key and get you out of those cuffs. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you, okay?”
“My name's Tony,” the kid says. Bucky nods, though he'd suspected. He almost hates to have it confirmed. “Why...why are you helping me? Dad won't pay you.”
“Because you're a kid, Tony,” Bucky says. He wants to bring Howard back from the dead and rip out his heart, but since he can't, he'll settle for being as nice to this child version of Tony as he can be. “No one has to pay me to help you. I want to. Everyone with me does. We've been looking for you for weeks. It just took a long time to find you.”
There are two quick taps on the outside of the door Steve had awkwardly shoved closed when he left. “Mind if I come in?”
Bucky looks at Tony. “That's Natasha. Can she come in?” Tony looks at Bucky like he's weird for asking him, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, Nat, come on in.” Tony shrinks against the wall at the sight of her. “Natasha, this is Tony. Tony, this is my friend Natasha.” Bucky shifts a little to keep Natasha and Tony both in his sights. “Nat, those are electric magcuffs. We have to find the key.”
“I might have liberated a set of keys on my way here,” Natasha says with a thin smile. She tosses the keyring to Bucky, which makes Tony flinch badly and try to hide his face against his shoulder and the wall. Bucky curses internally, and Natasha stiffens slightly, which is the only indication that Tony's reaction means something to her.
“Hey, Tony?” Bucky says quietly. “I'm sorry she threw the keys. She didn't mean to scare you.” He signals for her to back off, and Natasha steps into the hallway but doesn't leave. “She left the room. Does that help?” Tony carefully peeks away from his shoulder and glances around, then relaxes slowly. “Great. Want me to unlock the cuffs, now? It means have to get closer to you, though.”
“Please,” Tony says, his voice soft and pleading. “Please get them off.”
“Just hold still, okay?” Bucky says gently. He slides closer to Tony, not moving too quickly but also not inching along. Tony holds out his arms, so Bucky settles on his ass on the cold floor and rests Tony's arms over his leg to try to make him just a bit more comfortable. He doesn't want Tony to have to hold his arms up with the heavy cuffs on them the entire time Bucky is going through the keyring.
The first key that looks like it might fit isn't the one. Bucky hears the faint static of an electrical discharge, but Tony barely flinches and doesn't make a sound. Bucky rubs around Tony's wrists with his flesh thumb apologetically. Tony's eyes are narrowed as he studies the keyring, though.
“Any guesses?” Bucky asks, opening his hand to show off the entire set.
“The gold key with number 176 engraved on the side,” Tony says immediately. “Looks like that one will fit best.” Bucky nods, grabs that key, and fits it into the slot. Tony cringes and whimpers softly, and Bucky snatches the key away. Tony is panting softly and sweating a little and shaking all over, but he jerks his head at the key ring. “Try the next gold one. Number 982.”
“Tony,” Bucky says gently. “It's hurting you. Let's take a break, okay?”
“No,” Tony insists. “That one will work, okay? It has to. There isn't another key on that set that might fit. Just do it.” He pushes his hands out further, and Bucky sighs softly before nodding and finding the right key. It clicks into place with another static sound, but he turns it before it can discharge, and the cuffs fall open around Tony's wrists. Bucky grabs them and tosses them away. The loud clatter makes Tony flinch badly, but then he's throwing himself in Bucky's arms and hiding against his chest.
“Thank you,” Tony whispers. Bucky can feel the hot tears on the side of his neck. He rubs Tony's back as gently as he can, hoping he doesn't scare the poor kid even worse. “Can I go home now? I miss my mom.”
“We can get out of here, but we can't take you home,” Bucky says, trying to be honest without telling the entire truth. Tony accepts that with a nod, though, which is surprising. “Want me to carry you? I don't mind.”
“I can walk,” Tony says, but it sounds reluctant.
“How about I carry you anyway? There's...a lot of gross stuff everywhere out there. We'll get you out and on the ‘jet, okay?” Bucky gently climbs to his feet without jostling Tony much. Tony clings to Bucky's neck and doesn't lift his head. “Just keep your eyes closed, all right?” Tony nods against his neck, and Bucky walks to the door.
Natasha gives Bucky a short nod, and the pair of them make their way through the bunker silently. Clint drops in behind them at some point, and Vision fades through the walls to join them a little later. Wanda, Sam, and Steve are waiting for them outside, with Steve closest to the bunker and Sam closest to the ‘jet.
“Bucky?” Steve asks, voice subdued. Tony cringes against Bucky's side, so Bucky rubs his back as gently and soothingly as he can.
“This is Tony,” Natasha says. She catches Bucky's eye and he nods very slightly, little more than a dip of his chin. “He's hurt right now, but he likes Bucky, so we are going to give them space.” She directs that order at Steve, who can only nod meekly. “Tony, Sam knows a little bit about first aid. Will you let him look at you when we get on the ‘jet?”
“If I have to,” Tony murmurs into Bucky's neck. Bucky whispers encouragements to him as he waits for the others to go the to ‘jet first. They are quick to pile up front and leave the back for Sam, Bucky, and Tony. It's not ideal, but it's the best they can do for the moment. Bucky has no idea what they'll do when they get to the compound, but he figures they'll cross that bridge when they get to it. Sam sits in one of the seats after shedding his pack and jacket to make himself look as least imposing as possible.
Bucky sits just one seat down, in the very last seat in the row. “Hey, Tony? This is Sam.” Tony turns his head to the side to look at Sam.
Sam smiles, friendly and cheerful. “Hey, little man. Nat said you're hurt. Mind if I take a look, see if I can help you out some?” Bucky approves of how loose and relaxed he keeps his posture.
Tony sits up a little, pulling away from Bucky's chest. He frowns a little. “You're not a doctor.”
“Nope,” Sam says, acknowledging that easily. “But I used to be in the Air Force. I worked at the VA, too. I have lots of experience with patching people up until they can get to a real doctor.” He pauses, then adds, “We have some really great doctors at the compound where we live, you know? One of the doctors I know is a magic doctor.”
“Magic isn't real,” Tony says, scrunching his nose up in disbelief.
“Hand to God,” Sam says, holding up one hand. “I've seen some real crazy stuff. You know Thor, from all the legends? He's real, too. Met him myself.”
“No way,” Tony snorts. He crosses his arms over his chest, visibly winces, then lowers them to fiddle with Bucky's tac vest. “I'm a kid, but I'm not stupid.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, a horrified expression crosses his face.
“You definitely aren't stupid,” Sam agrees with a nod, pretending not to notice Tony's reaction. “But I can show you some videos and pictures later and prove it. How's that sound?” He takes his phone out of his pocket, pokes at it for a moment, then holds it up. There's a game ready and waiting, some kind of free-for-all fighting game that Peter talked Sam into playing with him. “How about you get that shirt off so I can look over whatever injuries you have, and I'll let you play this game, huh?”
“Okay,” Tony says, his curiosity over the game, and likely the phone, stronger than his need to hide. Bucky is overly aware of everyone other than Clint, who is flying the ‘jet, watching them with rapt attention. Tony doesn't seem to notice them at least. Tony grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it, and Bucky immediately notices bruising and burns on what little bit of skin he can see. Tony whimpers softly when he can't lift his arms very high, so Bucky gently helps to ease the shirt over his head.
Sam surrenders the phone immediately, and it works as an instant distraction as Tony begins to poke at the screen. Bucky seethes in silent horror at the way Tony has been treated. There are what look like electrical burns from a shock stick dotting his olive skin, along with nasty bruises and several bad cuts that are spattered with dried blood. His ribs are showing through his skin, and he looks paler and smaller somehow without the shirt.
Sam takes a slow, steady breath, then opens the first aid kit at his feet. He gently begins to clean the cuts first, wiping away old blood. Tony hisses at the sting from the alcohol wipes, but he doesn't try to pull away. Bucky rubs over Tony's thigh with one hand to try to settle him some and maybe silently encourage and praise him. Tony looks to be engrossed in the game, though his eyebrows are furrowed in the way Bucky was familiar with the older Tony's need to learn how everything worked. By the time Sam has finished cleaning all the cuts they can see, Tony has already closed out of the game and is playing around on the phone itself. Well, if he tears it up somehow, Sam can always just get a new one, Bucky figures.
“Tony,” Bucky asks quietly, “did the people who put you in those cuffs hurt you like this?” He needs the confirmation.
Tony shrugs. “Yeah.” He frowns at whatever he's doing to the phone. “What's Google?”
“A search engine,” Sam responds instantly. He seems to realize the question, then shakes his head. “Please don't search for anything, kid.” He sounds tired with the request, not angry or anything. Tony doesn't react well, though. He immediately closes out of the search engine and finds the button on the side to power off the screen. He holds out the phone to Sam with a look of shame and regret.
“Here,” Bucky says, reaching over to take the phone. He drops it in the seat beside Sam and offers up his arm for inspection. “I told you earlier you could look at it, didn't I?” Tony looks up at Bucky carefully, nods once, then runs his fingers over the arm just as gently as his older self always had. Bucky represses a shiver. The new model Tony built for him is lighter and so much more sensitive.
“This is amazing,” Tony whispers softly. “Who made this?” He looks up at Bucky with wide, curious eyes.
“My mechanic,” Bucky answers with a thin smile. “I'll tell him you like it.” Bucky hopes they get the older Tony back soon. This tiny version is cute as hell, and Bucky would kill anyone who threatened to hurt him, but he wants his Tony back. Even if it's unfair to think of the man as his. He had no formal claim to him, after all. Only hoped and wished and dreamed of a ‘one day’ at some point in a future that was never guaranteed for either of them. He swears he won't wait anymore, not once he has the older Tony back.
“I wish I could meet him,” Tony says with a soft sigh. “I'm just a dumb kid, though. No one wants dumb kids around.”
“You aren't dumb,” Bucky says as gently as he can. “My mechanic isn't around right now, is all. He'd... he'd love to meet you if he could.” Bucky hopes, anyway. The way Tony tends to attract kids and stuff them full of science and pizza has long been a source of good-natured teasing from the others, even if it puts Tony's back up. Bucky wonders how his Tony would react to meeting this young version of himself. Probably not well, if he thinks about it honestly.
Sam tenderly wraps some bandages around Tony's chest, then sits back on his heels. “All right, Tony, I've done what I can for now. You'll still need to go see the doctors when we get to the compound, though, okay?” Tony nods silently, obviously not as inclined to argue as his older self. “I'll find you a cleaner shirt to wear. It'll be big, but clean. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No,” Tony mutters, curling in on himself and turning his head to look at the back of the ‘jet. He's lying, Bucky and Sam can both tell, but Sam lets it go when Bucky shakes his head at him.
“All right,” Sam says slowly. “Clint, how long ‘til we get to the compound?”
“About four hours,” Clint calls back. “Hey, rugrat, why don't you try to nap? It's a long and boring flight with nothing to do.”
Sam finds a shirt in a spare gearbox, one that was probably on reserve for Bruce. No one had seen him or Thor in a couple years, though. Bucky's chest lurches when he realizes that Tony has been waiting all this time for his friend to return to him. He carefully helps Tony with the clean shirt by getting his arms through it first, then looping it over his head.
“We have some spare blankets if you want to take a nap,” Bucky offers. Sam is already dragging down a blanket from another compartment. It looks like a hospital blanket, but it's much softer. He shakes out the blanket and drapes it around Tony's shoulders, then pulls it together at his chest like a giant cape.
“Don't…” Tony bites down on his lip viciously, then slides backward out of Bucky's lap. Bucky steadies him, then watches as Tony crosses the narrow walk to sit on the floor. He wonders what Tony had been about to say, but he doesn't ask. Doesn’t see the point. There's a distinct wince when Tony sits, but Bucky doesn't comment on it. Sam silently offers Tony a pillow, and Tony takes it with a whisper of thanks. He puts it on the floor and flops over on his side as quickly as he can. He screws his eyes shut tightly. It takes a full minute for Tony to relax, and then he slips straight into unconsciousness.
Bucky takes a deep breath and lets his head thunk against the wall behind the seats. Clint begins to play some soft classical music over the speakers. Natasha, Wanda, and Vision spread out a little more, but they don't get very close, either.
Wanda's magic sparks at her fingers and floats through the air to settle over Tony. Bucky watches as Tony takes a deeper breath and relaxes even more, his mouth parting slightly. The magic retreats quickly and Wanda sighs softly. “He's asleep,” she says. “I don't know when he might wake, though. He's utterly exhausted. The Extremis is still there, in his blood, but whatever magic is affecting him has...dampened it, I think. This was a strong spell, one I'm not sure I understand.”
“We'll call Strange as soon as we get back,” Steve says with a short nod. He looks at Bucky. “Why is he so afraid of me?”
“Howard,” Bucky says with a shrug. Wanda nods unhappily. Bucky doesn't like that the nosy little witch was obviously looking more than she should have been, but he can't do anything about it. “I know you heard what he said back there. He's terrified of you because Howard used you against him the way some parents use the boogie man. It's not right and it's gonna be hard to get him to trust you, but we can't change it.”
Steve looks distressed and unhappy about it, but he nods. “Right. Seems he trusts you, at least?”
“Said he liked me best,” Bucky says with a sardonic smile. “Betting Howard had a good bit to do with that, too, in a way, but at least he isn't afraid of all of us.” Bucky stretches his legs out in front of himself. “Pretty sure any magic in front of him is bad idea.” He glances at Wanda. “HYDRA used it against him, to hurt him. He's not gonna know there's a difference for a while.”
“I wouldn't hurt him,” Wanda says, taking it as a challenge, though that wasn't how Bucky meant it.
Vision comforts her with a hand on her shoulder. “Of course not, but he is very young. He won't understand intentions, only prior experiences. So far, his prior experiences with magic have been incredibly negative. We should endeavor to be as careful as possible around him.”
“Look, kids are tough,” Clint says, having obviously maneuvered them into airspace where the autopilot could take over for a while. “Tony will bounce back, but it's going to take some time.”
“I nominate Clint for babysitting duty,” Natasha says with a brittle smile. “He has three kids, after all. Plenty of experience.” Clint shrugs like it isn't a big deal for him. “No loud noises or sudden movements in front of him for a while. He didn't react well when I tossed a set of keys to Bucky.”
“This kid has more PTSD than half the vets I've counseled,” Sam sighs with his arms crossed over his chest. “He needs a real therapist, even if this is only temporary.”
“Speaking of which,” Vision says, “how do we explain me? Or the compound? Or FRIDAY? He did not know what Google was. I'm not certain he is familiar with current technology.”
Steve sighs. “We need to call Pepper. She and Jim are his proxies for everything still, I think. Jim...Jim might have a better idea on how to handle all this, honestly. I'll call him now.” Steve wanders up to the pilot's chair and sits in the relative privacy to call Rhodes.
“He's still hurt, too,” Natasha says quietly. She looks over at Clint. “Any suggestions? He didn't want to take off his jeans.”
Clint shrugs. “Forcing him is a bad idea. He doesn't know or trust any of us nearly enough for that sort of thing. Let the med team sort him out. They can sedate him if they have to. I... don't want to say not to worry about it, because this is HYDRA we're talking about, but at least it isn't so serious we have to worry about him dying in the next couple hours.”
“You said four,” Natasha says with a raised eyebrow, calling him on his lie.
“Kids aren't great at telling time,” he says with an easy shrug. “If we had a tablet with a bunch of kids movies loaded on it, I'd have said to give him that. We didn't, so I stretched the time a bit. Figured he was tired, anyway, and it'll be easier for him to deal with all the new stuff if he's had at least a little rest first.”
“For future reference? Don't lie to him.” Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. “He's too smart to fall for it, and even if he pretends to believe you, it'll blow up in your face later and make him not trust you.” Clint nods his acceptance easily. “I'm gonna nap, too.”
“And if Tony wakes up first?” Vision asks. “You are not...the gentlest person to wake.”
“Kick my foot or something,” Bucky says with a shrug. “I won't hurt the kid, not even in my sleep.” He isn't sure how he knows that for absolute certain, but he does, and he won't question it. He closes his eyes and slips into a doze nearly instantly, an old habit from when he never knew when he would get the next chance to sleep.