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Kids don’t normally fall out of holes in the sky, not even in New York City, but if they do it is, as Tony’s been informing everyone for the last fifteen minutes, entirely Reed Richards’ fault.
“Tony, please,” Steve sighs wearily, tilting his head back against the wall, and pressing the balls of his hands against his forehead. He sounds exhausted, voice raw and hoarse after hours of shouting orders, his suit more rip than fabric at this point, and his soot-smeared hair sticking up in all directions.
In short; Cap’s an absolute mess, and Tony swallows back the sharp retort already on the tip of his tongue, shooting him a small, apologetic smile instead.
They’re all tired after nearly a full day of fighting Doom’s latest out of control creations, and while ending up in the hospital after a battle isn’t exactly unusual, Tony would bet his entire car collection on none of them having expected to take an impromptu trip to the ER because of a temporally displaced pipsqueak.
Tony chances a glance over at James, standing in the corner of the room with his arms crossed over his chest, chewing the inside of his cheek, and staring at the unconscious kid like he’s seeing a ghost. Which, Tony supposes, is kind of what this is. It’s not every day you meet your past-self, after all.
They’re not sure how Mini James ended up in the present, or even which Earth he’s from. Reed’s still working on that, so they’ll probably never get to the bottom of it. All they know is that the kid fell out of one of the portals Reed had created in a failed attempt to lure away Doom’s mech-monstrosities of the week, and that, for all intents and purposes, he’s some version of James Buchanan Barnes, approximately age four.
The waiting is setting Tony on edge, so in the absence of the phone that had been taken away from him by a very sternly glaring nurse, he picks up the kid’s medical chart, scanning over it again as if he hasn’t already memorised all the nasty details; malnourished, too low body temperature, scrapes, cuts, bruises, and a broken arm courtesy of Tony barely having enough time to snatch him up before he’d hit the ground.
“You saved his life,” Steve says softly, the damned guilt-sniffing dog, but Tony’s spared from answering when the kid starts to stir, slowly blinking open huge, confused eyes.
James’ breath hitches, and Steve is up on his feet in an instant, lunging towards the bed with a relieved, “Bucky.”
Which doesn’t seem to be the ideal approach, going by how the kid flinches back with a scared whimper, nearly ripping the IV out of his hand, the sight of which only makes him panic more as he struggles to get his feet under him.
“Careful!” Tony exclaims, stepping closer to steady the wobbling kid by putting a hand on his back.
The kid whips around, startled, but visibly relaxes when he spots Tony, even as the frightened tears finally spill over. He hiccups wetly and reaches for Tony, his tiny face scrunching up when all Tony does is blink down at him.
It takes him a moment, but then it clicks and Tony asks, somewhat hesitantly, “You want me to pick you up?”
Mini James nods frantically, cheeks wet and red from exertion, and Tony’s moving before he really registers what he’s doing, hands hovering awkwardly in front of the kid before he slides them under his arms, carefully lifting him up. Thankfully, the kid knows how this is supposed to work better than Tony does, winding his arms around Tony’s neck, and his legs around Tony’s waist when Tony pulls him against his chest.
“Okay, yeah. That’s, uh, that’s good,” Tony says, settling the kid on his hip. He tentatively runs his fingers through the squirt’s hair, encouraged when that earns him a hum, shaky but pleased. “Okay. All right. I’ve got you, it’s okay now. You’re safe, buddy, I promise.”
Unsure what to do next, Tony looks up at Steve for help, mouthing a somewhat desperate, “Why me?”
Steve’s expression goes from concerned to that mixture of fond and sad Tony’s come to hate because it’s almost always followed by Steve talking about feelings, or emotions. “You caught him, Tony,” he says as he walks closer to them again. “Of course he trusts you.”
Tony wisely doesn’t mention that he’s also the one who broke the kid’s arm, sensing that Steve wouldn’t accept that as a reason why Tony’s the last person who should be holding the kid, even if he the thought of setting Mini James down makes Tony’s throat constrict uncomfortably. Instead, he asks, “What do I do now?”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Steve suggests, shrugging. He smiles brightly and waves when the kid peeks up at him, just offering his hand this time.
The kid seems to have decided Steve’s not so bad after all, latching on to his hand with one of his, and hiding his face against Tony’s throat, still sniffling noisily even as his sobs slowly begin to die down.
Instinctively, Tony brushes some of the dirty hair away from Mini James' forehead, pressing a chaste kiss to the fever-hot skin. Steve is bent down, making himself look less threatening, murmuring reassuringly to the kid, but James, when Tony looks over at him, is scowling at his feet, jaw clenched tightly.
Tony sighs, smoothing a hand over the kid’s head.
Reed better hurry, and clean this mess up.
* * * * *
James doesn’t like Bucky, and no matter what Steve claims, it’s not because he’s having identity issues, or some other dumb shit like that. Sure, James is still struggling with reconciling who he was before the war with the last seventy years of his massively fucked up life, but he’s also pretty sure that being brainwashed and mind-wiped repeatedly has earned him the right to be a little screwed up in the head.
Anyway, that’s not why Bucky being here rubs him the wrong way. Apart from it being really fucking weird to have his kid self around, and the lingering resentment over the fact that the kid calls himself Bucky while James doesn’t feel entitled to use that name anymore, James doesn’t have anything against Bucky per se, he’s just really fucking jealous of the kid.
Which he knows is stupid, but James can’t help the ugly feelings seeing Tony interact with Bucky evokes in him.
Tony is James’ closest friend beside Steve, his only other friend, and he’s less than happy about having to share him with a needy, clingy little brat now. Not that he blames Bucky for it, not really. From what they’ve gathered in the almost four weeks the kid’s been here, this Bucky is a street orphan, and stumbling into a parallel universe is most likely what has saved him from starving, or freezing to death.
It’s hard to be angry at Bucky for that, but still easier than for James to be angry at himself for letting the way Tony showers Bucky with copious amounts of affection bug him so much.
James isn’t delusional enough to think he’s anywhere near good enough for Tony, or that Tony’s interested in him like that, because why would he be? James has seen the sort of people Tony falls for, and a broken former assassin with paralyzing flashbacks and memory problems sure as hell doesn’t belong in that category.
So, for the better part of the last couple of weeks, James has been avoiding Bucky, and, by extension, Tony as well. He misses Tony like crazy; them tinkering with Tony’s cars, playing Mario Kart, their nightly talks when sleep eludes James and Tony’s still up and about in his workshop, Tony slumping against James after a three day work marathon, the way Tony fits perfectly under James’ arm, and even just the two of them sitting around with the TV on in the background, drinking beers and shooting the shit.
But staying away hurts less than watching Tony carrying Bucky around all day, kissing his cheeks, and cuddling him on the couch during movies, seeing them come out of Tony’s bedroom in the morning, and knowing Bucky’s allowed to sleep tucked up against Tony while James is restlessly tossing and turning all night. It’s pathetic, how James has been moping around, and feeling sorry for himself for the last month, and he’s a little disgusted with how relieved he is when JARVIS announces that Richards is here with news concerning the portals.
He doesn’t run down to the common floor, but it’s a close thing. Everyone else is already there, and Bucky is in his favourite spot on Tony’s lap, snuggled up against Tony’s chest. Of course. Gritting his teeth, James perches on the arm of the couch, unable not to return the smile Tony directs up at him.
Fuck, but Tony’s gorgeous, beautiful brown eyes crinkling adorably when he looks up at James, his hand a warm, comforting weight where he places it on James’ thigh, squeezing softly. “You okay?” he asks quietly, only meant for James’ ears. “Come down to the ‘shop after we’re done here? We haven’t spent time together in ages, just the two of us. I’ll order Italian and let you play with the Chevy, how about it?”
James swallows hard, covering Tony’s hand with his, and nods mutely. Tony’s doing his best to hide it, but there’s an undercurrent of uncertainty and worry in his voice, and if there’s one thing James doesn’t want, ever, it’s for Tony to be sad or get hurt.
Richards starts talking then, explaining the situation. Apparently, Bucky’s world isn’t unlike their own, and most historical milestones match up with only some minor differences. Such as Bucky having no living relatives, and an all around bleak life with an unpromising future, as Richards puts it.
“Well,” Tony says when Richards is done, eyes blazing, and arms wrapped protectively around Bucky, “I’m not sending him back there. I don’t care if it tears a hole in the fabric of space, or time, or whatever. The peanut’s staying, end of discussion.”
The words, the determination behind them, make James freeze, even as he realises that he should’ve known. Tony is a good man, generous and so unbelievably kind, there’s absolutely no way he’d send any kid back to an existence like that, let alone one he’s come to care for as much as Bucky.
James barely hears Richards theory that while they don’t know what Bucky never returning to his universe will do to that world on a smaller scale, the chances for any major, universe-destroying consequences are nearly non-existent, he’s too busy trying and failing miserably at wrapping his head around the fact that Bucky’s here to stay. Permanently. Forever.
It’s Tony’s hand moving from his thigh up to his arm, and Tony’s concerned, “James?” that pull him back into the here and now, where he’s greeted by everyone’s intent gazes trained on him.
But it’s Bucky who makes James snap, the way he clumsily pats James’ hand, much like Tony earlier, as if he actually gives a shit about James.
“Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” James barks harshly, batting Bucky’s hand away, not hard enough to do any harm, but Bucky’s eyes grow wide in shock nonetheless. Tony is staring at James as if he’s lost his mind, and it’s too much.
Not looking at anyone, James stands and hurries out of the room. He ignores Steve calling after him, not stopping until he’s reached his apartment, and can lock the door behind himself, falling back against it with his face in his hands.
God, what the fuck is wrong with him? When did he become so petty, so cruel? Bucky’s just a child, innocent and in need of protection, he’s done absolutely nothing wrong. It’s not his fault James is in love with someone way out of his league, it isn’t Bucky who’s pushing James out, James is doing that all by himself.
He should have been there for Tony, supporting his friend, not wallowing in completely unfounded self-pity. This, having to suddenly raise a traumatised kid on his own, it can’t have been easy for Tony, and instead of helping him, James has driven a wedge between them.
The kid’s him, for Christ’s sake, they probably would’ve gotten on like a house on fire.
“Shit,” James curses, banging the back of his head against the door until he’s dizzy and crying. He rubs at his damp cheeks roughly because this is it, he’s done pitying himself. It’s time to start fixing things.
It’s cowardly, but James isn’t ready to face Tony, and the possibility that he’s ruined their friendship yet, but Bucky? Yeah, he can apologise to the kid.
“JARVIS?” James asks, nervously chewing his bottom lip. “Can you tell me when Bucky’s alone? I need to—I want to say sorry.”
The opportunity to do just that presents itself later that evening when JARVIS informs James that Tony’s currently taking a business call downstairs in one of the conference rooms, while Bucky’s playing upstairs in the penthouse. James jumps up with a, “Thanks, pal,” and sprints into the kitchen, grabbing the saran-covered bowl of bribery out of the fridge before hurrying up to Tony’s floor, heart beating wildly.
He has to make things right with Bucky if he wants Tony to ever even consider forgiving him.
Bucky is sitting cross-legged on the carpet by the couch when James steps into Tony’s living area, crayons and papers spread out around him, humming contentedly to himself, and taking a sip of his juice box every now and again. James has to stop and close his eyes for a moment, the flood of memories hitting him nearly overwhelming; him and Steve doodling silly sketches during math class, him and Steve playing kickball behind the school, him and Steve curled up on Steve’s bed, heads bent together over a brand new comic book.
When he glances back at Bucky, the kid is watching him somewhat warily, but with none of the fear or anger James had been expecting.
James awkwardly clears his throat. “Hi,” he says dumbly, cringing. Smooth, very smooth. He holds up his peace offering. “May I join you?”
Bucky tilts his head, considering, but then he nods and scoots over, making room for James, eyes fixed on the bowl. “What is it?” he asks as James hands it over, poking at the wrap before uncovering and sniffing it.
“Rice pudding,” James says, biting back a laugh when Bucky uses his fingers to scoop some into his mouth, his face lightening up with pure, undisguised joy. “It’s my favourite. Thought you might like it, too.”
“‘Cause we’re the same person?” Bucky asks, setting the bowl down so he can focus all his attention on James instead. “Tony said we are.”
“Yeah, I guess we are,” James allows, self-consciously wrapping his arms around himself. Jesus, why is this so hard? “I—” he tries, cutting himself off with a frustrated huff, taking a deep, steadying breath before he continues. “‘M sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That was shitty of me.”
Bucky shrugs, seemingly unbothered. “It’s okay,” he says, and James could cry all over again because he remembers this, being quick to forget and forgive, eager to please, no matter if people deserve it or not. “There were bad people, and they did bad things to you, so sometimes you get sad but it’s not your fault.”
“Tony said that, huh?” James guesses weakly, blinking rapidly against the threatening sting of tears in the corners of his eyes. “Well, that’s true, but it’s not an excuse. It doesn’t mean I get to behave like a jerk. And it’s not why I snapped at you, that was—it was different. I—I was angry, not at you, at myself. I took it out on you, and I shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong of me. Do—do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
Bucky’s brows draw together in concentration, his lips pursing, and James has to admit that he’s pretty darn cute, no self-flattery intended. “You made a mistake because you were angry. An’ now you’re sorry, so you brought me puddin’?”
“Close enough,” comes Tony’s amused voice from behind them. Pointing at Bucky, he adds, “Go put on your PJs, then we’ll have dessert and story time.”
Whooping, Bucky clambers to his feet, and dashes away down the hall, leaving James to face Tony by himself.
There’s a minute of tense silence, then Tony sighs, and walks over to the couch, dropping down onto it and patting the seat next to him. “We have to talk.”
“Yeah,” James agrees, resigned, making sure to leave some space between them when he sits down.
Tony shoots him a complicated look at that, but quickly pulls an unreadable mask over it. “So, I know I should probably be furious with you about this afternoon, and trust me, part of me is extremely pissed off, but I get it, okay?”
“You do?” James asks faintly, feeling the blood drain from his face. Shit. This can’t be happening, not now, not when he’s only just starting to come to terms with their new situation, with Bucky being here. Shit, shit, shit—
“I mean, I don’t get it get it, but I can imagine, I suppose? James,” Tony says, earnest and heartfelt. “I never meant to make you uncomfortable, or to make things weird between us.”
Well. That is unexpected, to say the very least. “What? Tony, no, you didn’t—”
“Please, let me finish?” Tony almost pleads, carefully avoiding James’ eyes, fingers twisted into the fabric of his slacks. “It has to be strange for you to see us together, Bucky and me, the way I treat him, and I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t want this, for either of you, to just make assumptions based on who you are, but I can’t help it. He’s so much like you, James, and I can’t help myself. I’m sorry.”
For a long moment, James just looks at Tony, trying to make sense of his words, but no matter how often he goes over them in his head, it’s not happening. “Tony—”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Tony interrupts quietly. “It’s fine. I fell for my best friend, that’s on me, for me to deal with. And it’s not fair to—to shift my affection from you to Bucky, just because he actually wants it. Not that I wouldn’t love him anyway, seriously, the kid’s amazing, but I know it’s bothering you, to see my—my feelings for you bubble over when I’m with him. Like, they’re not the same feelings, of course, that’d be beyond creepy, and also wrong and illegal, but I love you and I love him, differently, yes, but sometimes it’s hard to remember that—mpfh!”
Steve will be pleased to hear that kissing Tony is the one surefire way to shut him up. Not that Steve’s allowed to kiss Tony, not if James has anything to say about it.
“You—” Tony croaks when they pull apart, at the same time as James starts with, “I—” which makes both of them grin like idiots. “Okay,” they say in unison, swallowing each other’s laughter when their mouths meet again.
Tony’s lips are warm and soft, slightly damp, and he makes the most delicious little sounds when James teases his tongue over the lower one, one hand fisting into James’ hair while the other slides up the back of James’ shirt. James hums happily, Tony’s face cupped in his hands, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as he parts his lips and—
“Gross,” Bucky decides, grimacing, as he worms his way between them, shrieking and giggling when Tony pulls him into his lap and starts tickling him.
James catches one of his flailing feet, and, after a second of indecision, lightly runs his fingers over the sole of it. Bucky turns to throw him a betrayed look, but he’s laughing and bright-eyed all the same, and James thinks that sharing Tony might not be that bad after all.
As long as it’s only with his Mini-Self.
* * * * *
Tony feels James shift against his back a moment before he hears Bucky cry out in the next room, but James is already climbing over him with a murmured, “I got it, go back to sleep,” and a kiss to Tony’s temple by the time Tony manages to peel open his eyes, giving Tony’s foot a gentle squeeze on his way out.
He doesn’t mean to, but Tony must doze off again because the next thing he notices is James talking quietly to Bucky as he carries him back into their bedroom, the mattress shifting under their weight.
They smell like warm milk and honey, James’ favourite nightmare remedy, like Bucky and James, like home, and Tony breathes in deeply, smiling as he holds out his arms.
Bucky comes first, flopping down across Tony’s chest, and tucking his head under Tony’s chin, fingers seeking Tony’s to curl around them. “Daddy.”
“Hey,” Tony whispers, nosing through Bucky's hair, and kissing the top of his head. “You okay, crumpet?”
“Had a bad dream,” Bucky says around a yawn, lazily nuzzling Tony’s shoulder.
Tony makes a sympathetic noise, hugging him close. “We got you, baby, it’s okay.”
Bucky nods agreeably, clearly already half asleep again. Then, “Papa gave me a cookie.”
“I also told you not to tell,” James sighs, rolling his eyes. “You’ll get us both in trouble.”
“C’mere, Papa,” Tony says, laughing, delighted by the blush that word still never fails to bring to James’ cheeks. “You can start making it up to me right now.”
James grumbles half-heartedly, but readily moves in for a kiss when Tony tilts his face up in request, throwing a heavy arm over both Tony and Bucky to pull them against himself. “You’re a menace.”
“I love you, too,” Tony says, smiling into the next kiss.