Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes

The door to the bedroom opened with a quiet click.

Steve stepped inside first, still wearing the remnants of his training clothes, a towel slung around the back of his neck. Bucky followed close behind, rubbing at the back of his neck with his flesh hand as they talked quietly about the training session they'd just finished.

Neither of them expected to find you there.

At first, Steve simply smiled. Then he stopped. Bucky nearly walked straight into him.

The bedroom looked... different. Not dramatically. Just... softer.

Colored pencils and crayons were scattered across the floor. Several sheets of paper covered the rug, some filled with carefully colored pictures and others abandoned halfway through. A little pile of stuffed animals had somehow migrated onto the bed. One of your blankets had been dragged down onto the floor, creating a makeshift nest around you.

And there you sat in the middle of it all, quietly coloring.

Steve's eyebrows lifted, Bucky looked at you for several seconds. Neither man said anything.

There was something about the way you were sitting that made them hesitate. Your usual posture was gone. Your movements were smaller, more absorbed, your attention completely focused on the picture in front of you.

Then Bucky noticed what you were doing with the marker, and his eyebrows scrunched together, slightly hurt for you.

You had stopped coloring and were absentmindedly chewing on the marker you had been holding.

Steve's expression changed immediately when he realized. "Oh, honeybun..."

Bucky looked at him, worried. Steve gave the smallest nod. They both understood that you had regressed. The realization softened something in both of them almost instantly.

Steve's entire posture changed first. The soldier disappeared from his stance, replaced by the gentle man underneath. His shoulders lowered, his movements becoming deliberately slow and predictable, Bucky followed suit. Neither of them rushed toward you.

They knew better.

A sudden approach could startle you, especially when you were this deeply regressed. So Steve quietly set his things aside while Bucky moved slowly enough that you could see him coming.

"Hey, sweetheart," Steve said softly, his voice warm and low.

Bucky crouched a few feet away, making himself smaller rather than towering over you. "What are you drawing, doll...?"

You looked up at them. For a moment, your expression was uncertain, then your eyes landed on Bucky's left arm.

The reaction was immediate.

Your face brightened. You abandoned the marker completely and reached for him, hands darting straight for the familiar metal limb.

Bucky's guarded expression melted immediately. "Yeah," he murmured softly. "There it is..."

He offered his metal hand without hesitation, your fingers wrapping around it.

The cool titanium seemed to fascinate you every single time. You traced your fingers over the smooth surface, turning his wrist this way and that while Bucky patiently let you investigate.

Steve sat down next to you.

He smiled when you pulled Bucky's arm closer, like you'd just found your favorite comfort object.

"Looks like somebody missed you." Steve teased.

Bucky glanced at him. "Apparently." There was the faintest hint of amusement in his voice.

You weren't interested in their conversation, you were far too busy examining Bucky's fingers.

Bucky let you manipulate them carefully, opening and closing his hand whenever you seemed curious about how it worked. Every so often, he gently redirected your attention when your fingers wandered toward something that wasn't meant to be pulled or twisted. "Easy, sweetheart." He murmured.

Steve reached for the marker you had abandoned. He looked at it, then at you. "No more chewing these, sweetheart." His voice remained completely gentle.

He didn't scold. Didn't make a big deal out of it. Didn't get mad at you.

He simply exchanged it for something safer, placing a familiar rubber chewy within your reach before returning the marker to the desk. "There we go."

You accepted the replacement without protest, and Bucky watched with quiet amusement. "Smart for an old man."

Steve smiled at the playful jab. "I've learned a few things."

"You?" Bucky replied, giving him a fake look of judgement.

"Very funny." Steve reaponded, unable to hold back his smile.

That earned the faintest little smirk from Bucky.

For a few minutes, neither man tried to do anything else. They simply let you settle.

Bucky remained on the floor beside you, allowing you to hold onto his metal hand as tightly as you wanted. Steve sat on your other side, occasionally passing you crayons when you seemed to want a new color.

Soon, the bedroom became peaceful again.

The three of you had done this before.

Not exactly this scenario, but enough that Steve and Bucky knew what mattered. You didn't need to be questioned. You didn't need to explain yourself. You didn't need to immediately return to being your usual self. You could simply be small for a while.

Steve then noticed you beginning to get distracted by the stuffed animals scattered around you. He picked up a particularly floppy-looking bear and held it out.

"This guy looks like he wants to color too." He commented.

You stared at the bear, then at Steve, then back at the bear.

Bucky's mouth twitched into another smile. "I think he's waiting for a crayon."

Steve nodded solemnly. "I think you're right, Buck." He placed a crayon in the bear's paw. "There. Professional artist."

Bucky actually laughed, it was quiet, but genuine. You seemed delighted by this.

Soon the three of you were surrounded by crayons, stuffed animals, blankets, and half-finished drawings.

Steve occasionally praised your coloring with exaggerated seriousness.

Bucky pretended to be impressed, though every time you showed him a picture, his expression softened. He worried about you too much...

Eventually, you crawled closer between them. Bucky immediately adjusted the blanket around you, Steve reached over and gently smoothed your hair away from your face.

Neither rushed. Neither asked you to grow up like others did. They simply stayed.

Bucky's metal arm remained exactly where you wanted it, your hands wrapped around his fingers. Steve stayed close enough that you could lean against him whenever you wanted.

And somewhere between the coloring, the stuffed animals, and the quiet voices, the room stopped feeling like a bedroom.

It became a little sanctuary. A place where you didn't have to be responsible for anything. A place where Bucky could be gentle, where Steve could be patient.

Where you could simply exist in whatever headspace your mind had chosen for the moment.

Bucky glanced down at you, then toward Steve, is voice dropping almost to a whisper. "They aren't scared this time..."

*Steve smiled. "Yeah... They're happy, Buck..." He tucked the blanket a little more securely around you.

Bucky leaned in and kissed your head, closing his eyes. "You're safe, sweetheart."