#i cant begin to tell you by bing crosby

[geminimoonbeamx]

Moths Wings/ Part 1

A/N: I know what ya’ll are thinking. Wow, this bitch is starting another series. But hear me out, I think we all need some god ol’ fluff in our lives. I know I need some in mine, and Daddy!Bucky has been all over my feed lately. I HAD to put my own spin on it. It’s still cannon Marvel, just if Bucky took some time to focus on rebuilding his mental health instead of jumping from battle to battle.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: None really for this chapter except the usual of cursing. That will never change.

Summary: When Bucky takes sometime to focus on himself- partially because he knows he needs it and partially because the team has seemed to Veto him off the island- and moves upstate he meets Y/N, a bright, kind single mother and her four year old daughter Phoebe. His heart’s been frozen for so long, but it cant help but melt as he get’s to know the little family and falls in love with the possibility of happiness.

You come beating like moths wings; spastic and violently- Passion Pit

✨✨✨

This was good for him, good for everyone. He needed this.

That seemed to be Bucky’s inner dialogue, his mantra of sorts these days. It had been months, nearly a year, since he, Steve and the rest of what had been dubbed as “team Cap” had returned to the city. Since Tony had extended the olive branch. Apologies had been said, and bridges had started to mend. Everyone trying to put their egos and pride and feelings on the back burner because that’s what this hero business was about, wasn’t it? The good of the world, of the people.

Tony had even allowed him into the Tower, for a time. Bucky had his own suite and though it was huge and just as lavish as everyone else’s(he had been a little nervous that Stark was gonna stick him in a broom closet…not that he hadn’t endured worse) it felt clinical and too…open. The loneliness seeped in from the high ceilings and had him crawling. He did the therapy, endured the twice a week sessions with the Phycologist that actually wasn’t so bad once Bucky go used to her.

It was the advanced technology in the building that first started to set him off. It brought back memories of being strapped down…of computers and electric shocks. And then, it slowly turned into the entire atmosphere of Avengers tower. As much as everyone tried to welcome him, attempted to let him know what he was apart of the team, he was relapsing. The panic attacks and nightmares coming at an overwhelming rate.

Sam, with all of his experience with PTSD ridden vets, is the first to speak up.

“It’s not good for him, man” He tells Steve one day when it’s just the two for him “He isn’t going to make any progress here. It’s too much, too soon”

And Steve knows he’s right. Even though he wants to be selfish, wants to keep Bucky as close as possible, he knows that he’s not doing him any favors by doing so. And so it goes, the talks, the decisions.

Everyone had decided that Sam was right. Even Bucky had, after some pushing. Being back in New York City was too much, it brought back too much at once. And so Pepper brilliant, of course, suggests that he moves. Out side the city. Close enough that if they really needed him he could be retrived in a snap, but far enough that the sounds and sights of the city weren’t assaulting his senses constantly. Bucky hates it, that they have to have a meeting over him, that they had to adjust and team up to help him- but he knows that he’s more of a hindrance then anything there. So he goes with what they set him up with.

The suburbs. A small town about an hour and a half, give or take, outside NYC.

It’s an odd fit for him. He was a Brooklyn boy(or at least he had been) through and through and it was so…quiet here. The house that Tony had purchased was unlike anything he’d ever inhabited. It had always been apartments for him, semi seedy ones that looked down on overpopulated streets. Even when he was on the run he kept to bigger cities.

The air here was different.

Bucky finally felt like he could breathe.

It had been a few weeks since he’d made the move and he was still getting adjusted. The home that he’d been given, Stark had objected that-

“I’m not giving it to you, it’s not a Christmas present. Think of it as coming out of your paycheck, Elsa”

Was nice. He liked it. It seemed…smaller then his suite back at the tower, which he’s grateful for. Single floored, two rooms. A decent sized living room that linked with an equally decent sized kitchen. Of course, all the appliances had been updated. A bathroom and a garage; where his car sat.

It was all he needed.

Steve, and his therapist had encouraged him to make it his own. That it was his home, his safe space, and he should treat it as such. He’d sat with Pepper she’d helped him order the furniture, he was still getting the hang of online shopping, but damn, did he like the convenience.

The couches were brown leather, a Laz-e-Boy recliner sat in front of the flat screen mounted to the wall; the one that he could watch ball games and catch up on all the movies and shit he’d missed over the last decades on. The hardwood had rugs, and the walls had a few paintings. It wasn’t anything special or extensive, but it was what he’d wanted. What kept him comfortable.

He liked being alone, although Steve visited him almost every fuckin’ day. He liked the time and space to continue to sort out the memories in his head and document them in the journals like Dr. Schnapp had, had him doing for months. He fell into a nice routine; going for a run in the morning followed up by doing the Yoga exercises that actually worked(even though he’d felt like a total tool doing them at first) then making himself breakfast, and eating said breakfast while he read the paper. Then he’d fix up the house, fix up the motorcycle he had in his garage. Do anything to keep his hands and mind as far away from idle as he could. And then he’d finish his day with another run, a microwave dinner, and a hand full of sleeping pills.

Again, nothing special. But he didn’t need it to be, he just needed to feel…

Normal.

And that’s how his day had started, normal as any other. Run, downward dog, eggs- and now he was working on the motorcycle. The garage door up, letting the nice breeze in while he tinkered. He’d hooked his iPod up to the speaker and Bing Crosby filled the space gently. He hummed along mindlessly as he focused on the many parts in front of him.

He can be completely immersed in something, and yet his enhanced senses can detect and pick up on sounds from a mile away.

He hears the peddling, and then the screeching stop and then the tumble. His head snaps up at the sniffles and cries that follow. Across the street a little girl lies, her trike beside her. She looks like she’d taken one hell of a fall…

Bucky cant help it, he gets up from his place and walks over to her, making sure to grab his glove off of the counter and slide it onto his mech hand as he goes.

“Hey…” He starts as he approaches and she sits up slowly. She’s teensy tiny, cant be older then five, he asses.

“Hi” She looks up at him, her eyes teary as she pulls up her skinned knee and looks at the blood there.

“Are you okay, I saw you fall?” Bucky asks, his eyes scanning the surrounding street for a parent.

“My knees bleeding a little” She sniffles “Mommy’s gonna be so mad. She always tolds me to wear my knee pads”

“Where is your mom?” Bucky continues, crouching down to her level.

“At home” The little one shrugs and he’s confused.

“At home? Okay. Where’s home?”

She seems to get suspicious at that, her big Y/E/C eyes narrowing “I’m not suppos'ta talk to strangers”

Bucky chuckles. Smart kid, flawed thinking. She’d been talking to him for nearly a minute. “Wise words to live by”

“But your my neighbor, so it’s okay, right?” She babbles on “We’re not suppos'ta be strangers anyway. I’m friends with Mr and Mrs. Miller. So we can be friends too- I’m Phoebe”

Bucky doesn’t know what to think of the girl. There she is, scrapped knee, tears in her eyes, asking him to be friends.

“I’m, uh, Bucky” He takes her out stretched hand with an amused grin. She then begins to complain about her knee again, “It hurts” “It might need stiches”

He’s just about to tell her all she needs is a Band-Aid when he hears a screech.

“Phoebe!” It’s a woman’s voice that sounds distressed and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out it must be this mystery little girls mom. You come running, frantic, to the scene. Putting a hand over your heart when you see them.

Oh, Bucky thinks. He’s seen you around. Walking a dog down the street sometimes when he goes for his morning runs. You’re pretty, it’s plain to see. With your soft looking hair and your rosy cheeks. He’d noticed the sway of your large hips as you’d walked the dog in passing a few times…

“Phoebe Marie!” you scold, your chest heaving as you bend down “You scared me half to death! What have I told you, you cant play outside without me!”

Phoebe’s bottom lip furrows and Bucky thinks it may be the cutest pout face he’s ever seen. “I’m sorry!”

You look from her daughter and then to Bucky who perks up, abeit awkwardly.

“Hey, sorry. I saw her fall, and it was pretty nasty so I came over to make sure she didn’t do any serious damage” Bucky explains himself, fully aware that she could take this the wrong way. Grown men coming up to children wasn’t always received well.

You don’t look upset though “Thank you so much for that. She’s always been a little bit…adventurous? She’s going to either brake her neck or give me a stroke” you announce, your tone gentle and grateful as your fingers daintily scan over Phoebe’s knee before taking off her unicorn helmet. “I’m Y/N, by the way”

You throw a smile at him and he feels…weird. When was the last time anyone had smiled at him that way? With such raw kindness.

“I’m James, but you can call me Bucky”

Where did that come from? He wonders at the smoothness.

“Well ,Bucky, thank you again. She’s a little scraped up, but I think she’ll live” You look at your daughter pointedly and she adverts her gaze, guiltily “You moved in a couple weeks ago right? I think I’ve seen you around? We live a few houses up that way”

“Yeah, uh, I haven’t been here long”

“You liking the neighborhood so far?” You’re just being friendly, Bucky assures himself. He’s had therapy for this. He can talk to strangers, it’s okay. Plus, just like Phoebe had said- you weren’t really strangers. You were his neighbor.

“I am. It’s really quiet, but I think I like that” He converses, following suit as you stand up. You pull the girl into your arms, situating her on your hip effortlessly.

“Yeah? You move here from the city?” You inquire knowingly and he grins smalley.

“I did” Bucky answers “Brooklyn”

“Queens” You grin right back and he chuckles at the proudness and slight excitement in your voice “I know it’s a little bit of an adjustment, but I swear, once you get used to it here, you’ll never want to go back”

Bucky nods, processing that. When he doesn’t reply, you realize that maybe you’ve overstepped…

“I need to go patch this little soldier up. I know it’s over kill, but thank you. Again” You giggle, trying to fight the awkwardness “If you ever need anything, just holler. We’re all pretty tight on this col-de-sac. We do lame barbeques and everything”

“Yeah- yeah, I’ll keep that in mind” He couldn’t imagine going to a neighborhood shin-dig, but he humors you all the same “It was really nice to meet you, Y/N- Phoebe”

You agree. You’d been curious of the man for weeks, meeting him finally had been a pleasant surprise “Likewise. Well- we’ll let you get back. Have a good rest of the day” You scoop up the tricycle with your other hand and give him one last sweet smile before retreating.

“Bye Bucky!” Phoebe calls over your shoulder, waving her little hand overzealously at him and he cant wipe the smile on his face as he waves back to her.

He goes back to his garage, picks up where he’d left off. He thinks about the small encounter for the rest of the day, up until he takes his sleeping medication and falls into a dreamless sleep.

Read PART 2 

A sweet little start to this story, if I do say so myself. If you guys want to be tagged in upcoming chapters, let me know! 💛 Oh, and PS, listen to Moths Wings by Passion Pit. It’s this stories anthem.

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