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“She’s asleep.” Clint whispers as he closes the bedroom door behind him with a soft click.
Kate stands in the hallway, arms crossed where she leans back against the bannister. “Waffle night?”
“How’d you know?”
Kate shrugs and straightens up. “Haven’t even seen Bucky yet.”
Clint sighs, running a hand through his hair. He looks towards their bedroom. “It’s been a bad day. Beer and leftover nachos in the fridge for you.”
“Great.” She bobs her head. “Still on the whole milk bottle if she wakes?”
“Yeah, eight ounces. Just use the bottle warmer. Like three minutes. Dish washer is clean so there should be plenty of bottles.” He places a backup pacifier in Kate’s hand. “She likes the purple blanket lately. And her little shark.”
“Shark?”
“Yeah, Jeff the shark. Gwen sent it to her. I don’t know.” Clint rubs at his eyes. He feels wrung out with the news and the way it has affected Bucky. “She loves it. Gwen loves that she loves it.”
“Got it. Shark. Purple blanket. Bottle warmer. Beer and nachos for me.”
Clint nods. “Lucky has been fed and walked so he’ll just be looking for cuddles.”
Kate nods. “Clint, I’ve got it. I even know how to work your tv. Go get Bucky.”
Clint sighs, gives her a grateful smile and rustles her hair. “Thanks for coming on short notice.”
“I’m going to eat all your nachos as payment.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” Clint pads down the hall, softly knocking before pushing open the door to the study. Bucky is sitting in his armchair, thousand yard stare active as he stares into the void. “Buck?”
He doesn’t stir, doesn’t even blink. Clint’s witnessed this a couple of times since they’ve been married. It just takes a minute to bring him back.
“James,” Clint urges, sitting on the ottoman. It’s not always safe to touch his husband when he’s like this. “Buck?”
Bucky inhales and it feels like a relief.
Clint inhales slowly, running through the mental list of patience and how not to startle Bucky. “Honey?”
At the pet name, Clint can see the break. Bucky blinks. His focus turns to Clint and it’s then he can see how red Bucky’s eyes are. He’s cried himself out.
“Hey, how about waffles?”
Bucky breathes again, his body moving like molasses as he processes Clint. It feels like an eternity before he nods.
“I’m going to grab your boots. Can you find your hat?”
Bucky swallows, the shadows accenting the way his throat moves. “Yeah,”
Clint pats his shin. “I’ll be right back.”
Heading down the stairs, Clint finds Kate heating up the nachos already. “Classes going okay?”
“Clint, just do what you need to do. We don’t need to do small talk.” She says it with a smile so Clint knows she’s sparing him the small talk he keeps trying, despite hating it. He chuckles and grabs Bucky’s shoes from the rack by the door, pausing to pick up one of the tiny pink Nikes, rubbing his hand over the swish. Her swish shoes. She does her little swishy hips like she’s seen women do when they walk in heels. She’s going to be fine. It’s just a lot of information overload right now. It’s just new.
Clint takes the stairs back up two at a time, finding Bucky standing in his socks with his hat on. There are tear tracks on his face again. “Hey, baby, it’s okay. Here, sit. Get your shoes on. I’ll go get mine and meet you downstairs.”
One instruction at a time. His proficient, planned and calculated husband needs things step by step when he shoulders guilt like this. Clint’s learned a lot in how to care for Bucky from going to therapy with him a couple times.
They manage to get to the car and Clint drives this time. The car immediately starts playing a Latin song that America showed their daughter a few months ago when she came to visit. None of them knew what the song was talking about but suddenly a tiny voice was saying “soy yo” followed by an attempt at trumpet noises that usually involved a lot of spit. Clint scrambles to turn the radio off quickly, noticing as Bucky seems to melt in the passenger seat, cheeks shining with tears. He can’t remember the last time he saw Bucky cry this much. Maybe when she was born.
Twenty minutes to Waffle House. A quiet drive this time. He’s grateful it’s not the fighting kind of quiet. That always makes the twenty minutes feel like forty. The silence isn’t so loud tonight. Clint reaches over and takes Bucky’s hand, giving it a squeeze and stroking over his skin with his thumb.
The parking lot is fairly empty when they pull up. Bucky pulls Clint’s hand to his lips, giving the back of his hand a kiss before they get out. A wave of affection and belonging washes over Clint. As soon as they’re both out of the car, Bucky slides his hand into Clint’s, pressing his body close.
“Hi guys! You just come on in and find a place to sit. I’m coming with water!” Jeanine calls when they walk in. All the booths are open and Clint slides into the middle of the row, tugging Bucky with him. She’s right at their booth in a moment with water.
“The usual?”
Clint looks at Bucky who nods curtly. “Yes ma’am.”
“Chocolate milk?”
Bucky gives a little shake of his head. “I think we’ll do one chocolate milk and one apple juice.”
The way Bucky’s eyes rim with tears tells Clint all he needs to know. It’s the gratitude of being known, of experiencing a love like they have.
“So,” Clint starts, reaching out his hands like he always does when they start their waffle conversation.
Bucky looks at them, sniffles, and places his hands in Clint’s. “Hi.”
“It’s been a bad day.”
Bucky bows his head, lip quivering. “Yeah,”
“It’s not all bad news.”
Bucky looks up and sighs.
“She’s a good mix of us.”
“All the worst bits of me.”
Clint shakes his head. “No, my love. Not at all. Curls? Yours.”
“Blonde. Yours.”
“Blue eyes-”
“Don’t say mine. We both have blue eyes.”
Clint huffs. “Okay. Nerdy love of languages? Yours.”
“Micro-scarring inside organs from accelerated cell turnover? Mine.”
“Bucky, she heals quickly. I worry about her a normal amount but I’ve even less worried now. She’s stubborn and brilliant and heals quickly. All great things.”
“Overheating from cellular exhaustion is not a good thing.”
“Bruce is working on it. I’m sure he can help find something to regulate her body temperature.”
“And the sensory hyperacuity?”
Clint squeezes his hands. “Bucky, people live with sensory processing disorder. We’ll get her soft clothes and figure out a softer shower. We’ll get her those noise cancelling headphones for now and the loops when she’s a little older to help with the overstimulation stuff. That we can help regulate. And she could have just been born with that without you being a super soldier.
Jeanine returns, stuffing her pad in her apron. Clint tries for a smile but she just shakes her head and pats his shoulder. “Waffles are coming. Eggs too. And a biscuit with gravy.” She smiles at Bucky. “How’s baby girl?”
Clint sighs, glancing at Bucky who looks like a little raincloud, just without thunder today. “She’s good. Some genetic testing came back so we’re just figuring out next steps.”
“She’s a tough little cookie and you two are smart. She couldn’t have better dads. Best wishes, hun. Kid stuff is hard. Mine’s in college finally and he still needs me.” Jeanine rolls her eyes with a fond smile. “Bring her in though. She is almost due for birthday waffles.” Jeanine winks and disappears.
“Remember when all you thought she would need was iron?” Bucky teases.
“The good news is that the testing wasn’t that bad. And Tony confirmed that her blood was not kept.”
Bucky relaxes a bit at that. He had been so stressed about her blood being kept, about studies they hadn’t agreed to being run behind closed doors.
Clint leans in. “She’s still perfect. We’ll take vacations in cold places so she doesn’t overheat. We’ll buy soft clothes. And we were planning on putting her in gymnastics anyway so we’ll just watch the super strength and hyper mobility.”
“What about the delayed aging?” Bucky leans back against the booth.
“Why are you concerned? She was going to outlive us anyway.”
“She’ll hit puberty later than others. What if she feels awkward?”
Clint smiles sweetly. “I know your teenage years were different than most, but teenagers usually are awkward. She has two gay dads who are retired Avengers. Things are gonna be weird anyway, whether she gets boobs at the same time as everyone else or not.”
“I just want her to feel beautiful.”
“So we’ll make sure she does. We can handle that. I’m not great at being intentional sometimes but that’s why I have you. I know you’ll make sure she gets fresh flowers before some dusty man tries to convince her he’s special because he got her a rose.”
“We have years before dating.”
“Years. So we just need to focus on what Bruce said. Watch to make sure she’s not breaking anything that heals wrong because it healed too fast. Watching for dislocation, which is normal for kids. Balancing her diet since she’s hungry all the time. And helping with the sensory stuff.”
“We can do that.”
“Yeah, we can.”
Waffles, eggs, and a biscuit with gravy for Bucky slide onto the table and Jeanine is gone before Clint can thank her. It’s only then Bucky takes his hands from Clint’s. He cuts into his biscuit immediately and relief flood Clint. Bucky hasn’t eaten since they got the labs back this morning.
“I’m glad we did it, even though I didn’t want to at first.” Bucky murmurs, his eyes flicking up to find Clint.
“I’m glad we know. It makes me feel better knowing how to help her.”
“I just love her. I don’t want her touched more than she wants to be touched. It’s important that she has bodily autonomy, especially as a girl.”
Clint reaches over and places his hand on Bucky’s forearm. “I know, babe. And as she gets older, she can help make those decisions. But she’s almost three. She won’t eat carrots. And she thinks Steve is president. One step at a time.”
Bucky’s chuckles. “I love you, Clint.”
“Love you more, Buck.” Clint takes a bite loaded with syrup and egg. “So, about the backyard training gym.”
“Did you call about the permits?”
Clint rolls his eyes.
“We can’t build anything until we get permits. Tony already approved the designs.”
“Can’t we just ask for forgiveness?”
Bucky narrows his eyes.
“Fine. I will call tomorrow now that this is settled. Do you think she qualifies for Xavier’s?”
Bucky drops his fork. “She’s not a mutant!” He hisses, and Clint knows immediately he’s said the wrong thing. “You want to send her away?”
“No, not at all. I never want her to leave. But I want her to know kids like her. Have friends that understand.”
Bucky settles with a huff. “Okay, maybe she can visit. Or do a summer camp. But I’m not sending her to Xavier’s full time. She needs Coney Island in the off season and she needs to know how to navigate the trains and where to get good pastrami in the city.”
That makes Clint smile. “Oh, we’re going to raise a proper New Yorker.”
Bucky shoves a bit of biscuit slathered in gravy into his mouth, eyebrows stern. “Damn right.”