“We are so gone on this kid,” Bucky declares, shaking his head, and Steve has to agree.
They're at a loss again about what to do with him. Normally, they'd finish the dinner dishes and watch TV, but they both feel kind of bad just sticking the kid in front of the TV when they haven't gotten him to talk yet. Steve brings out his sketchbook and finds some colored pencils. Grant pulls out the black and immediately sets to work.
“Oh, he must like art,” Bucky says. “That makes sense.”
But when they look at his drawing, it's a floor plan of their kitchen and living room. There are little X's in some places.
“What are the X's?” Steve wonders aloud. As he says it, he realizes Bucky's jaw is clenched tightly.
“They're blind spots, Steve. The best places for an intruder to hide, or where a sniper wouldn't be able to get a shot.”
“They were training him to be an assassin.” It takes every ounce of self-control Steve possesses not to put his fist through the wall. Bucky just looks like he's going to puke.
“Hey, Grant?” Bucky tries to keep his voice calm but it wobbles slightly, so he clears his throat. “That's a great floor plan, kid. How about, uh...draw anything you want to draw. A puppy or something.”
Grant's brow wrinkles and Steve figures that's probably going to be his go-to response for their requests. “Want me to show you?” Steve asks. Grant, of course, says nothing, but he relinquishes the pencil without argument. Steve sketches out a quick drawing of a puppy, a happy dog-smile on its face and its tongue hanging out. Grant stares for a minute, eyebrows drawn together.
“Guess you don't have much experience with puppies,” Steve murmurs. Grant opens his hand. Surprised, Steve gives him the pencil. He dots the puppy with X's, just like the floor plan. Steve has to stand up and walk away, because each X corresponds to an internal organ. He blinks back tears and listens to Bucky murmuring to Grant in Russian. It's only been a few hours, but he already feels an overwhelming need to protect Grant. The fact that he only sees a puppy and assesses where to shoot it—Steve desperately wants to find the people responsible and line up some X's of his own.
Steve feels flustered. He’s never held a baby that small. Grant, obviously, had been a toddler when they brought him home. Thor and Jane had their daughters on Asgard and Steve didn’t hold either of them until they were at least a month old. She just looks so fragile.
“It’s okay,” Jaime soothes, settling her tiny little body in Steve’s hand. This is Jaime and Guadalupe’s sixth grandchild. They’re pros. “Just hold her head like this.”
“Hi,” Steve whispers down at her. “I’m your grandpa Steve.” He looks up at Bucky, tears in his eyes but laughing a little. “Natasha’s so happy that nickname is real now.”
Bucky is completely mesmerized. He can’t take his eyes off her, with her scrunched up little nose and her wild tufts of dark hair and the bow of her lips. Steve’s pretty sure that’s Bucky’s mouth in miniature there on her tiny face.
Grant’s smiling, too, and he pulls out his phone to get a picture of the three of them. Bucky’s got an arm around Steve’s back and one finger stretched out to touch the baby’s soft cheek. She reaches out and catches his finger in her hand, and Bucky lets out a little huff of air.
“She’s perfect,” he murmurs, voice thick. He’s been crying practically since they walked in the door.
No comments:
Post a Comment