A/N: hey dudes! It's been a hot minute, hasn't it? I'm truly sorry about my inactivity lately, and I know words don't fix it bit I hope they can be of any consolation as I say that now I'll be much more active. I was going through some things (aren't we all?) and thankfully I'm doing better. I wrote this a while ago on a rough day. Fun fact, my lower eyelashes are double layered.  No wonder there's always something getting in my eyes. Any tips to keep lashes from curling into your eyeballs would he greatly appreciated ty.

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Peter sniffled as the cold bit all over his small frame, he rubbed his arms tighter across his chest in an attempt to generate more heat. Peter hated the cold, it made him feel more small and vulnerable than he already was at this dangerous place. 

Peter was seated at the farthest corner of the door, chocolate-colored curls blocked his vision as the ten year old trembled slightly, panic and fear scrawled into his shaded irises. 

His papa, Bucky as the man had told him was on a mission of sorts. Peter hated the missions that his papa was forced to, but he knew the consequences of saying no. Peter, for instance, had an overwhelming amount of red lines broken into his skin, marked by at least three different knives. 

Everyday HYDRA hurt him. It wasn't enough that they had stripped him away of what little honor and humanity Peter had left, but to constantly reinforce the ideology of who was the superior and who the inferior was that left Peter weak and limp as blood refused to slow it's spill, leaving his papa to patch the boy up. 

Out of nowhere, the door that Peter dreaded for many reasons was thrown open and Peter bit his lip so hard a metallic taste flooded his mouth. 

In came the uniformed men that Peter loathed more than life itself along with his papa whose eyes shone emptily and distant. 

Peter was going to open his mouth but from the glint in his papa's eyes he knew otherwise.  

Two of the guards approached him and Peter shook his head pleading, "No, no, no, leave me alone. Get away from me, please!" 

The guards didn't bother arguing vocally, instead they grabbed Peter by an arm each and started to drag him away. 

Peter called out while weakly attempting to free himself, "Papa, please! Help me!” He frowned at the confliction in his papa’s eyes, something was captivating his papa and Peter hated when that happened. “Papa!’ He exclaimed while trying to get the men off him again, only to receive a slap on the face. 

That triggered Bucky to stand up and turn sharply toward the man who had delivered the blow to Peter. Before Bucky could do anything, a needle was thrust through the flesh of the veteran’s neck, subduing him. 

Peter was dragged into the room that he had grown to hate very well. The men threw him onto the medical table which was nothing more than a cold slab of metal and wasted no time in tying the boy up so that not even his accelerated strength could save him.  

From there, it was the same thing that always happened, but Peter couldn’t help but close his eyes as anxiety churned in his gut while he swallowed thickly, wishing that he could be anyone but here. 

He only opened his eyes when sharp metal pierced through his skin, drawing out not only crimson-colored liquid but a scream from Peter as well. 

“What have I told you about closing your eyes?”

Peter’s lip quivered as he choked out from the pain, “To not to.”

The metal was harshly plunged in Peter’s arm, pushing dangerously close toward bone, “To not to, what, you ignorant idiot?”

Peter quickly finished, “Sir, sorry, sir.”

The metal was swiftly withdrawn from his flesh and Peter screamed.

Peter whimpered as the man fiddled with the blade, tormenting Peter as the boy uneagerly anticipated his punishment for mere existing. 

This time, the man moved the blade over his heart. 

Peter's eyes bulged as protests slipped through his dry, cracked lips. "Wait, what? What are you doing, no, no, no! Stop, stop, please!" 

The man paid no heed to Peter's cries, instead lifted the blade only to bring it down and drive it into Peter's heart moments later. 

Peter screamed. 

The sound of screaming woke James "Bucky" Buchanan Barnes up. His eyes immediately shot open as he looked for the source of distress. 

Realizing that being safe at the Tower in their very own room, the only person that could've screamed was Peter. 

The veteran's heart immediately lurched at the idea of Peter getting hurt. When the father glazed over at his son, the boy was tossing and turning in his sleep as teary expressions spilled from the boy much like the water that came with it. The poor kid looked tortured to be in a fit of sleep. 

Bucky softened, remembering that Peter got bad nightmares, especially after being diagnosed with PTSD, much like the older man himself. 

He sat up while gently shaking Peter awake, "Peter, bud, wake up. You're having a nightmare, it's not real. You're safe in my arms at the Tower." He urged softly while moving a hand through Peter's stubborn chocolate-colored curls, "Wake up, darlin'." 

The soft cooing made Peter's eyes shoot open as he bolted upright with a sudden gasp as he trembled violently. 

Bucky pulled the panicking boy close to his chest and rocked him gently, "Hey, it's alright. You're okay Pete, we're safe. I promise. HYDRA can't hurt us, I promise." 

Peter's sobs didn't relent as he moved his worn head under the crook of Bucky's neck, "I can't!" 

"Can't what, kiddo?", inquired Bucky softly. 

Peter's voice was small and were it not for Bucky's accelerated senses due to a select soldier serum Bucky debated whether or not he'd have heard Peter. "I can't get them out of my head. It's stuck and there's too much."

Bucky shared a knowing look as he glanced down at the trembling bundle sandwiched in his arms, "I know the feeling bud, I know. It sucks so much, can you take a deep breath in and hold it for me, please?" 

Peter did as Bucky asked of him. 

Bucky then asked as he pressed a kiss to the top of Peter's head, "What's going on in that head of yours, hmm?"

Peter replied through a blur of tears, “There’s too many memories, papa, I can’t. They’re hurting me and it’s not stopping, I can still feel all of it. He’s going to kill me, papa, I’m so scared he’s going to come and take me away and kill me!”

Bucky stopped him as he cupped Peter’s face, forcing the fourteen year old boy to look up at him. “Bud,” Bucky started, “I want you to take in a deep breath for four seconds, and hold it for seven seconds. Then, for eight seconds, I want you to exhale. Three times the drill.”

After Peter had done so, the boy was finally able to calm down. 

Bucky wore a supportive smile as Peter moved his head back against the former’s chest and tried to make himself as small as possible. 

Bucky whispered soft soothes, “Hey, it’s okay. You, me, we’re okay.” He picked up Peter who had his arms slung around his neck, “You want to go for a drive? Some fresh air to clear your head bud.”

Peter nodded, still clinging to his papa as his trembling had reduced but was still there. He asked softly, “Can you carry me, please?”

Bucky smiled as he patted his son’s back, “Of course, bud. Let’s get you a hoodie and we’ll go.” He set Peter back down on the bed while he rummaged for some socks and Peter’s favorite hoodie and as promised, carried him down to the Avengers’ Tower’s garage. 

They walked past Tony’s endless collection of white 1982 Audis, orange Teslas, Steve’s ancient Mustang, Natasha’s range of military grade convertibles, to Bucky’s single Jeep Wrangler, with just as much comfort and oldish “mountain bad boy” vibes that Bucky always gave off. 

Bucky sat Peter inside and walked around the front while the teenager buckled his seat belt. Bucky hopped into his side of the car, and only once the car had turned on Peter noticed how late, or early depending on your perspective it was. 

Bucky seemed to pick up on Peter’s gaze and immediately reassured, “Pete, there’s nothing wrong with going out for some fresh air at three in the morning.” He cracked a joke in an attempt to lift up the boy’s spirits, “After all, this city never sleeps.”

Spirits somewhat lifted, Peter rested his head on the armrest console as he stifled a yawn. It was late, and whenever his anxiety caught up with him, staying awake was a little bit harder. 

Bucky moved a hand to card on Peter’s almond-tainted tresses while he used his metal one to drive. “So,” the father started, “I know how you’re feeling Pete, I honestly really do. It feels like you’re trapped somewhere else and all the things that’s happened are happening all at once but you know that you’re safe and your mind starts to panic cause it doesn’t know what’s real." 

"Yeah," echoed Peter. "I know we're safe now, but my mind still thinks that we're back there." 

Bucky offered as he continued pulling on Peter's curls, "But we're not there. We're here, living in the Avengers Tower safe as can be. The people that hurt you, us, they're dead. You just have to keep telling yourself that." 

Peter admitted quietly, "But, that's really hard." 

"I know," agreed the father, "that's why you're not alone. You have me, okay? If it gets too much and you feel like you can't calm down, you can always come to me. Whenever, wherever." He added as he made a turn, "And not just me. You're never alone kiddo. You have Steve and the team with you too. Alright?" 

Feeling much more calm with his papa's words and the change of environment, Peter nodded. "Alright, thank you." 

Bucky looked down at Peter and smiled, "Bud, you never have to thank me for taking care of you. Whether it's just making you feel better or getting you something, I'm your papa and I'm always going to keep you safe."  

Peter smiled softly as the Avengers Tower came back in sight. He added, "You too.”

Bucky raised a brow as his fingers caught on a knot in Peter’s hair, “What was that, bud?”

Peter replied as the father and son returned home, “You’re never alone either, you have me too. Even if I might not be able to help, I’ll do my best to take care of you too.”

A/N: it's my canon that Bucky drives a jeep and there's nothing you can do to change my mind. I just want to go for a midnight drive under the stars but I love sleep too much :(

I haven't checked my notifs recently as I've been working on the requests. I don't know what new requests are up but please keep them appropiate and I'll do my best to get to them. I'm not overly picky but something I won't ever write (please respect this) is smut. The only time I've written r*pe I didn't get to the details because I don't have the capacity in strength or energy to write.

Anyhow, what's up with y'all? How are you guys? What's going on? Spill the beans