Avengers Age Regression Oneshots

🍼💙🇺🇸Little again💭🖤🦾

Steve's hands shook as he stepped into the quiet Wakandan hut where Bucky had been staying. It had been so long—so many years thinking Bucky was gone, then seeing him twisted into Hydra's weapon. But now, here he was. Free. Whole.

Bucky turned at the sound of the door, his face lighting up in a way Steve hadn't seen in over seventy years. "Steve."

Before either of them could process it, Steve had crossed the room and pulled Bucky into a tight hug, his hands gripping Bucky's shoulders like he'd vanish if he let go.

"I missed you," Steve choked out, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I missed you too, punk," Bucky replied, his voice warm. He stepped back slightly, examining Steve's face. "You look exhausted."

Steve let out a shaky laugh. "You have no idea."

They sat down, and Steve found himself staring at the floor. For weeks, maybe months, he'd felt something bubbling under the surface—something soft and fragile that he'd buried deep after Bucky's fall. But now, sitting here with Bucky, safe and alive, it all started to come back.

Bucky noticed the way Steve's shoulders slumped and how he fidgeted with his fingers, a nervous habit from their childhood. "Steve... what's going on?"

Steve hesitated, biting his lip. "It's... nothing."

Bucky tilted his head. "Come on. You don't have to hide from me. Not anymore."

That was all it took. The dam broke, and Steve's words tumbled out, unsteady and raw. "I used to... when we were kids, I'd... get small sometimes. And you'd always be there, looking out for me. After you fell, I—" His voice cracked. "I couldn't. I didn't let myself. It hurt too much."

Bucky's expression softened as realization dawned on him. "Stevie," he murmured, leaning closer.

Steve wiped at his eyes, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I know it's stupid."

"It's not stupid," Bucky said firmly. "Not even a little. You've been carrying so much for so long. You don't have to anymore. Not with me here."

Steve's lip quivered as he looked up at Bucky. "You mean that?"

"Of course I do." Bucky reached out, gently placing a hand on Steve's shoulder. "You've always taken care of everyone else, but now it's your turn to be taken care of."

The words settled over Steve like a warm blanket, and for the first time in decades, he let himself sink into the feeling. His posture shifted, his movements becoming smaller, more hesitant.

Bucky's heart ached at the sight. "Hey, you wanna lie down for a bit?"

Steve nodded shyly, and Bucky led him over to the couch, grabbing a soft blanket from the corner. Steve curled up, clutching the edge of the blanket, his breathing slowing as he allowed himself to fully relax.

"Do you want anything, Stevie? Maybe some water? Or a story?" Bucky asked, keeping his tone light and gentle.

Steve peeked up at him. "Story?" he mumbled.

Bucky smiled, sitting down beside him. "I think I've got one or two you might like."

As he began recounting a silly tale from their Brooklyn days, Steve let out a soft giggle, the sound surprising both of them. Bucky's chest swelled with affection.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Steve was letting go. And Bucky was more than ready to be there for his little punk, just like he always had been.