Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was Sam’s idea. Of course it was Sam’s idea.

He was the one who was in touch with emotions (his own and others’) and dedicated his life to helping people as a PTSD counsellor. When he wasn’t in the office, Sam worked with struggling city kids nobody else could get through to. In turn, they absolutely adored him. And, while Bucky loved spending time with his nephews, Uncle Sam would always be their favourite.

Sam was always going to be the one who raised the question of kids. In hindsight, it was surprising he hadn’t suggested the idea sooner.

Likely, he was waiting for Bucky to settle into their new life together before they considered making any more changes. Adjusting to a normal, domestic life as a married couple hadn’t been easy for him. Although his struggles reduced from constant to a few times a week (as well as life-ruining to severe) life was still difficult for Bucky. Some days, he couldn’t function at all.

“Did you ever think about having kids?” Sam asked.

He was watching Bucky fuss over Alpine, who was the most spoilt cat in the entire world. As if to protest the idea, Alpine climbed up his arm and settled protectively around her dad’s shoulders. The man himself looked contemplative.

“Not really.” Bucky said, finally.

That was the end of the conversation. But the seed had been planted in his mind and Bucky found himself thinking about kids more and more often. Did he want to be a dad? Certainly, he half-raised his younger sister, Rebecca. He liked playing with AJ and Cass at family cookouts. But that wasn’t the same as being a dad. Would he even be capable of being a father, after everything he had seen and done? After everything he’d been through? His PTSD was still bad and would be for years to come. What would that mean for a kid?

Tentatively, Sam and him began to broach the topic. At first, the discussion was purely in hypotheticals: whether the spare room was big enough, how their schedules could possibly work around school hours, if they could afford the many expenses that came with children.

As time went on, however, the plan started to feel more real. While they snuggled up on the couch, Sam started looking into how adoption worked, Bucky’s head resting on his shoulder. During weekends, they cleaned some of the junk out of the spare room. Just in case. It was half-office, half-storage but quickly became empty. It was a visible manifestation of a ‘maybe’.

“I’d like a girl.” Bucky announced one day, over his mug of coffee.

Thoughtfully, Sam nodded.

Then, he replied: “If straight folks don’t get to choose the gender, I don’t know if we got the right to either.”

Privately, when they filled out the forms for foster agencies, Bucky still hoped they would be matched with a girl. Although he hadn’t known it before, he realised now he had always pictured himself with a daughter. Maybe it was because of Becca or Alpine. They didn’t discuss the matter out loud. But he got the impression Sam was secretly hoping for the opposite. Probably because he adored his nephews and had more experience looking after boys than he did girls.

Either would be fine, they agreed. But a girl would be his first choice, Bucky thought to himself.

-

They got a boy.

After the paperwork and orientation meetings were completed, they had a few false starts. Bucky tried not to feel too disappointed each time, since he knew the process was long and complicated. A meeting or appointment being cancelled wasn’t the end of the world. But the longer he waited, the more anxious he started to feel about the whole idea. Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe the difficulties were a sign it was the wrong time for this.

When they secured a meeting at a big foster home — one located several hours drive away — Bucky didn’t get his hopes up. He kept expecting to get an email or call to cancel, even as the date drew closer. On the morning itself, he checked his phone repeatedly, paranoid about the meeting falling through at the last minute. Sam did his best to soothe his nerves on the drive over, talking about mundane things and reaching over to rest a hand on his knee.

They argued, good-naturedly, over the shoddy directions they were following. Strangely, that made Bucky feel a little better. Like things weren’t changing completely.

The building was identical to every other one on the block and so indistinct they drove past it several times before Sam spotted the small sign. Standing on the front step, Bucky went over every interaction he’d ever had with a kid inside his head. It felt so natural when he kept an eye on Sam’s nephews or gave them a ride somewhere, as a favour to Sarah, but suddenly he couldn’t remember what he usually said or did. His mind was blank. He felt himself start to dissociate and squeezed Sam’s hand tightly, focusing on grounding himself again.

“If things get too much, you can get out of there.” Sam reminded him, “I’ll come up with an excuse. Tell them you have IBS or something.”

Bucky managed a weak chuckle.

When the woman in charge of the home let them inside, he didn’t like the vibe coming off her immediately. The place itself looked okay, if a little shabby. Bucky glanced into a few rooms they passed and found it strange how few toys were laying around, although some kids were crowded around a TV playing cartoons. Valentina might run a tight ship, but it didn’t look like a home.

The boy was waiting in the office, looking small in a chair designed for adults. His social worker was sitting next to him, talking in a quiet voice, while the boy listened with a serious expression. He had very dark, solemn eyes. His brown hair was long enough to fall in his face and starting to curl at the ends. None of his clothes seemed to fit right: the pants were baggy and his sweater sleeves covered his hands completely, as if he was trying to disappear.

Bucky recalled the snippets they were given from his file. Mother struggled with substance abuse and bipolar disorder, father physically and verbally abusive towards both. No wonder the kid wanted to vanish from sight. Immediately, Bucky understood how he felt.

“This is Robert.” Valentina said, as they all took seats around her desk.

“Bob.” The boy mumbled.

Although she didn’t acknowledge him and continued with her spiel, Bucky’s attention stayed on Bob. Understandably, the kid seemed shy. He met Bucky’s gaze for a brief moment, blinked rapidly, as if he had something in his eye, then looked away again. Too late, Bucky realised he had forgotten to smile at him. Sam cautioned him to remember his resting face was intimidating. Unfortunately, Bucky couldn’t help becoming blank and motionless under pressure.

He realised the room had fallen quiet and turned his head to look at Sam. With his eyes, his husband urged him to say something. When he realised Bucky was incapable of doing so, Sam stepped up and put on his most handsome smile.

“We’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Ro— Bob.” He corrected himself.

Bob’s face twitched, mouth forming something like a shy smile.

“Bucky’s a little nervous.” Sam jerked his head in his direction, “Ah, I’m probably throwing you off right at the start. We should do introductions up front. My husband’s name is James, but he prefers Bucky. And you can call me Sam. Bucky and Sam. That all good?”

The boy glanced between them, considering. He nodded.

“And Bob.” He said, a little louder than before.

“And Bob.” Sam nodded, mirroring him, “How about this? We can tell you a bit about us first and you can ask whatever questions you like. No question’s too stupid.”

“Ask Sam why he’s dressed like a youth pastor.” Bucky suggested, wryly.

Rolling his eyes, his husband ignored him and started to explain where they were from, what they did for work, and how they spent their free time. But Bob looked at Bucky with a crooked smile on his face — even though there was no way he understood the joke — and covered his mouth with both hands, as if he was stifling a giggle. Something sparkled in his eyes.

Every time he retold the story, Bucky swore he literally felt his heart melt at that moment. And it really did feel like that. Right away, he knew making a good impression on this kid was important. Some of the terror keeping his body (and face) completely frozen lifted. He leaned forward and managed to make his expression less scary, reminding Sam he hadn’t mentioned Alpine yet. Bob muttered something about liking cats. All three of them relaxed a little.

Any preferences Bucky had towards adopting a girl evaporated immediately.

-

As time passed, the process of adoption became more real than hypothetical. Every day, it seemed there was an aspect to discuss: whether it was the work they needed to do in their home, new papers or meetings to organise, or making regular trips to visit Bob (it became increasingly clear with each meeting he wasn’t a ‘Robert’ at all). Without realising, Bucky noticed he was talking about it when he met with Natalia for coffee, sharing his worries about being a good father.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She dismissed them, easily, “Lena’s always loved you.”

Yelena was her much younger sister, whom she became a legal guardian to in her early twenties. While Natalia took care of her, she was definitely a big sister figure rather than a parent. She tried her best to reassure him regardless, perched on top of a box (like a cat) and watching him assemble a bed from IKEA.

Once they emptied out the spare room, Sam and Bucky visited the furniture store to pick out the essentials for a kid’s bedroom. It should have been easy, but they pondered over what Bob might like and dislike. They wanted him to be comfortable. If he was alone, Bucky would have worked himself into a nonstop spiral of thoughts. But Sam assured him they could pick out generic things for now, build a room deemed acceptable by fostering services. If everything worked out — Sam said ‘when’, when everything worked out — Bob could personalise his room.

So, they kept it simple. It took a long weekend to paint the walls cream, the same shade as the living room. On his hands and knees, puzzling over the instructions, Bucky built a twin bed from pieces of ‘natural oak’. They threw in a new mattress too. The pillow and bedspread were plain white, like a hotel room, which proved to be a little too generic. After seeing the new room, Sarah donated an old knitted blanket to make the bed “less hospital” and more homely. Natalia swapped them a kiddie-sized desk and chair, since Yelena was getting the ones from their former office. Together, Sam and Bucky stripped down a secondhand dresser and repainted it.

A month after their first meeting, their home was approved. Permission was granted for Bob to visit for a day and the future date was set. Sam marked it on the kitchen calendar with a smiley face drawn underneath: Bob coming to visit!

In-between the two milestones, the three spent a handful of mornings and afternoons together. They visited a nearby city park, where Bob proved surprisingly shy of other children. He preferred to stick close to where they sat on a bench and watch. At Bob’s request, they spent an afternoon at the zoo and another at an art gallery. Most of the time, Bucky carried him on his shoulders to give him a better view. Him and Sam stood in front of a painting for a long time, discussing what the different colours meant intently. Bob seemed very insightful for an eight-year-old.

Despite being a small boy, Bob enjoyed quietly observing the things he found interesting rather than getting actively involved in them. He didn’t throw himself into playing. He preferred to read or watch other people. Hesitantly, Bob showed them dogeared library books from his backpack.

The day before Bob was due to visit their place, Bucky made an emergency diversion on his way home from a VA meeting. He stopped at IKEA to buy two simple shelves in the same wood as the bed, then carefully fixed them to the wall above the desk. From his own collection of books, he picked out a few age-appropriate classics to add to the shelves.

Bucky stood back to admire his work. His old friends J. R. R. Tolkien, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, and Louisa May Alcott sat sturdily in their new home. He knew he made the right decision.

-

It was a long drive from the foster home to their small house in the country, much of it along bumpy roads once they left city limits. In the backseat, Bob was increasingly quiet, despite Sam’s attempts to engage him in conversation. Maybe the kid was nervous. When Sam glanced at him, concerned, Bucky mouthed the potential explanation at him. He turned the radio to a local station he liked and decided to let Bob talk as little as he wanted.

From the corner of his eye, Bucky watched the boy grow progressively paler and more sweaty. He had some idea what Bob had been through at a young age, so it was understandable. Anyone else in his position would feel anxious too.

“You okay, Bobby?” He asked, quiet.

Bob took a few deep breaths, as if he were getting ready to answer, then pitched forward suddenly and was violently sick in the footwell of the car.

Calmly, Sam pulled over to the side of the road at the next available opportunity. Bucky popped open the trunk and started to clean out the car as well as he could, using what they had on hand. Standing on the grass, Bob trembled like a leaf and twisted the fabric of his ruined Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt in his fists. Tears streamed endlessly down his face as he blustered through apology after apology.

“It happens.” Sam said, kindly, “Next time, tell us if you’re feeling bad, okay?”

Bob nodded, even as he continued sniffling about how he didn’t mean to do it and he wouldn’t do it again. Realising his parents must have been angry about him doing something similar, Bucky himself felt sick to his stomach. Angrily, he stuffed the trash in a plastic bag.

“Hey, Buck. You got a spare shirt in the trunk?” Sam called over to him.

He didn’t. But he took off his outer shirt, a plain v-neck he wore over the long sleeved one, and brought it over. It would do until they got home and could throw the t-shirt in the washer.

“You’re never in trouble for being sick.” He said, softly, kneeling next to Bob on the grass, “Or needing the bathroom, or being hungry, or anything like that.”

It was something he had to learn himself as an adult.

Shielding Bob from the road with his body, Bucky helped him out of his shirt and pulled the clean one over his head. It dwarfed his small, narrow frame, falling down to his knees.

“Looking good, Bob.” Sam said, “Suits you better than the old man.”

Sniffing, the boy offered them both a weak smile. When Sam gave him the choice to turn around and return him to the foster home, visiting another day instead, Bob shook his head. He was determined to stick it out. Wiping away his tears, Sam told him how brave he was.

Surprisingly, Bucky felt relieved by his decision to stay. He realised he was looking forward to Bob visiting their house, seeing where he might live. He was excited about the possibility of the arrangement working out. For the first time, he allowed himself to imagine Bob living in their home — him and Sam being parents of this thoughtful, nervous little boy. They could be his parents.

Before, it felt unlucky to daydream about it. As they got back into the car, he let himself feel hope.

-

After Sam gave him a tour around the house, followed by a glimpse into the yard, it was a lot like their first meeting with Bob. Instead of sitting in Valentina’s office, they were in their front room. On the couch, Bob sat cross-legged and sipped a box of apple juice. Sam took the armchair, while Bucky hovered nervously at his elbow and refused to sit down. They made small talk.

While the kid was pleased with his bedroom, he didn’t want for much to put in it. The idea of having his own private space was already mind-blowing to him. Bob touched everything with great care, as if it was a store rather than a bedroom. As if it was magic. But when they ran low on small talk, Sam coaxed a few suggestions out of him. No wonder he was good at his job.

Alpine got up from her nap, stretched, and came over to investigate the visitor. She allowed Bob to give her a few gentle strokes and he seemed pleased.

It wasn’t long before they had to embark on the drive back to the city. This time, Bob was upfront to help with his motion sickness and fiddled with their ancient collection of CDs. The visit went well, all things considered, but Bucky still felt dissatisfied somehow. It felt like they spent more time on the road than they did with the kid.

“How about we plan an overnight stay?” Sam suggested, fingers tapping the wheel as they waited at a red light, “Or a weekend?”

“A whole weekend?” Bucky was hesitant.

“As long as it isn’t too much for you guys. Yeah, why not?” He said, “It doesn’t have to be some big thing. We can hang out at home, make dinner, play in the yard… Getting out of the dragon lady’s claws might be good for the poor kid.”

“A whole weekend…” Bucky mused.

Sam glanced over and smiled reassuringly at him: “Only when you’re ready for it, Buck. Give it some thought.”

He did.

-

The following week, they went on another shopping spree to pick out Bob’s meagre requests.

After a lot of gentle prodding, Sam managed to get his favourite colour out of him: dark blue. They picked out navy bedsheets with a cloud pattern, then got talked into matching curtains by the store clerk. Rugs proved to be expensive, so they picked up one a neighbour was selling and cleaned it up. It was checked with different shades of green, which had faded with age.

A few days later, they stopped by Barnes and Noble. Bucky interrogated a worker extensively about the different books in the ‘age 6-8’ section, using a list of books he knew the kid already liked. He acquired a whole bag of fantasy and science fiction, snagging the receipt in case Bob wanted to exchange them for something different. He even got some books from the ‘9-12’ section, since the sales assistant guessed Bob might be at a higher reading level than other kids.

Once ensuring Bucky wasn’t traumatising the employee, Sam collected coloured pencils, blank notebooks, and a set of paints with a brush included. Shyly, Bob confessed he liked to draw sometimes. It seemed like a good idea to encourage his creative side as much as possible.

The spare room — Bob’s bedroom they started to call it — looked much cosier with the new additions. Bucky couldn’t help feeling proud of their work. But Sam had a final idea, which he took a little convincing to get behind. He didn’t want to overstep. In the end, Bucky came around to it and they framed a photo of the three of them at the zoo.

It hadn’t been their idea to take a ‘family’ picture. Sam was snapping one of the other two (Bucky lifting Bob up so he could get a better view of the meerkats), when a friendly mother with a fanny pack and clan of children asked if he wanted a photo of ‘the whole family’. He wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea so soon, but the stranger insisted. Turning around, Bucky set the kid down and Sam shuffled into position beside him. They all looked a little nervous in the picture, unprepared. However, they did resemble a family unit, each of them resting a hand on Bob’s shoulder. Sam looked caring, smiling warmly down at him. On the other side, Bucky looked fiercely protective. Bob was grinning with his teeth, showing off the gaps between them.

Sam hammered a nail into the wall, so they could hang the photo there. It felt like a good sign.

Bucky suspected it would take a while for the weekend visit to be processed and approved. But he was relieved they would be ready when it happened.

Chapter Text

The last time he had visited Sam and Bucky’s place (a shotgun house in the country), Bob liked it fine. It was nicer than the cramped, tumbledown bedroom he shared in the foster home. He liked the pleasant guest room with its neat bed, child-sized furniture, and calm atmosphere.

Compared to home, in fact, everything was quiet and peaceful. He could hear birds singing in the trees outside. Alpine was a special bonus, even if she was mischievous and liked to leap up onto the coffee table and knock mugs over with a swish of her fluffy white tail.

Despite this, he felt nervous about staying there for an entire weekend. Bob struggled to put his finger on exactly what he was worried about. He was anxious for most of the drive there, enough for Sam to ask several times if he needed to pull over. Thankfully, Bob only threw up once and it was deftly on the side of the road. He thought Sam and Bucky might hate him for being so annoying, but nobody threatened to take him straight back to Valentina. Instead, Sam rubbed his back soothingly, large hand between his shoulders, and gave him a mint to suck on.

At his suggestion, Bob carried his backpack into the guest room and dropped it onto the bed, which had new blue sheets he really liked. Bucky brought in the plastic grocery bag containing the rest of his belongings. There were a few changes to the room since Bob last visited and he went straight to inspect the additional books on the shelves. He could tell they were brand new by the price stickers, plus he doubted Bucky and Sam had middle grade books lying around. Something squirmed happily inside his stomach, knowing they were for him.

Still, the amount of gifts Sam and Bucky gave him made him feel guilty too, especially since he wasn’t being as well-behaved as he could be. In order to deserve his various presents, Bob swore he wouldn’t get sick or have any nightmares or shed a single tear for the rest of the weekend.

“You doing okay, bud?” Bucky asked, setting the bag next to his other one.

Regardless of his nerves, Bob thought about it for a moment and realised he was doing okay. It felt good to be here (a place he felt safe) with Bucky and Sam (people he felt safe with). Maybe it was unfair to Valentina, who had been gracious enough to care for him, but he liked this house much better than his one in the city. He nodded.

Neither of them were ready to hug yet. Although Sam and Bucky were the nicest potential foster parents he had met — as well as the only ones to spend so much time with him — they didn’t beg him for hugs or affection. Unlike others, they were polite enough to respect his boundaries.

He could tell from the way Bucky’s shoulders were tight and his face was blank, he was worried about the weekend too. So, Bob slid his hand into the man’s big, rough one for the first time. He felt Bucky startle slightly at the touch, then the hand closed around his. Together, they walked back into the living room where Sam was waiting.

-

For dinner, Sam didn’t take a preprepared meal out of the freezer. He didn’t even glance in the direction of the microwave. He cooked from scratch, using raw ingredients, like beef, lettuce, tomatoes, and pickles. The lettuce didn’t come already shredded in a bag — he had to cut it up himself. Bob stood on a chair by the kitchen counter to watch and hand over containers of seasoning when requested. He was allowed to spread mayonnaise and Creole mustard on thick slices of bread, then carefully layer each element of the sandwich with Sam’s help.

They ate sitting around a table, all three of them together, while Alpine was restricted to Bucky’s lap. She was permitted a small piece of sliced beef from Bob’s sandwich.

Although the TV was switched off while they ate, Bob was allowed to watch cartoons after he finished his dinner. While Bucky washed the dishes, Sam watched television with him, occasionally chuckling to himself. It took Bob by surprise when they took turns doing chores, something he was used to his mom doing because his dad worked all day. He felt a sudden pang of longing for his parents, who hadn’t visited in over a year now. Bob slid down the couch.

After Bucky joined them for a show or two, Sam turned the TV off again and suggested they go outside for a walk. It was warm out. Bob didn’t have to wear a jacket over his sweater. He wore his tennis shoes though, which ended up getting covered in mud. Since Sam and Bucky knew the area well, they went off the trail and wandered through the wilderness for a little while. At first, Bob felt unsure about being out there, but adjusted after he realised there was nowhere for alligators to lurk. He stuck close to Sam and Bucky anyway.

Back home, it was Sam who coached him through changing into his pyjamas, brushing his teeth, and climbing into the unfamiliar bed. Bob felt a little indignant at being treated like a baby, when he was more than capable of taking care of himself. But he worried about getting in trouble if he tried to argue, so he kept his mouth shut. He was on his best behaviour.

Even though he was tired, Bob didn’t fall asleep for a long time after he was left alone. Instead, he watched the light from the main room creep under his door and listened to the soft murmur of deep voices. He wondered what Sam and Bucky talked about when it was only the two of them. With his parents, there had never been any question. The yelling had always been loud enough to hear every single word, even from his secret hiding place in the attic. Again, he missed them.

Some time later, he heard Bucky or Sam retire to their bedroom. Later, Sam or Bucky joined him. Then, the entire house fell quiet, aside from the occasional creek of the building settling or the scuffling of wildlife in the yard. No voices. No footsteps. It felt a little spooky.

Bob laid there for hours and hours, until he fell asleep.

-

Following the success of the first weekend, Bob spent more time with his prospective parents. It was alternate weekends, which he found hard to keep track of, then it was every weekend, which was less muddling. Eventually, the idea of spending an entire week at Sam and Bucky’s was suggested to him by his social worker, who was pleased with his progress. Apparently, he was ‘right on track’ to be adopted at the start of the new year. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Making good progress meant rarely being sick on the drive over and never when they made short trips, such as visiting the supermarket or the library. It meant he had a drawer full of clothes in his bedroom at Sam and Bucky’s. A few shirts, pants, and pyjamas were bought specially for this purpose, when they visited a department store. Good progress was finding it easier to drift off to sleep, especially after Bucky bought him a white noise machine to keep by his bed. It was the time they picked him up from Valentina’s and he ran to hug Sam with excitement.

But there were problems too.

The nightmares still came two or three times a week, along with a random combination of screaming, crying, vomiting, sweating, and bedwetting. It was humiliating to be woken up by Bucky and informed gently he was having a bad dream. Bucky had bad dreams too. But his didn’t end up with sheets and pyjamas being thrown in the washer, while he yawned his way through a shower in the middle of the night. It made Bob perpetually tired.

His grades were still low too. Although they didn’t say it, his social worker expected them to shoot up once he was in a ‘nurturing’ environment. When he remained flailing at the bottom of his class, hopeless, everyone was concerned. The social worker. The school. Sam and Bucky. The plan was for him to switch to a school closer to where his foster parents lived, but now they were questioning if the change would plunge him into academic failure. Bob himself felt like a failure already. No matter how long he stared at his homework, Sam trying to explain it to him, he didn’t seem to understand. He started zoning out, at home and in class.

“I’m stupid.” Bob said, repeatedly.

Although he loved spending time with Sam and Bucky, he had his doubts about moving too. It wasn’t only the concept of changing schools, losing his friends and the familiar environment. He was also worried about his ‘new life’ becoming permanent. It felt like betraying his parents, as well as admitting things would never return to the way they used to be. His social worker and newly acquired counsellor prodded at him to share these insecurities. For whatever reason, Bob couldn’t do it. He found himself shutting down instead, turning mute and disconnecting from his body. His mind floated away, going somewhere else entirely.

-

One summer morning, Bob was woken up by singing, instead of the warm sun streaming through the curtains. He sat up in a daze, letting go of the stuffed toy tiger (purchased from the zoo gift shop) he cuddled when he slept here. Sam and Bucky entered his room, one of them singing a little more enthusiastically, the other carrying a tray. It was set on top of his lap.

There was a plate of pancakes, topped with butter, maple syrup, and rainbow sprinkles. A candle shaped like the number 9 was stuck into the pile and burning brightly. When they reached the end of the song, Bob took a deep breath and blew out the flame.

“Happy Birthday.” Bucky said, smiling fondly at him, “I couldn’t stop him.”

Sam gave Bob’s unruly curls a ruffle: “Nine’s an important birthday.”

Celebrating his birthday with his foster parents was a bittersweet occasion. No matter how special they tried to make it, Bob couldn’t help feeling disappointed he was spending another birthday without his birth parents. Neither of them had sent a card. He wasn’t sure whether they knew the address, even if they wanted to send one. After he finished his rainbow pancakes, he had a private cry in the bathroom before he brushed his teeth.

Bucky and Sam got him a card, which both of them signed. He pressed it inside one of his favourite books to keep it safe and make sure he didn’t lose it. There were gifts too, which were wrapped in ocean-themed paper and tied with blue ribbons. Inside the biggest parcel was a midnight blue backpack to replace his old, beaten-up school bag. The smallest was a Rubik’s cube. His favourite gift, however, was a stack of secondhand superhero comics.

They offered to throw a party, inviting his friends from school and foster care. But Bob declined, partially because he was shy and partially because he knew they wouldn’t be his friends soon. Not once he moved out to the country permanently. Seeing them more often would only make it harder to let go. He lied through his teeth and told his friends he wasn’t allowed a birthday party, which made him feel bad because he wasn’t supposed to tell lies anymore.

However, Bob enjoyed the trip to the aquarium with his foster parents. Bucky suggested the idea, since he loved seeing animals at the zoo so much, and it was the right call. He loved seeing the different fish and crustaceans and mammals (Sam bought him a guidebook before they went in, so he could read about the sea creatures they were looking at). The whales were his favourite.

Because it was his birthday, they went to Five Guys for hamburgers and fries. Bob was happy to sit between his foster parents in the vinyl booth, unwrapping the silver foil from his burger. He got a milkshake too. It didn’t take away the memories of his last eight birthdays, good and bad, which kept popping into his head unprompted. There was a strange emptiness inside him as he dipped his fries in his milkshake, even though it tasted really good. Sam noticed.

“It’s okay if your feelings are complicated.” He said, hand on Bob’s shoulder.

They were watching Bucky wrestle with the parking meter across the lot. Bob stopped staring in amusement and looked up at Sam instead, wide-eyed. He felt guilty for being caught looking less than happy. Everyone knew you were supposed to be happy and grateful about being adopted.

“Ain’t good to keep them inside all the time.” Sam continued, meeting his eyes, “Pretending to be happy never helped anybody. You’re allowed to feel… whatever you feel.”

Bob nodded, although he wasn’t so sure. He looked down at his sneakers.

“You remember what I do for work?” Sam asked.

“You help people.” Bob replied.

“I help people.” He nodded, “I help people with their feelings. People like you, who haven’t had things so easy. So, if you want to talk about things — anything — we can do that. Whenever.”

Head still down, Bob scuffed his shoes against the ground. He considered the idea of sharing his thoughts and feelings with Sam, something he struggled to do with his counsellor. Maybe it would be easier. But there was also a possibility it would be harder.

After a minute of silence, he spoke up: “Do I need to make an appointment?”

It made Sam laugh, softly, not in an unkind way. Then, he reassured Bob he could talk to him or Bucky about anything he wanted at anytime, no appointments required. Bucky returned from the meter, looking triumphant, and they got into the car to go home.

Swinging his legs, Bob weighed up which movie he wanted to put on the TV tonight. After all, it was his birthday and that meant he got to choose. Probably the Spongebob one.

-

The girl standing in front of him, hands on her hips, may have been a few years older than him. But there couldn’t have been more than an inch difference in their height. It had been a while since Bob spent time with other kids and he forgot he was taller than average. Not to mention, he was still growing. Sam said he was going through a growth spurt, since he ate so much cereal and sometimes experienced random ‘growing pains’.

All business, the girl surveyed him with cool blue eyes. Then, she spoke quickly in what sounded like gibberish. Bucky shot something back. Before the girl could reply, he held up a hand.

“English.” He said.

Yelena was improving her English, since it was her second language. Bob was working on his social skills, in preparation for changing schools in the new year. In order to aid them both, their respective guardians organised a playdate. Though, Bob wasn’t sure why a middle school girl would want to hang out with a boy who hadn’t even graduated elementary school yet.

Smiling, Yelena straightened up: “You want to play soccer, Bob?”

He was desperate to make a good impression, for his own sake and his parents’, so he nodded fiercely. In reality, Bob was usually picked last for sports teams because he was uncoordinated and prone to getting by a stray ball. He didn’t like to run or shout or sweat. If he had his way, they would spend the afternoon sharing books or playing a board game.

Bob traipsed outside, into the small yard, and watched Yelena bounce a soccer ball on her knee. From looking at the photos on the wall of their apartment, he knew she played for a real team. He was so nervous, he tripped over the ball when he tried to kick it. Now, Bob felt mortified.

But she took his hand and helped him up, laughing. Then, Yelena showed him the best way to kick the ball and he practiced until he got it. They took turns passing it back and forth. By the time he had watched Yelena turn a cartwheel, hold a perfect handstand, and bounce a ball on her head, Bob knew she was the coolest person he had ever met.

Her sister Natalia made Kraft mac and cheese, which they ate on the couch in front of the TV. In the next room, Bucky and Natalia spoke in a fluent mix of languages. Quietly, Bob resolved to take out a book which would help him learn Russian, the next time they visited the library. He didn’t enjoy feeling left out of their conversations, only picking up the occasional English word.

“I wish you were in my grade.” Bob blurted out, during a commercial break.

There was a hint of amusement in Yelena’s eyes, but she didn’t make fun of him. She patted him fondly on the head, as if he was a pet dog.

“Me too, Bob.” She said.

-

Sam and Bucky pushed for the adoption to go ahead before the holidays, so Bob had time to settle before the new year. Besides, Sam pointed out, wouldn’t it be nice to spend celebrate them together? He made it sound like a good thing.

Bob wasn’t so sure. As far as he remembered, Christmas made for a stressful week, which meant things got hot and loud and scary. He didn’t like it much, definitely didn’t get excited for it like his classmates did. But he preferred the idea of spending the long Christmas break with his foster parents, rather than the mean Valentina and the rest of her kids. Some of them were mean too.

He was Jewish, inherited from his mom, but they always had Hanukkah and Christmas. Other kids were jealous he got twice as many gifts. Honestly, Bob would have forfeited the gifts if it meant the big blow-up fights — which happened more often in December — stopped.

This year, Sam and Bucky got him a gift for Hanukkah. Neither of them were Jewish, but the former offered to take him to a nearby temple for the celebratory service and then he actually did it. Bob didn’t remember going to temple except when he was really small. It was nice to be there with Sam, even if they had to have a ‘little chat’ with the rabbi and several other people beforehand. His foster dad was really into having ‘little chats’ with people.

The adoption took place about a week after. Bob was surprised how mundane it was, little to no ceremony at all. It only seemed to involve signing documents, which was really boring. Like buying a used car. When Bucky caught him staring out the window, he pulled an exaggerated ‘I’m bored out of my mind’ look. Bob returned it, crossing his eyes. It made Bucky laugh, so he had to fake a coughing fit to cover it up. He patted Bob fondly between his shoulder blades.

Afterwards, Sam and Bucky took him out for ice cream to celebrate. He was allowed two different scoops in his dish because it was a special day, so he got one of cherry garcia and the other of cookies and cream. Before he ate it, Sam made him pinky promise he wouldn’t puke all over the backseat of his car again. It seemed like a joke, but Bob didn’t want to make his new foster parents mad immediately so he nodded sincerely.

Briefly, they discussed what Bob might want to call them. The question was a confusing one.

He pointed out he already had a Dad, wherever he was, so he didn’t want to call either of them ‘dad’. Father was too formal. Papa, he objected, was babyish. Pa might fly in Louisiana, where Sam was from, but it would sound silly in his Florida accent. In the end, it was decided he would them by their names still. The ‘foster’ would stay firmly attached when referring to his dads or parents, in order to distinguish them from his biological ones. He was keeping his last name too.

He didn’t have any nightmares on the first official night with Sam and Bucky as his guardians. Perhaps that was a sign of good things to come.

-

Christmas and New Year were kept as lowkey as possible.

His deep-held worries about the holidays finally came out, after he got so sick Sam started talking about calling for a doctor. He thought it might be gastric flu, maybe a food allergy. Bob wasn’t faking his headaches or vomiting. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t know how. They were ‘psychosomatic complaints’, the new therapist Dr “Please Call Me Stephen” said. He was feeling bad in his head, so it made him feel bad in his body.

The idea of starting at a new school also made him feel bad, but this was called ‘anxiety’ and Bob was familiar with it already. Before his old counsellor had mentioned anxiety, it felt like a friend he had known since birth. He was riddled with it.

The new school was closer to Sam and Bucky’s home, only a short drive into the nearby city. There was also a bus he could take there, with the kids who lived close to them, but Bob didn’t need to worry about that right now. Instead, Bucky would drive him there and pick him up afterwards, so Sam could get back to working more regular hours. He didn’t realise Sam had been taking time off work for his visits.

True to his word, Bucky took him to school for his first day. They’d visited the school before, to get Bob registered there and look around, but it seemed scarier when all the kids were gathered in the yard. They clustered in little groups, talking about the holidays and showing each other videos on their phones. Looking around, Bob felt his anxiety come over him in a wave.

When the bell rang and the other kids filtered into the classroom, they hung back. Bucky walked him inside, the flesh hand resting on his shoulder, and spoke to the teacher in a low voice. Miss Gold already knew he would be joining the class today. Still, she gave him a nice smile and showed him where to hang up his jacket, scarf, and gloves. Then, Miss Gold took him to his desk and he sat down in the small, plastic chair. He felt small too.

By now, Bucky had retreated to the door. Bob felt another seize of panic about him leaving, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He returned Bucky’s wave nervously.

A few of the kids snickered at his name when Miss Gold introduced him to the class, but nobody was outright mean to him. Bob kept his head down and tried to focus on his writing assignment, describing his winter vacation with the adjectives written on the board. He found it hard to concentrate and ended up doodling in the margins instead, so he didn’t finish in time for recess.

He knew from the last time he switched schools that recess and lunch were the worst part of the day for the new kid. Everyone in his class huddled in groups or hung out in pairs, sitting in the same spots they did last year. Bob ended up wandering around the playground by himself, trying to work out how long it was until he went home. Lunch was even worse. Bob sat alone at the end of a table, a cluster of kids at the other end glancing at him and giggling. He picked at his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, finding his appetite had disappeared.

Their afternoon math lesson made him feel stupid. No matter how hard he tried, Bob couldn’t follow what they were supposed to be doing. He spent most of the hour staring out of the window instead. Science was easier to understand, but they had to work in pairs and nobody wanted to be his partner. Miss Gold paired him with Caleb Walker, who acted like it was Bob’s fault. He made it clear he wanted to work with his friend instead. They didn’t talk to each other much.

It was a relief when the final bell of the day rang and Bucky came to rescue him. Bob was too embarrassed to hug his foster dad in front of everyone, but when they were safely in the car, he promptly burst into tears. Slightly alarmed, Bucky rubbed his back until his crying subsided and drove him straight to get ice cream. Neither of them cared it was too cold for ice cream.

When they got home, Bob went into his room and closed the door behind him. He crawled on top of his bed and laid facedown there, falling asleep with his nose pressed into the pillow. Later, Sam woke him up with his dinner on a tray and let him eat it right there, as long as Bob was careful not to spill. They talked a little about school. Although Sam reassured him things would get better, it didn’t exactly stick. Bob missed his old school. He missed his old friends. His old life.

Bucky let him have ice cream (from the pint in the freezer this time) after dinner too.

-

“I had a nightmare last night.” Bob said.

He was curled up on a comfy chair in Dr Stephen’s office, playing idly with the Rubik’s cube he found in the toy box. It wasn’t so bad working with his new therapist. Though, new was a relative term. Over the last few months, they got to know each other pretty well at weekly appointments. But Bob didn’t tell him everything. He kept a lot of thoughts to himself.

Dr Stephen gestured for him to continue.

“It started out like normal, with my dad getting really mad and trying to break into our house.” Bob said, “But then, it changed. I went to school and we took a test. I didn’t know any of the answers. When I went to hand in my test, Sam was the teacher. He said I got zero percent.”

Thoughtfully, his therapist hummed: “What happened next?”

“Then I woke up.” Bob shrugged.

It wasn’t one of his worst nightmares. He hadn’t wet the bed or woken up screaming, though he still had those dreams from time to time. Still, it bothered him. Bob had half-hoped the nightmares would stop completely once he was ‘settled in’ as his social worker suggested. Maybe something was wrong with him. Dr “Please Call Me Stephen” said the dreams were about what he was scared about deep down, in his subconscious. Like a submarine.

“What do you think it means?” He asked.

Dr Stephen smiled: “What do you think it means?”

For the second time, Bob shrugged his shoulders up to his ears. He wasn’t a psychologist but he could guess at what his subconscious was trying to tell him. Of course, he still feared his abusive father and worried he might somehow track down where it was Bob lived now. It probably wouldn’t happen (his dad hadn’t been particularly upset about him going into foster care and had only visited him once at Valentina’s place) but he couldn’t help being afraid.

He knew his grades at school were bad. When he was supposed to be asleep, Bob heard his foster parents discussing the matter in worried voices. They were talking about him taking more tests — ADHD, dyslexia, hearing — but that was the last thing Bob wanted. There was nothing he was worse at than tests. Just thinking about it made his palms sweaty.

“I don’t want Sam and Bucky to be disappointed in me.” He said, looking at the cube he was fiddling with rather than his therapist.

“That would be unpleasant.” Dr Stephen agreed, “But I think it’s highly unlikely that will happen.”

Bob must not have look very convinced, because the therapist flipped to a fresh page in his notebook and wrote something down. When he held it up to show Bob, there were two words printed on the page: ‘conditional’ and ‘unconditional’. Dr Strange explained these were different types of love. Conditional meant only liking people when they do what you want, like how you make friends with nice kids and break friends with mean kids. Unconditional meant loving someone no matter what they did. Even if they were mean. Even if they did ‘bad’ things.

“The love your foster parents have for you is unconditional, Bob.” He said.

But how could he know that for sure?

Now, something else was on Bob’s mind too. When he had acted out at home — forgetting to do his homework, speaking up against his dad, hiding the strange pills his mom took every hour or so — he got the distinct feeling his parents didn’t love him anymore. Maybe they even hated him. Why had their love been conditional? Wasn’t it a mom and dad’s job to love their kid?

Despite everything that had happened, Bob hadn’t stopped loving his parents. Sometimes, he missed them so much it ached. He didn’t want to return to the bad times, obviously. But there had been a lot of good times too. Moments where he felt his parents really did love him deep down.

He wondered whether that was still true.

-

The party was small.

There was only eight of them: Bob, Sam, Bucky, Natalia, Yelena, Sam’s sister (Auntie Sarah) and her two kids (who were Bob’s new cousins). Before the party, Bob had only met his new relatives twice and knew there were plenty more he needed to meet soon. However, it was hard to be shy around his aunt and cousins because they were so nice to him. At the summer barbecue, AJ and Cass even let him tag along and join in with their games.

This time, it was too cold to play outside, so the four kids were cooped up in the main room, taking turns on Bob’s new Nintendo console. It was a gift he had unwrapped that morning, after he woke up and found it sitting at the foot of his bed. Even though he had explicitly asked for it, he was still surprised Sam and Bucky actually bought him one. It was expensive.

“Kids these days and their screens.” Sam said, shaking his head.

There was a shriek from the couch, as Alpine leapt up in front of the TV and blocked the screen. She walked back and forth without a care in the world, magnificent tail further obscuring the view. Yelena lost the game and demanded a rematch.

“You make us sound so old.” Natalia groaned.

But Sarah agreed: “I have to put parental locks on the kids’ phones. Otherwise, they’d be on them 24/7 and turn into zombies.”

Bob, who was sitting on the arm of the couch and waiting patiently for his turn, perked up. He already knew his cousins had phones, since he’d seen them using them in the past. Occasionally, one of them showed him a funny video on the screen.

“Hey, can I have a phone?” He asked.

After all, Bob turned ten years old a few months ago. A lot of kids in his grade had a phone. Not to mention, he was definitely mature enough for one now. But Bucky and Sam exchanged a look which told him straightaway that he had another year or two to wait. They were old school.

“When you’re older.” Bucky said.

“But I am older. I’m getting older every day.” Bob argued.

Then, he froze, wondering if he was going to get in trouble. All the grownups laughed and Bucky moved close enough to pull him into a one armed hug, ruffling his hair fondly. When he talked back to his foster dads, they never got mad at him. Usually, they were pleased. Sam always said how good it was that he was coming out of his shell at last. When Bob did do something wrong, he never got yelled at. Instead, they would have a ‘little talk’ about it.

Even though it wasn’t anyone’s birthday, Sam had made a cake anyway. Actually, Sam and Bob made it together yesterday. Since Bucky was having one of his ‘bad days’, he stayed in his room and they kept the volume down. It was great fun, regardless. The cake was two tiers with cream and strawberry jelly sandwiched in the middle, while the icing was made with peanut butter. Bob did most of the decorating himself and felt proud with how it turned out. If only they did home economics at elementary school. He could finally get a good grade.

It had been a whole year since Bob’s official adoption, so they stuck a candle shaped like the number one in the top of the cake. He was supposed to blow it out, but he insisted on Sam and Bucky doing it with him. After all, it was a family party. He thought Bucky’s eyes looked wet, as if he was going to start crying, but perhaps it was because of the smoke.

When Sam cut up the cake for everyone, he gave Bob a big slice with lots of icing. Instead of taking the plate from him, Bob hugged him tight. His arms weren’t long enough to reach all the way around his foster dad yet, so he clung to his side.

Leaning down to grab him, Sam was just about strong enough to lift him up. He made a show of groaning and pretending he was going to drop him, though he held Bob securely. Bob was getting taller every day now. It wouldn’t be long until he would be too heavy for either of his foster dads to carry him, which was fine because he wasn’t a baby. But he might miss it a little bit.

“Happy?” Sam asked.

Bob nodded.