Chapter Text
The fourth test was… dubious. A fifth and maybe sixth one might be necessary. Good thing he bought ten. Winter’s metal fingers rip the box open aggressively as his human hand pulls the plastic wrapped pregnancy test out of the box. He chucks the trash and sits there realizing his bladder is completely empty. He sets the unused test down on the side of the counter away from the four positive tests on the other side of the sink. To him it looks kind of like a tally sheet. Four for fucking up everything and one undecided. Fuck, he is so fucked. He looks down at the sink. He puts his metal hand through the bathroom tile before he realizes he’s punching something. That’s just bad control, he thinks as he removes his hand from the masonry. JARVIS will no doubt sound an alarm, someone is going to come stick their head in here and find all these damn sticks and him looking like an idiot. He throws them in a trash bag and chucks it next to the door to take out later.
Despite this looking weird he grabs a blanket and lays down in the bathtub. He does not have a programmed response for this. He doesn't even have a clue what James Bucanan Barnes would do in this situation. Cry? That is so not his style. His style is to brutally murder his target. He doesn't have one. If he does, elimination is not an option. The only thing worse than getting pregnant is losing his- Steve’s baby. Of that much he is certain. Steve is, of course, gone and out of contact. He won’t return for a few more weeks. He’s never needed his mate more in his life and he’s six thousand miles away.
He needs something from his stash.
.oOo.
Natasha is the one to come into his room and look over the bathroom. Bucky is curled up in the bathtub with a bag of Cheetos and the comforter off his bed. His metal fingers have Cheeto residue on them. He nods his head to her in recognition as he sucks them clean. Natasha looks horrified. His mother looked like this once when she caught him masturbating. The expression is strange and unpracticed on Natasha. She walks out of view, then a second later she’s standing in the doorway again.
“Whatever is happening here,” she gestures at him curled up in a bathtub eating Cheetos, “it scares me. Please fix it. If you don’t want to talk to me, fine. Have you heard of Darcy Lewis? Go find her.” With that advise she leaves.