☆ pluto ☆

• For a very long time the only little items he owned were stuffed animals, 3 to be exact.

• His favorite was a toy he had when he was an infant. A small, handsized duck aptly named "ducky", because it's (she's) a baby toy she has sewn black eyes instead of beads, and after years of Tim sleeping with her she has gotten a little gray and worn, but Tim is always gentle with her (and if she ever does get hurt, it's not like they're short on people who know how to stitch things up)

• Because of how long he has had her, Tim can get anxious about losing or misplacing her-- so when he is little she will always be in his hand, or sitting in his line of sight (unless he is out of the house, in that case someone -usually Alfred- will take a photo of her to soothe Tim's worries)

• Very few people are allowed to hold her (Dick, Alfred, Cass, maybe Bruce), and typically that is reserved for when he cannot do it himself. Preferably when this happens she is still in his line of sight.

• His second stuffie is an off-white bunny somewhat larger than ducky, with bead black eyes, who is named "Bunny" (are we sensing a pattern here?).

• He got Bunny when he was about 4 years old from his Mom; although she never spent much time with him, he has a vivid memory of going out with her to a summer market in Gotham. It was there when, after spending a good five minutes staring longingly at a toy stall that his Mom brought him over and let him pick one plushie, which was Bunny. He remembers his Mom asking what he was planning on calling him and her loud sparkling laughter that followed after he answered (although, at the time he couldn't figure out what was so funny). It was one of the few good memories he had with her.

• Typically Bunny resides on his bed, but whenever he's thinking about his Mom, Bunny will inevitably begin accompanying Ducky in his hands.

• His final toy was a dark brown bear with bead black eyes, that is the largest of the three. His fur is long enough to run your fingers through (which Tim does religously) and has a reddish hue to it.

• Dick was the one who gave him to Tim, all the way back at his 13th birthday, when he was freshly starting out as Robin

• His Mom and Dad couldn't make it to celebrate, something that Tim mentioned off-hand after patrol one night. Tim honestly was fairly apathetic to the whole ordeal, his birthday was never a big deal so it wasn't like he was disappointed.

• Bruce was out of town that week (as he was incredibly often during Tim's Robin era!??) and so Tim didn't have patrol, so he was just planning on playing some videogames after school, maybe ordering a pizza.

• Colour him shocked when he opened his door and had to promptly defend himself from the flying grayson as Dick jumped to hug him. It was a small get-together of just Babs, Dick, Alfred, and of course Tim but it was probably the best birthday Tim ever had. In which Dick gifted him both the new addition of W&Ws and the teddy bear (which was partially a gag gift to poke fun of how young Tim was, and partially genuine)

• For a long time everyone was under the impression that the teddy bear's name was, in fact, Teddy (as one would guess), but one day little Tim lets it slip that his name is actually "Robin". Something that almost made Dick cry in the moment, and yet a fact that he also uses to tease (big) Tim ruthlessly about.

• Because of his size Robin doesn't typically join Tim's entourage, but Tim will usually run and grab him when he's playing.

• Eventually, Tim starts getting more stuffed animals, including (but not limited to!) A bat from Cass, another teddy (who's name is actually Teddy) and a jellyfish from Steph, a kitten from Babs, and even a lamb from Alfred, to name a few. All following Tim's original naming conventions (Bat, Teddy, Kitty, Jelly, Lamb, etc)

• The only time a stuffie isn't named after it's animal (other than Robin) is when someone else names it for Tim -- something he will typically ask once he receives it*

• He actually has weird rules involving what makes a stuffie (has a soul) and a plushie (glorified pillow) which involves things like:

• Has to be an animal

• Has to be vaugly animal shaped (he's not a fan of squishmallows)

• Usually, no whites in the eyes (only black) but he might make exceptions

• No forced smiles/odd expressions

• He has to feel the soul

• ... it's complicated

• That being said, he does like plushies, but they aren't alive like stuffies are to him

* everytime Tim was given a stuffed animal (big or little), when he was asked "What are you going to name it?"

He would always respond with "I don't know what do you think I should name him/her/them?" (He will have already given them a gender in his head --if they pass the stuffie/plushie test).

“What?” Y/N snips at him, giving him an uneasy and displeased look while he squirms in his seat, unable to get comfortable. Bucky clenches his jaw for a brief second and looks away to keep himself from instantly giving that sass right back to them.

“What’s with the attitude? Something happen on the mission? Something you wanna tell me about?”

“No.” He states without going any further, tugging on his shirt a little as if that would stretch out the binder to something more comfortable.

“No?”

“No. I’m fine. Just go tell Coulson I’m ready to give report already.” His snippy remarks and irritated tone was starting to sound almost whiney. Like a little kid that was arguing because they were tired and overstimulated not because they were actually mad at anything.

That didn't mean it didn't irritate Bucky.

He raises his chin slightly and lowers his eyes as his lips press together slightly, a total ‘watch yourself or you're in trouble’ look that Y/N purposely tried to avoid knowing he'd crumble at the terrifying sight and start crying.

“You wanna try that again?” he asks slowly in his frightening soldier voice, “Or do you really want to double down and see how that works out for you?”

Y/N slid down in the couch cushions, eyes getting teary no matter how much he tried to fight them. He hated when that happened. He was a SHIELD agent for christ-sake; he shouldn't be devolving into tears just because Bucky was going all ‘mom mode’ on him. But at this rate it would be the same as being asked those two painful words, ‘you okay?’ when the person is already having a bad day… which for some reason always leads to a breakdown.

“...no.” He mumbles out, definitely whiny now.

“Why.” It wasn't a question, Bucky was telling him to give an answer. He wasn't going to play guessing games with him when this could all stem from something life threatening that happened on the mission. 

“...feel… yucky… don’t want to..”

Yucky? Wow what a big kid word to use, huh? Truly the best defining word he could find in a thesaurus he's sure.

“Well you are still wearing the same dirt covered clothes you've been wearing the last few days. It might help to change.”

“No–” There goes that word again, Bucky might have to actually ban that word from this conversation. He's lying he wouldn't do that. Afterall no is his favorite word too. “No. Yucky. Feel..ugh.. yucky!”

Repeating yourself without any further explanation isn't actually helpful, kid. Bucky thought, running a hand over his face as he sighs, trying to understand him. Is this what his friends and therapist felt like when he couldn't communicate?

“I don't know what–”

“Yucky! Like…!” Y/N gets more emotional, gesturing vaguely to his body with slightly shaky hands and small tears threatening to dribble out, only getting more frustrated with the fact he couldn't get out the right words that were on the tip of his tongue and Bucky wasn’t reading his mind. 

“Okay! Okay. Yucky. I heard you. You feel yucky.” Bucky holds his hands out in a placating gesture to pretend like he understood so the kid wouldn't break down. Because if there was anything neither one wanted to deal with it was tears. “How about you go take a shower, put on some new clothes, and do whatever gets you feeling cleaned up while I scrounge up some snacks and those big blankets, pillows, and ridiculous stuffed animals you like to cuddle up with?”

While Y/N liked the idea of Bucky getting him food and his comfort items… he also was still hurting and feeling frustrated which means he didn't feel good enough to get up to go through all the steps it took to shower himself then get dressed. In fact the idea of peeling off his binder and seeing the damaged done filled him with dread and the idea of putting another one on after his shower just so he could sit out with Bucky sounded like torture. 

He makes a quiet uneasy noise, looking down at his lap to which Bucky gives a slight exasperated noise. “What? Do I have to do this all myself? C’mere, kid.” He reaches down, not giving Y/N a chance to argue now instead just hoisting him up over his shoulder to carry him to his bathroom.

“Nuh– Bubby! Yucky!” He whines to his trusted kidnapper, his words becoming more babyish and lisped so he wouldn’t say ‘Bucky’ clearly. He kicks his feet a little thinking he’d be forced to shower on his own but the ever perceptive Sargent Barnes had already been piecing enough clues together to make the decision it was time for some after mission regression time and he was going to make things a lot easier on the poor guy by helping him bathe. “Yucky Yucky! Wan coooouch!”

“You need a bath. It'll help take away the ‘yucky’ feelings, bud.” He sets him on his feet in the bathroom then tugs his pants down in one swoop without even unbuttoning them. Y/N makes a surprised squawk and instantly grabs his boxers protectively to keep them from being stolen too. 

“Y– wha– Bubby pantsed me!”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of Bucky's lips, amused by his reaction and trying not to laugh by how offended his shock looked. He lightly taps Y/N knee to signal to him to lift his foot so he can pull off his shoes and pants. “Yeah. I did. You can't take a bath in your clothes. So you gotta strip, kid.”

He gets both shoes off and tosses the pants aside to then reach up towards his boxers which, Y/N gives him a big frustrated pout while still keeping a tight hold on his boxers that way Bucky couldn't take them. They lock eyes for a moment, having a silent conversation to see who would win out on this issue. Bucky breaks first, seeing the insecurity in those glassy eyes, “Not ready for that one yet?”

Y/N shakes his head no and Bucky accepts the answer for now, standing up instead of pushing the issue. Shirt should be easier. He thought as his metal hand reached for the fabric edge but boy was he wrong. The little guy’s hands let go of his boxers quickly to fearfully swat his hand away. His hit isn't gentle either…unfortuntaley skin vs metal isn't exactly an even match and he sucks in a sharp pained breath as he shrinks away to coddle his hand. 

Bucky was a little shocked by his reaction since Y/N didn't usually hit when he got frustrated or regressed but he’d never tried to bathe him before… Maybe he was really insecure about something. Or maybe he had an injury from the mission he was hiding.

Regardless, alarm bells were going off in Bucky’s head and he wasn't going to let that behavior slide. He looks up at him with a disapproving look, waiting a few long seconds for an explanation that Y/N wouldn't offer up. He was too anxious now, seeing the angry look on his caregiver’s face. 

“I’ll give you until the bath is full to give me a reason why you thought that was an appropriate reaction then it's all coming off and you're getting in. Understand?”

He wasn't giving him the choice to make his own options, Bucky was choosing for him since he wanted to hide things from him–not that Bucky understood what or why he was hiding stuff. If he did he would probably be a little more understanding but for right now he was very concerned about what was wrong and it was translating into anger. 

Y/N watched with big eyes as Bucky slowly rose from the floor, holding his gaze the entire time to make a point that yes. Yes he was actually very intimidating. Yes he knew it. And yes. He wasn't above using it as a tactic against a kid. So stay put and don't you try that again.

As he walks towards the tub, he grabs Y/N’s hand away from his chest a bit roughly to check briefly that it wasn't busted open from hitting his metal arm then lets it go so he can work on filling the tub with hot water. Leaving Mr. Can-My-Day-Get-Any-Worse to try convincing his own little brain that Bucky wouldn't care that he bound his chest and it wouldn't actually be that big of a deal if he found out. 

Probably.

What are the chances of a 100 year old man being transphobic and deciding to never hang out or care for him ever again?

Heh… yeah... yeah… right… what are the chances..?

The only thing Y/N was convinced on was that Bucky at minimum will only be really really mad if he finds out he’d been practicing unsafe habits while out on a dangerous mission where minor mishaps could’ve potentially snowballed into lethal outcomes.

…He can't tell him.

He can't do it.

Call him a coward if you must but he can't face Bucky getting any angrier than he is now. Not with how out of whack he was from the full body sickness the ache in his chest was causing. It was like that constant buzz noise from those nasty lights that made you dizzy after being around them too long and gave you migraines the longer you were under them. And Bucky was the scary nurse that came in to poke him with needles with the promise it would somehow make him feel better.

Unfortunately for his panicked mind… he was also feeling so bad that just the movement to hit at Bucky's arm sent a sharp pang through his pec and partially into his armpit which made him feel so disgustingly nauseous that he couldn't physically fight him or run away either without probably passing out. 

Not that he could probably win any fight with a super soldier. Even on a good day.

“Bubby I… I don’t…I won’t–”

Bucky looked back at him after he dipped his fingers in the water to test the temperature, giving him a look that said ‘think through what you're going to say to me right now.’

“Um…” He takes a shaky breath and rubs his hand where a bruise would likely form later, “..too yucky for bath. Won’t do it. No bath.”

“That doesn't even–” he scoffs then shakes his head, his volume rising and getting more terse with each question, “What has got you so secretive and regressed that you won't even take a bath? Which, might I add, will help get rid of that yucky feeling! What happened while we were out there?! What didn't I see!”

Y/N face gets pale as he’s yelled at, fresh tears wetting his eyes as he fidgets in place, tugging at the bottom of his shirt like a little kid and turning his gaze away while he lies with a drawn out exaggerated whine that further tested Bucky, “Nothing..!”

“Don’t you fuckin lie to me right now! You think you're the only one that's tired after everything we did? I’m not in the mood to pry the information out of you or dance around your feelings. If you got hurt you better tell me now or I'll take you upstairs to be officially examined by Bruce whether you like it or not.” 

It was harsh. Maybe a little too harsh… he should know better than to let his anger get the best of him. Especially with the people he cares about the most but… some days it was harder to contain outbursts than others and today… dealing with Y/N own concerning fit he had simply lost his cool. 

Y/N’s mouth hung open for a moment before it screwed up and tears started to slip down his face. Nothing felt safe right now. Things were supposed to feel safe after missions were complete and they were all back in a secure compound. But nothing was safe right now. Everything kept going bad. He felt bad. He was acting so bad that Bucky was angry at him. He just wanted this awful situation to be over. For his bubby to not be mad at him anymore. He didn't mean to make him mad like that. But his own feelings had been too big for him to be diplomatic about it. 

Bucky was still angry with him, focusing on the fact he wasn't answering him so the guilt of making him cry wouldn't hit him yet. “Y/N.” he says sharply to try getting his attention before stepping forward, “Are we doing this? Are you going to let me look this time? Or are you going to throw a tantrum?”

Shoulders shaking from silent cries as he wordlessly and limply drops his hands away from his shirt so they wouldn't be fighting over it. The grumpy man’s hand replace his own on the edge and starts to quickly peel his shirt off his torso. Once the fabric is high enough, Bucky’s expression falls to guilt and he becomes much more gentle about removing the clothing item over Y/N’s head and arms.

The binder was practically cutting into his skin, squeezing it so hard that his lungs alone probably thought they were in a dangerously ill fitting corset designed specifically to keep them from expanding like they were meant to. Bucky could only imagine how bruised his ribs felt let alone looked under there considering he could literally see some purply blue bruised skin peeking out around the edges of the binder.

“Shit… how long have you been wearing this?” Bucky asks, still eyeing his aching abdomen, trying to assess all the damage and deciding if he needed to take him up to Bruce like he threatened earlier.

Meanwhile Y/N was devastated. Bucky might as well have called him a slur with the way he was reacting to that question. Each sob made his chest feel worse and like he was getting less and less oxygen from each gasp but he still tries to get an answer out regardless, “a… uh... Uh…mmn a cuh… couppple… yeaaars…”

“No no no I meant–” Bucky shakes his head and tosses away the shirt that still hung in his hands so he could grab some tissues to awkwardly wipe Y/N crying face with. “Recently. Unless you've been irresponsible enough to wear it for years with no break…”

Y/N shakes his head a little as a sob cuts off his voice, although he was starting to be a little confused over Bucky's reaction. Was he mad that he wears a binder in general or just the idea of wearing it frequently? Why would that change things? Did he think that like… weekends it was cool to be trans but weekdays were where he drew the line? He didn't exactly understand what was going on but he still had the feeling that Bucky wasn't accepting of him.

“Okay well that's… good. What about recently? Have you taken it off at all while we were on duty? I haven’t seen you change for three days.” he pauses for a second at the same time Y/N’s brain finally starts to attempt some optimistic thinking, “Tell me you haven’t been wearing it non-stop for three days??”

“Um..” he hiccups and turns his face away in shame, “w… wh… well– do… um– does Bubby h..h-hate me n...ow?”

Bucky’s face scrunches up in confused bewilderment and shakes his head, “If you wore this without any breaks I’ll think you're a little stupid but I won't hate you for it. Why would you think that?”

“C..ause Bubby’s f…from… um.. mmn… hic… da forties..!”

His face falls into a slight deadpan, mildly annoyed by the reminder even if it wasn't a bad reasoning for why the kid might’ve been so scared. But… he read his SHIELD agent file before they ever started working together. This wasn't the coming out moment Y/N was probably afraid it was. The only new thing Bucky was learning today was the poor kid was irresponsible with his binding. 

He takes a breath and reaches down to hold his shaking hands in his own steady ones as he tries to catch his gaze, “I think the history books may have forgotten to mention how many different walks of life worked for the military during that time. Steve and I knew plenty of queers and we didn't see them any different than any other soldier."

Y/N starts to actually relax at that, his distress turning to slight awe as he listens to Bucky give brief facts about his community’s hidden history. In fact that interest and adoration helps sink him further into a headspace he had already begun to fall into earlier– although now it had finally made its way to the forefront of his mind instead of some vague fog lingering in some of his actions. 

“I don think y’can call people dat word no more… but… um… Bubby… y’tellin da truth?” he asks him in his more childish tone, “y’really know people dat was gay n.. trans n stuff?”

Bucky looks a little guilty but also confused about the fact he may or may not have said a slur by accident–just like Steve he was still working on catching up on certain things… so he will be certainly adding that to his list of words to research later. 

“Yeah. I'm telling the truth, bud.. Actually… that reminds me… you want to hear a funny story about Steve crossdressing for morale?” He shouldn't be telling this story. Really. Rogers would get incredibly embarrassed and then probably get revenge by telling his own embarrassing stories about Bucky. However… it would be worth it to make Y/N feel better after the rocky day they'd had.

And if his face lighting up was anything to go by then Bucky thought this would definitely be worth it.

“Crossdressin or drag? Bubby mean drag?? Captain did drag?!” Bucky snorts out a small laugh at their pure excitement breaking through the tears, their voice was still a bit nasally from the runny nose crying brought but it was still very cute.

He nods his head with a small shrug, letting go of one of his hands to wipe the kid’s nose, “Uh.. yeah I guess you could call it that. I'll tell you the story.. If you let me get this contraption off you to see how bad your owies are. Deal?”

Y/N gives an exaggerated pout, looking down at the binder as he thought. He really hated not wearing it while feeling little because the extra fat and skin there made him feel… extra dysphoric. Like not only did he feel like he wasn't supposed to have it as a man but also that he wasn't supposed to have that kind of… development as a kid. 

But he could admit a little easier to his caretaker now that… it really hurt. And he could smell that Bucky put those really nice bubbles in the tub for him which made him really want to go splash around… 

“..okay… Bubby check… then bubble bath n story.” he relents which Bucky is incredibly relieved this didn't end in another fight. 

“Yeah. then bubble bath and story, kiddo.” He unbuttons the top of the binder to get to the zipper, taking his time as he pulls it down so Y/N’s body underneath would have a more gentle pressure reduction. As much as the patience pays off Y/N is growing more antsy by the minute, hating how much attention his chest was getting and how uncomfortable it felt as everything was released. Because while there was a lot of relief in having the compression no longer biting into his skin, he also has to deal with the feeling of no longer having a nice hug keeping him flat. Worse, he still felt like he wasn't able to breathe deeply, something that was usually fixed when he took off his binder after wearing it.

Bucky helps tug it off his arms then sets it aside on the counter as his face hardens a little at the full uncovered sight. It sparked that earlier concerned anger in him again to see first hand how badly Y/N had taken care of his own body. But instead of blowing up this time he forces himself to try remaining more calm to chastise the kid, since he wasnt… truthfully he wasn't angry at Y/N. No, his therapist would say Bucky was reacting negatively because he was scared… or horrified… or.. something. He kinda thought most of the stuff she said was BS considering he didn't talk much during those sessions, giving her very little to go off of. 

Remaining calm however meant taking his time to think of the right words to say and how to say them… which it takes him a long time to organize his thoughts and come up with the right words. And unlike Y/N earlier, he didn't offer anything up for him to try deciphering while he thought, he simply went quiet, all but glaring at the injuries.

He crosses his arms in thought and Y/N wonders if he’s expecting him or his bruised ribs to give him an explaination–neither of which would have a good answer since shame was creeping back in under his scrutinizing gaze. Bucky’s resting brooding face was just too… intense to not make a kid feel instantly like he was in deep trouble. But in the soldier’s mind being quiet and thinking things over was the best thing he could do to prevent any more explosive arguments. He thought he was being very mature. 

Bucky shakes his head a little as he talks to himself in his head, only finally moving to help Y/N step out of his boxers before leading him to the bath. something he found easier to do now that he was mentally younger and knew Bucky didn't actually care about him being trans. But when he sat down in the water he scooped as many bubbles towards his chest as he could to hide the bruises his Bubby hadn't stopped glaring at. 

“Do… does um.. Bubby hates me now?”

“What? I already told you the answer to that, remember?” Bucky answers in a slightly gruff distracted voice, still working on a whole dissertation in his mind about how to approach this conversation. 

“Y..eah… but dat was before…”

It seems to click in his mind where he messed up again and he pulls himself out of his head to reassure them, “No..! No. I’m sorry. I don't hate you. I swear. I just… I was thinking. Because I.. I’m having a hard time understanding why you wore that for three days in a row. Do you know how dangerous that can be?” 

Hearing the word dangerous in that tone from Bucky made his headspace go on high alert, big innocent eyes looking at him with fear as if he’d just told him that he had only a few days left to live all because he had wanted a flat chest to make himself feel more comfortable. “...What?”

“It’s dangerous, kid. You see all these little lines and bruises it left on your skin?” He pushes some bubbles away so he can run his fingers over the marks to bring his attention to it, then grabs a bath cup to gently pour water over the marks as if trying to wash them off his body. “I’m trying to decide if I have to take you to get a check up because…those aren't the only owies a binder can cause.. It’s also bad for your lungs to be compressed–”

He notices the kid’s confused and still frightened expression and assumes he must have been using too big of words for his current headspace. He changes his voice up to be a little softer and his words to be more fitting for a kid, “er.. squeezed that long. It’s like getting a hug that lasts waaaaaay too long. At first it’s nice, right? But then your body is like ‘oh no! I can’t breathe!’” He does a voice and some silly actions to represent what he’s explaining which makes Y/N giggle for the first time that evening. The sound relaxing both their fears a smidge. “Which… you wouldn’t want those cute little ribs I like to tickle to get bent outta shape right?”

Y/N giggles again, grimacing from the pain it causes and shakes his head before asking, “dat why it hurts t’ take big breaths?”

Bucky winces at that thought, making a note to absolutely take him up to Bruce after his bath because that couldn't mean anything good. “Does it hurt to breathe, kiddo..? Like… every breath or only the deep ones?”

He hums in thought, taking a few different breaths for science’s sake while Bucky starts to pour water over his hair. “Yeah.”

“Yeah what? What does yeah mean?”

“It hurts.”

“F..for which one, dork? That's not an answer! Are you messing with me right now? You do know that I could just let all this water pour all over your face.” He threatens them this time playfully as he scoops up more water, holding it near his head.

“I could splash you!” He threatens back with a big grin.

“Oh you better not or I’ll have to tell Santa about you being naughty and wearing a binder for three whole days. I mean.. look at all the chafing it did, bud! Your poor skin looks sad. You wanna apologize to it? Say sorry skin. I didn’t mean to make you upset? I won’t do it again?”

Y/N seems to think it over, giving little quiet giggles as he eyed the cup of water that threatened to douse his face.. “I won’t do it again… while little, Buggy.”

Bucky couldn't help the grin that split across his face at the audacity that little squirt had to add that little addendum along with calling him Buggy instead of his usual babbled Bubby. He should've been pretending to be a little more stern but they'd had enough seriousness the last couple hours. He was fine with being a little silly and dramatic while getting his point across, “Nooo! At all! You won’t do it again regardless, dork!”

“Won’t do it again..” he giggles out, trailing off just long enough for Bucky to think he was done and praise him.

“Good.” 

Just to be a little menace by adding in.

“—when little”

“Stop that!”

“Buggy tell drag story now?”

“I should just leave you to wonder.”