I wrote a little SuperKids fic. It was going to be longer, but then it turned out I was done, so here, have some comment fic.
Good Manners
There was only one thing that Mom was more polite about than Dad. JJ was eight years old, and knew all about manners--more than anyone else his age, except maybe for Winnie--and Dad had a lot of rules--even about things that didn’t even exist any more. When it came to visiting Uncle Bucky, though, Dad thought it was totally okay to just show up and let yourself in. Mom thought people should call before they visit. Dad said that he and Uncle Bucky went back and forth all the time when they were kids, and Mom pointed out that they had been living in the same building, not streets away, and that open door policies weren’t practical any more. Dad said that it didn’t matter if they were streets away, and he didn’t care if Winnie showed up, so why would Bucky care if JJ showed up? And Mom said she didn’t mind that Winnie showed up either, or that Uncle Bucky showed up, but she really would prefer, sometimes, if she had advanced warning.
JJ had decided the right person to ask about it was Uncle Bucky, who had told him, very seriously, that JJ was always welcome at his place, any time of day, and he should never, ever feel he couldn’t come there.
“Don’t stand on ceremony, JJ,” he said. “You never have to ask.”
He’d even given JJ a key.
Which was good, because today JJ needed to go to Uncle Bucky’s, and he didn’t know if Uncle Bucky would even be there, so he was glad he could let himself in.
He swiped some blood from his eye as he stuck the key in the lock, and turned it, pushing the door open and leaving a smudge of blood on the glass. He’d have to clean that before he left. Dad would be upset if he left the place a mess. That was not good manners.
He put his school bag down, yelping as his arm wrenched. His wrist might be sprained. Until about five minutes ago, he’d been too angry to be in pain, but now he wasn’t angry anymore--or not as much--so now every punch and kick and blow he’d got he was feeling, and it didn’t feel good.
He hobbled to the kitchen, so he could wash his face. He had the water running, and he didn’t have his hearing aid in, so he didn’t know Uncle Bucky had come in until his hand was on JJ’s shoulder. JJ jumped and spun around and instinctively punched him in the stomach. Uncle Bucky didn’t even flinch and JJ’s knuckles hurt.
“Oh, kid,” Uncle Bucky said, in sympathy. He was muffled, but JJ could hear him well enough, especially with the lip-reading Sherlock had been teaching him.
“I’m okay,” JJ said, quickly. “It’s not that bad.”
Uncle Bucky turned the water off, and grabbed a cloth from the counter, pressing it to the cut on JJ’s forehead. “It’s that bad, JJ,” he said. “It’s definitely that bad. Where’s Winnie?”
“She takes a different bus when she goes to Joan’s,” JJ said.
“She’s supposed to stick with you,” Uncle Bucky said, frowning. “She knows better than to leave you alone like this. Barnes’ and Rogers’ stick together, she knows that.”
“She wasn’t with me,” JJ said. “It happened after I got off the bus. Don’t be mad at her, she would have helped if she was there. But I didn’t need help. I was fine.”
Uncle Bucky moved JJ to a kitchen chair and made him sit down, pulling back the hood of JJ’s sweatshirt. He’d had his hood up to hide some of the blood, so people wouldn’t stop him on the street and try to help him, and then maybe take him home. He didn’t want to go home yet. Dad would freak out, and try to be Captain America and fix everything.
Uncle Bucky grabbed the First Aid kit, and pulled up a chair facing JJ, opening up the kit on the table and starting with the cut over JJ’s eye. “Tell me what happened,” he said.
“There were three kids bothering a girl on the bus,” JJ explained. “And I told the driver, and she told them to stop, but they didn’t. The girl listens to music all the time. I think she’s autistic and it keeps her calm--do you know what autistic is?”
Sometimes you had to explain normal things to Dad and Uncle Bucky because they’d missed them.
“I’m following you,” Uncle Bucky said, with a nod.
Comment!Fic
There was only one thing that Mom was more polite about than Dad. JJ was eight years old, and knew all about manners--more than anyone else his age, except maybe for Winnie--and Dad had a lot of rules--even about things that didn’t even exist any more. When it came to visiting Uncle Bucky, though, Dad thought it was totally okay to just show up and let yourself in. Mom thought people should call before they visit. Dad said that he and Uncle Bucky went back and forth all the time when they were kids, and Mom pointed out that they had been living in the same building, not streets away, and that open door policies weren’t practical any more. Dad said that it didn’t matter if they were streets away, and he didn’t care if Winnie showed up, so why would Bucky care if JJ showed up? And Mom said she didn’t mind that Winnie showed up either, or that Uncle Bucky showed up, but she really would prefer, sometimes, if she had advanced warning.
JJ had decided the right person to ask about it was Uncle Bucky, who had told him, very seriously, that JJ was always welcome at his place, any time of day, and he should never, ever feel he couldn’t come there.
“Don’t stand on ceremony, JJ,” he said. “You never have to ask.”
He’d even given JJ a key.
Which was good, because today JJ needed to go to Uncle Bucky’s, and he didn’t know if Uncle Bucky would even be there, so he was glad he could let himself in.
He swiped some blood from his eye as he stuck the key in the lock, and turned it, pushing the door open and leaving a smudge of blood on the glass. He’d have to clean that before he left. Dad would be upset if he left the place a mess. That was not good manners.
He put his school bag down, yelping as his arm wrenched. His wrist might be sprained. Until about five minutes ago, he’d been too angry to be in pain, but now he wasn’t angry anymore--or not as much--so now every punch and kick and blow he’d got he was feeling, and it didn’t feel good.
He hobbled to the kitchen, so he could wash his face. He had the water running, and he didn’t have his hearing aid in, so he didn’t know Uncle Bucky had come in until his hand was on JJ’s shoulder. JJ jumped and spun around and instinctively punched him in the stomach. Uncle Bucky didn’t even flinch and JJ’s knuckles hurt.
“Oh, kid,” Uncle Bucky said, in sympathy. He was muffled, but JJ could hear him well enough, especially with the lip-reading Sherlock had been teaching him.
“I’m okay,” JJ said, quickly. “It’s not that bad.”
Uncle Bucky turned the water off, and grabbed a cloth from the counter, pressing it to the cut on JJ’s forehead. “It’s that bad, JJ,” he said. “It’s definitely that bad. Where’s Winnie?”
“She takes a different bus when she goes to Joan’s,” JJ said.
“She’s supposed to stick with you,” Uncle Bucky said, frowning. “She knows better than to leave you alone like this. Barnes’ and Rogers’ stick together, she knows that.”
“She wasn’t with me,” JJ said. “It happened after I got off the bus. Don’t be mad at her, she would have helped if she was there. But I didn’t need help. I was fine.”
Uncle Bucky moved JJ to a kitchen chair and made him sit down, pulling back the hood of JJ’s sweatshirt. He’d had his hood up to hide some of the blood, so people wouldn’t stop him on the street and try to help him, and then maybe take him home. He didn’t want to go home yet. Dad would freak out, and try to be Captain America and fix everything.
Uncle Bucky grabbed the First Aid kit, and pulled up a chair facing JJ, opening up the kit on the table and starting with the cut over JJ’s eye. “Tell me what happened,” he said.
“There were three kids bothering a girl on the bus,” JJ explained. “And I told the driver, and she told them to stop, but they didn’t. The girl listens to music all the time. I think she’s autistic and it keeps her calm--do you know what autistic is?”
Sometimes you had to explain normal things to Dad and Uncle Bucky because they’d missed them.
“I’m following you,” Uncle Bucky said, with a nod.