"Bucky!"

"What?"

"Did Chris go outside again?"

"Maybe."

Natasha walked to the back door and looked out in the backyard. Seven-year-old Chris was in the middle of the yard, trying to throw her throwing stars hard enough to stick in their wooden privacy fence. Natasha walked over and plucked them out of his hands.

"Chris, Mommy's stars are not toys. We've told you to stay away from them."

Chris pouted, but nodded.

Natasha sighed, "Come on. Dinner's almost ready."

Chris held her hand as she they walked back inside. They sat down at the dinner table and ate chicken and rice. They watched a Disney movie and then sent Chris off to bed. The next day was Saturday, so Natasha and Bucky went to bed late, aware that they didn't have to do anything the next day. Except, the next morning they were woken by the sound of one if their dresser drawers opening.

Bucky sat up, laying a hand on Natasha's arm to let her know it was alright to stay in bed. He saw Chris reaching into one of the drawers to pull out one of Bucky's knives. Bucky slipped out of bed and walked over. He took the knife out of Chris's hand and set it back in the drawer, closing it.

"Chris, you know you need to stay out of this drawer, don't you?" Bucky asked, firmly.

Chris nodded, "Yes, Papa."

"So why are you in the drawer?"

Chris shrugged and looked shamefully at his feet.

Bucky sighed and laid his hands on his son's shoulders, "The knives are not toys. Mommy and Papa use them for work. Don't touch them." Chris nodded. "Now, go get dressed and then we can have breakfast, alright?"

"Alright," Chris agreed, hurrying off.

Natasha sighed, "It's because he sees us using them."

Bucky sat next to her, "Do you want to make a 'no weapons in the house' rule?"

"I think we should teach him how to use them properly. I mean, we're shoulders deep in enemies. They're not going to leave us alone just because we have a son."

Bucky sighed, "Alright. Come on. Let's get dressed."

When they made it out into the kitchen, Chris was already there. Staring intently at a rifle Bucky had left out last night after cleaning it. He knew he couldn't touch it. But looking wasn't touching.

"Chris," Natasha started. Her son's head snapped up to look at her. "Honey, do you want to learn how to properly use Mommy and Papa's weapons?"

Chris's eyes widened and he nodded.

Natasha gave him a lopsided smile, "We can start after breakfast."

Sorry this took so long, guys. I've been going through a period of serious writer's block.