Chapter 1
James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. The name along was enough to set Steve off. He'd get to ranting so long and hard that he'd send people scurrying away to avoid heated complaints of "arrogant, selfish, self-absorbed" and besides that, what idiot allows themselves to be called Bucky. It's a stupid name.
Sure, they'd been friends once. They'd dated when they were eighteen until they were twenty, so maybe you could argue that their relationship failed because they were young. College students who weren't prepared for anything serious. If you asked Steve, however, he'd tell you that that Bucky was a flirt. Argumentative and too caught up in his image of being a badboy and a player to give any attention to his dying relationship with Steve.
Steve loved Bucky.
He had known, from the beginning, what he was getting into. Steve knew he was falling in love with a boy that spent too much time at the local dive bar and avoided commitment like the plague.
Honestly, Steve probably should have been prone of the fact that he'd managed to keep Bucky for two whole years. That was the longest relationship Bucky had ever had, in fact, it still is.
They had a good relationship. Sure, they had there days of fights and petty arguments, maybe even more than most but, what couple doesn't argue a bit? At the end of each day, despite anything else, they were good friends and that meant that they knew how to make one another laugh and cheer the other up after a particularly bad day. Bucky was - perhaps overly - protective and ironically enough, easily jealous.
Fucking hypocrite.
What was probably the worst of it all was that Bucky hadn't even tried to save their relationship. When Steve, in a fit of rage and tears announced that they were "so done, Bucky, we are so done," to the entire east coast, Bucky got defensive. He threw back equally harsh works in equally loud tones, "It's about goddamn time," he'd said, "not like this was ever going to last."
Most people avoid their ex after a particularly nasty breakup.
Not Steve though. Nope, because Bucky and Steve shared friends. In fact, all of Steve's friends were Bucky's friends and neither one of them was about to step back and allow the other to keep their friends.
So now, after almost six years, Bucky was still in Steve's life.
They saw each other everywhere. Steve couldn't seem to get away from him. Birthday parties and barbecues. Weddings and holidays, every social gathering you can think of. There Bucky was, shooting sarcastic, snide remarks or poking n just the right spot to start up yet another - extremely loud - argument.
The up-side was that Steve didn't have to search up Bucky's instagram to know that he was the same cocky, arrogant asshole that he had been when they were together. Bucky still spent most of his time in a bar, still took home meaningless hook-ups from said bar and never got involved in any serious relationships after Steve.
As for Steve, well, he opened his own business. A cafe that took up most of his time for the moment. Steve had always liked art in any form and it turned out he was pretty good at decorating peoples wedding cakes.
Steve had heard through the grapevine that as their shared friends, that Bucky worked as a sports direct for professional games. According to Sam, Bucky wanted to moved to California for a better job.
(Good riddance, Steve doesn't say.)
Steve could live with bumping into Bucky at - every single - party or event. But when Steve's longtime friend, Howard, married Bucky's longtime friend, Maria, Steve had to come to terms with the idea that he was probably always going to have Bucky popping up into his life.
And then, Howard and Maria had a tiny, brown eyed baby with the prettiest dark curls. Steve had loved him instantly.
Steve and Bucky were asked to be godfathers.
Steve had been overjoyed. He'd take any reason to spend as much time as possible with baby Tony, he was a great kid. Then he realized that Bucky was meant to be the other godparent. Which meant, of course, that Steve had to stand with him - civilly - at the christening and act like actual adults.
"You always looked great in blue, Stevie,"
Bucky had smirked, wrinkled his nose in that way he did -that Steve use to find completely endearing - holding on to Tony's little fingers.
"I'm surprised you actually wore a suit today," Steve commented, looking the other man up and down pointedly.
When Bucky did nothing more than huff and give an aborted roll of his eyes, Steve continued, "I thought maybe you'd find a pair of jeans without rips, for the occasion. Hadn't expected you to leave behind that leather jacket of yours, horribly out of fashion, by the way."
"Leather jackets don't go 'out of fashion', but thank you so much for your input, Giorgio Armani."
Sam, glaring from his seat in the chapel, was enough to shut the both of of them up and refocus them on the perfect little baby in Steves arms.
Tony had always been a mediator for them.
Because not thing they still shared, if they shared anything at all, was their love for their godson (and their hatred for each other).
"Thank you, for helping us out today," Maria said, smiling as she walked into the kitchen, two years later. They had just celebrated Tony's second birthday, Steve had helped Maria with the decorations. Bucky had rocked up, too late to help with the preparations, to take Tony from Steve's arms.
"No, Ri, you know I don't mind." Steve insisted, glancing over to the couch where Tony is pulling on Bucky's too-long hair. "I'm glad he's Tony's had a good day,"
"He's good with him, isn't he? It's nice, to see Bucky with him."
Steve sent her a look, trying to convey his meaning without actually speaking it, "Sure," he agrees, "When he's not out drinking like a fish or passed out somewhere, he's an alright godfather." Steve isn't sure what Maria is getting at, but he'll play along.
Maria set the half eaten cake on the kitchen counter. She pulled Steve in by a hand on his waist, "What happened to you two?" she asked. "Trying to get you to complement Buck is like trying to pull teeth,"
Steve huffed, "He's my ex-boyfriend, Maria. If you hadn't decided to have a baby with his friend, then we'd have parted ways ages ago."
Maria opened her mouth to say more but-
Bucky burst into the kitchen, holding a giggling Tony in his arms. He reached out, around Steve, to grab some of the left over snacks and pass them to the toddler. "Not interrupting anything, am I?" Bucky smirked, like he knew he was.
"Never," Maria laughed once she realized Steve wasn't going to answer. She tugged on a piece of Bucky's too-long hair as she walked past them out of the kitchen.
conniving little- "Miss me?" Bucky interrupted Steve mentally cursing Maria for leaving them alone together.
"When would I find the time to miss you, Bucky? You're always around." Steve snarked, "I thought you were on your way to California?"
"Almost sounds like you want me gone-" Just when Steve was about to cut him of, Bucky stoped. Steve looked back to see Sam and Natasha have joined them, both with overly cautious looks on their faces, having only just noticed that Steve and Bucky were alone in the room. (With Tony, of course, but the toddler doesn't count.)
"Should we remove the knives," Sam joked, in the tension soaked room.
"Ah, I actually have to go. Rain check on the knife fight, sorry to burst your bubble there, Sam." Steve stumbled them smiled, took Tony from Bucky's arms just long enough to lift the baby up over his head and press a few kisses to his chubby cheeks. "I'll see you guys later," Steve said, passing the baby off to Natasha as he pushed out of the room. Leaving Bucky to pout over the loss of the baby, at least for the moment.
Steve made the long drive home to his Brooklyn apartment. He fiddled and switched the radio station and settings to distract himself. For some reason, Steve always felt a little bit down after leaving social gatherings. It was probably, Steve thought, because he lived alone in an apartments that was just a bit too big for one person.
It wasn't like he was lonely, not usually. And while he did want a relationship and eventual children, it wasn't something he was longing for.
He stopped off at a supermarket, pushing a cart down the aisles aimlessly. This was another great way to distract himself and pass time.
The store wasn't overly crowded but there wasn't an empty silence either. Steve checked the time on his phone, noting that by the time he purchased his groceries, got home and made and ate dinner, he would be able to fall right into bed and pass out before having to wake up for work in the morning. The mental planning of the rest of his night was cut short by the sound of metal on metal and the shaking of the cart where he held it.
Steve had slammed right into another person's cart. The woman looked up, surprised.
"Shit, sorry!"
Thankfully, she wasn't mad, instead she smiled up at Steve, "I'll take responsibility, as well. It seems I wasn't watching where I was going," She claims in a slight British accent.
oh, "Uh, yeah, me too-either."
She was quiet for a moment, the two standing across from one another in the cereal aisle, just blinking back and forth.
She offered a hand out, "Margret Carter, Peggy."
"Steve," Steve 'gracefully' replied, offering his own name and then his hand across their wrecked carts. If Steve squinted, she almost looked like Bucky. Actually, he'll admit defeat and say that there was no squinting required. Her hair was similar, the same shade but with more curl, though that may be artificial. She had dark eyes but just about everything else down to the slope of her chin would match.
If Steve didn't know that all of Bucky's sisters were blondes (and one redhead) he'd say they could have been related.
Peggy took the lead and Steve wasn't about to turn her down when she offered a coffee date.
Was it even a date? She had just said something about meeting at a coffee shop, so maybe it wasn't.
He is absolutely going to have to go home and call Sam about this.
Despite the great cart crash of aisle 14 and the twenty minute phone call where Sam laughed at him and then hung up on him, Steve's plans for the night stayed pretty much the same.
It was a rather cold night in New York, near the end of May.
So, Steve decided to pull out a little heater he had stored away. He dusted it off, coughing, and tried to pull it from the high shelf.
Of course, in typical Steve Rogers fashion, he ended up tipping over a box which fell to the floor, scattering old pictures from Steves youth across the apartment.
He chuckled at a few of them, as he rounded up all of the photos to return them to their box. There was an alarming amount of pictures of Sam and Natasha, the couple looking perfectly in love long before they were ever a couple. Steve was not jealous and set aside a few of the photos to give back to the couple. They could probably find somewhere in their new, shared home to frame the old memories.
And then, the joyful memories screeched to a halt. Steve picked up a picture he must have been about nineteen in, going off of his floppy hair and the lack of tattoos down the length of Bucky's left arm. Steve was on Bucky's lap, he was trying to squirm away but laughing the whole time. The picture is of Steve, wrapped up in Bucky's arms, Bucky obnoxiously licking up Steve's cheek.
So, yeah, that's why the pictures were hidden in his storage cupboard.
There were so many more, as Steve picked them up off the floor. One of his favorites had been a row of Photo Booth pictures from Bucky's birthday. In a lot of the pictures, they were making out. The last picture in the group is of Steve smiling wide at the camera, Bucky looking right at Steve like he'd hung the moon and the stars.
Steve wanted to look away but he got lost thinking that he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt as happy as he looked right there.
His reminiscing was interrupted by the shrill call of his phone ringing.
He rushed down the hall, trying to make it to his phone before the call cut off. He did make it but only just, not sparing a glance at the caller ID. "Hello?"
"Is this Mr. Steven Rogers?" The voice on the phone wasn't sam calling back to apologize for hanging up on him. It wasn't a voice he recognized at all and that made Steve a little anxious on its own.
"It is, may I ask who this is?"
"I'm calling on behalf of your emergency contacts, Mr. and Mrs. Stark. Your friends have been involved in an accident and I'm sorry to say that they both passed-"
Steve doesn't hear anything else. The rest of the officers words drowned out by the rushing of blood in his head, the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
Howard and Maria were dead.
When Steve gets to the station, Bucky is already there. Steve rushes to him, holding on like he might fall apart, because he thinks he might.
"They're gone," Steve says, shocked. Bucky doesn't or can't reply. Then, Steve thinks, "Tony, where's Tony?"
"Social services have him tonight," Bucky tells him, and Steve slumps into Bucky all over again. "He was with a babysitter, wasn't in the car."
"They're stranger, he'll be confused, upset-"
Bucky just squeezes him tighter, "The officers said that lawyers will be at their house tomorrow, in the morning. They'll have to talk to us, we're their emergency contacts and the closest thing they've got to family."
"We should probably spend the night at their house."
Once they're in the Stark home, though, Steve catches Bucky rubbing at the back of his neck, a sure sign that he's uncomfortable with something. "It feels weird," Bucky explains at Steve's questioning eyebrow. "Being in their house without them."
Steve nods his agreement, "We have to be here for Tony in the morning,"
The pictures on the walls were a constant reminder.
Steve couldn't make himself flip them down and he couldn't make himself sleep.
In the morning, he makes nothing more than coffee, well aware he won't be able to stomach food, doubtful that Bucky will either. He hands Bucky a black coffee, gets a mumbled thanks and then its just waiting for the doorbell to chime.
"Uh," Bucky starts, they're on opposite sides of the same couch, "How are-?"
He's cut off by the bell, Steve at the door first. "Mr. Rogers," The woman at the door greets, "and Mr. Barnes, I assume."
Around the dinner table, Bucky waits as the woman goes over general information and then waits some more until a heavy silence has filled the room. "Where's Tony."
"He was placed in a foster home for the night," the woman explains, "I promise he is in safe hands - as for the future, we do have some legalities to discuss."
Steve straightens in his seat, he and Bucky share a glance and Steve nods for the woman to go on.
"Both Mr. and Mrs. Stark state in their will that, in the event that both of them are unable to care for their son, Tony is to be placed into the care of Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes," She's explaining, "The couple states that it is their wish for their son to be in your care, both of your care. This means that, if you were to accept this, we could book a court date to apply for you two to be Tony's official guardians."
"If we don't - accept?"
"Tony would be put into a foster home until arrangements could be made."
"What if only one of us went for custody," Steve asks , because he can see Bucky shutting down.
"Well, while it is suggested in their wills that their wish is for both of you to have joint custody, if only one of you wanted custody, that would be possible."
"Can we see her now?" Bucky speaks up again, looking for all the world like he wants to run out the front door.
Tony, blissfully unaware, babbles happily at the familiar faces.
Steve reaches forward almost unconsciously, taking the toddler from the social workers hold. "Hey, you," He whispers, sad, into the baby's hair. "I missed you, bud."
Bucky smiled sadly at them both, chewing q bit on his nails until Steve passes the baby over. Tony grabs on to a fistful of Bucky's hair and pulls causing both of his godparents to laugh, small but real laughs.
Steve does the rest of the conversation with the social worker. They have a court date set for the next day to go over paperwork for custody of Tony.
"So, what now?"
"What?" Steve asks back.
"What are we suppose to do?" Bucky says, voice rough and strained, "Pretend that this set up is normal?" he gestures around the house that still feels too big.
"What else are we suppose to do, Bucky?" Steve snaps, then reals himself in. "Breakfast?"
One little piece of normality is that Steve is left to do all the work. While Bucky shows Tony how to build lego sculptures, Steve is left going through all of the paperwork.
Steve watches from where he's spread out the paper work. Listens to Bucky's voice drop low and Tony babbling in response to whatever his godfather is saying.
Eventually Steve decides, "I'm making spaghetti for dinner." He doesn't know how to talk to Bucky anymore, he's noticing. The realization comes with something akin to pained irony, considering only a few years ago the two of them were attached at the hip ( and the everything-else).
No one could make Steve laugh like Bucky, but no one could make Steve cry like Bucky either.
"That sounds," Bucky trails off, thinking, "awfully domestic,"
Steve huffs, "I know you live off beer and take out and probably haven't eaten an actual meal since college but Tony needs actual food." Then snaps, "And you don't have to eat my food-"
"Just wondering if you'd poisoned it."
Steve holds Tony through the funeral.
Bucky, on the other hand has found a corner to hide in, as per usual avoid his responsibilities in the bottom of a whiskey glass, forcing a smile when someone looks his way.
"How are you coping?" Natasha asks, she lets Tony grab one of her fingers in his little hand.
"He's a little cranky but he doesn't understand, still thinks they're coming back, I'm sure."
"I wasn't talking to the baby." She wiggles her fingers for the baby to play with but she's meeting Steve's eyes. "I know it can't be easy, spending this much time with your ex-boyfriend. The ex-boyfriend you were completely in love with-"
"Were is the key word there, Nat."
"Stop down playing your feelings, Steve." She sighs, "I remember what your breakup with James did to you," Steve huffs but she continues, "And I know it will hurt for you to spend this time with him."
"Tony is my priority." Steve says, "Everything I'm doing, from here on out, is to avoid hurting this kid, alright. We're all he's got, so yeah, I'm going to push any lingering resentment I may have for Bucky aside, to protect Tony." he shakes his head, "It's up to Bucky whether or not he can do the same."
The funeral lasts a few hours more but it could've been days or minutes for all Steve processes it. As they're leaving, Sam and Natasha wrap them in tight hugs. Sam tells Steve, "You've got people too," and they promise to be around for anything he and Bucky may need.
Bucky sings the baby to sleep in the nurses and Steve pretends he hadn't stood outside the door to listen to an awful rendition of an old Pink Floyd song.
"So, this is our life now?" Bucky says later, when they're discussing sleeping arrangements in the living room that night. "Living in a house that isn't ours?"
Steve blinks, frowns, "I don't want to take Tony out of his home, he's lost enough and he needs some normality- and what else would we do, Bucky? Are you going to look after him at your place? Because according to Sam it's filled with empty beer bottles and one night stands and prostitutes and-"
"You sound jealous, Stevie." Bucky says, overly sweet until its practically a sneer, "You cold always take him to your place, since you're such a world class citizen. Then again, it's probably so boring he'd be begging to go to mine."
"If you don't want to be here," Steve says, low and much calmer than he feels, "Go." He's started passive aggressively folding some of Tony clothes he had washed earlier in the day, slamming them into the couch cushions, "Go to some bar, go drink all your responsibilities away."
"You never did like having fun."
"No, Bucky" Steve snaps, "Maybe I jus didn't like watching my boyfriend flirt with anyone who glanced in his direction-" Bucky laughed, sarcastic and without humor. He took the basket of clean clothes from under Steve's nose, slamming in onto the coffee table in an attempt to get Steve to look at him.
"Goddamnit, Steve." Bucky growled, "I'm just glad I got out when I did," He stands, patting his pockets for his keys. "I'm going out and not because you told me to!"
"Typical," Steve shakes his head, "Can't even finish an argument, running away like usual." Bucky's still searching for the keys in his empty pockets because, "They're in the fucking bowl!" Steve almost yells, narrowly avoiding it because he knows it would wake Tony.
"I can't do this, Steve." Bucky says, fishing his keys out of the bowl by the door, "I love Tony, I really do. But I can't raise him, I didn't sign up for this. And I know you didn't either. He needs a family, a stable family and you and me? We've never been that."
Bucky doesn't slam the door shut but he might as well have because for all Bucky was careful about being quiet, Steve picks up a nearly empty glass of water an chucks it towards the closed door, just where Bucky's head had been.