“So that’s it then, is it?” Bucky asked. He didn’t remember when they both got up from the couch, but Steve stood across from him. All they’d been doing was watching a movie, and then he’d said four simple words. I want to adopt.
He thought they’d been simple.
“Why is it such a bad thing? I’ve told you before, Buck. I don’t want kids. You know why.”
Bucky did know. His childhood. The constant bullying. Being sick more than he was healthy. The idea of bringing a kid into the world and watching them go through the same thing scared Steve. “But I do, Steve. You know that, too. You know I’ve always wanted them.”
Steve sighed, rubbing a hand through his beard. “I don’t want to fight, Buck, but my answer isn’t going to change.”
“Not even for me?” Bucky knew the question wasn’t fair. He saw it hit his boyfriend like a kick, saw Steve stagger back from the weight of it. Hurt crossed his face, and Bucky almost took the question back. Almost.
“I love you, Bucky. I think I’ve loved you since you first reached out your hand to help me up. I want to marry you. I want to start a life with you and grow old with you. But no. I’m sorry.”
Tears burned Bucky’s throat and obscured his vision. He nodded and swallowed thickly. “Okay then.” He turned around so Steve wouldn’t see his tears fall and quickly wiped them away. “I thought I meant more to you than that.”
“Bucky.” Steve’s hand was on his shoulder, and Bucky let himself be turned around. Steve’s eyes were shockingly blue. All Bucky wanted to do was drown in them. He wanted nothing more than to let himself be pulled into Steve’s chest. “You mean everything to me. Everything.”
“Just not enough for this.”
“I don’t want to fight,” Steve said again.
“Then you should go,” Bucky told him. His stomach tightened painfully, and he swallowed hard around the lump in his throat.
“What? No!”
“Yes.” Bucky took a deep breath, a few more tears falling. He wiped them away before Steve could do it for him. “Think about it, Steve. This is something I’ll always want. If we stay together, one of us will need to cave. You deserve to be happy, and if having kids with me won’t—Steve, I want you to be happy.”
“Buck, please,” Steve whispered. “You make me happy.”
“But will I still make you happy when we have this fight over and over? Because I’m not giving this up, Steve. Will I still make you happy when I find an adoption agency that will actually accept a gay dad? Will I still make you happy when I get matched with a mother? When there’s feedings, and diaper changes, and sleepless nights? I want this, Steve. You don’t. It’s as simple as that.”
Steve nodded, tears in his own eyes now. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I know,” Bucky said. “I love you, too. But sometimes that’s not enough.”
“So that’s it, then?”
Bucky closed his eyes and nodded. He didn’t have the courage to look at Steve’s face. “I guess so.”
“I’ll go get my things then.” There was silence and no footsteps. Bucky opened his eyes to find Steve watching him. Waiting for him to tell him otherwise. Bucky just swallowed and nodded.
“Yeah.”
Eyes red, Steve walked out of the living room and into their bedroom. A few minutes later, he returned with the box he’d used to bring them over in the first place. A week ago.
A week ago, Bucky had asked Steve to move in with him. A week ago, they’d been looking at new apartments together. A week ago, Bucky had been planning on asking Steve to marry him. A week ago, they’d been laughing so hard Steve’s milk came out his nose. A week ago, Bucky’s life had been perfect.
Now.
What a week could do.
He watched Steve put on his coat and shoes. He watched Steve turn around, eyes pleading. How Bucky wanted to go over. He wanted to wrap his arms around Steve and never let go. He wanted Steve to tell him it would all be okay—that they would figure something out. But Bucky stayed where he was, right arm stretched across his chest to hold his left elbow, tears on cheeks. Silent.
He watched a tear slip down Steve’s cheek. He watched Steve take his heart and walk out the door, shutting it behind him. And then Bucky went back to the couch, curled up in the blanket that still smelled like Steve, and sobbed.
Years passed as they always did: impossibly fast and excruciatingly slow.
Bucky spent the first months getting home from work and going immediately to bed. Sometimes he cried. Sometimes he stared unseeingly at the wall. He always fought the urge to grab his phone and text Steve. There were more times than he could count that he pulled up Steve’s contact and stared at the photo of them together, the call button waiting to be pushed. He did once and immediately hung up.
He was the one that told Steve to leave.
When a year passed, Natasha made him a profile on a dating app. He matched with someone almost immediately and spent most of the date picking at his food. It wasn’t that the guy wasn’t great. He was, honestly. If things had been different, Bucky would’ve asked for a second date, and maybe a third. Maybe everything would’ve worked out between them. But things weren’t different.
He wasn’t Steve.
They parted ways after dinner and never spoke again.
He told Natasha he wasn’t ready for another relationship yet. Maybe he never would be. She pulled out two beers, and they crashed on the couch to watch shitty reality shows.
He saw Steve out on the streets occasionally. Once, he saw him in Central Park, offering portraits to passerbys. Bucky had almost walked over and sat on his empty chair. He knew he’d always been Steve’s favorite subject. (Sometimes, he wondered if Steve drew him from memory.)
(Steve did. He saw him that day, and in the time it took for someone else to sit in his chair, before he even realized he was doing it, Bucky’s face was on his pad.)
Bucky walked away, hands shoved deep into his pockets and head down.
When Bucky moved into a new apartment, one with more than one bedroom and a kitchen big enough to turn around in, he decided it was time. He set his laptop on the granite countertop, pulled out the barstool, and searched adoption agencies near me.
If this was why he’d walked away from the best thing in his life, he was going to follow through. He spent the entire night researching. By morning, he had pages of notes, and his list narrowed down to three. By the next week, he’d called each one with questions. The week after that, he’d made his choice and worked on his application.
Natasha was over every night she didn’t teach ballet. It wasn’t the same, but he liked not being alone.
Year two, he went on another date. This one ended up with a relationship that lasted three months. It ended when he got a call from the adoption agency telling him his profile had been chosen by a mother, and the man walked out of Bucky’s life without so much as a goodbye.
Bucky didn’t need him anyway. He had Natasha, and occasionally Sam and Riley when they were in town. And soon, he’d be a father.
Twins. A boy and girl.
The thought filled him with so much joy, his toes curled in his socks. In two months, he’d be a dad. Papa, they’d call him. That’s what he’d decided.
“Are you okay?” Natasha asked, twirling her spaghetti around her fork. “I think that’s a smile.”
“Shut up,” he muttered, ducking his head. The smile stayed.
He spent every minute not at work reading baby book after baby book and getting his apartment ready. As always, Natasha helped. Bucky was pretty sure she was as excited to be an aunt as he was to be a dad. They baby-proofed everything to the point that Bucky himself occasionally had trouble opening his cabinets.
They painted the second bedroom a pale yellow, constructed two cribs, found a diaper table Bucky didn’t ardently despise, and purchased so many clothes Bucky could almost believe his future children would never grow and could live in these tiny onesies for the rest of their life. After all, who wouldn’t want to sport yellow and green dinosaurs well into their adulthood? (Bucky had found a pair of socks that matched almost every outfit. He was going to be the most insufferable father.)
It was two in the morning on November 17th when he got the call letting him know the mother had gone into labor. He immediately called Natasha, cutting across her irritated, “this better be something good, Barnes.”
“They’re coming,” he said breathlessly. His heart pounded violently. “I can’t do this alone! Why did I think I could? There’s two of them, for christ’s sake. I’m one person. I don’t—how can I?”
“Take a deep breath, Bucky.” Natasha’s irritation was gone. “Who said you’re alone? Do you think I helped you put their room together and listen to your rants and watch you purchase outfit after outfit for shits and giggles? However you need me, I’m there, okay? Sam and Riley, too.”
“I know.”
“Now go back to sleep. You won’t be getting any for a while.”
“I-thank you, Natasha.”
“Call me when they say you can meet your babies, okay? I’ll go with you.”
“Thank you, Natasha.”
“Mm-hmm.” She hung up.
Bucky was left in the dark of his room, the light of his phone slowly dimming before turning black. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking again that he should’ve gotten it cut short. Too late now.
Despite Natasha’s suggestion, Bucky knew he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. He slipped out of bed and padded into the nursery, turning on the lamp next to the rocking chair. It was one of his favorite things in the room—two dinosaurs hugged the supporting arm. The plush rug was soft beneath his bare feet. In less than a week, his babies would call this room theirs. Bucky would be exhausted, and he’d probably sleep in the chair more than his own bed, and he’d fail at diaper changes, and at some point, he’d probably wish he hadn’t been chosen, but he’d be a dad.
There was a music box on the dresser. Natasha had gotten it when she’d gone to visit her family in Russia last Christmas. Apparently, it had been hers when she’d been a little girl. The khokhloma cathedral stood proud and tall. Bucky ran his fingers over the painted wood before opening the top and letting the lullaby play. Grabbing the stuffed bunny from one of the cribs, he sat in the rocking chair, rubbing a satin ear between his fingers.
The lullaby had repeated twice when he unlocked his phone and let his finger hover over Steve’s contact. He wondered if Steve would even answer. Wondered if Steve had blocked him. He wondered what it would be like to hear Steve’s voice after all these years. The screen dimmed and then went dark.
Bucky didn’t think he’d ever been this exhausted. Not when Steve had gotten the stomach flu and woke them up in the middle of the night, and Bucky had spent the waning hours of darkness stroking his sweaty hair as he laid on the cold bathroom floor. Not when they’d backpacked across Europe the summer after graduating college. Not when he’d stayed up all night studying for his finals because he was sure he was going to fail.
There was nothing worse than finally slipping into dreams only to be wrenched awake by a scream. If Natasha hadn’t been there to give him a break, Bucky was positive he would just crumble to dust. When he was really desperate, Sam and Riley came over with their five-year-old. She loved nothing more than to coo over the twins, their gurgled giggles filling the living room.
Becca was the oldest, born fifteen minutes before her brother, Charlie. Out of the two of them, she was the more civilized. (As civilized as one could be at six months.) Unless she was hungry or needed a diaper change, she rarely cried. Charlie, on the other hand, was uncouth. Sometimes, the only thing Bucky could do was let him scream.
Bucky almost cried when Becca said her first word. He was lying on the floor with them, making her stuffed bunny hop across the floor when she looked at him and said, “papa.” At bathtime, she repeated it while splashing bubbles. He FaceTimed Natasha even though he knew she was teaching and let her take part in the milestone.
As hard as it could be some days, putting them to bed was his favorite part. There was nothing more rewarding than standing at their cribs at the end of a long day, stroking a finger down their nose, and slowly watching their eyes close. Sometimes, they’d jolt open before closing again. It was only when they were both asleep for ten minutes that he’d sink into the rocking chair and close his eyes. Sometimes, he’d wake up in the middle of the night, go stand over their cribs to watch them dream, and then fall face first into his bed. Others, he’d pad into the living room, collapse on the couch, and watch TV until he was ready to pass out.
It was a good life, and Bucky couldn’t be happier.
They were at the park near their apartment a few weeks after the kids’ second birthday. Natasha was making sure the twins didn’t hurt themselves, giving Bucky the chance to relax on one of the benches. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the sunshine that broke through the clouds.
“No, Charlie!” Becca shouted. Charlie just shrieked with glee.
Bucky smiled.
A shadow blocked the sun. “Can I sit?” The voice was quiet.
Bucky’s blood ran cold. He was slow to open his eyes. Steve stood in front of him, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the wind. It was like he was trying to make himself small again, maybe hoping to look like he had when they’d first met. Although nothing was like that bird-boned child Bucky had fallen in love with. His sketchbook was tucked under his arm.
Steve shifted uncomfortably, and Bucky realized he was still waiting for an answer. Without thinking, he moved over, making room on the bench. Steve sat. Their shoulders almost brushed. Warmth radiated from Steve. Since he bulked up the summer before college, he’d always been a personal space heater.
“How—how’ve you been, Buck?”
“I—good.”
“Good.”
Four years. It had been four years since he’d heard Steve’s voice, but the rich baritone still went straight to his heart.
“What about you?” Bucky hated this. The formality. It used to be so simple. At one point, they hadn’t even needed to use words.
“I’ve been good, yeah.”
“Looks like you’re still drawing.”
“Painting mostly these days, actually. But I wanted a break, so I took out the pencils again.” He set the battered sketchbook on his lap, running his thumb up and down the frayed edges. It was a nervous habit that hadn’t changed in all the years Bucky knew him. Bucky wanted to take his hand.
“That’s nice.”
Bucky looked back at the play climber. Charlie was running along the bridge towards the slide. His sister chased him, laughing. Natasha stood by, one hand on her brow to block the sun.
“You still hang out with Natasha then?” Steve asked. His eyebrows were furrowed slightly, and he glanced down at Bucky’s hands. He’d been the one to introduce them back in high school.
“Yeah. She’s been a big help since—” The since you left remained unspoken. He wrung his hands.
“They yours?” Steve tilted his head towards the climber, saving Bucky from his blunder. Becca and Charlie were sitting on the slides, ready to go down.
Bucky couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah. Becs and Char Char. They’re a handful at times, but I wouldn’t ask for anyone else.”
Charlie ran over from the slide. “Papa, cold,” he said. His cheeks were bright red, and his nose streamed.
Bucky leaned down and picked him up. He pulled his son’s hat lower, nearly covering his bright blue eyes. “Yeah? You cold, Char Char?” Rummaging through his pockets, Bucky pulled out a clean tissue. “Blow,” he said. Charlie did, and Bucky put the used kleenex away.
“Cold. Inside please.”
Natasha walked over, Becca’s hand in hers. Her cheeks were also rosy. “Steve? I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I thought you were working.”
“I needed some fresh air. I’ve been stuck at this canvas for over a month and felt like I was going to explode.”
A flare of anger ignited at the easy familiarity between him and Natasha, and Bucky immediately hated himself for it. Just because Steve walked out of his life didn’t mean he walked out of everyone else's. They still hung out on occasion, Bucky knew.
“That’s something. Normally, it’s prying you away that’s the hard part.”
Steve laughed, and Bucky’s heart hurt. He wanted to hear it again. He wanted to be the one to coax it from him. He wanted to take his hand, he wanted to—
But Bucky was the one who told him to leave.
“Papa, cold,” Charlie said again, and Steve laughed.
“Demanding little guy, isn’t he?”
“A little like you, actually,” Bucky said. He didn’t know why. Not when they couldn’t go back to the way it was. Steve smiled, but it looked sad. “Well, I should go.”
“Yeah, of course.”
Bucky stood. Charlie buried his face in his neck. He turned to start walking away, unable to bring himself to say goodbye.
“It was nice seeing you again, Buck.” The words were soft, meant just for him.
Bucky turned around back around. He hesitated. “Do you—would you maybe want to grab a coffee or something?” he asked. The I’ve missed you hung unspoken between them. It was stupid, Bucky knew that, but wasn’t four years long enough?
“Don’t you have to get these guys home?”
“Bucky, I can take them,” Natasha said. She had Becca on her hip now.
“Are you sure?” He didn’t know if this was a good idea anymore.
Natasha shrugged and nodded. “I was planning on staying around anyway. We’ll just put on Dragon Hunt and march around the living room until they want me to read.”
Bucky looked back at Steve, who looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Yeah, sure. Why not? Coffee sounds good,” Steve finally said.
“The place on Grand? They still have the huge muffins you loved.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll meet you there?” Maybe he was hoping Bucky would change his mind.
“Or we could walk together. I just want to help Natasha get them in the car. It shouldn’t take long, if you want to wait.”
If Bucky hadn’t memorized Steve’s face, he would’ve missed the way his eyes brightened. “I can do that.”
Bucky readjusted his grip on his son and followed Natasha to her car.
He fumbled with the straps of Charlie’s car seat. Maybe he wanted to delay the dumb decision he’d just launched headfirst into without thinking. It was Steve who normally did that. Bucky had always been the one to rein him in. But Steve had laughed. Bucky had made him laugh. All he wanted was to do it again and again.
All too soon, the buckles were fastened. Bucky kissed his son’s head. “I love you, Char Char.” He closed the door.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Natasha asked, her arm on the roof of the car. Becca had also been strapped in. “This is a sure-fire way of getting your heart broken again.”
“Do I know what I’m doing? No. But I miss him, Nat.” His voice cracked as he said it, and he cleared his throat.
“Be careful, Bucky.” She closed the door on Becca’s side and walked around to the driver’s seat.
“Thanks, Nat.” He watched her drive away and then headed back to Steve.
They were laughing. Steve’s head was tipped back, and his right hand clasped his left pec the way he often did when he found something particularly funny. He’d almost just knocked his tea over. Bucky snorted, and his hands flew to his mouth. Steve just roared.
It was like nothing had changed. This used to be almost every night.
Eventually, they settled, sitting easily in the booth. It was the same one they’d crammed into with their books and laptops during college. Steve looked down at his mug as if weighing his next question. Bucky could see it sitting on the tip of his tongue.
“Are you and Nat—”
“No! No. Still gay. She just helps with the kids. The twins can be a handful sometimes.” Steve relaxed in his seat. Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Were you jealous?” Steve squirmed, and Bucky almost laughed. Almost. “You were! You totally were.”
“I couldn’t help it,” Steve muttered. Bucky cackled, but Steve’s next question made it die at his lips. “Has there ever been anyone else?”
“Once,” Bucky admitted. “But he left when my profile was picked by a mother. I guess I have a thing for guys who don’t want to be parents.”
Steve looked down, tilting his mug so the cooling tea splashed towards the rim.
“What about you? Has there ever been someone?” Bucky didn’t want to know, but the words tumbled out. Natasha’s warning rang in his ears.
“Once. Peggy Carter—you remember her from school?” Steve looked up and smiled sadly. “But she wasn’t you.”
“Yeah.”
Steve’s hand was in the middle of the table. Bucky kept his own tightly around his mug to keep himself from reaching out. He wanted to, though. He wanted to trace his fingers across Steve’s lifeline and watch the way Steve relaxed into the touch.
“Do you remember that night our senior year of college when you came home early because Sam hooked up with Riley, and we had a bet that he would never have the balls to tell him that he’d been head over heels for him since sophomore year?” Bucky asked.
“Yeah.” Steve smiled, one soft and coy that had the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling. “You were in the kitchen doing dishes, and I came bursting in, yelling at the top of my lungs that you owed me fifty because Sam just kissed Riley in the middle of the quad.”
“You hugged me from behind, and you were all sweaty because you’d just come from the gym and you lifted me up and then told me that you were glad I just told you my feelings because skirting around them was dumb.”
“We danced in the living room,” Steve said.
“And then Sam burst in with hickeys all over his neck and we all got drunk.” Bucky smiled and laughed. “Oh, when I walked into history the next morning, Professor Daniels gave me a long look, and I just burst out laughing. For some reason, it was so funny. I was probably still drunk, come to think of it.”
“Was that why you came home and puked?” Steve asked, his mug up to his mouth to hide his smile.
“I think I recall that you were at the toilet with me.”
“Was I?”
“Hate to break it to you, Stevie, but yeah. Your pretty little head was next to mine. Such a bonding moment.”
Bucky smirked. Steve returned it. For a moment, it was like nothing had changed. Bucky could almost believe that the past four years had been a bad dream, and they were going to go home, make dinner, and go to bed curled around each other. Almost.
His phone buzzed. Bucky took it out to find a photo from Natasha. The twins were curled up on the couch, each with a book. Bucky’s smile softened.
“Your kids?” Steve asked.
“How could you tell?”
“You got the same sappy look on your face as when Charlie was on your lap. You look happy.”
“I am happy.”
“I’m glad for you, Buck. Really, I am.”
“Do you want to come over for dinner?” Bucky didn’t remember planning the sentence, but it came tumbling out head over heels. Clumsily. Like he was smitten and asking for a first date.
Maybe he was.
He didn’t know what he was doing.
“I can’t.” Steve looked genuinely sad to have to decline. “I have a deadline that I need to meet, and I’m nowhere close to finishing.”
“Right, of course. Sorry.” Bucky pressed the crumbs of his muffin into his plate.
“I’m free next Friday, though.”
Bucky looked up. Maybe he imagined it, but there was a hopeful gleam in his eyes. “Next Friday?” Steve nodded. Bucky took out his phone to check his calendar. “Say five?”
Steve smiled. Bucky’s heart flipped. “Sounds perfect.”
Bucky spent the entire next week frazzled. He woke up either too late or way too early. On Wednesday, he was halfway to daycare before he realized he hadn’t changed the twins out of their pajamas. Their teacher laughed when she saw them, tousle-haired and sleep-stained. Bucky smiled sheepishly and handed her their coats.
On Friday, Bucky picked the twins up early. So far, the day had been good. He’d gotten them to school on time, for starters, and then he’d gotten his grocery shopping done, and cleaned the apartment. Or, cleaned as much as one could when they were a single dad with toddlers. He’d done everything he could to ignore how nervous he was for tonight. (Nothing had worked.)
When they saw him at the door, they shrieked with glee and ran over. Bucky knelt down and opened his arms. Charlie all but launched himself into them. Bucky covered his face with kisses. Becca held out her hair tie. Her golden curls were wild.
“Papa, fix please!” she said.
Bucky looked up, grinning. “That’s a new one.”
One of her teachers set their backpacks next to him. “She was practicing it all morning. I fixed her hair about ten times before nap, but I wasn’t Papa, so she kept taking it out.”
“Were you causing mischief, little love?” Bucky asked, pulling her hair back and tying it up.
She just giggled, and then Charlie started. They couldn’t leave each other to their own devices. Bucky grabbed the coats from the top of their bags and helped them zip up. Once their hats and mittens were on, he grabbed the backpacks and slung them over his shoulder.
“Well, my little loves, should we go? Uncle Sammy’s watching you tonight, and I want to instruct you on how best to annoy him.”
“Uncle Sammy sits on the potty,” Charlie said matter of factly.
“Sorry, Bucky—family emergency. Riley and I need to run.”
Bucky rubbed his hand over his face. He sat at the kitchen table. “It’s okay, Sam. I’ll see if Nat can take them.”
“She’s at the studio all night, Bucky. You know that.”
“Fuck.” He dropped his head into his hands and then looked over to the living room. Becca and Charlie played quietly with their stuffed animals. “It’ll be fine. Thanks, Sam. Keep me updated.”
“‘Course. Say hi to Steve for me.”
And the line clicked off.
Bucky sighed, massaging his temple. It would be fine. Really, what could go wrong?
***
Steve arrived at Bucky’s apartment exactly at five with a bottle of their favorite wine and a bouquet of sunflowers. It was a bit much, Steve knew that, but what else was he supposed to do when he was invited to dinner and not told what to bring? He could’ve texted of course, but after teaching himself to not open Bucky’s contact, breaking that strict rule was harder than he imagined. So wine and sunflowers.
He took a deep breath, smoothed his jeans, and rapped his knuckles on the wood. He could hear the heavy pounding of feet and screams of two-year-old laughter. Steve’s heart clenched. He thought they were going to be alone. Maybe that was presumptuous of him. Maybe it was better this way. After all, this was what they’d both wanted. Bucky had his kids. Steve was—alone.
The door opened, and Steve was met by the sight of a panting, sweaty Bucky holding a very naked two-year-old in his arms. Becca giggled madly.
“Come in,” he panted and then dashed away to catch Charlie, who was also naked and running. He was the source of the screaming.
Steve let himself in and shut the door behind him, making sure it was locked. After slipping his shoes off and hanging his coat up, he stood awkwardly in the entryway, taking in Bucky’s home. At the moment, it was a mess. Toys were scattered around the living room along with articles of clothing. The TV was on, though muted, and nursery rhymes played from the speaker. What Steve assumed was part of dinner was left on the counter. Clean dishes were piled in the sink. It was chaos that the Bucky he’d grown up with wouldn’t have stood for. Steve had learned how to be neat from him.
He caught a glimpse of Bucky with both kids under his arms, walking into a room. The door was shut, and the screaming intensified. Steve stayed by the doorway, not knowing what to do. Finally, Bucky reemerged, sweat glistening on his brow. His hair was a mess. The twins were clothed.
“Sorry about that,” Bucky said, walking over to him. He had a grip on both of his kids. “They were going to be at Sam’s tonight, but he had a family emergency, and Nat’s at the studio. And then, five minutes before you showed up, the tantrums started, Becca decided it was time for no clothes, and then Charlie followed. I barely got the diapers off the floor before you knocked.”
He really did look sorry, and Steve softened. “Hey, it’s okay. I still love kids, and I have to say, yours are pretty cute.”
Bucky looked at them. “They are, aren’t they?”
Steve kneeled down. “Hey, bud,” he said, looking at Charlie.
Charlie hid behind Bucky’s legs, and Bucky knelt down, putting his arms around both his children. “Charlie, Becs, this is Stevie—” Bucky closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. “This is Steve. We were kids together, and I invited him over for dinner. Do you want to say hello?”
Charlie turned into Bucky, hiding his face. Becca walked over cautiously, poked Steve in the chest, and then ran back over to Bucky. He looked up at Steve and shrugged in apology. “I guess that’s a no.”
“No worries,” Steve said.
Bucky turned so he faced his kids and looked them in the eye. “Clean up your toys. Now,” he said sternly.
“No,” Charlie said.
“Put them away. Now.” They didn’t move. Bucky held up his hand. “Five. Four. Three...”
At two, they scattered, running into the living room and putting their toys into the basket in the corner. Bucky stood again.
“Are those for me?” he asked, finally noticing the flowers in Steve’s hand.
Steve nodded and held out the bouquet. “I know they’re your favorite, so I picked them up.”
Bucky brought them up to his nose and inhaled deeply. When he lowered them, there was a soft smile on his lips and crinkles around his eyes. Steve’s heart flipped. Even frazzled, Bucky was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“How can I help?” he asked, following Bucky to the kitchen. He set the wine on the counter.
“If you want to grab a pot from the cupboard under the sink and fill it with water, that would be a lifesaver,” he said as he grabbed a vase from a cabinet above the fridge.
So that’s what Steve did.
“Sorry about the mess,” Bucky said a few minutes later. He was cutting up the vegetables that had been abandoned. “It was actually pretty clean up until ten minutes before you showed up.”
“You have toddlers, Bucky. You don’t have to apologize.” Steve leaned against the counter, keeping an eye on the pot on the stove but mostly watching Bucky. There were more lines etched into his face now and he could see the tension that held his shoulders. Steve wished he could massage it away.
“Must’ve surprised you, though. I’ve always been neat.”
Steve laughed. “I’m surprised I didn’t keel over at the sight of things on the floor. You always berated me if I had one thing on the floor, no matter how small.”
Bucky’s head was down as he focused on his task, but Steve saw his cheeks dimple with a smile. He put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from poking at them the way he’d used to. It had always made Bucky laugh.
Soon enough, the water was boiling, and Steve dumped in the box of noodles Bucky handed him. He came to stand next to Steve, scraping his chopped vegetables into a saucepan and letting them soften. Every so often, he’d turn around to check on his kids. Sometimes, he said something to them. Other times, he was quiet. It was nice working side by side again. They still moved in tandem, dancing around each other with a grace born only from time and familiarity.
The last time they were in the kitchen together, Bucky had pulled him into a dance. Steve had stepped on top of his feet, too tired to do anything himself.
Steve drained the noodles while Bucky got the twins into their chairs. He’d just set the pot back on the stove when Bucky returned, reaching above his head to grab a pair of sectioned plastic plates.
“More, more,” Charlie said, touching the tips of his fingers together.
“Hold on, my little love, Papa’s getting it ready.”
Charlie’s face screwed up. “More,” he demanded, touching his fingers together more insistently.
“Patience, Char Char,” he said. “Steve, can you grab the milk from the fridge? The red carton.”
“Can do.” He set it on the counter while Bucky drizzled tomato sauce over the noodles, dished some diced fruit onto the plate, and added a breadstick. When the plates were complete, he poured the milk into a pair of sippy cups and finally went to his hungry kids.
“What do we say?”
“Please!” was the chorus. They rubbed their chests.
“And?”
“Thank you!”
Bucky set their food down and then returned with their milk. Steve dished up their own plates and walked to the table.
“Charlie, use your spoon,” Bucky said sternly when he made to grab his pasta with his little hands. The toddler stopped mid-motion, looked at his father, and then proceeded to do it anyway. Bucky sighed when Becca put her spoon down and copied her brother.
“So, how’s work been?” Steve asked, making it a point to use his fork to pick up his noodles.
“As always, I hate my job,” Bucky replied.
“So why don’t you quit?” This was an argument they'd had most weeks when Bucky came home exhausted from the office, his phone still ringing even though he was off the clock.
“Because being a mechanic and fixing cars doesn’t provide a stable income, Steve. I don’t just have myself to think of now.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I know what you’re saying, Steve. You’ve been saying it since I was hired. I know Pierce sucks, and being his PA sucks, but he’s understanding when my schedule is hectic because of the twins, and the pay is more than I deserve.”
He shoved his breadstick in his mouth in a clear sign that that conversation was over. For a while, there was nothing but the sound of them eating and the occasional reminder to put cups in a safe spot.
“I’m sorry,” Steve finally murmured. “Can we start over?”
The first time Steve had asked that had been their first year of college. They’d had their first real fight as a couple, and Bucky had stormed away. Like tonight, it had been Steve’s fault. He’d pushed too far. When the guilt had sat with him long enough, he’d gone to Bucky’s dorm room, knocked on the door, and asked.
Bucky looked up from his plate. For a moment, it looked like he might cry. “I’d like that.”
Steve reached out his hand. “I’m Steve Rogers.”
Bucky took it. “James Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky.”
They stared at their clasped hands and then at each other. Bucky’s bottom lip was between his teeth. The air thickened the way it did before a storm. Steve twisted his hand so he could thread their fingers together, Bucky’s warm, dry skin sliding against his like a familiar friend.
And then Charlie picked up his plate, put it over his head, and turned it upside down. Bucky took his hand back, rushing to stop Becca before she did the same thing, but he was too slow. Tomato sauce dyed their golden curls. Charlie flipped his plate back over.
“More? More?”
Bucky closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Steve tried not to laugh.
“You can say no, but I need to get these guys in the bath, and usually Natasha’s here to help.” Bucky looked nervous. “Would you want to help? I can do it by myself, but it’ll make things go a lot faster. We can throw a movie on or something once I get them down.”
“Yeah, I’ll help,” Steve said, surprising himself.
“Really?” Bucky’s eyes were wide in that adorable way of his when he was genuinely shocked.
“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Steve didn’t know where these answers were coming from. Maybe it was because they weren’t his kids. Maybe he’d do anything to spend more time with Bucky.
“Do you want to take Becca? She’ll be the easier of the two. Charlie—well, you’ve seen how Charlie can be.” He said it with a fond look at his son.
Steve lifted Becca from her chair, put her on his hip, and followed Bucky to the bathroom. With a firm grip on his son, Bucky knelt down and turned on the tap, running the water over his hand to make sure the temperature was right. Then he added the bubbles. As the tub was filling, he helped Steve with their clothes and diapers.
“I bet this was exactly how you expected to spend your night, right?” Bucky asked later, pushing his hair out of his face with a bubble clad-hand. He was significantly wetter than Steve.
“Well, I can’t say that it wasn’t what I expected.” Steve sat on the lip of the tub, his feet in the warm water, massaging shampoo in the hair of his ex’s daughter. Becca splashed.
“Rub, rub, rub,” she was singing, playing with her rubber duck. Steve found himself smiling as he formed her fine hair into a mohawk.
“No!” Charlie screamed as Bucky went to put the shampoo on his head. He splashed his tiny fists in the water.
“Charlie Joseph Barnes.” It was the sternest Steve had heard him yet. “We don’t have to scream.” He went in again, this time managing to get the shampoo onto his son’s head before being hit with water again.
Steve grabbed the cup on the edge of the tub and filled it with warm water. With one hand on Becca’s forehead to keep the water and soap from getting in her eyes, he dumped it on her head. He repeated the process until all the shampoo was gone. Bucky was still fighting to wash Charlie’s hair.
“Buck,” Steve murmured. “Why don’t you take Becca? Let me try.”
Bucky looked unsure. “I don’t think—”
“If he doesn’t let me, he doesn’t let me, but right now, it doesn’t look like you’re having too much luck. I’m better equipped for this than putting on a diaper anyway. If I get soaked, I’ll just borrow some of your clothes.”
Bucky held Steve’s gaze for a long moment before nodding. He lifted his feet from the tub, grabbed one of the hooded dinosaur towels, and lifted his daughter from the soapy water.
“Yell if you need anything, ‘kay?”
“Got it.”
And then Steve was alone in the bathroom. He scooted over so he was in the center and looked at his adversary. Charlie stared back, looking like he was almost daring him to try.
“You know, you remind me of myself,” Steve said. “Ma told me I was the wildest child she’d ever seen. Oh, I screamed and screamed. She said that’s why my lungs need help now.” He reached out only to grab the rubber duck that Becca had left behind. Charlie watched it with wide eyes as he passed it between his hands.
“Your papa really took on a handful when he decided to stop in that alleyway that day after sixth grade. He had no idea what he was getting himself into when he reached out his hand and helped me to my feet.”
Steve started to wave the duck around as if it were an airplane. Charlie continued watching it. Slowly as he could, Steve stretched out his right hand and put it on the toddler’s head. When there wasn’t a reaction, he started massaging the shampoo into his hair. The bubbles turned red from the sauce. All the while, he kept talking. Eventually, he gave the boy the duck and used both hands.
“But from that moment on, we were best friends. We did everything together. Even when I was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia, he came to visit as soon as he was allowed. He sat on my bed with me, and we built a Lego castle. I stayed up longer than I probably should’ve that day, but we needed to finish.”
Steve took the cup from the lip of the tub and filled it with water. As he did with Becca, he protected Charlie’s eyes and started washing the soap from his hair. “God, I loved him. The day he asked me if he could kiss me—” Steve huffed a sad laugh, his bottom lip between his teeth. He didn’t know why he was thinking about that. They’d both made their decision. “You couldn’t have a better papa, Charlie.”
When his hair was clean, he set the cup to the side, turned to grab the remaining dinosaur towel, and froze. Bucky was standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of regret, ecstatic joy, and excruciating sadness. It cleared as soon as he met Steve’s gaze.
Steve slowly stood from the tub, wrapped Charlie in the towel, and handed him to Bucky. The toddler kept the duck tight in his grip.
“I’ll be in the living room,” he said quietly. Bucky nodded and let Steve pass.
Image: "You couldn’t have a better papa, Charlie.” || Art by: kocuria
Steve intended to do just that. He was planning on sitting on the couch and walking through every decision that brought him to this exact moment, torturing himself by replaying the expression on Bucky’s face over and over again, but the moment he saw the mess on the table, he couldn’t bring himself to. Pulling his socks from his pockets, he put them back on his feet and started gathering the plates.
He was elbow deep in warm, soapy water, scrubbing at the saucepan when Bucky appeared at his side. He picked up the dishtowel. Silently, Steve handed him the rinsed pan.
The silence continued when they moved to the living room. The kitchen lights were off, and the only light in the apartment came from the lamp on the side table. Steve sat on the couch. Bucky rummaged through his collection of movies and then knelt in front of the TV. It was only when the opening credits for Disney’s Robin Hood was on the screen that he joined Steve. They sat on opposite ends.
Despite it being Steve’s favorite movie, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Bucky. The soft glow of the lamp silhouetted him. He’d taken his hair down from its bun, and it curtained around his face, hiding the sharp jawline Steve had spent hours of his life tracing both with his fingers and with his pencils. Bucky lifted a hand and started twirling a lock around his fingers.
Steve had no idea what he was doing here. If he cared about his emotional well-being, he’d excuse himself and leave. It’s what he should do. Several times, he almost did. But he’d dreamed of this moment so many times he almost expected the scene to dissolve and to find himself in his bed, alone.
Bucky chuckled softly. Steve looked away.
He didn’t know when it happened. Bucky had curled up on his side, his right hand stretched out on the empty cushion between them. Steve didn’t remember moving his hand. Maybe he did. Maybe it was Bucky. Maybe it was both of them. Their pinkies touched. And then their ring fingers. And then Bucky’s hand was in his again. Steve closed his eyes.
About halfway through, Bucky sat up. He was closer now. Not close enough for their shoulders to touch, but close enough that if he wanted to, Steve could lean forward and kiss him. He didn’t.
When Bucky cautiously rested his head against Steve’s shoulder, he forced himself not to jump. This was always where the dream dissolved. Steve angled his shoulder down and slowly wrapped his arm around Bucky. When he didn’t protest, Steve pulled him flush to his side.
(What were they doing?)
He rested his cheek against Bucky’s hair. Bucky opened Steve’s hand and trailed his fingers along the lines of his palm.
Steve knew he should leave. He didn’t move.
Prince John had just ordered the execution of Friar Tuck when Bucky lifted his head. Their noses were centimeters apart. Bucky’s warm breath kissed his skin. Steve swallowed. He knew he shouldn’t, but this was all he’d wanted for four years, and how could he ignore the want in Bucky’s eyes when it matched his own? He dipped his head.
Their lips were just about to touch when there was a loud cry from the bedroom. In an instant, Bucky was up. Steve leaned forward, his head in his hands.
When Bucky returned, Steve stood behind the couch. The movie still played.
“I should go,” he said. It was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.” Neither of them moved. Prince John cried in the background. Bucky’s eyes flickered to Steve’s lips and away. “Steve?”
“Yeah?” It tripped over his teeth in its haste.
“I—” He licked his lips. “Thanks for your help tonight. It’s been a long time since Charlie’s acted like that, and. Just, thank you.”
Steve nodded. “Yeah. Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I should-” He pointed towards the door.
“Yeah. Yeah.”
This time, Steve did move. He leaned against the wall as he put on his boots. When he went to grab his jacket, he found Bucky holding it.
“I remember the Christmas I gave this to you,” he said, running his thumbs over the worn leather. “I convinced you I was getting you a Lego set, and you were genuinely upset when it wasn’t that.”
Steve chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Well, we were going to spend the entirety of winter break building the colosseum, and then all I got was the dumb leather jacket I was all but salivating over the first time I saw it at the mall.”
Bucky handed it to him. Their fingers brushed again when Steve took it. His hand was on the door when Bucky called out again.
“Steve?”
He turned around to find Bucky with his right arm stretched over his chest, holding his left elbow. “Yeah?”
“Can I give you a hug?”
It was Steve who moved first. He wrapped his arms around Bucky and held him tight. Bucky pressed his face into the crook of his neck. He still fit perfectly beneath his chin. And then Steve pulled away.
“Goodnight, Bucky.”
“Goodnight, Steve.”
And he left.
Steve spent an hour staring at his phone that night. The screen would start to dim, and he’d tap it to wake it up, and the cycle would repeat. Bucky’s contact stared up at him. After four years of strict avoidance, he broke and clicked ‘new message’. And he typed:
I still love you. He backspaced. I wish I kissed you. He backspaced. I miss you. He backspaced. He put his phone down, curled in a tight ball, and stared at the wall.
***
Bucky was staring up at the ceiling when his phone buzzed. Assuming it was Natasha wanting to know how the evening went, he grabbed it, squinting until his eyes adjusted to the brightness.
STEVIE <3 [12:34 am]: I had a lot of fun tonight. Maybe we could do it again soon?
Bucky’s mouth went dry. He swallowed painfully. Four years. Four years of not speaking and now this. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. What did one even do in situations like these?
They didn’t get into them in the first place. They didn’t invite their ex for coffee, realize they were still achingly in love with them, and then invite them for dinner. They didn’t ask if they wanted to help bathe their kids and then walk into the bathroom to a sight that would lodge itself painfully in their heart. (Bucky wondered if his heart would ever stop bleeding.) They didn’t do the dishes together and watch a movie together. They certainly didn’t beg to be kissed.
He wondered what Natasha would say.
He wondered what would’ve happened if Sam had taken the kids for the night. He wondered if Steve would be in bed next to him, naked and tousle-haired and spent. (Steve had always been the one to fall asleep first after.) Almost reflexively, Bucky stretched a hand out to the cold, empty sheets beside him. Even after four years, he wasn’t used to sleeping alone.
With shaking fingers, Bucky tapped out a reply.
ME [12:45 am]: Me too. Next time, I’ll make sure I have a sitter
STEVIE <3 [12:45 am]: No worries if you can’t
ME [12:46 am]: What are your plans for Christmas?
STEVIE <3 [12:47 am]: You celebrate now? Thought you were Jewish ;p
ME [12:47 am]: Smart ass :)
ME [12:47 am]: Does asking a question about a holiday not part of my religion automatically expell me?
STEVIE <3 [12:50 am]: Guess not
STEVIE <3 [12:50 am]: I don’t have plans yet. Haven’t really done anything in years. I’ll decorate the tree as always, maybe throw on some movies. I’m always swamped with commissions at this time of year, so I’ll probably just paint through most of it.
The thought of Steve alone on Christmas punched a hole in Bucky’s heart. When they’d been together, Christmas music had been on repeat the moment Halloween ended. The tree went up the day after Thanksgiving. It was Steve’s favorite holiday.
ME [12:54 am]: Would you want to come over? I’m having a small thing with Natasha, Sam and Riley. Nothing big. Just lunch and some movies. Conversation. Kinda like we did in college.
Bucky watched the three dots signifying Steve’s reply appear and disappear. Eventually, there was nothing. He wondered if Steve had fallen asleep.
STEVIE <3 [1:20 am]: I’ll think about it
And Bucky supposed that was all he could ask for.
Steve did end up coming over for Christmas. He showed up an hour early with another bouquet of sunflowers and a bottle of wine. This time when Bucky opened the door, the twins were down for their nap. Steve only smiled, but Bucky knew he was thinking, thank god. They fell into an easy rhythm, dancing around each other to finish preparing the apartment.
“You still put up a tree?” Steve asked quietly, running a hand over the branches.
“There was one year I didn’t, but it didn’t feel right,” Bucky murmured. The two of them used to spend hours decorating it. Even though it wasn’t Bucky’s religion, he’d loved how happy Christmas made Steve. If there was a Guinness World Record for a Jewish person with the most Christmas decorations, he’d probably win it.
Steve went to the bathroom, then. When he returned, they didn’t speak until Sam and Natasha arrived.
Bucky spent the entire day trying and failing not to stare. Steve tried and succeeded in keeping his gaze anywhere but on Bucky.
Steve was the first to leave, explaining that he needed to get some work done, but that he had a great time. The hug he gave Bucky was brief, and then he was gone.
For a while, that was it. At first, Bucky checked his phone constantly, thinking he’d missed the vibration of a text message or phone call. He was always wrong. He cursed himself for opening that door again when he knew nothing good would come of it. They’d separated for a reason, and no matter how much Bucky missed him, he wouldn’t change his decision. His kids meant the world to him. Eventually, they settled into a routine again, and those few days with Steve were nothing but a memory.
(Bucky kept dreaming of that moment he’d witnessed in the bathroom, Steve talking to Charlie like he was his own son. Steve talking about his love for Bucky in the past tense. He woke with tears on his face and his hand stretched out.)
And then one day, Bucky was at the grocery store. He was consulting his list when Charlie threw his toy car on the ground and started to scream. It was way past his nap time, but they were running out of food, and it was groceries or cereal for dinner. Bucky, already at his breaking point, closed his eyes, feeling tears burn his throat as they worked their way up to his eyes. It was all he could do to thank the deities that Becca remained calm.
“Looks like you could use a hand.”
Bucky opened his eyes to see Steve standing in front of him. “What gave me away?” he asked, raising a hand to his face and wiping away the few tears that had fallen.
“Just a gut feeling.” Steve crouched down and picked up the blue car. “Hey, bud, did you drop this?”
Charlie just raged. Steve took a step back.
“It’s been a rough day for us,” Bucky mumbled as he fumbled with the straps securing him in the cart. He calmed somewhat when he was out, and Bucky bounced him on his hip, murmuring in his ear.
“I can see that.”
“So, um, how’ve you—”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Steve said, the words coming out in a rush. “I wanted to, really, but... I don’t know. It’s weird, you know, after four years.”
“I know,” Bucky said. Charlie was quieter now, his head in the crook of Bucky’s neck. One of his thumbs was in his mouth.
Steve turned the car over and over in his hands. “Would you maybe want to get coffee again? It doesn’t have to be today, but just sometime?”
“What about dinner tonight?” And what was it with Bucky asking him over? Steve at least had the sense to meet in a neutral place. “I mean, I’ll have the twins because Natasha’s at the studio all night, and it’s Sam and Riley’s anniversary, but I’m making chicken and mashed potatoes.”
“Are the potatoes going to end up in my hair?” Steve asked.
Bucky grinned at the memory from college. He didn’t quite remember what led up to it, but he certainly remembered picking up a handful of potatoes and smearing them into Steve’s hair and the laughter that had followed. Bucky’s, of course. And then Steve’s, when he realized how funny it actually was. “Depends on if you deserve it or not. But I’m proud to say we haven’t had upended plates in quite some time.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“So, what do you say?”
“Yeah. Yeah, why not? Five again?”
“Five,” Bucky agreed.
After that, dinner became a regular occurrence. At least once, if not twice or three times a month, Steve would knock on Bucky’s door. Sometimes he came bearing gifts. Other times, he was empty-handed. Bucky didn’t care either way. It was his presence that mattered. He always helped cook and do the dishes. On rare occasions, he helped Bucky give baths. He never changed a diaper, but he was quick to play with the twins when Bucky needed to step away. Sometimes, Bucky was convinced Steve pretended not to hear Bucky returning to make the moment last longer.
Every night Steve wasn’t there, the twins asked after him.
When they watched movies, Steve sat in the armchair. Bucky sat on the couch. Sometimes, they sat on the floor and played cards. Bucky’s favorite nights were when they just talked. Out of everything, that was what he missed the most—talking to his best friend.
Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much.
He couldn’t remember the last time his heart hurt so much. Each time Steve left for the night, it was like he took a tiny piece of Bucky along with him. Bucky couldn’t blame anyone but himself. He gave it away willingly in the hopes it would make Steve come back. So far, it worked.
Each time Steve left, Natasha asked him if he knew what he was doing. Each time Steve left, Bucky would reply in the negative.
Steve was the first to arrive on the day of the twins’ birthday. Bucky was finishing hanging decorations when he heard the familiar triple knock.
“The door’s open!” he called, and Steve walked in. He had two wrapped boxes beneath his arm.
“I’m not too early, am I?” Steve asked as he slipped off his shoes. “I know the invitation said two, but I was in the area, so I thought I’d see if you needed help.”
“Stevie!” Becca shrieked, having finally seen him. She got up from the floor and ran over, flinging herself into his arms. Steve barely caught her. Not a moment later, Charlie had also run over. He stopped a few feet in front of him, his chin ducked shyly.
“Hi,” he said, twisting his foot.
“Hi, Char Char.” Steve reached out to ruffle his hair.
“Will you play with me?”
“Sorry, Buck. Ignore my offer to help you. I have a date with the birthday boy.”
Bucky just rolled his eyes and went to put the scissors away. When he came back to the living room, he found Steve flying Charlie around. They both laughed. With their golden hair and blue eyes, Steve looked like he could be their biological father.
“My turn, my turn!” Becca yelled.
“No, it’s my turn!” Charlie yelled back.
Steve put Charlie down with the promise of taking turns and picked Becca up. He dipped her, and she giggled madly.
Bucky turned away, steeled his heart, and then continued on.
“I need you to take the twins tonight.”
Bucky leaned against the counter as Natasha put the dry goods in the pantry. She looked back at him. “Bucky, I can’t. I have a date.”
“Please, Natasha. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Please.”
“You’re going to do something stupid that’ll end up breaking your heart, aren’t you?”
In all honesty, Bucky didn’t know yet. All he knew was that it was the anniversary of the day he told Steve to leave, and he’d invited Steve over for dinner. Was that stupid in itself? Yes. Did he care? Apparently not. Steve hadn’t responded yet, but either way, Bucky wanted the night alone.
“If I call you crying, you’ll know. Please?” He stuck out his bottom lip and batted his eyelashes. “Please? Please? Please?”
Natasha’s resolve cracked. “Okay, fine, but you owe me. I was looking forward to tonight.”
“Whatever you want,” Bucky promised. “Now, take my children and leave. I need to get ready.”
Natasha just rolled her eyes and went back to putting the groceries away.
At five, the familiar triple knock came at the door. Bucky opened it immediately, having been ready ever since Steve agreed.
“Wow, um. You look, you look good,” Steve said. He still stood on the threshold. There was a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands.
Bucky looked down at his black jeans and maroon button-down. “Yeah. Um. Are you going to come in, or are you just planning on standing there all night?”
“Oh, yeah.” Steve walked in and closed the door behind him. He stopped at the sight of the set table and lit candles. “Bucky, what is this?”
“I don’t know,” he responded truthfully. “I just wanted to do something for tonight. I can put them away if you want.”
Steve didn’t answer. He just looked around the apartment. “It’s quiet. And clean.”
“The twins are with Nat.” Bucky looked back at the candles. Why did he think it was a good idea to light them? Why did he think anything was going to come from tonight? Why was he playing with his heart like this? (Because it was Steve.)
“It’s weird being here without them,” Steve said. “Is it bad to say I miss them? Charlie promised me I’d get to play with his truck the next time I came over, and I have to say I was really looking forward to it.”
“You should feel special. I bought the thing for him, and it’s always ‘no, Papa. It’s mine!’” He chuckled. “Guess that’s why Becs is my favorite.”
“Thought you weren’t supposed to have a favorite,” Steve said, grinning. And that’s why Bucky did this. That smile. Everything was worth it for that smile.
“Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”
Steve hung his jacket on the hook and followed Bucky to the kitchen. He went immediately to the cupboard above the fridge and grabbed the vase.
“You know you don’t need to bring home flowers every time,” Bucky said as he checked the oven. He realized his mistake when he heard Steve’s steps falter. Home. They pushed on without acknowledging the slip-up.
“I know, but I want to. You cook for me, so it’s the least I can do. Besides, they’re pretty like you.”
Bucky’s heart faltered. He swallowed painfully and took the pan out of the oven to check if the steaks were done. “You really know the way to a man’s heart, don’t you, Rogers?”
“Only yours, Barnes. Only yours.”
Bucky reminded himself that this was what he’d wanted.
“Get the wine out of the fridge, will you? Be useful for a change.”
“So bossy,” Steve muttered.
“Six years, huh?” Steve asked as he handed Bucky a plate to dry. Bucky almost dropped it. “You were right, you know. It would’ve been wrong to keep you from this. You were meant to be a dad, Buck.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, putting the plate away. “I wish things could’ve been different, though. Watching you walk away was the hardest thing I ever did.”
“I kept waiting for you to call me back,” Steve admitted. “I think I waited outside your apartment door for an hour, hoping you would open it up and tell me to come home.”
“I wanted to. God, I wanted to.”
They didn’t say anything else. Steve just washed the dishes, and Bucky put them away.
“Will you sit by me tonight?” Bucky asked as Steve made his way towards the armchair. The movie was already starting.
Steve altered his course, sitting on the opposite end. Bucky reached over and took his hand, tugging him closer.
“Buck.”
“Please?”
That was all it took. Steve moved over, tucking himself into Bucky’s side. “I missed this,” Steve said quietly a little later. “I missed the sound of your heart beneath my ear. Missed the tickle of your hair against my ear. Missed you muttering along with the movie.”
“I do not!”
“You’re doing it now.” Steve laughed. It was more of a puff of breath than anything, but it was still a laugh. “It used to drive me crazy, you know, but as soon as I didn’t have it, I missed it. Movies were weird when it was silent.” He was quiet again. Bucky kept his tongue between his teeth. “Buck, what are we?”
Bucky turned away from the screen to find Steve staring at him. “I don’t know,” he murmured.
“Do you still love me?”
“Steve.”
“Do you still love me?” His eyes were wide and serious, and Bucky saw a tiny flame of hope.
“I never stopped,” Bucky whispered. “I think I’ll love you till the day I die.”
Steve swallowed. Bucky watched the bob of his Adam’s Apple. And then Steve’s lips were on his. Soft and gentle, the way their first kiss had been all those years ago. Bucky’s eyes closed, just like they’d done then. It was over too soon. Steve pulled back just enough for Bucky to see his eyes. Hopeful, but sad, too, like it was both a kiss hello and a kiss goodbye.
Bucky wasn’t going to let it be goodbye. He wasn’t going to let Steve walk away again. Not this easily. Not when he had him back.
He cupped his hand around Steve’s head, pulling him back. Steve sighed into the kiss, sliding a hand of his own into Bucky’s hair. Their lips moved together. All Bucky’s pain, all his sadness, his anger, his loneliness, his feelings of inadequacy as a parent, it all disappeared at Steve’s touch. It wasn’t gone, but it didn’t matter. Not right now. Even if it was just for now, he had Steve. Even if it was just for now, everything was okay.
Bucky angled his head, and Steve deepened the kiss. It was still soft, but it was demanding now, too. The kiss of a desperate man. Bucky received it like it was the only path to survival. Maybe it was. Maybe Steve was his salvation. He wrapped an arm around Steve’s back, turning his body so they could be closer.
Steve pried Bucky’s mouth open with his tongue. Bucky let him. After six years, he would take everything Steve had to give him. He found the hem of Steve’s shirt and pulled it up, desperate to get his hands on the warmth of his skin. Steve broke the kiss just long enough to allow Bucky to pull it over his head.
And then Bucky’s hands were everywhere. His torso, hard from his dedicated time at the gym, his biceps, which he’d missed squishing, his back, where he could still feel the crooked spine despite the spinal fusion Steve had at sixteen. Steve’s breath ratcheted when Bucky’s fingers found the space between his ribs. They’d been fooling around one night when Bucky discovered how sensitive the soft skin was. Time apart meant nothing; their bodies remembered what it was like to be together.
Movie forgotten, Bucky pushed Steve against the back of the couch, climbing on his lap. It didn’t take long for Steve’s nimble fingers to find the buttons of Bucky’s shirt. (Why did he think it was a good idea to wear a button-down? He’d known where tonight was going. At least, he’d hoped.) Soon enough, he’d thrown it to the side and pulled off Bucky’s undershirt.
As much as he’d missed the feeling of Steve’s lips on his, it was Steve’s hands on his skin that was his undoing. He panted into Steve’s mouth. Steve’s lips left his, kissing a trail down his jaw and neck, sucking lightly. Bucky slid his hands back into Steve’s hair and pulled his head up, slotting their lips back together.
“How long does Nat have them?” Steve asked between kisses.
“All night.”
In a move clearly demonstrating the time he spent working out, Steve flipped them so he was the one straddling Bucky. His fingers found Bucky’s belt and quickly worked it off.
“Steve,” he panted. Steve pulled back just enough for Bucky to catch his breath. “Are you sure about this? If you are, I am.” If it broke his heart, so be it. Not like it had ever been whole since Steve had left.
“Yes.” Steve kissed his neck, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin, and then rested his forehead against Bucky’s. “No.” He kissed Bucky’s lips again, long and lingering. “But god, I’ve missed you.”
For a moment they panted, catching their breath. Steve rested his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to his clavicle.
“I love you,” Bucky whispered. “I never stopped loving you, even when I tried. Who am I without you, Rogers.”
Steve lifted his head and cupped Bucky’s cheek in a large palm. In the dim light, he could just make out his soft smile. “You’re an amazing dad and an even better person. I’m a better person for having loved you.”
Again, the past tense.
“Do you still love me?” Bucky asked.
“God, yes. I’ll never love anyone as much as I love you.” He pressed his lips to Bucky’s again, soft and chaste. When he pulled away, he rested their foreheads together, running his fingers through Bucky’s hair.
For a moment, it was like nothing had changed. Of course, everything had.
“Move back in with me, Steve.”
“Bucky.”
“I know being a dad scares you, I know it does, but I don’t want to waste another minute of this life without you by my side. You’re my person, Steve. I’ve always known it.”
“And you’re mine.” Steve breathed a laugh. “Six years later, and we’re at the same crossroads.”
“Yeah.” He kissed him again, pulling Steve closer. “At least tell me you’ll think about it? My kids already adore you. Yesterday, Becs asked me when I was going to get a Riley.”
And this time, Steve’s laugh was loud. “Good thing Sam didn’t hear that. He’s protective.”
Bucky smiled. “You’re good with them, Stevie. I know this scares you, I do, but at least think about it. Please?”
Steve nodded and drew their lips back together. Bucky let him. It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was a start.
“Did you really mean it?” Steve asked. It was two weeks later. He’d been over for dinner more often than not. Each time he left, he kissed Bucky goodbye, and the parting grew harder.
“Mean what?” Bucky was stalling. He knew what Steve was asking. “Charlie, spoon, please.” His son actually listened, and only because Steve turned to look at him.
“That I’m good with them?”
Bucky put his fork down. “I knew it the moment I saw you with Charlie in the bath. You’re gentle and patient and goofy. I know you love them, even though you tried so hard not to.”
Steve ducked his head and continued to eat. Bucky cursed himself for getting his hopes up, and then berated himself. This was Steve’s decision. All Bucky could do this time was leave the door open. It might’ve taken a while, but he was finally calling Steve home.
“Did you mean it when you asked me to move back in?”
“More than I’ve meant anything.” Bucky swallowed, barely daring this to be true.
“Is it okay if I stay the night then? I make a mean breakfast, and—” He looked down shyly. “I’m not saying yes yet, but I’d like to help out with getting the twins ready in the morning.”
Bucky leaned over and kissed him. “Of course, you can stay. Of course.”
Steve smiled and went back to eating.
Becca looked between them. “Papa’s Riley?” she asked.
Bucky felt his lips stretching into a smile, and he reached under the table for Steve’s hand. “Yeah, Becs. Papa’s Riley.”
It took four months for Steve to fully move in. He started one night at a time. But with baby steps came milestones. The first time Steve went with Bucky to drop them off at school, Becca proudly announced to the class that Steve was her papa’s Riley and everyone should be nice to him. When he showed up at pickup, Charlie completely ignored Bucky in lieu of giving Steve a hug. It would’ve stung if he wasn’t so happy.
It wasn’t until Steve was in bed with him again that Bucky realized just how badly he’d slept the last five years. No longer did he wake up in the middle of the night, waiting for something to happen. No longer did he get up before his alarm because he couldn’t stay in bed anymore. Wrapped in the arms of the man he loved, Bucky slept.
Outings became easier. If Charlie started a tantrum, Steve knelt down and talked to him until he calmed. Once, he went to sit with him outside the store until Bucky was done shopping, and he found them on a bench singing songs. Charlie had looked up at Bucky and smiled, raising his arms in clear want of his papa. Steve kissed him after passing over his son and walked the cart to the car, chatting with Becca all the way.
As much as Steve was scared of all of this, he was trying, and Bucky loved him all the more for it. He was the puzzle piece Bucky never thought he’d get back.
Bucky was walking through the apartment, turning off lights and making sure everything was locked when he passed by the twin’s room again. It was the first night in a long time he hadn’t been the one to tuck them in. Not to say that Bucky hadn’t tried, but they’d literally pushed him out of the room and demanded Steve. Steve shrugged sheepishly, his happiness apparent in the crinkles around his eyes. Last time Bucky checked on them, he’d been reading a story, voices and all. The room was quiet now.
Silent as he could, he stepped into the doorway. His heart grew so warm he thought he might catch fire right then. Steve was slumped in Becca’s bed, his arms around both of the twins, who were tucked at his side. All three of them were asleep. Smiling, Bucky padded in and carefully gathered Charlie in his arms. He woke up slightly when Bucky tucked him under the covers.
“Love you, Papa,” he whispered.
“Love you too, Char Char.” Bucky kissed his forehead and swiped a finger down his nose. A moment later, he was asleep again.
Steve stirred when Bucky shook his shoulder, but it took a while for his eyes to flutter open. When he realized what happened, he looked up at Bucky, a coy, sleepy smile crossing his face. “Guess I’m so good at bedtime I put myself to sleep.”
Bucky held out his hand to help him up. “Come on. We got a long day of this tomorrow, too.”
Steve took it and wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist. “Somehow, I’m looking forward to it.”
“Yeah?”
Steve nodded and kissed him. “Yeah.” When he pulled away, he still smiled.