For the Love of the Game

And after all those years of marriage, the warmth that spread across his chest when his name fell from your lips was as present as ever. He hugged Grant tighter at the sound of it, your son a reminder of just how much Bucky Barnes was in love with you, and would be in love with you, even as you pretended to glare at him in the spectator’s box at Dodgers Stadium. 

“Ah, would you look at that, Grant? My best girl showin’ up to my game—gotta love her. Doesn’t she look pretty, buddy?” 

Through a mouthful of chocolate, Grant mumbled, “Mommy always looks pretty.” 

You raised a brow, arms crossed. “You teach him that one?

Bucky slid his son from his lap and plopped him in the overly-cushioned chair looking out at the field. Your hidden smile grew the closer he got to you, his blue and white uniform accentuating the hues of his eyes as it always did. He pulled you closer by your waist, nose brushing yours, lips pressing to your cheeks until you finally granted him with the small laugh he sought out. 

“I didn’t teach him anything. Kid just speaks the truth.” Bucky placed a gentle hand on your barely-there bump, thumb rubbing circles on your stomach. “How’re my girls?” 

You fluttered your gaze up to his, the remnants of a few nerves still causing you to lose your breath at the charming baseball player giving you that famous half-smile. You bit your lip to conceal an even bigger grin than you were already letting on; you were supposed to be mad at him for filling your son up with chocolate before he left to play his game. But you had never been impervious to Bucky’s charm. 

“We’re fine. Almost lost my breakfast when I smelled the popcorn downstairs, but I guess it had to be something. With Grant it was those weird pretzel things. With her—” You rested your hand over Bucky’s. He immediately interlocked your fingers. “—I guess it’s popcorn.” 

With a feigned seriousness, Bucky promised, “I’ll ban all the popcorn in the stadium. Won’t play until they get rid of it.”   

Your facade crumbled as a full laugh escaped you, and Bucky looked as if he won the lottery, shining eyes trained on your joy, hands still caressing you as you shook in his grip. Steve always told him that he still looked at you as if you weren’t his yet—with that devastating longing that was obvious for so long to everyone but you. 

The first time he teased him about it was right after the move to LA. You were unpacking in the kitchen and Steve and Bucky were finally done putting together the very complicated dining room table you found at some antique store back in New York. 

~~

“Alright, pal,” Steve began, a strong hand placed on Bucky’s shoulder. “I know it’s tough to believe, but she’s not goin’ anywhere. You can stop staring at her like she's gonna disappear.” 

Bucky was only half listening, too focused on the confused look you were giving a set of plates that definitely came from his Ma. He’d explain it to you later; your messy hair and the way you were chewing at your bottom lip were too cute to interrupt. 

“Does it ever stop?” Bucky asked. 

Steve chuckled. “Which part? Feeling like you gotta fight everything that ever gets in her way when she doesn't want you to, or the part where you can never seem to form a thought when she’s around?” 

“Any of it. All of it. I mean I’ve been after that girl for what feels like forever and now she just… picks me too?”

You put the plate set down with a furrowed brow and moved on to another box, but Bucky knew you wouldn’t stray far. You’d never been able to live with unanswered questions.

“Well she didn’t exactly make the choice overnight.” Steve glanced over at Bucky with a smirk. “Are we forgetting about the junior year fiasco?” 

Bucky finally tore his eyes from you to give Steve a half-hearted glare. “Yeah, yeah, you punk. Go run home to Nat. I gotta help my girl with those plates or whatever it is she keeps taking out of those boxes.” 

Steve backed out of your doorway with his hands raised in surrender, a smug smile on his face as he called out, “I’m not wrong!” 

But Bucky didn’t offer a retort; as soon as the front door clicked shut he was joining you in the kitchen, hands just itching to be on you as they hadn’t gotten the chance all day. Unfortunately for Bucky, you were pulling another piece of his mother’s old kitchenware from a cardboard box. 

“Buck, is this one from your mom? Everything is so mixed up, we should’ve labeled things better.” 

“Probably, doll—” 

“I think I have to call her because she gave us this mixer and I have to idea how to use it.” 

“You can give her a call tomorrow, but I think—” 

“And Becca also wanted me to facetime her to show her the pool. It’s huge so I think she’s going to freak out. Nat’s might be a little bigger so maybe I’ll show her—”

“Baby,” Bucky hummed, cupping your face in his hands with a gentleness he reserved only for you. “Can I get a sec with my girl?” 

The softness of his gaze had you melting. You loved when he looked at you like that—so full of adoration. It made you feel like you could do anything, make any mistake, and you would always have Bucky to fall back on.

You bit your lip and leaned into his touch. “Am I being crazy?” you asked. And you pulled yourself closer to him without being prompted. 

“Never,” he whispered, but the sound was lost against your lips as he kissed you in the kitchen you two now shared. 

He stepped you back until you were pressed against the counter and kissed you until your lungs burned. The scruff on his cheeks tickled the palms of your hands when he lifted you to sit by the sink; he had better leverage that way—could kiss you more, deeper. 

You crossed your ankles behind his back when he pressed fully against you, his grip on your thighs tightening as his lips trailed down to your neck. You’d never get over the way Bucky kissed you; you’d never comprehend how you’d gone so long without knowing how his lips felt. 

This kiss reminded you of that one in his Brooklyn apartment bathroom, needy lips pressed against each other with untold feelings lost in the air vents as they warmed the chill of fall. Your knees were scraped up and your mind was still fogged over from the events of the night, but you knew you wanted Bucky—that was all you knew in that moment. 

It was all you knew, all the time, ever since. 

“You wanna dance with me?” Bucky asked through panting breaths, forehead against yours after he’d come up for air. 

You giggled and nudged your nose with his. “We’re not going to dance in the kitchen, Bucky, that’s so cliche. What if our neighbors see us being so stereotypical? We’ll be the talk of Los Angeles.”  

“Let ‘em talk,” he hoisted you off the counter and held you close. “Besides, I think you forget our neighbors are our best friends.” 

~~

And maybe Bucky still looked at you as if you were the girl in his chemistry class that refused to talk to him, but the reality of it was, you made him feel the same way you had back then. Your son bounced in his seat a few paces away and your stomach was just starting to show signs of another life made half of him, and Bucky Barnes was more in love with you than he’d ever been. 

“Well, Grant's gonna have to live with auntie Nat and uncle Steve for a while then, because we're not going to be able to put food on the table when you lose your job. Popcorn’s sort of a staple of the American pastime.” 

“I get to live with auntie Nat?” Grant yelled, hopping off his chair and running full-force at you. 

Bucky was quick to scoop him up and swing him into his arms, Grant’s miniature “Barnes” jersey wrinkling with his father’s quickness. “Whoa, buddy! What’d I tell you about mommy right now, huh?” 

Embarrassed, Grant tucked his head into his father’s shoulder. “Mommy’s delicate right now because she has a baby in her tummy. So I have to be very careful with her.” 

You cooed, running a gentle hand across your son’s cheek. It was impossible to miss the similarities between Grant and Bucky; they both had those devastating blue eyes and that floppy brown hair and when they spoke, they charmed everyone within range. And just like his father, you knew Grant was likely to make the same, dumb mistakes that Bucky had when he was in college. 

You assumed Winnie thought much of the same when she was raising Bucky. Barnes’ were all troublemakers, but they were the kind that drew you in and made you ask for trouble.  

“It’s okay, honey,” you comforted. “Just slow down a bit, okay?” 

“You still love me ‘til your heart goes crazy?” he asked, playing with the collar of Bucky’s jersey. 

Bucky scoffed and bounced Grant on his hip until he was a giggling mess. “You kidding me, pal? You make our hearts go insane!”

It was probably the pregnancy hormones, but the sight in front of you had your eyes burning and your heart truly going insane. Grant’s iteration of Bucky’s proposal and subsequent wedding vows never failed to put a smile on your face, the words just a hair incorrect but in the cutest way. 

As Bucky would say—and he’d said it many times—the day he proposed to you was one of the best days of life you two shared. Of course there was the day you told him you were pregnant (both times), the day you gave birth to Grant, your wedding day where he cried and whispered in your ear that he loved you more times than you could count. 

But there was something about that Los Angeles spring air the day he proposed that stood out the most. Maybe it was because you never expected it, the preseason training completely out of the realm of your expectations. 

“James Barnes, you better not propose to me at one of your games. I don’t need 60,000 people watching me cry,” you had always told him. But you still expected it nonetheless. Because Bucky Barnes was never one to miss an opportunity to show off his girl. 

Bucky Barnes was also never one to not listen to his girl. 

~~

Spring in Los Angeles was much drier than spring in New York. Bucky had insisted that you didn’t need to bring a jacket to today’s scrimmage, and while you questioned his incessant need to have his jersey on display across your shoulders, you took his word for it. It hadn’t even rained one drop.

Training in the offseason required many late night scrimmages like this one, and also many early morning weight sessions, mid day video reviews, and countless physical therapy visits. You never missed a single one. You didn’t want to miss a single one; watching Bucky step into this pro position was something so amazing and it made you so proud. Every moment was pivotal. 

“Ready to go, baby?” Bucky called, coming up behind you, chin nestling into the crook of your neck. 

You spun in his grip and placed a kiss on his unexpecting lips. “Finally, Buck! Did you wait for the entire stadium to clear out before coming to find me,” you giggled. 

Bucky ran his hands along your sides and pressed a long kiss to the high-point of your forehead. “So dramatic,” he muttered against your skin. 

“I am not! I’m literally sitting by myself over here. Nat ditched me for some taco truck in the parking lot like ten minutes ago and I’m pretty sure she was lying to me.” 

“My poor baby,” he teased, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and guiding you away from the stands. “Think you’ll be able to handle it if I make you wait just a little longer?” 

You sent a pointed look up at him, but he was too busy avoiding your gaze to catch it. His lip was pulled in between his teeth and if you felt for it, his thumb was tapping an offbeat rhythm into your shoulder. 

Just a few of his nervous ticks. 

Bucky continued to lead you down the stairs of the stadium, but you soon realized that he was guiding you towards the field instead of the parking lot. You reached up to grasp at his fidgeting hand on your shoulder. 

“What are we doing?” you asked, drawing your words out with each step down to the field. 

“Uh, just wait a sec,” Bucky requested, leaving you in the dirt of the infield as he jogged off. 

You let out an exasperated laugh. “You know the last time you pulled something like this I walked away with a sore arm and still no baseball skills. You better not be trying to teach me to pitch again, Barnes.” 

No reply. 

You crossed your arms and glanced around the field as a soft breeze kicked up some of the chalk surrounding home plate. If there was one thing you learned about Bucky since you started dating, it was that the guy loved his surprises. Which was exactly why you told him no game proposals. 

Whatever he was doing right now felt dangerously like one of his big surprises. 

Your assumption was proven correct when the jumbotron switched on, the screen illuminating the field with a video trained on you. Well, on a wall at first; Bucky seemed to be having some trouble getting the camera situated. 

The screen finally perfect and centered, your ridiculous, cheesy boyfriend made his way back down to the field with a sheepish grin. “You like what you see, baby?” 

Your scoff was more of a laugh as you replied, “Why is it on me?”

The brisk air surrounding him tickled at your cheeks when he greeted you once again, his hair blown back from the brief jog. His hands were chilled when they rested behind your neck. “Well, doll, you gave me a bunch of ways that I couldn’t propose to you,” he began. 

Your breath caught in your throat, the playful smile slipping from your face. 

“You said no games, no television interviews, no benefits. And I get it, I really do. A beautiful dame like you would start getting love letters if too many people got a look at ya.” Bucky backed a step away from you. “But I’ve sorta had this dream since I was a kid—lookin’ up at the jumbotron as I got down on one knee and seein’ my last name on my girl’s back.” 

You blinked a few unshed tears from your waterline as Bucky kneeled down, the ring from his pocket a little more than familiar. Winnie’s ring. 

“So maybe I don’t get the screaming crowd or the dancing mascot that twelve year old me wanted, but I’m sure if I knew it was you I was getting instead, I woulda let it slide.” 

You wanted to say literally anything to express the joy building up in your chest, but as Bucky took your hand into his, all utterances were void. There would never be enough words—or even the right words—to explain how Bucky made you feel. 

Apparently a jumbotron barely scratched the surface. 

“Y/n, you make me feel crazy. I swear my heart beats outta my chest every time you walk into a room, and as dumb as that sounds, it’s the truth. I was an idiot when we were eighteen, and my one regret in life is that I wasted that extra time I coulda had with you. I would go back if I could—tell myself about you and spend those years I was acting like an idiot with you instead.

“I coulda kissed you more and listened to you talk for a few extra years. God—I love listening to your voice. And I know if you say yes I’ll get all these future years to listen to you and to hold you when we go to bed, but damn if I don’t wish I coulda had more in the past too. I’m a greedy guy, and you’re the one thing I want more than anything.” Bucky’s gaze flickered up to the screen above your head, his grin growing wider. 

“God, baby, I just—” he choked, eyes glistening. “You know I had this whole speech planned out and now that I’m here on the field, seein’ you wear my name on the big screen, I’m at a loss.” His grip on your hand steadied. “But that’s good old y/n y/l/n, always making me stumble over my words.” 

You laughed as happy tears finally glistened on your cheeks. “Spit it out, James.” 

The smile you shared with him was a private one, even as the gesture was broadcasted on a screen for all 60,000 empty seats. He looked up at you with such finality in his eyes; he knew you were his beginning and his end, that this life ahead of him, no matter which direction it should go, would include you. 

“Marry me, y/n,” he beamed, eyes wet, face bright. “Marry me and let me take care of you for the rest of my life. Let me make up for the time I lost before.” He placed the ring in the palm of your hand. “I just wanna love you forever.” 

His question was unnecessary, a formality presented simply for tradition. “I’ve never wanted anything more, Bucky. Yes.” 

The jumbotron kept you in frame as Bucky sprung up, burying his face in your neck, his tears now pressed to your skin. He picked you up and spun you, his smile so big he couldn’t contain the laugh that shook his chest as you steadied yourself on his shoulders. 

“Finally!” Natasha yelled from the stands, her back prone to Steve’s chest as they took in the scene. “Give it up for the Barnes’! The crowd’s going crazy!” 

Steve humored her, letting out a few feigned cheers as Bucky lowered you back down to the ground with a chuckle. But he didn’t let go of you. He wouldn’t let his touch linger from your skin for the rest of the night. And then some. 

~~

“You alright, baby?” Bucky stressed, dropping one of his hands from Grant to press his palm against your cheek. 

You shook your head with a fond smile. “I’m fine, you two are just so cute. It makes my heart crazy,” you played, tickling Grant’s sides as Bucky watched his little family pressed against him. His free arm wrapped around your back, relishing in the closeness. He kissed your temple when Grant waved you in to tell you a secret, his little eyes taking a peek up at Bucky as you leaned in. 

“Hey!” Bucky protested. “What’s going on here? You won’t even tell your Pa your secrets? Why’s mommy get to know?” 

Grant giggled and pushed Bucky’s face away. “Mommy gets to know because mommy’s the best.” 

You bit your lip and turned up to meet your husband’s slightly offended features. “Sorry, Buck, I’m just the best,” you shrugged, Grant’s sweet, secret laughs getting close to your ear. 

His ‘secret’ wasn’t much of a secret at all; all Grant whispered in your ear was a simple request for you to hold him instead of his dad. You were obviously more than happy to oblige, but Bucky would be the main problem here. 

When you were simply existing, Bucky was overprotective as all get out. He made sure you and Grant had a box seat to stay away from the crowds at his games. He had the house set up with the highest grade security system for when he was traveling for longer periods. He only took you to benefits where the guest list was provided beforehand so that he could scope out any assholes attending. 

But when you were pregnant, Bucky was an entirely different level of overprotective. The kind of overprotective that hesitated to let you hold your own baby because he thought it might hurt you. He had been a little more lax with this pregnancy than he had with the first one, but the caution was still obvious. 

And the memory of your pregnancy with Grant was still fresh in your mind 

~~

“Bucky, it’s literally two feet off the ground,” you argued, the tiny, two rung step ladder pulled up to the wall. 

Your husband sighed over the phone. “I know, but I’m maybe fifteen minutes out, y/n. No reaching your arms above your head and absolutely no step stools.” 

The frame in your hands dropped down beside your thighs as you slumped. The maternity pictures you’d been waiting for for at least a month had finally come in the mail, and you were a little more than excited to hang them in the hallway. You called Bucky as soon as the package arrived, and he just so happened to get off of his plane at the right time. 

Just in time to ruin all your plans. 

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” you grumpily replied. “I’ve been getting by all by myself for the last two weeks, buddy. Pretty sure I can go another fifteen minutes without your mother hen antics.” 

“Oh c’mon, baby, don’t be like that. You know I woulda stayed home if I could have. Trust me, it’s been drivin’ me crazy that you’ve been home all alone. But at nine months pregnant my girl doesn’t need to be climbin’ up a ladder to hang a little picture.” 

“It’s not a ladder!”

“Okay, okay,” he placated, smile evident in his tone. “Just keep your feet on the ground and I’ll hang the pictures the second I get home. Deal?” 

“You’re really bossy.” 

“Deal?” he reiterated. 

You knew he wasn’t going to let this go; the thought of you even one foot off the ground probably had him pressing the gas pedal to the floor of that stupid sports car he insisted he needed. “Fine, deal.” 

“Good. I love you, doll. Be home soon.” 

You were not going to listen to Bucky. He was probably going to have an aneurysm when he got home, but maybe he should have removed all the step stools in the house if he didn’t want you to use them. 

The first picture went up perfectly. It was a sweet one—Bucky looking down at you with his hand on your bump, eyes alight with love and adoration and undying devotion. You were used to the look. The photographer went nuts when she saw it, her camera clicking at the speed of light each time Bucky laid his eyes on you. 

You bypassed a few solo portraits in favor of the one where Bucky held up a tiny Dodger’s onesie. He thought the photographer was silly when she brought it out, but the photo turned out sickeningly adorable, and you were never one to pass up hanging another picture of Bucky in your home. 

He always complained there needed to be more of you, but he wasn’t the one left at home when you had games across the country. That was one of the downsides to this pregnancy; you couldn’t travel with Bucky as much. So instead, you made sure his face was in every room of the house. 

The front door swung open just as you hung the picture on the wall. And at the same time, by pure coincidence—maybe by fate, your water broke. 

“Y/n! What did I tell you, baby? I knew you were gonna do this. I sped all the way home because your head’s as hard as a damn rock.” Bucky set his bags down by the front door and jogged over to you. “C’mon, doll, I’ll help you down and then you can tell me where you want the rest of the pictures.” 

He kissed your hand when he reached for you, intent on lifting you off the stool himself, and it was all you could do to take steady breaths in through your nose. Nothing hurt yet, but the shock of your unexpected labor had sent you into silence. 

“You not talkin’ to me cause I’m bossy? I missed you, baby, give me a break,” Bucky teased, another kiss pressed to head when he had you secure on the ground. Your blank stare was starting to worry him. “You okay?” 

You pressed your hand to your stomach and felt the dampness seep into your leggings. You knew you must be scaring Bucky to death, but you were going to be a mom; the reality of it all was throwing you through a loop. 

“Y/n, hey, look at me, baby,” Bucky stressed. He pulled your gaze up to him, worried eyes darting between yours, frantic hands brushing against your cheeks. “Are you okay? Is it Grant? Tell me what hurts, baby.”  

“My water just broke,” you finally got out. 

Bucky moved not even a second later. He didn’t allow for any shock or panic to leave him incapacitated as you did. Bucky simply raced for the pre-packed bags you both had put together all those months ago, and darted back and forth between the house and the four door sedan he did mountains of research on when you told him you were pregnant. 

He enjoyed his sports cars, but his family was his true pride and joy. 

“C’mon, let’s get you up, doll. I’m gonna take care of ya,” Bucky prompted, careful hands guiding you from the couch. Your first contraction hit as you stood, and Bucky’s hands did all they could to press love into your aching body. “I know, baby, I know. You’re doin’ such a great job. It’ll be better at the hospital, okay? I’ll make sure they got my girl in the best room.” 

The day was mostly a blur filled with Bucky’s constant encouragement and doctors telling you when to push and how to do it and how you were definitely almost done. When you managed to open your eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of Bucky, he looked a bit devastated. 

Seeing you in pain was not something Bucky was used to. Ever since he was able to call you his own, he made it his mission to love you unconditionally, to give you everything you could ever need to be happy and then some. He obviously knew that when you told him you wanted to start a family he couldn’t protect you from this, but god if it still didn’t tear him up to see you in so much pain. 

But then Grant came, and everything made sense. 

“Hey, buddy,” Bucky cooed in amazement, the baby in his arms crying as the hospital lights greeted him. “Hey, Grant. Let’s go see your mommy, yeah?” 

Bucky rounded the bed, your exhausted smile filling his chest with an unfamiliar warmth as he placed Grant in your arms. Bucky thought he’d felt the full extent of emotions he would ever feel with you, he thought there couldn’t possibly be any more happiness left in him. But as he watched you smile down at your son—the son you had with him—Bucky knew there must be an entire other type of happiness that he had yet to even fathom. 

And it was all because of you. 

~~

You leaned into Grant's ear as he giggled against Bucky’s chest. “I think mommy can hold you but you have to be very sneaky about it.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek as you pulled away, and your son let out a muffled sound of delight. 

“Daddy,” Grant began, sweet face tilted up to beam at his dad. Bucky hummed in response. “Daddy, you have to put me down and look over there ‘cause… cause uncle Stevie told me something’s gonna happen over there.” 

Bucky let a fake shock take over his face. “Uncle Stevie said that? Well, he’s the captain, isn’t he?” Grant nodded his head, excited that his plan seemed to be working. Bucky poked a finger into his chubby cheek as he conceded, “Can’t go against the captain, now can I?”

But the second Grant’s feet were on the ground, he launched himself in your arms, completely forgetting about the “sneaky” aspect of his plan. Bucky let out a sound of protest as you swung your son up, but it didn’t do much to deter you. 

“Baby, hey! Grant’s been putting away hot dogs like they’re nothing for the past few weeks—the kid weighs as much as a truck at this point. You shouldn’t be luggin’ him around. Here, give ‘em back to me and I can—”

“Buck,” you interrupted, free arm coming around his waist. “I think I can handle a three year old, yeah? I’m only just beginning my second trimester. Let me hold him before I’m as big as a house.” 

Bucky sighed, ruffling Grant’s hair as he allowed a small, exasperated smile to grace his face. “Fine, but you start givin’ your Ma problems and you’re on the ground, buddy, you got that?” 

Grant saluted. “Sir yes sir. No problems for mommy because we love mommy. And ‘cause we love the baby in her tummy.” 

Sometimes it was hard to believe that there was another baby in there, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t ecstatic for another little one to be running around your house. You and Bucky had been dancing around the idea of a second for a long time, but something about watching your husband tuck your son in all those weeks ago really made you want more. 

~~

“You forgot about mommy?” Grant gasped, blankets tucked up to his chin as Bucky snuggled in beside him. “Why would you do that? Mommy’s so nice and she always helps me do my hair in the morning.” 

Bucky chuckled and brushed some of his son’s chocolate locks back from his forehead. “I was a real bonehead back then. And it took me a long time, but your Ma finally forgave me. She really made me work for it though.” 

“Of course she forgave you, daddy. Mommy tells me how much she loves you all the time, even when we have to keep secrets from you. Like when she takes me on hot chocolate dates and then we buy a bunch of stuff at the store that I can’t tell you ‘bout.” 

“Oh, is that so?” 

Grant gulped, slapping his tiny hand over his mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that! You think mommy’s gonna be mad at me like she was at you?” 

Bucky tugged his son fully into his lap, tossing the long-forgotten book on the side table by his bed. Grant always asked for a story before he went to sleep, but he seemed to favor the real stuff. He always asked about you and how you used to be before he was born. And tonight, he wanted to know how his parents met. 

“No, buddy, I promise she won’t be. You wanna know how I know that?” Grant quickly nodded. “I know that because your mommy is the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. She does your hair every morning like you said, but she also helps me do mine sometimes. And she kisses me every time she wakes up and she never yells at me. Even when I’ve done something super super bad.” 

“Like sharing a secret on accident?” 

Bucky held Grant tighter. “Yeah, Grant, just like that.” 

Grant sighed, sagging against his dad with relief. “I hope I get to marry someone like mommy one day. Just like you did.” 

Bucky felt it again, that warmth in his chest that almost made him vibrate. Everything he’d done in his life, every moment leading up to him sitting in his son’s bed as he talked about the love of his life, he thanked his lucky stars that he’d lived them. The good and the bad and the confusing. He’d take every moment again in stride, relive it all, if it meant it brought him this. 

“I hope you do too, buddy. Your mommy’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You and mommy both. So you gotta make sure you pick a real nice girl and you hold onto her. If you make a mistake you apologize and you try real hard every day to make sure she’s happy. Think you can do that?” 

Grant’s eyes drooped as he sleepily replied, “”Course I can do that, daddy.” But with the quickness that he fell asleep, Bucky was sure he’d have to remind him about it later. 

Tiptoeing out of the room and clicking the door shut, Bucky had to hold in his gasp when he saw you leaning against the wall by Grant’s doorway. You had just finished picking up the bathroom after Grant’s bath, but the smile on your face told Bucky that you’d heard the entire thing. 

“You give some pretty great advice, Bucky. Think you could go back and remind yourself that I’m the sweetest girl you’ve ever met when you were acting like a ‘bonehead’ with those jerks from Sigma Phi?” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

Bucky chuckled, backing you up against the far wall of the hall with his hands around your waist. “Think I made it pretty clear before that I would go back in time in a heartbeat and love you sooner.” 

“I like the way you love me now.” 

Bucky sighed contently, breath cut off by the way he kissed you. He pushed you further into the wall and slotted his lips between yours, desperate to feel you and taste you and remember all the years you’d spent together. When leaning down took too much energy away from kissing you, he hoisted you up by your waist, pressing you close, keeping you together. 

All this time, and none of the passion was lost. You were meant for each other—through time and misunderstandings and children; you moved and grew together and became your own people and it was still him. There was nothing you’d ever want more, and Bucky was sure that holding you in his arms was as essential as breathing. 

“Let’s have another one,” you gasped, Bucky’s mouth trailing down your chest and past your collarbones in delicate brushes.

But he stopped immediately when the words left your lips. “You mean that, baby?” 

“Yes,” you laughed, fingers gripping at his hair. “Yes, Bucky. Put a baby in me. I want another one of you running around.” 

Bucky looked wild as he smiled up at you. Hair in disarray, the collar of his sweater hanging low on his neck, lips red and fully kissed—he glowed with a wild joy. 

“God, I love you. I love you so much.” His words were punctuated by kisses pressed to your skin. “I’ll give you as many babies as you want, doll. I’ll give you anything you want. You just gotta tell me and it’s yours.” 

Your laughs trailed down the expanse of the hallway, filling your home with the jovial sound that it never seemed to lack. 

And when you reached the bedroom, just before the door clicked shut, you whispered against his lips, “Let’s start with just one more.” 

~~

“Grant Barnes I haven’t seen you in days! Get your little butt over here,” Natasha called out, the door to the player’s box swinging open and effectively making all the work you put into holding your son void. 

Steve and Natasha hadn’t had any kids yet, which meant Grant spent a lot of time at their house whenever they felt in need of some kid time. And Grant adored his aunt and uncle, almost as much as they adored him. 

“Auntie Nat!” he laughed, giggles uncontrollable as Natasha tickled him in her arms. “And Uncle Stevie! I get to live with you guys, did you hear?” 

Steve came up behind Natasha and ruffled Grant’s hair fondly. “You do? Well we better get a room ready for you, champ. Make sure you write your folks a nice goodbye letter too, because once we got you, you’re not goin’ back.” 

Grant gasped and quickly protested, turning to Natasha to tell her a very vivid story about why he couldn’t leave his parents forever. Natasha’s eyes went wide as she listened and she nodded her head every few minutes, but it was very likely that she couldn’t understand a single one of Grant’s incoherent ramblings. 

“Hey, man,” Bucky greeted. He kept a hand steady on your back, but reached out to gather Steve in a side hug. “You ready for the game today?” 

Steve—the 6’2 wall of feelings—accepted his friend’s halfhearted hug, but would take none of the sorts from you. He tore you away from Bucky almost instantly, wrapping you up in a hug that lifted you off the ground and continuing his conversation as if you simply belonged there. “Yeah, we should be good, I think. They got Thor in the infield, so it’ll be nice to see him,” Steve replied over your shoulder. “How’s the arm?” 

“It’s feelin’ good today. Ready to chuck a few killers.” 

“Good, good.” Steve finally released you from his grip and held you at arms length, placing a gentle hand on your stomach. “How’s she doin’?” 

You really hoped Natasha and Steve chose to have kids soon; the excited gleam in Steve’s eye every time he saw Grant and even now as he eagerly felt for your baby bump, was almost palpable in the air. 

“She’s doing well! Everything’s on track and she should start kicking any day now.” 

Steve gave your cheek a fond pat before taking a step back to Natasha. “That’s great news. You know you ever need anything and you can call us.” 

Natasha scoffed, bouncing Grant on her hip. “Like they ever listen to that. Mr. and Mrs. madly-in-love over here always get in their own little world and forget that anyone else exists.”

“Hey, we have you guys babysit Grant when we go on dates! That’s help,” you argued with a playful smile. 

“No, no, we beg you to let us have Grant. There’s a difference.”  

You raised your brows at her suggestively. “Well it sounds like someone would like a baby of their own to keep them company.” 

“Alright, okay, aren’t we here for you two to work,” Natasha redirected, pointed looks thrown at Steve and Bucky. “Something tells me you’re already late.” 

You felt Bucky’s hand on your back as he leaned down and placed a kiss on your cheek. “She’s probably right. Take care of two best girls while I’m gone, alright? I think Nat’s got Grant covered.” 

You twisted in his hold and smiled up at him. He has his hat on now and his jersey fully buttoned; he looked very professional in the most adorable way. Just like your Bucky always had. Just like when you first fell for him. 

“I’ll do my best. Pizza for dinner?” 

“You missin’ home, baby?” Bucky smirked. And you could almost smell the inside of that sports bar back in New York—the pizza and the nachos and the beer that Tony always ordered for the table. You could hear the NYU baseball team joking and laughing over the college football game on the big screen and how the owners yelled at Peter even after he showed them his ID. But most of all, you could feel Bucky’s arm over your shoulders in that uncomfortable parlor stool where you fell in love with him. 

“I’m already home.”