Being a mob boss wasn’t an easy task. The life of crime and living in danger 24/7 had its ups and downs. Surely wasn’t the ideal lifestyle to carry on. But that’s all that Bucky Barnes knew. Passed down from his father and his father beforehand, Bucky wore the honorary gold ring that symbolized his status and much more. Yet one thing that Bucky learned quickly was that a life in the mafia also meant brief lives and he couldn’t stick with the old ways anymore. Especially with a family of his own.
So he got out of drugs and downsized to trading guns. No big deal. As long as he abided by your rules and never brought harm to you and the kids. He separated that life with the one he made with you.
“Fuckin’ turn green already!” Bucky shouted, throwing his hands in the air as he waited for the traffic light to cooperate. Right when it turned green, Bucky raced down the street of his neighborhood, wanting nothing more but to be home by now.
Not only was it a stressful day but a long ass one too. Dealing with people, driving to different places, even states. If only his men were working as hard as he was, he wouldn’t be in a phase of exhaustion and frustration.
Good thing that Bucky got most of his shit done too for the following week today and it was Friday, meaning the kids were going to stay up until he got there. He mentally prayed that at least the youngest of the 3 would be knocked out before he got home. Becca clung to him like a koala and made sure Bucky never left her sight. It was insane how attached she was to him however it didn’t mean he complained. She was his baby girl after all.
Parking his car in the driveway, Bucky turned off the engine and stepped out of his black 1969 Ford Mustang before dragging his feet across the stone steps. The lights illuminating from the living room catches his peripheral vision, convinced that everyone’s wide awake, including his kids. He could hear their incoherent sounds echoing out from the walls. As he pushed through the front door, Bucky was quickly met with tiny arms wrapping around his legs and his Newfoundland barking like he’s seen the mailman.
“Papa’s home!” The kids squeal all together in excitement, yanking Bucky's’ arms. They didn’t give him time to take his shoes off or anything for the matter because they were already dragging him up to their bedrooms.
“Dad! Dad! I got an A on my science project. The water rocket was flying higher than anyone else's’!” Elliot jumps, showing Bucky his graded sheet. He was the oldest of the bunch and in 5th grade.
“Holy cow, bud. That’s amazing!” Bucky breathes, blinking away the fatigue as he sat down on Elliot’s bed. “Did you show your ma?”
“Yeah! We celebrated with ice cream.” Elliot smiled, putting his papers away. Bucky had come home early one day to help Elliot with his project, making sure to do enough research on the dynamics and techniques that went into it.
Next was 6-year-old Nora who ran into Bucky’s lap, shoving her sketchbook in front Bucky’s eyes. “Look what I made in class papa! My art teacher said I’ve got talent all the way to my tooooes.” She beams, pointing at the flowers she drew using crayons and loads of glitter.
Bucky grins widely as his eyes scan the page. “Oh my god, it’s beautiful pumpkin. How about we hang this up with the rest of your work, yeah?”
Nora nods, hopping off his lap, “Yes! But I think I’m running out of room on the wall, papa.” She says, placing her forefinger on your chin before a lightbulb flashes over her head. “I can use the fridge!”
“But the fridge is for school work only. Arts and crafts go in the spare room.” Bucky reminds, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Shhh, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.” She winks, a smile carving along her face. Bucky amusingly rolls his eyes at her, shaking his head.
“You’re definitely your mother’s daughter.”
Nora giggles, “Mommy said I got my artsy side from her and my stubbornness from you.”
When you enter the room with baby Becca, Bucky turns his attention to you. “Excuse me?” Bucky laughs out in bewilderment, leaning against the headboard.
“What? I had to tell her the truth. It’s not like you disagree.” You state, quirking a brow.
The moment quickly changes as Becca squeals, wiggling in your arms when her bright hazel eyes land on Bucky. She tries reaching for him but begins to whine when it doesn’t do anything.
“Hey hey hey, it’s okaaay. Papa’s here.” Bucky coos, taking her in his arms. A yawn passes by, enough to bring water to his eyes but Bucky fights his sleep, shaking it away.
Elliot and Nora look at each other before Elliot bends down to whisper something in her ear. When he pulls away, Nora rapidly nods her head and runs out the room, disappearing.
You figured they were going to show Bucky more of the things they’ve made or learned in the week so you walk downstairs to clean up the kitchen, wondering if you should warm up dinner for Bucky.
Fifteen minutes pass and Bucky’s head begins to droop down, the soft snore emitting from his lungs spread across the room. Becca pushes back his head, watching it roll side to side. Her high pitched babble causes Bucky to jolt awake, his hold on her tightening.
“Jesus,” Bucky whispers, rubbing his eyes as they burn from the lack of rest. When he looks around and furrows his brows when he doesn’t see Elliot or Nora anywhere. Shrugging his shoulders, he rests Becca to lay beside him and gives her a tangle to occupy herself as he gets cozy on the bed and lures back to sleep.
Seconds later, Nora walks back into the room with her cart of stuffed animals, Elliot following behind. They notice Bucky’s soundly asleep, his face squished against the pillows. Nora fights the giggles from escaping her mouth but Elliot quiets her instead.
“Shhh! Don’t wake him up. He’s really tired.”
She nods her head once and gets to work, placing her stuffed animals around Bucky as Elliot does the same. After they’re done, Elliot takes off Bucky’s shoes and rests them beside the bed before the two run out the room, looking for you.
This time around, they can’t help but giggle when they see you putting the dishes away.
“Mama! Mama! Follow us!” Nora snickers.
“You gotta look at pops, Ma.” Elliot chimes in, both of them dragging you by your hands to Elliot’s room.
“Whoa whoa. C’mon give your dad some space. What did you guys do this time?” You pondered, curiosity getting the best of you as you followed them up the stairs and around the corner. And then you see it.
A 6 foot, 200-pound mob boss, sleeping over a small bed with his legs almost dangling off the end with like 40 stuffed animals all over and around him. Not to mention Rusty (your Newfoundland) draped across him like a fur blanket.
“Ta-da!” Becca says, clapping her hands as she sits dead center of the cute mess. You snort, burying your face in your hands before grabbing your Polaroid camera and snapping a picture of this memorable moment.
Oh yeah, this was totally worth coming home to.