Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It’s a week later when Steve’s got Bucky bent over and crowded against Steve’s bedroom wall, ass pushed out so Steve could have easier access. All Bucky asked was, “So, should we get tested and you know… ditch the condoms?” Steve looked like his soul left his body before a downright feral look crossed his face. They couldn’t even make it to the bed.

It’s a Sunday afternoon, which is risky, but Sarah is on a play date and Margie has been out with friends all day. They should have plenty of time to get naked and fuck for a good bit before they have to shower and look presentable for dinner.

Steve presses him against the wall and reacquaints his mouth with Bucky’s ass, which is apparently one of his favorite pastimes because he is so good at it. He’s being extra grabby today, kneading Bucky’s asscheeks in his hands, slapping the fatty flesh there, and growling while he pushes his face in to get his tongue as far into him as he can.

Bucky is a mess above him, biting hard on his hand to keep himself from being as loud as he wants to be. Even with the girls gone, they can never be too careful; Bucky learned that much from burnt lasagna night.

Still, Steve is making it very hard for him to keep quiet, and he’s still a whining mess from being shallowly fucked on Steve’s wet tongue. His legs are shaking and his cock is hard and neglected. The older man sucks a bruising kiss to the little wrinkle of muscle before pulling back and giving his ass cheek another hard slap. He mewls at the bite of the slap, but dips his back more dramatically to offer an enticing curve to Steve.

“Look so good, baby boy. Can’t wait to feel this pussy bare,” Steve growls behind him. Bucky hears the click of the cap of lube and feels like a fuse about to go off, he’s so riled up.

A wet finger rubs over his entrance, tantalizingly slow yet hard. It makes a shiver rake down his spine, that ache deep in him begging to finally be soothed. The finger disappears and suddenly his hole is being slapped with the tips of Steve's fingers, a sting in such a sensitive place. It rips out a cry from his lungs.

“This pussy gets so wet, needs daddy’s cock to fill it doesn’t it, baby boy? Bet you’re dying for daddy’s come in this hole,” Steve murmurs behind him, a litany of filth spilling from his mouth.

Bucky’s nodding along, agreeing with it all, begging for it all. He wants daddy bare, he wants Steve to have him in the most intimate way. He wants Steve to claim his body, and for Bucky to claim him back. It would mean that they’re exclusive, that they could have each other in such a way that no other is allowed to.

Bucky feels dizzy from the thought. He hates to entertain the fantasy, knows somewhere in his heart that if he keeps following down this path he’s on, he’s just going to get hurt. But he loves the idea, is in love with it. In love with Steve. He knows it, he just won’t admit it yet.

But this is one way he could show him; prove his devotion to Steve and offer up his body in whatever way daddy wants.

Three fingers are pushed into him right away, unrelenting and mean. But Bucky just pushes back onto them, moans low and quiet at the burn of the stretch, and asks daddy for more. He wants Steve in him as soon as he can get him, even if it means he’ll be more sore for it later. It’s okay; daddy always takes care of him.

Steve is still muttering a long list of dirty things he wants to do to Bucky’s bare hole, but eventually Steve does rip open the condom and slide it on before working that cock into him. Bucky’s forehead thumps against the wall between his two hands that are uselessly pressed there. With one long thrust, Steve is finally all of the way in.

And just as he pulls out almost all of the way, leaving just the tip of his dick kissing Bucky’s hole that is trying to suck him back in, they hear the front door close.

They both freeze. They locked the bedroom door, just to be safe. It must be Margie, and she’s smart enough to figure out what they’re doing. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut in frustration, missing the feeling of Steve’s cock grinding into him deep and dirty even though he’s technically still right there. He knows Steve’s going to end this, maybe promise to pick it back up later, but—

Steve fucks into him in a single hard and fast motion, burying himself to the hilt. Bucky yelps a surprised moan, and Steve leans over his back to whisper in his ear while holding his hips tightly, “Shh, baby boy. Don’t want anyone to find us, do you?”

Oh god.

The air in Bucky’s lungs burn as he holds his breath. Steve pulls out slowly, and then grinds that cock back into him nice and hard. He's still getting accustomed to the width and the length of him, so he feels every centimeter of the dick inside of him. His knees really are trembling now, and he’d be worried that his legs would give out under him if Steve didn’t have a bruising grip on his hips.

“There we go, baby boy,” Steve whispers sweetly behind his ear. “You just suck daddy’s cock right into that pussy, don’t you? What a greedy little hole, doesn’t want to let go of me.”

Steve’s voice is a deep octave, but it’s quiet. His skin breaks out in goosebumps from feeling his hot breath at his neck and ear. Meanwhile, Steve is still fucking him casually; slow but hard, making him feel it. He clenches around the cock in him, unable to help it. It makes Steve feel even bigger, and the older man chuckles behind him.

“Like that, don’t you? Daddy’s cock feel good so deep inside you? Know this hole is hungry, needs daddy to feed it. Can’t wait until I can feed it my come.”

He’s trying not to make noise, but holding his breath makes his breathing even louder. Little hums and quiet moans keep clawing their way out of his throat, and he’s so terrified of Margie overhearing them while at the same time not caring and just wanting to be fucked.

“Daddy,” he whispers, hopefully quietly. “Daddy, please,” he begs. Steve shushes him and pulls a hand from his hip to reach around and grip his cock. Bucky has to gulp, swallowing the noises that are threatening to spill out of his mouth. His eyes are rolling back uncontrollably, body strung tightly between how full he is and his achy cock that’s finally getting some attention.

A creak in the floorboards outside the bedroom door makes them both pause, Bucky still split open around the whole length of him while Steve’s hand grips him tightly from the front. They hold their breaths, looking at the door just a few feet away, Bucky’s heart hammering in his ear. God, he just wants to come, but the fear of being overheard is a terrible one. He’s split between wanting to stop and needing to finish, an awful feeling that makes his blood buzz under his skin in anticipation.

Steve slowly starts to pull out and fuck back in, and Bucky has never had to focus on exerting so much control over himself during sex before. His arms tremble where they are, legs on the verge of giving out, and they are way too close to getting caught but Bucky does not care, he cannot care, he needs to come.

Thankfully, there is another creak that sounds like she’s moving away from the door and Steve turns wild, still whispering quietly but really fucking him, making slick slapping noises as he thrusts in over and over and over.

“Wish I could draw this out all day,” Steve murmurs to him. “Wish I could make it last and last. Make you cry you want to come so bad but I don’t let you. Keep this pussy split open on daddy’s cock all day. Fuck, so tight baby boy, so good for daddy.”

“Daddy,” Bucky whines, pushing his ass back to meet Steve’s still grinding hips. It feels so good, god he wants to live in this moment forever, wants to always feel this good and wanted. He wants to live here, in Steve’s bedroom, ready and willing for Steve to take whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. He loves Steve, he knows he loves Steve, and he can freely love Steve in this moment while Steve is fucking him to the greatest heights he’s ever reached.

But all good moments end.

“Let that pussy come on daddy’s cock, baby, lemme feel you come,” Steve orders.

Steve starts fisting his cock hard and before he knows it, he’s hurling right over the edge. He feels like he’s free-falling, he’s coming so hard, spurting his release all over the wall while spasming around Steve’s cock that’s buried so deep inside of him. He’s a whining mess, unable to keep himself quiet, and Steve is groaning into his neck while he tips over.

When it’s over, they’re breathing heavily in the quiet of the bedroom. There are no other sounds from what Bucky can hear. Steve kisses his neck and shoulders, pressing words so quietly spoken he’s not entirely sure what Steve is saying, especially when his brain feels like it’s been overcooked. Eventually, Steve pulls out and without warning, scoops Bucky up into his arms so that he’s carrying him like a baby.

Bucky wants to complain, wants to protest that he’s too heavy, but Steve is strong and his head is pillowed on his shoulder and he can’t deny how much he likes it. He’s carried to the master bathroom where Steve starts a hot bath. Soon, they’re both lying in hot water and bubbles, tucked away behind a locked door where they won’t be disturbed.

Steve washes his hair, using his own shampoo and conditioner. He comments how much he likes Bucky’s hair long, smoothing his fingers through the silky wet locks. Bucky returns the favor, and scratches his fingernails through Steve’s thickening scruff, the facial hair still not enough to be a beard yet but is well on its way. Bucky tells Steve how much he likes it, and hopes it’s motivation for Steve to keep it.

It’s nearing the late afternoon when they drag themselves out of the bath. Steve insists that Bucky wear some of his comfortable lounge clothes and kisses his cheek when he leaves him in favor of starting dinner.

Bucky’s just finished combing his hair and tying it up into a bun when there’s a knock on the door.

He opens it to find Margie. She has a blank look on her face, but her turned-down eyebrows give away that she is mad. Bucky opens his mouth to tell her that her dad is in the kitchen, but she cuts him off.

“You have some real nerve, you know that?” she asks him, voice coming out in a low hiss. He really should have expected this. “Don’t get comfortable, someone like you is only temporary in our lives,” she bites, before whirling around and stomping off.

Bucky watches her back retreat down the hallway and likely to the kitchen. He’s frozen where he stands in Steve’s bedroom doorway, unable to move, like she pinned him to the floor with her words. He hates that such a good mood was ruined by a single sentence, and what’s more, he hates that she’s probably right.

Because he’s fooling himself, isn’t he? Hell, he’s not even out of college yet, and he quite frankly has no idea what he’s going to do with his life when he does graduate next year. Maybe his grades and internship experience will land him a job, maybe he’ll be stuck with a useless degree pouring drinks for the rest of his life; he doesn’t know.

Of course the idea of being with Steve is tempting because of the security. If Steve wanted him, wanted to be with him, have a future with him, Bucky wouldn’t have such a crushing deadline to get his shit together. Steve has money, he has his life together, and that kind of stability is endlessly appealing.

But Steve’s so much more than that; he’s kind and caring, he fucks like a dream, and most importantly, he doesn’t judge Bucky for his age. In fact, Steve rarely ever mentions it; like it’s just a thing that exists, a quality about Bucky like the color of his hair. And that’s it. They’re just Steve and Bucky.

But the power disparity between the two of them is still evident. Of course he knows that.

And what does Bucky offer? A warm hole? He feels shame prickle up his neck. Their relationship started from casual sex, and it’s probably going to end that way, too. Margie is right; he’s temporary in their lives. He’s here as a stress release for Steve, enjoying their casual relationship, but in the end, they all know Bucky isn't cut out for the long haul.

Because when kids are involved, the long haul is marriage, the long haul is being a stepparent. The long haul is being a responsible partner that has their shit together. How can he have that at 22? How can he be that while still so young?

Steve senses something is wrong when he enters the kitchen, feet and legs heavy as he feels so weighed down by his thoughts. Margie is quiet where she stands, watching him with her piercing blue eyes. He tries to force a smile, but the inevitable won’t leave his mind.

Sarah gets dropped off when dinner is almost done, and she is a happy distraction from his thoughts. He takes her to the living room and listens to her talk a mile a minute about her day, enjoying how she bounces from topic to topic and is so excited about everything she nearly runs out of breath.

Dinner is a little awkward, but Bucky just smiles and nods along to the conversation, most of it revolving around topics that he can’t know about being an outsider. They talk about Uncle Sam (not apparently the U.S. propaganda character) and mom, who apparently lives in England. Steve mentions Margie’s birthday is coming up soon and asks her what she wants.

“Well, I’d love more band merch. The Thunder Gods just released a new album,” she says. Bucky’s head perks up at the band name.

“You listen to Thunder Gods?” he asks, and Margie crosses her arms instantaneously, frowning and looking defensive. Bucky rushes to remedy her misunderstanding. “Oh, no, sorry, it’s just, I know them. Like, they’re friends of mine.”

Her eyes widen and mouth drops. “What?”

He nods. “Yeah, went to high school with Thor’s younger brother, Loki? They’re cool. I’d sneak out with my fake ID and see them play at the local bars when I was a freshman. I’m impressed they got so big so quickly.”

“That’s because they’re amazing,” she argues passionately, leaning forward. Bucky agrees.

“Yeah, they definitely are. Thor is a god on the drums. I guess he has to put those muscles to use somehow.” Margie laughs a little dreamily.

“That’s so cool, they’re one of my favorite bands. I can't believe you know them.”

Bucky takes a bite of his chicken, chewing thoughtfully. Maybe Margie will like him more because he knows her favorite band. Then, he frowns. He doesn’t want Margie to only like him because of his friends, he wants her to like him for him, and be okay with Bucky being with her dad.

He glances at Steve, who is smiling as his eyes scan the table. Steve probably thinks they’re all getting along. The older man’s eyes land on him and he winks as he chews, then Bucky feels Steve play footsie with him under the table. He averts his eyes, staring down at his dinner. He can feel his face heat up at the blatant flirting in front of the girls.

He makes the mistake of looking up to see Margie staring at him, mouth pulled down in distaste as she watches them.

So much for hoping to get along.

Bucky, despite the fact that Margie dislikes him, is invited to her birthday party two weeks later. He manages to get two tickets to a Thunder Gods concert that’s playing at a bar in a few weeks, but Thor promised him so long as an adult accompanies her, she’ll get into the show. The tickets are stuffed into an envelope without a card. He figures Margie wouldn’t appreciate anything else.

He’s nervous as he walks through the door, seeing that there is a proper birthday party going on. Steve’s hung streamers on the door frames and there are purple and pink balloons floating everywhere. There are also a lot of people, and they’re all people he doesn’t know.

A few adults give him greeting smiles as he walks through the apartment. He sees Sharon further into the apartment talking to someone, but he doesn’t really know Sharon well enough to talk up to her in a crowded room. He doesn’t see Steve, Margie, or Sarah anywhere, but there are some younger kids running around. It’s mostly just adults standing in little huddles with purple plastic cups and party plates with stuff from the veggie and dip trays in the kitchen, which is where Bucky ends up finding himself.

He feels so out of place it’s disheartening; there is not a single familiar face besides Sharon, which really should have been expected considering he hasn’t met anyone from Steve’s life besides Sarah’s preschool teacher, who is expectedly not here. He sighs and pours himself a cup of punch when someone starts talking to him.

“Oh, hello. I thought I knew all of Margie’s friends. What’s your name?” a woman’s voice with a British accent asks him. He turns and sees a beautiful woman with chestnut brown hair and sparkling green eyes, which pop dramatically from the contrast with the red color of her lips. He recognizes her face from some of the framed pictures on the walls.

This is the mom.

“Oh, uhm I’m not a… I’m a friend of Steve’s,” he says, feeling really out of his element. She looks at him with calculating eyes then gives him a short smile.

“I see. Bucky, is it?” she asks, and Bucky is caught so off guard that she knows his name, knows who he is. How much she knows about him and who the person was who told her, he isn’t sure.

“O-oh, uhm, yes. My name is James but I got by, uh, Bucky. And, uhm, sorry, I know you are the…”

He doesn’t know what to say. The wife? The ex? The mom? She mercifully supplies, “Yes, Peggy, Sarah and Margret’s mother. Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

Her words sound flat, like she doesn’t really mean it when she says nice to meet you even though she has a smile plastered to her mouth. Bucky feels so off, like he shouldn’t be here. He really doesn’t belong here.

Maybe he can just drop off the tickets and leave. Except now that Peggy’s seen him, he’s sure she will tell Steve, who will wonder why Bucky came by and left without saying anything. Bucky tries to smile at her, grips his cup tightly, and desperately grasps for anything to say. Except his mind comes up empty; all he can think about are his spiraling thoughts, wondering how much she’s judging him for being the younger piece of ass her ex is fucking, judging Steve for bring Bucky around her children.

“Oh, you’re here,” Margie says from behind him. Bucky jumps a little, but turns to see Margie staring at him along with two of her friends. He ignores Peggy’s eyes on him, watching their interaction. Peggy seeing how much Margie dislikes him is probably the nail in the coffin for all of this. He’s sure Peggy is going to tell Steve to abandon this fling he’s having, since Margie views Bucky so negatively.

“Dad’s in Sarah’s room, she spilled punch on her outfit,” Margie tells him, and then starts to turn away.

“Oh, uhm, Margie, I want to give this to you,” he says, catching her attention. He doesn’t really want her to open his gift in front of people, so doing it now is probably best with only a few eyes on him. Margie looks at him curiously while he fishes the crumpled envelope from his back pocket.

He hands it to her, and she takes it skeptically.

“Uhm, if you can get your mom or dad to go with you, it should be fine. But, uh—Happy birthday.”

He watches, nervous to all hell, as she opens the envelope to see what’s inside.

“Oh my GOD!” Margie shrieks, looking down at the tickets in her hands. She looks up at Bucky with wide eyes. He chuckles nervously and scratches the back of his neck.

He doesn’t know what to say. She’s just staring at him with wide, unbelieving eyes, and he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Peggy walks up to her and peers over to look at the tickets curiously. Bucky starts to form an apology—maybe a concert at a bar is an irresponsible thing to give, even if they’re her favorite band. He doesn’t know Peggy’s parenting style, and was going off of the assumption that he could convince Steve to take her, but—

“Thank you, this is amazing,” Margie says genuinely, looking down at the tickets.

“S-sure, uhm, but, be sure to, y’know talk to your dad about it.” Peggy looks at him, a frown pulling on her lips. He opens his mouth to say, or your mom, but doesn’t she live in England? God, he doesn’t even know their parenting arrangements. Do the girls go to London for the summer? Are they even going to be in town when the concert is? He probably should have talked to Steve about this, but he was so frazzled about even being invited to this party when Margie doesn’t even like him, and he just wanted to get her something he knew she’d like…

“Hey, Buck, glad you could make it,” Steve says as he strides into the kitchen. He gives Bucky a private little smile, and walks right up to him to press a kiss to his forehead.

In front of everyone.

Bucky combusts internally, stuttering out a reply. He doesn’t want Steve to be so open in front of Margie when she’s clearly uncomfortable with it, and who knows how Peggy feels.

Then Sarah runs into the kitchen, as always the perfect distraction. She sees Bucky and screams and flings herself right at him. He laughs and picks her up, holding her up high so she squeals and then bringing her to his chest with her legs wrapped around his hips so that he can hold her properly.

“Bucky!! I missed you! I spilled punch on my party dress but this is my second favorite dress so it’s okay!” Sarah tells him excitedly. He laughs and glances at Margie, who is showing Steve the tickets.

He looks down at Sarah's Moana dress, which is an emerald green thing with a tutu and Moana’s face on the chest. “It’s a very nice dress,” he tells her, which makes her laugh with glee, and then wiggle to be put down.

When she runs out of the kitchen, Bucky feels nervous again. Steve’s nodding and smiling about the tickets, but Peggy is standing with her arms crossed and not looking very happy.

“Well, I think it’s time for presents then!” Steve declares loudly, which makes Margie groan. Steve herds them out of the kitchen and into the living room, where the rest of the guests gather. He slings his arm around Bucky’s waist, which simultaneously makes his insides wobbly and makes his stomach drop in worry that all of Steve’s friends now see that he’s the young hot slice that Steve is fucking.

He feels everyone’s eyes on him while Margie unwraps each present. It’s hard to focus when he often looks up and sees someone staring at them. He’s standing behind the couch with Steve, Peggy, Margie, and Sarah sitting in front of them. It makes him feel even more out of place. He shouldn’t be here, with the family. Clearly Steve’s friends find it odd. His skin feels like it’s crawling and his chest tightens and suddenly he can’t breathe.

He’s had panic attacks before, he knows what they feel like. He had an awful panic attack before finals week his freshman year, and he’s often battled anxiety before games in both high school and college.

But this? Having an attack in front of all of Steve’s friends, his daughters, and his ex, while he should be watching Margie open her presents? This is something he’s never experienced. His throat closes up, his chest feels like someone is sitting on it and making it hard to breathe, even though he knows he can. He’s shaking, and he feels Steve look at him, but he can’t meet his eyes back.

He’s trying to keep his face happy, like it should be as he watches Margie open her birthday presents and thank each person. But he can’t even do that. All he can think about is how much he shouldn’t be here and how badly he wants to leave and how much it breaks his heart that he can’t be good for Steve, can’t be good for the girls, no matter how desperately he wants to be.

He manages to suck in a breath and mutter that he needs to go to the bathroom, only loud enough for Steve to hear. He knows Steve won’t follow him while Margie is still opening her presents; he wouldn’t want to miss it, nor should he. This is his daughter’s special day, and he should have all of his attention on her, not Bucky. He feels his cheeks burn as he slips out of the living room, and goes to Steve’s master bathroom to avoid taking up the main bathroom from other guests.

He locks the door behind him and gasps out a sob. He scrambles to turn on the faucet so that his noises are drowned out, but he still tries to keep himself quiet. He doesn’t need to draw anymore attention away from Margie. This is so fucking inconvenient and selfish, he hates himself for it.

His hands shake where they’re pressed to the bathroom counter, trying to get his breathing under control. Tears prickle at his eyes and he squeezes them shut. God, why can’t he get himself together, why can’t he get through one fucking social function with the important people in Steve’s life? He can’t even be normal at a fucking birthday party.

He chokes out another sob and rubs his closed eyes hard with his knuckles, willing the sinking feeling of wrong away. He just needs to get back to enough normalcy to leave. He just needs to be able say sorry, I have to go and run the fuck out of here with his tail between his legs.

Distantly, he hears everyone singing happy birthday, and he feels like an absolute asshole for not being there for that. He should be there, he wants to be there, but does it even matter? Margie of all people had said it best; Bucky is temporary. He’s not meant for their lives, he’s not for the long haul. He’s here to be a warm body for Steve to enjoy and then he’s gone.

Looks like his time is up.

A knock on the door startles him, and he scrambles to shut off the tap. A quiet, “Hey Buck, you okay?” from the other side of the door makes his stomach drop. Of course Steve came to find him. He’s too good, he’s too good for Bucky.

He looks up at himself in the mirror and sees his splotchy face and red-rimmed eyes and curses to himself. Steve’s going to be worried if he sees Bucky like this. How does he get out of the apartment without anyone seeing him? He should have walked out the door and ran home instead of coming into the bathroom.

He takes a steadying breath and says, “Yeah, I’m okay,” hoping Steve doesn’t catch the wobble in his voice. Steve’s quiet for a moment and then he hears talking from the other side of the door.

Despite anxiety still buzzing through his body and his throat feeling like it’s closing up, he splashes water on his face and wipes it off, trying to breathe deeply and get himself back to normal. His fingers tremble as he opens the door to find Steve and Peggy arguing.

“I don’t care about his intentions, it’s inappropriate to gift such a thing while she’s still so young,” Peggy says, and then her fierce green eyes land on him. She frowns in distaste, and she looks strikingly like Margie often does when she looks at him.

Oh. This is about him.

“Pegs, come on. This is not the time to talk about this, and quite frankly I don’t think you even have a ledge to stand on here,” Steve says, voice sounding tired. Bucky suddenly can’t feel the anxiety anymore.

He just feels numb.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Peggy bites.

“Oh come on, Pegs. It means in three days you’re going back to England and it doesn’t matter what your opinion of the concert is because you’re not going to be here.”

Peggy scoffs. “Oh come on yourself, Steve. We’ve been over this and you supported my decision.”

“I do support your decision, but the fact of the matter is, I'm the primary care provider of our daughters and I can take Margie to whatever concert she wants and you can’t do a damn thing to stop it.”

Peggy says something else back, and then Steve again, and their words sound distant to his ears and he’s not even listening to them anymore because Margie peeks in through the door looking upset. And it’s Bucky’s fault. It’s Bucky’s fault that they’re fighting, it’s Bucky’s fault that Margie’s birthday is being ruined, and it’s Bucky’s fault that she has that look on her face.

“Mom, come on,” Margie says in a small voice, and she doesn’t sound like Bucky’s ever heard her sound. She sounds like a kid, and despite the numbed feel of his body, his heart clenches painfully.

“And none of this would be happening if you stopped and thought about your actions for two seconds, Steve, because if you did then you wouldn’t be bringing some immature, slutty college kid around my daughters!”

And that’s—

That’s—

“God dammit, Peggy, how—”

“She’s right.”

All eyes are on him. Margie looks like she’s about to cry and it’s all he can focus on. He tries to give her a kind smile, but nothing he can do or say can make up for the hurt he’s caused her.

“It’s my fault, I’m sorry. I think I should leave.”

He starts to walk and Steve steps towards him, saying his name and reaching for him, but Bucky steps away.

“I need to go,” he says, voice bubbling from holding in his crying. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get away from them. He needs to fix the situation by leaving right this fucking second.

He practically runs out of the apartment, ignoring all of the eyes on him. He manages to keep any tears from falling until the door closes behind him. He dashes to the elevator and thanks the universe when the doors close without anyone stopping them.

Because no one would have stopped them, anyway. Because all of them know, even Steve, that his time is up, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

So, they break up, if Bucky can even call it that. He’s not sure if they were even dating to begin with. He doesn’t think about the semantics, and tries to focus on—

Tries to focus on—

There’s nothing to focus on. He finished his junior year with straight A’s, keeping his GPA. But he feels hollow about it, not feeling the usual pride from the rewards of hard work. He feels… empty.

Nat and Clint are concerned and try to talk to him several times, but he just tells him that he can’t. He can’t. And then he shuts himself in his room and shuts himself away from everyone.

Steve tries to call him, and it strikes so much fear into him, so much fear about hearing Steve saying that it's over that he denies the call and then blocks his number. He deletes the voicemail without listening to it, and prays that would be the last of it. Steve doesn’t have to say anything, he gets it. Message received. They don’t have to talk about it, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

He doesn’t cry, he just feels nothing. He thinks, distantly, that past breakups have never been this bad. He's always felt bummed and sad, but never like the earth under his feet has been ripped out from underneath him. He tells himself it’s just because he’s feeling extra stressed about his future. His internship will start soon and he’s nervous.

He knows it’s because he’s never felt so much for anyone he’s dated before. He thought himself in love. Well, he must have been mistaken. It wouldn’t be right for him to be in love with Steve; he’s hurt Steve and the girls too much, troubled them too much. It wouldn’t be right. So he convinces himself he wasn’t. Isn’t.

Slowly, he starts to feel like himself again. It’s been two weeks and he thinks maybe he’s finally coming out of the funk. He knew it’d get better, knew he'd been overreacting. He feels optimistic that soon he can put it all behind himself, that everything will go back to what it was before he ever met Steve. He works every shift terrified that Steve is going to show up, but he doesn’t. It’s just further proof that it’s over, and that it was always going to meet its end eventually.

He swallows it down and moves forward.

After the third week, he’s walking into his shift on a Sunday and is met with the last person he expects to see. Margie is marching into the bar at 6 PM on the dot, trailed after by the bouncer that checks IDs at the front. She looks angry, but Bucky can’t get past how wrong it is to see her in this place.

“You,” she seethes, and Dan is chasing after her.

“Sorry, Buck, she says it’s an emergency and she had to see you?” Dan says, looking apprehensive. Bucky opens his mouth and he stares at her, confused.

“Margie, what—”

“How can you just leave like that? I know I thought badly of you but I never expected you to be this fucking stupid,” she snaps. Bucky tries to form words but his mouth just hangs open, at a loss for anything to say.

“And you won’t even answer his calls. Is that really it? You’re done with us, just like that? You’re a fucking coward!”

“Alright, lady, you need to leave. This isn’t the emergency that you said it was, and you’re not about to come in here and harass our staff,” Dan is saying, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. She tries to jerk out of his hold, looking back at Bucky with fire in her eyes. She goes to yell something else, but Bucky finds himself saying—

“It was never going to last.” He doesn’t know why he says it. He knows it’s true. They’re just too different. It was just casual until— until he—

“Fine, if that’s the way it is, fine.” She spits the words, and then turns to let Dan escort her out. Bucky stares long after she’s gone, unable to understand. This was what it was supposed to be. Why did she come? Why did she yell at him? He did exactly what she had been wanting him to do from the beginning, why—

He doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t think about it. He tries not to think about it. He tries.

He fails.

Nat and Clint take him out bar hopping to lift his spirits. He gets shitfaced and confesses everything to them; how much he fucked up, how much he hates that he fucked up, and how much he loves Steve. Loves. Present tense.

Then he spends ten hours alternating between dry heaving into his toilet and passing out in cold sweats. His friends are supportive and take care of him. He loves them, but he hates that they know. He hates that Natasha tells him that maybe he’s misunderstood the situation. He hates that seed of doubt that’s been planted in him.

He just wants to move on. He wants things to go back to normal. He wants to forget about Steve and Sarah and Margie. But he can’t. Peggy’s words still ring in his ears at night, rattling around in his brain like a cicada that won’t stop chirping. He doesn’t blame her; she’s protective of her kids, he understands. Bucky was a stranger giving her daughter tickets to a seedy bar to see a band she’d never heard of. He gets it.

He was sleeping with her ex, of course she didn’t like him. Of course people thought he was a gold digger, or something. He’s a poor college kid, and Steve is lightyears out of his league. He gets it, okay.

But that seed of doubt festers.

It’s been a month and his internship starts. It’s at an industrial medical supplies company that he finds out, at orientation, was just bought by Stark Industries. He feels conflicted about it, but he works hard his first day and finds he really enjoys the people and his job for the summer. He’s hopeful. Maybe this is a good direction. Maybe he just had to have faith in his own plan.

He misses his stop on the subway back from Mid Town and ends up in SoHo. He sighs as he gets off of the subway platform and walks up to the street to see where he is. His eyes scan the familiar neighborhood, and he swallows down the anxious feeling bubbling up his throat and walks to the subway entrance across the street so that he can get back on the train going in the right direction.

Except, there is some commotion on the sidewalk when he crosses it, and he sees a little group gathered. There is a police man and a few people looking down at something, and when he walks past them is when he hears it.

Crying. A familiar voice is crying and yelling—his name.

“I want Bucky!! I want Bucky!!”

He doesn’t even think, just starts to push through the few people there, heartbeat thundering in his ears until he sees her. Sarah is sitting on the sidewalk with a scraped knee and her Moana shirt, pig tails, and her pink backpack around her shoulders, crying.

“Sarah!” he collapses on the ground in front of her, reaching forward to touch her face. The police officer is asking him who he is and if he knows this girl, and Sarah positively yells when she opens her eyes and sees him.

She screams his name and clambers to her feet before jumping into his arms, sobbing and saying his name over and over again. He’s trying to shush her and looks around— where is Steve? Where is Margie? Where is Sharon?

“Sir, I need your identification,” the officer says. He nods and pulls out his wallet and hands it to the police man without letting go of Sarah.

“Shh, sweetheart, it's okay. Where are your dad and sister? Why are you alone here?” he asks her, but she just grabs onto him tighter and cries. He does his best to explain to the officer that he knows this girl, and he’s going to call her dad. He pulls his phone out, still holding Sarah close to his chest while she leaks tears and probably snot all over his neck, and stares down at Steve’s contact information.

He’s still blocked, but their history doesn’t matter right now. He needs to get Sarah home. He swipes the little button to unblock him and presses call.

Steve answers after two rings.

“Bucky?” Steve answers, sounding terrible. His voice is rough and scratchy like he’s been crying. “Bucky, I can’t—I can’t, Sarah she’s—”

“I found her,” Bucky rushes to say. “Steve, I found her, she’s—she’s o-okay. She has a scraped knee but she’s—” Sarah’s still crying, saying his name over and over again, and he feels his own eyes start to water. Steve’s saying something but Bucky just shakes his head, at a loss for words.

“H-here, here’s a-a police officer,” he says, and then hands his phone to the cop, who starts asking questions and then starts rattling off directions. The police officer just looks down at Bucky and he has to look away, cheeks heating as he hugs Sarah tighter.

Steve’s coming. He’s probably running, which Bucky would too if his daughter disappeared and then suddenly turned up. He can’t even worry about seeing Steve for the first time in a month after their disastrous breakup. It’s fine, it’s fine, he tells himself. He’s just so glad he happened upon Sarah. He’s so glad he can get her home.

Sarah’s crying evens out and he pulls back enough to look at her. His knees are killing him from kneeling on the cement for so long, but he ignores it in favor of looking down at Sarah with her watery and blue eyes.

“Sarah, what happened, honey? How did you get here?” he asks her. Her bottom lip trembles.

“I was looking for you, Bucky,” she says to him in her little voice that’s clearly on the edge of crying again. His heart breaks right in half.

It’s his fault.

“Sarah!” Steve yells, and both of them look up and see the 6-foot-4 giant of a man barreling down the sidewalk with Margie behind him. They both have glassy eyes, and Sarah steps away from Bucky in time to be pulled up into a hug from Steve. He has a beard. Bucky blinks stupidly at him.

“Daddy,” Sarah cries. “Daddy, I’m sorry.”

Steve just rocks her, big shoulders shaking. Margie stares at him from behind Steve. The police officer starts saying something to Steve, but Bucky can’t focus because his eyes are locked on Steve’s.

It only lasts a moment, though, because Steve has to pull away and talk to the officer. He wipes a few tears away and answers questions and thanks the police officer while Sarah turns to Bucky and puts her small hand on his face.

“I found you,” she tells him. She definitely sounds and looks like she’s been crying, but she smiles and looks happy, too. “Daddy,” she says, turning back to Steve and tugging on his hand in hers. “Daddy, I found Bucky.”

Steve, Margie, and the police officer look down at him, legs numb under him.

“Yeah, pumpkin,” Steve says softly with an expression he can’t understand. “Yeah, you did.”

He needs to leave.

He stands up awkwardly, stumbling a little from his numb legs. He winces as his legs straighten out, and Steve reaches for him to steady him. He avoids Steve’s eyes and looks down at Sarah, who is still grinning up at him.

“Sarah,” he says, and the seriousness of his tone makes her smile dim. “Sarah, honey, I’m happy to see you, but you can’t run away like that again. You can’t…” he loses his thought process on what to say. He’s not her parent. He’s not anything to her. He can’t do this, he’s not the person that should be doing this.

Still, he crouches down and cups her chubby face in his hands and kisses her forehead. “You have to promise me you won’t do this again,” he says. She frowns.

“But you didn’t come back,” she protests. Bucky’s struck with the sudden, intense need to cry. He looks up at Steve, hoping he’ll know what to say, but he doesn’t look much better. He settles his eyes back on Sarah.

“Honey, I know, but that doesn’t mean you can run away to look for me, okay? This was really unsafe. Something really bad could have happened,” he tells her, which makes more tears well up in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just missed you and you didn’t come back,” she cries.

Bucky has to wipe his own eyes and he can’t keep himself from pulling her back into a hug. He sighs, unsure of what to do or say. She holds onto him tightly, but she’s going to have to let go.

“Will you… come back with us?” Steve asks him, sounding unsure. Bucky glances up at him, wants to decline, wants to say no and run away and never face any of them ever again.

But he’s weak. Sarah’s clinging to him and his heart is shattered in pieces.

“If you… if you want me to.”

Steve gives him a little smile, while he, Margie, and Sarah all look rough from the high emotions and the crying as they look at Bucky. He nods and stands up, taking Sarah with him. She grips onto him tightly, keeping her face buried in his neck while he carries her.

They’re only three blocks away from the apartment. His arms start to get tired halfway through, but she refuses to let him go when he tries to pass her off to Steve. Steve looks a little hurt that his daughter won’t go to him, but he doesn’t say anything. Margie is quiet the entire time.

When they get back into the apartment, Bucky doesn’t know what to say or do. Steve’s able to coax Sarah off of him and takes her to her room so he can bandage her knee. Before they disappear down the hallway, though, Sarah looks at him with a determined glint in her eye and says, “Promise not to leave!”

Bucky deflates and nods. “Promise.”

Then, he’s just standing awkwardly in the open apartment, stuck between going to the sink in the kitchen to wash his hands and wipe the dried snot and tears from his neck and collapsing down on the couch. Margie appears and to avoid her eyes, he decides in favor of the kitchen.

She follows him.

He clears his throat and reaches to tear off a paper towel after washing his hands, and wets it to wipe off his neck. “How, uh, how long was she missing for?” he asks her.

Margie’s staring at him, leaning against a counter, but she doesn’t look mad for once. She shrugs. “Dad picked me up early from soccer practice around two… she was supposed to be home with the sitter but I guess she snuck out around noon and the sitter couldn't find her anywhere. Dad went berserk.”

Bucky nods, feeling a little overwhelmed. He wonders if Steve tried calling him. He didn’t get off work until three, and it’s well past four now. His stomach twists in knots.

“I, uh, missed my stop home. I was just about to walk down to the platform when I saw her,” he offers. Steve appears in the doorway, looking a little beat up but alert.

“She took the contact info out of her backpack,” Steve says as he walks into the room and opens the cabinet to get himself a glass of water. Bucky tries not to think about the last time the three of them were in this kitchen.

There is silence between them as Steve fills his glass, but Bucky can’t let it last.

“I’m sorry,” bursts out of him. Steve looks at him, confused. “I’m sorry, she came looking for me, and if I had just—”

“Just what?” Margie asks him, sounding irritated. “This isn’t your fault, it’s mine. I told her I went to see you.”

Steve’s head jerks between the two of them. “What? You went to see him?” he demands of Margie. Her mouth turns into a frown and she looks away, shrugging. Steve turns to Bucky.

“I—uhm, yeah. Uh, Margie… Look, it doesn’t matter, it’s my fault,” he protests. Margie shakes her head stepping forward.

“No, it’s my fault. She asked me what happened to you and she said she wants you to come back and I told her I already tried and to just forget about you,” she argues. Steve sputters.

“What? That’s not what—”

“Margie, I already explained to you that—”

“No! He’s being stupid. You’re both being so stupid! And maybe it’s partly my fault for not liking him and I apologize for it, but mom shouldn’t have said that about him because he’s not—Bucky’s not—”

“Margie,” Bucky cuts it softly. “Margie I told you, it’s my fault and it was going to happen anyway.”

Steve and Margie stare at him; Margie crossing her arms and looking irritated while Steve looks… broken.

“It was?” he asks, voice failing him. Bucky tries to look away. “Buck, were you… I—I didn’t know you were… unhappy.”

Bucky sputters, feeling the conversation derail. “Of course I was happy with you, you idiot!” he yells, facing Steve’s sad blue eyes. “But it was going to end eventually, wasn’t it?”

Steve scrunches his face in hurt confusion. “Why? Why would it end?”

Bucky throws his hands up, huffing out an aggravated breath. “What do you mean, why? What do you think, I’m step-dad material or something? I mean, look at me, what did you expect was going to happen? That we’d get married and run off into the sunset?” he yells a little hysterically.

“I don’t understand,” Steve says. Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Christ, do I have to spell it out for you and humiliate myself further? Anyone can see we don’t deserve each other!” he hollers. Steve’s eyes are wide and wet, and all Bucky can think about is that he made him look like that. Why does he keep doing this? Why does he keep breaking things?

“So you never loved him” Margie says behind him somewhere, and the accusation makes his blood boil. Without even processing it, he turns to her and flails,

“Of course I love him! That’s the problem. I don’t deserve him!”

Silence.

He’s breathing heavily, staring at Margie’s smug face. Why does she look so smug, with her little smirk and raised eyebrow? He realizes what he’s shouted and turns to Steve to apologize, to tell him to forget about it, to—well, to say anything.

But Steve’s just looking at him with wide eyes and wonder on his face. “You love me?” he asks, voice akin to awe. Bucky’s hit with sudden insecurity. He didn’t want to tell him that. And as much as he’s been denying it the last month, telling himself it wasn’t love, isn’t love, he knows it is.

He wants to deny it to Steve, though. Say he didn’t mean it, but then Steve is saying, “Buck, I love you, too.”

And the whole fucking world gets turned upside down. His eyes are welling up with tears again and his throat is closing up, and hasn’t he cried enough today? He's imagining this, isn’t he? They don’t love each other and they broke up because they don’t work, Bucky doesn’t fit in here. That much has already been established and it’s not fair to be messing him up like this.

“We don’t fit,” he tries to say, shaking his head. Steve reaches out for him.

“Thought we fit together pretty well,” he fires back, a teasing tone underlying his words that makes Margie groan in disgust and mutter, “Ew, dad, gross.”

Bucky shakes his head more fervently and steps back from Steve’s reach, but the older man is undeterred. He just crowds up closer to him and grabs his hand and pulls him in.

“No, we broke up, we don’t fit together and I don't fit in here, I upset everyone and—and—”

Steve shakes his head no, eyelids lowering as he looks down at his face. “No, Buck, you fit in so well. You fit so well Sarah went looking for you because you’ve been missing, don’t you see that?” he says, urging Bucky to understand. But Bucky can’t understand. He’s too afraid to understand. He made his decision and he closed this door because it’s too painful to open back up.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Steve uses one of those big thumbs to wipe at his cheek. He looks at him so tenderly, it crumbles the rest of Bucky’s resolve to protest. He reaches out with a trembling hand to pull at Steve’s shirt, relishing in the body heat that’s radiating off of Steve. He’d missed how warm he is. He’s been so cold at night, even in this summer heat.

“Buck,” Steve says quietly, looking at him with affirmation and such kind eyes. “Buck, I love you. We love you. Come back to us,” he requests, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

He has to swallow, tries to get a grip of himself and not start crying like a baby. He nods once, just an easy jerk of his head, and then he can’t stop. Steve’s face blossoms into a smile, and he’s rushing forward to kiss him, holding Bucky’s face in his big hands.

Bucky pulls him in and holds him there, not wanting to let him go. It feels too good to have Steve’s mouth back on his, feels too good as he thinks about what it means; that Steve wants him, that Steve loves him, that Bucky fits into his life despite everything.

Margie clears her throat when they’ve been kissing for too long, and they pull apart a little sheepishly for forgetting they have an audience. Both of them turn their heads and their gazes land on Sarah, who is hugging her older sister’s leg.

“Bucky here to stay?” she asks timidly. The three sets of identical blue eyes look to him to answer. Even though his insides feel weak and wobbly from the roller coaster of emotions, he can’t help but laugh out loud.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

The eventful day ends with the four of them piled on the couch. Sarah, unsurprisingly, falls asleep on Bucky halfway through Aladdin. Steve’s pressed to his side and has his arm slung over his shoulders, with Margie tucked into Steve’s other side.

“C’mon, we should get them to bed,” Steve says when the movie is over. Margie is awake but looks just barely so, and Sarah is making little snoring sounds where her cheek is pressed to his stomach.

He’s never done the bedtime routine, but Sarah has already been changed into her pajamas so he just carefully scoops her up and holds her so that Steve can kiss her sleeping face goodnight. Bucky carries her to her room and lays her down in her bed, tucking her in safely under the covers. He has a lot to thank her for someday when she’s old enough to understand exactly what she’s done for him.

Steve appears behind him, arms circling around his waist and hooking his chin over Bucky’s shoulder. They both look down at Sarah as she sleeps peacefully.

“I’m really sorry, still, that she came looking for me,” Bucky whispers. Steve hums softly and tugs at him to turn him around so that they’re facing each other.

“She’s safe, and you’re back in my arms. That’s all that matters,” Steve tells him before he kisses him.

They pull each other to Steve’s bedroom, getting more and more frantic with every step. Steve’s closing the door quietly behind them and locking it while somehow simultaneously getting Bucky’s shirt over his head and unbuttoning his own pants. They break apart for only seconds as they rush to get their clothing off, pulling back together to kiss with teeth and tongue.

Steve practically drags Bucky to the bed, dragging him up and over him as he lays down. Bucky settles on top of him, thighs spread across Steve’s hips, erections touching, his hands pressed to Steve’s thick pecs for balance. Steve stares up at him with wonder, hands gripping at Bucky’s hips and ass.

“Missed you so much, baby boy,” he tells him, words heavy with feeling. Bucky swallows and blinks, nods, leans down to kiss him.

“Missed you, daddy. I’m so sorry,” he says, but Steve shushes him.

“No, no, sweetheart. No more apologizing. You’re here with me now,” he says.

Steve holds Bucky’s hips while he leans over to pull a condom and lube from the bedside table. He hesitates when he sets the foil down, looking down at Steve in the dark.

“I… I haven’t been with anyone,” he confesses, thinking about the negative test results he had gotten back just days after walking out of Steve's life. Steve reaches up and pushes a flyaway of hair out of Bucky’s face.

“Me neither, sweet boy. But we can wait, if you want,” he offers.

Bucky’s finding himself shaking his head no. “I want you. I want to feel it,” he says.

Steve groans and nods, reaches for the bottle of lube. “Turn around for me, sweetheart.”

Bucky obliges with a blush, turning so that his bare ass is pointed right to Steve’s face. It’s dark save for a single night light, so there isn’t much he can see, but it’s still a precarious position.

He’s not up Steve’s body enough to be able to get his mouth on his cock, but his hands are free and he puts them to use. Steve starts him off with a single finger, which frustrates him and is grateful for at the same time. He was truthful when he said he hadn’t been with anyone, and he really couldn’t bring himself to masturbate either. He misses how he used to be nearly ready for Steve anytime, just needed a few fingers and lube and he could swallow him right down.

They’ll have to work back up to it, he thinks to himself.

Steve’s cock is heavy and hard in his hand, the familiar curve and the wet tip a feeling he didn’t realize how much he missed. Steve hums behind him, sinking two fingers into him and making Bucky moan at the stretch. He fingers him leisurely, knowing all of the tricks to get Bucky to shake apart and needy for his cock.

Except Bucky was already needy, already craving soothing for that ache inside of him, so Steve's slow preparation is torturous at best. Still, he needs it, wincing as his rim stretches around four fingers, which he needs to comfortably sit on the girth of that cock. Steve keeps murmuring to him, telling him how good he is and how much he’s missed him. It makes Bucky’s heart ache, but in a good way.

Finally, Steve retracts his fingers and gives his ass a good smack before telling him to turn around. Bucky nearly faceplants in his haste, settling back to face Steve and take the bottle of lube into his hands. He slicks up Steve’s bare cock, anticipation bubbling away in his gut at the bare feeling of him. Steve thumbs over his pierced nipples, making a shiver run down Bucky’s spine.

He can’t wait any longer. He lifts up and scoots forward, holding the base of Steve’s slick cock and maneuvering his hips until he feels the kiss of the head against the clutch of his hole. He takes a deep breath and sinks down.

The stretch is immaculate. The breath in his lungs expels in a long whoosh, body shivering as he swallows up Steve inside of him. He missed this so much, and the easy glide of Steve’s bare dick is addicting. The older man moans underneath him, fingers pinching and twisting at his nipple piercings. He trembles until he’s made his way all the way down, until he’s fully seated on Steve’s cock.

The feeling of being this full again, held by Steve as he’s made to feel so damn good, makes him start to cry. He can’t help the sniffle, an odd mix of emotion as Steve rocks up into him. He’s pulled down to meet Steve’s mouth with his own, kissing him tenderly at first and then a little more frantically. Steve holds him by the back of his head, the other hand curved around his neck in a possessive way.

This is where he belongs.

Steve thrusts up into him from below, and Bucky’s hips begin to grind back so that he’s meeting each thrust. It feels heavenly being connected once more, a feeling he didn’t think he’d have with Steve again. A few tears fall down his cheeks and Steve kisses them away.

They fuck slowly, breathing each other’s air, feeling each inch of the other’s body. Steve holds him firmly, fucking up into him in a sweet rhythm, setting his body aflame with the passion of it all.

“Love you, baby,” Steve rumbles, looking up at him as he starts to fuck up harder. Bucky moans, pleasure rushing through him from the words during such a moment.

“Daddy,” Bucky croaks out, fucking himself down harder and faster on Steve’s cock. “Daddy, love you, love you,” he chants.

From there they go from passionate to wild, overwrought from the emotion and pleasure of it, the fact that they’ve reunited after being apart too long. Steve holds him and he fucks up, sweat breaking out over his brow, moving with such force that Bucky ends up bouncing in his lap.

“Feel so good on daddy’s cock, baby boy. Never want anything between that pussy and daddy’s cock again,” Steve’s rambling, hand gripping tighter on his neck. Bucky’s eyes flutter closed from Steve’s words and his hand, clenching down on the cock spearing him open.

“Love you, daddy, love your cock. Please come in me, daddy, please—” his rambling breaks off into a moan when Steve moves the hand fisting his hair down to grab his dick that’s been wetly slapping against Steve’s stomach. He jerks him fast and pulls Bucky down by his neck.

“Come on daddy’s cock,” Steve orders before kissing him, and Bucky is gone, jumping head-first off the ledge. He cries as he comes, still bouncing as well as he can on Steve’s cock, really riding out his orgasm as he clenches uncontrollably around him.

Steve groans long and low before fucking up once, twice, and coming himself. He grunts through it, noises breathed into Bucky’s open mouth, holding him there by his neck. Bucky relishes in the feel of it, not able to really tell but imagining Steve spilling inside of him. He moans a little, and blinks down at his daddy.

“Love you,” he says again. “Thank you.”

Steve brushes his hair out of his face, his bun long disheveled and mussed.

“Love you so much, baby,” Steve rumbles.

And Bucky believes him.

The afternoon is a little brisk for a September day, but Bucky can’t complain too much. He’s wrapped in a new leather jacket that Steve has gotten for him when he finished his internship in August, and while it’s not broken-in fully yet, he’s excited to wear it as the season changes from summer to fall.

He pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head, scratches around his nose piercing, and waits outside of the Lincoln Elementary School front entrance with his school bag slung over one shoulder. He got out of his last class of the day forty minutes ago, and he already loves the two classes he has with Dr. Banner this term. He’s feeling optimistic about his second-to-last semester of his bachelor’s, and has been working with his adviser on graduate applications and scheduling the GRE test he’ll have to take next month.

The bell rings and within minutes the doors spill open with kids of various ages. The kindergarteners are easy to spot because they’re the shortest, and soon he spies Sarah’s brown pigtails among the rest of small heads. He’s surprised that her hair is still intact from when he did it that morning.

The moment she sees him, her eyes light up and she runs to him, shrieking his name and firing off a list of all of the amazing things she did in school that day. He laughs and pets her head, and gestures to start the short walk home.

“Ooh, wait, wait!” she cries and stops, flinging her Moana backpack onto the ground. She opens it and pulls out her pink pleather jacket and sunglasses, and is quick to throw both of them on.

Bucky pulls his own sunglasses down to his nose, and holds out his hand for her to take. He’s sure they look like quite the pair, and the idea of it makes his mouth stretch into an even wider grin.

She shoves her hand into his and starts skipping while he walks, right in the direction towards home.