Chapter Text
For having grown up in a place as dull and frozen as the northeast, Louisiana was endlessly inviting and enticing — you loved the heat, loved the energy and spirit of those around you, loved living in a place where you could hear the ocean. Proof that something bigger, and more powerful, than anything occupying your world was out there; and here you were, coexisting with it. Yes, you loved your newfound life here — and you owed it all to one James Buchanan Barnes.
He had finally coaxed you out of your Brooklyn apartment one Memorial Day weekend, with an open invitation from Sam and Sarah to stay in the extra bedroom; you had been worried about the imposition, but after Bucky had put Sam on speakerphone one evening to guilt you into the visit, you finally conceded. When you packed your bag for the holiday weekend, you had no idea that you would come to love the small town within a matter of three days; but you had, and from the moment you and Bucky had touched down at JFK, you knew you were ready to go back.
You had eagerly leapt on any invitation that was extended, and one late summer evening while Sam and Bucky played with AJ and Cass in the yard, you found yourself watching them from the open window — you came to the realization that something about this moment just felt right. Like the pieces were finally coming together, after a lifetime of feeling scattered, feeling lost. Sarah picked up on the look in your eye easily, but that came as little surprise. The two of you had gotten to be good friends through the course of your visits, spending many a evening on her porch with a glass of iced tea — or wine — and she had a knack for seeing into people as it was.
She leaned back into the countertop, looking at you with a knowing smile. “You and Bucky seem happy here.”
You were startled out of your reverie, having been lost in the picturesque moment of joy in front of you; Sam was teaching AJ some boxing moves, and Bucky was wrestling with Cass, letting him win as he pinned him into the overgrown grass. Sarah’s comment had been spot on; you were certainly happier here than you had been anywhere else. “Yeah, we are happy here,” you sighed with a smile. “Things feel... right. I don’t have a better word for it, we can blame that on the wine — but yeah, things feel right.”
“Feels like home?”
Ah, yes. That was the word for it.
Your apartment in Brooklyn was nice, it was cozy and familiar, and you certainly loved it more now that it was shared with Bucky and Alpine. But when you thought about home — the brownstone wasn’t what came to mind. You thought about Louisiana, you thought about exactly where you were in this moment. You thought of cookouts filled with family, friends, and food; you thought of early morning trips to the small diner for the best biscuits and gravy to grace this earth; you thought of the many late nights spent drunkenly dancing with Bucky on the docks, while the two of you hummed off-key.
Taking a sip of your wine, you turned to look at Sarah. “Yeah, home. That’s the word.”
She nodded, her assessment having been correct. She seemed to think about her next words carefully, pausing before speaking again. “Have you two ever thought about moving here?”
You blinked in surprise to her question. “N-no, or at least, I haven’t — I mean, we have the apartment, and...” you trailed off, realizing that the only thing keeping you tied to the city was the fact that your belongings were there. You laughed, rubbing your hands across your face as the realization hit you. If this felt like home, why not make it home?
“There’s a house going up for sale down the road. You remember the Braxton’s, they were here for the Fourth of July. Her husband passed recently, so her son’s moving her in with his family, and they’re looking to sell the house.”
Your heart rate began to pick up speed as flashes of images ran through your mind — a house with Bucky, a home, one in a place where the two of you felt more at peace than you had ever believed to be possible. You thought of dinners shared in the late evening sun, mornings spent on the docks, Christmases shared with those who you considered as family — without the hassle of plane tickets. You coughed as you cleared your throat, trying to dislodge the nervousness that had settled there. “You think... d’you think that Bucky would want — would want to move?”
Sarah laughed, a bright and boisterous sound filling the kitchen that had always been brimming with love. “That man would move heaven and earth for you, if you asked. I think he’d be more than happy to move some furniture.”
***
Sarah had been right, as per usual. You had approached Bucky about it cautiously, nervously, later than night; but your nervousness proved to be for naught as he grinned at you like a kid on Christmas morning. His blue eyes burned with a sort of fire that set off butterflies in your stomach, and when he said yes, yes, yes — you felt tears prick your eyes as you realized that soon, you would be coming home, but this time, with the intention to stay.
The moving process had been easier than you expected, but of course, moving countless boxes and items of furniture was easy when your boyfriend was a super-soldier with a vibranium arm. Sam had also come along to help load the moving van, and the two of them made short work of clearing out the apartment that you had lived in for the past several years. You felt a twinge of sadness as you closed the door, knowing the memories that the walls held, but you were excited for all of the new memories to be made within the walls of your new home.
You and Bucky had bought the house down the road from Sarah; it was well-loved and meticulously maintained, having been looked after by Mr Braxton for decades. Mrs Braxton was delighted to know that the two of you would be moving in, fondly remembering the time that Bucky had spent an entire winter’s day working with Mr Braxton to repair the hot water heater; and as you signed the documents that officially made the house your home, she only asked you for two things — to keep up her husband’s garden, and to share your banana bread recipe. You agreed to both wholeheartedly and with a laugh; and as you saw Bucky smiling at you from across the room, you knew that this journey was starting off on the right foot.
As you drove up the gravel road to the house that was now called home, you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face — the water was at your back door, the property was concealed and kept private by trees that looked perfect for climbing, and the wraparound porch offered the promise of countless nights of peace. You killed the engine and looked on at Bucky expectantly; somehow both nervous and excited.
“Y’gonna go inside, doll? Or was your plan to have us live in your car?” His cobalt-blue eyes were bright against the warm dusk of the evening, and a teasing grin worked its way onto his face.
You shrugged nonchalantly. “I figured the Tiguan would be pretty comfortable — the seats lay back —“ Your sarcastic response was quickly cut off by the feeling of Bucky’s lips against yours, soft and sweet and warm, but also holding the same sense of nervousness and trepidation that resided within your chest. Pulling back from him, you stared into those endless blue eyes that held the same depth and complexity of the ocean. “You — are you sure this is what you want?”
His hands came up to cradle your face gently; you felt the warmth of one and the coolness of another, loving the duality of the man seated next to you. “This is exactly what I’ve wanted — before I even knew what I wanted — this was it. It was always this. It was always you.”
A few hot tears rolled across your cheeks as you leaned in to kiss him, but it was only a quick peck as he quickly pulled away, unbuckling his seatbelt and hopping out of your car. He was at the driver’s side door in mere seconds, opening the door as you extricated yourself from the seatbelt. You moved to step out onto the gravel driveway, but before your feet hit the ground, Bucky’s arms had wrapped securely around you as he brought you into his chest; you laughed at the unexpected gesture, wrapping your arms around his neck as you nuzzled your head into his broad shoulders. “What’s all of this about, Mr Barnes?” You asked teasingly.
“Carrying you across the threshold,” he responded nonchalantly, but you noticed the blush creeping across his cheeks. “Bad luck not to.”
You relaxed into his strong grasp, trusting him not to let you fall — you had trusted him through everything, and this moment was no exception. He carried you up the stairs and across the porch before coming to the front door; it was just slightly ajar, as if someone hadn’t pulled it quite hard enough before leaving. But it offered the perfect opportunity for Bucky to nudge it open with his foot, not putting you down until the two of you were standing in the center of the house, looking on at this place that would now be called home. The floor creaked slightly underneath your weight as Bucky placed you down gently, and you couldn’t help but smile as you thought about the impossibility of kids trying to sneak through this old house, and the challenges the aged floorboards would certainly present.
“Welcome home, Bucky.”
“Welcome home, doll.”
***
Your first night in the house had been one full of excitement and passion. The four-bedroom house was admittedly more space than you needed, but the Braxtons had wanted the house to go to someone who was part of the community, rather than risk it being bought up by land developers; and as the two of you explored the house that was now your own, a devilish thought crept up on you.
“Y’know your superstition about carrying me across the threshold?” You asked loudly, as you leaned against the wall of what would soon become the master bedroom.
“Not a superstition,” Bucky called out from the private bathroom, as he opened every drawer and cabinet with curiosity.
“Superstition or not — I know of another one,” you teased. “It’s supposedly only right to christen every room.” You raised your eyebrows at him suggestively, winking as he caught on.
Bucky stepped towards you, quickly closing the gap between your bodies; you felt his arms wrap around you securely as he brought you into him for a desperate, needy kiss. “Well — best not to risk it. Let’s see, we’ve got our bedroom, one, two, three others, the living room, the kitchen, the laundry room, the garage —“
You cut off his rambling with an intense kiss, effectively quieting him as his attentions turned back to you and the rightful christening of your new home.
***
The two of you had been living in the small Louisiana town for almost a year now, and the house felt more and more like home with every day that passed. Your steadily-improving artwork graced the aging walls, Bucky’s socks were frequently found abandoned in the bathroom, and the garage had become the construction hub for the various household projects the two of you had taken on. Bucky’s book collection had grown to fill the built-in bookcases, and you had grown to fit the expansive kitchen you now had access to.
Sarah and her two boys had become the closest thing the two of you had ever known to family, and while Sam was not quite as consistent of a presence, he had gradually slipped into a brotherly role for Bucky. There were countless shared dinners, holidays were spent together, and you were endlessly grateful for the family that you had fumbled your way into. And when Sarah had a date one Friday evening, you and Bucky were more than willing to look after AJ and Cass, both boys being boisterous but incredibly fun and kind-hearted.
It had been an evening of pizza, video games, and nervous questions that couldn’t be asked of parents — and as you and Bucky tucked the exhausted kids into bed, well past Sarah’s set bedtime, the two of you looked on at the sleeping forms with a smile. You pulled the door of the guest bedroom closed softly, while Bucky’s strong arms wrapped around you securely as they pulled your weary form into his. You looked up into radiant blue eyes, blushing at the intensity with which he stared at you.
“That wasn’t too hard,” he commented, slowly guiding your tired bodies towards your bedroom. “Kids, I mean. I feel like we managed pretty well.”
You laughed as you tightened your grip around his narrow waist, feeling his muscles moving beneath your hands as he guided you to the bedroom. “I’m sure there’s more to kids than letting them play Mario Kart until 1AM and feeding them pizza.”
Bucky shrugged as he released you from his grasp, the two of you now securely closed within the privacy of your shared bedroom. “Sure, but you’re... good, with them. You’re good with kids — y’might be too smart for their own good, I don’t think they could ever sneak anything past you, but...”
His words trailed off nervously, and you desperately wanted to know what the end of that sentence might be. Your eyebrows raised in curiosity, hoping he’d finish that thought.
Bucky paused before getting into bed, his boxers hanging low against his well-muscled frame; your mind raced at the sight, heartbeat picking up as you felt heat rush to your cheeks. However, the comfort of bed was calling to you, neither of you used to being up so late anymore as the years had gone on. The two of you were wrapped securely within the comfort of bedsheets before Bucky spoke again, picking up the same thread of conversation that had been cut short just moments ago.
“You’d — well, what I was thinking, is you’d be a good — “
You cut him off with a kiss of sweet intensity, knowing the words on the tip of his tongue; you’d be a good mother. He didn’t need to say the words aloud for their weight and meaning to echo throughout the room. His admission of confidence and trust in you made you glow in a way that you hadn’t felt before — the thought of children had always seemed so far away, so far fetched that you hadn’t stopped and considered it as a possibility. But as you eagerly responded to Bucky’s exploratory, sensuous touch underneath the sheets, you started to wonder if that perceived impossibility may someday transform into a reality.
***
The sun was setting low against the docks, barely clinging to the skyline; and by this point in the evening, both you and Bucky were a few glasses of wine deep. Sam and Sarah had invited you over for dinner, and the quality of steaks that were grilled and the wine that was served indicated a certain level of formality that you hadn’t quite expected; your mind racing, you considered the dinner you would offer in response, not wanting to seem ungrateful for their generosity. Your thoughts of future dinners, however, were put on hold when Bucky’s cool hand came to rest upon yours before gently pulling you up and away from the table. Sam and Sarah shared a knowing look, while AJ and Cass continued to be entirely preoccupied by the food in front of them.
“Buck, what’s — what’s up?” you asked curiously, as he guided you through the yard and out onto the dock, the familiar area faintly illuminated by the warm glow of the soft and aging lights. There was a nervous look on his face, one that made you want to move forward and smooth it away with a kiss; but as you stepped into his broad frame, he grew rigid. “Bucky, is everything alright?”
He laughed, a hint of nervousness breaking through. “Better than alright, doll.”
You smiled in relief, moving to lean against the weathered wooden railing of the boat dock, trusting that his rigidity and resistance was for a reason, whatever that reason may be.
You watched as Bucky took a deep, and incredibly anxious breath. Your heart started to race as you looked on at the tall, pacing man, unsure of what could be unsettling him like this. He spoke quietly and slowly, the weight of his words quickly bringing you into the gravity of the moment. “From the time I was sixteen and taking a girl on my first date, I had imagined what this moment would be like. When I joined the military, that moment I had imagined, it changed — I started to think of all of the formalities, of asking my girl’s father and hoping that my rank proved to be something he would respect, and that I was someone he could entrust his daughter to.”
You felt your heart race, although your mind was racing along even faster, a faint but hopeful feeling growing within your chest as you hung on his every word.
“But then things went wrong, so horribly, awfully wrong — so wrong that I could never forgive myself for what had happened, for what I had done, for what I had become. I was — I was a monster —“
It was at this point his voice cracked, as did your dedication to any emotional reservation; you reached out towards the man pacing in front of you on the docks, but were unsure of what to do next. He allowed your hands to come to rest on his waist as he continued to speak, his eyes staying locked on you as he paused to steady himself.
“For so long, I was the Winter Soldier. And even after that, for so long, I was fighting for redemption — I was fighting to... to become someone that was worth all the saving. I knew that I wanted to be better, I wanted to be more, I wanted to be the kind of person that someone like you could love.”
“I do love you, Bucky, all of you. I always have and I always will,” You whispered softly in response, the crashing of the waves threatening to drown out your words. “There’s nothing I love more in this life than you.”
Bucky smiled, although his bottom lip trembled slightly. “I had been so worried that the universe would — would punish me for what I was. I was worried that I would never... never get the opportunity to be loved again. But you —“ His voice cracked once again, and you saw the intensity of emotion playing out on his face as he blinked rapidly and pursed his soft, pink lips together. “You loved me, even after I told you everything, and — and you didn’t run away. And even after that, for years I went to sleep every night worried that this might be it, that it might’ve been my last day with you. But you stayed, and every new morning I got with you felt like a miracle.”
You shook your head slowly, tears rolling hotly down your face as you thought of all the mornings you had shared, never knowing the fear and relief that had been playing out behind those blue eyes. “Of course I stayed, Buck — I always will.”
He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself before speaking again. “I know that now. And — and I want to spend every day waking up next to you, I want to spend every day being loved by someone as incredible as you.” He paused, before sticking his hands into the pockets of his black denim jacket and fidgeting. “Sixteen year old Buck, twenty-two year old Buck, hell, even the Buck you met all those years ago never could’ve imagined this life, or this moment right here, but it’s exactly what it was meant to be. It was always meant to be me and you, doll, and that’s what I always want it to be. And with that —“
The world slowed down around you as Bucky gently grabbed your shaking hand, the warmth of his gentle grip radiating through you. In this moment, you were fairly sure that the waves had stopped crashing, the wind had stopped blowing, everything in the world coming to a quiet and peaceful standstill as you watched him sink down onto one knee. Your breathing had stopped, your whole heart felt as though it had stopped — and you appreciated the universe pausing for just one moment, allowing you to commit this entire scene to memory. Looking down at the man kneeling in front of you, Bucky’s eyes looked brighter and clearer than you had ever seen, even with the few tears that threatened to spill.
He continued to hold your hand, anchoring himself to you, as his other hand disappeared into his jacket pocket to retrieve a small black box; the velvet looked soft and darker than the night, and it was accented with a delicate gold thread that formed an intricate B upon the top. The beautiful box, resting against the cool vibranium of his palm, matched so perfectly that you were sure this had been intentional. Bucky stared up at you as though you had hung the stars in the sky above, and he grinned as he opened the box that held his promise of the future, of an unconditional and unending love.
“Would you do me the extraordinary honor of spending every day with me? Will you marry me?”
His voice rang clear and true across the water, and you didn’t need a single second to think of your answer — you launched yourself into his arms, laughing and crying to the point where you couldn’t speak a word, simply overflowing with happiness and love. Bucky’s arms wrapped around you, lifting you upwards as he stood up from the weathered grey wood of the dock; as he spun you around, you saw a look of sheer joy and adoration on the face of the man you had come to know and love. Setting you down gently, his hands never strayed from your side as he smiled at you expectantly. “So’s that a yes?”
You laughed as you nodded eagerly, realizing that the word had actually never been spoken — your voice shook with tears as you answered his question. “Yes, yes, yes — yes, Bucky, god, yes —“
Somehow his smile grew even wider and brighter; the sun had slipped below the horizon, but the two of you illuminated the scene with joy as Bucky took your trembling hand into his. The ring looked so small within the expanse of his broad hands, but as he slipped it onto your ring finger, it was perfect. Everything about it was perfect. “Oh,” you sighed softly, staring at the exquisite piece that graced your hand. “Bucky, this is — this is so beautiful —“
“Yeah?” He beamed at your praise. “It’s, uh, it’s pretty special — d’you want me to tell you about it?”
You nodded, still in shock and awe as you looked on at your hand.
“The band, it’s — well, it’s vibranium. It’s the strongest thing I know, next to you. And — it’s almost like it’s a part of me, y’know?” He shrugged his shoulder, and you watched the way the metal of his arm gleamed in the light. The band was thin, delicate, but as you now knew, it was also incredibly strong. “And the diamond, th’middle one, it was my mother’s.”
You felt another hot wave of tears rushing against you, crashing like the same waves that surrounded you. The stone was beautifully cut, the emerald shape highlighting the brilliant fire that somehow burned within the stone, and knowing the significance of it only served to make it even more perfect. “How — how did you—?”
Bucky laughed, his hands still holding onto yours. “Took a lot of work to get that back to me, but that’s a story for another day.” He moved your hand slowly and softly, admiring the way the diamond caught the low light of the bulbs above. “Fits perfect.”
“How’d you pull that off?” You asked, a hint of a tease behind your genuine curiosity.
Bucky laughed, the baritone of it echoing through your chest. “I might’ve... borrowed, one of your rings for a bit.”
“Ahh, so that’s where my mother’s ring had gone,” you mused, the smile on your face feeling as though it was permanent at this point. “I thought I was losing my mind when it turned back up in my jewelry box.”
“That was me,” Bucky admitted with a look of chagrin. “It was hard to keep that from you, I saw how worried you were — but I think it was worth it in the end, don’tcha think?”
“Absolutely,” you giggled, looking down again to admire the impossibly beautiful ring; you’d get to look at it every day, you’d get to have Bucky by your side every day. “Bucky, god, I love you so much —“ Overwhelmed by a tidal wave of emotions, you anchored yourself to him before leaning in for a kiss; his hands snaked around your back as he pinned you against his broad and muscled chest, and as you kissed him with fervor you tasted something unmistakeable on his lips. You pulled away from him reluctantly, and saw that a few tears had escaped to roll down his cheeks. You swiped the last one away with the pad of your thumb, before leaning in for one more soft kiss.
The faint sound of clapping made its way to you, carried along by the warm summer breeze, and both you and Bucky turned to see what had become your family grinning and cheering from the porch. The two of you laughed, the moment overflowing with joy, and he clasped your hand securely in his as he guided you off the dock and back to the excited onlookers.
Sarah was crying unabashedly as she pulled you in for a hug, and you wrapped your arms tightly around the woman who had become your best friend, your sister. “I’ve gotta see the ring,” she said eagerly as she pulled away from your hug. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks as you extended your left hand for her to see the ring. One eyebrow shot up as a grin spread across her face. “Damn, Bucky, you did good!”
He was quickly pulled into Sarah’s arms for an embrace, and he relaxed into the contact in a way that he never would have just a few years ago. Sam clapped Bucky on the shoulder, an easy smile on his face as he turned to look at you. “You sure this is the one you want?” Sam asked with a laugh, shaking Bucky by the shoulder.
You nodded, still smiling — you hadn’t stopped and you were sure your cheeks would be aching for days to come. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
AJ and Cass ran up to Bucky as they crashed into him for a hug, and he laughed as the wind was knocked out of him. “So, if you’re Uncle Bucky, does that mean we’re gonna get an aunt now?” AJ asked curiously.
Bucky nodded, the two of you sharing a soft and happy glance.
Cass spoke up next, having a question of his own. “Can we get some cousins too?”
The adults laughed at Cass’s genuine and hopeful question. You grinned on at Bucky, thinking of the sound of small footsteps running across your home’s creaking floorboards; you mussed Cass’s hair before pulling him into a hug. “One thing at a time, alright buddy?”
***
The wedding was small, but still bigger and more important than anything you had ever done in your life. Your backyard had been decorated by Sarah, having been filled with flowers and soft, sheer fabrics — it was transformed into something simple but ethereal. The weather held out, despite the brief shower that morning, and it was a perfectly balmy and breezy day. The wedding was attended by Mrs Braxton and her children, the librarian that Bucky had befriended, and the other community members that the two of you had come to love, and who had come to love you right back. You and Sarah had prepared the food for the celebration the day before, frequently having to chase Sam and Bucky out of the kitchen as they tried to steal a taste of something. The music for the evening was played from an old stereo that occasionally crackled with static, but it was just right.
Bucky waited for you by the sparkling water in a button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and you had fixed up an ivory gown that had been found while perusing a secondhand store. Sam walked you down the aisle, staying strong and steady as your heart raced and your knees wobbled; AJ and Cass stood next to Bucky, having excitedly agreed to being groomsmen after Bucky had bribed them with a pizza. The air was warm, but the collective feeling of all the love contained here, in your backyard, was more comforting than any sunny day or roaring fire could ever hope to be. Bucky bit his lip as he watched you walk towards him, one tear slipping down his clean-shaven cheek despite his best efforts to remain cool and collected. Sarah and Sam stood next to you after you had placed your shaking hands into Bucky’s equally-excited and nervous ones, and your eyes never left one another until that long-awaited line was spoken — “Mr Barnes, you may kiss your bride.”
It was the most perfect, tender, soul-shattering kiss, and the whistles and cheers faded into the background as if it were only you and Bucky here standing against the setting sun. He was all you needed, but in this moment, as the two of you walked down the aisle hand in hand, you looked on at the scene before you and realized you didn’t have only what you needed. You had everything you wanted.
***
Or so you had thought.
Your house was filled with love, no hidden cracks or crevasses escaping the happiness that emanated from the two of you, but it still needed something.
That something came along a few years later, and you could hardly contain your excitement when you dragged Bucky to the couch before presenting him with a hastily-wrapped box. He looked confused as he stared at the item you had eagerly thrust into his hands. “Is there a holiday or something I forgot about? I’m sorry doll, I’ll make it up to you.”
You just shook your head, the excitement and butterflies rendering you silent. You watched as Bucky carefully unwrapped the box, a curious look on his face as he bit his lower lip. The lid came off, and Bucky sat there with the box in hand, completely frozen for several minutes.
Hand shaking like a leaf in a storm, he grabbed the item before turning to face you, tears running down his face in rivulets as he looked on at you with unabashed hope. “R-really?”
He held up an impossibly small onesie, the words ‘My daddy is my favorite Superhero’ printed in bright, colorful letters. You nodded, grinning as the tears rolled down your face. You were swiftly pulled into Bucky’s lap, his arms cradling you against him securely, and he couldn’t do anything but hold onto you and cry.
Shoulders heaving, he looked up at you before planting a tear-stained kiss on your forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered to you, clinging to you tightly. “Thank you,” he sighed, but this one wasn’t for you — this was for the universe and the kindness it had extended, kindness he never imagined he could deserve.
***
The delivery was interesting, to say the least. Bucky had run through the house like a madman, coming to screeching halts and occasionally crashing into something as he tried to gather the hospital bags and anything else he thought you might need. He was an absolute terror on the road, but you knew that any police officer so bold as to try and stop him would simply walk away upon seeing the erratic and nervous look on Bucky’s face.
He somehow managed to calm down when you made it into the hospital bed; Bucky was here for you, he loved you, and was going to do absolutely anything that you asked of him. He never complained or winced when you gripped his hand so tightly that you thought you might pop a tendon; and he never left your side, whispering sweet words of love and encouragement through every tough moment.
And finally, after one more push, the room was filled with the piercing and beautiful cries that the two of you had been waiting to hear for months. Bucky looked on at you in absolute shock and wonder, as the doctor brought the baby to rest upon your chest.
“Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Barnes. It’s a girl.”
The two of you had decided to wait, knowing that the only thing that mattered was that your child made it earthbound safely.
“She has your eyes, Buck,” you whispered, as her tiny fist wrapped around your pinky finger. Bucky was silent and crying, unable to do anything else. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hands moved from the edge of the bed up to where your daughter was resting against your shoulder. As he got closer, he pulled back a bit, before regaining his courage and moving forward again. “D’you want to hold her?”
His eyes flashed with fear and trepidation; how could he hold something so sweet and so small and so new? How could he have made anything so innocent and perfect?
You shifted up in the bed, before grabbing Bucky’s hand and guiding it towards you. You eased the small bundle into his arms, and watched as his eyes grew impossibly large, like a deer in the headlights. You could see the emotions swirling within him as he brought her closer to his face, his finger coming up to gently stroke his daughter’s soft cheek. “Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice cracking. “It’s — well, you don’t know me yet, but I’m your daddy. I love you so much, and I’m s-so lucky to have you and your mom. I can’t wait for you to see how amazing she is...”
He eventually moved to sit in the armchair next to your bed, and you drifted off to sleep as Bucky continued his one-sided conversation with his daughter. She was quick to follow you to sleep, and the poor nurse who offered to take her so Bucky could rest as well was subjected to a look that would shake anyone to their core. Your daughter slept on his chest that night, his head drooping against his shoulder as he held her close, and he only let her go when you were awake and asking for her.
The drive home was incredibly cautious, quite unlike the drive to the hospital, and as you stepped through the front door of your home, you smiled at the sight of Bucky managing multiple duffle bags, a baby carrier, and your McDonalds bag. He placed all of the items down gently, not wanting to wake the baby; he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you and your daughter into his chest. Sighing contentedly, he kissed the top of your head.
“It’s a good life, Bucky Barnes.”
You could feel the smile on his face as he kissed you once more. “It is now. I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you too, Buck.”