Miss Bucky Barns

Yours and Bucky’s mom not being around for Mother’s Day isn’t easy for either of you. Bucky knew Mother’s Day weekend was coming up, but you didn’t. You didn’t know that Mother’s Day was that Sunday until your preschool teacher said something about it at preschool today. It only reminded you that you don’t have a mom. While your friends were making homemade Mother’s Day cards for their moms, you just drew little doodles on a blank piece of paper. You drew a stick figure of what your life was like before HYDRA got their hands on you.

“Are you going to make your mommy a card for Mother’s Day?” One of your friends asks.

“I can’t.” You say.

“What not?” Another one of your friends asks.

“I don’t have a mommy. She died a long time ago.” You say.

“Oh.” Your friends say.

For the rest of the day at preschool, you distanced yourself from your friends. You didn’t mean it as a rude gesture. You only did it, because hearing what your friends are going to do with their moms on Mother’s Day made you sad. Your teacher noticed it too and walked over to you to check on you.

“Why aren’t you hanging out with your friends?” Your teacher asks.

“They keep talking about the fun things they’re doing with their mommies for Mother’s Day.” You say.

“You’re not going to tell them the fun things you’re going to do with your mommy on Mother’s Day?” She asks.

“I wish I could.” You say.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“I don’t have a mommy. She died a long time ago.” You say.

“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that.” She gives her condolences.

It upset you that you had to say that a second time today. Saying it makes it even more real than it already was. Your teacher made a mental note to herself as a reminder to talk to Bucky when he picks you up today.

At the same end of the school day, you didn’t run over to your brother like you always do when he picks you up from preschool. Today, he walked over to you when he picked you up. That’s when your teacher approaches him to talk to him about you distancing yourself from your friends and what you said about not having a mom.

“I would like to talk to you Y/N.” Your teacher says.

“Did she do something to get in trouble?” Bucky asks.

“No. It’s the complete opposite.” She says.

“What happened?” He asks.

“Today, the kids were making homemade cards for their mom’s for Mother’s Day. I noticed her distancing herself from her friends when they were making their mom’s cards and I asked her why she wasn’t making cards with her friends and she said something about not having a mom.” She tells him.

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll talk to her when we get home.” He says.

On the way home, you didn’t say one word. You just looked out the window silently. You’re never quiet. You always tell him about your day, but today you didn’t know. He heard what your teacher said. He just wants to give you a chance to say something. If you don’t, then he’ll bring it up.

“Y/N, can I talk to you for a moment?” Bucky asks when you two got home.

You still didn’t say a word. You just went to the living room and sat down on the couch, wondering what he wants to talk to you about.

“Your teacher talked to me today. I heard what she said. I just want to give you a chance to tell me.” He says softly.

All you did was shrug your shoulders.

“I need a better answer than a shoulder shrug, kiddo.” He says.

You didn’t say anything. You gave him another shoulder shrug.

“I need you to talk to me so I can help you.” He says softly.

That’s when your eyes teared up and your bottom lip quivered. You crawled onto Bucky’s lap and started crying. Bucky wraps his arms around you, holding you as you cried.

“I miss mommy.” You finally say.

“I do too, doll.” Bucky says softly.

“I hate not having a mommy.” You say.

“So do I.” He says.

You cried and cried. Bucky wishes that he could do something to take the pain away for you.

“I just want to celebrate Mother’s Day like the other kids.” You say.

That’s when Bucky came up with an idea.

“Even though mom is no longer here, we can still celebrate Mother’s Day.” Bucky says.

“How?” You asked.

“We can buy flowers and take them to the cemetery to put on mom’s grave and I can show you pictures of her. How’s that sound?” He suggests.

“I like that.” You say and smiled.

“Me too.” He smiles.

When Mother’s Day came, you and Bucky bought yours and his mom’s favorite flowers and then went to the cemetery. He lead you to yours and his parents headstone. He let you place the flowers on the grave.

“Now what?” You asked, looking up at your brother.

“You can say something if you want.” Bucky says softly.

“I can?” You asked.

Bucky smiles and nods. You sat down in the grass in front of the headstone and started talking to it like yours and his mom was there. Bucky thought it was cute. You guys stayed there for a while before going home. Bucky searched for the photo albums so he can show you pictures of yours and his mom.

“What’s that?” You asked, referring to the photo albums.

“It’s photo albums. There’s pictures of us, Rebecca, mom, and dad in them.” Bucky tells you.

Bucky sat down on the couch and patted the spot on the couch next to him. You got on the couch and sat down next to him. The photo album he started with was your baby book.

“That’s mommy?” You asked.

“Yes.” Bucky says.

“Who’s the baby she’s holding?” You asked, pointing at the baby in the picture.

“That’s you, kiddo.” He says.

“It is?” You asked.

“Yes.” He says.

“I was tiny.” You say.

“You were. You also looked like mom. I used to call you mom’s mini twin.” He says.

“Really?” You asked.

Bucky nods and smiles. He saw you smile at every picture you looked at.

“I miss mommy.” You say.

“I do to. You know what? Mom would want us to be happy.” Bucky says.

“How can we be happy if she’s not here anymore?” You asked.

“She will always be in our hearts and memories.” He says softly.

“She will?” You asked.

“Yes.” He says.

You smiled and hugged your brother.

“I love you, bubba.” You say.

“I love you too, kiddo.” He says softly.

Every year going forward, you and Bucky made it a tradition on Mother’s Day to go to the cemetery to put flowers on yours and his mom’s grave and look at pictures of her.

You and Bucky always make a grocery list a couple days before you two go shopping. He tells you what to write down. He always goes over the list to make sure you wrote everything down before you two leave the apartment.

“Put your shoes on. We’re going to the store.” Bucky says.

“Ok.” You say.

You love going shopping with your brother. You think it’s fun. Sometimes you try to sneak stuff that’s not on the list into the cart, but he always catches you.

“Do you know the rules?” Bucky asks as you two walk inside of the store.

“Stay with you and be good.” You say.

“That’s right.” He says, playfully ruffling your hair.

Most of the time, you sit in the cart as you two grocery shop, but this time, you didn’t. You walked next to Bucky and helped him put groceries into the cart. You found something you wanted and attempted to sneak it into the cart.

“Put it back.” Bucky says.

“You weren’t even looking! How did you know I want trying to put something in the cart?” You say.

“I know all of your tricks, kid.” He says.

It’s true. Bucky always knows what you’re up to. It’s like his superpower. You playfully narrowed your eyes at your brother before putting the item you attempted to put in the cart.

“You can get the cereal you’ve been talking about all week.” Bucky says.

“Really?” You asked.

“Yes.” He says.

Bucky followed you as you excitedly went to the cereal aisle. You found the cereal you’ve been talking about all week, but you also saw another cereal you really like.

“Can I get both please?” You asked.

Before Bucky could say yes or no, you gave him puppy dog eyes. You didn’t need to give him that face for him to say yes. He was going to tell you to pick one or the other, but he ended up giving into your puppy dog eyes.

“You can get both.” Bucky says.

You grabbed both cereals and put them in the cart. Then you two went to the snack aisle.

“You need snacks for preschool.” He says.

You got your two favorite snacks and put them in the cart. Bucky crossed everything off the list, except for the fruits you two want to get. While Bucky got some plums, you got the fruit you wanted.

“Looks like we got everything, but it can hurt to double check, right?” Bucky says.

“Right.” You agreed.

While back was double checking the list to make sure you got everything, you saw something interesting across from the fruit section. You knew better to walk away from your brother when you two are in public, but you wandered off anyway.

“We got everything, kiddo. Let’s checkout and go home.” Bucky says.

Bucky frowns in confusion when you didn’t respond. He looks down to see that you’re no longer next to him. His eyes went wide and his heart dropped.

“Y/N?” Bucky calls out for you, thinking that you were looking at the other fruits in the fruit section.

Bucky began to panic when you didn’t respond again. That’s when he realized that you wandered off.

“Shit.” Bucky mutters frantically.

As he was looking for you, you turned around to go back to the fruit section where Bucky is. Or where he was a few seconds ago. You walked over to the area of the fruit section where he just was and looked around for him.

“Bucky?” You say.

You kept looking around for him in the same area for another few seconds before panicking. You were beginning to think that he left you at the store. Bucky would never do that, but that didn’t stop your eyes from tearing up.

“Bucky?” You say again.

You whimpered softly before you started crying. Meanwhile, Bucky was going from aisle to aisle looking for you. People were giving him weird looks from the way he looked while he was looking for you. He didn’t care. All he cares about if you’re ok. His mind wandered to the thought of someone kidnapping you. Not just someone, HYDRA, but why would they take you from him while you’re standing next to him. That thought began to fade away when he heard the sound of a little kid crying. He stops walking and tries to locate the sound of the cry. As he was doing so, he quickly recognized the cry. It’s your cry. He follows the sound of you crying and found you standing in the fruit section crying.

“Oh, thank god.” Bucky says in relief.

Bucky walks over to you and crouches down in front of you. You immediately wrapped your arms around him before he could hug you. Your crying was muffled against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to walk away from you. I saw something cool and I wanted to get a closer look at it. Please don’t be mad at me!” You apologized profusely.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” Bucky says.

You sniffled and lifted your head up to look at him.

“I am not mad at you. I just got scared when I didn’t see you next to me. I thought someone kidnapped you. That’s why I tell you to stay next to me everywhere we go.” He says softly.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized again.

“It’s ok. Just don’t do it again. Ok?” He says.

“Ok.” You say.

Bucky gives you another hug and then wipes your tears away.

“How about we stop at that toy store you like on the way home?” Bucky suggests.

“Really?” You asked.

“Yes.” He smiles.

You smiled and gave him a hug. You two paid for the groceries and then went to the toy store you like. You got a stuffed animal and legos.

“I’m sorry for walking away from you.” You apologized once more as you two entered yours and his apartment.

“It’s ok, kiddo.” Bucky says.

“I love you.” You say, hugging his leg.

“I love you too, doll.” He says, playfully ruffling your hair.

You helped Bucky put the groceries away and then you two watched cartoons in the living room. You were cuddled next to him. You learned a lesson today and that’s to not walk away from your brother or any adult you’re with when you’re out in public.

you told them you’d be fine.

and you were. at least, up until a certain point. you’d woken up teetering on the edge of smallness, teetering, but steve and bucky had important debriefs throughout the morning and you’d already asked them to stay home with you on tuesday last week. you were always mindful of that line between allowing yourself to be cared for and expecting too much entirely.

so steve kissed the top of your head (which didn’t make you feel 10x smaller, nope, no way) and bucky made a smiley face in blueberries on top of your waffles, and then they were gone with promises to be back before dinner. the apartment instantly feels larger, emptier, more full of potential for bad things to happen.

but you aren’t supposed to think that way. you close your eyes for a moment, grounding yourself, trying to hear bucky’s voice in your head saying, “easy, sweetheart, it’s just a thought. nothing more than a thought.”

he knows those words to be true more than anyone, maybe, but it doesn’t make your own thoughts quiet down any easier. your waffles with powdered sugar and berries suddenly feel like too much work to eat. what if you choke? what if there’s a bug in one of the berries? what if your cup of milk is spoiled? you grab your glass, barely managing not to slosh it, and give it a cautionary sniff. smells like milk. but maybe it wouldn’t smell off yet even if it is expired. you probably shouldn’t take that risk, right?

your milk goes down the sink drain and your waffles stay on the counter, blueberry smiley face leering at you as if to taunt your rumbling tummy. you try not to look it in the eyes and pad over to the living room, where your blankie is in a heap on the couch.

“need helpers,” you mumble to yourself as you kneel down next to the couch, where a large basket full of maybe 30% of your total stuffed animals sits invitingly. you dig through the plushies, inspecting each one for pure vibes before deciding on a dangerous combination of a stuffed shark, a bumblebee pillow pet, and a tattered teddy bear that’s missing an eye and may have actually come from steve’s house back in the 1940s. you give it a squeeze for good measure and set it on the sofa alongside the others.

you stand in front of your audience, spine straight and tall, trying to seem much older than you feel. “okay. teddy, bee, sharky, it’s time t’ take action.”

they stare back at you, entranced by your obvious leadership and charisma. the thought gives you more confidence, and you tilt your chin up a little higher. “uh-huh, ‘s time now,” you confirm to their unasked questions. “daddy ‘n dada won’t be back ‘til laters, so we gotta protect the castle from the scary people.”

the “scary people” are vague in your head, really more shadowed figures than anything, but the thought still sends a shiver down your spine. you quickly grab the stuffed bear, imagining how it probably protected steve all those decades ago, and squeeze it tight. “wish they didn’t haft’a leave me,” you whisper into the teddy’s fur, closing your eyes before they can sting. “not s’posed to be this little.”

and it’s true. you’d agreed with them before, more than once, that regressing alone is always a reason to call them, even if they’re busy. if they aren’t available, well, you have about ten more avengers you can call for help before you ever have to handle something alone. but that doesn’t exactly translate in your little brain right now, not when you’re still technically fine. you’re pretty sure you can use the stove, which definitely doesn’t fall under the category of skills you have when you’re little.

suddenly determined, you march back into the kitchen and glare at the stove in all its fancy buttons and empty burners. in fact, wouldn’t it be more adult not to use the stove, somehow? you’re being extra careful, and a baby wouldn’t think to be extra careful, right? your hands shoot out to jiggle the knobs for the burners, making sure they’re turned off completely even though you’d already seen bucky switch off the stove that morning. it won’t hurt to check, right?

at least, that’s what you tell yourself for the next couple minutes while you tap the knobs every few seconds, making sure flames aren’t going to shoot up out of the burners without you know about it. it’s an extra adult thing to do, even, because little kids aren’t even allowed to touch the stove, but here you are, making the grown-up decision not to use it. steve would be proud.

and it might’ve been fine, if it had only been the stove.

it never is just the stove with your brain.

as the day goes on, your regression only plants itself deeper inside your head, mixing unpleasantly by this spike of compulsive checking and rechecking and checking again. by the time lunch rolls around, your tummy is protestingly angrily and you’re still looking longingly at the waffles on the counter every few minutes between checking the locks on the windows. they’d probably be cold and stale by now, and your brain itches when you think about it, but you can’t ignore your tummy growling forever. surely there must be something safe in the kitchen that doesn’t require cooking.

that’s what you think, anyways, until you open the fridge and see a million accidents waiting to happen. jars of fruit preserves become smashed glass and chunks of strawberry beneath your feet. apples become knives slipping and choking on the skin. lunch meat becomes dangerously close to the expiration date despite it being over a month away. you shut the fridge door so fast that the condiments rattle together.

the freezer is the same story, along with the pantry and the fruit bowl. every bite of food is another potential hazard, more trouble just waiting to happen. you’re already sort of hiding your regression, which is probably a big no-no, so you’d better try harder not to cause any issues. they’re probably going to be mad when they find out.

the thought makes your stomach drop so hard you feel slightly nauseous. you ease down into a chair, doubling over to hold your tummy and focus on not feeling worse. eating the waffles probably would’ve prevented this, but you’re still not sure if it would’ve been worth the risk. risk of what, again? you don’t completely remember, but it doesn’t matter, because you need to get something in your mouth before nausea turns to shakiness turns to scary-bad-don’t-want-it.

“don’t want dada t’ be mad,” you whisper to your teddy, still faithfully accompanying you to each room in the apartment. you’re sitting curled up on the floor with your back against the washing machine now, wishing there was fresh, warm laundry to lay on top of. you dance the bear in your lap, imagining him saying, he won’t be mad, he really won’t, you’ve tried so hard to be good.

“not tried hard enough,” you whisper out loud, the words tugging your mouth into a wobbly frown. your tummy is hurting and you haven’t felt like an adult at all today and you’re pretty sure you need a nap, but all of that jumbles together in your head as just feeling plain icky.

wiping away tears you won’t admit are falling, you force yourself to stand on wobbly legs and head towards the living room again. it’s still in disarray from when you and teddy secured the grounds (built a pillow fort), but the pile of cushions in the middle of the floor are the perfect place for you to settle. your tummy still twists uncomfortably, but you can ignore it in favor of how comfy you are and how nice it’ll be when you wake up and daddy’s almost home. either of them. both of them, ideally. you imagine that your teddy bear is keeping watch for you, taking his guard shift while you sleep, and you doze off still smiling into the pillows at the thought.

when you wake again, it’s to the doorknob twisting and keys jangling and boots on the hardwood. “we’re home, sweetheart,” comes that familiar baritone, and steve sticks his head around the corner just for you to lock eyes with him. he takes one look at your sleepy face, at the mess of pillows and blankets everywhere, at the teddy bear still held tight to your chest, and his whole body softens.

“well, hi there,” he greets warmly, crouching down in front of your little nest so he’s closer to your level. you blink sleepily back at him, half still asleep and half stunned he’s home already.

“get into any trouble while we were gone?” comes another voice from the doorway, gravelly but full of amusement as bucky looks around at the living room. “or was this room always meant to be a giant nap tent?”

“dada,” you breathe in disbelief, finally getting a word out, and your arms reach towards whoever gets to you first. it’s steve, of course, and he scoops you into his arms like you’re as little as you feel.

“thought we’d come home and check on our baby,” he hums as he sways with you in his arms, pressing kisses to the side of your head like he’d missed you just as much. “have you eaten anything, sweetheart?”

you shake your head shamelessly, so far gone in your comfiest mental space that you can’t pretend anymore. “wasn’t s’posed to use the stove, daddy,” you remind him like he forgot, earning a quiet laugh from bucky.

“good job, baby,” he hums, ruffling your hair over steve’s shoulder. you sigh in content and tuck your face away again, letting them take over entirely as your nap-muddled brain stays firmly around preschool age. and what you don’t see is the delivered texts you’d managed to type half-aware during your fort-building, coherent enough to send both men right home to their baby:

miss u dada

lov daddy somuch

can we has pizza fo r dinne

need u. sleep.y now

(first born, idk why I just decided yeah I know Harley probably should be first but this is how it is in my head)

Peter calls Bucky Papa, Steve Da (or Da's) and Tony Mom as a baby and Daddy when he gets a bit bigger.

Peter had them stumped the first couple years but by the time he's 10 and gives sassy looks all his dad's know he's Tony and Buckys. His face is a near perfect blend of them both (I'm imagining Tony's eyes and eyebrows and Buckys jaw and mouth.)

Because of this Steve overcompensated with spoiling Peter because he wanted his son to know he loved him so much for being both of his partners and that he considers him his own anyways.

If anybody ever brings it up Peter just rolls his eyes and says how he loves his Dad because Peter grows up incredibly secure in their relationship with the love he receives from all three of them, the idea Steve isn't 'really' his son never crosses his mind.

Also because Peter personality wise IS the most like Steve and really admires his dad for the kind hearted thoughtful person that he is, but can also see the more intimate parts he hides from most the world (and even his younger children, a little. Harley and Morgan definitely see him as being a superhero and their perfect Dad while Peter has been there for him on his darkest days.)

there's something about the deep longing ache behind Steves eyes that never leaves despite getting his happy ending that Peter can almost instinctually understand in a way even Tony and Bucky can't or actively shun at times.

(Tony feels guilty knowing Steve still feels out of time despite his best efforts even though Steve knows it's not his fault and reassures him of this, it still hurts him.

Bucky can't even imagine going back to the 40s because of what he's been through. Steve understands this as well so neither of his partners can sympathize with him in this regard making him feel lonely at times.)

Peter is the only child born with powers and his rival Steve's. Bucky trains him regularly in everything but using his enhanced abilities because he's still terrified of himself, after all these years.

In his worst nightmares he hurts Peter and entirely refuses to use his strength near him ESPECIALLY when he was a baby. He refused to sleep in the same room as baby Peter. For years Peter didn't even fully understand Bucky was enhanced like Steve aside from on TV because he never saw it in person.

Steve knows what it's like to feel like a freak and helps Peter through his awkward phase the most. Peter loves him because of that. Harley is secretly jealous of the bond they have because of it.

Aside from powers Bucky trains Peter on how to do everything in life. His homework? He's there, despite Tony being way more helpful because he never really payed attention in school before dropping out, but he's gonna find out what algebra means alongside Peter for the first time damnit.

Fishing and hunting? Yup. Even though they live in New York and the only thing Bucky has ever been trained to hunt was people, he's going to figure out how to do it Incase Peter needs to know.

Same with Technology (which Tony is also better at and in the end ends up teaching the both of them at the same time) and sewing clothes and identifying plants and shooting guns despite Steve protesting that they're too violent. Incase. Incase. Incase.

He teaches Peter how to blend in with crowds and in camouflage. Incase. He makes him join Steve on his morning runs everyday. Incase. He teaches Peter how to drive at 10, incase. Of where to hide a bag in their house full of clothing and a flashlight and food and a first aid kit. Incase. Tony knows about it. Tony doesn't acknowledge it. Incase.

Because all three of them know, deep down, despite the therapy and the reassurances from his loving husbands and the finest technology money can buy installed in their house that Buckys deepest, darkest fear is that of their three children HYDRA would kidnap Peter.

Steve tries to ignore it like Tony does, but every time he teaches his son self defense it's in the back of his mind. Every morning on their jog. Peter is the child most like him he knows. Idealistic. Unmoored.

He's as innocent as Steve was the first time he picked up a rifle. He just didn't like bullies. Tiny Steve had no idea what was to come. How Buckys cold hand would feel as it slipped out of his. The things they did during the war. The way it sat in his bones after.

Peter being kidnapped by HYDRA wasn't just Buckys worst fear. It was the worst reality any of them could think of. Peter gone for even a few days would crush the joy out of his soul, like a beautiful glass ornament being shattered into dust.

Tony built things. He built Peter a suit. He helped his son make his web shooters and smiled the whole time, altering them for optimization, they tried different chemical combinations for his webs together.

Tony thought if Peter became a hero his chances were best. So he let his husbands and Clint and Nat train him from a young age despite how the idea of Peter in danger physically hurt his chest. It was incredibly ironic how throwing his kid at alien invasions was somehow the best way to keep him safe. Steve hated it. Tony never said aloud just how much he hated it.

How it burned his blood. How Tony wanted to lock Peter in his basement before HYDRA could do it first. He knew that was his worst fears talking. That Bucky and Steve would never let it happen. He still hugged Peter for a little long, though. That was his Baby.

Peter always knew Tony was kind of a workaholic. He didn't know his Dad's restlessness was caused by him. Steve wanted to make the world a better place for his kids. Tony wanted to make the world safe for them, everyday. Peter stood while Steve gives speeches and laughs at the parts he found cheesey afterwords. And when Tony couldn't sleep for days he'd beg him to watch Star wars just to get him to fall asleep on the couch with him.