Chapter Text
It’s quiet when Bucky gets home. He kicks off his shoes, scrubbing one foot over the warm hardwood, and turns to the library, where he can just hear the low murmur of Steve’s voice.
It hits hard, indescribable, and Bucky should have been prepared; he’d known that Steve had volunteered them to babysit Tony and Pepper’s newborn overnight while they attend some gala or other.
Still, seeing them there, Adrienne perched in Steve’s lap, his arms around her supporting the weight of the baby while she holds a bottle up—
Oh, it makes Bucky weak at the knees.
He’s on his way over when Steve looks up and smiles, and it’s breathtaking how badly Bucky wishes, suddenly, that that was their baby.
Ada looks up too and grins really big. “Look at how little he is, Tateh!” she says. Bucky steps onto the padded carpet of the library and kneels, shuffling the rest of the way to the couch. Slipping one hand between Steve’s lower back and the sofa, he presses his other palm to the back of Steve’s hand supporting Ada’s smaller hand cupping the back of Morgan’s head.
He’s pretty cute, even though he’s Tony’s kid: big luminous brown eyes and a wisp of strawberry blond hair, his tiny chubby fingers gripping Adrienne’s pinkie where she’s holding the bottle. He blinks at Bucky.
“Wow, baby, yeah,” Bucky replies. He glances over Ada’s shoulder to where Steve has his mouth pressed against the crown of her head, looking down at the baby. “When did Tony drop him off?”
“Half an hour ago, is all,” Steve tells him, not looking up. “He apologized for not having fed him before they came, but—he was already all dappered up. I think they were heading straight from here to the gala.”
For a second Bucky just looks at Steve. He’s not sure Steve’s ever dealt with a kid this young. “You want me to take over here?” he asks. “I can, if you’d rather get dinner started.”
Steve glances at him and then away again. “No, it’s okay,” he says. “I mean. Unless you want me to.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
“I kind of half-started dinner anyway,” Steve tells him. “I was slicing vegetables when Tony showed up. Can you…?”
“I’ll go finish up.” Getting to his feet, Bucky leans down and kisses both Ada and Steve on the tops of their heads. “Call me, okay, if you need anything.”
Steve hums absently, and Bucky goes, glancing back once. Although he knows that Steve’s capable of handling the baby, Bucky finds he doesn’t want to stop looking at them.
He’s happy, here, with Steve and Adrienne—deliriously so, as Barton has pointed out on multiple occasions. It’s never really crossed his mind, the idea of having more kids—not because he doesn’t want any, but because it just hadn’t ever occurred to him as an option.
Swallowing, he picks up the knife that Steve had left and starts on the broccoli, remembering what Ada had been like as a baby. He’d been on his own, Sophie on her way to her post doc in Hong Kong. Most days he’d taken Ada to work with him; his lab had been big and empty and her baby-talk had filled a lot of space until Tony had approved his first job posting for an RA.
She’d had these huge starry eyes framed in a sweep of dark eyelashes; she’d laughed easily and although she didn’t seem to mind other people, she never seemed as comfortable as when he was holding her.
But it had been hard, finding the right balance. He’d kept her in his lab with him up until she’d been old enough to go downstairs to the Stark Industries daycare program, and that had worked up until the day she started kindergarten. It had only taken him a month or so to figure out he’d needed a nanny, which is where Steve had come in.
Dating and other—date-related activities—had taken a serious backseat, between work and Adrienne, and the idea of making their family any bigger really hadn’t occurred to him.
Now, though, seeing Steve with Morgan—the idea is there. If Steve’s uncomfortable with babies, maybe—maybe they could adopt an older kid?
Bucky dumps a pile of cut broccoli into the pan Steve must have set out and sighs, trying to think of something else to think about. They’re a ways off from that reality, and Steve had looked positively glum in there.
With Adrienne’s help, they put the baby to bed around eight. Once Bucky’s lowered Morgan into the little travel crib Tony and Pepper had provided, she folds into a cross-legged seat on the floor and stares through the mesh fabric at him. Bucky turns on the baby monitor and sets it down on his own bedside table, passing its mate to Steve.
“Try not to wake him, okay, sweet?” Bucky murmurs, giving the top of Adrienne’s ear a little stroke with the tip of one finger as he passes her. She nods, and he and Steve tiptoe out, pulling the door most of the way shut behind them.
“Glass of wine?” Steve asks, and when Bucky agrees, he leads the way to the kitchen, putting the baby monitor on the counter and cranking up the volume. While Steve opens the fridge for the half a bottle they’d started last night, Bucky pulls out two glasses; once they’ve both got a glass they retire to the couch, moving the baby monitor from the counter to the coffee table.
Feet up in Bucky’s lap, Steve takes a long sip of wine, not exactly looking at Bucky, but not quite looking away, either. Bucky rubs a thumb over the arch of Steve’s socked foot. “He’s cute, huh?” Bucky asks.
A plaintive sound crackles over the baby monitor, and they both sit up a little, Bucky looping an arm around Steve’s ankles. But after a second it becomes clear that it’s just Adrienne, singing softly, and they both settle back into the couch. Steve takes another sip of his wine and stares down into it, tipping the glass one way and then the other. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, he’s cute.”
Bucky looks at him, waiting for him to look back; but now Steve is either definitely avoiding eye contact, or seeing something intensely interesting in his wine glass. He must have seen something in Bucky’s body language, something that makes him uncomfortable. Maybe Bucky wasn’t being subtle, staring at Steve as he changed Morgan into his pajamas, bouncing him around the living room until he’d gone to sleep.
Resting his head on the couch back and sighing, Bucky takes refuge in the purply-red depths of his own wine. It should be weird to think about—he and Steve, growing their family; it’s big shit—but it isn’t. He’s—Steve started out as Ada’s nanny, for shit’s sake—he’s good with kids. He’s a great mommy for Ada. It—it just makes sense, and god but Bucky loves him. Rolling a sip of wine around on his tongue, Bucky rubs the leg of Steve’s pants between his fingers.
“What was Ada like?” Steve asks, suddenly. “When she was—you know, when she was a baby.”
Without looking up Bucky rubs the tip of a finger along the rim of his glass. “I don’t think I slept for, like, six months,” he says.
“She didn’t sleep, huh?”
“No, she did.” When Bucky lifts his gaze, Steve is looking at him, finally. “She did. I just—I spent a lot of time watching her while she did.” He laughs a little, and so does Steve, his eyes soft. “I took her to work with me every day. I was pretty new at StarkSpace, so for a while it was just her and me, in my lab.”
Steve’s eyes go distant. “That big space?” he asks, wrinkling his nose. “Just the two of you?”
“She was pretty chatty.” Bucky leans his head back again. “Tony used to—I got in this habit, right, of putting her in a sling and carrying her around with me while I was building stuff, or whatever. But I would kind of—sway—” he makes a motion with his hand, waving it slowly this way and then that, like he’s conducting an orchestra in a slow waltz—“I’d sway while I was holding her. And I’d do it even when I wasn’t carrying her. Tony used to have to physically stop me from doing it. He said it made him nauseous.”
Steve grins into his glass. “God,” he mumbles, and then says something else, low enough Bucky doesn’t quite hear it.
“Hm?” he asks, but Steve just waves a hand. Bucky catches it and kisses his knuckles before letting go. “Ada…was such a sweet baby. Everyone said so. But I think you’re the first person she liked as much as she liked me.”
A blush pinks Steve’s cheeks. He shrugs a shoulder self-consciously, and seems about to speak when the baby monitor goes from singing You Are My Sunshine to the unmistakable wails of a newborn.
Immediately, Steve sits up, reaching out one long arm to put his wine on the coffee table, but Bucky seizes his ankles. “I’ll go,” he says. “You relax.”
Steve settles back, pulling his legs off Bucky’s lap. Depositing his wine, Bucky gets up and starts toward the bedroom, stopping only when Steve grabs his wrist and pulls him down so he can kiss him.
Bucky rubs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you just relax,” he repeats, and goes to collect the baby.
Steve, unfortunately, is a lighter sleeper than Bucky, so he’s already climbing out of bed when Bucky actually wakes. Morgan’s only just starting to cry. “Mnuh?” Bucky asks, flailing around a bit as he tries to check the clock and finds himself trapped in the sheets. It’s just after one o’clock.
Pushing himself up, he looks around; Steve leans over the bed and presses a hand flat to Bucky’s chest. “I got him,” he murmurs into the dark. “Go back to sleep. You can get the next one.”
Clumsily, Bucky pats at Steve’s hand and sinks back down to the mattress, smacking his lips. “Okay,” he mumbles, “okay, sweetheart.”
He doesn’t quite go back to sleep, even though Steve collects Morgan and leaves the room altogether, swinging the door most of the way shut behind him. He drifts, but rouses again when Steve sneaks back in half an hour later and puts Morgan back into his crib. When Steve climbs back into bed, Bucky rolls over and crowds up against his side. Sleep pulls him in, but before it takes him entirely, he remembers to pull Steve’s arm close around him too.
Steve’s quiet when the alarm goes off the next morning. Somehow it had been him up with Morgan each time he cried, not Bucky, so Bucky takes the morning shift, getting Ada ready for school and zipping Morgan into his Louis Vuitton baby coat. He takes Morgan along when he walks Adrienne to school, not wanting him to keep Steve awake.
Ada gasps as they round the corner onto the block where the school is. “Mr. O!” she yells, waving with one hand, the other tugging at Bucky’s.
Thor, on crossing duty, looks up and waves to them. “Can we bring Morgan to meet Mr. O, Tateh?” Adrienne begs, skipping along at Bucky’s side, “I want him to meet Morgan.”
“Yeah, okay,” Bucky agrees, letting her pull him that direction.
Thor catches Adrienne before she accidentally careens into the street, picking her up and swinging her around while she cackles. “You’re getting so big, Adie!” he announces as he puts her back down. “That’s why I’m not teaching you anymore. You’re too big for me!”
Dragging him by the hand, she points at Morgan in Bucky’s arms. “Mr. O, this is Morgan. He’s Uncle Tony’s baby,” she tells him. “Isn’t he so cute?”
Thor leans over Bucky’s shoulder and tickles at Morgan’s chin. “Very cute,” he agrees, and steps back so he can look at Bucky. “You’re working today? I can take Adie into school. You should get that one home out of the cold.”
Bucky kisses his daughter goodbye, even though she’s barely paying attention, too busy yammering at Thor about their Hannukah and swinging from his hand like a pendulum. Then he heads home, already inventorying all the stuff he’ll have to collect to bring Morgan back to Tony and Pepper.
Steve’s not asleep when he gets back. Instead he’s lying in bed, curled around a pillow, staring at the crib. When Bucky comes in, still carrying Morgan, he jerks and looks up. “Hey,” Bucky says, coming over for a kiss. “You been up long?”
Steve shrugs a shoulder. “Not really,” he replies.
For a second Bucky examines him, but his face is completely blank. “Can you keep an eye on Morgan?” he asks. “Just while I shower. I’m supposed to meet Tony at nine at the office, kid in tow.”
Steve sits up and takes Morgan from Bucky. “I’ll get him ready to go.”
Tony’s working on some sort of motorized stroller when Bucky shows up, crib folded up and strapped to his back, Morgan in the sling on his chest, dragging the suitcase full of diapers and toys and other shit that had come with him.
As soon as Tony sees him coming he tosses his screwdriver over his shoulder and practically bounds over, already reaching out for his son. “Hey, buddy,” he murmurs, reaching into Bucky’s sling and lifting the sleeping baby out of it. “Hey, hey. Guess who missed you last night.” Bucky starts divesting himself of the items he’s still carrying, finally taking the sling off and hanging it on one of the chairs nearby. Tony settles Morgan against his shoulder and jerks his head at Bucky. “How’d he do last night? When do you guys want to take him again? Pepper and I have this holiday party next week—I was thinking—” he trails off when Bucky shakes his head frantically. “No?”
“Don’t ask Steve, okay,” Bucky tells him. “He’s—I don’t think he—I’m not sure he’s really—into—babies.”
Tony stares at him for a long second, rubbing Morgan’s back. “Is—uh, is everything okay, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal?”
Bucky hesitates for a second; he doesn’t want to air all his and Steve’s dirty laundry, but it’s not like he can talk to Steve about it, not right now. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s asking for something that Steve feels he can’t say no to. “He just—was acting weird. I think maybe he—isn’t really a big fan of babies.”
Tony pulls out his phone and taps around for a second, then passes it over. It’s his message chain with Steve:
SR: Bucky’s on his way over with Morgan. He’s SOOOO cute!! Let us know when we can have him for another night. :)
Bucky stares at the message so long that the phone goes dark in his hand. He passes it back to Tony. “That’s nice of him,” he manages to say, not looking at Tony or at Morgan’s pudgy little baby face, squished up against his dad’s neck. “I—we’d be happy to take him. Whenever. Yeah. Uh. Yeah. Let us know.”