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Bucky wakes up with two minutes to spare. Two minutes before his two, with one still under two, come and join him and Steve under their blankets in their soft downy sheets. Tick tock it goes- the clock on his wall, its attuned to the rhythm of the gentle gait that Bucky has come to love so dearly that pads across the soft fluffy carpet, door creaking slightly and a mumbled papa- daddy. Whoever she wants first in that moment.
Six thirty. And it starts, that precious little thump-thump of their daughter walking as she makes her way to her parents bedroom. Bucky holds a breath as he watches the door being opened so softly and a tiny body, only three years old, make its way inside.
"Morning, papa." She mumbles sleepily, quietly.
"Morning, my precious darling." He greets back, opening his arms out for their daughter, helping her up on the bed and into the sweet warmth. Icy icy feet find their way on Buckys stomach as Evelina lays on Steve's sleeping chest, tiny hands playing gently with his beard. She's almost back to falling asleep herself, her eyes half closed and her breaths slow and relaxed. Bucky smiles and plays with her little toes, warming them up under the heavy duvet which protects them from the bite of winter air.
Seven o'clock. Bucky looks at the baby monitor and like an alarm clock, soft whines, not quite there yet cries to be let down. Da-da, da-da Tristan calls for, not with a particular preference, just to be taken and placed in between loving warmth. Bucky chuckles. Oh but how could he have missed that. His baby love. Their son.
He's still smiling as he makes his way out of the bed. Shivering as he walks out their bedroom.
In Tristan's room, it's not quite as bright as the master bedroom. The sun rise on the east and Tristan's bedroom is facing west. But in the crib, a tiny body shrieks with excitement, the 'da-da, da-da' louder and faster now. Buckys whole entire heart bursts with love for his baby.
"Good morning my little sunshine. Someone's in a happy mood." He coos as he picks Tristan up from his cot, hands grappling around his neck as if it's been years since they last were able to do that. He buries his nose in Tristan's brown curly wurly hair, The milky baby scent is fast fading, Tristan is almost 10 months old now, and Bucky would miss the scent if his son wasn't the other most precious thing bestowed upon him, his tiny person.
"Mm, seems like someone needs to be changed." Bucky says and Tristan babbles in what seems like agreement. "And they need a milk bottle too huh." He laughs as he feels the shoulder of his t-shirt dampen, Tristan gnawing on his shoulder. He's teething.
Bucky makes a quick work of changing Tristan's diaper in the en-suite before washing his hands and making his way to the kitchen, with his 9-month in tow.
Tristan is calm and not quite as fussy as Bucky fiddles and faffs around in the kitchen, laying serenely with his head on Buckys shoulder and thumb in his mouth. It's almost meditative. Bucky’s brain is blissfully quiet as he makes his way around their light drenched kitchen. The morning sun is soothing, almost like its kissing their house good morning. It's beautiful. The world outside, even in its winter state and cold, is beautiful.
He finishes with the bottles. Two. Evelina still has her morning bottle, they're working on it but Bucky isn't in a rush, his baby will give it up soon anyways. Especially when the promise of chocolate milk comes in instead.
Little steps. Hah.
He feels almost too awake to go back into bed, but when he enters the room, it's glowing with the morning sun and Steve and their daughter look entirely too cosy and warm and sweet to not want to get back into bed.
Besides, the little sunflower in his arms is starting to get restless, time for his morning feed.
His husband gives him a sleepy smile, words aren't as easy in the mornings. But actions speak miles louder than words when he reaches up for a sleepy morning peck, which turns into two and three before Evelina gets in the way. Stevie is hers and not to share. She doesn't mind it when Steve reaches for Tristan though. To hold him and feed him, kiss him good morning. Bucky may have a bit of competition in his hands with their little ones.
He snuggles back in bed, all his babies are together and warm and there's no other way he'd rather be spending this blissful Sunday morning. Evelina cosies up on his chest, milk bottle in mouth and hands reaching for Buckys sleep tousled strands.
She's got a thing for hair Bucky now realises, likes the texture of it between her forefinger and thumb. It's weird but cute. He wonders how long it will last. It's one of his favourite things she does.
It's tender and light how quietly their morning passes without even a single tantrum. Must be something in the air, Bucky muses as he cards his fingers through Steve's hair. Their Babies are laying in between them, Steve's teasing Evelina and testing her on her words. It's still early and so Bucky doesn't feel particularly hungry and he knows the kids don't get hungry until around nine-ish. He's got time before it's breakfast.
And it seems like Tristan's on the same page as him too.
Tristan may also completely be obsessed with Bucky. Like entirely. Though he adores Steve's attention, laughs and babbles back, it seems that when he needs a cuddle, or wants to be picked up, it's always his papa that he wants, always Bucky.
So when in the middle of the bed, he's starting to feel a little left out, when his big sister is playing trampoline on Steve's abdomen, he starts crying- or better described as whining, turning to Bucky and looking at him with the saddest eyes, cries only getting louder. So Bucky picks him back up, biting back a laugh when he places Tristan in his arms and all he can do is nuzzle his face in Buckys neck with sweetest little sleepy sounds, teeny tiny hands holding on so tight to his shirt. His little sunbeam may be a tad too clingy, but Bucky can't find it in him to care.
It's days like these, where everything is so blissfully quiet. Serendipity. It's like nothing else in the world exists and it's just them in the most cosiest sense. His mind is so serene and all he can feel is love for his little rays of sun. Their little honey is sleeping cosily on his chest and their angel baby is playing with daddy just beside him. He feels the tendrils of sleep wrap around his brain and body, because he's never been much of a morning person. And his last thought is of how much he loves his family, His teeny tiny family, comprised of his two baby's and his most favourite person in the entire world. Its all just so beautiful.
☀️🌙⭐️