Chapter Text
“Oh and don’t forget he really, really hates apple sauce.” Wade rushed out before handing over his boyfriend to Bucky, scarred face twisted into a grimace in memory of what had happened last time he’d offered the snack to his boy.
Bucky nodded and placed Peter on his hip, hoping to have him relaxed before his caregiver left; a distressing thing for just a little boy. Steve watched their interaction quietly, marvelling at how cute the fellow little was! He hadn’t met his Daddy’s friend before but apparently he was a busy man and that meant they were hosting his boyfriend while he saw to a job out of town.
Both big and little Steve were excited about this. A new friend who he didn’t have to hide his toys from? It was going to be a great weekend. Steve hardly got to be his little self recently because of a busy work period for both him and Bucky. So, this arrangement was a nice excuse to relax and have some fun. Steve bit his lip as his eyes sparkled with childish wonder at the fluffy mop of curls on top of Peter’s head, he reached out to touch them and smiled when they sprung up after he passed his hand over the mess.
“He’s so pretty, Daddy.” Steve whispered to Bucky like it was a secret.
The two older men chuckled fondly, but certainly didn’t disagree. Wade checked his watch before sighing and pressing a kiss to a half-asleep Peter’s cheek, saying goodbye to Bucky before ruffling Steve’s hair,
“Bye, cutie.” Steve liked his daddy’s friend.
That morning was pretty quiet, Peter spent most of his time lying half on top of Bucky, eyes closed and arm curled around his teddy while Steve babbled to Bucky about the different powers his rubber dinosaurs had. Of course, Bucky responded with ‘ooh’ and ‘ah’ where appropriate and Steve was happy. As Peter woke up, he wasn’t feeling little anymore which made for a bit of a rude shock, lying on an unfamiliar man’s chest, drool drying on his chin. His embarrassment was short lived, however. Buck made quick work of ensuring Pete felt comfortable, shaking his hand and welcoming him to their home. Steve noticed the change and felt himself slowly come out of the fuzzy headspace, too, greeting big Peter with enthusiasm.
“Hi, Pete. I—I’m Steve. Welcome to our home. I love your hair!” He shook the brunet’s hand with a smile, glancing at Bucky for approval, even while big. A proud, subtle nod at his manners and Steve’s need for assurance was sated.
Turned out, Pete is a very nice kid with funny stories to tell from his time spent in university and the part of town he used to live in - one certainly known for its colourful happenings. They got to know each other over the lunch Bucky had cooked for them, the older man admiring the way his boyfriend listened so well, added on to stories, and even told some of his own. He seemed comfortable with Pete. It was important to both Bucky and Wade that their boyfriends got along with one another, considering how long they’d been friends. He sent a text to Wade, updating him on the boys and wishing him luck for his meeting.
When the boys settled to watch a movie just after dinner, Bucky scrolled past the kids section, bright colours and cute animations made both boys whine in loss. He only chuckled fondly and went back so that they could decide what to watch. Settling on a Barbie film, the two boys slowly slipped under, eyes wide and minds fuzzy. They giggled and gasped together, marvelling over the pretty dresses and equally pretty characters. Once that had finished, Peter excitedly opened his Spiderman backpack and pulled out two barbie dolls. Steve gasped. He didn’t have Barbie dolls. The two boys began to play on the floor, reenacting scenes from the film and humming rather creative renditions of the classical soundtrack.
While Bucky busied himself cleaning up the dining room table and kitchen after the mess dinner had produced, he left the two boys to their imaginations. Currently, they were trying to manipulate the dolls so that they could do acrobatics, but it was proving to be quite difficult. Steve was always a bit clumsy when he was little but he was trying his hardest, promise! However, he started to notice how Peter’s frustration was building and he felt stupid, he didn’t want Peter to think he wasn’t fun to play with. He found it difficult to make friends even when he was big, so he just couldn’t afford to mess this up.
Not so friendly thoughts and the pressure only made it more difficult for him to focus. “No, no, Stevie, like this!” Peter grabbed onto the barbie’s head, pulling towards himself right as Steve pulled the other way. It was like it happened in slow motion, the pop of the doll’s neck, the drop of Steve’s stomach and Peter’s face falling
“Sh-she was my favourite…” the little boy whimpered out in horror, looking at Steve like he’d committed the most heinous crime imaginable.
“But it was an accident…” Steve didn’t know why he was trying to make excuses. What had he done?
Alerted by Pete’s devastating cries, Bucky rushed into the living room taking in the sight of a guilty-looking Steve holding part of a decapitated Barbie and poor, little Peter, chest heaving with sobs. He gave a pointed look to Steve who just shrunk in on himself, looking impossibly small, Bucky scooped Peter up and started whispering comforting things in his ear, kissing his temple. While Bucky paced around a little bit, bouncing Peter on his hip, Steve felt his heart start to hurt at how well Pete seemed to fit into his Daddy’s arms. Steve looked down at his body where big, strong muscles corded his arms and legs, developed over years of having to protect himself in his lonely, unstable life. Self-consciously, he picked at his thin t-shirt that had stuck to his toned stomach, trying to achieve a posture where he didn’t look so broad.
It was this distraction that caused him to miss his daddy’s voice, calling for him. “Steve.” It was punched out, frustrated. Bucky did not like repeating himself. His head snapped up, looking at his caregiver with wide eyes.
“What do you say to Peter?” Bucky raised his eyebrows, not impressed about the situation.
He put a lot of emphasis on respecting other people’s belongings and Steve had disappointed him.
“Steve— Stevie’s so sorry, Pete,” he wrung his hands until the skin was red and irritated, hoping that he had done what his Daddy was suggesting.
“For what?” His tone had softened slightly but it still made Steve flinch a little.
“For pullin’ on your barbie…” he wouldn’t say breaking because even in his fuzzy head, he knew he hadn’t purposefully broken it, although he could admit to being apart of the accident.
What he couldn’t understand was why he was still on the receiving end of Bucky’s fierce gaze, and Peter now sat calmly all bundled up in his daddy’s arms. It was just an accident.
“Alright,” he sounded pretty flat when he spoke next, “You’re gonna sit in the corner for ten minutes and think about how this could have been avoided okay? I don’t want to hear a word until you’re done.” Steve bit his lip, debating whether he should say, okay daddy, but he didn’t want to disappoint him any further. He walked clumsily to the designated timeout corner they scarcely used, in silence.
Regretfully, reflecting on his actions only lasted so long before he found himself daydreaming. Steve had a fantastic imagination and was more often than not envisaging his next drawing. Less sophisticated than they may be when he was big, Steve’s ideas consisted of his toys going on wonderful adventures, all bright colours and simple designs. He even wondered if he could draw his daddy holding him, like he’d been holding Peter; to manipulate his figure to fit so nicely into Bucky’s arms. He loved drawing for this reason. He could bend reality, test its elasticity with his pencil, and shape it into something new and better. He’d never thought to use it in this way before, though.
Perhaps Bucky would like it? Maybe he’d even put it up on the fridge! It was what he deserved, anyway. Such a good caregiver should have a perfect, little boy.
Steve smiled to himself, teeth digging into his lip at the thought of being carried around like a baby. Instead of making him insecure as it had earlier, it just made Steve even smaller. His thumb slowly made its way to his mouth, body relaxing. He probably should ask his daddy for his pacifier. He wasn’t supposed to suck his thumb, daddy said it’s yucky. But, he was not allowed to speak and Bucky was busy reading a story to a dozing Peter, not paying any mind to Steve. In a poor attempt to make his caregiver happy while sating his need for oral soothing, Steve was drooling and suckling on his - well his Daddy’s - T-shirt by the time Bucky’s alarm goes off.
He could see his caregiver approaching him and giggled happily, mumbling a “Dada” around the moistened fabric. Bucky sighed quietly, crouching down to Steve’s level. The older man clicked his tongue, and ran a hand over Steve’s jaw.
“How come you didn’t ask for your pacifier, doll? You know you’re supposed to use your words when you need something”
Blinking up at him confusedly, he simply said, “Bein’ good, Dada.” Bucky didn’t understand why Steve sounded so assured of himself.
“But you know you need to ask, that’s not very good, Stevie. Look you got my shirt all wet.” He gestured softly at the shirt before wiping Steve’s messy chin.
Despite his boy soiling the shirt, he was trying to be gentle and soft spoken with him. He could see the far-away look in his eyes and knew he was dealing with a very little boy.
“Dada said he no wan’ Stevie talkin’ in da corner.” Steve brought his finger up to his lip in an adorable ‘shh’ gesture and Bucky finally understood.
“Daddy did say that. Sorry, he shoulda been more clear. Next time, if you need your pacifier, you can ask daddy, okay?”
Steve couldn’t understand how he could say ‘no talking’ in such a serious, scary voice when he didn’t actually mean it but the boy nodded along anyway, just hoping to be held like he longed for.
Extending his arms, hands clenching and unclenching, he silently begged to be picked up in the same way he’d noticed Peter ask. He thought Pete looked so cute when he did it, surely daddy wouldn’t be able to resist. When Bucky just took both of his hands and hauled him off the floor and onto his feet, Steve was sorely disappointed. He was led over to the smaller couch - the one not currently occupied by a sleeping Peter - and after Bucky sat, he thoughtlessly sunk down onto his lap.
“Oof—“ Bucky made a breathless sound, surprised eyes clashed with Steve’s bright, innocent ones.
“Uh.. honey? Can you hop off daddy so we can talk please?” Bucky struggled to speak with the pressure on his abdomen. Steve felt that familiar taste in his mouth; the sour tinge of rejection. Reflexively, his shoulders hunched and he sucked his stomach in. He didn’t waste any time scrambling off of Buck’s lap. It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head, trickling down his spine. He wasn’t feeling so small and content anymore. He felt awkward and insecure, settling almost two cushions away from Bucky.
They sat there in silence before Bucky gave Steve an expectant look.
“Uhm, what happened with Peter,” he started, nails digging into his palms, “it really was just an accident.” He said softly.
He didn’t want to seem like he was avoiding what had happened, but he couldn’t stand it if Bucky thought he had been reckless and disrespectful with Peter’s belongings.
“We were just messing around and I— turns out I’m not so good at playin’ barbie…” Steve was embarrassed to admit it, cheeks rosy at the confession. He didn’t know why, though. He already felt inadequate in his headspace, and his difficulty to play nicely with others was just another flaw to add to the list.
“Peter pulled one way and I moved the other way and, you know.” He shrugged, done explaining.
“Okay, baby. I understand. Just be careful next time, yeah?” Bucky finished, opening his palms invitingly. Habitually, Steve responded to his caregiver’s question with,
“Yes, daddy.” Even when he wasn’t little, but just feeling a bit fuzzy, it was easier to let Bucky do the work; to look after him. He clambered over to Buck and cuddled up to his side. He loved cuddling up to his boyfriend but he couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to be actually small - not just mentally - and encased in the man’s strong arms.
Steve felt guilty, wishing for more. He hadn’t known comfort like this all his life, yet he was selfish enough to want and want.
Blissfully unaware of the war raging in his Stevie’s head, Bucky drew his nails up and down his back, face buried in the younger’s soft, overgrown locks. He loved it when Steve let his hair get like this, it started to curl a little bit near his ears, and he looked carefree. That’s all that Buck wished for Steve, to be free and feel safe enough to let go.
Glancing over at the clock, Bucky decided it was time for bed.