Work Text:
Bucky’s phone buzzed three times in quick succession so he set his pen on top of his notebook and reached for his phone.
BP: SOS
BP: call me
BP: im sosorry!!!
He jabbed the call button with his thumb and didn’t breathe while it rang way longer than it should have given the urgency of the messages.
“Oh my god, Jimmie! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to!”
“Didn’t mean to what, Becca? Take a breath and tell me what happened.”
“I was talking to mom—“
Bucky cut her off with a groan. “Oh no. You didn’t ?”
“I didn’t mean to! It just slipped out. I was talking about the twins and then I mentioned how nice it’ll be for them to all play together over the holidays, and I’m so sorry.”
There beep notifying him of an incoming call. He knew who it was without needing to look at the screen.
“She’s already calling me. Sit rep, now.”
“She less mad, more… disappointed.”
“Oh fuck.” That was worse. Anger was easy to deal with.
“I’m so so sorry Jimmie.”
“Fuck. Fuck! I better answer.”
Becca hung up without a further word and Bucky accepted the new call.
"Hi, Ma."
“Hello dear,” Winnifred said. Because he knew to look for it he could hear the tightness in her voice. “Becca tells me you have news?”
Bucky desperately tried to think about the best way to spin the whole situation. How much to confess now.
“I had wanted to surprise you,” he started slowly.
“Oh, I’m surprised.” The ‘and not in a good way’ went unsaid but weighed heavy in the air.
He winced.
“Uh, congratulations on your new grandchild?” he tried.
“So Becca wasn’t mistaken. You did get married without informing either your father or I.” Bucky sank lower in his chair, not that she could see the action or the shame written all over his face.
“I. Yeah. It’s kinda a long story, but. Yeah. That’s basically it.”
“That’s basically it?” She sounded incredulous. “James Buchanan. What on earth made you think you couldn’t come to your father or I about this? What made you want to hide this from us. Or was it us you were hiding?”
“No! No, of course not. I’m not ashamed of you guys. I love you!”
“Then why weren’t we allowed in on what’s supposed to be the happiest day of your life?”
“Ma. It wasn’t like that. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Then tell me what it was like.” Now her voice was gentler.
“So, a while ago Stevie hauled me out to the circus when it was in town. Said I was holing myself in my apartment too much, and he really wanted to see some archery act he’d seen on the flyer. You know how he is, doesn’t let go of an idea once he’s got his mind set on it, so I ended up getting dragged along.” Winnifred made a noncommittal noise to encourage him to continue when he paused.
“The show was pretty good, but uh. The crowd got to be too much so I ditched out near the end to grab a… oh hey, did I tell you I finally quit smoking?”
“Don’t try and distract me, James Buchannan,” she said, somewhat waspishly.
“Sorry. Uh, when I went looking for some quiet I heard somebody crying, so I went to check it out.”
“Of course you did.” Now there was affection layered in her tone.
“And there was the archer, from the act Stevie had wanted to see. And he had a baby with him, she was so tiny, Ma, and they were both just miserable. He didn’t have any support at that circus at all and I couldn’t not try to help.”
Winnifred heaved a long suffering sigh. “You know, I’d expect this kind of tomfoolery from Steve.”
“I know. But, Ma. I really couldn’t leave them like that. So I offered up my spare room, told him he could worry about rent after he figured out a different job, and well. He was tired and desperate enough to take me up on it.”
“I believe tired. Babies take it out of you. You think when they grow up and move out on their own it’ll be less stress, but I’ll have you know I’ve gotten more white hairs since you and Becca graduated highschool than all the years before that.”
“Sorry, Ma.”
“What happened next.”
“Well, they moved in, and I started helping with Abby. Her name’s Abigail, and she’s just the sweetest thing. Ma, you’re gonna love her, she’s—”
“James.”
“Right. Abby got sick, and it turned out she didn’t have insurance and Clint wasn’t sure how to set her up with the state aid, and I offered—”
“Clint? Is that your husband’s name? You married somebody who couldn’t be bothered to apply for medicaid for his baby? James, what were you thinking?”
“Ma, it wasn’t like that. He was really scared that they’d take her away because of his situation, even though the momma gave up the baby to him. And, Ma. He didn’t have a great time growing up. None of his experience with child services was good, and he had a lot of them. It seemed easy enough to offer to marry him, get them both on my Tricare and just get everything fixed.
“And I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t supposed to last, and I didn’t want to take that away from you.”
“Take what away?”
“The idea that I might find someone to spend my life with. Have a family.”
“Oh, sweetheart. I never worried that you wouldn’t be able to find someone when you were ready.”
Emotion swamped him and he had to swallow hard to clear the lump from his throat.
“Thanks,” he said, and she politely ignored how raspy it sounded. “So. We got married, and it was just supposed to be for the paper, but…”
“Does he feel the same way?”
“Yeah. It’s. It’s good. We’re good, he uh. Abby has her own room now,” he said, somehow unable to directly admit that Clint had moved into his bed.
“And you’re not worried…” she let the question trail off.
It didn’t matter what the question was, the answer to anything she might be asking was: “No.”
“Well, I’m happy for you. Disappointed you couldn’t tell me yourself, but happy you found someone. Now. Tell me about my grandchild.”
Bucky was only too happy to move onto the less fraught topic, now that the danger of a catastrophic level ten Ma-Event had passed, and extol Abby’s virtues.
“Her favorite thing is to take walks at the park and look at dogs and ducks. She plays pattycake with me now, just smacks both of her hands into my one and waits for me to move my hand so she can hit it again. Its the cutest thing. And she’s pulling up on all the furniture so we think she’s gonna start walking soon.”
“Walking? How old is she?”
Bucky paused guiltily before admitting, “Her birthday is the 3rd.”
“Next week?”
“Yeah.”
“Your father and I will be there.”
“Ma, it’s the middle of the week. And we weren’t really planning on—”
“You’ve already waited this long to tell me about Abby, unless you have a real good reason I don’t intend to miss her first birthday. We don’t have to stay long, and if you don’t want to make a big deal out of it I won’t offer to bring your sisters or nephews. I can find someone to mind Miriam for the afternoon while we’re gone.”
“Clint works nights,” he warned.
“That’s fine. You talk with your hunny and let me know when the best time for a visit is.”
He didn’t get much further in the conversation with his ma before Abby started crying, awake from her nap, and he used that as an excuse to hang up.