The Encyclopedia Of Bucky Barnes' New Beginnings | Stucky

Ten ∆ High Holidays Unite

Bucky had few regrets in life.

One, despite knowing he had no control of the events that transpired: not being in his daughter's life. Seeing her born. Hearing her first word. First steps. First smile. First laugh. Everything.

Two: not hugging his dad the last time he had seen him, before the heart attack. But they had smiled and said I love you, with their arms full. Bucky holding the heavy Crock Pot, George hugging Sam and Natasha's adorable German Shepherd mutt.

Three: sending Tyler Moore that love letter in middle school. He would never, ever live that humiliation down. He regretted it the second he couldn't get it back.

Four: not meeting Steve sooner. Whenever their paths had or almost crossed. They had quickly learned that they've been so close, but never connected.

Bucky stared at the framed picture of his dad. Senior photo, one of the main family favorites and Bucky's personal. He reached up to readjust it from where the duster had knocked it out of place, knuckles brushing against the side of the small urn, no taller than the length of Bucky's hand. A marble washed with a deep green and a slate blue, with veins of darker blue and green and gold. The red cardinals rested on their sides behind them, shown between the gold frame and urn, the trimmed ends of the sticks remnants of how they'd been stuck into a pot of red carnations. The bush was loved and cared for in a sunny spot in his mother's sunroom.

Bucky got real sentimental around the holidays. His dad really had no clue what all he was getting into, marrying into a Jewish family, but he had loved it and accepted everything. Bucky and his sister grew up celebrating Christmas and other Americanized holidays alongside the holidays of their heritage, the Russian and Middle Eastern Jewish that ran in their veins. Just as Steve had been so ready to dive in and learn all the meanings for the holidays and how to celebrate them.

Yom Kippur was one of Bucky's favorites. Even if it made him so sad. It made him think about those regrets, how his life would've been if he didn't have those and life had gone that way. How to balance his already strong unconditional love for his daughter, and the beautiful thing he had with Steve, to make everything he cared for work as a cohesive unit in his life.

To make things matters worse, he couldn't exactly see his mom, sister, niece, and his two favorite cousins for it. It was coming up to near a year of the shitty pandemic, March was when his school closed and now it was fucking October - all because of those who didn't want to put a piece of fabric on their face. Boo-fucking-hoo.

And he hated that Christmas and Easter were added to his Google Calendar with a click of a button, but not even Hanukkah (because of course one of the least religious of the holidays was one of the best known) was included. But Steve wrote them all in when they got a physical calendar for the year, that they kept in the kitchen with a cup of colorful gel pens beside it. 2020 was puppy themed. Sometimes, Bucky skipped to the August photo if he needed a little temporary pick-me-up.

He had taken the day off for the first day of his favorite holiday. He hadn't pushed the new holidays on Olivia, that was too big of a change that he knew she wasn't ready for. Even if Dot did include anything Jewish as she was growing up, it would've been small things, nothing from the high holidays. He was going to ease in slow. Start with Sukkot, which in their situation was basically pre-Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, and then they could hopefully do some sort of Purim party by the time February twenty fifth and sixth came around. Steve was home, Olivia was filling out her booklets and Bucky was just tidying some things up while she didn't need him. But he'd come when she called.

As long as she wanted him, he always would.

His dad's little memorial shelf fixed up to his liking, Bucky stepped away and returned the duster to its place in a cabinet in the laundry room. He came back and sat on the floor beside his daughter, watching as she traced the letters on the page with a pink crayola marker. He propped his elbow up on on the couch cushion behind him and learned his temple against his knuckles, an absent-minded smile on his lips.

"Bucky?" she suddenly asked.

He sat up, dropping his hands into his crossed lap. He had read some things during his downtime at work, and one had been to always show your kid attention so they know they would always have it. Usually it was for babies, not leaving them to cry it out, but they were still new to each other and they had to build that trust. So far, Bucky could tell things were getting better. "Yeah, sweetie?"

"What's your favorite color?"

He pursed his lips, humming. "Red or blue, but I also really like purple."

"Like Denise?" The purple and green octopus sat in her room, ready for bed later on or whenever Olivia would want her.

He cracked a wide grin. "Yeah, like Denise. But she's also bright green, which is one of Steve's favorite colors."

Olivia reached for the dark purple marker, close to the deep violent of the stuffed octopus, to rival the pastel green of her underside. She muttered, "B..." and stared down at the page, concentrating as she wrote a shaky B in the workspace on the page. The rest followed, Bucky urging her when needed, until his name was on the page in the assured, though beginning, handwriting.

Bucky had never been more proud of anything or anyone.

~∆~

"My family is Jewish," he began to explain. "You know what Christianity is?"

"They have Christmas and Easter," she easily responded, hands on the seat of the wooden chair between her knees as she leaned toward him, feet kicked up.

"Yes," he confirmed. "That's called a religion, and Christmas and Easter are their holidays. Steve's family celebrates them. You met Grandma Sarah and Papa Joe when we went to your house."

"That's Stevie's mommy and daddy."

"Yeah. Well, my mommy's Jewish, so that means I am. And I'm your dad, so you are, too. And we have our own holidays. And guess what? Some of ours last more than one day!"

Steve scoffed from the other dining room chair, shaking his head, rolling his eyes as Olivia asked, "Do we get presents?"

"Sometimes," Bucky answered. "Hanukkah is in December, and my parents always give us one present for each of the eight days. And I'll take sure you get eight, too, sweetie." They were still going to do Christmas, Bucky grew up celebrating it for his dad and then continued it with Steve and his in-laws. But he could still work his little Jew-y magic and try and make it good for his girl. "But this holiday is Sukkot. It goes on for seven days. Today's the first day. It's a celebration of harvest and the protection God gave our people when they were traveling for a long time, years ago. It's kind of like Thanksgiving."

"Mommy says Thanksgiving is stupid and racist."

Across the table, Steve made a garbled sound, a laugh that was attempted to be muffled and stopped. Red in his face from the failed attempt, he finally said, "She's not wrong. But in modern time, Thanksgiving is mostly about family and gathering people. And that's what a lot of the Jewish holidays are about."

"If we didn't have the virus, we'd be at my mom's house. But, since this is your first one and it's a nice beginning holiday, we're gonna do it yourselves. All seven days. And today and tomorrow, we light these candles," he gestured to the two orange candles in the middle of the table, unlit until it was officially sundown, for the next few minutes. They sat in front of the mini Sukkoh he made years ago, the hut that the holiday was named after, "and then we're gonna make a fort later and watch a movie. Does that sound good?"

She nodded her head, and Bucky grinned.

"And there's one more thing," he said, standing up and retreating into the kitchen. He picked the fresh bread up from the counter by the cutting board it sat on, and brought it over to rest on the open space in front of him on the dining table. "This is challah bread. It's special. It's braided, not just a boring loaf you'd find at the store. And it has some stuff that normal bread doesn't have in it."

Bucky preferred challah over any other bread, even more when it was fresh from himself or his mom. He didn't bring the traditional honey out that was specified for the challah in the first two days, because he had never eaten it and he honestly wasn't able to get the bottle open earlier, which he refused to admit ever admit to Steve unless they were cooking together. Which they were, but he never had to know.