Tiny Frog ||Stucky Fanfiction|| (DISCONTINUED)

24

(Steve POV) 

He doesn't react at all at first, sitting frozen with my lips pressed against his, and I worry I've crossed a line until he pushes forward as well. The taste of the hot chocolate we had way back when the movie started still lingers on his lips. 

I faintly realize that Bucky isn't the same as the Bucky I had in the forties, and that he never will be. But it's okay, because I'm not the man I was then, either.

And neither of us would have dared to do something like this back then. 

I eventually pull back and Bucky releases a shuddering breath, turning away with a bashful little grin. 

And we don't speak. I don't think either of us would know what to say, anyhow, so we sit together quietly as the movie plays out, ending with the Von Trapps escaping Austria via the Alps. 

"Did you mean to do that?" Bucky asks unsurely when the end credits begin playing. 

"Do what?"

"That." 

Oh, that.

"Oh. Yes, I did." 

"Cool. Just checkin'."

I reach over at the table next to the sofa to turn on a lamp and provide light that isn't coming from the TV. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have just done that-" 

"No, it was good," he interrupts. "No need to apologize." 

"Well, I should have asked, at least," I amend. "I'll make sure to ask next time."

"Next time?" he repeats, as if he misheard me and needs to make sure.

"Will there be a next time?" 

He gives it a moment's thought, then turns to me with a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah, there'll be a next time." 

---

We don't bring it up again after that. It doesn't happen again, either, but something definitely changes. We begin to sit a little closer on cold nights. Laugh a little louder at breakfast. Leave our bedroom doors open so that, if something goes awry during the night, we can seek each other out for comfort. We begin to take up a little bit more of our own space because we can.

Because there's nothing wrong with what we're doing. We have made it. We have lived long enough to see a day where I can love him and he can love me and no one can tell us that we can't. 

We live in our own little bubble of perfection- not having to do anything or see anyone because of a recent blizzard- for about a week and a half before our shield melts away to welcome a visitor at our door.

It's Tony, seeming very panicked about something. I let him in and offer him coffee, which he strangely declines.

"Before you start," I preface, "I would like to remind you that I am retired, and I really hope you're not here to ask me to help you save the world. You can ask Bucky-" I nod towards Bucky, who is zoning out pretty hard on the kitchen floor. "- but he'll probably say no." 

"It's nothing like that at all," he assures me, sinking down into a dining chair and dragging a hand over his worried face.

I look at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. He takes in a deep breath to steady himself.

"Pep's pregnant." 

The idea of Tony being a father feels foreign to me, but it's an announcement to be celebrated nonetheless. 

"Tony, that's amazing!" I congratulate, already steeling myself for the announcement that there will be a party for this and that I will have to go.

"No! No, it isn't!" He laughs miserably. "I can't be a dad. There's no way that I won't fuck that up! Not to mention, there's the whole Avenger thing. I might not live to see this kid graduate high school, or get married. Hell, I might not even live to see the kid be born!"

"You'll be a great father," I say, though I don't quite believe it myself. That could just be leftover resentment from Siberia, though. "Besides, it's not like you'll be doing it alone. Pepper will probably help." 

He gives me a tight smile, which I return with a more genuine one. I move away from the dining table to fix myself a cup of coffee, moving Bucky's head out of the way when I get a spoon so I don't whack him in the head with the silverware drawer.

"What's wrong with him?" Tony asks, choosing to avoid the topic of his parenting skills even though he brought it up in the first place.

"PTSD, I think," I set a coffee mug down in front of Tony despite the fact that he says he didn't want any. "Sam called it a thousand-yard stare or something." 

"I don't think that's what a thousand-yard stare looks like." He turns in his seat to address Bucky instead of me. "Whatcha lookin' at, Soldier?" 

"Don't call him that-" I start exasperatedly, knowing that Bucky already doesn't like Tony and that something like this could just make that worse.

I cut myself short when Bucky's unfocused gaze shifts to focus on Tony, his expression still carefully blank. 

"Sorry," Tony mutters insincerely, then sips awkwardly at his coffee. Thankfully, he seems to take this to mean Bucky is upset with him, rather than having the same realization that I'm having. 

Bucky- or rather, the Winter Soldier- turns to focus on me instead. Other than that, he doesn't move. It's almost like he's waiting for something.

Like he's waiting for instruction.

This would explain why, despite the fact that he does become the Soldier when he does this, he doesn't become violent. He doesn't have any orders. 

Dr. Raynor absolutely needs to know about this. 

"Anyway," Tony continues after finishing off his coffee. "We're gonna have a big old party to celebrate this. I want to quit drinking before the baby arrives, so I plan to go big and then go home. Obviously you're invited to this party." 

I mindlessly agree to attending because, honestly, Tony's baby is the last thing I'm thinking about right now. 

(Hooray I wrote words)