The Encyclopedia Of Bucky Barnes' New Beginnings | Stucky

Four ∆ Scraped Hands And Hearts

Waking up in Steve's arms is something Bucky often took for granted.

He'd fallen asleep in his husband's warm embrace, that was now replaced by only a blanket. With a shaking arm that had yet to get the message of 'we're awake now, please function,' Bucky pushed himself up onto one elbow, sighing as something in his back popped. Shifting his weight to his left hip, he sat up the rest of the way, pushing his left palm over his stubbled cheek.

The couch dipped beside him, and he leaned into the brush of Steve's fingers over his arm. "Go back to sleep, Buck."

Even though he was dropping back down, resituating himself so his head was in the blond's lap, he gave the weak protest of, "But work -"

"I called you in. It's okay, one day won't hurt anything," Steve soothed, pushing his fingers through Bucky's hair - and he was down for the count, resting his cheek on Steve's thigh. But if he actually slept, was the question.

He stayed silent for a few minutes, enjoying the slow push and pull of Steve's fingers through his hair, the drag of his knuckles or fingertips over his skin. He almost let the soothing touch coax him back into unconsciousness, but he held strong, and finally asked, "How is she doing?"

"I got some breakfast in her and then she wanted to go back to bed."

"Thank you for doing that." He threw his free left arm over Steve's lap, using the purchase against the couch cushion to push himself up. But he gave up partway through, and let his cheek fall on Steve's chest. Steve's rock-hard, but somehow soft, extremely muscled chest. "You have no idea how much -"

"I told you that I'd be here. You don't have to thank me." He dropped a kiss down on the top of his head, fingers sliding down behind his ear and his palm coming to rest on his shoulder blade. "Did you sleep well?"

"Not exactly, but I always sleep like a rock. So that's something."

He could practically hear the roll of Steve's eyes, but melted in his hold as his large hand smoothed down his back. He said, "I called my dad today," moving on.

Joseph and Sarah Rogers were saints. There wasn't any doubt in Bucky's mind. From the second he was introduced to them, they treated him like their own, welcomed his family with open arms. Bucky wouldn't ever forget the way Joe had hugged him the first time they saw each other after Bucky's own father had passed away, bone-crushing and filled with grief, love, and empathy.

"About...?" He trailed off, ultimately falling quiet. Steve knew what he meant.

"He said that he would meet us at Dot's place, help us bring Olivia's stuff back. Furniture and what else can fit can go with him, clothes and stuff like that with us."

Bucky turned further into the curve of Steve's body, curling around him. Folding his legs up and winding his arms around his torso, pressing his face further into the warmth of Steve's chest. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

"You aren't going to. Neither of us are. We just have to figure it out as we go."

"She hates me."

"She probably thinks you were the one that left her and Dot. She's grieving. She doesn't know you. But once she does know you, she's going to love you just as much as I do. You're going to be a good dad, you're already the best husband and brother. Just another thing to have under your belt."

Bucky remained silent, all but for a content hum after he cuddled even closer. After a minute, Steve carded his fingers through his hair, touching a kiss to the top of his head.

~∆~

Sarah's wide smile was visible around the every-day fabric mask, the slightly tinted windshield of Joe's Chevy truck. For being in their mid-to-late-fifties, both of Steve's parents were spritely and active, much more than anyone would expect. Sarah walked with pep in her step more often than not, emitted sunshine from her pores, and infected everyone around her with her smiles.