A/B/O Au. Bucky is an army sniper who has a whirlwind romance with Tony. While on leave he introduces Tony to his Army buds, who do not take kindly to Tony because they think he's using Bucky for good PR. So before Bucky goes back on tour they break up. Fast Forward 3years Bucky wandering aimlessly through towns (without an arm) bumps into Tony whose got a young boy that oddly resembles Bucky when he was younger. ANGST please.
The Long Way Round - Part I of IV
[Part II] | [Part III] | [Part IV]
2013
When Bucky’s finally fought his way back through the crowded pub and slides into their booth, he immediately notices how the mood has turned sour. It’s subtle, but Bucky’s known these guys for years, and something’s definitely up.
Jacques and Gabe have their heads bent together, and are talking in quiet, hissed French, turned away from the rest of the group. Morita’s resting bitch face has reached an entirely new level, Monty is typing away on his phone, and even Dum Dum, although still trying to keep up the conversation, is much less buoyant and blustering than usual. And then there’s Tony, shoulders hunched and shrunk in on himself, eyes fixed on a spot on the table as he worries his bottom lip.
“Hey,” Bucky whispers, and bumps their knees together, frowning when Tony startles, and pulls his leg away. “Everythin’ all right? Did somethin’ happen while I was gone?”
Tony shakes his head, the movement a little jerky. “It’s nothing,” he says, flat. It’s clearly a lie, but before Bucky can call him out on it, he adds, “Just not feeling it tonight. I might turn in early, actually, if that’s okay?”
“‘Course, yeah,” Bucky says, reaching for his jacket. “Walk you home?”
For a moment, it looks like Tony’s going to say no. But then he swallows, hard, and nods, even smiles a little in thanks when Bucky helps him into his coat, and leans into Bucky’s side, albeit somewhat stiffly, when Bucky curls an arm around him.
“Breakfast tomorrow before we gotta catch our plane?” Bucky asks the rest of the table, getting nods and a few murmured confirmations in return. None of them tease or rib him for leaving after just one beer, and Bucky squints at them for a moment, suspicious, before he shrugs, and leads Tony out onto the street.
(Watch out for the break, mobile readers!)
They walk in not entirely comfortable silence after Tony keeps blocking Bucky’s attempts at talking with short, one-word answers, clearly distracted by something. It’s not until they get to Tony’s apartment complex that Tony finally looks at Bucky again, his mouth downturned as he places a firm hand on Bucky’s chest when Bucky goes to follow him into the lobby.
“What? Not gonna invite me up for coffee?” Bucky asks, trying for joking in hopes of cheering Tony up. The flirty smile begins to slide off his face, though, when Tony shakes his head, opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Hey, no. C’mon, sweetheart, talk to me? What’s wrong?”
He goes to touch Tony’s cheek, eyes widening and hand hovering awkwardly in the air between them when Tony takes a step back. “Tony?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore,” Tony blurts out in a rush. “It’s—I think it’s for the best. If we stop.”
It takes a moment for the meaning of the words to register, but when it does, Bucky turns cold, stomach sinking. “Are—are you breakin’ up with me? Tony—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Tony hurries to reassure, reading Bucky’s mind. “You were perfect, Bucky, I swear you were. Are. This. It’s not. It’s really not you,” he says with a small, humourless chuckle, “it’s me.”
Bucky looks at the tense line of Tony’s shoulders, at the sad set of his mouth, the defeat in his eyes, and he knows it’s the truth. Or, at least, what Tony believes to be true. “Tony, sweetheart, I don’t understand—”
“Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” Tony says quietly as he backs away towards the door. Then, voice breaking on what sounds suspiciously like a sob, “Bucky, please.”
There’s nothing Bucky wants more than to reach out, wrap his arms around Tony, draw him in and hold him tight, kiss away the tears he can see glistening at the corners of Tony’s eyes. But Bucky’s never been able to refuse Tony, to deny him a single thing, especially not when he’s upset, and not even, it turns out, if it breaks his own heart. So Bucky nods, throat tight, and shoves his hands into his pockets instead.
“If—if you want to talk,” Bucky croaks, and has to clear his throat before he can continue, “about this, us, about something else. Or if you need me, if you need anything at all. You call me, a’right?” He waits until Tony hesitantly meets his eyes, needing Tony to see how serious he is about this, then promises, “I will find time for you. Doesn’t matter where I am, what I’m doing. I’ll make time for you, Tony. Always. I’ll—I’ll bribe Colonel Phillips to give me phone privileges, whatever it takes. I’ll do it.”
Tony’s crying fully now, and Bucky’s helpless to watch him wipe at his cheeks, doesn’t know what to do, how to fix it when Tony hiccups, wet and pained, “I’m sorry,” before turning around, and fleeing inside.
“Hey,” Steve calls as Bucky closes the door to their apartment behind himself. “There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry. Peggy cooked, don’t worry. Oh! She wanted me to ask you—”
He cuts off abruptly when Bucky rounds the corner into the living room, throws himself down on the couch face first, and pulls the comforter folded over its back down and over himself. “Buck? You okay?”
“No,” Bucky says, muffled. “Tony broke up with me.” When several seconds pass without Steve saying anything, Bucky shoves the comforter down enough to glance over at him, hackles raising at Steve’s almost relieved expression. “What?”
“Well. You know,” Steve says, shrugging. “It’s not exactly a surprise, is it?”
Bucky blinks at him. “The fuck are you talkin’ about? We were fine.”
The way Steve grimaces, he apparently doesn’t agree. “Buck, c’mon. He’s nineteen, smart, absurdly rich—
“So, what?” Bucky cuts in snappishly. “You’re sayin’ I’m not good enough for him? Tony doesn’t care about shit like that. An’ I thought you didn’t, either.”
Steve glares at him. “You know damn well that’s not what I’m saying. You’re a catch, anyone’d be lucky to have you.”
“Anyone but Tony?” Bucky sits up properly, pointing an accusing finger at Steve. “You never liked him, anyway. You never even gave him a chance to—”
“Because I knew this would happen!” Steve yells back, throwing his hands up in the air. “Bucky, be serious for a moment. Tony is young, with the world at his feet, and people lining up to get a piece of him. He’s—flighty, he’s never had a stable relationship before you came along. I want you to be happy, you know I do, but him getting bored of you was exactly what I was afraid of when—”
“That’s not what happened,” Bucky insists, standing.
Steve shrugs, but his pitying expression belies his nonchalance. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“I’m going to bed,” Bucky sighs, shaking his head. “Don’t wanna fight with you on my last day home.”
Bucky doesn’t fall asleep until hours later, though, curled up on top of his blankets, clutching a pillow that still smells faintly of Tony, his heart heavy and a lump in his throat.
TJ chatters happily during the cab ride to Gabe’s place, wiggling excitedly in his booster seat, his face pressed against the window to watch the unfamiliar neighbourhoods zip by. Bucky’s glad for it; he’s tense and quietly furious, and focusing on TJ’s myriad of curious questions is the perfect distraction.
That only works until he’s standing on Gabe’s front steps, though, TJ now quietly settled on his hip. He’s oddly nervous, reluctant to go in and confront his friends, to get the confirmation of their meddling he’s fairly sure is waiting for him. To buy himself a few more seconds, Bucky fumbles his phone out of his pocket—successfully, without dropping it or TJ in the process—and texts Tony where they are, in case Tony gets back before Bucky’s done here, and doesn’t see the post-it Bucky left on the fridge.
He still hesitates after putting his phone away, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and chewing his bottom lip. It’s stupid, because he knows he will go in eventually, but he can’t help it.
“Bucky,” TJ says, watching Bucky intently when Bucky glances down at him. He studies Bucky for a moment, then pats his cheek, and leans his head against Bucky’s shoulder with a quiet, content sigh.
And that—TJ’s trust in him, the warm weight of TJ, his kid, in his arms—is what snaps Bucky out of his reluctance. He lingeringly kisses the top of TJ’s head, breathing him in, and then he knocks and pushes open the door.
(Watch out for the break, mobile readers!)
Alma is the first one to spot them, coming out of the kitchen just as Bucky pulls the door shut again. “Oh, Bucky!” she exclaims, smiling brightly. “We thought you weren’t coming tonight?” She turns her smile on TJ, and seems completely unbothered when he hides his face away in Bucky’s neck. “And who’s this handsome little man?”
Bucky’s saved from answering by Peggy poking her head out of the dining room. She looks from Bucky to TJ, then settles her gaze firmly on Bucky, and raises her eyebrows, clearly having put it together. Bucky gives a quick nod anyway, and shrugs as best as he can with TJ in his arm, making a sheepish face at her.
Peggy huffs, but steps out into the hall, turning to Alma. “Your husband said something about tiramisu and got everyone all excited. Do you want me to—”
“Oh, nonsense,” Alma tisks, already turning back towards the kitchen. “I’ll get it, you’re a guest. And some plates for Bucky and his little man.”
“Thank you,” Bucky breathes, once Alma is out of earshot.
“What’s wrong?” Peggy asks, warm but straight to the point. She looks at TJ again, then shakes her head, laughing softly under her breath. “This is not what I expected when you told me something came up with Tony.”
“Yeah, well.” Bucky shifts TJ a little, watches him watch Peggy with his fingers jammed into his mouth. “Hey, buddy,” he says softly, waiting until TJ looks up at him before he goes on. “Do you think you can go hang out with Peggy for a little while? I told you about her, remember?”
TJ nods slowly. “Like daddy?”
“That’s right, baby. She’s an omega like your daddy.”
TJ twists to grin at Peggy. “You punch mean people.”
“Oh, for the love of,” Peggy sighs, levelling Bucky with an extremely judgmental look. “That’s the story you told him about me?”
“Not me,” Bucky shakes his head, chuckling, “Tony did. ‘Cause every little boy needs a badass omega who takes no crap to look up to, right?”
“Right!” TJ echoes, and goes easily when Bucky transfers him over to Peggy.
Peggy shoots Bucky one last searching look, but, like the saint she is, doesn’t press. Instead, she bounces TJ to make him giggle, and takes him into the kitchen. “How about we find you some biscuits, ducky?”
Okay, well. Bucky probably deserves having to deal with an overtired kid on a sugar high later for springing all this on her. Fair enough.
After one last, deep breath to steel himself, Bucky walks into the dining room. He’s greeted by a chorus of happily surprised heys and wide smiles, but Bucky holds up a hand, and sharply shakes his head. And now everyone is looking worried or concerned, and that just makes Bucky angrier.
Before anyone can start asking questions or say anything else, Bucky grits out, “What’d you say to Tony?”
“Buck?” Steve is frowning, confused. “What’s going on, what are you talking about? We haven’t seen Tony—”
“Not you,” Bucky interrupts. He waves a hand at the rest of the Howlies clustered around the table. “You, what’d you say to him? The night before we shipped out? What the fuck did you say to him? No,” he adds when the doorbell rings, and Gabe goes to get up, “sit down, someone else will get it. We’re not done here.”
And there is the evidence Bucky was looking for; everyone is beginning to look uncomfortable, and exchange awkward glances. It’s Dum Dum who speaks up eventually, cautiously, “You met him so soon after Brock—”
“That’s not what I’m askin’,” Bucky snaps, and moves over to the table so he can set the ring down on it. “I’m askin’ what kinda bullshit you said to Tony that made him change his mind about proposin’ to me.”
“Shit,” Monty breathes out. Jacques mutters something in French, Gabe drops his face into his hands, and Morita is grimacing down into his wine.
“We didn’t know he was going to—” Dum Dum starts, but quickly holds up his hands and changes course when Bucky glares at him. “We made some assumptions that were, in hindsight, probably not entirely accurate.”
Monty continues, “It looked suspicious, to us, the two of you meeting through his father. And when you started dating so quickly, well. It didn’t seem right, and we might’ve implied that he wasn’t what you wanted, or needed.”
“We were all worried,” Steve says. “They meant well, Bucky.”
“Oh, well, that makes it completely okay, then,” Bucky growls, glowering at them all. “Should I say thank you? Thank you for screwin’ up the happiest relationship I ever had. Thank you for treatin’ me like a fuckin’ child and goin’ behind my back instead of just fuckin’ talking to me. Thank you—”
“Bucky,” Steve tries, but Bucky’s gaining momentum now.
“We were happy. I was so, so fuckin’ happy with him. I loved him,” he says, voice breaking. Then he laughs harshly, clenching his trembling hand into a fist. “I still love him so fuckin’ much. He’s the best fuckin’ thing that’s ever happened to me, and you decided to mess that up for me before you’d even talked to him once. How fuckin’ dare you—”
He cuts himself off when the connecting door to the kitchen opens, and TJ toddles out, one ladyfinger biscuit in each hand, and thankfully looking entirely oblivious to what’s going on. Bucky catches Peggy’s eyes over the top of his head, and she looks mad enough that he knows she heard at least some of Bucky’s yelling. Good. She’ll set their asshole friends straight much more efficiently than Bucky ever could.
“Papa, long cookies, look,” TJ enthuses once he reaches Bucky, holding up his arms to be picked up. He holds one slightly soggy biscuit against Bucky’s lips, and nods in satisfaction when Bucky takes a bite. “Tasty.”
It takes Bucky a moment to get himself under control enough to answer, “Yeah, baby. Very tasty.” He clears his throat, kisses TJ’s forehead, and murmurs, “I love you, sweetheart.”
Everyone in the room—Bucky included, although for a very different reason—seems to be in varying states of shock and disbelief. Steve’s especially pale, though, looking at something over Bucky’s shoulder, so Bucky turns to see what—
“Tony,” Bucky says, then stops talking, having absolutely no idea what else to say.
Tony’s expression as he watches the Howlies and Steve is unreadable. When he walks into the room and picks the ring up from the table, Bucky’s heart sinks, but then Tony turns to him, and smiles, watery but huge. He licks his lips, and ducks his head, blushing a little, but his voice is clear when he holds the ring out, and says, “I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Tony,” Bucky says, again, and this time he doesn’t have to say anything else because Tony gets up on his toes, and kisses him.
TJ gives a squawk of protest at being squished between them, though it turns into giggles when Bucky peppers one of his cheeks with kisses, and Tony blows a raspberry on the other. Then Bucky catches Tony’s mouth again, talking right against his lips. “Let’s get outta here.”
Tony nods, and sets TJ on his own hip, then holds his free hand out to Bucky. “Let’s go home.”
“Bucky,” Dum Dum calls, hurrying after them, the rest of the Howlies and Steve hot on his heels. “I’m sorry.” He looks at Tony, as serious as Bucky’s ever seen him. “We’re all sorry.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Bucky says, tugging Tony along to the door. “Not right now.”
“Bad word,” TJ crows gleefully.
Tony laughs, happy and so, so beautiful. And Bucky, well. He just has to kiss him again.
2020
TJ is darting from Howlie to Howlie with his water gun, cackling like mad as he shoots water at them. He squeals in delight when Steve upends a bowl of water over his head, shaking himself like a dog, and proceeds to rub his wet head against Steve’s face when Steve picks him up.
In Bucky’s arms, Gus makes a small noise, looking grumpy and smacking his lips. Bucky brushes a kiss over the top of his head, and starts swaying gently. “You hungry, buddy? Do we need to go find your daddy?”
After a quick glance to make sure Addie’s still sleeping peacefully in her stroller in the shade, Bucky starts making his way across the yard. TJ’s managed to talk Steve into wrestling with him, and the Howlies are cheering and egging them on, making Bucky kind of glad that TJ is staying over with Peggy and Steve tonight, and he won’t have to put him to sleep.
He gives them a wide berth, rounds the corner of the house, and stops in his tracks when he finally spots Tony, a small, undoubtedly sappy smile spreading over his face. Tony’s lying in one of the lawn chairs, face slack in sleep, and one hand absently cradling the barely there bump of his stomach. Bucky takes a moment to just watch, to drink him in, before perching on the edge of the chair, and stroking a hand through Tony’s hair.
“Bucky,” Tony mumbles, still more asleep than awake, leaning into the touch. “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Bucky whispers back, and moves his hand to rub at Tony’s stomach, cupping the bump. “Love you all so much.”
A/N: And that’s a wrap, folks! Thanks for liking, reblogging, and commenting on this story, you’re all awesome!
(And for those of you who are curious: the twins are called Augustus Grant and Maria Adelaide.)
A/N: I lied, everyone. Oops. But this got so long, I had to break it up. But, good news; you’ll get even more of Bucky, Tony, and TJ on Monday. (And that will be the actual final part, I promise.)
Bucky’s fresh out of the shower, getting ready to head out for their monthly Howlies dinner, when he sees his phone flash with an unread message. He can’t help but smile when he sees that it’s from Tony, but frowns, instantly worried, when it reads: are you busy right now?
They’ve been careful around and with each other the last few months, developing a schedule they both feel comfortable with, and rarely deviate from. They meet up twice a week, once to go out and do something with TJ—playgrounds, museums and exhibits, the zoo, feeding the ducks in the small park by Tony’s apartment—and once to have dinner together, as a family, and give Bucky the chance to be part of TJ’s bedtime routine. They text, a lot, and call each other on the days they don’t meet up, talking about everything and nothing for hours, trying to figure out where they stand, and where to go from there.
Tony texting him something like this is highly unusual, and Bucky’s hit call before he’s even fully aware of opening his contacts, nervously chewing his bottom lip as he waits for the call to connect.
“Hey,” Tony says when he picks up, sounding a little stressed, but not like something terrible is happening. “Sorry to spring this on you, but are you free tonight? One of my clients is having some issues with their servers, and, well, it’s kind of a mess, and they’re freaking out about it. It’ll take me two, three hours to fix, tops, but I don’t really want to take TJ to the office with me if I can avoid it. He’s had his bath already, and he wants PB&J sandwiches for dinner—”
“Jam!” TJ screeches happily, somewhere in the background.
“—so you wouldn’t even have to cook,” Tony finishes. Then, to TJ, he adds, “Don’t yell, please.”
“Sorry!” TJ yells, from wherever he is in the apartment.
(Watch out for the break, mobile readers!)
Tony sighs, and Bucky clears his throat to cover a laugh. “‘S fine, Tony. You know I love seein’ you. The two of you, both of you.”
Bucky winces at the slip-up, but Tony either doesn’t notice, or is nice enough to not point it out. They both know that Bucky’s still as gone on Tony as he was almost four years ago, but Tony is quick to change the subject whenever they get too close to the feelings territory. He’s obviously struggling, working up to something big, but Bucky isn’t going to push. That never works with Tony, anyway, and Bucky might be pining, but he’s also genuinely happy to have Tony back in his life as a friend and co-parent.
They hang up after Bucky promises to come right over, much to TJ’s obvious—and loud—delight. He sends a message to the Howlies group chat once he’s caught a cab, and only feels a little guilty for cancelling on them last minute. They’re his brothers, and he loves them all dearly, but he also remembers the way they’d been suspicious and dismissive of Tony right from the start, without a discernible reason. The only one of his friends who’d genuinely liked Tony had been Peggy, and she’s also the only one who knows some of what’s been happening in Bucky’s life lately.
TJ is bouncing off the walls when Bucky arrives, clearly excited about the change to his evening plans. Tony shoots Bucky an apologetic look on his way out, then kisses TJ’s head and reminds him to be good.
They have the promised PB&J sandwiches for dinner, and some yoghurt with sliced bananas for dessert. Afterwards, TJ asks for a story, so they curl up on the couch together, and Bucky reads him Daddy’s Boots. Tony had originally bought the book in an attempt to help TJ understand Bucky’s long absence—they both agree that TJ doesn’t need to know everything just yet, especially the messy details of their breakup—but it has become one of TJ’s favourites by now, only ever to be read to him by Bucky.
“Someone’s tired,” Bucky teases, when TJ yawns for the third time in about as many minutes. “Time for bed, huh?”
“No,” TJ whines, flopping across Bucky’s lap, but promptly yawns again. “‘Nother story, please?”
Bucky pretends to consider for a few seconds, but has to laugh at TJ’s upside down pouty face. “Teeth and pyjamas first.”
TJ scrambles off the couch, whooping, with Bucky following more sedately, chuckling quietly under his breath. He empties the dishwasher and puts everything away, then reloads it with their dishes from dinner. He’s wiping down the table when TJ skids into the kitchen, right into Bucky’s legs, decidedly not in his PJs.
“Up, Bucky, up,” he demands, insistently tugging at Bucky’s shirt until Bucky, heaving a sigh, lifts him up onto his hip. “It’s you an’ daddy, look!”
Bucky has to set him down on the counter so he can take the slip of paper TJ’s waving at him, which turns out to be a picture of Bucky and Tony. It’s a selfie they took the morning after the first time Tony had spent the night at Bucky’s; Tony is beaming at the camera, eyes half closed, his whole body turned into Bucky’s chest while Bucky nuzzles him, mouth open against Tony’s cheek, one arm stretched up to take the picture, the other wrapped firmly around Tony.
“Where,” Bucky starts, then has to swallow hard to get rid of the lump in his throat. “Where’d you get this, sweetheart?”
TJ nearly faceplants off the counter in his eagerness. Bucky catches him around the waist, and levels him with a warning look before setting him down more slowly. TJ leads him through the living room, out into the hall, and then vanishes inside Tony’s bedroom. Bucky hesitates on the threshold, because for all that he’s been here once a week over the last three or so months, going into Tony’s bedroom feels intimate, somehow, like he’s intruding.
But then TJ calls, “Bucky, come see,” and Bucky figures he probably should go in, if only to make sure TJ isn’t making a huge mess. Which he isn’t, but he is trying to drag a moving box out of the closet, looking hilariously offended when it doesn’t work, and he lands flat on his butt instead.
“C’mere, lemme help,” Bucky says, lifting it out for him. He feels obligated to ask, “Does your dad know you’re goin’ through his stuff?”
“Yes,” TJ says absently, which is so very clearly a lie, Bucky has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t laugh. He plops down on the floor, and rifles through the contents of the box for a moment before holding something else out to Bucky. “Look, Tesla!”
“Shit,” Bucky blurts, and goes to sit cross-legged next to TJ, taking the pink stuffed bear from him. Belatedly, he warns, “Don’t repeat that, ‘kay?”
“Bad word,” TJ acknowledges, but he’s already back to digging through the box.
Bucky, though, is still reeling, staring down at the teddy in his lap. They’d gone to Coney Island for one of their first dates, spending way too much money on junk food and rigged carnival games. Bucky’d managed to not suck completely at exactly one of them, and won the pink teddy—named Tesla by Tony, because of course—for Tony.
And Tony had kept it. And told TJ about it. Which means—something? Maybe?
The curiosity gets the better of Bucky, and he scoots closer to peer into the box. He’s careful not to lose anything as he moves an envelope overflowing with ticket stubs and receipts aside, and smiles fondly, heart fluttering, when he finds more pictures. He grimaces at the cut out newspaper articles about his alleged death and unlikely rescue months later, but there’s hope underneath the old hurt now, because these mean that Tony thought of him, has kept track of him over the years. He starts to laugh when he comes across one of his favourite v-neck shirts, thought lost years ago, but it dies in his throat when he sees what’s underneath.
Hand shaking, Bucky picks up the small velvet box, stroking his thumb over it, but not opening it yet. He wants to, more than anything, but at the same time, he doesn’t want the confirmation that he lost even more than he’d previously known.
It’s TJ who, after he must have grown bored of watching Bucky’s impending emotional breakdown, opens it for him, and takes out the ring. “Pretty! Bucky, look, it’s pretty,” he coos, turning it over in his fingers. Then he glances up at Bucky, face scrunched up into a confused frown, and asks, “Yours? From daddy?”
And that is what makes Bucky snap. He grabs TJ and gets up, determined to finally get to the bottom of things. Because this isn’t right, none of it is; they’d been happy, him and Tony, they’d talked about moving in together, had even had tentative plans to start a family after Bucky’s last long deployment overseas. Tony had wanted to propose, to marry him, not break up.
Not until their night out with the Howlies, anyway.
Bucky groans, annoyed but not surprised, when the speakers crackle to life to announce that his train has been cancelled. Resigned, he makes his way back up to street level, flipping his collar up against the biting wind. It’s still snowing heavily, like it has been for the last few days, and there isn’t a single cab in sight. Bucky doubts even an Uber would come in this kind of weather.
Grumbling under his breath, he snuggles a little deeper into his coat and starts walking to the café at the end of the block. Steve’s shift ends in an hour and a half, and he can probably be convinced to make a detour and pick Bucky up on his way home, if the subway’s still closed by then.
Bucky’s nose and cheeks are freezing by the time he pushes open the door to the café, and he’s shedding snow everywhere as he takes in the absolutely packed sitting area. Clearly, he isn’t the only one who’s had the idea to wait out the worst of the storm with some much needed caffeine. He has to elbow his way through to the counter—which isn’t easy, given he only has the one elbow—and then wait a good ten minutes for his simple black coffee, but waves away the harassed-looking barista’s apology, and leaves a huge tip.
There aren’t any free tables, of course, but there’s one table with a free armchair, and by this point, Bucky’s more than ready to make awkward small talk if that gets him a seat somewhere warm and dry. Coffee clutched closely against his chest, Bucky slowly winds his way through the crowd, cursing himself for not having ordered a takeaway cup with a lid when he gets jostled left and right.
And, sure enough, just before he reaches his destination, someone bumps into his back, making him stumble and his coffee slosh around dangerously. The person starts apologising immediately, but Bucky barely hears any of it, too focused on the voice itself; it’s familiar, and so is the scent that hits him a moment later.
Bucky whirls around, heedless of his coffee, and there’s Tony. Bucky’s breath catches, and Tony cuts himself off mid-word, eyes growing wide. They stare at each other for a long, loaded moment, which is only broken when Tony suddenly glances over Bucky’s shoulder, his whole body going tense.
(Watch out for the break, mobile readers!)
Frowning, Bucky follows Tony’s gaze, heart skipping a beat when he sees what Tony’s looking at. Or who, rather. Nestled into the armchair Bucky had thought empty is a boy with Tony’s tousled brown hair, watching them curiously with the same pale grey eyes Bucky sees in the mirror every morning.
He’s startled out of his staring when Tony springs back into motion, and moves over to the boy, pushing some papers and crayons out of the way before setting down a napkin with a muffin on it. “Where’s your juice?” he asks, and rolls his eyes when the boy gestures at the floor. Sippy cup retrieved, cleaned, and back on the table, Tony kisses the top of the boy’s head, then brushes a hand through his air. “Eat your muffin, buddy. Daddy’s just going to talk to a friend real quick, okay?”
The boy nods absently, already tearing into his food. Tony straightens back up, and takes a deep, visible breath before heading back to Bucky.
“What’s his name?” Bucky asks quietly.
“Theo,” Tony says, equally quiet. He wraps his arms around himself self-consciously. “Theodore James.”
Bucky has to set his coffee down at that so he has his hand free to cover his eyes for a moment. As if seeing the one person he never got over again wasn’t complicated enough already, now there’s also a kid involved. Bucky’s kid. Bucky has a kid, with Tony. The love of his life. Fucking Christ.
“I didn’t know about TJ,” Tony says, staring down at his feet. “Back when—back then.”
There’s a big part of Bucky that wants to be angry, furious even, but it feels wrong to aim it at Tony. Who became a parent at twenty, who went through pregnancy and the first years of raising a kid presumably all on his own, with the other dad first deployed half a world away, and then a POW for months.
Still. “I would’ve helped,” Bucky says, clenching his hand into a fist to keep himself from reaching out. “You gotta know that, Tony. Don’t matter that we’re broken up, that’s—that’s my son. I’d do anythin’ for him, I would.”
Tony doesn’t look at him. “I know.”
“Then why—”
“Howard would have loved it,” Tony interrupts, laughing harshly. “He had this whole plan laid out, all ready to go. The omega heir to the Stark legacy and the decorated alpha soldier, the perfect all-American military couple. Our PR department’s wet dream, you would have hated it.”
“Sure, yeah, that sounds fuckin’ shitty,” Bucky allows, because that much is true. “But you—you and my kid, you woulda been worth it.”
Tony shakes his head, mouth twisting. “I wasn’t going to be your ball and chain—”
“C’mon, Tony, you know that’s bullshit, I—”
“Well, your friends didn’t seem to think so,” Tony snaps, and then immediately pales, like he’s said too much.
Bucky frowns. “What’re you talkin’ about? I don’t—”
“It’s nothing, forget it, it’s fine.” Tony looks relieved beyond measure when his phone beeps. He quickly checks the message, then turns to TJ. “Uncle Rhodey’s here. Let’s put on your coat, baby.”
Bucky is summarily ignored while Tony dresses his—their, shit, that will take some getting used to—kid, and he’s obviously not going to start a fight or make a scene when Tony stands back up with TJ perched on his hip.
He’s not above smiling and waving at TJ, though. TJ jams the fingers of one hand into his mouth, but waves back with the other before curling it into Tony’s jacket. There’s chocolate from his muffin smeared all around his mouth, he’s got crayon smudges on his cheek, and is obviously tired, rubbing at his eyes with his spit-covered fingers. Bucky adores him already.
Bucky has no idea what kind of expression he’s wearing when he looks back at Tony, but something in Tony’s face softens when he sees it. He jostles TJ so he can fish his phone back out of his pocket, and holds it out to Bucky.
“I’m not—this isn’t—ugh,” he huffs, nose scrunched up. “I’m sorry. I’ll call you? Tonight?”
“Yes, yeah. Please,” Bucky says, and then he can’t resist any longer. He squeezes Tony’s shoulder, just for a second, and tugs playfully at TJ’s foot. “‘M lookin’ forward to it.”
Tony doesn’t say anything else, but he does give Bucky a brief, shy smile before the door closes behind him and TJ.
A lot of you are (eagerly and impatiently) waiting for the next two chapters of The Long Way Round after yesterday’s cliffhanger, and I have good news; they’re coming soon.
