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Astronomy In Reverse

Chapter 25: And Suddenly, I See You

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It feels like the last warm day of autumn when they visit Becca’s grave for the first time.

Autumn in New York should be cold, dreary and pissing down rain, but it’s not—it’s bright and sunny and almost too warm for the jacket Bucky’s wearing. It’s a beautiful day. It doesn’t make the occasion any easier, but… he’s still glad that the first time he sees his baby sister’s tombstone, it’s warm beneath the light of the sun.

She had purchased a plot beside their parents. Bucky’s throat closes up when he notices the very obvious, almost foreboding space left open for him. His own grave, he knows, is probably still standing at the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial, beside Steve’s, bodiless as they were the day they were erected.

He was never meant to be buried here, he realizes with no small amount of grief. He doesn’t belong beside his parents and sister. Their family plot. As morbid as it is, he’s glad that Becca is here, with their mother and father. That at least, in the very end, she got to be with their family.

He lays flowers on her grave and runs his human hand over the letters of her name.

“You’re probably the only person in the world who wouldn’t be surprised that Steve followed me seventy years into the future,” he tells her. “I hope you found your happiness the way I found mine, Bebbie.”

Steve lets out a quiet, fond chuckle. “She always hated that nickname.”

“How do you get ‘Bebbie’ out of ‘Becca’?” Peter asks.

The memory makes Bucky smile. He can see it, clearer every day, little toddler Becca waddling up to him, arms out-stretched. How he would take her outside to play on days just like this one, show her off to the adoring pedestrians outside their Brooklyn estate, her bubbly, incoherent murmuring as she tried to tell them her own name: Bebba. Bebb-uhhh.

He’s not sure when Bebbie followed after Bebba, but it stuck with her right until the day Bucky left for war. She didn’t take nearly as kindly to her nickname as he took to ‘Bucky.’

I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, he thinks, palm flat over her name. I miss you, kiddo.

He stands and drapes his metal arm over Peter’s shoulders, holding the kid tight to him. “I know you’d remember Steve, even if you wouldn’t recognize him now that he’s all tall and muscular—but he and I are, uh, together, finally. Took us long enough, hey?”

Steve’s shoulder nudges against his. Bucky leans into him, receptive.

“And this, Becca… this is your nephew.” His hand squeezes Peter’s shoulder, firm and fond. “My son, Peter.”

“Hey Aunt Becca,” Peter says, his tone sad, but his smile soft and gentle. “Dad’s told me a lot about you. Thanks for always trying to keep him out of trouble. He told me you always took really good care of him.”

God. Why is that, of all things, the thing that makes bitter tears sting his eyes?

“I know you’re already at peace, but… I wanted to tell you, you don’t need to worry about him, Aunt Becca.” Peter crouches down, like Bucky just was, pressing his hand over the sun-warmed stone. “Dad’s been through a lot… but I promise, I’ll take care of him. So wherever you are, you can rest easy, okay?” He sounds so sincere. Not a hint of disingenuousness in his voice, though he didn’t even know Becca. “I’m following in your footsteps. I’ll take care of Dad and keep him safe. I promise.”

You already do, Bucky thinks, the thought popping into his head stubbornly, like it has a mind of its own. More than you could ever know.

He lets Steve pull him in when a warm hand wraps around his waist, drawing him to the other man’s side. It’s only then that he’s made aware of the tears dampening his cheeks. He knows it’s not, but when Peter stands, sees the look on his face and immediately embraces him, and Bucky wraps his arms tight around the boy’s shoulders and holds him to his chest, well—for a moment, he swears it’s Becca’s arms that hug him back, fierce and unyielding, clinging to him desperately; the goodbye hug that they never got to have.



“Come on, Dad,” Peter whines, tugging at his sleeve incessantly. “Just one look. I won’t even take it apart.”

Bucky scowls to trample down on the smile that’s trying to stretch across his face. “No, Peter.”

“But it’s so cool!”

“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Tony says, snapping a pair of pliers at him ominously. “We’re professionals. Well, I am, at least. We’ll be gentle.”

Bucky throws the man a glare over the island counter. “ No. No to all three of you, it’s not happening. Shuri would kill me.”

“She doesn’t have to know!” Peter says, but he’s smiling, so Bucky knows he’s already accepted that he isn’t winning this fight, and is arguing just to be a brat.

It’s absolutely Tony’s influence.

“Just one peek,” Tony says. He’s pleading, but has a way of sounding like he’s not. “We’ll be in and out before you know it. Cross my heart.”

Ned claps his hands together and peers up at him with wide, begging eyes. “Pleeeease, Peter’s Dad?”

Bucky frowns at Ned and then points his spatula at Tony, accusing. “Look what you did. Stop corrupting the children and go find something else to tinker with. My arm is off-limits.” As if on cue, Steve comes through the front door then, smiling at the four of them with his arms full of grocery bags. “Steve, take the kids for a walk or something. I’m trying to make dinner here.”

Steve chuckles and joins him in the kitchen, setting the groceries down and ruffling Peter’s hair fondly. “Okay, guys. Everybody out of the kitchen. You should know better than to hound somebody who’s so… well-armed.”

Peter and Ned groan like they’ve been sucker-punched. Tony looks wonderfully angry. Bucky just rolls his eyes, but fails at keeping the grin completely off his face when Steve laughs loudly at the collective outrage of the other three.

“I mean it. Everyone out on the count on three, or I’ll grab The World’s Punniest Dad Jokes from the bookshelf.”

“Tactical retreat,” Tony announces, helping Steve to shepherd the boys out into the living room, like he wasn’t the one who instigated the whole thing.

Bucky mouths a silent thank you to Steve, who smiles and blows him a kiss. Dork. But it does put a dopey smile on his face as he turns back to the stove and finishes cooking.

Friday nights at the Barnes-Rogers household have become a lot more lively, especially since Tony came back into the fold. They seem to have a full house almost every week, which should feel like an overwhelming, drastic change for Bucky, but… it’s nice.

It’s really nice.

It’s nice seeing Peter happy. He’s still the same cheerful, bubbly kid he’s always been, but Bucky can tell he feels truly content on nights like this one, surrounded by his parents and his idol and his best friend, all coming together to spend an evening joking and laughing and eating, united by how much they love him. 

Sometimes, Bucky wonders if he will ever face a problem that can’t be solved by how much he—and everyone else—loves that boy.

He seriously doubts it.

Just as he’s putting the final touches on their meal, Steve stomps back into the kitchen with a frustrated sigh and says, “Buck, tell Tony he’s gone way too far this time.”

Tony’s footsteps pad into the room behind Steve’s, so Bucky idly says without turning around, “Tony, you’ve probably gone way too far this time.”

The man huffs, indignant. “You don’t even know what I did.”

“No, but knowing you, it was excessive and uncalled for.”

Silence hangs ominously. Bucky turns and raises one eyebrow at the two men, Tony looking reproachful, Steve frowning at him with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Wow,” Bucky says. “All right, seriously, what did you do?”

Steve doesn’t take his eyes off Tony. “He bought us a ranch.”

“A…” Bucky starts, his brain stuttering to a halt. “A what?

“For the last time, Rogers, I did not buy you a ranch,” Tony snaps, narrowing his eyes up at Steve. “I bought you the horses. The ranch is just to house them.”

“That’s—that’s the same thing!” Steve says, his voice rising two whole octaves. Wow. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t put our names on the deed, Tony, you bought an entire ranch to house three very expensive animals which were already way too big of a gift. Stop carelessly spending your money on these things or I swear, I’m going to go bald from the stress.”

“Steve, there’s no way to say this without sounding like a dick, but I’ve literally made back twice the amount of money I spent on this just within the four minutes we’ve spent talking about it. I’m a billionaire. It’ll take a lot more than an extravagant gift now and then to bankrupt me.”

Bucky’s head spins. He feels like he’ll only get more lost if he doesn’t intervene, so he lifts a hand and says, “Can—can we rewind here, for a second? Please?”

Both men turn to look at him. Steve looks expectant, but Tony looks ready to keep arguing. Bucky’s brain is still trying to catch up.

“Tony… why did you randomly buy us horses?”

The man looks at him like he just asked how many days are in a week, seemingly stunned by the stupidity.

“You guys went riding before, remember? Back in Montana?”

“Well… yes,” Bucky says, “but that’s no reason to go out and buy us our own horses. We were planning to find a stable that offers trail riding once we were completely settled in—you didn’t need to do this.”

“Well, now you don’t need to find a stable,” Tony says, like it’s obvious. “Peter mentioned a couple weeks back that he wanted to go again, so, you know, I thought I’d surprise him.” He turns to Steve and almost… pouts. “I figured you might complain if I left them tied up to your railing outside, so the ranch was kind of necessary. I won’t apologize.”

Steve rubs his forehead, visibly frustrated. “Tony, no, we’re grateful, it’s just—that’s a huge gift to arbitrarily throw into a conversation like that. I’m still processing.”

“Well, Cap, the horses aren’t going anywhere, so I kind of think you can take all the time you need.”

“Really though, Tony,” Bucky says, his voice dropping low, to a near-whisper, so the boys can’t hear from the living room. “You’re already helping me out so much with… you-know-what. That in itself is a huge gift. We don’t want you to feel obligated to spend your money on us. We’re doing all right.”

“And you shouldn’t buy Peter everything he says he wants,” Steve adds. “Not to say that I think he’d become spoiled or greedy, it’s just, it’s not a good habit to get into. If you absolutely have to buy people things, save it for birthdays and holidays, okay? It’d just be better for all involved.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Tony throws his hands up in surrender, conceding. “I yield. You guys win. No more big gifts after the horses and you-know-what.”

Bucky and Steve sigh in unison. “Thank you, Tony,” Bucky says.

The smile Tony gives him might just be the fondest, most genuine one Bucky’s ever seen on his face. “Don’t mention it, Bucko.”



Bucky and Steve let Tony break the news to Peter that he bought them their own horses, who shares his fathers’ reactions of being completely shocked and more than a little overwhelmed. Then Tony off-handedly mentions that they’re the very same horses the trio rode during their little adventure back in Montana, and Peter switches from dumbstruck to downright thrilled in the fraction of a nanosecond.

“You bought Andromeda?” he asks hopefully, practically vibrating with excitement.

Tony looks put out, but Bucky knows it’s a farce. “And Britney Spurs. And the other one, whatever the hell his name was, David Hasselhoof.”

Peter’s nose scrunches up at the pun. “I don’t think that was it.”

“Well, regardless.” Tony shrugs. “The three you guys rode are the three that I bought.”

“You should get one too, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, eyes bright at the idea. “Then we could all go riding together!”

Tony looks like he would rather walk through dog shit. “No thanks, kiddo. Lumbering around on farm animals can be your idea of a good time. I’ll be inside sipping scotch by the fire.”

“Just be grateful he’s coming with us, Pete,” Bucky says, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Apparently it’s a miracle he’s willing to go on vacation somewhere that isn’t tropical and sunny in the first place.”

“You’re damn right it is,” Tony scoffs. “You’re lucky it’s volcano season in Hawaii or I’d be in the middle of the Pacific ocean right now.”

Peter laughs joyously and shakes his head. “Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works, but okay.”

Bucky smiles as the two banter back and forth, relaxing fully into Steve’s side, cuddled up on the couch. It’s been a bit hectic planning for their trip to New Jersey to stay at Tony’s new ranch, mostly because of all the other little things that are going into making it a special occasion, but the day is steadily approaching and Bucky already knows it will all be worth it.

Steve presses a lingering kiss against his temple, gesturing to the pamphlet he’s been focused on for several minutes, now. “Liberty Science Center has a planetarium and an interactive exhibit we could stop by on the way.”

Both Tony and Peter’s heads snap up at the suggestion.

“Yeah!” Peter grins, eyes twinkling. “Can we? We totally should!”

Tony’s voice is dry but undeniably teasing as he says, “Pretty sure they’ll insist on waiting until it’s posthumous before they let us donate you to their exhibit, Cap.”

Steve doesn’t look away from his reading as he gently tosses a throw pillow at the man’s head.

Bucky chuckles but doesn’t tear his eyes away from the pamphlet’s photos of the planetarium. It looks a lot like the one he took Peter to on his fifteenth birthday—he supposes that makes sense, they’re all the same stars, after all—so for a moment he isn’t sure the boy will enjoy it as much as he enjoyed it the first time.

But when he looks up, Peter is peering at him with wide, eager, pleading eyes, so Bucky grins and says to Steve, “I think the planetarium is a great idea.”

The beaming smile his son gives him seals the deal.



“Christ, Barnes, would you please relax? I’m telling you, everything is going to be fine.

Tony sounds confident, as confident as he always does, but that doesn’t do Bucky’s nerves any good. He can’t stop the tremor in his leg no matter how hard he tries. He’s nervous. Scared shitless, really, if he’s being completely honest.

“I can’t help it,” he says, leg bouncing anxiously. “This is it, Tony.”

Tony sighs and rubs both hands over his face. “Bucky, I’ve greased the wheels on this thing so thoroughly that it would take divine intervention to put the brakes on it now. It’s happening. We only have to wait, like, ten more minutes. It’s going to be fine.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Bucky nods, elbows braced atop his knees and hands clasped together. He knows Tony is right—almost every person in Bucky’s life jumped at the chance to make this thing happen, and they’re some of the most renowned, respected, and trustworthy people in the entire world—so regardless of Bucky’s exonerated status and general infamy, there really is, on paper, no reason for his application to be denied.

Tony’s money helped too, somewhere along the line, he’s sure. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that Tony paid off anyone who felt they needed to voice their concerns, but even still, doubt and anxiety fester in him.

“God, Tony. Being in court didn’t terrify me as much as this does.” He winces the moment the words leave his mouth, wishing he could instantly take them back. Tony’s face doesn’t change, but his shoulders are a little tighter, his hands clenched a little more firmly around his biceps. He doesn’t like to be reminded of that day, Bucky knows. He feels like a dick. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” The man waves him off. “I’m sure this particular sort of prenatal panic is tough to contend with. Just keep your head on. They’re not going to deny it. But if they do, we can appeal. You have billionaires, living legends, literal kings and scary-looking automotive dealership owners vouching for you. They’re gravely outmatched.”

He can’t help but smile. “If I spent the rest of my life trying, I could never tell you how grateful I am for all that you’ve done for me.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“I want to,” Bucky insists. “No, don’t roll your eyes at me, damn it Tony—I want to sweat it. I want you to know how grateful I am to have met you, and for everything you’ve done—none of this would have been remotely possible without you, and on top of everything, you’re here with me now despite how much I made you suffer, and I need you to know what it means. To me. And to Steve, and most of all to Peter. So just… thank you.”

“Yeah, okay, you’re welcome,” Tony says, adding stress to each word, clearly deeply uncomfortable. “Look. I’m not saying you and I and Steve never need to have this conversation, I’m just—first of all, cards on the table? I’m not there yet. I’m working on it. I’m just fucking sick of being angry all the time, okay? It’s exhausting.”

Sure enough, when he moves his hand from his eyes, they suddenly look darker, the skin underneath them almost bruised, like just this conversation has completely taken the wind out of Tony’s sails.

“I don’t want to resent you and Steve. That’s it. Does that mean I’m going to force myself to forgive and forget? No. But every minute I spend keeping my distance from the two of you out of anger is another minute I spend away from that kid, who is family to me now, whether you like it or not. We can do the whole… groveling-thanks-and-apologies routine later, Bucky. When I can handle it. This cramped, musty office is not the place for it and it sure as hell isn’t the time, either.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, smiling when Tony seems to sag in relief. “It’s your call, Tony. Am I at least allowed to thank you for bringing me to said cramped, musty office?”

There’s no meanness in it, but Bucky knows Tony isn’t holding any of his punches when he stares off into the middle-distances and says, “I didn’t do it for you.”



Bucky doesn’t know how to pack it.

It’s not that it’s big or bulky or oddly-shaped, because it’s none of those things, it’s just… weirdly heavy. Not literally; the thing weighs absolutely nothing, but when he tries to pack it alongside his clothes and toiletries, suddenly his bag feels like it holds an atomic bomb, the sheer fragility of its contents turning the entire package into a delicate, breakable thing.

He doesn’t wrap it, because he knows they have several stops to make before they get to the ranch, and he figures he can get Steve or Tony to distract Peter long enough for him to sneak away and secretly buy some wrapping paper. Maybe even a frame. At least he would feel better dragging it around if he knew it was shielded behind a pane of glass. The way it is now, tucked away in nothing but an envelope, makes Bucky anxious to let his bag out of his sight.

“Are you all right, Buck?”

Bucky turns to look at Steve, standing in the doorway of their bedroom, watching him. He supposes he does look a little frazzled; frozen in the middle of their room, hands anxiously tight around the straps of his backpack, staring off into space with a worried expression. Even if he weren’t being so obvious, he’s sure Steve would be able to tell how tense he is just by looking at him.

He doesn’t bother trying to lie about it. “I’m scared shitless, Stevie.”

Steve’s open, heartfelt expression eases some of the anxiety swirling in his gut. The man approaches him slowly, hand outstretched to gently stroke down Bucky’s right arm. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice deep and warm and soothing. “Come here.”

He wraps his arms around Bucky, holding him. It’s a firm embrace but it’s exactly what Bucky needs right now—warm and solid and as dependable as the ground beneath his feet. He sighs and tucks his face against Steve’s throat, takes a deep breath of that familiar, comforting scent.

“I know he’ll be happy,” Bucky murmurs against Steve’s skin, “but I’m still worried that he won’t.”

Steve kisses his hair, nods to show he’s listening.

Doubt claws at Bucky’s insides. “Do you think he’s changed his mind?”

That makes Steve huff out a breathless laugh. “Not a chance in hell, Buck.”

“What about you?”

The arms holding him loosen just a hair. He can hear the confusion in the man’s voice when he asks, “What about me?”

Bucky lifts his head from the cook of the man’s neck and gazes into his eyes. “Have you changed your mind?”

“About our family?” Steve asks, tone dripping with so much disbelief that it brings a smile to Bucky’s face. Yeah, that’s fair. That’s what he gets for letting his anxiety ask stupid questions. “Bucky, I love you and our son more than anything else in the whole world. I haven’t changed my mind about a single thing.”

He feels a bit like a lovesick teenager when his heart thunders in his chest.

For as long as he can remember, that’s the first time Steve’s ever told him he loves him.

“I love you too,” he says, and grins, sort of wanting to cry but blushing too hard and smiling too wide to let the tears come. “I don’t know if I ever told you this, but I’m really glad you found us, Steve. You’ve always made everything you touch better, and we were no exception.” He runs his hands over Steve’s shoulders, drawing the man closer to him. “I’m sorry for not saying it sooner, but thank you for breaking into my apartment.”

Steve laughs, giving his head a shake before pulling Bucky into a tender, chaste kiss. He cups Bucky’s face with both hands and barely pulls away as he says, voice low and gentle, “I’m glad I found you too, Buck. I knew I would. I wasn’t going to stop until I did.” Their noses softly brush together as Steve keeps his face a hair’s breadth away from his own. “But I had no idea we’d someday have this. A home. A family. That I could finally call you mine.”

His thumbs rub gentle circles over his cheekbones, reverent. “I didn’t even dare to let myself dream it, Bucky. And now I get to sleep holding you in my arms every night, two rooms away from our perfect son. Some days I wake up thinking it all has to be a cruel joke. That any minute, I’ll get sucked back into reality, because it can’t possibly be real that I get to have this life.”

“I know what you mean,” Bucky says, because he does. “I’ve had that exact same thought more times than I can count since the day Peter and I met. This kind of happiness… the warmth and intensity of it…” he swallows, lowering his gaze from Steve’s searching, impossibly blue eyes. “It feels like more than I could ever deserve, so how can it possibly be real?”

Steve cups his cheeks and solemnly says, “I think we might have some self-worth issues, pal.”

It shocks a laugh out of Bucky that breaks the budding tension of the moment. He shakes his head and leans into Steve a little harder, chuckling. “My therapist tells me the same thing.”

“Maybe we can work on that together. What do you say?”

Bucky hums deep in his throat, his eyes slipping closed.

Together.

Yeah. Together works for him.



Once Steve’s put the thought into his head, Peter is completely sold on the idea of stopping by the planetarium on their way to the ranch. Bucky can’t help but tease him for being more excited about the museum than he is about getting to ride his very own horse for an entire weekend getaway, but Peter just laughs and swears that he is very excited about the horseback riding too, Dad, cross my heart.

Tony hadn’t wanted to carpool with them, so Peter had offered to keep him company during the drive down. Bucky doesn’t even feel the urge to sulk over Peter choosing not to ride with them—the quiet drive with Steve is nice, and the weight of his overnight bag’s contents still looms heavily all around him, so he’s actually somewhat grateful for the extra space right now.

He knows he’s going to be an anxious mess until all is said and done.

And more than anything, he doesn’t want Peter to suspect a thing.

Tony’s car is already parked and vacant when they pull up to the museum. Bucky hesitates for way too long as Steve exits their car, his mind racing, the anxiety swelling in his gut. He should leave it. It will be fine here, it’s not an actual bomb, and nothing is going to happen to it while they’re in there, he knows that.

But somehow, the thought of leaving it in the backseat, unattended, for hours on end makes him feel sick.

It means too much to him.

So he grabs his backpack before following Steve out of the car, slinging it onto his back and hoping it doesn’t make him stand out more than being seen with Iron Man and Captain America already does.

Peter doesn’t question it when he sees him, and that’s really all that matters to Bucky. He’s already riveted to some groundbreaking feat of technological innovation, rambling back and forth with an equally-eager (though much better at hiding it) Tony. It takes the four of them a while to make it through the interactive exhibit, and even longer to follow every one of Peter’s wide-eyed whims before they finally reach the planetarium.

As hard as he tries, Bucky just can’t concentrate on the exhibits, bright and colorful and interesting as they are.

All he can concentrate on is the impossible weight on his back, and the carefree smile on Peter’s face.

I have to tell him, he thinks to himself, sick with nerves. It gets worse every time he looks in Peter’s direction, sees that wide, joyful smile on his adorable little face. He can’t lose his composure now, not when he and Steve worked so hard on The Plan, spent hours and hours whispering conspiratorially on how to break the news.

The Plan. He needs to stick to The Plan. They’re going to the ranch, the four of them, even Tony’s in on the big idea. Bucky’s worked too hard and planned things too carefully to screw it all up now, just because he’s anxious for reasons that don’t even make sense to him.

But God, it’s hard to even look at Peter knowing he doesn’t know.

Steve, face buried in a pamphlet about the documentary they’re playing in the planetarium’s theater, follows blindly behind Tony and Peter as they go through the double doors and into the dark, densely-seated room, too absorbed to notice the way Bucky is lagging behind with every step.

He only makes it to the doors before he stops. I have to tell him.

Fuck, he’s a mess. He needs a moment, he realizes, his heart racing. Just… just a moment to himself, to calm the coiling anxiety in his gut and get his shit together. He slips away while the other three relax into their seats, back through the theater doors and down the painted travel path, until he enters a large, dark dome.

It’s startling enough that, for a moment, nothing else exists.

The room has to be almost a hundred feet across. He had thought the planetarium he took Peter to on his fifteenth birthday had been huge, and technologically impressive, but this one—it’s massive, and every inch of the curved walls and ceiling are dotted with literally trillions of stars—brighter and more vibrant than any sky Bucky has ever seen, even back in Montana, in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

He can see every galaxy, every constellation, even the ones he can’t name. It’s overwhelming in its beauty and shocking in its sheer size. Bucky has never felt smaller, or more inconsequential, than he does standing beneath all those stars.

At least, he did, until a tiny hand gently cups his own, and a soft, worried voice breaks him from his thoughts. “Dad?”

Bucky whirls around, eyes wide, widening even more when they land on Peter’s concerned face. “Are you okay?” he asks, quiet enough that no one else around them can hear. “I thought maybe you just went to the bathroom or something, but you didn’t come back…” Peter’s eyes search his own, no doubt spotting every speck of worry Bucky feels. “What’s wrong?”

It’s not a lie when Bucky takes a deep breath and says, “Nothing’s wrong, Pete.”

The boy clearly doesn’t believe him. His dark gaze flickers over Bucky’s face, like if he stares long enough, he’ll be able to see every little thing that Bucky is trying to hide.

The concern in his voice absolutely breaks Bucky’s heart.

“Then why do you look so sad?”

He can’t help but laugh, the ridiculousness of the whole thing catching up to him. Sad. Peter thinks he’s sad, on today of all days, when it couldn’t be further from the actual truth.

“I wanted things to be perfect,” he confesses with a sigh, a resigned smile crossing his face. Peter stares at him in confusion, clearly totally lost. “I’m sorry. The truth is, I’ve been wanting to turn this weekend into a make-up birthday party for you, since I wasn’t here to celebrate you turning sixteen.”

“Dad,” Peter says, gently, “you and Pops weren’t exactly subtle. I mean, you guys packed two full birthday cakes into the cooler before we left. I sort of figured out this was a birthday thing, like, three weeks ago.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky says, grinning in spite of himself, “maybe we weren’t exactly slick with the whole birthday angle, but, I still wanted it to be a surprise. We had it all figured out, even Tony was in on it. Everything was set up to go according to The Plan, but… I can’t do it like this, Peter.”

Peter looks at him like he’s speaking in tongues. “Can’t do what like what?”

“I can’t keep carrying this around, knowing you don’t know about it,” he says, gesturing to his backpack, which he slides off his shoulder and delicately lowers to the floor. “I wanted it to be a surprise, something I could gift you with seemingly out of nowhere, but… after everything we’ve been through, and everything it took to get to this point, I can’t do it, Pete. I’m sorry for ruining the surprise element of this, but I can’t go one more minute with you not knowing.”

“Not knowing what?” Peter asks, confusion and fear clear as day on his face.

Bucky inhales slowly, the deep breath before the plunge, and unzips his backpack to retrieve the innocuous, immeasurably valuable envelope from inside. He hands it to Peter wordlessly, watches with rapt attention and endless fondness as the boy timidly pulls it open, hand reaching inside to grasp the single piece of laminated paper it holds.

Peter’s eyes dance quickly over the page, widening when the meaning of it finally sinks in.

A smile spreads across Bucky’s face as he gently takes the boy’s hand and says, answering him a moment later, “That you’re mine.”

The boy’s gaze flickers between Bucky’s face and the adoption certificate in his hand, speechless. He doesn’t look upset, not really, but the anxiety is still coursing violently through Bucky and he can’t help but ask, “Are you mad that I just went ahead and did it? That I didn’t ask you first?”

“Mad?” Peter repeats softly, like the word is alien to him. He doesn’t take his eyes off the certificate, like he’s scared the words will change if he looks away. “Does this—is this—is this real? It’s, like, it’s an actual—it’s—”

“It’s real,” Bucky says, smiling softly. “Tony helped me expedite the process. It took some legwork since he was technically already your caregiver, but… We got it all straightened out. It’s real, Peter.” He gently grabs the boy’s shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. “From now on, it won’t just be a cover when I call you my son. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, I’m your dad.”

He already was, he has been for the majority of the time they’ve been together and they both know it, but—it’s different, seeing it on paper, holding the proof right in front of them. It’s different knowing that, officially, Bucky and Peter are father and son and nothing can ever change that now.

Tears fill the boy’s eyes, but he still doesn’t look away from the piece of paper in his hands. “You’re my dad.”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Bucky says. “I’m your dad.”

Peter looks up at him, the tears falling down his cheeks.

And throws himself into Bucky’s arms.

Bucky embraces him firmly, pulls the boy flush against him and wraps him in his arms. His boy. Finally, when he says that, when he thinks it, it’s no longer sort of a lie. He never has to feel guilty about calling Peter that ever again. After nearly two years of dreaming about it, he can finally be the father he’s wanted to be to this child, that identity seen and validated by the world, even if it’s only on paper.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Bucky says, arms tight around the boy’s back, hand gently cupping the back of Peter’s head. “After the application was approved, it was so hard to remember what the hell I was waiting for. I just wanted to tell you. I wanted you to know that now, there’s not a chance of anyone ever trying to separate us.” He presses the side of his face against Peter’s hair, hugs him tighter when the boy sobs. “You’re mine. You’re my kid, Peter.”

“Thank you,” Peter says, clutching onto him for all he’s worth. “Thank you. Thank you, Dad. F-for wanting me. For s-staying with me, like you said you would. For keeping your promise.” He buries his face in Bucky’s shoulder, muffling his soft little voice against his jacket. “Thank you for being my Dad.”

Bucky lets his own tears fall as he holds his son tighter. “It’s the best thing that ever happened to me, kiddo. You don’t need to be scared anymore, okay? You’re home.” He pulls away slightly, gently presses their foreheads together. “You’re home.”

Peter takes a shaky, watery breath, but nods in agreement, wiping his wet face on his sleeves as they pull away from each other. He hasn’t let go of his adoption certificate, and Bucky has a feeling the boy will refuse if he offers to take it, so Bucky doesn’t say anything, just quietly waits for his son—God, his son —to compose himself beneath the worried, watchful gazes of the other tourists milling about around them.

Two of those tourists, Bucky realizes when he looks up, he recognizes. Steve is smiling at them from across the dome, hands in his pockets and expression fond. He looks soft, watching them, like he’s observing something so irreplaceable and precious, he can’t bear to interrupt it.

Tony looks a little more uncomfortable next to him, but his eyes fill with concern and affection when he spots what Peter is holding, and the way he kind of looks like he wants to grin and cry at the same time warms Bucky’s heart.

When Peter notices the two of them standing there, he gives an embarrassed little laugh and scrubs his face a bit harder with the back of his sleeve. Steve and Tony seem to take that as permission to join in, and they walk over to them, to where Bucky and Peter are standing beneath the Milky Way, at the edge of this giant black dome that somehow contains the entire universe.


I was a billion little pieces
‘til you pulled me into focus,
Astronomy in reverse—
it was me who was discovered.

“Venus,” Sleeping At Last