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sarahwroteathing · 1 year ago

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It’s the Great Pumpkin, Steve Rogers!

[Art Teacher!Steve Rogers x Single Mom!Reader]

Word Count: 3417

Warnings: single mom reader, chaotic bestie Bucky Barnes

Summary: While painting faces at the local harvest festival, Steve sees you and Charlie outside of school for the first time.

A/N: I’m baaaaaaack! Did ya miss me?

Here’s the previous three installments in the Glitterverse, in case you missed them or need a refresh!

Glitter Cool Kid Table Silver Star

Steve was in the very serious process of adding purple stripes to a charmingly cartoonish spider he’d painted on a little boy’s cheek when the sound of a bright, happy laugh caught his attention. There was nothing too unusual about that, honestly. He liked seeing people happy, whether he knew them or not, and there had been no shortage of happiness at the Harvest Festival so far.

The apple bobbing tent was a pretty reliable source of laughter of the triumphant, self-deprecating, and “No, I swear, I’m not laughing at you” varieties.

The pumpkin carving tables were another happiness hotspot as people giggled over each other’s designs and gave the nervous laughs of people utterly unsure of the sharp implements they were holding.

This particular laugh came from the exit of the corn maze, and Steve did his very best to ignore the little flutter in his chest when he recognized you, cozy and carefree in an oversized sweater and scarf, spinning a giggling Charlie in increasingly wobbly circles until you both fell onto a nearby hay bale.

“We did it!” he heard you shout, raising both arms above your head.

Charlie’s voice was too soft to catch at this distance, but whatever she said made you laugh again and tug her against your side.

“Excuse me? Are you done?”

Steve’s eyes snapped forward again, and he fought a flush of embarrassment as he smiled at the boy who was now starting to squirm restlessly on his stool.

“Sorry, almost,” he said. “One second.”

Steve added one last stripe before setting down his paintbrush and reaching for the small mirror tucked between the paint bottles and paper cups. He held it up with a playful flourish that earned him a giggle.

“What do you think?”

The boy inspected his cheek closely, squinting his eyes for a moment before giving a decisive nod.

“It’s good.”

Steve gave the boy a parting smile as he raced back to his grandfather, who was waiting near the donation table and chatting with Bucky.

The same Bucky Barnes, best friend and bane of his existence, who was now cheerfully waving them off and approaching Steve with such a casual smile that it was immediately suspicious.

“That last one was barely even a masterpiece, Steve. Are you okay? Coming down with something?”

“Still better than you could do,” he said pointedly, rearranging the paint bottles and rinsing off the brushes he’d used.

“Rude. I knew something was going on with you,” Bucky said, plopping himself down on a stool and fixing Steve with an expectant look.

“No, there's not. Now move unless you want me to paint your face.”

“Are you sure you could focus for long enough to paint my face?”

Steve narrowed his eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

Bucky only smiled.

“I have this sixth sense that tells me when scary things are happening. Like when all the birds go quiet. Or the clouds look freaky. Or Steve Rogers stares longingly at a woman.”

“What are you- I wasn’t-”

“You. Staring. Beautiful woman. I saw it.”

And Steve knew full well he was betraying himself by glancing towards you again, but it was an impulse he didn’t have time to suppress. You were at a stall this time, talking cheerfully with a baker, a basket hanging from the crook of your arm and Charlie’s hand in yours.

“I’m not… staring. I just…”

You were laughing again, and the baker, a rosy cheeked older woman, handed a loaf of bread over the table to you with a fond smile.

“Wait, do you know her?” Bucky demanded, recapturing Steve’s attention when he smacked him on the arm.

“I… yeah.”

Now well into October, Steve not only saw you every weekday, he also occasionally texted you on weekends. It was never much, only instigated when one of you happened across something that reminded you of the other person. A picture of the mug of apple cider that Bucky had unceremoniously dumped way too much edible glitter in. A picture of your kitchen table covered in old newspapers to protect it from your and Charlie’s watercolor experiments. It was nothing, really. But it made him happy.

“Her?” Bucky repeated, brows raising as he turned to look over his shoulder at you.

“Ye- Please, stop pointing. Yes.”

“Fluffy sweater, cute kid? Her?”

“Bucky.”

“Looking like she just stepped out of a fairytale with a basket of apples, bread, and what I assume is jars of either honey or jam or both?”

“Why are you freaking out?” Steve sighed.

“Because you didn’t tell me about her!”

Steve pursed his lips. “I wasn’t aware you wanted to hear about all my students’ parents.”

Bucky was thoroughly unamused.

“Steve. You told me when you changed dish soap, but you didn’t tell me that you’re now living a romance novel. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey!” Steve said, wacking him with a roll of paper towels. “Bucky, there are kids.”

“What the fudgesicle is wrong with you?” Bucky repeated in an identical tone.

“My life is not a romance novel. Take it easy. We’re just friends.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” he answered with a humorless laugh. “But you didn’t tell me about her. Which means you’re considering something that you’re not sure you should be considering. And you knew that if you told me, I would easily talk you into it.”

Steve took a moment to process that, glancing over at you again and straightening up in surprise when he caught your eye. You smiled, wide and genuine, raising a hand in a greeting that he quickly mirrored.

“That’s ridiculous,” Steve said quickly when you had turned away again, only half paying attention now because you were talking to Charlie, gesturing in his direction.

“I agree. But I’m right.”

You were walking their way now, and this conversation needed to be over right now.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a pain in the ass?”

“Steven. Please. The children.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the apple?”

“You. Fairly often. And Sam even more often. But luckily his opinion means nothing to me.”

And while there were a hundred things Steve would love to say about that, there wasn’t time.

“Bucky, I swear, we can talk about it for as long as you want later, but right now I need you to act like a normal human being,” he said urgently.

“Is she right behind me?”

“About to be.”

“Fine.”

Bucky plastered on an only slightly manic smile as he turned to greet you.

“Hello! Interested in some face paint?”

You seemed caught off guard by the exuberant greeting, but recovered quickly.

“I think so, yes. How much?”

“Free! But we’re also collecting donations for the Woodbridge Elementary art program.”

“I see,” you said, eyes flickering to Steve for a moment. “Well, we kinda like the art program, don’t we?”

“Yep!” Charlie said, also peeking around Bucky to offer a tiny smile to Steve.

“Alright then. Go ahead and tell Steve what you want, and I’ll take care of the money stuff.”

You followed Bucky a few steps away to the donation table, and Charlie skipped up to him.

“Hi,” she said, waiting for him to pat the open stool before sitting down.

“Hi, Charlie. Know what you want yet, or do you want to look at some pictures?”

“Umm…” Her forehead scrunched a little as she thought. “Can you do a cat with a witch hat? Is that too hard? You can just do a pumpkin if that’s too hard.”

“Well, I think a cat with a witch hat is an awesome idea!” Steve said with a smile. “I’ll do my best, and if it doesn’t turn out right, we can try something else. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” she said with a nod.

Steve set out some clean brushes, a new cup of water, and a clean paper towel.

“What color cat?”

“Orange?”

He nodded, setting up little dixie cups of orange, black, yellow, brown, and green paint.

“Alright, are you ready? It’s going to feel a little cold.”

“I’m ready! I’ll be real still,” she vowed, clenching her hands into determined little fists on her knees.

Steve started with a few dabs of color until Charlie relaxed a little, used to the sensation.

“Are you having fun at the festival?” he asked a few moments later, tracing the outline of a cat on her cheek.

“Yeah! We did the maze without a map! And we got bread for later. Mom’s making spaghetti for dinner!”

“Yum! Do you like spaghetti?”

“It’s my favorite. Mom always makes cheesy bread.”

“Well, this is going to be a good day then, huh? What else are you going to do?”

“Umm, we still have to pick our pumpkins! And, there are these earrings mom really likes over at the corn maze, but she won’t buy them. I think she should buy them.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve glanced over at the stall near the entrance to the corn maze. He’d spoken to that woman before a few times. She was a local artist who liked to make jewelry and print her abstract watercolor art on scarves. “What do they look like?”

“Like shiny green rocks and little gold leaves. She’ll look like a fairy.”

Steve smiled at the admiration in her voice, but before he could say anything, you wandered back over with Bucky.

“Oh my goodness. Charlie, you’re a masterpiece!”

She smiled proudly as Steve added a last little detail to the cat’s witch hat before leaning back.

“All done,” he said, holding up the mirror for her. “What do you think?”

Her eyes widened along with her smile.

“It’s perfect! Thank you!”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Your turn,” Charlie said, hopping up from the stool and nudging you towards it.

“Is that allowed?” you laughed.

“If you want, then of course it is,” Steve said with an easy smile.

You turned to Charlie, smiling at her eager nod.

“Alright then. What should I get?”

“We could match! Or get an even bigger cat. Ooo! A tiger!”

“You heard the lady. One tiger in a witch hat, please,” you laughed, dropping into the stool beside Steve and setting your basket and purse down on the ground beside you.

“Mama, can I get my book?” Charlie asked, eyes on your purse.

“Yeah, of course. Big pocket.”

“There’s an extra chair at the donation table if you don’t mind sitting next to me,” Bucky told her as she liberated her book from your very full purse.

Charlie smiled a little shyly and nodded, following Bucky back to the donation table with a parting wave to you.

“How did I end up with the best kid in the world?” you asked, eyes following Charlie as Steve set up the paints.

“Mm, you and Tony might have to fight about that one.”

“Aw, Morgan is pretty great. I’m surprised she’s not here! It seems like the kind of thing she’d love.”

“They’re coming tomorrow, I think. Don’t be surprised if Pepper calls later to invite Charlie,” Steve said with a smile, dabbing orange paint onto a clean brush. “You ready?”

“Mhmm. Make me pretty, Mr. Rogers.”

“You manage that on your own. I’m just adding a pretty tiger,” he said quietly, fighting down a blush when you glanced at him with surprise.

He cleared his throat.

“Try not to move,” he said, hoping the cold paint would distract you as he began.

“Not moving. One of my favorite activities,” you said with a flicker of a smile.

“For a not-mover, I hear you did pretty great in the corn maze.”

“Oh, that was all Charlie. If it was just me, I’d still be lost in there somewhere. Probably crying.”

Steve laughed.

“I’m sure someone would have saved you eventually.”

“Don’t know about that. I don’t imagine anyone having much sympathy for an adult sobbing alone in a corn maze.”

“Well, fine, then I would’ve saved you,” Steve said, catching an errant wind-blown strand of your hair before it could land in the wet paint. He tucked it gently behind your ear.

Sitting this close to you, he heard your breath catch slightly, saw your blink land a little harder than normal.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “Didn’t want you to get paint in your hair.”

“Already saving me,” you said with a quiet little laugh. “You have a habit of doing that.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“I don’t think I do. Saving someone doesn’t have to be some huge gesture. It can be something like… Cheering me up at an open house. Looking out for Charlie and making her smile every day. Giving someone grumpy a sticker. Being a friend,” you ventured, giving a delicate shrug so as not to move too much.

Steve’s heart gave a little flutter, gave him permission to brush your hair back from your face again, though none of it was in danger of dragging through paint this time.

“I like being your friend.”

“I like it too,” you said quietly.

Steve took a breath, less steady than he would have preferred, as he added one final dab of paint.

“Ready to see?”

“Absolutely.”

You called Charlie back to your side as Steve held up the mirror for you. You beamed at your reflection.

“Love it!”

“Good.”

The three of you exchanged a few more pleasantries before you and Charlie headed off into the crowds again. Bucky wasted no time. They were barely out of earshot when he dropped into the stool in front of Steve with an expectant grin.

“Go away,” Steve sighed. “Unless you want me to paint your face.”

“Oh, sure. Paint little hearts all over it. Then it’ll match yours,” he said smugly.

“Stop.”

“I like being your friend,” Bucky quoted in a dramatic voice. “Do you know how many times you’ve said that to me? None. None times. We’ve been friends since we were five, Steve.”

“Yeah, because I don’t like being your friend. You’re annoying.”

“She’s pretty. She’s nice. She’s fun. She’s not wearing a ring, and she didn’t mention anything about a partner. Her daughter is the chillest kid I’ve ever been around. What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem, Bucky.”

“Then why are you not attached at the lips? Does she have the plague? Do you have the plague?”

“She has a daughter. She doesn’t date.”

That, at least, finally shut Bucky up. He narrowed his eyes, thinking for a moment.

“Did she tell you that?”

“Tony told me that. Not that I asked.”

“And Tony heard it from…?”

“Pepper.”

“Who heard it from…?”

Steve gestured in the direction you’d walked.

“Hmm…”

“She doesn’t feel comfortable bringing men around Charlie.”

“She brings you around Charlie.”

“I’m her art teacher. It’s not the same.”

Bucky tapped restlessly at the table for another moment.

“I’m gonna think about this and get back to you.”

“Oh, please do,” Steve said sarcastically.

“Hey,” Bucky nudged him until he made eye contact, his expression much more serious now. “I mean it. You really like her, don’t you?”

“...Yeah,” Steve said with a helpless shrug. “So I’m happy to be her friend.”

“You really like her,” Bucky repeated firmly. “So we’ll figure it out. Because I’m pretty sure she likes you too.”

“Thanks Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, pushing up from the stool and knocking Steve’s shoulder with a light punch. “There’s a reason you keep me around, you know. Now stop frowning. You’re scaring the children.”

Things returned to business as usual for about an hour. Steve painted a dozen more faces, had just finished a matching set of bumblebees on a tiny redhead and her grandmother when Bucky came jogging over again.

“Go, go, go!” he said urgently, shoving Steve out of his seat.

“What, why? Go where?” Steve asked, barely catching himself before he could hit the ground.

Bucky didn’t answer, grabbing the top of Steve’s head to steer his eyes in the right direction.

You and Charlie were laboring towards the parking lot, Charlie weighed down with a basket, tote bag, and your purse while you were nearly doubled over, rolling an enormous pumpkin across the patchy grass.

“Absolutely not,” he said quietly to himself, dodging around the edge of his table and running your direction.

“Whatcha got there?” he laughed, easily catching up to the two of you.

“The great pumpkin!” Charlie chimed in as you gave another shove to your regretfully chosen and mightily overgrown gourd.

“Are you sure? It’s not even sparkly,” Steve said, squinting speculatively.

“She’s sure,” you said, straightening up for a moment and swiping your hands on your jeans. “So we are escorting him to the car the best way we can. Him?” you asked, glancing at your daughter.

“Him.”

“Him,” you repeated, gesturing matter-of-factly at the pumpkin.

“Got it. And would your giant orange gentleman like another escort to ease his journey?”

You made a face like you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and settled for flinging your arms around him in a loose hug.

“God, please. I will give you all the money in my wallet. I’ll give you my credit card. Would you like my social security number?”

Steve laughed, gently returning your hug for a brief moment before turning to face the pumpkin.

“Alright, pal. Let’s get you where you need to be.”

He squatted low to get his arms under it, straightened up with a low grunt as he hefted it up, leaning back slightly to take some of the weight on his chest. It wasn’t too heavy for him to manage, but the size and shape made it awkward to hold. Once he had it reasonably secure, he looked to you for direction, finding both you and Charlie staring at him with eyes as wide as you could make them.

“Tell me where I’m going. I can’t see too well over this guy.”

You snapped into action then, taking your purse and basket from Charlie.

“Charlie, steer,” you said, pointing at Steve. “I’ll run and pull the car around.”

Charlie took up her station beside Steve, her hand on his elbow. You took off towards the parking lot, digging in your purse as you ran.

“What are you going to name him?” Steve asked as Charlie gently steered him around clusters of oblivious people standing between him and the festival entrance.

“I don’t know yet,” she said thoughtfully. “I didn’t think mom would say yes.”

“Let me know when you decide! I’m sure you’ll think of a great one.”

“Are you okay? Is it too heavy?” she checked anxiously.

“I’m alright,” he said with a laugh.

You only kept them waiting for a minute before pulling up to the front entrance, popping the trunk before running over to them.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you said breathlessly, placing your hands on the pumpkin to help stabilize as Steve lowered it into the trunk of your car.

“No problem,” he said, brushing his hands clean on his jeans, sighing when he noticed the drips of paint he’d managed to get on them.

“Thank you, Mr. Steve,” Charlie said, hesitating for a moment before giving him a quick hug and fleeing to the back seat.

Your eyes were soft as you stared after her, mouth curled into an amused smile.

“She’s never hugged me before,” Steve said quietly, feeling kind of like his heart might explode.

“Sweet girl. Did she call you Mr. Steve?” you asked with a laugh.

“Yeah, I told her she could just call me Steve outside of class. That’s the closest she’s gotten.”

“So cute,” you said with a sigh, shaking your head as if to clear it. “Anyway, thank you so much for your help. And for the face paint.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“It was nice seeing you,” you said warmly, squeezing his arm in goodbye as you took a step back toward the car. “Outside of school, I mean.”

“Nice seeing you too. Enjoy the rest of your weekend. And hey, if you decide to come back tomorrow with the Starks, come say hi before you leave.”

“I’ll let you know.”

You waved before settling back into the driver’s seat, and Steve backed towards the festival entrance, only turning to head back to the face paint table when you had driven away.

At the last second, he swerved towards the jewelry booth, in search of shiny green rocks and little gold leaves.

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A slice of fall in June. Hope you enjoyed it! Would love, love, love to hear what you think of this little development!

As always, reblogs, replies, and asks make my world go round. Can’t do what I do without you!

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #teacher!steve rogers #artist!steve rogers

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late-to-the-party-81 · 2 years ago

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The Strongest Shape

AN: Wow - I can’t believe it’s been 6 months since I wrote something for my OT3! But here we are, with an update as to how they are doing now they are officially a throuple. It's also the first instalment without smut!

Beta’d by @lfnr-blog-blog-blog

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Moodboard by me

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part Eight | Part Ten

Relationship: Artist!Steve Rogers x Reader (Cali) x Engineer!Bucky Barnes

WC: 2k

CW: Fluff, suggestive language, implied smut

The car lurched to the side and you threw out your arms to steady yourself, one against the passenger side door and the other against the warm, firm body next to you.

“Can’t keep your hands off me, can you darlin’?” Bucky’s teasing drawl sounded in your ear and he grabbed hold of you, pulling you as close to him as the seatbelts would allow. You giggled back.

“You wish, Barnes.” You snuggled in close, enjoying being cuddled up against him. “Steve, can you drive more carefully?”

“Sorry, Cali. Cabby pulled out without warning.”

You scrubbed at your face with your free hand, inching up under the piece of black cloth that had been tied over your eyes.

“And when can I take this blindfold off?”

“When we get to our destination. Ain’t that right, Buck?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Bucky nuzzled his nose into your neck. “Might never take it off, to be honest. The sensory deprivation could be… stimulating.”

You smacked your hand against him playfully.

“You’re incorrigible.” He nipped at your ear and you squeaked in surprise.

“You love it, and don’t pretend you don’t.”

Steve chuckled from the driver’s seat as he continued to drive you towards your mystery destination. You knew you were still in the city; Steve’s muttered cursing, the constant tapping of the brakes, and the fact you hadn’t seemed to have got 20 miles an hour gave it away.

It had been three months now since the three of you had changed the nature of your relationship, bringing Bucky into it as more than just Steve’s friend, and it wasn’t to say that you and Steve were unhappy before, far from it. But now? Now there was an extra dimension, someone else to share the load, more love to give and more love to receive. If one of you needed to be alone, you didn’t have to worry about the other. If one of you was feeling spicy, the chances of both the others not being in the mood was low. And well, if all three of you were in the mood…Steve and Bucky had ended up shelling out for a reinforced, California King for Steve’s apartment after his previous bed broke during one of your more ‘intense’ sessions. Luckily none of you had been hurt and the memories of that night had kept you all giggling for weeks after.

Before this, there was no way you could have ever considered not feeling jealousy seeing your partner being affectionate and intimate with someone else, but watching your boys together was something beautiful. Sometimes you weren’t sure which was better - watching or participating. You’d mentioned as much to the pair of them and they both said they felt the same way,

The only fly in the ointment was your living situation. Not only did you all have to get used to living with an extra person, even Steve’s apartment, which was the biggest, couldn’t sustain you all for more than a couple of days without you all tripping over each other and tensions getting frayed. But when either you or Bucky went back to your own apartment for space, it just felt wrong.

The car lurched to a halt and you were glad for Bucky’s arm around you, bracing you.

“Bucky, next time we go on a mystery drive, could you do us all a favour and you do the driving?” The brunet chuckled as Steve gasped dramatically.

“You wound me, Cali. How could you be so cruel? I’m a very good driver.”

You heard Steve open his door, climb out and push it shut. Bucky’s hand slid down between you, releasing your seatbelt, and then your door was opened, Steve helping you to step out, as you were still blindfolded.

“I hope no-one sees us and thinks you are kidnapping me.” Your left hand was held in Steve’s large, warm grip, and Bucky was standing behind and slightly to the side of you, his hand resting between your shoulder blades.

“Come on, darlin’. Let’s get on with the surprise. Careful now, there are some steps.”

Your boyfriends carefully guided you up, the steps wide and smooth. You were glad you had eschewed heels for this excursion; it made it a lot easier to negotiate your way into whichever building your boys were taking you into.

Steve let go of you briefly to open the door; you heard the click of a lock and the creak of hinges and then Bucky ushered you forward. Your curiosity was piqued as you heard your three sets of footsteps echoing inside the space.

“Where the heck are we, guys?” Neither of them answered, but Steve’s nimble fingers came up to the back of your head, loosening the knot on the silk scarf they’d used for your blindfold.

“You ready for the surprise, sweetheart?”

“Yes! Stop torturing me - It had better be worth it, Stevie.”

The fabric fell away and you blinked for a moment, adjusting to the bright light. Then you gasped. You were standing in the empty front room of a brownstone. Smooth wooden floors and decorative sconces grabbed your attention.

Steve’s arms enclosed you from behind, his beard tickling your ear.

“What do you think, Cali?”

“Is this what I think it is, Stevie?”

You felt him nod against the side of your head.

“Mmm-hmm. Buck and I have been scouring realtors, looking for just the right place. An enormous master bedroom, big enough for an Alaska king bed, another room with north facing windows, perfect as an art studio, and three others- so both you and Buck can have your own work spaces, plus a spare for guests, or if one of us is annoyed with the others.” He chuckled at the last bit and you playfully thumped him on the arm.

“Show me…”

Your boys lead you on a tour around the property they’d found, Steve hanging by your side, fingers entwined with yours while Bucky ran back and forth between you and the various features he wanted to point out.

You tried to keep your mind on the house and what they were eagerly showing you, but you couldn’t help but marvel at the two men that you called yours, and how different they were. Despite being a Saturday, Steve was immaculately turned out, his dirty blonde hair slicked to the side, his beard neatly trimmed within an inch of its life. He wore black slacks, a maroon crew neck sweater and his long, black wool coat over the top; head to toe, the distinguished gentleman. Except when you got him home.

Bucky, on the other hand, was, well, Bucky. Jeans with rips across the knee, black boots on his feet, a black tee-shirt, which looked far too small, and his lemon leather jacket. His deliciously ‘too-long’ hair kept flopping over his brow, and the way he kept brushing it back just returned your attention to his clever fingers. Fingers that were now pulling you out of Steve’s arms so he could drag you up the stairs to your potential new bedroom.

The master suite took up the entirety of the top floor. There was a large walk-in closet too, that even had its own window, and you couldn’t help some of the thoughts that rushed through your head; alternative uses for the closet in the future. Also, Steve hadn’t been lying when he said there was space for an Alaskan king. Other thoughts filled your mind then, of all the things that could happen in such a bed. You couldn’t believe they’d managed to find a place like this.

Looking over the rest of the house, Bucky and you bickered good naturedly about which room you would each have for your own private space. The pair of you both had the same preference, but you knew that Bucky would inevitably concede, although probably not before you had to bribe him with a blowjob.

You were also excited by the size of the kitchen, mainly because it had the space to fit in a massive refrigerator, big enough to house the mountains of food that your boyfriends went through.The whole house was currently empty of furniture, but you couldn’t help but envisage Steve’s couch here and Bucky’s bookcase there, interspersed with occasional tables from your own apartment. Then Steve’s art on the walls, turning the place from a house into a home. A home for the three of you.

“It’s perfect! But I don’t know if we can afford it?” It was Bucky’s turn to embrace you now.

“You think we’d show you this, if we weren’t certain of that? That would be cruel, darlin’. So don’t you worry, Steve and I can more than afford it on our own.”

“I’m paying my share, Barnes. I’m not being a kept woman.”

He nipped at your earlobe and a dart of heat went to your core, your brain no longer picturing furniture fitting into the space, but supplying you with images of all the places the boys could take you, and each other, apart in.

“Doll, you know you’re an equal partner in this. So the house would be equally in your name too. Remember, if it wasn’t for you I don’t think Stevie and I would have really admitted to each other how we felt. So now, not only do I have him, I also have you, and you have both of us. A triangle is one of the strongest shapes.”

Steve moved from where he was looking out of the window to where you and Bucky were standing, wrapping his arms around the pair of you, dropping a kiss on Bucky’s cheek and one on the top of your head.

“Are we really doing this, then?” Your voice was uncharacteristically quiet. This decision felt momentous. It was one thing to become a ‘throuple’, but this, pooling your resources, moving in with each other permanently felt like something else.

Scary, but also right.

“Only if you want to, sweetheart.” Steve spoke into your hair. “You’re the linchpin here, Cali. Everything is down to you.”

You rolled your eyes, glad he couldn’t see.

“Way to pile on the pressure, Steve.”

“Well, for the record, Buck and I are all in. We’d love nothing more than to be living all together, permanently. All cuddled up in bed every night…”

“Except when you’re away.”

“Yes, smartass, except when I’m away and you and Buck can starfish to your heart’s content. And I won’t be worrying about you, or Buck, cos you’ll have each other.”

“Yeah, and we can make ‘home movies’ to send to Stevie…” Bucky couldn’t help but lower the tone, making you smile. You turned to look at him, his misty blue eyes full of mischief.

“How soon after you saw this place did you start getting ideas?”

“Darlin’, as soon as I saw the floor plan on the website. My first visit I found the correct joist for the sex swing.” He winked dramatically and you couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“Love you, Buck, even if you’re a big child.”

“Just addicted to making you smile, Cali. Now, whaddya say? We all gonna take the next step? Together?”

“Yeah, I think we are.”

Bucky let out a loud whoop. “Stevie - call the realtor, I’m taking our Cali back upstairs to show her which joist the swing is going on.” He looked at you slyly and licked his lips. “‘N maybe we start to find out how soundproof the floors and ceilings are…”

Steve rolled his eyes, but pulled out his phone as he watched Bucky chase you up the stairs.

“Don’t get too far without me! Hello, yes, this is Steve Rogers. We’ll take it…”

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