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https://archiveofourown.org/works/4116493/chapters/9277540
Good fences make good neighbors. Good friends become great lovers when Steve's daughter plays Cupid.
Tumblr prompt: Person A is a single parent whose life is very busy with their full-time job and their child(ren). Person B is someone they've known for a long time and they are very close and Person B is good at helping out with Person A's child. One day, Person A's child announces to Person A that Person A is in love with Person B. (Bonus: Person B is currently in another relationship. Possibly with Person C.)
Notes:
I love the idea of Stucky as single dads. These Tumblr prompts have been great for my writer's block, and I feel like the folks submitting them have been reading my mind, lately. So, cue the fluff, angst, snacks, Nickelodeon cartoon references, and hopeless pining.
Excerpt:
"OW!" Bucky cursed as his shaving lather seeped into a nasty cut, compliments of the sharp, sudden knock at his front door that startled the crap out of him. Bear, Bucky's pitbull/border collie mix, began barking his head off from the laundry room. "Hush, boy, hush! Quiet!" Bucky yelled. He heard the dog pacing and thumping his tail against everything where he had him shut in until he could let him out into the backyard. Bear always freaked out whenever the neighborhood kids began leaving for school, and Bucky had received more than one noise complaint. He scrambled to pull himself together to answer the door. "Geez..." He scrubbed his face with his damp towel that he'd just wadded up and tossed on the rack a moment ago. "Hold on!" he called out as he searched around the floor for his boxers. He hopped into them as he stumbled down the back hall. "Just a minute!" he insisted as his visitor knocked again. He recognized the knock, loud and brisk, just short of banging, as belonging to his left-side neighbor. Bucky darted into his bedroom to grab a tee shirt from the top of the hamper, deciding it didn't smell too bad, and that it would serve the purpose of making him decent enough to open the door.
That was Steve's knock, all right. Guy had to be having a rough morning, Bucky mused. Steve Rogers was the only guy with a day job that Bucky empathized with at all. Him, he would cut some slack for daring to knock on Bucky's door before three PM. Five sharp knocks, followed by a ten-second pause, just as distinctive as shave-and-a-haircut, two bits. Bucky made it to the door before he could manage the fourth strike against the badly peeling wood; Bucky really needed to repaint it. He opened it to him and managed a tolerant smile.
"Hey, neighbor. What's goin' on?" Steve looked sheepish and frustrated, and he sighed raggedly, rubbing his nape.
"Hey, Bucky. I hate to come over here like this, first thing in the morning... I know you just got home-"
"No. No, it's okay. Things happen, Stevie." Steve sighed in relief and managed a vestige of a smile. He stumbled forward on autopilot.
"Well, I hate doing this to you, and feel free to say no, but I need a big, BIG favor. I'm running late getting out the door to an early meeting with a client. They're across town, over on Water Street, and traffic is nuts at this hour-"
"Libby needs a ride to school?" Bucky asked.
"I would owe you SO big. I will totally do you a solid, Buck. I promise, but right now," and Steve glanced dramatically at his watch, mouthing the words oh, shit, "I have about ten minutes to get across town." Steve was already mostly dressed and impeccably shaved, Bucky noticed with a hint of envy. Bucky's five o'clock shadow showed itself by noon, courtesy of his good old-fashioned Italian dark hair - a claim his father made, even though his mother insisted they were only Russian and Jewish - while Steve Rogers was a fair-skinned blond who freckled slightly when he tanned.
"I just need thirty seconds to get halfway decent. Pants would be good."
"Fair enough." Steve nodded and grinned. "Nice Oscars, by the way."
"Got 'em from an ex." Bucky wouldn't admit to Steve that he'd actually stolen the green Sesame Street cotton boxer shorts from Brock when they broke up. Brock really was a grouch, and there was no love lost between them. Bucky didn't need the lies, co-dependency or drama, but the boxers were ridiculously comfortable, and Bucky refused to part with them just on principle. Bucky relinquished every single item he'd ever purchased jointly with him when they lived together, wanting a clean slate and no moving truck to pack. Bucky drove off in his Prius with three suitcases, a few framed prints and a box of kitchen gear and never looked back.
"They had good taste." Steve's eyes flicked back up to Bucky's face and he cleared his throat. "I gotta jet. I'll send her over in a minute."
"Just as long as she knocks first," Bucky reminded him. There had been "incidents" before of Libby scaring the crap out of him. Bucky didn't need a repeat performance of the first time she'd walked in on him in his kitchen, singing his heart out to Aerosmith's "Dream On," also while in his underwear, scrambling eggs for a late lunch, to ask him if she could get her Frisbee out of his back yard.
Bucky could blame himself for singing too loudly, hitting the screechy high notes for not hearing her timid knock on the door, if he had to pin down how she got the jump on him.
Good fences make good neighbors. Good friends become great lovers when Steve's daughter plays Cupid.
Tumblr prompt: Person A is a single parent whose life is very busy with their full-time job and their child(ren). Person B is someone they've known for a long time and they are very close and Person B is good at helping out with Person A's child. One day, Person A's child announces to Person A that Person A is in love with Person B. (Bonus: Person B is currently in another relationship. Possibly with Person C.)
Notes:
I love the idea of Stucky as single dads. These Tumblr prompts have been great for my writer's block, and I feel like the folks submitting them have been reading my mind, lately. So, cue the fluff, angst, snacks, Nickelodeon cartoon references, and hopeless pining.
Excerpt:
"OW!" Bucky cursed as his shaving lather seeped into a nasty cut, compliments of the sharp, sudden knock at his front door that startled the crap out of him. Bear, Bucky's pitbull/border collie mix, began barking his head off from the laundry room. "Hush, boy, hush! Quiet!" Bucky yelled. He heard the dog pacing and thumping his tail against everything where he had him shut in until he could let him out into the backyard. Bear always freaked out whenever the neighborhood kids began leaving for school, and Bucky had received more than one noise complaint. He scrambled to pull himself together to answer the door. "Geez..." He scrubbed his face with his damp towel that he'd just wadded up and tossed on the rack a moment ago. "Hold on!" he called out as he searched around the floor for his boxers. He hopped into them as he stumbled down the back hall. "Just a minute!" he insisted as his visitor knocked again. He recognized the knock, loud and brisk, just short of banging, as belonging to his left-side neighbor. Bucky darted into his bedroom to grab a tee shirt from the top of the hamper, deciding it didn't smell too bad, and that it would serve the purpose of making him decent enough to open the door.
That was Steve's knock, all right. Guy had to be having a rough morning, Bucky mused. Steve Rogers was the only guy with a day job that Bucky empathized with at all. Him, he would cut some slack for daring to knock on Bucky's door before three PM. Five sharp knocks, followed by a ten-second pause, just as distinctive as shave-and-a-haircut, two bits. Bucky made it to the door before he could manage the fourth strike against the badly peeling wood; Bucky really needed to repaint it. He opened it to him and managed a tolerant smile.
"Hey, neighbor. What's goin' on?" Steve looked sheepish and frustrated, and he sighed raggedly, rubbing his nape.
"Hey, Bucky. I hate to come over here like this, first thing in the morning... I know you just got home-"
"No. No, it's okay. Things happen, Stevie." Steve sighed in relief and managed a vestige of a smile. He stumbled forward on autopilot.
"Well, I hate doing this to you, and feel free to say no, but I need a big, BIG favor. I'm running late getting out the door to an early meeting with a client. They're across town, over on Water Street, and traffic is nuts at this hour-"
"Libby needs a ride to school?" Bucky asked.
"I would owe you SO big. I will totally do you a solid, Buck. I promise, but right now," and Steve glanced dramatically at his watch, mouthing the words oh, shit, "I have about ten minutes to get across town." Steve was already mostly dressed and impeccably shaved, Bucky noticed with a hint of envy. Bucky's five o'clock shadow showed itself by noon, courtesy of his good old-fashioned Italian dark hair - a claim his father made, even though his mother insisted they were only Russian and Jewish - while Steve Rogers was a fair-skinned blond who freckled slightly when he tanned.
"I just need thirty seconds to get halfway decent. Pants would be good."
"Fair enough." Steve nodded and grinned. "Nice Oscars, by the way."
"Got 'em from an ex." Bucky wouldn't admit to Steve that he'd actually stolen the green Sesame Street cotton boxer shorts from Brock when they broke up. Brock really was a grouch, and there was no love lost between them. Bucky didn't need the lies, co-dependency or drama, but the boxers were ridiculously comfortable, and Bucky refused to part with them just on principle. Bucky relinquished every single item he'd ever purchased jointly with him when they lived together, wanting a clean slate and no moving truck to pack. Bucky drove off in his Prius with three suitcases, a few framed prints and a box of kitchen gear and never looked back.
"They had good taste." Steve's eyes flicked back up to Bucky's face and he cleared his throat. "I gotta jet. I'll send her over in a minute."
"Just as long as she knocks first," Bucky reminded him. There had been "incidents" before of Libby scaring the crap out of him. Bucky didn't need a repeat performance of the first time she'd walked in on him in his kitchen, singing his heart out to Aerosmith's "Dream On," also while in his underwear, scrambling eggs for a late lunch, to ask him if she could get her Frisbee out of his back yard.
Bucky could blame himself for singing too loudly, hitting the screechy high notes for not hearing her timid knock on the door, if he had to pin down how she got the jump on him.
