After years of their relationship, James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes and Steve Grant Rogers had adopted a child of their own. About 1 year old when they became your daddy and papa, you were their pride and joy, clingy, sweet, too innocent for your own good. But a big problem; you were picky.

Steve worked a lot, leaving Bucky at home during the day to try and figure out how to make their now 2 year old eat something before they starved. Usually it took a while, you rejected everything, which lead Bucky to either preparing whatever he let you pick in the pantry or giving up entirely on what you liked and forcing you to eat. ——— Today was one of those days, and as Steve kissed Bucky goodbye and gave you a little head pat, Bucky turned to you in his arms with a sigh. Alright, breakfast time.

Bucky was standing over at the stove, making scrambled eggs for himself and you while a little bowl of oatmeal sat on the tray of your booster seat at the table. All went well, till a thud was heard and a splatter of something warm touched Bucky’s ankle.

Out of all the times he’s tried to feed you, this was the first time you’ve thrown your food, usually just silently ignoring it, and this was absolutely not acceptable.

‘ ‘ Alright. You can do a lot of things, turn your head when I try to feed you, keep your mouth shut, but throwing perfectly good food is not allowed in this house, little boy. Don’t make me call your papa to come deal with you.. ‘ ‘

Bucky spoke firmly, a glare in his eyes, clearly his threat wasn’t empty as he went to clean up your oatmeal mess.