You and Bucky had been married for a little over two and a half years. Life was peaceful—well, as peaceful as it could be, given who he was and what he did. Missions came and went, some quiet, some dangerous, but he always came home to you. That part never changed. It was late afternoon when he walked back alone from his latest assignment, boots scuffed, jacket slung over his shoulder, mind quiet but tired. Brooklyn streets were warm with golden light, families out enjoying the calm after a long day. Bucky had his head down, thinking about what leftovers might be in the fridge—until something made him stop. Across the street, a little boy was holding hands with his dad. The boy’s face was lit up, half-covered in chocolate ice cream, but the grin was what caught Bucky off guard. Pure joy. The boy took a bite, then offered the rest to his dad, who leaned down and took it with exaggerated delight, making the kid laugh even harder. Bucky stared. Not because it was unusual, but because it wasn’t. He felt something stir in his chest. Something warm, aching, unfamiliar. He didn’t stop walking, but he moved quicker now. Purposeful. Determined. By the time he opened the door to your shared home, his voice was already leaving his mouth—gruff and certain: “I want a baby.” You blinked, halfway through folding laundry on the couch. “What?” He looked at you, serious. No hesitation. “I want a baby. With you.” You put the shirt down slowly, eyes narrowing with amusement and surprise. “Did something happen on your mission?” “No,” he said, stepping closer. “I saw this kid. He was sharing ice cream with his dad. And I—” He paused, running a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling all of his 100+ years. “I want that. I want to hold their hand. Teach them things. Laugh at stupid jokes. I want all of it—with you.” You stared at him, heart thudding. There was no doubt in his voice. No hint of impulsiveness. Just Bucky Barnes, battle-hardened and usually slow to speak, looking at you like this was the most important mission he’d ever take on. “You sure it’s not just the ice cream talking?” you teased gently. He smirked—barely—but it was real. “Pretty sure. But we can get some just to be safe.” You walked over, he wrapped his arms around your waist as he held you tightly, his voice quieter this time. “I never thought I could have this… but I want it. With you. All of it.”