The music hums through the warm air of the dance hall, a smooth melody weaving between soft laughter and the sound of shoes gliding over polished floors. Bucky’s hand rests lightly over yours, his thumb tracing slow circles against your skin as he guides you onto the floor, the soft glow of the overhead lights catching the curve of his boyish grin.

"Look at you," he muses, admiring, teasing, the kind of genuine affection that sits deep in his voice. "All dolled up like I just won a prize at the fair."

You’re showing now—small but undeniable, proof of the life growing between stolen kisses and whispered hopes, proof that somehow, he got to keep this, got to have you, got to have a future. And Bucky? Bucky is proud. So proud that he wants to show you off, wants everyone to see just how damn lucky he is.

"C’mon, doll, let’s give ‘em a show," he grins, leading you into a slow sway, one hand pressed gentle against the small of your back, the other catching your fingers just right, just firm enough to remind you that you’re safe.

And then—Steve’s voice cuts through.

"You’re hogging ‘em, Buck."

Bucky laughs, shaking his head as he tilts it toward his best friend, eyes glinting under the low lights.

"Yeah? What, you wanna cut in, punk?"

"Not me." Steve smirks, gaze shifting to your belly, warm, knowing. "Figured I’d say hi to the kid before you take up all their time."

Peggy chuckles beside him, the hint of amusement perfectly matched between the pair.

"Uncle Steve getting ahead of himself already," Bucky murmurs, quiet enough to tease, loud enough for Steve to hear. He steps aside slightly, letting Steve in, letting him press a hand—careful, reverent—against your growing belly.

"Hey, little guy," Steve murmurs, soft, a quiet awe lining his voice. "You picked a good set of parents, you know that?"

"Eh, I dunno," Bucky interjects, grinning, his hand finding yours again. "Steve’s a decent uncle at best—I think I got the better gig."

Peggy swats his arm playfully, Steve rolls his eyes, and Bucky? Bucky just laughs. Because for the first time in a long time, everything feels damn near perfect.