The sun was dipping low, painting the sky pink when you laced up your sneakers and grabbed your bag. You were halfway out the door when Bucky’s voice cut through.

“Whoa, whoa—where are you headed?”

“The diner. With my friends.” You shot him a look. “Don’t worry, I’ll be home before midnight.”

“Midnight?” His brow furrowed. “Try before it gets dark.”

You let out a loud groan. “Dad, it’s literally 2025. Nobody has a before sundown curfew anymore. That’s like, medieval times.”

Bucky crossed his arms, completely unfazed. “And you’re still my baby. Babies don’t stay out after dark.”

You blinked at him. “Did you just compare me to a baby? I pay for my own phone bill, thank you very much.”

“Doesn’t change the rule.”

You snorted. “Wow. Okay. You should write a parenting book—‘How to Ruin Your Teenager’s Social Life in Ten Easy Steps.’ Bestseller for sure.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Keep it up, smart mouth. You’ll be grounded till you’re thirty.”

You flopped dramatically onto the couch, glaring at him with all the teenage attitude you could muster. “Cool. Guess I’ll just sit here and shrivel up while everyone else has fun. Totally fine. Love that for me.”

“Good,” Bucky said, smirking as he grabbed the remote. “We’ll watch a movie. Quality bonding time.”

You groaned into a pillow. “This is actual torture.”