Disclaimer: Marvel Characters are property of Marvel. Original Characters are mine. Just for fun, not for profit.

Pancakes and Shenanigans

The next morning, a loud crash jolted Bucky abruptly out of deep slumber. He sat bolt upright in bed, then dropped to the floor, half crouched as he listened for more clues to tell him who was intruding on his space. Hushed whispers coming from the kitchen, then a giggle. He relaxed slightly as he awakened fully and realized, despite the twilight hour, that the disturbance was caused by members of his own household. Straightening up, he paced out to the kitchen to find pieces of shattered glass strewn about the floor. Brooklyn perched on top of the refrigerator before the most inaccessible cabinet in the kitchen, which was open. Jameson crouched on the countertop beside the refrigerator, Balaur balanced on his shoulder. Bucky blinked as he realized the dragonet was nearly the same size as his son. Stopping short of the shards of glass on the floor, he folded his arms over his chest.

"What's going on here?" he asked bluntly. Brooklyn looked slightly guilty.

"We were just trying to get breakfast, Daddy," she explained. Jameson nodded agreement. Bucky raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh, really?" he challenged. "That isn't where we keep the breakfast cereal. Or the breakfast bars. Or any breakfast food, really. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only things we keep in that cupboard are breakable vases and my secret stash of imported chocolate that I keep there for when Mommy needs cheering up." Brooklyn giggled.

"Not secret anymore, Daddy," she said triumphantly, waving a chocolate bar at him.

"I can see that," he replied dryly. He held up a hand. "Let's not have candy bars for breakfast, though. Stay where you are until I get this glass cleaned up, and then how about I make pancakes?" The kids both cheered.

Despite being a frequent visitor in their household, Elijah still knocked and waited before entering, which Bucky did appreciate. The knock this morning came when Bucky was in the middle of his third attempt at making teddy bear pancakes, while bacon sizzled in a pan at his elbow.

"Door's open!" he called. Elijah entered, chuckling at the sight of Bucky moving around the kitchen, his gait slightly hindered by the twins sitting on his feet and clinging to his calves.

"Good morning, Bucky!" Elijah said cheerfully. "Are the twins around?" Both children giggled madly, and Bucky shook his head.

"Sorry, I haven't seen them lately. Maybe check their bedroom?" he suggested. More giggles, which escalated into squeals of laughter as Elijah disappeared down the hall to check. He came back shaking his head.

"I don't see them there. Say, are those new boots?" Elijah asked with a sly grin. Bucky flipped his finally satisfactory teddy bear pancake over and nodded.

"They are. I think I might have to return them, though. They're awfully heavy." He stomped dramatically across the kitchen to grab another plate while his "new boots" cackled with glee at their game.

"Well, if you see Brooklyn or Jameson, can you tell them I love them and I'm sorry I missed them?" Elijah asked.

"Sure," Bucky agreed. Brooklyn let go of his leg and sprang to her feet.

"Grampa, we're right here!" she announced, clearly pleased at the ruse they had pulled.

"Oh, there you are!" Elijah exclaimed in feigned surprise. Brooklyn ran and jumped into his arms. "How's my best girl?"

"I'm okay," she said, then pouted dramatically. "Daddy wouldn't let us have candy bars for breakfast." Elijah looked scandalized.

"No candy bars for breakfast?" he repeated. "Well, that's no fun."

"I was going to ask if you wanted to join us for pancakes and bacon," Bucky interjected, "but now I'm not so sure." Elijah laughed.

"I'd love to," he accepted, and set Brooklyn down. "Who wants to help me carry plates to the table?"

"Me, me!" Both children chorused, pushing past each other to try to help.

"So, Elijah," Bucky asked as he finished cutting Jameson's pancakes into pieces and slid the plate back in front of his son. "Are you in the habit of dropping by for breakfast?" Elijah chuckled and shook his head.

"Not exactly," he admitted. "Nyssa mentioned she was going to be out of town for awhile, so I thought I'd stop by and see if you needed any help. You seem to have things under control, though."

"So far, so good," Bucky confirmed. "Though we've only been awake for about an hour, so…" he gestured vaguely with his fork. Brooklyn half-stood up out of her booster seat, putting one hand in her plate as she reached for the bottle of maple syrup in the middle of the table. "Whoa, whoa, there, let me help you with that." Bucky took the bottle out of her hands.

"No, Daddy, I do it! I do it myself!" she demanded. Bucky hesitated, anticipating a sticky mess splashed across the table, but set the bottle back down and held his hands up in surrender. Brooklyn eagerly grabbed the bottle and upended it over her plate.

"Where is Mommy?" Jameson asked, looking from Bucky to Elijah and back again. Bucky took a deep breath. He knew Nyssa had told them she would be away for awhile, but he was also anticipating many more questions – some repeated - before she returned.

"Mommy is helping people who need her, remember?" he reminded his son. "They're lost in collapsed buildings or burning forests, and she's helping to find them while they're still alive." Jameson frowned, then nodded contemplatively.

"I miss her," he reflected. Bucky nodded.

"Me too, buddy. We'll have a video chat with her tonight," he reminded him, then glanced at his daughter. "Whoa, Brooklyn, that's enough syrup!" He righted the bottle and rescued it from her grasp just as her plate threatened to overflow with the sticky liquid.

"Mmmm, syrup," Brooklyn chirped happily, swirling a forkful of pancake through the puddle on her plate. "Ooey, gooey, booey, fooey, dooey syrup," she added in a sing-song voice. Bucky snorted and shook his head with a half-smile. He looked back at Elijah, who was watching his grandchildren with a wide grin.

"Are you going to be stopping by for breakfast all week?" Bucky asked teasingly. Elijah chuckled.

"A tempting offer," he declared. "I might be able to make it tomorrow. But I'll be out of town for awhile after that. Ruth asked me to come out to Connecticut for a few days. Something about the Monterose Museum." Bucky frowned slightly.

"Is everything okay with it?" he asked lightly. Elijah shrugged.

"Hard to say. She was being kind of mysterious about it. But I haven't been to a staff meeting since I went casual, so I don't really know what's been going on. Guess I'll find out soon enough," he said reflectively, then took another bite of pancakes. He chewed slowly, then swallowed. "I thought maybe the kids might like to go with their old Grandpa to the Children's Museum. Bucky raised his eyebrows and glanced at the kids, who had brightened at the mention of the planned activity.

"What do you think about that?" he asked the children.

"Yaaay, museum!" Brooklyn declared, clapping syrup-covered hands together. Jameson echoed her sentiment, waving his hands in the air.

"Great!" Bucky pronounced cheerfully, eyeing his sticky offspring. "We can leave right after your bath."

Less than an hour later, Brooklyn and Jameson were both freshly scrubbed and dressed in clean clothes. Bucky was sporting a new, dry shirt, the old one victim to enthusiastic splashing in the tub. The children's museum was crowded and loud, with kids screeching in delight and chasing each other around and through the various brightly colored exhibits. Bucky smiled watching his children playing and exploring with Elijah, with the other kids, with each other. After a couple hours, however, his smile had faded. His ears were ringing from the constant noise, and he was starting to get a headache. Jameson hid behind him, burying his face in Bucky's thigh. Brooklyn was smiling less and whining more, starting to push other kids when they were playing with what she wanted. Bucky scooped up his son.

"Are you hungry, Jamie?" he asked. "Should we go get some lunch?" Jameson nodded, twining his arms around Bucky's neck and hiding his face in his shoulder. Bucky caught Elijah's eye and gave him a high sign. Elijah nodded and corralled Brooklyn, who protested loudly.

Bucky was relieved when they arrived at the child-friendly restaurant, releasing the twins to chase through the maze of tubes and slides while he and Elijah enjoyed greasy burgers and fries. There was still a crowd here, and he thought wistfully of their comparatively quiet apartment.

"Do you suppose she's keeping herself out of trouble?" Elijah mused around his burger. Bucky shrugged.

"If someone's life is at stake, probably not," he pronounced quietly. He knew Nyssa could take care of herself, but she also took bigger risks when the stakes were higher. He hoped her desire to return home helped her to make safer choices, but he wasn't holding his breath. "She'll be checking in tonight with a video chat. I'll remind her to stay safe and be careful." Elijah's eyes twinkled at him.

"Good luck with that," he replied with a chuckle. The fact that Elijah didn't seem particularly concerned helped the knot of worry in Bucky's stomach loosen slightly. He took another bite of his burger and watched Brooklyn tumble off the end of the slide head first and roll to her feet.

It was barely past one in the afternoon by the time they got home, but Bucky felt like it should be bedtime already. Needing a break, he turned on cartoons for the twins and let them relax on the couch. They had already spent several hours in educational and active pursuits, he reasoned, flopping down on the couch beside them, so a little screen time wouldn't hurt. He was exhausted. How did Nyssa do this on a daily basis? Looking over at the children, he noticed they had both fallen asleep. With a satisfied sigh and a little smirk, he changed the channel to something less child-friendly.

His smirk faded a few minutes later as he paused on a news channel. They were talking about the California wildfires, showing acres of trees and houses going up in flames. Behind a reporter talking about the difficulties facing the rescuers, amongst Red Cross tents and groups of volunteers, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure with a dog by her side. Her smoke-blackened clothing was streaked with dirt, spattered with reddish-brown, torn in some places. The camera caught a side of her face, her pale complexion smudged grey. She was running towards the fire, not away from it. Bucky's breath caught in his throat, and he leaned forward, suddenly paying closer attention to the reporter. The news segment was ending, and the image flashed back to the studio, where the news anchors commented on the desperate and devastating situation. Bucky let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and sat back on the couch.

He made the executive decision to order pizza for dinner. Brooklyn ate three slices, while Jameson picked the meat off his and ate only the cheese. Pulled-apart pizza crusts soon covered his plate. Bucky snagged the last piece and was just finishing up when the comm console chimed.

"Mommy!" Brooklyn squealed, slipping out of her seat and dashing towards the console. Jameson followed; his mouth still full of tomato sauced mozzarella. Bucky furtively tossed a handful of Jameson's discarded toppings into Balaur's habitat, then followed his children. Brooklyn was already standing on the chair in front of the console, her little fingers seeking the call button on the touchscreen. Nyssa appeared on the monitor, the canvas of a tent behind her giving few clues to her location or current situation. Her face was pink, recently scrubbed clean, and her smile widened as she saw her family. Darshan's ears were visible at the bottom of the frame.

"Mommy, Mommy!" the twins chorused, bouncing up and down. The dog's face appeared on the screen, his nose flooding the picture as he sniffed at it. Nyssa chuckled and pushed his head down.

"When are you coming home?" Brooklyn asked. An apologetic wrinkle appeared between Nyssa's eyebrows.

"I'll be home in a week," she promised. "I miss you all. People here still need me."

"Are you saving babies?" Jameson queried anxiously. Nyssa nodded solemnly.

"A few babies," she assured him. "Also, mommies and daddies and brothers and sisters and grandpas and grandmas." Jameson's eyes widened.

"Lots of people!" he observed. Nyssa nodded agreement.

"We also rescued a few deer, some coyotes and a cougar," she informed him. Jameson's face brightened.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, clearly impressed.

"What did you do today?" she asked. The children eagerly filled him in on the day's activities, Brooklyn taking the lead with Jameson interjecting every now and again. Nyssa listened attentively. Bucky took advantage of the kids' distraction to clean up after dinner. Every now and again, he would pause to check on them and watch his wife talking to them. The soot and smoke smudges were gone, but she couldn't wash away the shadows of exhaustion or hide the haunted look in her eyes. As the twins' attention began to wander, Nyssa read them a bedtime story. When they ran off to play, Bucky finally had a chance to talk to her alone.

"How's the situation there?" he asked. Nyssa gave him a half-smile.

"Well, I wouldn't bring the kids here for vacation right now," she admitted. "But I've been through worse." Bucky frowned. He had seen the news coverage. Thick smoke that made it hard to breathe, the stench of burning homes and wildlife, unbearable heat. It had to be hell on earth there, even though she was trying to assuage his worries by understating it. One more reason to be concerned for her well-being.

"How much longer are you staying there?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Through tomorrow, probably," she informed him. "Then on to Hamamatsu to help after the tsunami."

"Have you been able to find a lot of survivors?" he probed. Nyssa gave him a lopsided smile.

"A few hundred," she confirmed. "Not as many as I was hoping. There have been pockets of people sheltering from the fires and smoke."

"And have you been eating and sleeping?" he asked pointedly. She made a face at him.

"When I can," she hedged, "just like I promised you." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"So that would be a no," he clarified. She opened her mouth to protest. "Or, at the very least, it's a 'not enough'." She closed her mouth again with a sigh. He shook his head slightly. "I know you're compelled to help, but try to take care of yourself, too, before you're a burned-out husk." Nyssa snorted.

"It's a crisis, Bucky," she reminded him archly. "I'll do what I need to do. Then I'll rest. I am well aware of my tendency to push too hard, but you can trust I do know my limits."

"I do trust you," Bucky assured her. "That doesn't mean I don't worry. I worry because I love you and I miss you."

"I love you and miss you, too," Nyssa replied. She glanced offscreen. "Looks like they're gearing up to go out again. I have to go. I'll call again tomorrow." The screen changed to a notification that the call had ended.

"Just one more book, Daddy, please!" beseeched Brooklyn. Bucky shook his head.

"We've read six. That's enough. It's time to brush teeth and go to bed," he reminded them. Jameson frowned.

"What about bedtime yoga?" he asked. "Mommy always does bedtime yoga." Bucky chuckled softly.

"Maybe another night you can show me how that goes," he told his son. "But Daddy is doing bedtime tonight, and I don't know the bedtime yoga routine."

"Are you going to sing to us?" Jameson asked as he herded them in the direction of the bathroom. Bucky groaned and shook his head.

"Sorry, buddy. You don't want that, trust me," he protested.

"Awww," Jameson replied, his shoulders and head drooping.

Five minutes later, the bathroom sink and mirror were covered in water droplets and toothpaste splatters, but the twins' teeth were reasonably clean, their faces scrubbed, their pajamas only half saturated and spattered in toothpaste drool. Bucky took that as a win and ushered them back down the hall to the bedroom. Brooklyn immediately commenced with jumping on the bed, while Jameson insisted he needed to lay on top of Bucky to get to sleep. Then Brooklyn needed water. Then Jameson wanted some, too, but in his own cup. Then Jameson realized he couldn't find his stuffed elephant, Taroo. After a frantic eight-minute hunt, they found Taroo under the dining room table. They finally all got settled back into bed, but Brooklyn couldn't seem to settle down, asking a million questions about where Nyssa was, what she was doing, what fires were like and what would happen if their house caught fire. Bucky answered the first few patiently, then began reminding her she needed to stop talking and try to sleep. Forty-five minutes later, they were both soundly asleep. Bucky carefully got up out of their bed and made his way to the living room. He contemplated sitting down on the couch and enjoying the first time to himself he had had all day. After a few moments, he decided he was too exhausted. He just wanted to go to bed.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," Brooklyn's sing-song voice broke into his slumber. He awakened to see blue eyes the same shade as his centimeters away. Brooklyn's nose rubbed against the end of his. "Nosey, nosey, Daddy." She giggled with delight, clinging to him as he stirred and groaned awake. He rolled over to see Jameson sitting crouched on the bed nearby him.

"Good morning, Jamie," he greeted him. Jameson responded with a high-pitched, ear splitting shriek, flapping his arms out at his sides. Bucky blinked at him, then realized Balaur was perched on the headboard.

"He's a dragon," Brooklyn informed him, jumping on the bed around him.

"I see that," Bucky acknowledged. He gave Jameson a reproving look. "We've talked about this, Jamie. You know Balaur isn't supposed to be out of his habitat when I'm not up and conscious." Jameson shrieked again, flapping his arms in protest as he went into an extended yowl. He broke character and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"That was dragon speech, Dad," he whispered loudly. "I was telling you that Balaur doesn't like his habitat. It's too, too squishy." Before Bucky could respond to that revelation, Brooklyn did a somersault and leaped on top of him, her knees digging into his lower back. He groaned.

"Daddy, can we go to the park?" she implored.

"Right now?" he asked in astonishment, looking over at the clock. It was not quite six in the morning. "It's too early right now, Babydoll. Give me some time to wake up, and let's have some breakfast. Then maybe the sun will be up, and we can go to the park."

"Yaaaay!" Brooklyn did a flip from one side of the bed to the other, one hand brushing his hip as she flew over him. Bucky raised his eyebrows in surprise at her prowess.

Brooklyn's favorite park was just a few blocks' walk from Avengers Tower. Between making breakfast, getting the twins to eat, coaxing Balaur back into his habitat, cleaning up after breakfast and getting everyone dressed in appropriate clothing, it was very nearly nine o'clock by the time Bucky pushed the double stroller up by one of the benches that ringed the playground. The day was still cool, but promised to be clear and warm. No doubt the play structure would be swarming with children in a couple more hours, but for the moment, they had the playground to themselves. With a whoop, Brooklyn unbuckled her safety harness and sprinted to the climbing wall. Bucky got Jameson out.

"Dad, can you push me on the swings?" the boy asked.

"Sure, buddy." Bucky followed Jameson over to the swings. It didn't take long for more people to arrive. A handful of other children soon joined his, chasing each other over bridges and through tunnels with giggles and squeals. Brooklyn made a beeline for the new children. Jameson signaled that he was done with the swings and scampered off as well. Bucky took a step back, folding his arms over his chest as he watched them play.

"Which one's yours?" Bucky glanced to the side as a dark-haired woman with smiling eyes sidled up to him. He thought he saw some suspicion in her eyes as well. He supposed a man who came to a playground without children would appear somewhat suspect. He gestured vaguely to Brooklyn, who was swinging across the monkey bars with her tongue sticking out in concentration.

"That one up there, and…" He scanned the play structure quickly, feeling slightly alarmed when he didn't see Jameson immediately, but relaxed as he spotted him. "The one crouching in the grass over there." The woman raised her eyebrows.

"Two of them?" she commented, looking vaguely impressed. "Are they…"

"Twins? Yeah," Bucky replied, anticipating the common question.

"Wow!" she exclaimed enthusiastically. "How old?"

"Ah, just about two," he admitted after a moment of hesitation. The woman's eyes widened as she looked from Brooklyn to Jameson and back again.

"Really? Wow, I would not have guessed that," she observed, looking at Bucky askance. Bucky smiled tightly. He was well aware of the contrast between their appearance and their chronological age, but he didn't think he should have to explain it to random strangers. It was none of her business.

"Yeah, they're… big for their age," he acknowledged. She didn't appear satisfied with this non-answer, some suspicion creeping into her face again. He was saved from further questions by Jameson running up to him, hands cradled around a pile of bloody fur.

"Daddy, he's hurt!" Jameson exclaimed, holding his hands up towards Bucky. Bucky crouched down to take a closer look and realized that he was holding a mangled squirrel. "Can we take him home with us? I can take care of him until he's better." Bucky shook his head.

"I don't think that's a good idea, buddy," he contradicted. "Balaur will see him and think that we brought him a snack."

"I'll keep him in my room and not let Balaur see him," Jameson argued. Bucky shook his head.

"He can't come home with us," he said firmly.

"Awww…" Jameson's eyes filled with tears.

"Look, he's a squirrel. He lives outside. He belongs here in the park," Bucky explained patiently. He didn't want to tell his son that the squirrel didn't look like it would make it much longer, and he definitely didn't want to bring the rodent home with them. "Why don't you see if you can find a nice, soft, safe place for him right here? Maybe we can come back tomorrow and check on him." Jameson frowned intently, looking sadly down at his sciurine patient.

"Okay," he said softly, and wandered towards the grove of trees beyond the playground. Bucky shook his head as he straightened up. He watched as Jameson crouched down under one of the trees and lowered his hands carefully to the ground.

"I swear, he would bring home every animal in the neighborhood if I let him," he reflected ruefully. The dark-haired woman laughed. The faint suspicion on her face had transformed into admiration and something else.

"They do keep life interesting," she commented. Bucky nodded.

"That they do," he agreed.

"Mine is the little blonde four-year-old over there on the trapeze bar," she continued, although Bucky hadn't asked. "Her name is Madison. And I'm Melissa." She stuck her hand out in greeting. Not wanting to be rude, Bucky shook it.

"Bucky," he introduced himself. She smiled brilliantly at him.

"Nice to meet you, Bucky," she chirped. "Do you come here to this park often?" He spared a surprised look in her direction. It almost sounded like a pickup line, but she couldn't possibly…. Could she? He shook his head, resting his left hand on his cheek, prominently displaying his wedding ring.

"Not typically," he admitted. "But my wife is out of town, on a… business trip." He wasn't sure that was the right term for it, but it certainly wasn't a vacation. Melissa's eyes widened as she noticed his metal hand.

"Wait a minute," she gasped. "Are you… the Bucky? Bucky Barnes, Captain America Bucky?" He sighed.

"Steve Rogers is Captain America again now," he reminded her.

"I know, but… that's you? You're him?" she persisted. He nodded begrudgingly. Her eyes widened even further, and she batted her lashes at him.

"You know, I'm a big fan of yours," she purred, stepping closer. Her hand stroked the exposed metal of his arm. Bucky took a half-step to the side, moving so she was no longer in his personal space.

"I'm… very flattered," he managed, feeling uncomfortable with the sudden attention. She seemed to take the hint, and didn't try to touch him again.

"Maybe we could exchange numbers," she suggested. "Get our kids together for playdates." Bucky moved his head noncommittally. At the moment, Brooklyn and Madison were huddled atop the tallest tower in the play structure, giggling. Future playdates could be a possibility. Melissa was still watching him.

"Maybe," he hedged, but didn't volunteer his phone number. Melissa took this as agreement and stepped closer to him, one hand grazing his hip.

"How long is your wife going to be out of town?" she asked coyly. He frowned over at her. He had meant the comment as a warning that he was married and off-limits, not an announcement of opportunity.

"Depends how things go," he hedged. "She might be home later tonight." She absolutely wouldn't, but this woman didn't need to know that. Melissa looked crestfallen.

"You must be looking forward to that," she commented dejectedly. He smiled tightly.

"Me and the kids both," he agreed.

"She's a lucky woman," Melissa added enviously. Bucky wasn't certain what to say to that, but he was saved by Jameson rushing up to him once more, this time with a large snake draped over his arms and shoulders. Bucky recognized the pattern on its scales and felt a thrill of concern as he realized it was a boa constrictor. Melissa recoiled in disgust as the boy held up one arm with the snake coiled around it.

"Look what I found, Daddy," he announced. Bucky raised his eyebrows.

"That's a very big snake, Jamie. Is it hurt?" he asked lightly. Jameson shook his head.

"No, just pregnant," he announced happily. Melissa recoiled further. "Can we bring her home, Dad? I can raise the babies." Bucky eyed the snake with apprehension. Part of her tail was beginning to wind around his son's neck. Kneeling before Jameson, he grasped the constrictor firmly just behind the head and unwound the reptile from his son.

"If I recall correctly," he reminded Jamie," her babies won't need anyone to raise them. They can fend for themselves right away. Right?" Jameson nodded slowly. "So we don't need to take her home with us. I'm sure she was just finding a place to nest, so we should let her get back to it."

"Aww." Jameson drooped in disappointment. "Okay." The pregnant boa constrictor slithered away, and Bucky moved aside hastily to clear its path. He put a hand on Jameson's shoulder.

"Look, why don't you go up there with Brooklyn and see if she'll play a game with you," he suggested. Jameson nodded and trotted off in that direction.

"Where on earth did that snake come from?" Melissa gasped, her face pale. Bucky grinned. Nyssa wouldn't have been fazed by the animal.

"My guess, either escaped from a pet store or from someone's private terrarium," he hypothesized. "Although it's possible the city set them loose on purpose, for rodent control." Melissa's eyes widened.

"Do you mean… there could be more of them around here?" She scanned the ground as if expecting snakes to begin crawling out of the bushes at her. Bucky shrugged.

"Possibly. But they're usually nocturnal, so I wouldn't worry too much about it." He had learned more random animal facts since Jameson had become verbal than he had ever dreamed possible. Melissa nodded, though she seemed only partially reassured. Wrapping her arms around her torso, she glanced at the ground anxiously. Bucky concealed a small smirk as he folded his arms over his chest, watching the children play.

Melissa continued to attempt conversation, with some very pointed flirting thrown in, as if to make it very clear to him that she was interested. There was a part of him that thrilled at her attention. She was an attractive woman, and he couldn't remember the last time Nyssa had flirted with him. The arrival of the twins had chilled what had previously been a torrid and steamy relationship. He loved his children, and he loved his wife, but there were times he missed the way things used to be. The woman's fawning stroked his ego, left him feeling warm and slightly flustered. While he was flattered, he had no intention of cheating on his wife. Bucky glanced at his watch. It was nearly noon, and his stomach growled, reminding him that it had been several hours since breakfast.

"Brooklyn, Jameson!" he called across the playground. "Time to go, guys! Let's go get lunch!"

"Aww," Jameson pouted, but climbed down from the play structure obediently. He took a long drink from his water bottle before crawling into his side of the stroller. Bucky glanced up at Brooklyn, who was balking at the top of the play structure.

"Come on, Brooklyn," he chided. "Time to go refuel. Do you want pizza or McDonald's?" He figured the promise of the most kid-friendly food he could think of should be enough of a lure.

"Pizza!" Jameson volunteered as Bucky crouched down to buckle him in. Bucky grinned at his son.

"Leaving so soon?" Melissa queried, looking disappointed as she drew closer to him.

"Yeah," Bucky replied unapologetically. "Gotta feed the kids, and then maybe I'll get lucky and they'll take a nap."

"Isn't that your daughter over there?" Melissa asked, pointing over Bucky's shoulder. He spun around to see Brooklyn sprinting across the grassy field that separated the playground from the busy street. He swore and glanced down at Jameson, buckled securely into the stroller.

"Stay there," he said severely, pointing a finger at his son. Melissa put a hand on the handle of the stroller.

"I'll keep an eye on him," she promised. Bucky didn't have time to contemplate whether it was a good idea to entrust his son to a relative stranger. Spinning around, he sprinted after Brooklyn. She was more than a hundred yards ahead of him, and running faster than anyone with legs that short had a right to. She glanced over her shoulder at him, and the sound of her ecstatic giggle carried to him on the wind. He realized with a cold shock that she thought this was a fun game.

"Brooklyn, stop!" he roared as he ran. "Red light! Red light!" She didn't pay heed, her little legs carrying her ever closer to the cars rushing through the street. He was getting closer, closing the distance between them, but she was just a few steps from the traffic. Putting on a last burst of speed, he snatched her into his arms just as she ran off the curb. Pulling her protectively to his chest, he didn't have time to do anything other than turn and brace himself as the Nissan Altima slammed into his legs. He felt them fly out from under him, and fell back onto the car's hood. Keeping his arms rigid in a protective cage around his daughter, he rolled desperately away. The car's driver laid heavily on the horn. Bucky climbed shakily to his feet and waved apologetically in the general direction of the street. Brooklyn clung to his neck. "Are you okay?" Bucky asked. Brooklyn nodded, her giddy grin beginning to fade. He limped back towards the playground. He reached the nearest bench and sat down heavily. With the adrenaline beginning to fade, his legs were throbbing, he was shaking, and he may have wrenched something in his back. Melissa flew over to him, pushing Jameson in the stroller.

"Oh, my God, are you okay?" she gasped, patting him on the back and shoulders.

"I will be," he said tersely. He suspected he may have sprained or fractured something. Jameson unbuckled himself and approached his father, concern etched into his diminutive features.

"Daddy, you're hurt," he observed, patting Bucky's knees.

"I'll be fine," Bucky told him reassuringly, then grimaced slightly. "I just need a minute."

"I'll kiss it and make it better," Jameson offered.

"You don't have to…" Bucky started, shaking his head, but Jamie was already kneeling down, pressing his lips to Bucky's shins. Surprisingly, the pain lessened slightly. Bucky sighed. "Thanks, buddy."

He found a backpack-style carrier shoved in the bottom of the diaper bag, and loaded a protesting Brooklyn onto his back.

"No, Daddy, I want to walk!" she argued. Bucky shook his head.

"Right now, I need to make sure you are safe," he said firmly. "I don't want you to run off on me again. Brooklyn, you nearly got hit by a car!"

"No, it's okay, Daddy," she insisted. "I was just going to jump on top of them to get across the street." Bucky shook his head, tightened the shoulder straps and buckled the chest clip.

"I don't think that was going to work out for you the way you think, Babydoll," he said dryly.

"I saw you do it," she pointed out. Bucky paused a moment.

"When did you see me jump on cars?" he asked skeptically.

"Uncle Sam showed us," she replied. "It was a video." He made a mental note to thank Sam for that later.

"You're still staying in the backpack," he told his daughter. She whined and shoved at his shoulders as he set off, pushing Jameson and the diaper bag in the stroller. After half a block, she settled down, snuggling into his back, and he felt the weight of her head settle into the curve where his neck met his shoulder. They were just a few blocks from home when he realized she was asleep. Jameson was quiet in the stroller, and he wondered if he had fallen asleep as well. Pausing, he circled to the front of the stroller to check. Jameson was sitting placidly, watching the people walk by them on the street. In his hands, he clutched a frog. Bucky let out a breath of startled annoyance and crouched down in front of his son.

"Jamie, where did you get that frog?" he asked. Jameson grinned and held up the amphibian.

"His name is Herbert," he informed his father. "He wants to come live with us. Please?" Bucky sighed.