"Hey, Steve baby," Bucky greeted the next day, the minute Steve got home from school. Steve dropped his bag beside his bed and walked over, giving him a tight smile.

"Hey, Buck." He looked troubled. Bucky tilted his head at him, his eyebrows furrowed.

"What's wrong?"

Steve blew out a breath and shrugged. "Parents have this family coming over. The Parkinson's, I think."

Bucky pulled a face. "Gross. Like, fancy people?"

Steve smiled at his reaction and dangled his legs through the bars of the railing. "Yeah. I can't stand any more culture."

Bucky thought, and an idea started to form. He smiled at him, as if to assure him he didn't have to do this alone. "What time tonight?"

"Six thirty," Steve said, noticing his stormy eyes light up again. Bucky gave him the usual grin he saved for him.

"Come on. I happen to be an expert in not-culture," Bucky hummed, getting to his feet. Steve did too, surprised. He had never been to Bucky's before - he supposed today would be the day.

Bucky was standing in his room before Steve knew it. The brunet had become a pro at landing safely enough that the wood barely even creaked. Emma hadn't voiced a  complaint in weeks.

"Buck?" Steve said uneasily, shakily climbing onto his railing. He worried what his parents would think, and a knot of dread formed in his stomach. Standing on the edge of the balcony was bad enough. Entering the Barnes's house? They would see it as treason.

Steve felt like that wasn't exaggerating it.

Bucky gave him a quick smile, offering him his hand. "Just a baby hop, Steve." He nodded at him, assuring him it would be okay. "Trust me, okay?"

Steve took a deep breath, butterflies in his stomach. He leapt, and Bucky grabbed his hand.

The jump was smaller than Steve had prepared for - he slammed against Bucky's chest, teetering backwards. Bucky held his arms and pulled him into his room, stumbling over his heels.

Steve fought to catch his breath and Bucky was incredibly aware of his hands on his chest. He let him go, and Steve stepped back.

"Um," he said nervously. "Uh, thanks."

Bucky nodded and waited for him to collect himself. Then Steve looked around, and Bucky could breathe again when the silence disappeared. "Welcome to my extremely humble abode," he announced, lifting his arms into the air only to let them slap against his legs again. "It isn't much, but..."

"I think it's nice," Steve argued, facing him again. Bucky smirked and eyed his room.

"Thanks, but it's crap," he said, hands on his hips. "Still," he sighed. "Better than being homeless."

That seemed to prompt Charlie into the room. He was taller than Steve by a couple inches. Steve stared up at him. Charlie flicked his gaze to Bucky, looking amused.

"So this is the boy we've been hearing about, eh?" Charlie shook Steve's hand.

"Steve Rogers," Steve said and smiled. Charlie grinned back and nodded.

"Pleasure." He looked at Bucky. "I'm Charlie. Bucky's told us all about you."

Bucky reddened as he recalled the past couple weeks. In passing, mentioning what Steve does at school. Talking to Charlie what he looked like. Avoiding his dad's incessant questions about "Do you like this boy?" "What's his major going to be?" "How many siblings does he have?" And, of course, "Will he become a lawyer then?"

(Steve hated the thought of being a lawyer, judge or doctor. His mom was already a surgeon - he had no interest in it)

Steve was turning pink, too. He glanced at the floorboards, suddenly pretending to be very interested in the half-destroyed rubic's cube by the bed closest to him.

Bucky shot Charlie a glare. "Charlie," he hissed. Charlie smirked and rolled his eyes at him.

Bucky quickly led them past Charlie, screaming internally. "Ignore him, he's just an *ss," he laughed nervously.

"Oh, he seems peachy," Steve crooned and Bucky rolled his eyes.

"Right," Bucky droned. Steve couldn't help but smirk at him as they walked downstairs.

It wasn't what Steve had been expecting. It wasn't messy, or clean - it was just lived-in - something Steve hadn't actually seen in a while.

As Bucky introduced him to his many siblings, Steve tried to keep track of the easy things to identify them all.

Teddy was soft; Becca was... Becca; Charlie was pretty cool; Christopher was clever. They stepped into the kitchen and ran into Emma.

"Bucky, you talking to yourself again?"

He rolled his eyes to Steve. "Emma thinks that because mom's sick, she can be her stand in," he murmured. Emma turned to face them and she smiled, her usually hard features softening. "This is my friend Steve."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Emma said before facing the brunet again. "Dad's home in an hour, okay? Dinner."

"Fine." He turned to Steve again and looked at him expectantly. "So?"

"So?"

Bucky smiled. "You wanna hang around for a bit? Make a pie, watch a show, go for a walk?"

Steve smiled gratefully. "I'd love to."