Sebastian Stan Short Stories

Bucky Barnes [16]

"Daydreams Part Two"

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Bucky's POV

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"Gabriel George Barnes, you're leaving for school in ten minutes and not a second later. Come downstairs and eat breakfast," my wife yelled. Our middle son, Grant, smirked at the table, and I gently kicked his shin.

"You took just as long on your first day of high school too," I reminded him. Before he could argue, his mother came pacing back into the room, realized she was still carrying a pot of coffee, and sat it down on the table in a daze. I took her hand before she could run off again in search of some menial chore that didn't need to be done and pulled her onto my lap.

"Very smooth, darling," she said quietly. She leaned in to kiss me right as two teenage boys began to groan.

"I would've stayed upstairs if I had known you'd be doing this," George told us. Grant mumbled a similar sentiment. Quite on purpose, I began kissing my wife's neck.

"What were you doing up there anyway?" she asked, laughing as she half-heartedly swatted me away.

"Probably fixing his hair for Susan Green," Grant teased. George sat down, and the two immediately began picking on each other. With J.J. starting his freshman year of college, there was one less brother in the house to start fights. That just meant the younger two picked up his slack.

"Shut up!" George shouted, reaching across the table to try punching Grant in the arm. Their fight rose from a screaming match to a near fist-fight.

"Aren't you glad we stopped at three?" their mother asked me, straightening my shirt collar.

"I think Steve might count as the oldest, so that makes four," I pointed out. She let out a loud and happy laugh before we stopped our sons from giving each other black eyes on the first day of school. Because it had happened before.

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In looks alone, J.J. could pass for a younger version of myself. Dark hair, baby blues, tall and broad shouldered. In personality though, Grant was practically my twin. Namely, he wasn't thrilled to have his picture taken when he was already a little frustrated by being forced into a monkey suit for a school formal.

"Mom, please stop."

She didn't stop. She straightened his tie and the shoulders of the jacket he had stolen from J.J.'s half abandoned closet.

"Please, just one more," she urged.

"Jenny isn't even here yet," Grant reminded her. She fiddled with the camera in her hand, winding the film for yet another picture.

"I'll get plenty of pictures of the two of you when she gets here, but I want some of just you. Now stand up a little straighter for me."

Grant squared his shoulders and put a smile on his face for his mother.

"I'm the middle child. I'm not supposed to get this much attention," he complained.

"Did Ma take this many pictures of my last school dance?" J.J. asked. He was already out for the summer and back in his old bedroom upstairs.

"I don't think so. I think it's a maternal thing. All her children are growing up so she has to take more pictures as the younger ones get older," I tried to logic out. George came to stand between J.J. and me, watching his mother and older brother argue over just how many pictures were too many.

"Looking forward to this, little brother?" J.J. asked him. George nervously shook his head. He was already as tall as Grant, who was nearly as tall as me, and he was three years younger. But he was a bean pole and twice as smart as I'd ever be.