⊹ ࣪ ˖ And there was Juliette, perched on the counter like she owned the place—which, honestly, she kind of did. She had your hairbrush in her tiny fist, dragging it through Bucky's hair with intense concentration, her little tongue poking out the corner of her mouth.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ "Daddy, hold still," she demanded, tugging at a strand.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ "I'm tryin', Jules," Bucky said, voice a little muffled from the angle, not missing a beat with the razor. "But if I hold still, I'm gonna cut myself."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ "Then just stop shaving."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ He huffed a laugh, the kind that made his shoulders shake just slightly. He hadn't heard you come in.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ The sink water dripped. A few stray strands of hair had fallen onto Juliette's overalls. She was wearing the ones with the little strawberries on the front.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ "There," he said, rinsing the razor. "All done. Did a good job?"

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Juliette studied his hair critically, tilting her head. "You have a bumpy head."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ "That's just my skull, sweetheart. Everyone's got one."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ She considered that, then turned her attention to the brush again, trying to comb through a knot that wasn't there.