Call The Writers

“How’s Dad?” You ask you mother quickly as she gets to the door.

“Doing well, he asked to see you both today.” Your mom ushers the two of you inside. She admires the way you and Bucky have a subtle communication.

“I’m glad. Sounds like we should have a few good Christmases,” you try to be positive. While he has had a few memory lapses in the prior months, he seems generally well and aware.

“Yes- at least enough for children.” Your mother has been over eager.

“Mom! We aren’t even married. We barely live together.” You scold her, a bit worried Bucky will feel pressured for real this Christmas.

“Well, I’m sure you’d like to be! Tell this young man to get on it!” Your mom only stops when your dad enters, and you feel the way Bucky pauses beside you.

After the greetings, you sense Bucky being more hesitant than usual.

“What did you mean, we barely live together?” Bucky invited you to stay ‘forever’ a couple of months back. But you’d been spending every night together for much longer.

“I- I just meant it’s still new! We aren’t exactly rushing to get married.” You feel a bit surprised by his response. He always discussed with you about wanting the same things. Recently, he even brought up the topic of engagement and you said you would be interested when the time was right.

Was the time now?

“I love you, I don’t feel rushed to do anything. Do you?” Bucky tries to speak quietly so your parents don’t hear the debate.

“Bucky, I didn’t mean anything. I love you, I like living together, and I don’t see myself ever going anywhere. I just didn’t want her on our case. If something happens, I want to know it’s not because my dad is standing with a shotgun at the wedding.” You try very rapidly to explain that you weren’t trying to dismiss the seriousness of your relationship.

He snaps his mouth closed when your parents enter with stockings and gifts for under the tree. But he seems somewhat more affectionate and yet distracted the entire night. Your dad tries to play a particular record just for Bucky, which he declines and asks to do so later.

When he helps your mother bake (with guidance) he seems sad when she tries to be playful. She rubs his arm like he’s her very own son as she tries to comfort him.

You see them stare at the decorations for the cookies before he pours the candles and sprinkles and everything into a bag.

“Later,” your mom says.

“Later,” he agrees quietly.

Have you missed something? Bucky rarely behaves like such a kicked puppy. Your parents came to the city to see a specialist for your dad recently, and he had even taken them to dinner when they got in. After their visit, he had seemed boldly affectionate and bright.

“You feelin’ okay? Are you upset because my dad talked to you about the war again?” You worry someone pressed a button for him.

“I am wonderful, little lady. Your family could not be kinder. Would you like to show me another Christmas film?” Bucky kisses your crown and hands you a sugar cookie.

“Uh, okay.” You know he wanted to see the Grinch this year. Your parents also have a movie or two to show him.

Bucky tucks you in beside him in the love seat. It’s a habit from only having a small couch in your apartment. He often has you sit with your legs in his lap under the blankets, distracting you with showers of kisses whenever he likes. He opts to hold your hand under the blanket, instead, with an audience.

You notice how he traces your hand, palm, and fingers. He twists the rings on your index fingers. And swirls his fingertips under your bracelets. All you know, is he is not interested in The Holiday.

When you have dinner, your dad asks repeatedly what is new. It’s concerning, due to his memory troubles, and you get entirely swept up in whether he’s very aware. Bucky tries to calm you, but you remain hyper aware of your father’s behaviours and little sticky notes.

“Dessert, dear,” your father requests.

Your mom pauses, smiling at him softly

“I must have forgot to get some. That’s alright, we can have it tomorrow.” She starts to clear dishes and Bucky stands to assist.

“I saw a cake, it’s in the fridge.” Your dad seems confused and you worry for him.

“Let me go get him something, Mom. Bucky and I can step out to the store. Do you need anything else? Maybe things for the party tomorrow?”

“Oh, we have party decorations. They’re in the bedroom, right, Dear? Big celebration.” Your dad is stopped by your mother who retrieved a small list.

“Get him something chocolate, and perhaps some iced cream. There will be plenty enough of everything else.” She kisses both your cheeks and sends you out.

“I’m worried about my dad,” you break the awkward silence.

“I think he’s having an off day. Sounds like he has been doing well.” Bucky drives and quickly kisses your hand.

“How can you say that? He has been making no sense.” Is he just pretending so he doesn’t have to worry about it? That hurts you and makes you question whether he will be there when you need him.

“Let’s get him a dessert, and help your mom out for her party. If he’s still unusual by morning, we will try to talk about it with your mom, alright?” He does seem to care, but you feel put out.

Bucky loves to run errands with you. It helps him feel a little more comfortable when things are new or different. Errors with bank cards, self-checkouts, or how certain stores need memberships.

He also likes to keep you close, flirt in public, and make sure anything you want is purchased.

“We can stay up late? Maybe do some things just the two of us? I’m sorry I’ve made you come here, twice.” You start feeling that maybe you’ve asked for too much. Maybe Bucky wasn’t comfortable being back here.

“No, this is perfect. I did want to come back. Stop worrying over me, I just want your Christmas to be amazing and I got thrown off. But I want to get some rest tonight and start fresh with a walk with your parents tomorrow.”

You nod, holding his hand again and trying to shake the strange feeling.

Your sleep is as good as ever, but you know Bucky isn’t resting well.

“Good morning,” he rumbles into your ear when you wake before him.

“Good morning, Handsome. Are you sure everything is alright?” You rub his temples and kiss him while his eyes are closed.

“Ah, it’s fine. I’m just a little anxious. Maybe a walk would do us some good.” He pulls you close and you half wonder about going back to sleep for a while.

Bucky reacts strangely when you tell someone your parents know that he’s your boyfriend. It makes you feel suddenly unnerved.

Is Bucky having second thoughts? He sends your mother and you out to have manicures and relax. He wants to help your dad with a few things.

“Has Bucky seemed strange to you?”

“Not at all,” your mother dismisses.

“Really? I… I feel like he doesn’t want to spend as much time together. He was super weird when I introduced him as my boyfriend. Maybe… maybe being back made him realize it was just a cute little romance but he doesn’t feel the same.”

Your lip wobbles as your nails are drying.

“Oh, honey. I can promise that is not the case. He is at home taking care of things for your father as we speak. He wanted us to go out and relax together. And everyone can see the way he looks at you.” She looks to you fondly and you try to ease your worry.

The party is pleasant, everyone is pouring affection toward you and Bucky. He seems more himself, openly flirting and touching. New nicknames every chance.

Again, everyone leaves fairly early. It’s around 11pm and he is watching a movie with you across his lap.

“I love you,” he says in a hushed voice.

You hum, somewhat sleepy after so much food and socialization. Now, your nerves are exhausted, and you’re ready for bed.

“How long?” He nuzzles his nose into your hair and gently rouses you.

“What?” You have your eyes closed, cuddled up into him and trying to stay in the warm and cozy headspace.

“How long do you want to be loved?” He asked this once before, and you remember what you said then.

“Forever.”

“Dove? Kitten? Beautiful girl?” He wakes you just a hair more, and you feel him play with your fingers again under the soft blanket.

You pry your sleepy eyes open and see Bucky staring at you. His eyes are full of love.

“Is forever with me enough?”

Bucky slips a ring around your finger, beneath the warm blanket he draped over you.

Your fingers twist the ring around, unbelieving it’s really there. His words come together in your brain and you feel you must have misunderstood.

“Bucky, what are you asking?” Your heart races and you can feel Bucky’s do the same. He pulls you into a long, deep kiss where his tongue explores your mouth and you gift him his favourite sounds.

“Will you marry me?”

After how everything has gone, you are surprised by this event. Sure, you had spoken about it. It had always been on the table for both of you, and Bucky never failed to make it clear that he wanted a wife and kids some day. He’s really asking.

“Oh, my god, yes!” You kiss him with abandon and feel a bubble of emotion overflow from you.

You’re relieved, thrilled, and you feel like the rest of your life will be better than you ever dreamed. Bucky never fails to shake your world with pure adoration and love. He makes you feel brilliant and beautiful and unstoppable.

Bucky smiles like the Cheshire Cat as he holds your face and kisses you again.

You check out the ring, something exactly your taste and gorgeous. Before you can say more, your mother rushes downstairs.

“She said yes!?” Your mother rushes you.

“Is this why we got our nails done?” You look at your gorgeous Christmas acrylics and the sparkle of the ring.

“Yes! Wait- we have dessert!” Your mom races to the downstairs fridge and retrieves a cake with Congratulations on it, with your names.

“Dad! You really did see a cake!” Everything falls together in your mind. Your father brings down balloons with a congratulations sign as well, and you are giddy.

“Bucky, I love you so much.”

“I tried so many times to do this, but it never felt right. I asked your folks to have everything ready because I was going to ask before we got here. Love, you are it for me. I love every minute with you. I can’t wait to have my life with you.”

A life with him. Everything with one person who fits into your life like a globe and wants everything you do.

“I can’t believe you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.” You kiss him and can’t wait to tell everyone at the tower.

“How are you gonna top this next Christmas?” Your mom teases.

TW: grief, loss, pregnancy, miscarriage, death, light smut, romance, emotional

written as vague characters who can be filled by anyone, but with certain characters or actors in mind.

I feel this piece is beautiful but haunting, and I gave it a happy ending so nobody hates me. Please give me feedback, I’m new to Tumblr and it’s scary!

————————

Life and Death.

They brought each other gifts through all of time.

When they were young, he would bring her seeds, buried like the dead. She would return with beautiful flowers.

At times, he called to her for things he was sure were mistakenly given to him. She would watch sadly, as he understood that eggs, or young, or the weak, were still his territory and could not be gifted back.

After they grew up, he understood more. Every soul or item was a gift, in the end. As the world spread, he was busier but more fulfilled. He guided those into the dark who needed it.

When there were those who hesitated, he was patient. When some sought him too soon, he asked them to be patient.

The harmed were made comfortable. He always made sure this would greet people. Every soul was adored and treated kindly, so he could transform them later, and gift them back to Life.

He loves Life. He takes care of all of her work.

Life visited Death frequently. They sometimes had the same assignments, and had to work together to see who would take them home. She loved the way he carefully extracted them from her grasp, when they were his to take.

She loved him. She knew he loved her, too. They played, and grew, and changed, together.

As they matured, they met more. They often danced, they whispered, and they learned about each other. The gifts were sometimes innumerable, sometimes shared between them at length. The change of hands was not always quick.

Death gave Life her purpose, her passion, and care for everything she nurtured.

Young, but grown, they watch this little world around them change. They fall in love, more and more. Death grows quiet, and pensive. Life doubles her efforts, to try bringing him a smile.

“I can see you trying. I’m alright, you know.” Death saw her watching as he guided a group of the elderly down the beautiful path he had made. It had images of all their family and favourite memories.

“I had a large gift for you, this time. I wanted to see how you care for them.” She watched as he carefully steered everyone toward peace and tranquility. The afterlife.

He treated each senior like gold. She observed his kind touch, and his sad smile.

It weighed on him, she knew it did. He thought more than he spoke, which always mesmerized her. It was never lost on him, how it affected the living, when he arrived or when he had to guide their loved ones away.

“Thank you.”

He looked up, unsure what she meant.

“I get to watch them grow. I give many a family, and I’ve been with each for generations. I’m not sure I’ve ever thanked you for handling them so kindly. Not all reapers do.” She knew he needed to hear it.

Death nodded, aware that others had been more malevolent. They fell in stride with Famine, Pollution, Greed, and War. He had never made such friends, and she had adored him for it.

Life had always been his crush. They worked opposite ends, but they stood by each other.

“You give them such beautiful lives, they are ready when they go. At least the old. They are easy to care for, when they arrive.” Death explained how his work had been made so easy.

She had watched him hover, near people he was meant to reap. He often knew before she did, these days, with the elderly. Accidents, sometimes she would race to, only to see him arrive in a cloud of smoke, and offer his hand to those he was charged with.

Her gifts to him were plentiful, but to finish out her eternal calling, she needed a new Life to take her place. Death was only welcome to finish his existence as a mortal when he found peace. It was his charge that his soul was heavily burdened with all of the hurt and hate and trauma of those he reaped.

Once he learned from it all, he could live properly. Born again.

“Do you still love me?” Life asked when he was waiting at a tragic scene. A loved one, passing on, while the other begged them to stay.

“Always. I keep every soul from you cherished, as they move forward. Some, even ask if they will see you again. But I love you for your hope, and light, and how you make sure each seed flourishes.” He took her hand.

Life felt the turn of the earth slow, as her hand held his. She stretched, microscopically, until finally her lips met his.

They had done this many times, not forbidden but confusing. Their entities were very mortal, but she never understood the intricate connection between them. Neither did he.

Death dipped her back, kissing deeply but slowly. He had a very special gift to offer, and she knew it. Her head spun with the want of it.

This adventure was seemingly the pinnacle of Life. It was her destiny. With everything she had ever done, and learned, she could do this.

“Tell me, if you aren’t ready. If you want to do this with someone else.” Death gripped her body, and kissed her neck.

“Don’t stop.” She hitched her breath as he pulled her floral gown up, then over her head.

His black robes seemed to turn to ash in her hands. They disappeared. She groaned as their bodies joined. He knew her, but this time was different. This time, she was waiting to complete her ultimate task of Life.

Death had dreamed for centuries, of being the one to share this gift.

The two moved as one, and cried out in harmony. They promised love, and Death caressed her face as his features were unreadable.

“Do you still love me?” He asked as she tucked in beside him. Their work would wait until tomorrow.

“Yes. You hold all of the depth that makes life so amazing. It hurts you, and I’m sorry. But it makes you… caring. I’ve never felt like someone would always be there for me, like you.” She nuzzled into his chest, listening to the echo of his heart.

—

For months afterward, they slept entangled.

Life.

She was blissful. She felt her calling, her blessing, her finale before becoming mortal and using her gift.

To create life with her would free Death from his torment. It would unshackle him from his cage, and allow him to be alive at last. And he could grow old with her.

The two existed in a bubble, Death accepting all of her gifts. Life growing his.

—

Death swept through valleys. An illness, this time. He sighed as he laboured over each. Some tried to outrun him, or barter, or argue. His day was long and arduous.

The shift of his call to guide happened all around him. From his shrouded den, he saw a sliver of light through a doorway. It beckoned him over.

A stone sank in his gut as he heard her hum. He has done this before, taken a small token from Life, and which also somehow was always heavy. Fresh life was so tender, and so hard for him to take.

Pushing the door, he saw her. Only she wasn’t holding a sweet child, smiling sadly as she saw him arrive instead of any of the other reapers. She was trembling, and the glow of Life was vacant.

“No,” he breathed.

She nodded, looking back down. She stroked the new baby in her arms, a few weeks early. His baby.

“You are Life. I leave her to you!” Death gritted his teeth. It was rare for him to cry or deny a life passage.

It never worked. He knew that when he had to take her favourite dog, years ago. It had been hit by a car, and he was certain that if he declined hard enough, he could save it.

But there was nothing worse than a soul becoming a ghost. It was agony for him, as well as them. And he knew he couldn’t prevent this little bundle from joining him.

“Another gift,” she weakly said. Her heart was breaking, and he set next to her on her bed. “I wish you wouldn’t take her.”

“I wish I could return your gifts. At least this one.” He stroked the incredibly tiny baby’s features.

Life was in despair, and he wanted to help. There wasn’t a way. They’d done this dance before, but never like this.

“I think she wanted to be with you.” Life quietly wrapped the child up, as the little snuffles and squirms weakened.

“I will take great care of her.” Death knows he can ensure that much. For her mother, and for her, he will make this the most tranquil passing.

Life had no lustre at this moment. She looked drained. He half wondered if she still gained her mortality, and whether that made this worse or better.

“You didn’t call me.” He wiped the tears streaming all the way down her chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I knew you would follow.”

“You didn’t want me to come early,” he understood.

Life nodded, brokenly.

The baby was still in her arms. So precious, so soft. He stared at the resting eyes and knew he only had a moment left to watch. She looked like her mother.

“I don’t wish to take her. She should be yours, if she can’t be ours. She was my gift to you.” He felt his throat close. This was never the plan.

He had always considered that he would not be free to become mortal, like Life would. It could take more than this creation to untether him. But he had always envisioned Life with her little one.

Life never took her eyes off her child. She stared and memorized, and listened. As she did so, he felt the calling grow stronger and deeper.

His arms reached out, and he knew this was Life’s goodbye. It was he who would take custody, this time.

“Do you still love me?” Life cried and shook with the effort. It must have hurt, her body worn and aching.

“Always. We can… we can try again, perhaps. But if we are stuck here for eternity, I would always want to be with you. I’m so sorry, that this happened.” His voice cracked, and his breaths shook his body.

The babes face was innocence. She only knew love. She only knew her mother’s heartbeat, and her father’s voice.

“Please be gentle with her. Take care of her.” Life sobbed at him.

“I would do nothing less. Never less.” Death takes one last look at his daughter’s face, before he sweeps the cloth over her.

Life weeps, as she feels the small weight slip from her arms. Death swears he feels the veil between himself and Life fade, as he does.

His final task is to carry this soul over. It was never about proving he could create Life with Life herself. It was about understanding grief, mourning, loss, and himself. Death.

The small bundle was reanimated by their soul. He saw the child’s life, their existence simply being at her mother’s breast and listening to her heart. Then, he felt the bursts of love and purity that always came with situations like these.

Their daughter felt love, and gave love, and very little else. He used what he could gather, and as he did with others like her, he filled the path to the afterlife with a heartbeat and a lullaby. He didn’t fight it, and didn’t barter for her.

To be mortal, he will have to experience this. Loss. Pain. He knew he would need to, but he never knew it would hurt like this.

The path was filled with singing birds, and scented flowers, and animals. She was too young to really understand, but he felt the squeeze of his finger as she slept and listened to the heartbeat. He knew to take care of this sweet little soul.

He felt it, when he passed her on. The holiness and godliness of it all peeled away, like he was being stripped. All he felt consumed him.

“Why punish Life for this? Why take our…” his voice grew weak against the knot in his throat.

He was angry. But he understood.

They would need to understand each other. She, the ability to let go and grieve, for the first time. He, the yearning to create life and watch as it flourished.

It was an understanding he would rather have found another way. But their callings had brought them together, that was certain.

—

Death crawled into the bed next to Life. Only they were not Life and Death. They were heartbroken mortals.

“Human for two years,” he murmured.

“Yeah… two years. It’s been wonderful, but I still miss her.” She replied and cupped his cheek.

“I know. Every time someone coughs or falls, I expect to feel the call. I know every way to die, and I watch for it in everyone. It hurts, to remember the loss.” Death considered his heartache that never left, its container only grew.

“Do you think I can still do it? Create life?” She guided his hand to splay over her middle.

“What if I can only take it?” The thoughts had plagued him, every time they made new friends. What if he somehow inadvertently started reaping again? Or brought Death to others prematurely?

“I love you. This is more than a gift or right of passage. We’re just people. They do this, all the time.” She was certain, and smiled.

—

She caressed her slightly swollen middle as they looked at black and white images. She lit up every time her friends congratulated her.

He worried every time she was sick, or cramped, or waddled. She grinned like he’d given her the best gift of all. Although he was scared, she was impervious and hopeful.

The best part of being human, yet the worst part, was not knowing. As Death, he knew the call. He knew the signs, the reasons, the plans, and the paths around him. But as a mortal, he had to let time flow as it may.

In doing so, he found joy in small moments and events. They loved and cried and grieved, but time had an effect on mortals that it never had when they had roles. It made everything move forward, with or without them.

Even Life didn’t know what would come. A boy or girl, healthy or not. It was a mystery.

When they held a fragile newborn, Death checked mother and child a dozen times. He didn’t sleep all night, certain every shadow was a reaper. But come morning, Life felt nothing but joy.

They were no longer on the fringes of existence. They didn’t strictly act as life and death any longer. They made a mortal, because they were mortal. Someone filled with vitality and potential, who would age and grow and hurt and laugh and love and lose until they themselves were lost.

Humans.

That’s all they were, now. So much more than only what their god-selves had been, and giving so much more than what they’d been previously able to give.

—

“And what do you want for our anniversary?” He asked early in the day. The children were racing to the bus, late again.

“I’ve liked your gifts every other time you forgot to get one. Maybe we can do that again.” She kissed him. He groaned.

“Already done, you know.” His hand splays and drums on her baby belly.

“Guess you should really start paying attention to the calendar. This one was your last freebie.” She feels their baby kick and he frets again.

After all the lives he claimed, all the wars and famines and diseases, he is grateful he was freed from his role. Making little humans made him happier than ever, knowing everything was infinite yet finite. Life was thrilled to create in her new way, but held a silent vigil for her gift to him, from long ago.

They have three children. They’re not gods nor close. They’re happy, they suffer, they learn. The experience was unique and beautiful.

Bucky has been a little off centre when you’re around.

You know he wants to announce your relationship loudly to anyone who will listen. Natasha and Steve have tried to leave everything in your hands, but they smile knowingly.

You’re worried it’ll change your work relationship. Or that it’ll stir trouble with other admin staff, if they think anyone’s playing favourites. Some jealously might rise, and you can’t blame them.

Sam catches on first, when Bucky leads you to the apartment level and swears everyone’s on a mission. You lie lamely about looking for a new place, and Bucky gets you stuck in a platonic dinner.

It’s not until your father accidentally calls your work phone, a little disoriented, that anyone on your work team catches the scent. Your dad thinks he reached you, and starts asking about Bucky and saying you should invite him on the family trip he’d got them for Christmas.

Luckily, it was a work friend who answered. She immediately ran squealing over, begging and begging for information. She’s happy for you, but sworn to secrecy.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Bucky suggests when you have him at your home. Prospect Park isn’t far. It’s not close enough to the Tower to worry about running into anyone.

“Only if you warm me up after,” you tease.

“Oh, little lady,” he tips your jaw back and sucks at your neck, pulling your legs to hitch on his hips, “I know how to do that.”

You giggle and kiss him soundly, prompting him to get dressed warmly and venture out with him.

“Oh,” he stops just feet away from your door. “Sam texted.”

“Oh,” you try hiding your disappointment.

“No, I… I actually have an idea. He said Stark covered Central Park in fake snow over Christmas. Probably generating good will or something. Would you like to go?” Bucky acts like it’s the first time he’s asked you out.

It does make your heart race. He looks so nervous and you love it. He has been displeased by the cold of winter, and fairly happy without much snow. So you know he wants to see you happy.

“I’d love to.”

At first, you’re on the lookout for people you know. Bucky didn’t tell Sam you were going, he just wanted you to have the choice. Everything was pretty, heaped in more snow than the city ever got. There was a little space with a mountain of snow for sliding down, a Snowman competition, and several dozen attempts at snow angels from people.

The water looks gorgeous covered in snow, and you have to wonder if it surprised the animals or vegetation.

Bucky takes you behind the trees,and you realize this is the first time he’s asked to kiss you in public. He has taken you out, especially if the others are away. But you save the affection for your apartment.

“Can I?” He presses you against a tree, holding your hips as your wrists wrap over his shoulders.

When you nod, he kisses you deeply and for as long as he can. Suddenly every single reason not to is irrelevant and far away.

Bucky abruptly ends your mini-make out and when you open your eyes, it’s obvious why. Redwing is hovering right next to you, just out of Bucky’s reach.

“Sam!” He shouts and reaches for the device, which backs away just slightly.

Bucky ducks down and grabs a fistful of snow, whipping it at the droid. You try desperately not to laugh, until the knock of your body into the tree pours fresh snow down on you both. Then you burst into side-splitting giggles and pull Bucky down to kiss you again.

The distraction offers someone the perfect opportunity to return the snowball on Redwing’s behalf. The explosion of snow at Bucky’s shoulder makes him growl and nip your lip, now uncaring who might catch you two.

Another careens into Bucky, you know it’s from Sam and grin at the way Bucky ignores him. You’re a little distracted, so you’re not going to stop or give Sam the rise he’s wanting.

One snowball sends snow all over the front of you and your face from the way it splashes. He immediately responds to that.

“Sam!” He spins and sees Sam shocked that you’re the one doused in melting ice.

They hurl snow at each other like school boys and you watch in amusement. Until a stray throw hits you directly. You immediately scramble to throw one back, and miss sorely. Bucky comes to your rescue and tosses several at Sam in a row.

“If you’d just told me—”

“I don’t have to tell you!”

“Well, you’re in a building full of spies and superheroes. We’re gonna notice you sneaking around,” he shrugs and moves to help get the snow off of you.

Bucky brushes it off of your hair and tries to make sure nothing frozen is down your coat.

“Uh, nice to see you outside of work,” you try to say to Sam.

“It’s great to see you two together. I was worried he missed that boat a long time ago.” He watches Bucky roll his eyes and look away, a bit embarrassed that he’s clearly talked about you for a long while.

“You should have heard my parents. They couldn’t keep it together meeting him.”

“Your parents!?” Sam punches Bucky in the shoulder and gives him a bear hug. Suddenly, you’re aware that not everyone was told about Bucky’s holiday mission.

“Uh, yeah. It’s a long story, but I spent Christmas at her folks’ house with her. We are a couple now.” Bucky wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Reeeeaaally,” Sam gives you both a once over.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” Bucky growls.

“Nah, just thinking about all the sad men and women on behalf of you both.” Sam holds each of your shoulders and beams at you. “How did your parents take it?”

“They kinda knew about him, so they were actually really happy to meet him. I think they both fell in love with him.” You laugh at how hard they hugged him before he left.

“Oh yeah? Just your family?”

Bucky looks down at you warmly and with mischief at the question. You feel put on the spot, so he pulls you close and changes the subject.

“Will you keep this to yourself for now? She didn’t really want to share, yet.” Bucky holds your hand.

“Actually, I think I’m okay.” You hug him close to your side, only a little nervous.

“Good- ‘cause I told everyone to meet here before I caught you two.” Sam ducks as Bucky whips another snowball at him for being a pain.

“Uh oh,” Natasha’s voice rings out from nearby. “Sam found our favourite couple. Wonder what they were up to!”

Sam’s wicked smile turns into a face of betrayal.

“They knew!? How long has this been going on?”

“Only since Christmas. Bucky was supposed to escort me since I had a Hydra target. Turned out we liked each other’s company.” You try desperately to read the way Bucky is looking at everyone.

“We knew they’d both just stay in limbo forever. Gave them a little nudge. So, cats out of the bag?” Steve nudges Bucky and notices he is also a little disturbed by all of this.

“You okay? I’m happy to do something as a group, if you’d like?” You squeeze his hand, remembering he feels pressure better.

“I… I just had plans. But I suppose I can kick this birds ass at a few snow games before we go.” Bucky sees how bad Sam wants everyone to join in.

“I want to play!” You finally stop thinking so much about kissing Bucky that you see the different options for games in the snow.

“I’ll make you a deal. If you can knock me into the Hot Chocolate dunk first, I’ll keep this quiet for ya. If I get you, you pay my bar tab, and tonight, we go out.” Sam sees Bucky quirk his mouth at that.

“You’re on.”

The game is triggered when a snowball hits the trigger on the opposite side.

The two hurl pre-made snowballs at each other and the trigger. It’s full of cheers from the crowd, and the moderator announces that for more donations to the charity, people can also try hitting the target. Natasha and Steve immediately line up, one for Sam and one for Bucky.

You watch attentively as they holler and whoop at each other, and two of the three triggers are gone for both men. They’re doing their best to block the triggers with their bodies. It’s made them both so wet with snow you wonder why they wouldn’t just allow the dunk.

Natasha waits patiently for Sam to be throwing, coaxing a cocky response from Bucky just as Natasha hits the final trigger. He falls into the warm chocolate water with “marshmallows” and emerges with a wild smile, throwing his hair back and wiping his face.

You run over to see him at the edge of the tank, only about shoulder deep for you. He is dripping with the liquid and you aren’t sure if you should reach out.

“Are you alright!?” It’s all you can get out over the fits of laughter, yours and everyone else’s.

Bucky only stares at you, enjoying the way your hands hold his soaked face.

“Bucky? Did you hit your head? Sam’s not gonna keep himself quiet for long. Now we have to go to a bar!” You lament through more giggles.

Everyone waits for him to respond. His inhales are heavy and wild.

“I love you,” he breathes.

You grab the back of his neck and kiss him, ignoring that your arms and face are sticky and damp. More cheers erupt, including from Sam.

“I love you, too.”

——

The dinner is astounding. Your mom always makes sure it is.

Bucky stares at everything like he can’t believe his eyes.

“White Christmas?” Your father calls from his own record player. You aren’t sure what he means, so you turn to look.

Bucky nods, having more understanding. Oh, he knows it. How old is this song?

“You can tell me to change it, I just thought I would ask.” Your dad starts to carve the turkey. “Were you there for the dim-outs? Can’t imagine you’ve seen a Christmas dinner like this one in a very long time, Son. We are happy to have you.”

Bucky is oddly quiet, offering a polite smile and nod. Of course there was rationing on travel, food, sugar, meats, fuel, and everything else for the last few christmases Bucky had been around. Maybe you hadn’t been very understanding of that situation.

“Your grandmother would be singing to this,” your mom reminisces. Bucky looks at you and twines his fingers in yours.

“She loved music and singing. Probably why my mom has a whole craft room. My grandfather insisted he cut the turkey every year, too. Kinda feels weird Dad is doing it,” you try to smile. Later, you’ll let your mom get emotional. Right now, you wanted everyone to enjoy the Christmas none of them expected.

“I’m happy you’re here. I’m sorry about how your life must have changed during the war. My parents would have spoken more about what things were like back then, they were born around your time.”

Wow. That was hard to imagine. Bucky was older than your grandparents, perhaps the age of their parents before them. Steve, too. You squeeze your hand where his rests, unsure of whether he would like to discuss it.

“I’m happy to be here. And to have met your daughter. Definitely feels like I was meant to be here, even if the journey wasn’t pleasant. Makes a lot of difference to know someone like her,” he smiles and kisses your hair. You’re surprised he would say all that in front of your folks.

“I’m sorry for your loss of your mother and father,” he says to your mother. “It’s never easy.”

She nods gratefully to him, a glisten in her eyes.

“She would have loved to meet you. Every year she asked our Bug if she was gonna find someone. She thought everyone should be married by 25.” Your mom rolls her eyes, she definitely heard the same lecture when she was younger. She had never pressured you but was always excited about prospects.

“Took me a while, myself,” Bucky laughs and wraps an arm around your waist. “I’m certainly not 25.”

You can’t help but shake your head. He’s so handsome, charming, and understanding. Part of you wonders if he’d still like you, back in his day. Or if you’d have liked him.

“I’d have immediately changed my ways if I found someone like her,” he turns to you. “Back then everyone was married with a kid within a year. Really locked each other down. It’s been interesting to see everything change.”

“Oh? Times have changed, have you?” Losing your grandma has made your mother desperate to see you get married and have kids immediately. But you want to take things slowly and make sure you are making good choices.

“Ah,” Bucky watches you closely as he swallows an answer. “I’m certainly not wasting any more time. But can’t rush, either.”

Cleverly avoided, you think.

“So, first full Christmas. Wouldn’t be real if someone’s mother wasn’t pestering you, would it,” your father jokes.

“I think of it as a nudge in the right direction,” Bucky says, whispering the last part to you: “pretty when you’re flustered.”

And flustered, you were.

They tell Bucky everything you used to beg for as a child. And their favourite stories of when your brother got into the stockings in the night, furiously putting away everything in the wrong ones. He had print frilly items in the morning.

All through the dinner, Bucky hedges the questions from your mother and seems genuinely interested in the music and traditions around Christmas.

Maybe he would have liked to wander through Manhattan at this time of year. Next year, you should accompany him. Perhaps your parents could fly out, depending how your father was.

“I really don’t mean to contribute to their pressure. I am happy to take things slow, I only wanted to make sure we both want the same things.” Bucky relaxes onto the bed with you, lightly kissing your forehead and cheeks.

“I know you’re not in a rush. You can say whatever this weekend. I’ll only hold it against you if you keep it up when we go home,” you smile and lean into him.

“What if I still think you’re beautiful, Kitten,” he plays with a strand of your hair. “And funny. Clever. Kind.”

You close your eyes and enjoy the way his fingers connect to your scalp, lightly rubbing your skin. A deep groan rewards his efforts.

“What if I still want to touch you?” One hand moves along the curve of your breast, to your ribs, and tickles your tummy. “Kiss you?”

Bucky leans in and guides your jaw open for a deep, languid kiss.

“I’ll find a way to live,” you reply when he’s done.

“Mmmm,” he hums as your lips lock. “Need those precious sounds. Love the way you respond.”

You gift him one strangled moan, knowing it has to be nearly silent so no one would ever know.

“Can’t wait to get you into my soundproofed walls. Perfect moans and cries, spilling for me.” Bucky pulls you to sit over him. Your matching PJs pull a chuckle from you both. The heat from his words is undeniable.

It’s all you can do to stop yourself letting out delicious sounds.

“Fuck,” you finally whisper when he pulls your hips into his, the silken hardness so close but never close enough.

“I… I don’t have another,” Bucky groans in disappointment. Right, he likely didn’t stash a thousand condoms.

“We don’t need to… we can just make out. Right?” Your head is spinning. Somehow, making out as an adult felt more personal. It felt like he had to just enjoy being with you, no payoff.

“I would kiss you all night in the pouring rain, Baby.” He wraps his arms around you, and you keen from the support and comfort.

His hands do wander, but it’s soft and exploring. You take the opportunity to do the same.

Teeth greet your lips and you know he thinks you’re funny. But your fingers are trailing his abs and it’s the first time you’ve ever felt a body like his. He invites your touch at his chest, abdominals, and he freezes when you reach his shoulder.

“Can you feel?”

“Pressure. Not really temperature. Some… some nerves are were damaged. Shuri did what she could. It’s better, now. Not painful.” He pushes your hair back and watches you carefully.

“You’d tell me if it bothered you?” Before, you had touched him at the seam, pulled on his arm when he was touching you just right. You didn’t want it to be uncomfortable.

“I’ll tell you, Dove. But you’ve been perfect. When I- is it okay? Weird?” He’s used his hand to move you, touch you, cup you, and he is afraid it’s thrown you off.

All you do is smile and kiss him.

“We should go away… just us. No one around to hear anything or influence us. If you come around the tower apartments, they’ll constantly be in our business.” Bucky lets his hands play with your body, but speaks with you sweetly.

“Whatever you like. I won’t turn down a little private time.” You slide to his side, kissing him softly and cuddling in. Part of you wished you had hidden condoms in your luggage presumptuously. The rest of you was so peaceful all you could think to do was sleep.

“Is my pretty doll ready for bed? Was kind of a big day,” he squeezes you into him.

“Yes. And I feel so good knowing you’ll be here in the morning.” You feel him pull the covers around you, a cave of body heat keeping the cold out.

“Bucky?” You whisper nervously just as his breathing evens out and you think he might be asleep.

“Yeah?” He sounds worried at the sudden shift in tone.

“If I fall… will you be there to catch me?” You can’t believe you’ve mustered up the courage to discuss any of this.

Bucky can hear suitcases roll past, as he sits against Sarah’s door in the morning. He moped in their room all night, so Sam could keep an eye on him.

AJ and Cass are awake, but locked in their room until 6 am. The kids are feral for gifts and Bucky deflates knowing they won’t get to see his the way he intended: Under the tree, with a whole group of people who loved them, and Bucky smiling shyly.

He wants so badly to urge her to stay. To kiss her again, and make big promises he has no idea if he can deliver on. If he could just give her everything she wants and needs, she will stay.

Instead, he knows he can’t pressure her. She has to make this decision on her own, for her family. It isn’t something he has a true say in, only knowing her a week. That doesn’t stop him from being somehow wounded that their shared time hadn’t been enough to encourage her to see that life was different out of shackles.

But how many times had he been given the opportunity to escape his own prison? How many times had the Winter Soldier seen freedom on the horizon, only to turn it away because it was unknown? He had always feared what would happen if he was caught, and there wasn’t even a child involved.

Bucky is so distracted he doesn’t realize, at first, that the frantic steps to Sam’s door are hers.

The rapid knocking startles him to his feet and away from the door. He’s in Sam and Sarah’s suite, not his apartment, so he can’t exactly answer.

“Sam!” He hisses and raps on Sam’s bedroom door.

“Tell those damn kids I need some sleep. It’s not even 5!” Sam calls through the door.

Bucky can’t think straight. He needs someone to answer this door or she could leave forever.

“She’s knocking! She can’t find me here, you gotta answer.” Bucky cracks the door to call out. He’s surprised at how low and even his voice is, as if he is trying not to get his hopes up.

“Ever think she went to your place first and didn’t find you?” Sam gruffly groans, and Bucky can hear him turning back over.

Is she there to find him?

The shuffle of her feet outside the door tell him she’s considering leaving. He opens it just as her suitcase is about to turn the corner.

“I— I’m sorry you have to go.” Bucky calls when nothing else comes to mind.

To his surprise, the person who whips back around the corner is Logan. He drops his suitcase and runs to Bucky, slamming him in a hug. The boys shoulders start to shake.

“Logan, are you alright?” He changes gears immediately. This isn’t some romantic swaying of her heart, he’s protecting her son and making sure he’s alright.

Logan lets out an animal groan, and Bucky knows he goes nonverbal when overwhelmed. He has heard the loud, off-pitch sounds he lets out when things are far too much, and tries to help soothe him now. The boy is clearly upset.

“Where is your mom? Does she know you’re here?” Bucky looks around and sees no one but kids who Morgan can lead around before adults are ready to get up.

From the lack of answer, Bucky can assume she has no idea where Logan is. He had wondered, since she was not an early riser, why she would be up. But now, he is surprised Logan found his way here.

“I need to let Friday know you’re here, so your mom knows where to look, is that alright?” Bucky speaks slowly and gently, trying not to push him to further distress.

When no loud complaint comes, he calls to Friday and asks the AI to notify Logan’s mother.

“Can we take you back to the common area?” Bucky receives another loud wail. “Okay— okay, no common area. Did you pack your own suitcase? Or did your mother?”

He needs to know if she planned to be leaving right now, or if she had planned to say goodbye. It’s a selfish thought, but he also wants to know if she is even aware he is gone, yet. His routine is specific to a time, and if she wasn’t up, she may not know he’s run off.

“Me,” Logan mutters. He must have calmed down a bit, if he can speak.

“Okay. Does your mom know you’re gone?”

“No.” Then he starts to flap his hands, growing very agitated. He doesn’t speak, so Bucky opens the suitcase to try offering him one of his fidget toys if it’s there.

The suitcase is filled with dinosaur toys and little else.

Despite the situation, Bucky barks a laugh. He sees every dinosaur toy Logan has opened each evening, with every Jurassic Park DVD Quill had snuck him. Than his favourite shirts, and not a stitch else.

“Logan!” She calls through gasping breaths. Barefoot, in pyjamas, with her hair raked back into a messy bun, she falls to her knees and holds her son.

“You two can come in, or I can take you back to your suite, if you’d like some privacy.” Bucky hates being in the hallway. Of all things, he hates finding himself being watched publicly most of all.

She nods, before spotting the open suitcase. Through her watery eyes, she starts to shake with laughter at the way Logan packed himself up. As she zips it all back in, she offers Logan her hand, and he takes one of hers and one of Bucky’s.

Bucky takes the suitcase in his free hand, and they navigate to their suite.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea he would take off like that. We will be packed, after breakfast. I just wanted to give you something for Christmas and thank everyone so much for taking us in and dealing with all of my drama.” She passes him one of the coffees from the tray, which he filled as they passed through the quiet kitchen.

“You’re really goin’?” He sees her nod and Logan throws his suitcase a few feet before running to his room. “I know you’re afraid, but we are going to do all we can.”

She swallows, tearing her muffin just the way she has each morning. Each move is slow, like her mind is elsewhere.

“I know he is friends with the judges. And I know I maybe asked for too much. But I meant it about the job and apartment, and Tony meant it about his lawyers. If Atticus is mixed up in what I think, maybe he will end up in jail, even.” Bucky wants to tell her about his own experiences being kept on a leash. But this is her life.

“If we stay… so much could go wrong. I don’t want to lose Logan. If he has to go back, at very least I should be there to protect him.” She is truly afraid to leave Logan alone.

“Neither of you should need protection. I want to see your boy grow up, and I want you to be there to do it. Just because he’s not violent yet doesn’t mean he never will be. And just because he doesn’t hit anyone doesn’t mean it won’t put both of you in harms way.” Bucky knows she’s been through the mental health system. Even that could be abused or used to say she’s unfit. But he knows it’s because of how Atticus has made her feel.

“I tried for years to get better. And I tried for years to work on myself, take my meds, emotionally regulate, go to therapy, or whatever else so I could be a good mother. But he weaponized the whole thing against me. And I stopped taking all the meds and believing I’m the whole problem. But I do have a lot of baggage. And I’m afraid I’ve given him too much evidence that he should be the one with Logan.” She avoids his eye as she admits what she thinks is shameful.

“Rebuild, here. I can’t promise I know exactly how it will all work out. But I’ve got you two gifts under the tree. And I know Logan seems like he wants to stay, and he has friends. It’s Christmas. First one I’ve spent outside of a locked door in decades. I want to enjoy it and let Logan feel happy.” Bucky knows he is on dangerous ground again. These feelings are big, and confusing for her as well.

She nods, agreeing to stay. But he isn’t sure what it means or if she will follow through.

Bucky watches her go and tell Logan they’ll stay for Christmas. He seems relieved, but also exhausted from his very early morning. He opts to sleep to his regular routine time.

Bucky knows gifts don’t start being opened until 8am, which gives them a solid three hours. Three hours is a lot of time.

“Think you can sleep at all? Sorry you were up at 4:30.” Bucky winces at the clock. Maybe he better get back to bed, after spending the entire night anxiously moping.

“Will you… will you join me? Just for a nap? I had nightmares all night about going back to Atticus and what would happen.” She hasn’t slept much, and was heartbroken to consider leaving Bucky.

Bucky can hardly think at all as he accepts her offer. He hasn’t felt this intimate with anyone, possibly his whole life. They slip into her bed, awkwardly, and she finally relaxes when his arms wrap her up.

For a while, they do sleep. At least it feels like a while, but Bucky sees it’s hardly after 5 when he blinks his eyes back open. She’s hitched a leg over his hips, and his brain is going crazy. He’d taken ages, that evening, to get his lower body under control.

She seems peacefully unaware of his internal fire. Bucky, on the other hand, can feel every muscle and blood vessel in his super soldier body reacting to her touch and the warmth from between her thighs. He tries to shift away, a little, but it makes her thigh graze the front of him.

Bucky groans, long and low. This may have been out of his depth.

“Sorry.” She pulls her leg away and he feels the cool air sweep through where she had been. This is far less comfortable.

Bucky wordlessly reaches over to her side beneath the quilt, wrapping his hand around her thigh and pulling it back across this lap. She stops breathing as he adjusts her palm back to his chest, and stays still.

There’s so much tension in the air he swears he can see it move. There’s just enough light in the room from the Christmas displays outside that Bucky can see her silhouette.

She presses her cheek to his chest, but he remains immobile. She stretches up, ghosting her lips on his neck. Even his super soldier heart can’t take it, pounding and hammering beneath her palm.

Her lips move to his stubble, then to the corner of his mouth. All resolve is spoiled, and he finds her mouth with hunger and desperation.

Bucky practically swallows her whole in the blankets and his body, swooping above her. He nips at her lips and growls as she claws his back.

“I don’t want to get carried away.” Bucky rasps each word as she sucks at his neck. It’s not enough to mark him up for Christmas, and that’s almost disappointing.

“Bucky, I… I haven’t felt attractive or wanted in a very long time. I know you are freaking out about being overly enthusiastic, but I literally could not need anything more right now.” She nervously presses against him.

“He never… hurt you?”

“No! No, but it’s been a long time since he even looked my way. I gave up trying when I found out he was sleeping with his partner. I really like you, though. And I trust you.” She kisses the corner of his mouth, trying to find the same magnetic response as before.

“Need you to say it. Need to know you wan’ it.” Bucky kisses her below her ear, lightly gripping her lobe with his teeth. His hands slide just beneath the pyjama top, wondering if she has anything beneath.

“I’d really like to be yours, Bucky. Whattaya say we go steady?” She giggles when his serious demeanour lets up at her silliness.

He slides his palm closer, finger and thumb outlining the underside of her breast. She is moaning as quietly as she can muster, but he won’t move further without more explicit consent.

“James, please. I want you.” She feels his hand perfectly cup over the swell of her breast. He lightly kneads and she knows he is waiting for her to beg.

“How could anyone not want ya? Look how pretty you are… and these…” Bucky places her nipple between his two middle fingers, gently tugging.

“I like you,” she shyly admits as she presses herself into his hand, begging for more.

“I like you, too,” Bucky smiles and kisses her.

Their hands are all over each other in seconds. His explore the edge of her panties, and hers trace the edge of his muscle. When his finger traces her entrance through the fabric, she gasps and he mimics it.

“Condoms?” She is thinking far more straight than he is. He knows he doesn’t have any, but all of these suites should be stocked. Stark is more faithful about condoms in the drawers than bibles.

Bucky reaches and rips the entire drawer out of the nightstand, but he’s right. He grabs the largest ones, and chuckles in his throat as she melts into the pillows and mattress below. They’re really going to have sex.

“I’d wait for you to put it on, but with our luck, we’d get interrupted.” She sticks her tongue between her teeth as she takes the condom and gently opens it, knowing he would have another crisis before doing it.

What he doesn’t expect is for her to sheath him herself. Her fingers meet his tip with the condom, making his cock jump. Then they carefully unroll it, stroking his length and brushing the small globes beneath. It makes him moan and he hasn’t even started.

“‘M gonna black out just touchin’.” Bucky whispers lowly and encourages her to be on top. It lowers the risk of him taking things too far or too fast.

She blushes and laughs, letting the lubrication find her own, and slowly, blindingly, rocks her hips in a scooping motion. Bucky grits his teeth, too filled with desire.

“Yes,” she sighs in utter euphoria as he slides in. He gets halfway, before she needs to adjust. They move slowly against each other, and he thinks that’s helping. When she pulls both his hands to her hips, he can tell she needs him to take a little bit of charge because she can’t fro her angle.

He rolls her hips and thrusts from below, watching her expression twist from tentative to pleased. She feels less nervous against him, and he ruts just a little harder when he finds himself fully buried. Both of them lay together, moving their hips, and their lips move like a dance.

It’s a tragically short-lived event as she cums quickly and eagerly, tightening around Bucky. He knows after this long, he can’t hold on forever, either.

Before letting her climax fade, he rolls above her. He’s emboldened by the sounds of pleasure she muffles into his mouth and neck so she isn’t too loud. Her smaller hands exploring his lower back and his bare backside make him grumble sweet nothings at her, forgetting what it’s like for a woman to touch and explore.

His hips snap and he feels her fingers start to caress her button again between them. Fuck, if he can make her finish twice in one go when he hardly knows her, he’ll be so cocky the rest of the day.

She hisses through her teeth and he feels her clenching around him like a vice. It pulls him over, burying himself as he feels like the bliss may stop every other function in his body. It goes on for ages, encouraged by his obsessive thoughts about how much he likes her and wants her in his bed like this always.

“Holy fuck,” she pants when they’ve both caught their breath some.

“You were amazing. And you’re so gorgeous like this.” Bucky plays with her hair. He rolls his eyes at the still-decorated arm and wonders if that even occurred to her during their escapade.

“I didn’t mean to rush us. But… I do feel much better. Do you?” She squeezes in close, peeking at him from the edge of the covers.

“Mmmhmm,” Bucky nods and places her lips against his before tucking them both back under the sheets. “Merry Christmas.”

December 24

She has to meet Atticus at 10am.

Bucky stalks the halls, all morning, as she prepares with Tony’s lawyers. He doesn’t speak to anyone and skips breakfast.

“That’s a lot more like the Barnes I know,” Peter Quill states when Bucky snarls at him joking around.

“Fuck off, ‘Star Lord’.” Bucky mocks the title.

“Dude, I’ve been nice to your kid. Wouldn’t take that much effort to be nice to me.” Quill raises both hands when Bucky levels him with a glare.

“He’s not my kid. And right now, I’m afraid he never will be.” That was way more information than Bucky intended on sharing. It was possibly something he wasn’t even aware he was feeling, but lashing out tended to do that.

Quill approaches, and bear hugs Bucky. Despite the low grumble in his chest, Bucky accepts the show of affection.

After he had taken her back to his room, they’d hardly had a chance to be together again. Atticus had requested mediation to discuss custody of Logan. She knows it’s his ploy to force her to stay, because she doesn’t want Atticus to have custody and take Logan somewhere. He is too well connected.

If it’s between Atticus having partial custody or being back in their home, she had been forced to make that choice before. This time, she has a soft place to land and more to do if Atticus ever tries to keep Logan. Logan is also a little older and less dependent, so he can usually look after at least some of his routines and needs.

But he hasn’t requested shared custody. He demanded full custody and it was specifically to punish her.

Atticus has accused her of being mentally unstable, referencing visits to a mental health facility, drugs for anxiety, depression, ADHD, and many other diagnoses. She couldn’t even look at Bucky after he saw what all was written.

Bucky easily could have been dismissed under a number of labels and drugs, deemed unstable and unable to be helped. He isn’t about to judge her for her history, especially because he understands what a system of abuse can do to someone. It changes everything about you.

Steve had spent the evening with him, Sharon instead taking time with Sarah. They had discussed Bucky’s own history and reflected on what the court could bring up. Since the record is clean, most of his history with Hydra can’t be addressed.

It had been nice to have Steve there, but he had hoped to be under better circumstance. His friend never made it sound like he shouldn’t be trying to keep her or Logan, and that made him happy.

“Bucky,” she whines when she leaves the office in the city and he is waiting in the lobby.

“Hey, are you alright?” He catches her as she grabs at his arm and rushes them outside.

She hands him the keys, and looks back several times anxiously. A black SUV in the alley turns on just as he turns the key. Another on the street starts up, and he knows they’re in a little bit of trouble, he’s just not sure what happened.

“I need you to tell me everything you can.”

She launches into how they first tracked her to the Compound. Atticus had given a phone to Logan, and told him to keep it secret. It had lead him there.

Atticus planned with his lawyer friend, who knew her intimately, to smear her character and gain full custody of Logan. They intended to send him to a camp out in the desert, to toughen him up and “undo” the things she had supposedly done to ‘pretend’ we is autistic.

He had felt perfectly safe to tell her these plans because ultimately, he wants control. If it forces her to come back, that’s his first plan. If it works out that he can get full custody and ‘fix’ his son, he would likely be just as happy knowing he would live the rest of his days in control of her and Logan.

Bucky jams the car back into Parked, and steps out. The doors lock. She’s left inside, and he presses a call button for Sam, who was around just in case.

“Atticus.” Bucky sees the man absolutely strutting out of the building toward the alleyway.

“I believe I warned you, Barnes. They’re my family. And if they’re not home for Christmas, I’m pursuing this custody case. I will publicly publish every single thing that crazy woman has done, and I’ll make damn sure she doesn’t see my son. Let alone let some Russian murderer raise him and fuck her.” Atticus doesn’t flinch as he speaks.

It’s everything Bucky has not to hit him. He can’t hurt anyone, that’s a rule. And nothing illegal. But he is the first person he has truly considered killing of his own volition since healing.

“She made it clear that’s not any of your business any longer. And I’m not worried about you in the least— I know a small man when I see he brings body guards to intimidate a woman.” He never liked that behaviour, and he won’t start now.

Two men emerge from the SUV in the alley. They have guns drawn and on him, and he can guess a sniper is ready in the other vehicle.

“This way, James.” Atticus coolly gestures toward his men.

Bucky looks back at the car, seeing Redwing already on the vehicle from where he’d set the gadget.

“I’m taking back my family. And I know you’re not bullet proof. So I’ll tell you one last time, you leave her here and bring my boy home. Or I’ll kill you.” They prepare their guns and eye him.

“I’ll tell you again, intimidation will get you nowhere.” His phone pings and a loud, piercing ring fills any earpieces nearby, scrambles the tech, and gives Bucky about five seconds to get the guns under control.

He grabs the weapons, flesh hand over the top to prevent one from being able to shoot, and his metal hand destroys the other. The undamaged weapon is pulled into his grasp, and he takes it immediately.

Bucky shoots the tires of the vehicle, before aiming at Atticus smoothly.

“If you bring violence anywhere near her or Logan, if you threaten them, or if you harm them, know that you will never have enough men or firepower to save you.” Bucky feels a fire inside that has been extinguished ages ago.

Atticus seems angry, but silent. Bucky twirls the other gun in his hand, tauntingly. He breaks it easily, leaving the metal behind.

Another man rushes out from the corner of the street with a gun drawn, and Bucky points his stolen gun back. The man immediately backs down and dodges away from the sidewalk.

“What just happened?” She panics when he get in. Redwing shuts down and Bucky throws him in the back.

“Do you want to stay at the Compound? I don’t want to force you into something just because you don’t want to be with Atticus.” Bucky is sharp. She recoils at his tone.

“I… I do want to. I hate that it’s so fast, but even if we live there, we’re technically neighbours. We can still go slow.” She isn’t sure what to say.

“I want to have you there, even if we aren’t together. And… you don’t have to be with me. I never meant for that. But I won’t let him get you two if you don’t want to be with him.” He tries not to speed as he speaks, checking constantly for anyone following.

“Bucky, please! I don’t feel pressured by you and I don’t want either of us back with him. But legally, he has rights to Logan and we have to go through court. I’m scared. And he told me we have to come back on Christmas or he’s going through with all of this.” She does get upset at this. It’s all very fast and stressful.

He stretches his hand over, stopping just before her fingers on her lap. The car smells like her, and he sees shiny, lengthy strands of hair on the seat from her head. There’s a mess in the back he associates only with her trying to make Logan a temporary home. There’s a little bottle of scented hand sanitizer in the cup holder that he knows smells like sugar cookies.

Bucky doesn’t want any of that to go away. If he could preserve it, he would. He’d told Steve that he was afraid to really grasp on to her, in fear she’d simply be an illusion, and then a memory. While he’s here, it’s all tangible and he feels the future is whatever they decide.

She flips her hand to accept his, clasping it and even starting to knead his flesh. It feels comforting, and his shoulders and jaw finally loosen a little.

“If he was willing to threaten an Avenger with violence, I’m not so sure he wouldn’t hurt you two.” Bucky anxiously makes each turn on the way to the Compound. His brows never stop being pinched and his mouth never turns upward.

“I think I have to have some conversations with Logan today, so I don’t have to have them tomorrow. And I’ll speak with Tony’s legal team again.” Her words are very slow and soft. When he looks over, her eyes are watering as she looks out the window.

“I want you both to be happy and do what you deserve with your lives. And I want you to be safe. It’s not about me— but I never thought I would talk to strangers, or play with kids, or buy toy dinosaurs for Christmas, or kiss a pretty girl under mistletoe. But I have, now. And I feel good when we talk, I don’t just ruminate in my room. I can miss a therapy session and not feel like I hit a brick wall. I… if I can, I want to be that for you, too.”

She wipes furiously at her eyes. She wants the same thing so badly, but losing Logan to Atticus would destroy her. It could seriously ruin her son, too.

“Can I spend some time with Logan, tonight? I just… if this is my last Christmas with him, or our last free Christmas, I want to have some time with him.” She steels herself in a way he perfectly recognizes. Instead of pushing her, it prompts him to adopt the same mask.

The mask of being unbreakable. The mask of being the strong one because you have to be. The mask of pretending your own dreams and desires don’t exist, and doing what needs to be done.

Text

“Whoever wants to join us for the start of some holiday movies, we are showing the first two Home Alone films!” Sam excitedly cheers.

All the kids practically fly to the cinema room, except Logan. He rushes over for noise cancelling headphones, and a hug from his mother. He waves at Bucky, and does some hand shake with Sam before fleeing after his friends.

“I guess that sorts that,” she laughs.

“You two comin’?” Sarah calls when they stay put.

“Uh, we wanted to discuss some things about the job and Atticus,” he lies. Sarah knows damn well, and shakes her head much the way Sam does.

Bucky isn’t sure what to do next. She takes his highly-decorated hand, and pulls him to follow behind her.

He feels like a teenager, hiding out to kiss a girl. She stops walking briskly as they get to his door. It is absolutely covered in mistletoe.

“Wanna bet mine looks just like this? Does your friend always meddle?” She teases as he opens the door. She stays standing outside.

“Hasn’t really had opportunity until now. I’m sure he’s taking everything he can.” Bucky grumbles and feels a bit of embarrassment. He can’t really expect her to be his girl, can he? She’s sort of preoccupied.

“And you? Do you take every opportunity sent your way?” She blinks up at him from the door, knowing she’s standing right in the frame. He feels his chest rise faster, and his mind race.

“Just the best ones.” Bucky playfully stays just a centimetre from her, eager to taste her again. That beautiful aroma of pine and cinnamon fills the space and makes his head fill with nonsense. But she kissed him earlier… so is it really nonsense?

When she kisses him again, he drags her inside. They don’t need mistletoe for this. She seems a bit surprised when he presses her against the door frame and kisses her a little harder than anything earlier that day. The weight of his body against hers elicits something ancient in her blood.

Normally, when she falls in love, it’s fast and crazy. It consumes her and it’s full of rapid and rushing ups and downs. But this doesn’t feel fast, it doesn’t make her stomach twist or her brain wrestle with the rest of her. She welcomes his gentle touches and the feel of the leather coat, and the smell of his cologne.

“Bucky?” She catches her breath. The heat of her core is taking over and she’s feeling worried. Just because he’s attractive doesn’t mean she should rush into something. It’s not what’s best for Logan.

“Sorry, I just really wanted to do that.” He blushes- wow, a superhero, blushing- and she stands back on her toes to kiss him again. Bucky doesn’t talk about his work like he’s a hero, he doesn’t flex his status or name drop. When it’s the two of them, it’s not like he’s ranked above her.

“I wanted to, too. You know, uh… you know that’s not why I came here, right?” She watches as he licks his lips and eyes her.

“Of course, not. And this isn’t why I invited you. I felt guilty I started to feel this way, I was worried you felt like I was pressuring you.” Bucky knows he could be seen as taking advantage of her. He doesn’t want to, and he’d be alright postponing anything more, if it makes her more comfortable.

“I feel safe, with you. Not nervous or self conscious. And I really love how you’ve been with Logan. If… if you wanted to see where we go, he would be part of that. I would need you to know that.” She glances at his apartment.

The entire space is barren. There is a neatly made bed in the corner, a small kitchenette, and a love seat across from a television. No photos, no decor or anything personal. That didn’t scream that he was a man ready to take on her and her son.

“I hadn’t asked you here because it’s bare. I honestly hadn’t planned on staying here much longer. Everyone’s doing so much, and moving on. It felt like I was standing still, and I wondered when I would have what they do.” Bucky gestures to the small, hardly used area around them.

She feels somewhat encouraged by his explanation as he continues.

“When I met you, I felt like I could help you. And I really wanted to, especially because I could see so much good in your son. But now I know him, and I don’t want you both to disappear from my life. I enjoy our conversations, and your perspective on things. And I like Logan, a lot. Having him be a part of my life would be an adjustment, but not an unwelcome one.”

They both watch each other in silence. It’s a lot to think about, and neither expected to be here. She’d been sleeping in her car, monitoring exact miles to empty, trying desperately to make sure Logan was alright. It was the last thing she thought would happen. If anything, she assumed she could end up back, stuck, with Atticus by Christmas.

“What about my divorce? This comes with a lot of drama. Atticus is powerful, and he won’t hesitate to put you through a lot.” She saw him do it to her friends who tried to protect her, and whatever family refused to lose touch. And of course, he’s done it to her.

“Atticus has no idea what power is. He’s never getting his hands on either of you, and I’ll never let anyone make Logan feel less than.” He feels a surge of pride and aggression as he speaks. Bucky knows Tony’s lawyers wouldn’t let Atticus have an inch, and he pictures young Steve every time he thinks of Logan’s future.

She reaches up and kisses him again, taking comfort in everything. The zipper of his leather jacket seems to undo on its own. The jingle of whatever decorations Tony fused on make her smile as her hands map the planes of his chest. It feels a bit superficial, but she’s hardly about to turn down the opportunity.

Everything is in slow motion as their lips touch, press, and part, over and over. His cologne is making her breathe him in. Her scarf from the rink comes undone and his lips fill a trail behind it. The touch of his mouth to her sensitive skin makes her gasp.

Bucky tries to remember what he liked and what people liked, before. But some seem like he would be moving too fast. He does feel like a teenager, kissing in secret and not certain how far things will go. It actually feels nice to be juvenile again.

Things feel light, playful, and free. Until she sucks on his bottom lip, and he nips it back. Every part of him stiffens, and he breaks away, suddenly aware he has never had sex with the serum. This all feels overwhelming, and he realizes he could get carried away.

Bucky huffs and thinks maybe he should just take her top off. Maybe he should kneel between her thighs on his bed. Or he could suck her neck, bite her hip, and end up hurting her when he gets passionate.

Pulling away, he sees the shocked look of questioning rejection.

“Did I do something wrong?” She worries.

“No, no. I just think I haven’t done this in… a very, very long time. And not since I got this serum. So… maybe we take it easy.” He has gone from thinking he wouldn’t find this, to now worrying he could destroy it.

“I’m not asking you to marry me, or to have sex. I do like kissing you, though.” Her fingers stroke the muscle of his neck down along his collar. It soothes him just enough to chance another peck.

The comfort of being alone together for the first time makes his veins bubble immediately. Her soft skin ripples as he moves the tips of his fingers underneath her sweater, up her sides. The little mewl from her lips sends him over again, losing a little control and kissing harder, just about to pull her sweater North.

He grumbles encouragement to her when he notices she is canting her hips up to meet his, and places her on the bed instead of against his wall. She has both hands on his neck, helping him be aware of how hard to kiss and when she needs to breathe, since it’s long before him. She really hadn’t planned for more than making out, but here they are about to strip down.

“You’re so perfect.” Bucky tries to find any words to tell her what he sees when he looks at her.

“You, too.” She tries to respond as he sucks below her jaw.

A loud knock stops them, and Bucky starts to wonder if he should electrify the doors when they’re together. It seems to send a beacon to every Wilson in the building to come interrupt.

“Bucky? Hate to get between ya, but we’ve got company incoming. I think we should make a plan.” Sam sounds serious and not like he’s just being an ass. Bucky practically growls at the situation.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m not mad at you. And I don’t blame you for Atticus being the reason we have to go. I’m just disappointed I don’t have you to myself.” Bucky reassures her as he stands and takes her hand to follow.

There is a rather… growing problem he has to handle before they can exit. He tries awkwardly to shift around, trying not to draw attention. Her eyes do catch the bulge in his jeans. Sam always said he shouldn’t wear ones that are so tight, but he doesn’t listen.

“Hmmm,” she hums as she feels her cheeks warm. They should wait, they should build more foundation. And they should deal with the current issues. But first, she stretches up and opens her mouth to his, letting her tongue explore his mouth as his does the same.

It lasts long enough that Sam lets out a dramatic sigh. And when she feels her feet flat on the ground, she thinks maybe she was previously floating.

Bucky wakes to the sun shining, and light din through the soundproofing of the apartments.

It must be late. He missed going to her room!

He gets up, but jolts when he notices his arm is missing. The metal one.

Where the hell could it be? He had started putting it aside at night, when he was comfortable to do so. It meant he could go longer between all the cleaning and treatments Shuri recommended.

Just when he is about to tear his place apart, he sees something on his nightstand.

A fucking Christmas elf.

Sam had told him about the tradition but it never really made sense. It’s sitting next to a socket wrench.

“How did they even get in here?” He grumbles and throws a plain t-shirt on. It’s been a while since he’s done much with one hand, and he groans when it’s a bit awkward.

Picking up the toy, he ambles down the hall, a little disappointed that he has missed so much time with her and Logan. It feels like he’s counting the hours, already.

“Hey!” She calls quietly from the couch. Logan is asleep and leaning on her, covered by a blanket. “Did the elf find you, too?”

He pinches his brow.

“AJ and Cass and your friend Sam all terrorized everyone last night. They stuck all of Logan’s dinosaurs to a globe, with an incoming asteroid. But I guess he got up and helped with all of their other quests.” She chuckles as she gestures at Logan, who remains passed out.

“Well, they took something of mine I’d kinda like back,” Bucky cringes.

“Your arm?” Her eyes go wide.

“Mister Stark told us to!” AJ defends immediately from across the room.

“What?” Bucky frowns. That’s probably how they could get it without alerting him.

“He said he would give it back. He was decorating.” Cass nods as AJ speaks.

What on earth?

Bucky asks for a minute, a bit embarrassed of the state he is in. That arm makes him feel a lot more normal, and a lot less like a spectacle. He also knows it won’t be good if Atticus arrives and he isn’t prepared.

“Hey, Buck! Can I give you a hand?” Sam smirks when Bucky eyes the many silly setups from the ‘elves’ overnight.

“Very funny. Where is my arm?”

“Right here. Stark polished it up, cleaned it, and got it all ready for Christmas for you.” He laughs again.

Bucky opens the case, only to find an entirely decorated vibranium arm. It has bright, loud colours and patterns, tinsel and garland wrapped around it. There’s a chime stuck to his bicep area, with little jingle bells for whenever it would move.

“Great,” he grunts.

It’s a little embarrassing to put the arm on, but it appears Tony made damn sure none of this would be removable at least for today.

Shrugging, to adjust, he sighs at the highly decorated metal.

“I think it’s festive,” her voices greets him.

“I’m glad you like it,” he smiles.

Maybe it’s not so bad.

They have a late breakfast, and Bucky knows there’s a lot to do, today. Skating, a gingerbread house competition, and a Christmas movie marathon.

Logan is up as soon as his friends mention skating. They get their skates on, but Logan insists only Bucky can tie his laces correctly. It brings a happiness to his heart.

“Remember how to stop?” Bucky asks as the boys take off toward the ice.

“Yeah!” All three shout back without looking.

Bucky tries to help her up in her skates, only to see her looking confusedly at Sam. He looks mischievous. Then he points upward.

Mistletoe.

It’s absolutely everywhere. Which is making all of the lovey-dovey couples super sickly sweet.

“I’m sorry about him,” Bucky apologizes. He scratches the back of his neck.

“It’s alright.” She blushes and looks at him curiously, before tripping on her skates.

Bucky catches her, concerned as he restores her balance. She grows more red as he watches. They’re out from under the mistletoe at least. But maybe later, he will find some, again.

She skates, and he isn’t sure why she is so quiet and pensive. Her hair is flowing out behind her and he wishes he could touch it, or see it across his pillows in the morning. Not even sexually, just as a comfort and a reminder that she’s there.

Logan races up to Bucky and slams into him, not quite as adept at stopping as he had planned. The boy looks up at him with tears in his eyes, which he assumes mean he is hurt. But the instant Bucky crouches safely at the side of the rink with Logan, he spills into larger sobs.

“What’s wrong? Logan, hey, it’s alright. Did you hurt yourself? Did you hit my metal arm?” Bucky tries to find out what happened before they draw too much attention. Maybe he was already upset when he ran over.

“Please don’t yell at me. And don’t hate me. Don’t kick my mom out!” Logan pulls off his glasses to wipe at his eyes. He doesn’t calm down at all, and Bucky grows concerned. What would he yell for?

“I accidentally tripped Mister Rogers, and he fell.” Logan squeezes his eyes shut in an impact for whatever Bucky’s response will be.

“Well, I’m sure we can apologize to Steve. And if he says anything wrong, you get to watch us spar, alright?” Bucky offers a smile. “I kick his ass every time. And don’t tell your mother I said ‘ass’.”

Logan sniffs, looking up like Bucky could be tricking him.

“Steve used to be a lot like you. And he is a super hero, I think he can handle a little fall on the ice. Do you want to come with me?” Bucky holds Logan’s hand to guide him in case he is nervous. When it feels cool, he warms them again. It earns a little secret grin from the kid, which makes Bucky feel proud all over again.

Steve is sitting with Sharon cleaning up whatever is left of a cut on his chin. He catches sight of Logan and immediately tries to hide the healing wound.

“Hey, Steve. Looks like a young boy can do more damage to you than aliens.” Bucky tries to get them talking.

“Logan, you’re a tough kid. I hope I didn’t land on you. I tried to check if you were okay but you took off.” Steve tries to be gentle and friendly, seeing Logan’s chin wobble as he worries he’s in trouble.

Logan tries a few times to speak, but falls mute. Bucky knows that when he gets overwhelmed he has trouble verbalizing, and places his hand on the boys shoulder. Maybe he should step in and help.

“He feels very bad about it. And he knows to watch out for others, and that he’s lucky it was you and not someone else. But he came straight to me for help apologizing.” Bucky would have had a harder time helping out if it had been someone else he knocked over, however.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh, Logan felt bad about tripping Steve on the ice. He wanted to say sorry.” Bucky tries to explain. She looks pale, seeing them standing with him this way.

“Logan, is that true?” She tries to look over the child and his expression. Whenever this used to happen, he would be crying. Then, he wouldn’t speak for hours. He’d even avoid Atticus for days if he was able to.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Why are you over here?” She asks Bucky quite defensively. She thinks maybe he is scolding Logan, or forcing a public apology. It doesn’t seem his style, but she would be livid if it happened from someone who is not his parent. She’s very protective of her son, now.

“Logan came to me. He was upset and didn’t know what to do.” Bucky feels flustered, now. But he sees that wipe all the anger from her features.

Logan trusts Bucky. She melts into the safety of that realization. He’s not being dragged for some public shame, he sought out Bucky and asked for help. That’s never what he would have done with Atticus.

“You can go back, now. Just make sure you watch out, alright?” Steve mock salutes Logan who returns the gesture. He immediately searches for AJ and Cass and Peter.

Steve removes his skates to spend more time with Sharon, and Bucky tries not to feel rejected. He knows he can’t be Steve’s priority, but he had hoped to be around more. That sense of loneliness hits him again, and he tries to swallow it.

A hand slips into his, and the sting of abandonment ebbs. He looks over at who is connecting with him, and sees her staring up at him with something in her eyes. She toys with his metal fingers, appreciating their warmth since he had turned them to heaters.

“What if I take that job?” She asks quietly.

“I’d like that. I… I want you both to be happy and safe.”

“What if Atticus shows up and tries to force us to go back?” She steps closer, her sweater flat along his.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you from him.” Bucky tries not to sound possessive, but he knows the edge to his voice. She’s a bit breathless when he slides a hand from her shoulder to her back.

“And you… would be around? In case I need… Uhm, protection? Or a friend?” Her voice becomes quieter as she moves to play with the edge of his leather jacket, by his collar. She licks her lips, nervous as they grow so close.

Bucky nods, before moving slowly to close the gap between them. He feels her chin tilt up as his lips land on hers, gently kissing as she cups his face. Before he can get carried away, he straightens and checks on her. Both feel a swell of connection.

“Mistletoe,” she whispers as she looks up. His eyes drag away from her to find more of the damned thing.

“Right,” he replies. Did she only do that because of the mistletoe?

“Can I… can we talk, after Logan goes to their movie centre?”

Bucky gently moves to brush her hair back from her shoulder and neck. He isn’t ready to peek up at her yet.

“Of course. Do you think he would be okay if you came to my place?” He asks.

The motive comes on a little strong. Maybe he would correct it, but his heart is in his throat and leaves no room for words.

“I think that would be just fine,” she nods. Her eyes twinkle with a little bit of relief and excitement.

The rest of the event, his hands practically vibrate in hers as he waits for the children to part. Of course, he enjoys Logan and the boys, but he won’t exactly be kicking them out.

Your mother fawns over Bucky for helping set the table, serve the food, and clean up. He’s not much of a baker, but he is helpful at every turn.

“What about the turkey dinner? Would you like to help with that?” Your mom has everything ready but is enjoying the bonding time.

“I would love to,” he grins. It’s giving him a sense of belonging, too.

It doesn’t take them long to get everything done, but you watch enthusiastically as he works with your mom. Even when she snips at him, bringing up childhood memories, he gently redirects her and gets her to apologize and laugh with him.

“Okay, now, the rest is up to you. I don’t want to give anyone food poisoning,” Bucky says as he puts it in the oven.

You wrap your arms around his waist and absorb his warmth. His lips press to your hair and you sigh at how peaceful you feel.

“Alright everyone. Pyjamas and pictures. Go!” Your mother ushers you out.

Bucky looks puzzled, following you up the stairs. You immediately grin.

“She will have left us brand new Christmas pyjamas. Happens every year, but her favourite is to let everyone be up before her and she will sneak them into bedrooms. I wouldn’t have put it past her this morning to peek in, anyway, if we hadn’t left the room.” You know she’s been prodding you to find someone for years.

“Hmmm, caught in the act. If that happens, I vote it’s Sam who catches us. I wanna tell ‘im you’re mine.” Bucky nips at the shell of your ear.

“Whoa, now. I’m not having Sam catch us doing anything. I want you all to myself, even his prying eyes get nothing!” You know Sam would laugh if it happened. Perhaps a little too hard. He is Bucky’s number one cheerleader.

“I dunno, I may not be able to keep my hands off you,” he crows and helps you slip out of your top only to help you into the new pyjamas.

“You may have to. I still work in that building, and I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Really? You don’t think with all the adrenaline…” he traces your sides, “a smooth heist…” he ghosts his lips over your neck, “a victory…” his thumbs tuck under your bottoms to pull them down, “that you wouldn’t want to run straight to me?”

“You have a bedroom, it’s not like we have to do it on a board room table.” Your voice is more airy than intended.

“Oh? Did that thought do something?”

“No,” you squeak.

“Maybe I just wanna keep calling you nicknames. Tell you you’re pretty when I think it. Play some of my new records.” He shifts to a less sultry tone, and his touch feels like confidence and happiness. He helps you dress in the new pants and ignores all the things his words did to you.

“You’re too good to be true,” you say as a compliment. It’s amazing to be like this with him.

Bucky seems burned by the words.

“Am I coming on too strong?”

“No,” you wrinkle your nose at him happily. “I think if you hadn’t come on so strong I would have perpetually told myself you weren’t interested. But I’m afraid to get my hopes up.”

Bucky lets you pull his sleep shirt off, careful of the seam of his arm. His eyes bore into your forehead as you focus on the buttons of the matching PJs your mother made him.

“We can slow down. I got overexcited, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way. They’ve been bugging me to tell you for so long, and I just never thought you felt the same. So now, I am enjoying saying it.” Bucky catches your hands as they do the top button. He loves the way your eyes snap up to his.

“You’re amazing, Bucky. I just have a habit of falling headlong and having no one catch me. It sounds stupid, but it gets me into trouble.” You pull his collar by the edges gently and kiss him.

“Let me spoil you all weekend, and then I’ll ease up when we get home. But I’ll always be here. And when you’re ready for more affection you know where I’ll be.”

“In my bed?” You tease.

“Any time you’d like,” he laughs.

Bucky asks to listen to one of your fathers records, as he has a vinyl collection. He takes interest in which ones your dad picks out, and which you hand over or put to the side from there.

“I sent a copy of this,” your dad shows him a copy of his Beatles vinyl. He would love to show Bucky the classics.

Bucky sponges every moment with your family. They treat him like he’s just someone they can introduce to all their favourite things. Not a celebrity or murderer.

Your parents go for a walk, something you’re not keen to do in all the frigid wind. So you curl up and show Bucky more Christmas classics, wound into the front of him.

You’re barely started Home Alone 2 when Bucky seems taken with the New York scenes. He never saw it in the 90s. He notices the changes in the skyline since then, and you haven’t the heart to explain.

“I like the way you watch things,” he whispers from over your shoulder. You’re pulled tight to his chest, facing away.

“I like watching them snuggled up to you. It feels cozy.” You relax even further into the hold.

“Have you thought about things?” He adjusts, trying to remain calm.

“James Barnes, are you trying to get me to promise you can come back next year?” You realize why he has been asking.

“I mean, I didn’t realize that was why. I just like hearing you talk about us being together. But yeah, I’d like to be invited back.” Bucky holds you straight, denying the squirm in attempt to turn around.

“My parents would kill to have you back. They have never smiled more than when you joined us this morning and got gifts. They know it was a special Christmas for you.” They’d even secretly texted you between events to check on how Bucky liked everything, how he was doing, and if anything they said or did brought up old memories. They’d been petrified over their gift.

“What about you,” he murmurs in your ear. “Do you think I’ve done alright? Earned a real Christmas?”

“Of course,” you know you made that breathless sound when his warm breath skated over you. “And this is a real Christmas. Everything about this is real. No pretend, remember?”

Bucky presses lips below your ear, planting seeds of happiness with each. He watches the movie with interest, but his mind is definitely racing. You can tell every time he suddenly renews his little kiss shower.

“I never thought I would kiss you one time in my life. And now your mouth is obsessed,” you giggle when he lightly tickles you and captures your laughter in his mouth.

“Thought about it so long. Even brought you up in therapy. She said not to pursue anything until I felt ready, so I kept ignoring Natasha’s prompt to ask you out. Went on other dates to see if I still had it in me, or if I would ever work up the nerve.” Bucky licks your neck and you moan too innately to catch yourself.

“I don’t believe all those dates were strictly for science. But I appreciate the fib,” you brush it off. As long as he is here now.

“You missed every single hint. So I sort of thought you weren’t interested. Only realized you were when you blushed like crazy every time I flirted.” Bucky buries his face in your neck before peeking back at the screen.

He grazes his teeth and sucks ever so lightly on your neck. It’s not explicit, it just feels like he can’t get enough of being next to you. Everything feels soft and safe. The contact makes you sigh and melt.

“My mom said the key to a happy relationship is when the man is way more madly in love than the woman,” you mumble quietly. It’s something she told every single person who asked about the success of their relationship.

It wasn’t that they weren’t mutually in love, so much as expressed it differently. Your moms love was shown through acts of service and gifts. Your dad was similar. But he loved to show off their love, host events, make proclamations. Your mom just wanted to be with him.

It was never ever a guess to her or anyone else whether he was solely in love with her. He really thought every moment with your mom was a blessing, and it showed. It made your mom feel comfortable giving herself and being vulnerable or strong when needed. It leant to their communication and how genuine they were.

“I think,” your heart leaps and his arms tighten around you, “we will be the happiest couple.”

“Yeah? Prepared for a lifetime of chasing me with compliments and smothering me with love.” That word. It’s far too early, but intriguing it is on your tongue and his. It sparks hope to have success into the future. And maybe hear it properly one day.

“Always,” he breathes and hugs you tighter, heart pounding at your back.

There’s something to being swaddled up against him, void of sexual advances. It makes you feel magical. Maybe it scares you to like someone like him. But you feel it’s alright to trust.

“What kind of house do you want some day?” Bucky prompts you as you look at Gingerbread houses on display. It’s not far from your parents’ and he insisted on seeing the grandiose competition where people create entire mansions and landscaping for their perfectly iced houses.

“Dunno. I’m too broke to buy anything in the city so I sort of coast.”

“Would you want to come back here? Be close to your parents?” Bucky reads a description for one of the houses, looking straight from a catalogue. Avoiding your eye makes you realize he’s trying to get to know you deeper but doesn’t want to scare you off.

“I think a penthouse. Stark-style. Maybe a few. Came to New York City for a reason- marry rich and live big.” Your joke makes him scoff.

“I think you’ll be disappointed. How does 300 square feet in the Tower sound?” He realizes what he is saying half way through, but can’t stop.

You both stare at each other for a moment.

“I’m not asking- I wasn’t trying to say anything.” Bucky rakes his hand through his hair.

“Wait, are you flustered for once? Oh, my, James Barnes. You’re blushing!” You laugh and pull him down for a peck on the lips. “No wonder you think this is so great. Look at you.”

Bucky looks away completely, a disheveled grin on him. It must be a long time since he was on the spot like this, he looks decades younger. The boyish way he can’t gather himself is adorable.

“I just don’t want to get ahead of ourselves. But I want to know if we want the same things. In my day, it was pretty easy to tell if someone wanted what you did. And you talked about it rather quickly. Didn’t wanna scare my pretty girl away,” he kisses you quickly but hotly, trying to comfort himself.

“Alright. Some day, I guess I would move upstate if I wanted to stop working for Stark Industries. I can do admin work anywhere. But I would like to visit the city.”

“Big house? Apartment? Farm? Lots of gardens? C’mon. Something like this,” he points to a massive gingerbread house with piped windows everywhere, “or this,” he indicates the traditional cottage home with frosted trees.

“In my fantasies? Farms are work, cottages have bugs and make for great horror movies. I think a nice house with a garden, a yard for pets, and neighbours close enough to help if something happens.” You shrug. Apparently you have more opinions than you thought. “You?”

“I just want a pretty girl waitin’ there. Could be anywhere.” Bucky rests his forehead on yours, fingers closing on the lower part of your coat.

“If I had to tell you like some personality test, so do you.” You tilt your lips just a hair out of reach from his.

“Alright. I never had much space, growing up. I’d love a big house. And I want it to feel like a home, somewhere guests love to be. I never want to feel cold again.” It breaks your heart when he says the last part. You could only imagine him ever having the same feeling entering his home as he did returning to Hydra.

Bucky traps you between his body and the wall. The fog of his breath is the only thing between your lips.

“Some couples don’t even share rooms. I’d like to,” Bucky slowly presses his lips to yours. “Do you think you’ll share your bed for life?”

“I mean, if the guy asked me nicely. He may have to deal with stealing the covers…” you try to laugh but get interrupted by another kiss. He’s ramping up to something.

“How many bedrooms?” Bucky says it but then skates his mouth along your jaw line.

“What?” Your mind is hazy with all the affection and Christmas.

“The house,” kiss, “how many,” kisses, “bedrooms?”

Why would that matter? Oh.

“Uh, a guest room? A craft room?” You try not to assume. Man, his era was in a hurry.

“C’mon,” Bucky chuckles and you realize how deeply you’re blushing and how many times you’ve made his favourite sound. “Never has to happen. Hypotheticals. Fantasies. I just wanna know we are on the same page.”

“I have no idea.” That’s your honest answer. “Ask again in a year.”

“Oh,” he smiles and cups your face. “I like the sound of planning to be here in a year.”

You’re about to say something sarcastic when an older couple start approaching the Gingerbread House Competition display. They seem upset you’ve chosen it as a place to giggle at and kiss your extremely attractive new… boyfriend?

“Maybe this devilishly handsome old man needs just a few pointers on not how to come on so strong,” you smile as he pulls you back to the path toward home.

“I said I was going to go all out for the trip. I’ll ease up when we’re home. But I don’t want either of us second guessing things,” he holds your hand up an icy portion of path. “And I am a little old-fashioned.”

She is in absolute awe as she watches three Avengers return from scaring off her ex. Thankfully, Quill has done a great job keeping the kids busy. Everyone tries to distract her, but she races down.

“Hey—” Bucky starts to try explaining, interrupted by a great big hug at top speed.

Her scarf tangles into his leather jacket zip. She smells of all the pine and cinnamon scents that are throughout her suite. Her breath is warm on his collar, and his heart flutters. In a moment of weakness, he dips his nose to the parting of her hair and feels the strands touch his lips.

Bucky releases the quietest hum, renewing their embrace. His chest vibrates, and his breath melts in her hair. She is suddenly very aware of her closeness and who is around.

“Don’t make me go back.” She asks Steve and Sam, more than Bucky. They nod, watching her hold on to Bucky like her personal hero. He sort of is, really.

“You and Logan are welcome, here. We won’t let you get in any danger. And… I may have an answer to your job problem. And where to live.” Steve knows Bucky won’t offer, so he does it himself.

Bucky doesn’t want to box her in. She should feel just as safe leaving, but maybe she will only stay temporarily. He doesn’t want to make it sound like he will be controlling of her or her work or living situations.

“Is he coming back?”

“I don’t know. But he’s headed back to the city, and we will be able to track his car until he gets the remote control removed.”

Bucky tries to comfort her. She awkwardly withdraws to keep them moving, so Logan won’t realize she’s gone. Her hand still rests affectionately in his, even if she’s no longer in his arms. And even as she separates at the compound, he feels her fingers glide down his, making him feel like she will be back.

“Can we talk more about all this after Logan is in bed? I can’t— I can’t ruin his day.” She pleads.

Bucky is distracted by her eyes searching his. They’re so bright and trusting. She is pretty. He wants her hands on his chest, again. And he wants her to hug him, once more. The feeling of her fingers dragging through his makes him wonder how they’d feel elsewhere. But he hates that when they have alone time, he should spend it making a plan on how to handle Atticus.

They all try to be casual as they collect the kids and start to prepare for dinner. None of them are overly aware, but Sam discusses with Tony. The legal team needs a heads up, because Atticus is surely going to do whatever he can.

Bucky’s not technically allowed to fight. His pardon depends on not harming civilians, and he’s certain that extends to combat with the NYPD. But he will never let this woman or her son get hurt.

Logan gets overstimulated by Christmas carols just before dinner. He starts panicking out of nowhere, then tries to burrow into his mother. She stresses, wrapping him up in her scarf before bringing him to their suite and playing some sort of white noise.

“Sorry,” she mouths to Bucky when he follows

.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s been a lot of constant stimulus. I actually understand that… at least to some degree. Took years to have fewer PTSD episodes.” He remembers having similar responses whenever he left the Compound. Loud noises, parades, even seeing too many security officers in certain circumstances.

“He just needs to recharge. We should be alright for dinner.” She tries to placate him.

“No, maybe this was a big enough day. As long as he doesn’t feel like he’s missing out, maybe I can bring you both some food? It’s alright if he needs a break.” Bucky knows how hard it is to force himself out into rooms packed with people once his battery runs out.

She probably also needs a break. It was a crazy afternoon. So when he brings her a glass of champagne, and a fancy seafood meal, she’s in awe of him.

“I brought Logan some macaroni and some chicken fingers. He seemed to like those, and they’ll be easy to warm up when he is ready.” Bucky shows that the chicken fingers are even dinosaur shaped.

“So… why are you doing all this for us? For strangers?” She finds her courage to ask. “There are a million other women in my position.”

She used to accept favours from Atticus, like help with repairs at her house. They always came with a price tag. She chews her lip, picking at her fingernails.

“And I would help them, too. Maybe I’ll help run an event at a safe housing centre. But you were here, and I felt like I could help you both. I see myself, and Steve, in your son. And I… I see a lot of heart in you.” Bucky fumbles through saying what he thinks without confessing he has developed feelings. It would be inappropriate, right?

“I feel safe, here. Not… not just because I’m in an impenetrable Compound full of Avengers. But, because you have been so good to us. And I was shocked when all three of you approached Atticus, just for me.” She watches him intently for his response.

Instead of speaking, he stares fondly at her. Those focused eyes make her flush, a bit overwhelmed. Is he a man who is ever less intense?

His eyes are like a magnet. His touch has offered a sense of comfort she doesn’t know how to turn down. When his chest rumbled with affection, she’d felt her whole body warm. Her mind rushes away with her, allowing her fingers to reach toward him and her body to lean close.

She blinks up at him as her pulse increases and her face heats up.

“What did you mean you might have an answer to my job problem?” She suddenly recalls.

“Well,” he cringes, awkwardly. “I really didn’t want to talk about this until we were sure you couldn’t go home. But we could offer you a position— entry level admin. Your quarters would be in the staff wing, not mine. And your job would have nothing to do with me, so if this doesn’t work out, you don’t have to find a new job, or see me.”

“If what doesn’t work out?” She tries not to sound too eager.

“Oh— uh, you know, us… being friends.” He shrugs, trying to maintain the facade of being relaxed. His chest is tight, like until she addresses it, he can’t breathe.

“Right.” She sobers from her wishful thinking, setting her wine glass down, and feeling a new heat rise in her cheeks. Embarrassment. Of course, she has no business dating.

She has a son, to think of, and her life to get in order.

Even if she could date, Bucky is handsome and very publicly desired. He may be patient with her and her son for the holidays, but he likely has no place in his heart for a sudden family. Especially with her history.

“Unless—”

A knock stops him from speaking more, but she hears him scoff at the break. When she delicately removes her hands, he curses under his breath.

She stands and goes to the door, afraid to hear any further rejection. He snaps his mouth closed and glowers at whoever has interrupted their time.

“Hey, we just wanted to check on you. Would you like some dessert, and maybe the boys can visit after dinner to play video games with Logan to keep him occupied?” Sarah smirks when she sees them sharing dinner by themselves.

“I’m sure he would love something lower-key, once he has had a break. I’m sorry we left.”

“No, I think this is just what you need. Have a great night,” she waves.

Flustered, they both look back at each other as she walks toward her spot on the couch. She hadn’t realized how close she had moved toward Bucky, and wonders if she should just sit again, or give him space.

Bucky pats the spot from which she left, and she decides she won’t stray far. It’s close enough she can feel him brush her arm when he reaches out. He opens the dessert box, finding one large slice of cheesecake.

“For you?” He offers the slice her way, but her eyes widen at the size.

“Will you share? I’m a bit of a germphobe, but I’m sure we will be okay.” She offers him the second dessert fork from inside.

“Thank you. I could cut it?” He looks to the door of the suite, where the kitchen knives would be in the communal area.

“This is alright.” She tries to be calm.

She’s definitely not watching how his lips move around the spoon. She’s not observing the way his neck moves as he swallows, or tongue darts out to catch crumbs on his lips. And he’s not doing the same, hearing every hum of enjoyment as the delicious dessert hits her tongue.

They both think they’re being sneaky, but they catch each other numerous times. She notices him shifting, relaxing, but also hesitating before he says anything or moves.

They’re both overthinking, and a little afraid to be too bold.

Their forks touch as they reach for the final pieces, and he puts his aside. He passes her the small plate, with the last bits of the tasty dessert. She isn’t sure what he’s doing, or why.

“When was the last time someone took you to dinner? Bought you a nice dessert, and told you that you’re a good mother?

”

Never. Even when things were good with Atticus, he never really took her out or complimented her. He would take her to work events, or stay in because he was tired. He was usually late or distracted.

Atticus, at times, would say she was a good mother. But usually only to get her to stop crying when raising her baby was hard. She practically did it alone. He never said it again, after Logan was diagnosed as autistic. And he declined her every time she did think she’d like a second child.

“Well you are. You know him, and you are looking out for him. And you deserve someone who will tell you that, and who will make you feel like you can keep doing it.” He turns on the couch to face her as she sets the plate down.

Bucky thinks she is unfairly self conscious. He is, too, and has frequently wondered whether he is worth the work of breaking down his walls and befriending. Seeing it in someone else who is trying so hard makes him frustrated.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

“Logan is lucky to have you. And I’m grateful you two found me. If you want that job, and accommodation, I’ll help. They provide a bunch of things for education, and there are people who can help Logan with school or socializing.” He realizes he’s really trying to support his own agenda. Christmas is fast approaching, and then they’ll be headlong for new years. And then they’ll be gone.

“I think I would like that. But I need some time to think, is that okay? Atticus was trying to get in, today. And I’m afraid he will come back and cause trouble.” She frets, and he realizes he’s being selfish to ignore her situation in hopes to build a relationship of sorts.

“He said you kidnapped Logan. But we told him to contact our legal team, and I promise, they will get that looked after. There’s no way they will send you two back.” Except he knows the courts can be iffy, and that the man has incredible influence. There’s also no evidence of his abuse because it’s not physical.

“I guess that’s all I’ve got, for now. I just can’t let them take Logan back. I want him to know a life full of acceptance and love and support. Mine wasn’t like that, and I made a promise that his would. If he wants to become a doctor, I’ll work two jobs to put him through school. If he wants to go into fashion, or video games, or palaeontology, or whatever, I want to make sure those doors are open.”

Bucky just watches her, as if she were a goddess risen from the sea. She is a good mom. No matter what she has been told.

When she returns to pulling at her fingers, he sits down and reaches for them. He wishes he could sweep her fallen hair back, or rub her shoulders. Maybe she’d feel comforted in his arms, on the couch. Perhaps he could wind around her, shielding her from the world, as his lungs fill with sweet cinnamon.

Bucky takes her hand, about to test the waters.

AJ and Cass burst through the door, and Bucky rolls his eyes. He loves those kids, but their family has a knack for timing. Bucky ushers them to Logan’s room, ensuring Logan is ready for some light stimulus and interaction again.

They spend the next two hours talking about what working here would look like, and if she will be alright. And when it’s time for everyone to go to bed, he cleans up with her.

He’d love to kiss her goodnight. People who go on first dates are leagues behind them, after a few straight days together. So he gives himself grace in how he feels. Maybe he shouldn’t follow through, but he won’t punish himself for it.

“Thank you for everything.” She stands in the doorway, blinking up at him.

“I couldn’t be happier to help.” Bucky feels that tug, again. The one where he used to kiss a girl, back when he could.

Shying away from that pull, he embraces her and moves his hands, soothingly. His lips ghost her crown, and she seems just as breathless as if he had gone through with his original urge.

You wake far before daylight. It’s the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in a long time. Possibly because of the man who has you in his arms, perfectly warming you in the Winthrop chill.

Bucky is fast asleep. You’ve never seen him look so peaceful. He didn’t toss and turn, and didn’t have a nightmare. There’s only a blue glow from the snow and the moon to outline his face, but he looks incredible.

When you run your fingers along his brow, he wakes calmly. The adoring gaze makes you feel like the last twelve hours have been a dream.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper with a shy smile.

“Merry Christmas.” His lips meet yours tenderly.

“Wanna sit by the fire?” You know it’ll be ok, your parents won’t be up for a while after drinks and cigars at their friend’s.

“Later,” he whispers.

When his hips move into yours, you can feel the hard length begging for entrance. The silky fabric of his boxers don’t hide a thing, and he is smirking again so you know you didn’t quite stifle the lust from becoming audible.

Bucky keeps you comfortable and sleepy in your position on your side. He hooks your leg around him, fingers lowering to your heat.

“So wet,” he chokes and presses his forehead to yours. “This just for me?”

“Yes,” you can’t even lie.

“My girl,” he ruts up into you, catching your entrance through the fabric. “My beautiful girl. Makin’ sweet sounds, gettin’ all slick. Can’t believe I waited this long before gettin’ you.”

He continues with his praise, excited at how you respond. It makes you kiss his jaw and throat as he speaks.

“Wanna feel your wetness on my cock. Make you beg for me. Wanna tell you how pretty you are when you cum. Never wanna let you go.” He’s absolutely drunk on you. You’d never expected another round in the morning at 4am.

You nip his earlobe, skating your hands up his bare chest and enjoying the rapid inhales and exhales as he talks. Whatever you’re doing, it’s making him twice as desperate. He must enjoy necking.

Bucky reaches for his suitcase hastily. You wrap your fingers around his length while he is distracted, enjoying the twitch and low moan of appreciation. He’s quickly back on you, ripping apart the wrapper and letting you sheath him before he begs entrance.

From your side, you aren’t sure it’ll be comfortable. But the way he holds you close and comfortable makes for sweet, gentle, sleepy sex.

“How many of those did you pack?” You whisper as he thrusts slowly into you. The pleasure of being full and feeling the drag of him is somehow more than speed would bring.

“Oh,” he purrs as he knows it was presumptuous. “A few. Why? Afraid we will run out?”

You keen quietly and kiss him, unsure if you should nod.

“It will at least last us today,” he smiles before kissing you back.

It’s slow, soft, and absolutely soul wrenching.

The way your bodies move in sync feels so much more intimate than anything you’ve done before. He guides your hips at first, then your motions blend like a tide. He doesn’t pull in and out so much as stay pressed against your deepest and favourite spot, pushing harder in rhythm.

Trying to stay silent is tantalizing. It builds your subliminal communication and you feel doubly connected.

Being pushed tight against Bucky makes you feel precious. You could swear your bodies blend together, every heartbeat and lungful of air belonging to both of you at once.

The building pressure pulls like a taut elastic, fraying just beneath the surface.

“Stay,” he whispers, like a promise he will. “Be with me. Can’t get enough.”

You whimper and nip at his stubble, fingers imprinting in his back.

“These pretty sounds, you begging for me, what better gifts.” Bucky sounds like he has run a marathon. As if you’ve knocked the air right out of him just by being here.

Bucky can’t stop his heart and mind from racing together. He’s never been more happy or calm or excited or healed. It feels like home and peace.

It’s way too soon to say I Love You. In all honesty, you still hardly know each other. But this feeling is overwhelming. It feels like forever. It warms him and soothes the ache in his bones.

Even the way your bodies move doesn’t feel primal, he feels like you’re an extension of himself. The crisp air touching your skin and his is the perfect way to awaken every nerve as he keeps pushing ever deeper, hands clasping your body like a lifeline.

You hug him as the elastic snaps and ricochets through your body. All you can think is how much closer you need him.

“That’s it, baby. Come all over me. Give me those sounds,” he begs.

When you latch fiercely at his neck, he pulls you somehow even closer. And he bottoms out inside you, sure everything that happened to him lead him to you. Right here.

You’re sleeping in front of the fire. Your parents have a space where it’s comfortable to lay near it, and you prepared it just for you and Bucky.

Bucky had to put on a shirt with a collar to disguise your hickey you left. He gently stroked your side back and forth until you’d both fallen asleep.

Now, he is resting quietly with you leaned against him. His eyes are closed as he lets his head roll onto yours, placed on his shoulder.

“Wondered if you two had a late night,” your dad says, rousing Bucky from nearly drifting off.

“Good morning,” he says softly with a groggy voice. “How was your movie?”

“Excellent. Got home quite late. But I haven’t slept since the trouble, so I wanted to let my wife rest. We can open stockings, if everyone would like.” Your dad sits gruffly on his chair, drinking tea in his house coat and pyjamas.

“I’ll let her wake up. Shouldn’t be long, I guess.” He watches you adjust but remain asleep.

“Oh, she can sleep for days if you let her. Just so you know, for future.”

The room is quiet for a moment, as Bucky assesses what is being said.

“I’m glad this worked out. I’m not sure how long I’ll be around for these two. But you seem like a good man, who isn’t going to waste the rest of his life messing around or hurting anyone.” Your dad doesn’t like getting too touchy-feely. That’s likely as close to his blessing as he will give.

“You knew?”

“I guessed. You should never let her play poker, you’ll lose the shirt off your back. But whatever made it necessary, and whatever happens with you kids, just know I’m happy you got her here. This is probably one of the last christmases I will really remember, and I am grateful that this is how it has started. That she’s home.”

Bucky swallows hard, realizing this meant more than he could really understand. He wraps his fingers between yours where you’re resting.

“I’m happy to have met you both.”

“James! You two got the fire going- oh, how wonderful. Now, I don’t want to put any pressure on you. But we only see our little girl once a year. So if you have any big plans- you really ought to do them before you leave. Christmas sounds perfect, doesn’t it, Darling?” She chirps and her husband shakes his head.

At least one of them will understand why Bucky isn’t exactly ready for proposing.

“Mom, stop harassing him,” you wake and grumble.

“Why? Think I won’t do it?” Bucky plays, missing the way you blushed before.

“Is this my Christmas present? The three of you hanging up on me?”

“No, Love.” Love. That nickname just slipped out. “Your father wanted to open stockings. Are you ready? Or do you want coffee?”

“Oh,” you realize Bucky has a stocking prepared. “Yes, please.”

Everyone opens their stockings, and you’re surprised by the small, sweet, gifts Bucky must have snuck into your parents’. For you, it’s a pair of earrings Natasha must have suggested. Affordable, but very pretty, in your birthstone.

When he helps put them in, it’s clumsy. But you still feel like the most fascinating and beautiful human on earth when his eyes are on you.

Bucky is touched by everything your family gives. Even the Christmas chocolate orange seems to bring him joy when your dad demonstrates how to smash it.

Your folks got him new gloves, seeing how worn his were. They’d gone in together to get him a record player, and he was speechless. It’s not there, but there are photos of the model being sent to Stark Tower. Your parents understood the gratitude he felt. He had a few gifts from Natasha and Steve, movies or music they wanted him to catch up on.

“What’s this?” You open a box with a folded couple of sheets of paper.

“Find out,” he encourages.

Tickets. Each of your names on a ticket, with a brochure.

“What’s going on?” Your mother is impatient as ever.

“Bucky… he got us a bus to a cabin. On my favourite lake. For summer time.” They all smile at Bucky and he awkwardly takes your hand when you process it.

It’s from he and Steve and Natasha. Likely because of the circumstances for your family, your dads flagging memory. But it’s so thoughtful and important. It will be something impossible to replace when he starts to fade.

“Well, maybe then we will finally see a ring. Right, son?” Your mother chirps again, hopefully, and you blush like mad.

Bucky peppers kisses on your cheek emphatically, until you’re giggling with abandon. It truly feels light, and like the world is at your feet. Even your dad is smiling.

The last gift is from you to him. It’s not as luxurious as a trip. But you really really hope he likes it. He said he wanted to be treated like himself and move forward.

Inside is a gift card to a barber shop. He can get his hair trimmed and quaffed, or have his face shaven. It’s up to him, and you want him to feel that way. There’s a tie, so he can dress up if he ever wants. Cuff links.

You want him to feel confident and dress in things that are his own. He would never spend the money on himself, so you did it for him. A vote of faith that he can be who he wants to be.

Bucky hugs you and smiles.

“Guess I’m gonna have to take my girl dancin’,” he laughs and taps your nose. “Good thing I lost my ID card so many times. Can’t imagine missin’ out on you.”

When your parents get up to prepare the breakfast they make every year, you kiss him as passionately as you can muster. It feels like you’re teenagers as you tug the edge of his sweater and trust he is tracking your parents.

“Is this a good Christmas? I- I can give your family some time together. Maybe call Steve.” He rubs the hem of your shirt between his fingers. So confident and flirty, yet so afraid you’ll leave at first chance.

“I do think you should call Steve. I appreciate you giving us time, but I think they’re addicted. They love you, Buck. And that won’t change if we don’t, yknow, live happily ever after…” you don’t know how serious he wants to be. He said he would stay, but that’s different than wanting a whole life together.

“I hope we do. I have felt lucky to meet you. You treat me like I’m human, and you don’t force me to stay in atonement. I was always feeling guilty for moving on, until you.”

His eyes are so soft, honest, and open to you.

“I like the part where you make it feel like forever.”

“I like the part where you blush, even though you’re all mine.”

Both of you smile like lovesick puppies.

“Let’s start slow. Where did you want your life to be by next Christmas morning?” Bucky watches you think.

“I dunno…”

“You do. I think you do. But you never say it out loud, and you never admit it. Because then it’s real, and it’s scary if it doesn’t happen. Right? But you dream of something.” Bucky cups your face and watches your smile fade as you grow emotional. “I do, too.”

As you nod, you try to build the nerve to admit to him what you wish in some mythical future.

“It’s crazy,” you laugh at yourself. “It’s really, really foolish. I’m not even that kind of person. But when I’m all alone and I see my friends’ wedding invites and pregnancy announcements, I get scared of never having it… I would want to be committed. I dunno...”

“You do. You know what you want. It’s safe to say it, to me. If you need time, you can tell me later. But I want you to know those are the things I want to hear. For you to feel safe about. Even if maybe this is too soon, I want to know when you’re ready.”

No one has ever asked what you wanted. Not in this way- about the next year or your life. Especially in a way that made you feel like they were ready to put the outline on the puzzle and help you build.

“Bucky. I am gonna show you off like crazy when I get home,” you smile and try not to tear up.

“So I can take you dancin’? Just follow my lead, you’ll be alright.” He kisses your temple and inspects the tie you bought him with pleasure.

“Good morning.” Bucky quietly gets in through the door.

“Good morning. Logan’s still asleep, he gets up at 8, on days off, or he can get really overwhelmed.” She keeps her voice low.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I wanted to make sure you got coffee before everyone got to it.” He knows it becomes a little bit of a race once everyone’s awake.

“Thank you. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Kind of wipes me out.” She takes her coffee cup from me with both hands wrapped around it. I find it endearing how she slowly takes a sip, almost child-like in candour.

“I wasn’t sure how much of a coffee person you were, I brought hot chocolate as well. I could leave it for Logan, if he likes?” Bucky looks at the tray he brought with him.

She smiles wide, seeing the bag of bagels and tray of coffees.

“You really don’t want to go to breakfast?” She laughs as she understands his ulterior motive.

“I… I do. I want to take you. It’s just a lot, for me.” He feels like he’s disappointing her. She’s been invited so she can enjoy the holiday season, and yet he is here, kept in her suite, because he’s reluctant to go.

“Well, it’s a lot for me, too.” She steps forward, still holding her coffee cup in both hands, but he’s sure he can feel the heat from it she’s so close. “Maybe we could take it slow?”

Bucky’s heart stutters as he considers if she just means the events, or if she means more.

“I’d like that.” He isn’t sure which he means, either. Both? If he could have them to himself in the mornings, it helps grease the wheels for all the socializing during the day. And if he gets her for an hour each night, that’s nice, too.

“Do you mind keeping me company after the parties? It helps me unwind, after getting Logan to bed. Otherwise, I get in my own head, and stay awake, stressing about these jobs and money, and everything else.”

“I do the same. And I will happily spend time with you.” He sets the hot chocolate in the microwave, where he can reheat it later when Logan is up.

“I slept amazing. All these amenities really help, plus the good company.” She pulls the top off her muffin, tearing a bit off and eating it.

“I couldn’t agree more.” He watches her methodically eat her muffin another moment. “I’ve never eaten one of those that way. Does it taste better?”

She feels a little on edge, but can tell he means it sincerely. Her odd habits and Logan’s have been a target of ‘loving teasing’ for a long time. It is a source of embarrassment.

“I… I eat a lot of things in certain ways. So does Logan. I’m fairly adjusted, like I can do things other ways if I have to, but he’s particular.” She awkwardly picks up the next piece of the muffin top, before awkwardly frowning.

“Maybe I should try.” He picks out a muffin and mirrors her habit. “What other things do you eat that have rules?”

“Umm,” she hums as she watches him follow her lead. “I eat everything in order of least favourite to favourite. Cold foods can’t touch warm ones. Certain foods have a texture I can’t stand. I’m fairly easy, now that I’m grown up.”

She stares at him, a little unsure how he will respond. He’s a stranger, suddenly exposed to all her oddities she’s most embarrassed by. If he thinks she’s weird, maybe he won’t want to spend time with her or her son.

“I’ll have to remember, when we eat. Some of those sound very sensible- no one wants lukewarm Turkey or something. Do you like desserts?” He wonders if she still likes ice creams, cakes, chocolates, or other things.

“I don’t really like candy or sweets, but I like ice cream cake. Logan gets one every year for his birthday, and I do the same for mine.” She explains.

Bucky nods, absorbing the information. She sits on the couch, facing him until he sits across. He finishes his muffin in the same fashion as she does, enjoying her awkward little smile when he pops the last piece in his mouth.

She has long been embarrassed by her own quirks. It’s nice to have someone interested in them, and willing to accommodate. More, it’s comforting to think he won’t be put out by the habits and preferences of her son.

When Logan wakes, he runs straight to Bucky. His mind appears on one thing: thanking him for the dinosaurs.

“I’m glad you liked them. There’s something small like that every day until Christmas.” He promises himself that Logan will love whatever he gets. She will have to come Christmas shopping with him, so he can be sure what to get them both, and so she can get Logan something special and not worry over the cost.

Bucky makes the hot chocolate warm again, and watches as Logan eats the muffin in the same manner as his mother. He is buzzing to go see his new friends, and Bucky is glad to know they will be just as thrilled. Even counting Quill, who seems to be reliving his own childhood by entertaining the kids.

“He’s having fun.” She seems to me confirming what she can see, when Logan races off to the kids section to watch Jurassic Park, as promised. Apparently, it will be a marathon.

“Are you?” Bucky checks in.

“Of course. I just wish I weren’t ruining all this with my own anxiety. I haven’t heard back from any jobs.” She sighs, deflated, and navigates the breakfast buffet. Logan had a full plate before she sent him off, and Bucky was intrigued by the food and the way it was organized.

“What have we here?” Someone calls. Bucky startles, thinking he could be the spectacle, but relaxes when he sees Steve and Sharon arrive. They say hello to a number of people before Steve sets eyes on Bucky.

“Hello,” he waves to her. “I heard Bucky had a guest. Are you enjoying the holidays?”

She seems flustered as he addresses her. She must know who Steve is, then. He asks a few things about her, and Bucky feels a sense of pride that they get along so well. Steve seems impressed that she has pulled Bucky from his shell.

“Steve, I’m gonna go get some air. The smell of all the food is a bit much for me.” Sharon cringes. She has been nauseated, Steve has told Bucky about it and hasn’t been able to be around much because he’s been helping her.

“Oh, I remember that feeling. Nothing worse than the wall of smells when you open a door.” She laughs and connects with Sharon.

“You have a son, right? Steve was so excited when he heard. Maybe the two of us can talk. I’m so nervous about every single thing.” Sharon rubs her small bump, and Steve kisses her cheek.

“Yes, he’s off to watch the dinosaur movies. But I remember being scared, and it feels a little better knowing even really strong women are. When you get to hold them, though, it’s worth everything. And even if it sucks to give birth, you somehow want another one right after.” She laughs.

Bucky is listening a little too intently. Steve can tell, but seems bemused. Suddenly, she’s not just a woman with a child he thinks is great. She has this whole life behind her, that he doesn’t know about, and probably some big plans for what to do with her freedom.

“It must not be too powerful a feeling, if you only have one? Or did you want more?” Sharon inquires because she had originally wanted at least two. Steve had been eager to agree when they first got married.

She stumbles just for a moment, and he can tell her answer is rehearsed. He’s done it many times. The way she says everything flatly, with a frozen, submissive smile, is telling.

“I wanted to focus on Logan, so it’s just him. How else would I afford the endless years of degrees in palaeontology he is going to get?”

Everyone laughs. Bucky wants to slide his hand into hers. He wants to tell her it’s okay to be sad or whatever it is. That’s her business, her history, her life. But maybe one day he will be part of it and he can tell her he’s sorry for whatever happened.

Sharon excuses herself shortly after, unable to stomach all of the breakfast foods. Bucky can’t help but be happy to take her attention back, though Steve advises him not to get too involved too quickly. He does have great conversations with her, and seems to be a fan of Logan whenever he races over.

The boys teach Logan games, and he couldn’t be more thrilled. Though at times, they’re entertained simply by the movies playing, they also can’t wait to gear up for the trampoline park. Stark set it up at Morgan’s behest.

They wait a while after lunch, then take all the kids to the gymnasium. It’s not somewhere Bucky has been, before, but it’s part of the kids centre for all of the parents who live on the campus. Logan sees a blow-up dinosaur in one corner, and Quill joins to create some eccentric game.

Before they know it, Quill, Sam, AJ, Cass and Logan are all bouncing while inside of inflatable suits. Two dinosaurs, one cowboy on a horse, and two Minions.

She’s in stitches at the crowd of bouncing kids and adults.

“Thank you,” she giggles at the end of the session before dinner.

“You’re welcome.” Bucky catches her eye and is proud of the glimmer of happiness that waits there. She’s overwhelmed by how happy Logan is, and he is impressed to know he helped.

Just as everyone is starting to serve up for dinner, FRIDAY alerts that a guest is requesting access to the Compound.

“Show us the camera.” Steve seems to have a sense for who it is. Bucky does, too, by the way FRIDAY is announcing and mentions a badge.

“You boys are holding my wife, who kidnapped my son. I suggest she and my boy come back home, or I’ll have to report her.”

Atticus. How would he know where they were? Bucky made certain that nothing tracked her back to the compound. There’s a very good chance he could report Logan as kidnapped and the repercussions would be serious. He’s glaring at the camera, too.

“How did he find us?” She asks as Bucky stands with Sam and Steve.

“We’re gonna go find out. You stay inside, keep Logan busy.” Bucky doesn’t want to use that voice any more. The serious one, that means danger is nearby. But he needs to make sure everyone here is safe.

The three of them get down to the gates, seeing Atticus casually sat on the hood of his car. He flicks a cigarette butt, and pulls his coat back to flash his gun on his belt.

“I know you think you’re protecting her. But she’s not well. Sick in the head.” The man walks toward the opening gates. “They need to come home with me. I’ll keep them safe. The boy has issues, and his mother is crazy.”

Bucky frowns harder at the man. He feels his mouth curve down the more angry he becomes.

“They’re plenty safe, here. If you’re concerned, you can reach out to our legal team.” Steve tries to take the helm.

“Nah, I think I’ll be returning home with my family. Hand ‘em over.”

“They’re staying here.” Bucky growls as the man postures and approaches.

Atticus has a ghost car, by the looks of things. It has a metal grill and the same marks as the other he’d seen. He also doesn’t seem intimidated by any of them.

“Some hero you are, stealing another man’s family for the holidays. Always knew she’d need someone more messed up than she is.” The words carry more bite than Bucky wishes they did.

Sam steps up, one hand gently restraining Atticus by the chest.

“Nobody needs to get hurt today. Why don’t you contact the legal team, and we can help with your transition?”

“I’m goin’ in there. And I’m bringing them home.” He grunts and turns quickly on his heel. Atticus gets in his car, and Sam starts the gates closing. Just as they start to swing shut, Atticus revs his engine and kicks into gear.

As the vehicle slams the gate, Bucky steps in front and catches the grill with his left arm. He braces against the road, hoping his shoes hold out. His eyes lock in Atticus’ as the car grinds to a halt, Bucky lifting the front wheels from the ground. The face the man makes is something Bucky would pay millions to see again.

Sam approaches, opening the door and speaking lowly to Atticus. Bucky doesn’t blink, he doesn’t relent, and he doesn’t break a sweat as he thrusts the vehicle back onto the ground and knows there’s a major dent where Atticus ran into him.

“This is gonna GPS remote control your vehicle until you’re in New York City limits. That clear?” Sam pulls a tab from Redwing.

Bucky catches it, attaching it to the car engine and keeping eye contact.

“I’ll be back, and I’ll be ready for you three. You got that?” Atticus tries to remain threatening.

“Go home, and make sure you are ready, if you feel like returning. Bye.” Steve waves as the car starts to pull away, controlled by Sam and Redwing now.

“How do I keep her from him?” Bucky asks as soon as words return to him.

“I don’t know. But there has to be a way.” Sam replies as Steve checks on Bucky. He can’t hurt Atticus, that puts everyone in a worse position. But he can’t turn her loose with the amount of corrupt power he has and the determination of finding her.

I promised you all spice! 🌶️🌶️🌶️ don’t forget I survive off comments and follows 🥰

———————

The entire time you’re making the sweaters, you keep catching Bucky’s eye. It’s warm and flirty, and doesn’t go under the radar to Steve and Natasha.

You get glue everywhere, and you have no idea how spy and army skills have transferred so easily to this craft for everyone else. An entire preschool would have less glitter on your mothers floor.

Bucky has you help with his. It involves subtle touches, and him standing close behind you to observe. He murmurs guidance and doesn’t mock the fact you look like a toddler doing finger painting.

Natasha’s ugly sweater is somehow still beautiful. The colours sparkle in just the right ways, and the deer everywhere feel like art more than anything “ugly.”

Bucky’s is the clunkiest. Likely because you’ve assisted. He has pipe cleaners sewn awkwardly, glitter glued in the approximate shape of stars, and a very demented looking Santa. This wasn’t your forte, and you’re happy he doesn’t seem to mind.

“So, the parents don’t mind you dating him?” Steve has seemed interested in how your parents have handled everything. But if he’s like Bucky, he may be missing his own.

“No. Dad’s been pretty chill about it, I think he’s curious about who Bucky is. My mom might never let him leave,” you elbow Bucky who is trying to pretend he’s not listening.

“They’ve been very welcoming. And her enthusiasm hasn’t stemmed from the Avengers, really, which is nice.” Bucky chews his cheek and avoids bringing something up. “We saw It’s a Wonderful Life.”

You wrap an arm in his and squeeze. He half smiles at you and you love that you can have conversations just with a look. It feels like you’re on the same wavelength.

Steve nods, understanding how that particular film would make Bucky feel. They seem to have a different subliminal conversation, as Bucky nods as well and hugs you.

You can’t get over how much you love that. The perfect pressure, the solidness of his chest, and the way it makes every muscle in your shoulders relax.

The day is filled with little touches, gentle caresses, and whispers in your ear. All you can think is how he admitted earlier that he’d thought about sleeping with you. Whenever you replayed his words in your mind, you felt your chest flush.

“Can’t stop thinking about me?” Bucky crows. You’re decorating a cookie, something you’re somewhat better at, and he traces the back of his fingers over your figure.

Your body temperature rises immediately.

“Nah, I just get really excited for these parties.” You turn to face him and he steps in, almost forcing you to sit on the counter.

“Yeah?” He swipes some of the icing from the bowl and smears it on the tip of your nose, then lower lip. “So this,” he murmurs and sucks on your lower lip, “does nothing for you?”

A soft hum startles you in your own voice as you taste the icing and Bucky at once.

“That’s how I know you’re thinking it,” he smirks.

“What?” It pulls you from your daze and you listen to see if anyone is nearby.

“You make this breathless sound. Every time I kiss you, and now it’s every time you think about it. Or are you thinking of more?” He sits you on the counter by your hips.

He dips down to kiss your face and jaw, and suddenly you don’t care who is around. You’re not sure if you could ever ask him not to do this. The entire world falls away as he slowly, teasingly, nips your ear.

“There,” he says as you mewl quietly again. “That.” He kisses harder and you do it again. “I need that sound.”

You catch yourself before loudly moaning. Reality snaps back in and you look at him like you’re in shock. Bucky reads it perfectly and tugs you off the counter, not too shy to give you one more deep and rough kiss.

“I have to go get ready,” you excuse yourself and try to collect yourself again before crossing Steve and Natasha in the living room.

When you throw on your extravagant sweater, you check every part of yourself in the mirror. You wonder if Bucky thinks you’re attractive, and realize you’re a little self conscious. Other women will be at the party, and some are gorgeous. Natasha is even incredible.

You think about what you love about yourself. Your brows, your hair, and your chest. And you try to trust he is genuine in his interest. It makes you nervous to think he will see your body bare. Maybe you’re ahead of yourself.

The doorbell rings and you know guests are going to pour in shortly. You rapidly touch up your makeup and fluff your hair before catching Bucky before he felt abandoned.

He’s just shaking hands with someone when you join him, and he immediately winds an arm around you. You act like you’ve won the biggest prize, showing him off a little as people file in.

Bucky never takes his eyes off you. In his eyes, it’s like you are wearing the sexiest cocktail dress and made up like a model. Even though you are wearing a shirt with flashing Christmas lights sewn on.

“You’re the Winter Soldier,” one of the older men says.

Bucky only hesitates one moment before trying to brush it off. But it attracts other peoples’ attention, even ones fawning over Captain America at your mothers party.

“Weren’t you a terrorist?”

“He’s been pardoned!”

“Yeah, he was brainwashed.”

“That’s just the media, he was a Russian spy!”

Debate breaks out amongst many people and you know Bucky can hear every word. He said he wanted to move on, and didn’t want people to focus on his history.

“Bucky is my boyfriend. He’s a great man, and has an exciting future as part of the Avengers. I’m so happy for everyone to meet him. Please, help yourselves to the food and drinks, I’m so excited to catch up.” You try to avoid a scene, while setting a clear boundary. If they want to gossip, it’ll have to be after they get home.

One couple leaves, and one older fellow keeps a keen eye on Bucky. But no one else is outwardly rude.

Bucky guides you to the living room where everyone is singing and dancing, and sways with your body close to his. Gratefulness exudes from his touch.

“Say that first part again,” he whispers straight into your ear. He’s hopeful Steve isn’t listening in, but he’s sure Natasha has bugged the whole house by now so they can keep tabs after leaving.

“What?” You nervously giggle.

“The bit where you told everyone you knew here that I was your boyfriend. I don’t love the term, but I loved hearing you say it.” He brings your hand to his shoulder and places his hand on your hip.

“I mean, I couldn’t out us now, could I? But I do suppose ‘boyfriend’ is a silly word for a 104 year old super soldier.” You laugh when he rolls his eyes.

“Alright. But you know, people propose at Christmas. And your parents think we have been dating a while. Maybe they expect a show,” he wags his brows.

“Oh, please, no,” you beg as if you believe he would do it. Surely not.

“Imagine if I called a toast,” his hand slides up and down your curves. “What would they do if I started to profess my love? Or told them you aren’t having any alcohol tonight?”

He would never. It’s an odd sense of trust that he would never embarrass you, not at all. This isn’t meant to make you nervous, it’s meant to fill your head with feel-good nonsense. Maybe indulge in some of his fantasies.

His last words take a moment to click. If he gave your mom any idea that you couldn’t drink or felt nauseated, she would probably start crying with joy. Of course, it was a ridiculous notion about a man you had only kissed yesterday. But you really could see a future with someone like him.

When he spoke with you at work, it was evident you had the same core values. Similar interests. And you felt confident when he was around, even if you were overthinking and shy.

“Stop playing,” you whisper and he kisses your forehead.

“Just seeing if you liked the preview,” he grins. “There’s that sound I love.”

You hope the noise you made is not noticed by those around you. Judging by his response, only he would have heard.

Natasha and Steve aren’t overwhelmingly swarmed by people, thankfully. It’s mostly older couples that are friends with your parents. Avengers seem very new-aged to them, so it’s only the children and folks around your age who care much. After the first hour or so, the excitement wears down.

There is the slight possibility of photos of you with Bucky being everywhere by morning.

The Christmas lights flashing on your sweater brighten his face in different ways every few minutes. It seems to entertain him. He finds every excuse to touch your knit sweater, stealing moments where his fingertips can brush beneath the hem.

He’s well and truly addicted to that sound you make when you’re trying to rein in your libido. If there is a chance he can get you to make it, he tries. Between hidden kisses and secret whispers, he is making you delirious and wanton.

“Only two drinks, Bug? A slow night for you.” Your mother launches into stories about how you got too drunk at a few events when you were young. All you manage is to beg the world to give you time to yourself with Bucky before you both need to pass out.

If you keep drinking, you’ll make stupid decisions. Or not make decisions you want to, very badly, because you’re intoxicated. So you do your best to stick to drinks that won’t hit too hard.

You keep finding reasons to go into the other rooms just so Bucky can follow behind you like a puppy. He ducks into whatever crevice you can find and holds your hips or ghosts his lips over your neck. A complete tease, you think. And sometimes, he tells you he can’t stop thinking about when he finally has you alone.

Every time Natasha sees you she has a knowing smile. You two normally talk about other things with the other coworkers you have in admin or entry level mission assistants. Or you discuss best date locations, restaurants, and events in the parks. It never occurred to you she’d noticed your crush on Bucky.

Bucky himself was trying desperately to hold himself back. Every time you make others laugh, he wants to make you laugh. When people share stories about you, he wants to make memories together.

Some people are still whispering about him. Steve can tell, and does his best to change the subject whenever he hears something. Overall, people are handling it well. It helps that your dad says supportive things and your mom, more and more tipsy, is sharing every detail of how smitten you were with him, and how evident your chemistry is.

Some people ask about an engagement, and his heart leaps to his throat. Of course this is brand new, he’s still in whatever phase this is where everything seems exciting. But as a vague future idea, this is the first time he’s ever considered it.

People keep an impeccable eye on you when kids come to say hello. Some are rambunctious and poke at your sweaters, a few pointing out the terrible job you did on Bucky’s. He isn’t certain how to interact with the little ones.

One of your mothers friends throws logs on the fire by constantly sending children back your way any time they need a hand or get bored. Bucky hesitantly allows one child to lean against him, complaining they’re tired.

He feels deeply out of his wheelhouse. They threaten to cry if moved, so he sits stock still until they fall asleep. But when you smile at him for his kindness, he realizes he is just as addicted to that spark in your eye as the sound you make when he touches you.

It’s not until dinner is served that a parent collects the child, strewn across his lap. But as everyone files out, you call that you need to wash up. The downstairs bathroom is occupied by others, so you lead him upstairs.

“Sorry everyone is being so insane. I know we aren’t even official—”

“Let’s be.” Bucky knows you’re on a time crunch before someone else wanders upstairs to wash up. He doesn’t want to chicken out, either.

“What? No- there’s no pressure, Bucky. I’m fine as long as we are on the same page.” That page being ‘eyes for only each other’.

“I think,” he sits you on the counter, “you should be all mine.”

You can tell from his smile that you’ve made that little whine again. But he hovers just a breath away from your lips, encouraging you to close the gap.

“Can I make you mine?” Bucky says it so sweetly that you feel weak in the knees.

“Dinner,” you blurt and press a palm to his chest, but the red of your ears and face is a giveaway.

“Dinner. But I’m having you for dessert.”

As hard as Bucky tries to behave through the rest of the evening, you both feel the increasing sexual tension. His hand is on your thigh at the table, not inherently sexual, but somewhat enticing.

Steve and Natasha leave immediately after dinner (where you are both harassed to no end about plans for your future, which suddenly felt Ike more pressure than when this was just pretend). They triple check with Bucky that he’s not coming to the jet, but seem generally pleased that he declines.

A wave of relief sweeps through you when he finally closes the door and gives you a look of mischief. You try hard to be disappointed they’ve gone, but you’re secretly thrilled.

After a few more drinks, you decide to cut yourself off entirely. The night is going longer than you expected and your nerves made you indulge just enough to feel a buzz. Or is this just how it feels to know the person you want wants you?

Bucky has you sit on his lap when most of the people have left or put away chairs. There’s less room, and the remaining couples are getting comfortable now that there’s less chatter.

“I love you,” the other couples say to each other as a soft Christmas song plays and the lights are low and beautiful. It’s snowing outside, everything is perfect.

Bucky watches you. The way your sweater lights glow on your skin. The way you observe the other couples as they whisper sweetly between themselves. You’re enamoured. When you catch him staring, he can’t look away.

You were right, everyone departs around nine. They all have early Christmas events with family, so even those without children are heading out shortly after things settle down. Maybe you forgot to mention that your parents like to go back to their friends place for whisky and cigars to watch a Christmas film. It had felt strange to mention, before.

Every touch between you is electric. And Bucky feels the hunger deeper every step up the stairs.

“Dessert?”

A wolfish grin greets you. “Would you like dessert? If not, we can get some rest.”

It doesn’t matter to you any more. All you can do is kiss Bucky fervently, tangling his locks in your fingers and blessing his ears with that sound he craves.

“Mmmm, more,” he urges when you let out the faintest squeak. “Need it more, louder, sweeter.”

Tumbling out of you is a trail of needy sighs and keens. Bucky unwraps you like a gift, chasing every inch of skin with kisses. It tickles in some spots, prompting more thorough touches and teeth. Anything so you’ll elicit a noise.

He craves tangible proof that you want him like he wants you. Evidence that you’re enjoying this and that he pleases you.

Dizzy with need, you feel him sit you on the bedside. He raises your calf gently to rest your thigh on his shoulder. Delicate kisses leave a wet pathway as your pulse races and you feel him lick deeply into you.

“Fuck,” that’s the only word in your brain. Bucky latches on to add suction and trace around your sensitive clit gently. As soon as your hips start to rock, he reads you like an open book and uses more force and contact.

One hand sneaks up, cupping and massaging your tit. His forefingers prod your nipple after a moment, stimulation in tandem with his mouth. Hearing him groan almost knocks you out on the spot- you can feel that you got wetter and clenched around his tongue.

“Sound so pretty,” he rasps and holds your thigh tighter.

“Bucky,” you squeal as he presses two digits into your folds and curls them into the perfect spongy spot you love. But the hum of his stifled chuckle only brings you higher.

He pushes his fingers deep and finds a rhythm that makes your leg lock around him. His opposite hand is still pinching and pulling just right with his mouth and fingers. It doesn’t take long to come blindingly hard.

“My favourite sound yet,” he soothes as you finally come back down to earth. He wipes his mouth with his hand but isn’t shy about kissing you regardless.

“I- I didn’t exactly plan for this.” Bucky is shedding is shirt and your eyes are glued to him. You realize what comes next and don’t know if you’re level headed enough to turn him down if you need to.

“Fuck, I wanna feel you raw one day,” he growls and lets you pull off his belt and start tugging at his pants. “But I have what we need.”

The promise of future sessions makes you elated. And the slide of his pants reveals boxers that are straining deliciously to keep Bucky at bay.

Your hands move the front of his underwear down and Bucky watches you with dark eyes as you reach for him. It’s silky smooth and solid in your hand, his eyes fall closed and he groans at the contact.

“I get why you like the sound, now,” you smile. He just made the same one.

“Can’t let you keep that up, baby,” he grinds out. But you pump your hand around him, drunk on the way he responds to every stroke. Your thumb slips over the slit to collect precum and Bucky takes your wrist.

Before you can ask if you’ve done something wrong, he arranges you on the bed. You roll the condom on and it makes him suck air through his teeth.

“That’s not how I wanna cum. Or where.” Every bone in your body turns to mush as he captures your moans again and situates himself between your legs and lets you take a breath.

You adjust on the covers and memorize everything about his welcoming presence above you. He looks away only a moment to appreciate your body and notch himself at your entrance.

When you nod, he leans forward and sucks a nipple into his mouth. Then he kisses you. “I love- everything about you.”

As insane as it sounds, it makes you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to swipe his tongue into your mouth. He slowly sinks inside, guiding your hips to angle when things get tight.

Bucky makes a strangled noise in your ear when he bottoms out, and your legs automatically wrap around him. His hips rotate perfectly into yours and he can’t stop kissing you. It’s his sole purpose to capture every moan.

“Yes- yeah, there,” you feel thrums of perfection and never want it to end.

“Fuck, can feel when you like it,” Bucky leans his body on yours, mindful of the cool metal on your skin. He’s right, you’re tightening everything just so he can’t ever leave you. It feels too right to be wound together like this.

Teeth scrape your collar bone and you pull roughly at his hair again, desperate for more. Kisses have been too soft and tender while you got to know one another.

It doesn’t seem to phase him when you thrust your hips up to meet his and press his teeth and mouth against your skin with more force. Instead, he embraces it and a hand pulls your hips up even harder to his. His pelvis causes friction over your clit and whatever sounds he had dreamed about, he’s overdosing on now.

“Please, Bucky,” you whimper as he praises you nonsensically.

“So good, Dove. You all mine yet, Pet?” He moves one hand to your belly to double the pressure you’re feeling.

“If we can do this all the time.” You gasp when he clamps onto your breast and thrusts a little harder.

“Always.”

His hand pulls at your bum and his body weight perfectly secures you. It’s the most comforting sensation and you sob in pleasure as he presses his thumb to your clit.

“C’mon, baby.” Bucky locks lips with yours and swallows the sounds he’s been begging for. Your whole body pulls him in, impossibly closer.

You need him to muffle your cries as pleasure shocks every nerve in your body. Your nails dig into his back and yet you hear only a pleased, elongated groan.

Bucky seals your lips together and presses himself as deep as he can. The final surges that rush through you match as he finishes climaxing.

“Need you,” you whine and let him pepper more kisses all over your neck.

“I’m here. I’m right here,” he soothes.

The room is filled with heavy puffs from both of you. Bucky folds you into his solid chest and murmurs sweet nothings into your hair. One hand glides over your body like he requires reassurance you’re here.

“Wow,” is all you can muster.

“Yeah, wow,” he returns.

“We really..? And now we..?” You are so afraid that now he’s had you, he will change your mind.

“You’re a treasure. I may never let you out of my bed, Sugar. Gotta make you sing for me.” He brushes your hair back with his knuckle and inspects the skin his stubble reddened.

“I’m never going to live this down at work,” you whisper.

Bucky tucks you into him and wraps you tight in the covers. He traces calming patterns everywhere until you’re drowsy. And he stays, he never waivers.

“Hey, Barnes. Having fun?” Natasha smirks and cocks her head as you both get downstairs. You try to avoid your eye contact, but end up awkwardly catching Steve’s.

“What are you doing here?”

“Bucky!” You try to keep him from being too sharp in front of your parents.

“Sorry. I was just having a good time. Hoped I wouldn’t have to work until after the holidays.” The effort is there, but his tone falls flat.

“We just wanted to stop in. Had a Christmas event in the area. Your mom mentioned a party, maybe we can make it!” Natasha touches your arm warmly. She probably doesn’t need any additional invites, but maybe she wants out of a different option.

“She does love her get togethers. Kind of requires the ugly Christmas sweaters for everyone, though. If you wear a cocktail dress she will hit you with a car.” You feel it’s a fair warning, she hates when people dress fancy and look too perfect for this party. It probably started years before you were born.

“Maybe we will pick some up. Why don’t we all head to the mall? Steve and I will entertain your parents if you have to… get ready.” She winks your way and Steve rolls his eyes. If you could get the courage to peek at Bucky, you wonder if he would be grumpy.

So much for a lazy morning.

You trudge upstairs, afraid to look back and see if you’ve been followed. It still stings a little when you get to the bedroom and find yourself alone. You collect your clothes and care products so you can shower and get ready properly, not just the effortless morning look you had planned.

The water burns but the air is frigid, your mom likes to save on heat. It makes it hard to relax for a few minutes. You shave everything, telling yourself it’s just your regular self care. Not for anything special.

As desperately as you try, you can’t hear anything as you put on proper makeup and organize your outfit. Natasha won’t text you back, and you’re afraid to ask Bucky to come upstairs in case he declines.

—

Bucky watches his friends suspiciously, remaining decidedly downstairs. They interact easily with your parents and he wishes it had felt so easy for him. Or that your dad had been as excited to meet him as he is Steve.

Nobody is talking about why they’re really here. He assumes that will happen when they are out of earshot, out last second Christmas shopping. Your mom is already making a list of things she still needs for the party tonight, and has numerous things in the oven.

Your parents seem very traditional, and he wonders if that’s what you would want. He was obviously raised in a particular period, but having watched couples of this age, including Natasha, he isn’t sure if he wants the traditional. And he realizes he’s mapping a future he may never have.

Did you tell Natasha about him kissing you? He really thought you’d been pleased. You’d sort of swooned when he kissed you deeper in the bathroom, but then he realized he hadn’t waited for permission like the first kiss. He thought maybe you were going to tell him this was a mistake.

He hears you come downstairs and knows Steve hears it, too. He assesses Bucky and can probably tell he’s anxious to see you.

But Bucky feels himself light up and relax as soon as you walk in. Maybe it’s foolish, he thinks, but he loves that sensation.

“Ah, finally. You look very nice. Now James needs to go get ready,” your mom comments as you sit next to him.

You try to hide your disappointment that she’s ushering Bucky off so quickly. Natasha’s smirk means you haven’t done a great job.

Bucky showers quickly, trying desperately not to think too hard about you, lest he have to ‘take care of’ anything that follows. He thinks of how your expression changed when you sat next to him. It makes him feel younger again.

When he finds himself back at the kitchen, you’re speaking to Natasha about the party. He feels emboldened by the courage he worked up and thoughts he was fighting off, and wraps an arm around you to kiss your forehead as he sits.

You watch the men have some silent conversation with their eyes, and try desperately to keep your cheeks from going red. Natasha is too busy observing them to tease you any further.

She’s less preoccupied when you start to doze off while leaning into Bucky’s shoulder, tired from the lack of sleep. Bucky moves, and you realize you’re in view of everyone and start to feel like you’re embarrassing him. But he adjusts to have an arm supporting you, letting you slink in and snooze for a little bit while everyone talks.

“Hey,” he tries to wake you softly. “Gotta go to the store. Your ma’s getting anxious.”

You feel flustered. You try to keep yourself together and check if you are awake enough to drive.

“I got her list. We can get lunch after we shop. Natasha and Steve need to make ugly Christmas sweaters,” he smiles and knows he needs to make one for himself, as well. It will be a fun event.

Bucky doesn’t seem more distant. He sometimes exchanges some kind of interaction with Steve, which you haven’t quite figured out, but he seems happy to have you next to him. And you want him to know you’re not about to disappear.

At least you don’t need to drive. Natasha and Steve have a fancy Shield issued rental, so you all hop in and you are thankful for the leg room. It’s been a while since you’ve sat in the back.

“Barnes, your tracker was hacked. Then hers.” Natasha speaks as Steve follows the map.

“What? We just left her parents with no protection. Why didn’t you call?” Bucky glares at both of them.

“We apprehended the hacker, secured the information, and got even more info on Hydra bases. They’ve gone dark and have no reason to go after anyone right now. We came to get Barnes so he can come home and you can have Christmas with your family,” Natasha explains.

Oh.

Bucky shifts next to you, but says nothing.

“Or we can stay for the party, but we fly home when the Boston event ends. We wanted to be home for tomorrow.” Steve looks at you in the mirror.

“I… I think her parents would have questions.” Bucky avoids your eye and tries the flimsy excuse.

“Tell them you had an emergency mission.” Natasha sounds like she’s campaigning to have all three of them leave now. Steve is giving the option to stay until after the party. But you want him to be here the next 5 days as planned.

“Natasha- maybe he wants to stay.” Steve is less subtle in the way he is angling. Now both of you are on the spot to say you should stay.

Bucky waits for you.

“My mom would be so upset. Will you guys stay? Her party doesn’t go too late,” you offer. “We kind of had plans. I think they’ll be disappointed if Bucky can’t join.”

“Sounds good. Buck- you alright staying? I can only log it as hours until this afternoon. Anything after this is just personal time.” Steve watches you through the mirror, not Bucky.

You can’t bare to look over at him. Instead, you focus out the window as if you haven’t heard any of this conversation. The silence creeps in and you focus intently to the distance.

Bucky’s hand settles on yours. You can’t tell if it’s in apology, or in support. But you figure if he accepted the opportunity to stay, he would have said it out loud.

Buying the Christmas sweater additions feels dramatically less exciting. You try to smile or laugh on cue, but can hardly do it. When Steve tries on a cream cable knit sweater, you’re pretty sure it causes some kind of Christmas ripple effect. Thankfully, Natasha is around to defend her man. The women at your moms party will be falling in love.

Natasha begs you to try on a dress. She likely notices the way you are fully made up and hair done, wishing you didn’t have to opt into an ugly sweater later on.

You relent, if only to have five minutes in a room by yourself so you can pout. You’d known it was foolish to get your hopes up about Bucky. Other people were okay with ‘fun weekends’. Role playing. Flirting with you if you liked them.

Nothing was breezy for you. If you fell, you fell so hard. And you’d been silly enough to admit you liked him. If there was an advantage, you’d lost it. All your cards were pretty well on the table. If Bucky wanted to, he would show his, too. But he’s playing close to the vest.

By the time you’re all done shopping, the lack of sleep is hitting you hard again. It’s more difficult to fib about how you’re feeling.

You all sit for lunch and you pick at what you order, unsure if the distance you’re feeling from Bucky is self created or initiated by him. No arm around you, no hand on yours. Maybe he really was just putting on an act for the weekend. He hardly even speaks to you.

Shouldn’t you be more concerned with the fact Hydra is no longer looking for you? You should take the great news and not ask for more.

Natasha tells stories about the parties and Steve tells tales about Sam and Tony. You are interested, but can’t shake your anxiety.

“What have you two been up to? What’s your favourite part of this week?”

You feel yourself make a nervous smile. Bucky catches your eye for a millisecond before taking a sip of his beer, and you think he’s smiling, too.

“Uhhh,” you drawl like you can only think of his lips on yours and none of the other things you’ve done.

“Gingerbread houses,” Bucky replies easily.

Two matching expressions of curiosity and humour greet you.

“Yeah? Did Barnes build you both a gingerbread house and ask you to move into it with him?”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the pink of your cheeks. Bucky keeps staring at you so hard you think you’ll pass out.

“I noticed you haven’t used the air mattress…”

Bucky almost drowns when he takes another uncomfortable sip of his beer.

“Look, Nat. If you came to drag me home, just wait until after the party. Don’t torment her for Steve’s unnecessary assignment to me. I’m sure I’ll hear about the hours from Stark, later.” Bucky hopes to get them off the scent.

It makes him uneasy to have other people involving themselves. His non-answer earlier was because he didn’t know how bold he should be with Steve right there. If he said he would finish out the week, would that put you on the spot?

Now, he just wants them to stop. It’s too much for such an important and private topic. He knows you like him, but not much else has been discussed. Outside pressure could easily affect either of you, and he wants to preserve how genuine and natural this has felt.

Of course he intends to speak with you in private before the party. He wants you to say he should stay. And he wants to tell you he feels the same, and that he doesn’t want this to just be a week.

He loved offering you small touches, flirting, and compliments everywhere he could. You deserved it. But it feels less honest when there’s a crowd. He also doesn’t want to inspire any additional fuel on their fire, this should be between the two of you.

Once everyone was back at the house, maybe that would bring back some comfort zone.

-

“Thank you, everyone! James, did you sleep alright? You both look exhausted, and we heard a bit of commotion—”

“That’s enough, Dear,” your father interrupts.

“Well, I was worried the mattress was uncomfortable. I went to clean your room and saw fresh sheets, and you two were making a ruckus at 3 in the morning!”

Stunned doesn’t begin to cover it. You are having some sort of paralysis. There is nothing that you can say to her that won’t sound like an excuse or dig your grave deeper.

“Mom, oh my god, we changed the bedding because we were sweaty.”

Your dad stumbles to find words.

“No- not like that! Bucky… he… I mean, it was warm. I had a nightmare! So he helped me change the bed. That’s all. And that’s why I’m so tired.” You try to fall on the sword for him, so he doesn’t have to explain night terrors and where they come from. They know a reasonable amount, but there’s no reason to bring up more.

Steve looks disapprovingly at Bucky, who seems just as dumbfounded as you do.

“Nonsense, darling. Don’t be embarrassed. I know how long you’ve had eyes for this boy, and young love always ends up in the sheets as often as possible.”

“Oh my god,” you say in a pitch you’re pretty sure only dogs can hear. Natasha has to cover her mouth to keep from laughing.

“It was me- I had flashbacks. Nightmares. I sweat through the sheets and she helped me change them so we didn’t have to sleep on the floor.” Bucky tries to save you but still confirms to Steve and Nat that you slept in the same bed.

Your mother ‘awe’s and your dad shakes his head at her. His dad fought in Vietnam, so he knows about PTSD on some level and has tried to be sympathetic to the trouble.

“Look, you have everything you need. I need to emotionally recover before the party. We are going upstairs. Steve, Natasha, if you can get yourselves together, you can come decorate your sweaters with us in the craft room.” You groan and depart.

As soon as you get to the bedroom, Bucky follows behind. You aren’t sure you are able to keep yourself together if he is there. You’re embarrassed, especially since he has acted like he doesn’t want to stay and doesn’t return your feelings.

“Hey, I’m sorry that happened. Are you alright?”

“No!” You whisper-shout. “You don’t have to stay. If you want to leave after the party, fine. But I don’t want to play a happy couple the whole time. I can tell my mom I don’t feel well, and I’m tired. I’ll stay for dinner, chat with Nat and Steve, and then I’ll go to bed. You guys can go after that.”

Bucky catches your hands and then cups your face with his palms. His thumbs wipe the stray tears that fall. When you try to look away he gently tips your chin back.

“I want to be here,” he murmurs. “They want to be here. Let them make sweaters and whatever else, it’ll be alright.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” you whine.

“You do not need to be,” he smiles and checks on you. “I love knowing you’ve liked me for a while. I hope you do for a little while more.”

“Why? Bucky- do you… do you feel the same for me? I don’t want this to be meaningless or weird for me.” You look at him with all the hope in the world.

A long silence stretches and your hope builds then wanes.

Bucky continues to stare at you, then slowly moves in toward your mouth. He pauses for your permission. You nod microscopically and he’s swooping down.

Everywhere he touches with his lips is glowing. It’s still far too chaste, even when he gets carried away. You accept every kiss, every lick, every move of his hands.

“I don’t want to go,” he meets your lips again. “And I don’t ever want to stop doing this.”

You can’t help but smile like you’re drunk. He keeps you held close to him as he watches your response.

“Let’s go make some ugly Christmas sweaters. But seriously, I’m sorry about my mom.”

The dinner starts and they sit next to each other.

The kids sit separately from the adults, and he notices how she keeps checking on Logan. He seems focused on telling Cass and AJ the names of Dinosaurs in alphabetical order.

The boy seems relaxed, in his element, even. Every word is confident, and his eyes light up when he sees his friends listening to all of these new facts with intrigue. It must feel like he belongs, for one of the first times.

Sarah nudges Bucky as everyone gets introduced. He fumbles to introduce her and her son, awkwardly saying they are friends who met through Sam and Sarah.

She seems almost disappointed by his intro, but he isn’t certain why. Should he not have said they were friends? Aren't they friends? He feels like he wants to be her friend but maybe she sees him just as an escape from her marriage?

“Just friends, eh?” Clint bends down to whisper in his ear.

Bucky feels alarmed, turning to face Clint with a questioning glance. Did he voice his thoughts out loud? He glances at her but she is looking at her son.

“I’ve never invited any barely-known female friend and her kid to a holiday event to stay for two weeks. Just sayin’.” Clint chuckles and then walks away.

Bucky feels heat in his cheeks.

Would he ever have stayed late with a bottle of wine with anyone else? Or willingly spent all day with them, including two trips to the city in their car.

“So, where is the kids dad?” Peter Quill asks with a mouth full of food. Bucky immediately tenses again, ready to redirect the conversation. As he opens his mouth, she responds on her own.

“Uhm, we are separated.” She carefully folds a napkin across her lap. “But it’s for the best.”

“Ah, Dad issues. I know those pretty well. Little dude is probably better off having Bucky around, guy’s a good father figure. He even took in a stray Flerken from Danvers, once.”

Bucky completely solidifies at the implication. Everything short circuits as he tries to understand what Quill is saying and how to get around it.

He definitely doesn’t want her to assume he expects something from her. They truly were invited just to have a soft place to land. His unexpected feelings shouldn’t get in the way of helping them both get safe and protecting them from Atticus.

She’s barely left her husband, she doesn’t need Bucky inserting himself anywhere. Physically or otherwise. Does everyone think they’re together?

“I’m sure Bucky is a great role model. He was very generous to invite us here, so Logan could still have a good Christmas.” She effortlessly replies in a way that doesn’t make it sound like anything is going on, but doesn’t necessarily throw the idea out. He keeps reminding himself he doesn’t know her, and needs to back off. She is in a vulnerable state and doesn't need him to complicate things even further. He is a friend, at best...

“Can’t hurt that you’re getting him out of his apartment. I swear he just stalks the halls like a ghost. Kind of gives me the creeps—”

“But he’s more than welcome at Christmas and we are excited to get to know his guests.” Sam talks over Quill.

“I thought you said they met through you?” Natasha smirks at him.

“Through Sarah.”

“But she’s from Manhattan? And Sarah is from Delacroix.” Natasha pokes further holes.

Bucky uncomfortably shuffles around his food. Maybe this was a mistake. He should have let her and Logan mingle, and not got himself involved. Now, she has all this unwanted attention.

“Let’s call it a good deed. And I’m very grateful for it.” She smooths things over again.

He feels her hand on his, under the table, and wishes it meant more. One day, it could be a partner next to him at this table, holding his hand. It could be his kid at the children’s table, who he nervously keeps an eye on to make sure he’s okay.

Maybe he’s unfairly trying to usurp this ready-made family. He suddenly draws his hand away, considering that he may be overstepping. Perhaps he’s only meant to know her so she can have a safe landing, and get on with her life. He starts to spiral when he feels her hand gently on his back, instead.

She’s smiling when he looks over at her. He’s not even sure what expression he makes, because he isn’t sure if he should smile back or not. The act of kindness and reassurance is exactly what he needs.

It’s interesting how he can understand them both, but it’s fascinating how she seems to understand him. When he is about to think himself into a hole, she catches him just as he descends. The gentle gestures make him feel like maybe there is more to this.

“Oh, the kids can all get one of the 5 dollar gifts tonight. We made a deal with them that they can open something small every night until Christmas.” Clint changes the subject, likely out of lack of interest.

She suddenly clams up, like she’s embarrassed. He feels her unease and gently leans in “I got some things for Logan. They’re small, but I wanted him to be included. Is that okay?” Bucky had picked up a few things after dropping her off.

“What? I’ll pay you back, we really don’t need gifts. But I do want him to feel included. I… I really appreciate it.”

“It’s nice to buy gifts for people, again. You don’t owe me anything, I’m grateful for some company.” He tries to brush it off.

She relaxes. She feels her shoulders lower, and gratefully eats her meal.

When everyone is done, hardly any more comments thrown her way, she watches Logan open a small present. It’s a dinosaur figure, which he seems to recognize and recites where the dinosaur is from, and the smile is out of this world.

“What sound do dinosaurs make?” Quill asks when Logan runs over to show him.

All three boys start imitating dinosaur roars, each more menacing and outrageous than the last. Quill even joins in, enthusiastically. Apparently, he had been a bit deprived of childhood dinosaur information and movies.

She flits her eyes at the table full of Avengers. She expects serious faces, murmurs, and people telling her to control her son. Surprisingly, those who are looking are quite entertained, and Tony even stands and offers to play the Jurassic Park movies in the children’s play area after dinner.

Normally, his father would insist he calm down. He’d tell Logan that other people aren’t interested, and not to be too much. When Logan would bring up cars or dinosaurs, he would roll his eyes and ask Logan to learn more about sports.

“I heard him talking about them in the car. I tried to get a few he had told me about, and saw there was a pack on sale. I also got him a few of those small cars, but I don’t know which of those he likes.” Bucky explains as she stands nearby to watch.

She turns around and hugs him. Her face buries in his chest, and she squeezes her arms around his broad torso. Maybe it’s too much, but she hasn’t had anyone accept Logan this way. He must have really been listening when her son spoke about his special interests, and that means the world.

Bucky hesitates as the smell of her shampoo and body wash fill the air. Everything smells like Christmas, like family, and like a home he has long forgotten.

Logan runs over and she wipes at her eyes quickly, listening to every word about his favourite dinosaurs and how they relate to present day animals. She has missed seeing him so free and happy. Even Cass and AJ seem inquisitive instead of judgemental.

These kids are all smart. They’re all interested in something their parents are, or friends are. Everyone’s encouraged to be bright, and passionate. Some are already science geeks, but some are obsessed with other things like sports or film or poets. It’s like this place was made to accept him.

“Thank you, Mister Barnes!” Logan excitedly says again, before bed. He turns to finish his bed routine, and she helps him reach things and tidy up.

Should she invite him for drinks again? She decides to bring out another bottle of wine after getting Logan to bed. He will sneak his game, but she will pretend not to know.

“If I stay, I’ll have to count this as you paying me back for the gifts.” Bucky sits and takes one glass.

“It’s not my wine. So it can’t count as paying you back. Plus, you saved me today. I know that was Atticus’ partner, and I know you were the only reason he didn’t take me straight home.” She clanks her glass to his, before taking a long sip.

“Okay, so how would you like to repay me? I don’t expect anything at all. Really, I just feel like I’m making up for my own history, especially by keeping those guys off your case.” ‘I don't like bullies, no matter who they are,’ is what Steve used to say. And he was right. Bucky rambles as he realizes this conversation is somewhat clumsy, but has potential to be flirtatious.

“I’m not sure if I can make it up to you. So yeah, if you will take time with me as payment, I guess we can work out a deal.” She takes another sip.

Bucky watches her curiously, unsure if he’s reading the situation right.

Does she want him to spent time with her as her payment out of obligation? He prefers that she wants to spend her time because she likes him, too. At least, he’d like her to enjoy their friendship as she takes a breath and tries to relax. Maybe he needs to know more, before he can decide.

“How long have you been trying to leave?” He asks when she sits closer to him. There’s a warmth between them, and he’s scared to spook her. But it’s been two days together, and he wants to know if he’s making a mistake to get invested, or if he should take these two weeks to explore a little.

“Two years ago, I left. But he hired PI’s and found us upstate. He called my employer, and picked up Logan from school while I was working. I knew he would get around the system, he’d get custody. And he threatened to cause me a lot of grief and keep me from Logan.” She sighs.

“So you went back?”

“I did. I did the bare minimum. He took every dollar I made. I took money I was supposed to spend on my hair, because he liked it done. Every month I set it aside so I could try to get away. I thought I could make it out in spring, and wanted to have a job to go to already in Connecticut. But then he started talking about moving away and not letting me work, and I knew I had to get us out.”

She leans back, like it’s nice to have off her chest.

Bucky realizes she has been out of this relationship, at least mentally, a lot longer than he knew. Does that make it a little less weird that he is interested in her? Does she feel the same?

He talks about where she’d like to work, and she talks about when Logan was small. She tries to crack him with questions about his past, but the first couple of times he freezes up. Answers like “I was working for a terrorist organization” or “my brain was being healed in Wakanda from decades of brain washing” didn’t feel like the type of things he could just drop. On her third try, he finally finds a way to answer and not make her feel like she’s intruding.

“Why don’t you take part in group activities? Everyone kept saying they couldn’t believe you brought us, or that you were out of your room. They all think we’re dating. But they seem to care about you.”

They do care about him, but he wasn’t exactly able to be social for most of his life. He struggles to find common ground with those who have grown up in a different culture and time. More, he isn’t sure what’s alright to share and what is too much.

“I haven’t found the right company.” He doesn’t explain further. It’s obvious what he means, but he isn’t sure if he can say more without coming on too strong.

“I like your company, too, Bucky. A lot.” She keeps her eyes on his while she drinks some more. He stares at her dark lashes and feels a burning desire.

“I know you have brought us food, and gifts, and even decorations for our suite. And I know you ordered all this special spa stuff for me. I really need you to know I don’t expect gifts and things from you. But I’m happy we met.”

She leans in to put her empty glass on the table. He leans to do the same, and pauses when they’re just close enough. His tongue wets his lips, and his gaze drops to her wine-stained mouth. If he just moves in…

Her eyes flit to his, and there’s tension he knows he could cut through. Her lips are in a perfect pout as she waits on baited breath for Bucky to make a decision. It doesn’t have to escalate. It can be just a goodnight kiss. She hasn’t felt this way in a long time, and it would be nice to know he feels the same.

But he can’t. She’s here to start her whole life over. It’s been two days and he’s pressuring her to be with him for the duration of her stay, which was never his intention. He has to stop.

“It’s late,” he clears his throat. “And I shouldn’t keep you. Tomorrow morning, we can have breakfast with people and I won’t keep you locked up in here.”

Standing, she watches Bucky uncomfortably collect and arrange his coat. It was foolish to think an incredibly attractive Avenger was into her. This was all just a kind gesture, and she worries a little that she has changed the course of their short turn in this building.

“I’m sorry— will you still let us come to the pool? Logan really wanted to go.” She nervously looks his way when he stays at the door. She’s waiting for the fallout, the inevitable argument where she ends up begging forgiveness. The part where he tells her how foolish she is and how people don’t really like having her around.

This is nothing more than charity.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I… I assumed… and I have been taking up so much of your time. And I’m intruding on a holiday, practically begging for help with my son. And I think I’ve offended you.” She internalized everything from the past two days. Atticus always told her how much work she was, and how people didn’t actually enjoy her being around so much as tolerate it.

“Look, I’m not great with all this. At least, I haven’t been in a long time. And I didn’t invite you two so I could try to make any moves. But I am really enjoying  you both. And I don’t want to hear another ‘sorry’ for the rest of your visit. Alright?”

Both of them have taken a baby step, just now. Neither know how to follow up.

She nods, a little out to sea. Bucky places one hand on her upper arm, lips meeting the crown of her hair. It’s sweet, and reassures her that she hasn’t messed it all up. It feels like a small piece of progress for him, too.

“Good night,” he whispers as he opens her door and departs.

“So, you let her out of your sight?”

Bucky groans at Sam’s tone.

This morning, Sam caught him stocking a box with muffins, pancakes, waffles, and a coffee pot. He had to sheepishly admit it was all for the woman and her son, in case they didn’t want to eat in the common space. Steve had known better— Bucky was hoping for an invitation inside.

She had asked him in, and Bucky watched as Logan ate his food methodically. It was actually endearing the way he specifically prepared and cut his food, then ate it in order. He enjoyed watching their system and imagining how breakfast was for them each morning, so comfortable.

Bucky never relaxed when he was around others. He always felt like he may do the wrong thing, say the wrong thing, use the wrong tone, or disrupt others’ social time. Imagining something domestic made his insides twist in a funny way.

Part of him felt hopeful and a bit excited to think of a life where he would wake up, knowing someone he loved was there. Like these two, he would know how they liked their food and what they appreciated most. It also makes him feel sick, like he has to accept that life isn’t for him. It’s a fantasy.

“She has an interview.”

“Where’s the kid?”

“I helped her get him in at the children centre. He found Cass, and I’m gonna pick her up so she doesn’t have to worry about parking.” Bucky knows it doesn’t actually make sense that he drove her. But he had wanted some time.

“Yeah? And you’re gonna pick her up, and finally introduce her to everyone?” Sam raises a brow.

“Uh, she can introduce herself, can’t she?”

“Might make them feel a little more welcome if you don’t abandon her to a bunch of strangers. Especially a bunch of strangers who are busy with their own families.”

Bucky huffs, nodding in agreement. She wanted to go to the dinner tonight, and have Logan play with the kids at the pool, soon. She would need to know somebody to do all that.

Sam gets a notification on his wristband. He frowns and opens a map.

“Where is her interview?”

“Queens. Why?” Bucky’s pulse jumps.

“Picked up a private radio about her, from her cop husband. Sarah told me to watch out for her, so I had Redwing ping her name if anything came up.”

Bucky’s gone before Sam can explain further. He knows she isn’t his, but he wants to help her. She may not have been hit by her ex, but she is scared of him. That makes him unsure what the man will do to keep her, knowing he would never see court if he abused his power.

It’s the fastest he has driven someone else’s car. He tries to be safe, but he feels anxious as Sam sends updates. The only thing they know is that her husband had radioed confirming with someone else about her location for her interview.

It doesn’t take long to spot who was surveilling the shop she was interviewing in. They parked boldly across the street, with a plain view of the doors. Whoever it was wasn’t afraid to be spotted.

Bucky checks it over. Unmarked car, tinted windows, and he recognizes the shape of a radio on the dash when someone casually flicks a cigarette out the window. It disturbs him how flippant someone can be while stalking their ex and intimidating them.

Bucky goes in to the coffee shop, checking to see if anyone is inside who may have access to her. He’s good at remaining undetected when he wants, but if he needs to be noticed, he’s ready. All he can see is her, tucked into a corner seat, speaking with someone. No one seems to be focused on her, that he can see.

Good. He can just wait for her, and say he came back early.

When he steps outside, a man follows him stride for stride toward the car. Her car, which must have tipped the man off that he was with her.

Deciding the best choice is to say nothing, Bucky pulls out one of the bags of jerky he had intended to share on the ride home. He calmly and confidently steps past the man, who scowls in a way Bucky is sure he thinks is intimidating.

Sitting on the hood, Bucky studies the wristband that’s receiving updates from Sam. He reads all the details, cataloguing every expression and movement from this man all the while.

“You waitin’ for someone?” The man asks lowly.

“Are you?” Bucky knows that voice. It usually speaks in Russian. He doesn’t like feeling like the Soldat, but he does like knowing there’s nothing this guy can do to scare him off.

“Look, buddy. I know whose car you’re drivin’. And I know who she’s married to. If you think you’re gonna take her home, you’re mistaken.” He flashes a badge, as if Bucky will be spooked off. “If I were you, I’d get outta Dodge before he tells you to.”

Standing fully, Bucky steps into the guys personal space. All he does is keep fierce eye contact, assessing just how cocky this officer thinks he is. Not Atticus, then, but someone willing to help within the system.

“Sounds to me like the lady made a choice to leave. Maybe whoever your friend is could use a refresher on boundaries.”

“I wouldn’t test him, if I were you. Guy’s got most of this city in his pocket. Best just leave the girl to go back where she belongs, or people tend to get hurt.” He does his best impression of someone intimidating.

Bucky shrugs and half-smirks. He turns to go meet her at the door, just in case, when the guy scruffs him. It’s just his jacket, but Bucky is jolted back and pushed to face the man, who is clearly trying to scare him off.

The wrist clinging to Bucky’s coat is clenched, in turn, by a metal hand. The force is just enough to make the man whimper, before Bucky frees the fingers from his fabric.

“If anyone’s gonna be trying to scare her back, just know I’ll be around. You’ll need to be a lot more than a bully with a pistol, if anybody decides to chase her down. And don’t bother tailing us, unless you want to deal with a lot more than myself.”

“You have no idea what you’re getting into!” He shouts as Bucky watches him rub his painful wrist. Bucky passes him a card for Sword, with his contact information. It has the Avengers symbol as well.

She appears at the curb, and Bucky dismisses the man. She stares with a pale face as the car drives off.

“What happened?” She whispers when inside of the car.

“When we get back to the compound, we will have someone remove any taps on your phone and anything that might be traced will be scanned.” He tries not to sound too sharp with her. Just because he’s in a mood with the people who are harassing her doesn’t mean she won’t internalize it.

For a while, it’s quiet.

“I never meant to bother you with them. I— I think the interview went well. I can probably start for the holidays and find a place right away or get a motel or something, you don’t have to keep me at the Compound.” She acts like he is going to lose it on her.

Bucky looks over, unsure what he can say that would assuage such fears. He rolls his shoulders, sinking into the seat a little. She instinctively reaches to pluck invisible hairs and threads from her clothes, but he slowly extends a hand to settle over hers. No need to stress.

She exhales, seeming to understand the gesture. Her features warm and she squeezes his hand, thankful she’s in the car with someone who doesn’t make her feel unwanted.

“I feel like I know more about you, than you do about me. Where did you grow up?”

“1940’s Brooklyn,” he laughs. Really laughs. It feels good, like all the remnants of the Soldier disappear when it vibrates through his flesh.

“Oh, right! I completely forgot, I’m sorry. Was it weird? How did you adjust?” She is trying to pull him from his mood. She’s used to managing everyone’s emotions, making it her fault if anyone around her is remotely unhappy. It’s made it easier to anticipate Logan’s needs, but it can be exhausting.

“Steve was the one who popped up 70 years later. He got the most culture shock. I sort of got to know things as they came along…” he drifts and she remembers his story a bit better. “I felt the biggest change going to Wakanda.”

She shoots her eyebrows up. She didn’t know that part, but she’s fascinated that he has entered her life. When he inevitably disappears, deciding that he has had enough of her, she will miss him. It’s not hard to predict.

He tells her a little about his childhood, and a little about Wakanda. She tells him about growing up in Vermont, and tries to avoid any discussion of her ex. Eventually the conversation melts into what to expect at dinner. He shares good conversation topics and key people, and she gives notes on how to help Logan or notice if he starts getting overwhelmed.

By dinner, Bucky is anxiously preparing for the teasing and the questions and the insistence that he not be rude. Of course, every person has such different expectations these days, there are no set rules on what is rude. So he just thinks himself in circles.

Logan races to Cass and it seems like nothing Bucky does matters at all, any more. This kid is so joyful about every detail of the Compound that he realizes the formalities are frivolous. Logan asks about the decorations, listing off all sorts of random knowledge about Christmas in different countries.

“Hi!” Sarah finds Cass and AJ.

“Hello. You must be Sarah, Cass’ mother? Your son has been so wonderful to Logan. You have raised a wonderful boy.” She kindly compliments Sarah.

“Well, my boys know good people. So I’m sure Logan is a great kid, and I can’t wait to get to know him. Would you like to sit with us, to get through all this craziness?” Sarah laughs and holds AJ’s shoulders, who stands happily in front of her.

“Yes! I would love to have a mom friend.” Her demeanour changes entirely when she finds someone to bond with.

Bucky can’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy. He wants to make her feel so at ease. Would she spend all her time with Sarah or Pepper, now? Would it seem strange that he sort of wants to be around her and get to know her son?

He has never attended the Christmases before. Usually, Steve and Sam swing by for an hour or two. But now Sam has his family here, and Steve has a girl at home with a kid on the way. Life moves, even if he doesn’t.

Some people still aren’t overly comfortable with his presence. Peter Parker irks Sam, which puts Tony and Pepper off. Thor visits, which somehow annoys Clint. There are many layers of who gets along and why, but he feels immense guilt and awkwardness even without anyone disliking him.

But with her and her son, he is interested. Suddenly he wants to see the light display, decorate one of the trees, share gifts, or eat a meal in a crowd.

He freezes, unsure how to ask to join. She wants her freedom and to spend time with her son, not to stick with him.

Sarah catches him about to turn away. He watches her expression shift a few times, rapidly, but her final look is very promising.

“I think there’s a guideline that your host should tag along to most events. Want to invite him?” Sarah knows. She knows Bucky secretly hopes for quality time, and doesn’t know how to ask without being an imposition. Hence all the secret favours and gifts.

Sam must have told her after Bucky asked what gifts to get for them. There’s a huge celebration on Christmas Day, where everyone opens gifts, and he doesn’t want her to feel left out. At the same time, she likely can’t afford gifts at the moment. Maybe Sarah will have ideas for him.

“Bucky, I just didn’t want to drag you along if you didn’t want. But if you are game, I could use the company. You’ve been amazing to us.” She has a sparkle in her eye when she looks his way, shyly observing his reaction.

At first, he looks to Sam like he is in charge. Sam raises his hands, shaking his head. Bucky’s got to make his own decisions. If he makes a friend, or even better, they know it has to be on his own accord. The second they encourage him too much, he will spook.

“It’s probably good for me to get out more.” Bucky barely finds the words. He doesn’t want to seem too eager, or make her think he expects anything in exchange for helping her. But he also doesn’t want to seem reluctant, because he hopes she invites him everywhere.

“Is that a yes?” Sarah asks for her. Everyone seems to be waiting on his official answer.