Who: Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers What: mistletoe strikes again When: Week of Christmas Where: Limesville, shared house Rating: PG/PG-13? IDK how you rate two idiots kissing Status: incomplete, in progress
Bucky was glad he was done with any Christmas shopping that needed to be done. Besides the whole crowds were still not always his favorite thing, he was kind of over the cold weather and threatening snow at this point. He supposed it was kind of easy to be when he had a nice, warm house to stay in — it made it hard to leave when he didn't need to run errands for his ma or get to one odd job to another or home and back during lunch to totally-not-check-on a sick Steve. Bucky was well aware just how damn lucky he was now, Winter Soldier aside. There were many things he simply didn't have to worry about anymore, and all the usual holiday season talk about gratitude and togetherness hit a little different.
Not that his life before the war had been all bad. He'd always had his family — they'd been seven people in a house that was a little too small for all of them, but they'd always managed to make it work. Hell, they always managed to squeeze in Steve and Sarah Rogers, too, as often as they could, for any special occasion they could come up with. There might not have been a questionable number of lights outside or giant inflatable Santas or the same level of commercialization that seemed to exist now, but they'd all been together. It had been a huge, chaotic mess at times, but it had been his huge, chaotic mess, something he belonged to.
Looking back, that was what mattered most — and what he missed the most. Thinking about his family wasn't something he'd done too much of, because it was hard. There hadn't been any final goodbyes, any way to tie up loose ends there. How could there have been? MIA in Italy, saved by Steve, then the train. The Winter Soldier. Wakanda. Thanos. Maybe after Thanos he could have gone looking for his sisters' kids' families, but he'd ended up in Winterdale instead. And who knew if they even would have wanted anything to do with him? The Bucky Barnes from the 40s, the one he saw in pictures in museums, didn't really exist anymore.
He was still him, of course. He'd worked hard to pull himself out of the thing HYDRA had turned him into, but he knew there were parts he'd never recover, or that would never fit back quite right again, if they fit at all. He'd accepted that, and while Bucky couldn't exactly say he'd moved on entirely, he was getting there. He even kind of liked himself again, which was probably the biggest win of all. It helped that Natasha and Sam seemed to like him, too, when both of them had very good reasons not to.
And then there was Steve.
Bucky honestly didn't even know what to do about Steve anymore. It was ridiculous. It was stupid. He'd had feelings for him for so long he couldn't even really recall when he'd first realized it, just that at some point between high school and moving in with him in that awful, tiny apartment in Brooklyn, he'd fallen in love. It had been one of the first things he'd truly remembered after HYDRA, and living with him for the past few months without having to worry about being on the run from various world governments or potentially world-ending threats had made it clear those feelings weren't likely to ever go away.
He could do or say something about it. He should, if for no other reason than to be completely honest with Steve — after so long, he kind of owed it to him. But then there were times when he thought he saw something on Steve's face, or they'd be close and it felt like they were seconds away from something, and Bucky would lose his nerve. Like the dance lessons. That would have been a good time to say something, when a large part of why Bucky had suggested them in the first place — had asked Steve to dance in the first place — was so far from platonic that he was honestly surprised Steve hadn't seen through it as the excuse to get close that it was.
Or, well. Maybe not. Steve always had been kind of oblivious when it came to people being interested in him.
Bucky wasn't, though. Usually, anyway. He sighed as he made his way to the living room, fully intent on settling down with a book, or finding something on TV to distract himself from circling thoughts of am I picking something up, or is it just wishful thinking? about Steve. It didn't do him any good to fret over it when he couldn't pull together enough courage to bring it up with Steve himself, and he didn't want anyone to come across him scowling at himself and think something was wrong. A book was probably a good plan. He was pretty sure the most recent ridiculous fantasy novel he'd picked up was still on the coffee table, and —
He froze in the doorway. Or, he was frozen in the doorway, and couldn't take a step forward or back, could only really turn in a circle, frustrated, and lean against the frame as what was going on caught up with him. He'd seen people stuck while out running errands, and sure enough. He glanced up to see mistletoe, and debated what to do. His mind immediately jumped to Steve, because ever since he'd heard about the mistletoe, he'd sort of guiltily hoped this would happen. It'd been stupid and romantic in his head, but when faced with it, he couldn't say if he hoped Steve was the only person around or if he'd need Nat or Sam to rescue him.
Someone approaching solved the problem for him, and he turned to come face to face with Steve. Well. He could hardly tell him to go get one of the others to kiss, not without it being weird. Or weirder. Bucky ran a hand through his hair — he'd been meaning to cut it, but hadn't gotten to it yet — and offered Steve a smile that he told himself was anything but a little shy.
"Looks like some mistletoe got in," he explained, and it was stupid how nervous he was. Steve would kiss him. It'd be quick, and friendly, and then Bucky would never hear the end of it as he was teased about it for the rest of his life. "Mind giving me a hand?" Bucky tried to sound casual and exasperated — amused — but it came out softer, more questioning and wistful than anything else.