Still, he resigned himself to soft looks, doing his best to make sure Bucky knew he was loved and appreciated and most definitely not allowed to leave in any real form. Once his show was over, he’d pushed up from his bed with every intent to do just that before looking for himself a snack. It was mostly an easy task when it came to finding Bucky around the house.
Of course, Steve knew about the mistletoe. It was the kind of thing going around on the network and in town. Steve felt particularly blessed to not have found himself stuck yet. Though, that was a double edged sword it would seem. He didn’t have to kiss anyone, but it also meant there wasn’t any excuse for Steve to kiss the person he thought about doing so daily even without the mistletoe. So, finding Bucky standing in the doorway was a little surprising at first.
Of course, it was relatively fast that the scenario clicked into place, even before Bucky said anything. If there was ever a chance, this was it. “Even in houses? It didn’t do that last year.” Or maybe it did, and Steve just didn’t know. He’d been fairly lucky the year before, too. He shouldn’t have been excited, but, Steve was a man of action. Maybe running blindly into this and hoping for the best wasn’t the most intelligent choice. Then again, people didn’t exactly ever call him smart. Brave. Reckless. Sure. He definitely wasn’t the smart one.
“Yeah. I mean no.” He breathed out, fumbling, but moving before he’s even finished to step closer to Bucky. It’s in his mind to move slow, to not rush so much that Bucky can’t laugh and give him a shove and say how he needs Steve to get Natasha before he’s stuck too and they’re both left staring at each other and at least one of them feeling miserable about it. It’s just a kiss, and even while he searches those eyes for something. Something there. Something he couldn’t decipher. Something that didn’t matter in light of the sudden need to get all up in Bucky’s space and kiss him.
And really, that was all he did. After a quick smile, Steve lifted a hand, fingertips just grazing Bucky’s jaw as he leaned in, slow enough to catch a breath before completely closing the distance between their lips and somehow managing to not bump heads with him. Minor victories in war. Yet, almost as soon as the contact happens, Steve begins to doubt, and suddenly all too aware of how limited his experience with this was. Bucky was always a prize, and anyone would be lucky to be on his arm, but Steve? Well, he barely thought about any of that in his hundred or so years of being alive, sleep counting. So, when he pulled back, mournfully, he let out a soft breath, eyes opening slowly and lingering close, just in case, or maybe just so Bucky could make a shove at him.