Chapter Text
“Wait, Steve, what are you doing!” Bucky called, running down the hall to catch up with his boyfriend.
Steve paused at the elevator, a confused wrinkle forming in his brow. “I’m just taking the trash down, Buck. You okay?”
Bucky came skidding to a full stop, frantically grabbing the crate out of Steve’s arms, dumping the trash bag that had been inside on to the ground. “Yeah I just- well, I kinda wanted to keep this.”
Now that he had the box, Bucky felt a little silly about the whole thing. It had been two days since they had visited the pumpkin patch and in that time, Bucky had gotten to like having the old crate sitting around. Steve’s frown softened in the way it always did whenever Bucky expressed his desire for something. It was a little annoying, having Steve get so excited that he had basic wants but Bucky understood. He had gone so long without the desire for anything that occasionally he also got a little overwhelmed.
“Sure Buck, but did you have to dump the trash all over the ground?”
Bucky felt his cheeks flush as he ran his metal hand against the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry Stevie,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, sure you are,” Steve’s mocking tone was gentle as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips before bending down to grab the bags. The elevator dinged and Steve was gone, leaving Bucky to head back to their Avenger’s Tower penthouse alone.
They had decided to go all out this year on decorations for fall. A festive wreath hung on their door and pumpkins they had just finished carving were perched out front, while their less successful first attempts were hidden away on their balcony. Bucky’s new prized possession, his large, misshapen, lumpy pumpkin sat on the coffee table in the middle of their living room, making him smile whenever he walked by. It was going to be a sad day when it was time to throw the gourd out.
Bucky placed the crate down next to the large gourd and went to grab Steve’s laptop. He’d heard Bruce mention something called ‘up-cycling’ that was apparently very big with people in the twenty-first century.
XXXX
“So what’d you want this old thing for anyways?” Steve asked when he returned, settling down on the couch to look over Bucky’s shoulder.
“I think I’m gonna turn it in to a side-table, we could put a lamp on it or something.” He was scrolling through something called ‘Pinterest’. Modern people really liked to do crafty things with their trash and then show the rest of the world, it was a little ridiculous.
“You know we could also just go buy a table,” Steve said, resting his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. “We’ve each got over seventy years of Army pension saved up.”
Bucky looked up at the crate with a sad smile. “I know I just, I don’t know, I really like this crate.” It was going to sound so stupid trying to say it out loud, but he needed Steve to understand.
Steve nodded gently, like he was trying really hard to understand what Bucky was trying convey to him but coming up short every time. It had always been easier for him, he had grown in to the body he had always felt like he needed. Bucky had been forced in to this new body, dragged kicking and screaming from his old form and turned in to a broken machine. Now here he was, sitting on a couch in the twenty-first century, wrapped in Steve’s arms, getting overly attached to a box.
“It’s just- I know it doesn’t look like much but we found it together. Yeah, it’s kind of old and beat up, and it’s little and broken but it’s still good. Yeah, still good.”
Steve turned on the couch, a gentle finger turning Bucky’s head until he was staring in to those bottomless blue eyes. The deep crease in his brow was back and Steve looked like he was doing his best to hold back a tear. It had been hard on him to watch his best friend and lover try to pick up the pieces of who he used to be and put together something new.
“I’m never letting you watch a Disney movie again,” Steve whispered.
Bucky couldn’t help the snort of hysterical laughter he let out, leaning forward to rest against Steve’s forehead. That is why he loved this little punk; he never let Bucky get away with any of his shit.
“But Steve, ohana means family.” Bucky let his face fall in to his best kicked puppy pout, and damn if his lower lip didn’t quiver as well.
“You’re a menace Bucky Barnes,” Steve grumbled, unable to resist leaning in to suck on that pouty lip.