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“I think I need to change my dating profile,” Bucky says one slow night at the shop.
He’s just finished carving a personalized dreidel for one family, a nativity scene where every figure is a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel for another. Funnily enough, it’s never the holiday season where Bucky gets to make the things that he likes the most, the intricate dollhouses or experimental block sets that he can spend time on during the summer. Now, as the holidays approach, he’s stuck with the basics to stock the store and the specific special orders.
“Why’s that?” Sam asks from his spot behind the counter.
“People keep asking if I make dildos,” he says, then looks up to see a tall blond man looking at him with a furrowed brow. Cheeks burning, Bucky says, “Hi, welcome to The Toy Box. Can we help you with anything?”
“Am I in the right place?” the guy asks. “I’m looking for children’s toys.”
“Ah, I get it now,” Sam says, laughing.
“We specialize in children’s toys,” Bucky says, then quickly adds, “We only make children’s toys. What kind of toy are you looking for?”
“Actually, I’m looking for the owner. Bucky Barnes?” He takes off his gloves and stuffs them in his coat pocket. His nose is red from the cold.
“That’s me.”
“Oh!” He perks up, walking forward. “I know it’s a little late, but I was wondering if you had any openings for special orders?”
Bucky deflates, ready to tell him that he really doesn’t have any openings, but there are plenty of things in the store that are great, and he can always paint someone’s name onto something for an extra five bucks.
“Before you can tell me no, can you hear me out?” the guy asks.
“Sure.” Bucky has nothing to lose here.
“I’m Steve,” he says, to start. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
Steve pulls out his phone and shows him the background. There’s two kids mugging for the camera with big eyes and dirty elbows. “These are my god kids, Wanda and Pietro. Well, I guess they’re my kids now,” he says, pulling the phone back and taking a long glance at it before putting it back in his pocket. “Their parents died last week and I have full custody.” Bucky feels Sam straighten up next to him. “Anyhow, it’ll be my first time celebrating Hanukkah and it’ll be their first Hanukkah without their parents. I want to do something where the three of us each get a piece each one of the eight nights so that we can build something together.” He exhales. “I know it’s late, and it’s a large order, but I…” His voice cracks. “I need help.”
If his voice hadn’t cracked, maybe Bucky wouldn’t have agreed. But between that red nose and hopeful eyes, Bucky couldn’t say no.
“Let’s talk about what you were thinking,” Bucky says with a smile.
— —
He stays late at the shop, sharing photos of the project with Steve, getting excited texts back. It’s natural that their conversation would start getting a little personal, that Steve would send Bucky some photos of the twins, that Bucky would send Steve photos of the shop cat sleeping on top of their project.
Bucky’s dating apps go unopened for a long time.
— —
“It’s beautiful,” Steve says, wide-eyed as he looks at the city in front of him. It’s a New York City street. There are apartments that can be opened to show families and friends of all shapes, sizes, and colors. There’s a restaurant with small pots and pans and foods for Pietro, who wants to be a chef. There’s a library, with small editions of books that Bucky ordered special online for Wanda, who wants to be a writer. It’s huge and intricate, one of the hardest things Bucky’s ever made. He watches Steve reach out for the three figures at the front: Wanda, Pietro, and Steve himself, all made from wood with love. Bucky bites down on his bottom lip as Steve gently touches the figures. “I can’t even believe you did this,” he says in a quiet voice.
“I wanted you to see it all put together before I pack it up and wrap it,” Bucky says.
“Thank you, it’s…” He shakes his head. “I don’t even have words, Bucky.”
“Here,” Bucky says, taking the Steve figure from Steve and holding it up. “Thank you Bucky,” he says in a falsetto as he shakes the figure like it’s talking. “You’re the best, Bucky.”
Steve laughs, takes a step closer to Bucky. The toy shop is warm and snow falls gently outside. He plucks the figure from Bucky’s hand. “Thanks Bucky,” he says in a soft, low voice. “You’re the best,” he adds before wrapping his arm around Bucky’s waist and pulling him in for a slow, lingering kiss.