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There were bits of flurry floating in the air, slowly drifting their way to the ground. Considering how little snow they’d been getting, the news was calling it a Christmas miracle that they would have a white Christmas this year.
(Bucky never put much stock in miracles, even though Steve seemed to think it was a miracle that Bucky was still alive. Miracles were what people believed in when they had nothing else going for them. Bucky had seen too much to still be that naive.)
“Bucky?” The tentative call of his name woke Bucky from the little reverie he was having. He gave no sign of having heard Steve, but Steve came and sat down next to him anyway. “You wanna come inside? It’s cold out here, and Natasha and Sam just got here.”
Bucky shrugged. It was windy on the patio of Barton and Coulson’s house, but he didn’t really feel the cold. The freezer he was kept in was much colder than this; he’d gotten used to it.
He’d been sitting out there since they arrived, not quite ready to go in just yet, but he let Steve pull him up and bring him inside now because it would make Steve happy.
There were a lot of things Bucky did now because they made Steve happy.
He didn’t know what to make of that.
It’s been six months since he found himself standing in front of Steve’s place in Brooklyn, feeling lost and disoriented and having no idea how he got there. He had been only vaguely aware that the place was somewhere he had to be. It had taken only a few minutes for Falcon to land right next to him, and Steve to stumble out the front door, looking halfway between shocked and joyful.
He’d let himself be led up the stairs into Steve’s apartment, had gone through the motions of getting himself cleaned and dressed in Steve’s clothes, and allowed himself to be fed by the men he’d try to kill on the helicarriers.
Bucky couldn’t understand, at the time, why they were nice to him. Every time Bucky had asked just made him more confused because Steve would look at him with those sad, earnest eyes, like someone had just kicked his puppy. Bucky got the sense that Steve was sad for him, but he still couldn’t understand why.
He felt like he should, but he didn’t.
The memories came back in bits and pieces. Some days were good, and he felt a little bit more like Bucky Barnes than the Asset. The bad days they didn’t talk about.
(Mostly it involved Bucky jumping at every little thing, seeing threats in every shadow and around every corner, which kept Steve on high alert to stop Bucky from hurting himself or anyone around them.)
Having Falcon—“Call me Sam”—around helped. About three months in, Steve stopped treating Bucky like he was made of glass and might break if he so much as breathed on him. Bucky was grateful; he didn’t need kid gloves.
It took six months, but the bad days were becoming less and less, to the point where Bucky felt like himself most days. Not the Sergeant James Barnes who fell off the train, not the Asset who didn’t question orders, just… himself.
Bucky could live with that.
The alcove just inside the back door was uncomfortably warm. Bucky could feel the skin around his metal arm tingle with the sensation of cold metal and warm air.
Further inside the house, however, was just the right temperature, and he could hear the sounds of people coming from the living room, laughing and yelling. Happy.
“Barnes! ‘Bout time you showed your face.” Barton jumped up from where he was sitting next to Coulson, stumbled over Romanoff’s legs to reach Bucky, giving him only a few seconds’ warning before pulling him into a bear hug. “Merry Christmas, buddy!”
Bucky rolled his eyes before peeling the archer off of him. Barton had been the one person his training didn’t instinctively perceive as threat; Bucky didn’t know what to make of that either. Steve had introduced him to the rest of the team two months in. It had been a bit rocky at first, what with everyone not quite comfortable the fact that the Winter Soldier was sitting right there, but they’d gotten over it. If hard pressed, Bucky would even go so far as to say that he didn’t mind being around these loud, crazy people.
Bucky eyed the glass of milky-white drink in Barton’s hand. “I see you already broke out the booze.”
“It’s eggnog. It’s tradition!” Barton grinned as he settled back down in his seat and snuggled up against Coulson. Coulson just looked at him indulgently, wrapping an arm around the archer’s shoulders. “Come on. We’re supposed to be catching you guys up on what modern Christmas is all about!”
Bucky snorted, even if Steve was positively beaming at the thought of showing him what Christmas was all about in the twenty-first century. “You mean besides the craziness that’s going on out there in the shops right now?”
Steve had tried to get Bucky to go shopping for gifts. It didn’t go so well and they ended up ordering everything online.
“You just haven’t been to the mall with the right people, Barnes.” Barton waved at Bucky dismissively. “Next year, Nat and I are taking you Black Friday shopping.”
Bucky didn’t miss the glint in Romanoff’s eyes. He had to suppress an involuntary shiver, but he wasn’t sure if it was at the idea of going anywhere with the Black Widow or just shopping in general.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Sam piped up from where the doorway to the kitchen, holding a big bowl of popcorn. “And you promised you’re going to make hot chocolate.”
“Nonsense. Barnes will be fine. The soccer moms during Black Friday are much more vicious than the Winter Soldier. Have you seen Youtube? He’s coming as back-up.”
“That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. Coulson, talk some sense into your boyfriend, will ya?” Sam shook his head. “And I want hot chocolate. With marshmallows. Chop chop!”
“Fine.” Barton rolled his eyes before getting off the couch again and head into the kitchen. “Pick anything to start with, except for Charlie Brown. I will make all of you watch it again if you watch it without me.”
“So this is what you guys do in the future? Sit around and watch movies on Christmas Eve?” Bucky asked dubiously, eyeing Steve who just looked overjoyed that everyone was together for Christmas. Except Stark and Banner, who apparently fucked off to Malibu for a “conference”, and Thor, who was back on Asgard.
“Well, there are many ways people celebrate. Some families have Christmas Eve dinners, but not everyone follows tradition,” Coulson explained. “Some don’t celebrate Christmas at all. Clint and I used to go to my mom’s place until she passed. We don’t celebrate much on our own. Usually it was just quiet nights at home if we weren’t on a mission. Natasha joins us if she’s around.”
“I’m just glad that we’re all together,” Steve said as he settled back against the couch cushion, extending one long arm to wrap around Bucky’s shoulders like it was the most natural thing. He looked at Bucky, and Bucky could read the unspoken “I’m glad you’re here with me” in his eyes clear as day.
Bucky didn’t mind, but he couldn’t help teasing Steve. “Sap.”
“Phil, food’s gonna get here in an hour. Come give me a hand with the hot chocolate?” Barton called from the kitchen.
“Duty calls,” Coulson said as he stood, and Bucky tracked him to the entrance of the kitchen, where he was promptly pushed against the wall by Barton, who pointed up at the archway where a sprig of mistletoe hung. Coulson chuckled before pulling Barton into a kiss.
They looked happy, the way they murmured to each other quietly as they moved around the kitchen, Bucky decided. Steve wouldn’t tell him exactly what had happened to Coulson and Barton before SHIELD fell. Whatever it was, Bucky was glad they still had each other.
He turned back with a soft cough, avoiding the searching look Steve kept giving him. “So. What are we watching first?”
“I thought we should start with Elf, since somebody wouldn’t let us watch Charlie Brown without him,” Sam said.
“As long as it’s not Rudolph,” Romanoff said. “I have issues with Rudolph.”
“How could you possibly have issues with Rudolph?” Sam sounded offended, and they ended up in a debate that Bucky lost track of in favour of the ridiculousness on the TV screen.
It was much, much later, after the greasy Chinese food, A Charlie Brown Christmas, too much chocolate, dancing to jazzy tunes and tracking Santa Claus on NORAD, that Bucky found himself settling into Barton and Coulson’s guest bed with the promise of presents in the morning.
There in the dark, with Steve snoring softly, cuddling against him, Bucky felt a sense of peace he was sure he hadn’t felt since he’d been that kid who grew up in Brooklyn.
A sense of belonging, of home.
Maybe there were Christmas miracles after all.