Thank God It's Christmas

Just over a week before Christmas, the spirit of the season is high, but even with the extra Christmas cheer in the air Steve still doesn't believe that things could ever happen between Bucky and him, that Bucky could ever love him, that his best friend, his flatmate, could ever want to be more than that. Nat and Sam both think Steve should say something, and as Christmas gets closer and closer Steve is unsure whether not knowing is better than knowing.... The buildup to Christmas.

Notes:

Merry Christmas!
This fic may start off a little slow, but it does build.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Steve loves the city like this. He absolutely adores the cold weather, although he never used to. He used to despise almost everything about the winter months, he hated how the ground would be slippery and wet, he hated how the roof would leak and the windows wouldn’t be able to keep the rain at bay, he hated that he could never get warm, he hated how he was incapacitated, lying in bed, coughing up a lung and blowing his nose time and time again. But he always loved the snow, before it got gross, he loved it when it was whirling past his window, he loved when it was fresh on the ground, he loved when Bucky would pile on every piece of clothing he could find and drag him outside, how they would make a snowman and Bucky would narrate and roll the snow up while Steve gave orders.

He loved how they would lie in the snow side by side making snow angels and giggling and always forgetting how they would be soaked soon, but they didn’t care, those few seconds were worth it, how they would have a snowball fight if Steve was feeling up to it, and Bucky wouldn’t hit him hard at first, he would go easy on him right up until the point where Steve hit him in the face with a snowball bigger than his hand, and Bucky would mutter, “Oh now it’s on.”

He loved how Bucky would take an empty cardboard box and drag Steve up to the hill and they would sled down together, and when Steve got too tired, Bucky would pull him up the hill and ignore all of Steve’s moaning and complaining about how he was perfectly capable to walk up the hill by himself. Steve loved the snow. Steve also loved how when he got really sick in the winter and his mum was working late, Bucky would curl up beside him, his arm wrapped around his waist, holding Steve’s slender body as close to his as he physically could, trying to keep him safe and warm the only way he knew how.

That was years ago now, and now without the sick body that weighed 90 pounds soaking wet, now that he had a job that paid well, he had all the best bits of winter and none of the bad. He wouldn’t get sick now, he didn’t get sick now, he was tall and broad and strong, and he lived in an apartment that had windows and walls that kept out the rain, kept the cold at bay. But with warmth of his own, he had no need for Bucky’s body curled beside him now, only want.

Over a week before Christmas left and Steve is too often stuck in his head, too often fantasying about Bucky, too often wishing that he either wasn’t in love with his best friend or that his best friend could love him back, but neither seem to be happening anytime soon, so instead he lies alone in bed, listening to Bucky sing to himself as he gets ready to go out for his morning run. He smiles and rolls over, letting his eyes flutter shut as Bucky continues to sing, unaware of his audience, unaware that he is singing Steve to sleep, and as Steve teeters between awake and unconscious he finds himself wondering what it would be like to wake up with Bucky beside him, not like he used to, but with Bucky smiling and kissing him good morning…

It is almost nine o’clock when there is a knock on the door. His bed is warm and comforting, and he has no intention of getting up for another half hour at least, but as another sharp knock hits the front door, Steve groans and rolls out of bed. Bucky must still be out, Steve thinks, it’s not his knock so he didn’t forget his keys and he would have answered the door already if he was home. Grabbing his jumper off the couch on his way to the door, he unlocks the door and doesn’t even bother running his hand through his hair, he just opens the door, wishing he was still in bed.

Before the door is even fully open, Nat is grinning as she steps inside and asks, “Did you just wake up?”

“What does it look like?” Steve replies, shutting the door behind her as he pulls on his jumper and locks the door. Nat laughs, and makes herself at home, taking off her shoes, dumping her bags and climbing onto one of the stools tucked under the island in the kitchen.

They talk amicably, Nat telling Steve about her last two days at work while Steve pours himself a bowl of cereal and only minimally complaining about being woken far earlier than he had intended. He knows nine isn’t late, but he was catching up on some desperately needed sleep and he is still a little less than pleased. He is half way through his second bowl of cereal when Nat brings it up, just like he knew she would, the way she kept tapping her fingers against the bench for the last few minutes gave her away. This close to Christmas, Steve’s surprised she’s waited this long.

“So Bucky…” Nat starts, trailing off as she looks up at Steve. Steve doesn’t even fight the sigh that rises up his throat and he rolls his eyes. “You ever going to tell him?” Nat finishes, knowing exactly the answer she will get, but she asks anyway.

"Sometimes not knowing is better than knowing." Steve argues, trying to get Nat to see that he cannot tell Bucky. Nat doesn’t bug him about this, she doesn’t, but every few weeks one of them brings it up and she is insistent that he should tell Bucky how he feels, and Steve cannot see why. No good can come of telling Bucky, no good can come of it, not realistically at least, he hopes, god, he wishes that Bucky feels the same way, but he knows he won’t, that he can’t.

"Why?" Nat questions.

There is no new way to explain this to her, he knows what she thinks about this, and she knows what he thinks, but she still insists of partaking in this conversation every so often, much to Steve’s agitation, not that he doesn’t bring it up on his own of course. He does so quite often, especially when he’s drunk or Bucky is out on a date. Trying to put this differently, Steve takes another mouthful of cereal before he answers, "Because if I don't tell him, I won't know, so he can be simultaneously in love with me and have no romantic feelings for me at all, either is possible, but once I know, then that won't be possible."

"You ever consider the possibility that maybe he does love you?"

Steve knows she means will, but the certainty in her tone is not helping. It’s making him more hopeful, which will not end well, for him at least. It will just push him into actually believing Bucky could love him the way he does him, and so when reality hits a few hours later, he hurts all the more.

"Yes, course, but that won't happen." Steve says a little more pitifully that he intended.

"Why?" Nat demands.

"Because it just won't okay Nat! It just won't." Steve exclaims, his spoon clattering against his bowl as he drops it and takes a step backwards. The island separates him and Nat, but the distance doesn’t make her gaze any less piercing, it doesn’t make her any easier to ignore. God, Steve wishes that it wasn’t like this, he wishes that Nat could be right, but she isn’t, he knows she isn’t.

Nat insists, "You don't know that."

"No, you don't know that." Steve answers pathetically. He is still waking up, not bothered to make himself a cup of coffee, and he cannot deal with this conversation so earlier in the morning, so soon after waking. He needs to sleep, he cannot deal with this right not. Nat is still staring at him waiting for him to continue so he adds, "We've been friends for years, he is, he, he couldn't possibly want me." He doesn’t mean for his voice to crack, but it does and he sees Nat’s eyes soften and that just makes him feel worse.

"Why can't he want you?" Nat asks softly.

Steve throws his hands up wildly, like the answer is so obvious. "Cause he's just, he's sweet and hilarious and smart and utterly gorgeous and- he just doesn't Nat, you've seen him, you've seen him flirt, if he wanted me, he would tell me, he would make it obvious." Steve is pacing now, no longer standing in the kitchen, but on the other side of the island, in the living room, pacing his hand running though his hair in frustration. Nat swivels her stool around, watching him with increasingly exasperation.

"Or maybe he's just as much as an idiot as you are, and thinks that you couldn't possibly like him either?" Nat answers, and Steve laughs at that, her eyes widening, she had not expected that reaction at all. He didn’t even look hopeful, didn’t even consider the mere notion that Bucky could even, no, he shakes his head and stares at Nat like she is a total imbecile for even thinking it.

"Yeah right, like it's him who's not good enough for me." Steve scoffs.

Nat groans in reply, "Here we go again."

"He doesn't want me Nat! Not like that, he never has, he never will. It's just the way it is." Steve is yelling now, he can’t help it, and he certainly cannot stop himself. Bucky doesn’t, will never, can never want him, he knows it, but with Nat telling him that he has a shot, it is messing with his head, especially before ten o’clock in the morning, before coffee.

"But-" Nat starts, there are footsteps in the hallway approaching the door that neither of them notice.

Steve doesn’t let her finish, and as a key slots into the lock, he almost shouts, "No ‘but’ Natasha, I am not good enough for him." Nat’s mouth falls open, a response on her lips but she hesitates.

"Now that's a downright lie if ever I'd heard one." Bucky’s voice comes from behind Steve and Steve practically jumps right out of his skin, his heart stopping, and he mentally runs over the last few sentences, trying to work out if he gave anything away.

Steve blushes and stares down at bowl of cereal, hoping to god that Bucky hasn't heard much, hasn't clued on to who their conversation was about, clued on to how madly in love with him Steve is. Steve has no idea what to say, and Bucky doesn’t seem to mind the silence as he walks past Steve and Nat, shopping bags in hand.

“We’re not doing secret Santa again this year are we? Cause I totally forgot.” Bucky half yells from his bedroom. Steve hits his head against the counter top and Nat’s composure is cracking as she grins at Steve, and does her best to keep her laughter contained.

“Nope.” Nat answers, her voice shaking, still trying her best not to laugh. Steve glares at her and she smirks. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Bucky walking towards them, so she clears her throat and Steve lifts his head off the counter and tries to gain some level of normalcy.

"Now who aren't you supposedly good enough for?"

"Uhh..." Steve stammers. Bucky is in the kitchen now, making a pot of coffee and grabbing two cups out of the cupboard, while waiting for Steve to reply. Bucky looks over at Steve expectantly, and Nat is grinning wickedly behind Bucky’s back.

"Any gal, or guy, would be lucky to have you Stevie, you're amazing, you know that, you gotta stop letting yourself believe that you are anything less than sensational." Bucky says, and Steve knows he means every damn word, and that only makes this so much harder.

With Bucky saying things like that, while he moves around the kitchen, Steve is pressed for a reason to remember why he shouldn’t tell Bucky, but that only lasts a split second, because then reality hits, and he knows that Bucky would say the same thing to Nat, or Sam, or Clint, and he isn’t saying it because he loves him, not the way Steve wants. Bucky says it so casually, not looking Steve in the eyes the entire time, but not avoiding his gaze either.

Nat has that annoying knowing smile on her lips as she catches Steve’s eyes when Bucky’s back is to her. Steve ignores her and looks back over to Bucky, who turns around as a thought occurs to him. "Shit, I almost forgot-” Bucky starts, heading out of the kitchen without an explanation. He reappears a few seconds later two things in hand, one of which a book and he hands it to Nat as he says, “Here you go, the book as requested my love.”

“Coffee?” Bucky asks the two of them, his eyes meet Steve’s and Steve finds himself nodding. Bucky gives him a warm smile back, which should not have the effect that it does on Steve, especially not after all this time, but he can’t help it, his heart beats a little faster and he ignores the way Nat’s eyebrows raise a little.

"No sugar.” Nat replies, her eyes on the book as she flicks through it, her smile growing as she does so. Not even thinking about it, Steve pulls open the fridge door, and passes the milk to Bucky, who already has an outstretched hand.

He still feels a little on edge from his conversation with Nat, and their little pattern that the two of them fall into is only making Steve’s head spin a little more. They are so used to be around each other, not just fitting around each other but more than that, and that is screwing with his head, because he knows that eventually one of those girls that Bucky goes out on dates with, will want to move in with him and he’ll leave, and then there will be no more familiarity, no more patterns, it will just be Steve, alone, and he cannot even think about that right now. He knows they won’t live together forever, he knows that, but he just doesn’t think about the possibility of them not living together, inevitable as it is, he ignores the topic as best he can.

"Course not, you're sweet enough already.” Bucky smiles sweetly and Nat groans in reply. Coffees made, Bucky hands the milk back to Steve, who accepts it without looking and places it back in the fridge without really thinking about it. Suddenly remembering the other item he brought back from his bedroom, Bucky picks the book up off the bench as he says, “And Steve here's your new sketchbook as promised, sketch away to your hearts content my dear."

Steve knows that Bucky doesn't mean it like that, he just called Nat love for Christ's sake, but that doesn't stop his heart from doing that annoying thing it always manages to do around Bucky Barnes and a stupid grin forms as Bucky drops the sketchpad in front of him. Bucky hands them their coffees, and Steve tries not to let his emotions show on his expression.

"Thanks Buck." Nat grins, looking up from her book as she takes a sip of her scalding hot coffee.

"You didn't have to." Steve finally gets out, he ordered the sketchbook a few days ago, he didn't mean for Bucky to pick it up for him, he could do that himself, yet here is it sitting in front of him on the bench.

“Welcome and I know I didn’t.” Bucky smiles and Steve loves that smile and he smiles back, easy but not relaxed, not yet.

"Stevie you done with the, ‘ain't good enough’ nonsense yet?" Bucky asks, a look of genuine concern on his face as he places both hands on Steve's shoulders and Steve sighs. "It's shit, you know it is, you're brilliant and don't you dare think otherwise, now stop deliberating and worrying and whatever the fuck you are doing, and just go tell them how you feel." Bucky finishes and Steve stays absolutely still. He doesn’t trust his mouth to speak, not now, not yet, and he can feel Nat’s eyes on him, and Bucky is scrutinizing his expression, giving him a warm smile that Steve cannot return, he just can’t. Bucky sighs, holding Steve’s gaze for another few seconds before he releases him, and scoops Steve’s coffee off the bench.

Steve fights to keep the grin off as he faces as he tries and fails to scowl as he says, “Hey, if you wanted one you could have made yourself one.”

“But I only want a little.” Bucky whines, leaning out of Steve’s outstretched arm as he pouts. Nat laughs and Steve ignores her, he knows she will give him shit about this after Bucky leaves, but he’s used to it, and he doesn’t mind, too much.

Steve crosses his arms and Bucky’s bottom lip is obscene as he continues to pout, his blue eyes luring Steve in, and Steve’s voice is a lot quieter than he intends when he asks, “Seriously?”

“Your coffee always tastes better though Stevie.” Bucky’s pout vanishes and he takes a long sip, his eyes still locked on Steve and Steve cannot look away as much as he tries to. His gaze flicks to Bucky’s throat as he swallows, which is a seriously terrible idea, and he regrets it instantly, his eyes flick back up to Bucky’s face, just missing the expression that flashes over his face.

“Stolen coffee just tastes better does it?” Steve asks, his tone a mixture of feigned annoyance and actual amusement. It doesn’t even tick him off a little bit when Bucky steals some of his drink or even his food, he knows it’s ridiculous, he thinks it adorable, especially since Bucky only really does it to him, occasionally to Nat or Clint, and he steals Tony’s food to piss him off but he almost always does it to Steve, and for Steve, it’s almost, couple like, and it makes his heart melt and makes him feel like shit afterwards, but in the moment, he loves it.

Bucky offers him back his cup and their fingers brush as Bucky smirks, “Only yours.”

Taking a step away from Steve, Bucky glances at his watch and Steve tries and fails to hide his disappointment as Bucky says, “I’ll see you kids later, gotta wrap up at work, the holiday starts in a few days and not a moment sooner, should be home while today is still today, but I can’t make any promises.” It isn’t even lunch time and Bucky won’t be home till midnight at least, and Steve takes a sip of his coffee, trying to cover his expression. Despite living together he and Bucky have barely seen each other in the last fortnight, like two ships passing in the night, always just missing each other. Nat and Bucky share a silent look that Steve misses as he takes another sip of his coffee.

Less than two minutes later, Steve’s cup is empty and he has nothing to distract himself with as Bucky heads towards the door, unravelling his headphones as he walks. “We still on for tomorrow Nat?” Bucky asks, his fingers wrapping around the door handle and his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hours of crazy shoppers and Christmas music? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Nat grins at Bucky.

The door shuts behind Bucky and the apartment falls into silence for a few seconds, Nat’s eyes are still on the door and Steve pours himself some more coffee, he knows what it is coming, and he waits. Taking a step back he leans against the kitchen bench as Nat takes a small sip of her coffee, looking Steve up and down as she does so. Waiting another few seconds before she starts, she wants Bucky to be out of ear shot. Steve is still smiling as he adds a dash of milk before taking a sip.

“Could you want him more?” Nat asks, she isn’t even teasing, not really, and Steve sighs, it seems like the only one who doesn’t know that he is in love with Bucky is Bucky himself, or at least so Bucky lets on, but Steve doesn’t even want to consider that possibility.

“Why didn’t you tell him? That was your shot!” Nat starts, setting her coffee cup down on the bench in front of her as she shuffles on her stool and looks up at Steve who shrugs, and doesn’t answer. Nat doesn’t sigh, but she almost does, before she continues, “He was standing right in front of you, looking down at you with so much fucking love in his eyes I was going to throw up at the mushy crap he was saying, his hands were on your fucking shoulders and you just said nothing?”

“God Steve.” Nat mutters with a shake of her head.

“That wasn’t my shot.” Steve says weakly, not convincing anyone, not Nat and definitely not himself. He could have told him, but he couldn’t, not now, not ever.

“That was exactly your shot! It was perfect, and you-”

“I’m going back to bed.” Steve sighs, running his hand over his face as he pointedly ignores the look that Nat shoots him. He knows it could have been his shot, but he can’t tell him. He just… he knows what Nat doesn’t know, that Bucky doesn’t want him like that, he never will. Steve is just... not good enough, especially not enough for Bucky. He’s his best friend, his oldest friend and he can’t lose him, not over something like this. It’s better not knowing, because even though he feels like this, it’s better than the alternative, not seeing Bucky, not being around him, not living with him. He just can’t.

“I just want you to be happy!” Nat yells after him.

“I know.” Steve sighs, not loud enough for her to hear, but it doesn’t need to be, Nat knows, they both know. Steve knows that Bucky makes him happy, more than anything else, indescribably happy, and he knows that Nat has his best interests at heart, she does, but that doesn’t mean that he can do what she says, he just can’t.

Three days later Bucky hasn’t brought up the conversation he interrupted in the kitchen and neither has Steve. Steve wants to forget that conversation ever happened, and he wants Bucky to forget too, but the way that Bucky looks over at him when he thinks Steve cannot see him. Steve knows with utter surety that he hasn’t forgotten the conversation and is waiting for Steve to elaborate. There is no way that Steve can do that, without telling Bucky too much, but he knows that if Bucky hasn’t discarded that conversation, he is analysing it, not doubt wondering why Steve hasn’t brought up the mentioned guy, and that makes Steve feel like shit, because he tells Buck everything, everything but this, and he cannot tell him, he just cannot.

Of course Nat has told Sam and Clint about their discussion a few mornings ago, and of course they are corning him now, a casual coffee date turned interrogation. This is why he hates Christmas sometimes, the Christmas cheer goes to peoples head and they believe the impossible, which for some things works, but for this, this isn’t helping Steve at all.

“It’s not that fucking simple!” Steve finds himself saying, he is trying to keep his voice down as he sits in their favourite coffee shop, a half drunk pumpkin spice latte that Peter, the barista, decided he was in desperate need of this morning.

“Course not.” Sam answers, while Clint smiles at the couple sitting beside them who are glaring at them, which Clint for one thinks is entirely ridiculous, they were sucking face barely two minutes ago and now they feel need to glare since Steve swore. Clint shakes his head, he will never understand people.

Steve starts, “I just-” Clint hits him, shutting him up but Steve just shots him a glare and opens his mouth to continue, not understanding Clint’s gesturing at all.

“Dude just admit it.” Sam starts, about to continue, when Clint kicks him under the table before taking a sip of his frappe. His frappe that he did not order but Peter said he was feeling frappe vibes from Clint this morning, so made him a frappe.

“Admit what?” Bucky’s voice comes from beside Steve, and Steve has to stop himself from blushing, which he knows is insane, Bucky has no idea that they’re talking about him, but Steve knows and so do Sam and Clint, Clint who is trying his best to hide his laughter with his frappe. Of course Bucky is here now, he couldn’t arrive five minutes ago when they were discussing the Christmas Eve party that Steve and Bucky always throw, or ten minutes ago when Sam was talking about the asshole he works with, called Rumlow, that everyone hates; no Bucky has to come now.

“That Monica is the best friend.” Sam answers without missing a beat.

Bucky lowers himself into the booth beside Steve and he nudges Steve’s knee, silently telling him to shuffle over. Steve obliges and Bucky replies to Sam, “No dude, it’s totally Chandler.”

“Fine, team up on me then.” Sam says with a dramatic sigh. Bucky glances to Steve who nods in agreement, Bucky grins before glancing over at Clint who is takes a sip of his frappe, not trusting himself to say anything yet.

Steve sends Sam a grateful smile that Bucky totally misses, he says with a grin, “Three against one sucker.”

“Nat will be with me.” Sam answers and is surprised when the three of them scoff at his assumption.

“Wouldn’t count on that one Sammy.” Bucky grins, and without any other part of his body moving, his eyes flick to Steve and the corner of his mouth quirks and Steve pushes his half-drunk pumpkin latte over to Bucky with a groan. He still pretends to mind, but he doesn’t and he knows that Bucky knows he doesn’t, what Bucky doesn’t know is that Steve loves who Bucky is always stealing sips of his drinks and bites of his food, in a weird way it makes him feel, well, sort of special, and he can’t help the smile that touches his lips as Bucky eyes up Steve’s cup. Steve ignores the look Clint shoots him as Bucky’s fingers curl around the cup and he takes a sip.

Still intent of carrying this fake conversation as he is invested in it now, Sam asks, “Seriously?”

“Phoebe would totally be her pick.” Clint answers, speaking for the first time since Bucky has sat down. Bucky glances at Clint’s frappe and signs ‘Really?’, Clint doesn’t even sign back, he simply nods over to Peter and Bucky laughs, understanding.

“Can’t win anything.” Sam groans. His fingers curl around his mochaccino, the only one at the table who received what he actually ordered. Not that any of them mind that Peter takes liberties with their orders, he always gives them that smirk before he switches them up, offering them an out, which they almost never take.

Bucky smiles and takes another sip of Steve’s drink before he hands it back to Steve and asks, “Pumpkin Spice Latte?” Steve nods and Bucky’s smile widens, and Steve has no idea how he can be so cheerful before coffee, in this fucking freezing weather, so early in the morning, Bucky isn’t the early bird, he is, but not this morning it seems.

“Bucky?” Peter calls out.

Bucky jumps up out his seat and heads towards Peter, “Thanks Peter” Bucky says, giving him a smile before heading back to Steve, Sam and Clint. “Gotta go, Christmas shopping awaits.” Bucky says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and sending Nat a quick text.

“Haven’t you done that already?” Steve asks. He had spent a few hours with Bucky shopping last week, and Bucky had only gone shopping with Nat two days ago, plus he had headed out a few times to go shopping by himself, ‘hours wasted’ he had said vehemently when he returned from a shopping trip a few weeks ago empty handy.

Bucky sighs, “Apparently five hours is not enough.”

Clint takes another sip of his frappe before he says, “Rather you than me.”

“S’not my fault I have far superior taste.” Bucky grins as he backs away from them. Sam laughs and Clint sends a soft glare Sam’s way, and Steve can only look at Bucky, Bucky who is grinning, a takeaway coffee cup in hand, and that look in his eyes that Steve can never read.

When Bucky turns Steve’s eyes don’t follow him out the shop and round the corner, they do not appreciate Bucky’s windswept ruffled hair that makes Steve imagine what his hair would look like after sex, and they most certainty do not admire his ass in those jeans. Except they do, they do all of these things, and more.

On the 22^nd of December, Bucky is woken by his phone vibrating against his bed side table, making a horrible racket, pulling him from his sleep, from his dream that was just getting good. His screen is blinding as he picks up his phone, he squints at the goofy picture of Steve grinning at him, and he answers, his head flopping back on the pillow as he says groggily, “Steve?”

“Hello to you too.” Steve says, and Bucky can hear him smiling down the phone, he is far too happy for, Bucky pulls the phone away from his ear and checks the time, it’s just before 5. It is far too early for anyone to be awake this close to Christmas Bucky decides, and it is far too early for anybody to be this chirpy, any time before 9 is far too early to be perky before being caffeinated.

Steve is silent for a few seconds, and Bucky remains in bed, lying still, his eyelids fluttering shut as he listens to Steve breath. Bucky sighs, “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“How do you know I’m not?”

“Steeve.” Bucky whines, smooshing his face into his pillow as his eyes flutter shut, the phone still pressed against his ear. He doesn’t see Steve’s expression shift, but he does hear the hitch in his breath and Bucky is sure he imagined it but he smiles regardless.

Steve pauses for a few seconds before he admits, “I left my keys on the bench.”

“You’re locked out?” Bucky snorts.

Steve hesitates, Bucky hears a door slam and a voice shout in the background before Steve answers sheepishly, “Just a little.”

“Where are you now?” Bucky asks already knowing the answer, but his bed is so warm and he is still exhausted, he doesn’t want to get up, not yet, he wants another ten minutes, another half hour.

But he doesn’t have any time as Steve confirms Bucky’s suspicions, “In the hallway.”

“Of fucking cour-“ Bucky starts before stopping abruptly. Steve hears a thump and then a muttered, “Shit.”

Steve waits but there is only silence for a few seconds, so Steve asks tentatively, “Buck?” His reply is getting hung up on, suddenly talking to beeping. He raises his hand to knock, unsure what just happened. He hears another bump and then a hissed, ‘fuck’. Waiting patiently, Steve takes his phone off silent mode, and goes to open his emails where he hears the jingling of keys and the bolt clicks.

The door opens and Bucky admits quietly, “I walked into my door.” Steve barks out a laugh and continues to stare at Bucky’s face, not trusting himself to refrain for doing anything but stare, doing those heart eyes that Nat often mentions, if he looks at anything but Bucky’s face right now.

“Why were you up at 4?” Bucky asks, shutting and locking the door behind Steve. Steve takes his shoes off and puts them on the shelf before following Bucky towards the kitchen, his eyes very consciously on his face, not on Bucky’s bare chest or on the navy blue pyjama shorts that only just cover enough to be appropriate, Steve doesn’t try to think about how he bought them for Bucky years ago now for a Christmas present and he still wears them.

Steve plugs his phone in to charge as he replies, “You don’t know that I was.”

“Coffee?” Bucky asks as he shakes his head, they both know he’s right. His voice still groggy and his expression a little bleary, he isn’t fully awake and he keeps rubbing his hip where a bruise will no doubt be beginning to form and Steve is fighting the urge to offer to kiss it better for him.

“Yeah.” Steve answers, leaning against the counter, as Bucky puts the coffee on. He hasn’t seemed to realise yet, or maybe he doesn’t care, they both do it, all the time, but not usually during winter, and this morning with his endorphins high and his inhabitants slightly lowered, he can barely stop himself from staring. He will never understand how Bucky can look so devastatingly perfect just after waking up, and with Bucky still sleepy, his hair still mussed from sleep, Steve can pretend that maybe, just maybe, they were something more than friends.

Bucky turns from him, and Steve allows himself a few seconds just to look, before he opens the fridge, grabs the milk and hands it to Bucky who takes it without looking. The fridge closed Steve has nothing to distract himself, so he lets his eyes wander Bucky’s skin, tracing up his legs, over his ass and up his back before he lets his gaze linger on his left arm, on the scars above his elbow, the scars a living reminder of how he almost lost Bucky, and that is a reminder enough for Steve to snap back out his head and stop staring at Bucky. He can’t, Bucky could catch him. He can’t, Bucky is his best friend. He can’t. He just can’t. He almost lost him, Bucky was almost taken from him, and he can’t lose him, he can’t tell him, he can’t risk losing him again.

Coffee is made and consumed, Steve keeps his eyes on Bucky’s face and keeps his foot out of his mouth, he doesn’t utter any of the unspoken words that have been circulating around his head for years now, not even when Bucky laughs so hard he slips off the bench that he was sitting on, his long legs dangly over the edge, not even when Steve grabs him by the shoulders just in time, stopping him for landing too heavily on himself, and not even when Bucky grips onto Steve’s arms, his fingertips digging into skin as he steadies himself, still a little shocked by his drop.

“Bucky.”

“Steve.” Bucky answers his phone for the second time today. This time he is awake, sitting in his office, a cup of half-drunk coffee forgotten as he smiles, he can’t help it, and no one is here to see so he doesn’t care that it all it takes is the sound of Steve’s voice to make him smile.

“You still at work?” Steve asks. Bucky works too much, he doesn’t mean to, he gets paid well and he doesn’t hate his job, but his boss uses him a little, pushes him too hard and Steve and Bucky always seem to argue about it every few months. Bucky can’t say no, and he’s the best they have, so Steve gets why they want him to work long hours but that doesn’t mean that he likes it, he understands it but he doesn’t accept it. Steve not only hates how sometimes Bucky comes home looking completely spent and falls asleep on top of his duvet, the only item of clothing removed being his shoes. Steve also hates how stressed the long hours can make Bucky but what Steve hates the most is how sometimes he can go days without actually seeing his best friend.

Bucky notes the tone in Steve’s voice but he doesn’t dwell on it, he only has an hour left and then he’s free till after New Year’s. “Finishing up.” Bucky answers, his eyes sweeping his office, checking for anything out of place, anything that he’s missed, but as usual, there isn’t anything. Leaning back into his chair, he asks, “Where are you?”

“I’m getting the rest of the snacks, you said you couldn’t possibly do a movie marathon without red liquorice...”

Bucky can hear Steve grinning and he suddenly understands the faint sound of Christmas carols in the background and also the musical talents of a screaming toddler.

Bucky cuts over Steve with sigh, “I didn-”

“The word travesty was involved.” Steve answers, and Bucky laughs. They fall into silence, Bucky’s eyes fluttering shut, still tired from his early morning wake-up call and Steve is scanning the shelves, trying not to forget anything.

“Can yo-” Bucky asks, the thought suddenly occurring to him.

“Yes I got another box of tea for you.” Steve cuts across him.

His eyes flutter shut as he nods to himself and then he starts, “And we’ve-”

“Run out of milk, I know it’s covered.”

Bucky smiles and tries to think what else he needs before he starts, “Okay, but what abo-”

“Doritos? Got them, also got the chocolate that you complained about not finding at the supermarket yesterday and I got your damn salami so you won’t have to have pizza with ham alone, god forbid that happens.” Steve finishes for him.

“God you’re perfect, what would I do without you?” Bucky breathes, his eyes closed and he doesn’t even think before he says it. Standing in the supermarket aisle Steve’s heart beat quickens and he has to remind himself that in the middle of a grocery store, over the phone is not when Bucky suddenly realises he loves Steve, and Bucky says things like this all the time, but it doesn’t make Steve any better at dealing with them, especially in this headspace.

“Starve probably.” Steve answers as Bucky’s fingers curl around his coffee cup and he brings it to his lips, taking a sip before he pulls a face and spits it back into the cup with a groan, two hour old coffee does not taste great. The cup back on his desk, Bucky glares at his coffee as Steve adds, “Old coffee?”

“Shut up.” Bucky answers, continuing to glare at his coffee as Steve laughs, his laughter is abruptly cut off as Bucky hangs up.

Steve scans the living room, wondering if he’s forgotten anything. Bucky is standing in front of the fridge, the door open, staring blankly inside, he hasn’t moved for the last two minutes and Steve is beginning to worry a little. They have a stack of Christmas movies to choose from sitting next to the tv, they have snacks on the table, and more in the kitchen, they have everything they need, the first bag of liquorice has been emptied into a bowl sitting right in front of where Bucky always sits. Steve knows he hasn’t forgotten anything, the blanket is draped over the couch and everything is in place, everything except for Bucky.

They were talking and laughing only minutes ago, and then, they feel into silence, at first it was comfortable familiar silence, but without Steve even realising it, the silence transitioned into something else and now Steve’s noticed, he wants it to end.

“You ever-” Bucky starts, his voice sounding far too vulnerable for Steve’s liking. He sighs, and continues to stare into the fridge as he finishes, “Doesn’t matter.”

Steve walks towards the kitchen, as he asks, “What?”

“Nevermind.” Bucky says softly, still unmoved.

“Buuuuck.” Steve whines, hoping that it’ll have the effect of Bucky it usually does. It sort of works, Bucky’s shoulders relax a little, and he lets out a shallow breath before he turns from the fridge, shutting it behind him.

Bucky chooses his words carefully as he slowly answers, “You know if you want to break tradition, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He doesn’t look Steve in the eye for long, but when he does, Steve feels himself want to melt under it, Bucky looks so…

Steve doesn’t even know, but he can’t help but frown in reply. No idea where this is coming from, Steve’s voice is soft and only shaking a little as he replies, “Do you not want to do this?”

“No, it’s just, if you don’t.” Bucky says hurriedly. For a second Steve feels his body relax, just a little, and then he remembers that Bucky thinks that he would rather be somewhere else, and none of this is making sense.

Steve runs his gaze up Bucky, eyes lingering on his lips before he meets his eyes and asks, “What else would I want to do?”

“Well, uh, stuff.” Bucky is watching Steve with confusion now, confused by Steve’s own confusion. He also seems like he is looking for a tell, looking for something in Steve’s expression, but Steve has no idea what any of this means.

Steve echoes, “Stuff?”

“Yeah, look if there’s somewhere else you’d rather be, someone else you’d rather be with this close to Christmas, don’t worry about me, I won’t mind.” Bucky tries to give a smile, and if Steve was anyone else he would have believed it, but he knows Bucky, he knows his smiles, all of them, and he knows the smile he gives when he’s trying to be happy, trying to be supportive but just can’t be.

Steve shakes his head, his mind flicks back to the conversation Bucky had interrupted with Nat and it occurs to him that Bucky may be talking about this mysterious man who he is not good enough for. Steve smiles now, soft and sincere and real as he answers, “Bucky there is nowhere else I’d rather be, no one else I’d want to be with, I love, uh, doing this every year, I love our traditions. There somewhere else you’d rather be, someone y-”

“Course not.” Bucky cuts him off, with a look, ‘don’t be ridiculous Steve’ it says, and when Bucky smiles this time it is genuine and bright, and it lights up the room and makes everything alright again.

Steve can’t look away from Bucky, can’t look away from that smile, and he lets the silence settle around them, let’s the tension break completely, lets them settle into familiar and comforting silence before he says, “Then shut up and pick a movie.”

“I thought you picked first.” Bucky sighs before rolling his eyes. Striding towards the stack of dvds, he’s silent for thirty seconds, scanning the spines before he pulls one out from the middle of the pile as he says, “Fine… The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

Despite having more than one couch, even a larger one, it’s the two person couch that points directly at the tv, and it’s the couch that Steve and Bucky always take, for Steve it’s an excuse to sit close to Bucky, wrapping his arm around him as they watch the movie, Bucky says it’s the only way to ensure Steve doesn’t hog the popcorn, but that’s not true. They have never shifted the couch and have no intention of ever doing so. When Clint suggested it would make more sense to swap this couch with the bigger one, Bucky had shaken his head and said it would ruin the feng shui and Steve had been adamant it was not moving.

The disc in, Bucky nudges Steve’s legs over as he sits down, tugging the blanket from Steve’s grip as he pulls it over them both, and presses play. As usual, they start the movie, both leaning against the arms of the chairs, but by the time Jack is singing in the grave yard Bucky is leaning against Steve.

Predictably Steve had zero self-control and drank too much before the first half of the film, and now with less than half an hour left, he had to pause it to pee. It doesn’t matter that they’ve both seen this film half a dozen times, he doesn’t want to miss any of it. Bucky is in the kitchen making them both a fresh cup of tea when Steve shuts the bathroom door behind him, wanting to keep the heat in the living room. Steve opens his mouth and promptly shuts it as he notices Bucky’s expression. Bucky can’t see that Steve can see him, his shoulders tense and his teeth pulling at his bottom lip as he thinks. Steve waits, pours himself a glass of water and wonders what Bucky is thinking about, what he is mulling over. Steve had thought that the conversation from earlier was over, but obviously he was utterly wrong.

“Steve?” Bucky finally says, Steve is sitting on the couch now, his fresh cup of tea sitting in front of him as Bucky drops onto the couch beside him.

Steve isn’t entirely sure where he is going with this, he answers, “Yeah.”

Bucky turns to face Steve, one leg folding in front of him, the other dangling over the couch. His tongue runs across his bottom lip before it disappears and Steve meets his eyes as he says, “You can talk to me, you know that right?” Bucky’s voice is slow and his words weighted.

“Course I do Buck.” Steve answers. Completely caught off guard by Bucky’s words, by how serious Bucky looks, and how he almost looks a little saddened by Steve’s answer.

Bucky sighs, and shakes his head a little, like Steve isn’t getting it. Staring intently at him he says, “’Bout anything.” And Steve can tell he means it, but he already knows that. He can tell Bucky anything, he does tell him everything, almost everything, just not, well, what he cannot tell him, and what he cannot tell him is what he wants to tell him most of all.

“Yeah.” Steve nods.

Bucky looks like he wants to say something more, like he wants to ask another question, but he doesn’t instead, he purses his lips and does that thing he always does, takes a small breath before he chews on his bottom lips, his eyes unfocused and his expression unreadable. Obviously not content with this conversation, not finished with this, he turns back to face the tv, crosses his legs, his knee resting on Steve’s thigh as he presses play. Steve stares at the tv, not focussing, simply wondering what on earth had just happened, wondering what had made Bucky feel like he needed to say that. He thinks he knows, has an inkling that it may be able Bucky, although Bucky doesn’t know it’s Bucky, but Steve isn’t sure.

Steve isn’t left to wonder for too much long, he is placing the dvd back in its case when it is made evident. Bucky shuts the bathroom door behind himself and he walks slowly towards Steve. Steve doesn’t even have to turn around to know that Bucky is chewing on the inside of his cheek, and he knows that Bucky is going to try and broach whatever subject they were discussing earlier, again. Bucky turns away from Steve and heads towards the pantry.

The menu for The Muppet Christmas Carol is on the screen as Bucky asks, “You getting this person a Christmas present?”

“Who?” Steve has no idea what Bucky is talking about, he is pouring them both a glass of orange juice and glances up at Bucky who is looking surprisingly tense for such a question.

“The person who you aren’t good enough for, which is total shit by the way.”

“Uh..” Steve starts totally caught off guard. He has no idea how to reply to that, there is nothing that he can say, nothing that comes to mind, so instead he weakly answers, “Maybe.”

He can tell that Bucky wants to push the issue further, and Steve understands it now. When it hits him, the realisation doesn’t make him feel any better, only worse. Bucky wanted to let Steve know that he can tell him anything, this is the anything, that Bucky wants to know about. He’s upset that Steve hasn’t told him about him, this guy that he is not good enough for, and more than anything Steve wants to take that sad smile off Bucky’s face but he can’t, so he says nothing. But Steve can’t lie, won’t make up some shit story and tell it to Bucky. He can’t tell him the truth but he most certainly cannot lie to him either.

The tension in the room is gone, along with the weird energy and Bucky’s shoulders seem to have relaxed and he is smiling and laughing at Steve’s commentary when Steve’s phone rings and vibrates against the table startling the both of them.

“Why are you calling?” Steve sighs as he answers the phone. Bucky barely manages to stifle his laugh at the look of annoyance on Steve’s face as he takes another sip of his tea.

Steve can hear Nat sigh and roll her eyes before she scowls, “That is no way to answer a phone Steven!”

“You know full well that we are watching the Muppet’s Christmas Carol, well were at least, until you so rudely interrupted.” Steve answers, eliciting another laugh from Bucky.

“Seriously again?” Nat asks. It came out when they were kids, and they’ve watched it almost every Christmas since then, Nat managed to sit through it three times with them before she decided that they needed to get a few more movies in their Christmas movie rotation. Usually it’s just Bucky and Steve, but in college Nat and Sam had been pulled in on the tradition too.

“It’s a tradition for a reason.” Steve rolls his eyes, beside him Bucky gives him a thumbs up and an affirmative nod, he looks like a dork doing so and Steve’s face splits into a grin.

“I feel like it’s less of a tradition more of an excuse to lean your head on his shoulder and be all close and cutsy all afternoon.” Steve cannot tell Nat that she is not entirely off base, because she would cackle at how right she is about everything, always, so instead Steve lets out a puff of air and she cackles anyway knowing that it’s part tradition and part of exactly what she suspects. “Am I speaker phone?” Nat asks suddenly, the idea just occurring to her, sounding amused at the prospect.

Steve gives out a relieved sigh, “Thankfully no.” He had briefly considered putting her on speaker, but luckily had decided against it. He loves Nat he does, but sometimes, he wants to strangle her. He can feel his ears redden as he wonders if Bucky actually heard her.

“Oh good, pass me to Bucky.” Nat answers, he can hear the smile on her voice, and a slight touch of disappointment.

“What why?” Steve answers a little louder than he intended. Bucky raises his eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

Nat laughs, “Cause I want to talk to him.”

“Why’d ya call me then?” Steve groans, far past the point of wishing that he had left his phone on silent and had missed this phone call.

“Just give him the phone.”

Bucky’s eyes are no longer on the screen, he is watching Steve with an amused expression that pauses for a moment as Steve hands the phone over to him. Knowing Nat’s on the other end, but not entirely sure what she said to make Steve blush, Bucky presses the phone to his ear and asks almost hesitantly, “Nat?”

“Clint wants to know what you want him to bring on Christmas Eve? But that can wait, wouldn’t want to ruin your snuggle fest.” He can hear the smile on Nat’s lips as she finishes, and while he isn’t sure what Clint should bring, he’s too busy focusing on the last part as he’s silent for a few seconds.

Bucky sighs, hoping that Steve didn’t hear that, and if he did, didn’t read too much into it. Steve takes a sip of tea, his eyes on the screen as Bucky glances over him before he replies, “You couldn’t just text and ask?”

“And miss you both snapping at me and your annoyance coated tone? Never.”

Bucky answers sarcastically, “Hilarious.” Beside him Steve glances at him, wondering what Nat is saying to him, wondering if Nat could be teasing him as well, but he shakes his head, that’s just not possible, he knows that, it’s just he always manages to forget that a world exists outside of their apartment, forgets that reality does exist whenever they are inside. His world is narrowed down to Bucky, to this apartment, and it’s brilliant, but afterwards, reality is like a bucket of cold water in his face, reminding him that the world is still out there and he isn’t more than a friend to Bucky.

“Oh also-” Nat starts.

“Call you tomorrow? The ghost of Christmas present has just arrived, just text me, or think WWBD.” Bucky cuts across Nat. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to talk to her, he just doesn’t want to talk to her now, and she is interrupting tradition so he has no qualms in cutting her short and hanging up on her in a few seconds.

Nat pauses, runs it through her head before she gives up and asks, “WWBD?”

“What would Bucky do.” Steve snorts beside him and Bucky sends a glare his way. Bucky has to hold the phone away from his ear as Nat predictably erupts into laughter.

Nat manages to say between laughs, “Oh god, that’s almost as bad as Bucky knows best.” Bucky glares at the phone and groans, before he hangs up. Steve doesn’t even has to ask, he knows what Nat said, and he laughs as Bucky places Steve’s phone on the table and turns up the volume on the tv, ignoring Steve’s laughter.

With The Muppet Christmas Carol over, Bucky decides it’s time for dinner. He takes control of cutting the ingredients and lets Steve place them on the bases. Conversation is light and Bucky doesn’t mention the mysterious man again but when Steve glances over at Bucky, his hands submerged in the sink cleaning the dishes, Bucky is worrying is lip between his teeth and as Steve dries another cup he is pretty sure he knows what Bucky is thinking about. Steve can’t ask, can’t bring the subject up and by the time the pizzas are cooked, Bucky is back to smiling and talking, teasing Steve about the frying pan that caught on fire, ‘completely on its own’ Steve had insisted when it happened a few weeks after they first started living together.

How the Grinch stole Christmas is the movie Steve picks, and as Bucky folds his legs again, his plate resting on his lap, his knee resting on Steve’s thigh, Steve grins, and wonders why they don’t do this more often. Bucky is whispering smart comments and Steve almost chokes on his pizza a few times, and everything is perfect.

The movie ends and Bucky insists that they wash the dishes before they both change into their pyjamas and brush their teeth. Steve rolls his eyes but Bucky gives him a look that he hasn’t been able to refuse since they were kids, a look that he has perfected, and could rival Sarah Rogers, so Steve shuts his mouth, an uncommon occurrence and does as Bucky says. Steve flicks on Johnny Mathis as the two of them clean their teeth, and Steve and Bucky find themselves dancing around their apartment, full of energy, singing at the top of their lungs for a few lines before they realise what time it is and turn the volume down. They continue to brush their teeth in silence, still dancing around the bathroom like total idiots but neither of them give a single shit.

It’s just past 2am when Steve dozes off, they are over half way through the Polar Express and Bucky’s eyelids are drooping, but he wants to see the rest of this movie, he wants to sit here, Steve’s body pressed up against his, Steve’s head on his shoulder and his fingers curled around Bucky’s shirt, holding on to him tightly. With his eyes shut, Steve’s eyelashes are infinitely long and Bucky can no longer focus on the movie, so he shuts it off, and pauses, wondering whether to wake Steve up-

He shakes his head, no, Steve looks to peaceful, too perfect, so Bucky moves slowly, and scoops Steve up, times like this he misses his little Steve, who he could easily carry, who he could wrap his arm around and protect him, but now Steve’s big himself, and he doesn’t need to be protected, he doesn’t need Bucky, and Bucky’s just glad he keeps him around.

It takes him a few minutes and careful navigating to reach Steve’s bed and place him on it without bumping into anything, well without Steve getting bumped against anything, Bucky however managed to reacquaint himself with the edge of the coffee table. Blankets pulled up over Steve, Bucky doesn’t even bother to resist the urge to brush the hair on Steve’s forehead to the side, Steve murmurs but doesn’t wake, his hand still gripping the front of Bucky’s shirt, he hasn’t let go since leaving the couch, even when Bucky had to pull back the blankets.

As Bucky pulls away, Steve’s grip on his shirt tightens and he murmurs despairingly at the loss of Bucky’s arms on him, the loss of Bucky’s body beside him, and even as he sleeps, he is strong enough to pull Bucky towards him. Steve’s bed is cold and empty, and Bucky is warm. Bucky tries to pry Steve’s fingers off of his shirt, but by the time he does, he is practically lying beside Steve. Steve, who had managed pull Bucky as close to him as he could while still sleeping, Steve who shuffles towards him now, and Bucky doesn’t fight it, he gets under the duvet he just pulled over Steve, and he turns, his back to Steve, and Steve’s arm wraps around Bucky only seconds later.

Bucky is too tired to care, too tired to walk to his own bed, too tired to think, so he lets himself get comfortable, he lets Steve pull him towards him, lets him nuzzle his nose against his neck, lets him breathe hot air against his hair, lets his feet intertwine with his, and lets his eyelids flutter shut. As he slips to the brink of unconsciousness, he lets his hand rest on Steve’s, not caring that he shouldn’t be sleeping with Steve, he is tired, and god he wants this, needs this, so he lets himself be held.

Let’s himself forget that they’re only friends.

Let’s himself forget that he isn’t good enough for Steve.

Let’s himself forget that there is someone in Steve’s life that he isn’t telling him about.

Let’s himself forget everything except for how safe he feels in Steve’s arm, how warm Steve is against him and how much he missed Steve’s arm being wrapped around him.

It is barely seven when Bucky wakes up with a smile on his lips and an arm wrapped around his waist. He knows where he is, but it still takes a second for it to sink in, for him to remember how Steve wouldn’t let go of his shirt, how he murmured appreciatively as he pulled Bucky close to him, how he held him so tight. Steve is still asleep, Bucky can tell from years of experience, can tell by the way Steve’s chest is steadily rising and falling against his back, how he is pressed against Bucky’s ass, not caring or even aware of how hard he is right now, how his body is so close to Bucky’s in every possible way, Bucky knows that Steve couldn’t possibly be awake. The scent of Steve wraps around Bucky, and makes him never want to get out bed, never want to move, he feels safe, content, but he knows it can’t last, he has to get up.

His entire body protests as Bucky pulls away from Steve, slips out from underneath his arm, and the small displeased sigh that escapes Steve’s lips and the way his arm reaches out towards him, barely moving, but enough to make Bucky notice, is killing Bucky. Draping the duvet back over Steve, covering him as best he can, his gaze lingers on Steve’s face for a few seconds, he looks so perfect, his hair slightly dishevelled and his lips parted, and Bucky has to let his eyes flutter shut before he turns from the bed and heads out of Steve’s room, pulling the door to a close behind him as he heads to his room, off to get changed, he needs to clear his head, needs to stop thinking about Steve, in that way at least, he can’t have Steve, Steve doesn’t want him, and that’s okay, but with the way Steve wouldn’t let go… Bucky shakes his head as he ties the laces on his sneakers, tired and desperate Bucky’s mind had seen more than was there.

Since it is Christmas Eve Eve, as per tradition, Bucky is shaking Steve awake at 9am, a grin on his face as he nudges Steve over and climbs into bed beside him. Steve only half awake shifts over, as he smooshes his face into his pillow and groans out loud as Bucky brushes his cold feet against Steve’s leg. Steve doesn’t remember leaving the couch, he doesn’t remember not letting go of Bucky, he doesn’t remember Bucky sleeping beside him, how he let Steve pull him close, he doesn’t remember Bucky waking up and leaving almost two hours ago.

“You’re cold.” Steve grumbles, not pulling away from Bucky, not wanting to move a single inch away from him. He misses when they were kids and slept in the same bed, or in college when they were freezing their asses off and huddled together for body warmth, and he only rarely gets to wake up with Bucky beside him now, and even though he did just sleep with Bucky he doesn’t even remember doing.

With Bucky lying beside him now, his hands behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling, his hair messing, he looks utterly devastating, and totally perfect, and Steve can pretend to himself that this is what he wakes up to every morning, Bucky with bed hair and a sleepy smile on his lips.

“It’s snowing.” Bucky says.

“Shocking! Snow in December? In New York? My god!” Steve answers, his face still pressed against the pillow. He doesn’t know how Bucky is awake and smiling and totally coherent, while he is still waking up, wishing that he could another hour or two of sleep.

“Fuck!” Steve half shouts, his eyes fully open now and glaring at Bucky, who has his cold hand pressed against Steve’s stomach.

“What?” Bucky blinks, and smiles innocently, looking up at Steve.

Steve isn’t buying that look, it doesn’t even make him pause for a second, he grabs Bucky’s wrist and tries to pry Bucky’s freezing hand off his stomach as he says, “Get your ice block hand off of me.”

“But Stevie you’re just so warm.” Bucky practically purrs and Steve pauses for a moment, not able to process anything until Bucky’s hand moves to his shoulder and Steve flinches, trying to move away from Bucky’s ice grip but Bucky just laughs.

“Take your hand off or I- ” Steve starts, his fingers wrapping around Bucky’s wrist, pulling the offending hand off of him, for a second he thinks he’s winning but then Bucky smirks. “Shit.” Steve hisses as Bucky places his other freezing hand on the back of his neck.

Bucky grins and says contently, “So warm.”

“Why are you so cold?” Steve asks, trying to move away from Bucky’s touch but failing as Bucky grabs his wrist and pulls him back towards him, his smile contagious.

Bucky shifts his hands and grins, “Must be my heart”

“I was thinking more y- shit!” Steve is almost wrestling Bucky now, the both of them giggling as Bucky’s hands move.

“You like that?” Bucky says, grinning at Steve. He hesitates for a second as their eyes meet and Steve grabs his wrists and grins, before Bucky’s foot moves forward and he rests it against Steve’s ankle. Steve hisses again making Bucky giggle as he frees his hands.

“Get of-”

“So warm.” Bucky coos, his hands both of Steve’s chest now. Steve doesn’t have time to process before Bucky’s hands move again.

Steve rolls his eyes and grins, “You’re such a little shit.” Usually it’s Bucky who says it to him, but with Bucky’s freezing hands on Steve’s skin, it’s definitely Steve’s turn to say it.

“Course.” Bucky grins, his wrists slipping from Steve’s hands and touching skin, making Steve flinch from the cold. Bucky’s hands are warmer now and he laughs as his hands keep escaping Steve’s grip, reaching skin and then moving on, teasing Steve with smile as Steve groans in frustration.

Steve notices it a split second before Bucky does, and the words of the tip of his tongue disappear, his grin fades and his breath catches in his throat. Bucky freezes at Steve’s expression, and then his eyes trail down his arm to where his right hand is, fingers just under the waist band of Steve’s pyjama pants. He pulls his hand back abruptly, his face starting to redden and Steve’s brain can barely function, he doesn’t know what to do next, how to go from here. The playful air is gone, and now it isn’t awkwardness, it’s something else, something similar to tension, that Steve isn’t sure what to do with.

Time isn’t travelling at normal speed, and Steve’s eyes flick to Bucky’s face, his expression unreadable, his offending hand is hanging limp by his side and Steve’s mouth curls into a smile as he registers the way that Bucky is lying now in relation to the bed. With a swift but soft kick to Bucky’s knee, Bucky slides back just a little, and tips right off the bed. He lets out a shocked gasped as he discovers there is no bed left and a moment later he is on his ass, with Steve grinning down at him mischievously, wondering whether he just made things worse or infinitely better.

The tense immediately dissipates with three words, Steve feels his whole body relax as Bucky sighs loudly and grins as he says affectionately, “You little shit.”

“Cupcakes aren’t christmasy!” Steve exclaims an hour and a half later. Steve doesn’t even have to ask, he knows that Bucky is making cupcakes, he knows by the ingredients that he is setting out, he knows by the way there isn’t a recipe in sight, and by the way that Bucky turns up the music and gives Steve an innocent smile.

“I’ll ice them red and green.” Bucky shrugs. They have this same discussion every year, and every year Bucky comes up with a different reason, and every year Steve tries to eat every single cupcake and moans at how delicious they taste.

Steve keeps using the cookie cutter, shaping the dough into gingerbread men and he sighs, “You can’t just make them red and green and all of sudden their transformed into Christmas cupcakes.”

“Works for all the crap everyone sells, and these cupcakes will be so fucking delicious they won’t even make it to Christmas.” Bucky grins and Steve laughs. Every year he complains when they go shopping that all the shit they sell that is infinitely more expensive than it was two weeks ago purely because it is now Christmas themed or coloured.

“You’re going to make sure of that are you?” Steve asks, his focus no longer on the gingerbread man he is prying out of the cookie cutter but on how Bucky is shaking his hips along with the music and humming, waiting for the words to start.

“I’ll do what needs to be done.” Bucky says, measuring and adding the ingredients, his back to Steve but Steve can tell without seeing his face that he’s smiling.

Steve sighs, “You’re an idiot.”

“That’s why you love me.” Bucky grins, and he turns on the beater, and as the bowl whirls round, he leans over the bench, grabs the remote and turns up Jingle Bell Rock.

Steve knows what will happen next, but his brain is still trying to wrap around the ‘you love me’ which he knows Bucky doesn’t mean in the way that Steve’s brain is telling him, but when Bucky’s hand grab Steve’s and he pulls him away from the bench, Steve still has enough brain functioning to groan as Bucky sings and tries as he always does to get Steve to dance.

Bucky may have forgotten this morning but Steve hasn’t, how can he, so when Bucky moves his hands, Steve’s eyes can’t help but follow them for a moment before he sees the way that Bucky freezes, just for a moment and Steve can feel the tension returning, so he belts out, “Jingle bell time is a swell time,” and despite himself Steve dances. There’s a pause, a second where Steve isn’t sure what to do and then Bucky laughs, a beautiful sound that Steve always loves to hear and then Bucky is singing and pulling Steve with him as they dance around the living room. Steve doesn’t even blush, doesn’t think about how Bucky sounds exponentially better when he sings than Steve does, or how Bucky is eternally graceful, even dancing around like an ass in their apartment he still looks perfect.

Flour is getting everywhere, it is in Bucky’s hair and on Steve’s shirt. Steve has Bucky’s hand print made out of batter on the front of his shirt, not to mention batter on his neck. Steve is holding Bucky against him, his arms wrapped around him as Bucky squirms trying to get free. Thank God It’s Christmas by Queen is blaring around them but neither of them are paying attention.

“Drop it.” Steve warns, his fingers curled around Bucky’s arm, trying to reach his hand, Bucky is laughing and squirming, his grip holding firm, and Steve is not letting himself think about how Bucky smells or the way his body is pressed up against him.

“No.” Bucky shakes his head, shifts his body again, trying to get free.

Steve tries changing tactics, and manages to get closer to Bucky’s right hand but he still can’t reach it.

“Drop the spoon Bucky.” Steve repeats. This time when he shifts, Bucky’s expecting it, and he wriggles out of his grasp, and lunges forward away from Steve, the spoon still in hand. Hands splayed out on the bench bracing himself, Steve straightens up, to find Bucky on the other side of the island, spoon waving in his hand and a teasing grin on his lips.

“If you want him, come and claim him.” Bucky taunts, his left hand running through his hair, as he tries to get rid of some of the flour.

“Him?”

Bucky sighs, and shakes his head, the spoon still waving as he says sounding a little disappointed, “Come on, I just quoted Arwen and you’ll getting on me how the spoons an ‘it’ not a ‘he’.”

The timer beeps and both of their eyes flick to the oven where Bucky’s fifth and sixth tray of cupcakes are finishing off, Steve’s third tray of gingerbread men still have another few minutes but if Bucky doesn’t take his cupcakes out soon they’ll burn. Still in the kitchen, Steve turns back to Bucky, and grins, steps in front of the oven and crosses his arms. Bucky groans, he doesn’t want to cave, but he doesn’t have a choice, Steve may not let Bucky’s cupcakes burn but Bucky doesn’t want to risk it.

“If you want them, come and claim them.” Steve grins. Bucky sighs, defeated, throws Steve the spoon and nudges him out of the way seconds later before pulling the oven door open and smiling, his cupcakes are perfect, again.

The floor has been vacuumed, the bench wiped down and the bowls have been cleaned and put away, the mess is gone, and Christmas carols are still playing in the background. Sitting on stools on either side of the island, Steve and Bucky are decorating the gingerbread men, Steve singing along to the carols while Bucky bites down on his bottom lip in concentration, trying to make his gingerbread men look even half as good as Steve’s do.

“That gingerbread man looks like he slaughtered his entire family and is going to kill us next.” Steve notes, smirking over at Bucky. They only have about ten gingerbread men left to decorate and Steve has been giving Bucky smart comments about his own gingerbread men for the past few songs.

“Well sorry that I’m not quite the artist that you are Steve.” Bucky answers, splattering red on his gingerbread mans hands, and giving him the Joker’s smile. “Better?” Bucky asks, holding up his murderous gingerbread man.

“Better.”

Bucky turns his gingerbread man back to face him and stares at him for a few seconds, before he says, “I’m going to name him Dexter.”

Steve’s eyes flick up from his gingerbread man, his tie no longer straight, Steve meets Bucky’s eyes, and Bucky’s mouth twitches, before the two of them break out in laughter.

When anyone asks Steve what his favourite time of the year it is, Christmas immediately comes to mind, moments like this comes to mind. Christmas to Steve means so many things, but mainly it means time for just him and Bucky, them being children, teenagers, college students again, them being ridiculous and hilarious and insane together, them singing and dancing and baking together, just relaxing, doing nothing and everything all at once. Christmas means shopping and snow and Steve loves the latter, but that’s not what makes Christmas special, this is. And this is exactly why he can’t tell Bucky how he feels, he cannot lose Bucky, he can’t lose these moments, he simply cannot.

Feliz Navidad is playing as Steve leans against the kitchen island, a bowl of green icing in one hand and a spoon in the other and he stirs it again. He leans next to where Bucky is adding another drop of red colouring into the second bowl of icing. “Maybe I should ice your cupcakes.”

“Well of c-“ Bucky starts, before pausing his brain catching up, Steve gives him an innocent smile before his eyes flick over to where the gingerbread men are sitting on the kitchen bench, all finished and in plastic containers. Bucky groans, “Oh you ass, my icing is just as good as yours thank you very much.”

“Say that to the stack of serial killer gingerbread men you just decorated.”

“Oh ouch, you hit my where it hurts, my icing skills.” Bucky says, feigning sadness as he clutches his shirt over his heart and fakes a sniff. The red icing is done and he places it on the island, and turns to get the cupcakes off the kitchen bench.

Steve remains where he is, leaning against the bench as he pleas, “Come on I can do awesome designs, they will look spectacular.”

“Hmmmm….” Bucky ponders, confiscating the bowl of green icing from Steve. Steve helps shift the cupcakes, spreading them out over the island as he Bucky scratches his chin thoughtfully just to piss Steve off. They both know that Steve will help do the icing, they both know that Steve will do a better job of the fancier stuff, and Bucky would never let Steve make him ice the cupcakes by himself.

“Buuucky.” Steve whines after another few seconds of contemplative chin scratching and he leans over Bucky, grabbing the piping bags before Bucky can reach them.

Bucky leans to get them back, but Steve extends out his arm. Bucky sighs, “Fine.” And Steve grins, hands Bucky a piping bag and starts shovelling the green icing into the piping bag in his own hand.

The music plays on, a dozen cupcakes are iced, and then another dozen. Bucky and Steve sing along to the music occasionally, Steve complimenting Bucky’s icing which earns him a ‘thanks pal’ laced with sarcasm each time. With only ten cupcakes left to ice Bucky sings along to All I Want for Christmas Is You as it plays on in the background, and beside him Steve is icing a Christmas stocking onto a cupcake. The song is almost halfway through before Steve sighs, leans across the counter, grabs the remote and changes the song.

“What?” Bucky asks, glaring at Steve, he likes that song. Steve just smiles, he doesn’t tell Bucky, can’t tell Bucky that he cannot listen to Bucky sing another line of that song before his heart splits in two. “Seriously?” Bucky sighs as It’s Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas by Johnny Mathis blares out of the speakers. Steve grins, and ices a squiggly line across Bucky’s iced on bauble.

Bucky has resisted the very tempting urge to squirt icing at Steve since they started icing the cupcakes, and he does so successfully for quite some time, but with only three cupcakes left, he suddenly can’t resist anymore. The first line Bucky ices onto Steve; Steve doesn’t even flinch, he continues with the Christmas tree, not glancing over at Bucky. The second line and third line, make Steve stiffen but he doesn’t say anything.

“Buck.” He warns on the fourth line and on the fifth he takes Bucky’s piping bag off of him. Bucky smiles innocently and leans against the bench beside Steve, while Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer plays in the background. Steve is still concentrating as he ices the next cupcake.

When there is only one cupcake left, Steve chances a glance and looks up at Bucky, who is staring down at him, an odd look on his face and when Steve catches him staring he doesn’t turn away, he gives a small smile, and then Steve notices Bucky’s hand move and suddenly there is a finger running over his jaw, and Bucky is grinning and pulling his hand away, leaving a red line of icing on Steve.

Steve grins up at Bucky, and Bucky takes a step back, knowing that Steve will retaliate, he can’t not. Neither of them really want to clean up again, but right now neither of them even think, instead Steve grabs Bucky’s wrist and pulls him towards him, holding him still as he raises his arm and gives Bucky a crown of red icing.

“You started this.” Steve grins, laying the piping bag on the bench and raising his hands in mock surrender. Bucky ignores the icing crown that he is currently wearing and runs at Steve bowl full of green icing in hand.

Happy Xmas (War is Over) is blaring in the background as Steve glances over at the sink. Both icing bowls are completely submerged in soapy water. Both Bucky and him are painted in icing, and neither of them have any icing left to use.

“Truce?” Steve offers, taking a small step towards Bucky who is watching him carefully, his eyes on Steve’s hands, that he offers up, showing his palms. Bucky nods, and Steve takes another step forward. Bucky’s left hand unclenches, revealing half a handful of flour. Steve doesn’t have time to wonder where Bucky got that from before Bucky throws it up and the flour falls over both of them, just like the snow outside.

“You’re cleaning that up.” Steve says and Bucky’s laughter gets louder, drowning at the music and making Steve smile in response.

“It was totally worth it.” Bucky grins, and with the ways his eyes are twinkling, Steve is pretty sure it was worth it. Bucky’s expression flickers before he smiles softly and says, “You have a little something-”

“Really?” Steve asks sarcastically, looking at Bucky feigning shock. Both of them are dusted in flour, with icing in their hair, on their skin and covering their clothes. There is one lone uniced cupcake sitting by the edge of the kitchen island, and Steve makes a mental note to eat that when Bucky’s in the shower.

Bucky smirks and takes a step towards Steve, his hand outstretched as he says, “Yeah, just a little bit-“ He guides his thumb over Steve’s nose, his fingers resting against Steve’s cheek and Steve’s eyelids momentarily flutter shut as Bucky’s thumb wipes the icing off Steve’s nose. Steve’s heart is hammering against his rib cage, and he can’t even hear the music in the background over the pounding in his ears.

Bucky gives him a small smile and moves to wash his hand off in the sink, before he changes his mind. Steve’s eyes follow Bucky’s hand and before he knows what is happening, Bucky’s lips are parting and his lips are wrapping around his thumb, and Steve makes the dangerous decision to lift his gaze and he regrets it almost instantly, Bucky’s eyes meet his, piercing and yet warm, they are watching him almost curiously, and without a conscious decision Steve’s eyes flick back to Bucky’s mouth.

Steve’s mind cannot focus on anything else, he can barely think, all he can is stare at Bucky, who drags his thumb out of his mouth, and then his tongue is darting across his bottom lip and Steve has to physically look away from Bucky, he doesn’t want to, but he has to. He looks away for a few seconds, busying himself with the cupcakes before he glances up and Bucky immediately draws attention to his mouth, and Steve has to look away again, he has never wanted to kiss him more.

“Bags the shower.” Bucky says, his tone completely normal and totally casual a split second later, and Steve just nods. Turning away from Steve and striding out of the kitchen, his thumb tracing the line of his mouth as Steve’s eyes follow after him wondering what the fuck just happened and why on earth it made him so hard, while hoping to god that Bucky didn’t notice. Letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, Steve runs his fingers through his hair, as he sighs, leaning against the bench, this day is fucking with his head.

The rest of the day passes without incident. Bucky doesn’t mention what happened with the icing, nor what happened in Steve’s room in the morning. The two of them listen to Christmas carols, and Steve confiscates Bucky’s phone as he keeps checking his emails, almost obsessively while trying to sneak a little bit of work in. Steve makes them a late dinner while Bucky cleans up his mess. The cupcakes and gingerbread man are in plastic containers, resting on the bench and the dishes are all cleaned and put away, the lone uniced cupcake already eaten and Bucky’s itching to do something, do some work, go for a run.

As the snow continues to fall from the sky Steve manages to dissuade Bucky from going for a run and they end up playing video games until 11 o’clock. Bucky had forgotten what a little shit Steve could be while playing Mario Kart, but it only took him one race to shift himself to the other couch, lying out across it as he plays. The two of them yell and laugh and cheer and groan as the music continues to play, and Steve feels completely relaxed, happy and light, and as he falls into bed just before midnight, he feels like he’s missing something, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. He still hasn’t remembered how he pulled Bucky into bed with him the night before, or how he had wrapped his arms so tightly around Bucky, not wanting to lose him as soon as Bucky climbed into bed beside him. Drifting off to sleep, he dreams of candy canes and snow and Bucky, and everything is perfect.

Alone in his bed, Bucky misses Steve’s body beside him, misses his warmth, his breath on his neck, and he lies in bed staring at the ceiling for half an hour. Deciding to feign a nightmare and crawl into Steve’s bed, if he still isn’t asleep by 2am, he takes another half hour to fall asleep. When his clock flicks to 2am he is fast asleep.

It’s finally Christmas Eve, the day before Christmas, but far more importantly, the day of Steve and Bucky’s Christmas party. Bucky is up, showered and dressed before seven, and is heading towards the door, making a mental note to pick up a bagel before work when Steve’s voice comes from behind Bucky, “You are not.”

“What?” Bucky asks, feeling like a teenage again, getting caught by his parents trying to sneak out. He was sure that Steve was still asleep, but as he turns, Steve is leaning against his bedroom door frame and his watching Bucky intently.

“Going to work,” Steve says with sigh.

Bucky tries his best to not look like he’s lying when he answers, “I wasn’t.”

Steve shoots a ‘don’t lie to me’ look as he says firmly, “Buck.” If his expression wasn’t obvious enough, the jeans and winter coat complete with his briefcase in his right hand, are giving him away just a little bit.

Bucky sighs, knowing he’s busted so he admits what Steve already knows, “Pierce just needs me to-”

“Have a fucking holiday Buck! I hereby decree that you are henceforce under house arrest. We have to get this place ready for the party tonight and I know for a fact that you haven’t wrapped any presents yet.” Steve replies, his tone a little harsher and more commanding than intended but Bucky just nods, bites down on his lip and then shakes his head a little, Steve can see his resolve is fading, he doesn’t want to go to work, Steve can get him to stay.

“You know you could always wrap them?” Bucky asks. He goes to say something else but Steve almost looks, upset, no, Bucky must be wrong, by the notion of doing it by himself, they always do it together, and Bucky’s grip on his briefcase loosens as he waits for Steve to answer.

Steve’s voice is softer, his tone has a hint of something that Bucky cannot quite identify as he answers, “I write the beautiful little name tags and you wrap.”

Bucky smiles, Steve has always had worse handwriting of the two, but he is absolutely awful at wrapping gifts, so he writes while Bucky wraps, it’s the way it has been since they were kids, and they used stole some paper from their parents, used far too much tape and managed to get glitter everywhere when Steve decided the cards needed to be spruced up a little. It’s just another Christmas tradition of theirs, and Bucky doesn’t know about Steve, but he absolutely adores it.

“Cards?” Bucky asks, already knowing the answer, but wanting to see Steve smile.

“I always do them you know that.” Steve says rolling his eyes a little and he smiles, he smiles the smile that Bucky adores, and he knows he can’t leave, not anymore. He could have left ten minutes ago, but he hadn’t, half hoping Steve would wake up and stop him, but he’s never going to admit that.

Bucky’s resolve is softening, he doesn’t’ really want to go into work and he knows he shouldn’t have to on Christmas Eve, but he still has a little fight in him so he says, “I’ll only be-”

“You can try to leave.” Steve cuts him off, not a trace of a smile on his lips, but his words drip with his smile, and Bucky wonders if he should just to see what Steve would do.

Steve doesn’t elaborate so Bucky prompts with a smirk, “But?”

“You won’t make it to that door.” Steve’s eyes flick to the front door, before they land back on Bucky. He is still leaning against his door frame, his arms folded looking unimpressed, and Bucky loves how Steve is still waking up and yet commanding him not to go.

Bucky takes a step towards the door and teases, “Oh really?”

“You seem to be forgetting I could easily take you.” Steve answers, his voice even but the smile in his eyes is giving him away. The corners of his mouth lift a little and he smiles at Bucky, challenging him.

“I’m faster.” Bucky smiles back, glancing over to the door and then back at Steve, wondering whether he could make it out of the door before Steve reaches him.

Steve nods, shrugs his shoulders and then answers, “You wanna risk it?”

Bucky sighs, rolls his eyes, turns back to his bedroom, to drop his bag and to get out of his jeans. Steve grins triumphantly and rushes to the kitchen, flicks on the kettle and turns on the stereo, letting Christmas carols fill the room. He can hear Bucky groan, but Steve knows he is grinning, it’s not just Steve who loves to blare Johnny Mathis all day.

Wrapping paper covers the floor, Steve’s infinitely long Christmas playlist is playing for the second time and Steve is making them both another cup of tea as Bucky leans back, his back against the couch as he sucks at his thumb.

“Every fucking year.” Bucky sighs, as Steve drops a band aid on his lap. Steve laughs, and sets his tea on the coffee table. The furniture has already been pushed away and stacked and manoeuvred for the party, and over half the presents have been wrapped and labelled. Steve is on his second card now, unable to articulate what he wants to write, what he wants to write aside from the typical, Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, Bucky always has to dictate the first sentence or two, and then Steve finishes it off.

“That’s what’s happens when you rush.” Steve ticks. He is completely expecting the glare he gets in return as Bucky wraps the plaster around his thumb and grabs the sandwich that Steve made him about half an hour ago but he was too distracted to eat.

Steve makes a soft noise as Bucky grabs the scissors, he mouths ‘be careful’ and struggles to keep a grin off his face. Bucky glares and threatens, “I will hit you.”

“Do they know it’s Christmas time?” Steve sings in reply, dancing around the living room, grinning down at Bucky who rolls his eyes and takes another bite of his sandwich.

“You wrapped my gift yet?” Steve asks as they playlist starts again.

“Your gift? I was supposed to get you something?” Bucky asks, looking over at Steve in surprise. He stops cutting the wrapping paper, frozen as he stares at Steve and Steve’s finishes stuffing Fury’s card into the envelope before he looks over at Bucky.

“Well I-” Steve stammers.

Bucky’s look of worried surprised gives way to a massive smile as he answers, “Course I’ve got you gifts Stevie, all wrapped, all labelled and even a card to boot.” Steve places Fury’s card on top of Maria’s and looks over at Bucky with an umimpressed expression. Bucky just laughs and returns to cutting the Rudolph wrapper paper as he asks, “Now whose card we doing now?”

“Darcy’s.” Steve smiles as labels the envelope. Checking Darcy off the list he writes on the card, Dear Darling Darcy.

He lets Bucky dictate the first sentence while he wraps the sweater they got for Coulson, Steve writes as Bucky talks, a few seconds behind so when Bucky sighs, “Uh no, say, absolutely fucking amazing, not brilliant.” Steve doesn't swear and have to search for the twink.

Bucky only has a three presents left to wrap and Steve has about a dozen cards left to write in, and they still have over an hour left before the party starts, Steve clicks his neck, takes a sip of his tea and then continues to write Darcy’s card, reading aloud as he writes, Bucky nodding along and making corrections when needed.

“We don’t have enough ice.” Steve sighs, he glances at the clock, the guests will be arriving in fifteen minutes and Steve has checked and double checked everything, just like he always does, and his thoughts are all over the place, he can barely focus, not with Bucky in those jeans, those skin tight black jeans that make Steve’s gaze follow Bucky’s ass around the second Bucky has his back to him.

Bucky sighs, “Seriously? It is fucking winter, there’s enough cold outside Steve,” and doesn’t even look up from where he is currently squatting in front of the stereo, fiddling with the plugs in the wall, completely unaware of how Steve’s eyes are glued to his ass, lusting after him and trying his best to look away, and of course failing miserably.

Turning back to the fridge which is open in front of Steve, Steve starts, “Yeah but-”

“You say this every year and have we ever run out of ice?” Bucky groans. They have been hosting a party on Christmas Eve for the past seven years now and every year Steve worries about running out of ice, every single year. It isn’t that he only worries about running out of ice, he worries that they will run out of everything, but every year he discusses the amount of ice to buy to death, and Bucky thinks its adorable, something that he will never tell Steve of course.

Steve hesitates, silent for a few seconds and Bucky looks over at him prompting his answer. “Well, no, but-”

“We run out, it’s my fault.” Bucky flicks the switch and the lights on the Christmas tree switch on and he whoops triumphantly as the lighting lining the top of the wall lights up and the stereo turns on.

Steve nods, “Damn right it is.”

The music is playing in the background, just loud enough to be heard over the chatter. Bucky lost the game of paper scissors rock, so all coats and presents are placed in his room, and as the door opens again, Steve struggles to remember how many people they actually invited. Steve always loves their Christmas Eve party, just another part of their Christmas tradition that he wouldn’t even consider for a moment giving up on. Their apartment filled with people they love and care for, chatting and laughing, Steve can hardly imagine a better way to spend Christmas Eve. More food and alcohol appears, and two hours in they still have plenty of ice left. Whenever Bucky catches Steve’s eye from across the room, he nods towards where the ice is and grins.

Peter shows up, his girlfriend standing beside him, and Steve’s about to ask what he’s doing here when Bucky appears beside him and grins, “Glad you guys could make it.” Steve helps with their coats and tells Peter to put the plate of food his aunt made on the bench before following Bucky into his room.

“This is his first Christmas without his uncle, and his aunt’s working tonight, I was going to run it past you but I completely forgot, and I mean, look at how happy he is.” Bucky rambles just a little, and he nods into the room, where Peter and Gwen are talking to Darcy and Jane, already laughing despite having just met them.

“I think it’s a brilliant idea.” Steve smiles, wondering how Bucky knows all this, but then again he isn’t really surprised, Bucky’s always been far more social than him, and he seems to have taken a shine to Peter, seeing him as the little brother he never had.

Bucky hesitates, before leaning against his bedroom door, and asks Steve, “You having fun?”

“Course.” Steve grins, his eyes sweeping the room, he had said presents weren’t really necessary this year, but almost everyone seems to have gotten them something. Their guests presents are underneath the tree, so they can take them before they leave, and it means if Steve has a little too much to drink like he did the year before last, Bucky can spend the end of the party, rubbing circles on his back as Steve leans over the toilet bowl, throwing up, instead of finding and handing out gifts.

“Bucky!” A voice calls out, and Bucky smiles at Steve before heading back out into the party.

“I hate Christmas music.” Nat groans as soon as she steps into their apartment, a bright smile on her face and Clint by her side. A bag of presents in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other Bucky takes both off her and she pulls Steve into a hug.

“No you don’t, you love it, you’re just too sober to enjoy it.” Bucky answers. Nat sighs and Bucky turns, heading to his bedroom to drop off the presents, leaving the vodka on the kitchen bench as he walks past. He can hear Nat grumble in reply but he is too far to hear, so instead he leaves the presents on his bed, pushes his thoughts aside, all inappropriate thoughts of Steve in that shirt, and heads back out into the party, a smile on his lips.

Step Into Christmas starts playing and he can hear Nat groan from half way across the room. A few more steps and Bucky is standing beside Clint who is grinning expectantly at Nat who pulls a face and Clint glances over at Steve, he knows it’s a long shot, he never dances this early on, Steve looks to Bucky for help, but Bucky just gives him a smile. Nat sighs, grabbing Steve’s hand she pulls him towards the kitchen as she says, “I need a drink.”

“You’re not going to make me dance by myself are you?” Clint asks, grinning at Bucky now.

Bucky feigns shock and says adamantly, “Never!”

“That’s why you’re my favourite.” Clint smiles and Bucky grabs the bag out of Clint’s hand, places it on the floor beside them and nodding over to Steve to come get it before he grabs the remote and turns up the volume.

“You say that now.” Bucky sighs. Clint doesn’t reply, he belts out the lines and wiggles his hips a little looking utterly ridiculous, and Bucky laughs and mimics his movements. Sharon is walking past them, a half drunk glass of wine in one hand, and when Bucky smirks at her, she groans, places her wine down on the table and grabs Maria’s empty hand, pulling her towards them.

In the kitchen Steve doesn’t even pretend to be helping Nat get a drink, instead he watches the four of them, quickly multiply, all dancing in the middle of the living room. The couches have been pushed against the walls, the coffee table is out of the way, and Bucky is grinning, laughing, singing and dancing, and he looks euphoric, and Steve aches for him. It doesn’t help that as Steve realises this, Bucky whips his head around, his eyes catching Steve’s and he holds up his hand, curling his finger in a ‘come hither’ gesture. Steve pauses, then shakes his head, Bucky sticks out of his bottom lip, pouting for a second before Santa Baby starts, and a few of them cheer. Bucky looks away first turning to Tony who is attempting to do some form of robot dance and then to Thor who is crumping while Darcy collapses on the couch with laughter.

The next hour goes smoothly, Steve manages to keep his eyes off Bucky, he talks to people, listens to peoples holiday plans. He thanks everyone for coming, reminds them to collect their presents from underneath the tree before they go, and wishes them all a Merry Christmas. He grabs a drink, but only has one, he knows that it will end badly if he has too much to drink. After spending ten minutes chatting to Peter and Gwen, he decides within the first two minutes that she is a brilliant young woman who Peter obviously loves a lot. Refilling bowls of food, making sure everyone has drinks, he weaves between people, chatting and laughing, and isn’t at all surprised to see how well everyone is getting along, most of them already know each other, but the handful of newish friends seem to be having a splendid time as well.

“Merry Christmas Steve!” Sam says, hugging Steve for the second time tonight, Steve smiles and Sam turns to Clint and hugs him too before he decides that maybe he should sit down and have a little bit of water and a bite to eat, he was under the impression that he could do a shots contest with Nat and come off as a winner. He is almost plastered while Nat is only mildly tipsy, but Sam had his honour to defend, so he couldn’t back down without a fight, which he lost.

Steve turns from Sam and spots Bruce and Phil in the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen bench, Bruce is shaking his head as Sam and Clint wave at the two of them, trying to get them to come over and dance.

“You sure you two don’t wanna go show off your moves?” Steve says as he reaches the kitchen, Bruce smiles gratefully at him, glances over at Clint who signs, ‘Later’ before Clint and Sam go back to dancing.

Phil gives a relieved sigh, “Definitely not.”

Bruce shakes his head and takes another sip of Bucky’s punch that he never lets Steve help him make. He smiles at Steve and replies, “Not drunk enough for that.”

“Thanks for inviting us.” Bruce adds, nodding over to where Betty is chatting with Maria and Nat, her hands waving as she tells a story.

Steve smiles over at Nat who grins, and pointedly looks over to Bucky who is leaning against the doorframe talking to Thor. Steve ignores her look and turns to Bruce as he says, “No problem.” Phil glances down at his watch before finishing his glass of orange juice and places it on the bench behind him.

“I better get going, May is flying in tonight, her plane should be landing soon.” Phil says, wishing that he could stay a little longer but also glad to be heading home, it’s been a long week.

“Thanks for coming, Merry Christmas.” Steve answers, smiling as he leans forward and hugs Phil. “Don’t forget your presents, tell May hers was Bucky’s idea, I had nothing to do with it.” Steve adds and Phil grins, wondering what May’s present could possibly entail.

Steve watches at Phil weaves his way towards the door, he catches Bucky’s eye and waves goodbye, and Bucky smiles, touches Thor’s arm and says something to him before he heads towards Phil. Steve pours himself a glass of juice as he listens to Bruce talk. His eyes follow Bucky, who helps Phil find his gifts, before he hugs him goodbye, says something that makes both of them laugh and then Bucky weaves his way across the leaving room, and stops to chat to Peter who is animatedly talking to Tony, who seems to be nodding appreciatively.

“It’s snowing.” Bruce comments and Steve is instantly reminded of the morning before last, when he woke to Bucky crawling into his bed, his cold hands on his skin, and Steve shakes his head, pushing that memory out of his head as he answers, “Bad night to be the neurosurgeon on call then.”

“Bad night indeed.” Bruce sighs, hoping that they don’t need to call him in as he places down his empty glass of punch. One glass is all he can have tonight, but he doesn’t have to mind, Steve and Bucky’s parties are not ones that one must be drunk to enjoy.

“Oh god.” Nat sighs.

Steve quickly looks away from where his gaze is currently glued to Bucky, he can’t help it, his gaze keeps straying back to him, and every time he hears that laugh, he cannot help it, he glances over despite himself. Steve doesn’t say anything, he knows he has no defence, but he can’t help looking at Bucky. He isn’t sure what it is, what has changed over the last few days that makes him even more irresistible, but something has changed, something has shifted, perhaps its Sam and Nat’s insistence for Steve to tell Bucky how he feels, but perhaps it’s something different, either way, those three words are on the tip his tongue even more than usual, which is why he is keeping his distance from Bucky, the words forever threatening to slip out.

Nat takes a sip of her eggnog and leans against the kitchen bench beside Steve, a smile on her face, as she watches him look everywhere except at Bucky, and he manages for a whole two minutes, and then his gaze falls on Bucky again, Bucky who is talking animatedly to Maria and she is grinning and nodding, and there is nothing in the world that Steve wants to do more than kiss him. He ignores the look Nat gives him, but he can’t ignore her when she says, “You look more, well, strung out than usual. How drunk are you Steve you can barely keep your expression in check, another few seconds and you will have bloody heart eyes.”

“I’ve only had one drink.” Steve sighs.

He’s not drunk, he knows he can’t be, not tonight. He loves Christmas, he looks the Christmas spirit, but it makes him do stupid things, it makes him believe in miracles, and there is nothing more miraculous than him confessing to his best friend and his best friend actually feeling the same way, but he knows that won’t, can’t happen, so he is staying sober and avoiding Bucky until he can push those three words further into his head and be able to act normal.

Avoiding Bucky for over an hour is exhausting, but with so many people here, so many people to socialise with and be distracted by, he doesn’t think it’s obvious that he’s avoiding Bucky, at least he hopes not, because if Bucky notices, he will ask, and Steve cannot tell him the truth, but he can’t lie to him either, he cannot tell him that mistletoe is scattered around their apartment and if they stand under it, and someone teasingly tells them that they should kiss, Steve wouldn’t be able to stop himself from doing so. He cannot tell him that he loves him, he cannot tell him any of what he is thinking right now, which means talking to him is a bad idea.

Years, it has been, years of loving Bucky, loving him as a best friend, loving him as something more, and he thought it would get easier, that he would get over those feelings, and he did for a few months at a time when he was in other relationships, for almost a whole year with his old flame, but that familiar feeling kept returning time and time again, he loved Bucky. Always have, always will, and it’s not easier now than it was then, he may be better at squishing those feelings down and ignoring them but sometimes he has to deal with them, sometimes they confront him, and most of the time he can handle it. But tonight, in their apartment, on Christmas eve, Steve cannot handle this, not all of it, not all at once, and god Bucky is so beautiful, so perfect, so smart, so hilarious, so everything that Steve isn’t, and that feeling hits him, not how much he loves him, not the feeling that makes him grin but also turns his stomach into a knot, this feeling is the realisation that he isn’t good enough for Bucky, and as he grips the bench, his gaze falling on Bucky again, he can’t breathe.

Nat’s fingers are digging into his shoulder before he notices that her hand is on her shoulder. Her voice is soft and her eggnog forgotten as she says, “Talk to me.”

“I thought about your advice-” Steve starts, his voice shaking a little, he clears his throat, and blinks, pulling out of his thoughts. He turns his back to Bucky now and faces Nat, her hand slips off his shoulder and she looks up at him waiting for him continue.

When he doesn’t, Nat prompts “And?”

Steve sighs, and shakes his head, he wants to do it, he does, but he can’t, it’s been so long, he can’t tell him, he can’t ruin everything, he will take this over not having Bucky in a heartbeat and that’s the alternative, he can’t lose him he simply can’t. He clears his throat again and his voice is cracks a little as he says, “And nothing Nat, I can’t do it.”

“Steve-” Nat starts, she shakes her head, her eyes catching his, trying to make him understand, trying to make him see, that this could be good, that this won’t end the way that he thinks it will, but Steve looks down at his hands and sighs again.

“I’ll just refill this.” Bucky says to Maria as he spots the empty bowl out the corner of his eye. She nods in reply and turns to Pepper who is downing another shot with Tony beside her, trying to keep pace with her drinking but failing spectacularly.

Bucky pauses and leans over to pick up a Christmas ornament that had dropped on the floor when he hears Steve, and he doesn’t know why he hesitates, why he stays down on the ground, but he does. This song is quieter and Steve doesn’t seem to think that there is any risk of him being overheard as he speaks to Nat so he doesn’t keep his voice quiet.

“Alright fine, yes, I do, I am, I, I fucking love him okay.” Steve says, his tone unfamiliar, and Bucky’s heart skips a beat.

Every part of him wants to stay, wants not to move, but he doesn’t want to eavesdrop, well he does, he just knows he shouldn’t, so he pushes every thought out of his head and slips away with either Steve or Nat noticing he was even there, he rests the empty bowl on the coffee table and heads to the bathroom. With the door shut behind him, he staggers backwards, his back hitting the door as he inhales sharply. His brain is too busy, his thoughts colliding, erupting, crashing, everything is moving too fast and the air around him feels hot, crowding him in, as though this whole place is trying to strangle him. Sliding down the door, his face dropping into his palms while his body shakes and he tries not the think, he tries not to do anything but focus on breathing.

He’s not jealous, that isn’t it, it isn’t that he’s jealous that Steve is in love with someone, someone that isn’t him, it’s not the little hopeful voice in the back of his head that is trying to convince him that it’s him that Steve loves, but he knows that’s not true, he knows that Steve doesn’t want him, could never want him like that, and he’s accepted that, as much as he can. What is making him feel sick, what is making acid shoot up his throat is the fact that Steve hadn’t told him, he hadn’t told him any of this, they are, well perhaps were, best friends, they told each other everything, but there is this guy, this guy that Steve isn’t good enough for, this guy that Sam wants him to admit something to, this guy that he loves and he hasn’t even mentioned him to Bucky.

There’s a knock on the door and Bucky shifts at the sound, narrowly avoiding hitting his head against the door, he stands up hastily, straightens his shirt and pulls the door open with a small smile, the biggest one he can muster right now.

“You okay?” Sharon is standing right in front of him, her eyes accessing, sizing him up and Bucky knows he can’t lie to her, well he can but she’ll see right through it. Unsure what to say, Bucky digs his hands into his pockets and gives her a brighter smile.

“Just peachy.” Bucky says with a smile, it doesn’t look fake, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and Sharon knows better than most, so she isn’t buying it.

“Buc-”

Bucky can’t lie to her, he just can’t, so he goes with something that is always there, always at the back of his mind this time of year, screw that, not just this time of year, always but he can’t really say it, and nor does he want to, so he starts, “It’s just this night Shar, holidays, Christmas-” and then he stares at the ground, not able to continue as a lump gets stuck in his throat, just like it always does, even after all these years.

“Makes you think of your parents.” Sharon finishes when she is sure that Bucky won’t. Bucky nods, and he feels awful for making this about them, but Sharon nods, she understands, or at least she thinks she does.

Nothing in her hands to put down, she takes a step forward, wraps her arms around Bucky and pulls him close. Even though Sharon doesn’t really get why Bucky’s face looks the way it is, a hug is almost exactly what he needs right now, so he melts into it, wraps his arms around her too and breathes against her shoulder, “Thanks.”

Steve of course has no idea what Bucky overheard, and as he stands alone in the kitchen, taking another sip of eggnog, he tries not to mull over what Nat said. He doesn’t want her to be right, but he knows she is, he should tell him, but after so long, he’s used to it, why now, why after so long should he tell him. Shaking his head he takes another sip of eggnog which he sort of hates, but Nat left her half-drunk eggnog beside him before ‘her jam’ started playing and she ditched Steve to go dance with Maria and Pepper, and he can’t be bothered moving to get anything else, so he sips the eggnog and scans the room.

He tells himself he is checking that everyone is having a good time but that is an utter lie and he knows it, he’s looking for Bucky. His gaze reaches the window where the snow is swirling past and his heart stops for a second as he thinks for a horrible moment that Bucky is out there in this weather to get ice, but then he hears a laugh, Bucky’s laugh, following the sound that never fails to make him smile, he spots Bucky sitting on the floor, his back against the couch as he chats to some people from work.

Another hour passes and then another, and Steve still hasn’t spoken to Bucky since Clint dragged him off to dance well before Steve and Nat’s kitchen conversation, and Steve feels himself drawn to Bucky, but every time he gets close enough to talk, Bucky is gone, switching conversations, slipping just out of Steve’s reach and he is starting to think it’s intentional.

“It wasn’t like that.” Steve argues and Sam just sighs. Sam always over exaggerates these stories, but they aren’t far from the truth and they all know it. Steve’s eyes still sweep the room as Sam talks and he hasn’t managed to find Bucky for the last half hour and he is starting to get a little fidgeting, which he knows is ridiculous but the thought of Bucky in his room making out with someone is making his skin prickle. Sam knows he is only half listening and he doesn’t mind, he knows how Bucky and him can tend to be around the holidays, and he knows that Steve worries on nights like this, especially when Bucky disappears and could be crashed out in his room, up on the roof or just as easily out of the warmth and into the winter where anything could happen.

“So Steve here thought it would a stellar idea to interrupt these fella’s conversation and-”

Sam stops talking and nods his head over to where Bucky is standing, leaning against the door frame, no drink in hand, his arms crossed, his expression set and Steve can tell even from here that Bucky is locked in his head, worrying, thinking, deliberating. Unsure whether to go over and talk to him, Steve takes another sip of his drink and gives himself a few minutes, Sam keeps talking, but Steve is no longer listening to the conversation, it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s just, Bucky hasn’t looked like that in a while, not for a few months, and Steve knows that Bucky needs space when he looks like that, but more than anything he wants to wrap his arms around him and hold Bucky close.

Sam tells a joke and Maria laughs so hard she spills some wine of Sam’s shirt. Apologising profusely, her hand rests on Sam’s elbow and she steers him through the people towards the bathroom. Steve remains where he is, downs the rest of his glass and as he looks up, Bucky is in front of him, and it makes sense now, Maria isn’t clumsy, she did it on purpose, she wanted to give them space, and Steve isn’t sure how he feels about that yet.

“Steve, can, can I talk to you for a sec?” Bucky asks tentatively. His voice is quiet, barely heard over the music and the chatter surrounding them, but standing here in the corner there isn’t anyone really all that close, expect for Nat who has her back against the wall and Clint’s hands on her hips, his mouth latched onto hers, and Steve is only a little jealous of her, he knows that his night won’t end up like hers.

“Sure.” Steve nods.

“Well I just, I uh, well-” Bucky starts, tripping over the words, he isn’t sure what he wants to say, not really, he doesn’t know what to get out, he can’t get the words out, can’t get out what he wants to say, what he wants to ask, because like Steve, sometimes he thinks that not knowing is better than knowing.

Bucky’s not drunk, he’s only had two drinks, both of which were immediately following the conversation that he overheard in the kitchen, the conversation that he knew he shouldn’t have wanted to stick around and eavesdrop on, and he didn’t, he had left straight away. The thought of there being a guy in Steve’s life, a guy that he loves, a guy that he hasn’t even mentioned to Bucky, makes Bucky sick. Has he changed that much since the accident that Steve doesn’t trust him anymore, when did he stop telling him things, when did they stop being able to rely on each other for everything, Bucky hadn’t noticed the shift in their relationship, he still isn’t sure it even happened. But Steve is in love with some guy and he hadn’t even mentioned it to Bucky, so whether Bucky is aware of the shift in their relationship or not, it must have happened. He doesn’t realise that he has still paused, that he has zoned out, staring at Steve, locked in his head.

Steve waits another few seconds, trying to read Bucky’s expression, trying to figure out what has Bucky locked in his head. Bucky is still staring at him, his eyes meeting Steve’s and if he keeps looking at him like this, Steve won’t be able to stop himself for telling him, kissing him, so instead, he says, “Spit it out Buck.”

Bucky’s eyes snap to the ground before he sighs, runs his hand over his face and breathes, “I overheard you and Nat in the kitchen.” It’s said so quietly that Steve is sure he heard it wrong, but when Bucky’s grey blue eyes meet his, Steve knows he hadn’t misheard, and he feels his heart break.

“Oh.” Steve breathes. God, does Bucky know, did he mention Bucky specifically, he must have, Bucky’s expression looks so pained, he must have overheard him mention him, oh god, Steve is going to be sick.

“I don’t know why you don’t think you can talk to me about this guy.” Bucky sighs, staring up at Steve. He is trying to understand, trying to make sense of all this, but Steve is staring down at Bucky with alarming uncertainty and surprise and it is throwing Bucky off.

“Who?”

Bucky sighs again, and looks up at Steve, his eyes pleading, he knows this isn’t the time nor the place, but he cannot work out why Steve didn’t tell him, didn’t mention it, and by the looks of the shock covering Steve’s face, he had little to no intention of ever mentioning it. Bucky’s voice is barely audible as he says, “The guy you aren’t good enough for, the guy you love. You’ve talked about him to Nat and Sam, and I, do you feel like you can’t tell me these things?”

“Uh…” Steve starts, he doesn’t know what to say, there is nothing he can say to this, nothing he can say that isn’t, ‘I love you;, which is on the tip of his tongue threatening to slip out, and he can’t tell him, because, well just because, but the way that Bucky is looking at him right now, he can’t let this continue.

He can’t let Bucky think that he doesn’t want to talk to him about this sort of thing, because it isn’t Bucky, it’s not, but it entirely is. The one person he wants to tell more than anybody, the one person who he talks to about stuff like this, is the one person that he can’t tell, and the way that Bucky is chewing on the corner on his mouth, looking nervous, looking almost desperate, Steve has to say something.

“You’ve spent enough time with this guy to love him and you’ve never even mentioned him to me. I mean is it…”

“It’s you.” Steve says weakly.

“I thought as much.” Bucky sighs. He pauses, chews on the corner of his mouth, his eyes on the floor as he looks so wrecked, so, fuck, Steve is really going to throw up now. “Do you think I don’t care? You know you can tell me anything..” and it hits Steve that Bucky is thinking that Steve didn’t tell him about this guy not because the guy is Bucky, but because Steve doesn’t trust or want to tell Bucky or whatever, and Steve can barely breathe right now, the look on Bucky’s face, he looks so sad and so, Steve isn’t sure and Steve cannot let this continue.

“No not like that. It’s you!” Steve cuts across and Bucky blinks at him lamely, still not quite getting it. “You’re the guy!” Steve yells, and he swears to god, the song finished seconds before he opened his god damn mouth, and the talking paused for a moment, and now the whole room is staring at them, Natasha has even pried her mouth from Clint’s neck, and is staring over at Steve, a smile on her lips, but Steve doesn’t see any of this, he can’t, he is far too focused on the look of Bucky’s face. He watches for disgust, he watches Bucky’s body expecting him to take a step backwards, he doesn’t expect the look of shock to give way to a grin, or for Bucky to stare at him, with increasing incredibility.

“What?” Bucky asks, it’s the only thing that he can say, the only thing that he is able to push out, he just stares at Steve, with an expression that Steve isn’t sure what to make of.

Steve wants more than anything for the world to stop, the ground to swallow him whole, but neither happens, so without any escape plan, he commits to the moment and says, “It’s you Buck.”

Bucky is still staring at Steve, thoughts are flicking over Bucky’s face but they are moving too fast, there one second and gone the next and Steve cannot pull them apart, he has no idea what Bucky is thinking. Steve doesn’t know what to say, there isn’t anything more he can say, and the next song has started and people are slowly starting to talk around them, letting them have some privacy, but Steve doesn’t even really notice, he is too busy watching Bucky, waiting, his thoughts colliding inside of his own head, and he wonders if he can take it back, if he should run, if he should-

“You, uh, you don’t think you’re good enough for me?”

Steve sighs, of course that is what Bucky is focusing on right now, not on the fact that Steve just inadvertently told him that he loves him, he is focusing on the fact that Steve doesn’t think he’s good enough for Bucky, which seems to shock Bucky even more than the confession.

“God, how could you even think that?” Bucky asks, his eyes raking Steve’s expression, he isn’t smiling anymore, but the smile still lingers, forgotten, as he stares at Steve wondering why on earth he could even think for a second that he wasn’t good enough for Bucky, it was the other way round, Steve was- “You’re amazing, you’re perfect, you’re, you’re too good for me.” Bucky adds, his tone tight and sincere. He’s so nervous and it makes Steve want to laugh at the ridiculousness of this all.

Steve’s breath catches, and it all makes sense, and he can’t not say it, he can’t not tell Buck, he no longer cares, not with Bucky looking at him like this, not with Bucky telling him that’s Steve is too good for him, because that means, that means… god Steve can barely think, he no longer cares for the consequences, he has to tell him, he has to.

“I love you.” Steve breathes, and god, those words, those three words coming out of his mouth, directed at Bucky, it feels so right, feels so perfect, and he doesn’t care that almost everyone is staring, he doesn’t care that this is not the way that he wanted to tell him, doesn’t care about anything right now because Bucky isn’t backing away, no, he is actually taking a small step forward, he isn’t staring at him in disgust, he is grinning, grinning like a maniac and even though Steve is a bundle of nervous energy, he feels his lips curling and before he even realises it, he is smiling down at Bucky.

Bucky’s eyes flick up, then he smirks, Steve knows that smirk and he follows Bucky’s gaze and he can’t help but laugh. No wonder Maria left him where he was standing, if Bucky came over with them here, the two of them would go to talk somewhere else, but here, hanging right above them is mistletoe, and as Steve looks at Bucky, Bucky is another step closer, and Steve finds that his hands have already settled on Bucky’s hips without his permission.

“You know what Stevie?” Bucky breathes.

“What?”

“I love you too.” Bucky grins, and Steve’s heart stops. The way that Bucky is looking at him, those four words that he just uttered, both are rendering Steve in absolute shock, and Steve-

Bucky kisses Steve, not wanting to wait another second, and it’s a little desperate at first, Bucky’s palms holding Steve’s face, crushing his lips against his. Their kiss deepens and Bucky’s lips are caressing and tugging at Steve’s. Steve moans into it, Bucky tastes like everything he loves, and as Bucky’s tongue slips between Steve’s lips and his teeth graze his bottom lip, Steve is kissing Bucky back with everything he has, like his entire life was leading up to this one moment. He doesn’t care that around people are cheering, he doesn’t care that Nat loudly sighs, “Finally”, because Bucky is kissing him back just as desperately, because Bucky loves him, because Bucky lips are against his, and all Steve knows is how Bucky tastes and how his body feels pushed against his.

“God, I love you.” Bucky breathes, his forehead pressed against Steve’s as they gasp for air, and Steve cannot think, he can barely breathe, not when he notices that Bucky’s fingers are hooked on the back of his jeans, not when Bucky aligns their hips and kisses him again, and he realises that Bucky is just as hard as he is.

“Should we-” Bucky asks, his lips hovering above Steve’s now, Steve isn’t sure what he means, but then he remembers where they are, and he looks down at his hands, his fingers on Bucky’s belt, the buckle already undone. Around them the party, their party is still happening, but Steve couldn’t care less about the party, and as he bites into his bottom lip and looks down at Bucky, Bucky rolls his eyes and grins, and he does up his buckle and takes a step backwards.

“I’ve waited almost two decades Buck.” Steve almost whines, his head reaching out to latch onto Bucky’s wrist, and Bucky just smirks.

“So you can wait another few hours.” Bucky smirks, and he takes another step back, he looks so pleased, fucking elated and Steve knows that’s because of him, but god, he can’t have Bucky teasing him across the room for the next few hours, not now he knows how Bucky feels about him. He goes to say something else, but an idea pops into his head, and Steve’s eyes stay locked with Bucky’s as he stops frowning and begins to smile.

“What?” Bucky asks, he knows that look, he knows that playful smirk that is curling Steve’s lips and is making his eyes twinkles, and he knows that mischievous things will follow, so he takes another step back in anticipation. Steve is grinning at him and Bucky is pretty sure that he will like where this is going, perhaps not initially…

“Steve!” Bucky shouts as Steve’s arms wrap around him and before Bucky knows what is happening, Steve is throwing him over his shoulder, his hand on the small of his back as he pats him consoling and Bucky groans. Bucky may be slung over Steve’s shoulder but he knows that the entire room is looking at them, but instead of caring, he wriggles and pouts, “Put me down you big oaf!”

Steve is laughing as he carries Bucky past the kitchen and towards his bedroom, and Bucky’s arms are grabbing at Steve trying to get him to loosen his grip, he groans as he does so and pointedly ignores Steve’s laughter. The music is kicking in as Steve kicks his bedroom door shut behind him and he can still hear Nat’s hysterical laughter, and he knows she will never let him live this one down, but he does not care, not even a little bit. Bucky is still wriggling, as he says, “Put me down.”

“As you wish.” Steve replies, as he drops Bucky down onto his bed and Bucky gasps, more of shock than anything else.

“Did you just quote…” Bucky trails off, Steve grins, and Bucky’s heart flutters. Bucky stays on his back and looks up at Steve who is suddenly unsure of himself, he knew that he wanted to do that without even thinking, but now here in his bedroom, he isn’t sure, but Bucky is giving that look that Steve loves and is so used to as Bucky sighs, “Was that really necessary?”

“Totally.” Steve grins, he remains where he is.

“You’re an idiot.” Bucky smiles affectionately and he clambers to his knees and shuffles forward, grabbing a handful of Steve’s shirt and pulling him towards him. Not expecting it Steve falls forward, squishing Bucky against the bed, but Bucky doesn’t mind, he presses his lips against Steve’s and the soft sigh travelling up Steve’s throat becomes a moan as Bucky nibbles on his lips and his fingertips dig into Steve’s skin, needing to touch every inch of him.

“You’re my idiot.” Bucky says breathlessly, flipping them as he kisses Steve’s jaw, and Steve misses his lips against his, but as Bucky kisses a trail down his neck, the sigh of displeasure turns into a moan as Bucky stops at the base of his neck and leaves his mark on Steve, claiming him and god, Steve has never wanted to be anyone else’s.

“How could you think you’re not good enough for me?” Bucky mutters against skin a few minutes later, as he tilts his head, inspecting the mark he left on Steve’s skin again.

Steve’s sigh turns into a quiet moan as Bucky rolls his hips against Steve’s and he manages to stutter out, “Cause you’re you Bucky, you’re just so-”

“God, baby you’re perfect, you’re too good, you’re everything…” Bucky breathes, his eyes running over Steve, and Steve feels more naked than he’s ever been, he is still fully clothed, but with Bucky’s eyes on him, looking at everything, and Steve knows that he can see everything, everything and he is smile is so soft, his look so loving and as much as Steve wants him to continue, he can’t listen to more, he needs Bucky’s lips on him, right now, so he crashes their lips together, their noses pressed together as Steve licks his way into Bucky’s mouth, needing more of him, needing to taste him.

Flipping them over, Steve grins, pushing Bucky’s body down against the bed, Steve can feel the moan that works its way up Bucky’s throat and as he claims Bucky’s mouth, his hand is pressed against Bucky’s hip, and he suddenly remembers how many layers of clothing are between them, and it’s too much…

“Bu-uck.” The word isn’t meant to come out in two halves, but as Bucky rolls his hips again, the word breaks and it sounds less like a word, more like a prayer.

Bucky grins and kisses Steve again, his kisses hungry and desperate and he mutters against Steve’s lips, “Yeah baby”

Not wanting to pull his lips from Bucky’s, Steve kisses him back, his hands roaming, his skin on fire, and suddenly he can’t wait any longer. Pulling his lips from Bucky’s his weight resting on his elbow he smiles down at Bucky as he says his voice as gravely as he can manage, “Do I have to wait till Christmas to unwrap you?”

Bucky lets out a breath and his eyes widen for a moment, his lips parting and then he drags his tongue across his bottom lip teasingly, making sure that Steve’s eyes cannot look anywhere else he rolls his bottom lip with his teeth before he answers, “Yes.”

“What?” Steve asks, caught completely off guard, he did not expect this to back fire at all. Staring down at Bucky, completely frozen, Steve sees Bucky start to smirk, the curling of his mouth and the way his eyes light up. Blue eyes flick over to the bedside table and Steve follows, he lets out a puff of air and he smiles, gives a soft laugh as he reads the clock, 11:59.

He shouldn’t be surprised, Bucky is still Bucky, and he is grinning up at him as Steve’s gaze is fixed on the clock, willing time to move faster, needing it to be Christmas already, he’s impatient, not wanting to wait a single second.

“Merry Christmas!” Sam shouts, and their guests cheer and yell it each other, their sounds muffled by the door. The party is still very much continuing, but not even a little part of Steve wishes that he was out there with them, not a single cell.

Fingers wrap around the back of Steve’s neck, and Bucky pulls his lips towards his, lets them hover above his as he breathes, “Merry Christmas baby.” Bucky pulls Steve towards him but Steve doesn’t budge, so Bucky lifts his head, moving his lips towards Steve’s, but Steve pulls back. Bucky freezes, isn’t sure what changed but Steve doesn’t pull away much further, instead he smirks, his fingers brushing against the bottom of Bucky’s shirt, pushing it up inch by inch, his eyes hungrily eyeing Bucky as another centimetre of skin is revealed.

Bucky’s shirt on the floor, Steve’s quickly follows, and Steve hovers on Bucky, not able to take his eyes off him, now he can stare at him, now that he can look, he lets out a low whistle and Bucky hits him, his cheeks blushing.

“God you’re beautiful.” Steve sighs. He wants to kiss Bucky everywhere, he wants his jeans, that Steve has been wanting to peel Bucky out of ever since he bought them three years ago, to join his shirt on the floor beside the bed, and he so desperately wants to kiss Bucky again. Torn, he can’t decide, but Bucky decides for him, his fingers wrap around the back of his neck again, and he pulls Steve lips towards them without hesitation, crashing their lips together and moaning at the contact. Bucky squirms underneath Steve as his lips tug and caress Bucky’s and Bucky murmurs incoherently as Steve starts to trail kisses across his jaw and down his neck, just like Bucky had done minutes ago.

Steve is grinning as he does so, glancing up at Bucky through his lashes every few kisses, loving the way Bucky’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip and he is staring down at Steve, not taking his eyes off him, like if he does for a second moment he will lose him and this will all fall to pieces around them, a dream… The words Bucky murmurs aren’t all English, and Steve loves how he is eliciting this sort of reaction, some of the words he knows, some languages his recognises, and as his lips reach the top of Bucky’s jeans, Bucky’s murmuring gives way to a desperate plea, “Steve.”

Notes:

Merry Christmas to you all :)
This work is completely unbeta'd so mistakes are mine and mine alone. I only had the idea to do this fic a few days ago so it is a little rushed, but I wanted to get this up before Christmas, I hope you like it all the same.
Come visit me on tumblr if you feel so inclined.

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