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Peter first notices it at the start of October. He doesn’t mean to, he wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, but his enhanced senses are great at betraying other people’s boundaries. And they're always on high alert when it comes to Bucky.
He drops his heavy backpack on the floor by the door, kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket. The weather is slowly transitioning into his least favourite season. Winter used to be great when he could thermoregulate properly, now it’s an ice filled hell-hole disguised in twinkling lights.
Classes dragged on today, and he was stuck in a meeting with the worst possible advisor for his upcoming thesis, Doctor Octavius. He was a nice enough guy as a professor, Peter had enjoyed his classes last year, but he’s stubborn when it comes to Peter’s new ideas and can be inflexible with draft deadlines. If Peter could get headaches, he would have a pulsing migraine after today.
Peter slogs into the living room with a sigh, spotting his boyfriend already lounging on the couch with a book in his lap. Peter makes no attempt to hide his whine, quickly replacing the battered copy of Lord of the Rings in Bucky’s lap with himself.
Bucky doesn’t ask. Peter loves that about him. They never need to ask.
Bucky’s metal arm wraps around Peter’s waist on instinct, the other one rubbing up and down Peter’s arm.
“Thanks,” Peter breathes into Bucky’s neck, letting the scent of Bucky’s cologne calm him down. It’s almost eight-thirty and he hasn’t eaten all day, having back to back lectures and then a seminar that was rearranged since the TA caught the flu ruining his chance of grabbing lunch. “Can we order pizza?”
“Whatever you want,” Bucky says, shifting to get into a more comfortable position on the tiny couch.
Since they moved in together last year they’ve talked constantly about replacing some of Bucky’s old furniture he’d inherited from Steve, which he calls pre-loved, for something both of them can fit more comfortably on. They always forget, though, content to curl together on the two-seater not designed for a super-soldier.
Peter pulls his head away from Bucky’s neck to give him a quick peck on the cheek and grabs his phone from his back pocket.
Peter laughs once UberEats opens, “Dude, they’re already doing a Halloween discount. It’s not for another three weeks.”
It’s slight but Peter feels it.
Bucky freezes, his breath hitching in his throat. It’s gone before Peter can comment on it, and Peter glances around the room to see what may have spooked him. There’s nothing new about their place, no bird in the window that could have startled him.
“You okay?” he asks, brows knitting together in concern.
Bucky gives an easy smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, “Pepperoni for me,” he says and gives Peter’s arm a squeeze as if that’s the end of it. It’s not.
It happens again the following Saturday. They’re out buying groceries, Peter pushing the cart and Bucky, the chef amongst the pair, fills it with things he doesn’t trust Peter to cook. As much as Bucky loves him, Peter is a hazard. Peter is aware. It's for the best. He lets out some excited noises when Bucky buys the good steak. He’s been grabbing ramen at the school convenience store when he needed food this week and had been too busy to eat properly at home. Now it's the weekend he plans to enjoy the full fruits of his boyfriend's labour. Bucky grins at Peter's hungry expression, grabbing extra and earning a big kiss on the cheek even though they're in public.
Bucky doesn’t eat a lot of candy but Peter does. And Bucky is soft on Peter. So, they always end up in the confectionery aisle, Peter happily dumping bags of gummy worms into the cart whilst Bucky watches fondly, tutting in a way that is anything but critical.
Peter pauses after the fifth bag, looking at Bucky for approval. “Should we grab something for the trick-or-treaters?”
Bucky freezes again. He turns it into a shrug, looking anywhere but his boyfriend. He’s already donned a black cap to obscure his face, he hates being recognised, and Peter can’t catch any of his expression.
"For Halloween," Peter clarifies, watching him worriedly.
“Up to you,” he says, voice stiff. “You can give it out if you want.”
Peter raises an eyebrow. “You don’t want to?”
Bucky shrugs again and mumbles something about almond milk. He’s already darted off before Peter can ask. Weird.
They hadn’t spent Halloween together last year. Peter had been invited to a party at school and Bucky was more than enthusiastic about him going, saying that he doesn’t really celebrate Halloween. They’d spent the next day together, anyway, and that was that. Peter hadn’t thought much about it, it hadn’t seemed suspicious then.
But now he thinks Bucky really does have some weird thing about Halloween.
Peter chews on the end of his pen, sitting at the coffee table scribbling notes from his textbook whilst Bucky works on his own laptop on the couch. There’s been two more strange incidents since the supermarket incident and Halloween is only a week away.
“Bucky,” Peter begins, pulling the pen from between his teeth. “What’s the big deal with Halloween?”
Bucky doesn’t look up, still typing. “What?”
“Are you like, I don’t know, scared of pumpkins or something?”
Bucky peers over his screen, a smirk ghosting his lips. “Scared of pumpkins? Seriously?”
Peter shrugs. “You just get all weird about Halloween, I don’t know.”
“I do not get weird about Halloween,” Bucky says defensively, raising an eyebrow.
“Fine,” Peter nods, “then let’s go out and celebrate. Where do you want to go?”
Bucky’s face drops.
“Ha!” Peter says triumphantly, pushing himself up from the floor. He perches on the arm of the sofa, folding his arms. “You do have some weird thing.”
Bucky grimaces. “I just… don’t like it. It’s not a big deal.”
“But you could at least tell me why if it’s not a-”
The kitchen timer saves Bucky, who doesn’t bother trying to hide the relief on his face.
“Fine!” Peter yells after him. “Keep your secrets!”
By the time they eat dinner, Peter’s mouth watering after the first bite of chicken parmesan, all is seemingly forgiven. They don’t bring it up again and fall into each other’s arms when it’s time to sleep, as usual. Peter forgets about it, almost.
Peter stumbles inside on the final night of the month all partied out and bones like ice from the harsh weather outside. It’s just past two and he expects his boyfriend to be asleep, but when he steps into their small home the lamp by the television is still on and Bucky’s sitting on the couch, typing away on his phone. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Peter and jumps up, stretching.
Peter is shivering and lets Bucky pull him into a tight hug. God, he hates the cold.
“Have a good time?” Bucky asks, pressing a kiss to Peter’s frozen forehead.
Peter whimpers at the warm touch, sliding his hands into Bucky’s sweater and stealing his warmth.
“What’re you doing up?” he asks, tiredly.
“Just wanted to make sure you got home safe,” Bucky says, honestly. “There are idiots out there on Halloween.”
Peter pouts, looking up at his boyfriend. He could point out the fact that he has literal super powers, there's no need to worry, but he knows it's how Bucky shows his love. So he really doesn't mind after all.
Peter has no idea what he looks like right now, he’s fairly sure one of his classmates drew some sort of skull on his cheek at the beginning of the night but it must have melted into smudges by now. He scrubs at his cheek with one hand and it comes away with a smudge of black.
“You should have come,” he mumbles sleepily, “even if you hate Halloween. You could have come for me.”
“It's the costumes,” Bucky says simply and Peter freezes, mind going blank. "We'll go out after your midterms, okay?"
“The costumes?” he repeats.
Bucky nods, using his thumb to wipe away the remainder of black on Peter’s skin. “You should take a-”
“Costumes,” Peter repeats again.
Bucky sighs, “It’s stupid, Pete.”
“Maybe if you explain it to me I won’t think it’s stupid.”
Bucky nods, resigned, both hands settling on Peter’s hips. He’s stopped shivering, but barely. He struggles for a minute, opening and closing his mouth as though the words just won’t come out.
“Costumes, right?” he starts, nervously. Peter nods along, wrapping his arms around Bucky. “In the last few years there’s been a lot of… superhero costumes.”
“You hate superheroes,” Peter guesses, voice flat.
Bucky glares. “I’m dating you, aren’t I? No. I don’t hate superheroes.”
Peter nods. “Oh. Right. Yeah.”
“I saw a kid dressed as Spider-Man a few days ago,” Bucky says, quietly. “And… ever since I came back they’re just everywhere. Captain America, Iron Man, the Hulk. It’s like as time goes on there’s more and more options, I don’t blame the kids, you know.”
Peter nods but understands nothing. “O..kay?”
“And I’d never want some kid in a Winter Soldier costume, alright? I’d never want that to happen. The Winter Soldier did horrible things and it’s not something anyone should ever look up to. It's not even something funny to be a villain about, it's fucked, Peter.”
Peter’s chest aches. “Bucky,” he says, softly.
“Peter,” Bucky says, a sad look in his eyes. “I'll always be... him. The guy who was the Winter Soldier. I can't change what I was. I can't take the costume off. And when I see the kids, I know it’s just harmless, but it just shows me the divide is still there and will always be there. I'm not the same as the rest of you. I’ll always be the bad guy.”
Peter reaches up and pulls Bucky down by the neck. Their lips touch softly and Bucky lets out a broken exhale, posture relaxing into Peter’s hold. Peter pulls away until they’re just a centimetre apart.
“You’re the best person I know, Bucky,” he says, cupping Bucky’s cheek. “It’s a stupid holiday.”
“You’re allowed to like it, Peter,” Bucky smiles gratefully. “I don’t mind. I’d just prefer to avoid it. If that's okay?”
Peter returns the smile. “More than okay. I love you. Thanks for telling me. Now I know.”
Bucky nods, thumb brushing against Peter’s exposed skin. He’s still cold.
“Now you know,” he repeats, voice soft and tender. “How about we get you a nice and warm shower and get in bed? Don't want you freezing out here.”
“God, yes please,” Peter says, practically dragging Bucky towards the bathroom. “It’s so cold outside. Why did it have to be in October? Like I said, it’s a stupid holiday.”
“It is stupid,” Bucky laughs, closing the bathroom door behind them.