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Natasha poured the hot water into the mugs, stirring the contents until all of the brown powder dissolved and the scent of cocoa wafted through the air. She reached for the bottle of brown liquor, pouring heavily in the black one and a shot in the red one. Several marshmallows for the red and whipped cream for the black, drizzle of chocolate sauce and one candy cane each later, she picked them up and walked to the living room where Bucky was decorating the tree.
“Hot cocoa?” she smiled softly, holding out the black mug to him then taking a sip of her own when he took it.
“Thanks Nat,” he smiled, taking his own sip before turning back to the tree, “the lights at least work.”
Natasha hummed as she took another sip, walking over to the record player, smirking slightly as she turned it on and moved the needle in place.
“You know they make updated ways to listen to music,” she mused, as the music started. “And isn’t Doris Day a bit new-age for you?”
Bucky snorted and set his cup down. “She’s got a nice voice,” he murmured as he bent down to pull out the stand of crystal beads. “Besides, there aren’t many Christmas records out there from the 1940s. And this is one of the few non-traditional Christmas songs I like.”
“What’s wrong with the ones that were written in this century?” She made her way back over towards Bucky and sat on the couch, holding her cup in her lap as she watched him.
“Not a fan.”
“Not a fan?”
He nodded, working his way back and forth on the tree, draping the garland before standing back and grimaced.
“It looks fine, James,” Natasha added reassuringly.
He pulled a face and shrugged. “It’s our first Christmas.”
“Technically it’s our eighth,” Natasha countered, reaching for his hand, her warm fingers wrapping around his metal wrist and pulled. He didn’t resist and placed his knee on the couch next to her thigh.
“Sure, but it’s our first one together where we don’t have to worry about being caught.” His hand moved to hold hers, bringing it up to his lips to place a kiss to the inside of her wrist before placing another on her palm. “Can you blame me for wanting it to be perfect, including the tree?”
“You hate uniformity,” she smiled, her fingers curling to brush the whiskers of his more than grown out stubble. “I thought we could just place things where we feel is right.”
He pressed her hand to his jaw, closing his eyes as a smile stretched across his own face. “Alright, we’ll do it your way, but first…” He pulled back and stood, pulling on her hand, making her stand with him. His hand never let hers go but his other reached around and rested against her lower back. “Dance with me.” He gave her a boyish smile as Silver Bells started to play.
“You are such a romantic, James,” she laughed, stretching to put down her mug. “And always an excuse to dance.”
“Nah, dancing is just an excuse to have you in my arms for a length of time,” he replied, leaning in to give her a soft kiss to her lips.