Work Text:
Bucky looks at the Stark employees hanging mistletoe in various places. They're finishing up the decorations for tonight's party. Everyone spent Christmas on their own - well not really on their own, but it wasn't always with other avengers - but New Year's Eve will be spent with everyone at the tower. Stark insisted, probably on Pepper's orders.
In any case, nearly everyone will be there. Thor is coming with Brunhilde and Loki, Clint is coming with his family, Scott too, Peter is coming with his aunt… there are going to be lots of people, including kids.
From the corner of his eye, Bucky sees Bruce inspecting the decorations. He waves at the man and the scientist returns the gesture.
The two employees change locations and put another bouquet of mistletoe in the middle of the room. Bucky frowns then counts all the spots where the parasite is hung. That's already the fourth; it's a lot. But then, it's Stark after all. Bucky shrugs then goes back to looking at the employees- discreetly, he doesn't want to freak them out.
Bucky has a strange relationship with mistletoe. When he was a kid, he liked it a lot, because that was a sign of relative wealth. At almost thirteen years old, he liked it too, but for a different reason. Holidays from 1929 to 1930 were the first time he and Steve kissed. It had happened when his family and Steve's mom had been outside, just before the two boys joined them on the balcony after the countdown.
They had passed together under the mistletoe, only realising they were under it after they had halted. They had seen it at the same time, and the next second their lips had been touching. Bucky doesn't remember who initiated it, thank you scrambled brain, but the memory is a fond one. He remembers something short, but the kiss had been on the lips and not on the cheek like they had done a few times the years before that. Twins hurried Happy New Year, beaming smiles, and they had joined everyone on the fire escape.
Then mistletoe was something bitter as he grew up. The memory from 30's eve coming to mind every time he saw the plant, frustration with it because he couldn't kiss Steve and did not understand why he wanted to.
Then he grew up some more, puberty hit, he understood the urge he felt and, after he and Steve realised what they had both done that winter day, tried to banish it. It more or less - less - worked until the war, when suddenly his relationship with Steve shifted and they took comfort in each other frequently.
Bucky smiles as the memories from 44's New year's eve came to mind. France had been liberated months before that, and they had had a few days of leave here and there. Their last location being the south east of the country, they had joined Dernier in his city. The exact location, even the context - was it friends, family? A house of city building? - is hazy in his mind, but he remembers the mistletoe. A big bouquet had been hanging on the front door, and a smaller one in another room. Just like in 30, for the first few minutes of 45 they had been separated from the group of people they'd been celebrating with. But unlike that first kiss, that one had been intentional. It had also been longer, and much more passionate.
And it had led to something else entirely.
Bucky smiles, memories from what had followed in mind. As he remembers the sweat, their moans and the feel of the sheet under his skin, he hears familiar footsteps approaching him. He cocks his head, subtly indicating he knows who coming, and moment later arms circle his waist.
“What gotcha smiling like that?” Steve asks, nuzzling his neck.
“New Year’s Eve from 44.”
Steve’s lips part on a smile. “I see why.”
Bucky turns and pecks Steve on the lips. “You needed me?”
“I always do.”
“Sap”
“But yes, actually. Come with me?”
It’s only for something small, but his attention is away from the mistletoe after that.
Bucky’s gaze doesn’t land on any of the bouquets the entire evening. He’s actually enjoying himself more than he would; with kids and families of several Avengers, it’s just them, no outsiders, so Bucky is able to stay relaxed - as much as he can anyway.
Midnight has just rung when Steve takes his hand and leads them a few steps from where they were counting down. He stops then points up with his index. Bucky looks up and here is the biggest bouquet of mistletoe in the room. He lets his gaze fall back on Steve who is beaming now, and grabs him by the neck. Steve comes willingly and curls his arms around Bucky’s neck.
Their kiss is not rushed, even has a bit of tongue - not too much, they have little eyes around - but most important of all, not stolen. They’re in the middle of the room, it’s a new year in a new century and they’re free to be themselves.