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Christmas usually wasn't a big deal for Bucky.
There were a few reasons for this; first off, he was raised Jewish. They'd do Hanukkah every year and pretty much ignore the Christian holiday, his ma usually having to fight tooth and nail to get time off for their holidays. Then when she passed and Becca moved to California not two weeks later, Bucky stopped those celebrations, too. Because honestly, what's the point of celebrating a holiday if there's no one to celebrate with?
Another reason Bucky doesn't do Christmas is that the holiday is so annoying. The constant carols played in coffee shops and supermarkets, the little choir groups that go door to door and sing off-key, the gaudy decorations, the blow-up Santa dolls in people's front yards.
Yeah. Bucky doesn't like Christmas.
Steve Rogers, on the other hand, loves Christmas.
Bucky only finds out when, on December 1st, he comes home to find a Christmas tree twice his size taking up half of their living room.
Bucky moved in with Steve back in February, when the lease on his old place was up and he was sick of his creepy landlord's attempts to get in his pants. Steve had put an ad out in the newspaper, of all places, and Bucky had only come across it because one of his co-workers had left the paper open at the nurse's station and he'd happened to glance at it during a quiet period between clients. Steve's place was a moderately-sized two-bedroom apartment in Bushwick, with a bathroom that could fit maybe two people in it at the most and pipes that sound like murder victims when it's particularly cold.
It was a hell of a lot nicer than Bucky's old place, and the eye candy that was Steven Grant Rogers didn't hurt, either.
So, after ten months of cohabitation with possibly the best roommate Bucky's ever had, it's a bit of a shock when he walks headfirst into a pine tree after a ten-hour shift in the ER.
"Hey, Buck," he hears Steve call cheerfully from somewhere in the kitchen once he's managed to detangle himself from the tree.
Bucky turns towards him, mouth open in either an attempt to voice his bewilderment or to spit out the pine needles, he's not entirely sure - and completely forgets everything he's ever done or said when he sees Steve.
Who's wearing a Christmas sweater in a truly shocking shade of green, a toy reindeer sticky-taped to the front.
(The sweater is also several sizes too small, which doesn't help Bucky keep his eyes off the straining fabric at Steve's shoulders and biceps.)
"Steve," Bucky manages to say. "What the fuck?"
Steve beams, doing a little spin to show off more of his sweater. There's a little deer tail at the bottom of the sweater (which only reaches to the small of Steve's back, showing off a very attractive strip of skin between the sweater and his jeans).
"What do you think?"
Bucky can only gape at him, still barely able to comprehend the scene in front of him. He's exhausted and stinky and probably has blood on his pants, and Steve's here making what is probably the ugliest sweater in existence look attractive.
"I'm having a shower," Bucky finally says, and quickly turns tail and almost runs to the bathroom.
----
It doesn't stop, is the thing.
Bucky could maybe convince himself that the encounter with reindeer-Steve and the tree was a weird culmination of a long shift and the Christmas spirit that's been shoved down his throat since Thanksgiving ended. But no, the tree's still up when he comes out of the shower, and it's still there when he wakes up on his day off.
"Decorate with me?" Steve asks when Bucky's trying to catch up on Real Housewives.
"No," Bucky replies, not taking his eyes off the TV.
"Please?" Steve's doing the puppy eyes. Bucky knows it.
"Absolutely not."
Don't look, Barnes.
"Please, Buck?"
Damnit, Bucky has to look. Fuck, he's gone on this man.
And he can't say no to that face.
"...Fine."
The smile on Steve's face almost makes up for the way Bucky's hands swell up from the pine needles after an hour and a half of decorating.
------
The tree isn't the end of it, either.
On December 10th, Bucky wakes up to the smell of gingerbread.
"I didn't even know you could bake," Bucky says sleepily as he makes his way into the kitchen. Steve's standing at the bench, oven mitts shaped like snowmen on his hands as he places the cookies on a cooling rack. His sweater has a Santa wearing fishnets on it, the words HOE HOE HOE written underneath.
"I can't," Steve replies cheerfully. "These are from the freezer section at Walmart."
Bucky rolls his eyes and walks over, hoisting himself onto the bench. "If you do a grocery run for me, I'll make you proper gingerbread."
Steve doesn't respond for a couple of seconds. He's looking at Bucky with a strange expression on his face, one that Bucky can't completely read.
"What?" Bucky finally asks. Steve just shrugs, still smiling.
"Nothing. 'S just... you look good in my clothes."
Bucky blinks and looks down at himself. He's wearing an oversized shirt and his boxers - the same thing he always wears to bed. "These are my clothes."
"You stole that shirt from me a few months ago," Steve replies, still with that weirdly fond look in his eyes.
"Oh." Bucky feels his cheeks heat up. "Sorry - I'll give it back."
"No, don't," Steve says, his lips curved into a sweet smile. "It looks better on you anyway."
Bucky doesn't know what to say to that, so just stares at Steve like an idiot until Steve throws a pen and paper at him and tells him to write a shopping list.
----
The gingerbread actually turns out pretty good, considering Steve's propensity to accidentally set things on fire in the kitchen. Steve packed him a few for work, even, and Bucky's nibbling away at the foot of a gingerbread man as he updates files at the nurse's station. He's maybe halfway through a twelve-hour shift; it's a bright if freezing day, the sun high in the sky and the sidewalks glistening with semi-fresh snow.
Bucky's drawn out of his musings by Sharon choking on her coffee next to him, and when he looks up to check on her he almost jumps out of his skin. Steve's standing in front of him, a grin on his face and a Starbucks cup in each hand. His sweater today has a Christmas tree with live fairy lights sewn into it, flashing merrily around the words YOU TURN ME ON in the centre of his chest.
"Where are you finding these sweaters?" Bucky can't help but ask.
"Etsy," Steve replies cheerfully, leaning on the nurse's station and holding out one of the cups. "Got you coffee."
Bucky gladly takes the cup from him, taking a large sip, and his eyes widen as the flavour hits his tongue.
"This is good - what is it?"
"Caramel brulée latte," Steve says, taking a sip of his own drink. "From the Starbucks Christmas range. Thought you'd like it."
Bucky takes another sip with a hum, his eyes fluttering closed. "What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be at work?"
Steve shrugs, his cheeks going a bit pink. "I'm on break."
"So you decided to make the trek halfway across Brooklyn to bring me coffee?" Bucky asks. There's a warm feeling in his stomach that has nothing to do with the drink.
Steve's face becomes redder, and he shrugs again, his lips quirking up. "You're worth it."
Bucky doesn't know how to respond to that; his cheeks feel hot and that warm feeling in his stomach has just doubled in intensity, and he wants nothing more than to haul Steve over the counter and kiss him silly. In the end, he just says, "Oh," like an idiot.
"I'll see you tonight," Steve says, like he hasn't just given Bucky the emotional equivalent of a stroke.
"See you then," Bucky manages to say. Steve beams at him, gives a dorky little wave, and turns around, walking off with a little spring in his step that has no right to be as cute as it is.
"Holy shit."
Bucky almost jumps out of his skin at Sharon's voice, and when he looks over at her she's staring at him with a truly frightening glee. He huffs, feeling his face grow even warmer, and resolutely turns back to his files.
"Shut up, Sharon."
------
As the days go by and it gets close to Christmas, Steve's Christmas spirit is showing no signs of stopping and Bucky's truly reached the peak of sexual frustration. It's been bad enough just living with the guy, but the holidays have definitely brought a bit more tension into their interactions.
It doesn't help that Steve's got some kind of agenda to treat Bucky to every Christmas tradition ever made - which is why they're sitting on the couch, sipping eggnog and watching Christmas movies.
Some of them aren't too bad, really - How the Grinch stole Christmas is fun, although Bucky refuses to watch more than the first five minutes of Elf, and Steve looks like Bucky personally insulted his mother when he suggests Die Hard.
"Die Hard isn't a Christmas movie," Steve says, one hand pressed to his chest in horror. The current sweater shows Santa stuck in a chimney with only his bottom half visible, the words Size Matters written above in chunky block letters.
"It's set at Christmas," Bucky argues, mainly for the sake of arguing - Steve's adorable when he's annoyed.
"That doesn't make it a Christmas movie."
"I'm sorry, are you the expert on what makes a Christmas movie now?"
"I'll show you expert," Steve growls, and barely gives Bucky enough time to put down his eggnog before tackling him backwards. Bucky yelps as his back hits the couch, Steve's body blanketing his and Steve digging his fingers into Bucky's sides just to hear him shriek.
"Steven, you bastard," Bucky wheezes out, and Steve gasps dramatically.
"Don't you disrespect my mama like that, Barnes, if you wanna come out of this alive."
Bucky blindly reaches out and pinches Steve's nipple, making him squeal and jerk away, leaving Bucky giggling breathlessly on his back, not even bothering to get up. Steve glares at him from the other side of the couch, rubbing his nipple.
"That was mean," Steve huffs. "I have sensitive nipples."
"And you tickled me," Bucky counters, still a bit breathless. "Dirty move, Rogers."
Steve grins over at him. "Truce?"
"You're the one who started it in the first place," Bucky whines, but lets Steve pull him up anyway.
"Yeah, because you said Die Hard was a Christmas movie."
They end up watching Ice Age, which has nothing to do with Christmas but has snow so, according to Steve, that makes it festive. How he thinks Ice Age is a Christmas movie and not Die Hard, Bucky will never know.
They're maybe halfway through the film when Steve yawns ad Bucky feels an arm drape casually over the back of the couch behind him. He hadn't noticed how close he and Steve were getting as the movie progressed, but they're a hair's breadth from touching, and Steve's looking far too invested in the movie to be genuine, his cheeks bright red. Bucky inhales and leans into Steve's side, just a bit, and Steve lets out a breath and wraps his arm around Bucky's shoulders.
"Cuddling is a Christmas tradition too, huh?" Bucky can't help but tease.
"...Yes?"
Bucky just grins and lays his head on Steve's shoulder, unable to wipe the smile from his face for a long time.
-----
On Christmas Eve, Steve descends upon the apartment like a madman. He puts up even more decorations, including personalised stockings for both him and Bucky.
("Steve, why does this sock have my name on it?"
"It's your stocking, Buck - that's where Santa puts your presents!"
"Steve, I'm Jewish."
"Santa surpasses all religion.")
For maybe half the afternoon, Steve locks himself in his bedroom and reappears hours later with a veritable tower of presents that he happily stacks under the tree. Some are for their friends, but the vast majority are addressed to Bucky.
"How many presents did you get me?" Bucky asks, staring in bemusement at the pile of wrapping paper.
"Oh, a bunch," Steve replies cheerfully. "It's your first Christmas, Buck - gotta make it special."
Bucky purposely doesn't tell Steve that being with him makes it special enough.
They eat a small meal for dinner, and Steve ends up hustling Bucky into his room by ten-thirty.
"Steve, come on," Bucky says, unable to stop the fondness in his voice.
"Go to bed, Buck!" Steve chirps. "Santa doesn't visit children who stay up late!"
"Did you just call me a child? Steve-"
Steve quickly shuts the door before Bucky can smack him, and Bucky can hear him running to his room, giggling to himself.
Bucky's in love with an idiot.
Still, he goes to bed early - probably for the best too, because the next thing he knows is Steve's jumping on his bed to wake him up and his phone says it's 6:45 in the morning.
"Steve. What the fuck," Bucky groans into his pillow, trying desperately to block out the two hundred-plus pounds of muscle using his bed as a bouncy castle.
"It's Christmas, Buck - you gotta get up!"
"It's before seven o'clock on a Sunday, Steve, you absolute monster."
Steve does manage to drag Bucky out of bed eventually, and half an hour later Bucky finds himself grumpily sipping coffee on their couch, still wrapped in a blanket.
"You ready for presents?" Steve asks. He's practically vibrating in place next to Bucky, hands shoved under his legs as if he's trying to keep them from moving. His sweater's a simple one today, a red and green checkers pattern with the words MERRY CHRISTMAS, FUCKERS in bold script.
"Steve, if you don't let me finish my coffee I will shove the tree up your ass," Bucky says without looking up from his mug. Steve sighs dramatically but stays quiet, shifting impatiently as Bucky takes his sweet fucking time with the one true love in his life: caffeine.
As soon as Bucky's swallowed the last dregs of coffee Steve's taking the empty mug from him and replacing it with a present from the pile under the tree. Bucky rolls his eyes but starts unwrapping anyway; Steve's just too cute to say no to.
He laughs when he sees what Steve's bought him - it's a Christmas sweater (because of course it is), a picture of a glaring cat with a string of tinsel around its neck sitting in a wrapped box. Meow-y Christmas is written above its head.
"Now we can match!" Steve says, and Bucky can't help but laugh at that, pulling the sweater on over his pyjamas.
Most of the gifts are little things - a box of chocolates, some nice hand cream, a little skeleton keychain - and by the time Bucky's gotten through all the presents he's surrounded by wrapping paper and his cheeks hurt from smiling.
When Bucky reaches under the tree to get the small box he'd put there last night, Steve perks up even more.
"It isn't the tower of stuff that you got me, but I thought you deserved something too," Bucky says, butterflies in his stomach as he passed the present over.
"Buck, you didn't need to get me a gift," Steve says, but he's gleefully tearing into the wrapping paper anyway, so Bucky doubts he's that upset about it. When he's unwrapped the box and opened the lid Steve pauses, reaching in slowly to pick up the book.
"Is this..."
"Complete guide of Van Gogh's life and work. I know he's your favourite."
Steve grins as he opens the book, skimming through the contents. "This is awesome, Buck. Thanks."
When the envelope falls from the pages, Steve makes an interested noise in the back of his throat and rips it open, but his jaw goes slack when he takes out the Coney Island tickets.
"Buck, what...?"
Bucky shrugs, his face hot. "I know your ma isn't around anymore, and this was your thing with her, but I thought... Maybe you'd like to go again. With me."
Steve's staring at him, a weird look in his eyes, and Bucky's about to open his mouth and ask what's gotten into him when he's reeled in by his shirt and Steve's lips are on his.
It's a slow kiss, tentative, like they're teenagers again at a school dance. Steve's lips are soft, a bit chapped, and Bucky's frozen in place, unable to move, because Steve's kissing him, Steve's got one hand on Bucky's hip and the other cradling his face like he's something precious.
Steve pulls away slightly, eyes large and worried, and Bucky's struck by the fact that he didn't kiss back - so he twines his fingers in Steve's hair and pulls him back in, gasping when Steve's hand tightens on his hip. When they part, Bucky's heart is racing hard enough that he's worried it might burst out of his chest.
"What was that for?" Bucky asks breathlessly. He doesn't let go of Steve.
Steve shrugs, glancing up. "Mistletoe."
Bucky looks up and sure enough, there's a tiny sprig of green above them, white berries glistening in the leaves. He looks back at Steve, unable to stop himself from smiling.
"Steve, why is there mistletoe in our apartment?"
Steve's face turns pink. "Uh... Christmas spirit?"
Bucky can't stop himself from laughing at that, leaning into Steve and trying to stop the flow of giggles. Steve turns redder, but he looks inordinately pleased with himself, so much so that Bucky has to lean up and kiss him again, barely able to press their lips together he's smiling so much.