Work Text:
The weather outside is frightful is a really accurate lyric for Christmas Day for anyone who lives in New England. After a week of cold and overcast days, it’s icy and windy this morning. Stiles stares out Bucky’s large window overlooking the street and already sees an accident with a taxi running into a tree half a block away. The clouds above are snow clouds, and he feels kind of excited about the possibility of actually having a white Christmas.
It’s a different kind of excitement than he had as a kid, of course. Instead of wanting to go outside and have snowball fights, he’s looking forward to hot chocolate and snuggles with his boyfriend in front of the TV. Growing up isn’t all bad when snowmen get replaced with boyfriends, he decides.
Glancing at the kitchen, he watches said boyfriend make pancake batter while humming along to Christmas music that’s lightly playing in the background. Stiles found a playlist of old classics, which means it has Sinatra and Crosby and all these other artists that Bucky has been introducing to him. Currently, it’s a woman singing about a white Christmas, which seems rather prophetic considering his thoughts.
“You’re staring, Doc,” Bucky says, not looking up from the bowl he’s stirring. Stiles can see the slight smile on lips that are still swollen from making out earlier. “Like what you see?”
“You know I do,” he says, leaning against the window glass and watching Bucky. “You might want to put a shirt on soon, though, as I expect the others to start getting up before too long.”
“They’re pack, right?” Bucky looks up at him and shrugs. “Can’t really get insecure about the arm and scars when pack is unconditional, ya know? Besides, you like looking at me, and I like that you like looking at me. I’ll put one on when I’ve finished cooking.”
“We all have our scars, some just aren’t as visible as others,” Stiles says. “You don’t have anything to be insecure about, Buck. You’re a survivor. But you’re right about our pack being accepting regardless. I mean, half of us are former villains, so how could we judge anyone?”
“I like Braeden. She’s blunt and aggressive, but she seems to be loyal,” Bucky says. “If she weren’t part of the pack, she’d make a good ally or a bad enemy, so I’m glad she’s on our side. I know you were curious how we’d get along, but you don’t have to worry. I doubt there’s anyone in your pack that I couldn’t at least tolerate even if I didn’t like them much. In Braeden’s case, I was thinking of taking her to the shooting range that SHIELD has set up, since I think she’d enjoy it.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure that I’d ever want a member who couldn’t at least be tolerated,” he says with a snort. “I don’t know if you’ll ever meet them all, but the bonds I feel are a good mixture of sassholes and honorable people. Actually, I should probably be a good alpha right now.”
With that in mind, he pulls his phone out and opens his text thread. Scrolling through it, he feels a twist of pain in his heart when he sees Work Wife’s thread. He doesn’t delete it, but he scrolls past it, pushing away those feelings for now. It’s Christmas, and he doesn’t want to deal with the emotional aftermath of yesterday’s events right now.
Finding the one for Grumpy, he opens it, seeing the last text was sent over three years ago. Derek might not even have the same phone by now, but he does receive random texts from Cora so he assumes she would have mentioned it if Derek got a new number. He types a simple message that he feels is suitable for an alpha.
Happy birthday, ancient one. Have you started to lose your hair yet? I don’t know if you’d be able to rock the buzz cut as well as I did, so I hope not.
Once he sends the text, he realizes there are a few that he should probably send. He just types up a general Merry Christmas text that he copies then sends to Isaac, Cora, Parrish, Alicia, Susie, Liam, Jackson, and Scott. He knows that he needs to call his dad, since he’s actually been avoiding that since his apartment building was set on fire. He’s kind of surprised that Dad has allowed it to go this long, but the timing of the cruise definitely worked in his favor.
Scrolling back through his messages, he sends the Christmas greeting to Tony, Nat, Happy, Sam, and Lang, too. It would be rude to ignore the new faces in his life, even if he’s not sure what will happen with them once the mess with Hydra is resolved. Sam and Tony will probably stick around, but the others might not when he’s no longer useful for their case.
His phone buzzes, and he grins when he sees it’s a response from Derek.
I’m turning thirty-four, not ninety-four, dumbass. No hair loss at all, but I still know I’d look better than you ever did with a buzz cut. You were a goofy looking kid back then. Thanks for the birthday wishes, even cloaked in sarcasm as they were. Did Peter remind you?
Stiles huffs as he reads the reply. Typing a response, he catches himself humming along to a catchy version of Jingle Bells.
No, Peter didn’t remind me. I’m a good alpha, jerk face. I remembered your birthday and thought I’d be nice by acknowledging it. I was never a goofy looking kid, by the way. Mrs. Howard always said I was adorable and cute. Are you still with Cora or doing the solo thing now?
The phone has been buzzing, and he finds several replies wishing him a Merry Christmas or happy holidays in response to his initial text. Most don’t need a response, at least. He answers Alicia’s first.
Happy Holidays, Dr. S. Hope that you and Jay have a wonderful first Christmas together. Trini is gone. She texted me yesterday and hasn’t responded again. Dr. Stone seems to have disappeared. We need to have coffee one morning after work. I’ll bring Molly, and we can have that conversation you mentioned at the end of our holiday party. Susie can come, too.
He reads it again before typing a reply.
Coffee after work is a good idea. We have much to discuss. I spoke with Trini yesterday. She told me what she planned and asked me to tell Rajiv because she didn’t want to leave him a note. Odd about Stone. He’s usually reliable. Give Molly and your kids my best wishes. I should be back at work on Friday night.
He sends the message and then reads the text from
Isaac.
Is it Christmas already? I don’t pay attention to dates much these days, but I noticed decorations changing as I’ve traveled. Have things calmed down in New York City?
Stiles sends a quick reply, feeling slightly guilty that he’s dropped the ball with communication recently. He didn’t really answer any of the texts he received when his apartment building was on fire. He just sent emoji responses so the text was acknowledged.
Today is the day, not that I’ve bought gifts or even put up a tree. Spending the day relaxing because things are finally starting to calm down. The last postcard I received from you was when you were in Portugal. Still there?
“Your phone is very active this morning, Doc,” Bucky says, his voice closer than it had been. Stiles looks up and smiles when he sees the steaming mug of hot chocolate that Bucky is holding for him. “I went with cocoa because I thought coffee might bring up some bad associations right now.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he admits, taking the mug from him. “Coffee with cyanide especially.” He leans over and kisses Bucky’s jaw. “As for the phone, I sent Derek a happy birthday text, since he’s a Christmas baby, and I sent Christmas wishes to some people. Isaac wanted to know if things are calmer now. I also heard from Alicia, who mentioned Trini and Stone.”
“Looks like a lot of people care about you,” Bucky says, moving closer to him. Stiles shifts so he’s leaning back against Bucky’s bare chest. “You were really focused on being alone when we first met, all those walls up and ‘stay away’ attitude. I’m glad you’ve had people in your life who refused to give up on you, even if they knew to give you space.”
“Guess they knew me better than I knew myself,” he says, tilting his head back so he can kiss Bucky’s cheek. “You know, if you hadn’t approached me at IHOP that morning, I’d probably still be isolated and refusing to let people get close because of the inner stuff I wasn’t ready to accept yet.”
“Don’t give me the credit for all that, Doc,” he says, looking at Stiles. “A lot of what’s happened would still have happened, just in different ways. I wouldn’t have been able to break through any walls if you hadn’t been willing to give me the chance to in the first place. Now, do you want bacon or sausage with our pancakes this morning?”
“God, I love you,” Stiles says, only realizing what he said after the fact. He blinks as he feels warmth spread over his cheeks, but he can’t take it back. Doesn’t want to take it back. It’s true even if it might be too soon to admit it. “I mean, I didn’t plan on saying it that way, but yeah.”
Bucky stares at him, not even blinking. “Do you mean it, Doc?” he asks, moving so that he’s facing him instead of holding him. “Not in the friendly casual way like people often say these days, but the real way?”
“There’s nothing casual about the way I feel for you, Buck,” Stiles says, signing. “I know it’s only been a few months, but it’s how I feel. I just didn’t mean to blurt it out, but you’ve been so supportive and also ready to kill for me, and I guess it slipped out.”
“I love you, too,” Bucky says, slowly smiling. “How could I not? Even if you leave wet towels on the bathroom floor to be a brat, you’re special. I knew it when I first saw you, and I’ve been falling since you told me that you’re not good at faking it. I just didn’t want to scare you off by saying it first.”
“Like a moth to a flame,” Stiles says, remembering Bucky saying that before. “I thought I’d end up being alone forever, but you were too stubborn to give up on me. And I love you.” He kisses him, careful not to spill his cocoa this time.
Bucky holds his face gently as they kiss, and Stiles kinda thinks his toes might be curling by the time he pulls away. “I heard the shower turn off in Lydia’s room,” he murmurs. “I should get back to making breakfast before she comes out. I love you, Doc. I think I’ll make bacon and sausage to celebrate.”
“You’re ridiculous,” he says, lightly shoving Bucky with his left hand. “Go on. Make me fluffy pancakes like a good boyfriend. I’m going to finish answering these texts.”
“It’s snowing now, so I bet things get quieter outside,” Bucky says, glancing outside. “I’ll make you pancakes because I’m the best boyfriend ever and you love me.” He winks before walking back towards the kitchen.
Stiles takes a sip of his cocoa and watches the snowflakes fall for a few minutes, feeling warm and happy and loved. Focusing on his bonds, he feeds some of those emotions into them, not sure if that’s how it works or not. He just wants his pack to know he appreciates them. The sound of his phone buzzing becomes too much to ignore, so he puts the cocoa down to answer texts.
Cora and I are staying together. We’ve been traveling the last year or so, trying to find somewhere that feels like home. Peter told us about the pack house in Sleepy Hollow a few days ago, and we think we might come for a trial visit in the next month or two. Have a good Christmas, alpha.
There isn’t really anything to say to that, so Stiles just sends back a short reply.
It’ll be good to see you two again. Have a good birthday, ancient one.
Isaac’s response surprises him.
I left Portugal. I’m actually in London now. Hanging out with Jackson, of all people. He isn’t as annoying as he used to be, which I guess shows we all grow up. Funny how he’s also pack now, isn’t it? We’re going ice skating soon while he whines about Lydia, so some things don’t change even while others do. I’ll see you soon, Stiles.
Huh. Isaac has ended up at Jackson’s place. Jackson who is whining about Lydia. Stiles doesn’t send a reply because there isn’t really anything to say. He sees a text from Bro and opens it.
Merry Christmas, man! Malia says it’s snowing in New York right now. Is it? That’s awesome. We aren’t getting any snow here. It’s just cold. We’re going to Mom’s for dinner later since she’s alone. Did you know that she and Chris got divorced earlier this year? I can never remember what you know and don’t know. Miss you, Stiles. Tell Lydia we said hello.
Stiles reads it a few times and rubs his temple. Looking over at Bucky frying bacon, he considers ignoring it, but Scott’s his brother from another mother even if their friendship has changed over the years. People drift apart all the time, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t still a connection.
Hey Scottie. Dad actually told me about your mom and Mr. Argent a few weeks ago. You didn’t tell me about it. You don’t really tell me anything, do you? Like the fact that you’ve got a kid. WTF, bro? I had to hear about it from Lydia when the kid’s several years old? And what happened with Liam? He texted me from Japan, and you’re not his alpha anymore.
Before he can think better of it, he sends the text. Lydia walks out of her bedroom shortly after, looking well put together in a pretty dark green dress and bare feet. She’s left her hair down, and he can’t help but smile at how content she seems.
“There’s the Christmas angel,” he teases. “Did you sleep well, babe? I can barely even see the bruise this morning. Did it already start to fade away or is the wonders of makeup? Bucky’s making us breakfast.”
“I did sleep well,” she says, walking over and kissing his cheek. She steals his cocoa and takes a sip before putting it back down. “I used cover up on the bruise since I expect our parents will be calling us at some point today. I’m not sure where the ship is today, but Mom will find a way, I’m sure. Did you get some rest?”
“Yeah, I slept pretty good.” He kisses the top of her head. “I was so exhausted that I don’t think I even moved for a few hours. Of course, that means I woke up early. Bucky and I found some ways to fill the time, though, before we had to get out of bed.”
“Looking at the state of your hair and the mark on your neck, I have a pretty good idea just how you kept yourselves occupied,” she says dryly. “I’m not even going to mention the scratches on his back that are very visible because he isn’t wearing a shirt. James, is it hygienic to be frying bacon without clothes on? If you’re going to walk around half naked, you should have an apron, at least.”
“Merry Christmas, Lydia,” Bucky says, flashing a grin. “I appreciate your concern for the food, but I can promise you that it’s safe to consume. If it makes you feel better, I can put on a shirt, though. It’s just easier to cook without one because the fabric always pulls against my left arm because it’s larger than the sleeves usually have to accommodate.”
The sudden ringing of his phone nearly makes him drop it. Stiles looks at it and sighs when he sees that Scott’s calling him. He makes a face and considers ignoring it, but that wouldn’t be mature or alpha like. So he answers it. “Hello,” he says, turning to look back outside at the slowly falling snow.
“Dude, I didn’t tell you about Gabe because we don’t want you to have to come back to this town,” Scott says. “Your dad and I made a pact after you left for college, and I was just keeping that promise to him. Things are good here now, have been since Monroe disappeared and the Nemeton healed, but I know you hate this town. And I get it, I really do, which is why I don’t tell you stuff.”
“I do hate the town,” Stiles agrees, knowing it’s still a Hellmouth even if the sacrifice of Monroe and her men had fixed the Nemeton. “Doesn’t mean I hate you or your pack, dude. You’ve got a son, and I never knew.”
“There’s not too much of a pack left,” Scott says, not sounding that upset about it. “Mason’s working with your dad now, and Corey’s a nurse. Aaron, Jackie, Hillary, Kyle, and Cici are still here, but the others have moved on. You asked about Liam? He left, like, a year after high school finished. He needed something different, so I supported him in leaving.”
“And you don’t care that he’s got another alpha?” Stiles asks, leaning his forehead against the window. “My dad told me that he didn’t want me to ever come back there, so I understand you two making that choice, but do you see why it was wrong to decide it for me, Scotty?”
“We just wanted to protect you, Stiles,” Scott says. “Malia told me I was stupid for cutting you off, but I was just trying to do the right thing. I know that I’ve fucked up a lot, especially when we were kids, but I’m better now. I’ve become a good alpha, even if I’m not the type of alpha that you’d want me to be.”
“Malia’s right,” Stiles says. “It was stupid. But I guess I can’t throw stones since I’m in a glass house, too. I mean, I pulled away completely, and I haven’t made any effort, so I shouldn’t be surprised that you didn’t, either. We’ve grown up and apart, dude.”
“I don’t want you to be mad at me, Stiles. I know we aren’t the same as we used to be, but you’re still my brother,” Scott says. “Your dad said you’re doing really well at the hospital, and Natalie told Mom that you’re dating someone now.”
“Scott, dude, it’s been years,” he points out even as he feels a slight ease of tension that he’s been carrying with him since he left Beacon Hills. He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m dating someone. He’s pretty damn amazing. Now, what’s this about a kid? You’re a dad now? Malia is a mom?”
Scott laughs. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? It wasn’t planned, but it’s been good for us. Forced me to grow up in a lot of ways. Gabe is almost four now. His name is Gabriel Michael, which we only realized after naming him is, like, way religious, but whatever. We call him Gabe. You’re his Godfather, dude. I couldn’t imagine anyone else but you.”
“You need to send me pictures,” Stiles says, glancing up when he feels someone step beside him. Braeden is standing there munching on a piece of bacon, and his stomach growls. “Hey, Scotty. I’ve got to go. Braeden is teasing me with crispy bacon, and my stomach isn’t going to let me resist. We’ll talk more later, alright?”
“Braeden? What’s she…you know what, I’m not even going to ask,” Scott says. “Tell her I said hello. Merry Christmas, dude. I’ve missed you.”
“Merry Christmas. Me too, bro,” he says, ending the call before picking up his mug. “How’d you sleep last night, Brae? Was the room comfortable?”
“It was fine,” Braeden says, handing him a strip of bacon. “James said that bacon always seems to get your attention, so I was sent to bring you to breakfast.”
“Bacon is rather irresistible,” Stiles says. He follows Braeden to the table, which has been set during the time he was talking to Scott. Peter has joined them, coming upstairs from the guest room he slept in last night. Peter gives him a look, arching his brow as he drinks his coffee. Stiles sits in his usual spot across from Bucky, putting his cup down.
“What did Scott want?” Lydia asks, looking at him curiously. “You were being particularly chatty with him. Is everything alright back in the Hellmouth?”
“He said things have been surprisingly calm since Monroe and the Nemeton,” Stiles says. “It doesn’t sound like there are many issues in town anymore, which means it shouldn’t be too difficult to convince our parents to move sooner than we expected.”
“You’ll always have a weakness for that stupid boy, sweetheart,” Peter says, shaking his head. “As it’s one of your few negative traits, I suppose we’ll have to accept it even if we don’t like it.” He looks at Lydia. “McCall was talking about his son, I believe.”
“Yes, he was,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes at Peter’s antics. “I’m fully aware that most of you aren’t fond of Scott for whatever reasons, but he’s still Scott. We aren’t ever going to be friends like we used to be, I know that, but it would be good for us to be civil, if nothing else.”
“The food is going to get cold,” Bucky says, smoothly interrupting the discussion about Scott. He’s wearing a shirt now, just a plain red t-shirt, and Stiles is slightly distracted by the way the shirt fits his shoulders. Bucky glances at him and smiles smugly, obviously noticing his attention. “You’re looking hungry, Doc.”
“Smartass,” Stiles mutters, reaching over to stab his fork into two pancakes. He puts them on his plate and then adds two more. “I actually am starving, Buck. Thanks for making breakfast. It looks delicious.”
“I can’t believe it’s snowing,” Braeden says. “It’s a complete cliche, isn’t it? I can’t remember ever having an actual white Christmas. Not surprising considering I grew up in southern Arizona, but I’ve traveled a lot since I left there.”
“It’s the first time it’s snowed on Christmas since I moved to New York,” Stiles says. “I think Boston has had more snow than we get here, hasn’t it, Lydia?”
“Probably,” she says, arching a brow. “I find it difficult to believe that we’ve resorted to discussing the weather just because we’re unable to discuss recent events. Are our lives really so dull at the moment?”
Bucky snorts. “Well, we don’t want to be dull, do we?” he teases. “Have you been able to get everything unpacked at your new apartment, Lydia?”
“Most of it,” she says, smiling brightly. “I want to get everything finished before next weekend, so hopefully there won’t be any further interruptions. I refuse to start work with boxes still needing to be unpacked. Speaking of, when do you plan to move in, Stiles? Have you even started packing yet?”
“I haven’t actually been back to my apartment since the attempted fire,” he admits. “Don’t give me that look, Lydia. I’ve been a little bit busy recently, you know? I’ve had to prioritize things, and I have to say that moving was low on the list.”
“I suppose that’s an acceptable excuse,” Lydia decides. “I’ve met the leprechaun from 302. His name’s Finn, he’s well over six feet tall, and he’s in his forties. I think you’ll like him. He seems like a nice guy. The nearest neighbor is a former librarian in her late sixties with a hearing problem, so we won’t have any complaints from her about noise, at least.”
“That’s good. We can get loud when we play board games, especially when you’re losing,” Stiles says, laughing when she glares at him. “You know that it’s true, sister wife. You hate it when I win.”
“Hate is such a strong word,” Lydia says, sniffing primly. “Besides, you’re one to talk about being competitive. You’re a sore loser, babe. And you gloat far too much when you win.”
“The gloating is the worst,” Bucky says, winking at him. “And never make a bet with him because I’ve learned that he doesn’t make bets he isn’t planning on winning.”
“It sounds like you’re speaking from experience, James,” Peter says with a snort. “Stiles is quite ruthless when it comes to winning. Aren’t you, darling?”
“Yes, I am,” he says honestly. “But I’m not a sore loser. My sister is just disgruntled because she’s the sore loser and refuses to admit it.” He focuses on eating as Lydia denies his comment, which makes Peter chuckle. Braeden is just eating her pancakes, listening to them as she chews. When he finishes, he sighs. “Is it really Christmas? It just doesn’t feel like it this year. I mean, I’ve been working the last couple of years, but it still felt festive.”
“I usually have a tree and lights up, but I didn’t this year because I was moving,” Lydia says. “I’m just glad that we bought mom and your dad the cruise months ago or I wouldn’t have had time to get them a gift. I’m afraid that I haven’t got anything for you yet, Stiles.”
“I vote that we just forget gifts this year,” Stiles suggests. “I certainly haven’t bought anyone a present, and I now have a whole pack to deal with. Do alphas have to buy Christmas gifts for everyone in the pack?”
“It’s usually customary, sweetheart,” Peter says with a slight smile. “However, most packs also live in much closer proximity than our does. It’s difficult to have a pack celebration when the members live internationally. Perhaps next year, we can plan holiday festivities at the pack estate?”
“That sounds fun for next year,” Braeden says. “What’s the plan for today, though? I vote that we watch Christmas movies.” She grins. “Die Hard, for instance?”
“That isn’t a Christmas movie,” Lydia says, shaking her head. “But I’m sure there are many movies that are considered classics that James hasn’t seen yet.”
“Why don’t we watch Die Hard along with some of the other movies, and Bucky can decide if it’s a Christmas movie?” Stiles suggests. He looks at Bucky and smiles. “What do you say, Buck?”
Bucky shrugs. “I’m good with watching movies. There are so many that I’ve never seen. The only holiday film I remember seeing before the war was The Christmas Carol, and I found it as boring as the novel.”
“If we’re going to be lazing around once more watching movies, there had better be popcorn,” Peter grumbles, standing up. “Let’s get this cleaned up. James cooked, so it’s up to the rest of us to clean up. Pack rules.”
“Of course,” Lydia says. “Mom cooked so the children must tidy up. Isn’t that how it works?” She smirks as she gets to her feet. “What is it, brother dear? I’m simply trying to understand pack dynamics.”
“You’re trying to be funny, but it isn’t working,” Stiles mutters. He perks up when he realizes something. “Since I’m the alpha, I don’t have to wash dishes, do I? Looks like I get to be comfortable while the hard work is being done.”
“A good alpha helps, sweetheart,” Peter says smugly, tossing him a dish towel. “You do want to be a good alpha, don’t you?”
“Oh, fuck off,” he says, standing up. “It’s not like I don’t wash dishes whenever Bucky cooks.” He throws the towel back at Peter. “You can dry since you’re so concerned about the clean up.”
“Guess you don’t need any more help,” Braeden says, not looking upset about that at all. “Come on, James. We can find Die Hard and get it ready to watch. You’re going to enjoy it. It’s got action, death, and romance.”
“How does action and death relate to Christmas?” Bucky asks, arching a brow and looking at her skeptically. He walks over and kisses Stiles’ jaw, hugging him behind as he whispers, “What have you got me into, Doc?”
“You know you love it, Buck,” he says, stealing a kiss. “Anyway, I’m sure being caught between Braeden and Lydia regarding the veracity of claiming Die Hard as a Christmas movie will help you figure out how to mediate pack disputes pretty quickly.”
“We’ll see how smug you are when I get you back for this,” Bucky murmurs, lightly slapping his ass before walking over to where Lydia and Braeden are playfully bickering.
“You’ve got it bad, sweetheart,” Peter says, poking him in the ribs. “Don’t worry, though. He smells just as sappy and lovestruck as you do.”
“If you tease me, I’m going to be forced to ask why you were so interested in the fact that Mr. Argent is divorced now,” he says bluntly.
Peter narrows his eyes before tilting his head slightly. “Point to you, alpha,” he says. “We won’t speak anymore about it. I do hope there’s something appropriate in the fridge to have for Christmas dinner later.”
“I’m sure we can find something,” Stiles says, allowing the change of subject because he won that round. He focuses on washing the dishes, listening to Braeden and Lydia telling Bucky about various holiday movies they’re finding on the streaming services.
Soon, they’re finished cleaning up, and Peter goes to sit in the chair that he seems to have claimed as his. Stiles has to pee, so he goes to the bathroom, washing his hands after. He’s on his way back to the living room when he receives a text message. Pulling out his phone, he sees that he got a reply from Enki.
Well done, Atrahasis. You aren’t finished yet, though. You’ve only discovered half the story. Follow the clues until you find the rest of the answers. Only then will you truly be done.
Half the story? The clues must be Meadowlark East, Driskill, and Bumble. Reading it again, he isn’t any closer to understanding it.
“Are you okay, Doc?” Bucky calls out. “They’re ready to start the movie.”
Stiles exits the text thread and puts his phone in his pocket. It’s Christmas, and he’s not supposed to be working. With that in mind, he walks back into the living room and pushes the text out of his mind for now.
“Sorry, I had to pee,” he says, sitting down between Bucky and Lydia. “Let’s watch John McClane kick some terrorist ass on this snowy Christmas morning.”
“I can’t believe I’m having to sit through this,” Lydia says, rolling her eyes. “I’m choosing the next movie. Something less violent for sure.”
“How thrilling,” Peter deadpans, putting his feet up. “Blood and bullets is perfect for inciting holiday cheer. I’m already feeling so festive.”
“It’s the perfect way to start an overly commercialized holiday.” Braeden pushes play on the remote and grins. “Yippee ki yay, motherfuckers.”
“Don’t ask,” Stiles tells Bucky, kissing him before leaning against his side. Bucky puts his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. “It’ll make sense after you watch the movie. After this one, we’ll watch something more traditional—less blood and bullets, and we can have that popcorn Peter demanded.”
“You know, this is still the best Christmas that I’ve had since Steve and I were in school, back before the war started and everything that followed,” Bucky says, squeezing his shoulder and snuggling closer. “I mean, I’ve got my boyfriend and our pack with me, so it’s a great day however we end up spending it.”