Work Text:
Feeling as if his nose hairs were actually starting to freeze, Bucky stamped his booted feet in the snow and fixed his companion with a glare. “Steve, so help me, if you don’t finish that snowman right this second, I am going to throw myself at it like a linebacker and not feel the slightest smidge of shame when you cry about your creation being destroyed.”
Steve was utterly unbothered, not even looking up as he appeared perfectly cheerful about standing in knee-deep snow in subzero temperatures. “Buck, you’re such a wet sock. It’s winter, winter means fun things!”
He was mightily tempted to give the guy a good shove and whitewash him for his obnoxious positivity. “In my case, winter means half of a not-super-pleasant nickname and apparently freezing my ass off while you use a toothpick to draw details on a snowman that will be half-melted in a few days.”
Steve wielded said toothpick with nary a concern and replied nonchalantly, “Wet. Sock.”
Bucky turned on his heel, preparing to trudge back inside as he called over his shoulder, “I’m leaving.”
For the first time, Steve sounded put out. “You’ll miss the big reveal!”
“I’m getting frostbite!”
The man actually scoffed. “We’ve both been frozen worse, you’ll be fine.”
Mouth slightly agape as he swung around, Bucky reached down and picked up a double handful of snow, packing it tight between his palms and imagining, with great satisfaction, what Steve’s face would look like with snow all over it. “Punk.”
“Jerk.”
Thwap!
Ah, what a satisfying sound.
“HEY!”
Yep, a snowy-faced Steve was exactly as satisfying as he’d hoped for.