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Bucky blinks, lazily and unfazed. Natasha stands in front of him, tapping a slim finger against her chin, green eyes squinted as she racks her brain. He shifts uncomfortably underneath her gaze.
Her face lights up.
“Pearl.”
Bucky sighs. “I’m not even wearing overalls.”
Nat laughs, throwing her head back, as if what she’s heard is terribly amusing. “Alright, alright. Let me try again.”
Bucky rolls his eyes, brushing past her and towards the floor length mirror to inspect himself again for possibly the hundredth time that hour. Ever since coming out of the ice and escaping the clutches of Hydra, getting used to the 21st century felt like a chore, something huge and daunting looming overhead. Fortunately, Bucky found, that the new age had lots to offer. Aside from introducing him to music that let him feel a myriad of emotions when listening, Sam also shoved a handful of DVDs into his arms.
Needless to say, Bucky was hooked. Something about the modern age, the way people spoke and moved their bodies, it was a dance, an art form. And when Sam added him to his streaming service subscriptions, letting him browse even more with the push of a button, well, Bucky spent more than a few nights curled up on the couch with Alpine, eyes heavy with fatigue but unable to turn away from the screen.
Natasha’s scent of roses comforted him, having an alpha around always easing his near constant anxiety. Unfortunately, she seemed hellbent on trying and failing on guessing his costume.
He inspected himself in the mirror, turning side to side. He pouted slightly.
Did no one know who Casey Becker was? Scream? 1996? Granted, he was still in the clutches of Hydra’s tendrils but he digressed.
He would give it to Nat, though. He almost, almost, went with Pearl.
The soft yellow sweater was a little big on him, the hem of the sleeves covering most of his hands. His washed out jeans clung to his hips comfortably with a pair of slightly worn out converse to top it all off. Sam’s cheeky retort to dye his hair blonde to complete the look earned him a dangerous glare.
He smiled, all shy-like. For once in his life, he felt nice.
He looked back over at Nat who was admiring him from afar, hands on her hips. He furrowed his brows as he examined her costume. “What are you even supposed to be?”
Natasha’s eyes widened, hand placed over her heart in shock, like Bucky insulted her. “God, you’re such an old man. I’m Jill Valentine.”
Bucky blinks.
Nat sighed over-dramatically. “Resident Evil? Video Game? Really?”
Bucky simply went back to the mirror, ignoring Nat’s huffs and murmurs of annoyance.
She suddenly came up behind him, fingers languidly clutching his shoulders. “You look nice. I bet Steve will get a kick out of this.” she laughed. Bucky glares down at her. “Don’t joke like that.” he mumbles.
Nat raises an eyebrow, moving away from him and across the room. “You’ve seriously got to have more confidence. Steve likes you, you like him. Perfect. Make a move already, defy gender norms.”
Bucky’s still unsure.
Sure, he’s known Steve his whole life since the Second World War, they’ve shared a couple of kisses, a couple of rushed touches… but does all that even mean anything anymore? The world is different. Plus, Bucky doesn’t think he’s good enough. He’s a handful, not the typical omega that Steve would want, or should have and—
“Hey,” Nat gives him a sympathetic smile, arms crossed. “I can tell when you’re overthinking. Stop that, it’s Halloween.”
Bucky nods, swallowing dryly. Nat suddenly has a glint in her smile, something that has him on edge, makes him squirm. She moves her arm and places something small in his hands, it feels like plastic.
He unfurls his fingers.
Oh…
“I… I don’t know, Nat,”
Nat hums, inquisitively. “Loosen up a little. Just in case.” she winks.
Bucky looks at the compact makeup mirror again, huffing in annoyance and embarrassment. The thought crosses his mind briefly; Steve sweeping him off his feet, murmuring compliments as kisses are pressed to his jaw, his scent wrapping around him like a warm hug as he undresses him and—
“Ok… fine.” he grumbles.
Nat cheers.
The elevator ride up to the penthouse suite has Bucky skittish, more than he usually is. Sam does his best to comfort him, complimenting his costume, finally understanding the reference. It makes him feel better. Just a little.
The eyeliner and slight blush makes him feel pretty, he’s found. Still, he’s worried about calling too much attention to himself.
Sometimes he forgets Sam is an omega like him, his scent calming him, sensing his distress. His costume is nice too, Phantom of the Opera, he learns.
He wonders what Steve is dressed up as.
Halloween was somewhat underwhelming back in the 30s, sometimes being lackluster if not canceled outright for safety concerns. He fondly remembers Sarah and Winnifred cooing at him and Steve as they showed off their handmade, jank costumes. It was a simpler time.
The elevator dings, doors opening, Bucky immediately overwhelmed by the scent of fruity alcohol and the thumping of music.
Tony greets them, fake blood splattered over his vampire costume. “Glad you all could make it! Was starting to get cold without you.” he laughs before leading them deeper into the suite.
Bucky is unsure, watching Sam break off to get drinks, leaving him to fend for himself. Bucky isn’t helpless, God no, but he feels like a deer in the middle of the road.
“Hey, Buck,” Bucky quickly turns, heart pounding in his chest at the sight of Steve. He’s in his usual suit, albeit a flimsier version of it. He looks good. He always looks good.
He smiles, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. “Hey. You look…” his words die in his throat. Steve laughs, looking down at himself.
“I must look silly, huh? Didn’t have a clue what to dress up as so, might as well do what I know best.” he chuckles.
Bucky laughs with him, shaking his head. His scent is so distinctly alpha, all sandalwood and mid-summer, like the beach or the edge of a clearing, where the forest meets the sea.
Steve looks like he’s racking his brain, gears turning within before speaking, “Casey Becker, right? Scream?”
Oh, and Bucky wants to melt right there and then.
“Yeah actually… since when did you start watching modern movies?” Bucky teases.
Steve laughs again, shrugging.
They both go quiet, the sounds of chatter and music filling the silence.
Tony laughs suddenly, grabbing Steve’s wrist and pulling him away. He’s gives bucky an apologetic smile as he disappears into the crowd.
Bucky turns away, following Sam to the back of the suite. He starts to feel awful.
Bucky feels eyes on him all night. Sam and Natasha make small talk with others while Bucky nurses his alcohol on an innocuous couch towards the back. He can feel himself slipping slightly, not from the alcohol, no, but from the sight of Steve fucking Rogers staring at him from across the room. His cheeks feel hot and he does his best to make himself smaller, trying to hide behind his plastic cup.
And—oh, here he comes, all tall and broad and righteous.
Steve makes himself comfortable next to him on the couch, smiling awkwardly at him. Bucky can’t help but smile back, looking down at his near empty cup.
It’s weird. Steve is weird. In such a wonderful way.
He’s started taking him out occasionally, for dinner or tea, sometimes bringing him takeout from his favorite Indian place. He finds soft blankets wrapped neatly outside his door, with pastel sticky notes, sweet words quickly but neatly sprawled across. It makes his inner omega swoon. He wish he had one of those blankets with him now.
“Bucky, I—“
“Bucky! Come dance with us!” Nat laughs, dragging him up and away. Bucky blinks, a little bleary, staring at Steve in shock before letting Nat drag him to the dance floor.
The only respite Bucky gets is a spare bedroom upstairs, sneaking away from a very drunk Natasha and closing the door behind him with a small click.
This was a bad idea, he thinks.
Was he having fun? Not really. And that made him feel even worse. He stumbled over to the king sized bed, toeing out of his shoes before sitting on the bed, the thumping of music muted behind the door.
He looked down at his hands—one flesh, one metal, the grip Hydra had on him replaying in his mind. Getting used to normal life felt so foreign to him, like learning how to walk again. He still wasn’t sure if he was ready, if he’d ever been ready.
His head hurt.
A soft knock and then the handle turned, Steve peeking his head inside, looking relieved to see only Bucky.
“Finally.” he breathes, sitting next to him. Bucky shifts over, giving Steve room… only for him to get closer, innocent smile on his face.
Bucky wants to cry. He wants to rip his hair out. But most importantly, he wants to kiss Steve. Badly.
It feels wrong, like he’s crossing a boundary he should’ve never provoked.
He stands up. “Sorry, I gotta-“
His wrist is caught, Steve’s brow worried, blue eyes shining pleading.
Bucky bites his lip, turning away as he feels the first tears slip from his eyes. He’s a mess of emotions, curling into Steve as he sighs, pulling him close to his chest, settling him on his lap.
“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Bucky laughs, wiping away his tears. Let it be Steve to always try to clean up a mess he didn’t make. His scent is so heavenly, entering every corner of his mind.
The silence, this time, is comforting.
“You look, really beautiful, by the way.” Steve laughs, the tips of his ears reddening. Bucky resists the urge to shy away, feeling naked and exposed underneath Steve’s gaze. It’s intense and meaningful in that familiar way—still the same old Steve from Brooklyn, all bony knees and short-tempered.
Steve speaks up again, hesitant.
“I wanted,” he sighs. “I wanted to know if you liked my courting. I’m not the best at it, but Sam said-“
Huh?
Bucky quickly whips his head around to stare at Steve, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. “Courting?!” he gasps.
It was Steve’s turn to look shocked. “Oh… oh god. I’m—Bucky, I’m so sorry I should’ve-“
“No! No, I just…” Bucky trails off, thinking back to Steve’s courtship.
Hydra really did a number on him.
Bucky can’t help the way he immediately jumps on Steve, pressing their lips together, sighing as Steve gives in, wrapping strong arms around his waist and pulling him closer.
It feels like floating, like he’s stepping on clouds.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.” Steve whispers, pressing his palm to Bucky’s cheek, him immediately keening into the touch.
“I’ve always loved you, you know.” Bucky whispers.
Steve hums, kissing the tip of his nose.
“I have too.”
Sam is helping Natasha out of the now empty suite when Bucky comes back downstairs, hand in hand with Steve. Sam turns to them, giving the two a thumb up before hefting Nat into the elevator.
Bucky, he finds, can’t wait for next year.