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He watched how the snowflakes drifted outside his window, his eyes blank, staring at the view of the falling snow from the foggy clouds.
He then gazed at the cityscape, sparkling with the lights of the season, the streets bathed in glimmers of red and green.
He stared at the view in uncertainty.
He remembered when he used to celebrate Christmas…back when he was still known as James Buchanan Barnes and still a child. He didn’t remember the exact ages, but he remembered glimpses of family gatherings and holiday joy. Now…he just wanted to stay indoors, not wanting to leave the safe refuge of the tower. And the only place where he truly felt safe was here.
Honestly, since the beginning, when New York came alive with the holly-jolly season, Bucky just wanted to hide away, avoid the strangers and crowds, and stay concealed, more than just staying warm from the cold.
At least the Christmas specials would play at some point. Watching them gave him comfort, but also memories—memories of sitting with his sister and Steve, huddled together, snow falling outside, the screen glowing warmly. The memories were overwhelming, and sometimes he could only flick the channels or turn the TV off.
He just felt like he wanted to disappear, stay hidden, and never leave his room.
He sat on the edge of his bed with a deep sigh, collapsing backward onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling with his exhausted expression and the dark rings beneath his eyes locked on the white expanse above. He glanced back at the window, seeing the snow falling slowly, the city still glimmering with faint holiday lights, before turning back to the ceiling.
Suddenly, he jerked when he heard a knock at his door—he thought he was alone, finally. “Who’s there?” he barked.
The door opened, and it was Steve, a smile peeking around the frame.
Bucky’s sudden tension softened, and he lowered himself back onto the bed.
Steve entered slowly, careful not to startle him, and chirped, “Hiya, bud! Merry Christmas!”
Bucky didn’t reply to the cheerful greeting, just staring at the ceiling, yet a small smile hid beneath his blank expression.
“Hi,” he said low and dull, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Steve suddenly bounced and landed on the bed beside him, making the mattress jolt beneath their weight. Bucky gasped when the bed vibrated. “Steve!” he snapped, his lips curling.
“What are you doing in here when you should be out there having fun?” Steve said. “It is snowing out! Come on, Bucky, let’s go to the park and watch the Christmas lights and everything! Let’s go!”
Bucky’s eyes darted, then he glared and turned away. “Uh…I really am not in the mood to go out, Steve,” he refused glumly.
Steve smiled and leaned closer. “Oh, come on, buddy. It’s snowing, and everyone else is getting ready to go see the lights and stuff. And we want you to come with us. I want you to come with me and the others”
Bucky kept his gaze fixed on the window. “I really don’t want to go out today, Steve,” his voice was cold as ice, and he closed his eyes, his mind already made up.
Steve frowned, then leaned closer and gently stroked his face. Bucky flinched, his body going tense—but it was Steve. It was always Steve. He was the only one allowed to touch him. The others were careful, respectful of his limits. He had learned to trust them, but touch was different. Only Steve had that permission. And for good reason.
Especially after the incident—when Natasha had accidentally grabbed his metal arm. Something that wasn’t really his, something that was permanently sewn to his skin, and he’d panicked. He’d squeezed too hard. Nearly crushed her hand. She still wore the damn brace and had to wear it for six months.
Without realizing it, his metal fist tightened, clenching hard as the memory flashed through him.
“Bucky,” Steve said, his voice stern but soft, the words meant to sink into him. “You can’t stay locked in the tower, in your room, forever. You can’t coop yourself up like this. You’re not an invalid, and you know I’m not going to stand by and let you do this to yourself—or to me. You need to go out and breathe for a bit. It’s not healthy to stay in here. You know that as well as I do”
Bucky didn’t reply. He opened his eyes just slightly, staring at Steve, his expression still firm. “Steve, I don’t want to go out.”
“Come on, you jerk,” Steve said with a smirk. “Don’t be like old Scrooge.”
He glared, then let out a forced sigh and sat up, making Steve lean back. “If I go out…and do whatever it is you want me to do, will we come straight back and you leave me alone?”
Steve grinned and drew an X across his chest. “Cross my heart, bud.”
Bucky let out a frustrated sigh. He knew Steve wasn’t going to let this go. Might as well get it over with—as long as they came back quickly.
“Fine,” he pouted.
Steve beamed and dashed to the door. “Okay! He’s coming!”
Seconds later, the others piled in, bundled in coats, scarves, boots, and mittens.
“Alright, Buckster, let’s go!” Sam cheered.
Bucky glared, sighed, and forced a small smile as he stood. Steve went to his closet, pulling out a snow coat. Bucky shot him a look but took his winter gear anyway.
He wished he didn’t have to go anywhere—wished he could stay right here, where he was safe, and where everyone else was safe too.
“Aw, come on, bud! Don’t be like old Ebenezer Scrooge,” Clint chirped. “Go enjoy the cold, chilling air!”
Bucky nodded reluctantly. “Okay, I just…let me get dressed first.”
Steve nodded, and they stepped out. He smiled as he watched Bucky start changing, then closed the door fully.
When he came out in his snow gear, his gaze stayed fixed on the floor. Steve noticed the mood shift, stepped forward, wrapped him in a tight, secure embrace, and kissed his cheek.
“I’m fine,” Bucky muttered. “Let’s just go already.”
“Ohh, wait!” Natasha exclaimed as she stepped toward him.
Bucky jolted, his entire body going rigid as she approached. He forced himself not to react, not to strike, and still flinched when something wrapped around his neck.
She smirked. “There you go. You’re all warmed up and ready, bucko.”
His eyes dropped—to the brace on her arm and hand. The one he’d nearly shattered her bones like they were made of glass. Surgery that could’ve happened. Guilt as always to this day twisted hard in his chest.
He quickly looked away, avoiding her—and the others.
Steve frowned slightly, leaned in, and kissed his cheek again, guiding Bucky to rest against him.
Natasha smiled softly, forgiving. “It’s okay, Bucky. It’s okay.”
She wished many times even after the incident she could hug him—but she wouldn’t risk triggering him again.
He suddenly burst out, “Alright! Let’s go already!”
Then he charged for the exit, leaving them all staring after him—Steve, as always, the first to follow.
***
They made it to Central Park, to the Wollman Rink, which had already been swallowed by winter crowds, and Bucky felt a small wave of relief that they had finally reached their destination. Being so far from the place he knew—the tower, his familiar sanctuary, his chamber—while surrounded by so many people made his skin prickle. The sheer number of strangers was uncomfortable, enough to set his mood swings on edge.
He was grateful Steve was right there beside him.
Bucky kept his face hidden deep in his scarf and coat, exhaling clouds of warm breath that vanished into the cold air. This—this—was exactly why he wanted to stay in the warm, heated tower, wrapped in blankets, safe in his quiet room.
He hoped they would head back soon.
But when he saw the others pulling on their skate shoes, his shoulders slumped, and a frown tugged at his mouth. He let out a deep sigh that seemed to sink heavy into his chest, burrowing further into his winter layers.
Tony finished tying his shoelaces as Natasha, Clint, Sam, and Bruce stepped onto the ice. Natasha yelped when she nearly slipped, only for Sam to catch her. Bruce tried to steady himself—and immediately felt Clint clinging tightly to his arm.
“What on earth are you doing?” Bruce barked. “Whoa! You’re going to make me fall!”
Clint yelped as he slid again, Bruce barely managing to stay upright. “Trying not to fall and break something. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Well, do it with someone else!”
Sam chuckled as Natasha recovered and skated ahead, her blades gliding smoothly across the ice as she held his hand. They moved easily, while Bruce and Clint were still locked in a desperate battle of balance and survival.
Tony turned to Steve, who already had his skates on and was ready to join them.
“Bucky, don’t you want to join us?” he offered.
Bucky only stared at him, then shook his head and turned away.
Steve hesitated. Tony sighed quietly and stepped closer, but stopped when Bucky took a step back, glaring. Tony’s expression went stoic—though if you looked closely, a faint frown tugged at his face. “You sure? Just a little skate around the circle?”
Bucky stepped back again, his eyes frozen on the ground.
Tony glanced at Steve. Steve patted his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go. Besides, he’s out here. That’s good enough,” he said, and they skated off.
Bucky watched as Steve and Tony disappeared into the spinning crowd. He stood there shivering as the cold bit into him, though something urged him forward. Slowly, he moved closer to the railing, weaving past people, stopping to watch the skaters circle the ice.
He leaned against the rail, observing quietly—hands clasped, couples holding each other close, parents laughing with their children. Everyone looked so content, so full.
He exhaled slowly, resting his chin on his folded arms, and spotted the others again.
Natasha skated flawlessly, graceful as if she belonged on a Broadway stage. Steve guided her with a smile as she spun elegantly, caught her balance, and spun again.
Sam skated with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes closed, as if humming along to some Christmas song of Mariah Carey.
Tony skated one-handed while talking on the phone, smiling softly as he spoke to Pepper.
Meanwhile, Bruce and Clint were still clinging to each other, sliding dangerously close to disaster, Clint holding on as if his fragile life depended on it.
Bucky watched them all, his eyes softening, sparkling faintly as he saw them like this—human, normal. Uncursed.
Absolutely nothing like him. He was something else entirely. More than cursed. Corrupted. Broken.
Snowflakes drifted down, landing on the sleeve that hid his metal arm. Slowly, he let the metal hand emerge, watching as flakes melted against the cold surface—until his fingers curled tight into a fist.
He looked back at the ice. They were still laughing. Still smiling.
Why am I here?
Why wasn’t he back at the tower? What was the point of being alive like this?
Why were they all out there, skating and laughing, while he stood on the sidelines? Why wasn’t he with them—Steve, Sam, Natasha, Tony, all of them—with his family?
Rhodey and Carol were away for the holidays. Scott and Hope were on their own winter trip. Peter was with Aunt May. Wanda and Vision were also away.
And Steve—Steve was out there with his new circle, laughing, moving on.
So why wasn’t Bucky with him?
Everyone had someone.
So…who did he have?
He smiled faintly as he watched them, then let out another sigh—this one heavier. He slumped forward, burying his face in his arms, his hair falling to hide him completely.
Then he smelled something warm.
It was sweet, rich, and comforting. It was almost like...chocolate.
He lifted his head slightly and saw a recyclable cup, the lid peeled open just enough for steam to curl into the cold air. Gloved hands held it out to him.
He stared as those hands gently guided his flesh hand to the bottom of the cup, his metal one to the side.
He turned his head.
Steve stood beside him, smiling softly—his skates set aside, snow boots back on.
Bucky stared at him, then a second later turned away, holding the cup. He softly blew his breath against the rising steam and took a shy, quick sip, letting the rich heat of the hot chocolate sink in and drive the chill from his bones.
Steve smiled as he rested his arms against the railing, holding his own cup. He took a sip, then gently rested his hand against Bucky’s back.
Bucky felt his smile grow just from having him there. He stared down at the cup, holding onto its warming heat. “Aren't you going to back out there and skate?”
“I came back asking if you wanted to go back to the tower.”
Bucky glanced at the chocolate again, feeling its warmth through the cup. He looked back toward the rink, watching the others still skating as a sharp blast of cold air swept past him, frosting his breath. He shook his head. “No. I’m okay. Cold but okay,” he grinned.
Steve leaned closer, and they drank their chocolates in silence, listening to the Christmas songs drifting through the air. Steve hummed along softly, and Bucky closed his eyes, listening.
Steve kept humming, low and gentle, and Bucky stayed still, letting the sound wash over him. He felt Steve lean closer. “You want to walk in the park?”
Bucky opened his eyes and nodded with a small smile.
Steve answered with a kiss, and together they walked toward the park, still silent, their hands wrapped around their cups as they finished their hot chocolates.
The wide open field around them was blanketed in snow, the cold surface crunching beneath their boots as they walked side by side.
Bucky kept his gaze on the snow-buried path. Steve’s arm rested around his shoulders, warm and steady, as they continued in silence. He took another sip of chocolate and hid a smile as he noticed frost clinging to the ground, the snow shimmering faintly beneath the glow of Christmas lights flickering through the trees.
“You having fun so far?” Steve smirked down at him.
“Besides being cold…I think I am…having fun,” Bucky said, smiling at his cup.
It was honestly much better than being shut away in his room all day. The whole time, he kept noticing that he wasn’t in the tower, wasn’t hiding in his room where he usually stayed.
Steve asked, his eyes fixed on the snowy path and trees ahead, though it looked like he was seeing something far beyond them. “Remember when we were young, just kids, and we played snow fighting together?” he chuckled. “Boy, that was fun.”
“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, his eyes sparkling. “It was fun. Very fun.” He leaned closer as they walked, letting Steve pull him in tighter.
They finished the last drops of their hot chocolate, savoring the lingering warmth before tossing their empty cups away. Bucky slowed, freezing in place as Steve kept walking ahead.
Bucky stared down at the snow, then up at Steve’s back, a grin slowly spreading across his lips.
Steve hummed a merry tune as he walked—until something wet and powdery smacked the back of his head.
“Hey! What–What–Who did–?”
He turned to see Bucky, his gloved hand dusted in white flakes. “Oops. I meant for you to turn around first so I could throw it at your face,” he smirked.
“Oh, so you think you’re going to get away with that, punk?”
“Hm. You tell me, jerk. And if I remember right, I was the one who won that snowball fight,” Bucky smirked back.
Steve grinned, scooped up snow, and threw it. Bucky ducked behind a tree, laughing. “Hah! You missed me, slowpokester!”
A snowball hit him square in the face.
Steve laughed. “Got you, hahaha!” He grunted as another snowball smacked into him. Wiping his face, still laughing, he made another and threw it back.
Bucky laughed too—for the first time in a long while, so hard he’d almost forgotten how it felt. He ducked, grabbed another handful of snow, and threw it as Steve dove behind a tree, the two of them laughing as the snow kept flying at each other.
Natasha and the guys left the skating area to find Steve and Bucky, and they figured the park was the best bet.
“You hear that?” Sam questioned, listening to the sound of laughter.
“It’s coming this way,” Bruce said, pointing, and they followed—soon finding both the culprits and the people they were looking for.
Steve laughed as he got hit by a snowball and threw one back, while Bucky smiled, holding his own. Bruce yelled out behind Bucky, “Hey, guys!”
But neither of them paid any mind—only focused on each other. Those flashes of when they were once like this made it so easy to forget everything else.
Steve laughed as he threw another snowball, and this time Bucky ducked. Before Bruce could react, the snowball hit him directly in the face.
The guys—and Steve and Bucky, who finally noticed them—stared at Bruce. Within seconds, Clint burst out laughing, Sam giggled, Natasha smirked, and Tony grinned.
Bruce brushed the snow off just as he heard Steve shout, “Sorry for the snow washing, Bruce!” he chuckled.
Bruce glared. “Oh, it is on—and you stop your laughing, Barton!” He leaned down, scooped up snow, and hit Clint straight in the face. “That is for having everyone staring at us, you making me fall on the ice, and you laying on top of me!”
Clint wiped the snow away and glanced up. “You got it on!” He threw one back at Bruce, who scooped another and threw it—only for Clint to duck.
Sam reacted quickly, ducking. “Whoa!”
“Yikes!” Natasha yelped as she ducked, and Tony took a snowball straight to the face.
He let out a chilled squeak and wiped the frost flakes away frantically. “Cold! Cold! Cold! Cold! Cold!” he whined, waving his hands.
He opened his eyes to see them all laughing. Steve yelled out, “You have snow up your nose, Stark!” laughing.
“Oh,” Tony snarled. He grabbed his own bundle of snow and aimed it at Steve, hitting him—only for Bucky to throw one at Tony, who ducked just in time. Natasha laughed, scooped up snow, and threw it at Sam, making him grunt as the cold hit.
“Hey! What was that for?!” Sam laughed.
“I found a perfect aim.”
Sam scooped up his own snowball and threw it back at her, and she laughed. With Tony, Bruce, Clint, Sam, and Natasha—and especially Steve and Bucky—the park turned into a full battlefield of snow.
***
In the tower, their winter clothing was being hanged to dry and they snuggled on the couch, with empty spots where Peter, Wanda, Vision, Hope, Scott, and Thor would be—but this was perfect for just them. All of them were wrapped in blankets and robes, warding off the lingering chill from their fun battle in the park, as they watched Christmas specials after special on the TV.
Bucky leaned close to Steve, who held him in return, and Natasha sat beside Bucky, resting her head on his metal shoulder—the same one she had accidentally touched once—but this time, he only responded by resting his hand on her brace, and she let him, holding nothing against the past.
Sam rested with her legs over his lap, Bruce held a mug of hot chocolate, Tony settled in beside them, and Clint slouched on the couch as they all watched the Christmas specials.
Bucky leaned closer to Steve, catching his attention, and Steve smiled. “You think you want to go to the zoo and see the lights with me?”
Bucky smiled. “I love to.”
He kissed his forehead. “Me too.”
Bucky closed his eyes, listening to the TV, and nuzzled close to Steve. It felt just right—so warm—and tonight, in the frosted season, brought back memories of when he had been known as just James Buchanan Barnes, and Steve was just his Steve Grant Rogers.
Those memories hadn’t vanished in the cold.