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Technically, this wouldn't be Bucky and Steve's first Christmas together. It wouldn't even be their second. But their first had taken place not long after Bucky had freed himself from HYDRA, after Steve had freed him from the bottle.
After Steve's I love you. After Bucky's my universe is divided into two parts: you and everything that isn't you.
For so many reasons, that Christmas had passed by mostly unacknowledged. Their second had slipped by after their encounter with the man who'd kidnapped Steve and tried to uncover the secret to his unlimited wishes. Added to Natasha and Sam both being out of town that year, it had been easier just to let it go.
This one, Steve had decided, was going to be different. This might not be their first Christmas together, but it was going to be their first Christmas together—Christmas day to be spent at Sam and Riley's with Nat, everyone on board with the Christmas spirit—and he wanted it to be good. Explaining that to Bucky had been surprisingly easy; there really wasn't anything Bucky wouldn't give him and it wasn't as if he was entirely unfamiliar with the concept of Christmas and all its trappings.
Steve, however, was lacking the Christmas trappings, having jettisoned the nonessentials when he'd moved to San Francisco, including a lifetime of holiday decorations. The only thing he'd kept had been his mother's centrepiece. It was a little tacky, a bright ceramic thing of holly and mistletoe, but every Christmas she'd used it and Steve hadn't been able to throw it away.
No, getting Bucky on board with Christmas hadn't been hard. Convincing him not to magic everything up, now that was a challenge.
"No, Bucky."
"It would be easier."
"Christmas isn't about easy, it's about doing things right. Besides, it'll be part of the fun, getting all new Christmas stuff!"
An extremely doubtful look was Bucky's only response.
"Trust me."
"Steve, I've seen the crowds on TV. It has nothing to do with not trusting you."
Steve knew how Bucky felt about crowds, or more precisely how he felt about Steve in crowds. "Compromise." He smoothed one hand down Bucky's chest, leaned into him as he pressed a light kiss to his jaw. "We'll shop the old fashioned way but you can magic us back and forth and do whatever you have to do to make yourself feel better about the crowds."
"I was going to do that anyway," Bucky muttered, looping his arm securely around Steve's waist. "That doesn't really sound like a compromise."
The Christmas market was a cacophony of lights and music, different songs battling for supremacy as human carolers waged high-pitched war against the sound systems of half a dozen different booths. The crowd moved like a river, people pushing against the flow like spawning salmon fighting their way upstream. Bucky tucked Steve into the lee of his body, arm wrapped around his shoulders as they watched from the sidelines. "Steve, everyone here is insane."
"They're just enthusiastic." Steve winced as two people at a nearby booth started to yell at each other over possession of the last remaining...something. Bucky didn't know what it was. "Very enthusiastic."
Bucky snorted.
"I know. But I want decent decorations, not tacky crap, and that means the market. And no," he quickly added, "no magicking them up. Besides, it's important to support local artists." He tilted his head to grin up at Bucky, both eyebrows slightly raised. "I am one, remember?"
Grumbling, Bucky steered Steve into the flow, keeping him tucked against his side, letting Steve guide them once they were in the crowd.
Even with one arm, Bucky could be incredibly intimidating when he wanted to be and right now, in the middle of this madhouse, he wanted to be. Drawing himself to his full height, glare in full force, he used the smallest touch of magic to keep their path clear. He wasn't letting any of these people get close to Steve. Steve knew what he was doing, Bucky could tell by the side-eye, but he'd told Bucky he could, so he didn't have any room to object.
At least they didn't have to deal with the piles of parcels their fellow sufferers were hauling around with them. After the first stop, Bucky lifted the bag out of Steve's hand, made sure no one was paying attention, and vanished it.
"Bucky..." Steve said, note of warning not quite covering up the relief.
"We shopped for them the old fashioned way, just like you said. You never said we had to drag them around with us afterwards. They're sitting on the living room floor." Bucky kissed the tip of Steve's nose. "Compromise."
Steve shook his head and tugged on the front of Bucky's shirt, pulling him along to the next stall. "You did it without asking. That doesn't really sound like a compromise."
Slipping his arm around Steve's waist, he grinned, looking very pleased with himself. "That sounds familiar. I can't think where I've heard that before."
Steve collapsed on the couch, exhausted, feeling his heart flutter in his chest. His lungs were tight and he grabbed for his inhaler and took a puff, felt them loosen. Bucky kept him comfortable, kept the aches away, but even Bucky's magic couldn't keep his body from catching up with him.
He felt a touch on his shoulder, felt warmth pouring through him, and turned his head to kiss Bucky's hand. "I'm fine. It was just a big day. And we still need to get a tree."
Bucky sat next to him and passed over a steaming mug of coffee, manifested from thin air. "I have an idea about that."
Steve took the mug, sipping it with a happy sigh. "Yeah?"
"I think you'll like it."
"I'm sure I will." He slumped sideways into Bucky, snuggling close, and Bucky wrapped his arm around his shoulders. "Tomorrow, though. I want to get the decorations up tonight."
"You're sure you don't want me to..." A shine of golden fire flared around Bucky's hand and Steve shook his head.
"No, this is something I want us to do together. The old fashioned way," he added.
"You know, given how old I am, if we did it my way that would be the old fashioned way."
Steve rolled his eyes and took another sip of his coffee. "You know what I mean."
"Point still stands, Steve."
"Yes, oh great and powerful genie."
Bucky laughed and kissed Steve's temple. "All right, we'll do it your way."
Most of what they'd bought was for the tree, but there were some decorations for the apartment. Candles, lights for the windows, and a wreath for the door. The lights were the hardest, with the windows stretching floor to ceiling, and with Bucky's one arm and Steve's shortness, Steve relented and Bucky used magic to fasten them along the top. Steve's mother's centrepiece took pride of place on their table.
Steve stood in the middle of their darkened apartment, leaning back against Bucky, admiring the glow of the lights.
"It's beautiful." Bucky sounded surprised.
"Wait until you see it with the tree."
Bucky rested his chin on the top of Steve's head. "This is probably a good time to ask what I should get you as a present."
"I don't know, Bucky. Anything. Nothing. I've got you. I don't really need anything else."
"Gifts are part of Christmas." Bucky nuzzled the skin behind Steve's ear, making him shiver. "If we're doing it, I want us to do all of it."
"Then whatever you want." He turned in Bucky's arm, slipped his arms around Bucky's waist, ran a hand up Bucky's back to curve around Bucky's neck, tangling one hand in his hair. "Anything you want."
"Anything?" Bucky kissed his way down Steve's neck, pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat.
"You know the answer to that is always yes," he said, and then he wasn't saying anything, because he'd pulled Bucky into a kiss.
Bucky laughed softly against his mouth and kissed him back, hot and sweet and slow.
"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Steve asked.
"No."
"But we're going to get a tree, right?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to give me anything but one word answers?"
"Maybe."
Steve threw his gloves at him and Bucky laughed and dodged out of the way. "You're a pain."
"You love me anyway."
Steve huffed. Bucky scooped up his gloves and handed them back, then pulled him close. Bucky's arm was tight around his waist and he felt Bucky's lips brush his forehead. "Close your eyes." Steve closed his eyes and Bucky carried them through the dark and the cold.
He opened them to pine trees in neat, uniform lines as far as he could see, growing out of a perfect blanket of untouched white. The cold made him shiver, stealing into his lungs and making his breath catch, before Bucky's magic settled over him, wrapping him in warmth. "Where are we?"
"Somewhere we can get a tree."
"I don't think we should cut down someone else's tree." He took in exactly how many trees there were, the rows stretching into the distance. "Even if they might not notice."
"We're not. We're going to find your tree and take it home still alive. Then when Christmas is over, we're going to put it back in the ground where it came from." Bucky looked at him uncertainly. "This way the tree doesn't have to die. I thought that would be better."
Surprise and affection bubbled up in him as he realised, "You don't want the tree to die." Bucky shook his head. "I love you."
Bucky broke into a smile. "So it's okay?"
"It's okay." He threaded his fingers through Bucky's. "Come on, let's find a tree."
It didn't take long to find one just the right size. Bucky's magic delicately lifted it out of the ground and wrapped the roots in golden light. The tree shivered like an uncertain animal, then went still, as if suddenly calm.
The tree went between two of the windows, Bucky's magic keeping it in place, keeping it alive and strong, and it seemed to glow with vibrant health. Once it was decorated, they settled on the living room floor to admire their creation.
"I still think the tinsel should have gone on last," Bucky said, leaning back on his elbows.
"No! Because then it covers everything up. Tinsel always goes on first."
"But if you put it on last you could fill the empty spots."
Steve glowered at him.
"Or hide the wires from the lights."
"It goes on first so you can cover the bare branches," Steve said, exasperated, "and so it doesn’t overpower the overall look of the tree!"
"I don't know." Bucky hummed thoughtfully. "I feel like it would be better if it went on last."
Steve opened his mouth, stared suspiciously at Bucky, then closed it. "You don't actually care do you?"
Bucky slowly shook his head.
"You just wanted to see if I'd get riled up about tinsel."
Bucky nodded, grinning unrepentantly.
Steve sighed, but he couldn't stop the answering grin that was tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"You're fun to rile up," Bucky said and stretched out on the floor with his head in Steve's lap. "Steve?"
"Hmm?" It was automatic to run his fingers through Bucky's hair.
"I think I like Christmas."
Steve leaned forward to kiss him. "I'm glad."
Bucky passed a mug of mulled wine up to him and settled himself more comfortably in Steve's lap. Steve sipped the wine, feeling it curl pleasantly in his belly, sending little tendrils of warmth through him. Bucky's eyes were closed and Steve gently stroked his cheek, making him smile softly.
Steve still didn't know what to get him for Christmas, but he wanted it to be something good. Something that showed him how much he loved him, but really, what did you give a genie? What did you give someone who was spending his immortal life with you? Who was choosing not to use all of his power, to compromise, for you? Who was choosing to keep a mortal form with only one arm because that was the body that knew you? Bucky had given him so much, Bucky had given him everything. If they didn't already have the link—unconsciously, he rubbed his sternum—he could give him that, but—
Oh.
You're human. I could lose you to random chance, to some stupid accident, to human malice. I will not let that happen. I will not lose you.
Bucky's words from that day were forever burned in his memory, Bucky's desperation, his fear, not something Steve could ever forget. But even with the link, even with all of his power, he was going to lose Steve.
There was nothing either of them could do to change it.
Steve loved Bucky more than life. It wasn't careless words or romantic hyperbole. It was fact. He knew it. When he'd been about to die his only fear, his only regret, had been that he couldn't save Bucky. His love for Bucky was so strong some days he thought he'd happily drown in it.
Was it stronger than his pride?
He looked down at the genie, his genie, his golden-eyed immortal being of magic who loved him, who was curled around him like a giant housecat, and traced the line of his cheekbone. Bucky turned his head and kissed the tip of his finger, lips curving in a quiet smile.
Steve was overwhelmed with a rush of emotion so strong it made his eyes prickle.
God, he loved him.
Bucky was going to lose him. Their days together were numbered, counting down with each irregular beat of Steve's heart. But there was a way to buy Bucky a little more time. Not much, maybe just the tiniest bit, but maybe every second counted.
Bucky had offered it to him what felt like a lifetime ago.
Maybe...maybe he could say yes.
Not for himself, but for Bucky.
He kept thinking about it over the next few days leading up to Christmas Eve. He was distracted enough that Bucky noticed. "You okay, Steve?"
"What? Oh, yeah. I'm fine."
"You sure?" Bucky came to stand in front of him, brushed his fingers against Steve's cheek and cradled his jaw.
"I'm sure."
"Because you didn't notice."
"Notice what?"
Bucky tilted his head and Steve looked where he was pointing to see... "A fireplace?"
It was a fireplace, grey stone with a wooden mantelpiece, flames crackling merrily away. "Just for Christmas," Bucky said quickly. "You need somewhere to hang your stocking." Bucky had been just a little too intrigued by Santa Claus and Steve had needed to do some fast talking to explain it was just a story for children. He still wasn't completely convinced that he, at least—and maybe Sam and Nat—wasn't going to wake up to a mysteriously filled stocking on Christmas morning.
Steve turned his head to kiss Bucky's hand. "I love it."
Christmas Eve rolled around, obedient to the passage of time. The tree, still vibrant and glowing with life, had no presents under its branches from either of them. "You're getting a present," Bucky reassured Steve. "It's just not something you can wrap." He stopped, looked thoughtful, then grinned slyly. "Actually, I could wrap it but I don't think you'd be happy with me if I did."
"Yours isn't something I can wrap, either." Steve slipped his arms around Bucky and leaned his cheek against Bucky's shoulder, a little nervous now that the moment was here. "Go and sit down on the couch?"
"You have to let go of me first." Bucky leaned back so he could see Steve. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong." Steve smiled up at him. "Just a little..." He shrugged. "Go sit down. I'm going to make us some hot chocolate and then I'll give you yours."
Bucky cupped the back of Steve's head, kissed his forehead and held him close for a moment, then went and sat on the couch. Steve busied himself in the kitchen, making hot chocolate and adding a generous measure of brandy, trying to work out how best to broach the subject.
He hadn't quite decided when he set both mugs on the side table and settled on the floor at Bucky's feet. "I thought long and hard about what to get you and I finally found something." Steve folded his fingers around the hem of Bucky's jeans, knuckles brushing his ankle. "But it's kind of a strange gift."
Bucky poked him gently with a sock-clad toe. "It wouldn't be you if it wasn't strange."
"No, it's—" He shook his head, laughing a little at himself. "I'm explaining this badly."
Bucky slipped off the couch to sit next to Steve. "So don't explain, just tell me."
"I guess," he paused, meeting Bucky's golden eyes, a bit unsure about asking this way, "I need something like a wish."
Shock washed over Bucky's face, quickly replaced by confusion. "Your Christmas present to me is that you need a wish?"
"If you'll give me one."
"Of course I'll give you one. You can have anything you want." Bucky's eyes were glowing a soft gold and it took Steve's breath away. "You know my powers are yours. I'll give you the world if you want it."
"I love you." He had to lean in, catch Bucky's face between his hands, and kiss him. Bucky slid his arm around his waist, pulling him closer, returning the kiss with enthusiasm, started pressing little kisses across Steve's chin, down Steve's neck. Steve drew in a deep breath and made himself pull away. Bucky let him go, chasing after him just long enough to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.
Steve dropped his forehead to Bucky's shoulder, breathed in the warmth of him and let go of his last lingering doubts. "Do you remember," he said. "When you offered to fix me?"
"As if I could forget. You were so angry and I didn't understand. Even after you explained, I believed you, but I still didn't understand. You were such a strange human, beyond anything I'd ever known, and I—" He stopped. Frowned. Wrapped his hand around Steve's shoulder and gently pushed him away so he could study his face. "Steve?"
"I'm still proud of who I am, of everything I am. Nothing will ever change that. You've never treated me like I'm less because of the things that are wrong with me. But there are things wrong with me and even though you keep me from feeling them most of the time, they're still there. Maybe in the grand scheme of things they might not make that much difference, but," he paused, "but maybe they mean I'm not going to live quite as long as I could." Bucky stilled, the hand on Steve's shoulder tightening. "And I won't let us miss out on time we could be together. Not one hour, not one second, not one moment. Not for anything and sure as hell not for my pride. I still don't think you're fixing me. I'm not broken."
Bucky's voice was fierce as he said, "You're not. You never were."
"But I'm not going to let my pride outweigh my love. I'm not going to let you lose me sooner than you have to. You will lose me, there's nothing either of us can do about it." Bucky's eyes were deep gold and he was hardly breathing. "But I can do this. I can give us as much time together as we can possibly have. Because I'm in this forever, Bucky. And I want forever to be as forever as it can. So my gift to you is...me. For as long as I can possibly give you."
"But Steve," Bucky took Steve's hand, "you don't want—"
"I do." He squeezed Bucky's hand, hard, hard enough to hurt, maybe, but he needed him to believe. "For you, for us, Bucky, I do want it." He held Bucky's eyes, watched the deep gold lighten as Bucky studied him, watched his whole body seem to glow as he understood Steve was serious, but Bucky gently freed his hand and caught Steve's chin.
"Steve, you have to be sure. You need to be sure. Because I can't undo it. I can't," Bucky stroked his thumb across Steve's cheek, "I could, my power could, but I couldn't, I couldn't hurt you like that, so you need to be sure."
"Bucky." Steve felt everything settle and there was nothing inside him but peace. "I'm so sure."
Bucky's eyes flared gold and golden fire crawled across his skin to wreathe around them both, warm and glowing. "Now?"
"Yes."
Bucky slipped his hand under Steve's shirt and flattened it over Steve's heart as he caught his mouth in a kiss. Heat spread through him, flaring out from the points of contact, intense, overwhelming, but there was no pain. He wound his fingers in Bucky's hair, pulling him closer, and as he deepened the kiss Bucky's magic poured through him and he fell away into a world of golden light.
Eventually, they broke apart, Steve gasping for breath. He felt different. He couldn't breathe because of how long he'd been kissing Bucky, not because his lungs were tight. His heart was racing because of Bucky, but it was smooth and even. Nothing hurt, nothing felt wro— No, everything felt wrong because nothing felt normal and he stared at Bucky, eyes wide.
Bucky, who was suddenly apprehensive. "I didn't add anything, I didn't make you superhuman," he said quickly, fingers stroking gently against Steve's skin. "I just...changed what wasn't working properly. That's all."
"Bucky." Steve kissed him softly. "I trust you. You don't have to explain. It's just," he rubbed Bucky's hand through his shirt, "going to take some getting used to." It was going to take a bit more than getting used to. His life had just fundamentally changed, he had just fundamentally changed. At some point he was going to react to that, he knew, but for now he could set it aside.
"You've got our whole forever. Thank you," he slid his hand around to the small of Steve's back, leaned in to kiss him, "thank you," he said against Steve's mouth. "Steve..." Words failing him, he kissed him again, soft and slow, but Steve pushed his hands under Bucky's shirt, dragged him closer and it didn't stay slow, turned hot and needy, and Bucky was pushing him down, pulling his shirt up and kissing his way down his chest.
They didn't talk for some time, but for some things they didn't need words.
"I never gave you your present," Bucky said later, running his hand down Steve's spine.
"Tomorrow?"
"There's still time tonight, if you're not too tired." He nuzzled Steve's temple. "You need to get dressed, though. It's a place, not a thing."
Steve thought about it. He was content, sprawled across Bucky, warm and happy, but Bucky was looking hopeful and Steve didn't have it in him to say no. "I'd love to, Bucky. Do I get to know where we're going?"
"No." Bucky lifted Steve to his feet and, after a not-so-quick shower, they were dressed and ready to go. "Close your eyes," he said, holding Steve close, and they disappeared into the dark.
Natasha had helped him narrow it down, but Bucky had chosen this gift. Had chosen where exactly to bring Steve, because he knew it would be instantly recognisable.
As they appeared together from the blackness of not-being, Steve a block of heat against his body, Bucky whispered, "Keep your eyes shut."
Steve did as he was told. "I'm getting awfully curious here, Bucky."
Bucky checked they'd come out in the right place and that the lights were on, illuminating the huge room, and carefully turned Steve around. "Okay, open them."
"Bucky, what?" He went still and quiet. "Is that?" He slowly walked forward and stopped, barely a foot from the small painting. "That's the Mona Lisa." Slowly, he turned in a circle, taking in the walls hung with canvasses. "Bucky, this is the Louvre."
"And it's all yours." It was still night-time, the only people in the place were a handful of security, and Bucky's magic would make sure they weren't seen, not by human eyes or electronic.
"Bucky..." Steve trailed off, turning in another slow circle.
"Do you like it?"
"I don't. Bucky. Like isn't the word. This is, it's...thank you. I've always wanted to come here. Some of the greatest art in the world is here. I mean, I've seen pictures of it, I've studied it, but seeing it for real," he shook his head, "with no one else here? This is like a dream."
This couldn't come close to what Steve had given him. Steve had offered Bucky the chance to give him what he'd never thought Steve would allow him to give. Something he'd been aching to give. Not because Bucky thought he was broken, not because Steve needed to be fixed. Steve was his beautiful, infuriating human, perfect as he was, the other half of Bucky's universe, but he was fragile like every other human was fragile. For all his power, for all his care, Bucky could lose him. Would lose him, but that day was maybe a little farther away than it had been. For Steve to give them that, to make that choice... I won't let us miss out on time we could be together. Not one hour, not one second, not one moment. "Not one moment," he murmured.
"Bucky?"
"Nothing." No, this could never equal what Steve had given him. But to give Steve something good, something that made him happy, something he'd always wanted, warmed him to his toes. "Where do you want to go first?"
Practically bouncing, Steve spun to take in the paintings, lingering on each one, then strode determinedly out of the gallery, a man with a mission, Bucky trailing behind.
As they made their way through the silent Louvre, past paintings and sculpture, past the remnants of human civilisations—some of which Bucky remembered, some of whom he'd granted wishes to while he'd been bound to a bottle—it shifted something inside of him. He saw pain and longing and loss but above all, everywhere he looked, in every decade, in every century, he saw love. It was a reminder that humans were more than the hell he'd experienced when he'd been bound and trapped and tortured, that they could create beauty and grace.
Even without that reminder, humans had, at the end of it all, given him Steve. And Steve was everything.
Bucky gently stroked his fingers down the back of Steve's neck. Steve, without turning, reached up and took his hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed it, then held it against his heart. "Merry Christmas, Bucky."
"Merry Christmas, Steve."