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There was no reason to be nervous. None at all. Bucky was solid, he had this, he –
"Enough," Natasha ordered, grabbing his knee to still the tremors. "Take a breath, you're scaring the driver."
"Sorry." He smiled his apology to their Uber driver, then half-twisted in his seat to look at Natasha. "You don't think this is weird, right? Is this weird? Maybe...maybe we shouldn't go?"
"Steve invited you to this party. Invited us," she amended, forestalling his interruption. "Why would he do that if he didn't want you there?"
"I don't know, maybe he felt bad because of the mix-up, maybe he was trying to be nice, maybe… he's a nice guy." Nice and amazing and incredibly hot and sweet and had a smile that shone brighter than the Northern Lights and he was so out of Bucky's league they may as well be on different planes of existence. "Who knows how nice guys think."
"You should." She squeezed his knee again. "You're one of the nicest guys I know, James."
He shook his head. "Not like Steve," he said.
Steve was the gold standard of nice and good and everything that was awesome in the world. And, sure they'd only met this morning, but he already knew how Steve's laughter was like a summer breeze, and how cute he looked when he blushed, and how well their hands had fit together, not to mention how much Steve's texts had made him laugh all day, with their wry observations and witty replies.
"Such a romantic." But Natasha smiled as she said it. "Besides, you've been texting with him ever since we left Gregory's. That should mean something."
He thought about the small thrill that had shot through him all morning and into the afternoon, every time his phone had chimed with a new notification from Steve. He still couldn't believe Steve had actually given Bucky his number, that he'd answered when Bucky'd texted him. That he'd kept the conversation going between them all day, despite Bucky's fumbling attempts at cleverness (a total failure) and even more fumbling attempts at flirting (the less said about that, the better).
Which just proved Bucky's point.
"Maybe...maybe he was just being polite," he ventured. "I mean, I did kind of put him on the spot with the whole holding his hand and buying him coffee thing."
"Oh for..." Natasha leaned forward to address their Uber driver. "Can you talk some sense into him for me?"
"I don't know, man, sounds to me like the guy's into you," the driver said. "I'm just saying, I wouldn't text someone all day and invite them to a swank party on the Upper East Side unless I wanted to get to know them better."
"Thank you," Natasha said. "What's your name again?"
"Rashod."
She turned back to Bucky. "If you won't listen to me, listen to Rashod."
"Okay, say he is. Say he, I don't know, had some fit of insanity and thought I seemed like someone he wanted to get to know better. He's gonna spend ten minutes with me at the party and know I'm a total dork and then – Nat." Bucky forced himself to take a breath. Tried to quell the panic rising within him like a balloon filled with way too much helium. "I like him. I...I can't even explain it. But when I saw him this morning, it was like...it was like everything just made sense."
He didn't add the other part – that he could honestly see himself marrying Steve and them making a life and growing old together, waking up to Steve's smile and that low, silky-smooth voice every day for the rest of his life. He already knew Natasha thought he was nuts; no need to add more fuel to the fire.
"Yes, I remember. I was there," she reminded him, with a small smile. "I'm pretty sure you started planning out what you were going to name the kids you'd be adopting the second you laid eyes on him."
Bucky thunked against the headrest, and groaned. Was it too late to ask Rashod to turn them around and drop him back off at his apartment? "See, weird. I'm being weird."
"You're being adorable."
"I agree with your friend," Rashod said. "It's very cute. And very refreshing to see a good-looking man acting nervous."
"Uh, thanks," Bucky replied. He could just feel the heat starting to suffuse his cheeks.
"I mean, I don't swing that way, but objectively speaking, you've got nothing to worry about in the looks department."
Natasha peered at him. "Oh my God, you're actually blushing, this is adorable."
"I'm a wreck is what I am." Bucky groaned again. "I talked about our future grandkids with Steve. While we were still getting coffee. Right after we'd just met." Sheesh, he was such a basket case. And then he'd leaned in and kissed Steve, like some sort of Neanderthal putting his mark on someone, and oh boy, was that harassment? That was totally harassment. Bucky would be lucky if Steve didn't greet him with a punch right on the mouth.
"Besides, since I was there," Natasha continued, either oblivious to Bucky's freakout (unlikely) or trying to ease him down off his emo ledge (far more likely), "I can tell you firsthand that your Steve was just as smitten. So relax already."
His Steve. God, he hoped. He really really hoped.
"Sure, relax," Bucky said. He needed a drink.
***
Bucky smoothed his hands over his coat again, and let out a breath, puffing tiny white clouds into the chill night air. Up and down the block, Christmas lights were hung up along stoops and in the windows, twinkling in the inky-black sky like fairy lights. Warm and welcoming and more than a little bit magical.
Right now, Bucky would settle for a little bit of magic. He was decades too old for Santa, but he figured asking for a little help from him or his elves or, hell, even the reindeer, couldn't hurt.
Please, don't let me blow this with Steve, I'll be a better person and donate to more charities and help more old ladies across the street and –
A deceptively slender hand cradled his own and squeezed. He looked down to see Natasha smiling at him. Under her knit cap, bright red curls spilled out, framing her face. "Ring the bell," she said. "And don't forget to breathe."
"Ring bell, breathe, got it," he said, and did as instructed. Dimly, he could hear the chime through the solid oak of the door. "Thank you for coming with me, by the way." She was a good friend. He was lucky to have her in his corner.
"Oh, I'm not doing this purely out of the kindness of my heart," she said, with a mischievous grin, and Bucky wanted to ask what she meant, but then the door was opening, and Steve's friend Peggy was standing there, looking radiantly beautiful, wearing a wrap-around red dress that was...well. If Bucky wasn't already completely infatuated with Steve, he knew he'd be falling over himself to get Peggy's attention. She was, to quote something his grandfather used to say about his grandma, a total knockout.
"James, Natasha," Peggy cooed, "how wonderful. Come in, come in." She closed the door behind them, shutting out the wind. "Steve will be delighted, he's been on – there you are, Steve, look who's here."
Bucky had thought he'd be better prepared to see Steve again. After all, he knew what to expect now, knew the way golden bangs fell across that high forehead, knew the length of those absurd eyelashes and the slope of his brows, had felt the gentle strength in Steve's grip and the softness of those lips pressed against his own. And yet, still, his breath caught, trapped in his lungs, as Steve walked towards them.
He was wearing charcoal, tailored slacks that fit those slim hips and strong thighs perfectly, and a forest green sweater that looked as soft as cotton-puff clouds, and his smile was radiant, like the sun – like all of the suns – and Bucky wanted to sit down right where he was and tilt his face up to that smile and bask in its warmth for the rest of his life.
He was so, so very fucked.
"Oh wow, you, um..." Steve's eyes, so large and beautiful and the same dark-blue of the twilight sky, widened behind the black frames of his glasses as he stopped in front of their small group. "You're here."
Bucky nodded in lieu of speaking. He didn't think he could make a sound if his life depended on it. And if he could, he was sure it would be some babbling combination of God you're gorgeous and I want to kiss you until your glasses fog up. Which probably wouldn't help his cause of trying to behave like an actual human being and not a total disaster.
Peggy glanced between the both of them and sighed dramatically. "Come along, Natasha, I'll show you where to put your coat and introduce you to everyone."
"Gladly," Natasha said, and linked arms with Peggy, walking away and leaving Bucky all alone with Steve to die a slow, tongue-tied death.
"You..." Steve made an aborted gesture Bucky's way. "You're here. Wait, I said that already, I'm sorry."
Bucky jerked out a nod. He was certainly here, alright. Right here, in front of Steve, who smelled all woodsy and nice, and looked like Bucky's every erotic fantasy about hot librarian hipsters come to life. This was totally a thing that was happening.
"I, uh..." Steve clutched at his nape, his smile sheepish, an unexpected shot right to Bucky's feels. "I didn't think you'd – I mean, I wasn't sure you'd be able to – I mean, I wasn't expecting you'd show up."
Oh. Oh fuck.
Bucky's shoulders fell, and his entire future happiness fell with them. Too late, he found his voice. "You didn't mean the invite, did you? We shouldn't have come, you were just being polite, I knew it."
This was so embarrassing. He was going to have to move from New York now, just to avoid the possibility of running into Steve again.
"No, that's not –" Steve grabbed hold of Bucky's hand when he started to turn to go outside to stick his head in a snowdrift. "That's not what I meant. Of course I want you here, I just...I didn't think you'd come."
"Why would you think that?" Bucky asked, unsure how he was supposed to respond. They were still crowded in Steve's friend's foyer. Bucky was still wearing his coat. Which would make it easier, Bucky supposed, since it seemed like he was going to have to beat a hasty retreat and head to the nearest bar to drown his sorrows in a lot of alcohol. He had to be the only person in all of existence who'd fuck up meeting the most beautiful man in the world. Where the hell was all of the charm he prided himself on when he needed it most?
"Because..." Those impossibly wide shoulders shrugged. "People don't tend to...I mean, I'm not the sort of guy who gets... You're a really attractive person."
Which, okay, that...sounded promising. Right?
"Okay?" Bucky looked down at Steve's hand, comfortably ensconced in his own. They were holding hands, just like this morning. And, just like then, the touch filled some deep, aching void inside him he hadn't even realized he was missing.
Steve offered a shy smile, one that crinkled his nose delightfully. "Attractive people don't... What I mean is, you're just way out of my league is all."
All thoughts of throwing himself off the Brooklyn Bridge or changing his name and moving to Sioux City, Iowa came to a screeching halt. Steve thought...wait, what? Was he blind? (Wait, scratch that, he already knew Steve was blind without his glasses.) Was he nuts? How could he...?
"You're kidding, right?" he finally asked, certain his shock had to be written all over his body in neon font. "Steve, have you looked in a mirror ever? You're, like..." Bucky gestured at him with his free hand. "I'm not trying to be creepy or anything, but you're the most beautiful person I've ever met. If anything, you're out of my league."
"God, no, I'm just." A charming flush stained those sharply defined cheeks. "I look like a librarian."
"Yes, you do," Bucky agreed, feeling his own cheeks turn pink. "You look like the sexiest librarian to have ever libraried."
"Oh." The blush settled and seemed to spread outwards to Steve's perfectly delightful ears. "You...you're not just here because you still feel bad? About this morning, I mean?"
"What, no, I thought..." He let out a soft laugh, and swung their hands a little as the doubt that had started to take hold of him retreated back to the shadows. Steve wanted him here. Steve thought he was attractive. Steve, his foolish, beautiful Steve, mistakenly thought Bucky was out of his league. "I thought you were only being nice to me because of this morning."
"It's fine, you don't have to...wait, you thought what?" Steve blinked at him, his very full and very distracting lips parting slightly. "You think I'm beautiful?"
Bucky nodded and, taking another breath and a massive leap of faith, raised his other hand to brush along the sharp line of Steve's jaw. The skin under his thumb was bristly and warm, like the promise of summer and days spent lounging on the beach, soaking in the sun. "I told you this morning I noticed you as soon as you and Peggy walked in. I couldn't take my eyes off of you."
"Oh," Steve breathed again, those beautiful eyes unusually large behind his ridiculously sexy hipster librarian glasses.
Bucky swayed forward, drawn closer as if by some invisible string, and he thought he saw Steve shifting closer as well, close enough to –
"Steve, my boy, introduce me to your friend!"
They both jumped apart as if scalded. Steve whirled around, frowning, as they faced a slightly older, mustached man with rakishly combed dark hair, wearing the world's most obnoxiously-bright knitted Christmas sweater. It had dancing flamingos and day-glo wreaths stretched across the front. Bucky couldn't stop staring. It was the ugliest – and most amazing – thing he'd ever seen. He wanted twenty, so he could pass them out to his friends as gifts.
"Jeez, Howard, you need a bell around your neck or something," Steve grumbled.
Howard shrugged, unrepentant. "And spoil all my fun?" he asked. "So, who's the new guy?"
"Oh, um." Steve turned back to Bucky with another bashful smile. "Bucky, this is my friend Howard. He's hosting...I mean, this is his place. He lives here. Um, anyway, Howard, this is Bucky."
"Oh, so this is the knight in shining armor from this morning," Howard said, and stuck out a hand. "It's good to meet you."
They shook hands, Bucky still trying to parcel out what Howard was talking about. "Knight in shining armor?"
"Yes, rescuing our fair maiden Steve from his own blindness." Howard nudged Steve. "He's forever getting himself into trouble. Although trying to hold hands with strange girls so he can pick up cute boys is a new one."
Steve's cheeks went a delightfully darker shade of pink. "Thanks, Howard. That's not what –"
"Eh, close enough for government work. It got your boy to the party, right?" Howard grinned at Bucky. "Any friend of Steve's is a friend of mine. Make yourself at home, bar's over there, make sure Steve makes your drink personally, and you can throw your coat wherever. I think Steve knows everyone here, so I'll let him introduce you around," he said, and wandered off to go chat with another group.
"God, Buck, I'm sorry, you're probably dying for a drink by now," Steve said, with an apologetic smile. "Come on, you can put your coat with mine in the guest room."
Bucky followed Steve down the hallway, marveling at the opulence of the light fixtures and beautifully framed art that looked like it belonged in a museum somewhere. Not to mention the mahogany bedroom suite in the guest room, complete with an actual marble floor and richly textured wallpaper on the walls.
"Your friend, uh, you didn't mention he had money," Bucky commented, as he took off his coat and hat and handed them to Steve. He quickly smoothed his hair back, and retied it into a bun at his nape.
"Yeah, the family's loaded, but don't let that intimidate you," Steve replied, offering another one of those endearingly sweet smiles. "Howard's a good guy. He'll talk your ear off about science and techy shit all day if you let him – I can only follow about half of what he's talking about – and Peggy tends to be the only one who can rein in his crazier impulses when he tries to get going."
"How'd you meet him?"
"College," Steve replied, walking with Bucky back down the hall and into the main living room. There were a few groups of people with cocktails lounging on the sofas and, through the doorway, Bucky could see Natasha in the dining room, sitting at the end of a large oak table and talking to Peggy and a few other people. She looked happy enough, so Bucky was content to leave her to it and spend his time getting to know Steve better.
"You roomed together or something?" he asked, turning back to Steve.
"No, he was a TA in my physical science class my freshman year. Saved my ass from flunking out, too," Steve replied, stepping behind the bar and gesturing at the frankly overwhelming array of bottles. Howard's personal stash could rival some of the actual bars Bucky'd been to in the heart of the Village.
"You, um, what can I get you?" Steve asked. "It's fully stocked, obviously, I mean, you can see that, duh, um, but whatever you want, I can make."
"I don't know, something with gin? " Bucky said, watching with interest as Steve deftly mixed together equal parts Langley's and vermouth and Campari, and handed it to him with an orange peel garnish. "Wow, that looks...really professional." Almost too pretty to drink, in fact, but when Bucky took a sip, he was pleasantly surprised at the kick. "This is really good."
Steve smiled, shy but pleased. (Bucky already loved that smile a lot. Like, a lot a lot.) "Thanks. Believe it or not, I bartended my way through college, so I know my way around proper mixology." Steve made himself something with Belvedere vodka and ginger beer and lemon slices that also looked amazing. "It's how I met my editor."
"Editor?" For the first time, Bucky realized he had no idea what Steve did for a living. "Right, you mentioned a deadline this morning. You a writer?" As smart and witty as Steve's texts had been, Bucky could see it.
"Kinda." Steve took a small sip of his own drink, and made a satisfied face. "Comic book artist, but I'm also working on writing and drawing my own series."
"Comic book artist?" Bucky leaned his elbows on the bar, intrigued. "Anything I might've read?"
"I don't know, do you read comics?"
Bucky thought about the boxes of read and much-beloved comics he had in his apartment and the stack of unread issues sitting by his bedside, and coughed. "Um, yeah, you could say that."
"Well, um, I've been working with Ed Brubaker for the last year and I just started a project with Brian Michael Bendis on his latest –"
"Wait, Ed Brubaker?" Bucky's jaw hit the floor. His fanboy, geeky heart tumbled right off a cliff as Steve's words filtered through his brain. Steve was – Steve was – "You're Steve Rogers??? You're drawing the Captain America comics? That's you?"
Holy shit, his future husband was a fucking artistic genius.
Steve nodded, that small, pleased smile flitting across his face again. "You know it?"
"Do I know it, he asks." Bucky had to fight from jumping up and down in joy like some raving lunatic. The best day of his life had just gotten a million times better. The man of his dreams was not only gorgeous and smart and funny, he was also an honest-to-God amazeballs artist. "It's only the best comic running right now outside of Coates' Black Panther run. And you're...you're Steve Rogers, I mean...wow. I feel like I should be buying you a drink or, I don't know, begging you for spoilers for upcoming issues – wait, don't actually spoil me."
Steve pushed his glasses up his nose and cleared his throat. "Well, uh, wow, that's...I mean, I've just been thrilled to play in that sandbox. Cap's such a great character. It's an honor to just be a small part of his story."
"A small part? Are you kidding, your art is why I got into the series in the first place," Bucky said, awed right down to his toes. "The way you frame shots is just... I mean, the warehouse battle between Cap and The Winter Soldier, that was some of the best storytelling I've seen, and there's no dialogue even in it. And their reunion scene when Cap rescues The Winter Soldier from Lukin? Come on, you totally made a grown man tear up with how you drew those pages."
Steve blinked, those long lashes fluttering like butterfly wings. "You cried? Really?"
"Damn right I did," Bucky replied, nodding in emphasis. "You're really talented." He was gushing, and he knew he was losing all of the cool points ever, but somehow, he didn't think Steve would mind.
"Wow, um." Steve cleared his throat and let out a tiny, pleased laugh. "That's, um, thank you. Making a living drawing and telling stories is all I ever wanted to do," he said, and gestured at Bucky. "What about you? What do you do for work?"
"Robotics engineer," Bucky replied, and took another sip of his truly excellent drink. Steve was all kinds of extraordinary in a lot of ways, it seemed. "It's not as cool as it sounds...which, okay, that's not true. Sometimes it is as cool as it sounds. But most of the time it's a lot of sitting in front of a computer screen designing software and running about a billion tests."
"Sounds pretty cool to me," Steve replied, giving him an impressed look. "You and Howard'll have a lot to talk about, then."
"How's that?"
"That's his field, too," Steve said. "Robotics, I mean."
Bucky straightened up. "No shit?"
"No shit. You two can tech talk and lord over being smarter than the rest of us mere mortals," Steve teased, with a warm look that Bucky wanted to bottle up and carry around with him forever.
"If by smarter than everyone else, you mean probably trying to totally out-nerd each other, then sure." Bucky grinned, relaxing into the conversation. So far so good. Steve hadn't run off screaming yet or left him to his own devices to go mingle with everyone else. "But I hang out with a bunch of other giant nerds all day and talk geek, so it's not like I mind."
"I can relate." Steve grinned back, showing a hint of white teeth, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to lean forward and nibble on Steve's lower lip for about a year, give or take.
He hurriedly took another sip of his drink to cover the fact that he'd been totally perving over Steve's mouth. "Yeah, I guess you can," he said, once he felt it was safe to speak.
Steve came out from the bar and took the stool next to Bucky. "Your family must be proud of you."
Bucky risked a quick glance down at Steve's thigh, pressing comfortable and close, against his own, and had to take a second to remember what they were even talking about. Family, right. Damn, just being around Steve was terrible for his equilibrium and his cognitive thinking. Somehow, he couldn't find it in himself to care that much. What was a little higher thinking compared with being cozied next to Steve and all of his Steveness?
"My mom and dad, sure, they think I'm going to be the next Elon Musk or something," he said. "My sisters, however, think I'm building Cyberdyne Systems."
"Aren't we already living in the age of Skynet?" Steve asked, with a low chuckle.
Steve knew about Skynet and Cyberdyne. Steve was a Terminator fan. Be still Bucky's already totally-in-love heart. Was it too soon to pop the question? Probably. That really would be weird, right?
But he was sure his goofy, besotted look had to at least give a little of his thoughts away. He'd always been told he had a terrible poker face. "Yeah, but we're a long way off from the T-1000 or anything close to it."
"That's good to know," Steve said, with another sweet smile. "So, you have a big family?"
"Oldest of four, and my mom is the middle of five and my dad's the youngest of three. Family reunions and holidays are a madhouse, but I mean that in the best way." Bucky couldn't wait to introduce Steve to the entire brood – his youngest sister, Kristen, was especially going to eat him up with a spoon. "They're all upstate, though. That's where I'm from – outside Watertown. Chaumont, to be exact. How about you?"
He wanted to know everything there was about Steve, from birth up until this morning at Gregory's. Every single minute, every decision and heartache and joy, all of the memories and experiences that made Steve the incredible man he was.
"Here. I mean, technically Brooklyn, but I was raised in the City," Steve said. "In HK, before the hipsters and theatre crowd took it over. It's just me and my mom, though. My dad, he died when I was just a baby."
Bucky's heart ached in sympathy. "Mom never remarried?" he asked quietly, itching to pull Steve into the world's longest hug. He looked like he could use one or ten, and Bucky prided himself on his exceptional hugging skills. He put a lot of thought and effort into them – correct pressure and comfort and length, multiplied by the huggee's general need for human contact and affection. It was a tried and true equation.
"No, she...I don't think she ever got over my dad, to be honest. Um, anyway," Steve said, with a small, hesitant shrug, "this is a heavy topic for a first date." He tensed, eyes widening behind his glasses. "Not that this is a first date...I mean, I'm not expecting..."
First date? Bucky gave himself a mental fist bump and his inner soundtrack started blaring the Rocky theme music. He knocked their knees against each other as he ducked his head to see Steve's blush up close and personal, pleased when Steve didn't move away. And decided to go right for the knockout punch. "What if I wanted it to be a first date?"
Steve swallowed. His tongue flicked out nervously – and very distractingly – over his lips. "You do?" he breathed. "You would?"
Bucky nodded, so fast he was sure he was going to give himself whiplash. Which would be totally worth it. "Absolutely. Unless you want to count coffee this morning as the first date, because that's fine, too."
"God," Steve groaned, slapping his hand against his flaming cheek and dragging it down to his chest, "can we just forget that ever happened?"
"Absolutely not," Bucky told him. He never wanted to forget this morning as long as he lived. "If you hadn't tried to hold Nat's hand, I might not have ever worked up the courage to talk to you."
"You don't..." Steve's tongue flickered out again, just as distracting the second time. "You don't strike me as the shy type."
"You'd be surprised. I get pretty stupid and tongue-tied around someone I really like." Case in point, he wanted to say, but he didn't want to scare Steve off by coming on too strong too soon. Just because he was mentally naming all of the kids they'd be adopting after they got married was no reason to make things awkward.
"Oh," Steve said, soft and a little stunned.
"Yeah. Oh." And since he was feeling emboldened, both by the way Steve was looking at him, and the fact that he hadn't stumbled all over himself too badly, he put down his glass and held out a hand. "Dance with me?" he asked, and cocked his head.
Steve closed his hand over Bucky's, dry and so warm and still the perfect fit. "Sure," he said, "but I'll warn you now, I'm not very good at it."
"I'll take that chance," Bucky replied, and stood, bringing Steve to his feet and walking them to the cleared space in the living room. Over the speakers, Bing Crosby and David Bowie were crooning about Peace On Earth and, as Bucky put his arms around Steve's waist to pull him in close, he couldn't imagine a more perfect song for their first dance together.
"You're doing great," he murmured, after a minute of them shuffling around; close enough that Bucky could feel the steady thump of Steve's heart against his own, close enough to feel the strength in the arms wrapped so carefully around his back, like he was something valuable or priceless, even. It completely tilted his world; he wasn't used to anyone treating him like he was rare or precious.
Steve's quiet laugh was warm against Bucky's neck. "I feel like I'm going to step on your toes."
"You won't." Bucky pulled away just enough to look Steve in the eyes. This close, the color – a clear, beautiful cobalt – reminded Bucky of gemstones. Sparkling with vitality, mesmerizing in the light. "But even if you did, that just means we need to keep dancing until you're comfortable."
Steve laughed again as Bucky eased them into a turn. "Oh, is that how it works?"
"I don't make the rules, Steve," Bucky replied, with a nonchalant shrug that belied the way his heart was racing. "I just follow them."
"That's because you're a nice guy. The nicest even," Steve added, swaying with him easy and slow, like they'd been dancing together all their lives.
"Nah, not compared to you. You're a total Captain America on the nice scale," Bucky teased, pulling him closer. Over Steve's shoulder, he could see Natasha and Peggy, now sitting all cozy on one of the sofas, drinks in hand, both of them giving him a big thumbs up. He winked back, pleased that he had their approval.
"Hardly," Steve scoffed, but he still had that charming blush on his cheeks.
"Definitely," Bucky argued. "You're my own personal superhero, and you don't even need the tights."
Steve ducked his head, but Bucky could still see the hint of a smile on Steve's lips. "Thanks."
They took another turn, Bucky lightly humming to the song, and Steve moved with him, a little clumsy, but perfect all the same. If time stopped right at this moment, Bucky wouldn't complain. His happiness was a living thing inside him, pulsing under his skin in gentle waves.
"Knew you'd be like this," Steve mumbled, after another minute.
"Hmm?" He didn't move his head from where his cheek rested against Steve's, sandpaper-rough with stubble, but to Bucky, it may as well have been silk.
"When I first saw you this morning – after I got my glasses on, I mean – I thought you looked like you'd give the best hugs ever, and I was right."
Bing gave way to Etta James, and Bucky just held Steve that much tighter. He never wanted to let Steve go. "My hugs are yours whenever you want them."
His hugs, his hands, his heart, anything Steve wanted, it was his for the taking.
Steve's gaze softened, before flickering up above them. "Um, so..."
"Hmm? What is it?" Then Bucky looked up himself. They'd managed to stop in the archway separating the living room from the den, right below a sprig of mistletoe. "Huh, look at that," he marveled, and smiled.
"Yeah." Steve's eyes flicked down, seemed to lock on Bucky's mouth. "Look at that."
If this was the universe giving him a sign, Bucky wasn't about to argue with it.
"Just...please tell me if I'm reading this wrong," he said, and inched in, closer to those rosy lips and those fluttering eyelashes.
"You're totally not," Steve breathed, and then their mouths were touching, electric and sweet, and a universe of colors burst behind Bucky's eyelids.
The kiss lasted seconds, hours, an infinity – in it, Bucky could taste a hint of ginger from Steve's drink, and he pressed a little closer, his hands settling on Steve's hips. Steve's lips parted on a sigh, his arms still wrapped around Bucky's back, and this was it, this was the moment. Steve was the only person Bucky wanted to kiss from now on, Steve's lips were the only lips he wanted against his own, his sighs the only sighs Bucky wanted to breathe in.
It was crazy and way too fast, but Bucky's mother had always said that when a person met The One, they'd know it instantly. And Winifred Barnes was right in this, as she was in all things.
They pulled apart slowly, both of them smiling goofy and wide. "That was, um...nice," Steve said, then laughed, light and abashed. "Okay, that's a stupid thing to say, it was better than nice, it was amazing. Beyond amazing."
"Yeah," Bucky replied, "me too." He pressed another peck to those soft, inviting lips. "So much better than nice."
"Hey, you, um..." Steve glanced at the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. "Feel like getting some air?"
"Sure."
They stepped onto the deserted balcony, both of them shivering a little as the wind swept over them, but then Steve tugged him forward so they were cuddled together, and the cold ceased to be a concern.
Steve ducked his head, stopping just before their mouths met again. "This okay?" he asked, painting the question in tiny white puffs of air across Bucky's lips.
"It's all I ever wanted," Bucky murmured back, maybe too honest, but Steve just sucked in a small breath and smiled into the kiss.
Bucky lost track of time as they traded soft kisses and softer laughs, tasting and teasing, changing angles and varying the length, every brush of lips on lips candy-cane sweet and addictive.
"It's...this feels...I can't explain it," Steve said, splaying his fingers wide along Bucky's lower back. "Like fate or kismet or..."
"Like it's meant to be?" Bucky guessed.
"Yeah." Steve nodded, pleased. His glasses were slightly fogged from the heat of their shared breaths, and it was perfect. "Like...I feel like I've known you forever. Like I've been waiting for you – for this – forever."
It started snowing again, white flakes dusting Steve's eyelashes, putting bright pinpoints in his hair and across his shoulders. He looked ethereal. Magical. A creature of light and myth, Bucky's very own Christmas miracle.
"Yeah, I feel the same." Bucky pulled Steve in as close as he could, relief and euphoria and satisfaction mixing into the perfect cocktail. Luckily, Steve didn't seem to mind having Bucky as a coat. In fact, he held onto Bucky just as tightly, their hearts beating in time, their breaths syncing together.
This was all Bucky needed from life – Steve snuggled against him, happy and smiling and pleased with the world, and all because of Bucky. The words spilled out, diamond-bright and just as precious. "Next year, I'm going to ask you to marry me."
Steve's eyes opened fractionally. "Hmm?"
"Next year on this date, wherever we are in the world, I'm asking you to marry me," Bucky repeated, calm and sure. He couldn't remember ever being so sure about anything in his life.
He could hear his mother's voice in his head: When you meet the person who makes the world make sense, you'll know. Bucky made a mental note to call her to thank her for the advice.
"Did you just...?" Steve blinked, giving him a slightly puzzled look. "Are you messing with me?"
"You don't have to say yes or no right now," Bucky said, and pressed his lips against Steve's. "You don't have to say anything at all. Just know that I plan to be the best and last boyfriend you'll ever have. And that I'll wait as long as you want for your answer, whenever you're ready to give it."
"Holy Toledo, you're really serious – you really want to?" Steve asked, those blue eyes reflecting luminously large behind his glasses, those pink lips curving up in an incredulous smile. "You don't even know me."
Bucky nuzzled a kiss to Steve's cheek, then gave him his most serious look. "I know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you'll have me. I know I want to wake up with your hair tickling my face and ink-stains all over the furniture from where you forgot to wash your hands because you were too caught up in meeting a deadline and I want to argue over whose turn it is to take out the trash or walk the dog we're going to have and I want at least ten million more kisses just like the ones we've just shared, and I want to slow-dance with you when we're both 90 and arthritic as hell. I've got decades to get to know you, and I can't wait to get started."
"Wow." Steve exhaled in a stream of white air, then pressed a quick, but firm, kiss to Bucky's lips. "That might be the most romantic thing I've ever heard in my life. Certainly the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me." He looked sucker-punched in the best way; like someone had given him the best Christmas gift ever. Bucky knew just how he felt.
"Well, get used to it," he said, "because I plan on telling you how amazing you are all the time."
"Ditto. I mean, same here. Because you are. Super amazing, I mean." Steve's smile shone brighter than the city lights around them, brighter even than the stars in the heavens. They kissed again, magnetic poles coming together sweet and soft, and Steve's look was just as soft when they parted. "What are you doing tomorrow?"
This was it, Bucky thought. The start of his happy forever, with Steve by his side. "Got a few last minute gifts to buy, but I should be done early. Why?"
"Well, there's this great Thai place right by my apartment, and I was thinking maybe we could have lunch, then maybe go ice skating in Prospect Park, if you're up for it?"
Bucky grinned, his happiness reflected back at him, shining out of Steve's eyes. "Throw in a hot chocolate with whipped cream and you're on."
"Deal," Steve replied, and sealed it with another kiss.
***