"The Atmosphere for Miracles"

On his (they called it rehab) hospital bed, Bucky stared down at his empty hands. One was real, flesh and blood. The other was prosthetic. Half real. Half phantom.

Kind of like him.

When asked what he wanted, he'd said 'I want my arm back'. Each time, Nurse Rogers seemed closer to tears. He hated disappointing her, when he'd been friends with her son since they were kids. But then Bucky's parents had moved away, and he had to go with them. It wasn't until after the accident that he'd seen Steve again, when Mrs. Rogers joined the staff of the rehab clinic to be there for Bucky.

It was a huge thing for her to be away from Steve for all that time, while Steve stayed with one of his friends. So the next time someone asked what he wanted, Bucky asked for a prosthetic.

"I don't care `bout whether it looks real or not," he said. "It's not like I'm gonna fit in anyway."

"Well, it won't look like a robot's arm," the psychiatrist assured him. Bucky smiled bitterly at that. Maybe it would've been better if it had. If it's not gonna look real, why not go all the way? Steve could've painted it for him.

But it looked kind of real, the end product. He'd needed time to learn how to operate the impostor attached to his body. Which is why, nearly half a year after his parents were killed in the car crash that took Bucky's arm, he was waiting for the Rogers family to pick him up. He was moving in with them before Christmas. It meant moving schools, too, but he just… didn't want to go back to his old school, or to his old house. Not without his parents. So he was going to finish his last year of schooling in another state.

"Hey, you."

There he was. His childhood best friend.

"Hey, punk," Bucky said.

The tension melted from Steve's shoulders. He glanced at the mostly-covered prosthetic, but didn't say anything. Instead, he walked over to Bucky, hauled him (gently) to his feet, and pulled him into a hug. Sometimes it was hard to believe that the lanky kid had actually gained muscles.

"When Mom told me about the crash, I was so scared that you could be dead," Steve whispered. "`M glad you're not. I just… wanted to say it one last time, before we get out of here and leave all this behind us. Okay?"

Bucky nodded into his neck, returning the hug with his real arm. The accident would never be behind him. "Yeah, Steve. Okay."

"Anyone know when Rogers is coming over?" Tony called. He barely dodged a snowball lobbed at him from Natasha's side.

"Said he'd be coming today," Clint replied. He popped his head over the barrier, and threw a curve ball that hit Thor just as he was looking over the edge. The foreigner swore creatively, and ducked behind the snow wall again. "Bringing his friend, too."

"About time," Phil said. He'd built up a reserve of half a dozen snowballs, and loaded one in each hand, before sticking his head around the side of their wall. He pulled back before Clint's snowball could hit him, then threw blindly as a cover, before aiming while one of the others – Bruce, judging by the green hat – was dodging the first. Phil grinned at the boy's muffled squawk of indignation, and retreated again. Yeah, he hated it when he wasn't on a team with Clint, who had the best aim out of all of them, or Natasha, who could move like an acrobat. But Phil was no slouch. And he was lucky enough to have Thor today, as well as Loki. Adopted brothers who grew up in a snowy region, both strong and prone to mischief, and the most experienced snowball fighters. All in all, a good day so far.

"Break time!" Darcy announced from her perch in Tony's tree-house. She was watching something through her binoculars – not refereeing the battle, like she was supposed to be doing – and then waved. "Clint, it's your boyfriend."

Clint grinned, and leapt over the opposite snow wall. Now they could all see the two darkly-clad figures making their way across the Stark grounds. Brushing the snow off his gloved hands, Phil went to wait at the bottom of the tree, in case the treetop dwellers needed help. After Rhodey nearly broke his leg climbing down once, Tony's mom insisted on installing a ladder, and having someone on guard when it was being used.

"Thanks, Phil," Darcy said, and she kissed Phil on the cheek. Then she skipped over to the growing group. Phil saw that Clint was already attached to his boyfriend like a barnacle. It was way past the point where their bond needed to be reaffirmed every day, but considering Clint's background before the Starks adopted him, no one could blame him for clinging to any happiness.

"Thank you for waiting," Jane said, joining Phil on ground level.

"Thanks for asking Thor to join my team," Phil said, walking beside her as they approached Steve and his friend. James Barnes, if Phil remembered correctly.

"No problem," she said, patting him on the arm. Then she walked over to her boyfriend, and Phil moved to Natasha's elbow. He was the last one introduced to Barnes.

"This is Phil Coulson," Steve said. "Phil, this is Bucky."

Phil extended his hand. "Nice to finally meet you."

Bucky stared at him for a second, and then shook his hand, which was covered by a mitten. That's right; it was the left arm which had to be amputated at the shoulder. Phil squeezed gently, before managing to let go. He took a step back, vaguely aware that he couldn't look away from Bucky's eyes. It took someone clearing their throat to snap Phil out of it. That's when they heard Tony's phone ringing.

"You brought it with you?" Pepper said, eyes widening. "To a snowball fight? Really?"

"Just in case," Tony said. "Besides, Darcy had it." He fist-bumped Darcy. "She gave it back to me when we got here. Gimme a sec." He held up a finger while he hit the answer button. "Yeah, Jarvis? Uh-huh? Sounds great. We'll be there soon." He hung up, then grinned at the group. "Hot chocolate?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Steve said, rubbing his hands.

"Hey, we've been out here for hours!" Clint said, frowning at his boyfriend. "What's your excuse?"

"I showed Bucky a few of the familiar places," Steve said, and he kissed Clint on the nose. "You're freezing. Let's get inside."

Phil realised that Bucky was staring at him. He hoped he was the only one who noticed.

"How long've you known… what's his name, Phil?" Bucky asked Steve, while it was just the two of them in the corner. Jarvis, the Stark's butler, was pouring out mugs of cocoa for everyone, plucking extras from God-knows-where, and dropping just the right amount of marshmallows in at the right times. Like the Starks' own personal Jeeves, he guessed.

"Since the start of junior, I think," Steve said. "Why? Is there something wrong? He's a nice guy. I thought you two would get along."

"No, it's not that. He just seems… familiar."

"Oh." Steve eyed him, and Bucky could tell that the gears were grinding.

"It's stupid," he said, not wanting Steve to worry. "Forget it."

"…If you're sure—"

"I am. It's nothing, Stevie."

"Okay," Steve said, but he still sounded uncertain.

"Hang on," Clint said, returning to them. He handed a mug to Steve, and then held one out to Bucky. "I'll go get another."

"No," Bucky said. He'd grown sick of being waited on. "I can get my own. I'm not totally helpless."

"I wasn't suggesting—"

"He knows that," Steve said, shooting Bucky a stern look. "Right, Bucky?"

Bucky nodded jerkily, and scooted around the others on his way to the counter. He saw Phil out of the corner of his eye, and hurried his steps, knowing he'd probably made the boy uncomfortable with his staring. He got there first, and asked for two. Jarvis looked at him with a knowing smile, and handed two mugs to Bucky. He turned, and stepped in Phil's way.

"Here," he said, holding out one of the drinks. Phil raised an eyebrow, but smiled.

"Thank you," he said, and he reached for the mug.

If Bucky had given him the mug from his left hand, they wouldn't have known right then. As it was, he offered the cocoa in his right hand, no longer encased in wool, and Phil took it with an equally bare hand. Consequently, their fingers brushed, skin meeting skin, and there was a spark.

The sound of shattering porcelain was an annoying buzz in the background. Hands now empty, Bucky grabbed Phil's left hand with both of his, a dizzying power surging through the connection he could only half-feel. Damn it, he'd always thought he'd be able to touch his soulmate with both hands! He wasn't whole; he could only feel that heady rush through one arm.

He must've verbalised some of this, because Phil cradled his face, murmuring reassurances. That was nice. He cupped Phil's cheek with his flesh-and-blood palm, fingering the line of his ear. Phil leaned into the touch, humming and smiling. Bucky's heart fluttered – actually fluttered – at the revelation that he was making this boy look like that. Broken and scarred, he could still make someone look like that.

"Wow," he breathed.

"…no problem, Master Stark. Your parents already anticipated accidents. I have been using the mugs they bought in bulk, and this is a tiled floor."

"Great. Listen, we'll cle—"

"It is a privilege to witness soulmates finding each other, especially when they are this young. I will clean up. You should get them to privacy."

"Oh, yeah. That's… yeah. We'll do that."

Bucky barely noticed being jostled into another room. He couldn't stop touching Phil, hardly able to believe that he'd met his soulmate when he wasn't even out of school yet, and wondering whether this was Fate's way of compensating for taking his parents.

"We'll call your folks, Phil," Steve said, hovering on his peripheral. "I'll call Mom, Bucky."

He nodded, and continued to explore what he could of Phil.

"Your last name's Coulson, right?" he said. Phil nodded. "Just checking."

"Yeah." Phil stroked the back of Bucky's neck and around his collar. There was the click of a door closing quietly, and then they were alone. "I want to kiss you—"

"As much as you want," Bucky said, leaning in.

"But we… we should get to know each other first."

"Life's too short. If the last six months haven't shown me that, I don't know what will."

Phil's smile dissolved. "Steve told us. I'm… I'm sorry about your parents. We all chipped in to send flowers—"

"I know, and it's okay," Bucky said, as he tugged Phil onto the sofa, and curled around him. "Well, it's not okay. It was hard at first; God, it's still hard, and always will be. But now I've got you."

"I didn't think I'd meet my soulmate until I was in my twenties, maybe even older. Sure didn't think it'd happen when I was only seventeen."

"I think my luck's finally turned."

Phil let himself be cuddled. "And my good day's just gotten better."

Bucky smiled his first true smile since the accident, and channelled his inner octopus a little bit more by wrapping himself around his soulmate. Phil wasn't complaining.

THE END

This story was written for the Lump of Coul Exchange 2014, and is dedicated to Sealcat. I did my best to incorporate all the suggested plot bunnies.

Title comes from the quote 'Expectancy is the atmosphere for miracles', by Edwin Louis Cole. I was looking for quotes to do with Christmas and came across this one, and decided that it would be appropriate in this context. And because I used to be better at coming up with titles, and now I suck at it. Humph.

Hope Sealcat likes this. And please review, everyone!