Til the End of the Christmas Lights
ghostlywhitedirewolf
-.-.-.-.-.-
This is my post for the Sebastian Stan Secret Santa Fanwork Exchange for the lovely steverogersorbust (Rushi). I hope you like it and I hope that you and everyone else reading it have a very Merry Christmas. (And Happy Holidays for anyone who doesn't celebrate Christmas.) Make sure you all eat too much chocolate, laugh way too hard and most importantly of all, stay safe.
As always, my fics are unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own.
Come and say hello to me on my tumblr: ghostlywhitedirewolf
IMPORTANT: If you feel like transforming yourself into a giant sobbing mess, when you read #2, you should totally listen to the actual Jerusalem hymn whilst reading it. It can be found at - youtube: /watch?v=PaFXyKNXjlM"here
Translations:
dorogaya moya = my dear
-.-.-.-.-.-
[1]
1937.
Steve tried to stop his coughing as he heard Bucky's key in the lock of their front door. He didn't want Bucky to know that he was sick, didn't want to have to miss the midnight mass for fears of his cough developing into something worse.
Bucky would make them stay at home claiming that Steve's health was more important than a load of old people singing carols, but Steve loved the carol concert that their church held every year.
His Mom had loved it.
He wouldn't miss it because of a cold.
"Hey, Buck." Steve smiled, taking in Bucky's dirty, weary appearance as the other man managed to force the door of their front door open.
"Hey Stevie," he replied, shifting his body slightly in a strange position in a way that Steve knew meant that he was hiding something.
"James Buchanan Barnes. What do you have behind your back?" Steve raised an eyebrow, standing slowly in an attempt not to set off another coughing fit.
"Nuffin'," Bucky mumbled, looking down at the floor without moving his body, still hiding whatever was out in the corridor of their apartment block.
"Bucky." Steve smirked, walking forward and attempting to peer around Bucky, who sidestepped in an attempt to block his view again.
"C'mon Steve, go away! You weren't supposed to be home yet! I thought you'd still be at old lady Nancy's helping her with her shopping." Bucky almost whined, one hand covering Steve's eyes playfully as the other arm span Steve around before pushing him gently towards their bedroom.
Steve huffed but allowed Bucky to wrangle him into the other room and close the door, marring his view of whatever Bucky was hiding. He knew that every year Bucky would try to make Christmas special despite them not being able to afford to buy gifts or real decorations. He knew that Bucky hated the fact that Christmas was the hardest time of the year for them, with everyone scrambling for the extra shifts at the docks and Steve constantly getting sick, requiring money that they didn't have for medication. But Bucky always tried to make it more than a reminder of their situation, had always tried to make it better than the last one.
Steve had always loved Christmas, loved the unconditional, unfaltering hope that it brought to the usually sullen faces. Loved the way that Bucky laughed and joked without worry for a day. The way he got to actually sleep in past 5am for once because Steve was the one doing the work, as skilled as Bucky was with his hands, cooking was definitely not his forte.
Steve heard the cupboard door close before Bucky called out to him, telling him that he could come back out.
"What are you hiding?" Steve asked as he emerged from the bedroom.
Bucky paused to shoot Steve a smirk, winter coat still hanging off his right side, halfway revealing the filthy undershirt beneath it.
"Damn Bucky. You been crawling through mud?" Steve raked his eyes over the other man, noting the dirt all over him.
"Might as well've been. Guy came onto the yard and asked if we wanted to make a bit of extra money hauling some shipments. Figured it couldn't hurt." Bucky shrugged, tossing his coat over the back of one of their rickety dining room chairs.
Steve responded with a small smile, watching as Bucky started to pull off his shirt and pants, not wanting to walk through the entire apartment covered in mud.
"I'm going to take a quick shower and then we are going down to Arthur's. His old lady brought some extra food home from the café and said that we were welcome to some. The shop was closed before I got off work and I couldn't pick anything up so I agreed. Is that okay? I figured a hot meal was better than trying to make tomorrow's food stretch." Bucky told him grabbing a towel from the clothes horse and turning towards Steve, clad in only his underwear.
Steve nodded, Arthur's family were nice, overcrowded and as badly off as they were, but his mother was a loud, warm woman and Sarah Rogers had liked her. "Sure, works for me."
Bucky smiled and ruffled Steve's hair fondly before deliberately smudging dirt across his cheek in a playful manner.
"Hey!" Steve protested, batting Bucky's hands away, laughing nonetheless.
The brunet grinned crookedly at him, eyes dancing with mischief as he shot Steve the look that made all the girls swoon. "Fancy getting all dirty Stevie. Thought you wanted to look good for church later. Wouldn't want to mess up your perfect image would we?"
"You're such a jerk Bucky Barnes."
-.-.-.-.-.-
"Hey Stevie, wake up! It's Christmas!" Bucky shook his shoulder eagerly.
Steve tried not to groan as the movement made the pounding in his head worse, but he coughed anyway, great wracking coughs that shook his small frame to the core. His heart sank when he saw Bucky's excited face drop at the harsh sound.
"Ahh Steve. You're all flushed. Do you feel sick?" Bucky asked, sitting on the side of the bed and pressing a calloused hand to Steve's forehead. "You don't have a fever."
"Just a headache and a cough. Think I might be coming down with something." Steve mumbled, pushing himself upright, determined not to ruin Bucky's day.
"I think we might have some of those pills the doctor gave you last time. Wait here. Don't go into the other room." Bucky instructed as he headed towards the cabinet in the bathroom, pointing at Steve in an attempt to make him follow the order for once.
Steve sighed, but stayed put until the other man returned, a little plastic spoon, a bottle of medicine, a glass of water and a tablet in his hands.
"Here, I think you can take both of these together right?" Bucky screwed up his face, holding out the tablet and the glass of water first, waiting until Steve had swallowed the pill before pouring the recommended amount of medicine onto the spoon and feeding it to him as though he were a child.
Steve glared at him impertinently when Bucky grinned at him and asked, "I can make train noises if you'd prefer? Like your Ma used to do with the kids at the hospital."
"You're hilarious Buck. A real joker."
The brunet laughed, pulling the blankets around Steve's shoulders before tugging him up off the bed. "I got something for ya'."
"Bucky, I told you, you didn't have to do anything. You already do enough." Steve complained half-heartedly.
"This wasn't planned. You know how I said that that guy asked us to do an extra job last night, well–" Bucky paused, stepping around to stand behind Steve, hands covering the smaller man's eyes as he steered him into the living room. "–he wanted us to move some of these."
Bucky uncovered Steve's eyes and walked into the middle of the room grinning as the blond caught sight of the small tree in the corner. It was a little wonky, but otherwise perfect and Steve found himself grinning too, Bucky's enthusiasm catching despite how terrible he felt.
"Wow, Buck. This is amazing!" he told him, moving to examine the tree.
"These were the ones that the guy couldn't sell because they weren't right. He let me have one for cheap with some of the money that he paid me. I got this with the rest." Bucky held up a bag of popcorn. "Thought we could decorate it."
"This is great Bucky, seriously." Steve told him warmly, bumping his blanket covered shoulder against Bucky's.
"You sit down," Bucky said, placing his hands on Steve's shoulders and steering him toward their beat up old sofa, plunking him down into it when the smaller man's knees hit the edge.
He turned towards their stove and lit one of the rings, placing a pan on top of the light and emptying the popcorn shells into it before heading into their bedroom, returning with a small package.
"Here." Bucky said gently, pushing the present into Steve's hands and settling onto the couch next to him.
"Oh, Buck, you shouldn't have." Steve started, but Bucky shook his head.
"But I did. So stop yapping and open it."
Steve slid his fingers under the newspaper sheet that Bucky had haphazardly wrapped the present in, pulling it off to reveal a new set of drawing pencils that had probably cost more than a few days wages.
"Thank you." Steve smiled, voice warm as he looked at Bucky, at the man who gave him so much without ever asking for anything in return. "I got you something too."
"What?" Bucky asked, confused.
"Under the sink." Steve directed him, pointing at the cupboard as Bucky moved over to it, nodding when he pulled out his gift.
Bucky returned to the sofa and carefully undid the newspaper to reveal a set of tickets for 'The Hurricane', a film that they had both been dying to see. The brunet beamed at him, the expression on his face worth the meals that Steve had skipped in order to pay for the tickets. "Thank you Stevie."
"You're welcome, Bucky." He said, covering his mouth as he coughed, feeling a sheen of sweat start to break out along his skin that indicated the onset of a fever.
"Ahh hell, you don't look good. I told you standing outside in the cold wouldn't do you any good." Bucky scolded gently, pressing his hand once again to Steve's forehead, both of them jumping at the sound of machine gun popping emanating from the stove. "Hey Steve? Can you smell burning?"
Steve sniffed obediently and then frowned over at the pan of popcorn. "Bucky, you did put oil in before the popcorn right?"
"Oil?" Bucky narrowed his eyebrows. "Why would I put oil in popcorn?"
Steve jumped up, ignoring the sharp pain in his head as he snatched the popcorn off of the heat, gasping when he grabbed the metal handle with his bare hand and feeling his skin burn.
"Steve!" Bucky was by his side as the pan dropped onto the kitchen counter, the burnt popcorn stuck to the bottom of the stainless steel and forgotten as the brunet turned Steve's hand so that his palm was facing upwards. The skin was already red, the outline of the handle scorched into his skin.
"That's going to blister." Bucky sighed. "It need to be bandaged properly and we don't have any of the stuff here."
"I'm not going to the hospital on Christmas day, Bucky. No chance." Steve shook his head and turned to turn off the stove, refusing to meet Bucky's eyes.
"Steve, that's a bad burn. You can't afford to risk it turning bad just for the sake of clean bandages and some cream." Bucky argued, ducking his head and forcing Steve to look at him, showing the smaller man his burnt palm, the skin puckered and swelling already.
Steve's shoulders drooped and he nodded, knowing that the hospital was the last place Bucky wanted to go too, but also knowing that he was right. With his luck it would fester and turn septic.
"Go get dressed." Bucky ordered gently and Steve moved towards the bedroom, returning once he had donned clothes and a jacket.
As they headed down the stairs of their apartment block Steve sighed unhappily and touched Bucky's forearm. "I'm sorry I ruined Christmas."
Bucky shrugged. "It's not ruined. Just different. Not like we have a normal Christmas anyway."
He bumped Steve's shoulder and shot him a crooked smile. "Anyhow, burnt popcorn can still go on the tree right?"
Laughing slightly, Steve bumped him back, hand throbbing but once again glad that this man had chosen to be his best friend. He didn't know where he'd be without Bucky.
[2]
1944.
Steve looked around at the crowds of people that had gathered around the huge tree in front of the church, holding mugs of hot cocoa in their gloved hands. All smiling and chatting animatedly despite the freezing temperatures.
No one paid him any notice as they waited for the church candles to be lit, clutching their own candles, the vicar had been handing them out, a reminder of those who were still fighting in the war and a tribute to those who had fallen. Steve and the rest of the Howling Commandos had been given a few days off over Christmas to 'rest and recuperate', but Steve didn't relish the free time with nothing to do, despite some of the other men offering him a place for the holidays.
After all, Britain wasn't his home.
This church wasn't his church.
But as the clock chimed midnight and the choir began to light the candles, a chorus of 'Jerusalem' breaking out amongst the people gathered, Steve could almost imagine that he was back home.
Here, in front of the decorated evergreen, surrounded by strangers singing Christmas carols, he could almost imagine that he was back in Brooklyn before the war. That the old apartment with their Christmas tree decorated with the burnt popcorn strings was waiting for him once the carolling was over, Bucky laughing as they drank the beers and ate some of the turkey that they had been saving for the day after.
'And did those feet in ancient times, walk upon England's mountain green...'
Steve glanced around again, taking in the sights of the couples stood close together, some of the men, like himself, dressed in their military uniforms, eyes sombre as they clutched their girlfriends, wives, children to them, each knowing that this Christmas could be their last.
'Bring me my bow of burning gold, bring me my arrows of desire..'
He smiled as a small child grabbed at her parents' hands beaming up at them as her father leaned down to pick her up, placing her on his shoulders so that she could see the decorations on the tree and the church choir as the last candles were lit.
'I will not cease from mental fight, nor shall my sword sleep in my hand...'
The volume of the choir increased as the song neared to the end and all of a sudden, children from the crowd began to move forward, their small voices meeting the more mature voices of the older members and creating a harmony. Some of the children were as young as five or six, obviously members of a local primary school, all of them holding candles and dressed in miniature angel costumes with golden tinsel around their heads.
Smiling at the beauty of the scene, the contrasting darkness of the night mixed with the flickering lights of the candles and the innocence of the children singing, Steve angled his shoulder to bump that of the man's next to him, stopping midway through the movement.
Because Bucky wasn't there.
Wasn't there to share in moments like this anymore.
He wasn't able to see the beauty of the scene and would never see another Christmas. Not the lights, not the decorations, not the hope of the people amidst such terrible times.
And no matter how much Steve wanted to grin at him and gush about the exquisiteness of the night, he couldn't.
Because Bucky Barnes was gone and Steve Rogers was alone.
[3]
1991.
He knew that his insolence would be punished.
He had been supposed to report back to the HYDRA base four hours ago.
He knew that they would know that he had completed his mission.
The mechanic and his wife's death would already be all over the news. Howard and Maria Stark.
They were his mission.
He should have reported back by now, but something had captured his attention on the way back to his extraction point. A large gathering around a green tree decorated with brightly coloured lights and patterned balls.
He knew that he needed to be debriefed; yet he hovered a little longer.
The people were singing, the words and tune of the song stirring something deep within the murky waters of his mind.
The Winter Soldier frowned, eyes narrowing and one hand clutching the handgun at his belt as he crept closer, remaining in the shadows, confusion growing as the song continued.
He knew the words.
How do I know the words? The Soldier questioned himself disbelievingly before shaking his head.
It wasn't his place to ask questions.
He straightened, standing fully as the song changed, the music coming from a large band situated behind the tree. There was a momentary pause before the people began to sing again and the Soldier's eyebrows narrowed at the harrowing familiarity of the music, of the scene.
The darkness.
The candles.
A different time, but the same setting.
A small blond man stood beside him, trying to mask his coughing.
The Winter Soldier didn't know him, couldn't name him if asked, but yet the tiny man was so familiar that it made his chest ache. The pain a different kind of agony than he was used to. He didn't understand.
He didn't know this man, so why did he feel like his world was shattering around him?
What was it about this strange setting and this small, feeble man that felt like coming home?
As the song approached an end, the church bells chimed and there came a cheer of 'Merry Christmas', the sound so joyful that the Soldier felt his lips quirk of their own accord, unaccustomed to the surrounding happiness.
"Merry Christmas, Buck."
He heard the deep voice ring around the shadows of his mind so clearly that the Soldier looked about for anyone that could have crept up on him.
There was no one.
He was alone with his confusion and anguish.
[+1]
2014.
"Bucky! What on earth are you doing?" Steve laughed exasperatedly as he looked at the two brunets who were wrestling with the giant tree that had been delivered to Steve and Bucky's floor of Stark Tower that morning.
"It won't stay straight!" Bucky growled, using his metal arm to prop the tree into place whilst Clint manoeuvred it back into the pot that Natasha had stated was 'tacky and had to go'.
"Sounds like a lot of other things on this floor." Natasha quipped, narrowing her eyes playfully at the two super soldiers and smirking when Steve blushed.
"No, but seriously, who puts a Christmas tree in a pot with a red nosed reindeer on it. I know people like the song, but it's just another thing that convinces me that the whole world is on crack. Having a red nose would be useless in the dark unless it was a laser." Clint agreed, popping out from underneath the tree.
Steve rolled his eyes as he continued to unravel a set of multi-coloured Christmas tree lights that he could have sworn were a mile long. "Thank you for your incredibly helpful input there Natasha. Now, are you going to sit there and drink vodka, or are you actually going to help us decorate the tree?"
"Neither." She replied standing up. "Clint and I have lunch plans."
"So you just caused chaos and you're not even sticking around to help?" Bucky's mouth dropped and he glared at her.
"Sorry dorogaya moya." She told him, heading towards the elevator, Clint shrugging helplessly in a 'what can you do?' motion at Bucky before following.
"So, as this is my first coherent Christmas in seventy years. I'm going to need you to explain the concept of modern Christmas decorations. Tinsel I get, even baubles, but lights on a tree, why? And why the hell are there little plants hung everywhere?" Bucky questioned, gesturing to the boxes of decorations in front of them.
Steve laughed and moved over to him, gently pushing him backwards until they were both stood under the arch of the doorway into the kitchen. "The lights are for nothing other than making it look nice and trust me, it does. The plants are mistletoe. Can you remember what you're supposed to do with mistletoe?"
Bucky shook his head, too happy to be frustrated at his lack of memories of Christmas customs. Most of his memories had returned to him, some flashbacks still occurring sporadically, but Bucky could remember most things. It was little things that escaped him, like mistletoe, or knowing how to actually tie a bow tie as opposed to how to asphyxiate someone with it.
"I'll give you a clue." Steve muttered, mouth pressing gently against Bucky's for a moment before leaning back.
"Kissing?" Bucky clarified, mouth dropping when Steve nodded. "So that's why Darcy kept dragging me over to it and then giggling."
Steve smirked. "You know what Darcy's like. Take it as a compliment."
"So, do people still sing? I remember you used to always drag me to church on Christmas Eve." Bucky asked, walking back over to the tree and placing one of the baubles onto it, looking back at Steve for clarification that he was doing it right before picking up another one.
"Yeah, there's one tonight at St Bart's if you wanted to go. I promise it won't make me sick this time." Steve offered, sure to phrase it as a question to give Bucky the chance to back out. Even now, crowds weren't something that he was fond of and the carol concert was sure to attract a huge one.
"I think I'd like that. I remember that.. from before. Us going. And then, as the Winter Soldier. I came across one. Just after I'd killed Howar.. someone." Bucky stopped, not wanting to dredge up the memories of killing Tony's parents. "After completing a mission. And I remembered the hymns, I remembered you. I didn't know you, but I remembered you as you were before the serum. I remember being so confused. I'd like to go tonight. Make new memories that will make sense to me."
Steve paused, ensuring that Bucky was done before he pressed their foreheads together.
"Of course we can go." He told the brunet softly, placing a light kiss to the corner of Bucky's mouth, sighing contentedly when Bucky turned his head and deepened the kiss, pressing their bodies together. "I thought we were supposed to be decorating the tree."
"You keep distracting me." Bucky smirked, digging an elbow into Steve's side playfully and laughing when Steve looped the Christmas lights around his neck, dragging him back in for one more chaste kiss before releasing him.
-.-.-.-.-.-
"So," Bucky started, "what is eggnog? I'm pretty sure we never drank that before."
"No, we didn't. Eggnog is a drink. It usually has rum, brandy, or other alcohol mixed with egg, milk, and sugar. You are welcome to try some, but let me tell you, that stuff is nasty. Tony will have some later when we go up to their floor for dinner. Pepper and Natasha love it, but usually it's more alcohol than egg." Steve grimaced at the memory of trying the drink, stepping back to admire their finished tree.
Bucky nodded, looping his metal arm around Steve's side and leaning his head against Steve's shoulder. "I think we did good, Rogers. Better than burnt popcorn anyway."
The tree was at least nine feet tall, evidence yet again that Tony Stark did not do small anything, and was covered with red and gold baubles, silver tinsel and the multi-coloured lights. A star sat on the top in the design of Steve's shield, a joke present from Natasha that Bucky had taken a liking to, insisting that they used it instead of the angel that Steve had bought. The tree was technically an aesthetic disaster. Nothing matched, and there were sections of the tree that had too many decorations where Bucky had gotten carried away, but neither of them minded.
For the first time in seventy years, they weren't alone.
-.-.-.-.-.-
"I remember this song." Bucky mumbled under his breath, hands carefully tucked into his jacket pockets in an attempt to not draw attention to his metal arm.
Steve smiled. "This is Old Lang Syne. Not really a hymn, but still a good song."
"I heard this, when I was the Winter Soldier. This was one of the songs that they sang; I listened to them for a while before HYDRA found me." Bucky told him, leaning into the taller man's side as they watched the choir, joining in every now and again when they knew the words.
Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky's shoulders and offered him a sip of the Baileys hot chocolate that he had bought from the stall outside. Bucky had declined, conditioning still too fresh in his mind to risk being poisoned, but Steve had just laughed and straightened his bobble hat fondly.
Eventually midnight rolled around and the customary cheer of 'Merry Christmas' ricocheted from every beam of the church.
This time, when Bucky heard the same voice from so long ago whispering, "Merry Christmas, Buck," he turned to see the solid presence of Steve stood next to him.
"Merry Christmas, Stevie." Bucky replied softly, tucking his hands into Steve's own pockets as he leaned up to kiss him.
This time there was no confusion or pain.
This time, he wasn't alone.
-.-.-.-.-.-
"Bucky. Hey, Bucky. Wake up." Steve whispered, stroking the other man's back gently as he felt him start to wake, tensing for a moment until he realised where he was, before grey eyes peered up at him, a content smile appearing on his face.
Bucky groaned slightly and pressed his face into Steve's bare chest, flinching slightly when the door of their bedroom swung open to reveal a Christmas sweater clad Sam and Natasha.
"I do hope you're not doing anything inappropriate because as much as we would hate to blue ball anyone on Christmas morning, you both need to get your asses out of bed. Put on one of these obnoxious Christmas monstrosities that Tony has decided to inflict on us and get up to the main floor, because when I say that Santa has been, man has he been." Sam sang cheerily, grinning when Bucky covered his ears and tried to burrow himself more firmly against Steve.
"It is too early for this." Steve heard the brunet mumble.
"Nope, it's 9am. That is not too early. It's Christmas, stop being such a Russian humbug and get up." Sam told him whilst Natasha just smirked in the background.
"We'll be up in five." Steve reassured them, nudging Bucky but making no move to get up, knowing that they were both naked under the duvets.
"You'd better, next time, we'll send Darcy down. She already volunteered." Natasha winked at them, earning a blush from Bucky.
"The longer you're here, the longer we take. Give us a minute." Steve waved them both away, climbing out of bed as soon as they left. "C'mon Bucky, up and at 'em."
"Santa is the guy dressed in red with the big beard, right?" Bucky clarified, rolling out of the duvet and reaching for jeans and underwear, pulling them on before grimacing at the bright red sweater with a snowman pattern on the front. "The fuck is this?"
"To quote Sam, an obnoxious Christmas monstrosity." Steve replied, pulling his own on, his a replica of Bucky's, but in blue.
"This is fucking ridiculous. Let's go." Bucky grumbled, yanking it over his head and heading towards the elevator, bumping Steve's shoulder to show that he wasn't actually mad.
Steve had thought that Sam had been exaggerating the amount of gifts. Bucky had been quiet at first, seemingly overwhelmed by the occasion, but had relaxed once everyone's presents had been opened. Bucky now had more clothes and weaponry than he could manage to ever wear or carry and Steve had possibly every art supply ever created.
-.-.-.-.-.-
"I got you one last thing," Steve whispered into Bucky's ear later as they stood side by side in the elevator, heading back down to their own floor of the tower after dinner.
Dinner had been a raucous affair, with everybody laughing and joking. Steve had been worried at first that it would be too much for Bucky, but the other man had seemed to soak it all in, joining in with Tony and Clint's playful banter and poking fun at Steve good naturedly. It had made Steve's heart swell to see Bucky so happy. Back when they were young, they had never really had a family, only each other. It was good to still have each other, in different ways than he had ever thought possible, but he was glad that they also had the other Avengers as a form of dysfunctional extended family.
Bucky turned to him and raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently as they walked over to their own Christmas tree, Steve reaching under it before handing him a small square box.
Bucky narrowed his eyebrows in confusion, staring down at the box in his hands.
"Open it." Steve encouraged, watching as Bucky gently pulled at the red bow, freeing it from around the small package before lifting the top off, eyebrows narrowing further as he tipped the contents out into the palm of his hand.
"It's a stock key?" Bucky looked up at him in bewilderment. "I don't understand. This doesn't open anything."
Smiling, Steve handed Bucky a set of papers. "I bought us a house. Well, a plot of land. It's still in New York, just around the corner actually. Pepper helped me to find it. The building was condemned, so we'd have to rebuild it ourselves, but I thought that that would be perfect. We could have our own space and create it just the way we wanted to. That is, if you'd like that? We can stay here if you'd rather?"
Bucky examined the papers quickly, eyes flicking back and forth as he read the words and Steve held his breath, waiting for the other man's reaction.
Eventually Bucky looked up, tears brimming and a large smile forming. "I would love that. God, Stevie that would be perfect. Thank you so much."
Bucky stepped forward to wrap his arms around Steve's neck, hugging him close and repeating his thanks.
"I'm glad you like it." Steve hugged him back before reaching up to cup Bucky's cheeks between his hands and kissing him.
"I do. I really do. I love it. Thank you." Bucky murmured into Steve's mouth, tangling their tongues together and sliding one hand up Steve's sweater. "Thank you for an amazing Christmas."
Steve smiled, pressing their foreheads together. "Merry Christmas Bucky."
"Merry Christmas Steve. Here's to many more of the same."
"Til' the end of the line."
"Til' the end of the line, punk. Now get over here and kiss me."
-.-.-.-.-.-
El fin.
-.-.-.-.-.-
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
Come and say hello to me on my tumblr: ghostlywhitedirewolf
Leave me a review and make my Christmas!