They had been living together for a few weeks when it suddenly dawned on them that it would soon be Christmas.


For Bucky, it was the moment he opened his mail. Despite being on medical leave, his mail still arrived at the barracks. It had become part of his daily routine to go there once a day. The people in charge of the mail room had been begging him to take home a bag or two of letters sent to Steve by his many admirers, but Bucky had had a word about it with Peggy and a few days later, the United States army had thought it wise to let someone from the public relations office take care of it. So when the man behind the counter pushed a heavy cardboard box into his hands, Bucky assumed it were more letters for Captain America and he had already put it back down on the counter before he noticed the familiar handwriting that was spelling out his details.

Thanking the clerk behind the counter, Bucky picked up the box again and, feeling its weight, told himself to thank Peggy the next time he saw her for finding him a bicycle with a rack he could use on his travels through London. Making sure the box wouldn't fall off when he started cycling, Bucky decided to change up his routine. Every other day, he had gone from the barracks to one of the many pubs where drinks were cheaper for soldiers and the women eager to please. He would usually stay there until it was time to go back home, preferably before Steve or Peggy returned, or until the landlord grew tired of Bucky nursing the same drink for hours. It had become somewhat of a game for Bucky. Every day he tried to make the drink last longer and longer. He felt bad about breaking his promise to Steve that he wouldn't drink anymore, but Bucky figured that one drink a day wouldn't hurt him. So he spent his days staring at a glass and charming the women of London.

But not today. He made his way back home, the trip taking a little longer with the added weight of the package. He checked the tires for dirt, unloaded the box when he made it inside, and then stored the bike on the little stroke of paving stones that separated the house from the small backyard. Bucky picked up the box in the hallway and carried it inside the flat, putting it down on the kitchen table. The box was wrapped with a liberal amount of twine, so Bucky took out a knife to cut it open. Inside he found a note and several items protected by crumpled-up newspaper. He read the note, which confirmed what he already knew: his parents had sent him a care package.

Bucky put down the note on the kitchen table and focused on the contents of the box. There were a few bars of chocolate, an envelope with some photos, a few pairs of socks. Bucky pulled out three smaller boxes that rattled when he shook them. He lifted the lid off of the one that had his name on it and found a necklace with a medal attached to it. There was a little piece of paper on the inside of the lid. Bucky once again recognized his mother's handwriting.

"This is a medal of Saint Jude, the patron saint of desperate situations and lost causes. It seemed fitting. Stay safe, my sweet boy."

Bucky closed the little box and carried it with him to his bedroom, putting it on his nightstand. He sat down on his bed and thought about home. He wondered if the bullies of Brooklyn had noticed Steve's absence, and if Bonnie and Connie had found other men to take them dancing. He was overcome by a sudden flood of longing, a desperate yearning for home. Bucky shook his head, as if to rid himself of the ache he felt in his heart. He knew he was exactly where he was supposed to be, because Steve was here too.

He walked back to the kitchen. He set aside the two boxes that bore Steve and Peggy's names, resisting the temptation to open them. He couldn't wait to find out what his mother had gotten for them, and why. After digging out more chocolate bars and socks, Bucky found another letter, this time in his father's handwriting.

"Son,

Your mother and I hope this package will reach you before Christmas. We may not be able to spend it together this year, but we have arranged a gift for you. When we heard that your unit had been liberated and you would be staying in London for a while – do thank that lovely woman who called to tell us you and Steve were okay – we had a friend order it for you. You can just pick it up at the address below.

You show those Heinies what's what and come back home soon. We miss you.

Dad."

Bucky read the address and made a mental note to ask Peggy if she knew how to get there. He put the letter down and started putting everything back into the box. Tossing in the final pair of socks, Bucky put the two small boxes on top and carried the box into his room. He stored it inside his closet, making sure to hide the boxes meant for Peggy and Steve underneath one of his shirts. His parents' letter had reminded him that it would soon be Christmas. If he didn't find an appropriate gift for either of them in time for the holiday, he would still be able to give them something.


Steve realised it was nearly Christmas when he was pulled into a meeting with some colonel from the army's public affairs office. He was led to a chair, a firm hand on his shoulder indicating he should sit down. Looking around the room, he saw a few faces he recognized from seeing them around headquarters, but he didn't know any of the people at the table. They pushed a piece of paper his way. Steve picked it up.

"What's this?" he asked.

"That's a list of families we've picked out for you to spend Christmas with. You had a lot of requests, of course, but those are the ones we deemed most appropriate," the colonel said.

"Requests?"

"Surely you've seen the posters around? 'Spend your Christmas at home with a British family'? It has been a really successful campaign so far," another officer replied. "Most soldiers have about 50 invitations each. You had a lot more obviously, captain."

Steve read through the list, quickly losing count of the many titles and public offices that were mentioned.

"We need you to pick out a family so we can make the necessary arrangements. The press will want a few photos, you see."

Steve bit the inside of his cheek. "When do you need my answer, colonel?"

"As soon as possible."

Steve nodded. "I will get back to you, sir." He put the list in his jacket pocket and made to get up, but was stopped when the colonel spoke again.

"There is also the matter of your fans, captain. We have hired people to write replies to all the men and women who write to you, but we feel the people back home might be more willing to financially support the war if those replies had a more personal touch."

Another officer went on. "Do not worry, we don't expect you to start writing all those replies yourself. We were thinking more along the lines of maybe including a nice photograph of you, in your dress uniform or perhaps even in your costume."

The colonel took over again. "We have arranged for your costume to be sent over. One of the ladies from the typing pool will accompany you down to the room we've set aside for this photoshoot. And I'm sure there will be someone around who can do something to make you look a bit more presentable for these photos."

Steve had been shocked into silence. He remained in his seat, unmoving.

"Captain? You can go now," the colonel dismissed him.

Steve got up and walked out of the room. He was greeted in the hallway by a young woman who introduced herself as Dorothy. As she led him down the stairs and through a corridor, she told him how honoured she was to finally meet him. Or so Steve assumed, he wasn't really listening, his head still preoccupied with what had happened in the room he had just left.

Dorothy suddenly stopped near the end of a side corridor Steve hadn't even noticed walking through. She pointed to a door. "Here you are, Captain Rogers," she said before knocking on the door. As soon as the door opened, she ushered him in and closed it behind him, leaving him alone with people who seemed extraordinarily concerned about his hair and face.

Nearly two hours later, tired of being prodded and treated like a puppet, Steve was released back into the hallway with only a perfunctory thank-you thrown his way before the door closed again. He realised he had no idea what floor he was on, or what he was supposed to do now. He started walking, figuring he would find a clue soon. Sure enough, he found himself standing in the main hallway a few minutes later. Taking note of the floor number, he discovered he was only one floor up from Peggy's office.

He found her sitting at her desk, the expression on her face telling him that whoever was on the other side of that phone call must have committed an almost unforgivable offence. Steve sat down in the chair next to Peggy's desk, waiting patiently for her call to end. He tried to look as if he wasn't listening to her side of the conversation, but given the volume at which it was being conducted, that was hard to do.

"I do not care about your plans with Miss Oklahoma, Howard. Be here by next week or I'll come find you myself!"

Peggy slammed the phone down and turned to Steve. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry," Steve said. "I can go if this is a bad time…"

Peggy exhaled loudly. "No, I'm sorry, Steve. It's not your fault Stark's being difficult. Did you need anything?"

"A place to hide for a few minutes? I don't want the people from public affairs to find me. I really thought my days as a performing monkey were over."

"They made you go through with the photoshoot?"

Steve was shocked. "You knew about that?"

"Of course I did." Peggy shrugged. "I tried to stop them, but the higher-ups decided it was a good idea to rally more support and money. And I'm sure your fellow soldiers will be grateful for the extra homemade treats that will be coming in after those pictures are sent off."

"Homemade treats? People send me food?"

Peggy smiled. "Women, yes. But it was deemed more appropriate to let the others share in your good fortunes. The food gets tested for poisons and then distributed. Either way, the US army decided it was too much of a risk to let you near 'potentially dangerous food'."

"They do know you sometimes cook dinner for me, right?" Steve teased.

"I mostly cook for Bucky. You're just always around so you get to enjoy it too."

Steve's smile disappeared. "If you want to spend some time alone with Bucky, I could give you two some space, just say the word."

Peggy reached out, putting a hand over his. "I was joking, Steve. I like spending time with both of you," she said, squeezing his hand.

"You do?"

"I do."

They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the other's company. Peggy remembered where they were and reluctantly removed her hand from his, resting it in her lap. She was lost in thought, so much so that she was startled when Steve spoke.

"Speaking of dinner, will you be home in time for it tonight?"

"I doubt it. By the time I'll be finished ensuring Howard Stark doesn't disappear with some beauty queen in tow again, it will be quite late. I'll just go down to the mess and have dinner there. Why?"

"I need to talk to you and Bucky about something. It has to do with that meeting at public affairs."

"I'll drop by when I get home, if it's not too late of course," Peggy said. "There might be something I need to talk to you two about as well."

"You should, even if it's late. Bucky and I like knowing you've made it home safe. We know you can take care of yourself," he rushed to add, "and we usually hear you come in anyway, but we like to know for sure."

Peggy smiled. "I'll drop by."

Steve nodded once and then got up from his chair. He let his hands rest on the back of the chair.

"So where are you off to now?" Peggy asked.

"I'm going upstairs to see Colonel Philips, ask him if they need me for anything else today or if I can leave early," Steve said. "I'll see you at home?"

"See you at home."

Steve tapped the back of the chair twice with his left hand and then turned towards the hallway. When he was almost at the door, he looked over his shoulder and saw Peggy's eyes following him. He smiled and waved goodbye.


Peggy was working at headquarters when Christmas practically fell into her lap. An envelope had been hand-delivered for her that morning, but it had taken a while before she had found the time to open it. She had spent most her day tracking down Howard Stark, trying to convince him to come back to London and continue working on special weaponry for the S.S.R., but it took Peggy threatening him with bodily harm before he agreed to leave behind his latest beauty pageant winner and get on a plane to England.

She had finally finished her last report for the day when her eyes fell to the envelope that was still standing upright against the desk lamp. Peggy didn't need to open it to know who had sent it. There was only one person she knew who would employ someone to hand-deliver a letter, even though the delivery man wasn't allowed to go further than the mail room downstairs.

Peggy checked her watch. She had promised Steve to stop by after work, and if her suspicions about this letter were proven to be correct, she would definitely need to talk to Bucky and him as soon as possible. Deciding to just get it over and done with, Peggy grabbed a letter opener and sliced open the envelope. She pulled out a card.

"You are hereby cordially invited…"

She shoved the card back into the envelope. She was half-tempted to just leave the envelope on her desk, buried underneath a pile of requisition forms, but at the last second Peggy put it inside her purse before making her way to the motor pool in search of a driver who could take her home tonight. She didn't indulge often, preferring to walk or use public transport, but she was suddenly overcome by exhaustion.

Peggy barely noticed the city on her way home, her mind focused on the invite inside her purse. She only realised the jeep was no longer moving when the driver cleared his throat. Peggy thanked him for driving her home. She waited until he had driven off before she went inside. She closed the front door and leaned against it for a moment or two, trying to decide whether to go upstairs and change first or go straight to Bucky and Steve's flat. She knew that if she went upstairs first, she was likely to just fall into bed and sleep until tomorrow.

She had just finished knocking when Bucky opened the door. He moved aside to let her in, closed the door and made his way to the kitchen to make Peggy a cup of tea. As he waited for the water to boil, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Peggy kick off her shoes before curling up on the couch, her coat thrown over the back of the other couch. On a whim, Bucky decided to part with one of the chocolate bars his parents had sent him. He set Peggy's cup down on the coffee table and handed her the chocolate.

"Here, you look like you could use it."

Peggy thanked him with a tired smile. "Where's Steve?" she asked after her first bite.

"Some corporal dropped off our rations for this week and Steve took a few things to that house across the street, the one with all the children. He figured they could do with a treat, what with Christmas coming up and everything."

"Good to know some people remembered about Christmas," Peggy said. She sipped her tea and had another bite of chocolate.

Bucky laughed. "I only remembered because my parents sent me a care package. It arrived today actually. That's where the chocolate you're devouring came from."

"Thank your parents from me. Chocolate was just what I needed tonight."

"They told me to thank you actually," Bucky said. "You called them to tell them I was okay. I didn't even think of doing that. Thank you, Peggy."

"I assumed they knew what regiment you were in, and when I noticed some newspapers were reporting the news as Captain America rescuing the survivors, I thought it best to let them know as soon as possible that you were, in fact, still alive."

"Well, they're grateful. In fact… I'll be right back."

Bucky walked into his room and came back less than a minute later with something red in his hands. He sat down next to Peggy again, allowing her to see that he was carrying three oversized red-and-white socks.

"Christmas stockings! My mother knitted them herself. These two are a bit older," he said, showing Peggy two stockings that had his and Steve's name on them. "But this one is brand new." He passed the third stocking over to Peggy.

Peggy traced her name with her fingertips. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

"Hey, I didn't knit it. But I'll mention it in my letter home." Bucky folded the three stockings and piled them on top of each other. "We should find a place to hang these."

Steve chose that moment to walk back in. "Hang what? Oh, did you already show Peggy her Christmas stocking? Pretty neat, isn't it?"

He stood at the door to his bedroom, tossed his jacket onto his bed and then sat down in the chair on the other side of the coffee table. The sight of Peggy and Bucky sitting cosily next to each other on the couch brought a smile to his face. He was glad he got to spend time with both of them.

"So," Peggy said after finishing off her cup of tea and the last bite of chocolate, "what did you need to talk to us about, Steve?"

The smile disappeared. "I had a meeting at public affairs. They handed me a list of families they decided were appropriate enough for me to spend Christmas with, and they need me to pick one." He sighed. "I had seen the posters around, but I just thought I'd be spending Christmas with you two."

"You can't get out of it?" Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head. "I'm sorry, Buck. They made it pretty clear that this is something I need to do. I don't know, maybe they think it will convince people to support the war even more."

"Of course they do," Peggy interrupted. "They'll probably send along a photographer and get someone to write a piece for every major newspaper here and in the States."

"I thought we were going to spend Christmas together," Bucky sighed. "When do you need to decide?"

"They would probably like to have my answer tomorrow. I don't know how to choose, I don't know any of those people!"

"Where's the list?" Peggy asked.

Steve pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to Peggy, who immediately started reading it.

"Do you know any of them?"

Peggy briefly looked at Steve and nodded. She went back to reading. "I know all of them by reputation at least. Unfortunately, I know some of them personally too… I can't believe this!"

"What is it?" Bucky leaned over to look at the list.

Peggy started muttering to herself. "I doubt those blowbags in public affairs connected the dots. Oh, the nerve…" She skimmed the rest of the list before throwing the paper onto the coffee table.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked. He picked up the list.

Peggy closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Bucky's hand came to rest on top of her knees, offering a little comfort. She laid her hand on top of his and looked at Steve. "Halfway down the list. Notice any familiar names?"

Steve looked over the names, waiting for one to pop out at him. "Oh."

Bucky's eyes moved from Peggy to Steve. "Can someone please tell me what's going on?"

"My parents are one of the people the army has deemed appropriate to host Captain America for Christmas dinner."

"Because of your connection to Steve?"

Peggy snorted. "I highly doubt that." She leaned over the side of the couch to grab her purse. She took out the envelope that had been delivered that afternoon. "My parents invited me to Christmas dinner too. And my mother made sure to include a little note on the back: 'dress properly, certainly no uniform, we may have a special guest join us'. If they knew who I was working with, she wouldn't have included that sort of message. It would've been about me having to convince you to accept their invitation."

"No offence, Peggy, but why would the army include your parents on the list if not for you?" Bucky asked.

"Because they live on Eaton Square." When she saw the confused looks on their faces, she clarified. "They have money and friends in high places. My father is only a minor government official, but I have no doubt he used some of his influence to get on that list."

"Wait, wait, wait," Bucky interrupted. "You're rich? And you still choose to live here and be in the army?"

"My parents are rich. Daughters who go against their family's wishes aren't. They are also usually not put on the guest list for special occasions. Maybe they think I'll take one look at Steve, decide I'm not needed in the army anymore and come back home." She looked at Steve. "You're been awfully quiet."

"Sorry, I was just thinking. It would be a decent solution to our problem, wouldn't it?"

"No," Peggy said.

"What?" Bucky asked.

Steve started smiling. "No, no. It's perfect. I accept their invitation, she takes you as a guest, and we'll get to spend Christmas together!"

Bucky's smile mirrored the one on Steve's face. Peggy, however, was still annoyed. "I can't just show up with a strange man! Besides, they didn't say I could bring someone."

Steve's smile turned positively devilish. "They didn't say you couldn't bring someone, did they? And if you're right and the army sends along a photographer and a journalist… Well, they couldn't risk turning away another American soldier who misses his home and family so very much this Christmas, now could they?"

Bucky was nodding fiercely next to her. They were silent while Peggy thought about Steve's plan. She read her invitation again. Her mother's note was the final push she needed. She threw the invitation on the coffee table, on top of the army's list of appropriate families.

"You, Steve Rogers, are a wicked man. We're lucky to have you on our side."