The days that followed were relatively happy ones, with only a few nightmares and no appearances from the Winter Soldier.

Everyone tried their best to set aside the shadows and let in the light of the Christmas season. Although Christmas was not observed in Wakanda, Princess Shuri said they would wait until after to begin Buck's treatment, something he agreed to with minor reluctance.

"I might not remember my middle name some days," he told Steve, as they sprawled on Steve's bed, late Christmas Eve. "But I remember Christmas."

"Not something that's easy to forget," Steve answered.

There came a tap at the door and Sam poked his head in. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

Bucky grinned at him. He really liked Sam, but most of all he appreciated his loyalty and care for Steve. When the three of them were together, it was like a little bit of the Howlies back again. "Take a seat," he said, sweeping his hand to take in the big bed.

"Don't mind if I do," Sam said, mildly, then took a run and jumped for a crash-landing. There was plenty of yelling and curses and laughter, turning into a wrestling match, which ended with Sam pinned by the super soldiers, until he cried 'Uncle'.

"Taken down by a couple of old geezers," Sam groaned, finally sitting up.

"You oughtta be ashamed of yourself," Steve teased.

More laughter.

"Hey, fellas. You're awfully loud for elves."

They glanced up at Natasha leaning against the doorframe. Steve had only sort of gotten used to the blonde. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and Steve noticed her pajama pants: blue, yellow, brown, and black zig-zags. She must have picked them up at the market the other day.

"Don't you know the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner Santa will get here?"

Steve gestured toward the armchair. "Have a seat. Join the party."

She did so, pulling her feet up to tuck them under the edge of the blanket. There was an easy silence.

Bucky, though, shifted his position so that Steve was between him and Natasha. She made him nervous on a number of counts. He'd shot her and fought her, twice each, and never yet said he was sorry. Then she had a way of looking right through him, the look of one who'd been there, done that. But also, she knew Russian.

Funny, since he would trust her with his life. But that was mostly because Steve did.

Sam leaned back against the footboard, stretched his legs out. "What's your favorite Christmas memory?" he asked, glancing around enquiringly.

Steve took a deep breath, watching his friends' faces. Natasha, stared down at her hands in her lap. Bucky's expression clouded over, brow furrowing.

"I can sure tell you mine," Sam said, filling the silence. "I don't remember just how old I was. Probably ten, since that would have been one of the last times we were all together." Sam's voice did not falter, but Steve could see in his eyes the bittersweet-ness of the memories.

"There was this massive snowfall, on the– What would have been the twenty-third. Day before the day before Christmas. Probably two feet. Then Christmas Eve, the temp goes waay up, like into the 40s and it rained most of the afternoon. Simon, my big brother, was predicting a flood, saying we would have to take the Christmas tree down and build an ark."

Steve and Bucky laughed at the same moment.

"But nope, we wake up the next day to the town of Ames frozen like a Popsicle." He smirked at Steve. "No offence. Anyway, the power was all out, thank God our house had fireplaces. That farmhouse was as old as the hills it was built on. Daddy was the preacher at the Methodist Church, but he was also the volunteer fire chief, so he had to get some men together and go around. Make sure everybody was okay. Simon went with him, of course, and I was jealous, mad jealous. But Mama told me, 'You smarten up now and tell me how we're gonna cook that turkey, you're so crazy about.' Man, that got me." Sam laughed, lost in the memory now.

"We had turkey stew that Christmas, from a big old kettle over the flames, like the dang pioneers. But it was plenty to go around, since we ended up with probably a dozen strays—that's what my mother used to call 'em—keeping warm at our place. Daddy gave me a knife that year; my first. 'Use it with care, son', he said." Sam released a long sigh.

"When I joined up, I left it at home. Didn't want to risk losing it. But I know for a fact Mama still has it in a box somewhere."

There was a long silence.

"You gonna call home tomorrow?" Bucky asked suddenly.

"Always do," Sam answered.

"Good." He saw Sam's eyebrows quirk, and ducked his head. He couldn't really explain why that was so important to him.

"Nat?" Steve said softly.

She looked up with a start. "Oh. Mmm. First Christmas with Clint's family, I guess."

She paused and looked away, her gaze going 'through' the walls. "You probably know Nick sent Clint after me to kill me. Obviously, he didn't. I'll never know why, what he saw in me. I guess Nick saw it too. Anyway, Cooper was maybe five? Lila was a baby. They had everything, you know: tree, lights, presents, holly, everything. Clint hadn't been home on Christmas Day in a couple years. Don't know why he decided to bring me."

"Bet Laura took one look at you, and asked Clint why he'd been letting his poor Russian sister starve," Steve teased.

Nat glanced at him briefly. He saw her smile, the coolness leaving her face, eyes going soft at the memories. "I didn't know people could– No, I'd forgotten people could be like that."

"Like what?" Sam asked quietly.

"A family."

This time Bucky broke the silence. "Couch cushions. On the floor." He glanced at Steve, saw the smile start in his eyes, work its way to his lips. "You and me trying to fall asleep. But the girls were there too, and they kept giggling. We must have been at your house, and the twins had gotten these little noisemakers, so they kept making duck sounds. Ugh. Wait, did you…?" He stared at Steve, his mind running into a wall.

Steve snorted, though his eyes were wet.

"That was you! You little punk, those drove me nuts!"

"Until you threw them in the bay for the fishes, I saw you." Steve started to crack up. "You told your sisters you had taken them to the 'quack shop' to get cleaned–"

"And someone picked my pocket on the way home. That was true," Bucky insisted.

"Yeah, and you still had the money to go to the movies that evening."

Bucky caught up a pillow, but Steve was laughing now, all out. Blue eyes crinkled up, face flushed, the bed shaking, that impossibly infectious, oddly high-pitched 'hahahaha' that Bucky hadn't heard since…

He was shaking too, laughter spilling out of him. He wasn't even sure what they were losing it over, but the looks on Sam and Natasha's faces made it even worse.

They lay there and laughed until they cried and their sides hurt and they couldn't breathe.

They finally stopped when Sam and Natasha—rolling their eyes, but smiling—got up to leave.

"Wait," Steve called, sitting up weakly.

"It is almost midnight," Nat said.

"Yeah, but…" He scrubbed a hand over his face, caught his breath. What did he want?

"Let's all sleep in here tonight," Bucky said. He shrugged, looked down, his face getting hot. "Like I remember."

Sam laughed. "I remember me and my brother, making Sarah sleep between us so she wouldn't complain about being cold."

"Won't catch me," Nat said, smirking.

"We can take the floor," Steve said, swinging his feet off the bed. "You can have the bed."

She shook her head, but Steve saw her smiling.

The guys discovered that the carpet was actually quite comfortable. "Maybe it's got vibranium in it," Bucky murmured.

On Steve's other side, Sam yawned. "Kinda like sleeping back in the 'Stan."

"Except there aren't any rocks under the tent," Steve answered. He pulled the blanket up to his chin, and heard Nat's quiet voice.

"Like being a kid again."

What could you add to that?

"Merry Christmas, boys."

"Merry Christmas," came three replies.

And at some point they all fell asleep. And nobody had any nightmares.

Author's Note

Ames is a small town in upstate New York. I played with time a bit: the big ice storm was in January 1998. I would put Sam's story in December 1995/6.