A/N: First, I want to apologize for getting this out so late. I really wanted to have the next few chapters published by Christmas, but real life kept getting in the way. But that's okay, we'll just keep the Christmas spirit going a little while longer! I'm so thankful for you all and hope you had a wonderful holiday season!
Summary: Chanel and Bucky arrive in New York, both looking forward to a well-deserved break and spending their first Christmas together. But it seems that there is a Grinch determined to steal their Christmas—but the Grinch has never met Chanel Thomas. She'll stop at nothing to give Bucky the Christmas he deserves.
Chapter 22: Christmas Part 1
17 Days Before Christmas
New York City. On the surface, it's a bustling city of opportunity–a place where dreams come true. But underneath the shiny exterior lies the unforgiving reality of the city that never sleeps. And Chanel was far too familiar with the grimy underbelly that the tourists never saw. Fuzzy memories of her various missions across the city threatened to break through Chanel's walls, demanding her attention.
The bright lights and Christmas decorations were a great distraction as she sat in the back of a yellow taxi with Bucky. Her nose was practically pressed against the window as she tried to take it all in.
"You know we'll be here for a while, right? You can blink." Bucky pinched her side.
"Hey!" Chanel twisted away from him. "That tickles, and your hand is freezing."
"Not my fault you're not properly dressed for the cold." Bucky wrapped his arm around her exposed midriff and pulled her back to his side.
Chanel snuggled against him until her phone started ringing—an unknown number she ignored twice and finally answered on the third ring.
"Who is this?" Chanel said into the phone as she let Bucky help her out of the taxi.
"Hi, draga."
Chanel froze, her mouth agape. "How?"
"The right price—I don't have much time. You're in danger."
"What?" Chanel waved Bucky off and stepped a few feet away. "What are you talking about, Helmut?"
"I've heard things in here–are you still in Wakanda? It's the safest place for you right now."
"How did you know—never mind—we literally just got to New York. What's going on?" Chanel glanced back at Bucky, standing outside of his building with their bags and a frown on his face.
"The Power Broker isn't above using your past enemies to hunt you down."
Chanel clenched her jaw, quickly forming a shortlist of the most likely suspects. "Who is it?"
She heard Zemo make a frustrated noise before he spoke again. "I've got to go, I don't know who–fill James in."
"I—" Chanel looked back at Bucky again; she had promised him a vacation. "I can't tell him; I'll handle it on my own."
"No—don't be stupid; he can protect you."
"I'll be fine—it was nice to hear your voice. Merry Christmas."
Chanel hung up as Zemo continued to argue with her. She took a moment to reset her face, she was not going to let anyone ruin this Christmas for her, and she certainly wasn't going to ruin Bucky's.
"Everything okay?" Bucky asked as she approached.
"All good," Chanel said with a smile as she tilted her chin up, asking for a kiss that Bucky granted.
"Hmm, okay, come on, let's get inside before you get frostbite."
Chanel started rattling off a list of all the Christmas activities they needed to do as they took the elevator to Bucky's floor. Bucky could tell something was off—she was distracted.
Who was on the phone?
"This is us," Bucky let her get off the elevator first and followed behind with their luggage. "I'm the last one on the right."
Chanel skipped the rest of the length to his door and waited excitedly for him to open it.
Bucky sat their bags down. "I gotta get my key from my neighbor; I don't have a spare."
Bucky knocked on the next door over as Chanel leaned against his door frame.
A homely redhead pulled the door open and greeted Bucky with an excited smile. "I thought you were never going to come back!"
"Yeah, sorry," Bucky shrugged. "Thanks for watching my place, Nicki."
Chanel could tell the woman wanted to touch him—her hands were hovering awkwardly. Chanel wondered if she had touched him before and where.
"Wanna come in? I just made dinner."
Chanel crossed her arms and appraised the woman from head to toe. She was average height, older than Chanel was—she could tell by her clothes. She looked like the housewife type, but she wasn't married based on her flirting—and the lack of a ring.
Divorced? Or just that desperate?
"No—no, I just came for my key. Um, my—girlfriend—"Bucky hesitated as he glanced at Chanel. "—is here, and we've got to do some shopping, but thanks for the offer."
"Oh," Nicki's voice went slightly higher-pitched as she tried to hide her look of shock and utter disappointment.
Chanel gave her a small wave when the woman turned to look at her.
"Hi, so lovely to meet you—I didn't know—um, I'm Nicki."
Chanel internally gagged at the huge smile on the woman's face. "Chanel," she said tightly.
"Let me go get the key." Nicki hurried off.
"Girlfriend, huh?" Chanel teased, making Bucky's face flush. "I don't remember you asking me."
"I would have, but I was afraid you would make a joke about how old-fashioned I am."
Chanel nodded in agreement as they both stared at each other like love drunk idiots. They seemed to have blown past all the typical new relationship milestones. At this point, worrying about such trivial labels seemed ridiculous. Chanel quieted the voice in her mind that told her this was dangerous—they needed to slow down. She didn't want to hear that; it was too late.
"You know I'm yours, though, right?"
Bucky didn't get a chance to respond before Nicki was back in the doorway. But he didn't need to. Chanel saw the flicker of emotion in his oceanic eyes—looking at her as if she hung the moon. Bucky wore his heart on his sleeve, and right now, he was telling her it was hers.
"Here you go," Nicki dropped Bucky's key into his gloved hand.
"Thanks again, goodnight."
"Yeah—have fun." Nicki quickly shut the door after Bucky turned his back.
"She seems friendly," Chanel said sarcastically as she followed Bucky into his dark apartment.
"Yeah, she's cool. I don't really know her, but she's the only one on the whole floor who's said more than two words to me."
Chanel made a noise that said, gee, I wonder why?
Bucky flicked on the living room and kitchen lights, and Chanel forgot about Nicki completely. The sad state of his apartment gripped her heart. His living room consisted of only a few pieces of furniture. A tv, one chair, and one dining room chair–no dining table. As she walked into the tiny kitchen, she was saddened even more. He didn't have a coffee machine, a microwave–the counters were bare. She was sure if she opened the cabinets and fridge, they would both be empty.
"I know it's not much—I'm sorry."
Chanel turned to him with a sad smile on her face. "Why are you apologizing?"
"It's just—" Bucky rubbed his neck nervously. "I know you're used to a lot more than this."
"Oh baby," Chanel moved his hand off his neck and brought it to her lips. "You know what I'm used to?"
Bucky raised an eyebrow in question as her lips left gentle kisses on his knuckles.
"I'm used to moving around, being on the run, never being comfortable. I just want to be somewhere stable. Doesn't matter where." Chanel slid her free hand under his shirt and settled her palm over his heartbeat. "I don't need anything other than you—and maybe some food."
Bucky grinned and lifted her up onto the counter; he stood between her legs and let her kiss him until they both had to take a breath. "Food can be arranged."
"And maybe a table."
"Okay, fine. A table. But only because I wanna fuck you on it eventually."
"Oh my god, duh." Chanel giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "And we have to get a tree and Christmas lights, and garland and—" Chanel paused to look at him seriously. "Show me the bedroom."
Bucky reluctantly led her to the one bedroom in his apartment. He had a bed—he just hadn't ever used it.
"Okay, Christmas bedding has been added to the list." Chanel flopped down onto the bare mattress. "It's comfy; you've never slept on it, have you?"
Bucky shook his head. "I'm looking forward to it, though." He laid down next to her, stretching his sore muscles.
"I have to tell you something." Chanel turned on her side to face him. "I got a call a few days ago—from Stephan's lawyer." Chanel cringed at the way her voice faltered when she said his name.
"About what?"
She could see the concern all over Bucky's face. "It wasn't bad," she quickly soothed him. "He said that I was the one and only beneficiary listed in Stephan's will."
"Oh," Bucky breathed out—not quite sure how to feel about that. "So, what does that mean?"
"Well, if I hadn't blown up the villa, it would have been mine. So, that's a bummer. Same goes for everything that was inside. But, there are several cars, boats, one plane, and a lot—I mean a lot of money—all mine."
"Shit—what are you going to do with all of it?"
"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it. The money has already been transferred to my accounts, though. It's freaking me out."
"Why?" Bucky frowned.
"I've never—ever had this much money, Bucky. It's weird. And I feel guilty—he should have left it to someone else. His mother—he had a sister and a brother, both older. They didn't get along, but still—"
Bucky tilted her chin up and kissed her forehead. "There's nothing to feel guilty about. He loved you."
Chanel turned away from him, laying on her back again. She pretended she didn't hear those words that made her want to cry. "Anyway—I'm telling you because I don't want you to argue with me when I pay for everything we're about to buy tonight."
"You don't have to–I have money."
"I said no arguing," Chanel shushed him with a quick kiss to his nose.
Bucky ran his tongue over his teeth as he smiled. "Well, Zemo did say I should let someone spend money on me—glad it's you and not him."
Chanel chuckled, "why do you say that?"
"Helmut would lord it over me for eternity."
"And you think I won't? You think I'm not excited about making you my sugar baby?" Chanel teased.
"Sugar, what now?"
"God, you're clueless sometimes. Never mind, let's go!"
Bucky sat up on his forearms and watched Chanel traipse to the bedroom door. Her simple black sweats did nothing to hide her mouth-watering curves. He tilted his head to the side as she bent over to grab her sneakers, letting his eyes unabashedly roam over her frame. When she turned back around, one hand on the doorknob and an easy smile on her lips, he couldn't help but move his eyes to his second favorite part of her body. These crop top shirts would never make sense to him—just like the holey jeans she was fond of. But, he was learning to appreciate them on her—soft slivers of skin just begging to be touched (or licked). The constant temptation to slide his hands underneath the fabric, knowing he would find her braless most of the time, was becoming almost unbearable.
"Are you coming?" She asked with a knowing smirk on her lips.
Bucky finally dragged his eyes up to her face. "You gotta put something warmer on; you're going to freeze."
"I've got a coat; I look cute—come on."
"Cute," Bucky muttered and rolled his eyes. He grabbed an extra pair of gloves and a scarf when she wasn't looking and followed her out the door.
They returned home late into the evening, both of their arms full of bags and boxes—Chanel wearing the gloves and scarf Bucky had brought for her.
Chanel stocked Bucky's kitchen while he put together the dining table she had bought. If she had forgotten that his development was essentially cut off at 28, grocery shopping with him was a big reminder. A glance at their shopping cart would have one thinking they were stocking a frat house. Chanel liked food more than most, but she forced him to put most of the junk back and buy real food—she had never seen him get so grumpy so fast.
Bucky had a basketball game on tv that he made comments about every now and then. Chanel hummed in response, lost in her thoughts.
While they had been out, she had been on edge, trying to have fun while keeping her eye out for any potential threats. Nothing had happened—this was New York after all, it would be hard for anyone to find her here in this sea of people. She glanced over her shoulder at Bucky and started to relax. The sleeves of his snug black sweater were pushed up to his elbows, those bulging veins in his forearms on full display every time he turned the screwdriver in his hand. He had a slightly annoyed look on his face as he pushed his hair out of his eyes for the hundredth time. But he still looked more at peace than he had since she had met him.
Everything was going to be okay—there was no reason to tell Bucky; he wasn't in any danger. And if something did happen, she'd take care of it on her own like she always had.
"All done!"
Bucky's voice broke Chanel out of her thoughts, and she turned around, a box of sugary cereal in her hand, to admire his work.
"Wow, look at you—all domestic—building furniture and shit."
Bucky placed his hand on the table and smiled proudly. "And you—in the kitchen—hey!" Bucky ducked as the cereal box flew at his head. "I was gonna ask if you wanted to test out the table, but never mind—clearly it's that time of—" Bucky broke off into a fit of giggles as Chanel turned and threw another box—this one mac and cheese—at him.
"You think you're real funny, huh?"
Bucky picked up the boxes and went to the kitchen to wrap his arms around her. "Come on, let's at least make sure I built it right."
Chanel rolled her eyes—but the gentle scratch of his scruff against her neck was heating her up from the inside out.
She let out an irritated breath. "Okay, I guess that's the smart thing to do. I don't want it to collapse when I'm trying to eat breakfast in the morning."
Chanel felt Bucky grin against her throat before he picked her up and carried her to the round, dark wood table. He carefully sat her down, and they both froze for a second, Bucky's hands hovering over her just in case.
"I think we're good; it's pretty." Chanel ran her hand over the table and then pulled Bucky closer to her and kissed him slowly.
Bucky matched her pace, slowly sliding his hands up her sides and under her shirt, gently cupping her breasts and rolling his thumbs over her nipples.
"Been dying to touch you all day," Bucky rasped against her lips before pulling off her shirt—gently squeezing, licking, biting, and sucking before slowly pulling her sweats off.
Chanel tried to unbutton his jeans, but he was already sinking to his knees, kissing down her stomach to the waistband of her underwear.
"Buck," she whined, "wanna see you too."
"Soon," Bucky murmured, looking up at her as he hooked his thumbs into her underwear. "It's only right that my first meal at this table be my favorite one. Don't you think?"
Chanel nodded quickly and raised her hips to allow him to slide her underwear off. She gasped when Bucky roughly pulled her to the edge of the table, one of her legs draped over his shoulder while the other dangled off the table.
Bucky grazed his fingers over the leg on his shoulder, leaving a wake of goosebumps from her knee to her thigh. "Words, doll."
His warm breath sent a chill up her spine, and she groaned. "Yes, please." She gripped a handful of his hair and forced him to look up at her. His face—eyes so wide and innocent, pink lips wet and almost trembling with want, that scruff that was going to burn her thighs so good—made her let out a desperate whine. "God, you're so sexy, Bucky. It's only fair that I get my favorite too, kay?"
Bucky licked his lips in anticipation; he might not last that long, his cock was already painfully straining against his jeans—maybe he should have let her take them off first. "Yes, ma'am."
"Fuck," Chanel half groaned, half growled, and pulled his face to her dripping cunt.
The table was thoroughly christened (and disinfected) that night, and secretly, Chanel hoped that nosy neighbor Nicki heard every noise they made.
16 Days Before Christmas
After decorating their small Christmas tree the next night, Chanel and Bucky took the subway to Central Park. Chanel promptly drug Bucky to the ice skating rink she had only ever seen in the movies. They watched the skaters glide and fall for a while–Chanel was content just standing next to him. His broad chest was covered by a tan turtleneck sweater and his worn leather jacket. His handsome beard and shiny hair–his glowing smile–he looked like a damn supermodel next to her.
Her wistful thinking was interrupted when she noticed someone out of the corner of her eye–someone that wasn't there to experience Christmas magic. No, she would recognize that tacky red tracksuit anywhere.
Fuck. How did they find me?
The more she glanced around her surroundings, the more tracksuits she counted–there were four of them circling closer and closer. She had to deal with this now.
"Hey, Buck?"
"Yeah, doll?"
"I'm kind of hungry; I saw a stand selling beignets when we got here. Could you go get me one?"
"That's a bit of a walk–you're not coming?"
Chanel bounced on her heels nervously as the men got closer. "No, I wanna stay here and watch the skaters. You don't mind, do you?"
"Of course not; I'll be back." Bucky kissed her nose and turned to walk away.
Chanel stayed put until he was out of sight, then she quickly ran away from the ice skating rink and deeper into the park. She cursed herself for not bringing a weapon–she had let her guard down too quickly. She was so desperate to just enjoy her time with Bucky that she had thought she was safe.
Chanel hid in the brush and listened to the crunch of footsteps that had followed her.
"Ms. Thomas," a Russian accented voice called. "We just want to talk to you. Promise."
They passed her hiding spot, and Chanel considered staying put until her palm brushed against cold metal on the ground.
What the fuck?
Partially buried under the brush was a loaded pistol. She thanked whatever god or supernatural being was responsible and jumped from her hiding place, gun raised in front of her.
"Yeah? About what?"
The men turned, the one in the middle putting his hands up calmly. "Now, there's no need for that."
"What do you want?" Chanel flicked the safety off and took a step closer.
"Well, that depends on you." The man stuck his fat finger in Chanel's face. "Boss wants to talk to you–preferably alive, but if you want to do things the hard way…."
Chanel laughed dryly. "I don't think so. He's not much of a talker."
The man stepped forward, undeterred. "See, I told her you wouldn't care about death. The stories I've heard make it sound like you seek it out." He circled around her, the scent of his cologne making Chanel grimace.
"But, Boss doesn't know about your–boyfriend?"
Chanel whipped around and knocked the man to the ground, her knee pressed against his chest. "Don't," she threatened.
"Ah, so boyfriend it is," the man laughed. "Do you want to take that trip with us now?"
"No." Chanel jumped up, her limbs a coordinated blur as she disarmed and incapacitated her victims.
Breathing hard, she looked at her watch–Bucky would be back soon.
"You're going to regret this," the man groaned from the ground.
Chanel stood over him, her foot pressed harshly into his chest. "You tell your boss, this is a warning–I swear–if you go near him–I'll make your deaths slow and painful. I'm sure you've heard the stories."
Without a glance back, Chanel ran back to the skating rink just before Bucky showed up with her snack.
"Sorry it took so long; there was a line." Bucky handed her the beignet with a smile.
"Was it good?" She chuckled as she reached up and brushed white powder out of his beard.
"Delicious." Bucky licked his lips, tasting the last bit of sugar. "Hey, are you feeling okay? You're sweating."
"Yeah–totally." Chanel turned back to the ice skaters and took a big bite of her beignet.
"Are you sure?" Bucky pressed.
Chanel nodded enthusiastically. "Wanna skate?"
Bucky was hesitant, but when she looked at him with puppy dog eyes, the next thing he knew, he was lacing up his ice skates.
"Have you done this before?" Bucky asked Chanel as he stumbled onto the ice skating rink.
"Kind of," Chanel smiled, spinning in circles around him.
"What does that mean?"
Bucky was good at many, many things but staying upright on his ice skates was not one. He stuck his arms out for balance and moved his feet as slowly as possible.
Chanel giggled and grabbed his gloved hands in hers, skating backward and pulling him along.
"A Russian target taught me a few years ago," Chanel grinned as Bucky rolled his eyes. "And then, of course, I ended up killing him with one of my skates."
Chanel twirled away from him, leaving him frowning after her.
"Show off," Bucky huffed when Chanel skated up behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso. "Are you serious?"
"No, I didn't kill him with a skate...I used a gun, much less messy."
Bucky shook his head, laughing quietly. He watched her twirl around while holding the railing in a death grip. She was grinning, but Bucky wasn't convinced it was genuine. Sometimes he hated how perceptive he was—she had given him no real reason to worry, but he couldn't ignore the minor signs that only he could perceive. It was the way her eyes shifted around when she thought he wasn't watching her, the little v between her brows that meant she was likely running scenarios in her head—that mysterious phone call.
Stop self-sabotaging, Barnes.
If something was wrong, she would tell me now that we're together—wouldn't she?
"Come on, you can go a little faster." Chanel held out her mitten-covered hand, snapping Bucky out of his thoughts.
"Don't let me fall," he said seriously, not letting go of the railing until she nodded her agreement.
He slowly got the hang of it as they glided around the rink. Their noses were rosy from the cold and their cheeks hurt from laughter.
"I've always wanted to do this," Chanel said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm glad I get to do it with you."
"Me too, doll." Bucky leaned in to kiss her but was interrupted by a short, round woman tapping his arm.
"Excuse me, you're the Winter Soldier...right?"
Bucky tried not to look annoyed; this happened every now and then. He nodded, scanning the ice rink to see if anyone else had noticed.
"Can my son get a picture with you?"
Bucky wanted to say no, but he didn't want to be a disappointment—he briefly glanced at Chanel, who squeezed his hand. But, the woman wasn't waiting for a response; she was already pushing her son next to Bucky and holding her phone up.
"Not tonight, thanks, though," Chanel said as pleasantly as she could while moving in front of Bucky.
"Chanel, it's okay—" Bucky muttered, guilt building as he watched the kid shuffle away.
Chanel ignored him, standing her ground and smiling tightly at the woman who still wasn't leaving.
"Just a quick—"
"I said no, now please go before you draw any more attention to Sergeant Barnes." Chanel gestured for the woman to leave, and she did with a huff and a glare back in their direction.
"You didn't have to do that," Bucky whispered.
"You're too nice. You take one picture, and then everyone wants one."
"Thanks, doll."
Bucky kissed her, but Chanel could tell the mood was ruined. He was on edge, and his eyes were shifting around quickly, assessing the threat level.
"Come on, let's go home and make some hot chocolate; I'm cold." Chanel grabbed his hand and pulled him to the exit.
As they sat and put their shoes back on, Chanel glanced up. She happened to notice the woman from earlier, a few feet away, with her camera pointing in their direction.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Chanel muttered.
"What?" Bucky looked up and followed her gaze. "Chanel, it's fine, I swear."
"No, it's not! I told her no pictures, how hard is that?!" Chanel stomped off toward the woman before Bucky could stop her.
The woman noticed Chanel approaching and quickly stuffed her phone in her pocket.
"I thought I said no pictures?" Chanel cornered the woman and held out her hand.
"I—hey! You can't do that!" The woman yelled as Chanel pushed her against the wall and pulled her phone out of her pocket.
"Delete them, and I'll leave you alone." Chanel held the phone out, waiting for the woman to enter her passcode.
"You—no—you can't do this!" The woman was flushed red, looking around for someone to complain to.
"Fine, I gave you a choice." Chanel dropped the phone on the ground and crushed it with her ice skate. "Now, maybe you'll think twice before filming people without their consent." Chanel dumped the broken pieces of the woman's cellphone into her shaking hands and went back to Bucky.
"Ready?"
"Yeah," Bucky's lips curled into a crooked smile, "you're crazy. Thank you."
"Anytime," Chanel giggled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cold cheek.
That night Chanel was too wired to sleep. The Tracksuit Mafia wouldn't let her go easily; they would be back. And she was racking her mind for who their new boss could be. A woman—Yoshe? The Power Broker herself? Someone she had forgotten about? Truly the options were limitless.
The woman taking pictures of them was also disconcerting. Chanel had experienced a lot in her lifetime, but never anything like that—curiosity got the best of her. She downloaded Instagram and made a throwaway account. A search of Bucky's name resulted in thousands of posts about him. Most of them were innocent, a few were creepy, and a lot more than she expected were paparazzi shots of him that he clearly didn't know were being taken. Her finger froze when she saw one of the two of them together. It had been taken the day they had arrived in New York and posted by a trash news site, The Daily Bugle.
"What the fuck?" She murmured to herself.
The caption described her as 'The Winter Soldier's sneaky link' and also managed to allude to the uncertainty of Bucky's innocence. The picture wasn't all that flattering either; she had been wearing sweats and a crop top, her coat in her hands. The comments were worse than the caption.
Who is this bitch?
He doesn't look happy with her.
The guy murders hundreds and is just allowed to roam the streets? What kind of psychobitch would date him anyway?
And there were more pictures after that one...how had she not noticed this? Anyone could see these—they would know precisely where she and Bucky were on a daily basis. Her chest tightened, anxiety quickly taking over. She couldn't breathe as she clutched her phone in her hand. Bucky stirred next to her, and she slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom to avoid waking him.
She dug out the bottle of vodka she had hidden under the sink and sat on the floor against the cabinet door. She lost herself down a rabbit hole of pictures of her and Bucky. The fact that her face was plastered all over the Internet should have been the most pressing issue. Still, she was quickly distracted by the comments people left on the pictures. It was hard not to take them personally. Who were these people? Judging her and Bucky so freely behind the safety of their screens. What gave them the right?
She grimaced when she found pictures from that evening. There were a few cute ones of them laughing and skating together, but the invasion of privacy made her skin crawl just as much as the non-flattering shots. She scrolled through the comments, and her jaw clenched when she found a particularly rude one that called her a litany of names and got slightly racist toward the end. She rolled her eyes when she realized it was posted by the woman whose phone she had destroyed that evening.
Despite the sick feeling that was taking over her, Chanel kept scrolling. She was on the verge of tears but couldn't stop.
Looks like the Winter Soldier has jungle fever.
She's barely black enough for that.
Annoying looking, but nice ass.
Bet it's fake.
She's too skinny, I hate when guys date girls who don't eat.
Nah, look at her thighs, she could stand to lose a few pounds.
She hadn't realized how much time had passed until Bucky knocked on the door and asked if she was okay.
"Shit," she murmured as she realized the time. "I'm okay, just a second." She scrambled to put the lid back on the vodka bottle and threw it back under the sink.
Chanel's voice was not convincing, and Bucky slowly opened the door. She was frantically wiping her tears.
"Doll, what's going on? What's wrong?" Bucky knelt down next to her, panic in his eyes.
"It's nothing," Chanel sniffled. "Let's just go back to bed."
"It's not nothing; you're crying." Bucky glanced down at the phone in her hands and saw the last picture she had pulled up. "What's this?"
Chanel sighed and gave him the phone. "I got caught up looking at pictures people have posted of us...I didn't realize that was happening, and I know I should have stopped reading, but I couldn't."
Bucky sat back against the bathtub and scrolled through the comments, his frown increasing with each one he read. "I'm sorry—I knew people took pictures of me sometimes, but I had no idea it was this bad. Shit, I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault—people just suck."
"I know," Bucky wrapped an arm around her and kissed her head. "Don't let it get to you. No more—what is this?"
"Instagram," Chanel chuckled. "And you're right. I definitely don't need to look at this ever again."
"Come back to bed," Bucky said as he picked her up.
"You know, if you want to cut your hair again, I wouldn't mind."
Bucky furrowed his brows as he sat Chanel down on the bed. "Why do you say that?"
"Shuri told me you cut it because it made you less recognizable."
Bucky got back into bed and pulled her close to his side. "Thanks, doll, but I like your hands in it too much. Get some sleep."
"Okay," Chanel yawned and snuggled close to him, letting his warmth relax her until she was fast asleep.
13 Days Before Christmas
The past couple of days had been a whirlwind of Christmas festivities—ice skating had been just the beginning. Between making sure Bucky was having the best Christmas possible, staying vigilant against the Tracksuits, and trying to ignore the festering feelings over Stephan's murder that she refused to deal with—Chanel was exhausted. She woke up later than usual—she sat up and stretched; Bucky was gone, his side of the bed long cold. The sound of Christmas music brought a smile to her lips. She slipped her feet into fuzzy slippers and pulled one of Bucky's henleys over her head before making her way to the living room.
She paused and leaned against the wall; Bucky was sitting in the middle of the room, which he had decorated while she was asleep, trying to wrap a gift. Chanel bit back a laugh as he shook his hand in an attempt to get a piece of tape to lay straight and huffed in annoyance when it just stuck together.
"Need some help there, Buck?"
Bucky looked up and smiled. "Good afternoon; I was about to come check your pulse."
Chanel stood next to him and ran her hands through his hair. "Whatever—what are you doing?"
"Well, I put the decorations up, and I went to pick up your gift—I wanted to have everything done before you got up, but the tape is holding me up."
Chanel giggled and sat on her knees next to him. "Here, let me help." She took his hand and peeled off the failed pieces of tape. "You hold the paper; I'll do the tape."
Bucky did as she said and smiled proudly at her when they were done. "My first time wrapping a gift in decades—it could have gone worse."
"You're so cute; come here," Chanel giggled and pulled him by his shirt to her lips; he tasted like coffee and peppermints—a swirl of Christmas on her tongue. "I love the decorations; it feels like a real Christmas now."
"And look," Bucky pulled her off the ground and to the kitchen window. "It's snowing!"
"Oh fuck yes!" Chanel turned to Bucky with keen eyes, and she didn't have to say anything else.
"Get dressed; I wanna take you somewhere."
"Okay!" Chanel said giddily.
Bucky kissed her before she could pull away, sliding his hands up the back of her thighs to squeeze her ass. He gave it a light smack before letting her go.
"Hey, what was that for?" Chanel pushed his chest playfully.
"You know you can't wear this shirt without repercussions. Now hurry before I change my mind about letting you out of bed today."
Chanel bit her lip and smiled at him. "Okay, but maybe you can keep me confined to the bed tonight."
"Go," Bucky laughed and pushed her away.
"That's a yes!" Chanel called over her shoulder.
Prospect Park's greenery, which typically served as an oasis in the concrete jungle, was covered in white as snow fell from the grey sky. As Chanel and Bucky strolled hand-in-hand, they passed several groups of kids, excited to have a snow day, and a few committed joggers bundled up against the cold.
"This was my favorite place to come with Steve when we were kids."
Bucky paused to stare wistfully at the winter scenery. They were far enough into the park now that the children's laughter had faded, and the rest of the world seemed to melt away.
Chanel smiled as she watched him relive his youth—imaging him and Steve running through the park, maybe one or two of Bucky's sisters tagging along.
"It's beautiful—especially now with the snow." Chanel held out her gloved hands to catch the falling snowflakes. "It's nice and quiet too—at least compared to Central Park."
"Yeah, I figured we both needed that today." Bucky grinned as he watched Chanel stick her tongue out to catch snowflakes. "You're a dork."
"No, I'm not; you just don't like to have fun." Chanel skipped away from him and threw herself on the ground to make a snow angel. "Come on!"
Bucky stood over her, watching as she spread her arms and legs out in the snow. "I'm already cold enough as it is."
Chanel quickly sat up and yanked his arm until he joined her in the snow.
"Fine," Bucky grumbled as he laid back next to her.
Chanel admired their work, quickly snapping a picture with her phone. "You're so big," she giggled as she laid down in the snow angel Bucky had made.
"Maybe you're just extra small," Bucky teased as he knelt over her to kiss her lips.
Chanel tried to grab his face to keep him attached to her, but he jerked back when her snow-covered mittens touched his skin.
"Oops, sorry—I forgot." Chanel quickly discarded her gloves and grabbed Bucky's face, kissing him again.
"You know your hands are still freezing, right?" Bucky complained but made no move to remove her cold hands from his skin.
"Well, I can't help myself, not when you have snowflakes in your eyelashes and somehow look both adorable and so fuckable at the same time."
Bucky rolled his eyes but leaned in to kiss her again. "So you can't control yourself, and I gotta suffer?"
I'll warm them up," Chanel laughed as she slid her hands into Bucky's hair. "I gotta keep 'em right here until they're warm."
"Fine by me," Bucky smiled and continued kissing her. He moved his lips to her ear and then down to her neck, seeking out her sweet spot with expertise. He couldn't resist, he was so happy, and she was so perfect—he didn't care that he could feel the snow seeping through his jeans and his gloves or that they were very much in public.
"Buck—wha—what are you doing?" Chanel squirmed under him, trying to resist wrapping her legs around his waist.
"Kissing you," Bucky murmured.
"Doing a little more than that—" Chanel's breath hitched as Bucky laid his weight on top of her, his big warm body absolutely swallowing her whole. "Buck—" she tried to protest, but her thoughts turned to dust as Bucky bit her neck and then soothed the area with his warm tongue.
Chanel wrapped her legs around his waist then, no longer able to resist.
"You like that, doll?"
"You know I do—you're starting something you can't finish, Barnes." Chanel arched her back as much as she could under his weight. "You ever fucked someone in the snow?"
Bucky chuckled against her skin, rubbing his cold nose along the column of her throat. "I can't say that I have, you?"
"It's a very bad idea."
"So, that's a yes—" Bucky was interrupted by the sudden sting of cold snow against the side of his face. "I know you did not just do that."
Chanel was already laughing underneath him as she hurried and formed another snowball. She threw it at his chest when he sat up.
Bucky looked at the snow splattered on his jacket with shock before he quickly pinned Chanel's hands to the ground, leaning over her again. "You've got 10 seconds to run."
Bucky quirked an eyebrow at her, knowing his effect on her, and then let her go.
Chanel quickly scrambled to her feet, grabbed her gloves, and put them back on as she ran into the trees, laughing the whole way.
She hopped over a fallen tree and ducked behind it, quickly forming as many snowballs as possible. She strained her ears but couldn't hear Bucky at all.
Stupid quiet assassin.
She chanced a peek around and saw nothing but snow and trees. The snowball was unexpected when it hit her directly in the face. She gasped in shock and quickly ducked back down.
Okay, I'm gonna kill him.
Chanel wiped her face and grabbed two snowballs. When she popped up, Bucky was waiting, a few feet away behind a tree. She dodged the snowball he sent her way and threw both of hers as hard as she could.
"That was not cool, Barnes!" Chanel ducked again as another ball of snow came her way.
"Don't be a sore loser!"
They were still at it an hour later, too stubborn and competitive to stop when normal people would have. Chanel could hardly feel her hands and feet—both of their noses were bright red, and they had ventured several miles into the park as Chanel ran from him.
"Doll—I think we should head back now."
Bucky groaned as Chanel threw another snowball at his chest. He wasn't hiding anymore.
"So, does that mean I win?"
"No! No, it means the game is over—you're gonna get frostbite."
"Someone has to win, Bucky! And you're quitting so—"
"Oh my god, you're ridiculous."
Chanel came out from behind the tree she used as cover and crossed her arms. "I may have lost feeling in my hands and feet—but I—"
"No," Bucky ran to her and scooped her up into his arms. "It's a tie, and we're going home. I would like you to keep all your fingers and toes, please."
Chanel rolled her eyes. "A tie," she mumbled. "I won."
"Yeah, yeah—if you won, it's only because I let you."
"You let me?!" Chanel indignantly huffed. "You put me down right now, Barnes. This is not over."
"Counter proposal." Bucky shook his head at the frown on her face. "New competition when we get home—first one to make the other come wins."
Chanel threw her head back in laugher. "Easy, you're on."
Bucky sat Chanel down on a park bench and directed her to take off her shoes, socks, and gloves. He pulled fresh ones out of his backpack and helped her put them on.
"You're always prepared—were you a boy scout or something?" Chanel asked as she put her boots back on.
"No, but Steve and I always wanted to be."
"Well, thank you, this is much better." Chanel kissed his cheek while he changed his own socks. "Can I ask you something?"
Bucky just raised his brows, indicating the answer was yes.
"Were you and Steve—like—" Chanel paused, unsure how to phrase her question and hoping Bucky would get the gist.
"Like what?"
"Did you love him?" She blurted out.
Bucky looked slightly surprised by the question. "I mean—yes."
"But like, were you in love with him? Were you together?"
"We weren't together," Bucky cleared his throat and slightly frowned. "But—yeah, I was in love with him."
Chanel took his hand. "How long?"
Bucky huffed out a breath of air. "I don't know—like forever—until he left, well that's not true. I—I don't know."
He turned to her with a look of desperation and confusion, and Chanel scooted closer to him, staying silent to allow him to process his thoughts.
"I just felt so stupid," he finally whispered.
That wasn't what Chanel was expecting to hear—she searched his face for a hint at what he was thinking. Then it dawned on her. Of course—Steve didn't return Bucky's feelings—he left him behind. A wave of anger washed over her—even though she was happy Bucky's path led him to her, any hurt he faced along the way made her want to punch someone (in their perfect teeth).
"That bastard didn't deserve you," she mumbled as she wrapped her arms tightly around Bucky's torso.
"It's not like that—I still love him, and I understand why he did what he did. I truly hope he's happy now; he deserves it."
"See, I told you—too nice."
"I gotta be extra nice to make up for you." Bucky kissed the top of her head to let her know he was only teasing.
"I'm sorry, though—can I ask another question?"
"Doll, you can just ask; you don't need permission." Bucky stood up and held her hand as they walked to the subway station.
"Zemo—how did you feel about him?"
Bucky smiled faintly at the mention of their friend. "He's—complicated."
"No shit."
"I think we'll be good, long-distance friends. He was really there for me. Especially when you were gone, and we didn't know if you were okay or even still alive."
Chanel rubbed Bucky's arm, soothing the tension building at the memory.
"I can't say that he's not attractive—"
"Obviously." Chanel smiled. "Too bad you didn't work that out sooner—would have made for a very hot threesome."
When Bucky didn't respond, Chanel smiled wider and looked up to catch the blush on his cheeks. "Oh my god, you've thought about it—haven't you?"
"I—I—we're gonna miss our train," Bucky stuttered and mumbled as Chanel laughed her ass off.
The whole train ride home, Chanel drilled Bucky with questions.
Was Helmut the first man you kissed?
Yes.
So no sex then—with men?
Nope.
What are your kinks? Fantasies?
Should we talk about this in private?
Fine, what's your favorite thing to do?
Bucky hadn't been able to answer the last question—he didn't have any hobbies. Until this week, he rarely went out except for therapy or to see Nakajima. Chanel tried to make him feel better about it, telling him he just hadn't had time to figure out who he was outside of his superhero role.
They were in Bucky's kitchen now—Chanel had easily (and quickly) won the contest by introducing Bucky to a pleasure zone he hadn't realized he had.
Bucky's tongue froze, and his muscles tightened. "What are you doing?"
Chanel pulled her mouth off him with a pop. "Just relax," she sat on his chest and reached behind her for the lube. "Tell me if you want me to stop."
Bucky took a deep breath and relaxed his muscles, letting her spread his legs open. He flinched when the cold lube made contact with his skin.
"If you wanna win, you better get back to work." Chanel wiggled her hips in his face, and he dove back in.
He tried to ignore her finger as it slowly slid inside him, focusing on getting her off on his tongue. But that was nearly impossible once she started moving.
"Oh fuck!" Bucky gripped her hips tighter as her finger slowly curled inside of him. "What the hell—what are you doing—oh god, yes! Don't stop!"
Chanel sped up the come-hither motion of her finger, a Cheshire grin spreading across her face.
He was still blushing as he helped her make lunch—chopping vegetables and refusing to meet her eyes.
"What do you think? Should I add one or two chicken breasts?" Chanel wiggled her fingers at him over the open fridge door.
"Uh—two, I guess," Bucky quickly looked away, knowing she was toying with him.
"Are you sure that won't make us feel stuffed too full?"
"Very funny," Bucky mumbled, not looking up from his cutting board.
Chanel couldn't keep the smile off her face. Sometimes he was too adorable and innocent for his own good—and she ate it up like fucking candy. She swatted his toned ass when she passed by him. "The vegetables look great; good boy," she purred in his ear, deepening his blush.
Bucky couldn't keep up; the taste of her on his tongue was just driving him closer to orgasm. She added a second finger, and an involuntary low groan left his lips as he threw his head back. He'd never felt anything like this—white-hot pleasure throughout his entire body. It seemed to start in his curled toes and burn through every nerve up to his watering eyes.
Chanel paused and moved from his chest to between his legs—his fingers weakly clung to her soft hips as she slipped from his grasp. She wanted to see the look on his face when he came for her.
Her fingers slipped back in, and she wrapped her lips around his leaking shaft, moaning at the whine that left his throat.
Bucky had lost complete control—his hands gripped the sheets, and his hips alternated between thrusting into the wet heat of her mouth and grinding down onto her fingers. A constant string of expletives left his mouth in various octaves ranging from a shout to a pained whimper.
Chanel moaned and pulled her mouth off him. "Come on, baby, be a good boy and come for me." She swallowed him again and moved her fingers in tight, fast circles.
"Fuck! Oh fuck—oh—Jesus doll—oh," Bucky groaned and pushed her head down, shoving his throbbing cock deep into her throat as he came.
An almost painful pleasure surrounded him until he couldn't breathe. It was never-ending and all-consuming—he felt it everywhere. He was barely aware that his hand was still in Chanel's hair as he kept his cock in her throat while her fingers milked him dry.
Chanel barely had the patience to wait for him to catch his breath before she was fucking herself silly on his sensitive but still rock-hard cock.
"Oh—Chanel—too much, please," Bucky gripped her hips to make her stop.
Chanel leaned forward, not stopping the bounce of her hips, and clamped her hand around his throat. Her pussy fluttered as she watched his eyes go wide.
"Whose dick is this?" she gasped as she pushed herself closer to orgasm.
"Yours—all yours!" Bucky groaned when her fingers tightened around his throat. "Take it—use me, please."
"That's it." Chanel sat up, keeping her hand around his neck, and fucked him hard and fast. "Such a good boy."
As they waited for their soup to finish cooking, Chanel finally took pity on him and restarted their conversation from the train. "What did you like to do in the 40s?"
"I boxed, actually; I was pretty good. And we went dancing a lot."
"A boxer and a dancer—makes sense."
Chanel brought their bowls of soup to the table; Bucky devoured his, and Chanel gave him the rest of hers.
"Doll—I wanna open the file."
Chanel's eyebrows shot up. "The one from Shuri?"
Bucky nodded apprehensively. "Being here in the city with you—it reminds me of my past life, and I think it's time."
Chanel stood up and kissed his forehead. "Go get it; I'll clean this up." She took his empty bowls and went to the kitchen.
Bucky returned with the file in his slightly shaking hands—he didn't know why he was so nervous. He sat back down at the table and laid the file in front of him, just staring at it until Chanel cleared her throat.
"Do you want me to open it?"
Bucky shook his head. "No, I just need a second."
Chanel left her chair and motioned for him to scoot away from the table so she could sit in his lap. He wrapped one arm around her hips and grabbed the file.
They looked through it together; Shuri had gone above and beyond—of course. She had included pictures of weddings, kids, birthdays, holidays—his sisters' lives that he had missed, pieced together through photographs.
Chanel was crying almost as much as Bucky was. She stayed quiet, rubbing his back soothingly. She had been jealous before, but seeing him so happy did nothing but make her happy for him. He deserved this, and she made a mental note to send Shuri a fantastic gift to thank her.
"Holy shit," Bucky whispered.
"What is it, baby?"
"This—it says that Betty is still alive!" Bucky jumped up—thank god for his catlike reflexes, or he would have dumped Chanel on the floor.
"Seriously? She was the youngest, right?" Chanel stood at the table while Bucky paced around excitedly.
"Yeah! I didn't think any of them would still be around. There's no address or phone number, though."
Chanel crossed the room and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I'm sure someone on the list will know how to contact her. Call them."
"Yeah—yeah, you're right." Bucky kissed her quickly before sitting back down at the table and pulling his phone out.
"Hi—uh—is this Connor? This is James—Barnes."
Chanel busied herself in the apartment as Bucky's phone conversation stretched on. She finished cleaning the kitchen and then went to the bedroom. She rolled her eyes and picked up Bucky's clothes that he liked to throw on the floor. They had already argued about this more than once, yet clothes still ended up on the floor every day.
Who knew the Winter Soldier was such a slob?
After tidying up, she flopped on the bed and did a little digging on the Tracksuit Mafia.
If I can find pictures of Bucky and me on Instagram, these idiots are on there too.
They weren't hard to find; one profile for a man named Ivan proudly stated his affiliation with the gang. She scrolled through the pictures and deduced that they often met at an old KB Toys warehouse, but that was way out of town.
There's no way I could be gone for that long without Bucky getting suspicious.
She kept digging, eventually finding a link to Ivan's TikTok account–mostly videos of his attempted music career. She was about to give up when she landed on a recent video advertising a Christmas carol event at Macy's the following day.
Bingo!
If I can catch him off guard, I can definitely get him to tell me who they're working for now.
Chanel stuck her head out the door to check on Bucky; he was still talking to Connor–she hadn't heard him talk this much since she met him.
She locked her phone and put it away; she figured Bucky would be hungry again soon, and she had been enjoying playing chef, so she started making a second lunch.
Sam's sister, Sarah, had taught both Sam and Chanel several traditional recipes when they were younger. One, in particular, stuck because it was Chanel's favorite—jambalaya. The familiar smells of the spices as she chopped and sauteed made her feel like she could hear the gentle waves of the bayou if she just listened hard enough.
Bucky looked up and raised his eyebrows when he smelled the bell peppers, onions, and jalapenos.
Chanel gave him a quick smile and continued with her work. As she was putting everything in the oven, Bucky wrapped up his phone call and came to stand behind her.
"That smells amazing, doll—sorry I was on the phone so long."
"Don't apologize; it's fine. Sounded like it went well?"
"Yeah," Bucky said brightly. "He's cool, and he invited me—us—over for Christmas."
"You want me to go?"
"Of course, but I told him we'd come the day after—I still want to be selfish with you for a bit longer."
Chanel smiled and leaned in for a kiss. "That sounds perfect. Did he know where Betty is?"
Bucky frowned slightly. "She's at a nursing home upstate. He said she's doing well, though, and they go see her as often as they can."
"Should we go see her?"
"Connor lives upstate too—I figured we could go when we visit them."
"Whatever you want, I'm there."
"Thank you," Bucky grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, kissing her again. "What are you making in here?"
"Jambalaya. But I didn't have shrimp, so I had to make do with only chicken. I figured you'd be hungry again soon."
"You know, I've eaten ridiculously more food since you've been here than when I was alone."
"I'm trying to see if I can feed you enough to give you a little belly," Chanel teased as she slipped her hand under his shirt and caressed his abs.
Bucky hummed happily and kissed her more forcefully, his stomach tensing when she moved her hand lower.
"Does me being your little housewife turn you on, Bucky?"
Bucky didn't answer—he lifted her onto the kitchen counter, trying to shut her up with his tongue in her mouth.
Chanel pulled back. "I'll take that as a yes," she giggled. "You want me to take care of you? Feed you? And then let you destress after a long day by letting you fuck me however you see fit?"
Bucky groaned against her neck. "I'm sorry, I don't know why that turns me on. I'm sorry."
Chanel busted out laughing as Bucky got increasingly needier, his lips moving down to the tops of her breasts and his hands groping everywhere.
"Does this mean you're done pouting about losing the contest?"
"Oh doll, I was done pouting the second you started curling your fingers. I will proudly lose any contest that involves you doing that again and again and again." Bucky bit into her cleavage, his frustration building too quickly for him to handle.
The action made Chanel's legs spread almost involuntarily. "Well, you have 45 minutes until this timer—" Chanel screamed when Bucky lifted her off the counter and threw her over his shoulder—taking her straight to the bedroom.