The Christmas Game
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I just love these characters.
Summary: Natasha intends to spend Christmas alone but Bucky turns her plans upside down when he decides to give her a proper Christmas. And what if he goes a little overboard? This is the season, after all. And Natasha turns out to be okay with that in the end. (A BuckyNat AU where they all happily live in the Avengers Compound. Steggy is also mentioned just because I love them, too.) It is only a very, very mild M rating; I wasn't really sure how to rate this...
So, I had a couple of ideas for my first BuckyNat fic. None of them was this one. It is an unashamed Christmas fluff which is only an excuse for Bucky and Nat to be cute. But, maybe, we all need that after this year. Happy Holidays, Everyone!
Natasha padded towards the kitchen on silent feet. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep and she had a bad case of bed hair but she really didn't care. She was alone in the living quarters, assigned to the Avengers, of the Compound at the moment, so she decided not to care about appearances, a habit which she found hard to shake even among friends. But, without anybody as witness, she was all too happy to crawl out of bed in her worn but incredibly warm PJs and head straight to the kitchen to gather a mug of tea before crawling right back into bed.
Actually, that was her plans for the holidays. After the madness that her life had been lately, she was looking forward to just laying low for a couple of blissful days. As much as she loved the Barton kids, or, as much as intriguing spending a Christmas with Mama Wilson sounded, she desperately needed time for herself. So, she kindly turned down every invitation and holed up in her room.
She had to be disappointed, though, she realized as she reached the kitchen.
"What are you doing here?" she asked the man standing by the counter in a clipped tone that came out harsher than she had intended.
"What are you doing here?" Bucky turned and threw the question back at her.
"Sorry," Natasha winced. "It came out all wrong. I just thought I'm the only one here."
"I can see that," he gave her an amused look and a mug of tea. The former Natasha ignored but she gratefully accepted the latter. "Like the look. But why the hell does that cat have a horn?" He eyed her fluffy sweater with a confused expression.
"It's not a cat," she answered defensively. soaking up the warmth of the mug. "It's a caticorn."
"A cati… what?"
"A caticorn. A unicorn with a cat's body."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"No," Natasha actually smiled at his expression, finding him adorable. "But it's cute."
"It certainly is," he agreed, looking her straight in the eye, which made Natasha squirm ever so slightly. She cleared her throat. "And anyway, what are those?" she raised an eyebrow, taking in his bright red socks which were in stark contrast with his otherwise dark attire.
"These?" he looked down at the items which Natasha was still eyeing with stunned disbelief. "These are my Christmas socks." He wiggled his toes. "You like them?"
"Not the word I'd use," Natasha muttered but couldn't help the smile that was tugging at her lips. The man had no right to look that adorable.
"Too bad. I like them. Did you know that they make almost everything with a holiday theme?"
"Really? I haven't noticed." She offered, letting a little sarcasm color her voice, which, however, went ignored by the former assassin, who went on unperturbed.
"It's so strange that you don't just resole your old shoes for the holidays but you can actually buy ones with candy canes on them!"
"And that idea makes you awfully excited."
"You've got to admit that's crazy."
"Exactly."
"All right. Forgive the old man who missed the last seventy years. After everything, candy cane adorned boots seem pretty exciting."
"That's all right," Natasha gave him a warm smile from behind her mug. "You should have seen Steve after he'd been thawed. It took me two years to make him lose the grandfather pants and have him cut his hair. Compared to that, you're coping pretty well. Plus, you definitely don't look like Mr. Jackson from the corner store down the street."
"Geez, thanks."
"Do I smell food?" Natasha asked, smelling the wonderful aroma that had begun to fill the air, wondering all the while just how long she'd slept in.
Bucky's eyes rounded out and he promptly rushed to the oven.
"Roast duck," he told her, hastily pulling the bird out.
"Not too well-done, I hope." She walked up to the man, waiting for his reply. Bucky eyed the bird critically before a huge satisfied grin lit up his face.
"Just perfect," he declared and Natasha scoffed. Of course, it was food which would make him lose the hard edges of his features. "Care to join me?"
"Oh, I do not want to impose." It came as an automatic reply, one which Natasha found herself regretting making. She stuck with it, nonetheless. It was easier. "I just came to grab my morning tea."
"I do not mind," he reassured her all too quickly, which made Natasha arch an eyebrow. "And besides, you should eat something with that tea."
She wanted to accept. She wanted to escape back to her room. "Well, I do like roast duck." She found herself saying. What the Hell?
"So, what are you doing here in your Christmas socks?" Natasha inquired over a generous serving of roast meat after the silence drew out. "I thought you were off with Mr. and Mrs. America to celebrate the holidays somewhere… not here."
"Well, yeah," Bucky nodded, helping himself to another serving of mashed potato. "Then I realized that they haven't got much quality time together lately, so I decided to give them some room."
"Isn't that awfully nice of you?" Natasha wrinkled her nose in amusement and apparent disbelief.
"Yeah," Bucky shrugged noncommittally. "That and the British monster in Peggy reared its ugly head and they started arguing about the proper way of celebrating… So, I thought I was better off here where nobody gives a damn whether I say ornament or bauble."
That made Natasha laugh out loud which, in turn, stunned her into silence again. Bucky returned to stuffing potato into his mouth. He looked too smug for his own good, though.
All in all, lunch was a fairly pleasant event. She had always found herself intrigued by the brooding Winter Soldier. She was attracted to him, which she chalked up to the simple fact that he'd come from a similar background to hers. Not to mention that she found him dangerous. She liked that. But she had never dared to satisfy her interest in the man. He was Steve's best friend, after all, and no kink of hers would overwrite that simple fact. But to find him such an easy company was a pleasant surprise. To find herself enjoying his company was an unexpected realization; like the fact that she hadn't thought of him as the Winter Soldier whole afternoon. And yet, she was just as much attracted to his easy charm as she was to his dark reserve.
"You know," Natasha mused, sipping her hot apple cider, "this is quite nice. Despite not wanting to do Christmas this year, I feel rather Christmas-y."
"Really?" He gave her a funny look. "After a meal of roast duck and a mug of mulled cider?"
"Maybe it's the company?" Once again, she found herself share more than she had intended to. She clamped up at once.
Bucky didn't seem to fare any better as he was obviously trying to find something to say to that.
"I…" he tried. "I was to read a Christmas story later. Maybe you should join. You might enjoy it."
"Oh, no, thank you," Natasha laughed, finished her cider, and stood up, suddenly feeling not so comfortable in the present company. "I really don't do Christmas. If you make more of this cider, you can leave it on the counter but I won't get all mushy just because it's that time of the year."
"Then come for the company."
"Thank you, Barnes," she said, giving him a smile which, for the first time that day, did not quite reach her eyes. "See you around." And with that, she left.
Later, Bucky was sitting in the common living room with an unopened book in his lap and a contemplating expression on his face when gentle footsteps disturbed his thoughts. Shortly after, the book was snatched from him and Natasha settled on the couch, tugging her legs under herself and opening the book.
"Everything starts somewhere, although many physicists disagree," she started and Bucky let her voice wash over him as he settled back into the armchair with a soft smile. "But people have always been dimly aware of the problem with the start of things…"
"This is turning into a habit," Natasha muttered as she came to a sudden halt at the door of the kitchen. Bucky was standing by the counter preparing breakfast and, from the looks of it, he'd been expecting her.
"Good morning," Bucky turned to her. "I was wondering whether you'd get here in time for breakfast, or you start with lunch again."
"Ha-freaking-ha."
"Here, this'll help you cheer up." He offered a mug of steaming liquid which Natasha accepted gratefully.
But no sooner had she tasted it, she exclaimed, "What the hell is this?" She couldn't help the disgusted frown that marred her features as she made an effort not to spit the offending liquid back into the mug.
"It's tea."
"No, it's not," she eyed the mug warily.
"Sure, it is. It's Christmas flavored."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know," Bucky shrugged. "But it came in a nice Christmas-y themed box," he said, producing said box from the cupboard and holding it out to her to see. "Isn't it great? It says it's white tea."
"Tea is supposed to be black and you won't convince me otherwise."
"We have black tea," the man turned back to the cupboard and pulled out another richly decorated box.
"And Russian," Natasha added.
"I hear you," Bucky agreed and, after putting the offending item back in the cupboard, he produced the usual batch Natasha was so fond of. "These are really good."
"So, you are the one who's stealing my stash?"
"Your stash?" He looked back at her bemused as he started to prepare her tea. "I thought Stark's buying all this."
"Fair enough. I might have got used to the others not daring to touch it."
"Too bad I'm not scared of you," he smirked. "Come on, breakfast is ready."
"I see you're getting bolder." During breakfast, Natasha couldn't let the remark go any longer, sitting face to face with Bucky Barnes in an ugly Christmas sweater. "Christmas looks good on you."
"Yeah." He smoothed down the front of his sweater. "I can actually see why reindeers got so popular. They are cute."
"Cute, huh?" Natasha gave him an amused look. "I bet they'd look even cuter with a unicorn horn."
"Funny you say that," Bucky grinned as he reached for something on the chair next to him. "Here." He threw a small package to Natasha.
"What's this?"
"I saw it the other day but I couldn't make any sense of it. It reminds me of you," Bucky explained while Natasha tore the paper from the package. It was a dark red sweater with a reindeer on it. And, of course, it had a unicorn horn.
"You went back to get it for me?" A huge grin split her face as she looked at the man. "Thank you!"
"You're welcome. But you have to put it on."
"Of course." Natasha agreed with a bemused glint in her eyes, then stood and quickly exchanged her dark light sweater to the bright red one. "Better?" she asked, turning around playfully.
"Perfect," Bucky nodded satisfied and stood to clear the table.
"So," he started in a matter-of-fact tone when he was with his back to Natasha, "I was thinking. What about we decorate this place? It's Christmas after all. It shouldn't look this bland."
"Why do I have the feeling that you want to dump everything Christmas on me?" She narrowed her eyes at him accusingly when she stopped by him at the counter, disposing their empty mugs into the sink.
"Maybe," the man shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe I'm just trying to make the best of my first Christmas as… well, me."
Natasha regarded him for a long moment before nodding. "All right. Let's decorate this place."
"Great," Bucky clapped his hands enthusiastically and promptly left the dirty dishes to their own devices, apparently ready to tackle the task at once. He stopped uncertainly, though, when he looked around the large room. "Where do we start?"
Natasha chuckled from her position by the sink. "FRIDAY, where does Tony keep the Christmas decorations for the living quarters?"
Less than an hour later, after having cleaned the dishes and having had the decoration brought over, Bucky found himself standing in the same spot again, looking no less uncertain than an hour before.
"These are all decorations?" he asked, stunned as he opened a box of sparkling ornaments.
"Yup."
"This is crazy. When I was a child, we made paper garlands and popcorn chains."
"Welcome to the 21st century." She poked a huge Santa with a suspicious look in her eyes. When it remained silent, she turned to Bucky. "That and Tony loves doing everything in excess. We don't have to use all of this. We can decorate whatever the way we feel like."
"No, I like it. These are pretty." He eyed a particularly shiny ornament.
Natasha let her eyes linger on his face before speaking up. "All right, let's get to it then."
And get to it they did. It actually took them the whole day to dress the living room and the kitchen into a festive attire but, after copious amount of spiked hot cider and a lunch of leftover roast duck, they stood in the middle of the living room, surveying their handy work.
"We went a little overboard," Bucky observed the room.
"That we did," Natasha agreed. "But you wanted to decorate. We couldn't do a half-assed job, right?" Bucky chuckled at that. "All right, FRIDAY, light it up." And light it, the AI did. "Now, it truly looks like a Christmas elf had puked on the room," she observed satisfied.
"It's beautiful," Bucky said in awe at which Natasha turned to him. Momentarily, she found herself stunned by just what a beautiful man he was, his features made even stunning by his open expression. "Only one thing's missing." He turned to Natasha and she schooled her own features.
"Are you kidding?"
"A tree."
"A tree, of course."
"Come on."
"What? Where?"
"To get a tree."
"Now? And where on Earth do you plan on putting it?"
Rational arguments didn't work with Bucky. He wanted a tree, so they went to get a tree… to the backyard of the Avengers Compound.
It was only after they had dragged a huge tree into the building that they realized they had no ornaments left to decorate it.
"Well," Natasha shrugged, "you missed the paper chains. We can make paper chains and whatever you used to make."
"Really?"
"Of course. I didn't get my ass frozen off for nothing. We will decorate that damn tree if that's the last thing I do."
"I like the attitude."
"That's all you get for now. I'm off to bed. We'll figure out the rest over breakfast."
"So, now we're having breakfast together?"
"As if you've planned otherwise," Natasha dismissed him. "Good night, Barnes."
On the third day, Natasha actually appeared in the kitchen door sporting a bright green dress adorned like a Christmas tree, wearing a smug smile as, this time, it was Bucky who was rendered speechless by her sight.
Good, she thought, two can play the game.
"That's a strange choice of clothing."
"Says the man whose sweater is twinkling."
"It's great, right?"
"Your excitement is astonishing. Where do you get those things anyway?"
"I won't divulge my secrets."
"You do know that I can extract that information from you."
"I highly doubt that."
"Is that a challenge?"
"I'm not that bold," he admitted with a laugh that Natasha answered with a smug smile. "On another note," he quickly changed the subject, "are you ready for our day?"
It gave her a warm fuzzy feeling when he asked it that way. "Of course. Why do you think I dressed up like a Christmas tree? Let's decorate that monstrosity."
"Yes, ma'am."
"But first, give me my tea."
"I can do better than that," Bucky smiled at her. "I made breakfast."
"Of course, you did," she gave him a smile and, on an impulse, patted his cheek before making a beeline to the kitchen island. "You are a sweetheart." From the corner of her eye, she could see the goofy grin on the man's face.
Later, Natasha would blame that stupid smile of his for letting herself be roped into the mess that the kitchen currently was.
"Why haven't we gone out to buy some ornaments again?" she asked, blowing her hair out of her eyes and giving Bucky an exasperated look.
"We agreed to make hand-made ornaments," Bucky explained in a patient tone that didn't make much to conceal the amusement in his voice. Damn that man! He was having entirely too much fun. At her cost.
"Yeah but, at that point, you were talking about paper garlands. How did I end up rolling out cookie dough?"
"You said they would look pretty on the tree," he shrugged, checking the cookies in the oven.
"I was talking about those perfect little pieces someone else had made." She started cutting the cookies in mid-rant. "Google it! They are pretty. These… These are seriously handicapped." If it hadn't been enough that the dough was sticky like hell, the cookies also started to lose their shape.
"They are certainly unique." He stepped behind her to take a look at the cookies. "But we'll put frosting on them. It'll help, you'll see."
"It certainly didn't help." Natasha huffed, standing with crossed arms in front of the counter, the frosted cookies laid out in front of them. "They are hideous."
"You are just as dramatic as Steve," Bucky sighed. "So, they are not perfect. That's so exciting about them."
"That doesn't say much when you get overly excited about everything remotely connected to Christmas," Natasha deadpanned.
"They taste good, too."
"You'd know," she threw him an accusing look. "I'm pretty sure I cut way more than this."
"As I said, they taste good."
"You're insufferable."
"And you are covered in frosting… like really..."
She narrowed her eyes and he was too amused with himself to notice the dangerous glint in them. In the next instant, she jumped on him, hooking her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, making sure that she could transfer as much frosting from her ruined clothes as possible. For good measure, she also buried her sticky hands into his hair.
Bucky stepped back in surprise but it was too late, Natasha was latched onto him and it didn't even matter that he had thrown up his arms in protest. When she reached behind him to the bowel of frosting on the counter, scooping up a handful of the remaining goo, and started deliberately wiping her hands on his shirt, he started to laugh and brought his arms around her waist.
"What the hell are you doing, woman?" he squealed with closed eyes when her hands found his face.
Natasha laughed with him but her laughter abruptly died away when she realized that her hands were not wiping the goo on his face anymore but caressing the lines of his scrunched-up face.
At her sudden silence, Bucky opened his eyes and he must have recognized the look on her face as his arms slackened around her and, making use of the opportunity provided, Natasha let go of him. They stepped apart as if they had been caught by their parents stealing cookies from the cookie jar.
Natasha cleared her throat to break the stretching silence and added, avoiding his searching eyes, "And now you are covered, too."
"Yeah," came the raspy reply, "thanks for that."
And there was that silence again.
It was getting really ridiculous when, suddenly, Bucky's stomach began to rumble, reminding them that they had skipped lunch. The tension broke as they chuckled, their eyes meeting at last.
"So," Bucky started, "I was thinking. We should order in."
"Excellent idea."
"You're anything in the mood for?" Bucky asked and Natasha found herself running her eyes over him. Damn, what was wrong with her? If Bucky noticed it, he didn't make any mention of it.
"Roast duck," Natasha croaked, shaking her head ever so slightly, trying to focus. "I could do with some roast duck."
Bucky laughed. "A woman after my own heart. Go, get cleaned up. I'll take care of the food."
Lunch turned out to be surprisingly tension free. At least the tension that was, wasn't uncomfortable. They talked and laughed like in the previous days but there were decidedly more flirting. Natasha tried to ignore what had happened earlier but Bucky seemed bolder in his advances ever since. It made Natasha feel giddy. It was nice, actually. What was her problem?
Making paper garlands and popcorn chains turned out to be less demanding than baking gingerbread and Natasha was actually satisfied with the result. Although it was no small feat to decorate the huge tree they had acquired the day before, they had actually managed to manufacture enough ornament to fill the tree.
"I'm beat." It was late in the afternoon by the time Natasha had fallen back on the couch with a groan and regarded the newly decorated tree with critical eyes. "Wow, it really is ugly," she remarked in a bemused tone.
"Well," Bucky sat down next to her, close enough for their shoulders to touch when he leant back as well, "there is room for improvement, that's for sure. I think it's the gingerbread cookies. They are…"
"Atrocious," Natasha supplied.
"Yeah. But say what you want, we made it. And there is beauty in that."
"You're right. It's unique. I like unique." She let herself regard him from the corner of her eye. "So, what overly Christmas-y activity do you want to force on me now?"
"What about a movie night? That's what they call it, right? There must be a bunch of Christmas movies I have to get caught up on."
"Yes, it is. And you have no idea. But no Hallmark movies. I draw the line there."
"Okay," Bucky drawled, obviously having no idea what Natasha was referring to. "I tell you what. I'll go and make some sandwiches and you can choose the first movie."
"You are spoiling me. Deal."
They started with Home Alone, of course. Then Natasha was gracious enough to let Bucky choose. So, they ended up watching Christmas in Connecticut. It seemed the man was intent on catching up from the very start. Then came Home Alone 2 because Natasha couldn't let it go, insisting that there was no Christmas without either of the movies. Then Bucky went with It Happened on Fifth Avenue and Natasha had to admit that there was a certain charm to the old black and white films. Nevertheless, she made Bucky watch Die Hard after that.
"This was actually good," Bucky concluded when the credits started to roll. "Don't really understand why you insist on it being a Christmas movie but it was good."
"It has Christmas music and Santa hats in it. Not to mention Bruce Willis in a tank top. What more do you want?"
"All those things do not make a Christmas movie."
"Please, enlighten me, Mr. Pre-World-War-II-Motion-Picture, what makes a Christmas movie?"
"It has love, family and holiday cheer bundled up in a plot of misunderstandings, character development and the recognition that it is the people in our lives that matter."
"How romantic of you!" Natasha gushed. "But I just threw up a little in my mouth."
"Of course, you did," Bucky laughed not at all offended. "You enjoyed a kid beating up two grown men on Christmas Eve. Twice. I love a good romance. I'm just old-fashioned that way."
"Tell me about your Christmases back before the war." Natasha turned to him genuinely curious.
"Well, they were not as eventful as the films." They chuckled. "At least not for me. If you had asked my mom, she would have told another story." There was a fond smile on his face as he remembered Christmases past. "We were pretty well off considering. I mean we always had food on the table and warm clothes in the winter. We lived in a small apartment, though, and we have no kitchen just a cooker on the landing. And no running water, of course. But every year, my parents made it work. My mother was an excellent cook. Those Christmas dinners…
"I remember that as soon as I was old enough, I was sent to get the turkey on the 24th. It was fun. I always dragged Steve with me. I swear the 24th was the busiest day of the year in those days. Usually, people couldn't afford to save up for the holidays, so they had to make do with the money they earned right before. Of course, it meant that it was the day before Christmas when people went out to do the necessary shopping. Everybody was so excited. Steve and I could spend hours loitering around the butcher's, trying to figure out who were the crafty ones waiting for Mr. Browning to lower the prices. He always saved a nice bird for us.
"It was definitely different back then. Today, it seems that everything is about spending in excess. Back then, you only bought what was necessary, and being able to afford a nice Christmas dinner was a gift in itself. For two days, it was a holiday indeed. Mom, having prepared enough food in advance had a little time to rest. And dad was also home for the holidays. You always found fun ways to spend the time and it was enough."
"It sounds nice."
"This is nice, too."
"No Christmas sweater this morning?" was the first thing Natasha asked when she walked into the kitchen the next morning, the day of Christmas Eve, finding Bucky clearing the table to set it for breakfast, wearing a simple long-sleeved top.
"Good morning to you, too," he smiled, putting a large box on the floor. "And I have a tank top under. As I learnt yesterday, it is Christmas-y enough."
"You are hilarious," Natasha observed unimpressed. "What are those?" She eyed the two boxes that had just been put away from the table.
"Well, I saw it on the internet the other day," Natasha muttered a silent 'Oh, God' under her breath, fearing in advance what idiocy Bucky might have found on the internet, "that they call these sweaters 'ugly Christmas sweater' and, for whatever reason, the uglier, the better. I saw a bunch of videos which tell people how to makes these at home." He concluded and regarded her expectantly with an excited glint in his eyes. Oh.
"You want us to make our own ugly Christmas sweater?"
"It sounds fun, right?" And he looked so darn adorable.
"Right," Natasha drawled. It wasn't that bad. "Oh, what the hell." She threw up her hands. "Let's get crazy. But if we are doing this, we are wearing them for the office dinner."
"Deal."
"But you know the drill," she stopped him when he reached for the boxes. "Breakfast first."
"Oh, right." He looked somewhat crestfallen at the delay but it seemed that he liked feeding her, so it was promptly forgotten.
"Where did you get all this stuff?" Natasha asked later as they went through the content of the boxes.
"I called Acquisitions and Cynthia was kind enough to provide everything we might need."
"Cynthia, huh? I bet it was difficult to convince her to help," she muttered.
"Oh, no, it wasn't difficult at all. I'm told that I have a certain charm."
"Yeah, right." Natasha scoffed as she pretended to examine a glue gun.
"She got really excited about the idea and assured me that we'll find everything here we might need."
"How nice of her."
"And I promised her that I'd thank her in person at the dinner party." Was he pressing her buttons on purpose?
"All right, I've heard enough of your charm for one day. Get to work."
"Remember, the uglier, the better."
They spent the rest of the morning in companionable silence, both of them concentrating on their respective project. Once or twice, Natasha tried to steal a glance at Bucky's work but he wouldn't let her. All she knew was that he used an incredible amount of garland and ornaments of the shimmery kind. He obviously liked them.
"That's very original of you," Natasha eyed Bucky's sweater that suspiciously looked like her dress from the previous day.
"What? I liked your dress." Natasha quirked an eyebrow. "I mean I like the concept of it. And I actually improved on it. You see, you had those fluffy things as ornaments. I have actual ornaments. And lights. And anyway, you put a freaking fireplace on your sweater!"
"That I did," Natasha grinned proudly.
"Wait! Is that…?"
"Santa's ass. He's coming down the chimney."
That afternoon, they actually went to the office dinner wearing their hand-made sweaters and, to their surprise, they weren't the odd ones out. The assortment of the various ugly sweaters was astonishing. It was quite an enjoyable evening, even though they didn't really know anybody in the crowd that decided to celebrate at the Compound. They ran into Rhodey at one point but he was too distracted to lead a normal conversation with them. They saw him leave with Maria Hill not much later. They also chatted with a couple of familiar faces from the Science Department and Administration or, more precisely, they let the other guys chat to them while they mostly nodded and smiled at the appropriate places while sipping their Christmas punch. All in all, it was a nice evening.
"Look at that! It snowed," Bucky exclaimed as they left the dinner later that evening.
"How cliché."
"Come on," he smiled at her, offering his hand for her to take. Natasha took it without hesitation and they started their slow progress through the freshly fallen snow. Maintenance would have a lot of work till morning.
"It was nice, wasn't it?" Bucky asked, surprising Natasha. He wasn't a social butterfly, after all.
"It was certainly a refreshing break from Tony's extravagant parties."
"And Cynthia turned out to be a real sweetheart."
"Yeah. The sweet, grandmotherly type," Natasha agreed and Bucky grinned at her.
"Feeling relieved?" he asked, teasing her about her earlier comments about the woman. Natasha did not answer him. She squeezed his hand, though, as they trudged through the snow.
When they reached the living quarters of the Avengers, Natasha made a beeline to the kitchen to make some tea. She didn't feel like turning in just yet and, fortunately, it seemed that her companion was of the same mind.
She was waiting for the water to boil when she heard soft piano music drifting from the living room. She looked towards the sound and smiled when she saw Bucky sitting by the piano. The tunes of "I Saw Three Ships" melted into ones Natasha didn't recognize while she took her time to prepare the tea. When the two mugs of steaming liquid were ready, she silently walked up to the piano, depositing the mugs on the nearby coffee table. She perched against the instrument, watching the man play.
As the festive music washed over her, she realized that she was at peace. Her shoulders were relaxed, not feeling the need to be at the ready, and her mind was not preoccupied with various scenarios of the possible outcome of the present situation. She was simply in the moment, enjoying the music and the company and, suddenly, when Bucky's eyes met hers, she found herself infinitely grateful that she was allowed to experience that moment with him.
Not taking her eyes off of him, she joined him on the bench, letting herself get lost in the music.
It was only after a while that Bucky's fingers stopped over the keys and silence filled the large room. It was even later that Natasha realized that her eyes were closed. She opened them to meet Bucky's searching gaze.
"I didn't know you played," she started in a husky tone, for lack of anything better to say.
"My mother taught me. She could never make the girls sit down to learn it but I really enjoyed it. And she just loved when I played."
"I loved it, too," she admitted, sounding uncharacteristically shy.
"I mean I'm not the best pla…"
"You don't have to be." Natasha hastened to add. "You just have to be you."
Bucky regarded her intently, the atmosphere suddenly changing. It'd just got personal in a matter of seconds. She wondered how expressive his eyes could be.
"Is it enough, though?" he almost whispered the question, self-doubt shadowing his handsome features. Natasha knew the feeling. The feeling of inadequacy, not on a professional but on a very personal level. The struggle to find who she was and accept it. It took years and a bunch of good – stubborn as a mule – friends to accept that she was indeed enough.
"It's enough for those who matter," she whispered. "It's certainly enough for me," she admitted quietly. "As someone really dear to me once said, to paraphrase it, no gingerbread man has to be perfect, it's what's so exciting about it." On an impulse, he leant forwards but almost instantly he stopped himself. Natasha could see the torn look in his eyes. He wanted to kiss her but he didn't want to push her. After all, she had been unreasonably jumpy about being near to him just a day before.
She kissed him.
He was tentative, almost infuriatingly so, but after they had pulled apart, he'd given her only a second before he all but grabbed her and pulled her into a deep kiss. There was nothing tentative about that. Natasha groaned and, as an answer, Bucky pulled her into his lap, letting her legs straddle him. Natasha wanted to get lost in that kiss. Still, between all the groping and pressing, she suddenly heard a silent crash and the recognition of the source of the sound made her giggle into the kiss.
"What?" Bucky looked at her with a confused expression.
"Your ornaments are poking me." She giggled again, which turned into a throaty groan as Bucky grabbed her hips firmly and thrust against her. "Among other things," she breathed, her head falling on his shoulder. "Keep that up, soldier."
"It's up all right," he grinned and Natasha groaned, this time exasperated.
Between them, they did quick work of getting rid of Bucky's distracting sweater which left him in a white tank top. Natasha eyed him with evident lust in her eyes.
"Merry Christmas to me!" She grinned before Bucky wiped it from her face with a kiss.
Suddenly, she was lifted again and she landed on the piano keys with a cacophony of sounds and Bucky's hands were working wonders on her legs, her hips moving with her quickly rising need. Bucky noticed that and hoisted her on top of the piano, reaching for the button and the zipper on her pants as he shimmied forward on the bench and pressed his cheek against her inner thigh. Leaning back on the flat surface, she found purchase on the keys with her legs and, with a quick lift of her hips, her pants were pulled down to her knees and her legs fell limp once again. Bucky's face was against her center in an instant and she shuddered when she heard him took a deep breath. His hands were playing on her thighs, slowly sneaking up to the hem of her panties, and only the soft pressure of his nose against her core was enough to make her squirm when, suddenly, Bucky sat up straight with a frown on his face.
"What?" she asked breathless, looking at him confused and feeling every bit as disheveled as she must have been looking.
"Your Santa's ass is in my face," he stated simply, obviously working really hard not to laugh out.
"Oh, that fucking Santa's fucking ass…" she muttered and all but tore the sweater off of herself and, when Bucky opened his mouth to say something, she held up a finger. "Shut it!"
He laughed then, standing up and helping her down from the piano to Natasha's stunned disbelief and no slight disappointment. He helped her pull her pants up and gave her a loving smile when all Natasha did was to blink at him. "Come on," he pecked her nose, "it's time to take it somewhere else."
"Oh,' Natasha answered, congratulating herself on her eloquence and let herself be led to Bucky's room.
Natasha sighed contently as wakefulness slowly claimed her. It was a strange feeling, the warmness that surrounded her. She smiled as the events of the previous day came back to her and felt for the hand resting on her belly. James' metal arm was warm under the covers as he pressed her against his front. She had hazy memories of him covering her whenever she moved, making sure she stayed warm.
She turned around and looked at the sleeping face of the man. Adoration filled her chest as she watched the man sleeping peacefully next to her. She was in awe of him. After a life of violence and pain, after decades of not knowing who he was, he managed to remain a gentle, warm-hearted man. She still couldn't understand why he even bothered with her but, selfishly, she found it irrelevant. Just being with him, she felt a better person herself.
Everything he gave, every smile he coaxed out of her made her a better person.
She was smart enough to realize that nothing he had done in the last couple of days was about him. It was all about her.
They might have pretended that their silly Christmas game was just for fun but, in reality, it was him telling her that he cared.
It was time for her to tell him that she cared, too.
Careful not to wake the sleeping man, she got out of bed and dressed before grabbing her phone and leaving the room. She had already pressed the call button by the time she closed the door and her call was quickly answered.
"Steve," she began without any preamble, "I need your help."
A couple of hours later, Bucky padded into the kitchen barefoot, wearing sweatpants and a white tee. Natasha was busy stuffing a large turkey and swearing profoundly, so she hadn't noticed him until he called her name.
"So... No duck today?" From the expression on his face, Natasha was sure that it was not the question he'd wanted to ask but she had successfully stunned him. She straightened and tried to wipe her hair from her eyes with her forearm. She was pretty sure that she'd managed to get some stuffing into her hair with that attempt.
"No duck today." She smiled. "We are having roast turkey with cranberry stuffing."
"With cranberry stuffing," he echoed, and, suddenly, she felt nervous.
"Yes."
"That's what my mom always made."
"Yes."
Bucky took a good look around the kitchen after that, before fixing his eyes on her. "You're making my mom's traditional Christmas menu."
"I hope you don't mind."
He was in front of her in an instant and Natasha found herself pressed against his firm chest. "Thank you," he murmured into her neck.
"Don't thank me yet," she countered with a broken chuckle, overwhelmed by his response. "I'm a terrible cook."
"You are wonderful," he told her sincerely when he let her go to look in the eyes, then promptly pressed his lips against hers. Natasha had no reason to complain.
"Good morning," she whispered when they parted.
"Good morning." He pressed a kiss on her forehead.
"Coffee?"
"Please," he said, letting her go, then he took another look around the kitchen. "I get that you probably forced all this information out of Steve…"
"Oh, believe me, I didn't have to force anything," Natasha scoffed bemused. "He didn't want to shut up about your mom's Christmas dinners. I practically had to hang upon him to make him shut up."
Bucky laughed at that. "Punk's always got overexcited about food. For being so small, he could eat like a horse. Did he mention my mom's secret ingredient of the cranberry sauce?"
"The rum?" she asked in the middle of pouring a generous amount of the liquid into her own coffee. "Oh, yes. It's ingenious!"
"Yeah, but you're aware that you have to put the rum into the sauce, right?"
"Oh, shut up." She pressed his mug into his hands and took a long sip from hers. "Your mom went all out for Christmas, right?"
"You have no idea." Bucky scoffed into his coffee. "Where did you get all this stuff anyway?"
"Well, you have Cynthia, I have… other sources."
"Stark." Bucky concluded.
"Gosh, no. I went on a rent to him why I don't want him to have the living room decorated. I wasn't about to let him know that I went and jumped the bandwagon."
Bucky nodded in understanding. "Pepper then."
"That woman can get anything at any time," Natasha agreed.
"Thank you," Bucky repeated. "So, how can I help?"
Their second adventure into the field of culinary arts turned out to be more of a success than the one two days ago, and, a couple of hours later, Natasha sent Bucky on his way with a small kiss on his lips. "Go, change. Lunch is ready in 30."
"Change?" Bucky cocked an eyebrow.
"Yes." Natasha set him into the direction of the door, giving him a small push for good measure. "And don't you dare come back in one those sweaters of yours. I want you in your Sunday best."
"My Sunday best?" Bucky turned back with a bemused look. "Yesterday, a white tank was enough to do the trick..."
"Get out of here," she warned with a wooden spoon which only made Bucky laugh merrily.
They managed to make a late lunch and Natasha enjoyed every second of it. Just to see James so happy and carefree was worth all the efforts. And she suspected she looked just the same. It was gratifying to see that such a small act of kindness like making dinner, made someone so happy. Just like his small gestures to bring Christmas into her life made her happy.
"Come." Natasha stood when Bucky had cleared up the remains of his pumpkin pudding, offering her hand for him. He took it with a curious look and let her lead him to the Christmas tree. Their Christmas tree. She loved it. It was perfect. There was a box perfectly wrapped under it and she, letting his hand go, picked it up and turned to him. "It's for you. Open it."
In his surprise, Bucky did as he'd been told and, when the wrapping paper fell to the ground, he looked at Natasha.
"A Marx electrical train set." It was almost a question as he looked at the old box in awe. There was some boyish charm on his face as joy made his eyes shine while he turned his attention to her. But suddenly something clouded his look of sincere merriment. "I have nothing to give you."
"You've given me more than I could have ever hoped for."
"I did make you scream," he shrugged with a smug smirk, turning playful in an instant.
"Pig," she admonished him but laughed all the same. "What I meant was that everything you did for me this Christmas… this Christmas game of yours… celebrating with me… wanting to spend time with me… it meant the world to me. So, thank you."
"You are going all mushy on me, Tasha."
"You've been nauseatingly mushy in the last couple of days, so don't you dare complain about that."
"I wouldn't dream of it." He pulled her close and Natasha snaked her arms around him. "It meant a lot to me, too, that you didn't knock me on the head at any given point. I went slightly overboard." He winced and Natasha raised a bemused eyebrow at him. "It was fun, though, right?"
"It was," she agreed, pecking his lips. "Now, let's set up that train set. I'm dying to know what's so special about it that twelve years old Bucky Barnes wanted it so much."
They did quick work of setting up the train set, all the while Bucky making plans of building a whole town around the railway. Natasha enjoyed every minute of it.
When all was set, Bucky went to get them some wine and Natasha found herself standing by the large windows, watching to snow gently falling.
"It's so beautiful," Natasha said as Bucky brought his arms around her from behind. He hummed in appreciation as she melted into his embrace.
"Good thing we don't have to go outside. Dance with me," he asked, already gently swaying to the music in the background. Natasha turned in his arms and they started their slow movements. She wanted to stay in that moment forever, she thought as she laid her head against his chest. It was how peace felt like.
"It's not a game anymore, is it?" Bucky asked after a while in a low voice, whispered into her hair.
Natasha slowly raised her head and looked at him.
"I hope it's not," she croaked and an easy smile lit up the man's face.
"Merry Christmas, Tasha."
"Merry Christmas, James."
THE END
Thanks for reading! And sorry for the mistakes.
The book they were reading on the first days is Terry Pratchett's Hogfather.