For @kittybrownjs for winning the RelenaFanel Holiday Giveaway. Turns out their fav fic is The Steve Rogers Problem universe, so here’s a story about Bucky Barnes meeting Steve Rogers at Christmas.
Bucky moved through the crush of people easily, twisting his body as he rounded the corner with an ease that spoke of familiarity. His mind kept his goal at the forefront as his attention remained on the people around them, attempting to avoid anyone who looked like they might be too happy to see him. He’d promised his mother he’d stay downstairs for at least an hour, and he’d promised his sister he wouldn’t fuck anyone this year. He was twenty minutes in and he’d already had to shake three hands, avoid a cheek pinching from an aunt, avoid an other-cheek pinching from someone he went to high school with, and drank two glasses of heavily rummed eggnog.
He was already getting a headache from the noise and the lights and the idea he was trapped for another 40 minutes. Bucky Barnes. Could survive a fire fight. Can’t survive a Christmas Party.
Bucky closed the door to the bedroom behind himself firmly, his heart beating wildly at the near miss of his mother’s disapproving eye. Bucky didn’t have a problem with being social. He was an extrovert. He had a problem with being in a house full of people who had expectations from him. Bucky Barnes, the perfect Brooklyn son, disappointing everyone by moving to DC to work with the FBI and rarely visiting. It made him itchy.
He looked up and met the startled eyes of someone sitting on his bed, holding a white sweater and a towel.
Bucky blinked and more of the picture became clear, from the red stain on the cloth to the damp front of the man’s white undershirt. “Oh. Hello.” He greeted with a smile. Apparently he was breaking his promise to both his mother and his sister tonight.
“Hi,” the man said in confusion, a pinched expression around his eyes.
“I’m Bucky. I don’t think we’ve met.” He smiled charmingly and the man’s expression tightened.
“We went to school together.”
Bucky didn’t think so. His memory might be shit but he was sure he would have already tried to get into this man’s pants if that was the case.
It was a big school, he couldn’t remember everyone. He wasn’t even sure he remembered everyone he had sex with, except for the fact most of them constantly tried to remind him. “I’m sorry.”
His apology was brushed aside with a gesture. “I moved away when we were young. Steve. Rogers.”
“Nice to meet ya, Steve,” Bucky said, leaning against his dresser. The room didn’t feel as small and closed in with someone to talk to. It made Bucky feel less trapped. “Some party.”
Steve did this thing with his eyebrows that both judged Bucky and looked right through him. “And yet you’re hiding in your bedroom.”
“Well we all can’t spill wine on ourselves,” Bucky answered in a cheerful tone, leaning over into the dresser and pulling it open. “Here,” he said, tossing over a cashmere pullover sweater. “It’s not as festive as your snowflake pattern but it’s less likely to have the Seymour sisters run their hands over your chest.”
“Thanks,” Steve said, and his mouth softened. He stood and peeled off his undershirt, tugging Bucky’s pullover on over his head. Bucky watched with interest because he hadn’t seen abs like that outside of a gay bar or the gym in a while. Seemed like promising prospects.
“It’s not a problem,” Bucky said, and then he opened his mouth to make an indecent offer—
Only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. Bucky felt the absurd urge to hide. Or make Steve hide. He was twenty-eight years old for fucksakes. He had a full-time job. He wasn’t a teenager living at home anymore, except for the part where he would forever be a teenager when he was in this room with his old trophies and posters.
“Bucky are you in there?” his sister asked, and then turned the knob, barging in on both of them. “Oh,” she said, her eyes wide as she saw Steve. She seemed to shudder into a stillness he rarely saw from her.
Steve looked back at her with a mild expression.
“Sorry,” she said, not taking her eyes away from Steve. “I should have knocked. Mom wants you but I can say you’re busy.”
It took Bucky a moment to realize she was talking to him it was so solicitous. What the hell? Becca had never offered to cover for him in her life. It made him look at Steve and wonder what was happening.
“Bucky was just loaning me something to wear,” Steve said, and he looked a little bashful. “I had a little incident with some wine.” He started towards the door. “Thanks, Bucky,” he said with one last look behind him before disappearing down the hallway and back towards the party.
“What was that?” Bucky demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Oh my god, Bucky,” Becca said with almost a squeal in her tone as she grabbed his arm. “Steve Rogers is so into you. You’ve gotta fuck him. Do it for me.”
Bucky wasn’t left speechless very often, especially by his sister.
“God, you’re so oblivious about some things. Everyone here has been talking about him actually coming. He’s a famous actor?” she prompted. “Grew up here? He came to your birthday party when we were kids?”
Absolutely none of that rang a bell. “He didn’t seem that into me.”
“Oh my god,” Becca replied and then left the room.
If there was one thing that would fully guarantee Bucky wasn’t about to sleep with someone, it was for his sister to give him permission.
Still, when a hot guy grabbed him by the hand as he was returning to the party and dragged him into privacy, Bucky made a quick decision. “This is Becca’s room,” he said as Steve got to his knees in front of him.
“Thank you for loaning me the shirt,” Steve answered, more or less ignoring Bucky’s half-hearted protest. “I wasn’t going to do this,” he said conversationally. “But it’s Christmas and I’ve always wanted to know.”
“What?” Bucky asked, though he had enough facts to put it together. He was started to get aroused by Steve nuzzling his cock through his boxers, the slow drag of his mouth and the warmth of his breath. Steve’s hands were sure as he pulled the material down so Bucky sprang free.
He probably couldn’t get too insulted by the implication he was easy, since he was.
“What you’re like,” Steve answered before taking Bucky into his mouth. The strokes of his tongue altered between firm and wet, and light teases, until Bucky was fully hard, and then Steve sucked him deep into his throat, clearly experienced at this and working Bucky over with all that skill. When Bucky’s hips stuttered, Steve encouraged him not to hold back in thrusting, and it was wet and hot and dirty and thrilling until Bucky came deep down Steve’s throat.
Steve got to his feet in a fluid motion as Bucky grasped the corner of the desk, completely worked over. “Merry Christmas to me,” he said in a wrecked tone, licking his lips and then leaning in for a quick kiss, more of a press of lips than anything with finess. He left Bucky there with weak knees and an exposed, softening cock.
He might be in love.
Steve was talking to Bucky’s tenth grade math teacher, a man whose name Bucky couldn’t remember but who had lived at the end of the block his entire life. Steve seemed completely unconcerned that his mouth was reddened with almost an illusion of still being spit-slick, and his hair still had rivets from Bucky’s fingers.
Of course maybe it wasn’t that bad, Bucky was just painfully aware of where it was from. As though he knew what Bucky was thinking, Steve seemed completely unconcerned by not looking over to check where Bucky was, like someone who didn’t care he’d just swallowed his come. Bucky was almost offended.
Becca walked into the room carrying a plate of cheese, her eyes widening as she saw Steve and then immediately meeting Bucky’s. Wow, she mouthed, and retreated back into the kitchen.
"So," Becca said, sidling up next to Bucky as he watched Steve slip on his coat amid protests from everyone from Bucky's dad (a shock) to his next door neighbor (not a shock). It was a shame Steve was leaving. They probably could have had fun if he stuck around long enough that Bucky's mom stopped watching him like a hawk. It was infuriating. "What happened between you and Captain America?"
Bucky squinted at her in confusion.
"Steve Rogers," she filled in impatiently. "He was looking thoroughly something an hour ago, you asshole, and you don't look bothered in the least bit, so maybe now that he's experienced the Bucky Barnes charming wham-bam-cool-as-jam he'll be free to move on. Maybe to me?"
"Are you asking me if I'm done with him?" Bucky questioned incredulously. "First off, gross. You can't be done with a person."
"Your words, not mine."
"Second, when have you EVER been ok with going after someone after me?"
"It's Steve Rogers," she said like that meant something big. "I'm just saying I call dibs. His first choice might be you, but you're a shitty first choice and once he realizes that, I volunteer to clean up the mess. You owe me that much after all the times I've had to tell someone it's not them, it's you. So...?"
"I'm not done with him," Bucky said, frowning. "We didn't even. There wasn't... No. Back off."
Becca hid what looked like a suspiciously smug smile behind a mug of liberally spiked hot chocolate. Bucky could smell the booze from a foot away."Looks like he's already left. You have his number, right?"
Bucky couldn't find his fucking shoes. He felt like he was being judged by Becca as he stared at all the guests’ winter footwear and couldn’t find his own. Bucky held up his middle finger at her and stripped off his socks before reaching for the doorknob.
“Wait,” Bucky said, running down the front stairs barefoot. Steve turned towards him and looked surprised. “Do you want to get something to eat?”
Steve checked him out, from his face down to his toes. “I don’t think you’re dressed for it.”
“I can go put on shoes,” Bucky pointed out, crossing his arms and then figuring if he was trying to ask someone out he shouldn’t sound confrontational. “I figure maybe I could reciprocate?”
“It was a gift. To myself.” Steve squinted at him. “Without a need for reciprocation. Don’t let it wound your ego, I was curious. I’m the one your sister should be berating.”
“She wasn’t berating me, she was threatening to seduce you next. I’m not really--” Bucky shrugged, giving Steve a helpless gesture with his palms facing up. “—insulted? You can suck whosever cock you want out of curiosity. Clearly you’re good at it so you must be a curious dude. What I mean is I guess I share your curious spirit, so let me treat you to supper?”
“You’re asking me to supper?” Steve looked incredulous, which told Bucky that he might have moved out of the neighborhood but he definitely heard the stories. “Is it a Holiday Miracle?”
Yeah, he heard the stories.
“It’s not a fucking Hallmark movie,” Bucky retorted, getting a bit cranky. He shifted his toes on the cold ground. It had started snowing in the last hour. He should just have let his socks get wet. The real miracle was clearly Bucky being in Brooklyn in the first place. “I’m sure there’s more you can gift yourself. Be selfish, Steve. It’s Christmas.”
“Ok,” Steve agreed.