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By the time he stops to take a look around, Steve can barely see a foot in front of him. Now that he’s paying attention, it’s clear all of the shops and restaurants are closed down for the night. Most of the festive twinkling lights are flickering off as well. His hand is stiff when he reaches into his pocket to retrieve his phone. It shows that it’s 11:57 p.m. There’s a low battery message on the screen when he gets his numb fingers working enough to unlock it. He clears that away and a few notifications for messages from Sam and Tony appear, but Steve doesn’t feel like responding to either of them right now. He just needs a map to figure out where he is and how to get home. A loading error message pops up proclaiming no service instead.
He looks up from the device, hoping to see anything that could help. He’s not even sure which direction he’s facing. Steve spins, wondering if it would be smarter to go back or push forward to look for shelter. He’s always been really good at finding abandoned buildings. He keeps moving forward; there looks to be an alley just up from where he’s standing. Steve pockets his phone once again and forces his way through the snow.
When he makes it to the alley, he looks around again and thinks he can see a neon light in the distance. Neon usually indicates open… Relief floods his system.
He’s three feet from the door when the neon light flickers to dark. Steve practically throws himself at the door, and the wind bangs it open in front of him. He grabs at the handle, spins, and uses a surprising amount of strength to get it to shut again. He’s breathing hard by the time he’s able to lean against the door, taking a second to allow the heat of the building to seep into him. He can feel the way his body begins to shiver, annoyed that he can do nothing to stop it.
“I’m actually closing up, buddy,” a voice says from behind him. He sighs, his head thuds against the door at the thought of going back out into the storm. “I’m sorry, but I really have to get home.”
“Alright. I get it,” Steve responds, his back still toward the other man. “You were the only place still open, and I’m not even sure I know where I am.”
“Brooklyn.”
That flat response is enough to get Steve to turn around so the man can see him roll his eyes. The other man’s gasp derails him.
“Holy shit. You’re Captain America.” Steve isn’t surprised he’s been recognized. He’d left his apartment in a hurry and didn’t bother to half-ass a disguise. “Captain America is in my shop. Holy shit.”
“Hi,” He says as he takes in the other man’s appearance. He is the epitome of “Brooklyn hipster” between the man-bun, undercut, facial hair, and hint of tattoos at the edge of his long sleeves and collar. Steve’s mouth is a little dry.
“What are you doing here? You’re wearing khakis, not your exceptionally form-fitting costume—”
“It is not a costume.”
“Isn’t it though?”
“No.”
“Fine, you’re not in your exceptionally form-fitting ‘super suit’, so you can’t have been on a mission. Not that I haven’t fantasized about you showing up here, at night, while I’m all alone,” he pauses to look Steve up and down.
“Oh?” Steve raises his eyebrow and grins, but the man waved him off.
“Sure, but Captain America actually being here is a little worrisome.” He gestures around to his shop as he speaks. Steve looks around, taking in the colorful art covering the walls, the light desk in the corner, and the bed-like tables set up. Steve realizes then, that he’s found a tattoo shop to take shelter in. Above the man’s head is “White Wolf Ink” written in curled neon lights.
“You were the only place still open,” Steve repeats himself. “I was out for a walk.”
“In the middle of a snow storm? In fucking khaki pants?”
“It was only lightly snowing when I left home.”
“Meaning you’ve just been walking all around Brooklyn for roughly five hours?”
“I guess?”
“Damn. You look frozen—shit, that was probably super insensitive. It’s just that you were out in a snowstorm…for hours, so you must be really cold? So…flip that lock and follow me?”
“I can go. You need to get home. I just need to know where I am.”
“No way. No way am I taking on the responsibility of Captain America potentially dying in a snowstorm because I was being a dick.”
“Just pretend I’m not Captain America. I can find my way home.”
“You live over in Cobble Hill, yeah? Sorry, that’s probably really creepy...that I know where you live. It was just, like, a big deal that you were moving back to Brooklyn...to almost the same place you grew up, ya know? A lot of people were talking about it. And in this line of work, you have to listen, not that it was difficult to hear people talk about you. But it’s one thing to talk about like the hero that’s saving the city, and another thing to gossip about the guy behind the mask. So, yeah, I can’t in good conscience tell you to go back out there.”
“I can handle a little snow.”
“Yeah, but you don’t need to. Don’t forget to lock the door,” he says before turning away from Steve to head to the back of the shop.
Steve isn’t sure what to say or do in response. He doesn’t really want to go back outside. There has only ever been one person in his life since he first became Captain America that’s spoken to him like that, and she doesn’t even remember him most of the time. Plus the man didn’t specify where in Brooklyn they are. It’s not much of a decision when he turns the deadbolt and crosses the shop. The man is just getting to the top of a narrow staircase when Steve catches up to him.
“Um...so, please excuse the mess. I wasn’t expecting company and had plans to clean tomorrow since the shop will be closed for Christmas Eve. Also, Gus hasn’t come down at all today, so I have no idea what shape he’s left it.”
“That’s fine…” Steve manages to get out before the man spins back to open the door. He steps inside and gets a light on, but before Steve can step through behind him, there’s a dog skittering on the hardwood towards them. It practically launches itself into the man, pushing him right into Steve.
“Hi baby, yes, I missed you too,” the other man says as he bends his face down to receive kisses from the pit bull, seemingly unaware of the way his body is pressed against Steve’s. “Okay, down Gus, good boy.” He pulls away from Steve with a shudder. “Fuck, you really are freezing. You need to get out of those wet clothes.” He moves across the apartment before disappearing behind a door.
Gus jumps up against Steve’s legs as soon as his owner moves away, and Steve can’t help but lean down to say hello. Steve’s still fully clothed when the man returns with a stack of folded fabric.
“Gus, give him space. You’re dripping on my floor.”
“So sorry.” He exaggeratedly removes his jacket and starts undoing his pants.
“Oh my god! There is a perfectly good bathroom right there,” the man pushes the stack into Steve’s chest. “These are fleece-lined, should warm you back up. Though you seem to be running a little hot right now.”
“Thanks,” Steve responds with a grin.
The man rolls his eyes before moving to the kitchenette.
Steve changes quickly and returns to find the man’s pulled out all the ingredients for what looks to be hot chocolate and sandwiches.
“Got any allergies? Probably not, right? With the serum and everything?”
“Um...no. Not that I’ve experienced anyway…”
“I figured you hadn’t stopped for dinner during your traipse around the city,” the man says over his shoulder. Steve’s stomach growls in response.
He thanks him as he looks around the apartment, taking in the medium size Christmas tree covered in multicolor lights and overflowing shelves filled with books and knickknacks. The living area takes up the majority of the open room, a couch and three chairs—one of which is set apart beside a reading lamp. There’s a small dining table pushed up against the wall close to the kitchen, but it’s covered in mail, books, and drafting notepads. Steve loves how lived-in the place feels, but isn’t sure what to do with himself.
“Do you mind?” Steve asks, pointing to one of the two dining room chairs that looks like it has less on it.
“Of course not! Sorry.”
“Don’t be. You weren’t expecting some random guy to show up and come home with you.” He moves a few things so the seat of the chair clears enough for him to sit down. As soon as he does, Gus is right back in his face.
“A random guy in my apartment is always a possibility; Captain America? Not so much.”
“How about tonight, I’m just Random Guy Steve?” He knows his tone is a little suggestive, but doesn’t think he’s reading the situation incorrectly.
“Fine. Random Guy Steve. I have a very serious question for you, then,” the man says back, mimicking Steve’s tone before grinning. “Do you want mini marshmallows?” He asks holding up a steaming mug.
“Of course I want mini marshmallows; how is that even a question?” Steve responds with a laugh.
The guy chuckles at that as he dumps a handful of marshmallows into the cup before pushing aside a book and setting it down on the table.
“Thanks…” Steve lets his voice trail off as he looks up at the guy with a small grin and raised eyebrow.
“Oh!” He exclaims, face flushing, “I’m Bucky. Well, James, but nearly everyone calls me Bucky, even my parents. Make sure you drink that slowly,” he recommends as he brushes a hand across Gus’ neck and back.
Steve takes small sips as he sits and flips through one of the books on the table that’s about art history. Soon enough, he’s gotten to the end of the book and considers the notepads, but doesn’t want to be too nosy.
Steve looks around again, but finds his eyes drawn to Bucky more often than not. After the fourth time he catches himself watching the other man work, he decides he doesn’t care if it’s creepy to stare. He can’t seem to pull his gaze away. Bucky lost his sweater at some point, and Steve is fascinated with the amount of tattoos he has. From his seat, Steve can see most of Bucky’s right arm and the floral collage that covers it. The ones covering his left don’t seem as cohesive, but he can only catch glimpses as Bucky works. He wants to get up, to look closer, to find where one fades into the next, to learn what Bucky finds important enough to permanently mark his body with.
He knows he’s holding his body tense in an effort to not give in to the desire to get up and explore what he can see and what’s still hidden away under Bucky’s T-shirt. Gus, still pressed against him, snuffles and lets out a soft bark, succeeding in pulling Steve’s attention back to him. He can feel the warmth of the blush that floods his face as Bucky glances at them over his shoulder with a smile.
“He’s already giving you love, Gustavo, what more do you want?”
Steve lets out a sigh, thankful he wasn’t caught openly staring. “How old is he?”
“He is a spoiled five-year-old baby. Don’t let his demand for cuddles mislead you to be believe he’s not well-loved. He comes down to the shop all the time; I think he can sense when the more anxious customers need a little comfort.”
“Is that your way of saying I seem anxious?”
“Oh god, no. I mean, you kind of do, but I wasn’t trying to point it out!”
Steve can’t help the light laugh at Bucky’s fumbling. “Holidays and unfamiliar social situations tend to stress me out.”
“Drinking hot cocoa in a stranger’s kitchen is unfamiliar to you? I’m shocked.”
“More like small-talking with someone who isn’t an Avenger. I don’t know what to ask or say...I don’t want to overstep?”
“Well, consider me an open book,” Bucky says with a grin as he plates up the sandwiches and moves towards the couch. “I doubt anything you ask me will be an overstep.”
Steve pauses to set his empty mug in the sink and wash his hands before following Bucky to the couch. Gus has curled up on a mound of pillows with a half-chewed bone. Steve takes the plate that’s sitting on the coffee table with a stack of what he thinks are grilled cheese sandwiches.
The first bite takes him back to his mother’s kitchen in the ’20s. “Man, I haven’t had one of these since I was a kid,” he mumbles through the bite.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, there was one winter when my mom made them every couple of days.” Steve smiles at the memory and tries his best to not let it become bittersweet. He decides to return to a safe topic. “Tell me more about Gus?”
“Oh man, I’ve had him since he was eight weeks old. I’d recently moved to the city and was missing my family and our pups—we had four when I was growing up—so, I went to a local shelter and a beautiful pit they had rescued had just had a litter. She was already spoken for, but they didn’t want the responsibility of puppies. I sat down to get to know them, and that little guy came right over, curled up on my lap, and instantly fell asleep. It was pretty much love at first sight.”
They spend the next few minutes eating and talking about pets. Steve tells him how he’s never had one, but has always loved animals. It leads to a conversation on all the things Steve missed when he was in the ice; which somehow leads to them watching some show about a group of friends.
Ten minutes in, Steve isn’t sure what to think. He glances over at Bucky with a raised eyebrow. Bucky lasts for point-five seconds before breaking. Suddenly, he’s laughing so hard he’s doubled over.
“Oh man, your face!” He gasps out. “Priceless. I need to introduce you to all the things immediately, just so I get to see your reactions. Oh my god. Watch the rest, it’s half finished.” He tells Steve as he grabs their empty plates to return to the kitchen.
“But, what are they even wearing?”
“Man, be thankful they found and woke you up when they did! The ’90s spared no one.”
Steve’s turned the volume down to almost non-existent by the time Bucky returns with refilled mugs.
“Aw, you’re gonna miss the important dialogue.”
“I can still hear it,” Steve grimaces as he accepts the one from Bucky’s right hand. “I want to know more about your tattoos, not about their pathetic love lives.”
“Oh shit, you saw it, huh?” Bucky grabs self-consciously at his left elbow, despite the fact that Steve’s on his right and can’t see it anyway.
“It?”
“The, um, the shield? Your shield?” His entire face is pink as he says it. Steve just raises an eyebrow in response. “Shit. Okay, so yes. I have a Captain America tattoo, but in my defense, I got it when everyone thought you were dead. Though, had I not, I probably would have when you went on national television declaring ‘gay is a-ok’.”
“That is not what I said.”
“Whatever, that was the message,” Bucky shrugs back. “You were one of my dad’s heroes, so I got it as part of my tribute to him.” He turns then, to show off the faded shield with dog tags hanging from the star in the center.
“Tribute?”
“Heart attack, when I was twenty-one. He served in the Vietnam War, made it to sergeant. Always wanted to be a captain though.”
“What about this one?” Steve asks, lightly touching one of the few brightly colorful pieces he has. It’s a messy watercolor rainbow-ish thing partially hidden on his bicep. Bucky pushes his sleeve up to reveal the entire piece.
“Ah, that’s my ‘gay is a-ok’ tattoo.” His tone is flirty, and he’s grinning when Steve turns his gaze back to Bucky’s face. He feels his breath catch when he realizes how close he’d leaned in.
“Good to know,” he says back, a little surprised at how low his voice sounds. He starts to close the distance between then, when suddenly Bucky jerks away with a yelp. Steve’s eyes widen when he realizes he’s spilled his hot chocolate all over Bucky’s leg.
“Oh fuck, that’s hot.”
“Not the context I expected to hear those words. Sorry about that.”
Bucky barks out a laugh at that before pushing his mug into Steve’s hands and pulling off his jeans. “Okay, nope, I’m all sticky, I need to go wash this off.”
“You’re killing me here,” Steve responds from the couch.
“Oh my god,” Bucky groans as he slams the bathroom door shut.
Steve makes himself busy by cleaning up the small amount that spilled onto the couch and taking the mugs to the kitchen. Bucky returns a few minutes later in a thin pair of yoga pants that are clinging to his thighs.
Steve clears his throat as the other man sits back down. “I, uh, noticed the notepads on the table...did you draw all of your own?”
“Most of these,” he says shaking his left arm. “And the one that’s on my back. But my best friend’s little sister created all of these,” he points to the flowers covering his right arm. “She was always curious about what I do; so when she turned fifteen, she started working the front desk and practicing her lines at the light table. Eventually, I let her use my arm to practice on, with the promise that I could get it covered if it turned out like shit. Thankfully, she was a quick study. Shuri had a list of clients waiting for the day she turned eighteen.”
“I’ve thought about getting something done. A few times. Thor even got me drunk on his Asgardian stuff and almost got me to a shop. I sobered quicker than he thought I would.”
“What would you get?”
“I’m not sure… Maybe I’ll get ‘gay is a-ok’,” he says with a laugh. “Something with that message anyway.”
“I like that. But you have to promise you’ll let me do it, and you have to be sober.”
“Deal.” Steve smiles at him. “So, tell me about the one right here,” he points to his own wrist.
“Oh man, that was one of the first tattoos I gave myself. I was…” he squints up at the ceiling, “um…maybe fourteen? An older cousin’s boyfriend worked at a shop and taught me a few things. I was always drawing on myself, but when that one didn’t wash off for a different cousin’s wedding, my mom got so pissed at me. My dad was surprisingly cool with it. Man, he’d be so jealous that I met and fed Captain America. He’d probably slap me upside the head for making you grilled cheese.”
“It was perfect though. My mom would’ve slapped me upside the head for not offering to help. Maybe I’ll make you breakfast to make up for it.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you’ve used that line before?”
“It’s not a line.”
“Uhhh…pretty sure it is,” Bucky squints at him while nodding his head. “Pretty sure it’s from a movie.”
“I probably haven’t seen it.”
“Or every movie with a one night stand.”
“Are you saying this is a one night stand?”
“God, I hope not. You’re way too much fun to never talk to again.”
“Oh yeah?” Steve asks, aware that they’ve moved closer together again.
“I’ve been trying really hard to avoid thinking about the fact that Captain America is on my couch, in my pants.”
“I could be out of your pants,” Steve whispers with a grin.
“Oh god, again with the lines,” Bucky laughs, but he pulls Steve in as he does, so he’s still laughing when their lips finally meet.
It’s slow and sweet, and Steve wants it to go on a lot longer than it does.
“You still cold?” Bucky asks when they do pull away, his hands on the back of Steve’s head.
“‘The cold never bothered me anyway,’” Steve tells him with a slight musical tone.
“Are you kidding me? You’ve seen Frozen ? Enough to quote it no less?”
“Blame Stark. He found it hilarious.”
“And I thought I was being insensitive earlier. So, tell me, what have you watched and what’s still on your list?” Bucky asks, tipping his head against the back of the couch. Their conversation moves on from there. Bucky has strong opinions both on what is and isn’t on the list. Steve tells him that, despite catching up on many movies since he’s been out of the ice, The Wizard of Oz is still his favorite. In return, Bucky pulls his shirt up to reveal the words “Everyone deserves the chance to fly!” written around a broom on his hip.
Steve reads the words a couple times before looking back at Bucky’s face. “I don’t get it.”
“Oh! Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t, huh? It’s from a musical based on a book that’s based on The Wizard of Oz .”
“Should it go on the list?”
“I think everything should go on the list, even the shitty things. But yes, Wicked should for sure. Which Christmas movies made the cut?”
“I don’t think any did.”
“Seriously? None? Not even Home Alone? Which no matter what some people say—it’s the best Christmas movie. Ever.”
“Ever? Really? That’s a pretty bold statement,” Steve teases. “I’ll add it to my list.”
“Bullshit. We’re watching it. Right now,” Bucky grabs the remote and turns off the TV show that’s been playing quietly. Steve excuses himself to the bathroom while Bucky looks for the movie. When he returns, the Christmas tree and TV are the only lights illuminating the room. Bucky announces he also needs to use the bathroom, but that he’s starting the movie for Steve. “I’ve seen it so many times. I used to be able to quote it.”
Gus joins Steve on the couch while Bucky’s gone. Three of the many kids are looking out the window whispering about the neighbor when Bucky gets back. “Into mummies,” Bucky whispers along as he sits down, closer to Steve than earlier despite the fact that Gus is also on the cushion. “Oh shit, I haven’t seen this in so long.”
He can feel Bucky’s eyes on him a few minutes later as the house on screen erupts in chaos once more as the family realizes they overslept. He looks over at the other man as the neighbor kid bothers the van driver and laughs at Bucky’s excited face.
They both return their attention to the movie as the vans are pulling away from the house. Throughout the movie, Steve makes little comments here and there; like, “Why not just move the stupid statue?”; “Oh man, they’re never getting another pizza delivered.”; and “Ouch!”. Bucky only speaks when he’s quoting the movie, which he does more often than not.
By the time the burglars are falling from the makeshift zip line, Steve’s nestled in the corner of the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. Gus is mostly stretched across his legs, and Bucky is completely against Steve’s arm. He isn’t sure he’s ever been more comfortable.
A few seconds into the credits, an ad for the sequel pops up on the screen. Bucky leans to grab the remote and hits the play movie button without hesitation. While he’s sitting up, Steve shifts so his arm is up around instead of under Bucky when he collapses back into his slouched position.
The second movie is just as entertaining and unbelievable as the first. Steve is thoroughly entertained and thinks to whisper that to Bucky when he realizes the other man has fallen asleep. He lets himself sink a little more into the couch and ends up missing out on the last thirty minutes of the movie.
*
When Steve wakes up in the morning he’s a little disappointed to find himself alone on the couch. He’s warm, so he knows he couldn’t have been alone for long. The smell of coffee and bacon push through the disappointment enough to get him sitting up and looking over the back of the couch at the kitchenette.
“I was supposed to make breakfast.”
“I fell asleep, therefore it wasn’t truly a one night stand.”
Steve pulls himself off the couch and takes large strides across the room so he can crowd up behind Bucky as he flips the three last pancakes. He waits until they’ve joined the stack on a plate and the burners are off before spinning Bucky around to face him.
Between kisses Steve manages to get out a few words, he’s pretty sure he’s able to form a full thought. “I believe—we said that this—wasn’t going—to be just a one—night—stand.”
Bucky shushes him and deepens the kiss. His arms are around Steve’s neck, so it’s easy for Steve to lift Bucky up onto the counter.
Bucky laughs against Steve’s lips at that. “I have a perfectly good bedroom, just over that way.”
“Good call,” Steve agrees and carries a laughing Bucky to his room.
Later, when they get around to eating the food that’s grown cold, Bucky gives him a soft look. “So...what made you run away on Christmas?”
“I didn’t run away.”
He shrugs, a small grin covering his lips. “Walk away, then.”
“It wasn’t Christmas yesterday.” At Bucky’s flat look, he shrugs. “I don’t really know…I think it hit me that I was going to be alone for Christmas. My last mission ran long and then the storm was predicted, so my flight got pushed and then cancelled. So, I was alone and didn’t want to be. Walking around the city always makes me feel less alone. So much has changed, but the streets and the feel of living in this city is still pretty much the same.”
“So even Captain America gets lonely, huh?”
“Yes, but Random Guy Steve does more so,” Steve admits. “At least Captain America is needed. Not many people care about the man behind the mask, unless like you said earlier, it’s to gossip about him.”
“I know we just met yesterday, but I know I much prefer Random Guy Steve.”
Steve can’t help the shy smile that covers his face at the words.
“So, tell me,” Bucky moves so he’s on Steve’s lap, “Random Guy Steve, are you happy you ran away on Christmas?”
“You know? I think I am,” Steve says back as he leans in to pepper kisses across Bucky’s face before finally landing on his mouth. “Running away led me to you.”