Chapter Text
December 24th, 2014
The wet pavement crunched under your boots, damp from the snow that had been salted and washed away. Locals and tourists alike were free to traverse the sidewalks without fear of falling and bruising tailbones.
Not that you were in any danger of falling. Bucky had his arm looped around yours so tightly you felt your fingers starting to tingle from lack of circulation.
“We’re fine,” you reassured him for the fifth time since you’d left Stark Tower—or the Avengers Tower, as it was now colloquially called. “No one’s looking, no one cares.”
The unyielding angle of Bucky’s jaw told you he didn’t agree, his blue eyes wide and watchful as he scanned the busy streets for signs of danger.
You gave an impatient, fond huff and pulled him along. You were freezing and you wanted to finish your outing and make it back to the tower before it started snowing. Judging by the grey pregnancy of the low-hanging clouds, you doubted that would be a wish fulfilled.
“This isn’t a good idea,” he grumbled, keeping his head dipped down so his eyes were covered by the rim of his black ball cap. “In fact, it’s a stupid one.”
“We can’t stay cooped up forever,” you said with a gentle nudge of your arm. “And if you hover over Tony much longer he’s going to sic Dum-E on you.”
“Like to see him try,” he muttered under his breath. Despite the gruff and snark he doled out in equal measure, you could feel the tension in his arm ease. You were clinging to the right one, of course, as Bucky insisted he keep his left free and ready for any eventuality.
His paranoia wasn’t completely unfounded. He may have been exonerated, but there were still people out there who had unfinished business with the former Winter Soldier. National governments with grievances against HYDRA and looking for a scapegoat, not to mention surviving cells within the organization. Pierce had been only one head of HYDRA, and the rest were proving difficult to flush out of hiding.
And of course, there was Rumlow. That particular bastard had been hanging over your head like a black cloud ever since he had escaped from the burn unit months earlier.
You shivered, instinctively moving closer to Bucky’s side. He glanced down at you, a frown touching his lips, and he only hesitated a moment before placing his arm around your shoulders.
The warmth of his touch did wonders to chase away the chill that had nothing to do with the wintery air.
The expanse of Central Park soon lay before you, everything coated in white from the bare limbs of the trees to the wide footpaths. Dozens of ice-skaters had already taken to the Wollman Rink. Red and green and blue parkas stood in contrast to the stark landscape, the skaters circling like colorful ducks on a frozen pond.
But it wasn’t the people below you were watching, it was Bucky. The taut muscles of his face had gone lax, his eyes distant and far away with the interlude of memory.
“We used to go skating, me and Becca. Not here, this place didn’t exist, but on the Lake.” He slightly tilted his head, one corner of his mouth turning upward. “Steve was too delicate back then, couldn’t skate with us. Besides, with how many layers he would be wrapped in, he woulda looked like a penguin waddling on the ice.”
When you remained quiet, he flicked his gaze downward and found you already watching him.
“What?” he asked, moving his left gloved hand through his hair in a sheepish gesture.
“Nothing.” The little smile on your face couldn’t seem to disappear, even when you tried to squirrel it away. “Come on.”
You led him down the paths deeper into the park. With the previous day’s snowfall, everything was covered in a gentle blanket of white, looking every bit like you were in the middle of a fairytale.
Bucky had a deeply traumatic relationship with the cold, which was why you checked on him frequently, but his blue eyes were round with delight, not terror, as he took in the sight of the winter wonderland. Something loosened within you and you breathed a little easier, but you were ready to abort the mission at the first hint of panic.
Soon you were at the Carousel, nestled inside a squat brick building. You were relieved to see it was open—not because you thought Bucky would ever go for a ride, but because you wanted to see his reaction to the historical attraction.
As the ride came to a halt and the current riders began to disembark, he edged closer to the edge of the path, his head tilted at that curious angle again as he looked through the snow-covered foliage to the open windows.
“This… this is different. But also familiar? Am I… misremembering this?” He sounded unsure, his brows pulled into deep creases as his lips formed into a pout.
“Nope.” You slightly lifted your chin, unable to keep the slight pride out of your voice. “The carousel you remember burned down in 1950. This one used to be in a trolley terminal in Coney Island until they moved it here in 1951.”
The way his face lit up, his eyes brightening as his eyebrows shot up, made the whole trip worthwhile.
“The West 5th Street Depot! I remember it!” he said, a slow but excited grin blooming on his lips. “I miss those noisy old streetcars. Steve and I used to…” He trailed off, the lightness of his expression slowly vanishing, as if it had never been there to begin with.
“What?” you asked, suddenly afraid you had triggered an unpleasant recollection. You knew strolling down memory lane was a risk, but you’d thought the benefits would have outweighed the negatives. Now, you weren’t so sure.
Bucky turned toward you, but instead of his face being drawn and pale, he wore a self-conscious grimace.
“Here I am, going on and on about the past, when…” He haltered again and teethed at his bottom lip. You knew it was a nervous gesture, but it always made you a little hot under the collar. This time was no exception.
“What?” you prompted, forcibly pulling your gaze up to his eyes. “What is it? Something wrong?”
He shook his head with a rueful pull at his mouth.
“That’s just it.”
Bucky reached down and took your left hand in his right, looping his fingers through yours. The unexpected gesture made your heart sing like a bird.
“Nothing’s wrong.” His eyes softened, and you didn’t miss the flush of his cheeks. “Everything is… good. Too good to be true.”
Clearing your throat, you shook your head and said, “I haven’t even showed you the best part yet.”
His brows rose in a dubious slant. “That right?”
“Mmhmm.” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you smiled. His gaze dropped toward your mouth, and the heat of his stare was enough to melt all of Wollman Rink.
With your hand still in his, you tugged playfully, pulling him after you. “It’s not far!”
Bucky’s lips were pressed into a deliberate line, but the laughter was bright in his eyes, unobscured by troubled memories or moments of self-doubt, and he tagged along after you quite willingly.
It was only when you were within sight of the skating rink that he slowed his pace, forcing you to shorten your own footsteps. You turned back to tease him for being such an old man, but the words died on your lips.
Bucky’s eyes were fixed on the frozen surface. You had been at a safe distance before but were much closer now, and you didn’t think you were imagining the pale shade of his skin.
“No skating,” you said, preemptively and firmly. When he appeared unconvinced, his jaw as tight as a snare, you wrapped your arm around his waist, purposefully pulling his focus to you. It worked; Bucky hard-swallowed but met your gaze, his eyes slightly wide.
“Promise.” You slightly squeezed him against your side. “You’re gonna like this.”
Bucky simply nodded his head, the implicit trust in his eyes more meaningful than any words he could have said.
With a small smile still on your lips and your gloved fingers still intertwined with his, you led him up a curve in the path to a small concession stand. Baby blue wood with painted white trim, it looked like something from a bygone era, much like the man standing next to you.
The smell wafting toward the cart, however, was familiar to you both. By the time you had finished waiting in line and both took your cups of hot cocoa, Bucky had gone red around the ears, no doubt remembering the last time the two of you had shared hot chocolate. The vivid memory forced you to duck your head and focus very closely on your steaming cup.
There were children around for Christ’s sake.
Still without saying a word, you carefully hooked your right arm around his left. Even through the thick fabric of his sleeve, you imagined you could still feel the cold titanium underneath.
Bucky eyed you out of the corner of his vision, his gaze reproachful but immediately forgotten when you pulled him down to sit beside you on a bench cleared of snow.
The view was impeccable, on a slight hill overlooking the rink, and beyond was the tree line with the grey clouds and skyscrapers framing the background. Even in the dreariness you could see the hulking outline of the Avengers Tower, rising and disappearing into the cloud cover like a dream.
“Wow,” Bucky breathed out, capturing your sentiment of the view perfectly. Except you weren’t looking at the skyline.
“Right?”
He turned his head and caught you staring, but all you offered in response to his raised brow was a half-shrug and a mischievous little smile as you tucked back into your cocoa.
As you sat in comfortable silence, just far enough from the rink for the sound of laughter and voices to be muffled and distant, it began to snow. Crisp flakes drifted down, just to immediately melt on the bend of your knee. The soft whiteness of the world around you was a comfort and brought up only fond memories. You wished that were the case for Bucky.
Despite his warm jacket, a tremor ran down his shoulders. You switched the cup to your left hand, and without hesitation, plunged your right deep into his jacket pocket.
Bucky gave a start, opened his mouth, and then closed it promptly when you pulled yourself closer, purposefully melting into the curve of his side.
“It’s snowing, I’m cold, and you don’t need this pocket. Thought I would grab it for myself.” A smirk pulled at your lips and you added, “Unless you want to share.”
Bucky’s deer-in-the-headlights expression would have been funny if it hadn’t tugged at your heartstrings so fiercely.
He brushed the tip of his tongue over his lips—you still couldn’t figure out if he knew the effect it had—and his Adam’s apple plunged as he swallowed.
“All yours.”
His cheeks had a ruddy tinge to them by time he averted his eyes and turned back to his steaming drink.
Despite your teasing, sticking your hand in his pocket and sidling up to him was as far as you were planning to go. It had been a while since… Well, your feelings hadn’t changed, but they might have on his end. Bucky had been on the run for months, and your time together before that could be counted in hours.
A very intense time, as short as it had been. A time when you had gotten to know the Winter Soldier almost as well as you’d gotten to know Bucky Barnes, and you couldn’t lie and say it hadn’t been a hell of a rough beginning.
You could also say you were moving slow for his benefit, and you were, but you also didn’t know how to bridge that divide created by time and distance.
Apparently, Bucky did.
He spoke your name, softly but without any of his previous nervousness. When you turned your head, opening your mouth to respond, he was right there, and you didn’t even have time to blink before his lips were on yours.
They were just as soft as you remembered, a heat behind them that could melt the deepest snows.
Hot cocoa forgotten, you parted your lips, an invitation, as you curled your fingers into his long hair.
Bucky’s strong arms were around your waist in a second, pulling you closer and lifting you into his lap. Your fingers tightened in his hair and he groaned low in his throat.
You didn’t care who saw, you’d let Bucky do whatever he wanted to you, right here in front of New York and God and whoever else wanted to watch because you needed him like you needed air, and it had been so long—
“Agent Williams?”
No, no, not now.
“Are you awake, Agent?”
No! Go away!
You rolled over onto your side, giving a frustrated groan into your pillow.
“Ah, good. Mister Stark wishes to know if you’ll be down soon. Shall I inform him that was a yes? Or a no?”
You mumbled into your pillow and realized the AI probably couldn’t understand your resentful utterances. “What time is it?”
“It’s eight thirty-six, ma’am,” Jarvis answered succinctly.
You gave another pained groan. It wasn’t his fault Tony couldn’t contain himself like a kid on Christmas… oh.
“God, right, I’ll be down in a sec.” You rubbed at your face as you pulled yourself into a sitting position. The dream clung to you like smoke and you couldn’t seem to shake it off.
“Mister Stark says, ‘If she’s not down in five minutes I’m gonna have Dum-E tear open all her presents.’ I believe he’s being serious.”
“I’m sure he is,” you answered with a tired sigh.
You got dressed while on autopilot, your thoughts drifting far away as you stared out the window at the grey morning light. It was snowing again, and a deep ache settled in your chest at the memory of snow settling into Bucky’s hair.
No, not a memory. A dream, but one so unfairly clear because it was based on a memory. You had gone through the same motions the day before… with Steve.
Not the handholding or the flirting (or God forbid, the kissing), but you had taken him to Central Park in hopes of showing him everything that had changed since he’d been there in the 40’s.
The difference between Steve and dream-Bucky’s reactions had been startlingly different. Steve had still told the story about how Bucky and his sister had skated on the lake while he had to be on the sidelines. He too had also recognized the old carousel from the trolley station.
That was where the similarities ended. Bucky’s tense vigilance had been absent from Steve’s face. Bucky’s aversion of the rink had also been fabricated in your mind; Steve hadn’t seemed to care at all, even though he too had been frozen in ice for a long, long time.
The outing with Steve had been enjoyable, especially when Sam and Nat had joined you later that evening to see the Christmas lights strung around the park, but you had never stopped thinking about the person who wasn’t there.
Even then, even when it had been eleven months since the events in D.C. and the last time you’d seen Bucky, you still looked for his face in the crowd and felt his absence in the hollow space beside you.
It had grown worse when you’d passed by the concession cart selling hot cocoa, the familiar rich sent sending you back to the safe house where you’d hidden with the man who had broken you free of HYDRA’s captivity. Bucky had only just started to emerge from the chilling persona of the Winter Soldier, and the scent of hot cocoa had been one of his first memories of his previous life as James Buchanan Barnes.
Steve had caught the pause in your step, noted the faraway look on your face, and had asked if you wanted to stop for some. You’d quickly shaken your head and moved on. It was stupid, really stupid, but you didn’t want to share that with anyone else. Not even the man who had been Bucky’s closest friend.
Eleven months with not a single sign. You’d figured out long before now that if he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. It made his absence hurt all the more.
You picked up your phone and scrolled through your messages as you did every morning. No strange or unknown numbers, just a few messages from the people waiting for you a few floors above in the common room.
T. Stark: You up yet? Im going to turn on the fire suppression system in your room
T. Stark: come on no one needs more than 6 hours of sleep get up
T. Stark: Im serious Williams your shit is my shit if you dont come up in 5
S. Rogers: Don’t worry about Tony. Take your time.
S. Wilson: Please save me from these man children
An amused smile crossed your lips before you could stop it.
There was one last message. There weren’t any words, only a single picture. Chocolate chip pancakes stacked ridiculously high, slathered in syrup and topped with sliced bananas.
You stomach immediately rumbled; Nat knew you so well.
You put your phone into your pocket, the smile slowly falling from your face. This was the first time you’d spent the holidays with people who treated you like… well, like a real family.
There was only one thing missing, and no matter how hard they tried, no one could fill the void he had left behind.
Someday, you told yourself as you left your room and crossed the hall to the elevator.
Someday, it won’t be a dream.