nysalogs | Holidays in Red and Green

[It's Christmas, and she knows that back home there would be some sort of Avengers party the evening before, assuming that no one was trying to destroy the world. There would be gifts from everyone and gifts to get. She'd visited a few friends, people to check on, but coming home to this was... It was nice.

Christmas music, a few strings of lights, a few presents wrapped and glittering under a garland of tinsel. Some time alone with James, some mulled wine in her glass. What else was there to ask for?

Even if there is a part of her that misses the people that used to go along with the Christmas parties, this is a good thing to have, something that she's glad for. It's one of the things in this place that makes some kind of sense, even as she works her way through it. She's never been the best with gifts, spy though she might be. Her instincts lean toward the practical, but she's learned that knives aren't actually great presents. Even to superheroes.

And with James, she'd tried to opt for things that were a little more personal, at least. She's not nervous, as she brushes her hair back behind her shoulder. It's just been awhile since they've done something like this. It feels new all over again.]

Merry Christmas.

You didn't have to get me anything, you know.

[ Bucky grew up during the Depression, and while Dad was alive they never had it too rough, he still learned to go without. Useful practice for the rest of his life.

He knows that Natasha knows he means it. ]

I'm glad you did, though.

[ He hopes she knows that he means that too. ]

I know.

[And she does understands both sentiments. And given her upbringing it wasn't like Christmas had been a tradition, not until she came to America. But she'd wanted to get him a few things, even if they were mostly small, just little things that she hoped would make him smile.]

Good. I just wanted to have this.

[The words are soft. Not quite coy, but just an admittance that she'd wanted this with him. Something quiet, something good, better memories made to the falling snow outside the window. She sets her glass of wine down for a moment, piking up one of the neatly wrapped presents, and crossing over to him so she can hold it out to him, leaning in a little too close on purpose.

Christmas cheer, and all that.]

You first.

[It's a sweater, hidden in a box under the bright wrapping paper. It's nice, even if she'd almost considered one of the garish sweaters of the season. A shade of dark blue that she'd always thought looked good on him, cashmere, soft to the touch, but warm enough for the snow.]

Open it.

[ He is careful about opening the wrapping paper, not ripping it until he gets to the last little bit that's stuck to the box. There's still enough to reuse again, at least.

Bucky hasn't really gotten presents since he was a little kid and Dad was trying to make their first Christmas without mom special. And that feels worlds and lifetimes away, opening this present. He likes it— it's not the kind of thing he'd feel strange wearing, like a lot of Olympian fashion. He puts it on immediately, so quick that the shirt underneath rolls up a little, a piece of Christmas ritual he hadn't realized he'd forgotten.

The smile on his face is slower. ]

It fits.

[She watches him as he opens it, as he pulls it out of the box. It had been something that had seemed like it could have been from home, something she'd thought would look good on him. And she wasn't wrong she decides as he pulls it on over his shirt and she can't quite help the touch of a laugh that rises to her lips unbidden.

She slides up onto her knees, shifting slowly into his space, her hands going to his shoulders and then sliding down her arms as she smooths out the fabric, tugging a little here and there.]

I'm glad. You look good.

[There's something about the moment, and she tilts her head to the side, looking into his eyes as that smile forms on his lips, brightens his face.]

[ There's something very intimate, about her hands on his shoulders. It's the kind of touch that hasn't been allowed much in his life. Small, ordinary, human.

He decides he wants to kiss her, and angles his chin in a way that asks permission. She's already so close.]

[She'd stopped by to say hello, to wish him a Merry Christmas. Natasha didn't have a long list of friends here, but there were a few people that were worth the time and the effort. He was on that list, not just because of his name, but because he was a good man, in that he was someone she'd trust if the cards were down.

Of course, Christmas has its bittersweet moments for her, too. There are so many people that used to be part of Christmas for her, back home. That list of friends and acquaintances was so much longer, and here it makes the holiday a touch melancholy. She's good at pushing down her emotions, ignoring the pangs. But she's got Christmas with James too, and that's..

She's looking forward to it, she wants it, but there are layers to it, too. The fact that when everything had gone wrong it had been in December, amidst the snow that falls outside doesn't make it easy.

She'd tried to kill James.

It makes the season a little bit hard for her. But she has a smile, even if she doesn't put in the effort to make it too convincing. She sighs, nudges at him a little.] You have any other Christmas plans?

I was thinkin' about trying to cook something. See if I can distract Steve a little with a fire in our kitchen.

[ He grins, but if he's honest he really misses Peggy, too. He can't feel what Steve is, but he feels his own sense of loss without her and he's doing his best to just focus that energy on Steve, because Bucky's used to having everything taken away, anyway, and he's still got Steve. It's more than he's used to and more than he deserves. ]

I figure I'll try to cook something, let it start a fire and then he can come rescue me from the danger I wasn't in.

Mm. Why don't you take him out to do recon somewhere?

[It's said with an edge to her voice that implies it's a common coping strategy for most of the men in her life.] Get his mind on something else and you wont have to ruin your kitchen.

[Of course, this being Steve, there was a good chance he'd shake loose trouble. He had more than a nose for it, at least in her world. But then, so did she, in her own way. And punching bad guys certainly wasn't the worst way of handling things.

She wasn't the sort to be dependent on someone, but she understands how rough it has to be for Steve. The worst part is when you don't know if they're coming back.]

Because that's how I wind up in a firefight. Have you met Steve?

[ And, sure, Bucky would be fine, but that doesn't mean he wants to have to shoot or punch people right now. He misses Peggy, in his own way, and he's so tired and he just wants to find a way to help Steve that doesn't involve pointing him at trouble.

She's probably right, though. It would help.

He sighs. ]

Yeah okay. Recon.

Holidays in Red and Green

James

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Bucky

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