It was three days before Christmas and the weather was showing it, with frosty temperatures promising snow soon. The small market in Brooklyn was full of last-minute shoppers looking for Christmas presents and locals enjoying the atmosphere, the heavily Christmas-scented air, the laughter and Christmas carols and the colourful stalls ran by their neighbours. Two men walked through the crowd, one towering over the other, both of them with easy smiles and fond glints in their eyes.
Every year, Bucky and Steve went to the Christmas market. It had started when they were younger and forgetful as a quick run to get presents, but now it was a nostalgic trip that let them escape from all the relatives back home. This year, despite the fact that they were both having their usual fun, there was something hanging over them; Bucky was leaving soon to join the army and they both knew Steve wouldn’t be joining him, despite Steve’s denial. Tonight, though, they were just two boys out for some fun.
“Come on, Steve. Whadya' get me?” Bucky said, poking Steve in the side.
“Nope, I ain't telling you,” Steve said adamantly, noticing the cocky raise of Bucky’s eyebrow that said he thought otherwise. “I swear this year- it’s gonna be a surprise.”
“Yeah, for the first time ever,” Bucky mumbled under his breath, reaching out to fiddle with a scarf at one of the stalls. He turned, wrapping the scarf around Steve’s neck, pretending not to notice how close it drew them. “Is it clothes?”
Steve shook his head at that, pulling the scarf off and returning it to the amused store owner.
“Yeah, Bucky, I got my best friend of eighteen years a scarf.”
“I dunno, last year you got me paints; it could be anything.”
Steve snorted, “I got you paints because you love painting, and you’re the dumbass that’s trying to pretend I don’t know that.”
Bucky walked towards the next store, one with a range of gingerbread men and women. He looked for one that resembled Steve.
“Ok, ok, maybe I do like painting, but you’re the one that’s getting my mother to teach you how to knit.” He chuckled softly to himself at the memory of coming home to see Steve and his mother leant over what he'd assumed was meant to be a hat.
He found a gingerbread man that he guessed had been made too small, and paid the stall owner before turning back to Steve.
“Hey, look. Maybe this’ll make you grow a bit.” He teased, before noticing the look on Steve’s face. “Steve, what’s wrong?”
Steve shook his head, forcing a smile onto his face. Bucky raised his eyebrows; he’d known Steve practically his whole life- he could tell when something was wrong.
“Steve...”
“Fine. Don’t get all protective, but I... I just saw some guy that was giving me some trouble the other day, that's all.” He half mumbled the last part. Bucky immediately looked around, his previously carefree demeanour sparking into anger.
“Is this the bastard that gave you the black eye?” His hand that wasn’t holding Steve’s forgotten gingerbread man tightened into a fist.
“Language.” Steve attempted to lighten the mood, but Bucky just glared at him. “Yeah it’s him, but please, Bucky, let's just forget it.”
Bucky knew he wouldn’t get anywhere with this, but wasn’t just going to forget about it. He hated the kind of guys that picked on Steve, big guys with something to prove but too cowardly to fight someone their own size. He caught Steve’s wary glance at a guy across the market, one that fit the profile down to his slicked back hair.
“Alright, fine, but you gotta promise to stop starting fights we both know you can’t win,” he said, drawing Steve’s gaze back to him.
“I told you before Buck, its not about winning.” Steve grinned now.
“Yeah, yeah. Come on, you honourable idiot. I think I saw a stall selling newspapers; maybe you can stuff some into your shoes.” Bucky pulled Steve subtly towards the guy across the market.
“Ha ha, very funny. Keep up with this and maybe I’ll let a few embarrassing stories slip next time you take me on one of your double dates.”
“If you do, I’ll tell mom what you really think of her meatloaf.” He pretended to be cross, but really he couldn’t care less what the girls he dated thought of him. He dragged Steve out on those dates to try and cheer him up, and maybe because sometimes, he liked to pretend those girls weren’t there and it was just the two of them.
He shook himself out of his thoughts, noticing Steve had gotten distracted by a wool stall.
“Be right back,” he muttered, starting to make his way across the market, and Steve barely murmured a reply, already in conversation with the woman running the stall.
Bucky now had his sights fully fixed on the guy who did Steve in. He walked towards him, hoping to return the favour before Steve noticed.
“Hey”, he called to the guy when he was a couple of metres away.
The dude turned towards him, annoyance settling on his features.
“Yeah?" he said, sizing Bucky up.
“I heard you met my friend the other day,” Bucky said, now more determined than ever to teach this idiot a lesson.
“What? Who?” The guy was looking slightly more nervous now that he’d noted Bucky’s size.
“A little guy; blue eyes, blond hair, an enormous sense of justice.” Bucky was starting to enjoy this. The man’s eyes widened as he remembered Steve.
“Woah, woah... look here, that was between me and him. Ok? It’s finished, alright. Won’t happen again.”
“Damn right, it won’t." Bucky drew back his fist, ready to serve some justice of his own, when Steve appeared out of nowhere and slid under his arm.
Bucky stared at him with wide eyes as Steve leant comfortably into him so Bucky now had his arm draped around his shoulders.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
The guy realised Bucky’s distraction and quickly made his escape, but neither of them noticed.
“Hey,” Bucky murmured back, his eyes fully focused on Steve’s. Neither of them spoke, but both of them felt it. A line had been crossed; they’d finally passed the line between best friends and something more that they had been toeing for so long. Steve felt a sense of relief. He’d been so unsure about making that leap, worried that the one person he truly trusted would turn their back on him. Bucky felt his heart lighten. He’d been so sure Steve didn’t feel the same way about him, and he’d resigned himself to a long life of watching Steve have a family with someone else.
Steve stood up on his tip-toes till he was almost eye level with Bucky, and then, giving Bucky plenty of time to pull away, he leant forward and gently pressed his lips against Bucky’s. Steve had only kissed one person before, a girl at a school dance who was giggly and shy and had immediately run off to tell her friends. Bucky, on the other hand, had kissed multiple girls and a few guys on his mission to get over Steve, but in that moment, neither Bucky’s experience or Steve’s lack of mattered at all.
The kiss was years of pining, over a decade of friendship and a promise of years to come all at once. It tasted of the cinnamon biscuits they’d sneaked from the tin and the hot chocolate Bucky had insisted he pay for. Bucky slid his hand to the back of Steve’s head, and as the kiss deepened they both became aware of how very open to the public they were at that moment, and of the shocked gazes they were drawing.
Steve pulled away, grabbing the hand that had been around his shoulder, a grin on his face and a slight blush on his cheeks.
“Come on. I think we should go somewhere a bit more private,” he whispered, his voice raspy.
Bucky looked at him fondly, finally presenting him with gingerbread Steve before pulling them in the direction of Steve’s flat.
“First good idea you’ve had in a while," he said.