Steve loves the fall.
It’s finally cool enough weather to permit outdoor activities without sweating profusely, but warm enough that he doesn’t have to worry about Bucky getting frostbite over his shoulder. The trees leaves have started to change colors and fall off, creating large piles children loved to play in. And best of all, Halloween is right in the middle of it.
Steve is always excited for Halloween. He loves seeing kids running around in their costumes, laughing and playing with each other. He especially loves seeing kids in a Captain America costume, speaking of truth and morales. It warms his heart, even if just for a night.
He’ll hand out candy on the porch, complimenting each character he sees. They’re always so passionate about whoever, or whatever, they’re dressed as, and will give him a synopsis that deserves its own plaque at the Smithsonian. Their parents will flash an apologetic smile, but he’s quick to dismiss them, interested in the youth’s aspirations. It reminds him of when he was younger, and would piece together cloth and cotton to make a worn down Uncle Sam costume. Even if he was poked and prodded at, it gave him a momentary distraction from the world around him. Bucky would tag along, carrying his inhaler so he didn’t have to.
He’ll even talk to teenagers who come by with their younger siblings, offering them something to keep themselves up for the drive home. It’s best to keep the new generation safe, even if buying a case or two of Red Bull seems a little extensive.
Either way, he loves Halloween.
Bucky, however, does not.
He absolutely loves the fall. The weather is nice, pumpkin coffee tastes so much better, and it’s finally appropriate to wear comfy sweaters. However, he does everything he can to avoid Halloween.
While Steve likes to sit outside and hand out candy, he remains inside, curled up on the sofa with 30s music playing through the house. He tries not to think about the possibility of someone sneaking up on them, wearing some dumb costume but underneath is a HYDRA agent looking for what they once owned. He knows Steve can handle it. He’s assured him many times that there’s no chance of that happening, but if it did, they’d be okay.
He doesn’t like the idea of everyone hiding behind a mask, even if they are kids. He likes being able to size someone up himself, and be ready to accommodate.
Regardless of how happy he is when Steve comes inside, telling him all about the kids that dressed up as their favorite superhero and how many of them were little Captain America’s and Captain Marvel’s, he doesn’t like Halloween.
That is, until this year.
He and Steve had gone out the evening before, gathering candy to hand out. They dodged the store employees who kept their radios close, and teenagers who stared wide-eyed at the metal hand attached to the shrouded arm that looked like it could punch a hole in a brick wall. Both managed to make it out without having anyone ask Bucky to step out because he was ‘freaking people out’.
Steve was pouring a bag into the large plastic cauldron they kept over the years when he popped the question.
“Hey Buck, why don’t you sit outside with me this year? It’s nice outside, and I’m sure kids would love to see you-“ “that’s nice and all, but I don’t think I can.”
He did, a few years back.
He sat outside with Steve, passing out candy, when someone in a Red Skull costume came to their front porch. Steve had to pull him inside and calm him down before he could go back and apologize to the family for his boyfriend almost ripping off their father’s head.
“You know nothing fishy will happen. Come on, please? I think it’d be nice. You wouldn’t have to sit in the house alone.”
He considered it for a few minutes before shaking his head. “Steve, you know I don’t like being around kids. Especially because of the…” “if you say your arm, I’ll beat you with it.” He stepped forward, pulling up the sleeve of his shirt. Bucky flinched as his fingers traced the rivets and gaps in his appendage, running his thumb over the cool metal. “It’ll be okay. If you ever feel uncomfortable, you can go back inside. Please?”
Bucky sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “Fine, but I’m not wearing anything stupid.” “Deal.”
The two were sat outside, uniforms on.
Bucky only agreed because it gave him a sense of security. He felt ready to attack if needed. And besides, Steve looked really good in his uniform. It clung to each and every curve, defining his muscles spectacularly.
A few kids showed up early, when the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. Most were dressed in little witch and army man costumes, some calling Steve by name. It was nice to see him compliment their costumes and smile at their little anecdotes, flashing a wide smile as they approached. Every once in a while, a small avenger showed up, bouncing in place when Steve would salute them.
It was nice.
After it got darker, the slightly older age group came around. Teenagers dressed in ridiculously gorey costumes and children in unpredictable get-ups came by, some astounded to meet the one and only Captain. A few kids asked to see the shield, one or two asked to hold it, and more than enough wanted a picture. It seemed to be going great. Maybe he’d actually be out here the whole night.
He wasn’t expecting the next group of teenagers.
One with a horrifically realistic gash on their cheek stepped up with their younger sibling, standing behind them as Steve offered the cauldron and light conversation. Bucky was so focused on watching him that he didn’t even notice the kids staring at him.
His metal fingers flinched when the oldest one spoke.
“You’re…the Winter Soldier?”
His stomach dropped promptly as he gave an answer. “The name’s Bucky.”
“But you’re the Winter Soldier, right?”
He didn’t want to answer. He wanted to crawl inside a hole and die before he answered that question.
It took everything he had to nod slowly. “I was.”
The kid backed up slowly, mumbling to the others in the group. After a moment or two of hesitation, the kid with the younger sibling spoke up.
“It was nice to meet you both. Darcy, come on.”
He frantically pulled their sibling away, ignoring her subtle whining as they left. The group periodically looked back at him, wondering if he was going to do anything.
Once they deemed it safe, they turned around and scurried off.
Steve rested a hand over his gloved one, rubbing it softly. “Hey, they’re just kids.” “But they’re right.”
He stood up quickly, glancing down at Steve. “I’m going back inside. Tell me if you need me.”
His partner slowly nodded, a sad smile prominent. “Okay Buck, I’ll be in later.”
The door closed with a loud thump, leaving Steve outside alone.
Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to take off the uniform. It was as though the material was fused to his body. He traced the creases in the leather with his metal hand, the kid’s words replaying over and over.
”You’re…the Winter Soldier?”
That’s all he ever was. That’s all he ever will be to them. To everyone. He couldn’t go back to being Bucky Barnes, because that man died on the train. He was always the Winter Soldier in the eyes of the public, no matter how hard he tried not to be.
He was sitting on the couch when Steve came barreling in.
He had a jacket pulled over his uniform, metal arm concealed by the material. A soda can was resting on the table, per the usual. He didn’t drink on Halloween. He had to be ready to go at any moment. He couldn’t risk being inebriated if Steve came in to alert him, like he was now.
Bucky shot up, left hand closed in a tight fist. “What’s happening?”
Steve was quick to deny. “Not what you think. Come on, you have to see this.”
He seemed confused, shoulders dropping from their tense position. “What?” “Come on!”
He darted back out the door, Bucky following quickly. What could possibly be so important that he had to drag him outside again?
Once he stepped out into the evening air, it made sense.
A small kid, no older than eight, was standing on the porch. His father was standing behind him, looking down at his son, arms folded neatly. He had on a black uniform that resembled his own ensemble, brown hair messily parted. His left arm was covered in tin foil that was pressed and molded to resemble his arm, a red star painted on the shoulder. He had a plastic gun in his little gloved hands, a wide smile on his face.
He was dressed as him.
“S-Steve?” “Go ahead, ask him what he is!”
Steve was pounding with excitement, shaking like a disrupted soda can.
Bucky bent down to try and meet this kid’s eye level, still about a foot over him. He looked up at him with big eyes, black eyeliner smudged over them.
“What are you dressed as?”
He expected three words. Three sick words he’d already heard enough for one night. He didn’t know why Steve would make him do this, but it was one sick prank.
Any thoughts were interrupted by his excited answer.
“I’m Sergeant Bucky Barnes! From the 107th! Captain America’s best friend, and my personal hero!”
He clicked his heels together, straightened his back, and gave a practiced salute. He was displaying the widest smile he thought he’d ever seen in his life.
Bucky pulled back slightly, absolutely dumbfounded. He was…him. This kid was dressed up as him. This kid idolized him. Some little kid in Brooklyn looked up to him so much, he went out of his way to dress up just like him.
His cold exterior cracked, a smile breaking through.
After a second of hesitation, he stood up straight, reflecting the kid’s salute. “Sergeant Barnes, I’m pretty impressed.”
Steve almost outdid the both of them, grinning like an idiot. He watched as Bucky kneeled down, taking in the costume before him.
“This arm is a lot nicer than mine. You wanna compare?”
Frantic nodding was the only answer he was provided as he peeled off the jacket, mechanical whirring emitting from the prosthetic while he stretched it out.
He pulled his arm forward, watching as the boy revelled in the intricacy of his prosthesis. His little hands reached up to touch it, but he pulled away quickly. “Can I…?”
“Of course Sarge.” He nudged it towards him, his little fingers running over the ridge. Steve was too preoccupied with the scene in front of him to even give out the candy.
“You’re so cool, Mr. Barnes!” “Come on Sarge, you can call me Bucky.”
The kid was bouncing in place, his father initiating conversation with Steve while the two were talking.
“It took forever to make that arm. He was dead set on being Bucky for Halloween. He’s his favorite hero.”
Steve grinned again, though he never really stopped. He loved hearing people say ‘hero’ instead of the overused ‘villain’.
“He’s my favorite hero, too.”
After a few minutes, the kid finally had to part with his father. He asked if he could stay with the super soldiers for just a few more minutes, but it was clearly too late for him to be out any longer. Steve shook the parent’s hand, thanking him for bringing the kid by.
Bucky, on the other hand, was met with a tiny hug.
The kid, whose name he still didn’t know, clung to his large form, mumbling words into his shoulder. “Don’t stop being a hero.”
He would’ve teared up on spot if he wasn’t trying to save face. He pulled away from the kid, flashing a smile. “You do the same, Sergeant Barnes.”
The two saluted each other once again before the kid bounded after his dad, leaving with a picture with his favorite hero, and an entire bag of candy.