Halloween was always your favorite holiday. As a kid it meant dressing up and trick-or-treating, coming home to get into pajamas and watch spooky movies while sorting your candy with your siblings.
Once you grew up, it became about scary movies and baking sweet treats. You didn’t really do well with the parties. You loved everything about Halloween; just not the parties. You had a few bad experiences with them in the past and after a while you never got invited to them anyway, so creating your own traditions maintained your love for the day. Even when you joined the Avengers and received an invitation to Tony’s yearly Halloween Haunting bash, you still chose to sit out the party.
Instead, dressed in Jack-o’-lantern printed pajama pants and a Halloween poster sweatshirt, you ignored the raucous race to get ready for the party and hid in the residential kitchen, baking cookies and listening to your ‘Spooky’ playlist. Complete with songs like The Monster Mash and Bette Midler’s I Put a Spell on You.
The latter being the one you were currently dancing and singing along to while baking slutty brownies. Sliding across the floor in your fluffy socks and singing into your ice cream scoop, Halloween was already shaping up pretty okay.
“I put a spell on you, and now you’re-”
“Nice moves, Doll.”
You jumped at the sound of a voice, yelping like a heroine in a horror movie. You dropped the ice cream scooper you were using as a microphone, staring up at the reason for your surprise.
You were a generally klutzy person. Bucky Barnes (and your immense crush on him) didn’t help that fact. Especially when he appeared in doorways, all smirking and clean cut, dressed like he’d just stepped out of a 1940’s recruitment office. Decked in an older fashion army uniform, Bucky was increasingly meta and undeniably gorgeous.
You couldn’t pinpoint when exactly you fell for Bucky, but it was moments like this that you wished you knew how to function like a normal frickin’ person instead of some lovestruck moron.
“What are you doing here?” You ask abruptly. “Shouldn’t you be leaving for Tony’s party?”
He came to stand beside you, glancing over your shoulder at all the baked goods you had spread out on the counter. His sudden proximity wasn’t doing much in the way of keeping you calm and collected. He smelled good. Looked good too, especially up close.
“Just waitin’ on Sam and Stevie. They’re dressed as soldiers too,” he said with a smile, stealing one of your already baked cookies. You giggled as he popped it into his mouth, eating it whole.
“You’ll have all the girls swooning and wishing they were born in 1942,” you mutter before you can stop yourself.
“According to Sam, that’s the plan.”
You tried not to dwell on his response, focusing on cleaning your ice cream scoop and returning to your latest batch of pumpkin shaped cookies.
“What’s with all the baking?” He asked. “Aren’t you dressing up for Tony’s party?”
“No. I’m not going.”
His surprise was undeniable, clear in his strained and shocked, “Why?”
“Halloween parties aren’t really my thing.”
He had that cute little crinkle between his eyebrows, his confusion resembling a puppy. “But you love Halloween.”
“Yeah, just not the parties. I was never really invited to them and when I was I always ended up disappointed. So now I decorate, buy candy and bake, all before sitting down for a spooky movie marathon.”
He leaned back against the counter, taking another cookie before meeting your eyes. You swallowed hard and looked away, unable to handle the intensity of his bright blues eyes on yours.
He smiled, “That actually sounds fun.”
Should you ask him to join you? No, he has plans. Why would he want to join you?
“I-I’d ask if you wanted to join me, but Sam and Steve would probably kill me for messing up your lil’ group costume.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he chuckled. “Why don’t you come and hang out with us at the party? If anything can make your night interesting it would definitely be watching Sam strike out again and again and again.”
You considered it, you honestly did. But part of you knew that watching Sam hit on girls left the possibility of watching Bucky hit on them too. He was very much single and a real flirt. He was just being nice in inviting you; you weren’t a factor in his love life and you knew it.
But he was a factor in yours and you knew your ego couldn’t really take watching him flirt with another girl right in front of you.
You shook your head, “I don’t want to be a fourth wheel on your guy’s night. And besides, I don’t have a real costume. Just these pajamas.”
“Doll, you wouldn’t be a fourth wheel. And I bet you’ve got somethin’ in that closet that looks like a costume.”
You heave a sigh. He’s just being nice. Stick to your guns.
“Bucky, it’s okay. I love Halloween. And I’ve been spending it like this for years and that hasn’t changed. Don’t worry about me. Just go and have fun!”
He opens his mouth to protest, only for Sam and Steve to walk into the kitchen before he can.
“Y/N! You’re baking?” Steve asked with a furrowed brow. Bucky may use the confused puppy-dog look from time to time but Steve had it down pat.
“She’s not going to the party,” Bucky blurted before you could even attempt to answer Steve.
“What? Why? You’ve had your Halloween decorations up since September!”
You sigh and glare a little at Bucky. He seemed frustrated now and you couldn’t understand why.
“I have my own little traditions, boys. Including baking the cookies Wilson is currently stuffing in his mouth and pockets because he thinks I can’t see him.”
“Shit,” Sam mumbled through a bite of sugar cookie. “Run!”
He took off for the door, handing Steve a couple of cookies from his pocket, only for the Captain to follow suit, running out with a ghost cookie sticking out of his mouth.
Soon enough it was just you and Bucky, locked in a disagreement you didn’t fully understand.
“Your friends are waitin’ on you, Sarge,” you said, trying to break the indescribable tension.
It was his turn to sigh. He fixed his hat on his head, stepping towards you again. You didn’t step back this time.
“Doll, if you change your mind, I’ll be there. I’d love to see you there.” He stepped in your space again, this time leaning in and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Happy Halloween.”
He turned and left, leaving you standing there with a hand over your suddenly warm cheek and a racing heart.
“Happy Halloween, Sarge.”
—
Sometime during your viewing of Orphan you came to a decision.
You’d give Tony’s party a chance. You’d put the effort in and maybe it would pay off. The prospect of spending the night talking to Bucky was a powerful notion, especially when it felt like his kiss was imprinted on your cheek. Maybe you’d misread a signal, maybe he saw you as someone who could be more than a friend.
You rushed to your closet, searching for something resembling a costume.
Everything looked pretty plain, until you came across the full-skirted red dress you wore to your friend’s wedding a year earlier. Tea length and satin, it was the prettiest dress you owned. It gave off an old Hollywood glamour vibe; one that you could maybe pass off as some starlet from the 50’s…maybe even the 40’s.
You dressed quickly, pinning back your hair and applying your favorite red lipstick. Your nerves were returning, the anticipation of disaster returning in droves.
But you pushed them away. You let yourself hope. You walked into the Tower’s intricately decorated lobby with your head held high.
It only took a moment for everything to change.
Some naive part of you hoped you’d been missing out on something, especially when the man of your dreams was the one encouraging you to step outside your comfort zone and show up to a type of party you never enjoyed.
You ignored every warning and every inkling that came to you, everything that protected you from the usual disappointment that came from a once eventful night for you.
You showed up at the party. You took a chance, a risk.
Only to be faced with Bucky locked in a passionate kiss with a girl dressed as a frilly-skirted maid.
You turned and left. Maybe you’d be back in your pajamas in time to watch Jennifer’s Body.
You realized that maybe you were just better off spending your favorite holiday alone in your bed after all.
___
You weren’t one of those people who got tired when they were sad. You wished you were, sleeping it off was oh-so tempting, but you were wired.
Already back in your pajamas and finishing off Halloween (after Jennifer’s Body and As Above/So Below), you felt like you were going over where you went wrong over and over. You had misread a signal…but where?
You felt like you were going over every interaction you and Bucky had ever had with a fine tooth comb.
It was keeping you up. You decided movies weren’t going to lull you to asleep as thoroughly in your current state. You opted instead to curl up with your worn copy of Coraline and try to pretend that the pages weren’t tear-stained.
That was when a knock came on your door.
Obviously, you were a little wary. Doors and Coraline will do that to a person, but you stood to answer it anyway.
Rubbing your now makeup-free, tear-streaked cheeks, you opened the door.
Only to find yourself face to face with the person you’d like to see less than the Other Mother at the moment; Bucky Barnes.
“Hiya, doll!”
Still in the army uniform, only more disshelved, he was glassy-eyed, sporting his supposedly long-lost Brooklyn accent and a little bit of a sway in his walk as he stepped passed you. Leaving you with only one logical conclusion.
“Are you drunk?” You asked, dumbfounded.
Super-soldiers were supposed to be immune to alcohol. They could get buzzed, but not drunk. Steve always joked about it. Although, having a grinning Bucky standing in front of you, messy haired and bouncing, you were starting to believe there was an exception to the rule.
You asked again, “Bucky, are you drunk?”
“No! No! No!” He stated, shaking his head with each word.
“Why’d you say it three times?”
“Because there are currently three of you and I didn’t want one feeling left out.”
Oh, definitely an exception to the rule.
He plopped down on the edge of your bed, kicking his feet up childishly.
“Thor had this drink, right. And it was sooo good. So, so good. I just kept drinkin’ it.”
You pinched the space between your eyebrows. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
“Kidding! I’m not kidding. Unless you want to be kidding, than doll we can kid as much as you want,” he said with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows and a little self-satisfied chuckle.
Your jaw dropped and you were certain your cheeks were warm. Damn it, that shouldn’t be cute!
“Was that meant to be a euphemism?”
“Euph…a…euph-a-what?”
His look of confusion was too cute for you to describe.
You sighed. Your night had taken yet another turn. You couldn’t just kick him out. He was still your friend. It wasn’t his fault you had changed your mindset, begun to see him in a different light. He saw you as a friend and he had come to you when he needed help. You couldn’t abandon him on his time of need.
“Take off that uniform, Sarge.”
His grin was in megawatt territory as he clumsily began unbuttoning buttons and unzippering zippers.
“Yes, ma'am!”
You buried your face in you hands, “Underwear and undershirt stay on, Lothario!”
His pout is nothing short of a petulant child.
Jesus, you were screwed. Your night had definitely taken a turn for the unknown. Good or bad, who knew in the Twilight Zone? At least you still had jokes. Mostly.
___
Bucky was a talkative, energetic drunk. It had taken about an hour to get him into your bed. And yes, that sounded dirty, but it wasn’t.
Because there’s really nothing dirty about a tossing and turning Bucky, shaking your bed every two seconds trying to get comfortable while you’re trying to read.
“Bucky, stop moving.”
He huffed, stilling beside you and taking to staring at you while you read. You could feel his eyes on you, even with your trained on the page in front of you. You tried to ignore the warmth you felt with his gaze on you, but it was near impossible. You slammed your book shut.
“Bucky, stop staring!”
That made him laugh. Then hiccup. Damn, how could one be a cute drunk?
“But doll, I just wanna look at ya. You’re so damn gorgeous, I can’t help myself.” Apparently, Drunk Bucky giggles like a kid when he’s adamant.
You frown. He couldn’t have meant that and you couldn’t shut him down completely. He wasn’t all there. He couldn’t be responsible for what he said. Even if it made your heart want to beat out of your chest.
“Go to sleep,” you said, more gruffly than you intended to.
“Did I upset you?” He asked naively, tone rising involuntarily. “I did. I’m a clingy drunken lug, aren’t I? I made ya mad!”
He smacks a palm to his forehead and it’s almost comical. You can’t stay…whatever you were before there was a drunken dork in your bed.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ruined your Halloween,” he almost blubbered, hand still over his face.
“Bucky, stop. You didn’t ruin my night.”
You unintentionally hurt my feelings, because I read more into an invitation you probably meant in friendship and arrived to see you kissing another girl. But you didn’t ruin my night.
“You just wanted to stay home and I was pushin’ you to go out and you didn’t want to. And I was dumb enough to drown my sorrows about it and try to be nice like you and end up getting slobbered on by this girl…”
“Slobbered on?”
That didn’t exactly sound like a passionate makeout.
“I think she meant to plant one on me, but she just kinda drooled and it was gross and I just drank more after that.”
Oh, no.
“Well, that wasn’t responsible.”
You weren’t sure how respond when you knew what was coming. You didn’t want to know what Bucky and frilly-maid girl got up to, but it looked like you were going to get a crash course.
Then, a surprise. “I didn’t wanna kiss ‘er. She didn’t really wanna kiss me either. She was just hurtin’.”
“Sounds like you two had quite the rapport.”
“No, we just talked. You know I don’t like that rapping stuff.”
Oh, naive and drunk Bucky. He stressed you out and made you laugh all without even trying. Especially when he rambled. It was so uncharacteristic of the usual Bucky, who was usually so quiet and humble and often listening to you ramble.
This was a nice change, even if he was about to tell you about his makeout session with a drooling girl.
“She was upset. She got stood up. She was crying. I didn’t know what to do.” And the surprises just kept coming. “So, I asked myself what you would do.”
Your surprise couldn’t have been subtle. You probably looked like a puppy, cocking your head to the side in a questioning look. “You did?”
“Uh-huh. And I bought her her drink and listened to her when she talked. Cuz you’re real good at listenin’ and she needed someone to and all she had was me.”
You stayed quiet; it was all you could think to do.
“And she took it the wrong way and just…kissed me. I pushed her off and told her that I had you. Well, wanted you. She got mad. But I-I didn’t wanna kiss her, I wanted to kiss you.”
The tears came unwarranted. Maybe it was the overflow of emotions from earlier, or the manifestation of newer and happier ones, but soon enough you were sniffling once again, wiping the tears away and trying to keep quiet about it. It was no use. Even drunk, Bucky noticed.
“Are ya cryin’?” His voice was a groggy sort of panic you’d never heard. “Doll, please don’t cry! You shouldn’t cry ever!”
He reached for you, clumsily clutching your face in his large hands. You couldn’t help but smile. It was watery and probably pretty ugly, but Bucky smiled that warm, dopey smile back at you anyway.
“You’re the best. My best girl! I wanna be around you all the time. Wanna make ya laugh, hold your hand…kiss your pretty lookin’ lips.”
No matter how tempting it was, you knew the latter couldn’t become a reality in that particular moment. Even if Bucky was closer, breathing your air, glancing down at your lips. He was of impaired judgement, not of sober mind.
With a steady breath, you pushed a hand against his chest, laying him back against your bed. He followed the pressure of your hand, resting back against the pillow again.
“Go to sleep, Bucky.” You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “If you mean it tomorrow, you can plant one on me and I promise I won’t slobber on you. Okay?”
“I’ll still mean it tomorrow, doll.” He chuckled, a smile still on his face as his eyes fell closed. “Happy Halloween.”
He stayed facing you and you didn’t turn away when you laid beside him.
“Happy Halloween, you drunken lug.”
You drifted off into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.
___
The next morning, you woke up earlier to make sure you had sole control over the coffee maker. You left a snoring Bucky in your bed, pretending he wasn’t the most entrancing person you’d ever had in your bed.
Coffee. A more cohesive focus, even in the wake of a night like the one before.
You tried to keep your expectations low, not let your imagination run wild. You always had your disappointing endings to Halloween and you were almost certain this one would make the list. Bucky was drunk. He probably wouldn’t even remember everything that happened, much less what he said to you.
It didn’t take long for you to head the telltale pad of footsteps and you pretended that your heart had taken up residence in your throat. You didn’t even know if it was him and you were almost gasping.
But then, Bucky was there. Complete with bedhead and furrowed brows, a picture of sleepy-eyed determination.
“Well, you look alive,” you said nonchalantly, placing down your coffee mug. “No hangover?”
Your answer was a kiss.
He walked towards you with an air of a man on a mission and you felt like your mind was on delay. You had been caught up in some type of mental haze and soon enough Bucky’s lips were on yours.
You could feel your eyes widen for a moment before you closed them, pressing into the kiss.It made your heart pound, your stomach flutter, and your lungs feel empty all at once.
When he pulled you closer at the waist and deepened the kiss, you were still having trouble remembering how normal people breathe. Not that you really cared too much.
He pulled away. You didn’t want him to, even though you were half-sure either your chest would collapse from lack of oxygen if you two continued.
“You kissed me,” you managed, a little breathless.
“Told you I’d still mean it in the morning, didn’t I?”
He grin was infectious and you never guessed you’d get to taste his smile, but soon enough it was pressed against yours.
This kiss was more intense than the first and you couldn’t help your gasp, nor your embarrassingly quick reaction time. You pressed into it, threading your hands through his hair.
You tugged a little on it when he gripped the back of your thighs, earning a soft groan as he lifted you onto the kitchen counter. You linked you ankles behind his back, pulling him close and kissing him back as intensely as he was kissing you. You were breathless, even light-headed, but you were also sure that you could kiss Bucky like that for the rest of your life and die happy.
He pulled away, damn him, resting his forehead against yours.
“Be my girl, doll. Go on a date with me. No group things, no parties. Just you and me.”
“Kiss me like that Barnes and you can take me anywhere,” you laughed, brushing his hair back from his face.
He quirked an eyebrow.
“Even a Halloween party?”
You rolled your eyes, leaning in closer to him.
“Ask me next year,” you said softly, lips brushing over Bucky’s.
"I’ll hold you to it.”
All seemed to be right with the world…until Sam happened into the kitchen.
Part stunned and part annoyed, Sam walked over to the batch of cookies you’d left on the counter. He scooped up the tray without a word, staring you straight in the eye.
“Let me have the tray and I won’t tell you why it’s ten times of wrong that you’re mackin’ on Barnes where we break bread!”