Chapter Text
Early morning light filters in through the gauzy white drapes over Steve’s bedroom window, falling across Bucky’s face. He welcomes the warmth of the beam on his skin, nearly as much as he does the warmth of the body that still sleeps soundly in his arms. Without opening his eyes, Bucky smiles and nuzzles at the back of Steve’s neck, tugging the bigger man closer to his chest.
He’d gone into his own room the night before, after they’d come home from Stark’s Christmas party. At first, Bucky wasn’t sure what Steve had expected from him now. Did he want Bucky to keep sleeping in his own room? Was Bucky expected to start staying in Steve’s room every night? In his still cloudy mind, the fact that they were both incredibly new to this relationship raised some uncertainties. So instead of pushing his luck, Bucky had chosen to head off to his own bed.
But sleep didn’t find him there. He tossed and turned for an hour or more, but there was no getting comfortable. So he’d picked up the photo album Steve had given him and leafed through it’s pages again. Some of the photographs were so old that the images were a faded, muted brown on a yellowing background. Many of Steve’s sketches had begun to turn with age too.
One in particular caught his eye, held him captivated for several long minutes as he relived the memory. Tall buildings with hundreds of windows, people in skates gliding across an icy surface, a massive tree decorated in glittering lights and sparkling ornaments. Steaming hot chocolate warming both his still human hands. A new hat and scarf to fight off the chilly evening air. Steve’s expression as he concentrates on the page he works on in the new sketch book in his lap. The same feeling of longing and love burning deep in his chest, coupled with a sadness in knowing Steve could never know. A promise likely long since forgotten was forged that day, one Bucky never got to keep.
Bucky had shut the book then and slid from his bed. Steve could know. Steve DID know. And for some reason, Steve wasn’t in his arms and that wouldn’t do. So he’d crept into Steve’s bedroom, and crawled into his boyfriend’s bed. The blond made no protest, didn’t ask him to leave, so Bucky had just curled himself around the sleeping man and held him close. It wasn’t until he felt Steve’s fingers lace between his own that he realized that the other man was awake, and he had pressed a soft kiss to the back of his neck. Only then, had he finally been able to fall asleep.
And that’s where he wakes now; in Steve’s bed, with the blond wrapped tight in his arms. I could get used to this. Bucky thinks, breathing in deep.
Here, he’s warm. Soft, warm skin presses against his own, and a thick duvet traps their body heat around them. Feathery, cloud-like pillows cradle his head and beckon him to fall back to sleep. It was nothing at all like the cold, solid slab he’d slept in back when he was Hydra’s tool. It feels nothing like the rocky, damp streets he’d lived on for months after escaping. He wasn’t frozen in a cryostasis chamber, awaiting his next mission. No, this was much better.
Here, Bucky is safe. Steve is beside him in the only place that the blond was meant to be - In his arms. Steve, who’d sworn to protect him from the likes of HYDRA. Steve, who had confessed his love for Bucky no more than twenty-four hours ago. Steve, who Bucky had loved more than anything for the past… Well, forever.
Here, things are peaceful. It had been so long since he’d slept so soundly, without night terrors making him wake up screaming in the middle of the night. The same could be said for Steve, too. Steve refused to admit it a lot of the time, but Bucky knew better. He’d heard his friend thrashing around in bed at all hours - when he actually let himself sleep, that is - crying out for help. Or worse yet, calling Bucky’s name in a terrified, choked sob. He didn’t need to ask to know what Steve dreamed about those nights. Now though, Steve still sleeps quietly on his side with his back to Bucky’s chest. Their fingers lock together and Bucky presses their hands against the tattoo that resides on Steve’s chest. The one that bears his name.
If I had to die now, I think this could be enough. Bucky think with a sleepy little smile. His lips ghost across Steve’s shoulder, and the blond stirs ever so slightly.
“Thought you went to your own room last night,” Steve’s mutters sleepily, his voice muffled a little by the pillow under his head.
“And I thought you were smaller,” Bucky replies with a soft chuckle. He presses more kisses to the back of his new boyfriend’s neck, shifting in as close as he can to the bigger body against his own. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get close enough to Steve, couldn’t feel enough of his skin against his own. “Last time I held you like this was the winter before I got deployed….”
Steve nods sleepily. “I remember that,” He says. “I was really sick that winter.”
“You were really sick every winter, asshole,” Bucky taunts with a rueful little smirk that earns him a half-assed punch in the arm. “But, you were especially sick that year…” He buries his face in the side of Steve’s neck, breathing him in deep, filling his lungs with Steve’s scent. “Thought that’d be the year I lost you.”
The blond’s hand tightens around Bucky’s and soft lips press against his knuckles. “Didn’t, though,” Steve murmurs. He tugs Bucky’s arm a little to pull it tighter around him, and Bucky willingly lets him. “Ya can’t get rid of me that easy.”
Bucky laughs lowly and props himself up on his left arm, so he can look down at the face he loves so dearly. “Good thing I don’t wanna get rid of you at all, then.” Steve turns onto his back and peers up at him through still sleep-heavy eyes, full lips pulling into a gentle smile. Bucky lets his flesh hand release Steve’s to slide up the blond’s chest and neck, cupping the side of his face.
Their eyes linger, gazing into one another’s for what feels like hours, and no matter how long he looks, Bucky can’t get enough of the sight. Steve looks so gentle and at ease first thing in the morning, blue eyes shimmering in the sunlight, neatly cut hair tousled adorably around his head. The way he smiles with just one corner of his mouth makes him seem so innocent and content. And Bucky’s heart thumps a little harder inside his chest.
“God, you’re so perfect…” Bucky breathes, forcing himself to advert his eyes.
It’s like watching an eclipse. Bucky thinks as he looks back to Steve again. His thumb brushed against the other’s cheek bone, while his own lips quirk into a smile. Too brilliant and beautiful to stare at, yet you can’t force yourself to look away.
Steve laughs, and Bucky feels a warm hand rest at the small of his back. “Shut up, Barnes,” He says, though not without fondness in his voice.
“Make me, Rogers,” Is all he says before leaning down to capture Steve’s mouth in a soft kiss. Steve sighs against his lips, kissing back. His fingers trail up and down the length of Bucky’s spine as their lips part against each others, kissing in a slow, deep way that leaves Bucky’s head spinning.
Steve pulls Bucky back down beside him on the pillows, their arms quickly finding their way around one another. The kisses shared are soft and sweet and delicate. Fingers that run across warm skin are gentle, bordering on hesitant. And Bucky has to admit: this is the most relaxed he’s been in years. Their legs tangle together beneath the sheets.
Before long, Bucky forces himself to break free from Steve’s mouth and presses his forehead to the blond’s. Their eyes lock and Steve’s now flushed lips pull up a touch in the corner. “I could get used to this,” Steve says, his voice soft as if not to disturb the peace around them.
Bucky nods, the fingers of his right hand running idly up and down the centre of Steve’s spine. The light touch makes Steve squirm ever so slightly, and Bucky laughs to himself. “Good, me too.”
They wile away the hours together in bed, not bothering to get up. Sam had left Tony’s penthouse the night before with his date and hadn’t called Steve for their morning run. Tony himself was probably still sleeping. As for Natalia and Clint, well, Bucky didn’t know what to make of them. All he knew was that if he didn’t have to get up for the next few hours, he wouldn’t. Instead, he’d just lie here wrapped in the strong arms of the man he loved and just enjoy the stillness. More lazy kisses were exchanged, once hesitant touches turned more sensual. Bucky let Steve’s hands roam along his skin, map the old scars that lined his body.
“I wish I could have done something,” Steve says, quietly still. His head is propped up on his hand while he lies on his side; Bucky’s on his back with his left hand under his head, and his right stretched out under Steve. Steve traces a thick, silvery rope of a scar that stretches from Bucky’s sternum to his naval, blue eyes heavy with sadness. “If I had known-“
Bucky presses a metallic finger to his lips to shush him. “There’s no way you could have, Stevie,” He tells the blond in a soothing tone. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I’m here now… I have you.”
Steve nods lazily and presses his hand flat to Bucky’s chest, right over his heart. “Damn straight.” The sentiment brings a flicker of a smile to Bucky’s lips as they leaned in to capture Steve’s again.
By the time the two of them finally haul themselves out of bed, breakfast and lunch have passed and the dinner hour wasn’t too far off. Not that Bucky minds all that much. He stands under the hot spray of the shower rinsing the soap from his skin, mouth pulling up in the corners in a smirk. His skin still tingles in the places where Steve’s fingers had touched.
It had been so long since he’d been so close to another human being. And longer since he’d actually been intimate with somebody. Yes, there had been a brief time in years gone by where he’d been involved with Natalia, but he hardly counts that. Bucky had still been Him then. The Soldier, The Weapon, The Asset. He hadn’t been a fraction of the person he is now. And back then sex, the only real intimacy he’d known - or the gross approximation of it, anyway - had meant nothing to him… A philosophy that Natalia had shared.
But Steve… That had been completely different. He felt a passion in the way his boyfriend kissed him. Seen love in the depths of the those blue eyes as they gazed upon him. It was like nothing Bucky can ever remember feeling before, not even before he’d fallen from that train. It was completely foreign territory to be so utterly and completely swept up in somebody like this. Of course, if it was going to be anybody, it was going to be Steve.
He replays the morning over in his head, chuckling to himself as he lathers the shampoo through his still too long hair. Bucky hears the sound of the bathroom door opening, and peers through the steamed over glass to watch Steve’s blurry outline cross the room. “Comin’ in, Cap?” Bucky calls over the sound of running water.
He hears Steve’s voice hum softly in agreement, watches him step out of his pyjama pants. The blond pulls the glass door open and slips inside the enclosure quickly. “You were taking too long,” Steve comments while stepping around Bucky and under the shower head. Rivulets of water trail over his perfectly carved chest and abs and Bucky wants nothing more than to follow them with his tongue, if for no other reason than to make Steve squirm.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Bucky replies with a smirk. “You just couldn’t stay away from me.” Bucky steps in closer to him again, both his hands running up Steve’s chest and around his neck as he leans in for another slow kiss.
“Mmm… You do make that a difficult task.” Steve says quietly against his lips. They stand there under the running water for some time, exchanging lazy little kisses and laughing softly.
“So,” Bucky starts, placing another kiss to Steve’s lips. “I have an idea.”
Steve pulls back enough to look him in the eye and quirks a brow. “Does it involve not leaving the bedroom? Because I could be ok with that,” He replies. Blue eyes glimmer wickedly as full, kiss-bruised lips pull into a dirty smirk.
Now that’s a face I could definitely get used to seeing, Bucky thinks, while biting down on his lower lip. It was still just a little strange to see this side of his friend. Bucky didn’t really get to see all that much of Steve in his new-and-improved-by-medical-science body before he’d ‘died’. And the little he did see had been either in war propaganda videos, or on the battle field. He never got to see Steve with hundreds of women flocking to his side, all trying to become Mrs. Captain America. He never witnessed Steve getting flirty - save that one time in London with Peggy Carter.
In his mind, Steve was still the shy, slight little creature Bucky had protected for years. Steve was still the awkward kid that most dames overlooked for Bucky himself. He was still the poor sap who wouldn’t ever ask his date to dance because he ‘was waiting for the right partner’. In Bucky’s mind, Steve was still ‘Stevie’. Not this…. This… Chiselled God that stood before him, naked and dripping wet.
So to watch those eyes darken with that seductive spark, and to see those lips pull up in that ‘kiss me’ smile… It set his nerves afire and the blood rushing straight to his dick.
“No, but that could be arranged.” Bucky tells him. He steps out of Steve’s arms long enough to retrieve the body wash from the little shelf in the corner of the shower. He dispenses a small amount into his flesh hand and gives Steve a look that silently tells the bigger man to turn around. Steve does so without question, and Bucky runs his hand up Steve’s back, leaving a soapy lather in its wake. “I was thinking that maybe I could take you out for a change.”
Steve looks over his shoulder at Bucky, eyebrow still cocked curiously. Bucky ignores it, rubbing the soap all across the broad expanse of Steve’s shoulders, down his narrow waist. His hands move up Steve’s abs slowly, fingers of both hands massaging the soap into his skin. As his right moves across Steve’s chest, his first finger and thumb give his nipple a pinch, making Steve hiss softly.
“I’m serious.” Bucky says.
“Ok, so what are we gonna do?”
Bucky smiles to himself, pressing his lips to Steve’s shoulder softly. “It’s a surprise,” He purrs into the blond’s ear. He pushes Steve back under the spray of water as the other man groans in frustration.
Showering with Steve turns out to take far longer than Bucky had thought it would. By the time the two of them get dressed and leave the tower the sun is starting to lower itself towards the horizon. They walk seemingly unnoticed down the busy streets side-by-side, not daring to hold hands in the public eye just yet. Heaven only knew who they’d run into out here.
They were dressed down today. Steve in a pair of dark, well-fitting jeans and stylized combat boots, with a white long-sleeved shirt and a black woollen pea coat. Warm looking, wool fingerless gloves covering his hands. He’d pulled a slouchy little black hat down over his hair and wound a scarf around his neck, before putting on a pair of fancy-looking aviator sunglasses. If Bucky didn’t know any better, he would have assumed Steve was just another of New York’s many hipsters.
Bucky himself had opted for a pair of slimmer fit jeans and a thick grey hooded sweater, with a navy henley underneath. He tucked his hair up underneath a navy-blue beanie that was much the same style as Steve’s, and hauled on a pair of leather gloves to hide his hands. Like Steve, he too chose to wear a pair of sunglasses as one more measure of obscuring their identities.
But with the streets and sidewalks this busy, Bucky thinks as they shoulder their way through the throngs of people, I doubt we really have to worry about being noticed today.
It was a comforting thought, especially after the fiasco that had been his last public appearance. The events of the Gala still weighed heavy in his mind. So many people had been outraged that The Winter Soldier been signed to the Avengers team, but more had been shocked to see that Bucky Barnes still lived. Shaking hand after hand, listening to words of praise from so many that he’d never met had worn him down. The room had been too big. Too many people were around and any one of them could have been working for Hydra, laying in wait to drag him back to The Masters —
“Hey… You all right?” Steve asks him, nudging Bucky’s human shoulder with his own.
“What? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine.” Bucky says, doing his best to shake the thoughts from his mind. Steve fixes him with a concerned look and Bucky heaves a sigh. “I’m fine, Steve. Seriously.” He smiles over at him feebly. Bucky knows that Steve sees through the act, but the blond doesn’t push.
Bucky leads him through the strangely familiar streets. Despite all the years that had gone by, New York hadn’t really changed all that much. Yes, the buildings were still massive, and only getting bigger. But the feeling was the same. Rush, rush, rush.
He recalls a time many years before when his feet walked much the same path, with the same gorgeous blond at his side. Of course, back then, Steve was just that slight little thing he’d been, carrying a brand new sketchbook under his arm. Back then, Bucky had to tell himself over and over that this was NOT a date.
… It was Christmas Day, 1936, and one of the only winters that Steve had been well enough to venture out of the apartment. Bucky had been busting his ass at the docks since the summer and was lucky enough to be kept on over the winter months. He was young and strong and did twice the work of the older fellas there. His boss was a kind man, loved the effort Bucky put in. And the bonus he’d given Bucky for Christmas had shown that.
Steve had been able to hold down a job too. He’d been working at the grocers just around the corner from their building since September and he was making out just fine there. Mr. Jones loved Steve and treated him like a son. If Steve had to miss work, Mr. Jones would stop by on his way home to make sure things were all right. Often times, he’d bring a loaf of fresh bread his wife baked for them.
With both their incomes, and the relatively low rent they paid, they were actually able to keep Steve’s medicine filled. And this winter the skinny blond was doing just fine. And this year - for the first time ever - they could afford to exchange gifts. Bucky had bought Steve a new sketchbook and a set fancy pencils to go with it. Steve had given him a new hat and scarf set, saying that the old one Bucky usually wore needed replacing. Bucky had gladly pulled the hat down over his ears on their way out the door.
“Gonna tell me where we’re goin’, Buck?” Steve had asked, hurrying alongside Bucky.
“You’ll see!” Bucky had replied.
He’d read in the paper several days before that there was some kind of new outdoor skating rink opening at Rockefeller Centre over in Manhattan, and had instantly thought that it’d make a great scene for one of Steve’s still-life sketches. They’d taken their time moseying along the streets stopping here and there to window shop or purchase a cup of hot chocolate from a street vendor.
When they arrived at the arena, Steve’s eyes had lit up at the sight of the huge Christmas tree. They perched themselves across the street on a bench, near a group of carollers who sang pretty songs to passers by who were probably too busy to notice. Steve had flipped his book open and started sketching nearly right away.
“Someday,” Bucky had said as the sun was starting to set and everything around them started to take on a golden glow. “When we got wives and a couplea kids each… We’ll take ‘em down here and go skating.”
“Ah can it, Buck. You know I ain’t ever learn how,” Steve muttered, his pencil still drawing away. Blue eyes looked up at Bucky then, and he smiled. “But, it’d be nice.”
Bucky had just nodded with a smile in return. “Consider that a promise, then.” Their eyes met for the briefest of moments and Bucky felt his heart kicking at his throat.
Tell him, you idiot! His brain shouted. Tell him you love him! Bucky pushed the thoughts aside. No, Steve could never know the truth. The truth was far too dangerous. The truth could get them both arrested, or worse yet - Killed. And Steve’s life was far more important than Bucky’s own selfish need to shower his best friend with all the love and devotion he could offer. So he forced it all back down, even though Steve’s baby blue eyes were dancing so innocently that Bucky could have cried.
But Steve just laughed and went back to his drawing. “Yeah, I’ll hold you to that one,” He’d said…
The sarcasm had been thick in his best friend’s voice back then, and Bucky knew that Steve really never did hold him to it. But he’d made Steve a promise. And today, he was going to make good on it. It was the least he could do.
“Gonna tell me where we’re going?” Steve asks as they skirt past a couple of kids. Bucky just shoots him a smirk and shakes his head. Steve huffs a sigh and laughs, following him down the sidewalks.
It’s a pleasant atmosphere, despite the crowd. Everyone seems to be in a holiday-inspired cheery mood and for a change. Walking through the people on the streets isn’t nearly as stressful for Bucky as it usually is. Carollers have amassed every couple of blocks and their voices ring out over the noise, putting Bucky in an even better mood. Beside him, Steve hums along with each song he recognizes. It’s a rich, warm sound that always puts a smile on Bucky’s face.
They stop at a Starbucks on the way along. “Wait here,” Bucky tells Steve. Steve eyes him curiously, but stays outside, waiting ever so patiently.
Inside the shop is warm and cozy. The little fireplace in the lounge area is lit, and it only makes the room that much more inviting. He waits in line, smirking to himself. If he’d better planned this out, he’d have told Steve to take his sketchbook too, just to recreate the memory from so long ago. I’m sure this will do, Bucky thinks, glancing out the coffee shops big window.
Steve’s leaning against a street light, hands in the pockets of his coat. He looks at ease and stress free for a change. There was no harsh line around his mouth, no stern expression. For a minute, Bucky forgets that they’re both supposed to be well into their nineties. He’s only drawn from his thoughts as the young barista calls for the next person in line and asks for Bucky’s order.
He returns to Steve a few minutes later and hands him a cup. The blond takes a sip and sighs contentedly. “I haven’t had just a regular, plain old hot chocolate in YEARS,” Steve all but gushes, as they start off down the street again.
“I thought it was fitting… Holiday season and all,” He says with a shrug, sipping his own drink. The hot liquid warms him from the inside and he smiles just a little around the brim of the cup.
It takes them nearly twenty minutes before they reach the destination Bucky has in mind. He can feel his heart starting to pick up in his chest as they mosey along 47th Street. Kids and adults alike walk past them with ice skates over their shoulders.
Steve walks along in silence beside him, simply enjoying the clear winters day. He seems oblivious to the goings on around him and to his surroundings too. All the better for me, Bucky thinks to himself. They wander down the street slowly, sipping their hot chocolate and enjoying their time together. Time alone. Time to be just a new couple.
“So, it occurred to me last night… I made you a promise.” Bucky starts, while the wait for a light to change so they can cross the street. Steve looks over at him with an eyebrow once again quirked.
“What?” Steve questions.
Bucky smirks, “Christmas, 1936? We were walking down this street right here. It was snowing all pretty like. You know… big, fluffy snow that sticks to your hat? Didn’t look much like it does now, but it still felt the same.” They round a corner and in front of them stands a massive Christmas tree, all its lights flickering on as the sun lowers itself behind the tall buildings that surround the square.
Steve’s mouth opens in a perfect little ‘o’ as he finally realizes where they are: Rockefeller Plaza. “… How did you remember that?” Steve asks in quiet awe.
“I promised you that one day we’d go skating with all the rich folk. Well, actually, I think it was more like we’d take our wives and kids skating here with all the rich folk,” Bucky tells him. He takes Steve’s hand in his flesh one and drags him towards the skate rentals booth, beaming from ear to ear. “But, a wife and kids ain’t exactly an option now… So I figured I’d just take my best guy instead.”
He watches as Steve’s cheeks flush a little, and the blond grins just as wide. “Buck, I don’t even know what to say…”
“Well, I didn’t get you a Christmas gift. And nothing I could buy would ever be half as sentimental as that photo album,” Bucky explains with a shrug. “And it just clicked into my head last night after I went into my room… I gave the album another look-through and found a picture you’d drawn of this place. Then it just all came back. So I figured… At least this is one promise I can keep.”
Steve’s hand leaves his then, only to reach up and cup his face. He can’t quite see through the dark lenses hiding Steve’s eyes, but Bucky can only assume those gorgeous blue eyes are welling up. Steve goes to speak, but words seem to fail him. Instead, the blond just smiles and gives a disbelieving laugh before leaning in to press a loving kiss to Bucky’s lips. Bucky kisses back, his own hands resting at Steve’s waist. They part quickly and Steve smiles again.
“This is better than anything off any store shelf could ever be.”
Bucky could do little else but look up at Steve through his sunglasses and give a shy smile. He forgets then that they’re in the middle of a crowded square. He forgets all about the hundreds of eyes that could potentially be looking their way. He forgets that even just one of those sets of eyes could belong to the wrong person. All he cares about at this moment in time is Steve. Seeing Steve’s face light up. Knowing the reason that he’s beaming so widely and brightly is because of him.
It makes a part of him that had been cold and dead for so long start to awaken. Like the ice that had once frozen his heart had finally begun to melt, and he could feel again.
Steve’s thumb runs along the ridge of his cheekbone and the blond just laughs softly again.
“C’mon,” Bucky says after a minute, stepping away enough to take Steve’s hand in his flesh one.
They shoulder their way through the people amassed around the huge skating rink to where the rentals booth sits and pick up a couple pairs of skates. Neither he nor Steve had ever learned to skate as children, but he assumed that if was like anything else, they’d pick it up pretty quickly. Steve leads them towards a bench near the edge of the ice, and they quickly remove their shoes and replace them with the skates, lacing them up tight.
“You know I never did learn how to do this, right?” Steve says, looking over at Bucky with a grin. “So if I go down, you’re coming with me.”
“What makes you think that I do?” Bucky shoots back.
“The Winter Soldier? You’re Russian? You mean to tell me that Hydra never made you learn?” Steve looks over the top of his sunglasses, and gives him a playful look.
Bucky groans and rolls his eyes with a laugh. “Oh ha ha, you are hilarious,” He drawls, sarcasm oozing from his words, making Steve laugh too. “No, they didn’t teach me, actually. So it looks like we’re both up shit creak here.”
Steve shrugs a little and gets to his feet. And to Bucky’s surprise, doesn’t look the least bit unsteady on the thin metal blades. “Well, only one way to learn.” He walks along the little path to the rink’s entrance and hesitantly steps onto the icy surface. Bucky gets to his own feet and leans against the side boards, watching the people glide past Steve with ease.
“Gonna move, Cap?” Bucky asks, smirking slyly. Steve just shoots him a little glare over his glasses before gingerly pushing one foot out and back, propelling the other forward. There’s no wobble, or lack of control in his movements; something Bucky assumes is due to his now impeccable balance, thanks to the serum that runs through his veins. Steve repeats the movement with his other foot, and within a few strokes, becomes accustom to the feel of the ice.
“It’s not so bad,” Steve says, turning himself around, and skating the few feet back to where Bucky is standing. Three children whizz past him, laughing and chasing each other across the ice, weaving in and out of the other skaters with ease; each of them no more than eight years old. Bucky looks at them, then back to Steve, and arches an eyebrow. “Ok if kids can do it, it can’t be hard.”
“Ok gramps,” Bucky chides, before stepping out onto the ice himself.
As he’s thought, it takes them both no time at all to master the gliding action, and before long they’re keeping up with the traffic on the rink with no trouble at all. Bucky reaches out with is right hand and takes hold of Steve’s, making the other glance over with a shy little smile. They stay on the ice for an hour or more, idly skating along; enjoying the clean, crisp winters evening and the company of one another.
As far as first dates go, Bucky thinks, This is definitely the best one I’ve ever had.