(Y/N) (L/N) drove carefully down the icy roads leading into the city, one hand on the steering wheel and the other delicately balancing a cigarette between its index and middle fingers. 'Indicate dickhead!' He suddenly yelled at the BMW in front of him, accidentally waking up Bucky who had been sleeping soundly in the passenger seat beside him.

         Violet had called him a couple weeks prior, inviting them both to stay with her for Christmas. Bucky hadn't been too keen on the idea, he didn't want to get either himself or (Y/N) in any sort of trouble. He'd even gone to see King T'Challa, in hopes he might be able to talk (Y/N) out of the idea, but all he did was make it possible. One of the king's pilots had landed them somewhere up in the north of England on Christmas Eve, away from any sort of civilisation, where an unassuming mini cooper was waiting for them, the keys resting under the passenger seat.

***

Bucky reached forward, fiddling with the dials on the centre console until the radio began to play. It played loudly at first, causing (Y/N) to wince until Bucky turned the volume down. 

He wore a woolly hat, the one (Y/N) had made him as an early Christmas present, and a pair of clear clubmaster glasses. 'I still don't think this is a good idea,' he said, shifting back in his chair as he stared out of his window, watching the snow fall and land gently on the pavement. 'What if someone recognises us?'

'They won't,' (Y/N) told him, rolling his eyes; this was the hundredth time they'd had the conversation, and he knew that (Y/N) (L/N) was getting sick of it. 'I'm not letting Violet spend Christmas alone,' he said adamantly, 'not when she doesn't have to.'

'I thought you said she had foster kids,' Bucky argued, 'and what about your nephew?'

'She had foster kids,' (Y/N) huffed, 'they've all grown up and got their own families now. And Benjamin fucked off back to Rotterdam with his mam when Jack died, they haven't got in touch with her since.'

'I just think...'

'Can we not,' (Y/N) asked, turning to face him as he frowned, 'she's family, and I haven't been there for her. She deserves a Christmas with family, and so do we...' Bucky nodded reluctantly, he seriously doubted a pair of fake glasses and a hat would disguise him. 'Besides, she's also desperate to meet Sergeant Barnes,' (Y/N) grinned, taking his left hand off of the gearshift and resting it on Bucky's knee, squeezing it a couple times.

I ain't laughing

I didn't hear the joke anyway

I got my fingers on the windows

As the snow makes this a prison

Tomorrow will be Christmas Day.

The pair stood at the red door, waiting for someone to answer. (Y/N) had rested his kitbag on the floor, and water had begun to seep into it. 'Your clothes are going to get wet,' Bucky stated, picking it up and slinging it over his shoulder along with his duffle bag.

         'Thanks,' (Y/N) mumbled. Bucky Barnes knew Dr (L/N) didn't like being helped, but he couldn't help himself; he wanted to help.

         A middle aged, black-haired, woman answered the door wearing a bright purple pinny. She grinned at the two of them, her gaze lingering on (Y/N) for a moment. 'Well, hello,' she greeted cheerfully in an American accent, 'you must be Violet's nephew,' She shook (Y/N)'s hand, grinning, 'and you must be the boyfriend.' Bucky blushed slightly; he and (Y/N) had never gotten the chance to put a label on their relationship.

         'Well, she's in the living room,' the woman said, inviting them in before picking up a suitcase, 'Mrs Hepples's given me the holidays off to go see the hubby up on the border,' she explained excitedly. Bucky dropped the bags and looked around the foyer. It looked different, there was new wallpaper between the panelling, and the whole room seemed a lot brighter.

         'Oh, well, I hope you have a nice time,' (Y/N) said politely to the woman, 'merry Christmas.'

         'Merry Christmas, Dr (L/N),' the stranger smiled, her eyes lingering on (Y/N) as she left the house.

         Bucky Barnes's heart dropped. She knew who they were. He grabbed (Y/N)'s hand tightly, craning his neck as he spoke into (Y/N)'s ear. 'She knows who we are, we should leave,' he said hurriedly.

         '(Y/N)?' a voice called from the living room, '(Y/N) is that you?'

         '(Y/N),' Bucky stared into his eyes, 'we should go.'

         'She knows my surname and that I'm a doctor,' he tutted, 'besides, even if Violet's told her she's probably sworn to carer-patient confidentiality or something.'

         'That's her carer? Is carer-patient confidentiality even a thing?'

         'I don't know, probably. And yeah, Violet told me a few months ago she'd hired some woman to come live in one of the spare rooms and take care of her so she wouldn't need to move into a home,' (Y/N) explained. An old woman hobbled into the entrance hall, embracing (Y/N) (L/N).

         'Oh, it's so good to see you,' she grinned, her white curls mixing with (Y/N)'s hair, he'd needed to dye it again to maintain his disguise. 'You to dear,' she smiled up at Bucky, wrapping her arms around him, '(Y/N) has told me all about you!'

         'All good I hope,' Bucky chuckled nervously, reaching for (Y/N)'s hand and gripping it tightly.

         'He practically worships you,' Violet chuckled, leading the way into the living room where she had three cups of tea waiting. Bucky Barnes and (Y/N) (L/N) sat on the sofa, whilst Violet rested herself in the chair closest to the fireplace. 'I don't think we've yet to have a conversation that doesn't involve Sergeant Barnes,' she chuckled, reaching for the tin which sat beside her. 'Brandy snap?'

         (Y/N) took two, reaching for the whipped crème on the coffee table and filling them both. 'What are they?' Bucky asked him as (Y/N) handed him one, 'I don't like brandy.'

         'They're nice,' he assured him, biting into his own, 'I don't even think they have brandy in them.' Bucky took a careful bite of his own. Crumbs fell into his beard as he savoured the sweet taste.

(Y/N) picked the crumbs out of Bucky's facial hair and placed them in a handkerchief, 'nice?' he asked, smiling.

'Amazing,' Bucky spoke between mouthfuls, 'thank you, Mrs Hepples.'

'Violet,' the elderly woman corrected him with a smile, 'have another.' (Y/N) put crème into another brandy snap and handed it to him. Bucky took it gratefully, biting into it and smiling. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten something so sweet. When he'd finished, (Y/N) laughed, wiping his face for him, pulling out the crispy pieces of brandy snap that had embedded themselves into his beard.

'So, what's the plan?' (Y/N) asked, finishing his cup of tea, 'I'm assuming you've grown out of baking mince pies and waiting for Father Christmas to come down the chimney until you fall asleep.'

Violet laughed, 'I was thinking we could go have a drink in the King's Head,' she suggested, 'only if the two of you are comfortable with that of course.'

'We'll be fine,' (Y/N) assured her, taking hold of Bucky's hand, and standing up, 'we'll just go put our bags in my bedroom and then we'll be ready.'

Bucky sat at the foot of the bed, holding his head in his hands as (Y/N) changed his shirt. The bedroom hadn't changed. Everything was the same apart from the electric heater which now stood under the dormer. 'Why are we doing this (Y/N)?' he asked, feeling defeated. All he wanted was to keep them both safe from the people who wished to see them imprisoned.

         'It's Christmas Eve, Buck,' (Y/N) (L/N) responded casually, buttoning up his shirt before slipping into a red knitted jumper, 'it's tradition.'

         Bucky slammed a fist into the mattress, 'for normal people, yeah sure!' he grunted, 'but we're not normal people!'

         'Stop worrying,' he scolded, 'you said it yourself in your letter – we deserve a life. This is life, Buck.' He pulled a flat cap over Bucky's head and readjusted his glasses for him, 'even if we can't look like ourselves, we can have a life.' (Y/N) pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, using his powers to pull forward the ceramic ashtray from his nightstand.

         'And if we're caught?'

         'I think you forget what I'm capable of,' (Y/N) chuckled, a red mist weaving intricately between his fingers. 'Someone questions us and...' (Y/N) clicked his fingers, the red disappearing, 'they forget they ever even saw us, and we fuck off back to Wakanda.'

I took you drinkin'

To say the things that I needed to say

You drank me under the table

Like you always do

The radio just plays away

Bucky stood at the bar, taking sly glances at the men and women on either side of him. The pub was busy, packed with people ranging from their late teens to early eighties. (Y/N) (L/N) and Violet Hepples sat beside the window, they both wanted amaretto. Bucky wasn't too sure what he wanted to drink. There was no use purchasing anything with a high alcohol percentage, he wouldn't feel the effects, and so it would be a waste of money. He quite fancied the idea of a Heineken, he'd drank that a lot whilst living in Bucharest. That was where he'd learned he'd never be drunk again. Bucky had drunk crates of the stuff but never felt so much as tipsy.

         'Yes?' the bartender asked, looking a little stressed.

         'Erm, amaretto,' he stuttered, 'and a Heineken.' The bartender, a thirty-something year old man with a receding hairline nodded, pouring him an almost perfect pint.

         'You with Mrs Hepples?' he asked.

         'Yeah,' nodded Bucky. The bartender smiled, pulling out a sealed bottle of amaretto and plonking it in a bucket of ice along with a glass.

         'Her – erm – nephew is drinking it as well,' Bucky mentioned, pointing to the single glass.

The barman put another in the bucket, 'twenty-four pounds, eighty,' he said. Bucky handed him thirty pounds, shoving the change in his pocket. He picked up the bucket with one hand, and his pint with another. 'The nephew,' the bartender said before he could walk away, 'don't suppose he's into blokes, is he?'

Bucky shrugged, taking a sip of his beer, he didn't want to talk.

'Oh, well, give him this off me, will you? Only if he is though, right,' the bartender asked, shoving what seemed to be a receipt into the breast pocket of Bucky's shearling jacket. Bucky Barnes nodded, gritting his teeth as he made his way back over to the table.

'Thanks,' (Y/N) smiled at him as he took his seat in the booth. Violet poured herself and (Y/N) a glass of amaretto, chucking a few ice cubes into their tumblers. Bucky pulled the receipt from his pocket, seeing that the barman had written a telephone number on it. Bucky Barnes sat closer to (Y/N) (L/N) now, holding his hand tightly as he conversed with Violet.

Bucky sat there in silence, drinking his beer as a group of middle-aged men played Christmas songs on their instruments.

Those same old songs

Every single year

We drink, we sing

And I forget the things that I need you to here.

'Bucky. Bucky?' (Y/N) asked from beside him, 'Bucky!' James Barnes turned to look at him, 'can you let us out, Violet needs the bathroom.'

         'Oh, yeah, sorry,' he apologised, shuffling along the booth, and getting up to let Mrs Hepples out. She thanked him, then slowly made her way through the pub towards the toilets. The pair sat down again. Bucky could feel (Y/N)'s eyes regarding him closely. 'Everything okay?' he asked him bluntly before taking another sip of his drink.

         'I was about to ask you the same thing, you seem a little lost.' Bucky shrugged his shoulders, his eyes focusing on the sticky tabletop. He felt a little lost. Everything was feeling far too... Normal.

         James Barnes was about to say something, when Violet Hepples returned to the table, accompanied by another elderly woman. 'This is Meredith, we play chess together on Wednesdays at the community centre,' she introduced, 'Meredith, this is my nephew... Neville, and his partner... Jim.'

         'Nice to meet you dears,' the grey haired woman smiled. (Y/N) shook her hand, and Bucky kissed it with a faint smile on his face.

The stranger blushed as she took a seat in their booth, 'it's nice to meet you both,' she smiled, whilst (Y/N) poured her a glass of amaretto. A cheery song began ringing through the pub, and (Y/N) looked towards Bucky. People were getting up to dance now.

'Fancy a dance?' (Y/N) asked him shyly, holding out his hand. James Barnes shook his head and glanced into his empty pint glass.

'I'm going to go get another drink, does anybody want one?' he asked the group. Meredith suggested they get another bottle of amaretto, a notion both (Y/N) and Violet supported. 'I'll be right back then,' Bucky said plainly, getting up from his seat and making his way through the crowd to the bar. A different bartender served him this time, a young woman with cropped blue hair. Bucky thought she looked like a mermaid.

'You look like you're having a rough night,' she said sympathetically as she poured his beer, 'you should be happy, Santy's coming.' Bucky chuckled slightly, giving her his cash when she handed him an ice bucket loaded with a bottle of amaretto and three tumblers. 'I can give you a tray if that would make carrying things easier,' the girl said, but Bucky assured her he'd be fine.

He got back to the table only to find Violet sitting alone. His eyes glanced around the room, fearing the worst, but only finding (Y/N) dancing with Meredith. They were both laughing as he spun her round gently. (Y/N) (L/N) danced over, resting his hands on James Barnes's shoulders. 'C'mon Buck,' he breathed heavily, grinning, 'I've just asked them to play that song you liked, the one that was playing in the car this afternoon.'

'I'm going for a smoke,' Bucky huffed, getting out of his seat, and striding towards the exit.

And we argue

As the snow seals us in for the night

You say 'Santa Claus is coming'

But I don't care what the song says

That's never gonna sound quite right.

(Y/N) chased after him, catching his hand just as he'd stepped outside the pub. 'What's going on Buck?' he asked, concern playing across his soft features, 'have I done something wrong?'

         'What are we doing here (Y/N)?' he asked loudly, 'why are we here? It's dangerous.'

         'Violet's family, Buck,' (Y/N) said plainly, 'I'm not letting her grow old alone. I've done it, I know how it feels. I'm not going to let her be lonely like I was.'

         'It's still not...' Bucky had begun, sternly, but (Y/N) interrupted him.

         'Have your cigarette, Buck, and if you feel like coming back inside then do, but if not then here's my house keys,' he huffed, placing the keys in Bucky's hands, and then walking back inside.

And this ain't New Jersey

Father Christmas is coming to town

You throw your drink in my face

Throw that look in my direction

And the radio plays on and on.

Bucky Barnes stood leaning against the wall, watching as his cigarette got shorter and shorter the more it burned. Snowflakes fell around him, landing in his eyes and beard as he blew smoke up into the air. He didn't want to hurt (Y/N), but he cared too deeply about him to let what they had built together be flushed down the drain. He supposed he would be the same if he had any living family, but he tried not to dwell on that.

         'Those things kill you, you know,' a familiar female voice interrupted him. It was Violet Hepples, she'd braved the snowstorm to come and see him.

         'I read the warning signs on the cartons,' said Bucky, 'just don't pay them any mind.'

         'Neither did Jack, (Y/N)'s brother,' Violet sighed, rubbing together her gloved hands as she pulled the scarf around her neck tighter, 'he chain-smoked throughout the whole war, and then continued to do so afterwards. He died in eighty four – lung cancer – he was only sixty-six.'

         'Oh, I'm so sorry,' Bucky stated, sympathetically resting a hand on Violet's shoulder, 'what about the rest of your family?'

         'Grandma died a couple years after Jack, she was a hundred and four. My mam died in ninety-one, just a year after we found my father's name at the Dunkirk memorial; turns out he was never missing, just dead.'

         'Violet, I'm so sorry,' Bucky frowned, putting out his cigarette now, so he could fully concentrate on what (Y/N)'s cousin was saying.

         'Auntie Mable died a few years ago,' she continued, 'I think she was holding on in hopes that (Y/N) would come back. I suppose she used her magic or something to help her live until the grand age of one-hundred and fourteen, just as Grandma had.'

         'Magic?' questioned Bucky, '(Y/N)'s mom could do what he can?'

         Violet went silent for a moment, '(Y/N) never told you?'

         'Told me what?' he asked, 'that she could make things float, and read people's minds and shit?'

         'Grandma and Auntie Mable could never 'read minds and shit',' Violet chuckled, 'but they could do magic.'

         'Magic?' Bucky gasped, 'like a wizard? Like Gandalf?'

         Violet laughed, 'witchcraft,' she said, 'our ancestors can be traced back to the women who were tried, tortured, and killed in Scotland in the sixteenth century for practicing it. They passed on their gifts to their firstborn daughters.'

         Bucky shook his head, trying his hardest to understand what he was being told, '(Y/N) wasn't a first born though,' he stated, 'and he definitely isn't a girl.'

         'He's an anomaly,' Violet half-smiled, 'I'm sure if they had a coven today, they would worship him and write books about my aunty Mable.'

         'So (Y/N) is a witch?' Bucky asked, still trying to wrap his head around the news, 'does he know?'

         'I don't think he perceives his powers as being witchcraft,' Violet answered, 'but yes, he's a witch. A very powerful witch in fact.' Bucky pulled out another cigarette and stuck it between his lips. 'Does that change your feelings for him?'

         He shook his head adamantly, 'of course not.' It scared him in some sense; the fact that (Y/N) (L/N) could potentially commit the worst possible crimes and he'd still love him unconditionally. Deep down he knew (Y/N) would never hurt anyone intentionally though, not if they didn't deserve it, not like he had.

         'Good,' Violet nodded, smiling slightly, 'because if what I've been told is true...' she paused, '(Y/N) is going to need all the friends he can find.'

         Bucky had just lit his second cigarette when Violet disappeared. He had more questions, but she wasn't there to answer them anymore. James Barnes glanced through the window, finding her with (Y/N) and Meredith. He was dancing with them both as they took it in turns for him to twirl them around.

Those same old songs

Every single year

We drink, we sing

Oh the state we're in

But it's Christmas, my dear.

Bucky Barnes grinned at the sight as he smoked, enjoying the way (Y/N) laughed and smiled. He was, in fact, quite a good dancer for somebody who had only danced three times in his life. The girls looked thrilled, and Bucky supposed he would be the same, had he been the one dancing with (Y/N) (L/N). Who wouldn't want to be dancing with the handsome young man?

            The snow continued to fall, causing Bucky Barnes to shiver slightly. (Y/N) would have loved it, the cold, and the snow, but Bucky wasn't so welcoming of it. He watched on as small children scattered their lawns with glitter and sawdust, laughing as they looked up into the sky. Bucky had never done that when he was a child, but he knew (Y/N) had. He'd told him stories of his brother and him sprinkling the grass outside of their house with sawdust and sand, believing it to be 'reindeer dust'. When (Y/N) (L/N) had first moved to Brooklyn, Bucky bought him a bag of sawdust, and on Christmas Eve night they had ran down the streets sprinkling it across the sidewalk. A few business owners weren't too happy about it, but it made (Y/N) smile, and so Bucky didn't mind sweeping it all up the following morning.

The workmen grit the roads

As the barman grits his teeth

He's praying that the storm will ease up over London

He knows he shouldn't drive

He'd be sleeping in his car

That just ain't no good.

Bucky stomped out his cigarette before entering the pub, storming through the crowd, and grabbing (Y/N) by the waist. (Y/N) (L/N) looked up at him in shock. Violet and Meredith began to dance with each other. 'What's wrong?' (Y/N) asked him, looking rather confused.

         'I'm sorry,' he managed to say. He felt guilty for the way he had been acting the whole night. 'I'm sorry for being in a mood.'

         'You're forgiven,' (Y/N) grinned, resting his hands on the tops of Bucky's arms, and rubbing them gently, 'as long as you stop being boring and dance with me.'

         'Of course,' Bucky smiled, twirling (Y/N) in his arms.

The floorboards of the pub

They just buckle with our love

'Cause when we fight, I love you more

Like your favourite film

It's a Wonderful Life

You've seen it a hundred times

The two had been dancing for almost an hour when Violet and Meredith stopped. Violet walked up to them, and they stopped also. 'I think Meredith and I are going to go home now,' she said, 'she's going to be joining us for Christmas dinner tomorrow.'

         'We'll walk yous home,' (Y/N) said, nodding towards Meredith, 'you don't live too far, do you Meredith?'

         'Just around the corner,' Meredith responded, pulling on her gloves.

         'Why don't I walk Meredith home, and – Jim – can walk you home Violet?' (Y/N) suggested, 'it'll give yous the chance to get to know each other better.'

         'Sure,' Bucky nodded, linking his arm with Violet's, he was eager to know more about the witchcraft she'd been talking about earlier.

         'We can walk home on our own,' Violet insisted, 'we don't need to be walked.'

         'I'm not letting either of you walk the streets alone,' (Y/N) said authoritatively, he looked to Bucky for support.

         'We just want to make sure you dame's get home safe,' he explained, unintentionally making the two elderly women blush. Bucky wasn't used to that. Normally it was Brooklyn girls swooning over (Y/N)'s accent.

         'Alright,' Meredith relented, linking her arm with (Y/N)'s, 'but you boys promise you'll come straight back here, we refuse to be the reason for your Christmas Eve ending at nine-thirty.'

         'Our night's just beginning,' Bucky told her, causing (Y/N) to smile a little, something Bucky Barnes took pride in.

         'Bet you're glad your bedroom is on the opposite side of the house,' Meredith giggled in Violet's direction.

         'I didn't...' Bucky began to turn pink, 'I didn't mean it like...'

         'You've said it now Buck,' (Y/N) smirked, winking at him as he led Meredith out of the front doors and down the street, 'I'll see you in five.'

         'I'll see you in five,' responded Bucky, feeling slightly embarrassed.

Their feet crunched in the snow as they followed the path towards Violet's house. 'So, (Y/N)'s mom, and your grandma, did they teach him any of that magic stuff?' he asked Violet, keen to learn more.

         'I don't think so,' Violet replied, 'if they did then it was in secret. I was too young to understand it at the time, and I couldn't be trusted since I was a child, so I only found out when I was older.'

         'You said he's going to need friends,' Bucky remembered, 'what does that mean? Is he in danger? Who told you all this?'

         Violet pushed her keys into the front door, turning the lock and entering the house, 'you shouldn't worry about (Y/N),' she told him, resting a comforting hand on his arm, '(Y/N) has the key to the cellar, if he ever wants to find that information he is welcome to it.' Bucky nodded, feeling a little defeated. 'Thank you for being so good to him.'

         'He's good to me too,' Bucky responded, 'the best.'

         'I'm glad to hear that,' she smiled, 'enjoy the rest of your night, I'll see the two of you in the morning.'

Bucky Barnes found (Y/N) at the bar, two pints in front of him as he listened to the barman. 'So what is it you do then?' the barman asked (Y/N), leaning over the counter.

         'I'm a doctor,' he answered, stuffing the money he was about to use to pay for the drinks back in his pocket.

         'Ah, you must be dead clever then,' the barman smirked, leaning closer now.

         'Nah, not really, I just wing it,' (Y/N) waved a hand, humbly shrugging off the compliment. When Bucky reached him he took hold of his hand, resting their intertwined fingers on the bar, gritting his teeth as he eyed the barman up and down savagely. The bartender stood up straight now, clearing his throat.

         'So erm, that'll be eight-fifty,' he stuttered, gesturing to the two pints.

         (Y/N) frowned, 'you said I could have them for free,' he pouted, 'since it's Christmas Eve.'

         'Yeah, I erm, forgot we have cameras, so boss wouldn't be too happy if he saw I was handing out freebies.'

         'I thought you were the boss,' stated (Y/N), 'you said you were the boss.' The barman was turning red now, and Bucky was thoroughly enjoying himself. James Barnes eyed him up and down, as a silence fell between them.

         'I – I – well I'm the manager,' he stammered. (Y/N) rolled his eyes and handed him the money.

         'Eight-fifty for two pints!' he complained as they walked back to their table, 'back in my day it was half a shilling!' Bucky laughed at him, amused. He'd never heard (Y/N) (L/N) sound his age until that moment.

The pair sat at their table, reminiscing over their time in Brooklyn before the war. Bucky thought his high-school stories about Steve would have gotten old by now, but they didn't. (Y/N) (L/N) sat and listened, thoroughly entertained by each one as he downed several pints of lager.

But you don't get bored

You don't get bored

You don't get bored.

Then they danced for what seemed like a lifetime. Every so often their eyes would meet. (Y/N) would blush and plant a kiss on his cheek. Bucky Barnes grinned like a lovesick fool whenever that happened. 'Are you feeling better now?' (Y/N) asked him, looking up into his eyes.

         Bucky nodded, he'd never felt better, 'tonnes.' He spun (Y/N) around and kissed him on the lips, 'you?'

         'I'm happy now you're happy,' he grinned, his eyes glazing over, probably from the amount he'd had to drink. The pub was getting quieter now as time slipped away from them. Bucky never wanted to leave. He wanted to stay there, with (Y/N), forever.

Eleven thirty

Chrismtas Eve turning into Christmas Day

I ask you how you're feeling

You answer 'I'm aging' I remember what I needed to say

Like Jimmy Stewart in the film that you hold so dear.

'(Y/N)?' Bucky Barnes asked the man who swayed drunkenly in his arms. His dance moves had gotten simpler and simpler as the night grew on and he continued to drink more and more. (Y/N) looked into his eyes, a half-smile plastered on his face. 'Are we boyfriends?'

         (Y/N) chuckled, 'are you asking me to go steady with you Barnes?' He was grinning from ear to ear. Bucky's heart began beating faster now. He'd never needed to propose the idea, he never thought he'd be able to. Now though, that he was in the right frame of mind, and they shared a home together, he thought it only appropriate for (Y/N) and him to put a label on their relationship.

         'I suppose I am,' Bucky responded, his breath hitching slightly, 'but only if you wanted to, of course.'

         'I'd be chuffed to be your boyfriend, Buck,' (Y/N) told him, resting a gentle kiss on his cheek. It was Bucky Barnes grinning from ear to ear now.

I may have had a bit to drink

I may have done some dumb things

But I'm glad the storm has trapped me here

With you.

Every so often Bucky would take a glance towards the bar. The bartender didn't look anywhere near as happy as he did when he'd been talking to (Y/N). Bucky nudged his head in the direction of the bar, and (Y/N) looked to where he was gesturing to. 'He was trying to flirt with you before,' he told (Y/N).

         'Really?' (Y/N) (L/N) screwed up his face, 'I'm pretty sure he was just being friendly since it's Christmas.'

         'Seventy-six years, and you're still just as naïve as you were when we first met,' chuckled James Barnes, 'so blind to any sort of attention. You haven't changed a bit.'

         'I think I've changed,' (Y/N) replied, 'I think we've both changed.'

         'And yet here we both are, together, in a pub, exactly as it used to be.'

         'Old habits die hard?' (Y/N) cocked an eyebrow, 'I think this is exactly as it should be.' Bucky nodded with a half-smile. He couldn't have put it better himself.

And as the workmen grit the roads

And the barman grits his teeth

He's praying that the storm will ease up over London

He knows he shouldn't drive

He'd be sleeping in his car

That just ain't no good.

When (Y/N) could hardly hold himself up anymore, the two of them went back to their table. Last orders had been called. It was almost one o'clock in the morning, and Bucky thought it best they finish their drinks and return home. 'I dreamt of this life for seventy-two years,' said (Y/N) smiling slightly as minute tears formed in his eyes, 'and now I finally have it – we finally have it.'

         Bucky nodded, he'd had dreams like that, 'what did we do in your dreams?'

         'I'd be working in A&E, or working towards my PhD,' he explained, 'you'd always be a police officer.'

         'A police officer,' Bucky chortled, he couldn't imagine it, 'I think I'd rather be a hero, like you and Steve.' He'd never admit it, but he was a little jealous of Steve, and all the good he had done.

         'You are a hero, Buck,' (Y/N) (L/N) assured him, 'you always will be.'

The floorboards of the pub

They just buckle with our love

'Cause when we fight I love you more

Like your favourite film

It's a Wonderful life

You've seen it a thousand times.

(Y/N) could barely walk by the time they finally left the pub. He was loping beside Bucky drunkenly, struggling to light his cigarette in the wind. Bucky, getting tired of watching his pathetic attempt at sparking a cigarette, eventually took the lighter off of him, standing in front of him in order to block the breeze and lighting it for him. 'Thanks,' slurred (Y/N), puffing away on it contently.

         'Come on,' Bucky told him, bending down slightly, jump on and I'll give you a piggy-back. It's going to take us about an hour to walk down the street at this rate, and it's freezing.'

         'Okay,' he nodded slowly, jumping onto Bucky's back and wrapping his legs around his waist. 'I love you, Buck. So-so-so much.'

         'I love you too (Y/N),' smiled Bucky Barnes, he'd never get sick of hearing those words.

But you don't get bored

You don't get bored

No, you don't get bored.

When they finally got inside the house, Bucky carried (Y/N) up to his bedroom and let him climb down off of his back. (Y/N) fiddled with the ancient radio on the top of his drawers, twisting the dials until eventually the static turned into music which played at a low volume.

         Bucky stepped out of his clothes and peeled back the sheets on (Y/N)'s bed whilst (Y/N) pulled out a bottle of whisky from his bedside drawer. He took the cap off and swallowed some before handing the bottle to Bucky. 'More alcohol?' Bucky chuckled, 'have you not had enough?'

         'Violet used to leave whisky out for Father Christmas,' (Y/N) told him, taking off his clothes and climbing into bed, 'I would drink it before bed so she'd wake up in the morning and believe he'd drank it; it's tradition.'

         Bucky shrugged, taking a swig before recapping the bottle and shuffling further under the covers where he could hold (Y/N) close against him. 'Night night, Buck, I love you,' (Y/N) yawned, settling in his hold after he'd done a turning motion with his right hand to switch off the radio from where he lay.

         'I love you too.'

Still those same old songs

Fill the air

We drink, we sing

Oh the state we're in

Here's to another year.