Archive of Our Own

December 2

As far as Bucky was concerned, he was ready for the holiday season to be over. It was, in his widely unpopular opinion, the worst time of the year.

First, it seemed to start earlier and earlier each year until he was absolutely fed up with the same ten variations of Christmas songs they blasted in the stores. Second, the approaching holiday meant that the library was filled with people cramming for finals. More people meant more books which meant more shelving work for Bucky. It was a fairly easy, as far as jobs went, and they paid a decent rate, but it was mind-numbingly boring.

The increase in workload wouldn’t have been that bad if Bucky hadn’t caught a particularly bad cold at the beginning of the week. The smart thing to have done was stay home, but he needed the money, so he’d dragged himself out of bed.

An hour into his shift and Bucky felt like a shuffling zombie. His nose was red and chaffed from having to constantly wipe it, and the cold medicine he’d taken earlier that day had done very little to make him feel less like a snivelling mess. He had to reapply hand sanitizer every few minutes to keep from infecting the books he was touching.

Bucky reassured himself that at least he didn’t work the front desk. He was already cranky enough without having to pretend to be nice to people. However, he changed his mind when he found yet another pile of books scattered in the middle aisles by lazy students who couldn’t be bothered to put them back in the reshelving area. Bucky had to stop himself from screaming out in frustration.

He didn’t realize someone had snuck up on him until they tapped his shoulder.

“What?” he snarled. It came out sounding harsher than he’d intended.

He had expected to find a clueless first year who’d gotten lost again, or Brock asking him to cover his shift while he fucked off doing God knows what.

Bucky was wrong, however, and rather surprised to see Steve Rogers standing there.

Steve pulled back and looked hesitant for a brief moment. “Um,” he started before he stopped. He looked at a loss for words, and Bucky immediately felt guilty for snapping at him.

“What can I do you? I mean, do for you?” Bucky quickly corrected. Fucking Freudian slips.

He kept his eyes glued on Steve’s blue eyes, trying not to let his gaze wander anywhere else. Steve had a terrible habit of wearing shirts that were two sizes too small that showed off his impressive (and terribly distracting) chest.

“Uh, I--I I’m looking for a book,” Steve finally said.

Bucky gave a slow blink as he tried to process what was just said to him. He was acutely aware of how disheveled and sick he probably looked to Steve. Of all the days, Bucky cursed internally.

“It’s behind you,” Steve clarified, looking uncomfortable.

Bucky looked over his shoulder before looking back at Steve. “Oh,” he said sheepishly, feeling rather dumb.

He stepped aside and tried not stare at the ripple of muscle in Steve’s arm as he moved forward to grab a book off the shelf without so much as a glance at it. “Thanks,” Steve muttered before disappearing around a shelf.

Bucky wanted to knock his head against the wall for his own ineptitude, and not just front of anyone either. In front of Steve Rogers.

He was the campus golden boy who had a reputation for standing up against injustices and being an all-around nice guy. It was no surprise when he won the student election last year and became Student Council president. It didn’t stop there though, because Steve Rogers also founded Culver’s ultimate Frisbee league (which had gotten extremely popular since its conception), was head of the LGBQT organization, and volunteered with the homeless shelters.

To put it succinctly, the guy was a saint.

He also happened to be fucking gorgeous and the university knew it too. It was rumoured that enrollment had jumped up 37% since they started using Steve Rogers’ picture. His face was all over the university promotional material. There were posters of him all over campus and on every brochure they handed out to high school students.

Everyone knew who Steve Rogers was.

In total, Bucky had only exchanged a handful of words with him in his five years at university. He had seen Steve during debates when he would argue fervently for his causes. Bucky admired that fire and determination in him. He doubted Steve Rogers even knew what his name was, but it didn’t stop Bucky from quietly admiring him from afar during those rare moments when he saw him.

---

Steve was glad he left before his face could start heating up. Although, by the time he reached the study table, everyone could see his flushed cheeks. Clint snickered and nudged Tony who gave Steve a look of disappointment.

“You didn’t get his number, did you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Steve said as he sat down.

“That’s a no. Pay up,” Clint said with his hand extended towards Tony.

“Damn it,” Tony sighed as he slid twenty dollars to Clint. “You promised, Steve,” he added with a little huff.

“I never promised anything,” Steve snapped.

“The whole point of going over there was so you could get his number so we don’t have to watch you pine over him anymore.”

“Is it that obvious?” he asked with a wince.     

“Yes!” Clint and Tony replied in unison. They looked at each other in pleased surprise and then high-fived.

Steve buried his hands in his face and groaned. He was so head over heels for Bucky Barnes, and clearly everyone knew about it. Well, everyone except Bucky who either didn’t know or didn’t care.

Steve finally looked at the random book he’d chosen. Agricultural Techniques of the 1800s. It looked like it hadn’t been opened in over thirty years. He wrinkled his nose and tossed it into the reshelving bin.

“Next time, you should ask him if he’s an overdue book because he’s got ‘fine’ written all over him,” Tony recommended with a salacious quirk of an eyebrow.

“I’m not going to take dating advice from you,” Steve snorted.

“I am wounded that you think I am not an expert on all things romantic,” Tony said, spreading his hands over his chest. “Actually, speaking of romantic, should I get Pepper the rabbit for Christmas?” He launched an excited description of the overlarge, stuffed animal he was considering for his girlfriend.

Steve gave a long, suffering sigh as he tuned out Tony’s inane chatter.

He couldn’t believe he’d let Tony talk him into actually going over there. He’d even convinced himself that he could do it. However, when he saw Bucky’s pale face and unfocused gaze, and Steve realized that he probably didn’t want someone bothering him while he was sick. His mind had gone blank and he’d barely stammered out an excuse before making a quick exit.

While his friends snickered, he closed up his books with a loud thump. He wasn’t going to get any studying done anyways, and, clearly, no one at the table was helping.

“Where are you going?” Clint asked.

“Pharmacy,” Steve called over his shoulder.

---

Two and a half hours later, when he finished his cart of books, Bucky went upstairs to the main floor of the library. His foul mood had only gotten worse when he’d come more than one shelf where it was obvious that someone had gone through it and then shoved the books haphazardly into the wrong spot.

In the staff room, he forgot that the singing snowman was motion-activated when he walked past it. He nearly threw the stupid thing against the wall.

“Don’t touch Frosty,” Sharon admonished when she walked in and found Bucky trying to find the off switch for the infuriating decoration.

“Hate this,” Bucky muttered between gritted teeth. He gave a loud sniff and resisted the urge to wipe his nose on his sleeve because that was gross.

“Here.” Sharon offered him a plastic bag with his name written in black, permanent marker. Inside, there were lozenges, six different kinds of cold medicine (both in syrup and tablet form), lotion-infused tissues, and several cans of chicken noodle soup.

“Is this from you?” he asked in confusion. While he and Sharon got along, they had only been working together for a few months. Sharon was his supervising manager and, technically, his boss. At most, their relationship was described as friendly workplace acquaintances.

“Someone put it through the book return,” she said without meeting his gaze.

None of the security seals on the items looked tampered with. On the back of the receipt, someone had written: Feel better soon.

Bucky searched through the names of possible people who would have left the care package for him, but no one came to mind. “Who would send me cold medicine?”

“Maybe it was a secret admirer,” Sharon suggested.

“You really didn’t see who it was?” he asked with a frown.

“No, not a clue,” she said unconvincingly as she refilled her mug.

“You’re a shit liar,” Bucky said without any real heat.

“Maybe someone is being extra nice,” she suggested. “You know, since it’s the season of giving and all that.”

“Yeah, but why me? Who would want to be nice to me?”

Sharon gave him a long, inscrutable look while she drank her coffee, but rather than answering him, she said, “If I were you, I would accept it.” She patted his arm reassuringly on her way out.

---

December 5

The first time he ever saw Bucky Barnes, Steve was still in high school.

It had been partway through his senior year, and Steve had narrowed down his list of post-secondary schools down to two possible choices: Culver or Empire State. He’d been leaning towards Empire State so that he could be closer to home, but Culver had the better Arts program. Faced with indecision, he and his mother had decided the visit both campuses before Steve made up his mind.

Little did he know that Bucky Barnes would be one of the campus tour guides during the Culver orientation. He had been a first year student at the time, but he navigated the campus like a pro. Steve didn’t remember much about the actual tour beyond Bucky’s blue eyes and smile that made his heart beat faster and his skin prickle. Even Steve’s mom had been charmed by Bucky’s animated chatter and enthusiasm.

During Steve’s first year at Culver, he saw Bucky around campus a couple of times. Steve never quite had the courage to approach him. Bucky was unsurprisingly popular and usually surrounded by his group of friends.

His second year though, fate seemed to be on Steve’s side. He was enrolled in the same class as Bucky, and Steve had spent the first part of the semester staring at the back of Bucky’s gorgeous head. It was Steve’s new favourite class until, partway through the term, Bucky stopped coming to class. Steve could only assume that he’d dropped the class.

Bucky disappeared from campus, and when he wasn’t back for the spring semester, Steve had the sinking feeling that Bucky had transferred schools altogether.

However, Bucky returned the following fall, but there was something different about him. The easygoing spark that had made him so charming was gone. Instead, he always had his shoulders hunched and his head down. It was like he wanted to be invisible.

“Steve,” a voice called, pulling him out of his reverie.

“Huh?” He turned to Natasha.

“I swear your attention is worse than a dog with a squirrel.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance.

“Sorry,” Steve apologized.

“Oh, leave him alone. He’s in Bucky-Watching mode,” Sam said without looking up away from his computer.

Steve leveled an unimpressed look towards him in an effort to remind him to lower his voice. Bucky was shelving in one of the aisles close to their table, and while he usually wore earphones while working, they seemed to be absent today.

They were supposed to be planning their Christmas staff party, and while Steve should have really been in his office, he’d dragged Natasha and Sam with him down to the library instead. His excuse was that the library was more convenient, but they all knew the real reason was so he could see Bucky.  

“Why haven’t you talked to him yet?” Natasha demanded.

“I have… once or twice.” Steve propped open his History textbook and hoped that she got the hint to leave the subject alone.

Natasha threw a side glance at Sam. “Help me out with this.”

Sam shrugged, his typing uninterrupted. “Hey, I’ve told him a hundred times, but if he wants to sigh at Tall, Dark, and Handsome over there like a teenager, I can’t do anything about it.”

“Fine,” she said with determination. “If you won’t talk to him, I’ll do it.” She stood up, and Steve practically dove across the table to stop her.

“No, Natasha! Don’t say anything,” Steve hissed. “I’m working on it, okay? It’s not that easy.”

Natasha seemed to sense his self-consciousness. Her expression softened a touch. “Start with a ‘hello’,” she suggested. She looked behind Steve and her eyes lit up. “Here he comes in this direction again.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea—” Steve started, but Natasha was refusing to have any of it.

“Go,” she hissed.

Steve swallowed nervously and started to walk over to where Bucky currently was.

---

Most days, Bucky blocked out distractions with his music, but his earphones finally gave out that morning. At work, he was starting to feel the tediousness set in. The only silver lining of the day was that Steve Rogers was back.

In fact, it seemed that Steve Rogers was in the library most days, but he was usually with his group of friends who tended to be loud and irritating, especially Tony Stark who’d never heard of the term “whisper” before. Bucky would have assumed that the president of the Student Government would have better places to hang out (not that Bucky was objecting at all).

Bucky resisted the nervous urge to run his hand through his hair. It was getting shaggy, and he should get it cut, but he hadn’t really gotten around to doing anything about it.

As he debated, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve headed his way. Bucky froze even though he knew that it was rather unlikely Steve was going to approach him. He was probably going to just walk by him.

Act casual, act casual, Bucky’s brain chanted.

“Brock has an emergency and can’t come in. Could you cover his shift?”

Bucky nearly dropped the book he was holding. He turned to glare at Sharon who standing on the other side of him. “Don’t you make noise when you move?”

“Sorry, I thought you heard me,” Sharon said apologetically. You’re not listening to music today.”

“Earphones broke,” Bucky grumbled. He could see Steve had stopped a short ways down the aisle and was intently studying a row of books.

“So, can you do it?” Sharon asked.

Bucky rolled his eyes. Brock was probably still hungover from yesterday and couldn’t be bothered to drag his ass out of bed today. “Fine,” he agreed because extra hours meant extra money.

After Sharon left, Bucky stood in the same spot, pretending to fix and organize the books while Steve continued to stay in his spot. After several moments, Steve finally pulled out the book he was looking for and returned back to this table.

A little later, when Bucky went back upstairs for another cart of books, Sharon flicked him a casual look, and said, “You got something else in the book drop.” He tipped her head towards the white, plastic bag sitting on her desk. His name was on the side in the same handwriting again.

Inside, there was a set of new earphones. They were the brand that was sold at the campus bookstore, but it was better anything Bucky had hoped for.

“You really didn’t get these for me?” he asked in confusion. Who else could have known about the headphones?

“No,” Sharon said, feigning disinterest and only succeeding for all of five seconds before she abandoned all pretenses. She sidled up to him. “Another package from your secret admirer?”

“Secret admirer sounds so sinister. Like I have a stalker.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Your Secret Santa, then.”

“I haven’t mentioned that my headphones are broken to anyone but you. Either you’re reporting to them or they’re following me.”

Sharon gave a snort and refused to answer Bucky. He slipped the earphones in his pocket, pleased to have his music back.

The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully, and after work, he didn’t even mind when Sharon had him fix the broken strand of Christmas lights on the entrance pillars.

---

December 11

The work Bucky had been putting off was finally catching up to him. Between his classes, work, and his independent study project for Abnormal Psychology, he hadn’t had much time for anything else. Thankfully, he was able to switch shifts with Gabe so that he could study for his Sociology final tomorrow.

Bucky had secluded himself in one of the library study rooms in hopes that it would help him focus. However, after two hours into his study session, he could feel himself nodding off. It didn’t help that he hadn’t slept well the night before and his textbook was absolutely boring.

Shaking himself, he headed to the library coffee shop to get the largest coffee they sold. He could feel his body crying out for the caffeine fix.

Unfortunately, when Bucky handed over his student card to pay, it was declined. “Try it again,” he said even though he knew it wasn’t going to go work. He’d forgotten to put more money onto his student account. He searched through his pockets for any loose change, realizing that he’d forgotten his wallet at home.

“Sorry,” he said when he came up empty. “I forgot my money.”

The cashier shot him a glare for wasting her time and started to pull the cup back across the counter when a familiar voice from behind Bucky spoke up.

“I’ll pay for it.”

It was Steve Rogers again.

“You really don’t have to,” Bucky stammered, feeling flustered.

“It’s not a problem,” Steve replied. After Steve ordered and paid, he handed Bucky the Styrofoam cup.

“I’ll pay you back,” Bucky promised.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a smile that made Bucky internally sigh. He must have been staring at Steve for too long because someone behind them interrupted loudly with a pointed cough.

After they got out of the way, Bucky gave an awkward laugh. “Well, um, thank you.”

“Any time,” Steve said softly. He gave a nod before he left, leaving Bucky grinning into his coffee.

He tried not to read too much into it. Steve would have probably done that for anyone. On the other hand, at least Bucky could say that, technically, Steve Rogers had bought him a drink.

---

December 13

Bucky hadn’t had time to eat since the banana and protein bar this morning. That had been ten hours ago, and tonight, he was stuck on the late shift.

It was unsurprisingly busy at the library. There was a late, year-end, library managers’ meeting which meant they were short staffed. Sharon needed help at the front desk and Bucky was the one who got roped into helping her.

After the sixth request for a specific textbook that no one had bothered to actually buy for an English class, Bucky was ready to pound his head against the counter.

“The library only has one copy of that textbook and it’s already checked out. No, I can’t demand that the person bring it back before it’s due. No, I can’t tell you who has it. No, you can’t photocopy it even if you track down that person.”

It was a gruelling two hours.

When Bucky had his ten minute break, he dashed to the cafeteria in hopes of getting food from one of the establishments that were still open. However, the lines were too long, and he had to settle for an overpriced bag of chips from the vending machine.

By 8 pm, the crowd in the library began to quiet. Sharon finally let Bucky leave the front desk to tackle his massive pile of shelving.

He only had another hour before he was done work for the evening, and Bucky figured that he could save the few extra bucks and just wait to eat at home. His stomach, on the other hand, decided it couldn’t wait and started to loudly protest.

It wasn’t too long later when Sharon made an unexpected appearance downstairs.

“Special delivery,” she said as she handed him a brown paper bag and a bottle of water. His name was printed neatly on the side, and there was a drawn picture of fruit with smiling faces. “Honestly, you could have told me that you needed to eat, you know. I would have let you go. I’m not a total tyrant.”

“Is that from—?”

“Your Secret Santa? Yes.”

“You’re still not going to tell me who it is?”

“Nope,” Sharon replied, popping the p. “Can’t.”

“But you expect me to eat food given to me by a stranger?”

“It’s perfectly safe,” Sharon said. “I wouldn’t give it to you unless I trusted him.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “So, it’s a ‘him’ and one of your friends?”

“Stop it,” she admonished in mock seriousness. “I’ve already said too much.”

“At least tell me it’s not Brock,” he pleaded

Sharon wrinkled her in disgust. “Ugh, no. Don’t you trust my judgement? Actually, wait, don’t answer that.” She left before Bucky could interrogate her further.

He curiously opened the bag, figuring that if Sharon wanted to get rid of him, there were easier ways than poisoning. Inside, there was a pre-packaged, ham sandwich and a container of hot soup from one of the fast food restaurants on campus. Biting into the sandwich, Bucky had to contain a groan at how delicious real food tasted.

As he finished off everything, he wondered who was considerate enough to notice that he was starving. He considered the people whom he’d talked to today or seen, but it still didn’t bring Bucky closer to having any clue who it was. Even the very talented but cryptic drawing on the side of the bag didn’t help. Still, he just got fed, so he wasn’t going to complain too much about it.

Someone was looking out for him. It was like having some weird fairy godmother.

“Thank you,” Bucky said aloud to the quiet library.

Then, as an afterthought, he added, “I wish for a million dollars.”

When he got no reply, Bucky crumpled up the wrappers and resumed his shelving.

---

December 15

“I’m sorry,” Becca said for the tenth time over the phone.

“No, it’s fine,” Bucky replied, keeping his tone light. “I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. Have a good time.” After he got off the phone with his sister, Bucky sat down on the bench and let out a slow exhale.

Becca wasn’t going to be around for Christmas again. She was going backpacking around Europe with some friends and wouldn’t be back until after New Year’s. Not that Bucky could blame her for missing Christmas for the second year in a row. It was always especially difficult this time of the year, especially for Becca. The anniversary of their parents’ death overshadowed the holidays, and there really was no home to come back to anymore. It was better that way. It wasn’t like Bucky had any real plans for Christmas.

His fingers were numb from the cold and he tried to warm them up by sticking his hands back into his pockets. He checked his watch and saw that he still had five more minutes before his break was over.

He was about to go back inside into the library building when a group of carolers caught Bucky’s attention. They were a group of volunteers who sang Christmas songs every year to raise money for the local food bank. Generally, Bucky found them annoying and usually avoided them, but he caught sight of Steve in the group

They started off with a rendition of the classic “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas”. Steve stood straight when he sang. Every now and then, he would look down at the carol booklet he was holding, probably to make sure he knew what verse to sing next. His eyes sparkled and his whole face lit up whenever someone stopped to listen for a minute or when someone gave the change from their pocket.

Bucky had a sudden desire to see one of those famous Steve Rogers smiles directed at him. He checked his pockets for any change and found a couple of quarters and dimes. It was probably less than a dollar altogether, but it was going to have to suffice.

Hesitantly, he shuffled up the group and dropped the coins into the donation can. Steve looked up at the jangling sound and made eye contact with him. Bucky’s presence seemed to surprise him as he started to cough. The tall, muscular blond on Steve’s left reached out to thump him a few times without pausing in his own caroling. It took Steve several minutes before he stopped, but his face was red and he looked slightly panicked.

Feeling self-conscious and unsure of what else to do, Bucky tucked his hands into his pockets and headed back inside.

---

December 17

Today, Bucky was stuck in the Oversize Collection.

Brock had called in “sick” again, leaving Bucky and the other shelving staff to pick up the slack. He’d been irritated at first, but after a while, he decided he didn’t mind it so much. It was much quieter than the rest of the library and there was significantly less traffic through the isolated corner.

That was ideal, especially when he didn’t want anyone to see that he was currently struggling with a mammoth of an atlas. If he were only an inch or two taller, he wouldn’t have to wrestle with putting it on the top shelf.

“Here,” someone interrupted from behind.

Bucky felt the heat of a broad chest press against his back momentarily as they reached over his head to push the book safely onto the shelf. He caught a whiff of clean laundry detergent mixed with something else masculine and satisfying.

He was surprised, when he turned around, to see Steve Rogers.

“Hi?”

“Uh, hi,” Steve said with a grin.

“Thanks for that. Helping me, that is. And for the coffee last time too. I owe you, but I don’t actually have any money on me right now.” Bucky could feel himself rambling, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Don’t worry about,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“I know,” Bucky said a touch too quickly. “I mean, everyone knows who you are. I’m Bucky.”

“I know,” Steve said with a smile, “you were in my American History class two years ago.

“Really?” Bucky said, slightly taken aback.

“You criticized the Sokovia Accords. I was really impressed by your argument about the restriction of basic human rights.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “I don’t remember you being in that class.”

“I was always late and sat in the back. I had a class in Carter Hall right before, and I could never quite make it in time.”

“Oh,” he said. He remembered that Coulson was tough, but he was known to give extended due dates to people who came regularly to class. Bucky had deliberately chosen a seat close the front where he was visible to the professor.

“Yeah, it’s too bad you weren’t there when we started talking about the MI-13 Acts. Suddenly everyone in the class had an opinion on that, and some of them were downright ignorant.” Then, almost shyly, Steve added, “It would have been interesting to hear what you would have said about that.”

“I withdrew from the class,” Bucky said tightly.

Steve nodded in understanding, but didn’t press for any more information. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

“My parents died, and I had to go home to take care of everything.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Steve sounded genuinely apologetic.

Bucky should have left it at that. It wasn’t like he was looking for sympathy from Steve, but maybe it was the combination of stress and sleep deprivation.

The pent up frustration came bubbling out of him, and in that moment, he just needed to tell someone.

“My sister doesn’t like to talk about the accident and pretends that it never happened. I’m the one stuck dealing with the lawyer and having to sell the house.” The words left his mouth before he could fully quite process what he was saying. He rubbed his eyes. “Sorry,” Bucky said with a weary sigh. “It’s dumb. You didn’t need to hear that from me. You don’t need me to treat you like you’re my psychiatrist. Ignore everything I said.”

He turned back to his cart of items, but Steve rested a hand gently on his arm to stop him. “It’s not dumb,” he said firmly. “My mom,” Steve paused, as if his words were difficult to say. “My mom passed away last year, so I get it. Sometimes, you just need someone to listen.”

Steve’s blue eyes would be forever seared into Bucky’s memory. He couldn’t look away. Finally, he gave a weak smile. “Thank you,” he finally managed, “and I’m sorry to hear about your mother.”

“If you need anything, I’m always here.”

Bucky swallowed thickly. “I should probably get back to work now.”

Steve seemed to reluctantly withdraw his hand. “Okay,” he said as he took a step back to give Bucky some room before he quietly left.

---

December 18

The look Sharon was currently giving Steve was something of a cross between amusement and annoyance.

“Please,” Steve wheedled.

“I’m busy,” she said with a sniff. “Take it to him yourself.” She kept her gaze firmly on the ordering catalogue in front of her, knowing that if she looked up into those pleading, blue eyes, she was going give in.

“Look, I even brought you a muffin this time! Banana nut! It’s your favourite.”

He pushed the muffin over the counter to her.

She tried to ignore it, but it was only a matter of minutes before her resolve broke.

“Okay, fine. I’ll deliver this to Bucky, but this is the last time. You’re going to have to either tell him how you feel or stop stalking him.” Sharon took an emphatic bite of the muffin. “And don’t tell me that you’re working on it either, because Natasha says that’s the line you’ve been feeding her for the last four years.”

“Can’t you two find something else to talk about other than me?” Steve sighed.

“Not when you make me your double agent.”

“You text me things about Bucky even when I don’t ask for it,” he defended.

“You’re welcome, by the way. You think I didn’t notice you rushing in here the other day when I told you his how amazing his ass looked in those jeans?

“Stop,” Steve groaned. Sharon was like an all-knowing hawk at her desk.

“All I’m saying is that you can’t make him fall in love with you if he doesn’t know it’s been you who’s been leaving him all this stuff.”

“I… I’m working on it,” Steve finally said, resorting to his default excuse. “Really.”

Sharon gave him a pointed look with a raised eyebrow which meant she didn’t believe him.”

“I talked to him for a bit yesterday,” he admitted with a shrug.

“What? And?”

“Nothing happened if that’s what you’re insinuating. I think he’s really stressed out though.”

“Aren’t we all?” Sharon snorted. “Where’s my mix CD?”

“I’m just trying to help,” he insisted. “Music always makes me feel better.”

“Uh huh,” she said sarcastically.

Part of him was seized in nervous anticipation. He hoped Bucky liked the playmix. After yesterday’s conversation, Steve had wanted to help, but found himself at a loss for ideas. It wasn’t until late at night when he was tapping along the beat of his music that the thought struck.

“Can you get this to him or not?” Steve sighed.

“I’ll get to him, but he’s getting suspicious, you know.”

“You haven’t said anything, have you?”

“No, but he knows that I know, and he keeps asking. His puppy eyes are almost as good as yours.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

She picked up the CD case and glanced at the playlist written out in Steve’s neat handwriting. “‘Letting Go of You’ by Howling Commandos? ‘Newspaper Shoes’ by The 1930s? ‘I’m Not Going to Fight You’ by The Triskelion? These songs are so depressing!”

“Not all of them. ‘Only the Good Stuff’ is kind of upbeat.”

“‘End of the Line’ is literally about a guy who’s in love with someone who doesn’t remember him.”

“Okay, maybe they’re mostly on the gloomy side, but they’re about picking yourself up when times get hard and moving on after grieving. Sometimes, you need to hear that in a song.”

“How do you even know he likes these songs?”

“I don’t. Well, not all of them. I saw him at the Winter Soldier show when they played in town last year. I tried to pick songs that were in the same genre.” Steve blushed under Sharon’s stare. “Is it too creepy?”

“It’s very middle school of you,” she said with a cheeky grin. “All you’re missing is his locker to put it into.”

“Sharon,” Steve tried warn. He could sense where this was headed, but she was already on a roll.

“—doodling ‘I love Bucky Barnes’ in hearts all over your notebook; cutting out his picture from the yearbook and taping it to your mirror…”

Sharon was still laughing when Steve when left.

---

December 19

“No,” Bucky said without elaboration.

The keen look on Sharon’s face faltered before being replaced by a furrowed expression. “Why not?”

Sighing, Bucky turned back to the shelf of books he was currently organizing. He ignored the CD case that was currently in her outstretched hand.

“I just can’t accept the stuff anymore, and you won’t tell me who it is, so…” He trailed off and shrugged.

Sharon put her hands on her hips. “It didn’t stop you from accepting the other times,” she pointed out.

“I know,” Bucky said. “And tell him, whoever this Secret Santa is, that I appreciate everything.”

“Then what’s the problem?” she demanded. Bucky didn’t answer her. He pushed his cart onto the next section of the library, but Sharon doggedly pursued him. “Oh, come on! What is it, really?”

“I can’t anymore,” he tried to explain exasperatedly. “I don’t even know who this guy is, and I don’t want to lead him on.”

“Is that all? It’s not like that. You don’t have to feel bad—”

“But I do!” he exclaimed. There was an angry shush from someone and Bucky glared angrily at them. When he turned back to Sharon, his expression was still dark.

Bucky felt bad for yelling, but Sharon couldn’t seem to understand the conflicted guilt he was experiencing. His Secret Santa obviously harbored feelings for him, but he couldn’t return the sentiment. It made him feel like he was deceitful in some way, accepting gifts from his Secret Santa but then turning around and wishing for Steve. After the conversation in the Oversize Collection the other day, Bucky hadn’t stopped thinking about him. He knew he didn’t have a chance in hell with someone like Steve, but it didn’t stop Bucky from pretending.

“I’m not interested, so stop trying to make it happen,” he said. Then, quietly, he added, “I’m sorry.”

Sharon looked down resignedly at the CD she was still holding. “He’s a great guy, Bucky. If you only gave him a chance.”

“I don’t think I can do that right now.”

“What am I supposed to tell him?” she sighed.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said tiredly. “Say that there’s already someone else.” It was technically true, but Bucky didn’t feel like sharing that with her at the moment.  

Sharon looked hurt, but she didn’t say another word when she brushed past Bucky.

---

December 21

“Library’s closing—oh! It’s you.”

Steve looked up at the familiar voice to see Bucky standing in the doorway of the study room.

“Sorry, we’re closing up,” Bucky said apologetically. His quicksilver grin made something in Steve’s chest flutter.  

He had to remind himself not to get his hopes up again. Steve should have known his plan was ridiculous from the very start. Sharon tried to let him down gently, but it still didn’t help the stinging disappointment when she had returned his last gift.

Steve was one of the last students headed out for the night. Behind him the lights of the library were slowly turned off one by one. The foyer, usually filled with people on the couches and chairs, was eerily empty.

In front of him, someone’s backpack gave way to heavy textbooks with a loud ripping sound. Papers, pens, and myriad of other items were scattered all over the carpeted floor. He bent down to help the girl pick up her stuff. As he reached for one of the notebooks, another hand grabbed it at the same time as him.

He looked to see that Bucky had hold of the other half of the scribbler. The corner of Bucky’s mouth quirked up, and Steve forgot to breathe for a second. He looked back down for another item to pick up. They wordlessly finished gathering the spilled contents. The girl thanked them both before hurriedly rushing off to the 24-hour Study Centre.

Alone, Steve found himself walking with Bucky towards the exit. He was at a loss for words so they walked in silence.

Bucky spoke up eventually. “So, uh, is Fear and Politics in the 21st Century any interesting?” He nodded to the textbook that Steve was carrying.

Glad for a neutral topic, Steve shook his head. “It actually started out pretty interesting. The original prof for the class, Fury, got sick or something, so they had Pierce come and teach the rest of it. Let’s just say that I’m glad the class is done. I just have to pass the final now.”

Bucky made a face that matched how Steve felt about the professor. “I took Eastern European Influences on Western History with Pierce last term. He was awful,” he agreed.

“Good to know I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

“At least he’s not as bad as Johann Schmidt. That guy is an egotistical maniac.” Bucky proceeded to do an exaggerated impression of the German professor that had Steve laughing until he couldn’t breathe.

When they got outside, they both paused. The cold was biting, especially since the sun had gone down hours ago. Steve didn’t want to leave yet. He was enjoying the unexpected warmth from the conversation, but he’d promised himself that he would be mature and let his crush on Bucky go. A lump formed in Steve’s throat at the thought.

“Well, I’m that way,” Bucky pointed in the opposite direction that Steve needed to go. He stuffed his hands into his coat pocket and shuffled his feet.

“I guess this is good night then,” Steve said politely.  

Bucky nodded, his expression turning unreadable. “Okay.”

Steve started to walk away.

“Wait,” Bucky called. Steve stopped and turned back around. “Don’t you have gloves?” He motioned to Steve’s bare hands, one of which were clenched tightly against the History textbook.

“I did, but then I lost them,” Steve admitted.

“Here.” Bucky pulled a pair of grey gloves from his pocket and handed them to Steve. “They’re a bit old, but they’ll do the trick.”

He stared at them in surprise. “I can’t—”

“Your hands will freeze. You need them more than me.”

When Steve still made no move to take the gloves, Bucky reached out and shoved them in his hand. Steve tried to ignore the thrill zipping through him at the contact.

“I still haven’t paid you back for that coffee, so we’ll call it even.” Bucky gave him a last, dazzling smile before he started walking away, completely missing the goofy look of exhilaration spreading on Steve’s face.

---

December 23

The few, last, unlucky students who had their final scheduled for Wednesday milled around the library in the morning. However, by the afternoon, the only people left in the library were the employees.

Bucky finished shelving early. He still had a couple more hours of his shift, so he headed upstairs. As he neared the front desk, he could see Sharon arguing with someone on the phone.

“I’m not doing it anymore,” she hissed before she hung up.

“You okay?” he asked.

Sharon jumped in shock. “Don’t sneak up on me,” she said when she recovered.

“Do you need any help? I’m all out of stuff to do.”

“No, but if you want to keep me company, feel free to.” She nodded to an empty stool. “I don’t know why we can’t close early. There’s still four more hours of this.”

They started talking, and Sharon was even nice to share her secret stash of chocolate and candy that she kept hidden under her desk. At some point, they got onto the topic of plans for Christmas. Sharon was going to visit her great aunt in New York before heading home to her parents.

What about you?” she asked. “Any plans?”

“Nah. Probably just watch Christmas movies and eat cookies on the couch.” Seeing her expression, Bucky added, “Hey, it’s not as depressing as it actually sounds.”

“I would have thought you’d be with your mystery guy.”

“What mystery guy?”

“I don’t know. You said there was someone else. I thought you had a boyfriend you don’t talk about because you’re embarrassed of us.” Sharon shrugged before biting into her chocolate Santa’s head.

Bucky sighed. “I don’t have a boyfriend. He’s…complicated.”

“Men usually are,” she reassured.

“I like him, really like him, but it’s never going to happen. He’s so out of my league.”

“Why? You’re an attractive guy. You’ve got great hair and your own bus pass. What else do gay men look for?”

“Thanks,” Bucky said dryly.

“Is it anyone I know? Maybe I can help.” Sharon perked up at the thought.

“I highly doubt it.”

“Oh, come on,” she pleaded. She waggled her eyebrows and even Bucky had to laugh.

“Okay, fine, but promise me you won’t make fun.”

“It’s not Brock, is it?” Sharon asked with a smirk.

Bucky almost choked on the jellybean he’d tossed in his mouth. “Are you kidding me? Seriously? No, it’s not Brock fucking Rumlow. Why would you even think that?”

“You’re always mad when he doesn’t come into work. I’m just assuming that it ruins your day if you don’t get to see him.” She batted her eyelashes innocently.

“Stop joking about that,” Bucky groaned. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I’m not telling you.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll stop.” Sharon immediately sobered up, but he could still see the glint mischievousness in her eyes.

Bucky gave her a skeptical look. He'd never admitted this out loud to anyone before, but he took a deep breath. “So, uh, well, it’s… Steve Rogers.”

Sharon stared at him with her mouth slightly widened. “You’re fucking kidding me,” she finally sputtered.

“I know it’s hopeless. You don’t have to rub it in, okay?” he grumbled.

“You’ve been crushing on Steve Rogers this whole time and didn’t tell me!?”

“Yell it a little louder. I don’t think the whole campus heard yet.”

“There’s no one here,” Sharon dismissed before returning to the topic at hand.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” She grabbed her phone and started to furiously text someone.

“I have to say that wasn’t exactly the reaction I was expecting,” Bucky said.

“I’m unpredictable,” she replied. “I have to go the bathroom. Sit right there and don’t move.”

Sharon dashed off before he could question her strange behaviour. Barely a minute later, the sound of the book drop being opened alerted Bucky’s attention. He jumped up when he saw a brown-wrapped package slide into the deposit box.

He picked up the small package slowly. His name was written on it in the same familiar handwriting as all the other gifts before it. It’s the last one, it said. He was torn between running out confront to his Secret Santa or waiting for Sharon to come back so that he could ask her to return it to them.

In the end, curiosity won, and Bucky tore open the paper to reveal a pair of well-made, black, wool gloves. He stared at them for several seconds, his mind struggling to connect the last dots. He dimly registered a roaring in his ears as he came to realization that the answer was in front of him the whole time.

He knew who it was.

---

Steve was almost out the door of the building.  He’d had his hand on the door handle when he heard someone call out his name.

“Steve!”

He froze as he realized who the voice belonged to.

“Steve,” Bucky said softer this time. It sounded like a plea.

This was it, he realized. Bucky knew.

Steve had hoped to get away without ever having to hear Bucky Barnes reject him, but now, it seemed it was inevitable. He tried to brace himself before he slowly turned around.

Bucky was still holding the gloves loosely in one hand. He took a step closer. “It was you,” he said breathlessly. He shook his head in disbelief. “This whole time.”

“Yes,” Steve replied because it was all he could say.

“Why?”

A million reasons ran through Steve’s mind in that instance: I wanted you to notice me; I’ve wanted you ever since I first saw you; I can’t stop thinking about you.  

“I wanted to help you.”

“So, why not just tell me?”

“I-I didn’t want to bother you.”

Bucky stared in what looked like disbelief. He took another step closer. “You’re not bothering me.”

“I’m not?” Steve asked haltingly.

He took another step closer. “No, you’re not.”

“But Sharon told me—” Steve broke off, but he didn’t need to fill in the rest of the words.

“No,” Bucky said.

“Oh.”

“It was you. It was always you,” Bucky repeated again, as if he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m not what you wanted, but I...”

I think I’ve been in love with you for the last four years.

Bucky took another step and then another one until they were toe to toe. Steve’s breathing had gotten shallow and he could hear the roar of his own quickened heartbeat.

“You’re exactly what I wanted.”

Steve wasn’t sure what those words meant, but he could feel that daring sliver of hope growing in him. Everything felt surreal, like he was in another dream.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Steve dimly registered that Bucky was leaning into him and pulling him down. Eventually, his brain caught up long enough for him to realize that Bucky was kissing him.

Bucky started to pull away, but Steve surged forward to press his own lips against Bucky’s. His hands, of their own volition, reached up to cradle Bucky’s jaw. His mouth opened, and after that, the world around them stopped existing.

---

December 24

“Steve?”

There was some muffled groaning from under the haphazard mess of sheets and blankets.

“Are you awake yet?”

“Sleep,” Steve said blearily.

Bucky didn’t blame him. Neither of them had gotten very much sleep the night before, but he wasn’t going to let a little sleep deprivation ruin the surprise he had planned for Steve.  

“Steve, it’s almost nine. We have to get up now.” Bucky got on the bed and tried to disentangle his boyfriend from the sheets, but Steve only curled up tighter. “If you don’t get up, you’ll miss your gift,” Bucky said as he leaned in.

“I thought you were my gift.” Steve poked his head out and rolled over with a smirk. He started pressing kisses up the column of Bucky’s neck, but the phone buzzing soon interrupted.

Bucky jumped up, his eyes lighting up when he read the message. “Steve! Get up! It’s here!”

“What’s here?” Steve finally sat up in bed, looking confused and rumpled. He was adorable, but Bucky was sure he would have gotten tackled if he said that out loud to Steve.

Bucky opened the front door and dragged in the cardboard box that was left on his step. For something that was supposed to be mini, it was deceptively heavy. He started to unpack it, trying not to shed fake, pine needles all over the place.

“Is that a Christmas tree?” Steve said from the doorway of the bedroom.

“Technically, yes.” It was Dum Dum’s parent’s old tree. It had shed most of its plastic needles and only came up to Bucky’s chest at full height, but it was the only thing he could find so last minute.

Bucky dove back into the bottom of the large box and came back up with packages of ornaments. He held one out to Steve. “Are you going to help me or what?”

“What is all this?” he asked with fond amusement.

“It’s orphan Christmas. You and me. We’re going to decorate this tree, and then after, we can make cookies, or build a snowman, or whatever Christmas-y thing you want to do.”

Steve gently wrapped his hand Bucky’s hands. “You don’t have to do this, you know?”

“I know, but I want do something for you. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve had someone to do this with.”

Steve’s eyes softened and a bittersweet smile appeared. “Thank you,” he whispered. He leaned forward to kiss Bucky slowly and sweetly. It didn’t take long before it turned into something much more heated.

“You’re…very…distracting,” Bucky moaned between kisses.

“Good. It’s working,” Steve said with a short laugh.

They didn’t get the Christmas tree set up until the afternoon, but Bucky was in too good of a mood to complain about anything.  

---

December 25

Bucky was adorable when he was asleep.

Steve studied Bucky’s face, or at least what was visible of it. He was nestled under layers of blankets while his head rested against Steve’s chest. He hadn’t moved in the last half hour, and judging by his slow, rhythmic breathing, Bucky had fallen asleep.

Steve really didn’t want to move, but he really had to use the bathroom. He tried to shift to alleviate the pressure on his bladder, but it was no use. Eventually, Steve couldn’t wait anymore, and tried to slip out of Bucky’s octopus grip. Bucky woke up and blinked sleepily at Steve. “Be right back,” Steve assured.

When he got back, Bucky was awake but slumped on the arm of the couch. He let Steve slip back under the warm blankets before he snuggled up again.

They resumed their movie, The Christmas Soldier. It was about a guy who woke up on Christmas morning to find out that he’d been granted one last day with the ghost of his best friend after he made a wish the night before.

Bucky had been scandalized to discover that Steve had never seen it. He had gone home to get his copy of the movie so that they could watch it together.

Steve had expected it to be like any other cheesy, holiday movie, but he actually started to tear up at the part when the protagonist was forced to say goodbye because their time was almost up.

“I thought this was supposed to be a heartwarming movie,” he sniffled.

“Shh, just keep watching,” Bucky said.

In the end, the two characters admitted their feelings for each other, and through the power of love and Christmas magic, they were reunited with a happy ending.

“Good, right?” Bucky’s voice was rough from being quiet for so long.

“I don’t think a Christmas movie should be allowed to make you cry.”

Bucky gave a short, delighted laugh. He checked the time on his phone. “You know, it’s past midnight. It’s technically Christmas,” he hummed with a smile.

“Merry Christmas,” Steve replied before kissing Bucky on the forehead.

They settled in to watch another movie, one that wasn’t quite a tearjerker. Before long, Steve could feel himself nodding off, the background singing of Christmas music and dialogue lulling him to sleep. His last conscious thought was the feel of Bucky’s arm wrapped tight around him and the distant murmur of,  “…love you,” before he drifted off.