2.9K 103 51

"You have to— I'm pretty sure it's a law."

You were several feet too tall, looking down at Bucky from where you stood precariously on a chair you had dragged into the living room. The smug smile on your face made Bucky narrow his eyes.

"It's not a law," he grumbled as he reached for you. "Get down, you're gonna get hurt."

With a roll of blue painter's tape in one hand and a plastic green sprig in the other, you ignored Bucky as you used your teeth to tear off a piece of tape. "Mmm, pretty sure it is." You carefully stuck the piece of mistletoe to the ceiling. "If you stand under mistletoe and don't kiss, they can arrest you."

Bucky scowled at your playful bullheadedness, but it took everything in him to keep his mouth from turning upwards. It was Christmas Eve, and you had been scurrying around putting decorations out all day. You insisted you didn't want a tree— it would be too much to clean up while you two were also in the process of moving out, you said. The apartment was almost completely empty now, all packed up except for the furniture that didn't belong to him and some necessities. But now there were some haphazardly placed strings of fairy lights, too, and the plastic mistletoe that hardly resembled the plant it was supposed to be.

"Who can arr—"

You shrugged, but your retort was interrupted by a rustling in the kitchen. Your eyes widened, and you looked at Bucky, feigning fear. "Uh oh, we're gonna get in trouble— hurry—"

With a recklessness that would've been punished if Bucky's reflexes weren't so good, you leapt off the chair and into his arms. You wrapped yourself around him, and with a sideways smile, you pressed your lips to his.

Bucky would never get tired of that.

But just then, someone cleared their throat from the doorway, and Bucky pulled away. He turned around to find Sam standing at the edge of the living room, frowning. "Gross," he muttered, but a hint of a smile teased at the corners of his mouth. "Get a room, you two."

Bucky laughed, and you brushed a few mussed pieces of hair away from his face while he spoke. "We're getting several," he said with a cheeky grin that made Sam roll his eyes.

You hadn't found an apartment yet. You had talked Bucky out of moving to Brooklyn; it was expensive, and it was too far away from the compound for him to realistically travel between the two as often as he needed. Together, you made a list of a couple places nearby— some complexes in the next town over, a few houses that were closer but more rural. All that was left to do was go on some tours and make a decision, so apartment hunting was officially on hold until Bucky was finally free.

Just one more week.

"Aren't you supposed to put that in doorways?" Sam asked with a nod toward the mistletoe. You shrugged, and Bucky gently settled you down onto your feet.

"Wait, Sam, before you go—" You set the roll of tape down on the coffee table and hurried down the hall. When Sam glanced at Bucky, he shrugged. He didn't know what you were up to this time; he hardly ever did. After a moment you returned with a small gift box wrapped in colorful paper, and Bucky furrowed his brows when you passed it to Sam with a grin.

"Oho, what's this?" Sam asked, pleased. He turned the box over in his hands, examining it.

"What does it look like?" you said with a playful scoff. "It's from us. Open it."

Bucky gave you a sideways glance and tried to hide his confusion before Sam noticed. He didn't remember getting anything for Sam— only you and Steve. But now that he was thinking about it, he should have... he felt a twinge of guilt that was quickly replaced by immense gratitude for you. Sam's smile grew as he carefully tore the paper off.

Your Hands Have Made Some Good MistakesWhere stories live. Discover now