Chapter 16: The Arctic

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"Winter is not a season, it's an occupation." -Sinclair Lewis

***

"Leave it to Hydra to ruin Christmas Day for us."

Nightfall has come on December 25th and the newly engaged couple resides on the balcony sipping hot chocolate in their overcoats.

"Bucky, I know you're majorly pissed about this and all, but can you try and forget about it? At least until tomorrow." Harley tries to reason. "Then you can punch as many things as you want."

Bucky makes a sound of disapproval but nods nevertheless.

"I just don't think it's good to worry yourself," she continues. "We know where Steve is, we'll get to him and we'll save him because we're fucking awesome, okay?"

"Your confidence has always inspired me," Bucky says, watching snowflakes fall into her hair. "Now that I think about it, you're being a little too confident about this. Can you see the future?"

"Don't be silly, James. I'm just an overconfident optimist."

Bucky does an overview to see if she's being truthful. It's not that he doesn't trust her, he really does, it's just the assassin instincts kicking in. Sometimes he can't help them.

She looks normal to him, leaning against the railing with her mug in hand. He can't help but notice how well her overcoat fits her and the shape of her lips as she drinks from the reindeer-patterned mug. Snowflakes land in her dark hair and accent her long eyelashes before melting quickly. He grins to himself.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Harley asks with an amused grin on her face.

Bucky hides his smile by drinking more hot chocolate. "It just seems strange that you need a heavy coat out here."

"I am a bit warmer than comfortable," she admits, but shrugs. "I like this coat, though."

Bucky beams at her, watching her eyes scan the city lights and cars below, and sees disappointment in them, maybe because the sky is overcast, hiding the stars. "You're mine," he says in slight disbelief, more to himself than her. "Harley Conrose, my best friend since 19-whatever, is mine."

Harley leans into him with a smile. "People aren't objects, Bucky. I'm not yours, or Steve's, or Hydra's. I belong to no one but myself."

Bucky grins. "You're more like you every day. I love you."

"I love you, too. Let's go inside, your hands are like ice."

"They'll be fine as long as I'm touching you." Bucky hasn't felt like his old, old, self in a long time, and tonight it's finally coming back to the surface. It seems like the both of them are starting to feel like themselves again. It's a relief. "My lips are kind of cold too, y'know."

Harley takes his statement as an invitation and stands on her tip-toes to reach Bucky's mouth. He leans down, pushing Harley back on her heels and against the cold iron.

"I won't let you fall," he says, lips hovering just above hers.

"I dunno," she says doubtfully. "Last time you said that you flung us off of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters."

"Did I?" he mutters, placing small kisses against her jaw line.

"Mhmm."

Things heat up quickly, and the cold wind biting at their skin is no longer a nuisance.

***

Bucky wakes early, sensing something is wrong even in his sleep. He feels the spot next to him. No one's there.

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