Steve's Diary

December 25, 1938

Dear Diary,

The years seem to be passing me by faster and faster by the second, I mean, is it even possible that it's already Christmas Day? It feels like it was only a few days ago that my mom was here celebrating Christmas with me and Bucky and Rebecca and their dad.

On a happier note, Bucky said he had a surprise planned out for us this year... planned out specifically for the season and this joyous time of year.

Why do I secretly wish there to be a mistletoe involved?

—————

I had gone out earlier on in the day to shop, mostly for canned goods, but there were some fresh ingredients on the list (much to my surprise). By the time I approached the apartment building, it had already begun to get dark... this was a not only a direct result of the early setting of the daily winter sun, but also because of the oncoming storm.

I really hoped it would start snowing before dinner so that I might be able to look out the windows and see the fluffy flurries fall. God, winter really is the best season (even if It means I have to struggle to breath though some of the coldest of temperatures).

I walk through the front door and almost drop everything, as I'm carrying five bags of groceries and it's not exactly simple doing that and trying to unlock a door. I struggle to walk past the door frame as my arms scream for help.

Yet my mood lightens as I'm hit with a beautiful aroma when the warm apartment air fills my nose. Its a succulent mix between the evergreen tree we bought last week (and decorated three days ago), a candle that smells like cinnamon and warm vanilla sugar, fresh cranberry sauce, roast beef, sautéed vegetables, mashed potatoes... who knew Bucky could cook so well.

I hear a spoon clatter against a pan or pot of some sort before I feel his warm hands rap around the bags and take a few of them away from me in order to help.

I can finally see, as the bags that had been blocking my vision before had been removed, and it looks so incredible in what used to be our humble abode. I glanced all around the room and wondered how he managed to set everything up so nicely in the short two hours I had been out grocery shopping. The main lights were off and there were white string lights plugged in that somehow managed to twinkle all around the room, a wreath on every door, a mistletoe at every archway, small candles placed randomly atop every surface, bushels of peppermint with pine cones and bowls of candy canes and starlight mints and peppermint sticks scattered across tabletops... there were even tiny wads of holly leaves and berries scattered throughout the room.

It looks like he really put in a lot of effort for the living and dining rooms to look so elegant, like they did. It all seemed so magical, like a fairytale one might put together to amuse a child yet, here I am, thinking it to be too good to be true.

"Do you like it?" He asked. I think I was zoned out, looking at the decorations in all of their magnificence because he was looking at me with this sort of 'far-out' kind of gaze.

"Like it?" I came back, focusing on his ocean eyes. "Bucky, this is- it's incredible, really. I never would have been able to pull something like this off. I'm completely amazed, I..." then I lost my train of thought again as I looked all around the room seemingly with a new set of eyes. It was like a forest of warmth and gentle darkness, like twilight, that was speckled by countless, distracting fireflies yet somehow managed to revolve around the brightest entity of them all, the moon. I was just lucky enough to have him all to myself.

I felt him looking at me. Don't smile at me, I simply won't be able to trust myself to look at you without melting if you do.

He sent me a tilted smile, "You... what?" He asked, knowing full well that I had just completely zoned out again.

"You know damn well what, Buck. I love it, really," I told him.

"Do you really mean that?"

"I do." I glanced over at the clock by the stove and it was 6:37, which meant that dinner was probably almost ready. I looked back over at him. "Wipe that dopey grin off your face," I told him, laughing and walking over to the kitchen.

Before I could make my way to the stove in order to sneak a taste of the food that smelled so incredibly good, he grabbed my arm.

"Steve-" he whispered, spinning me around to face him. We stopped in the doorway between the tile and wooded floors. I looked up at him in shock and before I even bothered to say anything that might have embarrassed me more, I glanced above him. I don't know what compelled me to do so, yet, seeing the mistletoe hanging there by a ribbon made my unwarranted emotions of unsureness to dissipate altogether.

His hands glided carefully up my arms and met the sides of my face, making me feel like I was liquefying between his palms. I felt my arms reach up and grab his sides... it's almost like I wasn't even in control of my actions when he had me ion his arms.

He pulled my face up to his and slowly opened his mouth, doing all the things he normally did when we kissed but slower. I grabbed onto him, like an embrace and refused to let go. He took in a deep breath of air and pulled his arms around my neck so that the heat emanating from his body might warm me up.

Our lips separated for a split second, like he was asking me indirectly whether or not I still wanted to kiss him... not like there's much of a question anyway.

I inched my way up to his soft, pink lips and kissed him again, not even attempting to increase the pace not one bit. We were both complacent with out sweet little moment as it was.

Eventually we both pulled back, just to look at the other. I felt a smile spread across my face as one crept onto his simultaneously.

"C'mon, we don't want the food to get cold," he whispered. he was right, so I backed away and headed towards the table.

I sat down as he started piling that looked like amazing food onto our plates. He walked over and placed one before me, I smiled, and he headed over to his side of the little wooden table.

We didn't say much, other than my comments on how incredible the food was and how I didn't expect him to be that good of a cook. I barely even looked up from the plate, except those few times I caught Bucky looking at me from across the way... It wasn't like his usual look, though. It was a sort of happy look; he looked like he was genuinely happy because I was.

It was... unusual, but certainly not unappreciated. I liked the change in pace, somehow.

—————

This thing between us feels like it's always been there, but like if you would have asked me about it I wouldn't have known or have even recognized it. Yet, here I am, seemingly all knowing that the lust that's usually written clearly across his face was gone... that i9t has changed into a very visible love.

I know this is something I've wanted from him ever since the get-go... ever since I realized I loved him. Now that it's here, though, I'm not so sure.

Okay, it's not that I don't want him to love me because Christ, that's always been a dream of mine. Of course, I love the fact that he's finally come to the realization that he loves me too... to the point, even, that he'll say it to me. That's all fine by me. Great, actually.

But... this? This incredibly obvious love that he shows me just by looking at me? That's just completely and utterly dangerous.

I just hope that, for our sake, this creation between us stays in this house and doesn't lash out as a beast before the whole of Brooklyn.

~ S. R.