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Steve leaned back in his desk chair and dragged his hands through his hair. He let his eyes drift away from his computer screen, focusing briefly on the bland office decor around him before landing on the coffee pot across the office. Maybe caffeine would help this exceptionally dull afternoon go by faster. He spared another glance at his monitor, where a hotdog wearing a disco outfit was saying “ Dance your buns off! ”, taunting him with beady eyes. He’d been illustrating this monstrosity for three days now. With one last grimace at the hotdog, he stood up and smoothed down his hair where it was sticking up, heading over to the coffee pot for a hit of that sweet, sweet caffeine.
Working for a giant greeting card company, a corporate hellscape of insincerity, was not how he’d imagined he’d be putting his fine arts degree to use. But it could be worse. ( Could it? Asked a vision of the hotdog, scrunching up its face) He was lucky to be working in illustration at all, and he’d really needed this job, given that he’d been fired from his last one for getting in a fight with the CEO about politics on Twitter. He’d been lucky to snag the position, and it was really only because of Tony. You could call it networking, but it had really been that he’d happened to run into Tony for the first time since college at a sketchy karaoke dive bar, both of them alone, and five drinks later Steve had an interview scheduled.
Steve was lifting his freshly brewed, steaming mug of coffee to his lips when none other than Tony Stark himself, enthusiastic karaoke singer of Bon Jovi, emerged from his private office, looking like he’d just woken up from a nap.
“Yessss,” he groaned, grabbing the coffee pot and taking a deep sniff. He reached for a mug off the counter (used? Clean? Steve wondered) and poured a cup, chugging half of it in one go before turning to Steve.
“Did you get the email?”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific.”
“The one about the holiday party. The only important one, obviously.”
“We’re having a holiday party?”
“Yeah, all offices have holiday parties, Steve. There’s usually drinking and food, bitching about the drinks and food, etcetera, etcetera but this year I finagled something very special. Had to really get on HR’s good side for this.”
“That must have been hard for you,” Steve muttered into his coffee.
Tony ignored him and raised his coffee mug in a dramatic toast with nobody. “We’re going ice skating!”
Steve was unimpressed. “Ice skating? For a party that’s not a ten year old’s birthday? Why?”
“Why? WHY?? It’s classy as fuck! Plus, Pepper, my beautiful, talented fiancee, as you may recall, is really good at figure skating and we’ve been a ton of times, so I want everyone to know how good we are and how cute we look skating together. That’s the main thing.”
Steve rolled his eyes. He hadn’t met Pepper yet, given that he and Tony had only been back in touch for a couple weeks. She didn’t sound at all like the type of person who he’d thought Tony would have ended up with, and he was intrigued enough to be looking forward to meeting her.
“What about you, Rogers? Ready to be shown up on the rink? I’m gonna be skating circles around your sad, single self...plus-one-less...and we all know you’re a klutz to boot.”
“Excuse you,” Steve spluttered in a surge of annoyance. He felt his jaw clench unconsciously. “How would you know anything about my ice skating skills or my relationship status? As far as I recall we haven’t discussed either of those topics at work, so maybe before you start triple lutzing to conclusions-”
“Okay, okay,” Tony held up his hands. “Just joshing! So you have a boyfriend?”
“Yep,” Steve said, the lie popping out of his mouth without hesitation. His brain stalled for a second, trying to catch up with his mouth. “And,” he said smugly, an idea - an ill-fated, dumbfuck idea - occurring to him. “He’s an excellent skater. We’ve also skated together a ton. Everyone says we’re really cute together.”
Neither of those statements was an out-and-out lie.
“Great,” Tony said, with a dangerous glint in his eye. “So I guess we’ll just have to see who’s a cuter, more talented couple at the holiday party.”
“I guess we will,” Steve said, hooking his thumbs in his belt buckle in what he hoped was a power pose. They held unblinking eye contact for a moment, both smiling insincere, devil-may-care smiles. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a hotdog to be drawing.” He poured the rest of the pot of coffee into his mug and marched back over to his corner. Tony looked around the office for somebody else to distract, and when everyone studiously avoided eye contact, he sighed dramatically and sauntered back into his office, shutting the door. Steve scrubbed his hands over his face again and resisted the urge to bang his head on his desk in front of all his coworkers. He pulled his phone out of his pocket instead.
Steve: hey buck
Bucky: hi
Bucky: why do i feel like youre about to ask me for a favor
Steve: godammit
Steve: do you have plans on saturday yet?
Bucky: nope
Steve: can we hang out at your house and skate?
Bucky: obviously!
Bucky: skating tho? Last i heard you hated ice skating
Steve: i’ve had a change of heart. Also may have gotten myself into a pickle
Steve: a Situation, even
Bucky: classic steve
Bucky: yeah come over in the morning, i’ll make us breakfast
Steve: :)
Saturday morning dawned crisp and bright, the perfect December morning. The thirty minute drive out to the mountains was pleasant, accompanied by his 40’s Christmas music playlist. The misty rolling hills were a sight for Steve’s sore city-dweller eyes. It had only been six months since Bucky had moved into the little cabin he’d inherited from his grandma, after finishing grad school in California. Steve, too, had been a bit adrift, finding himself unable or unwilling to settle too long in one place. But with Bucky here, finally in the same place again after too many years, things were starting to feel right. They’d fallen into a routine lately, Steve coming out on the weekends for some fresh air and to help with renovation projects, and Bucky staying over on Steve’s couch once or twice during the week when he had to be in the city for work. There was just one little problem, Steve thought, as he pulled into Bucky’s driveway and cut the engine, walking up to the front door. He pushed it open to see Bucky standing at the stove, wearing a thick, dark green sweater with the sleeve pushed up. His hair was a mess, he was wearing one of his grandma’s aprons, and Steve was deeply, head over heels in love with him. Enter Steve’s little (big, beefy-shouldered) problem. Because it had been six months, or 17 years, if you wanted to get technical, and Steve hadn’t said anything about his feelings.
Bucky turned around from the bacon, his frown melting into a smile at the sight of Steve. They hugged, as they usually did, the brief contact with Bucky’s broad shoulders under the soft sweater and his familiar smell over far too quickly for Steve.
“Do you want coffee?” Bucky asked, already pouring some into a lumpy handmade mug and handing it to Steve, who gratefully cupped his cold hands around it.
“Mmm, smells amazing in here, Buck. Thanks for cooking,” Steve said, pulling off his coat and boots.
“Gotta fortify before skating, you know,” Bucky said, opening the oven to poke at whatever was in there. Apparently satisfied, he pulled out the dish and set it on the table. He started piling bacon on a plate and Steve pulled out dishes and silverware, setting the table for them. They sat down. “This is like a baked egg thing with cheese and mushrooms, spinach...some other stuff,” Bucky said, dishing some out for himself. “I found the recipe online.”
“It’s delicious,” Steve said through a mouthful. Bucky had taken up cooking since moving into his grandma’s well-stocked kitchen, which meant Steve got to be his guinea pig. They ate their way through the eggs and the stack of bacon, catching up on each other’s weeks. Steve felt what he always did with Bucky, like an invisible tension he’d been holding inside himself was released, and he could finally relax. After the dishes had been done and they’d bundled up against the cold, Bucky finally asked about Steve’s “Situation”.
“So why are you suddenly interesting in skating on Grandma’s pond again? You were never much into it when we were little. You always wanted to go sledding instead, you adrenaline junkie.”
“You know Tony Stark? From my new job?” Steve asked, lacing up Bucky’s spare pair of skates.
“Nightmare facial hair, former rich douchebag frat bro, current rich douchebag greeting card executive, possibly with a heart of gold under all that, proceed.”
“We’re having our holiday party at work at an ice skating rink, because he wants to show off how good he and his girlfriend are. And he was going on and on about how they’ve been taking lessons and how cute they are, and he made a jab about how I was single-”
“Steve, “Bucky said, looking exasperated. “Please tell me you did not make up some fake Olympic figure skater boyfriend.”
“Well, not exactly.”
“What does that mean,” Bucky said, narrowing his eyes at Steve.
“I may have claimed to have a boyfriend who’s good at skating. And said he was coming to the party.”
Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and let the silence drag on as Steve turned red, fiddling with the ends of his laces.
“I was hoping you would be my fake boyfriend,” Steve muttered.
“Hmph,” Bucky said with pursed lips, clearly trying to hold back a smile. “It sounds like if I don’t agree to this, you’re in big trouble.” He stood up and Steve followed, wobbling a little on his blades. “Good thing I’m such a loyal friend,” Bucky said, breaking out into a grin.
Steve was seriously out of practice with skating, but after about 30 minutes and two ass-bruising falls, the rhythm started coming back to him. Bucky had had much more practice, coming out here to see his grandma frequently, and he’d dabbled in a bit of hockey while they were in middle school, which had given him a speed and grace on the ice that Steve could never hope to match up with, although he wasn’t a total klutz. “You’re too top heavy!” Bucky said, playfully poking Steve’s thighs with one gloved finger. “Been skipping leg day?”
“Obviously you haven’t,” Steve blurted out. Bucky just smirked at him in response.
They practiced skating arm in arm, making fake couple conversation and passive aggressively calling each other “sweetheart” and “babycakes”, their shoulders bumping together with each stroke of the blades. Eventually, they trudged back up to the cabin, noses pink with the cold. Steve had the odd feeling that neither of them had quite dropped the couple act as they sat next to each other on the couch, sipping spiked hot chocolate and watching one of the Christmas movies they’d loved as kids. The afternoon melted into a silver dusk outside the cabin. They cooked dinner, and Bucky pulled out the spare blankets and a pair of pajamas for Steve without a word. As Steve fell asleep on the couch, watching the embers in the fireplace glow, he let himself pretend it wasn’t an act at all.
The next week was busy at work for Steve, with the hotdog finished and a portfolio of new floral designs taking its place, due for review before the spring holidays. Tony took every opportunity possible to cross-examine Steve about his boyfriend, trying to catch him in a lie. Unfortunately for Tony, there wasn’t even any lying involved, since Steve knew the answer to all of his questions. (How had Bucky’s parents met? Synagogue. The same one Bucky and his family still attended. Favorite book? War of the Worlds. Cake or Pie? Ice cream. Preferred condom brand? Trojan. And not even a hint of a blush on that last one, Steve thought proudly.) He texted Bucky stupid jokes and memes under his desk whenever he could get away with it, and met up with Sam and Natasha for drinks on Wednesday. But still the week dragged on, Steve’s thoughts about his Bucky problem circling around and around like a rollercoaster stuck on an endless loop. Their weekend together at the cabin had felt more...intimate than usual. He couldn’t stop thinking about the lingering way Bucky had touched his arm when they’d parted, and then the roller coaster would freefall down a vertical drop, and he’d imagine banging Bucky like a screen door. And then he’d be back to how they’d washed dishes side by side like a 50’s sitcom couple. He was a big sap, okay? A swooning Jane Austen character in the body of a 200 pound man who daydreamed - literally, daydreaming! - about Bucky’s smile. And yet every time he thought about telling Bucky about his feelings and potentially fucking up their friendship, his stomach curdled. What a mess.
The following Saturday afternoon, the day of the party, the city was dusted with a fine layer of snow. Bucky showed right on time to Steve’s apartment with two pairs of skates slung over his shoulder by the laces and looking extremely handsome in a camel coat, a wine-red scarf tucked around his neck.
“Ready, boyfriend?” he asked as Steve opened the door. “Or should we go with partner? That sounds more adult, right? It just feels kinda weird to me though. Like what if people think we’re business partners?”
“Let’s just go with boyfriend,” Steve said, pulling on his own peacoat and shutting the door, locking it behind him as they started down the street. The party was only a short walk from his apartment. Every window along the street had a Christmas tree in it, twinkling and cozy behind the glass.
“Be careful, it’s icy,” Bucky said, linking his arm through Steve’s.
Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not 90 pounds anymore, Buck. I mean, dollface .”
“Just looking out for you, babe,” Bucky said sweetly. He leaned in and kissed Steve’s cheek, his warm lips brushing Steve’s cheekbone.
Steve froze, and Bucky drew back, biting his lip. “Sorry, I forgo- I was just practicing. For when we get there.” Bucky avoided Steve’s eyes and tucked his chin into his scarf.
A little tentatively, Steve unlinked his arm from Bucky’s and wrapped it around his waist. Bucky’s mouth curled up on one side, and Steve slid his hand into Bucky’s coat pocket. With a sudden swell of boldness, he kissed Bucky’s temple. “Practice,” he murmured, tucking a stray curl back into Bucky’s hair where it had fallen, “Makes perfect.”
Bucky met his eyes, the golden glow of the Christmas lights around them casting his face into a warm shadow. He didn't say anything, but he slid his hand into his pocket to rest in Steve’s larger, warmer one.
They arrived fashionably late to the party, held at one of the city’s outdoor rinks, which had been rented out for the evening. It was a surprisingly elegant set up, with lights string over the rink, and a cocktail bar and small tables set up under a cluster of heat lamps, where most of the employees were sitting and eating canapes.
Steve’s fellow illustrators called out to him as they entered, and he and Bucky headed over to their table.
“This is Bucky,” Steve said, letting them infer what they wanted from that. He let the artists introduce themselves, Bucky immediately winning them over, as usual.
“Wow, Steve,” Angela from marketing purred into his ear, coming over with glasses of mulled wine for them both. “You’ve got a serious case of the heart eyes.”
Steve laughed, a little too loudly, causing Bucky to look up with a slight crease in between his eyebrows. Steve smiled at him, and reassured, he went back to talking to Antonio about graphic design.
“Must be pretty serious,” she said, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.
Steve just nodded, taking a gulp of his wine and walking over to the edge of the rink to end the conversation before he started gushing feelings all over Angela. Bucky excused himself from the conversation and came to stand next to Steve, resting his hand on the small of Steve’s back.
There were a few people out on the ice, and Steve immediately spotted Tony, distinctive in a purple velvet blazer, skating leisurely with a tall strawberry blonde woman.
“There’s Tony,” he whispered to Bucky, pointing him out. “That fucker, he really does skate well. And Pepper is gorgeous.”
Tony spotted them watching and saluted, motioning for Pepper to do a basic spin, which she executed gracefully.
Bucky raised his eyebrows, looking simultaneously impressed and annoyed. “Oh, I see how it is. Wow, he really is insufferable, and I haven’t even met him yet. Jesus.” Steve tugged Bucky’s hand, dragging him over to the bench to start lacing up their skates.
“And is Pepper wearing white cashmere?” he continued. “What, is she not a mortal like the rest of us? How dare she pull that off.”
Steve noticed Bucky was unconsciously doing the same thing chin-jutting thing Steve did when he was being obstinate. He got distracted for a second, looking at Bucky’s chin with it’s perfect dimple.
“Are you ready?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded and hurriedly finished tying his laces, standing up.
“Time to show Tony Stark that WE, not him, are the cuter couple.” Steve paused for a second. “Wow, it sounds really dumb when I say it like that. I can’t believe I dragged you into something this stupid-”
“Shut up, I love being dragged into your stupid schemes. What would I do for entertainment out in the woods without you?”
They stepped onto the ice, the first couple steps stilted as always, before they found the motion and fell into an easy glide.
“Besides, Bucky said, reaching for Steve’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “I like being your fake boyfriend.” He didn’t look at Steve, letting their arms pull taut as he skated a little wider, then back in closer. “There’s just one thing I don’t like about it.” He circled around Steve so he was skating backwards, grabbing Steve’s other hand as well.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t want it to be fake. And I don’t think you do either.”
Steve’s feet stopped dead, skating forgotten. The top half of his body pitched forward, falling straight into Bucky, sending them both crashing to the ice.
Gravity reoriented for a second as Steve realized he was lying fully on top of Bucky, who had propped himself up on one elbow and was nervously watching Steve. Steve untangled one arm and cupped Bucky’s cheek, letting him read Steve’s response, plain as day on his face. A slow smile spread across his lips, and Steve leaned in and kissed him. Bucky returned it, enthusiastically, like Steve hadn’t been the only one thinking about doing this for every day of the last six months. Bucky’s mouth on Steve’s surpassed all of his daydreams, his lips urgent with pent-up tension, and yet somehow more gentle than he’d imagined. He traced his fingers along Bucky’s jaw and down his neck, and in response Bucky ran his hand through Steve’s hair, twisting his fingers in and pulling him even closer.
The sound of skates approaching broke them apart. Bucky made it back on his skates first, and
pulled Steve up as well. They stood there pink-faced grinning like loons, fast breaths forming clouds around them, brushing ice off each other’s coats. Steve ran his thumb along Bucky’s swollen bottom lip.
“You had some ice there,” he lied.
“Well, well, well. That was pretty fucking adorable,” Tony said. “Was that all planned out or…” he gestured between them.
Steve ignored him and pulled Bucky in under his arm, pressing another kiss on his lips. “This is my boyfriend, Bucky,” he said reverently, like it was the greatest thing he’d ever said and would ever say in his life.
“And my fiancee, Pepper.”
Pleasantries were exchanged, Bucky and Pepper discussed cashmere maintenance tips, Tony fumed silently, and Steve couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot. Eventually, someone shouted for them to skate or get off the ice. They were headed back to the bar when Steve felt a very, very cold hand squeeze his ass under his coat.
“I can think of somewhere else I’d rather be right now,” Bucky whispered into his ear from behind him.
Steve didn’t need to be told twice.