yourbestguysgun | → i'ma bleed a little poison out

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-- where: poly-chromatic

→ i'ma bleed a little poison out

[ Bucky's feed flickers on, the camera pointed up and above his head to where a sprig of mistletoe is sitting. He probably doesn't realise they're cursed right now, as evident from the laugh in his voice when he talks, the camera swinging back down to his amused and very smug grin. He's outside somewhere, wearing the scarf Steve's landlady had given him, tucked up under his chin. It's a little cold, but he doesn't seem bothered by it, too busy smirking. ]

Ah, my favourite part of the holiday season, ain't nobody allowed to say it different.

[ Really, he has no right to sound like a kid in a sweet shop, but there you go. He does, and he's not actually attempting to hide it. Mostly because he's an impossible charmer and he likes the ladies. ]

(( ooc: Posting and running for the daily activities but I knew I'd forget later. If you want to find Bucky and attack his face, please feel free. It can be as awkward as all hell too. Because I will laugh forever. ))

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[Steve looks slightly hesitant. It is not a good look for him]

I didn't want it to ruin anything.

Oh my god. Are you dumber than a ton of bricks, or what?

[ Swivelling in his stool. ] Rogers, you are more important to me than what a shitty curse makes you do. And okay, if you're freakin' out, then I'm sorry, and if it's gonna be awful for you, I can fuck off. But you ain't ruinin' anything for me. Okay? You're my best friend, that ain't changing for the world.

Not a ton of-

[This is the moment that the mistletoe decides it's had enough of waiting, because it grows, moss-like, above them, and Steve leans over because it is so easy and liplocks.

Best kiss of the day.]

[ Bucky inhales sharply, before he's leaning into Steve's space, a hand on his shoulder to try and balance himself. He's more on the ball this time, and it feels like such a good idea to just place his other hand on Steve's neck. ]

[Steve looks slightly happy and at the same time worried when they part, and he looks up. The bar is hooting at them.]

I guess sorry isn't really what I should say here.

Uh - [ Oh god, mostly he wants to escape the bar, not Steve, just the audience. ] You're throwing me off my game here.

[Steve reaches into his pocket and pays, because he has the same idea.]

Come on, Bucky.

[ He has never gotten off a stool faster before, Steve. Look, he's like speed of light. ]

[It's kind of cold out but Steve doesn't get cold easily anymore. His boots crunch the snow]

So.

[ Ooh, no. Cold takes the nice whiskey buzz off. Staring at his shoes as he walks, hands in his pocket. ] Uh.

People knew we were cursed.

[He means the people in the bar.]

That's good, ain't it?

[ Side-eyeing Steve. ] Y'worried?

[He shakes his head]

No, I'm not worried. People know.

[No one will hurt them, right? For being - Steve shuts that thought off right now]

[ Rounding his shoulders off, staring at the ground again. ] Plenty o' people are kissin' people they don't wanna be. Nobody's gonna hold it against you.

[Steve is silent for a second]

I'm not worried about me.

Then what are y'worried about?

You!

[The word is slightly explosive]

I'm worried about you, Bucky.

I can take care of myself. I don't get what the big deal is.

[Steve is worried about so many things and kissing Bucky felt good but it shouldn't, right? And he's thinking about Peggy and how good that felt and how he's kissed so many people today and going to war was so much easier.]

You're my best friend, I'm always worried about you.

Yeah, well. I kissed you, okay? If someone's got a problem with that, then they can damn sure take it up with me, I'll show 'em the business end of my boot. I'm not frightened, Steve.

You're never scared of anything.

[ Looking up. ] Why should I be?

[Heights. Trains. Steve being unable to catch him.

This kiss isn't motivated by mistletoe.]

[ Steve's gentle with it, that's what's struck Bucky all throughout this, and he feels tired and frayed and caught up in his own emotions. Kissing Steve feels right, somehow, and he's not drunk enough to be able to deal with that, eyes closed, face tipped towards him.

When they part, Bucky lets out a breath, the cold air billowing in steam. ] Jesus, let's get you home before you end up kissing me stupid. How the dame's don't flock to you I'll never know.

[ Nudging him. ]

[Steve nods, a little shaken, and he walks.]

I don't know how to talk to dames.

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[action] CAN I KEEP THE MISTLETOE?

[action] I KNOW RIGHT

[action] Bucky should cut a sprig up and keep it always.

[action] sob yes

[action] have it for fond memories of that time he didn't punch Steve

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