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late-to-the-party-81 · 9 months

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Stockings hanging by the fire

AN: Ho ho ho - Merry Christmas in July! I was supposed to post this in March as a late Christmas present for my darling Tonje, but i forgot! Sorry @doasyoudesireandlive . Let’s also ignore the fact that Bucky didn’t ship out in December……

Beta’d by @yarnforbrains

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and Mood board by me

Masterlist

Summary: Decorating your rooms for Christmas wasn't going as well as planned. Luckily a dashing young soldier offers to help you out, and you aren't going to turn one of our brave boys away...

Relationship: 40’s Bucky x Reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

CW: Fluff and Flirting, Implied off-screen spicy time. 40’s Bucky in dress uniform cos he’s definitely a warning!

This was not going the way you’d anticipated. How hard was it to actually get a Christmas tree up the few brownstone steps and into your apartment? Apparently, very. You hefted it again, but to no avail. And to make matters worse, the small flurry of snow that had been swirling around when you’d set out was getting heavier, and the air getting sharper. Even the children who’d been making snowmen had abandoned them.

You let out another loud sigh, as opposed to the curse you wanted to. Mrs. Sweeny who lived upstairs (and was this minute looking out through her curtains at you while you struggled) already thought you were a good time girl, likely to end up in trouble, so you were trying to present a more demure and ladylike facade. But it was hard when you realised you were sweating like a preacher in a whore-house, and that the needles on the tree had scuffed up your favourite leather gloves. You’d give up, but that would mean that even apart from the fact it would mean abandoning your not so insignificant purchase where it currently lay, it would just present you with a different problem.

The tree was stuck. No going up and no going down. You loosened your grip and pinched the bridge of your nose, a litany of profanities circulating around your brain.

“Excuse me, doll… but you appear to be in need of assistance.”

A warm, syrupy voice made its way to your ears, and you looked up to find the source.

Well! Hello, Soldier!

He was obviously newly minted and fresh out of the box. His dress greens were wrinkle free, his hat perched jauntily on his head atop his Bryll-creamed chestnut hair. His eyes were light blue, sparkling with amusement, an expression matched by the lilt of his full pink lips.

Now, contrary to what Mrs Sweeny thought, you were no good-time girl. However, neither were you a missish maid. When you got an itch, you scratched it, but you were careful about it too. You had a good job as a receptionist, and you didn’t want to lose that just because you couldn’t keep your underthings in place. But looking at this nice looking Sergeant, you could feel that itch making itself known, and he looked like he’d know how to scratch it real good.

“You noticed, huh?” You leaned your hip against the railing, tipped your head to the side slightly and flashed him your most winning smile. “I think I bit off more than I could chew.”

“Well, I could always help you out. You know, if you want?” He’d stepped closer, but you were still slightly taller, being part way up the steps.

“Have a dashing young soldier assist me in my time of need? How is a girl supposed to say no to that?”

He flashed you a grin then, and how you didn’t swoon, you didn’t know.

“Don’t say no then, doll.”

He bent down then, and you were momentarily confused, until he hooked his arms under your nemesis the tree and hoisted it up onto his shoulder.

Wow!

“Lead on, sweetheart.”

You practically skipped up the last few steps, awkwardly pulling your keys out of your purse, before opening the front door to the building.

“Afraid I’m on the second floor, Sergeant….?” You trailed off, giving him the opportunity to give you his name.

“Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th. But my good friends call me Bucky.” Oh, he was smooth.

“Bucky, it is then.”

You led the way up the stairwell, somewhat in awe of how effortlessly Bucky was carrying your tree. When you reached your own door, you repeated your awkwardness with the keys, and gave the door - which had a tendency to stick - a sharp nudge with your shoulder. Removing your gloves and wondering how you were going to put right the damage done to them by the pine sap, you gestured to the tree stand you already had set up ready in front of your main window.

“Could you place it in that for me? I didn’t expect getting a tree to be this difficult.”

“Sure thing, doll.”

You took your coat off, hung it on the peg, along with your purse, took off your hat and quickly checked your hair and lipstick in the small vanity mirror by the door, while Bucky’s back was turned.

“So, is this your first Christmas on your own then?”

He threw the question over his shoulder as he tightened the screws on the tree stand around the rough trunk of the pine. You turned back around and leant your weight on your sideboard.

“Yup. Moved outta Ma and Pa’s three months back. Got this place for a steal and a job down at Montgomery’s as the receptionist. It’s a good gig. And you? Getting ready to ship out?”

Bucky stood, clapping his hands together and brushing off the lingering pieces of bark and needles on his green woollen pants.

“Sure am. Completed basic training. Got bumped up to Sergeant on account of my sharp-shooter skills. Catching the boat to England in two days.” He lifted his right hand up to his temple and gave you a salute. “Ready to serve, miss.”

There was an awkward silence then. He’d completed his chivalrous task, but it was clear from the tension in the air between you that neither of you were wanting this interaction to end, at least not yet. You moved away from the sideboard, walking closer to him. He stayed put, right where he was, not widening the gap between you but not closing it either. Open, but not pushy.

“Well thank you very much for your help, Sergeant. But I wondered, on account of how cold and snowy it is outside, whether I could offer you some hospitality in thanks. I could fix you a drink, and if you wanted, you could help me with the decorating. Ornaments and stockings and the such-like? I want to make this room my own personal winter wonderland.”

“A drink would be much appreciated, and spending even more time with a beautiful dame is not gonna be anything I’d turn down.”

“Least I can offer for one of our country’s brave boys.” You walked your fingers up the front of his buttoned jacket and made a display of straightening his tie, before turning and sauntering towards your little kitchenette. You pulled two glass tumblers out of your cupboard, and then moving to a second, retrieved your bottle of whisky. You saw Bucky’s eyebrow rise as you placed a healthy measure in each glass. You took a sip from yours, silently letting him know that you were no stranger to strong liquor, and then returned to his side, hips swinging.

He took the other glass from your hand, and you clinked them together.

“To festive cheer and new friends.”

“I can definitely drink to that, doll.”

Silence fell again as you both sipped your drinks, but it was less awkward and more electric, the previous tension now stronger and thrumming through your veins. You placed your near empty glass down on your coffee table.

“I hate to ask you for another favour, Bucky, but I wondered if you could light the fire for me. I’m just going to pop in the other room and get the things I need for decorating and what not…”

“Not a problem at all.” He placed his glass next to yours and walked round to your fireplace.

“The matches are on the mantle. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“I’ll be right here waiting, beautiful.”

Somehow you controlled yourself walking into your room, not giving away how excited you were. God, you hoped you were reading this right. Quickly you slipped out of your skirt and blouse, and gave yourself a quick wash under the arms from the jug of water you kept on your dresser. A spritz of perfume, a slick of lipstick and another primp of your hair and you were as ready as you were going to be. You took a deep breath and walked back out into your living room.

Bucky was kneeling in front of your fireplace, prodding at the big log he’d just put on to the burning kindling, trying to get it to catch. He’d removed his jacket and hat, the latter perching on top of the former that was folded over the arm of your slightly ratty sofa. You could see the play of the muscles of his back under his dress shirt, and imagined how they’d feel under your hands.

You walked closer until you stood right next to him. He turned his head and looked up at you, eyes wide as he took in your stocking covered legs, your satin french knickers and matching camisole.

“Are you still okay to help me with my stockings?” You lifted one foot and placed it on his knee. His hand gently captured your ankle and then slid up slowly, but surely up your thigh towards the fasteners.

“Those weren't the stockings I had in mind, doll, but I’m not gonna complain.”

And neither did you.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #sergeant barnes #40's Bucky #tis the season to be thot y #Christmas in july #late writes #bucky barnes x you

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