With Tony's present finished, that left just Steve.

Bucky's eyebrows furrowed as he glanced down at the completely empty sheet. Steve's name was at the top, in a box, which he had given a 3D outline to and shaded the day after Steve had tried to teach him how to draw. It looked awful, but not nearly as bad as it felt to have no idea what to get his best friend.

He stared hard at the sheet, his entire face scrunching up with concentration, hoping he could will an idea to appear. After his forehead began to hurt, he relaxed his features and slammed the folder closed.

Maybe he was going about this all wrong. His last two presents, he had just tried to do something right for the gift's recipient and, in doing that, he'd discovered the perfect thing to do. So maybe prolonged exposure to Steve would somehow reveal an idea.

Bucky huffed out a long-suffering exhale and picked himself off the floor. He slid the folder under his mattress then walked into the front room where Steve was watching a World Series replay, blissfully oblivious to the raging snowstorm outside.

He looked so peaceful that Barnes stopped in his tracks—perhaps he could wait a few hours to subtly grill Steve about his present.

That decided, Bucky curled up in the loveseat, pulled a throw over himself, and settled in to watch the game as well.

Bucky and Natasha were sitting in the common room at the New Base four days later, eating popcorn and watching this year's latest space movie when Steve walked in. Bucky immediately knew something was wrong by the way Steve was breathing—uneven inhales that hitched slightly at the end, not at all like his usual breaths.

Before the former Soldier could move, Steve smiled warmly at him, then turned his focus to Natasha. "Nat?" he asked, a pained but pleading expression on his face.

Bucky's gaze immediately shot to Natasha who nodded. She handed Bucky her bowl of popcorn then wiped her hand off on her leggings.

"What's going on?" Bucky asked, seconds before Steve dropped to the floor, his limbs akimbo.

Barnes was on his feet in an instant, popcorn flying everywhere and his heart racing about a thousand miles an hour.

"S'okay, Buck," Steve mumbled into the carpet as Natasha knelt beside him, her knees pressing into his left lowest ribs. "My back just doesn't..." he grimaced as he exhaled, "...agree with the chairs in the new meeting room."

While he was saying this, Natasha was running her hands up and down his back as if performing a test of some sort. Then, she splayed her hands out over his lower ribs, the heels of her palms parallel to his spine. "Breathe in," she ordered. Steve followed her command and, as he exhaled, she drove her weight forward into her palms.

Barnes winced as he heard no less than eight ribs pop.

Steve practically melted into the carpet with relief but apparently Natasha wasn't done. She shimmied her hands higher up Steve's back and instructed him to breathe in again. This pattern continued until Natasha's hands were practically at the base of his neck.

While Steve was apparently unfazed by this, Barnes was struck by what an incredibly vulnerable position his friend was in. With one twist, Natasha would break his neck, paralyzing or even killing him. With one wrong push over his spine instead of around it, she could permanently incapacitate him. This was an incredible show of trust between the two of them, one Bucky wasn't quite sure he was ready for, even after all this time.

He watched as she pressed down one last time, earning two rib pops, then sat back on her heels. "How does that feel?" she asked.

"You're a miracle worker," Steve groaned, the lines of pain around his eyes gone. While Natasha stood up and wandered back to the couch, Rogers remained face-down on the carpet.

"Maybe you should—" Bucky began but was cut off by Steve flipping his head around without moving his shoulders and pointing at his friend.

"You're not buying new chairs for the conference room because I don't like them," Rogers stated.

Bucky made a face, trying to pretend that hadn't been what he was thinking. "That wasn't what I was going to say," he lied, waiting just a second too long to be believable.

"Buck, I don't need anything—Really."

Bucky stared hard at Steve, his mind racing to adjust to the turn this conversation had taken. He knew that keeping his gifts a secret was going to be tough but sometimes Steve was too oblivious for his own good. Barnes had been hoping this was one of those times. "Don't need anything for what?" he asked, the question sounding lame to his own ears.

Steve lifted himself into a plank, then walked his knees under him and knelt back on his haunches. Natasha watched keenly from her perch on the couch.

"I know about the list," Steve said slowly, "and, though I really appreciate it, I really don't need anything. You're back, the team is in one piece again, we have a new place to train, I'm set."

Bucky hated the way Steve looked so convinced that that was all he needed. Unable to think of what to say, he just stared at Rogers, trying to get his thoughts in order.

"I think you've broke him," Natasha commented after a moment.

"How do you not want a gift?" Bucky finally managed, his expression morphing into one of confusion.

Steve looked taken aback. "Well, because I don't need anything. And I don't want you to go out of your way to come up with something. I know how busy you are…"

Bucky kept staring at Steve in disbelief. "That's no excuse."

"I think you might just have to let him do it, Steve," Natasha said, picking up a magazine from the table and beginning to flip through it.

Rogers looked over at Barnes and must have seen Bucky's determined expression, for he let out a long sigh. "There's no way I can convince you to not do anything for me, is there?"

Bucky shook his head. For all Steve had done for him, he was getting a present, hopefully one that was as good as the others. He had no doubt Steve would love it anyway, as his friend was pretty much the walking epitome of "It's the thought that counts".

Steve shrugged resignedly. "Okay then. Just—"

"If you tell me to not put too much time into it, I will get Tony involved."

Steve dipped his head in acknowledgement. "—have fun, then, I guess," he finished, wincing as the words left his mouth.

Barnes smiled evilly, more to worry Steve than anything else. "Oh, I will."

Steve knew better than to mention it when a lumbar support appeared in his locker before the next meeting. He did however, make sure to recommend the brand to the rest of the meeting attendees when they walked out holding their aching backs, and to thank Barnes for the gift, even though Bucky pretended to not know what Steve was talking about.

From the icy wind stinging against his face, he knew he should be cold—freezing actually—but for some strange reason he was pleasantly warm.

Bucky looked around him and saw the snow falling softly, landing on already heaping piles of the stuff. He glanced down at himself and saw he was firmly bundled up in a thick jacket, mittens attached to the cuffs by a thin string.

"C'mon Barnes!" someone shouted. He spun around to see a gaggle of boys shoving show into a ball.

"Hurry or we're gonna hafta go home!" a second one cried, as he valiantly tried to mold the uncooperative fluff into a sphere.

Bucky turned to go with them, excited, but something was holding him back...something about this situation felt wrong.

For some unknown reason, he glanced up and saw a small boy standing in a third-story window, staring down at the scene. When he caught Bucky's attention, he waved, then doubled over in a fit of coughs.

Protective instincts kicked in and Bucky headed for the apartment complex but the kid straightened up and glared at Barnes, the look deadly even from that distance. The sick kid jabbed his finger into the window, pointing at the boys who had finally managed to get the bottom third of the snowman in shape.

Bucky looked back quickly enough to see the look of longing on the younger boy's face.

Barnes turned to look over at the boys, watching their youthful mirth, then walked back into the apartment complex, saying hello to an elderly man checking his mail as he did so. His feet carried him to the third floor where the scrawny kid met him at the door, wearing almost every article of clothing he owned.

"Whaddya doin' Buck? You're supposed to be playing with our friends," Steve scowled, dragging his arm underneath his runny nose.

Bucky just shrugged and began to peel off his layers. "It's too cold out there anyway."

A look passed over the kid's face before he nodded, then lead Bucky into the kitchen where the oven door was propped open.

"You'd better get warm then," he said, shoving Bucky into the spot right in front of the door.

Barnes wanted to argue, but somehow knew it was a lost cause. He sat right where Steve wanted but looped his arm around his friend's shoulder and pulled him close.

They sat like that, telling each other scary stories, until a blond woman, Sarah, Steve's mother, got home from her shift.

Bucky drifted lightly into consciousness, a welcome change from his usual jerk awakes, the warmth of that night still fresh in his mind. He glanced over at the clock on his nightstand and saw that it was 2:11 AM. Usually he was frustrated beyond belief at not being able to sleep through the night but this time, he found he didn't mind it as much.

He saw something flit behind the curtain and, after instinctively snagging his weapon, realized it was just snowflakes falling past his window.

Huh. He must have known snow was in the forecast. That's the only reason to explain his weird dream.

He laid back in bed, his arms crossed behind his head, and let himself sink back into the snow dream. He'd been an idiot back then, didn't truly appreciate what he had. What he wouldn't give to have another day like that, where his greatest fear was his next spelling test in Mrs—what was her name?...Jamison, yeah, that was it!—in Mrs. Jamison's class. Except the festivities would be more fun with a healthy Steve of course…

Wait!

His sleepy brain finally woke up enough for him to realize that was a possibility now, in the future where his friend was in peak condition: his lungs could handle the cold air, his bones the hard impact of the snow.

It took him another second to realize that this could be his present to Steve. His friend had been so sick as a kid that he had missed out on a lot of things other children had taken for granted. What Bucky could do was take Steve through a trip down memory lane, with Steve providing the memories of things he hadn't gotten to do, of course. As much progress as Bucky had made, he still didn't have all of his memories back, nor was anyone certain he ever would.

He considered this idea then shrugged to himself: he'd started other missions with much less of a plan.

He quickly pulled out his notebook and jotted down the dream before returning to his bed and pulling the covers up to his chin, his plan of action fresh in his mind: tomorrow, he and Steve would go outside and build a frickin' snowman.

He waited until lunch time when it would be the warmest before returning to his room and dressing in his full winter gear. He marched back out into common room of the new base and planted himself in front of Steve who was reading a book by one of the heating vents.

"What are you doing?" Rogers asked as he caught sight of Bucky's gear.

"What are we doing," Barnes corrected. "It's time for your present Rogers," he announced, foregoing the secrecy. "Get your warm stuff on."

But Steve just stood there, as if waiting for the punch line. Finally, Bucky could stand it no longer—they were wasting valuable time prolonging the inevitable—and made a shoo-ing motion with his hands.

"You're serious?" Steve realized. "Bucky, you hate the snow."

"I'm aware," he almost spat out. Then his expression softened, knowing Steve wouldn't be able to resist. "Would you just get your stuff on before I change my mind?"

Steve put down his book and nodded. "Alright." He said, grabbing the leather jacket that was slung over the back of the couch and shrugging it on.

"That's it?" Barnes couldn't help but question, his voice slightly higher than it should have been.

"The rest of my stuff is by the door." Steve shot him a strange look. "You sure you're up for this?"

Bucky nodded, forcing a smile onto his face. He had no misgivings about how difficult this was going to be but he was genuinely hoping that doing something positive for Rogers would somehow nullify the effects of the weather. Besides, it was the warmest it was going to get in the near future so it was basically now or never.

"Where exactly are we going?" Steve asked from the foyer as he yanked on a knit cap and gloves.

Bucky just pointed, not wanting to give enough away that Steve would change his mind before they even got outdoors.

Rogers looked like he wanted to ask for more but he just nodded and led the way down to the main floor and out the door. Bucky grimaced as the moment snow started to land against his exposed skin but forced a smile on his face: this wasn't about him, this was about giving Steve the snow experience he never had as a kid.

"What are we doing exactly?"

Bucky shrugged. From what he remembered, kids made snowmen or snow angels and had snowball fights and basically ran around until they were exhausted or had to go to the bathroom.

"We're out here to have fun. Like we used to." Bucky paused a moment. "Or like we would have done if you would have been healthier."

Steve turned around to stare at Bucky who quickly backpedalled. "We don't have to. I just thought it might be...well, fun," he trailed off, adding a half-shrug.

Rogers still hadn't spoken but unless Barnes was having a seizure, his expression was wobbling slightly. After a second, Steve huffed out a soft laugh. "Yeah, yeah Buck, that's be fun. What did you want to do first?"

Bucky plastered an overzealous grin on his face and began to kick snow into a pile. Rogers caught the drift and quickly leaned over, working the snow into a ball. Between the two of them, they managed to form the slush into a semi-decent sphere for the base.

Steve seemed to be having fun putting his artistic abilities to use but Bucky was becoming more and more irritated by the cold as it worked its way past his many layers and melted near his skin. He had been focusing on a particularly cold drop that was dripping down his spine when he felt something cold smash against his face.

He was in a metal case, screaming, cursing, spitting, his hands clawing at the small window. A round face appeared and Bucky's rage increased. He smashed his metal fist into the side of the case without any luck in getting it to warp.

"Zis will be much easier if you relax, Sargeant," the man stated, his 's's soft and drawn out.

Bucky responded with a phrase that would have gotten his mouth washed out as a kid.

He heard a small hiss and looked up to see a cloud descending on him. He dropped to the ground when he felt the cool air touch his scalp, burying his head into his elbow. He kicked at the base seams, trying to get them to give as the cloud descended. His lungs were burning but he refused to breathe in, not knowing what the gas was laced with.

"Resistance is futile," the voice said again. "But compliance will be rewarded."

Bucky replied with the same phrase as earlier, much to the man's chagrin, then buried his head deeper into his sleeve, preserving his last few drops of oxygen. Another minute passed by achingly slow, the man watching him intently as the tinted gas swirled around his body. Eventually his lungs began to burn and survival instincts took over. His grip slacked and he inhaled, the icy air driving straight into his lungs and spreading, stealing away any oxygen he'd hoped he could bring in.

And the cold only spread from there, radiating outwards, to his fingers, his toes, his brain.

Shit, I knew this was a bad idea

Cold...too cold.

Bucky, are you with me

He could feel his body shutting down system by system.

Bucky

He lost control over his limbs, his joints. Soon he couldn't move his legs or hips.

Bucky

It was almost back to his lungs now and he dreaded the feeling when they would stop, when he couldn't bring in any air, even this poisoned one.

A man screaming "Bucky!" at the top of his lungs was the last thing the Soldier heard before he lost consciousness.

When Barnes came back to himself, he was lying on his back on what felt like a couch, judging by the small split he felt right above his hips. Feigning unconsciousness as he'd learned to do many years ago, he twitched his wrists and ankles, not feeling any restraints wrapped around them.

"He's coming around," he heard a kind, familiar voice say.

That sounded like Bruce. Willing to give this situation the benefit of the doubt, Barnes opened his eyes to see a group of concerned faces peering over him, with less space between him and them than he would have liked. He jerked backward, startling both them and him, the force of his motion taking him part way up the armrest until he was in a pseudo-sitting position.

"Welcome back," Bruce, who was the first to recover, said, peering closely at him. "Do you know who you are?"

Bucky nodded, hunching his shoulders to ward off the phantom cold that still lingered. He pulled in a shaky inhale then responded, "James Buchanan Barnes."

Sam must have seen the motion for he grabbed a thick blanket off a chair and held it out to Barnes, who took it with hands that were meant to be steady but shook all the same. He wrapped it tightly around himself and breathed in deeply, letting the familiar scents ground him.

"Do you know who we are?" Bruce asked, motioning to the rest of the people huddled around him.

Bucky nodded again. "Avengers," he replied.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Base," Bucky managed before his body was wracked with a shiver.

Now it was Banner's turn to nod. "Do you remember what happened?" the physicist quietly continued, his hands out in what was meant to be a pacifying gesture.

"Outside in the snow," Bucky said slowly, grimacing as remnants of the flashback flew through his conscious again. "Building a snowman." A frickin' evil snowman. He mentally revoked any ideas he'd had about this being a good idea and slouched down on the sofa until his head was at the same level as his tented knees.

"After that?"

Bucky shook his head. "Back...at Hydra," was all he said, his teeth chattering anew. He didn't feel like elaborating and luckily they didn't press.

After a second, he stared more intently at the people surrounding him. "Where's Steve?"

Within seconds, he heard running and his friend appeared in the doorway, practically exuding stress from every pore. "I'm so sorry Bucky," he said as he moved closer at a breakneck speed, arms held wide.

Before they could make contact, Banner reached out and batted Steve's arms away, shooting him a look. Steve realized what he had done and stopped, arms dropping uselessly to his side.

Bucky carefully worked himself into a completely upright position then quickly readjusted the blankets so he wouldn't lose an ounce of body head. "Wasn't your fault," he mumbled to Steve.

Steve shook his head. "Yeah it was. I just got caught up in the moment and threw a snowball at you. I should have known better."

Natasha stepped closer to take a better look at Bucky. "What were you doing outside anyway?" she questioned, stealing the hat from Rogers' head and pulling it down over Bucky's.

Barnes had only a second to wonder where his own hat had gone, simultaneously being grateful for the new warmth around his head, before Rogers spoke up. "It was my present," he began. If Bucky's eyes weren't deceiving him, Rogers' baby blues were getting a little misty, as if he might actually cry. "Playing in the snow was never something I got to do as a kid for obvious reasons."

Natasha looked back at Barnes. "That was dumb," she said in Russian.

Bucky fired back a retort that his mother would have hated; fortunately Natasha just grinned. "But honorable," she added with a knowing smirk before she disappeared from the room.

Rogers quickly dropped to his knees in the space she had just vacated, concern etched deeply in his expression.

Bucky knew that emotion was there because of him and he hated it—hated that he'd reacted that way to a snowball and hated that it had made his friends worry. As upset as he was though, there was a small of him that knew he'd made it almost a year without a conscious incident so, all things considered, he was doing fairly well. Unfortunately, that part of his brain was quickly overrun with feelings brought on by an overwhelming outpouring of concern from his friends.

"I'm sorry I freaked out," Barnes mumbled into the knot of blanket corners huddled at his throat.

Steve's jaw clenched. "You don't ever have to be sorry for that," he vowed and the rest of the team nodded firmly.

After a pause, Steve opened his arms again, this time more slowly and predictably. "Permission to hug?" he asked without an ounce of sarcasm. A while back, Sam had instructed them all to respect the personal space of any member of a team coming out a flashback, knowing that physical contact wasn't always the answer no matter how good the intention. He'd also informed all of them that they, at any time, did in fact have the right to refuse if they weren't comfortable with the idea.

Bucky thought about it for a moment, then nodded. Steve smiled uneasily then wrapped his arms around his friend, pulling him close. Not caring at all what it looks like, Bucky buried his head against Steve's neck, feeling the rays of superwarmth radiating off his friend finally do some damage against the cold threatening to swallow him whole.

After a few long, wonderful moments, Steve pulled back just far enough so he could look Bucky in the eye. "Unless I can somehow talk you out of the presents brigade, I think we can safely eliminate any potential ideas that have to do with snow."

Bucky choked out a laugh then sat back against the couch. Natasha appeared at that same instant, a steaming cup of tea in her hand. She handed it off to him and he took a long pull of the piping hot liquid. "I'll think of something," he rasped, feeling the wonderful burn of warmth travel down his esophagus.

Steve rolled his eyes then sighed and pulled himself onto the couch beside Barnes.

"I don't doubt it."

Bucky took another long drink of tea and, when he looked up, he found everyone still staring at him.

"I'm fine," he growled but, not surprisingly, none of them looked convinced.

"You know what's gonna happen next, don't you Bucky?" Sam spoke up. Barnes shook his head acceptingly, remembering what had happened on the anniversary of Pietro's passing. The team had settled down in the common room, close enough to touch shoulders, and watched as many films and eaten as much junk food as possible. Sam had started the tradition, swearing it was guaranteed to muffle almost any blues. So far, he hadn't been wrong.

"JARVIS?" Steve asked the ceiling.

"Pizza is on its way."

"Good," Steve slouched down in his seat slightly, his shoulder never leaving Bucky's. "So, what do you want to watch?"

For his own mental health, Bucky put aside all Christmas-related things for the next week and focused solely on work. When he no longer felt panic begin to rise at the thought of cold, he cautiously reapproached Steve's present. Steve and Natasha had unfortunately been correct—prolonged time in the snow was still a little too much for him to handle. He was still convinced the overall idea wasn't bad though: giving Steve the chance to experience something he'd had missed out on as a child.

If he'd planned this better, there were lots of things they could do in the summertime: Coney Island (hopefully without the addition of the Vomit Comit), a baseball game, et cetera, but nooooo, he'd had to realize this idea in the middle of freakin' winter when nothing good was open...Did he already mention how much he hated the snow?

But, like he'd told Steve, he would think of something—from what he could remember, he'd always been a rather determined fellow. With that slight bit of assurance, he began looking up old restaurants they could have never afforded; unfortunately, the one that was still open had a wait list into next year. Disappointed, Bucky threw himself down on the couch and yanked a pillow over his eyes, pinning it in place with his metal arm.

This was a disaster. Maybe he should just give Steve a rain check until next spring when they could do all the things he'd thought of.

A few moments later, he heard footsteps approaching and knew from the flowery scent that it was Wanda.

"Can you breathe under there?" she asked when she had stepped into the room. Under the edge of the pillow, he could see her crouching down beside him.

"Yup," Bucky responded. He sighed then began to shrug himself into a sitting position, so they could have a proper conversation.

"Do not move on my account," Wanda said, flopping down on the floor beneath him and mimicking his position, throwing her arm over her eyes. "So what are you thinking about?"

"Steve." Despite her request, Bucky sat up fully and leaned forward so he could look at her. As if sensing this, she threw her arm off her face and propped herself up on her elbows.

"About his gift?"

Bucky knew better than to ask how she knew about that. Since Ultron, she'd been spending a lot of time overseas helping rebuild her city. She had only recently moved to the States and declared her desire to become an Avenger. They hadn't spent much time together as her time, like his had been, was spent passing SHIELD's proficiency exams.

"You heard about the snow incident," he stated.

It was her turn to nod. "It is a good idea though, giving him something he did not have."

Bucky was just quiet, not sure how to respond.

"However, I also think it might be good to do something new," she ventured slowly. "Most of the things I wanted to do as a child in Sokovia no longer exist. I had to make new memories there with new people. They do not replace the old, of course, but they were exciting all the same."

Bucky stared silently at her as he processed this information and she looked away, subconsciously, as if unsure if she had been right to speak up.

"I hadn't thought of that," he said slowly and she looked up in surprise.

"Thanks Wanda," he said, absently rolling back onto the couch, his mind swirling with possibilities. Instead of reliving all the things Steve had missed out on, they could focus on things the future offered that they never would have dreamed of. Given that Steve had been here longer though, Bucky was going to have to have his input before he drew out a plan—he didn't want to include things Steve had already accomplished.

"What is the phrase? Oh...no problem," she said the last part without her normal accent and Bucky chuckled. "I will leave you to your planning."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pull herself to her feet but, instead of walking away, she hesitated like she had some original purpose for coming in here.

"Do you need something?" he questioned, purposefully working to ensure the question didn't sound gruff. After all, she had just given him a major breakthrough in Steve's gift.

"Perhaps if you have time...you could help me with my small weapons training?" she asked shyly.

Bucky rolled his head to the right in order to look directly at her. "Sure."

She let out a sigh of relief. "Wonderful. I do not suppose we could start tomorrow? My examination is in two weeks."

"I'll see you on the range at nine," Bucky said.

As she smiled then walked away, Bucky pulled out his phone and immediately began to Google modern things to do in the surrounding area.

It was late when Steve walked back into their apartment a few days later. Juggling two gallons of milk, he managed to deposit his shield in the entryway before heading toward the kitchen, where he flipped the light switch with his elbow. He recoiled as he saw someone was sitting at the dining room table out of the corner of his eye and held up the milk gallons ready to use them as a club if necessary.

As he spun around, he recognized the man and slowly lowered the gallons. "Bucky?" he asked softly, seeing the pensive expression on his friend's face.

Now it was Bucky's turn to be startled as he snapped back to reality. "Hey Steve," he said, shaking his head quickly back and forth. "When did you get home?"

"Twenty seconds ago." Steve put down the gallons of milk and leaned forward slightly so he could better examine his friend. "Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"Good things," Bucky replied immediately, his eyes lighting up slightly in truth.

Now that he knew his friend hadn't been caught in the midst of another flashback, Steve walked into the kitchen and slid the milk into the fridge. "What's all that?" he asked, motioning with his elbow toward the papers Bucky had strewn out around him.

Bucky blinked at the mess then quickly shuffled the papers into one pile. He took a deep breath then said, "I want to talk to you about something."

Suspecting this was about his Christmas present, Steve walked over and sat down next to his friend. "Sure, what's up?"

Bucky's face darkened slightly then he muttered, "I think it's pretty obvious I don't know what to get you."

"I told you Buck," Steve began, reaching out and laying a hand on his friend's flesh shoulder. "I appreciate the thought but I don't need anything."

"I heard you the first time Rogers," Bucky scowled, "that's what's making this so difficult." He took another deep inhale then continued, "I thought it would be good for you to do something you weren't able to do in the past, like…" he shrugged with one shoulder, knowing Steve would know that he was referring to the snow incident. "But Wanda gave me a variation on that idea. Unfortunately, I'll need your help working out the exact details so it won't be a surprise." He looked over at Steve. "Is that okay?"

Steve quickly nodded, before this uncertain Bucky could read anything into a possible hesitation. "Sure, Buck. What did you have in mind?"

Bucky held out the sheath of papers. "These are a list of the things I found that weren't around when we were kids or would have been far too expensive for us to consider."

Steve began flipping through the pages seeing "sightseeing", "roller derby", "sushi", "football game", "wine and painting", "Cards Against Humanity", "concert", the names of a few restaurants or establishments that had been open back in their day, and more.

"Unfortunately, I don't know what all you've done before I got here," Bucky continued, looking down at the stack.

Without responding, Steve put down the sheets and disappeared into his room where he pulled a small notebook out of his running shorts. He walked back to a very confused Bucky and held out the booklet.

Barnes accepted it cautiously and began flipping through it, realization dawning very quickly. "You've been keeping a list too?"

Steve sat back down and nodded. "Every time someone tells me I need to do, see, or listen to something, I write it down."

When Bucky hit the last page, he glanced up. "There's not a lot crossed off here, Rogers," he stated, his voice tinted with an accusation.

Steve just shrugged. "I've been busy."

For some reason, Bucky looked almost disappointed with that answer. A second later though, the expression was gone, replaced by one of thoughtful contemplation. "So my original thought was that we pick a few of these and try them out."

"Just to be clear," Steve interlaced his fingers and rested his hands on the table, leaning forward slightly. "My present is to spend the day with you exploring the wonders of the future."

Bucky nodded firmly but then looked uncomfortable. "Is that okay? Cos I can think of something else—"

"Bucky," Steve interjected, a genuine smile on his lips. "I think that's fantastic."

They spent the next hour sorting through Bucky's notebook and Steve's list. Eventually, they settled on two items: a Nets game and sushi.

The first one had been relatively easy enough to decide. When they were young, their entire focus had been on baseball and they'd never even tried to get into another major sporting event. Given that it was the wrong season for baseball (and that the Dodgers had betrayed them and moved to LA), they'd settled on a basketball game because 1) it was indoors, 2) they both knew enough about basketball to make the game enjoyable and 3) the team was local.

Unlike the other presents, this one was going to cost Barnes a bit of money, which was technically mission incompatible, but he figured that was alright in this case since, if Rogers were to be believed, just spending some quality time with him was the actual present. However, given all that he'd done for Bucky, the former assassin wanted the gift to be more than than just a regular night at home watching movies. Steve had offered to pay for his ticket but Bucky had steadfastly refused, citing that if he did so, Steve would have to let him pay rent. That had ended the discussion almost instantly.

Trying sushi had caused much more deliberation.

"Sushi's been on your list for an awfully long time," Bucky had commented, paging again through the notebook to cross-check with his own sheets.

Steve had just shrugged. "To be honest, the idea of eating raw fish isn't real appealing to me."

Bucky had immediately moved cross off the offending item but Steve caught his hand. "Which is why we should try it. Branch out, you know? It can't be that bad if everyone keeps raving about it."

Bucky still wasn't quite convinced that Steve was really onboard with this idea but he decided to give his friend the benefit of the doubt. "Okay then, sushi it is."

Once the "what" had been decided, they moved on to the "when". It turned out that the Nets didn't have many home games in early winter so they'd have to go the first Sunday in December. It was an early afternoon game so they'd have plenty of time to get sushi afterwards. They'd scoped out the restaurants around the Barclays Center and found a sushi place close by with high reviews.

With all that settled, all they had to do was wait for the weekend. The week seemed to go on for forever but eventually it was Sunday, December 2nd. The men left their apartment around one o'clock and caught the subway to the center. They had to go through security once they got to the Center but, with Bucky wearing the holoskin, they were able to pass it off as a metal bone replacement. Besides, his stress levels were immensely lowered by Rogers who looked as excited as Bucky felt.

On the way to their seats, they passed a concession stand and Bucky had to rub his eyes to make sure he was reading the prices right. "Do you see that?" he gaped when he was able to get his mouth working. As he was turning to have Steve verify that there were in fact two digits before the decimal point of most of the prices, a large popcorn, a hotdog and a drink were shoved into his hands.

"When in Rome," Steve said with a wide grin.

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, both the cost and the fact that Steve had bought it, but Steve just shook his head. "We're here for the full experience," he retorted as he inhaled a handful of the buttery popcorn. Seconds later, his eyes widened and he dove for his straw, taking a long pull of soda. "No matter how salty some of the experience may be," he finished with a cough.

After grabbing extra napkins, they maneuvered their way to their section, Bucky vainly trying to avoid into bumping into anyone in the crowd while not spilling his concessions. After that, they had to be just as focused on getting to the middle of the aisle without accidentally sitting on anyone. Needless to say, Bucky was more than a little grateful when they finally dropped into their seats and had their drinks settled in the cup holders. As the deep focus began to subside, he was able to look around and realize their seats were pretty decent, considering how late they'd been purchased: they were in the bottom section just over halfway back, catty-corner to one of the hoops.

Steve and Bucky sat in an amicable silence, munching on their concessions, while the teams warmed up. Today, the Nets were playing the Phoenix Suns and the announcer had the gall to tell them the current temperature in Phoenix. It was warm enough there to make Bucky seriously consider a move.

"What he isn't mentioning is that Phoenix also averages 106 in July," the woman behind them snorted.

Bucky really wasn't seeing how that was a problem: a triple-digit temperature sounded pretty good to him at the moment.

Just then the announcer came on the air and informed them of the playing of the National Anthem. Both he and Steve removed their caps and stood, while listening to a high school a capella choir perform beautifully.

When they had finished, the starting line-up for the Suns was announced, then the arena was plunged into blackness, lights dancing around the seats as the Nets lineup was proudly proclaimed. If anyone noticed how four arm rests were dented during the surprise blackout, they knew better than to mention it.

After the tip off, time flew in a mix of fouls, picks, rebounds, turnovers, and a Hail Mary three-pointer for the Nets to win the game, 83-81.

"Well what did you think?" Bucky asked as they joined the mob shuffling out of their seats.

"Not as relaxing as baseball," Rogers said, stretching his hands over his head, "but fun all the same."

Bucky steadfastly agreed.

When they finally got out of the Center, they walked around the right side of the building until they hit a crosswalk then followed the road down to the sushi place.

Unfortunately the restaurant was very busy. While they waited in line, the hostess walked by and handed them a copy of the menu, in order to speed up the table turnover. Bucky personally was full of overpriced popcorn and other concessions so he wasn't particularly hungry. He glanced right and saw a similar expression on Steve's face, his face slightly green at the prospect of more food.

"You sure about this, Steve?" Bucky asked.

Rogers met his gaze then shook his head. "No."

"Let's just go then," Barnes said, vacating his spot in line, handing the menu to the people who had stepped in behind them.

They'd walked back a block before Steve said, "Wait, Bucky, it's too early to go home."

"We didn't have anything else planned, Steve."

Rogers just grinned. "We'll make it up as we go along." He pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped on it with the special gloves Tony had designed years ago and never mass-produced because the board had been convinced they were useless. "Gimme a minute."

Barnes waited as he was asked, though he bounced on his heels and rubbed his hands up and down his arms in an attempt to signal that a change of plans outdoors in the middle of New York in December probably wasn't the best of ideas.

Thankfully, it was only seconds later that a wicked grin broke over Steve's face. "I have just the thing."

"I don't like where this is headed," Bucky countered.

"Trust me," Rogers said and, as much as he sometimes didn't want to, Bucky did.

They walked two blocks deeper into the city before Steve stopped dead in his tracks. "This is it!" he exclaimed, pointing to the sign in the front of the closest establishment. Bucky followed the gesture with his eyes and shook his head wildly when he saw the sign.

"No."

Steve nodded. "Yes."

"No," Bucky repeated more insistently. He didn't remember much about his childhood but unfortunately he was stuck with a crystal clear memory of the screeching that had passed as singing from a pre-serum Steve.

"Yes!" Steve shot back.

"It's a terrible idea."

"It's a great idea and it's something we've never done before. Natasha and Clint swear by it."

Dammit, Rogers had a point. "You really want to go in there?" Bucky asked, really hoping Steve would say no but, of course, his friend just nodded.

"We don't have to stay for very long…" Rogers was quick to offer.

Bucky rolled his eyes then nodded. "Fine," he quietly grumbled.

Steve grinned widely then lead the way into the karaoke bar.

The man on stage was just finishing up a pop song Bucky was only vaguely familiar with as he and Steve wandered around until they found an empty table.

"So how does this work?" Bucky asked as he sat down and shed his outer coat in the extreme warmth of the bar. Perhaps this wouldn't be so terrible after all.

Steve shrugged. "I have no idea." He held up his hand when a woman dressed in all black wearing a small apron tied around her hips walked by. "Hi," he said, shooting her his most winning smile. "We're new here. How do we—?"

"When the mic is free, just tell Ed what you want to sing," she thumbed over her shoulder at the man hunched over in front of a computer. "There's a binder floating around with the options."

"Great, thanks!"

It took them a few moments to find said binder and about ten after that for the people using it to make their own decisions.

Bucky found his selection almost immediately but then flipped to a new page when Steve tried to see what it was. Bucky still wasn't too keen on this idea but if it was what Steve really wanted to do, he could find it in himself to embarrass himself in front of a room full of people.

Rogers made a face but then took the binder and paged intently through it while a woman nailed a cover of 'How Will I Know?'. His face lit up as he found a worth option but, just as Bucky had done, slammed the binder closed before his friend could see what it was.

When the mic was free, Bucky tilted his head at Steve. "You first."

Steve shrugged. "All right," he said as he walked over to Ed and asked for his selection. The man sighed disinterested but tapped on the keyboard and pointed at the mic when he was done.

"For the third time tonight, 'Don't Stop Believing'," Ed announced into his own mic as Steve walked on stage. Rogers immediately looked flustered and his face turned a slight shade of red. "I didn't know you'd played it already," he said to Ed, clamping his hand over the microphone. "I can change it."

"Too late," Ed grunted as the opening bars sounded from the speakers. Rogers looked so unsure that Bucky had to fight down the urge to knock some manners into the emcee. Instead, he channeled all his emotion into a death glare that Ed unfortunately never saw.

"Bucky," Steve hissed. Barnes tore his gaze away to shrug at his friend, knowing Steve was going to ask what he should do.

"Just sing," he shouted to be heard over the music.

Steve nodded, still looking uncertain, but did begin to sing. Bucky just about fell out of his chair in surprise: his friend was not only on key, but on pitch and didn't sound completely terrible.

The other people in the room who had been casually paying attention, mostly just waiting for Steve to be done so they could sing their own songs, began tuning in intently, one even pulling out their phone to film Steve.

When the song was over, there was more than the smattering of applause that Bucky had heard for some of the other singers. Someone from the corner even whooped loudly.

Steve just smiled then hopped off the stage.

"When did you learn to sing?" Bucky demanded as soon as Steve sat down, his cheeks now flushed with excitement, not embarrassment.

"The serum apparently fixed my messed-up vocal cords," Steve responded brightly, running a scale for good measure.

"All this time you've known you can sing like that?"

Steve shrugged. "It all sounded good to me, even back in the day. But Nat overheard me once when I was waiting for the new recruits to show up—in my defense, I thought I was alone. She's the one who said I wasn't half bad."

Bucky shook his head at his friend. "That's not fair."

Now it was Steve's turn to look surprised. "What do you mean? You always had the better voice."

"Yeah, because my competition was zilch." Bucky shook his head. "Okay, you've had your fun. Let's go."

"C'mon Buck, don't be like that. Sing at least the one you picked out."

"I'm not going to sound like you just did, Rogers."

"It's not a competition Buck. It's just supposed to be fun."

"Embarrassing myself in front of a roomful of strangers isn't going to be fun," Bucky retorted hotly, suddenly over this whole idea. It would have been different if they would have been terrible together but now that Steve had shown he really could sing, there was no incentive for Bucky to go up there with his absolutely terrible pop selection.

"Just one song," Steve begged. "Please?" And the little bastard proceeded to make the face he knew Bucky had never been able to resist.

Dammit all.

Cursing under his breath, Bucky marched up to where Ed was sitting and said, "'Firework'," in one blast of air.

"Excuse me?" the man replied, actually looking away from his computer to make eye contact with Bucky.

"'Firework'. Katy Perry. You have it?"

"I do." The man slowly moved his mouse, clicked on the selection and dragged it into the queue. "You're up next," he said in the same tone one would use to humor a crotchety octogenarian.

Barnes hauled himself onto the stage and looked directly at Steve. "If you laugh at me, I will never speak to you again."

Steve nodded solemnly as the opening bars of his song started. Bucky got a few snickers but quickly shut them down with the glare he'd been saving for Ed.

When he too was finished (thankfully Ed had picked an abbreviated version), he climbed down from the stage and over to Steve who was clapping slowly.

"Not bad at all Bucky," Steve said, a wide grin on his face and Bucky groaned, knowing that this wasn't going to go away anytime soon. "I'm surprised you were able to hit all of those notes."

"Consider that your Christmas present paid in full," Bucky mumbled as he stormed out of the bar. Steve threw down a few bucks as tip for the waitress who'd brought them waters then quickly followed.

"You could have just led with that," he said offhandedly as they headed toward the subway.

Bucky stopped in his tracks. "You're saying you didn't like the game!"

Steve was quick to respond, "I loved the game, really. Basketball sure has changed a lot from what I remember...but..."

"Here we go again," Barnes mumbled, turning away and picking up the pace toward the station.

"...it had nothing on your performance in there," Rogers continued undeterred.

"Okay, we're done talking."

Steve took the hint and stopped...until they got just outside the stairway, where he grabbed Bucky's arm and turned him so they were facing each other.

"Seriously," Steve began, "I had a great time today, trying new things, spending time with you outside of SHIELD. It was a lot of fun—I can't thank you enough."

"You're welcome," Bucky replied sourly, the karaoke experience still present in his mind.

"But you know you didn't have to do any of that. I meant what I said last week. You coming back here, wanting to be part of my life again, that's the greatest present the future had to offer."

Bucky honestly didn't know how to respond around the lump in his throat, his resentment about the karaoke instantly drying up. Recognizing this, Steve just slung at arm over his friend's shoulder, pulling him close.

And suddenly Bucky found he didn't mind the snow so much, the cold wind against his face. He was filled with a warmth that started deep within his chest, a warmth he'd worked hard to regain, a warmth that wasn't going to be put out anytime soon. In that moment, he was struck by the revelation that he'd done the unthinkable—he'd turned his back on his Hydra training and built a new family who accepted him for what he'd done and supported him in his future.

No matter what he did, with these people around him, he knew he would always have a home.

Epilogue 1

Even though his gift to Steve was technically completed, Bucky still didn't like how there had been something on the original list they hadn't accomplished. Therefore, two weeks later, he coerced his friend into trying sushi for lunch. This time though, he was prepared: he'd already asked Clint and Natasha who were apparently quite the sushi connoisseurs what would be good for newcomers to try. It'd taken them about a day, but they'd eventually come back with not only a list but also a specific restaurant and time to go. Apparently the food was discounted during something called a "Happy Hour" which meant they could try more things for their dime...or dollar, given the incredible inflation he still wasn't quite used to.

"Are you sure about this Buck?" Steve questioned for the umpteenth, as they stood outside the restaurant window, reading the menu taped to the glass.

"Yes. We're trying something new, Rogers," he announced as he grabbed Steve's wrist and marched into the restaurant.

They were seated at a two-person table in the back Bucky didn't think anything of it until he overheard the hostess giggling fiendishly with her coworkers, shooting them occasional, swift glances.

He turned back to Steve who has holding his menu gingerly, like it might explode.

"Steve, you're kinda sucking the fun out of this. I can try this later by myself."

Rogers had the decency to look ashamed. "I'm sorry Buck. I'm still just a little concerned."

"If it wasn't safe, they wouldn't feed it to you."

Just then the waitress, a lovely girl named Nia, came by and took their drink orders. Before she could leave, Bucky announced, "we're ready," and pulled the list from his pocket. He was sure he mispronounced at least four of the things but the waitress just politely corrected him before scurrying off.

"You're right," Steve said, forcing a smile onto his face. It was faker than Bucky would have liked but it would suffice for now.

They chatted about their week until Nia returned with their food. Bucky tried one of each with no reservations, truly enjoying the different flavors, textures and spices. Steve did the same but with a little more hesitancy.

"You don't like it, do you?" Bucky asked, shoving another piece of maki into his mouth.

Steve shrugged indifferently. "It's alright, just not—"

Before he could finish, Nia stopped by their table again and dropped off another dish.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Steve began.

"Yes?" she said, spinning back around to face them.

"We didn't order this."

The woman nodded. "I know. It's covered."

"By whom?"

Suddenly both their phones buzzed. They looked down to see a text from Natasha with three words: Just try it.

Steve and Bucky instantly scanned the restaurant seeing no one matching Natasha's build in sight. "How did she know?" Steve hissed to his friend.

Their phones buzzed again: Don't ask questions, Rogers. Just eat it.

"Do you need anything else?" Nia asked, unfazed by the display in front of her.

"I guess not. Thanks," Bucky said, fixing her with a wide grin.

"Well?" he said, turning back to Steve.

His friend shrugged resignedly then popped a section of the new roll into his mouth. His eyes widened and he sat slightly more upright. "That's really good!" he declared, excitedly going back for another.

"What is it?" Bucky asked the ceiling.

Las Vegas roll. All cooked. Deep-fried. came the texted response a few second later.

He raised his hand and Nia walked by on her next round. "What can I do for you?"

"Another Las Vegas roll," Bucky said, given that Steve had already almost demolished the first one. "Actually better make that two."

"Of course, sir," Nia said, scribbling it down on their ticket.

"Did you want to try one?" Steve asked, motioning toward the last piece of the Las Vegas roll.

Bucky shook his head. "Nah, I've got the rest of this," he said, motioning to the plates that Rogers had rejected.

They both cleaned their plates in a manner that would have made their Depression-era mothers proud. Before they left half an hour later though, Bucky made sure to note which of the sushi items he'd loved, so he could add them to his ever-growing list of things he really, really liked about the future.

Epilogue 2 (by request!)

Bucky was sitting in the common room of Avengers Tower the morning of December 23rd, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. Once again, the Avengers were celebrating Christmas early so some of them could spend the actual holiday with their real families.

He was flipping through the channels, settling on the 25 Days of Christmas movie marathon on ABC Family when the entire team walked in, dressed in their winter gear.

"Get your stuff," Clint ordered, grabbing the remote and flicking off the television. "We're going out."

Bucky stared questioningly at Steve who just nodded, his eyes closing slightly, reassuring Bucky that this was going to be a good thing. After a brief hesitation, Barnes climbed to his feet and pulled on an assortment of winter gear, probably more than he actually needed. Much to the team's credit, they chose not to comment on it.

The team took the elevator down to the basement where they climbed into a SI car, driven by none other than Happy Hogan.

"Merry Christmas!" he declared as they all climbed in, a crooked elf's hat with a mistletoe pompom on his head.

"And to you too," Natasha replied for the team, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

"Where exactly are we going?" Barnes asked, interrupting the scene.

"It's a surprise," they all said, almost in unison.

Bucky scowled, knowing that they all knew he didn't like surprises. Sam reached over and tapped the back of his hand. "It'll be fine, don't worry."

Ten minutes later, Happy pulled the car to a stop and Bucky scrubbed his gloved hand against the foggy window to reveal a coffee shop.

"We have coffee back at the tower," he stated.

"Yes, we do," Tony commented as he climbed out of the car. The rest of the team followed suit and hurried into the small shop.

As Bucky walked through the door, he heard a woman gasp. "Bucky?" a familiar voice questioned.

Barnes spun around, his gaze landing on an elderly woman. He recognized the shape of her face, the slant of her eyes, the curl of her now-white hair.

"Rebecca?" he asked, his voice breaking in his throat.

Suddenly she was next to him wrapping her arms around him, crying into his shoulder. "I thought I'd never see you again."

On the verge of tears himself, Bucky looked over at the team. "How? Why?"

Surprisingly, it was Tony who spoke up. "All you did for us this last year—it was too much. So we wanted you to have something you gave us: an experience, a meeting, something lost from your past."

Unable to find words, Bucky just nodded, wrapping his arms tighter around his sister. "Thank you," she said to the team, on both of their behalf.

"We'll leave you two alone," Steve said after a moment.

Still locked in their embrace, the siblings heard the bell ding as the Avengers filed out of the coffee shop, leaving Bucky alone with his sister.

After over seventy years of being apart, they'd have quite a lot to talk about.

And that, as they say, is that. Thanks for sticking with us on this incredible journey. We both were blown away by your wonderful support.

Also, we know 'Don't Stop Believing' is a rather cliche karaoke song (please forgive us) but we were going for a reference to another Chris Evans character.

We all hope you have a wonderful day and enjoy the Civil War which we are headed off to see now. Here's hoping we all survive this movie!

EDIT July 18th: We've posted a series of deleted scenes/flashbacks/prequel scenes from our first draft of this fic where Natasha, Clint and Coulson go out of their way to welcome Bucky to life outside of Hydra. It's called 'Acts of Kindness' and can be found on my profile, if you're interested!