[photo of hat found at relenafanel,
art by ellebeesknees,
both excerpted from larger posts]
Steve shuffled his toes in the slippers he was wearing and smothered a sigh. The thick fake fur lining felt soft and warm against his toes, the fire crackling in the fireplace prickled heat against his skin, but for as warm as he was it wasn’t touching the cold pit of regret in his heart that he was alone.
Free cabin! Tony said. Well more like a chalet to the common folk? Do you and the boyf want to get cozy?
Steve and the boyf did indeed want to get cozy in a remote cabin that their Brooklynite asses considered to be a chalet, thank you very much Tony Stark. Just for that they were totally going to fuck in places Tony Stark held sacred, like his work area and probably his bed.
That was the plan, anyway. What happened was Steve drove up two days early to open the place up because apparently that was the kind of vernacular rich people used to mean ‘watch as hired help cleans a place and turns the heat up and stocks the kitchen’ instead of meaning Steve was supposed to do it. Bucky wasn’t able to get off work until the Saturday.
Steve didn’t particularly mind having a nice chalet with a hot tub and a fridge full of food for himself.
At least until the blizzard started.
So there he was in a remote mountain-side chalet, alone, reading a history book he wasn’t enjoying, and regretting all the sex he wasn’t having because his boyfriend hadn’t gotten out of the city on time to beat the snow.
On New Years Eve.
Bucky: I think the people in town laughed at me
Bucky: Does Stark employ them?
Bucky: He never did like me very much.
Bucky: You know I’d move worlds for your ass but it’s really fucking cold babe
Bucky: Is there champagne? I hate champagne but it seems proper
Bucky: Is there beer to wash down the champagne?
Bucky: I wonder if champagne tastes better on your skin
Bucky: I just got a room for the night. Pretty sure I’m still being laughed at.
Bucky: In the morning I will hire some village people with one of those trucks with a plow mounted on the front grill to bring me to you.
Bucky: Talk about a sweet custom grill job aaaaayyeeeee
Bucky: Ain’t getting all up in that grill.
Bucky: Ok I’m done
Bucky: I miss you.
Steve: I miss you too
Steve: *dirty selfie*
And that was the last thing he heard from Bucky. The asshole had probably fallen asleep or went somewhere to eat and forgot his phone while Steve was isolated in a gorgeous chalet and so bored he couldn’t even maintain a boner.
He was considering going to bed when there was a knock on the door. Steve squinted across the room towards it and figured it was probably the wind? Did wildlife knock? He was pretty sure they didn’t but he’d watched some YouTube videos about smart bears once and that was about the extent of his knowledge on the subject.
When it happened again he figured it was probably the caretaker or some poor dumbass who had gotten lost in the woods and went to open the door, only to come face to face with someone who had to be the stupidest piece of shit on the planet.
Otherwise known as Steve’s boyfriend. Looking sheepish and frozen.
“What the fuck!” Steve asked, taking in the huge puffer jacket. “Are you wearing a hat?”
“It’s cold out, you dick!” Bucky said.
“You don’t even own a hat!”
“Why are you stuck on the hat?” Bucky asked, pushing past him. “I just walked up a mountain in a blizzard to get to you,” he said, arms wide. Snow was clinging to every surface of him and most of it dislodged and fell to the floor. “It’s romantic.”
“It’s stupid.”
“It’s stupidly romantic.”
“It’s just stupid. Pretty sure. Did you rob a local for his winter gear?”
“He sold it to me fair and square,” Bucky replied with a sulk as he peeled himself out of it. “And then told me I was going to die. I told him so long as I was still climbing the mountain I was going in the right direction. I took survivalist skills at inner-city camp.”
Steve stared at him.
“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “I’m a stupid piece of shit, but it’s romantic too, right?”
“I think I want to kill you myself,” Steve told him, unimpressed. He then yelped as Bucky put his chilly hands on Steve’s hips.
“Warm me, Stevie!” Bucky said cheerfully. “Like we’re in a sexy romance novel set on the prairies.”
“I’m definitely going to kill you myself.”
Bucky was outright grinning as he tried tugging Steve’s sweater over his head. “Sex first though, right?”
“Yeah. But then murder.”
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