A Christmas Carol

Bucky sighs again from his perch on the kitchen counter. He hates, absolutely hates, his father's Christmas party. George has them every year and Bucky has always grumbled and groaned about attending.

Well, not always. They were fun when they were just a family thing when the Barnes' were too poor and humbled to have a big grand thing. He remembered when they would invite his Nana and grandpa, his cousins and aunts and uncles and they would celebrate Christmas together. But ever since his dad's career took off and Bucky's been getting more and more attention as a singer, they got rich and moved to the richer part of Brooklyn where dad hosted his parties every year, and every year forgot about Christmas as a family.

What sucked the most about these parties (besides the fact that he's being ignored by his dad) is that he doesn't have any friends. All his friends were back at home, at his old home, his old school, and he hasn't been able to make any real friends now. Either everyone wants him for his money, for his looks or body, or because he's famous. He spends these parties all alone because of that, and miserable.

Bucky hops off the counter with one last sigh and heads up the stairs to his room. Everyone knows not to come up there and his dad looks too preoccupied with one of his coworkers to notice.

His room was huge, bigger than the dingy room they had at their old house. It has all the important things he needs. Bed, dresser, desk, closet, and some of his newly acquired stuff like his piano, guitar, microphone, radio, his book collection, and for some reason, a fireplace. There are some perks to being rich.

The bored brunet was about to go read a book and turn on the radio when a series of loud bangs are heard outside his window. He looks out of it in alarm but smiles when he sees it's only Steve.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't completely telling the truth when he says he has no friends. He has one, named Stevie, and technically, they're not even supposed to be friends. Something about his dad and Steve's mom being business rivals, which means they must hate each other. But instead, he and Steve had quickly grown attached.

They met a few years ago when he stepped in after seeing Steve being bullied. He vowed to watch the blond's back, even after he yelled at Buky for intervening. They have been close friends ever since, and Steve never once changed his attitude about him or cared about his fame. Honestly, he's the greatest best friend Bucky has ever had, and maybe, just maybe, his crush- not that Bucky will admit that to anyone.

Bucky eagerly unlocks his window and sticks his head out, shivering a little at the brisk air he's met with.

"What are you doing here?" He yells down with a grin. "Don't you have a toy shop to work at little elf?"

"Oh shut up!" Steve yell's back. "I'm not that short, I'm almost average height!"

"Mhm," he hums, not playing along. "Go around back, I'll let you in," Bucky tells him, and races down the stairs. He pushes through the sea of people and opens the back door. He all but pulls his short friend inside and keeps him blocked from his dad and any of the maid's sight.

He leads the blond to his room, never mind the fact that Steve already knows the way around. They've spent hours in there together. Reading, or listen to the radio shows or playing a game. Sometimes it just the two of them, not doing anything together. Steve draws and Bucky sings or plays his piano or composes new music. And sometimes he's lucky enough to hear Steve sing. The smaller boy doesn't sing often, he's very shy, but trust Bucky not to make fun of him.

The two teens automatically go to Bucky's shelf to play their beloved game, Authors. Was it childish of them? Maybe. Did they care? Absolutely not. The only thing Bucky cared about at that moment was beating Steve, because last time the blond won, 9 to 2 and rubbed it in Bucky's face for a week.