Sam and Bucky don't kiss at midnight under the fireworks.
No, they're holding hands (and maybe Bucky clings a little too hard, maybe Sam's shaking a little bit, it doesn't matter, not for them).
The fireworks are loud, too loud even from the comfort of their room with the windows closed, and everytime the sky lights up, Sam's shoulders go up and down, Bucky shivers, flinches, Sam holds him a little too tight, shaky, whimpering, but the cold metal from Bucky's hands, their fingers intertwined, their gasps perfectly matched--
In and out, Sam says. In and out. They breathe.
Fireworks are never easy, but it's a little better when you're watching them from the comfort of your room, with the windows closed, and Marvin Gaye playing in the background.
They don't kiss at midnight. Instead all they do is sit there quietly, watching, observing a world that wasn't made for them - from their own world they built themselves.
Nah, they don't kiss at midnight. But somehow, whatever they were doing, feels even more personal.
(Besides, Sam can tell when it's New Year exactly. If everything goes according to him, WAP will start playing precisely then)
