Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

October had crept in the way it does with teeth, bringing with it memories that ached his soul. The air held a bite to it, dragging with it shorter days, dying leaves, and breath lingering in the air.

Inside the Tower, Steve had created a warm, comfortable cocoon with plenty of thick blankets, warm sweaters, and packets of hot chocolate to stave off the cold. He watched from the floor to ceiling windows as the city below began its slow transformation into fall - pumpkins appearing on the stoops, shops dressing in black and gold, decorations and advertisements for ‘the best apple cider in town’ littering the shops.

It made his chest tight.

Every advertisement, the fake leaves, false scented pinecones, and floral scent - they would never understand the true magic of Halloween. Homemade magic forged in the presence of love. Blood, sweat, and tears would be poured into this time of year to spread the love of joy and community, so no one felt like they’d stand the coming winters alone.

The scent drifted from somewhere in the depths of his apartment - possibly a candle that had been lit. Woodsmoke, with touches of floral notes. It pulled on a part of him that had buried these past Octobers, these painful autumns of a young boy who’d been buried and dead for seventy years.

With autumn moving in, sleep had escaped him - he’d lay awake in bed and filled with fragmented thoughts that felt more haunting than dreams. The true, real smell of cinnamon, his mother’s laughter - bright and warm. Small feet racing through Brooklyn, joining her laughter as the leaves crunched under his feet.

Lately he’d felt like a ship that had lost its anchor, floating in dark and weary waters. Thor had become concerned, trying to find ways to help Steve ground himself. Normally his warmth was more than enough to keep him in the present, but he’d been far too lost in his thoughts to feel him.

“Mr. Steve! Mr. Thor!”

Peter's voice broke through the melancholy thoughts - the four year old scrambling to his feet from where he’d been laid out in the sunny patch of his carpet. The glow of the sun highlighted his excited expression, excitement dancing in his eyes. Action figures scattered in his wake as he ran towards them, feet pattering on the warmed floor from the heated floorboards.

Thor hummed as his name had been called, his arms gently around Steve’s middle, with his chin hooking over his shoulder. They’d been rocking soothingly side to side in hopes the motions would keep Steve grounded.

“Yes, my little warrior?” he hummed, separating from Steve to look down at Peter. He pulled his arm away to welcome Peter into their embrace so he was between the two. “What’s on your mind?”

Peter pulled away and did that sort of dance where he bounced from foot to foot in excitement, hands pulling on the opposite sleeve and wringing them in excitement. “That smelly good candle reminded me of Halloween and - and Halloween is coming! What are you gonna be?”

Steve looked down at Peter, forcing a smile that felt like putting on ill-fitting clothes. The same clothes that he’d been forced to wear in his youth because everything was too big for his petite size. “Halloween, hm? Well, buddy, I haven’t really thought about it yet. What about you?”

He sat down on the edge of the couch, pushing aside the sketch pad that he’d been idly sketching in before he’d gone to stare out the window. Peter followed him, a big grin on his face.

“I’m gonna be a DINOSAUR! A big, scary T-Rex!” Peter tucked his arms close to his chest and roared with his head tilted back. “Rawr! I’m gonna get SO much candy! Tony said he’s gonna take me trick - trick or treating to every floor of the Tower and then around the neighborhood too! I’m gonna fill up two pumpkins!”

Thor’s brow knitted together in confusion, attempting to put two and two together. “Two...pumpkins?” He questioned, tilting his head. He sat opposite them, in an oversized chair that groaned under the weight. “Do you carry the decorative fruit around for this Midgardian holiday?”

“Noooo Mr. Thor.” Peter’s laughter was contagious, drawing a little smile from Steve. “I carry a big plastic pumpkin and fill it full of candy!”

The child’s excitement was infectious, but the more Steve listened to Peter, the more he became aware something twisted in the depths of his stomach. He could remember being that age, that excited for Halloween and bouncing around his ma’ while she put the finishing touches on his costume. His costume that she’d sewn together from scraps and love.

He’d wear the costume to sleep often, too excited to just wear it once. Every costume she’d sewn for him, he wore it until it practically fell apart weeks later, storing it in his closet for safe keeping or allowing his ma to reuse the scraps.

“A dinosaur, huh? That sounds pretty terrifying - I bet you’ll get all the best candy with that costume.”

Peter beamed at the compliment and turned towards Thor, who was watching the exchange with that bewildered curious expression. Before he’d gotten up to hold his beloved, he’d been reading a book about the history behind these holidays.

“What about you, Mr. Thor? What are you gonna be for Halloween?”

Thor blinked slowly, still trying to put together what the dinosaur costume, pumpkins (plastic and the gourd itself), and candy had to do with this ‘Halloween.’ “I...that is to say...what exactly would one ‘be’ for Halloween? I’m afraid I don’t understand, little warrior.”

“You dress up! In a costume!” Peter exclaimed, clapping his hands in front of him. “You can be annnnything! A pirate or a superhero or a monster or a prince or-”

“But...I am already a prince of sorts,” Thor pointed out with his perfect Asgardian logic.

Recognizing the genuine confusion in his voice, Steve sat up and cleared his throat to get his attention. The movement felt heavy, his bones feeling as weary as his mind. “Darling, Halloween is a holiday. It’s a bit difficult to explain if you’ve never experienced it but Peter is right about the costumes and candy.”

He had to choose a careful tone, not because he was condescending Thor or Peter, but the world felt too sharp for his words. “You see, it started as an old holiday - yes, Peter even much older than I am. It started off as warding off spirits and celebrating the harvests. It was believed to be when the veil between the living and the dead - the spirit world - was thinnest. Now it’s become about something different.”

Peter nodded, climbing up to plop next to Steve. “You get to pretend to be someone else! That’s the fun of it! Ned is going as a robot and MJ is going as Black Widow and -and-” He had to pause to breathe, Steve coaxing him nonchalantly through his inhaler. “You go to people’s houses, shout ‘trick or treat’ and they give you candy for it!”

“The idea is that you dress up as something or anything and then you go around your neighborhood, showing your costume off and enjoying your community,” Steve continued, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders and letting him lean into his side. “It’s about...community. Your neighbors are looking out for each other, sharing in tales and treats.”

Thor had leaned forward, listening intently. “Like a celebration feast of sorts but distributed amongst many hearths?”

Steve nodded. “Something like that.”

The words felt hollow as they left him, falling quiet and allowing his gaze drifting towards the window. His chest felt tight as he watched the lights flicker, the leaves dancing across the window as they floated by on the wind. It was growing difficult to breathe and not in a way that echoed his asthma.

“What was Halloween like when you were my age?” Peter asked in that innocent tone. “Did you go trick or treating?”

It was the innocence of the question that caused Steve to stir. He shifted himself on the couch, dragging a pillow over to his lap so he had something to drum his fingers along. “I did - I went trick or treating every single year.”

The unsaid part hung in the air between them - Until his mother had died and Halloween had lost its magic.

“When I was your age, our whole apartment complex made it special,” Steve continued in a voice that didn’t sound or feel like his own. “Mr. Pulaski would start decorating in September with his wife - they’d start placing orange and black streamers in the halls and over our doors, paper ghosts - closer to October they carved jack-o’-lanterns and put them on one very windowsill. His wife would sprinkle mace and cinnamon in it in the evenings so everywhere smelled like fall - they’d even host weekly carving tutorials and contests so kids and others could learn how to do it. Mrs. Chen would start making baggies and caramel apples and pumpkin pies and other desserts for people to give out - apple cider, warm drinks because Halloween wasn’t just for the kids. There was a couple that would tell scary stories and give out the best candy.”

Peter stared up at him with wide eyes, holding onto the action figure of Hawkeye to his chest. “Did you get lots of candy too?”

Steve’s smile felt like spidering cracked glass. “Mhm but the candy wasn’t the best part, kiddo. My Ma would spend weeks and weeks making my costume by hand. We couldn’t afford store bought so she put her special touch in every single one. She’d find old fabric, buttons, and whatever she could get her hands on to create these...these amazing things.”

His throat felt thick, the words felt like they were getting harder to form.

“One year,” Steve chuckled to himself, “One year I was a cowboy, complete with the chaps and a hat she made from an old leather jacket she’d found. Another year I was a pirate, with a bright red and gold coat that she stayed up late to finish the buttons on. She even made me a cardboard sword that she’d painted gold.”

He had to pause, his vision blurring slightly on the edges. He fought the tears, blinking a few times until he felt like he could finish speaking. “Bucky lived next door with his younger sister. She caught polio, wore leg braces and walked with canes. Some years she couldn’t manage all that walking, so Ma, Bucky, and I would take her around in a wagon - door to door in our building, then around the block.”

The memory felt sweet, bitter and sweet, setting heavily on his chest. He felt like he couldn’t breathe as he relived the memory often sitting inside the wagon with Becca, trading candy.

“When we’d get home, Ma would make homemade cider for us.” Steve cleared his throat, pressing on despite the tightness. “The real kind - not the powdery kind. She’d use cinnamon sticks and whole cloves. The entire apartment smelled so much like autumn - we’d share it with caramel apples too.”

As Steve’s words trailed off into silence that was only broken by the sound of a crackling fire, Peter slowly slid from the couch. He didn’t take any offense - the child only had an attention span for so long.

Thor shifted to sit on the other side of Steve, taking hold of his hand as he shifted to look at him. “I’d like to hear more, if you’re willing to tell me?” His voice was soft and encouraging, not wanting to push his beloved more than he was willing.

Steve squeezed Thor’s hand in solidarity, weaving their fingers together. “We’d stay up late those nights after everyone had gone home. It would be just the two of us, sharing candy, telling stories. She would always save the good pieces for me - the whole chocolate bars, the coconut creams, and claimed she hated them when they were her favorite too. She always told me Halloween was for kids and when I got too old for costumes, she made sure I understood that I was never too old for magic.

It’s still but I...I keep thinking - hoping that something survived the war. Maybe someone kept old photos of me and Ma or even her recipe book - just something that hadn’t been tarnished or thrown into the museum. Just proof that this all happened and it wasn’t some deep hallucination. Just something to hold in my hand to prove that this was all real.”

The pain edged in Steve’s voice told more than he’d ever shown on the surface.

“Mr. Tony!”

Peter’s voice cut through the atmosphere like a newly sharpened blade, shrill and excited as Tony stepped out of the elevator. He scrambled off of the couch and ran into Tony’s waiting arms.

Tony scooped him up, hugging him tightly. “Hey, buddy! Did you have fun with Steve?”

“Uh huh! Did you get your work done? Can you work on my dinosaur costume now?” Peter said this with as much patience he could manage. “I want to be a big, scary dinosaur.”

“Of course we can. I’ve had the engineering department working on those fearsome claws.” He made a claw motion to Peter, tickling his chest. Peter squealed and wiggled in Tony’s grip. “You can only have them if you promise to save me some of the good candy.”

“Pinkie promise!”

Steve watched them step back into the elevator, Peter too lost into his explanation of what he wants with the costume and expectations of Halloween to bother to say goodbye. He still gave them a small wave as the elevator doors closed and their voices faded away.

Thor had waited for the pair to disappear before he got Steve’s attention again. He cupped Steve’s cheek to get his attention and brought him close to his chest. He pressed a kiss to his temple, drawing Steve into his chest.

For a while, the world was quiet around them. The only sound for a while was Thor's steady heartbeat in his ear, the sound of the fire flickering away. It was a comfort to listen to, but some part of it felt like a steady reminder that the past was nothing but a memory.

“You know the worst part of this?” The words felt heavy on his tongue, tasting bitter. “The building we used to live in was torn down in the sixties to make it into a parking lot. I’m the only one who carries these memories that don’t belong anywhere anymore, sometimes just like how I feel.”

Thor sat quiet for a long moment, his hand idly rubbing over the small of Steve’s back. When he finally found his voice, it carried the weight of centuries, of someone who’d lost his own share of things, who was far older than he’d been perceived.

“On Asgard, we believe that memories are not possessions meant to be hoarded, but gifts to be shared with others,” he whispered, meeting Steve’s gaze. “Please tell me if I am overstepping my heart, but perhaps these traditions you speak of can be shared, not buried with them.”

Steve didn’t know how to respond at first - his throat tightened as he thought of what it meant. There was a determined look in Thor’s soft gaze, it made his heart skip a beat to know how much Thor cared for him. The tradition that he spoke of, sharing his family’s lore and legacy with him.

“You’re not,” he reassured Thor. “You’re not overstepping, but what do you mean? People are too stuck in this modern ways to bother with community.”

Thor hummed in response, in a manner that made Steve think he was too rash to say such a statement. “Think about it, my love. Your memories are like gifts, they’re too precious to remain unopened. You can still hold them close to your chest and cherish them, while sharing them with others. Your mother created the beauty of Halloween - she created magic. It wasn’t just candy or costumes that gave you joy, it was the community of creating wonders and memories for those who need it most. Sometimes memories don't die. It just finds new hands to carry it forward.”

“Who would need these memories?” Steve tried his best not to scoff. “Who would carry the memories, the burden of them? I don’t want to bring anyone else down.”

Thor shook his head, smiling calmly at his beloved. He knew Steve was in a place of grief and pain and Steve being Steve, he wouldn’t want to burden anyone to carry this pain with him. “Peter will experience his first real Halloween this year, my heart. And you, who carries those beautiful memories, know better than anyone what would make it truly special and one to remember. More than this dinosaur costume.”

Steve felt his heart flutter in his throat as he sat up but leaning into Thor’s arms. “You think I should share the joy and memories by helping him with trick-or-treating? I don’t think that’s a good idea...I’m sure I’ll bring the mood down.”

“Perhaps but...” Thor hummed, dragging Steve into his lap and kissing his cheek. “I think it’s time for new traditions. And perhaps, in the meantime, you could teach me about your magical night?”

Steve’s lips curved into something that mirrored a real smile. He searched Thor’s face to see if he was pulling his leg but the man was sincere. “You really want to go trick-or-treating, Thor?”

“Aye,” Thor rumbled. “It would be an honor to share in this tradition. Though, I must confess - I have no idea what I should ‘be’. I’ll have to ponder on it.”

Steve’s laugh surprised them both - rusty but genuine. It caused Thor to smile warmly, wrapping one of the softer blankets around his beloved’s broad shoulders.

Even as they sat in the comfortable silence only broken by Thor’s humming lullabies from his childhood, his mind was already turning. Already planning.

Chapter Text

The next evening, a knock on the door pulled Thor from the journal he’d been scratching his thoughts down with a homemade quill and ink - midgardian technology was one thing, but he did love to stick to his own habits. He sat the items down, careful to cork the bottle of ink before getting to his feet.

It was late in the evening, a time he should’ve been attempting to sleep but sleep wouldn’t come to him, not when he was far too worried about Steve. After dinner, Steve had excused himself early, claiming to be tired. He’d watched him go with concern tightening his chest, wanting to prod his memories further but Steve had locked them away.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Thor said loud enough when there was another knock. He kept his expression natural as he opened the door to reveal Bucky, the last person he expected at his door. “James, please come in. What can I do for you, friend James?”

The concerned expression Bucky wore didn’t settle the anxiety settling in his chest like shrapnel from a shield. He didn’t like it.

Bucky’s steps were slow and careful as he walked into the room, hands held behind his back. “I’m sorry to disturb you this late, Thor. I wanted to...”

He trailed off, eyes fluttering around the room to take in the comforts of home that Thor had laid here - the bearskin rug in front of the fire, the plaits of furs along the couch, a container of what appeared to be mead and a goblet that had been used recently. He spotted the journal sitting on the arm of the chair, bound with straps of leather across its uneven parchment sheets, he was clearly invading a personal time for the man.

“Talk?” Thor prompted, leading him towards his couch. He sat on the edge, hands clasped in his lap to keep himself from fiddling around. “It must be dire if you’re coming to me.”

“It’s about Steve.”

Thor noticed how Bucky kept his responses short and blunt, noticing how he ran a hand through his hair. He’d learned through mutual interactions that this meant he was planning, organizing his thoughts, trying to push through the muddle that was Hydra’s damage. He decided to stay silent, even if his heart was beating in the depths of his throat, let Bucky speak on his own need.

“You noticed during dinner he barely ate a bite? It’s a habit of his from childhood - to push the food around and take minimum bites. The last time someone called him out on that, he projectile vomited on the table before bursting into tears.” There was a wisp of a smile on Bucky’s lips as he recalled this memory. “To be fair to him, the poor fella was sick as a dog and was trying to hide it from us.”

Thor had noticed his beloved wouldn’t eat, he pushed his food around and responded to the conversation when only spoken to.

“When we were running errands yesterday, y’know the normal just grabbing a few groceries and tidbits-we passed an older antique shop. They had TVs stacked in the window, playing some commercials. I didn’t think anything of it but Steve stood there and refused to move for anything. It was just a simple commercial - mother and son baking cookies together, all warm and domestic...” Bucky’s voice tightened and he had to clear his throat before continuing, “Steve just - just started crying.”

Thor felt his heart clench, seeing the pain written on Bucky’s face. He could remember Steve coming home with his bags and setting them on the counter before walking straight into his office and saying he wanted to be alone.

“Crying? Why didn’t you or Steve tell me?”

“It’s not for me to tell,” Bucky replied simply, shrugging his shoulders. He had a deep expression of pain, the only sort of pain that came from watching his best friend silently suffer. “It wasn’t like it was loud or dramatic, but yet somehow worse. Silently crying, just standing there...crying while staring at this stupid cookie commercial like it ripped his heart out and stomped on it in front of him. This happens every year without fail...”

“Every October? Does this have something to do with the Halloween memories he’s shared with me?”

“Every single October,” Bucky confirmed. “Haven’t you noticed? He’ll become quiet and withdrawn, eventually he’ll stop eating as much. And I don’t know if you know this but with his serum and body mass, he needs to keep up with his calorie intake as much as you do. Instead Steve won’t, he’ll push himself further and further and collapse. He won’t sleep as much either, says he gets pretty intense nightmares about Mama Sarah dying, about being alone. Last year he locked himself inside his apartment for three days. It would've been longer if I and Sam hadn’t busted the door down.”

“I didn’t know this, I’m afraid duty in Asgard called me away during that time last year. If I had known, I would’ve stayed to somehow comfort Steve...” Thor trailed off, rubbing at his cheek and feeling the guilt piling in him. “Why didn’t you or Steve or anyone tell me before? I could’ve been prepared, I could’ve helped him!”

“And do what? I’ve been preparing those close to him for years but nothing has worked.” Bucky’s words weren’t unkind, but it didn’t mean they didn’t hit him any harsher. “Steve Rogers is the best damn liar when it comes to hiding his own pain - he’ll smile and tell you he’s fine when he’s clearly not.”

Thor rubbed a hand over his face, pushing his hair out of his face. Bucky was right, Steve had been distant, if he wasn’t down in the gym training, he was staring out the windows or locking himself away in his office or claiming he was too tired and going to bed. There had been a heaviness in his voice when he spoke about his mother earlier, a wanting and a yearning.

Thor understood the pain of loss and the guilt that came with it. “I too know what it’s like to lose a mother. I lost mine in a violent manner and I mourn for her every single day, I can understand where Steve is hurting. I want to help. What usually helps?”

Bucky’s laugh was bitter and harsh. “Nothing. Nothing we’ve found, just yet. He just endures it, waits for it to pass. Sometimes November’s arrival helps or he’s like this until the new year. He carries these memories alone, feeling like he’s the last person in the world who remembers Sarah Rogers, remembers what it’s like to be loved in that special manner Sarah could make you feel but he’s not. He forgets that I also carry her memory, that I know who Sarah Rogers was, how great of a mother, friend, and neighbor she was. I’ve attempted to talk to him but he’s drowning in his own guilt and he forgets there’s someone else suffering.”

He moved closer to Thor, his voice dropping to something mimicking urgent and raw. “I don’t know you that well, I don’t know if you’re just passing through Steve’s life, what I do know is Steve loves you, he loves you more than I’ve seen him love someone, save Carter-”

“Miss Peggy Carter, yes. We’ve spoken of her in great length,” Thor replied, nodding seriously. “I am not ‘passing’ through Steven’s life, friend Barnes. I am here for the long haul, I am here for however long he wants me. I love him. I love him with the force of a thousand souls. I want to help him. I need to help him. I beg of you to tell me what this does to him - what October means to him and why this time of year breaks him.”

Understanding dawned in Bucky’s eyes. Steve and Thor had been friends longer than they had been dating, it would be foolish for this Asgardian demi-God to want to help him. It was clear Thor was wrestling with his emotions over this. He cleared his throat, hands kneading in front of him to give himself time to think and sort through these thoughts. When he finally spoke, he avoided looking at Thor,

“I’m not sure how much Steve told you or how much he’d want you to know but if there’s anything you take from this, you need to know what sort of woman Sarah Rogers was. She was an angel of a woman, a pure soul - one of the best people around. I don’t say that lightly - I’ve known Steve his whole life and watched him become this - this amazing person and save the world time and time again as a hero but Sarah?” Bucky’s eyes grew distant, his breath shuddering with struggling with memories. “She was something else.”

Bucky looked up as the couch creaked when Thor rose to his feet. He watched as Thor poured them both a healthy fill from his mead, the goblet heavy as he handed it to Bucky. He took a few tender sips, the feel of it burning down his throat, it helped with the memories pooling on the tip of his tongue.

“You see, my old man was a mean drunk - not uncommon for that sort of time. He wasn’t drunk all the time, but enough that it’s a very present memory. My ma did her best, but with four other kids and one on the way, there was never enough to go around, rather that was food or patience. I learned from an early age to stay outta the way, make myself small, and don’t cause problems. If I caused problems or just got in the way when my old man was drunk, I was thoroughly ‘dealt with’, as you can imagine what that meant...”

He trailed off as he rubbed over his wrists, the sound of the belt echoing in his memories.

“That must’ve been difficult,” Thor said softly, setting his goblet down. “You must’ve been terrified - you were just a child..”

“I was but to me - it was just survival, doing what I can to live another day. Yet Sarah Rogers...she saw me, really saw me.” Bucky paused to sip more from the goblet, clearing his throat. “The first time she helped me, I was maybe...eight, yeah eight. Showed up at school with a black eye - said I’d fallen like I was instructed to. Just got on the wrong side of my pa, yet Steve knew better. That boy could sniff out my lies like a bloodhound. He dragged me to his home after school and when Sarah got home, she took one look at me and just...just knew...”

“Aye, mothers sometimes have that knowledge about them. Mine claimed it was because she was raised by witches. What did she do?”

Bucky’s laugh was strained but light with the nostalgia of memory.

“Mama Rogers knew a bit of what she claimed was the ‘ole ways’ but this was just what Stevie and I called ‘Mama Rogers’ instinct. She didn’t make a big deal of my bruises or how I limped funny, didn’t ask questions I couldn’t answer, didn’t threaten to call anybody. The way she questioned me too, it was questions I could answer, tell her things in ways that wouldn’t get me nor her in trouble. She would fix me up with whatever she had on hand and being Steve’s mother and a nurse at the hospital, that was pretty much everything and anything. She had this bruise balm, smelled like shit, but it was a life savior, and would heal up a bruise overnight. She kept a steady stock of that.

“She told me once, “James - she always called me James, never Bucky - ‘James, you’re having dinner with us tonight. And you’ll come back tomorrow night too. In fact, I expect you to be here every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday for dinner from now on. There was no arguing with her, you know? She was ordering me, like I was doing her a favor by showing up and eating her limited amount of food. I was just another mouth to feed, another person to tend to, yet she treated me like her own.

When I tried to protest here and there, she had her reasoning, “James, please understand me. Steve needs someone to walk home with, to keep him out of trouble. Sometimes he gets lost in his thoughts, and needs a friend to ground him. Make sure he eats - you too - when he gets home and takes his meds.’ Or, ‘I made too much food again, James. You’ll have to help me out, I’ll pack some for Steve to bring it for lunch for you two. She always treated me like I wasn’t the one being saved, like I was...a kid, yeah - she treated me like a kid, not a burden.”

“I only wish I could’ve met her, she’s...she’s certainly something special. One my Mother Frigga would’ve adored to know.”

“She was protecting everything that was holding a fragile child together. Those dinners became my safe spaces, days I knew I could eat something decent and not put the burden on my mother. Those were times I knew someone cared about me, saw me for me. That would listen to my questions and stories and wanted to hear about my day. The days I didn’t show up to school or for dinners, Mama Sarah made excuses to stop by and see me. Normally I was home alone, Ma and Pa worked during the day - she’d bring me food and comfort, like a real mother. She’d make sure Steve brought my homework by, just to check in on me in the evening too - most of those days I was sick, some days, hurt too much to be out in public.”

Bucky paused for a moment, blinking harshly to try to clear the tears burning his eyes. “And Steve...Steve welcomed me with open arms. He loved me as much as I loved him, he was just happy I was there. When I was at the Rogers’ home, I was never a charity case. She was a real mother... Worked her tail off at the hospital, terrible hours, hard work, but she loved it. She was always one to go the extra mile to help people. She’d come home dead on her feet, but still find the energy to help Steve with homework or teach us how to bake bread and cook with the bare minimum or even helping her neighbors.”

“She cared for everyone,” Thor said, laying his hand comfortingly on Bucky’s shoulder. “She loved you - I can see how important she was to the two of you.”

“She had this way of making you feel special, not just another obligation or problem to fix. She made you feel loved by just smiling at you. When Steve would get sick - it was quite often - she’d stay up late to make sure Steve survived the night. Monitor his breathing, trying to break his fever. I don’t know how she did it - those endless nights of work, her sick son, and work... I know Steve felt so guilty too, but no matter what he said, Mama Sarah never stopped caring for him.

When he was too sick to function and I knew Mama Sarah was up for another rough few days, I would sneak over. She’d let me in through the window or if I was there before she got off work, she never questioned it. He would lay in bed, so pale, clammy, and struggling to breathe - on his worst nights, when it was just the two of us, he’d grasp my hand and beg for death. Beg for it to end - not because he was to that point in his health, but because he didn’t want to be a burden on us. It took forever to argue otherwise with him, but I like to think one of us got through that he would never be a burden.”

“You were worried for your best friend and wanted to take some of the exhaustion off of a poor mother’s shoulders. Were you ever caught?”

Bucky shrugged. “Once - Pa laid into me until I was struggling to breathe. If Ma hadn’t stepped in and let me crawl away and limp straight into the one household I felt welcomed in... I’m sure I wouldn’t have survived. I don’t blame Pa, almost... He was under a lot of stress and when he saw me runnin’ away, he took it like it had been a blow to his own pride. That I was ruinin’ the Barnes name by being there.”

Thor’s brow pinched together at Bucky’s weak attempt of a defense, clearly not believing him. “Friend, it’s okay. Rather you remember your father in a bright or dark light, it’s best you remember him as he truly was, you don’t need to lie to yourself or me for that matter. Your mother sacrificed herself during his attempts of anger, for something as stupid as pride - pride gets many men killed. You were just a child, friend, Sarah Rogers would tend to you and tend to Steve, as a mother should. My mother would do the same, telling my brother and I stories, creating images in the air... It almost made it worth being sick.”

Bucky’s laugh was strained, but there was the ghost of a smile. “Mothers know just how stories make us feel - she’d tell us stories about Ireland, about the Old Gods, about her time growing up, coming to America, about how the world was bigger than our block in Brooklyn and one day we’d see it - she was so excited for us to see it. She knew the importance of stories and how her knowledge and lore and love could be told with it.”

Thor’s throat tightened with emotion, distracting himself with a few sips of the nearly forgotten mead. “You loved her... You loved her as much as a child could love their mother figure.”

“Mama Sarah saved my life, Thor. It wasn’t in one dramatic manner, not all at once, but in a thousand and one small ways. She treated anyone in her vicinity like they mattered and at the end of the day...that’s what was important.” His voice broke, a few stray tears rolling down his cheek. He sniffed and Thor looked away, giving him time and privacy to recover. “We were there when she died.”

Thor didn’t think he could respond, simply nodding in response. Sarah Rogers had the comfort of both her boys in her passing - it was the kinder thing life could’ve given her at the end of her life.

“Steve doesn’t know this part...” Bucky continued, the tears rolling down his face. “We were both in her hospital room, but Steve had fallen asleep, clinging to his ma’s hand. She could barely talk by then - the TB had eaten away so much of her strength, but Mama Sarah...she woke me up and held my hand with as much strength she had left, made me make a promise to her.”

“Promise what? Was it like a spell?”

“For the sake of Mama Sarah, it might as well have been. She said, “James, take care of my Stevie - make sure he remembers that love, that folks don’t die just because people do - memories live on, they live on in the people, their actions, even something as simple as a smile. Make sure he knows that joy, in the darkest of times, it’s the most important thing to hold onto - joy and hope. I want him to remember how to make magic for others, the same way we’d made it for him, but more importantly, I want him to remember how to create magic for himself, in his own life. Please, promise me... He needs love, he needs magic.’ I had no choice but to promise, because I knew how important it was for her and how important it was for Steve too - to allow her memory and love, her message to continue to spread.”

“Then...” Bucky’s voice trembled, a silent sob shaking his shoulders. “Then...then she knew, she knew she started to go. She had me wake Steve up...nothing like how the movies say it is. She went quietly, the shuddering breath, I believe it still haunts me. Every person I’ve killed by my hands, under Hydra’s orders or my own guise...when I try to remember death, I just remember her final breath...”

When Thor went to move, perhaps to comfort him, Bucky stood up and threw back the rest of what was in the goblet. It clattered to the table with a loud, rattling noise, the mead burning as it went down his throat and pooled into the depths of his stomach. He moved back to the window, parting the heavy curtains to study the skyline.

“We were barely adults and we both felt alone in this world. Then the war was starting, it was bleak and terrifying and Steve - blessed Stevie, he was trying so hard to hold it together, to be strong. To be just Steve Rogers, the one that carried the world on his shoulders and not Stevie who needed to learn to accept help.

I moved into his apartment because I couldn’t let him be alone, because even when I stayed at my home, I felt alone. I was worried for Steve, worried he’d do something stupid or hurt himself or - or something. I just made sure he remembered he was human - that he ate, made sure he slept and wasn’t having night terrors and when he did, I was there. I just...I didn’t want him to give up just because Mama Sarah was gone.” Bucky’s hands clenched at his side, trying to steady himself. He was barely holding himself together here. “When I was drafted, forced to leave him... it felt like I had failed her, couldn’t keep my promise, couldn’t protect him.”

“You didn’t,” Thor tried to reassure him. “You were forced away in times of war, beyond your control. You did as much as you could with the time given but look at it this way, friend Barnes - Steve had survived, in the end. Hurting but surviving.”

The attempt at comfort was shrugged off, even if Bucky knew Thor was doing his best. He wiped at the tears fiercely, like he could wipe away the shame and anger that had been building up in him.* “Do you understand now, Thor? Do you understand why this time of year, why October destroys that poor man.”

Thor nodded solemnly. “Aye - he lost the very person near and dear to him. Beyond you, he’s lost the part of his soul that had become his life, had given him love, comfort, and magic. He woke up in a world...like Midgard, where people worship Captain America, but not Steve Rogers, where no one remembers the woman who made Steve Rogers who he is. Without Sarah Rogers, there’s no Steve Rogers.” He blinked hard, the tears burning his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. “He’s been carrying this grief, this pain alone, thinking he has to shoulder it himself...”

“Because he’s stupid,” Bucky sniffed, clearing his throat. “The memories, traditions... Everything we’ve known from our childhood is gone, Thor, if you love him, if you truly love that man, you need to understand this isn’t a wound you can fix, to give him some mead and he’ll fully heal - I don’t think the death of a mother is something one gets over easily. You can show him that he’s not alone, that you know his pain. That...me and him are not alone.”

The last words were whispered, like a pleading prayer.

“You are not alone,” Thor swore. “I cannot imagine what it is like to lose and suffer in the way that you two have suffered but neither of you are alone in this grief anymore. You are sharing her traditions, her personal memories with me. I promise to help you by honoring them. We show Steve that love doesn’t stay buried in the past, we can continue the traditions and create new memories that honor the old.”

“I hope he can understand that he has people around him, a family now, more people, who want to know about the magic of Sarah Rogers.”

“Now I understand why Halloween must be so important to him. That’s why he suddenly spoke of it today after the little Parker questioned him.”

“Mhm - Halloween was when Sarah made that magic happen. No one could turn poverty and hardship into the type of joy that she could. She just had this way of making sure every kid in her neighborhood knew they felt loved and important.” Bucky rubbed at his jawline, trying to focus his thoughts after going through this emotionally exhausting discussion. “If we can recreate that feeling for Steve, we might be able to give him back something precious, something that he thought was lost forever.”

Thor felt determination settle over him like a well-fitted placed platemail. “I’ll do it - if not for him, then for the both of you. For the memory of Sarah Rogers. I ask, Friend Barnes, if you could help me with this delicate situation. You know Steve the best, what would help, what would make it worse. Where should we start?”

Bucky thought about it for a moment. “”We start by finding Mrs. Chen - if she’s still alive, we could bring her here. We can talk to her - maybe she would have memories to share or recipes of Sarah’s. It would be a great start, for him...for us both to see someone else who remembers Mama Sarah. I think Sam could help with that.”

“What do you need Bucky’s help with?” came Steve’s voice from the elevator. He looked even more exhausted as he stood there, wobbling on his feet. “What’s goin’ on?”

The poor guy looked dead on his feet, struggling to stay awake and sleepily yawning and rubbing his eyes. He was wearing oversized sleeping pajamas and no shirt, his hair a mess of bedhead.

“Nothing important, Rogers,” Bucky said smoothly, with the ability of someone who has lied to their best friend their entire life. “I just came down here for a nightly cap and we got discussing....discussing...”

The words failed him as Steve yawned and he saw the black bags under his eyes, the exhaustion written across his features.

“Discussing old battle tactics of mine,” Thor quickly filled in, picking up his journal to wiggle it in Steve’s field of vision as if to prove it. “Friend Barnes looked as if he could use a distraction and I offered - with the addition of mead to ease the discussion. It helps to go over my past battle tactics, to see my mistakes and with a tactical mind such as Friend Bucky’s.”

If Steve thought there was something odd about their interaction or either of their lies, he said nothing. He just yawned and rubbed at his face, shrugging his shoulders.

“Hm, alright. Thor, can I stay on your floor tonight? It’s much darker and cooler and...”

“Of course, my heart. You are always welcomed within my home.” Thor gestured for Steve to come closer and nearly started to purr when his beloved melted into him. He tucked Steve’s head under his chin, hand rubbing up and down absently his spine. He counted the notches along his spin, feeling Steve start to relax more into him.

Over his shoulder, he met Bucky’s eyes. Bucky’s head nodded in understanding - they would start soon. He’ll go to Sam, ask for his help. For now, he’d let the couple rest.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Thor’s heart’s equal was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t surprising, knowing Steve kept to his habits and would’ve gone on his run. He appreciated the note left on his counter, ‘Early run. Thank you for the companionship last night. Didn’t want to wake you. - S’

Thor dressed quickly, finding Bucky in his living room sipping on coffee and writing on a spare notebook. He silently offered the other cup to him, his face echoing the concern he felt.

“Steve will be on his run for maybe an hour or so,” Bucky said, shoving his notebook into his pocket as he stood up. “We should start with Tony first, that’ll give us the baseline of what can and can’t be done, but if anyone can track down authentic decorations and get this going, it’ll be him.”

“Then we better get started - I don’t want Steve to know what we’re doing. Not yet, at least.”

Tony was in his workshop, surrounded by holographic displays and tinkering on a piece of his armor. As FRIDAY announced their arrival, a spark went off and Bucky had to shield his eyes, thankful for the music being turned down to a more appropriate level.

“Thor! Bucky!” Tony greeted them with that over excited energy that told them he was on his fifth cup of coffee that morning and most likely hadn’t slept in 32 hours. He let the tools clatter back to the table and spun fully to face them, throwing his feet up on DUM-E before it could buzz with excitement and run to their visitors. “I didn’t expect visitors - what’s going on? Neither of you visit unless something is on your mind.”

“Tony...” Thor trailed off and cleared his throat, accepting the seat that Tony had kicked his way. He caught the rolling chair and slowly sat down, fingers drumming on his pommel in thought.

Thankfully, Bucky had thought this through, stepping up beside Thor and laying a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “I got this - Tony, we need your help. It’s Steve-”

Tony’s expression shifted, brow ruffling as he thought about Steve. “The gloomy Captain? Thought it was something like seasonal depression. What’s going on?”

“You could say that - it’s more of grief and we need your particular skillset to help us,” Bucky explained, watching Tony shift and lean forward to show he was listening. “You see - this time of year is painful for Steve. With his mother gone, he feels like he’s lost out on those traditions, feels like he doesn’t belong somewhere....”

“He’s in pain, Tony, real pain. The kind that doesn’t show in battle, that keeps him up at night,” Thor finished for Bucky, noticing how he started to get choked up. He laid his hand over Bucky’s on his shoulder, squeezing them lightly.

“I’ve noticed but it’s not like Cap wants to talk to anyone. He just either holes himself up or keeps himself busy between missions or overly training himself. I offer for him to join Stark’s annual Halloween party or take Peter trick or treating but he turns them down. How do you expect me to help with these...” Tony trailed off, wiggling his hand in the air. “These Steve emotions. Maybe send him away on vacation? I heard the mountains are pretty this time of year or somewhere tropical and warm?”

“A vacation isn’t going to help!” Bucky snapped, wincing at his tone. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m - I’m worried, alright? I’m worried and grieving too and Steve isn’t helping. If a vacation could solve this, then I would’ve forced him on a vacation long ago.”

“Hey, hey, deep breath. It was a stupid suggestion, alright?” Tony flashed that award winning smile and kicked another seat for Bucky. He looked like he was getting ready to pass out with the stress. “Just tell me what you need, what’s the end goal here?”

“It’s...perhaps a fool’s vision,” Thor spoke up, finally looking at Tony. “but I want to recreate the feeling of Halloween for him. I know I can’t give him back exactly what he lost, it will never be perfect but I want to give him that sense of community and belonging, to be cared for the way that Bucky and his mother cared for him. I want to show him that he has us now, he’s not alone in these memories.”

“You see, Sarah used to decorate with whatever she could afford and that wasn’t much,” Bucky interjected, “She’d use paper decorations from the five-and-dime, with silly little smiles. Steve, Becca, and I used to cut out cardboard black cats and even made the tails moveable - orange tissue paper garlands that cost maybe five cents. It was cheap, but it was everywhere, it was fun, we hung it from every doorframe, window, and even the ceiling. The whole building would partake, be filled with the decorations - it was like waking up and magic had settled over everything.”

Tony thought about it for a moment, turning so he was facing the holographic displays. His fingers were already typing away, pulling up what looked to be sites for auctions and collector databases. “There are some estate sales, private collectors - museums could even loan a few pieces. I can track down some of these authentic decorations, it won’t bring back lots of that Sarah Rogers magic but it would be something.”

“It needs to feel authentic,” Thor emphasized, watching Tony’s fingers fly across the holographic keyboard. “I’m sure Steve will understand if it’s not, but I don’t want to risk it.”

“Point Break, since when do I not do something right?” Tony questioned, pulling up images of the vintage decorations. He enlarged one of the black cats, cardboard witches, crepe paper streamers in orange black. “Alright, Buck, you’re up. Do any of these look familiar?”

Bucky stepped closer, hand reaching out to manipulate the images to study them. His lips pursed in thought. “Oh, right there! That black cat, looks just like the ones we used to make. She’d take it to the windows every year, put a candle behind it so it would make it look like a shadow. And these tissue paper pumpkins, they would be hung from the ceiling with strings. They’d spin and cast shadows on the walls. We’d also use ghosts and witches' outlines.”

He turned to Tony, shaking his head. “There’s one decoration that’s vital to this. A cardboard skeleton that somebody had given to her before Steve was born. It was this...ugly, barely held together thing. One leg was almost just practically tape, the jaw was bent weirdly, but she’d hang it on the door every single year. Steve loved that thing, would call it Mr. Bones and have full conversations with it. Not that you heard that from me.”

It was worth it to hear Tony and Thor’s laughter, even if Steve might’ve disapproved of his memories being spilled.

“Got it - I’ll find Mr. Bones twin brother, even if it kills me. Especially if it gets me some more of those embarrassing stories.” He trailed off for a moment, seeing the distant look in Bucky’s eyes. “What was it like back then? With someone as amazing as Sarah Rogers.”

The sarcastic manner was gone, replaced by genuine curiosity. Bucky could obliged it, sharing a look with Thor. “Sarah would take the whole day off of work, even if she couldn’t afford it. She’d say, ‘Some things are more important than money, James. Magic is one of them.”

Thor felt his throat tighten - the more he learned of Sarah Rogers, the more he could see where Steve Rogers began.

“She’d come home, exhausted to the bone, and act like decorate for Halloween the highlight of her week. She would bring such joy to the little things - even staying up till midnight to make costumes. I mean this woman...this woman would make custom Halloween baskets for Stevie and I - just lil’ baskets filled with small decorations and things to match our costumes and homemade candy.”

“Don’t forget about the homemade cider,” Thor noted, after clearing his throat. “He said something about these caramel apples too. And pulling your sister in a wagon to be sure she got as many treats as the other kids. Make her feel normal like the other kids.”

Bucky felt like someone had struck him in the chest, blinking slowly and looking at Thor. He’d tucked that memory away, with all of the other painful memories. He could picture a little Steve, insisting on pulling a barley-put-together wagon containing Becca, wanting to be sure she got the best candy too.

More often than not, by the end of the night, Steve would end up in that wagon, curled up and sleeping.

“This is what I want to recreate for him,” Thor said after a beat of silence, feeling the need to fill in the silence. “I want to recreate this feeling for him, to remind him that everyone matters - the way his mother made everyone feel seen and valued.”

“You know...” Tony trailed off for a moment, finger stilling over the keyboard. When he finally spoke again, his voice was raw and honest, but his gaze stayed steady on the screen. “When I was younger, my Halloween was...not. Boarding school didn’t do holidays and when I was younger, I had nannies who claimed Halloween was of the Devil so... I’d watch and listen to kids who actually had families who wanted them, who got to go out and experience this magic. I always wondered what it felt like.”

Tony cleared his throat, forcing himself to lower his hands and turn to the pair, “What you’re describing - what Sarah Rogers had created for you two fossils - I always wanted that. I wanted someone, anyone to care enough to create magic for mere strangers, simply because they gave a damn.”

“Then you understand why this matters to all of us,” Bucky said softly, nodding. “For me, for Steve.”

“Yeah, yeah I do.” Tony cleared his throat, moving past the emotions that he’d just admitted to and turned back to the screen. “I’ll track down these authentic decorations and I’ll make sure everyone knows that it isn't just a normal Stark party. This is about Steve and Sarah Rogers."

As Thor and Bucky left the workshop, both relieved that Tony had agreed to go with their plan, they nearly collided with Steve in the hallway. He was sweaty from his run, little blonde locks sticking to his forehead. He looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes were more prominent in this state, even as he still tried to smile.

“Hey you two,” Steve greeted them, draining the last of the water in his bottle. He looked between them with curiosity, frowning. “What were you two doing in Tony’s workshop?”

The way he stated the question, said nothing good ever came from them teaming up.

Thor felt his heart skip, avoiding looking right at Steve. He couldn’t lie to Steve, that felt wrong. “Tony needed a second and third pair of eyes. He wanted to show us some upgrades for the new defensive systems for the common areas.”

Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. They’d done that last week when Steve was on another run.

“Right,” Bucky added smoothly. “You know how he gets paranoid about security once a month.”

Steve stayed quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly. For a beat, Thor thought he saw through their lies. He couldn’t risk that - not when things were still up in the air.

“Security upgrades,” Steve repeated slowly, like he was judging the words. “At 9am? That requires both of you."

Thor shrugged, or at least he hoped it was a casual shrug. “You know how Tony can get - working odd hours of the night and can’t rest until someone validates him.”

“Plus, free coffee,” Bucky added. “His workshop stuff is loads better then the sludge down in the kitchen.”

Steve’s expression shifted into something unreadable, before he sighed. “Alright... Just promise me the two of you aren’t planning anything. Because the last time you three collaborated on ‘security’ my shield and uniform got covered in glitter.”

“Hey that was festive!” Bucky protested, barely able to protest the smirk. “Besides, we warned you not to sleep in the common area during that time

“I must’ve missed the memo,” Steve mused, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “I’m goin’ to go shower - Thor you want to grab breakfast after?”

“Of course, my heart.” Thor hummed, stepping closer to press a kiss to Steve’s temple. “I’ll meet you in my kitchen in twenty minutes. Go ahead and use my shower - there’s the stone pumice for your use.”

Steve nodded, but his eyes lingered on them for just a moment before he left them be. Once he was out of earshot, Bucky let out a sigh of relief.

“He suspects us,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head. “Should’ve known better then try to trick him.”

“He does but hopefully he won’t push.”

“We need to move fast, before he figures anything out.”

Thor hummed in agreement, considering the situation. He couldn’t leave Steve’s side, not when he was willingly and wanting him to be there. “Go ahead to Natasha’s - I’ll try to keep Steve from being suspicious.”

Chapter Text

An hour later, Bucky appeared outside of Natasha’s door. He’d barely raised his hand to knock when her voice called out, “Come in, Barnes. I’m making tea.”

Of course she’d known he was coming - Natasha Romanoff knew everything and anything that was happening in this Tower and then some.

He entered her apartment to find it comfortable, with the sweet scent of tea and cinnamon rolls. It smelled like home. The kettle was already going off as he sat on her couch without invitation. They were long past formalities at this point.

“I was. Steve’s behavior has been concerning but you two sneaking down to Tony’s lab - well that caught my attention. You two are never up to any good.” Natasha winked, passing to sit beside him and pass over a cup of tea. “Do you think Steve’s ready for this party?”

“I don’t know, but I know he needs this. I know this is more about him, at this point. This is about Thor. And...” Bucky blew on the mug before taking a timid sip, anything to avoid her sharp green eyes. “And me. Thor is desperate, he wants to do something to ease Steve’s suffering, you should’ve seen and heard him last night. He has that ‘watching the person you love suffer’ need in him.”

“And for you? What would this...gathering mean for you?”

“You’re going to make me say it, huh?” Her smirk around the mug said yes, yes she would. “It would mean honoring the woman who was more of a mother to me then my own mother. It would mean honoring her promise and letting go of this guilt and pain that had haunted me for years. It would be...showing Steve and I both that we have a family here.”

Natasha’s expression softened at his explanation, but she didn’t respond right away. She drank her tea and let Bucky settle into the couch before she found her voice, “You and Steve always have a family here, James. Sarah Rogers would’ve been proud of the man you’ve become.”

When Bucky made a choking noise, she looked up from her steaming mug to see him choking on a sob. A hand covering his mouth to try to hide it. He’d always told himself that Sarah would've forgiven him for everything, she would’ve found the silver lining because that was the type of woman she was. That was just him trying to find the silver lining in what little he could remember of his past so to hear it from someone else - that broke something in him.

She sat her mug down and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, guiding him into her. Bucky’s shoulders shook drastically as he sobbed into her, just a man who had a deep relief of someone else seeing that he was trying so hard.

Natasha, ever the saint, his best friend, his rock, his Yasha. She carried the team on her back and asked for nothing but understanding in return. He could never give her enough, never thank her enough for the sanity, patience, and love she’d given him over the years. It took the better part of half an hour before Bucky had calmed down, his sobs slowly residing into more comfort of her touch. Her fingers slowly threading through his hair as his breathing slowly returned to normal, even if a little bit shaken.

“I-” He went to speak, simply shaking his head. “Thank you, Natalia.”

Natasha smiled, a true and honest smile, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “You have nothing to thank me for, Yasha. Now up you get. Just breathe for me, there we go, deep breaths.”

Leave it to Natasha to guide him through a deep breathing session and to calm himself down.”I didn’t know...I didn’t know I needed to hear that from someone outside Stevie and I’s lil bubble. I want to make sure that I never fail the promise I made and by doing this little party, it’ll hopefully heal something for the both of us. It’ll give Thor footing and a way to show that he truly cares for that scamp..”

“This is what you both need, I think it’ll be good for you,” Natsaha observed, setting the mug down to clasp her hands together. A trademark sign she was worried and Bucky noticed. “I’m just a little worried, is all - don’t give me that look. You know how Steve can get when it comes to letting people in. Thor’s love is big and loud, with his whole heart. Do you think Steve will accept that?”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll knock some sense into him. He’s done enough punishing himself - it’s time he let someone into his heart and be happy.”

“And you think Thor can help with that?”

“I think Thor is the first person who knew both Steve with and without the mask, who looked at Steve and simply saw Steve, not a man wearing a costume.” Bucky’s voice grew rough, clearing his throat. “Sarah would’ve loved Peggy, would’ve loved Thor, Nat. I often find myself thinking of that when I can’t sleep... She would’ve loved anyone who could’ve made her little boy happy.”

“I’m glad to see you’re not falling down the ‘he’s my best friend and I don’t trust anyone with him’ route. I’m told you were terrible about that, back in the day,” she taunted him, barely able to repress a grin.

“And who told you that? Because they’re bloody fuckin’ liars!” Bucky’s face was starting to turn a bright red, starting over the tip of his ears and rapidly flooding his cheeks. “Did Steve tell you that? You know you can’t believe a thing he says!”

“It’s bits of that, bits of this but this...” She waved her fingers to indicate the warmth rapidly filling his face. “This is telling enough. Look at you - you’re lighting up like Rudolf! Who was it? Was it Carter that you trie to give the ‘don’t hurt him shovel talk to’?”

“Am I still alive and breathing in front of you? Then of course I didn’t try to give her that shovel talk! She would’ve bitten my head off and I would’ve deserved whatever happened. It was some gal back before the war. Dottie - she stood Steve up not once, not twice but three times. Poor guy just kept getting head over heels for her. Not that I blame him, she was quite the doll but just liked to get him worked up.”

“Poor guy - did the shovel talk end well?”

Bucky kept his gaze steady as he drank the rest of the tea, ignoring the heat in his face. “Of course not that...that brat bit me when I got onto her. Didn’t even corner her, didn’t yell but she went feral and tried to bite me, left a scar on my hand. See...?”

He raised his left hand to show her, the memory of that blonde curly haired gal throwing herself at him lost as the sunlight caught on the metallic features. His cheeks pinked at the realization and quickly pulled away, much to Natasha’s laughing.

“Anyway,” Bucky pressed on, clearing his throat. “I’m ready and happy for Steve to not be alone, to find and accept love. Thor makes him happy, Thor makes him relaxed, and remember he’s just human. That’s the most any of us could ask for. Even if there’s the worry that what if Thor hurts him, another loss might break Steve for good.”

“He won’t be broken,” Natasha promised, laying her hand comfortingly on his thigh. “We help them both learn more about each other.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop snooping for the moment and help us with the Halloween Event?”

“If you have to ask me that, James, do you even know me?” She nudged him with her shoulder, earning a little smile from the stoic man.

“Hey now, that’s a bit hurtful,” he teased, leaning into her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You really care about us, don’t you? Look at you, growing soft.”

She laughed, throwing her head back and pulling Bucky tighter into a fierce hug. “I’ve been alone most of my life and you and Steve, in your own manners, taught me I deserve kindness in my life - that we are all more than our pasts. I owe the two of you my life time and time again.”

Bucky felt something like warmth settling over his chest, leaning back so he was fully laid back in her lap, her fingers threading through his hair. Over the years, they’d just grown closer to one another with their shared experiences, coming to a deep understanding that resulted in their closeness.

“Thank you,” he breathed, eyes fluttering shut. “Thank you for caring about him when I couldn’t, when the world just saw him as a hero and nothing more.”

“Always, Yasha.” She closed her eyes to enjoy the warmth and the feel of him pressed against her. “Now, let’s talk about this plan of yours.”

She continued to hum pleasantly as she picked up her forgotten tablet, tapping away on it for some time. She allowed this time to pass, to give Bucky the moment to just rest and be, knowing he hadn’t been able to rest in quite some time. Finally, she nudged him to sit up and showed him the neighborhood maps and even the start of the guest list and food for the party.

“This is a map of neighborhoods known to give out the best candy, to have that ‘old feeling atmosphere’ I’ll handle the security for the route, make sure everything is safe, that no one will bother us.” Natasha’s fingers flew over the tablet to expand on the neighborhoods and potential routes.

“You think of everything, don’t you?” Bucky gushed, taking the tablet to study the routes. “You’re brilliant - Sarah would’ve loved you, Natasha.”

Thor found Steve in his apartment, fresh from the shower and dressed in a pair of jeans and one of Thor’s old sweatshirts. The sight of his beloved wearing his clothes - the sight making Steve look somehow smaller and more vulnerable caused his heart to seize.

He couldn’t help himself in wrapping his arms around him from behind, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck.

“Hey you,” Steve attempted a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I made some eggs and toast - I wasn’t sure if you’d already eaten.”

“Thank you, my heart.” He took the plate, noting that his portion was smaller than his own - another sign that Steve was openly neglecting himself. He forced himself not to think of it in focus of getting the toast and butter for the table.

They settled at the small table by the window, Thor taking careful bites as he watched Steve push his eggs around the plate more than actually eating them. The morning light casted long shadows across Steve’s face, the dark circles standing out against his fair skin.

“You didn’t sleep well,” Thor observed, breaking the silence.

Steve shrugged, not meeting his eyes as he forced himself to take a bite. “Nightmares. It’s just the time of year.”

“Hm - would you like to talk about them?”

“Not really,” Steve lowered the fork to take a few sips of his black coffee. “They’re just...memories, mostly. Things I can’t change, people I can’t save, the pattern continues.”

Thor took a risk, knowing this risked pushing Steve away in his attempt at comfort. “You know, my heart, you don’t have to carry those memories alone. I’m here and others are too, if you ever want to share them.”

Steve’s gaze finally met his and Thor saw the deep pain. “Thor, this isn’t fair to you. You don’t want to hear about my guilt or this pain.”

“Fair to me?” Thor repeated, his voice gentle but firm. “Steven Grant Rogers, I love you. All of you. The bright joy, the grieving, and everything in between. Your pain is not a burden to me and it will never be. It’s part of who you are and I want to know all of you.”

Steve felt his throat tighten, coughing a bit as he lowered his mug. “I...dreamed about her last Halloween,” he whispered. “Our last one together - she was already sick but trying to hide it. She wanted me to keep making magic for people, even after she was gone.”

“Haven’t you?” Thor asked softly. “You yourself, not the man in the mask.”

Steve’s laugh was tinted with bitterness. “How can I? Everyone I knew is gone - the neighborhood, there’s no one to keep that tradition alive that would understand.”

“It’s all changed, yes, time has moved on and forgotten you but, my heart, you can find new people to share them with,” Thor said, squeezing Steve’s hand gently. “New hands to carry forward what she taught you. It might not be the same but it’ll still be her magic carrying it forward.”

Steve pulled his hand back and looked out the window. “I wish it was that simple but it’s not, Thor.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Because...” Steve trailed off, his voice tapering off. He clenched the table hard enough to feel it splinter slightly. “It feels like betrayal... Like if I’m happy and moved on, if I created new traditions with new people, then I’m...I’m forgetting her and all she sacrificed for us. I’m letting her memory fade away until the memory fades into - into nothing.”

Thor hesitated before the sound of his chair scraping against the floor stood and he knelt beside Steve’s chair, taking both of his hands into his own.

“Look at me, Steven.”

Reluctantly, Steve turned to face him, his face flushed.

“Your mother’s memory lives in you,” Thor said firmly but kindly. “In every act of kindness you show, in every person you help, in every decision you make. You honor her every single day by just being you, Steve. Creating new joys, new traditions - that doesn’t erase her, that honors her. It’s proof that her love has made you strong enough to survive.”

“But...” Steve’s eyes filled with tears, blinking hard to clear them. “You didn’t know her. You can’t understand-”

“You’re right. I didn’t know her but I know the pain of loss of ones mother. I lost my mother too and I know you,” Thor interrupted him. “The man you are is a testament to how much she loved you. Every good thing about you, every reason I fell in love with you - that came from her and you. From the way she raised you, to how her values and lessons stick to you even now.”

A few tears slipped down his cheek. “I miss her so much. Every October - it’s like losing her all over again. I can’t make it stop hurting.”

“I know, I know,” Thor whispered, wiping the tears away. “I know it does, I know how the pain chokes you and makes it difficult to breathe, to push through the day. Maybe grief is just love with nowhere to go and that...that has to be okay. You are Steve Rogers and you’re allowed to hurt, to grieve, to miss her. You are allowed to carry that grief for the rest of your life.”

“B-But?”

“But you’re also allowed to be happy,” Thor continued. “You’re allowed to love again. To find joy again, to create new memories while honoring the old. Your mother would want you to be happy.”

“You sound like her right now...she used to say the best revenge was happiness.”

“A very wise woman.” Thor rose to press a kiss to the corner of Steve’s lip. “Who raised a very brave, wise son. Eat for me, pretty please?”

There was some relief as Steve started to eat with more purpose, taking his time between bites of eggs and toast. They ate in silence, Thor noting how tension had drained from Steve’s shoulders. He felt like he could breathe easier now as he picked up the dishes to load them them into the dishwasher.

It was then that Steve hit him with the question, pure curiosity and a hint of concern, “What were you and Bucky really doing with Tony this morning?”

Thor nearly dropped the cup he was holding, forcing himself to slowly put it onto the rack while he raced through his thoughts. He turned, keeping his expression neutral. Perhaps too neutral.

“I told you, Steve - Tony wanted our input on his security upgrades.”

Steve nodded in a way that said he didn’t quite believe him. “Right... Security upgrades. That’s why Bucky looked like he was ready to cry.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement and Thor internally cursed. Of course Steve noticed that - he should’ve been prepared for that. “Bucky was emotional about something else. While we were with Tony, we started to discuss old memories. Sometimes the past is heavy for him too.”

Steve studied him for a long moment, head tilting to the side. Finally, he sighed and shrugged. “Okay, if you say so.”

“I do say so, so let’s put that matter behind us. What would you like to do with the rest of our morning?”

Steve’s smile was small but genuine. “Can we just...stay in? Watch a movie? I just want to be around you.”

“Of course, my heart,” Thor replied immediately, returning Steve’s smile. “Anything you want, my heart, anything at all.”

As they settled on the couch together, Thor with a blanket around both of them and Steve tucked against his chest, he sent a quick text to Bucky: Making progress - keep planning. Steve suspects something but won’t push. He wants to rest. We’re doing a movie day.

Bucky’s response came after they started the movie: Good - Nat’s on board. She’ll get the little details we didn’t consider.

Thor hoped he was right, because feeling Steve relax against him and the comforting scent of his shampoo, with the movie in the background, he was even more determined to give him back some of what he’d lost.

Chapter Text

With Thor now comforting Steve and forcing him to have some sort of movie day, Bucky shot him a text to promise he’ll secure Barton’s assistance. If Thor was with him, Barton might feel cornered into helping them, rather than truly wanting to. He might be able to get Clint on their side much easier going with this solo.

Much as Clint could get on his nerves, and trust him, Clint got on his nerves, he was important to this role - he understood joy and spectacle more than any of them were willing to admit. He would be vital to this plan as someone who knew what it meant to perform even when your heart was breaking.

He sent a quick text to Clint, turning on his heels to march where he might be, Roof. Now. Need to talk. Please.

The response came almost immediately. Give me a few. Trying something.

Trying something could range from a new unusual sandwich combo (he wouldn’t knock cranberry mustard and chicken again) to doing something stupidly dangerous and knowing Clint...it was anywhere in between.

Bucky took the stairs two at a time, the physical exertion helped him clear his head and process everything that had been discussed between Tony and Natasha. He’d opened up to Natasha about Sarah and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He trusted her with the information, of course, but it had left him feeling vulnerable. Something had cracked open in his chest that he kept sealed for far too long.

The door to the roof groaned as Bucky forced it open, stepping out into the crisp air. It stung his lungs as he breathed in deeply, the sounds of the city coming alive around him. And of course Barton was nowhere to be seen.

He sighed, walking to the edge of the roof and looked out over the skyline. Whatever thoughts were brewing on the edge of his brain was lost when he spotted movement beneath him. Hanging from one of the support beams was Clint. He was suspended upside down, like some deranged bat, only saved by legs hooked through a complicated rigging system. He had his arms crossed over his chest, fighting against gravity as he stared out at the city.

He had to admit, Barton did look comfortable.

“Barton!” Bucky shouted, leaning over the edge. “What the hell are you doing?”

Clint’s head tilted further back so he could see who was shouting at him, grinning up at Bucky. “Thinking! Everything looks different upside down - helps me sort my thoughts. You should try it some time.”

Of course it did - Bucky just shook his head and fought the smile tugging on his lips. It would be Clint who used the laws of physics to help accelerate his thoughts.

“I think that’s the most circus logic I’ve ever heard,” Bucky called back, “And I’ve known you for years - come up. We need to talk!”

“Well you know what they say - you can take the boy out of the circus but-” Clint’s voice was cheerful, unbothered about the deadly drop with no safety net beneath him. “But you can’t take the circus out of the boy! Hold on.”

Bucky watched, equal parts impressive and horrified as Clint executed what he could only describe as a complicated ab curl. Clint grabbed the support beam, unhooked his legs with casual grace, and slipped himself upright in one fluid motion. He landed in a crouch on the platform before scaling the side of the building like this was the most natural thing in the world.

For Clint it was - so was appearing over the edge with a half-eaten sandwich stuffed in his mouth. He offered the bitten sandwich to Bucky, sitting on the edge with a satisfied grin. When Bucky declined it, Clint shoved it into his mouth and hummed.

“Next time, please warn someone when you’re hanging dangerously off the edge of the building, Barton.” There was no heat to his retort - this was just Clint being Clint - equal parts brilliant and absolutely insane. Not that he’d ever admit that outloud.

“Jarvis knew and I’m sure Natasha knew too. So what’s up, Buck? Your text had that I need a favor energy. Not often you text me.”

Bucky glanced around the rooftop, taking in the privacy, the lack of cameras - good. He needed this conversation to be honest and he wasn’t so sure how much Steve was listening everywhere with his suspicions.

“It’s about Steve,” he said softly, Clint’s expression shifted from that playful to focus, even leaning closer to hear him better over the sounds of the city.

Clint nodded somberly. “The October thing?”

“You’ve...noticed?” Bucky tried to keep the stun out of his voice - Clint never seemed to pay much attention unless it interested him.

“Course I have. He’s my friend!” Clint actually looked offended, nose wrinkling as he tossed his sandwich over the edge and seemed to regret it the moment he did it. “He’s been running the training sim like he’s trying to outrun his own thoughts. Also he’s been doing this thing where he stares out the window without blinking - it’s creepy. I think the record was like twenty minutes.”

“You’ve noticed.” Bucky stated, scrubbing at his face. “He’s going to burn out those eyes outta his head doing that.”

“It’s hard not to notice when he’s wearing his guilt like a second uniform.” He shrugged, like discussing your coworker slash friend’s emotional well being was something causual. “Plus, I know what it looks like when someone’s drowning in their own head - so do you. Question is - what do we do about it?”

Bucky settled onto the ledge, more careful and less casual then Clint. He swung his legs and let the breeze wash over him, breathing slowly. He should’ve expected it to be this easy for Clint, to willingly jump head-first into helping Steve. “We’re throwing him a Halloween Party. Or...rather Thor is. Trying to recreate the kind of Halloween his ma used to make for us when we were kids.”

Clint was quiet for a moment, tilting his head back and breathing deeply. His fingers absently tapped the rhythm of something only he could hear against Bucky’s palm - a tell that he was processing, thinking it forward. Finally he opened his eyes and tilted his head to study Bucky in a way that made him want to squirm.

“Let me get this straight, Buck, you want my help to throw Steve Rogers a Halloween party based off of his nostalgia?”

“Yes...?”

“And you came to me - the guy who never really got to celebrate Halloween and only learned about it from the shitty foster homes and my circus days - for help?”

“Yes?” Bucky repeated, lips tugging into a frown. “I trust you, believe it or not, Barton. You, like many of us, know what it’s like to lose your sense of belonging, your family. You know what it’s like to eventually find people who see you - really see you. Steve deserves that - from us, from all of us.”

Clint’s jaw tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his features before he pushed it down with the years of practice he had to hide it away. “You know I would’ve said yes, Barnes, you didn’t have to fight dirty.”

“I had to pull out all the shots.” Bucky’s grin was momentarily as he showed Clint the notes he and Natasha had been compiling. “We’re just wanting to recreate the feeling... The magic, the magic of it all. When everything was terrible and scary but for one magical night, it felt like everything wasn’t so bad.”

Clint took the phone, scrolling through the notes with his tongue between his teeth. His expression shifted from guarded to thoughtful then to wistful. “You know what Halloween meant when I was going through it all?”

Recognizing Clint’s need to talk through his thoughts, Bucky nodded in encouragement. “No, tell me.”

“It...it’s stupid, alright? So don't judge me.” Clint’ laughed, passing the phone back to Bucky. “It was the one night of year where being a freak was celebrated. Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s true - think about it. I’m a deaf guy who shoots arrows for a living, just the setting changes. I grew up in the circus, with actual carnies, learning tricks from a man who trained me to be a criminal, with my brother who...whose relationship is complicated. Most folks looked at me like I was a liability and hell maybe they’re right.”.

He stood up so fast that it made Bucky flinch, but it went unnoticed by Clint. He was now pacing the ledge, careful balance. The afternoon sun caught the smile radiating from him, the excitement clearly bubbling from him. “On Halloween - everyone gets to be the weird guy. Even if that’s the weird guy with the bow. Everyone wants to be a superhero, a villain, or a monster. For just one night, normal is boring, strange, and celebrated.”

Bucky watched him pace, a warmth spreading through his limbs. “So it was liberating.”

“Yes but more than that!” Clint stopped, balancing on one foot on the edge. It gave Bucky a heart attack, wanting to pull him away. “At the circus, Halloween was huge. We’d go all out and the ‘normal’ folks in the audience were trying to be like us! Like us! Jacques was a bastard most of the time, drunk and mean, always reminding me I was some orphan kid he adopted, so he could just...do away with me, no one would remember or miss me. Yet every Halloween...”

Clint’s voice softened now and Bucky saw the ghost of the young boy still living in Clint, “Every Halloween, he’d let me help with his costume. He’d teach me about theatrics and the duty of putting on a good performance. He’d always tell me, ‘Halloween is when everyone gets to be their most honest self.’ I mean sure, most kiddos aren’t Ultron or zombies or whatever - I never knew what he meant until I was an adult.”

“Their most honest self? By pretending to be someone else?” Bucky hummed, hand half raised to hover over grabbing Clint in case he started to fall.

“Exactly!” Clint’s fingers snapped, a pure manic energy that made him brilliant and dangerous. “When you’re wearing a mask, you just giant confidence. You can be who you really are, without worrying about judgement. The costume gives you permission to just...be.”

“How does this...?”

“Help Steve?” Clint finished the question, hopping to his other foot. “Steve’s problem isn’t that he’s lost in his past, Buck. It’s that he’s...a scared, little boy hidden behind his mask. He’s forgotten how to play, how to just be human. He’s wearing the wrong mask and he’s burnt up - he needs to be reminded who Steve Rogers is, the kid from Brooklyn who went trick-or-treating with his mama and best friend.”

Now he got it - a grin spreading across Bucky’s face. “You get it. You get what this means to Steve - to me.”

“Of course I get it. Everytime I put on the Hawkeye persona, I’m doing the same thing - hiding the parts of me that could get others hurt, to use against me, parts that are too broken. But Halloween? Halloween says it’s okay to be broken and whole and silly and serious and scared and brave. All at once!” Clint grinned, a bit breathless now. “In other words - I’ll help. Just tell me where you need me, boss.”

“I’m not your boss,” Bucky pretended that he didn’t feel his throat tighten, that he didn’t feel such relief that he might cry. He’d spent far too much tearing up lately. “We just need you to make this feel magical, without it feeling too polished, too much Stark. Someone who gets the cheapest, most ridiculous stuff are the ones that matter the most, especially from folks who love them.”

Clint spun around, finally jumping down to land on his own two feet, much to Bucky’s relief. He mocked the salute with one hand, the other pulling his phone out. “Aye, aye. I know some folks from my circus days - scattered around and owing me favors. No one does Halloween like us circus folks - we can get face painting, balloon animals, maybe we can teach some kids some tricks. Make it interactive.”

“That sounds like fun and all, Clint, really fun but Steve isn’t a kid. He might find this stuff...beneath him.”

Clint waved the concern off, his cheeks flushed from more than just the cold wind. “You’re right but he’s still a kid at heart, right? Buried under all that grief, responsibility, and pain he insists on dawning like armor. I’m not trying to make him a kid, Buck. I’m trying to show him it’s okay to feel joy again, in the midst of grief. It doesn’t change the pain or doesn’t betray the people we’ve lost - it honors them. At least, that’s what just this carnie thinks.”

Bucky felt this throat tighten - who knew Clint could be such a poetic person. “I care what you think - even if you go ass backwards to explain it. So - you’re in?”

“Doll, Thor is trying to win and prove to Steve that he matters, that his mother deserves to be honored through memory by this Halloween celebration? And Bucky Barnes is asking for my help? How can I say no?” Clint’s laughter was infectious, throwing one arm around his shoulders to pull the man into a fierce hug. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to corrupt Captain America.”

Bucky laughed, a really loud hysterical laugh that just let out all of the pain he’d been building up for these weeks. “You’re a fucking idiot but if anyone could corrupt Captain America, it’s you. Lord knows I’ve been trying for so long.”

“All you need is just some influence.” Clint’s eyes gleamed as he thought about what was to come. “Alright - technical question here. How accurate do we need to be? I’m thinking - and really hear me out - we start with what he’s comfortable with, then expand it into something new. I know, I know how...dangerous that can be but we can handle it.”

Bucky considered it, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he mulled it over. He thought over what Thor had said about creating new traditions while honoring old ones and he was right. Clint’s idea was settling into place like a piece of the puzzle he hadn’t considered. “That’s actually perfect. Start with what feels safe, what he remembers, then show him where joy can grow and change doesn’t mean traditions lose their meaning."

“Exactly. Plus.” Clint added with a wink. “I’m selfish, alright? I really want to see Thor in a costume. A God dressing up for our silly holiday - the irony alone is worth it.”

“You’re an idiot, Barton.”

“Yeah but I’m your idiot now. You made that clear.”

Clint pulled Bucky into a tight hug, not one believing a quick pat on the back was just a simple hug. A hug had meaning, softness, enveloped the other in a manner that showed they were thought of, protected, and comforted. Bucky normally would’ve pulled away in insistence that he was fine but with Clint’s advantage of his height and his muscles, Bucky fell into the hug and allowed Clint to hold onto him, his own arms slowly snaking around him to hold him tightly.

“Steve’s gonna be okay,” Clint promised and for the second - no third time that day, Bucky believed them. The tension in his chest slightly lessened. “We’re gonna make this happen, alright? Just need a few carnie tricks up our sleeves.”

Back in Thor’s apartment, the movie was rolling credits silently across the screen, casting shadows across the darkened room. Steve was tucked against Thor’s chest, the blanket cocooned around them.

Thor’s hand slowly stroked up and down Steve’s spine, feeling Steve’s tension slowly relaxing. Steve’s breath was evening out and he felt warm against him.

“You still with me?” Thor murmured, breaking the tender silence. He pressed a kiss to the top of Steve’s head, moving his hand to stroke the nape of his neck.

“Mhm,” Steve hummed after a moment. “Just...comfortable. I haven’t felt this relaxed in weeks. You’re right - I needed this.”

Thor chuckled warmly against Steve’s hair, glad to know he was ‘right’ in his beloved’s eyes. He didn’t press Steve to talk, allowing the silence to stress and just enjoying him there. When Steve finally spoke, his voice was soft and he hesitated, trying to voice the questions that must’ve been haunting him for so long, “Do you...feel guilty? For being happy, I mean.”

Thor’s hand stilled, closing his eyes. His free arm wrapped around Steve to hold him closer. He thought of his mother, the grief that hit him hard and left him unable to breathe. At leat he could still speak to his mother at times, to know she was there... but for Steve - he didn’t have that option.

“Aye, sometimes. There’s...this voice that whispers I don’t deserve to feel happiness, not when I couldn’t share it with her.”

Steve peeked up at him, through his thick lashes. “What do you do when...when the voice shows up? When you can’t argue with it?”

“I try to remember my mother - she would tell me that joy is not a betrayal of those we’ve lost. That we deserve to be happy and loved.” Thor resumed his gentle stroking. “They loved us because they wanted us to be happy. I think our mothers would’ve understood each other and wanted us to be happy.”

Steve swallowed, his throat bobbing. He tried to speak several times, his throat tightening. “I...don’t know how to be happy - to be happy without feeling like I’m forgetting her.”

“Then, perhaps, we figure it out together.” Thor tilted Steve’s face to meet his eyes, pressing his lips between them. “You don’t have to have the answers right now, Steven. And that’s okay. Your mother would just be happy to know you’re here.”

Steve’s breath hitched, burying his face back into Thor’s chest to save him from seeing his tears. He was simply held tighter, his shoulders shaking as the silent tears spilled.

Thor didn’t judge him, didn’t rush him - didn’t punish him for crying. He simply let him cry, rubbing his spine. Eventually, Steve’s breathing evened out and Thor realized he’d fallen asleep, exhausted and, he hoped, finally at peace.

After watching Steve sleep for a while, Thor sent a quick text to Bucky: He’s sleeping. First real rest he’s had in days. Whatever we’re doing, we’re doing it right.

The response came quickly: Good - I knew he’d be able to rest around you. Clint’s on board. Tony already ordered a shit ton of decorations and Nat is mapping routes.

Thor smiled, the warmth blossoming in his chest. You’re a good friend, James. In Valhalla, Sarah Rogers is proud of you.

There was a long pause before Bucky responded. That means more to me than you understand. I’ll fill you in tonight - common room around 8.

It was nearly seven when Steve stirred, blinking sleepily against Thor’s chest. “How long was I out?” He asked in a groggy voice.

“A few hours - you needed it. How are you feeling?”

“A bit better,” Steve admitted, sitting up slowly and rubbing at his eyes. I should probably head back to my floor - grab some dinner.”

Thor smiled warmly, understanding that after this emotional day, Steve needed to recharge and be by himself.

“Will you be alright?”

Steve managed a small, true smile, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Thor’s lips. “Yeah - thanks to you, love.”

“Always, my heart.”

After Steve left and Thor had cleaned up the area to keep himself busy and not thinking of him, he went down to the common room. Bucky was already waiting, sprawled on one of the couches with a beer in hand and his notebook open on the coffee table. He looked up when Thor entered, handing the second beer over.

“Figured you could use one.”

Thor accepted it gratefully, setting onto the opposite couch with a soft groan. He took a few sips, letting himself relax in Bucky’s presence. “How’d it go with Clint?”

“Better than expected.” Bucky’s expression was lighter than it had been this morning. “He gets it, Thor. He really gets it. He’s more than willing to help us. When I left, he was calling favors in from hsi circus days. He’s planning face painting, ballon animals, magic tricks, just fun. He was - I’ve never seen Barton so animated before. He wants this fun, to show Steve that he could still be a kid.”

Bucky passed Thor the notebooks he’d been working in. “He suggested we start gradually, things Steve is familiar with, then slowly lead him into something new, fun traditions.”

Thor studied the notes, flipping through them carefully. “That’s - I hate to say this out loud but this is brilliant. Barton really must’ve been thinking this through”.

“Better news - Tony got Mr. Bones! Well not the Mr. Bones but just like him. Steve’s gonna lose it when he sees him.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way.”

Thor grinned, leaning forward and setting the beer down. “Between Stark’s decorations, Romanoff’s mapping, and now Barton’s contacts... It might be coming together.” He wanted to hope but the idea of losing this precious, fragile plan...he didn’t want to think of it. “What else do we need?”

“Food, mostly. Sarah’s recipes if we can find them.” Bucky met Thor’s eyes, fingers tapping on the notebook. “That’s where Mrs. Chen comes in, Sam is tracking her down now. If he finds her, we’ll have recipes and hopefully deeply embarrassing stories to tell.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, Bucky found Thor in the common kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. He accepted the one handed to him, greedily drinking it down with a soft grunt of thanks. Thor looked tired, but determined, his hair pulled back into a messy bun and wearing a sweat shirt and jeans suggesting he’d been up early.

“You get any sleep?” Bucky asked, after he was halfway done with his cup.

“Same amount that you got,” Thor teased, enjoying their budding friendship. He eyed the exhausted lines on Bucky, but said nothing. “Steve’s still sleeping - checked on him an hour ago. He looks like he’s finally getting some real rest.”

“Hm, I was up most of the night going over the plans. Trying to figure out how logically we could do this...” Bucky set the mug down, clearing his throat. “Good - Steve needs sleep. We should talk to Bruce, get him on board before Steve starts to get suspicious. Then Sam...”

“Agreed. I would like to get his...insight on this. Bruce offers some unique views.”

They found Bruce in his lab - in the more comfortable part that looked more lived than Thor assumed the man’s actual floor. The couch was comfortable, with piles of blankets and pillows, a few winter coats scattered around. Forgotten mugs of tea littering the tables, another in Bruce’s hand when he turned in his overly padded leather recliner to greet them.

He looked up as they entered, gesturing to the seats. “Come in, sit, sit. Tea?”

Thor declined, sitting down on the edge of the couch while Bucky made himself comfortable beside him. “Thank you but no. We’re...here on a more serious note, Bruce.”

“Steve?” Bruce asked simply, a touch of a smile on his lips.

“How’d you...”

“Thor, you’ve been hovering around Steve like a worried thundercloud for days. Bucky’s been stressed enough that he’s snapped at Tony for sneezing too loud. Tony’s been making mysterious purchases, the packages are piling up. Natasha’s doing that thing where she pretends she’s not planning something elaborate, but we all know she is. And Sam has been using FRIDAY and conversing with someone named... Ms. Chen?” Bruce looked down at them over the rim of his glasses. “It doesn’t take seven PhDs to notice something is going on.”

Bucky was actually impressed, raising his brow and sitting back. “Well - we’re recreating Halloween for Steve - the way his ma used to for us. We’d like your help, Bruce.”

Bruce fell quiet for a moment, enough for them to fear that he would turn them away. Instead, he stood and moved to the window, opening the blinds enough to let the morning light in. “You know...my father used to lock me in the basement on Halloween, claiming it was the Devil’s holiday and I needed to pray for my sins to be abolished.” His voice was flat, matter - of - fact speaking. “Through the darkness, I’d hear the kids outside, laughing, having fun. I had no window, no light, just to sit in this...musky, dark room and listen.”

Bucky felt his stomach twist, knowing the horrors of abuse. Thor’s expression darkened, shifting. His hands clenched together.

“Later, when I was on the run... I’d end up in these small towns on Halloween nights. I tried to avoid them but something about the uniqueness drew me, the safety in less of numbers. To be able to keep to myself.” Bruce turned back to face them, removing his glasses and putting them in the pocket of his shirt. “I’d watch kids dress as monsters, running around without fear. Taking everything dark and making it playful. They’d have little festivals in the streets, strangers, neighbors coming together to celebrate this...this holiday. They transferred fear into fun for one night and it made me think...it made me think - maybe I can learn to do that with what I am.”

“Bruce-” Thor started, unsure of what to say.

“The Hulk is scary. I’m scary,” Bruce’s interrupted, his smile soft, genuine. “But these kids...they taught me that scary doesn’t have to mean bad. That transformation can be beautiful, instead of violent. Monsters can be heroes.”

He moved back to his chair and looked at Bucky with a warmth in his eyes. “Sarah understood that - she took poverty, sickness, fear - everything dark and terrifying - and transformed it into magic. She taught you two that joy can exist alongside pain. That’s not just love, it’s alchemy.”

Bucky felt his throat tighten again, clearing his throat. “That’s exactly what she did but how did you know?”

“Because I studied Captain America, the serum, and Steve for a time. Gamma Rays, remember?” He tapped his curls, shrugging. “By studying Steve, I studied the years you two were raised. Just put two and two together. So - what do you need from me?”

Thor leaned forward, sharing a look with Bucky. “We’re not sure... We have the decorations, food plans, routes, but we’re missing something-”

“You’re missing the transformation,” Bruce said immediately. “Halloween isn’t just about nostalgia, it’s about change. You need to show Steve that grief can become celebration. That Sarah’s magic doesn’t end - it evolved.”

He took the notebook Bucky offered him and read over it, with his tongue between his teeth. “You have the right plan - start familiar. Then surprise him with something new - wonder. But the key? Show him he’s not preserving her memory alone - we will all carry it. From solitary grief to shared joy.”

“That’s exactly what Sarah would’ve wanted, what we’ve been trying to get him to understand - you don’t hold onto pain. Sarah would’ve wanted him to transform that pain - not into art, but into something that could be shared.”

“Like how you transform,” Thor said, understanding dawning on him.

“Bingo. The Other Guy used to terrify me, but now? He’s part of who I am. The fear didn’t go away - I just learned to let him be something other than a monster.” Bruce looked between them, passing the notebook back. “We will help Steve see that grief doesn’t have to be a monster.”

Bucky stood, pulling Bruce into a tight hug. The scientist melted against him. “Thank you for getting it - for caring, for helping us.”

“We’re a family - that’s what we do.”

When they left the lab with Bruce’s assistance now added to his notes, Bucky felt like he could finally breathe. He had to pause them in walking down the hall, pressing a hand against his eyes to fight the swell of emotions.

“Everytime someone understands what she meant to us...it makes her feel like she’s still with us. I know that’s cheesy but it’s the best way I can sum up my emotions.”

Thor squeezes his shoulder gently, a comforting touch. “It’s not cheesy, James. I think it’s quite fitting.”

Bucky smiled in response, pulling his phone out to send a group text. Bruce is in - says we need to show Steve grief can transform into something beautiful.

Natasha replied quickly, like she’d been waiting for this. Banner’s smart than anyone gives him credit for.

Tony: When do we tell Cap? I’m vibrating with excitement.

Sam: Could be the caffeine too. We don’t - not until it’s ready. Buck, Thor, meet me for lunch? Steve left like half an hour ago, stating Fury wanted to meet him.

Bucky sighed at the idea of Steve possibly dragging himself into Shield business when he should be taking it easy. “Well, at least, it leaves us free for lunch with Sam without lying to Steve.”

“Silver linings,” Thor agreed. “I’m tired of lying to him - it’s exhausting.”

“We’re almost to the end, buddy. Just a few more days of planning.”