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Steve wakes to gentle tapping on the windows, too distant to be a true disturbance, more like a comforting presence that brings him to open his eyes. It's raining and the bedroom is cast in gentle light.
There's the subtle shifting of the comforter on Bucky's side of the bed- he's sitting up, yawning quietly, running a hand through dark hair that's sticking up on one side. Not for the first time, Steve muses that there is literally nothing better to wake up to.
"Good morning, beautiful," croaks Steve, stretching a hand across the sheets to Bucky.
"Oh look, the dead have risen," Bucky smirks, lacing their fingers together and leaning over for a peck on the cheek.
"Don't make fun," Steve mumbles, turning over, "I'm all worn out."
Bucky's chuckle is only slightly teasing. "Oh, is that right?"
"Yes- Buck, where are you going?" there is no helping the slight whine from entering Steve's voice when Bucky moves to get off the bed.
"Breakfast?" Bucky stops just short of letting his ridiculously cute dog slippers from touching the ground, "I was gonna bring you a platter, make it a nice Christmas breakfast in bed-"
"Oh, come here, you," Steve lets the weight of his sleepy body drag Bucky back into the blankets, "Forget breakfast- but thank you anyways."
"You sure? I could go and-" but Bucky is already settling back into the warmth of Steve's arms and Steve knows that he's succeeded this time around. "What about our morning run-"
"Nope," Steve shakes his head lazily into his pillow, pressing a kiss to the back of Bucky's neck, "No running today." Steve is usually the one who urges Bucky to run with him, but no matter.
Twisting to look at him and also drawing the comforter back around himself, Bucky laughs, "Okay then, lazy."
"Shhh..." Steve buries his face into Bucky's flannel pajamas, "Not lazy. Complacent."
"There's a difference?"
Steve sighs happily when Bucky runs fingers through his hair, playing with the ends. "Don't know and don't really care at this point," he mutters, eyes feeling heavy again. He could lay here forever, just letting Bucky play with his hair and hearing the steady drum of rain around them.
"Don't remember the last time we really slept in," Bucky himself sounds like the lax atmosphere is settling in.
Steve hums his agreement.
"I've got projects to grade, later," Bucky mentions off-handedly, stifling another yawn, "Wanna help?"
"Later, much later," is Steve's answer, "Those seventh-grade munchkins can wait." Bucky's occupation as a seventh grade chemistry teacher is what makes sleeping in pretty much impossible, so Steve thinks it's reasonable to put his students on the back burner for the moment. The back Bunsen burner that is. Ha.
He'll tell Bucky the pun later. For now, they lie in bed soaking in the warmth and weight of each other. More than once, Steve lapses into a semi-sleeping state, dozing with little thought besides how much he loves his current state. Arms wrapped around Bucky's waist, one of Bucky's hands in his hair, the other curled at the front of Steve's shirt.
There is no way for Steve to tell how much time has passed when Bucky stretches minutely in Steve's embrace before settling in again.
"Well, good morning," Steve mumbles- he has no intention of getting out of bed any time soon, but he realizes this is the most well-rested he's felt in too long.
There's a little more shuffling when Bucky checks his watch and laughs, "It's eleven fifteen, it's barely morning anymore."
"Shhhhh..." says Steve again, smile quirking at his lips, "It's technically still morning."
"Hey, I'm not complaining," there's a ghost of a chuckle over the top of Steve's head, "We should enjoy it while we can. I mean, wait until we have a coupla rugrats running around."
Steve loves the way Bucky says "rugrats" with the most affectionate tone. Steve loves the way Bucky never sounds impatient about it, only excited with the knowledge it will happen. Steve loves the way Bucky lies so he's taller than Steve so Steve can rest his head somewhere in the region of Bucky's collarbone.
"I love you," Steve lets his lips graze over the beginnings of stubble on the underside of Bucky's jaw.
It doesn't matter if Steve's eyes are drifting shut again, because he can hear Bucky's smile when he says, "I love you too."
Much later, it will occur to them to actually wish each other a Merry Christmas, but for now, it's not needed. It's a slow, lazy morning of meandering thoughts and perfect possibilities and clasped hands and half-conscious kisses and soft rain.