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[onlyforthedream]

The Winchester was gracious enough, in the aftermath of the mess that was Halloween, to let me make off with some of their beer. I get to Bucky's in the early afternoon and wrap my knuckles twice against his door before sitting on the stoop and unpacking the still relatively cold drinks.

It's not much of a celebration, but then, I don't think we really feel like celebrating. Still, the day deserves to be marked.

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[onlyapassenger]

"...Steve?"

Bucky doesn't come from inside, instead poking his head around the corner of the porch. He'd been out back, doing a bit of mindless maintenance on a bike he'll never be able to ride anywhere, a streak of grease running down one cheek while the rest stains his hands. Grabbing the dirty rag that's hanging out of his back pocket, he attempts to clean himself off, dismissing it as a lost cause as far as his metal hand is concerned as he hops up the stairs.

His eyes immediately land on the beer, and a question is at the tip of his tongue before he remembers the date.

"Christ, it's that time of year already?"