It started with Sam. Of course it did.

For the last week, Bucky’s phone had been blowing up with text after text — videos, memes, and TikToks of people putting together something called “boo baskets” for their partners. Every message came with a caption from Sam like,

“Hey, Buck. Be a good boyfriend for once.” or “You better step up before she realizes you’re still living in the 40s, man.”

At first, Bucky ignored them. He wasn’t exactly a crafts and candles type of guy. But then one night, while he was sitting on the couch with his arm slung around you, your laughter filled the room as you scrolled through similar videos.

You showed him one of a girl opening a basket full of Halloween snacks, cozy socks, and little gifts, your eyes bright with that same joy that melted him every damn time.

“That’s adorable,” you’d said with a smile, leaning against him. “Some people are just so thoughtful.”

You didn’t mean anything by it — he knew that. But the way your voice softened on the word thoughtful… it stuck with him.

So now, Bucky Barnes — the man who once dismantled Hydra cells with military precision — stood in the middle of a Target aisle, squinting at a display of pumpkin-shaped mugs like they were some kind of alien technology.

“Why are there so many kinds of socks?” he muttered, picking up a pair with little ghosts on them. “Why do ghosts even need socks?”

An older woman beside him chuckled, clearly amused by the sight of a six-foot-something super soldier with a metal arm and a basket full of plushies, snacks, and fall-scented candles. “You’re doing great, dear,” she told him with a wink. “Whoever it’s for is lucky.”

He grunted, ears turning pink. “Thanks. She, uh… she likes pumpkin stuff.”

By the time he got home, the bag was nearly bursting. He spent over an hour at his kitchen table — arranging, rearranging, and second-guessing everything. Did the candy corn look stupid? Should he have gotten the cinnamon candle or the apple one? Sam would never let him live this down if he knew how seriously Bucky was taking it.

When you came over later that evening, you were greeted not by Bucky’s usual low grunt and casual “hey, doll,” but by the faint scent of vanilla and cinnamon — and him standing awkwardly in the living room beside a basket wrapped in orange cellophane and tied with a slightly crooked bow.

“Uh… hey,” he started, scratching the back of his neck. “So… apparently people are doing this thing. For Halloween. ‘Boo baskets,’ or whatever.”

You blinked, then your face lit up with delight as you looked down at the basket. It was stuffed with all your favorites — your favorite tea, chocolate, a tiny plush black cat, a pumpkin mug, fuzzy socks, a candle that read “Hey boo”, and even a small notebook with a note tucked inside.

You looked up at him, eyes wide and shining. “Bucky… did you make this for me?”

He shifted uncomfortably, cheeks flushing just slightly.

“Yeah, well… Sam sent me all these damn videos. Figured I’d, uh… try it. Thought you’d like it.”

You smiled so wide it made his chest ache.

“You made me a boo basket.”

“I attempted to,” he corrected quickly. “Don’t go expecting me to be one of those Pinterest people or whatever.”

You laughed softly, stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. He froze for half a second — old habits — then melted into you, resting his chin against your hair.

“You did perfect,” you whispered against his chest. “This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

He hummed quietly, lips curving into a faint, content smile as he held you a little tighter.

“Yeah, well… don’t tell Sam. He’ll never shut up about it.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely telling Sam.”

“Doll—”

“He needs to know you’re capable of being adorable.”

He groaned, but when you looked up at him — grinning, glowing, your arms still around him — he couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed. Because deep down, he knew he’d do it again. Ten times over. Just to see that smile.

And maybe next year, he’d add a little card that said, “Bucky’s Boo.”