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ladysif8 · 14 days ago

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Alpine's Guide to Surviving the Holidays

•Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers •Rating: General Audience •Tags: Recovering Bucky Barnes, Semi-Retired Bucky Barnes, Semi-Retired Steve Rogers, Introducing Alpine, Domestic Bliss, Flirting, Kissing, Boys In Love, Christmas Time, Alpine Is A Furry Demon Kitty, Alpines POV, Alpines Guide, Alpine is Supreme Queen.

Summary: This festive, feline-centered tale offers a glimpse of the holidays from Alpine's perspective, filled with chaos, humor, and a little holiday mischief as she reminds her humans who's really in charge.

Author Note: This is dedicated to my wonderful friend Jess, whose friendship, endless support, and creativity inspire me every day. Thank you for being such an incredible part of my journey. This one's for you!

Greetings, lesser creatures. I am Alpine, supreme ruler of my domain, and it has come to my attention that humans behave even more ridiculously than usual during the "holiday season." As the authority on all matters feline, I have compiled this guide to help my fellow cats navigate—and exploit—this baffling time of year.

Step 1: The Tree

Humans will drag an entire tree into the house (or worse, assemble a fake one) and decorate it with shiny, dangly objects that they insist you must not touch. Nonsense. Those ornaments are clearly meant for us.

Here's how to assert your dominance:

• Start small. Bat at the lower ornaments when no one's looking.

• Once you've mastered subtle swipes, go for a bold climb up the tree. Bonus points if the humans scream in panic.

• Knock over at least one ornament a day. This keeps the humans on their toes and reminds them who's really in charge.

The Christmas tree stood in the corner of the living room, twinkling with strings of lights and shimmering with delicate ornaments, a picture of holiday perfection. It practically radiated smugness, as if it were daring anyone to disrupt its pristine beauty. Alpine, lounging a few feet away, had other plans. Her blue eyes narrowed as she sized it up, her tail flicking rhythmically against the floor. Bucky had told her no at least a dozen times since the tree had gone up, but Alpine wasn't one to take orders. Rules, as far as she was concerned, were for humans—and besides, this tree was asking for it.

She started small. Subtlety was her specialty. Creeping toward the base of the tree with slow, deliberate steps, she kept her movements light and quiet, her tail held low to avoid catching attention. Once in position, her paw shot out, quick as a flash, batting at a low-hanging ornament. It spun lazily on its string, catching the glow of the twinkling lights. Perfect.

Satisfied with her work, Alpine swatted at another one, her claws grazing the shiny surface with a satisfying tink. The sound echoed faintly through the room, and she froze, her ears swiveling toward the kitchen.

"Alpine," Bucky's voice boomed, sharp and warning. "Don't even think about it."

She turned her head slowly, fixing him with her most innocent stare, wide-eyed and sweet. The picture of a good cat. And then, with a flick of her tail, she swatted the ornament again—harder this time, sending it flying across the room. It bounced once on the rug before disappearing under the couch.

"Really?" Bucky groaned, his head poking out from around the corner. He glared at her, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. "That's one a day with you, I swear."

Unbothered, Alpine slunk back to her spot by the couch, watching him retreat to the kitchen. She stretched luxuriously, her claws extending and retracting, before shifting her focus back to the tree. The lower branches were fine for a warm-up, but the real challenge was higher up.

She crouched low, coiling her muscles like a spring. With a sudden leap, she launched herself onto the tree, her claws digging into the branches for stability. The ornaments swayed and jingled with her weight, the lights trembling as she climbed higher. A spray of tinsel fell to the floor, sparkling like confetti in her wake.

From the kitchen, there was a crash of pots, followed by a sharp, familiar yell. "ALPINE!"

Bucky stormed into the living room, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief. "Get out of the tree!"

Alpine paused midway up the trunk, one paw wrapped around a branch for balance. She tilted her head and blinked at him, feigning confusion. What tree? her expression seemed to say.

"Seriously?" Bucky muttered, rushing forward as the tree wobbled dangerously under her weight. He wrapped his arms around the trunk, trying to steady it, but Alpine was already on the move, climbing higher. She batted at a glittering snowflake ornament, sending it tumbling down.

"Alpine, come on!" he pleaded, his voice a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

Deciding she'd caused enough chaos for now, Alpine leaped gracefully from the tree, landing on the coffee table with a soft thump. Behind her, the tree swayed violently but, miraculously, stayed upright. Bucky let out a relieved sigh, muttering to himself as he began straightening the disheveled branches.

But Alpine wasn't done. Not yet. Spying an ornament she'd knocked loose earlier, she padded over and batted it across the floor, chasing it as it rolled in uneven circles.

"Of course," Bucky grumbled, shooting her a tired glare as he fixed the lights. "You're lucky it's Christmas."

Victorious, Alpine flicked her tail and nudged the ornament under the couch, where it would live forever. The tree might have survived round one, but Alpine knew she'd be back. After all, this was her domain. The tree, like everything else in the house, was hers. And it would never truly be safe—not as long as she was around.

Step 2: Wrapping Presents

Humans love to take perfectly good objects and wrap them in noisy, crinkly paper. This, dear friends, is your playground.

• When they roll out the paper, sit directly in the middle of it. This is your territory now.

• Attack the ribbon. It's sparkly, it moves, and it's yours. Shred it mercilessly.

• Bat bows around the room like the tiny foes they are.

• If they attempt to shoo you away, give them your most innocent look. Trust me, it works every time.

Remember: the true purpose of wrapping paper is not to hide presents but to entertain us.

Bucky had barely unrolled the first sheet of wrapping paper when Alpine appeared, materializing from thin air like some kind of crinkly paper clairvoyant. Her ears perked, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she trotted toward him. The sound of paper rustling was like a siren call, and Alpine couldn't resist. She hopped onto the pristine sheet and plopped herself dead center, her tail curling smugly around her paws like a queen settling on her throne.

"Alpine, move," Bucky said, already sounding defeated.

Alpine blinked at him, her wide blue eyes radiating an air of innocence so pure it was borderline insulting. She didn't flinch, didn't budge—didn't even acknowledge his request. When he leaned forward, his hand hovering to shoo her away, she stretched luxuriously, rolling onto her side and making sure to crinkle the paper as loudly as possible.

"Seriously?" he muttered, glaring down at her.

Unfazed, Alpine flicked her tail in slow, deliberate defiance. Bucky let out a heavy sigh and tried working around her, carefully trimming the paper without slicing it into fur. But as he reached for the spool of ribbon, Alpine's ears twitched. Her eyes locked onto the shiny strand as it unfurled, glinting temptingly in the light.

It was too much. With a swipe of her paw, she snagged the ribbon and pinned it to the floor like she'd just caught a wriggling snake.

"Alpine, no!" Bucky snapped, yanking at the ribbon.

Alpine growled softly, swatting again as the ribbon slipped from her grasp. He managed to pull it free and loop it around the box, but Alpine was faster. She pounced, grabbing the ribbon midair and rolling onto her back, clutching it triumphantly in her claws.

"Unbelievable," Bucky groaned, carefully untangling the ribbon from her paws.

He thought he was in the clear, but as soon as his attention shifted back to the gift, Alpine's gaze darted toward her next target: the bows. Shiny, colorful, and scattered across the floor, they were practically begging for her attention. She darted toward the nearest one and swatted it across the room with a triumphant chirp.

"Alpine!" Bucky's voice thundered, but the cat didn't even glance back.

She was already onto the next bow, batting it under the coffee table. It disappeared into the shadows, but Alpine didn't care—there were plenty more. She pounced on another, sliding it across the floor in a spectacularly clumsy arc.

Bucky dropped the roll of tape in his hand and ran both hands down his face. "Why do I even bother?" he muttered to himself.

By the time he turned back, Alpine had returned to the wrapping paper. Now re-rolled in an attempt to salvage it, the paper was no match for her claws. She flopped onto it with theatrical flair, purring loudly as she kneaded her paws into the sheet, puncturing it in several places. The noise was deafening, each crinkling like a personal victory.

Bucky crouched down, trying to salvage what little was left of his materials. "You are literally the worst," he grumbled, gathering the shredded remnants of the bows Alpine had massacred.

Alpine looked up at him with a satisfied gleam in her eyes, her purr vibrating through the room like applause for her own performance. She stretched lazily, flicking her tail in his direction as if to say, You're welcome.

To her, Bucky had it all wrong. Wrapping paper wasn't for gifts—it was a playground. Ribbons weren't for tying; they were for hunting. And bows? They were trophies meant to be batted under furniture where they'd remain for eternity. Judging by the chaotic mess around her, Alpine knew one thing for sure: she was using all of it exactly as it was intended.

Step 3: The Fire

Humans seem to think the fire is the heart of the holiday. While it's not bad—it's warm, after all—it's still no radiator.

• Claim the spot closest to the fire. If a human is already sitting there, stare at them until they move.

• Beware of stockings hanging nearby. They dangle tantalizingly but are oddly difficult to swat down. (Still worth a try.)

• Don't trust the fire's crackling noises. They're suspicious. Stay vigilant.

Alpine padded into the living room, tail high, ears twitching at the crackling sound coming from the fireplace. There it was: the humans' precious fire, flickering and glowing like it owned the room. Warm? Sure. Cozy? Maybe. But it wasn't a radiator, and Alpine wasn't about to let it think it was better than her favorite heat source.

Steve and Bucky sat on the couch, chatting and sipping from their mugs, perfectly positioned in the prime spot near the fire. This was unacceptable. Alpine needed that spot, and she needed it now.

She sat down in the middle of the rug, facing Steve with unblinking eyes. He caught her stare after a few seconds.

"What?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

Alpine kept staring, adding a soft, purposeful flick of her tail for emphasis. Move, human.

Steve glanced at Bucky. "Why is she looking at me like that?"

"She wants your spot," Bucky said without looking up, his tone dripping with familiarity.

"Well, she can't have it," Steve replied, leaning back as if to assert his dominance.

Challenge accepted. Alpine stood, marched over, and sat down directly in front of Steve's feet. She turned her head and gave him her best wide-eyed, sorrowful look. If her tail flicked a little too close to his mug, well, that was just a coincidence.

"Oh, come on," Steve muttered, already shifting uncomfortably. Alpine stared harder, her gaze now a mix of judgment and expectation.

"Just give her the spot," Bucky said, smirking from the other end of the couch. "You're not gonna win."

With a dramatic sigh, Steve stood and moved to the armchair. Alpine hopped into his vacated spot immediately, circling twice before curling up with smug precision. It was warm, sure, but not quite warm enough.

She turned her attention to the stockings hanging above the fire. They dangled there, swaying gently, clearly mocking her. Alpine stood up, stretched luxuriously, and then leapt onto the coffee table for a better angle.

"Alpine," Bucky warned, setting down his mug. "Don't even think about it."

She didn't think. She acted. Her paw shot out, claws extended, swiping at the nearest stocking. It swung wildly but didn't fall. Alpine tried again, harder this time, but the stupid thing just wouldn't come down. Frustrated, she let out a chirp of protest and glared at it.

"She's gonna take the whole mantel down if you let her," Steve said, crossing his arms.

"Alpine, get down," Bucky ordered, but she ignored him, swatting one last time for good measure before leaping gracefully back to the rug.

The fire popped loudly, and Alpine froze, her ears flattening. Suspicious. She crept closer, sniffing the air, her eyes narrowing at the flickering flames. It crackled again, and she backed up a step, tail puffing slightly.

"You're scared of the fire?" Steve asked, his tone tinged with amusement.

"She's not scared," Bucky said quickly, watching Alpine stalk the edge of the rug with exaggerated caution. "She's... being strategic."

Alpine shot him a glare. She wasn't scared. She was vigilant—a big difference.

Deciding the fire was sufficiently warned of her dominance, she returned to her spot on the couch and sprawled across the cushions. The humans were lucky to have her here, keeping them safe from suspicious crackles and rebellious stockings.

The fire might've been warm, but Alpine was still the heart of the holiday, and everyone in the room knew it.

Step 4: Snow

At some point, humans may open the door and expect you to appreciate "the snow." Do not fall for it.

• Snow is cold and wet and sticks to your paws like some form of winter torture. Avoid it at all costs.

• If they force you outside, make your disdain known with the most pitiful meow you can muster. Drag your feet dramatically and glare at them over your shoulder.

• When you come back inside, immediately seek out the warmest spot to recover from the betrayal. Preferably their lap, so they feel guilty.

The indignity of it all.

Alpine, supreme queen of her household, ruler of the warmest laps, and thief of unattended chili had endured many affronts in her life—but this? This was a betrayal of epic proportions.

They had dragged her out of her cozy suburban paradise and into the woods. She lifted a delicate paw and shook off the offending snow with a flick that was half disgust, half Shakespearean drama. Her little blue coat, while admittedly snug and warm, was nothing short of a betrayal. It wasn't fashion; it was imprisonment. She looked like a stuffed marshmallow, and the harness? Don't even get her started.

The leash tugged lightly, urging her to move forward. Alpine responded by planting all four paws firmly in the snow, her tail flicking sharply. The snow clung to her pristine white fur like a personal insult, the icy crystals melting into chilly droplets that seeped through her delicate coat. Why? she thought, her narrowed eyes shifting between the two lumbering buffoons who dared to call themselves her caretakers.

"Come on, baby girl, just a little farther," Bucky cooed, crouching down a few feet away with that infernal camera in his hands. The man had no shame; snapping pictures like her suffering was some kind of artistic masterpiece.

Alpine leveled him with a look that could have frozen the snow beneath his boots. Little farther? Farther from where I belong, you mean. My couch, my radiator, my perfectly curated kingdom? She huffed loudly, the frosty air curling from her mouth in a visible display of disdain.

Steve, the other giant, stood nearby, bundled in so many layers he looked like an overstuffed burrito. He grinned down at her, clearly finding her predicament amusing. "She's doing great," he said, his breath fogging in the cold.

Great? Alpine's tail lashed behind her. I'm being dragged through the frozen wilderness like a common peasant, and this is 'great'?

Her delicate paw lifted from the snow with an exaggerated flourish. She shook it violently, flinging icy flecks into the air before setting it back down with as much reluctance as she could muster. Every step forward was a performance of melodramatic resignation, but they didn't seem to care.

"Oh, she's so photogenic," Bucky muttered, clicking the phone camera again. "Look at that sass. She's got attitude."

Attitude? Alpine's ears flattened, her eyes narrowing. I'll show you attitude. Just wait until you leave your cereal bowl unattended tomorrow morning.

But it wasn't just the snow. No, the real insult was where they'd brought her. The cabin. The cabin. She glanced around at the surrounding woods with a mix of horror and disgust. Bare trees loomed overhead, their skeletal branches creaking in the icy wind. The ground was a patchwork of snow and uneven earth, with no sign of the soft carpet or gleaming hardwood she was accustomed to.

Alpine sniffed the air cautiously, catching the faint, earthy scent of pine mixed with something wild and unfamiliar. It was offensive. This place was a far cry from her suburban home, with its cozy nooks and warm sunbeams streaming through the windows. The cabin had its charms, sure, but it wasn't hers.

And now they wanted her to explore this frozen wasteland? She flicked her tail again, letting out a low, pitiful meow for emphasis.

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad," Bucky said, reaching out to scratch under her chin. She dodged his hand with a dramatic head tilt, making it clear she was not in the mood for his placations.

As if to make things worse, the leash tugged again, and Alpine begrudgingly took another step. This time, her paw sank deeper into the snow, and she froze in place, glaring down at it with wide, horrified eyes. She lifted her paw slowly, staring at the clumps of snow stuck between her toes like they were the cruelest form of punishment.

Bucky doubled over laughing. "Oh, my god, Stevie, look at her face. She's so mad."

"I don't blame her," Steve said, though he was grinning too. "We did kind of spring this on her."

Spring this on me? Alpine let out another theatrical sigh. You dragged me from my kingdom to this frostbitten hellscape without warning, and now you expect me to be grateful?

Bucky crouched again, holding up the phone and aiming it straight at her. "Come on, baby girl, just a few more shots. Give me that fierce model look."

I will knock that phone off into the toilet the next time your in the shower, Alpine thought as she stared directly into the lens with a withering glare.

When they finally—finally—seemed to get the message, Bucky scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest. "There we go," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "All done, baby girl. Let's get you inside."

Alpine hissed softly but allowed the indignity; it was too cold to put up much of a fight. At least his arms were warm, and the cabin's glow was growing closer with every step.

As they reached the porch, Bucky grinned over his shoulder at Steve. "I'm putting these pictures on the Christmas card."

Alpine buried her face in his coat with a low growl. Not if I get to them first.

Bucky carried Alpine into the cabin, the warm air hitting her like a soft, cozy blanket after the betrayal of the outdoors. She let out a long, theatrical yowl, her voice echoing off the walls, just to ensure her displeasure was properly noted. You dare bring me out there and expect me to act like it was fun?

"Alright, alright, you little diva," Bucky muttered, setting her down on the bench by the front door. His tone was annoyingly affectionate, as though her suffering was adorable. Adorable? She wasn't adorable—she was a wronged queen demanding justice.

Her tail lashed as Bucky started unfastening her puffy blue jacket. She let out another mournful cry, a detailed list of grievances disguised as a single, ear-piercing yowl. Dragged me into the snow, stuffed me into this hideous contraption, laughed at my misery—your crimes will not go unpunished!

"Don't yell at me! You needed the jacket," Bucky protested, working the tiny zipper free. "It's freezing out there. You wanna catch a cold?"

Cold? Alpine narrowed her eyes at him. If I were meant to be cold, I'd have been born as a snowshoe hare. But I am not. I am a cat. A creature of warmth, comfort, and dignity, all of which you've stolen from me today.

As soon as the jacket came off, Alpine leaped off the wooden bench with all the grace of someone who absolutely did not appreciate being handled. She stalked away from the front door and her abuser, her fluffy tail held high, flicking once for emphasis. Behind her, Bucky muttered something about "ungrateful furballs," but Alpine didn't dignify him with a response.

Her mission was clear: she needed to find the other human.

Alpine padded into the living room, each step purposeful, her tail swishing behind her like a banner of disdain. She paused at the threshold, her sharp green eyes sweeping over the cabin's decor. It was... underwhelming. Cozy, sure, but in a way that felt manufactured—like the humans were trying too hard to make it seem charming. She sniffed as if to physically draw in all the reasons she disliked it, her whiskers twitching with disapproval.

Her gaze locked on the Christmas tree, a nearly identical twin to the one at home. It stood smugly in the corner, draped in twinkling lights and shimmering baubles, its branches heavy with ornaments that swayed invitingly. It was practically begging her to reach out a paw. But she knew better. This was just another of their pointless rules.

What is the point of hanging shiny, dangling objects if I'm not allowed to touch them? Alpine thought, her ears flicking backward in annoyance. She swished her tail, remembering every time her paw had been batted away at home. A tree with strict "No, Alpine!" rules was no tree worth respecting.

As her inspection of the room continued, her opinion of the cabin remained resolute: unimpressive. The furniture was soft but mismatched, the kind of pieces you'd tolerate, not cherish. The rug beneath her paws was too coarse for her liking, and the cushions on the couch looked lumpy. Everything here screamed temporary, and Alpine did not care for temporary. She liked her home: the routines, the warm, well-worn spots on the couch, the radiator she'd claimed as her personal throne.

I'll never understand these humans, she thought, her ears twitching as the fire popped again. They hang shiny, tempting objects on a tree and then act like I'm the unreasonable one for wanting to touch them. And those stockings? Useless. They don't even have treats in them. What's the point?

This cabin was tolerable, she supposed, but only because she was here to make it so. It wasn't home, and it certainly wasn't up to her standards.

There he was—the other human. The spare one. Steve. The one who didn't put her in silly outfits or shove a phone in her face. Steve was sprawles out on the couch, holding a book, his big frame sprawled out like he had nowhere else to be.

Perfect.

Alpine hopped onto his lap and immediately began her campaign. She stared up at him with wide, soulful eyes, her most effective weapon, and let out a soft, plaintive meow. Feed me, loyal subject. Prove your worth.

Steve's face broke into a smile as he set the book aside. "Oh, so now I'm the favorite?" he asked, reaching down to pet her.

Alpine leaned into his hand, purring softly as his warm fingers trailed along her back. Finally, someone was acting appropriately.

From the kitchen, Bucky's voice carried over. "She's probably trying to con you into feeding her. Don't let her win, Stevie!"

Con? Alpine's ears twitched at the insult, but she didn't look away from Steve. Instead, she meowed again, a touch louder this time, making her demands crystal clear.

"Too late," Steve said, chuckling as he gently set her back on the floor. He stretched, then headed to the kitchen, Alpine trotting at his heels like the commanding presence she was. "Can't have our little queen going hungry, can we?"

She shot Bucky a smug look as Steve opened the sacred cupboard and retrieved the most precious of treasures—a can of wet food. Her tail flicked in satisfaction as he popped the lid and scooped the fragrant feast into her bowl. See? This one knows what he's doing.

As Steve scooped the food into her bowl, Alpine purred loudly, her tail flicking in satisfaction. Finally, some justice in this household. She devoured the meal with gusto, savoring every bite. It wasn't that long ago that she'd been scraping by, scrounging behind gas stations and dodging cold, sleepless nights. Life here wasn't so bad—not with food like this.

While Steve washed the spoon, Alpine dined like royalty, savoring every bite. Life hadn't always been this good. Not so long ago, she'd been a scrappy dumpster kitten, scrounging for scraps behind gas stations and braving cold, lonely nights. She didn't like to think about those days, but they made moments like this all the sweeter. Her life wasn't all that bad—not with food like this.

When her bowl was empty and her stomach full, Alpine padded back into the living room, her paws light, and her mood improved. The fire crackled invitingly, and she jumped onto the couch, curling into a perfect ball right in front of the warmth.

The two humans joined her shortly after, Bucky flopping onto the couch next to Steve, the blonde's arm slung over the brunette shoulders. They both looked at her, their expressions soft, and Alpine allowed herself to feel a little smug. She had them wrapped around her paw, just as it should be.

"What do you think she's thinking about?" Bucky asked, leaning into Steve.

Steve laughed, rubbing his hand over Bucky's shoulder. "World domination, probably. Or figuring out how to knock over the Christmas tree."

Perhaps both, Alpine thought, cracking one eye open to glance at them. She offered a slow blink, a silent acknowledgment of their loyalty. They were idiots, but they were her idiots.

With a contented sigh, she tucked her nose under her paw and drifted off to sleep. Life with these two wasn't perfect, but it was warm, full of food, and—when they weren't stuffing her into coats or dragging her into the snow—pretty good.

Step 5: Christmas Cards

Humans love to send pictures of themselves during the holidays. Unfortunately, they will try to include you in these.

• If they attempt to pose you next to the tree or in front of the fire, resist. Go limp, twist around, or give them the back of your head for every shot.

• If they succeed in taking a photo, ensure you look unimpressed. This will make the card more authentic.

• When the cards arrive, sit on them. Knock them off the table. This will remind the humans who the real star of the holidays is—you.

The humans had outdone themselves with their ridiculous holiday traditions. Alpine watched from her perch on the back of the couch as Bucky and Steve shuffled around the living room, setting up some sort of photo shoot. The tree twinkled, the fire crackled, and a neatly folded blanket had been draped over the armchair like they were expecting royalty.

"Alpine!" Bucky called, holding a Santa hat in one hand and a determined look on his face. "Come here."

She narrowed her eyes. Absolutely not.

Bucky sighed and tried a new tactic, kneeling and holding out his hand. "Come on, girl. Just one picture, and we're done."

Alpine considered her options. She could stay here and make them chase her, but where was the fun in that? Slowly, she stretched and leapt down, sauntering toward him with exaggerated disinterest. Let them think she was cooperating.

The moment Bucky tried to pick her up, she went completely limp, her full weight dropping into his arms like she'd forgotten how bones worked.

"Oh, come on," he grumbled, shifting her awkwardly. "Steve, help me out."

Steve approached, camera in hand, and Alpine twisted suddenly, wriggling free and darting under the coffee table. From her vantage point, she watched as the humans sighed in unison, already looking defeated.

"I told you we should've just gotten a dog," Steve muttered.

Bucky crouched down to look at her. "Alpine, we're just trying to make a nice card. Can you work with us here?"

She blinked at him slowly, then turned her head, giving him a perfect view of the back of her ears.

"Fine. You win," Bucky muttered, standing. But Alpine wasn't done. As they reset the scene, she emerged from her hiding spot, climbing onto the chair they'd so lovingly prepared.

"Hey, she's sitting still!" Steve said, raising the camera.

Alpine waited until the perfect moment—just as the camera clicked—then yawned dramatically, her ears flattening and her expression one of sheer boredom.

"Really?" Bucky said, glaring at the screen.

"That's actually pretty funny," Steve chuckled, showing him the shot.

By the time the humans gave up and printed their cards, Alpine had moved on to her next target: the cards themselves. They sat in a neat stack on the coffee table, practically begging to be knocked over. She hopped onto the table, settled directly on top of the stack, and began grooming herself like she hadn't a care in the world.

"Alpine, those aren't for you!" Steve said, reaching for the cards.

She swatted his hand away and stretched out further, crumpling the envelopes beneath her.

"She's just reminding us who the star of this holiday is," Bucky said dryly, crossing his arms.

Alpine purred, satisfied. She didn't need to be in the humans' silly pictures. Everyone already knew the truth: this holiday—and the humans' sanity—revolved around her.

Step 6: Holiday Food

Humans feast during the holidays, but they will selfishly guard most of the food. This is unacceptable.

• Station yourself near the kitchen or dining table. Look adorable but hungry.

• If subtlety doesn't work, leap onto the counter and help yourself. Turkey, ham, and anything involving gravy are top-tier.

• Avoid candy canes. They smell strange and are disappointingly inedible.

The smells wafting from the kitchen were overwhelming—roasting meat, buttery rolls, and the tantalizing richness of gravy. Alpine crouched just outside the doorway, her nose twitching and tail flicking as she watched Bucky shuffle between the oven and the counter. He had been at it for hours, muttering under his breath about timers and seasoning. To Alpine, it was obvious: all this effort was clearly for her.

The humans were predictable. They always shared—eventually. But the trick was timing. Alpine stationed herself strategically near the dining table, her eyes wide and unblinking as she stared at Steve, who was slicing bread with precision. Occasionally, she let out a soft, pitiful meow for effect.

"She's giving me the look," Steve muttered to Bucky. "Like I haven't fed her in weeks."

"She's playing you," Bucky shot back without even looking up from his mashed potatoes. "Don't fall for it."

Fine. If pity wasn't working, it was time to escalate.

As Bucky turned to check on the ham, Alpine seized her chance. She leapt onto the counter with the agility of a gymnast, landing silently next to the cooling dish of turkey. The smell was heavenly, and before anyone could react, she snagged a piece with her paw and ducked under the table.

"Alpine!" Bucky's shout was immediate.

From her hiding spot, she could hear the slap of a dish towel against the counter. She took a victorious bite of the turkey, savoring the juicy perfection.

"Seriously?" Steve said, trying not to laugh. "She's like a ninja."

"She's like a menace," Bucky growled, bending down to glare at her. "Give it back!"

Alpine licked her paw, feigning innocence, the half-eaten piece of turkey tucked safely under her. She blinked slowly at Bucky, the picture of feline arrogance.

"Oh, come on," Bucky groaned, standing up and muttering to himself.

Alpine watched as he turned back to the counter, now more vigilant, but she wasn't done yet. She leapt back up a few minutes later when his guard was down, this time going for the gravy boat.

"Alpine, no!"

The commotion sent the humans scrambling, but Alpine was too quick, darting away with a gravy-dipped paw. The humans were shouting, but all Alpine heard was a triumph.

Candy canes, however, were another story. One sat abandoned on the counter, its shiny wrapper catching the light. Curious, Alpine sniffed it, only to recoil at the strange, minty scent. With a flick of her paw, she sent it flying to the floor where it could bother someone else. Disgusting.

By the time dinner was served, Alpine had claimed a seat under the table, strategically positioned to catch any falling crumbs. She watched smugly as Bucky set down the dishes, glaring at her like she was the villain of the holiday.

Little did he know, Alpine thought, licking her gravy-soaked paw, she was the hero this feast deserved.

Step 7: The Gift Exchange

Humans will gather around the tree and exchange boxes of things they don't need. Occasionally, they will give you gifts too.

• Ignore the gifts they give you. It's likely a toy you'll never touch or some boring treats.

• Instead, focus on the empty boxes and discarded wrapping paper. These are the real treasures.

• Jump into every box. Claim it. It's your throne now.

The living room looked like a holiday battlefield—a sea of torn wrapping paper, empty boxes, and shiny ribbons strewn across the floor. Alpine was in her element. Sitting primly in the center of the chaos, she watched her humans, Bucky and Steve, exchanging gifts under the tree. They were making far too much fuss over things that clearly didn't matter. The true treasures were right in front of her: crinkly paper, dangling ribbons, and boxes—oh, the glorious boxes.

"Look, Alpine," Steve said, holding out a small package wrapped in green paper. "This one's for you."

Alpine glanced at the box, then at Steve, her green eyes narrowing slightly. Did he honestly think she'd care about what was inside? She was far too busy surveying the mess to waste energy humoring him. With the dignity of a queen dismissing a court jester, she turned her attention to a crumpled ball of wrapping paper lying just out of reach.

She crouched low, tail flicking, and pounced, batting the paper across the floor. It skittered under the couch, but she didn't mind—there were plenty more.

"Guess she's not interested," Steve chuckled, setting the package aside.

"Typical," Bucky muttered, tearing into a box of his own. "We could've saved twenty bucks if we just gave her the garbage."

Alpine ignored their commentary. She had more important tasks at hand. A stray bow caught her eye, its shiny surface catching the light. She stalked it like prey, her claws unsheathing as she pounced. The bow slid across the floor, but she was relentless, chasing it under the coffee table and batting it back out into the open. Finally, she trapped it under her paw and gave it a triumphant bite before losing interest. There were still other treasures to claim.

And then she saw it: an empty box sitting near Bucky's feet. The perfect size for sitting, lounging, or both. She padded over, sniffing it with the cautious curiosity of a professional investigator. Satisfied, she hopped inside, turning in circles until she'd found just the right position.

"She gets a catnip toy and ignores it for a box," Bucky said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Priorities," Steve replied with a grin, watching Alpine settle into her new throne.

Alpine stretched luxuriously, her tail dangling lazily over the edge of the box. For a moment, she closed her eyes, basking in the triumph of her find. But peace never lasted long in her world. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a ribbon dangling from the arm of the couch. It swayed gently, taunting her.

Without hesitation, Alpine leapt from the box and tackled the ribbon mid-air, rolling onto her back as she shredded it with wild abandon. The humans' voices grew louder, but their words were irrelevant. She had won.

"Alpine, come on," Bucky groaned, crouching to pick up the pieces of ribbon. "That's the third one you've destroyed!"

Unbothered by his protests, Alpine sauntered back to her box and hopped in, resuming her royal position. She gave Bucky a slow blink—the feline equivalent of a mic drop.

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "I think she's having the best Christmas out of all of us."

Bucky sighed, glancing at the pile of toys and treats they'd bought her, now abandoned in favor of the box and wrapping paper. "Next year, we're just getting her an empty box and some paper. Save ourselves the trouble."

Alpine flicked her tail, smug satisfaction radiating from her small frame. Finally, they were starting to understand who the real star of Christmas was.

Step 8: Holiday Cheer

Humans will sing, laugh, and generally act even more absurd than usual. They'll also cuddle more, which is... tolerable.

• Indulge them when they try to include you in their "holiday spirit." Let them pet you for exactly as long as you feel like it.

• If they dress you in a Santa hat or a ridiculous sweater, go limp. Make them regret their choices.

• Occasionally grace them with a slow blink. This will make them feel like they've earned your approval, which keeps them manageable.

The living room buzzed with holiday cheer, the kind humans seemed to find contagious this time of year. Laughter and chatter filled the space as Bucky and Steve lounged on the couch, mugs of steaming cocoa in hand, trading stories and enjoying the cozy warmth of the fire. Alpine, perched on the arm of the couch, observed the scene with her usual mix of disdain and reluctant fondness. Humans were absurd creatures, but at least they served a purpose—sometimes.

Steve reached over, his hand hovering near her ears. "You feeling the holiday cheer, Alpine?" he asked, his voice soft and coaxing, like she was some simple-minded puppy who could be swayed by tone alone.

She allowed the intrusion, tilting her head slightly as his fingers scratched behind her ears. For a moment—just a moment—she leaned into the touch, her eyes half-closing in approval. But then, inevitably, he pushed his luck and scratched the wrong spot. Her tail flicked sharply in warning, and she sprang down from the arm of the couch with an air of offended dignity, leaving Steve mid-scratch and chuckling to himself.

"Guess that's a no," he said with a grin, watching as Alpine sauntered toward Bucky's chair.

Bucky snorted, one hand resting on the armrest as Alpine approached. "Yeah, that's her version of holiday cheer—gracing us with her presence until we overstep."

Despite his words, his hand reached out to stroke her head. Alpine tolerated it for a beat or two, closing her eyes briefly before pulling back. She had better things to do than indulge human attention all evening. Or so she thought.

That's when she saw it—the Santa hat.

Bucky held it up with a mischievous grin, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Come on, Alpine. Just for a second. You'll look cute."

Cute? Alpine didn't need some ridiculous human prop to be cute. Her ears flattened immediately as she glared at him, her tail twitching in annoyance. She considered bolting, but before she could make her escape, the hat was on her head.

Her response was immediate and dramatic. She went limp, collapsing onto the arm of the chair like the weight of the world—or at least the hat—was too much to bear.

Steve burst out laughing. "Oh my god, she's playing dead! Look at her!"

Bucky groaned, trying to adjust the hat as Alpine flopped over onto her side, her legs splayed in the most exaggerated display of misery she could muster. If he wanted her to wear this thing, he was going to suffer for it.

"She's fine," Bucky said, though even he was laughing as he wrestled with her limp form. "You're such a little diva."

Alpine didn't budge, her green eyes narrowing into a judgmental glare that could have peeled paint off the walls. After a few more failed attempts to make the hat look presentable, Bucky finally sighed and removed it, tossing it onto the couch with a defeated shake of his head.

As soon as the offending accessory was gone, Alpine sprang to her feet with an indignant shake; her fur fluffed as if to rid herself of the lingering humiliation.

"See?" Steve teased. "You ruined her mood."

"Yeah, well, she ruined my hat," Bucky muttered, gesturing to the crumpled mess now sitting on the couch.

Ignoring them both, Alpine climbed back onto the armrest she'd claimed earlier, settling down with her tail neatly curled around her paws. She gave Bucky a slow, deliberate blink—a signal of forgiveness, but just barely.

Steve grinned. "That was a mercy blink. She's letting you off easy."

Bucky groaned, slouching back in his chair. "I don't know why I even try with her."

Satisfied, Alpine tucked her paws beneath her chest, her eyes closing as the warmth of the fire and the sound of human chatter filled the room. Holiday cheer, she decided, was tolerable—so long as it remained on her terms. Naturally, she was winning.

Conclusion

The holidays can be chaotic, loud, and full of baffling traditions. But remember: you are the true center of the household, no matter what these humans celebrate. Use their festivities to your advantage. Play with their decorations, dominate their wrapping sessions, and claim their cozy spots.

And most importantly, when they look at you with those ridiculous grins and call you their "holiday miracle," accept it. After all, you are the greatest gift they could ever hope for.

Happy holidays, peasants.

-Alpine 🐾

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whipitgod · 8 months ago

Text

Under Different Circumstances.

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

oneshot (?) - wc: 2.2k

summary: Bucky is a live figure model and Steve feels kind of like he might pass out. AU

warnings: not canon compliant, light swearing, allusions to sex, and crack-ish as usual

a/n: you guys voted for artist steve/figure model bucky in the poll so here it is!! i hope this doesn't disappoint cause i struggled a bit with how to end this one. lmk if you want me to write a pt.2 to this with their date! If you like this remember to leave a like/reblog! maybe even follow me :D! Happy reading!!

!!!!REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

The only phrase his mind can seem to supply him is a mortified, oh sweet merciful Jesus. The most attractive man he’s ever seen is standing naked in front of him posed like the Hercules of Farnese statue, and Steve feels like he’s going to pass out. Steve had barely looked up from where he was setting up his art materials when the man had walked in, only looking at him once the instructor had begun introducing him.

The instructor had clapped her hands together, gaining the attention of everyone in the room, “This is James,” she’d motioned to the man standing next to her, “He’s gonna be our live model today.”

The man had smiled at this, waving at all the people sitting behind easels, “Please call me Bucky, you’re all about to see me naked; I think we can move past the formalities.”

Steve thinks he’d heard a few people laugh at the comment but honestly, he's not really sure, way too focused on the man, Bucky, starting to disrobe at the instructors prompting. The blood had immediately rushed from Steve's head down to a lower part of his body making him shift awkwardly, not taking his eyes off where the man was being instructed on how to pose.

That was over 5 minutes ago, and Steve has yet to do more than draw a rough outline of the pose; Steve knows the man is aware of his struggle too, the asshole had winked at him when he’d caught the blonde staring, mouth slightly agape. Steve had almost flinched at the wink, his gaze immediately shifting to the paper in front of him as his face heated. He can feel how red his face and ears are and he knows Bucky can see it; Steve’s never been the most devout religious person but, in that moment, he sends up a silent plea to whatever higher power there might be to put him out of his misery.

With more strength and determination than he honestly thought he was capable of, Steve focuses on the drawing in front of him, beginning to sketch the hard planes of the man's muscles. Good god what is this guy's workout routine? Steve’s not naive, he knows he’s an attractive guy. He’s put a lot of effort into his body and appearance in general and he knows his build is impressive, but sweet Jesus so is Bucky’s.

Is it weird if I ask him how he’s getting that much muscle definition before I try to sleep with him? The thought causes a quiet chuckle to leave him before he can stop it, the sound cutting through the silence of the room causing a few heads to turn towards him much to Steve's horror. He can feel his face getting hot and resolutely stares at the sketch in front of him; He can feel Bucky staring at him and when Steve chances a glance up from his paper he immediately meets the man’s curious gaze and quickly looks back down.

He’s got to admit, the dark-haired man is a little intimidating, not even just appearance wise. Bucky had been staring at him just about as much as he’d stared at Bucky, with his brows furrowed like he’s trying to figure Steve out. Steve would almost describe the look Bucky was giving him as being resemblant of the kind of look you give someone when they owe you money.

Steve isn’t ashamed to admit that the look is doing nothing to deter his growing attraction to the man in front of him, he’d even go as far to admit that it's making him more attractive. Steve really doesn’t want to think about what being attracted to a man that looks kind of like he wants to punch you means for him from a psychological standpoint; Whatever it means Steve is sure of one thing, and it's that the man has a serious resting bitch face, and it's really doing it for him.

Steve miraculously manages to finish the sketch, only getting sidetracked a few more times as he works. He's broken out of his focus by the sound of the instructor announcing the end of the class and he chooses not to look up when he hears the instructor tell Bucky he can go get dressed, thanking the man for coming. He packs his materials with a practiced efficiency, only stopping when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching his station

Looking up from his bag he’s met with the sight of Bucky smiling down at him, he sucks in a sharp breath as he meets the man's eyes. How is he hotter up close? Steve stares blankly at the man for a moment before standing from where he was crouched putting his stuff away, he makes note of the fact that they are almost the same height; Bucky was probably about an inch or so shorter than him but just as broad.

The man holds out his hand for Steve to shake and he grabs it hoping that his hands aren’t sweating enough for Bucky to notice, “Hi, you must be Steve?” at Steve’s ensuing confusion he continues on, “I’m a friend of Sam’s”

Steve’s brows furrow deeper at this, “You know Sam?”

“Yeah, he’s actually the one who told me I should do this. He’s always trying to get me to step out of my comfort zone.”

Yeah, out of his comfort zone and into Steve’s apparently. Steve feels his eye twitch slightly; he’s going to kill Sam, “Oh yeah? Given that you recognized me, I assume Sam told you about me? All good things I hope.”

Bucky gives him another smile at this that Steve can't help but return, the man's smile doing weird things to the blonde's stomach, “All good things. He honestly didn’t say much about you, just that he had a friend named Steve that took the class.”

Steve lets a breath he wasn't aware he was holding at Bucky’s response, but his relief is only short lived because apparently the man wasn't done, “He also told me that you would be the blonde one that was and i quote, ‘built like a brick shithouse’,” Bucky stops for a moment, eyes trailing up and down Steve's body before landing back on his face, a teasing smile forming on his face, “and I gotta say, he wasn’t lying.”

The man is confident, almost bordering on cocky, but Steve reasons that the confidence is justified. Most of the time Steve would say that an attitude like the one Bucky has meant that a man was overcompensating but Steve had just stared at Bucky in all his nude glory for close to an hour and he can confirm that there is no overcompensating happening here. Yeah, he looked, he’s not ashamed to admit it; it was kind of hard not to when he had to draw it.

Steve's mouth feels dry as he chokes out a thank you and Steve’s floundering only serves to embolden Bucky, the man’s teasing grin stretching even further and a soft sound akin to a laugh leaving him. Steve manages to regain his footing a bit, he squares his shoulders and decides that two can play this game. He wants to flirt? I’ll show him flirting, I'm gonna flirt so hard it knocks him on his ass, “I wish Sam had told me about you, I would’ve loved to see you naked for the first time under different circumstances.”

The words shock Steve a little bit as they leave him, dear god reel it in Steve. He’ll be the first to admit that he might’ve taken it a bit far, he just met the guy and he’s probably actively scaring him off. Much to Steve's delight and surprise Bucky lets out a sharp bark of laughter at the words, shaking his head slightly, a wide smile taking over his features once more.

The dark-haired man digs in his pocket, pulling out his phone and unlocking it before handing it to Steve, “I would love to explore what these ‘different circumstances’ entail,” Steve begins typing his number into the blank contact Bucky had pulled up, “But right now I have to run, I’m meeting my sister for lunch.”

Steve hands the man his phone back and he sees Bucky set the contact's name to ‘brick shithouse’ and he has to bite back the laugh that threatens to escape him at this, “Well how about you text me later and we can set something up?”

“Oh definitely,” Bucky’s eyes trail up and down Steve's body for what feels like the hundredth time before continuing, “I’d be crazy not to.”

Steve lets out a laugh that’s honestly more of a giggle that makes Bucky’s smile even wider; Steve’s never been this humiliated and turned on at the same time, it's a little bit startling.

“It was nice to meet you, Steve.” The man starts walking away before Steve can even begin to form a response, and he stands motionless watching Bucky’s retreating form.

As soon as the man is out of the room Steve is fumbling for his phone, pulling it out and immediately clicking on his best friend’s contact. The phone only rings a few times before Sam picks up, “Hey what's up ma-”

“I want you dead.” Steve cuts off the other man's greeting in a sharp tone as he picks up his bag of art supplies.

“Good afternoon to you too, I assume you met Bucky.” Steve can hear the smirk in Sam’s voice, and it makes him falter for a second.

He gathers himself after a second of silence, “Oh my god! You planned this!”

“You can’t prove that.”

“Cut the shit Sam.”

A quiet chuckle echoes through the phone, “and if I did? You kept complaining about being single and I got sick of hearing it all the time.”

“It's not right to spring this kind of thing on me! I need at least forty-eight hours to emotionally prepare for a situation like that.”

“I’m sure it was fine, you are a frustratingly attractive dude, it's kind of hard for you to scare someone off.”

Steve breathes a laugh at this, “Aw Sam, do you have something you want to confess to me?”

“Oh yeah man, I'm sorry you had to find out about my undying love for you this way.” The words come through the phone in a sarcastic deadpan that has Steve letting out a laugh that's more of a cackle than anything, “So how did it go?”

“It went good, I stared at his dick for an hour and then all but asked him to bend over.”

Steve hears Sam choke at this, and the sound of a cup being set down aggressively followed by coughing as Sam recovers from the statement. Sam takes a second to regain his composure while Steve laughs at him, “Jesus Christ man.”

I’m kidding,” a brief pause, “kind of. I did stare at his dick, and I did say that I wanted to see him naked under different circumstances.”

Sam is quiet for a moment before responding with a pained sounding, “I’m happy for you.”

Steve laughs harder at this, catching his breath slightly he pushes on, “I think we’re gonna meet up later,” he stops for a second, what can only be described as a shit-eating grin forms on his face, “Hey, do you know if Bucky’s a top or a bottom? I don’t really care either way, I just want to know what I should prepare for. He kind of gave of top vibes but I could picture him bending o-”

“I’m hanging up now.”

Steve hears the beeping that comes when you end a call and pulls his phone away from his face, he laughs so hard his sides start to hurt, a few tears escape, and he wipes at them. As grateful as Steve is that Sam orchestrated him meeting Bucky, He’s still a little bit bitter over the lack of warning and he intends on making Sam suffer a bit. He sends a text to Sam that reads ‘Jockstrap or no jockstrap?” Sam only sends a thumbs down emoji in response and Steve fights the urge to break down into another laughing fit.

His phone beeps with a text from an unknown number, the text reads, ‘Hey it’s the guy who’s junk you stared at for an hour, we kind of went about this backwards. Dinner tonight? I can pick you up at 7.” the phrasing of the first part making Steve’s shoulders shake with silent laughter; How romantic.

Steve stares at the text for a minute before responding, ‘7 is perfect, can’t wait!’ The message was initially typed with at least six exclamation points before Steve had thought better of it, he sent another text with his address before closing his phone and letting out a squeal that if asked about he would deny. His head snaps up at the sound of someone clearing their throat, and Steve is mortified to find the instructor standing a few feet away from him with curious eyes.

Steve huffs a nervous breath, “Oh hey, didn’t see you there.”

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, I'm great.”

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