"Sam. I am saying this as your friend but that sweater is hideous. Please, for the love of all that is holy, burn the damn thing."
Sam glared at Bucky while holding his eggnog tight to his chest (Natasha had attempted to pilfer it ten minutes ago, but Sam wasn’t going to let it go without a fight).
"Hey, douche. My aunt knitted me this sweater. It’s made out of love and the softest sheeps wool you could imagine. Don’t hate on the sweater just because you’re freezing, you bitter, bitter man."
Bucky couldn’t hide the fact that he was shivering, even clenching his jaw couldn’t still the chattering of teeth.
"Why did Steve drag us out here anyway? It’s cold as shit." He huddled closer to Sam in an unsubtle attempt at "conserving body heat".
"The lighting of the tree is Steve’s favorite part of Christmas. You know that and I know that, even Tony knows that and he’s not exactly the most observant guy around."
Sam finally took pity on Bucky, and wrapped him up into tight hug.
"It’s only for a few more minutes, and tomorrow I’m buying you a proper jacket. What were you thinking coming out here in that? Actually, what is that? A windbreaker from the eighties? We’re burning that tomorrow."