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They are children. One of them fifteen; the other on the cusp of turning sixteen. They proudly declare themselves teenagers, both of them willing to forget that for them, this is nearly adulthood, really. And so they do teenage things, like share a coke float down in Bill and Elenor’s diner. They split their money equally, Steve paying with the money from his newspaper rounds, Bucky with the cash he gets from his Saturday mornings down in the grocers. It becomes their Sunday night ritual, much like every other teenager on the block.
And it’s because of that, it’s because the kids have nowhere else to go on a Sunday night, that Steve and Bucky overhear Jessica Roberts and her group’s conversation. The diner isn’t big, quite small really by Brooklyn standards but it’s cheap and cheerful and Bill and Ellie always try and do a fair deal for the kids. Because of this, though, the kids have to make do with whatever seats they can find and usually they’re all cramped up on top of each other. Not that they mind- they’re young and they’re just happy to have a place they can call their own. But it leaves little room for privacy and that’s how Steve and Bucky hear Jessica Roberts whine;
“Please, I’d rather die a lonely, old spinster like my great-aunt Louise than marry Steve Rogers.”
The group fall about the place giggling and Bucky stops slurping his drink to cast a slow glance in Steve’s direction. Steve’s cheeks are pink but he continues drinking as though nothing has happened. Bucky swallows the mouthful melting in his mouth and opens his mouth to speak when Jessica continues.
“Like, my mom feels sorry for him. Remember that time he had an asthma attack during the school show? My mom made me pray for him that night, said it was our ‘Christian duty’, or something like that. How does Barnes do it? It’s like having a baby to care for or something.”
This time Steve does react; he’s up and out of his seat in the blink of an eye. Jessica’s group are cackling loudly and Bucky hops down from his own stool and races out the door after him, not even stopping to spit in Jessica’s shake, even though he really wants to. He tears down the street after his surprisingly agile friend, calling his name out as he goes.
“Steve! Steve? Steve!”
It is only once they have turned the corner and are out of the sight of their peers that Steve comes to a halt; his slight shoulders shaking as he turns around and glares at Bucky.
“Whaddyou want, Buck? I’m goin’ home.” He declares breathlessly.
Bucky frowns as he catches up with his friend and tilts his head to the side uncertainly.
“Why you goin’ home? ‘Cause of what Jessica and her idiot friends said? They got no idea, Stevie. They’d be lucky to catch a guy like you.”
The sigh that slips out between Steve’s chapped lips is much too broken for a boy his age. He quirks one brow and gives his friend a disbelieving look.
“You know what? They wouldn’t. They’d be damned if they married a guy like me. I’ll never be able to keep down a proper job and don’t even think about lying to me, Buck, I’ve heard your ma say it to mine time and time again.”
Bucky shoves his hands deep in his pockets and gives Steve an apologetic look.
“Ma just means-”
“Your ma is just tellin’ the truth; sayin’ what everyone else is too scared to.” Steve cuts across him hastily. “And she’s right.”
Bucky steps closer to the smaller boy, his blue eyes wide and imploring.
“She just means you ain’t ever gonna get work down by the docks, Stevie. Hard labour ain’t for you, we all know that. You’re gonna be somethin’ fancy, like an artist or one of them pianists in those bars in Chicago.” He says with an excited smile.
Steve snorts at this and gives his friend a disbelieving look.
“I don’t even play the piano, Buck.”
“You could though.” Bucky insists, picking up one of Steve’s hands and placing it between his. “With hands like these? You could be anything.”
Bucky’s own palms are calloused and hard but Steve’s are soft and gentle to touch. He glances down at their hands and feels a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The street around them is deserted and in the distance they can just make out the chatter of the rest of the kids on the block. Bucky runs his thumb across the back of Steve’s hand and feels his mouth run dry when the smaller boy shivers.
“I’d marry you.” Bucky finally breathes, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he looks at his friend. “In a heartbeat. I’d put on my lace gown, Stevie and I’d race you to the church.”
Steve manages to keep a straight face for all of two seconds before bursting into a fit of laughter. He pulls his hand out of Bucky’s and shakes his head bemusedly as he turns away, a bright smile lighting up his entire face.
“Stop foolin’ around.” He sighs as he starts to walk again. “Come back to mine and I’ll see if I can convince Ma to make us some hot cocao.”
“I mean it.” Bucky insists, a devilish smirk twisting his handsome face. “Even though, out of the two of us, somethin’ tells me you’d look a lot more pretty in white.”
Steve laughs again and ducks his head, desperately trying to hide the flush spreading across his cheeks.
.
Steve spends the next few months in the library trying to find a religion that will allow him to marry his best friend.
(There are none.)
.
“Whoah, Buck, did you plan on drinkin’ Brooklyn dry?” Steve teases as he watches Bucky stumble into their apartment.
His uniform is nowhere near as neat as it was and his hat is missing. Steve can’t help but feel a little charmed by his less than perfect clothes and he snorts when Bucky gives him a drunken salute before throwing himself down on the thin, battered couch beside him. Bucky rests his head on the back of the sofa, his eyes closed and his mouth open, his breathing deep and steady.
“Those girls couldn’t dance at all, Stevie.” He slurs mournfully. “Had to come home before I laughed in their faces.”
Steve is secretly pleased by this but he remains silent, simply watching the way his friend runs his tongue along his dry lips mesmerizingly. It’s cold in their apartment and Steve is draped in one of his mother’s old blankets. It smells stale and of damp but he still pulls it tighter around himself when Bucky turns his head to the side and watches him with hooded eyes.
“You feel like dancin’ with me before I leave?” He breathes, a small smirk spreading its way across his lips.
Steve shakes his head ruefully and leaves out a short huff of laughter.
“No way, Buck. I need to keep all ten toes now that you’re shipping out. Gonna have to start pulling my weight.” He teases.
Bucky pulls a face and wriggles closer, his body floppy and uncoordinated as he curls himself around Steve’s legs.
“You’re already pulling more than your fair-share and I told you that I’ve organized that half my pay comes back to you.”
Steve blushes a little and shakes his head.
“That money should be goin’ to your ma, Buck.” He says quietly.
“My ma is fine. She understands.”
Steve risks looking at his friend and feels a shiver run through him when he locks eyes with Bucky. Bucky’s eyes are rounder now, round and pleading and Steve doesn’t know what to do except look away. He looks back at the book on his lap and tries to ignore the strange fluttering feeling in his stomach that happens when Bucky’s large, strong hand runs along the length of his thigh. He squeezes gently and Steve is forced to look back up, his heart lodged somewhere between his throat chest and his mouth.
“You should marry me, Steve.” Bucky whispers softly. “I’d take real good care of you.”
It takes Steve a slow, agonizing minute to remind himself that Bucky is drunk and even then, he finds that his mouth has run dry and has difficulties swallowing.
“You already take care of me.” He finally manages to say.
One of Bucky’s hands slip underneath the worn fabric of Steve’s off-white flannel shirt and Steve thinks he can feel his fingerprints being burned against his skin. He inhales shakily and gives Bucky a questioning look as the taller man pushes himself closer to Steve.
“Bucky…”
Steve falls silent when those plump lips finally touch his. It’s feather-light and sweet but Steve still finds himself shaking when Bucky pulls away, his eyes wide and staring as he looks at his friend. Bucky has an apologetic look on his face, his brows furrowed together anxiously.
“I just…I couldn’t leave without knowing.” He sighs.
Steve winds his arms around his neck and pulls him close again, their foreheads resting against one another. Bucky’s eyes have drifted closed and his breath his hot and gentle against Steve’s cheek. There are words, begging, pleading words threatening to spill out of Steve’s mouth and God, he wants to ask Bucky to stay more than ever now.
Now that he knows.
They like that, wrapped in each other’s arms on their thin, moth-eaten sofa until first light breaks across the midnight sky and Bucky manages to drag himself to his feet. They don’t look at each other and when Steve pulls his blanket over his head he knows Bucky understands.
He can’t watch him leave.
.
When Erskine gives him the chance to follow Bucky; he jumps at it.
(Til the end of the line, pal.)
.
It’s not Bucky sitting opposite him; it’s a shell, a man who wears his best friends face. His eyes are wide and distant, his face pinched and pale. Agent Carter is crouched by his feet, a concerned look on her face as she tries to engage him but Bucky is staring at Steve like he has seen some kind of ghost.
“Buck?” Steve urges. “Agent Carter wants you to remove your shirt.”
The medic standing beside Peggy is taking fast, furious notes on his sheet of paper, a light frown darkening his usually smooth face. Bucky moves stiffly, mechanically even. The lacerations covering his back are fresh and the bruising around his hips cannot be more than a day or two old. Steve can’t keep the look of horror from his face and when Peggy reaches forward to touch a cut; Bucky flattens himself against the wall, his face bone white and mouth working soundlessly. She steps away cautiously and makes her way back to Steve, letting the medics move closer and try and treat his wounds. Her face is grave and when she meets Steve’s eye, he can tell that she is horrified.
“I think you can see quite clearly Captain Rogers, that whatever happened out there has had some-”
“Steve, Steve, you’re Steve.” Bucky suddenly yelps, shoving at the medics weakly, the ghost of a smile colouring his otherwise blank face.
Steve pushes past Peggy and crosses the room in four steps, his heart surging up towards his mouth as Bucky finally recognises him.
“Yeah, yeah, Buck. It’s me.” He gasps, falling to his knees before him.
Bucky laughs wetly and runs one hand through his hair.
“I thought you were smaller.” He jokes and there are tears in his eyes, tears that tell Steve straight away that everything is not okay.
There are things he needs to say, promises he needs to make but he can’t in the overcrowded medic tent and so he simply grasps Bucky’s hand in his and gives him the warmest smile he can muster.
“I thought you were dead.” He says softly and he can feel his own tears, blocking his airway and stinging his eyes and so he steps back until they give Bucky the all clear and Steve can lead him to his bed.
And it is there, underneath the thick comfort of the duvet that Steve can hold the now smaller man against his chest and hold him through the sobs that wrack is suddenly fragile body. Bucky has never been vulnerable, never fragile or breakable. It makes Steve’s chest ache in a way that is completely unfamiliar to him. He tries to find the words, tries to tell Bucky that he’s going to protect him but every time he opens his mouth, he feels as if he cannot breathe and so instead he noses his way through Bucky’s stale, matted hair and tells himself that everything is going to be okay.
“Marry me.” Bucky whispers against the damp skin of Steve’s chest.
He mouths the words against warm skin and Steve presses gentle kisses to his forehead, squeezing Bucky against him as tightly as he can.
They don’t say anything else; just tattoo their promises to each other’s skin as they hold each other through the night.
.
And if Bucky holds on a little too tightly, Steve doesn’t comment.
(Because Steve has always clung to him like he was his life vest.)
.
“It’s a suicide mission.” Dum Dum sighs. “We’re basically throwing ourselves into the jaws of death for a man who wears tights.”
Steve rolls his eyes as Bucky snorts beside him.
“I don’t wear tights.” He argues whilst the others crack up.
“Do not mind him, mon ami, he only envious; he could never pull off that suit like you!” Dernier exclaims giddily.
Steve just shakes his head and leans back on the log behind him. He runs one hand along the length of Bucky’s back, grateful for the darkness and the fact that the Commando’s were now too caught up in an argument over who would wear the Captain America suit better. Bucky leans into his touch and falls back against the log as well, an easy smile spilling across his lips.
“Bed?” Steve asks softly.
Bucky’s smile widens and he chuckles lowly, shaking his head. He sighs dramatically and gets to his feet, ignoring the outraged cries of the rest of the team.
“I’m beat.” Bucky explains with a laugh before marching over to their tent.
Steve only waits a few minutes before following him, pretending not to hear Dum Dum’s;
“’Bout as subtle as a brick there, Cap.”
“Yes, at least wait a few more minutes if you’re trying to fool us.” Falsworth stage whispers.
Steve walks away from the sniggering group and climbs into the tent eagerly, unable to keep the grin from his face when he sees that Bucky has already removed his uniform and is waiting for him beneath his old, stained sheet.
“Doesn’t bother you that the boys have a wager on to see how many different excuses we can come up with to go to bed early?” Bucky laughs as Steve quickly unbuttons his own shirt.
Steve grins even wider and shakes his head.
“I didn’t even give them an excuse this time.” He chuckles before pouncing.
The laughter that escapes Bucky is loud and boisterous and he only laughs harder when they hear the Commando’s singing trying to drown them out.
“Shh.” Steve chuckles, dragging his mouth down the line of Bucky’s throat. “Let’s at least try and pretend we’re sleeping.”
Bucky’s answering kiss silences them both. They kiss slowly. Their movements are languid and indulgent and when Steve finally gets his hand on Bucky, he is more than a little bit surprised by the way the other man pulls his hand away, an apologetic look on his face.
“What?” Steve whispers, breathing harshly. “You don’t want to?”
They’ve been building to this moment for weeks; they both know it but Bucky’s face is hesitant and Steve can feel the atmosphere being sucked out of the tent in one, quick movement. He nods to himself and sits back on his heels, unable to keep the disappointment from his eyes.
“I wanna wait.” Bucky breathes, his chest flushed from their kissing alone. “I wanna do this right.”
Steve looks at him uncertainly and quirks an eyebrow.
“Wait til when?” he asks curiously.
“Til we’re married.” Bucky answers simply.
Steve snorts and rolls his eyes fondly.
“I haven’t said yes yet.” He points out with a smirk.
“You will.” Bucky says confidently, wrapping his hand around Steve’s arm and pulling him down again. “Someday soon, you will.”
.
But.
Bucky.
Falls.
(And Steve wishes he’d said yes.)
.
“Barnes, watch your left.”
“Roger that, Romanov.”
“Rogers that?”
“Shut up, Stark.”
“Cap, Barnes is coming up on your right.”
“Got it, ‘Tasha.”
Steve stops and smirks over his shoulder as he watches his appear by his side, his hair windswept and a wide smile on his face.
“Well, hey there, Captain, you busy or you got room for one more?” He teases, nodding at the motorbike Steve was straddling.
“Always got room for you.” He mocks, shuffling forward so that Bucky can slide in behind him.
He wraps his metal arm around Steve’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling.
“Fancy taking a detour?” he whispers against Steve’s cheek.
Steve chokes down his laugh and raises his eyebrows when Bucky rubs himself against his behind, metal fingers stroking his stomach.
“I thought you were gonna wait ‘til we were married?” Steve jokes breathlessly.
“Knew it! Hear that, Barton? You owe me fifty bucks!”
“Oh, yeah.” Bucky muses in a bemused tone. “Marry me, punk?”
Steve purses his lips and pretends to think. The silence extends to the comm and when Steve finally agrees, the Avengers start whooping and clapping. Steve turns around on the bike and faces Bucky with a dopey grin on his face.
“And to think there was a time where I wanted to marry Jessica Roberts.” He chuckles.
Bucky leans forward and steals a kiss, his eyes dark and full of something that makes Steve’s skin feel too tight.
“I never had that problem.” Bucky breathes into his mouth. “It was always you.”
“Damn, Barnes. You smooth, man.”
.
And it was always Bucky for Steve as well; he just didn’t want to give the jerk a big head.
(But he always knew; of course he did.)