Chapter Text
The church bells rang excitedly to mark the end of the school day and the dawn of a new hour. Bucky dumped all his belongings over his desk and into his small leather briefcase. The one his dad had gifted to him last Christmas. “Every little man needs his own,” he had said. Bucky slid the strap over his shoulder and ran out the doors of the classroom.
He ran down the hallway, weaving in and out of people. With the same momentum he pushed open the school doors—and promptly halted. Rain pelted down in deary drops just outside the overhang of the school’s front entrance. Soft, but enough to startle surprise out of Bucky. Children scurried here and there with umbrellas above them, car doors slammed anxiously and just down the steps and across the dirt road Bucky spotted a figure, slim framed and wearing tan dress shorts. Bucky rushed to get his umbrella from his bag. He sprinted down the stairs, undoing the umbrella’s strap and opening it.
“Steve!” Bucky called across the street. “Steve! It’s me!” The umbrella caught on the wind, resisting Bucky as he ran.
Bucky must’ve miscalculated the distance between them because he came crashing into Steve. In order to brace them both wrapped his free arm around the other boy and they fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs and surprise. Out of the two of them Bucky caught most of the fall. His entire side was coated in mud and when he looked over at Steve he had some splattered on his face. Bucky sat up and laughed. He couldn’t help himself. He didn’t even care that the longer he sat the more the mud seeped into his clothes and the more wet he got.
Steve glared down at him, having already stood. But a small smile flickered at the edges of his lips, wobbly at best, but still there. Looking up at the small rain drenched boy, rain droplets falling from his hair and chasing each other down his skin, Bucky decided that he would do anything to see any semblance of happiness written across Steve’s face; even if it meant making a fool of himself.
Steve offered out his hand. Bucky scrambled from his umbrella and took Steve’s hand when he found it.
“Saving me now, I see,” Bucky teased, getting up. When he was able, Bucky made sure to hold the umbrella over both their heads but it wasn’t big enough. Slowly Bucky’s side approached becoming thoroughly soaked. That was okay with him, as long as Steve was covered.
“You looked like you needed it.” Steve said, shrugging.
A smile shot across Bucky’s face. Had Steve made a joke? He had begun to think that maybe he was incapable, but maybe Steve just warmed up to people slower than Bucky did.
Steve stopped walking. “Where are you going?”
“With you.” Bucky responded easily.
Steve’s face crumbled into squinting eyes and pressed lips. He stared at Bucky and all he could do was smile back at him. Eventually Steve relented and continued on his path. Bucky followed.
Steve stopped again. “No, seriously,” he said.
“You know I think that’s your issue.” Bucky flung his arm out in exasperation. “You’re too serious.”
Steve sighed. “As long as this isn’t some ploy, I don’t care what you do.”
“No ploy, I promise.”
Okay maybe it was somewhat a ploy. But Steve looked as if all this rain would somehow give him all sorts of pneumonia. His skin was paler than usual and Bucky could’ve sworn there was a chatter to his words when he spoke. No harm, no foul, right?
“I don’t believe you.” Steve said, glaring slightly at Bucky.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to, I’ll just stick around til you do.”
“You don’t let up.” Steve said.
“Pffft says you!”
Steve glared at him some more.
“Okay, I’m sorry.” Bucky looked over at Steve. He didn’t look convinced, but Bucky wasn’t in the game for convincing. “No, really. I admire your insistence on getting your lights knocked out. It’s truly inspiring.”
The wind shoved past Bucky, the promise of heavier rain lingering in its wake.
“You should really learn when to stop talking.” Steve spat out and sped up, his shoes splashing angrily in the muddy puddles.
Bucky trailed behind him, rain drops crashing down angrily. “Hey, wait up! Steve, please.” His hand caught Steve’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He said and this time he meant it. “I didn’t mean what I said. I just—I don’t know. Why don’t you just run? I don’t get it.
They had both stopped by now, giving Steve ample time to look him up and down. His eyes lingered on Bucky’s gold cufflinks and mud coated shoes that—despite their current state—maintained their shine.
“There’s a lot you don’t get.”
Thunder clapped overhead and the sky opened, unleashing all its wrath upon them. Steve brushed off Bucky’s hand and stepped out of the shelter of Bucky’s umbrella. Bucky stood motionless, watching Steve’s figure recede into the white clash of the storm. He hadn’t noticed it before but Steve didn’t have a blazer, let alone cufflinks. His hair was overdue for a trim and his shoes appeared to have years of wear marking the leather. It never occurred to Bucky to notice these things about another person before. He was really sorry this time.
Bucky ran to catch up to Steve. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he yelled over the rain.
“No need.” Steve said blandly, barely audible over the wind. But Bucky could tell by what little of his tone that he heard that he didn’t mean it. He was shaking and Bucky knew that wasn’t only from frustration this time.
Bucky awkwardly slipped his bag off his shoulder, the umbrella making his movements difficult. With much effort he was able to shrug off his blazer. Bucky shivered as the crisp air trailed up his spine and goose bumps formed under the sleeves of his uniform shirt, the thin fabric doing nothing to avoid the cold prick of the wind.
Steve jumped a little when Bucky draped his blazer over his shoulders. It was still warm with body heat and it took a second before Steve’s stubbornness kicked in.
Steve narrowed his eyes. “What’s this?”
“An apology.” Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know, you looked cold.”
“Apology not accepted…and I’m not cold.” But Steve made no attempt to remove the blazer. In fact, he slipped his arms further into it, the fabric seeming to envelop Steve completely.
“Neither am I.” Bucky lied. “In fact I was sweating in that thing.” Just at that exact moment Bucky shivered.
“Lair,” Steve said, but there was a reluctant playfulness in his voice.
Bucky just smiled; because maybe they didn’t know each other well enough to know each other's boundaries, but they were learning, and everything was going to be just fine. Despite the wind and rain. And hey! Maybe Bucky had gone and made himself a friend in this big and lonely city.
As they walked their shoulders brushed. At their sides, every now and then a fingertip would graze another. There was a silent shyness about their forced closeness, but neither boy was sure what it meant. In their heads there wasn’t so much as a possibility of anything more; it didn’t even occur to them.
When Sarah Rogers opened the door there were not one, but two rain soaked boys looking up at her from underneath an umbrella—that clearly did not suffice against the fierceness of this storm.
“Oh my,” she said, evidently caught off balance. She regained her footing quickly. “Well, come along then; inside.” She ushered the boys through the doorway, but Bucky stayed behind, a little unsure if she meant him too. “You too, sweetie.” She said to him. Bucky closed his umbrella and followed Steve inside.
“Good heavens, you’re soaked through to the bone, Steve.” Steve’s mom said as she closed the door. Soon she was gone down a hallway to retrieve something.
The home in front of Bucky was small and very different from his own. The kitchen was to his right. The varnish on the fixtures was tarnished and the wood floors were chipped in places. But despite its flaws it was more of a home than Bucky’s house. Especially the living room which had a floral couch and a running fire burning. There were picture frames on the mantel and side tables, newspapers spread out on the coffee table, and blankets tossed mindlessly on the couch. At his place there was never even a speck of dust out of place, which made his house feel vacant of the people that lived there.
“So, this is where you live.” Bucky said to fill the silence, still taking in the space around him. “It’s very homey.”
Steve said nothing but seemed to retreat deeper into the blazer Bucky had given him.
Soon Sarah returned with two towels. She wrapped the first over Steve’s shoulders. “Go freshen up before you catch a cold.” She said, nudging Steve.
Steve retreated down the same hallway Sarah had. Bucky suddenly became very aware that he was incredibly out of place here. But Sarah draped the other towel over Bucky's shoulders, whisking away all his anxious energy. It was a comforting gesture that sent a pang straight to his heart. This woman looked nothing like his mother; with her blonde pinned up hair and hazelnut eyes, but it was her demeanor that reminded Bucky of her. There was something in her eyes, her body and face that echoed of his mother. It was immediately both reassuring and heartbreaking.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” She asked, brushing up his chin for a fleeting second.
“James.” He said. “But everyone calls me Bucky.”
A puzzled look crossed her face, “Now, why’s that?”
“My middle name, ma’am. It’s Buchanan. Buchanan, Barns.”
A smile spread across her face. “James Buchanan Barnes?”
Bucky nodded.
“How proper of you,” she gushed. “Oh, and please call me Mrs. Rogers.”
Bucky nodded again. “Yes, Mrs. Rogers.”
“Such manners,” she mused, turning towards the kitchen. “Maybe you could teach my Stevie some, hm? He is very stubborn.”
“He is,” Buck giggled.
“Please, come take a seat at the table. Steve should be done any minute now.” She gestured towards a plain wooden table with upholstered seats.
Bucky awkwardly took a seat, the wood creaking beneath him. Mrs. Rogers pulled out a pot from a cabinet and filled it with water. “So, when did you two meet? Steve hasn’t uttered a peep about you.”
“Just earlier today, ma’am. I took him to the nurse.”
Mrs. Rogers hummed knowingly, turning the dial on the stove to heat up the pot of water. “Well, good thing you were there. It’s nice to know someone is looking out for him.” She turned to smile warmly at Bucky.
A sharp pain caught itself around his heart at her fleeting gesture. Water welled in his eyes but he fought it back. He would not cry in front of this sweet woman. Bucky sniffed back the emotion that rose in his throat, hoping to rid himself of it completely. Grief was a funny thing. It didn’t come when expected. It didn’t come when Bucky felt the life in his mothers hand recede as he held it, didn’t come when he sat front row at her funeral, or even when he left the city in which she layed. It came in moments like this, when he caught glimpses of her in other people, when the tender touch of her reassurance brushed his hair.
“Sweetie, is everything alright?” Mrs. Rogers appeared in front of him.
Bucky nodded but before he registered it, his cheeks were wet with salty tears. He wiped them away quickly, slightly embarrassed that such a minuscule thing had conjured this from him.
Mrs Rogers' voice was soft and tentative when she spoke next. “Sweet boy, what’s the matter?” She asked again, careful.
Bucky shook his head this time while continuing to wipe away the tears as they came. It was then that Steve chose to make an appearance. His presence made Bucky’s heart sink. But he didn’t say a word when he sat down at the table across from him.
“I’ll go fetch some tissues,” Mrs Rogers said. She rushed down the hallway and disappeared.
“It’s stupid,” Bucky admitted, sheepishly.
“Tell me anyway,” Steve said.
“A couple weeks ago,” Bucky gulped, “my mother died. She was really sick, so I had enough time to prepare. I don’t know why I’m crying about it now. I didn’t even cry at her funeral,” he laughed bitterly.
“Oh,” was all Steve said. It was quiet with understanding.
“I’m really sorry for intruding.” Bucky sniffled and got up from his seat.
“You’re not intruding. I think my mom is actually happy you’re here. She thinks you’re my friend.” Steve said, feeling a little silly.
“Am I not?” Bucky asked, suddenly distracted.
Steve shrugged. “I suppose.”
A slow steady smile broke across Bucky’s face. They were friends. Steve had admitted it. That meant Bucky had officially made his first friend in Brooklyn.
When Mrs Rogers returned the tissues in her hand were no longer needed. She set them aside easily and grabbed two mugs to pour water into.
“Momma? When do you think the rain will slow down?” Steve asked as she handed the two boys each a warm mug.
“I’m not sure sweetie, but Bucky is welcome to stay as long as he needs. Shall I phone your house to let them know you are alright?” She suggested.
Bucky nodded shyly. He really didn’t want to overstay his welcome. But Mrs Rogers returned his nod with one of her own and headed towards the living room, without a second thought.
Steve took a sip of the warm liquid, holding the mug close to his face to soak up the steam. Bucky did the same, a little sad at the fact they didn’t have any tea bags to flavor the water. He pictured the abundance of tea flavors in their respective drawer at his place and his chest grew heavy. He didn’t mind the lack of flavor as he drank but he was beginning to notice the small luxuries in his life that others simply didn’t have. It made him inexplicably sad.
“Yes, is this the Barns' residence?” Bucky faintly heard Mrs Roger say into the phone. “My name is Sarah Rogers. James walked home with my son, Steve, today. He’s a little wet but he’s alright…Yes you can, I’ll go fetch him.” Mrs Rogers stood up from the one arm chair in the living room and beckoned Bucky.
Bucky pushed out of his seat at the table and sprinted over to Mrs Rogers in the living room. He sat down at the couch next to the chair she was sitting in, only partly damp now.
“Ms Diana wants to speak with you.” Mrs Rogers said handing him the phone and retreating into the kitchen to provide some privacy.
Bucky should’ve guessed that it would be Ms Diana who answered. But regardless of the fact he was disappointed that his father didn’t answer, he wasn’t disappointed that Ms Diana did answer. She had relocated with them to Brooklyn and he appreciated her ever present company at the house, even if she was just doing her job attending to the house and Bucky, he was sure that she liked him outside of being paid to do so.
Bucky put the phone to his ear and, “Are you alright? Are they nice, respectable people?” said Ms Diana, worried to high heaven.
Bucky giggled a little into the phone, because, yes they were, and he was in absolutely no danger at all. “Yes, Ms Diana. I’m alright. Steve’s my friend.”
Ms Diana let out a relieved sigh. “You made a friend?”
“Yes, Ms Diana. He’s stubborn but I like him.”
Ms Diana let out a small laugh. “Sounds like someone else I know.”
“Hey! I am not stubborn,” Bucky huffed.
“Sure you aren’t…I’m happy you’re okay—and that you made a friend! See, I told you that you were nervous over nothing.”
“I guess,” Bucky said. He still thought that his anxiety over the subject was completely justified, no matter what Ms Diana said.
“Should I send David over?” Ms Diana asked. Mr Williams to Bucky, was his father’s driver, but when his father didn’t need him he was happy to taxi him around.
Bucky paused before he responded. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave just yet, but once again this wasn’t his home and Mrs Rogers and Steve had a life to attend to outside of him. “Yea,” Bucky said, a little sad that he had to go home so soon.
“Are you sure?” Ms Diana asked.
No, he wasn’t, but he hummed out a yes.
“Okay…Maybe, for some reason, unbeknownst to us, he won’t be notified for another hour,” Ms Diana said.
Bucky perked up. “Oh, yes! Thank you, thank you!”
Ms Diana giggled. “Of course, cariño.”