Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bucky and his family had just moved to Brooklyn from Indiana two weeks ago, and needless to say he didn't have many complaints. There were way more kids to play with, and at 12 years old that's just what he needed. He hadn't gotten quite used to apartment living yet though, and money was harder to save. His parents, ever trying to shelter him and Rebecca, didn't say it but he was smart. He tried not to think about it too much, but it was hard when they were all crammed into the apartment. He was glad they sent him out shopping.

There was a bodega down the street, and to be honest he barely even knew what that was, but apparently you could buy groceries from there. Winifred had tucked some money in his pocket, handed him a list of the basics and sent him on his way. Even though he had the list, he kept repeating 'eggs, milk, bread, peanut butter' over and over again in his head. There were other things on the list of course, but these were things that could get them through the week. Bucky knew this, and it would not be fun to have to go back later this week if he forgot something, if they could manage to go back at all within the next week.

Bucky was still navigating his new neighborhood, overwhelmed by tall, cramped apartment buildings and kids running up and down the street causing problems. He saw a few older folks out supervising a few kids, but it was the summer and adults had other things to than watch children wrestle on the asphalt. That was apparently normal everywhere, because it wasn't any different in Indiana, where he and Rebecca would be tossed out and told not to come home until dark. Despite all the sounds and smells and other kids flinging past him, he knew the bodega was close. So he just walked up the street in the opposite direction of shoppers coming home with grocery bags in their hands and hoped he was right.

Bucky was right, of course. He was given a good dose of common sense and natural knowledge of direction, and he was too stubborn to let that fail him now. He saw the bodega come into view after a few minutes of walking, the street longer than he expected.

Little did he know he was about to have other expectations shattered for him.

Bucky expected this to be quick and simple, but when had anything in his life been since moving here? As he finally crossed the street, about to walk in front of the alley between the bodega and the apartments to its left, a scrappy blonde boy came careening from the alley, forced back, practically summersaulting over himself. He was bruised and bloody, but as he peeled himself up off the pavement he stuck his fists back up, glaring daggers with his blue eyes at a bigger red-headed boy who emerged from the alley like a shark smelling blood in the water.

The blonde boy was full of fury, of fierce determination, and it seemed to be paying off. The bigger kid had a growing mottled purple mark spreading over his eye, and his lip appeared to be split. This kid was punching well above his weight class, and all Bucky could do was stare as the blonde kid turned, spat blood and said "I could do this all day.".

Jesus H. Christ, is this what all boys from Brooklyn are like?

The nasty looking redhead raised his fist, and Bucky couldn't help himself. "Look out!" He shouted, and thankfully didn't distract the blonde boy, who got the memo and ducked before rushing full force and tackling the redhead. Goddamn, that was more than what Bucky was expecting him to do. He couldn't help himself, and he cheered out loud.

The redhead didn't seem to take to that very kindly though, and managed to shove the blonde boy off of him, and he hit the ground hard enough that it seemed to knock the wind out of him. The blonde clutched at his chest, beginning to gasp as the redhead pulled himself up. He looked like he was winding up to kick the poor boy laid out on the sidewalk, gasping like he was part fish.

Bucky found he couldn't help himself again. He ran full force, yelling some kind of half-formed battle cry, and wrestled the bigger kid to the ground again. After a few seconds of struggle, Bucky knew he had him pinned, so he took the advantaged and socked the redhead hard in the other eye. Matching shiners seemed like they would get the idea through his skull.

If only Bucky knew what idea he was fighting for. He just didn't like that this blonde kid seemed to be getting beat on unfairly. The redhead seemed to have put the blonde kid out. It didn't look like he was getting back up.

Bucky got distracted enough with these thoughts that the redhead was able to shove him off and scramble back up. Bucky was able to catch himself, so he didn't hit the ground too hard. He looked up at the other kid, who had turned back to the blonde boy, but this time, he didn't look like he was gonna hurt him. Well, physically at least.

"Got yourself a friend here, huh? I didn't sign up for this," said the redhead, sneering. "F-Fuck ... you." The blonde boy wheezed out, somehow still managing to sound angry when he hadn't even sat back up, still struggling to just get some oxygen to his lungs.

"I don't need this right now. See you around, Rogers," the redhead spat the name like a curse. The blonde, last name Rogers (well, Bucky assumed it was his last name), pressed the hand not digging into his sternum into the cement to try and push himself up as the redhead was turning to leave. The bigger boy stamped on Rogers's fingers, laughing as he walked away. Rogers sucked in a sharp breath at the pain, which seemed to quickly be a mistake.

All Bucky did was watch helplessly as the other boy suddenly began hacking a thick, painful sounding cough. It lasted an uncomfortably long time, until his breathe settled back into ragged gasps and wheezes. Bucky had never seen anyone do that before. He managed to shake himself out of his daze when he heard his mother's voice in his head saying 'James, you oughtta help the boy' like she would have in a million other situations.

Bucky scrambled to his feet, his own chest heaving from being at the tail end of the fight. He offered his hand to the blonde who swatted it away, indignant despite being bloody, sweat soaked, and currently unable to breathe properly.

"I-I ... had 'im ... o- ... on th-the ... ropes," the smaller boy wheezed out, shakily pushing himself up off the pavement. "Sure you did," Bucky replied, mostly sincere, although there was a tinge of sarcasm laced in his words. He might have, but in the end one young Mr. Rogers was the one who ended up eating pavement. Said boy didn't even acknowledge the line, just kept digging his knuckles into his sternum and made a beeline for the bodega door. Bucky remembered he actually needed to go there, and dashed after him.

The bell jingled once as Steve stumbled in, and then once more when Bucky nearly tore the damn thing off its hinges following him. A thick-accented man spoke a hello, not looking up from the newspaper on the counterhe was reading.

That was, of course, until Rogers wheezed out "Mh ... Mr. Ca... Canales," and the man's head snapped up. He was middle aged and clean shaven, with brown skin and short black hair graying at the temples. He was dressed simply. His eyes went wide at the sight of the blonde boy, concern and worry written across his face.

"Steven!" exclaimed Mr. Canales, rushing out from behind the counter to meet the blonde. Bucky stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Mr. Canales did catch sight of him, and smiled tightly. "Hello, sorry, I will be with you in a moment," he said, voice laced with worry. Bucky just nodded and watched as Mr. Canales crouched to look better at Steven's face.

Mr. Canales grimaced, taking in the damage. "You are breathing hard. Go get a pack of gum, I am going to call your mama," he said, and Steven nodded, walking sorely to an isle of candy to find a packet of gum. Bucky wanted to ask why gum, but he couldn't think of a single word as he watched the bodega owner walk back behind the counter and bring the corded phone to be held between his ear and his shoulder as dialed a number like this was routine. Somewhere in the candy isle he heard Steven cough hard once.

"Sorry about this," Mr. Canales said to Bucky sympathetically as the line rang. "But business gets put on hold for family."

Something about that struck Bucky hard, and all he could do was swallow and nod. Even the women at his mother's church group had never been this kind, but this seemed as easy as breathing for Mr. Canales. As Bucky heard him begin speaking on the phone, a soft 'Hola Sarah,' leaving his lips, he tried to begin wandering the isles for the groceries he needed, but found himself being drawn to the candy aisle.

Steve cannot believe that happened. He was flustered, both from embarassment and rage as he shakily carried himself to the candy isle. Mr. Canales was nice enough to let him cop the gum for free.

Steve had turned 11 just over a week ago, and his Ma had joked that he inherited an Irish rage a little too young. He was apparently "just eleven," but that was no fuckin' excuse in his eyes. The Brooklyn streets were too mean to ignore. He couldn't not do something, especially when Billy Jones was going around pushing girls to try and see 'em cry. It just wasn't right. His Ma taught him that. It was one thing if he wanted to call him nasty names for his crooked spine and struggling lungs, but you don't just go around picking on someone who didn't deserve it.

Steve had been beating on Billy hard in that alley cause he had tried to hurt Jane, a nice girl who lived with her grandparents next to Mr. Canales's bodega, just outside it. Steve saw him reaching for her pigtails, and had made it just in time to tell him to fuck off. Of course, he got asked what he was gonna do about it and so Steve kicked him in the shin and punched him in the mouth and said "I'm gonna do that." Jane had enough time to run home before the actual scuffle started.

Then he had to get thrown outta the alley as soon as this dark haired kid shows up. Thankfully, he didn't intervene at first but I mean. He still did. Steve had Billy on the ropes. Even if he kicked him while he was down, he could've gotten back up.

Maybe.

It didn't fucking matter. Steve's lungs were aching and he was trying hard to not cough loud and hard again. He ripped open the packet of spearmint gum and shoved a stick in his mouth as quickly as he could. Steve didn't really remember how he figured this trick out, but the gum would help soothe his throat when he forgot to carry an inhaler. Or in that one instance it got broken on purpose by a kid on the playground.

Just as he was making a feral idiot out of himself, the dark haired kid rounded the corner into the aisle all wide-eyed n' stuff. Steve felt his anger rise all over again.

"I didn't- I didn't ... ne... need you to do that!" Steve barked almost immediately, still wheezy. He clutched at his chest, waiting for his trick to work. "I had him o-"

"On the ropes. Yeah," the dark haired kid's face slowly split into a grin, and Steve's anger subsided a bit. There was no lingering sorrow, or pity, or pride at saving some poor stupid punk. This kid really seemed to believe in him. "Sometimes people just need more than one beating in a day. Oh, and by the way, if someone's got you down, grab their legs. I'm James. 'Cept no one calls me that. I'm Bucky," the dark haired boy rambled, that big, toothy grin lighting up the whole damn aisle. Bucky stuck is hand out to shake.

Steve found himself smiling back as he took his hand, shaking it hard. "Noted. Steve Rogers," he said back, hearing his Ma in the back of his head. 'Your first and last name together are more memorable, Steven. Make them remember you.'

"You ain't fr- from here, huh?" Steve asked as he dropped Bucky's hand. "Nope," replied Bucky. "We're from Indiana! My mom's got family in the city, and dad got a new job or something? I don't really know."

Steve nodded, letting Bucky ramble as he took a few deep breaths, feeling his throat and chest loosen inhaling the mint from the gum. Indiana huh? He ain't never been outside the city. He'd barely been to other boroughs, a Brooklyn boy through and through. "Well, I lived here my whole life. Think we l- live in the same building. I saw the truck!" He exclaimed, excited.

Steve watched as Bucky mulled over the info. Finally, a boy his age who took him for who he was. He wasn't a punching bag or a fucking charity case. He was Steve Rogers and Bucky was okay with that. Steve could practically jump for joy if his chest didn't want to cave in on itself every time he moved.

"That's awesome!" Bucky said, absolutely lighting up. "I actually have a friend now!" He then suddenly seemed to remember something, frowning. "I have groceries to get, I can't play right now." Steve was genuinely amazed that Bucky seemed disappointed, fiddling with a now crumpled shopping list. It must have gotten roughed up in the fight too. It looked about as crumpled as Steve felt, even if he wouldn't ever admit that, and that made him feel disappointed too.

"That's okay," Steve said, chest finally relaxing some. God bless Mr. Canales. "My Ma is gonna want me to come home anyway."

Right on cue, the bell sounded as the door open, and he heard his Ma's lilting voice call out worriedly through the bodega. "Steven?" Before he could answer, Mr. Canales called out in response. "He's finding gum, Mrs. Rogers."

"God bless ya'. You are heaven sent Mr. Canales," Sarah said, and Steve heard the click of her heeled clinic shoes on the linoleum tile floor as she made her way through the small store. She must have just gotten home from work. Steve felt his whole body relax, knowing he was really safe, that his Ma had found him.

"That's my Ma," Steve said quietly, a grin spreading across his face. It looked to him like Bucky couldn't even help smiling back, and something about that seemed to make him happier too. Huh. Weird. "She'll be happy to know I'm breathin' now, but I'm gonna be hearin' all about the fightin' later." Then he laughed, and then Bucky laughed and soon they were holding their stomachs. They didn't even really know what they were laughing about.

Steve's laugh just had to turn into a barking, wheezy sounding cough as soon as his mother rounded the corner. Bucky had stopped laughing, a hand on his back as they lowered to the ground.

"Steven!" Sarah exclaimed, horrified at the sight on her son. She was still in her sterile white uniform, and as she knelt on the ground to rub Steve's back while he was hacking and coughing, with each sharp inhale he could still smell sterile hospital on her. That made his stomach tie up in knots. He hated the hospital, but he forced himself to breathe. To not think about it. This was so embarrassing, to struggle in front of a new friend like this.

Steve's eyes were welling up with frustrated, pained tears. His chest hurt, and so did his pride, but eventually his lungs stuttered to a stop and he could breathe again. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against his Ma.

"I .. wanna ... go home," he wheezed, and Sarah hummed her response. She looked at Bucky and said "Thank ya' for your help lad." Steve could hear the genuine thanks in his mother's voice, and that made him frustrated even though it was deserved. Bucky didn't happen to just stumble upon him and help. Well, he did, but now it was more than that! They were friends.

Sarah helped Steve get to his feet, which he accepted as he wheezed. He felt like a damned fool in front of Bucky, but his Ma was maybe the one person in the whole world who could help him, and he wouldn't fight. She didn't deserve that. "Th ... th ..." Steve gasped as he stood, trying to make eye contact with Bucky. Trying to make him understand.

Steve watched the gears turn in Bucky's head as he frowned slightly. "...Third floor?" He guessed, eyebrows furrowed. Steve managed a weak smile, and it made his face feel like it might as well have been splitting in two. Christ he was tired. He nodded once, and his Ma seemed to get the idea. "Apartment 303," she said, and Steve could hear the smile in her voice. She may have been almost as excited as Steve was, if only he couls show it. If only he was stronger. "Perhaps you and your Ma should come by later? Once Steve rests."

Steve watched Bucky nod furiously, and then his Ma led him out the door and into the loud street. Underneath the burning ache of his lungs, he could feel happiness swelling in his chest as his Ma walked them back home.

Bucky about crashed into his apartment. He had been gone a little over an hour. Between the fight and meeting Steve and being told to come over, he left the bodega and came back three separate times before securing all the necessary goods.

"Mom, I'm home!" Bucky called out, tossing the groceries onto the counter top in the kitchen. The apartment had three bedrooms, but the living room and the kitchen were really small and practically the same place. That was so weird, and he wasn't sure if he could get used to that. His mom stuck her head out of her and his dad's bedroom, dark curly hair coming loose from its bun. "D'ja get everything James? You were gone a long time" Winifred said, sounding somewhere between exasperated and concerned. "Sure did!" Bucky replied, grinning. "Also, I made a friend!"

Winifred gasped and smiled big at her son. "I told you it would happen. What's his name?"

"Steve," Bucky replied as he took the egg carton and the milk out of their bags to stick in the fridge. "They live on our floor, a few doors down. His mom said to come by later."

"How much later?" Winifred asked, fully stepping out of the room. "She's not expecting us now is she?"

"Dunno," Bucky replied, ignoring the knot that question put in his stomach. Was he supposed to bring his mom over now? Steve's mom didn't give him a time, was he being a bad friend? Goodness, this was gonna be more stressful than he thought. "His mom just said he needed to rest for a bit first. He was breathin' awful hard, mom. And he kept coughing. Plus he had gotten kinda wailed on by a kid a lot bigger than him. That's how we met."

Winifred's expression was one of several emotions. She was pretty good at those, in Bucky's experience. "Goodness, the poor boy. Well, we should definitely go by. Normally I wouldn't go by someone's house empty-handed but..."

"They know we just moved in mom," Bucky reassured her, still stocking away groceries as he talked. Jeez, he got more than he thought. The list looked small enough. "It'll be okay! I think his mom just wants to meet you, and I wanna play with Steve! I actually made a friend before school started. I should know him good before it starts."

"Okay James! Goodness you are my son, aren't you?" His mother laughed, shaking her head. "Let me unpack the rest of the box I'm on, and you get yourself cleaned up and we'll go. How about it?"

"Okay!" Bucky chirped, practically throwing the bread in the pantry. He could hear his mother chuckling as he dashed to the small bathroom to wash up, the most excited he had been since before they left Indiana.

Steve was sat at his kitchen table, feet dangling from the chair he was on. His face was cut up and bruised, just barely avoiding another broken noise. His Ma had long since finished ringing out the bloody rag she had taken to his busted face, and had stuck bandaids to every cut that could take one. His Ma had brought him his inhaler too, helped him use it even. Now, she was sitting next to him, reading.

They had been sitting like this for a while. Sarah Rogers wasn't one to repeat herself, so it was on Steve to let her know if the conversation needed to be different.

"It was Billy Jones, Ma," Steve said quietly, finally breaking the silence. "He was bein' mean t' the girls again. I saw him boutta hurt Jane!"

Sarah tucked her bookmark between the pages and closed her book gingerly, looking up at her son with bright blue eyes that matched his. "Steven," she said softly, accent somehow thicker around him in their home. He wondered how he ended up with a Brooklyn accent when he just wanted to sound like his Ma. "I know you aren't gettin' in'ta fights that aren't deserved, and I'm always gonna tell you to get back up. You just ... you need to get smart about this."

Steve huffed, crossing his arms and glaring down at the table. Even when he was mad at his Ma, he found it hard to look at her with disdain. Especially when she was right. "If I don't start the shovin', someone else will," was his only defense against her words. Sarah could only sigh at that. She wasn't going to repeat herself. Not about the intelligence of picking fights, not even about choosing the battles themselves. Steve knew all that, and it was up to him if he wanted to use it.

Steve didn't. He thought every fight was a smart fight, even if he got knocked around. Even if he got beat on harder than he could give it back. But how could he tell his Ma that? She just went back to reading, and he slid off the chair to go get his sketchbook.

As soon as Steve's feet hit the ground, there was a soft-sounding knock at the door that caused him to flinch and his mother to snap her head up. "I guess the neighbor boy decided to take us up on the offer, eh?"

Steve watched in abject shock as his Ma just waltzed her way to the door all easy. What if this all went wrong? What if Bucky was nice to him outta pity? He was suddenly horribly anxious, and he wanted to stop her but it was too fucking late. Sarah had already thrown the door open, so all Steve could do was stand and stare and wait.

"Hello!" Steve listened to his Ma chirp, pleasant as ever. "You must be...?"

"Winifred Barnes," Steve heard another woman's voice respond. She certainly didn't sound like a New Yorker, so she must be Bucky's Ma. The ball of anxiety in his chest eased a bit. Son of a bitch, they did come after all. "Sarah Rogers," his Ma chirped back, cheerful as ever.

Steve knew he was just staring stupidly as Bucky ran up when Steve's own Ma stepped aside to let him, his Ma and a little girl who was probably Bucky's little sister in, but Steve couldn't make himself do anything else. "What? D'ja think I forgot about you?" Bucky asked, grin wide. Jeez was he psychic or something?

Trying to brush off his shock, he figured being a smartass would save him. "I coulda won than fight, Bucky," Steve said, slowly grinning big.

Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes, but his smile didn't fade. "You are such a stubborn punk, y'know?"

"Well you're a jerk!"

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, eyes wide and grins huge, and suddenly they were laughing, hard, and thank the good lord that Steve's laugh didn't turn into coughing. They laughed for what felt like hours, but when they calmed down, Bucky slung his arm over Steve's shoulder and he tired t ignore face going all hot. Weird.

"So punk," Bucky teased, jostling Steve a bit, making him laugh. God why is Bucky so good at doing that? "What'd'you for fun around here?'"

"Well, jerk" Steve teased back, grin turning mischievous easily, "I draw, but c'mon we can play cards or something."

As they marched off to Steve's room, they missed their mothers sighing in tandem. "I haven't seen him this happy in a long time," both women said, and then stopped. Heads turned, grey eyes met lue, and suddenly both women were laughing as hard as their sons were a few minutes ago. Maybe it was easier to make friends in the city that Sarah and Winifred assumed.