Chapter 1

A/N: Hi, all. Sooo. (sighs nervously.) Yes, Unmasked readers, I apologize a million times. I just finished my next chapter a few days ago, but then my computer crashed, and all my unsaved changes got lost…which was practically the whole thing, so I basically have had to do it over from scratch, but I am very, VERY close to being done. And this time I am taking no chances so be on the lookout!

This, as the very simplistic summary stated, is going to be a series of oneshots of all categories and different times, involving Steve and Bucky's relationship through the years. And as you've probably guessed…most if not all of them are going to be slash. Hardly anything really explicit, because A) I've never done anything like that before so I don't want to afflict anyone with my newbie attempts and B) I'm just not comfortable with going into graphic details as yet. If this ship in particular, or just slash in any form is not your cup of tea, please feel free to hit the back button. I won't judge you—mainly because I won't even know, unless you decide to be a troll and read only to leave nasty, abusive comments in the reviews, and then everyone will mock you for reading something you say you object toXD

If you're still with me, however, then please give me your brutally honest opinion of each oneshot. If it's something negative, go ahead, point it out. Nasty and abusive is not the same thing as saying, 'I didn't like such-and-such,' or 'I think you could have done x better'. That's the kind of negativity I WANT. After all, that's why I put these stories out there, to, you know, IMPROVE.

Okay, sermonette over

Saralee is my amazing Beta. Not only is she amazing because she's not an official Beta at all but she still agreed to do this for me, but she has written some kick-ass stuff on her own. So check her out as a favor to me, and all compliments will filter automatically down to her because she's being an immense help to me.

Lunch Date

Tags: Romance, some Angst

Words: 1,962

Pairings: Steve/Bucky

Time: Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger

The first time Bucky held Steve's hand, he broke the law.

Seven years before the war called them to Europe, when they were just kids, too young to vote or go to college, Bucky and Steve sat at an outside table of Rival's diner on a Saturday in the late morning. Bucky had just gotten off work, and Steve, out of school for the weekend, had decided to come with him. The sun had come out of the clouds for the first time in a few heavy days, and it gave everything a look of lightness, and clear, focused radiance almost too pure to be real. Men and women walked along the streets, talking, going in and out if shops. Kids raced along the sidewalks, darting into the road when they could find openings.

"You know," Steve gave Bucky a quick, crooked smile, "When I left the house, I told Mom I had a date."

"Oh, did you?" Bucky's eyes widened, the corners of his mouth turning up just a little into a smirk.

"Yeah." Steve gave Bucky his own small smile as if of private victory. He leaned forward, casually, but lowered his voice just enough so that only Bucky could understand his words. "I told her I had a wonderful fellow waiting for me at Rival's. He's a bit of a cocky devil, bit of a ladies' man, but he's tall, dark, and so handsome she wouldn't believe it."

Bucky's flicker of a smile disappeared. His eyes held a clear struggle between amusement and sudden anxiety. Other than his eyes, his face went carefully blank. "That's how you described me? To your mother?"

"No." Steve smiled briefly, faintly. A laugh bubbled out of him, more as a release of tension than of joy. "Good lord. But you know, I wasn't lying. I did tell her I was lunching with you and wonderful, tall, dark and handsome describes you perfectly."

The fear in Bucky's eyes melted, but the tension didn't totally leave his body. "What'd she say?"

"She smiled at me." Steve leaned back, speaking normally. "She looked a little sad, actually. But she said something to me. She said, 'Keep that boy close, Steve. He's a true friend of yours. Bucky's been with us, come hell or high water, and he always will be. I know it. A friend like that doesn't come along every day, so just be sure and take good care of him, you hear?"

Bucky finally, visibly relaxed. As if by some instinct he glanced around, though no one was close enough to really hear their low words, let alone understand them. "Jesus, Steve. You tryin' to give me gray hairs before my old age?"

"Well, I think it'd be a good look. For you." Warmth crept into Steve's cheeks, and he tried to focus on anything else to help cut a blush short. "Make you look all distinguished, like a man of the world."

Bucky rolled his eyes but couldn't stop a smile from melting over his face. "Shut up, punk," he grumbled, "Just eat your damn lunch."

Steve's bony kneecap bumped his own under the tiny table, so lightly that it couldn't hurt. "I can't, because it hasn't come yet. Jerk." He said it softly, unlike the casual way they usually threw names around, with a sudden rush of affection and contentment that felt unusually strong.

It was always a comfort, this routine of theirs, the little back-and-forth name game, and little things like these helped Steve feel anchored amid all the ups and downs life had thrown them both. But in this moment, Steve realized, he had found a new way of saying, in a way only Bucky would understand, "I love you."

Bucky's eyes looked startled, wide and vulnerable, and then they grew so soft it made Steve's insides feel like they were melting, and he knew his gentle tone had gotten the message across. He had to glance down as a stronger wave of heat swept through his face to the tips of his ears.

Then Bucky's voice drew his eyes up again. "Put out your hand." He murmured just audibly, his eyes fixed on Steve's face with peculiar intensity.

"What?" Steve asked, blankly.

"Under the table."

"What…?"

"Just do it. Trust me."

Steve hesitated, then slipped one hand under the table. He waited for only a second before he felt something brush against the side of his hand.

"Bucky, what are-," Steve froze as Bucky's fingers grasped his finger, then slipped around, exploring his hand for a second before he wrapped his larger hand around Steve's in a good, firm hold.

All at once Steve's heart felt like it would pound right out of his chest through his shirt any second. Every person on the street, passing by, suddenly stood out in the very forefront of his consciousness, and he and Bucky seemed to be standing out in the middle of the open street like the center of a target practice board.

"Bucky," Steve lowered his voice to practically a whisper, "what the hell are you doing?"

"And I thought you were supposed to be the brilliant high school kid," Bucky sounded so casual, but his eyes were shining, bright and alert, with the familiar light he got with the thrill of danger.

"Are you out of your mind? Someone is going to see us." Steve knew his voice sounded tight and strangled, but he really was trying his best not to sound absolutely terrified or draw attention by baldly hissing at Bucky to let go of his hand right now. He struggled in Bucky's grip, his birdlike hand squirming uselessly in the other man's much stronger one.

"No, they won't. Not if you stop struggling and calm down." Bucky kept his tone absolutely noncommittal and casual, low enough but not too low. "That bush is blocking everyone's view on the street side, and the leg of the table is blocking us on the other side. As long as we don't move our hands and act...normal, we should be fine."

"Bucky, we can't-,"

"Think about it, Steve." Bucky's eyes remained fixed on Steve's face and he just kept talking, a few notches over a whisper. "Who's gonna look under all the tables to see if the people sittin' there are holding hands? People often look for what they expect to see. Who expects to see two men holding hands in public, seriously? Nobody, that's who."

"Buck-,"

"Stevie," Bucky somehow managed to speak in a low voice without losing one ounce of cool. "Breathe. You look scared as hell."

"I am-," Steve closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Then he had the sense to open them and look back at Bucky. God, if his heart kept beating like this, it might fail him. He should tell Bucky that. It was too risky for multiple reasons. But he couldn't draw attention to them. He had to act casual.

"Bucky, this is against the law."

"Steve, we break the law every other night." Bucky leaned a little closer, his voice tightening and his eyes growing hard. "Nobody is going to catch us if we act normal. Now for the last time will you try to relax?" Then his eyes softened and he spoke gently. "Please? C'mon, Stevie, I just wanna do this one thing. It's not as risky as it seems. We'll be fine, I promise. I'm not losing you now, I'm not that stupid. Just trust me, okay? Please?"

Steve brought Bucky's hand over to the left, until he could feel the stem of the table, clearly blocking any view of their joined hands. He glanced up and around. All the people kept on walking by. Nobody at the other tables who happened to look their way gave them a second glance. All at once, it occurred to him that Bucky was right. Nobody would look under the table, because nobody expected to see them holding hands just as if one of them were a dame.

Steve took several deep breaths. His racing heart had slowed down, though it felt nothing near normal. Now that his panic had all but vanished, he noticed the strength, the warmth, the tender clasp of Bucky's capable fingers wrapped around his hand and brushing his palm.

Suddenly, the risk seemed less...well, risky. And much more worthwhile.

"Okay," he whispered, then realized acting normal meant speaking normally. Before he raised his voice, he added, "You're an idiot."

"Yeah, well, you're the one who puts up with him, so who's the bigger-,"

At that moment, a waiter walked up to their table, carrying two plates, and Steve hoped fervently that he sounded as calm as Bucky managed to when he thanked the waiter. Butterflies swarmed around inside him, swirling throughout his stomach and chest. Bucky's hand felt thicker as well as longer, and he could feel all the rough places on the tips of his fingers and the calluses on his palm. Yet despite Bucky's strength, he held Steve's hand so…tenderly, his fingers running over the back of Steve's palm, brushing Steve's hand lightly as they adjusted only a little every now and then. They could get arrested for this, Bucky could lose his job for this, and Steve didn't want him to stop for all the money on earth. Bucky's hand entwined with his felt wonderful and so incredibly right.

Ever since Steve and Bucky had gotten together, they hadn't ever held hands. Not once. In public, they usually couldn't do so, and in private...well, they were either talking, doing something important, or something even more important and viscerally urgent. Somehow in all that time, the simple act of holding hands had never occurred to either of them. It wasn't as if they could do it all the time, after all, not like regular couples did. But still...

Steve leaned back and looked up and down the street. He noticed the people running, walking, driving, all going about their daily business. The sun was shining, the world looked bright, lunch sat before them. Bucky sat across from him at the table, and beneath it, his thumb stroked across the back of Steve's hand, sending flashes of warmth through his hand.

"This is nice."

"Yeah. Thank god the rain cleared up." Bucky leaned back, looking around.

"Not bad at all. It's a beautiful day." Steve said, sincerely. Then he turned towards Bucky. "I wish we had days like this more often."

Bucky's eyes widened slightly, then he smiled. "Me, too."

Steve squeezed Bucky's hand under the table. He felt a sudden intense longing as he glanced over towards a couple walking by, arm in arm, chatting. He wished he could move his hand and Bucky's to the top of the table, that they could simply walk down the street holding hands for all the world to see, just like any other couple, and no one would give a damn.

"Well, this table does have a nice view." Bucky grinned at Steve, and Steve grinned back, feeling like they were both conspirators.

They ate their lunch slowly and kept holding hands. Then, towards the end, Bucky squeezed Steve's hand under the table.

"I gotta go back to work soon." He released Steve, sending a pant through him. Steve clutched at Bucky's hand for a moment longer before reluctantly relinquishing his fingers.

Bucky said nothing but Steve could read an I-told-you-so smirk in his eyes.

"Don't say it," Steve sighed.

"Fine." Bucky grinned triumphantly, and Steve thought fondly that he wished there were a way to wipe Bucky's smirk off his face.

After, as Steve walked home and Bucky to work, each kept absentmindedly rubbing their fingers together, the phantom sensation of the other's hand locked into their skin.

A/N: Oh, I forgot to add something. I will be leaving on vacation this coming weekend (time to update Mask and Unmasked just before I go), and I'll be gone until August 5th or 6th. As soon as I get back, I will get things up and running again. So don't fear, I will not abandon this story. I don't abandon anything I start, I'm too stubborn. Ask any of my old faithful readers just don't look for any updates until that time. Thank you!