Chapter 1
The serum had pretty much made him immune to the cold and he barely registered the slight chill in the morning air as he ran down the familiar path. The seventy years in the ice also probably helped matters, he thought with only a slight hint of bitterness.
Before the serum, when he was still himself, every winter had caused his asthma to get worse and the threat of pneumonia permanently hovered over his head. His thoughts returned to this unusually cold day in Brooklyn, a month or so after the passing of his Maa, which had found James Buchanan Barnes the III ambushing him with an ugly old sweater and scarf he'd dug up from the back of some musty closet.
- ''I'm not wearing that.''
- ''Yeah, you are you little punk''
They'd bickered for barely about five minutes and all five feet and four inches of him had been quaking with indignation. He hated feeling weak and delicate and fragile. Steve knew that with Sarah gone, he had no family left. The rickety apartment he'd shared with his Maa was a house, but he had no home left. He was alone and was going to have to fend for himself. Being tough wasn't an option, it was a necessity.
Listening to his best friend fuss over him like this made him feel strangely vulnerable. Bucky had been there for him this past month like always, been his rock after his Maa's passing. If it hadn't been for Bucky, he'd never have gotten through the grief. They had always been and still were inseparable, but times were changing and they were growing up. He knew that Bucky would never leave his side if he had a choice, but he couldn't ruin his best friend's life. Bucky was healthy, smart and strong, he had a bright future ahead of him, a future that the sickly Steve Rogers perhaps wouldn't be a part of. Bucky could have a steady job, get married and start a family, he thought, ignoring the pang of helplessness in his chest. Of course, it would destroy him to not have Bucky in his life but he couldn't watch him throw it all away. The only option left then was to push his best friend away, so raising his voice, he'd said –
- "Buck, leave me alone would you?" Bucky had recoiled a bit at the uncharacteristic venom in his voice. "I ain't made of glass, stop trying to coddle me... You don't have to look after me. I don't need anyone... I can get by – "
- "-Just fine on my own." The expression in Bucky's eyes had been solemn if not slightly hurt. "I know." "I know that you can get by on your own Steve. But the thing is, you don't have to... because, I'm with you till the end of the line." The last words were said slowly and softly and he'd placed his hand on Steve's shoulder.
Even a hundred years later, Steve Rogers could never forget the feeling that had hit him at that moment, nor could he find the right words to describe it. It was a warmth that spread through him slowly, like a hearth had been lit up inside. It was an intense sense of belonging... of home.
Yes, for Steven Grant Rogers home meantBucky Barnes.
Lost for words and trying to fight off the tears welling in his eyes... he'd placed his own hand on top of Bucky's... their eyes had met and he'd returned the broad smile that illumined the beautiful face in front of him. His insides squirmed a little... what he wouldn't give to have stayed stuck in that moment forever.
Unfortunately, fate and the puppy eyed jerk he'd give his soul for in a heartbeat had other plans and in a flash, Steve was caught in a death grip and the brown sweater was being pulled down his face. The fabric covered his eyes, nose and mouth... it felt a little scratchy and smelled of mothballs. He struggled at first, but Bucky was much stronger than he was... and his hands felt so safe and warm that Steve gave up and allowed to himself to be helped into the sweater.
Bucky gave him an extremely smug grin –
- "Quite your colour. Though it sure would look better on me"
- "Jerk"
- "Punk. - Hey - Don't forget the scarf Princess, it really brings out the goddamn blue in your eyes."
- "Language! Bucky..."
His pal. His buddy.
His Bucky.
After all they'd been through.
After all this time.
Till the end of the line.
