It was October 19th of 1936. 18 year old Steve Rogers occupied his mother's kitchen, standing over a pot of water as he ripped open a package of spaghetti noodles. The burners had been turned up all the way for the past 7 minutes, but it felt like it was taking forever for the cheap stove to even start to boil the water. The troubled blonde stared, maybe a little too intensely at it, almost hoping that his burning gaze might speed things up a bit. He was hyper focused because he needed a distraction from his sorrow, having buried his mother yesterday.

His thoughts swirled with memories of her. Some were good. Like when she made him a home baked cake for his birthday every year or when she was able to take him to the annual fun fair when he was a kid. Even just spending a peaceful evening with her at home when she was able to get off work early was nice. She'd cook him one of his favorite meals and then they'd turn on the radio and listen to a program together.

Other memories were not so happy. Most years they weren't able to afford heat during the winter. As a result, Steve who already had a large assortment of permanent health issues, would suffer more colds than usual during the season. Her husband, Joseph Rogers wasn't rich, so there was no money left for her and Steve. Who'd been a gestating fetus when his father died from mustard gas in WW1.

It wasn't easy being a single mother in the 1920's - 1930's. Nurses made little to none and the two barely scraped by every month of every year. But, they always did manage to get by, thanks to his mother's tireless diligence. The tuberculosis ward was always in need of extra staff. She'd often take on extra hours when ever she could. Sometimes working 12-16 hour shifts just so she could afford the frosting for Steve's cake every year. It's how she contracted the disease. Images of a pale Sarah Rogers coughing up blood as her matted hair clung to her sweaty forehead in the TB ward returned to Steve's sleep deprived mind. Plaguing it like the pestilence that had scourged his mother. She had only been in her late 30's when it took her life.

The frown Steve had been wearing since yesterday puckered his brow even more as his vision of the stove began to blur. Obscured by his intensifying thousand-yard stare as his grip on the uncooked spaghetti noodles tightened.

"Don't you know the saying?" he heard a gentle voice say, coaxing him out of his internal tumult "A watched pot never boils"

Steve looked over his shoulder. A charming chocolate haired man with benevolent blue eyes leaned on the kitchen's door-less frame with his arms casually crossed. He wore a sweet smile, but his eyes expressed sympathy.

You weren't supposed to use idioms in a literal sense, but Steve appreciated Bucky's attempt to make him laugh, even though it failed.

"Well, if this water ever does boil, dinner will be ready in 15, maybe 20… years" said Steve, forcing a smile before promptly returning his eyes to the pot "This stove wasn't… isn't even that old…" grief laced his words, making Bucky's eyes sadden empathically.

"…But it brought some good memories" said Bucky, reminiscing about all the times Sarah Rogers had cooked him and Steve delicious meals when they were kids. Steve's favorite being spaghetti. Bucky bit his tongue, before finishing that thought out loud. He just wanted to help alleviate some of Steve's anguish but felt like all he could do right now was walk on eggshells. He'd been Steve's best friend since they were children and was always able to protect the frail blonde physically but felt useless as he wracked his brain for something nice to say for emotional support.

Steve had haphazardly invited Bucky over for dinner that night in an attempt to assuage his sorrow and distract him from the hollow silence of his now motherless apartment. But so far, they'd only awkwardly danced around the elephant in the room to the strain of long suffocating silences. With the stillness weighing on his already heavy thoughts, Steve let out a despondent sigh. A solitary creak of the aged wooden floor and a dry throat ineffectively clearing, cut through the thick silence as Bucky fidgeted awkwardly in the door frame. Still trying to think of something to say or do to comfort his other half.

They had been secretly dating since Steve was 15 and Bucky was 16. Their relationship so far had consisted of double dates, sometimes with secretly lesbian couples to fool the public eye, stolen kisses during sleep overs when their parents had gone to sleep, and a very recent clandestine first time in Bucky's new apartment two months ago. They never openly spoke about their relationship, admitting it out loud felt like it might make things dangerously conspicuous. Instead their love was communicated in silent knowing looks and private passion. If words were too risky, then quiet care was always more than enough.

Bucky lifted his gaze off the floor to Steve's back. He looked even smaller than he usually did with his head lowered over the pot and his slim fingers grasping the brittle noodles against his chest.

A few measly bubbles ascended from the bottom of the pot when Steve felt a pair of supportive arms slide around his waist and a chin hook over his shoulder. It's 5 o'clock shadow faintly scraped the soft skin of his neck. Steve's firm grip on the spaghetti loosened slightly as the hold around his waist tightened comfortingly. Seemingly squeezing some of his grief out of him. He sighed again, more calmly this time as he took one hand off the noodles and placed it on Bucky's bare forearm.

He always liked how Bucky would roll his sleeves up to his elbows after a long day, exposing the slender yet toned flesh underneath. It was a habit Bucky had been doing since they had met back in 1930. At first it was because his sleeves were too long and even though he eventually grew into them he didn't outgrow the habit. Steve who never grew into his clothes, didn't mind though. He'd often find himself staring at the developing muscles in Bucky's forearms with hidden heed as they were growing up. Back then, he couldn't quite place why he always felt so compelled to stare. He passed it off as envy because his body was remaining as slim and brittle as the uncooked spaghetti in his hand. And even though he tried to deny it, his "envy" inevitably revealed its true intention when him and Bucky first 'kissed' when he was 14. If you could call it a kiss.

It happened in August of 1932, after Bucky had pulled Steve away from a group of 5 bullies. Most of the time when Steve got into a brawl, him and Bucky would stand their ground and fight the bullies off. But these ones were around 16-18 years old. Their bodies were much bigger having gone through puberty and towered over the pubescent blonde and brunette. So, the two boys ran. They sprinted a few blocks before they veered around a corner and Bucky yanked the asthmatic Steve behind a dumpster to hide just as he was beginning to wheeze. He had done it so suddenly that the tiny bodied blonde had stumbled violently into the brunette. Practically tackling him. They were still roughly the same height at this age so when Steve had stumbled into Bucky, their lips briefly brushed together. Embarrassed, Steve pushed away from his friend, hastily trying to separate their bodies. But Bucky yanked him close again saying he would be out in the open if he did that. Bucky didn't seem at all fazed by what had just happened. Or by the fact that they were so close together that now it was their chests that were grazing each other as they caught their breath.

"Just incase they find us, get behind me against the wall so I can protect you" he whispered. Bucky's shirt had become torn in the scuffle, exposing one of his collar bones. Steve caught himself staring before turning his reddening face away, crouching down, and then scooting up against the alley wall. His friend then turned his back to him and crouched down in front of him. Steve held his breath which he still hadn't caught when he heard the thundering footsteps of the bullies approaching.

"I saw them turn down this street!" one of them hollered.

His tone was saturated with malice, making his voice drip with vengeful venom. It made Steve shrink even more behind Bucky, hoping they wouldn't check the alley way they were hiding in. His vision started to become garish as the lack of fresh oxygen to his brain made him light headed. He swayed, bumping into Bucky's back before steadying himself and sitting back onto the ground. As quietly as he could, he let out the carbon dioxide that'd been building up in his subpar lungs and took a few shaky yet silent breaths to steady his arrhythmic heart. They heard the bullies turn down the street and keep running as they searched for their prey. After about 30 seconds the sound of their stampeding footsteps and angry jeers faded completely.

The two young boys cautiously crept out from behind the dumpster, looking around to make sure the coast was truly clear before hurrying back to Steve's place. When they got back, an irked Sarah Rogers sighed and scolded the boys for being so reckless before cleaning their cuts and icing their bruises. Steve couldn't help but notice that Bucky had been actively avoiding eye contact since their brush behind the dumpster and would get red faced if Steve stood too close to him for the rest of the evening. At dinner, even though he always sat next to his best friend, he placed himself on the opposite side of the table than Steve. He spent most of the meal twirling his fork in his food. His typically voracious appetite suppressed by his swirling thoughts.

Despite their exhausting efforts to remain reticent, it wasn't long until the boys became acutely aware that their feelings for one another were no longer platonic. Bucky confronted Steve about it when he'd come over on July 4th, 1933 to celebrate Steve's 15th birthday. It'd happened right there in the kitchen after Sarah had stepped out to pick up some cake frosting at the store she'd forgotten earlier. Bucky didn't even have to say anything to communicate what he was thinking. He just gazed at Steve knowingly, with slight apprehension. Which promptly dissipated when he saw the same knowing look reflected in those baby blues on the opposite end of the room. The corners of both boys' eyes then crinkled as fond smiles lit up their features and they tittered out of content. Comforted by the coziness of their new found intimacy.

The memory made Steve smile fondly as Bucky continued to quietly hold him for the next few minutes. The water was finally starting to boil more noticeably now. Sandwiched between the heat rising from the evaporating water and the heat radiating off Bucky's body, Steve felt his spirit slowly warming. He felt like it was rising with the bursting bubbles as Bucky's warm breath billowed over his neck. It invigorated him. The assault of his icy sorrow melted away and was replaced with something more pleasantly distracting. Desire. That's all that Steve wanted right now, a distraction.

He set the noodles down on the counter, away from the water that was now bubbling intensely and looked over his shoulder at Bucky. They locked eyes for a moment. A pining, wounded green blue bled into a welcoming, salve like azure. The blonde closed the almost nonexistent distance between their lips. Just a slow peck at first, testing the waters. Then an open mouth kiss as Steve reached a hand back and stroked Bucky's cheek. Bucky readily reciprocated as Steve swiveled around in his arms. Cupping his stubble and kissing him again. They stood with their foreheads pressed together as Steve hesitated before connecting their lips again, more confidently this time. Their kissing eventually became as hot and effervescent as the evaporating water behind Steve as he continued to practically smash their lips together. When they broke for air, Steve took Bucky's hand and hustled him back to his bedroom.

It was a cozy room with a single west facing window and a small bed whose head was pushed up against the west wall. So, the light from the sun that was just beginning to set poured directly onto the small bed. Inviting the lovers to it.

As soon as they stumbled through the door, Steve yanked Bucky towards him, colliding their lips together again. The impact gave Bucky a start as Steve jumped onto him. Wrapping all four of his limbs around the brunette and shoving his tongue past his lips that had opened during his surprised gasp. Though he was reasonably strong from working at the docks, the sudden weight on the front of his body caused Bucky to stumble forward. Luckily the bed was only a few steps away in the small room and the two men tumbled onto it. Now it was Steve who let out a startled gasp as Bucky's weight landed on his significantly smaller body, causing the men to bounce on the bed. The impact made a cloud of dust erupt from the blankets. The result of weeks of underuse by an insomniac Steve, who was now hurriedly ripping his own shirt off. He didn't even need to unbutton it, it easily slid right off his undersized frame and he threw it to the side. Causing the settling dust in the air to swirl around them like mad fireflies as the particles glimmered in the sun light.

Steve looked up at Bucky and smiled. He resembled an angel. Gazing down at Steve as the heavenly shine from the golden sunlight streamed over his charming features. Making the tips of his hair shine like a halo and his steel blue eyes twinkle more than usual. There was some desire in the brunette's eyes which invigorated the blonde further. But the over abundant aura of concern that easily outmatched the want in Bucky's eyes just reminded Steve of what he was trying to forget. Frustrated, he veiled his resurfacing grief behind his eyelids and pushed Bucky off him to swing his skinny leg over him.

The feel of their hips pressed together was more stimulating to Steve with his eyes closed. Even his pants faintly chafing felt more intense as he readjusted himself on top of Bucky. He kept his eyes closed and leaned his head back as he started to slowly grind his member against Bucky's. It gave him a miniscule sensation that he prematurely tried to lose himself in, but the feeling was seemingly unable to escalate past a tentative tingle. So, he went faster, trying to coax it into a more confident conviction. Still nothing more. The phantom of a sensation began to disappear, taking a perturbed blonde's only chance of respite with it. Steve chased after it desperately. Clamping his eyes shut and speeding up his hips even more, causing Bucky to rock back and forth underneath him. Nothing. He reached for Bucky's hand and hastily shoved it down the front of his pants, gingerly guiding the brunette's fingers in the rhythm he happily discovered he liked two months ago.

When that failed too he yanked Bucky's hand out of his pants and tossed it aside. He sat stationary, with his head lowered, and his eyes still shut tight. Avoiding Bucky's stare because he knew what he would see in it. He took a few breaths before he felt the skin of Bucky's palm caress his cheek. Despite his hands being put through rigorous manual labor on a daily basis, their palms were surprisingly soft. It reminded Steve of how warm hearted Bucky could remain, despite the harsh times they were going through in the midst of The Great Depression.

"…Steven"

What Steve suspected was in the benevolent brunette's eyes, resonated clearly in Bucky's gentle voice as he murmured his lover's name. It inadvertently assaulted an already overwhelmed Steve, obliterating what little composure he had left.

The tiny blonde timidly opened his eyes and briefly met Bucky's, confirming their expression and he instantly broke down. He dropped his face into his palms. Tears that had built up behind his eye lids spilled down his cheek like waterfalls as he felt Bucky sit up and embrace him.

Not being one to willingly show 'weakness' to others, the headstrong blonde hadn't even cried at the funeral. Thinking he could shed his tears afterwards, alone. But they never came. It was almost like he'd buried his emotions with his mother. Or maybe it was like he was the one being buried. The coffin was his loneliness and the dirt his anguish. Trapping him in an air tight space as his sanity despairingly ran out, like depleting oxygen. Either way, he felt confined, claustrophobic, like everything was closing in on him, and he needed to be freed.

Tears were starting to leak through the cracks of his fingers as Bucky kept holding his sobbing body. The brunette felt a pair of skinny arms wriggle out of his embrace and slide over his shoulders. Squeezing them tightly as the red nosed blonde buried his face in the nape of his neck. They stayed like that until the collar of Bucky's shirt was drenched in Steve's salty tears and his frail arms shook from clutching Bucky's shoulders for so long. Steve forced his tightened chest and spasming diaphragm to steadily expand as he drew in the biggest breath his asthmatic lungs could take. This was the release that Steve had been yearning for, not the fleeting one he had made a sloppy attempt at only moments ago. Finally, his grip slackened allowing his knuckles to regain their color and he sat back on Bucky's thighs to give him a puffy eyed, red faced look.

He felt a little silly, he was never this forward with his emotions in front of other people. Whenever he was feeling bad, he'd always become withdrawn, and hide away. Which was a bit ironic, considering Steve had never been one to run away from a difficult situation, especially not a fight. He wasn't a coward. Even though he never had a chance of winning the brawl he still faced his opponent. Showing physical weakness to a stranger never bothered him but exhibiting emotional transparency, even to a loved one, had always terrified him. It was mainly because of the times they were living in. Society expected men to be the 'strong ones', and never show emotional vulnerability. This was the first time anyone had seen Steve naked. Not physically, but emotionally. He was utterly bare. He felt like an exposed nerve. Like for once, he was as emotionally defenseless as he was physically. But, he was glad that it was with Bucky… His loyal defender who had adamantly protected his body since childhood and now with just as much conviction, maybe even more, his heart.

Steve wrapped his right arm loosely around the back of Bucky's shoulders, pulling him back in. And rested his forehead against Bucky's, which felt cool in comparison to his hot one. He soon felt fingers take his left hand that was resting on the bed and caress it. Once his frantic palpitating heart had calmed down, he swung his leg off Bucky. Still holding onto him, Steve rolled onto his back and pulled the brunette on top of him.

Two more warm tears leaked from Steve's closed eyes, traveling down his temples and racing toward his ears. He felt them get wiped away as Bucky's hands cupped his face, swiping them with his thumbs. Steve stared through watery vision up at kind eyes that warmly gazed down at him. There were no remnants of pitying concern showing in them anymore, just a selfless will to help.

Steve lifted his head and erased the few inches of space between their mouths. It was just another peck, but it was still intimate. Slow and soft making Steve melt into the kiss as his back sunk into the mattress from Bucky's weight settling on top of him. Now, sandwiched between softness, as opposed to the over stimulant heat from earlier, Steve felt himself genuinely start to relax.

"What do you want me to do?" Bucky whispered when they're lips parted. Steve wrapped his other arm around his lover's shoulders.

"Can we just cuddle?" he whispered back. Bucky nodded before murmuring a gentle 'of course' and fully relaxed his body on top of Steve's.

"…Um, you can't be on top, you're to portly" Steve teased, murmuring his jest directly into Bucky's ear. His laugh though it was just a single huff, was music to Steve's ears. Obliterating what was left of the solemn atmosphere in the room.

"Yeah well, there are poodles that weigh more than you Stevie" Bucky retorted playfully. He rolled off his beloved, shifting onto his side so Steve could back his body into him.

They fit together like puzzle pieces. With Steve curled up in a relaxed fetal position and Bucky's knees tucked up behind Steve's bony ones as he wrapped an arm around his waist pulling him into his chest. Eliminating any unnecessary space between their bodies.

Exhausted from his weeks of insomnia Steve fell asleep almost instantly. Around 30 minutes later, Bucky's mind eventually became less lucid. His body felt light as he began to drift off into the idyllic utopia of sleep. A promise of a picturesque dreamscapes beckoned him from the recesses of his subconscious. Just as Bucky was settling into the delicate limbo between the dream world and the real world, a nagging thought jolted him out of his semi-conscious state.

His eyes shot open and he sat up slowly, making sure he didn't wake Steve who was faintly snoring, then crept out of the bedroom. Back in the kitchen, he peered into an empty pot whose water had completely evaporated. He looked over his shoulder in the direction of his sleeping boyfriend's bedroom and smiled adoringly before turning back to the abandoned ingredients on the counter.

…

Steve awoke later with a shiver. His half naked body involuntarily curled into a tighter ball as the frigid evening October air seeped in through the cheap apartment's walls. These walls are almost as thin as I am he thought with another shiver as the cold attacked his skin. He noticed a lack of body heat behind him and saw the empty space where Bucky should've been.

"Bucky?" he called groggily, rubbing his eyes and wrapping himself up in the bed's blankets. The very last essence of sunlight poured through his window, painting the room in a lowlight purple hue. He squinted at his watch, noting that he'd slept 2 hours past dinner time. The stove! He remembered and sprung himself out of bed in a panic. His bony heels clunked loudly onto the wooden floor and soon after, the rest of his underweight body which had gotten tangled up in the blanket. He wrestled with the fabric like it was a giant octopus that had trapped him in its tentacles, eventually prying himself free from it's grasp and running towards the kitchen. The smell of spaghetti sauce filled his nose before he even got there, causing him to slow his pace. Arriving at the door frame with a clumsy trot that was characteristic of a newborn pony walking for the first time. He smelled something else as he stared at Bucky, who had his back to him. Meatballs. Which didn't seem right. He couldn't afford meatballs for his pasta. He could barely afford the cheap sauce he set out earlier.

Bucky who was busy at the stove glanced over his shoulder at Steve and smiled tenderly.

"Come help me" he said, beckoning Steve with gentle eyes and a friendly head tilt.

Steve came up beside him and saw that his counter was no longer barren. An array of ingredients he definitely couldn't afford were spread out over it. Garlic cloves, some of which had been minced, parsley sprigs, a loaf of French bread, a type of cheese he didn't recognize, a few other things, and sure enough meatballs. They had freshly chopped parsley sprinkled over them.

"I stepped out for a minute" said Bucky stirring a pot of homemade pasta sauce "I hope you don't mind" he smiled at Steve who was staring at his colorfully decorated counter. Once he became aware that his mouth was agape in awe he snapped it shut and looked up at a grinning Bucky, who was clearly pleased with himself.

"Oh!" uttered Bucky. The spoon in his hand clattered loudly against the pot's side as he suddenly hurried out to the living room. He soon returned with a t-shirt. "I figured you'd forget something like this on your foreseeable rush out here"

Their fingers grazed as he handed the top to Steve whose smile was overflowing with gratitude and endearment.

"Wash up and help me make the garlic bread" Bucky instructed, directing his attention back to the simmering sauce. It seemed significantly less sweltering than Steve's overpowering gaze, which was making Bucky's face feel as hot as the stove. Steve noticed his boyfriend's pinkening cheeks nonetheless and smiled coquettishly as he scooted beside his blushing Bucky.

"You spent so much time over the hot stove" he teased, reaching a hand up to Bucky's face "All of that heat has gone to your face"

The bashful brunette chuckled self consciously as Steve's slender fingers stroked his burning cheeks. Steve loved flustering Bucky and quite frankly Bucky loved it too. He returned Steve's amorous gaze before Steve lowered his hand from Bucky's face. Then washed his hands in the nearby sink and snuggled up to Bucky as they made their banquet for two together. The small apartment not feeling so lonely anymore.