His arms aching, Bucky Barnes cleared his throat and straightened them out resolutely, keeping them beneath him and supporting his full body weight as they had been for what felt like hours. Half a dozen boys- nearly every boy between the ages of ten and thirteen on his block – were huddled around in a loose circle watching him and the one boy that remained. All others that had competed in the hand-stand competition had fallen out early, some growing sick from all the blood rushing to their heads and one boy even passing out and needing to be carried home.
Many of those left in attendance grumbled irately, wondering why they had bothered to ask Bucky to play in the first place. Barnes was by far the most athletic of the rough and tumble group of kids and he was always up to win at something. When he'd heard that Saul Jacobs held the record for the longest hand-stand on the block, he of course had to break it. Saul's record was twenty some odd minutes, but he had had the support of a brick wall behind his heals the entire time. Currently at twenty minutes even, Bucky was only just beginning to wonder if maybe he should have leaned against a building as well. The boys that had stood up today had declared that if Bucky Barnes didn't need support then neither did they, which was why it had only been Bucky and Finn Hammond for the last fifteen minutes.
Finn was a year older than Bucky at fourteen, but the two were about the same size, and currently the sweat from Finn's brow was beginning to shape a pretty decent sized puddle beneath his head. While at first the two boys had been throwing light hearted jabs back and forth, now they were silent, each focused entirely on staying upright. Their legs wobbled this way and that, and every few moments, one of them would have to scurry forward on weak, dirty hands to keep from toppling over. The contest had begun in an alley just beneath Saul's window, but now with all the scrambling to stay up, the entire group had inched out onto the main sidewalk. Luckily it was rounding midnight, so no adults were around to yell at them for getting in the way.
"Finn isn't even shaking," Bucky heard Paul Daniels whisper. He had decided not to participate at all, preferring to watch and not risk falling down into one of the many filthy puddles the others had hand-walked through.
"We're gonna be here all night," Harry Mills muttered back, still nursing the bloody nose he had gotten when he'd fallen on his face earlier, officially costing him the competition. "We shouldn't have asked Barnes to play, he makes us all look like crap."
Bucky spared a quivering smile since Harry usually had nothing but bad things to say to him.
"It wasn't my idea!" Paul hissed. "It's Sebastian's fault. He's the one that told Rogers-"
"Shut-up will you!" Saul called angrily over his shoulder from where he was hunched next to Bucky, his father's watch held directly under his nose. "Six minutes and they're both gonna have my record beat." He turned back around to watch the soon-to-be champions in fascination and a tiny bit of contempt. Bucky met the boy's eyes and smiled slightly. Finn was biting his lip beside him, looking constipated.
"How ya doin', Barnes?" Harry called. Bucky opened his mouth to answer, but had to pause as he shuffled a few inches to the left, his hands following the momentum of his wobbling legs. When he was sure he was steady again, he frowned up-side-down at Mills.
"My arms are tired," he huffed honestly, unfazed by his near loss. He heard Finn curse lowly beside him.
With a small scuffle of flesh on concrete and shoes hurrying to move out of the way, Finn fell forward, landing with a pained groan on his back. A few of the others cursed and handed over coins to the ones that were now dancing the happy jig of winning a bet.
"Bucky wins!" Sebastian, the youngest of them at twelve, cried happily, being quickly shushed by the other boys as they checked to make sure no stoop lights came on. It was pitch black on the street. Bucky straightened out again.
"He still hasn't set the new record yet, genius," Saul snapped without taking his eyes off Bucky.
"But you know he's going to, and if we don't clear out soon Mrs. Rogers is gonna catch us and you know she doesn't like when we're out late."
"That's only because she doesn't want Steve tagging along with us, but knows he always tries," Harry said off-handedly, checking his handkerchief again to see if the blood had stopped flowing from his nose. It hadn't.
"I don't know why that pip-squeak tries to come anywhere anyways," Finn huffed, now upright and wiping the dirt from his pants. Harry snorted a laugh of agreement, wincing when his nose throbbed in pain.
"Yeah," Saul commented, eyes still dancing between Bucky and his watch, "Rogers is too much of a wimp to be able to do anything anyway."
"Shut-up," Bucky hissed through gritted teeth, nearly losing balance as he tried to fix Saul with an icy glare. The other boy avoided his gaze, casting glances at the others who all mumbled short apologies under their breath except for Finn who just rolled his eyes. They all knew Bucky had Steve's back even when the small boy wasn't around. It was common knowledge on the street that anyone that messed with Rogers would have to deal with Barnes sooner rather than later and no one in their age group was interested in that.
When they all had grown silent again, Bucky shut his eyes, starting to feel dizzy from being upside down so long. Looking into the darkness of his eyelids, he conjured up a mental picture of his best friend and unofficial charge. A familiar warmth spread throughout his stomach as the image of Steve laughing animatedly and drawing in his sketchbook took form. Steve Rogers was only a few weeks younger than Bucky, but he looked as if he could be just approaching ten. He was rail thin and short to boot, but somehow had managed to store within him the courage of a boy six times his size. He was heartbreakingly good and stupidly brave which meant that even though he could have coasted through life generally unnoticed, more often than not he was on the wrong side of an angry fist. Or rather, Bucky was once he jumped in front of Steve.
Bucky couldn't stand to see Steve hurt. Every time he got a bloody nose or a black eye, not only did Barnes have to deal with the stressed look Mrs. Rogers sported for days, but he also had to deal with his own self-hatred. Seeing Steve hurt was torture what with his big blue eyes and straw blonde hair that was always matted down with sweat after only a few minutes of a brisk walk…
"Three minutes," Saul announced, looking down at his watch.
The group broke out into grumbles again, and suddenly the warmth in Bucky's stomach turned to a piercing dread. What if Steve was in trouble? What if he had snuck out again, eager to join the rest of boys in their fun. It wasn't unheard of; Steve always wanted to be included, even though more often than not he was used as the butt of the jokes. What if he had gotten lost on the dark Brooklyn street, or fallen into an asthma attack along the way from the cold weather? He wouldn't have anyone there to rub his back or help him breathe through it. Not until it was far too late.
Bucky felt his body give a sudden, sharp jerk. It lessened into shivers that manifested in his arms which tried to keep him upright despite all his movement. Steve could be in trouble and the mere thought had almost ripped him from his spot.
"Don't lose it now, Bucky!" Sebastian shouted. "You're only two minutes away from beating Saul's record!"
"Be quiet," Paul implored.
But something in Bucky told him to drop down off his hands and go to Steve. It was only a short walk from here to the Rogers' building and Steve was on the first floor, his window facing out into the street. It wouldn't take long for him to go and check to make sure Steve was tucked into bed like he should be, sleeping soundly until his mom walked home from work.
This is a stupid game anyhow, he reminded himself. He didn't need to prove himself by standing on his hands in the dirty street in the middle of the night like the other boys did. Two minutes, though, he thought. Two minutes and I'll beat Saul Jacobs.
Still, something told him to run to Steve. There was nothing he wanted more than to have him next to him, to feel his hand in his even though Steve always complained Bucky didn't need to hold his hand through life, or take care of him when he was sick, or any of it. Bucky knew that. He knew that if God had blessed Steve with a healthy body, there wouldn't be anything he couldn't do. He did everything he did because he knew being with Steve and looking after him was good for him. He needed Steve. With Steve around, Bucky knew he could do this hand stand long into the morning, arms never getting tired as long as Steve sat beside him, keeping him company and waxing poetic about all the things they would be able to do when they were older.
Bucky thought often about how the way he felt about Steve wasn't the normal way friends felt about each other. He didn't know if he knew anyone, kid or adult, that felt for someone how he felt for Steve. It was bone deep and until the end of the line, which was why imagining Steve, gasping and cold and alone in some alley down the way was terrifying enough for Bucky to squeeze his eyes shut and curse lowly. His arms shook dangerously.
"One minute," Saul announced, defeat already set into his tone. "I can't believe this."
The yowl of a cat made all in attendance jump as it streaked across the empty street, disappearing into the shadows. Many of them were now starting to realize they should be home and in bed lest they want their hides tanned later on, but none wanted to miss street history being made. Bucky felt his arms tremble and not just from hoisting up over a hundred pounds of preteen for nearly half an hour. The picture of Steve dead and breathless was still with him and as he shuffled a few inches to the right he realized he was scared. Not of losing, or of being found out by Mrs. Rogers on her way home from the hospital, but of something happening to Steve. The very thought terrified him and he wasn't sure if he had really been scared of anything before this.
"Thirty seconds," Saul said, his voice breaking sharply through the silence. The other boys had quieted and were watching in awe as the legend of Bucky Barnes got even more incredible.
"How do you do it, Bucky?" Paul asked, reverence in his voice. "You were completely solid until a second ago. Saul was dripping sweat by this point." The others, minus Saul, nodded.
"I'm not as fat as Saul," Bucky joked, trying to hide his exhaustion and illogical fear behind bravado and snark. They all, minus Saul, chuckled at this.
Saul began a paced, heavy hearted countdown: "Ten seconds, nine seconds…"
Steve may need me, Bucky worried. He noticed that his heart had begun to beat rapidly. I should run to him.
"-Two, one! You did it, Bucky!" Sebastian screeched from where he had taken up the countdown over Saul's shoulder. The two jumped to their feet, the others quickly gathering around them on the sidewalk. "That's amazing, Buck! You-"
Bucky threw himself down, crashing bodily into a trash can, the racket creating such a panic amongst their group that Harry and Paul immediately booked it in the direction of their own building, leaving the others behind crowding Bucky as he struggled to stand.
"What's the matter with you, Barnes?" Finn hissed, "Are you trying to wake up the whole neighborhood?"
Bucky didn't answer, dropping rushed goodbyes to the others as he raced off towards Steve's building inwardly praying that his friend hadn't left his bed tonight. Sebastian chased after him once he'd said goodbye to the rest, his building in the same direction. Bucky set a grueling pace, his lead weight arms still managing to pump at his sides as he ran, ignoring Sebastian's many questions as to why he was running away from his own home.
He ran as fast as he was able, tattered shoes smacking the pavement until he was right in front of Steve's building. He nearly tripped as he hopped onto the sidewalk, but righted himself and jogged up to his friend's window. The fear twisting in his gut hadn't left him yet. His need to see Steve was absolutely urgent and he could feel genuine anxiety swelling up in his chest as he went on tip toe to look in through the dusty glass.
And there Steve was. Sleeping soundly if not nosily as he wheezed the night away, the smell of vapor rub apparent even with the window closed. The tension drained out of him and left Bucky feeling foolish and slightly dizzy. He turned and leant his back against the side of the building sliding down to his bottom and drawing his knees up to his chest. He could feel that his eyes were wide and nearly crazed as he raised a hand to push his damp hair away from his forehead. His hand was shaking.
"Bucky…" Sebastian panted, only catching up now that his friend was stationary. "What's wrong?" His hazel eyes were bright with excitement but looked concerned at his friend's speedy exit.
Bucky opened his mouth slightly, but snapped it closed again when the right words did not come immediately. Instead he just shook his head at the younger boy, silently conveying that he wasn't up to talk about it. Sebastian looked into the window as well before sliding down to sit beside him
"So…" Sebastian gasped slightly, still out of breath from his sprint, "You rushed off to check on Rogers?"
Bucky wondered if he should explain what had just happened, knowing that this made absolutely no sense from an outside point of view. Casting a sidelong look at Sebastian, he remembered that this boy had never said a bad thing about Steve and was always willing to let the smaller boy tag along, claiming to sincerely enjoy his company. He was probably the closest thing Steve had to a friend outside of Bucky, and for that Bucky decided he could be trusted. "I thought maybe…Steve had snuck out to come with us again," he explained slowly, rubbing his grimy hands together. "I wanted to make sure he was alright."
After a moment of confused pondering, Sebastian Evans' eyes widened and he glanced upwards at the window again. He seemed to catch on to some unspoken admission Bucky wasn't even sure he had made and nodded his head slowly.
"Steve's a pretty great guy," he offered, folding his hands over his own knees as Bucky nodded shakily, suddenly feeling very exposed with Sebastian there. He wasn't sure, but it felt like he had just fessed up to being sweet on his best friend. At least that's how Sebastian made it felt as he knocked their shoulders together. "He's lucky you're around."
"I'm the lucky one," the young Brooklyn boy said without thinking. Sebastian nodded and asked how Bucky felt. "My arms hurt," he answered quietly. His pulse had returned to normal and his breathing was back under his control, but he still felt shaken. Tonight was not something he wanted to repeat. It had left him nervous and embarrassed, and Sebastian sensed this.
"You don't have to worry," he offered, "I won't tell the other guys you got scared for Rogers." Bucky flinched, not wanting the word 'scared' to be associated with his name, but Sebastian just smiled. "You should be happy. You set a new record tonight and no other kid on the block will probably ever break it. And you saw for yourself Steve's fine so there's nothing to worry about."
Taking all this in, Bucky had to agree with the younger boy, especially on the part about Steve. Looking over shyly, he nodded, a smile barely gracing his lips. "Thank you." Sebastian nodded.
"Well, I better be getting home," he said finally, hopping to his feet and helping Bucky up as well once he saw him wince trying to push himself up. "Want me to walk ya to the corner?" Bucky's home was in the opposite direction and around a curve.
Bucky would have said no regardless (it wouldn't be right to make the younger boy spend more time out this late than what was needed to walk himself across the street into his own building now), but he glanced quickly between the window and Sebastian a few times before the other boy caught on. With a knowing yet still secretive smile, he slapped Bucky on the shoulder and stepped into the street.
"See ya later, Bucky," he said with a wave, jogging to his own stoop as Bucky stifled a laugh.
He waited until his younger friend was safely inside before turning to Steve's window again. Lifting the sill as high as his arms allowed, he hopped onto the edge and dragged himself in. Like every other night he had done this, Steve didn't stir as his friend grunted and groaned his way into his room. Bucky always warned him he needed to lock the window before he went to bed, but Steve reasoned that would only be locking Bucky out.
Kicking off his shoes, Bucky paced around to the side of the bed nearest the door and slipped in behind Steve, making sure the covers remained tucked around his frail body. As the bed dipped and whined, the smaller boy yawned, eyes blinking blearily as an arm fell over his waist.
"Bucky?" he murmured, half unconscious and already aware of the answer. This was so common for the two of them, it was a wonder they didn't just live together.
"Go back to sleep, Steve," Bucky breathed, all but cuddling into his best friend as he repositioned them both so they could fit on the tiny bed. Steve huffed, fighting exhaustion as his lungs fought a tougher battle to keep him breathing.
"How was the contest?" Steve asked, not fussing as Bucky reached around to message the vapor rub further against his chest. He coughed.
"Set a new record," Bucky informed, pulling his hand back once he was sure the ointment was spread evenly across the whole of his friend's chest. Steve huffed out a laugh, curling in on himself and pushing back into the warmth of Bucky.
"I knew you would," he yawned, still managing to sound proud as he was dragged down into sleep once more.
"Wish you could've been there," Bucky whispered in the blonde tresses brushing against his face. Steve's only reply was heavy breathing, and as Bucky listened to make sure it continued, he realized how much he loved Steve. It was a strange realization, and he felt himself blushing in the dark as he pulled his pint sized friend closer against his chest. "Night, Steve."
It'd be a few years yet before Bucky Barnes realized just what kind of love he felt for Steve Rogers, but for that night, it was enough to know that it was more than that of a childhood friend. Why else would he have been so afraid?