Hi guys, it's Rotmeister! Not much to say here, but if you could drop a critique it could help improve my writing! Enjoy!

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The old ice cream shop at the corner of the street had been there as long as Steve could remember. The worn brick building, much more weathered since the last time he had seen it, still housed a warm atmosphere that reminded him of home. The large window at the front that held a faded insignia on the glass, reading "Fresh Dairy and Delicious Flavors since 1933!", still looked in at a room painted a light yellow with tables that seated two.

Steve gazed through the window again, the familiar feeling of nostalgia growing. Was the ice cream here as good as he remembered? Well, there was only one way to find out.

A small bell rang as the door opened, causing Steve to give a small smile. He looked around. There were some changes– how the ice cream was kept cold, the new machinery– but everything still felt overwhelmingly familiar, as though he had been there a million times before. And he had. He couldn't recall the amount of times each summer that he and Bucky would pool their allowances and come down to get themselves ice cream cones. It seemed that every inch of the place held some fond memory. That was the table where he and Bucky spent their second playdate, still learning about each other and using their frozen treats as the perfect opportunity to ask about favorite foods. Those bathrooms were where they had hidden after one of their, well, mostly Bucky's, pranks went awry. And the counter–

"Sir?" Steve blinked. Had somebody… "Can I help you, sir?" Ah, it was the lady at the counter. Steve smiled an apology and moved forward the the counter. "Can I help you, sir?" she repeated. "Yeah, can I get two scoops of chocolate?" Steve replied.

"Cup or cone?"

"Oh, uh, cone please."

As the lady behind the counter went off to make his order, Steve rooted through his backpack to find his wallet. If anything had changed about this place, the prices had sure gone up.

The lady returned with his ice cream as Steve found his wallet. He paid, then made his way to a sunny spot at a table in front of the window. Sitting in the chair facing the door, he slung his backpack under the table and began to lick his ice cream, staring out the window. How long had it been since he'd done this? His own internal sense of time said that it had only been a few years since he'd signed up for the war, but it was hard to ignore the major changes since he'd last been in this position. The buildings he could see were different, the cars and roads he could see were different, the people he could see were different…

Speaking of people, one person crossing the street caught his eye. The man was wearing a long sleeved hoodie and pants, strange for the nice warm weather. His hands were in his hoodie pockets, and his head was down. What Steve could see of the man's face, though, made him look twice.

The man looked a bit like Bucky had last time Steve had seen him.

Steve shook his head. All the fond memories of his childhood friend were getting to him. There was no way that guy was Bucky.

Still, though, Steve continued to watch him as he finished crossing the street and entered the ice cream shop.

The small bell above the door rang as the man entered and looked around. The lady behind the counter called out to him, and he gazed in her direction, looking slightly lost. With the man closer up, Steve could make out more of him, how haggard he looked, how long his dark hair was, how guarded his eyes were.

The man made an indication to the lady behind the counter that he didn't have any money, and Steve caught a flash of metal in his pocket. Without his enhanced sight, Steve might have thought that it was a knife. He could tell that it wasn't a knife. But if it wasn't a knife, then…

Steve's eye's widened.

He quickly snatched his wallet and walked up to the counter. "Excuse me, miss," he said, "but I can pay for whatever this man orders."

The lady didn't say anything, she just nodded. Bucky– if that was really who the man was– looked at Steve. If he was surprised at Steve's presence, it didn't show on his face.

Bucky(?) quietly ordered two scoops of pecan pie ice cream. Steve paid and led him back to the table by the window. Sitting down, Steve focused on the man across from him. Bucky(?) was looking better; he looked healthier, a little more like himself.

But was it really him?

"…Bucky?"

The man, who had been focused on his ice cream, looked up and nodded, his head still down. He didn't say anything.

"How are you? Are you doing okay?"

"…M'fine."

The word was low, uttered in a scratchy and nearly unrecognizable voice, but the simple phrase brought a smile to Steve's face. The smile waned a bit, however, when he realized that the task of reconnecting with his childhood friend would include bringing up the awkward subject of Bucky's memory loss.

"So…" Steve began, "Why'd you come down to this place?"

No response.

"Was it because of… memories?"

Again, no response, except the smallest movement of Bucky's head. Steve chuckled and smiled.

"Well, this place sure does have a lot of good memories attached to it. Do you remember any?"

"…Some."

Steve's smile widened. "That's great! Do you remember that grouchy old man, Mr. O'Neil? He was always complaining about us for some reason or another. Well, mostly you, but you were always pulling pranks on the old man. Remember that one prank, when you covered every inch of his yard with insulting signs? You found the most creative places to hide some of them, too. The old geezer was still finding those things for a month after! Or do you remember that one time…"

And so Steve found himself spending the entire afternoon in the little ice cream shop, talking with Bucky about some of their greatest adventures. Really, Steve was more talking at Bucky, the latter being content to listen, and the former being content to talk. They spent hours like that, Steve giving a constant stream of stories and ice cream cones and Bucky giving a few one-word responses here and there. Until, finally, the sun set, and Steve decided it was time he left.

"I've gotta go." He said. "It was great seeing you though. Maybe we can talk again soon."

He grabbed his bag and stood up, moving toward the door. "See you next time." he said.

"Yeah," replied a gravely voice behind him. Steve turned, surprised. Bucky was looking at him and smiling, an actual, honest, happy smile. "See you next time."

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Rotmeister: Hope you enjoyed, and please drop a comment if you liked it! Me and my friends do requests as well, so if you have a request, drop it in a review. See ya!