"Remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?" Steve commented sarcastically as the back hatch of the quinjet opened to the Siberian wilderness. Bright white light streamed as cold air rushed in nipping their ears and noses. Their breath condensed in puffy clouds about their heads.
"Was that the time you used our train money to buy … hotdogs?" Bucky grinned back knowing how hungry Steve always was back then.
"You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a red head." Steve was slightly disgusted. He did want the hot dogs, not some girl. Food never let him down, but plenty of women had back then.
"What was her name again?" Bucky squinted in thought, trying to place the girl.
"Dolores." Steve looked away, giving Bucky the side eye, "You called her Dot."
"She's gotta be 100 years old right now." Bucky remarked, slightly astonished as the thought hit him.
"So are we, pal." Steve reached out and gave Bucky shoulder friendly shake, looking at his best friend and his second chance. Bucky gave him a hesitant smile as the snow swirled about them.
Bucky laid on the rough concrete floor, his left arm missing. His head felt like the size of a blimp, ears ringing uncontrollably. In the fog of his mind, he heard Tony and Steve fighting, their punches and strikes like far away gongs wrapped in cotton.
Why were they fighting? He was confused. It was cold. But why were they there? Where were they exactly anyway? It was summer time in New York City. Rockaway Beach.
Dolores.
Red hair.
Hot dogs.
"C'mon, Steve!" Bucky pulled on the arm of his best friend, almost upending the smaller teen.
"Geeze Buck. Get off me!" Steve yanked away trying to gain his balance. The hotdog vendor was the other direction from where Barnes was trying to go. The aroma was killing him.
"She's there! Look at her." Bucky almost sighed, pointing across the crowded boardwalk as the cotton candy sellers, families and sailors moved like the ocean itself. The sound of a carousel was muffled by giggles of children and excited conversation.
"Who?" Steve strained on his tip toes over the taller crowd. All he saw were shoulders.
"The redhead. Gosh she is gorgeous." Bucky swooned.
"Don't be ridiculous. She's probably out of our league. I'm hungry. It's lunch." Steve remarked knowing that he'd never have a chance with a girl so why entertain the thought. His perpetually empty stomach asserted itself again.
Barnes swiveled his blue gaze at Steve for a moment and used his height over Rogers for emphasis, "No dame is out of my league." His pride almost burst out of his shirt seams.
Steve frowned and let out an impatient sigh.
"C'mon. Let's see what she's up to. Maybe she has a friend." Barnes's annoyance evaporated as he searched for her crimson hair in the crowd again.
"They never have 'a friend'. Maybe she can buy us lunch." Rogers groused and sluggishly followed behind, trying not to be trampled by the crowd in Bucky's wake.
She stood by the milk bottle game in a cute blue polka dotted dress that made her hair more vibrant in contrast. Waves of meticulously auburn curls cascaded down her shoulders, pinned on one side by a complimentary hair comb. White gloves held her purse as she watched the people take turns buying turns to knock down the milk bottles. There was a neat seam down the back of each shapely leg of her stockings that led to perfectly matched t-strap shoes. Barnes realized this gal was high class and that scared him some. His breath caught in his throat as he dusted himself off, straightening his shirt and belt, glad for once his mom made him wear something presentable. Rubbing the toes of his shoes on the back of his pant legs, he leaned over to Steve as he fixed his hair, "Watch and learn."
"Learn how you're going to make a fool of yourself? Sure, this should be very educational." Steve shot back. Bucky gave him a look. "Hey- before you trip over yourself, can I have my half of the money?"
"No." Bucky said and then turned away from Steve, straightening his shoulders. He was going for it. Steve crossed his arms over his bird chest and leaned against the fortuneteller's booth, just within ear shot.
Bucky strode over confidently, but subtly, sticking his hands into his trouser pockets, which always made his shoulders look bigger and more impressive. "Hello." he said.
Steve snorted. What kind of introduction is that?
The redhead turned to Bucky and melted him into a pool of male goo with her stunning green eyes. Even Steve stared, mouth slightly open. Wow, she was out of their league.
"Do I know you?" the girl replied with a playful red lipped smile.
"Well, now I guess you do, since we're talking." Bucky poured on his charm smile like syrup over pancakes, "James Barnes. Friends call me Bucky." He offered her a hand.
"Dolores." She returned with her white gloved one.
"Mind if I call you Dot?" Barnes said flirtatiously as he gently shook her hand and then released.
Dolores looked at him from under her long eyelashes and replied, "I suppose that wouldn't hurt… Bucky."
Steve watched Barnes become intoxicated by her presence and rolled his eyes adjusting his lean on the wall as the rough wood poked him with splinters through his thin cotton button-down.
"Not to be forward, but are you here alone?" Bucky pursued.
"Well, not any more since we're talking." She bantered back. Bucky almost fell over, charmed by her allure.
"That would seem to be the case, wouldn't it?" Barnes tried to be smooth as silk, attempting to reach around her shoulder to block Steve's view.
Steve coughed. He wasn't going to let Bucky forget him.
Dolores looked in the direction of the sound and a small crease appeared between her eyes, "Is he a friend of yours?"
Barnes glanced angrily over at Steve who untucked a hand and waved a bony arm in their direction, a sparkle of rascal in his eye. As Dot's eyes roved over him, Rogers nervously ran a hand through his hair.
"Well, yes." Bucky kept it simple.
"Introduce me!" Dolores said as if Steve were an adorable puppy.
Barnes impatiently waved a 'hurry up' to Rogers. Steve righted himself from the wall and took his sweet time crossing the boardwalk. A family on bicycles almost ran him over in the process. Bucky shook his head sadly as he watched Steve get spun around by the swirl of handlebars.
When Steve reached them, Bucky hastily said, "Dot, this is my friend Steve." Steve nodded in her direction but Dolores offered him a gloved hand.
"Pleased to meet you." She said sweetly as Steve reluctantly shook her hand, his cheeks coloring at the touch and the fact she was able to see the top of his head.
"Yeah. So where were we?" Bucky turned Dolores's attention back to him.
She looked at the two wildly dissimilar teens and smiled making both their knees weak, "I think we were determining if we were all alone. I think that question is fully answered."
"Well, we could be more alone." Barnes offered, hoping the hint would be taken by both of them.
"And that would be rude to exclude your friend, wouldn't it?" Dolores declared, "I usually have my friend, Katie, with me but not today. She'd make us a foursome."
"Wow, for once she does have a friend." Steve commented under his breath. Bucky stepped on his shoe making Steve flinch.
Dot chuckled, "You two are just adorable." Bucky grinned like an idiot at her assessment. Steve stood uncomfortably in the awkward threesome they had become.
"Tell you what. "Dot said in a conspiratorial tone, green eyes flashing mischievously, "First one two win me a bear, I'll give you my number."
Bucky's hand shot into his pocket producing a dollar. Steve warned, "Buck, that's part of our lunch and train money home. And we don't even have a phone. Unless you want everyone to hear your business at the end of the hallway in the apartment."
Barnes looked down at Steve, "No worries! Who's the best pitcher on our streetball team. Me."
"You know those things are rigged, right?" Steve attempted to reason with him. He felt the knot of hunger complain in his stomach.
"Nothing my fastball can't fix!" Barnes declared. Dolores clapped her gloved hands in delight. Rogers saw where this was headed, like watching old Keystone Cops movie reels when he was little: a complete disaster.
Bucky sauntered up to the counter and placed the dollar on the wood. "Ten chances, please. But you know, it will only take one. You can keep the change, my good man after I win for the lovely lady." Dot giggled, Steve almost puked.
The busker behind the counter looked Barnes up and down, his cigar gripped in his yellow teeth the smoke haloing around him. Shoving his cap back on his balding head, he laughed, "Sure buddy. Whatever ya'say." He gave Bucky ten baseballs and racked up the bottles in a pyramid. "Give'er your best shot."
Bucky picked up the bruised baseball, examining it closely with an expression of concentration. Expertly, he gripped the ball over the stained red stitches and wound up as if he was a pitcher for the Brooklyn Dodgers. "Here's Van Mungo, ready with a fastball!"
"More like Bob Barr." Steve commented dryly. The busker snorted a laugh.
The ball flew with force, straight and true, at the center of the milk bottles. They tilted and wobbled, but none fell down. Barnes's mouth hung open in disbelief.
"See. I told you they were rigged." Rogers chided.
Bucky set his jaw and gave a furious look at Steve then a gentle one to Dolores, "Just warming up. Didn't want to make it too easy for me, right old timer?"
"Sure kid." The busker returned adjusting his cigar and watching Barnes pickup another baseball.
He hurled it as a fastball again, aim true but no prize.
Steve chuckled softly. Bucky scowled.
"Curve ball. Here we go." Barnes adjusted his grip on the stitching and wound up letting it fly. The ball looked like it was going out and then took an abrupt left turn hitting the side of the pyramid. No luck.
"Ready to go eat lunch?" Steve offered. There were still two dollars in Bucky's pocket and seventy cents of baseballs in front of Barnes.
"No." Barnes returned and then looked handsomely at Dolores, who began to look bored.
"How about letting your friend throw?" she asked. The busker coughed on his laugh.
"Not right now, Dot. I have this under control. I bet," he picked up another ball and held it towards her coyly, "That it just needs some luck from a beautiful lady."
Dolores batted her eyes and blew a kiss toward the dirty ball. Bucky gripped it tightly as if she had kissed him herself.
The pitch came. No prize.
Steve could say two things about Barnes from their years of friendship: one, he was protective of Steve to the point of being annoying and two, his temper was hard to rouse, but once it did, even the Devil better watch out.
Steve saw the red creeping into his friend's eyes. Those bottles would regret the day they were taken from the dairy to serve in the boardwalk carnival. With almost supreme rage, Bucky threw the rest of the balls on the table. Each one glanced off harmlessly. His carefully coifed hair began to come undone into a floppy brunette mess. Sweat began to stain his shirt and the tail came untucked from his trousers. The top button popped off exposing his undershirt.
Rogers watched all this with barely concealed amusement not seeing Bucky slap down the other two dollars for more chances. Dolores became horrified at the spectacle.
Finally, with the last pitch, the top bottle clattered to the ground, but the rest stayed in a truncated pyramid. Bucky was heaving breath having flung twenty balls in rapid succession. Sweat trickled down his face where his hair was plastered in wet strands. The armpits of his shirt were transparent with perspiration. His hands were red from gripping the ball too hard.
"And now we don't money for lunch. Or the train. Way to go, wingnut" Rogers observed crossly as he glanced at his pocket watch. It was about two o'clock.
"Dolores? Are you alright?" A much more mature masculine voice came out from the crowd. The owner of the voice wore a college sweater with the white NYU torch emblazoned on the front. The man was two of Barnes easily.
"Oh dear. Thank you! I'm fine. Just making friends here." Dolores said sweetly glad to finally see her bit of fun come to an end.
"Making friends? Or more like playing with the high schoolers? Again. You know that's cruel." the man asked casting a judging eye on Steve and the disheveled Barnes.
"Yep. Just a couple kids. No problems. Let's go. I'm hungry." Dolores wrapped her arm around the hugely muscular one of her date. "Nice to meet you, Bucky and Steve."
"Same to you, Dolores." Steve called after her, nodding. Bucky remained speechless trying to get his breath back.
"Kid, you need to learn som'thing." The busker leaned on his elbow over the table. The boys both looked him, "Never trust a redhead."
"Mister, please. We have no way to get home. Our Momma is going to kill us!" Steve pleaded with the last vehicle they saw readying to leave the boardwalk. The sun was edging down to the west. Every other car or truck they had seen in the last four hours had passed them both by as they stood on the roadside thumbs up in supplication.
"Well, you should have thought about that, before, eh?" The driver commented heaving up a wooden crate of empty coke bottles heading back for a wash and refill. The bottles clanked and rattled as he shoved them back.
"C'mon, sir. We're just two poor kids from Brooklyn. My pal here got snowed good by a redheaded dame and lost all our money at milk bottles." Steve begged and Bucky glared at him, "And I don't know if I can walk all that way with my asthma." Rogers threw in a cough for good measure.
The man stopped and looked at both pathetic looking teens, "Of course you wouldn't make it back to Brooklyn. It'd take you till midnight to walk that way! It's almost twenty miles from here. And dontcha know those games are rigged?"
Steve threw a 'I told you so' look at Barnes, who gave him an annoyed glare. "Yeah. That'd feel like a hundred to me." Steve put on a wheeze for emphasis. Bucky began to wonder when Rogers became such a good actor. Maybe he should hit on the gals and not him.
The delivery man looked at both of them and heaved a sigh. He had to take his shipment of bottles back to the warehouse, unload them and restock for tomorrow morning. The forecast was supposed to be hot. Great weather for selling sodas. He figured it wouldn't be too far out of the way to drop off these two vagabonds; after all, what guy hasn't lost money to a pretty dame?
With a reminiscing smile, he stuck his thumbs in his company coveralls and said gruffly, "Ok. In the back of the truck you two. But don't tell anyone. My boss would kill me if he knew I was using their truck to haul lovesick teens home."
"Oh thank you, sir! We really appreciate this. We do!" Steve smiled tried to clamber up into the truck. Barnes helped push his skinny backside up onto the deck and then expertly hopped in, his shirt fully untucked and dust stained. Bucky's swept back hair was a tangled mess and he looked hurt.
"I'm leaving the tailgate down for you two. Dontcha let any any of those bottles fall out. And you don't fall out either." The delivery man warned in a fatherly tone. Steve gave him a smart salute as Bucky sulked.
The model A engine rumbled to life as the sheaf springs and chassis creaked under their burden. The wood walls of the truck swayed and squeaked rhythmically as they rolled away from Rockaway Beach with the sun beginning to paint a beautiful sunset, red as Dolores's hair.
After a few miles, Steve nudged Bucky in the arm, "Hey. It's ok. You didn't know she was playing you."
Bucky snorted derisively glaring at his knees, "I shoulda seen it coming. No dame looks that good and is our age."
"You have expensive taste." Rogers replied grinning.
Bucky looked up and around him in the truck, "Yeah. See how we're getting home? High style here. And you must be starving. I'm sorry. " Barnes looked guilty that Steve hadn't eaten all day. Of all people, Rogers couldn't afford to lose weight.
Steve ignored Bucky's self-imposed guilt trip. "At least it's not a dairy truck. Those smell." Steve commented noting that the residual chill of truck was starting to permeate his thin body.
"Well this one is sticky." Bucky rubbed his fingers together as the dried coke syrup stuck to him. Barnes's sharp eyes began to catch the subtle shivers of Steve. "C'mer you punk." He threw an arm around Rogers to give him some warmth. If he had a coat, he'd give it to him. "Momma would kill me three times over if she knew how I lost the money, got home after curfew AND got you pneumonia from a summer chill."
Steve relented and let Barnes put an arm around him, knowing he was only doing what a brother would; watch out for his sickly friend. "So now you you'll only be dead twice and me once."
"Better than dying alone." Bucky grinned down at his buddy and ruffled his hair. The truck rumbled on into the night.
Die alone.
Die.
Alone.
Die. Cold.
Steve dying in the cold. Stop Steve from dying alone in the cold.
Bucky's head began to clear on the freezing floor. There was no real pain from his missing bionic arm, but he was still in shock, blood leaking out of his mouth and nose. Sounds were clarifying in his head and suddenly he looked over seeing red. Red armor, cold. A red head. Shiny red armor.
Tony standing above a wounded Steve about to blast Rogers to bits.
With the last of his energy and a great heave, he rolled over and grabbed Stark's boot throwing him off balance.
He helped. Steve wouldn't die alone in the cold.
A/N... the pitchers mentioned are really from the Brooklyn Dodgers roster in 1935. Steve would be 17 and Bucky 18. Also- it was uncommon for people to have personal phones in their residences unless they were very wealthy. Some buildings had a 'common phone' at the end of the hallway where everyone could use it and hear everything.