"Bucky, are you smoking?" Steve stared in disbelief at the cigarette dangling from Bucky's lips. Bucky turned and took the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers, and chuckled.
"Trying to quit actually," he said as a smile started to cross his face. He lifted the cigarette back to his lips and let it stay there, unlit. He dug into his pocket and produced a small package of matches, "See? Unlit. I haven't been smoking for a week."
"A week?" Steve cocked his head, still staring at his friend, "When in the hell did you start smoking?"
"Couple months. And when did Steve Rogers start swearing?" Bucky replied, his words slightly muffled by the cigarette.
Steve set his jaw, "When he found out that his dick friend is a smoker."
Bucky raised an eyebrow and took the cigarette out of his mouth and placed it into his shirt pocket. He put his hand on Steve's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "You know," he said, "I'm not that big of a dick. If I truly were a dick, I would smoke in front of my asthmatic friend and let him breathe in the toxins. But I don't."
Steve lifted his arm and shoved Bucky's off of his shoulder, "You're still a dick. Those things kill you. I thought you weren't that stupid." He sighed and turned. They stood under an overhang near Bucky's apartment, they sky was darkening.
They stood in silence for a minute listening to the traffic as it passed by.
"So can war, you know?" Bucky's voice broke the silence.
The rain started slowly. Steve turned, his head tilting upwards to look at Bucky.
Bucky was looking out into the rain before he spoke, "You must wonder," he started, "why I'm always protecting you. Why I'm always there to punch the jackass who punched you first." He pulled the cigarette out of his shirt pocket and rolled it in between his two fingers. "It's because you're the only thing I want to protect in this goddamned world."
It was quiet again.
Silence.
And more silence.
And then,
"We should probably go inside."
It was cold in his apartment, which forced them to sit together. Bucky had turned on the radio, letting it play softly. It didn't help break the silence between them. Steve sat with his head tilted back, resting on the couch. Bucky sat with his hands ringing, stealing side glances at Steve when he could.
Bucky cleared his throat and spoke, "I'm sorry for being a dick." Steve chuckled in response. "Was that you accepting the apology?"
Steve turned finally, "That was me laughing. Fairly obvious. But yes, I guess I accept your half-hearted apology." Bucky broke into a smile and pushed Steve's shoulder gently, "I do have a question though."
"And what would that be?"
"Where are all the ashtrays?"
Bucky laughed again, "I smoked outside, I think that if I smoked inside I'd smell like a walking ashtray."
The song on the radio had changed. And Steve's smile faded.
"Buck?"
"Yeah?"
"What the hell are we gonna do?"
"What do you mean?"
"The war."
Bucky turned and faced Steve. Steve's features looked tired, dragged down. Bucky raised his arm and put it around Steve's shoulders, "What do you want to do?" Steve looked up at him, his eyebrows pulling in.
"You know what I want to do. But I just don't want to have to keep lying to do it."
Bucky let out a sigh, "How long have we known each other?"
"Why are yo-"
Bucky cut him off, "Just answer it."
"Since we were kids."
"Right. And I know you well enough to say that you're better than half the men in that damn army. And I'm gonna help you get in. But that doesn't mean I like the idea it." Bucky's tone was serious, and his grip on Steve's shoulder was tight, "And in my eyes," he said, making Steve look at him directly, "you're still just a kid."
