This chapter is twice as long as the first chapter, but the next chapter is about half as long, so I suppose it all evens out. ;) Thanks for all of the support on both sites - hope you enjoy this chapter, too!

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4. March 1942 – The Time He Asked

After the first time, it was a lot easier for Bucky to see when Steve felt that he needed punishment in form of a spanking. Every time, Bucky tried to talk him out of it, assure him he needed no punishment and that whatever he thought was his fault wasn't, but inevitably he would end up over Bucky's lap. Bucky hated to see him in pain, but he wasn't going to deny his best friend what he felt he needed.

But Steve had never explicitly asked for punishment before. That seemed to be lowering himself a bit too much for his liking, so he just acted out in a way that screamed "Please do something about this – please help me, notice me, show me that you know me enough to know what I need." After some time of this, Bucky had figured out just what Steve wanted – needed – and when.

After the United States officially declared itself a part of the war, he could see the need building up in Steve. Not the need for punishment, but the need to be a part of this, of serving his country. He worried for Steve's health, but more than that, he worried for his emotional state when he inevitably signed up and was disqualified for said health reasons.

When that day came however, Bucky was surprised that Steve hadn't come home looking for a fight. He'd simply looked…sad. Not defeated, exactly, because there was still a fire of determination in his eyes, but there was a certain sense of brokenness he couldn't help displaying for all he tried to hide it.

Bucky pretended that nothing was wrong, as was usual. He gave Steve encouraging words, telling him that he didn't need to be a soldier to do his part for the country. He made spaghetti with extra sauce, even though they were running low, because it was just the way the smaller man liked it. Steve was quiet while they ate, not contributing much to the conversation, but Bucky didn't let it deter him, hoping that he could cheer him enough that Steve wouldn't feel the need to go over his knee.

After dinner and clean-up, Bucky went to the living room to read, expecting Steve to join him with his sketchbook like they usually did when they were home at the same time. Steve disappeared into the bedroom, presumably to get his drawing supplies, but after a couple of minutes Bucky began to wonder if the other man had just gone to bed.

It was just as he had made the decision to go and check on the blond that Steve reappeared in the living room, not holding his supplies as usual, but instead one of his worn leather belts. Feeling the tension increase in the room, Bucky set his book down, eyes flicking from Steve's face to the belt he was holding as the other approached.

Steve stopped in front of Bucky, and Bucky remained silent while he watched the emotions flicker across his friend's face. He looked awkward, a bit embarrassed, slightly afraid, but mostly determined, and after a long moment, he wordlessly held out the folded belt to the brunette on the couch.

"What do you want me to do with this, Stevie?" Bucky finally asked when Steve didn't say anything. His heart beat a fast tempo in his chest, hoping somewhat fruitlessly that Steve didn't mean…that.

"I need you to hit me with it," Steve said in a determined, low voice. His hands were clenched in fists at his sides, and his shoulders were bunched up around his ears.

Bucky felt his heart sink. "Why?" He didn't know how he managed to make his voice steady enough to get the word out.

"Why does it matter to you?" Steve snapped, more of his own personality finally leaking out of him as he was distracted from his apprehension. "Why can't you just hit me like normal and be done with it?"

"Spanking someone and abusing someone are two completely different things, Steve, and don't pretend you don't know that," Bucky scolded him. "And if I'm going to be taking a belt to you, I'd think I would have the right to know why you think such severe measures are necessary."

Steve remained defiant for several long moments, before his shoulders finally slumped and he admitted, "The recruiter said that I wouldn't last a day in training, let alone in the battlefield. Even without all of my sicknesses, I'm so skinny that if I got an injury I wouldn't be able to push through the pain enough to do any good to my comrades."

Bucky wanted to march down to the recruiter's office and kick a few asses right then, especially the ass of the man who had said such things to Steve. It made sense now why Steve would feel the need to prove himself with the pain that Bucky could give him, but he waited for Steve to explain that himself.

"I don't need the normal spanking," Steve said lowly, his face red. He'd always felt embarrassed to say the actual word or talk about what they did in such frank terms. "Kids get whacked all the time by their ma, and they're always just fine." Never mind that Steve got spankings a lot more severe, because he was an adult who could handle more. Bucky didn't say this, because Steve was still trying to get his explanation out.

"So, if you could…the belt, it will…not that I would tell the recruiter, but…at least to me…" Steve stuttered, clenching and unclenching his hands uncertainly as he stumbled over his explanation.

"You want me to belt you so that you can prove to yourself that you can take it?" Bucky clarified. Steve nodded fervently, expression relieved that Bucky understood.

Bucky watched Steve for several moments, trying to think of some way he could dissuade his friend from taking this route. Bucky had always thought that Steve was strong – stronger than anyone he'd ever known. The fact that it wasn't physical strength mattered not a whit to Bucky, because the brunette knew that he would never reach the level of goodness that Steve possessed without even trying. And it wasn't fair that Steve couldn't see that, that no one else would give Steve a chance for them to see that, only judging what Steve looked like on the outside rather than the amazing person that Bucky knew within.

And it was those bastards that were making Steve feel this need to prove himself now – if only to himself.

And that thought gave Bucky an idea.

"So, if I understand correctly," Bucky said, "You need to know that you would be able to survive in the war, even if the recruiters think otherwise." Steve nodded. "So logically, every person in the army should be able to take some pain, and this is the method you're choosing to prove it to yourself." Steve nodded again, and Bucky mused absently how normally Steve would recognize the plotting tone of voice in his best friend, but right now he was too nervous to notice anything outside of the actual words.

"Alright, then," Bucky accepted. "I'll belt you – on one condition."

Steve was finally beginning to look wary, catching on that his best friend had something planned. "What condition?" he asked cautiously.

"You're going to count every stroke out loud," Bucky instructed. "And when I'm done belting you, you're going to deal me the same amount of blows, with the same amount of strength I use on you."

"What?!" Steve squawked, eyes widening while he took an involuntary step back. "No! Why would…"

"I'll be joining the army too," Bucky cut across his protests with a calm he didn't exactly feel. "So shouldn't we be sure that I would be able to take some pain, too?"

"But I already know you'd be able to take it," Steve said exasperatedly.

"And I know you would," Bucky said firmly. "But that doesn't exactly convince you, does it?"

Steve's mouth opened and closed many times, fumbling for what to say. Bucky's expression softened slightly at the look of vulnerability not often visible in Steve, and he reached out, leaning forward to grab the blond's arm and maneuvering him over to sit next to him on the couch. He put his arm around the skinny shoulders and tugged him close to his side in an approximation of a hug.

"If for nothing else," Bucky murmured into his hair after a long moment, "I want to be certain that we're doing this safely. I don't want you to keep going past the point you can physically stand because you have something you need to prove to yourself. If you know that I'll be getting the exact same treatment, at least it will keep you from going too far."

"But this isn't the same way that you deal with a fucked-up head," Steve muttered. "It doesn't work the same way."

"No, it doesn't," Bucky agreed readily. "But if it was anyone else who was doing this for you, who didn't care as much about you as I do, I don't even want to think about how far you would let them go. You've always been particularly self-destructive, with a bit too much of a guilt complex for you to use your safe words if and when you need it."

"Bucky…" Steve said in a small voice, sounding vulnerable in a way that he hated appearing in front of anyone else.

"It's alright, Stevie," Bucky assured him. "I've had my ass whooped before, and I'll take as many licks as you need me to give you."

Steve hesitated for a long moment, before he finally nodded and held out the belt again. "Alright," he accepted unhappily. Bucky took the belt, folding it in half and holding it by the ends while Steve moved to bend over the arm of the couch. Bucky said nothing about the new location, correctly deducing that Steve wanted him to have a freer range of movement, so that the strokes would be harder. Taking this into account, Bucky picked up his book and tucked it under his arm to limit his range of movement, before stepping behind Steve.

Knowing that Steve would notice and not wanting to get into another argument – or worse, have Steve think that Bucky thought him weak – he didn't start off light, instead getting right into it. To his credit, Steve barely flinched at the forceful blow to his backside, fingers only tightening almost imperceptibly on the pillow he'd grabbed for support. But he remained silent after the strike, so Bucky paused with his arm upraised.

"Count, Steve," Bucky insisted. He knew that if he didn't do it out loud, Steve would try to get away with dealing him fewer blows when it was his turn.

A beat, and then Steve said in an even voice, "One."

Nodding to himself, Bucky let the belt fall again with a snap upon Steve's buttocks.

"Two," Steve went on obediently, so Bucky kept going.

By the time Steve got to "Fourteen," his voice strained as he tried to keep his voice even, and on "Twenty-three," his voice cracked with carefully held back tears. Bucky paused for the briefest moment there, but Steve wasn't calling it to a halt, so he reluctantly kept going.

It was at thirty-four when Steve finally said in a shaky voice, "That's enough." At the predetermined safe words, Bucky dropped his arm, immediately ceasing while Steve carefully straightened with a bitten-off hiss of discomfort at the movement.

As soon as he was standing, Bucky dropped the belt and set aside the book, going over to Steve and enfolding him in a hug. Steve's eyes were watery and red, but no tears had fallen, and Bucky marveled anew at how strong his best friend was. He knew that if he looked at the blond's backside, bruises would be blooming under the skin, and not just because he easily bruised.

"'M okay, Buck," Steve muttered, though he accepted the hug and returned it himself, squeezing tightly enough that the brunette knew he didn't want either of them to pull away just yet.

It was when he felt Steve's arms loosen just slightly that he finally pulled back. "My turn, Steve," he said resolutely. Steve's face fell, but he knew Bucky well enough by now that he didn't bother arguing any more. He bent down to retrieve the belt from the ground, while Bucky took the place Steve had been moments before. He clutched the same pillow to his chest, idly thinking how it smelled strongly of Steve.

"Thirty-four, Stevie," he reminded him, and then tucked his chin into the pillow.

Something fell lightly upon his rear, and it took a moment to realize that Steve had begun his part without a word to him. He huffed and turned his head slightly.

"I know I hit you harder than that, punk," he chided. "If it's not the same strength, it don't count."

Steve huffed. "Why do you have to be so damn wholesome all the time?" he groused, trying to hide the shakiness in his voice. Bucky felt a pang of sympathy, because Steve had never been on the other end of the 'punishments' before, and he was much too worried about seriously damaging him.

"I learned it from my best friend," he answered casually. "You might know him – blond, Irish, most gorgeous baby blues this side of the Atlantic, and a penchant for getting himself into trouble."

"Jerk," Steve huffed again, though as usual when he said it he merely sounded fond.

"Punk," Bucky retorted, and then wiggled his ass in Steve's direction. "You've still got thirty-four more hits with that there belt, so get to it, soldier."

Steve sighed unenthusiastically, but nevertheless he obediently struck him with the belt again, and this time it was harder. Bucky startled in surprise at the stinging blow, before he said, just as Steve had, "One."

In the end, Bucky technically got more than thirty-four strikes, because he refused to count the ones that weren't as hard as the ones he knew he'd given Steve. Steve had finally realized that though, so by the end he didn't bother trying to make the strikes lighter, because the sooner he could get out the approved thirty-four, the sooner he could be done.

Bucky had tried to be as strong as Steve had, but he also didn't want to have no trace of tears when he was finished, because he knew his best friend would notice. It wasn't all too difficult by the time they got to twenty though, because Steve could hit hard enough that it hurt. He'd known that before, but it was a bit different with all of his blows one after the other. He was breathing heavily by the time they finally finished the allotted thirty-four, and he straightened on his feet after he heard the belt dropped quickly to the floor behind him.

It was just as he turned to look at Steve that Steve's breath shuddered, and he caught sight of a face that was a lot more tearful and red than it had been when he first bent over.

"Oh – Steve," Bucky sputtered, forgetting his own physical pain for the moment as Steve's distraught expression became more apparent. "C'mere." He raised his arms, and Steve immediately burrowed himself into them, vainly trying to suppress his sobs.

"I-I – h-hurt – you," Steve said with hitched breaths.

"I hurt you first," Bucky reminded him, running his hands soothingly up and down the skinny back.

"Because I asked you to!" Steve protested, scrubbing the palm of his hand uselessly over one eye in the limited space he had between Bucky's arms and his chest. "And y'only did it 'cause I said I needed it, an' I coulda jus' not needed it, but 'm too fucked up and I was bein' selfish…"

"Hey – shh," Bucky hushed him gently. "I don't hold it against you that you're getting what you need, punk. But sometimes you're just so stubborn that you push yourself too far. This way, I know that you were doing this safely."

"But I coulda jus' not asked for it," Steve said tearfully, not to be deterred from his guilt. "It's weird, that I need to be…to be treated like a kid to feel better…"

"It's a way to pick through your feelings – it's alright," Bucky assured him. "I've never been unwilling to help you, Stevie."

"But you've never…I mean, we haven't…switched or anything…" Steve said helplessly.

"So you need to be spanked sometimes," Bucky said casually, squeezing him tighter for a moment. "Or, y'know – belted, this time. But what I need is to make sure you're okay. That's how I feel better, I suppose – my own coping method." Steve leaned back a little, and Bucky looked down to see the reddened blue eyes gazing up at him.

"Sure, it hurts," Bucky went on, finding himself trapped by those eyes. "It's s'posed to. But at least I know you're okay in return."

Later on, he would never be able to explain exactly why he did what he did at that moment. But as it was, in one moment he was holding the other man in a comforting grip, and in the next he had leaned down and pressed their lips together in a chaste but not at all brotherly or friendly kiss.

He froze, for the barest instant, doubts and recriminations running through his mind. He'd liked Steve for years, but there hadn't really been a sign that Steve was okay with fairies at all, let alone having an interest in men himself. He'd never even planned to act on his feelings, because they would get married and have their own families in a few years anyway, so what was the point of even hoping for something with him? And while he knew that Steve wouldn't turn him in, what would this do to their friendship? Even if Steve didn't appreciate bullying and bigotry on the streets, surely he would be uncomfortable living with a faggot. Damn it all, but what did he just do to their friendship with this single impulsive move in a moment of heightened emotions?

But then…miraculously…Steve kissed him back. The arms Steve had curled between their bodies moved up to Bucky's hair, thin fingers threading through and tugging him in closer. Bucky tugged Steve in closer to mold against his body, and the kiss grew deeper for several seconds, before finally he pulled back. Keeping his eyes closed, not wanting to risk seeing a look of regret on the blond's face, he rested his forehead against Steve's.

"I thought you liked dames," Steve finally whispered, sounding cautious but also a touch awed.

"I do," Bucky said simply, honestly. "But I like you more."

He finally opened his eyes to see a shy, hopeful smile spread across Steve's lips, chasing away any uncertainties. "I like you too, Buck."

And well, there really wasn't much else to say after that. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, because they were too busy kissing to worry about talking.

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