A/N: Here we are old friends, you and me, on the last chapter. Thank you all for reading and enjoy!
So Barnes and I aren't enemies anymore, but we aren't friends either. His old posse mainly ignores him now; they don't think he's worth their time. He's also stopped bullying. Well for the most part anyway. There's been a couple of days when he shoves me around or makes a scathing remark, but I ignore them now. He's just having a bad day. More often than not, we nod to each other in the halls and sometimes sit by each other during lunch.
It's Friday and as soon as the school bell rings, everyone rushes out the door. The crowd surges around me and sends me to the floor. As the last stragglers leave, I brush myself off and stand. I hear something around the corner.
"I said stop Stan! I don't like you! Leave me alone!"
"Ah come on Sally, please."
"I said no you creep!" I peer around the corner and see a tall fifth grader leaning in to kiss the unwilling girl. His friend is standing in the doorway, rolling his eyes.
"Hey! Leave her alone." Stan stops mid pucker and glares at me. Sally let's out a small sigh of relief, but he's still too close for comfort to her. His friend bats him on the shoulder.
"He's a nobody. Let's go."
"Fine." Stan goes for another kiss and Sally looks terrified. So of course I, being the self righteous idiot that I am, kick Stan in the shin. Hard.
"Ouch! You little-! I'll kill you!" I rattle off a string of insults and yell,
"Gotta catch me first!" That should do the trick. I start running. Off the school yard, down the street, around a couple of corners.
I duck through the crowds on the sidewalk, trying to get away. Now, I don't run from fights, but in this case I'm leading them away from someone, so it doesn't count. I can hear them behind me. I turn a corner, hoping to find a back door, or outlet, or something, but find a dead end behind a restaurant instead. The two boys turn the corner behind me and block off my only escape route. My breath is coming in raspy gasps and not for the first time, I curse my asthma.
They waste no time on words and skip immediately to the pummelling. A hard punch in the gut sends me to the ground. There's a trash can lid by my side. As one of them aims for another hit, I lift the lid, using it as a shield. A loud clang reverberates in the air as his fist strikes the metal. He swears loudly. His friend easily takes the shield from me and flings it back down the alley way. A kick to my stomach knocks the breath out of me and I can't get it back in. They toss me in the dumpster and laugh.
"What a loser," one of them says.
"Seriou-oof." I hear some scuffling and some smacks and can tell there's a fight going on, though I'm more concerned about getting air into my lungs. A moment later there are receding footsteps and then someone approaches the dumpster.
It's Barnes.
He jumps in with me.
"You alright Rogers?" he asks. I shake my head no. I'm having an asthma attack. I need my inhaler. His brow furrows.
"Inhaler," I manage to gasp out. The pressure on my lungs is getting more painful. His eyes widen as he finally understands. Barnes leaps back out of the dumpster and I can hear him tearing through my backpack, until I hear a shout of triumph and Barnes scrambles back into the dumpster. I hold out my hand and he passes it to me. I suck it in once, twice, three times, and a fourth for good measure. My body relaxes as sweet medicine and air fill my lungs.
"Thanks," I finally manage to say. "That's the worse attack I've had in a while." I sit up better and he asks me,
"How long have you had asthma?"
I cough and reply, "My whole life. I had hoped it was getting better." I take another puff.
Barnes keeps asking me questions and we talk for hours in that dumpster, as if we've known each other for years. I finally get around to asking him what the heck he's even doing here.
"I saw you being chased and was wondering why the famous Steve Rogers was running away from a fight." He nudges my shoulder. "Plus I figured you could use a hand."
"I had them on the ropes," I reply. He snorts.
"Sure you did." He grunts and stands up. "I better be getting home. Becca will be worried." He extends his hand to me and I take it, accepting the help up. My stomach still hurts.
"Same here. My mom always expects the worse if I'm not home by 3:30." Barnes laughs as he jumps out of the dumpster and looks back to see if I need help.
"With you, I can see why." He reaches a hand out, but I ignore it and jump to the ground, promptly managing to nearly face plant. He pulls me up.
"Thanks," I tell him as I brush myself off. "For all of that actually."
"That's what friends are for, right?" he replies. And he smiles; a real, happy, friendly smile.
"Yeah, they are." And I smile back. He puts his arm over my shoulders as we saunter out of the alley.
"Well, see ya on Monday, Barnes."
"Hey." He punches me on the shoulder. "My friends call me Bucky." We're both grinning like idiots and I'm pretty sure this is the first time we've both had a real friend.
"And mine call me Steve."
"Well, see ya later than Steve." He gives a little casual salute with his fingers and starts to walk away.
"See ya Bucky."