I do not own Captain America anything.
Or a Bucky. It's probably for the best.
Pieces of a Broken Puzzle
Alleys and Sidestreets
He still did it.
Every time.
He guessed it could be called a compulsion.
In the early days of his recovery, he couldn't quite remember why.
Except that it was really important.
Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, Bucky Barnes always impulsively glanced down alleys.
Sidestreets.
Empty lots as he passed them.
Head down, eyes resolutely trained on the pavement before his feet.
Closed off, hunched against the world even as his honed instincts and heightened senses remained open to it.
Always viligant.
Always aware.
The training of a soldier.
The life of an assassin.
The dread of a man hunted.
But something else as well.
Something buried far deeper.
Something for a while . . .
"Sometimes I think you like getting hit."
. . . he couldn't quite put his finger on.
Once he figured it out, he felt foolish and tried to stop.
Steve's not here.
Not anymore.
And even if he was, he's the big guy now.
The tough one.
"Captain America".
And he doesn't need my protection or help anymore.
It was comfort, knowing little Steve Rogers wasn't always going to be beaten up sometime, somewhere.
At least without an entire battalion of super soldiers . . .
". . . led by Steven Rogers, raced to save the floating city's citizens from certain death . . ."
But he still couldn't break the habit.
No matter how hard he tried.
So eventually . . .
"I had him on the ropes."
. . . he gave up.
And looked anyway.
A rueful, slightly embarrassed smirk cutting through his usually stoic visage.
Even before we were soldiers, Steve was always getting into fights he couldn't win.
That was how we met.
Some older kid was pushing around another kid during lunch break.
Took his seat, stepped on his sandwich, something.
And Steve stepped in like he wasn't about to get the crap beaten out of him too.
His nose was bloody by the time I jumped out of the crowd and gave the bully a blackeye.
After getting one of my own.
Steve got into alot of fights after that.
He never backed away from a fight.
He never backed down from a bully.
He was braver his entire life than I ever thought about being because when he was little, he always knew how it was going to end.
And he stepped up anyway.
I always respected his pluck even if I thought he was crazy half the time.
He was my best friend.
I mean, really, how often did Bucky wander down alleys and stuff in the '40s just to see if Steve was somewhere getting his butt whipped? ;)
Thanks to brigid1318, brynerose, Sassiebone, caristonia7, and DinahRay for reviewing!
