Carbon Polymer

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"Don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me..."

"Stop it, Bucky." Steve sounded suitably exasperated.

Bucky grinned, losing the thread of his song. Ever since that little interlude in the apple orchard a few weeks ago, he had taken a perverse pleasure in singing the hit tune around Steve as often as he could. He would have done it to Peggy too, but knew he wouldn't get out of it without at least one extra bullet hole somewhere in his anatomy.

"I'm just singing," he protested as innocently as possible, carefully turning his head to hide the smile spreading across his face. Steve had teased Bucky a thousand times about different girls, but this was the first time Bucky'd ever had the opportunity to retaliate, and revenge was sweet.

"Well, do your warbling when we're not trying to pull off an ambush," Steve retorted. "I feel like I've got the Andrews sisters in my unit."

He did have a point. They were crouched low in the underbrush, waiting for the Hydra patrol that swept these woods. It probably wasn't the most appropriate time to sing. Even so, Bucky continued to lightly tap out the rhythm of the song on his rifle stock. It made Steve's ears match the stripes on his shield, which was most entertaining.

Beside, Bucky had the fool song stuck in his head.

Taking down Hydra bases was harder than ever. As base after base went down, Schmidt countered by grouping his men, upping the security and weaponry, and even sweeping the countryside for miles around.

The Howling Commandos, despite the rowdiness of their moniker, were pretty good at sneaking quietly past the border patrols. Captain Rogers could hear them coming long before they were in sight, and the team would be scattered and well hidden by the time the enemy marched through.

Still, sometimes things went wrong. This time, just as the Hydra patrol came around the bend, Dugan sneezed; loudly, and with unintentional gusto.

At the sound, the leader of the patrol stopped short, swinging around toward the clump of bushes where Dum Dum was hiding. Then, before anybody could do anything, while Bucky was still bringing his own rifle into position and Dernier was clawing for a grenade that wouldn't kill them all, Steve Rogers made his move.

The captain burst out of hiding, legs pumping, brightly colored shield already curving through the air to knock the gun out of the soldier's hands a split second before it went off. The other Hydra agents shouted in surprise, swiveling their guns toward America's hero, but they were far, far too late.

After all, where Steve Rogers led, the Howling Commandos followed.

The brief skirmish was almost over, when out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw one of the wounded enemy soldiers tear off his helmet and drag himself up against a tree. Steve didn't see the movement, busy hurling his shield at another man who was trying to get away.

"Steve!" the wounded soldier screamed, and suddenly Bucky understood with an awful clarity what was about to happen.

Nobody ever called Steve by his first name. It was either 'Rogers' or 'Captain' or 'Captain America.' Even the Commandos called him 'Cap' most of the time.

Only Bucky Barnes and Peggy Carter ever called him by his first name - and this soldier's voice couldn't be mistaken as that of a woman.

Bucky stumbled forward, trying to catch the captain's eye, but he was too late. At the sound of his name, cried out by what sounded like his friend in agony, Steve spun around and stepped away from his cover, open, defenseless, searching for his brother.

"Buck-" he started, and the enemy soldier grinned and pulled the trigger.

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"No!"

Bucky didn't realize the roar in his ears was his own voice until long after. He raced forward, blood turning to ice as he saw his best friend go down, blue light from the Hydra weapon searing the air.

The star-spangled shield ricocheted back towards its owner, but Steve was on the ground, and it soared over his head, ploughing into the dead leaves at Bucky's feet.

Okay. He could work with that.

Bucky didn't think twice, sweeping the shield off the ground and holding it in front of him as he continued his charge, clearing his friend's body with one bound. The enemy soldier fired three more times, but Bucky deflected each shot, the smell of burnt ozone making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He barely felt the impact as he slammed into the enemy, bowling the man end over end. The threat neutralized, Bucky whirled around, shield in hand.

Steve was still down, though he was moving. That alone was enough to set Bucky's heart a little more at rest. A shot from one of those weapons could vaporize a man, if it hit him dead center. The captain had apparently twisted enough out of the way at the last second that the shot had been a glancing one.

"Steve," Bucky cried, hurrying over. A bolt of blue crackled past his ribs, and he flinched, bringing up the shield just in time. It seemed that every Hydra agent, seeing Captain America momentarily incapacitated, had turned their weapon toward the downed man. Dugan bellowed lustily, and a sudden sharp concussion announced that Dernier had their backs.

Throwing himself on his knees at Steve's side, Bucky angled the shield, trying to cover as much of the two of them as he could. Steve groaned, rolling onto his side, drawing his knees up. He was grimacing, breathing hard, blue eyes peeling slowly open.

"Buck?" he gasped. "You okay? I thought…"

Bucky ducked reflexively as blue fire ricocheted off of the shield. The enemy blasts were growing farther and further between - the Howling Commandos were taking care of them. "I'm fine," he promised, and took refuge in their old banter to hide his relief. "Better'n you. Look at you; napping in the middle of a fight like a big baby."

Steve laughed in spite of himself, smile pulling into an expression of pained determination as he accepted the offered hand and slowly dragged himself into a sitting position. Bucky tried to get a look at where the shot had grazed him, but Steve kept his arm close to his side, hiding it.

At least there wasn't any visible blood - that was something.

"Let me see," he ordered, but Steve wouldn't let him.

"I'm okay," the captain said, and shook his head a little to clear it. "Just - ah - give me a sec."

Punk. Bucky looped an arm around Steve's neck, pulling him until his friend's forehead rested against his shoulder, giving him a moment to gather himself. For just a minute it was like old times again - the days when Steve had been beaten up badly enough that all he could do was sit and try to catch his breath. Tough as those days had been, there was a sort of nostalgia lingering around the memories now.

Then another of Dernier's explosions shook the ground, and Steve raised his head, pulling back. Bucky, watching closely, saw the exact moment the steel returned to his friend's expression.

You couldn't pay the guy to stay down, really. Add a foot or so of height and a hundred-odd pounds of muscle, but beneath it all, Steve was still the stubborn kid from Brooklyn.

"Let's finish this," he panted. "We got a base to take out."

The cheer that went up when the captain reentered the fight was deafening, and it showed exactly how the Howling Commandos got their name.

Hydra didn't stand a chance.

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They camped that night over the ridge from the smoldering remains of the Hydra outpost. Bucky slapped his hands together, blowing into his cupped palms and trying to warm icy fingers with his own breath. Winter wasn't too far out, and on nights like this, you could feel it.

Normally they would try to put a little more distance between themselves and their latest victory in order to avoid possible enemy reinforcements, but not tonight. The men were beat, and even Steve was unusually quiet.

At the thought, Bucky frowned heavily. He knew his friend was hurt, but Steve hadn't given him a single chance to corner him about it. That fact alone told him that the damage was probably pretty bad - Steve Rogers had always been one to hole himself up and weather a storm on his own.

What he wouldn't give for Carter to be here. She and Colonel Phillips were miles away, working on some tom-fool publicity thing. Mogs seemed to see eye to eye with him on the care and keeping of Steve Rogers, and between the two of them, they could usually get the stubborn captain to do what they wanted.

"You turning in anytime soon?" Morita asked idly. He was the one on watch, and the others had long since crawled into their tents.

"Waiting up for Steve," Bucky explained, tucking his hands under his arms and trying to imagine they were getting warmer. The captain had cut off as the others set up camp, making one more trip around the destroyed base to ensure everything was as it should be.

Morita nodded understandingly. He wasn't a big talker, and Bucky was kind of glad about that. The last thing he wanted right now was conversation.

A shape loomed out of the darkness, and Morita jerked up his gun, only to let it fall when he saw the bright shield. "Sheesh, warn a guy, Cap - I could've shot you."

"Sorry." Steve was moving more slowly than he normally did. Bucky couldn't tell if his face was really that white, or if it was a trick of the moonlight. "No sign of activity - I think we're safe to spend the night here."

Bucky gave up trying to get his hands warm. "Good," he said pointedly. "'Night, Steve."

"G'night," the captain answered, crossing to his tent. Bucky watched him closely. Yeah, if Steve were anybody else, he'd be limping outright. Actually - if Steve were anybody else, he'd be dead.

Nope, not thinking thoughts like that tonight. Bucky dropped to his knees and crawled into the tent after his friend.

"Buck…" Steve sounded resigned, even as he tried to protest. "It'll heal. I'm fine, really."

"In a pig's eye," Bucky retorted bluntly, clicking his flashlight on and using it to find Steve's light, which he turned on as well. The heavy canvas of the tent would keep most of the light in, and they'd only worry about attracting enemy soldiers if they came along.

Steve's face was concerningly pale in the warm yellow light from the two flashlights. The tent was only made for one man, so it was rather cramped quarters, and Bucky kept banging his head and elbows against the tent wall.

"Okay, let me see," he demanded firmly. "Neither one of us is gonna get any sleep until I have you patched up, so you might as well give in." Steve had that obstinate look around his jaw, so Bucky stubbornly jutted out his own chin and added the clincher.

"I'll tell Peggy on you, when she gets back."

Steve visibly wavered and then caved. Unhooking his shield from his arm, he leaned it against the tent wall and then turned, slowly heaving himself into a more comfortable position. Bucky reached for his elbow, pulling it away from his body, and got a good look at the site of the hit for the first time.

"Aw, Stevie."

The carbon polymer of the suit was singed and melted where the bolt had hit him. There was still no blood visible, but Bucky hated to think what it looked like under the uniform.

"Let's get this off of you," he grumbled, feeling for the buckles that fastened the leather harness. "Find out what that thing did to your skin. Seriously, Steve - I can't believe you've been running around on that all day."

Actually, he could believe it, very well indeed. This was the kid who had strapped up a badly sprained ankle and continued working so he wouldn't get fired from the only job that would hire him, the kid who'd had pneumonia more times than he had fingers, the kid who consistently put himself last.

They got the uniform top half off before the damage became evident - and then Bucky had to sit back and swallow hard.

The carbon polymer of the suit had melted straight through the undershirt and into Steve's skin, fusing together until it was hard to tell how to separate the two. Angry blisters and burns surrounded the area, and the captain flinched hard when Bucky's fingers cautiously grazed the edge.

"How do you want to do this?" Bucky asked his friend.

Steve tried to shrug and then winced, evidently regretting it. "Got to get it off so it can heal."

Without a word, Bucky got up and crawled out of the tent, coming back a few minutes later with another first aid kit and his helmet full of water. "Bite on something," he suggested, and took a deep breath, nerving himself to do what had to be done. "This isn't exactly gonna tickle."

Steve stuffed the sleeve of his uniform in his mouth, and Bucky's hands shook as he pulled out his knife.

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They were both drenched with sweat by the time Bucky dug the last piece of melted polymer out of Steve's skin. The captain had long since doubled over, resting his forehead on his knees, fists clenching convulsively.

Several times they'd had to stop and take a break, allowing Steve a minute to take long breaths and try to stop gagging from the pain. Bucky also needed the time to shake the trembles out of his hands. This was bringing back bad memories of his time being experimented on by Zola after Azzano, and he couldn't help but feel like scum, hurting his friend like this.

"That's the last one," he said now, carefully prodding the ugly mess that used to be Steve's skin, trying to make sure he hadn't missed anything. "You doin' okay?"

Steve raised his head a little, spitting out the mangled sleeve of his uniform. "Peachy," he choked. He'd always been a rotten liar. Shudders raced over his back, muscles twitching uncontrollably.

"I wish Carter were here," Bucky continued, trying to get Steve's mind off the pain as he proceeded to wash out the wound. "If a guy's gonna get himself charbroiled, the least he deserves is a pretty dame to nurse him through it."

His distraction must have worked - Steve flushed heavily, the red crawling all the way up his neck and into his ears. "I'm glad she's not," he finally admitted, breath catching as Bucky's cloth caught a particularly tender spot. "Wouldn't want her to see me like this."

Bucky rinsed the bloody cloth out again. "When are you going to give in and ask her to marry you?"

He'd halfway meant it as a joke, an idle conversation starter, but Steve didn't answer for a long time.

"We got a date to go dancing when the war's over," he finally said, much later, when Bucky had almost forgotten his question. There was a quiet, almost tremulous hope in his voice. "I - I thought maybe after that…" He trailed off and then chuckled ruefully. "Assuming I don't break all her toes by stepping on them first."

"Maybe ask her before you go dancing," Bucky suggested. He was touched that his friend would confide in him, but wasn't sure how to show it, so he took refuge in teasing. "If she sees you dance first, she might get scared off."

Steve shrugged a little, neck still red. "She's something else, Buck. I - she's way too good for me, but I figure I might as well try my luck."

"Well, they're saying the war might end by Christmas." Bucky unwound a length of bandages from the kit, pleased that his hands weren't shaking anymore, even though they were cold and numb from the water.

Steve hesitated, and then shook his head. "Not Christmas," he decided, and his voice was steadier, not quite as hoarse as it had been earlier. "I'm betting it won't be long after that, though. We're closing down on Hydra, and the Nazis don't have enough supplies to keep going indefinitely."

Bucky laid the end of the roll of bandages against Steve's side and started winding it around and around, trying to pull it just tightly enough. Sometimes it was hard for him to look forward to the future. Every day, every minute, every bullet could be the last, could mark the premature end of the war for any man. They hadn't lost any of the Commandos yet, but their luck was bound to run out sooner or later.

"Hey, Steve - you think we'll make it?"

He wished he hadn't said it as soon as the words left his mouth, but it was too late, and his question hung heavy in the air. Then Steve shifted, turning his head toward his friend. His face was still creased with pain and weariness, but his eyes were bright. "Yeah," he said, and he was smiling a little. "I really do - I think both of us are gonna make it through."

Bucky tucked the end of the bandage in firmly, and shoved the pile of red, white and blue into a corner. That uniform was a dead loss. "You're an incurable optimist, Rogers," he grumbled, but somehow his friend's words were comforting.

It was too dark and cold outside for Bucky to want to head back to his own tent, so he bedded down with Steve, just like all those times when they were kids. Bucky pulled up the blanket and both their coats, and then hunkered down, Steve's back against his.

Outside the wind was picking up, and the canvas shuddered over their heads. He hoped they weren't in for a storm. Humming sleepily, Bucky pulled the blanket up to his nose.

After a moment, Steve shifted. Golly, his elbow was sharp. Some things never changed. "Buck?"

Bucky stopped humming. "Yeah?"

"You keep singing that song, I'm gonna kick you out."

Bucky grinned broadly into the darkness.

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The next morning when Bucky blinked awake Steve was already up and shaving, hunched over so he could look into the mirror hanging from the tent pole. There was color in his face, and the lines of pain were gone – but the best thing of all was the tune he was whistling unconsciously between his teeth.

"…with anyone else but me, 'till I come marching home."

Bucky didn't stop laughing for ten minutes.

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The song Bucky keeps singing is "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree" by Lew Brown and Charles Tobias. The Andrews Sisters rendition was particularly famous during WWII. If you've never heard it, look it up - only beware - it may stick in your head too. I know it's stuck in mine. I don't own it, or anything else but the storyline. Thanks to Qweb for the idea!