Bucky X: Musketeer

Bucky's scans came back clean, but he didn't get a chance to announce the news to his friends in person because just as he was about to, Jim told them that his dog died. She'd been getting progressively sicker in her old age over the past year, and last weekend they made the decision to put her down. He was understandably distraught, so Bucky, Steve, and their friends did the best they could to comfort him. Bucky hated how much practice he'd had in dealing with loss and helping his friends cope. However, the Moritas were the type of family that didn't function well without a dog in their house, so within a week they were browsing shelters. Jim invited Bucky and Timmy to join them and, after running the idea by Steve, Bucky accepted.

The light in Jim's eyes brightened at the sight of so many dogs, and Bucky knew this was exactly what they needed right now. Nothing would honor their previous dog more than providing a loving home for another dog in need. Jim and his parents drifted away to inquire about some specific dogs they'd looked at on the website, while Bucky and Timmy wandered around aimlessly. Somehow, they ended up in the cat section.

Timmy became enamored with these two tabbies, while Bucky's eye caught one that stood up to stretch. He walked up to its cage and crouched down to watch with fascination as it licked its front paw—its only front paw. The cat paused long enough to give Bucky a once-over, and it seemed to approve because it waltzed up to the bars and pressed itself against them so Bucky could pet him.

"Wow. She's never done that with anyone before," a voice remarked. Bucky turned his head to the right to find a young man who must've been an employee regarding him and the cat with awe.

"Never what?" he asked.

"Let anyone pet her. She usually curls up in the back of the crate," the man explained. Bucky stood back up and turned to face him, trying not to blush when his gaze instantly flew to his stump. His shocked expression quickly morphed into a smile. "I guess she just likes you."

"Maybe," Bucky admitted.

"Are you thinking about adopting?"

"No. Actually, I'm just here with a friend. He's looking for a dog. We just wandered in here to take a look."

"No problem," he assured. "I'm just thrilled that Musketeer was willing to accept some love and affection."

"Her name is Musketeer?" Bucky asked with a joyful huff.

"Yeah. I actually picked the name when we found her. Because there are three of them."

"I get it. It's cute. I hope you find someone she likes to take her home."

"Me too. If you ever find yourself in the market to adopt a cat, feel free to come back."

"My best friend's horribly allergic, so unfortunately I don't think I will be anytime soon, but thank you."

"Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that. Have a nice day."

"You too," Bucky called as the man headed into a nearby office.

"What was that all about?" Timmy asked.

"Apparently Musketeer here hasn't let anybody pet her until I came along," Bucky explained, crouching back down to return his attention to the cat. She started purring as he ran his fingers through her fur.

"Aww, that's adorable. She must feel a connection to you or something."

"I guess so."

"There you guys are!" Jim called, poking his head into the room. "Come and meet the newest member of our family."

"Coming," Timmy said.

Bucky whispered a goodbye to Musketeer, "I hope you find a home soon, I'm sorry I can't be the one to give it to you," and followed Jim and Timmy out to meet his new dog. She was beautiful, a brown and black hound mix with floppy ears and a white-tipped tail which wagged joyously.

"What are you going to name her?" Timmy asked.

"We were thinking Hiro. It's Japanese for prosperous."

"I think that's perfect," Bucky said. Hiro yapped her agreement.

~0~

Bucky showered and changed clothes before heading over to Steve's. He'd promised to tell him all about it since Steve couldn't join them. Rushing through the description of Jim's new dog, he proceeded to outline his encounter with Musketeer in great detail. Steve didn't stop smiling through the entire story. "I never realized how soothing a cat's purr can be until I heard hers. It was amazing," he concluded with a contented sigh.

"Bucky, I want you to promise me something," Steve said, suddenly deadly serious.

"What?"

"That you'll get a cat after I'm gone."

"What?!" The statement caught him completely off guard. They'd touched on this subject a few times throughout their lives, usually after Steve had an asthma attack or got really sick, but rarely did Steve make a direct reference to a future without him in it. The near-certainty of Bucky outliving Steve that had haunted them throughout childhood no longer existed. Any day, Bucky could relapse or develop long-term side effects from his chemo regimen. Either of them could find themselves forced to continue without the other, but Bucky spent most of his time deliberately ignoring that unfortunate fact. Steve's declaration proved he didn't ignore it nearly as much.

That entire thought process must have shown on Bucky's face, because Steve smiled sadly and repeated, "I want you to get a cat."

"Who said I wanted one?" Bucky asked, choosing to focus on the least devastating aspect of Steve's proposed promise.

"You did. Your face lit up like I've never seen when you talked about that three-legged cat. My asthma is the only reason you don't already have one, so when that's no longer a concern I want you to get a cat," Steve explained.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Bucky asked darkly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Steve assured. "My lungs are holding steady. But we both know that won't last forever."

"Won't you get added to the transplant list?"

"Hopefully. But even if I get one, it'll last maybe five or ten years before my body rejects it."

"Steve, I'd rather not ruminate on this."

"I know, I know. Me neither. But I needed to get that off my chest so you'd at least have some sense of direction if I…had to leave," he trailed off.

Wow. Bucky really couldn't have asked for a better best friend. He doubted such a thing even existed. In the past few years he'd lost Carol, Pietra, and little Clint. Each loss hit hard, of course, but none would compare to the soul-crushing wallop that losing Steve would deliver. If that ever came to pass, Bucky knew he'd need help to muddle through. And Steve, his wonderful best friend, had just offered it preemptively.

"Thank you," Bucky muttered. He didn't need Steve's permission to do such a thing, but by making it a wish of his, Steve turned it into an act that would give Bucky a sense of fulfillment in the wake of devastation that his death would bring.

"The best thing Carol ever did for me was give me a task to accomplish after she left, and I want to make sure I do the same."

"Wow. That's…really noble of you," Bucky said. "I promise I'll get a cat if I ever find myself without a friend who's deathly allergic."

"So, in the event of my death or a horrible feud resulting in us never speaking to each other again," Steve said with the beginning of an impish grin.

"Stop! Both of those are too horrible for me to think about," Bucky cried.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop."

"I have one request, and then end of conversation, deal?"

"Deal."

"If I die first, I want you to use those incredible party planning skills to throw a massive FIFA World Cup fiesta every four years."

"I think I can manage that," Steve agreed. "But I probably won't have to; I'll be too busy watching you play in the Amputee Soccer World Cup."

"Let's hope so."

~0~

Bucky did his first successful one-armed push-up at practice the week after that conversation. Since it was fall, they were back to the grind with practice every day after school, but Bucky still couldn't play in any games. Though much better off than last year, he still couldn't keep up with the other boys during conditioning and he didn't trust himself not to be a major disappointment on the field. However, this year, whenever they did push-ups, instead of giving him a pass, Coach Phillips expected him to try one-armed. During their one-on-one conditioning sessions last year they'd started working on them a little bit, and over the summer Bucky had continued to practice. Klaue had also given him some great tips for one-armed workouts.

Bucky didn't expect to succeed. He tried not to focus on his teammates cranking out twenty or thirty without pausing for breath and instead turned his attention to his hand beneath him. Several times now, he'd made it to the bottom and held it there, but he'd never managed to push back up all the way without sacrificing his form. He expected this one to go much like his previous attempts; tipping sideways to shift his center of gravity further over his hand when he should be keeping himself parallel to the ground, or arching his back to keep more weight on his feet instead of his hand. However, he stayed true to form as he pushed into the ground below him and felt his chest rise back up. The next thing he knew, his arm was perfectly straight again.

"Holy shit," he exclaimed. He hopped to his feet and looked across the field for Coach Phillips. "Did you see that?" he asked, not caring if he sounded like a little kid who'd just done the monkey bars for the first time.

"Sure did, Barnes. Congrats. Now finish your set."

He completed a few more really good ones, taking a break between each, before fatigue set in and he stopped, afraid he'd hurt himself if he pushed too hard. Without a backup arm, he couldn't run the risk of injuring his. That would certainly be miserable.

After practice, he headed back to the locker room with all the other boys. "Hey Bucky, I saw those one-armed push-ups!" one of the seniors congratulated, smacking him on the back in celebration.

"Thanks," he said nervously. He still hadn't gotten over his self-consciousness regarding his lacking physical ability compared to his teammates. It felt good to be validated by the best of them.

"Who's coming this Saturday?" he continued, pointing around the room looking for hands.

"You know I'll be there," Monty said. A chorus of yeses sounded from many of the other boys.

Not wanting to embarrass himself, Bucky whispered to Gabe, "Coming where?"

"A party, duh."

"Oh. Are we invited?"

"It's a team party, just like the last one. Of course you're invited."

"Okay. The last one just had a more specific verbal invitation."

"That's because it was the first one of the season. If one of these guys invites you to his place on a weekend night, you can safely assume it's a party. Are you coming?"

"I don't know." Bucky hadn't had that much fun at the last one, and of course it ended disastrously. He still slept with his door cracked so his mom could silently look in without actually coming into the room. Besides, flu season dawned, and the last thing Bucky wanted was to catch a bug and have to quarantine himself from Steve for a week or more. Honestly, he'd rather spend the weekend with him.

"Why not?" Gabe asked.

"Steve and I have plans," Bucky blurted out. They didn't, not at that moment, but they could always make some. They lived so near each other that half their 'plans' were spur of the moment decisions involving nothing more than a text and a subsequent knock on the door.

"Of course you do." Gabe rolled his eyes as he switched out his cleats for street shoes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You two are joined at the hip. The only time I ever see you without him is here at soccer."

Bucky considered denying it, but he knew Gabe was right. And he didn't even mind. "So what if we are."

"Nothing. No problem."

The words were spilling out of him before Bucky even thought to say them. "I just want to spend as much time with him as possible before, you know…" Bucky didn't used to think about his friend's life expectancy that often, but now that he'd already had a transplant evaluation and was probably one exacerbation away from being listed, he realized things were really down to the wire now. If he didn't get lungs, it was only a matter of time. Even if he did, that would only set another timer on his life. And when that timer ran out, Bucky didn't want to bear any regrets.

Gabe's eyes softened. "I know. You're a great friend. He's lucky to have you."

"Thanks."