Chapter 12: Barnes and Rogers, the Beginning

Cleaning up after such a massive get-together took them days, and Bucky was relieved to eventually return to the equilibrium of their daily lives without having to plan and prep for this party. Another new project soon disrupted that routine yet again. "I think we should write the book," Steve announced out of the blue after dinner one night.

"What book?"

"The children's book we said we were going to write at the beginning of junior year."

"Junior year of high school?" Bucky only remembered that conversation because that first day of school had been so momentous for him. They still occasionally told the story of Mrs. Dormer and Bucky's epic comeback to her assumption about his arm; everyone who heard it for the first time cracked up.

"Yeah. The one based on us."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I think it would be fun. And there aren't nearly enough kids' books with disabled main characters."

"I don't know the first thing about writing a kids' book," Bucky admitted.

"Me neither. But I'm sure we'll figure it out. Let's just start with brainstorming storylines."

"Okay…why don't we just do our actual life stories?"

"Not very kid-friendly. Romance doesn't entice kindergarteners. And I don't want it to be solely focused on illness."

"What do kindergarteners like to read about?"

"Adventures, animals, magic…and I guess things they know like school and vacation and stuff like that."

"How about a magical quest?"

"That's an idea." Steve scribbled it down in a notebook. "But I'm kind of leaning towards a more grounded story. Something a kid could see themself doing."

"What about me trying out for soccer or something?"

"I like that."

"But I don't want to be the main character. You can't just be 'Bucky's friend' in the story."

"It would probably sell more if you're the main character because you're famous," Steve pointed out.

"Does that matter?"

"To some degree. No one will publish it if it's not gonna sell."

"True. But I think having my name attached will be enough for that. I want us to share the pages equally."

"So soccer's out then. What's a goal we can work towards together?"

"Defeating a bully? Base him on Alex?"

"I don't want to portray disabled people as victims. The world has enough of that."

"Good point. What if it's something really simple, like getting other kids together at recess for a group game or something?"

"That's plausible. It would take some thought to get a whole story out of it."

"Wait, I've got it!" Bucky exclaimed. All this talk of getting kids together and disability had him thinking about what a page of this book might look like, and he kept picturing them and all their friends together. The best way to get a spread like that? "Let's plan a party."

"What kind of party?"

"I dunno, something we could invite all our friends to. The story can follow us picking a theme, a venue, all that sort of thing, and at the end it'll show us celebrating both the occasion for the party and all our hard work paying off."

Steve pondered this for a moment, then his face broke into a wide grin. "I love it."

~0~

Over the next few weeks, they devoted their evenings and some of their free time on the weekends to delineating the plot points of their story. Along the way they decided on a rhyme scheme, and Steve insisted on at least attempting to also illustrate. His first attempt, however, was nothing short of hilarious.

Bucky sat in the armchair trying out different ways to write the scene where they determined the top room of a massive stone tower was not an appropriate place to host the party while Steve worked on sketches at his desk. "Bucky, come take a look at this," he said. "I just finished my first draft of you."

"That would sound pretty fucked up without context," he muttered as he walked over to see the drawing. What he found nearly made him choke. Steve had drawn him, alright, but he clearly failed to grasp the concept of illustrating. The body was okay, a simplified and rounded out form of his actual shape, but atop that body sat a hyper-realistic image of his face. It looked like one of those cardboard panels with cutouts that people stuck their faces in. Bucky couldn't help it; he started laughing.

Steve covered the drawing with his hand. "What's so funny?"

"Steve, that face does not belong on that body."

"What do you mean? It's your face."

"I look too real. It's supposed to be a cartoon. You've got to dumb it down."

"But I love your face, and I want to draw it as handsome as it is in real life."

Bucky laid a hand on his shoulder and said solemnly, "Then you can't illustrate this book."

"Fine. I'll try again," Steve grumbled. He moved to crumple up his previous attempt, but Bucky stopped him.

"Oh no, we're keeping this."

"Why? You said it was bad."

"It amuses me. Now hold it up so I can take a picture."

Steve reluctantly held up the drawing.

"Now we have this as a 'before' picture to compare to when I eventually get one of you holding the published version of this book," Bucky said.

"You're assuming we'll get published?"

"Yes, because it's the type of attitude that will get us published. Now you get one of me and my cartoon self." He handed Steve his phone and took the drawing from him. The likeness was spot on, but the idea of this picture appearing in a children's book was preposterous. Hopefully, Steve would get the idea with practice. Bucky could tell he really wanted to be the one to bring this story to life on the page.

~0~

In August, Tony invited them out to his house in Malibu to celebrate Parker's twenty-first birthday. Not only that, but he also provided the transportation on his family's private jet.

"Tony, you need to stop spoiling us with your rich-person lifestyle," Steve sighed once they arrived. He'd never been to Tony's Malibu house before, but knowing Tony he should have expected this level of grandeur.

"I'm not going to have a beach house and not share it," he countered. "Especially when it's my friend's twenty-first birthday."

Parker yelled from the next room over, where he was giving Ned a tour, "If you mention that one more time, you won't see my next birthday."

Tony's eyes widened. He muttered, "I can't tell if he was threatening to kill me or just uninviting me to his next birthday party."

"Knowing Parker, probably just an un-invitation," Bucky said.

Tony grinned and gestured for them to follow. Steve tried not to gawk at every feature of the house on their way to their room. "This house only has so many bedrooms. You guys don't mind sharing, right?" he asked with a smirk.

Steve rolled his eyes. Tony had been positively insufferable since the wedding, but it was obviously a delight for him to tease them so Steve let it slide. Bucky, on the other hand, was just as amused as Tony.

"Aw man, I was hoping to bunk with Bruce," he grumbled. Steve shut him up with an elbow to the side. They didn't waste much time unpacking, eager to spend time with everybody, but Steve did make sure to double check all his equipment and meds. He'd double checked them before packing, of course, but he wanted to make sure nothing was damaged or lost in transit. Bucky finished much sooner and sat on the massive bed waiting for Steve.

"This room is huge," he remarked. "But I doubt it's even the master. Unless it is? Tony wouldn't give us the master bedroom, would he?"

Steve shrugged. "He might. If MJ came he probably would have given it to her and Parker, but she wanted him to have a guys weekend."

A knock at the door interrupted their discussion. "Get your trunks on!" Parker called without even poking his head in. "We're heading down to the beach in a few minutes."

"Okay, thanks," Steve replied. He and Bucky got changed, Steve sunscreened and put on a ball cap, and Bucky was ready to bound out the door before Steve stopped him and held out the bottle of sunscreen. Bucky made no move to take it, but Steve fixed him with a look that brokered no argument. Anti-rejection meds made his own skin extra sensitive to UV light, and Steve knew the scar tissue on Bucky's stump was similarly vulnerable. They both had shirts on at the moment, but there was no guarantee they'd stay on, especially if they decided to get in the ocean.

Bucky reluctantly accepted the bottle and said cheekily, "Wouldn't want to get cancer, would I?"

"Not funny."

"Fine. I'll put it on when we get there."

By the time they got out the door, Tony, Parker, and Ned were waiting for them on the porch. "Where's Bruce?" Steve asked.

"On a date with a book and a beach chair," Tony remarked. "But I'm hoping we can get him to ditch them for us."

"Oh we will," Bucky vowed. On the way down, they stopped by the shed full of beach gear and Bucky grabbed a foam volleyball. Steve knew immediately that a contest of some sort awaited them in the near future. Several surfboards sat in racks on the walls.

"You surf?" Steve asked.

"I used to, sometimes. But I can't anymore."

"I'm sorry, that must suck."

Tony shrugged. "I wasn't overly attached to the sport."

Bucky walked up to one of the boards and pulled at a handle drilled into the front of it. "What's this for?"

"Oh, um…it's the same kind of modification that Bethany Hamilton uses," Tony explained sheepishly. "Last time I was here, I fixed it up in case you ever wanted to try it."

"Tony, that's so thoughtful of you."

Steve wholeheartedly agreed. However, nobody particularly wanted to try surfing on day one of Parker's birthday weekend, so they simply set up chairs in a row beside Bruce's and stretched out to enjoy the sound and smell of the ocean.

"I can't even remember the last time I went to the beach," Steve remarked.

"Me neither," Bucky agreed. "My parents and I used to go to North Carolina every summer, but we stopped after cancer. Soccer got too busy."

"Last time I was here was with Tony after Clint's funeral," Parker said. "But MJ and I went to Coney Island a few times."

"Which beach is better?" Tony asked teasingly.

"Definitely this one," Ned proclaimed.

"Agreed," Parker said.

Steve should have figured Bucky wouldn't want to sit still any longer than this, not with the ocean before him. He stood up and pulled off his tee shirt, announcing, "I'll be in the water if anyone needs me." Steve picked up the bottle of sunscreen Bucky promised to use and threw it at him. It hit him square between the shoulder blades—well, what would have been the middle; he only had the one.

"Hey!"

"Sunscreen."

"Fine."

"And you have to wait ten minutes after putting it on before you get soaked."

"Was he this bossy before he was your husband?" Tony asked.

"No," Bucky said, at the exact same time that Steve said, "Yes."

Bucky rolled his eyes. Steve wished he'd made him do it before they left the house, because he was reluctant to let Steve help him in front of their friends. However, not even Bucky's stubbornness could magically make him able to reach his own arm to rub in sunscreen. Fortunately for him, none of their friends drew any attention to it.

"So Parker, what are you drinking tonight?" Tony asked with a knowing raise of his eyebrows.

"I don't know. My experience with alcohol extends to watching people order at bars in movies," Parker said. "What do you recommend?"

"You'd probably want something with a decent amount of sugar to offset the taste, so I'd suggest either a rum and coke or a lemon drop."

Just the mention of the phrase 'lemon drop' had Bucky reflexively gagging.

"What's wrong?" Tony asked.

"Sorry," Bucky croaked. He held a fist over his mouth and forcibly gulped. "Lemon drops were my chemo scapegoat food."

"You drank hard liquor before chemo?" Ned asked, shocked.

"No, the candy."

"Oh. That makes more sense."

"Sorry I brought it up," Tony said sheepishly. "The drink version is just vodka and lemonade."

"It's fine. But I think I'll stick to beer."

"As a lazy tailor would say, suit yourself," Parker quipped.

Steve chuckled. "Where'd you hear that expression?"

Parker's face instantly turned three shades redder. Ned, clearly in on the joke, started laughing. "It's from…Phineas and Ferb," he admitted. "Doofenshmirtz said it one time."

The name was so ridiculous Steve couldn't believe it was a real character, but it was clearly somebody Parker respected if he was quoting him, so Steve kept his mouth shut. Bucky's ten minutes elapsed and he made a beeline for the water. With the Starks' mansion being so isolated, he didn't have to worry about any other beach patrons staring at him. Steve didn't either, so he tore off his own shirt and chased Bucky into the tide. Their enthusiasm encouraged Parker and Ned to follow suit, but Bruce stayed behind with Tony since he couldn't submerge his driveline. Bucky noticed Steve hot on his tail and decided to make a game of it, fleeing and diving under the next wave that crashed over him.

At the beginning of summer, he'd done a team-building exercise with the rest of his teammates—well, he'd called it a team-building exercise, but Steve called it a pool party, because that's what it was. Steve had been invited too, and learned for the first time how Bucky swam with his disability. Instead of front side down, he swam left side down and used his arm for freestyle, breathing on the same side every time. This was the same technique he utilized now, but Steve had the advantage of four limbs to propel him through the water. He soon caught up and dunked him. Parker and Ned swam up beside them. They stood beyond the breaking region, rocked only by the regular swells of waves heading to shore. A ways away was a little cove where the water remained mostly undisturbed, so they headed over there.

"Would you think me childish if I suggested we have a chicken fight?" Parker asked.

"Yes," Bucky said bluntly. "But when I say childish I mean it in the most fun sense of the word." Without even asking first, he started clambering to get onto Steve's shoulders.

"Hey! I'm not a jungle gym!" Steve called.

"That's what she said," Bucky whispered lewdly into his ear.

Steve threw himself backwards to dunk Bucky, still latched onto his back trying to climb up. They both came up spluttering and laughing in equal measures. This time, they worked together to get Bucky up on Steve's shoulders and square up against Parker atop Ned.

"I've actually never done this before," Parker admitted.

"You're twenty-one and you've never had a chicken fight?" Steve asked.

"Nope. I was too shy as a kid."

Almost every summer growing up, there had been an impressive chicken fight tournament among them and their friends. Bucky and Gabe made the most successful duo, but Jim and Timmy had beaten them once or twice.

"This is my first time on the bottom," Steve admitted. He'd always been the smallest of his friends, and none of them had ever been willing to let him carry them.

"No it's not," Bucky announced.

Steve felt his entire face flush in an instant. "Oh my God, shut the fuck up."

Parker and Ned were both trying valiantly not to laugh—and failing miserably. Bucky patted Steve on the head like a child would a dog. "When this is over, I'm going to drown you," Steve warned. They set up for the first match, and Steve quickly learned that being on the bottom was actually a much easier job than being up top. All he had to do was keep his footing and maintain his grip on Bucky's legs so he didn't fall.

It soon became clear that Parker was not exactly a formidable opponent, especially against someone as competitive as Bucky. Parker hesitated to even use both arms out of fear of pressing it as an unfair advantage, but Bucky's one arm against Parker's one arm was an unfair advantage for Bucky. On the second round, Bucky took him down with one shove. Steve did not ultimately drown Bucky when it was over, but he did land a solid punch. They spent the way back to shore laughing until they were breathless.

"Parker, you let him take you down way too easy!" Tony jeered.

"He's freakishly strong!" Parker countered.

"What can I say, I love a good competition," Bucky said.

"And a dirty joke," Steve muttered.

Bruce picked up the foam volleyball and said, "How about a non-aquatic competition?"

"I'm in," Ned said.

"Me too," Bucky echoed.

Parker was way ahead of them, drawing a line in the sand perpendicular to the ocean to serve as a net. Then he continued to outline the rest of the court. "How do we want to split up teams? Three on three or rotating teams of two on two?"

"Let's do three on three," Tony said. "Dibs on Bucky!"

"It's my birthday! I get first dibs on teammates!"

"I never thought I'd have people fighting over me," Bucky said to Steve. "Are you gonna pull the marriage card to get me on your team?"

"No, I don't want to be on your volleyball team," Steve said honestly.

He looked genuinely offended. "What?"

"You heard me." Steve marched across the line to the other side of their makeshift court. He ended up with Bruce and Tony, against Bucky, Parker, and Ned. Now that Bruce wasn't sitting down, Steve caught his first-ever glimpse of the man's bare back, and the sight made him ferociously angry. Bruce was covered in lash marks. The fact he was even willing to bare this physical evidence of his history proved how comfortable he was among them, which Steve considered an amazing thing. In fact, none of them were shy about it with each other. Ned had a tank top on, but Steve noticed a jagged scar on his right upper arm that he'd never seen before. He shivered to imagine what could have caused it.

"Does anybody actually know the rules of volleyball?" Bruce asked.

"Three contacts max to return the ball to the opposing team, no player can touch twice in a row, winner is the first to twenty-five, must win by two points," Ned recited.

"How do you know that?" Parker asked.

Ned shrugged. "My mom used to play, and she likes to watch it."

"Has anyone actually played before?" Tony asked.

"Only in high school gym class," Parker said.

"Well this'll be interesting," Steve remarked. His volleyball training extended only to 'Don't let the balloon touch the floor.'

From the first serve, it was immediately clear that none of them had any technique. Without a net, they still managed to keep decent volleys going. Twelve volleys in, Steve's team was up nine to three. Parker definitely regretted asking for Bucky on his team, because he was actually the number one reason they were losing. His years of goalkeeper training made him incredibly athletic, but his reflexes were so ingrained that it was impossible for him to adapt his technique to volleyball. Every time the ball came for him, he either tried to catch it or he punched it as far away as he could, and most of those times it landed out of bounds.

"Bucky, stop goalkeeping!" Parker cried after he sent yet another ball sailing towards the ocean.

"I can't turn it off!"

Parker shook his head. "I regret everything."

It was Steve's turn to serve. He hit the ball towards Bucky's left, and he took off in a classic goalkeeping leap. Bucky hit the ground hard on his left side, but got the ball just enough that Parker could slide in and hit it to Ned, who slammed it over to Steve's side and scored a point.

"You're so extra," he told Bucky.

"You're the one who makes a Picasso every time you play Pictionary." Bucky stood up with a grimace and briefly massaged his stump.

"Picasso is a painter," Steve countered.

"Whatever."

Steve, Bruce, and Tony ended up winning twenty-five to thirteen. By then, the tide had eaten away at a third of their court and they agreed not to draw it out through another set. On the last point, Tony had been forced to run partially into the water for the ball, and he stepped on an, "Unfairly sharp seashell," per his description. He didn't seem too pressed about it, but Parker saw the first trickle of blood wash away into the ocean and flipped out, racing back to their chairs and pulling a fully-fledged first aid kit out of his bag.

"Parker, relax," Tony assured, as the younger man dragged him along by the forearm.

"Tony, you are on bloodthinners and you're bleeding. I will not relax."

"It's not a deep cut. I'm fine."

Parker ignored him. Tony conceded to holding pressure on the cut, and it stopped within minutes. "Why do you have such a big first aid kit in your beach bag anyway?"

"Overprotective parents. Well, more accurately, parents who watched one too many Discovery Channel Shark Weeks. There's vinegar in here too for jellyfish stings," Parker explained, holding up a container of vinegar the size of a standard shampoo bottle. He pulled out antiseptic supplies and bandages and dressed the cut on Tony's foot, which was only maybe an inch long and fairly shallow. Steve, curious, delved through the kit while Parker worked. He found way more gauze, band-aids, Latex gloves, an ice pack, alcohol wipes, and tweezers.

"This is impressive," he said.

Parker shrugged. "My dads packed it." He finished doctoring Tony's cut and they all decided to head back to the house to clean up before dinner. While Parker was in the shower, Tony showed them the Star Wars themed cake he and Bruce had picked out. Steve offered his help preparing dinner, and together he, Bruce, and Tony made some of Parker's favorite foods. As they worked, Bucky sat at the table making conversation and massaging his stump. Steve knew his phantom pain acted up sometimes, and figured all the activity just rendered his nerve endings extra sensitive. By the time Parker came into the kitchen, they had several platters already out. Between the six of them, they made short work of the food. Parker's reaction to the cake was exactly what Steve would expect from him; overly gracious and completely adorable. And that night, he learned that drunk Parker was even more adorable.

"Can I confess something?" Parker asked with none of his usual hesitation. He took another miniscule sip of his lemon drop while waiting for an answer.

"Of course," Tony said.

"This is totally bonkers and backwards, but today I learned that I'm actually self-conscious about my lack of scars."

Everyone burst out laughing.

Parker pouted. "I'm serious! You guys are so…badass."

"Parker, it's not a contest," Steve assured.

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "Besides, just because something leaves a physical mark doesn't mean it was any harder to endure than something that didn't."

"I gotta say, though, you saying that makes me feel a lot better about myself," Bucky said. "Sometimes I need a reminder that able-bodied people can feel self-conscious too."

Parker raised his glass to him. "Any time, brother."