Bucky's POV
"Steve!" I grumbled at him, we'd been roommates for about six months now, and we were now best friends. "Let me out of this pocket now." That's another thing we'd been doing, if Steve needed to walk around the apartment a lot I'd chill in his shirt pocket, just until he didn't need to anymore.
"Sorry Bucky." Steve said as he scooped me out of his pocket. He set me next to his sketch book on the table, he had been getting his art supplies and had forgotten I was in his pocket when he started drawing. "Hey Bucky?" He asked suddenly.
"Yeah?" I said back, knowing he probably had another question about my life. "Do you ever wish you were, you know? Bigger?" He asked, I contemplated the question before saying. "No, I was made this way for a reason. I'm the only one who can be me, so I guess I'm perfect for the job I need to do."
"How'd you get so smart?" Steve asked in frustration, I grinned. "My mom used to say, 'there is nothing so foolishly silly and vain, then to wish for something you can never attain.' I've lived long enough to see it's true, that's all." Steve smiled and said. "You need to stop being so reasonable, or I'll have to make you my conscience and keep you in my pocket all the time." We laughed as he drew, he was drawing a plane in a battle.
"Still want to join the army?" I piped up, he nodded. "I just, feel called to do it, Bucky. I shouldn't do less than anybody else on the battlefield." He said confidently.
"I guess, but Steve?" I asked, he looked up. "What Bucky?" He responded. "Please," I said. "Promise me, if you do get in, you'll take me with you." He looked startled. "Bucky, if I die, you'll die." He said. "I'm with you till the end of the line." I responded, finally, Steve said. "I promise Bucky, you'll be right there."
