Chapter Title: Boys will be Boys
Author: Sam and Dani
Story: The Omega Trials: 02 of ?
Series: The Omega Rights (part two)
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Translation
Kurde - Damn - Polish
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Setting: AU: Saturday, July 25, 1931: Brooklyn, New York, United States of America
The day had been incredibly hot in the city, sweltering among the tenements and multi-storied boarding houses. Too many people and too little ready cash made for a lack of distractions from the baking July sun. At least the children seemed able to find occupation during the heatwave: they swam in the nearby river or chased the ice hauler or clambered down root cellar steps to hide in the cool, dark depths until an adult found and retrieved them, reluctant and petulant. Early July had been bearable, even enjoyable, but this late in the month, with three days of straight out unrelieved heat, made patience short and tempers shorter.
Bucky Barnes, fourteen, and Steve Rogers, just thirteen, perched on a brownstone's graveled roof, had seemed to escape the general stifling atmosphere of Brooklyn. They sat on an old plank extended between two large soap boxes, dangling their feet and ankles in Sarah Rogers's wash tub, occasionally splashing the warming water at one another. The thin blond boy whose mother had allowed them the use of her tub, grinned and laughed, vibrant blue eyes dancing, looking up at the taller, older boy beside him. He watched as the boy with blue-grey eyes pushed his worn cap back, exposing his lightly olive complexion and dark brown hair, cut short but with a tendency to curl as it got longer.
For a long time the pair had been the same height, but over the last winter, Bucky had suddenly sprouted, gaining almost half a foot over his friend. It had to do with more than pubescent hormones versus lack of funds for proper nutrition, however. The hard truth was that Bucky had perfect health and high energy, while Steve had been through a series of drastic childhood illnesses, including scarlet fever when he was eight and rheumatic fever just last winter. The result was a too thin, weaker body and lung capacity, a compromised immune system, and increasing signs of a heart problem that would keep many a child stuck inside doing tame tasks.
Steve, however, was not most children. He spent his fair share of time reading dime novels and news-sheets procured by Bucky and books from the lending library borrowed by his mother. But he also liked to be active and so roamed the streets with Bucky, imagining grand adventures and mysterious explorations. His best friend of a year and a half always kept an eye on the smaller boy, to make sure their rambling didn't push Steve's health too far. The heart palpitations and dizziness were troubling enough, but Steve's lungs were what terrified his mother and his doctors the most. He'd been diagnosed with asthma, something which had no cure or preventatives. All that could be done when his lungs seized was get the boy to the hospital as quick as possible and pray he didn't die. Thus, during school days, Steve was required to sit on the bench or sidelines during physical education classes, marking him a sissy-boy to some of the crueler boys in class.
But this day, sitting on the roof with their feet in the ever warming water, neither boy thought of such negative things as schoolyard bullies or breathing attacks or the long hard hours Sarah worked at the Brooklyn Home for Consumptives. Rather, they laughed over Bucky's impressions of some of the prissy girls who'd been flirting with a pack of boys over at the local sweet shop: rich girls, coyly using their parasols and delicate fans, who'd made disapproving faces when they'd noticed the pair of boys in common rough clothes without shoes, not caring that being barefoot had been a choice not a necessity. The pack of older boys also sneered at the ragged pair, but Bucky and Steve merely ignored the group, bought their penny candy, and hurried back to the privacy of Sarah's apartment house rooftop.
"And did you see those shoes?" Steve asked on a laugh. "How can they stand being so pinched up? Do they even have toes?"
Bucky snickered. "As pinched as their sour faces. Looked like the lot of 'em were suckin' lemons." The brunet boy scrunched his face up, puckering his lips as if imitating a fish. His words came out a bit jumbled, making Steve laugh all the harder. "And they go around like a carp making sucky faces at everyone."
Steve waved a hand helplessly in the air. "They look like they've been kissing fish!"
Mischief dancing in his eyes, Bucky giggled. "I wonder if those fellas even like kissing those fish girls." Still talking while puckered, he grabbed Steve by the sides of the face and pulled him over. "Come give me a fishy kissy . . ." Their lips met.
And both boys pulled back, laughing at the absurdity of it.
"How . . . how . . ." Bucky tried to speak through his giggles, "how was being kissed by a fish, Stevie?" He held an arm around his abdomen as he gasped for air.
Steve laughed just as hard. "Why don't you see?" he asked and pulled Bucky in for a retaliatory kiss, puckering up and planting his rosy lips directly over Bucky's slightly paler ones.
The other boy pulled away and snickered. "At least you ain't cold and wet, Stevie," he giggled. "Betcha those dames are, though. All cold and fishy and nasty. And did'ja smell them? Definitely fish . . . flowery fish!"
Wiping tears from his brilliant blue eyes, Steve nodded and chuckled. His olfactory had always been his keenest sense. "Yeah, but I thought maybe the fellas worked down by the docks. That was the girls? Ick! When I get a girl, I'm gonna make sure she don't smell like no fish!" He stated, laughing softly.
"Yeah, but you ain't gonna get a girl if you kiss her like a fish, Steve." Bucky grinned back, grey-blue eyes dancing at the continued joke. "You need to kiss like a normal fella. Like they do in the flicks."
"Really? You think I can't do that? Watch this." Steve was always up for a dare, never backing down from a challenge. So, in order to prove his kissing ability, despite having had no practice, Steve grabbed Bucky by the front of his shirt and pulled him in, sealing his mouth over his best friend's lips. Neither boy laughed as Steve slowly leaned back, watching Bucky intently, unsure what to say suddenly. He only knew that it had felt . . . good.
Blinking slowly, Bucky nodded. "Yeah, I guess you can kiss. It certainly didn't feel like a fish, Steve. My turn." And Bucky startled the smaller blond by slipping a hand behind his head and pulling him back in for a solid kiss, tilting his head. After a slightly longer time, Bucky broke the kiss and tilted his head down, leaning his forehead on Steve's. "Wow," he murmured. "I guess kissing's not as bad as some of the pictures make it out, huh?"
Steve smiled back, breath hitching. "Not when you do it, Buck." He blinked and pulled his head away a little, looking around their private oasis as though someone might just be watching. "Um . . . Bucky?" He cleared the squeak from his throat and tried again. "Kissing's something you need to practice, right? Like drawing or stick ball?"
"Course," Bucky stated, equally breathless, as if he knew where Steve was heading with the question. The two had been inseparable since Bucky had rescued Steve from some bullies trying to steal his money in January of 1930, and often times they could finish each other's thoughts. Bucky showed that innate understanding of his best friend yet again. "So, means we'll need to practice, huh?" he asked.
With a nod and a small smile, Steve answered "Uh huh. I mean, until we find girls to practice with, right? It's okay, if we don't tell no one . . . just practicing . . . right?" He turned his vibrant eyes up to stare through long dark lashes at Bucky, who nodded slowly.
"Sure. Hey, at school they're always saying we gotta practice. And it's not like we can just walk up to a girl and ask her, without talking to her Tata first, right?" Bucky lifted his free hand and stroked Steve's cheek, the other skimming through the almost military short buzz the blond often wore for summer. "So, let's get good at it so the girls don't think we're losers or something." And Bucky leaned forward to seal his lips over Steve's once more.
Not protesting, Steve tilted his head to accommodate Bucky's mouth, whimpering softly in the back of his throat at the warm, comfortable sensation of the intimate contact with the other boy. He slid a hand down Bucky's shirt to his waist, and left it resting there, fingers caressing over the material absently.
Finally, the pair pulled away, panting for breath, smiling at each other despite red-kissed lips and the beginnings of a blush on Steve's fair skin.
"Hey, you ain't getting a fever are you, Stevie?" Bucky suddenly jumped up, pulling Steve off the make-shift bench. "Damn, it's hot out here and you ain't been drinking near enough water." He tugged Steve unprotesting from the lukewarm water in the wash tub, tripping over the other boy's feet as he tried to climb out himself. Down they went in a tangle of limbs, knocking over the tub and drenching themselves. Bucky swore, slapping at the metal tub, but Steve broke into fresh laughter, lying on the wet gravel of the roof.
"You punk," Bucky growled at the smaller boy but heaved him to his feet, lifting the metal tub with his left hand, and guided his friend towards the access door. They made their way down to Sarah Rogers' apartment, dripping wet and trying to stay quiet, despite Steve's infectious laughter. When they arrived, Bucky had to fish the key out of Steve's trouser pocket while Steve leaned into him, face buried in Bucky's shoulder, giggling still. Bucky snickered and managed to unlock the door and push it open, practically heaving Steve over the threshold. Finally, key in hand, Bucky kicked the door shut and let the wash basin fall with a loud clatter on the kitchen floor as they passed through. He dragged Steve to his bedroom.
"Gotta get you outta those wet clothes, Stevie," he grumbled and Steve nodded, leaning against the door frame, laughter having finally subsided. He gasped and Bucky shot him a worried look, so Steve waved a hand.
"I can breathe, Buck. I've just been laughing too hard." To ease his friend's tension, Steve began to strip. "And you're soaked, too, Bucky," he pointed out, receiving an eye roll before Bucky, too, slipped off his suspenders to get his shirt off.
The pair quickly divested themselves of their clothing, Bucky scooping up the mess and carrying it out to the kitchen to put in the wash basin, but neither boy knew how to actually wash the laundry, so he merely left the pile there. Since no one else was in the house, and neither boy felt uncomfortable at roaming around totally nude, Bucky simply grabbed a towel and strode back into his best friend's bedroom, kicking the door shut just in case Sarah Rogers came home early. "Here, Steve, dry your hair or your Mam'll kill me."
Steve grinned at his friend and accepted the towel, vigorously drying the golden tresses. Once done he tossed the rough cloth to the older boy, who ran it over his own dark brown locks. Finally, the pair grinned at each other, hair rumpled and damp, bodies pleasantly cool from the wetting. Bucky draped the towel over the back of Steve's desk chair, a decrepit piece of furniture rescued from the local dump but still stable enough for the small-framed teen.
"So," Bucky studied his friend's pretty features, the lush lips, long lashes, and wide impossibly blue eyes. "Wanna practice some more?" He leered at Steve who laughed in return.
"Sure," Steve answered easily, not above enjoying the feel of Bucky's mouth on his once more. It was some of the most delightful practice he'd ever gotten to do, after all. The blond led his friend to the bed and sank, nude, onto the thin, worn sheet and summer quilt.
Bucky joined him on the bed, reaching over to cup Steve's face in his strong hands. With an answering grin, he leaned in and sealed his mouth over Steve's once more, teasing his friend by suddenly running his tongue over the seam of the other boy's lips. Surprisingly, Steve whimpered as he opened his mouth, and Bucky slid his tongue inside, tempted to taste his friend, not thinking of the possible oddity of the gesture. Steve's tongue slid over Bucky's and both boys gasped at the rough-silky feeling of pleasure.
Reluctantly, Steve pulled back and studied Bucky's blue-grey eyes, a small smile still on his pale face. "Bucky?"
"Yeah, Stevie?" Bucky breathed, leaning closer.
But the sound of the outside door opening had the boys jumping apart and scrambling for something to cover their nakedness. Steve grabbed his terry cloth robe while Bucky wrapped the damp towel around his hips. They exchanged a guilty blushing grin then Steve headed for his bedroom door, opening it as he called out "Momma? Is that you?"
With a soft chuckle, Bucky sank back onto the bed and shook his head, knowing he'd have to wait for his clothes to be washed and dried before he could dress and go home. For the moment, he would just enjoy the memory of their exploratory kisses, waiting for Steve's return. Idly he wondered if he or Steve could be considered queer just because they'd been kissing. He thought about it and decided that they were fine. It wasn't like he kissed all the fellas at school or anything, and Steve had even said he'd planned on getting a girlfriend to kiss. So Bucky figured it would be okay if they just practiced with each other for the time being. A kiss didn't make one queer . . . right?
Steve's door swung slightly open, revealing the blond boy speaking not with his mother but with Bucky's sister, Becca. Groaning softly, Bucky remembered his sister did cleaning for Sarah on Saturday afternoons. He glanced around but knew he couldn't put on any of Steve's clothes; they would be too small for him now.
"Hey, Becca," Steve smiled at the pretty Barnes girl. He laughed a bit, waving his right hand to indicate his robe and wet hair. "I fell in the wash tub and dragged Bucky under, too. So, uh, we got all wet." He looked at the twelve year old girl and shrugged.
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I figured as much. You are the biggest clutz this side of Manhattan, Steve Rogers." She held no rancor in her voice, though. Becca Barnes was as good as a sister to Steve Rogers. "Well, at least you had the sense to take the wet clothes off before you got sick again. I'll clean them up and hang them to dry." She glanced around the small apartment with the wide open windows. "In this heat, they'll dry pretty quick." Then, pursing her lips much as her mother did when faced with an unpleasant chore, Becca turned to start pumping water into the large wash basin of dirty wet clothes. Almost absently, she added, "Oh, that parcel over on the table is from Mam for Jimmy. She said he could stay over the night and go to church with you and your Mam tomorrow if he helped her fix that leak on her lavatory sink she mentioned last weekend."
Nodding, Steve smiled in relief to be doing something that would take him out of Becca's way; he hated feeling like he was underfoot when the quick teen-aged girl helped around his house. "Thanks, I'll bring them to him." And he hurried back to his bedroom, easing through the smallest possible opening of the door before firmly shutting it behind, making sure it latched this time. With a grin for Bucky, Steve laid the parcel of dress clothes on his scarred wooden desk and shrugged. "It's your sister, Becca."
"Yeah," Bucky grinned back, still laying on the bed though he kept the towel on, "I heard. She does like to nag at you, don't she?"
Steve rolled his eyes and sank onto his desk chair with a shrug. "I don't mind so much, Bucky. She's awful nice."
"Whoa!" Bucky sat up with a clap of laughter. "Don't tell me you're thinking on maybe practicing kissing with Becca, Steve!"
The blond flushed bright red, even under his hair. "No!" He protested quickly, nearly shouting, then hushed down so the girl in the other room wouldn't hear him. "No way, Bucky! Never! Becca's like my sister. I couldn't kiss her." His blue eyes met Bucky's blue-grey and he continued to blush, his left hand going up to rub at the back of his neck.
Bucky flopped backwards laughing even harder. Finally he gasped, "I don't mind, Steve. I know you. You'd treat a gal right if you started courting her." Bucky glanced over and let his grin turn to a smirk. "But, of course, Tata might have other plans, being her father an' all."
With a groan, Steve shook his head and turned to face his beat up desk, still rubbing his neck. "I'm serious, Buck. I'm not interested in courting Becca. I . . . I think I'm too young to actually go courting yet, anyway." He glanced over at his older friend, who'd already started talking over the spring about the pretty girls in his language classes up at the High School building.
Snorting, Bucky merely nodded. "Sure, whatever. Give it a year or two, Stevie, and you'll be lining up behind every other guy in town to walk with her. At least, you got an advantage." At Steve's glance, Bucky grinned wickedly. "Becca don't smell like fish."
Steve dropped his face into his right hand and groaned, "Shut up, Jerk!"
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To be continued in Chapter Three: Those Little Life Lessons