Hey. I'm alive. My new job just doesn't let me write while working. Also, I'm woefully behind on this project, and I've only just finished January.
Originally posted to tumblr 2016-03-25.
/ Day 26 (2016.01.26)
/ noun
/ 1. excess; overabundance:
/ nimiety of mere niceties in conversation.
/ 2. an instance of this.
Most everyone in the neighborhood knew Steve Rogers by name and/or sight. Bucky knew him by sight, but hadn't realized that all the gossip he'd heard was about that tiny little punk that had no more common sense than a rock. He'd had to break up more fights between that kid and guys much bigger than him than he could count.
"I had 'im on the ropes," the small man would always cough, usually with a black eye and a split lip, and wheezing with what sounded like asthma.
"'Course you did," Bucky would always reply. He'd offered to help the man home in the beginning, but he was always refused, so he eventually stopped.
It took a surprising not-fight-related encounter for Bucky to actually learn the name of the punk he was always saving from himself.
He'd glimpsed a familiar mop of blond hair in the back of the drug store when he went to stock up on prophylactics, and nearly dropped the bunch when he saw the man put down the nebulizer he'd been holding and pass a depressingly small wad of bills to two dirty children who were counting coins between them and eyeing the soaps. The idiot walked away before they even recovered from their shock, and Bucky bolted for the nebulizer he'd put down.
His purchases were rung up and paid for in record time, and then he was jogging down the street after the blond kid.
"Hey, you forgot this," he said by way of greeting, shoving the box into the too-thin chest before turning and trying to bolt before he could be stopped and get his purchase thrown back in his face.
Before he could get away, fingers curled around his wrist and kept him in place. Bucky turned to find bright blue eyes frowning contemplatively at him.
"Steve Rogers," the kid said, surprising him. Not just because he spoke, but because of course the troublemaker he was always saving and the troublemaker that was always getting talked about was the same one.
"Bucky Barnes," he replied automatically. His ma would be proud of his manners.
"…Thanks."
Steve Rogers was both the devil and an angel. He was pure and lovely and a fucking spit-fire taking on things too big for his size because nothing was too big for his fighter's spirit.
They were roommates within a month, and Bucky was in love in far less time. When he eyed Steve as he cooked, bruise on his temple and soft smile on his face, he wondered if he hadn't fallen the first time he'd stopped a bully from beating down a little guy defending some lady's honour.
FINIS
2016 10M WotD Master Post (themadkatter13fanfiction tumblr, /10M-WotD-2016).
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