A/N: :) Happy weekend.

Steve sat at his desk staring out the window.

In his line of business, he had run into a some reprehensible scumbags. Yet most of them, serial rapists, child molesters, and murderers, had someone sitting in the courtroom, there to love them in spite of everything.

Regardless of what he had or hadn't done, even on paper, Bucky was far from the worst monster Steve had ever heard of. Yet, there was no one on the outside rooting for him. No one to offer support. Steve had asked his ties at the prison and confirmed no one had visited his friend aside from his public defender.

Steve thought of Bucky in high school—all smiles and surrounded by friends. He clenched his hands in fists on his armrest, overwhelmed by the itch to do something. Steve believed in justice. He'd dedicated his life to fighting for it. He wasn't used to being on this side of the bench—with the family and friends who were helpless to do anything but watch as someone else decided their loved one's fate.

He'd already done what he could. His hands were tied now.

Someone burst through his office door with a crash. "Rogers, what the hell?"

Steve took a few seconds to count to ten and take a deep breath before he turned his chair away from the window to look back toward the door. "What's up, Tony?"

"Oh, don't give me that innocent look, golden boy." Tony threw himself down in the chair opposite Steve. He looked genuinely irritated.

"You going to tell me what your problem is?"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Okay, if you're going to play it like that, fine. See, I thought I knew you. You're one of those sweet guys. Maybe a little cocky and self-righteous sometimes, but hey, who am I to say anything about that?"

Steve sat back in his chair, trying not to smirk at that. Tony calling anyone cocky and self-righteous was hypocritical as hell.

"You were the only one to figure out I've been working eighty to ninety hour weeks the last four months running. One pain in the ass case after another. Bam, bam, bam." Tony shook his head. "So when you handed this case back to me, I thought it was because you figured out it'd be a cake walk. I could have phoned in that case.

"But then, this morning, I get a phone call. All of a sudden this punk-ass who's only had public defenders all his miserable life is being represented by one of the biggest, ball-busting defense attorneys in the city. Natasha Romanoff, Steve? Really? The Black Widow?"

Tony looked downright wounded, and any amusement Steve felt at the rant was long gone. He ducked his head and looked down at his desk. "I told Fury it was a conflict of interest for me to take the case."

"There's a difference between a conflict of interest and actively helping the other side." Tony threw one arm up and out in question. "Explain this one to me, Captain America. Why are you suddenly on the side of the scumbag?"

Steve winced and breathed in through his nose to cover the spark of irritation that went through him. "He's not a scumbag."

There was a long silence, and Steve could feel Tony's eyes on him. "This man ripped a woman to shreds like a damn animal, and he's not a scumbag."

Now Steve did look up, his jaw taut. "Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

Tony stared back, his head cocked to the side as he studied Steve. "How do you know him?" he asked, his tone blunt.

"You were wrong. I don't know every hooligan in Brooklyn. But I do know this one. We were friends. I haven't seen him since high school, but we were friends."

When Tony looked at him like that, Steve would swear he could read his mind. "That's not it," Tony said. "I know you and Romanoff have history, but you hate going against her as much as any of us do. You're not a dick. You wouldn't have pit her against this office at all for some guy you haven't seen since you were a skinny, dweeby kid. Oh yeah, don't think I didn't look your high school photos up a long time ago."

"That's...really creepy, Tony."

"It never hurts to have blackmail material." Tony shrugged. "Don't change the subject. The point is, this guy is more than an old buddy." He paused a beat. "First boyfriend?"

And, of course, Steve hesitated just a beat too long before he answered. "No. He—"

"Oh. Ohhh." Tony clapped his hands and stood up, pointing at Steve. "Be still my beating heart. Baby Steven Rogers had a bad boy boyfriend? Did he wear a leather jacket? Drive a motorcycle? Maybe he snuck you into the theater for a date and stole you a box of candy? Huh?"

"No. I was the bad boy," Steve said, slamming a palm down on his desk.

That shut Tony up. The other man stared, and Steve sighed, running a hand over his face as irritation drained away, replaced with the confused wreck his thoughts had been lately. "And he wasn't my boyfriend," he said quietly. "But he was the one who… I don't know. I guess he saved me from myself. I was angry, and I was stupid. I did some really stupid things."

"What kind of stupid things?" Tony asked, sitting down across from him again.

Steve just shook his head.

~Sixteen years Earlier~

Bucky was quiet today.

The last three months—since basketball tryouts—he and Steve hung out all the time. Usually, Bucky preferred to be out and about. But it was raining today. The weather was getting colder. Soon there'd be nothing but indoors.

"You don't like coming to my house, do you?" Steve asked, watching as Bucky flopped down on his bed.

Bucky shrugged. "It's a house same as any."

"But you always get all weird."

Bucky was quiet for a few seconds. He pushed himself up to a sitting position. "Okay, look. I'm not tryin' to say nothing about no one's Mom, ya know? It's just that your mom kinda bugs me. Not me me. But she bugs me because of how she treats you."

Steve furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Ah, I dunno." Bucky rolled his shoulders, looking uncomfortable, but he didn't drop it. "Just she's kind of not-mom-like. She's cold. It's like she doesn't even look at you or really talk to you except when you're right in front of her."

"Oh," Steve said. He sat on the floor, looking away from him out the room's tiny window.

"Man, sorry. I guess that was a shitty thing to say about your mom. Just…" Steve heard Bucky swallow hard. "She doesn't hit you does she?"

Steve's head snapped to the side and he stared at his friend. "What? No." He shrugged and looked away. "But maybe she should."

"What are you on about?"

Another shrug. "Can't really blame her for not liking me, is all." His heart was pounding so fast. There was a lump in his throat that made it painful to breathe. "I killed her kid."

Silence met his announcement. Steve's skin crawled, and he bowed his head in old, old shame. He really hadn't meant to say anything about it. First of all, he hadn't figured out what he needed to about Bucky; the whole reason he'd sought him out in the first place. Secondly, well…

Bucky had gotten kind of important to Steve. It wasn't even that he had a crush on him, although that was true too. It had just been a long time since he had a friend, and now he'd gone and ruined it.

"John said you killed your brother," Bucky said. He sounded kind of dazed. "That day at tryouts."

"I don't know how he knew that," Steve said. "No one here is supposed to know that."

"When did you do it? And why? And did you go to juvie?"

"I… no. I mean, I was five."

"You were five? What the hell?"

"I was five, and my brother was three." Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "There was a gun, and I thought it was a toy."

"Oh." Bucky sounded confused. "Wait, so it was an accident."

"Well, yeah, but I shouldn't have been playing with a gun."

Bucky snorted. "Don't you think probably a gun shouldn't be anywhere a five-year-old could get to it? Man, if your mom hates you when she shoulda been watching—"

"I didn't say my mom hates me, and it was my uncle's house. It was his gun. What? A mom's gotta search every house before she brings her kids inside?"

"Hey, chill out. It's cool." Bucky slid off the bed onto the floor next to Steve and bumped his shoulder. "That's a really shitty thing to have happen, but I don't think you killed your brother. I hope your mom doesn't say that."

"She doesn't. I think she just thinks it."

"Well, that's stupid. You were five. She should think your uncle killed your brother."

"She doesn't talk to my uncle anymore." He shook his head. "Anyway, if you don't like hanging out here, why don't we ever hang out at your house?"

Bucky got a strange look in his eyes, and he faced forward. He scuffed his shoe on the floor. "Alex, my stepdad, works from home. He's busy. I don't like to bug him."

Steve turned that over in his head, and for the millionth time, he asked himself if he'd really heard what he thought he had. He decided to push one more time. "It's not like we'd bug him. We'd just go up to your room."

"It's not a good idea, okay?"

"Okay. Sorry," Steve said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

Bucky seemed moody, and the silence was awkward. But after a minute or so, Bucky bumped his shoulder again. "Hey, you should ask that chick Peggy out to the dance. I think she digs you."

"I'm not going to the dance."

"Why not? It's fun times." He ruffled Steve's hair playfully, and Steve ducked away. Bucky laughed. "Come on. Girls get all sappy, and you'd definitely get a kiss or forty. I bet you've never even kissed someone."

"I have," Steve said, his cheeks flaming.

"Oh yeah? Who."

The heat in Steve's cheeks rose several degrees. "Nunya."

"Don't give me that shit. Tell."

"No one you'd know anyway. It was at my last school."

"Aww. That's cute. Anyway. You might even get laid." He ruffled his hair again. "Ask her."

"I don't like"—girls—"dancing."

Bucky snorted. "That's not the point. Did I mention the getting laid part?"

~Bucky - Present Day~

Bucky had been trying to remember the first time Steve meddled in his life. It was an annoying habit of his, as he recalled. Steve had a million annoying habits. At least he had when they were kids.

"What are you smiling at, Mr. Barnes?"

Bucky's head snapped up at the crisp tone. He blinked at his new attorney. "Am I smiling?"

"You were up until about two seconds ago, yeah."

He rubbed his hands over his face. "I didn't mean to."

"Did you hear what I said?" she asked. He thought there was the smallest of smiles playing at the edge of her lips, but he couldn't be sure. She was a frightening woman.

"Uh. Yeah," he said.

"Mm hmm. And do you have any questions?"

"No."

She pursed her lips and looked at him. "Mr. Barnes, if you're not going to take this seriously—"

"I do take this seriously, okay?" He ran his hand through his hair and huffed. "Look, I just do what you tell me to. I got that part down, believe me. I smile and nod and look contrite, and I do the time they give me."

"Are you contrite?"

"What?"

"Contrition is for guilty people, Mr. Barnes. If we're going to register a non-guilty plea, guilty is not how you should look."

"Yes, ma'am."

Ms. Romanoff folded her hands on top of the table and fixed him with a look so cool, Bucky actually shivered. He sat up straighter. "Mr. Barnes, I've read your files. I'm aware of the level of attorney you're used to. I'm also aware your typical transgression is more along the line of possession, petty theft, and, ohh..." She raised her eyebrows, looking down at one folder. "Grand theft auto."

"It was a really pretty car."

"And you were high."

"I was… a lot of things."

"But never a murderer."

Bucky looked down at the table. His heart ached. "No." The word came out as barely more than a whisper.

"It's not your typical crime, and I'm not your typical attorney."

"No, ma'am. I'm sorry."

"They call me the Black Widow."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Because I'm a serious attorney."

"Yes, ma'am."

Her lips twitched. "Although, doing what I tell you is a good decision regardless, I have to admit."

"Yes, ma'am."

She chuffed. "You can call me Natasha."

He raised an eyebrow. "Because we're friends?"

"My friends call me Nat."

He found himself fighting a smile. "Okay, Natasha."

She nodded, looking satisfied. "So let's try this again. Do you have any questions?"

"One."

"Which is?"

"How do you know Steve Rogers?"

Now she grinned. "That's exactly what I most wanted to ask you, Mr. Barnes."

"James."

"Because we're friends?"

"My friends call me Bucky."

"What does Steve call you?"

Bucky looked down again. "Buck."

"I see." She paused, considering him. "I thought Steve Rogers was the most uptight, son of a bitch I'd ever met. He gives me a run for my money in the courtroom, and I lost to him, so of course I hated him." She rolled her eyes. "But I stuck my foot in my mouth at the worst possible time in front of the worst possible judge. Luckily for me, he was watching. He saved my ass."

"So you owe him."

She snorted. "That was three years ago. I'm doing this because I lost a bet."

"You lost a bet to Steve?"

"I did. And this is how he spent it."

"Uh huh." Bucky bit the inside of his cheek.

"So, let's go over this one more time."

A/N: I have discovered that the Avenger Superhero names work really well as hot shot lawyer names.