He heard the crash of a scrawny body colliding with metal trash-cans long before he rounded the corner. He sighed, straightening his uniform cap, and waded in.

Goddammit Steve.

Bucky had been looking for Steve all afternoon. Last minute orders had come through that morning. He was going to be a sniper for the army, somewhere in England. The 107th was shipping out tomorrow.

24-hours. Be ready to report.

He was going to war.

Bucky had been planning to wait for the show to let out; maybe take Steve to get a burger or something - break it to him gently that he was getting left behind.

There were two pretty girls meeting them at the Stark Expo later on for a double-date, so they could have some fun on his last night in town. It would be a proper send-off celebration, and he'd been talking Steve up to the blonde one all morning.

He's a great guy, you're gonna love him. Real smart, heart'a gold.

Is he cute? Lorraine, the blonde, had wanted to know.

How should he know? Sure, I guess?

Is he tall?

… Not quite as tall as me. Bucky evaded. Dames tended to back out when he was too straightforward about his friend's… less than athletic stature.

He a sergeant too?

What, Steve? Nah, they needed him here, holding down the fort.

He must be real important.

Sure he is. Neighborhood'd fall apart without ol' Steve.

When he'd heard the familiar sounds of a scuffle coming from the alley behind the theater, though; he'd resigned himself to breaking up yet another one of Steve's ill-advised fights, instead.

Predictably, he could see the overgrown creep in a cheap blazer, bruising his knuckles on Steve's bony face at the end of the alley. Braced like a sad excuse for a boxer, Steve was already bloodied and filthy. He didn't show any signs of backing down.

Steve went down and stayed down just as Bucky reached them.

Bucky was furious. He hauled the jerk back by the shoulder and spun him around, giving him a hard shove back down the alley.

"Hey! Pick on somebody your own size." He snarled, disgusted. His eyes were cold and steady and he was itching for an excuse to put some of that basic training to use.

Bucky hated bullies. Hated the overgrown creeps that would never leave the little guy with the big mouth alone. Hated that Steve always seemed to find them. Hated that he'd have to leave this dumb kid on his own against the world in a matter of hours.

Fortunately, the bully was stupid. He took a swing, and Bucky socked him, hard. He kicked him in the rear for good measure, just to add insult to injury.

He was tempted to really lay into the guy and rough him up until he was just as battered as Steve... but he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be getting into street-brawls in uniform.

He let it go when the bully fled. Steve was a mess. He decided he was a lot more worried about that.

"Sometimes… I think you like getting punched." Bucky sighed, picking up Steve's dropped enlistment papers as the blonde scarecrow picked himself up out of the garbage.

Steve hated having to be rescued. Hated that for all his best intentions, he still couldn't hold his own in a fight. This made the third time in a week Bucky had had to come in after him, and he hated it.

"I had him on the ropes." Steve muttered

He gingerly tested a busted lip against the back of his skinny hand, yanking it away at the sting.

"How many times is this?" Bucky chose to pretend he hadn't heard, glancing over the form. He was unsurprised to see it was almost identical to every other version of it he'd seen. Almost. "Oh, you're from Paramus now?" He raised an eyebrow.

It was pointless, but he had to say it anyway. Had to try to get through to stubborn, brave, well intentioned, stupid – stupid - Steve.

"You know it's illegal to lie on the enlistment form. … And seriously, Jersey?" He was almost disappointed. He'd half expected him to be Steve from California by now.

Steve glanced up and paused, whatever he'd been about to say dying on his lips. His eyes travelled up and down the khaki uniform and his expression shifted just enough that it was clear he'd put two and two together.

"... You get your orders?" Steve had never been very good at faking 'casual'. That he was crushed was written in the sudden slight sag in his shoulders, the way he forgot to brush slimy old coffee-grounds off of his shirt.

Bucky tried to smile. He wasn't sure it was working.

"107th… Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England, first thing in the morning."

Steve looked away.

"I should be going…" He said quietly.

When he looked up again, Bucky met his eyes in silence: a mutual unspoken moment of understanding.

I don't want to go.

I want to go with you.

I don't want to leave you alone.

I don't want to be left alone.

Be careful.

You too.

Bucky broke the silence first, pushing his usual charming smile back on as he threw an arm around Steve's bony shoulders; guiding him out of the alley with all the good cheer he could muster.

"C'mon! It's my last night." He pulled back at the smell radiating off of his friend, and the feel of something cold and sticky wiping off onto his hand from the kid's filthy jacket. "Gotta get you cleaned up."

"Why? Where're we going?"

With a flourish, Bucky shoved a flier at him, a huge photo of the Stark Expo grounds featured front and center on it.

"The future."