Steve and Bucky had been going steady for about four months now. They'd just gotten through a rough winter where Steve got pneumonia—again—and had spent most of his time coughing up a lung until Bucky was able to come home from work and take care of him.
Every weekend, Bucky went out with his buddies to the club. He spent those evenings dancing with pretty dames, pretending to be interested and that he had plans to take them home or to a back alley that night. But he never did any of those things—he
always cut the dame off as soon as his friends were gone or out of sight. Then he'd leave the club and when the guys at work asked about it the following Monday, he'd always make up some story about what him and the dame did. Once he'd leave the club,
he would always hurry home to Steve. The moment he was through the door, he was apologizing to Steve and saying how much he missed him. Not five minutes through the door, and both of them would have their pants unzipped and their hands all over the
other.

Bucky stopped going to the club as much when most of his friends from work were recruited and sent off to Europe to go fight in the war. Personally, Bucky didn't really want to go fight—he wanted to stay home in good ol' Brooklyn with his best guy. But
he knew he couldn't keep running from being drafted—not when he was a fit young man with a job that involved a lot of heavy lifting. Steve, on the other hand, had a strong sense of patriotism. Bucky knew that Steve was much too small and sickly to
ever get into the military, but that didn't stop Steve from trying. Neither did Bucky begging Steve to stop. It was something —really the only thing—they ever truly argued about. Bucky would beg Steve to stay home where it was safe, and Steve would
always argue that he had to protect his country, same as any other guy. To Bucky, Steve's frailness had never been off-putting like it was to everyone else. It was part of Steve's beauty. Steve had always appreciated that Bucky treated him like
everyone else; it was part of the reason Steve had fallen in love with Bucky. So it was always a touchy subject when Bucky tried to convince Steve that he'd die if he went off to fight in the war.

Bucky shook his head in frustration, deciding it wasn't worth thinking about it at the moment. He was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, while Steve ran around the room getting ready for church. Even though Bucky grew up in an orphanage run by nuns,
he'd never felt a religious pull. He didn't much believe that there was a God. But Steve's mom had raised her son to be religious, which was only further enforced when she had died and Steve landed in the same orphanage as Bucky. For Steve's sake,
Bucky attended Sunday mass with his best friend every week without fail. No matter how much he'd had to drink the night before (not that Bucky really had any reason to drink nowadays).

Steve had on his Sunday suit—his only sort of formal clothing—and threw Bucky's dress shirt at him. "Buck, get out of bed and get dressed. We can't be late!" Sighing, Bucky dragged himself out of bed. He slept naked— the way he'd preferred since
he was a teenager —now that him and Steve were together. Steve tore his eyes away from the sight of Bucky and continued to busy himself with getting ready for church.

At church, Steve always elbowed Bucky if he fell asleep. It wasn't because Steve wanted to push religion onto Bucky (he knew how Bucky felt about religion), but because he didn't want Bucky to appear rude. They always walked home in silence, Steve clearly
deep in thought about what was talked about during the service. When they got home, they never touched for the rest of the day. Bucky was okay with that—he knew Steve needed time to sort through how he felt about his religion being against him and
Bucky being together. Sometimes he caught Steve praying to God for forgiveness and understanding. When Bucky asked Steve about how their feelings for each other conflicted with Steve's religion, Steve replied thoughtfully, "I think God wants
us to find love and happiness. I'm not so sure he really cares with whom we do it with, just as long as we're happy." Bucky liked the idea that, if there was a God, He was someone like that. So Bucky never complained about going to Sunday mass
with Steve, and he always accompanied his best friend. He respected Steve's wishes to not touch or kiss during most of Sunday. And he was always happy to jump right back into their usual rhythm the following Monday morning.

Underneath the newspaper in Bucky's hand, there was a document. Bucky pulled the document out from underneath the newspaper and stared at it for what felt like hours. 107th Infantry Regiment, it read. He'd been drafted into the military and had
returned from basic training about a week ago, and had just received orders to go get his uniform. It had taken Bucky a few days to gather up the courage to tell Steve when he'd first been drafted. The result was Steve trying even harder to get in.
Tonight was Bucky's last night before he was shipped off for Europe. For appearance's sake, they had a double date tonight.

For whatever reason, it upset Bucky that his uniform fit perfectly. It upset him that he looked so damn good in it, because it told him that he was meant to be a soldier. After standing up straight and at attention for three months at basic training,
Bucky let his shoulders sag now. He scuffed the ground with his fancy new military dress shoes on his walk home.

"You just don't know when to give up, do you?" Bucky heard someone say as he rounded a corner.

"I can do this all day." Steve's voice replied. Bucky groaned, knowing that Steve had gotten himself into yet another fight he can't win. He took off toward the sound of their voices in a back alley.

Steve stood with his face slightly bloodied and his perfectly combed hair out of place. Furious, Bucky grabbed the other guy and beat him until he ran off. Still angry, he turned to Steve and said, "Sometimes, I think you like getting punched."

"I had 'em on the ropes."

It was then that Bucky noticed Steve's denied enlistment form on the ground. He picked it up to look it over. Nothing was different from what the other ones always said. 4F. The form contained a list of all Steve's health issues. "How many
times is this?" Bucky asked, not really wanting to know the answer. "Oh you're from Paramus now? You know it's illegal to lie on your enlistment form." He reminded Steve for the umpteenth time. "Seriously, Jersey?" Steve looked up then, seeing
Bucky in uniform.

Ignoring the question, Steve asked one of his own, "Did you get your orders?"

"The one-o-seventh. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping for England first thing tomorrow." Bucky could see the way Steve's face dropped when he heard when his best friend was shipping out. It was too soon, Steve's expression said.

"I should be going." Steve mumbled.

"C'mon man! It's my last night. Gotta get you cleaned up."

"Why? Where are we going?" Steve wondered.
Bucky hadn't actually told Steve about the double date yet—he never did until last minute so that Steve couldn't find a way to worm his way out of them.

"The future." Bucky responded before handing his best guy the newspaper he'd tucked under his orders. The ad on the newspaper read World Exposition of Tomorrow. "You're about to be the last eligible man in New York. You know, there's three
and a half million women here." Bucky continued, trying to lighten the mood.

"Hell, I'd settle for just one." He knew Steve was referring to him, but he couldn't act on it in public.

The best he could do was reply, "Good thing I took care of that." He snuck Steve a tiny smirk.

Hiding his smile, Steve decided to ask more about the double date, "What did you tell her about me?"

"Only the good stuff."

Steve scoffed as they turned down a back alley. It was the middle of a weekday, so most people were at work. Bucky took Steve's hand, causing Steve to flinch and nearly pull away because they weren't in the privacy of their apartment. "Hey,"
Bucky said softly, and then again when Steve wouldn't look at him, "Hey, Stevie, it doesn't matter what they think. You're with me. You already got me." Steve nodded, squeezing Bucky's hand in his as they continued down the dirty alleyway.
Steve knew he had Bucky; the problem was he just didn't know for how much longer.

That night at the fair on Coney Island, Steve wandered off from Bucky and their "dates". As interesting as Howard Stark's genius flying cars were, the fact was that his date wasn't the least bit interested in him, and he hated seeing a girl
pine over Bucky—much less two girls. He found himself standing in front of another recruitment center, imagining himself in the military uniform.

"You really gonna do this again?" His best guy's voice asked softly from behind him. He turned to see that Bucky had temporarily ditched their dates to find Steve.

Steve shrugged. "Well, it's a fair. I'm gonna try my luck."

"As who? Steve from Ohio? They'll catch you. Worse, they'll actually take you."

Narrowing his eyes, Steve said, "Look, I know you don't think I can do this—"

Cutting him off, Bucky exclaimed, "This isn't a back alley, Steve! It's war!" He hadn't wanted to fight with Steve on his last night, but he also wanted Steve to be safe.

"I know it's a war. You don't have to tell me."

Exasperated, Bucky asked like he had a billion times before, "Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs—"

"What am I gonna do? Collect scrap metal..."

"Yes!" Bucky replied hotly, hoping that Steve would see the importance of that job and how he could still contribute to the fight by doing jobs like that.

"...in my little red wagon?" Steve finished.

"Why not?" Bucky didn't think it sounded so bad.

"I'm not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky. Bucky, c'mon! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That's what you don't understand. This isn't about me." Steve's blue eyes were big and earnest as he stared
down Bucky.

"Right. Cause you got nothing to prove. Don't do anything stupid until I get back." Bucky muttered that last part as he started walking back toward the girls.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you." Steve retorted.

Bucky sighed and came back to give Steve a hug, "You're a punk."

"Jerk. Be careful." Steve replied in a lighter tone before calling, "Don't win the war 'til I get there!"

Bucky returned to the girls, pretending that he was excited to be reunited with them again.

When Steve got back to the apartment that night, he decided not to tell Bucky about Dr. Erskine. He waited on the couch, just like he usually did back when Bucky went to the club, sketchbook in his lap. This time he was sketching Bucky in his new uniform
because he couldn't get out of his head how strapping his best guy looked in it. Steve turned his head to the soft sound of the door closing as Bucky walked in with a tired look. "Those two dames just wouldn't take no for an answer. It must be
the uniform, huh?"

Steve stood up, grabbing the collar of Bucky's uniform and pulling him down into a kiss. Breaking away briefly he agreed, "Yeah, it's definitely the uniform." He pulled Bucky down for a kiss again and the two spent the next several minutes trying
to get Bucky out of said uniform.

Bucky wouldn't let Steve walk him down to the train station to see him off. "I don't think I'd be able to get on without giving you one last goodbye kiss." Steve could only nod in understanding. That morning they couldn't go two minutes without
kissing each other. But, finally, it was time for Bucky to leave. They kissed slowly and tenderly in front of the door. Bucky gave Steve one final hug before he stepped toward the door. "I love you, punk."

"I love you, too, jerk. 'Til the end of the line." Steve replied.

"'Til the end of the line." Bucky agreed before stepping out of their apartment and heading off.