In Praise of Farmer's Daughters
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who stopped to take a look at my little stories - they're short in length, but the sentiment is deeply felt. I also appreciate the comments and feedback, they made me smile. So, this one features Snotty Steve and Drafted!Bucky. A lot of it was inspired by clips of Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan from the many fan-made you tube videos that ripped my heart out. If I did anything right, it should hit you right in the feels. P.S. They're also still just friends. :)
Brooklyn - January, 1942
Bucky found Steve in a familiar place - the bench outside the local recruitment office - the one they'd originally both registered at after the signing of the Selective Service Act. They'd registered for the draft because it had been made very clear they were of age, expected to, and, of course, it was just the right thing to do.
Steve had been excited about the prospect of going to war, making a difference in the world, making things better, safer - Bucky had been ambivalent about the whole lottery thing. Steve had been rejected (4-F), right out, too sickly to be considered of any use - but Bucky had been just what they were looking for. He'd been registered on the spot.
Now, years later, apparently his number was finally up.
Steve looked frustrated as hell and rejected as usual, but for the first time in his life, Bucky suddenly, seriously felt his time was running out. He wasn't too proud to admit he was scared, and he needed to talk, and Steve would be the only one to care - and to understand.
"Heya', Buck," Steve said, sitting up from his slumped position on the bench. He was wearing a brown wool coat that had seen better days, and a scarf his ma had knitted him years ago. He didn't have a hat on despite the wet cold, his lips were chattering slightly, and his nose was bright red. He sniffed, producing a handkerchief to swipe at his nose, and moved over for his friend to sit down.
"What's up? Shouldn't you be at work?"
"Hey, Steve, I'm glad I...ran into ya'," Bucky sat down next to him, his sense of panic making him breathless. "I, uh. I got some news today...wanted you to know, first." He handed his friend a folded letter and silently sucked in a breath of icy air in anticipation of his reaction. He rubbed his hands together more out of nervous tension than an attempt at warmth.
"You got drafted." Steve finally said flatly, slowly folding the letter up before handing it back. His sigh was accentuated by a cloud of warm air.
Bucky took the paper, and shoved it in his back pocket, a feat that took him three tries because his hand was shaking. "Yep. In two weeks I'm s'posed to leave for Basic in Fort McCoy, Wisconsin. Why the hell Wisconsin? I mean, Lehigh's closer, and that was Dad's old base."
"I, um..I think Lehigh's more for troops being sent out sooner rather than later," Steve commented carefully.
"Huh. What's in Wisconsin, anyway?"
"I dunno," Steve murmured absently. "Cheese?"
Steve was sulking at the ground and missed Bucky scrubbing at his suddenly tearing eyes with his fists.
"Congratulations, Buck."
Bucky dropped his hands and stared at him. "'Congratulations'? Really?"
Steve must've looked up when he heard the distinct tremble in Bucky's voice. It definitely wasn't from the cold.
Bucky knew he saw the red-rimmed eyes and the way he was hunched over, head in his shoulders, and knew something wasn't right. Bucky didn't break down, he didn't shrink into himself. Steve had to have begun to feel a little fear for his friend when the thought finally occurred to him, and then his eyes widened in sudden understanding.
"You don't want to go."
Bucky kept his eyes wide, unblinking, trying to force back burning tears. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and hung his head between them, focusing on a the crushed remains of someone's cigarette on the dirty brick sidewalk and hiding behind the forward slide of his hair.
"Well...at least you aren't considered a dud like me," Steve announced awkwardly. "Those guys know a winner when they see one."
Bucky laughed harshly, his breathing fast and uneven. "Winner, yeah, right. This ain't a contest. Getting sent into that shit is not a prize, Steve. I know you're disappointed, but at least you don't have to worry about being the one who gets dusted over there - or wherever it is they'll eventually ship me off to," Bucky heard himself snap all this bitterly, and then wondered where the hell it had come from.
"I-I'm sorry, Buck, I had no idea you - I mean, you never…" Steve shook his head, as if trying to come to terms with the idea Bucky might become a deserter.
"Are you saying you're...gonna' get lost?"
Bucky stood up with a violent, "Hell, no!" that made several people nearby startle.
"Do not get the wrong idea, I'm not gonna' blow - nobody can say Bucky Barnes ever ran away from a fight!"
Steve scrambled helplessly, putting a tentative hand on his where it was fisted by his side. "It's okay, Buck! It's okay to be...anxious. Expected, even. It'd be crazy if you weren't!"
"Is that what this is?" Bucky asked distantly, sinking back down onto the bench to lean on his knees again. " I'm...anxious?"
More like terrified...
"I think so," Steve agreed cautiously. He watched his friend closely.
Bucky was quiet for a long time, listening to traffic noises, watching people go about their lives around them. He carefully folded his hands together and said, quietly but certainly, "I don't want this, Steve. I'm twenty-four." He paused and turned his head to look at Steve with a bewildered expression that made him look years younger.
"What happened to all the time, Steve?" Bucky had to look away abruptly, his throat tightening that much more - it was becoming unbearably painful.
At first, Steve seemed not to know what to say, and then -
"Hey, Buck?"
Bucky was horrified his tears were going to spill over in public - and then they did. He took a shaky breath and passed the side of his right hand quickly over both eyes swiping away the hot droplets. He hung his head back on his shoulders, looking up at the gray sky, and belatedly recalled Steve asking his name.
"Yeah?" he asked brokenly.
"I- uh...I just remembered what else they have in Wisconsin."
Unwilling to be drawn from his misery, Bucky reluctantly brought his head down to look back at him, only lifting a questioning brow.
"Milk!"
Bucky blinked, then smiled reluctantly, huffing, "What?"
"Milk! You need milk to make cheese! And where there is milk, there are cows, and where there are cows, there are farmers, and where there are farmers, there are farmer's daughters. Milk maids, Buck. That's what's in Wisconsin. I bet they love men in uniform."
Bucky sniffed, rubbing a hand over his face. He ran a rough hand through his dark hair, forced his shoulders back, and produced a weak smirk. He knew that Steve was trying to cheer him up, but he was also giving him an out. He could fall apart in front of the draft office like some milktoast mama's boy, or he could straighten his shit out and at least pretend he was okay - for the moment. He might be good enough to fool even himself. He chose the latter.
"Hot damn. You know something, Rogers, you're right. Why the hell didn't I think of that?"
"Just remember, Buck - farmers also have guns."
"So do soldiers." Bucky sat upright, grinning, the tension in his chest and throat actually beginning to loosen. He couldn't believe he was actually buying into his own considerable talent at bullshitting, but, hey, if that was what worked, he was going ride that fake bravado until the end of the line.
Steve grinned back.
Bucky sniffed, gazing out over the cityscape. He still didn't see any hope in it all ending well for him, but at least if he didn't come back one day, fuck if he was going out a known coward.
"Sorry, Steve. I don't know what got into me. I mean, what the hell else would I do, right? I'm not trained enough to make any real dough for my family, and I definitely ain't interested in settling down. You know I don't do domestic. Hell, this is my only real chance to get outta' here, maybe see some of the world, plus, helping my country? It's not so bad."
Steve smiled encouragingly. "You're gonna' be alright, Barnes. Just remember to take it easy on those poor country milk maids out in Wisconsin - I'm willing to bet they've never seen anything quite like you."
"Damn straight they haven't," Bucky grinned again, his old confidence quick to return. He blinked the sting out of his eyes and took a deep breath of the cold, bracing air. Then his grin suddenly disappeared, and he cleared his throat. "Well, I can't put it off forever. I guess it's time to go tell Ma', and uh...Becca."
Steve felt his left eyelid twitch in reaction. He really didn't want to be there for that encounter. Bucky's sister was guaranteed not to take this news well - not to mention the chaos that would ensue once his two other younger siblings found out. Bad news in their household was like a jumping Williamsburg dive bar running out of hooch on a Saturday night. It held a distinct possibility of getting ugly.
"You need to get in out of this mess," Bucky said, kicking the side of Steve's damp, half-frozen shoe with his own. "Sitting here, soaking in the cold - it's not gonna' help your asthma."
Steve stood up, hobbling a little and groaning from being parked in one position in the cold for too long.
"Don't remind me - I've already got a cold." He took out his handkerchief again and sneezed into it, only his scarf got in the way and had to clean snot off it with a miserable groan. "I can't even remember why the heck I came out today."
"Because for such a little guy, you're hard-wired for trouble, that's why." Bucky told him seriously. "I know whatcha' been doin' - and you gotta give this up before you get arrested, kid," he said, motioning at the recruitment center. "Besides they already know your face, here."
"Yeah, I know, I just - " Steve interrupted himself as his lungs gave an unhealthy wheeze.
"Well, that tears it - you're coming home with me to give Becca the big news." Bucky wrapped an arm around his shoulders and dragged him to the curb, whistling for a taxi.
"What? Ohhh, no, I mean, thanks, pal, but I really just feel like going home and - "
Bucky opened the door to a yellow taxi and tried to herd Steve in. He almost laughed - it was like trying to put a cat in a washtub.
"C'mon, Buddy, you know she loves you, and you know she loves you even more when you're sick. She'll take one look at you and my news will suddenly be old news - you'll even get her famous chicken noodle soup! You know she's always been sweet on you. Look at it as doing damage control. You'll save the sanity of my family."
"Bucky!" Steve snarled, holding fast to the door frame, slender knuckles white with effort.
Bucky would have pushed harder if he wasn't afraid he'd pop Steve's shoulders out of socket. It had happened to the kid before, in other fights he'd been too freakishly stubborn to walk away from. Once, he'd even gotten his damn hip dislocated.
The last thought made Bucky pause, suddenly made all the hopelessness and fear come rushing back.
Oh, God. Who the hell was going to look after Steve's reckless ass if he was gone?
A pathetic-sounding sneeze from young man in front of him quickly snapped him out of it.
Bucky released a rickety sigh. Focusing, he rolled his eyes, backed off for a second, almost slipped on some ice, and grabbed the open door for balance before quickly looking around to see if anyone had noticed his embarrassing lack of smoothness.
The old cabbie had, watching the spectacle in the rearview mirror, and he was cackling merrily behind a short, smelly stogie.
Bucky ground his teeth, snapping. "Hey, lose the cigar, will ya' fella? This kid's got asthma for christ-sake!"
The cabbie abruptly stopped laughing, looking to turn mutinous.
Bucky gave him a long, hard stare, and the old man harrumphed but stubbed the stogie out in an overflowing ashtray.
"Oh, don't put yourself out," Steve said cheerily. "I'm not coming on this fare."
"Dammit, Steve," Bucky warned, his annoyance showing, "if you don't get in that cab I'm gonna' just leave you sprawled out here on the asphalt, see if I don't!"
Steve laughed breathlessly, out of energy but still looking to be stubborn. "That'd actually be preferable, thanks!"
Damn. Bucky was thankful for the distraction, honestly, but the kid never knew when to quit.
Clenching his jaw, narrowed blue eyes coolly assessing the situation, Bucky cracked his neck, gave his shoulders a shrug, put a foot behind one of Steve's knees - and gave a firm but gentle push.
Thanks to his gift for strategizing, that was all it took.
Steve squeaked as his knee collapsed, the surprise making him lose his tenuous grip on the frame, and he fell into the taxi face first, struggled cartoonishly for a second, and then finally rolled over and managed to sit up as a smug Bucky dropped down beside him and shut the door. He huffed with exertion, pulling his tangled scarf from around his head, looking up at Bucky resentfully. His pale, sharp features were flushed bright, shiny red.
"Her soup is only famous because you know how bad it is!" Steve furiously whisper-shouted, as if afraid Bucky's sister might actually hear. "No one in your family ever gets sick!"
"Because we're all too afraid she'll make us eat that carcass water she calls broth," Bucky laughed, pausing to give the driver his address, and then he tilted his head thoughtfully.
"It's - well, let's just say that it's effective in it's own way."
"Don't you dare tell her I'm sick!" Steve hissed desperately, and it made Bucky remember the first - and last - time he'd been made to eat it. His little sister had worked on it all day, and even though he hadn't wanted anything to eat at the time, his Ma had guilted him into drinking it. He hadn't been able to smell or taste anything but burnt Rosemary for a week and had ended up losing three pounds.
"I hate to remind you, Rogers, but you're always sick. You've pretty much been sick ever since the day I met you! It's not like you can hide it."
"You owe me for this, Barnes," Steve grumbled, slumping dejectedly, "you know I can't say no to her!" He looked out the window as they traveled through the borough and stubbornly set his lower jaw.
Feeling energized and mostly back to his old self, Bucky grinned and glanced over at the slight young man next to him, knowing he was the one he had to thank for it. The grin slid from his face as he realized time with his best friend was borrowed from this moment on.
"I know. I can't either," Bucky admitted seriously. "But, I also know you can't say no to me, and I owe you for that, kid. I owe you big."