7.

Brooklyn, New York

July 1st, 1942

Steve drags his feet on the way back to his apartment. His ego is crushed once again, his dreams rejected, and to top it all off, the skin over his cheekbone was broken by an unfortunate impact with someone's fist, splitting the skin and leaking blood down the side of his face and onto his newest white shirt.

The climb up the stairs is a struggle today because Steve's lungs aren't climatizing well to the July heat, and he has to pause when the door to his apartment is just in sight and mentally prepare himself for the last six steps. He makes it, his legs feeling like jelly beneath him. He fishes his keys out of his pants pocket, and opens the front door. Once inside, he kicks off his shoes by the front door and turns, expecting to see his mother sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him. He's surprised when he sees his mother and Isabel, both of them talking over a cup of coffee each.

"Hi," Steve says lamely, waving awkwardly at the ladies. He forgets that he has blood smeared all over his face until they both gasp and usher him into a chair.

"What did you do now?" Isabel asks by way of greeting, examining the cut with critical eyes.

"Who did you fight?" Sarah accuses, taking a wet cloth to the cut to dab away the drying blood.

"I didn't start this one," Steve says defensively, allowing himself to catch his breath while the women clean up the cut. It really isn't bad, compared to some injuries Steve's been dealt in the past. "Some guy asked me if the army was letting twelve-year-old's in now."

Isabel pauses, her eyebrows creasing in concern and confusion. "Wait, you're still intent on joining the army?" She asks quietly.

Steve's eyes widen, remembering his promise to Bucky that he wouldn't tell Isabel that he was trying to enlist. Sarah knows, of course, because he'd explained to her his reasons for wanting to go and she'd understood, and at this moment hardly looks surprised by this piece of information.

"Yes?" Steve replies, more of a question. "Well, I tried. I got given a 4F."

"Oh," Isabel says, looking away from Steve. The news that Steve was rejected doesn't seem to do anything to help her frazzled nerves. She'd known Steve wanted to go, but always thought he wouldn't bother to try enlisting to avoid the embarrassment of being turned away. She should have known better though. And, as she thinks back, she realizes that Bucky has never let her in on this piece of information either. He'd warned her it may happen eventually, but she'd thought Bucky would shut down Steve's ideas. Perhaps Bucky's departure to basic had been Steve's opportunity. "Was this the first time you tried to enlist?"

Steve's blushing cheeks and avoidance of Isabel's eyes tells her all she needs to know. The blonde has never been able to lie.

"How do you even attempt to enlist multiple times?" Isabel asks.

"You change your place of birth," Steve mumbles quietly, not meeting Isabel's gaze.

Isabel's mouth falls open. "That- Steve, that's illegal! You can't lie on your enlistment forms! You could get in so much trouble, you could go to jail. Do you want to end up in the crowbar hotel?"

"I know, I know," Steve says. "But it's a risk I'll take if I get what I want."

Isabel's look of shock turns to anger and confusion, her eyes turning icy. "Does Bucky know you've tried multiple times?"

Steve looks away, his cheeks heating up. Isabel narrows her eyes even more. Sarah looks worriedly between Steve and Isabel, seeming to grasp that Isabel wasn't fully aware of her son's ambition.

"Why didn't you just ignore this person if they were taunting you?" Sarah berates Steve, trying to change the topic and resolve the awkward silence in the room.

"I shouldn't have to ignore him. I've got just as much right to fight as he does!" Steve argues, getting himself riled up within seconds.

"And I bet you told him that," Isabel murmurs sourly with a judgemental eyebrow raise.

"I did," Steve says matter-of-factly, sitting a little straighter in his chair. "Then he took me round back and told me to show him how I'd punch out those Kraut fuc-…Krauts," Steve corrects himself. "And when I got ready to fight back, he beat the crap out of me. The recruitment Sergeant heard the ruckus and came out and stopped it."

"Bucky's going to kill you. He's been gone not even two weeks and you've already gotten yourself beat up," Isabel berates, finishing up by putting a band aid over Steve's cheekbone. Her fingers are a little less gentle than normal as she slaps the band aid on, making Steve wince away from her.

"I had him on the ropes," Steve argues. Isabel hums in agreement, humouring Steve the way she knows Steve hates, but her and Bucky do it anyway.

Isabel goes home after finishing with her catch-up with Sarah, and that evening after dinner when she has retired to the sanctuary of her bedroom, she writes a strongly worded letter to Bucky. She sends the envelope off with the postman the next morning, knowing she may regret some of the things she's said but not finding the will to care.

Tomah, Wisconsin

July 20th, 1942

Bucky receives the letter a few days after the last in the mail call. The drill sergeant stands on a crate at the front of the large crowd of training soldiers, shouting out names and handing over letters and packages.

"Bucky? What kind of a name is that?" The drill sergeant mumbles, frowning down at a letter in his hands. "Barnes," the drill sergeant bellows a little louder, and Bucky scurries up to him to take the letter from his hands. Bucky gets an odd look from the man.

"Bucky, that's me," he laughs, shaking the letter in thanks.

He waits until he's back at his dorm to open the letter, sitting back on his bed to hide it from the others he shares the dorm with. He knows it's from Isabel right away, recognising her handwriting on the front with his name and address, but her writing is untidy and scrawled, almost angry, and Bucky finds himself gulping before he even begins to read.

Bucky, she writes.

I found out some rather interesting news today when I was having tea at Sarah's. Steve came back from a recruitment center sporting a split cheek and a rejection notice. Did you know that he tried to enlist for the army? He was rejected, unfortunately for him. I assume you knew, though, since you boys probably know each other better than the backs of your own eyelids. I assume you also know that this was not his first attempt and is planning to continually lie on his enlistment forms until he is accepted or jailed and won't settle for anything in between?

Would you like to enlighten me on why you didn't inform me that Steve was going to enlist? Did you force him not to tell me? You told me that he was interested, yes, but not that he would actually attempt anything. What if he'd been accepted! Did you even try to talk him out of it?! I know that Steve's an adult and can make his own decisions, but he's got the self-preservation of a snowball in hell. Besides, I'm not a child either, I can handle things better than you probably think.

You told me he would get over it, but he certainly hasn't. If he gets in, so help me God, you better look after him. Lord knows we've already got our hands full with him in Brooklyn.

Other than all that Steve-related drama, all is fine here. I'd tell you about what's been going on, but I'm angry at you for lying to me, so you can live in wonder. All I will say, is that Brooklyn really isn't the same without you, and I can't wait for you to get home. Be careful, don't shoot yourself in the foot.

I only like you right now, Isabel.

As Bucky finishes up reading the letter, he hears a high-pitched whistle come from right beside his ear. He jumps at the sound, whipping his head around and coming eye-to-eye with Private Crawley, who has managed to sneak up beside him and get a glimpse of the letter. "Someone's in trouble with the missus," he singsongs.

"She ain't my missus, she's my sister," Bucky informs him, pushing the Private away from him. Crawley sprawls off where he was perched on the edge of Bucky's cot and lands ungracefully on his own bed beside Bucky's "It'd pay for you to keep your nose out of other people's business, Private. Especially your commanding officers."

"Yes, Serge," Crawley replies dutifully, but his smirk says the message wasn't clear. Bucky's made the unfortunate name for himself as being a slight soft touch, the men knowing that Bucky would rather be a friend than a superior. He knows he'll have to rectify this if he wants to stand any chance at being shown any respect in the field.

"Serge ain't got a missus, Crawley, he already told us that," Dum Dum Dugan berates Crawley with a sigh, reading his own letter from home on his cot to Bucky's left.

"He's got a sister, though," Crawley smirks. "What's she look like? She like redheads?" He asks, pointing to his freshly shaved hair that sparkles red in the sunlight.

"I dunno if she likes redheads, but she's definitely got standards so she isn't gonna look at your ass," Bucky replies, tucking the letter away safely in his trunk. He'll reply later when the other men aren't snooping around. He's definitely got a bit of explaining to do to Isabel. "I think she likes blondes."

"How do you know? She got a boyfriend or something?"

"That isn't your business. It'd do you well too, Private, not to speak so boldly of my family again," Bucky warns, though his voice remains slightly playful, unable to keep the amusement from his tone.

"Oh, harsh Serge," Crawley says, but he isn't hurt, his smile still plastered on his face beneath his freckled cheeks. "It's alright. I'll just have to search somewhere else for a gal."

"Good luck," Dugan tells him. "You'll have to beat Serge to that. When he gets back to Brooklyn showing off his insignia all the girls are gonna go stir crazy for him. He'll be drawing smooch dates in from all over the country, and God forbid how many European girls are going to want a piece of Yankee ass once we get overseas. We'll all be up to our eyelids, but you'll have to beat Serge to it."

"Shouldn't be too much of a challenge," Crawley says confidently. Dugan just scoffs, muttering something about Crawley continuing to tell himself that, before making his way back out of the dorms toward the mess hall.

"Just a hint," Bucky says on his way out the door. "No one's better with women than me." With that, he throws a sloppy salute to Crawley and makes his way to get his own dinner.