Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7779121.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Captain_America_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      James_"Bucky"_Barnes/Steve_Rogers
  Character:
      James_"Bucky"_Barnes, Steve_Rogers, Sarah_Rogers, Winifred_Barnes,
      Rebecca_Barnes_Proctor
  Additional Tags:
      Attempted_Rape/Non-Con, Mentions_of_Prostitution, Period-Typical
      Homophobia, Period_Typical_Attitudes, Abuse, Bucky's_dad's_a_dick, Bucky
      Barnes_Needs_a_Hug, Bucky_Barnes_Feels, Protective_Bucky_Barnes, Minor
      Character_Death, Pre-Serum_Steve_Rogers, Steve_Rogers_Feels, Steve_Rogers
      Needs_a_Hug, Bottom_Steve_Rogers, Top_Bucky_Barnes, Underage_Sex, I_swear
      this_is_happy, Angst, Internalized_Homophobia, Mutual_Pining, Alternate
      Universe_-_Gangsters, Italian_Mafia, Canonical_Character_Death
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-15 Updated: 2016-09-21 Chapters: 4/7 Words: 8284
****** Why Don't You Do Right. ******
by simplifiedbaby
Summary
     Bucky leaves for two years and comes back with blood on his hands.
     Steve's way in over his head.
     They're in love.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** Dream A Little Dream. *****
He remembers how his lungs stung as he ran home, how tears blurred his vision.
The sudden appearance of Bucky’s father in the doorway and the horrified look
on his face had the two of them pulling apart and turning ghost white. If not
for Bucky intercepting the attack, Steve was sure the older Barnes would have
killed him in a blind rage. Steve ran, he didn’t know what else to do.
That night, Bucky snuck into Steve’s room but wouldn’t even look at him, in the
dim light he noticed the deep bruises encompassing the other’s throat and
circling around his eyes. He noted the tinny scent that the figure before him
gave off. Crawling towards the brunet to reach out, to comfort, a hand quickly
swatted the hand, rejecting contact. Jerking defensively, he set his jaw before
looking at Steve with heartbreak and anger in his eyes for what seemed like an
overwhelming eternity.
“I..I’m leaving.”
The words were caught then forcibly hissed out and Steve's blood ran cold as
they cut through the thick air. Before he could even respond Bucky was slipping
 back out through the window, Steve chasing after him quickly, grabbing weakly
for his wrist. Whispering out, knowing if he spoke too loud his voice would
catch and claw in his throat .
“Bucky..please..don’t..don’t go please..please..”
He pleaded and his heart thrummed in his ears as Bucky stared at him with such
a sad and broken look that Steve couldn’t stop from letting a sob slip through
his lips. In the end Bucky pulled his arm out from Steve grip, staring for a
moment as if to burn the memory into his brain. He ran off. This tore Steve’s
world apart, it was devastating watching as Bucky’s silhouette was soon blurred
and obscured out of view.
 He was 15.
-
1936
The shutters opened with a rattle, and Steve bit back a yawn his, eyes watering
in protest. Looking out the big window blearily, the sun beamed into the little
shop soaking into every corner. Steve’s hands rubbed at his face in an attempt
to eradicate himself from sleepiness. His movements were stiff and sluggish as
he unlocked the door propping it open and stepping out to breath in the morning
air. Smacking his lips together a few times he interlocked his fingers and held
his arms out in front of his small frame, cracking his knuckles and stretching
out his shoulders. As his joints popped he let out a soft sigh before shuffling
back inside. He began setting up the displays in the widow. Vibrant splashes of
color and the smell of earth and flora filled his senses, easing out any
discomfort.
Tucking an empty clay pot in his elbow he stepped back to admire his  handiwork
with a secretive swell of pride. He caught sight of a figure that loomed
outside, a pricy looking hat tipped down just enough to shadow his face.
Steve’s eyes narrowed as he turned his back to the man.
There was the sound of expensive shoes tapping on the hardwood of the dinky
flower shop and Steve managed to make it behind the counter. Setting the pot
down gingerly on one of the shelves beneath the countertop, his fingers curling
around a baseball bat under the register.  He knew these types, well dressed
but dangerous, it was rumored that the owner of the shop had ties with the
mafia, and Steve wouldn’t be surprised with the amount of suits that came in
and sauntered their way to the back room much to the owner’s chagrin.
“Are you looking for something in particular?”
Steve gave a tight lipped smile as he looked up. In that moment, his breath
caught in his throat and his heart stuttered. The man..no.. Bucky was leaning
directly on the countertop his attention on a greeting card he held in between
his his fingers, his lips pursed in means of scrutiny. He smelled a heavy scent
of cologne, not enough to be overwhelming, just enough.
“I need a bouquet..”
The words hit Steve with booming clarity as if the angels parted the clouds and
blew their holy trumpets right against Steve’s ears . Light steel eyes flicked
up to Steve’s face then back to the card between his fingers before slowly
raking their back up bulging out just a bit.
“Steve?”
The name came out strangled and tight as if Bucky had just been punched in the
gut. He pushed himself off the counter with a bemused expression, just staring
at Steve. Pinching his hat off his head he pressed it to his chest giving a
smile, lips working out words that Steve wasn’t hearing.
“Where’d you go?”
The smile faltered and Bucky’s face went dark, his jaw tightening, eyes cast
down to the floor, practically burning holes into the wood.
“I was just asking because my mom was worried! You suddenly stopped coming
around for dinner, and..and yeah.”
He sputtered out quickly, trying to play off his humiliation. Bucky rolled his
shoulders and a smile spread across his face.
“I was visiting my uncle.”
Bucky stated placidly, placing his hat back on his head.
Visiting his uncle for two years? As if. Though Steve wasn’t going to comment.
Clearing his throat he stood upright.
“You said you needed a bouquet? We have plenty of flowers to choose from.”
He stepped out from behind the counter.
“Anything you’re looking for in particular?”
“Ah, red roses?”
Bucky fidgeted and rubbed the back of his neck nervously looking around the
room, face flushing. Steve couldn’t help but be confused, Ah maybe he’s got a
sweetheart. Putting on a fake smile he walked past Bucky nudging him gently.
“You got a sweetheart?”
He pluck a few roses from the display looking over them, smelling them before
looking up at Bucky expectantly.
“Um no, no. Friend of mine just got outta the hospital..he’s a bit,”
He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow.
“..Over the top?”
He finished and Steve snickered lightly as he filtered through the flowers.
Once he had a dozen he carefully took them back to his workbench. With careful
fingers he slowly cut at the thorns, fighting the urge to just stare amazed at
Bucky.
“Uh how’s your ma?”
A cold shot ran up his spine and he set his hands on the bench.
“She’s uh..she’s good, been a little under the weather but, I’m sure she’ll
pull through.”
He slowly brought his head up to look at Bucky, smiling assuredly, though it
was not in the least convincing. Bucky looked concerned, truly and genuinely
concerned, he began to open his mouth to speak, but Steve quickly cut him off.
“Uh, are you gonna be in town for long? I’m sure my ma would be more than happy
to dote on you.”
Looking back down at the roses he continued to snip gently at the thorns,
setting the small pliers to the side before arranging the bouquet.
“I’ll be in town for a while. I wouldn’t mind swinging by sometime.”
“Well, when I’m not here I’m usually there.”
Wrapping the flowers at the stem with ribbon and light paper, he grabs for a
little card and pen.
“Anything you want it to say? Get well soon?”
“Yeah, yeah that’ll do.”
With swift movements, Steve guided the pen over the paper elegantly ignoring
the eyes on his hands and the burning of his ears.
“How about tomorrow? We can..catch up?”
Setting the pen down, he sticks the small cream card in with the flowers before
handing the arrangement to Bucky.
 “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Bucky began digging into his pocket but Steve just shook his head smiling.
“It’s on me.”
“Right..”
Bucky hesitantly took the flower, handling them with such care it almost broke
Steve’s heart. He smiled back albeit sheepish and awkward, slowly he backed out
of the tiny shop.It almost felt as if Bucky staring straight into his very
core.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, your place, around 7?”
Steve just nodded and Bucky nodded in return, clearing his throat before
exiting. As soon as Bucky was out of sight Steve finally exhaled a heavy breath
he didn’t know he was holding, his heart rammed in his chest beating loudly in
his ears. Steve was floored as he leaned back against the countertop to keep
himself from falling over. Scrunching his nose and pinching his arm hard enough
to bruise he concluded this was in fact not a dream. He could’ve gotten on his
knees and screamed praises to the high heavens, thanking all the angels and
saints and God himself. Though that would be just a tad distasteful so Steve
relinquished the thought.
 Smoothing his hands over his pant legs to dry up some of the moisture he took
a few shaky steps before he was behind the counter. Leaning down to rest his
forehead on the smooth pine scented surface, he smiled big and wide and
beautiful. Like the sunshine just shone through the clouds after a storm,
glazing everything in warmth and honey. He laughed because God, it was like he
was 15 all over again, getting sweet talked by Bucky quietly as they laid
together under the covers. Bucky lips pressed so close to Steve’s ear it
tickled and made him laugh breathlessly.
 It was just like that feeling except it wasn’t, because now things were
different, there would be no sweet pillow talk only shared experiences and
formality. Just like that it’s as if the dark clouds rolled back in covering
the beam of warmth, turning the world cold and dark once again. Steve knocked
his forehead against the countertop a few times before pushing himself up with
an internal groan. A woman who was now in the shop with him looked at him like
he was crazy, and his ears burned as he gave a sheepish wave and smile.
***** As Time Goes By. *****
Chapter Notes
     Thank you all for the kudos and sweet comments!!
     I will try to stay on a consistent track when it comes to updates,
     but I started classes today so :^)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
1927
His father’s clothes sometimes smelled too strongly of smoke and jasmine for a
man of his payroll. The biggest red flag was this, this was the polar opposite
of the regular stench of liquor and sweat that clung to the man.
Though once Rebecca was born, the sweet smell of expensive cigars and perfumes
began overruling the sour smell of cheap whisky and over worn clothes. Another
thing that was different were the beatings, prior to Rebecca’s birth they would
be frequent and would often leave Bucky out of sorts for a week.
They began to occur less and the aftermath was reduced to usually a split lip
and bruises that lasted days at best, and Bucky wasn’t sure if he were to be
relieved or angry. Why stop this now?
As the clothes got nicer his poor ma got more and more worried.
He would speak to her in a soothing voice after he found her alone in the
sitting room sobbing. He spent many nights consoling his mother and taking her
to bed, he spent many days watching over Rebecca. He didn’t understand why his
life felt just so gray and harsh, like the lines of everything were bold and
rough.
Bucky was ten when light  and feeling reentered his life. It came in the form
of a scrappy looking kid, nine years old and smaller than most kids on the
block. Blood dried to his upper lip in a streak that began at his nose,  and
cornflower blue eyes that shot daggers at Bucky. The blond was standing there
leaning against the door to the butcher’s with a frozen hunk of meat pressed
tentatively to his eye.
“What are you lookin' at?”
He spoke in such away that it threw Bucky off, it sent his whole world spinning
and as he stared in awe at the vivid colors of the kid’s eyes and bruises and
blood, the colors seemed to bloom around him. Bucky wasn’t sure why his heart
hurt like it did or why his chest felt so tight, but he let the color soak into
his bones and make home there.
“Just some punk.”  
His nose crumpled  and he jutted out his chin as he spoke, walking right past
the tiny frame, biting back a smile when he heard a sputter and the sound of
feet following behind him. There was a tap on his shoulder and Bucky spun
around on his heel to see bright red cheeks and a pout so ridiculous he
couldn’t stop the laughed that bubbled up.
“Why are you pouting?”
He spoke through laughs holding his stomach, the redness spread to the blond’s
ears in such a lovely way Bucky couldn’t help but stop his fit of laughter,
wiping his eyes as though he cried.
“Why are you such a jerk?”
A small foot stamped down on the floor and Bucky went to speak but his mouth
just opened and closed in surprise. 
“You look like a fish.”
The other spoke while crossing his arms, an eyebrow raising, waiting for a
response. Bucky felt a heat rise to his cheeks.
“Do not!"
Bucky lips pursed and he stood there, his normal snark and confidence nowhere
to be found. Who knew there’d come a day that James Buchanan Barnes would have
nothing to say?
-
1932
“You know,”
He began before he wiped at the grime and sweat on his face with his shirt.
“you shouldn’t keep comin' down here, the smoke’ll kill ya.”
They walked down the side of the road, Bucky’s eyes now fixated on their long
cast shadows and the warm light that they bathed in. Steve bumped against him
as they walked and the warm glow of the sun didn’t even begin to compare to the
heat that spread across Bucky’s skin.
“I know, I know, everyone down by the docks smoke like chimneys. I get it. Ma
always tells me before I leave, don’t need you nagging me either.”
Steve let out a harrumph and waved dismissively at Bucky.
“Besides it’s not like I can let you walk home by yourself. Who knows the
amount of trouble you’d be in if I weren’t here?”
Bucky snorts out a laugh and bumps into Steve again.
“Probably a helluva a lot less.”
Steve leaned into Bucky’s side, dark eyelashes casting delicate shadows over
the tips of his cheeks. Perfect lips curled in a gentle smile and skin so milky
a dame could never compare. Beautiful was the only word that flashed in his
mind, and it was as if the word was a shock of bright white and a loud boom.
With his mouth suddenly dry Bucky licked at his lips, and swallowed thickly,
he’s suddenly desperate to taste those lips. He draws away from the warmth and
touch as though it burnt him. With his smile now faltering  Steve looked up
questioningly at Bucky, and Bucky’s mind was absolutely reeling. What was this
feeling, why does he feels damn inclined to something so stupid? Looking around
quickly and carefully, he pulled Steve easily by the arm into an alley. He
swallowed hard again as he pushed the small frame of Steve’s body against the
wall, carefully and gently. His heartbeat hammered in his ears as Steve looked
up at him expectantly, opening his mouth to speak but quickly being cut off by
Bucky’s lips.
It was the worst kiss imaginable.
All teeth and gum and spit, the clumsiest nips and bumping noses. There was
nothing but pure devotion to the other’s mouth as they stood in that alley
kissing until the sun had dipped under the horizon. But Bucky didn’t need the
sun to feel warmth, he didn’t need the sun for light.
-
1936
Bucky was both walking on air and falling so fast to the Earth he didn’t know
what to do. It had been two years since he last saw Steve’s face. The
expression of absolute heartbreak and the booming sound of the world collapsing
around him burned into his memory. He was already two blocks away and his heart
had just started to to stop stuttering. Looking down at his hand at the mass of
deep red he licked his lips. Unbelievable, to intentionally ignore someone and
fucking run into them because you need flowers for a man who treated you like
shit for years. There’s only one person to thank for this freak encounter and
it’s the big bad man himself, Bucky’s dad.
The great and almighty George Barnes.
Lost deep in thought his feet carried him all the way to a small headstone with
words engraved into it.
Bucky hadn’t realize that as soon as you die everything bad you did in your
life was no longer a problem and you were seen as a saint by all. An angel
without sin. If that was true then Bucky would be seen as fucking divine as
Jesus Christ himself.
With a deep sigh Bucky slowly got down onto his knees one hand moving to place
on the smooth stone the other setting flowers gingerly in front of the sad
memorial. He couldn’t even think of anything to say. Couldn’t even muster up a
single tear as he sat in front of that hunk of rock. The man under the soil
didn’t deserve Bucky’s sorrow. After a moment or two of false grieving bucky
allowed himself to stand, dusting off his knees and looking with an upturned
nose at the name engraved in the stone, then back at the bundle of plush roses.
He couldn’t help but feel sick, in his mind it was as if Steve had personally
delivered the flowers to the man that ruined them.
Spitting next to the grave he kicked at the dirt a few times before reluctantly
pulling himself away from the stone hands deep in his pockets.
He walked aimlessly down familiar streets, with a deep frown on his face that
didn’t let up until he crossed the threshold of his childhood home. Taking his
hat off he set it on the hall table before tentatively walking down the small
passageway.
“Ma? I’m home.”
He called out as he peaked his head around the corner that lead into the
sitting room. Suddenly a solid mass slammed against his legs causing a soft
breath of air to leave him as he steadied himself.
“Bucky!”
A high voice practically squealed out  with surprise and with a shaky laugh he
knelt down to ruffle deep brown curls
“Becca what’ve I told you about doing that?”
He asked his hand resting on her head.
“That one day I’m gonna make you fall on your ass!”
Bucky sat back onto the floor and laughed before it cut off by the sharp
exclaim of his mother.
“Rebbeca!”
Bucky beamed at his mother, a short, plump Sicilian woman with graying hair and
a sharp look. Slowly he stood, picking Rebecca up as he did, walking over to
Winifred an arm open for her.
“Ma.”
He breathed out the short word as she wrapped her arm around him and he leaned
down so that her lips could reach his cheek. He returned the gesture before
pulling away from the embrace with a content smile at the familiar scent of
lavender.
“How come I never get a kiss on the cheek?”
Rebecca whined kicking her legs with a pout on her lips.
“Cause you never ask.”
He pinched her cheek before setting her down and shooing her off, gaining a
rather betrayed look from the eight year old. Turning his attention slowly back
onto his mother he smiled something sweet and adoring at the woman before
talking. It was as if he had a million things to say but only one word came
out.  
“Ma.”
Again the word came out soft and breathy, like it was unbelievable that he was
actually saying it. It was rusty from disuse and didn’t seem to fit right in
his mouth but there was still some familiarity to it.  
“Has staying with your uncle made you stupid?”
He barked out a laugh as she shook her head a smile pulling at the side of her
mouth. There she was looking happier than ever, because he was finally home.
Winifred was the most torn up about Bucky being sent away, she had no say in
the matter and that crushed her. Even though Bucky’s father had explained
everything to her she still cared about his well being.
He knew she thought of him as an anchor and had somehow blamed the whole
incident on herself. Of course that’s what his father thought too. That Bucky
spending so much time with his mother had somehow made him a fairy and the only
way to set him right was to send him off to a house constantly filled with men.
What could go wrong right?
Though it was different circumstances, his uncle Finocchi, a stern looking man
with a warm laugh, was not tolerable of Bucky’s “illness”. Of course it’s not
like the man knew about Bucky himself, but he knew the man’s opinion on the
subject. It’s not like anyone in the family knew, and god forbid. his father
would’ve been cast away like a stray dog. So he made up a not so fantastical
story about how Bucky wanted to finally join the family business, finally
become a man. At that point Bucky wasn’t sure what that actually entailed all
he knew is he was pissed.
The two years following being dropped off and left at a practical stranger’s
house were filled with so much bloodshed, secrets, and death, that Bucky
couldn’t help but be consumed by it. He knew it wouldn’t change him or how he
felt, but he didn’t know how it would actually impact him.
Bucky always had a sharp eye, and this of course was something his uncle could
use. The man called on him one night and sat him down and explained everything
very carefully. It had been the first time he heard the words “la cosa nostra”.
Our thing. Sicilian mafia.  
In those two years since Bucky had decided to join on, there was a process
involved that left his hands stained with deep crimson to this day. He moved
his way up the ladder with a surprising speed all under the watchful eye of his
uncle, whom he’d soon learn was actually his boss. He felt a swell of pride
whenever his uncle had given him praise. It was invigorating and Bucky hated
it, but he didn’t, he lived for it. Getting so swept up in it he had stopped
thinking about Steve for a while. Only know does he realize this was his
father’s plan all along, though as soon as he he saw those baby blues he was
again absolutely smitten.
After a quick dinner he sat down with Winifred holding her hands tight as he
talked about seeing Steve and how he was going to visit him and Sarah tomorrow.
Again there was that look of worry, the same look that took over Steve’s face
at the mention of his mother. With his mother’s keen sense she immediately
began to explain.
“Oh passerotto, Sarah is very, very sick.”
She patted Bucky’s hands gently as she spoke softly her thick accent ringing in
his ears. Body going cold he sat there for a moment just processing.
“But she’ll be alright?”
Winifred’s lips purse into a tight line and her deep brown eyes cast down.
“Honestly it’s hard to say..at this point it could get better or it could get
worse we’re not so sure.”
“What’s she got? The flu?”
A shake of her head has Bucky reaching for the worst case.
“It’s tuberculosis.”
Her eyes looks so full of sadness as she says the words patting Bucky’s cheek.
It was amazing how a few hours ago he was practically buzzing with excitement
to see Steve and now he nearly dreaded it.
“Shit, ma, Steve’s been around Sarah hasn’t he?”
Quickly getting out of his seat and tearing away from his mother he ran for the
door slipping on his shoes and sprinting out of the small house.
-
Frantically knocking at Steve’s window, he checks the watch on his wrist and
let’s out a curse. Stepping back and thinking it through a few times over in
his head he moves to slowly begin opening the window before it’s thrown open, a
burst of yelling and the cameo of a baseball bat has Bucky nearly falling off
the fire escape before he can grab for the wood.
“Steve! Steve! Jeez stop yellin’,shut up it’s me!”
Yanking the bat of Steve’s hand he stops moving to let Steve have a good look
at him. The blond actually begins to laugh, running his fingers through his
hair.
“God Buck you scared me.”
He leans against the window sill actually holding his hand over his heart and
immediately Bucky’s a puddle of worry and faint adoration, okay maybe not
faint.
“Are you alright?”
Bucky places the bat off to the side before turning all of his attention back
to Steve.
“You didn’t come here to mother hen me did you?”
Of course he did, that’s all he ever did when it pertained to Steve, like yeah
he knew it was important not to coddle him at times but checking in on him not
dying was also important.
“Yeah I did actually. You need to leave Steve.”
Steve laughs again but it soon fades and he’s just sitting there now with an
angry glower.
“You wake me up in the middle of the night after not seeing me fortwo years and
tell me to leave my home while my mother is sick?”
Sometime Steve’s bluntness hit Bucky like a wall.
“Yes?”
Steve crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow giving an unimpressed look.
“Really?”
Bucky groaned and put his hands on Steve’s shoulders shaking him lightly.
“You’re mom’s really sick and you could get really sick too. Not winter
pneumonia sick either Steve like, you’ll actually die.”
There was a stinging sensation at the outside of his arms as the blond swatted
his hands off and he pulled back with a frustrated breath.
“Buck I can’t just leave her alone.”
“I know that but-”
“No, I’m not leaving.”
Bucky wanted to scream, this wonderfully stubborn kid was so unbelievably
irritating in the best way. There weren’t many men who would tell Bucky no, but
god the word fit so well in Steve’s mouth that he would let it slide just this
once, or for the rest of his life. He would let Steve say no everyday to him,
just to hear the word.
Relaxing his tense shoulders he holds his hands up in defeat.
“You are sometimes unbearable Steve.”
Steve mouth open and closed in disbelief, and Bucky could feel the anger slowly
easing out of the situation.
“I want to help.”
Bucky said before Steve could even muster up a response to the prior words, his
eyes narrowed and he almost seemed to recoil away from Bucky.
“How?”
Bucky pursed his lips and shifted his weight, the metal creaking underneath
him.
“I have money, I could help with the apartment or maybe even help pay for some
of the medical stuff.”
By some he meant he’d pay for all of it, no matter the cost, just so he
wouldn’t have to see Steve go through such a terrible experience, knowing full
well that it wasn’t going to be a quick and painless one. Let alone if he could
actually help Sarah and help her at least feel some sense of ease.
“Whaddya say?”
“No.”
The sound of the widow being viciously shut was the signal that the
conversation was over with. He turned on his heel and stood there a moment in
thought.
“Don’t forget you’re coming to dinner tomorrow.”
The voice made him jump and he gave a quick nod before before he could verbally
respond the heavy window was shut again.
Chapter End Notes
     Passerotto-Sparrow, A term of endearment.
     Finocchi (finocchio)-a fennel, or a homophobic slur.
***** art :^) *****
Chapter Summary
     HAVE SOME ART BECAUSE IVE BEEN BUSY
A_real_quick_doodle_of_the_boys
((I'm so sorry I haven't posted a new chapter lmao I've been super busy with
school and life in general, I hope this will suffice until the next chapter :
'^) 
***** I guess I'll Have To Dream The Rest *****
Chapter Notes
     -Wipes sweat from my brow-
     Wow I am SO sorry this update took me so long, there's been a lot
     going on !!
     The plot thickens :^)
It was a bad night, the sound of wet hacking cut through Steve’s dreaming mind
jolting him from sleep. In a daze he threw the thin blankets off  in a panicked
hurry, getting tangled up in fabric and falling off the bed gracefully with a
thud as an outcome. Dusting himself off he pushed himself up and padded quickly
across the cold floorboards, the wood groaning even under his slight weight.
He did everything in his power not to burst through the door of Sarah’s bedroom
not wanting to frighten her. Though of course in the flurry of movements he
ended up flinging the door open,  and in recoil the doorknob slammed against
the wall, banging against the thin panel.
“Oh Steven..”
She tried to speak through coughs, a handkerchief held up with a gentle grace
to her mouth.
“Do be quiet..it’s late.”
Of course it is so like Sarah to chide him about waking the neighbors during a
while virtually breathless. Giving a little click of his tongue at the scolding
he moved to her side to gently help sit her up. Her hands shooing him away, he
had to get his stubbornness from somewhere.  
“Ma I’m not all that concerned about the neighbors right now.”
His mother tutted and shook her head opening her mouth to scold him again on
something like his manners but her shoulders shook as another wave of body
racking coughs moved through her.
“Ma..”
His voice cracked and hands hovered knowing his mother would deny him if he
were to try and and help.
When the fit began to ease up, Steve sat at the edge of her bed rubbing small
circles into her back, the sound of her wheezing making him nervous.
“Ma wanna get some fresh air?”
He offered but before she could give a response Steve was already guiding Sarah
off of the bed and to her regular seat by the window. Sitting her down he laid
a couple blankets over her lap before pushing open the heavy window. Her breath
seemed heavy but was definitely better than before. She gave a few small coughs
into her handkerchief just to clear her throat before giving a weak smile. Her
hand reached out to Steve, the rays of pale moonlight washing out her already
sickly skin making her look almost ghost like.
He can see the sickness in her face now when he looks at her, in her glassy
sunken eyes and cracked lips. It’s eating away at her at an alarming rate,
devouring all essence of the strong, sturdy, woman that once was, leaving
nothing but a fragile broken shell.
Steve pressed his cheek against the thin fingers, eyes closing as he kneeled in
front of Sarah. His mother was his anchor, keeping him from floating off in a
storm. The roles felt reversed but the comfort was all the same, his mother was
fading and fading fast, yet she still urged Steve to seek her strength. Letting
him know he was safe.
“ A leanbh .. ”
Her voice broke the silence with a hoarse, quiet tone, Steve’s eyes fluttered
open and he looked up at her, her slight smile still present. A sob bubbled up
and came out in a choked hiccup as tears began to swell. He pressed his face
into the blankets laid across Sarah’s lap, his throat bobbing as he cried.
Her hand soothed over Steve’s head, fingertips pushing through the blond locks
as she cooed and hummed.
“There there..sweetie..”
Taking his head into her hands she guided it up, he looked at her and she
swiped her thumbs under his eyes.
“I don’t need both of us breathless..”
She laughed and so did Steve, but the sound came out tight and strained and
though he wanted nothing but to be close to his mother, he also needed to be
strong, like she was for him. So he pulled back, rubbing his eyes with his
knuckles and getting out a shaky breath before giving a firm nod putting on a
brave face. And it was though Sarah lit up, her smile widened and the edge of
her eyes crinkled as he stood.
“Ah there’s my brave boy.”
Steve smiled too, sniffing and shaking his head sheepishly.
“Dear I would like to go back to bed now, we are having company tomorrow..”
“Of course.”
-
After putting Sarah to bed and checking in on her a few times, Steve eventually
just decides to stay on the couch for the night, it being closer to his
mother’s room in case she needs him.
As he lays back on the lumpy cushions staring up at the ceiling, looking for
images in the cracks and stains, his mind wanders to Bucky. It always wanders
to Bucky.
He covers  his face with his hands, fingertips cold on his warming cheeks. His
face flushing from equal parts embarrassment and anger. Who the hell does Bucky
think he is? Telling him what to do after leaving him like that. The absolute
gall!
He laid there just fuming kicking around on the couch and grabbing his hair,
trying to keep his frustration under wraps. It was late and he was tired, not
to mention the pure stress of his life dawning on him despite his efforts to
keep the negative thoughts out. Now his mind was just reeling. Think about how
he was going to keep up with medical bills (for both him and his ma), paying
rent, buying food, taking care of his mother, constantly getting fired from
jobs and now the sudden reemergence of James Buchanan Barnes.These problems
weighed down heavy on his weak shoulders. He felt like he had all right to
throw just a bit of a temper tantrum.
Finally getting a grip on himself he deflated against the cushions with a deep
sigh, shifting to lay on his side, staring out the window at the fading night
sky.  And though it was going to be morning soon and there  was really no
reason to try and sleep at this point, that didn’t stop him from just laying
there staring out the dingy window as the dawn slowly crept in, letting his
eyelids go heavy.
-
It’s a weird feeling, he doesn’t quite remember waking up and yet here he is
under the warm spray of water running fingers through his hair, all sensations
feeling strangely amplified. Suddenly there are another pair of hands in his
hair, running through and scratching gently at his scalp. Steve goes to let out
a noise but nothing comes out, and he doesn’t care.
He’s turning slowly now, the skin on skin contact making him gasp, the only
sound though is the water running. He doesn’t need to look up to see who it is,
there’s an arm wrapping around his waist and a hand on his cheek that he’s
falling into as if under a spell. A mouth is on his neck and it’s wet and
filthy, sucking marks here and there. Fingers are grabbing and wandering and
it’s so good. Pupils are blown and lips are fighting for dominance and he might
be pushed up against the wall, the details are becoming faded and blurry. He’s
pulling at hair, his legs are up something is pressing against him-
His eyes open quickly and his breath is heaving as he sits up slowly looking
around the room that is now bathed in the first rays of morning. Steve’s tongue
is thick in his mouth and his throat is drier than it’s ever been.
Running fingers frantically through his hair as he let out a silent groan and
flopped back onto the couch. He stared at the ceiling blinking a few times
before rubbing his eyes. He doesn’t have the strength for this.
Sitting up with a sigh he checks the time, his hair raising and blood freezing.
His shift started an hour ago, he was supposed to open the shop.
“Shit, shit, shit..”
He whispered angrily under his breath, running to his room and quickly getting
undressed.  Stopping in front of  his closet and flinging it open he grabbed a
shirt and pair of pants, pulling them on hastily.
Steve made his way out into the living room pulling on his sock nearly falling
on his ass. Buttoning up his shirt he carefully pushed opened the door to
Sarah’s room, checking in on her. She slept peacefully her chest rising and
falling with ease, he let out a relieved sigh and ducked out of the room
closing the door quietly behind him. Jogging over to the door he pulled on his
shoes and jacket, feeling the pockets for his asthma cigarettes pulling one and
quickly lighting it as he looked back to his mother’s room.
He always hated leaving her, death had a strong grip around her and he wanted
to be there to shield her from it. Turning on the heel of his foot he opened
the door and jogged down the stairs waving to his neighbor Mrs. Kennedy.
“Good morning dear, I see you slept in!”
“Yeah, do you think you could check in on my ma a few times throughout the
day?”
Mrs. Kennedy was an old frail lady with wispy gray hairs, she had many children
but they were all grown now she once told Steve with wet eyes. Her caring
nature made her rather inclined to watch Sarah while Steve was out.
“Oh of course! Of course you better get going!”
He threw a quick thank you over his shoulder and jogged down the pavement
taking a quick drag from his cigarette. The strange mix of different
nightshades alleviating his shallow breaths for now.
It took him a long while to get there, the commute taking him 40 minutes max.
He burst through the door, looking rather amess. His hair unkempt and sticking
up in awkward angles and the buttons of his shirt either left undone or in the
wrong holes his breath heaving and wheezy.
His boss stood on the other side of the cash register with a pointed look in
Steve’s direction. Steve could only shrink under the other’s eyes and the man
let out a heavy sigh removing his spectacles, cleaning them with his apron, his
head shaking.
“Steven..”
He started and placed the thin rimmed glasses back on the bridge of his nose
sighing again as he ran his hand through his thinning hair.
“Look I..I can explain.”
Steve could feel his heart dropping like lead to his feet, he was going to get
fired again.
“I gave you this job because you’re Sarah’s child but I can’t tolerate this
sort of behavior.”
If he could give any sort of response it’s be a curse, or maybe he would cry,
who knows. He felt like he was stuck in time and his body stood there frozen in
place. His boss kept speaking, but Steve didn’t listen, he didn’t need to, he’d
heard it a million times before. “Sorry, but, we’re looking for someone more
capable.” .
It really hurt because Steve really was a hard worker, he just wasn’t
“capable”. Frail and sick, and though work was supposed to be his first
priority, it never was. With his own list of ailments he often spent more time
at home than not.
“I’m sorry Steven..you’ll still get your months pay.”
Steve let out a shaky breath and stood up as straight as his spine would let
him. He wanted to keep some of his pride, and with a tight lipped smile he
nodded understandingly.
“Thank you sir for your time.”  
With that he retreated back out the door turning and walking back in the
direction he came from. His feet scuffing on the pavement, hands deep in his
pockets. The thought of telling Sarah broke his heart. She would give him that
look, saying it’s okay, even though they both knew it wasn’t. She would run
weak fingers through his hair, comforting him. He heaved out a sigh, lost deep
in thought, scenarios playing over in his head of his mother telling him she
was disappointed, although she would never say that to him. The space between
his eyebrows creased and he gulped, he won’t cry. But he couldn’t help the
tears swelling up in his eyes and blurring his already terrible vision. He
kicked a rock across the sidewalk and pursed a shaky lip, why did this have to
happen now?
Before he knew it he was in front of the stairs that led to his apartment, the
steps looking much higher than they had ever looked before. With feet as heavy
as lead, he began a very slow ascent.  At the top of the stairs he looked at
the worn out door, and with a heavy breath he finally worked up the courage to
open the door.
On the other side, the sound of chattering, laughter and music hit him first.
The second was the smell of something delicious and the scent of a heavy
cologne.
“Ma?”
His mother came out of the kitchen to meet him but his eyes snap to the person
standing next to her.
“Bucky?”
His breath actually caught, there stood his friend looking like he just walked
out of a movie. His hair was gelled back but still looked unbelievably soft,
his shirt was clean and well fitting. Steve didn’t dare let his eyes look that
frame up and down.  
“Steve we didn’t think you’d be back until later.”
Sarah’s voice drew him out of his daydream, looking almost uneasy as her eyes
flitted from her son to Bucky. Suddenly all the dread flowed back into him, he
was going to have to tell both his mom and the man he was in love that he’d
just lost his job.
With sagging shoulders and an internal groan he looked at the two of them.
“Well..you see the reason..is because..”
He rubbed the back of his neck an embarrassed blush blooming on his cheeks
spreading heat across his face to his ears and down his chest. He ignored the
flick of Bucky’s tongue against those sinful lips.
“Mr. Cassidy let me go..”
Sarah’s features softened and Bucky, well, he did nothing, this was a normal
occurrence and they all knew it.
“Oh sweetie..”
His mother’s arms opened as she stepped closer to him, he was almost reluctant
to move into her embrace. Not wanting the affection and comfort, his mother
didn’t deserve this. Though before he knew it, he was already being held by
her.
“It’s okay, Mr. Cassidy is an idiot, always has been.”  
A loud snort of laughter came from Bucky and he covered his mouth to stifle it
as they both looked at him, a smile spreading onto Steve’s face. Sarah seemed
to notice and pulled back cupping Steve’s cheeks, pressing a kiss to his
forehead before drawing back.
“Don’t be so blue, we have a guest remember.”
She looked quickly to Bucky before turning her attention back to Steve. He gave
a little nod, knowing his mother had been excited to see Bucky again, hell they
both were. After he composed himself his attention turned to the brunet.
“I thought I invited you to dinner jerk.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, stepping next to Sarah and wrapping an arm around her
shoulders.
“As if I was going to miss out on some alone time with this beautiful woman, I
mean come on Steve.”
His mother giggled into her hand her other hand lightly hitting Bucky’s chest
as he gave her a smile. That smile lit up his whole world and he hated it,
 there was no way he could actually stay mad at Bucky, which made him mad at
Bucky, it was a vicious cycle.
“I was just telling James about when you were a baby. You were so well behaved,
barely ever cried, and you had the cutest little butt I ever did see!”
The color of his whole body turned several darker shades of red as he glared at
Bucky, who was again trying to stifle a laugh, his face turning red a small
choking sound leaving him.
“Maaa..”
He whined his body deflating, feeling absolutely humiliated.
“What? I made that butt I’m allowed to be proud of my handiwork.”
Steve’s face was now in his hands, trying his damnedest to hide his
embarrassment.
-
They spent the day in the kitchen listening to Billie Holiday, cooking and
reminiscing. It was nice, it was comfortable. Bucky smiled and Steve laughed
and everything was good.
Around six they all gathered around the table to eat a delicious pot roast that
Bucky and Sarah prepared. Dinner was filled with stolen glances and casual talk
between Bucky and Steve, their dynamic was a bit rusty.
“Bucky brought me all the ingredients, wasn’t that so sweet of him?”
Steve looked across the table at Bucky over the rim of his cup suspiciously,
but hummed in agreement not to upset his mother.
“Yeah ma that was. Real sweet of him.”
Bucky practically shrank under Steve’s hard gaze. Bucky was different now, he
oozed charisma and charm, he always did, but this felt more put on, he seemed
like he was being careful. This wasn’t the same Bucky that would sit up late at
night under a fort of sheets and cushions and read science fiction novels out
loud to Steve.
This Bucky was sneaky and had secrets, Steve knew this, but he wasn’t so sure
he wanted to find out about those secrets, or if Bucky would even let him.
His mother’s coughing tore his attention from Bucky and dread washed over him.
“Ma are you alright?”
She waved a dismissive hand as her coughing began to cease.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.”
This didn’t sway Steve and he could feel how tense Bucky was from his spot on
the opposite side of the table.
“I think I need to lay down if that’s alright with you?”
Steve and Bucky nodded quickly.
“Of course ma..of course..”
Slowly she stood and so did Steve but he was given a sharp look from the woman
and sat back in his seat quickly. He watched her go, with an air of grace and
confidence, he listened to the sound of her door closing.
“She’s getting pretty bad?”
Steve looked to Bucky and looked at the table giving a slight nod.
“Yeah..”
He breathed out before standing from his seat.
“I’m going to clean up, you’re welcome to stay, I can make you some coffee?”
Bucky only nodded, Steve’s voice was weak, he would never admit it but the
other’s presence there was comforting, it wasn’t just his Ma, it was him
leaning on stronger shoulders. Bucky was strength for both Steve and Sarah.
-
The table was clean and the lights were out as they stood out on the fire
escape, smoke curling up into the air.
“I want to help Steve.”
He brought the cigarette up to his lips and took a drag, the ember on the end
lighting up. Steve sat on the other side of the escape, sketchbook in hand,
he’d like to say it had been so long since he last drew Bucky, but that would
be a lie.
There were endless pages of him. Steve could never stop drawing Bucky, whether
it was drawings in full or just a random eye or a familiar pair of lips. But it
was the first time he had drawn Bucky like this.
He was so open all the time, but there was something between them now, Bucky
was putting up a wall and Steve wanted so badly to tear it down.
“And how do you plan on doing that?”
He didn’t look up from the page, but he had stopped drawing.
“I have money Steve, I can get her the help she needs, I can get you your
medicine, get you food-”
“I don’t need you dirty money Bucky.”
Steve snapped, his eyes were full of fire and rage and Bucky just looked so
sad.
“I don’t know what you do, but I know it’s no good Buck. No one has that type
of money these days unless they’re up to no good.”
Bucky’s jaw locked and he shook his head, he had no words because Steve had
been right. An Idea struck him and Steve could see the gears turning in those
steely blue eyes.
“How..how about I pay you? It’ll be like you’re doing a service for me?”
But I wouldn’t be Buck, you’d just be giving me the money.”
Steve flipped to a new page and let out a frustrated sigh his pencil scratching
against the paper.
“You could do stuff for me, like draw and I dunno, just keep me company?”
Steve raised an eyebrow and looked to the brunet, he was desperate. With a deep
breath he weighed his options, wait til he got another job that probably won’t
stick and starve and watch his mother die right before him. Or take Bucky’s
offer, which was the more appealing of the options.
“I won’t be accidentally selling myself into the mafia or something?”
Bucky’s face turned into something close to shock.
“God no, Stevie of course not.”
“Alright..alright...fine, but I plan on actually doing work Bucky, I’m not just
going to take hand outs.”
He turned back to his drawing, chewing at the inside of his cheek feeling
Bucky’s eyes on him. 
End Notes
     This is my first work on here and to be honest I'm a bit of a shit
     writer, it's more for my own satisfaction, but hey if you also seem
     to enjoy this atrocious cliche shitstorm then, neato!
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