#pins you up against the kitchen counter when sarah leaves to get ready for school and whispers in your ear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stormyoceansmain · 4 years ago

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[im very much NOT a writer - i cannot stress this enough - but i truly mean it when i say sambucky is making me go insane. i find no other explanation for ending up writing 3.8k words of sambucky, alpine, and movie night. thank you if you decide to read this, i hope it's not too terrible]

Sam shows up at Bucky’s place for movie night with a case full of beers and ten minutes to spare.

Sarah makes fun of him for this Friday tradition they’ve been carrying out for the past few months, says he should just muster the courage to ask Bucky out on a proper date already. It doesn't matter how many times Sam told her he is just helping Bucky catch up to the 21st century, she always ends up giving him that Look that says she's not believing any words coming out of his mouth, which is kind of unfair, if you ask Sam.

Well, fine, maybe Sarah is right. Maybe Sam does want to take Bucky out on an actual date and hold his hand and kiss him goodnight and do all those sickeningly romantic stuff he used to daydream about when he was 16. Turns out former assassins who are incredibly annoying but also surprisingly kind are very much Sam's type. Go figure.

Still, they worked hard to reach the kind of friendship they currently have, and Sam doesn't want to lose that. He's also not blind to the way Bucky flirts with Sarah, and despite her insistence that Bucky does it more to rile Sam up than for any real interest in her, he’s not about to risk it all on a whim.

This resolution almost crumbles into dust a moment later, when Bucky opens the door wearing sweatpants and a blue shirt that matches his eyes. He is barefoot and his hair is getting longer, losing the harsh edges of the cut and curling slightly behind his ears. He is still all chiseled jawline and defined muscles, but he looks softer, more comfortable in his own skin, and the easy way he smiles at Sam makes a heavy warmth pool around Sam’s stomach.

“Hey,” Bucky greets him, sliding his metal arm around Sam's shoulders to pull him into a brief hug.

This, too, is something of a novelty. There's always been a sort of intense physicality about Bucky, both in how he carries himself and in how he is always aware of the bodies moving around him, but the casual affection, the playful abandon with which he touches and lets others touch him these days, feels like a wonder. Sam would have never expected it, and he had come to love and hate it at the same time.

“Hey yourself,” Sam greets back, splaying his free hand across Bucky's back, allowing himself to hold him there and breathe him in for a second, a fresh lemony smell coming off his hair, before giving him a quick pat on the shoulder and putting a respectable amount of space between them.

He buries his hands deep into the pocket of his jacket and follows Bucky inside, trying to resist the urge to slide his fingers under the hem of Bucky's shirt and feel the warm skin underneath it.

It's the first time Sam steps into Bucky’s apartment since Bucky took home the stray kitten he found on the side of the road three weeks ago, and the changes around it are staggering. Sam was used to empty spaces and few, essential furniture, but now the space in front of the window is occupied by a giant cat tower, and lots of smaller scratching posts are scattered all over the living room, along with different kinds of cat beds and toys.

“I see you redecorated,” Sam says with a grin.

Bucky shrugs, opening two of the beer bottles with a quick twist of his metal hand. “Cats need stuff.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I'm glad.” Sam grabs one of the bottle and clinks it against Bucky's. “Pets are great company and the place looks much better like this. I wouldn't have pinned you down as the crazy cat lady type, but it's always better than Robocop.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, takes a sip of his beer. Sam catches the smile he is trying to hide anyway.

Sam knocks their shoulders together, asks, “So where is she?”

“Hiding, probably,” Bucky says, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “She doesn't like strangers.”

Sam stops with the beer halfway to his mouth. “Excuse you,” he exclaims, outraged. “I very clearly remember accompanying you to the vet the first time you brought her in. I also sacrificed two of my shirts for her and have scars on my forearms where she scratched me to death. I think I deserve more than being considered a stranger. We basically co-parented that cat for the first few days!”

“That's nice,” Bucky deadpans. “Why don't you go tell her that? I'm sure the speech will convince her to keep the claws to herself.”

Sam glares at him and Bucky pats him on the arm. “Just relax,” he adds, turning to open the fridge and taking foods out for dinner. “If we let her be, Alpine will come out eventually.”

Bucky is right, of course. Sam had a few experiences with strays growing up, cats and dogs alike looking for shelter from Louisiana's storms under their porch, and no amount of treats he and Sarah tried to give them had been able to lure them out from their hiding spot. The best course of action in these cases was to wait, letting them come out when they felt safe enough.

It still weirdly feels like a rejection of some sort, but he tries not to let it show.

Sam takes a swig from his beer and asks, “Alpine?”

Bucky turns on the stove and shrugs again. He remains silent for a moment, a distant look on his face that Sam has learned to associate to memories better buried and forgotten. He is about to start telling Bucky about the science fair at the boys' school to change the subject, when Bucky speaks again, low and careful.

“She reminds me of the snow on the Alps.”

He doesn't elaborate on that, but Sam nods anyway, like he understands. He doesn't, like Bucky will never be able to fully understand what it means for Sam to carry the shield, but it's okay. They have each other, and that's still something.

Sam taps his foot against Bucky's bare one, watches Bucky's entire being exhale and relax. “Couldn't you have named her Snowflakes or something like that?”

Bucky levels him with a stare that tells him he would rather jump off another plane rather than calling his cat ‘Snowflakes’, and Sam laughs.

The far off look in Bucky’s eyes melts away and they fall into an easy rhythm, Sam sitting at the kitchen table and talking about some renovations he and Sarah would like to do to the house, Bucky cutting the vegetables to sauté.

They have moved on to argue about the best way to season chicken breasts – you cannot leave cayenne pepper out of the spice blend – when Sam catches a flash of white out of the corner of his eyes, and interrupts himself mid-rant.

A second later, Alpine jumps on the kitchen counter, sniffing the air.

It's been only three weeks since Sam last saw her, but she's already grown a lot, and looks much better too: her fur is shiny and clean, her eyes bright, and the slight sprain that caused her to limp around seems to be completely healed.

Alpine lets out a soft chirping sound and headbutts Bucky's arm, rubbing her head against him.

The smile Bucky turns to her is blinding, and Sam has to look away before he ends up doing something stupid, like climb over the table and kiss him.

“I know you're here for the chicken,” Bucky tells her, scratching her behind the ears. “But you can't eat this one.”

He scoops her up with a single hand, ignoring the disapproving meow that follows, and deposits her on the table right next to Sam's arm. Sam freezes, unprepared for the sudden proximity and recalling how quickly she can turn around and scratch, but as soon as Bucky's hand retreats, she is moving away, giving Sam a wide berth. She doesn't go back into hiding, though, just settles on the corner farther away from him and stares him down in a way that reminds him so much of Bucky, Sam doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry.

He is also struck by the sudden need to make Alpine like him.

“Is she gonna maul me if I try to give her a treat?” Sam asks.

Bucky tilts his head, considering, which does very little to reassure Sam about the safety of his fingers.

“I wouldn’t try hand-feeding her,” Bucky answers, fishing out a bag of treats from one of the cupboards. “But she likes to chase them.”

Alpine observes with quiet intensity as Bucky dumps a few treats into Sam's hands, and when Sam tosses one a few feet away she jumps down the table and runs after it, grabs it with a paw.

“Alright,” Sam declares, “that's pretty cute.”

Sam spends the next few minutes throwing treats at Alpine, inching them closer and closer to himself to test how willing she is to get near him with the proper incentive. The last one he places right in front of his feet, then he sits back and waits. Alpine hesitates, eyes flitting between him and the treat as to evaluate if it's safe enough, until finally she starts to move, slowly, slowly. She gets close enough to stretch her paw out, pull the treat towards herself and take it out of reach to eat somewhere else. Sam still takes it as a win.

Bucky clears his throat and announces that dinner is ready, so Sam leaves Alpine alone and helps him set the table.

Dinner is nice. Bucky makes a glazed chicken with honey and garlic that it's to die for, which Sam finds utterly unfair, considering he comes from a time where spices were believed to be a menace to the public.

He still goes back for seconds, and by the time they move to the living room to watch the movie, Sam feels full and content.

He finds Alpine curled up on one end of the couch, and while he believes they made some progress in their relationship, he doesn’t think either of them is ready to bring it to the next level, so he takes the seat on the other side, careful not to disturb her.

Bucky doesn’t say anything about it, just flops down between Sam and the cat with ease, his knee bumping into Sam’s.

This week they are watching the second movie in The Hobbit trilogy, if only for the horrified look in Bucky’s face when Sam told him that not only they made a movie out of the book, but that they actually managed to stretch it into three. Bucky, it turns out, is one of those people who notices every little changes from the original material, disapproves of them on principle, and is very vocal about his displeasure, exactly like the old man he actually is.

Sam had almost fell off the couch laughing during the first movie, and it had taken him a while to convince Bucky to give the other two a chance. Maybe it was a little assholey of him, knowing that it only gets worse, but just because he likes the guy it doesn’t mean Sam doesn’t want to subject him to some bad cinema for his own entertainment. After all, that’s what friends are for.

It doesn't take long for the comments to start up again. Bucky holds up for thirty minutes, rolling his eyes and grumbling under his breath from time to time, but then Legolas and Tauriel show up and Bucky turns his head to look at Sam, face completely blank, says, “Who the fuck are these people.”

Sam bursts out laughing, and it only gets worse when they reach the scene between Kili and Tauriel in the Woodland Realm: Bucky throws his hands up, exclaims, “Oh, come on,” and starts complaining about how they made the dwarf hot just to add a romance. It has Sam in stitches, and he has to grab onto Bucky's shoulder to stay upright and not end up falling into Bucky's lap.

The tirade ends with Bucky sulking and shaking his head, and Sam is glad for the temporary reprieve just so he can catch his breath. He feels flushed and warm, cheeks hurting from smiling, and the quiet is comfortable, familiar.

After a while, his eyes grow heavy, and he realizes he nodded off only when a light weight sets on his shoulder, jerking him awake.

The movie has ended, screen back on the Netflix title page, and Bucky fell asleep as well, head drooping until it had come to rest against Sam’s body.

The metal arm is glinting gold and blue in the light, and Sam stares down at it, then up at the lines of Bucky’s face, the soft waves of his hair. It always surprises him how vulnerable Bucky looks like this, how younger, and it’s so hard to remember there was a time Sam had actually been scared of him, of what he could do. Now, he would trust Bucky with anything. His life, his family, his home. His heart, too, if Bucky ever wanted it.

Sam knows he should wake him up, send him to bed so he can sleep comfortably there while Sam stretches out on the couch, but he also knows that Bucky still has trouble sleeping sometimes, and Sam doesn't have the heart to wake him up if it isn't really necessary. He’s well aware it's also a little bit selfish, because it's nice, having Bucky this close, warm and solid and smelling of lemon.

Sam takes a deep breath and rests his head on top of Bucky's. He thought he could handle this thing he has for Bucky, keep it under control, but he’s starting to realize he might have actually underestimated the size of his own feelings, which could become a serious problem in the future.

For now, though, Sam closes his eyes and lets himself have this.

The next time Sam wakes up, it's to something walking all over him. He blinks against the sudden light and when his vision clears, he finds Alpine sitting on his lap.

Sam stares at her, wondering for a moment if he is still asleep and dreaming all of this up, but his neck is sore, his arm heavy from Bucky resting against it in his sleep; there’s the beginning of a headache pulsing behind is eyes, and a pressure in his bladder telling him he should probably get up.

Alpine sniffs at his shirt and Sam tentatively raises his free hand, strokes a finger between her ears. She leans into the touch, head tilting up and guiding Sam's hand under her chin. Sam tries really hard not to shriek with delight.

“Oh, you're a sweetheart,” he says, a grin spreading out across his face. “Just like your owner. All tough and fierce on the outside, but adorable and charming on the inside.”

Alpine meows back at him, like she agrees with that statement, and Sam tenses up, glances at the steady rise and fall of Bucky's chest.

“We gotta be quiet,” he tells Alpine, petting her down her side. “We don't want to wake him up.”

“I'm already awake,” comes Bucky's voice next to him.

Sam's entire body jerks in surprise, and Alpine leaps off him, startled.

“Man, don't you do that ever again,” Sam says, a hand placed over his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Bucky hums, sounding way more amused than he has any right to be, and sits up.

Blood rushes back into Sam's arm, and while Sam is glad to start feeling it again, he's already mourning the loss of contact between them. Except Bucky doesn't go far, just adjusts his position to angle his body towards Sam and rest his head on the back of the couch. It's easier to look at each other, like this, but they are now so close that Bucky's soft breaths are hitting the exposed line of skin above Sam's shirt, the hollow of his neck, making him shiver.

“So,” Bucky says, dragging the word out, lips tilting up at the corner. “I'm adorable and charming?”

Shit.

Of course Bucky would hear that, that's just Sam's luck. God, he is never going to speak again. He will take a vow of silence like in one of those monastic orders and move some place far and secluded where he won't be able to embarrass himself anymore.

He swallows, makes himself let out a laugh. It's meant to be mocking, but it sounds more nervous than anything else. “I think old age is making you hear things,” Sam still tries to deflect, “I clearly said annoying and self-centered.”

Bucky jabs him in the side with a metal finger. “Nice try, Samuel,” Bucky says, grinning widely. “But I've been told I'm a sweetheart.”

Sam's cheeks heat up. “I was talking about Alpine!”

He wonders if maybe T'Challa would let him hide in Wakanda for a while, just long enough for Sam to regain some kind of dignity. He hopes against all hopes that Bucky will have mercy of him and drop the subject, but of course Bucky doesn't. Sam wouldn't either, if their roles were switched.

“You said she is like her owner,” Bucky points pout, eyes bright and so very blue. He pokes Sam in the ribs again. “Which means, you think I’m a sweetheart, too.”

Sam bats his hand away. He may have embarrassed himself and he's lucky if he ends up this night without Bucky realizing Sam has feelings for him, but he is Captain frigging America. If he has to go down, he will go down fighting.

“What you are, it’s a nuisance,” Sam says. “And a creep. Who the hell pretends to be asleep when they are actually awake?”

“I wasn't pretending, you just assumed I was still sleeping.”

“Anyone would assume that, if you don't say anything.”

“I thought you were going to move as soon as you woke up, it's not my fault you didn't.”

“I was trapped between your heavy ass and your cat. What's your excuse for not moving?”

The argument comes to a halt, an awkward silence stretching between them as Bucky lowers his eyes, scratches the back of his neck. He clears his throat, shrugs.

“Your shoulder is nice,” he says in the end.

It's Bucky's turn to blush, a darker pink dusting his cheeks, and Sam feels like he missed something important.

“My shoulder?” Sam repeats.

Bucky doesn't answer him for a moment, then he straightens up on the couch, rolls back his shoulders like he is bracing himself. He looks up at Sam, and all Sam can see are his eyes.

“It’s comfortable,” Bucky whispers. “And I always sleep better when you’re around.”

Sam's mouth is suddenly very dry, and his heart is drumming against his chest in a way he has come to associate with diving down in midair, or dropping from a high place before his wings open up. This, too, feels a little like falling.

“Buck,” Sam says, because he thinks they are on the verge of something here, but he needs to be sure, doesn't want to mess this up and do something he's going to regret just because his head wants so desperately to see what's not actually there. “You gotta tell me if I'm reading this wro--”

Bucky kisses him.

It's a short kiss, just a soft press of Bucky's lips against his own and he's already gone, moving back to look at Sam with wide eyes, face open and vulnerable.

“Okay?” Bucky asks, and if he didn't sound so uncertain, like he's expecting Sam to push him away at any moment, Sam would laugh at how much of an idiot they both are.

Instead, he holds Bucky's chin between his fingers and pulls him back in. The kiss is deeper this time, turns into a wet slide of tongues and a harsh grate of stubble that makes Sam's insides feel tangled and hot. Bucky's arm slides around Sam's waist, and Sam moves his hand from Bucky's chin into his hair, grips it in a way that makes Bucky exhale sharply into his mouth. Sam wants to touch him everywhere, and he moves his free hand to do just that when a long, loud meow interrupts them.

They break apart just in time for Alpine to jump on the couch and sprawl in the space between them.

Bucky huffs out a small laugh, pets her from head to tail. He looks lovely, with his hair sticking up in odd places from Sam's fingers raking through it, his lips red from kissing, and Sam itches to go back for more, to lay him down and map every single part of Bucky's body with his mouth. He has, however, a horrible feeling about this.

“We will never be able to do anything with her around, won't we?” Sam asks, voicing his thoughts out loud.

Bucky sends him an amused smile. “Someone feels confident.”

Sam rolls his eyes, bumps their knees together. “Says the one who was about to climb on top of me.”

He's pretty sure he was the one grabbing and pulling Bucky closer, actually, but it doesn't seem like Bucky is going to call him out on it.

“It was a good kiss,” Bucky says, smile going soft at the edges, turning shyer.

“It really was,” Sam agrees, and because Sarah is always right, even if he'll never admit it in front of her, he adds, “Wanna go out on a proper dinner, see a movie? Maybe do the kissing part again?”

He's not expecting the way Bucky's lips drop down at those words, and Sam's heart sinks. Maybe he did read this wrong, after all. Maybe Bucky wanted to keep things casual, no string attached, and Sam just ruined everything. He tries to tell himself it was better to know that now, before things got too serious on his side, but it gives him very little comfort.

Bucky takes a deep breath, lets it out in a huff. “I don’t know, man,” he says. “If you make me watch another one of these godawful movies I’m afraid I'm gonna have to break up with you before this relationship even starts.”

Sam blinks at him, then bursts out laughing, sudden and loud. “God, you're an asshole,” he declares, but there's no heat behind it, and when he searches for Bucky's hand, Bucky intertwines their fingers together, places a kiss on the back of Sam's hand as an apology.

“I’m lucky you have terrible tastes, then,” Bucky says.

Sam really has questionable tastes, and if you had told him a few years ago that this was how his life was going to turn out, he would have probably laughed, or worse, tried to stop it from happening. But now, sitting there with Bucky grinning at him and Alpine purring between them, he feels lucky too.

#i don't have a solid enough grasp on the english language for any of this and yet here we are #you can easily spot where i didn't know what the hell i was doing #when i say im literally losing my mind over these two..#most self indulgent thing i've ever done im sorry for subjecting you to it #sambucky #winterfalcon #sam wilson #bucky barnes #alpine #also - embarrassingly enough - i started to write this before the video of bucky saying he wanted to move in with sam #otherwise i would have made them roommate

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sweetdreamstrilogy · 6 years ago

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Chapter 1

Once Upon a Time

…there was a stupid boy and his stupid name was Derrick. That’s me.

I guess it all started when I first laid eyes on her, but it wouldn’t make sense to tell you that yet. We have to go back and talk about Chicago first.

I had just turned seventeen and my junior year of high school was coming to a slow and restless end. It was nearly summer when fate intervened, on the best and worst day of my life.

Angela was the catalyst - Angela who’d been my first everything. Angela who smoked and drank and partied, went home, got thrown around by her dad and then did it all over again. Angela who was always trying to destroy herself. Angela who was always trying to destroy me.

She called me at three in the morning that night, sobbing into the phone while a party raged in the background. “Something bad happened.”

I was already out of bed and pulling on my jeans. “Where are you? What happened?”

She didn’t answer.

“Angela! What the hell is going on?”

“It’s Dan,” She cried, but it almost sounded like laughter. I should’ve known then but all I could think was who's Dan? Where could she be? Who the fuck is having a party tonight? “He took advantage of me, I swear I didn’t do anything, I swear...”

“What did he do?” It felt like an arrow thrummed through the air, straight into my chest. I knew this was gonna happen one of these nights, hanging out with these fucking people I didn't know, getting so drunk she couldn't see straight...

"I don't know..." She sobbed. In the living room, I tip-toed in the dark, searching the kitchen counter for my mom’s car keys.

“It’s okay. I’m coming to get you, I’m on my way.”

“No!” She yelped into the phone. I went still at the sound. “Don’t come, Sarah is taking me home.”

“Dammit, Angela, tell me where you are.”

But she’d already hung up.

I stared at the dark screen of my phone for a minute, wanting to slam it onto the counter and break the damn thing to pieces. She was always doing this to me, calling with a crisis that kept me up all night, one way or another - worrying about her or coming to the rescue. I almost got in the car and drove to her house but...the last time I showed up while her dad was home she came to school the next day with a brand new shiner. I couldn't go there, risk him taking it out on her again. No, I'd have to wait to see her until school - if she even showed up - and that was still hours off.

I thought about trying to go back to sleep but I knew I'd just lay there, wondering what happened, how bad it was. So, like many sleepless nights before, I climbed up to the roof of the trailer and waited for the sky to lighten. I tried calling her back, once, twice, smoked three cigarettes in a row waiting to see if she'd call back but she never did. Soon the golden rays of sunrise put the color back in the world, illuminating the trailer park in which I lived, the neighbor's overflowing trash, Cliff's rusty truck parked in the dirt, my mom's ancient looking Geo Metro next to it. Another damn day, I thought, looking at it all.

Below me I heard them waking up and knew it was time to go. As I slid down off the roof, I realized my mom's keys were still in my back pocket and rushed to get back to the kitchen before-

"Where you goin' so early?" There was Cliff in his yellowed wife-beater, bottom lip already puckered with chew. I grimaced at the sight of him.

"Nowhere."

He spat into an empty cup on the counter. "Not to save that little bitch again."

"Cliff-" My mom had appeared behind him, her blonde hair a mess, grey robe hanging loose around her. Seemed like she was wasting away right before my eyes.

"What? What else do I call her?" Cliff laughed, showing his blackened teeth.

"Shut your fucking mouth." I pushed past him, heading for my room.

"What'd you say?"

He tried to grab my arm, pull me back around but I shrugged him off hard - hard enough that he had to take a step back not to lose his balance. "I said shut your fucking mouth."

"Derrick-" My mom's voice matched her nightgown, faded and stretched thin, and that took all the fight out of me. I went for my room before he could say anything else, but not before catching her exchange a nervous glance with his furious one.

Dammit, all I wanted to do was make a run for it, get to school early and catch Angela before homeroom but I couldn't leave them alone, not like this. No doubt she'd have new bruises by the time I got home from school, always "slipping" in those non-slip shoes of hers. No, I wasn't going anywhere until one of them left for work, so I just sat on my bed with the door cracked and tried not to listen. Course that's kinda hard when the walls are thinner than a sheet of paper.

"Ungrateful little shit." I could even hear him spitting into his spit cup between clattering from the kitchen, where my mom was no doubt busying herself doing the dishes, making him a breakfast he didn't deserve. "Who the hell does he think he is? Talking to me like that, I'll give him a taste of his own fucking medicine..."

I wished he would try but he knew better than that - three years of hell and the only time my mom ever came close to leaving him was when he gave me those stitches. I traced the path of the scar across my eyebrow, a familiar habit now, a gesture that would always bring to mind the taste of blood and failure. I was the only one who remembered how easily she took him back.

So yeah, the truth was it probably wouldn't matter if he beat me to death with his bare hands, she wasn't going anywhere. But he didn't know that and he wasn't gonna risk losing his caretaker, his punching bag. All I could do was keep hoping he'd go out like my dad did, crash into a tree some foggy night after too many drinks. Poof, gone from our lives forever. Maybe then we could go back to the way things were...she was happy once wasn't she? I tried to remember back before the relapses, before Cliff, before any of it but all I could find were the things I had to bury.

"Breakfast is ready!" Her voice brought me back.

"Not hungry!" I yelled back, even though my stomach felt empty. I couldn't stand the thought of sitting at the table together like some fucked up little family. Through the wall, Cliff was still complaining;

"What is this crap, Marla? Burnt shit, your cooking's worthless as you are-" This brought me to my feet. Something crashed.

Out in the living room he'd swept his plate off the table like a toddler throwing a tantrum and she was on hands and knees, picking up bacon and bits of egg from molding linoleum. I wanted to lunge across the table, bloody my knuckles until this feeling left me but one look at her reminded me every blow would hit her just as hard. I went to my knees instead, picking up the mess.

"It's okay, Derrick, I got it. You get off to school now." She said, not meeting my eyes but I could see her hands were shaking.

"Yeah, shouldn't you get walking?" Cliff sneered, looking down at us from his throne at the kitchen table. It took all I had not to yank him out of his chair.

"Can I get a ride?" I said to my mom, helping her to her feet. Cliff's grin fell.

"Sure, honey. Just gimme a minute, gotta get dressed."

She set the broken plate down on the counter and disappeared into the back bedroom, leaving Cliff and I alone, a rare occasion. He was watching me, I turned to face him.

"You think you're something tough." He said with a chuckle, stuffing more snuff into his cheek.

"I could kill you." God knows I'd thought of a hundred ways to do it but she'd just find someone else.

"Huh, like to see you try." He spat into his cup and wiped the black drool off his chin with the back of a hand.

"Maybe one of these days you will." I swallowed down wave after wave of rage, knowing that's what he wanted - an outburst, a reason to turn my mom against me, separate us more than he and the alcohol already had. And I couldn't let that happen, the thread was thin enough already, one more hard tug and it was gonna break for good.

"You really think you can save her?" He said and I wasn't sure if he meant Angela or my mom. I ground my teeth together so I wouldn't take the bait. "You can't save nobody."

The punch to the gut was that he was right. He knew it and I knew it. There was nothing I could do, there never had been, she was lost to me from day one and I was stuck in an endless loop, watching her kill herself slowly, slowly in any way she could, leaving me to do the same because I didn't know any other way.

"You ready to go?" My mom emerged in her pin-striped dress and not-so-white apron, stained from two years running around in the same grease trap.

"Yeah, one sec." I grabbed my backpack from my room and when I came back she was kissing him on the head like nothing happened and he was grabbing her waist with dirt under his nails and fingers blackened in every crevice and crease, stained in years of dirt and oil and grease. These were the subtle things that broke my back. The screen door shook as it slammed shut behind me.

But outside wasn't much better, I could still hear every word.

"-trying to break the damn door. I should kick his ass out, he can live on the street-"

I almost started for the train-tracks, a familiar walk through tangled woods. I could always lose myself there, playing chicken with the train, walking for miles, knowing I was lost but also knowing that the tracks would lead me home. Problem was I never wanted to go home, if was up to me I would've spent every night lying in a field with only the stars and the crickets. It was peaceful there, nothing could go wrong. But before long I'd start to wonder what was happening at home, knowing every minute I wasn't there was another chance to lose it all.

The screen door whined as it opened - too late to make a run for it - and my mom emerged a second later, looking stamped out like the butt of a cigarette. She didn't meet my eyes as she unlocked her car door and then leaned over to unlock my side. She turned the key, once, twice, trying to get the engine to start. On the third try it groaned to life and we started down the dirt road that would lead us out of here, if only we could just keep driving.

We sat in silence but my head was busy thinking of a thousand things I could say to her. Problem was I'd said them all before and it never changed a damn thing, so I just kept my mouth shut for once, saving up my breath to waste on Angela later.

"You working tonight?" My mom filled the tense silence as we turned out onto the main road, content to pretend like nothing happened as usual.

"Yeah, at five."

"Well, I could see if anybody wants to give away a shift. Do a double, keep you company?" She said hopefully, her way of making up for this morning without saying a word about it. I wanted to tell her she should just go home and relax for once, but the only way to make a Friday night shift longer would be standing there scrubbing dishes, wondering if tonight was the night Cliff lost his shit again, if tonight was the night she relapsed again. At least at work I could keep an eye on her.

"Yeah, that'd be cool."

She gave a faint smile.

"Here." I slid a depressingly thin wad of cash out of my wallet and held it out to her. I'd been bussing tables after school almost a year and the money never got better, but at least it was something.

"Derrick, you keep it, it's your money. You worked hard for it."

"I don't want it." I kept enough for cigarettes but the rest went to her, no matter how many times she tried to refuse it. I just hoped it was helping somehow and not contributing to Cliff's beer fund. "It's for you, for bills or whatever. The air conditioner. Tires."

She sighed, tucking the bills into her apron. "Thank you."

"I just wish I had more to give you."

She squeezed my hand but still couldn't look at me. "I know the feeling." She put her hand back on the steering wheel and went quiet for a long moment, then said softly, "Sorry about this morning."

I turned away from the window to look at her. She finally cast me a sorry glance and I almost let it go...but dammit, there had to be some combination of words that would convince her and I was never going to quit trying to find them.

"It's not your fault, mom." Reasoning, the first stage. "It's him, he's the asshole, why can't you see that?"

"He doesn't mean it." Her lips dug little graves at the edges of her mouth. "He's tired, he goes through a lot at work, you don't see that."

There were a thousand cuts in every word she used to defend him. I sank into my seat.

"He's a piece of shit." Anger.

"Derrick-" She sighed, lips settling into a thin stubborn line. “He agreed to go to counseling with me. At the church.”

“Again? Yeah cause that worked so well the last time.”

"Things are different now."

“Since when?” More anger. “Since he dropped out of rehab? He still drinks every day. It's not good for you to be around that."

"It doesn't bother me-"

"Mom, he hit you, he made you relapse, he-"

"That was my fault-"

"No, it wasn't. Stop telling yourself that." She just stared out the windshield. Could she even hear me? I was already to begging. "Mom, I know you get lonely but you don't need him. We can leave, move back to the city-"

She just shook her head no, like it was a sad fact of life, an immutable truth. "Someday you'll understand."

"No. I won't." Depression.

"When you're in love."

I folded my arms over my chest, thinking about Angela. "Maybe I am."

"You wouldn't say maybe."

I shook my head, finally at the last stage - giving up - and punched the radio on. She kept on driving like nothing happened. I stared out the window as a train passed in the opposite direction and wished I was on the tracks. Soon McKinley High was looming on the horizon. She stopped the car in front of the main entrance and looked over at me, her mouth twisted up in resolute, weary sadness.

“Have a good day at school.” She said. I wanted to say something, to ease the tension between us, lighten the look on her face but I just nodded and got out of the car.

The usual morning chaos dragged me through crowded halls, thrashing with a thousand sounds, voices, faces I didn't know that didn't know me but regarded me with eyes hostile or wanting or empty. I found Angela by her locker, looking hungover and despondent. She frowned when she saw me.

"Ang, what the hell happened last night? Are you okay?" She just slammed her locker door shut and started down the hall, saying;

"It's nothing, sorry I even called."

"What the fuck does that mean?" I wove through the chaos, trying to keep up with her. "Hey," I grabbed her hand and pulled her off to the side. "What happened? Tell me."

She just shrugged, shaking her head. "I don't remember."

"You said some guy Dan took advantage of you. Who the fuck is Dan?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just this guy on the football team."

"What did he do? I swear to God-"

"Nothing."

"Then why-"

"I don't know, I was trashed."

"So nothing happened?"

"I mean, we hooked up I guess-"

"And you said no, you didn't want to?"

"Of course!" She swatted my shoulder. "I'm with you, idiot. Look, I just wanna forget it-"

"Fuck that, he's not just gonna get away with it."

"Seriously, just let it go." The bell rang and she tugged on my hand. "Come on."

My chance came at lunch. The football players were always hanging around under the bleachers smoking and that’s where I found him.

There were three of them, passing around a cigarette. Anyone else would’ve walked away, waited until he was alone to start something. Not me. Not stupid Derrick. They didn’t even look up when I approached them.

’“Dan?” I said, looking between the three of them, hoping one of them would give me a clue. A stocky guy in the middle looked up, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Yeah.” He regarded me with lazy eyes and didn't have a chance to dodge when my fist collided with his face. His neck jerked back and with a crack blood began to gush from his nose. Then his friends were on me.

Before long I was lying on my back in the damp grass, blood in my mouth, watching a cloud float by in an otherwise empty blue sky. My chest felt too heavy, I couldn’t take a breath or hear anything but ringing in my ears where one of them had socked me.

I couldn't see them anymore so thought they might’ve left. No such luck. Two of them pulled me up and my knees flapped beneath me, useless. Dan came into blurry view. He was licking at his split lip, which made me grin, showing a mouthful of blood.

“You piece of shit.” Dan wiped his face with the back of his hand. His knuckles came away bloody. “Angela is a fucking slut, you can have her.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, lunging but the jackets held me back. “She told me everything, you asshole, she was drunk.”

“Yeah, she was.” Dan smirked, “But I can promise you one thing,” He stepped closer to me, so close I could feel his breath on my face. “She wanted it.”

His fist barreled into my gut, my knees gave out and struck the ground. The two jackets released me suddenly and I went face-first into the grass. A boot struck out and connected with my ribs - something cracked, I lost my breath.

“Tell her thanks for a great night.” I flinched as warm spit ran down my cheek and watched their shoes stomp away in the grass.

They didn’t get very far though. A fourth set of shoes had joined them on the horizon and these shoes were recognizably polished - the principal. Shit, what the hell was he doing out here? I pushed myself up to my knees and spat blood into the grass.

“Help him up!” Principal Khol was saying to the jackets, who were looking sheepish now.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I growled, bringing myself to my feet at last. The world tilted precariously for a long moment and then fell into back place.

“He started it!” Dan whined. “Look, I'm bleeding!” Principal Khol ignored him, surveying me with a disappointed frown.

“Yeah, so is he. Do you need to see the nurse?” Principal Khol asked me. I shook my head, spitting more blood into the grass, where it congealed like some kind of macabre morning dew. “Good. You three, I’ll deal with you shortly. Derrick, in my office.” Dan and I exchanged a glare. “NOW.”

I followed Principal Khol across the football field, where girls paused from their lunches to watch me, through the halls, where kids peered at me from behind their lockers, and into his office, where the receptionist shook her head at the sight of me.

I collapsed into Principal Khol’s office chair, which I’d been in so many times it seemed molded to fit me. He sat across from me, shifting papers from one side of the desk to another so he had a place to fold his hands.

“Derrick.” Principal Khol shook his head, looking disappointed. I didn’t see why, I wasn’t his kid. Sometimes I was his problem but definitely not his responsibility. If he wanted me to feel bad for bloodying the face of the guy who hurt Angela, then he was going to be very disappointed. I only felt relief and a satisfaction that ran as deep as my bones. “There’s nothing I can do for you now but I need to know why.”

“What are you even talking about?” I said, shaking my head. Things were swimming, I wondered if I had a concussion. One ear was still ringing.

“I’m responsible for the kids here, you understand that much at least, right?” I had to stop from rolling my eyes. Now he was gonna be a condescending asshole, on top of everything else. “If I can figure out why you squandered all your potential for cigarettes and partying and fighting then maybe I can stop someone else from doing it.”

“I didn’t squander shit.” I needed to spit blood again, it was welling up between my teeth.

“You did and you are. Your scores when you transferred here, they were enough to get you into a four year college easily. You could’ve gone Ivy League if you’d tried.” Principal Khol shook his head. “Not anymore.”

“Not this again.” I shook my head, swallowing blood.

“No, not again. There’s nothing I can do to help you anymore Derrick.” He took a deep breath and looked at me. “You’re expelled.”

For a minute I didn’t fully understand him. The words made it to my ears but not to my brain.

“Expelled.” I repeated.

“Yes. Kicked out, expelled.”

“Can you do that?”

“Yes. And I have to. This is your third strike and we have a no violence policy. I’ve told you that again and again.”

“Hear me out! Dan took advantage of a girl, my girlfriend at a party while she was drunk! Is he going to be expelled too?”

“Dan is a separate matter that is none of your business. I assure you all of this will be investigated and dealt with. If you focused on your own business for once then maybe this wouldn’t be happening.”

“Well…what the fuck.”

“Language.”

“Sorry. Fuck. Sorry. Do I have to go to another school?”

“That will be up to you and your family.”

“Just my mom.”

“Yes, you and your mother.”

“Can I go home then?”

“Your mother is on her way to pick you up, Trudy called her already.”

“Jesus is she on speed dial or something? I can just walk.”

“She has to sign a few things before we can let you leave.”

“I’ll bring the forms to her, I need to get out of here.”

“Just sit Derrick, there’s something else you and I and your mother need to discuss.”

“Fine, but can I go to the bathroom at least?”

Principal Khol rolled his eyes, threw up his hands, given up. “Go for it.”

I stumbled out of the room and across the hall, into the nearest boy’s bathroom, which was blessedly empty. I locked myself in the farthest stall, closest to the window and sat on the toilet.

“Fuck.” I whispered to myself. What the fuck was going on? Expelled? I couldn’t think straight. My ears were still ringing and my head ached and my skin felt tight from nicotine deprivation. I pulled a squashed pack of cigarettes from my back pocket and withdrew the lucky, the only one that hadn't split. My hands shook as I flicked the lighter but the first inhale made me go still.

Breathe. I inhaled again, exhaling in the direction of the cracked bathroom window. Breathe. It wasn’t so bad. I didn’t like school anyway, wasn’t any good at it no matter what Principal Khol seemed to think. Those scores were from years ago anyway - before weed and alcohol and one or two minor concussions. It wasn’t so bad. At least I would still have Angela, I wouldn’t see her at school as much but I hardly did anyway except during lunch. Maybe I could drop out all together, get a job and save up enough to get us a place in the city when she graduated, get her away from her dad, get me away from Cliff…

I made it halfway through my cigarette before the bathroom door squealed opened, followed by the patter of shoes which disappeared into a stall. I took one last drag of my cigarette and flushed the rest. Time was up.

Outside the stall a dirty mirror greeted me - I cautiously raised my eyes to look at myself. Well, I was still bloody and the bruises were starting to rise already, colorful little continents pushing their way up through my skin. I ran the tap and splashed it over my face, rinsed my mouth out, staining the sink in pink. I didn’t look much better but that was the best I could do.

The halls were still empty. I started back toward the office but didn’t quite make it before I heard my name.

“Derrick!” My mother called, her work shoes squealing on the linoleum as she broke into a jog toward me. I took two long steps forward and then she’d reached me and was holding my face, examining the bruises and shaking her head. “God, Derrick.” She’d come straight from shift at the diner - her eyes were all bloodshot and she smelled like sweat and grease. She started to choke up, looking at me.

“Mom, it’s ok, it doesn’t even hurt.” I lied, trying to crack a grin, hoping there wasn’t blood in my teeth anymore. She shook her head, exhaling loudly.

“What happened?” The look on her face, her lips sewn together in a grim line, her eyes tearing, frustrated, made me go quiet. “You knew they weren’t gonna give you another chance!” She stamped a foot. “Dammit.” She rubbed her eyes.

“I…I didn’t think, I-” It was true. The consequences of going after Dan had never crossed my mind. All I could think of was Angela crying into the phone, all I could imagine was what he might’ve done to her. The rest was simple.

“Ah, there you are.” Principal Khol’s voice came from behind me. “Hello, Ms. Woods.” He said, nodding toward my mother. “Let’s take a seat in my office.”

Both my mother and I followed him sheepishly, the screw-up kid and the screw-up mom bracing for a lecture. Principal Khol pulled out a chair for her. She sat, crossing her legs at the ankle, where a tear in her panty-hose was widening. There was silence for a long moment as everyone settled in. Principal Khol folded his hands on top of his desk, his eyes going between the two of us. He cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry to bring you all the way down here, Marla.” Principal Khol said. “But if we’re going to go through with this, we need to act now.”

“Is there still a possibility he could get in?” My mom asked him. I looked between the two of them - what the fuck were they talking about?

“What are you talking about?” I directed this toward my mother, but she just stared pointedly at Principal Khol, who went on,

“There is. I’ve prepared all the paperwork but we need signatures,” He pulled a drawer open and thumbed through the files. “And we need to fax it off to them as quickly as possible, their deadline for the fall semester is rapidly approaching.” He produced a stack of papers and leafed through them, ignoring me completely.

“What is all that? What’s going on?”

No one answered. My mom was biting her lip. She and Principal Khol exchanged a look.

“Listen, Derrick.” She leaned forward. “I…we…Mr. Khol and I discussed what might happen if you were to be expelled and we set up a…”

“A contingency plan.” Principal Khol finished for her. “There is a very elite preparatory school in Kent, England and we may have found a way for you to spend your Senior year there.”

My ears were ringing. Kent? England?

“What?” That was all I could manage.

“They have a special program…” My mom was trying to explain but she couldn’t seem to finish. The look of betrayal on my face silenced her. Principal Khol stepped in.

“Yes, a special acceptance program designed to help you and other kids like you fulfill your potential. You meet all the requirements and I’ll be sending along a copy of your test scores, there’s no reason to think you won’t be accepted, although we will have to wait for an official response.”

“You’re shipping me away?” I didn’t blink, didn’t take my eyes off her. “I bet Cliff is gonna love this,” A laugh started in my throat but got caught halfway up.

“No, Derrick,” The desperation in her voice sliced through me. “This is a chance for you to…” She was starting to cry, I could feel tears burning behind my eyes too.

“Your mother is trying to do what’s best for you, this academy is a rare opportunity-” Principal Khol said sternly.

“You went behind my back, you just assumed I’d fuck up again…”

My face was hot. Of course I’d fucked up again, proved her right. A tear was catching the afternoon light on her cheek. I wanted to hate her - for being with Cliff, for moving me here, for this - but I just felt empty and stretched thin, a balloon ready to pop.

“We wanted to make sure there was a way you could graduate, even if it can’t be here,”

“Fuck graduating, I don’t care about that, I’m not leaving…”

“Just look at this,” Principal Khol sifted through his paperwork. He passed a shiny, folded brochure to me. I stared at it but didn’t pick it up. “You’d have excellent teachers and peers of your own caliber, the rooms are spacious and there’s plenty of extracurricular activities to keep you busy, they have every club you can imagine and…”

All the sound in the room faded into the ringing in my ears. His mouth was moving but I couldn’t hear. He was unfolding the brochure and pointing at pictures of shiny, smiling teenagers in their pressed uniforms. England? I’d never left Chicago. It seemed impossibly far, out of the reach of my imagination, another world, another dimension.

“-to a lot of trouble to arrange this for you.” Principal Khol was saying. “If you did well, there’s a chance you could be accepted into a good college.” He could see that I wasn’t listening. He sat up straighter and gave an exasperated sigh. “At the very least, consider it.” He slid the brochure further across the desk. He and my mother exchanged a long look and then their eyes settled on me, waiting for an answer.

My mouth wouldn’t open. All I could see was Cliff’s smiling face when he finally got rid of me. Was that the real reason she’d done this to me? To make Cliff happy? The thought made my stomach turn so violently I actually tasted bile at the back of my throat. She was staring at me, her eyebrows knitted together in concern, as if she cared.

“I need air…” I stood before either of them could respond.

“Derrick…” My mom called but the door was already swinging shut. Trudy glanced up at me with contempt as I fled the office.

I didn’t make it far before the next lunch bell rang and suddenly the halls were flooded. Those nearest to me eyed my fresh bruises and glared as I pushed through the throng toward the exit. I needed a cigarette, and then another and another and another.

Outside the sun was clearing the sky of clouds and baking the skin of so many adolescent shoulders. The bleachers had already filled and that’s where I saw Angela. She was laughing with two other girls I sort of recognized. She looked so happy - the sun soaking into her pale skin, her laugh carried to me by the wind.

I wanted to tell her what happened, what they wanted to do with me but somehow my feet wouldn’t move. They wouldn’t ruin her day with bruises and blood and ultimatums, like I wanted to. But it was too late, one of her friends caught sight of me and said something to Angela, who pushed her bleached hair from her shoulder and turned in my direction. I waved a hand sheepishly and she smiled, sending waves of warmth over me just to see something familiar and good. She nodded toward the space beneath the bleachers and we both started in that direction.

“What the hell happened to you?” She asked, coming around the corner. I just shook my head, not even sure I wanted to explain. “You look like shit.” She was wiggled two cigarettes from her pack and handed one to me.

“Thanks…” I lit it and sucked in, my lungs hungry for the smoke. She watched me, smoking her own cigarette, waiting for me to talk. She shuffled her feet in the dirt, I said; “I’m getting expelled.”

At first there was no reaction from her, except she narrowed her eyes and examined my bruised face. It must’ve dawned on her - the reason why - because her eyes widened and she stepped back, shaking her head.

“Shit.” And then she started to laugh. It was a laugh that couldn’t be stifled, though she tried. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She was saying, still laughing. I could only stare. I didn’t know what to think anymore, my mom was shipping me off to another fucking country and Angela, the only person I could say I was remotely close to, was laughing about it. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t think…” She inhaled on her cigarette, trying not to smile. “I didn’t think you’d really go after him.”

“What are you talking about?” I couldn’t hold it in anymore, my voice rose. “Of course I went after him! He took advantage of you, I’m not just gonna let that happen!” She was staring at me, her eyebrows raised, a look of comic disbelief on her face. “He raped you!”

“Derrick…” Angela shook her head, her blonde hair falling into her eyes. “No, he didn’t.” She said this like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You called me at three in the fucking morning last night-”

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“God, Derrick you really are an idiot…” She waited for me to understand, but still, I didn’t. “He didn’t rape me! For god’s sake, we had sex and I didn’t know how to tell you so I made that shit up but I didn’t think you’d go and get your ass kicked…”

There was a long moment of stillness for me. I’m not sure how it felt to Angela, but to me time stretched and twisted like putty. A hundred possible reactions and paths opened up to me - I could run away or lose my mind or wrap my hands around her neck.

Then her lips lifted in a grin and the facade dropped, a curtain falling. Whoosh. I saw her how she must’ve seen herself - pale, skinny, make-up smearing, her natural dark hair eating up the bleach she’d smothered it with. A liar, a fuck-up, a worthless piece of shit. I’d always believed there was something more than that, something that she hid beneath sarcasm and bitterness. But now I knew there wasn’t.

I dropped the cigarette under my shoe and crushed it. Angela was still staring with her lopsided grin.

“Derrick, come on.” She said, laughing.

I turned and started back across the field toward the school and that was the last time I saw her.

Distantly I could feel my ribs aching, my face throbbing, my ears ringing, my stomach twisting. I could feel the chasm opening inside my chest, waiting for me to be alone so it could tug me in over the edge and into darkness. But this was all far away - inside me there was a still place, numb to the pain.

Back in Principal Khol’s office they were chatting, having a polite conversation. My mom looked up when I entered, her face hopeful and sorry. I couldn’t look at her.

“I’ll go.” I said, to Principal Khol. He nodded and motioned for me to sit.

The next half hour was an excruciatingly slow blur of signatures and details.

“We’ll know if you’ve been accepted by mid-June.” I nodded, over and over, hardly hearing him. “You’ll need to have your choice of classes in by the end of July, and make sure you choose from the requirements or they could kick it back.” The adrenaline or stillness or whatever was wearing off. I wanted to throw up or throw myself off a roof. I kept seeing Angela grinning behind my eyes, Cliff grinning. They’d gotten rid of me, they’d done me in.

“Extracurriculars aren’t required but I highly recommend you sign up with your other classes, they fill quickly.” The pain was starting to make everything blur at the edges. “Here is a list of recommended items to bring for your dorm room.”

At last, after signing and reviewing and faxing, Principal Khol stood and organized the papers into a folder. He looked down at me really sadly, like I was his kid again. “I wish you the best, Derrick.” He said.

The folder found its way into my numb fingers. “Thanks.” I was too exhausted to really mean it.

My mom and I walked silently through the halls, the only sound was her work shoes squealing on the floors. Everyone was in class and this was the last time I was going to walk through these halls. I didn’t care - I hadn’t made made a single real friend in my two years at McKinley. There were people that knew my name, people that waved to me in the halls, girls that wanted to hook up, guys that wanted to fight me or be me, there were people I bummed cigarettes from and people I felt bad for. But I didn’t know anyone, and no one knew me.

In the parking lot, my mom’s car looked sad and rusty in the afternoon light. I wanted to walk home, be alone with my thoughts, maybe lie down on the train tracks but I was too tired to argue with her about it.

The inside of the car was burning up. There were cigarette butts stinking in the ash tray. We both sat and waited as she cranked the engine again and again, wondering if this was the last insult of the day, until at last it came to life. We rumbled out of the gated parking lot in silence and out onto the street.

“Derrick…” My mom started.

“Don’t.” I said. I pushed the button for the radio and a crooning voice filled the car. The corners of her lips trembled and I felt a pang of guilt, but I couldn’t open my mouth. All my words, everything was being sucked into the black hole in my gut. So began the longest summer of my life.

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8bit-arc-reactor-blog · 8 years ago

Text

MARGO: Diaries of a Star (*Pre-War* Bucky Barnes X OC)

Word Count- 2587

December 10th, 1932 Entry #1 Event: My 13th Birthday

Ma says that this journal is important. Today’s my thirteenth birthday so this was the present she gave me. She told me it was important for me ta write down my feelin’s and memories.

I live on the east-side of Brooklyn, New York with my two best friends Steven Grant Rogers (Stevie) and James Buchanan Barnes (Bucky). The three of us have been friends since the first grade and we’ve been inseparable since. I met Bucky when he saved me from a fifth-grader, Butch (Bull-dog) Wells, who tried ta steal my lunch on the way ta school. It wasn’t long after that, that I met Stevie who was a smaller kid that lived next door to me and was Bucky’s best friend.

It was snowing outside when I woke up this mornin’. Ma yelled from down the hall ta ‘make tracks ‘cause the boys were already eatin’ breakfast’. I ran to my closet and pulled out my favorite blue dress that I wore only on special occasions like today. Then I grabbed my nylons and my little black shoes that aunt Jenna got me for Christmas. I slipped on my nylon stockings and then pulled on my little shoes. After a moment of looking in my ma’s old mirror I grabbed my school bag and skid into the kitchen on my wobbly drumsticks.

As I got ta the kitchen I could smell the fresh eggs, bacon, and fresh squeezed orange juice. Ma was standing on one side of the counter smiling and pushing out my plate.

There at the counter was Stevie who was dressed in a coat that was probably his daddy’s by the way that it hung on his small frame, the poor boy was nearly consumed by the thing. On his drumsticks there were a pair of black trousers with a few patches where Ms. Sarah probably had to stitch ‘em up. On his feet were black boots that were about two sizes too big and he most likely was wearing newspapers in ‘em again. On his mess of blonde tangles sat a paper boy’s cap made of wool.

Next ta him was Bucky dressed in a grey, patchwork coat that Sarah probably had to fix to ‘cause nobody else would. Buck’s trousers were identical ta Steve’s, and his boots were caked in the white powder that was comin’ down outside. “Mornin’ Ma, Stevie, and Buck” I called to ‘em as I walked over and plopped down on the stool between Stevie and Bucky. I looked surprised at my breakfast knowin’ that Ma didn’t make much money for fresh goods. Breakfast was usually lumpy oatmeal or cold beans from a can.

“It’s alright dear. It’s your birthday so I had just enough to by some good food for breakfast and some for a dinner tonight with Sarah, the Barnes’ and the boys” Ma said already guessing my first reaction ta the bigger than usual meal. I picked up my fork and began ta eat, the taste of this kinda meal was somethin’ ta cause a scrub ta close their eyes for jus’ a second and thank somebody for givin’ them real food.

“Happy Birthday Doll” Bucky spoke first smilin’ warmly and giving my cheek a friendly peck.

“Thanks Bucky” I smiled back tryin’ ta conceal my blush.

“Y-yeah…H-happy Birthday Margo” Stevie added strutterin’ a little.

“Thank ya Stevie” I chuckled and hugged him gently.

After breakfast Ma gave me her old coat from the closet and two mix-matched mittens. I pulled ‘em on and then joined the boys by the door. “Have a good day at school Margo. You boys do the same and Steven no fightin’ with anybody today” Ma said kissing our foreheads.

“Alright *Auntie Christie* I’ll try” Stevie said he went into the hallway.

“Ah don’t worry Ma’am I’ll take care of ‘em both” Bucky said with a smile and ushered me out the door. Bucky grabbed my hand in his and Steve grabbed my other hand as we headed down the stairwell. You know, that formation was something I can’t for the life of me, get tired of.

The apple was covered in a blanket. Far as the blinkers coulda ever seen there was a dustin’ of white. Buck, Steve and I had ta walk ta school from the apartments which wasn’t really too far, somethin’ ta be thankful for in the cold weather. “So doll how’s it feel ta be thirteen?” Bucky asked as we trudged on freezin’ drumsticks down the thick pavement.

I shrugged lookin’ at him “Ain’t much different from yesterday Bucky” I laughed. He smiled down at me.

“Sure it ain’t, but it doesn’t take a yesteryear ta feel it Margo” Stevie said lettin’ out a soft chuckle.

Suddenly Bucky halted in his tracks and fell back onto a big bank of snow.

“Buck ya dingy, we’re gonna be late for class” I laughed watching him make like a dead hoofer in the white dust.

“Nah Doll we’ll be on time, I wanna make ya an angel,” Bucky said earning an eye roll and a laugh from Stevie.

“C’mon Buck shake a leg will ya its cold out here” Steve called as he pulled me along towards the place we knew as High School. I stopped and helped him stand on his hocks, his body covered in snow from head to toe.

“Ya better hope Miss Timms will let cha dry that coat of yours dingy” I called over my shoulder as I ran to catch up with Steve.

The three of us made tracks to our first class, Miss Timms’ English class. “Mornin’ Miss Whitty, Mr. Rogers, an’ Mr. Barnes” She said politely as we went into her room.

“Mornin’ Ma’am” Stevie spoke and he was echoed by Bucky and I as we took off our coats. Buck gently helped me with mine. Luckily, there was enough room over the stove for him to hang our wet rags so they would rid of the snow.

After that, we sat down in our normal seats. “Alright class get out your warm up books so we can begin the lesson,” Miss Timms said as the school chime sounded.

Lunchtime 12:32 PM

We sat inside the small, cramped lunchroom on the floor. “Aw C’mon I ate this yesterday” Baxter our lunchtime friend whined pulling out a ham sandwich.

“Ha! You’re the lucky one Baxter,” I laughed humorlessly as I pulled out my pack of crackers and chicken broth.

“Yeah at least you’re eatin’ a sandwich” Buck said from beside me, then proceeded to take a cracker from my bag, and nibbled on it.

“Sorry I jus’ don’ understan’ why life’s gotta be this way” Baxter huffed eating his sandwich. I just sighed and handed Stevie a spoon so he’d eat something.

“Not ta be mean to ya Baxter, but at least ya got dough bread an’ meat for yourself. I have ta share mine with Stevie and Buck ‘cause their mama’s ain’t makin’ enough ta feed ‘em lunch everyday,” I said giving Buck a spoon.

“Margo no, I’m fine” Bucky said placing the spoon in his lap and leaning his head against the brick behind us.

“Bucky ya gotta eat. Ma will be upset if ya don’t” I said looking at him worriedly.

“Nah, I’m supposed ta be lettin’ you an’ Stevie eat before I do” Bucky said stubbornly and then took another cracker.

Soon it was about time for us to get ready for our next class. I took the used napkins, waste to the bin, and then came back over to the boys so I could walk with them to class.

“Well, Well, Well if it ain’t the little dingy with ‘the star powers’. She’s with the little scrawny mutt and Buck tooth Barnes,” Felix, the class bully, said from behind me. His posse of friends started laughing and I began to grow angry. Bucky stood up next to me and I could see the fire hiding in his now icy blue eyes. His fist began to clench as if he was ready to fight.

“Buck, C’mon” Steve said softly reaching out to touch his friend’s arm.

“You better take that back ya bully” Bucky seethed and his nostrils flared up a little.

“Bucky it’s not worth it,” Steve said as I got beside Bucky and tried to hold onto his other arm.

“Yeah, whatcha gonna do ‘bout it Buck Tooth!” Felix taunted earning howling laughter from behind him as his pack of hyenas gave their own taunting gazes towards him.

Suddenly Bucky broke loose from mine and Steve’s grasp and attacked Felix, punching the bully in the face, “BUCKY!” I shouted watching in horror as my best friend and my worst enemy rolled around on the floor throwing a flurry of punches at each other.

“BUCK!” Steve shouted, but it was ignored. Bucky’s face was growing bloody from a busted lip, a shiner began to form under his left eye and he was being covered in many bruises.

“Steve we’ve got to do something or he’s gonna kill himself” I shouted over the chants of the crowd gathering around them. Steve and I ran through the crowd and towards the hallway.

There at the end of the hallway was our art Teacher Mrs. Winchester standing outside her door. “Mrs. Winchester! Mrs. Winchester you’ve got to help us!” Steve and I yelled in unison as we scampered down the hall towards her.

“Hello you two. Where’s James isn’t he normally with you? What’s wrong?” She asked looking concerned and having a feeling she already knew what was happening.

“Bucky…In…fight…trying…to…protect…Margo” Steve huffed suffering to catch his breath due to his asthma.

I looked at him in shock and gently patted him on the back. “Steve calm down, calm down. Here take your inhaler,” I whispered calmly grabbing his rescue inhaler out of my bag. Steve nodded gratefully and it took it, inhaling a little oxygen and feeling much better. “Bucky got into a fight with Felix Vanderbilt because he was trying to defend my honor,” I explained earning a quick nod from Mrs. Winchester.

We led her quickly back to the lunchroom where the fight had gotten worse. Bucky was now pinned to the ground and Felix was punching him senselessly. A tear rolled down my cheek and I wanted to use my powers to save Buck, but it was a risk I knew I couldn’t take right now. A risk Bucky wouldn’t have wanted me to take. “FELIX STOP THIS INSTANT!” Mrs. Winchester shouted and then the crowd was an echoing wave of gasps. Quickly the rest of the students ran off in their own directions leaving us alone with the bully in question.

“He started it” Felix pouted and Bucky groaned from the floor.

“That’s not what I heard” I snapped angrily and knelt down beside Bucky.

“Vanderbilt go to the office now! I don’t want to hear another word from you!” Mrs. Winchester snapped watching as Vanderbilt got off Bucky and trudged away. “You really got it this time Barnes. I’m not gonna report you to the principal because you’ve displayed that real chivalry is not dead and I understand that you were defending a girl. Please don’t make this a common occurrence,” Mrs. Winchester said as she helped us get Bucky to his feet. He was a bit wobbly and he leaned against me, but luckily, he was able to regain his bearings again in seconds. “Margret take Barnes to the Nurse and get him cleaned up. Steve you can come with me” Mrs. Winchester added. I nodded to her and then gently grabbed Bucky’s arm and carefully positioned it over my shoulder so he would have some sense of balance and then I helped him limp out of the lunchroom.

1:55 pm

“Look at you Barnes, you look horrible! Why’d ya do tha’ anyway? You’re Ma and my Ma are gonna kill us. We’ll probably get a lecture from Sarah on top of it all…” I snapped holding him up with all my strength.

“Cause he was insultin’ ya an’ no man should speak to or ‘bout a lady like tha’ if his mama taught ‘em any better tha’ wouldn’t happened” Bucky answered giving me an apologetic look that made my heart sink. I couldn’t stay mad at him forever that was for sure.

I huffed and rolled my eyes at him as we continued to walk towards the nurse’s office. “I don’t like it when ya go an’ get beat up for me Buck. I don’t like ta see ya hurt like this,” I said ruffling his messy brunette hair a little.

“Yeah I know doll, but I care ‘bout cha,” Bucky said with a weak smile. I smiled and kissed his cheek in a friendly manner as well as my own way of saying thank you. He had no idea that I felt so much more than friendship sometimes and that I worried about him constantly.

“Thanks Buck, but you’re too brave for your own good sometimes” I laughed and then reached up with my free hand and knocked on the wooden door to the Nurse’s office. The door opened to reveal a familiar and concerned face of Nurse Pembrooke. “Nurse Pembrooke we need a little help” I said nervously as she moved aside and allowed us to enter.

“What happened this time James?” She asked causing Bucky to cringe. He hated when people used his first name, but he understood why his superiors used it so he let it go. I gently walked him over to the bed and the Nurse grabbed a First Aid kit from the cabinet.

“Felix and I got into a fight Nurse Pembrooke,” Bucky answered flatly, as he closely watched the Nurse grab the things she needed to clean him up.

“I swear that boy ain’t got any manners an’ he’s jus’ askin’ for trouble. What’d he do to provoke ya this time Barnes?” She asked as she gently placed a wet cloth to his busted lip. Bucky hissed softly and closed his eyes before trying to answer.

“He was pickin’ on Margo an’ Stevie” Bucky answered feeling the wet cloth go over his eye with the shiner. I gently sat down next to him, gave my best friend a cautious side hug, and then looked up at him.

“Well then Miss Whitty I would consider yourself lucky to have a guy like him as your friend. You better be careful boy, your next fight could be your last one,” Nurse Pembrooke said giving us both a stern look. She cleaned Bucky’s other wounds and with my help, patched them up carefully. “Alright Barnes I give you the clearance to head back to class” She said handing me a scrap of paper and a look that said ‘don’t let him get into any more trouble for today.

Both of us nodded and I gave a friendly wave to her. “Thank you Nurse Pembrooke” I said and then helped Bucky get back to class. Needless to say, Nurse Pembrooke didn’t know exactly how grateful I was to have Bucky in my life or exactly how much of a crush I was building on him. I will never really know why I feel the way I do, but something about Bucky makes me feel safe. He makes me feel loved when others make me feel bad.

-Margret Anabella Whitty

#Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #OC #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x oc #prewar bucky #prewintersoldier bucky #teenage bucky #marvel oc au

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