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Inhale. Exhale.
Down town was packed full of people. Families and friends, so many different cultures and identities that had come together to raise money, complete goals, have fun. It was absolutely incredible.
Inhale. Exhale.
The air was packed with a hundred different smells; food, deodorant, sports drinks, people. It was damn near impossible to move in some areas. The streets were lined all through the neighbourhood. People eagerly awaiting the start of the race.
Inhale. Exhale.
Steve Rogers was one of these people. His eyes were closed, his breath was steady, his mind was clear of all but one thought. Keep breathing. He sipped his water patiently, thinking about all the other people doing exactly the same as him. Steve opened his eyes and looked down at his watch. The race was due to start in ten minutes. Everyone was starting to line up now, to get ready to go. If only Steve was one of them.
Inhale. Ex-
“SAM WILSON IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE NOW WE ARE NOT GOING TO BE THERE ON TIME! I HAVE PEOPLE COUNTING ON ME, ASSHOLE.”
“All right! I'm here!” Sam jogged down the stairs, a sheepish grin on his face.
“We're already late. Don't you dare grin at me.” Steve snapped, opening the front door and heading down the steps.
The drive across the city was long and Steve almost crashed on three separate occasions due to him trying to run red lights. Sam was freaking out. Every time he tried to tell Steve to slow down, Steve would snap that they were late because of Sam. If Sam died because of that, it wasn't on Steve.
Eventually they reached the start line where runners there was only a small amount of runners left to start running. Steve jumped out of the car, Sam yelling that he'd see him at the finish line, and raced to the check in tent.
“You're late.” The woman said in a bored tone.
“I know. My flatmate-”
“Fill this out.” She sighed, handing him a clipboard.
Steve filled it out in a hurry, sure that he had made mistakes. But within a few minutes she was handing him his number and sending him on his way. Steve joined the last few stragglers and started to pace himself, relishing in the fact that he'd eventually made it. Further away from the front than he'd wanted to be but that wasn't the point. He was doing this for his mom and nothing could change that.
As time passed, the people around Steve thinned out. He kept his eyes ahead, focusing on his breathing and his pacing. When he passed the halfway mark he noticed something. There were less and less people lining the streets to watch. Steve checked his watch and realized that most of the runners will have finished by now. He looked over his shoulder to see only one guy running closely behind him. His hair was tied back in a bun, strands of hair plastered to his sweaty face. Steve faced forward again and pushed the attractive runner out of his head.
A few minutes passed and suddenly Steve could see the finish line up ahead. His lungs were killing him and his legs were burning but he pushed on. It was at that moment, that he heard the guy behind him start to speed up. He joined Steve's side and smiled at him.
“We're the last two runners.” He panted.
“What?”
“Good job, buddy.” He grinned before speeding up even more, overtaking Steve completely.
Steve looked over his shoulder, letting out a grunt over the fact that the runner was right. No way was he gonna beat Steve though. The asshole couldn't just overtake him like that. Steve sped up, enjoying the sight of the guys ass before passing him.
“On your left.” He called, the finish line only fifty metres away. He looked over his shoulder to grin at the guy and in that second, he'd never regretted anything in his life more. He felt his ankle roll, felt himself fly forwards, and he felt himself crash into the ground, skidding slightly on the gravel.
It took him a second to get his bearings, shock making his mind go blank. He'd trained for months for this marathon. Not once had he ever fallen over. He moved himself into a sitting position, wincing at the scrapes and cuts. But the most painful was the ankle he'd rolled.
“Hey, you okay?”
Steve looked up into the concerned eyes of the runner. “Not really. Get out of here. Finish the race. One of us has to.”
“What? Are you kidding? No. Not without you. You've got to finish it as well. You can't make it this far.” He smiled, holding out his hand for Steve to take. “Let's at least get you to your feet.”
“Thank you.” Steve said gratefully, taking his clammy hand and letting him haul Steve upwards. The second he put weight on his injured ankle he gasped out in pain, falling into the guy without really meaning to.
“Shit. Come on, arm around my shoulders.” The guy said happily, moving Steve's arm for him, sliding his own around Steve's waist.
They started hobbling the last few metres to the finish line, the last few onlookers cheering for them. Steve was in so much pain but this guy was making it all seem okay. “I'm Steve, by the way.”
“Bucky.” He grunted, holding tightly onto Steve's hand. “You're doing great. Do you think you can make the last step on your own? So you're not last?”
“Nope. We can both be last.” Steve panted as they stopped right at the line.
At this point, more than a few people had formed a crowd to cheer them on. It was weirdly empowering despite them being the last two people to cross the line. They both stepped over and Steve half collapsed to the cheers, Bucky only just managing to hold him up. Sam was suddenly on Steve's other side, helping to carry him to the first aid tent. Everything became a blur but one thing was certain, Bucky seemed to stay by his side for the next hour. And the hour after that when Sam took them to Steve's favourite diner. He hadn't been in since he'd started training, being tough but good to his body.
The one thing he'd been adamant on had been that at the end, he was going into the diner for a burger, fries and a shake. As he sat there, slumped in the corner of the booth, the painkillers wearing off, Sam decided to go to the bathroom.
Steve finished up his burger and sighed, “Thank you for helping me. You could have just kept running and not come last but you didn't and I really appreciate it. Let me pay for your dinner. It's the least I can do.” Steve said, reaching for his wallet.
“No, that's okay. I'll get this one. Maybe once your foot is all better you could pick me up and buy me dinner at some place fancy?” Bucky suggest, staring intently at his fries.
Steve grinned. “Yeah. I think that could work.”