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The first time he meets Bucky, he's in a back alleyway and there's blood dripping from his nose and a dark bruise beginning to bloom on his cheek. They're both all gangly limbs and gawky elbows, except Bucky has the confidence to back up his big, running mouth. Steve wishes he had that.
Bucky introduced himself ("James Buchanan Barnes," he had said with a bold tone to his voice like he owned his own name in a way that Steve never understood. He had jerked his thumb at himself and continued, "My friends call me Bucky."), and there was no way then that Steve would have known how that one introduction would change his life.
Sure, there was a poignancy to it that he recognized with cognitive thought. But there in that moment, two scrappy boys standing in an alleyway with signs of loss and triumph painted upon them like warpaint, covertly coming up with a plan to hide their evidence of fighting, they both know they've got a friend, someone to watch their back for as long as they can stay together.
And as Steve follows Bucky out of the shadows of that alley into the bright, warm sun, he thinks that's the best thought he's had in a long time.
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They're a little older now, boys yet balanced upon the precarious edge of leaving childhood and tipping over blindly into adulthood. At least, that's how Bucky's painting it and Steve isn't going to disagree.
It's summertime and the weather is sticky hot. They have a little extra pocket money, so Bucky suggests going to the soda fountain at the drug store a few blocks over. Steve goes but only because he knows if he stays, he won't have that extra change for long anyway.
There's two girls sitting at the counter when they get there and Bucky elbows him in the side. He silently pleads for Bucky to not do anything, but he knows it's a lost cause. In a matter of minutes they're charmed by Bucky and Steve feels like nothing but a shadow. Not to discredit Bucky's efforts, he does try (just like always), but they're not interested (just like always).
The four of them leave, headed for a nearby park and Steve tries to subtly comfort the girl Bucky clearly didn't choose. When he looks at her, he wonders if she's cataloging all her imperfections like Steve does in these situations. He wishes he could tell her not to, that she's pretty enough and doesn't need to worry about it—she'll get swept off her feet one day. But, the last time he tried something like that, he wound up shoving his foot in his mouth without meaning to. Girls don't like hearing they have too sharp of a nose or a crooked tooth. (In his own defense, he'd actually liked those things—they were unique and made her different. After that slap to the face and Bucky's braying laughter about it, Steve learned to keep his mouth shut.)
He tries to pretend not to notice when Bucky takes that girl's hand and drags her off to the shade of a tree. He also ignores the hot twist in his stomach when Bucky kisses that girl in the warm summer heat. (Later, much later when Steve is older, he'll remember this and realize he still remembers her name.)
After that, Steve swears he won't go to the soda fountains anymore with Bucky. (Except he still does.)
-----
By state law, they're adults now and can no longer stay in the orphanage. The years suddenly seem like they flew by, as opposed to when they were living them they dragged by slower than molasses. They had freedom now, they could do anything they wanted.
Steve figured they'd go their separate ways, and in the months leading up to their release, he came to terms with that. Except, late one night, Bucky had crawled into Steve's bed and bluntly said they should get a small apartment together once they got out. They were buddies, after all, and they should stick together. Steve remembers the last time he'd been that happy and it's not surprising that Bucky was at the center of it all. (What he didn't know then, and wouldn't until later—so much later that his heart has been broken three times and put back together—was how happy Bucky had been, too.)
They packed their meager belongings that day, small gifts from the nuns that had a soft spot for them tucked away in their bags and a brightness in their hearts that hadn't ever been there before, and set off for their run-down, dinky little apartment. It wasn't much, but it was theirs.
As they walked and Bucky talked about everything and nothing ("At least now we won't get slapped on the knuckles for staying up late!"), Steve couldn't keep the grin off his lips as he thought to himself there's nowhere else he'd rather be.
-----
War comes and with it Bucky enlists and is suddenly gone from Steve's side. He's angry he can't go with him—not because they need to be together, but because he can't do a damn thing. He's been weak his entire life, but he's never really, truly felt it until this moment. And that digs at him, that makes his imperfections so damned obvious and striking.
A last ditch effort to join one night is opportunity knocking. Steve is rebuilt into something he could only dream about at night and feel embarrassed about the next morning. And, still, even in the peak of physical perfection, he still can't do a damn thing. That digs at him even more.
He's in Europe when he hears about the 107th battalion. His heart flutters in a way that steals his breath and is something he hasn't felt in a while. Standing there hearing that, for just a brief moment, he's not Captain America, he's Steve Rogers, skinny kid from Brooklyn who was just flippantly told there's no hope his best friend is alive.
Well, he's not going to buy that. And it's a damn good thing. Chance has him finding Bucky, following along the strings that have bound them together for longer than he can remember. Steve never knew true relief more than when he found Bucky alive.
When they make it back to camp, he tells himself he'll never let anything like that happen to Bucky again. It's time he took over and made the attempt to pay his friend back for all the times Bucky took care of him.
-----
It seems like barely any time has passed before Steve's promise is broken.
They're on a mission to get Zola, to find Red Skull and it's been going well. They're good men, everyone works together like a finely oiled machine. As each day progresses, Steve thinks they might all make it out of this alright. Hope blooms warm within his heart that cold day and he has no intention of letting it go just yet.
Of course, things change in an instant and Steve will eventually forget his high spirits that day. He watches Bucky fall, he watches as he loses his best friend, fully knowing there's not a damn thing he can do about it.
Though Steve's body doesn't follow Bucky this time—seems like it's the first time in well over ten years—his heart does and he doesn't think anything of the hole within his chest.
------
The year is much later than either one of them expected to be alive. After a while, they all seem to run together into unimportant swirls of numbers. So much has changed that even the things they might recognize are foreign to them now.
When Steve wakes up, he thinks he's lost everything.
When Bucky wakes up, he doesn't know who he even is each time.
They meet again and it's not a tender reunion, it was never intended to be that way. When Steve figures out who the Winter Soldier is, it's like a punch to the gut and the world shifts from under his feet. He knows what he should do, but he knows that there's no possible way he can. Those eyes that look at him with the stringent cold of Soviet snow hold no recognition, but Steve knows Bucky's still in there.
He has to be.
It takes even longer for Bucky to come around, even after he's deprogrammed. Bucky stays far away from Steve, far away from New York, far away from everything he's ever known. Mostly because he believes he doesn't deserve the comforts they would provide. But, there's a small part that just can't look Steve in the eyes after all he's done.
Eventually all the running isn't solving anything either and Bucky can feel the need for something more.
So, this time it's Bucky who finds Steve, giving full disclosure that he doesn't remember everything and that it's better to not trust him at all and if anything happens this time that Steve has to swear to put him down. (Steve promises, but they both know he doesn't mean it.) This feels like a fresh start that he needed, even if he's not fully optimistic that it'll work at all.
It's later that night when they're sprawled on the couch, thighs touching and Bucky can smell the sharp scent of Steve's soap, when he remembers something. Pieces of memories flit across his mind like smoke, and he can't grab a full hold on them, but it's enough. It's enough to make him remember all the times he followed Steve's example, tried to be a better man, a better friend, a better everything. One thing sticks well enough in his mind that he remembers thinking all those years ago before they set out to take down Hydra (maybe he even said it back then, he can't recall), is that he'd follow Steve to the gates of Hell and back and he never realized just how true that would be. He's well enough now to find the humor in the irony.
And that fact that it's still one hundred percent fact.
-----
What they both don't realize, and maybe some day they will (they've got time now), is that they've been locked in an endless circle, destined to keep following without anyone leading.