Chapter Text
Steve lay across the saggy couch in the centre of the apartment and stared absently at his hands across his stomach. He turned on the radio, but had forgotten about it until the song crackling through the speaker abruptly stopped.
“Hey, I was listening to that,” He said, rolling over to see the disruptor of his peace.
“No you weren’t,” Bucky said, standing with his hand still on the radio and a newspaper rolled up in his other.
“Could’a been,” Steve grumbled as he turned back over.
“But ‘cha weren’t,” Buck said before lightly smacking him with the newspaper roll, “Move over.”
Steve begrudgingly sat up and made room, “Where’d you get that from?”
“Didn’t you see outside? It rained pretty hard this afternoon,” Bucky sat down and carded a hand through his wet hair.
Steve hadn’t noticed, but looking at Bucky he could see that he looked like he had been caught in the rain, or just hosed down. Water dripped from his hair onto his shirt collar. His button-up clung in wet patches to the white undershirt underneath.
“Buck,” Steve complained as he pushed him unsuccessfully of the sofa, “You’re getting’ water everywhere.”
Bucky only laughed.
“I will, I will,” Bucky said slouching back into the couch, “Gimme a minute, it’s been a long day.”
“I’ll say, you were up early enough,” Steve said having given up on pushing his friend off the couch.
“’m sorry, Stevie,” Bucky said, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
Steve only shrugged.
Bucky leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
“Any luck on the job hunt?” He asked,
Steve shook his head, “There’s nothin’ out there.”
“Not even someone in the building looking for an extra pair of hands?”
“Nah,” Steve said, “The only person is Mr. Feld and he can’t afford it.”
“Feld?” Bucky’s brows furrowed,
“Two stories up,” he explained, “He walks by the window around eleven every day.”
“I see you’re keepin’ busy in your unemployment,” Bucky joked,
“’Course, what else would I be doing?” Steve gave Bucky a gentle nudge once more, “Get up, you’re gettin’ the couch wet.”
“Dinner maybe,” Bucky said before hoisting himself off the couch, “Yeah, yeah. I’m gettin’ up.”
“And keep me like a housewife?” the bitterness in Steve's voice a little harsher than he intended, “You wish.”
“We could’a gotten married,” Bucky unbuttoned his shirt as he walked to the bedroom, “Your ma would’a been proud. Would’a got mine off my back.”
“You know we couldn’t,” Stevie said less playful than before.
“C’mon, I’m not that bad,” Bucky joked from the bedroom,
“I am,” He said as he scanned their mostly bare cupboards.
Being poor sucked, but they were luckier than most. At least Bucky had something steady and Steve managed to pick up the odd job here and there. They both managed to finish school, for better or worse. And somehow they managed to pay rent every month, cutting it far too close on months Steve had particularly bad luck on the job hunt.
“’M not arguing with that,” Bucky laughed,
“Hey,” Steve turned around to make a face,
Bucky stood in the living room with his new shirt open and a cocky grin on his face the way he knew Steve liked. God, He couldn’t resist him and Bucky knew it.
“That’s a nice shirt you got there, pal,” Steve remarked, “You goin’ somewhere fancy?”
“Oh yeah,” Bucky smirked, “Got this little blonde thing at home, goes a little stir crazy if ‘e doesn’t get out every now and then.”
“Buck, we can’t,” Steve said, “’sides, we got food here.”
“C’mon, Stevie,” Bucky’s hand finding Steve’s wrist in a gentle grasp, “Just one night. Lemme take you out on the town.”
Steve let his arm rest in Bucky’s fingers for a moment. Bucky’s blue eyes staring into Steve’s all soft like chocolate on a hot day.
Steve let out a sigh, “Fine.”
Bucky let out a smile that could light up the neighbourhood if he tried, “You’ll have a great time, I promise.”
“Any place you had in mind?” Steve asked, “Where’d my jacket go?”
“That place down on Flatbush, maybe,” Bucky shrugged and started looking for Steve’s jacket,
“Flatbush? No,” He said making a face, “That place takes a dime just to get in. What about that place by the docks?”
“Stevie, you’re killing me. I was down at the docks all day.” Bucky said as he grabbed Steve’s coat from one of the chairs at the table.“What about the one on 50th?”
“’S far enough away for you?” Steve said,
“Nothing’ll be far enough away from the docks,” Bucky responded, “Take your jacket.”
Steve grabbed his jacket and swung it around, “50th it is.”
“50th it is,” He repeated.
Bucky buttoned up his shirt and grabbed his jacket before the two of them headed out, stopping to say hello to Mr. Gonzales as he came home from work. Mr. and Mrs. Gonzales were a sweet older couple across the hall. He worked at a hardware store south of Fulton. Somewhere Steve had never been able to find. They mostly kept to themselves, but over the last few months Mrs. Gonzales had started warming up to Bucky –leaving dinner at their doorstep on more than one occasion.
The trip down to 50th had been worth it once they finally reached the hole-in-the-wall dance hall. The entry was free and the drinks were cheap, albeit watered down. The food was boiled and mostly tasteless, but for the price they were charging Steve wasn’t about to argue. Instead Steve swallowed down his potatoes and tried to enjoy the obviously drunken band playing on stage.
“Gotta say,” Bucky said over the music, “This is the best idea I’ve had in a while.”
“Yeah,” Steve agreed, “A long while.”
Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t before another interrupted.
“Excuse me,” A voice said, “Care to dance?”
The two of them looked over to see a young woman looking at Bucky. Joan Blondell could’ve eaten her heart out and it would have made no difference. The woman had hair not dark enough to be blonde, but too light to be brown. Her eyes were large and blue, just the way Bucky liked, too. Steve couldn’t stand a chance.
Bucky looked at Steve, then back at the girl before answering.
“’Course, doll,” He said before getting up.
Steve sat and watched Bucky dance, the polite grin on his face slowly giving way to something more genuine. Bucky loved women, but that wasn’t something Steve could give Buck, not really. He had tried that route for years and it only made him feel worse than he already felt. His mom didn’t understand it, and thinking back Steve didn’t think she could ever truly understand it, but she loved him regardless right up until the end. That wasn’t to say that it never put a strain on their relationship, he lost count of the number of times his panic led to asthma attacks as he tried his best to sneak in the house and change out of Bucky’s old hand-me-downs into something more feminine, more proper for a ‘girl’ his age. But Bucky, Bucky didn’t understand it, didn’t try to, he just took Steve as he was. He called him pal and a handsome fella. But, Bucky liked women and that was something Steve wasn’t.
“He yours out there?” Someone asked.
Steve turned around to see a dame staring back at him, a dame dressed in pink with meticulous dark brown curls pinned up at the sides waiting for him to answer.
“Uh, Yeah. I guess,” Steve stumbled over his words,
“Is this seat taken?” The woman asked, “Or may I borrow it for the time being?”
“Um, Yeah,” Steve said, “I mean, it’s free if you want it, uh, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?” The woman made a face and laughed, “You make me sound old.”
Steve opened his mouth to say something, an apology he hoped.
“Don’t worry yourself,” She said, “My partner is sitting over there, but I couldn’t leave a young man such as yourself looking so sad and alone.”
Steve looked over to where she pointed at the distinguished looking man in a black suit and hair slicked back like the catalogs Steve could barely afford to look at. He tried to hide the slump in his shoulders. A dame finally notices him and she's taken, he really had the worst luck.
“Ida,” the woman reached her hand across the table for Steve to take, “Ida Powell.”
“Steve Rogers,” he said and reached out.
“It’s always hard, isn’t it?” Ida took her hand back and placed under her chin with her elbow on the table, “He’ll never understand, not quite, anyways.”
“Ma’am?” Steve said, his fingers twisting themselves up underneath the table.
“It took me a long while to realize,” She said glancing at Steve, “Longer than you, probably. I’m lucky to have found my John. Not everyone is so lucky, you know, let alone people like us.”
Steve felt as though he had taken a blow to the chest, any air in his lungs had escaped. She was like him. Maybe there were words for it, if there was he didn’t know them. He only knew the feeling of frustration when he wasn’t seen as one of the boys playing rough in the street, scraping elbows across the pavement. He couldn’t describe the feeling of wearing boy’s trousers for the first time, the way it almost brought him to tears, or being called ‘sir.’ What made it worse was the isolation. Sure, he was one of the boys, but he was different and alone. To find someone who understood was never something he imagined, who understood how he felt about his body. Not to say they were born in the wrong body, but that they were trapped in a physical circumstance.
“You know?” He asked barely a whisper for fear it would all come out at once,
“Of course,” She said nonchalantly, “I’d recognize that look anywhere. I saw it first in the mirror. Now, I suggest you take that man who very obviously loves you and you hold on tight and never let go. You deserve happiness.”
“But-” Steve started,
“No,” She said, holding a finger up, “You deserve happiness.”
Before Steve could try to argue again the band finished their song and applause rang across the bar. Bucky and the dame he danced with returned, Steve catching only the last part of their shared gratitude at having such a wonderful dance partner.
“Steve!” Bucky exclaimed from across the dance floor,
Steve gave a shy smile back.
“Well,” Ida sighed, “I best be returning to my John before he gets lost without me. And I suggest you find your way back to your…”
“Bucky,” Steve said.
“Your Bucky,” Ida finished, “Have a good evening, Mister Rogers.”
“You too, Ma’am,” Steve said, "Miss."
Ida Powell smiled before returning to her table. Even from where he sat Steve could tell Ida’s John lit up when she sat down at their table.
“You finally find a dame who can see you and I don’t even get to meet her,” Bucky complained,
“She came with someone,” Steve said,
“A taken woman,” Bucky gasped dramatically, “Steve, you homewrecker.”
“Never would’a taken me for the type, would you?” Steve joked,
“Never in a million years,” Bucky said as scooped his cooled potatoes onto his fork, “What’s ‘er name?”
“Ida, Ida Powell,” Steve answered, “What about you, no second dance?”
“Elsie? Nah,” Bucky shrugged, “She was lookin’ for a partner for the one dance is all. Got no problem with that, ‘M here with my best guy.”
Steve opened his mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come.
Steve smirked instead, “Your best guy’s gonna get another drink. I’ll get you one.”
Bucky stopped chewing to smile, his lopsided grin stretching to his ears, “Yeah, alright. Thanks, pal.”
“Now I’m your pal? I was your best guy a second ago,” Steve slid off his chair, and started for the bar.