Chapter Text
“Barnes, there’s a fight.”
The young man sighed, he never got time by himself. One day, he’d actually finish the book he was reading. Perhaps. He moved a lonely, dark brown strand of hair that was sitting annoyingly on his forehead with his right hand and looked up as he closed his book skillfully with his left. The teenager gave the messenger - a friend - more than an acquaintance, in his year, a look and with that, said messenger straightened up and pointed towards the direction of the playground. James placed the book in his back trouser pocket and walked as if on a mission and no one messed with him when he was like this. In fact, most people moved out of the way with a blink of an eye. He was known as one to not mess with on a good day, because back when he was involved with a group of bullies at school. He was their main fighter. His reputation continues to live on as a fighter, but this time for a good cause.
That cause being his best friend.
Once he got to the area with the noise and cheers, which happened to be by the school bins, he nodded to the messenger who took a step back away from the crowd. James didn’t need to say anything to make his presence known. He merely walked into the crowd, who in turn, made a path for where the two teenagers were fighting. One was clearly winning, but the other just wouldn’t give up. He sighed internally, this was always the way he’d find him. It hurt. Every time.
“I can do this all day,” the one who was clearly losing said, with a battered face and a bleeding nose standing in a fighting stance. Blonde hair that was neat at the start of the day, the fight, now a mess and sweat dripping from his hairline and forehead.
“You asked for it.”
As the winning teen was about to make an attack on the other boy, James Barnes stood in front of the smaller boy protecting him. He put his arm out and held the fast moving clenched fist from the other boy and used his strength to stop the attack. He made it look effortless.
"Oh, look. Here's your saviour," the boy taunted and James narrowed his eyes.
"I wouldn't talk any more, if I were you," he said, taking a breath. He didn't look back at his friend, who he knew was put out that he intervened yet again. He just couldn't let a friend get beat up for being different.
"Ooh, I'm so scared!"
James looked to the boy who told him about the fight and smirked slightly. "Jackson, get a teacher will you.” He watched as the messenger left and turned his attention back to the boy who picked a fight with his friend. “They won't be pleased you picked yet another fight. I wonder if they'll suspend you this time, Colin?" He asked innocently, almost too innocently.
Colin, who came out of the fight without so much as a bruise scoffed and moved his clenched fist. He reluctantly walked away from them with his friends and from the crowd, shaking his head in annoyance and muttering to them. James nodded in satisfaction as the crowd disappeared, finally turning to face his friend.
"Come on, I'll take you to the nurses office," James said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and helping him walk.
"I could have won that, Bucky," came a tired, out of breath reply. "I didn't need your help."
The difference between the two friends was comical, one being tall, broad and strong standing over 6ft. The other, tiny, too skinny to be considered healthy and smaller than the average teenage boy. James chuckled and lightly patted his friends back gently.
"Of course you didn't. You said that when we met three years ago," he replied, "Steve. Please, I'd like it if you survived school," There was a worried tone in his voice as they walked through the school to the nurse's office.
It was Steve's turn to laugh, as James gave him a tissue to wipe the blooded nose. He watched his friend take it with an eye roll and a pout and James couldn't help but smile despite everything.
“Sure, if I didn’t survive who would you have to discuss the next scientific invention?” The reply came back good-naturally and James ruffled Steve’s hair into even more of a mess, “Alright, alright, I’m sorry!” Steve said after a moment and James stopped, beaming a smile. Steve matched the smile, while holding the tissue to his nose.
“You should be.”
As they reached the nurse’s office, they were still smiling. James knocked on the door loudly. He watched as the nurse, one Ms Davis, looked up and with a glance, recognised the duo instantly.
“Come in,” she called and as they entered “Mr Rogers, what happened this time?” she asked him to sit down on the medical chair, while she rummaged through her draws. James folded his arms across his chest and leaned on the doorway, wanting to hear about that himself.
“The guy was being rude about Bucky, I wasn’t going to stand there and listen to it.” Steve said, wincing when she sorted out his nose. He didn't wince at the pain, no. He winced at his best friend's look. James’ eyes narrowed. This was different. Usually, Steve would say they bullied him because he was small, skinny. The way he looks. /Why had it changed?/
“Steve, what did they say?” he asked.
"You're only friends with me because you pity me. That I… nothing. It was the usual."
James could tell Steve was holding back, not telling the whole truth. But for his friend’s sake he wouldn't question him further, not in front of Ms Davis, anyway. "You know that's not true, right?" James tried to make eye contact with the blue eyed boy, who was now looking downwards focused on the floor. "Please, Steve. Tell me, you know it's not true? We've been best friends for years."
"All because you took pity on me, helped a loner." Steve whispered and James furrowed his eyebrows together, hurt shown across his eyes and the smile gone.
"You think that low of me?" He asked, voice just above a whisper. He stood straighter, eyes filled with anger, covering up his hurt and looked at the nurse. "Make sure he's not in pain. He has asthma, he didn't have his inhaler with him." James said before leaving, closing the door with a slam, ignoring Steve's call.
As he walked away, his thoughts went to overdrive, his eyes stinging wet as he replayed the conversation that had just happened. He and Steve hardly ever argued, disagreed, so when it did happen, it often hit James harder than he’d like. Unfortunately, he didn't get far. A familiar voice sounding all too happy to see him like that brought him back to the present.
"I know that look, aw. Argument with your boyfriend?" He spun round to face the same teen who beat Steve up.
"I warned you once already, Colin." James said through gritted teeth, clenching his fists, nails digging in his palms.
"Yes, but I like to ignore warnings. Especially from people like you," Colin spoke with a sadistic grin.
"People like me?" James questioned voice dangerously low. The laughter from Colin hit a nerve. More than one. He didn't move as Colin took three large steps, till he was inches away from him and whispered in his ear.
"You're a faggot, right? Only dating girls because you can't get what you want."
At this, James laughed and patted Colin on the shoulder like greeting an old friend.
"Sure, whatever you say Colin. Make up shit about me, I wonder what my Father and yours would think of these accusations?" He threatened and Colin's eyes widened slightly, James smirked. "Don't bring Steve into this. See you around." It was taking a lot of might to not pick a fight with him, but they were in the middle of the corridor with teachers that could walk out at any moment.
As James tried walking away, Colin grabbed his arm tightly, swinging him back. "I've been whispering comments like that to Steve for years. Has he still not told you? I wonder if you're really best friends at all?"
"Mr Grey, I'd like to see you in my office," A voice called out, breaking the tension between the two boys, Colin gave him a raised eyebrow and a smirk before turning round to greet the Principal. James decided not to watch him go. Lunch was nearly over so he headed to Art class early.
What a day. It wasn't even over yet.
"Mr Barnes, you're early. What's wrong?" The teacher knew him too well and James didn't want to give him an answer so he stared off into space, in a daydream thinking about this morning's events. "Alright, don't tell me, where's Mr Rogers?" It was strange to see the duo not together.
"Nurses office." James muttered walking into the classroom and sitting down by his usual seat which was next to the window. He liked looking out into the world, the playground, their village. Often wondering what was going to happen after they finished school, what would happen. What he'd actually do as a career. With life.
The task today was sketching a portrait, something he wasn't very good at, not as good as Steve. He liked art, though. It distracted him, calmed him. Steve walked in ten minutes later, luckily, they didn't have Colin in this class, and only a few people actually took art. James felt like he wasn't ready to speak to Steve again so soon, usually he needed a little more time. But, well. He couldn't let something like this break their friendship.
He watched as Steve sat in his usual spot next to James who bit back a smile, looking back at his attempt at sketching his best friend. He only got the outline and the eyes so far. He was going to show Steve what he chose to draw once it was finished.
"Bucky, I'm sorry -" James heard Steve whisper softly. He couldn't stay mad. Not at Steve. At Colin, however. He could stay mad for as long as he wanted.
Whatever Steve was going to continue to say, (and just as James was about to interrupt) they would never know. At that moment, history changed forever. The radio that was in the classroom turned on and an emergency beeping went on for about a minute before they heard the voice of the president.
/"War has come to the United States of America…"/
•••
“Test subject, 32557038, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Do you remember who you are?” A man with a german accent asked, while Bucky was trying his hardest to break free from the chains. He couldn’t have failed this mission. It was his job to bring back these men alive. Yet, he had been captured himself. And couldn’t escape. He didn’t deserve to be a Sergeant. He didn’t deserve to go home. He didn’t deserve Steve.
“Yes, it’ll take more than that to break me,” Bucky replied back, out of breath, with a fighting look in his eyes. The man sighed, shaking his head and crossed something off his list.
“Oh don’t worry, Sergeant. We have plenty of time. No one is coming to rescue you,”
Bucky let out a chuckle and smirked, “You don’t know that,” He didn’t know where Steve was, or what he was doing. Whether he got to the army or not. But he had a gut feeling that Steve was going to be the one to rescue him. He wasn’t going to give up on that hope.
Because if he did… he would be lost forever.