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Steve Rogers was hard to say no to.
It was those damned puppy dog eyes and that little downward turn of his lips that he had that Bucky knew promised trouble but he couldn’t deny.
Steve’s ma didn’t like it, said that if Bucky promised to protect him from trouble then he would have to actually mean it, otherwise he might as well get into the trouble anyways and not promise at all.
But it was easier in theory. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll make sure to keep him out of trouble,” was a lot easier to say when Stevie wasn’t looking at his with the excitement of a new plan forming in his head. And then if Bucky said no, which he did say sometimes because one of them had to be the voice of reason and it damn well wouldn’t be Steven Grant Rogers, then Steve would turn his eyebrows down and jut out his lip and his eyes were sparkling with hope until Bucky just had to go along with it.
So maybe they got arrested a few times. Nothin’ real crazy ‘bout it. It’s not like the hoosegow got them for any reason they really shoulda. Fights, mostly, and Bucky only got dragged along into those because if he didn’t Steve would get beat to a pulp. And it was kinda fun, kicking those other guys asses. He couldn’t lie.
Even if Bucky was supposta be the sophisticated one between the two of ‘em. He was the one that never got in too much trouble, and it really could always be pinned to Steve when he did.
Stevie, who got Bucky sneaking into places he shouldn’ta been, and Stevie would got Bucky fighting people he shouldn’ta been fighting, and Stevie who had Bucky feeling ways he shouldn’ta been feeling.
It was hard not to fall for Steve, though. All ninety pounds of him, with that fiery attitude that left no room for disrespect.
And if someone did disrespect him? Bucky would just show him why they shouldn’t.
Which is how he and Stevie ended up in the hoosegow, again, and really Bucky thought that he was starting to charm the copper by now. They were family at this point, really. It was lucky, too: Bucky didn’t have all that much money left for bail, and the money he did have he was saving for something real nice for Stevie.
He wasn’t sure what, yet, but he knew that Steve would like more coloring pencils. Maybe a sketchbook. Paints were damned expensive too but maybe if they stopped getting into trouble Bucky would be able to scrounge it all together.
Because Bucky’s ma was a busy woman and didn’t care too much what trouble he had gotten into, but Winnifred Barnes had taught him never to steal and Bucky would take that to heart. Oh yes he would.
“You need to stop getting yourself arrested, Son,” the copper told him with a sigh, but let ‘em go just like he did every time Steve and he ended up there with two black eyes and a split lip each. “You need to put that energy elsewhere. Maybe try boxing.”
So he did. There was a little boxing ring around the neighborhood, and Bucky thought it mighta been worth a shot. Learn how to fight better if nothing else. Then he could protect Stevie even more.
Stevie of course just had to shine those damned puppy dog eyes Bucky’s way and soon enough Bucky was taking him with him.
The other fellas got a kick outta Steve, actually. Bucky always knew that Steve was great, but it sure was appreciated seeing other fellas acknowledge his greatness, too. Stevie wouldn’t fight. No, as much as he turned those puppy dog eyes on him Bucky didn’t want his ninety-pounds-soaking body getting into the ring with a guy three times his size. So Steve just sat and watched and cheered Bucky on as he learned to fight guys twice his size and get good at it.
Then the other fellas thought it would be fun to throw Steve into the ring, and Bucky refused to fight him, but Steve had the time of his damned life in there, and every time since then when Steve turned those damned eyes on Bucky he told him why don’tcha hop right in the fight? And that was what he did.
They still got arrested after that, they just now knew howta fight and had a group of experienced boxers to back them up if needed. Bucky was happy because so many more people were there to protect Steve from himself— because Bucky knew damned well no one other than Steve was starting a fight just ‘cause— and Steve was happy because he could throw himself into a fight and Bucky couldn’t say nothin’ about it because Steve knew what he was doing.
Didn’t stop him from getting his ass beat half the time, but that was just the way it was. And Bucky liked it. Loved it even. Maybe a bit too much.
Just like how he loved Steve too much. Not even learning to box properly could save him from that.
But he and Steve did everything together, that’s just how it was, and how it would always be.
“I’m not gonna fight you,” Bucky laughed for about the millionth time. Stevie could fight the other guys all he wanted, but Bucky wasn’t going to throw a single punch at Steve, no matter how many times Steve asked. “You’re my friend.”
“I heard that, Barnes!” One of the fellas called. “Hear that? Only Rogers gets to be friends with Barnes.”
“Yeah exactly!” Bucky called back, because those guys were just as much of punks as Steve was. “Look, Steve, I’m not gonna fight you.”
“Aww, c’mon, Buck. Not even once?” And there came those damned puppy dog eyes again, and Bucky wasn’t even sure if Steve was conscious of the fact that he was doing it or not, but Bucky looked into those stunningly blue eyes until he hadta look away.
“You can’t do that to me, Punk,” he laughed.
“You’re just afraid I’ll beat your ass, you jerk,” Steve teased. Bucky grinned.
“Exactly, Stevie. I’ve gotta save face. Can’t have that with a punk like you knocking me over.”
“So you really won’t fight me?” Steve asked.
“I really won’t, Pal,” Bucky agreed. “Your Ma would have my neck.”
“Your Ma would have your neck,” Steve told him seriously, and, yeah, Bucky believed that too.
But God if Bucky didn’t want to do anything for Steve when he was looking at him like that.
It didn’t matter what his mission was trying to do, the Asset wouldn’t budge. He had a job to do, and he would do it well.
His mission was saying something, something that the Asset didn’t really understand and didn’t particularly need to. Just kill his mission, that was his job. Decoding whatever the man was trying to say was a job for someone else.
The man kept talking though, saying ‘Bucky.’ What was a Bucky? Was it intel, a weapon? A code word, or calling for backup? The Asset didn’t need to know if he was discussing a weapon or a plan or speaking nonsense, but he would have to plan accordingly if his mission was trying to access backup. The Asset was efficient at his job, but he wasn’t prepared to fight multiple people.
He would have to, though.
His mission didn’t fight lightly, either. The Asset would estimate that they were almost equal in strength, except the Asset was stronger because he had the Weapon Arm and his mission only had the Weak Arms.
And then the Asset felt a painful snap! as the bone in his weak arm broke and he let out a cry. Just because the Asset wasn’t supposed to react to pain didn’t mean that he didn’t feel it, it just meant that he had to keep pushing through the pain and fight anyways. If he didn’t he would be punished, and that would hurt even more. So he continued fighting.
But again, his mission was a hard man to fight. It would be easier if the man just stopped talking. The asset knew that he wasn’t supposed to care, but it was distracting. The Asset would get hurt if the man kept talking, he would be punished for the words that the man said.
The Asset didn’t know this man. His name was not James Buchanan Barnes like the man said it was. The Asset did not have a name, because he was an asset.
“Shut up!” He finally shouted. His mission was tricky, this man was trying to trick him, trying to distract him from the task at hand by not fighting.
“I’m not gonna fight you,” his mission said. “You’re my friend.”
He wasn’t his friend, though, he wasn’t anybody. He was sent to kill his mission, and that was what he had to do.
So the Asset punched him, again and again, until his blue irises were surrounded by black and blue skin. Even sporting a black eye, the man looked familiar.
And the Asset hated it.
He couldn’t look into those broken eyes, so full of recognition that it hurt nearly as much as his arm did. He wasn’t supposed to know this man, he wasn’t allowed to. Bad things happened when he was recognized.
“You’re my mission.”
Didn’t this man understand? The Asset didn’t have a name, or friends, or anything else. The Asset was nothing but what HYDRA told him to be, even while this bruised and bloodied man told him differently, even as he looked at the Asset through his black eye with a pleading look in his eyes.
The Asset didn’t know this man, and no matter how much he looked at him, he never would.