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They were supposed to meet to go see the pictures. Steve had promised Bucky that he’d be there, he just needed to do a thing. Bucky should have known that meant trouble, but he really wanted to make sure to get a good seat. Being 5 foot 4 inches made seeing over peoples’ heads really difficult and he wanted to make sure he could see.
They were partway through the war reel when Bucky realized Steve still hadn’t come in. He glanced around, but turned back just as little Timmy was putting scrap metal into his wagon. Bucky sat through the rest of the reel and then they started with the news reel. Steve still hadn’t showed up.
When the cartoons had ended, Bucky really started to worry. He got up from his perfect seat and made his way to the lobby, the smell of popcorn making his stomach rumble. He didn’t see Steve and so he went outside to check the alleys.
“Steve!” Bucky cried, running towards his friend.
“Not now, Buck,” Steve replied, dodging another punch before aiming a kick at his oponent’s side.
“Kinda busy here.”
“Not again, Steve!” Bucky yelled. He ran into the alley, trying to get between Steve and the other guy. He could see Steve’s chest heaving unevenly, worried that an asthma attack would hit Steve at any moment.
“You’re going to give yourself an attack,” Bucky said, still trying to shimmy his way closer to Steve.
“You shoulda seen this dolt, makin’ faces at the dames passin’ by,” Steve said exasperatedly. He got a good right hook in and the guy’s tooth went flying.
“Doesn’t matter if you’re dead, Steve,” Bucky said. He turned to the other guy who stood at least half a foot taller than Bucky.
“Go pick on someone else, big guy! Leave Steve alone.”
“He started it, pipsqueak.”
“Oh ho, bad move fella,” Steve said menacingly. “Don’t you go makin’ fun of my friend.”
Steve redoubled his attempts to knock the guy senseless and Bucky could do nothing but stand on the side trying not to get flayed. His eyes flicked back and forth, following the action. He did his best to melt into the wall, hoping that the guy wouldn’t want to come at him.
He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he knew it would be pointless to try and go back to the picture, especially since Steve was dripping blood all over the place.
Bucky sighed. “Come on, Stevie…let’s get you home so my Ma can patch you up.”
“Thanks, Buck,” Steve replied. His breaths became more labored as they progressed towards Bucky’s house, so they stopped against the side of a building. Bucky rubbed his small hand over Steve’s chest, trying to help his heart stop beating so erratically.
“Just breathe with me, Stevie, okay?” Bucky said, taking deep breaths himself. They stayed like that until Steve’s breaths were regular and his heartbeat was as normal as it ever got.
“Thank, Buck,” Steve said again, draping his arm around the smaller boy’s shoulder.
They were a funny sight: tall, battered man leaning on another with a smaller frame.
“Let’s get you home Stevie,” Bucky told him. “I’m glad you stopped bleedin’. You know how Ma feels about you gettin’ blood all over her carpets.”
Steve looked down and smiled. His lips was split and his eye was nearly swollen shut. “You’re a real hero, Bucky…gettin’ me outta so many scrapes.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “You know what I say,” he said, leaning up to ruffle Steve’s blood matted hair, “I’m with you…’til the end of the line.”