Bad, Bad Company

Steve Rogers was never the strongest man, nor was he the smartest. He was a young man that couldn’t breathe right and he was too stubborn to listen to people. Steve had grown up sickly and it was a miracle he’d lived to see double digits. After his mom died, he’d been eighteen and threw himself into schooling thanks to the scholarship he’d been able to get for kids that lost their parents considering his dad was KIA in Vietnam when he was little. Now his small apartment in a complex in the heart of Brooklyn New York had become his studio.The apartment wasn’t bad, Bucky decided. He’d slept on far worse and in far more concerning places. He managed Afghanistan, he could handle New York. The apartment was a bit dingy. There was wallpaper that had to be from the 40s, a couch that seemed to be mostly springs instead of cushion, and there was the faint smell of mildew that Mrs.Garcia had assured him disappeared when it wasn’t raining. We'll, better than Afghanistan.-A modern AU where Bucky hurts and Steve helps, but he's got his own issues too. Author is new to this and has no clue how many chapters this will have! Consistent updates TBD

Hello! This work will contain some sensitive topics such as PTSD, severe injury, flashbacks, and some various other tomfoolery. TWs will be posted at the start of each chapter!TWs - none