Prologue
The idea that life was never fair was of course based on the notion that it should be, that every person the whole world over deserved everything they worked for and then some. Steve had always believed in fair, no matter how much life threw at him. A childhood full of doctor’s visits his Ma couldn’t afford, of picking fights on the playground and later dragging himself half dead out of back alleys, of spending hours trying to convince every army recruiter on this side of the city to give him a chance—all in the name of making things more fair.
Standing there in the kitchen of the little apartment, watching the water run aimlessly down the sink and the steam rise from the freshly brewed pot of coffee still clutched in his left hand, listening to the sound of Bucky’s door creak open and shut and the soft click of his new army-issued boots on the wood floor, Steve finally realized that fair shouldn’t even be part of the equation. Life was just a competition, one that Bucky would always win and Steve would never admit that he had lost.
“Hey.” Bucky spoke up quietly from a point behind Steve, who forced himself not to jump because even though he had been distracted he was well aware his friend was approaching. “How do I...do I look okay?”
Steve slammed the coffee pot down onto the counter, only vaguely aware of the new scalding spatters painting his arm. “I’m sure you look fine, Buck.” Steve thought if he didn’t grip the edges of the counter, he might start to float away or slide down through the floor or something equally ridiculous.
Bucky’s new boots clicked heavily on the floor as he moved around the counter and stopped just behind Steve. “Right. Yeah.” Steve could see Bucky’s hand extend towards the abandoned coffee pot, and quickly closed his own fingers around the handle, watching while Buck stepped back hesitantly. He could feel the weight of Bucky’s eyes on his back, and stayed firmly facing the running sink until Bucky spoke again. “So, this...this is it, I guess. For a while, at least.”
The handle in Steve’s hand felt too hot all of a sudden. “You want a mug or are you just gonna go straight from the pot?”
“What? What’s got you all piss and vinegar?”
Bucky’s incredulous tone rubbed Steve all kinds of wrong, but it still didn’t hold a candle to the sight that greeted him when he finally turned around to tear into Buck properly. Any angry retort died on the tip of Steve’s tongue when he saw his friend standing there, all wrapped up in army green, looking every bit the soldier save for the hat settled half sideways on his head.
“It’s your hat. All crooked.” Steve sidestepped around Buck to get to the counter, where a mug already sat half filled with cream and sugar. “Can’t have you going off like that.”
“Really? That’s why you haven’t been able to look me in the eye all week? ‘Cause of my hat?” Bucky’s frustration was overshadowed by the hesitant way he reached up and tried uselessly to center his hat.
“The draft notice, the train ticket in your pocket.” Steve handed Bucky his mug and tried to convey just a bit of contrition in his expression. “The hat.”
It seemed to work for a moment, as Buck half grinned and accepted the mug easily. “Well, ‘Least one of those I can fix, right?”
“Right.” They both stood there staring until Steve couldn’t take the full force of Bucky’s eyes on him any longer. “Coffee’s gonna get cold, Barnes.”
“Yes, Ma.” Steve snorted when Bucky rolled his eyes and took a long sip from his cup, walking over to their little dining room and taking a seat. “Would you…or, do you want to come with me? See me off? I’m gonna have to go places no man should ever have to— Jersey , for god’s sake, Steve.”
As much as Steve had been prepared for the question, and as much as he had practiced telling Bucky exactly why he couldn’t watch him get on that train because if he only just walked out the door, Steve could always believe he’d walk right back in at any time, he couldn’t seem to find a single word to say. Instead, he walked over to Bucky’s side and stilled, pointedly looking somewhere above his head. “Your hat’s still crooked.” It only took a second to reach out and gently tip the hat to the center of Bucky’s head, but the walk to the sink to clean up the coffee pot stretched on forever.
“Huh. Thanks. Good looking out. I’m a soldier now, guess I’ve gotta look the part—and hey, I’ve heard that ladies love a man in uniform.”
If Steve had been thinking less about damned trains he might have picked up on that stinging edge that meant Buck was just trying to get a rise out of him, but all he registered was Bucky completely unconcerned about his imminent departure. The most washing the coffee pot got was from the water left in the sink when Steve threw it down.
“Damn it, Buck! That all you ever think about?”
Buck said nothing back to Steve’s sudden fury, just hid the flash of hurt that crossed his face and started making for the door. “I’d better get going.”
“Jesus, Buck, just wait!” The panic that jolted Steve into grabbing Bucky’s arm didn’t extend to his mouth, and he stood like he’d been struck dumb for a good minute just looking at the hope etched into his friend’s face. “Don’t...I’m sorry. You do look… good. You look…” like a damn hero. Like everything Steve ever wanted, everything he ever wanted for anybody but Buck. Like a door slamming in his face, like a fresh target. “...good.”
The hope didn’t exactly crumble from Buck’s face, but it did soften into something more like wistfulness. “Come with me? Make sure this hat don’t slip on me?”
Steve snorted at that, and looked down at those army issue boots, all spick and span, betraying none of the mud and the muck and the hell they promised, before he had to answer Bucky’s question. “I can’t come with you, Buck.”
If Buck saw what Steve was thinking, he didn’t let on. “Can’t or won’t, Steve?”
“Does it matter?”
“Guess not.” Buck looked down at his watch longer than he needed to and sighed. “I gotta go, though. Can’t miss this train.”
Steve scanned the room for any excuse to spend another minute watching Buck move around their apartment before he was gone. “You haven’t finished your coffee.”
“You can have it. Probably do you more good than it’ll do me. Like my coat, which you’d better hold on to, by the way.”
“Yeah, well. It does look nice hanging on that coat rack. Really brings the room together. Guess I’ll keep it around.”
Steve’s attempt at a joke fell flat when Buck just shook his head and turned to face the door. “God. Don’t know why I try.” They both stood for a moment, Bucky staring at the door and Steve staring at Bucky’s back, no doubt both wishing they were staring each other in the face one more time. “You’d better write me at least. Don’t just forget about me, soon as I’m gone.”
Steve almost laughed, but it curled up and died somewhere in the back of his throat. “Couldn’t if I tried, jerk.” When Buck didn’t make to fill the silence, Steve added, “I’ll write. Promise.”
Buck gave a little nod with his back still to Steve and turned the door handle, pausing before he went to open it. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”
Buck opened the door and stepped out, only pausing to look back at Steve for a moment. Steve was stuck in place, feeling like Bucky was trying to tell him something important with the way he looked at Steve, like he was drinking him in one last time. Steve was halfway to stepping out the door with him, following him to the train station, hesitation be damned, but before he could blink the door shut with a click, and he was alone.