Mourning
"Steven Grant Rogers was born on July 4th, 1918, in a little hospital on 121 DeKalb Avenue. A few days later, his father was sent off to fight in The Great War. The only part of him that returned was a locket and a set of dog tags.
Steve was my best friend. We met on a little playground across the street from an old church in Brooklyn, where he was getting beat up by a little punk who had been raised to think the world revolved around him. He ended up going home with a black eye and a bloody lip. From that day forward, Steve and I were inseparable.
When his ma died, I decided that he was too upset to be by himself for any prolonged amount of time. So I dragged him into my beat-up apartment and made sure he didn't wallow too much. Once he had sold most of his ma's stuff, we had just enough money to pay the rent and buy a few week's worth of groceries.
We barely survived on my paychecks and Steve's money from selling his artwork. We found out about Pearl Harbor in an art class, and the first thing he said was, 'I'm going to fight.' Most of my unit had been captured by the time he made it to Europe, but he managed to fly to Austria to save us. Little bits of my unit- and other prisoners- teamed up with Steve to form the Howling Commandos. While other soldiers were taking down regular soldiers, we blew up bases full of ray guns and other ridiculously advanced weapons. I was told that after I was captured by HYDRA, Steve crashed a HYDRA plane into the ocean to save New York from being bombed.
I was forced to fight him in D.C., When HYDRA decided to put Project Insight into action. While I was trying to kill him, he managed to stop the Project and send the helicarriers into the water. Project Insight, I was later told, would have been responsible for the deaths of millions of people- including Tony Stark.
I looked through dozens- maybe hundreds- of history books, while I was on the run, trying to figure out who I was and where I came from. There was one thing that none of the books or websites ever covered, though. I always looked at Steve as if he hung the moon. He was the perfect man, even when he weighed 90 pounds and couldn't stay out of a fight to save his life. I loved him more than life itself. I only wanted what was best for him, so you can imagine how pleased- and maybe jealous- I was by the fact that Steve had finally found his other half. And that they got to live a life together, and get the domestic bliss that they had both wanted. I'm sure that if Steve were here now, he would assure us now that he had died a happy man."
Bucky hesitantly looked up at the small group of people crowded around the casket. Steve laid perfectly posed to be dropped in the ground and covered in dirt, his dark suit enveloped in darker shadow. A tear dropped from Sam's face onto Steve's tie, and waited a moment before soaking into the fabric.
~~~
"Mister Barnes? "
Peter stood next to him. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you." Bucky pulled him into a hug. "How's MJ?"
"She's good. Mrs. Potts is teaching her about contract loopholes."
"She wants to be a lawyer?"
"No, she likes knowing stuff." Peter smiled. "I really like her, Mr. Barnes."
"I know, kid." Bucky ruffled Peter's hair and nudged him back in the direction of his aunt. "Good luck wooing her, or whatever you kids do these days."
Peter grinned shyly before going back to stand with his aunt.
"You're really good at this, huh." Sam stared at Steve's casket. "I thought burying one friend was hard, but this." He clenched his jaw. "Dammit. First Riley, now Rogers."
"If it makes you feel better, I don't intend on leaving anytime soon. " Bucky nudged Sam's shoulder with his own. Sam huffed and hesitantly smiled at him. "Sure, man. But you gotta teach me to use the shield."