Whoo boy. The next three chapters (this one included) are not fun. They are angst. So prepare yourself, because it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

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In Steve's opinion, there were only two types of old people -- sweet, or vicious. His grandmother was somehow both.

And Joseph couldn't agree more.

"Steven," he whispered, gesturing him across the room. Raising an eyebrow, Steve walked over and folded his arms.

"What's up, dad?"

Joseph wrinkled his nose at his poor grammar, but continued. "I need you to keep your grandmother downstairs," he said. "I have a few friends over upstairs in my office."

"As a secondary dinner party so you don't have to deal with her?" He smiled faintly, and his father grumbled something and nodded reluctantly.

"Will you do this for me?"

"Of course, father."

Joseph's grin was wider than Steve had ever really seen. "I owe you one," he said in a conspiratorially low voice as he began to slink away.

"Steven darling, what were you two conspiring about?"

"Nothing."

Sarah sighed and rushed into the kitchen to check on dinner. The main guest to impress was, of course, Elaine Bowes, her mother -- a small, imposing character of Irish descent with piercing blue eyes, steely gaze and blonde-grey hair always done up in a loose bun. Sarah bore a striking resemblance to her -- or, so she was told.

Steve checked the time, rolled his eyes, and went to fetch Bucky. "Dress well, but not formally, and don't wear anything bright," he'd said. He prayed Bucky listened well.

"Hi, Mrs. Barnes," he said as Winifred pulled the door open. She looked a little worse for wear, but still, she greeted Steve with her soft smile.

"Hi, Steve, Bucky'll be down in a moment. Would you like to come inside for a cup of tea?"

"Oh, thanks for the offer," he said sheepishly. "My mother's making a big dinner, so... "

"Oh, is she using the recipe book I gave her? I hope she liked it," Winifred commented. Steve smiled and nodded.

"She loves it, yeah." The book was filled with hand-written recipes from the Barnes' own family line. Winifred had gifted it to them a few weeks ago. Steve's mother actually used it often.

Bucky came down the stairs, frowning down at his sweater. "Ma, d'you think this is gonna be fine or -- " He stopped and noticed Steve, and smiled as he saw him.

Bucky had followed his advice to a t. Wearing a simple button up and nice jeans, he looked cleaned up but not too formal, and didn't stand out.

Exactly as Elaine would've preferred it.

"You look great," Steve promised.

"Yeah? Pulling off innocent-straight-boy with a mix of church-goer?"

"Okay," Winifred said, smiling and giving her head a shake. She gave him a gentle push out the door. "Have fun, okay? Steve, you'll watch out for him, won't you?"

"Promise," Steve agreed. Bucky scoffed and kissed his mother's cheek as they headed across the way to Steve's house. Winifred watched them leave, a smile on her face as she closed the door.

"Okay, she isn't here yet, that gives us about twenty minutes before she shows up," he explained as they walked inside. "It's... almost six thirty."

"So, ground rules?"

"Don't be weird or mention being gay in any way."

Bucky snorted. "Obviously."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Even if there's a really clever gay pun or something." Bucky nodded again.

"Gotcha. Permission to give you a look if I hear an opportunity for said pun?"

Steve considered it. "A quick look, I'll understand what you mean," he agreed, and Bucky smiled.

"See? We totally got this."

////

Bucky was internally screaming.

They did not, in fact, got this.

Sat at the dinner table, Bucky felt Elaine's eyes burning into his skull. He didn't dare look at her. Steve sat intentionally closer to Bucky so their legs pressed together -- the smallest reminder that he was still there with him.

"Bucky's mother was an artist," Sarah was saying, with a nod towards Bucky. Elaine caught on the phrasing and leaned in.

"And what's she do now?"

"She's, uh, sick," Bucky said and cleared his throat a little. Elaine lowered her glasses and stared at him disapprovingly.

"Mm, I would be."

Bucky met her gaze and straightened his shoulders. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Well, look at you." Elaine waved her fork with disdain. Sarah quietly pulled Elaine's wine away from her grasp. "To have an... abomination for a son. I'm surprised Sarah hasn't said anything yet."

"Mother," Sarah said through gritted teeth.

"That isn't necessary," Steve said, glancing worriedly at Bucky. Elaine grabbed Steve's hand and patted it.

"Steven, honey, listen to me. I know you're a young man now, you want to experience new things, but this... You grew up in a particular household with specific beliefs. This isn't good for you, dear."

"Can we just eat the meal while it's warm? Please?"

"And you." Elaine turned to Bucky, eyes narrowed. Steve took his hand and Bucky kept his eyes on her. "Perverting my grandson this way, how dare you," she spat. "And Sarah, dear, the breed of people, good heavens -- "

"That's enough!" Steve snapped, his chest tightening. "I've dealt with far worse than you, grandmother. I don't care what you say," he said through gritted teeth. They glared at each other for a moment. Bucky felt Steve's hand trembling.

"Must we do this in the open, Steve honey?"

After another beat of silence, Elaine got up and walked into the next room. Cursing under his breath, Steve got up and joined her. Bucky, tense, simply stared at his plate.

Sarah closed her eyes and rubbed her temple, sighing.

"I don't understand what you're getting upset at me for," Elaine said sternly, holding and patting his hand. "Steven, when you were little I used to tell you stories, you'd read to me. You were such a good, strong boy." She took on a softer tone. "I'm your grandmother, dear, I know the real you. This isn't you."

"It is. And it kills me that you won't accept that."

She looked stern once more. "I fear you're being manipulated," she said coldly. "And there's nothing I can do for you but hope. I worry for you, honey. At least admit he's not cut from the same cloth."

Bucky shuffled uncomfortably where he sat. "I'm going to see what's taking them," he said quietly, wishing he could've taken a page from Joseph's book and hidden away.

"No," Steve answered. Elaine squinted at him.

Bucky quietly snuck around the corner, not wanting to disturb them.

"Steve," she said softly. "Admit it. The burden will lift off of you when you do. He isn't right for you."

"He -- you're wrong. You're nothing but a liar and I never -- "

Slap. The sound seemed to ring about the room, and Steve cupped his cheek. Elaine had tears dripping down her face.

"Never speak to me like that again, do you understand me? I raised you to show respect to your elders -- "

Slap.

"And I expect you to do so."

Steve was shaking, and every time he closed his eyes, he saw in his childhood how close they were. Talk about adding insult to injury.

"You're... right, grandmother. He's... "

Bucky edged around the corner and peeked in. Steve was leaning against the door, his eyes welling with tears.

"Spit it out, Steven, you can tell me anything."

"He's no good," he mumbled, his voice shaking. He seemed to be shying away from her, wary of another attack. "He doesn't... belong... here." He choked out the words. "You were right, he's... different. He's worthless." He was crying, harder than before.

Elaine clicked her tongue and pulled him against her. Steve flinched but clung to her tightly, tears spilling down his face, wishing things could be the way they were.

All Bucky could do was stare. I knew it. He's right. They were all right.

I don't belong.

Steve doesn't love me. He can't.

It was a lie.

They were right.

They were right.

They were right.

Bucky took off running, and, hearing the commotion, Steve ran out to see what was happening. Bucky, his mind whirling, tried desperately to think of where to run to.

He couldn't face home. Not now. Not all the questions. Halfway towards the stream, he let out a sound of frustration. Steve was there too. They'd been everywhere together. Steve who apparently believed all the things they said. Steve who didn't love him. Steve who didn't care.

Steve who believed that he was worthless, that he was scum, that he was a mutt, and Bucky ran alongside the road.

"Bucky -- Bucky!" Steve yelled, chasing after him. Bucky looked back, and he didn't look where he was going.

He didn't see the car coming speeding back from town, barreling down the road in between the barriers.

Steve saw.

"Bucky, stop!" he screamed, and a split second later, it was too late.