Next five! It's been a long while.

////

"You've been hiding something from me, haven't you?"

////

"I'll see you later," Steve hissed as he hurriedly pushed Bucky down the street. Bucky smiled and saluted as he took off running, before Steve's father rounded the corner.

"Ah, there you are," Joseph spoke, and raised his eyebrows. "What are you doing here?"

"Me and a girl were walkin'," he lied, the lie in question sliding easier and easier off his tongue. It'd been several months, now -- several months since he and his boyfriend had decided to hide their relationship from everyone -- especially Joseph.

"A girl, eh? Molly Dawkins? She's a sweetheart," he said with a wink. Steve forced a smile as his dad clapped him on the shoulder and they started down the street.

Bucky watched quietly from his perch on the fire escape above his apartment. It was the only place where he and Steve could meet that wasn't technically public.

It was the 30's, and gay relationships were illegal -- and the seventeen and eighteen year old boys weren't willing to risk anything. Not yet.

Specifically, the wrath of Steve's father, Joseph -- a firm believer that homosexuality was a sin. He once had flat-out declared that if he knew anyone gay, he would personally escort them down to the station to be arrested -- or, worse, if it came to that.

Steve sat on the couch and pulled out his worn sketchbook, filled with architectural designs, portraits, plants and whatever else he saw day to day. He lingered a second over the portrait of Bucky, his pencil hovering over the page.

"What're you drawing now?" Joseph took his book and flipped through it, smiling a little. His grin faded as he came across a portrait of Steve's mother, Sarah -- now long deceased. He handed the book back. "You should think about selling these, make a little money."

"I don't know." He concentrated on his blank page and started to sketch, his mind wandering. Joseph started on dinner, and the night was quiet after that.

"You sure we can keep this up, Steve?" They sat on the fire escape days later. It was sunset, but still warm out. They sat together with their legs dangling towards the ground. Bucky had his hand intertwined with Steve's, resting on the warm metal.

"I don't know," Steve sighed, looking over at him. "I... I don't wanna lose you, Buck."

"I know," he said softly, then turned his face and kissed him gently. Steve kissed back deeper, holding his cheek, emotion swelling through him. And Bucky let him.

"Steve -- Steve," he finally murmured, pulling away. Steve looked down and swallowed, then he heard Bucky sigh and stand up. "C'mon, doll," he said softly. "I gotta go."

Steve stood too, holding his hands gently. He pressed their foreheads together and Bucky closed his eyes, his throat tightening.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Steve promised, before climbing over the side and jumping back through the window into his apartment. Bucky watched him go before stepping inside his own apartment.

Joseph was there. "You've been hiding something from me, haven't you?"

Steve froze, ice shooting through his veins. Joseph walked over, his steps precise. Steve stared at him.

"Fetch him for me," his father said softly, and Steve didn't move. "Now!" He slammed his fist against the wall, and Steve inched away. Joseph opened the window and glanced across the way to Bucky's apartment.

"Don't," Steve begged. "Don't hurt him, father, please -- "

Joseph slapped him so hard his head spun and he staggered against the wall. "You're an ungrateful, pathetic excuse for my son," he spat, hitting him again. "I raised you right, and now -- " He punched him and pushed him harshly against the wall.

Steve felt blood trickle down his mouth and nose, and he almost lost his balance against the open window.

"You're going to forget about this," he growled, smacking his palm against his ear. "Understand me?"

"Stop, please! I didn't -- I -- I didn't do anything -- "

He hit him once more and Steve fell back, the back of his head snapping against the window frame. Black burst in his eyes and he panted for breath. Joseph stared down at him, chest heaving, before he left.

Steve forced himself to his feet, his legs useless underneath him. He shakily leapt across the way and missed, but clung desperately at the metal. Finally, muscles shaking, he heaved himself up and over and he lay on his back, feeling nauseous.

"Bucky!" he called. "Buck, get out here, we need -- we have to go," he finished weakly, his head spinning faster, blackness creeping in to the edges of his vision.

When he opened his eyes, Bucky was standing over him, looking concerned. "What the hell happened?"

"He knows."

Bucky's expression changed and he hauled him to his feet. "Let's go." He led him into the apartment, and from there, they fled -- somewhere they could start new.

Somewhere they could finally be safe and happy.

That one got long...

////

"Would it be alright if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you..."

////

Steve sighed as he lay on the couch, his eyes closed, nose red and stuffy. He hadn't had a cold since he was little, and he had not missed it in the slightest.

Nausea washed over him and he took a sip of ginger ale. He rubbed his eyes and swallowed.

Bucky was at work and Steve's phone was upstairs, so he hadn't had a chance to tell him that he was sick. He had, however, been keeping an eye on the clock, and he just had to wait another hour.

He bit back a yawn and moved to get more comfortable, shivering on the couch but too sick to do anything about it. His head kept falling onto his chest, and he'd snap awake at the last minute -- but, slowly, sleep overtook him.

"Hey," Bucky called as he walked into the apartment, dropping his boots and gear at the door. "You home, Stevie?"

He walked into the living room and spotted him, then eyed the red cheeks, messy hair, and shallow breathing. He sighed and kneeled next to him, pressing a hand against his forehead to check for a fever. Luckily for him, it was just a common flu -- probably a 24 hour deal.

"'Course you got yourself sick," he mumbled to himself, standing up again. "Guess some things never change... "

He took a step away and Steve lightly grabbed his sleeve. "Hey," he croaked, his voice almost gone. Bucky smiled a little and squeezed his hand.

"Good job getting yourself sick," he commented as he refilled his ginger ale and pulled a blanket from the linen closet.

"I know," he murmured, eyes closed.

"Need anything?"

He peeked an eye open. "Would it be alright if I borrowed your sweater?" He looked at him, cheeks even more enflamed. "It smells like you... "

"You can't smell though," Bucky pointed out, but crossed into his room to grab it anyway.

"It's comforting," Steve mumbled as he pulled it over his trembling self, before he settled in again. Bucky made sure he was comfortable before sitting in the living room chair, able to keep an eye on him but not having to hover.

"You gonna be okay?" He turned on a show he knew Steve liked and dimmed the lights, then inched the chair closer. Steve nodded and sniffled, and managed a tired smile.

"I'll be fine," he dismissed. "Thanks, Buck."

Bucky smiled at that and nodded. "'Course, Steve."

////

"You're my new pillow."

////

"Bucky -- come on -- "

"'M asleep," he uttered, pressing his face against his shoulder, wrapping his arms around him from behind. Steve sighed a little and rolled to face him.

"We gotta get up," he said, and Bucky shook his head, pressed against his neck and kissed him lazily.

"Nope," he yawned. "You're my new pillow."

It was a Sunday before Steve had to leave for a week-long mission; nothing fancy, but Bucky was tired of getting left behind to worry all the time. He didn't want to spend the last day running errands when he could spend it doing nothing.

Steve rolled over, propped himself up onto his elbow, and looked amused as he studied him. Bucky pouted at the movement.

"So you're not moving."

"Nah."

Steve shrugged. "Fine, you've convinced me." He wrapped his arms around him and kissed his cheek, and Bucky made a sound of content.

"Knew you'd see it my way."

Bucky kissed him gently and his husband ran a hand into his hair and played with it as he kissed back. He smiled at him, his eyes warm, and Bucky smiled back and huddled closer, and closed his eyes.

////

"How about a kiss?"

////

"How about a kiss?"

Steve sighed inwardly as he leaned in and kissed her goodnight -- a quick peck that left her bright red and him desperately wishing the night to be over.

He was tired of these dates. Sure, the girls were pretty, some of them charming, but none of them seemed to click -- and Steve had no idea how to tell Natasha that he also liked men.

He walked down the street with his head down, then he decided to give Nat a call anyway to tell her how it'd gone.

"Hey, Natasha," he sighed.

"That good, huh?" Natasha stretched out on her couch. "What was wrong with this one? Too nice?"

"I don't know," he said as he crossed the street. "Didn't feel a connection, you know?"

"And you're sure you're not just picky?"

Steve huffed, frustrated. "Look, I'm trying, okay?"

"I know, I know." He basically heard the smile over the line. "I just don't wanna see you lonely."

He smiled a little. "Yeah." Glancing at his watch, he stepped towards an entrance to a bar. "I'm gonna let you go though, thanks, Nat."

"Don't worry about it." She smiled and hung up.

He stepped through the bar and slouched into a seat, tapping the wooden countertop absently.

"What'll it be, pal?" The bartender asked without looking. Steve didn't bother looking up.

"Just a water, please."

The bartender turned and raised an eyebrow. "Hard drinker, huh?" Shaking his head, he poured him a glass. "Guess it's the smart option," he mused as he slid it over. Steve picked it up and stared at it, as if it held all the answers he needed. "You look down," the bartender commented, and Steve looked up.

Stormy eyes stared back at him and Steve took in the full sight of a brunet with a ponytail and a stubble, about as tall as him standing up. Steve stared for a moment, and then another moment, before he swallowed and took a chug of water.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, um, rough night," he answered, feeling his cheeks beginning to heat up. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Just got back from a date, so..." He cringed at himself.

The brunet smiled in amusement, arms folded on the bar as he watched him. "Clearly," he said, nodding to the water. "Can I get you anything stronger?"

"Maybe later," he muttered, flushing a darker pink as the possible implications of what that could mean hit him. The bartender smiled at this.

"I'm James, by the way," he introduced. "Most call me Bucky."

"Bucky, huh?" Steve considered this and nodded. "I'm Steve, Steve Rogers."

"Well, Steve, you've picked the night to come here," he said, nodding to the rest of the bar. Apparently it was a quiet night, but with twenty something people there, Steve wasn't sure how that could count as slow. "Got your pick of back-up dates," he elaborated.

Steve nodded slowly as he sipped his drink, and he glanced at him as Bucky returned to cleaning down glasses, but kept his body turned towards Steve.

"That is, if that's your sort of deal," he added with a raised eyebrow. Steve furrowed his and looked around them. He hadn't noticed in the dim light, but not a single woman was anywhere in sight.

Oh. "I, uh, hadn't noticed," he said sheepishly, and Bucky paused to give him an incredulous look.

"You... didn't know you were in a gay bar?" He grinned and shook his head. "That's impressive, Steve."

"I have poor eyesight," he dismissed, his face burning. "Plus, it's super dark in here."

"I hope you don't mind it..?"

Steve looked at him, surprised to find him looking cautious, as if hoping he was there for a reason. Steve smiled at him a little and nodded.

"No, no, that's, uh. Fine," he said and tapped the countertop again. Bucky smiled and brushed a hair away from his face. Steve watched him, already liking this guy.

They talked more and more throughout the night, laughing and talking about everything and anything.

"You're a nice guy, Steve," Bucky hummed, leaning on the counter to be closer to him. "Here -- " He pulled out a card and hastily wrote his number on it. "Just in case you need another back-up date."

"Hm, hopefully the next person I ask I won't need that," he murmured. "Speaking of, you free this Friday?"

Bucky smiled and rolled his eyes. "Seven o'clock I get off work, you can pick me up here. No bars, though."

"Dinner it is," Steve agreed, smiling softly. He glanced at the clock and raised his eyebrows. "Time really flies," he commented as he stood and placed money on the counter.

"Seven o'clock," Bucky reminded with a smile as he waved him out.

"Looking forward to it." Steve smiled back and headed out, then paused and took a deep breath. He called Nat and she answered with a groggy "What do you want?"

"I got myself a date," he said proudly, and she sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes.

"I'm so proud of you! What's her name?"

"Well, for starters... his name is Bucky."

It was silent for a moment, then Nat cursed loudly. "I should've seen that coming!" she protested, then sighed. "Well, you coulda' told me. I have so many good guy friends."

"Don't need 'em now." He smiled as he described the night, and she was beaming on the other end. "Anyways, I gotta go, sorry for waking you."

"Don't worry about it, Steve. Have a good night."

Steve smiled to himself. "'Night, Natasha."

He couldn't wait until Friday.

////

"Don't get up, I'll do it."

////

They were going to die. Bucky knew they were, it was only a matter of time.

Steve staggered to his feet, panting, his vision flickering in and out. "If you wanna get to him... you gotta... go through me," he heaved.

The silent soldier said nothing, only stared. Gritting his teeth, Steve leapt into action, and soon enough, blood was flying -- and Bucky couldn't tell whose it was.

They tackled each other to the ground and Bucky struggled to his hands and knees. "Steve, no -- " He gasped, pulling himself over to him.

"Don't get up, I'll do it," Steve assured, panting as he pulled back and finally knocked out the soldier. He stumbled over to Bucky and collapsed, on the verge of passing out. He clutched at his bleeding stomach and closed his eyes. "That... went well," he breathed.

"You're such an idiot," Bucky sighed as he pulled him close, wiping a trail of blood from his mouth. Steve's head fell to his shoulder as he slouched against Bucky. "Stay with me, Steve," he muttered, wrapping an arm around him as blackness swarmed his vision. "Stay with me... "

Exhausted from the fight, weary and injured, they passed out -- nobody else around except for fallen soldiers. But, they were together.