Five, five and five again. Let's go.

////

"Stay in bed."

////

Steve was determined to help Bucky get better, despite the fact that they were in the same boat.

Somehow, both had come down with a cold at the same time. Steve insisted he was fine, so he made it his mission to help the brunet for once.

"Steve, seriously," Bucky sighed, watching him as he walked in with a bowl of soup. "Stay in bed."

"I'm fine," Steve insisted, setting the bowl beside him. "It's just a cough. Really."

Bucky gave him a pointed look. "Does that mean I'm well enough to get up too?"

"You're a little sicker than me, I think," Steve replied.

"You look like death."

"That's rude." Steve sat on the edge of the bed and caught himself wanting to lie down and sleep. Bucky studied him.

"In bed. Now," Bucky said.

"Buck -- "

"Nope," Bucky replied as he tugged his hand, toppling him onto the bed. Steve looked at him, annoyed.

"This really matters to you?"

Bucky nodded. "I'll feel much better."

Steve rolled his eyes and joined him, muttering about how Bucky needed more help than he did.

"Okay, Stevie," Bucky simply agreed, wrapping the blanket around them tighter. He shuffled closer so their backs touched and tried to get some sleep, ignoring the stuffiness of his head.

"Don't forget your food," Steve warned, turning his head.

"Alright, Stevie."

"And drink lots of juice, okay?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Goodnight, Stevie."

After a week or two, they were back to healthy. Steve said that it was his efforts that helped Bucky - he didn't argue.

////

"Stop laughing at me!"

////

"Stop laughing at me!" The little girl protested, standing strong against the five boys gathered around her. Another girl was on the ground, crying.

She flailed a punch, and they only laughed harder.

Steve stepped in and shot her a look. She stood her ground and Steve raised his fists.

"Leave her alone," he snapped. They turned their attention to him, instead.

"Here to protect your girlfriend, huh?"

Bucky joined them, raising his eyebrows. "Well, I'm here to protect my boyfriend," he pointed out. Steve shot him a quick look. The girl shared a glance with them and they began fighting again.

Her curly brown hair was pulled, so Steve stepped in and took the next hit. Whenever he missed a hit, Bucky was there to protect them both.

They fought as a team, an unspoken agreement that they had to stick together; a group of ten and eleven-year olds tackling bullies bigger than themselves.

Bucky did the most damage. Steve was the quickest, and the girl was fierce. Finally, they chased the bullies off. The girl immediately returned to the other girl on the ground, a blonde in a muddy pink dress. She helped her up and brushed her off.

"You're a good fighter," Steve said as he walked over, shoving his hands in his pockets. She wiped the dirt off of her blue dress and retrieved her red hat, shrugging a little.

"Mama told me to stand up for myself."

"What's your name, girlie?" Bucky stuck out a hand and grinned. "I'm Bucky, that's Stevie."

"Peggy," she replied and shook his hand, then glanced at the other girl. "That's Angie."

The two boys nodded. Steve looked around and noted that the sun was beginning to set. He turned to Bucky.

"Ma's home any minute, Buck."

"We better go," Bucky added, nodding to the girls. "Take care of yourselves."

Peggy grinned at him and she and Angie skipped off without another word.

I just had the idea of them meeting young and protecting each other.

////

"Just say that it is okay. I just need to hear you say it."

////

Bucky gave a strangled gasp as he was pulled back into the dark living room, a hand around the hilt of the knife in his chest yanking him back.

"Answer it," the voice growled in his ear. Bucky coughed, blood bubbling from his mouth. Eyes watering, he answered the phone and held it to his ear.

"Hey, sweetheart," Steve said as he walked around the store, pushing the cart. Bucky held his hand over his mouth, silently dripping blood.

"Hey," he choked, trying to sound normal. Steve paused and listened to his ragged breathing.

"You okay?"

Bucky swallowed, giving an involuntary tremble. The knife was twisted and he bit down on his knuckle to keep from crying out.

"No," Bucky confessed and the knife was driven deeper. "Steve, I might be gone when you get back, okay?"

"Buck? What's happening?" Steve pushed his empty cart to the side and began walking to the exit, his heart in his throat.

"I'm sorry," Bucky wavered. The assassin behind him huffed impatiently and shifted where they sat, fixing their grip on the knife.

"I'm coming right back -- "

"No," Bucky hissed. "Steve, don't," he begged, coughing again and spitting out blood.

"Bucky, you're hurt," Steve snapped, hurrying down the street back to the apartment.

"Just say that it's okay. I just need to hear you say it," Bucky panted, quickly draining colour. The assassin pulled back and stood up, and Bucky slid to the floor.

"Buck..?" His voice cracked so he swallowed and began to run, praying he'd make it there in time.

"Please, Steve."

"I -- " Steve went faster, faster, until he was running full tilt. "It's okay, Buck," he panted. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry," Bucky murmured.

When Steve got there, Bucky was long dead, the blood leaked out onto the carpet, the knife stuck in his chest.

Steve could never get over it.

////

"I love you and I am terrified."

////

"You're looking at me funny," Steve commented, raising an eyebrow. "What'd you do?"

Bucky stared at him helplessly. "I..."

"Hey," Steve said in a softer tone, looking a little more concerned. "What's up?"

Bucky stared for a second more before blinking. "I love you and I'm terrified."

Steve looked at him and frowned a little, confused. "Terrified..?"

"Of rejection." He took a breath, ran a hand through his hair. "Of ridicule, of being hunted down -- "

"Buck, nobody would do that," Steve interrupted, raising a hand. Bucky shot him a worried glance. "I was afraid of that, too." Bucky tilted his head at him and Steve sighed slowly. "When I came out of the ice... I had a lot of questions. One I asked Natasha was mainly regarding same sex relationships. She told me they were okay now."

Bucky didn't look convinced.

"Well, there's still a ways to go of course, but it's so much better than it was," Steve explained.

"So... I could theoretically ask you on a  date?" Bucky said cautiously, and Steve blushed and cleared his throat.

"I'd love that, actually."

Bucky slowly grinned and he lunged forwards, wrapping his arms around him. Steve smiled and hugged him back.

"This will be the best date, you will not regret it," Bucky declared, pulling back and standing up, already trying to gather clever ideas of what to do on said date. Steve smiled as he watched him. "You're a gem, Stevie."

Steve looked down at his lap as Bucky hurried out of the room. "Love you too, Buck."

////

"Why does it hurt so much?"

////

Bucky blinked down at the blond, confusion written on his face. He didn't... know him, really. Did he?

He was holding his hand. The blond was holding his hand as tight as he could.

"You're... bleeding," Bucky said quietly, staring at him. Steve took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, nodding his head yes.

"Do you know me?" Steve breathed, dragging in a heavy breath, which triggered a cough that brought blood to his mouth. Bucky blinked.

"No."

"That should make it easier," Steve muttered. "But it doesn't." He looked at him, and Bucky didn't like the pain he saw in his eyes. Raw, human. He sat down, shifting his position, and sitting closer to the dying blond.

"What's your name?" Bucky asked softly.

Steve let out another hacking cough. "Steve," he panted. "We were friends."

"Oh," Bucky murmured, feeling something like guilt drop in his stomach, tightening and uncomfortable. He decided he hated the feeling.

"I should be glad you won't remember me, so why," Steve choked, squeezing his hand tighter. "Why does it hurt so much?"

Bucky stared at him helplessly. "I... I'm sorry, I... "

"It's okay, Bucky," Steve murmured, his eyes surprisingly clear. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I'm sorry."

"You -- wait -- " Bucky shook his head a little, to clear it. Steve collapsed, his eyes trained on Bucky, and he huffed out his last breath, blood leaking from his nose and mouth.

Bucky stared at him, his head spinning. His eyes slowly brimmed with tears and he looked down at his other hand, to find himself holding a dagger, the blade driven into Steve's chest up to the hilt.

"Oh, God," Bucky said faintly, dropping his hand, his eyes locked on his face, that empty expression. "Steve, I'm -- oh my God," he wavered, tears slipping down his face. "No, no, no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

Bucky grit his teeth and tried not to cry any harder than that, but he failed.

He rememebered; that was his first mistake.

He never forgave himself.

////

That was fun.