˚ ༘ 𝕿𝐖𝐎 𝕲𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒 彡
꒰‧⁺ ⇢ ❝ 𝒞𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝒯𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴 ¡! ❞ ˊˎ
- ̗̀ ๑❪( ◌⁺ ˖˚ ಿ goodbye brooklyn.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

𝕿𝑯𝑬 𝑹𝑨𝒀𝑺 𝑶𝑭 SHIELDED SUNLIGHT ON HIS PALE SKIN AWOKE RAYMOND FROM HIS DREAMS OF LONGING REST; HIS EYES REFUSING TO CRACK OPEN TO THE SUN'S WARMTH. He didn't welcome the luminous view of the living room, and he planned on staying planted on the couch for as long as he could but was intruded by a hand fleeing through his hair and a delicate voice speaking.

"Raymond, wake up, darling."

His own mother's voice was like another blanket being poured over him, filling him with the warmth comfort brought. The aroma of her lavender-scented gowns churned in his nostrils; the sweet, floral smell therapeutic for him as her nimble fingertips developed a rhythm in petting his hair to stir him awake.

He chose to wake up gradually, his eyes inching open a bit at a time; detecting glimpses of his mother's twirled hair until he got the full picture. "Hmm, morning." His voice was possessed with the morning affect as he shuffled up against the couch; sparing his mother a tired smile in greeting.

"I made you breakfast."

His appetite was poor, but Raymond didn't object as he sat up and made his way over to the kitchen table; knowing the percentage of having another good meal will be dropping miraculously as of today. He kissed her cheek as he sat down. "Thanks, Mum. Is Dennis up, or is he sleeping in as always?"

"No. He's very much so awake." Another voice sounded from behind him, his younger brother, Dennis, entering; rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Good morning to you too."

Raymond smiled as his sibling took a seat beside him, wrapping his arm around him and giving his shoulder a short squeeze before letting go. "You coming to say goodbye to your big brother today?"

"Obviously." Dennis scoffed, taking a sip from the glass of milk his mother had generously poured before licking his lips clean; a sad look soon dampening his eyes as he set the glass down. "I should be going with you though."

"We've been over this, Dennis. You're too young." Was all Raymond answered, biting the inner flesh of his cheek to refrain from speaking any further. However, Dennis wasn't done just yet.

"I'm sixteen - almost seventeen! I'm well equipped to fight! The system is rigged!" His voice grew louder in an attempt to push his point, his brother rolling his eyes as he finished the mouthful of food he was chewing.

"The system is rigged, but not for that reason! No one in this war is equipped to fight, Dennis! No one! You're better off here!" When his brother didn't falter in trying to push his narrative, Raymond Fossum let out a huge groan. "I don't get it! Why are so you keen to fight?"

"Because it's the right thing to do!"

"War doesn't determine who is right, and who is wrong! It only determines who is left standing in the end!" Raymond's hands curled into fists on the counter, leaning forwards with eyes that were sealed thickly in seriousness. "Your opinion doesn't matter any more than mine! No one's words matter here! Not when they're not even going to be listened to in the first place!"

"Dad would've wanted me to fight! He always told us to fight for what we believe in!" The mention of their father brought whole new aura to the room, a tension now residing between the two brothers as Raymond snapped.

"And look where that got him! Six feet under in a casket!" The eldest Fossum boy slammed his fist on the counter, too caught up in the moment to even notice that it made his poor mother flinch. "You don't want to end up like that, Dennis! You don't want to end up like me and dad!"

"Boys!" Their mother's yelling cut them off, her loud voice bringing them back to child-like obedience as she glared at each of them; her voice just as cold as her stare. "That's enough."

"He started it." Dennis huffed, taking a spoonful and shoving it in his mouth with furious chews as they sat and ate in a heavy silence.

Raymond timidly met eyes with his mother, and could instantly tell she was unhappy with his words. Hell, he was starting to regret them himself. He never liked arguing with his brother, and they hardly ever did on anything too serious. But, like always, war was always a divided topic.

"We're having the Barnes family over for dinner later tonight!" Mrs Fossum tried to defuse the situation by changing the subject, looking at her eldest son with a limp smile as she cut up her breakfast. "I would've asked Steve if he would like to accompany us, but I haven't seen him lately. Will he be joining us at the docks?"

"We said our goodbyes last night." The awkwardness was killing Raymond as he shuffled in his seat. "So . . . probably not."

"I just can't help but feel bad for the boy sometimes. All alone, with no parents. And now you and Bucky are leaving. It must be hard on him." Both of her boys collectively looked up when they heard her voice drip with sadness, her eyes focused on the counter as she released a nostalgic laugh. "Seems like it was only yesterday when you three boys were running outside, chasing each other."

"Don't they still do that?" Dennis asked with a chuckle, smirking when his brother gave him a look that could only be described as a playful glare. "And I'm sure Steve will be fine. Who knows, by the time you and Bucky return, he'll have all the girls in Brooklyn under his arm."

"A man can only hope." Raymond sniggered, his eyes shifting to the old clock his father had spent almost an entire day nailing to the wall. His shoulders slumped at the displayed time, knowing the time he had left would only be spent getting prepared. "I should start packing."

"I'll help." His mum jumped at the chance, already crossing the kitchen to leave for his room hastily.

"Are you sure? I don't have much to pack anyway. I can do it myself." Her eldest kindly insisted, following after her with his brother trailing behind in just plain nosiness.

"Nonsense. I helped your father pack up his things years ago, and it's only fair I do the same for you." Nancy Fossum held a sure look as she folded a shirt Raymond had been too tired to fold last night. Her son was quick to rush over and do the next one before her hand could even touch the pile, causing her to smile as she looked up. She admired the way he concentrated on his folding, his tongue poking out of the corner of his lips - a habit he had developed through his father. Her smile broadened as she reached forward to touch his cheek, stopping him when her thumb swiped smoothly over his soft skin. "My sweet, soldier of a boy."

Raymond felt his eyelids close and open in rapid blinks, soon realising it to be the reflex when holding back the hot sting of tears that he currently could feel painting over his eyes. Her touch helped him connect with the atmosphere that was home, and how much he was going to miss it when he left.

Once again, he asked for more time. Just a few more days to bask in his mother's seraphic humming as he helped her cook the late evening meals, or set the table while Dennis teased him childishly.

He wished to have more time where he wasn't considered "valuable" to his country, despite him being nothing but a body shield for the government.

His father said to always live in the moment, and Raymond - as his head tucked into his mother's neck in a warm embrace - was beginning to understand why. He may be leaving Brooklyn, his hometown, but he was also leaving his real home; the one he had built with his family.

Raymond wanted to soak in the happiness while it lasted. He wanted to cherish this moment; knowing that it will soon be nothing but a homely memory he thinks of in the trenches as he clutches a loaded gun tighter to his chest.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nancy Fossum held onto her boys tight as she led them through the busy crowd filled with the mixed voices of crying families and confused children; her hand clutching theirs as they stared at the transport ships.

The Barnes family were already there, waiting at the scheduled meeting place as Bucky held his youngest sister, Rebecca, in his arms; chatting heartily to her until she got distracted when seeing Raymond and his family approaching. She jumped in her brother's arms, pointing excitedly over at the boy. "Ray-Ray!"

Raymond grinned when Bucky put his sister down - not before rolling his eyes first as she pushed on his chest to be let down. Once down, the youngest Barnes rushed towards him; arms open wide. Raymond bent down and caught her easily, taking his friend's place in holding the young girl as they walked back over together. "Hey, kiddo! How's my favourite Barnes doing?"

"I'm good! I've been practising my whistling - just like you said! I can do it now, Raymond! I'm really good!"

"Let's hear it then." Raymond smiled, needing to say no more as the Barnes girl immediately went into a song; whistling through her baby teeth proudly. "Look at you! You're like a songbird!"

"She hasn't stopped since you helped teach her." Bucky groans, striding over as Nancy and Dennis happily greeted the other members of his family. "And I hope you know that it has taken numerous hours off of my sleep."

"Why do you think I taught her in the first place?" Raymond chuckled as he felt Rebecca playing with his hat, tilting it to the side as he raised a brow. "That better?"

"You suit it sideways." The girl said, looking at her brother. "Doesn't he, James?"

"As dapper as ever." Bucky smiled, he and Raymond smiling shortly at one another just as their mothers shifted their attention to them.

"Wow, Raymond, don't you look handsome." Mrs Barnes complimented, her and Nancy giggling when the boy took the comment bashfully, mumbling a shy "thank you" in reply.

"You too, James. You both look so grown up." Raymond noticed his mother getting emotional before her eyes even had the chance to gloss over, her hand subconsciously grasping at the gold chain necklace around her neck; the one her husband had given to her on their first wedding anniversary.

"We clean up nicely, don't we?" Bucky smirked, draping an arm over Raymond's shoulder; leaning into him comfortably.

"I'm throwing you straight in the mud when we get there." The Fossum boy deadpanned, the mere thought of his friend covered head-to-toe in mud on his first day when he's supposed to make a good first impression bringing him a spark of excitement that he had never felt so far when thinking of going to war.

"Is that any way to speak to a sergeant, Fossum?" Bucky's tone was challenging as he quirked a brow at his friend, who couldn't look any more amused and unfazed.

"You're no sergeant to me until we get there," Raymond said as he flicked the boy's hat, his friend's nose scrunching up as he did so.

"You - You both are coming back though . . . aren't you?" The innocence in Rebecca Barnes' voice was harrowing to both of the young men as she gazed at them with the eyes of a wet kitten out in the pouring rain. She reminded Raymond of himself when he was too young to understand the concept of people leaving. Even after years, he was still trying to come to its terms - and he doesn't think he ever fully will.

This was the main reason he took tremendous pity on her, his grip around her getting tighter without even knowing. "Of course. Can't leave my favourite Barnes behind for long, can I?"

"Ouch," Bucky commented shortly before refocusing on his sister, taking his friend's place in holding the girl as he bopped her on the nose. "And what annoying big brother would I be if I didn't come back home to hide all your toys and threaten your future boyfriends?"

"What he's trying to say, is that your brother isn't going anywhere; not for long, at least." Winnifred Barnes chipped in, sliding a hand over her son's shoulder as both families gathered around one another. The ship honked in a signal for soon departure, and - if words were not created - nothing could be exchanged verbally that wasn't already being shared through their eyes of crystallised effect. "You - You both better start boarding soon."

Both Raymond and Bucky solemnly nodded, grabbing the little things they had with them as they herded through the crowds of people; keeping their family close until they found the entranceway.

It did not take long for success, although Raymond wouldn't consider it as such when he turned to see the crestfallen look of his mother as she stared between the ship and her son; a sense of deja vu swimming in her irises. ". . . Mum?"

"Sorry. You just . . . look so much like him." Nancy staggered, sniffing deeply as her gloved hand wiped delicately under her eyes; trying to save her makeup from potentially running.

"If only I could be like him too, eh?" Raymond weakly chuckled, looking down at his uniform: the colour just didn't fit him and, in his opinion, neither did what it was suited for.

"Hey, you listen to me, Raymond Miles Fossum." He was taken by surprise when his mother gripped his cheeks firmly, steering his head to look deep into her eyes of a memorial colour; reminding him just how hard this was for her. "You have so much to offer out there in this world. Your father saw it, and so do I. You're a good man, Raymond, and that's more than enough for me and your father. You'll always be our son, no matter what. Just come back home."

"Mum," the words were there, right on his tongue - but he didn't dare say them. He would be a monster to do such a thing, tearing down the walls his mother had spent all her life building like it was a sanctuary.

"In other words, just be yourself and stay alive." Dennis slid in with a smile, his look earnest when his brother turned to him with open arms. He easily slipped into them, each boy holding the other tightly. "I'm going to miss you, doofus."

"You better take care of her," Raymond whispered lowly so only his brother could hear, satisfied and pulling away when he felt him nod against his shoulder. "You're the man of the house until I get back."

"Haven't I always been the man of the house?" Dennis remarks, chuckling when the boy shoved him playfully. "Kidding. I expect you to come back with some cool war stories. Hate to miss out on all the action."

"Oh yeah, I'll come home and spin you a yarn; telling you the mighty tale of when I kicked Adolf Hitler in the nuts," Raymond stated, his words teasing - yet still somehow confident - as he smiled. "Try not to get yourself into too much trouble while I'm gone."

"I'd suggest practising your lecture in the trenches if that's the case then," Dennis advised, keeping his smile grim when someone aboard the ship shouted for soldiers to hurry up and board; time was running short. "You're going to do great . . . wish I was there with you to see it."

"Hey, you're as good as any of these blokes by just staying here and helping Mum," Raymond told him, his words spoken in a tone of voice that was stern yet still brotherly-sounding; pointing a finger at him. "Don't you forget that now; or you'll be the one paying for my therapy when I get back."

"I won't." Dennis solemnly nodded, withholding further words when he felt the vicious bop of emotions clog his throat as he looked astray only to see another man - no older than his early forties - tearfully kissing goodbye to his wife and daughter. It was all too much, and too real.

"Here. Take this." Nancy Fossum passed her eldest son a roll of leather tied together with thin string, allowing him to unwrap it and discover what was inside. His breath got caught in his throat, his irises widening and body chilling to a freeze as he looked at his mother; speechless. "I was going to surprise you with it last night, but now feels like the right time."

"Mum . . ." It was a sincere and kind gesture that Raymond wished he could accept, but his mind fought him otherwise. He shouldn't - he's not worthy. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. Your father spent his last, dying breath with that compass; and he'd want you to have it. I know he would." Nancy tried to convince him, her hand finding a home on his cheek when she saw his uncertainty to take the item. "Take it; so you'll have a piece of him with you."

Raymond looked down at the compass that held such a delicate symbolism that he feared even touching it would break it. It didn't feel right in his hands, and it especially didn't feel right that the person who it belonged to wasn't here either. His thumb delinquently rubbed over the tongue of the object, smiling sadly.

"Raymond," Bucky's voice was layering on stress as he watched soldiers pile onto the ship, the ones remaining on the platform decreasing rapidly. Soon, they would be the only soldiers still to board. "We have to go."

Raymond nodded. He quickly pocketed the compass, bending down to pick up his stuff as he looked at his mum urgently; rushing his words. "I'll try my best, Mum. I promise. I'll make you proud; all of you."

Nancy Fossum smiled tearfully. "You already have."

"Come on!" Grabbing his arm, Bucky pulled Raymond along with him through the crowd; trying not to get separated as they rushed. "If we hurry, we can wave to them on the ship!"

They were let on faster than anticipated - probably because of the rush to get as many men on board as possible. As long as you had your papers and uniform; you were welcome.

It was jam-packed, but the two boys knew it would be something they would adapt to quickly as they barged their way through the herd to the front. Raymond tripped on a few men's feet along the way, earning him some glares. Bucky just glared right back at them, keeping his friend up on his two feet as they soon reached a point where they could see their families.

It was a tight space, but the sight of his mother and little brother waving at him with crystallised eyes made the squeezing of his skin worth it as Raymond and Bucky waved back eagerly to their families.

The Fossum boy's stomach dropped when he felt the ship honk and slide into life; carrying him away from his family. Before he travelled too far and out of hearing distance, Raymond yelled. "I love you!" His eyes travelling to the Barnes family, smiling when he saw the family also waving. "All of you!"

"I'll miss you, Ray-Ray! Bye, James!" Raymond snickered as Bucky rolled his eyes at Rebecca Barnes' shout; laughing afterwards.

"Stay safe! Look after each other!" Nancy now had to cup her hands around her mouth as the ship began to carry itself further into the water; her pale dress flowing by her legs lightly.

"We will!" Bucky assured the mother, Raymond nodding along with him.

The ship was now fully out of the dock, their loved ones becoming smaller and smaller until their figures became nothing but a blur to the soldiers as they watched a sea of people waving and shouting.

Raymond's lips fell limp when he was sure his face couldn't be seen, staring at his home, his childhood, with a disconsolate smile. Oh, how bittersweet this all felt to him.

"Goodbye, Brooklyn." Raymond softly spoke, being the last one to walk away from the front of the ship, finding a place to sit down as he sighed; hearing the waves crash below as it carried him away from his home before his very eyes. ". . . Hopefully I'll see you soon."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He was sound asleep when they arrived, his shoulder collecting a patch of drool. Only when Raymond heard someone calling out to him in a rough voice did he stir and realise the ship was no longer moving, his cheek mushed against his shoulder. Bucky was sleeping peacefully next to him, also being disturbed by the noise. Both of them woke with a start as they sat up in their seats, wildly looking around; lost.

A man was standing before them, sporting one of the most distinctive moustache's Raymond has ever seen on his face. His eyes were bright when he smiled at the two sleepers. "We're here, boys! No more nap time!"

Raymond groaned, the same dread of when he had to wake up for school filling his stomach as he collected his stuff with a yawn.

Bucky watched him with a smile, nudging his side gently to gain his attention. "Ready for duty, soldier?"

"You're pushing your luck, Bucket," Raymond warned with a pointed look, seeing his friend smirk. Just as he was about to walk towards the exit of the ship, Raymond stopped. "Oh sorry," he spun round in his heels, shooting a wink at the confused boy. "I mean . . . Sergeant." And, with one last salute, he turned back and walked away.

He shuffled his way through to the ends of the ship, seeing Bucky following not far behind as sunlight reached their eyes; beaming down on them as they stepped off onto the new dock.

They were like a flock of sheep, being gathered by the sheepdog to their pens as people came to collect them; their voices thunderous that most likely was the case of a deadline as they ushered them forwards.

Raymond attempts to count the number of men on this journey with him. But with so many heads bobbing up and down, he eventually gives up. He doesn't even know if this is the only ship to arrive today.

With every step he took, he felt less and less himself. He could hear men engaging in conversation around him, others responding with words of encouragement, trying to turn fear into hope. Raymond didn't bother, pretending not to hear those around him as they walked.

He made sure to keep a close eye on Bucky though, his friend being not far behind every time he looked. Their eyes met a few times, Raymond always being the first to look away in case Bucky unwittingly gave him his "pity eyes". As much as it came from a good place, Raymond wasn't in the mood for people feeling sorry for him; especially Bucky.

He studies the broad-chested men who approach them, clad in a uniform similar to his father's. Under any given circumstances, Raymond might've admired the familiar tailoring, the fineness of the cloth, the sharpness of the cut. Unfortunately, now was no time to get nostalgic.

Before the men spoke, the Fossum boy made sure he made most of what he had while still being a semi-free man, a soldier with no orders. He looked to the heavens, breathes in the fresh, cool air, and reminds himself to take in the clear skies while he got to see them peacefully.

"Move!" Barks one of the officers to the gather of men, his fellow companions trapping them to a circle-like shape (like sheep) so no one would run - just in case.

They followed the easy orders, trudging towards the looming campsite which Raymond can only guess will be their home for lord knows how long. The worst thing is, the young boy knows this is probably the best place to be out here. No one wants to be on the front lines during this war.

Trees line their entrance, flush with new spring growth. As Raymond walks with the men, he realised that he had no idea where he would even be stationed while fighting.

Immediately, his eyes drew back to Bucky, wondering if they would be as lucky as they were while training in Wisconsin and not be separated. He knew the odds were slim, but his father taught him to never believe anything is impossible in war.

From a distance, Raymond could see other soldiers. Some were in better shape than others, which made most men that had just arrived understandably anxious about what lay ahead.

"Gentlemen, my name is Lieutenant Morris. While Colonel Philips is away, you will be taking orders from me." His words were as tough as the firey expression he wore as the lieutenant scanned the rows of men deemed fit for fighting. "General George S. Payton is a wise man, one who once said that wars are fought with weapons, but are won by men - which is a statement I fully agree with."

"Your job here today is not to die for your country, but to make sure that those bastards die for theirs." Some soldiers made sounds of agreement, nudging each other with snickers. Raymond resisted the urge to roll his eyes; knowing his father wouldn't approve. "Now, gentleman, you are all here for a reason; to win, or die trying. The only thing I order you to fear is fear itself."

Raymond focused all his energy on keeping his face mutual so that his disagreement was not given away as the man continued.

"We, the 107th, are a regiment of the New York Army National Guard. That is something I take very seriously, as should you all." Lieutenant Morris glared at anyone with even a hint of a smile, snatching it away from their cocky hands. "From now on, you guys are brothers. Your training has prepared you for this. Remember, stick together and make the most of whatever situation might arise. Depend on each other, for you can't survive out there by yourself."

Raymond felt a wave of dread wash over him. He didn't trust these men. He'd like to say he did, but he knew he didn't - not with his life. There were only two people Raymond Fossum would trust with his life, and only one of them is standing with him right now.

His eyes avert to Bucky, only to see him staring at Lieutenant Morris with a straight face. He was thinking. Whatever about, Raymond couldn't tell you. It was like a silent movie was playing behind his irises of blue oceans, keeping him distracted while their lieutenant went on.

"I want all of you to think smart; always. If all of you knuckleheads think alike, then someone isn't thinking."

"What else is new?" Raymond scoffed under his breath, his eyes widening in fear when he realised that he had said his words aloud. His body froze, back straightening up in hopes that no one heard. Sadly, soldiers were taught to always have a keen ear.

Lieutenant Morris stopped his pacing back and forth between the rows of men, twisting around until he was facing the front of the pack. It wasn't hard for him to pinpoint the man who had spoken; his dirty nose scrunching up as he nodded. "What's your name, son?"

Swallowing the bile he felt collecting in his throat, Raymond tried his best to keep a steady voice. "Fossum, Raymond. Shipped out from Brooklyn."

Morris' head tilted at the familiarity of the name, eyebrows furrowing. "Fossum?"

"Larry Fossum was my father, sir." Raymond curtly nodded. He knew his father was a well-respected man during his service . . . more people than he'd like to admit had told him so at his funeral.

"Huh. Larry's boy." Lieutenant Morris stated, scanning him up and down like he was assessing him for a grade. Raymond didn't like the way the side of his nose scrunched up afterwards, but he didn't say anything. "Well then, let's hope you've got half the guts your old man did."

Well then, prepare to be disappointed. The boy thought in return, keeping it to himself as Morris eventually walked away from him; a small breath escaping his lips. He noticed Bucky's shoulders relaxed also.

"Here, your name might as well not exist." Lieutenant Morris addressed to the men, his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he resumed his rigid pacing. "It won't get you anywhere, your deeds will." He stopped suddenly, twisting on his foot like he had done when he first heard Raymond. He eyed them like a hawk looking for prey, narrowing his gaze at the Fossum boy before he announced. "You'll follow my second lieutenant, Charles, to where you'll all be staying in base. You'll split up into groups. All sergeants are to follow me."

Lieutenant Morris walked away without another word, men willingly trailing behind him as the other lieutenant, Charles, shouted everyone over.

Raymond and Bucky met eyes, the latter giving him a smile of reassurance as he followed after Morris; their shoulders brushing as he passed.

Raymond watched him until he could no more, seeing the last of Bucky's shirt disappear when he looked over his shoulder as he followed the remaining men; feeling squashed and crowded against the burly men who chatted amongst themselves like they were taking a trip down to the beach.

Tents. They would sleep in tents tonight. It looked like no more than four could fit in each - and even that would be a stretch given the tight space. It was nothing like a homely bed, and it never would be for however long.

Charles explained his words once, and once only. He was not a man of repetition and made sure he had everyone's attention as he read off names; assigning each of them a tent to share that would most likely not be theirs for much longer.

Raymond sighed and trudged his way along when he heard his name. The group soon grew smaller, until only a gather of men were left around the tent he was assigned to; meaning they most likely were all in the same squad or platoon of sorts.

"Guess this is us." A gruff voice chortled beside the trip-faced boy, gaining his attention as he turned to see the same man who had woke him and Bucky up on the ship earlier beside him. He happily walked into the tent, setting down his belongings with a sigh of content before noticing that the soldier hadn't moved from his stance. "Well, don't just stand there. Come in. Didn't your mother ever teach you that it's rude to stare?"

"Right. Sorry, it's just that I recognised you from the train." The boy excused, his manners kicking in. "I'm Raymond, sir. Raymond Fossum."

"Aye, I know. I knew your father. A good man he was, taught me almost everything I know." The man nodded steadily, eyes sad with a charitable glint. "Was devastated when I heard of his passing."

"He died doing what he loved." And, once again, Raymond said those six words. His mother - already knowing of her eldest son's clear dislike towards her husband's job - taught him to say that to people who talked to him about his father when he first passed; understanding that Raymond himself would never say such a thing if not prompted.

The moustache man smiled sadly. "The name's Timothy Alloysius Cadwaller Dugan."

"Yeah, but most people just call him Dum Dum Dugan around here." A new voice came to arise from the tent, a man of dark skin stepping in with a toothy smile.

"That's Corporal Dugan to you." Dum Dum pointed a stern yet clearly teasing smile; narrowing his eyes at the soldier.

Ignoring the comment, the unfamiliar face stepped towards Raymond; his hand outstretched. "Gabe Jones."

"Raymond Fos -"

"Fossum. Yeah, I know. Not even been a full day here, and you're already famous. You're lucky Lieutenant Morris took it easy on you because it's your first day." Gabe commented, smirking as they shook hands briefly.

"That's because it won't be long before he blows up like his dad." Yet again, another voice - this one a lot less welcoming than the last two - came from the tent entrance. He could be no older than Raymond or Gabe but looked ten years older with his towering height and bulging muscles that looked more like raw chicken stuck to his skin than muscles.

The Fossum boy straightened up, his blue eyes darting dangerously to the boy. No one spoke, not even Gabe or Dum Dum; most likely because they were still channelling the words - not believing someone could say such a horrid thing in the first place.

"Your dad," Unafraid, the man continued. He swaggered towards him with a sausage finger aimed at him. It prodded Raymond's chest, purposely digging into his clothes. "murdered those men back in that camp."

Raymond then understood, and his blood boiled heatedly. He had heard the taunt before - more times than he'd care for - but, things were different then. He was home, he had his mum to always hold him back and ground him; assuring him that people like that weren't worth his time - or his father's.

Now, he didn't have that. But, Raymond allowed a steady, cool breath to leave him - just like his mother had taught him - and answered in a monotone manner. "It was an unexpected attack. It could've happened to anyone."

"Not the way I see it." The man didn't yield, seething through a hoarse whisper as he shook his head; his lips twisting uglily. "He killed those people who were manipulated into thinking they were safe."

"My father's not a killer, and he certainly didn't manipulate anyone either." Raymond didn't bite. He refused. His mother's words rang like an echo through his head. He was better than this, He was better than this.

"Bullshit!" The man's abrupt curse was followed by his palms slamming against Raymond's belongings harshly, causing some things to clatter to the floor; his father's compass included.

"Alright you two, settle down," Dugan spoke warningly to the pair when he noticed things were growing more tense, trying to defuse the situation discreetly so no one took notice and possibly alerted Morris.

Raymond stared down at the thrown items, his face void of any emotion whatsoever. Dugan and Jones watched him carefully when he finally moved, bending down slowly to collect only one item; a compass Dum Dum recalled him clutching onto for dear life when he fell asleep on the ship next to his friend.

The base was covered by its cover thankfully, meaning the chances of it being smashed were slim at best. Just to be sure, Raymond took a look for himself. It was reassuringly unmarked, a bit scratched from its previous use, but still unmarked nonetheless. Its floating dial wavered and shook, disturbed from the fall; but that was thankfully the only disturbance Raymond found.

Once checking it was in neat condition, and thankfully not broken, Raymond Fossum then bawled his hand into a fist, pulled it back, and punched the man harshly in the face.

He heard Gabe and Dum Dum's protests as the man recovered from the boy's hit to throw one of his own. He seized Raymond by the forearms, causing him to push back to fight him off. They stumbled out of the tent, falling to the ground together with a loud thud that alerted the others.

Neither one cared about the crowd and shouts forming as Raymond managed to clamber on top of him and nail another punch, only to receive a harsh hit to his eye that knocked him far enough for the other man to gain the advantage and push him off.

"Raymond, leave it!"
"Get him, Richard!"
"Knock him out!"
"Stop it!"

Raymond was sure he would be spitting up blood soon as their breaths both grew hot and heavy, their faces already bruised and red-stained. Once again, the shouts and crowd went ignored by them as they lunged for each other.

The fight continued, and no one intercepted. They were like animals putting on a show - which, in some ways, was probably true. The soldiers hadn't had a good source of entertainment in however long, so this must've been like an early Christmas present.

Their clothes were wrinkled beyond ironing, the dirt of the ground dusting their faces as they kicked and punched. Truthfully, they both didn't know when enough would be enough. Both boys were blinded by their own rage. For all they knew, they could beat the other to a pulp and send them to the med wing for a solid week on their first half day without batting an eye until it was over.

Raymond heaved when a harsh kick was sent into his stomach, causing him to double over and get punched in the cheek. He fell to the ground, his body screaming at him to stay there.

"You won't last one day out there, Possum!" Richard shouts, now standing above him as he smirks. "Make sure to say hi to daddy for me when you get there."

Wincing "oohs" suddenly left the sea of people, a harsh thud and grunt being heard; followed by Richard squawking a groan as he fell to the ground beside Raymond.

Bucky Barnes stood above him, glaring daggers as he wiped his hands down on his uniform. His blue eyes danced along with the now-silent crowd. "Anyone else?" He asked, thudding footsteps approaching from behind him as Lieutenant Morris and Charles ran up to the scene.

"What the hell is going on here?" Morris demanded in a shout from the crowd, noticing the misplaced soldiers. "Are you daft? Get back to your positions! Now!" He roared, the men scampering off like a cat caught looking for scraps.

Bucky bent down beside his friend as soon as he could, gently tugging his forearm and offering a sad smile of compassion when he heard him mewl in lingering pain. "I thought getting beat up by punks was Steve's thing."

Raymond only sighed, cowering when it caused his kicked stomach to zap him with a sting of pain. He let his friend help him back to his two feet, watching him frown as he held onto him steadily in case he fell or doubled over again.

Lieutenant Morris then connected the two dots - not that it took long. There were only two people who looked like they had been to hell and back. "For god's sake, you've barely stepped foot in this war, and you're already trying to kill each other! You haven't even gotten out on the field yet!" The two boys said nothing, their heads bowed and tongues bit; knowing silence was the safer option right now. "I should have you boys sent out with my guys going out on the field tomorrow! See how you fair then."

Raymond felt Bucky tense beside him, his hold tightening around his arm as the lieutenant's gaze swept between the two bruised men, heaving a sigh with his hands firmly planted on his hips afterwards. "Fortunately for you, I'm not going to." The minute he saw Richard's shoulder slag in relief, he got tough again. "But don't think you're off the hook! I want you both running laps first things tomorrow during breakfast. If you're quick enough, there may be something left for you."

"But sir -"

"That's an order!" Morris' voice boomed through camp as he turned on his heels and strode away.

Charles hesitated in a moment of thought. Before following him, he nodded in direction to Raymond and Richard, speaking to the two sergeants closest. "Take them to the shacks. Throw those clothes away and get them some new ones." Bucky and the other sergeant nodded, steering the respective boy away in opposite directions.

"The shack?" Raymond quizzed, eyebrows furrowed as he limped through the base, already feeling the eyes watching him as they passed. This wasn't how he wanted to spend his first day.

"It's more of a supply closet." Bucky shrugged, his tone surprisingly flat as they soon reached the small, wooden-built shack; the Barnes boy opening the door for him. "Just don't touch anything other than the clothes - or else we'll both be in deep shit."

"Are you mad at me?" Raymond wondered, his eyebrows furrowing at his friend's tone and facial expressions.

Bucky bit his cheek, looking down at the ground before sighing through his nose and looking back up. "I left you for at least five minutes, and you're already causing trouble and picking fights."

"I didn't start it," Raymond stated, rolling his eyes when his friend crossed his arms over his chest with an unconvinced look; leaning against the doorway. "He was asking for it."

"I bet he was, but we're not in Brooklyn anymore, Ray. There are consequences this time; consequences I don't want you, nor I to face." Bucky's look was stern as he addressed the boy, shaking his head earnestly afterwards.

"I know. It's not like I meant to hit him. Well, I did, but I tried not to at first." Raymond's comeback came in a mumble, his gaze boring into the solid ground. "Bastard almost broke my dad's compass."

Bucky's face soon fell in realisation, his lips parting sadly. "He didn't," his words of question trailed off when he saw his friend loosely nod in reply, his frown deepening. "I'm sorry, Raymond."

"Not the first time. Just lost my cool." The Fossum just shrugged, silent for a time before enunciating again. "Don't tell my mum. She'll be crossing the borders to give me a talking to if she finds out"

Bucky released a feathery laugh, shaking his head at his friend's natural worry for his mother's reaction. "I won't." He promised, noticing the boy wincing as he moved around the shack; just managing to slip on a new pair of trousers. "Need a hand?"

"What am I? Five years old?" Raymond mumbled through a scoff, turning his back when he felt the sudden urge to wince. He sucked air in through his teeth, eyes squeezing shut at the decently loud noise that could be heard between them both. "Don't even think about it."

"Raymond."

"James."

"Just shut up and let me help you! It's not like we haven't seen each other shirtless before!" The said boy threw his head back with a groan at his stubbornness, marching forwards anyways.

Raymond huffed but didn't oppose when Bucky came closer and helped him lift his muddied shirt until it was fully off of his skin.

The Barnes boy beamed a little when he heard Raymond's dog tags clink against one another against his chest when his head sprung free of his shirt; the metal now freely exposed and hung around his neck. "Nice tags."

"They look exactly like yours," Raymond noted, the corners of his lips lifting at the compliment in a private bashfulness as he reached for the spare shirt.

"First time I've seen them on you," Barnes explained in a modest tone and shrug, nodding in conformation. "You suit them."

"Would be pretty unfortunate if I didn't." Raymond giggled, wincing as he did when it caused another wave of pain. "Goddammit. He didn't have to kick me that hard."

"By the looks of things, he's got more bruises to look forward to than you do," Bucky observed, letting his friend get his shirt on by himself when he sent him a look to let him do so.

Grabbing his new shirt, Raymond pulled it over his head; small sounds of discomfort leaving him as he did so. However, as the bottom hem reached his midsection, he struggled to get his head through the opening at the top. His arms were screaming from being lifted, only making him more frustrated and move more - resulting in even more irritation.

He halted when he felt a steady hand brush his bare skin, pulling the article of clothing down over his torso. When his head pulled through the hole finally, he met eyes with Bucky; who gave him a kind smile. "You all set?"

"Y - Yeah." Raymond flushed, noticing how close their faces were in the darkness of the shack as he nodded stiffly. "Thanks."

"What are friends for." Bucky shrugged, walking out of the shack with him and closing the door soon after. "Let's just get some sleep; you've got laps to run tomorrow."

"I'd do double if it means I could punch that guy again," Raymond swore through the grits of his teeth, grumbling the words that he thought his friend wouldn't hear.

Surprisingly, Bucky did hear. He spun them round to face one another as they grew closer to the tents; most soldiers already slumped in their knapsacks.

"Hey," When Raymond didn't look at him, Bucky's hand travelled to the nape of his neck to get him to properly look up. His friends stared blankly back, fighting back a frown. "He's just some jerk that's trying to get a rise out of you. Don't let him."

"Why's it always me?" Raymond groans with his head thrown back, sounding like a tired child being roused for school as he slouches in stance.

"Because you're not a jerk, Raymond. Like Steve, you're a good person who's going to do more than these jerks ever will." When the praised boy didn't reply, instead looking uncertain, his friend patted his shoulder once more; being mindful of his growing bruises "Come on, let's get some rest."

"Where are you sleeping?" The Fossum boy questioned, realising that Bucky was heading in the direction of his tent.

"Coincidentally, in the same tent as you." Bucky smiled at him over his shoulder, the two peering into their tent only to see Gabe and Dum Dum already fast asleep; snores slipping past their parted mouths. "Didn't take long for them to get to sleep."

"Must be the training." Raymond shrugged, he and his friend trading a short look. "You know, learning the value of sleep and all that."

"Let's hope the same goes for us." Bucky smiles, taking the opportunity to ruffle his friend's hair. "Goodnight, Ray."

Raymond rolled his eyes, smiling nevertheless; knowing the next two words he had sworn to always say back since they were little kids running wildly around the streets of Brooklyn as boys free of worry and responsibilities.

For the first time since his arrival, Raymond allowed himself to smile. "Night, Bucket."

: : ❛ 𝓐𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍 𝓝𝙊𝙏𝙀 ❜ : :
╰───╮; should i start this author note letting you know that i shut down when sebastian stan and taron egerton interacted and now follow one another on instagram? no, but am i doing it anyway? absolutely!

well, here it is, folks! the third chapter!
so thankful that you're sticking around.

we're moving onto war territory here, so prepare yourself for some historically inaccurate information! there was a disclaimer at the beginning of the book, but i feel like you guys deserve a double heads up given how bad this will most likely turn out.

ngl, this is the bit i'm fearing the most to write for. they should've given bucky more scenes in captain america: the first avenger and i will defend that statement forever.

if you have any issues with incorrect information, please know that i am trying my best! this is fanfiction, people! if you want accuracy, you can take it up with the russo brothers themselves.
( jk. love you all, please don't kill me )

thanks for reading!
love you all!

∴ ✪ ❱ · TRGDYCOILS !! ━━━━
( 8k words )