THE AMERICAN DREAM

1.18 ▫︎ APRIL, 1934 ↦ STEVE

1.18 ▫︎ APRIL, 1934 ↦ STEVE

"There is sitll time for me to get you a date, Steve. Just give me a yes," Bucky promised as he brushed off Steve's coat. "But you've gotta stop getting into fights in random alleyways."

Steve huffed, wiping the blood off his lip. "He was bothering someone. I couldnt just let it happen."

Bucky sighed. "Did you ever think that other people's inconveniences might not be your business?" he asked, slapping his back as they left the alley. "Youre not a hero, youre a little shit."

"Not once," Steve answered cockily.

"You know, you little punk, I'm not always gonna be here to finish all the little feuds you get in," Bucky told him as they entered a diner.

"What is that supposed to mean? You're an old man or something? You dying soon?" Steve asked him as he gave the clerk money for two sodas.

"A year older than you, pal," Bucky told him. The seventeen year old grabbed his back painfully. "I get out the bed every morning and I swear it goes 'snap, crackle, pop'," he joked.

"Bucky," Steve laughed.

"No," Bucky continued, beginning to laugh. "You see, I get these knee pains and I'm pretty sure I can feel my teeth rotting out!"

"Stop it," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "You're full of it."

Bucky shrugged. "For someone who gets in fights three times a week, you are not much fun."

Steve nodded. "I like to think that I take life seriously."

"So you want to dance?" Bucky asked. "That's an important part of life. I could get Maggie to go with you. Sandy doesn't have a date. Please, Steve, you won't regret it!"

Steve just rolled his eyes. "She'll just leave anyway to be with someone else. I think I'll just help take the photographs."

Bucky sighed, downing his drink. "Won't you calm down with the cola?" Steve asked.

"I've got a match tonight," Bucky said, slamming the bottle down on the table. "I'm kinda nervous."

"It's not just a match. It'll be your third consecutive championship," Steve pressed, tipping his drink to him. He knew how to make Bucky stressed. Just make the issue more important and the community favorite will become a sweating mess.

Now sure. That seems mean. But turns out, the more stressed Bucky is, the more likely he's going to succeed. And once he does, all the stress goes away. So that's a win.

"Thanks Steve," Bucky said sarcastically, trying to play it off cool.

"No problem," was all he said as he gave him a sort of look, as if he was waiting for him to fess up. Bucky's lips drew a fine line and he leaned back in his seat, accepting the challenge of remaining calm. They both stared daggers into each other's eyes. That was until:

"Okay, but what if I lose? How embarrassing would that be? I'm a senior right now. This could very well be my last box ever. It will be my last box at the YMCA. If I lose this one, will it hurt my chances in getting into a match for fun when I have time. The extra money is always-"

"Bucky!" interrupted Steve. "We met to..."

"Goof around? Let's go to the gym," Bucky brushed off, trying to change the subject.

"No. Get dinner," Steve corrected.

"Look, Steve. I am beginning to think we dont have time for that. You've got the dance tonight. I've got the match." he stopped himself. "I guess we do have important things to all about."