I'm with you... {completed}

1) 1929-1935

      Though most would guess it'd be the other way around, Steve was always the more 'macho' one of the two- never shedding a tear, never backing down from a fight, never allowing people to get away with bullshit. A real man's man by his own 1930s standard. He had a small BB gun that his father had left him which he used to shoot squirrels and sell them in the park, 15 cents each or 3 for 45 cents (not a lot of people were great at math during the Depression).
     Now Bucky on the other hand, allowed himself the space for emotions. Of course he was able to get away with the occasional display of weakness because he could easily take on anyone that dared taunt him. Or his best friend for that matter.
     Once, while on their daily walk home from school, Steve heard a quiet whine echoing down an alleyway.
     "Come on, Stevie we're gunna be late for supper! Let's go!" Bucky complained when Steve insisted that they look for the source. Steve, of course, ignored his friend's protests, walking down further into the dark alley, leaving Bucky sighing and feeling resigned, to follow his lead.
Of course Bucky's mentality changed when he saw the small kitten that had been abandoned in the garbage. Scrawny, starving, beat up, and likely dieing, Bucky felt his heart lurch for the cat. Steve immediately regretted making Bucky go down the alley. He knew Bucky wasn't going to let this go- he was a sucker for anything cute and furry. He'd even made Steve quit his squirrel selling business cause he couldn't stand seeing the fluffy rodents hanging dead by their tails (didn't help that his allergies would act up when he carried the dead things, too.)
     "Oh come on Buck! There's nothing we can do for it just leave it!" Steve argued when Bucky decided that they should adopt the mangy feline.
     "Please. Look at 'em. He needs a family. Please Stevey. Pleaaaaseeeeee-"
     "Fine!" Steve relented, "but yer gunna hafta wash that thing before showing it to yer ma or she'll never let'cha keep it."
     "Oh thank you!" Bucky hugged him tight.
"Alright, alright, shove off you big softie." Bucky careful picked up the kitten and cradled in in his arms.
    "I love ya Stevie, yer tha cat's meow," he held the kitten up and used a high-pitched voice. Steve groaned, but secretly wanted to laugh at his friends lame joke.
     And that's how 3 months into their friendship Steve and Bucky became fathers to a get and black tomcat aptly named Kitty.

Over the next few months of their friendship, the boys became inseparable. Of course, anyone with two eyes and half a brain could see that they had been that way since that second week of their acquaintanceship. By the end of that first summer nothing could come between Steve and his Bucky. They slept over at each others houses so often that Sarah and Winifred stopped bothering to ask where their sons were knowing they would show up by supper the next night. After one year it seemed they had known each other their whole lives.
When school started up again that September, Bucky and Steve were ecstatic to find out that they would be in the same class (this, of course was seen to by Winifred and Sarah who had agreed that Steve was a good influence on Bucky and Bucky kept Steve from getting into too many fights of his own). Teachers would tell you the conjoined twins were more easily separated that the two boys. And so when Steve was being bullied on the field at snack time, Bucky inevitably found himself at Steve's side, fighting back against the teenage tormentors.
"Shit." Steve laid unmoving beside Bucky after the pair had their asses handed to them by the pair of bullies. In retrospect, it may not have been the wisest idea to throw rocks at someone twice his size, but there was no way Bucky was gunna let those blunderbusses get away with hurting his Stevie.
"Stevie? Shit. Shit shit shit!" He kneeled down on the grass beside Steve. His face was covered in cuts and scrapes, his arms and torso in bright purple bruises.
"Damn it, Stevie answer me damn it!"
"Lord Bucket," he complained at the boy yelling in his ear, "ya kiss yer mother with that mouth?" Letting out a relived laugh, Bucky helped his friend up.
"God ya scared me good there, Stevie. I thought you's dead."
"Can't get 'ridda me that easy, bud." They shared a smile before Bucky half lead, half carried the bloodied boy to his apartment deciding that it wouldn't hurt to miss one day of lessons. 
After laying Steve on the sofa, Bucky headed to the bathroom for the first aid kit, already familiar with it location in Steve's apartment (above the sink counter in the upper left hand corner of the cabinet).
"Thanks for th-ow!" Steve was cut off mid thank-you as Bucky dabbed a rag dipped in alcohol onto the cut across Steve's eyebrow.
"Why'd ya gotta go and get hurt like this dummy? That ones gunna leave a mark. Now yer gunna have a big ol' scar across yer pretty face." Bucky chastised. Steve hated it when Bucky babied him, but he was glad to have someone to help patch him up all the same. When he finished cleaning the wound, he covered it with a bandaid hopping to stop the gash from getting infected. Steve crossed his arms, annoyed with the babying and decidedly pouting.
"It still hurts." He grumped.
"What, ya want me to kiss it better?" Bucky taunted half joking.
"Yes," the stubborn kid replied cockily knowing Bucky would do anything he asked.
"Fine, chucklehead. I will." Being careful not to mess up the fine doctoring he had just completed, Bucky leaned over and kissed Steve's wound.
"All better."