I'm with you... {completed}

4)1942

          Bucky didn't want to go to war. He didn't care about serving his country or doing the right thing. He cared about keeping Steve safe and he cared about having a long life where he could be happy.
Steve on the other hand...
     "It's stupid! The posters say they need every able bodied man! Why won't they just take me?"
     "Maybe it's 'cause your not able bodied," mumbles the voice laying in the bed.
     Steve glowered at Bucky.
    "Common Stevie this is good! You can stay home and stay safe! Now we have one less chance of one of us dieing for this stupid war!"
     "Look, I know you don't think I can do this-"
     "This isn't a back alley fight, Steve. It's a war!" Bucky sat up and looked Steve in the eyes, cutting the other man off before he could really get into his rant.
     "I know it's a war! You don't have to tell me."
     "Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs."
    "What am I gonna do?" He shouted across the room, "Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?!"
     "Yes! Exactly! Stay home where you'll be safe! Where I can protect you! There's other ways to help, Steve!"
     "I'm not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky."
    Bucky groaned knowing this fight was going no where. He dropped his face into his hands.
     "Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them."
     Bucky gave no response.
"Bucks?"
Nothing.
"Buck, c'mon."
    He lowered his head further into his hands and remained silent.
    "Bucky, please look at me." Steve walked to where Bucky sat on the bed and reached to pull Bucky's hands away from his face. He held the older boys hands in his own in an attempt to see Bucky's face, but this only caused him to hand his head lower. He didn't want to hurt Bucky, he loved him. I love him... shit. He'd been trying to avoid these feelings as much as he could.
    "I'm sorry. I'll stop. Please. Bucky I'm sorry."
I love you, his brain finished for him. Bucky stared down and ran his thumb back and forth across Steve's hand, stroking him gently. Just tell him. He feels the same way! Steve's mind screamed at him.
     "I love you."
     Bucky lifted his head. They hadn't talked about what happened after Sarah passed since that night. Even after the funeral, when they held each other in tears beside a meager gravestone. For five years they pretended they were okay. Bucky dated girls and Steve used his various ailments as a reason to avoid dating. They had almost convinced themselves that the night never happened.
      Bucky held eye contact with the open ocean eyes in front of him. He lifted the smaller hand that was holding his own slowly, as though he were interacting with a scared animal. He lifted Steves hands until they were level with his face Bucky lowered his lips and tenderly kissed Steve's knuckles.
     "I love you too..." He pulled Steve closer on to the bed they shared so they were sitting with their sides pressed together. He smiled contently before a wave fearful regret hit him; "...punk," he amended.
     "Jerk." Steve grinned. He scooted closer and hugged Bucky from behind, pressing his face into the brunette's back. Bucky nuzzled back into the embrace while he held Steve's arms around himself. His breathing grew short. And he forced himself to not cry. This was not okay. Steve deserved better. They sat there for a long while calming themselves and not knowing what to do next.
      Steve thought of the last few years together in their apartment. He thought of the laughter and the smiles. He thought of the nights when they both came home stupidly drunk. He thought of the way Bucky had kissed him on one of those nights, nearly a year after Sarah passed, and how in love he felt. He thought of the pain the next day when Bucky claimed to not remember anything from the night before. He knew deep down that that couldn't have been completely true, Steve had seen him drink more and still remember everything, but he didn't question it. He thought of the nights when Bucky would try to teach him to dance in their tiny room, playing the one Glenn Miller record he owned on repeat. He thought of the nights he'd leave the house, nights when Bucky was going on dates and he managed not to get dragged along. He'd leave, not wanting to stay in the empty apartment alone, and sneak off to the quiet halls and sleazy mob-owned bars in Manhattan. And if he didn't back until 3am, slightly drunk and dazed with contentment, it wouldn't matter because he'd still be home long before Bucky ever was.
      Bucky didn't want to think about how inlove with Steve he was. He tried to think of anyway he could diffuse the situation without letting Steve know the depth of his love for him. He loved Steve. But Steve deserved better. He didn't deserve to be dragged down by Bucky's confusion with his feelings. He just wanted Steve to be normal. And he didn't want to have to feel whatever he was feeling right now. He wanted to just be like how they used to be. Happy and always messing around, joking and play fighting till Steve started wheezing.
     A stupid idea came to Bucky making him grin evilly. He slowly adjusted, then suddenly he dropped all his weight backward as he flopped against the bed on top of Steve's small flailing body, surprising the boy trapped underneath him, to say the least.
    "Gehh auhh ofhh muh buhe!" Yelled the muffled voice beneath Bucky.
   "What was that? I can't quite hear ya?" Bucky teased. Steve pushed Bucky up just enough to be able to speak.
    "I said: Get off!"
     "But it's so comfy right here!" Bucky fake whined and slumped back down, pressing Steve back down. Steve squirmed underneath until he fit his face almost out from under Bucky's back.
    "Bucky! Get your fat ass off of me!" he yelled.
"Steven Rogers! Did you just call my ass fat?!" Bucky questioned in mock outrage, as he sat up and turned so he face the offender.
    Steve tried not to blush as he stuttered, slipping into his strong Brooklyn accent, "N-no! 'Course not! Yer just hearing things! Clearly I said 'get your fast sass off'. Pftt." He chuckled a smile, "I think your loosin' your hearing Buck. Or maybe just going crazy." He mock-whispered with fake sincerity.
    "Crazy for you," Bucky flirted, moving his body toward the already flustered boy next to him. So much for diffusing the situation.
     "Shadup," Steve huffed. Does he know what he's doing to me when he makes these dumb jokes?! Gah!
    "Make me," he quipped back.
    Steve cocked his eyebrow. He looked into Bucky's eyes trying to read what he had meant by that. Bucky stared back, daring Steve to do something. Neither realized that they had been moving closer until Bucky felt Steve's uneven breath on his face. Bucky's eyes widened.  Steve stared at the beautiful doe eyed boy in front if him. Bucky glanced down at Steve's lips and dragged his own bottom lip between his teeth, then quickly looked back up to the eyes still staring at him. Steve's eyes projected a thousand emotions a second. And by that scale Bucky's played a million.
      Overwhelmed with a sudden burst of confidence that he knew would disappear if he didn't act on it immediately, Steve's pushed himself forward before he could think about the consequences. He missed his goal of Bucky's lips, he always lost his aim when he was nervous, and ended up dropping a quick kiss on the side of his mouth. That was all it took to tell Bucky's nonfunctional brain that yes, he should kiss the boy he loved right now. The thought was turned into action at lightning speed as he kissed Steve fully and pressed himself against Steve. They started to drop back into the bed and the every playful fight for dominance began. Kissing hastily so as to keep the logical parts of their brains from telling them to stop, they pressed back and forth. Hands in each other's hair and running fingers under each others shirts. It felt like they could finally have what they had both secretly been wanting. But this was 1942 and no perfect couple was going to stop the war from happening.
At least not from a dingy apartment in New York.