Do Pick Up Strangers

Getting By

It was raining, as per usual in Oregon. James Barnes, Bucky, licked his lips as the water hit his face and rolled down his neck. He was standing in a vulnerable spot: a clearing just big enough for a little town, surrounded by trees and foliage. Bucky enjoyed the rain. He liked to feel it. He wasn't too fond of living in only one season. Only feeling the heat or cold all year long would be miserable, he thought. He'd always preferred change, anyway. There's something nice, and natural, about it. It's necessary for life to grow and prosper, so why are people so afraid of it? Being scared of the inevitable is so... distracting from the important things in one's life. A low voice interrupted Bucky's thoughts.

"James? You're getting soaked. Get in here", an older man behind Bucky said. Only friends called him Bucky. He smiled as the man shook his head like he just watched his dog step in mud.

"Thanks, sir", Bucky entered the man's store and gently shook his wet, dark hair over the mat.

"And quit calling me that bullshit. It's Phil", he said grumpily. Bucky laughed kindly. Phil was a nice man but sure had a rough time showing it. He was protecting his masculinity and power, perhaps. Bucky met Phil whilst trying to shoplift a granola bar from his store. He'd been caught, and Phil made him clean the floors for the night in exchange for avoiding the cops being called. Bucky had a sneaking suspicion that Phil never would've called the police anyway, but he was an honest man and did what was asked. Before he left that night, Phil learned that he didn't have a place to stay nor money for food. It wasn't particularly that hard to tell; Bucky wasn't in great shape when they met. He'd been dumped in Oregon, with nothing, by a friend he'd been staying with. Some friend. The only reason he'd survived the past couple of months was Phil allowing him to work for money and food. Bucky noticed pictures of Phil with a man about his age. He thought that maybe it was Phil's passed son and he was taking care of him like he did his son, but he didn't dare ask. He was grateful and didn't want to upset Phil or push any boundaries.

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Steve Rogers gripped the steering wheel with his strong hands as he drove down the road. He'd been driving for a while and was running low on energy. The window was rolled down, messing with his dirty blonde hair and meeting his face with cold air to keep him awake until they stopped.

"How are you doing back there, Libby?", he asked, looking at the golden retriever in the backseat through the mirror. She seemed to smile as the wind blew her light blonde fur as well. Liberty was Steve's best companion. He'd rescued her as a puppy from the streets of New York 7 years earlier, and they'd always been together since. She was a very well-behaved dog and could follow Steve anywhere he went. Libby looked very content in the backseat of Steve's truck. His truck was a little older, but was well-fitting for him and Libby and was quirky, but never caused them problems.

Steve smiled and looked back at the road. His eyes fell upon a sign reading "Welcome to Idaho: The Gem State". Close. He was heading to Oregon, but it was getting late and it didn't look like they'd make it before he fell asleep. Steve had driven all the way across America, starting in his home state of New York, to get a break from the world. He'd been spending the last decade working routinely and never really living for anything but Libby. It wasn't a life that Steve wanted to continue to live, so he decided to quit his job and just drive. Oregon seemed like a good destination. The weather was never too extreme, and the people seemed docile. It was virtually the opposite of New York. He wasn't sure what he was going to do when he got there, but he knew he was looking for release and adventure.

The sky burned orange and the sun fell, warning night. Steve parked in a small rest stop and turned the car off. He offered Libby a bowl of water, and finished an apple while the sky transitioned to night. He didn't bring a large amount of belongings, but he had enough for himself and Libby. He set up a few blankets in the backseat, and climbed in to lay by her.

"We're almost there", he said, gently petting Libby's head as she lay by his stomach. She rest her head on his abdomen and sighed.

"I know", he responded, whispering. "Not far now".

Steve looked at the stars and compared their brightness, size, and shape until it put him to sleep. He held his dog gently and closed his eyes.