ashes, ashes - stucky

- rusted -

Four years come and gone, high school on the horizon. James held onto the straps of his backpack, walking briskly. He'd grown up considerably in the past years, much too fast. For starters, he never again left his house without a pocket knife. A long time ago, he'd decided that, without any other choice, he'd be able to kill a man. What was a life, besides inexplicable, augmented misery?

The boy had come to terms with his sickness. Upon researching, he'd diagnosed himself as having ptsd. It was plenty common, best not to make a mountain out of a molehill. Even so, Barnes could never be sure if he was hearing real laughter, or some twisted cackle in the back of his brain.

However, the banging and shouting up ahead was undoubtedly real. His hand traveled to his pant pocket, where his knife rested. Continuing along the route, he saw a group of boys, a bit older than himself, circling something. That something cried out in pain, revealing that it was actually a very small someone. James was suddenly overcome with rage. How could these goons prey on someone so much smaller than them? Once he got closer, he could even see the mess of blonde hair atop the victim's bloody head.

Steeling his nerves, James drew his knife and shouted, "Back off!" to which most of the aggressors did. The rest of them took a minute before noticing the knife, then immediately put their hands up in surrender.

One of them scowled and muttered, "Whatever, man. We had our fun anyway." before walking away, the others trailing behind.

The beaten boy shook uncontrollably. He flinched when Barnes held out a hand to help him up. "I-I'm not scared of you." he stuttered, sitting up and raising his fists defensively.

James laughed, shaking his head. He grabbed the stranger's wrist, pulling him to his feet. "Me friend." He joked, speaking slowly, like the other was an alien life form.

"Don't make fun of me." The smaller boy leaned into James, an arm around his shoulder. "Who are you, anyway?"

What a loaded question. Who are you? "Not sure yet, only fourteen" Barnes cracked a smile, kicking a rock. "But people call me James. You?"

"Rogers. Steve Rogers." Proudly, Steve lifted his chin. His moment was quickly snuffed out when Barnes ruffled his hair, tongue sticking out. "And I am not having a good first day of high school."

"That makes two of us. Saving your ass really threw a wrench in my plans to hate everyone in this hellhole." How could anyone dislike Rogers? He was small, cute, harmless. At the same time, there was an eternal flame in his baby blue eyes. "I really tried to be a jerk, you know. It lasted two minutes."

Steve laughed, clutching his side with his free hand. He coughed, wheezing a bit. His breathing became labored for a few seconds, and then he looked up at Barnes. "Well, James, I think you're pretty swell. Except..." he tapped his chin in mock thought, wiping a bit of blood from his split lip. "I'm definitely not gonna call you James. Got a middle name, soldier?"

"Buchanan." The taller boy responded, rolling his eyes.

"Wow, that's worse." To be fair, it didn't roll off the tongue. "Lucky for you, I'm really good at nicknames. You'll need a side-kicky alias... something fun." The two boys could see their new school up ahead. It was... big.

James stopped in his tracks. He barked out a laugh, tilting his head. "Side-kick?" Shaking his head, he continued walking.

Scratching the back of his neck with nervous giggles, Rogers answered, "Yeah, you're my side-kick now. No take-backs either."

The two entered the school building, taking in their surroundings. Chatter filled the halls, students looking for their lockers and teachers trying their best to help. Someone bumped into Steve as James looked for the nurse's office. The smaller boy fell over, just barely catching himself with his palms on the floor. Barnes hoisted him upwards, ushering him towards a door labeled 'nurse.'

"Looks like I don't have a choice then, punk. Someone's gotta keep you alive." The brunette ruffled his new friend's hair once more, pushing a hastily scribbled pass towards the nurse. He'd seen a sign that said every visiting student had to fill one out with their medical reason. Since Steve's hands were shaking rather badly, James took the liberty of doing it himself.

The nurse sighed while reading the pass. She droned, "James Buck-Anin Barnes?"

"Buchanan." Barnes corrected, looking over to Rogers, who'd broken out into a wicked grin.

Steve whispered to himself, his genius almost overpowering. "... Bucky."