Edelweiss || Bucky x Reader

Chapter One

1943
New York

A gentle breeze turns over a few lone papers at our feet as we walk. Apartment buildings stretch up into the sky, the noise of their dwellers spilling from the windows. The past couple of years have been rough for everyone, but with the money coming from the war, we've started to heal. The city's going back to what it's supposed to be. But not everything has gotten better.

"Sorry, how many times?" I ask, not sure I'd heard him right.

He sighs.

"This is his eighth."

"That stupid, little..." I shake my head, arms crossed over my chest. "Why didn't you tell me, Buck? If he'd been accepted... I just deserved to know, ok?"

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd be upset." He says with a small smile.

We round the corner onto 4th Avenue. A vendor is selling today's paper.

"You aren't?"

"The only thing I'm stressing over is how many times he's lied on his enlistment forms." Bucky takes a paper from the rack and hands the man a nickel. "They can lock him up for that, you know."

I glance off to the side, imagining my twig-armed brother behind bars. It's enough to make me shudder.

"Trust me, I know." I say. "But still. If he gets accepted, what then?"

"Y/N," He chuckles. "If he so much as looks at a pair of dog tags I'll make it my personal duty to be his full-time babysitter. Deal?"

I sigh. This isn't the right time to be worrying about this.

"Deal."

He laughs and claps my shoulder. I can't help but smile.

Although he isn't my actual brother, he might as well be. Bucky is as much family as Steve. Since we were little we've been best friends. When Mom died, I was still a kid, and Bucky looked out for me. Steve and I have a three-year age gap between us, he's 24, I'm 21, but everyone assumes I'm the older sibling. Steve is small and in general very harmless. I'm taller and stronger, but I think what really sells it are my mannerisms. I stand straight and talk with my chest. It earns me an occasional dirty look, but it means I'm not a pushover. On top of all that, Bucky started teaching me self-defense when I was 16, after an.... incident. Point is, I can stand up for myself. Though there's no mistaking whether or not Steve and I are siblings. It's not just that we look similar, but if you just listen to us talk you can hear it in our voices. My teachers always just called me "Rogers" because if they didn't they'd just end up calling me by his name instead.

Bucky glances down at his watch and says, "We should probably go grab him before the Expo starts."

"Damn, already?" I ask.

"Yeah..." He says hesitantly. "Look, Steve's not the only thing I wanted to talk to you about."

I feel my back straighten as I take in a sharp breath of cool air.

Please don't say what I think you're about to.

When he opened my apartment door wearing his uniform, I knew something was off. Pins sparkling, shoes shined, brunette hair gelled down and covered with a green cap. Not the scuffed-up boy I know. It was enough of a gut punch finding out he was drafted, and then when he finished his basic training...I knew it was only a matter of time, but still...

"I got my orders."

...this stings.

"Where to?" I nod, lips pressed tight together. It feels like someone's left something heavy on my chest.

"England, with the 107th." He glances down at me, his eyes catching on my expression. "...tomorrow morning."

I nod again, but he sees through me.

His hand finds my shoulder. We stop walking as he pulls me to the side, out of the way of other pedestrians. His eyes find mine and he smiles gently.

"Hey, come on doll, come here." He pulls me into his side. "I'm going to be ok. Don't worry about me."

"Worry? Who said anything about worry?" I half-smile as I shove him off.

"Shut up." He laughs as he ruffles my hair, ruining the pin-up curls. "You're going to be counting the days until I get back."

"Yeah, don't push it, Barnes." I tease, doing my best to repair the damage.

We laugh as we walk, but deep down, I don't feel all that much better.

...

Bucky had said Steve was at the cinema, but when we get there he isn't inside. Right away I know something is wrong. Steve wouldn't lie to Bucky. I look up at him, trying to convey my concern. We're both wearing the same expression. Suddenly there's a loud clang from the alley next to the theater that makes me jump.

"Damn alley cats." I say, annoyed that my focus has been broken.

"That's not an alley cat." Bucky's voice has lost its welcoming tone. He sounds frightening. His whole demeanor has changed, his back straight and stiff, fists clenched. In his uniform, he really does look like a soldier. He walks quickly out the doors we came in and directly for the alley. I follow. Low and behold, the bang we heard was not an alley cat, but Steve ripping the lid off a trash can to use as a shield against the man beating him to a pulp.

I look up at Bucky who looks down at me. We know what to do. We've had to do this more times than you'd think. Steve has a bad habit of picking fights.

I grab the man's arms and hold them behind his back while Bucky throws one clean punch across his face. Not enough to leave any real damage, just enough to send the message.

"Pick on someone your own size!" Bucky says to Steve's attacker as he flees the alley.

"Oh boy, you told him." I laugh quietly.

I'm already kneeling by my brother's side, checking his injuries. Something I've become rather accustomed to doing.

"Thanks." Steve says quietly.

"Yeah, whatever loser." I mumble. I'm cleaning him up, but I'm also looking for something.

"I mean it, Y/N"

"I'm sure you do, pal."

And then I see it: a small paper sticking out of his back pocket. His enlistment form. I snatch it up with some panicked protest from the accused. After quickly reading it over I look up and glare at him.

"Paramus? Really?" I say in pure exhaustion as I rub my temples. "Jersey, of all places?"

"I can explain." He says, reaching for the form.

"Yeah? Explain." I demand, yanking it away. He pauses.

"Ok so maybe I can't explain-"

"Oh save it, Steve." I snap at him. "You know what happens if they take you, right? You die, Steve. You die." He looks so ashamed, I almost stop my lecture there. Almost. "Do you know how hard it'll be with Buck gone, much less—"

"What do you mean 'With Buck gone'?"

Shit.

Any and all shame has been replaced by angry confusion. "Bucky, what is she talking about?"

I look at Bucky, and he nods. "I got my orders, pal. 107th, Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow"