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Steve glanced at the man next to him. "You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?"
Bucky grinned. "Was that the time you used our train money to buy hotdogs?"
"You blew three bucks trying to win that stuffed bear for a redhead," Steve corrected.
Bucky grinned even wider, then paused. "What was her name again?"
"Dolores," Steve replied. "You called her Dot."
"She's gotta be a hundred years old right now..."
"So are we, pal."
***
"Awww!"
Bucky turned and shrugged, a rueful look on his face. "I'm sorry, doll face. Guess I just can't catch a break today."
Dolores twisted one red curl around her finger, lips pouting. "I had a name picked out and everything. I was going to call him, 'Bucky Bear' and keep him on my bed, so I'd have something to hold until I saw you again."
"And I would have loved that, you know I would have, Dot." Bucky made a show of pulling out his trouser pockets. "But I'm all out of money for today." He looked up at her through lowered lashes and gave her one of his winsome smiles. "Anything else I could do to try to win your heart?"
Dolores's pout vanished in a giggle. "Oh, don't worry about the bear," she said, taking his proffered arm and setting off with him down the Playland midway. "I had a swell time with you anyway."
"Likewise." Bucky shifted his arm so it was now wrapped around Dolores's slim waist as they walked back toward the entrance.
Steve, who had tried to stay out of the way as much as possible, trailed along behind them with Dolores's younger sister, Ruth, at his side. They had exhausted their supply of small talk some time ago, but at least Ruth didn't seem to actively hate him, as many of Bucky's seconds did. Maybe she was just as used to being saddled with someone as he was. Steve mentally shrugged as he brushed wind-swept hair out of his eyes. It didn't really matter to him; honestly, it made his life one step less complicated this way.
At the entrance to Rockaway Beach's Playland, he and Bucky parted ways with the girls. Dolores pressed a kiss to Bucky's cheek as they parted, and made little fluttering demands about Bucky looking her up the next time he was in Queens, while Steve and Ruth gave each other amiable waves.
"'Dot,' huh?"
A familiar smirk curled at the corners of Bucky's mouth. "'Dolores' seemed much too formal for a fun-lovin' gal like that, don't you think?" he said, with a sideways glance at his best friend.
Steve rolled his eyes. "How would I know?" he asked. "She obviously loved it, though."
"Yeah," Bucky said, the grin turning slightly rueful. "I was almost sorry to let her down about the bear."
"Speaking of which," Steve said, as they turned a corner and their station came into view. "You didn't really mean it when you told her you were out of money, did you?"
Bucky pressed his lips together. He wouldn't look at Steve. "Yeah, actually, I did."
"What?" Steve stopped dead.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, pal." Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. "Had to make her disappointment big enough to keep her at enough of a distance, you know that."
"Yeah, all right, but, Buck, you can't just blow all our train money. Not for a dame. Heck, not for anybody."
Bucky looked down at him. "I'd'a done it for you," he said in a low voice.
Steve was not to be placated. "If that's your way of trying to weasel out of this, it's not going to work," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "We'd still be just as stranded here in Queens as we are now."
"I know, I know. I just … I had to make it look good, you know?"
Steve heaved a sigh. "Yeah, I know. But next time, d'you think you could make it look good to the tune of ten cents less? Ten lousy cents, Buck. That's all the fare we needed."
"So where's your money, punk, if you know so much?"
"Train out here. Hot dogs for lunch. Slipped you my last fifty cents so you could impress Dolores. Ring any bells?"
It was Bucky's turn to sigh. "Of course it does. Just had to be a jerk about it."
"You're a jerk all right."
Another grin curled Bucky's generous mouth. "But at least I'm your jerk," he said, blue eyes sparkling.
Steve just rolled his eyes again. "How 'bout if my jerk find us a ride home? I'm not walkin' back to Brooklyn, you know."
Bucky looked around for a moment, absently chewing on his bottom lip as he did so. Steve forced himself to look away before the flush in his cheeks became too noticeable.
"Aha!" Bucky crowed triumphantly a moment later.
"What?"
"I think I've found us some transportation." Bucky slung his arm around Steve's narrow shoulders and guided him down the street to the left. "Just let me do all the talking."
"Why does that not reassure me?" Steve grumbled, but let himself be steered along anyway.
***
Steve did have to hand it to Bucky in the end, though. The truck had been plastered with a sign declaring it to belong to "Wendell's Ice Cream Treats" from Brooklyn. With only a little wheedling, the driver had agreed to give them a lift back to the borough. It was – unsurprisingly – chilly in the back of the freezer truck, but Steve had used the opportunity to sit in the vee of Bucky's legs and lean against his warm, solid chest for the duration of their journey.
"See?" Bucky murmured against Steve's skin, where he was languidly trailing his lips along Steve's exposed throat. "Don't my ideas always work out, Stevie?"
"Whatever you say, pal," Steve mumbled in response, tipping his head back a little further against Bucky's shoulder. They were safely on their way home, so what was the point in arguing? Still….
"I hate that you have to find dishonest ways to let 'em down easy, Buck," he added, a bit reluctantly. "They're nice dames – they deserve better."
Bucky rested his chin on Steve's shoulder. "I know," he said with a sigh. "But you know this is how it's gotta be, so people don't pester us none about why we're not settling down yet."
"All right, but losing a target-shooting game?" Steve turned a little in the circle of Bucky's arms to look him in the eye; it was almost completely pitch black in the truck, except where light leaked around the edges of the doors, but he gave Bucky his best glare anyway. "You know you've always hit everything you've aimed at, even when we were kids just knockin' tin cans off of fenceposts with stones."
"You got a better idea? I was tryin' to make her think of me as less of a catch, seeing as I couldn't hit nothin'. That way, it was all on her if we didn't work out, not just that I couldn't be bothered to see her again."
Steve sighed again and turned back around, resuming his original position against Bucky's chest. "I know. And it's not like I've got a better notion. But it still feels wrong."
Bucky just tightened his arms around Steve. "Yeah, well, just remember that, according to everyone else, you and I are the wrong ones. But I wouldn't do it any differently, would you?"
Steve just threaded his fingers through Bucky's and held on tight.
***
They still had a bit of a walk to get to their apartment from Wendell's shop front, but it was a beautiful June day with plenty of warmth to counter the chilly journey; Steve's asthma even behaved itself. And then they were up the three worn flights of stairs and into the tiny place they called home.
"Not such a bad adventure, eh?" Bucky said, shedding his suit jacket and draping it carefully over one of the kitchen chairs. He turned to walk toward the sofa, but Steve stood in his way.
"Not so fast, Buck," Steve said, with a hand to Bucky's chest. "I'm thinking you might still have some apologizing to do for blowing three whole dollars in one afternoon."
"Oh, yeah?" Bucky raised an eyebrow. "What sort of penance did you have in mind?"
Steve slid his hand up Bucky's shirtfront to grasp his tie up near the knot, then pulled him down for a kiss. "I can think of one or two things you might be able to do to make it up to me," he murmured in the moment before their lips met.
Bucky eagerly slanted his lips over Steve's, changing the angle slightly so they fit together the way he liked best. His tongue darted out, seeking entrance, and was gratified by the small pleased noises Steve made in the back of his throat as he granted it. He loved those little noises; Steve never seemed consciously in control of them, the way they bubbled up, just a completely organic and unfiltered reaction.
"So, have I properly atoned for my sins?" Bucky whispered against Steve's mouth, as he and Steve parted for air long moments later.
"Nope." Steve hooked his fingers in Bucky's belt loops, tugging him closer. Both of them were sporting seriously tented trousers by this point. "I'm thinking you're going to have to work pretty hard to get out of this one."
"Trust me, I can do 'hard,'" Bucky replied with a grin, thrusting his own hips forward for emphasis and pressing his aching length into Steve's through the fabric of their trousers. "How's this?" He gripped Steve's hips and thrust again, harder. "This good enough for ya?"
Steve's little noises took on a strangled tone.
"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Bucky said, as Steve began walking him backwards towards their shared bedroom, fumbling open shirt buttons as they went.
The rest of Bucky's apology required very few words, indeed.
***
Steve looked out at the frozen tundra of Siberia, the cold bringing back memories, not of sleeping in ice, but of something else entirely. He glanced at the man next to him. "You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of that freezer truck?"
Bucky grinned as his eyes met Steve's. Some of the details were fuzzy but, oh, yeah. He remembered.
(End)