Chapter Text
"I'm six and ma says that I'm the man of the house. I don't see why I gotta sit out here." Steve pouted as he sat in the hard plastic of the clinic chair. His bright blue eyes squinted at Winifred Barnes, the mother of his best friend, as she smiled patiently at the two young boys. Bucky squirmed in his own seat but didn't voice his opinion. He thought it was funny listening to Steve blabber on, dramatically posing an argument everybody knew Winifred would win.
Steve's brows were unconsciously furrowed with a conscious dislike for hospitals; he wasn't born a healthy baby and Steve had struggled with illness after illness all six years of his life. The doctors had told his mother that he'd always be this way, even though they continued to offer him medical care. Steve had been subjected to gut-wrenching treatments, sharp needles, and smooth pills too many times to count. His bad mood, however, could not last long. Today was a happy day, for the Rogers and Barnes were here for a different reason entirely. Today, Sarah Rogers was bringing another life into the world. Steve had been anticipating this day for months - it was a balm to the open wound of his father's suicide and lifted the young boy's spirits.
Both families of Barnes and Rogers attended the same church, thus laying the framework for a friendship between the boys. The children were of the same age, though James - two months older - was quite taller and much stronger than his friend. The two bonded over the emptiness of a house without a father: George Barnes and Joseph Rogers had gone to serve in the First World War. Only one came home, and Winifred Barnes became a widow. Their church's congregation rushed to offer condolences and comfort for a grieving wife. Sarah Rogers, with her honest and bleeding heart, was among them. The woman poured all the energy she had into comforting the other woman as best she could. However, as Mrs. Rogers was busy with her work as a nurse and consoling Mrs. Barnes, no one quite noticed Mr. Rogers sinking into the bottle.
Joseph was haunted by the scenes of World War I - the War, they called it then, never anticipating a second - replaying in his dreams every night. He heard screams in his sleep, and Joseph would leap from the bed in a panic as they drove him into plagued wakefulness. His bare feet would drag across the floor as the man struggled to breathe, but Joseph would continue until he reached the bedroom door of his son. There, the fear would ease as the father watched the slow, uneven breathing of his child. He would smile at Sarah when she looked up from the book she was reading to their precious Steve. She would smile back, raising a hand to rest it on her growing stomach.
No one could have foretold his suicide.
The snow had been lightly falling, a soft background to the figures that were huddled on the Brooklyn Bridge. Steve's hands had been pale and thin, sticking out from his sides, as the boy gawked. Winifred Barnes had lugged him backward, one of her hands strapped across Steve's chest while the other planted itself on her own son's shoulder. Her grip had been tight, merciless in its fearful strength, and afterward, her hands had shaken as she held ice to the small yellowing bruises. At that moment, as his father teetered on the edge of life and fulfillment, Winifred's grip was the only thing tethering Steve to that horrifying moment. Bucky had reached out and clutched his best friend's hand as the snowfall grew heavy. His touch has been weary but it had offered the courage to the other boy.
Sarah stood closer to the edge, her voice a desperate cry against the wind. Her hands waved hopelessly, reaching out as far as she could to her children's father. Joseph turned, looking at his wife with lonely eyes. He watched her figure swelling with his unborn daughter before they scattered to Steve. Tears ran down his son's cheeks, turning Steve's skin cold and clammy. He would be bedridden with a horrific cold for three weeks afterward. Joseph's smile was gentle, comforting as it had been all of Steve's life. It created a surreal vision in the boy's memory - a horrible thing that would haunt him all his life.
"Don't - Don't you dare." Sarah's voice had broke, cracking with insistence. Steve had never seen his mother's eyes glass over with that hardened look before. It had shaken his very bones. Sarah had begged with every gesture and look she had for Joseph not to do this - not to their son.
"Take care of your sister, Stevie."
Joseph's words had been carried off by the wind, but Steve had been able to see the shape of his father's mouth just fine. Steve had watched the words float away, ringing like shattered glass on a tile floor. Sarah had screamed, lunging forward - caught by an officer - as Joseph Grant Rogers had closed his eyes, hands outspread like wings, before he had disappeared in Brooklyn's icy waters.
The door to the hospital room swung open, but Steve only caught a glimpse of the nurses' swishing skirts before it slammed shut again. With a huff, he slouched in the chair. Bucky elbowed him as Winifred gave a scolding tusk regarding Steve's impatience. They'd been waiting since six o'clock the night before. Bucky knew numbers better than him, so Steve had tasked his friend with watching the clock. With each tick and every tock, Bucky would report how much time had passed. Barnes' last check had revealed it was four in the morning, meaning "allota hours" had gone by, as Bucky had so eloquently drawled. Steve had whined and rubbed his thin hands over his cheeks, terribly upset with how long it was taking. Winifred chuckled as the small, asthmatic blonde pulled against her strong grip without much progress.
"Now, Stevie. Calm yourself. It won't do for you to look all ruffled up, now will it? We'll be meeting a young lady this morning." Mrs. Barnes' eyes shined in earnest when Steve huffed at her attempts to smooth his hair out. Bucky wriggled in the hard seat he shared with his best friend. The older boy gallantly eyed his mother with a glare when she made to slick his hair down too.
"These things take time. We just have to be patient." Winifred attempted to placate the unruly boys, smiling as wide as she could. It was the same charming smile that Bucky would later develop, although everyone would swear the cocky grin had belonged to Sarah. Steve let his head thunk back against the wall with a groan.
"But ma," Bucky moaned, his eyes rolled dramatically into the back of his head, "it's been hours."
Bucky's mother merely let out a round of warm, teasing laughter. Her fingers fluttered back to her son's hair, who grudgingly let her sweep it back. "Well, did you think bringing another person into this world was gonna take five minutes?"
It was as if Steve had been reminded of the reason they were here and he instantly sat straighter in his chair. Excitement gleamed in his blue eyes, feet swaying in the air, and he talked as fast as he could at Bucky about all the things they'd get to do with his sister. When the door finally opened, both Steve and Bucky jumped to their feet. Winifred scolded them lightly for being impatient, but there was no real weight to her words. The boys were the happiest they'd been in ages and their excitement was contagious. Sarah and Winifred had been plagued by worries, especially when considering their finances, but they knew that, even though the new life they brought into the world would make their struggle harder, this was the life they wanted. Raising their children. Together.
Steve scrambled inside the hospital room first, though Bucky was a close second. In the hospital room, two nurses were over by the bassinet, observing the family, as they were friends of Sarah. Steve's mother was sitting up in her hospital bed, pillows stacked behind her, with the new baby settled in the crook of her elbow. Sarah looked exhausted but her smile was as warm as ever. She watched her son's thinner frame emerge from the doorway first, followed by Bucky's taller silhouette creeping on the back of Steve's heels like a shadow.
"Come in, boys. Oh, my sweet boys." Sarah whispered, careful to keep her voice soft so as not to wake the baby. Steve rushed to her side, hands landing on the thin mattress. Sarah brushed the knuckles of her free hand over his cheek, stroking at her son's hair. Bucky stood to Steve's left, followed in by his own mother.
"Can I see her, ma?" Steve asked, straining on his toes to get a glimpse at his new sister. Sarah chuckled and gently padded a spot on the bed beside her. After Bucky helped his friend up, Steve settled by the crook of his mother's elbow, gleaming. Sarah pulled the blanket back to reveal the blue-eyed baby girl she held. Bucky peered over his best friend's shoulder to get a good look at the baby girl.
Her curls were not sandy like Steve's own straight blonde hair, but they were dark - dark like the mud after it rains, like the trunk of the trees lining the streets of Brooklyn, like the dusty shade of the sky right before it turns pitch black. It was the same color as Joseph's hair. Steve recognized the resemblance immediately and, for a moment, Steve worried that she might end up like their papa. He could still picture his father leaning over the bridge's railing and he could still hear the splash of the water as he dived into the river below. But then, she opened her tiny eyes. Steve was relieved to see that they matched his mother's eyes as well as his own: two bluebells settled beneath her eye-lids.
"She's mighty pretty." Bucky grinned as he clapped Steve on the back. The mothers joked among themselves that maybe their children would end up together. Steve didn't hear a word. He was much too focused on the darling little thing he had the opportunity to call sister.
"What will you name her, Sarah?" Winifred asked as they set Steve up for holding the baby. Her sun-brown hands gently helped settle the baby in the crook of Steve's elbow, cradling the child's head with her worn palm. Bone-deep tiredness shone in Sarah's eyes as she watched Bucky and Steve fret over the baby. The sight made the tightness in her chest loosen.
"I was thinking of Beverly Lois. Joseph always liked those silly beaver furs and his mother was a Lois." Steve's mother's voice was quiet and her oldest friend gently took her hand.
"You two better keep your eyes on this little miss here." The nurse teasingly warned, giggling at the boys' incredulous faces. Bucky snorted and slung his arm over Steve's shoulders, towering over the Rogers' kids with a serious expression. Winifred raised a brow, glancing at her son, entirely unaware that her own child was smitten at first sight.
"Ain't nothing or nobody gonna mess with Steve's sister, long as I'm around." Bucky declared, nodding at Sarah with all the authority he could muster. She smiled and offered him her gratitude, entirely unaware that Bucky would one day lose his freedom trying to keep that promise.