The Boy from Brooklyn (marvel one-shot)

The hike up the mountain was freezing, and Bucky was colder than he wanted to be.

His blue coat was built more for combat and flexibility than warmth. His heart pounded steadily beneath the silvery tags around his neck. The wind bit sharply at his nose, and he wished the commandos had brought some sort of scarves or masks to keep out the chill.

And yet, even as his legs began to ache from the climb, and conversation steadily slowed to a heavy silence, he felt a spike of warmth when he glanced ahead at Steve.

Bucky felt a smirk tug at his lips. He was so proud of that kid, so stupidly proud. He’d watched him grow up, watched his character shape into the person he was today. And Bucky had grown up right alongside him.

But maybe the title of kid didn’t fit Steve quite as well as it did when he was all skin and bones. Now he was tall, strong, and wore his pride as deeply as he’d always felt but was unable to show before.

Ahead, Steve stumbled slightly into a snow drift, causing the soldiers to give a chorus of rough laughter and playful taunts.

Scratch that. Maybe Steve was still the little kid Bucky remembered. Visually, he had changed, but his heart remained the same, true and strong.

The men neared the top of the ridge, overlooking the snowy train tracks below. The sun was dim, blocked by thick, low-set clouds of white and snow.

Bucky gritted his teeth, ignoring the sweat gathering on his brow, and the fact that his heart raced faster than the subways back home. He hated heights.

He turned heel sharply, and helped fasten the zipline cable to the rock face, making sure it held fast.

“Watch it, Barnes,” Dugan jabbed playfully. “Wouldn’t wanna slip, would we?” He grinned.

Bucky let out a half-hearted laugh. “Yeah…wouldn’t wanna do that.”

A fist punched him in the shoulder, making him flinch slightly in surprise.

Jim Morita held up his hands momentarily in mock surrender. “Wanna get some drinks later?” he called over the sound of the sudden winds.

“I’m gonna have so much that I forget this miserable day,” Dugan shouted back.

Steve gave the signal to circle up and the others did so.

Bucky hesitated, watching them follow the brother he’d grown up with. The man he once called kid, back when they played in the streets of Brooklyn for far too long into the night hours.

And…Bucky sighed. He wasn’t ready for this.

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(Author's note: I hadn't written more than a page or two in years prior to writing this one day when I didn't have internet. I'm working on making my writing more serious and less...cheesy? Cringe? Any critique is appreciated!)