Lethal (Captain America)

•5

[Bucky] 1930

It had been almost ten days since they told us that Steve's Mother had died.

The worst part of it was to look at him cry.

Hug his breakable body and lay on the cold floor of the apartment.

Not wanting anyone, including Logan and I to talk and console him.

Terrifying it was to have thought that he himself could have died. Because of so much heartbreak, pain and loss. Its a miracle that the small chap survived.

Eventually, Logan and I gave up on seeing him there, suffering by himself.

So we did the only thing we all knew: hug. Whisper good things about the future that would make him smile, laugh and sob even more.

Today, his Grandmother whom lived in Michigan, would take care of us three over the summer.

Before I join the Camp Leigh and the other two start school.

I just hope she doesn't die.

What? I've had enough of the this pain bullshit.

"Bucky?" I felt Logan's hand creep on my left shoulder. Turning around, I saw her and a white suitcase standing there.

"Yeah?"

"You ready? Steve is already boarding the train."

"Alright. Let's go."

Our feet carried us to the steps of the train. The air smelled of engine smoke and mint.

Weird combination, but that's not the point.

"Steve!" Logan called out, craning her neck over the many passengers.

"Over here!" Little Steve waved his hand and smiled for the first time in days.

The reason? Don't have a clue.

A whistling sound took over whatever chatter was going on.

"Is this our train?" Steve asked me while setting his luggage down on the dusty floor and jerking his head towards a forest green train.

"I guess." I looked around, waiting for the bell to ring and announce our take off to Michigan. "We should get in."

And all of us did as I suggested.

We sat in our assigned seats, which resided in the corner. Not first class, but at least the two seats were facing each other.

"What's Michigan like?" Logan wondered, while she looked out the dirty window with velvet curtains.

Her eyes, scanning the external world- but her mind was on the question she had just asked.

"Don't know." I said.

"What we do know is that it is a farm." Steve smiled and coughed a little too much.

A concerned feeling overtook both Logan and I.

"You okay, Steve?" Logan asked while placing a hand on his small back.

"Yeah." He answered. "Just a cold."

"The often case pal." I chuckled and looked out the dirty window myself.

Steve kept coughing and Logan handed him his medicine. Over the past week, little Steve has gotten a few of those ugly rashes.

Because of that, he had to take all sorts of medication.

"Better?" Logan asked Steve raising both of her eyebrows and Steve nods while putting his small fist up to his mouth to cough again.

"I'm good." He said, clearing his throat.

"Finally." I sighed and leaned back on my seat, placing both of my hands behind my neck.

Through my sight, I spotted Logan glaring at me and sticking her tongue out.

"Very mature Logan." Steve rolled his eyes.

"It is not nice to make fun of people!" She scolded me and explained to Steve.

"Great," I sighed once more. "Now you sound like Ms. Rosch."

Let me give you a background story on Ms. Rosch. One, she was our English teacher and she always repeated the same life lessons that our parents (well, not really) and other kids' parents had already taught them. Two, frantically annoying.

"I don't sound or look like Ms Rosch, Buck." Logan crossed her arms.

"Well...maybe a little in the looks..." I smirked, knowing that a little teasing would drive Logan mad.

"Don't listen to her-I mean him." Steve told Lo assuringly then breaking into laughter along with her.

"Very funny Rogers." I now was the one who rolled his eyes.

"What?" Logan asked innocently, stepping in front of Steve in a playful manner.

"You two are incredible." I said sarcastically and heard Steve cough between chuckles.

"You're not so bad yourself, Barnes." She winked and forced Steve's head to sweetly rest on her lap. He smiled.

I know Steve likes her, but I'm not so sure about Logan.

Girls can sometimes be a math equation that I won't ever understand.

Poor Steve. If I can't understand her, he isn't either and is soon going to run up to me.

But I have my theories about Logan. She can either care for him like a brother, or some part of her deep heart can actually have feelings for Steve.

They're too young, though. Twelve isn't an age to start thinking about feelings.

It's an age for adventure. I mean, even I get into this business of girls and believe me when I say this: it is not an easy thing thing.

This I thought while I watched Logan tuck loose strands of Steve's blonde hair out of his forehead.

At least on one part of my theory, I am right.

I just don't know which one.

As the afternoon dragged on, the locomotive kept racing and so did my thoughts. This friendship that I have with these two goofs is one of a kind.

I would have never imagined that I'd wind up with them. That day, I remember- Mr. Ferris sent me to go and retrieve some groceries for him. I admit, the hesitance was at its full level, but I decided to do something good for once besides getting food from a trashcan.

That day I hoped Mr. Ferris would spare me ten cents for running his errands. Eventually I did, and my ears dragged me to the funny scene of a skinny kid and a girl who looked rough enough to wear pants.

I may have gotten ten cents that day, but I earned something even more valuable: Logan and Steve.

For them-I wouldn't trade for the world.