Just Some Friends From Brooklyn!

June 20, 1927

Steven groaned as two bullies held his arms and another socked him in the mouth. He strained to break free from the 5th graders' grip.

"Gil you're bein' yellow." he stated as his tormentor's arm retracted to swing at him again. "You really want a fight then you guys can TRY too" he spit at Jonny, the boy holding his left arm. His grip loosened, but not as quickly as Steve had hoped. The scrawny boy, determined to look tough, avoided screaming out when Gil quickly bloodied his face once again, connecting with Steve's cheekbone; a painful target prominent by malnutrition.

"Drop 'im" he ordered, and the other boys threw Steve to the ground. His head clunked against the unforgiving pavement and he could feel pulsating in his brain.
Though he knew that the energy he had exerted straining against Gil's lap dogs had weakened him and an asthma attack was looming, his pride was more important to him than his wellbeing. Steve jumped up like a wild man, trying to fight the three persecutors at once.
A few minutes later, neither party had given up on the fight. Steve looked terrible, and was wheezing loudly. The other boys were nearly unharmed, but Steve Rogers was resilient and stubborn, entertaining the other boys with his continued effort.
Another fifth grader with neat dark brown hair caught a glimpse of the alleyway. Gil, Jonny, and some other kid he didn't recognize were beating up a small third grader. He had seen the battered boy walking to school a few days ago and wondered how he was even alive.
The onlooking boy thought back to when his ma had told him not to get in anymore fights, but he was feeling terrible for the individual who was now leaning against the brick wall in the corner of the alley, wiping a bloody nose while his opposers laughed at him. He dropped his books and entered the alley.

"Gil c'mon you're gonna pick on that puny kid?" he questioned, tactically threatening the bully's ego.

"HEY I'm not-" Steve started defensively, and the other boy cut him off.

"I'm tryin' to save ya here..." he explained, mumbling through his teeth.

"I don't need ya-" Steve began to rebut.

"Why do you care Barnes? Ya like this sissy or something?" Gil responded, seemingly not phased, spitting the words at Steve's defender.
Bucky made short work of the boys, who suddenly had an urgent need to leave the alleyway. Before he could even introduce himself to the younger kid, he spoke.

"I didn't need your-" he paused for a deep and labored inhale, "help ya know." He was embarrassed that he wasn't independent in the run-in.

"Yeah, clearly," Bucky answered, extending his arm to help him up. Steve got up on his own and began walking in the opposite direction. He took a puff of his inhaler, which was sitting on top of his worn, leather books. "You're welcome," Barnes shouted as Steve started limping home. Reluctantly, Rogers turned around and extended his hand.

"Steve Rogers," he informed, only to be polite.

"I'm James Barnes...but everyone calls me Bucky," James responded shaking Steve's hand, seeming more genuine in his words. "Gee I hate to ask but you got anything I can use to hide this," Bucky questioned, pointing at his eye which was going to be bruised soon. "My ma told me that I couldn't get in any fights this year..." he explained.

"If you come to my house, I can cover it up," Steve offered a little more sympathetic this time. "It'll hide it for today."

"Thanks," Bucky replied, following Steve through down a couple blocks to his house. The homes were uniformly compact as well as run down, and it seemed as though they all were finished with a coating of dust from their grassless entrances. Even so, the shouting of vendors on the streets, kids playing along the sidewalk, and small neighborhood shops made the place seem more homey.