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.

"You should roll up your sleeves too...the elbow's ripped" Steve told added as they neared his house. "You know Gil?" he continued as Bucky fixed his sleeve.

"He's in my class," Bucky explained shortly. Trying to disassociate himself with the boy as much as possible, he continued with his opinion on Gil, "He's a real jerk."

"Ya got that right," Steve agreed.

"Your ma is okay with you fighting?" Bucky questioned, prompted by Steve's lack of effort in concealing his wounds.

"Nah she hates it, but there's really no hidin it this time," Steve answered, which made sense. He had a big gash on the side of his head, a bloody nose, two soon to be black eyes, a swollen lip, eight split knuckles, and scraped knees and elbows. His dirt-caked shirt was now so ripped it dangled from him and it could be guessed that he had soon to be bruises all over his legs, where assaulters kicked him mercilessly whenever he fell to the ground. To top it all of, his breathing reminded Bucky of a donkey in pain. In fact it baffled his that Steve was even conscious.
"Right..." he answered.
***************************
Steve walked in his house with Bucky a couple strides behind him. Sarah Rogers was waiting for her son's arrival by the door. "Hi mama," he said hoping he wasn't about to get an earful.

"Steven, what happened?" she questioned, eyes full of shock and concern.

Steve hated lying to his ma, so he explained the situation. "Gil and a couple of his friends were fighting with me," he stated timidly, leaving out the part where he was held back and hit relentlessly, and when his breathing got so difficult that he thought he'd pass out.

"You know you shouldn't be doing that Steven..." Mrs. Rogers stated, face softening, looking at his wounds. "I worry about you."

"Yes ma'am...I'm sorry," Steve answered remorsefully. Sarah was compassionate this time and left it at that.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Steve didn't look as hurt in her perspective, as earlier because he purposely turned his head to hide the gash and he concentrated on breathing normally again. He shook his head yes.

"This is my pal Bucky," he said, eager to change the subject and gestured behind him. He didn't really consider the stranger a friend yet, but the word slipped from his mouth.

Looking like a deer in headlights for a split second, Mrs. Rogers exclaimed, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. Nice to meet you,"

"You too ma'am," Bucky answered sweetly.

"You mind if we get somethin to eat before he has to go home?" Steve asked, even though a snack was probably all that they had left in their cupboard.

Considering if she had enough food for her son's new friend, she faltered to avoid possible embarrassment for a moment "...I don't see why not. I have to go do the laundry, so you boys behave. It was very nice to meet you Bucky." Her blonde curls bounced as she walked away.

"Yes ma'am. It was nice to meet you too," Bucky answered, before Steve had the chance to. Sarah walked down the hall and Steve went over to the bathroom. He wasn't really getting a snack, it was an excuse to help Bucky cover up his eye.

"C'mon," Steve told Bucky and motioned him to the bathroom. He moved over to his mom's corner of the sink. My ma puts on this powder stuff. I think it'll work," he explained.

"Make-up?!" Bucky blurted out, blushing.

"SHHH...You don't want to get in trouble do ya?" Steve asked, partially for his loud response and partially over his guess at Bucky's mother's reaction to his black eye without the make-up. "...I'm not gonna say anything to anyone...and it'll just be on your eye,"

Bucky sighed, "Fine," he answered, sounding quite unconvinced.

"Okay, stay still," Steve said messily smudging his fingers in the pale-toned powder. He pushed down hard on Bucky's eye, pretending to cover up the bruise.

"Ah," Bucky said quietly and winced, "You could've warned me." Steve laughed at him and then apologized, although he had done it on purpose. He finished sloppily spreading the make-up around Bucky's eye, truly helping now.

"There ya go," Steve said, putting the powder carefully back where it was in hopes that his mother wouldn't notice.

"Thanks," Bucky said gratefully, and got up to leave.

"Hey ya got Gil off my back," Steve answered, still refusing to thank him, but doing it in his own way.

"Are you...really okay?" Bucky asked, concerned for his new friend.

"I'm fine," Steve answered coldly.

"...Want me to help you clean up?" Bucky continued. He knew that the kid needed help, but was hesitant to offer due to the stubbornness of Steve that he had picked up on. Steve didn't really want the help...he had learned by now to take care of "battle scars" himself, but he didn't want his mother worrying about him. He knew if he did it himself, she would probably see him before he was done and get all worked up again.

"Uh sure...thanks," Steve answered, slightly embarrassed. Bucky mainly just collected all of the objects Steve required to patch himself up. He couldn't reach a dirty cut on his back, so James cleaned that one up for him. They were finished in a few minutes.

"Where do you live?" he asked Bucky while moving his elbow joint back and forth in an attempt to subdue some pain in the area.

"A block down," Bucky responded, pointing behind Steve's house.

"If you cut through the back, it'll be like you walked straight home," Steve advised.

"Thanks," Bucky said, opening Steve's back door.

"Bye," Steve waved at Bucky and cleaned up the mess of all of the bandages and first aid objects he'd used. He liked that Bucky kid...maybe they could become pals.