Brooklyn, May 14, 1941

"Bucky! Wake up, son, you're gonna be late for work!"

Bucky groaned as he pushed himself up on his elbows.

"I'm up, Pops!" he called drowsily.

"I'm takin' your sister to school! Hurry up and get dressed; breakfast and lunch are ready in the kitchen!"

"Uhu, yeah... Thanks!"

Bucky rubbed the sleep away from his eyes and flopped over to check his alarm clock. A little after seven. Thank God he had the day shift today. If he punched in at work no later than 8.30 a.m., he'd be okay. He still had some time to wash and get ready, but he wouldn't be able to pass by Steve's. He'd have to do that after work. On the bright side, going later meant there'd be less chance of walking into —
Bucky was suddenly wide awake. He threw the covers back and looked down, praying desperately that it hadn't happened again. But when he saw the stains on his briefs, he knew it had. He grunted in frustration and dropped back on his pillow, covering his face with his hands. This was so embarrassing. His mind and body were in a conspiracy to mess him up.

It had been two months since his birthday. Two months since that night at the Atalanta Club. Two months since Bucky and Evelyn had kissed. And not a single day had gone by without him thinking about it. He tried not to, though. Boy, did he try. But no matter what he did, he always ended up on that dance floor with Evelyn in his arms and her lips against his.
Bucky had gone out with Bonnie a few times, all to get Evelyn out of his head. She was a lovely cookie. Real friendly, too, and more than willing to go past second and even third base after a few dates. But every time Bucky kissed her, he felt something was missing. Not that she was a bad kisser, far from it. It was just... There was no connection. Not like with...

Nope, not going there! I do not want Blondie like that. She's impulsive and arrogant and stubborn and... and kind. Gentle. Gorgeou—oh Christ, no!

Bucky jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. He stripped down and stepped into the shower. The ice-cold water assaulted his skin, making Bucky shiver. He stood stock-still, breathing deeply, with his eyes firmly shut, thinking of literally anything but Evelyn Rogers. Slowly but surely, Bucky lost his erection. He turned the water off in relief. This was becoming a problem. He had to deal with it, and fast.
But first things first — work. Enough time had been wasted. And at least that early shipment coming in from Ceylon today would keep his mind off of Evelyn. He hoped.

***

"Heads up!"

Bucky dove to catch the bag before it hit the ground. He hollered back, "Throw it a little further, why don'tcha?"

"Ain't my fault you're daydreaming again!" replied Simon gruffly. "Now come on, move your ass! We got another full container to go!"

"Another? Jeez, what the heck is up with people and all these spices?"

"Beats me! Just hustle, will ya?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm goin'!"

Bucky threw the bag over his right shoulder and carried it down the dock, careful not to get anyone's way. It was unusually busy today. A busy day meant work. Work meant another day some could feed their families. Bucky was lucky he got a job on the fixed crew. He was young, strong, and had an aptitude for mathematics. If he wasn't helping with the unloading, he was doing inventory and admin — something few others could do.
But the fixed crew only got so much work done. So, they got stuck with day workers. Some came every day and got the hang of things pretty quickly. They were practically part of the family. And then there were those who only came once in a while. Those were the ones who could screw everything up for the rest.

"Tommy! That line is loose again! Make sure it's secure!"

"Sorry, Mr. Barnes! I'll get right on it!"

Bucky huffed when the seventeen-year-old hastily did as he was told. Tommy wasn't bad at the job per se; he just got distracted easily. But that's when mistakes happened. And those mistakes could have disastrous consequences. Just last year, a day worker got killed when he fell into the water too close to the ship's propellor as it was starting up to leave again.
His father had begged Bucky to take any other job than the docks, but it was the best one around. He had a steady income, was close to home, and the hours weren't too crazy. Besides, Bucky wasn't the type to sit in some office to type up this or that report. He needed to work with his hands and his brain. And sure, it was a rough gig, and yes, it was dangerous. But he could get hit by a car any time he crossed the streets, too. He'd face death when it came knocking, not even a minute before.

Bucky entered the warehouse and dropped the sack with the others, all neatly stacked in a five-by-six square. He took a moment to stretch his joints and scratched his shoulder and neck when he felt a little itch. The sacks weren't particularly heavy, but they were no lightweight either (Steve would snap in half if he tried to lift just a quarter of the content). And his prickly work clothes didn't help either. No matter how many times he washed them, they couldn't get soft. The material had just gotten too rough after three years of working in all types of weather. The day they'd get new clothes, he'd be first in line. But that day would probably only happen when pigs flew. Budget cuts... always the same goddamn excuse.

Right... On to number eighty-four.

But as he turned around, Bucky nearly bumped into Lucas, their union rep. He had Simon and three others with him.

"There you are," said the ginger. "Come on. The monthly medical check-up for the fixed crew is up now in the main hall."

Bucky groaned as he followed them. The check-ups were a necessary evil. They handled goods that got distributed nationally while being in contact with sailors who went all over the world. If one of them anchor clankers caught something contagious, like pox, it could cripple more than just the docks. 
He entered the main hall with the others and joined the waiting queue. Lucas walked up to the front, where Bucky caught Doc Walters leaning against a table, casually sipping a cup of coffee. Lazy prick left everything to the nurse again, of course. Quickly, Bucky counted the men ahead of him. Only three to go. With some luck, he could be back at work in a little less than ten minutes.

"Psst, Bucky." Simon tapped his shoulder. "Looks like you're in luck. It's your favorite dame."

Alarmed, Bucky stepped left so he could see for himself. His heart dropped in his shoes when he recognized that fair caramel hair, all pinned up under a white nurse's cap. 

Goddammit, what is she doing here? Why her, of all the nurses in all of Brooklyn?

His fingers closed into a fist, and his nails dug into his palm. He pressed his lips together to keep his calm.

She wants to drive me insane. The docks were the only place I was free of her, and now she's even taking that away from me!

Instantly, Bucky forgot that only just that morning he had been aroused by the very idea of this woman. That was then. Right now, Evelyn Rogers had dared to slither her way onto his stomping ground like the vile serpent she actually was. No way he was gonna put up with it.

"Next is... oh Lord, here we go," said Lucas with a wince. "Bucky Barnes."

Bucky had been so taken in his anger, he hadn't even noticed the line had moved, and he was at the very front. Evelyn's smile faded as she turned to face him. She clicked her tongue and tapped the chair. "Well, don't just stand there. Sit. Or would ya like some help with such basic instructions?"

Simon and the others snickered behind Bucky. His fist trembled. If Evelyn thought she could make a fool of him in front of his colleagues, she had another thing coming.

"Nah, I wouldn't want your venom to rub off on me," he sneered as he walked over to sit down.

"Hey, behave, you two," said Lucas quickly when he saw the other dockers were having a bit too much fun with the banter.

Evelyn scoffed and shook her head. She took his hands in hers. Bucky had to fight the urge to pull them back. 

"Squeeze my hands. Hm, good." She let go. "Been sick lately?"

"No," he answered curtly.

"Experiencing any pain anywhere?"

"No."

She snapped her fingers once at each ear. "Trouble hearing?"

"No."

"Trouble seeing?"

"No."

Evelyn moved her finger from left to right and back. Bucky kept his head still as his eyes traveled with her finger. Next, she took a stethoscope, pushed it right underneath Bucky's open shirt collar, and leaned in to listen. With Evelyn standing close enough now, Bucky took his chance.

"What the hell are you doing here, Blondie?" he demanded in a hushed voice. "We don't have any babies here."

"I beg to differ," said Evelyn, lowering her voice as well. "I'm treating a baby right now."

"Blondie, I swear to God!"

She rolled her eyes at his threatening hiss. "Christ, don't burst out of your pants, James. The previous nurse working here moved away to Queens. I'm replacin' her for now. Breathing and heartbeat are good."

Evelyn stepped around him and pushed his head down forcefully. Bucky cursed under his breath. The next thing he knew, a comb scraped over his scalp to the nape of his neck.

"No lice. You can..." Evelyn's words fell away. "James, take your shirt off."

The sudden change in her voice didn't go unnoticed. Bucky knew Evelyn well enough to know something was wrong. He pulled his shirt over his head and dared to look at the queue of waiting dockers. Some were already growing anxious. Lucas' expression had changed, too. His seriousness was clashing with concern, not just for the dockers, but for a friend. Upon noticing the pregnant silence, Doc Walters finally came their way.

"Something wrong, Nurse Rogers?" he asked.

"He has a rash and some lesions," Evelyn replied.

"It's the clothes," said Bucky. "The material's grown too rough."

"This ain't 'cause of scratchy clothes, son," said the doctor grimly. "Right, everyone still waiting, shirts off now! Those working directly with Mr. Barnes take two steps to your left!"

As Doc Walters checked out the others, Evelyn rumbled in her bag. She gave Bucky a hand mirror over his shoulder. He kept it up to a larger mirror in her own hands behind him and gasped at the reflection. His right shoulder blade and neck were blotted red with several scratches and blisters.

"Evelyn, what is this?" he whispered fearfully.

Her hand clutched his shoulder. Bucky reached up. Evelyn turned her hand so she could take his. She squeezed his fingers encouragingly. Right there, at that moment, Bucky wouldn't have wanted anyone else near him.

***

They said nothing during the entire drive home, though Bucky believed he saw Evelyn glimpsing at him from the corner of her eye. More and more, he got the impression that she seemed genuinely distressed. Her expression changed constantly. Pensive, frustrated, worried... Could it really be that serious?
The docks were placed under a twenty-four-hour quarantine until they got to the bottom of this. Under Lucas' strict and watchful eye, the regular crew had finished the Ceylon shipment while the day workers had been sent off, with his personal guarantee they'd be paid for the full day. Doc Walters and Evelyn had insisted on checking everyone out again for lesions, but found none. It either meant the contagion hadn't spread yet or... something else was going on.

When they finally got to Evelyn and Steve's house, she practically forced Bucky through the door and told him to sit at the kitchen table with his shirt off. Evelyn disappeared into her bedroom, coming out minutes later without her nurse's cap and cardigan on and carrying three books and a stack of journals.

"I have a few ideas on what you may have," she said as she dropped everything on the table. "I'm gonna ask you questions, and you're gonna answer everything truthfully, understand? You need to be one hundred percent honest with me, Bucky, so for everyone's sake, please don't lie to me."

Bucky... She never calls me that. 

"Y-Yeah." Bucky's voice quivered. "Nothin' but the truth, I promise."

"Okay, then." Evelyn opened one of the books. "You remember when the itching started?"

"A couple of weeks ago, maybe."

"Did it grow worse since then?"

"Yeah, come to think of it."

"Are you itching anywhere else?"

"No, just my shoulder."

Evelyn met his gaze again with urgency. "James, if you're only sayin' this 'cause you're embarrassed to strip —"

"Just there, I swear!" assured Bucky hastily.

"Fine." She turned her attention back to the texts on the table. "Any headaches or dizziness?"

"I get lightheaded sometimes."

"Do your muscles ache?"

"I work at the docks, Blondie."

"Answer the question, smartass."

"Yes."

Evelyn leafed through another book while still holding the first. "Hm, your pulse and breathing were normal when I listened to them, but still... Do you ever struggle to catch your breath? Or does your heart go up really fast for no particular reason? Any fever?"

Bucky thought for a moment. He got a pretty bad hit to the chest during his last boxing match three weeks ago, which had made him wheeze for a few days, but that was all cleared up now. It had been years since he'd last been sick, so no fever either. And he didn't feel like his heart was acting up. Unless, of course, you counted...

"Nope, nothin' like that," he said, not wanting to linger on that thought.

Evelyn walked round to look at his back again. When her fingers touched his skin, Bucky swallowed the lump in his dry throat. Contrary to what he'd just claimed, his heart skipped several beats. But it wasn't because of whatever he had.

"Does it hurt?" asked Evelyn in a soft voice.

"No." Bucky glanced over his shoulder. "It's just... uncomfortable."

She nodded and went back to the table to put down her book down and pick up a copy of a bulletin called The Lancet. Bucky had heard her speaking of it a few times. It was one of the best medical journals out there. He hoped the answer was in there. He kept his eyes on Evelyn's face. She was so concentrated. Then her expression changed. 
Evelyn turned The Lancet around to him. Bucky leaned in to read. His eyes widened at the headline. The chair scraped against the floorboards when he pushed himself away from the table and jumped up.

"No, no, I... I can't have... Evelyn, I can't have syphilis! I-I always use a sheath! The only time I didn't was five years ago!"

Evelyn stared at him for a moment. Then she crossed her arms and smacked her lips. "Once is all it takes, James."

"But... i-it was my first time. It all happened so fast, I... I wasn't prepared. Evelyn, please tell me this isn't it! I feel fine! It... It's just an itch, for God's sake!"

Bucky stumbled back, his hands in his hair. This couldn't be happening. He was always so careful. Ever since condoms were getting distributed for free, he always carried some in his wallet, since he didn't want to get caught off guard again. That first time in the back of his truck should never have happened. 

This is a nightmare! How the hell am I gonna explain this to Pops and Becca? I can't —

Evelyn's snorts made Bucky look up. She had her hand clasped over her mouth, and her eyes gleamed with delight. Was she... laughing?

"Oh yeah, I bet you think this is hilarious, don'tcha?" yelled Bucky furiously. "You probably think I deserve this, huh?"

"Maybe just stage one." Evelyn chuckled. "But you don't even have that."

Bucky blinked when her words sunk in. "W-What?" 

"You don't have syphilis. You have this."

She tapped the left page of the journal. Allergies? Bucky raised his eyes to her and then back to the page. So he didn't have... But then...

"You bitch! Why the hell would you make me believe I had syphilis?"

"I never said you did, knucklehead! You assumed it when you read the wrong page!"

He wanted to kill her. Bucky actually wanted to strangle Evelyn with his bare hands. Of all the things they had ever done or said to each other, this was the worst! He was done with her. Completely done. He would tell Steve he couldn't be around her anymore. This was the last straw. A man could only take so much.
Bucky snatched his shirt from the chair and stomped away. But when his fingers closed around the doorknob, Evelyn's hand was suddenly on top of his. He froze. How had he not heard her coming after him?

"Let go." Bucky gritted his teeth.

"No," came the curt reply.

"Dammit, Blondie, you've had your fun! What more do you want?"

"To treat you."

Bucky finally turned to her. She was standing so very close. Too close. He tried to look away but couldn't. Those periwinkle eyes drew him in.

"I'm sorry," said Evelyn. "You're right; I should've said something instead of makin' fun of you. It wasn't nice of me. Now, will you please sit back down? I really need to treat the rash."

Before Bucky could object, she's already guided him back to the table and went to get something from the bathroom. As he waited, Bucky pulled The Lancet to him. It listed all known allergies and their symptoms. And there was talk about this new drug called antihistamine that could actually help against them.
Bucky allowed himself to breathe more easily, releasing some of his anger. When Evelyn returned, he grudgingly said, "I'm... I'm sorry too. I should've paid more attention. And you're not a... what I said."

"Eh, I am sometimes." 

They both chuckled. Their eyes briefly met again, but Bucky quickly cast them back down. Evelyn cleared her throat and opened a jar of a strong-smelling ointment. "This won't cure your rash, but it'll help with the itch and dry up the blisters. I'll getcha a jar from the pharmacy."

She stood behind him, gently spreading the balm over his shoulder blade and neck. Bucky kept his head down and bit his lip. Not because she was hurting him, but because he was trying very hard not to think of all the other parts of his body he wanted Evelyn to touch. But her fingers on him weren't helping, and soon enough, Bucky had to press his legs together. Thank God he sat hunched over and the table surface shielded him, else he'd be in a heap of trouble.

"It was Amanda, wasn't it?"

Bucky's head jerked back up when Evelyn suddenly spoke the name of the girl he had lost his virginity to. How the hell had she guessed that? 

"Thin walls, James," Evelyn said then, answering his silent question. "I hear you and Steve talk in his room sometimes. Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if she turned up somewhere with syphilis. She was always... fickle and very direct, so I get she caught ya unaware. And, um... thank you. For using protection, I mean. Ain't a lot of guys out there that do. It's nice to hear one of you is decent enough to do the right thing. So... thank you."

"Um... you're welcome."

You're welcome? Oh, for the love of God, real swell, Barnes.

"So, what do you think caused it?" asked Bucky, wanting to talk about literally anything else, hoping she hadn't caught his reddening cheeks. "The rash, I mean."

"Well... did you change your work clothes? Or the soap you wash them in?"

"No. What about food? Like it says here."

"Then you would have other symptoms, too. And the rash is only — wait a minute. You don't just handle crates, right? Also sacks and packages? Do you carry them over your shoulder?"

Bucky nodded.

"What have you been carrying lately?" 

"I've been on the Ceylon shipments these past weeks," said Bucky. "Bags of spices."

"You know what the spices are?"

"No, the ledgers are directly given to the foreman on duty. Why?"

"Remember last Christmas Eve?"

Bucky frowned as he tried to recall what had happened then. He'd been so sick that day, sweating and vomiting, and his throat had been so sore. He remembered he had a rash then, too. Everyone else had eaten the same thing he had, and he had only worked admin the days leading up to Christmas. It'd gotten worse after Rebecca made his cocoa, which had been weird since it was the usual brand they always had at home during the holidays. But then Evelyn had found out his sister had put something in the cocoa and the sauce for the sweet potatoes. A sweet spice from Ceylon from the market called...

"Cinnamon." Bucky raised his head. "I got sick from cinnamon. But I ain't sick now."

"You didn't ingest any of it now." Evelyn stopped rubbing his back — why? — and took his shirt. Bucky watched as she held it close to her face to sniff it. "Yep, cinnamon. Very faint, but it's there. Lousy spices, unbelievable... You guys have to know what you're handlin' out there. I'll talk to Lucas and Doc Walters. They can use this as an example to advocate for the health and safety of the dockers. And don't you dare wear this again. You can borrow one of my dad's shirts; Momma kept some. One sec."

She again went into her bedroom. Bucky got up, exhaling in relief. But when he did, he accidentally bumped against the table, and some journals fell on the floor. He moved to pick them up, but then something caught his eye.
The paper lay buried underneath all the copies of The Lancet. In his rush that morning, Bucky hadn't had the time to read it yet. His breath caught when he read the section on the front page reserved for letters to the editors. Today's was 'A midwife's opinion on the abortion law.' Signed by Evelyn Rogers.

"Found one!" She skipped back to the kitchen. "Might be a little big for ya, but it's better than —"

"What's this?"

Bucky pulled out the newspaper and held it out to Evelyn. She gave him a confused look, but then her expression hardened when she realized what he was talking about. 

"You can read, can'tcha?" she spat.

"Of all the stupid... Blondie, you went through with it? After I warned you not to? What the hell were you thinking? Do you wanna lose everything you worked for? You ever thought about what this could do to you? To Steve?"

"Steve's got nothin' to do with this!"

"That doesn't matter! You know how people are around here!"

"Exactly! I know the people! I know the women and the girls, the men and the boys! I see with my own eyes what happens if things go on as they are now! But of course, you don't! You're about as blind as a bat to the actual problems in our neighborhood! All you care about is your next date! Ask Bonnie to take care of you 'cause I'm done with you, you idiot ass! Now get out! JUST GET OUT RIGHT NOW!"

"GLADLY!"

Bucky crossed the distance between them, completely taken over by mad furor, and snagged her father's shirt away. Evelyn gasped indignantly and raised her hand. But this time, Bucky was ready. He caught her wrist in mid-air and shoved her against the kitchen wall before she could smack him with the other hand.
Evelyn could have cried out for help then. She could have kicked him, scratched him, or done anything to get him off. But all she did was gun Bucky down with a threatening stare, her eyes filled with rage. And yet, underneath all that, Bucky saw something else. Something he had never really seen in Evelyn before because she hid it so well — fear. 

"I won't be there to help you this time, Blondie," he slowly backed away. "You can clean this mess up yourself."

"Help me?" she repeated, flustered. "When have you ever... James? James!"

But Bucky was already out the door, slamming it shut behind him. A chill ran over him as he stood on the porch. He didn't want the neighbors to get the wrong impression, so he quickly put on the blue shirt. That's when he heard soft sobbing noises from inside the house.
Bucky moved to the window. Even through the sheer curtains, he perceived Evelyn sitting against the wall with her knees pulled up and her head down. He never thought the sight of her crying would break his heart.