Bucky shouldn't have been surprised. He's been expecting something like this for months. But, still, when he sees the paper on the table, with Steve's name on it and a big 4F stamp, a shock cuts through him. And it hurts. It hurts in his jaw where he clenches it, in his shoulders, the way they stiffen.

In the thrill of panic that clenches his heart.

He grabs the paper and storms through the apartment, out onto the fire escape.

She's there, like always. She's perched on the iron railing, sketchbook balanced on her knobby little knees, drawing.

Bucky clenches his fist and reminds himself how bad it'd be to punch her while she's up there. "What the hell is this?" he asks, crawling through the window. He waves the paper at her.

Stevie doesn't look up. "My application to the Army. Rejected on the basis of being a sickly little runt too weak for anyone to want."

"I can't believe you."

"You surprised I had more guts than you?"

"Don't," he snaps harshly. He wants to say something stupid, like if it wasn't for her, he would have joined up months ago. But he doesn't. Because he doesn't want to put that on her, doesn't want her to think that he's trying to protect her or coddle her or anything. Just like he doesn't want her to know how much he worries about her when she's perched on the railing or has an asthma attack or gets in a fight with some bully in a back alley.

She doesn't want him to worry, and she'd probably punch him if he did.

So, instead he says, "You applied as a man."

"What did you expect?" She looks up at him, jaw set. She's ready for a fight.

"You could be arrested, Stevie."

"I risk it every day."

"But this is the Army. The military. They ain't like the slags at school or work. They don't like it when they're lied to, especially about little things like if you're a boy or a girl."

She slid off the railing and landed with a thump that made the platform vibrate. "It ain't lying if the rules ain't fair in the first place!"

He crumples the application in his fist. "They're not going to see it that way, Steve! They aren't gonna care about anything except that you don't have the right equipment down there! That's all that matters! You go in lying to them about what you are, and they're gonna lock you away! And they'll do stuff to you! Make you grow your hair and put on a dress and act like a dame!"

"Like the military doesn't have more important things to worry about," Stevie scoffs. She pushes past him and climbs through the window back into the apartment.

Bucky follows her, wondering if he could strangle her with one hand. "You know what they do to queers."

"I'm not a queer." She puts her sketchpad on the table. Turned. "And what does this matter? I got turned down. They said no, they don't want me. So it's over."

He narrows his eyes. "That's it?"

"What else can I do?" She says it with a straight face, but her eyes cut over Bucky's shoulder, and she's still got that stubborn look on her face.

"You've already lied once. What's to stop you from doing it again?"

She doesn't say anything, just keeps glaring.

He sighs. "Why can't you just apply for the women's corps? They might take you. Maybe the health requirements aren't as demanding."

"Women aren't allowed to fight."

"So you don't fight. You trying to say what they do isn't as important? Cause I bet they don't feel the same way."

Stevie just shakes her head. "I'm not saying that it's not important. But I need to be on the front lines, Bucky. I need to be in the 107th, like my dad. I belong there. Mom raised me like this for a reason."

"Your mom let you run around like a boy because she hoped you might get stronger that way, not so you could go get shot in Europe!"

"It's fate! She might have thought she was doing it to help me get out of the hospital and into the world, but this is why! This is what I was meant to do!"

"You sound like damn delusional little girl, Steve!" Bucky shouts.

Her face goes white. Without a word, she storms past him, shoulder knocking into his. She stumbles at the impact, but catches herself. Runs out of the main room into their tiny closet of a bedroom and slams the door shut.

Bucky swears. He shoves the crumpled application into his coat pocket and leaves the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Goddamn Stevie and her fucking aspirations. Why couldn't she just be happy with who she was? Yeah, she was skinny and sickly and always getting pounded on by bullies, but she was also brilliant and talented and the best friend Bucky had ever had. The bravest and most loyal, too.

He'd been dreading this day for months. Ever since the war in Europe had started escalating, he knew what was going to happen. Even before Stevie started talking about it, Bucky knew. Because she was his best friend, his oldest friend, and he knew her better than he knew anyone else.

Even if he hadn't always known.

They'd met when they were fifteen. Bucky had been living at the Saint Vincent's Home for Boys for two years. Steve's mother had died a few months before and, having no relatives, he'd been accepted into the school.

Steve was always an odd duck. He looked like he was five years younger than the other boys his age, was skinny and sickly. He always had his nose in his sketchpad and earned the animosity of the other boys by being ten times smarter than anyone. On his first day, he managed to get on the wrong side of Joe Jacobs, who took advantage of the athletic programs the home had to offer while completely missing out on the educational aspects.

Bucky stood with the other boys, watching for almost ten minutes while Steve took a beating from Joe. Steve never once cried out and never once stopped fighting back. He never landed a punch or a kick, but he fought with more heart than Bucky had ever seen.

It'd been when Bucky had heard the wheezes coming from that painfully thin chest that he stepped in. He just stepped right up, grabbed Joe, and socked him in the face. The bully went down, and Steve and Bucky were friends for life.

Sometimes, Bucky wonders what his life woulda turned out to be like if he'd just let Steve get pounded. If he'd never stepped in. Things would have turned out differently. Easier.

Not better.

He doesn't regret it, even now when he's so angry, he can't breathe. The anger just sits in his chest, all twisted up and tight, choking him.

He pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pockets. Shakes one out and lights up.

They'd been best friends for two months before Bucky had found out. At fifteen, he was almost aging out of the system, and no way he was headed for college, not like Steve was. So, Bucky had a job, part-time, that kept him out late.

Okay, so the job wasn't what kept him out late. Dancing with the girls was really what kept him out past lights out, but a guy needed to unwind after a long day, didn't he?

He signed himself in and headed up to the showers. Most everyone was in bed, but he could hear a shower running.

Somehow, Bucky wasn't surprised when he saw the too-skinny form of his friend under the shower. Steve's back was to the door, his blond hair dark gold and plastered to his head.

But he was still wearing his underwear. Not a top, just his shorts, which were sopping wet and hanging heavily off his slim hips.

Bucky bit back a chuckle and quickly stripped. As quietly as he could, he crept across the slick tile floor. Held his breath until he was directly behind Steve and reached out.

Steve screeched as his shorts were yanked down. He spun, arm shooting out. But he slipped backwards, arms pinwheeling, legs slipping out from beneath him. He landed on his bottom with a big splash and loud thump.

Bucky doubled over laughing. "You should have seen yourself! God, Steve, you…." His voice trailed off as his brain caught up with what his eyes were seeing.

Steve grabbed at his… her… his… her shorts, one hand belatedly shooting down to cover up what wasn't there. And what was. She yanked her underwear back up over her hips. She blushed furiously, her skin was red from her hairline down her neck to her skinny chest.

"Steve…"

She got to her feet. Pushed past Bucky.

He let her go, too shocked to do anything else. He just stood there, trying to process what he had just seen. Because it couldn't be… it was impossible…

It was the same face he'd seen every day for the past two months. Same neck. Even the same chest, 'cause Steve had never been shy about stripping off her shirt to change at the end of the day. And it wasn't like she had boobs or nothing. She looked like a boy.

Except she didn't have a penis.

"Please tell me you had a terrible accident as a kid. Or you're not even the tiniest bit proportional," Bucky said, turning around.

She'd pulled on her pants over her wet underwear. Her shirt was halfway buttoned, and all he could do was stare at her chest. 'Cause, now that he was looking, he saw what he missed before. Had written off before. How, just around her nipples, it was kinda soft. How there was just the tiniest bit of extra skin where, maybe, if she wasn't so skinny, if she wasn't so sick all the time, maybe it would almost look like breasts.

She finished buttoning her shirt. Yanked her suspenders over her shoulders. "What are you going to do about it?"

"What am I gonna do about it? Steve… this is a boys' home! You're a... a…"

"I'm not!"

"What? What I just see then?"

"I don't…." She rubbed her hands over her face and let out a loud growl. "I…"

He came to a decision. It was abrupt, but really, very clear. "We gotta get out of here. Right now. Come on." Decision made, Bucky went to her. Grabbed her by her wrist and started to drag her from the shower.

"Bucky! Bucky, stop!" She pulled at him with all her weight, feet digging into the floor, trying to pull him back.

"No, this is what we gotta do."

"You're naked!"

He stopped. Looked down at himself.

"Oh. Okay. Clothes first."

He'd dressed. They'd left the home and started walking. Just wandered around the streets of Brooklyn, rambling passed closed up shops and empty lots. Not even watching where they were going, too intent on each other.

He was aware of her like he'd never been aware of anyone. Of the way she breathed, of the little wheezes when they went too fast. The way her hands were a little too big for her body, and how they clenched and loosened over and over, like she didn't know what to do with them.

Bucky finally stopped. Pushed her into an alley, against the wall. "Talk."

She looked up at him, and he wondered if her eyes had always been that blue. That big. It was like she was this alien instead of the kid who'd been stuck to his side for two months. But then her jaw set in a familiar way and something in Bucky relaxed, knowing it was still Steve.

"What do you want to know?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm Steve Rogers."

"You were born that?"

She hesitated. Shook her head. "Stephanie. But I was named after my dad. I've always been called Stevie, even before."

"Before what? Why are you pretending to be a guy?"

"I'm not pretending. I'm not… I'm not anything. I just…" She licked her bottom lip. "I was sick a lot when I was a kid."

"You're sick a lot now."

"Yeah, but sicker. Like, always in the hospital, sicker. The doctors didn't think I'd make it. They thought I was too frail to even get out of bed. They wanted me to stay there my whole life. But my mom, she thought maybe that was the trouble. That all that rest was keeping me from getting stronger. She thought, well. Maybe if I got to run around and play rough like the boys, I'd be healthier. You know, outside, in the sun."

"You're allergic to outside."

"Yeah, but I was allergic to inside. She thought it might help. My dad had just died. We were on our own and had to move. So, she cut my hair and dressed me like a boy. When we moved to our new place, she told everyone I was her son. She'd send me outside to play with the other boys. And it worked. I mean, I still sick, but I was out, playing. Having fun. I wasn't dying any more. It just sort of stuck."

"You've been pretending your whole life?"

She shrugged. "I don't think there's actually a lot difference between dames and fellas. I've never felt wrong being a boy. I never felt like I was pretending."

He turned that over in his mind. It didn't make sense. Dames were… soft and fragile and smelled nice. They did their hair and put on lipstick and, well, weren't dirty and perverted like Bucky was.

Blood drained from his face as he thought about some of the stuff he'd said in front of Steve before. Things about dames and what he'd like to do to them. And, oh God, he'd had that magazine that he'd showed Steve and…

"What's wrong?" Steve asked.

"You're a girl, that's what's wrong. And I… I said things to you." And then his head spun. "You saw me naked."

Steve's cheeks colored. She looked away from him, shoving her hands into her pockets. "It's no big deal. It ain't nothing I haven't seen before."

"What?"

"Come on, Bucky. I'm fifteen years old. I've been around guys my whole life. Things are gonna get seen. It's not something to get all worked up about."

"But you're a girl!"

"I'm the same person I was yesterday! I was a girl yesterday, and I've seen people naked. Guys naked. It happens. It's not like I was… I don't know. It's not a big deal."

"You were wearing shorts."

Her blush deepened. "I'm used to what fellas look like, but you're not used to me. I'm not stupid. I know I'm not a guy. But I can't suddenly switch to living like a dame. It's not who I am."

"Who are you?"

"Steve Rogers." She shrugged. "I'm not a dame. I'm not a man. I'm just… I'm me. And I'm not going to change." She bit her lip and ducked her head. "You gonna turn me in?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Steve Rogers was clearly a woman. She didn't have anything between her legs (well, she clearly had something, but Bucky was not going to think about it).

But. He couldn't imagine her in a dress. Or wearing lipstick or heels. He couldn't imagine her as being anything than what he was: a short, skinny little scarecrow wearing clothes that didn't quite fit, being smarter than everyone around her, and picking fights with guys four times her size.

Bucky looked at her. She was staring up at him, eyes big and hopeful. Like she trusted him to do the right thing. Like the right thing was easy and clear.

Maybe it was to her. Doing the right thing seemed to come naturally.

She was going to get creamed by the world. Wide-eyed idealists always did, man or woman. They needed someone to take care of them.

"No. I'm not going to tell. Who would I?"

"The people in charge."

"Well, you ain't going back there. That's a boys' home."

"Gee, Buck I'd have never pinned you as such a stickler," Steve said flatly, voice dry.

Bucky shook his head. "Look, you be used to living like a boy, but sooner or later, someone else is going to notice. They're going to walk in on you in the shower or something. They'll find out. And they ain't gonna react so well."

"You call that reacting well?"

"I'm not running to the authorities, am I?"

"You're kicking me out of my home."

"Ah, we only had a few months left living there anyway. I've got a job. I'll see if I can go full time and quit school. We'll move out and get our own place."

"Bucky, you can't quit school!"

"I'm not the one with brains here, Steve. You got to stay at school. I'll work. Maybe you'll get something part-time. We'll scrape by."

Steve gaped at him. "This is crazy."

"Sometimes, the only option is the crazy one." He draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her. "Come on, Stevie. Let's say goodbye to Saint Vincent's Home for Boys."

And that's what they did. At first, they barely scrapped by. They lived in one room slums, sharing a bed. They ate scraps. They counted every penny, and Stevie threatened to quit school more times than Bucky could count. But, they made it. Stevie got into college on an arts scholarship, Bucky got better and better jobs, and soon, they were living clear.

And then the war picked up in Europe. And talk started about America going to war. And, then they did.

And now Stevie wants to go off to war and get herself killed.

Bucky takes one last, vicious drag of cigarette and drops it to the ground.

He doesn't know why he's so upset. He knew this was coming. And it wasn't like everyone they know isn't running off to join up. Everyone was going. And Stevie's always admired her father so much. She used to talk about him, about what a hero he was, about how she wanted to be like him.

But it was crazy. She could pass as a man, did pass as a man. But the military was different. If she joined up, someone was going to notice eventually. Boot camp alone would be impossible to get through without people asking questions. Like, why didn't Steve take off his shorts to shower? And what happened to his dick?

She hadn't thought it through. Bucky was sure of that. All she saw was a chance to prove herself to the memory of a father she'd barely known.

The apartment is dark when he gets back. He almost hops that means he could avoid the inevitable confrontation, but he's hardly closed the door behind him before Stevie is standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

He lets out a long breath, shoulders slumping.

"Done throwing your fit?" Stevie asks.

"I'm just trying to make you see reason. People have limitations and you should accept yours."

"What I have or don't have between my legs shouldn't be a limitation."

Bucky rubs his eyes. "If it was just that, I wouldn't say anything. But you're not healthy. You weigh like two pounds, and, yet, somehow your arms can't support your weight enough to do a pushup. What's going to happen to you in the trenches? You'll waste away, if some lung disease doesn't take you out first. You're not be rational."

"It's something I gotta do. I guess I don't expect you to understand, but, Bucky. This isn't a choice for me. It just… it is."

He gets it. He does, really. Not the war part. He knows he's going to join up eventually if the war keeps escalating. Doesn't know if he'll be drafted or volunteer or what, but he can read the writing on the wall.

But he gets the part about it not being a choice. Just like when he'd found out about Steve. Deciding to stick with her, that hadn't been a choice. It just was.

"You really going to try again? Lying on your application is illegal."

She cracks a grin. "Well, in for a penny, right?"

Bucky shakes his head. He pushes past her into the bedroom, clapping her on the shoulder as he goes. "You sure you've thought this through?"

"Well, they didn't reject me for being a girl, just 'cause of my health. I can figure something…"

"Not applying. What you'll do after that?" He hangs up his jacket and loosens his tie, sitting on the bed. "How are you going get through training and, I don't know, war without anyone noticing?"

Comprehension dawns on Stevie's face. She nods and goes to the bureau they share. Opening her drawer, she digs through before pulling something out.

Bucky shoots off the bed, eyes wide. "Whoa, Steve. Where the hell did you get that?"

That is a four inch phallus thing. Steve holds it without any trace of embarrassment in her face, but it was almost more than Bucky could take, seeing her hold a fake penis in her small hand.

"I made it. I figure I strap it around under my shorts. It's hollow and has a tube in it, so I can go through it. I'll figure out the rest when I get there." She holds it out. "Want to feel it? It feels real."

"How do you know?" Bucky practically shouts. It ain't like she's ever touched him; Stevie likes dames and would never give a shmuck like him the time of day (not that he'll ever try, because she deserves better), but if she's touching some other guy's dick…"

Stevie laughs. She puts the fake penis away, laughing so hard her shoulders shake. "God, Buck, your face! Your eyes looked like they were going to pop from your face." She falls onto the bed, arms wrapped around her stomach, laughing.

He shakes his head. His heart is still beating kinda funny from imagining her with another guy (not that he wants to see her with a dame, but dames were strange creatures and none of them had fallen for her yet, so…). Reaching into his pocket for a cigarette, he sinks down onto the bed. "Christ, Steve. You really are the limit." He lights up and lays back on the pillows.

She lays next to him. "You don't have to worry so much, you know," she says. "I can take care of myself."

He blows out a smoke ring. Doesn't answer.

Stevie sighs. "I don't want you to go off and win the war without me."

"I'm not going. Not if I don't have to."

"Yeah, you are. You may not know it yet, Bucky, you are. Sooner or later. If you're not drafted, then you'll volunteer, and it'll just be me."

"I thought you said you don't need me around."

She scoots closer to him on the bed. "I said you don't need to worry about me. Not that I don't want you around." She pokes him in the side. "You're not all that bad company."

"Wish I could say the same," he says, poking her back. "Wanna go catch a film tomorrow night?"

"I thought you were seeing that dame. Daisy?"

Oh, right. Her. "Ah, she's a nice dame and all. I'll probably see her again." Not entirely a lie. "She's got a friend."

Stevie snorts. "I'm tired of it all. No dames ever want me. Especially not once they see you. And worrying about the whole, you know, telling them and being honest…"

"You don't need to tell a girl everything just to dance with them."

"Just doesn't feel right. Dancing with anyone if they don't know what they're getting. And it's not important. Not right now."

I know what I'm getting, Bucky's tempted to say. I know exactly what I'm getting, from head to tail.

But, like always, he keeps quiet. Because Stevie's his best friend and he doesn't want to lose her just because he's in love with her.

Some things are more important than that.

#