Chapter Text
'Hello?'
'Steve? It's Bucky.'
A 9-year-old Steve Rogers held the far-too-big telephone receiver to his ear and grinned to himself as he sat on the floor by the telephone table. Even though they'd seen each other mere hours earlier at school, it gave Steve a warm feeling to hear Bucky's voice. 'Hey Buck, what's up?'
'Just wondering if you fancy going camping this weekend. Nothing special, ya know, just me and my dad, and he said I could bring one friend if I wanted so... I thought I'd ask you.'
The warm feeling spread. Steve had never had a friend like Bucky; to be honest, Steve had never had many friends, but Bucky was definitely special. The conversation they were having would have been fairly standard to most of the kids in Steve's class, but to Steve it was so much more. The thing was, Steve wasn't used to being first. He was never first to be picked in sports because other kids were bigger than him, never first in the lunch queue because other kids could run there faster than him, never asked for a dance at the school disco at all simply because he wasn't one of the cool kids. But it was different with Bucky; Steve was his first choice every time, and that meant so much to his skinny little friend. Bucky didn't need to be told the worth of their friendship; he knew. And they didn't make a big deal out of it either. Just having it was enough. This unspoken mutual appreciation made Steve's heart clench in anticipation of their next adventure together.
He called through to his mother to ask permission.
'Mum says it's fine.' He was sure Bucky could hear the grin in his voice.
'Awesome,' came Bucky's reply, cool as ever. 'We'll swing by and pick you up around 5 on Friday.'
'Sounds good.'
'See you around, Rogers.'
Spaghetti hoops had never tasted as good as they did that Friday evening, huddled round a small bonfire sat on logs and wrapped in blankets. Bucky and Steve shared a tin as they sang a whole variety of Scout songs that Steve had learned (but never had much of a use for seeing as he couldn't afford a uniform - Bucky had taught them to him the evening when Steve had found out he couldn't join the Scout group which Bucky had been going to for half a year. He'd sat sniffling in his bedroom and his friend had serenaded him with slightly out of tune campfire songs, and as they sat round their own reciting them once more, it felt like Steve had always been a Scout too).
After their dinner, the duo retired to the little two-man tent they'd set up earlier with the help of Bucky's father. They shuffled into their respective sleeping bags and lay down facing each other, a torch between them.
They stayed awake talking late into the night, sharing tales of adventures, heroes and villains, and even the odd scary story. Bucky was particularly good at telling the scary ones, Steve thought, and he even used the torch for dramatic effect. There were re-enactments for one particularly animated retelling of a tale involving a shark, a mermaid and a Tyrannosaurus Rex, and Steve laughed and gasped just when he was meant to (he could tell by the smirk on his friend's face).
But eventually the time came when the adult told them to turn out the light and get some sleep, so they sat whispering for another while longer before quieting down.
'Buck, what's that noise?' Steve whispered into the dark, pulling his sleeping bag up a little and gripping the edge with white knuckles.
'Those'll be cicadas,' Bucky replied. 'Nothing to worry about, just make a bit of a racket that's all.'
Despite Bucky's presence and reassurances, suddenly Steve could only think of all the bugs that must be crawling around on the forest floor all around them and what things nastier than cicadas could be lurking out in the shadows. 'Bucky, I'm scared.'
'Don't be, you're perfectly safe. I'm here,' he soothed, shuffling closer to his friend and wrapping an arm around him. Steve instinctively snuggled into the safety of him.
'I'll protect you Stevie, don't worry. Together we can get through anything.'