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There’s a change in the air, Steve can feel it. Maybe it’s just a part of growing up, or maybe it’s something else, something bigger, but all Steve knows is that his world is shifting.
Bucky’s grown another three inches this year, and between running track and working part time for his uncle on the docks, his body has gone from fit-but-kinda-scrawny to lean and muscled. Steve’s been on the receiving end of Bucky’s proud display of a new arm or ab muscle more than a few times.
Steve’s still the same height he’s been for two years and he hasn’t weighed himself lately, but knowing his luck, he’s probably lost a pound or two. And he doesn’t have any extra pounds to give. Sometimes just watching Bucky run at a track meet makes Steve fight for breath. Although he’s not sure that his junked lungs are completely to blame for that one.
“Steve,” Bucky says, pushing on Steve’s arm, nearly toppling him off of the stool he’s sitting on. “You off on another planet again, there, Stevie?”
“I was just thinking. You should try it sometime,” Steve regains his balance, at least on his chair, and looks over at Bucky. There’s a tiny smear of mustard on Bucky’s lower lip from the hot dog he’s just finished. Steve grabs a napkin from the counter and tosses it toward him. “And maybe clean yourself up while you’re at it.”
“You’re a pal. What would I do without you?”
Bucky wipes his mouth and Steve looks away, looks at their reflection in the mirror behind the counter. “I don’t want to even think about that.”
“Yeah, me either.” Bucky hooks his arm around Steve’s shoulder and pulls him closer, smiling at their reflection.
The flutter Steve feels in his chest isn’t new. Some things, he realizes, will never change.