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A Hurricane

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1922, June 10th.

A young, frail blonde boy sat on a curb underneath his apartment's fire escape. The boy had bruises on his face, and blood streaking down from his ear.
He presumably had gotten himself in to yet another fight against the two older alpha pups in the neighborhood.
The boy sniffs, holding back his tears as he stares down at his small hands; bruised and bloodied.

"Look out!" A voice shouts, as an older boy with dark hair, riding a bicycle rather half-hazardously through the path of almost hitting the small blonde boy.
The blonde dives out of the way of the bike, scraping his knees in the process. The blonde hisses, looking up to see the brunette rushing over to him,
" What'dya think you were doin'!?" The blonde struggles to get up on his feet. The brunette extends his hand out to the blonde helping him up. The blonde grumbles taking the taller boy's hand.
" Bikin'. What're doin' on the ground any how?" The boy deadpans. The blonde flushes, and mumbles, "Nothin'.."
"D'nt look like nothin'."
"Well, it was! Whats'it to you any ways"
The brunette scans the small skinny blonde, "Well, if I hadn't caused you 'nuff trouble," motioning to his knees, "I'da thought ya just got 'yer ass whooped."
"Did not!" The blonde flushes red again.
The brunette holds his hands up in mock surrender with a smirk played out on his face,
"Alright, Alright." He grimaces at the blood running down the blonde's knees, "Atleast 'lemme help ya out with 'yer battle wounds."
The blonde grumbles, "Don't need help."
"Wasn't askin,'" The brunette replies sharply.
The blonde whimpers a bit, "Fine." he motions the brunette to move along.
The tall boy nods, "My Ma can help 'ya out. She's got all sorts ah medical tools. Me 'n my kid sister, always in trouble." the brunette chuckles.
The blonde lifts his eyebrow, looking at the brunette with confusion.
"What'd they call 'ya anyways? Name's James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky." The brunette gives a toothy grin, as he rolls his bike along the sidewalk.
"Bucky? Hell kinda name is that?" The blonde asks, furrowing his brows. "Short 'fer Buchanan." "Yikes... 'm Steve. Steve Rogers."
"No kiddin'? Is 'yer ma a nurse? Short, blonde, sweet as can be, but sorta scary?" Bucky shivers at the last bit.
Steve nods, "Yep, that's 'er all right." he chuckles a bit.
"Ya think with a punk like yer'self wouldn't get so beaten up with 'yer Ma as a nurse." Bucky quips, as he opens a gate, leaning his bike against the fence.
Steve flushes red once again, "Jerk..." Bucky just laughs, leading Steve up to his porch.