"That uniform looks good on you. But could you at least wear your hat straight? The way you—"
"I know, right? The tilted look is cool, isn't it? I knew it! Bruce, we've got the same taste!"
"No. I think it looks terrible. Sorry Bucky, you know I always tell the truth..."
"..."
In the afternoon sun at an open-air café, Bruce sat dressed in a fitted dark suit, sipping coffee while teasing the young man across from him, clearly in good spirits.
"Oh come on Bruce. You're so old-fashioned. This style drives the girls wild!" James Buchanan Barnes shrugged and picked up his coffee cup with a smirk.
"Alright, alright... So what have you been up to these past six months?" Asked Bruce.
"Wow, Mr. Busy actually cares about me now? I thought you'd forgotten Steve and me completely..."
Hearing his friend's exaggerated complaint, Bruce couldn't help but rub his nose and laugh, "You know how it is. The company keeps me occupied."
Five years earlier, just six months after unlocking the Batsuit, frequent injuries and nighttime absences had led Bruce and Alfred to establish a canned food company as cover.
Unexpectedly, this long-neglected 'canned goods tycoon' persona had finally proven useful today.
Bucky drained his coffee and smacked his lips, then nostalgically said, "Remember in winter, when we'd huddle around a fire in the little park roasting potatoes or corn, and talking all day? And the summers... We had so much more to do. We used to go to the beach all the time, right? Mostly because that's where all the girls in swimsuits were..."
Bruce lowered his head with a quiet smile, nodding slightly at the memory.
Bucky continued, "One time, you rented a car to drive along the shore, but that Ford broke down halfway. We had to push it back to the rental place... That was so exhausting... I still remember that day because we never went to the beach together again after that."
Bruce's smile faded as he studied his friend.
Bucky had filled out more, the boyish softness gone from his face, replaced by a man's determination.
Suddenly, Bruce saw them all again... eighteen-year-old versions of himself, Steve, and Bucky, laughing as they teased shy girls on the beach.
"I know we all have to grow up. I just didn't expect it to happen so fast. Look at us... I'm enlisting, you're some big-shot executive, Steve is teaching art while still trying to get his work published..." Bucky trailed off, then gave an apologetic smile, "Sorry, I don't know why I'm getting sentimental. It's just..."
Bruce shook his head gently, "Don't apologize. Since when do you hold back with me? You, me, and Steve... we're brothers... We always will be."
Bucky's lips parted, then curved into his usual easy grin, "Thanks Bruce."
"No need. Hey, we'll always be those three sixteen-year-olds from Brooklyn. No matter what happens, I've got your back."
A fist extended. Another met it with the same solid thump as their youth.
No words needed. This was their language.
"Wait– where's Steve?" Bruce scratched his head, looking around.
Bucky suddenly remembered, "Oh right! He said last night he was catching a movie this afternoon. He's probably running late. I was supposed to meet him after this."
"A movie?" Bruce's eyes darted between Bucky's army uniform and the mental image of Steve at a theater.
His expression changed. Tossing bills on the table, he hauled Bucky up, "Take me to that theater now! If we're late, Steve's gonna get his face rearranged again!"
"Huh? Rearranged?"
"Or maybe kicked into next week." Bruce helpfully elaborated...
.....
"You never know when to give up, do you?" The tall youth sneered down at the smaller figure.
"I can do this all day."
The skinny teen threw a textbook-perfect punch, only to be knocked flat by a single counterblow.
A hand clamped the tall guy's shoulder from behind.
"Hey! Pick on someone your own size!"
Before he could react, the bully was spun around and met Bucky's fist to his gut, followed by a kick that sent him sprawling.
"Had enough fun, Bucky?"
"Nah, this guy boring. Let's check on Steve."
"Oh—!" A polished shoe suddenly appeared in the bully's vision.
Then he was hoisted up by the collar to face Bruce who was now a towering broad-shouldered man nearly 1.9 meters tall.
Bruce cracked his neck with a grin, "My friend's done his part. Now it's my turn."
As pained yelps echoed behind them, Bucky helped Steve up and sighed, "Sometimes I think you enjoy getting punched."
The smaller youth touched his swelling eye stubbornly, "I had him backed into a corner once." Peering down the alley, he called, "That's enough Bruce. Let him go."
With a final flick to the bully's forehead, Bruce sent him stumbling away, then turned to his friends, "You're still stubborn as ever. But you're still too soft, Pipsqueak."
Steve dusted himself off, smiling weakly, "I don't want you becoming bullies either. What would that make us?"
Bucky picked up Steve's dropped papers, groaning, "How many times is this? 'From Paramus' now?"
Bruce leaned against the wall, "Falsifying enlistment records is illegal, y'know."
Steve glanced between them sheepishly before noticing Bucky's uniform, "You got in?"
Bucky grinned, puffing out his chest, "Sergeant James Barnes, 107th Infantry. Shipping out to England tomorrow."
"Showoff..."
Bruce's muttered jab wiped the smile off Bucky's face:
"Hey!"
Steve looked down, equal parts happy for his friend and also envious, "I should be going too..."
Bruce and Bucky exchanged a look. Each slung an arm around Steve, steering him toward the street.
"Come on, pal. It's the last night before my deployment!" Said Bucky
"Which means we're fixing your problem tonight!" Bruce added.
Steve blinked, "What? Where are we going?"
"Dinner!"
"The future!"
"Uh–"
"Fine, the future."
Bruce amended under Bucky's glare.
Steve unfolded the newspaper that Bucky shoved at him.
"1943 'World Exposition of Tomorrow'?"