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1943
Age twenty-six
(Bucky and Steve, 27)

1943Age twenty-six(Bucky and Steve, 27)

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꧁꧂

WALKING DOWN THE sidewalk of Brooklyn, me and my brother make our way back home from our military base.

We had just gotten our orders. Yeah, that's right. I was trained and made an agent of the U.S. army. One of the first females to ever accomplish this.

I straighten the invisible wrinkles of my uniform. It looks kind of like Bucky's, just more feminine.

"We should let Steve know that we received our orders, he'll want to know." I point out.

"Yeah, I guess. I don't think he's going to be too fond of the fact that we're leaving tomorrow morning."

"No, I guess not."

Fists hitting skin and metal clashing draws our attention away from our walk and to the racket.

"Speak of the devil." He mutters.

"It may not be him." I defend, but I also have my doubts.

We make our way down the alleyway behind the theater, checking out who's causing all the ruckus.

"Hey! Pick on someone your own size." Bucky grabs the attacker, throwing him away from the victim.

The man tries to throw a punch at Bucky, but I answer him with a fist in his jaw. Buck slams his boot in the guy's behind, throwing him away. The guy makes a run for it, not bothering to look behind him.

I turn around to look at Steve hunched over and leaning against a fence.

"Sometimes I think you like getting punched." Bucky teases, walking over to where Steve and I are.

"I had him on the ropes." That's what he always says.

Stevie groans, holding his eye. I pick up the enlistment form he dropped, sighing exasperated. "How many times is this?" I question.

"Oh, you're from Paramus now?" Buck looks over my shoulder, teasing Steve further.

"You know it's illegal to lie on the enlistment form." I mildly scold the beaten up blonde.

Steve continues to brush himself off, finally looking up at us dressed in our uniforms.

"And seriously, Jersey?" I push Bucky slightly to get ahold of himself.

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