from the aus to consider: "we live in different countries and got paired up as pen pals for a project for school" bc all my friends are long distance and i'm a sucker for pen pals. ps. i rlly love your fics but i am too Shy™ to come off anon
SORRY THIS TOOK A MONTH!!
How are you? My name is Steve. I’m nine and go to school in Brooklyn, New York. Why are you named Bucky? How is Indiana? My teacher says my letter has to be a page long, which is why I am asking so many questions. She also said I could not talk about the Dodger’s last game because you probably didn’t watch it. Can you read my handwriting? My mom says I don’t have good handwriting, which makes me sad. But I do spell really well. Do you speak other languages? I don’t. My mom can speak Spanish and I will start learning Spanish next year. Please write to me and soon. I am excited to talk to someone so far away!
Hi, I am good, thank you for asking. I’m Bucky and I live in Moscow, Russia. I am American but my dad works for the government and they moved us here two years ago. I don’t always like it in Russia. I used to live in Indiana. I didn’t watch the Dodgers game because my family roots for the Cubs. They lose a lot. I think you have fine handwriting. I also speak some Russian but not a lot. I mostly can ask questions about where the bathroom is. I have a cat named Milky. She’s white. Do you have any pets? I want to hear from you soon, even though we only had to write the one letter for class. Can you send me a picture? I sent you one of me by a museum in Russia.
So that’s how it starts.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA!!! 🎉🎉🎉
Don’t you mean ‘have a very happy eighteenth birthday Steve, light of my life’?
No, I mean happy birthday America. Don’t put words in my mouth, Steve. We’ve been friends for nine years. You should know better.
Wow Buck. Thanks for ruining my birthday.
RUDE. I was just celebrating America’s birthday because that’s where I am. Right now.
Aren’t you in St. Petersburg?
Maybe you wanna come downstairs.
Steve jumps out of bed, legs tangled in his blankets. He nearly trips, but that doesn’t stop him. Steve takes the stairs two at a time, thundering down until he’s in the living room.
And there’s Bucky, standing next to Steve’s mom, beaming.
“Steve, look who’s here!” Sarah Rogers says, grinning as she gestures to Bucky. Her grin turns into a chuckle as she notices that her only son came downstairs in a pair of plaid boxers, a black tank top and bedhead. “Dear, you could’ve put on some pants,” she says.
Steve loves his mom, but he ignores her.
“Bucky?” he asks.
Bucky nods. He’s a little shorter than Steve expected him to be in person. It makes Steve grin.
“Hi Steve,” Bucky says. “Happy birthday.”
It takes Steve about three seconds to close the space between them and wrap Bucky in a huge hug, his leather jacket kind of cool against Steve’s skin.
Bucky chuckles, low and soft next to Steve’s ear. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” he says.
“I’ve known you forever, jerk,” Steve says, then pulls back a little, just to take Bucky in. “Hi,” he says.
And then Bucky leans in and presses a kiss to Steve’s lips. “Hi,” he whispers back.
Steve blinks a few times, surprised. “Buck?” he asks.
“I wanted to wait until I could see you in person,” Bucky says. “You, uh… right?”
“What?” Steve asks, starting to smile.
“Don’t make me say it.”
“You like me,” Steve says.
Bucky nods. “Yeah, I do.”
“I like you, too,” Steve says.
Bucky nods again. “Yeah,” he says. “You do.”
Sarah rolls her eyes. “Happy birthday Steve,” she says. “I’m going to bed.”
Bucky laughs, then looks over at her. “Thanks for getting me the ticket over here, Mrs. Rogers,” he says.
“It’s no problem. Now you two… have fun.”
Bucky laughs. “We will,” he says, looking back at Steve. His eyes go soft. “We will.”