Chapter Text
Sally’s Diner, Red House, New York. Winter 1942.
The whole town was in the holiday mood. The Barnes family had finally just moved in after constantly being in and out of town for three years. The Barnes brothers, Steve and James decided to hangout at Sally’s Diner, hoping to see some old friends. 13-year old James was seated at the high stool, talking to Sally, a redhead waitress, and owner of the diner.
“What’s yours, sweetie?” She was met with a bright smile and gleaming blue eyes.
“Do you have some hot chocolate, Ma’am?” James inquired when a young girl about his age sat beside him.
“Could you make that two, Sally? Could I have mine with-”
“Marshmallows? Gotcha, sugar,” Sally interrupted the young girl. Her smile was shining with excitement for the sweet treat. She looked at James and shyly said, “I love marshmallows.”
“Me too,” inserted the older Barnes boy, Steve. The girl gleefully giggled at the tall boy who sat beside him. James looked dumbfounded and glared at his brother. He eyed him. His thoughts said, “You hate marshmallows.”
Sally leaned in front of him.
“Would you like some marshmallows too, sweetie?”
“I didn’t know you had marshmallows.” He loved those things. His mother used to sneak him some marshmallows in his hot chocolate during Christmas morning. Truly, a treat for the boy who willingly plowed their sidewalk after a heavy snow. “Are you gonna charge me extra for it, Ma’am?”
“Nah, for you, it’s on the house,” Sally offered with a wink. James looked at his brother and the girl already talking about going to the school’s winter formal together. He was getting grumpy but he didn’t want to ruin such a nice winter day.
“On second thought, I don’t want any marshmallows.”
Red House, New York. 1946.
James Buchanan Barnes was…in a word, a rebel. Often timid and quiet, anyone rarely ever knew what was on his mind. Especially not his father, whose focus was directed more to the eldest Barnes boy, Steve. He was the type that often got associated with the town’s lesser promising kids. When his father wanted him to be interested in chess when he was eight, he wanted to play baseball. Steve got into the game of chess, among other things that made Steve the most popular boy in school.
James, however, was a mama’s boy. The ladies in their family didn’t treat him like he was an outsider. But the one person’s approval that mattered to him the most was the one he couldn’t get. It was perhaps, ironic, how James became the young man he was. He badly wanted to feel loved by his father, but almost never did anything he wanted him to do. Perhaps, all he wanted was to be loved without needing to be much like his brother Steve.
That night in the Barnes residence after the brawl, James greeted his mother with a peck on the cheek. The sound of the motor of your father’s car began to fade away. “Is everything all right, Mama?” Winifred sighed, shaking his head. They both got inside the house and James noticed his papa in the dining table. His forehead resting on his palm.
“Hey, pop.”
“Why weren’t you home for dinner?”
“I was out.” George slammed his hand on the table, making the plates and utensils jump and clink.
“Of course you were out! You just got here! I’m asking you where the hell you’ve been!” James didn’t answer. “You were out with your slacker friends again, weren’t you?” James mocked him, flipping the toothpick inside his mouth - being completely unfazed by the threatening tone of his papa. “Answer me, boy!”
“Fine, yes I was out with my friends. Oh, I’m sorry, my slacker friends. There, ya happy?” George finally stood in front of his boy, sizing him up. James, on the other hand, had no idea where his mockery and disrespect were getting him into. George grabbed the toothpick out of James’ mouth, wounding the inside of his lips.
“Ow! Fuck!” The boy grunted, anger erupting in his face, then a slap was thrown into his face, the assault aimed at his lips. His head turned sideways at the blow.
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, you little punk?” Still defiant to submit, his eyes glared at his father.
“Bucky…” his mother softly called him and rubbed his back. “Apologize to your father.”
“I’m sorry I cussed, papa.” His apology came out so easily, implying how often this happened but he never bothered doing something about it. George accepted his apology without question in order to get what he wants.
“You’re gonna marry Y/N.”
“WHAT?” He yapped, turning to his mother who seemed to already know what’s going on. “Pop, did you hear just what you said? You’re asking me to marry Steve’s girlfriend? The girl who just went out of our house crying a while ago?!” He pointed his thumb backward, gesturing their driveway where your father’s car was parked a minute ago. “Is that why you specifically wanted me to be at dinner tonight?!”
“No. But since your brother chickened out the last minute, there’s nothing we could do, son.”
“That’s bullshit!”
“Language!”
“Why do I got to do this? Why can’t Steve go? It’s his girlfriend!”
“She’s pregnant son.”
“Wow.” James sarcastically chuckled as he put his hands on his waist and started pacing in the hallway. He rubbed his face with the whole of his palm with frustration. No wonder she was crying. She’s pregnant and Steve’s a fucking coward. Some coward for a golden boy.
“You must really hate me, pop, don’t you? You’re sending me to marry a girl I barely know, who, by the way, is my brother’s girlfriend! Just because she’s fucking pregnant!”
“James! What did I tell you about cursing in front of your mother?!”
“George…let the boy be. You just put him in a very difficult situation.”
“You’re doing this ‘cause you hate me, don’t you? Don’t you, Pop?” His jaws were glued together saying this. “I’m just James, your other son. The expendable one. It’s all right if my dreams are out the window just ‘cause your first-born gotta go to freakin’ Oxford and make his dreams come true! What a father you are.”
“James Buchanan Barnes! I won’t tolerate any more of this tone you’re having with me.”
“But it’s not fair, papa! The baby’s not my responsibility! It’s Steve’s! Whatever happened to taking responsibility for our actions, huh, pop?” His question made his father look down. He turned to the stairs to yell at his big brother. “Hey, Steve! You better get your chicken-ass down here and settle this with Pa!”
James’ body turned around and once he faced his father, he was met with another open hand on his face. “One more line of disrespect, son, I swear, I’ll send you to military school.” George’s tone was now calm but more compelling.
James was never one to do something he doesn’t want. All of his interests - mechanic work, carpentry, and music, never once coincided with his father, forever marking him as the black sheep of the family. Steve, on the other hand, was effortlessly intelligent and easily got interested in what his father wanted for him. Always obedient, except this time, ironically, when his obedience was needed the most. With favoritism being the only obvious reason, George let his eldest son off the hook.
In his whole life, this predicament irked James the most. Getting married at seventeen is not something to take lightly. Hell, what was he thinking? Getting pregnant at eighteen and having to carry the baby alone is something no young woman should do. What would he be doing being Y/N’s husband? How would that work out between the two of them?
What about Steve’s baby? Was he supposed to take care of it? Make himself the baby’s daddy? Is all of that better than the other thing? His thoughts drifted back to his father’s last two words: military school. Anywhere else’s better than here, James thought to himself. It struck him an idea.
“If I marry her…What’s in it for me?”