stevebucky moving into their first apartment together. bucky and george moving furniture, winnie and steve bringing the small crates of clothes and the crate of kitchen stuff (steve wanted to help with the furniture but the three barneses wouldn't hear it)

everything is a little bit crooked; the cupboards sag; there's a bump in the floor where the wood's buckled and bulged - sarah's old rug covers it just fine

there's a tiny bathtub squeezed into the kitchen - steve'll fit ok, but bucky'll have to damn near fold himself in two - and a table with two spindly chairs; there's a bowl in the centre of the table, but no fruit

the bedroom isn't much: a narrow, rickety bed pushed to the wall - bucky's insisted that this will be steve's - and a fold-up bed; the mattresses are both full of busted springs; steve sets his sketchbook and charcoal on the dipping shelf on the wall

everything's been unpacked now and winnie and george are leaving. george ruffles steve's hair - steve's always hated it, to be honest - and says, "you make sure bucky's not slackin' off. and if he is? do what i do and yank him by the ear." "yessir," steve replies

winnie beams at the two boys and wraps them each in a hug. "anything you need, come round to us. anything at all." "thanks, ma," says bucky, muffled, his face pressed into the crook of his mother's neck

they separate. "you boys look after each other," winnie instructs them. "don't worry," steve says, cracking a grin, "i'll keep him out of trouble." "i'll be dead in a week," says bucky, deadpan