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Ever since Bucky could remember, Steve had an axe to grind with Mr. Nebbercracker. The old man lived across the hall, and all the boys and girls living in the brownstone knew to steer clear of him. Of course, that meant Steve was always the first to march right up to his door.

“C’mon, Stevie, let’s go! It’s not worth it!” Bucky begged, hugging his teddy bear. “Bekka doesn’t need ‘er stupid doll back. She has a million!”

“Mr. Nebbercracker can’t just take stuff from us!” Steve growled, pounding against the old man’s door. “You hear me, you old grouch? Give back the doll! It’s not yours, and you’re a no-good rotten thief!”

“Steve!” Bucky was pretty sure he could throw Steve over his shoulder and make a run for it.  

But the door opened before he had a chance. 

Mr. Nebbercracker came out in all his wrinkly glory. “You!” He sneered at Steve. 

“Give back Bekka’s doll!” Steve stomped his foot. 

“I’ve made it clear if you snot-nosed brats leave your things unattended, you forfeit all rights to them. Now git!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Do you want to be eaten alive?” Mr. Nebbercracker yelled. 

“No!” Bucky didn’t give Steve the chance to swing at an old man. He grabbed his best friend and practically carried him back across the hall. But in his haste, he dropped his teddy bear… 

“Then stay away from my apartment!”

“Y-Yes, sir.” Bucky pushed Steve inside and slammed the door shut. 

“What was that for?” Steve demanded. “I had ‘im right where I wanted ‘im.”

Whirling on Steve, Bucky shook his skinny little bones. “D-Do you have some kind of death wish?”

“What’s the point of a death wish if I’m already dying?”

“You’re not dying!” Bucky shook him again. “But you’re likely to get you and your ma evicted if you keep antagonizing Mr. Nebbercracker.”

“He’s just a bully.”

“He’s the landlord, Stevie, and he hates your guts!”

“But—”

“But nothing! You’re supposed to leave ‘im alone and stay outta trouble.”

“You and my ma really need to stop talking,” Steve complained. “Y-You’re conspiring against me!”

Bucky laughed. “Stevie, you’re 90% stubborn and 10% stupid. Somebody’s gotta be the brain, and we all know it ain’t gonna be you.”

“I promised Bekks I’d get her doll back,” Steve whined. 

“Well, she knows better than to play with her toys in the hall. Nobody gets their stuff back from Mr. Nebbercracker. And that’s enough outta you! I don’t wanna hear it. Why can’t we ever just have fun when I come over? You always gotta pick a fight! You’d fight your own shadow if you could…”

Sighing, Steve held up his hands. “All right, I surrender. Let’s play with Beans and Toast.”

For their first Christmas as official best friends forever, Bucky’s ma had gotten them both teddy bears, which the two boys named after their favorite meal: Beans and Toast. Neither could sleep without their teddy bears, and they had to have sleepovers often because Beans and Toast were brothers. It’d be cruel to keep them apart. But when they walked into Steve’s small bedroom, Toast was the only teddy bear in the room… 

“No, no, no!” Bucky ran to the door and yanked it open just in time to see Mr. Nebbercracker taking Beans away. 

“Don’t you dare!” Steve yelled, pushing past Bucky and grabbing the teddy bear. “That’s Bucky’s, and I’m not about to let you take ‘im!” 

“You kids know the rules—”

“It’s a stupid rule!” Steve growled. “Give ‘im back!”

Bucky watched as his precious teddy bear was tugged back and forth between the two. He cried out when Bean’s stitches gave, and suddenly, he was torn in two. 

The momentum threw Mr. Nebbercracker and Steve to the floor. 

Wheezing, Steve managed to grab the other half of the teddy bear before Mr. Nebbercracker could. He hastily deposited the broken bear in Bucky’s arms and planted himself between Mr. Nebbercracker and Bucky. 

The old man approached them, red in the face like a disgusting tomato. “You are dead! You think you can just terrorize my hall? Disrespect my rules?” He grabbed Steve and shook him. 

Hysterically, Bucky hoped, Steve’s brain finally rattled back to a spot where it could work properly. “N-No, I love life!” Hugging Beans close, Bucky couldn’t stop himself from crying. 

“This place is not a playground for children!”

“G-Got it from now on,” Bucky promised. 

“This is my house… Why can’t you just respect that? Why can’t you just stay away from her—” Suddenly, Mr. Nebbercracker’s knees buckled, and he fell right on top of Steve.

“H-He’s dead.” Steve actually sounded afraid. 

The body moved, and it took all of Bucky’s willpower not to make a run for it, but it was only Stevie trying to get free. 

“I-I’m a murderer.”

“No, you’re not.” Bucky hugged him. “You’re my best friend, and you saved Beans. ‘Sides, when it’s an accident, they call it manslaughter.” 

“I-I’ll fix Beans for ya, but then I’m afraid I gotta go on the run. I’m a fugitive now.”

Bucky sighed. “We both are. It’s not like I can leave you to your own devices.”

“At least we’ll be together.” 

They walked back to Steve’s apartment and watched through the cracked door as one of the neighbors discovered Mr. Nebbercracker. They weren’t sure exactly what was going on, but then again, neither of them knew what happened to dead people before they were put in the ground. 

“Maybe they won’t find out you killed ‘im,” Bucky whispered. 

“You think so?”

“I hope so. I really don’t wanna leave…”

“Then we’ll stay. You might just have to hide me if the coppers show up.”

“Of course.”

***

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Chapter Text

Bucky and Steve made themselves a dinner of beans and toast, though both boys picked at their food. It was a quiet affair.

Steve’s babysitter, Natalia, finally showed up after they had finished their dinner.

Steve got out his ma’s needle and embroidery floss and carefully stitched Beans back together. The needlework was sloppy, but Bucky was sure his ma could fix it up. “I’m sorry I got Beans hurt today,” Steve finally said. “If I hadn’t picked a fight with Mr. Nebbercracker, you wouldn’t have dropped ‘im in the hall, and he wouldn’t have gotten torn up.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t pick fights. ‘Sides, you got ‘im better, and you fixed ‘im up all nicely.” Bucky smiled. “I ain’t mad at ya, punk.”

“Jerk.” Steve’s shoulder knocked into him. 

They grinned at each other. 

Nat glanced at them as she walked into the room. “All right, boys, I promised Mrs. Rogers to get you to bed early, so scram!”

Steve frowned. “My bedtime’s at 10! It’s only 9 o’clock. You just want us gone ‘cause your boyfriend’s comin’ over, and he’s not supposed to be!” 

Nat threw a potted plant to the ground. Crack! “Steve, why’d you do that?”

“I-I didn’t!”

“Yeah, who do you think your ma’s gonna believe?”

Bucky sighed, dragging Steve towards his room before Steve’s sense of injustice got them into trouble again. “It’s not worth it. You know, Clint comes over every time Nat babysits.”

“He’s not supposed to!” 

“Stevie, it’s not worth the fight.” 

A scratching noise drew their attention to the window. A black kitten that Bucky had been secretly feeding was sitting on the windowsill. 

“Flipper!” Bucky exclaimed, opening the window and letting the little thing in. 

“I don’t see why your ma won’t just let you keep her.” Steve gently petted between Flipper’s ears only to get hissed at. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you only come around for Bucky.”

The kitten affectionately chewed on Bucky’s fingers. 

“I wish she would. I love Flip.” 

Dressed in their PJs, two boys, two teddy bears, and a cat curled on top of Steve’s small bed and fell asleep. Steve, who was always cold, pressed his iceberg feet against Bucky, who grunted as he hugged Flipper a little closer. 

“Love ya, Buck,” Steve whispered. 

“Love ya, Stevie.” Bucky smiled. He didn’t mind keepin’ his best friend warm. He didn’t mind at all. 

A giant hand made of shadow reached through the window and grabbed the sleeping boy. It squeezed him tight. 

“Steve,” an otherworldly voice moaned. 

The shutters blinked. The walls breathed. The floorboards creaked. 

“Rotten boy. Murderer.”

The darkness smothered what little light was in the room. The door moved of its own volition like a mouth snapping shut. “You’ll get what’s comin’ to you.”

Steve woke with a start. His heart was pounding, and there was a chill in the air. Shivering, he hugged himself and tried to rub some warmth back into his twig-like arms. Suddenly, the shutters clapped. He almost thought it was the wind. Sometimes, the wind blew the shutters open, but not like this. It was as if the windows were eyes, and the shutters were eyelashes, blinking rapidly, staring at him. The walls exhaled, and Steve felt hot breath against his face. Its breath stank… He watched with wide eyes as the floorboards began to pop up as if the floor were alive, but it was more than the floor. The brownstone was alive somehow. 

“Steve.” 

Steve didn’t know that voice. He’d never heard it before, but then again, it sounded decidedly not human. “G-Go away!”

The lights flickered on and off. 

Pinching himself, Steve closed his eyes. He had to be sleeping still, even though his arm was throbbing. “N-Not real. It’s not real.”

“Steeb, stop da lights,” Bucky mumbled. 

“Y-You can see the lights too?” Steve squeaked. 

“Stop messing around!” Bucky yelled. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“I’m not touching the lights!” Steve exclaimed. “I’m right next to you, not anywhere near the light switch!”

“What?” Bucky blinked, staring at Steve, the flickering lights, and the light switch that was moving on its own. “How on earth?”

“I don’t know,” Steve whispered. “I thought I was dreaming. There can only be one explanation, then. N-Nebbercracker’s back from the dead, and he’s haunting me…”

“You sound like a crazy person.” Bucky sighed. “I guess we’re not going to get any more sleep?”

“His blood is on my hands, and now he’s come back for revenge! And all you can think about is sleep?” Steve asked, hysteria creeping into his voice. 

“I’m tired!” Bucky whined. “You’re really crazy right now. Have you noticed? I think you’re freaking out ‘cause you killed a man today. Life‘ll go on, and you just need to relax and sleep like me.”

“B-But what about the lights?”

“Maybe the fuse’s broken.”

“Please, Bucky, I need your help!”

“Whatcha need, Stevie?”

“Can we just check?” Steve asked. “I need to see it to believe it.”

“See what?”

“That Mr. Nebbercracker’s really gone, and he ain’t a ghost.”

“You’re gonna make me get outta this perfectly comfy and warm bed, ain’t ya?”

“Puh-lease!”

“Ok, whatever, let’s go.”

Bucky tucked Beans and Toast in bed. He put on his bathrobe and slippers, just like Steve, and then they walked into the hall. They walked slowly trying to avoid the creaky floorboards so that they didn’t wake Nat up. 

So, two boys and a cat found themselves in front of their apartment door. It seemed bigger at night— then again, everything seemed bigger at night. The shadows were longer, the colors muted with a wrongness that was altogether terrifying. They opened the door, and that’s when they saw it.

Under Mr. Nebbercracker’s door, light shone into the hall. 

Ccccrrrrrreeeeeeeaaaaakkkk! Ccccrrrrrreeeeeeeaaaaakkkk! Ccccrrrrrreeeeeeeaaaaakkkk!

A shadow stepped across the light. 

Bucky and Steve looked at the obvious ghost walking in a dead man’s apartment, then they looked at each other, and then they screamed bloody murder. 

***

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Chapter Text

“Mr. Nebbercracker’s back from the dead!” Bucky’s voice was a high-pitched squeak. 

Steve’s ma always said his temper would get him into trouble. But Steve never could have imagined he’d murder a man and get himself haunted. “We’re dead!” 

“Do you realize what’s gonna happen tonight?” Bucky asked. “Hundreds of kids are gonna walk right up to that door and trick or treat!”

“Wait, wait, wait, c’mon, Buck, I think we’re overreacting. I mean, think about it— only a total moron would walk up to old man Nebbercracker’s house!”

“Steve, it’s Halloween! There’ll be kids comin’ in and out of the Brownstone, and some of ‘em won’t know any better.” 

“So, what’re we s’posed to do ‘bout it?” Steve asked. 

“My bunică (grandma) might know,” Bucky said. “Ma says she’s a witch.”

It was a little early to go calling on Bucky’s elderly grandmother, so they decided to wait until breakfast. Of course, neither boy was about to fall asleep again, so they made a fort out of the couch cushions and blankets. Periodically, they checked the peephole to keep an eye on the ghost. 

But they were only seven years old, so it wasn’t that surprising when they fell asleep piled on top of each other like puppies. They were sleeping soundly until Natasha poured a cup of water over them. 

“What on earth are you morons doing out here?”

“Um, well, you see...” Steve racked his head for something she’d buy…

“Stevie had a nightmare,” Bucky said, pouring every drop of that Barnes’ charm into his voice. “So, we decided to come out here and wait for Mrs. Rogers to come back.”

“She’s working a double shift.” Natasha’s eyes narrowed. 

“It’s not like nightmares make all that much sense.”

“We’re hungry,” Steve said innocently. 

“Fine, I’ll make you some eggs and toast, but you have to clean up this mess.” 

After their fort was deconstructed, the boys ate their breakfast quickly, washed up and dressed, and ran out the door. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Natasha asked. 

“I promised we’d visit my bunică,” Bucky said. “We’ll be right back!” 

Cosmina Barnes lived on the first floor of the Brownstone. She’d adamantly refused to move in with Bucky and his family, preferring to keep her independence. But her door was always welcome to her grandchildren, especially Bucky. 

Steve had never had a grandmother, so he wasn’t sure what that relationship was supposed to be like. But what he did know is that Bucky’s bunică was everything a grandmother should be. 

“Dragă!” Cosmina kissed Bucky’s cheeks. 

“Bunică!”

“Would you two dearies like some tea and cinnamon toast?” 

“Yes, please!” Steve grinned. 

Once their hands were wrapped around warm mugs, Bucky hesitantly began. “Bunică, we need your help. You see Steve killed Mr. Nebbercracker, and now he’s come back from the grave and’s haunting us! B-But it’s more than that, the brownstone is… something’s just not right. I-I kind of think the whole building is haunted!”

“Possessed apartment, you say?” Cosmina sipped her tea. 

“Is it possible, Bunică?” Bucky asked. 

“Yes, man-made structures can become possessed by a human soul so that the spirit becomes merged with wood and bricks, creating a rare form of monster.”

“So, you’re saying the apartment is Mr. Nebbercracker?” Steve squeezed. “Oh, god, we’re his murderous enemies!”

Cosmina laughed. “Ah, I envy the imagination of youth. Have fun getting killed!”

“Wait, how could we get rid of it?” Bucky asked. “There’s gotta be a way.”

“Well, that’s easy enough. How do you get rid of possessions, dragul meu (my darling).” 

Steve’s mind had always been quicker than Bucky’s, especially in the morning. The blond crossed himself. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What?” Bucky asked. 

“An exorcism,” Steve explained. “We have to exorcize the brownstone!”

Steve shrugged. The little punk wasn’t afraid of anything! 

“It is far more dangerous but not impossible,” Cosmina said.

Somehow, that didn’t make Bucky feel any better. “You wouldn’t happen to have a book about exorcisms we could borrow?” 

“Of course, Dragă.” Cosmina pinched his cheek and handed him a big old dusty book. With that, they left Bunică to have her afternoon nap. 

“So, how do we exorcize a building?” Bucky asked as they walked back to Steve’s apartment. 

Flipping through the book, Steve squinted as he read, “Okay, it says we need a Bible. Duh, that makes sense. Candles, salt—weird… Holy water and a rosary, huh.”

Bucky nodded. “Most of that stuff’s in your apartment, but what about holy water?” 

“There’s a recipe to make it right here!” Steve flipped to a different page. “Here it is! All we need to do is boil water with frankincense, myrrh, and gold.”

“How on earth we s’posed to find that stuff?” 

“Well, we’ve got rosemary and thyme. My ma’s cross is gold, and we gotta use it anyway. And I think myrrh is just perfume, right?”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know!”

“Well, one of the gifts was smelly.” Steve nodded. “It’ll work. It has to!”

“Uh-huh.” 

Once they were back in Steve’s apartment, they set to work. Steve wasn’t supposed to play with his ma’s cross necklace or her rosary, but desperate times… He placed the cross in a pot, added the spices, and set them to boil. 

Bucky took a candle or two from the dining room table and set them in pockets. He grabbed the salt shaker and stuffed that into his other pocket. Finally, he carefully pulled a worn Bible from the bookshelf and held it awkwardly. “That’s everything, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, Buck. We’ve got this.”

“Don’t we need a priest for a proper exorcism?” 

Steve shrugged. “I’m Catholic. I think it counts.”

“I don’t think that’s even close to bein’ the same thing…”

“Oh, don’t be such a worry wort.” Steve grinned. “We’re gonna exorcize the apartment, save the day, and then go trick or treating with my ma.”

“Please never do somethin’ stupid like signin’ up for the army. You just ain’t got the brains for it,” Bucky muttered as they walked across the hall. “How are we gettin’ in?”

Steve grinned and held up two sticks of metal. “I’m gonna pick it.”

“Steve, you don’t know how to pick locks.”

“It can’t be that hard!”

The doors loomed above them like some kind of elongated jaw. In the shadows of the hallway, the boys could have sworn that they saw teeth ready to gnash them to bits. 

But before Steve even had a chance to attempt to pick the lock, the door swung open as if they were expected. 

Steve was about to walk right in, but Bucky grabbed his arm. “I don’t think we should do what it wants!”

“We can’t exorcize it in the hallway!” Steve hissed. “The neighbors will call the coppers on us!”

“B-But Stevie, I gotta really bad feeling ‘bout this.”

“It’ll be okay, Buck. Have I ever led you wrong?”

The answer to that question was rather complicated. The thing is, Steve got into a lot of trouble, and Bucky was always jumping into the middle of it. As much trouble as Steve got into, he was also the best friend anyone could ask for. 

Holding hands, they stepped inside and were swallowed whole. 

Once you envision your home as an undead, possessed thing, you see the proof of it everywhere. The windows look like eyes and the curtains eyelids. The wallpaper, with its blemishes and sheen of mildew was the skin. The lights that flickered were the uvula. The radiators that hacked and coughed were the lungs. The crooked staircase was the spine. The gurgling pipes that screamed and moaned were the veins and arteries. And the fire’s light that squeezed and twisted was the heart. 

“I-I think we should leave.” Bucky tugged on Steve’s sleeve. 

“W-We gotta do the exorcism.” Steve held the candles over the fire until their wicks caught aflame. He set them on the floor and poured the salt into a circle around them. Clutching his ma’s rosary and cross necklace.

“Stevie, we’re way over our heads. We got no clue how to do an exorcism!”

“I read the book.”

Bucky wanted to scream. 

Steve flipped through the Bible. “We learned how Jesus dealt with Satan and demons in Sunday School. Ah, here it is! He said, ‘Get thee behind me, Satan!’”

The brownstone screamed. The whole building shuddered, and the floors began to rattle up and down like a stormy sea. The lights flickered, and the temperature dropped. The shutters slammed against the windows. 

“I don’t think it worked!” Bucky yelled. 

“Go back to hell, you old bastard!” Steve screamed right back at the house. 

Suddenly, kitchen knives flew at them—they ducked, so the knives embedded themselves into the wall. 

“This is my house!” A voice that was decidedly not Mr. Nebbercracker yelled. “It’s my house, and they’re hurting me!”

***

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