Love, Bucky (A Stucky Fanfic)

1!Genesis

  Bucky sat in the waiting room feeling extremely terrified of the people around him. He rapped his knuckles against the plush fabric of the apathetic chair. God, how he wished Steve was here. Steve was the only reason he was here.
  When Bucky was younger, he liked to put on his older sister's, clothing. April was a sight, always saving up for the latest fashions. When their family couldn't afford them, she handmade her own clothes, sold them, and started her own trends. Bucky had looked up to her, even before he knew, before the war.
  He had also liked to put on his mother's makeup. He liked the crisp look his angled jaw gave him, though he wished it was softer, smoother, and more touchable. Bucky had a habit of dressing up when his mother and April weren't home. It was the only time he had to himself and when neither of them could ask questions.
  Once, his best friend dropped by without warning. Bucky felt his heart drop to his stomache. Surely Steve would hate him. Homosexuals were despised greatly, although culture was advancing. It was only the ninteen thirties. Bucky guessed America wasn't ready yet and then and there, looking at Steve Rogers he wondered if it would ever be. He was terrified to the core until Steve said "that lipstick's not really your colour Buck," and laid across on the bed behind Bucky's location at the vanity.
  Bucky, only slightly offended, was relieved. He had so many questions but didn't want to scare Steve away. Instead he calmly asked "Why'do you say that?"
  "Buck, I'm an artist; I know these things. Try a darker shade." Steve had gotten up then, wiping the red off Bucky's lips with the thumb of one hand while searching through the Ms's lipsticks spread out on the white desktop. Once the ruby was gone and he found a dark, sultry, blood red he grinned, his white teeth gleaming handsomely. "Try this," he said, applying the colour to the older one's lips. Steve held Bucky's jaw in his hand carefully, delicately applying the makeup with the other. He looked incredibly focused and at ease while Bucky had trouble remembering how to breathe.
  When Steve was done he leaned back, admiring his work.
  Bucky didn't remember doing it or what had spured him on, but what he does remember is the way Steve's lips felt suddenly against his. Like heaven and hell and everything in between. A mixture between safety and playfulness; everything Bucky needed. Steve didn't hesitate in kissing back and that's when Bucky thought maybe everything would be okay.
  "Señor?" Bucky frowned at the perfectly tanned nurse who had interuppted his memory. "Señor Barnes?" She called with a thick Spanish accent.
  "That's me for now." He dusted off his pants and corrected his suit jacket before he stood and followed her down a corridor with old, white walls and tall, blue doors. She pointed a red painted nail at the third door on the left. "Señor Jimenez is in there waiting for you. I'll be back in a bit." She smiled at him and he nodded, not bothering to correct her.
  "Gracias, señora." She left Bucky alone in the hallway. He took a moment to compose himself. He told Steve he would do this. That he could do it. This is where it all changes.