The Greatest Bastard || Bucky Barnes x OC

The Second Session

"No riding today?" Bucky smiled, he peeked over the canvas where he stood. Simone could just see his eyes over the top, and the flick of his head when his hair would fall into his face.

"No...not today" She smiled softly, rolling her shoulders back. She had insisted that Happy let her come by herself this time, but it had of course been out of the question, and he had driven her to Park Royal anyway. It had taken yet another nonchalant remark on the painters behalf to make him leave and wait downstairs.

"I can tell. On your face." He mumbled.

Simone was a bit taken aback.

"Excuse me?" She scoffed, slightly offended.

"You look unsatisfied. Like you...didn't get to finish something you would've liked to finish" He stated bluntly.

Simone suddenly felt like she was naked. If he could so easily spot the difference on her face between when she had been riding and when she hadn't, what else could he spot?

"I'm perfectly satisfied" She huffed.

"I didn't mean any offense, Ms. Desc–" James tried, but stumbled over her name.

Simone raised her eyebrows, a little smile of victory on her lips.

"You know, I wasn't joking when I said I'd have you write your name down." He chuckled.

"Just Simone is fine." She sighed playfully.

"Just Simone. Alright, Just Simone." He teased, earning an eye roll from her.

"French, right?" He peeked up over the canvas again.

"Mhmm.." She nodded, forgetting that she was supposed to be still.

"I figured. Too many letters and not nearly enough sounds to account for them. How'd you end up here?" He asked.

"I could ask you the same thing" She shot back at him.

"My grandfather raised me. He's from Cork. He insisted on spending his final years back in Ireland. When he died, I came here. I'm from Brooklyn." Bucky responded casually.

"Oh" Simone hadn't expected an actual answer. It was strange how open he was about everything.

"My grandmother married an English aristocrat" She responded, sounding almost bored with the idea of it. Fighting the urge to add 'and now i'm getting punished for it'.

Bucky chuckled.
"What's funny?" She asked coldly.

"No just...the way it makes your face look. So much dread" He looked further over the canvas this time.

"You seem to be adept in reading people's emotions off their face. Is that what happens when you paint? Or were you always just nosy?" Simone ran her fingers over her nails.

"Woah!" He laughed. "Sensitive subject?" He tilted his head playfully.

"Which subject?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure. English aristocrats? Or marriage?" He narrowed his eyes. "And no. You just happen to wear every single thought you have on your face" He shrugged.

"I do not!" Simone's voice came out a bit more high pitched than she intended.

"You absolutely do, doll" He laughed.

Simone had to bite the inside of her cheek to properly stop herself from making whatever face she had almost made.

Doll? How dare he? Shouldn't she be offended? But she wasn't. Not in the slightest. If anything, she was a bit intrigued. Maybe even a bit flustered at his comment.

Meanwhile, Bucky was taking in every detail of her face. He had already mapped out the placement of her features. But that was the easy part. The challenge was to do justice to the soft curve of her jaw, and her incredibly carved cheekbones that looked like they had been cut from marble. Her doe eyes translated well enough onto the canvas, and so did her small mouth and full lips.

But it was hard, when all he could stare at was her neck, and those slim wrists. He would've liked to paint her hands. But without that ring.

It was quite an understatement to call it a ring. It looked more like a rock. It's incessant dazzling a constant reminder that she was better than most people in most rooms. And definitely in this one.

Bucky enjoyed how her face revealed what she thought even though she didn't say a word. It made his job easier. Bringing his painting to life would be a walk in the park with this one. She seemed to have so many feelings, all of them bubbling right at the surface.

"So, when is the big day?" He seemed to have caught her a bit off guard.

"September 9th" She cleared her throat. Bucky could see the flickering of something in her gaze. He couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. But he was pretty certain it wasn't excitement.

"I thought summer weddings were all the craze these days?" He decided to push a bit further.

It was true. Summer weddings were all the craze. Especially in her circle. But Simone couldn't very well admit that she had done everything in her power to push the wedding as far out as possible. How much she was dreading it. How uncertain and forced she felt. How much she wanted to scream.

"I like the fall" She settled for something easy. She didn't need a more elaborate excuse afterall, she didn't owe him any information.

"Hmm" James mumbled, seeming not convinced.

Simone could feel the tension grow heavy again, as if she had been caught in a lie. How did he know? She felt the urge to keep explaining. To somehow cover her tracks.

"Less bugs...and Mrs. Rumlow insists on me wearing her wedding dress. Dreadfully clumsy thing with layers and layers. I would sweat to death in the summer." Before Simone could stop herself, she let a piece of her own mind slip. "Feels  like stepping into a straitjacket rather than a wedding dress." She blurted out.

Bucky was quiet for a while, leaning out from behind the canvas.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, his eyes a bit wider than usual, fighting to hold back his laughter.

"A straitjacket. Like the ones for mental patients?" She responded, eyes equally as wide. She could see the twitch in his jaw.

"Please, go ahead, laugh. It's what I do to keep from crying" Simone sighed, brushing out the leg of her pants. She lifted her head and met his gaze. Their eyes locked in a serious stare for a split second before they both burst out into laughter.

"I'm– I'm sorry" Bucky tried to control himself, stepping back behind the canvas, running a hand through his messy hair.

"No, please. Don't be." She reassured, hiding her own giggles behind her hand. A few deep breaths later, and one more collapse into laughter, they were ready to continue.

When Happy knocked on the door exactly one hour later, she felt a bit lighter as she walked to the car, and maybe even looking forward to their next session.