Drawing Lessons

Danger

Steve tried his locker combination a third time. Maybe if people would stop jostling him, he'd be able to get it right. He spun it to the first number, seventeen, then started to twist it in the other direction just as someone slammed him with their shoulder. In frustration, Steve kicked the bottom corner of his locker. It shuttered open.

"Oh." He muttered, storing that handy little bit of information for another time. He slid his books onto the shelf at the top of his blue storage unit. That's when he noticed it: a piece of white paper folded in half was resting gently on his backpack, as if someone had dropped it in through the slots on his locker. He pulled it out, ready to crumple up what he naturally assumed to be some note telling him how much of a sissy he was. He'd gotten notes saying that sort of thing before, along with others that used... stronger language.

He opened the sheet, though, just to make sure that it was indeed another horrid note, only to discover that it wasn't. It wasn't bad at all. In fact, it was good. On the sheet was a drawing of an iris. Steve recognized it as the one Bucky had drawn the day before, only now it was colored in. The shading wasn't done very well, but maybe that was just because Bucky had colored it rather than shaded it with black and white. Bucky didn't know about Steve's colorblindness, and it would probably remain that way, at least for the moment, due to Steve's sheer embarrassment on the matter. Still, Steve found the drawing beautiful.

He took one of the magnet clips he had on the inside of his locker door, and hung up the drawing, which just barely fit the width of the metal. He admired it for a second, before grabbing the paper bag that contained his lunch and gently closing the locker with his foot as he walked off.

From down the crowded hall, Bucky observed all of this, smiling. Steve was kind of... cute. Steve was also walking toward him. Bucky immediately turned around and pretended to be getting a drink from the drinking fountain rather than watching Steve from a distance in a way not intended to be creepy, but, as Bucky turned it over in his head, may be misconstrued as such. His perhaps a little bit nervous thoughts raced through his head at lightning speed without any breaks. Was he really that nervous? As Steve neared, Bucky stood up once more and gave Steve a half smile. Steve smiled back, radiant, as he walked on down the hallway.

Bucky watched him go, the corners of his mouth twitching upward fondly. What was wrong with him? He had literally met the tiny punk twenty-four hours ago. Suddenly, he noticed that Steve was going a different direction as everyone else in the hallway. Was he not headed for the cafeteria? Without really knowing what he was doing, Bucky launched himself from the drinking fountain and began to walk after Steve.

"You always eat out here?" Bucky asked, sitting down next to Steve on the loading dock outside their school, across the way from where the giant dumpsters were sitting. Steve jumped, startled, before calming down again when he registered who was speaking.

"Yeah." Steve replied simply. He had nothing more to say on the matter.

"Even in winter?" Bucky asked, to which Steve nodded, mouth full of sandwich. "Don't you get cold?"

"A little. But it's better than eating inside." Steve admitted.

"Why's it better?" Bucky was genuinely curious.

"Quieter." Steve stated. He had more reason than that, and they both knew it. Neither said a word.

"You ever get your pencils back?" Bucky asked, changing the topic.

"No, they're long gone." Steve was quiet for a moment. "It's fine though, I can draw without them."

"You know you can use my colored pencils anytime, right?" Bucky offered.