Red White and You

|1| Dirty Drawings

It was a particularly dark and cloudy afternoon in Brooklyn. The rain plunked along the sidings of the apartment he shared with Bucky and left little trails as it streaked down the windows. After raining for hours, puddles pooled at the edges of the streets and the plinking of the water on the roof created a white noise. Steve found himself relatively calm for a rain storm... probably because the thunder hadn't started yet.

Steve's mind had slowly drifted off to a daydream as he relaxed on the old rickety bed Bucky's room. It smelled of him... that's why when Bucky went to work, Steve would sometimes lay there so he wouldn't feel so alone. It was days like these when his mind would wander off its usual course and into a foggy no mans land of sorts. Normally, Steve would do his best to stay out of his own mind and stay away from distracting thoughts, but every once in a while he would just let himself drift away.

Last he had checked it was 9 o'clock in the morning but he was already feeling hungry again. He sat up, already uncomfortable from the springs poking up through the mattress, to check the clock on the pale blue wall opposite him.

12:04 - time for lunch.

He scooted over to the edge of the bed and headed for the kitchen. A simple ham and cheese sandwich sounded perfect - probably because it was all they could afford at the time, but still.

Steve made his small sandwich and sat at the little wooden table in the kitchen, the wooden chair across from him cold and forgotten. As he ate he watched the rain through the window over the sink pitter-patter it's way across the glass.

After cleaning up it was only 12:37 and Bucky wouldn't be home until 4:00.

What to do.

Steve found himself bored out of his mind when Bucky wasn't there. No one with whom he could talk or joke around, no one to shelter him if he felt scared, no one to hold him when the thunder boomed or protect him as the lightning cracked. How he missed his pal during the day as he sat on he sofa all alone, usually doing nothing except wait for him to get back (even though he would never tell Bucky that).

He returned to his friend's room, propped up Bucky's pillow and sat on his bed. The little yellow-light emitting lamp only lit up half of the room on cloudy days such as today. However, it would suffice for what Steve had planned for the rest of his day. He had brought something with him this time into the cramped bedroom. His sketchbook.

The pages were old and a beige-brown color and the sides were a bit soft and bent, but it was perfect for Steve's so called doodles (even while Bucky considered them to be masterpieces).

He mostly drew what he saw, and the final product was as precise as a photograph every time. While his lungs were less than sufficient, his painting and drawing skills were superb - he was truly gifted, even while he would never admit it.

Now the question remained: what to draw? Steve looked around and finally stood up and walked towards the window on his left. He moved the thin fabric of the dark blue drapes once he got there and peered out into the street. Not a single soul or car to be seen and rightfully so; the rain had picked up and the wind was getting stronger. The street wasn't something Steve actually wanted to draw, though, as he had already drawn it countless times before. The street, a chair, a bowl of fruit or a vase it was all the same. All so simple. No meaning. Boring.

When he sat back down and closed his eyes to listen to the pitter-patter above and around him, he fell back into that same dazed, daydream like state as he was earlier. Bucky hadn't known that Steve had daydreams like these. The kind that involved both of them. The kind in which Steve was finally Bucky's. Where they were together and as inseparable as ever. He could never tell Bucky though because, after all, Bucky would never like him like that... he liked girls. So he sat there, wishfully thinking for a while.