Jump then Fall: Falling Series 2 (Modern Stucky College AU)

One

Brock was doing it again. Completely distracting Steve from his homework. Again. Although Steve was attempting to keep his attention solely on the sketchbook in front of him, Brock sure did make it difficult.

Especially when Steve would glance up, only to find Brock already staring at him. What made it even worse was how Brock didn't sheepishly avert his gaze. Instead, a slow, genuine grin would take hold of Brock's face. Completely unabashed by it all.

Which was more than Steve could say for himself.

To be clear though, Steve knew of Brock's crush. Steve knew that Brock was interested in him. And only him. It was flattering and exhilarating. It was also something that Steve couldn't confidently say about another brunet he knew. But with Brock...

Well, that was a whole other story.

Although Steve knew about the torch that Brock was carrying for him, Brock had never spoken his feelings aloud. Brock knew of Steve's heartbreak. Hell, Brock had been attempting to help Steve rebuild the pieces. Day in and day out, Brock had been there. And even though Steve could sense that Brock wanted to share how he really felt, Steve appreciated Brock not doing so.

Extremely appreciative of Brock not putting that particular wrench in their blossoming friendship. And a friendship it was. Only a friendship. At least, on Steve's part because Steve was still pathetically wrapped up in Bucky. Even though Steve was adamant about being just friends with Bucky. For now, at least.

There was still a pretty big part of Steve that wanted Bucky. Wanted Bucky to want him and only him. Kind of the way that Brock wanted Steve.

Turning his attention back to his anatomy textbook, Brock teased, "I thought we were supposed to be doing homework."

"Not my fault you chose the difficult major," Steve quirked a brow when Brock slyly looked at him again.

"Okay," Brock scoffed. Stretching his arms up, Steve wondered if he purposely brought his hands behind his head to discreetly -- which really wasn't discreet in the slightest -- flex his biceps. Of course, the easy smirk that tugged at his lips when he caught Steve staring clearly answered his non-voiced question.

Hoping that Brock didn't see the blush taking hold of his face, Steve quickly dropped his gaze back down to his sketchbook. At least with his gaze trained on the page, he could pretend to be focusing. Key word being pretend. Because despite himself, there was a thrill to knowing that Brock couldn't stop watching him.

And Steve realized just how wrong it was. Knew that he shouldn't have been using Brock this way. As a filler. As a stand-in for who Steve really wanted to be with. Yet, Steve also didn't want to completely ice Brock out.

Only now did Steve finally understand the position that all those leading heroines in teen dramas typically found themselves in were feeling. Not so much that Steve wanted to be with Brock, but more so that Steve just didn't want to be alone. Didn't want to go back to how absolutely miserable he had been before New Year's.

A chill shot down Steve's spine at the thought alone, and he couldn't suppress the visible shudder that racked through his petite body. The desperation. The solemn loneliness. It had even been a worse experience than Steve's high school experience. And just like with high school, there was no way in hell that he'd ever allow himself to relive that time.

Sure, things weren't completely fixed. That much was obvious. But they were better. Better than Steve had originally thought possible after everything happened with the delivery girl, Stephanie. Who, to Steve's dismay, was actually a really nice girl.

Not that Steve wanted to be friends with her or anything. No, for the most part Steve still chose to keep his distance. But the two had bumped into each other and Steve wasn't about to leave a drunk girl by herself anywhere, let alone, at a frat house. No matter what she did, no matter what she knew and when she knew it, Steve was determined to make sure that she was tucked in her bed where she was safe.

Steve had even been gentlemanly enough to hold her hair back when she puked on the side of the street.

After all, she wasn't the one who broke his heart. And besides, Nana Rogers lived by the whole, "Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong," and yada yada yada.

"Okay, what are you even drawing?" Brock asked.

With furrowed brows, Steve glanced up from his sketchbook to look at Brock. There was an easy grin on his normally smug face and Steve averted his gaze as he felt his blush return. Sometimes Brock could look so kindly at Steve that Steve felt as though he was looking at the sun. It was annoying and frustrating. Especially when Steve seemed to constantly be telling his heart to stay in its own lane.

Shrugging, Steve refocused on the rough sketch and allowed himself to sound as annoyed with himself as he felt, "A whole bunch of nothing so far."

"Ya know, if you want," Brock started, causing Steve to chance a glance. Of course, that seemed to be the worst mistake as he playfully wiggled his eyebrows while his grin turned wolfish, "You can draw me. Perhaps like one of those French girls."

"Oh my god," Steve playfully groaned, dropping his face into his hands as he tried to keep his chuckles quiet. They were in a library, after all. Lifting his head, Steve accused Brock, "You're ridiculous. You know that?"

"Yeah," Brock confirmed. As his expression softened, he teased, "But it's working, right?"

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes and held up his hand. Showing a minuscule space between his thumb and index finger, while joking, "Maybe."

"Hey, that's fine by me," Brock beamed, giving Steve a wink.