Get Schooled (2020 Edition)

Ch 11: Contrasts

Over the next few days, Steve and Bucky realised they were a couple, that is was the two of them together or bust -- and so, they made it official.

"Copycats," Sam teased as he jerked his head to his boyfriend, Riley, a charming sandy-haired and freckled boy who radiated happiness. Peggy smiled at them when she heard and squeezed Steve's hand. He smiled back.

The weekend came around in an arrival of clear skies and brilliant sunshine, and with the two boys hanging out for the first time out of school since becoming official.

Steve was currently lounging around, flopped on his bed and doodling.

He heard a sharp knock on his bedroom door and stood up, putting his sketchbook down.

Behind the door was no one other than his boyfriend -- Bucky Barnes, his boyfriend. He smiled brightly when he saw him and opened the door wider. "Hey, Buck, come on in."

He stepped carefully into the room and took a look around as Steve returned to his bed. Bucky smiled as he spotted the many sketchbooks and model airplanes, an organized chaotic mess.

"Aww, cute," he hummed as he nodded his head to the model airplanes. Steve pulled a face.

"Yeah, yeah," he dismissed, wrinkling his nose. Bucky flopped onto the bed and peered at what Steve was sketching, his eyes flicking between the drawing and Steve's face. Steve smiled briefly at him, his face flushed before quickly looking down once more.

"So... what do boyfriends do?" Bucky studied his work thoughtfully. "What do you wanna do?" Steve looked at him, and found it hard to voice what he wanted to do, so Bucky interjected, "I'd love to see your drawings."

That was surprising, but Steve was grateful for Bucky taking the lead. "Which sketchbook, old cringe art I'll cry to see again or this year's?"

Bucky snorted, pressing closer, pressing their shoulders together. "Obviously the latter, punk." As Steve fumbled for his sketchbook Bucky rested his chin on his shoulder; this did not make Steve's job of fetching said sketchbook any easier.

"Okay, here's my first dog, Dug," Steve spoke as he flipped to the first page, crinkled and worn. There was a detailed drawing of a small bulldog puppy, tongue lolling out. He looked like he was smiling.

Bucky smiled at the name, glancing at him while Steve studied his own work. "Aw, tell me about him."

Steve grinned as he launched into an explanation about his old pup. They'd had to leave him behind, he was staying with his great aunt, but still -- Steve missed the ol' guy. Bucky watched fondly as Steve described how they used to wrestle, eyes bright as he explained it.

"Dug won every time," he laughed, and Bucky's heart lifted at the sound. He looked at him adoringly and nodded, invested.

"He sounded like a great dog." Bucky himself had never had pets, but he'd always wanted a cat. He had the perfect name picked out for this non-existent, but eventual pet: she would be a beautiful, long-haired white cat, she would be called Alpine and Bucky would adore her.

One day, perhaps.

Steve hesitated over the next drawing, before slowly flipping the page. There on the paper was a beautiful and mint-condition charcoal portrait of Bucky; the date was labelled a long time ago. Steve's cheeks were burning as Bucky tilted his head, speechless.

"D*mn, this guy's handsome," he finally said and Steve laughed, albeit nervously. Bucky smiled at him, sincere. "You're so adorable, you know that?"

Steve blushed redder and took a deep breath. "Thanks, Buck," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. Bucky studied the drawing a second longer before Steve closed the sketchbook. "That's all you get, my pride can't take any more," he clarified.

"Well, thank you for showing me," Bucky said. "Also, I have an idea: picnic."

"You saw a drawing of yourself and thought, picnic?" Steve looked amused as Bucky shrugged defiantly.

"I thought that sitting somewhere with you, having food and being able to admire you is worth something," he answered smoothly, smiling as he bounced off of the bed.

Sneaking into the pantry they grabbed whatever small dry goods they could, and then Bucky insisted he buy them coffee or something to wash it down with. Bucky quickly snagged a blanket from home, asked Steve to wait outside.

When he emerged there was a shadow to his eyes Steve knew hadn't been there before. "You okay?" he checked, quietly, and Bucky grinned at him as they continued down the street to the park.

"Of course I am," he mused and forced a sincere smile. "I'm with you, punk."

////

"You're a dork, you know that, right?" Steve studied him with a fond smile as Bucky finished telling some story about the time Clint and him got locked in a bathroom during a fire drill and how they escaped; the one real interaction they'd had that was quite memorable.

"What, for breaking the bathroom window and falling out of it ten feet onto concrete?" Bucky answered him with a snort.

Steve scoffed, sitting cross-legged then hugging his coffee to his chest to keep warm. "In general, jerk. I like listening to you tell stories."

"Glad I'm useful for something," he said with a laugh and Steve grinned as he sipped his coffee.

"You're incredible," he said. Bucky opened his mouth, closed it when his face started burning red. He mumbled an embarrassed "no, you", but smiled in a pleased way regardless.

They chatted for a while longer but quickly had to part ways; Ms Hilda didn't want Steve out too late.

"Thank you, for this," Steve spoke as he jogged back from tossing out their empty cups and various garbage. Bucky, shaking crumbs from the blanket, merely grinned at him.

"'Course, Steve."

Folding the blanket in his arms, Bucky looked up to see Steve stepping close and kissing him. Steve, up to that point, hadn't been the type to initiate much. Bucky could feel his face burning but he moved a hand to gently cradle Steve's cheek as he kissed back, shivering as Steve nipped his lower lip before pulling away.

Fireworks exploded in Bucky's chest and he stared at him a moment, dumbfounded, a lovestruck look to his eyes. Steve smiled gently as he pulled away, eyes bright.

"Thank you."

He turned again, hands in his pockets as he looked to the ground, cheeks red. "I'll see you tomorrow, Buck," he called over his shoulder, smiling to himself, leaving Bucky gawking after him, frozen in place. 

Steve often didn't like to be the one to be so forward, always had too high anxiety for that he figured -- couldn't help the self-satisfied smile on his face as he walked home.

"Steven, where have you been? Your friends were waiting for you." Ms. Hilda scolded him as he clambered up the stone steps. Her hands remained firm on her hips and her face was pinched into the familiar scowl she often adopted.

That wasn't what caught Steve's attention, though.

Of all the people he could've bumped into, Pierce, Rumlow, Ward, Johann, Sitwell and Zola sitting there on the steps were the worst of the worst. Steve was rooted to the spot, as if something physically held him there. His mouth was dry.

"I was out with a friend," he said, taking them in slowly, studying them -- the way Arnim snickered nervously into his jacket, Rumlow's cold and dead shark-like eyes didn't blink or waver from his own -- the scrutinizing look Pierce was giving him. Blue stared into blue as Steve calmly looked back.

Well, at least I got to make Bucky happy.

That was enough.