Stucky One-Shots

Sketches (Pre-War)

(Situation: Steve gave Bucky his apartment key so he could come over when he wanted to, but Steve is running a little late, so Bucky is just waiting around and decided to snoop around a bit...)

*knock, knock* Bucky tapped on the door. Although Steve had given him his apartment keys, he still wanted to give him privacy and let him open the door when he was up for company. Screw it. He thought. The jingle of his keychain filled the air as he separated the keys from one another to find the correct one. Ahah! He pulled out a slim key and inserted it into the lock, then twisting. As he opened the door and let himself in, the apartment smelled of lemon and flower candles. Bucky adored the scent, and inhaled deeply, enjoying the aroma. Before he decided to relax, he put on some music and dropped his keys on the coffee table. He walked over to the couch that laid beside the window, and proceeded to open the curtains to let the natural light seep in, then sat down. He placed his strong hands behind his head as he waited, gazing all around the place. Sarah always kept the apartment spotless, but as soon as she died, Steve barely maintained it. He tried his best to clean up when he could, but it was difficult when he was working 24/7 to pay for the place (and it was especially difficult since he fell into a state of depression and had no motivation to do anything) As Bucky continued to look around the main room, he spotted a small book on the countertop in the kitchen. Steve's sketchbook. He always wondered what beautiful drawings it held. Steve had shown him some loose sketches before, like of flowers and random stuff, but he had noticed that Steve always kept the book to himself, not even showing Sarah. Steve was talented for sure, and every person that had met him knew it. He felt a wave of temptation wash over him. No, that's too personal. Maybe there's a reason he's not showing me. He contemplated it for a moment, still having his hands behind his head. I'll just look at the first few. As he stood up, he stretched, then picked up the book and sat back down on the leather couch. He rubbed his fingers on the side of the black cover, and took out a red silky bookmark connected to the book. He flipped open to the first page and was surprised to see a detailed sketch of himself... sleeping? He chuckled aloud. So that's what Stevie does after I fall asleep. He brushed it off and flipped to the next page. What? Another picture of him, this time with him and Steve. He tried not to think much of it, but it made him very curious as to what the rest of the book held. He looked closely at the drawing and examined it. It was definitely a good reflection of Steve's skill. It was lovely; just a simple sketch of Steve and himself facing one another. Probably just studying anatomy again and trying out some new stuff. He flipped to the following page, extremely similar to the previous, yet him and Steve were significantly closer to one another. He raised an eyebrow, but he was actually pleased... he liked the drawing quite a bit, and enjoyed it for a while. He flipped through more and more pages, realizing that he was in. Every. Single. One. As he went on, he realized that they got more and more... sensual? At the page right before the last one that was used, he found a drawing where him and his friend were getting quite personal.

He began to get confused. Looking back on the whole thing he thought, Why the hell would he just want to draw me? He had never admitted it to himself, but he did have feelings for Steve. Seeing all these pictures made him feel sick to his stomach. He shook his head no, and placed the book down on his lap, then buried his face in his hands. No, no, no. He doesn't mean it this way, it's just your nasty mind! Stop it! He tried to shake the thoughts out of his head. He hated feeling this way, it seemed so wrong to him. He thought about what happened only around a month before, when he realized the extent of his feelings.
After Sarah had died, Steve decided to drink himself away at the nearest pub and get shit-faced. He already knew that Steve would be there, that's where they always went to party and drink. As he walked in, he saw Steve's head facing down on the counter as he sat in a stool way too big for his tiny stature. Bucky noticed that his seat began to tip over, and he rushed over. He quickly pulled it back up before Steve could fall out. Steve slowly looked over.
"Oh~ heyyy, Buuucky." He pulled Steve out from his seat and placed his arm around his neck and held onto it, dragging him along with where he walked.
"What's happenin'?" He hiccuped.
"We're leaving." Steve tried to protest, yet failed and hung onto Bucky.
"Wait a secooond." Bucky stopped and faced Steve.
"What, Steve? We need to get home!" Steve sloppily grabbed his cheeks and pushed his lips on Bucky's. The kiss tasted of liquor, but was gentle.
"You-ou're pretty great, pal." Bucky sat there for a moment, just thinking, What the fuck? He continued to helped him walk.
"Shut up and walk, Steve." He smiled a bit and continued to walk with him on his arm.
As much as he didn't want to admit it, he enjoyed it. He didn't believe that it was authentic though, since we was drunk after all. He knew Steve didn't remember it since he was so drunk, and he wanted to keep it that way (or so it seemed). He buried his hands in his face as he turned red. It's not like we could ever be together, he thought. I'm taking this out of context completely, I'm sure he didn't even mean for these to seem this way. Here, he picked up the book again. Let's see what else there is. He flipped back to the page where he left off and slowly flipped to the next page, hoping it was going to be something different. His hopeful thinking must've not worked, since he was greeted with more pictures that confused his feelings. As he looked at the final picture before the blank pages started, he knew that Steve thought of him as more than just a friend.

Oh, lord. He took a hand and covered his eyes. What am I gonna tell him? Is he gonna tell me? He quickly stood back up and perfectly placed the sketchbook in it's original spot on the counter. As he paced around the room, he couldn't clear his mind in the slightest. He knew that Steve liked him as a friend, but he didn't know that he liked him in that way. The incident that happened made so much more sense now. It wasn't that he was just drunk, he couldn't hold back his feelings back because he was drunk. At a poor attempt to calm himself down, he sat down and leaned back on the couch, covering his eyes. It's fine, whatever, he's felt this way and everything has been normal. I've felt this way, and everything was fine. Yup, everything's just fine. As he sat on the couch, he heard the familiar noise of a jingle of some keys outside the door. Shit. The door slowly opened, and Steve entered. Without even looking over Steve began to say, "Looks like you beat me here, pal." He didn't smile, nor show any interest. It was obvious that he had had a less than pleasant day at work.
"I just had to stop by my family's place, and then I was on my way here," Bucky stated. Steve froze as he walked by the counter, looking dangerously close to the sketchbook. Bucky nervously wondered if he noticed that he had moved his book.
"I love this song," he said as he unfroze, grabbed a deck of cards, and walked over to the couch.
"Let's play."
-
They played numerous card games and caught up. Steve seemed very relaxed the whole time, but Bucky was visibly uncomfortable.
"What's up, Bucky?" Steve asked curiously.
"Whatcha mean?"
"Like, is something bothering you? You look stressed. Didn't think it would hurt to ask, maybe let you get some stuff off your mind." Steve patted him on the shoulder.
"Nah, I'm fine." He smiled and nodded. "I'm fine."
"Hmmm... okay." Steve looked down at his hand of cards, and looked back up.
"Is it- well, I know it's that, but... are you mad?"
Bucky leaned back and looked at him.
"Mad? Is there something wrong? I'm not understanding." He turned red.
"Buck, I'm not stupid." He pointed to the sketchbook across the room. A red piece of silk laid on the outside of the cover. "You didn't put the bookmark back in." Bucky immediately turned as red as a fire engine, and he covered his face with his hands.
"I'm sorry, Steve, I shouldn't have looked in there." Bucky looked up. "It was so stupid, I should've known better than to do that." They stared at one another.
"Are you... mad?" Steve asked gently.
"No, no... I just wish you would have told me you had feelings for me." Steve furrowed his brow and slanted his head.
"Why? So I could ruin our friendship even earlier? No, thanks."
"You didn't ruin anything." The room was consumed with silence.
"What do ya mean?" Steve shook his head. "You should think I'm a homosexual freak." Bucky grabbed his shoulders.
"I would never think that of you. Do you think that of me?"
"Why would I think that of you? You don't even like men." Bucky tilted his head and had an unamused expression.
"Steve," He paused and grabbed Steve's cheeks. "I like you." Steve's eyes widened and his pupils began to dilate.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me until now?!"
"For the same reasons you didn't tell me!" Steve leaned back and looked at the ceiling.
"So," he continued gazing. "You... like me?" Bucky looked slightly nervous, maybe even scared.
"Yeah."
Steve looked back down. "What does that mean for us?"
"I'm not sure." He grabbed Steve's hand and placed a hand below and above it. "But I'm glad we both know about this."
"Me, too."