Stucky Halloween: 2020

Klimt

Bucky wasn't an artist by any measure, but he sure knew a damned piece of work when he saw one.

Enter Steve Rogers, a painter who had essentially taken over his little coffee shop; as a famous artist, Steve was often swarmed in little Barnes' Bakery and Bucky therefore got little attention.

He just wanted to sell coffee and baked goods, but no. The universe had another idea for that.

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"Look, I'm no Gustav Klimt," Steve said bashfully as he sat sketching one day. Bucky eyed him from across the cafe after finishing brewing a pot of coffee. "It's something I just... had a knack for, and I chased it."

Bucky tried not to roll his eyes. Something about this guy just... irked him, he supposed. 

When Steve's flock of sheep finally left him to his work, Bucky sidled up to him, wiping down his drink tray. "It's no Portrait of A Lady," he said as he glanced over his shoulder. "But you clearly pull from Klimt, right?"

Steve lifted his eyes, calm and bright. Bucky didn't hold his gaze. "I tend to get my inspiration from Brooklyn post-1930's and a general appreciation for beauty in the average person." He spoke casually and turned back to his painting. 

Bucky contemplated saying some scathing remark; would've if he'd even understood what exactly Steve'd said. His confusion seemed to not go unnoticed; Steve tried to make it clearer. "Brooklyn home. People? Pretty."

"Yeah, got it, thanks," Bucky said mildly. "I'm just saying that Klimt is reflected in your works," he said intelligently. Steve smiled up at him.

"I'll take that as a compliment, then." He grinned and Bucky tried to act sour against that easy-going smile, teasing in a comfortable way. Bucky propped his tray on his hip and stared at him. 

"Can I get you anything else?" 

"Could I get a refill, please?" His voice was soft, attention focused on his work once more. Bucky pursed his lips and nodded, ignoring the tugging of his chest. 

Glancing around the near empty cafe, Bucky sighed and got back to work. 

////

An opportunity arose. Steve Rogers was a famous artist, and if Bucky could get the word out that a certain Steve Rogers often ate at this quiet and underground cafe...

"I need your help." Bucky slid into the seat across from Steve, hands folded on the table beside Steve's latest painting. Steve carefully slid the painting away from him; Bucky watched the movement. "Look, I... you're good, right? You're getting your name out there?"

Steve looked bashful. "Well, trying -- "

"Don't be modest," Bucky said with a small wave. "Could you help me? Publicity-wise?" He pulled at the hems of his sweater sleeves. "Please?"

Steve smiled, cocked his head. "Will you make fun of slash compliment my works?"

Bucky looked at him, frowning a little. "Yes to both?"

"If you can give me some constructive criticism, I'd love that," he said earnestly. "Always ways to improve."

Bucky nodded patiently, acknowledging with a heavy heart that his business relies on none other than a seemingly arrogant artist with a too-charming smile and beautiful, warm eyes. 

Crap. 

////

Steve's art slowly took a bit of a turn from Klimt to a sharper, more acute and contemporary era of works over the next three months into boosting Bucky's business and getting some extra free coffee for his troubles. 

He lifted his head and heaved a sigh, rubbing his aching eyes. A cooling cup of vanilla coffee sat beside him, almost forgotten. Bucky must've topped it off for him. 

"How's it going?" Bucky was suddenly behind him, idly studying the painting. Steve had been nearly motionless for hours, the only movements the gentle and sharp brushes of black paint, stark against the bright canvas. flecks of gold leaf decorated the top right corner, and when Steve leaned back to focus, the shape of a figure appeared out of the minute details in the shadowing and gold leaf; a portrait of none other than a Mr. Bucky Barnes. 

Bucky didn't seem to make the connection as quickly as Steve did; face red, he shook his head and continued to work. "Good, good," Steve said absently. "Sorry, I didn't realise I'd been here for so long... "

"Hey, you're bringin' in business, stay as long as you need." He paused, looked down. "Hey, um -- thank you, by the way. Sorry I didn't like you sooner."

Steve looked betrayed. "You didn't like me?" he whispered dramatically and Bucky shrugged absently, resting his hands on the back of Steve's chair. 

"I do now! I do," he praised and grinned at him. "It looks good, Steve," he said in earnest and realised he actually meant it; he was growing attached to Rogers. Steve smiled up at him, a gentle and warm look, and Bucky's heart tugged once more in his chest. 

"Thank you."

The silence continued to wash over them and Bucky was uncomfortably aware of how close they were. Clearing his throat, he stepped away and smiled shyly. 

"Of course, Steve." He nodded to the coffee. "Better, uh, finish that while it's hot."

Steve smiled softly after him as Bucky drifted further into the back of the cafe. Shaking his head fondly, Steve threw himself back into his work. 

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This idea was going somewhere and it was suddenly the 30th so...