A/N: More Marvel! I'm really on a Marvel kick right now, so this probably isn't the last you'll see of me. I really wanted to try and write a Romanogers since I already tackled Steggy and I'm not that picky about who Steve is paired with. Plus, I wanted to do one that focused on the drawing aspect of him. And this was born. Also, the Russian is from Google Translate and I know it's not the best, so if it's wrong it's because I know no Russian. I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not now, nor this ever will be mine.

Brushstrokes
"Steve, are you dying? I thought you were over it?"
He coughed again, not nearly as rough as the last time, and waved Bucky's concern away. "I'll be fine. I already missed almost four weeks of classes; I can't afford to miss anymore."
Bucky frowned. "I thought you finished all your assignments for your classes?"
Steve packed his sketchbook in his bag. "For most of them, yes."
"Then what's left?"
He slung his bag over his shoulder and sighed. "I missed the week my drawing class was suppose to go over life drawing. My professor wants me to go in extra to make it up."
Bucky's face lit up with recognition. "Isn't that the naked drawing?"
Steve face palmed and slide his hand down his face. "Yes Bucky as you so elegantly put it is the 'naked drawing'."
Bucky flung himself on the top bunk. "I wish I was an art major. Getting to see girls naked without them hitting you. And in real life."
"That's not what it's about. It's about the way the human body is shaped. How bones stick out or how muscles flex. The movement, the structure. Also, they're not always women, sometimes it's guys."
Bucky looked up from his laptop. "On second thought, I'm glad I'm not an art major."
Steve laughed and opened the door. "See you in a couple hours."
-o-O-o-
Steve walked into the classroom studio and placed his bag down on the floor. He pulled out his long sketchbook and placed it on one of the open easels. He looked around the empty room wondering where the model was. He checked his phone to make sure he had the right time before sitting down and pulling out an anatomy book. He browsed through a couple pages, looking at his notes before taking off his shoes and socks. While hands have always been a constant subject for art Steve rarely saw any drawings of feet and felt bad for the neglected appendage. He moved his foot around until he found an angle he liked and began to draw. Graphite etched across the creamy paper creating curves and lines. Steve settled into deep concentration and didn't notice someone else was in the room until he heard a pair of sneakers squeak up to him. He looked up and saw a curvy red head staring back down at him. "Are you Steve Rogers?"
He stood up and coughed a bit to clear his throat. "Yes. Are you my model? My professor didn't tell me who was coming."
The red head slipped her over the shoulder purse off her head and set it on the ground. "Natasha Romanoff. I guess we better get started."
She reached down and quickly undid the laces on her shoes, kicking them to the side along with her socks. As she reached the hem of her tee shirt to start pulling it over her head Steve looked away and rummaged through his bag for different pencils and an eraser, anything to avoid the view of the women undressing beside him. He fumbled with a pencil and reached down to grab it and caught a glance of Natasha's creamy ankle. He flipped to a new page in his sketchbook and took a deep breath. He heard her feet pad over to the center before stopping. "I'm ready. You can start drawing now."
Steve slowly looked around the easel and saw Natasha sitting on the ground leaned forward, mostly covering everything to Steve's delight. He began to sketch, trying to recreate all the curves she was made of. The awkward moments penetrated between them were only filled with their breathing and the scratch of Steve's pencil on the paper. "So, how come you're doing this assignment so late? Everyone else finished last week and I never saw you at any of the sessions."
Steve glanced at her face for reference and continued to draw. "I had pneumonia. Coupled with my asthma it took a while to get over the worse part. Thankfully I didn't get the worst case you could possibly get."
Natasha raised an eyebrow, making Steve glad he was far from penciling in her features. "How can a man like you have asthma?"
Steve let out a deep laugh, which switched to a deep, barky cough. He reached into his pocket for his emergency inhaler and shook it quickly before pressing the top and breathing in the medicine. He puffed out his held in breath and waited to make sure he wouldn't need to take another puff. "I just have asthma. My mom had me play outside to help and I was able to do some sports if I had my inhaler on hand. Only gets bad now if I'm sick. Like this."
Natasha nodded and went back to posing, making Steve feel like an idiot for talking to the beautiful woman in front of him about asthma. He drew with new fervor, entranced by the shadows and light that spilled over her body. He was entrapped with everything about her from her wavy locks to the nail polishing chipping off her toenails. Steve looked down at his watch and saw that two hours had passed. "Do you want to call it a night?"
Without warning Natasha stood up to yawn, giving Steve a full view of what she had been hiding all night. "Sure, you'll still have to do two make up sketches in a different position. I'll see you tomorrow then."
Steve tried to hide behind his easel, his face tinged pink. "Uh...yeah that sounds fine."
He heard the distinct shuffle of jeans being picked up off a floor and other articles of clothing. "Okay then. Same time?"
"Sure. See you then."
Natasha's head peeked over the easel with a grin. "Bye, Steve." She left the studio with a bit of spin. Steve quickly stashed his supplies into his bag and ran out the door. He looked to the left and saw Natasha's red hair bouncing in the breeze. "Hey! Natasha!"
She turned around, still walking, and smiled. "Can't get enough of me, Rogers?"
"No, it's just...thanks."
She raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
"For helping me."
She smiled. "No problem." She turned around walking away, leaving Steve grinning.
-o-O-o-
"Was she hot? I bet she was hot. Can I see the drawings?"
Steve clutched his bag to his chest. "No Bucky. It's between me and Natasha."
Bucky grinned. "Natasha. So it was a chick. No wonder you were gone for so long."
Steve sighed and gently tossed his bag onto his swivel chair. "Bucky, please. It's just an assignment."
"An assign-hey what was that for?" Steve had smacked Bucky upside the head.
"Stop being such an ass about it."
Bucky put his hands up. "I surrender." He climbed down from the top bunk and landed next to Steve. "So when are you going to see her again?"
Steve booted up his laptop and looked behind his shoulder at Bucky. "Tomorrow. We're continuing where I left off."
Bucky clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder before heading out the door. "Where are you going?"
Bucky stuck his head back in the dorm room. "Out. I've got a date."
Steve rolled his eyes and waved Bucky out the door. "Go. Just don't bring her back here."
-o-O-o-
Natasha was late again so Steve decided to draw her from his memory. With the blank paper in front of him he worked on a few quick sketches before settling on one and grabbed his color pencils and began to capture her fiery red hair. The locks framed her face; the bold color standing out against the stark white. He switched to a soft blue and began to shade her eyes, the color popping off the page. "Is this how we're always going to meet?"
Steve looked up and saw Natasha smiling down at him. "I came here a bit early in case you were already here."
"I was taking an exam. Sorry I wasn't able to tell you."
Steve quickly shut his sketchbook and pulled out his class sketchbook and placed it on the easel. "It's alright. I don't mind." He pulled out the pencils he would need and sat them on the edge of the easel. He looked behind the easel and saw Natasha had already posed, this time standing up and looking relaxed. Steve blushed faintly. "Um...you're okay with that...um how you're standing."
Natasha broke her stance and looked over at Steve. "Yeah. You're professor had me do a few poses standing up so that the other students could get in some leg work." She resumed her pose and winked over her shoulder at Steve.
He relaxed and began to draw her. Today the nail polish was gone and he was fascinated in the way light seemed to ripple across her stomach and down her legs. He frowned at the sight of scarring on her stomach and her shoulder, but he brushed it off since he didn't want to pry. A light breeze from the air conditioning caused her hair to graze her face and raise goose bumps across her skin. "Do you want me to turn down the air conditioning?"
Natasha chuckled. "I'm fine. I honestly don't notice anymore."
"Oh." Steve concentrated on his drawing again and wrapped himself in his thoughts. Time seemed to shrink and the sun began to sink outside; the last rays of sunlight peeking their way through blinds. Steve looked at his drawing and let out a sigh of satisfaction. "I think we're good. See you tomorrow?"
Natasha finished tugging on her sweater and was pulling her hair out from under its collar. "Actually I thought we could grab a bite to eat. Make up for coming in late and all of that."
Steve slung his bag over his shoulder. "I'm the one you're coming in for. If it wasn't for me you wouldn't even be having to come in extra. You don't need to feel obligated to do anything."
Natasha slipped her arm around Steve's arm and guided him to the door. "It's one dinner. Perfectly fine. You'll love it."
-o-O-o-
"Hmm...how did I not know this place existed?"
Natasha laughed and swirled the ice in her glass with a straw. "I thought you would, being a New Yorker and all."
Steve stopped eating the slice of pizza and stared at Natasha. "When did I tell you I was from New York?"
She pointed at the pizza in his hand. "You fold it. I never see people eat it like that unless they're New Yorkers or tourists pretending to be New Yorkers. And maybe an occasionally New Englander."
Steve smiled. "Well it is the only way to eat pizza."
She shook her head. "Out in the Midwest you just hold it with two hands or with one and it eat it like so." She grabbed a piece and held it with both hands before biting down between layers of cheese, sauce and crust.
Steve gave her a concerned look. "I'm trying to decide if that was blasphemy or not."
She smiled and swallowed. "I didn't eat it with a fork."
"Exactly. Who even does that? I always saw pizza as the perfect finger food."
Natasha grinned and licked sauce and oil from her fingers. "So, what burrow are you from?"
"Brooklyn. Where exactly are you from?"
"Here. My father is the Ambassador for the Russian Embassy, but one time we took a road trip to see what America was like."
"Do you know any Russian?"
"да, но я только говорю это вокруг мой родители," Natasha replied quickly.
Steve blinked. "I have no idea what you just said."
"I said yes, but I only speak it around my parents." She looked down at her watch and sighed. "I'd love to stay with you longer, but I have an eight o clock class. I'll see you tomorrow Steve." She grabbed her coat and purse and stood up to leave.
"Wait, let me at least walk you to your dorm room."
She turned her head towards Steve. "Okay."
-o-O-o-
Steve had kept close to Natasha the whole time they were walking back to the dorms in the dark, making sure she was safe. They walked down the hallway and Natasha stopped in front of a door. "This is me. Thanks for walking me home."
Steve smiled. "The pleasure was mine. And thank you for finding me a better place to get pizza besides the cafeteria."
Natasha laughed and the door behind her opened. A brunette poked her head out and looked between Steve and Natasha. "Good, I just wanted to make sure you weren't talking to yourself again, Nat."
She sighed and stared at the brunette. "I have never once talked to myself, Maria." The brunette shrugged her shoulders and closed the door. "Roommates." Natasha rocked back on her heels. "So, good night." She leaned up and kissed Steve on the cheek before sneaking into her dorm room.
-o-O-o-
Even on the last day Natasha kept the tradition of arriving late. Steve pulled out some pens and began to mindlessly sketch: the easel resting on its side, the blinds covering the window sill, his fingers, her fingers, his reflection distorted by the frosted window. She came in flushed and breathing hard. Steve noticed the change from her usual entrance and went over to her quickly. "What's wrong?"
Natasha took in a deep breath. "Nothing, just that my roommate brought a guy over and I had to leave before it got PG-13, let along NR."
Steve laughed and ran his fingers through her hair, feather light like brushstrokes. He looked down at her and gulped in some air. "Uh-I'll get my stuff ready." He left Natasha and grabbed his sketch book and pens, abandoning the easel. She was already down to nothing and was sitting in front of him, as if she was talking to him. He sat down in front of her and began to sketch; his pen squeaking across the paper's slick surface. He drew carefully, this time focusing on the way her shoulders sloped down and the weight of her breasts as they moved up and down while she breathed. He observed the way her fingers splayed across her knee and thigh and the way her legs crossed under themselves. He continued to look up at her face and her shining eyes back down to his paper where she was coming alive. Steve was becoming over aware of her presence and swore he could feel her breathe on him. He smiled down at his work and looked back up at Natasha to see her smiling at him. "Hello."
Steve cleared his throat. "Hello."
She leaned forward and kissed Steve gently at first, before she pushed him over and on to the ground. She broke away and Steve looked back up at her. "Hello."
Natasha laughed. "Hello."
Steve pushed her back into a sitting position and gestured to the pile of her clothes laid forgotten to the side. "Maybe you'd like to. You know. Put on some clothes?"
She rolled her eyes and pulled her clothes on quickly before grabbing Steve's hand. "Let me grab something from my dorm room and then we'll go to yours."
-o-O-o-
Natasha slammed her hand on her dorm room door. "Maria, I'm coming in!" She opened the door and Steve heard the telltale sign of sheets covering naked bodies.
"Nat, not all of us are as okay with our bodies like you."
She rummaged through a drawer in search of something. "Bullshit. I do life drawings because I'm conscious of my body. Steve, you can come in. Not like you haven't seen naked people before."
Not wanting to intrude Steve settled on awkwardly standing in the doorway. "Hey Steve. Fancy meeting you here."
He looked up at the top bunk where Maria was trying to cover herself more with a sheet and Bucky was grinning down at him. "So I take it the date went well."
"Of course it did, punk."
"Jerk."
Natasha grabbed some tubes of paint and paint brushes from the drawer and shut it. "Come on Steve."
"Go get her, Steve," shouted Bucky as the door shut.
-o-O-o-
Natasha shut and locked the door to the dorm and spread her supplies out on Steve's desk. "You know I have paint and brushes here."
She grabbed a red plastic cup, looked inside and opened up a tube of paint with a sucking POP before squeezing the deep, royal blue inside. "Yeah, but I need this paint. Now take off your shirt."
"What," asked Steve confused.
She grabbed the bottom of her shirt and mimicked pulling it over her head. "Shirt off."
Steve gave her a questioning look, but pulled his shirt off over his head. "Okay, now what."
She stared hard at him as if analyzing the best spot to smear paint over him. "You might as well lose your pants. I don't want to get paint on them either."
He hesitated before unzipping his jeans and sliding them down his legs. "But it's okay for my underwear to get paint on them?"
She shrugged her shoulders and poured paint into different cups. "If you don't want to chance it take them off."
Steve seriously contemplated it, but decided against it. "So what are you doing?"
Natasha put a finger across Steve's lips and smiled. "Telling you wouldn't be fun. You'll have to wait for me to finish." She pulled Steve and Bucky's chairs together and motioned for him to sit in his while she sat in Bucky's. "It's going to be cold and probably tickle." Steve raised his eyebrows and then felt the tickle of the bristles on the brush glide on his back. The paint felt wet on his skin and the edges of it began to dry as she dragged the brush across his back. He let his hands rest on the back of the chair and he relaxed as she delved into a type of concentration Steve was familiar with. The silence lulled him into a sleepy state. "I didn't know you painted."
He felt the brush pause before continuing. "A bit of a hobby. I like to use different mediums; hence this."
He nodded and she continued creating. He tried to make sense of the movement of the brush and the way it swirled on his back, but he was at loss of what she was designing. He watched as the sky turned from a rosy peach, to a deep magenta, before finishing as a soft orange. She hummed quietly under her breath and he strummed his fingers across the back of the chair. He heard the chair creak and the groan of stagnate muscles and limbs moving. "Just let me take a picture and then you can see it." He nodded and he waited as she pulled out her phone and took a view quick pictures. Natasha grabbed his hand and moved him towards the full length mirror in the corner of the room. "Okay, now look."
Steve angled his head to catch a glimpse at what she had been working on. She had painted the Stars and Stripes across his shoulders and down his side and it bled into Russia's flag underneath it. Both flags rippled as he moved to look at every angle. As he moved his head he noticed something that looped around his left side. "What's that?"
"It's Russian."
"For?"
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders carefully. "My love."
He rested his hands on her hips. "I love you."
She grabbed a paint brush and painted a quick white star across his chest. "I love you too."
He smiled and grabbed a paint brush and drew a red stripe across her face. She laughed and pulled him closer to kiss him, neither cared about the smudging paint.