AN: Hello, darling readers, and welcome to this little oneshot. This was inspired by the following prompt:
"I cut myself really badly in Printmaking and I'm trying not to bleed everywhere, turns out you carry a bunch of first aid supplies in your bag" AU
I do not own anything you recognize. If I did, I would have a car by now.
Enjoy!
"FUCK!"
The shout from the studio next door startled Steve enough that he jumped about a mile. He'd thought he was the only one in the building. Suppose that's not true then. For a few moments, there was relative silence from the neighboring printmaking studio, save for some rustling of papers and clunking of plastic, but it was broken again by another shout.
"God damn it!" whoever it was cursed loudly. Curious and a bit concerned now, Steve put down his charcoal and got up from his drawing horse to see what the hell was going on in printmaking. He poked his head in the doorway and saw that there was only one person in there.
She was a short girl, with long-ish brown hair and a figure that begged to be drawn, and she was hunched over something at one of the many ink-stained tables. Steve knocked on the doorframe to get her attention. At the noise, she jumped a bit and whirled around to face him. He noticed that she was cradling one hand in the other.
"Shit, man, don't scare me like that!" she said emphatically.
"Sorry," Steve apologized with a shrug. "I was just next door in drawing when I heard a very loud 'fuck' and an equally loud 'goddammit' and thought I'd check to see if everything was alright in here."
"I think the 'goddammit' was a little quieter than the 'fuck,' but whatever," she said with a little grin on her red lips. "I just cut myself, that's all," she said, nodding to her hand. "And of course the first aid kit in here doesn't have any band-aids, so that's great. Well, there are, like, two band-aids, but I'm pretty sure they're from the sixties and I do not trust them."
"How bad is it?" Steve asked, approaching her now and extending a hand to her, wordlessly asking to see her cut.
"It's not that bad," she said, though she did give him her hand. The V-shaped cut on the side of her hand was still bleeding.
"Not that bad?" Steve repeated her words with a skeptical eyebrow. She gave him a sheepish smile. Steve sighed, but he smiled back at her still. "Come on," he said, nodding towards the door to the drawing studio. He led the way and she followed, cradling her hand again.
"You go clean that, I've got some first aid stuff in my backpack," he said, pointing her towards the sink.
It wasn't long before she was back from the sink, and Steve had gotten out his smaller first aid kit.
"Wow, you're prepared - were you a boy scout or something?" she remarked, making Steve chuckle.
"For a two years when I was a kid," he said with a shrug. "Take a seat and give me your hand." She obliged and Steve got to work, opening up a disinfectant wipe. She winced when the disinfectant touched her wound, but kept still for Steve to do what needed to get done.
"You're doing all this for me and I don't even know your name," she remarked while he was digging out his neosporin.
"I don't know yours either," he countered.
"Fair enough, but I asked first."
"Steve Rogers."
"Nice to meet'cha, Steve," she said with a grin. "I'm Darcy, Darcy Lewis."
"Nice to meet you too, Darcy," Steve said, looking up from her hand where he had just finished patching her up. "Even if it was under bloody circumstances," he added with a teasing grin. Darcy rolled her eyes at him.
"You're the one with a fucking hospital in your backpack," she said. Steve shrugged and lifted a hand to rub the back of his head.
"That's nothing," he said, "for graduation, my best friend from home gave me this huge-ass first aid kit, I'm talking a case as big as a sheet of drawing paper," he explained, sending Darcy into a fit of giggles. "No lie, he said that if he wasn't going to be around to get me out of trouble, I should at least be able to take care of myself when I inevitably fuck up. His words."
"That's pretty damn hilarious," Darcy said once her laughter calmed down enough to speak.
"Yeah, Bucky sure has a sense of humor."
"Well, you better tell him how useful that first aid kit ended up being," she said, making a ballsy decision and reaching for a sheet of newsprint and a nub of charcoal as she spoke. "Not only did you get to play the knight in shining armor for the appreciative damsel in distress," she went on - she swore she caught him blushing at that, "but it also got you a pretty girl's number." Darcy finished what she had been scrawling on the newsprint and reached over to set it on the drawing horse that Steve was occupying. She grinned at his shocked face and with a wink, she was on her feet and on her way back to printmaking.
"See you around, Steve!" she called over her shoulder.
"See you around, Darcy," Steve called back, even as he was pulling his phone from his pocket and formulating a new contact for one Darcy Lewis.
9:47 pm
New Text From Steve (Punk) Rogers:
so that huge-ass first aid kit finally came in handy
9:51 pm
New Text From Bucky (Jerk) Barnes:
what in the hell did you do this time?
9:51 pm
Steve (Punk) Rogers:
Wow, Buck, really appreciate your confidence in me. I didn't hurt myself this time, it was a girl in printmaking
9:53 pm
Bucky (Jerk) Barnes:
my little punk's all grown up and talking to girls, I'm so proud
9:54 pm
Steve (Punk) Rogers:
Shut up
9:54 pm
Bucky (Jerk) Barnes:
sure thing, punk.
9:55 pm
Bucky (Jerk) Barnes:
is she hot?
9:58 pm
Bucky (Jerk) Barnes:
Tell me you at least got her number
Steve didn't bother responding to Bucky's last few texts.
Two days after the printmaking incident, Steve worked up the courage to ask Darcy out. They went out for coffee and while they were talking, Bucky's last few texts came up. Darcy had demanded to see them.
She'd let out a snort of laughter and promptly snatched Steve's phone right out of his hands.
2:32 pm
New Text From Steve (Punk) Rogers:
Hey, Bucky, this is Darcy, the girl who had the printmaking accident.
First, yes, I am hot, thank you very much, second, yes, I gave Steve my number, and third, fuck off.
Steve was reading over her shoulder as she typed and was full-out laughing by the time Darcy hit the send button.
She pulled up the camera on his phone and turned it to face front, extending her arm far enough so that the still laughing Steve was visible in the background. Darcy smiled sweetly at the camera, simultaneously flipping it the bird, and snapped the picture, sending it to Bucky. Once Steve's laughter calmed down, he took his phone back and pulled up the photo.
A year later, that picture was still her contact photo in Steve's phone.
Thanks for reading!
If you liked it, let me know why in a review.
Natalie out.