Chapter 6

Learning to Draw Again

Admittedly, Steve felt conflicted with his new perimeter. While it was nice to know his limits, the carefully designed string line felt glaringly like a mocking reminder of what situation he was in. He had found that it was easy to forget if the monitor didn't itch and he didn't look at it, but that would only last for a few minutes. There should've been a warning label on the damn thing, it seemed to always cause him to itch. It was like a bug bite he couldn't get rid of.

Steve walked out onto the front porch and took in a deep breath before taking in his surroundings. The moving van next door was gone and the house was quiet, Steve assumed that they had finally finished the move and are settled in. He sat on the porch swing and just settled in as he listened to the morning birds and the sound of children's peeling laughter and squealing in the distance. Oh, how he loved summer mornings.

The mail man gave him a brief wave before depositing their letters into their mailbox at the end of the driveway before moving onto to his next delivery. Steve nodded back at him and stretched as he stood up. He walked down the front yard casting glances up and down the street just to see if anything had changed in the past week. When no drastic changes leapt out at him he smiled. He looked up across the street to see a small dog running around and playing. Steve watched for a minute before wincing in sympathy as the dog got too close to the edge of the property and was stopped short by a surge of electricity that Steve could hear from his yard.

"I understand, little buddy." Steve muttered before a loud rumbling caught his attention. He looked up to see Peter, a five-year-old kid that lived two houses away from him, rolling down the street on his skateboard. For a little guy, his balance was amazing and he waved enthusiastically at Steve with a big grin on his face. Steve waved back with a shocked smile. "You go, kid."

Getting back to the matter at hand, Steve went to lean over the fence to reach the mailbox. He checked back to make sure his left foot stayed inside the string line as he tried to pull himself closer. He reached out a hand and managed to open it. One step down, one to go. He grunted and shifted as he tried to contort himself into a shape that would allow his hand to reach inside the box to grab the damn letters. He struggled for a while before a voice broke his concentration.

"Need help?"

Steve nearly fell over the fence, which would've been horribly embarrassing, as he jumped in surprise. He looked up to find Tony standing on the other side of the box watching in amusement. Steve laughed breathily as he continued to strain himself.

"No," Steve gasped. "No, I almost got it."

His hand fumbled around, trying to locate the envelopes to latch onto. Tony watched for another minute before he sighed.

"God, if we wait for you to get it, summer will be over." Tony snatched the mail out of the box and snapped the little door shut. "Would it kill you to accept help every now and then?"

Steve stood straight as Tony walked to the driveway. Steve met him and accepted the mail from the outstretched hand.

"I don't know," Steve smiled. "Maybe I was doing that to look impressive."

Tony snorted a laugh. "By cussing out the mail man for thoughtlessly putting the mail too far in the box for you to easily reach as you're half falling over the fence?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" Steve trailed off as Tony laughed. Steve gestured over Tony's shoulder towards the house. "How'd the move go?"

"Oh," Tony glanced back and sighed. "It was fine, I guess."

Tony's face was pinched again and Steve filed it away to ask about later. "I would've helped, but you know," he gestured down to his foot, "I'm a little bit spacially challenged at the moment."

"I noticed." Tony smiled. "How'd that happen by the way?"

"I killed my teacher." Tony chuckled and Steve couldn't help but roll with it. Something about Tony's laugh and smile just made Steve want to keep them going for as long as he could. "Yeah, he flunked me actually, in German. So, I snapped."

"Uh huh," Tony rolled his eyes with a soft smile. "Alright, don't tell me. But you should know, I'm very good at finding out people's secrets. It's like a thing with me. I keep poking and prodding until I get the answers I want. My friend, Rhodey, he always called it torture."

Steve smiled and leaned against the fence post. "That sounds like a challenge to me. Just be careful where you poke and prod, I've been told I'm very ticklish."

"Really?" Tony asked with a peaked eyebrow. "Any places specifically?"

"I don't know if I want to tell you that." Steve responded dryly. "It might be used as a torture technique."

"Alright, mister, challenge accepted." Tony declared. "One of these days I'll set my torturous questioning on you and you will not be able to resist."

"I'm looking forward to it." Steve said as he looked Tony up and down. Tony's cheeks tinged slightly pink and Steve felt a rush at the sight. He made Tony blush.

"Anthony!" A booming voice interrupted their banter. Tony turned and Steve glanced up at the man standing on the porch. Tony's dad.

Tony sighed and turned back to Steve. "Well, I need to go. But we'll hang soon."

Tony turned around and headed back to his house and Steve just stood there watching him. Once he disappeared behind the door, Steve meandered back up to his own house. If he did a little skip up the steps, no one saw and he wasn't going to mention it. He dropped the mail on the coffee table before bounding up the stairs, he paused at the top and he had a brief moment lapse in memory as he wondered where Bucky was to tell him about the boy next door. His heart sank as he remembered his brother's death and he looked at Bucky's door. Steve stepped over to it and his hand hovered over the handle before he took a deep breath and opened it.

The room looked the same as it always did. Except Bucky's bed was made and there weren't clothes all over the place. Steve stepped inside and glanced around. There were trophies from elementary school sport achievements and a few participation awards for their annual science fair, superhero figurines were scattered on shelves and Bucky's bookcase, posters of bikini models and sports cars wallpapered the room. Steve stepped further inside and looked at a shelf crammed with picture frames. He smiled as he looked at each one.

There was one of himself, Bucky and their dad with their arms around each other standing in front of a campsite. This was before their dad started heavily drinking and took his sons on a camping trip every year, the same spot that he and Bucky used to go to long after their dad had died. He and Bucky were barely in elementary school at the time it was taken and they had big toothy grins. The next one was from a party Bucky had dragged him to a couple years ago, they each had a red cup in their hands and their faces were flushed with alcohol. They were standing together and Bucky looked like he was in the middle of telling a tale of adventure, his face full of expression and his non-drinking hand was blurred in movement. Steve's face was nothing but embarrassed so the story must have been about him doing something stupid. On either side of them was a girl, one blonde and the other brunette, and Steve couldn't remember their names if his life depended on it. The next was taken in a hospital when they were in middle school, Steve was laying on the bed with an oxygen mask strapped to his face and Bucky sat on the edge of the bed grinning at the camera. Steve had suffered an asthma attack after he and Bucky sprinted home after school one day because Bucky accidentally kicked a nice sized rock into Mr. Carter's living room window. Steve had eventually grown out of the asthma and finally grew more muscle mass and gained some inches in height just before he entered high school. The last one was of all four of them. Their mom and dad standing shoulder to shoulder, three-year-old Bucky on their dad's hip and two-year-old Steve was being held by their mom. Steve knew that Bucky and their dad had a closer relationship than Steve could ever hope for, but that's because Bucky was more masculine at the time. He always wanted to go outside and kick a ball around and get dirty whereas Steve would rather stay clean and just draw. Steve was never envious of their close relationship, but he had wished he could've been there for Bucky more when their dad died and he had to step into his shoes as Man of the House.

Steve heaved in a breath and shakily let it out before the wetness in his eyes had a chance to fall. He moved to the window and looked out over Tony's backyard. It figured that Bucky would have a better view from his room than Steve did, and not for perverted reasons. There was a room on the second floor that was set back further than the rest of the house. It had a wide window facing Steve and with the blinds up, he could see into the room. There was a long desk under the window with a compute and random looking objects strewn across the surface. The bed was pushed back into the corner, the bedding was neat and tidy indicating that Tony either made his bed in the morning or he never slept in it. The bedroom door opened and Tony walked in and sat down at his desk. He picked up one of the objects and examined it closely. Steve settled down in Bucky's desk chair and watched the concentration on Tony's face and he fiddled with whatever was in his hands.

After about half an hour, Steve felt the inevitable urge to sketch. He looked around for a pencil and paper in the desk drawers and got to work. It was hard to make out the intricate details from as far away as Steve was, but he let his imagination and his few short encounters with the guy take over. Before he knew it, his mom was home and calling him down for dinner and Steve had sketched out three drawings of Tony in four hours. Looking down at his work, he felt a rush he hadn't experienced in over a year. The feeling of home returned with a few rough sketches and Steve was proud to say that he still had his talent. Maybe he would be able to really start drawing again. Maybe he'd be able to go to that art school Bucky had always told him about since he'd seen Steve's very first drawing.

Steve just knew, as he headed down to the kitchen, that something inside him finally felt complete and full. He felt healed and finally, truly, happy.