Never Have I Ever…" pt. 2.6

Chapter 8


After being forced back inside the cabin as the sun set both Steve and Bucky broke out their books. Bucky's was a novel he'd brought with him and Steve's was his sketch book.

Steve went to the kitchen to put on another pot of coffee while Bucky settled against the overstuffed pillows on the futon. It was an interesting piece of furniture, he decided. It was sort of like a full sized bed, but also like a really wide couch. Whatever it was supposed to be, he liked it. So he reclined against the pillows on the far side of it, near the window to give Steve plenty of room to settle on the other side. Reaching up to turn on the floor lamp, he noted that all the lights or light bulbs inside the cabin had a yellowish wash to them which kept the stark white of regular bulbs from chasing away the sense of peacefulness. He looked around the room and realized the hue gave the cabin a "fireplace" effect without having to actually build a fire in the middle of summer. He liked it.

When Steve came back from the kitchen he saw Bucky was already pages deep into his book. He shook his head with a grin and couldn't help feeling like nothing had changed between them after all these years. This could have been a snapshot from 1932 when they'd do this exact same thing to pass quiet time together. Whether they were at Bucky's place on the floor in the living room or at Steve's apartment reclined on his bed, Bucky always had his nose in a book and Steve would settle nearby to sketch.

Steve picked up his sketchbook and pencil and sat down on the futon. It was large enough for both of them to sit comfortably without being on top of each other. He kept one foot on the floor and bent the other leg up on the mattress so he could face Barnes. He flipped open the cover and thumbed his way to a clean page and thought about what to draw. Nothing came readily to mind and he looked over at Bucky as he tried to find inspiration.

He watched Bucky's face as his eyes moved back and forth across the page. Steve grinned as Bucky turned the page without looking up; chewing on his bottom lip as he absently tucked his hair behind his ear. Steve watched him for a few minutes, taking in his posture. He was sitting up, but leaning back against the over-stuffed pillows, his knees were drawn up in front of him to cradle the book. He was wearing a white tee shirt and a pair of light blue jeans. He'd left his shoes next to the door with Steve's when they came back inside so he was now barefoot. Steve realized his inspiration was sitting right in front of him. He flipped to the next clean page and began to sketch.

Except for the gurgling sounds from the coffee maker in the kitchen, the rustle of paper and the scratching of Steve's pencil, time passed in silence. When Bucky turned the page to see Chapter 7 staring back at him he glanced up to see what Steve was doing. He hadn't meant to get so involved with the book that he forgot to talk to Steve, but as he looked over to see Steve's pencil moving with purpose, he grinned. Then Steve glanced up at him only for a moment and continued to sketch. Bucky's brows furrowed and Steve glanced up again then his pencil stopped.

"Read your book," Steve told him. Bucky smiled warmly at him. "Read. Your book," Steve repeated. "I can't finish if you keep moving."

Bucky went back to reading his book but couldn't help himself when he said, "Draw me like one of your French girls."

Steve's pencil suddenly stopped again and he huffed. Bucky tried not to chuckle but failed. Steve looked over at him and said, "She told me she didn't show you that movie. I wanted to watch it with you."

Bucky smiled, remembering how enthralled with "The Titanic" movie Natasha was while they watched it. She might be a lot of things to a lot of people, he'd realized, but he figured he was one of very few people who knew for a fact that Natasha Romanoff was a diehard romantic.

"You and I can still watch it," Bucky told him.

"Shut up and read your book."

Bucky went back to his book.

"Stop smiling."

"Sorry," Bucky replied and only smiled wider when he tried not to smile at all.

Exasperated, Steve put his pencil and pad down with a grin. "Break time," he said and went to the kitchen to pour two mugs of coffee. As he moved around the kitchen Bucky watched him discreetly over the top of his book. He was caught spying when Steve walked back toward him with two steaming mugs and he saw Barnes watching him. Bucky dropped his eyes, pretending to be reading. Steve grinned as he approached. "Here," he said, offering a mug.

"Thanks," Bucky said as he put the book down and sat up, bringing his legs down to sit Indian style. He sipped the brew as Steve settled again on the futon. "I really like it here," Bucky told him.

"I knew you would," Steve said after taking a sip.

"Can we stay here?"

"Forever?" Steve asked for clarification.

"Well…" Bucky said thoughtfully, "for a while?"

"Yeah, we can stay for a while," Steve assured him that he wasn't going to hurry their return to the compound.

As Steve sipped his coffee, Bucky reached out and snagged the sketch pad, pulling it toward him. Steve watched him as he flipped through the other varied sketches until he got to the blank page. He looked at Steve as if to ask permission to look at it and Steve grinned with a nod.

Bucky flipped up the blank page to see the rendering of himself from Steve's point of view. It was a great sketch and Bucky's chest tightened a little; seeing himself through Steve's eyes. The focus of his gaze on the book, the softness of the hair tucked behind his ear; even the expression on his face was softer than he ever felt lately and he'd encircled the sketch with a soft smudge that gave the impression of peeping through a keyhole. Bucky swallowed, not realizing how much Steve saw in him that he didn't actually see in himself.

"Is it okay?" Steve asked quietly, seeing the play of emotions on Bucky's face.

Bucky nodded and closed the sketch book. He took a deep breath and sipped his coffee then said. "Yeah, it's great… but you didn't sketch me like one of your girls."

"Well," Steve grinned, "that's because you're not a girl… and you didn't actually pose properly."

Bucky looked at him, considering. He wondered what Steve would do if he did actually pose for him. Normally, he wouldn't think of doing such a thing, but having seen that he was safe in Steve's hands… safe at the end of his pencil, he seriously considered it. He leaned forward and put his coffee mug on top of the bookcase next to the futon. As he returned to his position he pulled his tee shirt off and dropped it on the floor. He looked at Steve, who was watching him intently. Bucky took a moment to decide how to do this and then simply repositioned the pillows under the window and leaned back on his right elbow, stretching his legs toward Steve he crossed them at the ankles.

Steve just looked at him for a moment and then smiled; realizing the trust Bucky was showing him. He knew this had to be difficult for him. Bucky had made it pretty clear that he thought his body was an ugly thing now. Steve didn't see it that way, but it was Bucky's sense of self that mattered more. Steve had the opportunity now to show Bucky exactly how he saw him.

Steve picked up his sketch book and placed his mug on the floor. He propped a pillow up behind his back and made himself comfortable. Then he tapped Bucky's foot.

"Bend your legs, get comfortable," he told him.

Bucky pulled his legs up, bending at the knees. His left leg was against the back of the futon and bent vertically with his foot planted on the mattress; the other resting horizontally and his foot under the other leg.

Steve nodded and then noticed Bucky was trying to hide his metal arm behind his raised knee. "Bring your left hand down to rest against your belly," he told him, directing him as an artist would direct a model and doing his best to not make it appear that he noticed the attempt to hide. Bucky looked reluctant for a moment then did as Steve asked. "Good, now… shift your shoulders slightly that way… good," he said as Bucky followed his directions. "Can you hold that position for a while?" he asked to be sure his friend was comfortable. Bucky nodded. "Okay… I want you to look right here," Steve told him pointing at his own eyes. "Right at me, okay?" Bucky nodded and held that pose for nearly forty-five minutes.

He'd felt a little self-conscious when it was obvious Steve was drawing his face because he studied Bucky's face down to the tiniest details. Bucky had to swallow a few times to keep his nerves under control. Steve noticed his discomfort but allowed him to work through it on his own as long as he was able. Steve didn't think it was actually possible for Barnes to look more uncomfortable until he began to draw the metal arm in detail. Bucky was very much aware that Steve was staring at the monstrosity, but the expression on Steve's face remained constant; he didn't shy away from it nor did he opt to do a quick perfunctory facsimile of it… Steve gave the arm as much artistic consideration as he had Bucky's mouth or eyes.

The time actually flew by as Bucky had gotten lost in his own thoughts while being made to look at Steve. As he watched, Steve would sketch and then rub his finger on the paper to blend then he'd sketch some more and flip the pencil to erase something and flip it back again to continue. Bucky's eyebrows knitted together as the action forced him to see himself as the Winter Soldier flipping his knives in combat against his opponents… against Steve at one point.

Steve looked up at him and paused. Bucky's gaze was focused inward and he had a sour expression on his face. "Hey," he said, trying to draw him back out from wherever he went inside his own head. Bucky blinked and re-focused, realizing he'd lost his focus.

"Sorry."

"Where did you go there?" Steve asked, concerned. Bucky shook his head and focused his attention on Steve's face again. "Done," Steve told him. He flipped the cover closed but left his thumb in place as he waited for Bucky's answer. "Do you want to see it?"

Bucky thought about it and then shook his head no. It didn't surprise Steve because something had happened in that last few minutes. "Not right now," Bucky told him.

"Okay," Steve replied and removed his thumb from the book to let it close. He placed the sketch book on the floor and slid it under the futon so he wouldn't slide on it when he got up. "It's getting kind of late. You ready to call it a night?"

"Yeah," Bucky nodded. He rolled to his right and reached down to the floor to retrieve his tee shirt. He donned it again quickly and Steve stood up, grabbing his own mug from the floor near his feet and then Bucky's from the bookcase.

"You can take the bed, if you like," Steve told him and Bucky frowned.

"No, it's your bed. I'll be fine out here."

"I've slept in both places before," Steve told him with a grin. "I don't mind sleeping out here."

"No, I'll sleep here. You take the bedroom," Bucky insisted.

"Okay. If you need anything, you know where I am," Steve reminded him.

Bucky nodded. "Good night."

"See you in the morning," Steve replied and turned off the light in the kitchen before heading to the bedroom.

Bucky repositioned the pillows and pulled the afghan that had been folded over the back of the futon over himself. The country air was cool and felt great after a hot day, but he figured he'd probably get chilled once he stopped moving around. He reached up and turned off the lamp. A few seconds later the light in the bedroom went out and silence filled the cabin.