Natasha isn't sure what wakes her. Whether something made a noise, or it's just instinct. But she's sitting upright in bed and the back of her neck is tingling.
Something's wrong.
She looks over and sees Wanda, Yelena, and Pietro fast asleep.
To her other side, Peter and Daniel are lying in their beds, mouths open and dead asleep.
And her eyes trail slowly to the bed by the door.
It's empty.
She stumbles out of bed and walks quietly out to the hallway.
She's about to walk down the stairs when she hears a sound.
She pauses and listens.
It's quiet. And just when she's about to assume she'd imagined it, she hears it again. A small cough.
She steps closer to the sound and it leads her to the bathroom, where she stands silently. Waiting.
There's a groan and then she hears the distinct sound of someone vomiting.
Her heart starts to race and she steps closer, pressing her ear to the door. The sound of the toilet flushing and sink running are what she hears next.
She backs up, quickly hiding behind a door and peeking out the edge as the bathroom door opens. Only the nightlight in the bathroom outlet reveals Steve, walking out of the bathroom, slipping on his pajama shirt and walking stiffly back to their room.
She stands there, unsure if she should ask if he's okay, or tell Sam.
She waits a few minutes and slips back into their room and finds that he's already asleep.
—
Steve blinks awake to his alarm and reaches for the glass of water by his bed. He's taken to keeping one there because he can't seem to keep his mouth from getting dry.
He downs the glass and wipes at his mouth. The other kids are stirring and he slides out of his bed and walks down to the kitchen.
"Morning, sunshine." Sam says, stirring a huge pot of oatmeal.
It had taken him months to convince the kids to eat oatmeal again. But eventually they'd relented and his was a vast improvement over the sludge they'd had to eat from Mrs. Schmidt.
Sam always has fresh fruit and other toppings available like sliced almonds and slivered coconut shreds and even mini chocolate chips.
He places a small bowl in front of Steve and eyes him. "Something you need to tell me?"
"Uh?"
"Howard called."
"Oh…"
"Don't, 'oh' me, Steve. He called because he knew you weren't going to say anything. You vomited again. It's getting worse. The bouts are getting closer together."
"'S fine." Steve says, stirring and watching the strawberries leach their color into the oatmeal.
"He said your eyesight is deteriorating too."
"Yep." Steve says flatly, already tired of this conversation.
"Steve, work with me here. You gotta tell us this stuff! As soon as it happens. I mean it. Don't make me have to start being a hard ass on you. I know you want your space and privacy and I've kept that, but you can't keep it from me."
"I told Howard about my eyesight." He responds dejectedly. "And I was going to tell you about the other thing. I was just distracted when I got home."
"No more 'I forgot' to tell you. No more. Do you understand, Steve? I won't hear it anymore. You're 17. You're an intelligent kid, so stop acting like you're not. You tell me when things go wrong. That's why I'm here. Do you understand?"
"Fine, Sam. Fine."
"Good." They glare at each other and it's the closest thing they've ever had to an argument.
"Eat your oatmeal."
"I'm trying." Steve snaps.
"Try harder."
They continue to glare at each other until the other kids start to file in. Sam dishes out bowls and takes a deep breath, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder.
—
Natasha walks into the kitchen and grabs a bowl of oatmeal from Sam. She makes her favorite. Oatmeal with frozen blueberries, coconut shreds, sliced almonds and mini chocolate chips.
She turns and sees Steve poking at his bowl.
"You feeling better?"
He looks up at her with tired eyes, "hmm?"
"You feeling better after last night?"
She feels Sam turn towards her, "what happened last night?"
Natasha looks at him, and gestures to Steve. "I heard him throwing up last night… but—" she turns to Steve, "you're eating, so you must… be…" she's trailing off at the incredulously angry look on Sam's face and the absolute flat glare on Steve's "…better?"
Sam's pinching the bridge of his nose, and taking deep breaths and Steve's shoving his bowl into the sink and walking out of the kitchen and Natasha's standing there feeling like she's done something wrong, she just doesn't know what it was. She looks at Sam, "what'd I do?" Sam doesn't open his eyes, he leans against the kitchen island and she watches as his fingers grip the countertop. "Sam?"
"Nothin', Nat. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm glad you mentioned it. If…" he looks up at her and she suddenly realizes how tired he looks, "if you hear or see anything like that will you tell me? You know how Steve can be." And his voice gets brittle, "doesn't want anyone to worry."
"Is he throwing up… often?"
"He's not feeling the greatest," he says quickly, helping one of the younger kids rinse their bowl. "You'll tell me?"
"Yeah, Sam. I'll tell you."
"Thanks."
She goes up to grab her backpack, braiding her hair, and saying goodbye to Yelena as she and Wanda and Pietro head down the stairs.
She unplugs her phone and sees a text from Bucky.
B: you talk to Steve today?
N: I wouldn't describe it like that. He practically bolted from the room.
B: ah shit.
N: what?
B: he saw us yesterday. On my roof. He didn't respond to me yesterday
She feels her heart rate rise,
N: WHAT! How?!
B: I don't know. My ma said he came by and she sent him to the roof but we never saw or heard him. We were… occupied.
N: he threw up last night and Sam got all mad about it
B: huh?
B: wait what?
N: hold on I'll see you in a few I'll explain then
B: omw
She walks out the door and is unsurprised to see that Steve didn't wait for them. He's taken to leaving early for school, or sometimes late.
She walks to the corner and sees Bucky half jogging towards her, backpack bouncing up and down on his shoulders.
His dark hair is thick on top, and shorter on the sides, and his blue eyes are trained on her.
"Morning." She says softly. He kisses her quickly and pulls her along, his cool hand fitting her palm perfectly inside his.
"Morning." He responds, "Steve ditched?"
"Mhmm. So what the hell is happening? Because two months ago I feel like everything was normal and somewhere along the way it all went to hell."
Bucky groans and grabs her hand. "I don't know. Hanging out with you has been perfect, but we haven't told anyone, and I hate that he found out like this."
"He's keeping his own secrets." Natasha says a bit crisply.
"Yeah, tell me what happened."
"I woke up last night and heard something. I went out and heard Steve throwing up in the bathroom. I mean.. It's not super unusual. You know Steve, catches every cold and flu in a twelve mile radius, but it was weird because he'd taken off his shirt, and then was putting it on when he went back to bed."
"Why was his shirt off? Did he have any new bruises? Don't tell me he got in a fight and didn't tell me!"
"No, I don't know, it was too dark and I couldn't see his skin well. He walked stiffly but that's just his hip you know? Anyways, this morning I saw he was eating breakfast and I was like 'oh that's a good thing' right? Because that meant his stomach felt okay enough to eat. So I ask him if he's feeling better and he's all confused and Sam gets all curious, and so I mention that Steve threw up, because I assumed Steve had already told him, but apparently not, because Sam looked pissed he didn't know and Steve left the kitchen. Without washing his bowl."
"Hold up, WHAT?"
"I know." She says quickly, "Steve bolted out of the room like there was a fire. I've never seen him not clean his bowl right away."
"Why is Steve throwing up a big deal? I mean obviously it's not a good thing. But… but why the big reaction?"
They're silent for a while and then Natasha looks up at the approaching subway entrance, "maybe it's a side effect of the medicine Steve's taking for his heart? And maybe he's supposed to tell Sam if he experiences negative effects?"
Bucky considers this. "It's possible. Sounds just like Steve to not tell anyone."
Natasha nods and they settle into their seats.
—-
Tony sits in his evening lab and taps his pencil against his work bench. He looks at his phone where a text from Clint sits.
C: I'm telling you this. Not Bucky or Natasha because they'd freak the fuck out and I just can't deal with that right now.
C: I caught Steve at the dumpster. Staring at THE dumpster. He'd just been to his mom's grave and he went there after. And I don't know how to deal with this. He didn't see me. Doesn't know I know.
C: and he's testifying against the brothers. Did you know? It's bullshit. You're gonna be here for that right?
Tony sighs and leans back, staring at the other kids working around him. He's further ahead than they are and he's waiting for the fabricator to finish the piece he needs.
He grabs his phone and begins typing back.
T: I don't know about the dumpster thing. Shit like that? Traumatizing as hell. I'm actually surprised he hasn't been there more.
He stops. His mouth parting in realization.
T: oh geez. You think he's been there before?
T: like what if he goes often?
T: and hell yes I'll be there for the trial. Can't wait to watch those scum get flushed down the mess that is our prison system. My dad's already got his lawyers on the case. They're never seeing the light of day again.
—-
Steve steps into the school building and heads to homeroom.
Scott waves him over and points to the seat next to him.
"See? I'm here, all Juniored up."
Steve lets out a wry chuckle. "You're too excited for this. Junior year is the toughest academic year."
"Please. Who cares!" Scott says, yawning and leaning back, "just happy to be out of the baby class."
Steve doesn't respond, just pulls out his notebook and pencil, looking at the journal question on the board. He has to squint to even read it. But thankfully it's written in large block letters.
If you could have any superpower what would it be and why?
The class is still bustling and getting settled as he stares at the question, his throat tight and stomach nauseous.
"Hey, man, you okay?"
He doesn't answer. Can't answer.
"Steve? You look like a ghost, you okay?"
"'M fine." He manages to get out through gritted teeth. But his stomach rolls and he bolts out of his seat, the sudden motion making him sicker and he clamps a hand over his mouth as he runs, glad the hallways are basically empty.
He slides into the bathroom and shoves into an empty stall and crashes to his knees, stomach rolling and vomiting everything he managed to eat for breakfast.
He groans as the acid burns and the thrill of fear at what Howard had mentioned rolls through him again as he clutches his stomach and throws up again, blood and strawberries mixing in the toilet bowl.
"Holy shit."
He stiffens. Turning weakly to the stall door to see Scott standing there, eyes wide.
"Scott." He rasps out, "get out of here."
"What? No! What the hell! I have to get the school nurse!"
"No." Steve wheezes. "No. I'm fine. It's fine".
"Um, in case you think I'm an idiot, even I know puking up blood is a real bad sign!"
"Scott, please leave." He sinks against the wall divider and tries to steady his trembling hands.
"You're not freaking out." Scott says, eyes wide and pacing back and forth, "why aren't you freaking out? This is bad. Bad. Bad. And you're calm. That means—" he stops and turns to Steve and the horrified expression on his face makes Steve wince, "you're used to it." He frowns, "you got cancer?"
And somehow that makes Steve laugh, an almost hysterical laughter that has him clutching his violently empty stomach. His heart pounds against his chest and his breath comes in wheezes and he hears the sound echoing against the tile walls and he sucks in a deep breath only to start laughing again.
He finally manages to pull himself together and the terrified look on Scott's face pulls him back to reality.
"No, Scott. I don't have cancer. Surprisingly, honestly." He reaches over and grabs toilet paper, wiping off the seat and flushing it. "I gotta tell them to sanitize this stall."
"I'll go tell them." Scott says, "stay here. I'll be right back." He's gone before Steve can protest.
Steve weakly stands, using the metal bar to haul himself upright and walks slowly to the sink. He rinses his mouth multiple times and then washes his hands. Scott flies back into the bathroom and slides to a stop. "Okay I told the front office and they'll send janitorial and no, I didn't tell them who."
Steve nods gratefully. "Thanks."
He pulls out his phone and pulls up his recent contacts. He presses a name and waits as it rings.
"Steve?"
"Hey, Sam… sorry. Uh.." he looks at Scott who is pretending not to listen, "I think I need to come home."
"What happened? You okay?"
"Third time in 24 hours is probably a bad sign right?"
There's a weighted pause and then Sam's speaking in a rush. "Let me call Sarah. I'll be there as soon as I can. Wait in the office."
"Okay."
"Steve?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. Thank you for telling me."
Steve makes a soft sound in his throat and he hears Sam hang up.
"I'm going to head to the office." Steve says slowly, ignoring the ache in his throat. "Thanks for… helping."
Scott bounces on the balls of his feet, "you need me to grab your backpack from class?"
"Oh…" he forgot about his stuff, "No, I can grab it."
They walk back towards class and Steve speaks quietly to the teacher, telling her he doesn't feel well and is going home. She takes in his disheveled appearance and gaunt face and nods, excusing him.
He gathers his things and ignores the stares as he walks back out of class.
—-
"Yeah?"
"Howard?"
"Sam?"
"Yeah, listen. I'm on my way to the school. Steve called. He threw up again."
"What! Twice in 24 hours?"
There's a pause. "Three times."
Howard's mind reels at the implication. "You're taking him in right?"
"Yes. I called and scheduled an emergency appointment."
Howard sighs, "I have a meeting I can't skip. You'll call though? If you're still there when I'm finished I'll head your direction."
"I'll let you know."
"Okay."
Howard hangs up and looks at the metal pod he's building. He groans and scrubs at his eyes.
Something has to work.
Anything.
—
"Well." The doctor says calmly. "I've got some good news and some bad news."
Neither Sam or Steve speak.
"Bad news is the increase in bleeding was caused by an ulcer that appears to have not quite burst but is close. Probably caused by wear and tear on your heart, and exasperated by stress which is registered in your limbic system which in turn affects your endocrine system, a.k.a. your hormones." He tries a weak smile, "it's a vicious cycle, especially in your body as it's still trying to grow and develop. The good news is, we can cauterize it, and should be able to… lessen the instances of vomiting."
Sam looks sick to his stomach at the news, but Steve just sighs and lays back on the examining table. "Okay." He says quietly.
—-
It's a few hours later and they're getting home. Steve has been quiet, unable to think or say anything for hours.
He stands in the entryway and just stares at the stairs. Too tired to even try to walk up them.
"Steve?"
His eyes find Sam's and he just waits.
"Can I hug you?"
Steve blinks at him in surprise. But Sam doesn't wait for an answer. He steps forward and wraps Steve up in a hug. He can hear Sam's heartbeat and he feels exhaustion wash over him.
"I'm so tired, Sam."
Sam's arms tighten around him. "I know," his voice is tired too, "I'm sorry. What can I do?"
"I threw up in front of a kid."
"Who?"
"Scott. You don't know him."
"You need me to talk to him?"
"No. He's fine. He probably won't say anything."
"Okay. Tell me truthfully, how's your vision?"
Steve pauses… "I've been noticing it getting a lot blurrier. But now I'm getting headaches. That's why I asked Howard for new lenses."
Sam's grip starts to lessen and Steve isn't ready. He tightens his arms around him and holds tight. He can tell that Sam is surprised he's still hugging him, but he hugs back just as fiercely.
"I'm sorry." Steve says softly.
"About what?"
"For… being upset. For being a mess."
Sam tilts his head down so he can see Steve. "I already told you, I don't want you apologizing."
"I shouldn't have been acting like…"
"Like it's you vs. the world?"
Steve winces, "ouch."
"I call 'em like I see 'em." Sam responds lightly, squeezing him a tad tighter.
"I'm going to try."
"Try…?"
"To relax." Steve whispers. "The doctor said stress caused this."
"Of course you're stressed!" Sam urges, stepping back and holding Steve's shoulders, "look at all the crap you've gone through! And you're only 17! Hell, I was in the army and I feel like you've had more trauma." Steve grimaces and Sam takes a deep breath, "okay, sorry, not helping. But I do hope you'll let us help now. For real this time."
"I will." Steve shrugs, "I'll tell you. Promise."
"Good." He points to the living room. "Now, go rest. Doctor said not to be on your feet too much. And remember. No PE."
Steve frowns. "I know."
Sam disappears into the kitchen and Steve promptly falls asleep on the couch.
—
Bucky keeps his eyes peeled for Steve at lunch but he doesn't appear. He looks at Natasha who shrugs helplessly at him. "I don't usually see him till lunch, our hallways don't intersect."
Bucky watches the doors and sighs. Then his eyes catch sight of that kid.
"I'll be right back."
He walks over and stands in front of him, "Scott, right?"
The kid blinks up at him, "yeah, Bucky… right?"
"Yeah, you seen Steve?" The kid blanches and Bucky feels the hairs on his arms rise, "what?"
"Uh, Steve? Uh, yeah, he was in homeroom."
"Okay… and have you seen him after homeroom?"
"No."
Bucky wants to yank this kid up by his collar and get him to spill whatever he's hiding, but a glance back at Natasha as she watches with a raised eyebrow, makes him take a deep breath, "okay, you wanna sit with us? Steve's friends are our friends."
The kid's mouth parts in surprise but he nods, "oh, yeah, okay, great. Cool."
Bucky leads him back to the table where Natasha sits, a pleased smirk on her face that makes Bucky roll his eyes at her. She looks at her phone and sighs. "He's at home. With Sam."
They share a weighted look, and then Natasha turns to the new addition. "So, Scott." She says easily, "tell us about yourself?"
He bites into his sandwich and chews thoughtfully, "I'm Scott Lang, 17, Junior. Good at computers and sleight of hand."
Natasha chuckles at that and the kid smiles.
"Where do you live?" Bucky asks, "you going here senior year?"
Scott nods, picking at his bag of chips, "moved her from San Fran. Live a few blocks from here in some apartments. I'm planning on going here, long as my mom stays at her job."
"How'd you meet Steve?" Natasha asks.
"In PE. He was a total badass with his whole take down of the crap the coach had thrown at him. Had to introduce myself after. By the way, that kid you guys both punched, he's been mouthing off about you two."
Bucky narrows his eyes, searching the cafeteria for the guy, "oh, has he? He's welcome to air his complaints to me in person."
Scott just stares in surprise, "okay, you're kinda scary. That's cool. I'm cool with that."
Natasha laughs and leans forward, "we're protective of Steve. If you haven't noticed."
Scott looks down at the tables and picks at the cafeteria tray. "I've noticed. Whole school has noticed. After that video, I can see why."
"That video was a piece of garbage." Bucky snaps, "half of it wasn't even true."
Scott nods, "I know. I uh…" he looks guilty, "I hacked into the police files and read them."
Natasha gaped, "you what?"
Scott winces, "I'm told I'm too curious for my own good." Both Bucky and Natasha just stare at him in shock as he shrinks in his chair. "I promise I won't say anything. I… I just wanted to know the truth. Seeing his scars… I had to make sure he was…" Bucky watches as he bites the inside at his cheek. "Had to make sure he was okay." He looks at them and starts to ramble. "I asked him that day, if he was in an okay home, and he told me he was, but I've been there before right? Can't let people know. Gotta hide so it doesn't get worse. So I had to check. Had to know for myself. Then I saw the video and worked on that timeline to figure out when it happened and then used his name in the precinct's files. You really…" he looks at Bucky and it's not morbid curiosity in his eyes, it's genuine concern, "can't believe you pulled him out of a dumpster."
Bucky slams his eyes closed. Hands splayed on the table, fighting that image. He hates seeing it. Steve's broken glasses. Bruised face. Limp and pale body in his arms.
"Scott." Natasha says sharply, her hand resting on Bucky's. "We really don't talk about it. Okay?"
"But…" Scott starts, "he's talked about it right? Steve? Someone's talked to him? Therapist or something?"
Both of them stare at him. And he scoffs, "y'all are just ignoring it? As someone who can personally vouch, that's going to come back to bite you."
The rest of lunch is silent.
—
Bucky walks into the house with Natasha and they find him on the couch, curled up and squinting at the TV as some cartoon plays. There's a few other kids about but they're not close enough to listen.
"Hey Steve."
"Hey Bucky. Nat."
They sit on the couch and he sits up, making room for them.
"Where are your glasses?" Natasha asks.
"Howard accidentally broke them. He's getting me a new pair."
"Oh."
It's silent and Bucky groans, "Steve." Tired eyes find his and he takes a deep breath. "About yesterday,"
"It's fine, Buck. I get it. You were just being careful. Scott's—"
"Scott's fine. I know." Bucky says. "And I shouldn't've said what I said. But I'm not talking about that." Bucky watches as Steve's eyes go to the floor and the tops of his ears turn pink. "Why didn't you answer my texts?"
Steve's brow furrows, "texts?"
"Yeah I texted you last night. I saw you open them, but not respond."
Steve scrunches his nose. "Can't read the tiny text, Buck. Haven't texted anyone all day."
Oh.
Okay. That makes him feel a bit better.
"So." Natasha says, looking uncomfortable, which is something they don't see often. "We're sorry you found out that way."
Steve starts rubbing at his eyes, "guys. It's fine. I'm happy for you two. It's none of my business anyways."
"Yeah, but we should have told you."
"Why?" Steve says looking up at Bucky, genuine confusion, "I don't need to know. It's none of my business."
And that throws both of them, "but…" Natasha starts, "you're our friend. We don't want to keep it from you."
And then Steve looks at them both with a raised eyebrow, "uh, obviously you did. Hence the secret. Hence me seeing you with your hand up his shirt." Bucky feels his face flush and Natasha squirms in her seat. But Steve doesn't seem to notice. "I'm happy for you guys. Really. No worries. I'll stay out of your way."
That makes them pause, "uh, what?"
Steve yawns, leaning back and squinting back at the TV. "I get it. I don't want to be that annoying third-wheel. It's all good."
"Steve, that's not what we're saying."
He doesn't even look up from the tv. Just yawns again. "Then what are you saying?"
"That we're sorry you found out the way you did! Not that we don't want you around."
Steve just blinks his eyes slowly and says, "okay."
—-
Natasha looks at Bucky who's standing on the bottom of the steps outside the front door, having to go home before 3:45.
He looks miserable.
"He's not mad." She reminds him. "That's a good thing."
"Is it worse that he doesn't even seem to care at all?" He asks morosely, standing on the pavement.
"I don't know. But we should tell the others now."
"You're the one who didn't want to say anything in the first place." He scowls.
She just rolls her eyes at him. "Yes, well, seems like the cat's out of the bag. And even though I'm sure Steve would keep it quiet if we asked, I don't see a need anymore."
Bucky nods and they kiss goodbye.
—-
Clint looks at them with his eyebrow raised. "Yeah. I already knew."
Natasha scoffs, "you did not."
Clint hooks her to her pulley with the carabiner and flicks her braid. "Did so. You guys suck at hiding things."
Bucky's scowling again, "Steve and Tony don't know."
Clint laughs, "Tony's in another state, and I think we can agree Steve's been more than a little preoccupied to notice you guys mooning at each other and holding hands when you think we can't see."
Bucky's cheeks burn red and Natasha starts climbing. Leaving a laughing Clint below her.
—-
The only response they get, when they tell Tony over text is:
T: gross.
T: imagine the kids you guys would have
T: adorable. And terrifying.
Natasha groans and throws herself on her bed when Bucky texts her.
B: okay, so no one is mad.
He's at home. A few more days of being grounded remaining.
N: I'm glad it's over with.
B: I'm holding your hand tomorrow.
N: you better.
She smiles and looks at Wanda and Yelena. "You guys were right." They look at her and raise their eyebrows. "There is someone." They squeal and come scrambling over, laying on her bed as she braids their hair and tells them all about her and Bucky.
—-
He gets his new glasses and groans at how thick the lenses are.
He shows them to Sam and the guy grimaces.
"Yikes." Steve chuckles, "see! This is ridiculous!"
"You've got eyes the size of dinner plates right now," Sam says with a laugh, "just don't look into the sun, I think you'd burn your eyes in seconds."
"Oof." Steve says clutching at his heart, "you calling me an ant?"
Sam ruffles his hair and taps at his chin. "You do have a vaguely similar body structure."
"Samuel Wilson, you take that back."
"Steven Rogers, I will not."
Steve laughs and slowly sips the smoothie Sam had made him. They've discovered that he's able to get a lot of calories in without irritating his stomach too much if he drinks them instead.
True to the doctor's word, he's stopped vomiting so often. Sometimes even going a week or two without. He's able to keep more food down and he feels marginally better.
He's being honest with Sam about what symptoms appear and in return, Sam is able to let Steve joke about it and deal with the stress better than just internalizing it. Steve looks at Sam and he can't begin to express how grateful he is to the guy for sticking by him when he'd been acting like a punk. So, when September 30th rolls around, Steve tells Sam that he's going to the college to pretend to take an art class he forgot to sign up for.
"Steve, that's ridiculous, just tell them you forgot."
"Can't. I annoyed them about this class for two years. They'd never believe I forgot unless I told them why I actually forgot, and I'm not doing that. So if they ask, that's where I am."
"Steve."
"Bye Sam, see you in 3 hours!"
He walks out the door and heads towards the subway.
—-
Steve enters the building and walks around, looking at the art pieces and amazing displays that line the hallways and foyers.
He's staring at a sketch of a couple dancing when he hears, "Steve?"
He turns and sees the TA from the summer program two years ago, standing in the middle of the hallway, a stack of papers in his hands.
"Oh, hey Mr. Banner."
"Steve, hey, how are you doing?"
"I'm fine, you work here?"
"Yeah. Well. Not here. I work with Dr. Erskine in the science complex. But I needed these printed in color so I came over here… what are you doing here?"
"It's a long story." Steve admits.
"Taking an art class?"
"I was supposed to. But I missed the deadline."
Bruce looks at him with furrowed brows, "so you're not taking a class?"
"Nope."
"But you're still here."
Steve grimaces, "yep, long story."
"You got time? I'm sure Erskine would love to say hi."
And since Steve has nothing but time, he agrees.
—-
"Steven!" Dr. Erskine exclaims, "what a surprise!"
Steve shakes his hand and smiles, sitting down in the chair he points too.
"What brings you to the school?"
"Uh." He says, glancing at Bruce, "it's a long story."
"What class did you want to take?" Bruce asks, perched on the edge of Erskine's desk.
"The Art of Drawing Life." Steve responds, "I've wanted to take it for years, I've heard so many of Brooklyn's best known artists have taken that class, but… I missed the deadline. It's fine, I can try to fit it in next year."
"Ah." Dr. Erskine says with a smile, "I might be able to pull some strings if you'd like me to try?"
"Oh no, I couldn't ask you to do that. It's my own fault I missed the deadline."
"I'd be happy to," Erskine urges, "would you let me try?"
Steve ducks his head, "I mean… if you're willing. That would be amazing."
The man smiles and picks up his cell. "I'll be back in a moment."
Steve nods and his eyes find the large windows. He steps closer and sees that it overlooks a huge lab, students moving around and working.
Then someone looks up and his breath halts in his throat.
Brown eyes stare into his blue ones and he feels his heart beat fast as perfect red lips smile at him. Then she looks back down and resumes her work.
He steps back, steadying himself on a chair.
"Steve? You okay?"
He can't speak. What do you say when you've just seen the most beautiful girl in the world and she smiled at you?
He just nods and steps further away from the window.
—
*A/N - Had to bring her in sometiiiiime!!