fossilised | For Steve

[Bucky doesn't think this Adonis has noticed him looking because, hell, everyone is looking. He must be used to it, a guy like that doesn't go through life without everyone and their mother staring. His arms look as big as Bucky's head; he's seen a lot of muscled men, his own aren't too shabby from the army, but this guy looks like he lives in a gym and only emerges to come to this class and maybe pound a protein shake or two.

He sets his jaw and starts to sketch out god only knows what on his piece of paper. At first he intends it to be a boat, but then half of it goes wonky and it ends up looking more like a deformed bird with graphite smudges all over it.]

Checking up on me, Teach?

[He pitches his voice at an attempt at a tease, not wanting to give away how awkward he felt with the tutor this close. Why was he watching? Had he noticed that his left arm wasn't real? God, he hoped not.]

I told you, I can't draw for shit.

[Now, Steve did notice something was off about James' arm. He drew people, a lot, which involved studying the figure, and there was something ... 'unnatural' wasn't the correct word there, but regardless, it was different. The first place Steve's mind went, however, considering that Barnes was here for PTSD was that it was perhaps a war injury that he brought home with him.

Steve is right, after a fashion, but full on prosthetic was much further than he was thinking. Still, it'd be crass to mention it, or ask if James had been in the Navy with his drawing of a boat (yes Steve could also tell it was a boat, with an at least 80% certainty) since he hadn't volunteered that information to the class.

Steve wanted to be in the army once. Tried to fight tooth and nail for it. Being an adult and dealing with the people left over from that, he wonders now if he was the type that could have survived it.]

Checking up on everyone, you just happen to be next. I can move on to Laura first if you'd like but she's a hard act to follow.

[It's a joke, see? Teasing for teasing, they're all friends here.]

Well that isn't a stick figure. Everyone starts somewhere. It's a boat, right? From memory or imagination?

[His eyebrows shoot up in mild surprise and he looks down at his drawing, which doesn't look anything good enough to be a boat, and then back up at the teacher - Steve Rogers - and his oh-so-sincere expression. Was it genuine, or was he one of those people who acted all smiley and encouraging to help the broken people? Too early to tell yet.]

How the hell can you tell it's a boat?

[He's under no illusions, he knows his art is terrible. God only knows why Wilson thought that taking a class for something he was terrible at would help him out.]

I mean, uh, yeah, of course it's a boat. I don't know why, just the first thing that came into my head, that's all. I don't even like boats, I get seasick.

[Oh good, and now he's babbling. Shut up, Barnes.]

We've probably got a book that has pictures of boats in it if you want a look. It helps a lot to have a reference when you're drawing, especially if you're just getting started. Or you could be like Annie and focus more on what the abstract feeling of a boat means to you.

[Steve thumbs in the redhead woman's direction. She calls back 'I can draw my cats as big as the Chrysler if I want to!' without any shame or embarrassment. He gives James another smile. Really, more than anything, Steve just wants him to be comfortable. And maybe keep getting smiles out of him too.

Nothing's wrong with looking, even if you can't have.]

It does look like a boat though. Uh, probably not a seaworthy one exactly, but...

[Okay, he actually has a hell of a lot more respect for Rogers when he doesn't bullshit him and tell him that his boat is amazing. His lips even quirk up for a second or two.]

You can't say shit like that, Teach. I'm emotionally fragile, remember, you're destroying all my hard-won confidence in my boat drawing skills. I'm never gonna be able to leave the house again.

[He raised an eyebrow in Rogers' direction, trying to gauge how well he'd take the joke. Usually people got offended on his own behalf, or awkward about the idea of joking about his broken brain, but it's what got him through. It was easier than dealing with his shit head on.]

[It might have gotten a reaction like that from Steve if he hadn't been raised bouncing from base to base - even if Steve couldn't be military, he came from a career military family. This certain kind of humor, it was familiar to him.

He gives an exaggerated wince, dropping his voice to a stage whisper as he leaned in just a bit as if sharing a secret.]

Not so loud, they'll revoke my teaching licence if they hear you. Or, well, my teaching learner's permit. My ID card laminated down at Kinkos that grants me unlimited access to the closet where the paperclips and post-its are stored, okay, they'll take that away.

[Damn. Sexy as hell and a good sense of humour, why wasn't he up on the dating game any more? Even worse, that meant he was at least sort of enjoying the class and that meant he wasn't allowed to beat Wilson to a pulp for making him do this.]

Too bad, maybe you should have thought about all those sweet paperclips before you said my boat wasn't seaworthy.

[He scrubs his hand over his face and leaves a big smudge of graphite on his nose.]

Don't you need to go and crush some of the other students?

[Good job, Wilson. You made the right choice forcing Bucky into this, clearly. You're a bro.

Steve grins again, laughing softly, and shakes his head.]

Encouraging and educating, but fine, fine. I'll leave you to your perfectly magnificent and absolutely seaworthy boat.

[He doesn't want to press his luck - he's got a feeling James is the kind of person he could accidentally spend all class focusing on, and that's not what he's ... well he's not actually getting paid for this since it's a volunteer position, but that's not what he was allowed unlimited access to post-its and paperclips for. Besides, Laura has been waiting ever so patiently.

So he moves on, even if he does keep glancing up at Bucky more often than not. And maybe before his next round would bring him back to Bucky he does end up (making sure Bucky sees him coming and isn't startled by it) setting a photography book next to him, with a few post-its marking pages where the photographers focused on various marine vessels.]

[Once Rogers moves on, it's harder again to enjoy the class. Not necessarily because of how attractive the man was to look at, but because he now has nothing to distract him from being trapped in a room with a bunch of strangers except his own shitty drawing of a boat.

Despite Rogers telegraphing his movements clearly, he still tenses up when the book is put next to him and scowls at it for a moment or two before he deigns to open it. The pictures don't help much, his drawing is still easily the worst in the class.

By the time forty minutes has passed, Bucky's leg is jiggling impatiently as he watches the clock much more than his paper.]

[The class is technically an hour long. Steve is trying real hard to not hover - he knows a few people that would just as soon punch him for too much concern, but he can't chalk it up to wishful thinking. Bucky did seriously seem more relaxed when Steve was talking to him than he did working on his own. So maybe next time it's time for rounds, James gets first dibs on Steve's time, so to speak.]

How's it going?

[Not good, he already knows that, but if James doesn't want to talk about or acknowledge it Steve doesn't want to make him feel like he's backed into a corner. His voice is also noticeably quieter with the question rather than the mock whisper of before. Genuine concern, genuine giving of privacy with it.]

Fine.

[He snaps it back, warning in every line of his body not to pursue it. He hates that he gets like this, he hates that this is his damn life since he came home, and the last thing he wants is sympathy from Mr. Ripped-and-sensitive.]

Look, I don't think this class is for me.

[He reaches out with his good hand and impulsively screws up the sheet of paper that has his boat on it, before pushing himself out of the chair. All his instincts are screaming at him to get away.]

I gotta go.

Wait -

[What's Steve going to do to stop him though - tackle him? That's not really an option, first and foremost being he can't see that going over well and ... well, of James needs to get out of there then Steve needs to let him go, even if his first instinct is, ridiculously, to just run after him.]

Just - come back next week? Please?

[Even if he has to plead that at Bucky's retreating back, he's got to try.]

[Bucky doesn't respond to the teacher calling after him, though he does register somewhere in the edges of his panic fuzz that the tone seemed oddly sincere. He doesn't stop moving until he's back in his shitty little apartment, breathing deeply and bitterly regretting making such a spectacle of himself.

He really is considering not going back next week, what's the point?

Besides, he has all the excitement he could possibly need for now, apparently someone is finally moving into that apartment right below his. He can't help but wonder what idiot they've managed to con into 3C, or if the poor guy/girl/couple don't care about the damp and noisy people always fighting in 3B.

He doesn't know when mystery tenant is moving in, but he keeps an ear out for the sounds of anyone moving, all while ignoring his appointments. Wilson's going to be so pissed at him, he's missed therapy twice in a row now.]

[The thing is, this isn't the first time. It's a class focused on people with issues, one that has always worked closely with vet services. Something about this one hits harder, though. He gets the focus of the class again, and several of the remaining students have seen similar breakdowns in other related classes.

Really, Bucky didn't punch anyone out, the cops didn't have to be called. As far as panic attacks went, it was relatively mild from an outsider's perspective.

That doesn't stop Steve from spending the next few days dwelling on it in every free moment, going over every interaction and wondering how he could have done things differently, creating elaborate scenarios in his head where he says the Right Thing and he gets James to be comfortable, to stay.

It doesn't help matters any that he's got his move coming up. It's closer to where he works and volunteers and is more or less the same price he was already paying with the added bonus of less money spent on transportation. Come moving day, he wished he could put it off more but if he just gets it done it'll be over and done with and he can put his time to more productive use.

Fitting it'd be a gray, dreary day when it happened.

He's got very little by way of possessions and half of it is art supplies. Natasha doesn't own a truck but she does have access to a truck thanks to her boyfriend so she helps Steve with the two big pieces early in the morning. Which is mostly Steve doing the lifting and Natasha helping with the pivots.

"You sure you don't want me to stay? I can call in with the plague," Natasha offers as Steve unloads the smaller boxes from the truck.]

Nah, it'll be good. I can clear my mind, get to know the neighbors even.

["Bake them an apple pie and bring over fresh made lemonade," Natasha suggests, which is only 50% sarcastic "Nobody talks to their neighbors anymore Steve."

They banter back and forth for a few more minutes before he shoos her away to go to work while he handles moving the smaller boxes of mostly art supplies into the propped open door. He's trying not to make too much noise, though he supposes he doesn't know how thin the walls are here.]

[Bucky knows someone is moving in below him, because all of a sudden there are muffled noises coming through his floor that weren't there before. He can't help but wonder who it is that's moving into that apartment and what sort of person they'll be, the apartment block might be shitty but it's his safe space and he is very conscious of all the other people who live there.

He lives in apartment 4C, and he knows the people in 4B, 4D, and 5C pretty well because they're the ones who box him in directly, and so the ones that might pose the biggest threat to him. Well... he says he knows them, he means that he's spied on them and he knows of them. He does actually know the woman in 4B, she's nearly ninety and has a bad hip, so sometimes he goes around and helps out and she gives him cookies. She had a husband in the army and so she knows never to make loud noises or come up behind him unexpectedly, they get on well. There's a family in 4D, a loud and argumentative family who are always swearing at each other. 5C is a single man, businessman, who is literally only there to sleep and nothing else.

And now 3C, the person below him, the mystery new tenant.

If it had been any other apartment, Bucky probably wouldn't have bothered going down, but he needs to know who's underneath him. So he snags the mailbox key from his sideboard, he stole it after the last people in 3C moved out so that he'd have a reason to visit the new tenant, and slouches down the stairs to knock on the door.]

[Steve got his furniture moved already where it needs to be - a desk for drawing by the window for the best light, the bed he's had that he bought on sale at IKEA right after college that's still miraculously held up. Most of the stuff in their last apartment was Nat's and while she did also offer to let him take it he lived life without a microwave or a tv before he he was certain he could after.

He was old fashioned that way.

The pieces he was still working on went out first so he remembered it was priority to finish them. Steve was hoping to get them in a gallery next month that he'd had luck with in the past. He was dealing with the kitchen when he heard the knock from the door.]

"Nobody talks to their neighbors anymore, Steve,"

[He scoffs and smiles, glad to have Natasha's statement proven wrong.

Of course, when opened the door, he was really not expecting to see a familiar face on the other end.]

... James??

[Bucky can't help but stare and wonder if God really does hate him, or something. Here was that Adonis back into his life again, and he hasn't even had a shower in three days. He's suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he has greasy hair hanging around his face that he hasn't even bothered to tie back, and that his hoodie is frayed at the cuffs and collar. At least his jeans are pretty clean, but he didn't even put shoes on so his toes are curling barefoot on the corridor floor.

Damn. Damn.]

You're-- moving into my building?

[Smooth.

He wishes he could take the words back as soon as they come out, trying to recover by pulling his lips up into a slightly teasing smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.]

Geez, you really don't go half measures to hunt down pupils and make them keep coming to class, huh?

[Steve takes in Bucky's disheveled state without trying to hide that he's doing it. Tiptoeing around the subject won't help any, he's sure, and there's a softness to his expression once the shock wears away. Not pity, but... understanding. Empathy. It's on the tip of his tongue to stammer, to apologize, to explain that he really did have no idea Bucky lived here.

Instead, Steve takes in a breath, holds it for a moment, then lets it go and smiles.]

What can I say? I'm dedicated to my work. Don't jump out a window, I'll probably follow you and those landings are hell on your knees.

[The banter seemed to help James in class, and even out of that setting on equal ground Steve wants to put him at ease.]

Would you like to come in? I can make coffee, or tea... I normally have juice and milk too but I haven't gotten to go grocery shopping yet.

[He can't help the slight quirk up to his lips when Steve banters back. It's good, it's what made him almost enjoy the class before it got too much for him and he bailed like a coward. Something about Steve puts him at ease, maybe it's the genuine boy scout vibe he seems to give off, but even as muscled as he is, he doesn't register as a threat even to Bucky's sometimes overly paranoid thoughts.]

Uh.

[He kind of wants to say yes, but he's barefoot and grungy and Steve is probably only asking him in to be polite, he seems like that kind of guy.]

I don't want to keep you from unpacking. But, hey, if you need sugar or anything then knock me up.

[Why? Why did he say that? Was there anything more cliche and lame than offering a neighbour a cup of sugar? Please let the ground swallow him now.]

[Some of Steve's best friends have a habit of showing up barefoot and grungy, he's not about to judge. Like, he's a little worried what with the state Bucky was in the last time Steve saw him, but hey, he left his apartment apparently willingly and unprompted so Steve reminds himself again not to mother or worry too much. Which is also a bad habit of his.]

Oh, yeah, all this unpacking. Don't know how I'll get it done.

[He steps aside to give Bucky a clear view of his very small pile of boxes. You couldn't even make a decent fort out of those.]

I won't push though. Uh, have you lived in this building long? I'm totally new to the neighborhood, so...

[That's not a lot of belongings. Not that Bucky can judge, he literally sleeps on an blow-up air bed with a pillow and sheet, and the rest of his possessions fit into a large backpack. It's just a survival technique, always be able to run at a moment's notice.]

About six months, I know where the local stores are and the nearest subway station.

[He hesitates, not wanting it to seem like he's okay to just be this near-stranger's guide.]

But sure, I guess a coffee would be good, if you're insisting.

[Steve does have an actual bed, even if it's a narrow metal framed one from IKEA! It's off the floor and everything! And made to military precision, even if he never was able to enlist.

And at James' relenting and agreeing to coffee, Steve positively beams like Bucky truly did just make his day. It's just such a damn sincere expression.]

I've been told I make pretty good coffee. Don't exactly have a lot of seating, but make yourself comfortable, I'll put it on.

[He has a chair at his desk and his bed, point in fact. Other than that it's floor space or counter leaning. Still, Steve jogs over to the stove to turn it on and put the kettle on, fetching the cone filters from the box on the counter and grabbing two mismatched mugs.]

[That smile was something else. He is pretty sure that a smile like that could raise the dead and calm the oceans, or something else as poetic and nonsensical. It's blinding, and he can't help but return it. His own smile is lop-sided, sort of cheeky, and not even close to as wholesome. But at least it's genuine for once.

He pads in, nearly silent on bare feet (which is the whole point), and leans on the counter with his right arm. His left is still in his pocket, at least he put his prosthetic on to come downstairs. But then, he's careful never to be seen without it.]

So what made you want to move into this craphole building? Spending too much on your paperclip habit?

Don't be silly.

[Steve's grin turns a bit mischievous as he looks over at Bucky.]

It's the post-it habit. The paperclips are just a bonus.

[He can't really look at Bucky too long or directly when he's grinning like that. It makes Steve's stomach do a sort of twisting thing it hasn't really done since high school. Especially since back then none of the guys that made his stomach do that would even give him a passing glance and here he is in his own kitchen making coffee and conversing with the one doing it now.

Oh little Steve, you'd be so proud of how far you've come.

He makes the coffee with practiced, easy movements as he talks, fetching a half-empty little jar of sugar while it brews. Huh, looks like he actually will need sugar soon, but it'll be enough for two cups even if Bucky's looking for a 1:1 ratio of coffee to sugar.]

It's closer to my work and to where I volunteer, so I can walk instead of taking the bus. My bus route before was not fun. Not bad really but long enough that it cut into my time a lot, I want to work more on my art. Also the apartment wasn't a whole lot better.

[Also with Steve moving out Natasha and her boyfriend are gonna have to commit to moving in together and he loves them but they are both dragging their feet so badly on this it is k i l l i n g him. Not that he would ever admit that anywhere where she could hear.]

[This guy really was a boy scout, wasn't he? Only someone with a lot of patience would volunteer with a bunch of broken people who were only in art therapy because their doctors or shrinks had forced it on them. He had a gorgeous smile and a body to die for, but it was the genuinely nice personality - or so it seemed - that made Bucky swallow just a little too hard sometimes.

Not that he would ask him out. A guy like this had to be taken, and probably wasn't even gay. And even if he was, and happened to be single, there's nobody on Earth who'd want James Barnes now. Not with all his issues and his stupid scarred up body.]

Where do you work?

[He figures that's not too personal a question. Maybe Steve is some big-shot artist with actual gallery time.]

I know the streets around here pretty well, maybe I could help you find a better route. I mean, if you needed one.

[He pulls the little sugar jar towards him and tips no less than eight teaspoons of the stuff into his coffee. He likes it black and so sweet that he can feel the cavities forming.]

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