fossilised | For Steve

[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.]

[Steve's face does that beaming smile again at Bucky's offer. He was hoping, when he asked about Bucky's familiarity with the neighborhood earlier, but he didn't want to impose of Bucky wasn't comfortable.]

That'd be incredible. I mean - my walking route now that I'm looking at isn't bad but I'm sure it's probably not the most efficient. I can get turned around easy when I'm new to a place.

[As for where he works...]

I work at the government building a few blocks from where I volunteer for the art classes. The glamorous job of being employed as a glorified file clerk by the city. It pays the bills, though, and unlike being a starving artist it gives me health insurance.

[While he doesn't look it, he does have a host of conditions that he's got to deal with. As long as he keeps in shape and keeps up medication all he's really got to worry about is the occasional asthma attack - but it does mean he does need consistent insurance. As much as he'd love to be a full time artist, he does not in fact make enough money off of it to offset the cost. Such is life.

Someday. He's still young. Steve's nothing if not an optimist.]

[For the first time, Bucky feels a slight tendril of tension snake up his spine. Steve works for a government agency? It's a stupid reaction, he just said that he's a glorified file clerk and plenty of people work for the government, it's just a knee-jerk reaction. Like Steve isn't as safe as the image he projects.

It probably shows in the way that his hand tightens around his coffee mug, even if he keeps the smile at his lips.]

You don't really look like a file clerk. All the clerks I've ever met have been assholes who pretty much chew bitterness for breakfast and then spit it out at everyone all day.

[Just probing for more information there.]

[It does show, and again Steve doesn't pretend to not notice. He reacts little aside from his voice significantly gentleing as he adds sugar to his own cup which is branded by a local art gallery logo. He usually prefers a little cream and a little sugar, but lacking in cream he adds more sugar to make up the difference.]

However awful it is to deal with them, I promise, it's just as soul killing behind the desk more often than not. I, thankfully, work for Parks and Recreation in particular. Mostly moving paperwork from point A to point B and directing people who to talk to for the best results. My boss did have me paint a small mural for a park last month when the original plans fell through and liked it so much she's looking to have me do more, so I'm hopeful. I'm really just working there until I can make it enough from art alone.

[He gestures with his coffee mug out to his desk with the work in progress pieces on it. One is a cityscape partially painted to show the colors at sunset, brighter and more vibrant than they ever really get in life. The other started out as a figure study when Nat was doing ballet practice that got a little out of hand and turned out unexpectedly well. It's still in pencils.]

I'm hoping to get those two to a gallery I've had luck with in the past. Knock on wood for me.

You actually work for Parks and Rec?

[Bucky couldn't help the tiny twitch of his lips, though he managed not to outright laugh. He thought that department was made up for the TV show, he never imagined that it was actually a real government office. And knowing he worked there did a lot to ease his tension, there's nothing threatening about someone who helps maintain parkland areas.]

That's--

[He cuts off as Steve gestures to the paintings, finally drawing his attention to them and arresting his attention pretty efficiently. Wow. Those were amazing, he knew Steve must be able to draw because all art teachers had to be at least a bit proficient, but these are stunning.]

--shit, Rogers. Those are amazing, you really did those? Now I'm even more embarrassed of my boat.

It's actually pretty boring in real life, promise.

[Though of course he had to watch the show too. If nothing else he got made fun of at work until he did.

His smile turns downright bashful when Bucky compliments his work, though. He's generally not self conscious about it anymore, but this is a very physically and emotionally attractive person in his apartment doing the complementing, ok.]

I maintain that your boat was perfectly fine. Even if it wasn't seaworthy. I've been drawing since forever, after all. I've got more stuff but it's still wrapped … uh, I can show you if you're interested, though?

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Aaaand phone tag bc I couldn't wait to get home and get to laptop.

woop woop! And I happen to be around because GMT and day off

Woo!