For Steve

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[This is a bad idea.

Bucky knows it as soon as he stops outside the little community centre where these classes run and he sees the other students milling about, chatting to each other in their own little cliques. The thing has been running for a while, it's an art group for anyone with any sort of mental health issue - depression, anxiety, psychosis. He's here for PTSD, practically bullied into it by his therapist at the VA, under the instructions that he needs to get out and start socialising more.

There are only six other people, four women and two men, and it already feels like too large a crowd. He makes sure his prosthetic is properly covered by a glove and long sleeve, stuffed into his pocket so nobody can tell it hangs strangely, and slouches in at the back. From the conversations he can overhear, blonde woman and redhead woman have anxiety issues, brunette #1 and the two men all have depression, and brunette #2 has psychosis. They're all so open with each other, chatting about medications and coping techniques and the work they've been doing in class already.

One of them approaches him and asks his name, and what he's there for, but he just glowers at her until she retreats again. He doesn't want anyone to know why he's here, and he's only here so Wilson will stop goddamn riding him about it.

He slumps into the seat nearest the back and waits for the teacher to arrive, already sure this is going to be a waste of time...]

Comments

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Huh?

[He glances around, expression lifting again when he sees Steve's adorable flushed cheeks. He steps aside to let him take back over with the batter, since he's supposed to be learning how right now.]

No, your bowl just hates me. I think it knows I was joking about the batter in an inappropriate way.

[andstripes]

[Steve's smile is a mixture of smitten and bashful in equal measure as he moves to take over the mixing post once more.]

It's not used to that kind of language. You offended its delicate sensibilities.

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Hey, pal, if you're determined to take me out on a date, then your bowl is gonna have to get used to hearing a whole lot worse. I haven't even mentioned all the places that batter is fun to lick off, it ain't just the spoon.

[His lips tweaked up a bit, the hint of a wicked smile of years gone past, though there was a disquiet in his eyes too. It was easy to fall back on the flirting, and god knows he'd want to take Steve to bed if it ever progressed that way, but... He didn't know if he could now. He didn't know if he could ever strip down in front of anyone and show him their scars; he sure as hell didn't feel sexy, and he was certain that anyone seeing them would lose any desire for him pretty damn fast.

So he was all talk and no action.

Damn it, this whole thing was a stupid idea. Sooner or later he's going to run into something that implodes this fledgling thing between them fast... and then he's going to be stuck as his ex's neighbour. Great.

His smile has slipped a bit, getting lost in his own head for too long.]

[andstripes]

[That's sad, because that means Bucky might be missing the way Steve goes even redder all over again.

He's not a virgin. He's not. But his experience has been minimal, and a long time ago. There were always other things that needed his attention rather than relationships, even casual ones.

He notices the way Bucky's smile has slipped a little, though he can't tell the reason. Maybe Bucky's really not into the idea of such an easy to embarrass partner? Quick, Steve, make a recovery!]

Okay, now you're just trying to see how red you can get me. The bowl has nothing to do with it.

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[Steve's comments snap him back into the room and his grin reasserts itself on his face.]

Red is your colour, what can I say? Now, c'mon, if this bowl needs more polite hands touching it to get the batter right, then you need to take over. Else you'll never be ready to ask a guy out on a pancake date.

[andstripes]

You're the boss.

[Steve's still smiling rather bashfully, still faintly pink as he takes over again. Following direction is good, it doesn't cool the blood exactly (Bucky's voice does things, okay) but it does give him something else to focus on. And Steve is one of those people that's gotta give 110% at anything he puts his mind to.]

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[He has to say that it's kind of endearing to watch how very earnest Steve is when he follows the instructions Bucky gives, and eventually there's a stack of golden brown pancakes sitting on one of the plates nearby.]

Now-- take a bite of that and then look me in the eye and tell me that your mix is worth it, I dare you.

[andstripes]

[Steve looks a little skeptical, to be fair. To be fair, it's not because he doubts Bucky. He doubts his own skill - what if he screwed them up? Less margin for error with boxed mix. He really doesn't want to screw them up, though.

But still he takes a bite just the same.

Okay, yeah, if anything now he's a little surprised Bucky didn't just deck him before for the boxed mix thing. He has seen the light.]

... I'm never eating anything else ever.

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[That makes him laugh, a surprised and genuine laugh that makes his nose crinkle up at the end.]

You see? I told you they were better, and you were gonna ask some poor guy on a date with box pancakes. Call yourself an artist, Teach, but you forget that cooking is an art too.

[He reaches out and snags a forkful for himself, munching contentedly.]

This isn't the date, you know? I'm not dressed up for it or anything.

[andstripes]

Could have fooled me, thought you were going for the rugged look.

[Steve's pretty sure it would be impossible for Bucky to not look attractive no matter what he was wearing.]

But I'm not dressed up either. It's a pre-date. To make sure the date goes okay. And I don't make stupid mistakes like boxed pancakes.

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[Steve's too free with his compliments, Bucky can't quite decide if he's embarrassed or just happy about someone thinking he's at least halfway attractive.]

Right, right.

[He taps a thumb to his chin faux thoughtfully.]

But you see, we've gotta problem. You've had coaching on how to impress your date, you're ahead, where's my advantage?

[andstripes]

[Steve leans in to bump his shoulder against Bucky - it's a light thing, just good natured ribbing, voice mock offended.]

Bold talk from the man that can make me go red as a tomato in five words or less.

[advanced]

[He stiffens just a bit at the contact, barely noticeable, just instinct rather anything else. He really hopes Steve doesn't notice and think that Bucky doesn't want him to touch.]

Hey, that's not enough. I want to impress-- c'mon, Steve, how does a guy make a date special for you?

[andstripes]

[Any date at all is special for Steve, but he isn't sure he wants Bucky to know just how awkward and inexperienced he is there. There's making your potential partner comfortable and then there's just admitting to how much of a weirdo you are.

So, quick, Steve, think of something... So he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.]

You could model for me.

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[Bucky's eyebrows shoot straight up, half amused and half surprised. Whatever else he might have thought Steve would come out with, modelling for him really wasn't on the list at all.]

Oh yeah?

[He can't help it if that sounds slightly suggestive.]

Don'tcha think that might be kind of a third or fourth date kind of thing?

[andstripes]

[See? See? This is what he was talking about, Bucky!

Redfaced, Steve shoves some more pancakes into his mouth so he doesn't have to fumble over his words. He cannot make eye contact with Bucky.

Asking Natasha to model was never this hard, but he also never wanted to sleep with Natasha.]

You don't - you don't have to remove any more clothing than you're comfortable with. You're just - uh. You're. Very nice to look at. And pleasing to draw.

[Please god open a pit under him and let him sink down into it.]

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[This cannot be real, Steve can't be a real person. He must be being punked on one of those reality tv shows where an actor is portraying the world's most perfect guy, and eventually everyone will jump out and yell sucker at him for believing it.]

So what? I need to be on your couch and ask you to paint me like one of your French girls?

[He's laughing now, but not in a cruel way, just genuinely amused.]

But, I mean, sure... if that's your ideal date, I'll sit for you when we actually do this thing. Which-- are you going to ask me on a concrete date with a day assigned to it, or what?

[andstripes]

Guess I'm still worried if I set a date you'll bail on me. It's happened before.

[In spite of this, there's no bitterness if Steve's voice when he says it.]

When's best for you? Guess us living in the same building makes transportation easier... Especially if it's just making pancakes and you modeling for me.

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[Is he serious? What kind of asshole just bails on an Adonis like Steve Rogers? His expression softens, something earnest in his eyes to replace the tease.]

You set a date, Steve, I'll be there. Count on it.

[He would write himself a million post-its if he had to, in order to stop his crappy brain ruining this for him.]

[andstripes]

This Saturday? [Steve glances back to Bucky and he just looks so damn hopeful.] Gives me a chance to get more ingredients for pancakes, more coffee... make sure the lighting is good...

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This Saturday, say-- eleven?

[A morning date isn't the most standard, but if Steve needs good lighting and they're having traditional breakfast food, then--]

That gives me time to avoid at least one more of those classes at the rec centre.

[andstripes]

[Steve laughed a bit, relaxing again.]

Not sure I should be encouraging that... but yeah. Eleven sounds great. Should I pick you up?

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Sorry, Teach, but those classes were a bust anyway, didn't you see my boat? Art is not my strongest skill.

[He offers a lopsided grin and pushes off the counter towards the door.]

I guess I'll see you on Saturday, huh? You can pick me up, sounds good.

[There wasn't any need for him to be collected to go down one flight of stairs, but it was kind of romantic that Steve even offered, so he'd go with it.]

[andstripes]

[Since Bucky is making an exit, Steve stays true to form and gets the door for him. Saturday can't come fast enough, even if he's still got a lot (in his mind) to prep for.]

Saturday, then. It's a date.

[advanced]

[Bucky has to tamp down the urge to stay a bit later, just chatting and getting to know Steve. This is so bad, he's falling so hard already, and he's determined to keep at least some control on this runaway train. That doesn't mean that he won't be dreaming about Steve and that ass in tight pants tonight...

Not that Steve will have to wait til Saturday to get to hear more about the date. Some time while he's at work on Friday, one of his colleagues meanders into the office and grins at him.]

Uh oh, Steve, I think you're in trouble... some woman is here looking for you, and she has a face like she's ready to spit nails.

[The woman in question is Rebecca Barnes, not that Steve would recognise her as such if he braves coming out to see. She's just a slender, slightly short, brunette lady with a scowl on her face.]