Chapter Text
For the hundredth time that evening, Alex checks the time on his phone. Eight minutes till the start of their uni’s slam poetry competition. The girls and Macon are already inside, saving them a good spot where they will be able to see and hear Daniels on stage clearly. But damn it, they’re gonna miss the whole thing if they don’t head inside soon. Alex’s right foot jiggles as he purses his lips and gives Gale a look.
Gale doesn’t see it. Nope. He’s staring off to the side, where the path from the nearest parking lot rounds the building towards the entrance. He’s oblivious to Alex’s growing tension and the longing way George stares at him where the three of them stand waiting for Bucky to show up. As Alex watches, he reaches towards his ear, then runs a hand through his short, fluffy blond hair like that. It’s a nervous gesture he still hasn’t grown out of since he cut his hair, but it’s getting better. Last fall, he used to laugh at himself whenever he forgot that his hair wasn’t long anymore.
“Guys, we should head inside.” Alex tells them with a tinge of urgency in his voice. God, how he hates to be late! “Bucky can join us later.”
“Yeah.” George agrees, then reaches out and squeezes Gale’s elbow. “Come on, Gale, let’s go.”
Alex shifts in discomfort when he sees Gale brush the touch away out of reflex. This has been going on for… at least half a year now. Since about October, two months or so into their first semester at this college. George met Gale when they both started working part-time in the library, and then he joined their little friend group too. If Alex had to wager a guess, he would say that the poor idiot developed a crush on Gale at first sight. Which is, well, understandable. But fortunate? Hell no. Gale is probably the best looking guy in their year, with his doe eyes and angelic face, even if he doesn’t see it himself, and he’s wicked smart too. Had Alex been interested in men, he figures he might have fallen for him too. But whoever wants to get with Gale is bound to fall on their ass, because that boy is as taken as one can be without a wedding ring on his finger.
Okay, truth be told, they had their doubts about that last semester, when Gale was constantly fighting with his jock of a boyfriend and their relationship seemed to be on the rocks. They were on the usual course high school couples take once they enter college - a path going straight towards a messy, tear-soaked breakup. At one point, Alex even told Gale that he would be better off without that wreck of a relationship. Perhaps George developed his delusional pining because he saw a chance there. But if there ever was an opening, it’s long gone, because through some miracle, Gale found a way to make up with Bucky, and something changed. Almost overnight, the miserable look and the dark circles under his eyes disappeared from Gale’s face. He has been feeling better and better every day since then. In all the eight months that Alex has known him, he has never seen him as head over heels in love as he is nowadays.
“Gale.” Alex sighs in exasperation. “We’re gonna be late.”
Gale flashes him a sheepish look, sticking his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket. “Go ahead, I’ll wait a few more minutes.”
“He’s clearly too busy to make it.” George chimes in. It’s so obvious that he wants it to be true. To spend an evening with Gale, consoling him after his boyfriend stood him up. Alex is tempted to tell him to forget it already and get over Gale, but he holds his tongue as usual. What does he know anyway? After all, he didn’t expect Gale’s relationship to survive past Thanksgiving, and yet, it clearly did. And for all his shortcomings, he can give Bucky one thing - even during their worst days, he never once missed an event when he promised to show up.
“He said he was on his way.” Gale says resolutely, with the certainty of someone who has never been let down by an SO before. He cranes his neck to scan the footpath again, biting his lip, but a moment later, a beaming grin splits his face. “There he is.”
Alex shakes his head, letting a small smile of amusement tug at his mouth as he spots the figure jogging towards them. From the moment they were introduced, Bucky has always looked like an oversized puppy to him. Hands and feet and shoulders all too large for the rest of his body, a coltish thinness in his arms and chest. But with all the training and hormones or whatever, he has been bulking into that frame rapidly since the start of their first semester, and he looks huge now. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the quick, generous flash of his smile and the way his eyes crinkle when they land on Gale.
“I’m not late!” is the first thing he says, loud and out of breath, but obviously pleased with himself. He looks like he got dressed in a hurry. His hair is a mess of dishevelled curls, his dress shirt is buttoned up wrong and half of it hangs untucked over his hip. The right leg of his dark trousers is caught inside his sock.
George looks about as sour to see him as Gale is happy.
“Jesus, John.” Gale chuckles. When Bucky is within arm’s reach, he cups Bucky’s face and gives him a peck on the mouth. Their lips part with a damp sound that leaves George’s gaze dark with jealousy. Alex shoots him a glance of pity. Oblivious to all this, Gale huffs, and his fingers move to fly over Bucky’s shirt, pushing buttons out of their holes and opening the fabric to align the two sides properly. It meets no protest whatsoever from Bucky. “You didn’t have to dress up.”
“Didn’t I?” Bucky laughs at Alex and George, eager to share his good mood, even if it’s at his own expense. It’s one of the things Alex likes about him the most. He grins back, but George’s expression looks more like a grimace a medieval painter would draw on a grotesque cat’s face. If Bucky picks up on it, he doesn’t show it. He just claps George on the shoulder and holds onto him to make small talk as Gale finishes righting his clothes. “How’s it going, man?”
It’s astonishing to watch that despite George’s pining and jealousy, Bucky’s easygoing personality eases the bitterness out of him in the two minutes it takes for them to finally enter the venue. It’s a relief. Alex would have hated it if any of them spent the evening in a bad mood when this is supposed to be Daniels’ night, and they all came to support him and celebrate his talent. They haven’t been friends all that long yet. It would crush Alex if their little group fell apart so soon already because of an unlucky crush.
Inside, the room is already packed. They cut it too close. There’s barely any space now to move to the table where the girls wave at them excitedly. George weaves his way through the crowd first, and Gale and Bucky follow. As Alex walks behind them, he sees Bucky’s fingers hook into Gale’s belt loop to tug playfully until Gale pries them away to drag him towards the table by his hand instead. They get there just as one of the event organizers walks up on stage to do a final microphone test.
“Oh, shoot.” Judy gives them an apologetic look when she looks them over. “Someone took one of our chairs.”
Alex can smell a lie when he hears one - the girls must have thought that Bucky wasn’t going to make it on time and they let someone take his seat. He chews at the inside of his mouth, trying to think of a solution in the two minutes they have left, but Bucky waves them off before he could come up with anything.
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll just go stand over there.” He gestures at one of the corners of the room at random, already moving to step away, but Gale pulls him back by the hand.
“I can sit on your lap.” He says. Alex has the perfect angle to see Bucky’s eyes light up, and George’s face fall.
Bucky presses his knuckles to Gale’s cheek for a moment. “Always so smart, baby.”
“It’s hardly rocket science.” Gale rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. When Bucky takes a seat, he settles down on his lap with only the slightest blush colouring his skin.
From his own chair, Alex can’t help but watch them. He has always been the observer type, it just comes with the territory of being an artist. He likes taking note of how people move together, how the shadows and curves of their bodies change as they touch, how their clothes crease. When he was a kid, he used to make up stories about the people he watched, the way one fills a painting with meaning as they look at it. Lately, he has been considering doing a few classes in Psychology, because he may try to make fewer assumptions these days but he can’t stop looking.
Back when Gale first opened up to him about the relationship troubles he had, he told Alex that he found it difficult to initiate anything physical. Be that a hug, a kiss or sex, Gale struggled when he had to be the one reaching out first, and he beat himself up over it. But when Alex glances at him now, he doesn’t see any of that inhibition anymore. Without a hint of hesitation, he takes Bucky's hands in his and draws them around his waist, then rubs at Bucky's knuckles until Bucky’s muscles flex and squeeze at his sides.
“Oh, is that how it is?” Bucky whispers through a grin as he continues to grope and tickle Gale’s waist. Alex has no idea what he means, but Gale apparently does, because he snickers and wrestles with Bucky's hands, blissfully ignorant of the uncomfortable glances George shoots them.
Then, thankfully, someone steps up on stage and the audience goes quieter. The first artist starts their performance. Alex gets so lost in watching it that he doesn’t look at Gale and his boyfriend again until halfway through the event. But when he does, he realizes how foolish he was to ever think that Bucky didn’t love Gale as much as Gale loved him. Even in the dim light of the room, he can see the faint, content smile on Gale’s face as he listens to the girl on stage recite her poem into the mic. His eyes look happy and bright, a far contrast to how dejected he used to look when Alex thought he and Bucky wouldn’t make it. On his right thigh, he holds Bucky's hand flattened and strokes mindlessly at the back of it. It's not something he would have done so easily in public back when he and Alex met, but he doesn’t seem to even think about it now.
What really catches Alex’s attention though is the look on Bucky’s face. What's visible of it, that is, because it's pressed against Gale's neck, and Alex only sees the right side, but it's enough to tell that Bucky’s smiling. The corner of his closed eye crinkles, and his lips draw a curve of contentment in his angular cheek. He’s not watching the event at all, probably doesn’t give a fuck about slam poetry, but when Gale murmurs something about the performance, he nuzzles his agreement into Gale's skin. Gale leans his head against his.
Alex looks away. Among the dozens of drawing concepts floating around in his mind, one thought materializes with utmost clarity. Poor George never stood a chance, did he?