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The first time Bucky saw Steven Rogers stride through a parting crowd of admirers, he was struck, rooted to the spot, as if by some otherworldly magic. Tall, blonde, built like a brick shithouse, face like an angel- and seemingly unaware of it, the way Steve was nothing like a douchebag. He should have been, but he wasn’t. ‘I’d wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies’, Bucky thought. He also thought, ‘I wanna suck his dick.’ It was both poetic by way of Hozier, and horny by way of his crotch.
It was also a complete hail mary pass, should he ever attempt to, given that Steven Rogers is the beloved college football captain and quarterback, while James Buchanan Barnes (Bucky to his friends if he ever finds some) was just some complete rando going to the same class as the aforementioned big man at campus. Ever felt like an extra in your own life? That’s how Bucky felt every time he went to Introduction to Modern Literature and sitting just behind Steven Rogers.
“You want I can introduce you guys?” Natasha Romanov asked with an impish smile on her face.
“Whu...?” Was all Bucky could reply as he continued to stare as if in a trance at the blonde jock passing by their table at the cafeteria. When Steven was out of sight and he regained consciousness, he turned to his drama club compatriot (okay, friend, so he was exaggerating about having no friends) and asked again, clearer this time. “What?”
“You and Steve. You want me to introduce you guys?” She just repeated, nonchalant, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if to underscore how everyday common it was, she popped a french fry in her mouth and munched on it as she stared at Bucky with mild interest.
Bucky just boggled at her. “How?”
“I have my ways.” And she smiled what Bucky called her Gioconda smile (he was pretentious enough to not call it Mona Lisa smile).
And whatever way it was, Bucky would never fully know, but it certainly worked because here he was, sitting in front of the Steven Rogers, at the diner off-campus, next to a smug Natasha who was chatting effortlessly with Sam Wilson, the school’s running back. Natasha had made sure that he was first in the booth so she can block his exit and therefore he couldn’t slink away when their evening’s companions came through the door. And to be honest Bucky didn’t even believe it was them that the two athletes were heading to up until the moment Steven Rogers slid into the booth, sitting opposite him with a polite smile on his face, looking at him a bit expectantly.
“Hi, I’m Steven, but I’d rather be called Steve.”
Natasha saved Bucky from embarrassing himself at the go by introducing them both, “I’m Natasha and this is my best friend James, but he prefers to be called Bucky.”
“And I’m Sam, not that anyone’s asking.” The running back proclaimed jovially. From that point on Natasha focused her attentions on Sam, and Bucky was only vaguely aware of their conversation because most of his attention was focused on Steve. Not talking to him, but just... staring. And then catching himself staring and then ducking his head and turning to look at Natasha, who was still ignoring him, and then looking back at Steve again, and staring again, and the cycle went on until Steve politely asked a question.
“You’re in my class, right? Intro to Modern Lit?”
Bucky could only nod, not trusting his voice to betray him by blurting out the words running through his head right now ‘holy shit its him its really him gods what do I do he looks so good up close he’s talking to me Jesus H. Christ on a stick get it together Buck’.
“Uh, so... do you enjoy the class?” Steve asked, still trying to jumpstart a conversation with a stalled Bucky. Of course all he got was another nod. When Steve looked away to say something to Sam, Bucky squeezed his eye shut and took Natasha’s hand under the table in a death grip. Natasha barely winced and nudged him hard in the shoulder. She whispered through a smile, “get it together Barnes.”
Bucky, in the midst of panic, took Natasha’s advice and a deep breath. When Steve’s conversation with Sam ended (something about football practice, Bucky assumed), Bucky was now smiling as if he wasn’t acting like a fish out of water earlier. Steve looked at him again and this time Bucky smiled his most charming smile.
“Sorry about earlier, I’m not... very sociable.”
Steve smiles back and shrugs. “I kinda noticed. You don’t really interact with the rest of the class.”
This time it was Bucky’s turn to shrug. “I’m kind of an introvert, I guess?”
Steve nodded as if to say so was he, but how could that be given how popular he is, Bucky wondered. “So, how are you finding Madame Bovary?”
“Uh,” Steve stalled, put a hand to his neck and then leaned on the table. “It’s taking me a while to finish.”
“Not into the whole realism thing then?” Bucky asked archly.
Steve smiled and held up his hands, “all right, you caught me. I don’t really care for realism.”
This took Bucky back a bit, and he couldn’t stop the question before it left his mouth, “why take Intro to Modern Lit then?”
And then, something happened. Bucky had to blink twice and stare to make sure it was what it was. Steve was blushing. Bucky couldn’t believe it. He knew he was staring again and it made Steve’s color deepen. “I...” Steve started, scratched the back of his head, then continued, “... I may have taken the class just to get close to someone.”
Bucky was thunderstruck. Without being aware of it, he leaned on his arms on the table, put his face close to Steve as possible and whispered, “who?”
“Um,” Steve said again, and then he took a deep breath and leaned closer, and whispered back, “it’s actually you.”