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“Whatcha painting?”
Pausing as he spread deep blue across the canvas, Steve shrugged. “Honestly, not sure. Mostly just trying out new paints. New colours, you know.” Pushing an errant strand of his bangs out of his eyes with the back of his hand, he glanced over to where Bucky was watching him, an eyebrow raised. Which meant he was plotting something - as if they hadn’t known each other long enough for Steve Rogers to be able to read every single one of Bucky Barnes’ tells. The way his eyebrows were raised, that ghost of a smirk on his face, even the way he was standing all spoke of an anticipation and a hope that Steve would take the bait and ask what was going on. Low hanging fruit that it was, he rolled his eyes and went for it, pausing to regard his best friend again.
“Okay, spit it out. What’s spinning around in that mind of yours? Going out again tonight? Planning to get past 2nd base with that redhead you were talking about last week?”
The words grated on his palate even as he forced them out, because they were normal and expected and probably true. And he didn’t want to hear about the redhead with the curves that didn’t stop.
“Half right.” Bucky replied with a chuckle as he hooked thumbs into his suspenders. “You’re right on the ‘going out’ part, but it ain’t that redhead I was fancying taking with me. Going somewhere new tonight, so… figured this time I’d ask someone else. Hoped maybe this mouthy little blonde that I know would finally agree to go out with me and we’d paint the town instead of another canvas. So, whatcha say, Stevie?”
He’d managed to squeeze about half of the tube of dark blue paint out onto the desk without realizing it as fingers clenched around it in reaction. Not surprise - it was hardly the first time that Bucky had suggested such a thing - and not in revulsion either. This…. Thing between them wasn’t unfamiliar, it wasn’t anything that either of them tried to deny. It was there, like some curling ember smoldering in the depths of Bucky’s blue eyes and the heated glances that Steve tossed at the brunette’s back when Bucky wasn’t looking. And it wasn’t something that he was ashamed of - that had taken time, time to accept that no matter how much he had hated the idea of being… like that.... It was fact and wasn’t going away. But that didn’t mean he had to act on it. A stolen kiss or two when they’d both been drunk late at night on the fire escape was an entirely different thing from going out dancing. Together, not as a double date with a couple of girls whio would both be glued to Bucky’s side while he silently seethed and felt like a third wheel.
Sucking in a slow breath, Steve loosened his fingers from the tube of paint and turned attention back to the canvas. “No.”
He caught Bucky’s shoulders slump out of the corner of his eye and registered the heaving sigh before his chair was rudely and unexpectedly swung around to face the other man. Which of course led to him grabbing for palette and the open jars of paint that had just tipped over and splashed all across the surface of the table. Swearing, he shoved back and tried to salvage the mess.
“Son of a bitch, Bucky! The fucking hell did you do that for, now the table’s covered in paint!”
“Good! Then maybe you’ll stop paying attention to that and I can talk some sense into your head for once.” Bucky snapped back as he reached for Steve’s shoulder to spin him around. Only to get a pair of blue handprints in the middle of his shirt as the slighter man shoved him back with an angry glare.
“I said no, Buck. We’ve had this conversation and that’s still the answer. No.”
“And why the hell not?” He let himself give in to a bit of the frustration and swept another jar of paint over to splash Steve with the dark indigo pigment. Served him right for the handprints, little shit. As if he had a dozen good shirts. “And don’t try to lie to me and tell me for one goddamned second that it’s because you don’t want it too because we both know that you do. You make excuse after excuse about why we can’t. Until we’re both drunk and you won’t have to remember the things you ask for. I love you, Steve. And I know for a fact that you love me too, so don’t try and say I’ve lost my mind or something. So why can’t we just give this a shot? What’s stopping us?”
Steve stiffened in his grip, looking at the ground, and Bucky felt some of his frustrated anger drain away. He understood, he really did. Being like that, being… together. It wasn’t something the rest of the world would welcome or readily accept. And sure, he knew it was probably more difficult for Steve who already had the eye of the world looking down on him for being small and sickly, but…. It didn’t matter what they’d been told in church, what people would whisper on the streets, what strangers would think…. Because the feelings that welled up in him every time those blue eyes twinkled and that smile spread across Steve’s face could never be wrong. Nothing that felt so perfect, so…. right could be a sin. But Steve wasn’t going to budge, at least not like this. Not his Steve, the blonde was too stubborn, and once he’d set his mind to being stubborn, he just dug his heels in even more. Which left it up to Bucky to try and convince him that anything that might happen…. Was worth it, was ,i>so worth it if he would just take that chance.
HIs fingers loosened on Steve’s arm, leaving purplish paint trails on the blonde man’s sleeve as Steve turned back to the table to begin righting the overturned jars and setting them back onto their tray. And then an idea hit him. One that was so crazy it might work, even if he only got him as far as getting Steve to listen to him for once. That would be a step, right? And he loved Steve, his Stevie was his world and if he had to potentially make a fool of himself to get that across….then so be it.
Setting another now empty pot of paint back onto the tray, Steve froze as the taller man behind him began to sing. Not that Bucky had a bad voice, it was just…. Weird didn’t really even cover it as he turned around to regard his best friend with a look that suggested he’d just lost his mind. Was Bucky actually….serenading him? That seemed to be the case as Bucky grinned and kept singing to him.
“You know I want you
It’s not a secret I try to hide
I know you want me
So don’t keep saying our hands are tied.”
It was honestly… sweet, in a way, but he wasn’t going to fall for it and he snorted softly as he shook his head and kept cleaning up. “Whatever you’re trying, it’s not going to change anything, Buck. So just… stop it.”
Instead of stopping, Bucky closed the distance and twined fingers through Steve’s paint-covered ones to twirl him around, not seeming to care that Steve took the opportunity to press another paint handprint onto Bucky’s cheek with an attempted glare.
“You claim it’s not in the cards
That fate is pulling you miles away,
And out of reach from me.
But you’re here in my heart,
So who’s to stop me if I decide
That you’re my destiny?”
“Seriously, Bucky. This is sappy, even for you, and you aren’t even drunk so just… cut it out.” Turning to walk away was futile as a strong arm slipped around his waist and spun him back into Bucky’s space as the brunette pulled the slighter man against him with a smile and a shake of his head.
“Why don’t we rewrite the stars?
Say you were made to be mine?
Nothing could keep us apart,
And you’d be the one I was meant to find.”
Pulling Steve along with him as he spun them, dancing as he sang whatever thoughts were in his head, somehow forming it into a passable melody and combing fingers through blonde hair. Come on, Stevie… give me a chance here. The only one standing in our way is you.
“It’s up to you
And it’s up to me
No one can say what we get to be.
So why don’t we rewrite the stars?
Maybe the world can be ours, tonight.”
Alright, if this was the way that Bucky intended to play, then two could play at that game. Twisting in Bucky’s grip, he wiped his hand through the muddled mix of blue and indigo paint. Reaching up to twine fingers into Bucky’s hair and slide his hand down in an almost caress as he pushed away again and added his own words to the ‘song’ that Bucky seemed to be composing from out of nowhere.
“You think it’s easy?
You think I don’t want to run to you?
But there are mountains,
And there are doors that we can’t walk through.
I know you’re wondering why,
Because we’re able to be just you and me
Within these walls.
But when we go outside, you’re gonna wake up and find
That it was hopeless after all.”
Bucky nearly tripped over his own feet as Steve did the unthinkable - the ‘thinkable’ would have been to either punch him or burst out laughing - and started singing back. And at first he figured it was the blonde’s way of mocking him...until he realized the truth in those words. Those fears and doubts and hangups that Steve had hedged at but never really spelled out to him because he’d always stop himself and declare that it was pointless because it wouldn’t change anything anyway. The paint dripping down the side of his face was a chill shock back to reality, and he almost let go of Steve’s smaller form before shaking his head inwardly. Oh hell no, not when he seemed to be actually making some progress. Grabbing a thin wrist to twirl the blonde as he kept listening to Steve’s words.
“No one can rewrite the stars,
How can you say you’ll be mine?
Everything keeps us apart
And I’m not the one you were meant to find
It’s not up to you, it’s not up to me
When everyone tells us what we can be
How can we rewrite the stars, say that the world can be ours tonight?”
And there. That was the chink in the armour that he had been waiting for. When the denials and dismissals slipped just enough to let that little bit of hopefulness show. That little bit of whimsy that made it obvious that Steve’s arguments were as much a defense for himself as they were actual reasons why they should stop. Because Bucky had no plans to stop. Not when he could see that resolve weakening, could feel it in the way the tension was starting to ease out of Steve, those arms braced less firmly against his own chest, giving up the distance that he knew Steve put there to protect himself. Sliding his own hand up to cup the back of Steve’s head, he pulled them closer together as he cut in again.
“I just want to fly with you
Just want to fall with you
So just give me all of you…”
Damn Bucky, he knew when he was winning and Steve knew it too because he could feel the determination fading, giving into the desire to just…. Let go. To give in and let Bucky hold him and just savour that closeness even if it were only possible in dreams and fantasies and times like this when it was just the two of them.
“It feels impossible.”
Bucky’s deeper voice cut him off, blending with his own.
“It’s not impossible.”
His other hand tightened around Steve’s waist and he finally let his own arms relax and slip around Bucky’s neck in a silent acquiescence as he fixed his gaze on those blue eyes to ask one simple questioning plea.
“Say that it’s possible.”
Bucky’s face broke into a smile as he nodded, closing the distance to catch Steve’s lips in a kiss as he spun them around again before he just kept on singing. Like the idiot that he was, and Steve laughed and shook his head and sang along with him. Losing himself in this simple pleasure, soaking up the closeness and allowing himself to just believe, even for a moment...that this could work. That they could have the whole world, that they could have everything and nothing would tear them apart.
“How do we rewrite the stars,
Say you were made to be mine
Nothing can keep us apart
Cuz you are the one I was meant to find
It’s up to you, and it’s up to me
No one can say what we get to be
Why don’t we rewrite the stars,
Changing the world to be ours, tonight?”
They were both covered in paint, smears and handprints marring skin and clothes as Bucky finally stopped spinning them, his song tapering off into a gentle hum as he held Steve tight against him and rested his chin on top of blonde hair. So he’d made a right fool of himself, and he’d probably sounded like a cross between a toad and scraping metal, but it had been worth it. Because it had worked. It had worked and he was holding his Stevie and everything was right with the world. At least, that was what he’d thought until he could feel the tension start to bleed back into that small form, feel those hands come up to gently push against him as Steve stepped back with a soft shake of his head, eyes trained on the floor. Whispering, his voice catching.
“You know I want you,
It’s not a secret I try to hide.
But I can’t have you,
We’re bound to break and my hands are tied….”
And oh hell no, he wasn’t going to let that stand, and as Steve slipped away his own hand shot out to wrap gently but firmly around one paint-smeared wrist. Holding the fleeing blonde in place as he swallowed hard, silently praying that this would work.
“Then tie them to mine, Stevie. Tie them to mine, and if you’re right and we break….then I’ll put us back together. Just… stop running from this. Stop turning your back on it, on us. Because there’s something there, Stevie. And it’s worth hanging onto. Worth trying for, if you just give it a chance.” Swallowing hard, he pulled gently and was silently relieved when Steve didn’t protest and let himself be tugged back over. “Give me a chance, Stevie…”
Goddammit, why did Bucky have to sound so….desperate. So sincere and so desperate and he did want to give this a chance but there were so many things that could go wrong. So many ways this could break around them, but somehow fighting against it anymore just seemed...too hard. Bucky’s hand around his wrist was warm and he worked his wrist free to slip fingers down and slowly twine them into those larger ones with a squeeze and a nod. “Okay, Bucky. I won’t keep running. I can’t promise that I believe this will work, but…. You’re right. It is worth a chance.”
The relief was palpable and he really didn’t think before he yanked Steve into his arms again, tightening them around the slighter man as he whispered a thank you against blonde hair before brushing a gentle kiss to Steve’s temple. “I’m not going to say I’m sorry about the table. Not when this is the outcome. But I will buy you some more paint when I get paid.”
Steve snorted softly, turning his head to glance at the dark blue and purple swirls of paints that spread across what had once been their kitchen table. An idea flickering into his mind as he smiled and pulled away to go back to the paints. “Actually, I think I have an idea.” Dipping his fingertips into the pot of white paint - that had somehow not been turned over - he pulled them out to flick them at the table, splattering a galaxy of white speckles across it before glancing back at Bucky with a grin. “There. That’s how you rewrite the stars.”