Work Text:
Steve hadn’t let Peter see his sketchbook, he assumed it was because he felt self conscious over his art skills. Which was a shock to Peter given he’d seen other art of Steve’s, he was clearly very talented.
They’d been dating for a little while and had been taking it slow at Steve’s insistence because I want to do this right by you. Peter was young, needy for it at times but found it sweet he was old fashioned in that way.
One day a slip of Peter’s hand revealed the bigger reason for Steve’s hesitation to show him the book's contents. He had accidentally knocked it clumsily, pushing it onto the floor. When Peter looked down what he saw had his already guilt flushed cheeks darkening.
The sketchbook was open, revealing not one but two drawings of him. On the right side his face, a close up of him smiling. Steve made him look soft and light, like sunshine.
The sketch on the left was him, obviously from Steve’s imagination. He was kneeling on the floor, shirtless with rosy cheeks, in a position he’d never been seen in before. Steve had even included his top surgery scars which made his heart feel full, they were courtesy of Mr Stark’s generosity.
The image was cut off at his waist, it was hardly even provocative but Peter knew. It had heat pooling in his stomach and his mind running wild. He quickly snatched it up before Steve entered the room again, knowing the perfect- but terrifying- way to show him it was okay.
The next day Steve walked into his room to find Peter kneeling, copying how he was drawn. Looking up at Steve with a mix of anxiety, excitement and mischievousness.
The reality dawned on Steve who had been stunned speechless for an embarrassing few seconds. “Oh god, you saw-”
Peter cut off the apology that was no doubt coming. “I thought this would be better, the proportions were a bit off,” he mused with a cheeky smile, heart racing. Please, don’t tell me to leave.
“Is that so?” Steve read him easily, eyes softening before he smirked and shut the door behind himself.
Steve got a pillow from his bed, not wanting him to be uncomfortable. Peter watched confusedly before he instructed gently, “For your knees, lift up for a second.” Not that he really needed to with the way Steve lifted him, placing him back down onto the pillow, leaving Peter flustered and mumbling his thanks.
Steve then sat down on the edge of the bed, picking up his sketchbook and pencils. “I better get this one just right then, baby.” Truthfully he didn’t think any artwork could live up to the beauty that was Peter.
Peter bit his lip, shifting to get comfortable, “Is this okay?”
Steve hadn’t been able to pull his eyes away, “It’s perfect.” He breathed out, “You’re perfect.”
His smile was encouraging even with his eyes gleaming with something more, the butterflies in Peter’s stomach wouldn’t go away. Steve’s attention was addictive, he soaked it up eagerly and let himself enjoy being the focus of it.