Chapter Text
The first time Bucky manages to see Steve's drawings, Steve never finds out.
It's not like he's never seen the sketchbooks at all. Steve's shown him stuff before, various drawings and doodles he's done. Some in class, stylized caricatures of their teacher or the way Helen's new hairstyle gave her a funny-looking shadow. Some just from out on the streets, like the old man they see in the park every day feeding pigeons with hardened bread crusts, or the view of the Brooklyn Bridge from one of the piers. He's shown Bucky his drawings. He's just never shown him these.
It happens one morning, after Bucky's spent yet another night on Steve's couch. It's earlier than he's used to waking up, when the sun is still pretty new in the sky, and once he cracks his eyes open, he can see Steve at the little kitchen table, smell the twice-brewed pot of coffee he'd made. "Steve?"
Steve visibly jumps at the sound of his voice, though he recovers quickly. "Hey." His voice is quiet as he speaks, gentle, and Bucky closes his eyes again as he smiles. "Did I wake you?" Idly, Bucky wonders just where Steve's voice comes from; how does such a steady, comfortable sound come outta his skinny chest? Where does it go? S'okay though; he could listen to Steve talk for hours, probably. And there's a quiet laugh from across the room. "Well, thanks for that. Go back to sleep, Buck. We got the whole day for you to listen to me talk." He sighs at the suggestion; more sleep sounds like a great idea, and Bucky's out like a light before Steve finishes the sentence.
When he wakes up next, it's closer to 10AM and he's got a serious crick in his neck. Bucky cracks it fast, hissing when it pops, and yawns as he looks around the room. ( Wonders quietly if he'd just dreamed Steve talking to him, and figures he must have; he also dreamed that Steve had been a lady and they'd gone dancing together. ) It takes a minute before he hears it: running water, the sounds of splashing. Oh. Steve must be in the bath. Bucky grins, pads into the kitchen to make himself some coffee.
And sees Steve's sketchbook lying innocuously on the table.
He stares at it for longer than he'd like to admit. He can't help being curious, about the new stuff he's done and the pages Steve won't show him. But a man's gotta have his privacy, right? If Steve doesn't want to show him, maybe it's for a good reason. Could be something embarrassing, like self-portraits or nudie drawings.
...or maybe Steve's got his eye on someone. Maybe he's been drawing them, and he doesn't want Bucky to know who it is. The sick little twist in his gut is what spurs him on ( it's not jealousy — is it? ), and there's a glance back at the bathroom door before flipping open the cover. Sorry, Steve. The first handful of pages is full of drawings he recognizes, stuff Steve's already shown him. After that, there are just sketches, loose figures done with sweeping lines that make Bucky think they'll end up dancing right off the page. It brings a smile to his face, and he can't help thinking again that Steve should look into some kind of career in art. If not the Sunday funnies, maybe they'd take him at that company that did the animated films, the Steamboat Willie and Silly Symphonies ones.
Bucky gets about a third of the way through Steve's sketchbook before he starts to see anything out of the ordinary. It starts off with more figure drawings, but as the pages go, they start to refine into more and more detail. He doesn't think anything of it until he sees his own face looking right back at him, and it steals Bucky's breath away. It takes up most of the center of the page, with doodles of various facial features off to the side. His features. He recognizes the curl of his own lips, the shape of his nose. The next page is full of his face in profile and from various angles, different expressions on each. Bucky's heart starts knocking around in his chest at the sight, breath coming up short with every new drawing.
Steve was drawing him. A lot, from the looks of it.
...supposing his earlier theory was true, does that mean Steve's got his eye on him? Bucky pulls in a soft breath at the next drawing, realizes with a start that he remembers this one happening: it takes up nearly the whole page, and the memory is vivid how he'd leaned out of the window for any sort of relief from the heat, sneaking glances over at Steve before falling asleep there. He brushes his fingers across the charcoal, touch light in an attempt not to smear it. And when he flips to the last finished drawing, it's a sketch of him sleeping. ( Was this... last night? ) They're quick lines, but there's so much detail— and despite the goofy expression on his face, Steve's still managed to make it something soft, peaceful. That twist in his gut unwinds into something airy, dizzying. There are more sketches after that, and it's hard not to pay attention to how much care is put into each one. Bucky's never been afraid to admit that he's handsome enough already, but with the way Steve draws him, he'd think that the man in the drawings had to be some kind of model, or a star in the pictures. Someone out of this world, and more than just a little bit precious.
Is this how Steve sees him?
Steve Rogers, I am completely over the moon for you. You don't tell me what this is, sooner or later I might think you're carrying a torch for me, too.
After a moment, he realizes that the sounds in the bathroom have stopped, replaced by a low rattle as the pipes drain. Bucky looks up toward the door, sees dark shapes moving in the crack underneath it. Panic floods through him then, and he's quick to close the sketchbook, hop across the kitchen to busy himself with making coffee again. Steve emerges from the bathroom just a few seconds later, clad only in his worn pajama bottoms and hair still damp. And Bucky can't help but hate the way his heart twinges when Steve grins at him.
"Mornin'. You actually awake this time?" Bucky frowns in confusion at the question, so Steve just shakes his head to dismiss it, nodding at the coffee pot in his hand. "Make me a cup too, will ya?"
Only if you explain what's goin' on with your sketchbook, is what he wants to say, but it's Steve's apartment and Steve's coffee, and he shouldn't have gone snooping besides. So Bucky just grins, does as he's asked, and it shifts to the back of his mind as the day goes on, gradually fades away.