Work Text:
Steve is going to go work for Disney for the summer.
And that is, well, it’s awesome. It’s great. Bucky is so proud of him, and he loves him so much, and this is gonna be great for his career, and.
Steve is going to be in California.
“What’re you looking at?” Steve asks, kicking Bucky’s ankle underneath the table.
Bucky should be studying, but Steve is drawing in charcoal, and seeing the dark stains grow on his fingertips is mesmerizing. Bucky really enjoys his topic: 19th-century American co-educational versus co-ordinate colleges, but reading course catalogues for various institutions will never hold his attention the way that Steve Rogers can.
“You,” Bucky says, and Steve doesn’t duck away like he used to, but he still blushes, so sweet in the quiet library. “Drawin’ Mickey Mouse?” Bucky asks, because he’s noticed the doodles in the margins of Steve’s notebooks.
“Can’t turn that in,” Steve responds, then lifts his sketchbook and hands it to Bucky. It’s him, in stylized, broad strokes of charcoal. Brows heavy, and eyes pointed downwards in concentration as he writes something.
“Think your profs are sick of you turnin’ my ugly mug in?”
Steve snorts, and reaches for the sketchbook. Bucky wants to flip through it, but gives it back anyway. “You’re beautiful,” Steve says, not meeting Bucky’s eyes. “Don’t think they could find a better model, even if they wanted one. Which they don’t.” He pauses, picks his charcoal back up. “I don’t.”
Bucky swallows down the lump in his throat. “Wanna grab some ice cream?” Bucky asks, casually flipping a page in the catalogue in front of him, peeking at Steve from the corner of his eye.
Steve makes a little noncommittal sound. “Maybe later,” he says. “Kind of on a roll right now.”
“Alright,” Bucky replies. “Just tell me when.”
“We’ve got time,” Steve responds, shading Bucky’s book.
But for some reason, it feels like they don’t.