Work Text:
According to Murphy’s Law, anything that could go wrong, will go wrong.
It was superstition, of course, and Bucky hadn’t really believed in that before. However, part way through the semester, he woke up with a cold, had no medication on hand, and slept in late for the Neuroscience class he couldn’t afford to miss. Then, to make matters worse, the campus parking lot was full when he arrived, and the heavens had seen it fit to unleash a pouring rainstorm on him.
Soaking wet and throat burning, he made it to the lecture hall with barely a minute to spare before he discovered that someone was in his seat.
It was an outrage, especially due to the fact that Bucky had taken the entire first week of the semester to pick out that particular spot in the middle of the room. It was three seats in from the aisle, far enough from the vent that air wasn’t directly blowing on him, and it was surrounded by people who actually listened during class.
It was his seat, and everyone knew that the unspoken rule among all the students was that once you settled into a spot, it was yours for the rest of the semester.
Apparently, this asshole failed to get the memo.
As Bucky got closer to the front of the room, Bucky could see the back of the guy’s blond head bent down over his desk. His broad shoulders strained the cotton fabric of the blue t-shirt he was wearing, and while Bucky would have paused to appreciate that on a different day, today, he was already cranky as hell from his growing headache.
He stopped at the end of his usual row, glaring at the thief’s profile as the guy continued to be lost in drawing something in his notebook. His brows were furrowed in concentration. Bucky hadn’t seen him before, but that was hardly surprising since the class had over a hundred students in it. Now that he was close enough to see, Bucky had to take a moment to admit that the guy was handsome with his defined jawline and cheekbones. He looked like a model with his muscled form and golden hair.
Bucky cleared his throat, and the guy finally looked up in surprise. For an awkward moment, they stared at each other before Dr. Cho arrived. The room was rapidly filling, and since the guy was not clueing in, Bucky had to find a seat in one of the back rows.
Bucky couldn’t concentrate on the lecture which was on traumas to the prefrontal cortex. He’d gotten stuck next to a girl who chewed her gum annoyingly loud, and he was still pissed at the guy who’d stolen his seat.
It didn’t matter how attractive the guy was. He was still a seat thief.
The next class, Bucky planned to get there early so that he could claim his seat before any interlopers could get to it, but as he walked into the lecture hall, Seat Thief was already there and in Bucky’s seat… again.
Logically, Bucky knew he could probably tap the guy on the shoulder and ask him to sit in a different spot, but Bucky was still not over his cold yet, and his runny nose did nothing to improve his mood. Instead, he sulked and chose to sit in the seat directly behind the guy. Bucky figured he could throw something at Seat Thief during class if he really annoyed him.
He dropped his backpack and books noisily. Seat Thief paused whatever he was sketching to turn his head around. Bucky frowned at him, blue eyes and long lashes be damned, and opened his textbook to the chapter he was supposed to have read last night. He kept his eyes down and pretended that he didn’t see the hopeful expression dimming on Seat Thief’s face before he turned to face the front again. Still feeling disappointed, Bucky glowered at the diagram of the forebrain and tried to reread the same sentence twice without really absorbing it.
For the rest of the class, Bucky continued to scowl at the back of Seat Thief’s head. He cursed the guy for being so distracting with everything that he did, especially the way he held his pencil loosely between his long fingers, fingers flexing as he switched between gripping it for writing and relaxing it when he was listening to the professor.
By the end of the lecture, Bucky couldn’t remember a word of it. He had been too preoccupied with the way the fluorescent light had shimmered off the guy’s hair. From his vantage point, Bucky could see the darker shade of brown underneath the blond hair. He contemplated what it would look like under natural sunlight. He was close enough that Bucky could reach out and touch Seat Thief, and even though his fingers itched for it, Bucky clenched his hands until his fingernails bit his palm. He gritted his teeth in frustration.
Bucky tried to get his seat back the next two weeks, but he eventually admitted defeat. The guy was always there before him and always in his seat.
He had to admit though, Seat Thief had an amazing ass. It was the kind of ass that Bucky wanted to grab. Just to verify if it really was as firm as it looked, he assured himself. He got an astounding viewing of it whenever class was over and the guy got up out his chair.
So, really, Bucky’s new seat wasn’t so terrible.
Bucky’s attention in class hadn’t improved. If anything, it had completely been diverted and focused on Seat Thief. It seemed that, in addition to monopolizing other people’s seats, Seat Thief was quite the artist. He drew in the margins of his notes. Sometimes his drawings were body parts and faces; other times, they were places and buildings. It was fascinating to watch how a few quick lines of his pencil could turn into a flawless drawing with faultless details and shading.
It was very distracting, to say the least. If he knew better, Bucky would just go find a different seat. He needed to pass this class to get his last science credit requirement, and he couldn’t afford to be distracted by a pretty boy with talented hands. He knew should move, but really, he wasn’t going anywhere.
They never spoke, but sometimes, before and after lectures, Seat Thief would catch his eye and give him a small smile. It was just a friendly gesture to show that he recognized a fellow classmate, but he didn’t do anything else to invite Bucky’s interest.
One day, Seat Thief turned around, and Bucky froze at the unanticipated direct gaze. He could feel the back of neck prickling from embarrassment because he had just taken a bite of his bagel and there were crumbs all over his face.
“Um,” the guy started slowly, his voice deeper and smoother than Bucky had fantasized. Bucky suppressed a shiver than ran down his spine, aware that he was going to be replaying this moment much later. “Could I borrow a pencil?”
Wordlessly, Bucky offered the only writing utensil he’d brought with him, and he was rewarded with a shy smile that he decided was totally worth not being able to take notes today.
He didn’t get his pencil back at the end of class, but Bucky didn’t mind so much because he realized that this was his perfect opportunity to start a conversation. His whole plan would start with him digging through his backpack and then casually asking the guy if he remembered returning Bucky’s pencil. Then, he would progress to trading names, and Bucky could finally stop referring to him as the gorgeous Seat Thief.
However, when the next class came, Seat Thief was gone. Bucky was disappointed, to put it mildly. Later, Natasha made fun of him when he admitted that his bad mood was due to the lack of hot guy watching during Neuroscience. He hadn’t realized how much he’d looked forward to this class just so he could stare at the back of some guy’s head.
When Seat Thief continued to be absent for the rest of the week, Bucky began to worry, and because his anxious mind was a real jerk sometimes, it started jumping to conclusions about why he wasn’t showing up anymore. It was possible that he knew Bucky was ogling him, and he found another spot in the lecture hall to steal. Or, perhaps Seat Thief had dropped the class, and Bucky realized that he’d never even actually said “hi” to the guy.
After a couple of days, Bucky reclaimed his original seat. The victory felt hollow.
The week after, Bucky had come early and sat in the near empty lecture hall, catching up on the readings when he heard a quiet cough. He looked up to see Seat Thief looking at him with a mixture of bemusement and… possibly fondness, but that could have been Bucky projecting his own emotions onto a stranger. He tamped down the little flutter of excitement in his chest.
“That’s my seat,” Seat Thief said after a beat.
He looked pale, and Bucky wondered if he’d been gone because he’d been sick. He wished he could ask without sounding like a creep.
“No, actually, it’s my seat,” he informed him.
“I’ve sat here for the past month and a half,” Seat Thief frowned, little lines forming on his forehead as he studied Bucky closely.
“Only because you stole it from me, and I haven’t been able to get it back.” Bucky felt the zip of adrenaline coursing through him. This was the longest conversation they’d ever had.
Bucky had intended to move eventually, but Seat Thief rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Oh. Okay,” before retreating up the stairs.
Bucky blinked, not expecting their exchange to end quite so quickly, and he was ready to call him back and surrender his seat, anything for a few more moments of attention from him.
Fortunately, Seat Thief didn’t go far. He sat down directly behind him in the seat that Bucky had been in for the last several weeks. When Bucky turned around, Seat Thief smirked at him, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything before Dr. Cho started the lecture.
During the entire class, Bucky felt the tingling sensation of being watched. He wondered if he was just imagining his heightened awareness because of the stunning guy behind him. He wished that he’d actually taken more care in choosing his outfit that morning instead of the old jeans and a worn t-shirt that was actually Clint’s but had somehow ended up in his dresser. It was torture to try to sit still for the entire hour, pretending to pay attention to the properties of the precentral gyrus, and not to fidget nervously.
The next class, Bucky arrived to class to find that Seat Thief had stolen his spot back. His eyes twinkled mischievously, and just like that, the game was on.
Bucky stole the seat back on Friday, but the following two classes, Seat Thief lived up to his moniker and the front seat was his. Bucky didn’t mind too much; he preferred to sit behind and watch him sketch anyways.
They still didn’t speak to one another, but during one lecture, Seat Thief flipped to a fresh page of paper, angled his book so that it was clearly visible to the row behind him, and wrote, What did the hippocampus say during his retirement speech?
One side of Bucky’s mouth quirked up when the answer was written underneath a few seconds later. Thanks for the memories.
Bucky snorted in half-laughter. It earned him a few looks from the people sitting beside him, and he had to fake a cough. Seat Thief had already turned back to his notes, and Bucky was certain he was wearing a grin, even though he couldn’t see it from behind.
It continued like this for weeks, Seat Thief writing terrible jokes that Bucky laughed at anyways. One time, he’d snickered loud enough for Dr. Cho to pause and ask if there was something the matter. It was embarrassing, and he tried to keep quiet after that.
As finals drew near, Bucky wished that the semester wasn’t ending yet. He hadn’t seen Seat Thief outside of Neuroscience, and it was unlikely they were going to end up in the same class again.
On the last day of class, Seat Thief took his time packing up his things instead of rushing out like he usually did. Bucky did everything in slow motion as well, taking out his phone and pretending to pause to check his messages while watching out the corner of his eye.
Seat Thief looked uncertain as he shifted his weight from one foot to another and looking at Bucky. “So, the final’s in a week,” he said.
“Right, the final,” Bucky replied.
“So, um, the last couple of chapters were pretty complex, so I was wondering if you wanted to go over some of the material.”
“Yes,” Bucky blurted quickly. “I mean, yeah, I guess,” he tried again, more coolly. “There’s a lot to remember.”
A girl who sat a few seats down from them overheard their conversation. “I know, right? There’s just so much information.” Ignoring the pointed looks from Bucky, she enthusiastically rambled on, “It’s such a great idea to get a study group together.”
“Uh,” Bucky hedged, not really wanting to admit that he just wanted to be alone with Seat Thief.
“Actually—” Seat Thief began, but he was interrupted.
“I bet there are quite a few people who would want to join in. I can already think of a few people off the top of my head that we could invite,” she continued.
Bucky and Seat Thief exchanged a look of resignation; this girl wasn’t going to let the idea go.
“Why don’t I get your contact info and we can set something up,” Seat Thief offered. He gave them a piece of paper torn out of his notebook. Bucky and the other girl scribbled down their email addresses. The girl left after that, rushing off to her next class and leaving the two of them.
Seat Thief’s eyes lit up curiously as he looked down at the piece of paper Bucky handed back to him. “Oh, your name is James,” he remarked with a delighted smile like he’d just discovered the answer to a question he’d been searching for.
“I go by Bucky, actually. Middle name,” he explained, fiddling with the pencil that he hadn’t given back yet.
Seat Thief nodded, grinning even wider. He extended his hand to Bucky. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Steve.”
Bucky mirrored Steve’s expression as he grasped the offered hand, reveling in the physical contact of such an innocent gesture. The handshake didn’t last long before Bucky became self-conscious and pulled back, hoping that his hands hadn’t felt too sweaty.
Steve seemed reluctant to leave, but he explained that he had to get to class. He was gone after a quick wave, and Bucky was left standing by himself in the empty lecture hall, still trying to process what just happened.
Taking a deep breath, Bucky whispered, “Steve,” to himself, just to hear how it sounded when he said it, and he found himself wanting to repeat it more and more.
By the time Bucky got home, Steve had already emailed to let him know when and where they would be meeting. It wasn’t exactly what Bucky had wanted, but he was willing to take whatever interactions he could get from Steve, even if it was in a group setting.
The next evening, he arrived at the prearranged study room in the basement of the library, and was surprised to find Steve sitting alone at the time. Bucky checked the time to make sure he wasn’t early, but found that he was on time. “Hi. Where is everyone?”
“I don’t know,” Steve said, not meeting Bucky’s eyes as he stared at a particularly interesting section of his notes. “They couldn’t make it.”
“So, it’s just the two of us?” Bucky asked evenly despite the screaming celebration of his internal dialogue.
“I guess so. That’s all right, isn’t it?” Steve asked hesitantly.
He dropped his backpack, not quite believing the fortunate turn of events. “It’s fine,” he said.
It was better than fine, actually.
They stayed late. It was a good thing that the library had extended their hours to accommodate the studying students because Bucky didn’t want to leave yet. He wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to leave.
They were reclining in their chairs, experiencing the crash from the sugar high from the study treats that Steve had brought. Apparently, his roommate was a stress baker, and Steve’s house was filled with more cupcakes and cookies than he knew what do with.
He and Steve had given up studying hours ago, even though their notes and textbooks were still open. They had spread out, sitting on the same side of the table, close enough that Bucky wanted to reach out to smooth back the piece of hair that had fallen out of place on Steve’s forehead.
Steve was unlike anyone Bucky had met before. He had a sarcastic sense of humor, as well as a vehement passion about everything, especially his art. Bucky kept glancing over, wondering if Steve was even remotely interested in him, but also refusing to make a move because… what if it was the wrong one? He mentally kicked himself for waiting so long before getting to know Steve. Now, it almost seemed too late. The school year was ending.
Finally, around 2 a.m., the intercom above them crackled as a voice announced that the library was closing. All the students being kicked out exited the library in a giant herd, and Steve and Bucky joined the crowd, shuffling towards the exit.
Bucky realized with a start that the girl to his left was the one from yesterday who’d wanted to form a study group.
“Hey!” she greeted in recognition. “I thought you guys were sick.”
Bucky cocked his head in confusion. “What?” he asked.
“You were sick so you missed out on the study group. Steve arranged for us to meet upstairs, but then he emailed and said you guys couldn’t come.” Her eyes darted suspiciously between the two of them.
Bucky looked at Steve in surprise, but his expression was guarded. He glanced back at the girl.
He eyes widened as she realized she’d revealed something she shouldn’t have. “Um, anyways, good night!” she said in farewell as she ran off catch up with the rest of the members of the study group.
Only Steve and Bucky were left on the front steps of the library building. Steve had his hands shoved into his pockets, looking down at the concrete.
Bucky’s sleep-deprived brain was still trying to catch up. “Did I hear her right?”
“Okay, fine! I did it!” Steve admitted, looking sullen at being caught. “I emailed you and told you to meet me in a different room.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Steve kicked a pebble at the ground, refusing to look up.
Bucky nearly cheered at the news. He’d been waiting for months to hear that. “Good,” he said lightly as he leaned forward and kissed Steve on those perfect lips like he’d been dreaming about all semester.
Steve was too shocked to react at first but soon opened his mouth.
Bucky tasted the sweetness of sugar and vanilla mixed with the remnant bitterness of coffee on his tongue. He pushed up on his feet because Steve was taller and grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him down closer. He could feel Steve’s hands hauling him closer and that satisfying pressure of another warm body pressed against his.
They were both breathing raggedly when they final broke apart. The night air cooled the flush of heat in Bucky. Neither of them said anything for several moments until Steve broke the silence.
“God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”
Bucky hummed in pleasure as Steve’s fingers absentmindedly stroked a sensitive spot on his jaw, underneath his ear. “Me too. You have no idea how distracting you were.”
“Me? I could barely concentrate in class knowing you were behind me the whole time. I’ll be lucky if I pass this class.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we’re studying together.”
“I don’t think I’m going get much studying done,” Steve teased, pulling back slightly after a moment. “I was going to kiss you first. I had it all planned out,”
“Yeah, well, you can take the lead next time,” Bucky promised, returning to Steve’s luscious, well-kissed mouth.
Two weeks later, while curled up in Steve’s bed, Bucky woke to see Steve already awake and reading his book. Final exams were finished (they both passed the Neuroscience class, thankfully), and they were celebrating by indulging in each other and sleeping in on this particular gray day.
Smiling sleepily, Bucky stared silently at Steve until he looked down and returned the smile.
“Why don’t you wear your glasses more often?” Bucky asked, voice still scratchy.
Steve shrugged. “I hate it when they slip down my face or when I forget they’re there.”
“I like the way you look on you. I like a man in glasses.”
“Oh? Maybe I should have started wearing them regularly years ago and maybe you would have noticed me sooner,” Steve teased.
“Are you kidding me? I noticed you the moment I saw you when you stole my seat in class.” Then, he added, “That was still a dick move.”
Steve gave a light chuckle as he leaned in for a quick kiss. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Rolling over fully and giving Steve his undivided attention, Bucky asked, “What? Did you steal my seat on purpose so that I would notice you?”
“No, I didn’t intentionally take your seat. I couldn’t find a good spot in that room so I changed every class. Then, I thought it was a stroke of good luck that you ended up sitting behind me so I stayed where I was.”
“So, what then?”
Steve ducked his head, looking at his book for a moment before returning Bucky’s gaze. “I noticed you two years ago.”
“Wait. What? Two years?” Bucky sat up fully. His hair was probably sticking up in all directions, but he hardly cared at the moment.
“You were outside the Students’ Union building, stopping some frat assholes from picking on the freshmen.”
“You’ve known me for two years and you didn’t say anything?” Bucky exclaimed.
“Technically, I didn’t really know you,” Steve corrected, setting the book aside and wrapping an arm around his boyfriend.
“Two years,” Bucky grumbled as he buried his face into Steve’s shoulder. After a few seconds, he turned his head. “Did you pine for me?”
“Hmmm.” Steve pretended to think about it. “A little bit.”
“Steve, I could have spent the last two years sucking your dick!” He would have reconsidered the petulant whine in his voice, but the situation called for it. To think that he missed out on two years.
“You can make it up to me,” Steve said indulgently, a smirk forming in the corners of his lips.
“Oh, believe me, I am about to,” he agreed as he shimmied down the bed, earning a laugh and a strangled groan from Steve.
Outside, it had started to rain. The wet drops splashed against the window, creating an irregular tapping rhythm. It reminded Bucky of the shitty day when he first saw Steve. Now, as he stared at Steve’s half-lidded eyes rolled back in pleasure and his lips parted in a slight-o, it flickered through the back of Bucky’s mind that whoever Murphy was, he and his law could stuff it.
Everything that could go right, will go right.