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Steve has pages and pages in his sketches books dedicated to eyes. Has ever since they were kids. During the war, the eyes he drew the most were Howard Stark’s. In the future, Steve has moved on to Howard’s son.
Bucky doesn’t really get the fascination. Eyes are eyes. They’re useful, certainly. They’re some of the best telling signs on a liar. Sure, there are some people who are flawless in that art, but it’s nice to be able to immediately distrust the guy who can’t quite look at you verses the one who meets your gaze head on and with his chin held high. Eyes are almost as good as a pointed finger for indicating to someone else to check something out. Just a meaningful glance, a dart to the side, and then back. Simple.
Steve says eyes are full of expressions, that you can read just about anything about a person by looking into them, that they’re a place you can get lost and never want to find your way out of. Steve’s always been the more sentimental of the two of them.
But then again, lying in bed, red hair spilled over the pillows and Natasha’s serene, crystal-blue gaze locked onto his, Steve might be onto something.