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At Waterloo, Napoleon did surrender, and I have met my destiny in quite a similar way, always repeating itself.
I was defeated, you won the war. Promise to love you forevermore. Couldn't escape if I wanted to, knowing my fate is to be with you.
“Do you have some sort of… Napoleon complex, or something?”
Steve glanced up from his desk to see the boy standing before him, arms crossed on his chest. The fuming boy, who had a red t-shirt with a gold chain around his neck, made a face and repeated himself.
“I said, are you insecure about your height and you’re taking it out on the rest of us?”
Steve blinked at the student, the scruffy kid couldn’t have been older than nineteen, with jet black hair and permanently rolled eyes. Steve was about to stand up and simply wait for the boy to put two and two together. Maybe the kid couldn’t see Steve’s real torso under his burgundy sweater. He hadn’t stood up in the first class, so maybe it could be assumed that he wasn’t 6’2. He moved his Converse covered feet under him and put his hand on the desk to haul himself up, and was about to tower over the student, when a voice perked up from the back of the classroom.
“Maybe you’re projecting, ‘cause Teach is kind of Major-sized.”
Steve hadn’t even known there was anyone left in the hall. He scanned the auditorium until he saw him, the eldest of the class, James Barnes. He was a veteran who came back to his old home town to learn something. NYU had taken him in on scholarship so he had to be smart. Steve only knew his story because he’d never had someone older than him in his class. Granted, James only had one year on him, but Steve still sweated a little more in his presence. He pushed up the nose of his gold wire glasses and straightened the striped tie that disappeared under his sweater.
“What did you just say to me?!” The kid whirled on James, and while he stood there bawking, Steve removed his sweater, leaving on his white t-shirt underneath, though he rolled up the sleeves. His tie was wrapped around in his collar, and he flattened it once more as he lifted himself out of his chair. He felt his blond hair flop against his forehead, and he made eye contact with James as he stepped up behind the kid.
Blue irises went wide as they scanned down Steve’s body, and the boy, who Steve swore was named Anthony, turned to see what James was looking at. When he saw Steve standing in front of him, he slapped a hand over his mouth and stuttered out an apology.
“Shit- I mean, uh, I am so sorry Mr. Rogers. I didn’t mean to be offensive, I just… I wasn't expecting a C- on my first assignment.”
Steve crossed his arms softly and smiled at Tony. “The assignment, Mr. Stark, was to answer the prompt I gave you. The prompt you were given was ‘what was the Battle of Waterloo about?’ and you wrote about the song.” James, who was still sitting in the back of the room, was grinning from ear to ear, stifling a laugh with his metal arm. Another part of his story that Steve had heard rumors about from the other teachers.
“Sorry, sir.”
“Don’t be, it’s a good song, I love ABBA, but please put some actual information in there too. If you can turn it in tomorrow, I’ll give you the full credit.”
Tony’s eyes grew big and he reached out a hand to Steve, who took it and shook. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” And with that, he was rushing off, out of the classroom and into the hallway.
With him gone, Steve returned to his desk and grabbed his computer bag, shoving the strap over his shoulder. With all his belongings, he turned to the corner where James was sitting. “I gotta lock up, if you wouldn’t mind, sir.”
James made a face as he shouldered his backpack. “Call me, Bucky, and if I could just say, Mr. Rogers, that was the best thing I’ve ever witnessed.”
“Only if you call me Steve, and thank you, I think? He said Napoleon Complex and I began thinking of my younger years when I didn’t look like… this.” He gestured to himself with a smirk and Bucky was passing him by, heading toward the door as he did. Bucky held out a hand and slapped Steve’s shoulder with a smile.
“Somehow I can’t imagine you as a child. Maybe it’s because all I can seem to do is imagine you with no clothes on.”
“Y’know I’m your teacher right?” Steve answered back, trying to hide how he was turning the same color as his sweater, and Bucky just winked at him.
“People say I like to tango with danger. Though, last time I did that, I lost an arm.” Bucky gestured to the metal creeping up his limb, and Steve’s eyes dropped to it, even though he knew that was impolite.
“If it’s any consolation, I think it looks fucking sick. But, the journey to getting it was probably lackluster.”
“You can say that again. Speaking of, Teach, what was the journey to you?” His finger floated down Steve’s body, outlining his shape in the air. Steve was probably bright red, but he tried not to stand like that one emoji (🧍♂️) as Bucky drew from his head to his feet.
“My mom passed and I had an unhealthy relationship with the gym. I only left my house to go to the gym for three months, before my best friend showed up and dragged my ass kicking and screaming to Teachers University.” He ushered with his hands around them, to the walls that made up the history classroom in NYU. “Now I’m here, teaching trust-fund babies and gentlemen like yourself.” He flashed a smile and Bucky’s ears got maybe slightly pinker around the edges.
“I’m sorry about your mom.” Bucky whispered, but Steve was alright with it now, he lived every day trying to make her proud. Which, speaking of…
“Do you wanna grab a coffee sometime or-?” He was halfway through that beautiful attempt at human conversation when Bucky stepped forward, planted a hand on his chin and pulled him down just a bit so that their mouths landed together.
And Steve- Steve’s mind was reduced to images of HR and the warnings against starting relationships with students, but Bucky was whimpering against his mouth and begging for more and he couldn’t help himself,
Steve Rogers never half-assed anything.
So he let Bucky slip into his mouth, and he kissed him back with the sloppiness of singleness, and he let Bucky take everything he had to give.
Bucky let Steve take too, and they were there for a few seconds before Bucky pulled back, smiled, and then pressed another quick peck to Steve’s mouth.
Then with grins and blushed cheeks, he was gone, and Steve didn’t turn back to his normal color until that evening when he received a text from Anthony with the completed assignment.
The first sentence?
“My, my at Waterloo, Napoleon did surrender.”
I tried to hold you back, but you were stronger, and now it seems my only chance is giving up the fight.
And how could I ever refuse? I feel like I win when I lose.