Of Libraries, Sketches, and Misunderstandings

Author's Note: Hey guys! So I sent out a request on Tumblr for Stucky drabble prompts in exchange for followers because I was almost at 400 (which I have surpassed now woop woop!) and I got a lovely prompt from user sheilded-hearts asking for a modern college AU with pre-serum Steve and post-WS Bucky. What I intended to be around a couple hundred words ended up being around 1800 so I thought I'd post it! Hope you like it and be sure to let me know what you think in the comments :)

Steve huffed a frustrated sigh as he stared at his laptop, and the blank page currently on the screen (he could have sworn that that stupid blinking cursor was mocking him). As much as he desperately wished the contrary, this art history essay just wasn't going to write itself. So, with one last longing glance at the red "exit" sign of the MCU campus library, Steve resigned himself to his fate and started to type. However, before he could even get to his thesis statement, a light shone in his eyes. He squinted, disoriented, but just as suddenly as it appeared it was gone again. Shrugging it off, Steve pushed his large glasses up and got back to work, but a moment later the same light was back again. Steve shielded his eyes against the harsh glare and moved his chair over a little, looking around for the source of the offending light. Expecting it to be some jerk with a mirror (because for reasons that were most likely related to his small stature and too-thin frame, Steve had become the new favourite pastime of campus jerks), Steve was surprised to realize that the culprit was actually not a mirror or a phone screen, but... an arm?

Steve peered further around where he was sitting (one of the many solitary study desks lining the wall), and regarded the boy sitting alone at one of the group study tables, relatively close to where Steve's desk was. The table was also placed near a large window, where the afternoon sun was currently streaming in and reflecting - bizarrely enough - off of what appeared to be the boy's metal left arm.

Steve was immediately captivated by the boy's unique prosthetic, left unhidden by a black t-shirt (displaying the name of some band Steve had never heard of). It appeared to be constructed in a series of platelets, fitting together in such a way that seemed to allow movement more freely. It's aesthetic qualities were also interesting, the prosthetic shape resembling that of a flesh-and-blood arm. Were it not for the metallic sheen and the gunmetal grey, one could very easily mistake it for the real thing.

Before he'd even fully realized what he was doing, Steve had pulled his sketchbook out of his bag and had already begun to draw.

Bucky allowed himself a small growl at the back of his throat when he noticed the same scrawny kid was still staring at him - or, more specifically, his arm. At first, Bucky didn't think much of it, but the guy wasn't exactly being subtle about his gawking. Sure, you don't see a guy with a metal arm walking around everywhere you go (he was lucky enough to be a test subject for the advanced mechanics team at MCU), but Jesus Christ he wasn't some tourist attraction. Most people never said anything to his face (he tended to intimidate most people with his long hair, ripped jeans, and more-often-than-not murderous expression), but that didn't mean he was oblivious to the staring and the whispers. Most of the time, he let it roll off his back, but sometimes it just got under his skin.

And the skinny kid with the glasses definitely fell under the latter category.

Bucky tried to keep his attention fixed on his law textbook, tried to remind himself that passing his midterm was more important than some nosy dickhead, but after a few minutes of the same thing, he had had enough. He snapped his textbook shut, shoving it angrily in his backpack before slinging the bag over his shoulder and stalking over to where the blonde boy was sitting.

Steve began shading in the bicep of the boy's curious arm, continuing to be fascinated by it's shape and movement. He looked up - planning on getting more detail of the elbow - and was shocked to see the boy in question standing directly in front of him, looking none too pleased. Steve let out an embarrassing squeak and in a mad dash to close or at least cover up his sketchbook, somehow managed to fall out of his chair in the process. He landed on the hard floor with a muttered "oof'. He shut his eyes for a second, because surely this was a dream, surely he wasn't this unlucky. He slowly opened his eyes, and looked up. The boy was still there. Up close, Steve couldn't help but notice that he was rather attractive, with hypnotic blue eyes and full pink lips.

Although, Steve thought to himself, he'd be more attractive if he didn't look like he wanted to murder Steve right about now.

"Why don't you just take a goddamn picture, it'll last longer," the boy said in hushed angry tones (they were in a library after all), gesturing to his metal arm and not making a move to help Steve up.

"Wh-what?" Steve replied stupidly, mind still reeling from the unexpected situation he had suddenly found himself in. He got to his feet, picking up the various items that had gone down with him, including his sketchbook (the contents of which seemingly remained unseen).

The boy rolled his eyes, "The fuckin' staring! Did you think I wouldn't notice? Subtlety is not your middle name, pal."

"I wasn't- I, uh, I mean, I guess I was, but-"

"Whatever, man. Nothing I haven't experienced before," the boy said in an undecipherable tone, but Steve thought he detected a hint of sadness in those blue eyes.

The boy turned to leave and, surprising the boy and even more so himself, Steve grabbed for his shoulder and turned him back around (and Steve is sure he was only able to do so because he'd caught him off guard). The boy raised his eyebrows and Steve swallowed nervously. However, for reasons unknown to him, he just couldn't let this boy leave thinking that Steve thought he was some kind of freak. Steve knew what that was like - he wasn't a stranger to how cruel people, especially students, could be.

"Sorry, it's just… I was bored and then I saw your arm and I just… well, I thought it was um, well, cool? Amazing, really."

The boy cocked his head to the side. The hints of malice slid from his face, replaced instead with a look of genuine surprise. He stayed silent so Steve kept on talking.

"This is why I was staring," Steve said, hesitantly flipping open his sketchbook to the doodles of the metal arm and thrusting it at the boy. He kept his eyes downcast, fearful of the boy's reaction. "I'm really, really sorry. Sometimes when I get inspired, I forget that I have no right to draw someone - or, uh, parts of someone - without their permission."

"My arm inspired you?" the boy asked incredulously.

"Well, yeah. It's fascinating! Er, I mean-"

"These are really good," the boy said, thankfully stopping Steve's rambling in it's tracks.

"You… You think so?" Steve replied, finally daring to look up. He felt a fluttering sensation in his stomach as he saw the soft smile, there but barely, on the boy's face.

"Yeah," the boy said with conviction. He paused, suddenly looking awkward. "Look… about what I said before…"

"Oh, it's fine."

"No, it's not. You didn't deserve that. It's just, not really used to being someone's muse, ya know?" the boy replied, letting out a nervous chuckle. Steve laughed.

"Fair enough. I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers," Steve said holding out his hand.

"James Barnes. Call me Bucky," Bucky said, shaking the proffered hand. Steve tilted his head, grinning a little.

"How do you get Bucky from James, just out of curiosity?"

"My middle name's Buchanan," Bucky said with a grimace. Steve chuckled.

"Ouch," he said in sympathy. Bucky huffed a small laugh.

"You're tellin' me."

The two boys grinned at each other, before simultaneously realizing their hands were still connected. They laughed a little again, this time more awkwardly, and released their grips. Bucky handed Steve back his sketchbook. A brief silence ensued, Steve trying and failing to think of something even remotely interesting, something that might get Bucky to stay a little longer.

"Well, I guess I better get goin'," Bucky suddenly said, and Steve tried not to let his disappointment show on his face.

"Oh, okay. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, maybe. It was real nice meeting you, Steve."

"You too, Bucky."

With that, Bucky gave a small wave and started to walk away. Steve sat back down with a sigh, mind whirring with indecision.

As Bucky made his way down the library corridor, words like "amazing" and "inspired" and "fascinating" kept replaying in his head in Steve's surprisingly deep voice. He had to admit, he think he might feel something for the little punk. There was just something about him, some kind of inherent good-ness, that intrigued him. Once the initial anger ebbed away, Bucky finally started to notice, really notice, Steve. The slightly disheveled blonde hair, the sparkling blue eyes, the glasses that were just a bit too big for his face, and his slender artist's hands. There was something about the thought of Steve's hands that made Bucky shiver. After all, it was Steve's hand that could take a hunk of metal and turn it into something beautiful. And it was also Steve's hand that looked and felt pretty damn good holding Bucky's. Then again, maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

Bucky wasn't even halfway down the hall before he suddenly heard his name being called. Bucky spun around and tried to tame his suddenly uncontrollable smile upon seeing Steve walking up to him, paying no attention to the few violently whispered shh's that he received upon his sudden outburst in the library.

"Long time, no see," Bucky said jokingly. Steve laughed quietly and rubbed the back of his neck in a nervous fashion. He then took a deep breath, rushing through what he had to say next.

"I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to get a coffee sometime? With me?"

Bucky gave up on taming his smile, "You askin' me out on a date, Rogers?"

Steve flushed red as he started to ramble, "Sorry, it was stupid, I'm really sorry, I just thought maybe- sorry I'll just go, I-"

"Steve!" Bucky interrupted with a laugh, clapping a hand on Steve's shoulder. "I didn't say no, punk."

Steve's look of embarrassment suddenly vanished, and it was replaced by a grin and a look of determination (though the blush remained).

"Then say yes, jerk."

"Alright, alright, you wore me down. Yes," Bucky said, before writing his cell number on Steve's hand.

And as Bucky looked at Steve, and Steve at him, he thought that at this rate, this dopey smile might never leave his face again. Although, luckily for him, it looked like Steve was having the exact same problem.

Author's Note: Well there ya have it! Apologies for the lack of smooches but I just loved the first cute meeting idea and I didn't wanna get into what came after too much :) Thanks for reading and feel free to lemme know what you think :D ((Btw I have no idea if that whole "Bucky's arm reflecting the light" thing would actually happen, but for the sake of the plot let's pretend it would haha))