Work Text:
Steve checked his watch for the eighth time as his shift neared the end. His work study in the library was pretty nice. He didn't have rude customers, only fellow stressed college kids. He didn't have to worry about serving food or spilling food as he most likely would considering how clumsy he could be. He didn't have to help in a lab where he could ruin someone's important science experiment. The library was quiet and peaceful. But it was so damn boring.
With a dramatic huff that earned a look from Scott, an engineering major who always sat at the table across from Steve's desk and looked like he had three too many Red Bulls, Steve pushed himself from his chair to start collecting books people left out for cataloging.
Tony, an aerospace engineering major judging by the textbook he had under his arm, saw Steve's rounds and helped him gather things from a nearby table. "Fury's slackers were in here again." Tony dropped off a stack of reference books at the desk. "Looks like they waited until the last minute to research... a shit ton of treaties. Versailles, Paris, Sokovia, Ghent. Yawn."
Steve covered his laugh, both because he worked in a library so it was a habit and because he didn't want to give Tony the satisfaction of making him laugh. "They stress me out every time they come in here. I watched one of them drink three 5 Hour Energies and a Frappuccino, and practically inhaled a bag of Skittles while he sat there. I'm pretty sure he was vibrating at one point."
"Dear God." He rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm heading out. I've got a chapter to read by tomorrow morning."
"You haven't started yet." It wasn't even a question. Tony could breeze through almost all his homework in no time. One time Tony went on one of his tangents about a sculpture Steve mentioned the day before. When Steve jokingly asked him when he became an expert in Postmodernism, he told him last night.
"Of course not. I'll see you in Coulson's tomorrow." They shared their required English composition class, which is one of the only classes the aerospace engineering major and art major have in common.
"See you later," Steve called, already turning to catalog the stack of books in front of him. After this, he could make it back to his dorm, hopefully before Clint started snoring.
Steve was in a nice rhythm sorting the books, but he stopped when a thin black book interrupted the pattern he'd started. There was no title or author on the cover and no bar code either. He felt stupid when he opened the book, only to realize it was a journal of some sort. Whoever it belonged to must have left it, and Steve picked it up by mistake. He put it in a drawer, hoping the owner would come back for it soon.
By the end of his shift, the journal remained unclaimed in the drawer. There wasn't anything he could do about it now, so Steve left. If they really wanted their book, they'd be back at some point. Steve just really needed some sleep.
☆
After three days with the journal left unclaimed, Steve's curiosity won out. He finally opened the book to see if he could figure out who it belonged to. He didn't want to read the entries; he only wanted to skim to find names or other identifying information.
He checked to make sure no one was watching and read the first page. It only had a few scribbled notes, so it felt safe to read them.
107
Call mom before she kills you
A32557, which must be their student ID, Steve thought.
He tried to search the number in the library system, but whoever this was must have never checked out a book.
Steve flipped through a few more pages, not reading anything until he got to a schedule. This journal seemed to be actual entries with random thoughts thrown in like a diary/ agenda/ memo book combo. Everything that came to this guy's mind was written down. Steve decided this was a guy because their handwriting just gave off that vibe. It looked like it belonged to a train wreck of a guy, but a guy nonetheless.
I have psych with him, Steve thought. Oh, but there's like over a hundred people in that class. It's not like I can ask every person if they've lost a diary recently.
And other than psychology, he didn't share any other class with Mystery Guy.
Steve had the urge to keep reading, to find more information or at least one name to track Mystery Guy down. He put the journal back into the drawer. He wouldn't invade MG's privacy like that. Besides, Steve wasn't even that interested in who the book belonged to.
☆
An hour later, Steve took the journal out of the drawer again.
He flipped open to the first page that seemed to be more than a few random thoughts that were thrown onto the paper.
It's been a week and I already want to strangle Sam. Mom said find someone new to room with. It'll be fun to live with someone you didn't grow up with. They'll bring you out of your shell. Well thanks Mom. My roommate's a whack job. Maybe I can find him a partner so he can sleep at their place and I never have to see him again. Or maybe I'll smother him while he sleeps.
The next few pages were all about MG's roommate Sam and the annoying things he's done since school started. Apparently, Sam wakes MG up every morning at four thirty when he gets up to run. He takes so damn long to take a shower. And he asked MG if it was alright if he brought a pet parakeet home.
Steve was laughing by the time he made it to the end of the entries that were signed at the bottom with a messy signature. All Steve could make out was the B at the beginning.
"I mean, how many people in psych could have a name that starts with B?" Steve mumbled to himself. After reading through the required introductions posted on Professor Romanov's class discussion board, he learned there were a lot of guys whose name started with B. Three of which were all named Brady.
That night, Steve took the journal back to his dorm, determined to learn who MG was. He wrote about a few people, but Steve didn't recognize any of the names.
Steve learned that MG thought his trigonometry class was overrated but loved his science classes. This is the future, he kept writing. These people are going to lead us into a better age. Flying cars and green energy and the cure to cancer. Steve smiled every time MG talked about his science classes. He was so excited, and Steve could feel his happiness from the pages. He learned that MG was talking Russian as a foreign language because why the fuck not? He liked to buy fresh fruit from the farmers market every Sunday morning, and he called his parents every Sunday night.
The more Steve read about MG, the more he liked him. By the time MG's black pen ran out of ink and was replaced by a green one, Steve felt like he'd known this guy forever. And he had to admit that he was developing a little crush on him, the same way you read a book and fell a bit for the characters. Except this person wasn't fictional. And Steve could meet him if he ever learned who he was.
Steve was about three-fourths of the way through the book when he made it to an entry that made his heart skip a beat.
Why can't I just talk to him? Sam keeps making fun of me because I keep making up excuses, but T'Challa is on my side. He says I need to take my time, but I am being stupid. I don't even know his name because I get so nervous around him. He doesn't know I exist, but being in that lecture hall with him makes me so happy and jumpy and nervous. Which I already said. But Sam is laughing at me again because I sat in the row behind him but couldn't talk to him. Ugh! Why can't I just talk to him? I let him leave again without saying anything to him. All I could do all class was watch him draw during lecture. T'Challa had to let me see his notes because I was so focused on watching this guy draw the girl sleeping a few rows down that every word Prof Romanov said completely went over my head.
Steve dropped the journal onto his bed and found the sketchbook he was drawing in that day. He knew exactly what MG was talking about.
He was talking about him. And there it was: the picture of the girl sleeping that he drew out of boredom one day in psych.
MG was sitting right behind him just two weeks before, wanting so bad to talk to him. Now Steve was the one wanting to reach out to MG, but he didn't even know who he was. He was even more determined and even more desperate to find him.
So he kept reading.
After that entry, Steve realized how many times MG talked about this guy he seemed to have feelings for. He could remember past entries where he would talk about his hair or his smiles or God his shoulders or the sketchbooks he always carried. And the more he read, the more certain Steve was that MG's crush was him. And then he reached a recent entry where MG said he talked to this crush of his.
Sam finally talked me into sitting with him in psych. Or I guess I sat by him. I didn't really talk to him before so I kinda just sat next to him like a weirdo. I really, really hope he didn't have a friend in that class that sat where I did. And it's not like we even talked until class was over. I wanted to tell him that I thought he was a great artist, at least from the sketches I've seen. But I thought that would come off kinda weird. Because, you know, he doesn't know I've been watching him draw in class. And I kinda wanted to ask him out, but I wasn't sure how that would go. I mean, I didn't even know his name at that point, and I definitely wasn't lucky enough for him to be interested in me in any way. But I did introduce myself, and I finally learned his name is Steve. So progress, I guess.
Steve covered his eyes with his hands, so frustrated with himself. MG talked to him, introduced himself, but Steve couldn't remember it. He tried and tried, but all he could remember from that day was having an idea for a new painting. What did that say about MG? Was he not noticeable? Did he say something so normal that Steve forgot about the conversation right after it happened? Was there something else on his mind so this guy was pushed out of his memory? MG had been working up to talking to Steve who couldn't remember that conversation or his name. What did that say about Steve?
After beating himself up, Steve skipped the next couple entries, finally getting to the last used page. This would've been the day MG left his book on the library or the closest he could get to it.
There wasn't much on the page, just a few lines when MG realized Steve worked at the library.
Shit. Of course the one day I come to the library I run into Steve. Dammit Tony, this is why you told me to come here today. Better place to study than my dorm, my ass. But I can't even be mad because he looks so cute in that Christmas sweater. Who even wears Christmas sweaters before December? He just looked over here and smiled at me, so now Tony is laughing. I need to calm down and read this book. I should be able to read this one book. But I can't think so there's no way I'm getting this paper done.
Closing the journal with a feeling like he'd been punched in the gut, Steve fell onto his bed. MG had been with Tony that day. He talked to him before Tony helped him pick up some of the books laying out; he could remember that now. MG was the guy who had the half sleeve of colorful tattoos that Steve couldn't stop staring at. He was trying to look at all of them, but he was sitting too far away. When he came up to the desk to drop off his books, he told Steve that he liked his sweater. The same dumb Christmas sweater he wore because Clint bet him he wouldn't. Steve had laughed and told the guy that he liked his hair, that long dark hair pulled into a small, messy bun. The guy blushed before dropping off his books.
Steve sat up, realizing something. MG had mentioned having one book, but he definitely returned two. He must have been so nervous that he put his journal into the return bin too.
He grabbed his phone, texting Tony to ask him who MG really was.
Anthony I have a serious question
never call me anthony again
what is it
You know that guy you came with to the library about a week ago??
Dark hair?? Tattoos?? Pretty blue eyes???
I need to know his name
never thought youd ask
☆
Steve's leg bounced up and down while he waited for psych to let out. He'd already found the man he was looking for, and he kept his eyes on him so he wouldn't get lost in the crowd leaving the lecture hall. When class was dismissed, he weaved through everyone to catch up to the former Mystery Guy.
"James, wait up."
James turned around, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Steve, uh, hi."
"This is weird but..." He handed the brunet the journal, not meeting his eyes. "You kinda left it in the library. Sorry it took so long to find you."
James looked pretty stunned. "How did you know it was mine?"
Steve hadn't thought up a good excuse. Honestly, it didn't occur to him that James would ask that. "Uh, your schedule was on one of the front pages. I remembered you coming in to find a book for your freshman seminar. And I'm friends with Tony."
James nodded but didn't look like he quite believed him. "Well, thanks. You really didn't have to go through all this trouble. I could've started a new book." He looked down at the practically full journal. "I'm going to need to soon."
"I wanted to." Steve bit his lip. "And I wanted to talk to you, and, uh- Are you free around five?" Steve knew James didn't have a class then, but his personal plans were a complete mystery.
"I should be."
"James, would you like to have dinner tonight? Maybe as a date?"
James blinked a few times as he tried to process the question. When it all clicked, he smiled, nodding excitedly. "Yes, yeah." He cleared his throat. "I would."
"Great." Steve pointed to James' notebook. "I wrote my number on the last page. I've got to run, but text me and we'll figure out plans."
James looked breathless. "Okay, thanks."
"See you tonight."
"See you tonight." Steve made it a few feet when James called his name. "And Steve?" He turned around, and seeing Steve like that made James falter. With the sun shining on him like that and people moving around him, he looked like he was pulled straight from a romance movie. It was that soft smile that grounded James back to reality. "Call me Bucky."