Chapter Text
Steve sighed as he leaned back against the tree. From here he had a great view of the campus, all classically inspired buildings and groups of people hanging out together and having fun. College was supposed to be different, but here he was, still alone.
He had tried too, which just somehow made it all worse. He had gone to school events, only to find himself ignored. He had gone to parties, only to make an awkward fool of himself and end up drinking in a corner alone. (Don’t tell people you just met about your dead mom, dumbass!) He had tried connecting with other people in his art classes, but his asthma attack the first week of classes had most of them treating him like patient zero in the zombie apocalypse.
College was supposed to be different, but so far the only difference was that instead of having to fight off bullies a couple of times a week, he was all but invisible. It was nice to not have to spend more than he had to spare each week on first aid supplies, but other than that it really didn’t feel like much of an improvement.
Still, at least he had plenty of time to draw, and excellent teachers, and his technique was showing definite improvement already. His current sketch was supposed to be an exercise in multiple vanishing points, but the full moon, hanging heavy and low in the sky, dominated the piece in a way that belied its size.
“That’s really very good.”
Steve whirled around, rising to a half-crouch at the voice that seemed to come out of nowhere. He didn’t have any good memories of people sneaking up on him, but there wasn’t anybody there that he could see. The only thing there was a small gray cat, nonchalantly licking it’s paw.
“I must be hearing things,” Steve muttered to himself. “Skipping lunch was a terrible idea.”
Besides, if he headed home now he had a chance of seeing Bucky near the engineering building. It wasn’t like he had Bucky’s schedule half memorized or anything. Not that Bucky had a clue who he was - there was no way he remembered helping tiny, awkward Steve pick up his art supplies after he managed to trip over his own feet and spill them everywhere the first week of classes. Just the memory of how he had blushed and stuttered and completely failed to pretend to be a functional human was enough to make him want to hide under his bed for the next ten years. But Bucky had been so warm and funny, and his eyes were so gorgeous and kind, and apparently that was all it took for Steve to imprint on him like a baby bird.
A baby bird might have a better chance of catching his attention. At least they managed to be cute despite being nothing but awkward skin and bones. Nobody had ever accused Steve of being cute before.
A noise from behind the library annex caught his attention, the familiar sound of fists on flesh and someone trying to muffle their grunts of pain. It was a sound Steve was all too familiar with, although he was usually the one trying not to make those noises.
Oh hell no. College was supposed to be different. Steve dropped his bag behind a shrub and ran back behind the library to enter the fray.
It was darker back behind the building than it should have been for that time of day, shadows thick and heavy. He could see two people, huge and somehow wrong, attacking a third, much smaller person.
“Hey!” he shouted. “Pick on someone your own size!” Which was probably not the smartest thing he had ever said since it became very clear as the two attackers turned around that their biceps alone were bigger than he was.
This was a terrible idea.
“Get out of here,” he called out to the other person as he braced himself. They wasted no time in following his advice, scrambling away as fast as possible now that they weren’t the focus of the two bullies.
As the two figures advanced on Steve, he became more and more convinced that there was something deeply wrong about them. The way they moved was too smooth and boneless, and their shapes were off somehow, like a drawing done by someone with no knowledge of anatomy. When they stepped into a small patch of dappled light, he was able to see just how off they really were.
“Oh fuck,” he breathed out as he took in the slitted eyes and rough, pebbled skin of his opponents. “I am so fucked.”
“Take this, Steve!” It was the same voice he had heard earlier, oddly accented, and he reached out instinctively to grab the small disc that was flying his way. It felt warm, and safe, and as he clasped his hand around it he could feel power flowing through him.
He could see the power flowing through him too, bright ribbons of light moving through and around him. Where they passed he felt stronger, faster, sharper, and as the light faded he could breathe clearly for what felt like the first time in his life. It was heady, and the rush of oxygen was almost enough to distract him from what had happened to his clothes.
“What the actual fuck,” he said conversationally as he took in his new outfit. Gone were his jeans, tattered shirt, and cardigan. Instead, he was able to see his belly button because his shirt had been replaced by something that might possibly have been considered a shirt if it didn’t have a v-neck that went all the way down to his waist, where the extremely short shorts started. Shorts, over tights , with boots straight out of an Errol Flynn movie.
“Now is not the time for distractions, Steve!” That voice again, coming from...on top of a dumpster? Where the cat was sitting. Of course it was. A talking cat, some sort of nightmarish burlesque outfit, and giant lizard monsters. This was fine. Everything was fine, clearly skipping lunch had been a bad idea and he had passed out from low blood sugar and this was all a really, really weird dream. It wasn’t even the strangest dream he had had lately, not like the recurring one that had been waking him up out of a dead sleep, sweating and shaking, that he could remember only glimpses of - glimpses of terrifying blue lights, a talking skull, and someone precious whose face he couldn’t see falling into an abyss.
“STEVE, DUCK!”
His body reacted before his mind had time to process the command, and he threw his left arm up to block the hit from one of the lizard-creatures, who was apparently no longer distracted by the impromptu light show and had gone ahead and attacked. The blow landed on the shield, and Steve was shocked to find that he had actually managed to stop it instead of being smashed flat.
He swung and caught the first creature across the jaw with the edge of his shield, then ducked under the claws of a second and hit that one with a right hook that experience had taught him was technically perfect, but wouldn’t have much of an effect.
Experience turned out to be wrong in this case as his fist connected and sent the second creature flying.
“Quick, while they’re down,” the cat said with a heavy accent, “Take the Vita Orbs around their necks and destroy them!”
He did as the cat said, because listening was somehow less weird than the alternative, yanking the faintly glowing orbs off the necks of the two lizard beasts and stomping them under his ridiculous boots. As soon as he did the two lizard-creatures shrank down, skin smoothing, revealing two perfectly ordinary rugby players instead of the horrifying monsters they had been just moments before.
“No, seriously, what the fuck?”
“Just leave them, they’ll wake up on their own in a couple of minutes, no worse for wear for their experience,” the cat responded.
Steve looked over at the cat, glanced down at the two former-lizard-creatures, and then pinched himself on the arm, hard. He forgot to account for his newfound strength, though, and it ended up hurting more than he had anticipated.
“This isn’t a dream, is it?” He sighed.
“It most certainly is not,” the cat said. “Please, transform back and I will explain everything back at your house.”
“And how, exactly, and I supposed to do that?” Steve asked. Talking back to a cat was somehow weirder than taking orders from one.
“Just concentrate, breathe deeply, will yourself back to your default state.”
He was going to miss breathing deeply, he thought as the shield shrank, his clothes reformed into something he wouldn’t be embarrassed to have his mother see him in, and his boots returned to their normal, non-pirate state.
Lizard monsters, talking cats, no Bucky, and he still hadn’t gotten anything to eat. This was turning out to be the worst day ever.
“And so you see that you are the reincarnation of the Guardian of the Golden Marvel Kingdom, Nomad!” the cat, Erskine, concluded with a dramatic flourish of one paw. Honestly, Steve probably should have been paying more attention to the talking cat who had just helped him fight rugby lizard monsters , but the strength and ability to breathe hadn’t faded when he transformed back, which was more than slightly distracting. The shield had shrunk to a tiny medallion that he was now wearing as a pendant around his neck.
Even more of a distraction was the fact that apparently his transformation had fixed his colorblindness as well, and new colors and hues in all their intensities were breathtakingly incredible. It hadn’t been as obvious in the dappled shadows where he had fought, but he had tripped over his own feet more than once on his way back home, entirely enchanted by the vibrant interplay of newly visible colors.
Between the colors, and being able to breathe clearly, and the fact that for the first time in his life absolutely nothing hurt, even stories of mythological moon kingdoms and evil forces were a secondary concern at best.
“Steven! It is very important that you pay attention!” Erskine’s tail twitched in irritation. “The forces of Hydra are already at work on some nefarious scheme. If you don’t stop them they’ll take over the world and start a new Age of Terror!”
“I just…” Steve sighed. “I don’t understand why you’d pick me for this, or how I’m supposed to find these other warriors, or how those rugby players turned into giant lizard monsters. For that matter, why do you need me to find the other warriors? Can’t you just find them like you found me?”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, Steven. I cannot sense their energy until I feel it interacting with yours.”
“I still think you’ve made some kind of mistake.”
Erskine walked closer to Steve and put one paw up to his face. “Steven, there is no mistake. Your heart that will see you through, trust in that. You’re a good man with a good heart, and that will lead you to victory. Just keep your shield on you at all times. I haven’t been able to discover Hydra’s plans yet so you must remain aware!”
Steve kept his shield with him and his eyes open, but for the next couple of weeks absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happened. His art professors were delighted with his newfound skill with color, and he still forgot to eat, failed to make any friends, and pined over Bucky from a distance.
He still had that dream, too, the one where he felt the weight of a warm hand on his shoulder or a comforting presence at his side, until it was taken away from him by fire and ice, one more absence that haunted his nights.
Today Bucky was playing frisbee on the quad with some of his friends, laughing and smiling and looking absolutely breathtaking with his face sheened with sweat and his hair falling out of a ponytail. Steve was caught up in yet another sketch of him, trying to catch the way he moved on paper when someone sat down next to him, taking him by surprise.
“Wow,” she said. “You’ve got it bad.”
Steve could feel himself turning red all the way to his toes. “I’m not...I mean...I don’t...just-”
She laughed. “Don’t even worry about it, he’s certainly pretty enough,” she said as she stuck out one hand. “I’m Natasha, from your Lit class. Steve, right?”
“Yes,” Steve said as he shook her hand gingerly. She was gorgeous, and he couldn’t help but think that she had some ulterior motive for talking to him. It wasn’t like his time was in much demand by anybody who wasn’t either grading him or wanting him to fight off mystical enemies.
“Look, let me be straight,” she continued with a flick of her red hair. “We’ve been in class together for more than a month, and you haven’t spent hours staring at my boobs like basically every other asshole I’ve met on this campus. That means you’re either gay or otherwise not into objectifying random women, so-”
“I’m bi, actually,” Steve said. This might be the most surreal conversation he had ever had, even including the one about how he was actually a reincarnated moon guardian.
“Whatever,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve decided we should be friends.”
“Just like that?”
Natasha nodded. “Just like that. I have a good feeling about you, Steve.”
Steve wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t some kind prank, but despite that he had a good feeling about her too. He felt warm as he met her eyes and smiled.
Colors were the worst.
Steve’s first forays into adding color into his art had been fairly easy, using a single shade against the monochrome to draw the eye, but multiple colors? Trying to use multiple colors was like learning to draw all over again. His highlights were wrong, the textures were all over the place, and layering colors wasn’t working at all the way it should.
This was supposed to be a simple nature study, but it looked like a toddler had colored over his sketch with crayons. It was a disaster, hours of work utterly wasted, and now he was going to have to start over from scratch so he’d have a piece he could actually turn in.
This was the worst day.
Thinking this was a mistake, as it apparently invited misfortune. There was a group of students walking along the sidewalk nearby, laughing and joking as they passed. One shoved a second, who lost her balance, stumbled, and tripped over Steve’s pencils, scattering them everywhere.
“Sorry, bro!” she said as her friend grabbed her arm and hauled her away. They were both still laughing. Steve knew they weren’t laughing at him (probably), but knowing that didn’t make him feel any better.
His limbs felt heavy, weighed down by the air and existential despair as he slowly started gathering his pencils one by one. He wasn’t really paying attention, so it caught him off guard when another hand beat him to one of his pencils.
“Here,” said a familiar (lovely, perfect) voice.
Steve looked up to meet Bucky’s blue, blue eyes, so close that Steve could make out the darker ring on the outside of his iris. He let out a squeak in response that might have been embarrassing if Steve hadn’t been so completely overwhelmed. He reached his hand out slowly to take the pencil, fingers brushing against Bucky’s.
“Th--thank you,” Steve stuttered out.
The red flush that bloomed across Bucky’s cheeks must be from the wind. “It’s no problem at all, seems to happen to you a lot,” Bucky said, grabbing a couple more pencils that were out of Steve’s reach and settling onto the ground next to him. Bucky gestured at Steve’s sketchbook. “May I?”
Steve just stared for a second until the words penetrated. He thought he could feel his fingers still tingling where they had touched Bucky’s skin. “Oh, um, sure.”
Bucky wasted no time, picking up the sketchbook and flipping through it. “Wow! These are -- wow, you’re really talented. I mean, I’ve seen you around and you always seem to be drawing something so you must have worked really hard to be this good, but...wow.” He laughed a little. “I swear I’m usually more articulate than this.”
The strangled sound Steve made in response would probably bother him later when he mentally replayed this, but at the moment he felt as if he had been bodily transported to the heavens. It wasn’t much of a stretch, not with a literal angel sitting next to him.
“Oh!” Bucky jumped. “I’m Bucky. Bucky Barnes, nice to meet you,” he said as he stuck out one hand.
“Steve Rogers,” he said, instead of ‘I know,’ because that would be creepy. He was still holding Bucky’s hand - not shaking any more, just...holding. That was probably also creepy, but Bucky didn’t seem to be making any move to let go either. “I’m an art major, but you probably already figured that out.”
“Yea, the sketchbook was kind of a clue,” Bucky said with a laugh, finally taking his hand back so he could turn another page. “I’m in comp-sci, which they don’t tell you is mostly cursing about semicolons.” Steve laughed on cue. “But seriously, your art is incredible. It looks like the leaves on this tree are just waiting for a breeze to start rustling.”
“Thank you, really. I used to get sick a lot, so I spent a lot of time in bed, and you can only watch TV for so long until you lose your mind. So I had a lot of time to draw,” Steve said, words tripping over each other.
Bucky’s fingers lingered on a quick sketch of Natasha, laughing as she prepared to throw a french fry at someone off the page. “I’ve seen you with, um, I mean...Is she your girlfriend?”
“Nat?” Steve asked with surprise. “No, Nat’s just a friend. I’m single.”
“Oh,” Bucky said with a soft smile. “Good. I mean...not good, but...me too, you know?” Bucky’s cheeks were definitely looking red. “Do you draw people a lot?”
Steve shook his head. “I do some figure drawing in class, and quick drawings of people I see around campus, and Nat’s let me sketch her a couple of times, but I really need a model for a detailed study, and I don’t exactly have people knocking down my door to sit still while I stare at them for hours, you know?”
“I’d do it.”
“What?” Steve was pretty sure he was experiencing auditory hallucinations.
“I’d be willing to model for you sometime. I mean, if you’d be interested,” Bucky said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know I’m not much to look at, but --”
“YES.” Steve said in a rush. “That would be amazing.”
“Good,” Bucky said with a small smile.
“Good,” Steve echoed, still not convinced that this was actually happening.
“So I’ll, uh, see you around,” Bucky said hopefully as he took a step back. “Just let me know when you want me, okay?”
Steve could only nod, as he had apparently managed to swallow his tongue somewhere along the way. He stood and watched until Bucky turned the corner and was lost from view behind the administration building.
This was the best day.