#darcysteve

"I can’t," she said, not getting why Jane didn’t see the issue at hand. "I’ve seen his junk. I can’t just go up to him, when he still has his junk hanging out, and ask if he wants to get a coffee or something."

Jane looked unconvinced by this argument, but of course she had met and wed her husband, Thor, in under six months, but not everyone could have a fairy tale romance like that.

Darcy had signed up for the drawing class on a whim; she was a big fan of Bill Burnside’s work, who was a famous (but oh so mysterious) pop artist, and thought, hey, why not give it a shot herself?

And then the nude models had come in. Sometimes it was Natasha, and she was okay. Scary, but okay, because she was a woman, and Darcy appreciated her beauty, and it ended there.

Steve, on the other hand… He was prime rib, he was a banana split (and that was with an extra long banana). Darcy would look, long and hard, and drool maybe a little, but she wasn’t going to ask him out while he was still naked. She had to give the man a little dignity.

But Jane (god or whoever might be watching bless Jane and curse her to Hell) found a way to get around that.

Steve was in the middle of Jane and Thor’s apartment, drinking spiked hot chocolate, and very clothed. Yikes, how did he look even hotter with clothes on? She had seen him in a robe, true, but this tight shirt and jeans combo was killer.

"What the hell?" Darcy hissed at Jane. "What the hell is this?"

"Thor knows him," Jane said with a shrug. "Look, now’s your chance."

Steve smiled at Darcy as she settled down. “Hey, you’re in Professor Howlett’s drawing class. You always sit right by the window.”

"Oh, you know," Darcy said with a shrug, "that’s where you get the best light."

"Actually, if you sit by sink, I think you’d get an interesting perspective with shadows."

Steve showed just how much he loved art, and Darcy found herself having an easy and fun conversation with Steve. Steve had a greater appreciation for older artists, while she tended toward modern and pop, but Steve always found something relevant in what Darcy said.

"I really only took the class because of Burnside," Darcy admitted. "You know, Bill Burnside? He takes these super recognizable symbols and just… changes them, makes you really think about things, you know?"

Steve  glanced away, chewing his lip. “You don’t think he’s over hyped at all?”

"Well, people sometimes misinterpret his work, but that’s with all art. Like that piece on America, how everyone who had never seen a Burnside piece thought it was anti-immigration?" Darcy shook her head. "Must be tough. No wonder he’s a recluse."

"No," Steve said, with a smile that had Darcy melting, "I think he would be happy to hear that."

Several weeks later, after their eighth official date (fourteenth if you counted the unofficial ones, too), Steve showed her his own private studio.

"That’s a Burnside," she said in amazement, looking at a torn flag that was painted with a galaxy pattern. "That’s an original-"

Steve shrugged, an embarrassed half-smile on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you?”

Darcy would have asked for an autograph if she couldn’t have just gone up and kissed Steve instead.