#loucifer

The first guy was an immediate write-off, dragging his eyes over Sam in a way that left no doubt as to what he was here for. “I don’t usually go for black guys--” he started, cutting off when Sam got up from his seat. “Do us a favour and keep not going for us,” Sam said, disgusted.  “Sam, come on. That date was 5 seconds,” Sarah sighed. She was nursing a cranberry vodka by the bar, waiting for her boyfriend to show up (and make sure her stubborn older brother didn’t slip out of the event and go home.) “Yeah, well. He was looking to sample some chocolate,” Sam muttered angrily. Sarah’s eyes narrowed.  “Who?” “No, nope, you’re going to cause a scene.” “I won’t! I just want-- to talk to him.” “You’re going to kill him.” “Probably.” “Can we go now? This is a bust.” “Okay, one more date and then we’ll go when Richie comes.” “Fine,” Sam groaned. He sounded like a teenager bickering with his little sister again, but he didn’t care because this SUCKED.

“Steve,” he offered shortly, brushing his blond fringe out of his eyes. He was doing it again, freezing up and sounding snippy when he didn’t mean to, but this guy was-- wow. There were some people that Steve knew he’d be sketching as soon as he saw them because they were interesting in some aesthetic way, and then there were people who needed to be sketched because the world needed to know how gorgeous they were. This was one of those guys.  And Steve could barely make eye contact. His speed date-- Sam-- was toying with the straw in his drink as the uncomfortable silence stretched on. Get it together, Rogers. Ever since he’d come out to his friends, they’d been trying to get him a date. Well-meaning, but pushy-- and if that didn’t often describe Steve himself, he’d be really annoyed by it. But they’d noticed him looking longingly at couples holding hands in the park and decided to give him a little nudge. Well. A shove. “So,” Sam was saying now, “what do you do?” He let out a huff of breath between his lips and flashed a quick grin, and Steve saw that he had a cute little gap between his teeth and just about died right there. Which would have been pretty traumatizing for Sam.  “Sorry, that was a pretty weak question. You, uh... don’t seem like you wanna be here much,” Sam continued, shrugging one shoulder.  “I don’t,” Steve immediately burst out. He knew he was going red (dammit, Rogers) because it had sounded like he didn’t want to be there with Sam, which wasn’t at all true.  “Lucky for you, we only got 2 more minutes on the timer,” Sam said dryly and oh no, Steve had fucked up. “We can just sit here--” “Can I draw you?” “What.” God, even the flat way Sam drawled the word was kind of beautiful.  “You-- no, not-- I’m an artist-- I mean, I draw and--” “I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt that you didn’t mean to seem like a huge creep with that comeon,” Sam said shortly. Steve shook his head and puffed out his skinny chest. He wasn’t one to give up-- and he didn’t want Sam to think he was some kind of creep. “No, really, I am. I’m... can I be honest?” Sam’s only answer was a slow, elegant raise of an eyebrow that somehow made Steve’s feel butterflies.  “You’re gorgeous.” There, he’d said it, and hopefully it didn’t sound too weird. “And here I thought you were shy,” Sam chuckled. He folded his arms and Steve couldn’t help but admire them briefly.  “Well... I’m not. I was kinda stunned, to be honest. When you sat down.” “My beauty took your breath away?” Sam said jokingly, but Steve didn’t laugh “Pretty much. I w-- The timer went off. “Okay, folks! Switch partners!” Sam and Steve shared a glance that went on too long to really be called a glance.  “Hey, fellas-- looks like you’re having a good time, but we gotta move along, hey?” the organizer was at Steve’s elbow now, and Sam seemed to come back to himself. When they stood to shake hands, Sam noticed that the guy was-- small. He was a little shorter than Sam, just a little past the threshold of hipster skinniness with a mop of unruly blond hair that was definitely hipster.  “Steve. I’ll be around,” Sam said, holding out his hand and winking quickly. The guy had the bluest doe eyes behind his thick glasses, and the fingers that slipped into his were strong and calloused.  Uh-oh.  Sam felt a little light-headed when Steve’s mouth quirked into a smile. 

“I’m counting on it, Sam.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t get his number?!” “I dunno! I was trying to wrap up my stupid speed date so I could find him but when I looked up he was gone.” “I saw you two idiots, you were staring at each other like you got smacked with a trout! You didn’t get his kik or nothin?” “His what?” “You suck, Sam.” “Thanks, sis.” Sarah at least took pity on him and bought him a tequila shot. And then another. And then, another. 

“What do you mean, you didn’t get his number?!” “I was gonna ask, but he was ... talking to someone else and it looked like they were hitting it off--” “You just spent the last 5 minutes describing the exact shape and colour of his fucking eyes!” “Okay, but--” “And then 5 more minutes talking about his smile!” “Buck, hear me out--” “No, Rogers, you just did the same thing you always do. Reject yourself before someone else does.” “... well... I mean, when you put it that way...” “You suck, Steve.” “Thanks, Buck.”

Sickening amounts of wings and beer helped, but only a little. The tipsier he got, the more Sam’s laughing face swam in front of Steve.

It was only 4 steps. Steve felt like they were 4 miles, because Sam was at the bus stop that he’d been heading towards, and he was arm-in-arm with a tall man. Laughing.  It had been almost 3 months since they’d met, and Steve had thought about Sam probably more than was healthy. He certainly sketched him a lot. And here it was -- the spring sunshine slanted across Sam’s face and Steve felt sick with jealousy. But what right did he have? He’d left the damn bar-- “Are you gonna just glare daggers or you comin’ to say hi?” Sam called. Steve blinked. Both Sam and his-- boyfriend? -- were looking at him with no small amount of amusement.  Just 4 steps. Or Steve could turn and leave, hope he never ran into Sam again. He walked over to the bus stop, trying to make himself smile. He wasn’t quite sure he managed it.  “Hi, Sam. Been a while,” he said, at least managing to inject his voice with self-deprecation instead of self-hate.  “A while,” Sam repeated, shaking his head. “Here I was all excited to be an artist’s model and you ghost on me.” “I didn’t--” But he had. “Wait, what?” “Is this artist boy?” Sam’s companion asked, not even pretending to hide how entertaining he found the whole thing. To Steve’s surprise, Sam immediately became flustered, sputtering a little.  “Riley, shut the fuck up!” In the bright sun, Steve could just make out a flush touching Sam’s cheeks. A tiny bloom of hope dared to unfurl in his chest.  “Oh my fuck, he’s been talking about your beautiful hands and your voice for months,” Riley said, speaking loudly over Sam’s indignant squawks. “Can you please fuck him already so I can have some peace?” “Can I wh-- uh, aren’t you? You two?”  “Me and Riley? I’ve known the guy all my life and I would die for him, but that’s fucking gross,” Sam finally managed to get out, looking actively repulsed. Riley levelled a flat look at Sam.  “Thanks, man.”  But Steve was too busy smiling, because Sam was looking right at him. And he was biting his lip shyly, almost as if he wanted to stop himself from grinning back at Steve. Oh.  “Bus is here!” Riley said suddenly, making the two of them jump. “Uh-uh. My bus is here. I ride this,” Riley continued, gesturing to the bus, “and you ride him.” “RILEY.” But Riley was already on the bus, and Sam didn’t make any move to leave.  “World’s best wingman,” Riley said just as the doors closed. Steve felt his heart kick into high gear when Sam turned to look at him.  “Do you wanna grab a coffee?” Steve surprised himself by asking.  “Sure, if you’re buying with your fancy artist money,” Sam replied. Steve felt like the two of them would never stop grinning at each other and didn’t even care that they probably looked like idiots to passers-by.  This was gonna be perfect.

"I forgot that this place is closed on Sundays,” Steve sighed. Of course. Sam half-shrugged, not seeming much put out.  “Wasn’t really about the coffee, anyway.” Steve might not have been on a lot of dates, but he knew what the thrill through his body meant when Sam gave a slow and frankly, sexy smile.  “I got coffee at home? My apartment is kinda far but it’s nice out,” he said faux-lightly. “And I could, uh, draw you. If you still wanted to be my muse.” “Oh, bold.” “No pressure--” “I didn’t say no,” Sam interrupted softly. They didn’t even notice that the walk was almost an hour. Nothing else existed but them.

“Sorry for the mess,” Steve murmured. His room/studio was a fucking disaster and he hoped it wouldn’t put Sam off.  “You creative types,” Sam said, laughing as he sat gingerly on the edge of Steve’s bed. God, Steve could live the rest of his life off of that laugh.  “I can start the coffee,” Steve offered. He had a suspicion that-- “Why don’t we skip the coffee?” “We can go straight to the drawing,” Steve continued teasingly even as he walked over to Sam.  “We could, or...” “Or?” Sam’s fingers were warm in his and Steve needed no urging to sink down, sweeping his leg over Sam’s lap to straddle him.  “Oh,” Sam breathed, his deep brown eyes slightly widened.  “No?” Steve asked softly. Sam laughed again-- and Steve knew he wanted to be someone that made Sam laugh every day.  “Definitely yes,” Sam murmured against Steve’s lips.