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“You sure seem happy today,” Sam points out smugly as Steve slips his silenced phone back into his pocket.
Steve flushes as he steps through the door that Sam is holding open for him. The arching metal and glass awning over their heads, along with the enormous wall of windows at the front of the building, gives Washington DC’s branch the Department of Veterans Affairs a clean, professional look.
Too clean. As always, Steve swallows down the feeling that he is tainting the polished floors by walking on them. It was not my fault. I could not have helped them. Their blood is not on my hands. Positive affirmations echo in Steve’s automatically, but still don’t hold the weight or truth that he wishes they would.
“I’ve been texting Bucky,” Steve admits with a shy grin, turning his mind back to Sam’s comment. “We haven’t managed a proper date yet, but my new work schedule gives me weekends off, so we’re planning to meet up for lunch on Saturday.”
Much to Steve’s surprise, the attractive and flirtatious man that he had accidentally offended at the gym a couple of weeks before wasn’t just looking for a hook up. In fact, Bucky never even tried to instigate sexual talk, despite his liberal flirting and bluntness about his interest in going on a date with Steve to get to know him better. The fact came as a relief, considering that Steve hasn’t gotten around to addressing his decreased libido. PTSD presents more pressing issues than that.
“That’s great, man,” Sam says with a wide, genuine smile, and pats his shoulder. “You should talk to the group about it.”
“We don’t even know if the new group will like me,” Steve reminds him as they wind through the familiar halls to the room that their support group meets in.
“Work schedules change, Steve, people get that. The Thursday group will like you just as much as the Tuesday group did, because nobody can resist that kicked puppy look,” Sam assures him with that familiar, friendly smirk and steers him into the room, where the chairs are already set up in a circle.
As always, Sam takes the seat with his back directly to the door. He once explained to Steve that the other veterans understand better than anyone how much trust that is putting in them, given that his back is almost entirely exposed and the rest of the group are the ones who can see the door. They may not be in combat anymore, but their minds still process each situation as if they are. Plus, Sam is one of the few in the room who is willing to put himself in that vulnerable position. At least he knows nobody will ever take his chair.
Steve slips into one of the unoccupied chairs, leaving a gap between himself and Sam. They may be friends, but during the support group sessions he has to separate himself from that friendship. For now, Sam is his group facilitator, nothing more. Some of the other group members, each unfamiliar to Steve, flash him shy smiles in greeting. He returns them silently until his eyes land on a smirk that he actually recognizes.
Thick lips. Scruffy jaw, resulting from skipping shaving for a few days. Long hair pulled into a lazy bun at the back of his head. Then there are those eyes, the ones he already knows by heart: blue, but not like sapphires. Somehow, they manage to be crystal clear despite the color being muddled with a hint of green and grey. Steve could stare at them all day without growing bored. His heart skips a beat in shock.
Bucky, despite being Steve’s almost-boyfriend, hadn’t mentioned that he had started to attend the support group sessions. Then again, they tend to avoid heavy topics like that when they talk. He shouldn’t be so surprised.
Should I go? Steve mouths, motioning to the door and giving Bucky the opportunity to keep the things he tell the group out of their relationship for now.
Bucky shakes his head and offers a fuller smile to signal his approval of the situation. Steve nods his agreement and glances over to Sam, giving his wide-eyed friend a reassuring nod as well. With that, Sam clears his throat.
“Alright, we’re going to get started, so this is last call for coffee and cookies,” Sam announces, drawing smiles from the more comfortable group members.
Once everyone is seated, Sam introduces Steve, giving a brief explanation about his schedule changing, causing him to switch days. The group members all give welcome murmurs and launch into the meeting. It is after the group congratulates a slight woman with tired, sunken eyes who announces that she is going to seek inpatient treatment that Sam gives Steve a meaningful look.
“I think that it’s time for our new friend to speak up,” he says teasingly, but his smile is friendly and comforting. All at once, Steve is reminded just how good Sam is at his job.
“Well, my goal from last week was to focus on forming new relationships,” Steve explains to the group, trying not to let his eyes rest too long on any of them, especially not Bucky. “It’s really hard for me to do that after losing my friends in combat. The idea of losing anyone else is too much, so it’s almost easier not to have anyone to lose. I have made a few close friends in the past year, but I haven’t even wanted to try to find new connections until now.”
“What changed?” a tall, wiry man with a deep scar dug into his chin asks in a soft voice.
“I met someone I want to try with,” Steve admits, glancing up to fix Bucky with a quick, nervous smile before looking back down to his lap. He isn’t used to feeling so shy about talking to the group, but talking about his budding relationship with Bucky while the other man is present is more than little nerve-wracking. Still, he pushes on with that smile still on his lips. “It was a pretty disastrous first meeting, but we’ve been texting for a little over a week now. We’re planning to go on our first date this weekend.”
“That sounds like great progress,” a dark skinned woman with her hair styled carefully into intricate braids tells him with a wide grin. Steve nods in gratitude.
“In the interest of full disclosure, I’m the one Steve met,” Bucky adds with a small small. “He had something to say about my one-armed pushups.”
The group gives stunned laughs while Steve splutters and blushes a bright red in his embarrassment. Bucky waves him off when he tries, yet again, to apologize. They have gone over the situation countless times in the past few weeks, and Bucky has made it clear that he has forgiven Steve. These reassurances haven’t made Steve stop apologizing, but even though he still feels terrible, Bucky has obviously moved on enough to tease Steve about the situation.
“I’ve been making progress too. As Steve mentioned, we’re going for lunch this weekend, but that’s not the only big thing for me this week,” Bucky announces, recognizing Steve’s discomfort and smoothly drawing the group’s attention away from the mortifying story. “I went shopping this week. My therapist suggested it a while ago, since I’ve pretty much re-wearing the same four outfits since I got back, but I haven’t managed to go to the mall without having a breakdown in my car.”
Steve knows the feeling all too well. The first time he went to a mall, he ended up locking himself in the family bathroom near the food court for almost an hour before he even made into a store. It was a combination of the amount of people all rushing around him, each with somewhere to go, as well as the lack of acceptable exits.
“Anyway, I was having a good day and decided it was time to get some new clothes, so I skipped the mall and headed to a smaller shop. I didn’t end up buying anything before I left, but at least I went,” Bucky finishes, smiling proudly.
Steve’s heart swells in chest at the pride in Bucky’s voice. This is the first time Bucky has shared any of those struggles with him and, though he wishes he could hide Bucky from that pain, he can’t help feeling proud for the man who has clearly been through hell and is making his way steadily back. A couple more people offer their own challenges and successes after Bucky is finished speaking, and the meeting draws to a close after that. Sam prompts them to chose a goal for the next week.
On a whim, Steve decides that his next goal will be to buy a new sketchbook and some proper art supplies. He announces it quietly but confidently to the group, and instantly knows it is the right thing to do. Steve has drawn since he got home, of course he has, but one of the issues he has struggled with is a feeling of worthlessness. For the longest time, Steve was convinced that he didn’t deserve to be alive, let alone to have nice things. That’s why he didn’t allow himself to buy anything that could be considered a luxury for almost two full months, including any art supplies fancier than a spiral notebook and a standard no. 2 pencil.
Bucky is the last to give his goal. He tells them with a cheeky grin that he wants to go to another store and actually get to the part where he buys some clothes. The words, though not technically a joke, draw quiet laughs from the group. Everybody understands the bittersweet humor in the statement. Sam waves them all off with a smile and reminds them to return the next week. Some of the group members leave quickly, no doubt relieved to be on their way to the relative safety of their homes, but others linger to take advantage of the coffee and cookies while they socialize.
“I didn’t know you drew,” Bucky says, stepping up beside Steve at the tray of cookies.
“I didn’t know you shopped,” Steve teases in return, and they exchange a warm glance.
Bucky chuckles, “Believe it or not, I used to be a very dashing and fashionable man. I guess I spent long enough in uniform to lose touch with current fashions, but I used to be above ratty jeans and old t-shirts at least.”
“I’ll put you in touch with Nat. She’s a badass fashionista and she’s been looking for a new project to use to convince me to let her fix my so-called ‘old man’ wardrobe,” Steve explains with a snort.
“I mean, she has a point,” Bucky acknowledges, looking over Steve’s outfit pointedly and quirking his brows before taking a bite of his cookie.
“Date canceled!” Steve retorts in mock offense, but he can’t quite keep the laughter out of his voice. He knows Bucky and Nat have a point.
“Well, it was fun while it lasted,” Bucky says in resignation, then a wide grin blooms over his face. “I’ve got to get home, but I’ll see you on Saturday.”
“Saturday,” Steve confirms with a smile, holding Bucky’s gaze for a beat longer than necessary before the other man turns to leave.