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Graveyard shifts were always the hardest. Most everyone started to filter out of the bar about 1 or 2 AM on a normal night, even earlier during the week. They either moved on to another location to keep the party going in private or they headed home to crash and await their inevitable hangover. Bucky wished he could go home. It wasn’t even that it was 3 AM, but tomorrow was Christmas. He had to be at his mom’s house at fuck-thirty so they could start baking at ass o’clock, which meant he wasn’t even going to have time to sleep first. And after being terrorized by Rebecca’s kids all morning he’d have to hustle across town to the Rogers’s so he could have dinner with Stevie and his mom. At least Stevie was finally bringing Peggy home this year so Bucky might be able to sneak off and nap on the couch.
The morning shift would be in in about an hour, but until then it was just Bucky and the one customer in the place… the one customer who was also the only reason Bucky couldn’t spend that hour sleeping like he normally would on a shift like this. Whose stupid bright idea was it to have a bar open twenty-four hours a day, anyway? The only reason Bucky was even serving this asshole was because of how late it was and how fucking done he was. Besides, he was pretty sure the kid wasn’t old enough to be a cop, anyway.
Being a bartender in a college town meant that Bucky had seen more than his fair share of fake IDs. Even if this kid’s had passed his veteran scrutiny, that didn’t mean Bucky didn’t still know it was fake. There was no way he was over twenty-one, not with those big doe eyes and dark lashes that went on for days, the barest hints of baby fat still rounding out his cheeks. Bucky’s first thought upon seeing him enter was that he looked like a fawn, skittish and ready to bolt at any moment. Nobody was that nervous with a real ID.
“Hey,” Bucky’s thoughts were broken by the kid’s rough voice. He made a vague gesture at the glass in front of him, his third drink of the night. “Can I get ‘nother?”
Bucky eyed him warily, the way he swayed just a bit, the way his posture made him look like there was some great weight pulling him down. Bucky sighed.
“Nah, I’m cutting you off,” he said. “Think you’ve had enough.”
Which earned him a glare that might have been more effective coming from a wet kitten.
“Have not.”
Bucky grimaced.
“Look, it’s Christmas Eve. I don’t mean to presume nothin’, but ain’t there somewhere you could be? Someone I can call to come pick you up, maybe?”
If anything, he expected the words to get the kid’s back up, to start a fight. He didn’t expect it to make the kid’s face crumple.
“No,” he admitted, sounding absolutely miserable about the confession. “Not after earlier.”
Bucky completely, 100% blamed his sleep deprivation for asking, “What happened earlier?” instead of just letting it go like a normal human being.
Open mouth, insert foot.
The kid just gave him a smile that was all teeth and not a lick of mirth.
“You know what’s great about having parents who barely even acknowledge your existence?” the kid asked, not at all bothered by the complete change in topic. “You really appreciate the other relationships in your life. And, you know, Ty and I had been together for six months, right? That’s longer than anybody’s bothered to put up with me before. I wanted to make sure his Christmas gift was really special, you know?”
No, Bucky didn’t know. He had no idea who this Ty person was, a friend? Boyfriend? The kid was looking at him expectantly, though, so he nodded anyway.
“So, I spent a ton of hours in the lab trying to design just the right thing. And then today, yesterday? Whatever. Fuck, like, eight hours ago, I show up to Ty’s cause we were planning to spend the holidays with his parents and fucking Sunset Bane answers the door and Ty tells me it’s over and he knows I’ve been cheating on him and I don’t even know what he’s talking about and, and-“
The kid gives a sniffle and rubs at his eyes in a valiant attempt to pretend he’s not crying.
It doesn’t work.
“Oh,” is all Bucky manages to muster up, in all his boundless brilliance. “And you don’t have any friends or anything to spend it with?”
He and Stevie had been sharing Thanksgivings for literally decades. Twenty years, at least. Bucky could still remember running across the neighborhood at seven with Steve at his side, bouncing back and forth between their families.
“Oh, sure,” the poor guy sneered through his tears. “Like anyone at MIT wants anything to do with the seventeen-year-old who’s already on a second doctorate. With Rhodey back home for the holidays, there’s no one who gives a shit about me. Not that I can blame them. I just… I’ve never really had anybody for the holidays and I thought things were going to be different this year and now I’m fucking up your night, too, and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
Which, okay, no. That self-flagellating tone was doing all sorts of things to Bucky’s protective instincts. Also, a seventeen-year-old on his second doctorate? He knew MIT grew ‘em smart, but that was insane.
“That’s… You know what? No. Fuck it. I can’t let this happen.”
“Wh-what?” the teen stuttered out, clearly alarmed.
The tears still clinging to his lashes only made his eyes look that much larger. Bucky had been right, earlier, in comparing him to a fawn. He would be right at home surrounded by tiny woodland creatures.
Fucking. Adorable.
“You are now officially my date for Christmas,” Bucky informed him with a grin. “Ma’s been bugging me for ages to bring someone over and having you there will be a great excuse not to get stuck watching my demonic niece and nephew.”
Bucky actually loved his niece and nephew, even if they were unholy terrors, but a little spice never hurt anything.
“Uh… What? But… you don’t even know me.”
“Guess you should probably tell me your name, then. Just as well, seeing as Ma’d kill me if I showed up with someone and didn’t text her any of the details first.”
“O-oh, uh, Tony. My name’s Tony.”
Bucky grinned at him, relishing the blush that spread over the other’s cheeks.
“Nice to meet you, Tony. I’m James, but all my friends call me Bucky. Do me a favor?”
“S-sure.”
“Don’t tell my Ma I gave you alcohol.”