Chapter Text
“Thank you, have a great evening,” you called out to the retreating backs of the customers. As soon as the door closed, you collected the tip money and scrubbed down the table. Glancing at the television above the bar, the sports channel presented the time in a miniscule box in the lower-right corner. 11:40pm. Twenty minutes left in your shift, and then home at last. You hadn’t been home since eight this morning. In that time, you had gone to the gym, showered there, met with Dr. Romanoff for a few grueling hours of research, volunteered at the hospital for five hours, followed by a quick one-hour study session crammed in before your shift at Sam’s.
Wondering if you should try to study after this, despite your exhaustion, or tuck in early to wake up refreshed for another morning of research with Dr. Romanoff, your flinched when her colleague and friend, Wanda, snuck up behind you.
“Clint has leftover brisket. He asked me if we wanted any.”
“Jesus, Wanda.” You put your hand over your heart, whipping around. The only noise in the restaurant had been Clint banging on plates in the back, coupled with the hum of the television and the sound of glasses hitting the countertop as a few men conversed at the bar.
“Sorry, Y/N,” Wanda laughed, a few strands of her reddish mane loosening from her ponytail.
“It’s okay. Thanks for letting me know, I think I’ll take him up on that offer.” Wanda hummed as you turned to face the front of the restaurant to survey empty tables. You pretended not to notice Wanda eying your frame, approving of your decision to accept the food.
“Any big plans tonight?” Wanda inquired, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. Despite her relaxed stance, she remained alert, her eyes glancing towards her customers, a group of college students laughing over a basket of wings.
“Brianna had invited me to a frat party after this, but for obvious reasons, I won’t be attending,” you responded.
“Obvious reasons? The night is still young, are you worried about getting up early to meet with Romanoff tomorrow?” You ignored the hint of contempt in Wanda’s tone; judging from your stories, she considered Dr. Romanoff to be a pushy, pretentious academic.
“It’s not that. Knowing Brianna, she’ll want to go out after, and I can’t swing late night wings and Uber rides right now,” you muttered, stuffing your hands in your pockets. Before Wanda could reply, she was called away to her table. She sent you a look of understanding before she went, patting your shoulder in sympathy. You checked the clock again. 11:50. You felt your tiny, but cozy, futon calling your name. You must have been more tired than you had thought. After all, you were running on only a few hours of sleep after the late night study session you had pulled last night. Studying on Friday nights was never particularly enjoyable, but last night was especially unpleasant considering you had a chemistry exam on Monday.
The sound of the bell hanging above the door pulled you from your reverie. The door opened, letting in a gust of cool air. Sighing inwardly and pasting on a smile, you turned to greet the customers.
“Hi, welcome to Sam’s. Party of one?” The customer was looking down at his phone, a baseball cap hiding his visage from you, although his broad shoulders and muscular physique were evident, even underneath his coat. He looked up, his lips curving upward in a small smile. Your breath catching, you tried not to stare.
He was a good few inches taller than you, forcing you to tilt your head up. As he smiled at you, you observed his beautiful facial structure. Plump lips, bright blue eyes, and dark hair swept into a bun barely visible due to his cap.
“Yup, it’s just me,” he responded, his voice gravelly. He pocketed his phone as you grabbed a menu.
“Right this way,” You replied, forcing yourself to turn from him and continue farther into the restaurant. Seating him at a small booth, you placed the menu in front of him.
“I’ll be back in a few, let me know if you have any questions about the menu.” You quietly applauded yourself at your ability to maintain eye contact with him.
“Great. Thanks, Y/N.” His eyes strayed down to your name tag as he spoke, a soft smile painting his face. You returned the grin, only for it to fall as you turned around. Attending to the customer would extend your shift, making you lose valuable minutes of studying or sleep. Seeing that the men at the bar had left, you went over to wipe down the counter. Pietro, the bartender, nodded to you in thanks.
“Your customer’s cute,” Wanda commented, returning from her table. Her eyes were on the mystery man.
“Hm,” you said, noncommittedly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wanda asked. You looked over to the customer, his back facing you as he scanned the menu.
“Nothing, I just want to head out,” you admitted, lowering your voice. Wanda examined you for a moment, taking in the slight bags under your eyes, frizzy hair, and the way you were mindlessly shifting your weight due to the dull pain in your feet from running around all day.
“I can take him if you’d like,” Wanda offered.
“I bet you could,” you laughed. Wanda’s eyes widened, her hand coming up to her chest in fake offense. Turning, you returned to the customer. As you approached him, he was tapping out a message on his phone, a small frown etched on his face. He peered up at you as you came to a stop at the table.
“Are you ready to order, sir? Can I get you started with a drink?” The customer set his phone face down on the table, looking up with a kind smile on his face.
“Just about. I’ll get a water. I’d also like a piece of cake; do you recommend the chocolate or the vanilla?” You tapped your pen against your lips, thinking if you had tasted either.
“I’ve had the chocolate cake once, I remember it was pretty tasty. Not sure about the chocolate though,” you said apologetically.
“I would think you would have tasted the menu,” the man said, quizzical. He didn’t seem upset, more curious than anything.
“I’ve tasted more of the savory dishes than the sweet ones, to be honest. Sorry, sir.”
“No need to apologize, Y/N.” You kept your expression neutral as he referred to you by your name again. “I’ll take one slice of chocolate cake.”
“Great, that should be out soon,” you responded, taking the menu from him and submitting his order. Entering the kitchen, Clint looked up from the grill. Steam obscured his face as he flipped a few burger patties.
“Hey, I packed your brisket and placed it in the coatroom for you.”
“Thanks, Clint. That will last me a few days hopefully,” you said, leaning against the sink.
“Hm... more like a day or two,” he guessed, flipping a sizzling burger over.
“My servings aren’t as big as yours,” you replied, eyes on the ground as you started to think about what you actually had left in the fridge at home. You couldn’t go grocery shopping for another few days, but you were pretty sure you only had a few eggs, a bag of pot stickers, a pack of baby carrots, and some apples left.
Clint looked up at you when you said that, a frown settling on his face for a moment as his eyes briefly skimmed you figure as Wanda had done earlier. Despite that fall break had only lasted a week, you had returned to campus a bit lighter, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Clint and Wanda.
Clint pushed another container towards you.
“Some leftover vegetables and chicken. No one else wanted it.” Clint turned to the grill, anticipating your refusal. You sighed, but the memory of a mostly empty fridge made you pick up the box and walk to the small room which housed a bench and lockers where employees could store their personal belongings during work. Glancing at the television in the corner of the room, you checked to make sure that no more customers had entered the restaurant before placing the container in your locker next to your backpack and textbooks that couldn’t fit in your bag.
“Cake’s ready,” Clint called from the kitchen.
Taking the dish from the counter, you headed through the doorway to the attractive customer, who appeared more relaxed than before. He turned to face you as you approached him, and you almost laughed at how excited he was to see the slice of cake.
“Thank you, Y/N,” he said as you handed him the dish.
“No problem; let me know if you need anything else.”
“Actually, I noticed you were eyeing the clock earlier. Would it help if I paid the bill now rather than later?” You hesitated a moment, surprised that he had noticed.
“Well, technically I get off at twelve, but five minutes overtime won’t hurt,” you lied, knowing that you wouldn’t get paid for those five minutes.
“No, it’s alright.” The customer reached into his wallet, pulling out a few bills. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks, sir,” you said, gratefully, accepting the cash.
“Bucky,” you heard, though his voice was muffled.
“Sorry, what?” You asked.
“My name is Bucky. Hearing ‘sir’ makes me feel like a senior citizen,” he quipped. You cracked a small smile.
“Got it. Thanks, Bucky.”
Putting the cash in the register, you realized that Bucky had tipped generously. Maybe you could go grocery shopping a day or two earlier than you had anticipated. You clocked out and shrugged your coat on. Grabbing your backpack, books, and leftovers, you waved at Clint and Pietro.
“See you later, girl. Text me when you get home,” Wanda hugged you as you made your way to the door. You often walked the fifteen minutes to your apartment, despite it being pitch black outside and the chill in the air. Still, you needed to save money whenever possible, and the free campus shuttle system was often delayed or overrun by rowdy, drunk students. Besides, you always walked with a bottle of pepper spray hidden in your pocket and your key in hand.
“I will. See you.” Leaving the restaurant, you didn’t catch the stranger’s eyes following you as you were enveloped by the darkness.