Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His eyes held the weight of a thousand emotions, all of them raging like a storm. They told a million stories, of life lived and love lost. You could gaze into his eyes for the rest of your life, unravelling all of the mysteries held within, and still you would need to know more.

“Hmm, maybe that’s a bit much?” You muttered, reading over the paragraph silently.

“Sam. SAAAAAAM.”

“What’s up?” He called back.

The handsome brown-eyed man with the kindest smile you had ever seen wandered out of the kitchen, flour dusting his apron. Slinging a tea-towel over his shoulder, he sauntered over to you, leaning on the back of your chair and reading the word document you were working on.

“Well, he sounds dreamy. Based on anyone in particular?” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows at you.

“Nope. Completely imaginary.” You scoffed, ducking your head so you couldn’t see the counter or the man behind it anymore.

If Bucky Barnes, Co-Owner of the B&W café, noticed your conversation with his business partner and friend, he showed no signs of interest. With his muscular physique, thick brunette hair, and yes - stormy eyes; He really belonged more in the pages of a romance novel than behind the counter of a cozy café. You had come to the B&W Café for the coffee, stayed for the ambience, and kept coming back for the inspiration.

“Still you would have more questions than answers? Might roll off the tongue a bit better?” Sam suggested.

“Yeah! I like that. Thank you Samuel, you’re a literary genius!” You exclaimed excitedly, twisting in your seat to lean up and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“My pleasure, seriously.” He chuckled, beaming at you.

Sam was by far the friendlier of the two men, and had no reservations about befriending you when you started turning up on a damn near daily basis. You had put on a couple extra pounds, thanks to being his willing guinea pig for new pastry recipes, but it was worth it.

“Hey, wait, can you get me another one of these?” You asked quickly, stopping him in his tracks as he walked back to the kitchen.

You picked up your mug and gulped down the last few mouthfuls of your latte, passing the cup over to him.

“Not a problem baby, one latte with an extra shot of Americano coming right up. Barnes, get the lady a refill!”

Bucky looked up from the hissing coffee machine he was currently manning, his brow furrowed. He looked between you and Sam before he shook his head, scoffing loudly.

“Not a chance. That’s her fourth one this morning. She’ll have a heart attack if I give her more.” He dismissed.

“Barnes! Come on, I needs the caffeine! It helps me focus! Please.” You whined pathetically, pouting across the room at him.

“No.” He said sternly.

“Buckyyyy!”

“No. You sit there all day, bashing away at that thing, downing cup after cup of coffee. You’re going to keep over one day and we’ll be the café that killed your idiotic ass. I don’t care how much Sam likes you, I’m not risking my business.” He decided with a note of finality.

You gaped at him, thoroughly offended.

“Sorry sweetness, he’s in charge of the coffee.” Sam whispered, trying and failing to keep a straight face, hurrying back to the kitchen when you turned your disgruntled expression on him.

“Fine. I’ll just have… an iced coffee.” You grumbled.

“That still has caffeine in it, genius.” Bucky snorted.

“Ugh, Tea?” You tried.

“Caffeine-free herbal tea, sure.” He rebutted calmly.

“I’ll have a water.” You said, wrinkling your nose up in distaste.

He rolled his eyes and turned around to fill a glass with ice and you tipped your chair back, leaning across to the table next to yours.

“Hey, would one of you order me a latte?” You whispered to the couple sitting there.

The woman stifled a giggle, having overheard your argument with Bucky.

“NO!” Bucky roared, making you nearly fall off your chair in shock.

“What? Whoa, whatcha doing?” You demanded as he stormed out from behind the counter and strode across the room, dodging chairs and tables with lethal speed.

“You can’t harass other customers. You’re a menace!” He snapped, reaching your table and grabbing your notebooks.

“Hey!” You protested, snatching them out of his hands.

There was sensitive material in those!

“I told you, you’re not getting more coffee. I make the rules but you can’t respect them, so you’re out!” He told you, slamming your laptop closed and haphazardly shoving it into your bag.

“Out? I’m OUT? You’re barring me? What the hell Barnes?” You screeched.

You did not get the subway across the city across the city every morning so you could come to this particular café for nothing. You came here because it was the only place where you could write, it was the only place where your mind slowed down enough for you to make sense of the ideas whirling around it. You loved this place, it’s cozy décor, the handcrafted wooden furniture, the comfy chairs and tables that were neither to low nor too high, the delicious coffee aroma, the kind friend who you’d made in Sam. It was all just so perfect. You would not accept Bucky throwing you onto the street because he’d developed some kind of power complex this morning.

“You’re out.” He confirmed, looking you dead in the eye with a resolute gaze and shoving your bag into your arms.

You drew in a deep breath and stood up, throwing your shoulders back and raising your chin.

“You mark my words, Barnes… You will regret this. I will find a way to make you pay for this, and your downfall will be spectacular. And when you’re lamenting the choices that led you down this path, crying over the shattered remains of your life, I? I will drink coffee.” You hissed dramatically.

He rolled his eyes at your dark vow and raised his had to point at the door, as if you didn’t know where it was. You snarled at him and slung your bag over your shoulder, stomping towards the door.

“I WILL RETURN!” You yelled, trying to slam the door for good measure.

Of course, the hinges wouldn’t be complicit in your dramatic exit, they were in league with him. You huffed as you tried to slam it, putting all your body weight into it, but the door wouldn’t budge, insisting on closing slowly and ‘safely’. You could see him watching you through the glass, judging you.

“Damn it.” You muttered, straightening your spine and turning on your hell, storming away with what little dignity you had left.

Chapter Text

The disapproval was rolling off of Sam in waves as he stood at the kitchen door, glaring at Bucky.

“Did you just ban her?” He demanded, barely moving out of the way to let Bucky into the Kitchen.

“Technically I just told her to get out, she banned herself.” Bucky defended.

Sam shook his head, disappointment etched all over his face.

“Don’t look at me like that. If you’re so attached to her presence, man up and ask her out.” Bucky snorted.

That’s where all this was leading after all. Since the first time you’d stumbled into the café like a lost newborn deer, eyes flitting around with a half-nervous, half-discerning gaze, Sam had zeroed in on you. He’d bustled out of the kitchen, eyes alight with excitement as he smoothly led you to a table, pulling the chair out for you like he was a waiter in a fancy restaurant. From there it had only taken a few seconds for your laughter to fan out across the room, popping the bubble of monotony Bucky had been in and lighting up the world. He might have seen you first but it was Sam who had approached you, it was Sam who befriended you, it was Sam who you kept coming back for. He wasn’t jealous, just a tad bitter that he didn’t have the easy charm Sam did, that he wasn’t the one to introduce himself that day.  

“Startling concept for you Barnes, but I can be friends with a pretty girl without wanting to date her.” Sam scoffed.

“Whatever you say. Man the front for me, I need a break.” Bucky sighed.

Yeah, Sam didn’t want you. That’s why he lit up like a beacon whenever you came in, and why he spent hours crafting new masterpieces in the kitchen for you to sample.

“What? She’s sweet, and you have to admit she’s hilarious.” Sam insisted, hanging up his apron.

You were sweet. He’d lost count of the amount of times he’d gone to clear a table only to find you wiping it down for him, or seen you pulling funny faces across the café at a bored kid in a highchair. And yes, you were funny, but not on purpose. You just a predilection for idiocy that he hadn’t seen the likes of since he was a child and had pulled a scrawny blonde kid out of a back-alley fight. At least Steve’s brand of idiocy came from a big heart, yours just came from a tiny brain.

“She’s a danger to herself and society.” Bucky snorted, mentally tallying up how many times he’d had to tip your chair forwards before you brained yourself on the floor.

At least seventeen that he could think of, minus the one time he had been too far away to stop you clattering to the floor with a heart-stopping crash. He had panicked, vaulting over the counter to get to you and you’d only laughed, rubbing your head and blinking up at him innocently. He could have throttled you in that moment.

“Keep telling yourself that Barnes. Enjoy your break.” Sam said knowingly, raising his eyebrows as he backed out of the kitchen with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Bucky rolled his eyes and leant against the kitchen counter to wait. He wasn’t kept waiting long, barely a few minutes passed before there was a gentle harried rap on the door. Biting down a grin he swung it open to reveal you standing in the alleyway, looking over your shoulder to make sure you hadn’t been followed.

“Sam, sneak me a latte, please… FUCK!” You exclaimed, your features morphing from desperation to anger when you finally turned around and saw it was him, not Sam at the door.

He crossed his arms and stared you down, letting you see just how unimpressed he was with your attempts at espionage.

“You… how… Ah damnit.” You stammered, sticking your bottom lip out and pouting like your life depended on it.

“Did you really think immediately sneaking around to the back door was going to work?” He huffed.

“It would have worked if you weren’t such a jerk.” You huffed back, crossing your arms to mirror him.

“You really think calling me a jerk is going to get me to let you back in?” He challenged.

“What would get you to let me back in?” You asked, intrigued.

“Nothing.”

“Aww come on. Bucky, doll, can’t we work this out?” You asked sweetly, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

“You’re not as cute as you think you are.” He told you.

“Well that a damn lie, I’m adorable.” You gasped.

You really were, you were an adorable little bundle of mayhem and he would never admit that out loud. He could have backed down and admitted that he hadn’t really meant to ban you, he had just wanted you to order something healthier, but he was enjoying himself. It wasn’t often he could capture your attention like this. You were normally almost deliberate in ignoring him, and he liked having your focus on him. Mostly though, he was just curious to see what you would do next.  

“I don’t care how adorable you think you’re being, it ain’t working. You want coffee, go somewhere else. You want to see Sam, wait till he’s off work.”

At least that way he wouldn’t be forced to watch you giggle and fawn over his friend, or be treated to more disgusting displays like the one earlier when you’d kissed Sam on the cheek like a princess thanking her knight in shining armour.

“But you make the best coffee in the city!” You whined.

“I know.” He said smugly.

“You’re a dick.”

“I thought I was a jerk?” He questioned.

“You’re both. You’re a dick jerk. No.. wait! That sounds too fun.” You frowned, confusing yourself.

It took all of his self control to keep up his strict demeanour and not laugh.

“You need a minute to think of your insult sweetheart?” He offered.

“Yes.” You grumbled, glaring at him, your brow furrowing up and your eyes going squinty as you tried to convey your anger through them.

He made a show of settling against the door frame, waving his hand at you to continue thinking up your next jab.

“You’re a mean one Mr Grinch?” You tried out, looking at him for approval on your insult of him.

“Aren’t you a writer?” He tutted.

“Yeah well I’m better with typing than talking.” You defended.

“Wanna text it to me?” He suggested amicably.

“I’ll do that.” You agreed, nodding once in such a pleased manner.

You looked so relieved that he didn’t have the heart to point out that you didn’t have his number.

“I’ll eagerly await the literary blow that’s going to wound me.” He said dryly.

“Good! It’s going to be epic. I’m going to go think of it now.” You informed him, taking a step back and turning away before you turned back with a hopeful expression on your face.  

“Can I have a coffee to go?”

He levelled you with a dead-pan expression that he kept in place as he slammed the door closed on you, only allowing himself to grin when you couldn’t see him anymore. He had to stop at the kitchen door and school his features before he went back into the café, god forbid Sam see him smiling like an idiot over you.

Or worse… Steve.

His oldest friend was leaning on the counter, chattering away to Sam as the latter filled a to go cup. It wasn’t unusual to see Steve here, he did own the bookstore next door after all. When they’d come back from what the three of them collectively decided was their last tour overseas, they had worked together to carve out this calm little corner of the world for themselves. On any given day he was just as likely to be unpacking boxes or setting up the art supply displays next door, as he was to be working here, and vice-versa. The three of them worked well together, and had done since he and Steve had met Sam in Afghanistan. They all had their strengths, and they had found a natural way to make that bond forged in war work in normal life. Hell, if it hadn’t been for Sam and Steve picking up his slack when he got home and was trying to re-adjust to civilian life then the businesses would have never gotten off the ground.

Coming home had been difficult for all of them, and settling back into the real world had taken a lot of work, but Bucky had to also contend with the fact that not all of him had come back. Even thinking about it made his shoulder twitch painfully, something it only did as a psychological reaction these days. The prosthetic arm had been incredibly sore to begin with, but a lot of physiotherapy and actual therapy had made it easier. It had been a long journey for him, and if not for the two men chatting to each other a few feet away from him, he would still be locked in his apartment and silently raging at the world.

Sam and Steve were his two closest friends in the world, he trusted them with his life, even if his life wasn’t in danger anymore. Which is why Sam’s words as he pressed the lid onto the to go cup didn’t quite make sense at first.

“Here’s your latte.”

A prickle of unease washed over Bucky, only made worse by the sheepish expression on Steve’s face when he saw Bucky walk behind the counter.

“You always order an Iced Americano.” He hissed, narrowing his eyes at the cup Sam was passing over to Steve, the pieces falling into place as he realised too late that he’d been played.

“Run!” Sam hollered as Steve grasped the cup and shot for the door, Bucky hustling to follow.

Steve burst through the door before he’d even made it from behind the counter and he was forced to watch as you casually walked past the glass windows, reaching out to take the cup that a cackling Steve passed you like a baton. You saluted him with the cup, winking at him and holding up your phone with your other hand. Right on cue his own phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out in utter disbelief, the mocking text from an unfamiliar number glowing up at him from the screen.

‘Hope you enjoy the view from back there Barnes, cause you’re always gonna be two steps behind me 😘’

He clenched his jaw and looked back up to watch you cockily swig your ill-gotten latte, your eyes that were twinkling with mischief locked onto his. So you’d known he would assume you’d try to sneak in the back door and had set out to keep him distracted while Steve obtained your prize for you. The question was, how long had you had his number, and who the hell had given it to you?

Taking his gaze off of yours he typed his response and put his phone back in his pocket, looking back up to watch your reaction when you read it. You glanced down at your phone, your lips curling up into a delighted grin when you saw his text.

‘Then you had best be looking over your shoulder, doll. Game on.’

You threw your head back and laughed loudly enough that he could hear you through the window. The message was clear, challenge accepted.

So he hadn’t intended to ban you, but he was glad he had. This promised to be a lot of fun.

Chapter Text

“How’s your latte?”

“Almost as sweet and delicious as my victory.” You sighed happily, settling down on the slightly worn armchair.

“Your victory?

“That’s fair, to your valiant assist and subsequent victory.” You acquiesced, toasting Steve with the cup.

The second you had stormed into Brooklyn Books, whining loudly at Bucky’s cruel actions, Steve had hustled you out of the back door with your instructions. All you’d had to do was keep Bucky occupied long enough for Steve to go in the front entrance and get your latte off of Sam, and it had worked! Bucky’s face when Steve had passed you the latte was the funniest thing you had ever seen. He’d looked like steam was going to come out of his ears. And when he had read your text? You had almost lost all semblance of composure right there on the sidewalk.

You stifled a giggle at the fresh memory. Your heart was still pumping with the adrenaline the victory had given you. Or maybe that was the caffeine?

Nah.

“So you know him better than anybody, how am I gonna get him to unbar me?” You prodded, leafing through a vampire novel on the sale pile.

“I don’t know, sorry.” Steve winced. “I don’t know what he’s playing at, it’s not like Bucky to be so rash or harsh.”

You couldn’t live with the thought that you weren’t allowed to hand out at the B&W anymore, you just couldn’t. Between your room-mate and your neighbours, there was no peace at home to write. Not that the view of the adjoining apartment block from the window was a particularly inspiring view. You had to write a short story every week for the trashy magazine that supplied your pay checks and you really needed the inspiration boost that B&W provided. It was ironic that the man who was the basis for the romantic leads in your stories was the man who had thrown you out on your ass.

At least you still had Steve’s shop. The café might be your favourite place to hang out, but the book shop was a very close second.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, frowning at the way you were visibly sizing him up.

“Trying to picture you as a lumberjack.” You shrugged, pulling your notebook out and making notes.

“Oh no, not again.” He groaned, blushing slightly.

“Look, Bucky took my coffee and my inspiration. I need something to work with.”

“If it helps you.” He surrendered, smiling softly.

His cheeks were tinged pink with embarrassment but he looked flattered. Somehow, Steve could never quite grasp the concept that he was drop-dead gorgeous, and you liked to gently remind him of it from time to time.

You took your inspiration from real life when you were writing. You never used names, or real information, just general physical observations and notes on body language. Steve knew you did it, so did Sam, the former was more into it though. Sam had torn the pages out of the magazine when you’d written your little story based on him and he kept it in his wallet. They also both knew that you spent hours gazing at Bucky, letting him fuel your imagination. They proof read all your pieces for you, so they couldn’t miss it. Somehow, in their minds, that equated to you having a crush on Bucky.

As if.

“At least this finally forced you to text him.” Steve teased with the most innocent expression.

“Yip, you slipping me his number finally paid off.” You grinned.

“You were meant to use it to ask him out, not torture him.” Steve sighed.

“I’m not torturing him! He’s torturing me!” You objected.

Steve’s comment did give you an idea though. You opened the camera app on your phone and snapped a picture of the latte, making sure to get Steve in the background, before you sent it to Bucky. It was read almost immediately and you chuckled when you saw the three little dots that let you know he was typing.

Bitchy Barnes: How did you even get my number?

You sniggered, somehow you could hear his disgruntled tone through the message.

You: It was written on a bathroom wall. It said to call Bucky Barnes for a really awful time.

Bitchy Barnes: Enjoy that latte, doll. It’ll be the last one you ever get from my café. I don’t care what tricks you try, you are never stepping foot in here again.

“Oh, is that so?” You cackled aloud.

You could feel the maniacal grin creeping across your face as you devised a very mature plan to get under his skin.

“What are you planning?” Steve asked curiously, peering down at your phone.

You jumped, having not heard him cross the shop. He smiled apologetically and held out the book you’d been flipping through.

“Here, you can have it.” He told you.

“Thanks Rogers, put it on my tab and don’t tell anyone I read vampire erotica.” You pleaded.

“My lips are sealed.” He swore.

He wouldn’t put it on your tab, he never did. Every month your total was way lower than it should be but you pretended you didn’t notice. Just like he pretended not to notice you stuffing cash into the tip jar by the cashier. You carefully put the book in your bag, slotting it behind your laptop.

“I’m gonna head off, if I leave now I can stop by the market and grab stuffs for dinner.” You informed him, slinging an arm around his neck while you stood up.

“Good, I don’t like you getting the subway after dark.” He said, relieved, engulfing you in a warm bear hug.

“Oh, I know.” You grumbled, pulling away and shaking your head in mock disappointment.

Twice you’d caught him following you home, making sure you were safe. First time it had been creepy but by the second time you knew him well enough to know he was just a big sweet goofball who worried too much about his friends. Still, he had the good grace to grin sheepishly at you as he waved goodbye.

You slipped out of the door and hid behind the wall that separated the bookshop from the café, making sure you couldn’t be seen from inside B&W. You typed out a text to Bucky, mostly gibberish, and waited until the little icon said it was read. As soon as he opened the text you bolted, sprinting the few feet to the door and falling through it. Bucky looked up from the his position behind the cash register, his eyes immediately darkening with fury.

“So much for not stepping foot in here again!” You crowed, running across the café and depositing your empty coffee cup right in front of a seething Bucky.

“Throw that out for me would ya’, doll?” You smirked.

Sam poked his head out of the kitchen door, intrigued by the commotion, and promptly started wheezing with laughter.

“Hi Sam!” You waved.

“You little…” Bucky hissed.

“Bye Sam!” You yelled, sprinting back out of the café as fast as you could, almost doubling over with laughter.

“See you later baby girl.” Sam called after your retreating figure.

You glanced back over your shoulder, laughter still bubbling out of you. If you’d thought Bucky looked cross before, it was nothing compared to the dark brooding look on his face now. Oh yeah, that got under his skin alright. And tomorrow, you’d up your game. You gave him a mocking wave, blowing a kiss through the window for Sam and set off towards the market. Tapping your phone, you scrolled through your contacts and called your roommate, listening to it ring as you walked.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, I’m going to pick up stuff for dinner but before you tell me what you want, you will not believe what happened to me today.” You groaned, preparing to unload it all on her.

She picked up on your tone straight away and you heard her huff out an annoyed breath on your behalf.  

“Tell me everything and I’ll sharpen my knives.” Natasha hissed.

Chapter Text

You had to do some juggling to get your keys out of your bag, laden down with grocery shopping as you were, but you eventually managed. Your apartment had a somewhat strange layout. The front door, the one with the locks and deadbolts, didn’t actually lead to your apartment, it led to the corridor where your front door was. It hadn’t always been that way, when you moved in your front door had been your main door but after Natasha spoke to the landlord she’d changed it. Now your front door and your neighbours front door were just… doors. It was like living in one gigantic apartment, with you and Nat on one side and the twins on the other.

“I’ve got food!” You yelled as you kicked the main door closed.

The twins door swung open and a vaguely silverish blur came shooting out, and the next thing you knew you’d been relieved of your bags.

“Thanks Pietro.” You cooed at your speedy friend.

“You should have called, I would have come to help.” He admonished.         

“I had it, besides, you’re on dish duty.” You snorted.

The flowery scent wafting out of the twins open door made your shoulders untense slightly. You’d come to associate the smell of Wanda’s plants with home, and not the kind of home that was a place, the one that was a feeling. The kind of home that was family. Wanda with her soft smiles and spine of steel, Pietro with his roguish charm and fierce loyalty, and of course Natasha... Natasha with her unique brand of vicious affection who was the sensible calculating yin to your instinctive chaotic yang.

“Shall I cook?” Wanda called, her voice drifting into the hallway.

“Yes, please!” You and Pietro called back in tandem.

“Are you working tonight?” You asked Pietro as you followed him into the twins kitchen and started unloading groceries.

“Clint hasn’t called yet.” He answered, shrugging.

“What about you Wands?” You yelled, peering around the apartment.

You eventually spotted the red of her cardigan through the thick foliage on the teensy balcony.

“I had two clients this afternoon, but none tonight.” She told you, climbing back in through the window with her watering can.

“Great, family dinner?” You asked excitedly, clapping your hands together.  

“Oh yay, is Nat off as well?” Pietro asked through a mouthful of carrot.

“She finished up her case today, just has some paperwork to do but she’s free. That’s supposed to be for dinner Bugsy.” You admonished, snatching the bag of carrots away from him and passing them to Wanda on your way out of the door.

“We’ll be over soon with dinner. Pietro no!”

You swung your own front door open, slinging your bag off your shoulder and dropping it on the armchair.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announced, throwing yourself onto the sofa.

“If Barnes were to die then Sam would inherit the café and lift your ban.” Natasha mused.

You sat up and peered over the back of the sofa at her, perched on the kitchen counter and idly twirling a kitchen knife in her hands.

“Not that I’m opposed to a spot’o’murder but lets try less bloody methods first. There are so many painful ways to make him suffer that don’t involve burying a body.” You laughed lightly.

“Suit yourself.” She smirked.

You flopped back down against the cushions, not fighting the affection smile creeping across your face.

“I’ll find a way back in, I don’t care how.” You snorted.

“Want my help?” She offered, seriously.

She would take care of it for you in a heartbeat if you asked, though you shuddered to think of how. But she would also step aside and let you do it yourself if that was what you wanted. Natasha was equally comfortable being your Avenging Angel as she was being your cheerleader from the sidelines. She was truly the best friend you could have ever hoped for.

She hadn’t started out as your best friend, you’d first known her as a classmate from ballet classes. She was the graceful shining star of the show, whereas you were more like a floppy wilting flower. But she’d been drawn to your loud voice and silly antics, or as she put it ‘your brazen attitude and sheer lust for life’. It hadn’t taken long to discover that you were both unsatisfied with the lives you were in, though in very different ways. You didn’t want to be a ballerina at all, it was just something you’d latched onto in your desperation to find a way to be an artist. Natasha was just doing what was expected of her, because she didn’t know any different.

It could have been a passing friendship, one that devolved into nothing more than occasionally checking in on social media, but you’d taken one huge risk at each others sides and the bond became unbreakable for it. You would never regret the night you and Nat had piled yourselves into Clint’s camper van and ran away from home together. You’d left a note for your family, called them at every new town or city, but for Natasha it was a true escape. You and Clint were her family from that moment on.

“I might need an assist at some point. But no knives!” You berated playfully.

“We’ll see.” You shrugged, smirking ever so slightly.

“Nat!”

She stared back at you unblinkingly, like a stubborn cat. You knew you weren’t going to win but you still tried, groaning when your eyes watered and you were forced to blink.

“For whatever reason, that café is the one place you can find your words. And your words are beautiful. I won’t let Barnes take them away from you.” She warned.

Her friends dreams and aspirations meant the world to Natasha. She was the one who hunted down the real estate for Clint’s pizzeria and helped him open the place, and she was the one who found the business course for Wanda attend. It was Nat who taught Pietro how to drive and took him to get his licence. It was Natasha who spent a summer backpacking through Italy with you, putting up with your painting phase. She had covered the apartment in tarps when you took up pottery, and tried every culinary disaster when you tried your hand at cooking. It was Natasha who had abandoned you at a community centre outside a creative writing class and smiled knowingly when you came racing home excitedly after it, handing you the new journal she’d bought in anticipation.

“You’ve always been a storyteller, it’s about time you figured that out.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” She pressed, breaking you out of your reverie.

What indeed?

“I have an idea.” You smirked.

Meanwhile, across the city, in the heart of Brooklyn, a very different but related conversation was taking place…

“You’ve got some explaining to do Stevie.” Bucky snapped.

Steve looked up from the sales records he was working on to see Bucky standing in the doorway, waiting to hear why he’d been betrayed.

“I’m not the only one. Why’d you throw her out Buck? She’s your favourite customer, and don’t even try to deny it.” He scoffed.

“I didn’t really throw her out, not permanently. I just didn’t correct her when she jumped to conclusions.” Bucky sighed, conveniently ignoring the second half of Steve’s words.

“So this is all a misunderstanding?” Steve pressed hopefully.

“Oh hell no. She’s really banned now.” Bucky said gruffly.

“I can’t wait to hear the thought process behind that decision.”

“She couldn’t just accept it, she had to get smart, and get my best friend to turn on me in the process. I’m not going to take that lying down. She can try all she wants but I will stop her. She wants back in, she has to get past me.”

A giddy little bubble of happiness flared to life in Steve’s chest. He knew exactly what Bucky was up to now, he was playing with you. You’d provided Bucky with a challenge, a game for the two of you, and Bucky had taken the bait.

He’d hoped you’d just talk to each other like normal people, go to dinner or something, but this would work just as well. Better actually, it was more fitting to both of your personalities. You and Bucky could have your little game, he’d play along with it and wait to see how long it took you both to realise what it was you were really playing for.

“Alright Buck. Your business, your rules.” He agreed, pretending to back down, but Bucky saw straight through him.

“You’re gonna help her!” He accused.

“Nope. I’m staying out of it from now on, Scouts honour.” Steve lied, transparently.

Bucky just narrowed his eyes, knowing he was outnumbered but not outmatched. There was a steely determination in his eyes that was all too familiar to Steve.

Yeah, you were going to need all the help you could get.

Chapter Text

The second he flipped the sign on the door from closed to open, he was on high alert. He didn’t know exactly what you were planning, but he knew you were planning something. Your attack was imminent and he couldn’t wait to thwart it. More importantly, he couldn’t wait for you to throw another tantrum when he did. You’d get all pissed and pouty, probably even stamp your feet like a petulant toddler. Your passionate displays were always fun, even when they were a little bratty.

The truth was he liked that you had such an immature streak, that you’d retained that touch of childish nature most people lost as they grew up. The fact that you were confident enough to actively make an idiot of yourself and not care if anyone judged you for it was admirable to him. You brought a touch of levity to his life, sprinkled some colour into the monotony. In a world that was cruel and unforgiving, your antics gave him something to laugh at, your presence gave him something to look forward to.

The morning passed in a haze of anticipation, his heart jumping every time the door opened. He looked at the clock for the hundredth time, watching the big hand hit one pm. You were making him wait, drawing it out, but he could be patient. Turning back to the line of customers he smiled at the woman in front of him, one eye on the door still.

“One large Latte, please.” The customer in front of him ordered.

Her deep, raspy voice and gruff British accent made him look up from the till. She was bundled up in a parka coat, face hidden behind a red scarf. All he could really see of her was the tangled frizzy ends of her blonde hair peeking out from under the hood.

“Of course miss, name please?” He asked politely, ringing it up.

“Um.. Natalie.”

“That’ll be $3 please.” He told her, curbing his suspicion.

It was cold out, she had every right to be bundled up. She might have a cold, maybe that was why her voice was so low. She was hunched over, her figure under a massive jacket, every inch of skin covered by scarves and gloves. It might be you, but he couldn’t accuse her without absolutely solid proof. But if it was you, then you would know that.

He pondered it as he handed him a $5 bill and told him to keep the change. Thanking her he decided it probably wasn’t you, simply because you would at least order a latte to go. He watched her shuffle over to an unoccupied table, cursing silently.

He was paranoid. He’d thought your attempt would be obvious, and dramatic, but what if it wasn’t? With Sam and Steve helping you there was no telling how sneaky you could be. You could simply send in a parade of strangers on your behalf and text him mocking pictures if you wanted. It was unlikely you were going to be direct and come in yourself, which defied the point of this whole endeavour. It didn’t help that a latte was the most popular coffee people ordered.

For the first time, he truly considered what he was up against.

He still kept a wary eye on the parka coat out of the corner of his eye as he served the old man next in line, ringing up the order distractedly.

“Two large cappuccinos, two lattes – one large one small, one small black coffee and two blueberry muffins, all to go.” He listed off, making sure he got the order right.

You were distracting him, but he couldn’t let you make him start screwing up. He carefully watched her collect her cup from the counter and take it back to her table, trying to shake off the prickle of unease slithering up his spine.

His instincts had been finely honed in much more precarious situations than this but they were still applicable. Every instinct was screaming at him right now, telling him this was a trap. Time seemed to slow down as he assessed the situation, eyes taking in every minute detail around the café. When parka reached into her bag and removed a familiar laptop, he knew he was right.

He had you.

Calmly finishing his order he slid the to go cups across the counter to the old man and untied his apron, calling another employee to man the till for him. Adrenaline flooded his veins as he stalked across the café, his eyes fixed on the back of the park hood.

“Everything alright here miss?” He asked loudly.

She jumped, ducking her head low.

“Everything’s fine.” She squeaked.

“Sure I can’t get you anything else?” He prodded, biting the inside of his cheek to contain his smirk.

“No, no thank you.” She whispered, keeping her head hung low.

You weren’t as slick as you thought you were. He saw right through your little plan, as well played as it almost was.

“All right, let me know if you change your mind… Wanda.” He snarked.

Her head jerked up in surprise and he raised his eyebrow, staring down at the young woman.

“Hi Bucky.” Wanda sighed, unravelling her scarf and pulling off the cheap blonde wig, stuffing it in her bag.

He crossed his arms and turned back to the till, smirking at the to go cups still sitting there, minus one.

“WHAT THE HELL?” He heard you screech, right on cue.

Standing on the sidewalk, a very irate old man with a suspiciously feminine voice was glaring at him through the glass, clutching a to go cup full of warm water.

It was the oldest trick in the book, trying to make someone look in one direction while the trick was pulled in the opposite. Sending Wanda in with a flimsy disguise to draw his attention so he didn’t notice the old man with the convoluted order behind her, it was almost smart.

Almost.

He didn’t bother hiding his grin as he walked over to the door, he wanted you to see it. Behind the make up and latex, he could see the defeat on your face. Pushing the door open he chuckled at the ridiculousness of your situation.

“Morning doll, you’re looking well.” He sassed, facing off against you on the sidewalk.

“HOW? How the hell did you known it was me?” You shrieked, brandishing your walking cane at him.

“It’d take more than some cheap joke store make-up and a flat cap for me not to see right through you sweetheart.”

“Well first of all, this stuff was not cheap, and it took hours to put on. Second of all, I like the cap, it’s a look.” You huffed, shoving the cup of water at him.

Passerby’s kept doing little double takes as they walked past, but you didn’t even seem to notice them.

“It suits you, brings out your wrinkles.” He snorted, very much enjoying the frustration pouring off of you.

“Alright, fine. This round is yours, but this isn’t over!” You warned.

He stepped up to you challengingly and to his delight, you didn’t back down. The petulant little expression on your face was all the more amusing for the deep wrinkles and fake moustache and he took a moment to compose himself before he spoke.

“I look forward to it, doll.”

You let out a sound that could only really be described as a little growl, and just like he’d predicted, stamped your foot.

“No! No looking forward to it! You’re gonna lose, you smug git!” You huffed, turning on your heel and stomping away from him.

“No, I’m not.” He called after you, ducking back into the café before you could try and get the last word in.

You gave a strangled scream of frustration, arms flailing in the air frustratedly. He watched you walk out of sight, elation flooding him. This was more than just one simple victory.  He’d wound you up spectacularly, there was no chance of you backing down at all. Whistling jovially he slid back behind the counter, already looking forward to the next encounter.

Next door you pushed the door open and made a beeline for Steve who was sat behind the counter, looking up when he hear the door jingle.

“Good afternoon sir.” Steve greeted as you stormed in.

“I need to use your bathroom, I gotta get this ridiculous crap off my face.” You huffed, stomping past him.

He did a double-take, recognising your voice.

“Wh..what?” He spluttered, gaping at you.

“Oh great, you fall for it, but not him! Fantastic!” You whined, storming back out of the door.

“Steve fell for it!” You yelled, knocking on the glass window of the café.

Bucky looked up from his conversation with Sam, shaking his head at you exasperatedly. Sam frowned and called your name, cocking his head to the side like a confused cocker spaniel. Realising that was in fact you, he promptly doubled over with laughter, resting his hands on his knees as he gasped for air.

You shifted your glare between the two of them, seething silently.

So Bucky Barnes thought he could beat you, did he? You’d show him! You’d show them all. This might have been a colossal failure, but the next attempt wouldn’t be. You were far from out of ideas, in fact… your next one was already forming and your glare melted away as you smirked to yourself.

“You look like an absolute idiot!” Sam shouted through the glass jovially, tears streaming down his face.

Steve poked his head out of his door, his laughter joining in.

You really did look ridiculous. A burst of laughter breezed out of you and you threw your head back, chuckling loudly. Once you started you couldn’t stop and Steve had to come and hold you up as you dissolved into a fit of giggles. Sam bustled out of the café, Wanda in tow and they joined in, phones out and clicking away as they documented your ridiculousness.

As the four of you huddled on the sidewalk, struggling for breath, you made the mistake of looking back through the window. Bucky was standing in the middle of the café, his own phone pointed in your direction. You rolled your eyes and held your arms at, silently telling him to have at it.

He had won this round, he deserved some kind of prize. Let him document this moment, because it was the last victorious one he was getting.

Chapter Text

“Have you really sunk this low?” Steve snorted, checking the coast was clear before he let you out of the back door and into the alleyway.

“Buddy, I wasn’t exactly high up to begin with, hasn’t been a long descent.” You sniggered.

He winced as you opened the garbage can and even you wrinkled your nose. This might not be dignified but in war there had to be sacrifices. Bucky had beaten you yesterday, and you’d spent hours trying to peel latex off your face. You needed a win, and you’d happily dig through garbage to get it.

“Sam said it was in the red bag.” Steve supplied helpfully.

Bucky was watching his partner with eagle-eyed suspicion so Sam couldn’t sneak you a drink, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still useful.

“The red bag? The red bag under the pile of broken eggshells?” You whimpered.

“He said he’d help you, he didn’t say he’d make it easy.” Steve said, biting back a laugh.

“Have you got gloves?” You asked hopefully.

“Nope.” He shrugged ‘apologetically’.

“Really? Not a single pair of rubber gloves amongst all the cleaning supplies?” You groaned.

He shook his head, his face reddening with the strain of withholding his laughter.

“Really Rogers, you’re supposed the chivalrous one.” You sighed, shaking your head in disappointment.

Rolling up your sleeved you tentatively dipped your hand into the garbage can, gagging. You managed to grasp a corner of the red satchel without touching anything gross and used it to tug the bag out of the bin.

“Package secure.” You said victoriously, just as the handle of the café back door jiggled.

“Run!” Steve whisper shouted, hustling you back inside the book-store.

He closed the door with a quiet click and you held your breath, listening as someone, possibly Bucky, came into the alley-way.

“That was close.” You mouthed.

Steve nodded and looked pointedly at the bag in your hand. His question was clear; had it been worth it? You carefully unzipped the satchel and revealed the contents safely ensconced within.

“Well then, time to strike a crushing blow to my enemy.” You cackled.

A loud bang outside undercut your evil laughter and you and Steve nearly tripped over yourselves to get further into the bookstore and to safety.

But you had your weapon, now you just needed one more thing and you would be ready for todays battle.

In the café next door. Bucky smiled easily, taking orders and pouring drink with an almost reckless joy. He was still riding high from yesterday but most of his joy came from knowing you were going to try again soon. He knew now that he could figure you out, so he wasn’t worried about losing.

When he saw you walk past the window he straightened his spine, eagerly waiting to see what you were playing at. It wasn’t until you walked straight past the door instead of coming in that he realised what was in your hand. You blatantly ignored him as you sauntered out of sight, towards Steve’s, sipping nonchalantly from the coffee cup in your hand.

You hadn’t used some ridiculous disguise, or sent Wanda or one of your friends in, but you had somehow obtained your drink regardless. He grit his teeth as you disappeared from his line of sight, no doubt laughing at your win.

He wasn’t going to stand for this. You couldn’t just send random strangers to order your drink and scurry back to you with it. There weren’t exactly rules in this game but that was still cheating. He waved an employee over with one hand as he pulled his phone out with the other.

Pressing your contact and taking a brief moment to laugh at the photo of you as on old man that was your contact photo, he put the phone to his ear. It only rang three times before you answered.

“Bucky! Nice to hear from you. To what do I owe the pleasure?” You greeted brightly.  

“You call that a victory, doll?” He scoffed.

“A delicious one.” You chuckled, taking a very loud sip.

“And an empty one. Sending someone in to get your coffee for you? I’m disappointed.” He mocked.

And he was. What was the point of this whole thing if you weren’t going to engage with him directly? The idea that you might just send people in to order for, never coming in yourself? That wasn’t good enough.

“Empty? No, it’s not. Because I know that every time somebody orders a latte you’re going to wonder if it’s for me. You’re going know that carefully crafted drink might end up in my hands, but you’re going to have to make it anyway. You’re going to have to hand it over and watch them walk out of the door with it, because you can’t risk denying them the drink just in case it’s not for me after all. Every single latte you pour for the rest of your life is going to make you paranoid, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” You cooed, your voice positively dripping with saccharine sweetness.

Shit.

You were right. With this new tactic you would worm your way into his mind with every customer, and he would be forced to do nothing except keep pouring the coffee anyway, wondering if you were going to be the one drinking it.

“Don’t worry doll, I’m not cruel like you. Every time I have one of your drinks I’ll be sure to let you know how much I enjoyed it.” You soothed viciously.

“You do that sweetheart, if it makes you feel like you’ve clawed some sort of victory out of this. But we both know it’s not just the coffee you want.” He said shrewdly.

You wanted back into the café, to sit there like before. You wouldn’t achieve that if you just sent people in for you. And he wasn’t going to just lift your ban, that would be too easy.

“You’re trying to goad me!” You accused.

“Yeah, and it’s working, isn’t it?” He taunted.

He knew more about you than he cared to admit, certainly more than he knew about any other regular customers. Two things he knew for certain? You were impatient, and you loved a challenge. You were absolutely one of those people who could never turn down a dare.

“Yeah, it’s working.” You muttered sullenly.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow doll.” He chuckled.

“Fine. Bye.” You sighed heavily. “Ya dick.” You uttered, a parting shot before you hung up on him.

He was relieved and wound up in equal measure, the conflicting feelings swirling around inside him.

“Hey, aren’t you going to the wholesalers tomorrow?” Sam asked.

He turned around to see Sam leaning against the counter, having been listening in and now making a very good point. He wouldn’t be here tomorrow.

“Shit.”

Next door, unaware of Bucky’s predicament, you were concerned with your own.

“How’s your latte?” Steve asked from behind the till.

“Disgusting.” You groaned, swanning past him and into the small kitchenette for employees only.

You popped the lid off it and poured it down the sink, glaring at the box of empty to go cups Sam had snuck out for you.

You’d drunk instant latte for nothing.

Chapter Text

It had been three days since Bucky had ripped the rug (chair) out from under you and there had been victory’s and losses on both sides. You had started strong, with Steve’s help of course and gotten a few digs in, but Bucky had come back strong. Yesterday… well, you were going to call that one a draw.

But today? Today was your day.

You needed it to be your day, not least because your editor had emailed you with some concerns. The latest male lead in your new piece didn’t quite live up to the expectations you’d set. According to your editor the blonde muscled lumberjack had sounded gorgeous and sweet but it all lacked chemistry. She’d said he sounded more like the female leads best friend than her lover.

You needed Bucky. So you planned and you plotted and it had taken hours but you had your plan and you couldn’t wait to enact it. Your excitement boosted you, making the subway ride to Brooklyn seem faster. It was with a spring in your step that you walked into Brooklyn Books, only to be met by Sam and Steve who had news.

“What do you mean Bucky’s not in the café today?” You shrieked.

No, no, no, no, no! This wouldn’t do at all. Yes, you could just swan around the café to your hearts content and spam him with selfies, but you’d been up all night planning your strike and it didn’t involve Bucky not even being there.

“I thought you’d be happy about this?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrow at you coolly.

He was sat behind the counter, waiting for his (real) customers to come in.

“How am I meant to defeat my enemy if my enemy isn’t even there?” You raged, pacing across the floor with all the pent up energy of an angry tiger.

“I could film you shot-gunning 10 consecutive lattes and send it to him?” Sam offered.

“There’s no way that smug, scheming dick doesn’t have a plan!” You seethed, ignoring the panicked looks Steve and Sam were giving you for some reason.  

“Oh, I do have a plan.”

Your shoulders tensed up so much they almost covered your ears and you gulped loudly, turning around in a slow whirl. Bucky was inches behind you, arms crossed across his chest.

“And, it’s a fool proof plan. Since I am surrounded by fools.” He added, throwing a dirty look at the men behind you.

“Shouldn’t you have left already?” Sam scoffed, unbothered by the insult.

“He should have.” Steve sulked.

“Well then, begone. The sooner you leave, the sooner I can thwart you.” You told him haughtily, raising your chin defiantly.

“Don’t worry, I’m going. I just needed to grab something before I left.” He smirked.

“What do ya need Buck?” Steve asked.

Bucky answered without taking his eyes off of yours.

“Her.”

By the time the word actually registered in your skull, it was too late. You spun around and made a dash for it but Bucky’s thick muscular arm wrapped around your waist, dragging you back.

“Help!” You squeaked, reaching out for Steve who just stood there uselessly.

Picking you up like you weighed nothing at all in an impressive show of strength, Bucky strode for the door with you held limp against his side.

“No, really! HELP!” You shrieked loudly, your limbs flailing everywhere.

The situation finally caught up to Sam and Steve but rather than rush to rescue you, they laughed!

“Well, that’s on way of keeping her out of the café.” Sam chuckled, waving at you as you screeched like a banshee and tried to kick your assailant.

“Barnes, put me the fuck down! You can’t do this! This is kidnapping! HELP! I’M BEING KIDNAPPED!”

“You’re not being kidnapped you drama queen. I have errands to run and you’re going to accompany me.” He snorted, easily prising you off of the doorframe you’d grabbed at.

Sam and Steve were guffawing loudly at your predicament, Bucky hadn’t so much as flinched at your struggle and the street outside was empty. This was happening, this was really happening.

“But I don’t wanna.” You whimpered, going limp in his hold.

“Tough luck doll. I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you so you’re not leaving my sight for the rest of the day.” He informed you smugly, carrying you across the street to what you assumed was his car.

“You could probably throw me quite far.” You harrumphed as he opened the passenger door and deposited you on the seat like you were a rag doll.

“True.” He agreed, reaching over you to click your seatbelt on.

His hair was tickling your nose as was the thick heady scent of coffee underlined with something sweet and warm.

“I’ve got it!” You snapped, tugging the seatbelt out of his hands.

He held his hands up in surrender and you had a split second to narrow your eyes at the black glove covering his metal hand before he backed out of the car and closed the door. He was hallway to the drivers side before you realised you didn’t actually have to put your seatbelt on, you could just get out of the car! You had one foot on the pavement when his voice drifted over to you.

“There’s a produce tasting event at the wholesalers. I need to go and try their new roasts, select what coffee I want to order for the café.”

You paused, half in the car and half out of it. He was kidnapping you so you couldn’t get into the café while he was away, and making you spend the day with him at…

“A coffee convention? Caffeine con?” You gasped, throwing yourself back into the car and slamming the door closed just as he slid into the drivers seat.

“Something like that. I assume you’re in?” He snorted.

“Bucky… of course I, your friend, would be happy to help you with your errands today!” You exclaimed, buckling your seatbelt and bouncing in your seat excitedly.

“I knew I could count on you, doll.” He scoffed sarcastically, rolling his eyes at your childish display of enthusiasm as you clapped your hands together.

“Coffee con! Coffee con! Coffee con! Coffee con!”

He started the car and pulled out of the parking pace, sighing heavily enough to be heard over you.

War could wait. You had errands to do!

Chapter Text

“Are we there yet?”

“No.”

“Will we be there soon?”

“God, I fucking hope so.” He groaned.

“Are we really going to a coffee con?” You pressed, curiously prodding at all the buttons on the dash.

“Where else would we be going?” He sighed, taking one hand off of the steering wheel to bat your hands away from the stereo.

“This could be a clever ploy to get me out of the city so you can dispose of my body.” You pointed out, glaring at him suspiciously.

“It could be.” He agreed, biting the inside of his lip to temper the amused smirk trying to break free.

“Buckyyyy, Are you going to murder me?”

“Don’t tempt me.” He snorted.

“Rude.” You scoffed, crossing your arms huffily.

Taking you to a coffee wholesalers was probably the absolute worst idea he had ever had. You were already hyper, he didn’t know if he or the city of New York could survive you being caffeinated.

“I’m not going to murder you, though I still haven’t ruled out abandoning you in the countryside.” He teased, watching you out of the side of his eye to make sure you were taking his words in jest.

“That’s less rude but still not nice.” You harrumphed.

“I’ll be nice if you be quiet.” He bargained.

“How nice?” You questioned, eyeing him speculatively.

“I won’t lock you in the car while I go to the coffee con.”

“That’s illegal!” You shrieked.

“I’d crack a window.” He grinned.

“You wouldn’t!” You whispered fearfully.

“Be quiet and you won’t find out.” He reminded.

You sank back into your seat, glaring at him with all the anger and hate a kitten might possess. He silently counted the seconds of silence while he weaved through the traffic. He got as far as 12.

“Are we there yet?”

“Does it look like we are there yet?!” He snapped.

“Maybe.” You shrugged.

“No! We are not there yet, we are in the middle of traffic, about to go over a bridge! We’ll get there when we get there.” He huffed, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Do you even know the way? Have you got a GPS?” You asked, oh so reasonably.

“I know how to get to the warehouse I’ve been to dozens of times, I don’t need the GPS.” He told you through gritted teeth.

“Maybe we could stop and ask for directions?” You suggested.

“I KNOW HOW TO GET THERE!”

He inhaled deeply through his nose, holding the breath in his lungs while he calmed himself.

Until he glanced to the side and saw the mirth on your face. You were deliberately winding him up, seeing how far you could push him.

“You’re such a brat.” He groaned.

“And you need to loosen up, you’re so tightly wound.” You sniggered, patting him on the shoulder to illustrate just how tense he was.

You nodded in approval and sat back with a pleased expression when you felt the tension in his muscles drain away under your touch, something that he had done unwittingly.

“Alright… we’re nearly there so here’s the deal. This event is for current and potential business owners to taste all their new blends. We get a tour of the warehouse, and yes, before you ask, there will be coffee tastings. Since your such a caffeine fiend you can help me with that side. But… you have to show some shred of restraint, and please, please don’t go running off.” He begged.

This had seemed like such a great idea this morning. You couldn’t pull any stunts at the café if you were with him, and the idea of having your company for the day had seemed like a pleasant enough idea when he thought of it. Reality had set in now though, and he felt his anxiety flare to life. Either this day was going to end in you giving yourself a heart attack, or you giving him one.

“I will be nothing but professional, and calm. I know how to conduct business, I’m not going to embarrass you.” You vowed solemnly.

He wanted to believe you, and you did look serious….

“Ok. Thank you.” He said gratefully, the knot in his chest loosening as he hit the turn signal and guided the car across the wholesalers car park.

“THEY HAVE A MASCOT!” You shrieked loudly, nearly deafening him.

You threw yourself out of the car before it had even fully rolled to a stop, sprinting off towards the poor employee who was stood at the door in the oversized coffee bean costume.

Well, at least you’d tried. For less than a minute. He shut off the engine, watching through the windshield as you skidded to a stop in front of the mascot. He couldn’t hear you but he just knew you were gushing excitedly, quickly charming the poor sod because in a few quick seconds you were hugging the coffee bean like you were long lost friends. He allowed himself one moment to smile fondly after you before he pulled himself together and got out the car.

“Bucky, take our picture!” You demanded when you saw him approaching, tossing your phone across the parking lot like a frisbee.

You were lucky his reflexes were as good as they were and he caught your phone in mid-air, rolling his eyes as you and coffee bean faced him, smiling expectantly. It was abundantly clear from the determination in your eyes that you would not be detaching yourself from your new friend until Bucky complied, so he held your phone up. The camera app was already open and he took the picture without argument, only shaking his head in disappointment as he handed your phone back to you.

“Welcome to The Furious Coffee Company Mr Barnes! We hope you enjoy todays event!” Coffee Bean exclaimed with far too much gusto and enthusiasm.

“Yeah, thanks kid, I’m sure I will.” He said politely.

Though if the way you were bouncing on the heels of your feet excitedly was anything to go by, you were going to enjoy yourself at least. Maybe he had made the right decision by bringing you after all.

“Here are your name tags, if you step through the doors you’ll find a tour guide to take you through the warehouse, or you can go directly onto the main floor and visit the many stalls.” Coffee Bean informed you both, handing a sticky label over.

He dutifully peeled his sticker off and pressed it over his chest, though why anybody who wanted to talk to them couldn’t let him just introduce himself he didn’t know.

“Bye Mr Coffee!” You exclaimed, rushing through the doors like a child at the gates of Disneyworld.

“Thanks.” Bucky sighed, nodding at the costumed kid and trailing after you.

You were standing just inside the doors, frozen still. He frowned and moved in front of you, briefly concerned, until he saw the wide-eyed wonder on your face.

“Bucky, the smell!” You sighed dreamily.

He chuckled under his breath, letting you enjoy the moment, but the white label on your chest had him drawing in a sharp breath and grinding his teeth.

“What’s wrong?” You frowned, following his line of sight.

You pulled your top out so you could read the scribbled name on your sticker while his face grew uncomfortably warm.

Mrs Barnes.

“Ooops. He asked for my name but I’m here with you so I just said ‘Barnes’.” You sniggered.

“I… I’m sorry. I’ll get you a new one.” He stammered apologetically.

“It’s fine, I don’t mind. Let’s just go in!” You brushed off impatiently, scarpering off in the direction your nose was leading you.

He tried to force his legs to move and go after you, but he was still frozen. He might be mortified you’d been mistaken for his wife but you didn’t share his concern. His mortification wasn’t of you, not at all. It was just a slightly awkward situation because you weren’t even a friend, not of his anyway. You were Sam’s friend.

So seeing his own name on you shouldn’t be making his heart beat as quickly as it was.

But it was just a innocuous mistake, a harmless little sticker. You hadn’t made a big deal out of it, so it was harmless.

“Bucky! Come on!” You whined, racing back over to him and sliding your hand into his.

His fingers instinctively wrapped around your hand and his legs finally woke up, following after you as you pulled him along. And when you looked over your shoulder, bright eyes meeting his and a sublime smile on your lips, there was nothing harmless about the butterflies that erupted in his stomach.

Chapter Text

There were rows upon rows of stalls, reaching as far as your eye could see. Each consisted of a reclaimed wood table covered in tiny little espresso cups, barrels of coffee beans, and photo’s and posters.

It was heaven. And a tad overwhelming.

“Where do we start?” You whispered, awestruck.

“Wherever you want, doll.”

You looked to the side, meeting his eyes. For once he didn’t look annoyed or tense. His expression was amused but his eyes were patient.

“Ok.” You grinned, biting your lip to try and temper the silly grin before it split your face in half.

You zoomed towards the nearest stall, tugging Bucky behind you. He hadn’t said anything about you holding his hand so you figured he didn’t mind, but in your haste to get inside you had unthinkingly grabbed his metal hand. You could feel the hardness of it underneath the leather glove, metal fingers gripping your own.

In the comfort of his café, he left his hand uncovered, unhidden. You were used to seeing it, often admiring the way the sun would glint off of it. He seemed to have adapted well to it, accepting it as part of himself. Or so you had thought. But if he was covering it up in public, maybe he didn’t want to draw attention to it. People could be rude, they could stare or be nosy and maybe he (understandably) didn’t want to put up with that. If you had two brain cells to rub together then you’d have been a little more respectful, and not just grabbed the metal appendage.

Alas, you were a moron.

As you approached the stall, you tried to hand the reins back over to him, loosening your grip until your hand was more or less limp in his. Now the ball was in his court, and if he didn’t want you touching it then he could let go without making a big deal out of it.

But he didn’t let go.

He kept his hand wrapped firmly around yours as he leant in to talk to the person manning the stall, and you were startled by it. If he felt your eyes studying him as he spoke, he didn’t show it, not that you’d be able to tear your eyes away if you tried.

You’d never seen Bucky this way before. He was always viewed through discrete glances across a busy room, a shining beacon in the distance. Now, he was right beside you, in your company alone for the day. You hadn’t realised that by kicking you out of the café, he was actually going to be closer.

You weren’t so annoyed by your ban anymore.

“Here.” He said, breaking through your thoughtful musings to pass you one of the little cups.

“Coffee!” You crowed softly, accepting it excitedly.

It was scalding hot, but worth the burn.

“Well?” He pressed.

“Hm, strong but not very bitter, It has a little bit of a nutty flavour, and it’s kinda sweet.” You decreed.

“Nutty and kinda sweet?” He repeated meaningfully, like there was some hidden joke you weren’t quite getting.

“Your wife has an excellent pallete.” The woman manning the booth complimented.

“She’s…. uh… thanks.” He stuttered, tugging you towards the next booth.

Oh. You’d brushed off the name label as a minorly amusing insignificant mistake but of course people were going to think it was real. Right now, as far as anyone was aware, you were Mrs Barnes. Because that wasn’t awkward.

“Let’s keep notes.” You decided, swallowing thickly  rummaging one-handed through your satchel for the notepad stuffed alongside your laptop.

“We can mark them out of 10 for flavour, strength and accuracy.” You suggested, peering back at the poster to check if it was supposed to be sweet and nutty.

So what if some strangers were going to assume you were Bucky’s wife? It was just for one day, and if it happened with anyone else it would be hilarious, so the butterflies in your stomach were over-reacting.

Regrettably, you had to remove your hand from his so you could scribble down your notes, checking for his approval before you began. He nodded distractedly, looking around the room.

“Are those chocolate covered coffee beans?” You gasped, spotting the treats at the next stall.

Before you’d even registered moving, you were standing at the table and staring at the man behind it with wide eyes. He said something, probably something important, but you only picked up two words.

“Help yourself.”

You didn’t hesitate to do just that, using the wooden scoop to gather up a generous pile of them. You poured them into your palm, giddily watching them tumble into your hand. You were utterly bespelled by them, almost in a trance as you raised your hand to your mouth. It was a bright moment, an moment filled with anticipation of immeasurable pleasure. Until Bucky’s fingers closed around your wrist, tugging your hand and your treasure away from your open mouth.

“Nooooooooo!” You whined, following your receding hand.

“You can’t eat a mouthful of coffee beans you idiot.” He grumbled, trying to get in between you and your own hand.

He had your arm pulled in front of his chest, the rest of your body pressed against his back as you tried to wriggle free.

“I can so!” You whimpered into his shoulder, trying to get your head under his arm.

“No. You. Can’t.” He huffed, spinning around in circles to keep you from getting to your hostaged appendage.

“Whyyyy?”

“You’ve got dozens more stalls to go to, it’s too much caffeine for one person!”

“You don’t know my limits!” You growled.

“I do know… did you just bite me?” He demanded, craning his neck to look back at you in disbelief.

You had.

“No.”

Right on the bicep, just a little nip.

“You’re feral!” He snarled, trying to prise your fingers open so you’d drop your candies.

“And you’re bossy, we all have bad qualities. Let go of me you psychopath!” You hissed.

“I’m a psychopath? You BIT me!” You retorted.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll half them with you.” You bartered.

He paused, looking back at you suspiciously.

“Open your hand, and I’ll let you go.” He finally agreed.

You begrudgingly did as he asked, opening your hand and letting him tilt some of your beans into his own palm. As soon as he released you, you snatched your arm back and scurried out of reach. You took shelter by the table, next to the employee who had gone an alarming shade of red.

“See what you did? You made a scene.” You snorted accusingly at Bucky.

“Eat your beans.” He ordered calmly, glaring at you.

You stuck your tongue out at him before you finally shoved the coffee beans in your mouth. And almost immediately gagged.

“Mmm, yummy.” You whimpered, shooting a pleading look at Bucky.

He rolled his eyes and strode over to you, grabbing your elbow and dragging you away from the stall with some hurried apologies to the employee.

“Ucky elp.” You winced.

“You are, without question, the biggest idiot I have ever met in my life, and I grew up with Steve Rogers.” He muttered, pulling you into a quiet corner of the room.

You dove into your bag, digging for a tissue. As soon as you found one you spat the offending monstrosities into it scraping your tongue clean.

“I really hope you learnt something from this.” He sighed.

“I did, I really did. Combining two of my favourite things won’t magically make one really amazing thing.” You bemoaned.

“You could have just tried one, not stuffed your face with them.”

“But Bucky! Chocolate and coffee! I can’t be blamed for thinking they would be great!”

You half expected him to bang his head against the wall, but he was just standing there, watching you. And the look in his eyes was so… soft.

“Do you really think I’m an idiot?” You asked.

“Oh, I know you’re an idiot.” He answered, but there was no bite to his tone.

“Then why bring me? Even if I had gone into the café, you aren’t there, so why doe sit matter?” You pressed.

“You… you aren’t the worst company in the world. And you do know your coffee.” He admitted.

“Did you want to spend time with me?” You gasped, reading between the lines and deliberately misinterpreting his words.

“No, that’s not what I…”

“You did!” You accused giddily.

It was fun, riling him up, seeing him so flustered.

“Yes. I wanted to spend time with you.” He admitted, his admission taking the wind out of your sails.

“Wait, you did?” You asked, frowning.

He nodded, a slight smirk playing on his face.

“But… what… why?”

Bucky only barely tolerated you, he didn’t like you. He was someone to admired from afar, a distant muse to fuel you. He wasn’t a friend, he didn’t want to be a friend.

Or did he? Were you about to actually, genuinely befriend THE Bucky Barnes? Would you be able to have whole conversations with him, be around him properly? Your heart raced at the idea.

“To see if I can figure out what the hell is wrong with you.” He said, his words popping your little bubble.

So much for that idea.

“You wanna know what’s wrong with me? Caffeine withdrawal. Let’s just get back to it.” You snapped, dramatically turning on your heel and flouncing away from him.

His amused chuckling followed close behind you, letting you know he was following, but you refused to turn around. You didn’t want him to see the disappointment in your eyes, because you’d actually thought the two of you were making progress for a moment.

Bucky watched you storm off, forcing himself to laugh and keep up the charade. There was nothing wrong with you, nothing at all. But he couldn’t tell you the truth, so he had to play it off. It was him that was all wrong.

Chapter Text

“How are you tired?!” Bucky demanded.

“M’not.” You mumbled.

“You can barely keep your eyes open. They’re closed now.” He accused.

He wasn’t wrong. You were upright and walking, but your eyes were closed. You had your arm linked through his, letting him guide you while your head lolled on his shoulder.

“You’ve had about 20 cups of coffee, you shouldn’t be tired. And you really shouldn’t be trying to nap while you walk.” He berated, shepherding you around something you would have otherwise walked into.

In your defence, it had been a very long day, and those cups of coffee had actually just been tiny little mouthfuls. In reality, you’d had about one full cup in all.

“Am fine. Just fine.” You muttered sleepily.

Cool air washed over you, alerting you that you were now outside. You cracked your eyes open, noting that it was already dark out. You’d really been tasting coffee blends and learning about coffee harvesting all day, and it had been the best day ever.

“No, we can’t leave yet! They had a merchandise stall, I wanna get souvenirs!” You whined, trying to about turn and go back inside.

“Nope, we’re leaving.” He said stubbornly, pulling you back towards the car park.

“But they had hats!” You protested.

He sighed wearily and held up the arm you weren’t attached to, showcasing the large bag in his hand.

“I figured you’d want the hat. And the shirt, and the little bear with the coffee cup, and the cafetiere, and the coffee samples.” He placated.

“Wait, you…”

“Consider it your fee for helping me today. Your rating system and your notes were invaluable, and you charmed that manager so much he promised me a great deal.”

All you’d done was commend the guy on his company’s product, albeit quite passionately. Aside from that you’d just tasted a lot of different coffee’s and declared your opinion, two things you did for free on a daily basis.

“Bucky, that’s really sweet of you. Thank you.” You whispered, hiding your face in his shoulder.

For someone who didn’t even really like you, he was incredibly kind. Aside from his teasing remark earlier, he’d been so sweet with you all day. And he seemed to take your opinions seriously.

“It’s nothing, doll.” He brushed off, unlocking the car.

He opened the passenger door for you and helped you climb inside, softly depositing your bag of presents on your lap. Before he could pull his hand away you reached out and grabbed it, gently wrapping your fingers around the metal appendage hidden under the leather glove.

What you were about to do could be crossing so many lines, but under the cover of darkness, with tiredness clouding your mind, and the gentle ache in your chest, you were moved to do it. Your fingers trailed up his wrist, dipping beneath his sleeve and brushing over the edge of the glove.

You looked up at him, standing there silently shocked while moonlight streamed down on him, and silently asked permission with your gaze. A sort of wonder danced across his face as he nodded shakily and you tugged the glove off his hand. He didn’t move as you tossed the glove onto the dashboard and took his hand in both of yours, cradling it as you knelt forward to gently press your lips to his knuckles.

“Thank you, for today. I know you just wanted to keep an eye on me, but we both know you could have found a lot of other ways to keep me out of the café. I’m glad you brought me along, I really am.”

“Me too, doll.” He said, pulling himself away and gently closing the door so he could cross to the drivers side.

There was nothing but honesty in his voice, and it rekindled hope in you. Hope that this amazing man, who was so sweet and patient when you got to know him, might let you in. You wanted so badly for him to let you in.

“Where do you live?” He asked as he got in and started the car.

You told him your address, snorting a laugh at his disbelieving confusion.

“That’s nowhere near the café!”

“I know. I get the subway, there’s a station a couple block away, you can just drop me there.” You laughed.

“No chance. I’ll take you home, doll. Not letting you get the Subway alone at this time of night.” He decreed, pulling out of the car park.

“You sound like Steve.”

“Steve knows where you live?” He asked sharply.

“Steve and Sam both do. They’ve been over for dinner before. Only on nights Wanda cooks though. Pietro and I can’t cook, and everyone’s too sensible to tell Nat she can’t cook either.” You explained.

Your friends had all been to the café before, he knew them, but not well. He really didn’t know very much about your life, and you didn’t know much about his. You knew he was a veteran, that he and Steve had grown up together, that Sam had served with them. Everything you really knew about Bucky you only knew because it coincided with his friends.

“Can you cook?” You asked suddenly, jumping on the opportunity to get to know him better.

“Better than Steve, not as well as Sam. My ma taught me how to look after myself properly, made sure I knew how to cook and clean.” He shrugged.  

“Good on her. And you. Did she like coffee?” You wondered.

“She liked it fine, especially in the mornings. That’s not why I opened a café.” He grinned, side-eyeing you to let you know he saw through your ‘innocent’ questioning.

“Couldn’t get a decent cup of coffee anywhere overseas, no matter how badly I needed it. One of the first things I promised myself over there was that when I came home, I would never drink shitty coffee again. It just became something I held onto, kept me going. The thought of coming home and drinking coffee. I started reading up on different types, how they’re grown. My sister Becca would ship me books on it, and I got into it. When I finally came home, it seemed natural to go into the business. Sam wanted to work in the kitchen, Steve always loved his books and art… A guy we met overseas owns the building and rents it to us at a generous rate. I fell into it, but I don’t regret it.”

Underneath the wistfulness you could hear the traces of pain in his voice. Your heart clenched painfully at the thought of Bucky in a warzone, focusing all his energy on a simple hope, something to look forward to when he came home.

“It’s a natural fit. You’re good at what you do, and I don’t just mean the coffee. The whole café, it’s perfect.”

“Is this the part where you try and get me to let you back in?” He scoffed.

“Well we both know it’s only a matter of time before I find my way back anyway…” You teased.

“Is that so? You going to impersonate more pensioners?”

“You’re not going to trick me into revealing my plans.” You told him, tapering off into a yawn.

“Alright, keep your secrets, doll.” He allowed, smiling softly at you.

You nuzzled down into your seat, trying to stay awake. It was easier said than done. The smooth rolling of the car around you, the light passing by the window, the safe and fuzzy feeling in your chest, it beckoned you into a half awake/half-asleep state. You felt like you’d been silent for maybe a minute, but between one blink and the next you’d gone from Brooklyn to…

“This is my street.” You mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

“I know.” Bucky said, tapping the GPS on the dashboard.

It hadn’t been there a second ago, further proof that you had dozed off. He rolled to a stop outside your apartment block, the light’s from Wanda and Pietro’s living room beckoning you home.

“Come inside? I mean, do you want to?” You asked him, unbuckling your seatbelt.

He looked straight ahead, fingers flexing on the steering wheel.

“No, you go home, doll.” He eventually responded.

“Ok. I’ll leave the coffee chronicles with you.” You sighed, pulling your bag onto your lap.

In the dim light of the car you couldn’t see what you were doing, and just started pulling stuff out your bag until you found what you were looking for. A derisive chuckle made you look over at Bucky, who was staring at the magazine in your hand.  

“What?” You frowned.

“You spend half your time hanging out in a bookshop and yet you still choose to read trashy magazine’s?” He snorted.

“Ohh.” You groaned, letting your head thump back against the headrest. “And it was going so well.” You sighed.

You could feel the befuddlement coming from him. You were once again reminded that you and Bucky barely knew each other at all.

“You have no idea what I do for a living, do you?” You asked him, tilting your head to the side to look at him.

“You… you’re a novelist?” He frowned, but you could see it in his eyes. He knew he’d fucked up.

“I write romantic short stories for a woman’s publication. I write, for this trashy magazine.” You laughed humorously. “ I give people five minutes of cheesy fluff in their days, just a few moments where they can live in a fairy tale and escape the real world. You might think that’s trash, Barnes, I think it’s magic.”

“Shit. Doll, I didn’t mean…” He started to say.

“It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t looking for your stamp of approval anyway.” You scoffed, finding your notebook and tearing the pages out of it.

“Here.” You slammed them down on the dashboard.

“Wait, no, wait. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to offend you.” He pleaded.

“What, you’re gonna take it back now? Just because you finally figured out what I do for a living? At least stick to your convictions Barnes.” You snapped, piling out of the car.

You faltered before you could close the door. The bag of Coffee merchandise was in your hand, and you didn’t know what to do with it. You didn’t want to be petty and give it back, but you had just fallen out with him. You didn’t know what the social rules of human interaction said was the right thing to do in this situation. You made the mistake of looking at him, at the regret on his face.

“It’s all right. I know you didn’t mean any harm by it Bucky, truly.” You said softly, indignation melting away.

“I really didn’t.”

“Don’t give it another thought. I’ll see you around.” You told him, closing the car door before he could get another word in.

You heard your name being called, but you kept walking, not stopping until you were inside the building. You felt more tired than ever, this time in your soul. Today had been a rollercoaster of emotions, several times the ride had almost stopped in a place of hope. Hope that in the dimly lit corridor of your apartment block, you finally admitted the truth about.

You may, possibly, maybe, kinda, have… feelings. For Bucky. Feelings that went a little beyond friendship, and feelings that would never amount to anything. He barely tolerated you, and every time you thought you were making headway with him, you were pushed even further back.

You wearily climbed the stairs to your floor, unlocking the main door and leaning against it when your phone vibrated in your bag. Fishing it out, your groaned when you saw who it was from.

Prints Harry: We’re about to go to print, I need to know if you still want me to run the add?

In all the commotion of the day, you’d forgotten your brilliant plan to get back into the café this morning. You’d tried to play it smart, to drop the childish tricks for five minutes. Bucky had said he was worried your addiction would give the café a bad rep, and even though you knew he wasn’t being serious, you’d decided to do something to appease his fears. You’d called in a couple of favours at the office and offered a couple more, all to clear up a full page add for the next issue. You’d thought it was a fair trade off, a decent way to win. Free add space in one of the city’s most popular ‘trashy’ magazines in exchange for allowing you back on the premises.

You: Run it.

So what if Bucky didn’t approve of you? Most people didn’t, he wasn’t special. You’d always planned to run the add, regardless of how today played out. You’d already run it by Sam and he was 100% on board. Nothing had changed. Besides, even if Bucky didn’t want to be your friend, if your personalities didn’t mesh well together, you couldn’t help but care about him.

You kicked open the front door quietly, padding into yours and Nat’s side of the apartment. She was sprawled across the armchair by the window and looked up as soon as you came in, her eyes narrowing in concern. Before she could even ask, you shook your head. Understanding dawned on her face and she stood up, crossing the room gracefully to grab take-out menus from the fridge door. You dropped your bags next to the coffee table and sank onto the couch, Nat settling beside you and dropping the leaflets in your lap.

“I’ll text Wanda to pick a movie, and Piet can go get the food. You just relax Kotonok.” She instructed, tugging you from a sitting position until you were lying down with your head in her lap.

“Thanks Natty.” You sighed softly, gratefully.

There were people in your life who accepted you just the way you were, who knew you well enough to give you what you needed. Because that’s what family did, regardless of blood ties or circumstance, family were the people who knew you and loved you not in spite of it, but because of it.  

From the moment he opened the café, once again Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes away from the door. He was more impatient than ever to see you walk through it, not because he wanted thwart you, but because he wanted to apologise. He had never meant to insult you or to look down on you. When he had commented on the magazine in your bag it hadn’t been judgemental, but the opposite. He thought it was amusing that you would read Greek tragedies or classic literature one day and magazine articles the next. It was you all over, so delightfully paradoxical. The childish adult, the idiot savant. To him it had just been another of the countless things that made you so wonderful, so bright and alive.

Since the day he had signed up for service, life had just been about surviving. Surviving a warzone, and coming home and surviving as a civilian. Then this hyper-active little buffoon had waltzed into his shop and he remembered that living and surviving weren’t the same thing. Watching you prance about, doing whatever popped into your head without care of consequence, always living in the moment, never letting other people’s opinions touch you… He liked that you only used a handful of braincells, and an abundance of heart. He liked that you would rather be ridiculous to the right people than admired by the wrong ones. All your energy and your spirit had been like a missing puzzle piece to him, inspiring him to try and move beyond just simple survival.

You had given him a taste for life once again.

“Sam.” He called, giving up on waiting and swallowing his pride to ask someone who might know more.

Sam wandered out of the kitchen at his beckoning, carefree attitude melting into concern when he saw the dark bags under Bucky’s eyes.

“Have you seen her today?” Bucky pleaded, not having to specify who he meant.

It felt awkward to ask. Sam was smitten by you, but so was Steve. Maybe there was truth to Sam’s claims that there was nothing more than friendship. Sam was the kind of person who would offer friendship to anyone with even a shred of kindness in them, and you were the kind of person who made everyone around you smile.

“You’re still playing this game of wits? Kinda hoped yesterday would have helped you pull your head out of your ass.” Sam sighed.

“I…” Bucky swallowed thickly, shame brewing inside him. “Did you know, about her job?”

“Of course I knew. What did you think she was doing all this time? Why did you really think she came here Bucky?” Sam asked with a deep, probing look of sympathy.

“It’s a café, people always come to cafes to write the next bestseller. I just thought she was - I mean - I never asked.” He bemoaned.

Before a few days ago he never spoke to you at all, beyond taking your order and exchanging pleasantries. Everything he knew about you he knew from watching you, catching snippets of conversations with others.

“And now that you do know?” Sam pressed.

“It doesn’t change anything.” Bucky sighed.

He’d already blown it, crushed up the seeds of any kind of any friendship before they could bloom.

“Really?” Sam asked derisively. “This was damn flattering, made me sound incredible, and it’s not even close to her best work.” He continued, pulling his wallet out and flipping it open.

He handed a folded up piece of paper to Bucky, a page torn from a magazine. ‘A Recipe For Love’, a fluff filled short piece about a man with ‘kind eyes that soothed even the most tortured of souls and a smile that warmed even the coldest of hearts’ who spent months crafting the perfect dish for the love of his life.

It was filled with prose, words blending together to form art. Emotions were crafted into the letters, bleeding through every word. It was… well, it was good. Really good actually. Almost made him start pining after Sam himself.

Because that’s who this was for, this story. It was for Sam.

This was why you were so attached to this café and not any other. Because you could sit here and be inspired by the man who had captured your heart, you could compose your literary show of affections for him.

“She’s got talent, not arguing that.” Bucky huffed, shoving the paper back into Sam’s hands while his stomach tangled up painfully.

If that wasn’t even your best work then he didn’t want to read any more. He didn’t think he could handle it. You were clearly head over heels for his best friend, and he had almost started to convince himself otherwise. He’d let unwarranted longing start to flood his chest, and it was utterly futile.

“She’s incredible, but even the greatest artists need their muses. She’s as good as who she writes about, because she takes all the emotion of hers and pours it into her stories.” Sam beseeched, unaware he was rubbing salt into Bucky’s wounds.

You and Sam, it was more than just some little flirtations, more than a crush. And he’d already betrayed both of you by… Well it didn’t matter what he’d done, because it was over now. It had to be.

But, it wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t that simple. He couldn’t stop the butterflies in his stomach, because they woke up whenever you were close by. To the rest of the world he could pretend he wasn’t utterly smitten with you, but he couldn’t fool himself. He’d know it was a lost cause the second you had tugged his glove off and kissed his prosthetic hand. You didn’t see it as an aberration, or a curiosity, just a part of him to be accepted like all the rest. It was in that moment that he had realised his little affections for you were in no way little, they never had been.

And if anyone else figured out how he felt about you, if you found out… It could drive a wedge between you and Sam, because you were two of the kindest people he knew and you would both balk at causing him any potential pain.

Bucky couldn’t have you, because you weren’t his to have. He couldn’t save his own heart in this situation, but he could protect yours, and he could protect his friend. Even if it meant he had to be the bad guy.

“Look, you want to be friends with her, be my guest. You can spend all the time in the world with her outside of here, hell, let her in the kitchen. But I’m not lifting the ban. It’s just not a good idea to have her in here Sam.” He sighed, masking his disgust at his own words behind a stubborn façade.

“I thought you liked her man, I really did.” Sam told him guilty.

“I don’t dislike her. I just don’t feel strongly about her at all.” Bucky lied.

He could see the sadness in Sams eyes, and he felt horrendous for it. But it was nothing compared to the pain he’d cause if he had to be around you all the time, because he’d slip up if that happened. Sooner or later, he’d show his true feelings and it would fuck everything up.

“Understood. I’ll… Steve and I will keep her and the café separate, we’ll keep her away from you. But we’re not going to cut her out, she doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t deserve any of this.” Sam told him firmly.

“No, she doesn’t.”

That much was true at least. You didn’t deserve this at all. You deserved so much more, and this was how he could give it to you.  

Chapter Text

Your bedroom door slammed open, rebounding off of the wall and coming back to nearly smash the intruder in the face. Utterly ignoring your presence, Pietro swanned into your room like he owned the place, his sights set on the piles of books across the floor. Not your bookshelves, where all the great books were, but the smutty romance novels. There was a certain amount of glee on his face as he delved through them, lips mouthing the words as he read the blurbs.

“So, this is what you do when I’m not here?”

At the sound of your voice he jumped so high he nearly hit the ceiling fan.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded, hand over his heart like an old lady clutching her pearls.

“Uh, it’s my room?”

“It’s after lunchtime!” He pointed out, poking the duvet judgementally.

“So what, that’s my foot, I wanted a lie in.” You grumbled.

“You’re normally at the café.” He pouted.

“The café that I’m not allowed in?” You scoffed.

“I thought you were on some ‘perilous quest’ to get back in?” He asked suspiciously.

“I’m giving up on the café and moving onto greener pastures.”

“Are those pastures hidden under your duvet?” Pietro snorted.

“Bitch, they might be. Matter of fact, I’m going to launch an expedition right now.” You announced, burrowing under the covers.

An extremely heavy weight settled on your legs.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” You dissented, your voice muffled by the blankets.

“Something clearly happened. You don’t give up easily sestra.” He chided.

“Leave me alone you smut-stealing pest.” You groaned.

“It’s the only romance I’m seeing these days, don’t judge me.”

“I’m not judging you. I would never judge someone for what they read.” You muttered bitterly.

You weren’t mad at Bucky. Really. You weren’t. And you weren’t hung up on his opinion either. What you were was a little sad that you and he were just so different. So incompatible.

It was like finding the perfect home and then realising it was wildly out of your price range, or seeing the most delicious looking burger you had ever laid eyes on and finding out you were allergic. Only, it was worse than just that. You had been picking out the curtains, fasting to prepare for the meal, and then reality had set in.

You wanted to mourn, but there was really nothing to mourn. He was a man you barely even knew and nothing had ever happened between you. So were just left with a distant ache in your chest, somewhere just north of actual heartbreak, an no way to heal. How can you move on from a place you never were? How do you get closure for something that was never opened up?

“Will you tell Wanda what is wrong? Or shall I have her read your cards?” Pietro pushed, or more like threatened.

“Absolutely not. You tell nobody that anything is wrong.” You hissed, emerging from under the covers like a hissing sea beast rising from the depths of the ocean.

“So something is the matter?” He crowed victoriously.

“If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll tell everyone about your reading habits. Worse than that, I’ll tell Natasha you snuck into my room to steal my shit.” You warned.

“I’m leaving.” He said quickly, jumping off of the bed like a coked-up kangaroo.

“Wait! Can you get me a drink? M’thirsty.” You yelled after him.

A few seconds passed while you waited for a response and you got one in the form of a hand reaching around the door to throw a bottle in your general direction.

“Thank you!” You called before you slumped back down onto the pillows, twisting the water bottle open and guzzling from it.

You didn’t want to talk to anyone about this, because you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know how to explain it to anyone. You didn’t know how to explain it to yourself.

‘Ok guys, I’m sad because I have been slowly falling in love with Bucky but I didn’t really figure that out until last night when I realised that he and I would never even be friends.’

How did you reconcile these emotions that you had been feeling for so long, only realising they were there when it became obvious that they were pointless.

The answer hot you like a hammer to the face. You reconciled it the same way you reconciled every other feeling you ever had. With the most effective form of catharsis you knew.

Writing.

Then drinking. But first, writing.

You pulled your laptop onto you lap and opened an empty word document, chewing your lip as you thought about what to type. You’d been writing about your own romantic feelings for months, but under a shroud. You didn’t want to do that now, you didn’t want to hide. You wanted to purge it, lay it all out, thrust it into the world. You wanted to let the wounds bleed, so they could start to heal.

For the first time since this had all began, since the first time you had met Bucky, you wanted honest with yourself. So that’s what you wrote.

Koi No Yokan

Can you fall in love with someone before you even know them? Is it possible to love a stranger, falling deeper every time you see them? There was once a time in my life that I would have said no, it’s not possible. Infatuation is not love, and desire is only a shade of what love is supposed to be. Cliché’s used to be tired old tropes to me, until I discovered that a cliché is often an experience that has been lived by so many people, it leaves its mark on the heart of humanity.

I didn’t believe in clichés, until the first time I saw him. Until the first time I walked into a bustling little café, and I saw him there. Until I looked into those stormy eyes and I saw so much pain, tired, soul-crushing pain that was only overshadowed by the kindness in his gaze. I knew then that I was going to love him one day, I knew it with absolute certainty.

This is the story of how I fell in love with James.

You wrote out everything, every single unspoken thought, every unfulfilled desire, every moment that could have been a moment. You wrote the truth of it all, and cut away the tragedy of all it wasn’t. No lies, no allegories, no thinly veiled references. You told the story that never happened, the romance that never blossomed. The story of James, and the woman who loved him.

Because you hadn’t loved him back then, but deep down you had known it would happen.

And you were right.

Chapter Text

You hadn’t spoken in several minutes, too focused on staring at your lap while you waited for him to talk. He was taking his time with it, idly reading a letter that you were almost 100% certain wasn’t important at all. It was a power move, something he liked to do to see how long it would take you to break. Normally you couldn’t even last a full minute before you started blabbering, or playing wastepaper basket-ball. Today was not a day for playing games though, today was a day for taking every blessed second of silence to try and calm your churning emotions.

“I got an extremely interesting email from you this morning.” He finally announced, startling you.

“I know, I wrote it.” You shrugged.

“I figured, Still, I was hoping I could call you in here so you’d tell me your email was hacked.” He sighed, sitting back in his seat and studying you.

“You know, when you first started here you had potential but you were unrefined. Our editors had to work double time to fix that first piece you submitted. But by your second piece, you had already improved. You would re-read the revised pieces and learn from your mistakes, and that set you apart. That’s why I offered you a full-time position, because you’re not just talented, you’re a good learner.” He told you, paying you what was possibly the first compliment he had ever given you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what your point is?” You frowned.

“I’m disappointed to see you making such an egregious mistake now.”

“With all due respect, Mr Laufeyson…”

“Loki. You’re resigning, and I’m not your editor-in-chief anymore. Call me Loki.” He insisted, giving up the air of professionalism as he stood up and crossed the room to the oak table on the other side and opened the bottle of very expensive scotch.

In the early hours of this morning, with Natasha quite literally holding your hand, you had sent in your official resignation. Thankfully your contract allowed it, so long as you provided them a sufficient story for the next issue while they searched for your replacement.

“Loki… This isn’t a mistake. I have loved working for you, and writing felt like finally finding my thing, but I think I’ve taken this as far as I can. I don’t want to write romance anymore. I don’t know what I do want to write, I don’t know what stories I want to tell, I just know what stories I don’t want to tell.” You sighed, sipping politely at the glass of amber liquid  he passed you.

“You want to move over to gossip?” He offered blankly.

“Not really my style.” You snorted.

“Health and lifestyle don’t have an opening but I could make one for you…” He tried.

“Mr… Loki, I’m sorry but no thank you.” You winced.

“Help me understand this, because I don’t. You rose up quickly at this publication, and you have enough respect to demand a well-paid position in any department you wish. If there’s a reason you aren’t happy here then tell me, and let me see if I can fix it, but don’t throw away all your hard work and improvement.”

You honestly had no idea that he even knew your name. You always assumed he only remembered you because his secretary reminded him. You were flattered, but it didn’t make a difference.

“I’m a storyteller. But I don’t think I can write happy little fluff pieces anymore. I want something with more.. life, something more alive. I want to write stories that I believe in, stories that don’t shy away from all the bad stuff in the world, but help people understand them and give hope.”

Writing the true story of you and Bucky had shown you the missing piece of your chosen artform. You didn’t want sugary sweet happy endings anymore, you wanted to keep telling the truth. With metaphors, yes, little more magic and adventure, of course. But you wanted it to have more realism in it, real struggles, you wanted happy endings to be fought for and earned. You didn’t want to sell people the idea that they would meet the perfect person and just fall in love and live happily ever after. You wanted to show them that obstacles could be overcome and sadness could be overcome.

Because it was something you needed to believe yourself.

“So there’s nothing I can say to change your mind?” He sighed heavily.

This was your last chance to back out, to stay on steady ground instead of hurtling yourself into the unknown. The last time you’d taken a leap of faith, you hadn’t been alone. You and Natasha and Clint had all taken the leap together. But this one was on you, and you alone. If you took this path then you would be waling alone, with no idea of the journey ahead or the destination.

“I’ve made my decision Loki. This chapter of my life is over.”

Bucky was equally relived and annoyed when he finally locked the café for the day. Relived because the day was over and he could wipe away the fake smile he’d plastered on for his customers, annoyed because it was the second day in a row you hadn’t shown. He’d been on edge all day, waiting for you, waiting for you to try and come in. He didn’t want to have that conversation but he wanted it over with, instead of living in fear of it. But you hadn’t shown.

“You look terrible.” Steve announced as soon as Bucky crossed the threshold of Brooklyn Books.

“You’re such a charmer, Rogers.” Bucky scoffed.

“No, really, you look like you haven’t slept.” Steve frowned, concern etched across his face as he looked up from the cash he was supposed to be counting.

He hadn’t, he hadn’t slept at all. He’d tossed and turned all night, wondering why life hated him so much. Every time he closed his eyes he saw you and Sam, he was treated to snapshots of the life you two were going to have together. Sam’s arm around your waist, your smile just for the man at your side. He saw flashes of things he knew he would have to bear witness to, things that would kill him inside. You in a white dress, walking towards Sam, a child with Sams eyes and your smile…

“I’m fine, really.” He said smoothly, getting used to the taste of the lie on his tongue. It was one he would have to tell for the rest of his life.

“Buck…”

“I’m not having nightmares. Everybody has nights where they just can’t sleep, let’s not make a big deal of it.” He cut Steve off.

“Does this have anything to do with yesterday?” Steve pressed, side-stepping Bucky’s bullshit with practiced ease.

“If I admit that it does, will you drop it? Please?” He sighed.

“Alright, fine. We won’t talk about.. her, but don’t think that means I approve of what you’re doing.” Steve warned.

“Noted.”

“I mean she’s such a great gal Bucky, I don’t get it. I really thought…”

“Alright, I’m going to wait at the pizza place for you.” Bucky snapped, leaving Steve to close up by his damn self.

He didn’t want to hear about how amazing you were, or how you deserved so much more kindness from him. He already knew it all. He didn’t want to talk about you, didn’t want to think about you, didn’t want to storm out of the bookstore and nearly crash into you…

“Oh. Hi.” You gasped.

“H..Hi. I was just…” He awkwardly waved towards the road, stepping around you.

But you tried to step around him at the same time and you just ended up blocking each other.

“Sorry.” You winced.

“No, it’s my fault, I… are, are you alright?” He asked in concern.

He could clearly see that you weren’t. Your eyes had the distinct bloodshot and raw look of someone who had been crying, and your arms were wrapped around your body like you were trying to curl in on yourself.

“Do you care?” You sighed wearily.

There was no bite to your question, just an exhausted sadness.

“Of course I do.” He said without stopping to think about it.

Stop it. This is dangerous. Just let her go to Steve, he’ll take care of her. It’s not your place.

“Well this is probably good news to you, but as of today, I am unemployed.” You scoffed.

That made no sense. He’d read one of your stories, according to Sam it wasn’t even one of the better ones. You were talented, far too talented to be fired.

“Doll, I…”

“I resigned. Gave them one last story to print, but I’m done. I.. don’t know what the hell I’m going to do, but I couldn’t do that anymore.” You told him, breathing erratically.

He didn’t know what had gone down, why you had made the choice you had, but he could see it was hitting you now. You were on the brink of spiralling. The best thing he could do for you right now would be to let you go to Steve and Sam, to step away from you and let you seek comfort from your friends. But he couldn’t move.

You were hurting, and he couldn’t stand it.

Don’t do it. Do not do this. Stop, now, before it goes to far.

“You look like you could use a cup of coffee.” He stated, holding up the Café keys in an offer.

Your eyes widened in shock and you shook your head almost imperceptibly. But then you looked at him, really looked at him, and something in your eyes softened and then you were nodding at him, agreeing.

“I… It couldn’t hurt, right?” You asked.

It will hurt, it’s going to hurt like hell.

“Come on.” He said softly, ushering you towards the café where he unlocked the door.

He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. You needed someone, and he couldn’t bring himself to fob you off onto someone else. When you stepped inside the café, he closed the door behind you, leaving the sign turned to closed.

“Why are we doing this Bucky?” You asked, your brow furrowed up as you looked around the café you were supposedly banned from.

Because I’m head over heels for you and I have no sense of self preservation.

“You look like you need a friend, doll.”

Chapter Text

“So all I had to do to get back in here was cry? I could have saved myself so much effort if I just broke out the waterworks.” You joked weakly, tentatively perching yourself on your usual chair.

“I’m not a monster, most of the time… Besides, Café’s closed so you’re not really circumventing your ban.” He said as he set about making your coffee, his hands reaching for the right ingredients automatically.

Like with all customers who came in regularly enough, fulfilling your order was second nature to him.  With you it was more to do with not being able to think straight when you were around, so he always had to rely on muscle memory.

“This is just coffee, with a friend.”

“Exactly.” He agreed, thankful that he had his back to you so you couldn’t see the pain on his face.

But you went ahead and stated the truth anyway, cutting through the flimsy shroud of bullshit, obliterating the hastily constructed deceptions.

“But we’re not friends.” You whispered softly, and he couldn’t tell if that was regret or resignation in your voice.

Whatever it was, it cut deep.

“We…” He started to say, catching himself in time.

Don’t say ‘we could be friends’. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Don’t set yourself up to fail.

“You mean a lot to two of the most important people in my life. Besides, it’s the least I owe you after the other day, after what I said.” He said apologetically, finishing up your drink and taking it over to you.

“You mean when you insulted my entire career?” You scoffed, before you remembered your current situation with a wince, “My former career.” You corrected.

You looked so lost, sitting there. You had the look of somebody who had just had the rug ripped out from under them and didn’t know which way to turn. He put the latte down in front of you and forced himself to sit at the other side of the table, keeping his hands in front of them. If he didn’t, he’d reach for you. It took everything he had not to reach for you.

“I didn’t mean to insult you, doll. Especially after I saw how much your job meant to you. I’ll admit that I never gave that sort of thing any consideration before but you were right, the worlds a pretty horrid place sometimes but you were taking people away from it for a few minutes. Which makes me wonder why exactly you quit?” he asked gently.

“Don’t say quit. I resigned. There’s a difference.” You winced.

“Is there?”

“Yeah, whether you leave on good terms or not. I left on good terms.” You sighed.

“Why did you leave though?” He pressed.

It wasn’t his business, but he had to know. He had to know if he was even partially responsible. More importantly, he needed to find a way to help you be confident in your decision or find a way to take it back, whatever would get rid of the fear in your eyes.

“Giving people five minutes of escapism is a beautiful thing, and it’s important! I just want to do a little more than that I guess. I want to write something that stays with people longer than the time it takes them to read it. I want to write something that gives them a sense of hope that they can take back to the real world when they leave the story.” You explained.

He swallowed thickly, your words spinning around in his head. There were layers to your personality that kept unravelling, revealing more and more to be admired. Every time he thought his affections had reached their peak, you showed him something else that had him falling further.

You’re already in too deep, you can’t afford to fall anymore.

“And maybe I just don’t want to write romance anymore. Maybe I feel like a hypocrite when I sell a happy ending, cause I can’t even keep my own heart safe.” You whispered into your cup, swigging the coffee like it was something stronger.

Crashing waves of emotion slammed into him, one after the other, relentless. Guilt, shame, concern, and bitter hope. It was the hope that broke him apart. You and Sam hadn’t found your way together yet, something that was causing you pain. Bile crawled up his throat as he smothered the inappropriate yearning that was a betrayal to Sam, and to you.

“There are things in life that are so difficult, but love is one of the few that is worth the effort. It don’t come easy and it hurts more than it should, but that’s no reason to give up.” He told you, aware of his own hypocrisy.

But everything he said was true. Love was worth the effort, it was worth the pain. What he didn’t say was there was more than one way to love someone. Sometimes loving someone meant not getting in the way of their happiness. Love could be hiding your own heart so you didn’t make things complicated for a loyal friend.

“You so rarely think about something before you do it, doll. Gets you in trouble more often than not, but it is so brave. Don’t start overthinking now, not when it’s this important.” He advised, tentatively reaching across the table to put his hand over yours.

Sam was like a brother to him, an annoying one, but still a brother. Their bond had been forged in battle and blood and it was unbreakable. He would never, ever, do anything to risk Sam’s happiness. And with you, anyone would be happy. With you anyone would know love, kindness, loyalty, hope, and adventure. If anyone deserved to be loved by someone so passionate and fun, it was Sam Wilson.

Even if he stood a chance with you, he would never take it. He might lo… like you, but you felt nothing for him. All his secret feeling would do would make you and Sam feel guilty and pity him. The two of you didn’t need that kind of poison infecting the foundation of your love.

“Bucky…” There was a lot of disbelief in your expression, which was fair. You probably expected that he would be the last person to encourage you.

“There’s a happy ending out there for you, I promise. Your heart is gonna be just fine, doll.” He swore.

You were speechless, staring across at him in wonder.

And then you were moving and he didn’t quite realise what was happening until you were right in front of him. He didn’t move, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t even think. Your hand was on his shoulder and you were leaning in and oh god he couldn’t think.

His heart swelled, his pulse thundering, building to a crescendo as your lips reached his. Everything inside him seemed to move faster, but the world melted into slow motion as you moved in to kiss him.

For the briefest of moments, though it seemed like an eternity, he almost let you. Your lips almost brushed against his, and then his chair was clattering to the floor as he threw himself back, stumbling to his feet and backing away from you as the world sped up rapidly until the bubble popped and normal time resumed.

His chest was heaving, oxygen nowhere to be found as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Fuck. I’m so sorry.” You babbled, absolutely horrified.

You’d been about to kiss him. You were about to kiss him. He couldn’t take advantage of your fear and upset like that. You had just made a huge, life-changing decision. You’d still had tears drying on your lashes when he ushered you into the café. You were scared, lost, and had reached for him because he was there. He couldn’t let you make that mistake. 

“I’m sorry.” You said again, stumbling towards the door in a daze.

“Doll, wait. Please.” He pleaded, catching a hold of your wrist and stopping you from rushing out of the door.

“Look, I read it. Your stories… I know why you come in here, I know about your feelings.” He said quickly, before you could tug your arm free and flee.

“What?” You gasped, freezing where you stood.

“I can’t kiss you. I just can’t. This.. this is all wrong, it can’t happen.” He whispered regretfully.

“Let go of me.” You demanded, your voice utterly devoid of emotion.

“I’m sorry, I just… I can’t do that to… “

“I get it! I understand. Just let go of me.” You snapped, the words trailing off into a heart wrenching sob.

He released you, watching forlornly as you ran for the door, wrenching it open and escaping. Leaving him alone with nothing but the receding sounds of your sobs, and weight of his heart crumbling in his chest.

Chapter Text

“I’ll kill him.”

“What for? Daring to not reciprocate my feelings? It’s not his fault Nat, and it’s not like he was cruel about it. He’s done nothing wrong.” You sighed tonelessly.

You’d cried yourself out, there was no emotion left in you. The unbearable heavy weight of the white hot shame and embarrassment that you had carried home had brought you to your knees as soon as you crossed the threshold of your home. The tears that had been choking you the whole time you’d sat in backseat of the cab had erupted with an almost violent ferocity as you slid to the floor as soon as the front door closed. That had been how Natasha had found you, head pressed to your knees, sobbing your broken heart out until there was nothing left inside you. The tears had lasted long into the night, until you had passed out from exhaustion, curled around Nat like a cat. By the time dawn broke and you awoke, your heart and all the pain it held had been locked away.

“He’s a moron, morons shouldn’t survive. It’s natural selection.” She argued.

“There’s nothing natural about you stabbing him with a kitchen knife because you don’t approve of his romantic choices.” You argued back.

“Alright, so I won’t kill him. I know a guy who moves cargo from one country to another. I’ll stuff him in a crate and ship him to Papa New Guinea.” She offered.

“You know a smuggler? Who’ll smuggle a person? A human smuggler. You know a human smuggler?” You frowned, morbid curiosity breaking through the icy barrier around your emotions.

“I know a lot of interesting people.” She shrugged.

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, it’s not.” She smirked.

“Stop trying to distract me…” You huffed.

“Listen to me Kotonk, you misjudged a situation when you were emotional. You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last. But at least you know now, you have closure. You don’t have to wonder what would have happened if you had never made a move, and when you’re old and grey the regret would have haunted you much more than the embarrassment will. As for your heart, it will heal in time.” She told you sagely.

“Not without copious amounts of ice cream and alcohol it won’t.” You chirped hopefully.

“That’s my girl.” She commended, rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll pick up some ice cream and tequila on my way home from work. Speaking of which… I have to go, because one of us needs to be able to pay rent.”

“I have my savings.” You grouched.

“Are your savings enough for me to retire and be your pretty trophy wife?” She checked, climbing out of the bed.

“No. But if they were, you’d be the prettiest trophy wife ever.” You told her sweetly.

“I know.” She agreed as she left the room to go and get ready for work.

As soon as she left the room the darkness descended on you again. It was playing over and over in your mind, that awful moment you had made the terrible mistake.

How could you have been so stupid? Misreading his signals like that?

“Stop it!” Natasha yelled through the wall.

“I wasn’t doing…”

“I can hear your pity party from here.” She interrupted.

“Fine. I’ll stop.” You grouched, punching your pillow into huggable form and snuggling into it.

She was right, you needed to stop feeling sorry for yourself, and stop punishing yourself as well. But that was easier said than done.

Thankfully, a distraction soon came in the form of gentle footsteps padding down the hall towards your room. You could hear the shower running and if you knew Natasha (you did) then she’d called for reinforcements before she got ready for work.

Wanda peered inside the room, her already soft expression melting when she saw you curled up under your blankie.

“Natasha, she told me what happened. We don’t have to talk about it.” She whispered before you could say anything.

“Thank you Wanda.” You told her, heartfeltly.

“I thought we could just eat your feelings and watch telenovelas all day.” She suggested, pushing the door open to show you the pillow and dressing gown in her arms.

That sounded perfect, beyond perfect actually. You unfurled yourself from your own pillow and held out your arms for her, an invitation she didn’t hesitate to accept.

“Pietro has gone to that little bakery around the corner for us.” She grinned, settling onto the bed and cuddling into you.

“I should get my heart broken more often, I’m being positively spoilt.” You snorted.

Pastries, telenovela’s, and family… There really was no better way to mend a broken heart.

“Is that your phone?” Wanda asked, digging under her legs when a loud ringtone starting blaring.

“It’s probably just my dad. I haven’t spoken to him in a few days.” You sighed.

“I don’t think it is.” She gasped, finally finding the blasted thing and gaping at the screen.

You craned your neck to look at it, and let out your own gasp.

“It’s… my former boss.” You frowned.

“Answer it.” Wanda urged.

So you did.

“Mr… uh, Loki? Hi.” You greeted, ignoring Wanda’s sniggering at your awkwardness as Loki’s smooth voice spoke to you.  

“Pardon?” You squeaked, surprised.

“What?” Wanda mouthed, intrigued.

“Dinner?” You repeated, partially for Wanda’s benefit, partially to make sure you’d heard right.

Wanda looked taken aback for a split second before she started nodding vigorously. Loki clarified his request for you, and you froze up.

What he was asking, it was unexpected.

But was it unwelcome?

Wanda was making shoving motions with her hands, like she could physically push you towards Loki. You swallowed thickly, turning it all over in your mind before you made your choice.

“Yes Loki, I’ll have dinner with you tonight.”

Chapter Text

In the last few days, a lot had changed for you. This time last week, if someone had told you that you’d be in one of the fanciest restaurants in the city, sitting across from Loki Laufeyson… You wouldn’t have believed them.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” You admitted breathlessly, taking a long sip from your ice water.

“Is it really so hard to believe? It makes perfect sense for me to want you, it was inevitable really. In fact, I think this is fate.”

And maybe it was. If you hadn’t fallen in love with Bucky and inadvertently had your heart broken in the process, then you wouldn’t be sat here right now.

“But you… and me… this… it’s just so…”

“Perfect?” He interrupted, smirking knowingly.

“A little.” You grinned.

“I couldn’t ask you while you still worked for the magazine, it was against company policy. But you quit, of your own accord, which gave me the freedom to pursue you.” He explained passionately.

And in the breaking of your heart, you had been set on this path. If you hadn’t become disillusioned with romance then the bubble wouldn’t have popped and you wouldn’t have gotten a glimpse of the world without those rose-tinted glances. You’d always love love, and you’d always be a sucker for a happy ending, but you didn’t want to rely on that anymore.

“You’re really launching a self-help magazine?” You chuckled.

Everybody knew that Loki was a complicated man, with a complicated history. The Odinson family were publishing giants, with magazines in almost every category, and they were well known. It hadn’t escaped anybody’s notice when Loki changed his last name, and his destructive spiral had been well documented by the tabloids. But then he had cleaned himself up, and come back into the fold to run one of the most successful magazines in the company. You might not know the exact details behind Loki’s issues, but you had seen first hand the way he had risen beyond them. Now he wanted to help others do the same?

You could get behind that.

“There a thousand kinds of trauma that people can suffer in this life, and they do suffer. Whether it stems from childhood, or an even later in life, physical health conditions, mental health conditions, a tragic accident or the cruelty of others. I’ve spent that last two years recruiting professors and psychologists from around the world, I’ve found journalists with the right education and experience. I want to create something that can reach people, show them that they are not alone and perhaps most importantly, give them hope.” He explained, his eyes lighting up with a fierce and inspiring determination.

It was… well, an incredible idea. You were blown away by the concept, and the man behind it.

“It sounds amazing Loki, truly. But how..”

“How do you fit into this?” He interrupted to finish your question for you with a smirk.

You nodded. You didn’t know what you could contribute to this.

“Hope. Inspiration. Connection. I want you to write your stories, stories about life. Real life. I want you to write about suffering and trauma and tragedy, and how that doesn’t have to be the sum of your life. It’s the angle the publication is missing, I don’t want it to be just clinical facts, I want a little of that magic you provide with your writing.”

“You want me to write chicken soup for the soul, but fiction?” You snorted.

“Yes. 5000 words a month, about anyone and anything, so long as there’s trauma and hope.” He clarified.

“I just quit Odinson, am I really going to be allowed back?” You joked.

“That’s why I couldn’t ask you unless you’d quit. This magazine is mine, it’s not a part of the company. I found the investors on my own.” He explained.

“You’re breaking off from your family?”

“Yes. And no. My father… My adoptive father isn’t happy.” He said softly.

It made sense then, the name change. Odin was a proud man, naming his company Odinson was his stamp, his legacy. You were guessing Loki’s biological father was called Laufey, and Loki’s name was his way and grinding his heel into Odin’s legacy.

“But my mother, and Thor and Hela are behind me in this. They support me.” He added, with what you would have called an affectionate smile if it weren’t for the mischievous glint in his eye.

“You’re taking the legacy Odin gave you and making it your own, without him. You’re playing his game by your rules.” You realised out loud.

“Exactly. I’m making something honest out of all the lies. I know trauma, and how destructive it can be. I want to offer something that can help others claw their way out of that pain, a rope descending into the dark pit to help them pull themselves out.” He agreed, elaborating on your realisation. “Will you help me to help others?”

You could write about something real, pain and loss, and how there could still be hope. Five minutes of escapism from a harsh world, for those who needed it most, and a hope that they could carry out of the story with them when they left.

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

There was more to be said, details to be decided on, kinks to iron out, gratitude for this opportunity to be given… but right now, all you needed to do was say yes.

He wrapped his fingers around the stem of his wine glass and held the drink out towards you, grinning like the cat that got the cream when you clinked your glass against his.

Chapter Text

Ambivalence was the word of the day. On the one hand you had a job again, and a far better one. After you had accepted, you and Loki had negotiated the terms and they were great. You had your own assistant, access to research teams and actual professional psychiatrists for fact checking, a travel budget to go and interview people around the world for inspiration, your own office with a guaranteed ‘inspiring’ view and a very generous but not extortionate salary. In return you would provide five Thousand words per issue, with final approval by Loki and at least one mental-health professional. It was the perfect job.

On the other hand… you hadn’t just been rejected by the man you adored, but you’d also pushed him away. There was nothing left to salvage there, which may have been the best way to move on, but it was a lot of loss to come to terms with. The advance copy of the magazine that Loki had given you was sitting on the kitchen counter, taunting you. It was your last ever piece in that magazine, and the most important one. It was the story where you’d laid yourself bare, and it was obvious. Even Loki had asked if you were alright when he handed you the magazine.

So, ambivalent. You were revelling in your gratitude, excitement and joy all the while drowning in heartbreak and regret. So when your phone buzzed on the counter you had to take a few moments to compose yourself before you put down your cup and checked the message.

Sam The Man: Come get ‘yo latte. Barnes isn’t here today.

You should have ignored it. Sam meant well, he didn’t know that he was pouring salt into fresh wounds.

You: Why? Is he ok?

You couldn’t help it. You were concerned. Was this your fault? Probably. What If he was upset because you’d thrown yourself at him?

Sam The Man: Steve said he was fine, just that he needed me to cover for him today. Why, are you concerned? 😝

Sam The Man: P.S I made muffins.

You smiled fondly and typed out a reply, trying to think of a solution to the Bucky problem. And there wasn’t one. The only question you could answer was how much you were willing to lose in this situation. That was an answer you knew as soon as the question arose.

You: On my way, see you soon X

You might have pushed Bucky away, but you couldn’t lose Sam and Steve as well, so you texted the former and set about fixing as much of the mess as you could.

You: Text Bucky and tell him your phone is about to die and you’re about to call him from the landline.

You: Please.

Stevie: Why?? I mean, I did it, but why?

You’d explain after, first you called Bucky, making sure your number was withheld.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky answered with, and boy did he sound awful.

“Don’t hang up. It’s me.” You said quickly, crossing your fingers.

There was a beat of silence before he sighed, long and loud.

“You need to stop getting Steve to do your dirty work.” He huffed.

“I needed to talk to you and I wasn’t sure you’d take my calls.” You admitted apologetically.

“I would… Of course I would.” He said softly.

“Listen, Bucky, I… About the other day…”

“Don’t. Please don’t. I know it was a mistake, and that’s ok. Really. Let’s just pretend it never happened.” He pleaded.

“I can’t. And I don’t want to, because it did happen. And I am sorry, really I am. I thought… Well, I read the situation wrong and I feel terribly about that.” You told him, before you took a deep breath.

“But here’s the thing… Natasha is like a sister to me, she’s far more than a friend. Same with Wanda, Pietro and Clint, they’re my family. Steve and Sam? They’re my friends, my best friends and I love them. God, I love them… I’m not prepared to lose them, not or anything. What happened between us, I take responsibility for it but I can’t lose the people I love just because of you and me.” You told him, determined.

It was true, and it was important he realise that.

“I think I understand what you’re saying. It was a harmless mistake, and you were emotional…” He chuckled condescendingly.

You frowned as his tone coaxed your hackles up.

“Well, yes, I was, but you knew how I felt and you still… Well, you aren’t entirely blameless Bucky.”

He’d read your stories, and he didn’t tell you he knew about your feelings. Instead he held your hand and took you to Coffee tastings, and offered you comfort when you needed it. Yes he was just being nice, but it wasn’t entirely your fault that you’d gotten the wrong impression. He had, however inadvertently, led you on.

“I know that. Don’t you think I know I screwed it all up? I regret it, more than you know.” He told you wearily.

Were you really that terrible to warrant such a reaction? It was one thing for him not to return your feelings, you hadn’t realised he was quite so disgusted by you.

“Trust me, not as much as I do.” You snapped. “So you win. I’ll keep away from the café, if you lift my ban so I can come in when you aren’t there. I have no desire to be around you, but I want to be able to see Sam.”

“Fine. You can swan about as much as you like when I’m not around. You and I never have to see each other again.” He said thickly, probably overcome with relief.

“Fine.” You agreed.

“Fine.”

“You already said fine!”

“Well then I guess there’s nothing left to say.”  He spat out.

“Nothing at all!” You agreed.

But he didn’t hang up, and neither did you. If there really was nothing left to say, why were you both still on the phone?

“Bucky, I…”

The door swung open as Natasha shouldered her way inside, laden down with drink holders and greasy brown paper bags. She must have decided to come home from lunch and check on you, and she paused in the doorway, her eyes narrowed in concern when she heard you say Bucky’s name.

“I… Goodbye then.” You sighed, ending the call before he could say anything more.

“Did I interrupt something?” Natasha asked coolly, discarding the lunch items next to you on the counter and looking you over with a discerning eye.

“Nope. Just clearing the air so I can go see Sam without running into Bucky.” You shrugged.

She had interrupted though, and thank god she had. You’d been about to say something you’d regret. What that something was, you had no idea, and now you’d never have to find out. Bucky had made his feelings very very clear, he was so far from interested in you that he was on the opposite end of the spectrum.

“You sure?” She pressed.

“I’m sure. I’m so freaking sure. Cause there’s nothing to interrupt. I made a move and he blocked it, so what’s there to interrupt really? I’ll tell you what, NOTHING!” You laughed humourlessly, spinning around in your seat to rest your arms on the counter so you could lay your head on them.

But then there was the magazine, staring up at you, reminding you that your heart was on show and it had been deemed unworthy by the person who had inspired it to begin with.  

“You know what? I’m beautiful. Maybe I’m not ‘conventionally attractive’, whatever the fuck that means. But I’m a whole person, made up of billions of tiny little moments that had to unfold the exact way they did for me to even exist. The whole history of the entire universe had to play out as it did for me to be born, billions of people, millions of years, thousands of species. Every speck of dust, every grain of sand, every star in the sky and every heartbeat of every living creature, they all had a hand in my existence. And then I was born, and every moment of my life built me into the person I am today, every choice that I made, to lead me here. I’m beautiful because I exist and my worth can not be determined by one man!”

Every moment of time there ever had been had toppled like a domino to bring you here, if a single domino had moved then you wouldn’t exist. That was a lot of butterfly’s that didn’t get stepped on, and that made you a miracle, and far too important to be brought down by unrequited love.

Natasha stared at you, unblinking as you vented your frustration, and only when you stopped, gasping for the breath you’d forgotten in your tirade, did she say anything.

“Yes Kotonk, you most certainly are beautiful.” She agreed. “For too many reasons to be counted.”

It wasn’t condescending, it wasn’t said to pacify you, to her it was as simple as agreeing that yes the sky was blue. For her, your beauty was beyond calculation. For you, hers was unquantifiable.

All those little moments had led you to a statuesque and lonely ballerina, befriending her had led you around the world and to New York, to Wanda and Pietro, to a coffee shop in Brooklyn and a broken heart. And that broken heart had led to you quitting your job, only to be free to be pursued for a better job.

So yes, it hurt like hell to be rejected, but it wasn’t the sum of your heart and it wasn’t the defining moment of your life. Your pain, however much it stung, was only one facet of your existence. You would survive this, even if in that particular moment it felt like your heart had grown thrice as heavy in your chest.

“I just really fell for him Nat. I didn’t mean to, but I did.” You whispered, tears pooling in your eyes until they broke free.

“I know.” She nodded.

She didn’t offer any empty consolations, or promises that it would all be ok. She knew you already knew you’d survive, and she knew that all you needed was someone to wrap their arms around you and hold you together while you fell apart for a little while.

And that’s what she did.

Chapter Text

He knew the banging on his door was going to come, and he was right. It had been a day since he’d text Steve that he wanted to be left alone, twenty-four hours since you had called him and… Well, cut all ties. He was determined to leave yesterday behind him, and he made sure to take a deep breath before he swung the door open to reveal a harried looking Steve Rogers.

“Hey, you need a lift to work?” Bucky joked casually, like he didn’t live in the apartment above the cafe.  

“What? You went radio silent all day and now you’re just going into work like there’s nothing wrong?” Steve demanded, following him down the flight of stairs, brimming over with that passionate worry he seemed to have an endless supply of where Bucky was concerned.

“I was having a me day.” He said smoothly, and really, was it a lie?

“You’ve been off for days, since the incident with…”

“I know what incident, and I remember telling Sam I didn’t want to talk about it.” Bucky bit out, gently shouldering Steve out of the way so he could lock his front door.

“I know Buck, but we’re worried.” Steve sighed, falling into step beside him on the sidewalk as they made their way to main street to unlock the stores.

“Steve, I’m fine. I just needed some breathing space, that’s all.” He promised.

And that had been what he needed, to process everything, to accept that your almost screw-up had been a painful blessing in disguise. Because now you were hellbent on avoiding Bucky, and really, that was the best thing for everybody. Eventually your paths would have to cross again, Sam would want to take you around and that was fine. He’d force out polite greetings and meaningless platitudes, and he’d get over you in the meantime.

Which should be easy, because what was there to get over? Months of pining from a distance, a single day where he’d gotten to hold your hand, and an emotional almost kiss he’d leapt away from?

“Hmmm.” Steve hummed suspiciously, and he knew he’d have two very worried and clingy friends looking over his shoulder for the foreseeable future.

He opened the café, putting more concentration into every meaningless little task than he usually did. He couldn’t let his mind drift, because it would drift places he wasn’t allowed to go.

But you were hanging around the café like a ghost, in every corner he looked. Every action reminded him of you.

Everytime someone laughed he’d remember that way you’d laugh all the time, never withholding any of your joy.

Someone tripped on their way to the table and god, if that didn’t make him think of you and your clumsiness.

Someone ordered a vanilla latte and he was sent back to that moment when you’d leant into kiss him his senses had been filled with your unique scent, a perfumed blend of coffee and vanilla.  

He’d never met anyone so bursting with life, so colourful. You’d made your mark on his heart and his mind and you wouldn’t be easy to shake. Especially when his customers would do things like sit and read that magazine in the café.

He almost got whiplash when he saw the two women huddled over it in a corner table, shooting furtive glances at him and giggling to themselves. When they saw him looking the blonde sat up straighter and smiled warmly at him.

That was… strange. He shook it off and went back to pouring milk into the steamer but someone coughed lightly to get his attention, making him look back up. It was the brunette with the magazine, her friend watching intently from the table.

“Can I help you?” He asked nervously.

It wasn’t overly unusual for a customer to approach him with non-coffee related intentions, but he didn’t need that today. Not that the woman was unattractive, she was beautiful, but she wasn’t… Well, she wasn’t you.

“This might sound strange, but I just can’t believe that it’s a coincidence… There’s this magazine, it has an add for this café in it and…”

“Wait, what?” He interrupted.

She flicked through the pages and held it out to him, showing the full page poster for the café. It was sleek, simple, to the point and eye-catching. If he’d known about it, then it’s exactly the kind of add he would have approved.  But he hadn’t known about it.

“Sorry, my business partner must have done it.” He frowned.

You must have worked with Sam on it. It was hardly surprising that neither of you had mentioned it to him.

“Oh, well the thing is there’s these romantic stories in here. There’s a café, and this man, and well with the add… I wondered if it was all related, because he sounds so much like…”

“SAM!” He yelled, smiling apologetically at the woman. “You’ll want to talk to my partner, he’ll know more than I do.” He explained, pouring the foam onto the cappuccino he was desperately trying to concentrate on.  

“Ah, I see. It’s probably nothing anyway, what are the chances?” She laughed.

“Hmm.” He said noncommittally, breathing a sigh of relief when Sam finally wandered out of the kitchen.

“This woman has some questions for you.” He grunted, searching for the cocoa powder that he eventually realised was right in front of him.

“I got you, how can I help you Miss?” Sam crooned, slipping into charm offensive.

“Maria, that's my friend Sharon over there. I’m sorry, it sounds so stupid now I think about it. It’s just such a beautiful love story, I wondered if it was real. I wanted to meet the stormy-eyed soldier with the heart of gold.” She chattered, embarrassed.

“Wouldn’t we all.” Sam joked, diffusing the awkward situation.

“It’s just… The way the writer describes him, it’s incredible. Very few people are loved so intensely and if this ‘James’ is a real person, he’s really, truly loved by her.”

“James?” He breathed out, and for a brief moment he was sure he’d heard it wrong.

The next moment the entire café fell into a hushed and shocked silence as the cappuccino in his hand hit the floor, shattering into pieces. As the delicate porcelain shattered, every single moment of the last few months played out again in his mind, and this time he realised the truth.

You hadn’t come here to write about Sam.

When he’d told Sam he knew about your job, Sam thought he knew. Sam knew, Steve too, and they thought he knew and he’d rejected you.

When he’d told you he knew about your feelings… Oh god, what he’d said to you had a very different meaning now that he knew that you’d never had feelings for Sam.

“It’s me. It was me.”

Chapter Text

“Barnes, what do you mean it was you? Did you not know? How could you not know? You said you knew!” Sam demanded, grasping his elbow to tug him out of the way so someone could clean up the cup he’d smashed.

“I knew she wrote for the magazine. That’s all I knew.” He croaked, numbly letting Sam lead him around the counter.

“Well this is an interesting development.” The woman, Maria said. She was holding out the magazine for him and he just couldn’t bring himself to take it from her hands.

Sam frowned at her suspiciously, and she coolly shrugged.

The glossy pages of the magazine called to him, drawing him in, begging to be read. His fear pushed him back. Was he misunderstanding this situation? Was he getting his hoped up, just to have them dashed? If he was wrong then this would be the worst heartbreak yet, but he needed to know. If there was even the slightest chance he was right… he needed to know.

Shakily he reached out to pluck the magazine from Maria, swallowing thickly as he looked down at the printed pages.

Koi No Yokan – A Love Letter From The Author, For My Muse.

Can you fall in love with someone before you even know them? Is it possible to love a stranger, falling deeper every time you see them? There was once a time in my life that I would have said no, it’s not possible. Infatuation is not love, and desire is only a shade of what love is supposed to be. Cliché’s used to be tired old tropes to me, until I discovered that a cliché is often an experience that has been lived by so many people, it leaves its mark on the heart of humanity.

I didn’t believe in clichés, until the first time I saw him. Until the first time I walked into a bustling little café, and I saw him there. Until I looked into those stormy eyes and I saw so much pain, tired, soul-crushing pain that was only overshadowed by the kindness in his gaze. I knew then that I was going to love him one day, I knew it with absolute certainty.

This is the story of how I fell in love with James.

James, not Sam. And if there was still a part of him that doubted it was really true, it was slowly quieted the more he read.

He never knew I was watching him, never saw me gazing at him in rapture, memorising every detail of his form, counting every loose strand of dark hair spilling free down his neck. It never occurred to me that I would ever actually feel the desire to run my fingers through someone’s hair, but then again a lot of the romantic tropes were lost on me until him. What I once saw as sensationalised platitudes meant to sell romance novels became consuming desires. I wanted to know what his soft hair would look like spread across my pillow, to wake up and gaze into those blue eyes; would they shine cerulean in the dawn light, or darken to grey? Those hands that so expertly worked at the hissing and steaming machines, I longed to feel them on my skin. Both hands.

He could feel the want and desire simmering beneath the words, your lust unfurling from the letters on the page and starting to run through his blood.

Trauma lingered around him, wrapped around his limbs and weighing down every step he took. But he didn’t cow to it, didn’t bend or break, he simply bore it. It was there, as much a part of him as his shadow but it was not the only part of him. Those demons of his did not damn him, they simply existed. Their viciousness could not temper the kindness in him, they could not darken the light he shone with. Seeing him persevere through his pain changed something in me, it opened my eyes to possibilities I had not considered before. People are more than their pasts, we are not defined by where we have been. James could stand tall with his scars on show and it wasn’t the first thing you would notice about him, or even the second, and when you finally did see that trauma, it wouldn’t become the sole focus.

He was gentle and kind, so soft spoken with harried and stressed customers who needed a little tenderness in their day. He’d give them a soft smile that was so warm you could see their shoulders relax as they stood there at the counter. They’d start to bark out their orders, rushed and in desperate need of the caffeine to boost them through the busy day, but a few words in and those kind eyes would rekindle the kindness in their own souls, and rushed demands would turn to polite requests. That’s not to say he didn’t have a stern side, a bossy streak. It burst forth whenever his protective nature kicked in, when I’d get so distracted by trying to watch him that I would tip my chair too far back and he’d bark my name out, warning me I was being reckless and foolish. If at one point I had mistaken his tone for one of anger, I was relieved of the notion when all four chair legs were on the ground again and I saw the panic subside from his expression.

And there it was, irrefutably.  It was him, he was your muse, this love letter was for him. He wasn’t aware of his body moving towards the chair, or sitting heavily in it while he drank down your words. What he was aware of was his heart, pounding in his chest, jumping at the realization you didn’t just see him; you saw him. You saw him and you adored him in a way he didn’t think he could be adored. All this time, you’d been right there in front of him, and he hadn’t seen the truth. He’d pined from a distance, while you pined from a distance. Both wanting and both believing they weren’t wanted.

I loved him, I didn’t know it yet, but I loved him deeply. My heart became so enthralled with James that he fuelled the romance in me, he inspired me to believe in love, to want to share it. By the time my mind caught up to my feelings I was irrevocably, unconditionally, persistently in love with him.  I always will be.

What had he done?

He’d said he’d read your work, and he didn’t think he should kiss you. What you’d heard was something else entirely.

“I need to go.” He said abruptly, standing up.

“I’ll say.” The blonde agreed, sighing heavily.

“Bucky. I’m sorry, I thought you knew. You’ve been a dumbass but man, I let you be one. I should have pushed harder, I knew you had a thing for her. We all did!” Sam groaned.

“But you don’t? You don’t have a thing for her?” Bucky asked desperately.

“She’s my friend. I don’t have a thing for her anymore than I have a thing for you.” Sam scoffed.

Sam wasn’t in love with you, you weren’t in love with Sam. You wanted him, and he had to tell you he felt the same before it was too late. If it wasn’t already… He’d caused you so much pain, what if you’d closed your heart off to him because of it?

“Go!” Sharon ordered sharply, impatient.

“Right.” He agreed, clutching the magazine close to his chest and sprinting out of the door.

When he sprinted back in a minute later, Sam was already holding up the car keys he had forgotten.

“Thanks.” Bucky huffed, diving out of the door a second time.

He got into his car and drove, weaving through the traffic with a single-minded determination. To get to you.

It felt like it took hours, but eventually he made it, taking the stairs to your apartment two at a time and hammering on the door. This was it. This was his chance to say how he felt, to apologise, to win you back… As soon as the door swung open he opened his mouth, the words on the tip of his tongue.

But it wasn’t you that answered the door.

“What are you doing here?”

The fearsome redhead was glaring at him so intently he actually took a step back, putting distance between himself and the dragonesque woman protecting you. And he really couldn’t blame her, not one bit. How much pain must he have caused you, how much had he toyed with your heart?

“I need to see her.” He begged, eyes searching the hallway behind Natasha for your familiar form.

“Why?” Natasha asked coldly, crossing her arms.

“I… I thought it was Sam. Natasha, I thought it was all about Sam. I didn’t dream it was ever me, if I had then…”

“Never occurred to you to actually read the magazine, huh?” She scoffed.

“No. Because I read the one story about Sam and it felt like I was being torn apart, and trust me I’d know exactly how that feels. I didn’t want to put myself through it because I didn’t need to be reminded that she wasn’t ever going to want me. Not the way I wanted her, the way I needed her.” 

And at that her expression softened, as much as he had ever seen it do so.

“You’re too late Bucky, I’m sorry.” She sighed.

“What?”

“She got offered a new job. Right now, she’s at the airport.”

He blinked stupidly at her, the words not sinking in. The Airport? But… But he needed to speak to you, he needed to see you, to hold you, to kiss you, to love you.

“So, if you’re going to catch her then you need to leave now…” Natasha urged. “Unless you’re giving up on her?”

“Never.” He vowed. “The only thing that would ever stop me was thinking she didn’t want me, she’s the only reason I would ever let her go.”

“Then you’ve got a plane to catch, soldier.” Natasha smirked, handing him a piece of paper with your gate number on it.

Chapter Text

“I’ll have a latt.. uh, just give me a tea please?” You sighed.

You couldn’t bear the taste of coffee right now, not with Bucky Barnes at the forefront of your mind. No distraction could free you from the chains he’d wrapped around your heart, no matter how hard you tried. So you chose your tea, paid for it and wandered back into the bust airport, eyes darting around the shops for something you could at least attempt to do instead of pining.

Retail therapy could ease any kind of heartache, or so Hollywood was always telling you. But like with most of what came from the silver screen, that was just an unobtainable fantasy, because two bottles of perfume, a giant Toblerone and a ridiculous hat later, the only thing that was any lighter was your bank account.

He was still on your mind, planted stubbornly right at the forefront of your subconscious. The man you couldn’t have, who you’d spilled your heart to and been rejected by. You couldn’t just get over it, you just had to persevere until you learned to live with the pain.

Until then you’d have to get used to hearing his voice echo in your head, seeing his face in the crowd, remembering him with every beat of your heart.

Except…

“Bucky?”

He skidded to a halt at the ticket desk and looked over his shoulder, disbelief on his features.

“I made it.” He gasped, and for a brief second you thought he was going to fall over.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You demanded.

His victorious grin dropped, replaced by fear and anxiety. You waited for some sort of explanation as he strode over to you, dodging suitcases and holiday-bound families until he was standing right in front of you. He was close enough for you to reach out and touch him, and you did have that urge. Then your heart palpitated painfully and you were reminded that this wasn’t a happy reunion.

“What are you doing here?” You asked again.

He too a deep breath, his shoulders tensing up and you felt a flicker of anxiety at his clearly stressed demeanour.

“Doll, please don’t leave, not yet. I need to talk to you and I know I don’t deserve it but I am begging you…”

“Bucky, I…” You tried to interrupt, perplexed.

“Just please don’t get on that plane. Or do, just not yet. I know your job is important and I would never want to get in the way of that, I’ll buy you another ticket just.. please.” He pleaded.

“My… My job is in… New York.” You stammered, utterly befuddled.

“What?” He reeled back, frowning.

“I’m not here to get on plane. I’m here cause Nat called me and said if I met her at the airport she’d buy me a Cinnabon.” You explained numbly.

He blinked dumbly at you, trying to make sense of your words.

“You’re not leaving?” He clarified.

“No?”

He narrowed his eyes while you just stood there like a dumbass and tried to figure out what was going on.

“Does Natasha have two friends called Maria and Sharon by any chance?” He finally asked.

“Yeah, they work at the Detective Agency with her? What is going on?” You demanded.

He didn’t answer, he just gazed at you with an indecipherable expression, his hands fidgeting.

“Bucky?”

“I fucked up.” He blurted out.

“Right. What’s that got to do with me?” You asked nervously.

“Did you know that Sam keeps a copy of the story you wrote about him in his wallet?” He asked, and the sudden turn of the conversation made you almost dizzy.

“Yes, I knew. He’s very proud of it.” You said, just a tad bitterly.

“He showed it to me, after I dropped you off at home that day. The day I found out what you did for a living.”

“Is there a point to this?” You snapped, or rather you tried to snap. It came out a tad more pathetically than you’d intended.  

“I told him I knew about your magazine, and he showed me that story. See, he thought I knew. Everybody thought I knew. But I didn’t know a damn thing. I thought it was him, I thought it was Sam.” He whispered, his voice barely reaching your ears through the commotion and din of the airport.

“Why are you telling me this? Do you have some sort of issue with me writing about Sam? Because you have no right Bucky, none. You made your feelings clear, so you don’t get to take issue with who I write about.”

And he smiled, like it was funny. You felt your heart drop and your blood pressure spike in one foul swoop, but before you could get any traction on your anger he took two giant strides forward, standing right in front of you.

“There’s been so many misunderstandings. No more. So I’ll say this as clearly and plainly as I can. I thought you were in love with Sam, not me, and I pushed you away because I was trying to be a martyr.  I didn’t want to come between you and my friend because you are two of the best people I know and I thought you deserved each other. If I’d had any idea who you were really writing about then I wouldn’t have held back.” He told you, pinning you to the spot with his gaze.

Sam? He thought… but he… but you… Sam? Did this mean what you daren’t hope it meant? Was Bucky really saying what you thought? The slight chance that he was absolutely floored you, and for the first time in your life you found yourself rendered utterly speechless.

His eyes searched yours as he reached out to tenderly cup your face in his hands, metal and flesh caressing your skin as you started to hyper-ventilate.

“And doll? Now I know.” He declared.

You needed to say something now. Anything. Anything! Any words at all, damnit.

“You fucking moron!” You exclaimed.

Well, those were words alright.

“Not what I hoped you’d say, but fair.” He laughed softly.

“Bucky I… MONTHS! Months I sat there and wrote about you. It was all right there in print, but you only read one story, one! I tried to kiss you! You! I have loved you so much, for so long, and you thought it was Sam?! Sam Wilson?”

“It does take two to miscommunicate.” He pointed out ruefully.

“But it was you Bucky. It was always you.” You whispered, and you were suddenly looking at him through clouded vision as your eyes teared up.

You’d been lugging around this broken heart, because of a misunderstanding? Because if Bucky was here, setting the record straight then there had to be a reason.

Right?

“It was always me, and it’s always been you. Because I am irrevocably, unconditionally, persistently in love with you too.” He whispered, the words melting into your heart and tattooing themselves there.

A sob broke free from your throat and he stepped in closer, holding you as close as he could. But despite the tears trailing down your face, you were smiling.

“I need time to think about it.” You huffed.

“Alright.” He agreed, “You can have ten seconds.”

“Five.” You countered as he leant in.

“Three.” He decided firmly, his lips ghosting against yours.

And this time he didn’t pull away, he didn’t push you away.

This time his lips pressed against yours, and in that first taste of him you felt the whole world fall into place.

All of history, everyone who ever lived, billions of moments, every star aligning, all to lead up to this moment. And maybe it was fate, maybe it was chance, maybe it was pre-written or pure coincidence; but it didn’t really matter. It was love, it didn’t need to be explained. It just needed to be felt.

And with Bucky Barnes lips on yours, his arms around you, and his heart beating in tandem with yours? Yeah, you felt it.