Chapter Text
Sam leans as far out of the serving window as he can and cranes his neck so that he can look past the awning to the sky.
He lets out a long, drawn out groan. Thick, dark clouds hang fat and somber above, drowning out any hope that the late afternoon sun might make an appearance and warm up the cold grey concrete.
"Man, this weather is killing our business."
Late July and it’s forty-five degrees, day three of an unexpected cold snap and sales have been slow.
Sam looks back over his shoulder. M’Baku leans against the sink, phone in hand, ignoring him completely.
Sam frowns and raises his voice even though M’Baku stands less than five feet from him.
“I said , ‘This weather is killing our business.’”
No response.
Instead, M'Baku leans forward and balances his phone on the counter, thumbs the record button and steps back. His typically stony face splits into a wide smile as he begins a bizarre dance to no music. He looks like he’s swatting flies and he points with both hands to the air around him.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asks incredulously.
M’Baku gives one last smile for the camera before leaning forward to stop the recording. Like a switch being flipped, his grin disappears and is again replaced with a somber expression.
Thumbs flying over the screen of his phone he begins doing something that Sam cannot see.
“I’m making a TikTok,” he says at long last. “To drum up business.”
Sam frowns. “How exactly is whatever that was- " he vaguely mimics M'Baku's dance- "going to help with business?”
M’Baku looks at Sam from the corner of his eyes and gives him a sympathetic look like he can’t help but feel sorry for how out of touch he is. Which, in truth, is probably exactly what he’s thinking.
“To get our name out there. To associate that name with fun and good times. It’s all part of the hustle. We want people thinking about ice cream when all they want is hot chocolate.” He turns his eyes back to his phone. “Don’t you know this weather is killing our business?”
Sam scoffs and pulls an annoyed face, stopping himself from sticking his tongue out like a petulant toddler.
In truth, he’s grateful for M’Baku’s social media savvy and his mind for business. Sam may be the food genius in this relationship, but he’d be nowhere without M’Baku’s relentless commitment to making sure the world knows that Sam is a food genius.
"Um, excuse me?"
At the sound of a customer behind him, Sam perks up. He twirls around, a smile plastered wide on his face. But his mouth, half open in greeting, stills and his words die in his throat as soon as he catches sight of the man at the window.
All thoughts fly from his mind, save for one.
Blue .
But blue is such a tricky one to get right. Especially a blue like that. Maybe he could use blue butterfly pea? Cornflowers? Or maybe even black goji?
But no. None of those are right.
Blue, blue, blue… matcha.
Yes . That would do nicely.
He'd have to mix it carefully though. Wouldn't want it going too purple. He’d have to use a light touch as he stirred it into the cream. A blue like that takes a delicate hand.
But it would be worth it. If he could get it right.
Blue eyes blink up at him. Flit away and back again, uncertain.
Sam realizes he's been staring. With a start, he shakes his head and gives himself a mental kick.
“Sorry! Sorry about that, I just- had a moment.” He shrugs dumbly and a feeble laugh escapes him.
Those blue eyes crinkle at the edges. And when the face that goes with those eyes graces him with a lopsided smile, Sam realizes that he was lucky he only noticed the man’s eyes. Because those lips, that chin, the scruff, all topped with a gorgeous shock of hair? Yeah, those could drive a man way past distraction and straight on to “lost beyond all hope”.
“It’s okay. I have those moments too sometimes. Steve calls them ‘Bucky brain blips.’”
Mr. Blue Eyes laughs nervously and Sam is suddenly sure he’s a nerd. A ridiculously adorable nerd with insanely kissable lips and gorgeously snug jeans.
And Jesus , has Sam even asked him for his order yet?
He should probably get on that. But when he opens his mouth, he asks instead, “Steve? Bucky?”
“Oh right,” the man pulls an embarrassed grimace and runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry, uh, Steve’s my friend-”
Friend . Okay, good, good , Sam thinks. Although he doesn’t let himself linger too much on exactly why he finds this such good news.
“-and uh, I’m Bucky.” He, no Bucky , looks down embarrassed. “Which of course, I suppose is probably more information than you were hoping for from a customer.”
More information? Sam thinks to himself. No, no, not nearly enough .
“Hey man, I don’t mind. I’m Sam.” He sticks his arm out of the window.
Bucky looks startled, and Sam wonders if that was a dumb thing to do afterall. But then Bucky smiles, a soft thing full of surprised pleasure and something flutters through Sam’s insides.
Bucky reaches up and shakes his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Sam.” As he lets go, he does it slowly, as if he’s trying to balance out how to maintain contact just a little longer without seeming like a creep. Or maybe that’s just Sam.
Bucky ducks his head shyly and his cheeks dimple at the corners. He clears his throat.
“So, uh, what do you recommend?”
Sam folds his arms and leans against the sill.
“That depends. What are you craving?”
Bucky’s eyes widen ever so slightly. Not much, but just enough that Sam replays his words in his mind, wondering if that accidentally came off sounding like a line. He’s not sure if he hopes that it did or that it didn’t.
“Um, I’m not sure. Your flavors all sound so amazing it’s hard to choose.”
Brightly, Sam replies, “Well, I’m happy to give you a lick!” Oh no, that definitely sounded like a line. Before he can think he quickly amends, “I mean a nibble. A bite! A taste .”
Jesus man, shut up ! He clacks his teeth closed into a forced smile.
Bucky's lips still, parted in uncertainty for a moment and Sam wants to kick himself. But then Bucky smiles.
"I would love a sample if it's not too much trouble."
In his mind, Sam is slapping his palm against his forehead. Sample . That's the word. A perfectly serviceable, not in anyway sexually charged word. Why didn't Sam think of that?
Aloud, he says, "Sure thing. What would you like to try?"
"Well, I'm usually a fruit and chocolate guy, so I was thinking of the Please Mr Postman or the Love Ain't Enough but then I saw that you had a weekly special and I feel like I have to try that before it's gone."
Excitement surges through him. "Those are some of my favorites! You should definitely try them all."
Sam eagerly reaches for the spoons. He leans into the cooler and when he straightens again he brings forth a spoon full of vibrant purple ice cream, flecked with chunks of brown and white.
Bucky watches the spoon avidly as Sam leans forward to hand it to him. He's about to give his spiel about how they source all their ingredients locally. But just as Bucky reaches out to take it, just as their fingers brush together, Bucky flicks his eyes up to Sam's and a shock like static flashes through him, robbing him of any logical thought.
He can do nothing but watch silently as Bucky brings the spoon to his mouth. He presses it against his tongue and closes his lips around it. His eyes creep wide, as if in slow motion, and he lifts his eyes up to Sam’s again. Surprised joy sparks there as his cheeks dimple.
“Ohmagawd,” he mumbles around a mouthful of ice cream. His hand shoots up to cover his mouth as he cheeks blush a soft pink in embarrassment.
A few seconds later, he swallows and bobs his head in apology.
“Sorry, I do have better manners than that.” His eyes go wide once again. “But, wow! That was amazing! I’m seriously questioning my life choices. Like, why haven’t I been eating blueberry ice cream my whole life?! It tastes like all those summers I spent picking wild blueberries at my granddad’s place in Maine.”
“We source them fresh from a place up in Maine!” Sam’s cheeks ache from grinning and he doesn’t even try to quell the excited pitch in his voice. “Here, you have to try this one next.”
Sam can’t dig in the next flavor fast enough. It’s an unusually large scoop for a sample, but he reasons with himself that it’s important that Bucky be able to taste the chocolate, raspberry, and bacon all in one bite.
He knows he made the right call when he watches Bucky’s eyes light up again as he pops the spoon into his mouth. This time Bucky manages to keep his mouth closed until he’s finished the whole bite, but only just barely.
As soon as he swallows, words begin to tumble incoherently from his lips.
“Holy cow. That was- I mean, it’s just- with the tangy and the salty- the way they-” Bucky holds up his hands and interlaces his fingers- “it’s like an ice cream alloy! How did you even know they’d work together?”
Sam laughs with real joy and shrugs. “Lots and lots of experimentation.”
Before Bucky even has to ask, Sam is digging into another spoon into the weekly special. “Tell me what you think of this.” As he hands it over, he grimaces, "Calling it Summer Breeze feels a little ironic now, given the weather lately."
Bucky laughs. “I suppose, a little. But thankfully for me, I’m not easily deterred by the cold. Any season is ice cream season if you ask me.”
Thank god for that, Sam thinks as he watches Bucky take a bite. For the first time in days, Sam is grateful the gloomy weather has kept most of their other customers away.
This time Bucky closes his eyes and moans as the ice cream melts on his tongue. When he peeks open an eye, he gives Sam a playful smile.
“Excuse me, but I just might need a moment alone with this ice cream.” The mischievousness lingers in his smile for only another moment before it’s wiped away by blunt sincerity. “But seriously, how do you do that? Take the best strawberry shortcake flavor I’ve ever tasted in my whole life and put it into one bite of ice cream like that? I swear, you’re a genius!”
Pride stirs bright and strong in Sam’s chest and he ducks his head humbly. “Thank you.” His cheeks burn and he shrugs. “I just really love ice cream.”
“How lucky for the rest of us.” Bucky smiles up at him shyly.
Sam stares down at him for a long heartbeat, his cheeks pleasantly warm. “Want to try some more?”
Bucky’s face lights up eagerly. “Would that be okay?”
“Of course! I’m the boss.”
Sam hands over sample after sample to Bucky.
"...here try this, it's golden syrup with chunks of Anzac cookie… I know it sounds weird, but trust me, roasted millet is an experience you won't regret… you have to try these two together and let me sprinkle some cotija on top…”
In the end he offers him a taste of everything. And Bucky eagerly accepts them all.
As he watches him taste each one, Sam marvels at his reactions, at the pureness of them. He’s certain that Bucky is far too guileless to fake his praises and something stirs warm in Sam’s belly. Sam starts to wonder what it would be like to have this man in his kitchen. To have him sitting across from him offering suggestions as he experiments. To reach across the table and pop a spoon I'm Bucky’s mouth. To see those lips curved into that appreciative smile every morning. Every afternoon. Every night.
Eventually- though Sam’s not sure how he’s not full to bursting- Bucky orders two scoops, Sir Duke and the Love Train on a waffle cone. When Sam hands it to him, it drips over his fingers and he laughs. Sam laughs with him as he grabs some napkins and passes them down. As Bucky chases the drips down his wrist, he catches sight of his watch and his mouth drops open.
“Oh. Oh shit.” He looks up at Sam apologetically. “My lunch break ends in five minutes. I should go, it will take me that long to get back to the office. But, this-” he bites his lip suddenly shy- “this was great. Thank you. Do you- do you guys work down here often?”
Sorry to see him go, Sam has to hold his grin firm to keep it from faltering.
“This was our first time getting a permit for here, but we plan to come back when we can. Actually-” Sam plucks a business card from a tray on the sill- “if you follow us on Instagram, we’ll post when we're back in the area.”
Bucky reaches up and takes the card from Sam’s hand. He glances down at it. How Sweet It Is: Premium Ice Cream for a Song is printed in green and pink, with website and social media handles printed below.
“Great,” he says looking back up. “I’ll definitely keep a lookout.” He shifts his feet, lingering when he knows he should go. “I- I should go, but thank you, again.”
“Thank you and I- ah- hope you visit us again.”
“Yeah, yeah definitely.”
Bucky takes two steps backwards then a third, before offering a small wave and turning around and continuing down the sidewalk. He looks back over his shoulder one more time, giving Sam a final glimpse of those blue eyes.
Sam keeps watching as he walks away.
Absently, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his notebook. Once Bucky turns the corner out of sight, he looks down and starts flipping through the pages, filled with spontaneous flavor ideas. It takes him a while to find a blank page.
Quickly, he scribbles down: Blue matcha. Coconut? Pistachios, underlined twice with an enthusiastic hand. Dark chocolate swirl? Fig?
He taps the pen lightly against his lips as he thinks. He’s got some of the things he needs already. He could start experimenting as soon as he gets home. He wonders if he has any of that red cabbage dye he’d made to color his niece’s birthday cake, just in case he needs it to balance things out. He’ll want to go light on the sugar… the sweetness should be delicate, enough to compliment the matcha without overpowering it…
M’Baku clears his throat pointedly and Sam starts. Even though it’s just the two of them, he’d completely forgotten he was there. M’Baku, though, isn’t nearly so absent minded. Sam can tell from the smirk on his face that he was keenly aware of his entire exchange with Bucky. Sam groans inwardly.
“Feeling inspired are we?” M’Baku asks with bouncing eyebrows.
Sam’s face feels uncharacteristically warm for a man in an ice cream truck on a cold day in July. He pulls a towel from the waist of his apron and throws it in M’Baku’s face.
He turns his back on his friend, but the space is far too small to escape his laughter.