Chapter Text
Bucky Barnes made it a point not to get to know his neighbors. In theory, the idea of knowing one’s neighbors was nice, just to have a bit of a local support system in case of emergency, but Bucky wasn’t someone who did that kind of thing anymore. The more people were involved in his life, the more wild cards there were, and Bucky didn’t like unpredictability. You never knew when someone you thought you could trust would turn on you, and Bucky had had enough of that for a lifetime.
Unfortunately, this didn’t stop him from thinking on occasion about the blonde man who lived down the hall in his apartment building. He was reasonably sure this man was named Steve, and since Steve (probably Steve?) often spent time in the common area drawing, Bucky saw him more than his other neighbors. Steve was unfairly easy on the eyes, which Bucky would normally be able to ignore, but Bucky also got the distinct vibe that Steve was a trans man, just like him. If it weren’t for that fact, Bucky might be able to ignore him, but unfortunately for Bucky, Steve stayed on his mind.
Steve was also very quiet, and Bucky liked that about him. Too much noise was overwhelming, which was why he tended to stay in his apartment except for necessary errands. His only company was Caramel, his PTSD service dog, and that suited him just fine. Still, it didn’t stop him from daydreaming about a calm, mutual silence with Steve in the common area. It sounded nice in theory, at least. He would never go sit in the common area when anyone else was around, of course, but if he had to, he bet he could tolerate Steve’s presence more than most.
Now was not the time to think about Steve, though. Bucky was currently psyching himself up to try and go to the grocery store without Caramel, telling himself that it would be a quick trip and it would be alright. Grocery stores were overwhelming, too bright, and generally terrible, but he didn’t want to spend his whole life quivering in terror, either. Technically Caramel would be allowed if he brought her, and he had before, but the two of them always attracted stares, which Bucky hated even more than the sensory overwhelm. If he could just get through a quick grocery errand, maybe this would be a start and he could eventually go inside for longer periods. Not being stared at would be entirely worth it. Bucky hated being observed, and people would pay much less attention to an unaccompanied white man in a jacket.
Bucky gave Caramel a goodbye kiss, and then headed outside, his prosthetic arm hidden away in a leather jacket. He hoped he looked just about the right amount of surly that no one would bother him, but not enough that he would look suspicious in the store. The street wasn’t very crowded, thankfully, although Bucky did his best to dodge people and not make eye contact anyway. He was out of practice in regard to interacting with people, and he knew he needed to work on it, but street strangers weren’t the place to start.
He winced as he stepped inside the grocery store, the fluorescent lights and noise making his fists clench. Focus on your grocery list, he told himself, and he made himself look at his phone as he walked, grabbing a basket as he went. He didn’t need much, but the further he got into the store, the more his anxiety spiked. There were way too many people in here, they were getting too close, the lights were too bright, and too many people were talking. He grabbed a few apples with a shaking hand, praying he could make it to the checkout without losing it. He was able to get the rest of the produce and meat he needed before reaching the dry good aisles, but then he found himself staring at canned soup, paralyzed. He didn’t feel like he could move, and he worried he would drop the basket if he did.
You have to get out of here. Finish the trip. He tried to obey what he told himself, but terror was slowly replacing any coherent thought. He reached for a couple of canned soups, and a few made it into the basket before his shaking hand dropped one, the can clattering to the floor and making him jump. Thank god it was metal and not glass. He bent down to try and pick it up again before he realized someone was speaking, and that fact made him nearly lose it entirely.
It was a gentle voice, though, and no one was touching him or getting too close, so he forced himself to look up at who was talking to him, placing the last can of soup safely in his basket.
“Are you okay?”
Oh, god, it was Steve from down the hall. Of course it was fucking Steve.
Bucky tried to find words, wanting to at least attempt to seem like he wasn’t a traumatized mess who could barely handle a grocery store.
“I - “ Bucky began, but he couldn’t force the words out. Steve considered this and spoke again, somehow saying the right thing.
“I was just heading to the checkout. Want to walk with me? You’re the guy from down the hall, right?” Steve said, and Bucky felt a tiny bit of relief. There was no pity, no confusion about how to help him, and no acting like it was a big deal. That helped Bucky return a little to normalcy and he nodded, forcing some words out.
“Yeah. Sure.” Bucky wondered why Steve’s company didn’t want to immediately make him bolt the other direction, but he wasn’t going to complain, if his presence was going to help him get out of the store without melting down entirely.
The rest of the grocery trip passed by in a haze, and Bucky found himself able to at least function on autopilot. He stood in line behind Steve, paid for his own groceries, and kept a brisk pace at Steve’s side as they walked toward their apartment building. Once they turned down a quieter street and there was significant space, Bucky felt like he could breathe and speak again.
“Thanks for that,” he said, stopping before their building door and looking up at Steve. “Sorry I was so quiet, I don’t do well in grocery stores. I’m Bucky.” He was probably going to panic later that he had introduced himself to a neighbor after all, but Steve made him want to talk. If nothing else, he seemed to be a kind and gentle man on the surface.
“I figured. Don’t worry about it. Just wanted to make sure you got out okay,” Steve said. He didn’t ask what was wrong with him or mention any more about Bucky’s panic attack, but Bucky was sure Steve had seen him with his service dog, so he knew something was going on with Bucky. He was grateful that Steve didn’t pry, though.
“Nice to meet you, though, Bucky. I’ve seen you around, but I’ve been too shy to say hi,” Steve said, giving a little shrug and a grin that Bucky found unreasonably adorable. He’s just a pretty face, don’t read too much into it.
“Me too, don’t worry,” Bucky said as they headed up the stairs. His anxiety began to fade away as he reached a familiar area, although it was replaced by something weird and fluttery for the moment. At least that was better than outright fear.
“I don’t get out much, and I’m not really that good at people. So it’s definitely not a you thing,” Bucky said. “I’ll, uh, see you around?” Bucky had reached his apartment door, and upon seeing it, was desperate to get inside, cute man or no. Steve’s face lit up a little, and the smile he gave Bucky did things to his insides.
“Sure, I hope so! Take care.” Steve gave a little wave and headed further down the hall to his own place.
As Bucky calmed down with the help of Caramel, he couldn’t get his mind off Steve. That had been the kindest thing anyone had done for him since he could remember, and he felt like he needed to repay him. So he found himself in the kitchen, cooking what he hoped was a friendly neighbor type of dish - a chicken and rice casserole. He wasn’t the best cook, but he was decent, and he hoped that the gesture would thank Steve better than Bucky could in words.
Too nervous about accidentally encountering Steve again, Bucky waited until late in the evening, and then quickly darted down the hall. He deposited the casserole on Steve’s welcome mat with a small note, knocked on the door, and then sped down the hall, quickly locking his own door behind him.
God, this man was making him act like an idiot. Somehow, though, he found that didn’t bother him so much.