Work Text:
There were still a couple of weeks left to November, but the snow was starting to come down already.
You mentally patted yourself on the back for remembering to wear your rain boots that morning, your feet sloshing through the thick layer of slush already forming on the ground. So far, it had only been a mix of snow and rain, but the forecast had predicted heavier accumulation in the coming days, and you weren’t looking forward to it.
You probably would have liked the snow better if you didn’t live in a city like New York; snow wasn’t as romantic here as it was in the suburbs or more rural places. It was pretty for the first few hours, sure, but after that it became more of a brown, sludgy nuisance that made getting on and off public transportation a nuisance. But, your boots made it bearable, so your trek back home from work wasn’t too bad.
You were still about a block away, but you could already smell the garlic and basil wafting through the air. That’s how you knew you were close to home, and close to what you were sure was the best pizzeria in the borough, maybe even the whole city. The whole damn state, really.
Like a beacon in the five o'clock darkness, the red neon sign for A Slice O’ Brooklyn glowed ahead of you, the smell of freshly baked pizza getting stronger and stronger, reminding your stomach that you had an early lunch that afternoon.
“Hiya, neighbor!”
You smiled, even though your mouth was partially covered by your scarf, lifting your hand to wave at the kind older man standing in front of the shop, brushing snow off of the delivery vehicle parked at the curb.
“Hi, Mr. George,” you said once you were close enough. He gave the windshield one last swipe before dusting off his hands and planting them on his hips, flashing you an endearing smile of his own. “Do you need any help?”
“Not at all, kiddo, I’m just about done,” he said, toeing the tire of the car a bit. “What about you? Need anything for the snow comin’?”
You couldn’t help but smile even wider. George Barnes was the owner of A Slice, and he was one of the nicest men you had ever met. He was probably somewhere around his sixties, early seventies, but you would think he was still in his thirties with the way he worked. He had salt and pepper hair, and you could tell that you might have swooned if you saw a photo of him when he was your age. Apparently, the pizzeria had been in his family for decades. When you moved here a year ago, his restaurant was one of the first places you ordered food from, and you hadn’t stopped going back since. It was a haven of the neighborhood, a place where everyone was truly welcomed like they were family, like they belonged, even if they were new like you had been all those months ago.
Plus, the food was so delicious, you were pretty sure you saw God the first time you tried one of their famous pepperoni slices.
“No, I think I have everything I need. Thank you, though,” you told him. You picked up the brush he had been using, taking it upon yourself to catch a few spots on the car that he missed.
He was just about to argue with you, or perhaps take the brush away from you, when the door to the shop opened, a fresh wave of delicious, savory smells hitting you like a brick wall.
“Oh, sweetie, I thought that was you! What are you doing out in the cold like this? George, why do you have the poor girl out here like that? She’ll catch a fever!” You heard behind you.
You turned to find Winnifred Barnes standing there with her hands on her hips, a slight scowl on her face as she stared down her husband. She was a small woman, and her hair was more white than black, but she had just as much energy as George and she was just as sweet and caring, too.
You hid a laugh behind your scarf as you watched the two bicker like the old married couple they were. They were constantly arguing, even during business hours, but it was always followed by the two of them being sickeningly affectionate with one another, the kind of cavity-inducing sweetness that made your chest ache a little.
They were still bickering in front of you, even with George’s arm wrapped around Winnie’s waist, and you knew you had to get out of there quick before the well-meaning older lady inevitably mentioned—
“You know, dear, my son is home for Thanksgiving break,” Winnie said, directing her attention to you with an oh-so-innocent smile that you could see right through. “Remember James? I must have mentioned him before.”
You held back a groan, forcing your own smile to stay on your face. How could you possibly forget James, when his mother brought up his existence to you any and every chance she got? You practically had this dude’s life memorized, and you had never even met him before: he was accepted to USC after a couple of gap years, he was majoring in engineering, with a minor in finance, he made Dean’s list a bunch of times, started walking when he was only 9 months old, had his first kiss when he was 12, owned a car, had good job prospects lined up after graduation, and apparently had the cutest little tush. Ugh.
Despite all your assurances and thinly veiled excuses, Winnie seemed determined to get you together with her son, who she spoke about as if he were the crown jewel of all New York. You supposed that was how all mothers viewed their sons, and you sort of appreciated her concern for your love life (or lack thereof), but the last thing you wanted to do was shit where you literally ate. Guys named James who studied finance could only disappoint you; he was probably one of those Silicon Valley dudebros who called women “females” and got a hard-on just thinking about crypto and NFTs.
Nope. Hard pass.
And because you had no interest in sacrificing your favorite food joint for a lousy date that would only end in disaster, you dodged all of Winnie’s attempts to throw her firstborn at you.
You smiled politely at her, taking a small step away from them in the direction of your apartment. “Uh, I think you might have mentioned him before Ms. Winnie…”
“He was just telling me how he was invited to some important conference out there in California, oh I forgot the name, but it’s a big deal! I think he said he might meet Tony Stark, too!”
You were more gritting your teeth than smiling at that point, taking another less than discreet step towards your escape. “That’s awesome, good for him. Um, boy, I should really check if I turned off the stove—”
But Winnie was relentless. And less than subtle. “He’s single you know,” she said, trying to come off as nonchalant, and failing miserably. “Although, he has been mentioning this friend he likes to study with, Natasha I think her name is, oh gosh I don’t remember, sounds like a lovely girl, though…”
Your jaw almost dropped. Was she really pulling the whole ‘your time is running out!’ salesman thing on you? You almost had to hand it to the woman. She was ruthless.
Just as you were trying to form some semblance of a response to that, the shop door opened again and you were saved by the bell.
“Okay, that’s enough. I’m here to rescue my friend from you two,” Rebecca Barnes said, placing an arm over your shoulders and maneuvering you away from her parents.
There was a flurry of squabbling between all three of the Barnes before you managed to say your goodbyes to the elder two while Becca continued to steer you toward your apartment. You couldn’t help but laugh with relief, adjusting your scarf over your head to shield yourself from the onslaught of wet snowflakes falling from the sky.
“Was my mother trying to marry you off to my brother again?” Becca asked, rolling her heavily lined eyes. She took a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of her light denim jacket, shaking one out and lighting it under the cover of her hand.
The mom-friend instinct in you wanted to scold her for not having a heavier coat on and for smoking, but you held your tongue. She was a grown woman after all, even if she was a couple of years younger than you.
You playfully groaned instead, getting your keys out of your bag as your building approached. “What, you don’t want me to be your sister-in-law?”
“Please, I wouldn’t wish that nerd-wad on my worst enemy,” Becca snorted.
You laughed, and she stepped on her cigarette, following you into the building and up the two flights of stairs to your small but cozy dwelling. It was a miracle that you even found this apartment on your budget considering the price of rent in Brooklyn these days, so you weren’t complaining about the size at all. You could hear music seeping out from the crack under the door, and you knew Kate was already home.
You also smelled something burning.
Sure enough, you and Becca were met with a grimacing Kate Bishop, futilely waving away smoke with your dish towel over the stove, where a pot of…something had boiled over and blackened. Your smoke detector was discarded on the counter with its battery popped out, and one of Kate’s slippers was missing.
“Okay, in my defense, I’m almost certain this stove burns hotter than normal ones,” she said, holding up her hands as if you had her at gunpoint. “Seriously, that thing is radioactive. I stepped away for, like, a second, and BAM!” She made an explosive gesture with her hands, puffing out her cheeks until they were full and round.
You sighed, shouldering off your jacket, while Becca went over to the stove, peering warily into the still smoldering pot.
“What was that even supposed to be?” Becca asked, her nose wrinkling.
Kate shuffled her feet. “It’s, well, it was boxed mac and cheese,” she admitted, her shoulders deflating. “I only looked away for a second! Honest!”
“I’m sure,” you said plainly, chuckling despite yourself. Your stomach grumbled again, demanding for its needs to be met sooner than later. “Okay, what do we have in mind for dinner that won’t burn the place down?”
“Oooh, can we order pizza? Please?” Kate asked, already moving on from the disaster she had made, plopping herself down on the couch and picking up the remote.
“Ugh, not pizza,” Becca groaned, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before joining Kate.
“I don’t understand how you can hate pizza. Pizza is amazing,” Kate said, scrolling through the movie selections on Netflix.
“Yeah, well, when pizza is literally your life twenty-four-seven, the intrigue wears off,” Becca grumbled. “But fine, just order me a chicken salad, please.”
“Alright, I’ll head back out,” you said, going to grab your jacket again. Hopefully, Winnie would be busy with something by now so you could avoid learning anything more about James .
“Wait, don’t go back out there,” Becca said, frowning over at you. “Just order online, it’s no big deal.”
“I wouldn’t want anyone to drive in this weather,” you said. “I can just walk.”
Becca gave you a plain look. “Trust me, there could be a hurricane and Dad would still make deliveries. Plus, the roads are all clear. Just use the website.”
You hesitated for a moment, but you pulled out your phone, more than a little relieved that you wouldn’t have to go back into the cold. “Okay, pizza it is, then,” you muttered as you pulled up the website, confirming what Becca and Kate wanted.
When you got to check out, you typed “send your cutest delivery boy” in the special instructions box, just because it was a habit at this point. It used to be a stupid thing you and your friends did back in high school for shits and giggles, and you had meant to leave it in the past, but you had absently done it the first time you had ordered from A Slice and no one has let it go since.
Whoever ended up delivering your pizza always poked fun with you about it, whether it was Becca, her adorable grandfather who sometimes helped out, or even Mr. George himself. It made for a nice laugh, so you had kept it up, this time being no different.
Once everything was good to go, you entered your card information and went about unwinding from work, rewarding yourself with a nice hot shower, taking your time putting on lotion and your favorite Hello Kitty pajamas. At the last minute, you decided to put a quick clay mask on your T-zone, with the promise of your pores being squeaky clean in half an hour.
By the time you were done, your apartment door buzzer went off, letting you know the pizza was finally here.
“I’ll get it,” you told Kate and Becca, though they seemed to be engulfed in a rapid-fire conversation on the couch, some rom-com playing in the background. You hit the intercom button, buzzing the delivery person into the building, and it wasn’t too long before there was a knock on the door.
You opened it without really looking, fumbling with the cash in your pajama pocket. “Thank you so much, here’s your—”
Tip.
That’s what you had meant to say, but when you looked up to hand over the cash, your voice got trapped in your throat.
Because you were staring at the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your entire life.
He stared back at you with the warmest of eyes, despite their icy blue irises, the corners just beginning to crinkle from the polite, small grin on his full lips. His hair was on the longer side, a rich curtain of mahogany that kissed his shoulders.
God, his shoulders.
His chest, his entire build was huge. He was a freaking wall wearing a red Henley layered with a sweatshirt and a coat over top.
You wanted him to crush you with his tree trunk arms.
You had no clue how long you stood there staring at this fallen Greek deity, it could have been seconds or centuries, but concern began to lace his handsome features, a small wrinkle forming between his brows.
“Uh, hi. You ordered the large pepperoni pie with garlic knots and the chicken salad, right?” he said, and you wanted to shrivel up and float away at the sound of the deep timbre that was his voice. “That’s what I have here, at least,” he added, holding up a receipt in his free hand.
By some miracle, you managed to nod, and he looked relieved, opening his perfect, perfect lips again to say something. But he never got the chance.
Because you slammed the door in his face.
The impact made the walls shudder, and both Kate and Becca jumped, scrambling off the couch and looking over at you with stunned expressions.
“What the hell was that?” Kate asked, rushing over to you, Becca right at her heels.
You still couldn’t speak, your back plastered against the door, your hands covering your mouth.
“Was that…was that the pizza?” Kate tried again, placing her hands gently on your shoulders.
You nodded slowly, because apparently that’s all your brain could manage to do at the moment.
“Okay, well, who did they send?” Becca asked carefully, peering over your shoulder as if she’d be able to see through the door.
You just shook your head rapidly, the grip you had on your face growing a little tighter.
Just then, a couple of knocks sounded from the door, a muffled “Hello?” coming from the walking wet dream on the other side.
“Why don’t you let me answer it, okay, hon? Just scoot over a bit here,” Becca said calmly, talking to you like you were a skittish horse.
She and Kate exchanged a look before Kate carefully pulled you from the door, setting you to the side as Becca opened it again. You couldn’t see the man from where you stood behind the door, but you saw Becca’s expression change from concern, to what you could only describe as mild contempt.
“Oh. Hey asshole,” she said, placing a hand on her hip.
The man scoffed. “Hey, loser.”
“Dick.”
“Bitch.”
“Cunt.”
“Take your food, dumbass,” the man said, and Becca surprisingly complied, taking the pizza box and the salad container from him.
“I’ll see you at home, poopy mouth,” Becca responded, sticking her tongue out at him.
You heard him laugh, the sound smooth and warm like velvet, and your heart did several backflips.
“I love you, be safe, Bec.”
“Love you too, Buck. Bye.”
With that, Becca shut the door, bringing the food into the kitchen and opening everything up as if nothing had transpired.
You shook your head a couple of times again, squeezing your eyes shut as your brain tried to process what just happened.
You must have been dreaming. You had to be. Men like that didn’t exist in real life, and they certainly didn’t show up on your doorstep with freaking pizza .
You looked between Becca and the door, your jaw hanging open while she just stared at you with an eyebrow raised.
“Arrrrre you gonna eat?” Becca asked, gesturing towards the food.
You wheezed. “You know that…that… that —”
“Linebacker,” Kate finished for you, peering at the door again with an impressed look.
“You mean my brother? He doesn’t play football, he’s too much of a dork for that,” Becca said casually, stabbing her fork into her salad.
Brother.
Becca’s brother.
Which meant he was Winnie’s son.
Which meant…
“That was James ?!” You screeched.
Kate jumped a little away from you, and Becca took a step back, raising her free hand in the air.
“Yeah, that was just Bucky. Hideous, right?” she snorted. “Now you’ve finally seen the mess my mom keeps trying to drop on you.”
“Mess,” you echoed, your voice hollow.
Kate scoffed. “A mess? I wish I was a mess, then,” she said, opening the pizza box and grabbing a slice. “Your family has impeccable genes.”
“Thanks, I got all the good ones,” Becca told her with a smirk.
But you couldn’t focus on anything they said, your eyes fixed on the door.
That was the prodigal son Winnie had been selling you this whole time, the nerd-wad Becca had been griping about this whole time, the guy you were sure was some kind of wannabe Zuckerburg this whole time. Instead, he was freaking Zeus .
And he had seen you in your Hello Kitty jammies and a face mask.
And no bra.
You wanted the floor to swallow you.
You pointed an accusing finger at Rebecca, your chest heaving as your brain caught up to everything. Her eyes widened as you took several menacing steps towards her until your finger was only a few inches from her face.
“You knew that your brother looked like that , and you didn’t think to tell me?” Your voice was low and dark, and you could hear Kate swallow audibly but your attention was fixed on the youngest Barnes.
She just rolled her eyes, swatting your hand away and getting up to get a drink from the fridge. “Oh, please. He looks like a tool.”
Your eye twitched.
Kate must have sensed that you were ready to launch yourself over the kitchen island at Becca, because she stood up too, placing herself between you two. “To be fair, of course you wouldn’t see that your brother is attractive. He’s your brother,” she shrugged, giving you a helpless sort of look.
“Attractive is a very strong word to use,” Becca deadpanned, tilting her head at you. “What's the big deal, anyway? I thought you wanted to avoid my brother like the plague.”
“That was before I knew your brother was the freaking Epitome of Man,” you groaned, suddenly needing to lie down. You dumped yourself onto the couch, covering your eyes with your arm. “And he saw me like this, oh my gosh.”
You heard Becca laugh. “It was just Bucky, and you look adorable!”
“You keep saying ‘just Bucky’ as if one stare from him wouldn’t impregnate every woman within a two-mile radius,” Kate chimed in.
You raised your other hand and pointed in her general direction. “What she said.”
Becca sighed, and a second later she was standing over you, removing your arm from your face. You let it fall listlessly to your side as you stared up at the ceiling and contemplated your life choices.
“So, now you do want to be my sister-in-law? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying I can never order pizza ever again,” you said, glaring at her before smothering yourself with a couch pillow. You were pretty sure you’d never be able to show your face in the streets of Brooklyn from this day on.
“We’ll just see about that,” Becca said, walking back to her salad.
You didn’t miss the ominous tone her words had.
*********
It had been two weeks and you were conveniently craving pizza.
No matter what combination of carbs and cheese you tried, whether it was mac and cheese, lasagna, cheesy garlic bread, or anything of the sort, your heart and your stomach still wanted a hot, slightly oily slice from a certain pizzeria you were avoiding.
It was actually ridiculous the lengths you were going to avoid A Slice . You had mapped out an entirely different route home from work, which added a half hour to your commute, and your health app congratulated you daily on the number of steps you logged from walking the long way home from the train station, just to avoid the storefront.
You could never go back there. There was just no way.
Becca: are you still avoiding us
It was as if that woman could read your mind. You looked down at the text message as you got on your new train home, thankfully finding a seat despite the rush hour congestion. You sighed, the heat of humiliation creeping up the back of your neck from the fresh memory of that night.
You: that depends. is your brother still home?
Becca: you know he is
It was true, you did know James was still in New York, but you were hoping some kind of miracle would have sent him packing back to California. According to Becca, all of his finals could be submitted online, so he was here to stay until late January.
Yay.
Becca: just stop by the shop, it’s no big deal. it’s not like he saw you naked
You: i might have preferred that.
Becca: okay, i’m ignoring the implications of that
Becca: but seriously, mom and dad keep hounding me about you, they need to see you to make sure you haven’t been kidnapped (literally their exact words)
You: awwww, that’s so sweet.
You: but no.
Becca: i have no clue why ur making this a big deal
You: YOUR PANTY DROPPER OF A BROTHER SAW ME IN MY HELLO KITTY PAJAMAS
You: HELLO
You: FREAKING
You: KITTY
Becca: he thought they were cute btw
You stared at the screen for so long that you almost missed your stop.
You: …he said that
Becca: yes, he has asked about you
An unhuman sound came squeaking out of your throat, causing a few people to turn and look at you, but you ignored them, trudging up the stairs out of the subway station.
You: what have you told him, exactly?
Becca: stop by the shop and i’ll tell you
You paused, considering. It was so tempting. You did miss seeing George and Winnie, and there was the chance that James wasn’t around…
Not a chance. And there was no way you were going to face that gorgeous man ever again, not after you slammed the door in his face. His perfectly chiseled, god-like face. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that face.
It didn’t matter, though, because you’d never see it again. Never ever forever, the end.
You: i’ll see you in january Bec
Becca: WOW
Becca: okay, you know what, it’s fine. i’ll take care of this, don’t worry
Becca: :)
You frowned at the singular smiley face she had sent. It seemed innocent, but you had been around Rebecca Barnes for long enough to know it couldn’t mean anything good.
Still, you decided to push all thoughts of A Slice , and Becca, and He Who Shall Not Be Named out of your mind, thinking instead of the fresh pint of Phish Food waiting for you in the freezer and the nice night in you were going to spend with Kate. Fridays were usually when Kate stopped pretending she wasn’t a trust fund baby and visited her mother on the Upper East Side, but apparently Ms. Bishop had an out of state event to go to, so the two of you had decided that now was a good a time as any to finally binge watch Bridgerton.
You got to the apartment and were about to put the key in the door when it flew open, Kate jumping back a little when she saw you on the other side.
“Hey,” she said, her eyes wide like saucers. “Hi. You’re home. Already. Hi.”
You narrowed your eyes at your roommate, taking in her hair, which was in a crooked ponytail, her coat which was buttoned wrong, and the fuzzy slippers that were still on her feet.
“Why do you look like you’re leaving?” you asked her, peering a little closer.
She took a small step back, as if that would keep you from seeing the constipated and guilty look on her face.
“Uh, that’s because I am leaving,” she said, folding her lips together.
You frowned. “What happened to our big night in? We were gonna objectify Regé-Jean Page together.”
“Oh, geez, I know but, uh, something came up. And I need to take care of it quickly, expeditiously, even, so I have to go. Sorry,” Kate said, cringing. “You can watch it without me. Hope you guys have fun, bye!” she said, rushing past you out the door.
“Wait, ‘you guys’? You’re leaving, who else are you talking about?” You called after her.
She froze, her back to you, her shoulders scrunched up to her ears. She inched around until she was facing you again, her face struggling to resemble something neutral.
“Right. You’re gonna be alone. Just so lonely, all by your lonesome,” she said, biting at her lip. “Absolutely no one is coming to the apartment at all. Why would you think that?”
“I didn’t think it, you implied it.”
“I don’t think I did, though.”
“Yes, you did, you said ‘hope you guys have fun.’ Plural.”
She shook her head. “Nope, not ringing a bell, sorry.”
“Kate—”
But before you could continue, she bolted down the stairs, waving and shouting some more goodbyes at you as she made her way down.
You stood there for a moment, trying to unpack that whole conversation in your mind, but you quickly gave up. There was no use when it came to Kate sometimes.
You simply began to embark on your newly solo night, showering and cozying up on the couch with your two favorite men, Ben and Jerry. It was sometime around the third episode of swooning over the duke that the door buzzer sounded off. You figured that Kate had forgotten her keys in her haste, so you just buzzed her in, waiting for her to get to the door.
Sure enough, a knock sounded, and you flung the door open, ready to say something sarcastic, but you were rendered speechless for the second time in as many weeks.
Because it wasn’t Kate at the door, holding a pizza with her biceps bulging through a USC sweatshirt.
And it wasn’t Kate staring back at you with oceanic eyes that crinkled in the corners, eyes that narrowed slightly before she took a cautious step back.
No, it wasn’t Kate at all.
“I promise, I come in peace,” James said, the corner of his mouth lifting up. “I’ll set down the pizza and go.”
Heat burned through you from head to toe, and you groaned, covering your face with your hand as realization hit you.
Becca’s smiley face.
Kate acting weird.
It all made sense now.
You heard James laugh softly, and you peeked from behind your fingers to find him smiling at you, not an ounce of malice anywhere on his beautiful face. It was only because of his genuinely sweet demeanor that you pulled your hand away, straightening up and looking right at him.
“You know I’m gonna kill your sister, right?” you said to him, letting yourself smile a little.
“I’ll help you hide the body. What’d she do this time?” he asked, his smile growing wider. Gosh, his voice was deep. You felt it in your knees.
“I didn’t order a pizza tonight,” you told him, gesturing towards the box he was holding.
Your gut told you to open it, so you did, and sure enough, the pepperoni on the pie was laid out in a smiley face, identical to the one Becca had sent you earlier. Yeah, a shallow, unmarked grave was waiting for Rebecca Barnes somewhere in the woods for sure.
James let out his own groan when he saw it, shaking his head slowly. “I swear, she’s worse than our mother.”
You blinked at him. “Has…has Winne been talking about me? To you?”
He ducked his head sheepishly, glancing at you from underneath his lashes. “All the time.”
Your mouth fell open. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to you that Winnie had been selling you to her son as much as she had been trying to sell him to you. What could she have possibly told—
“ Bubby, she’s a wonderful, nice girl, you’d love her,” James said with an uncanny impression of the woman who gave birth to him. “She’s so beautiful and smart, and you need to settle down with a good woman and give me grandbabies. She’s so hardworking, you should see her coming home from work so late. Bubby, get her number from Rebecca and call her.”
You couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up out of your chest, your eyes beginning to water. It was almost comforting to know that he had been suffering as much as you’ve been.
“My mother has tried pushing women on me before, but never this bad,” he said, rolling his eyes playfully, shifting the pizza box to his other hand. “She kept talking about you like you were the best thing since sliced bread, and…” he trailed off, his gaze trailing over you from head to toe.
“And?” you prompted, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.
He looked you right in the eye. “And I think she might be right.”
Oh, damn.
You cleared your throat, tugging at the hem of your shirt, quietly telling your ovaries to calm the fuck down. You smiled at him, keeping as much of your composure as you possibly could, and it was a miracle you did.
“Well, James, now I kinda want to see if she was right about you,” you said, opening your door wider, stepping aside. “If you’d care to join me for a slice and some Regency-era drama.”
“Call me Bucky,” he said, not wavering one bit. “And I’d love to.”