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It was 2:30 in the morning when Bucky got a call from Auntie May, the lady who owns the bookstore next to the shop. She'd stayed late that day to wait for a delivery, and had just finished inventory when she saw the light in his kitchen turn on. She knew that Bucky had been closed that day, as he was every Thursday, and was concerned that someone might be stealing his recipes. Not the money in the registrar, the recipes.
"You make the very best teacakes, Mr. Barnes. I'd hate to see your competition get an edge on you. I can send Peter over to check it out, if you would like?"
Bucky chuckled at the thought. While May's intentions were good, he was certain that Peter was already sleeping - it being a school night, after all. Peter was always willing to help out his aunt at the bookstore, and May sort of started 'loaning' him out to the neighborhood. The kid didn't complain much, but he always seemed so tired. The difficult life of a teenager, Bucky thought.
"It's alright ma'am. I can just check it myself. Thank you for calling." May told Bucky that she would check out her curtains until she saw his bike arrive. He chuckled again, and hung up the phone.
As he walked through the living room Bucky noted that the light under the door to Steve's study was still on. He shook his head, choosing to ignore it, and went to put his boots on. Steve had been staying up till sunrise for the past week. Every time Bucky asked him to come to bed, Steve would just shrug and say that he was working on something.
"At night?" Bucky retorted on the third night.
"Yes." Steve had muttered through the crack in the open door.
"In the dark?"
"Amazing things called lamps, Buck." Steve would never open the door fully when Bucky knocked either. He used to do this before too, back in the 40s; lock himself away with his art. It was the only thing Steve loved as much as he loved Bucky. Bucky took the same course of action that he always had, and just let Steve be. He'd go to bed when he was ready.
Bucky grabbed his leather jacket off of the coat rack, and made his way down the stairs. He couldn't for the life of him think of who would want to steal anything from the bakery. It's not like he kept money in the till overnight. He knew for certain it wasn't a 'competitor' like May suspected. Bucky's shop wasn't famous enough for other businesses to take notice, added to the fact it was still new - not even a month old yet; a side project that he had started on a whim; something to do with all the back pay that he had accrued. Well, with the rest of his back pay. The majority of the money had gone into a 'Steve's Stunts that cause damage that I have to fix' fund, too repay people for the accidental damage his boyfriend caused from time to time; everything from destroyed garbage cans, to broken flower pots. Even after all this time, the man stil wasn't used to his body.
Bucky had started out just making the cakes at home, and giving them to the affected individuals. But more and more people began asking for cakes. It started with Tony, who wanted at least two a week for Pepper. Then Bruce started buying them for the people affected by ‘the other guy’. Even Natasha had asked for a few. Sam had started calling them “Bucky’s apology cakes”, and the idea grew from there.
The shop itself was only a few minutes away from Steve’s apartment by bike - especially with the lack of traffic this early in the morning. Bucky cut the engine about a block away, and jogged the rest of the distance. Once he was near the shop's front windows, he looked across the street to wave to May - who was still peeking through her curtains. She returned his wave with a quick nod, before letting the curtain fall back in place.
A quick glance through the window confirmed what May had told him. The lights in the back, where the kitchen was, were on. He fished around in his pocket for the store keys as he walked down the alley to the back door that led into the delivery space near the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, the back door was propped open. Letting himself in, he crept down the small hallway that separated the delivery space from the kitchen. He slowly stepped through the doorway, and was about to call out when he detected movement to his left. He crouched just in time to be tackled by a ball of yellow fur.
"Dammit!" he yelled, as he pushed Lucky away, and stood. "Barton!" Lucky sat wagging his tail, and looked at Bucky expectantly. Normally when Clint brought Lucky to the shop - when it was open - Bucky would give the dog special made treats. Unfortunately, he had yet to refill his supply; it was on his to-do list for the morning. Lucky barked, and across the room pans clattered to the floor, followed by the intruder yelling: "Shit!"
On the other side of the kitchen, stood Clint Barton, who looked like he'd been hit by a truck - and that was on his good days. Bucky sighed, and rubbed his temples. Clint was notorious for stealing some of the pre-made cakes, but he'd never broken in before. Normally Clint would joke around, holding his hands above his head, say 'alright you caught me' but tonight he didn't.
It was clear that Clint hadn't notice that he wasn't alone. Bucky got closer, and noticed no less than ten bowls spread out on the counter, each holding a different consistency of cake batter; in some, the batter was too liquid, another had too much flour. Bucky wasn't sure what the chocolate mess in one of the bowl was, each bowl's batter was also a different color. Clint slid the bowls over into a line, smallest to largest, and started greasing cake pans like Bucky wasn't even there.
"Barton?" Bucky asked. He waited until Clint finished greasing the third pan before trying again. "Clint." Again, he was ignored. Bucky reached out and grabbed the man's shoulder. He spun around, holding the pan like a weapon, before locking eyes with Bucky.
"Geez, man." He said lowering the pan. "Give a guy a little warning next time."
"I said your name three times Clint."
"Oh. Shit, sorry. What time is it? Are you opening soon?" Clint's eye were red, and the dark spots under them confirmed that Clint hadn't slept in a while.
"You worried Auntie May." Bucky replied, not exactly answering. "She called it in. Now, why don't you sit down, and tell me what you're doing in my shop at two in the morning." Bucky kept a few stools around in case of visitors - mostly Steve who always found time to stop by, and thoroughly enjoyed watching Bucky work.
"It's Sophia's birthday tomorrow." Clint yawned, after he sat down. "Well, today, I guess. Signora Di Rienzo, elderly lady that lives in my building, it's her grand-daughter. Signora Di, though... her hands are too bad – arthritis. She can mix the batter anymore."
"Why doesn't she use an electric mixer?" Bucky asked. One of the comforts of more modern technology, even though they had existed back in the 40s - the difference was that Bucky could afford them now.
"She says it 'takes the love out' of it. I told her that I knew someone with a bakery, and said that they'd-"
"Be happy to help?" Bucky finished for him, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Look, I'll clean everything up. And I got Lucky to help me with that. I was going to call you... But I figured you'd be sleeping."
Clint Barton was a lot of things, besides just the archer in the avengers. Bucky knew that Clint really cared about the people in his apartment building. He always seem to be doing things to help those folks out. Who was Bucky to punish him for this?
"I was." Bucky sighed. "But now, I'm going to help you bake a cake. Go grab a couple aprons while I deal with these batter bowls." Bucky said, gathering up the bowls and taking them to the sink.
It took them both over an hour to clean the bowls, remake the batter, and pour the batter into the pans. Clint had wanted to make a large, multi-tiered cake, hence the number of bowls he had before. Bucky kindly reminded Clint that Sophia - who Bucky learned was turning eight - probably didn't need that much cake. They had settled on a single sheet cake, which was simple enough to make. While the cake was in the oven, Clint and Bucky drew out a quick frosting plan on a piece of paper.
Bucky yawned as he pulled the cake from the oven, and set it on a rack to cool. Clint wanted to frost it immediately, and deliver it as soon as possible, but Bucky reminded him that the frosting would melt if the cake was too hot.So the two of them sat down, and waited.
Steve chuckled as he took in the scene in the bakery's kitchen. A flour covered Clint was sitting on a stool with his upper body lying across the counter, which he was drooling on. Bucky was sitting, propped up against the oven door, with his arms folded against his chest; he had smudges of frosting on his forehead. Lucky was also asleep, his nose in a discarded bowl. Steve scanned the room, and found the frosted cake. It was a basic design; lavender colored frosting, with green and yellow flowers; the words 'Buon compleanno Sophia' written, clearly by Clint, in dark purple icing. Assassin’s baking children’s birthday cakes. Steve couldn't help but smile.