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Ricochet is a small, sleekly decorated restaurant in the heart of Brooklyn with a waiting list three months out. There is nothing particularly unique about this restaurant to explain its popularity, except perhaps that its owner is Brooklyn-born - earning the loyalty of all Brooklyn-bred citizens immediately - and Tony Stark has been spotted there on many occasions, earning the patronage of all of Tony’s peers.
There is nothing more curious to a person of wealth than being told they have to wait.
Bucky Barnes, a man that is not at all wealthy, has been a regular at Ricochet since its opening. He is also the only person besides Tony Stark himself that can get a table without a reservation, no matter how busy they are. This is a discovery he made after his third visit, when the hostess slyly promised him, “we always have room for you.”
Unbeknownst to him, this promise is made because of the hostess’s soft spot for Steve Rogers, the owner and head chef of Ricochet. Steve has been quietly cultivating a crush on Bucky for nearly as long as Bucky has been a patron of his restaurant, though the two have never actually met.
The entire waiting and cooking staff are well aware of said crush and have been trying to work out how to give Steve the confidence to approach Bucky. There is nothing any of them want more than to see their friend and boss happy and in love rather than pining away in the kitchen.
It is because of this that the entire restaurant is utterly dismayed when Bucky shows up one Friday evening with a redheaded bombshell on his arm.
She is slim and beautiful and dangerous. More than that, there is an air of easy intimacy surrounding the two of them - private smiles and thoughtless touches - as if their relationship is far past the point of hesitancy.
The staff wants to hate her immediately but it’s impossible to do so when Bucky seems so happy with her. They’ve all got a soft spot for Bucky that is very nearly as bad as their soft spot for Steve and it causes such conflicting emotions that no one seems to know where they stand.
“For two?” Peggy, the hostess, asks with a strained smile.
It isn’t her usual smile, which is warm and open and welcoming, and that is Bucky’s first clue that something strange is afoot this evening.
When the two of them have been seated in Bucky’s preferred spot, tucked away in a corner where he can have his back against the wall, the entire waiting staff disappears for two very long minutes. In the kitchen, the waiting staff and the cooks are all gathered around the kitchen door, peeking out into the dining room to spy on Bucky and his date.
“What are we going to do?” Darcy hisses. “This is a disaster.”
“We can’t let Steve see,” Sam says, pragmatic as ever. “Not until we know for sure.”
“Don’t let Steve see what?” They all turn as one to see Steve standing behind him, wiping his hands with a damp cloth. “What is it? What’s going on?”
Steve Rogers is a small man by just about anyone’s standards; short and rail thin, so small that he looks breakable but stubborn enough that he never even cracks. Steve Rogers is also a force to be reckoned with.
His employees know better than actually try to fight him when he pushes past them to see what they’re looking at, though each and every one of them voices a protest. He has to stand on the very tip of his toes to get a peek out and it only takes him a second to figure out what they don’t want him to know.
“Oh,” he says and then visibly wilts right there in front of them all. He tries not to show his hurt when he turns around but they can all see it clearly; his brave face somehow makes it all worse.
“Steve,” Sam starts but then he realizes that there really isn’t anything he can say. He puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder, the only comfort he can offer.
“Stop, it’s alright,” Steve says, waving him away. “It’s not like we even know each other. I don’t -- I mean, it was just. Nothing, it was nothing.”
It was definitely something. They all know it.
“Have you taken their order yet?” He asks Darcy. He wants to cook; cooking always helps to make him feel better. She shrugs in a way that Steve takes to mean, no I came back here to gossip instead. “Darcy! Forget about me. Go. All of you, get out of my kitchen.”
He shoos them about as sternly as a heartbroken man can because he does, after all, have a business to run.
But Darcy is a special kind of a woman and protective to boot, so while she may go back out into the dining room as instructed, she does not forget about Steve at all. She may never forget about Steve’s reaction in her entire life because while she has always known that Steve was short and thin, she’s never seen him look small until just this evening.
She decides, looking at the table holding Bucky and his date, to get to the bottom of this once and for all.
This, of course, is Bucky’s second clue regarding the strange evening. Although he wouldn’t classify it as a clue, so much as a slap in the face. Darcy is not only his favorite waitress but perhaps the fastest and most efficient of the wait staff altogether; not at all light praise when considering her peers.
That it takes her as long as it does to come over is strange in itself, though Bucky’s date - who is, in all actuality, his best friend; Natasha - doesn’t know this. When she does appear, it isn’t with a smile but with the air of a woman on a mission. Bucky finds himself a little apprehensive and that apprehension only grows when Darcy opens her mouth.
“Our special tonight is incredibly invasive questions,” she says, faux cheerfully. Natasha snorts. “First on the menu: is she your girlfriend? Are you his girlfriend?”
Darcy looks back and forth between them and Natasha raises her eyebrow in that way that means she’s incredibly amused by something.
“I can see why you like coming here,” she says to Bucky. “It’s definitely interesting.”
“The food is great, too,” Darcy tells her loyally. “And I will be happy to take your orders along with the answer to my question.”
There’s a gleam in Natasha’s eye that Darcy can’t translate but that Bucky definitely can; it’s that look she gets when she’s caught the scent of something worth pursuing.
“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine,” she says, tilting her head. Darcy nods gamely and Natasha, ever a woman of her word, gestures to herself. “The best friend. Why did you want to know? Hoping for a date yourself?”
There are no illusions that she’s talking about a date with Bucky, not with the way she gives Darcy a very slow, very deliberate once-over. Darcy blushes a little under the attention.
“Now that you mention it,” she says, flustered. “I wouldn’t be opposed. But I was actually asking for a friend.”
Her gaze flickers to Bucky and Natasha sits up a little straighter. It isn’t known to the wait staff, for obvious reasons, but Natasha has been trying to help Bucky find a date for quite some time now, though none of them have ever stuck. Bucky has also never brought his dates to Ricochet because he feels it would taint the comfortable atmosphere and ruin his love for his favorite restaurant.
“A friend here?” When Darcy nods, Natasha demands, “show me.”
“Nat,” Bucky hisses but it’s too late.
She’s out of her seat and marching to the kitchen under the guidance of their waitress. Darcy practically bounces, she’s so pleased with herself.
“Steve’s had a crush on Bucky for a while,” she tells Natasha as they walk into the kitchen. “We all keep telling him to make a move but he’s too shy.”
“What are you doing?” Dugan, Steve’s sous chef, demands when he spots them.
“She’s the best friend!” Darcy gloats. Over Dugan’s thank god, she asks, “Where’s Steve? Steve!”
The man in question pops out from behind one of the appliances, his expression melting from curious to alarmed as soon as he spots Natasha. He stumbles in his haste to get to them, gaze flickering to Darcy like he can discern what exactly she’s said and done just by looking at her. By the pleased expression on Darcy’s face, he can only assume it wasn’t anything good.
“Whatever she told you,” Steve says to a spot over Natasha’s shoulder; he can’t actually look her in the eye and Natasha finds that endearing. “It’s a lie.”
Now, here is another thing that the wait staff is entirely unaware of: Bucky has seen Steve before; from across the restaurant’s dining room. Not often but definitely enough times that he remembers Steve, knows him by sight.
Bucky’s been witness to more than one patron demanding to talk to the chef, raving about their meal, and he definitely remembers the chef himself. There’s something magical about Steve when he’s in his element, his chef’s jacket splattered and dirty, hair damp with sweat and messy from a frantic night, eyes bright with accomplishment whenever someone praises his food.
It’s left enough of an impression that Bucky has mentioned it to Natasha a few times. The word crush has never been thrown around but she knows Bucky well enough to know when he’s attracted to someone, even if Bucky hasn’t let himself realize it yet. Looking at Steve now, she definitely understands why.
“You’re adorable,” she cuts in and Steve flushes, annoyed and embarrassed all at once. “I’ll make it happen.”
She turns on her heels and walks out of the kitchen, leaving Steve feeling stunned and Darcy feeling victorious. When she slides back into her seat across the table from Bucky, it’s with a very satisfied smile.
“You’re going to give that waitress your number so that she can pass it along,” she tells him. “And then you’re going to go on at least one date. I guarantee you won’t regret it.”
Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I don’t even get to know who it is?”
He is, all things considered, terribly curious. Most of the people at Ricochet are known to him and he’s never gotten a more-than-friendly vibe from any of them.
“No,” Natasha says. “It’s a surprise. Never say I don’t give you nice things, kotik.”
“Don’t call me that,” he says, scowling.
He doesn’t get the chance to interrogate her further because Darcy chooses that moment to come back and properly take their orders. Natasha stops her before she leaves and gestures for her to give Bucky her notepad.
“Go on,” she says to him.
Bucky looks at her with fond exasperation but does as he’s told and writes his number below their order. When he’s done, Natasha takes it from him and writes her own number.
“This one is just for you,” she tells Darcy with a wink. “But the other one, pass along.”
In the kitchen, Steve becomes so frazzled by this new development that Dugan won’t let him anywhere near the stove. Steve almost agrees to step away for the rest of the night until he realizes that this means he won’t be making Bucky’s food.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I can do this. I want to do this.”
“Is this some sort of culinary thing,” Sam asks. “Confessing your love through food?”
Morita sweeps by them with a pot.
“What if it’s shit food?” He asks as he sets it on the stove. Darcy smacks him hard enough to make him wince and jump away from her.
It isn’t shit food at all. Steve makes both of the dishes as perfectly as they’ve ever been made and sends them out with Darcy, nervously wringing his hands. He peeks out the door to watch the plates being delivered but has to skitter back into the heart of the kitchen before either of them take their first bite. It’s too stressful to watch.
“Now you’re definitely done for the night,” Dugan tells him sternly. “You’ll end up burning something; possibly even yourself.”
The meal, of course, is a rousing success. Despite Steve’s fear, everyone knew it would be; there’s a reason Ricochet is so popular and in the end, it isn’t about curiosity or the allegiance of a borough sticking with their own. It’s because Steve is excellent at what he does. The food is what brings people back.
“This is amazing,” Natasha hisses halfway through the meal. “I can’t believe you waited this long to bring me here.”
Bucky grins. “Told ya.”
Darcy comes by to fill up their drinks.
“You’re staying until closing,” she tells Bucky matter-of-factly. “For dessert.”
“Am I now?” Bucky asks, clearly amused. This night hasn’t gone anything like he thought it would and he actually likes that.
“Yes.” Darcy sends a sultry look Natasha’s way. “As for you? Come see me when you’re ready for your dessert.”
Natasha looks positively delighted by the come-on.
No one informs Steve of the plan for dessert until after the restaurant has actually closed. He hadn’t even known Bucky was still there, honestly; hadn’t allowed himself to look. If he gave in once, he’d end up standing at the kitchen door all night long.
“But,” he says, completely panicked. “I haven’t -- I didn’t -- there’s nothing prepared!”
“Steve,” Peggy says gently. Now that the restaurant’s closed, she can finally be back in the kitchen with everyone else, helping instead of getting a play-by-play from the wait staff when they have a moment. “He isn’t staying for that, darling.”
Even still, Dugan appears beside them with a tray filled to the brim with dessert. It is, in fact, every kind of dessert that Ricochet offers; a delicious tasting platter for two.
“Excellent,” Peggy smiles at him and takes the tray, handing it over to Steve. “Now, we’ll be outside taking a small break before clean up. Go get your man.”
Steve stands there, stunned, and watches his entire employee roster disappear out the back door. They all smile encouragingly at him and a few even give him a thumbs up and then he is terrifyingly alone.
Bucky’s number still sits in his pocket and he sets the tray down on the nearest available surface to fish it out. Heart in his throat, he punches the numbers into his cell phone with shaking fingers and presses call. A small eternity and three rings later, the line connects.
“Hello?” A hesitant voice asks.
“I am...so sorry,” Steve says before he can stop himself. He slumps against the wall and stares at the kitchen door, the only thing separating them now. He tries and fails to calm his racing heart. “That you got roped into this. It’s okay if -- I mean, I’m not -- you don’t have to --”
He stops and forces himself to take a breath. Finally, he gets out, “I won’t hold you to anything you agreed to under duress.”
There’s silence on the end long enough that Steve begins to panic again. Then Bucky says gently, “I don’t know, I was kind of looking forward to dessert.”
Steve breathes out a quiet laugh. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” There’s a definite smile in Bucky’s voice and Steve wants to see it for himself. “Also, your waitress has seduced my date into abandoning me. You gotta make it up to me somehow.”
Steve picks up the dessert tray and backs into the kitchen door, letting his weight swing it open. Bucky isn’t looking at him when Steve enters the dining room; phone pressed to his ear, he’s smiling down at his lap and that smile is just as beautiful as Steve thought it would be. Perhaps even more so.
“Well,” he says, loud enough for Bucky to hear him and look up. “That does seem like it's only fair.”
Bucky’s smile widens at his approach and he looks at Steve like Steve is something amazing. No one’s ever really looked at him like that and it does something weird and complicated to Steve’s chest to be on the receiving end of it. He sets the tray down on the table between them and then takes the spot that Natasha had been sitting in just a few minutes previous.
“Hi,” he says shyly.
Bucky leans forward, his smile turning softer, more private. “Hi,” he says back.
In the kitchen, Steve’s employees - who are all heinous liars and snuck back in, making a dash for the kitchen door as soon as the coast was clear - treat themselves to a round of high fives at what is most definitely a successful matchmaking. Natasha and Darcy would join in but they’re too busy with a little, ahem, matchmaking of their own.