Chapter Text
The snowfall didn’t begin until late at night, far past the time the roads cleared of cars and the lights turned off inside the houses. It raged on with a gratuitous force, accumulating quickly over roofs, trees, cars, until everything was blanketed in a layer of powdery snow. The line of lampposts, some covered enough that only a little bit of light shined through, illuminated the onslaught. Errant winds bustled the snow around, sending small puffs of clouds in every direction until the snow settled in haphazard little mounds all over, dotting the sidewalks and along windowsills. The small town was quickly covered within hours.
Its town center, a large square of road with a large maple tree in its middle, was likewise hit. Snow billowed around the square, masking footprints and even spreading across some of the surrounding store windows. It blew in-between the bare branches of the tree, snapping off a few twigs that hurl to the ground and stab into the snowy ground, their fingers pointing out to the various shops along the roads. The twigs were quickly broken, sagging underneath the weight of the falling snow.
Soon, though, it slows, the flakes becoming more pronounced as the flurries subside. As the sun rises, its rays make the settled snow glitter, and everything looks weightless, as if the outlines of trees and buildings are the only thing keeping them rooted to the ground.
It’s a breathtaking sight, Bucky decides.
In the morning, as Bucky got ready for work, the news was packed with warnings to drive carefully, walk slow, and dress warm. It almost made him leap back into his bed, grumbling about the lack of snow days for adults.
What they didn’t mention was how beautiful everything looked, with the unblemished snow covering the red brick buildings of the town center, casting a sense of serenity that smooths over his sour mood. By the time he gets to work, Bucky can’t stop marveling at the scenery all around him.
He trudges carefully through the white powder to the back door of his shop, and brushes the snow off the door handle before sticking his key in. The keyhole is ancient, something that Bucky should probably replace eventually, but he’s mastered the method of seamlessly unlocking the door, and he quickly bustles into the building. It may be beautiful out, but it’s still freezing.
Outside, the ground and sky are so full of white, making it bright enough that Bucky almost doesn’t need to turn the lights on to navigate his shop. Instead, he makes his way through with the help of the glow coming in through his windows. He hums as he drops his keys and snowy coat on the worktable, savoring the quiet in his shop. Once he opens, the space will be filled with the sound of machinery and conversation as Bucky fills the orders for his customers. But, right now, the tranquility puts a lazy smile on Bucky’s face.
Turning the heat up on the old thermostat, he grabs his coffee, a delicious source of warmth in his hand, and makes his way to the front of the store. Steve closed last night, and as much as Bucky trusts him, his best friend is usually in too much of a hurry to lock up without straightening up, and Bucky often comes in to piles of metal shavings and a gunked-up cutter machine.
But the table is blissfully clean, which only adds to Bucky’s good mood. Sipping from his mug, he nods in appreciation when he sees that the keys are even hung up by size and function, something that even he doesn’t do for days at a time.
“Busy man,” he murmurs. It must have been slow last night—something Bucky will know for sure once he’s checked yesterday’s receipts—and Steve’s an overly-thoughtful friend, not to mention employee.
At one point, shortly after he opened, Bucky tried to make Steve a co-owner, out of gratitude for the amount of time and money his friend had put into his business. Steve staunchly refused; he didn’t mind contributing, but this was Bucky’s business, not his, he reasoned.
“Besides,” He said, smiling with a glint in his eyes. “You need this kind of responsibility.”
Bucky still rolls his eyes at that, but he let the matter drop. It doesn’t stop him from calling Steve co-owner in his head though.
The heat’s finally kicked in, and with his hot coffee and wool sweater, Bucky feels comfortably wrapped up, as if he’s still snuggled under his comforter. He may have not wanted to leave the house this morning, had even almost called Steve to open instead, but this feeling of contentment makes him glad he got out of bed.
Steve’s right; this responsibility, this stability really is something Bucky needs.
He brings the rubberbanded pile of receipts to the front counter and is about to count them when something catches his eye through the front window. Frowning, Bucky moves to check it out.
The town square is absolutely picturesque, with the falling snow that covers the tops of the trees and rooftops of the surrounding buildings. A few cars drive by, but the roads are largely quiet, and only a few people are out walking around, enjoying the snow like Bucky was. So far, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary.
Then he finally spots it. Past the large maple tree, Bucky can make out a bright purple coat at the top of a ladder.
An incredibly wobbly ladder.
Lord.
“What’s he putting up this time?” Bucky wonders out loud in slight exasperation, sipping at his coffee. Across the town center, he watches as the man in the purple coat tries to hang a large banner above his shop window. He’s standing at the very top, leaning precariously to the left and the right as he attempts to fasten the corners. It’s making Bucky nervous, with how far the other man is willing to rock on the ladder just to get closer to the hooks. Below him, a girl in a lavender coat and matching hat watches, hands on her hips.
He’s talked to her enough times to know she’s probably yelling at the guy. Her name is Kate, and she had first greeted Bucky with an appreciative once-over and a plate of cookies when she stopped by his store. Bucky smirks at the memory; he likes her, she’s headstrong like he is.
The blonde, Clint, on the other hand, he’s only talked to once at a town meeting some months ago. He had just opened his business, and everyone had wanted to meet him. While Kate went around beforehand introducing herself and exchanging numbers, Clint knocked out greeting the other shopkeepers all at once at the meeting. Bucky had shaken hands with him, talked a little bit about his business, and then quickly moved back to his usual place at the edge of the crowd. He’s nice, a little chatty with a gorgeous smile, but that’s all Bucky really knows.
And clumsy, he thinks, as he sees Clint nearly topple off the ladder. He’s saved only by clutching the brick surround on the window, though he drops the banner in the process. Bucky starts, little good that does for the other guy, and watches Kate run over to help steady the ladder. He swears he can hear her yelling from here, but she still hands the banner back up to the blonde.
It takes Clint a few more tries before succeeding, and Bucky watches the whole thing, draining his mug.
When it’s finally up, he has to shuffle over slightly to read the whole thing behind the tree, and he immediately scoffs.
Now Is The Winter Of Our Discount Tents!
“Is-is that a fumigation joke? Lord.” he groans. Clint’s love affairs with promotional signs is no secret, he and the rest of the square had found out real quick. While everyone else uses them occasionally, Clint has a steady stream of them on his window, changing them nearly every third week. The ladder escapade is not the first one Bucky’s watched, and he’s sure it won’t be his last.
But the worst part are the corny messages. Those really get to Bucky. They’re terrible, and they only get worse with each advertisement Clint puts up.
During the summer that he opened, they had a sign saying, Holy Moley! Our New Location is Finally Open! Complete with cartoon little moles scampering around the text.
Shortly after that: Don’t Avoid Those unwANTed Guests! Call Hawkeye Exterminators Today!
One right after the other, and Clint has only been here for a little over six months.
But this one, Bucky supposes, probably slides into the top five of the worst signs he’s seen yet, though he does begrudgingly give Clint points for the literary allusion.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, and when he pulls it out Bucky notices the time before he sees the text from Steve, and curses. He’s supposed to be opening in five minutes, and he’s not even close to finishing prepping the store!
Watching the other two for just a moment longer, Bucky turns away from the window to go count the register.