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The sun has barely begun to set, but the air has already cooled slightly since the hottest time of the day had passed. T’challa loosens the tie around his neck as he steps into the air conditioned corner coffee shop that he had been frequenting all week. The place is almost empty, just a single customer at the register, and a couple chatting at one of the tables by the window. This is why he prefers to stop by at the end of the day.
Sure enough, the now familiar man behind the counter glances up and his face breaks into a smile when his gaze lands on the newest customer in the place.
T’Challa can’t help the smile that pulls at his own lips as he approaches the counter. He watches the other man—Bucky—as he makes a drink for the guy before him. What a silly name he had thought to himself when he read it on his name tag the first day he stepped into the shop. It had been late, certainly not the time of day for coffee. But he was exhausted after a long day of endless meetings—diplomacy is not his favorite part of politics. But he was tired and all he wanted was a hot drink. So he stumbled into the first coffee shop he spots. The sleek metal prosthetic arm of the guy serving him wasn’t the only thing that caught his eye that day.
“Name?”
“T’Challa.”
The other man pauses. His slender fingers holding the permanent marker to the cup still, and his eyes flicker up to meet the customer’s face, lips parted slightly.
T’Challa wonders if he needs to repeat himself, and he’s just about to open his mouth to spell it out when the other guy—Bucky, from his name tag—suddenly nods like nothing is out of the ordinary, and proceeds to make his coffee.
“Are you new in town?”
T’Challa glances up in surprise. He’s a bit tired for small talk, but he gives a nod of his head.
“Welcome to DC,” the other man says, throwing a wide smile over his shoulder in his direction. “Business or pleasure?”
“Business,” T’Challa says shortly.
“Are you here long?”
“Just until the end of the week.”
Bucky turns, placing a lid on the steaming cup on coffee in his metal hand. He sets it on the counter, a brilliant smile still gracing his face. “Well, I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you,” T’Challa says politely. It’s not until he’s out the door that he notices the scrawl on the side of the cup.
Hot guy.
He returns to the same small coffee shop at every opportunity after that. Always in the morning to start the day, frequently in the late afternoon for a coffee break, and sometimes even right before closing. His driver is starting to get concerned about his caffeine intake. But it’s always worth it just to see Bucky’s face light up at the sight of him. Also, to see what other names the guy scribbles on his order.
Stud.
Cutie.
Gorgeous.
Hottie.
One time all he got on his cup was a little drawn heart. He couldn’t help but grin stupidly at that one as he climbed back into his car.
“Back to the hotel, your highness?”
“Yes, thank you.” T’challa avoids his driver’s eyes in the rear view mirror, slightly embarrassed by his behavior. He feels like a teenager again. Which is silly, he hasn’t had a crush in years.
And now he’s back. Again.
“I wasn’t sure I’d see you again today.”
“How could I not come in for my evening coffee?” T’Challa says lightly.
“I probably shouldn’t say this for the sake of business, but I’m a little concerned by the amount of coffee you drink,” Bucky says with a laugh. “The usual, I assume?”
“You serve good coffee,” T’Challa says with a nod. The truth is it’s decent. He’s had better. “The company is pretty good too,” he adds as an afterthought.
Bucky looks up in surprise. It’s not often that T’Challa ever acknowledges his flirtations. Most of the time he simply takes his coffee with a small smile. Bucky blinks and quickly looks back down to his task at hand.
T’Challa grins to himself. This marks the first time he’d seen the other man embarrassed. It’s very cute.
“Sadly, I will not have many more opportunities to enjoy it.”
“You’re leaving?” Bucky asks, looking up at him.
T’Challa nods. “I think I will stay for the weekend, but… my business in town is over. I’ll be heading home after that.”
“And where is home?” Bucky asks softly.
“Home is… very far away.”
“Oh. Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed.” Bucky walks over and gently places the cup on the counter between them. “I was kind of hoping we could—”
The sound of the door opening cuts him off and has them both turning their heads to the front door.
It’s T’Challa’s driver, and he waves a cell phone in his hand.
“Your highness, Princess Shuri is on the line. Would you like me to take a message?”
T’Challa winces at the formality but he nods, only just noticing the missing weight from his jacket pocket. “Yes, thank you. And tell her I’ll call her back soon.”
The man nods and makes his exit.
T’Challa turns back to the man behind the counter who is currently staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes.
“Y-your h-highness?” Bucky stutters. “Wh-what are you a king or something?”
“Prince actually. Crown prince of Wakanda.”
“Oh my god,” Bucky whispers, looking aghast. If possible, his eyes get even wider as he stares in shock. “Oh my god—I wrote stud muffin on your coffee cup this morning!” Bucky moans, bringing both hands up to grip his hair in distress. “Oh my god, I—I didn’t—oh god!”
T’Challa chuckles softly. “Really, it’s not a big deal—”
“I am so embarrassed,” Bucky says, mortified. “I am so sorry!”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” T’Challa insists.
“I—I wrote you have a cute butt on your cup yesterday!”
“I appreciated that one!” T’challa says jokingly.
They both pause for a moment, until their eyes simultaneously look down at the cup sitting between them. T’challa’s eyes flicker back up to Bucky, whose cheeks have taken a distinctly rose colored tint. Slowly, he reaches out a hand and spins the cup until Bucky’s familiar scrawl is visible.
It’s his phone number.
When he glances up again, Bucky looks like he wants to crawl underneath the counter and never come back up again.
“I can’t believe this is happening…” Bucky whispers.
“Bucky,” T’Challa says gently. “What time do you get off work tonight?”
Bucky blinks. “11:30,” he finally says softly.
“Would you like to join me for a very late dinner?”
Bucky stares at him, as if trying to decide if he’s messing with him or not. He swallows and eventually gives a small smile. “I—I would love to,” he says softly. “Y-your highness.”
T’Challa chuckles and grins widely himself. “You can drop the formality. It’s weird enough, talking to a guy named Bucky.”
Bucky shrugs his shoulders. “You can call me James if that’s better. Hell, you can call me whatever you want,” he says with a small laugh.
T’challa picks up the coffee cup and glances down at the number scribbled on it. “Thank you, James. I’ll see you at 11:30.” He gives him one last smile before turning towards the door. He can feels James’ eyes on him every step of the way.
He keeps grinning as he climbs into the backseat of car waiting for him at the curb. He knows his driver is watching him through the mirror but he doesn’t bother trying to hide his smile, even as the other man hands him his phone.
He’s got a date to look forward to.