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winterdrag0n · 2 years

Text

Bucky with a smiley face

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: There’s something in the blue of Bucky’s eyes that comforts you. And there’s something in the smiley face that you draw beside his name that brightens his days. The unspeakable words tie your bond with the man of few words himself who of course notices when you have a bad day.

Warning: Fluff, and a pinch of angst (because god help me, I can't write anything without angst in it).

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N: TBH I didn't think I was physically able to write something fluffy, but reading a lot of fluffy romantic stories from @pellucid-constellations Love Letters Writing Challenge inspired me this little coffee shop AU and my hands were itchy to write this. I hope you like it! This is my submission for the challenge. :)

You haven’t seen him for three days, but you remember he was wearing that black leather jacket over the grey Henley the last time you saw him— it means he hasn’t been home? He looks tired, with dark circles under his eyes and bruises on his left cheek. You know he’s in Avengers business and he did come with cuts and bruises sometimes but your heart still aches seeing him like this.

“One Americano, iced.” He taps his card onto the little machine in front of the iPad that serves as your cash register.

“Thank you. Do you need a receipt?” you ask while pulling a paper cup from a stack and start writing his name on it.

“No, thanks. Oh, it’s B—“

“Bucky. I know.” You smile sheepishly.

He looks at you, his tired eyes sparkle and the corner of his lips curves up a little. That simple motion gives you shivers and your heartbeats drumming so loud you worry Bucky might hear it.

He waves his hand lightly before walking to the end of the counter, waiting for the barista to call his name.

You started working in this coffee shop three months ago and Bucky was your first customer. There was just something about his eyes that radiated warmth and kindness although he didn’t smile in your first encounter. You remembered seeing his metal arm that day and he looked self-conscious so he started to wear gloves afterwards. He always ordered the same thing— Americano, sometimes hot, sometimes with ice. At first he came every day, and then he was MIA for a week, and then he came again for three days straight before he was popping up in the news for saving Senators and the other important people. You knew he was an Avenger and he was out of your league, but seeing him had always been the silver lining in your cloudy days, as you seeked comfort from his blue eyes. And before you even realized it, you were having a major crush on him.

Today is the first time he smiles at you, and at the receiving end of that devilish beautiful smirk, you’re so gone. You know your crush has officially become an infatuation, or worse, you might be in love with him. Is that even possible?

Like usual, you write his name the only way you know how, with a smiley face at the end.

Bucky ☺

And today, you add some words, because that smile makes you greedy. Feeling bold, you can’t help not to let him know how you feel.

‘Glad you’re okay. Rest well.’

***

He skipped coming to the coffee shop yesterday but today he enters the place looking so fresh, as if he slept for the whole day. He taps his fingers in front of your iPad and says, “Flat white, please.”

You look up, looking surprised.

“Yeah, I’m feeling adventurous,” he says cheekily. He’s come a long way from keeping his distance from you to starting a little conversation. He even stopped wearing the gloves, confidently showing the distinctive looking metal.

“That would be $5.20,” you say with a controlled smile.

He taps his card into the machine and says, “Thanks, um— Y/n, right?”

You can feel your cheeks heat up, your name on his lips sound so... unbelievably sexy. You swallow dry air and stammer, “Um, yeah, I—, uh…” And you suddenly forgets how to function like normal human being and stupidly turns your back pretending to look for a paper cup under the cabinet.

Bucky waits until you turn around and face him again to say, “And I’m Bucky… you knew that already.”

You take the sharpie and write his name on the paper cup. “Yeah, got it.”

Bucky ☺

“All right.” He taps his vibranium fingers at the counter again before waving them cooly to you. “See you tomorrow, Y/n.”

There it is again, your name on his lips.

***

“Americano, please,” he says with a gentle tone.

“Oh, you didn’t like the adventure?” you ask earnestly.

“Not a dairy kind of guy.” He grins.

“We have soy milk, or oat milk,” you offer.

“Yeah, no, I think I prefer my coffee black.”

“Sure.” At this rate, you can write his name without even looking.

Bucky ☺

“Thank you, Y/n,” he says while tapping his card to the machine.

“You’re welcome, Bucky.”

He smirks, “That’s the first time you say my name.”

“Oh, sorry, is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course… it just—“ He doesn’t finish that sentence.

“Just…?”

“It feels… weird.”

“Weird?” you ask worriedly.

“No, no. Don’t get me wrong— shit. I’m bad at this. I meant… It felt foreign, but good. Definitely good.” He smiles faintly at you before giving you that look, the kind that makes your knees lose all their strength, you swear you’d fall down if your hands don’t grab the counters.

“See you, around, Y/n.” And then he walks to the end of the counters, leaving you gasping for air.

***

Bucky doesn’t realize he skips his steps on the way to the coffee shop. The Avengers headquarters serve coffee for free and it tastes just as good, but he knows he doesn’t come to the coffee shop for the coffee.

He noticed the way you looked at him whenever he pretended to study the menu— he’d choose Americano anyway, or the way your eyebrows rose the moment he entered the coffee shop. At first he just liked the feeling of being wanted, of knowing someone was longing to see him, especially after a tedious and tiring mission, but lately there’s just something in the way you write his name that makes him finally feel again.

Bucky ☺

There’s something about that smiley face that expresses more than any words could. Along with your shy lopsided smile, they brighten his day.

When you said your name, Bucky had goosebumps all over his good arm. He loved the way his name sounded on your lips. He never thought he could feel like this again, he didn’t even know if it was even possible. You’d unlocked something that he thought hidden forever and you’d thawed what he thought had been frozen.

But today, you look different. Your eyebrows didn’t rise when he entered the coffee shop and he had to clear his throat twice before you finally noticed him.

You smile at him, finally. “What can I get you, Bucky?”

“Just Americano would do,” he replies politely.

Both of you stand awkwardly with a counter separating you. He wants to ask about you, about your day, your favourite movie, about what you’re doing in your free time, or if you’d like to go to the park with him.

But there he is, just standing, saying nothing, while tapping his stupid card onto the stupid machine.

“Thanks, Bucky.” You smile faintly at him, and then turn your body to the side, writing his name on the paper cup.

Letting out a soft sigh, Bucky walks away to the end of the counter. He’s still watching you from the corner of his eyes as you’re smiling at the next customer, taking their orders.

But you seem off and it worries him. He’s trained to read body language and he knows you’re not feeling okay.

The barista puts down the cup on the counter as he calls his name. He nods lightly at him while grabbing the cup and his heart sinks when he reads his name.

Bucky.

Just Bucky, without the smiley face.

He freezes for a while, thinking if he should do something about it, but he’s lived long enough to know better, not to poke his nose into areas that don’t concern him.

Although… you concern him.

***

You watch Bucky’s back as he steps out of the coffee shop. Somehow the lump in your throat gets bigger and hotter and you grit your teeth so your tears won't well up.

You had a sucky morning and you wish you had someone to talk to. You wish Bucky would offer to lend his ear to you, but then the words that your step Father said this morning linger in your mind. ‘Get lost, you useless bitch. You’re just like your Mother, nobody loves you and you’ll die alone!’ You know it’s not true, you know he said mean words whenever he visited and you refused to give him money, but no matter how many times you tell yourself to ignore, sometimes those words manage to infiltrate your fragile heart, especially when the heart has been loving someone one sidedly for so long, growing insecurity upon your self-worth.

You’re helping Jack, the barista, to unpack some soy milks when the door opens and Bucky stands there, like a deer in the headlights, hesitating his steps.

You look at him, his eyes are fixed at you, his mouth agape before he is finally able to move and call your name.

“Yeah?” You answer just as softly as he walks closer to you.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Um… yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why— why do you…” You’re not sure how to finish that sentence.

“You didn’t put a smiley face on my cup.” He raises his brows while showing the papercup to you, his eyes wide and vulnerable, locking yours. “I thought… if maybe… you had a bad day.”

Your heart swells, it skips a beat, you’re not sure what’s happening in your body. A wave of relief rushes over your stomach and your chest suddenly feels so light.

“When does your shift end? You wanna… go for a walk?” He asks, his eyes still glued to yours, telling emotions that words are unable to say.

“His shift is over, actually.” Jack winks at you.

You smile at Jack gratefully, mouthing thank you.

Curving his lips, Bucky offers his right hand to you, his blue eyes are kind and open. You take off your apron and walk around the counter to meet him on the other side. Bucky smiles at you as you take his hand, feeling the warmth of his flesh as it transfers the heat to your contrasting cold hand.

You knew you were right all along. Behind his metal arm, his fully black outfit and grumpy face, Bucky is as warm, as gentle, as generous as the smiley face you’ve drawn on the paper cups. Holding his hand feels familiar, like you’ve known him all along. Your fingers interlacing and it feels so right, like puzzle pieces that finally reunite together, wondering how they survived all those years without one another.

Hopefully, they never have to anymore.

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