This Is Stella's Reality

June 29, 2014

Summer rain showered around Bucky and I as we jogged to reach the cover of New York scaffolding. Neon signs and headlights reflected in the puddles and windows around us and lit up the atmosphere.

"You really picked a great night to go out," Bucky joked beside me. His voice was drowned out by the roar of drain pipes and honking horns. The curliness of his hair bounced to life as the rain washed out whatever gel he had combed through it. His grey eyes were disco balls of red, yellow, and blue as they mirrored back the lights around us.

I laughed and started leading Bucky down the sidewalk, "Sorry to drag you out in the rain, Buck."

We reached a pair of glass double doors, and Bucky stepped around me to open the door. He motioned his hand for me to go in first and herded me into the warm bar. The dim glow of the yellow lights overhead shown vibrantly against the dark mahogany of the bar and tables, like honey dripping down the sides.

Bucky placed his hand on my back as he glanced around, "Do you want to sit at the bar or a table?"

"Either is fine; I don't mind."

His hand remained on my back as he walked me to the end of the bar where it was quiet and the music thumped gently through the speakers nearby. He pulled a stool out for me and pulled the stool to the right out for himself.

A bartender approached us and set menus down in front of us, "Hey, do you need a minute?" It was an impossibly small menu.

"Yes, please," Bucky glanced at him, and the bartender nodded and turned to greet other guests.

"So, Bucky," I kept studying the tiny menu as I felt his eyes turn to me, "you know how to drive, right?"

I glanced at him quickly, and his eyebrows knitted together in confusion, "Is that a serious question, doll? Of course I know how to drive." He paused and laughed, still confused, "Why do you ask?"

I hummed, thinking of how to best bring this up; "I'm just making sure. Steve can't get drunk, can you?"

Bucky looked even more confused now, "What does that have to do with whether or not I can drive?"

"Well, whenever the team goes out, Steve doesn't come because he hates being recognized, so I always get stuck being the designated driver." I turned in my stool to face him, "I was wondering because," I gave him a smile, attempting to placate any annoyance he might have with me, "I'm going to get drunk tonight, and you're going to take me home."

Bucky's laugh echoed in the cozy space, "Well, doll, luckily for you, I can't get drunk. I've tried." He shook his head and picked up the menu near him, "Alright, sure, I'll drive us home." Bucky smiled down at the bar, "I'll take care of us tonight, you just have fun."

I searched his face for any sign of actual irritation, "Are you sure, Bucky? I don't want to make you annoyed."

He turned to look at me and cocked his eyebrow, before he could form his rebuttal, the bartender approached again, "How are we tonight? Ready to order?"

"Do you know what you want, doll?"

"Uh, not really. The guys usually order for me. I don't know much about alcohol."

Bucky huffed a laugh, "What flavor do you like?"

"Fruity. And I know I shouldn't drink tequila."

I saw Bucky grin as he looked up at the bartender, "Can my girl get a vodka sunrise, and I'll have a whiskey sour." The bartender nodded and turned to make our drinks.

Bucky swiveled in his stool to look at me again. He looked amused, "And why can't you have tequila?"

I smiled as innocently as I could at him, "I told you, Buck. I don't want to make you any more annoyed with me than you already are."