A series of one shot chapters about Bucky Barnes mostly told in the first person by different people. Stories will reflect different times in the life of James Buchanan Barnes. This is PG rated and any sexual content will be kept to a minimum.
Mar...
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The pickup truck filled with furniture parked in my parking stall wasn't the first sign that my lousy day was destined to continue into the evening. The day had started well enough. My alarm went off on time, the coffee maker didn't blow up, and I didn't burn the toast. Once I arrived at the Library all hell broke loose when a bathroom on the second floor experienced a burst pipe sending water out towards the book stacks. The water soaked the carpets and the Library manager had to call in a plumber to fix the pipe, then a cleanup team to wet vac most of the second floor while all of us staff that weren't working the circulation desk had to remove the bottom level of books in every stack to keep them away from the moisture. It was tedious work, especially since we couldn't kneel on the wet floor, for obvious reasons.
On the way home I stopped off at my favourite pizza place, ordered a loaded pizza then went to the liquor store a few doors down to get a six pack of beer to go with the pizza. As I got closer to the apartment building I could smell the tantalizing scents of the large pizza and began to think of how it would taste when I arrived home. My plan was to change into sweat pants and a T-shirt then relax on the couch and binge watch the latest season of The Mandalorian. It was all brought to a screeching halt when I saw the pickup truck backed into my parking stall, the one I paid a premium for so that I was close to the door.
I pulled up in front of it and got out of my car, staring at it with my hands on my hips. Two men came out of the door of the apartment building and approached the truck.
"Hey, this is my parking stall," I said to the closest one, a muscular dark skinned man. "Would you mind?"
"Uh, Buck," he said to the other man, a tall muscular man with dark hair and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. "We're in someone's parking spot."
He looked at me. "Sorry, this is where the manager told me to park," he said. "I have to get my stuff in."
"Well, it's my spot," I insisted. "I pay extra for it so that I don't have far to walk to the door. What unit are you in?"
"302," he said. "I'll go ask him where I'm supposed to park. You can park there until we're finished unloading and then I'll put the truck where it's supposed to be."
"Fine, do that," I snapped, thinking of my pizza getting colder. It also meant he was my next door neighbour. "I'll wait."
Exasperated he looked at the other guy and headed back into the apartment building in search of the building manager. The other man stood there, slightly embarrassed.
"Sorry about this," he said. "Seriously, the manager said we could park here. You don't happen to know where Buck's spot is do you?"
I pointed towards the far end of the parking lot. He winced and looked back at the door. A few minutes later the dark haired man, Buck, returned shaking his head.
"He's not in his suite," he said. "Listen, if you know where I'm supposed to park just park there for now and we'll try to get this done as soon as we can. I can even switch both vehicles once I'm done."
