The Shot You Need (Stucky fanfic, #coffeeshopau, #fanficfriday)

Chapter 1

~Bucky~ 

 "I wish they'd never found you in the ice." Those words... Bucky should have just ripped out Steve's heart there and then. Bucky hadn't meant it spitefully, he had wished that Steve wouldn't have to witness the monster before him. He had wanted to protect the Captain, not hurt him. Only now working in the Smithsonian coffee shop did Bucky realise that he'd done just that. He'd let the monster inside him win, and in doing so he'd lost everything. Bucky set the clean cup down, the shop empty due to the foul weather outside. Empty... That was a familiar feeling to the soldier.

 The streets were gushing with water and Bucky's hat was now dripping, sinking over his eyes as he locked the door to the shop. He didn't really care that he couldn't see, who would want to see in a world where you didn't belong? That you couldn't even remember. He'd just finished his shift at the coffee shop in the Smithsonian, the one place where he felt at ease, and close to Steve. 

 Lightning forked across the sky as Bucky's arm collided with someone else's walking past. The same man he'd seen the morning before, his figure disguised by a hat and sunglasses as well. 

The man pulled off his sodden hat. "I'm so sorry." 

That voice. Bucky knew that voice, the crisp tenor and welcoming accent: Steve.

 "It's okay," Bucky nodded, attempting to walk on. 

 "Wait," Steve put a hand to Bucky's shoulder. His left shoulder, the part of him that was a monster. "Do I know you?" 

"No, I don't think so," Bucky looked him straight in the eye, the lie more crippling then he thought it would be. 

"Bucky?" Steve's gaze softened, his mouth parting to form an 'o'. 

 "I'm not him anymore," the soldier clenched his jaw, his scruffy features brightened by another lightning strike. "I never will be." 

"I can help you, we'll get through this," Steve stepped closer to Bucky, taking a hold of both of his biceps. "Bucky you're not alone anymore." 

Bucky pulled away from Steve, looking away from him as anger flashed in his eyes. "Why do you have so much faith in me? Why do you care?" 

"Bucky please, I can help you," Steve's voice was raspy as he begged.

"I don't need help, I don't need you," Bucky took another step back. "How can I trust a stranger?"

 Steve sighed before taking a step towards Bucky. "I'm not a stranger Bucky, I'm your best friend Steve Rogers."

 "I know," Bucky mumbled. Steve was getting too close, he was going to get hurt, Bucky was convinced. 

"Then why-" 

"Why am I pushing you away?" Bucky wiped the rain away from his face, his voice rising. "Because there's one thing I wish more than anything." 

"What?" Steve stood in the rain, his features trapped between hurt and hope. 

"I wish they'd never found you in that ice," Bucky snapped, pushing Steve against a lamppost. "I wish that you were still under the ice and not here with me." 

Steve gasped, trying to disguise the sound as a cough before Bucky let go of him. 

The brunette turned on his heel, stalking off into the night.The rain was now mixed with the soldier's steady tears as they flowed down his cheeks. He stopped briefly, turning to see Steve kneeling on the ground, his body being bombarded by cries. "Steve... I'm so sorry," Bucky whispered before leaving. He'd done the right thing, or so he tried to convince himself, but deep inside he knew he'd just lost everything. 

 Blue. Those startling sapphire eyes were making their way to the door of the empty coffee shop. He'd had hoped that the crystalline armada falling from the sky would have deterred the Captain from coming out today. 

Bucky was working a single shift, the manager having gone into an early labour and the other employee off ill. It was bad enough he saw Steve all over the news, haunting him, taunting him. Now it was even worse, Steve had taken to going to the one place Bucky thought he could hide, the place he could be the coward he thought he was: the Smithsonian museum. 

The soldier grimaced before running a gloved left hand over his stubble. He'd found that people didn't respond kindly to who he had been or maybe who he was; the winter soldier a brand he would forever have. The bionic arm a cruel reminder of his sins, of Bucky's inability to blend back into the 21st century. 

 The bell rang as the door opened, a customer Bucky couldn't bear to serve, even if he was his favourite, strolling into the shop. Bucky smiled slightly, remembering the way Steve awkwardly blushed as the female population flirted with him. The way he was so polite to everyone he met. His Steve. The soldier shook his head, banishing the image from his mind as he pulled his ponytail tighter. 

"What can I get you?" Bucky already knew what Steve wanted before he reached the counter. It had been so many years but he would never forget what his best friend liked to drink.

 "Americano please," Steve smiled. "Sit in." 

Bucky nodded, his heart faltering slightly. Steve hadn't recognised him. That was a good thing he tried to persuade himself, it was better that way. He turned to the machine, making the drink. 

 The final drops of coffee created a rippling effect on the surface of the beverage, mimicking the exact effect Steve Rogers was having on Bucky at this exact moment in time. The images of two young boys playing, two grown men laughing flickering through the mind of the soldier as he heard their laughter play in his head. 

 Bucky squeezed his eyes shut before turning and handing Steve his drink. "Two dollars fifty please." 

"Thanks," Steve's hand lightly brushed Bucky's as he paid. 

 Bucky tensed slightly at the contact, the familiar electricity he had once craved pulsating through his body. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds before the Captain picked up his drink and went to sit in a corner by himself. 

The soldier watched the way Steve's muscles rippled under his shirt as he walked. The Captain sat down. Bucky discretely drank in his every move as Steve swallowed some of the beverage. Bucky admired the way Steve's Adam Apple moved in his slender throat, marvelling at how nice it would be to let his lips wander along the Captain's jugular. 

 Bucky turned away, shaking his head. No. He knew it was wrong, that he was endangering Steve. He wasn't the fragile Steve Rogers he had known from Brooklyn, trying to find a way to help win the war. He was Captain America, strong and courageous, he could look after himself. And Bucky was sure the Captain didn't need him, a broken man who had gleaned his identity from a museum exhibition. Steve had the Avengers, Bucky had no one.