"Oh, fuck me."
You were crawling around on some random club's floor at about ten in the morning searching for your phone and you accidentally touched something sticky, looking at your hand in disgust. Thankfully, it was just a piece of chewed gum and not something you would have to burn your finger off for. Just as you were about to carefully get up, avoiding the table's edge, you heard a deep voice.
"At least let me buy you dinner first, doll."
You rolled your eyes, not being able to help the smile that crossed your lips in amusement and got up to face the stranger.
He was in dark jeans, a black tee shirt, and he had a leather jacket on over that with a beat-up ball cap on his head. He was scruffy and handsome, but the smirk on his face told you he had noticed what you were still wearing from last night.
You were in the shortest red dress you owned that might've went up a little too far while you were on the floor, but you stood your ground, not letting him think you were embarrassed, and picked up the black heels you had set on the table before you got under it.
"Y/n." You offered your hand, and he shook it with a cheeky grin.
"James, but everyone calls me Bucky."
You noticed the dog tags dangling from his neck and smiled softly at the thought of him being a veteran.
But you still had a missing phone and less than two hours before you had to be somewhere, so you nodded politely before turning back around to continue your search.
"Nice to meet you, Bucky, see you around!" You called, crossing the club towards the stage where you just vaguely remembered doing terrible karaoke with your friends.
"Missing something?" He asked, following you casually, and you huffed, thinking maybe you wouldn't be able to shake this guy so easily.
"Yeah, my shift at the shelter," You told him honestly, cursing yourself for being so careless as to lose something in one of the grossest clubs you've been to in a while, "...and my phone."
"I'll help you look." He kindly offered, going around to the tables before you could politely decline, and you sent him a smile of thanks when he caught your eye, nodding in response.
With Bucky's help, you were able to find your phone in twenty minutes flat, and you were now thoroughly embarrassed because he had retrieved it from the men's bathroom when he went to use it.
"Sometimes the women's has a long line." You mumbled, taking the now disease-ridden phone from him gratefully.
"Not because you were hooking up with some guy and it fell out of your pocket." He smirked teasingly and you glared up at him.
"You think you're cute?" You shot back and he shrugged guiltily with a shit eating grin, "If I was doing that, I would've just said it, and it'd be less embarrassing than having to use the toilet bad enough to join piss drunk guys taking a fucking-"
"Whoa, whoa," He put up his hands, trying to slow you down, "I wasn't judging."
"Good," You took a deep breath, gesturing towards the exit, "Now if you don't mind, I'll be on my dignified way."
You lifted your chin into the air and made your way by the soldier, making you both try to hide your smiles of amusement.
"Do you need a lift home?" He called and you spun around just before reaching the door.
"My mother taught me to never take rides from strangers." You smirked and he shrugged with his hands shoved in his pockets.
"You already know my name."
"Doesn't make you less strange." You teased and he laughed, nodding before he perked up a bit in remembrance of something.
"Would it help if I told you I was an avenger?" He offered, thinking he had you with that.
"Really, really wouldn't," You told him seriously, shaking your head once when you realized who you had been talking to and giving him a salute with a tight smile, "Have a nice life, Bucky Barnes."
He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but you turned around, missing the look of surprise on his face, and let the bright sun hit your eyes, making you squint.
You had about an hour before you needed to be at work, if you could even call it that, so you hailed a cab and got back to your apartment to change. You were already going to be late, keeping the line waiting, but you knew they would just be happy to see you, and it's not like you could be fired when the work you do isn't exactly on the books for this place.
You changed into a black skirt with black booties and a soft yellow sweater since the weather had begun to get a bit nippy lately. It wasn't your nicest attire, but you never wore designer or anything of the sorts here because that tended to just draw more attention in a neighborhood where that wasn't the safest thing to do.
By the time you got to the shelter, you had a line of about fifteen waiting for you, and you brought the cash box out to the table.
It wasn't like you were taking advantage of the less unfortunate, this was just the only place that let you do this before your evening shift where you dished out food for the people actually living here. This was a side business of sorts that earned you extra cash and the person who ran the place, Paige, was fine with you using it for that as long as you never kept it going after one in the afternoon.
"How much?" A man with a deep scar across his cheek asked in a gruff voice, gesturing to the injury, and you smiled kindly before answering him.
"Three hundred."
He nodded expectantly, handing over the bills, and you counted them before putting it in the box. He leaned forward across the fold out table, and you gently pressed your hand to the side of his face, covering the scar. A second later, you pulled away with a satisfied smile, and offered a hand mirror for him to see. His whole face lit up with his toothy grin and people behind him in line started to clap. He thanked you and walked away with a hop to his step, feeling so much better.
"Alright," You glanced around at the people patiently waiting, rubbing your hands, "Who's next?"
