Stucky One Shots

Number Nineteen- Meat Is Meat

Steve walks up to the diner, hands in his pockets as he reads the sign. He'd never heard of the place before but apparently it had high recommendations. He shrugs a little to himself before walking in. The door creaked and a dingy bell dinged. He looks around the place; it was dirty and flies buzzed around. He frowns a little and sees an old lady hunched over the counter, scrubbing it vigorously with a rag. He observes everything and frowns a little more; this couldn't be the place, he'd probably taken a wrong turn somewhere.

He turns to leave and feels a hand grip his arm. He turns around to see the lady grasping his arm tightly, her nails digging in.

"Excuse me?" The lady asks, cocking her head to the side. She reminded Steve a little of a crow; her eyes were bright and her motions were jerky, her hair was silvery-brown.

"Sorry, I must be in the wrong place," he explains, pulling his arm away from her. She observes him quietly and blinks slowly, he grabs the door handle and tries to yank it open but she sticks her foot in the way, preventing anything from happening.

"Dear boy, has nobody told you?" She cackles which turns into a hacking cough. Steve knew now would be the time to leave, but he was stubborn and curious.

"Told me what?" He asks hesitantly, folding his arms securely across his chest. She smiles, a toothless grin, grabs his arm and pulls him close. She licks her thin lips as she looks him up and down.

"You're in my place, now, boy. Good luck getting away from Ms. Birdsong," she cackles and he doesn't know to be amused or confused, both would work. He went with simply amused because there was no way this was real. A publicity stunt, something to raise charity money, maybe he stumbled across a famous tourist attraction.

"Ms. Birdsong. Right, well, I have somewhere to go. Sorry, ma'am," he tries, again pulling from her grasp. Her smile fades and her eyes narrow a little.

She starts chanting something and Steve frowns. He wasn't superstitious but this was just creepy. He forces the door open and hurries out, he slams the door behind him but the chanting was ringing in his ears, sending chills up his spine. He shakes his head forcefully and gets into his car, and he drives off.

///

"Hey, Steve, how're things goin'?" Steve's best friend Bucky Barnes asks, the phone pressed to his ear as he folds laundry with his other hand.

"Fine, fine," Steve replies distractedly, driving along.

"Really. What's going on, then?" He asks conversationally, folding a shirt.

"Just went to a new diner. It's probably some type of haunted house thing," Steve says, more to himself than Bucky. The man on the other end pauses for a second or two.

"Really," he replies with and Steve frowns a little.

"Yeah, why?" He asks, not liking the tone of voice Bucky had adopted.

"Nothing, I've just been there myself. Kinda creepy, yeah," Bucky chuckles half-heartedly and Steve feels suspicious.

"Ah," is all he replies with, pulling into the driveway of his place.

"So anyway, what're you doing tonight? Sharon comin' over?" He asks, faking niceties about Sharon. Steve knew he hated her guts, and vice versa, and that's why he never really saw much of her because of Bucky. Who would he rather have, a girl or his best friend?

"No, I don't think so," he responds and he's pretty sure he hears Bucky sigh softly, in relief.

"Well, good, 'cause I'm comin' over tonight," Bucky says and Steve raises an eyebrow, unlocking his door.