T'Chucky One Shots

{•3•}

T'Challa's only in town for business, but that doesn't explain why he keeps going back to the coffee shop with the cute guy behind the counter.

The sun has barely begun to set, but the air has already cooled slightly since the hottest time of the day had passed. T'Challa loosens the tie around his neck as he steps into the air conditioned corner coffee shop that he had been frequenting all week. The place is almost empty, just a single customer at the register, and a couple chatting at one of the tables by the window. This is why he prefers to stop by at the end of the day.

Sure enough, the now familiar man behind the counter glances up and his face breaks into a smile when his gaze lands on the newest customer in the place.

T'Challa can't help the smile that pulls at his own lips as he approaches the counter. He watches the other man—Bucky—as he makes a drink for the guy before him. What a silly name he had thought to himself when he read it on his name tag the first day he stepped into the shop. It had been late, certainly not the time of day for coffee. But he was exhausted after a long day of endless meetings—diplomacy is not his favorite part of politics. But he was tired and all he wanted was a hot drink. So he stumbled into the first coffee shop he spots. The sleek metal prosthetic arm of the guy serving him wasn't the only thing that caught his eye that day.

"Name?"

"T'Challa."

The other man pauses. His slender fingers holding the permanent marker to the cup still, and his eyes flicker up to meet the customer's face, lips parted slightly.

T'Challa wonders if he needs to repeat himself, and he's just about to open his mouth to spell it out when the other guy—Bucky, from his name tag—suddenly nods like nothing is out of the ordinary, and proceeds to make his coffee.

"Are you new in town?"

T'Challa glances up in surprise. He's a bit tired for small talk, but he gives a nod of his head.

"Welcome to DC," the other man says, throwing a wide smile over his shoulder in his direction. "Business or pleasure?"

"Business," T'Challa says shortly.

"Are you here long?"

"Just until the end of the week."

Bucky turns, placing a lid on the steaming cup of coffee in his metal hand. He sets it on the counter, a brilliant smile still gracing his face. "Well, I hope you enjoy your stay."

"Thank you," T'Challa says politely. It's not until he's out the door that he notices the scrawl on the side of the cup.

Hot guy.

He returns to the same small coffee shop at every opportunity after that. Always in the morning to start the day, frequently in the late afternoon for a coffee break, and sometimes even right before closing. His driver is starting to get concerned about his caffeine intake. But it's always worth it just to see Bucky's face light up at the sight of him. Also, to see what other names the guy scribbles on his order.

Stud.

Cutie.

Gorgeous.

Hottie.

One time all he got on his cup was a little drawn heart. He couldn't help but grin stupidly at that one as he climbed back into his car.

"Back to the hotel, your highness?"

"Yes, thank you." T'Challa avoids his driver's eyes in the rear view mirror, slightly embarrassed by his behavior. He feels like a teenager again. Which is silly, he hasn't had a crush in years.