Recipe for Romance: A Bucky Barnes Story

25: Danger in the Dark

Tonight's a good night. It's a Wednesday, my favorite day, and only twelve hours before we leave for Oregon. It's my last shift at La Poubelle. After tonight I'll never have to see shitty Chef Dupont ever again. Better yet? I get the rest of my credits towards finishing my final program at ICE.

Yep, tonight's gonna be good.

"Clocking out, Pupoce?"

My head tilts up and back to grin up at Moreau. "For the very last time, Mo."

Moreau plants an exaggeratingly sad frown on his heavy-set face. "We are going to miss you," he sighs.

My fingernails click the electronic screen of the micros computer. "Ah, Mo—don't worry. I'll be having my own shop here soon and you're gonna be my head chef; remember?"

Moreau grins. "Yes, I know. I don't have any doubts that you'll accomplish all of that and so much more."

The churning noise of the receipt printer only makes me long for the soft whirring of Bucky's arm back home. The noises from the quiet kitchen are meek compared to the ruckus during our dinner shift today. It's past midnight now and cleanup is just finishing. The dishwasher boys must be exhausted—I know I am.

"Are you sure you don't want that position on the line?"

I laugh, "I'm sure, Mo. Stark's got enough work to keep me busy—especially with all of his summer parties coming up. Besides, I'd kill myself before working another day under Dupont."

Moreau gives me a crooked grin and a ruffle of my fluffy curls. "Okay, okay, I guess I'll let you go then. It really won't be the same without you though."

Katie, who wears street clothes now after her uniform change in the back bathroom, comes waltzing from behind. "That's an understatement. Maybe I'll actually get some work done without your constant storytelling." She shoots me a wink.

"Please—like you weren't begging for Avenger's gossip," I laugh.

"You never gave me Captain America's cell number like I asked, so I have a hard time forgiving you."

My favorite server Chris comes by. He smacks his greasy hands on his apron with a grunt. "Please, Katie. The last thing you need is to be dating a superhero. You can hardly handle any of the losers you pick up on Tinder."

"Ouch," I snort. Moreau rolls his eyes with an unhappy grunt. I'm really the only person he likes around here anymore. He could do without the others' banter.

"Sadie handles it just fine; and she hasn't had a real boyfriend in, what? Two years?"

"A year and a half, actually. And I handled the last one very well, mind you. It was his handle on the concept of monogamy that really fucked us up." I glance up to Moreau. "Pardon my French, Mo."

Katie pulls out her bag from the lockers we all linger by. "Here," she says with outstretched reach. There's a box in her hands. "From all of us." She smirks with those pretty teeth behind the bright red lips to contrast the black hair. "Besides Dupont; that ass couldn't care less."

My heart swells up a size. "Aww guys..."

"Don't cry on us, bitch," Katie chuckles. "Just take the damn thing and open it when you get home to that hot soldier boy-toy of yours."

So I hug each of them goodbye—lingering a bit longer with Moreau than the others. I make the big man a big promise that he'll be the first name on my list when I open that dream bakery of mine. He walks me to the door with a crooked grin and a tattooed knuckle wave. I send him off with a wave of my own before crossing to the other side of the street in the late night New York City darkness.