And Then I Wrote Marvel

Prompts 1 and 9

"You've got a beautiful voice."
"I'm fully aware that it's one o'clock in the morning."
Bucky Barnes x Reader

Thanks bucky_the_muffin for requesting!

You were under the impression for a long time that no one knew about your one-person insomnia-induced midnight baking club. Of course everyone knew that you had been baking the day after, but they didn't realize when or why you spontaneously made your baked goods. That impression was proved to be false tonight.

"Shoot me down, but I won't fall, I am vibranium!" you sang, careful not to be so loud as to disturb the people sleeping above you.

"Vibranium?" Bucky's sudden voice from behind you asked, startling you. "Isn't the word titanium?"

"What are you, some ghost?" you questioned, turning around to face him with your hand over your rapidly beating heart. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not that long, but I guess that's long enough. But the word is supposed to be titanium, right?"

"Yeah," you said sheepishly. "I just think that vibranium fits a lot better, you know?"

"Oh, for sure," he agreed, moving over to sit down on one of the bar stools along the other side of the counter. "You've got a beautiful voice, by the way."

"Oh?" you responded awkwardly, your face growing hot while you folded over your puff pastry dough. "I mean, uh, yeah, thanks! I don't really sing a lot around people, so I guess I just don't think about it."

"That's the key, isn't it? Not thinking about it?"

"Oh, man, heck if I know. I just have an ear, I guess," you shrugged.

"Two of 'em, even," he joked.

"When I'm by myself, yeah," you said, "but like I said, I don't sing in front of people."

"That's alright. I'm kind of the same way, actually."

"Really? Never thought Bucky Barnes would have been a choir boy," you chuckled. You wrapped your dough in plastic wrap, getting it ready to put in the fridge.

"I was no choir boy, that's for sure. What are you making?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Puff pastry dough for palmiers," you answered, opening the fridge and setting the dough inside.

"You know how late it is, right?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fully aware that it's one o'clock in the morning."

"Check a clock,  doll. You're way off," he said, laughing at you both because he thought your misconception of time was funny and because he was a little concerned for you.

You turned to the nearest clock, which happened to be on the oven, and blinked a couple of times. "Okay," you said, "so it may be half past three."

"May be?"

"It is half past three," you stated. "But I just have one more set of folds on this dough, and then I can go to bed and bake the cookies in the morning."

"And how long before you can do that?"

"Half an hour," you admitted.

"So it's going to be a while. How long were you planning on sleeping tonight?"

"Oh, honey," you laughed. "Sleep is not simply something one can plan. It comes and goes whenever it darn well feels like it."

"Well, I'm not going to let you stay up all by yourself. Grab this seat next to me here, and maybe..." he paused, then sighed. "No, not maybe . It's midnight karaoke time."

"You're on, choir boy."