Sebastian Stan & Bucky Barnes Imagines

Secret: Part One - S.S.

You pull open the door to the cafe you work at and clock in before grabbing your apron and tying it around your waist securely while you move into the area behind the counter. You look up after having finished tying your crude bow and see your coworker and friend, (f/n). A smile finds its way to your lips as you greet her.

"Hey, (f/n). We been busy?" She snorts as she takes a rag from the sink, rings it out and starts wiping off the counter with it.

"Oh yeah. Just like always. You know that rush that always comes in just before you get here? Yeah, it was here again and worse than ever," she replies sarcastically. Both of you giggle at the notion of the little cafe ever being busy enough to constitute a true "rush" of business or terrible ordeal involving customers demanding their coffee right that second. It's true, the little cafe doesn't get much business but it's enough to stay afloat and to serve it's few faithful regulars. It's rather new in the area, you suppose, though you would have thought business would have picked up by now. But you don't mind it as long as a job is guaranteed for you.

You head back into the kitchen area where the customers can't see to get another rag for yourself when you hear the bell hanging over the entrance ring out in a light tone, signaling another customer has arrived. You were about to soak the rag under the faucet when (f/n) pops her head in the doorway to the kitchen area.

"Y/n, can you get the guy at the counter? I need to clean a few tables."

"Sure," you nod and follow her out of the back kitchen. You barely make it a step out the door when you catch a glimpse at the man waiting at the counter. Your eyes go wide at the familiar face and your hand immediately flies and slaps onto (f/n)'s wrist in a tight grip. She turns to you with a confused and bewildered face.

"What--" She doesn't have a chance to finish the sentence because you yank her back inside the kitchen and let the door swing closed. (F/n)'s face still holds shock and a hint of irritation as you stare at her with wide eyes.

"What is the matter with you? Why did you do that?"

"That guy," you say lowly, sounding mildly traumatized.

"What guy? The guy at the counter?" she asks, her eyebrows raised and thumb pointed behind her toward the door to the front counter. You nod quickly like you're in a panic, eyeing the door like it's going to open and reveal a monster.

"What about him? You know him?" You nod again in the same manner. "Well, what are you acting like this for? Did he do something to you?" She said that last question in her "mama" voice. Usually it makes you laugh but you're too surprised right now to even crack a smile. Shaking your head to ease her "mama mode", you start pacing around the small area, sticking one hand into the roots of your hair and resting one on your hip. (F/n)'s eyes follow your movements, her mama mode not yet reined in.

"You sure? Cuz I don't mind showing him what he messed with. All you gotta do is hold my hoops."

"No, (f/n), he didn't do anything to me. He doesn't even know me." She becomes confused again.

"Then why did you act like that?" You sigh.

"Because, I know who he is." You stop pacing and drop your hand to slap on your thigh as you bring you gaze back to (f/n). She takes a moment to stare at you.

"And who is he?"

"He's Sebastian Stan, (f/n)! That guy I've been talking to you about since a week after I started here!"

(F/n)'s face turns to realization and her jaw drops a fraction of an inch.

"That's him?" she asks in a whisper. You nod again silently. "Then what are you doing back here?!" she asks. "You should be out there talkin' it up with him!" Your eyes manage to widen even more.