Brooklyn Baby || Stucky

Chapter 1

For my buddy and friend 'till the end, Erich a.k.a Panini Head. For my little sis (and a constant reminder that I am James Buchanan Barnes), Em.

*

The sweet smell of refrigerated frosting filled Bucky's nose when he opened the door, akin to that of an ice cream parlor. Above his head a bell chimed to his arrival, allowing the redhead behind the counter an excuse to look up from her icing job on a very large, and very ugly yellow buttercream cake with bright pink balloons protruding from the surface.

Her face seemed to regain ten years as soon as she saw the man, and Bucky felt bad because, well, that was his cake. He wasn't afraid to admit that it was very fucking ugly. He smiled with pity and approached the register, watching her set the piping tools down. Her hands were covered in food dye stains and spikes of yellow frosting, yet her well-manicured nails disrupted the chaos. Bucky didn't think he'd seen such precise fingers playing with dough and icing.

"Can I help you today?" The woman wiped her hands down the front of her apron and smiled, turning to wash her hands at the sink between a shelf of bread baskets, and a refrigerator of cakes.

Bucky watched her tie her hair up into a small ponytail at the base of her skull. The woman--Natasha, as her nametag said now that it was in his line of sight--positioned herself at the cash register. She had a sly curiosity on her face, like a fox, and her lips quirked up in a knowing smile. He leaned on the counter and smiled, "I'm here to pick up the order for Rebecca Barnes. Uh, and can I have a cup of coffee please?"

Natasha nodded and started tapping away at the old register. A lock of red hair fell into her eyes, and Bucky self-consciously ran a hand through his own dark locks. The redhead printed out a receipt, and clucked her tongue while Bucky signed off and paid.

"Room for cream or sugar?" she asked, turning to the small coffee station at the corner of the counter, and pulling a foam Dixie cup down from the shelf above her. Bucky hummed before shooting off a quick nah, I'm good.

"Hey, Nat," a voice quipped from the unfinished cake. "Want me to finish this up for you?"

Natasha turned and glanced at the yellow monster with a grimace. She popped a lid onto the steaming cup and walked it back to Bucky, who watched the exchange with interest. A tall, muscular man stood next to the end of the counter, his blonde hair speckled with flour and his white tee shirt stained with vanilla extract. She pursed her lips and scrunched her nose up before shaking her head.

"I can do it." She smiles, walking back to her station and glancing at the man, before sighing dramatically and placing her hand on her hip. "Your hands are too clumsy for such detailed work like this, Steve."

The man, Steve, scoffed and rolled his eyes with an exasperated chuckle. He walked to the refrigerator and opened it to take out a brown paper bag. He glanced at Bucky and smiled softly.

"Well, let me know when you finish so we can get it into the box." He walked into the dining area. Steve turns and claps a hand on Bucky's shoulder, holding up the bag. "Hello, Client. You want a sandwich?"

"B'uh... Sure." Bucky says in confusion. He glanced at Natasha, who was diligently working on his order. Steve led his guest to a corner table next to a window, where pedestrians would walk past with no interest. Bucky sat down in the swiveling, laundromat-style chair, and Steve began pulling plastic wrapped sandwiches from the bag. "My name is Bucky, by the way-- Erm, why'd you pack more than enough?"

"My neighbor, Sam, thinks that my metabolism is too fast." Steve smiles, pulling a pint sized container of what looked like steamed vegetables. Bucky stared down at the two sandwiches placed in front of them, and nervously started to unwrap one. Steve started unwrapping his own sandwich before he cries out a small wait.