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Bucky was nervous. It was his first time out without Sam or Nat since he got out of the hospital. He thought he could do it, he could order coffee by himself, he’s a grown man, but now the man behind him in line is standing too close and that woman has a baby and its crying and maybe this was a bad idea and the place is crowded, there are too many people, he can’t keep track of everyone and--
Breathe. You just need to breathe and calm down, he told himself. You can do this. Bucky took a few deep breaths and turned his attention to cataloguing his surroundings.
The floors were patterned linoleum in shades of tan and red. The walls were gray cinder block with several grey bulletin boards mounted on them. One of the walls was made up of giant windows, looking out onto a busy New York street. There were a multitude of tables and booths, as well as several seating areas with couches and armchairs. Two giant white paper lanterns hung from the ceiling and there were several potted plants mounted on the walls or else making room for themselves on shelves already crowded with old books. People were sitting at tables and on couches around the room. Most of them were young, probably around Bucky’s age, though he felt older. There was one harried looking thirty-something mom with three kids under five in tow. The oldest boy was staring at him.
This was Sam’s favorite cafe. It was just down the street from their apartment, and Bucky had been here with him plenty of times, but never on his own. He usually sat down at the table in the corner while his roommate ordered. The man behind him coughed. Bucky could feel his exhale on his neck, and he stiffened. The line moved and Bucky thankfully shuffled forward away from him.
The little boy was still staring at him. Bucky became aware that he was staring at his arm, or lack thereof. He was wearing long sleeves so the scarring wasn’t visible, but his right sleeve was clearly hanging empty. Bucky shifted uncomfortably, crossing his left arm over his body to rub at his right shoulder. He wanted to tell the kid off. Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to stare? Instead he settled for glaring at him. The kid continued to stare. Bucky continued to glare. He was startled out of the staredown by another cough from behind him, this one rather more pointed than the last. The line had moved again. It was his turn to order.
He approached the counter. The glass case was filled with assorted pastries, fruit, and yogurt. Behind the counter there was a board mounted on the wall detailing the variety of drinks offered and their prices. The barista was blond and tiny, one of the smallest men Bucky had ever seen, and his nametag read “Steve.” He smiled and Bucky blinked. Steve had a really nice smile.
“Hi! What can I help you with today?” Steve’s voice was surprisingly deep. Bucky gave him his order, and Steve set about making his coffee.
“I see you come in here a lot, but you don’t usually come to the counter. Where’s your boyfriend today?” he asked. Bucky was somewhat distracted by Steve’s bright blue eyes, so it took him a moment to realize he meant Sam.
“What? Oh! No! Sam’s not… He’s just a friend. My roommate. I wouldn’t want to, with Sam. Not that I’m not, you know, interested in guys! ‘Cause I am. Gay, that is. Just, not for Sam… And Sam’s not… umm…” Bucky trailed off and blushed, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. Smooth, Barnes. Steve laughed.
“That’s cool. Me too. Also not for Sam.” Steve winked at him. Bucky was pretty sure he was flirting. He didn’t know what to say. He was interested, but it had been a long time. He wasn’t as confident as he used to be, and he couldn't help getting flustered by how cute Steve was. Fortunately, Steve saved him from saying anything by asking a question.
“Did you serve?” he asked and then barrelled on. “I tried to enlist, but they wouldn’t take me. Asthma.”
“Umm, yeah. Afghanistan.” Bucky tried to imagine this guy in a war zone. He looked far too fragile for it. “You wouldn’t have liked it.”
“Maybe not, but I would have liked to have the chance to help out. To help people.”
Bucky nodded. He had no response to this either. He hadn’t joined up for any such noble reasons. He joined because he thought it’d be glamorous. It wasn’t.
Steve, perhaps sensing his reticence over this subject, changed it again. “I’m in art school now instead,” he offered. Bucky was only too happy to jump at the lighter topic.
“Yeah? You any good?” he asked.
“You tell me,” Steve said, gesturing to a painting on the wall to his right, depicting a very beautiful woman. It was gorgeous and so detailed it could almost have passed for a photograph.
“The next Picasso, I’d say,” Bucky replied.
“Aww, thanks. You know Picasso was the one that rearranged people’s faces, right?” Steve joked.
“Alright, you caught me. I know nothing about art. But I still say its good.”
“Thanks,” Steve said, blushing and ducking his head.
The guy behind him cleared his throat, and Steve and Bucky both jumped, startled. At some point during their conversation Steve had finished making his coffee and now Bucky was holding up the line. Blushing, he hurried to pay and leave the shop. On the walk home he mentally kicked himself for being so awkward. His first time out by himself and he managed to scare a small child, inconvenience several people, and ruin his chances with the cute barista. Great job Barnes.
It wasn’t until he was home and about to throw his empty cup out that he noticed the phone number scrawled on its side.
“Huh.” Maybe he hadn’t done so bad after all.