Chapter Text
God damn it.
All Bucky wanted was to buy a chocolate bar and eat it before it had time to melt, but nothing could ever be easy. He was waiting in line in a bodega and a guy farther up was making a real ass of himself. Bucky clenched his fists but held his temper. In spite of the August heat, he was in a hoodie and a cap, trying his best to stay unnoticed. A fight was all he needed and he counted three cameras in the room. That would definitely make the news.
International Terrorist Turned Avenger, James Barnes, Punches Some Asshole in a Bodega! More on this developing story at 11
“Oh god!” the jerk groaned to the woman in front of him. “You know, legally, if he’s buying lottery tickets, you can go ahead of him. We don’t have to wait.”
“He looks like he’s almost done,” she replied quietly, shoulders slightly hunched.
It’s none of your business, Buck.
“Finally!” the guy barked as the man in front left with his lottery tickets.
“Hello, how’s your day going?” The woman at the front of the line was now pointedly addressing the lady at the counter, ignoring the man behind her, who still hadn’t really stopped talking, already ranting about how long she was taking. The cashier looked at her and then at the jerk, nodding uncomfortably.
“God, take your fucking time, Christ!” A little voice in the back of Bucky’s head reminded him that Steve would definitely have intervened by now, but Bucky wasn’t Steve. He never had been and he needed to stay out of it.
“Yes, just the pop, thank you,” The lady behind the counter smiled and rang her up.
“Pop? Where the fuck are you from, the south? Is that why it’s taking you an hour to buy a couple sodas?”
She didn’t acknowledge him, just paid quickly.
“Thank you! I hope your day gets better!” the woman said, and the cashier smiled warmly at her as she turned to leave.
“Fucking finally!” He turned his attention to the lady behind the counter. “But wait, let me guess, you don’t speak English…”
The other woman rounded on him. “You don’t have to be so rude.”
Oh no.
“What did you say to me, bitch?”
“You heard me. Just buy your shit. You don’t have to be an ass about it.”
Of course. Bucky should have known that there were no shortage of Steve-like punks out there, willing to pick fights they wouldn’t win against people who wouldn’t learn. He sighed. He was definitely going to end up involved in this.
“None of your business! You fucking done?”
“You know what? No. I’m not. Apologize to the lady.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
The woman turned to square with the other customer, planting her feet and narrowing her eyes, and Bucky got his first solid look at her through the crowd. She was tall, maybe 5’9”, with long, dark hair pulled into a braid and olive skin, and she was dressed like she worked in a garage, with grease-stained jeans and a dingy hoodie over a tank top.
Pretty, he thought, in passing.
The man, who for all her height towered over her, laughed at her for a second and then, without hesitation and before Bucky had time to respond, punched her, knocking her to the floor. One of the handles tore off of her bag and her drinks rolled away. Bucky stepped toward them, through the crowd, the rest of which was backing away. She had already scrambled back to her feet.
“You’re fucking pathetic!” She spat the words at him and he reared back to hit her again. Bucky caught his arm this time and put him into an easy sleeper hold. He was out in a matter of seconds, and the woman took a moment to glare at him before bending to retrieve her drinks.
“Hey, you alright?” Bucky looked quickly back and forth from the woman, to the unconscious man, to the cashier, who was cowering behind the register.
“Yeah, sorry, I just…” she put her drinks back into what was left of the bag, bracing it against her side to keep everything from falling back out. She smiled back at him and then recognition dawned across her face and her eyes grew wide. “Sergeant Barnes! Sorry! I… shit!” She fumbled with her bottles, but managed to hold onto them.
“Shhh.”
He looked around to the other customers, who had all stepped out of dodge. The cashier held up her hands in surrender.
“Keep candy!”
“No! I’m not tryin’ to…”
“Please!”
He sighed, putting a five onto the counter and pocketing the chocolate bar, knowing it would melt, before picking up the unconscious man. He threw him casually over his shoulder and headed for the door, with the woman who had picked the fight (well, no, she really hadn’t) on his heels.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to… thank you for helping me. Where are you taking him?”
“There’s a police station a coupla’ blocks from here.”
“Right, of course.”
She followed him there and he just carried the man right through the front doors of the precinct, setting him down on a bench near the counter.
“Ay, what’s this?”
The officer behind the counter craned to see the unconscious man.
“He punched the lady so I put him out. He should wake up soon, but I’m pretty sure he’s on something. Very aggressive—agitated.”
“And, uh, who’re you?”
“James Buchanan Barnes. I work…”
“Sir! Yes sir, I’m sorry, sir. Um… thank you, sir.”
The man saluted him. It made Bucky’s skin crawl.
“No problem.”
“You, lady. You alright? You wanna file charges? Maybe we can have someone check you out?”
Bucky looked at her and she blinked at the cop. “Um… not necessary, thank you.”
“Right. Well… have a nice day, then. Thank you again, sir.”
“You don’t have to call me sir.”
“Ay, any friend of Captain America is a friend of New York, sir.”
Bucky nodded uncomfortably and turned to leave. The woman followed him. They walked a couple of blocks together before he turned to face her.
“Hey, sorry I didn’t step in sooner. Is, uh... is your face okay?” Her cheek was bright red where she had been hit and he could tell it would bruise.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, it’s seen worse.” She laughed, cradling her cheek for a second. “Besides, that’s what I get for antagonizing him.”
“Well, the way he was acting, if it hadn’t been you, it woulda been someone else.”
“Point.”
“So, um… where’re you headed? I can walk you, if you’re worried about running into any more trouble.”
She grinned. “I’m not, but I suspect we’re headed in the same direction. Avenger Tower?”
He blinked at her. “Yeah. I’m sorry, do you work there?”
“I do!” She shifted her bag and offered him a hand, cold from holding her drinks. “Lydia Russell. R&D for Stark Industries.”
He shook it.
“Bucky. Um… Sam Wilson’s entourage.”
She laughed. “No, you’re not, but okay. It’s an honor to meet you, Sergeant Barnes. Sam says only good things.”
She let go of his hand, sweeping a few errant strands of hair out of her eyes, which he suddenly noticed were a very dark green-ish something. Pretty.
“Bucky, please, and I… don’t believe that for a second. How do you know Sam?”
“I do a lot of maintenance on his suit.”
He nodded, unsure of what else to say, and gestured ahead, that they should resume walking. She started toward the tower and he followed her, paying mild attention to the way she held the torn bag and the way little wisps of her hair caught in the breeze and her slightly uneven gait. As they approached the building, he ran ahead and used his badge to open the door, holding it for her. She thanked him and they proceeded to the elevator. He used his badge again, hitting the 92nd floor.
“Where ya headed?”
“76, please.”
He pressed the button and they stood in uncomfortable silence, as the carriage ascended. The elevator dinged when they reached her floor and she stepped out, turning around and reaching back through the door to shake his hand, dropping her drinks.
“Shit!”
She dropped to the floor, grabbing one before it could roll away and reaching for the other. He beat her to it and extended a hand to help her up. She took it, standing and taking the other bottle from him.
“Sorry! Sorry.”
He smiled at her—he couldn’t help it. “It’s fine. You sure you’re alright?”
“Hm? Oh yeah. Yeah, I’m kind of a mess, I mean, in general, but this…” she gestured with one bottle to the bruise blossoming on her cheek, “it’s all good.”
He stepped back into the elevator, still grinning. “If you say so. Um… take care of yourself?”
“You too! I mean, I’m sure you can. Eh… have a nice day!”
“You too.”
The elevator doors closed and he sighed, leaning his weight back against the wall, and prodding the mushy chocolate bar in his pocket. Oh well.