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millennialtrashheap · 10 months ago

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Love in Brooklyn pt 12

The days stretched into weeks, and with no word from Steve, a dull ache had started to settle in my chest. I'd tried to keep myself busy with the bakery, and I'd even taken on a few new custom orders, but there was always this nagging feeling of absence.

In the mornings, as I walked up to the bakery a big part of me was hopeful that I'd see Steve there leaning on my door waiting for me with coffee and day after day week after week I'd feel the same disappointment of not seeing him there. I'd push open the bakery doors, inhaling the familiar smell of flour and sugar mixing with the scent of fresh coffee. It was the one thing that grounded me, my small world of ovens, recipes, and loyal customers who knew nothing about the man who'd crept his way into my life. But even here, I couldn't shake the way his absence hovered like a shadow, following me from the kitchen to the register.

"Dani," called Rosa, one of the bakers who'd been with me from the start. "You okay? You've been staring at that croissant dough for five minutes."

I blinked, looking down at the dough I'd been absently kneading. "Oh, yeah. Just thinking," I said, managing a smile. Rosa gave me a sympathetic look, and I could see the question she wanted to ask.

She'd heard me talk about Steve in passing, but it was always vague—the kind of talk that didn't reveal too much. Still, she knew enough to see that something was on my mind.

"Let me handle the croissants," she said gently. "Why don't you take a minute? You've been on your feet all morning."

I considered protesting, but exhaustion won out. "Alright, you're a lifesaver," I said, stepping aside.

With my hands free, I headed to the back office. I sat down at my desk, glancing at my phone for the tenth time that day. No messages. No calls. I tossed it aside, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Part of me felt foolish for waiting, especially when he'd given me no timeline. And yet, another part of me couldn't let it go. I didn't want to become someone who lived their life around a person who might never come back. But, like clockwork, I found myself glancing at the door every morning, half expecting him to walk in with that quiet smile of his.

Get it together, Dani, I thought, running my fingers through my hair. I grabbed a piece of paper and began scribbling down a new recipe, something with a fall theme. Maple pecan muffins, maybe with a bit of bourbon glaze? Anything to keep my mind from wandering back to the silence that seemed to stretch on forever.

A couple of hours later, the bakery was full of customers, and I threw myself into the flow of things. I exchanged quick smiles, handed out pastries, and listened to customers gush over their morning coffee as they strolled out the door. It was like muscle memory, the ease of handling orders and keeping things running smoothly. But deep down, the silence still lingered.

Just when I thought I'd gotten a handle on it, Sofia walked in, a wide smile spreading across her face as she held up a magazine. "It's out! Look at this!" she practically squealed, holding it out for me.

I looked down, seeing my own pastries on the cover of Local Eats Monthly, glistening under perfect lighting. My heart skipped a beat as I skimmed the feature, filled with descriptions of the bakery and praise for our recent seasonal creations.

"Oh my God, Sofia," I said, laughing with genuine surprise. "I can't believe this is real."

"You should be so proud! First the Gourmet Gazette now this? Do you realize how much business this is going to bring you?" Sofia beamed, giving me a squeeze.

"Look around," I said motioning to the sea of customers. "Thanks for doing our PR." Honestly after that Stark event I had to get Sofias help.

I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. This magazine feature was huge for the bakery, something I'd been working toward since I started. But still, a small part of me wanted to share this moment with someone who wasn't here.

"Thanks, Sof," I said, giving her a quick hug. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"Well, that's what friends are for," she replied, her voice softening as she looked at me knowingly. "And don't think I haven't noticed that you're not yourself lately."

I sighed, glancing around the bakery. "It's just... everything with Steve. He said he'd be back, but it's been weeks now."

Sofia reached out, giving my hand a squeeze. "Hey, maybe he's got a good reason. It's not like he can just send a postcard from... wherever it is he's fighting supervillains."

I chuckled, appreciating her attempt to lighten my mood. "Yeah, maybe."

But as I watched her leave, the uncertainty crept back in. There was no way of knowing if he'd come back—or if he even wanted to.

---

The rest of the day felt long and stretched out, "Dani, you've been at this all day," Rosa's voice cut through my concentration. She nudged my shoulder, pulling me out of my baking zone. "It's time for a break, mija. You've done enough."

I dusted my flour-covered hands off on my apron. "I'm fine, really," I replied, glancing at the clock and realizing how much time had slipped by.

"Go home," Rosa insisted, giving me a warm but firm look. "You need rest, and the bakery can run without you for a night."

After some gentle protests, I finally gave in. "Alright, fine," I said, rolling my eyes but grateful for the push. I took off my apron, said goodbye, and headed home. I had a shower and dressed in my fluffy shorts and a loose fitting crop top. I was just about to sit down with a book when there was a knock at my door. It must be a mistake nobody even buzzed me. I opened door and my jaw dropped. I found Bucky Barnes, casually leaning against the frame.

"James?" I said, startled.

He grinned. "Caught you off guard, didn't I?"

"Uh, yeah," I replied, blinking in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Just checking in. Thought I'd make sure you were surviving the wait," he said, stepping inside as I motioned for him to come in. He got a haircut, I could tease him about this later.

He looked around, his gaze taking in the cozy surroundings. "Nice place," he commented, looking genuinely impressed. "Way homier than the tower."

I chuckled, gesturing to the couch. "Want some coffee? I just made a fresh pot."

"Sure," he said, easing onto the couch as if he'd been here a hundred times before.

I handed him a mug and settled in across from him. "So... any news?" I asked carefully, hoping he'd have some kind of update.

Bucky shook his head. "Not much. Missions like this can be tricky."

He took the cup from me, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "Dani, you make one hell of a cup. I figured Steve was exaggerating, but turns out he wasn't."

I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Oh, so he talks about my coffee?"

"More than you'd believe," he said, and his gaze slid over me, pausing a little too long on my exposed mid section before he gave me a lazy grin. "Actually, I was surprised he'd left a catch like you sitting here all alone."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the slight blush creeping up. "Oh, please, you and I both know Steve has way too much patience for his own good."

"Patience? I think he's just a little slow." Bucky leaned in, his smirk widening. "You know, Steve might be a saint, but I'm not. And if he keeps dragging his feet, maybe I'll step in."

I felt a laugh bubble up, enjoying the banter. "Awfully bold of you, Barnes. Just don't expect me to fall for the 'strong, silent type' routine. I like a challenge."

"Challenge?" he scoffed, looking delighted. "Dani, sweetheart, I invented the challenge."

"Oh yeah?" I shot back. "So what's your go-to line, then?"

Bucky didn't miss a beat. "Well, usually I don't need one. The arm does most of the talking." He shrugged out of his jacket just then, letting the metal gleam in my lights.

I pretended to study it with exaggerated interest, then shrugged. "Hmm. Not bad, I guess. It does add a certain...shine."

Bucky laughed, looking genuinely amused. "I'll give you this—you're not an easy one to crack. And trust me, I've met my fair share."

"Are you flirting with me, James?" I asked, tilting my head and doing my best to look innocent.

He grinned. "Only if it's working."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I'll admit, you've got the charm thing down. But if you're here to try and win me over, you've got a hell of a competition."

"Oh, I know. And I'm not exactly subtle." He leaned in, lowering his voice, "One things for sure : Steve's right. You're a spitfire."

He paused, his gaze serious for a moment. "Honestly, Dani. I can see what Steve sees in you."

There was a softness in his tone, a kind of respect that made me feel a little more grounded. "Thanks, Bucky," I said, genuinely touched. "But for the record, I'm not looking for a replacement."

Bucky raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, fair's fair. But if you change your mind..." He gave me a mischievous wink.

I laughed, shaking my head. "Oh, I'll keep it in mind. But I don't fall for just anyone, it's gonna take more than a shiny arm and a smooth talker."

He chuckled, tipping his mug to me. "Noted. Just remember—if that punk keeps you waiting too long, you've got options."

His gaze was direct, challenging, and for a moment, the air between us shifted. Bucky was good-looking, and he knew how to lay on the charm, but I wasn't about to let him see me flustered.

"So, is this how you spend your time?" I teased. "Hitting on your friend's girl?"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Just trying to make sure Steve isn't taking you for granted."

"Good to know he's got his wingman doing quality control," I replied, sipping my own coffee and giving him a pointed look.

Despite all the flirting, there was a genuine warmth to him, like he was really looking out for me.

I watched as Bucky sprawled across my couch, looking way too comfortable for someone who'd just invited himself over. His arm was stretched along the back of the sofa, and he was watching me with that signature smirk of his.

"You know," I said, crossing my arms and giving him my best unimpressed look, "Since you decided to invite yourself it's not going to be just to lounge around."

Bucky grinned, completely unfazed. "Oh, so now you're putting me to work?"

"Absolutely." I motioned toward the kitchen, trying not to smile. "Go wash your hands, Barnes. You're helping me make dinner."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, standing up and giving me a mock salute as he sauntered over to the sink. I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped.

I started pulling ingredients from the fridge, and soon enough, I heard the water turn off and Bucky's footsteps as he joined me in the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves with a grin.

"Alright, Chef," he said, leaning in just a little too close, his voice dropping to a whisper, "what's the plan?"

I handed him a cutting board and some vegetables. "Think you can handle chopping these?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Chopping? You're putting my talents to waste here."

I nudged him playfully. "Let's start small, big shot. Show me those skills you keep bragging about."

To my surprise, he started chopping, and he was actually pretty good. We worked side by side, our elbows bumping now and then as we moved around each other. Each time, he'd throw me this look that made my heart beat just a little faster, but I did my best to ignore it.

"So, what does a guy like you usually eat?" I asked, stirring a pot on the stove.

"Me?" He smirked, glancing over. "Oh, you know. A perfectly balanced meal of takeout and... whatever's in the Avengers Tower fridge."

I snorted, shaking my head. "Why am I not surprised?"

"But hey," he continued with a grin, "I'm open to learning from the best. Got any tips, Chef?"

I gave him a mock-serious look. "Rule number one: taste everything as you go. Here." I held out a spoon with a bit of sauce, bringing it close to his lips.

Bucky leaned in, tasting it with an exaggerated "mmm" and a wink. "Alright, I'll admit—you know what you're doing. Got any other rules?"

"Yeah, rule number two: try not to burn anything."

"Please, I don't burn," he said confidently, tossing me a flirty look. "Just adding a little... heat."

"Oh, is that right?" I laughed, shaking my head at his ridiculousness.

We continued cooking, the banter flowing easily between us. At one point, he leaned in a little too close, his arm brushing against mine as he reached for the salt, and the touch sent a small thrill through me that I tried my best to ignore.

"Admit it," he said quietly, his voice just a bit lower, that glint of mischief in his eyes. "You're enjoying my company."

I looked up at him, our faces just inches apart. "Maybe I am," I replied, just as quietly. "But don't let it go to your head."

His eyes sparkled with amusement, but he took a half-step back, grabbing the pepper instead, leaving the moment lingering between us. We fell back into the rhythm of cooking, laughter filling the kitchen along with the warm, savory smells from the stove. It felt... nice, easy, like we'd done this a hundred times before.

After we finished cooking, Bucky and I set the plates on my small dining table. The kitchen smelled amazing, filled with the warmth of spices and roasted veggies. It felt cozy, almost like we'd done this a dozen times before. He settled into the seat across from me, taking in the spread with a nod of approval.

"This actually looks... pretty impressive," he admitted, a bit of a surprised smile playing at his lips.

I smirked, pouring us each a glass of water. "Was there any doubt?"

He chuckled, taking his first bite and savoring it for a moment. "Alright, I'll admit—you know what you're doing."

We began to eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before I broke it, asking, "So, James Barnes... what's something most people don't know about you?"

He glanced up, clearly surprised by the question, but after a second, he gave a half-smile. "Oh, so we're getting serious now?"

I shrugged, swirling my fork through my pasta. "Just curious. You don't give off the open-book vibe."

He laughed softly. "Fair. I guess... most people don't know I actually loved to draw when I was younger. Art class was one of my favorite parts of school."

That caught me off guard. "Wait, really? I wouldn't have pegged you as an artist."

"Yeah," he said, a little nostalgic. "I was pretty good, too. Used to draw sketches of people in cafes, parks... New York was a good place for that kind of thing back in the day."

I could see the wistfulness in his eyes, the way his mind drifted back to a different time. "You still draw?"

He looked down, shaking his head. "Not as much. Sometimes it feels like... that was a different guy. You know?"

I nodded, understanding more than I expected. "Yeah, I get it. Sometimes parts of us feel like they belong to a different version of ourselves, someone we left behind."

He looked at me with a curiosity that seemed almost unexpected. "What about you? Anything you used to do that's kind of... faded?"

I hesitated, twirling my fork. "I used to sing for fun at least. Nothing professional, just... around the house. My mom loved it." I chuckled, a little embarrassed. "It was our thing, I guess. But life happened, and it felt silly to keep up in the midst of all the growing up I had to do in a short amount of time."

Bucky's eyes softened, and he leaned forward slightly. "I don't think that's silly at all. There's something about holding onto those pieces of ourselves that keeps us... grounded. Maybe even reminds us of who we are."

I glanced down at my plate, feeling strangely seen. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's easy to let things slip away without even noticing."

He gave a thoughtful nod, as though considering his own answer. "Exactly. Sometimes it feels like those little things are all we have to remind us of... I don't know, the parts of us that are still ours."

I smiled at him, feeling a warm connection I hadn't expected. "You're pretty insightful, you know that?"

He shrugged, the faintest blush rising to his cheeks. "Guess it comes with being around for so long. You pick up a thing or two."

We shared a smile, and for a moment, there was a quietness between us that felt more like understanding than silence.

"So," he said, breaking the tension with a playful grin, "next time we cook, you're singing, and I'm drawing."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Deal. But only if you promise not to laugh."

"Oh, I'd never laugh," he replied, voice full of mock innocence. "But I can't promise I won't draw you while you're singing."

I rolled my eyes, laughing despite myself. "Fine, but don't make me look like a cartoon character."

His smile softened, and he looked at me with a warmth that reached his eyes. "I couldn't make you look like a cartoon even if I tried."

I felt my face heat up, surprised at how much his words affected me. We continued eating, the conversation weaving between deep memories and light-hearted banter, every exchange feeling like one step closer to understanding each other.

"So I gotta ask," I started getting his attention

"Hmmm?" He softly asks

"What's up with the haircut?" I teased, a sly smile slipping onto my face. "Going for the mysterious, 'I woke up looking this good' vibe?"

He raised an eyebrow, instantly smirking back. "You saying it doesn't work?"

"Oh, it works," I admitted, letting my eyes linger longer. "I mean, it's giving a little 'bad boy with a soft side,' you know?" I leaned in closer, lowering my voice. "I'm sure that's the plan, though, right? Just part of the Bucky charm."

He chuckled, leaning in to match my level. "And here I thought I was flying under the radar," he murmured. "Guess I'll have to work harder on my subtlety."

I bit back a grin, shrugging. "Nah, wouldn't want you to hide all that from the world. It's good to be memorable."

"Memorable, huh?" His smile turned a little softer, his gaze holding mine. "Well, if it's working on you, I must be doing something right."

My smile grew as I tilted my head, holding back a laugh. "Oh, you're doing a lot right. Don't let it get to your head, though," I teased.

"Noted," he replied, still grinning. "Guess I'll just have to keep my cool."

"Oh, keep your cool?" I asked, arching an eyebrow. "James, if this is you being cool, I'm curious to see what it's like when you're actually trying."

He leaned back, giving me a look that was equal parts challenge and amusement. "Careful," he said, his voice dropping just a bit, "keep talking like that, and I might start trying."

I let out a laugh, shaking my head as I looked away. "Guess I'll have to brace myself."

He chuckled, his teasing glint softening a bit. "Alright, alright," he said, lifting his hands in surrender. "I'll take it easy on you. Don't want to scare you off, especially when I'm winning you over one compliment at a time."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling. "In your dreams, Barnes."

He smiled back, genuine this time. "Fair enough. Steve's a good man."

The mention of Steve brought a warm feeling with it, grounding me. "Yeah," I nodded, a small smile lingering. "He really is."

Bucky held my gaze, a flicker of something respectful and knowing in his eyes. "Then he's a lucky man, Dani. That's all I'll say."

With that, we let the banter rest, our unspoken understanding filling the space. It was a reminder of the lines we wouldn't cross and of the loyalty that connected us all. We could joke and tease, but there was a respect there, a boundary we both honored—one we both knew was worth holding onto.

As the night wrapped up, Bucky stood by the door, glancing back at me with a relaxed smile. "Thanks for the dinner, Dani. I needed a night like this."

I crossed my arms, smirking. "Anytime you want invite yourself in."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Noted." Then he took a step closer, his arms opening in an unspoken invitation. "Come here."

I hesitated for a second before moving forward, letting him pull me into a hug. His embrace was warm and solid, surprisingly comforting.

"Take care of yourself, alright?" he murmured, his voice low against my hair. "And don't let that bakery run you ragged."

I smiled, pulling back just enough to look at him. "Same goes for you. And...watch Steve's back for me."

His eyes softened. "Always."

With one last look, Bucky gave me a small, reassuring smile before stepping out the door. As I closed it behind him, I felt a renewed warmth and reassurance that lingered, reminding me of the connections that made waiting for Steve just a little easier.

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