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[wonton-lady-writes]

Avalanche, Part 1

Summary: Bucky is a fool in love, and so is she. She sings her sorrows to cafe patrons, and he avoids his feelings like the plague. Being afraid of his past is keeping Bucky from enjoying the good things the present and future are providing for him. How long will these good things wait for Bucky?  

Word count: 3122

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Mutant!Stark!Reader, platonic Steve Rodgers x Reader, platonic Sam Wilson x Reader

Rating: Teen?

Tags: Fluff, angst if you squint, established relationships/world, Stark!Reader AU, Mutant!Reader AU

A/N: I do not own these characters. I do not own the image below (titled Byron by Adele M. Reed on Flickr). Sorry for any mistakes, this work is not beta read. I hope y'all enjoy my first work in a long, long time! Hoping to make this into a three part series. Also, a complementary playlist for you lovely beings :)

Soft music flowed from the old speakers of the cafe, dancing along the glass dessert display case, caressing the frostbitten ears of the late night patrons. Coats were stacked in layers on the coat hooks near the entrance, a wet floor sign and mop perched beside a chalkboard welcome sign decorated in hand drawn white music notes and orange leaves. Paintings from local artists adorned the brick walls, outlined in faux ivy and illuminated by the faint glow of Edison lights strung across the exposed wooden beams of the cafe’s high ceiling. Behind the counter, a barista was humming along to the music as he wiped down the espresso machine, the pastry chef carefully lined the empty display case with warm, flaky croissants and gooey chocolate muffins she pulled fresh from the oven. People were beginning to gather around the stage, sipping on hot drinks and sugary pastries as they made themselves comfortable in the cafe’s mismatched chairs and sofas.

A young woman was sitting on a stool on stage, tuning a guitar. Her unruly curls were tucked behind her ears as she intently focused on the sound of the strings beneath her fingers. She tapped the toe of her black boot against the worn dark wood of the cafe stage as she thought for a moment. Something was off. She felt nervous, though she couldn’t quite place where this feeling of unease was coming from. It wasn’t being on stage that made her feel this way. Everyone in the audience knew her. They - like her - were evening regulars. No, this feeling of dread seemed to come from somewhere else - somewhere outside of the safe bubble of this cafe.

In the past few months, this place had become a second home for her. When she wasn’t performing, her evenings were spent in the back corner, away from the group, sipping on her mocha while she scribbled away in a journal. Tonight though, she felt like singing. She played with the hem of her bell sleeves, taking note of how the thin, red polyester looked against her pale hands. The music playing from the cafe speakers faded out, the sound of static signaling her microphone was now live. She cleared her throat then smiled, shrugging away the universe’s warning.

“We love you Y/N Stark!” the cafe’s pastry chef screamed from behind the counter, a grin plastered on her face. The crowd laughed.

“Hey everyone, I’m back,” the crowd erupted in cheers. “Unfortunately, I will not be sharing any of my personal woes with you today. I know, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“I love you too, Ingrid,” Y/N laughed. “Especially your Tuesday night danishes. Now, I’m in a bit of a mood, you know? And the only one who really gets me when I’m feeling like this is the wonderful Brandon Flowers, so tonight I’ll be playing his masterpiece ‘Lonely Town’ and you all can join me in this wonderful mood that I’m in. If you know the chorus, feel free to join.”

Y/N began to strum the strings of her guitar, closing her eyes as she waited for her cue. She was two lines in when the bells of the front door rang, signaling the arrival of a new customer, but she didn’t bother to look up. In this moment, it was just her and the music. Eyes closed, fingers strumming chords she knew by heart. 

Three men entered the cafe and sat around an empty table in the back near the counter. Two were smiling and nudging each other, occasionally stealing glances at the quiet third. The smiling blond man whispered something to his laughing companion whose face lit up. He quickly got up and ordered from the counter. 

The third man didn’t notice their smiles and whispers, or even the steaming mug of black coffee that suddenly appeared before him. His blue eyes were focused on the girl singing on stage. Nothing else existed in the dimly lit cafe, only her and her voice. It was the same voice he once would fall asleep listening to under the stars, the same one he had been aching to hear again for months. 

“Hey, hey Buck,” his blond friend nudged him, breaking him from his thoughts. “Welcome back.”

“Steve...” he said, raking his gloved hand through his long, dark hair.

“Now, before you get mad,” the other interjected. “We have a very good reason for-”

“It was Sam’s plan,” Steve explained, trying to hold back a smile.

“No, Steve, our plan. Us.” Sam said. “However, my informant failed to provide one small detail.”

“The singing, that was not planned.” Steve shook his head.

“Did not think she would be singing.” Sam said.

Bucky frowned. Yes, he missed her. Yes, he had been dying to speak to her since the night they walked down to the pier together. Neither of them could sleep, and they always found comfort in each other's presence. But this was not the way he wanted this to happen. This isn’t how he wanted to see her again. He didn’t even bring flowers or practice what he would say to her.

“She’s going to kill us,” Bucky said.

“And you’re going to love every minute of it,” Sam wiggled his eyebrows at Bucky over his yellow mug.

Bucky glared at him, then turned his attention back to the stage. Back to Y/N. 

The crowd was joining her now as she sang a new song, one he recognized from a CD she made him. She was smiling and nodding her head now, her foot tapping along to the sound of her guitar. Her hair was longer, but she still looked the same to Bucky. Her dark blue eyes still sparkled, even under the dim lights of the stage, her laugh still infectious. 

Soon the cafe was applauding and Y/N was making her way off the stage to the counter with her guitar case in hand. Before Bucky could stop him, Sam was already out of his seat running up to her. 

“Steve…”

“Don’t worry, Buck,” Steve clapped Bucky on his shoulder. “Y/N is one of my best friends, I know her better than most. She probably won't hurt you. Probably.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said sarcastically.

Meanwhile, Sam was busy helping Y/N with her guitar case. To say she was surprised to see him would be an understatement.

“Sam, how did you know I was here?” She asked through a forced smile. This was not good. Not good at all.

“It’s a long story. We enjoyed hearing you play. Had no idea you could sing like that.”

Y/N froze. “We?”

Sam jerked his head in the direction of the back table. Steve waved and Y/N let out an internal scream. When she realized who was beside him, she swore her heart stopped beating. When Bucky made eye contact with her, she could feel her heart leap right out of her body and bury itself into the earth.

“Samuel Thomas Wilson,” Y/N whispered through clenched teeth. “You’re dead.” 

“You guys need to just talk,” Sam begged. “Things have been weird long enough -”

“But I was singing!” she squeaked, “Singing things that may or may not be about - something. And someone here might recognize him and that’s just going to be -”

“Wait, wait,” Sam interrupted. “How would anyone recognize him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Nope.”

“Yes. How often are you here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Stark, do you do more than sing?”

“Let’s get coffee, I want coffee!” Y/N began to quickly walk to the counter, waving down the barista. “The mochas here are so good! It has dark chocolate and caramel, and I like to ask for a sprinkle of crushed cookies on top.”

Y/N ordered her drink then purposefully took a seat next to Steve, across from Bucky. 

“Hello boys,” she said, feigning confidence. 

“So,” Steve said, nudging her with his elbow, “does this mean you’ll be serenading us now when we ask?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.

“And, is it just acoustic guitar, or do you play anything else?” Sam asked.

“Keyboard, maybe?”

“What about a tambourine?”

“No, Sam.” Y/N tilted her head and smiled. “But I can tell you just where to shove that tambourine -”

“Here’s your drink, Y/N.” Isaac, one of the cafe’s best baristas and a true angel, handed her the warm beverage. “Ingrid and I were hoping you’d be sharing another story or poem today.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, raising his hand. “Did you say poem?”

“You write poems?” Sam grinned.

Y/N could feel her cheeks redden. She avoided their eyes, especially Bucky’s. 

“Thank you for the drink, Isaac. I’ll talk with you and Ingrid in a bit.”

“But we wanna know about the poetry,” Steve whispered as Isaac walked away.

“No,” Y/N said firmly. 

She couldn’t help but steal a glance at Bucky. He was staring intently at her. Y/N hid her face behind her purple mug, pretending she hadn’t looked at him. Was it believable that the drink was making her face flushed? She really hoped so. 

She wasn’t trying to ignore Bucky. On the contrary, she wanted more than anything to talk to him. She missed the nights in Wakanda where they would sit together and share stories by the fire. She missed pizza with him. She missed teasing him and getting him to cook for her. She missed their friendship before the Blip and the few good weeks after he came back. 

And then he just disappeared. She only knew he was okay because Steve and Sam let her know he was still alive. Unfortunately, even they had no answers to why he suddenly began avoiding her. 

“Seriously though,” Sam said,  “you sounded really good up there. Didn’t she, Buck?” 

Bucky shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to say or if he should even say anything.

Y/N cleared her throat as she pretended to check her phone. “Well, it was lovely to see you all, but I have to get going.”

“Your drink just got here though.” Steve motioned to her still steaming mug.

She slid it in front of him, “You can have it, I need to be back in Salem early tomorrow.”

Before anyone could speak up, Y/N pulled on her coat and waved goodbye as she lugged her guitar case towards the entrance. Bucky frowned as he watched her disappear into the night.

“I hate that teleporting thing,” Sam huffed. “It always feels like cheating somehow.”

Their table remained silent. A man and woman were on stage now, singing a duet that had the whole crowd bobbing their heads and swaying to their music. Isaac and Ingrid were whispering and laughing together behind the counter. A group of four college aged boys entered the cafe, peeling their snowy gloves off their pink hands as they anxiously examined the menu, eager for something to warm them. 

“What was the point of this?” Bucky mumbled, his eyes closed.

“We didn’t think she would just leave,” Steve said.

“Like I did?” Bucky opened his eyes and glared at his two friends.

Sam and Steve looked down at their empty mugs. They both knew what he was hinting at. Y/N had good reason to not want to speak to Bucky. He had kissed her. Then he disappeared without a word. 

Bucky stood up and pushed in his chair. “I’m going home.”

They didn’t try to stop him when he left. They looked at each other, each bearing an expression of concern, one that said they hoped they didn’t just make a mistake.

--

--

The french doors of her room open, the green and ivory curtains dancing in the autumn breeze. The faint sound of traffic four stories below had helped keep her mind from spiralling in the lonely quiet of her small Manhattan apartment. Y/N dug herself deeper into the crisp white comforter on her bed, hoping sleep could help tame the thoughts swarming her mind like a cloud of locusts. 

Five months later, and the knot in her chest ached just as much as it did that night. The embarrassment still felt brand new. She thought about the pier. She could see him standing next to her, closer than he had been when they first stopped to look out at the waves in the moonlight. He smelled like coffee and leather. She remembered the way his blue eyes looked into hers and made her breath catch in her throat. The cool leather of his gloves against her flushed cheeks. Then the warmth when their lips finally…

Y/N buried her face into her pillow and screamed. No, she thought, No more thinking about that! She quickly threw her blankets off of her and stomped to her kitchen for a glass of water. 

Her bare feet padded along the cool oak floors as she paced the length of her kitchen. From behind a curtain of faux ivy, an oval clock above her dining table read 3am. She counted four hours - no, four and a half hours since she saw him. Four and a half hours since they saw each other for the first time in months and said nothing. 

As she wrapped herself in a warm fleece blanket and sunk into the maroon cushions of her couch, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what he had been thinking that night. Had he planned on seeing her? Did he want to talk to her, or were Steve and Sam meddling? Did he think about her as much as she thought about him?

With a sigh, Y/N shut her eyes and rested her head on a couch pillow. She was too exhausted; physically and emotionally. It was too late at night to worry and relive all that hurt. She promised herself that when the sun rose in the morning, she’ll head over to Steve’s and pry the truth from him. In the meantime, she let her mind drift into better memories as she slowly drifted to sleep.

--

--

Bucky knew he should be paying attention, or at least try to pretend to be paying attention, but his mind was too occupied at the moment. The night at the cafe kept playing over and over in his mind, her face more bright and more clear the longer he thought about her. He was busy imagining all the things he should have said to her when Dr. Raynor cleared her throat.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she said as she tapped her pen on her clipboard. “What’s keeping your mind so occupied today?”

He shifted his weight. The blue sofa in Dr. Raynor’s office was too soft, it made Bucky like he was sinking into quicksand. He kept his eyes focused on something outside the office’s window.

“Nothing,” he said.

Dr. Raynor sighed, “Barnes, do I need to remind you again why you’re here -”

“No,” Bucky sighed. “You don’t.”

“Then, talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You’re frowning more than usual,” Dr. Raynor smirked.

“It’s the couch.” Bucky said flatly, crossing his arms.

“Maybe the color of the couch?” A knowing smile danced across Dr. Raynor’s face.

Bucky pursed his lips, “No.”

“Did you see her?”

“No.”

“That’s a yes.”

With another sigh, Bucky leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We didn’t talk,” he said finally.

“And why not?” Dr. Raynor’s expression was full of genuine concern. It was a miracle he had let Y/N’s existence slip during one of their first sessions, it was obvious this girl was important to him. 

“Wrong place, wrong time.” 

“Then where would the right place be or the right time?”

Bucky buried his face into his hands and groaned, “I don’t know, but that wasn’t it.”

“What would you say to her if the time and the place were right?”

“There’s nothing I can say.”

“Nothing at all?”

Without a word, Bucky stood up and leaned against the office window. There really was nothing he could say to her. How would he even begin to explain?

“You have feelings for this girl,” Dr. Raynor continued. “That much is obvious. Based on what I have gathered from what little you have told me, and what I already know about her due to her family’s public presence, she’s a good one. There are no words that do Y/N Stark justice, she’s a selfless creature with endless love and compassion for all. It would be hard for anyone to get to know her and not fall in love.”

Bucky shifted his weight, “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s written on your face when you hear her name. Is this not the same girl who waited those five years for you during the Blip?”

“She didn’t wait for me. She and Steve were trying to get everyone back-”

“She never moved on.” Dr. Raynor and Bucky locked eyes.

“There was nothing to move on from.”

Dr. Raynor laughed, “I doubt that, or else you wouldn’t be so smitten.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and looked back out the window.

“She didn’t move on. I doubt she has now, or else you’d have more than a frown on your face. She waited for you, Barnes. She searched for you. How long are you going to keep her waiting?”

He turned back to Dr. Raynor, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“You can’t what, Sergeant?”

Bucky hesitated. It was one thing to think these things, another to say them aloud. “She’s so good, and bright, and lovable. She’s done nothing but good and then I’m… I have these things that will always haunt me. I have a past. I’ll never be…”

“I have a feeling she doesn’t see any of that,” Dr. Raynor said with a gentle smile.

“I killed her grandparents.”

“That wasn’t you.”

“Yes, it was.”

“It was a twisted, memoryless shadow of you.” She took off her glasses and massaged her temples. “How long are you going to let these chances slip by? Stark is a good thing, she is good for you. And you keep running away. You can’t run forever. Good things won’t wait around forever.”

Bucky didn’t respond. He didn’t want to let go of Y/N. He didn’t like the distance he put between them. The problem was that he didn’t know what the right thing to do was anymore. Being with her felt selfish, undeserved, but being without her was miserable.

“Barnes, just go to her. Tell her everything. That girl doesn’t deserve to wait any longer,” Dr. Raynor sighed. She tossed her clipboard and pen down onto the table in front of her. “And get a haircut, that might help you.”