#baker!au

But the problem was, that it was two weeks since he’d seen you last and you had never come back. He knew little about you. Bucky knew your name and that you had a roommate that casually babysat her nephew and that was about it. The kid hadn’t been yours, but you could have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. He had no idea where you lived, no idea what you did for a living or what you did in your free time but, god, did he want to. He wanted to know everything about you and it was slowly killing him that he didn’t. And that he probably never would get a chance to.

“You know, the door can take care of itself. You don’t need to look at it all the time.”

Bucky huffed lightly when Steve leaned against the counter next to him. It was a slow day, only two people, a couple, were sitting in a corner, and Bucky had taken to leaning against the shop counter. “I bought the door. This door is my responsibility. If anything happens to it, I’m neer gonna forgive myself,” Bucky jokingly replied, a lopsided grin on his lips as he tilted his head to the side to look at the blond. Steve shook his head at his friend's response and sighed. Bucky’s grin slowly faded.

Steve was set on helping Bucky get his mind off of you, and rightfully so. He noticed how distracted his friend was ever since he’d seen you again, how lost in his thoughts Bucky was while working and when focus was required. There was also a shift in Bucky’s mood that put a frown on Steve’s face. Bucky was quieter, cracked fewer jokes, laughed less at embarrassing stuff Steve did and when he had free time, he was staring at the door, wistfully almost.

Not once had the brunet acted like this because of anyone. And it would be a totally different story if he’d seen you more than once and would actually know how to reach you. But alas, here he was, watching the door in case you came back.

Steve shifted from one leg onto the other, arms propped up on the counter behind him. He eyed Bucky for a moment, his lips drawn between his teeth. “We just got another order in. Since you got nothing to do right now... could you..?”

Bucky furrowed his brows. “You don’t have anything to do either.”

“Well,” Steve said, “this is a really, a really big order and it’s complicated and you’re the baker here.” Bucky opens his mouth to interject, brows furrowed, but Steve quickly continues. “I mean, yeah, I’m a baker too, but you just have the, the,” he snapped his fingers in search of the right word. “expertise! Expertise. There you go, you have the expertise that I don’t have, so, you’re gonna have to do this.” The blond shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, bud.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re good, I’m bad, go bake,” Steve summarised, gesturing towards the door that led to the kitchen with a nod of his head. The look of confusion on Bucky’s face deepened. “Are you alright?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, ‘course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just admitted to not being as good as me. Are you sure you didn’t fall on your head?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, okay? Now, go. Those cakes aren’t gonna bake themselves,” Steve ordered, nudging his friend and shooing the hopelessly confused man into the kitchen.

Bucky disappeared, shaking his head at his friend's behavior. Steve watched him, pushing out a small sigh and slumping back against the counter.

He had nothing against his friend having a crush, on the contrary, Steve’d welcome any girl with open arms that could make Bucky feel like this. But he didn’t want Bucky staring at the front door of the bakery in his spare time and retreating into himself while waiting for someone who wasn’t going to show up.

The sound of the door being opened and the faint jingling of the bells above the door pulled Steve out of his thoughts and made his posture straighten, a routine reaction to customers entering the shop.

You pushed open the door to the Red Star and let your eyes flit through the room. Golden specks of afternoon sunlight danced over the tables and the wooden floor, casting a warm glow through the room. The only other people in the shop aside from you was a young couple sitting in the corner and the man behind the counter. Bucky was nowhere in sight. Involuntarily, you released a small breath. Part of you was glad that you had a moment to collect yourself before seeing him again, but another part was afraid that you wouldn’t get to see him at all.

You tucked your hands into the pockets of your cardigan and stepped up to the counter. Various kinds of deserts were displayed behind glass. Intricate decorations adorned the different pieces and sorts of cakes, cupcakes and more, betraying the level of skill the person that had made them obviously possessed. Everything looked so deliciously mouth-watering that you wished you actually had more time, and money, to try and taste everything in your sight. Breathing in the smell of warm chocolate, strawberries, raspberries, cherries, and so many more delectable things, you tore your eyes away from the display and met the eyes of the man behind the counter.

He wore a soft smile on his lips, a contagious one, that made the corners of your lips lift as well.

“Hello there.”

“Hi,” you responded, hand barely raised in a small wave.

“What can I get you?” he asked. He placed his hands on the counter, leaning against it.

“Um,” you muttered, eyes sneakily wandering through the room in search for Bucky. “I...”

He was still nowhere in sight. What if he wasn’t even here today? And you’d driven to the opposite end of the city during your lunch break only to have coffee and not to see the man you couldn’t stop thinking about for the past few weeks? Of course, he could be somewhere in the back, working, but you lacked the time to stay longer than ten minutes.

This was a bad idea, you thought. A stupid idea.

The blond cleared his throat to regain your attention. Your eyes darted back to him. “Oh, sorry,” you breathed, “I’ll uh, take one black coffee, no sugar, to-go. Please.”

He waved away your apology and turned away to make your order.

It gave you another chance to look for any sign of the brown-haired man you craved to see again. Disappointment made your stomach clench and your heart slowly sank lower and lower when you came up with nothing again.

You conjured a small, albeit a little forced smile on your face again when the man put down your coffee in front of you. “Anything else I can get you?”

You shook your head, letting out a little breath. “No, no thanks. Just the coffee.”

He nodded and told you the price. While you rummaged around in your bag for your purse, he took the chance to speak up again. “I wouldn’t have taken you for someone who drinks black coffee.”

You looked up from your bag, but kept on searching, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? And what did you think someone like me would drink...?”

“Steve,” he quickly said, sensing your moment of hesitance due to not knowing his name. “Well, I would’ve thought you’d prefer something sweeter,” he trailed off, looking at you, waiting for you to say your name.

A chuckle curled your lips and you finally pulled out your wallet. “Y/N.”

Steve’s smile froze. Your movements faltered at his reaction to your name.

“Y/N? You’re Y/N?”

“Uh, yeah?” Confusion caused you to furrow your brows.

Steve’s heart was in his throat when you said your name.

You were here. You were here.

“Can you hold on a second? Just a moment,” Steve pleaded. When you nodded, he gave you two hasty thumbs up and rushed to the door of the kitchen.

“Buck,” he called out under his breath. “Buck!”

“What, Steve?” Bucky responded, voice a bit miffed. Judging by the sounds that could be heard down the short hallway, Bucky was currently mixing together the dough, an eggbeater scraping against stainless steel.

“You need to come out here. Now,” Steve urged.

“I’m kind of elbow-deep in dough here, punk. I think you can handle whatever it is yourself.”

Steve pushed out a sigh. “Buck, it’s-”

“Steve, seriously. You wanted me to focus, I’m focusing. Let me focus.”

“Come on,” Steve sighed in irritation.

“Hey,” you called out behind him, “I really need to take off.”

The noises of commotion inside the kitchen ceased. There was a moment of silence, during which Steve looked over at you, mouth open to plead for you to stay before Bucky spoke, “Steve? Is that-”

“One moment,” Steve said to you, a beseeching tone to his voice. He hoped he could keep you here just a few more moments until Bucky could come and see you. God knows Bucky would become far less bearable if he spent the past few weeks patiently waiting for you to visit the bakery again only to miss you because Steve wanted to distract him.

“My break’s almost over, I really need to go. I’ll... I’m gonna put the money on the counter, okay?” Steve looked at you helplessly as you fished out the right amount and showed it to him, before putting it on the counter. “I’m sorry, I really need to leave. Thanks,” you lifted the paper cup, “for the coffee.”

And then you turned around and disappeared out onto the street.

Momentarily closing his eyes, Steve sighed for the approximately millionth time that day. He heard hurried footsteps behind him, a sign of Bucky stumbling through the kitchen in a hurry and heading through the hallway. Steve made a move to step to the side but his friend was faster, bumping into him in his haste.

“Goddammit,” Bucky swore under his breath as Steve helped him maintain his balance without crashing to the ground. “Where is she?”

“She just left,” Steve muttered. “Said her break was over.”

Bucky brushed the strands of hair that’d escaped his bun while working on the cakes out of his face. “I missed her,” he stated. He gently shook his head and lowered his gaze, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. “Fuck.”

 Bread aside, you couldn’t help but be smitten. Whenever you went into the shop, he would give you a small trinket, dropping a smoothed stone or clean feather into your palm, or tying a simple ribbon around your wrist. But you knew better than to read into it too much. The shop was always swarmed by others like yourself, hoping to win his attention (and heavenly carbs). Seokjin also had the benefit of being a transplant to the village. In a town where everyone and their grandparents had been born and raised, he was a bit of a mystery. Nothing was known about his life before he opened the bakery. Compared to the flashy girls who spent their afternoons shopping and gossiping, you had nothing to offer. They had money and thus power and prestige, and you were the grimy barmaid, who served alcohol to drunk patrons at the town inn to supplement your mother’s income. He only ever saw you on the verge of exhaustion, or with beer spilled on you, and in your work uniform. Even despite knowing this, going to the bakery was still inexplicably one of the most anticipated moments of your week.

Which is why you were particularly irritated as the last customers of the evening were lingering, even after repeated warnings that the bar was closing. You picked listlessly at the twine around wrist, fraying the most recent gift from the baker. As a consequence of finally gaining the courage to approach and finally kick them out, one of them shoved you in response. The stone floor was unforgiving, and as you stumbled backward, you remembered the pointed corner of the table behind you. Time seemed to slow, until you realized that it actually was slowing.  You regained your footing and scurried to a safer distance. If now was the moment when your reflexes suddenly improve, you weren’t going to question it.  That is, until the baker happened to sweep into through the doors to the inn, which you were fairly certain you had already locked as a hint to the troubling customers and to prevent others from wandering in at such a late hour.

“Gentlemen, is there a problem?” He asked, more commanding and intimidating than his usual carefree demeanor. There was something immovable in his gaze, and the two that had pushed you seemed to realize it.

“We were just leaving,” the one mumbled, neither of them able to raise their eyes away from the floor.”  They made a move to leave, but the doors were still locked. You scurried over grabbing the keys from their place behind the bar, holding the door in silence as they left and pointedly avoided looking at the baker.

 A few minutes after they left, you worked up the courage to address him. “Soo…..you just happened to be walking by? And managed to open a locked door?” Maybe you weren’t pretty or powerful, but you weren’t stupid either.

The baker shrugged, seemingly non-plussed. He bent over, and picked up the string of twine he had given you. Somehow, it had fallen on the floor and you hadn’t even noticed.

“You lost the protection charm I gave you,” he said calmly, as though he were discussing the weather.

You stared at him, sure that you were being pranked. Though you hadn’t had much formal education, working in a bar meant that you had heard more than most your age. And your mother was somewhat superstitious, talking about a great aunt you had never met who worked as a healer back in the day. So you maybe weren’t surprised as you should have been.

“A piece of twine is a charm? How can that be? I imagined it would be more more flashy, and….expensive?”

The baker only responded by wryly glancing at you out of the corner of his eye; a crooked smile on his face. “What matters most is intention, not necessarily the materials used. Would you have preferred something flashier? I am but a simple baker, after all.”  

You smiled back, his charm contagious. “Well, it’s late and I suppose I should be grateful for any charm. I was closing up, but can I offer you a beer as a thank you.”

He shook his head, declining the offer. “I have enough trouble controlling my magic around you in general, let alone if I drink.”

You snorted at that. “Very smooth. Do you practice often?

Seokjin looks hurt, his hand resting over his heart.  “You’re the only one I give charms to, and the only one who I would risk burning my bread for. I wish I could convince you of that.”

But the moment passes quickly, and he winks and blows a kiss. “And on that note, fair lady, finding you well, I shall return to my lair, by which I mean bakery.  To check on the aforementioned bread.” And he is gone, a slight breeze the only sign that the door has opened.

 You roll your eyes and finish closing up. Though you are flattered, you think him nothing more than a flirt. Until you get home, and your exhaustion vanishes when you see your mother and sibling eating the most delectable looking cake you have ever seen.