#buckyau

New city. New apartment. New job. New life. 

Maya was ready, though. After living in her parents house up until her mid 20s, she was beyond prepared to leave and get the change of scenery she’s been craving since middle school. And with everything she did, everybody could see how sure of this she was.

She did everything without hesitation. She said yes to the Midtown School of Science and Technology without even taking the time offered to think about it. She signed the lease to the first studio apartment she found in Manhattan and she started packing the moment she knew the job and the apartment were hers. 

By the beginning of June, Maya had moved everything to New York and was pushing her parents out of her apartment. But of course they insisted on staying. 

“Just one night! I can make you dinner and help you organize the kitchen. We’ll be out of your hair by the morning.” Her mom practically begged, as she was, quite frankly very anxious about the entire move. 

And of course Dad agreed, “I could install your shelves and build your bed frame so you don’t sleep on a mattress on the floor tonight.” 

But Maya needed this. She couldn’t wait another night to fully embrace the reality of her new life. 

“No, it is fine! Really!” Maya was already grabbing her mom’s purse, and fishing her dad’s keys out of the pile of junk on the kitchen counter. “I want you guys on the road before it gets too dark. Just make sure you call me when you get back to Philly!” 

And through bewildered arguments at the daughter’s new found independence, Maya continued to walk them towards the door. She managed to yell over them, and then physically pushed them out of the apartment, “I love you! Drive safe! Dad, make sure to use your turn signals!” 

And like a coming of age film, she closed the door, fixed all the locks, and pressed her back against the door of her studio, her eyes scanning the first thing that was completely and utterly hers. She took a breath and felt excitement like no other started to fill her veins. 

Maya spent the rest of the night fixing the bathroom and then the kitchen. By 3 in the morning she was freshly showered and sitting on the floor of her living room with her back pressed against the couch. She smiled at the cluttered space, a piece of pizza in her hand, and Shrek 2 spinning in the DVD player. 

For the next two weeks Maya spent her days unpacking, arranging, decorating, reading, online shopping, rearranging, and singing at the top of her lungs.

Most afternoons she’d go downstairs to the Corner Cafe that was renting the apartment to her. Maya would sit and work on transfer paperwork, brainstorm potential classroom setups, and draft book lists for the Fall semester. Every now and then she’d make conversation with the barista, a high school student named MJ. Maya would ask about local bookstores, where to get the best Thai food, and eventually about Midtown. They both laughed when they realized they’d probably be spending the school year together. Needless to say, Maya and MJ got along really well. 

-- 

The following Friday afternoon, the Cafe was a bit more crowded. But all the same, Maya sat at her corner table by the pick up counter. She had always gravitated towards this spot, but now it was mostly to chat with MJ when things got slow and to cheer her on during the rushes. And MJ definitely needed a lot of support this shift. 

And then to Maya’s disbelief Natasha Romanoff walked in. 

It was an interesting scenario considering everyone knew who the Avengers were now, but what was far more interesting to Maya was the way no one paid any mind to her presence. She figured it was true what they said about New York: everyone just minded their own business, really. In any case, Maya didn’t feel any strong emotions towards being in the presence of known vigilantes, but she couldn’t help but feel her muscles tense when Natasha stood at the side of her table. 

A few moments passed and before Maya could properly comprehend what she was doing, she opened her mouth. “Would you like to sit?” 

Natasha was taken aback but nodded appreciatively, smiled and pulled the chair opposite to Maya and sat down. “Thanks, stranger.” Natasha’s knees were facing the counter though, an elbow each on the back of her chair and another on the table they were now sharing. 

A handful of moments passed again and Maya let out an exasperated groan after realizing that she, yet again, sent the wrong attachment to her new boss. 

Natasha’s fingers were now rapping rhythmically, against the wooden table top and then she spoke up. “Rough day?” 

Maya was a bit razzled, despite the fact that she was the one that opened up the possibility of a conversation just moments ago. “Uh, yes and no? It's just a new job. It's a bit overwhelming, you know?” 

It was only after the words came out of her mouth that Maya realized she shouldn’t have said her job was overwhelming to a person who fought crime for a living. She bit her tongue and braced herself for a laugh but it didn’t come. 

“You’ll get a hang of it.” It was at this moment that MJ called Natasha’s name out. She stood and pushed in her chair before grabbing the little white baggy off the counter. “Try one of the pastries. I promise it’ll make you feel a bit better; they’re the best in the whole city.” 

Maya gave her a small smile and a nod, “I’ll do that! Have a good night.” 

“You too, Stranger.” Natasha proceeded to pinch the little bag between her teeth, rummaging through her pockets and walking towards the exit 

-- 

In the following weeks, the interactions only became more frequent. It was probably every other day that the two would see each other at Corners. 

At first it was Hellos and Goodbyes but eventually Natasha would sit at the same table with Maya while waiting for her order to be ready, not that it ever took all that long. Before the end of the month, the two exchanged names and Maya was happy to find that Natasha actually preferred to be called Nat. 

Shortly after the proper introductions Nat started to enjoy her pastry at the table with Maya before leaving. 

Very quickly, Maya grew tired of the same courteous conversations and started talking about her new teaching job and Nat helped in large part with all of Maya’s online shopping decisions. Sometimes Maya was afraid of coming off as self centered but she was pretty wary of asking Nat about her life outside of the coffee shop. But, fortunately Nat was much more interested in classroom decor and keeping updated with Maya’s personal challenge of trying every possible drink MJ was willing to make. 

By July, Nat started bringing the other Avengers by for coffee runs. 

Maya immediately hit it off with Steve. After finding out that Maya was a literature teacher, Steve would talk about how reading was his favorite pastime pre-serum and that he’d love to visit the classroom one day. He even geeked about the latte art that MJ would do in the wide mouth mugs for Maya. She and Nat did not miss the opportunity to laugh about this when Steve excused himself to use the bathroom. 

It was peculiar though. Nat would tease that Maya and Steve were a literal match made in heaven. She’d go on about their overlapping interests and how smoothly they got along from the beginning. Maya had to think about it, though. On one hand, Maya thought, who wouldn’t want to be of interest to Captain America himself? 

But alas, Maya was the kind of girl who believed in the kind of love that you felt in your gut. And despite the blush on her cheeks when Nat talked about the two of them, Maya didn’t feel it in her gut. 

Weeks had passed and Maya had grown accustomed to greeting Nat, Steve, Pepper, Sam & Wanda whenever they made their way into Corners. None of them really stopped to chat, except for Nat and Steve, but Maya thought it was still nice to share small smiles and waves with the rest of them. 

In the back of her mind, Maya thought a lot about the rest of the Avengers. She was well aware of Tony Stark and heard things about Vision in passing, but Nat eventually clarified that Tony doesn’t get his own coffee and Vision still doesn’t entirely comprehend the act of food consumption. 

Truly, Maya was most curious about Steve’s best friend, Bucky. Steve did talk about him in passing from time to time but Maya knew to not straightforwardly ask about him. She knew the bare minimum about The Winter Soldier from the Daily Bugle and the tabloids. And knowing that Steve was his best friend, Maya bit her tongue despite all the questions flooding her mind whenever his name came up. 

It was the last week of July when Nat finally brought Bucky to Corners. 

-- 

In Maya’s mind, aside from meeting Nat, Bucky’s introduction was the most memorable. When she thought long and hard about it, it was mostly because of the fact that Bucky’s first impression was distinctly different from the rest of them-- less chirpy, you could say. 

When the two of them walked in, Nat basically made a beeline for Maya’s little table and greeted her right away. 

“Hey, Nat! Pastry or coffee today?” Maya hummed, barely looking up from her laptop. She was intensely focused on finishing a thought about her lesson plan before properly opening herself up to conversation. 

Nat sat to the right of Maya, her back facing the counter. Then, Nat gestured for Bucky to sit in her usual spot, across from Maya. 

“Pastries! I caught ol’ Bucky here snagging some of my extras in the middle of the night, so I decided to let him in on the secret.” 

Maya nodded before properly looking up, “Sounds like quite the racoon to me,” a small smile forming on her face. Then she lifted her eyes from her computer screen and there he was. Maya’s stomach turned in the most peculiar way.  

Bucky had on a hoodie and his hair was tied up in a low ponytail. The hood wasn’t up on his head but instead fluffed up enough to come up around the bottom of his ears and his hands were in his pocket, resting in his lap underneath the table. He seemed hesitant to hold any eye contact with her, which Maya didn’t take offense to, but he did manage to look at her for a moment. 

He gave the smallest acknowledging grin before saying, “Hello, I’m James.” 

Nat was preoccupied during this small moment, busy trying to wave down MJ who was in the middle of pulling a shot of espresso. “MJ! Just the pastries today, but make it a double order, please!” 

Nat turned back to Maya before she could properly introduce herself to Bucky.

“Yeah, he caught me with a jam filled one last week and has been snatching them ever since.” 

Maya smiled at this. “So what? The jig is up? Everyone in the tower knows that tough Natasha Romanoff is obsessed with flakey pastries?” She loved to tease Nat, but some of her joy was being overcome by the tension she was creating in her own mind about even looking at Bucky. 

Hearing him chuckle at her remark did help her muscles ease up though. 

“Ha. Ha,” Nat dully retorted. “The only reason I decided to share my secret with him is because he won’t tell a soul. It’d be much easier for me to gain my dignity back if I got caught, but he would lose most of, if not all of his tough guy credentials.” 

Maya giggled in response before looking straight into Bucky’s eyes and reassuring him, “Don’t worry. Even if you get caught I think Corner’s pastries are well worth losing your street cred.” 

Bucky chuckled and brought his flesh hand up to rub his index finger underneath his nose. “I think you’re right, doll. I’d risk it all for another raspberry one.” 

Maya felt a wave of mixed emotions following Bucky’s response. She felt her skin grow hot after processing the outdated nickname and only hoped that her complexion wasn’t visibly compromised. All the while though, she was glad to have been able to have any kind of conversation with him. 

Fortunately for Maya, she didn’t have to withstand that burning feeling for much longer because MJ called out Nat’s name and she was quick as a cat to grab the little white bags off the counter. 

Nat patted her hand on Maya’s shoulder, not even bothering to sit back down. She looked at Bucky and nodded her head towards the door. “Alright, Maya! We’re out. I’ll see you next time.” 

“Yeah, get back safe,” Maya responded, her hand reached up and patted Nat’s knuckles as Bucky pushed in his chair. “It was nice to meet you, James.” 

“You too, Maya,” and with that, Bucky gave a small wave and pulled his hood up as he and Nat made their way out the door and down the street. 

Maya watched until they were out of sight. 

—

Bucky’s speechless. And a bit disgusted. And also unbelievably hesitant. “I… we’re not… I mean…” He lets his fingers gingerly press into the body to further inspect the damage, feeling the splintered paint, jagged, naked fiberglass beneath. “We do body work here, but… this is a different kind of beast altogether.”

The man simply stares at him, sunglass-cloaked eyes burrowing into him in an unsettling sort of assessment as his right foot – no doubt wearing a shoe that cost more than Bucky’s entire wardrobe – begins tapping out an impatient rhythm. “My assistant said I should come here. She said you could handle it.” He drops his glasses down just a bit, just enough to be able to peer over the tops of them at the still-reticent mechanic. He steps closer and leans in, reads the nametag standing out in bright white atop his pale blue shirt. “Bucky,” he reads aloud, rolling the name on his tongue. Then, one suspicious brow raised, “Bucky?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, jaw tensing, steeling himself for what’s to come. This wouldn’t be the first time some tool in a three-piece suit came in here and made fun of his name, talked down to him like he was nothing more than, well, some dumb mechanic.

The man’s shoulders draw up, pulling him into a proud stance, and he cocks his head again, this time in the other direction. Bucky feels the rest of his body tense up now too, certain that he’s somehow being… inspected by this stranger. Tony circles him slowly, stopping once he drops into the shade of the building. He takes a step back and leans into the brick façade, pulls his glasses off and wipes them clean with a freaking pocket square. “You married, Bucky?” he asks, staring down at his glasses.

Bucky barely moves, simply quirking a brow in the man’s direction. “Why? You proposing?”

He lets out a bright, high-pitched scoff. “You wish. I could give you everything you ever wanted and then some.”

“Because you have money? Didn’t anyone ever tell you money can’t buy happiness?”

Another scoff, this one deep and throaty and chased out by a dramatic roll of his eyes. “It certainly helps.” Tony’s gaze ticks over to Bucky’s left hand. “No ring,” he muses vaguely.

“Yeah, well, I got it caught in fan belt a few years back. Almost took off my whole damn hand.”

“Ah, so you are married,” he intones, the inflection revealing… is it relief? Or is it disappointment?

“Divorced,” he corrects, still caught up in this strange and sudden stare down. “Mr. Stark,” he tries finally, only to get shut down by a flippant hand waving through the air.

“Look, I got a lot going on today. I really don’t want to have to drive across town to some other garage. So…” He tosses the keys up into the air, landing them perfectly in Bucky’s open palm with a delicate clink. “Just… do what you can.”

He stands – stunned – for a long moment, unsure quite what to do as he watches the man retreat to the street and climb into a waiting limo. The entire interaction takes less than five minutes. Yet it feels… strange, certainly, but also somehow… weighty. Like meeting Tony Stark on this random August day, rolling these unfamiliar keys in his hand as he stands beneath the blaring hot sun means something.

He startles back to reality only once a heavy hand falls to his shoulder, Steve’s voice settling in his ear. “Was that…”

He nods, pulls in a deep and grounding breath – “Are all rich people… nuts?” – and turns to face his friend and business partner.

Steve simply shrugs. “Couldn’t tell ya… you’re the richest guy I know, and that’s just because you haven’t put in your half of the rent yet.”

                                                           000

They see a lot of Tony Stark over the next few weeks. At first, he stops by just to check in on the Vette, making it a point to slink into the garage first thing every morning until the job is finally done. Bucky assumes – once the ridiculously generous check is in his hand and the car is backed out of the shop – that they’ve seen the last of the man. But not two days later, he shows up with a 1932 Ford Roadster – nothing wrong with it, just thought they might like to see. And the following week he brings in his first Ferrari – a gift for his twenty-first birthday – to have the tires rotated.

Each and every time he stops in, Bucky gets the distinct feeling that he’s being somehow scrutinized by the man, dissected… thoroughly sussed out. He’s not quite sure why… perhaps it’s the barrage of – seemingly conversational – personal questions. Or maybe it’s the way he wanders around the garage, touching everything, inspecting everything. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t ask anything of Steve the few times he pops out of the office to say hi, doesn’t interrogate him, nor really interact with him at all, his focus remaining wholly on Bucky.

It’s all very… odd. And unsettling. And if it weren’t for the fact that he lays down three times what the job is worth every time he brings in a car for some sort of unnecessary maintenance, Bucky would tell the man to take his creepy inquisition and hit the bricks.

But they’ve made almost five grand off of him in the last three weeks, and if he tells him to get lost, he’s pretty sure that Steve will castrate him with a zip saw. Truth be told, he’s on the verge of taking that chance, steeling himself to confront the eccentric billionaire when he sees the limo pull up yet again, cursing under his breath for a long moment before stepping outside to open up the garage doors.

Then he sees it, bright and gleaming in the burning hot sun as Stark whips around the corner and flies up into the bay, slamming on the parking brake before hopping out in a single deft move and leaning his hip onto the dark green door, smirk washing over his already rather smug face.

He gives him the basic backstory – upgraded rims and a new top, but otherwise an original… only 8,000 miles… one of just about thirty in existence.

But Bucky couldn’t care less about the words coming out of his mouth. And frankly, he doesn’t give a shit what kinds of questions or curious stares he’s about to receive from the grand inquisitor either. Maybe today they’ll get into his failed marriage, or that time he got arrested for assault. Or, hell, he’d even be willing to answer questions about his emo phase freshman year in high school. It’s all on the table. Stark can hang out and badger him all damn day if he wants, just as long as he lets him touch the spectacular specimen before him. He rounds the corner of the counter, certain that his jaw is dragging on the floor – and not giving a damn – and he steps forward towards the absolutely cherry 1965 Shelby Cobra 427. Un-be-livable. This… this is…

“This is a million-dollar car,” Bucky stutters out, his fingers lingering hesitantly over the hood, too nervous to even let them graze the body.

“More like 1.8 million,” he corrects with a shrug. “Could use a tune up.”

“A tune up? Are you crazy? Listen, there are people,” he starts, halting suddenly when a loud thump – followed quickly by a high-pitched squeal of laughter – sounds from the office in back. His head spins so fast, his neck cracks with the movement. But he quickly settles upon seeing Steve pop up into view on the other side of the plate glass window only to shoot him a swift thumbs up. Bucky shakes his head distractedly and turns back to Tony. “There are people way better equipped to handle this than me.”

Tony issues out a short psh, waving a dismissive hand through the air as he impatiently shifts from foot to foot. “You’ll be fine. I have faith in you.”

“I don’t know why,” he says with a snort, sneaking another lingering, sidelong glance at the car. He clears his throat harshly and turns back to Tony. “Mr. Stark, I don’t know that this shop even has enough insurance coverage to allow me to work on this car.”

“I could’ve sworn I told you to call me Tony,” he says, beginning his all-too-common practice of milling about the garage, absently touching things, picking up tools only to immediately drop them back into place. “Anyway,” he mutters, holding up a torque wrench and glaring at it as though the tool had personally insulted him. He throws it back onto the counter with a huff and faces Bucky once again. “I thought you were the owner,” he hisses out, words full of pure incredulity. “You and…” he waves a hand back at the blond man still lurking in the office. “Mr. Perfect back there.”

A look of utter bewilderment rolls across his face. “Well, yeah… but…”

“But nothing. Half the reason I own so many businesses,” he pauses for a beat, pursing his lips and looking down at the dark green beauty in front of him, “and things, is because I like doing what I like doing.” His eyes ping back up to meet Bucky’s, holding them tight in a sincere stare. “What do you like, Bucky?”

Silence. He says nothing, merely stares blankly at the man before him.

Tony rolls his eyes. “You like fixing million-dollar cars?”

Bucky shrugs. “Never really done it. That’s kind of my point.”

His deep brown eyes narrow suspiciously, head cocking to the side just the slightest bit. Then he drops a firm hand to Bucky’s shoulder and chuckles. “Nah, you like it.” He tosses him the keys – a very clear end of conversation – and turns to leave, his unofficial driver waiting out front in the limo. “Anyway, it’s… sticking a bit,” he says, waving his hand carelessly through the air as he walks backwards toward the garage door. “Just… take a look. And… I want you to know, I’m trusting you with something very important here. Don’t screw it up.” And with that, he turns and leaves.

Bucky stands painfully still, wide-eyed stare directed out the door long after Tony’s already begun his retreat back to his side of the city.

“Is that…?”

He spins on a heel, finding Steve bent over the Cobra, delicately grazing his fingers atop the windshield in much the same way Bucky had cautiously – reverently – done just moments ago. “Yeah,” he answers, not needing to hear the rest of the question, those words lost in the same stunned fog he feels himself still wading through.

“This isn’t a replica,” Steve hisses out, eyes blowing wide as he tosses a glance Bucky’s way. He’s met with a slow headshake, a rather disbelieving confirmation. “This is… it’s original?” A simple, slow nod. “Semi-Competition? This…” He straightens, pulling his shoulders back as he stands upright, letting out a long, low whistle. “I know everybody says he’s… eccentric. But…” He raises a brow, wide, crooked smile rolling over his features. “He’s really gonna trust you with this?”

Bucky reaches up and scratches at the back of his head, a rather confounded expression creeping over his face. “Seems like.”

The two men continue to stand, silently staring at the little convertible in front of them. A masterpiece. A legend. The wet dream of any car enthusiast. It’s amazing. Glorious. Perfect. And…

“No!” Bucky shouts, the sudden bellow pulling deep from his chest as he lunges forward just in time to stop the tiny, sticky, chocolate-covered tornado racing towards the work of art. Steve hops back as Bucky grabs the little girl, narrowly avoiding a tiny foot to the groin, when he swings her round and hauls her up into his arms. He spins her in his grip so that she’s facing him – wide-eyed smile and fat cheeks alight as raucous giggles spill out of her – and he raises a serious, commanding brow. “Do. Not. Touch.”

He adjusts the tyke on his hip, settling her into the crook of his left arm as he pulls a cloth from his pocket and begins roughly wiping at the melted streaks of chocolate on her face. She wiggles in his grip and pushes against his chest with a whiny groan, leaning away to see the car that Uncle Steve is so fondly caressing. “Pretty,” she croons, spitting messily around the cloth as he continues to drag it across her chin and lips.

“No more long johns for breakfast,” he declares, shifting to try and juggle her wiggly form with the rag so he can get at her hands.

“What’s a donut without chocolate icing?” Steve asks lightly, finally stepping over to help. He plucks a clean rag from the countertop and finishes wiping her down. “You are a mess.”

Bucky gives her a little bounce and looks at Steve with an almost chiding glare. “Yeah, well, you are a shitty babysitter.”

“Says the guy who just cursed in front of a four year old,” he counters with a smug smirk.

Bucky’s face hardens and sets into a scowl. “I’m not a babysitter. I’m her father. Different standard.”

“Shitty!” the little girl sings out gleefully, following it up with a wide-eyed, “Uh-oh,” upon seeing Bucky’s stare, his single, reprimanding brow raised high.

He shifts her to his other side, pulling away from Steve and sidestepping him to move over to the front of the Cobra. The austere set to his features quickly fades as dark curls bounce in his periphery and small hands clamp together behind his neck.

It had taken nearly a week for Maya to stop over analyzing whether she made a weird impression when she met Bucky, and it was August now. She had to clear her mind to polish up her lesson plans and start worrying more about getting her classroom ready for September. 

She had always had a vision of what her classroom would look like, ever since she decided that she wanted to teach. This ideal classroom included filled bookcases, walls covered up and down with art and references to her favorite books and characters, both classic and contemporary. Every person Maya opened her mouth to in the past several months knew just how excited she was about this classroom. 

Maya was practically itching to talk about it and luckily for her, Nat came in the day that she got the keys to her classroom. 

She found herself waving Nat down as soon as she walked in through the door. Maya didn’t even wait for her to take a seat before opening her mouth. “So I’ve been hoarding a lot of stuff for the new classroom--” 

Nat laughed. “Yeah, I helped you pick out more than half of it.” 

Maya stopped in her tracks and slapped on a comical pout. “Nat… You know it’s for the children…” 

“Yeah, of course. For the children,” she smiled back to Maya, only pausing to talk to MJ, letting her know she just wanted her usual coffee and pastry. 

Maya grinned from ear to ear, waiting for Nat’s shoulders to square back to her’s. “Anyways! I got my keys today and I was thinking, well-- Now, I know that this is kind of, you know… our spot, BUT I was wondering if you were free for the rest of the day? I was thinking, we could, maybe, caffeinate and you could help me move everything into my new classroom, maybe?” 

Maya knew asking this was a bit of a longshot, hence all the rambling. It was never verbally spoken, but she knew that Nat, Steve and everyone from Avengers’ tower knew not to make real connections outside of their small circle. And Maya wasn’t stupid by any means, she knew that it made sense. She always thought about it long and hard, understanding that getting close to anyone who wasn’t super human, anyone that wasn’t capable of truly defending themselves was, in a way, selfish of them. Maya continued to make arguments in her head about how Nat wouldn’t have let herself get close to her, and that she wouldn’t joke about her and Steve if that was really the case. This only confused her more if anything, but nonetheless, she kept her fingers crossed because she genuinely considered Nat to be her friend. 

Nat paused for a moment, and Maya could see her genuinely weighing out her options as Nat’s head tilted back and forth. Then, her head dropped between her shoulders and her hand came up to rub the back of her neck. “You know what? Yeah. I just had some training scheduled with Steve but moving things is a work out, right? Actually, should I ask him if he wants to help us out?” 

Maya exhaled a bit and took a moment to process her answer-- in the end she couldn’t help but smile. “Yes! Oh my God, thank you! And, yeah, I was going to ask if he could help anyways because I have some heavy furniture that I need to be brought into my classroom. The chair and desk that the school left for me just don’t make the cut you know?” She was still rambling, but more so because of her excitement than her anxiety now. “And with his help, we can knock it all out sooner! As thanks, maybe I can make you guys dinner tonight? Or another night?” 

Her friend couldn’t help but laugh a bit at her ability to get so many words out in one breath. Before responding, Nat pulled out her phone. “Hold on. Let me call Steve first.” 

Nat was on the phone for maybe a minute, only pausing to confirm which school. 

“Midtown Sci and Tech. It’s in Queens,” Maya grinned, only getting more and more excited by the minute. 

Nat nodded, “Midtown Tech… Yeah, in Queens… Yeah, I’m sure that’s fine! Also, steal Happy’s SUV-- there’s some furniture you’ll be moving… Awesome, see you in a bit.” Then a click and the phone call ended. 

“Steve said Bucky’s coming along. I hope you don’t mind.” 

Maya’s brain nearly short circuited. It’s not that she minded but she felt a bit blind sided, especially having only met him once prior for less than the duration of a commercial break. 

Despite this she reminded herself to smile. “Oh! Oh yeah, that’s fine! I guess I need all the help that I can get.” 

MJ called out Nat’s name, leaving her coffee and pastry on the counter. 

Nat stood up and grabbed her order, simultaneously asking, “Do you want to get another coffee before we start loading stuff up? The guys won’t be here for 20 minutes probably. Steve has to choose between two dozen different white t-shirts.” 

They both laughed. 

“No thanks, we can just head up now. I have a few last minute things to pack before we start loading the cars. Thanks again, Nat. I really do appreciate it.” 

“It’s no problem. Lead the way!” And with that, Maya and Nat made their way out of the coffee shop and directly into the door to the left of the cafe entrance, which opened up to a staircase that led directly to Maya’s front door. 

-- 

The two girls spent the next 20 minutes packing up the last couple of boxes and were already loading a few into Maya’s car by the time Steve and Bucky pulled into the spot right behind Maya’s blue Toyota. 

“Hey, short stack,” Steve greeted Maya, holding the door open for her and Nat to walk back up to the apartment. 

“Sup, gramps,” Maya teased, stepping through the door, closely followed by Nat, then Steve, then Bucky. 

Once they got up the stairs, it was Maya that held the door open for everyone to file in. As they did, she realized just how small it was. The mere height and broadness of Steve and Bucky made the previously vast space feel tiny very suddenly. 

The studio was made up of one large rectangle and a door that led to the bathroom. 

As you walked in through the door, the kitchen appeared to the left. You could only see where it ended distinctly because of the dining table, which was scattered with filing boxes overflowing with books that Maya had been hoarding nearly her entire life. 

Past the dining table was the entertainment stand, which was really just a short, long bookshelf where she stored her personal books, movies and CD collection. It was also home to a dozen or so personal journals that Maya refused to leave at her parents’ house out of sheer paranoia. 

Opposite to the television was an old leather couch and a small, pale wooden coffee table sat in between the two. Both the couch and coffee table were stacked with more books and a few more boxes dedicated to student freebies, desk supplies, as well as classroom decorations. And leaning against the wall were the boxes holding all the unassembled furniture Maya previously made the UPS man haul up the stairs similarly to the way she was going to make Steve and Bucky lug them back down. 

Just to the right of the television was the door to the bathroom and to the right of that was a massive wooden wardrobe. Across from the wardrobe sat Maya’s full sized bed, which looked mighty comfortable with the abundance of pillows alongside a questionable amount of stuffed animals for a fully grown and independent woman. 

The desk was a hybrid nightstand, as it was pressed up against the wall and sandwiched between the bed and the couch. And as for the walls, miscellaneous things were hanging up and a photo collage above the desk was in the works. 

Maya had to take a moment to understand how her apartment would look from a newcomers perspective for the first time and she grew a little embarrassed. After taking a breath she internally hoped that they wouldn’t make any comments about the state of her living space.

Steve and Bucky took this time to look around for themselves. 

And Steve was quite impressed. “Nice set up! Is it just you?” 

“Yup! Just me! I was thinking about getting a cat or something. I had a lot of pets growing up and just having the company would be really nice.”

A smile was almost immediately slapped across Steve’s face, “Ooooohhhh! There’s a great adoption place Bucky and I have volunteered at. It’s not far from here, actually. We can bring you another time, huh Buck?” 

Bucky nodded, hands shoved in his pockets, “Yeah. We could do that.” 

Maya took this moment to finally greet Bucky, “Yeah, that’d be great actually! Also, thank you James, for coming to help.” 

Her words were short and sweet because she barely let him get out a nod and a ‘No problem’ before giving directions. 

“Okay, if you guys could take all the big furniture and bigger boxes of books on the couch to the SUV, that would be amazing! Nat and I will handle the rest of the stuff in the kitchen and the smaller boxes on the couch. Then, we’ll head to Midtown.” 

After brief nods the guys got to work right away and Nat grabbed another one of the boxes cluttering the dining table before making her way downstairs again. 

It only really took fifteen minutes for the four of them to finish packing up the cars. This mostly had to do with the fact that Bucky and Steve didn’t need help lugging boxes of books down the stairs. Nor did they need breaks after several times up and down the stairs, unlike Maya. 

Once the boxes all trickled out, Maya smiled at the cleaner state of her apartment. After a moment she grabbed the building and classroom keys out of her desk drawer, double checked her bag and did some last minute grabs. Half a dozen locks later, she’s meeting the other three downstairs by the cars. 

“You guys know how to get there right?” Maya asked Steve before thinking long and hard about whether she’d forgotten anything. 

He nodded before pushing the button to close the trunk to the SUV. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure. We’ll be right behind you anyways.” 

“Aw, no racing?” Nat taunts him. 

“Not like you stand a chance,” Bucky retorts. 

“Is that so, James?” Maya asks, mostly joking. She realizes, quickly though, that her competitive side is what gives her the courage to speak to Bucky in such a tone. 

“It’s not even a question, sweetheart.” Bucky laughs, before patting the top of her car’s hood. “Let’s just get a move on, yeah?” 

“They just know they would have lost,” Nat sneers before climbing into the passenger seat of Maya’s car. 

-- 

It’s on the drive there that Nat directly asks Maya about her potential relationship with Steve: “Are you sure? You wouldn’t even give poor Stevie a chance?” 

Maya can’t help but blush in response. “It’s not Steve. I would be interested, yeah but-- I don’t know. I don’t feel anything romantic for Steve for whatever reason. I mean, he’s great! And I love being around him, but I just feel like he’s a great best friend, good brother type. You know?” 

Nat huffed a bit. “I just think that you guys would be great together. You already get along so well and have a lot in common. It just feels really obvious to me.” 

“Sometimes the obvious path isn’t always the right one.” 

“Did you just quote a Pixar film to me?” 

“Nat you realize that you didn’t even skip a beat; you knew exactly what I was quoting.” 

“Oh hush, Steve’s the one that made me watch it!” 

“In any case, don’t get your hopes up. OR Steve’s! I don’t want things to be weird with him just because you think we’re cute together.” 

Nat can’t help but roll her eyes. “Just keep an open mind, yeah?” 

Maya presses her lips together and nods. “Of course.”