tagged by @kangofu-cb to post my most recently written line, but i’m just going to post a chunk from a wip because i want to. this is bucky going to starbucks for the first time, luckyverse.
Bucky follows Peter into the store. It’s sparse, with high ceilings and poured cement floors that catch every echo and whisper. The line to order is short, and Bucky stares at the menu board, but just as he begins to read, the words disappear, replaced by stylized images of flavored ice teas. He tries to read about them, but they fade out, the text returning. The images cycle too fast, and besides, Bucky doesn’t even know what a macchiato or a flat white is supposed to be anyway. The words are not helpful.
Clint was right. Bucky does hate this a little. He knows Peter will help, but Bucky likes to choose for himself, and he isn’t sure he’ll be able to do that here.
But not everything is about him. Peter wanted to be here, and he wanted company, and he seems happy and relaxed beside Bucky in line. And Peter has been very patient with Bucky, offering him friendship for months with little recompense, and so Bucky can shut up and stand in this line and drink whatever appears before him.
“Hi,” Peter says when they reach the front of the line. “I want a venti caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino with extra whip, and he’ll have, like, an Americano or something serious like that.”
“Name for the frappuccino?” the cashier asks, squinting at her register.
“Peter,” Peter says. “Peter Parker. Peter. Sorry, I don’t know why I told you my last name. Just Peter.”
“And what size is the Americano?” she asks, looking at Bucky like she’d rather be doing absolutely anything else in the entire world.
“What’s an Americano?” Bucky asks Peter quietly, not wanting to inconvenience this poor girl any more but also not wanting to walk out of here with an abomination that Clint will tease him for.
“No one knows,” Peter says.
“It’s espresso shots and hot water,” the cashier says tiredly. “It’s like very strong coffee.”
“Oh. That’s good,” Bucky says. Clint would like that choice. Bucky thinks he’ll like it, too. “A medium, please. The name is Bucky.”
“Nine dollars and forty cents,” she says, and Bucky has a brief flash of anxiety when he realizes he genuinely does not have any money and does not know how to get any. But before he can vocalize this, Peter is whipping out his phone and touching the screen to a sensor on the register.
“Thanks,” Bucky says, following Peter over to the area where people are waiting for their drinks. “I’ll pay you back.” He’s not sure how, but he knows he has some back-pay from the army somewhere, not to mention all the cash he stashed in various locations around the country over the last decade. None of it is especially accessible from his current location, but it’s out there. He’ll acquire some money somehow. He’ll pay Peter back.
“It’s not a big deal,” Peter says with a shrug. “I have the app. I’ll get stars.”
Bucky has absolutely no idea what that means, but he thinks that is a conversation for a different time.
When their drinks are called, Peter’s is a towering ice monstrosity, dripping with whipped cream and caramel sauce. Bucky’s is a more modest cup of steaming coffee, and he stirs one packet of sugar into it as Peter jams a straw into his cup and takes an eager slurp.
“Awesome,” Peter says happily. “Is yours good?”
Bucky carefully fits the lid back onto his cup and then picks it up with his right hand. There is a cardboard sleeve around the cup, but he still feels the gentle warmth seep through to his skin. He sips tentatively, and the coffee is hot and sharp, with just a slight undercurrent of sweetness from the sugar. It’s exactly how he likes his coffee to taste, and he closes his eyes and take a second indulgent sip.
It’s a small pleasure, but a nice and unexpected one.
“Awesome,” Bucky echoes, and Peter grins at him.
They head out of the store and back to the car. Bucky has his left hand in his jeans pocket and his right hand holding a cup of coffee, and he feels calm and content like he hasn’t in years. He didn’t expect this trip to amount to much, and in the grand scheme of his life, it hasn’t. This is a blip, a moment in time. It’s barely anything at all. But to feel happy and comfortable again after so long without it is quietly exhilarating. Like maybe there is still something good in store for him in this life. Like there is still something he can look forward to, even if it’s just more small pockets of peace.
