#NotDead. #Probably.
Cross-posted from AO3/tumblr same day.
/ noun
/ 1. acuteness of mental discernment and soundness of judgment.
Bucky took one look at the cute but in-no-way-possibly-legal kid browsing the art on the walls and crossed his arms over his chest, readying himself for an argument with daddy's spoiled little brat wherein no amount of money could possibly get him to capitulate on the state law requirement that one had to be 18 or older to receive a tattoo. He'd dealt with enough of those punks that thought they could do anything with the right kind of money and didn't know how to take 'no' for an answer.
The kid turned around with a soft, excited smile, which promptly melted at Bucky's hard expression. His shoulders deflated and the kid was so small that Bucky felt an irrational fear that he'd deflated.
"I am over eighteen you know," the stranger offered, already pulling out his wallet.
Bucky frowned deeper. He'd seen enough fake licenses to last a lifetime, and no matter how good the forgery, they'd never get past him. Never stopped them from trying though.
Blondie sighed again, all excitement gone from his expression and his posture, and slowly trudged out the door without another word. Bucky sighed too, though his was in relief that he'd avoided a fight. He was supposed to go on a blind date tonight and he didn't need that kind of lingering stress hanging over him.
An hour later, he was startled from his book at the sound of the bell over the door ringing, and he looked up to find the stranger back, but this time with a familiar red-head in tow.
"Romanoff?" he said, surprised.
Natasha blinked at him. "Barnes?"
The kid looked back and forth between them for a moment before saying "Steve?"
Suddenly, the confusion disappeared from Natasha's face, replaced with a mischievousness that made Bucky wary. Blondie too, if his sudden trepidation was any indication.
"So, Steve, that blind date I set you up on. Remember how I said they did tattoos?"
Bucky's eyes darted between Natasha and Steve with a slowly dawning comprehension.
"Nat-"
"I would say this settles it!" she said with that dangerous grin and a clap of her hands. "Bucky, Steve. Steve, Bucky. Alright boys, let's get tattooed!"
Steve's ID did indeed say he was over eighteen, twenty-six in fact, though the tattoos spread over his skin when he removed his shirt were far more telling. Nat was the one to keep the conversation going through the almost painfully awkward consultation, but the longer Steve sat in Bucky's chair, the easier Bucky found it to talk to him. It wasn't until Steve left after pressing a phone number to Bucky's palm and a kiss to his cheek that he realized Nat had disappeared shortly after they began. And it wasn't until Steve left that Bucky realized their scheduled dinner for that evening was still in play, and would be their second date.
He might have closed shop a little early that day.
FINIS
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