So this story has been stewing in my brain space since nearly a year ago, when Captain America: The Winter Soldier first came came out. It has been distracting me from plenty of other important projects and I think it's about time I just layed it out and hopefully gain some peace of mind. I have a vague idea of where I want this story to go, but it will probably just start out as a series of one-shots and drabbles. I am honestly just coming up with the story as I write it and am not really planning anything in advance. I'm just seeing where this story, my ideas, and my characters take me.
That being said, Bucky is precious to me and I think he needs a friend who may or may not turn into something more. Again, I am just coming up with things is I go along, though I have some tricks up my sleeve for Kaitlin. There is a lot more to her than meets the eye.
So, enjoy, review, follow, and favorite if you like. It's always nice to hear what you all have to say.
Five tables into my shift at work, and I already wanted to throw hot beverages into several peoples faces. One for Mike, who thought it would be funny to 'accidentally' brush his hand across my ass as he reached to pick up his fallen fork. Two for Tonya, who got angry at me for informing her that "No, we do not serve organic water." About seven for Lewis, who asked me if felt as good as I looked, all the while leering down the front of my nineteen-fifties diner outfit, consisting of a short red, frilly dress and a white apron.
And an entire pot of hot coffee for my boss, Rick, who insisted the entire staff wear the damn things in the first place for authenticity.
"Kaitlin, if the customer wants organic water, then get her some organic water!"
No, make that two pots for Rick.
Needless to say, I nearly cried and thanked the food service/handling gods when the clock finally read one-thirty am, a half-hour before closing.
Smiling as Marcus stumbled out of the diner after assuring me he was going to call a cab, I went about cleaning the empty bar and daydreaming about going home. Taking off my shoes, watch some Doctor Who, maybe eat an entire bag of salt and vinegar chips….
Getting lost in my mind, I swayed my hips and spun with the broom to Elvis Presley's smooth voice resounding Jailhouse Rock softly through the colorful jukebox, only stumbling a few times when I moved to spin or attempt a very complicated slide across the polished floors. Diego, the cook and my only friend at work, laughed at my uncoordinated, groovy moves while checking out for the night. I chose to stick my tongue out him in retaliation as he left.
"Kaitlin," Rick booming voice from the back popped my happy bubble. Scaring me out of my super advanced scissor-step that was kind-of on beat with Heartbreak Hotel, I very gracefully tripped over my own two feet and crashed to the floor. Gracefully.
"What?" I yelled back from my spot on the floor, supremely irritated.
"Did ya not hear the bell? Get'cha head out of the clouds and help the customer!"
"Customer? Nobody comes at this hour-"
I peek my head over the counter and to my horror, there was a lone figure standing by the door, a man, looking towards me and waiting to be seated. How long had be been standing there? I had no idea, but judging by the confused quirk of his lips, long enough. I died a little on the inside. The poor guy probably thought he had just walked into a mad house. I could practically hear Rick grumbling from his office about the importance of first impressions and how much I magnificently sucked at them.
I looked to the clock, and then died a little more. One-fiftyfive. Five minutes before closing.
Damnit.
This guy was an asshole.
There wasn't much of him to look at, what with his face hiding under a baseball cap, only showing dark hair that reached past his chin and an unshaven jaw line. The rest of him was covered in an oversized hoodie and well worn jeans. He looked unkempt, and at first I thought he was going to rob the place, or worse, causing my deep-seated paranoia to flare up. He could have been hiding a gun in his hoodie for all I knew.
We had a pretty intense staring contest for a few seconds too long, but he didn't make a move to do anything sinister and I was just sitting there with my head peeking over the counter, openly gaping at him like an extremely rude child.
Yep, any good first impressions were out the window.
I let out an involuntary squeak when I ducked back under the counter to try and quickly fix my hair and straighten my apron. Popping back, I forced tight lipped smile onto my face.
"Go ahead and seat yourself where you like. I'll be with you an a sec." I told him as I turned and put the last glass away and grab him a menu, cursing the way my voice cracked. How much had he seen? Did he see my clumsy square-step? Or the one-footed spin I had yet to master? My thoughts stayed on him as I picked up the broom I had knocked over again.
Then suddenly, without making a sound, he was behind me, choosing to seat himself at the bar.
"Woah," was my undignified reaction upon turning and seeing him much closer than before, "That was, um, wow," I was trying -and failing- to act like I didn't jump out of my skin and drop his menu like an idiot, even though I totally did.
He was not there, and then he was.
He had my curiosity burning.
"How did you- uh, cough, Nevermind," I stammered.
Shut up and grab the menu, Kaitlin.
Of course, when I bent down to grab the menu, I smacked the back of my head on the bar on my way back up. Beautiful.
"Um, here is your menu." I mumbled, rubbing the back of my poor head while pretending that I didn't just nearly concuss myself. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.
He took the menu wordlessly with his right hand, choosing to keep his left hand in his pocket as he sat himself at the last stool of the bar I had just cleaned, making me like him even less.
"Let me know if I can get you anything, okay?" He just nodded, only briefly looking at me before turning away. Rude.
As I dragged my feet to get him a glass of water, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He sat at an angle, with the bar resting under his right arm, giving him a view of the entire diner. He looked lost, tired, and more than a little intimidating, if his permanently furrowed brow was anything to go by.
His eyes, though. From what I could see of them, they were alert, yes, intelligent even, but they were empty. A perfect indifference, which I guess made me feel a little better about myself.
"You want some coffee?" I asked him. I didn't think water was going to cut it for this guy.
Again, he only nodded, glancing my way for only a brief second. I had yet to discern the exact color of his eyes, only being able to see that they were some shade of blue under the shadow of his cap. I really wanted to know.
"Okay…" I mumbled, looking at the checkered floor and walking away.
As I poured the vital life juice, one mug for him and one for me to sip on the side, Rick decided to exit through the back, yelling that he was putting me in charge of closing shop before leaving me completely alone with suspicious guy, who was much, much bigger than me.
You could imagine my mortification at the thought.
I really hated Rick.
"So..." I started as I handed him his coffee with an uneven hand, "H-Have you made a decision? For your food, I mean. Or will it be just coffee?"
He lifted his head and his eyes came into the light. He really looked at me for the first time, and I found myself startled by his clear, crystalline blue eyes, much more beautiful than I had anticipated. But there was a lost soul look to them, like he had been wandering for a long time looking for something.
...Wow.
His mouth opened, but then closed again, before just shaking his head no. I couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. Despite his gruff, disheveled appearance, he looked like someone who would have a nice voice. I really wanted to hear it.
I turned to walk away, but stopped and turned back, my fingers twisting together nervously as I did so.
"You know, we've turned the stoves off, but we have a super good turkey sandwich that I can fix up for you."
What am I doing?
I mentally rolled my eyes at myself and turned to walk away again before he could respond, weird guy doesn't want to hear what you have to say.
"Yes."
My eyes widened behind my glasses and slowly rotated my body to face him again.
Did he just speak to me?
"Yes?" Yes to the turkey sandwich? I squeak.
He just looked back at me strangely, as if my fluttery and nervous behavior is a cause for concern (which it isn't), but nodded his head slowly.
So I hadn't imagined it.
"Yes! Okay, one turkey sandwich! Got it." I said a with a little fist pump little too much determination. Why did I do that?
I quickly retreated to the kitchen, partly to hide from my horrific social blunder, but mostly start preparing his sandwich. Ever so often I looked through the window to peek at my customer while I layered turkey, lettuce, tomato, and special sauce on wheat. He just sat there quietly, looking into his coffee mug, taking the occasional sip with hunched shoulders, outwardly looking completely relaxed and a little tired. But his eyes scanned the room several times, seemingly casing the exits, looking for quick escape routes.
Most people wouldn't notice that, but it takes one to know one.
His eyes missed nothing. Not all the switches for the fire alarms, not the amount of windows and air vent and doors in the room, not the cameras in all corners of the room...
Not even me conspicuously spying at him through the kitchen window like a complete weirdo.
Shit.
I was caught. He knew it, I knew it, and there was no going back from that awkwardness.
So I just smiled and awkwardly and gracelessly crashed through the kitchen door with dinner plate in tow.
"Here you are," I slid the plate containing his sandwich and potato chips over to him, acting like I hadn't just been creeping on him. I tried to leave him alone after dropping him his food, busying myself with wiping down tables and gathering salt and pepper shakers, but I couldn't help but give him some more suspicious side eye every few seconds. He studied the dish carefully before picking up a half and cautiously biting into it. Chewing slowly at first, he picked up speed after it passed some sort of test. I quietly huffed, trying to not to feel offended at his apparent mistrust of my sandwich making abilities. It's like he was paranoid of me drugging him or something. Do I look like the kind of person that would do that?
But after it passed his weird test, the meal started to disappear quickly, his bites growing larger and coming faster. Would it be his last meal for a while? It very well possible could have, considering his homeless guy appearance.
And he never took his left hand out of his pocket. Maybe he really did have a gun. Or drugs. Or gangrene. Leprosy?
He continued eating while I locked up from the inside and started putting up chairs, trying to ignore the weirdness of the situation.
It was weird, and uncomfortable, and awkward, with the only sounds in the room being his chewing, my scraping chairs across the floor, and Elvis crooning Can't Help Falling in Love. Should I speak to him?
No, no I shouldn't.
"So, what brings you here so late at night?" I blurbed as I put the last chair up.
There. I ruined it.
Why didn't I keep my mouth shut?
It looked like he was thinking the same thing, if his vacant, unamused stare was anything to go by.
"I mean, you don't have to answer if you don't want to. It's really none of my business. I was just curious is all, and I don't really think before speaking." I felt the emergency brakes in my mouth start to slip, stop while you're ahead, "Things just kind of spill out and before I know it everything just goes to hell. You could ask any of my coworkers, they would all say the same things like "Kaitlin is just super awkward," or "Yeah, Kaitlin doesn't really know how to talk to people.""
Stop talking, Kaitlin,
"My family moved around a lot growing up so you'd think I would be better with dealing with strangers; but I'm not. I've always been too shy or too scared or anxious and when that happens I just get keep talking even though I know I should stop. I am a very awkward person, you see, but I am pretty good at cooking, serving, and bartending for some reason." My brain was now on red alert, mortified and did I really just humble brag?, "But I don't mean to sound arrogant! No, I am just explaining why I probably still… have my job… And I'm… I'm just gonna shut up now. Sorry… I really didn't mean for things to come out that way."
Needless to say, I grounded myself from ever opening my mouth again. Even he looked a little startled.
I blew it.
So I sighed and collapsed onto the stool on the opposite end of the bar, wallowing in my un-coolness and sipping my coffee. I was waiting for him to finish his sandwich, or run away, whatever came first.
"...I don't know."
I snapped my head towards him at the sound of his voice, barely above a whisper. I tried to not let my inner freak-out show.
"What?"
"I don't know why I came here." He answered simply, looking down at his coffee mug again.
"Oh," I responded lamely. I looked down and started to play with my brown ponytail, not trusting myself to ever open my mouth again ever. "Well..."
And there I go again, starting a sentence without having any idea how to finish it. Seeing that his plate was empty, I shut my mouth and rose to return it to the kitchen, leaving him alone again. All the while thinking on how to properly finish that sentence.
I could say the usual 'I'm glad you came.' I gave to almost any other customer, even though not really because my shift was supposed to end over twenty minutes ago and I was kinda pissed about that. No, not that one. What was I supposed to say to this nameless man?
Name. I didn't even know his name. Seemed harmless enough.
"Hey," I started conversationally as I returned to the bar, "I never caught your nam-"
But I never finished that sentence, because he was gone with a tinkling of the doorbell. I looked around the barren diner with wide eyes, shocked and a little miffed that he would leave so suddenly. But then again, I couldn't blame him. I even scare myself sometimes.
I knew I shouldn't have been. I mean, I hadn't even know the man longer than an hour. He could have been a killer for all I knew, but I felt a twinge of sadness to see that had left me so suddenly. It wasn't often that someone as fascinating as him passed through my small life.
Even so, I would probably never see him again.
The only proof left of his existence was the empty coffee mug and a crumpled twenty dollar on the counter.
He was there, and then he wasn't.
He did have a nice voice though...
There it is! I will try to update as soon as I can, but I make no promises to update frequently and/or on a regular basis. I just write when inspiration strikes me, and am figuring out things as I write. But, your feedback does greatly encourage me and I love hearing from all of you.
Good night!
-IAmTheStars