"When will you let me take you out? C'mon, I've been comin' in for weeks."
Bucky hid a smile behind his glass filled with whiskey as he watched the brunette bartender fake a smile as she handed the guy a beer. "You don't want me to throw this beer instead of serve it, do you?"
"Aw June-"
"Do you?"
"No," he responded defeated.
"Go on over to your friends," she said, handing him the beer with a hint of a smile on her face. She pushed her hair behind her ears and shook her head as the guy turned and joined his friends as June had instructed. June glanced around the small bar before walking over to Bucky. "It's your fourth time here, and you probably know my name at this point just from over hearing others. Four times makes you a semi-regular and I'm thereby obligated to ask your name."
Bucky had stumbled across the hole-in-the-wall bar and immediately found it to be one of the few public spaces he felt comfortable in. It was a place that he wasn't sure if it was meant to feel like a vintage bar or if it was dirty and old, but either way he found it to be comfortable. The lights were always relatively dim and there were plenty of corners to tuck away in. Bucky has started coming a few weeks ago, finding it to be a good place to get out of the house, make Steve think he was taking his advice to find a hobby and be around new people. The bar had proved to be a great place to come with a book. June had been the bartender two other times he came and was just getting off her shift the last time.
"You're not obligated to do anything," Bucky replied. "It's fine if you don't want to know my name. It's not going to change how much I tip if you don't and I don't plan on sexually harassing you at work."
June paused, then laughed loudly. "I wanna know your name because you're an interesting character," she said with a wink. "Not many people come here solo and aren't just looking for a therapist in the bartender."
"Bucky."
"Are you new to Brooklyn?"
"Grew up here," Bucky answered. "I left for awhile and now I live in Manhattan." Bucky felt pleased with himself for giving a vague, but true answer. Awhile could mean any amount of time, so what if he meant 70 some years? "You don't sound like you're from here."
"I'm not. I'm from a small town called Bryson City in North Carolina."
Bucky nodded, not quite sure what to say. She answered his question. He didn't know if he wanted to continue the conversation and even if he did he didn't know what exactly he was supposed to talk about. He wasn't used to understanding what he did and didn't want after so many years of taking orders and just surviving.
"I get off in ten minutes. Have a drink with me?"
"Is that a question or a statement?" Bucky asked, a ghost of a smile on his lips as June's cheeks pinkened, though only slightly.
"A question. You're interesting."
"Alright," Bucky agreed. "Let me pay you if you're getting off."
June had a few other customers settle up with her in the ten minutes before her replacement walked in and in that time she also got Bucky a fresh drink on the house and poured herself the same thing. Once June and her co-worker made sure the cash drawer was right, she walked from behind the bar and met Bucky, tucked in a corner.
"What animal would you be if you were an animal?"
Bucky snorted, it wasn't something he had expected to come from her mouth when she sat down. Especially not the first thing. "Uh, I've honestly never thought about it."
"I would be a cat. Like a barn cat. Not quite domesticated, not quite feral."
"I might be a feral cat."
"You've been pretty well behaved here."
"It's just my fourth time, just you wait doll," Bucky said. His sentence, and the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, caught him by surprise, but felt natural.
"If you're feral just make sure I'm on this side of the bar."
"Deal." They each took sips of their drink. June tucked her legs into her chest and rested her arms on top of them in a way that Bucky didn't understand how it could possibly be comfortable. Maybe because she was considerably smaller than him. "You ever miss Bryson City?"
June nodded. "For sure. I visit once a year, usually a holiday. I don't miss it enough to move back. My parents and brother are still there. I came here for school and just settled in pretty easily. I was really lucky though, ya know? I mean, maybe you don't since you've always lived here. I'm sure living in New York City isn't hard if that's all you've ever known. I had great internships that paid throughout school. When that was over I lucked into learning to bartend and have been at a few different spots that are good money. Now I'm here, the money is great every shift and I get to set my own schedule. I've published some poems. I have a decent apartment and a cat. I'm pretty much living my dream."
The smile on her face brought one to Bucky's own face. He was in the presence of someone that was truly content with their life and he made note of what it felt like, what it looked like in her eyes. "Poems, huh? Can I read 'em?"
June nodded. "Just gotta google my name. I won't make it that easy for you," she winked. "There's an open mic at a bar in Bedford-Stuy in a couple weeks. You could come with me if you want. They are a lot of fun."
"What if I don't know anything about poetry?"
"All you gotta know about poetry is when I read mine you snap your fingers the loudest and maybe let out a 'whoop' or two." Bucky laughed so loudly and genuinely that he was surprised by the sound and the feeling and it must have shown. "You don't laugh enough."
Bucky merely shrugged. He didn't tell June that she was right, or that he had come the closest to laughing the most this afternoon. He didn't understand it and if he focused on it too much it made him uncomfortable.