Chapter 24: Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

Somewhere around two in the morning, Bucky realized he'd forgotten to pay for his coffee.

It wasn't quite his fault, he knew. Between the increased lack of sleep over the past two weeks and the mild panic attack the night before, forgetting to settle the check was understandable. Part of him even threatened to be apathetic about it. After all, with the things he'd done in his past, stealing a cup of coffee was the least of his worries. But he was supposed to be a new man now. He was supposed to be better. He didn't need to be pushed any further into the red. Although the thought of returning to the bar stuffed with prying eyes was enough to make him rethink...everything.

Around six o'clock, he came to a conclusion. He would just stop by right after opening. It was an easy solution. Odds were low that many people would be present, and he would be able to settle his tab with no complications. The only problem was he had no idea when the doors would be unlocked. He pulled out his phone, figuring he could use his one source that may have information on the subject. He was getting better at this whole "texting" thing, but it still gave him a little trouble, especially since he could only use one hand.

What time does the pub open? He carefully typed out his message before sending it. He couldn't remember the name of the place, though he knew he could recognize it. He just needed to know when to make his visit. Mika texted him back almost immediately, which surprised him given the early hour.

Ready for another night out already? was her first message, accompanied by a yellow face winking at him. She used these little yellow faces a lot, and he wasn't quite sure where they came from. He started typing his answer, but was interrupted by another message from her. This confused him too. Why didn't she just send everything at once? Not sure though. According to Google it's 6 pm, but I know that's a lie. That was too late, it increased the likelihood of excess patrons.

Forgot to settle my tab. He responded, figuring that was explanation enough. It still felt weird to talk via these little notes, but it kind of reminded him of his past life. The life before the Soldier. But instead of short electronic nuggets, they were handwritten on scraps of paper and passed behind a teacher's back. He decided he liked it.

Pretty sure coffee is free. Her message was quick. Funny, he couldn't hear her moving around next door, yet she was clearly awake. He shrugged at her answer, then remembered she couldn't see it. That was one problem with texting: he had to use actual words, he couldn't just rely on her interpreting his vague physical responses.

Still. That was the best reply he could come up with. Mika didn't respond right away, so he took that to mean the conversation was over. That was fine, he hadn't exactly left it open anyway. He was working on that.

He went about his day, taking his time rereading his memories and cooking his lunch. He found a new yoga video on the application called YouTube, and though he didn't care much for the voice of the girl leading it, it was still good to get some exercise. He was getting antsy without work. When the summer sun passed into the late afternoon hours, he donned his baseball cap and his lightest work shirt and made his way back down the street to the pub. Foot traffic was minimal since it was a Sunday, so his trip was quiet and easy. The windows of the pub were dark when he arrived, and for a moment he was worried that it was closed. But the door swung open easily when he pulled on the handle, the chime above ringing through the empty room. No one, not even Hans, was present in the main area. He could hear movement behind the door labelled Staff Only, which instantly put him on high alert. His muscles tensed as footsteps moved towards the only barrier between him and the stranger, the fingers of his metal arm curling and uncurling.

"Sorry, we're actually closed - oh, uh, hi Bucky." Hans said after pulling open the door. Bucky tried to make himself relax; he didn't want to scare the bartender. Behind him, the sound of food cooking echoed through the empty pub. He tried not to make a face as the smell hit him. He knew Hans was known for making good drinks, but it seemed his talents did not extend to cooking.

"Apologies, I can come back later." he said, taking one step back towards the front entrance. Hans waved him off.

"No, no worries. I forgot to lock the door after me. Been a crazy day - Agatha, my cook, she called in sick which she has never done, so I'm attempting to cook anything for tonight." he rambled, wiping his hands on the apron tied around his waist. He cleared his throat, shaking his head as if coming back to himself and continuing before Bucky could respond. "Anyway, how can I help you?"

Bucky pulled a few lei from his pocket. "I left rather suddenly last night. Forgot to settle my tab." he said, holding the bills up. Hans cocked his head to the side, as if confused.

"Coffee is free." he said. Ah, so Mika was right. Good to know. He was going to respond, but was distracted by the smell from the kitchen. This time, he couldn't stop himself from wrinkling his nose.

"I think your food is burning." he said instead. Hans looked vaguely perplexed for a moment before the alarm set in, his eyes going wide as the scent reached him as well.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, bolting back into the kitchen. Pots and pans rattled around, as if they were being pushed from the burners. More swearing came from the back room, muffled by the door as it slowly swung closed. This was a way out, Bucky knew. Hans was obviously busy. And the pub was closed. He should go. He should put the lei on the counter and leave. But he could still hear the vocalized frustrations from behind the closed door. He could leave. Or, he could stay and provide support.

He didn't think too hard about the decision. He knew which option he was going to take - the one he'd been forcing himself to take for almost a year. He dropped the cash on the counter before going to the back door and pushing it open. A mixture of steam and smoke danced around the ceiling as Hans hurriedly tried to salvage anything he could. Bucky could taste the fire on the back of his tongue; yep, he had royally burned it. The man had stopped yelling his obscenities and was instead muttering them under his breath, trying to scrape charred remnants from the bottom of a pan. Steam billowed around him as he rinsed the hot skillet in the sink. He should stop that, else he might warp the metal.

"Need some help?" Bucky asked, and Hans jumped at the sound of his voice. The pan clattered loudly to the bottom of the sink as he clutched his heart. He took a deep breath and laughed humorlessly before responding.

"You wouldn't happen to know how to cook?" he asked, his tone implying that he was not serious in his inquiry. Bucky shrugged.

"I do." he responded. Hans stared at him for a long minute, and Bucky stared back. He felt uncomfortable, but not near to the degree he usually did when people looked right at him. He could almost see the wheels turning as the man thought.

"You're serious?" he said finally, his brows furrowed and the pan in the sink long forgotten. Bucky nodded.

"Most of the time, yes." he replied. He had his moments of being less-serious, but didn't want to give Hans the wrong impression. Besides, he really did want to help; part of him was hoping he could get paid. Rent would be due soon, and there was no telling if or when the warehouse would reopen. Hans hesitated again, but not for as long this time.

"Brilliant. What are you doing right now? Mika mentioned once you worked nights. But if you're not working tonight, I would be happy to employ you on the short term. Actually, you'd kind of be saving my life." he said, letting out a long sigh of relief. He turned back to the sink, staring at the pan before deciding that it was a hopeless cause. He moved the other crispy pan away from the stove as well.

"I'm...between jobs at the moment. What's on the menu tonight?" Bucky asked. He was suddenly a little nervous. What if he was asked to make something that he didn't know the recipe for? He palmed his pocket for a moment, making sure his phone was still there. He'd learned about Google a couple days ago, that was a big game changer. He didn't realize people had such a wealth of information right at their fingertips. That also made him nervous - how easy was it to access the data dump from SHIELD's downfall? He blinked the thoughts away. Now was not the time to worry about such things.

Hans looked confused at his question. "Um...I don't know. We've always just served whatever Agatha felt like cooking. I don't think we even have menus." he looked around the kitchen at that point, as if these imaginary menus would magically appear. He gave up after this minimal search, throwing his hands up in a noncommittal gesture. "So I guess cook whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" Bucky repeated, making sure he understood him correctly. He'd never had freedom like that from a job. This was such an odd situation, and the alarms were definitely ringing in the back of his mind, but they weren't as loud as they were in the past. He knew it was weird, but he didn't want to think too hard as to why.

"Whatever you want." he reiterated. They stood awkwardly as Bucky took in everything in the kitchen - the piles of pots and pans, the utensils crammed into cylindrical holders. The shelves were stacked with more ingredients than he knew what to do with, and he had a feeling the refrigerator would be the same way. This would definitely exercise more than one part of his brain. Hans took a step toward the staff door. "Okay, I have to go get ready up front. Will you be okay in here?"

"Yes, I believe so." Bucky said with a decisive nod. This was different than he was used to, but he could handle it. It would be just like cooking for himself. Only he'd be cooking enough for a week, or maybe a month, instead of just one meal.

"Excellent. Doors open at five, it's our slowest night, but I'd still expect about forty people or so, uh, but we stop serving at eight instead of ten so it'll just be for a couple hours, and like I said I'll pay you, definitely, um...yea." he finished lamely. Like Mika, he rambled when he was nervous. But he didn't seem nervous because he was afraid of Bucky, which was a positive. But he didn't seem nervous in the way Mika did either. Bucky didn't understand it, but decided not to look too far into it. He had enough he needed to focus on for the next few hours. Hans took another step towards the door, but paused and turned back to him. "Thank you, for this. I seriously don't know what I'd do if...anyway, thank you."

"You're welcome." he replied. He was already calculating cooking times in his head. The hours were triggering something in the back of his mind, but he couldn't get the full thought to materialize. Hans gave him a quick smile before pushing through the door back to the main floor. The door swung closed, and Bucky was left on his own. The reality of this decision then settled on him, and he could feel his pulse elevating. This was, by far, the most impulsive thing he'd done since...he couldn't remember when. He took a steadying breath. This wasn't the worst situation. There was a back exit, a window to the front entrance, and multiple weapons within reach. The door could easily be barricaded if the need arose. He could manage this.

He set his shoulders and nodded to himself, pushing past the alarms in his mind and pulling his glove from his left hand. He tucked it neatly into his back pocket before forcing his arms to grab pots and pans. He stood in front of the pantry shelves, taking stock of the inventory and running through the recipes in his head. He wished he had his journal with him, with all his favorite ones written down. He would just have to go off instinct. He felt his mind ramp into overdrive, the different ingredients and amounts scrambling themselves and then sorting out in his brain. This wasn't the manual labor he was used to, more mental. It would be a challenge.

He smirked to himself, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt before piling ingredients into his arms. He liked challenges.

An hour later, the bell above the front door jingled and Hans came back in with the first request for food. The burn smell no longer lingered; instead the kitchen held the pleasant aroma of herbs and spices and meat. He took in the sight of all the dishes on the stove, his jaw dropping in awe and appreciation. Bucky felt nervous in a way he hadn't in a long time - not for recognition, or ambush, or compromise. No, he was hoping the Hans approved of the selection, approved of his skill. He stood to the side, watching as he appraised the selection in front of him. He realized a moment too late that his sleeve was still rolled up, exposing his prosthetic. He casually placed it behind his back, though likely the damage was made. He hoped to whatever deity was listening that he would be like Mika, simply accepting it as medical science. As long as no one saw the star on his shoulder, he should be safe.

"Bucky, you are a dream." he said, affectionately clapping him on the shoulder. Bucky was slightly startled by the contact, standing still until he let go. Hans seemed to sense his nerves, stepping back to give him some space. He stared at the stove with his hands on his hips and a grin on his face. "Are any of these ready to plate?"

"Yes, all of them." he replied, reaching for the plates from another shelf. He helped serve three of them, watching as Hans expertly arranged them on his arms to carry. Without any hesitation, he started towards the door. Bucky interrupted his process. "You aren't going to taste them?"

"No, I trust you." he replied, as if Bucky were silly for thinking otherwise. He exited the kitchen once again, leaving Bucky to continue his work. Strange, he thought, how easily Hans trusted him. And even stranger, he didn't seem to notice the metal arm. At least, he chose not to comment on it. The bell from the front chimed again, breaking his stream of thoughts. More people were here. And those people would need food. He moved his focus from the logistics of the pub back to the setup on the stove, increasing the tempo of his chopping and mixing as the bell up front continued to periodically alert him to customer after customer.

The rush slowed as the clock above the oven ticked closer to eight. Bucky found himself feeling hot, and tired, but very much accomplished. There was still food for roughly five or six people simmering on the stove top, and he hoped it would hold out. He leaned against the back counter, taking in the lull before the memory he couldn't make out earlier sparked back into existence. He was supposed to be at Mika's at eight o'clock tonight. They were supposed to start Lord of the Rings.

For the first time, he was truly appreciative for the phone in his pocket. He pulled it out, opening the text to his one contact and carefully keying his message. Running late. Helping your friend out. He pressed send, then realized he hadn't finished his thought. So that's why Mika always sent multiple messages. Will bring food.

The bell jingled one last time, and Bucky glanced through the window to see one person settle at a table. Good, so unless he was making a massive order for take out, the food he'd prepared would suffice. Sure enough, Hans poked through the door once more, asking for just one more plate. Bucky felt a sense of accomplishment as he handed over the meal, the clock moving past eight. He made it through, with no issues in sight. After Hans left, he took four to-go boxes from the pile, carefully packaging them and stacking them on the counter before tackling the pile of dishes in the sink. His phone sounded from his pocket (he still kept forgetting to ask how to change that), but he focused on finishing his work. It was nearly half-past when the last of it was put away, and Bucky washed his hands and wiped the counter. He wanted to leave the kitchen as spotless as he found it. He rolled his sleeves back down and slipped his glove on, and was just about to go out the back entrance when Hans came back in.

"You are a serious lifesaver - are those leftovers?" He was distracted by the to-go containers. Bucky hesitated, trying to figure out the correct answer based on his physical cues. But the man gave no tell, so he decided the truth would have to do.

"Yes. There was minimal extras, I thought I could take some home. Two are for you as well." he said. It was the whole truth; he figured since he cooked everything and Hans bought the components, they should split the excess down the middle. But the look on his face seemed confused, or upset. "I'm sorry, was I supposed to throw them out?"

"What? No, no, that'd be a waste." he replied, shaking his head. He laid out the containers, eyeing the contents of each. "I've just never had a cook pack up extras for me before. And clean the kitchen."

Did that mean there usually were not leftovers? Bucky cursed himself inwardly. He'd miscalculated. But how could he calculate correctly? This wasn't like the manual labor at the warehouse, where the numbers in the containers needed to match the numbers in the storage. No, there were many more variables at play here. It was exhausting. "I'm sorry, I didn't estimate accurately." he stated, trying to keep professional in his manner. He was getting used to socializing again - the past two weeks without his colleagues had slipped him back into his brief, cordial self. Hans waved him off.

"Please, are you kidding? You were absolutely clutch tonight. You shouldn't be apologizing. I-I should be apologizing." Hans rambled. He grimaced for a moment, though Bucky didn't understand why. Had he somehow wronged him? Bucky took a quick glance around, but nothing seemed amiss. Were authorities on the way there?

"Why do you need to apologize?" he asked lowly. His muscles tensed. He did not want to fight, but he would if he had to. But Hans shook his head again.

"I didn't mean to imply that you had to be perfect. You were really nice and helped me out when you didn't have to, and I am like, super grateful for it. I didn't mean to...I don't know. I'm out of words." he was flustered, clearly. Bucky almost felt bad for him, but was too busy trying to calm his racing heart to fully sympathize. Hans rubbed his eyes for a second before facing him again. He pushed two of the containers toward him, and placed an envelope on top. "Thank you, for your help. I owe you."

"Don't worry about it." Bucky said, collecting the containers and the envelope. Truth be told, he was happy to work again, even for just a few hours. He was going crazy, being left alone with his thoughts every night. "I'm glad to help."

"Speaking of that," Hans wrung his hands, nervous about whatever he was about to ask. He was a very nervous man, this one. He cleared his throat, trying to find his words. "Agatha texted. Turns out she's the kind of sick that doesn't end well, and she's rightly off to travel the world for a while. Would you...could you maybe fill in? I know this probably isn't the ideal job, but it'll just be for the short term. Until I find someone permanent. I'll pay you, I swear."

Bucky was stunned for a moment. Hans was offering him a job? It was temporary, but it was still a job. He took in the fatigue in his body, and his mind. He was actually going to be able to sleep tonight, thanks to this. Of course he would agree. "I can definitely do that."

"Oh my God, thank you. You are literally the best. Gah, I could kiss you." Hans said. Turns out he was easily excitable, as well as nervous. Bucky raised an eyebrow at his statement. A kiss would be highly unnecessary. And borderline unwelcome. Hans closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to hid from his chagrin. He continued, changing the subject. "Anyway, I've got to head back out there. I'll see you around, tell Mika hello for me." he said, backing up and going back into the main room with a wave. What an odd fellow. Bucky liked him. He took one last glance around the pub before slipping out the back door, carrying his food and his cash and walking back home. It wasn't as late as it normally was for his return trips, but he felt just as tired. Turns out mental work might be more exhausting than physical work.

It was nearing nine o'clock when he finally made it to the top floor of the building, and he was worried it was too late for Mika. He hesitated outside her door for just a breath before knocking. He was getting better at that. Mika's muffled footsteps sounded from behind the door, announcing her presence before she flung it open dramatically.

"Finally! I'm this close to starving to death." she whined, taking his hand and pulling him into the apartment. The affection still felt new, but it wasn't undesired. She bypassed her kitchen table and led him straight to the couch.

"Hardly." he replied, making her turn around and glare with her eyes narrowed. He felt the corners of his mouth try and quirk up, and dutifully kept them down.

"Is that a fat joke?" she asked, making him roll his eyes. Always such a drama queen. She tried her best to maintain her offended facade, but it was quickly and obviously breaking.

"Would I bring you food if I thought you were fat?" he asked, holding up the container. Her expression gave way to her excitement, and she held her hands out to make grabbing motions at it.

"No, because you're the best." she said, reaching for the box. He moved it just out of reach, making her happy face go back to the offended glare. This time he couldn't stop the smirk. She reached out quicker, and this time he let her grab it. She gave him a satisfied grin as she curled up on the couch with her prize. He chuckled lowly, putting his own food on the coffee table and going into her kitchen.

"I assume you'd like a fork?" he asked, pulling her drawer open and grabbing two utensils before she could answer.

"Thank you!" she sang, accepting it from him as he joined her on the couch. She popped open the tin and took a bite, her eyes widening in surprise. "Oh my God, this is amazing. This is from the pub?"

"Yes." Bucky said, and was content to leave it at that. No need to share any more information. Mika eyed his container as he opened it, spotting the different dish.

"Wait, what do you have there?" she asked, moving a little closer to see his food. He perked an eyebrow, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Her chin was practically resting on his shoulder, but he didn't move away.

"My supper." he said shortly. She tilted her head to the side, a challenge in her gaze. She stretched out with her fork, but he moved the container just out of reach. Her expression intensified, and she made another attempt at his food, but once again her fork only found air. She let out a frustrated noise, making him laugh lowly. "Use your words."

She cleared her throat, putting on an air of propriety. "Bucky, may I please try your supper?"

"No." he said instantly, taking a bite of his food. Her jaw dropped, and she changed her grip on her fork so she was brandishing it like a sword.

"Don't make me use my bird powers on you." she threatened, giving him a pointed look. Sure, a metal fork in the hands of a Red Room assassin might scare him, but with Mika it was just comical. He snatched the fork from her grip, surprising her. To make a point, he used it to take his next bite.

"You can't defeat my bear strength." he said, scolding her with her own utensil. She groaned, sending her eyes heavenward before looking back at him.

"Bucky, please." she whined childishly, the noise grating on his sensitive ears. He grimaced, holding the fork out to her in defeat.

"As long as you swear never to make that sound again." he said shortly, and she nodded in agreement before taking her fork back. He sighed as he held his container closer, allowing her to take a bite from it. She gave a satisfied hum, settling back against the cushions of the couch and returning to her own plate.

"This doesn't taste like anything Agatha's made before. Did Hans find a new cook or something? Were you taste testing this whole time without me?" she remarked, taking another bite of her own meal and making a borderline inappropriate noise at the taste. He felt an odd sense of pride, his chest warm behind his sternum at the fact that she thought his cooking tasted good. Well, there was no hiding it now. He couldn't lie to her when she asked such a direct question.

"No, I wouldn't dare." he replied, hoping she would leave his explanation at that. But of course she stared at him with those brown doe eyes, her expression expectant as she waited for him to continue. She didn't look away from him as she carefully brought another forkful of food to her mouth. He cleared his throat and looked down before saying, "Actually, I made it." He kept his gaze on his food instead of her.

"What?!" she exclaimed. "Bucky, this is amazing!"

"Thank you." he said. The back of his neck felt warm, and he had to stop himself from rubbing it nervously with his hand. She hummed a happy little jingle, digging further into her food.

"Can this be our new movie night tradition? Cause seriously, this is really good. I'll buy the stuff and everything if you cook it." she said, gesturing at her plate with her fork.

"I'll think about it." he replied. He didn't want to promise anything; it was easier to agree to pizza. But perhaps he could take it into consideration. "Speaking of, are you ever going to start this movie night?"

"Oh, right! But I wanna hear all about your night afterwards." she said, uncurling and sadly putting her fork down for a moment to turn on the television and pull up the movie. It was quite a bit later than they usually started, but it shouldn't matter. He stayed up most of the night almost every night. This one should be no different, although he was remarkably more fatigued than usual. Fellowship of the Ring was a little difficult for him to follow at times, but it was quite epic compared to most of the movies they watched. He rather liked the action and adventure when there were no guns or looming threats of torture in the background.

An hour into the movie, Mika was very still, curled up next to him on the couch. She was sitting a little closer than usual, but not too close that he felt crowded. She was easing into this "affection" thing with him, and he appreciated it. He found he still didn't mind it. Sometime around the Council of Elrond, he glanced over to find that she was fast asleep, her head precariously perched on the back cushion. He looked back at the television, then back to her; was it him, or was her head a little more off the edge? Another peek at the movie, then back to her. Yes, she was definitely slowly falling off. Should he wake her up? That could make her head fall off the cushion as well. But if he did nothing, then her head would certainly fall off the cushion and wake her up. She was visibly slipping now, and at the last moment he made his decision, putting his hand up and catching her face softly.

Well now he'd really done it. What was he supposed to do, sit here with her head in his hand until she woke up? Wake her up himself? He really wanted to watch the movie. Frodo was going to take the ring to Mordor, shit was probably about to hit the fan. Mika was now leaning rather heavily into his hand. She was a deep sleeper, that was for sure. He looked from the screen to his situation, trying to take in both at the same time. With a sigh, he scooted closer to her, lowering her until her head was resting on his leg. Somehow, she managed to stay asleep the whole time, adjusting her position slightly and heaving a content sigh as she slumbered. There, problem solved. Sure, this was a pretty intense form of physical contact (to him), but he knew there was a ninety-two percent chance that Mika would not be bothered by it. She stayed blissfully unaware of the move, and he was able to settle into the comfortable cushions and watch the film. He lowered the volume so as to not wake her, the plush cushions surrounding him. He was very comfortable, and very tired. After the movie ended, he would head straight to bed.

Mika didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until she was waking up. She didn't want to wake up. She was tired, and she was very comfortable, and her pillow was nice and warm.

Wait a minute.

She opened her eyes to find herself in her dimly lit living room. Not an unusual view; she'd fallen asleep on her couch many times before. What was unusual was the sight of - was that a leg that she was resting on? In front of the leg, the television proudly displayed the home screen, meaning the movie finished. Wow, so she'd been asleep at least a couple of hours. Her pillow (the leg) twitched a little, waking her up further. She pushed herself up, turning to see Bucky still sitting on her couch, head resting on his metal hand. He was fast asleep, mumbling quietly. It was too low for her to make out exactly what he was saying, but she thought he was speaking in English. After a moment he sighed deeply, and his face relaxed. He looked much younger then. She'd always assumed he was in his mid-thirties, but here he looked closer to her age. Not that she would be under thirty for much longer. She stretched before reaching for one of her blankets, carefully pulling it over his lap. She thought she was being sneaky, but as she was covering him his eyes snapped open, his hand shooting out to grab her wrist. His breaths were quick and nervous as his eyes scanned around him.

"It's okay, it's me." she said softly, sleep still thick in her throat. His breathing slowed as he focused on her, his hand releasing her wrist. He was blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear his vision.

"I'm sorry." he said. His voice was much deeper than usual; it seemed he had been deep asleep as well. She waved him off before he could apologize any further.

"You're fine. I think I fell asleep on you." she replied. He looked like he was about to jump up and run, but was holding himself back. She hoped he didn't feel bad for spending the night, because it really wasn't a big deal. Plenty of male friends had crashed on her couch before, and she was even comfortable with a few of them sharing her bed. But Bucky looked decidedly uncomfortable, as he did with most new situations.

"What time is it?" he asked, clearing his throat. The gesture didn't help, his voice was still extra gravelly. Mika grabbed her phone from the table, pressing the home button so the screen lit up. She had a couple messages from Elena and one from Hans, but she was more concerned with the large numbers at the top.

"Nearly six. Want some coffee?" she asked, unfolding herself from the couch and walking over to the kitchen. She watched from the coffee maker as he stood up, taking one step toward the door before spotting the food containers from last night. He picked them up and carefully deposited them in the trash can. She smiled; little things like that were happening more often.

"No, thank you, I don't want to intrude any longer." he replied, adjusting his baseball cap. She laughed, pulling out the floral mug that she always gave him.

"You're not intruding. You still need to tell me about your adventure cooking at the pub last night. Come on, it's rude to run out on a girl after you spend the night with her." she pointed out as the coffee maker filled the cup. She smiled at her little joke, and even Bucky couldn't stop a grin from ghosting across his face.

"I suppose it is." he said, sitting down at the barstool and gratefully accepting the cup from her. She put some bread in the toaster and pulled out her condiments, sliding them onto the island. Bucky held his hands up.

"You don't have to-" he started to say, but she silenced him with a glare.

"It's breakfast, Bucky. You brought supper, it's the least I can do." she said, fixing her own cup of coffee.

"I intruded on your night, I believe it's I who owes you something." he replied, making her roll her eyes. The bread popped up from the toaster, and she put it on a plate before handing it to him.

"You're entirely too polite for your own good, you know that?" she said, adding more bread to the toaster. He chuckled, once again looking like he was laughing at a joke that didn't include her.

"I don't think I've ever been told that." he answered, finally giving in a smearing butter over his toast. This time, he got a little more adventurous, putting some plum jam as well. Mika smiled, waiting for her own breakfast before coming and sitting on the kitchen island next to him.

"So. Tell me about your night." she said. She was genuinely curious. Of all the things she could see Bucky doing, pub cook was not at the top of her list. But it was clear he'd been getting a lot of practice next door, and he was very, very good at it.

"I think I have a new job." he replied, taking a sip of his coffee before telling the story. He wasn't nervous anymore from earlier, now he was at ease. Every day he was a little more at ease whenever they hung out. She felt a rush for affection for him as he smiled during his story, for once not seeming shy about his words. She quickly checked her phone after he finished, opening the message from Hans. She figured it might provide more insight to the story. She had to stop herself from laughing, knowing that it would likely make Bucky uncomfortable.

I'm in love with your neighbor and you should be too.

Thank you so so so much everyone for your wonderful responses to this story! I love hearing all of your thoughts, they literally fuel me. Lots of fun stuff happened in this chapter, so I hope y'all liked it. Let me know!

-XM