Bucky entered the apartment to find Sam sitting at the barstools, obviously waiting for him. Bucky wanted to wipe the smug look off of his face.
He was currently feeling a wide variety and range of emotions. He wanted to thank Sam for leaving him behind, and alone, with Ella. He wanted to smack him upside the head for the exact same reason. He wanted to curl up and die of embarrassment.
He also felt light and carefree. He felt excited about the possibilities. But with that excitement came fear as well. The unknown of having coffee with her the next day scared him the most. He hadn't been on a proper date since 1943. If that was even what this was.
Sam broke him out of his thoughts.
"So, how'd it go?" Sam asked smoothly, batting his eyelashes in a mocking way.
Once again, Bucky wanted to wipe that smug smile from Sam's face. So, he did.
"She thinks you're an asshole. And she told me to tell you that."
That indeed had its desired effect. Sam was no longer smiling. His expression had changed into something Bucky was even more concerned with: utter intrigue.
"You know, you should be thanking me. So, what else did you two talk about? Did you finally get Miss Mysterious's name?"
Bucky seethed and wanted to withhold the information purely out of spite.
"Thanking you for what, exactly?!"
"For giving you the opportunity for you to take. Now, tell me what happened!"
Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"Fuck, you're worse than a teenager."
"I'm a grown-ass man. Who just happens to be interested in your sordid affairs."
"To me boy, you're just a teenager. And I wouldn't call this a sordid affair."
Sam just glared at him. Like he had been denied a treat and then insulted on top of it.
Probably because of the teenager comment. It was true, though. In comparison, Sam really was just a kid compared to Bucky when it came to actual age. Then it occurred to him that the same could be said about him and Ella. He shook that awareness off quickly. Bucky decided to distract himself from that thought and throw the guy a bone.
"We talked about why she liked the park so much. Why we usually see her there and how long she's been using those tables."
Bucky smirked when he saw the irritated look that crossed Sam's face.
"So, you're telling me you didn't even get her name? For someone who claims to still have game you sure do not act like it."
"Oh, I got her name. And I am also taking her out for coffee tomorrow morning."
Bucky leaned back against the doorframe and reveled in the look on Sam's face. He believed they called it a 'Kodak Moment'.
Sam immediately changed gears. And got really, really loud and animated.
"Now there's the ladies' man I have heard so much about! Man, even after almost a century, you still got it! Seems like you may have not lost your touch or your game like I thought you had. Now spill it. What's her name?"
Bucky sighed heavily as he pushed off the doorframe and went to head back to his room.
"Her name is Ella."
Sam said a few more things as Bucky walked away and down the hallway, but he wasn't listening. He was too consumed with his own thoughts to entertain Sam's energetic, and frankly inappropriate, dialog at the moment.
That night Bucky was still ruminating over everything. And by everything, he was absolutely obsessing over everything that could have anything to do with Ella or the coffee shop the next morning.
Bucky hated to admit it, but there was something that Sam was right about: He hadn't been on a date in almost a century. Yes, Sam had set him up on a few dates with some of his friends, but he never really thought those counted. He wasn't truly interested, until now.
He was having a hard enough time fitting into this modern world; he had never really given a modern woman any thought. What if they had nothing in common? Bucky was from a completely different time than she was. He probably had more in common with her grandfather than anything.
That thought sent a sick chill down his spine. He hoped that Sam would never call him a cradle robber.
On the other hand, what if she asked too many questions? Or the wrong ones? She was bound to ask him about himself. He couldn't exactly say 'Oh, yeah. I was a Nazi/Soviet super-soldier experiment. I was used as the world's number one assassin since World War II. But now I am currently running top-secret missions for a faction of the government that everyone thinks doesn't exist anymore. And my partner has bionic wings like I have a bionic arm.'
Yeah, that would go over well.
Bucky spent a good portion of the afternoon and evening thinking of what to say and ask. He also thought about what to avoid and what to say should something sensitive be asked. He planned out what he would do or say if they found themselves in problematic conversational territory.
At one point, later in the evening, he even tried to enlist Sam's help. He did help, a bit. But he mostly continued to taunt Bucky every chance he got. Much to Bucky's dismay and Sam's gleeful pleasure.
Time seemed to move unnaturally quickly. The next morning dawned bright and early, and entirely too soon in Bucky's opinion.
He awoke earlier than usual. Considering what his usual was, that surprised even him. Even though he had had trouble sleeping the night before. Between his mind racing, not letting him get close to sleep, and his usual nightmares, it was a rough night.
It was not uncommon for him to get only a few hours of sleep anyway. So, he began his day and tried not to think about what was in store for him later that morning.
Today there would be no training session, just a light workout. The apartment building that Sam and Bucky lived in was owned by SHIELD. Every apartment was filled with employees or agents of some kind. It also had a mini version of their gym from HQ in the basement. That was where Bucky was headed to blow off some steam and pass the time.
After a few hours of vigorous exercise, he went back up to the apartment only to find Sam at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal.
Sam gave him a wry smile at the sight of him.
"Mornin' Sleeping Beauty. You ready for the possibilities today might bring you?"
Bucky just scoffed and headed to his room.
"You know, no day is complete without breakfast. You should really eat something, Buck!" Sam called after him.
Bucky was beginning to get annoyed with himself for letting Sam get into the habit of calling him 'Buck'.
"No thanks, Sammy. I'm not hungry." Bucky called over his shoulder. He succeeded in getting a glimpse of Sam's face at the new nickname. By his reaction, Bucky knew he would be using it from now on.
Bucky showered and put on a light shirt and a pair of sweatpants. It was still way too early to start getting ready. He still had more than two hours to kill before he was to meet Ella.
He tried a few different things to pass the time. From writing in the journal Fitzpatrick had given him. To reorganizing his bookshelf. After trying to read at least half a dozen different books and failing to even taken in a single paragraph in each, he decided to get ready.
He was intent on leaving early and walking, it wouldn't take more than five minutes. It was starting to get pretty cool outside so he dressed in a plain white t-shirt, a long-sleeved flannel shirt, a pair of jeans, and of course, his required leather gloves.
The only time he did not wear long sleeves and gloves was on assignments and missions.
Bucky was thankful that the weather was changing and the nights were getting colder. He could easily get away with his usual dress code out in public at these times. Even inside.
When the time came Sam was on the couch reading the paper, which struck Bucky as odd and entirely staged.
"Don't scare her away, whatever you do." Sam jibed from over his newspaper.
"Don't worry, Sammy. I won't tell her about how you sing in the shower, and relatively terribly I might add."
With one last look at Sam's disgruntled expression, he was out the door.