Bucky - The Hot Barista

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Picture isn't mine! Credits to the owner :)

A/N: It's been a while and I'm really sorry. School's had me beat since the first day it started, and I'm still adjusting to everything in the new school year. Thanks for sticking with me!

Also this is my way of procrastinating lmao I have a mechanics test tomorrow yet here I am :')

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Coffee shop AU because I'm an absolute slut for those


Life doesn't really start when he's not at work.

Bucky prances across the quiet coffee store. He looks around to make sure no one's in the cafe yet, as it's an ungodly hour for anyone to be in the shop, let alone wake up. Or maybe not, Bucky thinks to himself. He knows how long it took him to get used to the sleeping schedule in his army days, though. 

Five in the morning isn't exactly early for Bucky. He likes starting off his morning right (of course, with a cup of dark, unsweetened coffee), jogging to work and making sure that every single table in the small cafe is shined through before anyone comes in.

He tries his best to look his standard of presentable, making sure that he wears long-sleeved shirts to cover up his scars and metal arm. He thankfully hasn't come across anyone rude (or brave? Bucky can't tell the difference anymore) enough to ask, but he's certainly not interested in entertaining their questions if they do.

He silently knocks on the wooden counter as he whistles a tune. Bucky's not superstitious, but honestly? He will knock on wood to avoid jinxing himself. He just can't risk anything.

He almost trips over his feet when he hears someone coming in, pulling him out of his daze.

"Hi, uh..." he hears you say awkwardly. He scans you up and down. Seeing your raincoat dripping wet on the floors he's just mopped, he bites back a loud sigh.

"Take a seat, I'll take care of it," he says with a forced smile. Dealing with people in the extremely early morning isn't exactly his forte, and he wishes he'd stay home for longer today.

"Sorry," you say.

He brushes you off with a smile, a more genuine one this time. He picks up the mop from the backroom and starts cleaning up.

You can't help but stare. With his hair up in a small man-bun, his white shirt tucked somewhat neatly in his pants, he looks almost too presentable in the morning. You shake your head. You came here to get some coffee for a road trip with your friends, not to ogle at the hot barista doing chores in front of you.

Though, after last night's chaos and loudness, you feel relieved that it's only the two of you in the room. Parties aren't exactly fun when people get too drunk.

"Can I help you?" the barista asks, noticing how intensely you were staring at him just a few moments ago.

"Um, no?" You mentally slap yourself. That's even creepier! "Yes! I mean, um, yes. Please." At this very second, you wish you could disappear. But then again, if you disappeared, you wouldn't be able to see the hot barista anymore.

"What would you like?" he asks casually, walking behind the counter as you follow him. "Sorry, this is staff only."

Definitely disappear. Disappearing would save you from making more of a fool out of yourself. "Sorry! Um," you pause, pretending to be deep in thought as you look up at the menu. "Can I get four iced lattes, please?" Finally! A coherent sentence!

"Comin' right up," the hot barista (his name is Bucky, you read from the tag on his shirt) says, not once losing his cool when he does the whole fancy coffee grinding and brewing business. How does he do that?

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