James 'Bucky' Barnes sped along the busy city street on his motorcycle. It was a bright spring afternoon, and he felt alright. Mostly anyway. His therapy session that morning had been a heavy one, tough truths and intense revelations. He was trying to 'do the work' as he kept being told, but exposing the fragile parts of yourself was never easy. Particularly when you're so used to suppressing and avoiding your pain. But hey, the sun was out at least.
The therapy was no longer mandated but he had chosen to continue with a different therapist. As much as he found it excruciating, he couldn't deny it had helped. Twice a week for now, just to keep things ticking over.
As he drew nearer to his apartment he pulled up to a set of traffic lights. Momentarily letting his mind wander, wondering if he should get himself out of the apartment tonight, or stay in like he really wanted. Despite being in a better place than he had been a few months ago, and feeling like an extended member of Sam's family, he found building his own life back in Brooklyn was proving tough. He still had a little ways to go.
At that same moment, mere feet away, thirty two year old Francesca Butterfield strolled to work for the late shift. Well, Frankie strolled to work. Nobody called her Francesca except her late dad, Frank (Frankie senior, Big Frankie to his friends). She was just Frankie to her friends and Frankie to her enemies. And that suited her just fine.
Frankie was in a good mood. She managed the family business now her beloved dad had passed and work was booming. Busy. Clients liked what she did, she had a great small team and they got a lot of new business from word of mouth. The sun was shining today too which always brightened her up. And she'd secured a date with a cute guy she'd been talking to on a dating app for a couple of weeks. Life was good! Her black bob bounced as she walked, gently humming along to Lizzo on her earbuds.
Turning to cross the street she saw the pedestrian light was about to switch from green to red so she zipped across in the final seconds before it did. Suddenly she heard the squeal of brakes on tarmac and she froze instinctively, realising she'd very nearly been hit by a motorcycle. In shock, she leapt onto the curb and gazed at the perpetrator in horror. 'What the FUCK dude' she yelled. 'The light for you was red? The pedestrian sign was green! Are you blind?! You could've killed me'.
The would-be assailant, dressed head to toe in leather, pulled over to the curb. She was surprised to find an attractive 30-something man sitting behind the handlebars. He was tall, well-built, neatly styled dark hair, strong jawed and with piercing sky blue eyes which bore into her. There was an intensity to him too which she couldn't put her finger on. In any other circumstances she'd likely be gooey eyed, but for now she was too angry.
'Are you alright?' the man said solemnly, his voice low and gruff. He looked both concerned and annoyed, but his voice contained no emotion. His scowl heavy on his face. If the near miss had scared him, he certainly wasn't showing it. 'Look, my light was green, not red. You must've stepped out as it changed. But no harm done, I'm glad you're OK'.
Bucky looked the angry woman up and down. She was furious, he could see the rage burning in her eyes. But he was sure the light was green when he'd set off. She appeared out of nowhere. Really she was lucky he had the reflexes to stop as quickly as he did, but he didn't tell her that.
She was dressed...scruffily. Baggy tracksuit pants and a scruffy T-shirt with beat up old work boots. Didn't appear to be wearing any make up, or not much if she was. But she wasn't plain by any means, with big brown eyes which were full of life (or maybe just full blown anger). Her hair was very dark in a shaggy bob style which complimented her soft features. A slightly upturned nose, but he found it strangely charming. He assumed she normally had full pouty lips too, but it was hard to tell currently as they were pulled into a snarl.
He could tell she was quite curvy but he couldn't really make out her figure under her baggy clothes. Worked somewhere messy maybe? Or just didn't give a shit? Hard to say. None of his business either way.
'Don't patronise me' she warned. 'The light was red still. You cut through a red light and nearly hit me. Just be more careful.'
Bucky shrugged. 'OK, if that's what you believe happened, then that's what happened.' He paused, watching her seethe. 'I wasn't even going that fast. But I promise to be more careful regardless'. He shot her a sickly sweet fake smile.
The fact that he wasn't vaguely phased by any of this and hadn't apologised just made Frankie even angrier. She tried to calm herself down, she was in a great mood just minutes ago - she didn't want this jerk-off to ruin it.
'Whatever. Also your bike was making a weird noise. You should get it checked out, sounds like an engine problem' she shot back.
He chuckled. 'Uh huh? Is that so?'
She nodded firmly. 'Yep. Trust me. Take it to the shop as soon as you can.'
He shot her his fake smile again. 'Great advice once again, thank-you. Pleasure meeting you. Have a great day.'
'Oh you too! Try not to nearly kill anyone else today!' she replied shrilly. Turning on her heel she shot off down the street muttering to herself about what an asshole he was.
Bucky rolled his eyes and started up his bike. It sounded fine to him, she just wanted something to yell about. Whatever. And little did she know not managing to not kill or maim people was actually an achievement for him. So the day was a win.
*
Just mere minutes later, Bucky stood staring at his bike. It has broken down just moments ago, practically a few feet from his apartment, and he couldn't get it to start now. He knew a fair few things about bikes, but this had stumped him. He knew he would need to open everything up and take it apart. The thought made him weary. Maybe having a project would be a good thing, to keep his mind distracted and do something worthwhile. In the past if something went wrong like this his handlers or the Avengers' extended crew or whoever would've sorted it for him. But now he felt a bit useless by himself, annoyed that he didn't know what to do.
He thought about the angry attractive woman telling him something was wrong with the bike. Has she somehow cursed him? Was she a witch? Nothing was impossible these days.
He considered texting Sam asking if he had any mechanic contacts in the city but as luck would have it a stranger stopped by and watched him try to start up the engine.
'Oh bummer dude' said the stranger, a youngish skater looking guy with floppy hair and baggy pants. 'That's a sweet ride. Is she all fucked up, man?
Bucky sighed and tried to rev it again. 'Yeah, I guess. I think it's the engine. I can't get it started. And I've tried bump starting.'
The skater guy nodded. 'Bummer. You should take it to Frankie's Garage. Not too far from here, and they're the best, man. My buddies take their bikes there and Frankie fixes 'em up no problem. Not too expensive either if you're a broke dude like me!' he laughed.
Bucky returned a small smile. 'Thanks for the tip. I think it might need a pro, yeah. Where is this place exactly?'
'About three blocks man, go left and then right then left again, can't miss it. I guess you'll need a tow or something to get it there though.'
'I can handle it, thanks' replied Bucky.
The skater's eyes widened in shock as Bucky grabbed the bike with one hand and began to lug it down the street like a briefcase. 'Uh yeah...you're welcome bro'.
*
Bucky and the bike made it to Frankie's Garage shortly after.
The shop was nice. It had retro feel. Well he thought it was, it's hard to define that when you yourself are retro too. It had a large sign with big red text in a handwriting style - Frankie's, since 1974, it looked a bit like the mechanic shops he'd seen in older movies (new movies to him). Welcoming. The shop's front shutters were open so you could see a bunch of mechanics working on cars. Tools everywhere, pop music blasting from tinny speakers. A little parking lot round the back. Really, he should be sorting this himself, but he thought about this being another step forward into the real world again - people's vehicles break down, they take them to be fixed. He is people.
Bucky walked in still gripping the bike and was greeted by an older tall, skinny man in navy mechanic overalls. He had a white patch embroidered with 'Frankie's' on the lapel.
'Hey there Sir, welcome to Frankie's Garage. Cool bike. How can I help you today?'.
'Thanks. I'm having a problem with the engine and can't get it started. Hoping you guys can fix it'.
The man nodded warmly. 'I'm sure we can get her back on the road for ya in no time.' He looked at the bike still nestled under Bucky's arm. 'Wait did you...drag it here?'.
Bucky nodded. 'Yeah I uh...rolled it in. I wasn't too far from here'.
'Oh right. Mister, that must've been hard work! You should've called us, we could've towed it for you'.
Bucky shrugged. 'That's alright, I managed. Do you think you could have a look to see what the problem is, and what fixing it might set me back?'.
The man attempted starting it up and Bucky took him through what had happened and what he'd tried. The man nodded along intently. 'Mmhm. Yep sounds like the engine alright. Battery seems fine. Let me get you our bike expert, hold on - Freddie?' he called out to a young man leaning under a car hood nearby.
'Yep?' replied Freddie, looking up from the hood. He was short statured wearing a cap. Bucky momentarily wondered if he was even old enough to hold a wrench. Freddie turned to look at them.
'Can you go get Frankie? We got a gentleman with a bike problem here' said the tall man.
Freddie nodded 'Sure, one sec-'.
Freddie trailed off when he turned to look at Bucky. It was very fleeting, but Bucky swore he could see a moment of panic in Freddie's wide eyes when he clocked him. Did he recognise him? Or was Bucky just paranoid these days?
Freddie seemed to snap back out of it it as quickly as it happened '-uh yeah one minute. Hold on'. He smiled weakly at Bucky and disappeared to the back of the shop.
Bucky turned to the tall man. 'I thought you were Frankie?'
The man laughed heartily and slapped his thigh at that. 'Ha! Me? I'm afraid not mister. Frankie is a lot prettier than me I'm sorry to say. I'm Dan.'
'Oh, Frankie is a woman?' He said, a hint of surprise in his voice.
'Yes sir. Well, Francesca. But nobody calls her that. The business was her daddy's - Frankie senior. Big Frankie we called him. Great fella, sadly passed on a few years back. But Little Frankie is just as passionate about the job as her daddy was. Not afraid to get her hands dirty yknow? Loves bikes too. Knows everything about them. She'll fix your gal up in no time.'
Bucky nodded, he hadn't realised Dan was so chatty. 'Great'.
He wasn't too surprised by a woman being in charge really, after all it was the twenty first century now - and in the war all the women had pitched in. And he'd lived in Wakanda. He didn't judge anyone by their gender. He was just surprised, he didn't know many women who run mechanic businesses and go by their father's name. But then he didn't really know many women.
Dan continued. 'Just a heads up though. She can be a bit fiery! Why today she was in an awful mood when she came in because some jerk nearly hit her at a crossing. On a bike no less!' he laughed, tapping the bike. 'Oh yep. She was furious. But she's a softie once you get to know her.'
'Ah', replied Bucky. He groaned internally.
Suddenly the work boots and the scruffy clothes made sense. And recognising the bike noise, of course.