https://archiveofourown.org/works/16834720Just uploaded this one yesterday, if anyone is out there to appreciate it.
Excerpt:
Bucky hurried out the door, dodging his chatty neighbor before she could fill his ear about her cat’s latest shenanigans. He stumbled a little as he reached the stair landing and jarred his ankle that he’d previously sprained in high school, making it throb freshly and limp a little toward his apartment building’s front door.
“Careful there, Twinkle Toes!” Of course that was Brock. Dick. He waved cheerfully at Bucky as he locked up his apartment, looking all smug in his mechanic’s coveralls. Brock made twice what Bucky did and he never had to iron his work clothes. Bucky hated him just on principle.
“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky muttered.
“Have a nice trip?”
“Only one I can afford on my salary.”
“Bet you majored in an artsy field, huh?”
“Later, man.”
And he was off. The sky overhead was saved from complete gloom by sparse patches of blue sky, but the weather report promised sleet later that afternoon. Bucky dodged graying clumps of dirty snow and icy puddles, weaving through foot traffic on his way to the subway. He sipped his coffee and grimaced; it was wretched without milk.
Bucky made it through the crowd, pushing his way through the turnstile and grabbing his fare card, which cheerfully informed him was worth about three cents when he extracted it from the slot. The other passengers jostled him in a slow-moving tide of winter coats and briefcases as he rode the escalator downstairs to the platform. Bucky caught the train as it filled to capacity and ended up sharing a pole with a girl who blasted Taylor Swift through her earbuds and whose leather jacket covered with tiny studs and spikes kept poking against him every time the car went around a sharp turn on the track. She smirked up at him and cracked her cinnamon gum in his face, completely unfazed. Bucky gave her a bland smile, inwardly wishing for a place to hide. The universe laughed at him.
The air above the street tasted like engine exhaust and freedom. Bucky’s work building loomed six blocks ahead, ten stories of mirror-bright glass and concrete. Bucky’s heel skidded a little on a slick patch of pavement; he needed to get the shoe re-heeled or toss them into the thrift bag soon. Neither option appealed to him; they were his favorite pair of work shoes.
Bucky waited at the crosswalk through a long green light, sipping at his unsatisfactory coffee. His stomach churned a little, complaining at the injection of acidic, caffeinated liquid while it was still empty. Bucky knew he still had a crumbling Pop Tart hidden in a cupboard in the work break room with his name Sharpie’d on the side waiting for him if he could just get there -
The wave of icy water splashed up loudly and drenched his shoes and pants cuffs, and Bucky swore and rocked back on his heels. The tiny blue hybrid coupe didn’t slow down or even acknowledge him as he blew through the intersection. Bucky glared after him and flipped him the bird.
Bucky’s pants legs clung to his ankles as he entered the elevator, already done with that day. Scott rushed into it with him before the doors could close and grinned at him, punching the button for the fourth floor. He clapped Bucky on the shoulder. “Happy Monday,” he announced.
“Isn’t that overstating things a little?”
“Already havin’ one of those days, huh?”
“Waking up was a little too ambitious this morning.”
“You made it. You showed up. Give yourself a pat on the back. Hey, what time’s that interview you’re having today again?”
“Nine-fifteen.”
“Shit. How far across town is it again?”
“Luckily just a few blocks. Gives me just enough time to check my emails and dry off.” Scott looked confused until Bucky gestured down to his pants.
“Aw, dude. That sucks.”
“My feet feel like ice cubes.”
“It’ll get better. Hey, good luck.” Scott clapped his shoulder in his brief, warm grip and got off on his own floor while Bucky rode up the rest of the way to seventh. When the doors opened, though, Bucky sighed at the sight of the yellow tape cordoning off the corridor leading to his cubicle. “Floors Being Waxed. Take Back Hallway.” Because of course. Bucky hit the button for floor six, exited and made his way toward the side stairwell, which would at least bring him to the other side of the main processing floor. The stairwell felt drafty, and Bucky juggled his lunch container, carrier bag as the strap kept slipping down from his shoulder, and his coffee cup as he tugged himself up by the stair railing.
By the time he finally set everything down at his desk, he was three minutes late clocking in. Tony stopped by his doorway and knocked on the frame of the cubicle wall to get his attention.
“Don’t forget the staff meeting in the west conference room.”
Bucky’s Pop Tart would have to wait. “Sure. Be there in a sec.”
Which meant that there was a handout that Bucky would have to print in his email first, and this day just kept getting better and better. Bucky found the message with attachments and printed the agenda and handouts, only to find that they’d been scooped up at the multifunction laser jet.
“Anyone have my printouts?” he called around futilely.
A few of his coworkers shook their heads, and Bucky fumed as he went back to print them again. “Why, Lord?” His tone was low enough and bleak enough that no one else answered him. But the universe still wasn’t finished with Bucky.
As Bucky strode back toward the printer, a tall, sandy blond in rumpled khakis and a purple argyle sweater backed out of his cubicle, and before Bucky could avoid him, he spun around and crashed into Bucky. This time, hot liquid splashed down Bucky’s chest, drenching his buttondown.
“Fuck... aw, cocoa, no!” he cried out as the faulty plastic lid flipped off of his cup and landed on the floor. Bucky stumbled back, holding his now-damp copies out from his body. He gave him a look of disbelief.
“Seriously?!”
“Buddy, I’m so sorry! Aw, that shirt looked nice! Shoot. Shoot, shoot, shoot… let me help you. I’ll fix this. God, this morning isn’t panning out how I planned it.”
“Buddy, you’re preaching to the choir.”
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