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Bucky stood in his usual corner at the end of the bar, watching quietly as the few remaining patrons finished their final rounds and closed out their tabs. The night had been average, not exactly dead, but not close to busy either, and time was dragging. He was ready for the night to be over.
A loud scraping noise, followed by clattering metal caught Bucky’s attention, and looked up to find that a guest at the Bar, a regular named Dave, had tripped and nearly knocked a couple stools over as he stood to leave. Bucky tensed up as he watched, frowning as Dave stumbled a bit as he fixed the stool and caught his balance.
“You sure you good, man?” Jessica asked, another regular who had been chatting with Dave.
“Yeah, just tripped,” Dave quickly explained.
Bucky continued to watch, noticing that Dave was swaying as he put on his jacket, and grabbed onto the back of a stool while he dug through his pockets to find his keys.
“What are you looking for?” Jessica questioned as she stood and put on her own jacket.
“Can’t find the keys to my truck,” Dave slurred, staring across the bar as he continued to search his pockets.
“Good thing you live close enough to walk home,” Jessica stated. “Find ‘em tomorrow.” She gave a quick wave, and walked out of the bar, heading home.
Bucky moved down the bar toward Dave, getting Dugans attention as he went and nodding toward Dave. Dugan looked up at Dave with a slight frown, and nodded back at Bucky, confirming that he had his back.
“Hey, Man,” Bucky greeted, standing next to Dave. “I think Jess is right, worry about the truck tomorrow and just walk home tonight.”
Dave just scoffed, crossing his arms and glaring at Bucky.
“Relax, buddy,” Dave said, “I think I know when I’m good to drive better than you, and I’m fine.” He was slurring his words slightly, dragging out the m’s and n’s, and Bucky noticed that he seemed to be putting a lot of effort into not swaying as he stood. He finally produced his keys, much to Bucky’s disappointment, and held them up in Bucky’s face. “Besides, problem solved,” he announced triumphantly.
“Yeah, I don’t think I like that idea,” Bucky countered. “I would suggest you start walking, and don’t even think about getting into the truck tonight. Or call an Uber if you can’t handle the 5 blocks.”
Dave puffed up and leaned into Bucky’s space, breath reeking of whisky.
“Look, Buddy.” he threatened. “I’m taking my truck home tonight, and you can’t stop me. I don’t get why you’re making such a big deal about this anyway.”
Bucky took a deep breath, glancing over his shoulder and feeling relieved to see that Dugan had come closer.
“Such a big deal?” Bucky said with a tense laugh, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t know, maybe because I want to make sure everyone gets home safe, and that no one is taking any unnecessary risks. Maybe I just want to make sure someones good time doesn’t ruin another person's life.”
“Whoa, dude,” Dave said defensively, backing up a half step. “Relax, it’s not like it will affect you at all.”
“You, probably not.” Bucky agreed. “But that other guy a few years ago, who had a few too many and drove home anyway? He’s still messing up my life, and If I can make sure someone else's life doesn’t get ruined by you tonight, I’m sure as hell gonna do it.”
Dugan stepped further closer, standing shoulder to shoulder with Bucky, and held out his hand to Dave. “Keys,” he said, “or I call Sargent Fury at the police precinct and give him a heads up. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to send out one of his boys to meet you on your way home.”
Dave stood defiantly, looking back and forth between Bucky and Dugan like he didn’t fully believe them.
“So when a giant pick up truck, being driven by a drunk guy, runs a red light and t-bones the drivers side of a Honda Civic, the guy in the Honda doesn’t exactly walk away,” Bucky stated. He glared at Dave as he spoke, gesturing to his left side. “Shattered left arm, collapsed lung, multiple stab wounds from metal and glass shards, brain damage, memory loss, coma… Do I need to go on? Or are you understanding now why this is a big deal to me.”
Dave dropped his head and took a step back, handing the keys over to Dugan.
“We open at a 11 tomorrow,” Dugan told him, and Dave just nodded and walked out of the restaurant without another word.
Bucky stood stiffly, staring as Dave left the restaurant, and then abruptly turned and went down the hall to his office, kicking the door shut as he entered, and dropped heavily into his desk chair. He had no idea how long he sat there staring at the wall when there was a knock at the door.
“Yeah,” Bucky called out, hoping there wasn’t another problem in the restaurant, and was relieved to see Steve open the door instead of a member of his staff.
“Hey, babe,” Steve greeted as he entered, pulling messenger bag off over his head and dropping it on the floor before moving toward Bucky.
“You hear all that?” Bucky asked, looking up at Steve.
“Yeah,” Steve said with a nod, “walked in right as you were confronting him.” He reached out and rested a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, rubbing soothing circles at the base of his neck with his thumb. “You okay?”
Bucky nodded unconvincingly and reached out to grab Steve’s arm, pulling him down into his lap. Steve went willingly, sitting sideways across Bucky’s legs and pulled him into a tight hug. Bucky leaned in, burying his face into Steve’s neck and shoulder with a long sigh, and began to quietly cry as Steve held him tight, stroking his hair and peppering his head with kisses. Several minutes later, Bucky lifted his head, eyes red and looked up at Steve for a long, slow kiss.
Bucky pulled away with a sigh, and sat up slightly, gaze directed across the room.
“Hopefully everyone is gone by now, so I should be ready to go in 20 minutes, 30 tops,” Bucky explained as Steve got out of his lap. “Thanks,” he said softly as he stood.
Steve nodded with a smile, and followed him back out to the dining room, and sat at his usual stool at the corner sketching until Bucky finished closing down the registers and they walked home together.