"What do you do all day?"
"Is this what you do all afternoon?"
Tadashi's head snapped up from his bowl. The man had only spoken to him a handful of times before. He was used to a comfortable silence between the two of them.
"What?" Tadashi asked, tilting his head. "Eat ice cream? I wish. My brother would probably kill me for not saving any for him."
Most of the diner was empty, save for the elderly couple sitting in the corner. During the past couple of days, Tadashi had formed a new habit. He'd check to see if the man was there - he always was - and would let the chef know what they needed before taking a seat at the booth. He found himself actually looking forward to it every week.
"Brother..." The man repeated, frowning at his bowl of the strawberry cheat. "I have a sister, I think. Or I did. She'd beg me to take her down to the ice cream shop, and when I didn't, she'd complain about me wasting all my money on Steve..."
He trailed off, eyes staring into the distance. Like he was in a soap opera, waiting for his cue.
Or like he was remembering something.
Tadashi cleared his throat, fiddling with his spoon. He'd gathered that Steve had to be someone close to the man, maybe a family member or boyfriend or something. He sure did mention him enough.
"Do you know where your sister is?" Tadashi asked in the softest voice he could muster. "Maybe finding her would, uh, help you figure some things out. I know that my little brother can be a pain sometimes, but..."
Maybe if the man could find his sister, he could find his way. Tadashi knew that if he was thrust into the middle of nowhere, he'd be able to figure out what to do - if Hiro were around. Sometimes siblings were all you needed.
The man shoveled a scoop of ice cream. "She's probably dead by now."
Tadashi blinked. Well then.
"Do you have any idea what your name might me?" He continued. "I'm Tadashi, by the way."
He held his hand out over the table. The man shoveled another scoop of strawberry ice cream into his mouth.
Tadashi tried not to frown. It might've not been about him. Judging by the man's metal arm, he guessed that the man was in the military, or something. And a lot of times, when soldiers came back, they had issues being normal. Talking was something normal. And maybe he wasn't bothered by Tadashi forcing different foods on him. Maybe he just didn't know how -
"Bucky," The man - Bucky - said. "My...my friends call me Bucky."
Tadashi smiled. Friends.
(He forced himself to ignore the embarrassment in his chest. So what if one of his only friends was a random man he'd met in the diner? He was still a friend.)
"It's nice to meet you, Bucky."
Bucky only offered a brief smile, but Tadashi wasn't complaining. It was still something.
"I have to start getting my stuff packed up, but you should try this." Tadashi pushed a cup toward the older man, moving to rise to his feet. "And let me know what you think."
"It's fizzy," Bucky remarked after several moments of obedient sipping. "Like bubbles."
Tadashi laughed, loud and open, as he gathered their bowls in his hands. "Yeah. Like bubbles."
Before he could turn back to the kitchen, Bucky was grabbing at his sleeve. Tadashi's eyes widened as Bucky pulled it back, revealing a dark blotch on his skin.
"You were hiding this." Bucky's eyes narrowed. "Where did it come from?"
Tadashi just gaped at him, eyes wide. Shit. He knew he shouldn't have been spending so much extra time around the diner. The extra spending money wasn't even worth it. Because, if his Mom found out, he'd be dead.
And so would Hiro.
"I-I tripped," Tadashi stuttered. "And hit my desk."
At least half of it wasn't a lie.
Bucky's eyes darkened. "You're lying."
"I'm not," Tadashi snapped, backing toward the kitchen. "J-just leave me alone, alright?"
The kid was out the door before Bucky could reach him.
"Sam?"
The man looked up from his book to see Bucky standing beside him, practically glaring. He almost looked like he was trying not to, though. They had to accept the small victories where they could.
"Yeah, Buck?" Sam asked, flashing a smile. "What can I help you out with?"
Bucky frowned at the ground. "What if someone needs help, but doesn't want it?"
Sam frowned, snapping his book shut. "Are we talking about someone in particular?"
"It's not me." Bucky's eyes narrowed. "It's...a friend."
"And it's not Steve?" Sam asked, shifting in his seat.
Bucky glared. "I'm asking you because I don't want to talk to Steve."
"Why don't you have a seat?" Sam cleared his throat, patting the spot next to him. "This sounds like it's gonna be a long story."