Bucky really doesn't know much about jewelry. He never has. He knows the stuff can get expensive and he knows that there's never been a partner yet for whom he's felt the need to buy a pair of earrings that cost more than a month's rent. He thinks that says something about him, or his partners. Sam comes closest, but the guy doesn't wear jewelry.
Bucky grew up with very little. He grew up learning from the very youngest years how to save. When his father got a necklace for his mother on Christmas, Bucky Barnes knew his pop had saved up for weeks on weeks into months. He was well aware of the sacrifices that were made to bring home that glittering chain with the tiniest little diamond pendant.
He was grateful that his folks didn't impress it on them. His sisters were a bit more naive. Bucky just happened to be observant. He was the oldest, though, so it did eventually became his responsibility to slowly teach them.
“No, we can't get that extra candy this week. It costs too much and we need to make sure Ma can keep the heat going. It's gonna get cold.”
“If we spent our money on that, Sis, we wouldn't be able to afford the things Pop sent us to get. You know how sore he'd get. We need those things more than we need the doll right now. I'm sorry.”
“I'll make you one, Becks. We got the stuff at home in Ma's sewing kit. I'll learn and I'll make you one that's better'n anything in the store. You'll see. We don't gotta waste our money on that.”
As his sisters got older, actually explaining the value of money and why it was so hard to come by got easier. Tears were less a result of him saying no. And when he got a short-lived job with the paper, he was able to splurge a little. He'd promised their folks he was helping out with the house first, but they let him keep a good chunk of each pay for himself and his sisters.
Truthfully, it all went to his sisters. And to Steve. He can't remember a single time during that job that he bought something for himself. No comics or baseball cards or even a new ball. There was a pair of gloves at one point, but Pop gave him half and helped with that. It was a “business expenditure,” Pop had called it. “Can't have you freezing while you're working, kid.”
The job hadn't lasted long. About two seasons. When the winter truly started to get harsh, they let him go. They weren't about to let Winnie Barnes’ boy freeze on their watch. “Not that sweet little babe,” one of them had said to her when they'd told her, not him, that he no longer had the job.
Yeah. They fired him by way of calling his mother. It should have been embarrassing, but Bucky was young and he adored his Ma, so he'd taken it in stride, like all other things as a kid. He was the oldest after all. He had to set an example. Couldn't just throw a fit in the middle of the office because they sent him home.
He's still the oldest, technically, but the only one of his siblings still around is in a nursing home and doesn't even remember him. She thinks, and has thought for decades, that he's dead, and with how close to the end she is, Bucky can't bring himself to try and break into Becca's mind and world right now. He leaves her be in her bed with her nurses and continues on with his life, because he's the oldest and he has a responsibility to show some decorum for the family name.
If only it were that easy.
He's sitting in a strangely dark little jewelry store right now with a paper number in his hand, trying his best to just wait. There's a lot of people here, after all, and he's not here for himself. He's here for his sister-in-law, and he'll be damned if he's going to make her look bad by being a prick in a store he doesn't belong in. He loves Sarah too much to pull any stunts that would come back on her.
Well, he does love her. Sometimes lately, his impulse control isn't as good as it's been in the past. He doesn't have Pop looming over his metaphorical shoulder anymore. Ma isn't waiting to hear a progress report. He doesn't have little sisters watching his every move and ready to imitate him in public. He's just Bucky Barnes. And he's got his own reputation now, soiled by decades of brainwashing and torture, though he's slowly building it back up with his own merit.
For example, everyone in this town knows him to be level-headed, generous, and sweet. He's helpful and friendly and always ready with a smile even on his worst days. If he can make someone else smile even when he's feeling like shit- Well, the shit doesn't stink so bad.
The problem he's facing right now has nothing to do with himself or Sarah or the lessons of his childhood, though. It has everything to do with seeing someone in clear distress for no reason, and wanting more than anything to do something about it.
He'd watched her come in. She's young. Maybe late teens, early 20s. If she's older than 23, Bucky would be shocked. She looks like someone who hasn't seen much yet, and that's not a bad thing. God, does he know that's not a bad thing. She looks naive, like Becca did when she was younger. There's an air to some people, he's realized over the years. Some people can hide it, but others wear their entire personhood right out in the open. This girl looks like she's never stepped foot out of the house without someone telling her where to go, how to get there, what to do. Probably had someone at her side the entire time.
She's down on her luck now, though. Something took that security from her and left her with nothing. He can see it in her eyes. In the way her shoulders sag as she walks. She looks like the world has already taken her through it a few times, and she's only been on her own for a month, maybe two.
He watches her approach the counter, managing to get one of the jewelers’ attention, despite how busy they all seem to be. He also notes the shifting and irritation this simple action causes several of the people waiting in the small, plush waiting area with him. They all had to take a number and wait. What makes this girl any different?
Bucky doesn't care. The world could be called to that counter before him, so long as he gets Sarah's earrings to take back home before he leaves. He's got enough patience to last. He's used to sitting around for days on end waiting for mission parameters. This is nothing.
Still, the stir in the others must alert one of the girls behind the counter, because she turns and sees the girl who's walked in talking to the other jeweler and starts to reprimand the other jeweler, telling the girl to just take a number and sit down. They're far too busy to stop and break the line.
The first employee, the one that stopped to talk to the girl, tries to say something, but the other one- Bucky thinks maybe she's a manager -starts to raise her voice, yanking a paper number from the ticket machine and slamming it down on the counter in front of the girl before giving her a very condescending look.
And the words out of her mouth next are what set Bucky's teeth on edge. She probably didn't expect anyone to actually hear them except the other employee and the girl, but Bucky's hearing is advanced after all. He hears it clear as day.
“Not like she can afford anything here anyway. It's a waste of your time, Clarissa.”
Because Bucky's been there. Bucky's done the scraping the bottom of the barrel for enough money to feed the family. He watched his parents struggling with their own hunger just to make sure he and his sisters ate. They even fed Steve before they fed themselves. Sometimes it wasn't much more than watery soup and bread cut so thin you almost couldn't taste it, but they did what they damn well could and Bucky knows how hard that was for them. He saw.
He's on his feet before he even registers he's moving. There's a startled sound near him as his movement must have shifted the sofa he was sitting on. The other waiting customers turn and watch. He doesn't care. In less than four strides, he's on the other side of the room, standing next to the young girl and glaring at the manager (yeah, there it is on her shirt; she's wearing a fancy name badge that says she's in charge and she clearly takes it seriously).
“What kind of way is that to run a place of business?” he asks, keeping his body language as loose as possible, despite the fact he's already boiling inside. He puts himself slightly between the counter and the girl who's just come in. Maybe he's being protective, but he can't quite tell. All he knows is this manager has set him off and there's very little holding Bucky back from just… going off this time.
“Excuse me?” the manager asks (Mel, the fancy name tag says), her tone biting and shocked in one. The way she holds herself tells Bucky all he needs to know. She doesn't just think she's in charge. She thinks she's better than everyone here because she's in charge. “We're very busy right now, Sir, so if you could step aside and let us handle the line, we'll take care of you when your number is called.”
“Yeah, no, I get that,” Bucky says. He's absolutely aware that the entire population of the store has turned to watch the interaction now and he really doesn't give a shit. He should. God, he should. He doesn't. “But here's my problem. With you specifically. Mel, is it? See, this gal came in with questions and I'm sure Clarissa was doing a great job answering them. People were still being helped. You were even able to come over here and give her shit, so clearly you had the time and space to take on the next person in line yourself, but instead you decided to publicly berate your coworker and this poor girl you've never met. Why? Because it makes you feel bigger?”
He can see the anger in her eyes, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care that her cheeks are turning red and she looks like a fucking tomato about ready to pop off the vine. It doesn't help that her gaudy, expensive necklace she's obviously wearing to showcase the store's goods is too tight around her neck and squeezes every time she swallows or shifts. It makes her look almost comical in her agitation.
He doesn't care about any of that. What he cares about is the girl at his back who he can now tell is definitely no older than 19. This poor girl who's shaking and he can hear her teeth chattering because it's fucking winter and cold out and even out here in Delacroix, it can still get cold. If you're not used to being stuck outside in the low 40s at night, you're not about to just glide through. Clearly, this girl is not used to it. And her lack of even a single jacket against the breeze says as much.
“We have to maintain a certain standard here, Sir,” Mel is saying, and Bucky swears he sees red. He didn't know that was a thing, but holy shit, he actually knows what a pissed off bull feels like because he's about ready to wreck this place top to bottom from just one sentence out of this woman's mouth.
“Standard?” he growls, glaring at her. “What sort of standard is it that involves insulting people who come into the shop?” He looks at Clarissa. “What even was she asking about?” He knows. He heard, but he wants Clarissa to say it.
“She was asking about our job openings,” Clarissa says softly, not daring to make eye contact with Mel.
Bucky tilts his head. “So, you're gonna insult someone who very well could be in here helping you with this heavy workload within a week? She's willing to come in here and work with you and you're treating her like shit from the start because she doesn't look like she has enough to afford the product? Did you, when you first started working here? Hell, can you even now?”
Mel opens her mouth like she's going to say something, but snaps it shut seconds later, eyes widening.
“Yeah, that minimum wage gig at a place where you're constantly worried about the next customer being the one who's gonna hold you up at gunpoint looks real sweet when you realize you can't even afford the necklace you're wearing on loan, doesn't it?” Bucky adds.
Mel reaches up, her hand ghosting over the necklace before dropping back to her side. “You're causing a disturbance, Sir,” she says finally. “I suggest you and this young lady both leave before I call the police.”
Bucky barks out a laugh. “Please call the police,” he growls. “It's been a while since I've seen Sergeant Atkins. We could catch up.”
Bucky knows a lot of people in this town, thanks to Sarah and the boys. He helps Sarah all the time on the boat and takes the boys around town for errands constantly. When Sam's out of town, Bucky is the official cool uncle (sometimes when Sam is in town, too). He especially knows a few of the men and women down at the station. Bob Atkins is one of them, and the last one that “arrested” Bucky in town.
Someone had called in a suspicious person because Bucky had parked the Wilson family truck in a parking lot and fallen asleep waiting for the store to open (getting there two hours early because he couldn't sleep at home had been his fault, no one else's). They recognized the truck, but not the person in it, and thought someone had stolen Sarah's truck. Rightfully so, they'd called the police in and Bucky had ended up in handcuffs in the back of a squad car. He never made it to the precinct. They'd settled it all when they realized who he was, but he still gives Bob grief for it at gatherings.
His confidence seems to unsettle Mel just enough, because she takes a step back behind the counter. “Get out,” she says firmly.
“Gladly,” Bucky rumbles, turning and looking at the young girl. “You don't wanna work here anyway. The boss is a piece of work.”
The girl, who's been silent this entire time, gives him a weak smile and looks down. He can see she's trying to hold back tears, and he doesn't blame her. He gestures to the door, offering her the chance to lead the way out.
As the girl steps out in front of him, he puts his own number down on the counter. 27. Which just happens to be the next number on the screen. He smiles at Clarissa, a genuine expression. “I'll let my sister come get her earrings instead. I wish you the best, Clarissa. I hope you catch a break one of these days.”
With that, he slips outside, moving to follow the girl where she's already gone a few storefronts down. He reaches out, gently tapping her shoulder, but not holding. He won't make her feel trapped.
“Hey, are you alright?” he asks her softly.
The girl turns to him, wiping her face. “No,” she admits. “I've been trying to find just one place to take me seriously, but it's hard when all you have is one fucking dirty outfit and no place to actually lie down at night.”
Bucky frowns, feeling his chest tighten. It's worse than he thought. “Have you tried the women's shelter in town?”
The girl looks up at him with a look of disgust. “Why?”
“Because it's a place to safely sleep at night?” he says, shrugging. “Because they don't judge there. I help out in the cafeterias at the shelters when I can. Only place they'll let a man help, and only during daylight hours- which, good for them. That's beside the point I'm tryin’ to make, though. It's a place you could go to get a shower, a hot meal, and sleep. They even have some clothes donations and stuff. They've got classes and stuff for helping you get into the job market at the community center right next door, too.”
The girl wraps her arms around herself tightly. “No one wants to help someone like me,” she sighs.
“Lot of people do,” Bucky tells her. “They work at those places for no money, just to make sure people like you can be safe in a night. They do it because that's all they want, is to see you safe. Give it a try? I can even walk you down there?”
She shakes her head. “I'll- I'll go. On my own. You don't gotta babysit me.” She takes a step back from him. “I'm fine. I don't need you, okay?”
Bucky puts his hands up, unmoving. She's scared, and he doesn't want to scare her more. He watches as she backs away a bit, then turns and runs. He lowers his head, swallowing past a lump in his throat. There's no telling if she'll listen and get help. There's no telling what happened in her life to get her here. All he knows is that he can hope she'll be okay.
He pushes his hands into his pockets and turns, heading back toward the jeweler, only because that's where he parked. He's not planning on going back inside.
When he gets there, Clarissa is standing outside by the door. Her face is a little red and splotchy, but she lights up with a smile when she sees him.
“Hey, Mr. Barnes,” she calls out, and Bucky has to take a moment to remember that people do recognize him even when he's wearing gloves and hiding the arm. He's Bucky Barnes, after all.
He goes to her, giving a soft, curious smile. “Hey. Clarissa, right? You doin’ okay?”
Clarissa nods and wipes her face. “Yeah. I just quit. That's not the first time Mel's pulled that shit on me and it wouldn't have been the last. I just wanted to thank you for stepping in. Most customers just look the other way, but that poor girl didn't need that. And I think I'd lost my fight years ago.”
Bucky frowns. “We can get dragged down by the same bullshit every day. It's not your fault.”
“It wasn't yours either,” she says, smiling softly. “Or your responsibility. But you're a good guy. And that's what the good guys do.” She holds out a small bag. “Here. Sarah's earrings. I grabbed them before I left. She's already paid up, so you don't have to worry.”
Bucky chuckles and gently takes the bag, looking in to see the earrings in their case at the bottom. “You didn't have to do that. Couldn't you get in trouble?”
“I already quit,” Clarissa snorts. “What's she gonna do? Fire me for hand delivering a customer's jewelry?” She shrugs. “I'm gonna go find a new job. One that I can actually afford to shop at after they pay me. You made a good point in there. I'm barely making enough for rent.” She shakes her head and sighs. “My boyfriend will understand. He's a lot like you.”
She steps closer, wrapping her arms around him in a quick hug, then starts heading to her own car. “See you around, Mr. Barnes. Maybe you and the Captain can do a double date with my boyfriend and me someday.” She winks and slips into her car, gone before Bucky can even react.
When Bucky gets back to the house, he's met by Sarah in the kitchen. He hands her the bag and she kisses his cheek.
“You were gone a while,” she says, brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”
Bucky hums, pulling her in with one arm for a hug. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Just a long line.”