Chapter 3
The moment he was let out from the debrief, Steve collapsed on his bed. The mission went wrong in every way possible. So many of the casualties could have been avoided. Overall, it was a disaster and Steve wanted nothing more than to fall into the oblivion of sleep.
As luck would have it, that wouldn’t be happening. He was almost asleep when he heard shouting from his foyer.
“Rogers get your sexy ass out of bed.”
Of course it was Clint, meaning Natasha was with him as well. We wouldn’t put it past her to come into his room and drag him out of bed.
He begrudgingly got up from where he had face planted and headed to where his friends were.
“Good morning sunshine,” Nat greeted, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Why are you two disturbing me?”
Clint decided it was his turn to speak up. “You’re coming to get coffee with us. And apple pie. You have no say in the matter.”
“I assumed I didn’t.”
The duo led Steve out of the apartment and to the bakery he swore he would never go back to.
He vividly remembers the first and only time he ever went there. Clint had been raving about the coffee there for weeks. He said it was the best cup of coffee he had ever had, and considering how much coffee Clint drank that's high praise. Even Bruce loved the place. Steve often saw him in the elevator with a bag of croissants from there. So he gave in and went.
The shop itself was cozy. The walls and upholstery were pastel blues and purples which coordinated perfectly with the black counters and tables. In one of the corners were a few bean bag chairs that were occupied by furiously typing students.
It wasn’t the colors or the case of beautiful pastries that held Steve’s attention though. It was the man working the counter. His long brown hair was tied up in a bun at the nape of his neck. Despite wearing a long sleeved shirt, Steve could see how muscular his arms were. It was his smile that Steve was drawn to the most. The curve of his lips as he laughed at something the customer he was serving said, the way his nose scrunched up, and how his steel blue eyes lit up. Steve’s fingers itched for a pencil in a way they hadn’t since he shipped off in 1941. He wanted to capture the beautifying man’s image, but knew that he would never be able to do him justice.
When Steve finally got up to the counter, he was shocked that he was able to form a full sentence with that smile directed at him. He ordered his coffee and a slice of apple pie, then went to sit down at one of the tables near the back.
He started by drinking his coffee. It made sense why Clint loved it so much. Steve has every intention of returning often. At least, until he took a bite of the pie.
He knew that any pie he ate would never be as good as the one his mother made whenever she had a little extra money to make them a treat. With that in mind, he took his first bite. The pie was eerily familiar. He slowly chewed on the bite trying to place why. By the time he took his second bite he knew exactly why. The apple pie tasted exactly like the one his mom’s.
Steve didn’t know how long he sat there staring blankly at the pie, but it was long enough for the beautiful man to come over and wrap the pie up in a to go box for him. Figuring he was there for long enough, Steve waited until the man was busy with customers to make his retreat, leaving the box of pie on the table.
Did he feel bad for that? A little bit, but he wasn’t in the greatest headspace at the time. Ever since then, he had been too embarrassed to go back. He wanted to tell the man that it wasn’t his fault. The pie just tasted too much like his past life, but he couldn’t. Maybe he would be lucky and the guy wouldn’t remember him.
Having Clint and Nat drag him there was terrifying. It was very likely that the beautiful man would be working and he probably remembered Steve’s reaction to the pie. And he probably hated him.
As he expected, the beautiful man from his last visit was at the counter when they walked in. When he saw them, he waved to Clint and Nat, but when he noticed Steve was with them his expression was unreadable.
“Hey Bucky,” Clint greeted when it was their turn to order.
“Hey Clint, Nat. You guys want your usual or are you going to switch it up on me this time?” The man, Bucky, asked.
“Same as always, but add on an americano and a slice of apple pie for our buddy here,” Clint gestured towards Steve.
Bucky quirked an eyebrow at him. “Really? You sure he wants a slice of pie? He didn’t seem to enjoy it the last time he was here.”
So he did remember Steve, and it seemed like he wasn’t his biggest fan. It made sense though. Captain America, the human version of apple pie if the people of tumblr were to be believed, comes into your bakery and can’t finish a slice of your apple pie. Steve would have held a grudge if he were in Bucky’s position.
“Let’s just go with the americano,” he said, not sure if he would be able to eat the pie if he got another slice.
Bucky huffed out a laugh. “Sure thing pal. Wouldn’t want you to have to suffer my shitty apple pie again. Should I just take it off the menu entirely? If it’s not good enough for Captain America to give a second chance, I get the feeling I should.”
In fear that he might actually end up in a fight with the man of Apple pie, Steve chose to leave the situation.
“I’ll go grab us a table,” he told Clint and Nat before walking away.
He sat down at a table in the back, very intentionally not choosing the same one he did the last time. He pulled out his phone and tried to distract himself while he waited for his friends to join him. He really hoped they wouldn’t ask about what just happened, but he knew it was too good to be true.
“What the hell was that?” Was the first thing Nat said when she sat down next to him.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m with Nat,” Clint joined in, placing Steve’s coffee in front of him. “I thought you said you still hadn’t come here. Did you lie to me? Are you even capable of lying?”
Steve let out a long breath. “I came in a few months ago. I got a coffee and a slice of pie. The coffee was great and I totally understand why you love it.”
“Yeah and the pie is great too so why did Bucky say you didn’t like it?”
“Well,” Steve started, rubbing the back of his neck, “it was familiar. When I took the first bite I couldn’t place it, but by the second I knew it tasted just like my mom’s. I think I, what’s the word, disassociated. I just stared at the pie for a long time. I couldn’t bring myself to finish it. So the pie was great, I just… It put me in a bad headspace and I don’t want to go back there.”
Natasha laid a hand over his in understanding. Clint gave a slight nod, then quickly changed the subject to something lighter. Steve was thankful for the distraction, especially after the stress of their mission. He let Clint tell crazy stories from his days in the circus, laughing when appropriate. He did his best not to get lost in his own head, and for the most part he succeeded.
Eventually Steve needed time to himself, so he excused himself from the table to head back home. His friends stayed behind in the shop, leaving Steve to go home alone.
It wasn’t until after he was alone in his bedroom that things started to come back to him, specifically the immense loneliness he felt in this new century. His mother died before he even shipped off, all of his friends from before the war died before he was found, and he didn’t feel like he really fit in with the rest of the Avengers. Yeah, he hung out with them, but he wasn’t as close with them as he was with the commandos.
Then there was the issue of his soulmate, or lack thereof. Everyone he knew had one. Clint and Nat, Tony and Pepper, Bruce and Betty. He was the only one who was truly alone.
He had to know for sure that he really was alone. He hadn’t tried to reach out to his possible soulmate since was found. He knew it was stupid to think that they were out there, but he needed the confirmation that they weren’t.
He went searching through his apartment for a pen. After a few minutes of looking he found one in a kitchen drawer. He went back to his bedroom and sat down, trying to think of the best thing to write. It took a while, but he eventually figured it out. He carefully penned the words onto his forearm, then crawled under the sheets. He hoped that when he woke up there would be a yes on his arm.