#i am supposed to work only 8 hours a week not fucking thrice as much

[oxygenbefore1775]

I just hate that 19 year old gullible girl who got her first ever job six months ago in hopes to earn some buck only to be overworked and forced to spend the nights awake to deal with all the workload while severely undermining her own uni studies

[nothowonenightstandswork]

One Shot - Shape of You

Bucky x OC

Warnings: Language, Implied Intimacy

Notes: First time posting anything. I’m sure a million things are wrong about it. Cliche title is the song currently stuck in my head.  

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“You’re back early!” Sam replied from his seat in Bucky and Sam’s common area. He was on monitor duty tonight.

“Sam, it’s almost 4 in the morning. It’s not exactly early,” Bucky replied. Bucky’s suite of rooms are on the other side of the common space from where Sam is watching the monitors, lounging on the couch, and eating ice cream. He hadn’t really intended on staying out so late, but this time he didn’t let Sam’s needling get to him.

“You’re still the first one back... Well?” Sam pushed, “How’d it go? You check out that place I told you about?” The place Sam is referring to is, for lack of a better name, a bar for people with powers. The owner is apparently from Asgard. As a result, it’s one of the only places in town where the alcohol is strong enough to be effective.

“Yeah, we did. You were right, it’s…” Bucky smiles, thinking about his evening. “It’s more my speed.”

“Nah, man, I see that look! Give me the details! Desk duty is boring, let me live vicariously through you!”

“A gentleman never tells,” Bucky evades with a smile. “Night, Sam.” He continues on through the common room to his suite in the tower.

“Come on, I told you about the place, you owe me! Are you humming? What song is that! Share, man!”

“Good night, Sam.” With a backward wave, he shuts the door behind him.

                                                        ---

The soft click of the front doors being pulled gently closed, is loud as a shot, slicing through Val’s light doze. Instead of opening her eyes, she instead opens up the shields she uses to keep other people’s thoughts out and feels the space around her. The nearest awake mind is in the hall and moving away. He seems to be happy and is humming.

Oh! She thinks as she sits up in her now empty bed. The other side is still faintly warm from its recent occupant. The rest of the studio apartment is easily visible from her bed and the only clothes scattered around the floor are her own. Guess he had places to be, she chuckles to herself, as she stretches to turn on the bedside lamp. The clock says 3:15 am. She pulls the blankets back up onto the mattress and snuggles down underneath, waiting for sleep to arrive once more. Sleep returns reluctantly, indignant at being startled, and Val has just enough time to decide to be pleased with the evening’s outcome

Morning still arrived way too early. The sunlight glaring in through the top down shades. I purposely chose this apartment so that the sun would help me wake up, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. She thinks as she kicks the covers off petulantly. The motion awakens a few sore areas that make her smile quietly in remembrance. The phone ringing cuts quickly through her reverie. She darts from the bed to the bar separating the kitchenette from her bedroom/living area.

“Hello?” she answers. There can only be a few options as to caller, so she’s a little shocked to hear an unfamiliar voice.

“Hello, Ms Bracca, this is Darlene calling from the Westside Veteran’s Center. I’m calling to inquire if you received our correspondence and to remind you that your appointment is at 9 this morning. Please bring your letter of introduction and a form of current ID. Thank you very much and we hope to see you soon.” The line abruptly goes dead.

“Uh, yes, Darlene. I did, Darlene. I will, Darlene. Good bye.” Val mutters to the phone. She checks the clock, it’s only 630am. Fuck you, Darlene. She adds mentally. No reason to call so early. Bullshit. If I didn’t need this contract, I’d…  she grumbles to herself and she walks to the only separate room in the apartment; the bathroom.

                                                         ---

“Rise and shine, Sam! The sun is up! We got work to do!” Bucky shakes Sam awake from where he has fallen asleep on the couch.

  “I will kill you, if you don’t let me sleep,” Sam mumbles from underneath his arm. He peeks blearly at his phone. “7am! The B Widow herself didn’t get back in to relieve me until 5, man. Two hours is not enough.”

“Suit yourself. I’m going to go workout. You stay here and sleep off your boring, non-vicarious night.” Bucky knew the one thing Sam liked more than sleep was gossip and was pretty confidant the goad would work.

“You know,” Sam says sitting up and tossing a cushion in Bucky’s direction. “You are pretty Up this morning. Do I detect a hint of… happiness?”

“Bucky hooked up last night,” Natasha interjects as she saunters into the room. “Why are you still sleeping, Sam? The sun is up.”

“Na-ta-sha.” Sam enunciates each syllable snarkily. “How the hell are you so cheery? You rolled in even later than he did.” Natasha doesn’t answer, just starts rummaging in the common kitchen’s cabinets. “Hey, lady, get your own coffee. That stuffs ours.”

“These aren’t,” Nat says, holding up a bag she’d pulled out from under the sink. “Later, fellas.”

“If you’re coming with me, get changed, Sam,” Bucky adds.

“Are we not going to talk about her hiding stuff in OUR rooms.”

“If you don’t hurry, we aren’t gonna talk about anything.” Instead of waiting, Bucky heads for the rec area.

Stark might not have been overly pleased that he was living here, but he wasn’t stingy with space. This floor housed a rec area and 3 sets of suites. Sam and Bucky shared one. Nat and Wanda shared the second. Steve and Clint shared the third. Clint had his own apartment in Bed-Stuy so Steve usually had his to himself. And Natasha tended to treat all common spaces as her own; squirreling away supplies in whatever area made the most sense at the time.

Today, the rec area was quiet. Steve liked to be up early and was finished with his morning workout before Bucky was dressed most mornings. Nat was on monitor duty, Clint was probably at his own place and Wanda has been out on assignment with Vision since last week. “Assignment.” Bucky thinks to himself.

He has barely started his warm-ups before Sam rushes in, hastily pulling a t-shirt on.

“So, you gonna tell me their name?” he picks up, as if no time has passed.

“No.” Bucky grunts while stretching.

“Are you going to see them again?” Sam pushes.

“No.”

“ A one night stand, huh? You surprise me, Barnes. You gonna tell me how you met?” Sam pries.

“No.” Bucky replies. The look on Sam’s face makes all the monosyllable answers worthwhile.

“OH COME ON!” Sam explodes. “Why the hell are you teasing me if you aren’t gonna tell me anything!”

“It got you to come work out, didn’t it?” Bucky grins at Sam’s visible irritation.

“I hate you,” Sam say flatly, “you know that right?”

Bucky had a great comeback ready, but was interrupted by Steve’s arrival.

“Sam! Suit up! Wanda called and she needs some back-up.”

“I’ll get my stuff,” Sam responds, suddenly all business. Steve turns to face Bucky.

“Buck--”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll hold the fort. Be careful out there.”

“We want you out there with us, we do, but-” Steve reaches out to put a comforting had on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Steve. I know. Go help Wanda.” Steve gives his shoulder a squeeze before nodding and heading for the elevator.

The Winter Soldier’s visibility in the intelligence agencies has been an open issue for awhile now. Stark, or more accurately, Maria Hill courtesy of Stark Industries has been working on it, but traction has been slow.

“Hey, man,” Sam says as he looks around the door; suit on, gear on his shoulder. “If you aren’t busy, I was supposed to interview a new therapist at the VA today. Why don’t you take that?”

“Sam, what do I know about therapists? Or interviews?”

“Look, man, trust your gut. And if you can’t, stall and I can take care of it when I get back.” Sam taps the door jamb once with his hand before walking off toward the elevator.

“Sam, what… time… is… the interview….” Bucky trails off as he hears the elevator doors close. He sighs.

                                                         ---

Where the FUCK is that letter of introduction? Val knows it was on the counter. Did it get knocked onto the ground in the moment last night? She’s checked the couch, under the couch, on top of the stools at thebar. Where could it… she eyes the note her guest had left last night before leaving.

Thank you, I had a wonderful evening. I thought it best not to wake you. -J

“Did he…,” Val flips over the paper and there it is, her letter of introduction from Sanctuary. She flips the letter back over to look at the note. It’s written in pen. “Of course it is!” she shouts. Letter in hand, she looks at the clock 8:30. She can make it if she runs. She grabs her coat, phone and keys, pulls the door shut behind her, goes back to lift up on the handle so it actually latches, and runs to the elevator and her appointment.

Sam’s office is even more boring than Bucky expected. Since moving here from DC, Sam had been put in charge of managing the outreach programs for the Westside Veteran’s Center. Part-time. Gratis, of course. “I’m hardly here,” he had said previously, “didn’t seem right to ask for money too.” The office, shared office, Bucky corrected himself, looked just as part-time as the position. Bare walls, no photos, two chairs and a desk. Even the small window looked out at a brick wall. Charming.

Sam’s secretary, Darlene had given him a thrice over and a gimlet stare when he’d arrived claiming to be performing Sam’s interview today. After a full two minutes of scrutiny, she’d finally shrugged and let him into the office. She wordlessly handed him a folder before going back to her desk. Inside was his information about his interviewee. He’d gotten through the first paragraph when he heard a woman’s voice outside.

                                                          ---

She made excellent time on her way here. It would have been faster if she was willing to just vault cars in public, but as it was she had ten full minutes to spare before the appointed time. The door to Sam Wilson’s office was closed when she’d arrived and a battleship of a woman was waiting impatiently, so Val spent a few minutes in the ladies’ room to neaten up. She didn’t have to LOOK like she’d ran here, after all.

I don’t know why I’m nervous, she thought. Just business as usual.

The door to the office was open when she exited the ladies’ room. The woman, Darlene, according to her nameplate, expressionlessly watched her approach.

“You must be Ms. Bracca,” she said before Val had even stopped. “Your assistant recommended that I call early this morning, in case you overslept. May I see your ID?” Val wordlessly fishes out her driver’s license and hands it over. A quick check and Darlene hands it back, before waving her toward the office just down the hall. “He’s in his office. Go ahead.”

“Uh. Thanks.” Val says before slipping her ID back into her jacket pocket. She pulls the letter of introduction out on the inside pocket of her coat. Folded in thirds, the note from last night’s anonymous paramour “J” is easily visible, so she unfolds the paper, and prays Sam Wilson doesn’t see it.

                                                            ---

Eight steps are all the warning he gets before a voice says from the doorway.

“Sam Wilson, I’m Valeria Bracca, from Sanctuary,” she says to his back.

Bucky turns as she extends her arm to hand him a piece of paper and freezes. Heat rushes to his face as he recognizes the woman from last night.

“You’re Sam Wilson?,” the woman asks, doubtfully. She either hasn’t recognized him or has a better poker face than he does. She’s prettier in the daylight, he thinks before snapping back to reality.

“Uh, no,” he stammers out. She takes two steps backward and glances at the nameplate beside the door.

“I’m going to assume you’re also not Jenna Cary, co-director of Veteran Outreach.” She continues.

“I’m also not her. Here, please, have a seat.” Manners that had been drilled into him kicking in. He walks around behind the desk, a much less potentially embarrassing place to be. “I’m James Barnes, Mr. Wilson had a… an unexpected event crop up and asked me to do this interview in his place.”

Ms. Bracca, Val according to the file Darlene handed him, hesitates for a few seconds before walking to the only other chair in the room. They both sit down at the same time.

“Mr. Barnes.” She says.

                                                             ---

The moment he turned around, Val knew this was not the man Netta, her assistant, had described. As soon as his face turned red, she recognized him as the man she’d taken home from Alastaar’s. Sheer force of will has kept her from blushing and leaving. Now, sitting, she realizes she’s still holding the paper.

“This is my letter of introduction,” he reaches over the desk to accept the paper. He looks curious and briefly flips it over before impossibly flushing an even brighter shade of red. Val raises an eyebrow and waits for him to speak. It quickly becomes evident he isn’t ready to start this interview, so Val begins.

“Mr… Barnes. I’m here as a representative of Sanctuary. We’ve been offered-”

“I’m sorry. Sanctuary?” he interrupts. The flush slowly draining from his face as they switch gears to business. She schools her face to hide her irritation.

“Right. You’re standing in for Mr. Wilson. Sanctuary is a non-profit organization focused on serving the housing and mental health needs of veteran and veteran adjacent individuals.” He leans forward and waits a beat before speaking.

“You help homeless people.” At her nod, he continues. “Why are you here then?”

“We recently secured a contract from the federal government to aid in the VA’s efforts in the same areas. I’m here as an introduction and to help smooth the way for cooperation between our two organizations.” He nods as he thinks that through.

“So, this is a done deal, and this interview is…”

“A formality, yes.” His shoulders visibly relax. Val smiles slightly at his obvious relief. “I assume Mr. Wilson didn’t brief you on any of this.”

“No, he did not.” The crack her little tiny smile left in her professional veneer elicits a grin of his own. “He was in a hurry, but I suspect he also didn’t tell me as revenge. Ah, Sam is my roommate,” he volunteers. She grins back.

“Revenge for what?” He turns red again and shifts uncomfortable in his seat. “You know, I think that is a topic for a different place. Uh,” he levers himself up out of the chair. Val stands as well. “You’re hired. Your people will talk to my people.” They shake hands professionally, although the grip softens slightly and lingers. He takes a quick breath before continuing. “Would you like to get lunch sometime? Well, today. I mean. Now?” Val can feel the warmth she’d been throttling back rush up to her cheeks.

“It’s still morning-”

“Breakfast then?” He gives her that same smile he’d had last night. That charming one that hits her right in the knees. “On me.”

“It’s a deal.”

                                                          ---

Darlene had, unexpectedly, recommended this diner without prompting as they had exited Sam’s office. Apparently the acoustics in the hall are perfect for eavesdropping.

“Is there… any way… I can convince you to not tell Sam about this?” he had asked the smug woman.

“Oh, honey, no chance in hell,” she had replied wickedly. “You two have a nice time.”

“I think I’m gonna pay for this,” he had said before glancing back at Val. “Shall we?”

                                                          ---

“This isn’t my area of expertise,” Val says over coffee from across the table, “but this isn’t typically how one night stands are supposed to go.” Bucky finishes chewing and swallowing a bit of toast before replying.

“Well, I don’t think fate typically makes people bump into each other again hours later.”

“Is that what this is?’ she asks. “Fate?” He shrugs.

“Maybe on my part. Plans change last minute…” a thought occurs to him and he pulls her letter of introduction out of his pocket and hands it back. “I, ah, didn’t think you’d want my note in an official file.” She grins and accepts the paper.

“That’s probably for the best. I’ll have another copy sent over.” She tucked the paper back into her jacket pocket. “You know, my assistant usually does these interviews. She’s doing the interview in Albany this morning and sent me here in her stead.”

“See. Fate.” He gestured with his last piece of toast to emphasize his point. Val shakes her head.

“Alright, I concede,” she sets her empty mug aside. She grins mischievously and leans toward him. “So, what does Fate have in store for you the rest of the morning?” Bucky stretches his arms over his head and smiles widely.

“Well, I’ve seen your place. Want to come see mine?”