Who: Bucky and Open What: Working on the coffee shop Where: Food Court When: Sunday Open/Low/Ongoing
Bucky had dropped the baby off with Darcy early in the day before heading to the food court. He found the shop again easily and stepped inside. It was clear that they hadn’t planned to stop working, tools were left out, projects half finished. Something had pulled them away and then no one had come back since. Bucky knew why. And it still hurt a little bit. He closed his eyes for a moment, touching his hand to his chest where four rings still sat on a chain, took a slow breath and then got to work.
He started by cleaning up: tearing away the tarps that had been covering the glass front of the shop, clearing of dust and putting things away, organizing the tools and looking over what needed to be done. It didn’t take long, but once it was done it took him a few minutes to decide where to start. There wasn’t much to be done structurally, they’d gotten the counters and display cases already, most of the furniture had been set up, but they’d clearly been in the middle of decorating. His eyes kept landing on the unfinished mural wall Steve had started. It was of a sunrise, over what he only vaguely remembered as the beach that had been on the island. It wasn’t photorealistic, but had a comforting quality all the same. He knew why Steve had painted it, even if he never got to tell him. They didn’t get sunrises much here, only when doors were open, it was a nice thing to see every morning. Lookin at it now, it reminded him of the Bob Ross videos they would watch together on the internet. Steve engrossed in the paintings, Bucky engrossed in Steve.
Bucky was only grateful that Steve seemed to have been starting from the middle and working his way out. There were splashes of color covering most of the wall, with the middle section most detailed, fading to a blank white on the ends. He decided after a bit of thought to leave most of it the way it was. It was beautiful, even unfinished, and it would be a way to remember him. He dug through the piles of paint and brushes, coming across a deep purple color and some large brushes. He went to the ends of the wall and started to fill in the white, letting the purple fade in to the blacks, oranges, yellows and reds of the sunrise already painted.
By the time he finished he had taken off his shirt, leaving him in just an tank top, and had purple paint on both his skin and the shirt, but he ignored it. He was sure Steve could have done a better job, and probably had better plans, but he thought it looked alright, the bright colors of the sunset fading in to deep purple in a halo around the outside. He washed the brushes (and his hands) and went back into the kitchen. After making a pot of coffee and putting together a sandwich he went back to the front of the shop and sat at one of the tables, a pen and notebook already there waiting for him.
He ate his lunch idly, writing notes to himself while listening to music softly on his phone. He made lists of things he wanted to get when the next door opened, food he could make with the things he had already been able to find, more renovations he wanted to make. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be here, but he could leave them for his past self. He remembered how depressed he’d been after Steve disappeared, how long it had taken for him to come back to this place and do all of the work to make it something Steve would have been proud of. But he also remembered how much easier the day-to-day got once it was done; once he had a schedule and something to do with his hands and people to talk to. He hoped that maybe, if he could get most of the hard parts done, it would be easier for his past-self to get there.
Eventually a small, grey, tabby cat wandered out from somewhere and curled herself in his lap, Bucky smiled. “I wondered where you might be.” He offered her a bit of his sandwich and went back to his list, free hand idly petting behind her ears as she purred softly.