For my Bucky

[beer_and_fire]

Brooklyn, New York is similar to Central City in many ways, but also not. One thing for sure it's enough of home to do as a new place to settle, but different enough to let him breathe easier. After fifteen years in prison for an arson charge that was ultimately ruled accidental during an appeal case, Mick was released from prison with time served and after a year of parole, a free man once more. He'd taken his savings which gave him just enough to buy the building on the edge of the rough part of town in Brooklyn. He turned the upstairs into an apartment and the downstairs into a bakery.

Then the blip happened and Mick found himself struggling in different ways but the community rallied and he managed to keep the business growing. Fast-forward to one year post return of those lost for five years and business is booming. He almost cannot believe his little bakery is doing so well. He's even had to hire help. He's got several teenagers working the afternoon shifts so he can prep for the following morning, he's got a couple cake decorators working now. He's got someone doing his accounting and saving him money in supplies and logistics. He's got another set of hands helping with the baking. It's more than he could ever have hoped for.

It's mid-morning on a Tuesday when he meets Bucky Barnes. Of course, Mick has no idea who the rather fetching brunette gentleman is. He doesn't watch the news if he can avoid it and he has no interest in current events. He's happy in his bakery bubble.

He's helping a driver unload some fresh produce when he sees him walking down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. Instantly he reminds Mick of an old friend. The look on his face, like he's lost in more ways than one strikes a chord inside of him. He dusts off his hands and calls out to the kid.

"Hey! Hate to bother ya, think you can lend a hand a moment? I need help getting these crates inside before the rain starts falling. I'll pay ya in whatever ya want out of the bake case."

Comments

[woundedwinter]

When he can't sleep, he walks the streets. Brooklyn is still his home so when he can't sleep, he walks the streets that he grew up on. He misses Steve, the others that they ran with, the echoes of his life.

The voice snaps him out of his reverie. Bucky blinks at the man, tall and broad and built like a brick. He can see the scars at his cuffs, the way he carries himself. Ex-fighter of some kind.

Oh. He's asking for help.

"Y-yeah. Sure."

Without really thinking about it, Bucky heads towards the heavy hand trucks of produce and lifts one. It doesn't occur to him that it might be weird to the guy that he's lifting almost a hundred pounds as easily as he is.

"Just make it coffee and I'm good." He's not used to asking for things for himself, especially now.

[beer_and_fire]

Mick knows strong guys and doesn't immediately question the way he can lift things. Hell, Mick can lift them too if he really wants too even if doesn't because it makes his back hurt after a while.

"Thanks." He says once all the crates are inside and not a moment too soon. The rain has started in earnest by the time the driver closes his rig up and starts to pull away. "Come on through the back, ain't gonna make you walk in that just to come in the front door." He says closing the door and waving him inside.

"Name's Mick. Appreciate ya help."

[woundedwinter]

"James," he offers. It's easier to use his given name. Not many people would recognize Bucky and who that would tie him to, but he's still trying to figure all of that out himself.

He slips inside, eyes scanning the place quickly. Knives on the wall. Ceiling venting system, possible exits. Old habits that haven't shown any signs of quitting.

Only after that does he breathe in the scent of the place. Warm yeast, bread, sweet and rich.

"It's.. it's no problem."

[beer_and_fire]

Mick's bakery is homey looking, warm colors, warm scents. It's cozy in a way only personally owned spaces can be. People who put love into their cooking.

Mick takes the empty space behind the counter, they're not open yet and no one else is in. "You a more savory or sweets guy? I got some croissants and some sweet rolls that just came out of the oven."

[woundedwinter]

The place calls up memories of cramped kitchens in tenements, Sarah Rogers baking bread and fussing over Steve and Bucky. Warm and safe. "I, uh, I don't really know. Both?"

He remembers sweet apple cake with custard sauce, the rolls the children would bring him in Wakanda. Rich and spicy.

"This is a nice place. Yours?"

[beer_and_fire]

Mick grabs one of each and pours a cup of coffee for Bucky placing the food on a ceramic plate. "Here, have a seat at the counter." He says placing the items at the first chair at the bar closest to where Mick is working.

"Yeah, S'my shop. Been here for about seven years now. Love this city."

[woundedwinter]

"Thanks."

He wraps his gloved hands around the mug and breathes in the smell. "That's amazing coffee." He'd lift heavy freight every day to have coffee like this.

"I was born here. There's nothing like home." Even after so long.

[beer_and_fire]

Mick smiles and pours himself a cup of coffee for himself. He leans back against the back counter so he can talk to Bucky easier.

The rain is falling in sheets outside but it’s nice inside. He’s not about to let James leave when the weather is like that.

“I can only imagine. This is the first place that’s ever felt even a little bit like home. I’m from Missouri originally. And if you think that coffee smells good just wait till ya taste it. I mix and blend it myself.”

[woundedwinter]

Challenge accepted. He picks up the mug and takes a sip. The moan that slips free is completely accidental and he's found his new coffee haven. "Oh my god."

He fiddles with the plate a little. "Do you have a recipe for apple cake?"

[beer_and_fire]

Mick’s smile widens and he reaches into the case pulling out a plate with little cake squares in it. He slips a piece onto the plate and then drizzles a little caramel on one corner before sliding it in front of James. He hands him a fork and a napkin and the takes a slice for himself only he covers his whole slice in caramel drizzle.

[woundedwinter]

He has it and Bucky's chest goes a little funny as Mick slides it over. He takes a bite and groans. "Sweet Jesus, man."

It's all but illegal how good that is. "I haven't had anything this good since I was a kid."

The cake takes him home in wonderful ways and he savors every bite.

[beer_and_fire]

“I bake one every evening. You decide you want one just pop in and tell me and I’ll bake two.” Mick says as he polishes off his own slice.

He sets the plate aside and then turns to start making some bread. “I love baking. All kinds of it. Bread. Cakes. Pastries.”

[woundedwinter]

"That's pretty amazing," he offers. "Bake whatever you want and I'll show up to haul freight for you." It's not much, but it would give him a sense of purpose in the morning.

Not to mention the Doc would be happy to hear that he talked to someone.

[beer_and_fire]

“Really? Sure thing.” Nick says with a wide grin. “I could use the help lifting the crates. I ain’t as young as I used to be.” He says rolling out the dough and then shaping them into perfect balls and placing them on a cookie sheet. He places the sheet in the oven and sets a timer.

After washing his hands he turns back to James. “Want a refill on coffee?” He asks before he starts making some other treats for the day.

[woundedwinter]

He snorts and rolls a shoulder because Mick is just a kid compared to him. "I don't mind helping. I don't exactly have a lot on my plate."

Well. Relatively and literally speaking because Mick's baking is the best he's ever had.

"I'll never say no to more coffee. Not when it's that good."

[beer_and_fire]

Mick smirks and tops off his cup before getting busy. "Truck usually comes in at 5:30am. If you can help great, if you can't that's always fine too. I'll gladly trade ya coffee and whatever strikes ya fancy that morning. Don't mind if you hang out around until we open at 7." He says as he puts several loaves onto a tray and covers them with a towel before placing them on the side counter to rise.

"Be right back." He says heading to the back to grab the next round of supplies and already prepped trays to bake once the rolls finish.

He makes small talk with Bucky while he works and wipes down the counters. Alana, one of his cake decorators arrives about 6:50am and smiles at Bucky in greeting. She's a matronly looking woman with greying hair and a bright smile.

"We're getting ready to open, you're welcome to hang out as long as ya want." Mick says before changing his apron and starting to turn on the dining area lights and making sure the tables are all set up.

[woundedwinter]

A place to go in the morning. A chance to feel useful. It's more than he's had since leaving Wakanda. Since Steve left.

He does his best to keep up with the small talk while Mick works. It's soothing to sit while he moves around, certain and efficient. Using his hands for creating rather than destroying.

It's nice.

"Thanks. I'd.. I think I'd like that."

[beer_and_fire]

Mick usually works the register and phones in the morning. His first student usually arrives at 1 and then he takes the rest of the day to prepare any special orders or if nothing crazy is going on he'll go upstairs and relax for a bit.

He enjoys Bucky's company and he's glad for it. He does feel a little bad that he can't talk as much once they open. It's a steady line of customers until almost 9 then it's more sporadic. Everyone's smiling and the place is full of little pockets of conversations and clinking china.

Alana comes out and buses the tables every fifteen minutes from 8-9 but the rest of the time Mick handles it.

[woundedwinter]

Early mornings are better for him anyway. Mick's place helps him shake off any lingering nightmares or at least provide warmth when he can't sleep. He doesn't need much, moving freight easily and taking payment in coffee and a few small things to eat.

It's a familiar pattern they fall into. Bucky shows up early, offloads the truck and melts into the crowd when people start to arrive. He doesn't want to distract Mick.

Naturally Doc Raynor is happy to hear that he's made some sort of connection, even if Bucky doesn't know what it means yet.

[beer_and_fire]

The routine is nice and Mick enjoys the company. What used to be some quiet time to himself has become a couple hours of good company. Sometimes there's laughter and sometimes there's comfortable quiet. He doesn't press when James is quiet just like he's glad the other doesn't when he is. It's nice. Unfortunately it's so common place now that when Bucky misses a day Mick misses his presence as well. He usually gives him extra pastries or cake slices when Bucky returns after being gone for a day or two.

It's been three months before he knows it. It's two weeks from Thanksgiving and Mick is working a lot of extra hours for the special orders he has. When Bucky arrives he asks if he minds unloading the crates by himself as he's got several batches of cakes to get into the oven before 6am.

"Oh, and we're having a small bakery team Thanksgiving dinner on Saturday. You should come."

[woundedwinter]

It's getting colder in the mornings, the last of summer giving way to fall. He isn't looking forward to winter in New York for a host of reasons, but Bucky can shove all of that down in favor of moving freight.

Cases of heavy floor, sugars and butter moved with ease and efficiency. He's even figured out how Mick stores his stuff, rotating in the milk and cream and keeping the berries closer to the cooler door.

The bakery is comfortable and he's pretty sure part of it is due to the owner. Mick is gruff and doesn't say much unless he means to.

Bucky likes that.

The offer has him freezing over by the coffee, halfway towards refilling the travel mug he bought himself. "A dinner?"

[beer_and_fire]

"Yeah. You pretty much work here and everyone knows you, you're welcome to come if ya wanna. No pressure. I can always just save you some for later if you'd rather not join us. Only gonna be about 15 of us here if you come." Mick says shrugging a shoulder like he doesn't much mind if Bucky comes or doesn't. But he does want him to come. If it's one thing Mick's learned about him the past three months is that Bucky seems lonely and he's not partial to crowds.

"Oh and this is for you." He says setting a bag of ground coffee on the counter. "It's a new blend, I'd like your opinion on it before I start serving it here."

[woundedwinter]

A party. Even if it's not technically a party as much as a dinner it's still a gathering of people. Bucky goes back to refilling his mug, screwing the lid back on slowly. He doesn't want to disappoint Mick. The guy has been nothing but understanding and nothing but good to him and he hasn't had a lot of that in his life.

"I'll try." And he will. This isn't just a placating move or any of the bullshit he feeds his therapist, he really will try for Mick and if he has to leave, he has to leave.

Slowly he picks up the coffee, tucking it inside his coat to keep it safe. "Thanks."


He's a bundle of nerves the evening of the dinner. Changes clothes a dozen times and dithers about wearing his gloves for at least ten minutes. There used to be a time when Bucky Barnes would love to get dressed to the nines and step out with friends. He's pretty sure that part of him will never come back.

The store owner promised him that it was a decent bottle of bourbon and Bucky lurks outside the front of the bakery for only a couple of minutes before he slips inside.

Okay.
He can do this.

[beer_and_fire]

Mick continues to work as if nothing has transpired. Bucky will come or he won't he will not be upset either way. He smiles at the brunette when he agrees that he'll try. That's all Mick can ever ask. And maybe it's a trick of the light or something, but Bucky's eyes seem much more blue today. Have they always been that blue?

"Let me know what you think about the coffee. Be honest now. Don't let me serve bad stuff." He jokes before slipping him a bag of fresh croissants as well. "Take these too. I made too many." Then he puts some trays inside of the oven and goes about his morning as Bucky leaves.


Saturday rolls around and Mick closes the shop early at 2pm. The entire place is transformed into an even more cozy place. The tables are pushed together to make a long banquet table. The entire place smells like Thanksgiving and pies and cinnamon and turkey. The table setting is elegant and yet simple enough to be inviting. Mick has worked very hard to make it an even more comfortable atmosphere. He's prepared desserts in the form of about half a dozen pies and the meats in the form of a perfect turkey, and a glazed ham. There's yams, green bean casserole, his ma's famous crock pot stuffing, homemade cranberry sauce, fresh biscuits, broccoli salad, roasted mixed vegetables and more.

There's a few people already there when Bucky arrives, not everyone is there yet. Mick is wearing dress slacks and a burgundy red button up with his sleeves rolled up and his spotless white apron when he spots him. "James, glad ya made it. Come on it!" He says waving at him from where he's setting the last few trays of food out on the counter where they can stay warm and ready for them to fill their plates from.

"Come grab a drink, there's some soda, tea, coffee, something a bit stronger if ya want. Everyone else should be here in a few minutes then we can say grace and eat."

[woundedwinter]

The shop looks even more warm and welcoming and Bucky finds himself drawn in, leaving the bottle on the table Mick had indicated. "The.. the place looks good. Smells good too." It drums up long dimmed memories of a far more sparing table with only a few things and a much skinnier ass bird, but still a warm sense of familiar. Home.

Oh. Right. He had something to report on. "The coffee was good. Really good."

Mick is patient with his lack of conversation skills and for that he's going to be forever grateful. Bucky slips off his jacket, leaving it close to the door. The gloves stay on, of course. He's not ready to show himself fully to everyone.

That is, until a timer goes off and another pan needs to be fished out of the oven. Mick is busy talking to someone else so Bucky reaches in with his left hand and plucks the searingly hot tray out to set on a rack.

[beer_and_fire]

Mick had been reaching for his oven gloves when Bucky simply opened the door, grabbed the pan, and put it on the rack to cool. He blinks several times before shaking his head in bemusement. "If you've been able to do that all along and have been watching me fish out hot pans for months I'm gonna be very annoyed." He chuckles before setting his mitts down. "Fish the one out the bottom when that goes off, will ya?" And just like that he leaves it alone.

If James wants to tell him why and how he can do that he will, Mick isn't one to pry and no one else had seen him do it.

"Hey Mr. James! Want some punch? Mrs. Stineback made it for us and dropped it off before we closed." Alana asked from where she was getting herself a drink. "There's no alcohol in it or anything just in case ya don't want any."

[woundedwinter]

"It's a prosthetic," he offers by way of explanation. A lame one, but it was at least the truth. He pulls out the rest for Mick when the timer goes off, careful to use oven gloves so he doesn't burn his leather ones any more than they already got singed.

There's a small smile for Alana, "Yeah, sounds good kid." He lets her lead him towards the punch, asking how she did on her latest history report. What? He might have helped her out with it too, he wants to see how well she did after listening to him talk about the past.

[beer_and_fire]

Mick nods at his explanation. He has questions sure but he's not about to ask right now nor is he planning on asking in the future. That's James' business, not his.

Alana babbles on excitedly about everything at school and thanks him profusely for his help on her paper. She pours him a drink and takes one for herself. "Cheers Mr. James." She says with a wide grin and takes a sip.

A few minutes later Mick clinks his knife against his glass. "Alright everyone. Thanks to all of ya for everything you do for this place. I appreciated all of you and I'm thankful for each and every one of ya. Now, foods ready and everyone's here, so lets eat! Grab ya plates and help ya self. There's plenty for everyone."

Mick does stand behind the counter to help with carving meats if someone wants something that isn't already cut before fixing his own plate and taking a seat near the end of the table.

[woundedwinter]

They chat for a while before she drifts off to greet someone else and Bucky can return to skirting most of the group. He feels a little more at ease there, eyes always on exits should he need to make for one. Showing up at Mick's every morning has been good for him, but he still has a lot of work to do before he feels like a functioning human again.

It's nice. The cafe is warm and friendly as ever and he even clears his plate before old anxieties start rearing up. The knives are for carving up meat but his fingers already know how easily balanced they are.

Fuck

He's got his jacket in hand, heading over to where Mick is. "Hey. I, I should go. But this was nice."

[beer_and_fire]

Mick happily enjoyed the conversation and the food and the people around him. He'd sat Bucky diagonally across from himself beside Alana so he'd easily have some people to talk too if he wanted too.

He has no idea of the others thoughts or issues beyond when he stands to leave. Mick gives him a warm smile and stands up. He nods to the other man, offers him his hand to shake. "Here, got something for ya." He moves to the back room and comes back with a little gift bag with the name James written on it in black sharpie. "Happy Thanksgiving. Thank you for all ya do around here to help me out. If you want any food to go you can grab a container and fill it up, otherwise I'll walk ya to the door." He says softly so no one else can eavesdrop on their conversation.

[woundedwinter]

He's not safe to be around. He needs to walk, he needs the quiet anonymity of the streets of New York. Bucky is jerked sharply out of his spiral when Mick hands him a bag. His brow furrows a little as he looks down at it. "You didn't have to," he reminds him.

"But thanks."

When they reach the door, he finally screws up his courage. "I was in the war," he says with absolutely no preamble. "I don't.. I'm not always the best in crowded rooms. You should go back, I'll be fine."

omg work is bugnuts....

[beer_and_fire]

James doesn't elaborate so Mick naturally assumes the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. He nods in understanding. "My pops was in 'Nam. Did a number on him too. No judgement here, James. You do whatever you need to do. See ya Monday morning. Though, if ya wanna, you're always welcome to come by tomorrow for breakfast." The Bakery wasn't open on Sunday's but since Mick lived above it he'd gladly let Bucky in and cook for him. Besides, he's found over the past few months that he really enjoys his company.

"Only if you want too though. Anytime after 6. Have a good night James, and thanks for coming." He smiles and unlocks the door for him to leave.

[woundedwinter]

He doesn't mention that he'd been in Vietnam as well, only nodding gratefully at the way Mick accepts what he told him. "Tomorrow. I'll.. I'll do my best." Having a purpose, even if it's something as simple as coming by a friend's place, should be enough to get him back to his place and settled in.

Bucky keeps the bag tucked in close and as he steps out he pauses and reaches out to squeeze his arm. "Thanks Mick. For everything." For being patient with him. For giving a shit. Everything.

[beer_and_fire]

Mick grins and nods at him as he watches James leave. He waits at the door until he's a good ways down the street before shutting the door and heading back into the party.

It's a lovely evening and everyone helps clean up afterwards before they head home. Mick locks up and heads upstairs mind on James and thinking about what he might be able to do to help him. An hour later and all he can think about is what he'd already been doing, just making him feel comfortable and accepted.

He falls asleep hoping that James will come for breakfast in the morning.

[woundedwinter]

He doesn't go immediately back to his apartment. Instead he walks, letting the familiar sounds of traffic and city noise lull his senses back to a state that almost feels calm. While it's not perfect, it helps and when he gets back, Bucky sets the gift from Mick on his kitchen counter, next to the travel mug he'd bought specifically for visits to the cafe.

They wanted him there. Cared about him. He hadn't felt that in a long damn time and while it was taking some getting used to, it was nice.

Sleeping is always a questionable affair. He can't sleep in bed, it's far too soft. However he does manage a few solid hours in his usual spot on the floor, buoyed by the promise of breakfast over at Mick's.

Bucky wakes up early, like always, but instead of walking towards the cafe he heads to his own kitchen. He might not be a master chef like Mick Rory but his Ma didn't raise any slouch and she'd damn well taught him not to arrive at someone's house empty handed.

Less than an hour later he's got a basket of still warm from the oven biscuits covered loosely in one hand. Not exactly fancy, but it's one of the recipes he can still remember from when he was a kid.

I'm sorry. I'd like to keep going even though I'm slow as molasses. But only if you wanna.

[beer_and_fire]

Mick slept like a rock. A full belly and soul from the night before had left him content in more ways than he could count. He's up at 6 in the kitchen working on some things for the shop the next day as well as starting on breakfast for himself and James.

He's got fresh ground sausage, fried potatoes, some thick cut pork belly instead of bacon as he'd needed some for a recipe and had extra. There's also fresh fruit and of course a few fresh pastries he'd been experimenting with. He's waiting to see if James arrives before he makes the eggs. They're never good reheated.

He's reading the paper and sipping some coffee when the bell jingles and the other man walks in, locking the door behind him. Mick's face is warm and welcome, bright with the joy that James actually came.

"Morning, James. Come on in and grab some coffee, breakfast is almost ready."

Always. I'll tag back forever.

[woundedwinter]

The place smells like heaven, but it always does. Still, it's not the comforting smells of food or the warm atmosphere that is far more welcoming than his cold and empty apartment. It's the people. It's the way that Mick brightens when he sees him, the way that he's happy to see him around even if he doesn't know who he is.

He needs to come clean.
Mick needs to know in case someone comes looking for him, in case someone tries to use this place against him in a fucked up attempt at recapturing the Asset.

"Smells good in here." He sets down the basket and slides it over to him. "My Ma, she always taught me not to come empty handed when you're invited. They aren't much, but it's one of the few recipes I still remember."

[beer_and_fire]

Mick is getting ready to crack some eggs on the flat grill top when his guest sets the basket on the counter. He smirks, grabs a biscuit and bites into it with little preamble. He chews then looks at James with a raised eyebrow.

"You been holding out on me. You best be careful or I'm gonna have you working in the back every morning. These are delicious." He says honestly because it is. It's perfect. Better than his even in his opinion. "How many eggs you want?"

[woundedwinter]

He goes still, eyes widening as Mick accuses him of holding out on him, at least until he realizes it's because of the biscuits and nothing else.

"Ah, five?" He's not sure how hungry he is, but he knows that he needs to get this out now before he loses his nerve. "There's something I need to talk to you about. About me."

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, "My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I was born in 1917. For seventy years I was under the control of HYDRA. I.. I was the Winter Soldier." Mick might not know that much about HYDRA, but the Winter Soldier had been in the news over the last few years, since the bombing at the UN, his pardon after the final fight with Thanos.

[beer_and_fire]

Mick goes to crack the eggs but then Bucky's words stop him. He sets the egg in his hand down and turns back to face his friend sensing that whatever was coming deserved his undivided attention. Especially if it's making him this anxious.

He listens, doesn't interrupt or try to rush him through what he's saying. He takes it in and lets it process. James Barnes. Born 1917. The Winter Soldier...the UN bombing. They blamed it on him. He lets his eyes travel over as much of James as he could see and after several minutes of silence, which was probably more uncomfortable for James than him, he spoke.

"That Captain America guys friend. Right? Huh. Well...guess I shouldn't feel bad for thinkin' you're too young for me now." He says before turning back to start on the eggs. "Pull up a chair, food'll be ready soon." He doesn't feel the need to ask questions or details. He remembers hearing about the trial. A POW for almost 80 years. Pardoned. Gets a second chance. Mick remembers thinking the best thing people can do is leave him be, he's been through enough.

[woundedwinter]

His jaw works for a moment because out of all of the reactions he'd anticipated, this clearly wasn't one of them. When you tell someone you're an ex-international assassin, the reaction shouldn't be as blase as talking about the weather, shouldn't it?

So he pulls up a chair because Mick said to and stares into his coffee.

It's a good few minutes of quiet as Mick works and Bucky is lost in his own head before he blinks hard, eyes sharp and focused on Mick. "Wait. You thought I was too young for you?"

[beer_and_fire]

Mick sets two plates, Bucky's with five eggs on it, his own with two, on the bar with all the rest of the food he'd made. He's coming around to join him when Bucky looks up sharply and seems confused as he asks his question. Mick doesn't hide the laugh that bubbles up out of him.

"Well yeah. Figured you had to be early twenties...maybe mid-twenties. I'm turning 40 at the end of the year." Mick says sitting beside him and starting to spoon potatoes and grab pieces of sausage and bacon onto his plate. "Eat up while it's good and hot."

[woundedwinter]

"I'm over a hundred," he points out, still a little confused. "I was born in 1918."

He pokes at the food with his fork, "So.. it doesn't bother you? Who I was?" Bucky needs to know, he needs to be sure that Mick understands how dangerous it is to be around him.

The rest? He can process later. It's not like Mick is the first guy he's ever been interested in.

[beer_and_fire]

"No. Not really. I'm more interested in who you are now. We all got a past, James. Some bad, some good. Your past...your past seems truly fucked up and I'm sorry it happened to you. But you're still here. You survived. That's something I think you should celebrate. I can't judge you for mistakes you made or things you were forced to do. I don't claim to know much about that psycho-babble shit but I know them shrinks on TV said you were brainwashed, that you didn't have a choice. Course it don't do nothing about the guilt you seem to got, but I ain't gonna judge you for it." He says sipping his coffee. "I like being around you, having you here. If you wanna keep coming around I'd really like that but if you wanna leave too I won't be angry. Sad yeah, but not angry. You gotta take care of yourself, whatever that looks like."

[woundedwinter]

It doesn't bother him. Knowing that he's cooking breakfast for the ex-Winter Soldier doesn't so much as make Mick pause. He looks down in his coffee again, trying to keep his breathing measured.

"I don't want to go. I won't." He steels himself with a swallow. "I've been watching the block, making sure HYDRA hasn't found any way in." And stopped three muggings, but whatever. "I don't want who I was to put any of you at risk."