Stucky Prompts

4 - Your Service

Being the son of a multimillionaire could lead to some clichéd times. Kidnappings, scandals, ransoms.

When Bucky had been eighteen, he would've definitely been worried -- but, seeing as five years had passed since then and he was now an adult with a small library and a couple many thousands of his own, he didn't see the need to be worried.

His mother, on the other hand, did.

"You've got everything you need in the proper bank accounts, yes?" She was frantic as she darted about his apartment. He was moving away to America from Romania to secure the building he'd bought -- owning his own little library, it was tricky to relocate across the world and still be known to the public.

Thankfully, luck and a lot of money were on his side.

"desigur mama mea." Of course, mother. He kissed the side of her head and stopped her anxious puttering. With a resigned sigh, she pulled him into a hug and scanned his apartment. "It'll be fine," he said, reminding himself to use English whenever possible. Romanian in the U.S. would unfortunately not be as welcome.

She clicked her tongue and looked up at him. "Be safe, James."

"Always, mom."

////

His library was... small. Sitting cross-legged on the counter, Bucky fixed his short hair distractedly and studied the small space. Cosy, he'd made sure there were enough soft seats, benches and round tables. Two fireplaces were in the shop, and there was an upstairs lounge balcony -- too small for more than six people, but easily accessible and warm.

He was proud of what he'd built from scratch. Smiling and nodding once, he slid off the counter and got to work preparing to open.

His phone started buzzing on the mahogany desk and he grabbed it. "Hello?"

"James, I've hired a man for you. To protect you. His name is Rogers, you will know him when you see him -- "

"I do not need a babysitter, mom," he sighed, exasperated. He paced across the floor and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Femeie paranoidă," paranoid woman, he muttered and she scoffed.

"I worry, my son," she said in a pleading voice. "At least listen. I cannot have you getting hurt or killed in another country when I am not there."

He was quiet as he pondered this, and finally heaved a sigh. "Does he have a first name?"

She sounded brighter as she answered. "Steven Rogers. He will protect you, James."

"mulțumesc," thank you, he replied. "I'll call you later, okay? I'll be fine."

"Love you, James."

He smiled a little. "I love you too." Hanging up, he walked to the front door and flicked the lights on, then turned the sign to "Open for Business".

He couldn't wait to start the day.

////

Steve Rogers frowned down at the report in his hands, gazing over the face of the man: James Buchanan Barnes. Worth millions through family ties and coming from Romania, many had already caught eye of this quiet man who ran a library down in Brooklyn.

"Today's the day?" Natasha straddled a chair and looked at him. He nodded and dropped the file on the table, leaned back and ran his hands over his face, thinking. "Funny it's Brooklyn. Back to your old stomping grounds, huh?"

"Haven't been in years," he mused and looked at her. "Anything we got on this guy's personality?"

She hummed in thought. "Quiet, no known pressure points, bilingual... "