The apartment was quiet, the TV’s news reports and lack-luster shows (in Bucky’s opinion, anyway) were becoming slightly mind-numbing. A little thought had popped into his head. You were out and working, and he was feeling a tad lonely.

After a short walk, he had ended up just outside the doors of a quaint New York bookstore, where you were correctly working your shift. He opened the door and stepped inside, taking a moment to look around and admire the various books shelved around him. He headed over to the front counter, leaning against it as you were busy organising a few books that had been previously returned to be put back on the shelves.

“Looking quiet today, huh?” He piped up, snapping you out of your task.