Chapter Text
“I can assure you that this collaboration is very important to Mr. Stark, Sir. I am not sure why the proposal was rescheduled again , but I promise that the next one will not be.”
She was late. Nearly twenty minutes at this point. Her to do list was quickly piling up as were the number of emails and phone calls she would have to return. She’d only been working at her new job for three days and she was already feeling a bit overwhelmed and dealing with imposter syndrome.
She weaved through the strangers entering Stark Technologies Inc., in hurried strides, her heels clicking on the floor, balancing her workcell between her ear and shoulder, her work ipad in one hand with a cup of coffee balanced precariously on top, and her personal phone in the other. She flashed the badge clipped to her blouse to security and continued to the elevator.
She was now twenty minutes late, to a meeting she was supposed to be heading.
The need for coffee had outweighed her need to be on time, after a late night going over various projects and proposals, the various projects and proposals she would be discussing in the very meeting she was late for. She’d barely gotten four hours of sleep, and had fallen asleep before setting her alarm, only to be woken by a disgruntled driver honking repeatedly outside of her window. She’d woken up with barely an hour to get dressed and go to work.
Jasmine, her best friend and college roommate, was texting her, asking her if she’d made that tinder account yet. She had little interest in the idea of dating, least of all finding someone on tinder. She had a new job to make a good first impression at, a new apartment to unpack and furnish, and multiple projects and employees to get familiar with, and while a night out on the town with a man did sound fun, she knew better.
The CEO of the newest up and coming tech company who was interested in collaborating with Stark Tech sighed on the phone. She didn’t know what the project was exactly that they wanted to collaborate on, she hadn’t gotten to that file yet, and Stark Technologies had their hands in many projects from simple app development to advanced robots and even agricultural endeavors, but she knew that it would make Stark Tech look good and that was part of her job as a the lead project manager. The proposal meeting had been rescheduled a third time now and she was going to have to track Tony Stark down and find out why exactly. After she finally read the file.
“I’ll have my secretary schedule it again , but tell Mr. Stark if he does this one more time my feelings will certainly be hurt,” he answered finally.
Simone gave a silent sigh of relief. “Thank you, Sir. I will definitely let Mr. Stark know.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries and goodbyes before she hung up, looking down to see another text message from Jasmine. She stopped at the elevator, and pressed the up button.
[Jaz 8:37 am]: You can’t just work yourself to death. You need a life.
Simone rolled her eyes, beginning to text back. The elevator dinged and she heard the sound of the doors opening. She unconsciously moved to step forward.
I do have a life which includes a job. A job I need to focus on. And I don’t need an app to get dic-.
She walked into a wall, or at least something that felt like a wall. She hit hard, halting her strides, letting out a surprised yelp as she bounced off the wall and felt the splash of hot coffee on her blouse, files, tablet and phones. She barely managed to stay standing and keep a hold on her belongings, watching the cup and its lid clatter to the floor.
“For fucks sake-,” she started angrily looking up to see what she had hit and freezing when she saw blue eyes looking down at her. Her sentence trailed off and her stomach sunk.
Steve Rogers, COO of Stark Technologies Inc., stood before her, broad and impossibly handsome, and his navy blue suit with a crisp white under shirt and matching navy blue tie covered in her mocha latte with soy milk. His hair was a perfect wave combed back from his face, his full beard manicured and expertly trimmed. He was holding his phone to his ear, no doubt engrossed in his conversation which perhaps is why he hadn’t noticed her. They hadn’t officially met yet, but she’d know him anywhere, she’d seen his photo dozens of times in magazines and during her own research before she had applied to this job she thought she’d never actually get.
Nadia, Steve’s assistant, a short blonde woman, her hair in a tight neat bun, wearing a pressed pant suit and an airpod pro in her ear stepped out from behind him, her jaw dropping at the sight.
“Oh god- someone call janitorial quickly!” She yelled out at no one in particular.
Simone was still frozen, stunned by the fact that this was how she was meeting the man who ran the company she worked for and the fact that he was far more handsome than his pictures showed. His pictures didn’t do him justice. She blinked up at Steve as his piercing blue eyes gave her an appreciative sweep and then looked down at his suit. Her heart thudded, waiting for him to yell, to call her clumsy, to fire her. She hadn’t heard much about him, but she had heard from coworkers that he was no nonsense in the workplace. He was serious about the company that he and Tony shared.
“Tony, I’ll call you back.” He hung up the phone and spread his arms looking at the coffee dripping down his suit once more. He looked at her again with an arched eyebrow, opening his mouth to speak when Nadia appeared between them wiping him down with white towels. Someone had heard Nadia’s desperate call for janitorial after all.
“This is ruined, absolutely ruined, I’ll have to get your back up suit. We will be late for your meeting now,” Nadia grumbled, still aggressively wiping, though she paused long enough to pass Simone an irritated glare over her shoulder.
Simone finally found her voice and ability to move her mouth. “Mr. Rogers, I am so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention-.”
“ That is apparent,” Nadia interjected. Simone struggled to keep from glaring daggers at her.
Steve bristled under Nadia’s attention, raising his hands in a surrendering motion. “Nadia- please. Nadia, stop . Thank you.”
Nadia reluctantly ceased her fussing and stepped aside, Steve’s eyes finding Simone once more. They made another sweep of her, not in anger or even frustration to her surprise. He pulled a handkerchief from his inside pocket. “There’s no need to apologize, it was my fault.” His voice was stern, but soft. Nadia was still scowling and glaring. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet. You must be Simone.” He offered her the handkerchief.
She hesitated, surprised he knew of her and eyeing the handkerchief.
“You have coffee…everywhere,” he looked at the handkerchief and then back at her and offered it again.
She was still frozen for some reason, eyes darting between the handkerchief and the ocean of blue in his eyes.
“ Take the handkerchief, Simone,” he added when she did nothing.
She blinked at the command, her body springing to action finally. She shifted some items in her arms to take the cloth. “T-Thank you. Yes I’m Simone, Simone Russet.”
He watched with amusement shining in his eyes, though none showed on his face, while she wiped her own neck and face with the cloth wondering how much coffee she was going to have to wash out of her braids later and if her blouse was in any way salvageable. She had no time to return to her apartment and she did not want to send her assistant across town to get her a shirt from her closet.
“Again, I am so sorry about this. Not exactly the first impression I intended to make,” she chuckled nervously, dabbing her neck that felt hot and sticky. “Please send me the dry cleaning bill and I will-.”
“Simone, do not apologize. It was nice to meet you, I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you,” he cut in, stepping past her. Simone noticed Nadia’s frown at his words. “And don’t worry about the suit, it’s one of many.”
Simone watched him walk away, unsure of the interaction. And realized that she was still holding his handkerchief.
She was still somehow employed by the end of the week, sure that she would no doubt go to her new corner office and find a pink slip on her desk indicating she was fired for spilling her coffee all over the suit of the COO that probably cost more than she made in a month. Even though he had told her not to worry about it, she still reached out to Nadia for the cost for the dry cleaning of the suit and wrote a check addressed to Steve Rogers to cover it and slipped it into his inbox. She included his handkerchief, easily identifiable by the monogrammed SR stitched into the corner, which she’d washed and pressed, with the check. She’d received no thank you or response from Nadia, but her conscience was now clear.
She’d continued to battle imposter syndrome all week though she knew she was qualified, she had a bachelor’s degree from MIT, had years of experience in the technology field, and while the field was male dominated she’d been chosen as a lead project manager for Stark Tech instead of the hundreds of other applicants. Despite the imposter syndrome she felt proud about her first week, she’d gotten a chance to meet with Tony and had received positive feedback which had only made her more excited for the next week.
“Can we talk about how you’ve been in New York for almost a month and you haven’t even unpacked your apartment yet?” Jasmine quipped, leaning closer to the camera, eyes darting back and forth to take in the state of her apartment.
Simone frowned, pausing in pouring her glass of wine and looking at her friend's face on her MacBook screen. “Excuse me, I have been busy as hell, give a girl a break.”
Jasmine chuckled sipping from her own glass. They’d been the best of friends since becoming roommates in college and continuing to live together after college. Simone moving from San Francisco to New York to take her new job had put some distance into their decade long friendship, but they talked as much as they had when they were roommates through facetime and text.
“I’m just saying how long you gonna be livin’ out of boxes?” She pushed her glasses up her nose and gave Simone her ‘I’m judging you eyes’.
Simone took her glass and MacBook to the couch, setting her MacBook on the moving boxes she was currently using as a coffee table till the one she ordered arrived. “So we’re just going to act like it didn’t take you 6 months to unpack when we moved into our first apartment?”
Jasmine sipped from her glass again. “We’re not talking about me.”
Simone gave her new apartment a cursory glance. There were still boxes everywhere, some unpacked and some not even opened, still sitting where the movers had set them. She’d only unpacked the essentials, her clothes, toiletries, and one bowl, plate, cup, wine glass, fork, spoon and knife. She’d been so engrossed with making a good first impression at work, with familiarizing herself with everything necessary for her job, that unpacking had been the last thing on her mind.
“I’ll get to it eventually,” she said more to herself than Jasmine.
“And how are things at work?”
“I’m not fired so there’s that,” she sighed. She had of course told Jasmine all the details of her encounter with Steve Rogers.
“He can’t fire you for accidentally bumping into him. You apologized and you paid for the dry cleaning. Did he ever thank you?”
“No, and I do not expect him to. Nadia probably didn’t even tell him what I did. And with as much money as he makes he probably wouldn’t notice the measly thirty dollars I reimbursed him for the bill. Hopefully he doesn’t remember the incident.”
“Didn’t he say ‘I hope I’ll see you around’ or whatever? I doubt he’s forgetting you with the way you said he was looking at you.”
Simone balked. “I said no such thing.”
“You said he was looking you up and down.”
“Yes, in a ‘this clumsy ass girl who doesn’t pay attention to where shes going because shes too busy texting back her friend about stupid Tinder’ way, not a sexual way.” At least Simone didn’t think it was…
“Speaking of Tinder, when are you gonna do that?”
“For the last time, I am not interested,” Simone groaned.
She’d been in relationships before, two of which had been long term, both had ended amicably, but she had decided to focus on her career, to get herself to a good position before she focused on anything else. And even though Jasmine was constantly chiding her about becoming a workaholic, and her mother was breathing down her neck, reminding her that she wasn’t getting younger nor was her uterus, her interest in men and family came second to her career for now. A man and kids, maybe a kid she was still undecided on that, could come later.
“Once I get into a good groove at work and get familiar with where the hell I live I’ll start thinking about getting a man,” she finished.
“You don’t have to be in a good groove at work and be familiar with where you live to get dick,” Jasmine rolled her eyes.
“And if I do get a man it will definitely not be because I met some guy off a nasty app.”
Jasmine huffed. “People find loving relationships on Tinder.”
“Yeah then why is it known as the casual hookup app?”
“Don’t knock it till you try it.”
Simone’s jaw dropped, sitting up straighter, watching her friend take an innocent gulp of her wine. “Don’t tell me you’re so downbad you went and got some Tinder dick?”
Her Cheshire cat grin told Simone all she needed to know.
“You nasty-.”
Simone’s playfully teasing reply was cut off by the ringing of her doorbell. Jasmine perked up on the screen.
“You expecting someone?”
“No, hold on,” Simone answered. “If I scream, call 911.”
She rose from the couch and approached the door cautiously, all the warnings her mother had told her about the dangers of living in New York as a single woman echoing in her mind. Her door did not have a peephole, something she should have noted beforehand and suddenly made her feel uneasy. Still she unlocked the door and opened it enough to peek one eye out, leaving the chain in place.
A man she’d never seen before stood on the other side. A fine man she’d never seen before. His hair was dark brown and long enough apparently to be pulled back into a bun and steel blue eyes stared expectantly at her. Stubble lined his perfect square jaw and red Henley adorned the broad muscular expanse of his chest. Military dog tags hung from a chain around his neck. When she managed to tear her eyes from his handsome face and upper body she looked down to see he had a toolbox in his left hand which was gloved. He arched an eyebrow at her, noticing her extended, and silent, appraisal of him.
Her throat immediately went dry and she had to swallow to be able to speak. “Can I help you?”
He gave a small disarming smile. “Yes ma’am, I’m here to fix your disposal. I got a phone call that it wasn't working properly?” He answered, digging into his pocket and pulling out a slip that she spotted her name and apartment number on, as well as the apartment company’s logo. “Are you Simone?”
The tension eased a little and she opened the door a little wider, as far as the chain would allow, now reminded of the service request she’d put in over a week ago. “Yes, I called about that a week ago.”
“Well this is my sixth attempt at coming over, you aren’t home a lot.”
She hesitated. She’d been spending long days at work, not getting home well into the evening, something she hadn’t taken into consideration. “Right, sorry, come in.”
She shut the door and removed the chain before reopening it. She stepped back, abruptly feeling self conscious about the state of her apartment and let him in. He walked into the apartment, gave it a onceover, heading straight for the kitchen like he was familiar with the place and setting his toolbox on the floor right by the sink. She went for her laptop and found Jasmine typing on her phone.
“Hey, the handyman is here-.”
“Handyman you say? What kind of handyman?”
“The kind that fixes garbage disposals, can I-?”
“Does he lay pipe?” Jasmine questioned with an over the top wiggling of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.
Simone sighed, choosing to ignore her joke. “Can I call you back?”
“We both know you aren’t calling back tonight,” She answered with a knowing frown.
“You’re right. I do have some work to do. I’ll call tomorrow,” Simone admitted.
Jasmine stared at her blankly. Unbelieving.
“I will. I promise I will call,” Simone insisted.
“Mm hmm. Sure. Don’t overwork yourself. Get some sleep tonight.” It was said with the same lovingly stern tone her mother would use on her.
“I will. I will.”
Jasmine looked incredulous, but let it go. “Love you. Bye.”
“Love you too.”
The handyman, who she realized had yet to give a name, was under the sink by the time she stepped into the kitchen. The only thing visible being his torso and his long jean clad legs. His shirt had ridden up during his efforts, revealing a peek of his smooth stomach. Simone consciously chose to ignore that, she wasn’t that downbad that she would be lusting after the handyman.
“I didn’t catch your name?” She called, leaning against the counter.
“It’s James Barnes, ma’am,” he grunted. His legs shifted, one bending to give him some leverage. She heard the sounds of metal against metal. “But you can call me Bucky.”
“Are you the…main…handyman here?” She asked.
James, or rather Bucky as he apparently liked to be called, uttered a soft curse and one arm leaned out blindly to reach into his toolbox. “I’m the only handyman ma’am. I own the building.”
Simone blinked. “You own the building?”
He found the right tool he was looking for and his arm disappeared back under the sink. “Yes ma’am,” he answered absently.
That information surprised her. Her apartments were considered intimate and luxury apartments, meaning there weren’t many units and they offered spacious apartments with high end appliances for an exorbitant amount of rent. It was also close to Stark Tech, a gym, and a park, and many restaurants and had a good neighborhood score on the walkable site. But while there weren’t a lot of units she found it hard to believe that he was capable of tending to all 50 units in the building, let alone owning it.
“You move in recently?” he asked.
“About a month ago.” She stepped further into the kitchen, leaning against the opposite counter allowing her to see him in the cupboard. He paused in what he was doing for a second, just to take note of her and continued his wrenching.
“Slow unpacker?” he quipped, his lips curving into a small smile.
Had it not been for that joking smile she might have felt offended. “As you noticed I work alot…”
He nodded. “Right. You new to New York?”
“I grew up in San Francisco,” she answered. “All my family and friends are there. I moved here for a new job.”
Bucky gave a mildly interested hum in answer and continued his work.
“Well it’s nice to meet you,” she offered, wondering why she felt the need to make small talk with him. He didn’t need a supervisor, he owned the building after all. “I have work to do but if you need me I’ll just be in my bedroom.”
“Okay ma’am.”
She retrieved her laptop from her makeshift coffee table and headed for her bedroom. She crawled into her bed, moving aside work stuff that had become a permanent fixture on her bed and poured herself into her work emails. She got so engrossed that the ringing of her phone startled her. It was a facetime from Jasmine.
Jasmine spoke before she could get a word in. “GO TO BED.”
Simone rolled her eyes. “I am. I am! I’m waiting for Bucky to finish and then I will.”
Jasmine was lying in her own bed, leaned back into her pillows, bonnet in place looking ready for bed herself. She frowned. “Who the hell is Bucky?”
“The handyman? Remember he came over earlier?”
“God, he’s still there? And you’re on a first name basis?”
“He apparently owns the building and does all the maintenance work himself,” Simone answered, closing her macbook and pushing it away. She leaned back onto her lush pillows, the tiredness finally catching up to her.
“And how cute is this handyman on a scale from 1- Michael B. Jordan?” Jasmine questioned.
“I mean he’s pretty fine for a white guy.”
Jasmine was sitting up with interest bright in her eyes. “Okay, tell me more.”
Simone hesitated, not wanting to feed into whatever fantasy Jasmine was trying to create for her. “Don’t start.”
“You’re the one who said he was pretty fine!”
“ You asked! Next thing you know you’re going to be trying to make me ask out my landlord.”
“Simi, you are going to develop cobwebs and bats and shit down there if you don’t get some-.”
Someone cleared their throat, cutting off Jasmine’s rant and Simone looked up to find Bucky standing in her bedroom doorway. She sat up from where she was reclined, panic and embarrassment seizing her while she wondered just how much he had heard. And then Jasmine’s voice broke through her panic as she continued.
“So before you get too desperate, maybe get some casual dick from your Hot Landlord-.”
“JAZ, I WILL CALL YOU BACK,” Simone said loudly over her talking, hoping to block out anything Bucky might hear and hanging up.
She tossed her phone away. “Sorry, I was-,” she didn't want to explain how she was just telling her friend that he was hot. She shook her head. “Did you need something?”
If he had heard her and Jasmine’s conversation, he made no indication save for the amused smile on his lips. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m done for the night,” he apologized.
She straightened, slipping off the bed, suddenly aware that her room, like the rest of her apartment, was a mess. It looked like a moving company and her job had thrown up in her bedroom. She pushed her braids over her shoulder and crossed her arms nervously.
“Great. Everything in working order?”
Bucky sighed, his face falling and his free hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck, this made his shirt rise again, exposing his stomach. Simone ignored that again.
“You need a new disposal and I won’t have one until Monday. But I’d like to come back to take the old one out soon. Will you be home tomorrow?”
She hadn’t planned to be, though it was Sunday, she had planned to go into the office, even though it would be technically closed and get a jumpstart on the next week.
“Umm, sure, I can be home? What time?”
“Probably sometime in the afternoon. I can give you a call before I come by,” he set his toolbox down and reached into his back pocket, withdrawing his wallet and handing her a card. She thought she saw a glint of metal on his wrist between the long sleeved tee he wore and the glove when he handed it to her. “My personal number is on there, if you won’t be home or things change just give me a call.”
“Okay then.” She tucked the card into her jeans pocket and looked up to find Bucky’s eyes traveling down the length of her body.
When he locked eyes with her again, he blinked as though he’d been caught doing something wrong and picked up his tool box.
“Is there anything else that I can do for you?” He asked.
His voice had dropped a couple octaves, something that made a surprising heat race up her spine. Surprised to find herself thinking, yes there were a few things that he could do for her, none that would be appropriate for them having just met. And despite what Jasmine said she was not that desperate. (Yet). She shook her head as the thoughts raced through her head.
She cleared her throat. “No, thank you. That was everything.”
Bucky nodded, giving her another once over. She shifted under his gaze. “Okay then.”
She followed him to the door, noticing how broad his shoulders were and how his tight shirt outlined the muscles in his back, when he paused just before reaching the door and turned to her.
“Do you live alone, Simone?” he asked, arching one eyebrow in concern.
She paused, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why do you ask?” He didn’t give her a creepy vibe, but still she was on alert.
“If I have tenants that are women who live alone I like to know, just to help keep an eye on them,” he explained, taking another glance around her apartment. He noticed her questioning frown. “Not in a creepy way. Just because the city is dangerous and I just like to be aware in case something happens to you or you’re being bothered.”
Simone nodded. “Well that’s nice of you. I do live alone, but I have pepper spray.”
Bucky smirked. “Right, pepper spray. Well, you have my number now. If someone is bothering you or you notice anything weird around the building you give me a call okay? I want all my tenants to feel comfortable.”
He put emphasis on the word comfortable , his eyes taking another sweep of her, this time she felt a surprising heat warm in her belly at his gaze. She ignored that too.
“Goodnight Simone,” Bucky said, gaze finally relenting, pulling the door open and slipping out.
She made sure the door was secured and locked, chain in place before returning to her bedroom, still consciously ignoring the lingering warmth in her belly. She was not going to be lusting after the hot handyman, who technically owned her apartment.
This was not going to be a thing.