When Sam told him about the date he'd set up for them, Bucky was a little perturbed, which turned into a mild panic the closer they got to the actual day. There was no way out of it and after several pep talks by his best friend and having it pointed out that she was the best person to go with given how well they get along.
He had a point that even Bucky couldn't argue.
The restaurant didn't take him long to get to given it was in Brooklyn and he knows there's a joke behind it given how it was literally less than a 10-minute walk from where he was now living. So, he arrives a few minutes early, dressed in what he'd consider first date (was it a date?) attire and waits nervously at one of the tables beside the wall.
It took a bit longer than 10 minutes to get to Brooklyn from SHIELD HQ, but Daisy doesn't mind. She takes the subway rather than call a cab or use a 'company' car, enjoying the solitude among the masses. With her hair curled, earbuds in, and sunglasses on, she even manages some anonymity in the crowd and gets to skip the usual round of recognition and requests for photos.
She'd never planned on being a superhero, complete with action figures and posters on kids' walls, but her life never really had gone according to plan.
The restaurant isn't hard to find, and, when she catches sight of it, she's impressed. Her opinion of it rises even higher when she steps inside. It's warm and cozy, intimate without feeling forced. There's an almost rustic feel to it, but in a classy way that feels like old-world chic. And when she sees Bucky waiting there looking like he's ready to launch himself through one of the windows—
Damn if she doesn't find that endearing.
"Hey there, old-timer," she teases affectionately when she reaches the table, a little black purse in one hand into which her sunglasses have disappeared. "You never said you clean up this nice. I think you've been holding out on me."
He wasn't going to tell her that he had to request the aid of someone to help him with what to wear. Going on a date back in the '40s wasn't much different, all in all. But being out of the game for nearly eighty years meant learning about what had changed and fashion was definitely something that had changed.
Bucky gets up and grins, shaking his head. Yes, his cheeks might be a little pink after the compliment he was paid.
"It was a toss-up between this and wearing an argyle sweater with suspenders. You're welcome." he shoots back playfully, waiting for her to sit. Daisy will no doubt be able to tell the kind of gentleman he was back then.
"And look at you..." Bucky looks her over. "You look amazing."
During the time they've worked together, Daisy has gotten a pretty good idea of the type of man Bucky Barnes is. He's been through more pain than anyone should ever have to endure, yet he's still a genuinely good man. She's seen him help people without hesitation, in big ways and small, and there are little gestures here and there that hint at the time he'd grown up in. Having been to both the 1930s and 1950s, she thinks it's clear that he picked up the better parts of the era.
But even knowing that he's still a gentleman at heart, it sets something in her chest fluttering when he stands and waits for her to sit like that. And when he compliments her in return... Well, he's not the only one who's smiling and turning a subtle shade of pink.
"It must be the shower," she replies in her own playful tone, needing something to distract from how flustered she's suddenly feeling. "I should really try that more often. You know I'm usually a huge slob."
(She isn't, at least not in her appearance. Her room at the base, however...)
"It must be," he agrees, giving her a smirk and a nod. Once they are sitting, the server comes by with two wine glasses and a couple of menus as well as a wine list. He does his spiel of the specials and wanders off to give them time to decide.
Of course, it was a little easier when they were out on missions to talk and tease and banter away like the three of them did. That seems to come easier than this and within moments of his last words, he's already trying to figure out where to navigate the conversation.
"I hope you like Italian. I wasn't even sure what I liked and then... " Bucky slides a menu over and opens it up. "It's like the reservation made itself."
Fun fact: This is the first actual date that Daisy Johnson has ever been on. If you didn't count celebratory 2am burgers after a 12-hour hacking session, which had ended in copious amounts of alcohol and some questionable decisions. This is the complete opposite of that, and she can't help but be a bit nervous.
Which is ridiculous. She's faced aliens and killer robots and the end of the world, but sitting in a nice restaurant with a nice guy is what makes her nervous? Get it together, Johnson.
"Just like magic," she comments with a knowing smile. Who knew the new Captain America liked to play matchmaker. "But I do like Italian, yes. A lot. I'm not a picky eater in general, but it's up there on my favorites list."
She picks up the wine list and gives it a comical grimace before exchanging it for a menu. "I will admit that I have no idea what to do with that, though."
Bucky laughs, only slightly awkward. He's pretty sure she knows, but the fact she's not saying anything and is seemingly okay with it, puts him a little more at ease.
"Yeah," he looks at the drink menu. "I guess we're going to be the only ones in here drinking something different. Beer?"
It's getting easier. The atmosphere is helping but Daisy is making things relaxed and normal and without that, he's pretty sure he would have botched the whole thing and took off without a word.
If it had been anyone else behind this arrangement, she might have minded. Daisy is very particular about being in control of her own life. Sam, though — he's a friend, an unexpectedly good one, and that changes everything.
"Oh god yes," she answers with a relieved laugh, glad they won't be bumbling their way through trying to choose a 'proper' wine. "Beer is much more my speed."
She's quiet for a moment, her mind whirring a mile a minute as she tries to settle on a topic, before she finally lowers the menu she'd been pretending to study. "Cards on the table? This is the first date I've ever been on."
It's not something she'd specifically planned on sharing, but she's less worried about possibly being teased for her inexperience than she is concerned that he feels comfortable. He's had to adjust to so much that if she can help in even some small way, she will.
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no subject
He had a point that even Bucky couldn't argue.
The restaurant didn't take him long to get to given it was in Brooklyn and he knows there's a joke behind it given how it was literally less than a 10-minute walk from where he was now living. So, he arrives a few minutes early, dressed in what he'd consider first date (was it a date?) attire and waits nervously at one of the tables beside the wall.
no subject
She'd never planned on being a superhero, complete with action figures and posters on kids' walls, but her life never really had gone according to plan.
The restaurant isn't hard to find, and, when she catches sight of it, she's impressed. Her opinion of it rises even higher when she steps inside. It's warm and cozy, intimate without feeling forced. There's an almost rustic feel to it, but in a classy way that feels like old-world chic. And when she sees Bucky waiting there looking like he's ready to launch himself through one of the windows—
Damn if she doesn't find that endearing.
"Hey there, old-timer," she teases affectionately when she reaches the table, a little black purse in one hand into which her sunglasses have disappeared. "You never said you clean up this nice. I think you've been holding out on me."
Because wow. Just... wow.
no subject
Bucky gets up and grins, shaking his head. Yes, his cheeks might be a little pink after the compliment he was paid.
"It was a toss-up between this and wearing an argyle sweater with suspenders. You're welcome." he shoots back playfully, waiting for her to sit. Daisy will no doubt be able to tell the kind of gentleman he was back then.
"And look at you..." Bucky looks her over. "You look amazing."
no subject
But even knowing that he's still a gentleman at heart, it sets something in her chest fluttering when he stands and waits for her to sit like that. And when he compliments her in return... Well, he's not the only one who's smiling and turning a subtle shade of pink.
"It must be the shower," she replies in her own playful tone, needing something to distract from how flustered she's suddenly feeling. "I should really try that more often. You know I'm usually a huge slob."
(She isn't, at least not in her appearance. Her room at the base, however...)
no subject
Of course, it was a little easier when they were out on missions to talk and tease and banter away like the three of them did. That seems to come easier than this and within moments of his last words, he's already trying to figure out where to navigate the conversation.
"I hope you like Italian. I wasn't even sure what I liked and then... " Bucky slides a menu over and opens it up. "It's like the reservation made itself."
no subject
Which is ridiculous. She's faced aliens and killer robots and the end of the world, but sitting in a nice restaurant with a nice guy is what makes her nervous? Get it together, Johnson.
"Just like magic," she comments with a knowing smile. Who knew the new Captain America liked to play matchmaker. "But I do like Italian, yes. A lot. I'm not a picky eater in general, but it's up there on my favorites list."
She picks up the wine list and gives it a comical grimace before exchanging it for a menu. "I will admit that I have no idea what to do with that, though."
no subject
"Yeah," he looks at the drink menu. "I guess we're going to be the only ones in here drinking something different. Beer?"
It's getting easier. The atmosphere is helping but Daisy is making things relaxed and normal and without that, he's pretty sure he would have botched the whole thing and took off without a word.
no subject
"Oh god yes," she answers with a relieved laugh, glad they won't be bumbling their way through trying to choose a 'proper' wine. "Beer is much more my speed."
She's quiet for a moment, her mind whirring a mile a minute as she tries to settle on a topic, before she finally lowers the menu she'd been pretending to study. "Cards on the table? This is the first date I've ever been on."
It's not something she'd specifically planned on sharing, but she's less worried about possibly being teased for her inexperience than she is concerned that he feels comfortable. He's had to adjust to so much that if she can help in even some small way, she will.