Chapter Text
The contestants were nervous, but then again the contestants were always nervous for this part, where the hosts were introducing the judges, before the shininess had worn off. He could see how the lights and cameras, including the beauty currently strapped to his front, might intimidate some people, but Steve had never much minded them, being in front of or behind the lens. Then again, he wasn’t the one being asked to make a brunch to feed four for only $20 on regional television and then feed it to a Michelin starred chef.
Maybe they had a right to be nervous.
Steve scanned the contestants with his camera while Trish and Sam named each family member. He paused on all of them, his job being the middle ground coverage that would be intercut with closeups and some full frame shots in the editing. He liked his job, like painting with a much larger brush, but introductions were always a little dull. Until he panned from the Stark family to the Barnes and felt his heart flutter a little in his chest.
Where the Stark family was a study in contrasts, and really made for excellent visual media, with the woman’s tall lean form and long hair and the two men, each about the same height but drastically different builds and skintones, the Barnes family was clearly from the same genetic mold. If that wasn’t a mother and her two children, Steve would eat his camera. He tuned back in as Sam introduced them: “And here we have the Barneses! Barnesi?” The family chuckled politely and Sam beamed at them like beaming was his job. (It was.)
“Bucky, you’ve brought your mother and sister with you today, is that right?” Sam said, waving to the most attractive man that Steve had ever seen in his life. The man was like a Raphael painting in human form and wearing a Henley, tousled brown hair falling in waves across a brow made to be studied in oils. Oh Steve wanted to paint him. Steve wanted to do a lot of things to him. Charcoals, maybe? Pastels even, and Steve didn’t really like pastels normally, they messed with his lungs…
“Steven.”
Steve smoothly panned over to get footage of sister Becca and mother Winnie as they were introduced as well. Natasha wasn’t the type to make idle threats, and the best way to deal with her was to never let her get to the threatening stage in the first place. He’d deal with Bucky “must be immortalized in art” Barnes later. Somehow.
Becca looked nice, and mostly looked like her brother but in female form. She did nothing for Steve obviously but she was smiling with a particularly wicked grin that made him think she was probably fun. Their mother, Winnie, had a gently besieged look that implied raising her two children, if there were even only two of them, hadn’t been the easiest thing in the world. Steve could believe it. His own mother had had trouble with just him, and he wasn’t nearly as attractive as Bucky was. She probably had to beat the neighborhood boys off with a stick…
“Rogers. Your camera is drifting.”
Okay. Camera on the hosts as Trish smiled and explained the challenge, while the contestants pretended that they hadn’t definitely already known about it, prepared for it, practiced it at home, and picked their ingredients off of the shelves. Steve concentrated on Trish’s shiny blonde hair and perfect teeth, wondering idly if Jess was going to show up to work today or not, while she rattled off the challenge. Twenty dollars, brunch, an hour to cook, have fun. All the usual, of course. But since Trish had announced, Steve panned to Sam for the final moment: “Wonderful families, go!”
They were off in a rush. The Stark family immediately began pulling out pots with precision. Steve filmed in amusement for a minute while one of the men tried to insist that he knew the next step and the other told him not to bother. “Pepper has the list, Tony,” he said. “You know the rules. Pepper is in charge of the kitchen. Pepper is literally always in charge of the kitchen.” Tony pouted but went off to do something, presumably Pepper approved, and Pepper herself came over to give her defender a kiss on the cheek. They were fun. He liked them.
But a moment longer saw his camera inexorably moving to film the Barnes family, who had exploded into arguing the moment Sam told them to go. Bucky and Becca were desperately debating how much spice to use while their mother ignored them both and simply added however much she thought was right. Steve loved it.
He double checked the room and saw that Jess was in fact there, holding the boom over Tony Stark as he said something into the camera about what he was cooking. That camera was being operated by Clint, which meant Steve was free to do as much coverage of the Barnes family as he wanted. And oh did he want. “Covering Barnes,” he said into his headset.
“Color me shocked,” came Natasha’s dry reply, which Steve chose to ignore as he walked his steadicam over to the Barnes “kitchen” and asked them what they were cooking, double checking to see that, yes, Peter had followed and the boom was appropriately raised to get their answers. Winnie was bent over a mixing bowl, whisking furiously, as Becca quickly sliced a large braided loaf of bread into thick pieces and spread them on a baking sheet. Bucky, meanwhile, was briskly scrubbing small fish in a sieve. They all looked up at him, surprised again by the existence of the cameras and the reminder that, yes, they were on television.
Well, not yet, but soon anyway.
Becca was the first to speak, wiping at her forehead with an inner elbow and knocking away a few loose curls. “We wanted to make something we’d actually eat for brunch,” she said, “but the time crunch was a big pressure.”
“Not the budget?” Steve found himself saying.
Bucky laughed and it was the most beautiful thing Steve had ever heard. He didn’t have to even turn his camera, it was already there. “The budget’s pretty dead on, honestly. You think every Brooklyn kid’s gonna spend more than twenty bucks on a meal for four? Sounds like a big spender to me.” Winnie and Becca both laughed.
“You’re from Brooklyn? Which part?”
“Borough Park, where else?” Winnie smiled. “Our family has been there for ages.”
“Mine’s from Red Hook,” Steve was going to have to gag himself because this was not appropriate or relevant to the show but he couldn’t not say things and it was a problem.
“A Brooklyn boy, huh?” Bucky said, grinning at Steve while Steve tried to shrink behind the camera to hide his sudden furious blush. “Selling out by crossing the bridge just for a lousy job. You’re a traitor to our people, aren’t ya?”
“You’re here too,” Steve jabbed back.
“He’s got you there, Buck,” said Becca. “Now quit flirting and finish up the anchovies.”
Bucky turned a faint purple color and went back to scrubbing fish while his sister carried on as if their entire interlude, ninety seconds of perfection that Steve was going to have to replay at least a dozen times before he fell asleep that night, hadn’t happened. “We wanted to make the same food we wouldn’t normally make for brunch,” she said, “but we were worried about the time. Not so much the budget, because we’re used to tight money, but we have a lot of time on the weekends for cooking together.”
Steve aimed the camera straight at her. She had a wide open face and a smile that hinted at itself even when she was talking normally. Also she was completely without shame about teasing her brother and when he was done feeling embarrassed himself, Steve was pretty sure he was going to really like her.
“So we’re making Challah French Toast, Charoset to go on top, some broiled anchovies, and a Moroccan orange and black olive salad for a savory more filling bit on the side.”
Steve resisted the urge to whistle. Impressive that they got it in under budget. Sam, who’d wandered up while Becca was talking, didn’t bother to restrain himself. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but you got all of that for twenty dollars? That’s insane.”
Bucky beamed. “Our Ma is the best in the world at stretching a dollar. Tell ‘em, Ma.”
He panned over as Winnie ducked her head and waved a slightly eggy hand. “It’s nothing much. You have four teenagers in the house at once, not to mention all the cousins, on a single mother’s salary, and you see how fast you can learn to make a dollar count.” Bucky and Becca both, as if planned, leaned over and gave their mother smacking kisses on the cheek. Steve was maybe having a feeling.
“That’s good television; I hope you were filming that,” came Natasha’s voice in his ear.
“Obviously,” he whispered.
Another few minutes passed of the Barnes family cooking and occasional questions and pestering from Sam while Steve and Peter filmed. Every once in a while Bucky would look up and make quick eye contact with Steve before looking down again, but Steve was resolutely not thinking about that very hard, nope.
Steve found he was falling into a lull, watching them cook, like it was warm and familiar, even with the bickering and the badgering. He jolted slightly, nervously steadying the camera, as he saw out of the corner of his eye that the judges were approaching. He straightened himself. It didn’t really matter if they thought he was slacking, but somehow he didn’t want his behavior to reflect poorly on the Barneses. Which was probably a bad sign in itself.
The judges, esteemed food critic Matt Murdock and respected Michelin award winning chef Frigga, walked up to the Barnes table arm in arm. Ostensibly it was so that Frigga could guide Matt over there and he wouldn’t have to use his cane. But everyone on the crew knew that Matt’s sense of hearing was so acute and he knew the studio so well he could have easily done it alone. Really it was for the visual, for the intimidating presence of two judges showing up, a united front. Also it was cute and it made for a good shot. He just hoped no one got flustered.
“Good afternoon,” Frigga said. “What are you making for us today?”
This time Bucky was the first one to speak. “We’re making a Challah French Toast, charoset, some anchovies, and an orange and olive salad.”
Becca rolled her eyes and Steve made sure to quicky zoom in and catch it. “Really, Bucky. ‘Some anchovies.’ Way to sell our food to two of the best palates in the world.”
“Please forgive my children,” said Winnie, stepping forward to dip a piece of Challah into the batter. “They weren’t raised right.”
It was only Steve’s long experience on set that told him Frigga was holding in a laugh. To his surprise, though, Matt, usually the more serious and cooler of the judges, broke into a wide smile. “I can tell you all really enjoy cooking together,” he said. “And it smells delicious. It’ll be wonderful to taste it all when you’re done.”
Matt took Frigga’s hand again, and they walked over to talk to the Stark family, leaving the Barneses a little flustered in their wake.
“Isn’t he normally really kind of…” said Bucky.
“Yeah,” said Steve. “He really is.”
Fortunately for Steve’s nerves, and judging by Natasha’s tone his job security, the rest of the cooking proceeded without incident, and while there was some slightly over dramatic scrambling at the last minute to get things plated and ready for the judges, both families had everything ready well in time for the final countdown. No doubt the editors would inevitably make it look like a mad rush, but really it had all gone according to both plans. Steve stepped back and away and moved to film at the main table for the first round tastings.
Frigga and Matt took their seats, and Steve saw that someone had seen fit to match them in ever so slightly complementary colors. Clever, that. He’d have to make sure the light was best to catch their outfits. It was a good piece of costuming that served to remind everyone who was on which team, and that the judges were, essentially, a team of their own.
The Starks were up first for the tasting, and Steve found himself suddenly quite curious about what they’d made. It turned out they’d decided to make breakfast burritos for their brunch meal, along with a line of Bloody Mary’s that Frigga was eyeing happily.
Steve filmed as Matt delicately and with more grace than most people would credit him picked up a burrito and took a large bite without getting a single drop on his very nice suit. It was almost annoying how good he was at that. Frigga stuck to small bites as she hummed and hawwed over the internals of the burrito. Finally she decided that, yes, she did like it very much. So did Matt, though he noted that the flavor of the beans was very mild, so mild that it was barely even there. Frigga admitted she’d forgotten there even were beans, and already Steve could tell that the missing beans were going to be a whole storyline when the episode made it to air.
Next was the Barnes family and their plates. The Challah was crisp and battered a perfect golden brown, with the wine from the charoset running down it in pink rivulets. Next to it, salted oranges and olives formed a barrier before you got to the broiled anchovies, like a continuum of flavors leading from sweet and into savory and back as many times as you’d like to go. Steve was suddenly extremely hungry.
Matt took a bite and Steve realized that he might be just a little bit nervous. Then Frigga took a bite and he realized he was absolutely petrified. He’d never been this invested in a contestant before. Or rather, in a family before. Obviously he was interested in more than just Bucky.
Actually, he was interested in more than just Bucky. He liked all of them. The Starks seemed nice, but he wanted the Barneses to win because they knew how to stretch a dollar and they were from Brooklyn and they made him feel at home when they cooked and Matt was talking and he should probably be filming.
“…Love how the flavor of the charoset plays on the crispness of the Challah. While I would have liked to have homemade bread for the French Toast, I understand you didn’t have enough time.”
“You want to use day old bread, anyway,” said Bucky. “So slightly stale storebought Challah is better than fresh for this actually.”
“Interesting,” said Frigga. “And I love how you’ve arranged the plate! This orange and olive salad, I’ve never had anything like it. How lovely the flavors as they mix with the fish. I like how the salad in the middle could almost go with either of the dishes on each side. Well done.”
“You’ve shown us what brunch tastes like at your house,” said Matt, “and I believe brunch is a really wonderful time there.”
Winnie looked genuinely touched, and Steve stayed on her face as the judges cleared away and Trish and Sam moved into position to announce the next challenge. After this, he wouldn’t see them for a few weeks while they prepared. In the meantime, he’d be filming more of these twenty dollar challenges. It was strange to imagine missing contestants, but he imagined he would. He liked them.
As the lighting rig was set up around Sam and Trish, with Matt and Frigga off to the side, Steve focused on checking his camera battery for these last shots. He was startled then when a voice sounded beside him.
“Hey, Brooklyn.”
Steve looked over, and, yeah, it was Bucky.
“I don’t know your name, and it seemed better than calling you Camera Guy.”
Steve smiled. “I answer to it. You yell that enough times and I do come running.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. What’s your name, camera guy?”
“Steve. Steve Rogers.”
“Well, Steve Rogers,” he said, rolling the name in his mouth, “I’ve noticed a little something today. Mostly you. And your camera. Following me.”
Steve gulped.
“Like, a lot.”
“I’m sorry.”
Bucky grinned. “Don’t be. It’s flattering. The question is, are you going to do anything about it, or now that you’ve had your way with me with your camera are you going to leave me and go?”
Steve wanted nothing more in the world in that moment than to make like a romcom and throw caution to the wind but, “I can’t.”
“You can’t,” Bucky repeated.
“You’re a contestant and I’m on the crew. We are explicitly forbidden from dating contestants. Literally. I signed a contract.” Steve sighed. “Sorry.”
“So you just can’t date me while I’m a contestant on this show?”
“Yeah, I know, it’s a harsh rule but it’s a really important move forward for our labor standards with sexual harassment proceedings and…”
Bucky stopped him. “What about when I’m not a contestant anymore.”
“Huh?”
“The show doesn’t go forever, idiot. I like you, even if I’m not sure why, and you clearly like my face at least. So give it a few weeks. If we still want to date after I’m done humiliating myself on national television, we can try then.”
“Regional television. And what if you win?”
“We’ll fall off that bridge when we get to it.”
Steve smiled. “Okay. Okay. Bucky Barnes, will you go on a date with me, maybe, in about five weeks?”
Bucky grinned back. “Steve Rogers, I would maybe love to.”