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Sam hadn’t thought too much about Bucky offering to cook dinner. The man had been living rent-free on the family couch for a while and it seemed only fair that he take a turn cooking, especially considering how much he ate. Sarah’s food bill had nearly doubled since he arrived. Sam didn’t know where he put it away, he was all muscle and sinew. He figured it had something to do with the serum, powering muscle and tissue and bones that can lift thousands of pounds and run as fast as a car must burn through calories at an alarming rate.
It was only when Sam walked through the front door he began having doubts. Big band music faintly emanated from the kitchen and there was a distinctly unpleasant, meaty aroma hanging in the air.
“Buck?” He called, heading for the kitchen, already preparing for the worst.
“Hey,” Bucky said, smiling easily.
Sam tried to ignore the way Bucky’s eyes lit up as soon as he entered the kitchen.
Two pots on the stove were bubbling away, and a couple of chopping boards laid out neatly on the sideboard, covered in thinly sliced onion and cabbage and…
Corned beef?
“What you making?” Sam asked, glancing into the pots, one held eggs boiling away and rattling against the metal, the other looked like a thick brown sludge. The meaty scent was definitely coming from there, along with a sharp citrus note. It wasn’t pleasant. He held back a grimace.
“Dinner,” Bucky said, as if it was obvious.
Sam nodded slowly.
“Right,” his concern mounted as he watched Bucky drop sheets of gelatine into the sludge, “and this is the main course, isn’t it?”
Bucky nodded, then furrowed his brow.
Sam knew that look.
“What is it?” He asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.
“Is there meant to be another course?” Bucky asked quietly.
Technically, there was. It was Friday, the day the boys got dessert, as a treat. Although if Bucky’s idea of dessert looked anything like his idea of dinner, maybe they got off lightly.
“Nah, man, this is fine,” Sam said, clapping Bucky on the shoulder.
The boys could make do with some peaches from the fruit bowl and ice cream Sam had snuck into the freezer without Sarah’s knowledge. He knew if she found it, it would be gone in a second.
Bucky let out a breath and gave a strained smile.
“I haven’t really cooked since the forties,” he admitted, focussing on the sludge.
“What’ve you been living off, then?” Sam asked, frowning.
“Those, uh, instant noodles are a pretty neat invention,”
“You are not living off of ramen. Tell me you’re joking,” Sam laughed, “you’re seriously out here eating like a college student. You know how much sodium is in them?”
Bucky shrugged.
“Tastes good,” he muttered.
“Yeah, if you’re broke. You gotta have fruits, vegetables, protein. Where’s your omega three, your vitamin B12, huh?”
“I grew up on meat and two veg-”
“One of which was potato, which doesn’t count,”
“- and I was absolutely fine!”
Sam gave him A Look.
“That’s debatable,” he said, “what are you making, anyway, Mr Ramen Noodle?”
“It’s something my ma would make, on special occasions, it’s a salad,” Bucky said softly, adding the onion, cabbage and corned beef to the pot.
It didn’t look like any kind of salad Sam had ever had. He held back from making another snarky remark.
Bucky poured the brown sludgy mixture into a bundt tin, steam wafting off it as it settled. He then drained the eggs, quickly deshelled them and sliced them into quarters, adding them to the mixture. He put the whole thing in the fridge, grabbing two beers from the shelf before the door swung shut.
“That’s it?” Sam asked as Bucky popped the caps off the bottles with his metal thumb. He handed one to Sam and nodded.
Sam took a long sip, enjoying the cold bitter taste that lingered on his tongue contrasting with the hot kitchen.
The boys clattered through the front door a few hours later, Sarah yelling behind them to take off their dirty sports gear before going in the house.
“What’s for dinner?” AJ asked, hurrying through the living room and up the stairs to the shower.
“Bucky cooked,” Sam told him from the couch.
AJ stopped, halfway up the staircase.
“Uncle Buck can cook?” He asked, suspiciously.
“I guess we’ll find out.”
AJ sighed and hurried to the bathroom before Cass could get there before him and use up all the hot water.
Sam had to bite his tongue to stop himself grinning at the incredulous expressions of Sarah and his nephews. The boys had excitedly set the table, chattering between themselves about what Bucky could have made. Bucky, for his part, had tried to make the gelatinous brown blob look appealing. He’d put some green spinach leaves on the plate before sliding the ‘salad’ from the tin. It had, surprisingly, retained its shape quite well, jiggling as he carried it from the kitchen to the table. Only when it arrived had a crestfallen silence descended as the boys took in the monstrous gelatinous glob.
“Oh, that looks lovely, Bucky, thank you,” Sarah said, the first to break the silence. She stood, slicing a knife easily through the wobbly mixture and began doling out pieces to everyone’s plate.
“Uh, what is it?” AJ asked, eyeing the slice on his plate with suspicion.
“Yeah, it looks like cat foo-” Cass was cut off by a sharp kick under the table from his older brother.
“It’s salad,” Bucky said, quizzically, “you don’t have this these days?”
“No, we got salad,” AJ said.
“It just doesn’t look like this,” Cass piped up.
Sarah held a forkful of the salad to her face. Sam could clearly see her counting down in her head before she took a breath and put it in her mouth. Her eyes went wide as she chewed.
Eventually, she swallowed.
“You like it?” Bucky asked.
“I think,” she said carefully, “for my tastes, it could use a little more salt.”
She made her way to the kitchen. Sam raised his eyebrows at her as she grabbed the saltshaker. She eyed him, shaking her head and motioning to the salad. Sam grinned. She stuck her tongue out, before plastering a serene smile back on her face as she walked to the table.
Sam took a much smaller piece from his slice of salad and popped it in his mouth. His expectations hadn’t been high and yet somehow it still failed to meet them. The taste was almost non-existent, there was no particular flavour that stood out, it was just a bland mess. The texture, however, was awful. It was exactly like Cass had said – cat food. Gelatinous and filled with tough pieces of meat and stringy, yet somehow undercooked, vegetables. The most positive descriptor he could think of was unpleasant.
“Mmh, thanks, Buck,” he said, swallowing thicky, “it’s a real reminder of the forties.”
He frowned at his nephews who were toying with the food on each of their plates instead of actually eating it.
“Yeah, thanks Uncle Buck,” AJ said, staring at the meat jello on his plate.
“Thanks Uncle Bucky,” Cass joined in quietly.
Bucky smiled, taking a huge bite from his own fork.
All in all, Sam supposed the boys had done admirably, making their way through almost half of what was on their plates before calling it quits. Sarah and Sam had suffered through the whole thing and only just managed to refuse a second helping before Bucky deposited one on their plates. On Bucky’s part, he had made his way through more than half of the ‘salad’.
The boys had diligently taken all the plates and cutlery from the table to the sink for Bucky to wash – he had insisted – before asking about dessert.
“Did, uh, Uncle Bucky make dessert too?” Cass asked quietly, tugging on Sarah’s shirt sleeve.
Sarah looked to Sam, expectantly.
“No, but there’s peaches and ice cream for you, instead,” Sam said, ignoring the look Sarah threw him.
Both boys audibly sighed.
Bucky returned to the table with three open beer bottles.
Sarah took hers gratefully, taking a long swig before smiling at Bucky.
“Tomorrow,” she said, “how about we both make dinner? I can show you some real New Orleans recipes you can add to your repertoire.”
“Then you can stop living on ramen noodles,” Sam quipped, jostling Bucky with his shoulder.
Bucky smiled lightly at Sarah.
“I’d like that,” he said, softly.
Sam watched the looks exchanged by Bucky and his sister, frowning.
“Neither of you will be going anywhere near that kitchen if you don’t stop making doe eyes at each other,” he told them.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky grinned.