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Steve looked up from his book and frowned. Someone was buzzing up. Usually, the only people who buzzed were deliveries–no one who didn’t have a key really visited. He glanced toward the big window in the front of the apartment, where the blinds were up and he could see out through the sheer curtains. The sky was starting to darken. Now that he was listening for it, he could hear the steady stream of traffic down several floors. People coming home from work.
Meaning it was probably dinnertime.
He hadn’t ordered dinner.
He stood up and dropped his book onto the chair. He’d been sitting for hours and hadn’t read a word, not a good sign. Isolating like this was almost never an option these days. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like.
Not good.
At the elevator, he leaned on the button to open the intercom to the door downstairs.
“Can I help you?”
“Delivery for I. C. Wiener.”
The man’s accent was so thick that it took Steve a moment to figure out what he’d said.
He rolled his eyes.
“Come on up.” He pressed the button that unlocked the outside door.
He knew exactly who’d sent him a delivery for an I. C. Wiener. I guess that means Natasha’s back. And if she hadn’t come to his place, she’d gone straight to see Sam.
Not that he blamed her. He’d go straight to see Sam, too, if it weren’t for Bucky.
Steve found his wallet and was glad to see he still had cash.
He heard the elevator and was waiting in the entryway when the heavy door slid open. At least, Steve thought, Natasha had ordered from somewhere he liked.
Silently, the guy handed over the ticket, and Steve only checked the bottom line before he passed it back with the cash on top. He took the boxes and nodded his thanks and hoped the guy never had to make another delivery to an I. C. Wiener again.
Some people weren’t as gracious about being pranked as Steve Rogers.
He padded through the living space, to the kitchen, reading the receipt as he went. Natasha had ordered him enough for dinner, and he was actually kind of glad. There was plenty in the kitchen, but it was likely he’d have finished off the leftovers Sam’s mom had sent over. Steve wasn’t sure Bucky wouldn’t hurt him if he came home from wherever Maria had sent him to an empty fridge and no prospect of Mrs. Wilson’s cooking for at least another month.
Steve spread the boxes out on the big, high island near the charging station Sharon had set up for them and dragged a chair close. He opened everything up, unplugged his phone, and snapped a picture to send to Natasha.
His phone pinged almost immediately with Natasha’s reply: Enjoy it, Captain Wiener.
He made a face.
Without Bucky around to guilt him into living like a civilized adult, Steve ate straight out of the boxes. He licked his fingers and dragged his tablet close so he could log in to one of the “novelty” websites. Not one of the classy, useful ones Bucky and Sharon liked so much, though.
Clearly, Natasha was still hellbent on her little war.
Had she forgotten who he was?
Steve added a tray for making tiny icy wieners to his cart. Then he found one of the kits for making copies of your own equipment and paused.
Well, he’d never had any complaints. Ice sculptures were popular event centerpieces, weren’t they?
I’ll show you an icy wiener, Romanov.