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“Dude, you can’t hog all those,” Clint spoke imperiously to Thor, who looked up curiously from where he’d been hoarding a small pile of something wrapped in crinkly plastic. Despite the severity of the offense implied by Clint’s tone, Thor didn’t look guilty at being called out, although honestly, none of them had ever seen Thor look guilty. Perhaps it was too earthly an expression for his Asgardian face, but more likely, as Tony had put it, “When you’re a god amongst lowly mortals, you probably feel like the superior species one hundred percent of the time”. Ergo the lack of guilty face. He was, however, wearing an expression of confusion which was one Steve could relate to all too easily.
Privately, Steve was grateful for Thor’s frequent presence at Stark Tower. Sure, he had muscles even Steve’s serum enhanced body didn’t recognize, but he floundered with technology just as much as Steve did. It was comforting, particularly considering even Steve’s boyfriend had a better handle on current equipment that Steve did, like toasters or smart phones. Hydra may have kept Bucky on ice a majority of the time, but when he was defrosted, they didn’t want him to waste time or blow missions getting freaked out by a microwave or something. Personally, Steve felt it was a little depressing, that even his childhood friend who had been brainwashed knew more about current times than he, but since he was currently dating his childhood friend who was more than happy to help him figure things out, he wouldn’t complain. Too much.
“Did you wish to partake in these wrapped items as well, archer?” Thor replied, and Clint simply glared at him before grabbing all but one and chucking them at everyone in the room. The Avengers were assembled in the main living area of Tony’s level in Stark Tower, enjoying their weekly take-out and movie night, something the tabloids took great enjoyment, and occasionally condescension, reporting on, but none of them gave a damn. Because really, they took down aliens and Nazis and dealt with Asgardian princes with their underpants in a twist (Steve was intensely grateful Thor hadn’t insisted on dragging Loki along to their Christmas get together – the Thanksgiving incident had nearly started a nuclear crises and would be burned into their collective memories for years to come) so in their free time they could do whatever they damn well wanted. Even if it was just making their way through all the Manhattan restaurants that provided delivery, and burning through Netflix like there was no tomorrow.
Since it had been Bruce’s turn to choose the restaurant, they had been partaking of Chinese food tonight, a culinary experience Steve had missed out of during the pre-serum part of his life, and he had to say, that was a shame. The General Tsaos chicken was pretty damn good.
Yet when Steve reflexively caught the little package Clint threw him, and saw the unidentified object inside, he traded a baffled look with Bucky, and was secretly pleased his lover seemed to have no better understanding of this than he, before they both looked at Clint questioningly. “Guys. They’re fortune cookies. They’re awesome.”
“Don’t eat them. They seriously must all be from a stock pile from the sixties. They’re always stale,” Natasha recommended as she scooped up more pork fried rice. Clint gasped violently as though she’d calmly pulled out her gun and shot him.
“You have to eat the cookie! Otherwise the fortune doesn’t come true!” Clint declared authoritatively. Natasha just rolled her eyes and grabbed a spring roll.
“A cookie. . . tells you your fortune? Like, your future?” Bucky questioned, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Steve blinked, wondering how they had yet to hear about prophesies inside food.
“No one takes them seriously,” Sam explained, before rolling his eyes at the yelled “Hey!” Clint let out. Clearly, rolling eyes was an epidemic that happened in the archer’s presence. Having fallen victim to uncontrollable eye rolling syndrome himself, Steve could sympathize but was more focused on Sam’s clarification. “It’s just a little piece of paper inside the cookie that has some sort of saying on it, like…” he paused to break open his own cookie before laughing, and reading aloud, “Flattery will go far tonight.”
“Sam, you sweet talker, you know that’s true any night,” Tony says, throwing the handsome man a teasing wink.
Oh. So they weren’t really real. Well, Steve could hardly feel bad about temporarily buying into the idea. After all, given the crazy things he’d woken up to, clairvoyant cookies would be the least of them. Regardless, he found himself curious and broke open his own cookie, daring to try a piece of what felt and looked nothing like a cookie. A second later, he was able to confirm it also tasted nothing like a cookie, and Natasha had been correct in her assessment. But he wasn’t too disappointed, considering it was the little paper inside that had attracted his attention.
Unfolding it, Steve couldn’t hold back his own laugh when he read, “Never wear your best pants when you go fight for freedom.” Instantly Clint demanded to know what it said, yet Steve carefully tucked it into his pocket, and simply smiled. True, it didn’t exactly tell him his ten year plan, but it felt like it had been perfectly picked just for him. Maybe the cookies did offer some level of accurate forecasting.
“How about it Buck? You get a good one?” Steve asked, glancing at his lover who sat curled up beside him on the couch, eyes flickering over his fortune before he turned to stare at Steve, dark eyes unexpectedly intense.
“I think they might really be able to tell the future,” Bucky said, his voice low so it didn’t carry to Bruce who sat at the far end of the couch they were curled up on, deep in discussion with Mariah Hill about why watching the Saw movies was a terrible idea of everyone present.
“Yeah? Maybe they are,” Steve concurred easily, not knowing why his agreement had a sly smile tugging at the edge of Bucky’s sexy and frankly wicked mouth. Yet four hours later when he lay in their bed, gasping for breath as Bucky continued to kiss along his jaw, Bucky filled Steve in on what his fortune had said. “Suppose you can get what you want.” Apparently, Bucky had supposed. And they’d both damn well gotten what they wanted if the new damage done to their metal headboard was any indication. Hmm, they might need to ditch headboards all together and just stick with a mattress. Regardless, when Bucky bit not so playfully at his neck, and Steve was thanking his lucky stars for super serum and ten second recovery periods, he was sure of it. The cookies definitely offered some level of accurate forecasting.
Foolishly, Steve had assumed that would be the end of the fortune cookie adventure. Already thinking ahead to the next movie night, which was his pick, he’d been looking forward to some New York style pizza. You could take the boy out of Brooklyn... So he’d been more than a little confused by the fortune cookie he found lying in the middle of the hallway on his private floor, obviously planted there. Glancing around, but seeing no sign of anyone else, Steve crouched down, and picked up the cookie. Clearly it had been tampered with, two pieces stuck back together by what he imagined was super glue. Not exactly edible, but since he was reasonably certain this wasn’t a dessert turned into an incendiary device, Steve shrugged, gave into his curiosity and cracked it open. Then blinked down at the fortune.
Staring at it for long minutes, it wasn’t because it was hard to read which had Steve raising an eyebrow. It was just, there were two fortunes. The first, clearly the one originally printed on there, said with infinite wisdom- “Don’t mistake temptation for opportunity.” However, someone had evidently taken issue with that, and crossed it out, then written in small, cramped writing beneath it “Today is a perfect day to go down on your boyfriend.”
“You know, I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” Steve said at length, and even though he hadn’t heard anyone approach, sure enough, when he glanced up Bucky was standing a few feet away. The man leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, a smirk on that unreasonably sexy face of his.
“Whadya mean?” Bucky demanded, the picture of innocence, and as always the sound of his Brooklyn drawl which had taken long months to reappear after Bucky had returned to Steve’s life, made Steve’s collar feel just a little too tight. “It’s a fortune. You have to follow it, or else you get bad luck. I googled it,” he said with authority.
Feeling a smirk of his own tugging at his lips, Steve shifted smoothly from his crouch into a more comfortable kneeling position as Bucky straightened up and sauntered over. “I dunno, this might be one of those temptations I shouldn’t be mistaking for an opportunity,” he teased, even as he playfully looked up at Bucky from beneath his lashes, something he knew from extensive experience drove the other man crazy.
“Trust me, it’s definitely an opportunity. You don’t want to get in the way of fate,” Bucky insisted solemnly. And well, who could argue with that?
A more naïve person might think that would be the end of it. But that same naïve person would clearly be underestimating the single mindedness of the Winter Soldier. The focus that used to be aimed towards completing missions and being the worlds’ most accurate sniper, was now devoted to whatever thing caught Bucky’s attention. For several weeks it had been ice cream, and Steve was certain the two of them had tried every single flavor known to man. Then there had been late 90’s pop music. Steve had been less thrilled by that phase, and wished his perfect memory could be just a little faulty, particularly where *NSync and Backstreet Boys lyrics were concerned.
Now, people frequently called Steve naïve. What they failed to realize was that while Steve was a simple man with a straightforward moral code, he was anything but stupid. And so he was no longer surprised when he began to find fortune cookies literally everywhere on his floor. In the empty coffee maker, beneath his pillow, piled inside his shield like it was a candy dish. All of them had been edited, most of the new fortunes of a frankly scandalous nature that Steve was more than happy to comply with. After all, when you had the world’s sexiest lover who was making very . . . creative suggestions, you rolled with it.
Steve was surprised when those scandalous cookies began to show up on Tony’s floor, where the Avengers had taken to hanging out, but then again, Bucky had been surprising him for ninety years, so he supposed he shouldn’t expect that to change now. Blushing furiously each time he found one there, or worse yet was helpfully handed a cookie unearthed by a smirking team member, he would shoot Bucky a glare each time, the brunet looking completely unrepentant. Obviously. The only thing Steve could be grateful for was that none of the other team members would crack into the cookies themselves, and he wondered what threat Bucky must have leveled at each of them to inspire such a show of restraint. Except for Clint, who was wearing a large bruise on his bicep and a pout upon his face when he grumpily shuffled over to Cap and thrust a cookie at him. Glancing at the cookie which had obviously been broken into for a second time, and then glancing at the bruise that was precisely the size and shape of Bucky’s metal fist, Steve snorted out a laugh, the method Bucky had used to “convince” Clint to leave the cookies alone obvious.
So while the other Avengers didn’t exactly know what Bucky had written on all those papers, the contents which were impressing Steve more and more with their inventiveness, some of them he wasn’t sure were even physically possible, Steve was still rather embarrassed. After all, every last one of his team mates were smart enough to infer the nature of the fortunes. But despite it, he was glad too, loving how this playful side of Bucky was making such a strong reappearance. There had been times Steve had feared it was gone forever, so to see it now made Steve incredibly happy. Happy enough that he blushed at each new cookie, but accepted it with a mumbled thanks, and then pounced on Bucky the moment they were alone.
Tony however, was less than impressed by the whole deal. Not because he was against creative and naughty situations – anyone who had seen his sex video that had been leaked to the internet could attest to that. Privately, Steve was convinced Tony had leaked it himself, just because he loved the attention. But after unintentionally seeing five seconds of the video when Natasha had insisted she had a new “cat video” she just had to show him, her and Clint roaring with laughter when Steve fell over, hands clapped over in his face once he fathomed just what he was seeing, Steve would privately admit, those five seconds were fairly impressive, and shockingly bendy. Tony might just deserve the attention and accolades that video had garnered. Not that Steve would ever tell him that.
No, Tony didn’t care about the X-rated contents of the cookies. What he took issue with was the clear damage the cookies themselves sustained when they were broken apart, then carefully reassembled. “Steve, please tell me you’re not actually eating these. Just because you’re a superhero made from super-serum doesn’t mean you should be ingesting super glue. Hey Red October, why don’t you just custom order them on-line?”
Normally Bucky would have thrown something sharp and painful at Tony for the new nickname, just one in a long list Tony came up with since he had an issue with using people’s real name for whatever reason, this one actually grasped by them all thanks to the last movie night. But instead Bucky was too busy staring at Tony with wide eyes, mouth hanging open as Sam ignored them all and carefully removed a stick from the game of Kerplunk the men were involved in, whooping at his successfully executed maneuver.
“You can do that?” Bucky demanded.
“Sure you can,” Tony said casually. Then blinked as a whirl of shining metal and flying hair zoomed by, Bucky instantly off to find his laptop and credit card.
“Hey, what about our game, man?” Sam called after him with affront, then blinked when Natasha slid in the vacated chair across from him, the smile on her face one many a man had seen seconds before their death. “Oh man,” he muttered, then watched with narrowed eyes as she effortlessly worked a stick out of the mass. If he was going to have his ass handed to him, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying on his part.
So, after that, the fortune cookies were somewhat more edible (they were still pretty terrible tasting), though no less naughty. Eventually they trailed off a bit, because apparently even Bucky’s massive creativity had a limit at some point – plus he’d discovered Legos, and that became a whole new thing – but Steve would still find a cookie planted somewhere every so often. And it always made him smile, because it was better than stepping on Legos – a pain even his super-serum enhanced body was not immune to. And soon he began to formulate a plan of his own.
A few weeks later on movie night, Bucky was raiding the kitchen on the main level before their takeout had arrived, because hey, he was hungry, and he was hungry now. “Yo, anyone else want some mac and cheese-” he yelled, before trailing off when he turned around and saw the cookie sitting in the middle of the counter. Frowning, he glanced around, but no one was to be seen as he struggled to remember if he had put a cookie there. He didn’t think so, and he’d been doing pretty good about keeping his memories straight lately. Setting aside the cold bowl of mac he’d pulled from the fridge, he picked up the cookie. And cracked it open.
Reading the fortune, his eyes grew huge, his eyebrows making the acquaintance of his hairline as he tried to absorb just what he was seeing.
“So, what do you say?” Whirling around at Steve’s voice, Bucky’s eyes grew impossibly wider when he saw Steve kneeling before him, a small box held in his hand.
“Did you just … propose to me? In a fortune cookie?” Bucky demanded, waving the small slip of paper printed with- “Today is a good day to go from boyfriend to fiancée.”
Loving the grin that spread over Steve’s handsome face, even as he still felt a bit dizzy, Bucky could only stare helplessly when Steve let out a chuckle. “Maybe. So what do you say? Be mine, Bucky? Forever?”
Letting out a baffled laugh of his own, Bucky nodded, watching with elation as Steve slipped a ring carefully onto his hand, before tugging Steve to his feet and wrapping his arms around him. “Don’t want to stand in the way of fate,” he managed to say. Was delighted by Steve’s laughter all over again.
“Definitely not. It’s bad luck – I googled it,” Steve replied, before tugging Bucky in for a kiss. And well, who could argue with that?