Chapter Text
“Hey, anyone up for a pizza?” John asked, strolling casually into the living room of the Watchtower. His forehead was beaded with sweat from carrying so many boxes around, and he'd just had some time off to take his tiredness out on a punching bag.
Moving into a new place, as anyone with roommates or family will tell you, is not an ideally fun event. The afternoon had been filled with Mel giving a tour of the former Avengers HQ, Walker and Ava bickering needlessly over everything, Alexei clogging up the doors with decorations and personal touches he wished to make to the Tower, and the others just kind of going with the flow.
Now, everyone was winding down for the day, relaxing or busying themselves with idle tasks.
“I could go for one,” Bucky muttered laziy, tossing a few darts at a board with effortless precision.
“I'm down, but only if we get mushrooms on ‘em, heh,” Bob spoke up from the quiet corner where he was reading.
“Christ. You would, too,” Walker mumbled in disgust.
“What is this I hear about pizza?” Alexei marched in, his arms crossed like a parent fixing to scold their child.
“What? I'm just gonna order a pizza. Wh-”
“No, no, no,” the Russian interjected, shaking his head with obvious disapproval. “No orders. First day eating dinner together, we must make it special. I'll cook.”
“You'll cook?” John asked mockingly. “No, no. There's a great pizza place down by Sullivan. I can order the food, drive over there and be back with it in ten minutes.”
“Too simple,” Alexei argued. “Besides. I am great cook. You will not regret this.”
“Uh… can we at least get a vote on this?”
Ava walked past the two and shook her head in complete disinterest, phasing through a nearby wall.
“Who wants him to cook? Show of hands. ”
“Uh…” Bob nervously raised his hand, to which Alexei gave him an appreciative grin. Bucky glared over, skeptical.
“Where's Yelena?” asked Alexei, “LENA!”
“Oh, God,” John whispered.
“LENA! WHERE ARE YOU, UM-NICHKA?! WE NEED TIEBREAKER! WHERE-”
“She went shopping for her guinea pig,” Bucky said. “Just a little bit ago.”
“Oh,” he softened, pulling up a chair and sitting casually, as if he hadn't just been shouting his head off five seconds beforehand. “She has guinea pig? Since when?”
“Who cares?” John interrupted. “Dinner. I'm getting it. See ya.” The former Captain America pulled out his phone to place the order and turned towards the elevator, but was stopped when a firm hand clasped his shoulder.
“Please. I insist, Mr. Walker. Let me show you good cuisine.”
“Fine, Jesus, whatever,” Walker growled, “but this better be one hell of a dinner if you're gonna make us wait on it.”
“It will! Winter Soldier, you can come help me, if you like.”
Bucky sighed, resuming to his dartboard. “I told you to stop calling me that.”
John sighed dismissively. “Just get to work, would you? Show me what you can do while I go and do… something. And starve.”
-.-.-
“It's done! Come, everyone!” Alexei hollered, banging a fork against a cowbell as to get everyone's attention.
“Where the hell did you get that?” Bucky asked, shooting Alexei an annoyed expression as he continued to announce that dinner was ready with increasing volume.
“I got it at flea market. Good place. I should have taken you there, Mr. Soldier.”
“Just call me Bucky,” he replied grouchily, snatching the bell and “gently” setting it onto the counter.
Ava walked in with Bob and John, seating themselves at the elongated table that took up the entirety of the room. The table already had plates, forks and cups at each seat. Next to them, a spacious wall-length window that gave a generous view of the New York skyline. The sky was quite peaceful tonight as the tranquil dark overtook the city. Of course, this darkness was natural and a complete contrast to the one caused by the Void, Bob thought quietly to himself while glancing outside.
Yelena was the last to come in, looking over at the covered dishes the two super soldiers had prepared. She whispered, “Oh, don't tell me. You let him cook?”
“He practically begged me,” John rolled his eyes.
“Hope you're hungry,” Alexei smiled proudly, scooping up the large plates with both hands and plopping them down on the table.
“Why'd you put tin foil over them?” Ava asked, pointing curiously at the small platters.
“For suspense,” said Shostakov, practically grinning from ear to ear.
“You took two hours to make this. Trust me, the suspense has passed,” grumbled Walker.
Ripping the tin foil from the plates hastily, the Red Guardian revealed the meal.
Yelena nodded with approval; Bob squinted his eyes in curiosity, Ava let out a welcoming “huh,” and Bucky just stood in the corner, removing his Vibranium arm to insert it into the dishwasher.
“BLT, great, but what's that?” John poked at the second plate, which contained a strange, yellow-brown mound with a white sludge slathered on top.
“Is cake! C'mon, I'll cut it,” Alexei eagerly returned to the kitchenette to retrieve a knife.
“That… that's a cake?” Ava tilted her head in curiosity.
“Could be worse,” Yelena suggested hopefully.
“Yeah,” Bob added. “Um, my dad never made food, so you probably feel pretty lucky, I guess.”
“You… could say that, yeah.”
“You shouldn't be so picky,” Ava said on the other side of the table, wagging a finger at John.
“Oh, eat shit, would you? Bucky, you couldn't have done something about this? I mean… well, look at it, for Christ's sake!”
“I didn't supervise him, I was busy with these,” Bucky came over, one-armed, and passed the sandwiches around, two per person.
“At least you know your way around the kitchen,” John almost instantly snatched up his sandwich, only for his face to twist in horror after the first few bites. “What the hell?”
“What?” Bucky shot an uncaring gaze at Walker.
“What’s on this?” He spat into a napkin and parted the remaining bread to get a glimpse of the ingredients. “Mayonnaise?” Walker grunted in disappointment. “Seriously? Who puts Mayonnaise on a sandwich?”
“Humans do,” Barnes shrugged it off, looking over as Alexei came back with a knife and a pitcher of tea.
“Ah, and where would team dinner be without refreshment, eh? Eh?”
“Whatever,” John shook his head, pushing his plate away.
“Come now, everyone must get a piece,” Alexei began to hack at the cake, getting six large slices in total. “Here's to first official night as Avengers!”
Yelena stood and poured herself some of the tea, looking around as (almost) everyone accepted their slices.
“Please tell me that tea is sweetened,” John shot an uneasy glance to Alexei, who smiled ignorantly.
“No, why?”
“Jesus Christ, I'm in a nuthouse.” The agent stood up disreputably, tossing his paper towel onto his plate.
“Where are you going?” Yelena asked, sitting back down.
“To get pizza. Literally anyone else is invited to come with.” He stormed out, leaving both a half-eaten sandwich and a somewhat downtrodden Alexei Shostakov in his wake.
“I don't understand. He didn't even try the cake.”
“Don't mind him, he's just being a dick,” Ava said comfortingly before taking a gulp of tea.
“Mmm! This is kinda good,” Bob exclaimed with a mouthful of cake. He may have fed only Robert so far, but judging from Alexei's facial reaction, he may as well have solved world hunger.
Bob's parents had never exactly made much food for him. His father never learned to cook, and his mother only ever made food for him when she felt like it (which wasn't quite often). He always had to make something for himself, though it got him into trouble when he'd accidentally broken a cabinet door when he was six, trying to climb his way to a box of macaroni. To say that Robert was satisfied with Alexei's cooking was… well, an understatement.
John, having grown accustomed to his wife Olivia's cooking, had a specific need for his each and every meal, down to the last grain of salt. Oh, how he missed her so…
Ava, of course, spent a good portion of her early life hooked up to machines and devices that kept her… well, alive, essentially. In that time, she'd grown accustomed to consuming anything put in her direction (if it didn't phase through her first) and hardly ever turned her nose up at the opportunity to eat.
Yelena was very familiar with Alexei's nourishment, being his adoptive daughter and all. He didn't make food for anyone too much anymore, not since his little Natasha had died on behalf of saving the universe.
Bucky said nothing during this whole exchange. He sipped his tea after pouring it but silently chewed his meal, giving neither a positive or negative view on it.
“Um, you all like tea, I hope?”
“It's good,” Yelena nodded.
“Good. I had such trouble making this. We have no damn kitchen tools yet.”
“Uh, what… do you mean?” Ava slowly put her cup down next to her half-eaten BLT.
“Nothing to stir with here. Had to use my hands. Heh.” He lifted his left hand and did a swirling motion, smacking his lips while ending the gesture with an imitated explosion.
“Oh, dad,” Yelena groaned silently, putting her face in her hands.
After a moment of silence, Ava excused herself to vomit in one of the lower restrooms.
“Um, Alexei?” Bob spoke up, finishing the last of his food. “I just wanted to say, uh… thanks. Really. I haven't had anything this good since… uh, well…”
“Oh hush, you polite son of bitch. I'm glad you like it.”
“And I wanted to see if you could make meals like this, like… every day? Uh, well, you don't have to, obviously, but I was just curious.”
Merely three days ago, this younger man had beaten the sense out of Alexei and his self-proclaimed Thunderbolts without so much as breaking a sweat in the room right above where they now were (not to mention that the sign spinning, meth-addicted chicken Bob had beaten the group up while they were in the Void). And now, he was practically wolfing down the food he'd made, acting as if it were made by Christ Himself. This alone nearly brought tears to Alexei's eyes.
“Bob, I'll make all the cake you want.”
“Please do,” Yelena insisted with her mouth full.