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It had been six months since the New Avengers was formed.
Three months of take-outs and Yelena’s terrible imitation of food.
For some reason she kept on doing her ‘food’, even when everyone, even Alexei, had told her it was an atrocity… Well, not exactly with those words, but John at least thought it was like that.
The tower was mostly a mess of takeout wrappers.
Yes, they did regular cleaning.
But the amount of food they all regularly ate was bigger than the amount of cleaning.
John looked to the living room.
The mess there was just starting; there were mostly Chinese food and burger boxes.
Everyone had added a bit to the disorder; still, it didn’t mean they were okay with it.
Ava would normally not comment but still gaze at the mess. Bob would politely ask for everyone to lift their own trash. Alexei would eat anything everywhere, pushing the crumbs aside with his foot. Yelena would yell at all to clean but then would add green stuff to the kitchen floor.
It was clear Bucky was the one suffering the most; he was quietly enduring it all, but he was a few days from snapping. John was silently judging it all; the only thing he thanked the military for was making him a clean man, and all this shit was enough.
John sighed and turned his head to the kitchen.
There was Yelena, cooking, if you could call it that, something that smelt terrible, and from the pot some black smoke was coming out.
John’s eye twitched.
Living by himself for such a long time made him learn to cook; he didn’t call himself a chef, but he was losing it seeing Yelena’s attempt.
John taught that they all would figure out something by the time being; the first two months were okay; that’s why he didn’t step in. But now, it was enough; he was going to get ulcers if this continued.
John walked to the kitchen.
“Pass me the cucumber.” Yelena said without looking to see who it was.
“No, you get out of the kitchen.”
John was already turning the stove off.
“What the fuck are you doing?!”
Yelena tried to turn the stove back on, but John grabbed her wrist so fast she wasn’t able to reach the button.
“I will cook, so get out of the kitchen.” John’s voice was serious; he was not joking.
“And what will you do?” Yelena crossed her arms.
“Oh, you wish to know.” John grabbed the apron and wore it. “Now get the fuck out if you want a meal.”
Yelena sensed something; she stopped fighting. John couldn’t care less if it was curiosity or something else that made her glare at him and then walk out of the kitchen.
John rolled his sleeves up and started clearing the space.
Containers went into the trash.
Pans were rinsed, stacked, and reorganised.
The chaos of the kitchen slowly gave way to order, not because John demanded it, but because his hands moved with quiet certainty.
John could feel his teammates' gazes.
But he didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t fumble.
He lined up ingredients, wiping the counter clean like it was muscle memory.
This wasn’t a stunt.
This was someone stepping into something familiar.
Bob lingered closer, curiosity winning out over caution. “So, uh… you cook?”
John glanced at him. “Yeah.”
“That’s it?” Bob asked.
“That’s it.”
Ava reappeared fully, leaning against the fridge. “You didn’t mention that.”
“You didn’t ask.”
Even after all the missions together, Ava and John never had time to have a proper conversation. Their relationship was actually just a fabrication based on mutual necessity. So of course John would have never truly opened up to her back then.
“There was nothing about cooking abilities on your file,” Yelena said, still indignant from being kicked out.
“SHIELD doesn’t know everything about us, does it?”
John turned enough to look at the others. Who gave him this look of knowing exactly what he was talking about?
Alexei hovered near the counter, watching like it was a sporting event. “I will taste-test,” he offered generously.
“No,” John said immediately. “You will wait.”
Bucky watched the room shift.
The tension that usually sat in the kitchen, the unspoken agreement to endure rather than enjoy, eased. The air changed as John worked, the smells turning warm and real instead of alarming. Garlic hit the pan. Something simmered low and steady.
It felt… normal.
One by one, they drifted away.
John didn’t bother to look where to.
He focused.
He tasted, adjusted, and tasted again. He moved with care, not urgency. The kitchen wasn’t a battlefield, and he wasn’t trying to prove anything.
That, more than anything, caught Bucky’s attention.
John cooked like someone who wanted people to eat. Like someone who wanted to take care of something without being asked. There was no tension in his shoulders, no clenched jaw. Just quiet concentration and the soft hum of the stove.
Bucky hadn’t realised how much he missed this kind of calm until it was there.
Bucky stayed where he was, unseen at the edge of the doorway, watching the way John moved like he belonged here.
The food would be ready at some point in the day.
But for now, the kitchen was quiet.
And Bucky didn’t leave.
He couldn’t leave.
Bucky lingered there, unmoving.
He traced every movement John did in his mind, like a map to find a treasure.
When John seemed to stop. Bucky used that as a sign.
Bucky stepped inside, leaning against the counter across from him, watching as John tasted and adjusted the heat with quiet confidence.
“…Jonathan.”
The spoon stopped.
John didn’t drop it. He didn’t turn around either. He just went very still, like his body had locked up before his thoughts could catch up.
Bucky noticed immediately.
“Buck…” John started.
“Hey,” he said, softer. “If you don’t like it, say the word and I’ll stop. But I mean it when I say that it suits you better.”
John swallowed. “It’s not that.”
He exhaled slowly, then finally turned to face him.
“No one calls me that,” John admitted. “Not really. Not my parents. Not anyone. So hearing it from you feels like you’re stepping into something that’s usually… closed.”
Bucky nodded, expression serious. “That’s kind of why I said it.”
John frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
Bucky hesitated, not because he didn’t know what he wanted to say, but because he did know exactly and he wasn’t sure how John would react to it.
“I want to be the one who calls you that,” Bucky said quietly. “Because when I look at you, that’s who I see. And because I…” He stopped himself, then shook his head. “I care about you. More than I probably should.”
The words settled between them.
John stared at him, chest tight, heart thudding painfully loud in his ears.
“You could’ve stopped me,” Bucky added, gentler now. “I wouldn’t have pushed.”
John’s voice came out rough. “I didn’t want to… Just didn’t know how to feel about it.”
That earned him Bucky’s full attention.
“And I love you too,” John said after a moment. “Really.”
Bucky’s breath hitched, just barely.
“But I’m scared,” John continued. “Not because I don’t feel it with all my heart, but I just have a bad track record with… everything. With people. I tend to fuck things up.”
Silence stretched, comfortable and heavy all at once.
John looked down at his hands, then back up.
“I understand, and… It’s not that I don’t want to be your boyfriend,” Bucky stated. ” I do. I just… If you’d rather wait, I won’t push it. We can go slow. I can wait.”
Bucky stepped closer, close enough that John could feel his presence without being touched.
A warm radiance was coming from Bucky.
“I don’t want to wait,” John said softly. “I want to be your boyfriend.”
Bucky smiled, small and real, like something fragile he trusted John with.
“Let’s date then,” Bucky said.
John let out a shaky laugh, turning back to the stove like it could anchor him.
“Food’s almost ready,” John muttered.
Bucky stayed.
By seven at night the food was ready and already served on the dinner table.
Everyone was expectant.
Should they be expecting something good?
Or something similar to Yelena’s level?
Bucky helped John place the plates around.
It definitely looked like top-tier food.
There was a lot, but it was quite fancy.
And the smell.
The smell was the best.
“You did this?” Bob’s mouth was watering.
“No, I magically teleported it here.”
“Did you use what I was making?” Yelena asked.
John looked at her. “Oh,” he said as if he just remembered what she was talking about. “That shit that isn’t edible? I throw it away.”
Yelena barely glared at him. As if she wanted to throw him some of her knives.
John took the apron off and sat down with the others. “What are you waiting for? Dig in.”
No one waited for more.
As if the food were enchanted, the room glimmered. Everyone was fascinated; it was definitely the best food they had had in months, maybe in years.
“This food deserves to be known around the world!” Alexei said with his mouth full. “There is more?”
“Of course.”
Ava was smiling while munching, a humming coming from her as if she was approving of it without using words.
Yelena’s previous annoyance disappeared after the first bite. Her face betrayed her, even when she wanted to keep frowning.
Bob was giggling. “Finally some real food.”
John acted as if the praises weren’t really important, but the smirk was there on his face.
Bucky reached John’s hand under the table. When he found it, John was startled a bit, but then his smirk changed; it was a smile, and his ears got pink.
Oh, what a great time.
This was definitely the best day.