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“Is something wrong?” Steve asked Bucky.
Bucky just about snapped the wooden spoon in his hand in half. He’d been stirring together the ingredients needed for…
He couldn’t remember.
Bucky did snap the wooden spoon in half when he couldn’t recall what the hell he had been making.
“Fine.” Bucky grunted. He bent to pick up the pieces of the broken spoon, hugging the bowl of some kind of batter to his chest.
“You don’t seem ‘fine.’” Steve had his hands raised like he wanted to reach out and touch Bucky. It was probably only because Bucky had snapped at him the last few times that Steve had tried that Steve wasn’t yanking Bucky into a bear hug.
Bucky tossed the spoon in the garbage and slammed the bowl of batter onto the counter.
He heard Steve inhale, preparing to talk to Bucky until Bucky opened up, when Tony waltzed into the kitchen. His tie was undone and he looked like he’d spent the last hour running his hands through his hair. His eyes scanned the room and landed on the bowl Bucky had set down. “What are you making?”
Before Bucky could answer. Tony crossed the room, swept his finger through the batter, and licked it off his finger.
Steve wrinkled his nose. “Tony.”
Tony made a show of smacking his lips. “Oh chill, Capsicle.” He hummed contentedly. “So are we having cake or cupcakes?” He asked Bucky.
Bucky blinked. Was Tony taking a wild guess or had he really been able to determine what batter Bucky had made with just a taste?
“Personally,” Tony strolled over to the coffee maker, “I’d make cupcakes. Easier to divvy up. Also no plates or forks necessary to eat them with.”
Bucky nodded in consideration. “…I don’t have any frosting.”
Tony loaded the coffee maker and flicked the “start” switch. “It can’t be that hard to make from scratch. FRIDAY, pull up a few recipes.” Tony directed his attention to Bucky. “You a chocolate or vanilla kind of guy? Or are you more wild? I’m sure we could make blueberry frosting. That is a thing, right, FRIDAY?”
“It is,” FRIDAY answered. “Would you like me to send the information to your tablet or—”
“Just project it somewhere around here.” Tony sifted through the cupboards and pulled out a large mixing bowl. Tony turned and froze when he noticed Bucky and Steve were staring at him. “What? I get more cupcakes if I help, don’t I?”
“Bucky might not want to share, Tony,” Steve spoke delicately. “You should ask first.”
Bucky shrugged. “I don’t care. I just…” Bucky frowned at the spoon he’d disposed of. “…I just need a new spoon.”
Tony beamed, strode across the kitchen and yanked a spoon out from one of the drawers. “I get at least two cupcakes for this.”
Bucky took the spoon from Tony and nodded. “Yeah. …where’s the cupcake tray?”
Bucky scowled at the banana bread recipe before him. He swore the page had said white sugar, not brown, a few minutes ago.
Bucky growled in aggravation and grasped strands of his hair.
“‘Grr’ to you too.” Tony wandered into the kitchen. He lay his crossed arms on the counter and batted his eyelashes at Bucky.
He was covered in oil.
Bucky snatched up the bowl he was using and hugged it protectively. He scrunched his nose against Tony’s stench; he smelled like an auto shop.
Tony frowned and pulled away from Bucky. He held up his hands in a sign of surrender. “Whoa. Okay. Did not mean to make you panic. FRIDAY says I need to eat though, and she told me you were making something.” He scowled. “She made it sound like you were almost done cooking it too, but I see that’s a lie.”
“I did not lie, boss. You didn’t ask for an estimated time of completion.”
“There’s a community college just waiting for you, FRIDAY,” Tony quipped.
“Will you wash yourself already?” Bucky snapped. “I don’t want any of your gunk in my cookin’.”
Tony blinked then looked himself over. He tugged on his shirt and eyed one particularly large stain. He whistled appreciatively. “Yup, that’s pretty bad.” He winked at Bucky. “Save me some food while I shower?”
Bucky grunted.
“I’ll take that as an affirmative.” Tony dashed out of the kitchen.
Bucky stared at the recipe in front of him. It still said brown sugar.
Bucky groaned, drawing his hand down his face.
Bucky squatted and banged his head on the counter. He didn’t bother lifting his head from the counter; he just didn’t have the energy or mental capacity to face the world right now.
He couldn’t even remember what sugar to use within the span of seconds; how the hell was he supposed to remember what was significant about today? Ever since the clock had struck midnight and announced a new day, Bucky had been plagued by the sense of something important, but he didn’t know what the important thing was. Was it someone’s birthday? An anniversary? Something to do with Hydra?
He had no way of knowing.
Bucky’s fingers gripped the counter, just short of applying enough pressure to break it.
“Did you hit your head or something?” Tony’s voice proceeded his footsteps and the scent of soap.
Tony stopped next to Bucky and looked into the bowl of ingredients then at the recipe lying next to it.
Bucky hung his head low in shame.
Tony scoffed. “So you added white sugar instead of brown. Whatever. We can make it anyway, or start over. Not like you’re living in the Depression anymore. Although, with all the brooding you’re doing I’m sure you could convince most that you are.”
Tony went over to the garbage and poured the ingredients into it. He carried the bowl back over to the counter and slapped Bucky on the shoulder. “Up. You need to feed me.”
Bucky didn’t rise. “Why do I need to feed you?” He grumbled.
“Because I am a child.”
Bucky lifted his head to hit Tony with a deadpan stare.
Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “I am, Mr. Approaching a hundred.”
“I got a few more years until then.”
“Yeah, and I am still half your age and hungry.” He shoved Bucky’s shoulder. “Feed me.”
Bucky rolled his eyes. “All right, all right. You pain in the ass. Does it have to be banana bread?”
“A sandwich will do for now, but I want cookies.”
“You demanding shit.” Bucky marched over to the fridge and pulled out tomatoes, cheese, and lettuce. “You gonna want Mayo?”
“Just a little.” Tony grinned and hopped onto the counter. He swung his legs like a little kid. “I can help you make the cookies.” Tony cooed in an exaggerated manner. “It will create the classic scene between parent and child. Such warm and fond memories.”
Bucky set down the items for Tony’s sandwich, and sent Tony another deadpan look. “This isn’t some future kink thing is it? I think I read something about that.”
Tony held up a finger. “One: Freud. Don’t know him? Look him up. He existed before even you were born, and let’s just say, had some very interesting ideas about parents and children. So shut up with your future shaming. Two: is there a reason you’re asking?” Tony wiggled his eyebrows.
“Future… shaming?”
Tony nodded. “Steve does it all the time. Like all the new things the future offers—or you know, what the future is finally honest about—are somehow strange or inferior to the past.”
“Steve seems pretty progressive.”
“Most days, but every now and then he’ll make a comment. It’s annoying.” Tony leaned forward to get a look at the sandwich Bucky was making. “Are you done yet? I’m hungry.”
Bucky mulled over his answer. He looked over his shoulder and smirked at Tony. “No, but I might make it faster if you call me ‘Daddy.’” Bucky turned back to his work.
He heard a loud bang come from Tony’s side of the kitchen and whirled.
Tony had spilled onto the floor. His eyes were wide and he clutched his heart. “I think I just had the best heart attack.”
Bucky shook his head at Tony’s antics. “I’m not kissing you better.”
It was three in the morning when Bucky’s stomach rumbled and brought him to the communal kitchen. He was shocked when he walked into a wonderland of baked good stacked high to the ceiling and a disheveled Tony sitting on the floor, three mixing bowls encircling him and another in his lap.
Gray bags hung from Tony’s eyes, which had turned red and watery from lack of sleep.
Bucky didn’t say anything right away. He just scanned the scene until something caught his eye. “Is that an gingerbread city?” Bucky cocked his chin at aforementioned edible city across the entirety of one counter.
Tony nodded.
“…Why?”
Tony snorted. “Why not?”
“It’s not the right season, for one.” Bucky walked over to Tony. He grabbed a dishtowel from the sink and dampened it. “For another, don’t you usually build robots? Real ones. Not gingerbread ones.” Bucky crouched next to Tony.
He took Tony’s chin in his hand and wiped away the flour and dough on Tony’s face.
“FRIDAY kicked me out of my workshop. I haven’t slept in over seventy-two hours.”
Tony leaned his head against the cupboards and looked up at Bucky. “So you know, if you wanted to kiss me better, now would be a good time because I’d have to dismiss it as a hallucination after I get some sleep.”
Bucky scoffed, dabbing Tony’s face and neck. “Not really into kissing guys who can’t take care of themselves. It reinforces bad behavior. Try again after you’ve slept, showered, and eaten a proper meal. Maybe I’ll reward ya.”
Tony smiled. “I’ll remember that, hallucination-Bucky.”
Bucky sighed and stopped cleaning Tony’s face. “Okay. Real talk. Why aren’t you sleeping?”
“Don’t feel like it.”
“Tony.”
“Bucky.”
Bucky and Tony stared each other down. When Bucky realized he wasn’t going to get an answer, Bucky dropped his gaze and tried a different approach. “Fine then. Why baking?”
Tony blinked wide eyes up at Bucky.
“What?” Bucky demanded, slightly irritated. He’d been having trouble sleeping all night, so he was on a short fuse.
“Because it’s what you do,” Tony answered. “You seem to calm down after you bake something. I thought I’d try.” Tony shrugged. “It only works while I’m baking.” He gestured to all of the baked goods he’d made. “Thus, the beginnings of my very first bakery. I just need to decide on a name.”
Bucky wasn’t sure what surprised him more. The fact that, he’d developed a habit of stress-baking that he was unaware of, or the fact that Tony had decided to copy his habit. “Sticky Buns?”
“What?” Tony asked.
“Sticky Buns.” Bucky shrugged. “For your bakery’s name. You’d actually have to make sticky buns, but I thought you’d appreciate the innuendo.”
Tony grinned. “I do. I think we need to go more subtle though. Maybe Buns, Buns, and more Buns?”
“You think that’s more subtle?”
“I’m open to more suggestions.”
And that was how Bucky spent the remainder of his morning, in addition to helping Tony bake the rest of the sweets and treats he’d been working on prior to Bucky’s arrival.
Hours spent brainstorming innuendoes for Tony’s imaginary bakery. Arguable one of the best or worst uses of Bucky’s time. He had fun though.
By the end of it Bucky was relaxed and exhausted enough that he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.
“Are you two making lemon pound cake?” Clint craned his head into the kitchen. He sniffed the air and smiled. “Whatever it is, it smells delicious.”
Tony huffed and rolled his shoulders. “It’s been a long day.”
Bucky nodded in agreement as he worked on making the glaze.
Sam popped his head into the kitchen too. “You two need to find a new way to relax. All of us are getting fat.”
“Ask Steve to train with you more,” Bucky stated.
Sam and Clint visibly shuddered then disappeared.
Tony snickered. “I guess the prestige of training with Steve does eventually wear off.” Tony’s smile dimmed. He let out a long and tired sigh. He trudged over to the closest chair and slumped down in it.
Bucky paused. “What’s wrong?”
Tony waved off Bucky’s question. “Sorry. Not even baking can help me clear my thoughts. Just give me a few minutes.”
Bucky nodded. He took over where Tony had left off with the batter.
Two minutes later Tony stood, shook his head, and went toward the exit. “Sorry. I think lab time is the best time for now.”
Bucky nodded, but frowned. Tony and him had only just started baking together, but he really enjoyed the experience. He was disappointed.
Bucky worked quietly on the lemon pound cake. As the cake cooked, his fingers twitched with anxiety and he soon found himself making a second cake. A smaller cake. Something that only two people could eat. He sifted through the trays and sheets in the cabinets, finding ones that hadn’t been there before (Tony must have added to the collection), when he stumbled upon one that made him sweat nervously.
Maybe Tony would get the wrong idea, but there was a part of Bucky that knew the tray he’d found would be perfect for what he had in mind. So shoving down his worries, Bucky made a small cake for Tony.
He jumped between his lemon cake and his Tony one, giving each the attention they needed until both were complete.
Bucky set Tony’s cake on a plate and went to the lab with it.
He swallowed hard when he reached the lab. His legs were stiff as he headed toward Tony, who was slouched over one of his many contraptions.
Bucky cleared his throat to get Tony’s attention.
Tony looked up, and Bucky slid the cake onto the desk closest to Tony.
Tony’s eyes widened.
A small, red, heart-shaped cake with yellow lettering said: “Feel Better.” Underneath, Bucky had drawn a star.
Tony gaped.
Heat raced to Bucky’s cheeks and he looked away. “I’m not declaring my love you or anything, but…I like you, and I like spending time with you. So whenever you feel better, can you help me make baklava?”
A smile broke out across Tony’s face. He picked up the cake, drew his finger across the frosting, and licked the frosting off with a satisfied hum. “I’d love to.” He winked at Bucky.
Bucky’s stomach twisted in knots, but the good kind. The kind he was sure he’d experience when he’d asked his first girl and boy out. It had been a while since he asked anyone out, so he wasn’t surprised that he was nervous.
So he smiled and clamped Tony on the shoulder. “Thanks, because I’d really hate to mess up the ingredients again.”