Work Text:
“No, Nana. I’m not being a Scrooge.” TJ said into the speaker as he walked across his apartment, stringing lights. “I just don’t want some florist to come in and “Magazine Up” my apartment. I want to do it myself. Trust me, I was singing Christmas carols while untangling lights before you called.”
“I just don’t want you to be alone.”
“Yeah.” TJ sighed. “I know. I get it, bad track record, but I’m not. Look.” TJ trailed the length of lights back to where the phone was resting on the coffee table. He took a selfie with the lights twinkling behind him. “I’m not making it up.”
“Cute. It doesn’t mean that you’re not alone.”
“How does having some stranger come in and spread evergreen boughs, which I could do myself, compensate for me being alone? I’m fine, I promise.” TJ looked at the text display that popped up on his phone. “Here’s further proof, I just got a message from a friend inviting me for Christmas goodies. Nana, you know I’ll see everyone at the parties.”
“You’d better plan on seeing me before then.” Margaret said with authority.
TJ said ‘goodbye’ and ended his call with a wry smile, he’d been battling the lonesome blues alright, but he thought he was doing ok. He called Steve instead of returning the text. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Well, it’s like I said, cookies. Fresh out of the oven, how do you feel about that?”
“Wow, this early in the day?” TJ teased, draping the last length of twinkling lights across the archway between the living room and the kitchen, “What came over you.”
“It’s Christmas.” Steve replied, “Time of giving. You get to sample the goods, if you’re home, which I know you are, judging by the hammering and Christmas carols.”
“I see you’ve decided to become a P.I.” TJ chuckled as he juggled the box of Christmas decorations he grabbed on the way out, and his phone while he closed his door behind him, “I’m coming now.”
Steve was waiting, holding his door open, when TJ got upstairs. He looked at TJ suspiciously, “What the hell?”
“It’s Christmas. Time of giving.” TJ parroted Steve’s words from moments before. “I’ve seen your humbug apartment, and we’re not having any more of that.”
Steve took the box, poking through it as he carried it over to his drafting table. “Smells good.” He said as he pulled out a pine wreath sporting a flattened, red flocked bow.
“I was about to say the same for your kitchen. Don’t get too attached to that bow, I have something different in mind.” TJ wandered through the kitchen, noting the rack of sugar cookies, and the aromatic spicy cookies cooling next to them. “Wow, you really are in the giving mood. Are you sure nothing else is bothering you?”
“Nah, there are a lot of neighbors.” Steve noticed that TJ didn’t buy his answer, by the way he leaned back on both elbows on a clear space on the counter and cocked his head eyeing Steve. “I just have to keep busy. Being alone at Christmas is harder than I’d like to admit. In fact, I didn’t admit to anything just now either.”
“Tough guy routine huh?” TJ watched as Steve continued to unpack garland and lights from the box. He really had intended on using the stuff in his apartment, but he was glad he’d grabbed it at the last minute. “I understand. Being alone sucks.”
“Yeah, something like that.” Steve smiled, raising the wreath to his nose, inhaling the pine scent, “Are you sure you don’t need this stuff?”
“I can get more. So which one is a sample cookie?” TJ looked again at the seemingly endless trays stacked on cooling racks.
Steve stopped organizing the Christmas items he’d pulled out of the box, and looked up at TJ. “Sorry, I’m a crappy host. Take your pick, there’s another batch in the oven. Sugar cookies should be ready to decorate within the hour, if you want to try your hand at that too.”
“I can’t say they’d be much worth gifting to anyone, unless you’re planning to give them to the visually impaired.”
“I’ll just include a note on all of yours, “please look at these while squinting and tilting your head just so. Also, TJ Hammond in 23 decorated this batch.” Do you think that’ll do the trick?”
“Ooh, you are a smartass.” TJ said as he took a big bite of one of the warm, spicy cookies. “Mmm… good cook though.”
“So I’ve been told.” Steve smirked, unwinding red and white ribbon from the supplies TJ had brought. “Are you better at making bows than you are with comedy?”
“I can tie my shoes, does that count?” TJ grinned, holding a hand out for the length of ribbon, “I’ve seen it done, can’t say I’ve ever paid too much attention. You’re good at picking things up, maybe you could do it after watching one and a half YouTube videos?”
“One.” Steve replied, relinquishing the end of the ribbon to TJ in favor of his tablet.
“Ooh, one then, you’re on, big shot.” TJ challenged with a laugh, crossing to Steve’s drafting table. He spotted an old, yellowed card with handwriting that rivaled his grandmother’s in its period signature cursive, “Mrs. Barnes.” TJ muttered to himself.
Steve, not yet completely engrossed in a video, looked up. “Bucky’s Ma.”
TJ looked at Steve, not sure what to say, Bucky Barnes hadn’t been mentioned yet in their get-togethers. He had been curious, after his neighbor’s identity had been revealed, and unlike many, TJ didn’t want Sergeant Barnes’ head.
“I almost didn’t get the cookies started when I found that plus a cookie recipe in my own Ma’s handwriting. It’s been quite a day.”
“And yet, you opened yourself up to ridicule by inviting me to be your recipe guinea pig.” TJ intentionally skipped over any chances of stepping into the emotional side of things, knowing that was his purpose here right now, a friendly ear and a distraction.
“I did. It worked, you’ve sampled one of the recipes and liked it, and lived, I’ll point out, and right on schedule, you’ve already started to ridicule me. Here, hand that back.” Steve took the ribbon, following along with the video to loop a bow. “Cut off a length of that wire.”
“Yes sir.” TJ teased, snipping the floral wire he’d been sold along with the ribbon. Steve wired the loopy pompom he held in his hand, following the video directions, and making it look – shockingly – like a bow. “Shit, I’ll just stop now. How do you just know everything?”
“I don’t, but I have a decent memory.” Steve handed the bow to TJ. “I take it you wanted to replace the squashed one?”
“I did, but to tell the truth, I thought I’d be doing it and I’d just be replacing a squashed bow with a striped, squashed bow. If you ever get tired of Avenging, you should look into something like gift wrap or floral design.”
Steve set the tablet on the counter and pulled out ingredients to make icing for the sugar cookies. He turned to the oven when the timer buzzed, pulling out the last tray of cookies.
“I mean – Steve – don’t get me wrong, those aren’t slams.”
“I didn’t think they were, nothing wrong with an artistic career, maybe those two particular choices don’t appeal to me, but art? Baking? Yeah, I could really get into either of those. I don’t know that one successful bow would make me into any kind of floral designer.”
“Ok, good. I didn’t want to offend you. Jeez, one phone call with Nana and I’m getting paranoid that I’m making other people feel uncomfortable.”
“Was it a tough call?” Steve asked, measuring ingredients into a bowl.
“No, I mean, the call? It was what they always are. “Shouldn’t be alone for the holidays”. I’m sure she means well, I’m also sure I’m being unfair calling her out for checking on me because of my…” TJ breathed, leaning against the counter, his hands butted against the edge, his elbows locked. “I tried to kill myself at Christmas time. It’s not as though any of us can forget, but it seems like they all think they need to remind me. She wanted to send a florist to “spruce” up my apartment.”
“Pun intended?” Steve whipped the icing in the large bowl by hand.
“Of course.” TJ answered over the thump-thump of the spoon whipping the icing in the bowl. “Don’t you have a mixer? I know what to get you for Christmas.”
“You know what a mixer is?” Steve smirked. “I grew up with Bucky, watching our mothers do it this way, and I have an advantage. Do me a favor, grab a few bowls so we can have a few colors to choose from.”
“I think you just implied I’m too spoiled and removed from reality to know about kitchen appliances.” TJ frowned, setting the bowls on the counter in front of the pots of food coloring.
“If I was out of line, I’m sorry.”
“No, over all, you’re right.” TJ grinned, sampling the icing as Steve set the bowl down. “This reminds me, would you come with me tomorrow to see the Whitehouse gingerbread house?”
“Is that a thing?” Steve looked up from transferring icing into one of the smaller bowls, “If that’s a real thing, yes, I want to go.”
“You haven’t googled “Whitehouse Gingerbread”?” TJ teased, “I mean it’s not national security or anything but it’s a must see. If you’re free, we could leave here around 11:30 and grab lunch while we’re out.”
TJ watched as Steve colored the first bowl, getting it a rich red. He worried that his idea would be taken the wrong way, but practiced not apologizing. If it was an issue, he trusted Steve to say something, even if his instincts were screaming at him to tell Steve ‘I’m not hitting on you or anything’, TJ was successful in resisting giving in to the urge.
“Did you have someplace in mind? I’m always up for a recommendation. Do you think this is red enough?”
TJ was shocked, yet again, that when it came to Steve, his intentions weren’t questioned. “Looks good. I think we should use a brighter, lighter green with that. I think most bakers make their green too dark.”
“So, Kelly green?” Steve started adding green to the second bowl, “Hey, grab a bowl and do your thing, TJ.”
“Really?” TJ hesitated, “I’m no artist.”
“I’m no pastry chef. We’re just playing with cookies TJ. Let’s double up to get these colors mixed so we can start covering those cookies before the icing hardens.”
Straightforward and simple, ‘play with me, and let’s forget there are rules’. That was something that was pretty foreign to TJ, and he realized was even more so for Steve. If you could’t play at Christmas, when could you? TJ started mixing blue into a bowl, a light frosty blue, for snowflakes and Santa’s eyes. “Ok, let’s fuck shit up.”
Steve laughed, and angled his bowl toward TJ for a color critique. “Your green?”
“Looks good. So, how many cookies are we about to ruin?”
“Just a few dozen.”
“Oh, ok. I see you didn’t really call me up to sample cookies, but for slave labor.”
“They did pile up a bit more than I’d intended. I might have had ulterior motives. Find some good Christmas music to keep you interested.”
“You’re the most commanding SOB I’ve met, and my mother is President.” TJ tilted his own bowl for Steve’s color inspection.
“Part of the job. You’re not under any obligation to comply, just keep telling me when I get out of line. So, about your less than happy Christmas, you’re not suicidal now, right? I mean, you’d talk to me before going to that extreme again, wouldn’t you?”
“No, I’m not. It’s been a few years, and yeah, I think I could come to you if – if you wouldn’t think it was a burden.”
“No. Don’t ever worry about that, if you ever need to talk about anything that serious, or even complaints about unwelcome florists, don’t think you’re a burden TJ.”
“Door swings both ways, Steve. I’m glad you called me to decorate cookies. You should never have to decorate a million of these things alone.”
“Or just be alone. Message received.” Steve started transferring icing to pastry bags, “This is where things start to get interesting.”
“You mean chaotic and disastrous.” TJ smirked, as he found holiday music on Steve’s system.
“I don’t think you’ve learned the right definition of chaos, or disaster, TJ.” Steve laughed, handing TJ a green filled bag. “Trees. You’re on tree duty.”
“Oh hell.” TJ groaned, “You baked a literal cookie forest, why aren’t there more Santas?”
“You have a real gift for exaggeration TJ.” Steve teased as he showed TJ how to use the piping bag on a piece of waxed paper.
“Family curse. Where did you learn to do this? Have you done this before?” TJ tried not to make a complete mess of things as he followed Steve’s direction.
“I watched a video.” Steve set a tray of sugar cookies in front of TJ. “No, today we’ll both find out what we’re made of.”
“I’m afraid I’m made of whatever goo is inside this bag. This won’t be pretty.”
“That’s the best part.” Steve announced with glee, “We get to eat the ugly ones.”