AUTHORS NOTE: I am not a fluffy sort of person. At all. Ask any one. And yet the BuckyNat plot bunny took me hostage and I have no regrets. My onslaught of Captain America one shots cannot be contained. I am unstoppable.
"Hey." Natasha yawned as she shuffled into the kitchen, hand in her bed head hair. It looked like Bucky had pulled everything out of the cupboards but still hadn't found what he was looking for. His hair was falling out of his pony tail and was flecked with cake mix. Flour dusted his bed shirt. Splodges of ingredients dried on parts of his body it seemed impossible to get stained, no matter how messy someone was.
"Hey," He glanced up. His smile was small - which was typical of him nowadays - but it was still there, still getting more frequent. "Sorry, did I wake you?"
"No." Natasha shuffled further into the kitchen. "Are you baking?"
"I think so." Bucky sounded genuinely unsure about it. "I can't remember having ever done this before. So I'm not sure what I'm doing. Memory's not what it used to be, y'know…"
That didn't really answer any of Nat's questions.
"Why are you baking, James? It's 2 a.m."
From what Bucky did remember, he'd never really been a fan of his first name. He was Bucky. James had meant more to him after the Winter Soldier had remembered it, sure, but he knew he was still Bucky. When Nat said it though, somehow he didn't seem to mind.
"I had dreams and then I calmed down – but I couldn't get back to sleep. So I thought…cake."
Natasha took him in for a silent moment. Silent other than the clang of the ingredients Bucky was dolloping into bowls.
"Are you high?"
Bucky laughed, triggering a smirk on Natasha that she tried to keep controlled. Love was for children. Natasha Romanoff's famous line. Maybe she'd been a bit naive in thinking that. There had been Bruce. And then there wasn't Bruce. She'd loved. Oh boy had she loved. It had hurt when he left. It had hurt to move on. But she'd done it. All in all, the experience wasn't that bad. She hadn't seen it coming. Now there was Bucky. She hadn't seen that coming either. At all. But what could Nat say? She had a type. Apparently that type was dorks who had no control on when they turned into ruthless killing machines and who may have had their fertility screwed by science experiments. She didn't know why, but she couldn't help feeling that Bucky was better for her.
"No, I'm not high. Had a little coffee though."
Natasha approached the counter, it looked like the back stores of a bakery had exploded onto it. The orange light in the oven illuminated the stacks of cupcake trays already baking. Another dozen flavors of mix scattered the counter. Bucky didn't seem to be stopping any time soon.
"You're just cooking for all of America?" Nat guessed. She dipped her finger in one of the bowls and tried it. Oh. "You say you've never done this before?"
"I don't think so." Bucky glanced up to see her wipe the rest of the mix from her finger onto her pants. "Is it that bad?"
Nat didn't answer. She checked a few packets to make sure they were in date and changed the subject. Gradually making her way towards him.
"Your dreams. Want to talk about it?"
Bucky focused on the butter cream he was mixing.
"Same old, same old." Maybe the silence that followed should have been awkward. It wasn't really. They both knew what they went through. They didn't have to freak out about it anymore than they already did. "You're awake. What about you?"
"Same old, same old." Nat reiterated in a lighter tone. Bucky's wounds were fresher after all. She'd have nothing on him. Bucky pushed out another smile now that she was stood next to him. He lifted his spoon and wiped icing on her nose to defuse the tension.
"Boop."
Natasha's stare didn't break under the sugary ambush. It only became fiercely perplexed.
"What was that?"
They kept eye contact – but Bucky seemed to contemplate what he'd done with the same confusion.
"Endearing?"
Nat raised an eyebrow. And then smirked a little. And then she broke out into a laugh. Bucky's next smile wasn't so weak. Natasha was still laughing when she shoved her hand in a bag of flour, chucking a fistful of the stuff at him. Bucky flinched, hair becoming snowy as it hit him.
"That's how you're gonna play it?" Bucky was chuckling himself now. He took a spoon from a bowl of cake mix and flicked it at her. Nat cracked an egg against the side of his head. Bucky picked up an entire bag of flour and shook it out at her. Natasha picked up a clump of butter and smeared it down his chest. Bucky cracked another egg on the top of her head and showered her with cocoa powder. Natasha picked up a whisk and aimed it at him, finger over the power button. Bucky didn't want to know what she was going to do with it. He didn't have to find out. The oven started beeping between them. Right, of course, these ingredients had actually been there for baking purposes.
"Truce?" Bucky said, eyeing the cake mix dripping from the whisk.
"Truce." Natasha agreed, and dropped her weapon onto the counter. Egg yolk dropped from Bucky's head as he pulled the cake tray from the oven with his metal arm.
"Wow. No oven gloves?" Nat teased. "Sexy and dangerous. Raw egg suits you by the way."
"Oven gloves are for punks with adequate pain receptors." Bucky took out the rest of the trays and kicked the oven shut. "You don't look too bad in flour, either."
"This is a mess, though." Nat smiled. "It's probably going to take ages to shower it off."
"I should bake more often then." Bucky's laugh was tired again. It didn't mean he wasn't happy. Bucky thought he was getting rather good at being happy, all things considered. It was just that, there was no escaping the Winter Soldier. He was the only person alive to know that. Which kinda proved his point. He watched Nat wipe her eggy-cocoa hair out of her face. Yeah, he was getting better at being happy.
AUTHORS NOTE 2; THIS TIME IT'S PERSONAL: I'm not comfortable with this fan fiction to be honest, but I'm posting it anyway. I have other stories of more general cute marvel friendships that I'm happier with (If interested check out my profile). Feedback and such would be appreciated. Until next time; I'm out, bitches.