Prompt from jbarnesrogers on Tumblr who requested Steve/Bucky and making breakfast.


It's a simple thing really.

Breakfast. One meal of three each day, prepared and eaten like any other.

When Steve lived alone in DC, breakfast was cereal and coffee with the occasional bagel to keep things interesting. Once upon a lifetime, it was eggs and bacon and orange juice, toast with strawberry jam when funds allowed. That was before the ice, before…well, just before.

Bucky turns up at Steve's new Brooklyn apartment tired, filthy, and looking worn down to his very core. Steve barely hears the whisper of his name as Bucky succumbs to exhaustion and shuts down without warning. After that breakfast, lunch, dinner—meals are merely a means to an end, a necessity for Bucky to recover his strength even if he still barely remembers anything. They spend the days tip-toeing around one another, rediscovering the ins and outs of a relationship that used to be as natural as breathing. There isn't any time for thoughts of before.

As Bucky progresses, Steve introduces him to the team one by one.

Nat stares Bucky down for half an hour, the tensest 30 minutes of Steve's life, but by the end Bucky is nodding at her with a tentative grin and Natasha is smiling. Sam comes in joking around and sitting them down for "a non-geeked out crash course on smartphones and social media". Steve catches him softly reassuring Bucky that things will get better and "I'm quite the listener if I do say so myself." Tony waltzes in with buckets of popcorn and insists on a weekend marathon of Star Wars ("I'm assigning you the original Star Trek series for homework next weekend"). Clint drops in, hands Bucky a business card (did that say Brainwashed Heroes Club?), challenges him to a snipe-off, and that's that. Bruce visits the most, pulling Bucky aside to meditate or talk or just hang out in comfortable silence. Bruce's dry slightly self-deprecating humor seems to be the biggest hit with Bucky, drawing more than one chuckle and on a few occasions, full-on tear-filled laughter.

A year and a half after Bucky first moves in with him, Steve finds himself spending the nights curled around his best friend in a juxtaposition of their previous roles, feeling the first stirrings of hope.

They move into Avengers Tower at Tony's insistence and it isn't at all as awkward as Steve expected. Everyone interacts comfortably, bonding over movie nights, Super Smash Brothers tournaments, and the impromptu welcome-back-from-saving-the-nine-realms party they threw for Thor when he finally returned. Bucky sleeps most nights through now, face nuzzled into Steve's neck, warming his skin with soft steady wuffs of air.

6 Months Later…

Steve wakes alone.

He's pleasantly surprised to realize that this no longer sends him into immediate panic mode. Sometimes Bucky runs, other times he goes up to the roof where he sits for a couple hours in silent contemplation. Steve knows this, knows it and almost falls back asleep burrowing into the warmth that hasn't left the sheets.

His stomach eventually drives him from his nest, roiling and gurgling with loud hungry demands. He washes up then pads down the hall absentmindedly, fingers running through his hair and exacerbating the messy blonde strands. A low upbeat hum pulls Steve from his morning stupor, drawing his gaze to the kitchen. He creeps forward, a grin slowly stretching his lips as finds the source.

Steve leans in the doorway, mouth watering at the scent of bacon sizzling on the stove, listening with a smile to the pop of grease and soft muttered curses as some of it lands on exposed flesh. Bucky's back is to Steve, hips swaying to the beat has he hums. Steve smothers a chuckle as he spots the pink ties of the Kiss the Cook apron Clint bought him (a result of the team dinner wherein the verdict on Steve's cooking was unanimous. Culinary master he most certainly is not). He flicks a glance at their small kitchen table and feels tears spring to his eyes.

It's neatly set for two, glasses of orange juice sitting in wait and a plate stacked with a small tower of toast in the center. There's even a jar of strawberry jam set aside.

Steve feels his chest swell with an overwhelming fondness for the man standing across from him. For the first time in, well, decades, everything feels right. He has his friends, a place to call home, and he has Bucky. Bucky who is friend and lover and everything that Steve has ever needed or wanted. For the first time there's no pain in thinking of before, and those thoughts are followed by the even better thought of tomorrow.

"You gonna stand there all day staring at my ass, punk?"

Steve chuckles and closes the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Bucky's waist despite his squawk of protest.

"Jerk," he murmurs, leaning his chin on Bucky's metal shoulder.

"Kisses later or we'll be eating charcoal for breakfast," Bucky huffs and Steve kisses his neck in response.

"Probably shouldn't wear that apron then."

Bucky groans.

Steve relents with one last kiss, extracting the last few slices of bacon from the pan and taking the plateful to the table.

Bucky brings a bowl full of steaming eggs a few minutes later, placing it at the center of the table before turning to Steve and giving him a pointed look.

"Well?"

"I thought you wanted kisses later?"

"Stove's off, food's ready," Bucky growls. "It is later."

Steve pulls Bucky in without further delay, tongue delving in to explore the warm cavern of Bucky's mouth. It lasts for one long, heart-pounding, gloriously perfect moment.

Then Bucky's pulling back, lips kiss-swollen and eyes dancing. "Now let's eat."

Steve digs into the food as his stomach voices its protest at the hold-up, but he doesn't miss the leer Bucky sends his way. His heart feels lighter than it has in decades.

It's not just breakfast this morning. It's the promise of a bright tomorrow.