Clint patted his flat stomach with a happy sigh. "Thanks, man." He grinned over at Bucky. "My cooking is for shit."
"No problem."
Clint studied him. "So, you're hiding out till we can get that Hydra crap out of your head, huh?"
Startled, Bucky nodded.
"We'll get it done," Clint said confidently. He hesitated, then, "I've had some experience in that line."
"Hey." Steve entered the kitchen, hair tousled and sleepy-eyed. He looked at the remains of breakfast and sighed. "Damn."
Without a word, Bucky rose, retrieved the covered plate from inside the oven and set it on the table.