Steve helps Wanda make lunch, and they talk about home and friends.
"Hi, Miss Wanda," Steve said, coming into the kitchen.
"Hello, Steve," Wanda replied, wondering if he had any idea how adorable he looked in his little Captain America t-shirt.
"Whatcha makin'?" he asked, eyeing the peppers she was chopping up curiously.
"Paprikash," she said.
"What's that?"
"It's a meal from Sokovia," she said.
"That's where you're from, right?" he asked, pulling a stool over so that he could climb up and look into the pot. "I read about it."
"You did?" she asked, surprised.
"Uh huh. Last time Miss Natasha took me to the library, I got a book about it."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "I wanted to know about where you were from. That way if you wanted to talk about it or something, there would be somebody who knew what you were talking about."
Wanda smiled. That was terribly sweet.
"And," he said, smiling eagerly. "It had some words in it too!" He screwed up his face in concentration for a moment. "Zdravstvuyte," he said, absolutely butchering the pronunciation, but she thought he was probably trying to say hello.
"Hello to you too," she said with a laugh.
"Did I say it right?" he asked.
"Well…You were close." She coached him through it a couple of times, and he did get a little better. "You're getting better," she said. "But maybe you could start with an easier word. How about 'privyet'? That means 'hi'."
"Privyet," Steve repeated. "That one is easier." He said it a couple more times, then nodded to himself. "So, is paprikash something you would eat at home?"
Wanda nodded. "My mother taught me how to make it."
"My ma taught me how to make spaghetti," Steve said.
"That's a good one to know."
"What's in paprikash?" he asked. "Besides this pepper right here, I mean."
Wanda smiled. "You make it with chicken," she said, nodding at a bowl of chicken she'd set out to thaw earlier. "Then you make a sauce with the peppers and some tomato and other spices, and you eat it on top of something like noodles or potatoes."
"Is it very spicy?"
"It can be," she said. "I prefer it with sweeter peppers myself. You can try a little piece to see, if you'd like."
Steve eyed the pepper on the cutting board suspiciously, then, somewhat to Wanda's amusement, he looked up at the ceiling. "Miss F.R.I.D.A.Y., do you know if I can eat this?"
"Your most updated list of allergies does not include peppers, nor are they related to anything on your list," the A.I. replied. "I believe you should be safe to go ahead. Just in case," she added. "There is an Epipen in the silverware drawer."
Wanda hadn't thought of that—she hadn't been there for the incident with the mango juice—but she was glad Steve had.
"Okay," Steve said. "Thank you, ma'am."
"You're welcome," F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied.
Steve studied the pepper slices a moment longer, then picked up the littlest one and gingerly bit off a tiny piece. He chewed it thoughtfully, then took a marginally larger bite. "It's kind of spicy," he decided. "But not too bad. And it's kind of sweet. I like it a lot better than those peppers Mr. Clint likes. I haven't eaten them, but he sat down next to me one time with some on his plate and it made my eyes burn."
Wanda laughed. "He does like his peppers hot," she agreed. She nodded at the pot. "Would you like to learn how to make it?"
"Yeah!" he agreed.
She showed him how to cut up the pepper, and after she was sure he was using the knife safely, she let him continue while she seasoned the chicken. When he announced that he was done, she had to laugh at how very neatly he'd sliced the pepper up. He'd even 'fixed' the pieces she had already cut so that they matched the ones he did.
"Did I do something wrong?" he wondered.
"No, no," she assured him. "I just wasn't expecting you to cut the pepper up so evenly."
"But it's okay?" he clarified.
"Yes, it's okay. The pieces are all very nice and symmetrical."
He smiled at that.
"Okay, so, let's put the pepper into this bowl, then wash the pepper juice off your hands. Then can you get the minced garlic out of the fridge?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said, beginning the process of transferring his identically-proportioned pepper slices into the bowl. He washed his hands and walked to the fridge, then a harsh scraping sound on the floor pulled Wanda's attention around. Evidently, he could not reach the shelf with the minced garlic in the fridge, and was dragging his stool over so he could get it down. Wanda smiled at that.
"Okay," he said, coming back with the stool and the garlic. "What now?"
Wanda walked him through the next steps, and they measured out spices and broth and butter and she showed him the difference between simmering and boiling on the stovetop. She was reminded of being on the other side of this lesson with her mother, though she'd been even younger than Steve was now at the time. It was…surprisingly nice to pass this knowledge on.
Once they got the dish in the oven, the pair of them moved to the sink to clean the dishes while everything cooked.
"Do you get homesick for Sokovia?" Steve asked her.
"Sometimes, yes," she said. She didn't have anyone there anymore, and no real desire to return, but she still remembered fondly what it used to be. She looked down at Steve curiously. His attention was focused on the plate he was drying. "Do you get homesick?" she wondered. Although, seeing as he was technically still in New York, which was his home, perhaps timesick was a better word.
Steve kept his attention on the plate a moment longer. "Yeah," he said. He sighed. "But it…It's for things that aren't there anymore. You know?"
"I do," she said. "My home—the people and places I knew in Sokovia—it's not there anymore either."
Steve nodded. "It helps for me to have Bucky," he said. "He tries real hard to make sure I feel at home here." He looked up at her sadly. "Is there anybody that can do that for you?"
She nodded. "Not anyone who was as close to me as Bucky is to you," she said, not allowing herself to think about what it might be like adjusting to this new life if Pietro were here with her. "But Clint is…he's very good at helping lost people feel found. And Sam, he's easy to talk to. Everyone, really, they're trying very hard to make me feel welcome." She smiled down at her little friend. "Actually," she added. "You're very good at it too."
"I am?" he asked, surprised.
"Mm-hmm." She decided not to bring up the sympathy and guidance she received from his older self, unsure of how sensitive he still was about that. "When you come and just talk to me, like right now, or when you invite me to join in things…" She smiled warmly and brushed a hand over his hair. "It makes me feel like you like having me around, and that makes it much easier to feel at home."
Steve hopped down off the stool and flung his little arms around her waist. "I do like having you around," he told her, hugging her warmly.
She smiled happily and leaned down to press a soft kiss into his hair. "I like having you around too," she told him.
They finished with the dishes, and Wanda pulled two plates down from the cupboard. "It's almost time for lunch," she said. "Would you like some?"
"It's okay for me to have some?" he asked.
"Of course," she said with a laugh. "You did help make it, after all."
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I mean, since you made it special to feel more at home and all."
"I'm sure," she told him. "I'm happy to share."
She dished up two servings while Steve got glasses—she suggested he fill his with milk, just in case the spiciness of the peppers built up too much as he ate. "I can teach you another Sokovian phrase if you'd like," she said. "Something we can toast this fine meal with."
"Okay," Steve said eagerly.
She scooped up some chicken, sauce, and a noodle onto her fork, gesturing for Steve to do the same. "So, you would say 'k nashey druzhbe'. It's a toast to friendship."
"K nashey druzhbe," he tried.
"Very good!" she said. She lifted her fork, and they clinked them together, carefully, so as not to spill anything on the table.
"K nashey druzhbe!"
There's just something about a simple meal with friends that's hard to beat.
Up next, Steve gets the sniffles, and he's very grumpy about it. Bucky's had practice with a cranky, sick Steve, though.