"The Carrots Won't Tell"
"Don't worry. Hey, hey. Just keep `em steady."
Phil wrapped his arms around Bucky from behind and rested his hands over Bucky's shaking ones. The former Winter Soldier was holding the knife just right for chopping carrots, yet he hadn't even made one cut.
"Can't," Bucky choked out. "What if I hurt someone?"
"Carrots can't cry," Phil said. "Here, let me help you." He moved Bucky's hands, rubbing his thumb over cold skin. "That's it."
"I've hurt so many people…"
"It's human nature. If you're referring to the Winter Soldier, that was HYDRA's weapon. Not you." He paused briefly, and then rested his forehead against Bucky's upper back. "Maybe one day you'll believe that. In the meantime, help me make this soup for Bruce. You'll only be killing vegetables that way. Maybe you should become a vegetarian like him? Cut down on the guilt."
"Cut down on the guilt," Bucky muttered. "I see what you did there. Cute."
This was for International Knife Day. Or Knife Appreciation Day. I can't remember, but it was something like that, and of course I went the angst route. I couldn't go the circus route or something fun like that, oh no. It was tempting to make Bucky chop up onions, but I decided against that. There's an amazing story on AO3, though, about Jane getting Bucky to help her cook, and he's shocked that she's just trusting him with sharp knives and hot oil and things like that.
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