Previously:
Bucky eyed the kid for a second from top to bottom. He knew Tim Dugan. Tim Dugan was his delivery boy from one of the local shops the young chef frequented. Dugan was stocky, built like a wall really with broad shoulders and the start of a good mustache already. He tore his eyes away from this kid as he shut the door firmly behind him.
This was no Tim Dugan, so just who exactly was this kid standing in the middle of his kitchen leaving an ever growing puddle.
"Don't move."
It wasn't a request, it wasn't a question. As Bucky turned, his back to the boy, the light glinted first off his left arm and then off the firearm wedged in his waistband. Normally one to snark back about everything the kid stayed silent. A hard shiver ran down his back and whether it was from cold or fear he wasn't completely sure himself.
"Tim Dugan huh?" he said ducking into the small laundry room off the back of the kitchen.
"Yeah, what's it matter?"
There was a tang to the boy's words, a familiar one, it sounded like Bucky's old neighborhood. Bright blue eyes glanced around the spotless kitchen taking in every gleaming surface and sharp edge.
"Well as a matter of fact…" A large blue towel hit the boy square in the face muffling the brunette's words. "I know Tim Dugan quite well. His dad owns the butcher shop I go to for specialty cuts. Now there's two things I know about Tim Dugan, first he always goes by Dumb Dumb, not Tim or Timothy; and two you most certainly are not him."
The blonde stood dumbfounded. His small stature seemed to shrink even more having been caught in his lie. Bucky had once against disappeared into the small laundry room. He returned a moment later to find the boy still standing in the same spot, the same dumb look on his face.
"So I'll tell you again, tell me who you are, the truth this time, and I'll feed you." He came to a stop a few steps from the frail boy. The chef held out a small pile consisting of dry clothes and a second towel. "Name?" Reaching out hesitantly the boy took the pile, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. It was clear to Bucky that he was having some sort of internal conflict. Finally the boy spoke.
"Steve Rogers."
"Alright Rogers bathroom is through there. Change out of those wet clothes and I'll get started on some chow." Blue eyes stared back at him in shock.
"You're for real?" The question was hesitant and his voice had a slight chatter as the coolness of the kitchen sent shivers all through the young boy.
"Would you just go change before I change my mind?" Bucky's eyes glinted with laughter as he glanced over his shoulder at the boy. "You allergic to anything?" It was a bit random but as a chef it was one of the first thing Bucky always asked someone when cooking for them. Steve shook his head as he wandered away in search of the bathroom.
Once the door was closed Steve got to work stripping off his soaked clothes. His hands were shaking and upon glancing in the mirror there was a slight blue tint to his lips.
Who is this guy anyway?
His mind wandered as he stripped down to his boxers before turning his attention to the nearly folded, still slightly warm, pile sitting on the bathroom counter. The tile floor was cool and slick beneath his flat bare feet.
"You alright in there?" Bucky's shout was muffled by the heavy door.
"Yeah, I'll be out in a sec" Steve called back as his hands dove into the pile. First he grabbed the fluffy towel on the top and rubbed himself. It was fluffy but still a bit course like it had been well used. Once that was done he unfolded the blue sweatpants. The corners of his mouth tugged up as he slid on the slightly warm sweats. They were far too long and baggy for the lanky young man. After tugging the draw cord as tight as he could get it Steve rolled first the waistband followed by the cuffs until they fit, well fit better. Thin nimble fingers brushed across the soft worn cotton t-shirt. Tugging it on he smiled again seeing the design reflected back in the mirror.
The grey shirt sported the outline of a flying monkey with the phrase "Don't make me call my flying monkeys" sprawled across it in a funky blue font. Rapping on the door pulled his view from the mirror.
"Steve man come on I'm hungry" Bucky called from the other side of the door. For that brief moment it almost seemed like they had known each other for ages.
"Yeah I know. I said I was coming" Steve replied tugging open the door. A wash of warm air and spices hit Steve like a wall. "What is that smell?" His words were barely a breath. A playful smirk pulled at Bucky's pink lips.
"You'll just have to wait and find out kid. Have a seat." The blonde noticed the small counter along the edge of the kitchen and scrambled up into the nearest empty seat. "So Steve, care to tell me why you were in my trash?"
A small basket of rolls along with a plate of dipping oil was sitting out for the boy. His mouth was full of bread before the question had hit the air. A mumbled answer tried to sneak out through the bread.
"Didn't your mama teach you not to speak with your mouth full?" Those brilliant blue eyes glared back at the young chef through floppy blonde bangs. "Now if you'd kindly repeat that."
"Oh no, you asked for my name, that's all you're getting." Thin wiry arms folded across his shallow chest. The brunette simply turned back to his work and remained quiet. "So you uh, you want to tell me what you're making?" His spindly neck craned as he tried to see what was on the stove.
"I told you, you'll have to wait and see."
Two big serving bowls waited patiently on the counter as he worked. The scents of garlic, ginger, and citrus filled the shining kitchen as the two men remained silent; only the sounds of the chef at work filled the quiet room. Finally Bucky turned a pot in one hand and a sauté pan in the other.
Each bowl welcomed a bed of rice noodles followed by a steaming concoction full of cabbage, leek, and other vegetables. Crispy strips of perfectly cooked chicken rested across the top. Steve leaned in taking a deep breath, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips bringing a pink touch to his cheeks and ears.
"It smells amazing. What is it?" he asked reaching for the bowl in Bucky's outstretched hand. The chef paused for a moment letting the boy dig in.
"Doesn't really have a name. My friend Nat calls them her red room noodles, something about the school she went to as a kid." The blonde barely seemed to register the words headed in his direction. He was halfway through the bowl already and barreling rapidly toward the bottom. "Easy now, you'll make yourself sick wolfing it down like that."
Steve stopped for a moment and glanced up. A stray noodle hung from his mouth while a trail of clear brother dripped on his chin.
"When was the last good meal you had?"
He didn't respond to the question before diving back into the bowl. "Steve, seriously, when did you last eat?" Loud slurping was the only response Bucky got to his question. Knowing he wasn't going to get any sort of answer at the moment Bucky sighed and took a few bites from his own bowl. A quiet calm settled over the room only broken by the occasional scraping of a fork across the bowl bottom or the slurping of a noodle. Finally Bucky broke the quiet with another attempt at conversation.
"So, do you actually know Dum Dum?" Bright eyes watched the boy across from him waiting.
"Yeah, we've played ball a few times in the park. Well it's usually me and him and this kid named Gabe, and this French kid from a few streets over." Bucky nodded and returned to his own bowl. Once again they settled into a comfortable silence.
"A week."
Steve's words pulled Bucky from his own head causing him to look up. "It's been at least a week since I've eaten something that didn't come out of a dumpster." The answer startled Bucky. It hadn't remotely been close to what he was expecting.
"And where are you staying?"
It was Steve's turn to be startled by the other man's words. Bucky watched the young blonde, waiting for some sort of answer. The quiet was broken by the slurping of noodles. "Stevie?" The corners of Steve's lips tugged up slowly.
"I could say I've been staying with a friend or a cousin but well you won't believe me will you?" It was Bucky's turn to smile. "Am I wrong?"
"No, so what is your answer Stevie?"
"The park a couple blocks away."
Once again Bucky was shocked by the answer. Running his metal fingers through his dark hair the man sighed.
"Well it's a good thing I keep the spare bed made up." Pushing his tired body onto his feet Bucky started toward the stair. He paused at the light switch. Steve still sat on the chair. "You coming or what?" Realization flashed across Steve's face as he scampered after Bucky nearly tripping on the baggy clothes.
"But just tonight, I can take care of myself you know." A soft chuckle echoed through the stairwell as the two men made their way up to the small cozy space.
"Whatever you say Stevie."