Day 21 – cinnamon
Bucky returned to his offsite apartment after his latest mission with Steve to take out another HYDRA base. When he opened the door, Bucky's nose was assailed with the aroma of cinnamon. "Clint?" With no response, he hurried into the suite, scanning the area for intruders. After finding nothing out of the ordinary in the living room, he moved to the bedroom and then to the kitchen. When Bucky saw Clint, he tossed down his gun and hurried over. Clint was sitting on the floor surrounded by little slivers of wood, a dumbfounded look on his face and blood seeping from several fingers. "What happened?"
Clint swallowed as he tried to figure out how to explain the situation. "Thought I'd make you some cinnamon toothpicks. I overheard you and Steve talking about how much you two liked them as kids, so I wanted to do something nice for you. I went to take them out of the oil, but they slipped out of my hands. Tried pickin' 'em up, but the damn things are too sharp."
"Aw, doll." Bucky knelt, picked up one of Clint's hands, and gently held it. "That was so sweet of you. Did any glass break?"
Clint shook his head. "Still in the jar on the cabinet."
Bucky smirked. "Good. Let's get your hands cleaned up and make sure you don't have any splinters, and then we'll put the oil to use."
"Making more toothpicks?"
"Nope," Bucky's smirk grew, "cinnamon oil can also double as a massage oil."
I took creative liberty with this one. Cinnamon toothpicks were not invented until 1949, but in my multiverse, they were invented before that.