Fragile - A Bucky Barnes Story

Chef

Bucky hadn't broken his promise, he came to check on me at dinner time and had found that I had gotten up and was working on my second cup of coffee since I had brewed a whole pot. Caffeine helped the migraines and my body practically ran off coffee on a day to day basis anyways.

He was nice enough to bring me a ham sandwich, which was surprising for sure.

"You didn't have to make me food," I smiled down at the styrofoam fold box. When I glanced back up at him, his cheeks had reddened just the tiniest bit. "Thank you."

"I wasn't sure if you'd be able to go eat with the rest of them," he paused, shifting nervously on his feet.

"Rest of them? You don't eat with them?" I asked softly, walking over to the kitchen island to put my plate down and grab a soda from the stocked refrigerator. I had skipped dinner time the day before in the dining room due to a meeting with Steve where food had been brought up to us in the conference room.

"No," he answered softly, his gaze shifting away from me and at the door as a subconscious nervous gesture. "They- they don't trust me."

"They will," I promise him, waving him over with my right hand. "Do you have food? Wanna share my sandwich?"

"No, please, you eat it," he refused with a shake of his head, his brown hair tussling around his face.

"Come on, I don't want to eat alone," I give him a reason to stay, sensing that he wants to take care of people, an extension of guilt that he carries around.

"Did they stock your fridge with hot pockets?" he wondered shyly, I raised an eyebrow as an answer before I turned around and opened the freezer door, peering into it as I hadn't had the chance to check out what all came equipped with the kitchen and indeed there was a pile of hot pockets.

"Someone likes hot pockets around here, I'm guessing?" I pulled one of the packages out and handed it out to him, which he gratefully smiled at. It was a very handsome, quick smile that breezed off his face after a fleeting moment.

"I'd never had them before coming here," Bucky explained after a few moments, after he had unwrapped the plastic around the microwave treat and fixed the sleeve over it to nuke. "Now I can't stop eating them, especially the pepperoni kind."

"Yeah I'm pretty fond of the pepperoni, but the ham and cheese is good too," I answer as I open up the styrofoam to go box and pick up my sandwich and take a bite. "Ohh, you tricked me. I thought it was just a regular plain ham sandwich."

"Its ham, dijon mustard, arugula, provolone cheese, herb mayo and red onion on sourdough," his cheeks began to brighten the prettiest pink shade once again, embarrassment rushing against his frail emotions.

"That's like, super gourmet," I praise as I take another bite and moan at the taste. "This is amazing, I didn't read in your file that you were a chef at any point."

"I'm not," he answered as the microwave beeped and he lifted the hot pocket out with his metal hand, steaming and fogging up the plates in his armor. "Its- therapeutic for me, I guess. When I got here- I couldn't sleep, and I'd be hungry. I started looking at recipe books and started messing around in the kitchen when everyone was asleep."

"Have they tried your cooking because," I chew another bite and swallow as my other hand points a finger at the sandwich. "This is phenomenal."

"Please," he blushed again, turning around to walk to the other side of the island and take a seat on one of the barstools. "Its- its a sandwich. Its not that good."

"Its the best sandwich I've ever had, take the compliment," I gave him a teasing look, watching as he took a bite of his hot pocket that was still steaming. "I feel really bad that you're just eating that."

"I like this," he defends. "It's filling but also fun."

I laugh as I reach out for my drink, I take a sip and shake my head back and forth softly. "You are quite funny, Bucky. I hate that the others don't see it."

"They'd have to be around me for longer than two minutes," he joked, but I could see the pain behind his eyes.