Things Bucky Barnes Doesn't Do Well

Modern Kitchens

"As you can see, it has all the bells and whistles," Tony is saying proudly.

Bucky looks over at the refrigerator and isn't sure what kinds of additions they could have made to it. If it keeps food from spoiling, that's good enough for him. Tony is giving him a tour of the Tower while Steve is gone, and it's the first time he's left his floor since he arrived here. It's a big place, and it's a struggle to consider that all of it belongs to one person. Even if a half dozen or so of them live there. He could easily go days without seeing anyone, he thinks.

"You can use this screen here, and it takes inventory of what we have and offers recipes for what you can make from it," Tony explains, pressing a few buttons to demonstrate.

Nodding slowly, Bucky is less than impressed. Noticing this, Tony cocks his head at him.

"Not what you were expecting?"

"You have flying cars, but only a few of them. You have tiny computers that everyone carries around but you don't put them to any useful purpose. Your kitchen appliances can tell you all kinds of information, but won't make your food for you. I'm just a little disappointed in how the future is turning out to be," Bucky tells him with a shrug.

Unsurprisingly, Tony bristles a little at the analysis. "Hey, is that what you want? A machine that will make you dinner?"

"It would be a nice start."

Snorting, Tony surveys the room thoughtfully. "What do you want for dinner?"

Bucky considers the possibilities. "Steak. Mashed potatoes. Biscuits."

"That's a lot of carbs."

"What?"

"Nevermind. Let's see what we can do." Tony waves him further into the kitchen and points at appliances. "Breadmaker."

"Not for biscuits."

"Grill."

Bucky frowns at the small red device and shrugs. It doesn't look like any grill he's ever seen, but what does he know? "Sure."

"I suppose you want home-made mashed potatoes," Tony says, sounding disappointed.

"What other kind is there?" Bucky replies. Tony takes it as a rhetorical question and just nods, but Bucky hasn't heard of any other kind. They're at home, aren't they? Won't anything they make be home-made?

"Well, let's see how well-stocked we are." Tony turns to the refrigerator and reads its inventory, then turns to the pantry.

"You don't have, like, a food replicator? Like in that new show Star Trek?" Bucky asks.

Tony snorts back a laugh. "I'm afraid the innovative minds from that show are a few years ahead of us yet," he says sardonically. "You like scifi? Science fiction," he clarifies when Bucky looks confused.

"Oh, that. Yeah, I guess so. Kinda seems like less fiction than it used to," he adds thoughtfully.

Smiling, Tony shakes his head. "True. Okay, you want to be on biscuit or steak duty?"

"What about the potatoes?"

"This little red box claims to be able to make decent mashed potatoes by itself; all we have to do is toss them in there," Tony explains a little proudly.

Bucky eyes the machine dubiously. "Do we need to peel them first?"

"Nope," Tony replies, tossing a few potatoes in it and shutting the lid.

Steak and biscuits will make a fine meal anyway, Bucky resolves, and sets about making the biscuits. He thinks Tony should be able to handle searing a piece of meat, and hasn't heard anything good about his culinary exploits. Didn't Pepper tell him a story about some burned and undercooked scrambled eggs? He isn't sure; the last couple weeks of being holed up in Steve's floor are a little fuzzy about what really happened.

"How do you want your steak?" Tony asks, flipping over the sirloins.

"Medium rare," he replies, putting the biscuits in the oven. He goes over to look at the mashed potato box and clears his throat. "Should it be doing that?"

Closing the grill again, Tony walks over to check. "I doubt it. I haven't ever used it, but... Probably not supposed to move like that."

Without any further warning, the machine starts vibrating more widely, the top flying open, and potato bits flinging everywhere. Bucky drops automatically and finds cover under the nearby table. He looks around for Tony and finds him similarly hidden, an expression of annoyance on his face.

Footsteps can be heard approaching, despite the noise, and Bucky sees a man about Tony's age, wearing glasses and a purple shirt. Though there are gray streaks in his hair, Bucky feels something intimidating about him. The man walks over and calmly presses a button on the machine. It settles down and he closes the lid, a smile crossing his lips when he sees Tony. Then he opens the refrigerator and pulls out an apple. Taking a bite of it casually, he leaves the room as nonchalantly as he entered it.

"Who was that?" Bucky breathes, getting to his feet.

"Bruce Banner. Doctor of Nuclear Physics and Mashed Potato Extraordinaire, apparently," Tony grumbles, dusting himself off.

Licking his lips, Bucky looks after the doctor, some knowledge sliding into place as he realizes who he is. "Should we... Should we invite him to dinner?" he asks.

Tony laughs at that. "I'm sure he'll stop by if he's hungry." Then he clears his throat and looks at Bucky intently. "We don't need to tell this story to anyone, do we?"

"Um, no," Bucky answers uncertainly.

"Good. Can't have people upstaging me with technical skills in my own home," he explains.

"Of course," Bucky agrees with a smile, wondering if everyone in the Tower has their own niche. And what his would be.

The rest of the meal gets made without a fuss, and they are both quite pleased (and surprised) to find that the mashed potatoes that are not on the walls seem pretty good. Steve gets back just after Bucky pulls the biscuits out of the oven, and he thinks his friend always had that kind of timing when he was little, too.

"How was your day?" Steve asks gently, softly enough that Tony likely can't hear. Or can at least choose to ignore their conversation.

He glances over at their host, who gives him a look, and he smiles at Steve. "Good. Tony gave me a tour and we made dinner," he says.

Steve turns his gaze toward Tony as well, raising an eyebrow, but doesn't comment right away. "Sounds like fun. I'm starving," he adds.

"I'm not sure we have enough to feed a super soldier," Tony replies with a frown.

"Should we go get some shawarma instead?" Steve suggests, and Tony smiles at some shared reference.

"Hey, I'm just worried about your friend, here." He turns to face Bucky and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe if you ate more comfort food, you wouldn't have to go around shooting people," he says seriously.

Bucky grins. "Sounds like a plan to me."

o