(Requested by: @LionessSister )
Your eyes wouldn't shut. Your brain was whirring and the medicine wasn't working. You knew that it was finally your time. Insomnia ran in your family. You can remember all the times you would wake up in the middle of the night to hear your mom typing away at the computer or tidying up the house. She would always look down on you, almost sorrowfully, and gently usher you back to bed.
Now, you were the one who was restless. You mentally cursed yourself. You would have to be up early tomorrow to begin breakfast for the Avengers. Yep, you were their personal chef. Tony hired you as a part from your vast recommendations and history of good food. Plus, you cooked with no questions asked.
You glanced at your alarm clock. 11:11 PM gleamed dimly back at you.
I wish I had something to help me get through this insomnia, you thought.
After that, you spent the rest of your night staring at the ceiling fan.
•••••
It was slowly getting better. Sleep medicine was helping add a bit of sleep to the end of your night, but you were wide awake at the beginning. One night, you had decided to start a special type of breakfast pancakes, so you got up and started cooking.
Soon, you heard muffled footsteps. You turned to see the Winter Sol- er, James, yawning as he gazed around the kitchen. He swept a hand through his shaggy hair, smoothing it out. "Why the heck are you up so early?" He asked with another yawn.
You shrugged, turning to face the pan again. "Can't sleep. You?" He shrugged also. "Me neither. Whatcha makin'?" You smiled at the change to a comfortable subject. "Buttermilk pancakes. I put a mix of different types of nuts and some chocolate in 'em. Then, I made some strawberry slash blueberry ones over here. Try a piece." You tore off a small bit of the berry ones and handed it to him. He hesitated before he took it. As he chewed, a slow smile grew across his face. "This is amazing. How in the world- you know what, I don't care. Can I have another-" You slapped his hand as he reached for another piece.
"Not until breakfast. The others will want some." Even though your voice was stern, you broke out into a smile. He smiled as well, and sat at the kitchen table to wait until morning for another delicious pancake.
•••••
James continually got up to either help, taste test, or watch you make the food. He was always giving overly-generous reviews on every item of food, and watched with a bright smile. He was seeming less and less like cold Winter, and more and more like the warm Bucky that Steve remembered.
One night, you needed to make a cake since it was his birthday the next day. You had made three layers, one confetti flavored, the next vanilla, and the last white chocolate, for his favorite flavors.
Right as you were starting on the blue and white frosting, you heard the oh-so familiar footsteps. "No looking!" You whisper-shouted. "Oh, is this culinary masterpiece for me this time?" You could tell he was smirking as he said it. "James, it's a surprise," you reprimanded.
He already snuck around and you saw his eyes widen. "Oh my- is this for me?" He ran up and crushed you in a hug. "Thank you, (Y/N). Thank you so much. I haven't had cake, let alone for my birthday, for seventy years. It looks incredible."
You laughed as you playfully smacked him. "Well, it was supposed to be a surprise." He smiled as he hugged you tighter. "I'll act surprised. Besides," he tried to subtly swipe his finger in the frosting. "You can't serve it without your official Taste-Tester." You scoffed and smacked him again. "Stop! I need all the frosting I can get!" He shrugged before he dabbed it on your nose.
You gasped as he smirked. "James!" He shrugged before he licked the rest of the frosting off his finger. "And how many times do I have to ask you to call me Bucky?" Before you could think, you dipped your fingers into the frosting and splattered it on his face. He opened his eyes and stared at you in shock. Then, he grinned.
"Okay, I see how it is." He grabbed some frosting from the large bowl and rubbed it all through your hair. "Oh my gosh, you didn't-" You attacked him with more frosting, laughing rambunctiously. He came at you and plastered it on your cheek, laughing as well.
It went on for a while, splats and kthunks of frosting across the kitchen and your bodies. Before you knew it, Bucky had backed you against the wall, a glob of frosting ready.
He stared into your eyes with something you couldn't place. He was looking at you like a piece of cake that he wanted to taste, to savor, that was just out of his reach. "Whatcha starin' at?" You whispered.
"You have- uh, some frosting-" He put his mouth to the spot he pointed at. "And there," he pecked you again. "Right there," he kissed your forehead. "And lastly-" he kissed you on the lips.
It was sweet and simple, but it filled you with joy and electrified your nerves. Your chest expanded and you brought your frosting-covered fingers up to his hair. He immediately responded by pulling you closer to him.
When you both finally broke for air, you both heard the kitchen clock chime, alerting you that it was midnight.
"Happy Birthday." You whispered as you smiled up to him. He turned and beamed back down at you. "Best. Birthday. Ever."
_____________________
A/N: Hello, Sweeties! I hope you liked this. You know the drill, and I'll see ya later.
Farewell, my beauties!
~Sports_books_1816
