Amnesia

C9: Pancakes

I woke up to a pair of blue eyes looking at me from across the room.

As I lifted my head up off the pillow, I heard Steve mumble an 'oh shit' as he fumbled walking away.

"Steve?"

"Hmmm. What?" He answered in quick response.

"Were you watching me sleep?" I questioned slowly, a small smile creeping up my face as I did.

"No." He coughed.

"Mmm yes." I corrected.

"I was not." He responded in his typical serious Steve voice.

"Yeah okay then what were you doing? Watching the air particles around my face?"

"Yes exactly."

"You dumbass." I mumbled quietly.

He returned to the stove in the kitchen, messing around with a frying pan.

I drug myself in there and sat down at the counter, watching him from behind. His body had the weirdest ratio... like a dorito. I mean not that it looked bad... it looked great...

Wait what?

No, Bucky.

"So what are you making?"

"Well..." he said turning to look at me, "...pancakes."

"No way, pancakes? Where'd you miraculously learn how to cook? I remember you burning them to a crisp last time we made them."

"Oh yeah? And when was that?" He smirked pulling out two plates.

"My birthday... maybe 18th, 19th?"

"Ah was that the time we went to the fair afterwards?"

"Yeah. Yeah that one." I said smiling faintly at the reminisce of an eventful day.

"That was the same day we met those girls and went to the dance thing, right?" He asked sliding the pancake onto my plate.

"Yeah, Mary and..."

"Linda." He stated hastily finishing my sentence.

"Well someone's a little feisty." I teased.

"I don't like her." The words were so pronunciated I thought he was stabbing her as they came out.

"Awe were you jealous?" I smirked.

"No. I just disliked her."

"Only because she was dancing with me." I whispered.

He didn't answer, which kinda gave me the answer.

He turned on the radio next to the stove and started humming along to some song I didn't know.

Turning around to place a plate in front of me, he started singing along as the song was nearing the end.

I took a fork and started cutting up my breakfast, when the next song came on in more of a mellow tone.

I recognized it, it was sad, I'd heard it before when Steve was in the kitchen.

"What is this?" I mumbled.

"Lay Me Down by Sam Smith."

He started pouring batter into the pan again, making his own breakfast. Funny to think the roles used to be reversed.

I turned back around from the radio, looking at Steve with an overwhelming rush of sadness and nostalgia.

I remembered the first time I taught him to cook... or more like taught him how to not burn down the house.

I smiled, we were making pancakes.

"Woah, woah, Stevie what are you doing?"

"Well I was making you pancakes...but..."

"You're gonna burn it Steve."

"Well... I've only watched you cook once."

And now I'm watching him... what a different world.

Something in my head was taunting me to go help him, but is that something Bucky would do?

I guess he would...

Or maybe not anymore...

Gahhh who cares Bucky, be your own person now!

I walked over to a drawer and pulled out a black spatula, flipping it in my hands as I sneaked up behind Steve.

I remembered doing this before, it was like going through the motions again.

From behind him, I slid my arm under his, leaning my face on his shoulder to see more clearly.

"Bucky what on gods green earth are you doing?" He laughed.

"You're gonna burn it." I smiled, whispering into his shoulder.

Last time I did this he was shorter.

I moved the spatula under his arm and flipped the pancake over, landing half of it out of the pan.

"Oops." I laughed while Steve shifted the pan until it fell back in.

There was a small moment of silence, where I couldn't help but lean my head against his back. I burrowed my face into his blue shirt with a smile. He smelt like the fall leaves and a hint of coffee. He smelt like Brooklyn...

No... I thought, He smells like home.

Then looking up, I wrapped my hand over his on the handle of the pan and lifted it off the stove. Both of our hands moved at the same time, tilting the pan down so the pancake could fall onto his plate below it.

"See?"

"I had that." He smirked.

I let go of his hand... I mean the pan.

"...I know, but I wanted to teach you again." I said letting my smile fall back into reminiscing.

"I don't mind." He gently smiled.

I walked back over to my seat at the counter and sat down in front of my half finished breakfast.

What just happened?