Recipe for Romance: A Bucky Barnes Story

5: Chef Barnes?

"I'm telling you, Laurie, he's actually warming up to me."

I press the phone tighter between my ear and shoulder as I fight to fit my leftovers into the microwave safe bowl. I make an obscene noise between my finger and lips as I lick some carbonara off of my thumb.

"Are you sure that you even want him to?" my best friend's voice comes out slightly static. That apartment of hers has terrible reception.

I grin with the success of having finally shoved the noodles into the dish. "What do you mean?" I obliviously ask while typing a random number into the machine that's set to heat my food.

"I mean," Laurie can be heard sighing, "Is this Winter Solider guy really the type of person you should be hanging around?"

I roll my eyes and I'm glad she's not here to see it. She'd be slapping me alongside the head. "He's harmless," I argue defiantly.

Laurie grunts. "Oh come on."

I chuckle, "Okay—that was a poor choice for words on my part. But you know what I mean, girl. He doesn't want to hurt me. Who cares what the papers all said? Tony and Steve have both told me that Bucky's been fine since they woke him up, so there's nothing to worry about." I giggle to myself while fetching a fork. "Besides—I've always had a thing for bad boys."

"NO!" Laurie shouts. "We aren't going there! No! You're talking about a potential acquaintance here, Sade! That is all!"

I mock her by flapping my lips. "Yeah, yeah, I know. It was a joke, Laurie."

"It better fucking be."

The timer rings. I scald myself with the steaming sauce, cursing an "Ouch" beneath my breath.

"What was that? What happened?" Laurie rushes to demand. "Are you okay? What the hell—"

I laugh. "I'm fine! Just burnt the crap out of my finger on some leftovers I brought back from the restaurant tonight." (Yes, I'm still interning there. I need the credits, okay?!)

Laurie heaves a sigh of relief.

"Are you really that worried about me?" I carry the bowl to my couch and flop down—ready to eat. "I'm doing fine: beyond fine, actually. I'm living like Sharpay Evans."

"You're living in a metal box with a dozen of the world's most powerful people-things."

I shrug. "Sounds like the safest place possible to me." I chuckle, "As long as they like me, I mean. And as long as I keep cooking I think I'll stay on their good sides."

"This isn't funny, Sade."

A soft knock comes from my apartment door. I deposit my bowl on the coffee table before launching onto the floor. In my pink slippers I skid to a stop at the door. Laurie's chattering up the line as I open the portal to find the Scarlet Witch standing on the other side. In the hall she wears a pair of sleep pants, loose purple jumper, and shy smile.

"Oh hey Wanda," I greet. I turn my chin and speak to the girl on the phone. "Hold on, Laurie." Then I go back to smiling at my guest. "Can I help ya with something?" I glance at the watch on my wrist before she has the chance to reply. "It's pretty late, but I don't mind cooking up something if you know what it is that you want..."

Wanda's soft laughter interrupts me. "No, no. I'm not here for food or favors." She gestures to a small cosmetic bag that I didn't notice firstly. "I wanted to, umm, see if you'd maybe want to paint our nails...?" She sounds reluctant—afraid, even. This is quite a peculiar thing to imagine, because she's a badass superhero bitch and I'm a fuzzy slipper wearing, 5'3'' package of clumsiness and useless trivia.