Work Text:
Steve wasn't sure what woke him.
Bucky was still sound asleep beside him, his left arm tucked underneath the pillow and his right thrown over his head. Steve uttered a silent thank-you for the fact that Bucky had gotten a good night’s rest. Neither of them slept very well any more. Bucky was often plagued by night terrors and hallucinations, vividly remembering the horrors Hydra had put him through nearly every night. Steve had nightmares as well, about letting Bucky fall, crashing the Valkyrie, fighting the Chitauri, and countless others. However, the night before had been a rare occasion, one where they were both so tired and deeply asleep that the dreams couldn’t reach them, and Steve was infinitely grateful.
Head laid back on his pillow, wondering what had jerked him from slumber, Steve heard scratching at the closed bedroom door. Stars'n'Stripes - name courtesy of Natasha, after the cat's spotty torso and tail with one long white stripe up its length - wanted her breakfast, and made sure Steve knew it. He smiled, the mystery solved, and leaned over Bucky's sleeping form to press a kiss to his cheek before pushing back the covers. Flinching as the cool morning air hit his legs, he quickly grabbed a pair of sweatpants off the floor and tugged them on, then got out of bed and pulled the duvet back over Bucky. Steve started to make his way across the room to the door, but doubled back to the dresser for a long-sleeved t-shirt and some mismatched fuzzy socks.
He shuffled across the room to open the door. The black and white kitten darted inside and began to wind around his ankles, mewling persistantly. Steve bent down and picked her up.
“Mornin’, Stripes,” he said to her in a low voice. “I take it you’d like somethin’ to eat, hmm?”
The cat meowed loudly as an answer, and Steve chuckled softly, glancing at Bucky to make sure he was still asleep.
“Alright, alright,” Steve said, running his hand along her head and scratching behind her ear. She purred and started kneading his striped t-shirt with her claws. “I’m kinda hungry too, so let’s go see what’s in the fridge, shall we?”
Steve padded out of the room, leaving the door open a crack so that Bucky wouldn’t freak out if he woke up and saw the other side of the bed empty. He walked across the living room into the kitchen, and set Stars’n’Stripes down on the floor next to their fridge. Bending down to retrieve the container of dry cat food from a lower cupboard, he absentmindedly pet her as he filled the small bowl next to his feet. The kitten darted out from his hand and started gulping down the food like it was the last meal she would ever get.
“Slow down,” Steve laughed, petting her on the back now. He could feel her muscles moving as she chewed and swallowed rapidly. “You eat almost as much as me and Bucky combined, quit acting like we never feed you.” He stood from his crouching position and yawned, reaching toward the fridge handle.
Rubbing at his eyes as he peered inside the fridge, Steve thought about what he should cook for breakfast. Eggs, maybe. Or pancakes. Either of those would have been great choices, if it weren't for the fact that the fridge was all but empty.
Steve leaned his head against the refrigerator door, closing his eyes for several seconds. The cold air felt refreshing against his face, even if it did smell like bologna. It wasn’t a problem if he held his breath. He should probably do something about that smell, though. Maybe later this afternoon he could get Bucky to help him deep-clean the fridge.
The thoughts running through Steve’s mind abruptly switched topics when he heard the bedroom door open and shut, and footsteps on the other side of the room, by the television.
“Steve?” Bucky called. Steve turned around. Bucky was walking across the living room area, his feet and chest bare, wearing a pair of Steve’s sweatpants.
“Morning, Buck,” he smiled as way of an answer. Crossing the room, he pulled Bucky into his arms for a hug, pressing a small kiss to his neck.
“Mornin’,” Bucky replied, wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him close.
“M’sorry f’I woke you up. I was tryin’ to be quiet,” Steve apologized, his words muffled by Bucky’s skin.
“No, s’ok, Steve. It was more the cat’s fault than yours anyway. She acts like she never gets fed,” Bucky replied. His voice was heavy with sleep. Pulling back from Steve’s embrace, laughing a bit at his “That’s what I said!” Bucky moved his mouth up to meet Steve’s for a kiss. It was long, slow, and sweet, despite the fact that they both had morning breath. Bucky pulled on Steve’s lower lip with his teeth a little bit as he pulled away. Steve let out a small sound and chased Bucky’s mouth with his own.
They fought for dominance for a few minutes, tongues darting out and exploring mouths, teeth nipping at lips, reluctantly pulling away for half seconds to breathe. Somehow, they ended up against the wall, Bucky sandwiched between it and Steve, with the both of them still trading lazy morning kisses. That is, still kissing until a small, furry creature started to weave her way between their legs, mewing a complaint at them.
Bucky laughed into Steve’s mouth, and broke away to pick the kitten up and cradle her in his arms.
“You feeling left out, Stripesy?” he teased. He pecked the top of her head with his lips, and she looked up at him with the most indignant expression Steve had ever seen on a cat. They both burst out laughing at her face. Sighing out a smile, Bucky shook his head and ruffled the cat’s fur. One arm was holding her, and he streched out the other to wrap around Steve, who placed his head on Bucky’s shoulder. Not a bad way to start the morning, he thought.
“Hey, Bucky,” Steve said after a moment of contented silence.
“Hmm?” he replied.
“There’s nothing to eat.”
Bucky raised an eyebrow, and looked up at Steve. “Yes, there is.”
“Nuh-uh. The only thing in the fridge is milk and leftovers. And maybe some bologna.”
“There’s cereal.”
“I don’t want cereal. You ate all the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms again.”
“You said leftovers? What about pizza from last night?”
At that, Steve lifed his head and made a face at Bucky.
“Not a breakfast food,” he stated.
“Clint thinks so,” Bucky countered.
“Clint would eat pizza morning, noon, and night if Natasha let him. I wouldn’t take his advice when it comes to food if you paid me.”
“Well, I’m going to have cereal. If you think you could possibly lower yourself to my standards, you’re welcome to join me,” Bucky teased, pressing another light kiss to the top of Steve’s head before pushing off the wall. He dropped Stars’n’Stripes gently to the floor (where, of course, she landed on her feet) and made his way over to the kitchen area. Steve followed, still complaining about food.
“I wanted to cook, though, like I wanted to make eggs, and pancakes, and sausage, and just this giant breakfast that we’d have to get help to finish. I had my heart set on this, Bucky!” he protested, leaning against the edge of the counter.
Bucky shook his head, laughing. He reached up to pull the Lucky Charms out of the cupboard.
“If you’re that determined, then go raid the kitchen downstairs. You know Tony has it stocked daily; everything will be there.”
“That’s true,” Steve replied. “Okay. Wanna come with me?”
Bucky shook his head as he brought the carton of milk out of the fridge. “You want a giant breakfast, you go get it yourself. I’m quite content to stay up here with my cereal and coffee, thank you very much.”
“We’re out of coffee,” came Steve’s response. Bucky looked up at him.
“We are? I thought I just bought some last week,” he asked.
“You did. And then you drank it all,” Steve replied.
“That’s unfourtunate,” Bucky said as he poured the milk over his cereal.
“Come help me get my ‘giant breakfast’ – which I know you’ll end up eating too, you love my cooking – and I’ll make you some. You know there’s about fifteen different blends down there, unlike your own depleted stash.” Steve pushed off the counter and moved forward to wrap his arms around Bucky’s waist from behind. “Please?”
Bucky tipped his head back to rest on Steve’s shoulder. “Fine,” he replied, turning to press a few small kisses to Steve’s neck. “But just for the coffee; you can keep your eggs and pancakes and shit. You go ahead, though; I want to finish eating this first. And I should probably put a shirt on too.”
“But these abs are practically a gift to the human race; why would you want to do a horrible thing like cover them up?” Steve asked, pretending to be scandalized as he dragged his fingertips over Bucky’s stomach. Bucky shivered.
“You keep that up, we won’t make it downstairs,” he warned. Steve chuckled.
“Much as I don’t think that’s a bad thing, I’m actually pretty hungry.” Steve pulled away from Bucky. “Meet me in the common area?”
“”Kay,” Bucky answered. He turned around and pecked Steve quickly on the lips. “Don’t forget about the coffee.”
“’Kay,” Steve mimicked. He kissed Bucky back, then turned and headed for the door, giving Stars’n’Stripes a quick scratch on the head as he went. Bucky wolf-whistled as Steve turned the doorknob.
“What a view!” he called, grinning.
“I’d say the same from where I’m standing,” Steve replied. “I mean what I said about those abs!” Bucky laughed as Steve shut the door with a smile.
*^*^*^*
The elevator door opened and Steve stepped out into the common area. He enjoyed spending time in here. It was a comfortable, open space, made to look even more expansive than it was by the floor to ceiling window overlooking New York. There was a large television a few feet in front of the window, surrounded by couches and armchairs. On the right side of the room was the kitchen area. There was a long countertop with a sink and an oven built into it, and a refrigerator at the end farthest from the window. Cabinets were fastened above and below the countertop, containing any miscellaneous cooking ingridient a person could wish for. A long breakfast bar, with four chairs on one side and one on each end, was positioned in front of the cooking area, with enough room to comfortably walk between the two.
Natasha was sitting at the bar, eating oatmeal and reading a book. She was the only other person in the room, and looked up when she heard the elevator doors open. Her eyes widened upon seeing Steve.
“Even when you sleep, you’re still the living embodiment of America,” she grinned as he walked over to the cabinets. He glanced at her.
“Good morning to you, too, Natasha,” he replied. “I slept well, thanks for asking. How about you?” Steve opened up a cabinet as he spoke and pulled out two pans. He set one on the stove, then went to the fridge and brought out a dozen eggs, a carton of milk, and bacon (there was no sausage, but in his opinion bacon was almost as good).
Natasha threw her spoon at him. Steve caught it as he walked back to the stove and tossed it in the sink.
“I slept fine,” Natasha told him. “Seriously, though, did you actually sleep in those?”
“No, I just threw them on when I got out of bed. Why? “ Steve asked, cracking eggs into a bowl.
“Because it looks like you’re casually cosplaying the American flag,” Natasha answered.
“Like I’m what?” Steve poured a splash of milk into the bowl with his eggs and began whisking it with a fork.
“Like you dressed up to look like the flag! Only really casually. You know what cosplaying is, right?”
“Sorta-kinda.” Steve replied. “Clint tried to explain it but I didn’t really get what he was saying. It’s like Halloween, right? Except nerdier and without candy?”
Natasha pursed her lips. “Clint. Never listen to Clint. Basically, yes, like Halloween with no candy, except absolutely nothing like that at all. The only thing similar is dressing up in costumes, but they’re usually of fictional characters. You can cosplay as pretty much anything, though, like the American flag standing in front of me. A casual cosplay is when you only dress like the person, not as them. So, for example… you know Supernatural? The Tv show about the brothers that hunt monsters?”
“I’ve seen a few episodes, yes,” Steve answered her, amused by her enthusiasm. He set aside his eggs and ripped open the package of bacon. Laying each piece flat across the bottom of a pan, he turned on a burner and placed the pan on top of the heat.
“And you know how they pretty much only wear flannels and jeans?” Natasha continued.
“Not really. I’ll take your word for it though.”
“Well, they do. So a lot of people casually cosplay as them by wearing those things, maybe adding some themed jewelry sometimes. It’s not an exact replica of the character, so you can go out in public without getting weird looks, but it’s enough for a fellow fan to spot.”
“So how am I casually cosplaying the flag?” asked Steve as he turned to grab a plate to put the bacon on.
“Look at your clothes!”
Steve looked down. Unbeknownst to him in his sleep-driven state, he had put on a red and white striped t-shirt, and dark blue sweatpants with big white stars. He laughed and looked up at Natasha.
“Would you believe me if I said that this was completely accidental?”
“Not a chance.”
As they were laughing, the elevator opened again and Bucky stepped out, still wearing Steve’s sweatpants, but now with a t-shirt.
“Bucky!” Natasha called to him. “Doesn’t Steve look like he’s cosplaying the flag?”
Bucky looked Steve up and down as he walked over. He grabbed a piece of hot bacon in his left hand, then looked to Natasha.
“My god, he does. How didn’t I see that earlier?” he wondered. He looked back to Steve. “Did you do that on purpose?”
Steve dropped the last of the bacon onto the plate. “No. I just grabbed some clothes off the floor and pulled them on. I was more concerned with keeping the cat quiet than planning a patriotic cosplay.” He exchanged the pan filled with bacon grease for the clean one on the counter, and poured the egg mixture into it. “And I know why you didn’t notice before,” he spoke softly into Bucky’s ear.
Bucky looked at him with a raised eyebrow and placed his lips near Steve’s ear. “If you’re implying that my observation skills were in some way comprimised earlier, may I remind you that you were the one waxing poetic about my abs?”
Steve laughed at that, saying out loud, “I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘waxing poetic’, Bucky.”
Natasha looked up from where she had resumed reading her book, curious. “What did you ‘not exactly’ wax poetic about, Steve? Or do I not want to know?” she smirked. Bucky laughed as Steve started to push the eggs around with a spatula, a smile on his face.
“He said my abs were ‘a gift to the human race’,” Bucky grinned, turning to face Natasha.
“And I am one very lucky member of humankind,” Steve chimed in, hooking an arm around Bucky’s waist and pressing a kiss to his hair.
“You two are disgustingly domestic,” Natasha muttered, albeit with a smile. She stood and walked around the breakfast bar to the sink, where she rinsed her bowl and stuck it in the dishwasher.
“Hey, Nat,” Steve called after her as she turned to go. “Where is everyone? It’s really quiet this morning.”
She turned back to him. “Tony’s probably in his lab, and I’m willing to bet Bruce is with him if he is. Trying to get him to eat something, no doubt. Thor went back to Asgard last week and Sam was leaving to go on a run when I got down here. I was surprised you weren’t with him, Steve; you two usually do that together.” Natasha said.
Bucky grinned a wicked grin. “Usually, meaning when the night before isn’t spent –“ Steve clamped his hand over Bucky’s mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence.
“Yes, I usually do,” he answered quickly. Bucky licked the palm of Steve’s hand to get him to remove it. Steve let out a shout of surprise, rapidly moving to wipe his hand on his pants. Bucky grinned triumphantly.
Natasha just shot them a knowing look, and continued speaking. “Clint was still sleeping when I left, but he’ll be down soon for coffee. I swear, that man has problems. It’s like he goes into withdrawl during missions, and as soon as he gets back people just better clear a path to the kitchen and not talk to him for an hour.” She shook her head as she walked into the elevator.
“Speaking of…” Bucky said, facing Steve as the elevator doors shut, “I thought you said there would be a certain hot beverage down here waiting for me?”
“Did I?’ Steve asked, taking the eggs off of the stove and putting them on a trivet on the bar.
Bucky trailed after him. “Yes, you did. In fact, the only reason I’m down here at all is because I was promised a mug of coffee.”
Steve turned and looked at him apologetically. “I was going to put some on, and then Natasha thought it was important for her to go and explain cosplay to me. I got distracted. I’ll make a pot now, though, if you want.”
Bucky’s answer was interrupted by the elevator opening, letting out a dishelveled Clint. He stumbled over to the breakfast bar and sat down, knuckling his eyes as he looked up at them.
“Hey guys,” he said blearily, reaching out for a piece of bacon. “Eggs, bacon…did anyone make coffee? ‘Cause if they did and I don’t have to be responsible for my own caffine this morning I would seriously love them for eternity.”
“Well then, you’re doomed to a life of solitude,” Bucky replied, looking to Steve as he spoke. “Someone, even though he promised he would, was more concerned with filling his own super stomach than taking two minutes to fill the French press.”
“Sounds like you’re in for it, Cap,” Clint grinned, snagging another piece of bacon. “Hey, Barnes, if you think you can go another twenty minutes without caffine, I think I’m going to run to that place a few blocks over. You wanna tag along?”
“The one with the homemade donuts and muffins and crap? Hell yes. Just lemme put some jeans on or something. And you,” Bucky said, turning to Steve. He put his hands on his shoulders to balance himself as he whispered in Steve’s ear.
Steve’s cheeks were tinged pink as he pulled away. “Oh, there will be,” he replied. His hands drifted down to Bucky’s ass to pull him in for a kiss. “There absolutely will be. You can bet your abs on that.”
Clint looked back and forth between the two of them. “Did I miss something? Did people just decide to start gambling body parts while I was asleep, or is this an inside joke?”
Bucky laughed as he freed himself from Steve’s grasp. “I’ll fill you in later. Right now, I want a donut.” Clint jumped down from his chair, and joined Bucky as he crossed the room to the elevator.
As Steve turned back to the stove, he caught Clint asking Bucky, “So did he dress like the flag on purpose, or…?” The sound of Bucky’s laughter and murmured response was the last thing Steve heard before the elevator doors shut. He grinned to himself, and continued cooking.