Summary:Natasha is one of the top spies in the world, was only a matter of time before she discovered Bucky and Steve share an apartment now. She drops by for an unannounced visit. Lucky her, it's Thai Food Night! Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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With nothing at all planned or announced, zero forewarning, there's a sudden knock on the door of Apt 602 on 58 Water Street. Should anyone bother to check the peephole, before saying anything, they'll find Natasha dressed casually: black leather jacket, over red tank top, black leggings and flats.
She waves her hand at the peephole just on the off chance someone would spy on her before opening the door. Or asking 'who is it' at the least.
*
There's Buck at home….and with Steve, too. But it's the Soldier who answers the door. Buck's dressed in black t-shirt, worn jeans, nothing covering the metal arm. He smiles when he lets the Widow in. "Hey, Natasha," he greets her. "We were gonna be lazy and order in for dinner, so you're just in time. Thai, pizza, Indian, or Italian?"
*
Steve appears from midway down the left-hand wall from what must be a pocket-office tucked off before the wall turns to the open air of the living room. He's in a button-down shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, white t-shirt beneath, and equally old jeans…and slip-on indoor slippers.
"Nat." The surprised iteration of her name is about all he can manage at the sight of the red-headed woman meandering into their apartment. On his right hand, a golden silicone ring imprinted with a black eternity weave, Gaelic by design.
*
"Good to see you, glad I wasn't late," Natasha plays off Buck, keeping the nonchalant response to her sudden visit, as if Bucky was always counting on it. "Thai or Pizza sounds good," she keeps the simplest option as a viable alternative for the sake of simplicity.
"Steve, hope my visit is not inconvenient, seems I'm just in time for dinner." She walks herself inside so Bucky can close the door, quipping, "nice to see you so comfortable," as she passes him by and nods at Steve, "what's with the ring? Any story behind it?"
*
"Thai it is, then," Buck says. Either Steve's already weighed in, or his opinion is not being sought. AT the question of the ring, he laughs an idiotic little laugh, and lifts his own right hand. There's a matching band there. "We're engaged," he tells her.
So, apparently these two aren't merely room-mates in the Bert and Ernie sense.
*
"Oh — oh, no, Nat, you're fine." Steve seems to realize the impression he's giving and completely emerges from the little side office with a small grin now. "And…Thai's fine," he adds belatedly, also coming to the conclusion that his opinion matters little — which is fine, because Thai food's amazing and Bucky knows the best place to boot.
Seeing the Soldier lift his hand, the Captain then mirrors it, pinking at his ears in quiet pride. "I decided it'd been long enough. Can't fool the world any longer."
*
"So that's why you moved in together, congratulations, I do hope I'm invited to the wedding…?" Nat doesn't miss a cue as Bucky gives her what may otherwise be shocking to others, "happy you decided to finally follow your heart. You two been following other people's orders long enough," she grins. "Anything to drink with such an happy announcement?"
As an after thought, she quips at Bucky, "do make sure there's Curry Puffs, no matter what else you order. Not saying I crave them, just that I'll have a whole order to myself."
*
"We're just gonna be married at City Hall, now that I got the Army paperwork cleared up," Buck says. He's gone bright pink, too. "But you are definitely invited to the party we'll be throwing after. The Waynes stepped up to host the reception, and they're looking for an excuse to go big. Here, lemme get the vodka," Because Russians and pseudo-Russians can only properly toast in vodka. He goes to find it - he has it chilled already, it seems.
Over his shoulder, he says, "Whole order of Curry puffs it is."
*
With a toss of his head, the Captain invites Natasha further into the abode. There's an island counter in the kitchen to the right of the end of the entryway where he stops at, placing his palms down on it as he idly looks for his cell phone. Gotta phone in the food after all.
"We'll do a big order of curry puffs. 'nd yeah, thought I heard the Wayne family spoke up about a reception. Gotta check with Mister Wayne one more time, of course, but the offer seemed genuine." Seeing his cell tucked up against a standing glass jar of pencils, he grabs it and glances up at Bucky. "What's the name of the place again?" The blond has, in fact, become well acquainted with the Google app, and will look up the place.
*
"City Hall? No fancy ceremony or anything?" Nat crosses her arms, giving Bucky a 'look'. "Bucky, you can hold the ceremony in a post office somewhere, I hope you're planning on me being there. I mean, I rather you invite me." The good thing about Bucky getting the vodka? He's honorary Russian enough, that it's going to be a good one. "Za vashe zdorov'ye," she says in advance of the toast itself, all the better to get to the drinking faster.
"It's a good thing Wayne is taking care of it, he's a good guy, I got a chance to know him. His daughter, Helena is quite something too," Natasha offers with a warm smile, looking from Bucky to Steve and back, "you know, I never thought you'd make it official. Really am happy for you."
*
"Thai One On," Buck says, as he brings out the little shot glasses, pours out a generous measure for Nat, then one for himself. Steve gets a prompting look - does the meatball want a drink, too?
He smirks at Nat over the rim of the shot. "No one but us, so no one feels left out. Gonna be stealthy, so no one sees us coming. No telling anyone until it's done," he admonishes the Widow, lifting a shining finger to his lips. "But for the reception, you can be my best woman." He grins over at Steve. "I suggested it to him, but he did the formal proposal."
*
"Thai..One…On…" the Captain repeats to himself, typing it into the phone. He frowns down at the screen as he scrolls and then with a quiet 'ah-ha' of triumph, he pulls up the number. "Yeah, gotta keep it on the D-L, as people say these days," he comments to Natasha as he glances up at her. "Not looking to cause a ruckus, not until the reception."
Reaching out, he takes up the shot of vodka and doesn't immediately throw it back. Instead, he asks, "The usual, Buck? Or do people want to look at the menu? Wait…do we have one stuck on the fridge?" He squints at the side of the fridge, covered in magnets and papers, an old habit dating pre-serum.
*
"Hey, if you're not careful I may just show up as the official wedding you," Nat retorts, though she does dismiss it momentarily, "but don't worry, I won't do anything to hamper the legality of the document. I'll behave." Spreading her arms apart, Natasha grins, "you probably know better than anyone you couldn't torture a secret out of me." Bringing the shot glass closer to her lips, she muses, "more often than not when tortured, I was the one with the upper hand, they just didn't know better at the time."
"I'll wear a tux if you please," she grins at the honor offered, raising her shot glass at Bucky and Steve, "your happiness together." she toasts once in English for the benefit of Steve. Even if he likely knows Russian as it is.
"Don't have to worry about me Steve, my lips are sealed." She grins as Steve turns to Bucky with uncertainty, "I'd say whatever is your usual, plus my Curry Puffs, the rest I'll steal from Bucky…"
*
"Coconut soup, satay, and pad thai for me," Buck orders, without hesitation. Apparently, it will be the usual order. HE tosses back the vodka, then reaches over to bump human knuckles with Nat. "I know you will. And you'll look divine in whatever you choose." A smirk. "You always did have the upper hand," he agrees.
*
Steve grins despite himself. "I'll do a double order of the usual then. Can't complain about leftovers." At least, he can't and certainly won't, given he's one half of a pair who once lived where one ate all of their food and squirreled away the rest for an uncertain tomorrow.
He throws back his vodka, coughs once, and then hits the call button. The Captain wanders away into the living room to make the order, leaving Bucky and Natasha to their devices while he's listening to the phone ring.
*
"Fine, I lied, an extra coconut soup, that Tom Kha is ridiculously delicious," Nat remarks, before bumping knuckles with Bucky, she grins at his last remark. "You didn't always believe that, Bucky, but I won you ever in the end."
She salutes Steve as he goes about making the order, and slinks back towards the vodka, just for one small refill, just the one. "This is pretty good Bucky, you bought it, correct?"
*
"I did," Buck says. "I swear to God….the brand is actually 'Chernobyl'." He pulls a face. "But it's good. Just a dumb, gimmicky name." Another pair of shots for the both of them. "Yeah, I was guilty of underestimating you. Just like every other guy in that place, I confess it."
*
In the background, they can hear Steve listing off the usual orders — first Bucky's, then his, and then he's certain to add the addendums for Natasha — and then doubling the order. He laughs a little. "Yes, I'm sure, double it. Can we get it ordered? Yeah, the address is…" He regales the server with the address of the brownstone and adds, "Buzz at the bottom of the stairs, I'll come down and get it. Fifteen minutes sounds great. Yeah, thanks."
Wandering back over, the Captain plucks Bucky's shotglass from his hand, shoots the vodka, and then gives it back to him. "Shocked 'em this time with that order. I'm surprised they said fifteen minutes and not thirty." He's unrepentent about that stolen shot by the twinkle in his eyes as he goes around the far side of the island counter for relative safety.
*
Nat laughs, "can't say humor is a lost art, what does their ad say? Buy our brand, it's nuclear?" She chuckles with a shake of her head. "It's fine, you did knock my ego down a bit, before I was assigned to you they had to send new trainers every month." Natasha winks, as she looks down where Steve headed, "he'll be fine with that order right? He does more than just fighting these days?"
When Steve finishes the order and comes over for another shot, Nat laughs, "maybe they have metas working the kitchen? I always wondered that, I hear about heroes and villains all the time, why not use your powers to excel at your job? I bet it gets you more pay, no?"
*
Bucky looks at his emptied shotglass with a tragic expression. Raises sad blue eyes to Natasha, then looks over at Steve, then back at Natasha. "You see what I have to live with, Alianovna," he says, in his most long-suffering voice.
Then, pragmatic, he pours more vodka. "Or just expert cooks," he suggests.
*
"Could even be metahumanly-expert cooks," Steve hazards from across the island counter. He's apparently had what he wants in terms of vodka, for his own shotglass stands without claimant. "They'd get paid more, I'd think, yeah." Bucky just gets that cat-in-the-cream smile from the Captain; somehow, it still manages to be innocent, and evens out to be simply cheeky in the end.
"Maybe if you get bored one day, Buck, you can take up line-cooking again. You're a decent cook." It's teasing, the accolade. Steve himself? He burns rice.
*
"It is quite tragic, I think you deserve another," Natasha concurs, winking at Bucky as she goes about fetching the vodka for another go, filling Bucky's glass first. "Not bad at all…glad to see Steve can survive taking your vodka," she muses, "sign of a strong relationship."
"Oh please, Rogers, you think they'd let Bucky cock with that metalic arm? You haven't seen a kitchen hazard until you've seen Bucky demand perfection of his underlings," she jabs Bucky playfully at her point.
*
"I have mercy for him, because I love him," Buck intones, solemnly. His eyes are very bright, as he turns to look at Steve. He lifts the shot, intones, "To mercy," and then knocks it back.
To Nat, he notes, "I was a cook before the war, when I was a young man. I'd work whatever job I could get, and it was a way to keep us fed."
*
Bucky gets a sloppy, two-fingered salute from the blond's brow and out to him. "To mercy," Steve echoes and then laughs once, almost more of a cough. He turns to the fridge and digs out a bottle of mineral water, lemon-flavored.
"It's true, Nat," he adds over his shoulder as he grubs out a glass from the cupboard and turns back to the island counter. "He was good at it too. Can't imagine how he'd be at keeping track of a kitchen, but…" The water glugs into the glass and Steve shrugs, grinning. "Bet he'd keep it ship-shape. Be a hell of a show with a butcher's knife in his hand." Nat gets a conspiratorial glance; ROAST HIM.
*
"Congratulations, Bucky, you just made toast to 'mercy', will wonders ever cease?" Nat jokes as she has her final shot, finally put the bottle of vodka away. Can't have too much after all. "Hey, I just learned something new about you, so what did you like cooking the most?" She wonders, peering at Steve for a hint.
Looking from Steve, to Bucky, Nat seems to consider the invitation, but then it's such a happy occasion, and Bucky did have his vodka shot stolen earlier. Instead, she goes easy with an entirely expected, "I suppose it'd be ship-shape, until old habits kick in, and a sous-chef goes missing…"
*
"I would never use a useless sous-chef to thicken a solyanka, I swear," Buck says, with mock solemnity. "And blame love, Natasha. It's mellowing me. I live in tame domesticity now, no threat to anyone. Wouldn't hurt a fly." He lays his hand over his heart, looks pious.
*
The claim from Bucky is enough to make Steve bust out a laugh. Thank god he was screwing the cap onto the green glass bottle of mineral water or it would've sloshed everwhere. "Buck, I had to paint over the hole in the wall you left last week when you threw a dart at a fly and nailed him." Eyebrows beg the Soldier to make another goofy claim yet before Steve puts away the bottle in the fridge once more.
"I mean, the solyanka might be one thing, but he's got a number of things he likes to cook. Makes mean pancakes," the Captain allows, sipping at his mineral water now.
*
Natasha cock her head sideway, raising a brow in a very Nat like version of saying 'as if' purely in facial expression. She then turns to applaud when Cap shares the story of the fly and the dart, "getting a fly with a dart IS so prokhladno."
"Mean pancakes you say…? Count me in for breakfast, one of these days…I'll figure it out. If I'm nice, I'll even let you know I'm coming."
*
There's a glitter of amusement in Buck's eyes. "I'm a mean short-order cook. I like making waffles. But honestly, anything easy. I'm no real chef…but I like eating good food."
Then he lifts a hand to Steve. "Hey, he had it comin'. He was just sitting there, washing his little hands and making faces at me. How I was I supposed to stand that?"
*
"I dunno how you tolerated it that long, Buck, given he was trying to walk all over your slice of cake the entire time. Watched you bat at him long enough. Thought at one point you'd throw the remote at him," Steve admits, still smiling to himself. "Wouldn't have survived." A beat. "The remote."
A long drag of the mineral water and he points a finger at Natasha from around the sweating glass. "We're up early, sometimes before sunrise. You sure you want to stump over before cock-crow for his waffles? I can make you coffee. I make mean coffee." A look at Bucky dares him to disagree.
*