Chapter Text
Steve was on his way home from the mission debriefing when the cheesecake store caught his eye. He drove his motorcycle around the block, and when he found a place, he figured it was a sign: he and Bucky deserved a treat for their first mission together.
It had gone well, he thought. He had worried about it beforehand, taking Bucky into the field when he was still so withdrawn. But clearly Coulson had been right: just as Steve had needed the Battle of New York to give him a sense of purpose and belonging after he had been defrosted, maybe Bucky needed to fight Hydra.
And God knew SHIELD needed all the help it could get.
And they worked together well, Bucky and Steve. Bucky still had his back.
Steve stopped in front of the plate glass window, admiring the rainbow of cheesecakes on display. Raspberry, passion fruit, Dreamsicle, key lime, blueberry, lavender. So many choices.
Hydra had fed Bucky with a nasogastric tube. When Steve read that in Bucky’s file, he had figured that all the refreezing must have messed up Bucky’s digestive tract; but now he suspected that there had been no physical reason for it. Probably Pierce wanted to emphasize the asset’s dependency on Hydra. If you leave us, you’ll starve.
It hadn’t stopped Bucky from leaving Hydra, in the end. The thought filled Steve with a fierce, painful pride.
He’d get a slice of each cheesecake, he decided. Give Bucky plenty of choices.
Bucky’s debriefing hadn’t lasted as long as Steve’s, and he was already settled into the apartment by the time Steve arrived. He lay on his stomach on the floor, looking through one of Steve’s history books: The Illustrated Battle Cry of Freedom.
“Hey, Buck,” Steve said, and smiled at him.
Bucky neither smiled back nor replied. He didn’t seem to be much for unnecessary chatter anymore, and Steve tried not to think about Bucky in Brooklyn, draped across the fire escape and shooting the breeze about nothing in particular for hours.
“I got us cheesecake,” Steve said, and set the box on the table. “You want some?”
Bucky dragged himself up from the floor and clumped over to the table. His boots were still caked with dried mud from the mission. It fell off in clumps on the floor. Steve thought about saying something, but he didn’t want to spoil the moment. “Here you go,” he said instead, and opened up the cheesecake box.
Bucky’s eyebrows snapped together. “What the hell is this?”
Steve’s smile faltered. “I got a selection of different flavors,” he said, and began to point them out. “That’s raspberry, and that’s – ”
“I don’t care,” Bucky interrupted. He smacked the lid closed again. “I don’t want it.”
Steve took a deep breath. He let it out slowly. Bucky had just been held captive by a bunch of people who never gave a damn what he wanted. Steve wasn’t going to be like that, even if Bucky was a little rude. “All right,” Steve said levelly. “What would you like?”
“Pancakes.”
Pancakes. Right. Pancakes again. Pancakes for the fifth time that week. “Okay,” said Steve. He forced another smile, and then his face softened into it, so he was grinning at Bucky. Sam had warned him it would be difficult. It was worth a little difficulty to have Bucky home. “Anything you want, Buck.”
Bucky didn’t smile back.