[AU] these are not the parts and poems of the body only, but of the soul

[from_the_outside]

They've all entered a kind of tense détente after the ill-advised dinner party. Tony throws himself into work, Sharon and Pepper mostly avoid each other, and Steve, Vision, and Nat continue with oversight duties.

And the thing is... Tony's working it out. 

Not a removal, exactly, but he's getting close, he'd told them, to at least blocking the commands. It's not perfect and it's not a permanent solution, but it's a step in the right direction. It's also a step in the direction of Tony needing to test the words on Bucky himself, and so Sharon and Steve are on extra high alert, keeping an eye out for any indication that Bucky's retreating into himself again. Sharon's mostly moved into the room they share in Steve's apartment for that very reason, though she still isn't wholly comfortable with being in Steve's space all the time.

He's away today, working with Sam and Rhodey on a veteran's outreach program, so it's Sharon who walks with Bucky through the halls of the compound towards Tony's rooms. "It's you and Vision with Tony today," she tells him, and glances across the distance they're careful to maintain when not alone behind closed doors.

"How are you feeling about everything?"

Comments

[marvel_npc]

"Uh-huh."

Happy hands over the bag of flour, looking slightly askance at the guy. They haven't exactly had the best of run-ins, and it's not that Happy wants to insinuate that he isn't safe, but he very definitely remembers the aura of threat Barnes projected while he himself was arguing with Agent Carter. "I'll, uh... I'll look into it."

[nerves_of_ice]

“If you want,” he says, easily. Bucky lifts the bag slightly. “Thanks for this. I’ll get out of your hair.”

[marvel_npc]

"Yeah," Happy says, then gives himself a little mental shake and clears his throat. "Uh, so you know, this stuff is available for anyone. I use it to stock all the kitchens, but if you need anything, you can just take it."

A little reluctantly, he adds, "Thanks for the thing about the market. Pe – uh, it'd be nice to get some local stuff in here."

[nerves_of_ice]

“Thanks,” he says again. “And you’re welcome. If I run across anything else of interest, I’ll let you know.”

Bucky nods a farewell and heads back the way he came, privately satisfied.

[from_the_outside]

Back in the apartment, Sharon is having... problems.

She'd sort of figured out a rhythm to it after the first cup or so, and the others aren't quite so mangled, but her fingers are stained deep red and she has splashes of cherry juice all over her face, throat, and shirt.

"Just so you know," she calls, when she hears the apartment door open, "this is not what it looks like."

Because it looks like she's committing murder.

[nerves_of_ice]

"It's not?" Bucky calls back, as he locks the door and walks through the apartment to the kitchen. "What does it--"

He takes one look at Sharon and visibly struggles not to laugh.

"Did you win, baby?"

[from_the_outside]

"I think it might be a draw," she says, amused, and holds up one half of a murdered cherry, red juice dripping down her fingers.

"The important thing is that I have successfully - ish - eviscerated all the cherries the recipe says we need."

[nerves_of_ice]

"That's definitely good news." He holds up the flour. "For my part, I tracked down Hogan and found where he keeps the stash of supplies for anything ever that we might need in the kitchen. Or if someone wanted to open a restaurant."

[from_the_outside]

"Now that would be a career shift," she laughs, and puts the cherry remains into the bowl with the others, then gets up and carefully turns the faucet on with her elbow so she can wash her hands.

"The recipe says we should toss the cherries with sugar and cornflour... I guess I should have had you get that, too. But regular flour should work, right?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"I don't see why not." He hunts around while Sharon's washing her hands and comes up with a clean dishtowel. Bucky dampens the end of it and dabs at the cherry juice on her throat and cheek.

"Does anything go in the crust besides flour and butter and I guess sugar? Hogan asked if I needed anything else and I didn't think so, but I can run back down there if we do."

[from_the_outside]

Sharon smiles up at him, her cheeks dimpling, and submits to his ministrations. "I don't think so," she says. "Salt and cold water. And – huh."

She looks around. "I don't think Steve has a rolling pin. But we could use a wine bottle, probably."

[nerves_of_ice]

"That should work. It's round," he says, practically, as he sets the towel to the side on the counter by the sink. "I'll go find one and wash it."

[from_the_outside]

Her hands are still lightly stained pink and she's pretty sure she's got spots all over her throat and face, but Sharon Carter has never given up on a mission yet, and she's not going to start now.

She pulls up the recipe and goes to pre-heat the oven to four hundred degrees, then returns and starts measuring out sugar to mix into the cherries, along with a few tablespoons of flour.

It looks right, at least, and she sets the bowl of filling aside to wait while she puzzles over the recipe for the dough itself.

[nerves_of_ice]

He comes back with a bottle of cabernet from the rack in the front room that he's fairly sure Natasha must have helped Steve fill, and goes to the sink to wash it.

"... do we have pans? A pan, at least?"

[from_the_outside]

Sharon looks blank. "Um..."

In a fit of desperation, she opens the bottom drawer of Steve's oven and digs around in what she finds there, coming up with a square aluminum pan of indeterminate origin. "Will this work?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Probably," Bucky decides. "It's just square, not round. I'll poke around a little more just in case."

He doesn't end up finding anything that looks more pie-shaped, and shrugs. "Square pie it is."

[from_the_outside]

"Easier to cut," Sharon says, optimistically, and starts measuring out flour into another bowl. "Can you get the butter from the fridge?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"Sure," Bucky says, going over to open the fridge door. "How much butter do we need?"

There's a box of butter in sticks stuck at the back of the fridge, and a small plastic container labeled "whipped butter spread" nearer the front.

[from_the_outside]

"Um..."

She consult the recipe. "Six tablespoons."

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky pulls out the plastic container and opens it, then goes to get a tablespoon and holds it over the container to eyeball the volume.

"Sure, that should be enough," he says. "And this is already open, so we should probably use it first."

He brings container and spoon over to her. "Just scoop it in?"

[from_the_outside]

"Uh-huh."

She frowns at the recipe, then goes to get a butter knife. Sharon studies the recipe, puts the butter knife back, and gets a fork. "This says to cut it into the flour until it's pea-sized. So... go ahead and put it in, and I'll mash it up."

[nerves_of_ice]

“Okay,” he says, a little dubiously, and starts scooping out tablespoons.

“Why pea size?”

[from_the_outside]

"I have no idea," Sharon admits. "You'd think it should just all be mixed in together."

But that's sort of happening anyway, as she mashes the butter spread into the flour with the fork, winding up with some flour dust and a few large chunks of flour and butter smeared together.

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky watches this with interest and reaches for the wine bottle. “Want me to try to roll it out?”

[from_the_outside]

"Can't hurt," she points out.

Sharon pats the lumps together into two balls, spreads some flour on the tabletop, and scoops one ball of misshapen dough onto it. "Okay, go to town, baby."