[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?"

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[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."

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky gives her a quick grin and sets about working the dough with the bottle, trying to coax it into a round, thin pie crust.

Not ten seconds in, he has to gather it back up and try again, after rubbing flour over the bottle’s label.

[from_the_outside]

Sharon assists by sprinkling flour when the dough seems to be sticking, but it does at least appear to grudgingly allow itself to be rolled out, after a bit of effort. She brings the pan over, eying the flattening dough, trying to determine how large it will need to be to fit.

[nerves_of_ice]

Bucky pauses in his endeavors to eye the pan with her. "Maybe a little thinner," he says, and gets back to it.

The result, eventually, is large enough to drape over the pan's bottom and sides, and thin enough to be pie crust rather than anything else. He thinks. Bucky sets the wine bottle aside and starts trying to lift the dough from the table to transfer it over.

"Help me with this?"

[from_the_outside]

No matter how gentle she tries to be, the thin dough sticks and tears as they carefully peel it from the tabletop. "I guess we should have used more flour," Sharon says, dubious, and laughs as another rip appears. "Here – "

She brings the pan over and helps him drape the dough into it, then tries to patch up the holes by pressing the edges together, laughing. "At least this goes on the bottom, so no one will see it."

[nerves_of_ice]

“There’s that,” he agrees, and studies the crust for any final tips that need patching.

“Cherries next?”

[from_the_outside]

"That seems right."

She tips the bowl over the dough-lined pan and dumps the cherries into the crust, coaxing them out with a spoon. They've released way more liquid than she expected, but that's probably good; it'll keep them juicy.

"One more crust to go," she says, and sprinkles more flour on the table before setting down the second half of the dough for him to roll out.

[nerves_of_ice]

He gets to it with a will, and this one seems to go a little better. All their practice from the first, he figures. In what seems like no time at all, they're draping the second crust over the top of the pan.

"Then I guess we stick the edges of the two together," Bucky mutters, and starts trying to do just that.

[from_the_outside]

Sharon positions herself around the corner from him and works on the other sides, tearing off excess dough as she goes.

It winds up a little lopsided, and the edges that he squishes together look different from the ones she squishes together, but in the end they wind up with a pan full of something that doesn't not look like pie.

Sharon gives it a dubious look. "Does that look right to you?"

[nerves_of_ice]

The answer is no, honestly, but he doesn't want to say that.

"Maybe once it's baked," he says instead, hopefully. "And it's all browned. Besides, no matter what it looks like, it should taste good, right?"

[from_the_outside]

"That's the spirit," she says, amused. As she opens the oven door, a blast of hot air hits her face.

"Okay, put it in. We'll leave it up to the fates."

[nerves_of_ice]

He grins at her, shifts the whole pan onto his left hand, slides it into the oven and shuts the door.

Bucky leans over to give her a quick kiss. "Cleanup now," he says. "I remember how that part goes. Steve and I learned that fast. Then when we're done the pie should be too, or nearly."

He turns to look at the table, and winces a little at the splotches of red mixed with flour.

[from_the_outside]

Sharon comes behind him to hug around his waist, giving the table a rueful look before she kisses the nape of his neck. "Soap and water?" she suggests, not very optimistically.

She pats his sides fondly and lets go to make her way to the sink, running the hot water and adding soap into the dishpan.

[nerves_of_ice]

"Usually a good approach," he agrees, and comes up beside her to dunk the dishrag into the soapy water. Bucky wrings it out and goes to try to mop up the flour from the table, with mixed success.

"... baby, did this stain?"

[from_the_outside]

She comes over to look, and doesn't quite manage to keep the wince from her expression. "Maybe a little," she hazards, looking at the faint pink marks on the tabletop.

They match the ones on her skin. She grabs the bowls they'd used for mixing the dough and filling and eyes the tabletop once more. "...But not bad?"

[nerves_of_ice]

"We'll put newspaper down next time," he comforts her. "I don't think it's too bad. If I can't scrub it out, maybe it'll wear off, or I can refinish it later or something."

Or get Steve a new table if he wants one, he thinks to himself.

[from_the_outside]

"I'm sure it'll scrub off," she says, with more optimism than she feels, and ties her hair back into a ponytail before she rinses out both bowls and dumps them into the dishpan to wash.

"That juice got everywhere."

[nerves_of_ice]

"They're really ripe cherries," he says, smiling at her.

"You look cute."