The kitchen is already a mess flour on the counter, music playing way too loud, two aprons hanging unused because neither of you remembers to put them on.

You’re stirring something in a pan when you feel a presence behind you.

A very large, very warm presence.

“Smells good,” Bucky says, chin almost brushing your shoulder. He reaches around you without warning and steals the spoon right out of your hand.

“Bucky!”

He tastes it.

He moans.

Actually moans. “Doll… you’re gonna kill me.”

You reach for the spoon, but he lifts it above his head. “Gotta test it again. Y’know for science.”

He steps backward, grinning like the devil, bumping into the counter because he’s too focused on you to move properly.

“Stop eating my recipe!” you laugh, chasing him around the island

He dodges left. You dodge right. He jukes you like he’s in a damn spy movie.

“You’re supposed to be chopping veggies!” You shout.

“I am helping!” he protests. “I’m preventin’ a culinary disaster!”

You finally catch his arm. Your fingers curl around the warm muscle beneath his t-shirt. You both freeze. Too close. Too warm. Too much.

His smile softens just a little.

“You got somethin’…” he murmurs, brushing a smudge of flour off your cheek with his thumb.

The kitchen suddenly feels too small.

“See?” he says, voice dropping, almost shy. “This is why you need me.”

You swallow. He swallows. Neither of you moves.

“…Bucky, we can’t burn the food.”

He smirks like he knows exactly what almost happened. “Then you better keep an eye on me, doll.”