It was just past midnight when you heard it, the faint clatter of a metal bowl and a cupboard door easing shut. You weren’t asleep anyway.

You padded into the kitchen in socks, hair a little messy. The compound’s kitchen light was dim. Bucky stood near the stove, sleeves rolled, hair pulled back, and a small dusting of flour already streaked across his dark T-shirt. He didn’t look surprised when he glanced over and saw you.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Figured I’d try baking.”

You arched a brow. “At midnight?”

He turned back to the bowl. “Time doesn’t matter when you can’t shut your head up.”

That made sense. Bucky didn’t comment, but his shoulder tension eased a little. You could see it.

You hopped up on the counter, the cabinet creaking faintly beneath your weight.

“What are you making?” you asked after a long silence.

He glanced over, then back down at the bowl. “Not sure. Kinda started as banana bread. Might be pancakes now. I’m gonna make banana pudding later though.”

You smiled, leaning back on your hands. “Versatile.”

He huffed a sound that could’ve been a laugh. A minute passed. Then two. He set a mixing bowl down with a soft clink, then looked over again.

“You didn’t have to come keep me company.”

You blinked at him. “I know.”

Another pause. Then a small, tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Barely there. But it stayed. The timer beeped faintly and he took out whatever was in there.