[At some point, probably after the first pancake, Bucky will realise just how much of his metabolism he can attribute to the supersoldier serum that's no longer coursing through his veins. And he too will arrive at a similar conclusion that this is too much food for two people. Hopefully before he realises he can drink and smoke and actually feel the effects of it. But for now he's still oblivious to exactly what this new and improved version of himself entails, and he's preoccupied with filling the kitchen with the smell of sizzling, crackling bacon. He's going to do all the meat first and the spluttering eggs at the end, scrambled as requested and cooked in that irresistible bacon grease.
He could just sit there and glare in sullen silence, like he usually does. Sulk about what's happened and then eventually come up with some sort of ill-thought, stupid plan. Not bother with small talk or making breakfast. Wouldn't be the first time he's sunken into weeks-long self-neglect. Look, he can tell that something is very wrong about this place, about this situation they find themselves in. But he's 15% autonomous and 110% learned helplessness. He can either go crazy in a catatonic state waiting for the other shoe to drop or he can go crazy with bacon and pancakes and some kid he made up or met on a mission and probably killed without thinking twice or just crossed paths with and his own scrambled-eggs-state of what's left of his brain is fighting desperately to make sense of all this. If he chooses the latter, he gets bacon and brownie points with his therapist, so... here they are. Ladling out smaller pikelets into the second pan instead of massive pancakes. Because no one wants to see him stuff one of those in his mouth and have half of it slapping his face without being able to cut it up properly.]
You seem a little young to enlist. [It's hard not to sound like he's trivialising or being dismissive of what Lee is talking about, but Bucky is trying his best. If he could do it all over again... knowing all the damage he's done, he's not sure he would have done things the same way he did the first time around. It hadn't seemed like such a tough decision when he was young and invincible and eager to prove himself. In fact it-- was the only decision at the time. It was the right thing to do. Now it's... he sees everything in between the right and the wrong. Sharon's caustic words did have morsels of truth in them. And glancing out the kitchen window, he idly wonders how selfish it is to think about changing the past.
He clenches his teeth at the mention of 'special mission' but otherwise doesn't remark on it. It's easy to pretend to look busy, plating up bacon, ham, sausage, scrambled eggs for Lee first, presenting the plate to him before one by one providing the knife and fork, the ketchup, the salt and pepper, the bottle of maple syrup. There's also an empty side plate he slides over, and a stack of small fluffy pancakes to take from. The smell of bacon slowly starts to mix with the pot of coffee he gets started.
That's his good deed for the day crossed off his list, right? In another thousand years or so he might just be able to afford a little bit of self-forgiveness.]
Let me guess. Top secret special mission? Small crew? Could turn the tide of the war? [Bucky drizzles syrup onto his own pancakes and squirts some ketchup onto the corner of his plate, staying standing on his side of the kitchen counter. Hopefully Lee will feel safe enough to put the boomerang down and eat. It's not like Bucky had the chance to sneak any strange ingredients into their breakfast, and he's eating the same thing save for his eggs that he did over easy. He has no knife, just a fork to stab everything with. It doesn't mean he hasn't been eyeing the knives in the wooden block, but he'll only take one once he's ready to leave the kitchen.]
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He could just sit there and glare in sullen silence, like he usually does. Sulk about what's happened and then eventually come up with some sort of ill-thought, stupid plan. Not bother with small talk or making breakfast. Wouldn't be the first time he's sunken into weeks-long self-neglect. Look, he can tell that something is very wrong about this place, about this situation they find themselves in. But he's 15% autonomous and 110% learned helplessness. He can either go crazy in a catatonic state waiting for the other shoe to drop or he can go crazy with bacon and pancakes and some kid he made up or met on a mission and probably killed without thinking twice or just crossed paths with and his own scrambled-eggs-state of what's left of his brain is fighting desperately to make sense of all this. If he chooses the latter, he gets bacon and brownie points with his therapist, so... here they are. Ladling out smaller pikelets into the second pan instead of massive pancakes. Because no one wants to see him stuff one of those in his mouth and have half of it slapping his face without being able to cut it up properly.]
You seem a little young to enlist. [It's hard not to sound like he's trivialising or being dismissive of what Lee is talking about, but Bucky is trying his best. If he could do it all over again... knowing all the damage he's done, he's not sure he would have done things the same way he did the first time around. It hadn't seemed like such a tough decision when he was young and invincible and eager to prove himself. In fact it-- was the only decision at the time. It was the right thing to do. Now it's... he sees everything in between the right and the wrong. Sharon's caustic words did have morsels of truth in them. And glancing out the kitchen window, he idly wonders how selfish it is to think about changing the past.
He clenches his teeth at the mention of 'special mission' but otherwise doesn't remark on it. It's easy to pretend to look busy, plating up bacon, ham, sausage, scrambled eggs for Lee first, presenting the plate to him before one by one providing the knife and fork, the ketchup, the salt and pepper, the bottle of maple syrup. There's also an empty side plate he slides over, and a stack of small fluffy pancakes to take from. The smell of bacon slowly starts to mix with the pot of coffee he gets started.
That's his good deed for the day crossed off his list, right? In another thousand years or so he might just be able to afford a little bit of self-forgiveness.]
Let me guess. Top secret special mission? Small crew? Could turn the tide of the war? [Bucky drizzles syrup onto his own pancakes and squirts some ketchup onto the corner of his plate, staying standing on his side of the kitchen counter. Hopefully Lee will feel safe enough to put the boomerang down and eat. It's not like Bucky had the chance to sneak any strange ingredients into their breakfast, and he's eating the same thing save for his eggs that he did over easy. He has no knife, just a fork to stab everything with. It doesn't mean he hasn't been eyeing the knives in the wooden block, but he'll only take one once he's ready to leave the kitchen.]