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wiccamoody · 3 years

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sam loves to cook. he learned how from pestering his mom in the kitchen growing up, wanting desperately to know how she managed to put so much love and goodness into her food.

"you gotta do it with purpose, sammy," she'd say. "with care. you gotta care about it. it's not enough to just go through the motions. sure it'll get food on the table and taste good, but it won't turn out how you think it will."

she'd rest a careful hand on his as she showed him how to properly use a knife, how to curl his fingers in when slicing vegetables. they'd share soft smiles when he'd pass her the cumin, or sprinkle sugar into tomato sauce. the first time sam cooked the family dinner all on his own, no one stepping foot into the kitchen until he was done, he'd added a little too much salt but no one cared because the meal was delicious and shrouded in so much love and care.

"i wish i could cook for you," sam would say to riley, and then steve. he got to cook for steve, once when they were all so sick of takeout, and it became a whole affair when he saw how lacking for ingredients the avengers compound was ("you guys don't even have garlic powder, what the fuck?"). he'd dragged steve to the nearest grocery store, pulled him through aisle after aisle, explaining this spice or that herb or this way to prepare beef and no steve we are absolutely not boiling any veggies tonight. in the end, steve said it was by far the best meal he's ever had, but sam brushed him off as just being nice and because the man hardly knew his way past a k-ration.

sam's confident, no denying that, but cooking - he holds it close to his heart. he knows he's good at it, but feels that creeping sense of imposter syndrome when he does it for someone he loves because that's exactly why it's so important to him.

one morning, when bucky's in delacroix with him, sam makes breakfast. sarah left early, a piece of toast between her teeth and a muffled goodbye as she ran off to a meeting. she didn't mind sam cooking, encouraged it in fact, but hated him in her kitchen because he'd move things around, sometimes on purpose just to fuck with her. but on this morning he makes breakfast, phone docked to a speaker playing his 'soft songs' playlist, and he sings quietly to himself as he whips eggs and puts bacon in the oven, and glances at bucky waking up on the couch, and smiles to himself.

the boys get up right as sam is flicking off the stove, bleary-eyed from sleeping in but excitable enough to try and convince sam and bucky to play video games with them all day (sam doesn't make any promises, but he doesn't say no either - he wants to be the favourite uncle and not get in shit with his sister). the boys load their plates with omelette and bacon and toast and fruit, and once they've headed off to eat in front of the tv sam calls bucky out for staring at him again.

"i don't like eggs," bucky says, like that's a normal thing to reply to the person who made you breakfast.

"wow, man."

"no one cooked em right," bucky continues like sam hadn't said anything. "never had an egg i liked until today. probably the best breakfast i've ever eaten, actually."

"you sure have a funny way of complimenting me," was all sam could say, face feeling hot and he could swear bucky went pink at his words.

none of that mattered, though, because a month into them actually dating, sam cooked for him. he put on his secret 'bucky mix' playlist and got into the groove, spending hours in the kitchen making sure everything turned out just right.

"no one makes food like you do," bucky tells him. sam bites his lip, looks away. ducks his head as bucky reaches across the table to take his hand.

"it's 'cause i love you." and it's the first time sam tells bucky he loves him, over a meal that, yes was prepared meticulously, but really out of love and for love.

#this got long oops #ill manifest this into a fic one day but for now hc post lol #sam wilson #sambucky #this is a ramble

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