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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years

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The Bake Sale (Part 2)

"I could fit in there," you decide.

"Probably," Bucky shrugs, the three of you looking at an open locker in the vacant hallway of Peter's school. "Steve used to get shoved into lockers all the time."

"They had lockers in 'ye olden days?" Sam snickers.

"Doesn't that joke ever get old?" Bucky retorts.

"The only old thing here is you," Sam easily quips.

You place a hand over your mouth to smother the audible chuckle that accidentally escapes your mouth. Bucky's eyes accusingly narrow at you. "Really, you too?"

"Sorry," you apologize, grabbing his arm and putting it over your shoulders. "You sorta walked right into that one."

"You're lucky I like you," he sighs, kissing your temple. He turns back to Sam with a glare, "You? Not so much."

"You don't just like me," you continue teasing, now walking down to the large multi-purpose room at the end of the hall. "You love me."

"Yeah," he sighs again. "It's unfortunate, really. Met the love of my life, sure, but now I'm stuck with him for the rest of my life."

"As long as you know you're stuck with us," Sam laughs, clapping a hand on both your and Bucky's shoulder.

"Am I the only person that smells that?" you cringe, wrinkling your nose as you walk down the hall.

"Nope. It's what every high school in America smells like," Sam chuckles. "Puberty and Axe body spray."

You open your mouth to ask Sam, but with the odor still filling your nostrils, you're not sure you want to know.

"Now this," Sam claps with a mischievous glint in his eye, the three of you finally standing at the double doors of cafeteria. You internally groan, recalling Sam's suspicious eagerness to come and support Peter's bake sale. Bucky scoffed, reminding him that they were Avengers, not exactly the most low-profile people so going would probably do more harm than good. Sam waved him off, telling him that's what hats were for. So here the three of you stood, in front of the lunchroom, both Bucky's and Sam's hats pulled low as you watched the bake sale take place. "This is where I get my revenge."

"No," you chide with a light slap to Sam's shoulder. "We're here to support."

"Obstacles build endurance," Sam retorts, just about to pull the cafeteria door open when you stop him again.

"You promised you two would behave. I've got powers and I'm not afraid to use them," you threaten.

"Because powers is so low-profile," Sam taunts.

You tilt your head at Sam, "You really want to find out?"

"Alright, alright," Sam concedes, putting his hands up in concession. "I'll behave."

"I haven't said a word," Bucky says, also holding his hands up in innocence.

"Good," you nod, finally allowing Sam to open the door.

An overwhelming smell of baked goods and the sweet smell of unknown confections fills your nose as you walk into the cafeteria. Long tables are set up around the perimeter of the room which is packed enough that your entrance thankfully doesn't call any attention to the three of you.

You, Bucky, and Sam slowly stroll in scanning the room as you start walking following the flow of the tables set up.

No one pays you any attention and for a moment you think that maybe Sam and Bucky really did just want to be nice and support Peter's school.

In the next moment, you're proven very wrong.

Your eyes are languidly raking over each of the tables you pass by, and before you even see him, you hear Sam's loud call, "Peter!"

"Sam!" you scold, grabbing Sam's arm to stop him from embarrassing Peter.

"What? I'm being supportive," Sam insists, prying his arm out of your death grip to proudly strut to Peter's little section. "Oh, Peter!"

This time, when Sam slips out of your grasp, you audibly groan. You share a knowing look with Bucky before reluctantly following Sam to hopefully minimize the amount of chaotic embarrassment that he's going to cause.

"Oh, uh, hello, random stranger," Peter awkwardly greets Sam, the anxiety and borderline embarrassment making his face and ears burn a bright red.

"You really sold that one, Pete," MJ sarcastically remarks from behind Peter. She nudges her head in your direction, "There's two more of them, by the way."

"Hi, Pete!" you greet, though much quieter and much less obnoxious than Sam, when you reach his booth. "How'd you do so far?"

"Oh, I already sold out," Peter informs you, relaxing only the slightest bit when he sees you. "I'm just here waiting with MJ."

"They like me," you softly gleam to Bucky.

"Well, they like your brownies," Sam corrects, turning his attention away from Peter for a moment.

"Why?" you shrug, frowning at Sam. "Why do you have to take things from me?"

"Doll," Bucky whispers from behind you, tugging your hand in the other direction. He points to a table with an assortment of cupcakes, "Look at that."

"Why don't you get one?" you casually suggest.

"'Cuz," he shyly mutters, meekly shrugging his shoulders.

"Do you want me to get you one?" you offer, trying not to smile at Bucky's endearingly introverted tendencies.

"Please," he sighs in relief, handing you a twenty dollar bill.

"You probably don't need this much, James," you chuckle.

"Can I get two?" he quietly asks, practically whispering in your ear.

"Sure," you nod, shaking your head as you snicker at him.

"Behave," you quietly warn Sam before turning to walk at the cupcake table.

It's thankfully almost right in front of MJ's, close enough that you can still hear any trouble Sam is planning on stirring up. And though he stands right behind you, towering over both you and the high school student that looks at him with wide-eyes, you order two of the cupcakes for Bucky.

"Sorry, he's shy," you chuckle, jutting your thumb at Bucky as the teenager packs up two cupcakes.

"Oh," the girl half-heartedly chortles, handing you both cupcakes and your change.

Just as Bucky's about to quietly thank you, you hear Sam's voice over the quiet chatter that fills the room, "Okay, fine! We don't know you. Everyone, we do not know Peter Parker!"

"Oh my God," Peter whines, curling into himself as people start glancing over at his table.

"You know that's more weird, right?" MJ remarks. "3 random adults with no connection to any student just showing up to a high school bake sale."

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds weird," Sam remorsefully shrugs.

"Does the hat thing even work? Or could someone just, like take it right off your head?" MJ wonders aloud. "And what about the fact that you're both like 6 feet tall and people can still see your faces?"

"I think she's got a point," you agree, recalling your refusal to wear a baseball hat when you left the Compound this morning despite Sam's various insistences.

"The hat stays on," Sam proudly states. "The hat has never failed me. And you're just lucky that no one's recognized you yet."

"Please," you scoff, waving him off. "No one even knows who I am."

"Hey," you hear an unfamiliar voice call. "You're that lady! The lady who tore down that SHIELD building last year."

"Okay," you reluctantly concede, freezing at the unknown voice that just called you out. "Maybe one person will know."

"Oh, uh, Flash," Peter stammers. "This is, Ms....Uh, actually I don't know your last name."

You wave Peter off, "Oh, I don't have one. I'm not even legally a person-"

Sam nudges you with his elbow. You turn to look at him wildly shaking his head at you. "Oh, right," you wince, finishing your tangent by giving Flash your name.

"How does Parker know an Avenger?" Flash condescendingly questions.

"Uh, through my Stark internship," Peter hesitantly explains.

"You invited an Avenger to a high school bake sale?"

"Well," Peter winces. "They sort of invited themselves."

"I actually think it's really cool here," you object.

"Only to people who peak in high school," Flash snarks.

"Oh well, I never went to high school, but one time I lived in SHIELD housing for over a year with Sam-"

"Alright, that's enough out of you," Sam interjects, pulling you away from the conversation. "Are you gonna give him your credit card information too?"

"Sam, please," you guffaw. "Who would let me have a credit card?"

"Yeah, you're weird," Flash scoffs, turning around and walking away from Peter's booth.

"She's not weird," Bucky defends, though his voice his muffled by the pastry stuffed in his mouth. As Flash walks away, Bucky quickly finishes the food in his mouth, clearing his throat, "And I'm a lot scarier when my mouth isn't full!"

"Aw..." you coo, resting your head on his shoulder. "Of course you are."

"She's a little weird," Sam concedes.

You nod once, pointing your finger at Sam. "And I accept that."

"You know what? You're cool," MJ decides out of the blue, nodding her head at you. "I like you."

"Really?" you beam.

"What about us?" Sam huffs, gesturing to himself and Bucky.

"I should probably go check on my table," Mj lilts, jutting her thumb in the other direction and walking away without another word.

"We're cool too," Sam calls after her.

You lean over the table, quietly asking Peter, "Didn't you say this was MJ's table?"

"Yeah," Peter whispers back.

"You think I'm cool right?" you ask Peter.

"Oh, uh, er... I have to- I have to go do that thing."

"Ha!" Sam laughs. "You're just as uncool as the rest of us adults."

"You win some, you lose some," you shrug.

"Yeah, well, we should get out of here before anyone else recognizes us," Bucky interjects.

"I'm just gonna run to the bathroom," you tell the two of them.

Bucky nods suspiciously, an odd smirk forming on his face. "Okay. We'll meet you out front."

"Behave," you warn again, walking backwards to keep eye contact with the two of them.

"Scout's honor," Bucky promises as you walk away.

"Did Boy Scouts even exist when you were a kid?" Sam snickers.

"Yeah, they did," Bucky flatly responds.

"You were never a boy scout," Sam scoffs.

"No, I wasn't." Before Sam can question the double meaning of Bucky's ominous words, two things happen simultaneously: Bucky slaps the hat off of Sam's head and Sam hears Bucky loudly call to the room full of people, "Look, an Avenger!"

Before Sam can even react, Bucky bolts out of the cafeteria, leaving him to be mobbed by a room full of invasively curious parents and students.

"Asshole," Sam hisses to himself, his exit now blocked off by dozens of people crowding him.

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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years

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The Bake Sale (Part 1)

The last thing Bucky expects to hear after days away on a grueling, exhausting mission as he rounds the corner into the kitchen are the sounds of complete and utter chaos.

The quiet hum of the oven, the consistent, pained thrum of an overworked mixer, pots and pans being shifted and clattering together, the smell of something burnt clinging to the warm air.

He sighs in resignation, knowing that he probably doesn't want to know.

No, he knows he doesn't want to know.

He's so sure that he doesn't want to know that he turns on his heels to walk away before the curiosity can lure him in. He only falters when he hears you and Sam childishly bickering back and forth, truly only like siblings would. He'd spent the better part of an hour looking for you in the Compound, normally, you're the first one to greet him after he's done debriefing, but today you were nowhere to be found.

And now that he thought about it, he hadn't heard from you all day. Not since your text the night before about potentially cancelling your date for tonight because he'd been gone for so long and you were worried he'd be exhausted.

And just like that, his curiosity gets the best of him.

"Stupid metric system," Sam loudly groans as Bucky pokes his head into the kitchen.

"What does the metric system have to do with you burning chocolate?" you retort, a humorous amount of irritation in your voice.

"How am I supposed to know what a double boiler is? Does it look like I've ever double boiled anything ever?!"

"It definitely doesn't mean you throw it in the microwave! Now we have to start over!"

"We're never going to finish if we start over. Can't we just use it like this?" he asks, trying to scrape the burned bits from the glass bowl.

"Do you hear yourself?" you chide. "We can't use that!"

You're faced away from the doorway when Bucky silently sidles in from behind you. You jolt at the surprise, but the second you feel his familiar touch you relax, your annoyed expression fading as he wraps his arms around your waist from behind you, he murmurs, "What are you doing? I've been looking for you."

"Hi," you hum, the irritation leaving your voice as you speak to Bucky.

"Hi," he greets, his voice a gruff whisper. "What're you doing?"

"Helping Peter for a bake sale."

"And where is the little menace?" he asks with a playful disdain in his voice.

You playfully slap his shoulder as he scans the disaster that makes it look like a bakery threw up on the kitchen island. "You need to let that go."

"No."

"Not that anyone's acknowledged me in the last five minutes, but I have to agree with Bucky," Sam interjects, throwing the kitchen rag down on the island. "I don't even know how I got roped into helping him."

"Anyway," you sigh, shaking your head and rolling your eyes as you ignore yet another one of Sam's sarcastic jabs at Peter. "Pete said he was going to talk to MJ."

"And then he ditched us to go 'patrol'," Sam adds, his voice just above disapproving mutter.

"He's a busy kid," you defend.

"If he's not here doing the work, why should we have to keep going? We're not the ones raising money."

"It doesn't matter, we promised we'd help so we're going to help," you state, pointing a spatula at Sam as a vague threat.

"Uh, I promised I'd help you, not Peter," Sam corrects, using his hand to lower the spatula.

"And you're helping me help Peter."

"You omitted that information!" Sam accuses.

"I - Yeah, okay I omitted," you reluctantly concede. "But it's too late, you promised."

"Have you guys been like this all day?" Bucky snickers, sliding onto the stool next to you.

"Pretty much," you both reply simultaneously, nodding in tandem.

"Hey, since you're here, you maybe want to help?" Sam pointedly asks Bucky.

"I would."

"But?" Sam urges.

"But I don't want to," Bucky finishes.

"You're a mean old man, you know that? Your boyfriend's a mean old man," Sam scolds, his glare shifting between you and Bucky.

You dismissively wave your hand at Sam, "He just got back, leave him alone."

"So you defend Bucky but not Sam," Sam mutters to himself.

"I heard that," you quip, looking down at the recipe you found online to figure out what step you were on. "Right, starting back over again. We've got everything measured. Now, mixing."

"On it."

You put the last dry ingredient into the large stand mixer, turning away to hand Sam the towel that's supposed to go on top of the mixer since he lost the plastic cover a few hours back. "Okay, just don't forget to put the towel-"

Just as you speak, Sam flicks on the mixer still only filled with dry ingredients, on the highest setting. Your head snaps up at the sound of a sharp exhale and Bucky's hearty laughter.

"Over the mixer," you finish, trying to hold in your laugh as a large puff of dry ingredients kicks up right in Sam's face.

You clap a hand over your mouth to contain your laugh, while Bucky doesn't hesitate before inserting a sarcastic comment, "Doing great there, Sam."

"Towel?" you offer, though in spite of your best efforts, a chuckle manages to escape your lips. "Sorry."

"This is the last time I ever help you," Sam rants. "I swear-"

"Okay, I've seen enough. Move over, Sam," Bucky says, standing up and shooing Sam away from his spot.

Sam grabs the towel from your hand, hastily wiping his face with a damp towel. "Has hell frozen over? Bucky's just offering to help me?"

"Do you want to go find out?" Bucky vaguely threatens, curling his metal hand into a fist.

"Oh good, I was worried you'd turned a new leaf," Sam says, dramatically wiping his forehead to feign relief.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm not offering to help you, I'm offering to help her," Bucky corrects, pointing his thumb at you.

"And I thank you for it," you smile, wiping down the new mess on the counter.

"Sure, help her, but not Sam," Sam scoffs, twiddling a whisk in between his fingers. "Like you could do any better."

"Better than you," Bucky retorts, snatching the whisk away from Sam. "Gimme that. You're not fit to hold the whisk."

"I thought you don't know how to cook?" Sam questions, taking off his apron and throwing it at Bucky before he rounds the island to sit in the seat Bucky was just occupying.

"I don't. But I do have basic life skills, unlike some people," Bucky pointedly remarks, glaring at Sam as he ties the apron around his waist.

"Still Bucky Barnes, wearing an apron, never thought I'd see the day. Wa-pow," Sam teases, flicking his wrist to imitate a whip.

Bucky scoffs at the smirk on Sam's face, "What the hell was that?"

"It's a whip...because you're whipped. Duh."

"I'm not whipped."

"You're whipped."

"Let me just run you through a hypothetical," Bucky interjects, moving all the dirty pots and pans scattered all along the counter into the sink. "You suck at baking. You take up my girlfriend's entire day. Said girlfriend spends no time with me because of your terrible life skills. Somehow, I lose, because of you."

"Hypothetically, you're an asshole," Sam retorts.

"Sticks and stones, Sam. Sticks and stones," Bucky smugly dismisses.

"Alright," you clap, abruptly interjecting before they can start bickering again. "Let's get started."

"Sounds simple enough," he murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder as you walk him through the recipe. Then with a smug grin, he eyes Sam, "Kinda thing only an idiot could mess up."

And much to Sam's dismay, things start going a lot smoother. You gave up on any intricate dessert after your third failed batch with Sam this morning, so you settled for something simple: brownies.

And even more to Sam's dismay, Bucky's a pretty good assistant. Or at least, better than Sam.

Bucky carefully pours the last of the brownie mix into the greased pan, lightly sprinkling the chocolate chunks he cut up earlier - something that was his own suggested addition to the recipe you found online.

"You're actually pretty good at this," you comment, your arms crossed as you lean on the counter intently watching his impressive baking skills.

"Ah," he waves you off, finally sliding the last batch in the oven. "I really can't cook, but I picked up a few things from watching my Ma."

"It's very impressive," you praise. Then you whisper in his ear, "And attractive."

A hearty laugh bubbles of Bucky's mouth, "Noted."

Sam dramatically gags. "Still right here."

"Not for a lack of trying," Bucky quips.

"Asshole," Sam mouths to you over Bucky's shoulder.

You playfully roll your eyes, packing the rest of the brownies as they cool. And just as all the chaos of the day settles, FRIDAY announces Peter's return.

"Wow, guys! This looks great," Peter commends, walking back into the kitchen after changing back into his normal clothes. He marvels at the sight of all the plated pastries for him to take to school the next day. "Thank you so much!"

You dismissively wave him off. "It was nothing."

"Speak for yourself," Sam admonishes, turning back to Peter. "What are you even raising money for?"

"New equipment for the school lab," Peter replies.

With the way Sam's face drops, you put your hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat. Just in case. "You're raising money for a school lab when Tony gives you almost complete access to his?"

"Well, the kids at my school don't know that. And besides, they'd know something was up if I was the only person that didn't help. And other kids use it too."

"So we did all of this for you to keep appearances?" Bucky huffs, throwing down his oven mitt.

"Uh," Peter stammers. "Kinda?"

"It's alright, Pete. With great power comes great responsibility, right?" you encourage, warmly smiling at him. Then your face drops as you think about what you just said. You turn to Sam and ask, "Where did I hear that from?"

"I don't know," Sam audibly wonders. "It sounds familiar though. You should write that down somewhere."

"I should!" you agree. "But I feel like I heard it from somewhere, I just can't figure it out... Oh well."

"Well, this was a waste of an afternoon," Bucky concurs.

You shrug, brushing off their negativity. "Well, I had fun."

Part 2

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