Zemo and Bucky were cuddled up on the couch in front of the TV. It was getting late but Bucky was peckish. He nudged Zemo, and looked at him with those big blue eyes.
“Make us something to eat, Hel,” he said.
Zemo looked at his dopey face, and smiled fondly. “How hungry are you, James? Snack or three course meal?”
“Just snacky, I think,” said Bucky, “Nothing too extravagant.”
Zemo nodded and got up. “I have just the thing,” he said. “I shall make us beans on toast.”
“Beans on toast?” queried Bucky. “I didn’t know you’d bought any baked beans.”
Zemo just smirked and walked into the kitchen.
“I hope it’s Branston,” called Bucky. “I’ve tried those before. They have paprika in, I think. I quite liked them.”
Zemo just hummed and clattered around in the kitchen.
After a short while, Zemo returned with a tray which he put on the coffee table in front of Bucky, with a definite flourish.
“That’s not beans on toast,” said Bucky.
On the tray was arranged, in a lovely circle, eight thick crusty slices of lightly toasted baguette with lashings of butter. Four of them had a thick covering of black caviar, and the other four had red caviar. Sprinkled on top of each, was a drizzle of lemon, and some fresh slices of spring onion. It all looked mouth-wateringly good.
“This is what we called beans on toast when I was a young child in Sokovia,” said Zemo, reaching for one with black caviar. “My mother used to make it for me quite often.” He bit into it, and made a heavenly face.
Bucky looked at him, grinned, and reached for a piece for himself.
“Ah, yes,” he said, around a mouthful of deliciousness. “I, too, often had breaded cod goujons with rustic pomme frites as a child.”
Zemo rolled his eyes, swallowed, and said “Fish fingers and chips?”
Bucky nudged him, grinning, and said, between mouthfuls, “Tomorrow, I’ll do supper. I think I’ll make us,”
“Don’t say it,” groaned Zemo, trying not to laugh.
Bucky continued “Grilled fromage melt in artisan brioche pockets.” He almost spat out some caviar as he tried not to giggle.
“Cheese Toasties,” groaned Zemo. He could already see where this was going.
“Yup,” said Bucky, reaching for a red caviar slice. “I’ll make us coffee, if you like. Sorry, a silken roast infusion topped with dairy foam. We can have some Belgian-topped oat biscuit discs to go with it.”
“Hmmm?”
“Chocolate Digestives.”
“Guess what sarnies I’m gonna make for lunch,” said Bucky, with a huge grin, the next morning as Zemo wandered into the kitchen, still in his dressing gown, all sleepy and dishevelled.
“Hmmmm?” he murmured. He walked over to Bucky and kissed him good morning. He smelled lovely.
Bucky was practically vibrating. “Go on, guess.”
Zemo pulled back and looked at him. “Oh, no,” he muttered. “Please, my James. Have mercy. It’s too early. Let me have tea.”
Bucky passed him a cup, already made. “Drink up.”
Zemo took the cup, and took his first blissful sip. His eyes closed for a second. When he opened them, there was Bucky, expectant, eyes shining.
“Inform me,” murmured Zemo, hiding his smile behind the rim of his cup.
“There are 3,” grinned Bucky.
Zemo rolled his eyes. “A trio of petite crustless delights, I shouldn’t wonder.”
“Exactly. Number 1. Chilled fromage roulé with crisp greens.”
Zemo hummed, sipped. “Cream cheese and cucumber.”
“Too easy. Right. Number 2. Heritage ham with English heat.”
“Ah. Ham and mustard?” he ventured.
“You got it! Now. Number 3. Free-range egg mousse with micro herbs.”
“Oh, my favourite. Egg mayonnaise with cress.” He smiled as Bucky gave a little delighted bow.
He thought it was all over, but the next evening Bucky was slouching in the living room doorway, watching tv standing up, eating something steamy from a plastic tub.
“What are you eating, James?” he asked.
Bucky swallowed, grinned, and Zemo just knew he had invented a new definition. He held out the pot to Zemo and said “Umami noodle infusion in a self-steaming vessel.”
Zemo just tilted his head.
“Pot Noodle!” crowed Bucky.
***