Relearning Snuggles
Wait a minute… Is that? Am I smelling chocolate right now? I don’t have any chocolate though. Not that I know of at least. Donuts maybe? Did someone bring me chocolate donuts?
Wait! No. There’s also… notes of coffee in the air… Mocha donuts!
Is that a thing? Oh my gosh, I really hope that’s a thing now. Someone brought me super awesome mocha donuts. I must find them. So long video game!
I raced into the kitchen. Checked all the cabinets. Dug through the bits and bobs all over the counter for a hidden box. Gave the fridge a thorough look through. Checked the cabinets all over again.
…No donuts. Damn. I could have sworn –
“I can’t tell if you’re trying to clean or trying to wreck the place.”
My heart raced; I jumped nearly a foot in the air. Banged my elbow on the counter and almost fell flat on my ass trying to catch myself. The bastard who caused the whole mess just laughed.
“Yeah, yeah. Make fun,” I muttered, cradling my throbbing elbow.
“Well I was gonna say something sooner, but you seemed so determined. What were you looking for?”
Oh right. What was I doing?
I was… Wait. That scent.
I couldn’t help breathing in the sugary scent deeper. Or the smile that curved my lips afterward.
“Mocha donuts.”
Bucky jolted. “What?”
“I was looking for mocha donuts. I thought…”
Wait. This is –
“There aren’t any donuts. It’s –”
“Don’t say it!”
I flinched at the feedback crackling in my left ear. He took a step back, all that aggression swapped out for overt anxiety. He hid most of it in the seconds it took me to adjust the volume of my aid.
I took a step forward. He took a matching step back.
I held my arms out for hug. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to look aggravated but coming across instead as more anxious, ducking away another step.
“It’s okay, ya know,” I said softly.
Despite the low volume, he still flinched at my words.
“What would you like to do?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Nothing.”
Well, that’s a lie.
That heavy gaze followed me as I took a seat on the couch. He didn’t creep closer till whatever baking show I’d turned on was halfway through. Ironically enough, one of them was making chocolate cake with a coffee-infused dark chocolate glaze.
“I’m betting on that guy.”
Bucky grunted in reply. Couldn’t tell if it was in agreement or not.
Every cake was impressively decorated at the end. My guy had gone with sunflowers. Simplistic compared to some of them, but sometimes simple is best. The flowers definitely stood out against that shiny glaze. Bet it tastes awesome.
“I uh…”
He hesitated. I put on the next episode like nothing had happened. Halfway into a cookie round he spoke up again.
“I don’t want this,” he whispered.
Red velvet cake cookies kept my attention as I reached out. He’d want that after all, me not making a fuss. I knew the effort was appreciated when he finally took my hand in his.
“I don’t remember what to do,” he muttered bitterly. “It’s… It’s been so long. And Stevie just made everything awkward when I tried to approach him about it this morning.”
“Mm. That’s Rogers for ya. Captain Subtle he is not.”
The jab got a low chuckle. A small victory for sure.
We watched the end of the cookie round quietly. Got almost through the pie round until I had to complain about how badly this one guy was screwing up his pie crust. I mean come on, it’s pie crust. Bucky, a man of common sense, agreed with me. And so did the judges when the round ended and it was time for tasting.
“His apple pie sucked.”
I nodded. “Without a doubt.”
“Filling wasn’t half bad though.”
“Could have been better,” I replied.
Next episode started with a bread challenge. Croissants of all things.
...Now I’m hungry. Damn it. I want buttery croissants.
“I smell weird.”
It took a second for the words to make sense. When they did, I turned in confusion.
“No you don’t.”
He ducked his head. Let go of my hand to hug himself protectively again.
“You said it yourself. I smell like coffee donuts or something. It’s weird.”
Gotta handle this delicately.
I tilted my head down until I could catch his eye. “Wanna climb on my lap?”
Aw, brain, no. Delicate. What happened to that?
“Why would I wanna do that? The hell, Clint?” he accused, stuffing himself more into the corner of the couch.
I held my hands up in surrender. “Just a suggestion. What would you rather do?”
“Why do I gotta do anything?!”
“You don’t,” I conceded. “You don’t have to. You said you don’t remember what to do though. And that Steve was making it awkward. I’m just saying, no judgment here if you wanna try something. I’m not gonna rush you or reminisce about the good old days or pressure you to handle your heat the way you did in the 30s, however that was. I’m a blank slate. Just a friend who’s up for snuggles if you want them.”