Chapter 5
It all went so wrong. Steve didn’t know how it was possible for a mission to go so fucking wrong. There were so many kids trapped in the building when it collapsed and they were all hopeless to help. All Steve wanted to do was curl up in his mom's lap while she ran her fingers through his hair and told him everything was going to be okay. But she was dead just like everyone else he loved.
But he could have her pie. He knew exactly where he could get a slice of pie that tasted just like Sarah Rogers' famous apple pie.
He forced himself off the couch and out the door. He made the familiar walk to Barnes’s Buns, thinking about nothing but how desperately he needed a slice of that damn pie.
When he finally got to the shop and tugged on the door, it was locked. Of course, it was closed. He rested his head on the glass door, closed his eyes, and let out a sigh.
A few seconds later he heard the lock turn. He looked up to be met with Bucky’s familiar blue eyes.
“What are you doing here Steve?” He asked, voice dripping with concern. Steve must have looked just as bad as he felt.
Steve gave him a sheepish smile. “Any chance I can get a slice of apple pie to go?”
Bucky’s eyes widened as his brow furrowed. He quickly schooled his expression, but quick enough.
“I thought you hated my apple pie?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.” Bucky opened the door all the way, gesturing for Steve to come in. “Assuming you don’t have anywhere to be.”
“I’m all yours.”
Steve walked into the café and picked a random table to sit at. After a minute Bucky came back with two slices of apple pie and two mugs.
“It’s tea. Orange cinnamon.”
“Thank you.”
Steve took a sip of his tea, delaying eating the pie.
“Do you just want to stare at it or do you plan on eating it?” Bucky teased.
“Honestly, I’m scared to try it again. It tasted so familiar that first time, eerily familiar.”
“Huh. That actually makes sense. The cookbook I got the recipe from was one my grandmother found in a second-hand store when she was a kid. I actually keep it in my office if you want to take a look at it.”
“If you don’t mind sharing your secret recipe, I’d like that.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Steve couldn’t help but watch as Bucky walked away. It was almost as if he was strutting toward his office. He really was beautiful. His soulmate was lucky to have him.
Steve was so lost in his thoughts about who Bucky's soulmate was that he didn’t realize the man had returned until the cookbook was placed in front of him.
Suddenly Steve was thrown back to 1925. He was only seven years old, but he still remembered it so vividly.
His mother pulled him away from his drawing of the view outside his window and brought him to the kitchen.
“Steven,” she said softly, “I decided that we deserve a little treat today. We are going to make an apple pie.”
His face lit up. He had only ever had his mother’s apple pie once before, on his fifth birthday, and now he was going to help his mom make it. He could still remember the taste of the cinnamon sugar two years later.
He helped her carefully measure out all the ingredients for the crust, but he wasn’t allowed to cut the apples because he was still too young to use sharp knives. When it was ready to be assembled, he was put in charge of the lattice top because of his artistic ability.
Making that pie with his mother was one of the happiest moments of his childhood, and the book that held the recipe was right in front of him on the table ninety years later.
His hand went up to cover his mouth as his eyes welled up with tears.
“Steve?” Bucky asked, voice dripping with concern.
“It’s hers.”
“Who’s?”
“My mom’s. This was her cookbook. That’s why the pie tasted just like hers. Because it is.” he couldn’t believe that nearly one hundred years later the book was still intact.
“And that’s why you couldn’t eat it last time. God, now I feel like a dick for hating you over that.”
Steve’s head shot up. “You hated me?”
“Maybe not hated, but I definitely wasn’t your biggest fan,” Bucky chuckled.
“Now I feel like a bit of an asshole.”
“I definitely wouldn't call you an asshole for that. Well, mentally I did at the time, not going to lie, but in hindsight, your reaction makes perfect sense. I shouldn’t have made that assumption about you based on that. I could sense that something was off and should have given you the benefit of the doubt.”
Steve chuckled to himself. “You really thought I was an asshole because you thought I didn’t like your pie?”
Bucky grabbed one of the napkins he brought over with the pie, crumpled it up, and threw it at Steve who was now clutching his chest laughing.
“You are like the human version of apple pie, of course, I took offense to the fact that you didn’t like it!” Bucky was laughing too.
“The human version of apple pie? Surprisingly not the first time I’ve heard that. My mother would disagree with that. After every back alley fight I got into she would say ‘Steven, you are such a sweet boy. Why do you act like you’re made of piss and vinegar?’ And she would say that often.” Steve made sure to quote his mother using her accent.
“Back-alley brawls?” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “Now that doesn’t sound like the Steve Rogers I learned about in school.”
“The history books got a lot of it wrong. Trust me, I’ve read too many incorrect biographies. They have me contemplating writing my own just to set the record straight.”
“Oh really? Aside from the back alley fights, what else has history gotten wrong about you?”
The pair spent the next two hours talking all about Steve’s childhood and time in the army. He told the story of Gilmore Hodge and how he got punched by a woman for being rude. He talked about how awful his first uniform was. He even shared a few stories from his time with the Avengers.
By the time Steve headed out for the night, he felt like maybe he had a friend in Bucky. At the very least, he had a new place he could go to for coffee and his mother’s cookbook proudly displayed on his bookshelf.