“What the hell is figgy pudding anyway?” Sam asked sitting at the kitchen island.
“In the old days, it was a disgusting pudding with fig in,” I looked up at him.
“You’re joking,” He stated.
“Not at all. Most of the time nowadays it’s made as a hot cake.”
“How do you even know all this?”
“Christmas was always a big deal my family growing up. My dad taught me how to make this,” I explained. “He used to make cooking lessons like these into history lessons.”
“So, if it’s supposed to be served hot why are you making it today?” He questioned.
I laughed, “Sometimes you can be such a literal person.”
He shrugged.
“It can be heated in the oven when we’re ready to eat it.”
He made a silent oh with his mouth.
I turned my back to him pulling the bunt cake pan out.
“Why aren’t the caterers making it?”
“We didn’t ask them to.”
I oiled the pan and poured the batter into it. It was a rare occasion that Sam and I hung out just the two of us. Maria had drug Bucky into a training course of some kind, he didn’t explain, and I didn’t ask. Anxiety was starting to kick in with the “family” dinner being hosted here tomorrow, I really just wanted to curl up in bed and wish everyone away. Bucky understood my social anxiety, Sam not so much.
I quickly popped the cake in the oven and turned my attention back to Sam.
“So,” I drug out the word. “Maria.”
He groaned, “How long have you known?”
“Um, I dunno. The Stark party kind of confirmed the thought I had for a while.”
“But how? We thought we were hiding it pretty well.”
I laughed, “You mean like how Bucky thought he was hiding it?”
“Yeah, like that.” Sam laughed. “But seriously, when is the wedding?”
My eyes shot open at the question. What did Sam know that I didn’t? There had been no discussion of that topic, he was still dodging my question about why he shouldn’t have kids.
“Calm down, you don’t have to share.” Sam grinned. “Well, Maria and I are planning a June wedding. She’s planning to ask you to be the maid of honor at dinner tomorrow.” He got up from the island and walked to the fridge. “But don’t tell her I said anything.”
He said it so coolly I couldn’t tell if he was joking, surely, he was, right?
Sam’s phone rang effectively saving him from finishing this conversation. He quickly left the house stating some kind of non-emergency, emergency. I shuffled around the house waiting for the figgy bunt cake to finish. My mind ran a million miles an hour with questions spurring from the conversation with Sam. I tried to justify all the ways he had to be joking about him and Maria, but some of it made sense also. Every thought train led back to Bucky. He and Sam had gotten closer, but had they gotten close enough that Bucky would say something to Sam about it?
When the cake had finished, I put it in the freezer to chill and made a quick glaze for it. I found myself pacing again, even picking up my phone a few times to call Pepper. Each time I thought better of it, I didn’t want to spur on any gossip; especially not on the eve of this dinner. Eventually, I gave in and text Bucky to ask when he’d be home and waited for a response.
Pulling the cake out of the freezer, I drizzled the glaze over it and garnished it with fresh cranberries. Staring at I contemplated if we really needed it for tomorrow night or if my emotions needed it more. It didn’t take long for logic to lose and me to grab a fork.
Before I knew it, the cake was gone, and I was drinking tea the kitchen island staring at an empty cake plate. The sun had set, and the kitchen was only dimly lit, I was so far stuck in my own emotions and thoughts I had completely lost track of time.
“We’re home,” Bucky called out walking through the hall.
I turned to look at the archway to see who was coming in. It was just Sam and Bucky.
“Thought that cake was for tomorrow night?” Sam asked raising his eyebrows. “How did you polish off a whole cake?”
Bucky walked straight over and kissed me before heading to the fridge.
“It was for tomorrow night; I’ll text Pepper and have her add it to the catering menu,” I explained. “Someone ruined my afternoon with burning questions and then vanished,” I said pointedly to Sam.
He looked at me confused.
“How are you and Maria getting married so quickly?” I groaned unsure if it was more form confusion or something else.
Sam burst into laughter.
“You’re getting married?” Bucky asked confused.
Sam started shaking his head.
“I hate you,” I muttered angrily.
“You thought they were getting married?” Bucky was still confused. “Why?”
“Why don’t you explain that to him, Sam?”
His laughed finally started to settle. “I may have asked her when you two were getting married. She freaked out so I jokingly said Maria and I were getting married in June and she’d be the maid of honor.”
“Maria will kill you,” Bucky explained.
“I’m going to rat you out to her,” I added.
“Oh man,” Sam started to laugh again. “I’m gonna go call her.”
Bucky came to lean against the counter across from me. “You ate an entire bunt cake because of this?”
“No, there was more I guess.” I sighed, “More in my head though.”
“Talk to me, doll.”
I picked at the label from my tea bag, “Sam made it seem so real, that they were getting married. And I dunno, I guess it was the way he said everything together made it seem like he knew something about us that I didn’t.” I shrugged.
He reached out his hand to cover my own, “I would never tell Sam anything like that.”
I nodded. Subconsciously I knew that.
“Do you want to?” He asked.
My eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Get married?”
He nodded.
“That’s a complicated question. One I am emotionally unprepared to discuss after this much cake.” I replied honestly.
Bucky smiled, seemingly grateful to be off the hook from that conversation. “What was it anyway?”
“Figgy pudding,” I replied standing up.
“But Sam said it was a cake.”
I rolled my eyes, “Come on old man, I’ll explain it to you.”