Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Captain America (Movies)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Scott Lang, Luis (Ant-Man movies)
Additional Tags: Shrunkyclunks, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Salty Bucky Barnes, Steve is not adapting well to the future, Bread, Lets face it, This is a love story between author and bread products, Gratuitous consumption of cinnamon buns, Also gratuitous Luis cameo
Summary:
The cinnamon roll is gone in four bites. Four indecent, jaw-unhinging bites, and Steve sucks the last traces of lemon and icing from his fingers with a low, throaty sound of satisfaction. He glances up at Bucky, who is leaning against the counter and watching him with avid fascination.
“Um…” Steve says around his index finger. There’s still a little icing on the bed of his fingernail, and he stops trying to work it off with his tongue.
“You know those movies where the girl eats an eclair or something, and it’s really, like, sexually charged?” Bucky asks.
Steve pulls his finger out of his mouth. He’s never seen that kind of movie, but the thought of Bucky eating an eclair is certainly… well, it lingers. “Uh?”
“Yeah, well that was the exact opposite.” Steve scowls, and Bucky cackles gleefully. “You are something else, Steve.”
***
Замечательная история про хлеб. Про настоящие вкусы из прошлого среди искусственных порошковых продуктов настоящего.
He takes the loaf out of the bag and unwraps it slowly, feeling the crisp, firm crust crack under his fingers. He sets it on the board, and cuts off the rounded end before cutting a thick slice.
It smells yeasty and savory, not like milk or sugar, and he takes a cautious bite.
The crust is rough against his tongue, and bite alone is not quite enough to cut through it, he has to twist a little, pulling the slice away as he tears off a rough chunk with his teeth. His mouth fills with the taste of wheat, and the slightest hint of salt. Steve sits back a little in his chair, something settling deep in his bones. The bread is dense and chewy, not so tough that it makes his jaw ache, but enough to satisfy something primal, some ruminant urge that he can’t place. He swallows, and takes another bite, letting out a soft hum of satisfaction, and finishes off the slice in slow, savoring mouthfuls