gotta get down for a mingle

[redactions]

Who: The crew of the SS Heron and visitors.
Broadcast: nope.
Action: Aboard the SS Heron.
When: After returning to the ship.

[ finally back on the right ship, except the corridors are all mysteriously cold and the ship seems smaller. Thanks, Atroma. New crew, visitors, starters in comments ]

Comments

[reconstitution]

[ Winter listens to Jim talk with rapt attention, soaking in the details. He can guess something like this is supposed to be common, but it's still so foreign doing normal things. It sure as hell beats murdering people for a cause he never wanted to be part of. ]

It sounds nice.

[ He hasn't completely forgotten Steve's presence, every so often sneaking glances at his back. ]

[redactions]

You can try it out if you want, hey?

[ Gently, as they finish the last of the apples. ]

[reconstitution]

Maybe someday, yes.

[ He puts the knife down on the counter, putting what they wouldn't use into the garbage can. Winter peers around Steve to briefly see what he's working on and how it's coming together. ]

[enshields]

[Meanwhile, he's rolled out a couple balls of dough and is working on flattening one down with a cylindrical liquor bottle in lieu of having found a rolling pin. Mostly he's succeeding.

He's half-listening to Barnes, at the way he's integrated with the future. So different than his own. Steve held himself apart. Between Natasha and Sam, seems like Buck tried harder to get back into the world. He has to wonder how much of that was guilt. Hinged on, what would Steve have wanted? And he wonders which one of them is more selfish for how they lived after the War.]

Might even work here.

[Mostly he just says it because he feels the attention on him as he's laying the bottom bit of dough out into the dish, and then he holds it out to them one-handed to fill.]

[reconstitution]

[ He takes the cue, gathering apple pieces and dumping them carefully into the bottom of the pie dish.

Winter looks to Jim for confirmation that something like that could be possible. Always deferring to Jim's judgement on the issue. ]

[redactions]

Maybe we'll get some Girl Scouts — or stop on a planet, who knows.

[ He peers over the now-forming pie, nodding. ]

I know how it is. You'll find a nice gal and I'll get sold down the river.

[enshields]

[His fingers spasm on the edges of the dish, he's damned lucky he doesn't break the thing. He has to turn with deliberacy, to set the dish down and get an extra lemon from the fridge all the while facing away from them both. By God's grace, or Steve Rogers' stubbornness, he manages to keep the stiffness from his shoulders and his motions easy and casual.

It was something said too easily to be unmeant. And Bucky - the Soldier, with frost clinging like spidersilk in his mind - remembered that first night back from Azzano. What Peggy said had stuck with him. Left an impression.

I should have been kinder. That night, maybe all others since.

He cuts the lemon, squeezes it out over the apples, and wets the edge of the crust against the dish. Then, very carefully, he lays the final crust down overtop and starts the process of pressing a fork down against where the crusts meet to seal it down.]

Oven ready?

[That he sounds normal is a minor miracle, and he turns with the pie in his hands.]

[reconstitution]

[ He watches Steve finish up the pie, glancing to the oven. ]

It looks to be.

[ When Steve is finished, he picks up the pie delicately and scoots it into the oven with his left hand. ]

How long does it need?

[ How long do they have to wait there, awkwardly making small talk? Should he leave and come back? Let he and Jim catch up? ]

[redactions]

Twenty minutes first, then we reduce the heat and wait until the crust is golden. You'll know by the smell.

[ He eyes the oven, and stretches. ]

Maybe the next planet will have some apples too, and we can get a better kitchen at the end of the month.

[enshields]

[Steve takes a seat at the table, managing to look more-or-less at ease.]

Got a deck of cards?

[redactions]

He does.

[ He nods to Winter. ]

Wanna play a game, while we wait? You can do more with three people. Hey, we should ask Carter or Romanoff if they want to join us for poker sometime.

[reconstitution]

[ He jerks his head toward Jim, nodding in reply. ]

We haven't in a while.

[ It would be nice to play something that didn't involve just he and Jim. He disappears from the kitchen to go retrieve the deck of cards from his spot in the cargo bay.

Winter sneaks back in and hands them to Jim. ]

[redactions]

[ Not really sneaking if they're both watching the door out of habit, but Jim shuffles the cards, quickly. ]

So, what can we do with three people?

[reconstitution]

Poker was the only other game you showed me.

[ Unless Jim did and he lost track of it.. God, he hopes not. ]

[redactions]

I've been remiss in your education. C'mon. Blackjack.

[enshields]

[Steve just raises an eyebrow and then, mildly,]

Go Fish is always a classic.

[reconstitution]

[ Winter looks between them and shrugs a shoulder. ]

Whichever you think is best.

[redactions]

No, you pick.

[reconstitution]

[ Fuck. Why do you do this, Jim? ]

Blackjack?

[enshields]

Sure. I'll be the house.

[He gestures for the cards, all the better to let Jim teach him.]

[redactions]

[ He hands them over. ]

This is real simple. He deals, we compete with him. We gotta be higher than his without going over 21. Aces count for fourteen or one, depending on how you wanna play. Two cards to start with, you can ask for more until you get 21 or somethin' close to it. You go over, you're done.

Got it?

[enshields]

[He shuffles with only the slightest bit of dexterous flair. Cards were always a big hit with the Commandos, and though he rarely played with them (mostly due to his rank) he sat in on a lot of hands. And he's always been surprisingly good at gambling. In demonstration, he deals out the appropriate number of cards, flips his.]

[reconstitution]

It sounds simple enough, yes.

[ Now all that's left to see is how well he does at it.

He watches Steve deal the cards with a flourish, and it feels almost nostalgic. Something they may have done a long time ago, but the memory has faded like sand through his fingers. ]

[redactions]

[ He waves at Steve, lazily. ]

Hit.

[ His cards add up to nine. Just great. ]

[enshields]

[House cards are sitting at nineteen. It's a hard hand to beat, and Steve nods in approval of the choice as he deals out a card. It's a seven, which-- complicates things.]