steve's luck with things that fly is nonexistent, really.

[enshields]

Who: Crew of the Bloodsport, anyone who'd drop by!
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Anywhere on the ship.
When: 12/13/15 specifically, but you can really pick and choose as much as you would like as far as dates go. Get your mingle on!

ps: as an aside, the bit of media that Steve received was a 'Star-Spangled Man' USO performance so if anyone wants to have seen that so hilarity can ensue, feel free.

Comments

SUNDAY;

[enshields]

[Last time he had enough people under his roof to warrant cooking for a pack of them was back when his Ma was still alive, and Bucky would spend days (work allowing) crashing at his place. Steve had always been so desperate to contribute in any way worth the value of what he was given, it was the least he could do. Sunday dinner was never quite a tradition-- Ma and Buck both pulled too many double shifts, food would've gone cold on the table if he'd tried, but he learned young and real quick how to pull together a good meal from next to nothing out of fish on the verge of turning and a few wrinkled-up potatoes.

The 21^st century introduced him to spices beyond salt and pepper, even if he'd about choked first time he saw the cost of saffron. And the cooking channel was a good way to while away the hours when it was his third straight night awake. Restaurant food still tasted weird to him. Too much sugar in the bread, too much salt and fat in everything else. So mostly, he cooked for himself. Multiplying the portion sizes relative to the crew wasn't hard.

Sunday rolls around, and he's had the benefit of spending a few days rustling up ingredients. What he whips up (somewhat precariously in the small space) is a tuna casserole. When it's finished, he'll call the crew in over the intercom. There's no real expectation folks'll want to eat in a group, and Steve hasn't been one for saying grace in years, so it's mostly a call to serve yourself and do whatever you'd like afterwards.

People can also drop in to help with PREP or CLEAN-UP just toss a header in! Tag around, have fun, etc.]

SUNDAY; CLEAN-UP

[reconstitution]

[ It's really only coincidence that he happens to even be on the Bloodsport today of all days. His real mission is hunting down Robin, though he seems to do a bang-up job of hiding on his own ship. ..Though Winter can't say much about it since he is just as bad.

He has no idea that Steve is even on the ship, let alone an actual crew member. As luck would have it, he's entirely missed the announcement over the intercom. He can hear someone tinkering in a room nearby, echoing down the halls.

Of course he has to investigate by peering in, and wouldn't you know it? It's Steve. He's not completely opposed to seeing him, it just feels strange. Winter is less stressed out knowing that he doesn't care if memories never come back, though there is that small veil of expectation. Regardless of whether or not it's actually there, he feels like it is a tangible thing. The only thing that's left to do is grin and bear it.

He absolutely will stand in the doorway completely silent until Steve does take notice of him. Only because he's running through his mind just what to say. ]

[enshields]

[There's an absence of air in the doorway, Steve tips his head to acknowledge it. There aren't many people alive that silent, and of them he knows only one that wouldn't have spoken to announce their presence. He reaches for a towel off the rack, dries his hands and slings it over his shoulder as he turns.]

Hey.

[He offers a slight smile, but it's muted compared to the sincerity of the warmth he always feels around Buck.]

You know-- I never did ask what you want to be called.

[reconstitution]

[ He knows full well that Steve will notice his presence and probably react when he wants to. He isn't disappointed when he finishes what he's doing and turns to look at him. He nods in return, moving fully into the kitchen, though he keeps a few feet of distance between them. ]

..Hey.

[ He frowns, but takes the time to actually consider it. ]

They've been calling me Winter. Since I didn't know..

SUNDAY; PREP

[mikangirl]

[In reality, she only comes into the kitchen to wash up a couple of glasses. Seeing Steve in there pulls her up short and she leans against the doorway, glass rims caught in her fingers.]

I see you weren't kidding. What's on the menu?

[enshields]

[He's covered in flour up to elbows, so he nods at her instead of any sort of hand gesture.]

I was thinkin' tuna casserole. Ingredients don't have to be fresh to taste good. I'm not using the sink, you go ahead.

[mikangirl]

Sounds better than our usual gel fare. [She moves to the sink to wash up, but peers at what he's doing. Tuna has always been well liked on her crew.]

You need a hand? I mean, I'm only washing dishes because I've run out of things to do.

SUNDAY; prep

[tothefly]

Need a hand with anything?

[She doesn't bother with things like greetings, or even a cleared throat to let him know she's there. They've been partners long enough he should know better, friends long enough he should expact nothing less.]

[enshields]

[He gives her a considering look over his shoulder. A pause, and then,]

How do'you feel ahout biscuits?

EATING

[bb_wolf]

[The moment the smell of food starts to waft through the ship, Bigby appears. The promise of something real to eat, not just the shitty gel cubes he's been forcing down to silence his hunger is beyond tempting.]

You have to tell me that's for sharing. I haven't had real food since I got to this place.

[enshields]

[The phrasing might make his hackles go up, but he gets the sentiment well enough and nods to where the casserole is cooling. He's reading a dog-eared book that looks like it's suffered a bit of flouring and hasn't yet eaten.]

There's enough to go around. Help yourself.

[bb_wolf]

[Bigby's good at doing that to people, even when he doesn't mean to.]

You are clearly a blessing for something that I definitely didn't do. Must've been someone else on the ship.

[He starts looking for bowls and something to serve with.]

Am I getting you a bowl while I'm here?

[mucked]

[ -- she doesn't come on sunday. why should she? it's not her place -- not her ship -- and not her crew. but she does arrive, not-so-entirely by happenstance a few days later. she's looking for him, because she has questions that require answers. peggy has uncertainties that need quelling. she's talked most of them through with jim during some preliminary reveal of what the future holds for her -- and now, after days of digesting that knowledge, she's prepared to talk to captain rogers about all of it.

or (at least) some of it.

first, she goes looking for him on the bridge. somehow, she can't help but expect him to be there. ]

[enshields]

[He comes out from under one of the computing panels when he hears the footsteps. Have one (1) supersoldier that's smudged with oil and grease and looks like he's been crawling around in engine compartments that are woefully too small for most of the day.

(Spoiler: he has been.)

When he sees her she gets an honest smile and he pulls a rag out of his back pocket to begin the (arduous) process of wiping off his hands.]

Ma'am. What can I do for you?

scoots in late, don't mind me

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[the day of the week may not hold any particular significance for Robin, but there's a lot of cultural and situational implications to be pulled from shared, home-cooked meals. the offer over the intercom comes as a surprise partly because of that, and partly because he'd pegged Steve as the kind of guy who'd only be a team player as much as he had to.

yeah, maybe he's reading too much into it, but it gets him out of the engine room and into the kitchen anyway. he stops in the doorway to look (and smell), still half-attentively scrubbing grease and oil off of his fingers with a rag.]

...You cook, too. [tone: dry.] Please tell me there's something you're bad at.

wizards arrive precisely when they mean to etc etc.

[enshields]

[At the question, Steve is applying similar ministrations to his own hands, albeit to rid them of flour - and turns to face Robin more fully. He's definitely chewing on a biscuit, which he swallows before he speaks,]

My falsetto's terrible.

[His tone is mild and by all accounts utterly deadpan. The only real show of humour is notable in the crinkle around his eyes.]

clean-up.

[redactions]

[ He's sure to come by, after. After, when the people are gone and there's just leftovers and a pile of dishes they work through, in silence. It's not that he has nothing to say, but he talks for the sake of the Winter Soldier, not for himself. There's no need to fill anything up between him and Steve except the ache of missing years, and that heals on its own, with time. ]

How was dinner?

[enshields]

[They stand shoulder to shoulder. It's like old times, and Steve can almost close his eyes and feel it-- Buck outweighing him by fifty pounds and a full head, the faint refrains of Billie Holiday drifting in from the radio. The air smells like apple pie and his mother's soap and something rolling in off the East River like a dead thing. It's a comfort.

But equally an illusion. It only lasts a moment, and then he's back in a small, airless ship with close walls and no way back to a world that's less a home than the man beside him and Margaret Carter.]

Nobody threatened to keelhaul the chef, so-- I guess that's a step in the right direction.

[Bucky knows as well as he does, sharing food is something that goes deeper than courtesy. It's the beginning and end of every tie of family and friendship, an expression of affection and care. His new shipmates aren't family, but his heart - rusty though it is at the act - yet has room.]

[pompous_today]

[The smell of food attracted Simon away from his studies of the plants and drugs he'd collected over the months in his clinic, and when Steve called the crew to dinner, he decided to pull himself away and be sociable for once. Poking his head into the kitchen, he smiled at Steve.]

Thank you for cooking.

[enshields]

[He's been Peripherally Aware of the good doctor for a while now, but this is their first proper meeting, so Steve ducks his head in a nod and tips his hand towards a chair.]

You're welcome. You probably already know, but I'm Steve Rogers. One of the pilots.

A wild Winter appears!!

[reconstitution]

[ In all honesty, he's cashing in a favor from Robin, wandering the ship in search of him. He's got a book in hand, and all he wants is a peaceful place to sit and read. That, and Robin seems pretty okay.

Definitely feel free to approach him! ..Whether he wants you to or not. ]

[mikangirl]

[Nami's up on the bridge attempting to study charts and give herself a headache in the process. There's a vast difference in mechanics between these and the ones she's used to.

The appearance of a complete stranger in the doorway is kind of a welcome break. She glances up and gives him a faint smile.]

Looking for anyone in particular, or just sightseeing?

[reconstitution]

[ He really doesn't want to interrupt if she's busy, but he glances around the bridge, but stays where he is. ]

I'm looking for Robin? He doesn't know I'm here.

[ He doesn't have his personal number, and it felt weird broadcasting something unnecessary like that. ]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[honestly, he wouldn't have been surprised if their meeting on the Marsiva had been part of the dream-rooms too--it was such a surreal time for him, and in the aftermath, it was proving hard to remember fact and fiction. maybe that's why he looks surprised to see the man wandering through his ship, at least until a smile spreads over his face.

he'd gotten used to being social and clever and enthusiastic again, but he peels that self away with an easy wave.]

Hey, friend. Looking for a place?

[reconstitution]

If it's still okay.

[ He holds up the borrowed book he has, Strangers on a Train. ]

You can take it after I'm done if you want to read it?

[ Really, he just wants a calm place to finish where he doesn't feel like he's crawling out of his own skin. The break away from his own freezing ship will do him a little good. ]