[ amused: ] How'd you know? Shit, am I that predictable?
[ he's returned to the kitchen, standing behind her and waiting for the fridge door to close so he can squeeze past (say this for the studio apartment, it isn't large). but it means he pauses to watch the way yelena is leaning into the refrigerator, her head ducked at a low angle, long blonde hair spilling over one shoulder. the nape of her neck exposed, the throat of his shirt hanging loose on her. a hypothetical: from this angle, once she straightens back up to her not-too-considerable height, it would be the easiest thing to step into her, wrap his arms around her from behind, and press a kiss to that strip of bare skin at the curve of her neck.
(goddamnit, barnes—)
he's so unaccustomed to dealing with this side of himself, having been shut off and dormant and packed away for so long. james smothers it again, waits for safe passage, and then squeezes past to go rummaging through the cabinets. it's just a can of instant coffee powder, similar enough to what he'd drunk during the war. you'd think that might lead to a lifetime of avoiding it, but he just can't bring himself to spend so much money on artisanal beans or what-the-fuck-ever. luxurious breakfasts haven't been a thing here. the apartment is barebones in more ways than one. maybe she'll inspire him to live a little this way, too. ]
So how do you take yours? And what's your favourite breakfast? If, y'know, you could choose anything in the world and my cupboards weren't a barren wasteland.
no subject
[ he's returned to the kitchen, standing behind her and waiting for the fridge door to close so he can squeeze past (say this for the studio apartment, it isn't large). but it means he pauses to watch the way yelena is leaning into the refrigerator, her head ducked at a low angle, long blonde hair spilling over one shoulder. the nape of her neck exposed, the throat of his shirt hanging loose on her. a hypothetical: from this angle, once she straightens back up to her not-too-considerable height, it would be the easiest thing to step into her, wrap his arms around her from behind, and press a kiss to that strip of bare skin at the curve of her neck.
(goddamnit, barnes—)
he's so unaccustomed to dealing with this side of himself, having been shut off and dormant and packed away for so long. james smothers it again, waits for safe passage, and then squeezes past to go rummaging through the cabinets. it's just a can of instant coffee powder, similar enough to what he'd drunk during the war. you'd think that might lead to a lifetime of avoiding it, but he just can't bring himself to spend so much money on artisanal beans or what-the-fuck-ever. luxurious breakfasts haven't been a thing here. the apartment is barebones in more ways than one. maybe she'll inspire him to live a little this way, too. ]
So how do you take yours? And what's your favourite breakfast? If, y'know, you could choose anything in the world and my cupboards weren't a barren wasteland.