No. Not at all. [ she really, genuinely means that. ] I just feel like it is such an old man preference that I had to get that right. And because you are a super soldier, too, you're going to need all the caffeine you can get, no?
[ and yes, she is fully aware that he is standing behind her, but she pays him no mind since she assumes he's just looking over her shoulder to peek into his fridge. shouldn't he already know what's in it? well, that's not really a fair assumption for her to make because she hardly remembers what's in hers by the time she gets back home.
yelena nudges the fridge shut with her knee, an almost empty carton of milk in one hand and eggs in the other. she sets them both down next to the stove and leans against the counter, watching him maneuver around the kitchen. the way he does it isn't like those awkward situations in the movies she's seen; the ones where they don't know how to come to terms with the fact that they just slept together, and yadda yadda. the difference is that she and bucky just seamlessly stepped into such a domestic setting that she almost loses herself in the idea of it. the idea of waking up next to him every morning, basking in the warmth of one another and then him making breakfast for her—
she snaps out of it when he asks her a barrage of questions. (well, two but she's rather dramatic. her imagination was getting a little out of hand there and that was scary.) ]
Some milk and a spoonful of sugar. I mostly drink coffee for the taste, and not for the effect... Hm. My favourite breakfast? Why? Are you gonna make it for me? [ cue that shit-eating grin of hers, along with the wiggle of her brows. ] I like eggs benedict. Alternatively, I also like waffles and fried chicken. What about you?
no subject
[ and yes, she is fully aware that he is standing behind her, but she pays him no mind since she assumes he's just looking over her shoulder to peek into his fridge. shouldn't he already know what's in it? well, that's not really a fair assumption for her to make because she hardly remembers what's in hers by the time she gets back home.
yelena nudges the fridge shut with her knee, an almost empty carton of milk in one hand and eggs in the other. she sets them both down next to the stove and leans against the counter, watching him maneuver around the kitchen. the way he does it isn't like those awkward situations in the movies she's seen; the ones where they don't know how to come to terms with the fact that they just slept together, and yadda yadda. the difference is that she and bucky just seamlessly stepped into such a domestic setting that she almost loses herself in the idea of it. the idea of waking up next to him every morning, basking in the warmth of one another and then him making breakfast for her—
she snaps out of it when he asks her a barrage of questions. (well, two but she's rather dramatic. her imagination was getting a little out of hand there and that was scary.) ]
Some milk and a spoonful of sugar. I mostly drink coffee for the taste, and not for the effect... Hm. My favourite breakfast? Why? Are you gonna make it for me? [ cue that shit-eating grin of hers, along with the wiggle of her brows. ] I like eggs benedict. Alternatively, I also like waffles and fried chicken. What about you?