#bakinghistory

@bakinghistory​ inquired: 🍳 - cooking together (for lill!)

     She giggled as he stepped behind her, reached around her, and slid the pan with the hot oil from the burner that was still on to one that had been turned off a while ago. “Calm down,” she chided him. “I was about to get to that. How about you keep your attention on that side of the kitchen,” she pointed across the way to her microwave oven, grinning at him over her shoulder. “And I’ll keep my attention on the stove?”

     Reaching underneath his arm, she pulled the carton of eggs closer. “You are lucky the girls are at a sleepover, or we wouldn’t have this much time fucking around,” she chuckled, tapping eggs one by one and letting them slide into the pan, the yolk staying perfectly intact. “How do you like your eggs? Cooked? Fried?” She glanced across her shoulder again, arching an eyebrow. “Fertilized?”

But...it had just been a long day. He’d been rejected from two part time jobs, not counting the one where the manager wouldn’t even give him an application, and the floor of the subway station was about as cold as it got. He was tired of seeing people like him getting chewed up and spit out by the world, ending up dead, or lost to PTV, or just too hollowed-out to care anymore. If he could stop just one bad thing happening today, he might as well try.

He stood up from where he’d been sitting on his sleeping bag and approached the conversation. When he got closer he realized he’d misjudged the new guy’s age; He was small enough that he’d though he was still a teen, but he was probably closer to Walter’s age. It didn’t matter. He didn’t trust the man with the shiny shoes, not after the first time they’d met.

Walter put a protective hand on the young man’s shoulder, hoping it wouldn’t scare him. “Don’t go with him,” he said in a low, determined voice. “He lies.”

steve’s heart beat a little faster as he pulled into his boyfriend’s driveway.  sawyer had asked if he’d like to come over and help rake up all the fallen leaves in his yard, and even before he knew that sawyer planned on sweeting the deal with cookies and coco, steve jumped at the chance.  it was hard with sawyer’s job at the bakery and steve being a full-time college student who also had a part-time job at the university’s library, for them to get together like this.  sure, they made time for dinner dates and walks through the park when they could, but spending a whole day together was a rarity.   of course, since steve’s careful planner -- he also packed a duffle bag of all his overnight essentials just in case he’s asked to stay over.

there’s a chill in the air that hits him soon as he steps out of the car. luckily, he’s worn his tawny-brown plaid jacket, his woolen scarf, fingerless gloves, and a newsboy hat to keep from getting too cold as they work outside.  maybe he looks a little old-fashioned to some, but he’s always kind of dressed this way.  it seems to suit his personality.  

steve opens the back door to his car.  the duffle bag is laying on the seat, but he reaches for a bouquet of red roses he picked up from the florist instead.  he’ll leave his bag in here until (if) sawyer asks him to sleep over.

the sound of crunching leaves beneath his feet as he walks up to the door of sawyer’s perfectly quaint little house. he can’t wait until it’s halloween to come over here, maybe they could pass out candy to the trick-or-treaters and watch a scary movie together.  free hand goes to the doorbell and gives it a ring. steve steps back and waits.  he hopes he hasn’t overdone it with the flowers. sawyer always did so much for him, so he wants to do something nice in return.  when the door finally creaks open, steve’s face lights up with a smile, heart flutters, and he holds out the roses.  “hey, angel.”

It had been as close to a routine mission as any of his missions got. Intel on a terrorist cell working out of a small city in Virginia, planning a bioterror attack. He’d gone in alone, with back-up on call. Got through the lab easily; it was a small operation. Had the leader of the group at gunpoint, radioed for backup to secure the rest of the cell. And then one scientist had decided he preferred infection to facing justice.

After that, the whole room had gone faster than Leon could react, and one of the infected managed to get past his backup and out onto the street. It was a strain of the T-virus; he didn’t know which one. It wasn’t the most powerful virus on the market these days, but once infected got into an inhabited area, it spread like falling dominoes. He’d spent the hours since then alternating between evacuating survivors and just trying to survive, and he’d been on his way to the perimeter the BSAA had secured when he’d been almost overcome by a group of infected, forcing him to take the nearest cover he could find.

After catching his breath, he scans the shop, which turns out to be a bakery. It seems undamaged; he can still smell the cinnamon rolls. He hates seeing what these outbreaks can do to cities, to communities. The damage seems to spread so quickly, until what’s left inevitably ends up looking like a microcosm of Raccoon City. For the moment, though, at least this place is secure.

Just as he finishes the thought, he hears a small sound coming from the back of the shop. He draws his gun immediately, but keeps it pointed down. “Anybody back there? I’m a federal agent. I’m here to help.”

               an embarrassed chuckle falls from her lips as she sets the can on the nightstand.  as much as she wants to ask if she pinned him down and licked whipped cream off of him — she doesn’t. he looks embarrassed enough as it is.  her naked body dashes out of bed and grabs her silk robe to throw on.  she notices that he’s several inches shorter than her now that she’s standing next to him.  and he’s cute too.  “—i’m sorry for —if i ... ya know ... did anything weird to you last night?”  most of details are lost, but she does feel like they had a good time — at least she did.  

                “can i get you something to drink? coffee? i could really use some coffee — i have such a headache.”

             𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄,  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄.     it means he has changed from his overly cautious and well-behaved self to far more reckless;   willing to steal,  squat,  run from security guards and various other things in order to survive.     and then there’s alcohol…..   a COMFORT he indulges in when he can,  numbing pain and making him care even less,  as well as banish his perpetual nervousness.     it’s not a life he ever expected or wanted to live,  and part of him wishes he'd  n e v e r  been saved from the burning house.    the loneliness is one of the hardest things about this,  the way his kind are shunned and looked down upon by others who take their own lives for 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃.     therefore,  it’s nice to meet someone in the same boat as himself and not feel judged or condemned.

             despite being inside the subway,  he turns and gestures in one direction to walter’s question to indicate the LOCATION of his hideout.     ❝   …..there’s an empty building a couple of blocks away.     i can get into it from the fire escape.     there’s blankets,  insulation,  it’s quiet…..   ❞     he’s been staying there a week or so now,  and while he’s always  a f r a i d of being caught,  it feels safe there.     it feels 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 to offer that to another like himself,  especially after the man’s own display of generosity.     he’s glad when the offer is accepted, and follows the taller male to his own set-up.     the proffered sandwich is then happily taken with a murmur of thanks.     ❝   …..that’s okay,   ❞  sawyer adds when told of the filling,  and he doesn’t wait before opening the package and GOBBLING it down.

             then he starts off toward his hideout with a gesture to follow,  stopping at the nearest drinking fountain first.     after a few minutes of walking,  they’re away from the busy urban streets and crowds,  and he takes walter around the BACK of the building   —   seeming to be a former office building composed of two floors with a ladder around one side;   which the small brunet begins to carefully ascend.

Walter listens and nods as Sawyer explains where he’s been staying. A soft but warm, “okay,” is his only response. He gives a small smile when he sees how quickly Sawyer eats the sandwich. Obviously, the food was sorely needed. He’ll share the apples he has left once they get to Sawyer’s place.

Once he’s packed and Sawyer’s done eating, he follows along as Sawyer takes him to the empty building. He’s quiet, and pays attention to their surroundings more and more vigilantly the further they get from the business of the subway and the crowds of the cities main streets. Quiet and solitude is a relief, but sometimes there’s more safety in crowds. And he wants to make sure he remembers the route back to the subway.

He recognizes the building when they arrive. He’s seen it when he’s gone exploring around the city, something that he saves for brighter, warmer times of year. The door has a heavy padlock and chain, and a bright yellow “no trespassing” notice from the city, so he hadn’t thought there’s been a way in, but he’s never noticed the small alley that Sawyer turns down, taking them to the back of the building, and, yes, the ladder of the fire escape is down.

     “So. How would you like to make some extra money?”             Bucky asked, plopping down on Sawyer’s bed.

They’d agreed to meet up to do some mutually-beneficial studying, each of them forcing the other to stay focused. Of course, it never really worked, neither of them able to stop from bothering the other for too long. But Bucky had seen the flyer on his way over to Sawyer’s, and had ripped off the piece of paper with the contact info. The premise seemed simple enough, and Bucky could use an extra chunk of change with his sister’s birthday coming up.

     “All we gotta do is go sign up for this research study.         It’s one in-person visit, ten days of online surveys,         one more visit, and then boom! We each get $100.”

Bucky sprawled out on Sawyer’s bed for dramatic effect, heart thudding a little at what the study was on. It was a couples’ study- luckily one that did allow same-sex couples- on communication. Ergo, they were only taking pre-existing couples. Bucky wasn’t seeing anyone, though neither was Sawyer, and the researchers didn’t need to know that. But Bucky couldn’t totally ignore the twisting, fluttering feeling in his stomach when he thought of Sawyer and dating in the same context.

Being with Sawyer makes Peggy so much more playful; she’s become a more lighthearted person just because of him. It’s obvious when he makes a playful remark and Peggy tickles him in retaliation, setting off a chain reaction.