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It started with Steve and Bucky going grocery shopping. They rode the subway for five stops then walked a few blocks. (Because Bucky straight-up resisted and protested when Tony suggested he should learn how to drive, and Steve was too scared to hurt his pride. And others’ lives.)
Steve started to fumble with the trolleys at the entrance of the mall. After a while Bucky didn’t give a fuck anymore and he tore off the trolley from the iron chain with his metal arm. Steve hissed and said they’ll have to pay for that. Bucky, expressing his curiosity, formed the question “To whom?” ‒ to which Steve couldn’t come up with a satisfying answer.
Steve took a glance at the shopping list which, by the way, was entirely his obsession. People were passing them by on their left and right, giving them grumpy looks and grumbles and sighs, as they, kindly enough, managed to park their trolley in the middle of the path.
“Pickles,” Steve said and looked at Bucky.
Bucky nodded.
“Pickles,” Steve repeated. “Why the hell do we need pickles?”
“I read a recipe. I’ll need pickles for that.”
“Are you sure it said pickles,” Steve seemed unsure, “not cucumber?”
Bucky looked honestly surprised and then he started to worry. “Is there a difference? Uhm, the recipe is some kind of salad, I think…”
“It’s probably cucumber,” a woman said while passing them by. “Cucumber salad with vinegar.”
She wasn’t paying attention to them anymore, she was already babbling to her baby with a big grin on her face, but Steve kindly thanked her anyway and pushed the trolley forward. Bucky followed.
As they reached the clothing section, Bucky stopped in front of a Captain America t-shirt. Although it was on sale, it was still pretty expensive for a t-shirt. Steve’s ways of denying Bucky’s wish were useless; he didn’t take no as an answer, he wanted to have it badly. Finally Steve agreed to buying it. Bucky promised him a Winter Soldier t-shirt in return. Steve was reconciled. Really.
“Butter, flour, yeast, cheese, corn, baking powder,” Steve listed. “And I want to cook something with meat tomorrow.”
“In that order, then,” Bucky said.
“You know butter’s beside cheese, right?”
“Doesn’t matter. In that order.”
“Well then. Butter.”
So they went around at least three times in the shop to get all the food on the list. Finally they were finished and went to choose a queue. From there, the cashier sent them to another one. Then Bucky decided the one on their right has less customers. Of course, he didn’t count on the old lady at the checkout who couldn’t calculate the price she would have to pay, and who is now incapable of deciding what not to buy. After around ten minutes of debating with herself (“Maybe the salad. Oh, but that’s Riley’s favorite. Then the oranges. No, no, Tommy loves them. The tomato…”), Steve got annoyed and, as kindly as possible, elbowed himself forward in the line.
“Hello, madam, let me help, madam.” Steve pointed at something random nervously. “Here, it’s the newspaper. I’ll get it back to its place, I’ll hurry. You just pay meanwhile, alright?”
The cashier looked at him with relief and gratitude, and Steve went back to the end of the queue.
“Congratulations,” Bucky whispered, “this was probably the first time Steve Rogers was impolite to someone. This is a milestone.”
“I wasn’t that impolite though, right?”
Bucky snuggled to Steve’s side, giggling, and they waited for the line to move.
“Madam, this amount is still more than the money you have,” the cashier said with a tired tone. “Pick something you’ll leave, please.”
Bucky’s head hit Steve’s shoulder and the whole queue sighed simultaneously. Half the people left their places and went to find a new line, including Steve and Bucky. After Steve got rid of the newspaper he was still holding, they started to examine their options.
“There’s a granny, forget that one,” Bucky said, pointing to a queue.
“Don’t call her granny. Oh, the people in this one are buying too many things.”
“There are too many kids in that other one.”
“What about that over there? It’s not short but they don’t have too much stuff. And it’s full of young people.”
“The winner is line 5, then. Let’s go.”
This queue was moving 2 inches per minute on average. The other ones were slower indeed, exactly as they figured.
When they were finally rolling the trolley out of the mall, Bucky was relieved. “Now that we’re done with that, can we finally go cook something?”
Steve smiled at him. “Of course.”
Bucky got a kiss on his lips.
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