Evan and Ronon looked sheepish as they sat across from John, waiting to be reprimanded.

“Aiden said he found you guys in the meat walk-in.”

“Sir –“ Evan began.

“Well –“ Ronon challenged.

“I don’t wanna hear it.” John growled, trying to fight back laughter. He let both of them stew a bit longer before letting out a very unprofessional giggle.

“Why would I, of all people, care that you were caught making out? Just don’t let it interfere with your job. Can you do that?”

Both of them nodded.

“Good. Now get back to work.”

“Yes, sir.” Evan beamed.

“I don’t mind carrots, or onions or even parsnips, but why do we have to plant so darn many cabbages?” Steve Rogers asks unenthusiastically as he dribbles seeds into the tilled soil.

“Cabbages are good, Stevie. And potatoes--can’t have a proper garden without potatoes!“ Being of Irish descent, Bucky Barnes has strong views about root vegetables. He straightens up from the row of seeds he’s been sowing. Little by little, the plot is coming along. It isn’t huge, but it’ll help feed the two of them.

“What’s next?” Steve looks around their little Victory garden impatiently, clearly wanting to be done with the process, ready to pick their produce and eat it. ”What about the tomatoes? We’ve got all those seedlings you started--”

“Yeah, but it’s better to plant seedlings later in the day when they’re not going to get scorched and dried-out. Relax, will ya?”

Even though their climate didn’t allow for early cultivation (December wasn’t exacting spring planting season), he’d started seedlings in window boxes. The little patch behind the ramshackle house they’re renting took ages to clear. Previous tenants, uncaring, cultivated a trash-heap of rusty bedsprings, broken bottles and sodden newspapers. During the winter and early spring, Bucky made the time to haul away the junk and dig up the weeds.

“Hey, at least here we don’t have my ma yelling out the back window for us to get to work,” Bucky points out. “And it’s not that big, really.”

His ma’s garden was a simple matter of economics, not patriotism, what with four kids and all. He and Steve aren’t exactly rolling in dough, so growing some of their own food makes sense. Not to mention Steve doesn’t take proper care of himself--fresh produce is good for him, but he’d rather buy a bagful of day-old donuts than a few pieces of fruit.

“I guess not. So, what’s next?” That’s one of Steve’s good points--despite his small stature and poor health, he’ll keep going until the work is done--as long as he doesn’t pass out from the heat, which isn’t likely to happen on this languid April day.

“Something especially for you, pal. We’re gonna plant a ton of it to build you up--spinach!” Bucky shoots him a gleeful grin. Steve always groans and rolls his eyes when the popular cartoons show at the movies, which is good ammunition to tease him with. Bucky warbles the ‘Popeye’ theme song, “’I’m stong to the finish, ‘cause I eats me spinach, I’m Popeye the Sailor Man!’.”

…

Edited at 2018-06-11 08:52 pm (UTC)

"What is this?" Danny asked.

"What?" Steve asked innocently.

"What the hell is this?" Danny asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What. The hell. Is this, this, this abomination doing on my pizza?" Danny asked angrily.

"What? Pineapple on pizza is Hawaiian. We are, in case you had forgotten, in Hawaii," said Steve.

"Pineapple on pizza is an abomination against taste and I will not have it in my house," Danny retorted.

"Chill out, Dad," Grace piped up, "it's tasty!"

"Thank you, Gracie," Steve acknowledged.

"You're grounded," said Danny. "And you are on thin ice. And I'm gonna order another pizza."

Steve likes to go grocery shopping in the middle of the night, because it’s quieter. Grocery shopping took up a whole morning back when - going to the greengrocer, butcher, baker, deli. He holding Mom’s shopping baskets and resisting the urge to pilfer something that might not be missed, to fill his always-rumbling stomach.

Now everything - and more - is under one roof, in shining glass cases, with gleaming linoleum floors and bright fluorescent lighting.

Steve pushes his cart along the aisles in the fresh produce section, looking for things that are familiar and missing the best cook in the world - Mom.

“Try this.” Evan held out a forkful of the orange-and-pastry concoction, waggled it.

Ronon eyed it. “What is it?”

“Peach cobbler,” Evan said. “Coffee-free.”

Everyone loved Evan’s tiramisu, but Ronon hated it. Like he hated coffee.

“Peach cobbler?” Rodney asked.

“Citrus-free too,” Evan said.

Rodney scooped up another fork and dug in. Evan rolled his eyes.

“You’re welcome, Rodney.” To Ronon he said, “Better try some before it’s gone.”

Ronon did. He elbowed Rodney aside and scooped up more.

“You could try it with ice cream,” Evan said.

Ronon and Rodney set their forks on the empty plate.

“Or not.”

There were extra packets of freeze-dried vegetable chips lying in a basket on the far corner of the receptionist's desk. They were meant for people taking long missions into deep space and really, Duo had no expectations regarding upcoming travel in space any further than between the Colonies, but they were there. ...They were free.

...Since the man at the desk had stepped around the corner, no one would even notice if he grabbed one. Or two. Or the whole basket of them as long as he could manage to put the basket back once it was emptied.
He didn't strictly need these vegetable chips- honestly, they weren't even any that he liked that much. There were beet chips and cherimoya and some other kind Duo couldn't identify, but he didn't have any time for reading packaging now if he wanted to get this into his bag without attracting attention or squishing anything badly. Sure, if the chips got too crunched up he could pour them onto some piece of fish and use them like panko crumbs...

Quick! Duo reached across the desk to return the just-emptied basket.

He was caught red-handed. "Your backpack is like chipmunk cheeks, Mr. Maxwell."

“Are you kidding me with this right now?” Danny scowled. “We’ve got three big orders to fill and you…you…”

Steve held up his creation, looking infinitely pleased with himself. “I made the molds myself.”

“Please tell me you didn’t use my Nana’s pastry recipe,” Danny moaned, though he could see very well that Steve had done just that. Nana’s flaky pastry and Danny’s special custard filling inside that abomination.

Steve had obviously mentally regressed to adolescence when Danny wasn’t looking.

“We are not selling penis pastries.”

Steve pulled out an order form. “We sure are.”

How was this his life?

“I don’t know what I’ve done wrong,” Wes wailed, “I followed the instructions.”

Lucas looked at the recipe, which had become rather smeared from where Wes had handled it with cake mix covered fingers. He scraped at one congealing mess and asked, “How many eggs did you put in?”

“Four.”

“I thought that might be the case. It should have been two.”

“What am I going to do? Dad’s cake will be ruined.”

“We’ll double up all the other ingredients and he’ll get two cakes for the price of one. After all, there’s no such thing as too much cake.”

“No, you slice it like this,” Tony insisted.

Stephen, magic buzzing between his fingertips because his hands weren’t steady enough with a kitchen knife, shook his head. “You’ve never cooked a day in your life and you know it. Put the knife down.”

Tony said, “Make me.”

Peter, standing at the kitchen counter and shoveling ramen into his mouth, looked back and forth between them like they were a tennis match. He was keeping score.

Stephen was pretty sure that for Peter, Tony always won. “Hey. Where did you get that food?”

“Microwaved it,” Peter said.

Stephen said, “Show me.”

John was going to have to change his mealtimes. It was the only way he’d ever be able to eat without getting a hard-on. Of all the ramifications he’d considered before giving in to his own desires and sleeping with Rodney, he hadn’t counted on food.

“Oh my god,” Rodney moaned. “Have you tried this?”

Rodney made another pleasure sound and John’s hips twitched. The man made the same noises over food as he had naked in John’s bed last night; it wasn’t particularly flattering to be put on the same level as a double chocolate brownie.

“Are you well?” Teyla asked, brow furrowed in concern. “You are quite flushed.”

John wanted to leave but he was afraid if he stood up everyone would be able to tell how turned on he was. Although from the speculative look Rodney was giving him it was probably already too late.

“Maybe you need to go back to bed,” Rodney suggested. He attempted to waggle his eyebrows but only succeeded in looking confused.

“Um.”

Rodney licked chocolate off his thumb, eyes on John the whole time. The bastard. And was that Rodney’s foot rubbing against his leg? Well, two could play at that game.

“I ever tell you what I got my Master’s degree in?” John asked conversationally.

Aidan exchanged a look with Teyla. “Sir?”

“Combinatorics. I was at the top of my class.”

Rodney froze, thumb still in his mouth. He pulled it free with a pop. “What?”

“What is combinatorics?” Teyla asked.

“We have to go,” Rodney said abruptly, abandoning the remains of his lunch. “Major. We have that thing. Remember?”

Teyla looked between the two of the, brow furrowed, and then she nodded, lips twitching up in a grin. “I see.”

“You need any help?” Aiden asked helpfully.

Rodney shot him an incredulous look. “If you think I –”

“Let’s go, McKay.”

John grabbed hold of Rodney’s elbow and propelled him out of the Mess, conveniently using him as a shield to hide his very obvious erection. After listening to Rodney eat John was pretty sure he could cut glass with the damn thing.

As soon as they were in the transporter John pushed Rodney against the wall and kissed him, hips grinding. “Your fucking mouth,” he rasped, laying a line of wet kisses along Rodney’s jaw.

“Yes!” Rodney panted eagerly. “Let’s do that!”

They never made it to dinner.

“Music isn’t food. You can’t eat food,” Ronon said.

Miko, who was reading aloud, sighed. “It’s a metaphor. You’re a poet.”

“I thought the food of love was chocolate.” Ronon had asked Miko for help finding a Valentine’s gift for Lorne.

“Unless, like Dr. Naoe, you’re allergic to chocolate.”

Miko closed her book. “What else does Lorne like?”

“Running. Painting. Sex.” Ronon perked up. “Earthers like to have sex involving food, right?”

Miko blushed. “Some.”

“What kind of food do you think Evan would like?”

“Whipped cream is popular. Chocolate sauce. Honey?”

“Dr. Peace in botany has honeybees. Thanks, Miko!”

“What time is it?” John groaned, as the bed dipped and he received a sharp elbow in his side. He opened his eyes to see Sherlock bearing a tray. “What are you doing?”

“It’s traditional to give one’s loved one breakfast in bed on their birthday,” Sherlock replied.

“It’s also traditional to let them sleep in until a decent hour.”

“If I’d done that your boiled egg and toast soldiers would be cold.”

Reluctantly John sat up. The egg looked acceptable, but he was surprised when he saw the toast. “How?” he muttered.

“I borrowed Mrs Hudson’s gingerbread man cutter.”