cap. || steve rogers one-shots

cookies.

summary: after steve is pulled out of the ice, you are assigned to acclimatize him to the 21st century... and one day, he tries to bake. 

word count: 1185

trigger warnings: none.

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"(Y/N)?" you heard Steve's unsure voice call from the kitchen. "How do I work the-- uh-- micro-thing?"

You let out a groan of frustration and resisted the urge to slam your head against the table. "Hold on just a minute, Steve! And for the record, it's called a microwave."

When you had been assigned to be Captain America's official "21st century tour guide", you had no idea what you were getting yourself in to. The Captain, for all of his good assets, was utterly clueless when it came to simple everyday things. You tried to keep in mind that he'd never seen an iPhone before (or a YouPhone, as he called it on many occasions), and that the microwave was invented a few years after he was put in ice, but you were growing rather frustrated.

When you and Steve had first met, you'd tried to be polite and cordial, throwing in a few "yes sirs" and "Captains" to make him feel at ease, but that had quickly ended when you found out how incompetent he was. Now, five months into Steve's time as a man of the 2000's, it was all you could do to not call him a giant fucking meatball ass-hat every time he screwed up. 

That was another thing. Steve had been appalled when the first thing you said when you met him was, "It's about god damn time, Fury. I've been waiting, what, three fucking hours now?" To this day he still didn't understand why you took so much pleasure in saying the filthiest, most sarcastic thing you could thing of, but he'd slowly grown used to it. He'd also grown used to you threatening to sock him every time he called you "Ma'am" or "Agent (L/N)".

It had taken some time, but you and Steve were now entered into an uneasy alliance. You both lived in the Stark Tower, so it was rather easy to avoid each other unless it was absolutely necessary. It wasn't that you disliked the Captain, per se, you just missed the time in your life when you could sit and draw out plans for a mission without a super-soldier poking his head into your room and asking you ridiculous questions. ("Why the hell would they move Central Park, Cap? Of course it's still in the same place!")

"(Y/N)? Something's burning. I would really appreciate it if you could--"

Steve's voice was cut off by the shrill sound of the fire alarm going off, and you jumped to your feet quickly. You tried to cover your head to protect yourself from the harsh, cold droplets of water now falling from the ceiling, but it was no use. You were drenched within seconds. You silently cursed Steve, for existing, and Tony, for not telling you the codes to override Jarvis' controls, as you made your way into the kitchen. 

It was a complete and utter mess. There was flour all over the floor (and in Steve's hair), smoke pouring out of the microwave, and something that looked like chocolate was splattered across the wall...

"Steve," you tried to keep your voice cool. You'd never blown up at Steve before, not really, but you felt like you were close. "What the actual hell happened in here?"

Steve blushed profusely and ran a hand through his now-wet hair. "I was trying to make some cookies, y'know? So I found this recipe on the-- uh-- net, and it said to put the cookies in the microwave oven for--"

You immediately realized what had happened, and you threw your hands up in the air, completely giving up on your hair, and began laughing. The situation was so ridiculous, when you thought about it. The Captain America, the super-soldier frozen in a block of ice for seventy years, couldn't make a fucking batch of cookies. He'd fought in Nazi Germany, taken out Red Skull himself, sacrificed his life, yet he didn't know the difference between a microwave and an oven. And now, he was standing in front of you, soaking wet, with flour in his hair and a smudge of chocolate on his cheek.

"Oh, honey," you let out another peal of laughter as Steve stared at you, shocked by the pet name. "You're supposed to put them in oven, not the microwave. That's why they exploded-- hey, why were you baking, anyway?"

Steve now looked uncomfortable, but you refused to back down. He eventually sighed and leaned up against the counter, nearly sticking his elbow into a bowl of watery chocolate.

"I was-- uh-- trying to surprise you," Steve flushed and cleared his throat awkwardly. "You've put up with me for so long now, I figured it was time I showed my appreciation."

You moved towards Steve and rested your hand gently on his arm. "Thank you for the gesture, Steve. Just promise me one thing, alright? You'll never, ever try to use the kitchen without adult supervision, alright?" You nudged him playfully. 

As you watched Steve stammer and blush, something clicked inside of you. Suddenly, he was no longer the annoying puppy dog super-soldier, but a man, confused and trying to adjust to live after being practically dead for seventy years. Your heart went out to him, and you regretted all of the times you'd complained and insulted him. Steve was trying his best, given the circumstances. 

"Steve, listen, I'm sorry if I've been a little bit of a bitch--" you rolled your eyes at the face Steve made. "--jerk, these past few months. I shouldn't have taken out my frustration on you."

Steve smiled at you brightly. "It's alright, (Y/N). I know I haven't been the easiest person to put up with."

You smiled softly at Steve, and suddenly, your faces were mere inches apart. Your breath hitched, and it was all you could do to not lean forward and close the distance between Steve and you. Then, Steve's eyes fluttered shut, and his lips were against yours--

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, I leave you kids alone for what, a few hours? And I come home to find you going at it in my kitchen! Which, I might add, is completely destroyed. And why haven't you turned off the sprinklers? JARVIS, shut them off." Tony said. 

In a matter of seconds, the sprinkler system was shut off, and you and Steve were left--arms wrapped around each other-- to face Tony. He was looking back at you two gleefully, surely thinking of a million ways to embarrass you with what he'd just witnessed.

"Um, rain check on this, alright?" you laughed at your own joke as you gestured between you and Steve. "I'll see you later."

You turned on your heel, flicked your sopping wet hair over your shoulder, and brushed against Tony as you left the kitchen. "Not a word, Stark. You hear me?" you hissed quietly, low enough that Steve couldn't hear. 

"Oh, sweetheart, you know that's not my style." Tony smirked.

You groaned, but then you caught Steve's eye. Maybe, few dozen jokes would be worth it, if you got to feel those lips against yours again.