Dr. Robert "Bruce" Banner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
honeyibrokeharlem) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-10-21 01:48 pm
honeyibrokeharlem) wrote in thecapitol2014-10-21 01:48 pm
D3 / MCU Breakfast Mingle
Who| Bruce Banner, the whole MCU cast, open to people who live in D3 or would drop in on D3 during breakfast time
What| Bruce is a stress cooker. He made a lot of food during the night. Now everyone has to eat it. MCUers have gathered to help with this.
Where| D3 kitchen and dining area.
When| Early morning after the first night under curfew.
Warnings/Notes| Possibly discussion of past violence. Twitchy old people with tribbles.
Bruce doesn't do well when he feels trapped. He felt very trapped during the night and didn't have even a wink of sleep. So he kept himself busy with cooking.
And boy, does it show.
There is a ton of food, all over the counter and on the table. Some is still cooking in the oven or on the stove. There are familiar things, like crepes and popovers and pancakes and muffins and bacon, but there are also completely foreign things from other countries, primarily from Latin America, Northern Africa, the Middle East, and India. And to go with all of this are a ton of different spreads, some of which are clearly not even from the continental United States.
There is also, of course, hot coffee and cold juice to drink. Or tap water, if that's what you feel like.
Honestly, it looks like the weirdest breakfast buffet ever.
What| Bruce is a stress cooker. He made a lot of food during the night. Now everyone has to eat it. MCUers have gathered to help with this.
Where| D3 kitchen and dining area.
When| Early morning after the first night under curfew.
Warnings/Notes| Possibly discussion of past violence. Twitchy old people with tribbles.
Bruce doesn't do well when he feels trapped. He felt very trapped during the night and didn't have even a wink of sleep. So he kept himself busy with cooking.
And boy, does it show.
There is a ton of food, all over the counter and on the table. Some is still cooking in the oven or on the stove. There are familiar things, like crepes and popovers and pancakes and muffins and bacon, but there are also completely foreign things from other countries, primarily from Latin America, Northern Africa, the Middle East, and India. And to go with all of this are a ton of different spreads, some of which are clearly not even from the continental United States.
There is also, of course, hot coffee and cold juice to drink. Or tap water, if that's what you feel like.
Honestly, it looks like the weirdest breakfast buffet ever.
no subject
But a good kind of odd, he supposes. He appreciates the tribble, even if he'd prefer not to admit it.
"They're good for people with problems, yes." It's the most delicate way he can phrase 'they're good therapy pets for trauma victims.' He doesn't want to directly confront the fact that they're all messes in here, but he can indirectly imply it. "Do you think yours has been helpful at all?" His definitely has been.
Bruce appreciates Bucky's discretion. Tony or Natasha would be the only ones allowed to get away with needling him about that, and only one of them got away with it because Bruce had actual affection for him. "Thanks. If you find something you particularly like, I can show you how to make it. Most of this stuff is pretty easy, anyway."
no subject
It kept him sane in the long dark hours of the night, stopped him from doing anything stupid and lashing out.
He nods slowly, watching the tribble still. "Thank you." It's always nice to be asked if he wants to learn something rather than be told he must and Bucky considers if there's anything he has eaten today he would like to cook for himself. Everything really but especially... "Pancakes?"
no subject
Bruce takes a moment to watch the man play with his tribble. The little cooing thing shouldn't be as cute and relaxing as it is, but he has to admit that even the sound of someone else playing with one eases some of the tension in his shoulders. It must be something in the way they purr.
It definitely helped him out last night as well. Between that and obsessive working on projects and cooking, he managed to not break something overnight.
"Pancakes are easy. I could show you how to do that now if you want. I suggest eating your food before it goes cold before we do that, though."
At the cooing, he unconsciously pulls out his own tribble, which starts trying to climb his arm again. It seems determined to strike a purring trail all the way to his shoulder.
no subject
The only one who seems to object is the tribble, which makes something of a disappointed warble at the game being over for now, despite that Bucky still manages to focus on clearing his plate with dedicated efficiency.
no subject
Bruce decides to just let his tribble be. It is still determined to get to his shoulder and loudly purring when he turns to tend to the oven. By the time Bucky's ready, Bruce will have already put out the ingredients and materials to show him how to make a pancake from scratch. And the tribble will have reached his shoulder and will be happily purring in his ear. It sounds like the happiest lawnmower alive.
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Then he looks back down, making note of the ingredients and memorising them in the same moment.
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"First thing you have to know is that it's pretty easy to make a pancake once you remember what you need. You put the dry ingredients in a bowl, mix it, then put in the wet ingredients and mix that. Then you pour as much batter as you want on the pan and flip it once it's cooked halfway through. But if you want to make a really good pancake..."
He picks up a sifter, holding it out for Bucky to take and examine. "I suggest sifting your flour before you use it. Once or twice should be enough. That makes the cake fluffier. You should also take out your eggs and milk early so they get down to room temperature and don't seize up the batter when you're mixing. Melt the butter before you put it in the batter, add a splash of vanilla if you're feeling fancy... easy. You can throw in blueberries or something too if you want to. Want to try?"
no subject
The petting only spurs the purring on.
His hand drops to pay attention to his newest cooking lesson and take the sifter from Bruce, turning it over in his hands. "I liked to have banana pieces with them before." he nods and moves forwards to give it a go, frowning. "But they don't taste right anymore."
no subject
"Try having it purr like that in your ear all day. You'll have a whole new definition of loud." Seriously, it sounds like the happiest little chainsaw.
"The bananas don't taste right anymore?" Bruce watches Bucky work. He doesn't expect to have to jump in, since pancakes are generally simple, but he's ready to if Bucky finds himself stuck. "That might have something to do with all the genetic engineering that's gone on with food since the forties. There was a baby boom after the second World War was over and they had to develop plants that could support the growing population. A lot of older strains were phased out for ones that had greater return." Oversimplification, yes, but that kind of stuff is closer to Betty's field of expertise, not his.
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"No, they don't. They're not the same." he says more firmly this time, more like a sulking little kid than anything. One that had his favourite treat stolen from him. "They were better than they are now. I don't like the ones they have here."
He's learned this to his despair some time back when he'd picked up a banana, peeled it and bit into it before immediately spitting out the bite he'd just taken in shock. "They shouldn't have changed them."
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"Like I said, they needed to switch up crops to get better yield. Bananas aren't the only ones that were changed since then."
On one hand, he's a little amused by how the man seemed to be sulking over bananas of all things. On the other hand, it's a little sad that not even fruit is familiar to him anymore. He wonders how the man got to the modern day without aging or knowing how the food had changed; had he ended up in an glacier like Steve?
"The strain of bananas you remember might not be extinct, though. It'd be easy enough to look up." He keeps his eyes down at Bucky's hands, using their little pancake lesson as an excuse to avoid eye contact. It's become a bad habit of his, avoiding eye contact, especially when he's having a conversation that is something other than purely professional. "How aware are you of what went on in the last seventy or so years?"
He doesn't want to pry, but that seems like pertinent information, and he won't press for anything else. He's just trying to think about exactly how much the man needs to catch up on.
no subject
He's looking down at his hands as well.
"Not much." the answer comes honestly, spoken in a way that's almost detached from the picture the words paint. "I was kept in storage for most of those years and they would wipe away my memories of when I was taken out."
Just like that, Bucky hands over some details of how he survived into the 21st Century to Bruce.
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(Suddenly, Bucky's lack of basic knowledge made a whole lot more sense.)
Intrusive questions dance on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows them. Instead, he just asks, "Who did that?" Voice light and casual, like they're talking about the weather.
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His eyes flicker for a moment at Bruce before he answers, "HYDRA."
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"Ah."
There are a lot of implications there. A lot of possible reasons a Nazi organization would hold an American war hero for seventy years. None of them are good.
This explains so much of his behavior and demeanor.
"Did you get out by the time you were taken by the Capitol?"
Only one more question. He won't ask for the story, for what he did or had done to him. All that matters is if the man out from their thumb now.
no subject
A brief two weeks of freedom. A mess of detoxing from the drugs HYDRA had kept pumped into his system and meandering through Washington D.C with little to no direction, aware enough only to ditch the uniform he'd worn for civilian clothing and rid himself of his more conspicuous weapons. He remembers the tail end of it best, when he'd began to follow the news and research the man he'd saved, an action which had led him to the Smithsonian museum and his own face plastered on a wall.
Then he'd been brought here and any designs of freedom or revenge for what had been done to him had gone out of the window, possibly forever.
no subject
Only two weeks out of a possible seventy years of freedom, and then suddenly back under someone else's control.
He looks at Bucky, his face hard to read. It explains a lot. It doesn't explain everything, since there are a lot of details missing, but it explains a lot.
"If you want, I could show you how to cook something else. I have a lot of ingredients lying around that need to get used." He won't pry into it. He can give a distraction instead. Then, once they're all back home and out of the murder games, they could deal with HYDRA and the aftermath of Bucky's captivity.
no subject
He remembered and he didn't sleep in the ice but he still killed by command. Worse, he truly died by command. He could say all this but doesn't, as his throat tightens at the memories and the constant oppressive air grows heavier around Bucky, threatening to stifle his ability to breathe. It's good that Bruce doesn't ask, better that he offers something else as a distraction.
"I like learning this skill." he finally says as the seconds tick by in the wake of the offer. Cooking is useful and does not cause harm like almost everything else he knows how to do. "Please."
Sounds like a good place to stop?
"Good. I have a lot I can teach. Then next, I'll show you how to cook bacon. It's easy and most people like it, unless they have religious dietary restrictions."
Bruce waves towards the fridge. "There's some raw bacon on the lower shelf. You can go grab that."
yep!
Bucky goes and retrieves the bacon before returning to stand at Bruce's elbow, a healthy amount of space between them for both their comforts. He proceeds to lose himself in listening and following direction, the simplicity of learning a new skill and not having to think too much about what he's doing.