[Right. Okay. He can do this, then. He abandons the kitchen long enough to lean over to Steve and press the lightest of kisses to his lips, trying not to aggravate the mess that his face was at the moment.]

Then I guess I don't have a choice but to stick around. Though I gotta ask, Rogers, when am I gonna start benefiting from those sweet post-it privileges you got for volunteering as art teacher to the broken and hopeless? It's the only reason I'm with you, you know?

[Back to the kitchen.

Why are there no eggs? Why is there nothing usable in this kitchen except sugar, coffee, bread, and leftover pizza? How is Steve not dead in a corner somewhere?]