Apples were not exactly easy to come by, though Steve had helped to pack the cargo hold with plenty of canned fruits from areas that weren’t too badly affected by the nuclear fall out. They had all been deemed safe by Bruce and Tony and their equipment and there were a few palettes of the stuff in one of the rooms. They wouldn’t last forever, and after that…no more apple pies.

But Steve couldn’t fault Bucky for wanting to make this if he actually remembered the recipe. That was pretty amazing and he wanted to encourage it.

“You’re…you’re a gem, Buck,” Steve said, more a whisper than anything. He wasn’t sure if he should raise his voice, it seemed like too reverent. Too beautiful. “I really can’t believe you remember this.” After an egg wash, the pie went into the oven and only then did Steve realize that they were getting some looks. It didn’t matter that he’d worked hard rescuing everyone and stocking the skiff up. It didn’t matter that he was tortured for months. All these people saw were their own plights.

So this might be the last apple pie he’d ever had. He couldn’t fault anyone else for feeling as they did and he didn’t want to take any more advantage. That did not make him feel less grateful to Bucky, though.