Bucky didn't care that others were looking at them askance, he had spent seventy years being tortured and he damn well deserved every tiny slice of happiness he could get now. If he wanted to see the man he loved bite into an apple pie made with the recipe from his mother, then he'd do it, and they could all go to hell if they didn't like it.

He grinned as Steve complimented him, wanting to get up but obediently remaining in his seat so that he didn't get any further telling off from the other man who was determined, apparently, to repay Bucky for all the mother henning that he had done when he was younger.

"Excuse me?" One of the young women in the kitchen asked, frowning. "Do you really think it's a viable use of supplies to be baking an apple pie?"