Steve grinned, relieved that she seemed assuaged by his promise, for the moment. He knew it was a ridiculous, probably impossible promise to keep, but he was going to try his hardest, anyway. Captain America always kept his promises, right? He also knew that this wouldn't be the end to her worrying, either, but he was quite familiar with the old adage 'don't go borrowing trouble.'
"Yes," he responded in a chipper tone, "I was indeed going to feed you." He took her hand - such a simple, innocent gesture, that had grown instead of diminished after the intimacy they'd just shared - and led her back out into the rest of the apartment, pointing things out as they went. "Bathroom," he indicated the door at the end of the hall, catty-corner to his own bedroom, then the door across from his, "second bedroom, but it's set up as a study-slash-artist's studio. It's a corner room, so it gets great natural light from the East and South." Steve knew it was a nice room, and he was lucky to have it, but he didn't understand the importance of having a corner apartment with such a nice view, in Brooklyn Heights, which was a pricier city as it was.
Next, the living area proper, which he just waved his hand at. "I think you can figure out what this is for," he teased, before guiding her into the area he knew she'd enjoy. "And, the kitchen area." He tried to look at it from a baker's outside perspective. There was the counter opposite the island, with a stainless steel double sink, the fridge marking the edge of the kitchen area before it opened into the living section; the stove was to the left of the sink, just by the corner, with a microwave attached above it. It was a new stove, that still confounded him slightly - not only was it not gas, it didn't even have any actual burners, just sort of pictures of burners, that glowed red when it was turned on. The oven had buttons to set the exact temperature digitally, and a digital read-out of the actual temperature, you didn't even have to open the oven door to check a thermometer inside. The whole thing intimidated him.
Beside the stove, the counter extended along the adjacent wall, with a blender and coffee maker sitting off to the side. Steve had never used either of them, but they'd been house-warming gifts from Tony (meaning Pepper) and, oddly enough, Clint, so he couldn't just leave them in the boxes.
With all of that counter space, there were also cupboards above it all, as well as drawers and cupboards below, along with cupboards under the island, which spanned the whole kitchen section save for enough room to easily maneuver around the counters. Besides a set of dishes, glasses and eating utensils, the cupboards and drawers were pretty bare. He had a couple lonely pans in a drawer, for when he felt like making breakfast foods on the stove, but other than that, he didn't really have a lot of items for the kitchen. He either made sandwiches, or grabbed something quick at one of the delis down the street.
Steve had the irrational feeling like he was presenting Rogue with a courting gift, and hoped she liked it, like a bird displaying its plumage in a mating ritual.
Going over to the fridge, he started quickly pulling out things he'd need to make several sandwiches for them. He didn't just slap condiments and some meat on a sandwich, if he was going to make one, it was gonna be done right. He pulled out lettuce, a couple tomatoes, a box of pastrami and another of thick-cut roast beef, mustard, and butter. The chopping board he pulled from the drying rack, then a knife from the block beside it, and began cutting up the first tomato.
no subject
"Yes," he responded in a chipper tone, "I was indeed going to feed you." He took her hand - such a simple, innocent gesture, that had grown instead of diminished after the intimacy they'd just shared - and led her back out into the rest of the apartment, pointing things out as they went. "Bathroom," he indicated the door at the end of the hall, catty-corner to his own bedroom, then the door across from his, "second bedroom, but it's set up as a study-slash-artist's studio. It's a corner room, so it gets great natural light from the East and South." Steve knew it was a nice room, and he was lucky to have it, but he didn't understand the importance of having a corner apartment with such a nice view, in Brooklyn Heights, which was a pricier city as it was.
Next, the living area proper, which he just waved his hand at. "I think you can figure out what this is for," he teased, before guiding her into the area he knew she'd enjoy. "And, the kitchen area." He tried to look at it from a baker's outside perspective. There was the counter opposite the island, with a stainless steel double sink, the fridge marking the edge of the kitchen area before it opened into the living section; the stove was to the left of the sink, just by the corner, with a microwave attached above it. It was a new stove, that still confounded him slightly - not only was it not gas, it didn't even have any actual burners, just sort of pictures of burners, that glowed red when it was turned on. The oven had buttons to set the exact temperature digitally, and a digital read-out of the actual temperature, you didn't even have to open the oven door to check a thermometer inside. The whole thing intimidated him.
Beside the stove, the counter extended along the adjacent wall, with a blender and coffee maker sitting off to the side. Steve had never used either of them, but they'd been house-warming gifts from Tony (meaning Pepper) and, oddly enough, Clint, so he couldn't just leave them in the boxes.
With all of that counter space, there were also cupboards above it all, as well as drawers and cupboards below, along with cupboards under the island, which spanned the whole kitchen section save for enough room to easily maneuver around the counters. Besides a set of dishes, glasses and eating utensils, the cupboards and drawers were pretty bare. He had a couple lonely pans in a drawer, for when he felt like making breakfast foods on the stove, but other than that, he didn't really have a lot of items for the kitchen. He either made sandwiches, or grabbed something quick at one of the delis down the street.
Steve had the irrational feeling like he was presenting Rogue with a courting gift, and hoped she liked it, like a bird displaying its plumage in a mating ritual.
Going over to the fridge, he started quickly pulling out things he'd need to make several sandwiches for them. He didn't just slap condiments and some meat on a sandwich, if he was going to make one, it was gonna be done right. He pulled out lettuce, a couple tomatoes, a box of pastrami and another of thick-cut roast beef, mustard, and butter. The chopping board he pulled from the drying rack, then a knife from the block beside it, and began cutting up the first tomato.