Sarah's stirring in the chili powder and trying to decide if she can get away with a little more cayenne when arms wrap around her middle and squeeze.
"Whatcha cookin'?" Bucky murmurs in her ear as he cranes his neck to peer over her shoulder and inhale.
"Chili," she answers, resisting the urge to order him out of her kitchen and relaxing into him a bit.
"I thought chili had chunks."
She turns, and shoves him out of her space, affronted. "Chunks?"
He raises his hands in his, "oh, shit, I've stepped in it," gesture. "Like, I don't know. Chunks of meat? Instead of hamburger?"
"Does this look like Texas to you?" she asks, waving her wooden spoon around for emphasis.
He laughs softly and moves slowly to gather her up again. "No, I guess not. Smells good."
"Course it does. It's me makin' it, right?"
"That's right," he answers and squeezes her close, pressing a kiss just under her ear before sliding out of her space to turn up the music.