brooklynbuck:
“I think so…. yeah.” The shadow of Steve complaining in the corner while he made them both something soft on the stove lurked beyond his perception. Maybe not pancakes, they didn’t have the little square holes he thought, but close enough.
“If you’re… not tired. I could make some…”
She nodded, a small smile growing slowly wider as he spoke. Jemma pushed herself off the side of the counter, tucking her hands into the pockets of her (or, technically, Fitz’s) hoodie. Pancakes… it sounded almost normal. Granted, it was the middle of the night, but that had become her normal.
“No, I don’t… sleep that much, really. Pancakes sound nice. I’d like that.”
James smiled and began opening cupboards. Like his vaguest memories, Steve had rearranged the kitchen, and James failed to close whatever doors he opened.
“I like to watch stars,” he offered as he pushed around cans and boxes in a particularly tall cupboard. “They’re free. Like us.”
