All caps for the "leave the gun, take the canoli"
“What the hell-” Bucky pants, he leans over, hands bracing his thighs, “-was that?”
Steve, unaffected shrugs, “Classic, run of the mill, villain?”
There’s powdered sugar and flour coating every inch of the kitchen, the red on his pants– khakis, mind you– is probably that strawberry ganache he made earlier, and there’s knocked out men propped against his ovens. The mess alone is going to take hours and all the Pine O Pine in the world to clean, but who knows how long it’s going to take either NYPD or the Avenger’s evidence team to finish taking what they need from his establishment.
He looks up from the pants he’s never going to be able to wear again and raises an eyebrow at Steve, “This is a bakery. Crime and villainous things do not happen here. Here is where crime and villainous things come to rest.” He knows a couple of mob leaders favor his coffee and jelly filled donuts, doesn’t mean Steve has to know that, though.
Steve chuckles and holds and hand out to Bucky, “Come on, I’ll call the others to help clean up.” Pointedly ignoring the fact that organized crime leaders know Bucky’s name and have him down as their lead pastry caterer for events.
Bucky takes his hand and shakes his head, “This is not what I expected when I started dating Captain America.”
“What did you expect?“ Steve asks pulling him in, smooth like he’s done this millions of times, uncaring to the food on their clothes and the mess surrounding them.
Bucky shrugs, a sly smile crossing his lips, “Muscle to bring in the load of sugar I get each month, free access to any and all museum featuring you.”
Steve hums, grinning, “Such high expectations.“
“Yeah,“ Bucky nods, “and now all I have are sugar coated criminals knocked out on the floor and a dutch oven that probably needs to be submitted as evidence. Got that from Becca for Christmas, you know.”
“That dutch oven saved your life.“
Bucky rolls his eyes and pulls away from Steve, not wanting to stroke his ego and agree that yes, the orange dutch oven saved his life when it slamed into some goon’s head. “Guess we should stop staring at the bodies and actually call the authorities.”
He places his hands on his hips and looks around, taking a moment to look at his messy kitchen once more before heading to the swinging door leading to the front of his shop. He turns around to ask Steve if this is NYPD business or Avengers business but stops short when he sees Steve collecting any and all items that could be used as weapons in the event those goons wake up. Since this is a kitchen, it’s a lot of items.
“Steve.“
“Yeah?“ Steve asks, reaching down for on of the goon’s guns.
“Leave the gun and take the cannoli. I didn’t spend all day making them for a couple of bad guys to run them.“
Steve grins and kick the gun away, “Roger that.”