Steve smiled at him fondly. "Most people are complete disasters at 7. We are...not 7 any more."

"You and your logic," Steve teased.

"That's amazingly reassuring," Steve said with a snicker, giving his new dumpling dough--his new oval dumpling dough--a dubious look.

Steve snorted. "I'm not sure our job is what's holding us back here."

"But we are incredibly take-out orderers," Steve said.

That was JARVIS, Steve.

"That one's neat," Steve said, grinning. "Not traditional, but it looks really neat."

"Looking more like ravioli," Steve agreed. "Call it fusion?"

"We can go find it for the date I owe you," Steve said.

"I'll pick a day where it does," Steve promised.

Steve grinned. "You really like the bike, huh?"

And that was Steve shoving his thumb through the dumpling dough, yes. "I've noticed that about you."

He was being punished for something, clearly.

"Look," Steve said, holding out his latest attempt. "A tortellini! Sort of!"

The chef muttered something under his breath about thousands of years of Chinese cuisine not needing any help, thank you. In Mandarin.

"We're very innovative," Steve said, "and bad at following directions."

This would be the least surprising thing Nick Fury ever heard.