"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.

They'd make something incredible, but definitely not the bookshelf it was supposed to be. It would probably fly.

"You should've seen me making noodles," Steve said earnestly. "Disaster."

"Nice!" Steve said. "I'd definitely know that was a dumpling if I was asked."

The behind-closed-door makeouts on this trip had been great, at least? "Well, no, but that's a tough threshold to cross. You'd have to look like Lucy and Ethel in the chocolate shop to feed me."

Steve blushed. "JARVIS suggested it. It's kind of amazing."