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open post (steve rogers)
steve rogers / captain america open post.
※ looking for a thread with an all-american super soldier?
※ respond with any character, canonmate or otherwise, and a prompt.
※ open to any format (prose, brackets, commentspam).
※ open to any canonpoint (within marvel cinematic universe).
※ if you don't have any prompt ideas, feel free to throw the ball into my court!
※ you can always refer to the random scenario meme for inspiration.
sparkles at
because he may not have asked for this, but he did choose it. choose it more than he had the chance to choose for most of the last few years.
sam could probably spend more time thinking about that. about his own rebellious, stubborn streak and how it's landed him halfway across the world in this small, quiet house, with a halfway working kitchen, wondering if wanda and vision can really keep his up for as long as they see to want to. because yes - steve is right - sam can put two and two together. it's kind of hard to ignore with how obvious she is when she comes back. she tries so hard to act the part, to pretend that she's sad and quiet and dealing, but she's not a great actor and he can tell almost see the levity in her body. honestly, sam is happy for her. for whatever stolen moments she can sneak.
it's maddening, feeling like there's no one to reach out to. and that even though he does, he can't. he trusts natasha, he trusts steve, he doesn't regret a single thing on the road that led him here. but sometimes, if he slows for too long, he starts to get a little crazy - thinking about sarah, about delacroix. he knows natasha has it covered and he knows it will all be fine, it will all be worth it, but god when he's left alone in these safe houses, when it's him and the quiet of the french countryside, it's too easy for his head to keep spinning, too easy for his thoughts to go in all the directions he doesn't want it to.
that's when marvin comes in. that's why he's in the kitchen. he's really just here to distract himself, to fill the empty space with anything he can. it's not much, considering what natasha considered safe and how much time they had to get access to the music, but god damn is he glad for any kind of comforts at this point.
the security system does work - nat is very good at her job no matter what format or form it takes. which does more for sam's nerves than he really could put to words. but it does also let him know when steve does finally make it back, a little alert that pulls his attention, but only momentarily. sam feels better, knowing that at least steve is back, even if there is now a part of him that worries - was nat okay? did something happen? - but sam can also tell from the way steve approaches that either he's already got his mask on, or everything is fine.
he hears his name, and calls back out - ] In here, Cap! [ before returning to the food, humming along with the music, already feeling a little better. like there is a point to what might come of tonight. he hadn't known that any of them were going to make it back that night, so he grabs a bit more of the chicken he'd been working on, assuming that steve is going to be at least a little hungry.
the sound of another body moving through the house picks up all of sam's nerves. he may not be trained in the same way natasha or even steve are, but there is paranoia. there is focus. sam is picking up on enough of the process that he's now checking footsteps, listening in, checking doors and windows. so now he follows steve through the house, even as he hums along to the music, he can hear steve walking. hear the now familiar sound of his steps. when those steps come to a stop, sam glances up, one brow raised. ]
How'd it go? [ a beat, and then he smiles. ] Also- hope you're hungry.
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Steve may have not been gone for very long, but there's still some relief in hearing Sam's voice. All of them have had to become vigilant, even more than they were before, and so being able to check in with each other has become that much more important. It's why he's not quite at ease, knowing that Natasha's out there on her own and can't risk contacting him until she shows back up here in person. But Steve also knows that she's the last person he needs to worry about.
As he appears in the doorway, he finds Sam at the counter and in the middle of seasoning a chicken. Even though it hasn't yet been cooked, Steve's had the privilege of tasting Sam's cooking enough times that he knows it's going to be good. And after a long trip back where he didn't dare stop anywhere for a bite, it's fair to say that he's pretty hungry.
(That's the problem with his metabolism. He's almost always in a state where he could eat, if someone put a plate of food in front of him.)
Steve returns Sam's smile easily, then places his hand flat against his chest, just an inch or so above his abdomen. ] Definitely. Figured it was probably not a good idea to wander into the snack cart on the train ride back.
[ He strides further into the room, and while he could go sit at the table and take a load off, he instead joins Sam at the counter. Not to help, Sam has already made it very clear that Steve's more of a hindrance in the kitchen than anything else, but at least to provide company while Sam does his thing. ]
No luck yet, with the search. Nat decided that she'd have better luck if she was working solo, and I couldn't really argue. So she sent me back.
[ Just one look at him is enough to know he's not built for subterfuge, as much as he tries. As Sam said: a soldier, not a spy. ]
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part of sam can recognize the fact he's chasing for something familiar. that back home, he'd found himself in this very same place - in the kitchen, raiding the fridge, looking for something to possibly take his mind off of the stress and let him get back to work. today it just happens to be on a scale that a younger sam would have never been able to dream up. but some habits never fade.
he catches the sound of steve's footsteps in the hall and lets himself smile a little, humored by the thoughtfulness of it, in that moment, before he gets back to what he's doing. he kas picked up on enough over their time on the run to be able to guess about how many more servings, or chickens, he's going to need to add now that steve is here. and part of him feel almost comforted by it - he has always preferred cooking for more than just one.
steve returns the smile and sam does his once over - for any hitches in captain america's get-up, any obvious bruises or bloodstains or - in some cases - simple clues to let him know he hasn't been sleeping. it's something steve is probably expecting, a few seconds that sam needs to make sure everything is in place and fine, before he can really bring himself to relax. it's not that he doesn't trust steve or natasha to answer honestly when he asks how they are doing - but truth be told? he doesn't, actually. he's heard enough it'll heal and i'm fines to last him a lifetime, and it hasn't even been all that long. still - he checks. and for all he can see, steve actually does look fine. and so sam lets a little more of that tension leave him as his eyes turn back to the mismatch of seasonings and chicken breasts he's got under his hands. ]
Is the snack cart ever actually a good idea? [ the words come out with a kind of snort, the sarcasm quite apparent. sam has had enough train food cart meals to last him until his old age, which, knowing what's in half that food, will probably be sooner than he wanted. he doesn't need to look up to see steve approaching the counter, and sam moves, finishing his seasoning routine and stepping over to the sink to wash his hands. he tosses the towel over his shoulder as he finishes, letting out a whistle in steve's direction. ]
Cap benched again. Tough luck, there. [ he gives steve a small grin, clearly poking fun. ] If it's any consolation, I made sweet tea earlier if you want some. [ sam gestures towards the fridge with a turn of his head, leaning over to look around for whatever it was nat snagged for them in terms of a skillet or anything to actually cook said chicken. ] But I don't have much to report on this front either, except that I might have fixed the flickering bulb in the bathroom.
[ exciting news for the safe-house. ]
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Even so, he will take these sorts of moments where he can get them, especially now. A fleeting chance to chat with a friend while making dinner, something so down-to-earth and mundane that he knows it could never last. That doesn't mean he can't enjoy it in the here and now, though.
There's a few little tells that Steve can't help but pick up on, though he can't really hold it against Sam. He can feel the way that Sam's gaze runs over him, up and down, cataloguing everything from how he's holding himself to his posture. It's true that this particular excursion didn't lead to any combat, meaning that Steve's in as decent shape as he can be considering their situation. Given how cagey he can get about how he's feeling, Sam's had to resort to these methods. Steve could apologize for how difficult he can be (at the moment, he's got the self-awareness to do that), but he knows it would only make Sam that much more frustrated at him. So, better to just let that moment pass in silence.
He does smile, if only briefly, as he notes the way that Sam adds more chicken to his pile, tripling the portion because he knows how much Steve can put away. It's been particularly inconvenient in their current situation, when sometimes all they get to eat is vending machine or convenience store food, but tonight will be a treat. When it comes to safehouses, this is one of the nicer ones they've stayed in. Even with all of their worries weighing them down, it would be a waste not to make the most of the little time they have here.
At Sam's question, he scoffs out a laugh and shrugs one shoulder. ] When you're desperate, maybe. [ He's also had way too much train car food, but it all beats the rations he used to have to choke down during the war. He's told Sam and Natasha about that plenty of times already, though.
While Steve isn't thrilled about being benched, and shoots Sam a look at that little tease that makes that abundantly clear, it's not like there's much to be done for it. And Sam's already cheering him up, so better not to dwell. At the mention of sweet tea, his eyebrows lift up with interest and he immediately heads over to the fridge. Sweet tea had been a fairly new concept to him, growing up in New York, but he has to admit that it hits the spot sometimes, despite the sheer sugar level content being a little terrifying.
He grabs the jug and pours them both a generous glass, dropping Sam's off on the counter next to him before settling in at his side again.
After a sip, he remarks, ] You're a regular handyman. Well, I guess the upside of being benched is now I don't have to worry about you dying of boredom. [ He bumps Sam's shoulder with his own. And then, after another sip: ] This is great, by the way.
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and yes, okay, he knows what it's important to buckle down and get to work. but more often than not, they also need to remember they're human. and that there are times between missions and work and keeping their head down and keeping themselves from getting caught that sam has taken it upon himself to remind them what normal is supposed to, kind of, feel like. 'kind of' if only because sam is working with dredges here and he does what he can with what is provided.
steve lets him do his once over, lets him hit his checklist because while he trusts steve and nat with his life and then some, sam doesn't trust either of them - especially steve rogers to be honest with his own wellbeing. and maybe that's sam's own anxieties taking shape, but he appreciates steve letting him have it all the same. and yes, it does appear that there hadn't been any combat, which is immediately relaxing. sam nods, if only to himself, as his attention turns back to the chicken. to the work at hand.
he doesn't see steve's little smile, with his eyes back on the chicken, but he can imagine it. can tell that steve is thankful for the food. they rarely have time for meals, even with all the time they have trying to hide away from the eyes of the world, and sam decides that even if it's just him and steve for tonight, he might as well make what they have. the leftovers will keep for nat, and if they don't, well. maybe she'll pick up a bit more next time. sam does his best under these conditions. ]
See- when you're desperate, it's the only idea. Doesn't make it good. [ he shoots steve a look, the sort of you know i'm right and i'm not giving up ground, here arch of his brow that steve knows well, by now. at sam's teasing, steve shoots him a look that pulls a laugh out of sam, his hands lifting up in a mock-defensiveness. okay, okay, maybe that hit a little close to him. thankfully, sam knew he had the ground to give, considering steve's immediate reaction towards the sweet tea. it pulls a pleased kind of grin out of him (steve's love of sweet tea always tends to) as he finds the closest thing to a skillet he can find and goes about lighting the stovetop.
normal things. easy things. slowing down and relaxing. of course he'd prefer they were all out on a porch somewhere, preferably back home, but he'll take his moments where he can get them. ]
Oh, yeah, because I'm the one who needs to be entertained. [ another tease. they both know that given the time and boredom, sam would find other things to entertain himself with. but the insinuation is that steve is the one who needs to be babysat, which they both know isn't true.at the shoulder bump, though, sam rolls his eyes. ] Of course it is. It's my nana's recipe- everything she made was great. [ except that even he can't hold back the way his smile broadens, and with the chicken on the stove, he reaches for his own glass. takes a sip and turns to lean against the counter right to steve's side. ] But I will give you this- it's a damn good batch.
[ he sits there for a moment in comfortable silence, watching his food, feeling better himself with steve there. he takes another big sip and sets his half-empty glass down on the counter, pushing himself back over to the stove to check on the chicken. ]
Well, if you're here to make sure I don't die of boredom, you got any grand plans for us tonight?
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That's how they ended up in this mess.
Sam's ribbing isn't malicious, though, and Steve actually enjoys the way that he'll give him a hard time, never letting him get away with much of anything. It reminds him of a certain someone, whose absence he continues to feel every day, but he isn't going to go there. He's well aware that Sam isn't Bucky's biggest fan.
(Sam had thrown his life away to help Steve keep Bucky safe anyway. Steve will always owe him for that.)
Of course, it doesn't stop there, and Steve can't actually argue the point that if one of them is going to go stir crazy, it will be him first. He's no good at laying low and spinning his wheels like this, but he's had to learn over the past months, and so he won't complain. Better to just focus on what's in front of him.
Which is Sam singing his nana's praises. Steve's expression lightens at that. Sam always gets this look on his face when he talks about his family, a fondness that he can't contain and that crinkles the edges of his mouth and eyes. Steve appreciates when Sam's family comes up in conversation, if only for that reason. ]
Is the chicken recipe hers too? [ He nods toward the skillet, where the breasts are cooking steadily. ] If so, I'll prepare for it to knock my socks off.
[ Seasonings — how did he ever live without them?
As for plans, he hadn't really had anything in mind, but now it feels like it's up to him to come up with something. He glances to the opposite wall, brow knitting in concentration as he has another sip of the tea. ]
As remote as it is out here, we probably don't want to risk spending much time outside. [ Which is a shame. It narrows their options considerably. ] We could... I dunno, play a game. [ He shrugs, not sure that it's much of an idea. ] That's usually what we'd resort to when there was downtime on the front.
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sam made the choice to be here. to follow steve here, and wherever else it is they want to go. but he's not only a soldier, and he's not only steve's shadow. he thinks of them as friends, first, and friends will call out even the small things - like how if sam sees steve go another day eating only train station vending machine crap for a meal, super soldier metabolism or no, he might just scream.
( maybe sam is getting a little stir crazy.
and he sees it too - the way steve catches sam's expressions, when he brings up home. his family. the people that matter to him. at first, sam had been worried that it struck a nerve for him. that he was bringing up open wounds, making steve wishful for a life he didn't have. but he soon learned, or at least believe he's learned, that isn't the case. that maybe steve likes hearing about these people he hasn't met, and some he never will. so sam doesn't hold back, offering up information, stories, comments about family members like steve might one day know them too. ]
Oh no, chicken's my Titi's. Nana was more of a fried chicken queen, but I didn't have the stuff here to make it. I swear- next city we chill in, I'm forcing a grocery store run. I just need five minutes in one, that's it. And don't offer to go- last time I gave you and Nat a list, half of what I needed was wrong or just missing, and I know y'all ran into trouble, but still. I'm not completely useless here.
{ he says next time with the kind of familiarity of someone who knows that this process - them on the run, with countless eyes aiming for the targets on their backs, isn't ending any time soon. there is nothing dark, or sad, or worried about it. the fact of the matter is, sam knows this will be their lives for the foreseeable future. sam is just ready to make the most of it.
which also means making the most of quiet nights like this, where this tiny kitchen is starting to smell like a home, and he and steve are chatting about plans for the evening. if sam lets his guard down at all, he could almost imagine this exact scene in his apartment back in dc. except with maybe a few more options for how to spend their time.
he nods in agreement about not spending too much time outside, though sam would have done just about anything to simply go on a walk today. but he knows why, so he doesn't focus on it. instead, when he's done fussing with the stove, he turns back to steve with a small grin. ]
Play a game? And what kind of games did you and the boys play back in your day? Because I'm killer at Go Fish. [ he laughs a little rubbing at his chin as he thinks a bit himself. ] The guys and I had video games when we were stationed, but that's not helpful here. I know there's a deck of cards somewhere... [ his eyes scan the room, as if there might be an answer somewhere on the counter space, and his eyes fall upon the phone, still playing music. he considers it, for a moment, before thinking oh what the hell. ]
Or- we could dance.
[ worth a shot, right? ]
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But on top of that, Sam's also stayed with him through thick and thin, landing them in the French countryside of all places. Which isn't the worst place to be, to be sure, but that's not considering all of the other less savory places they've had to hole up while on the run.
The thing that had stood out about Sam from the beginning was that even from their very first interaction on their jogging route in DC, he'd felt like someone Steve could be friends with. That instant click is something that Steve hasn't experienced much since waking up in the future, and it's why when all of SHIELD was after him, Sam was somehow the person he thought to go to despite them having only just recently met.
All of that feels like so long ago now, but Steve's pulled back out of his thoughts when Sam starts discussing fried chicken. He will admit, he's been eager to try it, and so he isn't going to argue with Sam's promise to get the necessary ingredients for it when the opportunity presents itself. Steve huffs out a laugh from his nose when Sam takes a shot at his shopping skills — or lack thereof. ]
Look, Nat's the one you need to fight when it comes to that kind of stuff. But yeah, I think ducking into a store for five minutes will probably be okay. And worth it, if everything you've said about this fried chicken is true.
[ When it comes to who's most likely to get recognized, Steve obviously tops the list. Sam's a bit more capable of blending in.
As their conversation shifts to what the night ahead might entail, Steve can't help the brief laugh that spills out. Go Fish of all things, huh? ] Usually it was poker, but... [ There's not any easy way to play that with two people, as far as he's aware, but they could probably figure out some other card games that would work. Yeah, even Go Fish, if Sam is serious about that. Video games remain largely a mystery to him, even though he's had multiple people now tell him that he needs to be introduced to them, and so that leaves...
Wait, what? ]
Dance? [ Steve's gaze follows Sam over to the source of the music. He can't actually tell if this is a joke or not. Sam didn't say it in a teasing tone.
Of course, dancing only makes him think of one thing, or rather one person, and that's Peggy Carter. It's been so long since they made that promise, and while that might seem like an obvious thing to say, Steve isn't thinking in total years but in the amount of time since he's been awake. It feels long ago even for him now, and while that wound will never quite heal up, he knows that Peggy's gone now and whatever they'd both been waiting for, it's never going to come.
After a long pause, he heaves out a sigh. He hadn't meant to keep Sam waiting, but that distant look he'd had on his face probably spoke volumes. ]
You know, I never really learned how. Not sure you want me stepping on your feet.
[ He still isn't making eye contact, choosing to watch the cooking chicken in the pan instead. ]
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the snort from steve has sam smirking, just a bit, to himself. he does have a point. ] And don't think I won't fight her, too. The chicken is absolutely worth it, and I'm telling her you agree with me. [ which might be a stretch, but hey, sam has been given very little out here when it comes to the day to day, so he's starting to hyperfocus. which. might not be the best idea. but it's better than going completely crazy, right?
steve laughs, makes some comment about poker, and sam is already shaking his head and making a face, even before the words are fully out of him. ] Nope, absolutely not. Poker is outlawed after Nat kicked both of our asses last time. No more poker in the safe houses. I refuse to lose that badly ever again. [ sam is quite adamant in his reaction, which could probably be seen as a little overboard or dramatic, but if steve remembers the last poker night they tried too have, it would make sense. or at least makes sense to sam - natasha was absolutely cheating last time, and until he can prove how, he refuses. nope. no more.
which is why he goes out on a limb, speaks his mind even if it isn't an obvious choice on something to do with a free evening. sam offers it, but as he turns to see steve, part of him regrets bringing it up. the look in his eyes is distance, heavy and complicated, and immediately sam knows he's stepped...well. not on a land mine, necessarily, but out on the ice. it's the same look steve had at peggy carter's funeral, which is part of the reason sam can put two and two together. dancing. he missed a dance. god, there's a sudden feeling of guilt under all of this, and all the while sam tries to parse out if this is a 'apologize and change the subject' type of situation, or a 'push a little further'.
so sam takes something of a middle road, shrugging once, even if steve can't quite see it. ]
It was just a suggestion, but I'm a great teacher. If you did want to learn.
[ if steve does look back over to sam, then, it will be to a small smile. encouraging, in a way, for steve to talk if he wants to talk, but without pushing the matter too firmly. he doesn't even know where to begin when it comes to trying to understand what steve has gone through, or is going through, at any given moment. but if the last couple of years have taught sam anything, it generally helps to just be there. to not make it weird. and to keep the conversation going, if it's not the right time.
so if steve doesn't look like he wants to, or if the quiet does go on for a little too long, sam will gesture for them to head out to the living room. suggest that they check the cabinets to see if there might be any board games lying around. ]
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Either way, Steve will cross that bridge when they come to it, which will only be when Natasha comes back. That might not be for a few more days, depending on how deep the rabbit hole goes when it comes to hunting down Wanda.
Speaking of Nat, that adamant refusal of poker may be a little over-the-top, but it's also valid. Steve's had his fair share of difficult poker opponents, and yet Natasha was on a whole other level, to the point that it went past the point of being fun in some cases. Well, she had fun with it, but she also understood by now that poker was basically a can of worms among their little group.
Thankfully, there were other options. Like... dancing.
Steve's torn, in all honesty. This may be an old wound, but it's one that's easily reopened, as he's just learned. Sam had no way of knowing that this was a sore spot that shouldn't be prodded at, but Steve also wonders if it's fair to let something as innocent as an offer to dance compromise him like this. The fact is that Peggy would call him ridiculous for this reaction. More than that, she'd probably want him to learn; she'd want someone else to take up that mantle in her absence. (Wouldn't she?)
Naturally, Sam does pick up on his hesitance and continues to extend that olive branch while also offering Steve an out. That level of consideration is something that Sam's always managed with ease, and yet Steve appreciates each instance of it. As much as he doesn't like being treated like he's fragile, Sam somehow is able to respect his boundaries without making him feel as if he's coddled. ]
Well, now I have to ask where you learned. [ Steve's eyebrow lifts up as he quirks a small smile. ] And what kind of dancing are we talking, here?
[ It's hard to imagine they'll be waltzing or anything quite so formal. That sort of thing is part of bygone era save for extremely special occasions. Steve hasn't quite agreed to the offer yet, but he is showing an interest in the subject, so that's likely a step in the right direction. ]
Either way, we should eat before we do anything else, right?
[ He's an awful cook, but he has to imagine this chicken is almost done. He nods toward the stove, wondering if Sam may have gotten distracted for a moment. ]
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natasha was out for the night, probably the next couple of nights, so sam knows the poker conversation has reached its end - but it doesn’t stop sam’s mind from wandering to her. to wanda. to their little family, their little team. he worries, because he can’t not worry, but he knows that steve rogers carries enough concern in that stupid blond head for all of them, so sam doesn’t focus. chooses, instead, to make jokes. to try for ease. to crack into comments and places and lives that none of them want to talk about - not really - so sam goes out of his way to say it first. to talk. to fill the space.
it leads him into complicated territory - because sometimes diving off rooftops brings you to the ground faster than planned - but sam’s good at this. can keep this going. knows, even if they reach an impasse, he can work them all out of it.
and where it concerns steve rogers - god, where does sam even start, if not as a friend? concerned for him, first, without shying away from the fact he was just a soldier, once, even if he’s captain america, now. so sam waits, sam offers both the place to test this unsteady ground, but a path away from it too. because steve rogers is more than just cap, and even if that more is littered with discomforts, it is worth returning to. so when steve offers a half-step in that direction, sam warms to it. smiles. shrugs, easily, like there’s nothing complicated about this at all. ]
Nana herself, actually. Then Mama, then my sister. You didn’t really get the option to pass when a Wilson woman wanted to dance. [ there is half a moment of memories, there. of family reunions, of weddings, of funerals. graduations and memorial day barbecues and everything in between. sam isn’t even taken by the list of them because they are as much a part of him as breathing.
he laughs, though, when steve asks what kind of dancing. soft and simple. ] Depends on the music. Swing, two step, could just be dancing for dancing’s sake. It didn’t always need a name, back home. Why- looking for something in particular?
[ and that was sam pushing boundaries, sam edging back into that potentially tense territory. if steve wanted to talk about it, this would be the last time sam would push. if he didn’t, well, it would be easy to adjust from here - like a flight path, like wings in the wind.
then it was steve’s turn to catch him mid- thought, sam’s eyes going a bit wide as he turns back to the stove. ] Shit-
[ the next few moments are filled with a flurry of movement, of sam back to the stove, to the chicken that was a little crispy, now, but not inedible. sam talks through most of it - comments about how the women in his life would have his hide, how steve can never tell sarah about this, how the chicken should be fine as long as they get some of this sauce out-
and, with a few of those minutes passed by, there are plates. of chicken, of veggies, maybe even some rice. sam did what he could with the meal, and what he could isn’t actually all that bad. and once it’s plated, once steve’s got his own dinner set, sam will stand with his hands on his hips. ]
Well? Try it, I wanna know.
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He trusts her. It's as simple as that. Just like he trusts Sam to be there for him in this excruciating waiting period, even if that means that they're making a meal together (well, Steve's mainly just supervising) and talking about poker and dancing and whatever else might come to mind.
There's still this sense of guilt, this imperative that he should be doing more, but Steve manages to bury it down and focus on Sam, on the here and now. And of course, Steve also wants to make sure that Sam stays steady through all of this too. He'll put on a strong face just like the rest of them, but living like this isn't easy (their current safehouse aside) and Steve feels responsible for making sure that every member of their little band of fugitives is okay, in the end.
So Sam learned how to dance from the women of his family. He should have guessed, as it seems like that's where so much of Sam Wilson came about, built up brick by brick by this long legacy. Steve's own family had just been his mother and Bucky, pretty much, and he wonders what it would have been like to have a huge family like Sam, to always be surrounded by that sort of love and support. It really does explain how Sam is the way that he is — rock solid, an anchor, and so full of consideration and love for others.
If anyone was going to teach him to dance, why not Sam Wilson?
Of course, then it becomes clear that Sam had forgotten the food and so Steve isn't given any opportunity to answer that question as he rushes over after him, doing his best to provide any help that he can in salvaging the meal. He gets the plates ready, at least, and scrubs out the dishes as soon as Sam's done with them just to make sure that no lasting damage is done to any of the pans. Nothing has burned, there's no actual disaster and Steve can only assume that Sam is being overly hard on himself, but he is glad he said something when he did.
They then find themselves seated at the kitchen table, steaming plates of home-cooked comfort food laid out in front of them. Just from the smell, Steve can tell this is going to be amazing, though it's hard not to feel like he's on the spot with Sam waiting for his verdict. He makes sure to grab a generous forkful with chicken, veggies, and rice so he can enjoy it all in one bite.
And then, after chewing it all thoroughly and swallowing it down: ] I'm not sure why you even have to ask. It's delicious, Sam, just like everything else you cook. [ Maybe Steve isn't the hardest person to please considering the sort of food he'd eaten growing up, but he is being entirely genuine with his words. The fact that he immediately goes in for another bite is probably another indicator of how he likes it. ]