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Steve dropped the last pieces of lumber on his pile before he allowed himself to take a short break, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his handkerchief. He looked out at the fields and their slowly growing crops, a smile dancing on his lips at the thought of the upcoming harvest. He and Tony had made some much bolder choices this year, secure in the knowledge that even if some of their experiments failed, they still had enough stockpiled from last fall to tide them over.
The apples alone would see them through another spring. After all, the orchard was what had attracted them to this patch of land in the first place.
“Steve! Did you get the flour?”
“Just a minute,” he shouted through the open window, backtracking to the cart to heft the three massive sacks onto his shoulders. His knees almost buckled under the weight, but now that he was already carrying them, there was no point in putting them down. Steve stumbled his way into the house, almost banging his head on the door when the motion of opening it unbalanced the sacks of flour. He was greeted by a loud sigh before some of the weight was lifted off him and he could meet Tony's annoyed eyes.
“And who are you trying to be? Atlas?”
“You're welcome, darling,” Steve said, a little miffed, and Tony rolled his eyes but pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
“I swear, your daft head will be the death of you one day.”
“Your endless nagging will be the death of me,” Steve said, putting down the flour and hugging Tony around the waist to take the sting out of his words. “I got the lumber too.”
Tony hummed happily. “Fantastic. I'll get started on the shed as soon as I finish this.”
“Finish what?” Steve looked around Tony, his eyes widening when he saw what was on the stove. “You're making pie?”
“I am,” Tony said proudly. “New recipe.”
“I wasn't aware we had an old one.”
“Hush, you.” Tony whacked him with a dishtowel. “It's just a pie. How hard can it be?”
“If anyone can figure it out, it's you.” Steve kissed Tony's cheek before pulling away. “I'll leave you to it. Do you know where the nails are?”
“On the window ledge above your desk. What do you need them for?”
“Who knows? I might just build the whole shed while you're busy baking.”
Tony looked at him, eyes sparkling with amusement. “A bit of a role reversal, isn't it? Me cooking, you building?”
“Variety is the spice of life.” They shared a grin before Tony waved him away, turning back to his pie.
“Very well. Try not to hammer the nails into your thumb.”
“Try not to burn the house down,” Steve shot back, the sound of Tony's laughter trailing him all the way outside. Truthfully, there wasn't much he could do without Tony's input, seeing as Tony was the one who had drawn up the plans for the shed in the first place. But Steve had noticed earlier this week that one of the frames of their chicken coop had come loose, so he was just going to do a bit of maintenance instead.
Once he was finished with that, it only made sense to feed the chickens too, which led him to checking up on the cows, which led him to cleaning the barn, and so on, and so on. By the time he was finished, it was late afternoon, and Tony was still in the house, probably making lunch. Steve was getting rather thirsty, so he decided to take a break, wiping his dirty hands on a towel as he walked inside. His nose wrinkled immediately. Something smelled burned.
“Tony?” he called out, and a loud curse and a crash followed. “Tony!”
“I'm alright,” Tony shouted, but Steve still hurried into the kitchen, relieved when he saw Tony upright and well, albeit with flour all over his face and chest. On the counter was the culprit of the burnt smell that permeated the air, a perfectly blackened – well, he could still call it a pie by definition, he supposed.
“Everything alright?” Steve asked, taking in the mess in the kitchen and what appeared to be another hastily thrown together attempt at a pie crust. When he looked up, Tony had a grimace on his face and wouldn't meet Steve's eyes.
“So. As it turns out, making pies is very hard.”
Steve chuckled, stepping in close so he could hug Tony to his chest. “It's alright, love. We can always try again.”
“I think I've had quite enough of baking for now,” Tony sighed, thunking his head down on Steve's shoulder. “The general store is still open. I'll head out and fetch us some dinner.”
“No need. I bought bread earlier, we can have that with some egg salad. Betsy was sitting on half a dozen when I checked the coop earlier.”
“Oh, was she? What a good girl.” Tony pressed a kiss to Steve's neck. “I'm sorry about the pie. I bet you were looking forward to it.”
Steve hummed. “Well. There are some ways you could make it up to me.”
Tony pulled away just enough to give him a heated look. “Oh, really?”
Steve grinned as he shrugged. “Just a thought.”
“A very good thought.” Tony ran his hands down Steve's arms before interlocking their fingers. “Take a break, then dinner?”
Steve raised their joined hands to press a kiss to Tony's knuckles. “You have the best ideas, darling.”