Margo had had plans this morning. She always had plans, even if they mostly consisted of working and working out and wandering around the city. This morning, though, the faint aroma drifting into her room at the Mansion persuaded her to let all of those plans wait.

Bacon.

It smelled like a proper English breakfast with her brother. It smelled like cooking too much for breakfast because her dad wasn’t home (like ever) to stop her. It smelled like grease sizzling on a skillet. Like love at first smell.

She followed her nose down to the kitchen… and promptly froze in the doorway, because the scene before her gave an entirely new meaning to what Amelia had said about Sam having a lot on his plate.

Cold Steel, in all his glory, was cooking. He was shirtless, with a flask in his back pocket. Margo’s inner fangirl was telling her to take a picture and post it on every bird watching site ever. The other part of her, aka the real part of her, pushed that impulse down. She’d heard so much about this guy— come to think of it, also seen so many photos of his abs that she’d have been more surprised to see him fully clothed than in his current state. Based on what she had heard, she ought to dislike him very much. (Based off what she had seen, she ought to like him very much. Not that she was, you know, thinking any of those thoughts.) On the other hand, it was unfair to judge Cold Steel based off what she had heard. Even if he was living up to those expectations. She hadn’t really met him yet, after all.

“Hey,” said Margo, by way of a greeting. “You gonna eat all that bacon yourself?”

And no, all that was not an overstatement. Based on the two jumbo packets discarded on the counter, Cold Steel was cooking enough to feed an army. For a week.

”Maybe.” Sam said flipping some bacon in the pan after another round of a satisfying bacon hiss. The aroma alone was enough to make him cry tears of joy. It had been a full day now since Sam had had any sleep and he was starting to work off a hangover meaning he had the best excuse to start a new tradition at the mansion. ”What ever I don’t eat is up for grabs.” Sam said turning away from the frying pan and grabbing some salt and pepper.

A few shakes from each and Sam turned to grab his coffee which already had some hair of the dog that bit him the night before. ”More than welcome to grab some though. You want some coffe...” Sam trailed off and finally looked at who was talking to him. A younger girl had to be in the teens. ”You drink coffee? Don’t got anything fancy, defiantly not a five dollar drink.” Sam said trying to make a joke about how much coffee is now.

”I’m Sam.” the ice-mancer said groggily into his mug.

Did she drink coffee? “Sometimes. Decaf, mostly.” She’d never liked the idea of being addicted to something like some people were addicted to caffeine— or alcohol, for that matter. She bit back that remark, though, because it was hardly fair to tear into someone she had just met like that. Anyway. Tea was so much better, when she did want something hot and caffeinated.

“I’m Sam.”

“I know.” Was there anyone in the state of New York who didn’t, in all honesty? “Nice to meet you, anyway. I’m Margo.”

Sam looked, well, sleep deprived and most likely nursing a hangover, which was what Margo had been expecting. She skittered around him and poured herself a glass of orange juice from the fridge. Then she approached the pirate himself, because what she had not expected was for him to be so… err, worthy of his fangirls’ attention. The pictures really didn’t do him justice. His one eye was as cold and as bright as his namesake, and that wall of abdominal muscle… that muscle in his arm as he flipped the bacon in the pan…

Jiri would have been proud.

All this was done under the guise of helping Cold Steel out with the bacon, of course. Margo found some chopsticks in the cabinet, because the Mansion was awesome that way, and fished out the bacon that had finished cooking onto a plate lined with paper towels.

“So.” She spoke around a mouthful of said bacon. It burned her mouth, but she could have cared less. “How goes your life, Sam?”

”Nice to meet you Margo.” the ice-mancer said as she maneuvered around him for OJ and some chopsticks. When he saw the chopsticks he took a step back so she could get in the frying pan and remove the bacon with ease instead of trying to work around him.

Sam sipped his coffee and iced over his finger and stuck it in the frying bacon grease and then put it in his mouth. He reached for the pepper then added a bit more as he got the next round of bacon. Sure he had a massive plate already but, it was bacon and that meant it wouldn’t be long before someone ran into the kitchen to grab some so, making more meant he’d have more to eat.

Sam was fine working in silence drinking spiked coffee and copious amounts of bacon but it seemed Margo had a different idea. ”Errrr….” Sam looked at his bacon then his coffee mug, he was tired and hung over but he shrugged. ”Alright… I guess.” he paused and took a bite of bacon, there was no stomach lurching here just a loud stomach growl and a wolfing of the slice. Sam washed it down with more coffee, ”How are you?” Sam said still slightly confused as to why she was talking as if she knew him. Had she met him and Sam just not remembered? No, that wasn’t the case he was at least pretty sure that wasn’t the case.

Sam was alright I guess. What an illuminating statement. “I’m good,” replied Margo, in much the same spirit. Well, there went that attempt at conversation.

Come to think of it, there were so many topics she had to avoid if they wanted to talk— how she and Jude had borrowed Cold Steel’s identity and ended up setting the jet hangar on fire, for example, or how she wanted to join the X-men in order to stage a coup— that it was probably safer to talk about nothing at all.

Margo didn’t mind, really. She was more than happy to stand within accidentally-bumping-into-distance of sculpted muscle and pig out (haha, get it?) on the bacon.

Sam finished his cup of coffee in silence occasionally watching Margo eat some of the bacon that he prepared he was hoping he would have had some more time alone with the bacon first but that was the thing about the mansion kitchen. You never knew who was going to pop in and steal some of the food if enough was prepared, that was why he was making so much. Sam reached for the pot of coffee and poured some more of the dark black liquid into his mug he left room for the whiskey of course and proceeded to top it off as he flipped the bacon.

Shifting uncomfortable he went to the fridge and pulled out some Orange Juice and grabbed a cup. ”You want some OJ?” he asked pouring some with his good eye focused on his cup and his sixth sense on the bacon making sure it didn’t burn. Margo of course would feel a little chill from that.

”Sooo… how long have you been at the mansion?” he asked curiously starting to feel a little more open the better he felt. The coffee and the bacon were working well with his body now.