#i premake challah bc of disability flares so now bucky does too

[chaoticamelay]

OP i see your soft interfaith stucky headcanon and raise you:

some people with small families struggle to make enough dough to perform the mitzvah of hafrashat challah every week. with two supersoldiers eating, bucky barnes never needs to worry about making enough dough to say the bracha. despite this, every couple of months, bucky's weekly challah making takes a little longer than normal. he spends more time mixing ingredients and kneading the dough, and when he says the blessing and separates the challah, he's clearly made much more dough than he usually does.

soon, the lovingly-braided loaves are baking in the oven, four instead of two. once the extra loaves are cooled, bucky seals them in an airtight bag and puts them away in the freezer to keep.

because sometimes there are very bad days. there are very bad days, when bucky's head hurts so badly he can't think, when the phantom pain is too much, when the place where his arm joins to his body brings him to his knees, when the physical and mental weight of everything is simply too much. on very bad days, when it takes every fibre of bucky's being just to get out of bed, going to service is out and making challah feels a million light-years away.

so if a friday is a very bad day, steve quietly takes the premade challah loaves from the freezer and lets them thaw on the counter. without pushing or pressuring, steve helps him out of bed, and they have a quiet dinner next to the glowing candles. bucky says hamotzi over the labour of his past self, and it's okay. what he is able to do, it's more than okay, it is his best. this challah is a reminder that he will not always feel as bad as he does right now.

this isn't the end of the line.

Every Friday night, Bucky will make challah before service, just like his ma used to, having fresh bread as part of a warm pre-cooked meal to come home to and enjoy with his Stevie in the light of the shabbat candles; the carefully braided bread hiding under the embroidered cover until Bucky is ready to say motzi.

Early Sunday mornings, before Steve goes to church, Bucky will take the left-over challah and make a large pile of cinnamon French toast with maple syrup, berries, with a generous side of eggs and whatever kosher breakfast meat they happen to have. They eat up, drinking coffee or tea, sharing both the meal and loving, yet sleepy, smiles. On good days they play footsy under the table, cracking the occasional joke, and just bask in the early morning peace of their home. On bad days they lean into the certainty and stability of this little weekly tradition.