Chapter Text
2:04 AM
Bucky led the way as Steve wheeled Tony into the foyer. The billionaire donned an eyepatch and a bandage around his head, his casted arm carefully cradled in a sling.
The lights to the kitchen glowed at the end of the hallway.
Bucky shot a look over his shoulder at Steve. "Lights on," he muttered.
"Jarvis, honey," called Tony, "no intruders, right?"
"Potentially, sir," the AI quipped, "However, they appear to have neutralized their own threat level by preparing a meal."
Steve and Bucky shared a contemplative look as they proceeded forward.
"Huh. So, home invasion, but make it fine dining. Nice. Tell me, Jarvis, should I be flattered or concerned?"
"Both," Jarvis replied.
The three men rounded the corner to the sight of a finely laid out, partially home-cooked meal.
Takeout boxes sat on the island counter. Three sets of plates, silverware, and water glasses surrounded a small buffet of wagyu steak, brussel sprouts, asparagus, steamed carrots, mashed potatoes, and pierogi. An apple pie sat towards the end of the dining table.
"Aw, no whiskey?" Tony tsked.
Bucky happily snacked on a pierogi.
Before Bucky or Steve could reply, Jarvis said: "Unfortunately, Dr. Banner was concerned about mixing alcohol with any prescribed medications."
"Bruce was here?" Steve asked, as he pushed Tony towards the table.
"Would that be a concern, captain?" the AI asked.
"Oh, uh--" Steve looked to Tony, who waved an unconcerned, un-casted hand "--not a problem at all."
"Then yes." Jarvis replied, "He's on the couch, sir."
The three men looked over to the living area where Bruce had curled up. His hair had surrendered to sleep, curls flopping in every direction. Some flattened against the arm that his cheek squished against--leaving his lips pursed like a sleepy fish--while others curled outwards in soft, wayward loops. His position left his glasses askew on the bridge of his nose, long eyelashes quivering against his cheeks as he dreamt. His side rose and fell with deep, steady breaths.
"Jarvis," Tony said, breaking the silence among the three men, his uninjured hand over his heart, "this feeling I'm having. Is it toxic?"
"Only if you plan to resist it, sir. Otherwise, I’d say you might find it… refreshing."
"Read my mind," Bucky replied, his eyes slowly sweeping over Bruce's sleeping form.
Tony sighed. "This doesn't make me a victim, right?"
"Victim? Well, sir, considering you survived an altercation with an enhanced being and received dinner in recompense, I’d say you’re at least a well-fed one."
Steve chuckled, gently rubbing Tony's shoulders. "I'll protect you if it comes to that." He kissed the top of Tony's head.
"Besides," Bucky said, crossing his arms, "he would not leave his apartment for days. He was really torn up over the whole thing."
"Yeah, yeah," Tony huffed. "I get it. We'll deal with the trauma later. You want him, I want him. Steve?"
The corners of Steve's eyes crinkled. "Definitely."
"Great! Then I don't see the problem."
"Well," Bucky said, "It'd be good to talk to him. I don't think he'll feel alright with us until you do."
"Don't worry about it," Tony said, a glint in his eye. "I've got a plan."