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It started pretty simple.
Yelena had walked into the kitchen once a month and a half ago, and saw Bob pressing his weight onto the panini maker. (It was the one thing he'd asked Val for in exchange for moving in.)
"What is this?" She asked, gesturing to the ingredients strewn on the counter. A pan lined with foil and steeped in rendered bacon fat, a bowl of caramelized onions, slices of smoked cheddar cheese, deli turkey, and a bunch of seasonings.
"Oh!" Bob looked up at Yelena and smiled, "Yeah, I guess I'm just finally enjoying being hungry again. Meth just makes you wanna eat...more meth--but since I got my powers I have to stop myself from eating everything in sight,"
The panini maker beeps, and Yelena watches as Bob scoops out the sandwich. At the sound of her stomach growling, she blushes, and Bob smiles.
"You want this one? I can just make another for myself,"
Yelena feels her pupils dilating at the sight of the sandwich, at the browned cheese and onions sloughing off the sides.
"Ah, uma uh..." she shakes her head, "I have to get to rendezvous point soon em...but..."
"Oh, well I could wrap if for you," Bob says, grabbing a sheet of foil and carefully wrapping the sandwich. He slides it across the counter. Yelena takes it, feeling the warmth between her hands.
"...thanks," she smiles, "I think the other might appreciate one too, just a thought," she says as she walks away.
Bob watches her leave, then looks down a the panini maker. He turns and swipes a few times on the smart fridge to check tower attendance. Yelena just checked out 2 minutes ago, but the others were all still here--Ava in the conference room for that meeting with Sable, John in the gym, Alexei in his room, and Bucky in the library.
"Hm," he said, "Well, s'not like I have anything better to do,"
And that's how it starts. First it's the paninis, greasy and cheesy and way too good to make sense--then it's an honest to god funnel cake, then fried green tomatoes because of course--he's from Florida, then key lime bars, then nachos--
"Alright, this has gone too far," John says at dinner one night. It was surprisingly easy for everyone to sit down eat together at least twice a week. Turns out they all preferred it to eating alone like they'd each been doing for years.
John planted his palms on the table and leveled Bob with a stare, "This isn't healthy,"
"...yeah we know, and so does the media but we got thrown into a shitty team anyway--" Yelena starts.
"No not, us I mean the food," John gestures down at his, completely clean, plate where a smash burger and tater tots once were, "I mean come on we're eating like high schoolers...or stoners--stoner high schoolers,"
Yelena and Ava look at him, then start snickering.
"Ok mom," Yelena says, and Ava cackles, "I mean come on Walker it's like you're allergic to fun,"
"There's fun and then there's destroying your microbiome--Bucky come on. Back me up," he says.
Bucky, who's nose deep in his news paper, wordlessly grabs a handful of tater tots and shoves them into his mouth. He was a surprisingly messy eater.
"You know as much as I do that we burn energy too quickly for it to matter where that energy comes from," he says, voice garbled from the tots.
John shakes his head, "So I'm alone in this, huh?"
The next morning, Ava trudges into the kitchen, and sees 6 glasses lined up on the counter, all filled with a chunky, forest green liquid.
"Ah, you're up," John says, rinsing out the complicated luxury blender nobody knows how to use but him, "Take one,"
Ava snorts, "Yeah, no thanks. I'm not drinking one of your almond mom smoothies,"
"And I'm not asking," John says, opening a drawer and taking out a handful of metal straws. He drops them in each cup, and slides one across the counter to Ava.
"Go on,"
Ava grimaces down at the smoothie, but grabs it and takes a sip. Her eyebrows raise slightly at the taste, "Huh, I was expecting that to taste miserable, like you."
John scowls, "Being healthy isn't miserable. But I did have to add a bit more honey than usual because you're a fiend for sweets,"
"That I am," Ava says, walking off to the elevator, smoothie in hand.
Later on a little before noon in the group chat, Yelena says that she wants a snack. Bob, seeing this, grins and stands up to head to the kitchen. When he arrives, however, he sags at the sight of John arranging peanut-butter celery on a platter.
"At this time of day onion rings would be the last thing she needs," he says, walking off toward Yelena's room.
Yelena is unfamiliar with the combo, but enjoys it anyway.
Bob tries to beat John to the punch the next morning, but is shocked to see six acai bowls lined up on the counter, along with a smug looking John.
"Pancakes are basically dessert, anyway," He says, clapping Bob on the shoulder.
Bob begrudingly eats the acai bowl...and it's good.
"Hrrm," he pouts, wracking his brain to figure out how to get ahead of John.
Their next mission is a steakout, which is the worst because who wants to sit in one spot for hours with limited ways to occupy yourself?
And, of course, you get peckish sitting in one place for too long. John is about to pull out a bag of dark chocolate covered blueberries, but is beat to the punch by Bob handing everyone candy bars and chips.
As Ava ravenously unwraps her king sized cookies n cream bar, Bob looks smugly at John, who shoves the bag of blueberries back in his bag and grumbles to himself.
At dinner the next day though, John takes his revenge, and the team eats lemon pepper salmon and asparagus.
"Do they know that we don't care what we eat as long as we don't have to cook?" Yelena asks a week later, nibbling on a piece of brownie brittle.
"Shhh, let them have their little dick measuring contest," Ava says
"Dick measuring? This is male-wife behavior," Yelena laughs, making Ava follow suit.
Alexei looks at Bucky, who shrugs, "I stopped keeping up with slang years ago,"
Things come to a head when, on Wednesday night, John and Bob make it to the kitchen at the same time. There's 4 pounds of 80/20 ground beef in the fridge, enough for one meal.
"Sloppy joes," Bob says, inching towards the fridge.
"Stuffed peppers," John counters, reaching for the handle.
"I don't think so," Bob whispers.
John squints at Bob, then hisses and steps back.
"Jesus Bob, calm down," he says at the sight of gold swirling in the other man's pupils.
Bob shakes his head, "You need to learn your place," and throws open the fridge. Contiments rattle and clatter against the shelves as he takes out the packs of ground beef.
John grits his teeth and surges forward, grabbing the packs off the counter and putting distance between himself and Bobtry (not quite Bob not quite Sentry)
"Aw come on, don't be like that man," Bobtry says, fingers trembling, "Gimme the beef,"
"No way," John says. If he could just make it to the breakroom kitchen a few floors down. But he still needed the peppers...
"Shit," he muttered, Bobtry was hovering (literally) in front of the counter by the fridge. John looked longingly at his precious bell peppers, guarded by the junk food tyrant.
Bobtry floats around the counter. He sticks out a hand, and John yelps as the packs of beef are torn from his arms by an invisible force. The cabinets fly open, and contents come flying out.
"Waahow,"
John and Bobtry look toward the elevator as Alexei steps out. Beef, seasonings, and utensils hang suspended in the air, frozen.
"Is like Chopped but more intense. Ah! That is great idea now that I think," they watch Alexei dig his phone out of the pocket of his new and gaudy AvengerZ tracksuit, "I call Valentina. Superpowered Chopped...Super Chopped!" He says, disappearing down the hallway.
Noticing Bobtry is distracted, John lunges for the bell peppers. Bobtry clenches his jaw, pulling John back with what must be the force of fifty men.
"No,"
"Jesus Bob I just wanna--"
"NO!" Bobtry yells, the force of it making John freeze. Bobtry's chest is rising and falling, his eyes ablaze.
"This is what I'm good at. Me!" He says, "Y-you guys already do all the work, go to all the meetings, do all the interviews...this is the one thing that I..."
Bobtry's feet finally touch the ground, and the ingredients are dropped unceremoniously onto the counter.
John blinks at Bob, then sighs, "Shit man,"
Bob clutches his arms, turning away from John, "M'sorry. Shit m'sorry I'm just gonna--" he starts walking off, but John strides forward and grabs him.
"No, no no you're not gonna go isolate yourself. We agreed that we'd talk about shit like this right?"
Bob glances at John before nodding.
John sighs, "Good." He looks at the ingredients on the counter, pondering for a moment.
"...how's meatballs sound?" He asks.
Bob's eyes brighten slightly, and John feels the tension ease a bit. One step in the right direction. They start prepping, and Bob tentatively explains how he's been feeling a bit useless lately, how he wanted to be supportive but was unsure how.
"I just wanna make stuff that tastes good for everyone I guess, but then you just kinda...I dunno,"
"Yeah, I did kind of go control freak on you huh," John sighed, "Sorry. I was um, like that with my kid and Olivia too--read all these articles and stuff about nutrition and just kinda went haywire on her whenever she gave him fruit snacks,"
"Yeah well, the stuff you make is still good...and way healthier," Bob says.
The conversation flows a bit easier as they work, then turns to banter about what kind of bread crumbs they should use, and whether or not the blue cheese in the back of the fridge was still good.
"Ohf," Yelena groans when she steps off the elevator, inhaling the scents wafting from the kitchen, "That smells fucking incredible," she says, but stops short at the sight before her.
Bob is grinning down at the counter, stuffing meatballs with blue cheese and setting them off to the side on a lined baking sheet, while John frets over a pot of what must be tomato sauce on the stove. The kitchen is a wreck, but at least there isn't any arguing.
"So...what's for dinner?" Yelena asks, smirking.
John glances over his shoulder at her, then at Bob.
"Uh," they both start talking at the same time, "Ricotta...yeah ricotta and blue cheese meatballs," is what they settle on.
"With breadsticks," Bob pipes up.
"And steamed broccoli," John adds.
Yelena nods, taking a seat at the table, "When's it gonna be done?"
"About 45 minutes" Bob says as John says, "Don't rush us,"
It turns out to be an hour, because cooking with another person makes things go by slower than faster most of the time, but everyone crawls out from their little holes in the tower to sit down and eat. Ava is sweating, towel around her neck, Bucky brings a stack of paperwork to the table, and Alexei is talking animatedly about the Super Chopped pitch meeting he has with Valentina tomorrow.
But, they all go silent once they start eating. Not a sound was to be heard beyond chewing and clattering cutlerly. Everyone on the team struggled with giving and receiving compliments, but John and Bob get a series of affirming nods from the others as they eat.
"That," Bucky sighs, sitting back in his chair, "Is the best meal we've had so far I think,"
Bob's grin is so wide and so bright that John has to fight to keep his own mouth from quirking up.
"It was a team effort," John says, and Bob nods, "Yeah, a team effort, heh,"