Ever since The Taco Incident (the food, not Walker’s shield) Ava and Yelena have made a practice of harassing and wheedling John into cooking for them. It didn’t matter if they were on the jet post-mission, if John was working out or running, or god help him sleeping in bed. Privacy is pretty much non-existent when Ava can phase through any door or wall put in her way.
“Walker, wake up. We want pancakes.” Ava plants herself on his back and pokes at his face.
He cracks an eye open and glares at his clock. “Fuck’s sake Ava it’s barely four in the morning.” A grunt. “And get off me.”
A hum as she taps her finger against the back of his head. “If you don’t make pancakes Alexi will try to make them again and it took two days to get the batter off the ceiling the last time.”
With a groan John scrubs at his face. She’s right. He doesn’t want to admit it, but she is. “Fine, fine. Go make me coffee and I’ll make your damn pancakes.” John absolutely does not feel a curl of fondness as she pats his head and leaves his room like a semi-normal human, crowing out her victory to Yelena.
It doesn’t matter who wants food, if they ask, John is going to make it. He’ll make it even if he has to learn the damn recipe, treating it like another mission and applying all of his focus to it. Pierogi for Alexi, apple cake for Bucky, macaroni and cheese from honest to god scratch after Yelena sprained an ankle. For once he feels needed not for the super solder serum in his veins or his military record. They want him because he can make them something special.
Bob has the hardest time asking for anything because he’s never been able to do that before. Thankfully, Yelena can ask for him. Whenever she finds John, her eyes wide and worried, John immediately drops whatever he’s doing. If Bob is having a depressive episode he needs to eat, if he’s having a manic day, he can corral him into the kitchen to help.
“What does he need?”
“Chocolate waffles and bacon.”
Chocolate waffles were Bob’s favorite, so it only makes sense that she’d want those in order to coax Bob into eating on a really bad day. John squeezes Yelena’s arm on his way to the kitchen, voice certain. “I’ll take care of it.”
He could be bleeding and exhausted after a mission, but if the team comes to him to ask for something as basic and as comforting as food? John would take care of it.
He would take care of them.
