Chapter Text
Steve’s “babysitter protocol”, as the Avengers coined it, started out as a simple solution to Tony’s bad eating habits.
It was just another Tuesday morning (or was it Wednesday?) according to Tony’s internal body clock, although he’d stop counting a while ago. He was currently preoccupied with upgrading his suit by adding more resistance to corrosive chemicals that nearly caused a short circuit in their last battle. He was banging his head to AC/DC blasting through the speakers when it abruptly cut off, leaving an eerie silence in its wake.
“J.A.R.V.I.S buddy? What happened to my music?” Tony asked, hoping it wasn’t another avengers call. He was still exhausted from the last battle.
“You have a visitor, sir.”
“I do? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Tony swiveled his chair around and spotted Bruce smiling sheepishly from the doorway. “Dinner’s ready, Tony. Steve made sandwiches and he asked me to call you up. He’s worried you haven’t eaten since our last meal 2 days ago.”
“Dinner already? Wow I must have been down here longer than I expected,” Tony muttered to himself. “I’m almost done here, tell Steve I’ll be up in a minute.” Tony turned back to his glove on the table.
“Is this like that last time you said you’ll be up but you never showed?” Bruce asked concerned. Steve was not the only avenger aware of Tony’s destructive habits.
“Don’t worry, Brucie Bear! I’ll definitely be there!”
“Okay..” Bruce answered unsurely, exiting the workshop.
~
“You’ll definitely be there huh?”
The genius jumped, dropping the screwdriver he was holding and turning to face the intruder. “Oh shit, I got caught up.”
Steve sighed, the screwdriver Tony dropped in his hand, his signature “I am not angry, just disappointed” look on his face. Damn, Tony hated that look.
“Look, I’ll come up with you right away, I’m sorry Capsicle. J.A.R.V.I.S. save my work, I’ll be back soon,” Tony frantically waved the holograms away, but stopped when the taller man caught his arm.
“There’s no hurry, Tony. Everyone’s done eating, they’re not at the dining table anymore.”
“Oh.. All of you have eaten?” Tony faltered, feeling unexcited about the idea of eating alone.
“Well.. Not everyone,” Steve smiled reassuringly, procuring a plastic bag from behind his back that the brunet did not see before. “I thought you wouldn’t want to eat alone. So I waited.”
Tony watched, speechless, as his Captain carefully cleared a space on his work table, taking out a variety of sandwiches and two bottles of water.
“If you aren’t going to feed yourself, then you are going to have to deal with me coming down here to eat with you.” Steve chastised him, holding a sandwich out.
“I think I can learn to live with that,” Tony grinned, taking a bite out of his sandwich.
After that incident, Tony would occasionally fling his hand out to find his tools replaced by various foods, or sometimes even utensils, and he’ll turn to see his favourite blond sitting on the couch (now branded “Steve’s couch”) beaming at him, with similar foods on hand.