MARVEL: Off-Duty Superheroes [one-shots + imagines]

Bruce Goes to the Supermarket

"Bruce?"

The scientist's head snaps up, his glasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose, and he pulls them off. He's been working in his laboratory all day, and - to be honest - he doesn't have a clue what time it is.

"Yep?" He says, folding the glasses and tucking them in the front pocket of his lab coat. "What's up?"

Natasha grins, then lifts up an empty gallon of milk with her pointer finger and wiggles it in the air, and Bruce groans.

"Shit," he swears, slapping his hand on his face. "I mean, shoot. I mean...I - I completely forgot. I promised to get groceries today, I know. I'm sorry."

The redhead laughs, "It's okay, but you know how Steve gets when he doesn't have his Wheaties in the morning."

"Worse than the other guy," Bruce mumbles, shrugging off his lab coat and tossing it over the back of a chair.

It was the weekend, meaning the staff Tony hired to manage cleaning and stocking the fridge was gone, and the Avengers took turns making sure the fridge was stocked. Between the super soldier and Thor, they went through more food than a professional football team does on a weekly basis, and that didn't include their recent additions to the team. Sam insisted on eating as much (or attempting to eat as much) as Steve, usually giving up halfway through, and Bucky...well...let's just say that once the Winter Soldier realized he could eat anything he wanted in the facility, it was hard to keep him away from the refrigerator. They needed to keep a fruit bowl stocked at all times in order to avoid complaints.

"Got a list?" Bruce asks, passing Natasha on his way to the kitchen.

He pats his back pocket, making sure his wallet there with the credit card Tony gave him, and pockets his cell phone. The keys to one of the SUVs are on the counter, and he snags them as he walks past.

Natasha lifts an eyebrow, "You driving? I thought you hated driving."

"I do," he replies, tossing the keys her way. "It's Saturday afternoon. No way am I walking around town during the weekend."

Natasha groans, snatching the grocery list off the refrigerator, and tucks it in her back pocket while she mumbles a few curses in Russian.

"Why can't Barnes drive you?" She asks, pointing at the soldier perched on a stool at the edge of the counter with a book in one hand and a plum in the other.

Bucky smirks, before replying, "Because that's a brilliant idea. Put the two guys on the team most likely to blow up with little warning in a moving metal box surrounded by civilians."

"Convenient excuse," Natasha retorts, giving him a glare. "Where's Steve?"

The soldier shrugs, "Beats me. Not my job to keep tabs on him."

"Sam?" She asks, glancing at Bruce. "Anyone?"

Bucky takes another bite of his plum, wiping the juice off his chin with the back of his hand.

"Nope," he says, his lips popping on the letter p. "It's all on you, princess."

Bruce sighs, "Come on, Nat, let's just get this over with."

Fifteen minutes later, they pull into the busy parking lot of the local supermarket. Bruce moves to open the door once Natasha kills the engine of the black SUV, but he stops when he realizes the red-headed assassin isn't moving.

"Aren't you coming?" He asks, motioning toward the doors.

She shakes her head, pulling out the list and slapping it against his chest, "Nope."

Rolling his eyes, Bruce steps out of the vehicle and shuts the door behind him. The parking lot is packed with shoppers heading to and from the store, and he is careful to avoid any oncoming cars. The other guy hated getting shot at, so he probably wouldn't appreciate being hit by a car.

Once inside, he grabs a cart and unfolds the shopping list to scan its contents. Steve's clear handwriting lists: 'milk, eggs, macaroni + cheese, Oreos, root beer'. Underneath that, he can make out the word 'bacon' in Natasha's tiny scrawl, followed by Sam's blocky script stating 'LOTS OF BACON'. Shaking his head, Bruce navigates his shopping cart through the aisles as he marks each item off the list. He picks up a few items for himself, mostly health food and caffeine-free tea, before he gets to the bottom of the list.

Ben and Jerry's, the paper reads in Bucky's unmistakeable handwriting. The good kind.

Groaning, he wheels the overloaded cart back to the frozen section and stands before the ice cream freezer. Countless Ben and Jerry's flavors stare back at him, ranging from Natasha's favorite - Phish Food - to Sam's preference of Chocolate Fudge Brownie.

A few moms wheel past him, no doubt giving him a strange look as he studies the ice cream flavors like they're a complicated math problem, before he throws his hands into the air and opens the freezer.

The cashier's eyes are the size of baseballs by the time he reaches the checkout, the pile of food large enough to feed a family for a month, and he runs his hand through his disheveled hair as he pulls out Tony's credit card to pay.

"Got enough?" The teenage girl jokes, swiping the last item across the scanner and tapping a button so the total flashes up on the screen.

Bruce grimaces, "Let's hope it lasts the weekend."

"Need help getting all this to your car?" A blonde kid asks from where he stands at the end, packing the rest of the food into bags.

The scientist nods, rubbing his temple, "That'd be great, thanks."

Natasha says nothing when he shows up, supermarket employee in tow, and unloads the masses of bags in the back of the SUV. She snorts when he climbs into the front seat, throwing the list back at her, and slams the door shut.

"I hate grocery day," Bruce mumbles.

Laughing, she drives them back to the compound. Once they arrive, she tells JARVIS - through the car's interface - to alert the team and lays on the horn once she sees Bucky and Sam strolling out the doors to the SUV.

Bucky reaches the car first, lifting the back hatch, and grinning like an idiot when he sees the mountain of bags - most of which are filled with different flavors of Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

"Dude," Sam says to Bruce, his eyes wide when he takes in the masses of ice cream.

Shrugging, Bruce replies, "He told me to get the good kind, so I just got one of each."

Leaning forward, Bucky digs through the bags before they can unload them from the back of the SUV while Natasha spins the keys around her fingers. Bruce folds his arms across his chest while Sam watches, waiting for his friend to finish his search.

"Hey, Bruce?" Bucky asks, slinging all of the plastic bags filled with ice cream on his left arm and turning to face them. "I think you'll have to go back. I wanted vanilla."

Instantly, Bruce's face picks up a hint of green as Bucky laughs. The soldier's eyes widen, noticing the way Bruce's fists are tightly clenched by his sides, and sprints back toward the facility with the bags of ice cream in tow. Sam follows closely behind, calling for Bucky to wait for him, leaving Natasha to cool down the pissed-off scientist before his other side decides to make an appearance.