Riiing, riiiiiing.
The hell.
Natasha looked around through the dark room, her red locks blocking her vision. She pushed them to the back and took the phone, dancing, and ringing on her nightstand.
“What?” she asked into the device, not hiding her anger. It was damn 2 am.
‘Hiiii Nat!’
“Steve - what the -” she rubbed her face at Steve’s too cheerful voice. She knew that Captain of the Avengers was an early bird but if it was a call to go and train, she would murder him as soon as he turned his back.
'Do you have pickled peppers?’
“What?”
'Pickled peppers. You know, ones in a jar.’
“What?! No, I don’t have peppers!”
Steve cursed, real and juicy, and Natasha’s eyes widened as Steve usually needed a good reason to curse.
'Do you know anyone who could have peppers?’
“The hell you are talking about-”
'Tony wants peppers.’
Oh, and it became clear. Pregnant Tony. Steve’s pregnant husband. Steve’s pregnant husband and his crazy cravings.
“Dammit, Steve-”
'Please, Nat, I don’t know what to do!’
“Go and buy them! There should be some 24h open stores!” she hissed and hung up. Just in case, she even turned the phone off and smushed her face back into Clint’s arm, who kept snoring and hugging calmly sleeping Bruce in his sleep. After a bit, she rolled back to her phone, turning it back on and putting on vibrations. Just in case.
Few floors up, Steve stood in the corridor and looked at the lock screen of his phone, indicating that Natasha hung up on him. Of course. It was New York, there had to be all-night open stores in the neighborhood. Just had to.
“STEVE?! Did you get them?!”
Steve shuddered at the voice. He knew he couldn’t go back to the bedroom without a peace offering of pickled peppers. “Working on it!” he called back, pulling his shoes on and jacket over pajama. Not the best set for a night ride, but there was no time. “I will be back soon!” he said and rushed out.
Peppers. Damn peppers. Steve was beating himself over, as he was driving over the nearest streets. Pickles, both dill and sweet, sauerkraut, baloney, Tony normally wouldn’t touch, ice cream and store-bought cookie dough, bananas, yellow mustard. He thought they were ready for every pregnancy craving imaginable, yet they didn’t buy those red bastards. Or green bastards? Yellow? Hot or sweet? Stuffed with cream cheese? He didn’t dare to call Tony and ask what kind of peppers he wanted, hoping that any kind would do.
Steve hit three convenient stores and was unpleasantly surprised by the lack of peppers. Did they run out of peppers in the whole state? In the last store, he met a hysterically looking guy in a set of clothes similar to his, looking for cheese in a spray can. They felt a quiet companionship and Steve directed him to the first store he had visited where he saw some Easy Cheese and the guy said an effusive thank you and deep apology as on his journey he didn’t see any peppers. At least one of them would be successful.
Steve was back in the car, idly driving through the neighborhood, losing hope. It was like New York ran out of peppers. Maybe he could buy some fresh peppers and vinegar and make them on his own, but that would take time, the time he didn’t have and he knew that he couldn’t go back home empty-handed. He needed a plan. He hit the breaks when the plan hit him the face in the form of a drive-through sign. Taking a quick turn, he entered the lane.
“Hi, one large, only cheese and pickled pepper, like a lot of them, even triple them and if you could put in a separate container some pickled peppers I would be super grateful.”
Steve reached a new level of experience, as he was driving with one hand back home and using the other to pluck out the hot peppers out of the cheese and toss in an empty box he asked at the pizza place. The amount of pickled peppers he received in a small plastic container was laughable, but it wasn’t the restaurant duty to cave to his wish and he was still extremely appreciative and left a generous tip behind. He just hoped that it would be enough to appease his husband and put him back to sleep.
“Babe! I am back!” Steve called, taking off jacket and shoes, and feeling some cold in his bones, as stress was finally leaving him.
“Did you get them?!”
“Kindaaaa,” Steve smiled sheepishly and showed Tony a pizza box when brunet ran to him.
“The hell is this?” Tony asked, eyeing the box with an offended expression. He was holding hands around his belly and grimaced, as the baby had to kick him, showing their dismay too.
“Open it,” Steve urged.
Tony did and gasped loudly, looking at the contents. Pickled peppers. Hot and whole. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Tony chanted, almost crying from gratitude and taking one and biting into it, closing his eyes at the taste. That’s what he needed. “I love you.”
“Love you too,” Steve smiled tiredly, relieved that his journey ended, and not even wondering if Tony was speaking to him or to the pickled peppers. He could finally get some sleep.
“You know what this needs?” Tony asked, waving another pepper in front of blond’s face, before stuffing it in his mouth. Steve already felt a dreadful feeling sliding down his back. Please, not cheese in a can. “Some pickle juice,” Tony said around the pepper and wobbled in the kitchen direction.
Steve sighed in relief and followed. At least they had that.