FIC: Comfort Food
Title: Comfort Food
Continuity: Marvel Cinematic Universe (Avengers)
Characters: Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark
Summary: Bruce is convinced there’s something wrong with that number...
Rating: G
Genre: Humor
Word Count: 435
Note: written for comicdrabbles Prompt #22 - Putting on Weight.
“I’m telling you, that’s impossible.”
Steve continued to hold out the clipboard calmly. “I was there, Bruce. It looked to me like everything went smoothly.”
Tony glanced over his shoulder at them. “You suspect some pretty young agent of putting her thumb on the scale?” Clint was sitting on the couch with Tony, watching some reality show, though Tony had been ostensibly working on a tablet.
Bruce snatched the clipboard out of Steve’s hands and stalked over to Tony. “You explain to me how a manifestation of radiation and rage can gain weight,” he spat out.
Tony drawled, “No worries, Brucie, it’s normal to let yourself go a little once you’re comfortable with who you are.”
“I didn’t gain weight, but the other guy did!”
Tony glanced past Bruce to Steve, who shrugged. “Huh.” Tony took the clipboard and began to look through the surprisingly comprehensive results from the Hulk’s official SHIELD physical. “I have to admit I’m grudgingly impressed by their devotion to paperwork.”
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned against the back of the couch. “It just, it doesn’t fit with anything else.”
Tony made a humming, thinking noise. “Gamma levels are normal, for you anyway, and I’m not seeing any other...” he flipped through the pages again, and switched back to his tablet to check a calculation.
Steve came up beside Bruce, and spoke tentatively. “This may be a silly question, but have you felt, I don’t know, angrier than usual?”
“It’s pretty hard to quantify.” Bruce blew out a frustrated breath.
Clint spoke up. “Or, you know, donuts.”
Bruce looked blank and Tony opened his mouth and then shut it again with a speculative look.
Clint muted the tv. “You didn’t know about the donuts?”
“You, you’ve been feeding...”
“Hey, I’m sorry, man, I thought your friends here told you.” Clint shrugged. “Best way we’ve found to get the big guy to stay put long enough to calm down after a mission.”
Tony put in, “I didn’t think he could metabolize food, well, not separately.”
Bruce choked out, “And Steve, you’re okay with them getting the, uh, ‘big guy’ hooked on sugar like a, a toddler?”
“Well, once he doesn’t have a specific mission, he can get a little distracted, and it does help.”
“Oh, fine. Well, at least it’s not a mystery anymore. You all are feeding a force of destruction donuts for fun. Great, puzzle solved.” Bruce started out of the room.
Clint called after him, “Hey, we’re lucky that donuts work. I was beginning to think we were screwed once you couldn’t buy Twinkies anymore!”
Continuity: Marvel Cinematic Universe (Avengers)
Characters: Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark
Summary: Bruce is convinced there’s something wrong with that number...
Rating: G
Genre: Humor
Word Count: 435
Note: written for comicdrabbles Prompt #22 - Putting on Weight.
“I’m telling you, that’s impossible.”
Steve continued to hold out the clipboard calmly. “I was there, Bruce. It looked to me like everything went smoothly.”
Tony glanced over his shoulder at them. “You suspect some pretty young agent of putting her thumb on the scale?” Clint was sitting on the couch with Tony, watching some reality show, though Tony had been ostensibly working on a tablet.
Bruce snatched the clipboard out of Steve’s hands and stalked over to Tony. “You explain to me how a manifestation of radiation and rage can gain weight,” he spat out.
Tony drawled, “No worries, Brucie, it’s normal to let yourself go a little once you’re comfortable with who you are.”
“I didn’t gain weight, but the other guy did!”
Tony glanced past Bruce to Steve, who shrugged. “Huh.” Tony took the clipboard and began to look through the surprisingly comprehensive results from the Hulk’s official SHIELD physical. “I have to admit I’m grudgingly impressed by their devotion to paperwork.”
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned against the back of the couch. “It just, it doesn’t fit with anything else.”
Tony made a humming, thinking noise. “Gamma levels are normal, for you anyway, and I’m not seeing any other...” he flipped through the pages again, and switched back to his tablet to check a calculation.
Steve came up beside Bruce, and spoke tentatively. “This may be a silly question, but have you felt, I don’t know, angrier than usual?”
“It’s pretty hard to quantify.” Bruce blew out a frustrated breath.
Clint spoke up. “Or, you know, donuts.”
Bruce looked blank and Tony opened his mouth and then shut it again with a speculative look.
Clint muted the tv. “You didn’t know about the donuts?”
“You, you’ve been feeding...”
“Hey, I’m sorry, man, I thought your friends here told you.” Clint shrugged. “Best way we’ve found to get the big guy to stay put long enough to calm down after a mission.”
Tony put in, “I didn’t think he could metabolize food, well, not separately.”
Bruce choked out, “And Steve, you’re okay with them getting the, uh, ‘big guy’ hooked on sugar like a, a toddler?”
“Well, once he doesn’t have a specific mission, he can get a little distracted, and it does help.”
“Oh, fine. Well, at least it’s not a mystery anymore. You all are feeding a force of destruction donuts for fun. Great, puzzle solved.” Bruce started out of the room.
Clint called after him, “Hey, we’re lucky that donuts work. I was beginning to think we were screwed once you couldn’t buy Twinkies anymore!”