Work Text:
The funny thing about grocery shopping is that no matter what store you go to or what town or state you’re in, there’s always those carts that just suck. The ones that are missing the buckles in the baby seat. The uneven basket where someone hit it in the parking lot. The tires that raddled so violently, it’s a wonder they haven’t fell off.
It doesn’t matter how many times you check the cart at the front of the store, by the time you’re checking out you’ll have found at least one thing wrong with the cart.
Eddie tried, okay? He made sure none of the wheels looked janky, he did a push test, he even made sure the baby seat would pop out without jamming. But the squeak coming from the bottom of the cart was taunting him.
It was his job to pick the cart. He tried to change his role, but the bananas he grabbed were too bruised, the can was dented, the list was illegible. Who knew picking out food was so tedious?
That’s why Steve was in charge of their grocery trips. His handwriting was neat, he knew when tomatoes were ripe enough, and he knew what would be going on sale soon.
Currently, Eddie was watching Steve check the expiration date on a box of macaroni. Dates didn’t matter much to the Munson’s, it would be eaten before it could go bad anyways. Steve had to explain that unfortunately not every store “rotated” their stock correctly, after Eddie had come home with a can of tomato sauce that was two years outdated.
“Passed the test?” Eddie teased, grinning while Steve placed three of the boxes in the cart.
“Keep on. You’ll thank me when you don’t die of food poisoning.” Steve sassed, one hand on his hip and the other clutching their comically large list.
The thing about grocery lists is that normally you write down what you need for the week, or however long until your next trip. Sometimes you mark something down as you throw the old container away. Or it could just be stuff that gets used so often it ends up on the list every time.
Not Steve’s list. Oh no, he is very thorough with his lists. The party may make Steve out to be this stupid jock, just the brawn of the group. But Eddie has seen the silent intelligence the other man possesses.
Steve may not be the best at math, he might not be able to finish a rubix cube, but he could take a stack of paperwork and have it filed down to the tiniest detail within a couple of hours. He was a genius at organization, Eddie suspects that’s why he refuses to leave Family Video.
Steve’s grocery lists are so very detailed, down to the brand and sizes they need, exactly how many sticks of butter they would need before the next trip. And the craziest part of all, was the fact that he was correct every single time. This morning they had cooked the last four eggs, drank the last two glasses of orange juice, and pulled out the last trash bag in the box.
The thing that took Eddie longer to understand was that they always had double of what they needed. With the none cold stuff, that is. Every time they got home, they unloaded all the groceries, and then Steve would start organizing. All the new food would be pushed into the back of the pantry, behind the older ones.
Their pantry was like a mini grocery store, they never had just one can of corn, or one taco kit box. At least double of everything, some stuff had more depending on how often they ate it.
Eddie had asked him about it once, about a month after they moved in together. Steve played it off, better to have too much than too little, right?
But Eddie suspects it has to do with growing up in a home that didn’t always have enough food. He can understand that, before uncle Wayne took him in there was a lot of days he went without a meal.
Steve always made sure they had enough, every time he cooked there would be enough for leftovers. They usually used those for work lunches, or midnight snacks. All the members of the party had a section in the pantry, for their choice of snacks and their favorite meals.
Steve was a provider, he liked to cook for everyone, he made sure everyone had a drawer of clothes in the spare room. Stacks of movies and music they didn’t watch or listen to were in the living room, toothbrushes in the spare bathroom, shoes too small lined by the front door.
He would make an amazing father someday.
That was something they talked about often, both afraid of becoming their father, but excited at the thought of having their own child. Someone they could raise, in ways they weren’t.
Eddie wouldn’t bring it up, but he knew Steve already had little lists and plans written out for their future. What their day to day schedules might look like, extension plans for the house, each baby milestone.
Fake grocery lists were written, with new things like baby formula, diapers, and bibs added in. Tiny doodles of curly headed cherubs in the margins.
Even if it was just for pretend, it made Eddie’s heart swell. The thought of Steve sitting at his desk, squinting through his glasses, scribbling out little details of what the children might want added to the pantry. What Disney movies will be added to the collection.
Will their kids like Lord of the Rings, or Diary of a Wimpy Kid? Would they prefer Cap’n Crunch, or Cookie Crisp?
Would their hair be easily tamed into a perfect mess upon their head, or would it fan out in a chaos of curls?
Would they be a bard or a paladin?