Steve strolled into the kitchen at precisely 6:15 in the morning as he always did. His routine was well established: he would wake up at five in the morning and go for a run until 5:55, where he returned home and showered. Breakfast began at 6:15, and ended around 6:45, as he generally enjoyed a lazier breakfast accompanied by reading the paper. The routine offered him comfort in a way. Each day, he knew what to expect… to an extent. There was always things one couldn't anticipate, especially living amongst an Asgardian god, two master assassins, a self-proclaimed genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist, and, as Tony so eloquently put it, an "enormous green rage monster."
This seemed to be one of those days that the routine would be thrown off, because when Steve entered the kitchen that particular morning, he wasn't alone as he usually was. There, seated at the table looking very disgruntled, was one Tony Stark. Steve drew up short.
"Tony? What are you doing up?" When Steve had come to live at the tower, Tony had given him three rules to abide by. The first was to never touch the coffee or tea machines. The only time Steve had ever observed the breaking of that rule (when Clint had accidentally knocked over the tea machine and broken it) Bruce had gotten a little angry. Thus the two million dollars in property damage a highly peeved Tony had paid that afternoon.
The second rule was to never go into Tony's workshop, and the third was to never wake him up before eleven a.m. unless the world was ending. Steve glanced around the kitchen just to be sure that it wasn't before returning his attention to Tony.
"And what the hell are you eating?" Steve demanded. Tony peered up at him with bleary dark eyes, looking vaguely confused. Then his gaze cleared somewhat, and he gestured with his fork to the cake on his plate.
"Cake," he replied simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for Tony Stark to be awake at six a.m. eating dessert.
"Why?" Steve was bewildered, and wondered if he was hallucinating.
"I wanted cake," Tony explained in a kind of duh voice. Steve ran a hand through his still-damp hair, and sighed.
"But its breakfast," he said, exasperated.
"I do what I want!" Tony proclaimed, sternly shaking his fork at Steve. Despite himself, Steve couldn't help but laugh. He had never seen Tony like this before. His dark hair was ruffled up around his head, and he wore only a t-shirt and boxers. It severely contrasted with his usual appearance, which was carefully styled hair and suits. Honestly, it was kind of adorable.
"You need to eat healthier, Tony," Steve admonished. Tony smirked sleepily.
"Do you see these pecs, Stevie? I eat just fine, fuck you very much." And with that, he finished the last of his cake and stood, putting the dish in the sink. Steve was still in shock. Tony was up before eleven and he took care of his dishes? Definitely hallucinating, Steve confirmed to himself.
"Why are you even awake this early?" Steve asked.
"Because," Tony said, "I do what I want." He turned on his heel and left the kitchen.
The next morning, Tony stumbled into the kitchen at eleven a.m. in search of some leftover cake, but a plate was thrust into his hands before he even made it to the fridge. He glanced up, confused, at an overly cheerful Steve Rogers. He glanced back down at the plate of eggs and toast, then back up at Steve.
"What is this?" he asked, bewildered. Steve smiled at him.
"Eggs and toast," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for Steve Rogers to be making him breakfast, and a healthy one at that.
"Why?" Tony asked, and he wondered if maybe he had gotten hit in the head and his IQ had fallen a few points, because he wasn't comprehending anything.
"Because I wanted to make you eggs and toast," Steve replied, as if it should have been obvious. Tony just stared at him with wide eyes. Nobody had ever made him breakfast before besides Jarvis and Pepper, the former out of obligation, the latter out of love. Tony wondered why Steve felt obligated to make him food.
"I was going to eat cake. You didn't need to do that," Tony said carefully.
"I do what I want," Steve replied, somewhat smugly. Tony narrowed his eyes as he realized exactly what the Cap was pulling.
"That's my line!" he cried indignantly, and Steve just smiled at him, which was temporarily blinding.
"Let me know when you Trademark that, Tony. Until then, shut up and eat your healthy breakfast," Steve replied calmly, and turned back to the stove, wearing an apron. Tony gaped at him for several seconds before he rediscovered how to speak.
"How the hell do you even know what a Trademark is?!" Tony accused. "And why are you wearing an apron?"
"Because," Steve returned, and Tony could hear the smile in his voice, "I do what I want."
