Hi, everyone! So this is a short Avengers fic that I wrote in response to a really interesting post on tumblr about the differences Tony and Steve (and their respective eras) have regarding defense strategy and conceptions of war. This takes place shortly after the Loki mess. I apologise if I got any Marvel-verse details wrong! Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Much love!

—

"JARVIS, I'm not joking around. I need a cupcake recipe now. One that doesn't involve strawberries."

Steve tried his best to stifle his laugh as he leaned against the doorframe. He had been sent down to Tony's lab but had gotten too distracted by Tony himself. He still wasn't sure what he thought of the famous Iron Man.

"Hey, Stars and Stripes, didn't anyone tell you? No one's allowed down here when I'm working." Steve was caught off guard when Tony called out while not taking his gaze away from his project. He walked toward him, a nervous smile on his face.

"Um, Pepper sent me down to make sure you were heading up to the meeting. Said something about being sure she couldn't come down here herself."

Tony grunted, his back still turned toward Steve. "So... from Iron Man to Iron Cupcakes? Am I seeing the latest from Stark Industry?"

Tony scowled, turning around to threateningly extend an arm before realising the weapon being held by the hand was a whisk. Steve raised an eyebrow at it. "I may have... accidentally... forgotten to pick up something for Pepper's birthday."

Steve laughed, starting to walk around the lab unconsciously, reaching out a finger to touch a new piece of tech on the wall.

"Oy, looking's for free, but touching's-no, actually, don't even look."

Deciding against asking where that reference came from, Steve continued to look around and noticed the slightly dusty portrait (the only thing in that condition throughout the lab) tacked up against the wall.

"The old man. Hear you may have heard of him?" Tony said, smirking.

Steve nodded. "Your dad gave me the best thing that's ever happened to me. Without him I'd probably still be some scrawny little kid getting beat up in alleys in Brooklyn."

"My Dad used you as an experiment," Tony corrected, heading back to working on his recipe. "For technology he didn't even know worked. JARVIS," Tony instructed up to the computer. A beer came up from one of the many hidden draws in the desk and Tony took a large swig out of it. "There are laws against that now, you know. Probably were back then too. You were a kid. You didn't know what you were doing. My father took advantage of you."

"I knew exactly what I was doing, Tony. Your father helped a lot of people out. You should be proud of him."

Tony continued his work mixing ingredients together as he took another drink. "Yeah, stand up guy, ol' Howie. training a bunch of murderers."

Steve tensed. "Don't ever call us that."

"Why? Don't like being called what you are?" Tony didn't look up as he spoke. "We dress it up with nice words like 'freedom' and 'justice' and 'bravery', but at the end of the day what are you really? Just a bunch of hired killers, exactly what you think whatever manufactured enemy you're fighting now is."

Steve's eyes darkened. "Don't you dare say that. I know things may be different now and those may just be nice words to you, Tony, but to some of us they're still real." Steve's chest puffed out and he felt himself getting angrier as the words were drawn out of him. "The bravest men I've ever known have died fighting for them. Just so that miserable, heartless cowards like you could stand here insulting them."

"Well at least I know what I am. The world's not so different-it's never as simple as they try to sell it to you and at the end of the day those are always humans you're killing, doesn't matter what flag's shoved up your-"

Steve's face grew red. "Enough. I've watched men die out there, Tony. My friends."

Tony turned to face Steve, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the work bench. "That's just fantastic. For what? Because they were too thick to see the greater scheme they were part of?"

Steve shoved Tony against the bench, a hand at his throat. Tony laughed. "Going to beat me up, Cap? Come on, try. Give me a good one, right here." Tony turned an exposed cheek toward Steve, pointing to it as he did. "Just like a real man, right, Steve-o? Give any idiot some muscles and a gun and suddenly he's a hero."

Steve let go of Tony, pushing him into the bench with more force than was strictly necessary. "I'm not going to beat you up, Tony. I'm not like that. Ever wonder why you're stuck here all by yourself and why no one else can stand to be around you other than Pepper? It's not because you're some lonely, misunderstood lone ranger—it's because you have no respect for anyone but yourself. Try doing us all a favour and actually putting some of that self-hate toward yourself for a change. You'll never be like your Dad. Because all you care about is yourself."

Tony stared back at Steve, holding the gaze with an equal amount of anger.

"Everything okay in here, boys?" The door slid open as Pepper walked into the lab, her heels clicking behind her.

Steve straightened up. "Yes ma'am. No trouble here," he said, glaring at Tony.

Pepper smiled. "Steve, I know I told you that you don't have to call me ma'am."

Steve grinned. "I guess it's just what I'm used to—showing people respect and defending them even when I don't need to."

Pepper nodded, an eyebrow raised suspiciously. "Uh huh. And you two were... baking?" she asked, pointing toward the assortment of flour, baking powder, water, and oil left out on Tony's workbench.

"Yeah," Tony said, throwing an arm around Steve's shoulder and clapping it against his back, "Good bonding and whatnot, good for the Inititive, you know?"

Pepper looked between them, inclining her head suspiciously. "Whatever it is, I'm not getting into it. Meeting. Half an hour. Be there, both of you."