Chapter One
"What… What is this meant to be?"
"It looks like something died in your fry pan, Tony."
"SMELLS like it too."
"I thought it smelled more like motor oil, but maybe that's just me…"
"Is that… a tentacle?"
"Guys, leave him alone, at least he tried."
Steve smiled ruefully up at a significantly-more-blackened-than-usual Tony, who was carrying in his arms a large, smoking plate of what could only be identified as fossils from the late Carboniferous period. Dummy was following a few paces behind, chittering in a concerned sounding way and holding a fire extinguisher at the ready. Tony placed it in the middle of the dining table with an illustrious wave, red oven mitts making him vaguely resemble a lobster, and watched with an almost child-like pride for his team's reaction.
It wasn't a positive one.
...
This had all started a few days ago, during a shouting match between Natasha and Clint; it was always Natasha and Clint. Whether it was over movie choice, remote control rights, the automatic light system, or Clint's rights to wander naked through Stark Tower, they were always bickering over something. It was enough to drive anyone mad (and was also the reason that Bruce had a special lab allocated to him so that he could slink away and relax).
On this particular day, the fight had been over cooking rosters, and Tony had unwittingly been caught in the crossfire. Emerging from a 36 hour stint in the workshop, with engine grease smeared up his arms and his hair pushed back by a pair of flash goggles, he had stumbled out of the elevator looking like electrical death warmed up, muttering about caffeine and link circuitry when his senses were assaulted by a cacophony of Russian. Blinking and shaking his head, he noticed Natasha pointing angrily at him but still shouting at Clint.
"JARVIS, if you would be so kind as to translate this shit for me?" he said, his voice muddy and half asleep on his feet.
"Of course, sir. Would you like me to paraphrase?"
"God, yes."
"They seem to have been discussing Agent Romanov's lack of enthusiasm for cooking this evening. Clint is disgruntled, because he had to make dinner last night and was not allowed to order take out. You entered the conversation a few minutes ago, sir. Agent Romanov was saying that she should be allowed to order takeout, as you do every time you are allocated to a meal. They have switched to Korean. Would you like me to continue sir?"
"Yes, I would, JARVIS." There was a minute pause as JARVIS recalibrated his translation processors.
"Sir, Clint insists it's merely because you're incompetent, whereas Agent Romanov can, in fact, cook very well."
"Incompetent? He called me incompetent?"
"Yes, sir. My translator systems are the most advanced, by your own design. Would you like me to check again?"
"No, JARVIS, thank you. That will be all. Just get the coffee ready for me, please."
"Already done, sir. Just as you like it."
He brushed past the squabbling pair in the hallway without a second glance and listened as their foreign argument faded. Tony was offended, even in his current exhausted-genius state, but coffee came before proving others wrong at this point. At any point, really. He rubbed his eyes with the back of a filthy hand and pushed open the kitchen door, crash course set for the coffee pot.
"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrngh" he groaned in approval, leaning against the bench as he sculled straight from the coffee pot. His eyes closed and he leant his head back, rolling his stiff shoulders in appreciation of warm coffee and respite. He heard a quiet snigger.
"I see that our dear friend has emerged from the depths of his lair again. Just in time for movie night, too."
"Good morning to you too, Cap."
Tony rolled his head forward lazily and pried his eyes open. Steve was sitting across the bench, straight and tall and impeccably clean and dressed and nice smelling, or perhaps that was just the toast that Steve was buttering and the coffee finally taking effect in Tony's brain. Whatever it was, he was pretty sure that butter didn't normally smell like soap and peppermint. Oh well.
"What have you been working on down there, Tony? Flying cars?"
"Nah, Dad declared that a dead end in the seventies. Artificial intelligence, actually."
"Of course." He looked up at Tony with his ridiculously blue eyes, eyes that managed to sparkle IN THE DARK, a smile quirking at his lips as he raised a glass of orange juice. Damn that super serum. Tony leant forward, across the marble bench, and nonchalantly swiped a piece of toast.
"Oh no, go right ahead." Steve said, rolling his eyes. Tony took a bite.
"Fengs, Kep." He chewed, savoring the taste of fresh food in his mouth. Two minute noodles and decaf coffee (damn Pepper and her meddling with his stashes)from coffee cups of questionable hygienic quality was not a very balanced diet. At least, that's what all of the SHIELD reports tried to tell him. Damn meddling people. He looked around as the fog in his brain cleared. It was sunny, that much was clear. Obviously daytime, but he couldn't deduce much more than that.
"Cap, you don't mind me asking what the time is, do you?"
"Not at all. Go right ahead." He took another swig of orange juice, and then started.
"Oh. You meant me. Right. It's, um…" He lifted his sleeve, revealing his wrist and an old fashioned, ridiculously old fashioned, watch. Tony had offered several times to replace it with something that didn't require a daily wind up, that could tell him the date and month as well as the time, hell, could even check his vitals, but no, stubborn old Cap wanted to keep his eighty year old watch-
"It's ten to six in the morning." Tony spat his coffee across the counter.
"Are you kidding me? Cap, NO ONE should be awake at this hour. Except me. Wait, not even ME. How the hell are you so… so… bright eyed and bushy tailed?" He saw the quirk in the corner of Steve's mouth lift again out of the corner of his eye as he refilled the pot. He liked that he could make him smile. It made him feel warm inside. Like he belonged. Like he could actually be useful. Like he wasn't completely and totally-
"JARVIS?" Tony called.
"Yes, sir?" He was always glad when that impassive voice filled his ears.
"I need you to make a list of things for me. What are the normal ingredients you need for a family breakfast?"
"I shall find out and compile a list for you, sir."
"Thankyou, JARVIS."
"My pleasure, sir. Printing a list of necessary materials as we speak."
There was a whirring noise, and Steve jumped as what he had initially believed to be an air vent spewed paper. Tony ripped the page off the dispenser when it finally stopped whirring, scanned over the page, and then stuffed it in the back pocket of his admittedly filthy and VERY well fitting jeans. Steve would deny it if anyone were to ever say anything, but he had most certainly taken a good look at said back pocket area, and had most certainly had several very un-captainly thoughts cross his mind in regards to the removal of said pants before clearing his throat and asking.
"What are you planning, Stark?"
"Oh, nothing. Someone mentioned in Korean earlier that I couldn't cook and I figured I'd prove them wrong but that is completely unnecessary and irrelevant to you right now and I need to go to the shops so I'll be back later-"
"Oh-ho, no you don't, mister." Steve laughed and stepped in front of the semi-delirious Stark as he tried to make his way to the elevator. He bumped ineffectually against the super soldier's expansive chest and looked up blearily as the Captain set his strong hands on his shoulders and steered him towards the showers and his bed.
"I didn't understand the majority of what yo just said, but there is no way you are going out until you've at LEAST showered and slept for an hour." He paused."Or twelve."
"But why nooooot?" Tony whined, batting half heartedly at Steve's hands.
"Public image."
Tony scoffed.
"I think my ship has sailed on that particular topic, Cap."
"Doesn't matter. You're on a team now, and that means you look out for the team image too."
"Yes, mom…" They reached the clean white doors of the bathrooms and Steve marched him on through. He stood Tony by a heated towel rack, which he promptly lent his face and upper body on. He curled his body lovingly around it, coveting the warmth, letting it seep into his bones.
"Stay." Steve told him firmly whilst searching under the sink for towels. He pushed a fluffy white one with the Stark emblem on it into the weary mechanic's hands. Steve nudged him gently, coaxing him into standing up again.
"Get in the shower. Now. I'll go get you pajamas and then you, Stark, are going to bed. Or else."
Tony looked up at him, weak smile spreading across his features.
"Okay, Cap. Okay."
...
Tony Stark did indeed shower, and sleep, and sleep did him good. However, it did nothing for his fixation upon proving to a particular pair of SHIELD agents that he could indeed be useful. He eventually (with the help of a rather confused and reluctant Bruce) managed to go shopping for ingredients without Natasha or Clint finding out, which they both believed was an achievement in itself. However, after waking up an hour and a half earlier than usual on his allocated morning, approaching the kitchen like a man going to war, and having made seven attempts at a basic batch of scrambled eggs, he was forced to admit that sneaking food past two SHIELD operatives was going to be the easy part. If there was one thing he was glad he had brought with him, it was his blast goggles. He had never known how EXPLOSIVE basic cookery could be.
Which, of course, led up to the moment when Tony was watching his weird-ass adoptive family very closely, waiting for the much worked-for word of praise. It did not come. Steve couldn't bare the look of disappointment as Tony took in the barely-concealed revulsion of the people sitting next to him. Clint was having a muffled fit of hysterics, leaning precariously back in his chair, whilst Natasha was trying to remain as impassive as ever. Bruce had leant in closer, adjusting his glasses to peer at the cooking phenomenon before him, and Thor, oblivious of the culinary disaster on the table, simply smiled and began serving himself from the dishes.
"Many thanks to the man of iron for this morning feast!" He boomed, and even Steve cringed slightly as he shoveled a large lump of the substance into his mouth.
"I… I know it's not the BEST breakfast ever made…" Tony started quietly, wringing his bemittened hands together. God he was adorable.
"You're right. It's really not."
"Clint!"
"What?" He smiled at Natasha innocently, and rocked further back on his chair, foot balanced nonchalantly on the table.
"I don't know Tony. You remember those Sludge monsters? The ones Dr. Doom released in the sewers last month? Yeah, I reckon they'd think this is awesome." Bruce said with a small smile, and Clint gave him a thumbs up.
Steve could see Tony's levels of indignance rising rapidly. Still wearing the ridiculous red lobster gloves, the billionaire crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight to one hip. All in all, he was looking ready to slap down the next person to laugh over his valiant efforts. Time to step in, Steve thought to himself, and be damage control.
As usual.
"Thank you, Tony, this looks absolutely delicious," he started. He looked around at the assembled diners and begged them with his eyes to follow his lead.
"But do you know what I think we all need most to go with this meal? Bagels. Lots and… LOTS of bagels." They took the hint with much gusto. There was the sound of chairs being hastily pulled out and a flurry of movement as the team swept each other along the hall towards the tower's lifts, with cries and exclamations of a group field trip to collect bagels. Steve smiled at Tony, who seemed slightly stunned by the swiftness at which everyone had left.
"At least I tried," Tony said earnestly.
"I know you did."
"Cooking seems to be more of an art than a science."
"Indeed."
The captain extended a warm hand to him. Tony took it, questioning look in his eyes, but the captain merely smiled and pulled him towards the elevator.
"Let's get bagels before your delightful biohazard of a breakfast messes us up." He paused.
"Well, messes us up MORE." Steve smiled when he heard Tony's laugh behind him.
"Fine," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "JARVIS?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Get Dummy to throw away our leftovers."
"Of course, sir."
"Thankyou."
And so they headed down with the others, blissfully unaware of the chaos about to be unleashed upon their city.
...
A.N. Hi guys!
So this is my first ever attempt at writing an Avengers Fanfiction, and I have no idea whether it is any good. :) Please tell me your thoughts on this, on the fandom, whatever you want. ANYTHING avengers or Stony related would be awesome!
Also, a huge thank you to my dear friend Ema, who has an awesome blog thingie right here . She has put up with correcting and proofreading my writing and even with my fan art spamming her phone. THANKYOU EMA. XD