A/N: Just a quick little collection of drabbles of how Tony can't bake. And I felt the need to post something in the midst of my writer's block.
Captain America likes to make pies. Everyone said pies were boring, but Steve's apple pie a la mode shut them right up.
The Black Widow enjoys recipes that take some time, some precision. Nothing was too difficult, croissants, souffles, croquembouche, baklava. And it was generally calmer at Stark Towers when Natasha baked. Pissing her off meant no dessert.
Hawkeye will admit he likes to make brownies. If anyone questions it, he'll just say, "Hell yes I made them, you have a problem with that?" Or something like that. Clint doesn't like people who stereotype assassin-archer-spy men as people who can't make brownies.
The Hulk likes simple recipes. Recipes that remind him of a different time, maybe not happier, but different. When he helped people with his brain and skills more often than he did as a raging, green monster. They would wonder if he ordered out, Indian, Brazilian, or Thai, and Bruce would just smile.
Thor loves cookies. Any kind of cookies. And if he doesn't eat all the dough or the whole batch, the rest of his team would agree.
And Iron Man? Ask the Avengers and they'll all just laugh.
A lot. Maybe for an hour.
Tony cannot bake, cook, microwave, or boil water. Addendum to the last one: Tony can only boil water if and only if it involves making coffee. (Note that it's not the best coffee; Tony depends on Pepper, his teammates, or an AI for good coffee.)
However, Anthony Edward Stark is not easily deterred. He, to the complete and utter exasperation of the other Avengers, Pepper, Agent Coulson, and Director Fury (just to name a few), keeps trying.
Situation 1- Danger: Chemicals and Explosives
"Sir? I don't believe it's the best idea-"
Tony glared at the ceiling. "It's just a cake, Jarvis." The next day was Steve's birthday, and considering he was one of the few hadn't banned Tony from the kitchen, he wanted to make him a cake. Plus, his favorite local bakery was booked for some big Independence Day party.
"But considering your past experience, sir-"
"It's simple chemistry, my dear Jarvis," Tony said as he rummaged through the cabinets. What goes in a cake again? Eh, probably this, and this, ooh, and this looks good…
"But sir-"
"Jarvis, do I have to put you on mute?"
"..."
"Thank you." Tony, however, took a moment to reassess his AI's concern. "Make sure you're ready to call 911, Bruce, and/or Clint. Just in case."
"Thank you, sir."
As Tony looked at his ingredients, a fatal thought ran through his mind, It's just cake. What could possibly go wrong?
"Tony! What the, how the, what…" Clint Barton tried to create an actual question as he jumped around the kitchen, avoiding large, crumbling holes, small fires, and holes ringed with fire.
"Well, Jarvis tried calling Bruce first," Tony said, dancing on the countertop with the fire extinguisher, attempting to put out a variety of fires. "But he took one look at the kitchen, made a face, took a few deep breathes, and left. I presume he went to call someone about the floors."
Clint paused, standing on one foot, wondering how in the Nine Realms Tony got himself in these situations. "I thought it was agreed that all experiments would take place in your workshop or the lab."
Tony scoffed, "I was baking." Clint raised an eyebrow. "A cake. For Steve."
Clint sighed, leaping over a particularly large hole to pat Tony on the leg (since Tony was still standing on the counter like a forlorn child). "I'm sure he'll appreciate the thought. Now, don't you have some construction bots?"
Before Tony could say anything, Bruce floated into the kitchen on a bright red drone. "I found them trying to clean up Tony's workshop. Again."
As the other bots flew in and set to the work, Clint asked, "How the hell did you manage do that much damage making a cake, Stark?"
"A few words, since I can't be bothered to count them: not knowing ingredients, creating a super-strong, somehow combustible acid, and we need a new electric mixer." Tony shrugged, pointing at the melted, black mess next to a series of holes and scorch marks.
His two teammates sighed. As Clint went to go ride and/or annoy a few construction bots, Bruce surveyed the damage again and said, "No more baking, Tony."
With a devious smile, Tony held up a hand. "Scout's honor."
Situation 2- Tony's a Better Engineer and Mechanic than a Baker (Part 1)
"Jarvis! I want peanut brittle. Nat makes good peanut brittle. Do you know where she is?" Tony felt whiny. Very whiny.
"Sir, Ms. Romanoff is on a 'business trip'."
Tony sighed in defeat, knowing that no one's peanut brittle beats the Black Widow's. He was pretty sure she put some sort of secret ingredient or chemical to make it addictive. However, he perked up at a thought.
Natasha and Clint were on a mission. Steve was at the art museum (after having muttered that he couldn't get any peace or quiet at the tower). Bruce was off doctoring, and Thor was either grocery shopping or hanging out with Jane. Now that he thought of it, Tony didn't really know where Thor went. He could be flying around in the sky talking to sea gulls or something. But this was not the point of his mental rambling.
In short, no one was at the tower. He could actually enter the kitchen without people scrutinizing his every move.
"That's okay, Jarv. I'll go make some myself."
If Jarvis had a physical body, he would have sighed and forced Tony to stay in the workshop. Unfortunately, he had only logic, common sense, and a voice. "Sir, I do not believe that is the best of ideas."
"Jarv. It's peanut brittle. Candy. What could possibly go wrong?"
"Jarvis?"
"Yes, Captain Rogers?"
"None of the kitchen appliances seem to be… working properly, per se."
"I do not understand, Captain."
"Just, just watch."
Steve walked over to the fridge and opened it. It began to belt out something from Carmen. He walked over to the oven and attempted to set the temperature to 350°F. It made a series of beeping noises and the words, "Say Please, Steve" ran across the digital interface. He put a slice of bread in the toaster. Two seconds later, they popped out as if out of a cannon, hitting the ceiling and burnt black.
The dishwasher played dance tunes in time to its cycle. The blender only liked to puree things. The toaster oven only turned on if it wasn't plugged in, and even then it was more likely to set things on fire. Steve was also pretty sure the microwave actually made things radioactive, since the popcorn he put in was glowing a pretty shade of blue.
All Jarvis could say was, "Oh."
As Tony saw his team approach him later that day, a few with scorch marks and Thor happily munching on a bunch of glowing popcorn, he groaned loudly. "I admit it! I can't make peanut brittle."
Steve pointed to Thor's popcorn in accusation. Tony shrugged. "I thought the kitchen could use a few… upgrades."
"Upgrades?" Steve asked, flabbergasted. "Tony, we can't use any of the appliances!"
Tony cocked his head. "Did any of them start playing music? Or set anything on fire?" He looked at the scorch marks on Clint's shirt. "Okay, I assume they did. I was hoping I remembered to code…" Tony trailed off, muttering.
"To code what?" Steve raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, that they're only supposed to mess with Clint."
("Hey!")
"'They're'? Tony, did you-"
"Yes. Our entire kitchen now consists of AIs!"
Like a well-rehearsed chorus, the Avengers (minus a smirking Stark) groaned.
Situation 3- Tony's a Better Engineer and Mechanic than a Baker (Part 2)
"Everyone has to bring something, Stark. And you're on cupcakes."
Tony scowled at the voice over the phone. "So why can't I order them, Agent?"
"You know, everyone else recognizes my name is Phil."
"I'm not everyone else. And I recognize your name. It's Agent."
Phil sighed. "It a SHIELD event, Stark. We only allow homemade dishes and pastries due to that fiasco from three years ago."
"You know, I was never debriefed on that."
"You can find out about it after you make the cupcakes and come to event."
"But-" The dial tone echoed in Tony's ear. "I can't bake."
"Wait, I thought Tony was in the workshop all day," Clint whispered to Natasha.
"He was."
Tony had strolled into the room, with a tray of mini cupcakes in each hand. To the surprise of the other Avengers, they looked quite… beautiful. And scrumptious. The white frosting swirls were exact and delicate, the sprinkles placed evenly, the cake itself looked moist and, well, edible.
The Avengers' handler approached the man with a smile. "You made it. And these look great."
Tony smiled back. "They better. They took me all day to make."
"Just set them down on the table there and we'll get to them soon."
As Tony listened to the beeping monitor in medical, he decided that SHIELD agents just didn't have a sense of humor. Or that maybe he just had horrible timing. He also decided that SHIELD directors were mean and opportunists.
It was a joke. And he really wanted to know what happened three years ago. So he spent all day in his workshop, crafting cupcakes.
Well, androids that looked like cupcakes.
Of course, he hadn't been anticipating the copious amounts of screaming and gunshots. Geez, SHIELD agents needed to go on some sort of relaxing retreat. Or at least group yoga lessons. Group therapy would be better, Tony mused.
Tony, of course, had been caught in the crossfire, trying to protect his precious bots. A few bullets had grazed him. He was lucky to escape with his life, to quote, well, everyone.
Steve advised him to stay away from SHIELD for a while. Some agents were holding a grudge against Tony. Those agents need a sense of humor, Tony thought. As he remembered the looks on Clint and Natasha's face, he laughed. So worth it. I don't even need to go to SHIELD or work. Of course, I need to make at least a thousand more of those little buggers…
SHIELD directors were mean and opportunists. Fury had chewed him out and then "requested" that Tony make him more. As spy drones. 'Since everyone loves cupcakes.' What is Fury on?
Of course, Tony had to make a couple dozen more. For the tower. He loved the little things and to see his teammate's faces when they found them…Tony laughed again.
Situation 4- Tony Makes Better Bakers
"Did you make these irresistibly scrumptious cookies?" Tony squinted at Thor, Clint and Steve trailing behind, munching on chocolate chip cookies, the melting chips staining their hands.
Thor shook his head, confused. "No. I did not. May I try one?" Tony looked at him warily before handing him one. Thor smiled after he bit into the cookie.
"Who baked this ambrosia?" he boomed, motioning for another. Tony gave him half. Thor frowned.
Tony shrugged. "I'm running out. And I don't know who baked these. That's why I'm asking. It's not you, Clint, or Cap. Nat's been out plotting with Pepper about my demise (shhh, Steve, they are!), Bruce has been in his lab all day…" He sat next to Thor on the couch, utterly confused. "Who…"
"Sir? I believe you'll find the culprits in the kitchen."
"What the… How… Who let you out of the workshop?" Tony stared at the sight before him. Three fairly large robots crowding in his kitchen. Washing their appendages. Prepping to make another batch of cookies.
"It seems Ms. Romanoff let's them roam about from time to time."
"I knew she was plotting my demise," Tony muttered.
"They like the kitchen. Especially with the latest upgrades." Tony was wondering when the AI kitchen would completely backfire on him.
Thor, Clint, and Steve's eyes widened when they saw the robots, usually covered with oil and other hazardous chemicals, making the cookies. They stared at their cookies. Then the bots. Back at the cookies.
Then they burst out laughing.
Tony turned toward the traitors. "What's so funny? My robots are making cookies. They are some of the peaks of today's technology and they want to go to the kitchen and bake! I did not-"
Clint managed to interrupt Tony's rant, choking out, "You… can't… even… make good… coffee… But your robots… are really good… bakers!"
Tony stuck out his tongue before sauntering over to the counter and snatching some cookie dough. Dummy pushed Tony's hand away. "Hey, I made you. I get all the cookie dough I want." Dummy pushed it away again, with more force. "I will donate you to a city college, I swear."
Tony wondered where his cupcake bots were and how he could use them in his plot for vengeance as his teammates continued to laugh and his robots make cookies.
Situation 5- It's Easier to Break Science Than to Bake (aka: When Tony Gave Up Baking)
"Tony, did you take my pie?" Steve stood in front of the tinkering engineer, arms crossed.
Tony, indignant and covered in oil stains, replied, "No, I did not. Did you check with more likely culprits, like Clint or Thor?"
"Yes, and no, they did not take it." He eyed Tony suspiciously.
Tony threw his arms up, insulted. "Hey! I didn't take it. Did you ask Jarvis for surveillance footage?"
Steve cocked his head. "Surveillance? In the kitchen?"
"Hey, Jarvis needs eyes. I also want to prevent food thievery and catch whoever tries to poison me in the future."
Steve rolled his eyes. "Can you bring up the footage?"
"Sure. Jarvis?" An image popped up in front of the pair. "Go back to when Steve put the pie in the oven and fast forward." Flickers of boredom and then bewilderment traveled across the pair's face as no one had even entered the room.
"Okay, either we have some hungry wizards or something is wrong with the oven," Tony said as he approached the elevator.
"What could be wrong with the oven that a whole pie disappears?"
"Oh, you know, disintegrates it, sends it to another dimension…"
"Tony, I thought you fixed all the appliances."
"I may have missed a few."
"Tony!"
"Hey, what's this?" Tony pulled a piece of parchment from the oven. "'Thank you, Mrs. Smith for the pie. It was a treat. Yours, Benjamin Franklin.'" Tony stared at the note. And then at Steve. And then the note once more before he jumped up and starting cheering and dancing.
"I'm not a baker! I'm a scientist! I'm the Doctor! I'm amazing! I'm…"
"What? Where's my pie?" Steve was dismayed, concerned, amused, and completely and utterly confused.
While attempting a jig, Tony said, "In the stomach of Benjamin Franklin. Because I made a wormhole to the eighteenth century in the oven. Okay, I can't dance." Tony leaned on the super soldier for support as he panted.
Steve laughed. "Yeah, you can't. But can you fix the oven?"
Tony pouted. "But Steve! It's a wormhole! It's mine! It's science!"
"Go make one in your workshop. I need the oven. And you want pie."
"Fine."