"Friday, how long until Tony gets home?"
"Approximately 57 minutes, Captain."
"Great. Thank you Friday!" Steve walked into the kitchen and started to search the cabinets for ingredients. As he gathered his cooking supplies, he suddenly was overcome by the realization of where he was.
His mind flashed back to all the meals he wasn't allowed to eat. All the times he had to make dinner, do the dishes (despite having a dishwasher), or how the bland protein bars were the only thing he was allowed to eat for days.
Or how he got to the point were he felt guilty for eating.
Steve shook his head. "Not the time." He whispered out loud.
"Friday? Do we happen to have any fresh bread or can I pick it up somewhere near here?"
"Captain, you can have it delivered."
"Really?" Steve sucked in a deep breath. "Yeah can you get me a warm loaf of French bread please?"
"Of course sir."
Steve nodded, then turned back to the cabinets, grabbing a large pot, and an oven safe serving bowl. He set the oven to the correct temperature, and got to work making dinner. As the water boiled, he brought a small table out onto the balcony, spread a tablecloth over it, and went back to the kitchen to check the water.
Steve dumped the pasta in, and set the timer. Leaving the top off the pot, Steve grabbed two plates, to spoons, two forks, and two butter knives. He set them out onto the table, then went back to check on the pasta. While he waited, Steve gathered the rest of his ingredients and got everything prepared so he wouldn't have to hurry.
Once everything was in the oven and the timer was set, Steve ran into the elevator, to the floor where a business dinner would be held. He searched through any compartments he could find in the larger kitchen, finally stopping when he found the cloth napkins delicately folded and neatly put away. He took two, and before heading upstairs, he took two wine glasses, as well as two champagne glasses.
Steve finished setting up the table. He placed the napkins down, as well as arranged the glasses to look proper. He went back to the lower floor, grabbing a clean bucket, a glass pitcher for water, and (after a bit of searching) a bunch of candles so he could pick the ones he liked on the table. Upon returning to the kitchen, Steve made perfect time as the timer went off right as he walked in. He set down the items, and took the meal out of the oven.
"Sir. I must inform you that your order has arrived and is currently in the lobby." The voice boomed over the overhead speakers.
"Thanks Friday."
"Also, I believe that you'd like to know that Sir will be arriving in approximately five minutes."
"Uh- Thanks." Steve started to panic. He pulled the mac and cheese out of the oven, added the finishing touches, then carried it to the small table he had set up. He covered it, then ran back inside. HE rushed to fill the pitcher with water, and the bucket with ice. He set them both outside, and rushed to the bar.
"Friday?" Steve was searching through all the different types of alcohol. "Could someone bring the bread up please?"
"Of course."
"How long do I have?"
"There was a sudden onset of traffic leaving you with approximately five minuets still."
"Fantastic." Steve muttered, partially because he had more time, but also because he found the expensive champagne he was saving for a special occasion. He set it down on the bar.
"Captain, sir?" The elevator opened, and on of the interns from Stark Industries stood there holding a bag from Steve favorite bakery.
"Oh, thank you..." He trailed off, forgetting her name, but not wanting to be rude.
"Kathy. And let me know if there's anything else I can do to help." She smiled and nodded, letting the elevator doors close between them.
Steve set the bread down on the counter, and cut a few pieces, placing them on a rectangular plate and set them outside as well as putting the champagne in the ice bucket. He looked at the table and smiled. He really hoped Tony would like it.
Steve looked at the time, and ran to the elevator. He went to his floor, into his closet and swiftly looked threw the little clothes he was normally allowed to pick from. He settled on a light blue shirt, and a neutral brown pair of pants.
Steve went back to the balcony, double checked everything, then stood in front of the elevator waiting. When the doors started to open, Steve smiled. His eyes crinkled as he couldn't contain the excitement he had.
"Tony!" Steve stepped toward the doors, "I made us dinner out on the balcony and I-"
"Let me get in the door before you start annoying me." Tony walked right by him.
"W-What?" Steve felt horrible. Embarrassed, ashamed, small, and heartbroken.
"Steve. You've been home for less then a day and you're already pissing me off." Tony went to the bar and pulled out an almost empty bottle of brandy. He drank straight from the bottle.
"But- I- made us dinner. And I set up a table so we could eat together." Steve sounded quiet and meek, afraid.
"That's pretty pathetic, even for you Rogers."
When Tony walked by, Steve froze. "Have you been drinking? I thought you went to a therapist?"
"Yeah. Her name is Tiana. She's got long black hair, a nice ass, and is my bartender."