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Unlikely Housemates
By: Syntyche
Day Two: Techno Breakfast
Steve Rogers felt like he should be proud of himself. He had, he thought, very sensibly pointed out that since the six of them were capable, fully-functioning adults, they really didn't need cooks and housekeepers and people waiting on them hand and foot. If you were big enough to save the world, Steve reasoned, you were big enough to separate your own whites and darks.
Tony had eventually capitulated, but only under the condition that he was allowed to design a chore wheel so they would all have a fair share of work to do. Oddly enough, Tony's name slot on the chart was very extremely tiny, meaning he had only about a 5% chance of actually being assigned any chores, while Steve's name showed up on every other slot, giving him 50% of the chart while their other four teammates took 10% each and 5% was assigned to 'Dummy', which Steve wondered worriedly if that was supposed to be him also.
Tony had also thought it was extremely clever to make the chore wheel look like Steve's shield, only it was made out of cardboard instead of vibranium.
Steve had drawn breakfast for their second day in the tower, along with Thor. Natasha and Pepper (who didn't have a slot on the chart since she was already occupied with being the CEO of Stark Industries, plus keeping Tony busy was like a second full-time job) had tried to nominate Clint for all-time cook, but the archer had snippily pointed out that just because he had one time gone undercover as a chef didn't mean he was going to cook for them all the time, thanks very much. Clint had strengthened his case by adding that just because he'd also once gone undercover as the team leader of an Army EOD unit, that didn't mean they wanted him to just go around trying to defuse bombs, did they? Well, did they? The other Avengers had reluctantly agreed, and cooking meals was added to the chore wheel, and consequently assigned to Steve and Thor for this morning.
The problem was, neither of them really knew how to cook at all, let alone in a kitchen as monstrous and high-tech as Tony's. So it wasn't going very well.
At the moment, Steve was peering at a small device sitting compliantly on the countertop, whirring quietly and waiting patiently to be used. Stark had specifically included this machine as a breakfast essential, and Steve was determined that his breakfast would not be found wanting by any of his team.
"What is it?" the soldier asked helplessly, glaring with all the intensity Captain America would muster if he were assessing a particularly hostile situation. There were a lot of buttons. And some knobs. And a few spouts.
Thor shrugged; he'd found his promised Pop Tart cabinet and had become essentially useless after that. Now he sat with his booted feet up on the table as he chugged cherry Pop Tarts like he was going for a world record; at Steve's frustrated look, however, he sighed gustily and lumbered over to Steve's side. He looked intently at the machine for a second, then stabbed a long finger at one of the buttons decisively. The machine hummed and whirred and began to spit steam from a nozzle. Thor sputtered and jumped back, wiping his face on his sleeveless arm.
"Surely this foul device caters only to the lowest bilge snipe!" he announced disdainfully, with just a trace of glee in his voice: bilge snipe had become one of Thor's favorite phrases since he'd discovered it was by far one of his easiest Asgardian references to explain, and also he could flex his muscles while indicating their antlers. Now Tony was a bilge snipe if he left his laundry lying around, and Steve was a bilge snipe if he ate the last of the Cool Ranch Doritos.
And it had only been one day.
"I shall fix this with the Might of Thor!" the demigod announced grandly, and from somewhere Mjolner came whistling through the air, nearly taking out Bruce as he wandered to the bathroom; Thor caught the hammer deftly and proceeded to send a jolt of lightening directly into the offending machine, which crackled and sparked but somehow still failed to produce whatever its intended purpose was.
"Oh," said Thor. "Perhaps that was not my best idea."
Clint wandered in, blinking and yawning and scratching his hair, sending sandy spikes sticking out here and there. He looked so … unfearsome … and normal, it was strange. Then he stretched to snag a plate from the cupboard and Steve saw the handgun tucked into the waist of his pajama pants.
"Morning," Clint mumbled, looking at the two men hunched helplessly over the small, smoking machine in the corner and a furrow crossed his face; he opted to ignore them completely and went instead to the tiny, un-fancy coffee maker tucked away on the counter's edge to start a pot of black coffee.
"Good morning, tiny and valiant archer!" Thor boomed cheerfully, Steve nodded a distracted greeting as he pressed another button and got nothing good for his efforts, just a crackle of electricity that jolted through his fingertip. "This is ridiculous!" he finally exploded. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
Clint gave him an odd look and plodded over to press a tiny button in the center of the machine. The machine hissed and whirred and after a moment fragrant dark coffee began to pour into the waiting pot.
"Ta da," Clint said dryly. "Espresso."
"Well done, tiny archer!" Thor congratulated warmly, as if Clint had just done something amazing. Clint sighed out a "please stop calling me that," and retrieved his now-full coffee pot, dumping cream and sugar directly into the pot and swirling it around before slowly sipping appreciatively.
Steve frowned. Apparently Clint didn't believe in either sharing, or coffee mugs. "I think the chore wheel was a bad idea," he admitted.
"Nah, it's cool," Clint replied, glancing at the offending object by the far wall, looking for his name. "In fact today I get to 'swab the deck.' What the hell?" He moved through the pile of discarded Pop Tart wrappers littering the floor to closer study the tiny scribbled drawing of a pirate ship decorating his slice of the chore pie, then swiped a pencil from the jar on the countertop and busied himself changing the 'e' in 'deck' to an 'i'.
Tony strolled in, looking pleased with himself as always, but his smug demeanor faded slightly when he took in the crispy, wheezing espresso machine, and the fact that Clint was gleefully adding letters to the chore wheel to make all of Tony's carefully thought-up tasks into something dirty.
Thor was rummaging through the fridge. "Do not trouble yourself, Captain of America! I shall make fluggernuggets for break of fast and we shall revel in their magnificent strength-providing nutrients while we regale each other with tales of our glorious pasts!"
Clint and Steve shared a look. Somehow 'carnie' and '90-pound-weakling' probably weren't the epic stories Thor was looking for.
Steve, being Steve, mustered a warmly encouraging smile. "That's great, Thor. How can I help?"
Thor was glaring at the refrigerator like its contents had personally wronged him; apparently Tony hadn't stocked up on Asgardian groceries lately. "Where are the Grobenschnauff heads?" he demanded.
Steve frowned.
"… Ask Tony."
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Totally awesome kudos to Bibliophile109 for the idea of Thor cooking and the Grobenschnauff heads! And to Ceeuu for !TechnologicallyIlliterate Steve and Thor, of which there will be more upcoming. :D I love goofy Thor, he's ridiculous.
Next: Tony's bad spelling catches up with him…