Steve was just finishing up with his instructor in the gym. He was a bit distracted, earning him a tough heel across his jaw. He was off balance enough that the light tap sent him sprawling in a most comical fashion across the mat. The instructor looked at Captain America lying on the ground, and then peered closely at his foot, looking for signs of new found superhuman strength.

As Steve picked himself up, his mind wandered back to the morning's events.
He'd been woken up earlier that morning, by Jarvis chiming in softly on the intercom.
"My apology for the early wakeup call sir," Jarvis toned, "but Mr. Stark is hoping you would join him in the kitchen."
Steve had paused in the act of rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and then shrugged, having been too sleepy to care.
"Sure thing Jarvis, tell him I'll be right there."

He'd pushed the blanket off his legs and swung out to sit on the edge of the bed. Stretching his shoulders, he yawned, wondering what Stark wanted. Clad only in a pair of red boxer briefs, Steve had padded slowly to the bathroom, washing his face with cold water, and swilling some mouth wash. Hoping that the morning wouldn't begin with a major argument, he slipped into his clothes, and walked barefoot towards the kitchen.

As he'd entered, he was assailed by the scent of breakfast foods. Stark stood at the sink, his back to the doorway and on the kitchen table was an impressive array of food. There was a large bowl of grits, a bowl of chopped fresh fruit, jostling for space alongside a platter piled high with pancakes, which cast its shadow on another plate of perfectly done bacon and sausage, which in turn rubbed elbows with a dish of scrambled eggs. A pot of coffee was just starting to beep on the burner, and two tall glass pitchers stood in the center of the table, their surfaces beaded with condensation, one containing milk, and the other orange juice.

Tony turned around, holding the pot of coffee, pausing as he realized that Steve had arrived. The two men made eye contact, though neither spoke. The silence stretched, long seconds ticking by, as Tony stood there uncertainly, and Steve shuffled his feet. Mentally shaking himself, Steve forced a smile, deciding to power through the awkwardness.
"Morning," he said, crossing the floor to sit at one end of the table.
"What's the special occasion?"
"Nothing special per se," Tony responded, coming around the kitchen island to fill the mug that sat by Steve's plate.
"I'm just trying to … well… I guess this is … thisismywayofsayingsorry," he finished in a rush, pouring the coffee into the mug so vigorously, the liquid gurgle almost drowned out his words.
Steve stared, certain he'd misheard.
"Did you just … apologize?" he asked, completely gob smacked. Was he dreaming?
Tony clunked the coffee pot back on to the counter, his expression challenging.
"Yes, I am. What of it? You didn't think the big man in the fancy suit could apologize?" he demanded, cheeks slightly pink.
Steve shook his head silently.
"Oh. Well I can. And I did," he blustered, not quite meeting Steve's eyes.
"You kind of mumbled it though Stark. Doesn't count unless you say it slowly and clearly," Steve intoned severely, smiling to himself as he considered how far he could push Stark.

Stark's eyes widened slightly, a faint spark of anger and resentment flaring, before fading. Taking a deep breath, he made eye contact with Steve.
"Steve, I'm sorry, for what I did. For what I said. I know I can't take it back, and I can't explain it all away, but I really am, very sorry, for behaving in that way," he said, enunciating his words so that they could be heard, his tone sincere, not a trace of mockery on him.

"Do you think you could forgive me?"
Steve stared, now feeling guilty for making the man apologize so profusely. "That wasn't exactly a noble thing to do," he chided himself mentally, "But what should I say? Do I forgive him? Well that's silly, of course I do. But I'm not going to be beer buddies with him anytime soon."

Steve reached for the small jug of cream on the table, pouring a small amount into his coffee, watching the clouds swirl into existence in his cup. He'd always felt that moment was magical. He stirred his cup, and then slowly took a sip, before putting it down.
"Yes," he said, looking up at Stark, who let out a breath he'd been holding.
"Yes, I do forgive you. I do want to know why, but, you don't need to explain it to me just now. But have you apologized to Clint?"
"Yes, yes I have. This was his idea – he said you're a breakfast fiend."
Steve raised an eyebrow at the apt description, letting a smile cross his face.
"Well good. But…Stark? This doesn't mean I'm going to go back to the way things were before. You weren't the … friendliest guy."

Stark snorted, a smile touching his eyes as the tension dissipated from the room.
"I'm not that naïve Captain. But I'd like the chance to fix things. We'll see. I'm not saying there'll be a miraculous change. But I am going to try and fix things."
Steve nodded, impressed by the tone of sincerity in the man's voice. Jarvis chimed in on the intercom.
"Mr. Stark sir, your car is waiting outside to take you to the airport."
"Thanks Jarvis."
Tony stepped forward.

"I'm heading down to LA for a while. Give you a bit of space. We'll talk more when I get back."
He reached out to shake Steve's hand. On impulse, Steve stood up, taking Stark's hand and shaking firmly, then stepping forward and giving him a hug. Stark stood stunned for a moment, then silently hugged back, relaxing into the embrace slightly. After a few seconds, Steve had stepped back, nodding to assure Stark that nothing more needed to be said. Stark clapped him on the shoulder, fingers squeezing briefly, and then exited the kitchen, calling for Jarvis to have his bag sent down. Steve had sat back down, and started consuming the delicious meal that Stark had prepared.

What he didn't know was that upstairs in Stark's lab, Clint had been watching the whole thing, ready to step in if things had taken a bad turn. Clint nodded to himself, satisfied, and then grinned mischievously.
"Jarvis?" he said.
"Could you please send me a recording of Stark saying sorry? I'd like to have a hard copy of that for myself, if I ever need to be reminded that miracles do happen."
" I've already done so Agent Barton. Perhaps you should join Captain Rogers for breakfast now?"
"Dammit Jarvis, you're getting creepy. Stop reading my mind"
"With all due respect Agent Barton, I haven't read your mind, you're just predictable."
A note of glee entered Jarvis's normally staid voice.
"Also, I monitored a shift in hormonal levels in your body when you observed my wake up call to Captain Rogers, and his morning ablutions."

Clint blushed furiously, stalking from the room to join Steve in the kitchen downstairs.