Chapter One (Three Years Ago)

            Some people buy their friends bracelets. Or clothes. Or…something material. That’s what normal people did. So, of course, Tony Stark would have to reinvent that with his usual grandstanding and opulence. Sure, he could’ve gone the traditional route, gotten them sports cars custom designed to represent them. He thought about that, actually, but Pepper had shut that down pretty damn fast. No, Tony wanted to get them something memorable, something over the top, something that screamed his name.

            He bought them a bakery.

            “Well, what do you think?” Tony spread his arms and spun around the empty room.

            Six shocked faces stared back at him.

            Tony dropped his arms. “You don’t like it?”

            “It’s not that, Tony. We just… didn’t expect this,” Steve explained slowly.

            Tony grinned. “That’s what I was going for. The shock value.”

            His phone rang suddenly and he excused himself, stepping out onto the sidewalk to take the call. As soon as the door closed behind him, Steve whirled to face the rest of the group.

            “What the fuck are we supposed to do with a bakery?” Clint asked. “Can any of us even bake?”

            Bruce shook his head. “I don’t think that was the point. It was a gesture. One that Tony is very proud of.”

            “What shall we do with this pastry shop?” Thor asked, walking around the room in long strides.

            His brother, Loki, examined his fingernails disinterestedly. “Burn it to the ground and dance around the fire like heathens.”

            Everyone stared at Loki for a long moment.

            “Uh…I think we’ll make that our back up plan,” Steve suggested. “We can’t just shoot Tony down. He was trying to be generous.”

            Natasha crossed her arms. “I think it’s kind of cool. I always wanted to work in a bakery.”

            The silence that followed this was even longer than the one before.

            “Really?” Steve asked.

            Natasha nodded. “When I lived in Russia. There was one a few miles from my house. The women who owned it were almost as sweet as their pastries. I bought bread from them once a week.”

            The door swung open and Tony waltzed in, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

            “So? What’s the verdict?” he rubbed his hands together excitedly.

            Steve hesitated. “It’s…very nice, Tony. But none of us know anything about running a bakery.”

            Tony waved this away. “It’s not rocket science, guys. Besides, I already thought about all of that. I worked up a list of what everyone can do. And the construction crew comes in first thing tomorrow to remodel everything. Are you in, or not?”

            They all exchanged looks. Slowly, one by one, they all nodded- save for Loki, who ignored the rest of them completely.

            Tony looked positively thrilled. “Great! Okay, so let’s get down to business. Steve and Bruce, you will be our bakers-“

            “Why me?” Bruce asked.

            “Bruce, you make homemade cinnamon rolls every Saturday,” Tony pointed out.

            Bruce shrugged.

            “Continuing with the jobs,” Tony went on. “Thor, you’re going to run deliveries and help with running the counter. Natasha, you’re in charge of the front of the bakery. You run the counter, deal with the customers, take orders, all that fun stuff.”

            Natasha seemed to accept this. “Wait- don’t tell me you’re going to be decorating cakes and baking cookies.”

            “Of course not!” Tony scoffed. “I’m the business manager.”

            Clint spoke up from beside Natasha. “Please don’t tell me I’m the janitor or something. I fucking hate mops.”

            Natasha shot him a look. “Mops?”

            “They look like stick people with really bad wigs that had their souls sucked out, okay?” Clint said defensively.

            “No, Barton, you will be our master decorator,” Tony interrupted.

            Clint cocked his head to the side. “I think you have to be trained to be considered a master.”

            “Okay, then I’ll find a class for you to take,” Tony replied easily.

            Natasha looked around the bare room, imagining how it would like when the remodeling was done. Steve and Bruce wandered into the kitchen to look at the appliances that were already hooked up. Clint scrambled up the metal ladder that led to the balcony over the shop entrance. Thor and Loki were watching the owners of the Italian market next door fight through the front window. Tony had disappeared into the back office. They all congregated back in the front room after a while, looking around at each other.

            Clint looked around the room.  “What are we going to call it?”

Present Day

            “Shield Bakery, how can I help you?” Natasha said into the cordless phone, leaving the line of customers for half a second to retrieve the appointment book.

            “Natasha,” Loki’s voice came from the other end. “Thor wishes to know the location of the delivery. He seems to have lost the order sheet.”

            Natasha flipped through the pages. “Hold on, I’ve got a line.”

            She dropped the phone on the counter and carefully scooped a dozen chocolate cookies into a box. She sealed it and slid it across the counter, accepting the money the customer handed over and smiling when he dropped a ten in the tip jar. She boxed up three cakes and another dozen cookies to meet the demands of the customer in record time. As the last customer thanked her, she scooped up the phone and turned back to the appointment book.

            “Loki?” she asked.

            Loki sighed impatiently.

            Natasha rolled her eyes. “It’s on 5^th Street. Two blocks past that bar we went to last week. It’s the building with that terrible orange sign.”

            “Thank you,” he replied quickly, disconnecting.

            Natasha returned the book to the shelf and checked the display case. She closed the register and pushed through the door into the kitchen.

            “Hey, Steve, how are those chocolate chip cookies coming? We’re running low out front and we’ve got an order for two dozen tonight,” she called.

            Steve wiped his hands on his apron and smiled at her. “They’re cooling right now. We’ve got six dozen. How’s it going out front?”

            Natasha leaned over to inspect the cookies. “Pretty good. I just sold three cakes and two dozen cookies in the past ten minutes. One of the customers dropped a ten in the tip jar, too.”

            “I knew it was a good idea to put the sexy one out front,” Tony announced, snagging a cookie from the cooling racks.

            Natasha grabbed a spatula and whacked Tony on the head. “Watch it, Stark.”

            Tony winked at her and bit into the cookie.

            “Tony, stop stealing cookies,” Bruce admonished, passing with an arm load of cake pans.

            “I’m not stealing, I’m doing a quality control check,” Tony said around a mouthful of chocolate. “Keep up the good work, boys.”

            Steve shook his head, smiling, and went back to the vat of icing he was working on. Natasha moved a few dozen of the cookies onto display trays and carried them back out to the front. She opened the back of the display case and slid the trays in next to the oatmeal cookies. Natasha stood back and examined the case.

            “Hey, Clint,” she called over her shoulder.

            The curtain around the balcony slid back and Clint leaned on the wrought iron bar that encircled the working space. “What’s up, Tash?”

            “I need another cake for the display case. We have enough cupcakes to get us through the lunch rush, but we’ll need at least a dozen more for the after dinner crowd. Send them down on the dumbwaiter when you’re ready, okay?” Natasha wiped down the counter, ridding it of a few stray crumbs.

            “Got it, Tash,” Clint slid the curtain closed, and Natasha could hear him whistling.

            The phone rang again and Natasha grabbed it. “Shield Bakery, how may I help you?”

            “Ms. Romanov? It’s your landlord.”

            Natasha leaned against the counter. “Mr. Fury. How are you?”

            “Fine, fine. I had a question for you all. As you know, I’ve been teaching a criminal sciences class at the university for the past few months. I have two students looking for work experience. I thought that maybe you bunch could help me out with that,” Fury grumbled.

            Natasha shifted the phone. “Are they culinary students?”

            Fury scoffed. “Not exactly. One of them is on probation. She needs work experience hours to show the dean that she can be responsible. The other is an over achieving little shit who wants to gain some experience in running a small business. The girl claims she can bake, but I wouldn’t put too much stock in her claims.”

            “We could use the help,” Natasha admitted. “We’ll give it a shot, at least. I want to get a little history on them, though. What are their names?”

            On the other end, she could hear Fury shuffling papers. “Darcy Lewis and Peter Parker.”

            “I’ll run them through my database. Tell them to be here tomorrow at noon for their orientation. They have a two-week probationary period. If they don’t make it through that, they don’t earn any credit. After that they’ll gain credit so long as they keep up their work. I’m not going to put up with a couple of lazy kids. If they’re slackers, I don’t want them,” Natasha insisted.

            Fury snorted. “Trust me, Ms. Romanov, neither of them are slackers. Lewis needs a swift kick in the ass, in my opinion, but she takes her responsibilities seriously. And Parker…well, you’ll see tomorrow. I want reports on their experiences and behavior at the end of the trial period. I’ll pass them on to the proper people and make sure they earn the credit they deserve. If you have any problems, just let me know.”

            Natasha hung up and slapped the panic button hidden under the register. Steve, Bruce, and Tony burst in from the kitchen in a flurry of powdered sugar and flour. Clint all but slid down the ladder. They all converged on the counter, ready to beat the hell out of the idiot trying to rob them. All at once, they seemed to realize the bakery was free of muggers, and relaxed.

            “You know,” Tony sighed, drooping against the counter, “It’s not like you can’t be loud when you want to be. Why can’t you ever just yell for us? Always with the damn panic button.”

            Natasha shrugged. “If I asked nicely, you wouldn’t respond as quickly. This is important.”

            The front door was thrust open and Thor trooped in, Loki skulking behind him. They joined the rest of the staff at the counter, recognizing that someone had news.

            “Tomorrow,” Natasha continued, “We’ve got two college kids coming in. They need work experience, and Fury asked if we could help him out. There’s one kid who is hoping to learn something about running a small business. Tony, he’s yours. Try to actually teach him something.”

            Tony stood up straight. “Are you implying that I do nothing? I will have you know that I could be home in my lab right now, coming up with the next big invention, but I choose to be here, with my friends and Loki.”

            Loki shot Tony a scathing look, which he ignored completely.

            “There’s also a girl,” Natasha pushed on. “She needs the experience because she’s on behavioral probation at the university-“

            Clint’s hand shot in the air. “I call her! She’s mine.”

            “No,” Natasha shot him down.

            “Fuck no,” Tony elaborated.

            Loki rolled his eyes. “Not even I am willing to subject the bake house to that.”

            “Come on! We need another decorator! We’ve already got two bakers we don’t need a third. Pleeeaassseeee?” Clint begged.

            Everyone stared at him. His shoulders sagged in defeat.

            “Bastards,” he muttered.

            Natasha shook her head. “Peter and Darcy will be here at noon. I want everyone here to meet them- you, too, Loki. They’ll need to get used to running into you.”

            “I will not speak to them. If they touch me, I will put them in the new oven and toss hot baking tins at them,” he seethed.

            Clint shot him a sideways look and stepped a little closer to Natasha. “Okay, well I’m going to go put a lock on the oven, if you don’t need me for anything else.”

            Steve hurried behind him. “Don’t you dare, Barton, I’ve got a dozen cream puffs in that oven!”

            Bruce watched them go, then looked over at Natasha. “Nat, are you sure this is a good idea? Bringing in two kids who have no experience to help us out? We’re going to be responsible for their mistakes.”

            “I know,” Natasha nodded, pulling a serving knife out of the display case. “That’s why you train them before you dole out jobs.”

            She ran the knife over the stone sharpener, sending out sparks. Tony flinched and backed towards the kitchen. Loki had a glint in his eye and a small smirk on his face.

            “These children, they are slaves to our wishes, yes?” he asked.

            Natasha shrugged. “More or less. And can everyone stop talking about them like I agreed to hire a pair of preteens? They’re college kids. How bad could they be?”