Too Many Feeling's, Not Enough Tea
Tony had a plan.
It wasn't a good plan—more of a chaotic outline held together by caffeine, wishful thinking, and the quiet hope that Harry wouldn't bolt if he opened his mouth.
He even practiced.
In the mirror.
Twice.
"This is going to be a disaster," he muttered, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt like presentation would somehow save him from emotional implosion.
"Would you like me to initiate breathing exercises, sir?" Jarvis asked politely.
"No, I'd like you to invent a time machine so I can go back and tell myself to use protection twenty-nine years ago."
"Noted."
Harry was already in the kitchen when Tony arrived.
Wearing pajama pants with tiny foxes on them. Hair in chaos-mode. Cradling a mug like it was the last cup of tea on Earth.
"I need you to promise me something," Tony said without preamble.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "I promise nothing before caffeine."
Tony grabbed a mug. "Fine. I'll bribe you with a new tech toy."
"Tempting. But can it make toast and validate my emotional damage?"
"Depends—how golden brown are we talking?"
Harry grinned over his cup. "Dad-level jokes before 9 a.m.? We're spiraling."
Tony inhaled sharply.
Harry paused, blinking. "Wait—was that foreshadowing?"
"No," Tony said quickly. Too quickly.
"Tony."
"Don't say my name like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you know something's up."
"I always know something's up," Harry said, hopping up to sit on the counter. "I'm basically the emotional weatherman of this tower."
Tony opened his mouth. Closed it.
Then sighed and leaned against the counter.
"I was going to tell you something. Something important."
Harry blinked. "Is it about the new toaster? Because I swear if it's one of those voice-activated ones again—"
"Harry."
That made him pause. Just for a second. Because Tony almost never said his name like that—without teasing, without banter.
Real. Raw. A little scared.
Harry tilted his head. "Okay. What's wrong?"
Before Tony could answer, the lounge door flew open and Clint came skidding in, socked feet sliding.
"Emergency!"
"Did someone die?" Harry asked flatly.
"No, but Natasha beat my high score on Fruit Ninja."
Harry threw a tea bag at him.
"Out!" Tony shouted.
Clint caught it. "Okay but just know that this betrayal cuts deep—"
"OUT."
Clint left. Sort of. He stood outside the door like a guilt-soaked puppy.
Harry stared after him, then turned back to Tony. "You were saying?"
Tony scrubbed a hand down his face. "Forget it."
"Nope. You don't get to start a confession and then bail."
"I didn't bail."
"You flinched so hard I felt it in my spine."
"Maybe I'll tell you tomorrow."
"Maybe I'll change the locks," Harry shot back. "You're lucky I haven't hacked your AI and made it call me 'Captain Sassypants'."
"I already call you that," Jarvis said helpfully.
Harry beamed. "See? I'm the favorite."
Tony groaned. "I need a nap."
"You need therapy."
"YOU need to stop stealing everyone's hoodies."
Harry gasped. "You leave my emotional support clothing collection alone."
Steve chose that moment to walk in, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Hey, sorry to interrupt. Has anyone seen my blue—"
Harry held up a sleeve.
Steve blinked. "That's mine."
Harry sipped his tea with the audacity of royalty. "Possession is nine-tenths of the cuddle law."
Bucky appeared next, hair damp, expression blank. He walked straight up to Harry and lifted him off the counter like a disgruntled cat.
"Hey!"
"Too much noise," Bucky muttered, tucking Harry under one arm and walking off.
"I was in the middle of emotional manipulation!" Harry protested, flailing dramatically.
Tony stared after them.
Then to Steve.
Then to the heavens.
"I missed the part where that was my life."
Steve patted his shoulder. "You okay?"
"No," Tony muttered. "He stole my hoodie and my heart and won't give either back."