A Situation and a Blueberry French Toast Fix
“Hello?” It was Tony’s phone that rang shrill interrupting movie night and he scrambled to answer it, grimacing apologetically at the team as he hurried towards the other side of common area. “Hey! Hey, no I can talk for a minute, nothing’s going on, what’s up? How are you? I uh--”
Tony glanced back at everyone in the room and admitted softly, “I missed you.”
Whatever the person on the other end said had Tony laughing in quiet delight and moving further into the kitchen, and the moment he was out of hearing range, a collective yet quiet groan went up from the gathered team.”
“Nothin’s goin’ on?” Bucky was the first to complain, folding his arms over his chest and doing his best approximation of a pout. “We’re havin’ movie night, what does he mean nothin’s goin’ on? This is something!”
“Stop that.” Steve looked equally upset but he still pressed at Bucky’s thigh warningly, shaking his head and lowering his voice so Tony wouldn’t over hear. “Don’t be like that. We’re all supposed to be happy that Tony isn’t lonely anymore, remember? We talked about this, remember?”
“I remember.” The former Winter Soldier had a scowl that could peel wall paper. “I also remember tellin’ ya that Tony wouldn’t be lonely with us but you all shouted me down about it.”
“Don’t say we shouted you down like we were happy about it.” Natasha spoke up from her seat in the recliner, legs tucked under her body and a pillow clutched to her chest as she watched the movie, green eyes sharp in the glow from the TV. “Not a single one of us are happy that Tony has a new boyfriend, Bucky. But we all agreed we are happy that he’s happy, so leave it alone.”
“The hell we are happy.” Clint was wearing coordinated jammies all in an atrocious shade of purple, his designated movie night spot on the floor littered with two bowls of popcorn, half a dozen full size candy bars and a 2-liter of something horrifyingly caffeinated. “It was my night to get to sit next’a Tony and all the sudden he’s got a call from the newest boy toy? No, nobody’s happy about that.”
“Now now, Clint.” Bruce never watched movies, but he was always happy to sit alongside his teammates, housemates, friends and read while the movie played in the background. “No need to be petulant about anything.”
“Now hold on, I never thought I’d say this, but I actually agree with Clint.” Sam was sprawled out on the white couch, lounge pants riding low on his hips and upper torso on full bare display. “I’m over here laying all strategic beneath this light and Tony was definitely checking me out right up until the phone rang. Nobody’s happy about that.”
“Nobody’s happy about your shirt bein’ off either.” Bucky retorted, and Sam countered right back, “Everyone’s happy about it, Frosty. Don’t be upset just cos you and Cap asked Tony out and he laughed in your face.”
“He didn’t laugh in our face.” Steve flushed dull red, clenching his jaw in frustration. “He just thought we were kidding.”
“No, he laughed at you, I heard it.” Bruce turned a page in his book. “That’s what prompted the whole conversation about how you all should stop trying to get in Tony’s pants and just let him be happy, remember?”
Another collective albeit quiet groan, and Clint’s attention shifted to Thor who had yet to add anything to the conversation. “What do you think, Thunder from Down Under? Think our idea to let Tony find happiness and companionship outside the team is bullshit? Or do you think we have a right to be pouty that for whatever reason the smartest guy in the world can’t figure out that we full on heart eye for him?”
Thor took up an entire sofa just by himself, shoulders stretched far and big feet planted wide as he pursed his lips and thought Clint’s words through. And then without so much as blinking, the God of Thunder snapped his fingers and a spark of light sizzled in the air for a few seconds, just long enough to burrow itself into Tony’s phone and effectively end the call with a pop.
“Shit!” Tony yelped when the phone damn near melted in his hand. “What in the fuck--?”
“That’s what I think.” Thor rumbled and Natasha laughed softly to herself over it.
“Everything okay, Tony?” Sam called as nonchalantly as he dared. “Phone okay?”
“I must not have fixed that shorting issue we found in those first tests.” Tony frowned down at the disfigured phone, then tossed the whole thing in the trash and made his way back into the common area. “Oh well. It’s not like I don’t have six other phones and we’d figured everything important out anyway.”
“Oh yeah?” Clint didn’t have a nonchalant bone in his body, so when Tony settled back onto the floor to share the popcorn and continue the movie, Clint scooted right over so their shoulders and legs were bumping. “What’s the important things you figured out?”
“A very stupid thing.” Tony popped a handful of popcorn into his mouth and sighed loud, entirely oblivious to how everyone in the room instinctively leaned closer at the distressed sound. “He uh-- he wants us to have a cooking date.”
“A cooking date.” Bruce’s eyebrows twitched only slightly upward in surprise. “As in, he comes over here and you two cook together?”
Bucky’s hand flew to his side feeling around for a knife as if he could stab away even the thought of having to hang around while Tony and his boyfriend got schmoozy in the kitchen, and Sam winged a pillow at him to get him to cut it out.
“Oh I wouldn’t bring him here.” If Tony noticed Clint inching closer to his side, he didn’t comment. “Not for any particular reason but also for the very particular reason of my roommates being the Avengers.”
“Kotenok.” Natasha murmured, the nickname kitten slipping off her tongue in Russian. “We wouldn’t hurt your friend. He is welcome here.”
Thor looked like he wildly disagreed with that premise but before the demigod could argue one way or another, Tony continued, “No, I’m not worried about that. It’s just that the Tower is home, it’s one of the only places we are all free from gawkers and paparazzi and I wouldn’t want to change that by inviting a stranger in. Plus it would do terrible things for my ego if I invited someone home and they took one look at any of you and decided to upgrade, if you know what I mean.”
“Why would that happen, Tony?” Sam made a disbelieving noise, thoroughly trampling their promise to back off as he blurted, “Have you seen you?”
“Sure I have.” Tony’s nose wrinkled when he laughed and it was cute enough for Steve to have to muffle a curse into a drink. “But have you seen you? Or Steve and Bucky? Thor in the morning? Bruce working at his desk? Clint in those ridiculous yoga pants or Tasha when she’s dancing in the studio? I don’t stand a chance against you guys and I’m fine with that, but my ego literally wouldn’t survive being swapped out for one of you. Ask Rhodey. One time a girl asked for his number before she asked for mine and let’s be clear, I’m not blaming her because Rhodey is a fox but I still pouted about it for a month.”
“Fuck me, he’s adorable.” Bucky muttered, scrubbing at his face in exhaustion before saying louder, “Tony, ain’t no one gonna see us and change their mind about you.”
“Right.” Tony laughed again and settled in further to Clint’s side, not seeing how Clint nearly melted into the innocent touch. “The other day you went running without a shirt on and I almost had a heart attack watching your nip nops in the morning air. I would leave me for you all so I certainly can’t blame anyone else for leaving too. There’s no hard feelings, I just want to have a boyfriend for a tiny bit longer before introducing you guys. So no, no cooking date here.”
The room was quiet as the movie played on, the team exchanging meaningfully pointed looks over Tony’s head for a few minutes. It was Thor who broke the silence with his deep voice, rumbling a curious, “Anthony. Why is cooking together a stupid thing?”
“Hm?” Tony’s expression wrinkled in confusion, then cleared a moment later. “Oh, yes cooking together is a very stupid thing. I’m actually shocked I agreed to it, but we all do crazy things whilst horny so--”
He shrugged, mistook Tasha’s strangled cough of agreement about the horny, and clarified, “I said yes to a cooking date when I can’t cook at all. Don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You cook all the time, Tony.” Steve laced his fingers with Bucky in an effort to get his boyfriend to relax, since Bucky had tensed up anticipatory the moment Tony had mentioned his nip nops. “You made us chicken just the other night and it was great.”
“Uh no.” Tony broke his candy bar in half and tossed the other piece to Bruce. “No I definitely didn’t make you chicken. I ordered in chicken and put it on regular plates so when you came for dinner it looked homemade.”
“You made us a pie for my birthday.” Thor countered. “Twas delicious. Peaches if I remember correctly.”
“Paid this sweet lady I met at the store to cook it for me.” Tony shook his head. “I’ve never even put anything in the oven, much less baked it.”
“Tony.” Natasha’s brow furrowed. “Tony, I have seen you make us pancakes.”
“Have you though?” The gorgeous little brunette challenged. “Or have you been sitting in here working off a hangover and seen me carry in plates of pancakes?”
“Wait wait wait.” Sam finally sat up, swinging his feet off the couch and clasping his hands between his knees to stare Tony down. “We alternate who cooks. It was your idea as a way to bring us all closer. Are you telling me that you have never cooked? Not once? Ever?”
“One day you can ask Rhodey about the toaster strudel incident in MIT.” Tony offered as explanation. “And then ask Pepper about the birthday cake fiasco the first year she worked for me.”
“So you said yes to cooking with this guy when you can’t cook at all?” Clint asked in disbelief. “Tony, what were you thinking?”
“Uhhh…” Tony scratched at his chin sheepishly. “That I’m pretty enough for him to not realize I don’t know the difference between baking soda and baking powder?”
“Oh my god.” Bruce put his book down. “Which meal are you trying to cook together?”
“Dinner.” Tony answered promptly, then a little embarrassed, “And he suggested I could cook breakfast. Cos you know, I’ll hopefully still be there for breakfast? And I got so excited about an overnight date that I said yes without thinking and now-- now I’m stuck.”
Once again Thor was the one to break the silence, and the huge blond looked as if the words physically pained him, the idea of helping Anthony impress someone else sitting like acid on his tongue. “Anthony my-- my friend. Would you like me to teach you to cook?”
“I could teach you something too.” Sam managed to only half grumble. “I’ve got good breakfast type recipes.”
“Me and Stevie got my Ma’s recipe for cookies. They’re real good.” Bucky offered and after a moment of clear indecision Clint added, “I got a few ideas that’ll work Tony. And they’re me proof so they should be good even for a kitchen disaster like you.”
“Really?” Tony’s smile was so happy, so thrilled that they all felt immediately guilty for not-secretly hoping the whole boyfriend thing didn’t work out. “You guys would help me?”
“Of course we will, Tony.” Out of everyone, Bruce was the least romantically inclined but he had a soft spot for Tony that was damn near love and it layered his voice warm. “I’ve got a recipe you’ll like too.”
“I’ll go first.” Natasha smiled sweetly at Tony and shot lasered glares at everyone else so they wouldn’t dare protest. “I’ve got a baked French Toast recipe that will fix all of this, alright?”
“You are all the best.” Tony’s eyes were sparkling, cheeks flushed in surprise and open appreciation. “And Natasha thank you. Our date is for Saturday and I’d settle for just learning to properly scramble an egg--”
Bruce coughed shocked into his drink and Tony nodded emphatically, “Yeah, that’s why we had to throw away that one skillet pan. Can’t scramble eggs worth a damn. And yes, I’d settle just for learning that but if you will help me with more, I will absolutely buy you something pretty.”
“I’d like a new handgun.” Natasha answered coolly. “And we’ll start lessons in the morning.”
“I can’t wait.”
********
Tony arrived in the Tower kitchen promptly at nine-thirty the next morning, and Natasha’s full lips tilted into a bemused smile when she saw him readily attired in the most ruffled apron she’d even seen in her entire life.
“Tony.” Nat was standing on tip toes on the counter straining to reach the biggest baking pans in the very top, seldom used cupboard. She was shorter than everyone else on the team, shorter than Tony by a solid six inches so she thoroughly enjoyed the chance to chuckle down at Tony from her counter top assisted height. “What on Earth are you wearing?”
“Pepper lent it to me.” Tony smoothed the ruffles with both hands, grinning at the wildly floral print. “She promised me her most ridiculous apron. I thought she’d give me the one that said Kitchen Diva but this one is nice too. Do you need help down from there?”
If anyone other than Tony had asked, the fearsome ballerina would have more than likely kicked them in the head and then somersaulted her way to the kitchen floor effortlessly, but because it was Tony Natasha carefully set the baking pans down then took the offered hand and allowed Tony to help her down safely onto the tiles. “Thank you, darling.”
“Sure thing.” Attention caught by the array of ingredients lining the counters, Tony missed the flicker of adoration in Natasha’s green eyes. “So. Blueberries? Is that why Sam is scowling and muttering in the dining room?”
“Yes.” She answered promptly. “He came sneaking trying to steal my blueberries and got a fork through the palm for it.”
“Ouch.” Tony winced sympathetically. “I shouldn’t laugh about that.”
“I disagree.” Natasha tied an apron around her tiny waist, a rather muted affair when compared to Tony’s floral printed eyesore. “I think in all cases, we should laugh at giant stupid boys who get stabbed for trying to steal food.”
Tony did laugh then, nearly shouted with laughter in fact and Natasha murmured something approving and sweet under her breath as she moved to start the oven. “Ready to learn a breakfast recipe?”
“Absolutely.” Tony declared excitedly. “Tell me what we’re making.”
“Baked Blueberry French Toast.” Natasha motioned to a loaf of bread sitting off to the side. “First things first, the bread needs to be crustless and cubed. Can you handle that?”
“I…” Tony turned the loaf over in his hands hesitantly. “...understand what those words mean separately. Crustless and cubed.”
“They mean exactly the same thing in this context.” Natasha busied herself greasing the baking pan and opening bars of cream cheese. “Cut the crust off, cube the loaf. You could tear the bread into pieces too, but it’s prettier if we cube it.”
“Sure.” Tony picked the largest, shiniest knife from the drawer and Nat made a negative noise, exchanged it for one with a serrated blade that would slice through the soft pieces. “Wow, wait till Bucky hears that the biggest knife isn’t always the best knife.”
“Every man in the world and several women need to hear the biggest knife isn’t always the best knife.” Nat replied dryly, expertly cutting the blocks of cream cheese and setting them aside. “The size of the knife is only thirty percent of what matters. The other seventy percent is how you use it.”
“Ms. Romanoff.” Tony only glanced up briefly from his studious attempts at cubing. “Was that almost a dick joke? Size doesn’t matter, it’s all about how you use it?”
“It was almost a dick joke.” Nat winked at him. “And provides an excellent segue into my next question-- careful, those pieces are almost too small. Cube it, don’t dice it-- how big is your paramour?”
“How big is my--” Tony nearly dropped the knife and only just managed to recover it without losing a finger or four. “Tasha!”
“From a scale of Clint to Thor.” Nat swept towards the fridge for milk. “With Clint being ‘just right to get the job done’ and Thor being ‘you aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to swallow again because you’re pretty sure you felt it coming up the back of your throat every time he jammed it in you’.”
Tony stared horrified for a few seconds, long enough that Natasha almost regretted asking the question...
…but then, “I feel like Clint’s on the bigger side of just right to get the job done.” Tony neatly sidestepped the question about his paramour and went back to cutting. “Have you seen him in the yoga pants?”
“Yes, Tony.” Tasha didn’t miss Tony’s avoidance of the question, and filed that information away in her mind for later. “Yes, I’ve seen Clint in the yoga pants. And I agree. Probably the bigger side of just right to get the job done.”
“Definitely.” Tony spread the fairly cube-ish bread into the pan where Natasha indicated. “But since I can’t comfortably talk about uh… girth… while wielding a knife, tell me how the heck you know this recipe.”
“Why do you say it like that?” Natasha held up the container of fresh blueberries, handed Tony a measuring cup and pointed him at the pan again. “As if it’s weird that I know a recipe at all?”
“Mostly because one time I heard you argue with Steve that a shot of adrenaline into the heart produces an equitable amount of calories and energy as a full meal and therefore you should be allowed to skip dinner every now and then?” Tony scattered the blueberries, frowned down at his attempts and then rescattered them with his fingers until the bread pieces were well covered. “Partly because I can’t imagine the Black Widow lifestyle lends itself to much time for home cooked meals, especially ones that require lots of different ingredients, a pan, oven and fresh fruit.”
“You are correct on both accounts.” Nat picked up another handful of bread and spread it over the berries and waited while Tony picked up the remaining cream cheese and added it in. “Even though the shot of adrenaline argument was solely to see that big vein in Steve’s forehead throb.”
“That thing is ultra scary, looks like a damn alien under his skin.” Tony blanched when Tasha handed him a whisk and a bowl full of milk, a weird amount of eggs and maple syrup. “Also uh what am I doing right now?”
“Whisk.” Nat made the motion with her hands. “All of it.”
“This is a chicken coops worth of eggs.”
“It’s called a dozen eggs.” She corrected teasingly. “But you’re cute so I’ll let it slide. And you’re right, being a Black Widow left very little time for recipes like this.”
“So how do you know it?” Tony’s first attempt at whisking went unfortunately awry and he gasped out something strangled when a splotch of egg flung up and hit him right in the eye. “Ack! I didn’t know I needed protection for my face!”
“Whisk slowly first until everything is mixed and then whisk quickly.” Nat wiped the egg away with a corner of her own apron. “My god, you really are a disaster in the kitchen aren’t you? You built an AI system that runs this entire place but can’t handle French Toast?”
“All geniuses are bad at normal things.” Tony sniffed. “If I was a great cook and amazing at everything else, the world would never stand a chance.”
“Of course it wouldn’t.” Natasha took the bowl and poured it over the layered dish, then popped the whole thing in the oven and pointed so Tony would set the timer. “This will take about an hour to bake so let’s clean up, then I’ll show you how to make the syrup for it.”
“You never answered my question.” Tony rolled his sleeves up and turned the water on, readying himself for the stack of dishes Natasha loaded into the sink. “How did you learn the recipe?”
“Well.” Nat popped a spare blueberry into her mouth as she thought through her answer. “At the risk of sharing long buried agency secrets, when I was a child I was brought to America along with two other agents and another little girl for a secret mission. I was at least nine when we arrived, and we stayed for three years.”
“What, as a--a fake family?” Tony scrubbed at the mixing bowl, brows lifted curiously. “Where at in the states?”
“The Midwest.” Another blueberry, Natasha’s expression dreamy and almost sad as she remembered. “I was old enough and already well trained enough in the Red Room to know it was an assignment and I knew not to look too far into the way the agents were parental and caring to us, but the little girl, the one who played my sister-- she didn’t know so the agents were extra careful with her.”
“The woman who pretended to be our Mother made the same five meals every week, it was all she knew.” One of Tasha’s shoulders rose and fell in a half shrug. “Her part of the mission was far beyond even what I understood, so she learned only the basics of cooking to fit in to the neighborhood. We had the same five meals on the weekdays, Saturday night we would order in pizza and on Sunday morning, she would make this.”
Nat inclined her head towards the stove. “Blueberry French Toast. The entire house would smell sweet all day Sunday, there was always extra syrup and more helpings than we could possibly eat. She made it on Sundays, on birthdays or holidays and when I ate it, sometimes I would allow myself to forget that we were pretending. It felt like something a real mother would make me, a labor of love because it was time consuming and sometimes berries were expensive and there was always a mess…only a real mother would be willing to do all that effort, hm?”
She smiled, only a little. “The night we ran, I took the recipe card from her box and put it in my bag because I thought it would be important.”
Tony slowed in washing the bowl, sympathy dimming his dark eyes. “It wasn’t important.”
“Not to anyone except me.” Nat shook her head. “I memorized it on the journey to our rendezvous point and when they took my bag, I never saw the card again. I never forgot it though. It was the first meal I made when Fury recruited me to SHIELD, a meal of freedom. I make it for myself sometimes and eat it for days after a mission and Clint begs me for it when he is sick because he is entirely incapable of feeding himself.”
“And now you’re passing the recipe to me so I can get laid?” Tony asked hopefully, a hand at his heart because he was both sad for Nat’s story but also aware enough not to pry. “My god do I appreciate that.”
“Yes.” Natasha hid a flash of jealousy in a quick smile because ugh she didn’t really want Tony laid by anyone but her. “Now I am passing this recipe to you so you can get laid. Guard it with your life.”
The dishes were done in a relatively short amount of time and the conversation turned to more mundane things as Tony and Natasha wiped down the counters and readied the simple syrup that would top the French Toast once it was finished.
Tony stole a drink of Natasha’s orange juice and nearly died coughing when he realized it was mostly Vodka with only enough orange juice to color the alcohol, and Natasha laughed until her sides hurt as he screeched, “Who the hell drinks vodka in the morning! It is ten in the morning Natasha!” When the noise and laughter drew inevitable looky-loos and nosiness from other members of the team, Natasha rested a slightly possessive hand at Tony’s back and glared lethal at the interlopers until they scurried away.
This was her morning with Tony, damn it. They needed to stay away.
Lips stained with blueberries, laughter louder after sharing the barely-juiced vodka and the syrup spreading thick and sweet over the fresh from the oven French Toast, the kitchen smell wonderful and Tony’s cheeks were flushed with happiness as he dug into the portion on his plate.
“This is amazing!” he cried out loud. “I helped with this! I cut the bread that made this delicious!”
“Of course you did, my love.” Nat smiled over her own bite of the admittedly yummy breakfast. “The cut bread is obviously the star of this whole dish.”
“Thank you for this, Tasha.” Tony sobered up enough to say, entwining their fingers and squeezing at her hand quickly. “I messed up that syrup three different times--”
“-- we don’t just dump cornstarch into water, no, we need a slurry for that.” she nodded good naturedly. “But that’s okay, you learned.”
“-- and you didn’t give up on me and I appreciate that.” Tony’s cheeks tinted lightly pink. “Especially since it’s probably not super fun to teach someone to cook just so they can use it to seduce someone else.”
“It’s fine, Tony.” Nat set her fork down and reached to very carefully, very gently sweep her thumb over the bow of Tony's lips, wiping away a bit of syrup with a near tender smile. “And if your boyfriend isn’t already in love with you, this should absolutely seal the deal.”
“Um--” Tony’s heart did something odd in his chest when the little redhead stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Th-thank you.”
“It was my pleasure, love.” Nat stepped away before she did anything impulsive, and whistled sharp out into the living room. “Alright Clint and Sam! We’re done cooking so you can come eat!”
Whatever Tony felt, whatever way his heart flip flopped or stomach swooped when Nat winked at him quickly derailed when he was nearly trampled as Sam and Clint beelined into the kitchen, closely followed by Thor and Steve who body checked Bucky out of the way to get to the pan first.
Tony tucked that reaction away alongside all the other ways Nat made his heart flutter and set to work copying the recipe onto a card for himself.
He had a date to plan for.
*********
Chapter Notes:
I’ve officially been writing fan fiction for five years now, so it felt right to revisit one of my earliest fics (Rules for Dating Tony) and use that same formula for an anniversary fic.
This is going to be nothing but everyone flirting with Tony, lots of fluff and laughter, and Tony getting spoiled and flattered and taken care of just like he deserves. Also Kitchen Gremlin Disaster Tony is one of my favorite versions of him!
Oh and Bonus! Every recipe in the fic is out of my personal recipe book! So you can make it too!
Next Up: Steve and Bucky , and Clint!
********
Baked Blueberry French Toast:
Makes 9x13 Pan
*Note-- I usually make this the night before and keep in fridge overnight then bake
French Toast Ingredients:
12 Slices White, Crustless Bread
2 8oz packages softened cream cheese
12 eggs
2 Cup Milk
⅓ Cup Maple Syrup or Honey
1 Cup Frozen or Fresh Blueberries
Syrup Ingredients
1 Cup Sugar
2 Tbsp Cornstarch
1 Cup Water
1 Cup Blueberries
1 Tbsp Butter
Directions:
Preheat Oven to 350 Degrees
Cube Crustless Bread, Place ½ in Bottom of Greased Pan
Cube 1 Package Cream Cheese over Bread
Top with ½ Blueberries
Repeat until Pan is Full
Mix Eggs, Milk, and Maple Syrup/Honey and Pour Over Pan
Bake Approx. 1 Hour, 30 mins foil- covered, Remaining Time Uncovered
Prepare Syrup (20 mins cook time)
Whisk Cornstarch and Water into Slurry
Over Medium Heat, Whisk in Sugar and Let Mixture Thicken
Add Blueberries
Once thickened to taste, remove from heat and add Tbsp butter, stirring until melted.
Serve Over Warm French Toast