5.
"Thank you, Tony. But if there's anything I can do to repay you... you name it. Okay?"
Tony wondered if he was comfortable with the captain's dedication or if it was more annoying. Of course, he couldn't just say thanks and let it go. Oh, no. He had to make a speech, cut to the chase, and then offer a quid pro quo. Or rather, ask for a quid pro quo. That was like him.
His gaze wandered back to the pan of cooling scrambled eggs. He was already full, yet he ate another bite anyway, and smiled contentedly.
Tony didn’t like cooking. He didn't enjoy it, it was messy and took up time. That's why he always had a fridge full of leftovers and takeaways. Sometimes the housekeeper would cook and freeze something for him, but it wasn't as tasty. But Steve's breakfast was delicious, even if it was just scrambled eggs, which he could manage on his own in an emergency.
It reminded him of his mom. He tried to push the thoughts away quickly, it was silly to think of her now, but he couldn't. Mom didn't usually cook. They had cooks who took care of that. But sometimes, when Howard was away, she took Tony into the kitchen in the morning. He couldn't have been more than five or six then. She sat him down on the table and gave him an important task. Mixing. She taught him how to crack an egg, then put a fork in his hand and let him beat it all up. He remembered how he liked to poke the yolk and watch it pour into the white. He always stirred so vigorously that he managed to spill it. She wasn't angry with him, ever. She handed him a tea towel and he had to clean up after himself.
"Always try to clean up your mess, Tony," she told him gently. Advice he didn't always take to heart, but which he remembered well.
It was just their moments, without Howard, without any stress or fear. Just the two of them in the kitchen, his mom with her apron, and him usually still in his pajamas. They had music playing on the radio, Mom dancing to it, and Tony always thought the world was a beautiful place. Until Howard came home...
They stopped their morning cookouts when he was sent to boarding school.
"I haven't had a proper home-cooked meal since I was sent to boarding school," he uttered thoughtfully, pulling the pan onto his lap and eating some more. He was still lost in his memories, but he was aware of Steve's intent gaze. "And I have to admit, it's delicious. So if you want to repay me in some way, keep cooking like this."
He looked up and met the soldier's indulgent smile. Has he always had a dimple in his left cheek? Tony looked him over, the gentle expression on Steve’s face and the muscular arms resting on his chest. His body was relaxed, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, and his hair, still damp from the shower, waved gently. It occurred to Tony that he had rarely seen Captain like this. He was always so serious, alert, and simply the epitome of Captain America. But this... this had to be Steve Rogers. Plain and simple Steve, the guy from the forties who defended the weak before they injected him with the serum. He looked younger, more innocent. Not like a soldier who'd seen the horrors of war from the front lines, but like a kid who was barely trying to figure out what to do with his life.
Tony finally saw the difference and understood why Steve irritated him beyond belief sometimes and not at other times. When he was in Captain America mode, Tony hated him. He made himself out to be an authority figure and expected Tony to listen to him, which he was not going to do no matter what. But when he left Captain America at home and was just Steve like he was now... he was just another guy he had a good time with.
"Just that? You want me to cook for you?" He chuckled softly, but didn't seem to disagree. Tony grimaced.
"That's right, soldier. But only breakfast and lunch, no dinner. I usually work the most in the evening anyway and don't have time to eat. Or I'm at parties," he waved a hand dismissively at that, and Steve thankfully didn't ask, though his smiling face had retreated back into a disapproving mask. Tony didn't feel like explaining that family dinners were a nightmare for him.
"All right, Tony, as you wish," he finally agreed, taking the now empty pan from him and standing at the sink to wash it. They were both silent for a while, Steve looking deep in thoughts and Tony just sipping his coffee and simply enjoying the quiet atmosphere. The energy that radiated from Steve was so much different than what he was used to. True, he'd been getting along better with him lately, but there were still moments when they'd start barking at each other like two stray dogs.
"There is one more thing I wanted to discuss with you."
Tony rolled his eyes to the ceiling and chuckled. "Are you going to bog me down with serious talk every morning now? In that case, I'll stay in bed until lunch."
"No, don't worry," Steve chuckled, wiping his hands on a tea towel and bracing himself against the counter. He wasn't looking at him, his gaze fixed on the soap bubbles in the sink. "I just wanted to see if you were okay after what happened yesterday..."
Tony gritted his teeth. Why did he have to spoil such a beautiful morning? Tony didn't want to remember yesterday's events. He blamed himself for the deaths of those children, even though he knew logically that he had no way to help them.
"Yeah, everything's fine, Cap," he assured him, patting him on the shoulder, a perfect fake smile on his face. "How about you?"
"I'll be fine," he muttered, looking up at him. Seriously and caringly. "If you want to talk... you know you can come see me, right?"
"Yep, you remind me all the time," he laughed, hopping off the kitchen island and finishing his coffee. "I'll come to you if I'm breaking down, don't worry. We can shed some man tears together and give out some hugs. Sounds like a great plan, doesn't it?" He uttered theatrically, throwing his hands up, almost spilling his coffee. Steve didn't answer him, that gentle smile on his face again. Tony still hadn't discarded the idea that Rogers had managed to get stuff strong enough to take down a super soldier.
"I'm gonna do some work. See you later," he waved at him and strode towards the workshop. He ran down the stairs, stepped over the piles of tools and junk and slumped into a chair.
"OK, kids, daddy's home. Wake up," he clapped and looked around. The Doombots immediately scrambled over to him and Jarvis wished him good morning again, turning on all the monitors. "Jarvis, send that rascal over here. I need to find out why he threw away the gauntlet."
"Certainly, sir. I'd just like to let you know that Miss Potts is on the phone. Would you like to speak to her?"
Tony frowned. He wasn't exactly in the mood to discuss anything with Pepper, work or otherwise. But it was clear to him that once he'd slammed her call down a few times, she'd rush into the workshop during her lunch break. Tony Stark was no coward, but Miss Potts was in a whole different league. She had the appearance of an angel, but in reality she was evil! When she got out of bed in the morning, the devil ran for cover.
"OK," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Tony?"
"Pepper, darling, good morning!" He exclaimed cheerfully, wishing to pour himself a drink. "How are you?"
"Fine, thanks for asking," came the tense reply. Tony rolled his eyes, this was going to be a hell of a conversation.
"Is there anything I need to sign again? To agree to? Buy pink soaps for the ladies room? Tell some sexist asshole that you're the boss?"
"No, Tony, that won't be necessary. I just wanted to ask you about the Christmas party."
Tony could hear the tiny smile in her voice as she answered, which was a good sign. Maybe she was getting over being angry with him. Slowly. Very slowly. At the speed of a snail that had been bribed to crawl even slower and break a Guinness record. Yeah, that last one sounds about right.
"Christmas party? It's October, Pepper. Christmas is far away," he countered. He liked parties, but only if he didn't have to help prepare them.
What wine would you like to be served, Mr. Stark? Would you like a vegetarian and vegan buffet option? Would you like your napkins cream or light beige? If it were entirely up to him, the whiskey and scotch would be flowing and the tables would be buckling under the weight of the cheeseburgers. But it was explained to him that it wasn't appropriate.
"Tony, you know very well how long it takes to plan a party like this. Invitations have to be designed and sent out, food and drinks have to be selected, the venue and decorations have to be arranged, and a whole bunch of other things have to be done."
"And we have to do that?" he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Not that he had to do it all himself, but the organizers needed his permission, so they kept calling him and asking the stupid questions. He wasn't amused, always nodding off at the first tolerable option and then having to listen to Pepper's disgruntled growl that the colour of the napkins didn't match the colour of the tablecloths.
"We should, Tony. It's a way of thanking our staff for their hard work. It's also probably the only event you show up to so they know who they work for."
He put his hand on the arc reactor and gasped exaggeratedly.
"Was that a rebuke, Pepper? I'm offended! I show up all the time!"
"Yes, on TV as Iron Man," she laughed lightly, and the sound warmed Tony's heart. He smiled, lowered his hand, took a drink, and was currently willing to promise her anything. Even the proverbial blue from the sky he would bring her, he'd just have to adjust his suit enough to handle such a flight. "But I need you to show up at the company sometime. To give the employees the impression that you care about them."
He bounced and rode his chair up to one of the monitors. Jarvis started the calendar projection in front of him and Tony rubbed his chin thoughtfully. It wasn't that he was over his head with work, but there was no way he could just put his feet up on the desk either. He had all sorts of meetings to attend, phone calls with Japan and China that stretched on for hours at a time, and in a couple of weeks he was due to fly to Kazakhstan to discuss with the government how to dispose of the weapons that an activist organisation had stolen. Maybe this will eventually become an Avengers mission if Fury agrees. According to the information he had, they had an entire arsenal.
And that's just what the rest of October looked like, November and December were even worse. There was always so much to do towards the end of the year. And he wasn't counting the other duties that involved him as an Avenger.
"December fifteenth," he suggested, looking at the box with the little fifteen in the upper left corner. It was blank for now, and it seemed like a great date to Tony. He'd be able to drink himself into unconsciousness and sleep through the next day.
"Let me see," Pepper muttered absently, silent for a moment. "I've got a meeting at four o'clock, but I don't think it'll be a problem. It'd make it just fine."
"Great," he leaned back, scratching his stomach. "We've got the day, that's progress. Now we need a caterer. But not the last one, the food was a flop. And of course some of those buffoons who'll do the decorations - I don't know what they're called. And it's going to take a lot of waiters."
"Tony, Tony," she reassured him. "I'm not asking you to arrange the whole thing. I know you're busy. I just needed to know if we were going to host it or not. I can take care of the rest."
"What? Did you just completely unnecessarily force me to engage all three brain cells that are willing to attend to this? Oh Pepper, that's so rude of you!"
"Clown. You're in a good mood today," she giggled.
"I got breakfast."
The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Tony rubbed his forehead, waiting to see if Pepper would inquire so he could deftly respond with a joke and inform her of his new roommate.
"Ah..." she breathed. "Wow. That was quick... I see. But I'm kind of surprised she stayed there long enough to make you breakfast."
Tony whistled in surprise and slapped his hands on his thighs. "Wow! Captain America didn't tell me he was actually a chick. How did you know that, Pep?"
"Captain America?" She responded immediately, laughing nervously. "I thought... Well, whatever. What's Captain America doing at your place?"
"His apartment burned down," Tony shrugged casually. "So I offered him asylum. I'm a noble man, aren't I?"
"You certainly are, Tony." Another nervous laugh followed, and Tony longed to go back a few sentences and say things differently. Again a gap began to form between them.
He looked down at his hands and carefully rubbed one of the fingers he had injured yesterday. It hurt, and there was blood behind the nail, but it was manageable.
"Hey, Pep..." he muttered, squinting his eyes, wondering what he was actually going to say.
"I have to go, Tony," she jumped in. "I've got a mountain of work to do, and if I don't get on it now, I'll have to take it home."
"No, wait!" He shouted, and really managed to stop Pepper. The call went on, she didn't end it. "You don't have to say much, just listen to me for a minute. I'm sorry, okay? It's clear I did some serious shit that drove you away from me and I'm sorry. I'm not going to beg you to come back because... I know I'd soon mess it all up again. I just... Pepper, I'm not..." he took a deep breath and shook his head at his stutter. He could make fun of judges, insult higher authorities, but he couldn't speak calmly to Pepper. "Well, whatever. I just want you to know that I'm really sorry. And I want to ask you if things could be cool between us again, like before."
Pepper didn't answer, and the time seemed cruelly long to Tony. He squeezed his injured finger, it hurt like hell, but it distracted from his rapidly beating heart..
"You don't remember what happened at the party, do you?" she said quietly, angrily. Tony closed his eyes, cursed his drinking and prayed to all the gods he knew - hey, could Thor hear his prayers? He'd have to ask him later - and he admitted he didn't remember a thing. Something thudded on the other side and Pepper laughed bitterly.
"Well, of course! You don't even bother to remember what you drove a wedge between us with! It's unbelievable!"
"I got drunk, Pep. I just have a blackout," he frowned.
"Then enjoy it and try hard to remember," she hissed, but then her voice calmed down to the professional one which he loved only when she wasn't using it on him. "I'm not going to give you a hard time, Tony. I'm not a teenager and I can handle this like an adult. We tried, it didn't work, end of story. I'm willing to treat you the same way I did before we got together. But I won't forgive you for not even remembering what you did..."
"If you'd at least help me remember," he tried.
"No. I have to work, Tony. Take care and say hello to Captain Rogers."
A low beep announced the end of the call, and Tony collapsed into his chair and drank the entire contents of his glass. Breakfast began to press in his stomach and his good mood was gone. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to remember, but it was no use. Good thing he had Jarvis to send that broken suit to his workshop.
"Shall I do the scans, sir?" He asked. Tony smiled.
"Yeah, Jarvis. Time to get to work."