Chapter Text
Meanwhile Tony had pried the top off the honeybear and started dumping honey on his biscuits. Phil snatched the bottle and set it back on the table. "You are not eating biscuits with honey and nothing else," he said firmly. "Leave room for some gravy."
"I don't like gravy, that was my father's favorite breakfast," Tony said in a sullen tone. "I like honey."
Of course that just inspired Clint to try the same trick. "Clint! You're old enough to know better," Phil said, taking the honeybear away a second time.
Bruce was young enough to pour the honey straight into his mouth.
Steve finally put the cap back on the honeybear, washed it in the sink to remove all the sticky fingerprints, and put it back in the cabinet. "So nobody gets any more honey for breakfast because you little scamps can't behave with the bottle. Are you happy now?" he said.
Tony looked down at his plate and shook his head. Bruce stuck out his lower lip.
"Sorry," Clint muttered, not sounding very sorry at all.
"We will have strawberry jam instead of honey," Phil declared. "Everyone may have one biscuit with jam, and I'll put it on." This worked considerably better. Really, he should have known not to leave the honeybear unattended on the table.
By this time Steve had piled half a dozen sliced eggs over as many biscuits and doused the small mountain of food with about a cup of sausage gravy. Phil was gratified to see him eat enough without prompting.
"I still don't like gravy," Tony grumbled.
"Well, if you'd asked nicely then I would have made you something else," Phil said. "How about a compromise? I didn't put all the sausage into the gravy because it was about to overflow the electric skillet."
"Okay," Tony said. Phil didn't say anything when Tony ate the sausage crumbles with his hands instead of a fork.
After breakfast, Steve and Natka helped Phil clean up. "Thank you for this," she said to Phil. "It's been lovely." A small chorus of thanks sounded from the other Avengers.
"You're welcome," Phil said. "I enjoyed it too."
"Will you unlock my workshop now?" Tony asked. "I want to go change clothes. There's a project I need to work on."
"Aw, come on, Tony, this is an extra vacation day," Clint whined. "Don't spend it working! We just got new video games. You gotta come help us break them in."
"Yeah, no, this won't wait," Tony said. He pushed his chair away from the table. "Sorry."
"JARVIS unlocked the rest of the tower as soon as you completed the mission," Phil assured him. Clint scowled as Tony left the kitchen.
An hour later, Tony's voice floated through the tower. "Would everyone please assemble in the common room?" he said. "I've got something to show you."
Phil was in Clint's room, trying to convince him that Tony wasn't mad at him. It was just Tony's nature to make things, and he couldn't hold it back for very long.
What Tony had made this time made Phil catch his breath in amazement.
There on the common room wall hung a glittering case with the писанки in two neat rows. Steve's sat on the top shelf and Natka's sat on the bottom shelf, each with an engraved tag underneath indicating the artist and recipient. The case itself consisted of some sleek, silvery metal with panes and shelves of clear glass. Inside it the eggs rested in elegant yet secure stands, their colors vivid under soft white light from hidden fixtures.
"Wow, Tony, that's beautiful," Bruce said. "Um ... is it safe, though?"
"Yeah, we get kinda wild in this room sometimes. I'd hate for anything to happen to them," Clint said.
Tony whacked the front of the case with the side of his fist. Everyone jumped and protested. The case and the eggs did not so much as quiver.
"Relax, I made this thing with bulletproof glass and some scraps from an old Iron Man suit that was too wrecked to repair," Tony said. "The individual stands are based on what a friend of mine uses for his Fabergé egg collection. The whole case has vibration-reducing gear in the framework." Tony drummed his fingers against the glass. "This case is about as safe as anything can be here in the tower."
Phil looked at Steve and Natka. They were smiling, drifting a little closer to the case. They had really gone all out making those tiny works of art. The symbolism came from traditional and contemporary references gathered by JARVIS.
On the left sat the only two mismatched eggs. The one Steve made for Natka was primarily black, representing constancy and the darkest time before dawn, accented with the white of morning light and the red of action. Fine crosshatching covered most of the surface, the sieve symbolizing the separation of good from evil. Bounded by the narrow lines were a snake for protection from catastrophe and a spider for patience and artistry. The one Natka made for Steve was red, white, and blue with the blue standing for truth. The designs included a bird for rebirth, a star for growth and fortune, and a background of many spirals for the mystery of life and death.
Then came the paired eggs, one by Steve and one by Natka for each of the other team members. Steve's egg for Clint was white with barely-there sky blue representing the open air. A hawk symbolized driving away evil. Natka's egg for Clint was primarily purple for trust and patience. She had twined the entire surface in the grapes and green vines of brotherhood.
Steve's egg for Tony was a golden yellow that stood for reward and recognition. He wrapped it in wavy bands indicating wealth. Natka's egg for Tony was vivid red and decorated with the saw blades of fire and industry. Both of them had used a background of diamonds to signify knowledge.
Steve's egg for Bruce was the green of hope and broken bondage. He had arranged a pattern of smaller diamonds forming larger diamonds. Natka's egg for Bruce was the purple of trust and faith. She had enclosed the entire egg in eternity bands with the ancient meander pattern. According to legend, any malicious force entering the home would feel drawn to the egg, then become trapped in the wandering line that had no beginning or end, never to escape.
Both of Phil's eggs contained every color of dye. Four or more colors evoked family happiness, peace, and love. Both eggs also shared a background of intricate curls for defense and protection. Steve had added combs to his, which spoke of putting things in order. Natka had chosen the butterflies of a carefree childhood for hers.
"They really look great," Clint said. "Steve, Natka, you guys are amazing. Tony, the case is terrific. I'm sorry I thought you just didn't want to be around us. I didn't know you were making something awesome."
"Yeah, well, I had some things to think about too." Tony shuffled from one foot to the other, and then asked hesitantly, "Steve? What did your friend Howard do with the dummy grenades that he painted?"
Steve chuckled. "He hid them all over camp. One in the mess hall, one in the officers' latrine, and so forth. Whenever somebody touched one, it shot out a cloud of colored smoke," he said. Then he shook his head. "Howard got yelled at by the brass for it, but everyone else thought it was a great gag. Something to smile at, when there just wasn't much of that on offer, over there."
Tony smiled, just a little, and edged closer to Steve. He looked tiny against Steve's bulk. "Thanks for telling me," Tony said. Steve wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into a hug.
The other Avengers shuffled closer, reaching out to each other as they clustered around the case. Murmurs of "Happy Easter" went through the group.
Phil looked at the display. The beautiful, fragile eggshells nestled inside a case built with some of the strongest materials mankind had learned to fashion. They might seem to be hollow, but they were not: they were filled with time, with care, with love. They stood together, and nothing could budge them.
"Yes," Phil said, hugging everyone close. "Happy Easter indeed."