Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tony, in hindsight, wasn't sure if inviting the Avengers to stay with him in Stark Tower had actually been such a good idea. To be honest, the chaos which was now becoming a usual event gave him a headache.

He might overdose on Tylenol, and then who would keep Thor from setting his toaster on fire?

Yeah, exactly.

He was greeted by perhaps the most terrifying sight in history upon waking up. Bucky Barnes stood over him, like a cat waiting to pounce, looking incredibly displeased.

"Stark," he said, casual, "did you authorise Stevie to use the living room on Floor 40 as his personal art house?"

First of all, Stevie, really? Second of all, oh, yeah, he could remember doing that. Wasn't Floor 40 designated free space? Mr. Eyeliner and Darkness over there didn't make a claim on it, surely?

"No?" Tony offered. It was probably the safest option to prevent his certain asphyxiation by cold, metal arm.

"Well, it was my break room, until Stevie painted it pink."

Tony blinked, kind of blank for a second. Pink? Not that he couldn't appreciate a little pink, but, really? For real?

"Bright colours give me headaches," Bucky complained. "And I don't have another break room."

There were other free break rooms, Tony thought. He briefly went over the schematics in his head. There was the one on Floor 28, but that one had the broken wall from where Tony... accidentally dangerous chemicals all over the place. There was also Floor 54's, but he was pretty sure Nat had taken to using that one for knife throwing practice. Somehow, he didn't feel like Bucky would appreciate knives in his face, or scratching the perfectly polished surface of his arm.

"You can take Floor 44's break room," he said. "Nobody's using that one, unless either Barton's been using the vents to get to it, or JARVIS," he aimed a pointed look at the ceiling, "has been failing on his monitoring duties again."

Bucky crossed his arms for a moment, considering. "Alright," he settled on. "Mark it in your records or something. I don't want anyone disturbing my quiet time."

He slipped out the door as unsettlingly quietly as he'd come, and Tony was left in silence.

Yeah, this was a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad idea.

After that unpleasant start to his day, he sneaked into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee. He was hoping for peace, but he was instead greeted with a chaotic scene, as per usual. It seemed as if Thor had broken the microwave this time. What for, he had no idea. The god's diet consisted of alcohol, Pop-Tarts, and meat. None of those were particularly palatable after a good microwaving.

"My friends," Thor began solemnly, "it seems that this 'popcorn' is not, in fact, 'microwavable', after all. The instructions assured me it was safe, but it appears I have been deceived."

Tony stared after his precious creation, cradled like a child in Thor's hands. Smoke rose off it in great billows, which somehow seemed to rub the failure in Tony's very handsome and very disappointed face.

"That microwave was my Titanic, except without the sinking part," Tony said, horrified. "I made that specifically to be infallible! Stark creations don't just break, especially if I've designed them for the sole purpose of not breaking!" He turned to the audience, consisting of a very unimpressed Natasha and a few other slightly confused Avengers. "What sorcery is this?"

He glared at the microwave, feeling suddenly let down by his own genius. "Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!"

Steve, bless the man, edged towards him slowly, as if approaching a wild animal. "It's okay, Tony. I'm sure you can make another one."

"But I had a name for it," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I was going to code in an AI..."

He pretended he hadn't heard Clint's muffled snort from across the room. "If you love it so much, why don't you marry it then?"

"You're all three-year-olds," Natasha said, mouth twitching up at the corners. It was perhaps the closest Tony had ever seen her to being genuinely happy.

"Glad someone sees me for the youthful being I am."

Actual secret housewife Clint Barton made them burgers for lunch. Tony kind of saw why Agent Coulson liked him so much.

"Oh my God, these are works of art," Tony mumbled in between mouthfuls. "You get an A+ for this assignment, Barton. I'm beginning to see the use in you, after all."

"Fuck you, too, Stark, and eat your damn burger." Clint slapped another one on his plate, splashing him in the face (and goatee) with ketchup.

Bucky and Natasha, the bastards, surveyed the scene with a general air of amusement. Like they were the pinnacles of maturity.

Steve, and Tony honestly did feel bad for him, seemed, as per the norm, really, really confused. Tony wondered what it was like, being so out of place. The poor man had Bucky, at least. They'd reformed their friendship as soon as the panda-eyed ninety-year-old had decided that looking menacing and punching through steering wheels wasn't what he wanted to do with his life. And, honestly, Tony couldn't blame him.

Tony, secretly, inside the depths of his electrical heart, kind of wanted to be Steve's friend, too. The guy was nice, had a wicked sense of humour (not that anyone would have guessed), and was certainly not lacking in the brain department (or, uh, the pants department).

Especially not the pants department.

Steve was hot.

You know, like, ridiculously hot.

Tony would never seriously admit to that, though. He'd probably offend Steve's 1940's sensibilities.

Clint and Agent Coulson were holding a Mario Kart marathon in the rec room. A sick part of him wanted to snap a photo and upload it to Tumblr, but he refrained, out of the goodness of his heart. Who ever said Anthony Stark wasn't considerate?

He was, however, a little concerned that Thor would forget his own strength and send the Wiimote flying through his incredibly expensive television screen. It was the only non-holographic interface he had in the whole damn tower, but he still loved it. If another of his electronics were to be murdered in cold blood, he would probably cry.

At least Steve seemed to be enjoying himself. Tony had no idea what magic he'd been performing to get to first place, but Tony was proud of him for adapting to modern society so quickly, even if that meant seriously offending Clint and Natasha, the team champions.

"Dammit, Rogers, how can you even...?"

Clint had this pained expression on his face that Tony took great pleasure in. You know, as revenge. For the ketchup.

Natasha, who was much more reasonable, seemed actually kind of pleased. Maybe it was because this was the first time they'd all seen Steve have a positive experience with post-war tech.

Things were looking up, and Tony's idea to house a team of crazy superheroes wasn't really as terrible as he'd initially thought.

The evenings were when things got a little crazy. And by crazy, Tony meant absolutely batshit insane.

See, to introduce Thor, Steve, and Bucky to contemporary society, he'd come up with this little idea called Educational Media Experience. Or, you know, Glorified Movie Night. He'd figured they'd binge watch the classics with a bucket of popcorn, all cuddled on the couch like a team of six puppies, not a team of six highly trained Earth-defenders.

Yeah, except, no.

Educational Media Experience got a little ridiculous sometimes. Like tonight, as they'd foolishly decided to binge watch Twilight, just because Clint said it would be worth it to see Steve's horrified face.

"Is the really pale one sick?" was the first thing out of Steve's mouth.

Clint choked on his popcorn, and Thor almost killed him by slapping his back. Tony then, without dispute, decided that Clint was an absolute genius, and that he deserved all the awards. All of them.

"Is he a ghost?" Bucky guessed.

"I mean, he's dead, but, uh, no," Clint said, while still coughing. Thor raised a hand to help him again, but Natasha blocked it with her arm.

"Is he a human snowman?" Steve asked. He looked somewhat terrified.

Tony choked on his hot chocolate. Oh, sweet Jesus.

"Clearly, he's the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man," Natasha explained.

"Really? What's that?"

How she could keep a straight face, Tony could never hope to understand.

"Wait, he sparkles? What the fuck?" Bucky turned to them, as if expecting the obviously and entirely inevitable punchline.

There was no obviously and entirely inevitable punchline. Or, rather, there was no obviously and entirely inevitable punchline other than Tony accidentally snorting hot chocolate in hysterical laughter.

"So, that happened," Clint said, later.

Steve stared at the rolling credits.

"I think my life has been redefined," he said.

So, yeah, this wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

Chapter Text

Tony's eyes flickered open to the sound of the alert tone on his phone, specifically the one he set for more kitchen problems. If Thor had broken another piece of equipment...

He rushed out the door, breezing past a groggy-looking Bruce, almost flew straight into the elevator (barely avoiding smashing his face), and out again to the kitchen's connecting hallway.

There were no signs of Thor, and in the god's usual place were a very confused looking pair of super soldiers.

"This isn't, uh... this isn't how coffee works, is it?" Bucky asked.

"I think I made a mistake somewhere," Steve sighed. "I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be making groaning noises."

"It sounds like it's dying."

"Again?" Tony aimed a disbelieving look at the now-smoking coffee maker. "I mean, I actually had a name for that one. It was Cody, if you were wondering. You killed Cody."

Steve, like a kicked puppy, slumped in defeat. "I was sure I had it right this time..."

"At least you didn't set it on fire," Bucky said with a shrug.

Bruce, still looking dreary, slid into the kitchen. His face crumpled as he was met with the sight of Cody's shameful demise. "There go my latte plans."

"It's fine. I had another one in the works anyway. So, in a way, good ol' Cap here has actually freed me from the guilt of murdering Cody in cold blood. So, thanks, Steve. You're a great help."

"Yay," Bucky deadpanned.

Thor appeared from the shadows of the hallway, looking somewhat pleased with himself. "I see I'm not alone in the destruction of Tony's cooking appliances."

"My caffeine?" Nat hissed from behind a corner. She shied away from the light, and Tony could practically feel Bucky resisting the sweet, sweet temptation of another Twilight joke. He hadn't stopped since yesterday night.

Nat, noticing this, too, seemed to get even more thunderous. Tony almost pissed his pants.

Bucky burst into the living room, hair flying all over the place. James Barnes was truly the definition of a hot mess. "We're out of milk," he snapped. "We had a full gallon yesterday."

"I was parched after sparring this morning," Thor said. "I apologise."

"A whole gallon?" Bucky gasped, looking around wildly, expecting answers from people who were no better off. "Four quarts? 128 ounces?"

"Yes, that is what I-"

"No, seriously? Stark, get the car, we're going out."

Tony could only stare in abject confusion. He was lost at an entire fucking gallon.

Who even drank that much?

Bucky walked menacingly into the supermarket. He looked like he was about to go on a major SHIELD mission, not a casual trip to the store.

Tony, with a few others who had elected to go along, followed hurriedly after him. Steve seemed gobsmacked at the sheer size of the place, even though it wasn't that impressive. Hell, Tony had gotten lost in a supermarket once. And wasn't that a fun time. Thor eyed the Pop-Tarts longingly, which was ridiculous, considering the god had eaten at least 20 in the past day alone.

"Alright," Bucky hissed, determined. "I can do this. This is happening."

Tony trailed along, enjoying Steve's wonder, Thor's drooling, and Bucky's disturbing loyalty to food. He held out the shopping list.

"Steve alphabetised it," Tony offered, as if this would make Bucky feel better somehow.

Bucky took it from him, scrutinised it, and then raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Vodka?"

"That's Natasha's doing. Not that I disapprove, which I don't. At all."

Bucky seemed placated by the prospect of hard liquor, so Tony took that as a win.

"First thing on the list..." he trailed off. "Apples. Wait, we eat fruit?"

"Dummy makes smoothies sometimes. And Steve's a health nut."

Bucky cringed at that. It had probably brought up bad memories of Steve's 1940's eating habits. Tony wasn't about to ask, and he wasn't really sure he wanted to know, anyway. Maybe Steve had force-fed him salad, or something equally horrific. Poor Bucky, he'd been through so much.

Taking Tony's answer for what it was, and kindly not demanding he elaborate about Dummy, Bucky marched to the fruit isle, casually ignoring the strange looks from store-goers. Not that anyone could blame them. It's not every day you see a band of superheroes strolling through the supermarket, eyeing Pop-Tarts as if they were the second coming of Christ.

They moved through the isles methodically, picking up boxes and boxes of what Thor thought each time was the most fascinating thing he'd ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. Asgardians were most obviously deprived. The poor god, who had lived his entire life without Nutella.

Bucky, much to the store's collective terror, took one look at the blueberry muffins, reached out his metal arm, and swept them all into the rapidly over-filling shopping cart. It was probably a good thing that Tony was a billionaire, otherwise he might have been literally eaten out of house and home. Though, it wasn't as if Tony could disapprove of the man's taste. Blueberries tasted like fucking rainbows and unicorns.

"Almost done," Bucky informed them. "Yoghurt." He looked expectant.

"Oh, yeah, that's mine," Tony said. "I make yoghurt-covered blueberries sometimes."

Bucky's expression mirrored Thor's when he'd seen the Pop-Tarts earlier. "Yoghurt-covered blueberries, huh?"

Tony realised, slowly, that he'd just created a monster.

Steve and Bucky sat in the kitchen, staring awkwardly at a bag of blueberries and a tub of yoghurt.

"Now what? Do you have a recipe book?"

Tony looked blankly at them. A recipe book? No? Books? What? This was the 21st century.

"I think we need to teach you about Google."

The two soldiers both made the same confused expression. "The number?" Bucky questioned.

"You have a lot to learn, young padawan."

"So, I can just... find the answer to any question whenever I want?" Steve was awestruck. Tony wasn't surprised. The Internet was a magical place, great for hardcore porn and cats running into walls.

"That about covers it, yep."

"Holy shit," Bucky said. The somewhat deviant expression on his face was concerning.

"JARVIS, could you pull up a list of recommended searches?"

"Of course, sir."

As expected, Steve's eyes about lit up like a firefly when he noticed "cute puppy videos". Tony was screwed. He'd never be able to live this down, and he'd be bombarded by Steve's "forwards from grandma" emails forever.

"This," Bucky snapped, sitting on the couch in the living room, startling the ever-loving fuck out of Tony, "is fucking genius. Not to insult your smarts, Stark, but it may even be better than you."

"None of you appreciate me around here," Tony grumbled, trying to ignore the montage of Youtube's most popular videos streaming through Bucky's iPad and instead focusing on the design plans before him. "I feel very unloved. Truly, I might even shed a tear."

"You can't hold a candle to videos of singing cats in Pop-Tarts shitting rainbows. Admit your defeat."

"Not in a million years, Barnes."

"Is this really what we do for entertainment in the 21st century?" Steve asked. "Watch videos of animated cats?" He seemed a mixture of impressed, horrified, and disappointed simultaneously. It made for a very interesting expression.

"I'm afraid so, Capsicle. Tastes change."

"To cats in toaster strudels?" Steve gave him a patented disbelieving look, his greatest skill.

"Yes?"

"Lighten up, Steve!" Bucky said cheerily. His face, usually threatening, was now more like a baby kitten's, morphed by the sheer blinding brightness of his smile. Tony could see what Steve saw in him, through the scary, knife-wielding exterior. "This is great!"

"Ahh, yes, the feline in baked dessert," Thor said, from over by the kitchen, where Natasha was supervising him with the toaster. "A Midgardian work of art, I've been told."

"Work of art is one word for it," Steve laughed. "Though, the song is kinda catchy."

"See? We'll have you warming up to the modern age in no time," Tony said. "And all we needed were a few cat videos, who'd 'a thunk it?"

"These "cat videos", they are most enjoyable indeed," Thor said, voice blazing.

The Captain laughed warmly, and all qualms Tony had about moving the Avengers into his tower disappeared.

Chapter Text

Ever since Tony had introduced Steve to the Internet, the super soldier had been trying to update himself on recent history as fast as possible. Honestly, Tony could appreciate the man's conviction, but he drew the line at overusing the built in StarkPhone emoji. Seriously, it was like trying to decipher code sometimes.

This morning, naturally, was no different. He walked into the living room, nursing a coffee from the newly-installed machine (Casey. Her name was Casey. And she was 100% Avenger-proof!), and noticed Steve in the corner of the couch, looking deeply engrossed in something on his laptop. Tony was simultaneously very intrigued and mildly horrified by the way Steve was making faces at the screen. Slightly disgusted faces.

Oh, shit. Had Steve discovered Internet porn? Had Tony corrupted his innocent mind forever?

"Morning, Cap," he bridged.

Steve jumped guiltily. "Hey, Tony." He kept glancing at the screen every so often, as if scared Tony was going to barge right in,spy over his shoulder, and never be the same again. Obviously he didn't know that nothing could shock the great Anthony Stark -- especially not porn.

"I know that face," Tony said. "Don't worry, after a life with the Internet, nothing can surprise me anymore. Not even tentacles."

Steve would probably compartmentalise that for later. Poor man.

"I just... have you ever heard of something called 'fanart'?" Steve questioned.

Tony stopped and let this information sink in for a moment. Oh, sweet jesus. It wasn't Tony who had to worry about never being the
same again.

"Oh, god." Tony rubbed a hand through his hair. "Have I let you scar yourself for life? Maybe I should have put parental controls on that thing."

"No! I'm not traumatised or anything," Steve laughed, raising his hands. "I just... well, I wasn't really expecting half of the Internet to want us to, uh, you know, fondue."

So, it wasn't just any fanart. It was the specific breed of Tumblr-influenced madness that Darcy couldn't help but sink her claws into, and then email en masse to Tony's email account at 3 in the morning when he was least expecting it.

That kind of fanart.

Both the best and the worst kind.

"Well, you know, the Internet. They're obviously insane, half of them. Maybe more than half. Probably more like 75%, actually." Tony carefully peaked over the screen to see just what exactly Darcy had done this time, because it was her. There was no way Steve would accidentally smash the keyboard one day and get something resembling "Captain America and Iron Man Slash". "So, uh, if you'll just give me that, I have a very angry reply to send to Ms. Lewis."

Steve gave him a dumbfounded look. "How did you know? I thought JARVIS said that nobody had permission to access my email-"

"Don't worry, Capsicle, I haven't been eavesdropping on your private love letters. I just have experience with Darcy's brand of trolling."

Tony could see the gears working in the Captain's head as he went over his internal dictionary of Internet slang. His eyes lit up when he reached the definition. "So, this was a prank?"

"No, just Darcy trying to 'mess with interpersonal relationships'." That, of course, was a direct quote from Natasha, which Tony had heard a few days ago when he'd sat her down and asked her if she could threaten Darcy with knives and stabbing and other Natasha-related things. Of course, she'd explained what Darcy was doing, and then given her full approval. The traitor.

"But, why would she do something like that?"

"She probably hopes the team will have a mass orgy or something to 'canonise all her ships'," Tony grumbled. He didn't particularly expect Steve to understand a word that came out of his mouth, but it was nice to get it out anyway. "Let me sit down next to you," he sighed. "I have an email to write."

"Okay," Steve said, and patted the couch next to him. He smiled when Tony sat down, and offered, quite literally, a shoulder to lean on.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this man was a saint.

Around lunch time, Clint came to sit next to them on the couch. Tony had long since sent his email to Darcy, which, though he'd deny it eternally if asked, consisted of him begging and offering vast quantities of Nutella for links to more fics that didn't confuse "you're" and "your". It worked. Perfectly. And Tony was in a Very Good Mood, even though he now had to send another email to Pepper asking her to direct the shipment of ten jars of Nutella, one packet of watermelon gum, and precisely two and a half lime skittles (which, holy fuck, Darcy wasn't easy to bargain with).

"I'm hungry," Clint whined, sprawling himself all over the couch. At least he was vaguely squishy and comfortable.

"Kitchen's that way," Tony said, pointing.

"Can't we get take-out? I'm too hot to cook. It's 90 degrees out."

"I'm only okay with this if we don't get Chinese. Seriously, we've eaten Chinese every day since Thor discovered sweet and sour chicken. That's not cool. I have to worry about maintaining my lean figure."

Clint snorted. "'Lean figure'." He air-quoted the words, adding insult to further injury. He was an asshole, but he made a mean burger and Nat liked him, so Tony couldn't kick him out of the tower. Plus, there were occasional times where he helped convince the Team to do, as Fury put it, "really, really stupid shit that I have to pay to deal with". And pissing off Fury was invaluable.

"Can I try something new?" Steve asked. "I've heard all sorts of stories from Natasha, and it really sparked my curiosity."

Clint and Tony eyed each other, both clearly imagining Steve trying to eat some of the delicious (and also sometimes terrifying, especially when still moving) food served at the local Japanese restaurant. It was the closest thing within a one mile radius that probably offered food that wasn't also lethal. Not that Tony had a problem with that, but they needed to start Steve off easy. He still had war flashbacks of the one time in Bangkok with the snakes.

"Japanese it is, then," Tony said.

Steve looked unsurprised at the wordless conversation that had just taken place.

Tony and Clint were proud of themselves. Steve was literally looking at the plate as if it were a gift from God. No war flashbacks and no terrified Steve meant more delicious take-out that wasn't sweet and sour chicken. Plus, Steve was adorable, especially when enjoying "exotic" food.

"I never thought I'd get to try Japanese food," Steve said, through blissful mouthfuls of sashimi. "I mean, we were at war. But I guess it really has been a lifetime."

"Oh, the times, they are a-changin'," Clint singsonged.

Tony was just about to (very attractively) shove an entire piece of tempura down his throat, when he noticed the flash of cameras from outside.

Oh.

The paparazzi.

Well, he might as well finish his meal before facing hell.

The way out of the restaurant was like phasing through a brick wall. He wasn't one of the X-Men and he wasn't a ghost. He couldn't just pass through walls. Especially not moving, shouting walls with cameras and microphones. Who let slip that they were going out, anyway? Whatever, it's not like any of them had a secret identity.

Clint, the brilliant, smug bastard, shouted a steady stream of "no comment, no comment, no comment!" Steve just looked baffled.

"What's so special about eating at a restaurant? Why would anyone read about that?"

Tony wished he had an answer.

They got home with Thor's help (though this was not what he'd pictured when he thought about "riding a Norse god"). There was a general air of tension about the tower, and Tony was slightly hesitant to check the headlines.

He asked himself, as everyone on the Team did when trying to be confident, WWND? What would Natasha do?

She'd probably sue the magazine companies. Tony wasn't about to go that far, but he would read the headlines, cringe, and then run away to the workshop to invent a cloaking device.

"Cap and Iron on Romantic Date! Is Hawkeye the Third Wheel?"

Oh. Fuck. He was never going to live this one down. Clint would probably laugh himself all the way to the air vents where he hid like some kind of tree snake, Darcy's teasing would be merciless, and Nat would be too busy laughing to defend him. He wasn't even about to mention Steve's reaction. The man would probably blush himself silly for ten hours straight. They might as well paint him red now.

"Sir, there is a new email in your inbox from Ms. Lewis," JARVIS announced.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

"Go ahead and open it. Oh, and create a new project folder on my private server. Label it 'Anti-paparazzi Cloaking Device'. Thanks."

"The email is opened on the screen to your left. Might I advise you wear headphones?"

Nervously slipping on the headphones he borrowed (yes, borrowed) from Bruce's iPod, he clicked on the email. In it was a single link to Youtube video.

A single link to a Youtube video of him and Steve walking out of the restaurant, practically clinging to each other, with "Let's Get It On" playing in the background.

It already had 1 million views.

He needed a drink. And maybe some Nutella. How much would he have to pay to buy some back from Darcy, he wondered?

Chapter Text

Tony awoke to JARVIS's alarm, which was set to play hardstyle rave music until he could be bothered to slide out from underneath the covers. All in all, it wasn't that bad a way to start his morning. That was, until JARVIS informed him with uncharacteristic nervousness, "You may want to check on Captain Rogers, sir."

Tony tried with all his might to resist scrolling through the many possible scenarios in which Steve had somehow managed to maim himself, fall out of a window, electrocute himself on one of Thor's broken toasters, and/or discover Japanese pornos, but in the end, he failed almost impressively. He rushed into the living room with reckless abandon and was greeted by the sight of Steve, perfectly alive and well, reading a book.

What the hell was the problem, then?

Being the incredibly gifted, highly talented genius that he was, he realised in a few seconds what Steve had gotten himself into. Tony's eyes rested on the ominous grey tie pictured on the cover and went over the many ways he could try and explain Fifty Shades of Grey to someone born in the 1920's.

He drew a blank. Obviously.

"Steve," he managed, after he had a talk with his brain and finally managed to convince his mouth to form words. His voice came out embarrassingly high. A mouse wasn't exactly the image he was going for, but it would do. These were dire straits. "Maybe you should put the book down before you cause yourself irreparable mental scarring that even I won't be able to fix. Please. Quickly. Preferably right now, immediately, this second."

"Hold on, Tony. I'm just at the good part," Steve replied, clearly not having heard a single word he'd just said, oh sweet Jesus.

Tony was just about to gently rip the book straight out of the captain's unsuspecting hands, when Steve held up a finger. "I know what this is. I may have been born yesterday, but I know that folks don't always turn the lights out in the bedroom, if you know what I mean."

Tony stopped in his tracks and lowered his hand.

Oh.

Oh.

Okay.

When Clint walked into the living room with them, he was wearing his "I'm Moping and Wallowing in my Manpain" face. This meant either a), they were fresh out of ridiculously fruity candy, which was highly unlikely as Tony always kept a well-maintained stock, or b), Natasha told him to do something he didn't want to do. It was probably b.

"Nat just told me that Fury told her that the Council told him that we have to do an interview," Clint announced, looking like a cross between a kicked puppy and Veruca Salt from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. In short, Clint Barton was an adorable, petulant child.

Not unlike Tony himself could be at times. Rare times.

"Relax. I've been doing interviews since I first learnt to talk. Probably even before then, if you count baby me babbling nonsense at the camera as an interview."

Clint frowned. "Your idea of an interview involves eating, getting drunk, or flirting with the staff. Nat will roast me alive if we try-"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get your panties in a twist, Barton. We've got this covered."

Steve looked up at them from where he was engrossed in reading his hardcore pornography and shrugged. "I trust you. Just please tell me I don't have to sing, dance, or dress in any ridiculous costumes."

"Curses!" cried Tony. "Foiled again! There go my brilliant plans."

Tony could have sworn he saw Steve roll his eyes.

The interview was supposed to go like this: the team would sit down, answer a few questions without divulging top secret information, crack a few jokes, and leave.

It actually went a bit differently.

And by a bit, Tony meant a lot.

"I don't think I can pull this off," Bruce said, fumbling around with his glasses anxiously. "What if something goes wrong? There's a live audience."

"Sure you can," Tony reassured. He offered out one of Steve's meticulously packed plastic food bags, which Bruce took gratefully. "Have some blueberries."

"Alright," Steve said, stepping back from where he was peeking his head onstage. "We're up."

Tony and Steve were used to the stage, but the rest of the Avengers were a little rusty. And God knows what Thor thought an interview was supposed to consist of. If anything, he'd be the one most likely to break out into song and dance, not Steve. Really, it was evident just from the tense set of their shoulders as they shuffled out to face the audience that the team was unprepared. Tony would have liked to blame Fury for this, but unfortunately, the man hadn't really had a choice in the matter. PR and media coverage were necessary parts of a public persona, Tony knew this better than anyone. It just worried him, was all. He didn't want anyone to feel pressured.

The team sat down together, huddled onto a couch, squishing the most inexperienced members in the middle like some kind of protective superhero sandwich. Not that Tony could come up with a better analogy.

After the host had welcomed them onto the show, Tony braced himself for the questions. He just hoped nobody poked their noses into places they didn't belong. He was only so good at deflecting, especially when he had to worry about six other people.

"So, tell us about your every day lives, what's it like to live together in Avengers' Tower?"

"I've never been so caffeine deprived in my life," Clint grumbled. "Between two super soldiers and a Norse god, we go through coffee makers like a wrecking ball."

Steve positively beamed. "I understood that reference!"

Tony relaxed, settling himself into the familiar atmosphere. Maybe it wasn't about to blow up in their faces, after all.

Then, they asked about the video from the Japanese restaurant.

He'd spoken too soon.

Desperately wishing the ground could swallow him whole, he watched on in horror as the rest of the team snickered. Steve, however, looked entirely unembarrassed, if not a little defensive.

"And if Iron Man and I were together? So what? Haven't we changed at all since I was around?"

Ignoring the burst of warmth at seeing Steve being, well, Steve, he thought ahead to the inevitable. Fury was going to give them all his signature death glare. Which, not okay. For a man with only one eye, he could stare down even Natasha herself.

Tony was not looking forward to it.

Fury said only this, "Tell me in advance next time you plan on challenging the status quo on national television, otherwise, keep your damn mouths shut."

If Tony had a tail, it'd be between his legs right about now.

When they got home, Tony decided on an emergency session of Educational Media Experience, if only to keep Clint's smug comments at bay for another couple of hours.

Of course, it just happened to be the very same smug asshole's turn to choose the movie. Naturally, within five minutes, Clint and Natasha (since Clint always included her in his movie-watching selections) settled on Brokeback Mountain.

This was not his best day.

He was beet red from the get-go, but Steve just seemed to smile like the sap he was or wipe away a few inconspicuous tears.

"That was really touching," Steve said, at the end.

Clint seemed satisfied anyway.

Chapter Text

James Buchanan Barnes was hot, but he was also kind of insane. He was also the reason Tony was cramming himself into the nearest dark corner (eight words: never get into prank wars with former assassins) and hoping that, like an ostrich, he could shove his head into the sand and disappear. Maybe threaten to eviscerate scary men wearing eyeliner with his powerful ostrich legs.

Truthfully, the metaphor was getting away from him.

The nearest dark corner was the only frequently unoccupied room in the Tower, which also happened to belong to Steve. Hiding in it was probably an incredible invasion of Steve's privacy and would undoubtedly warrant his "Captain America Is Disappointed In You, Son" face -- that is, if Tony were stupid enough to tell him. Luckily, Anthony Edward Stark was nothing if not Very Smart. Plus, JARVIS was contractually obligated to follow all of his requests, like conveniently deleting the security footage.

It was now, as he searched out JARVIS's nearest input panel, that his surroundings began to sink in. Steve's room was gorgeously furnished, all mahogany and tasteful, dark colours, which he nodded at approvingly. Sure, it was organised a little too perfectly, but Tony honestly wasn't surprised to see Steve acted like he was a guest in his own home. No amount of convincing had ever let Steve feel like he could truly unwind, Tony knew. Even removing his own name from the Tower had proven similarly useless.

He frowned and brushed a hand over the spotless coffee table, hoping to find something that looked lived-in, some sort of sign that Steve liked it here in this big, ugly building in New York. There was a well-worn sketchbook, a half-empty bottle of Gatorade, and a few pennies, but nothing else.

Having no recollection of ever seeing a room untouched by dust or motor oil in his life, he was frankly a little disturbed. Like, seriously. Place was a bite-sized candy bar of a ghost town. He didn't know how Steve could stand it.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"This is wrong on so many levels, let me tell you." He shook his head. "I need to remind Steve he actually lives here. Seriously, don't let me forget."

"I would remind you that Captain Rogers may actually prefer living in such a manner, Master Stark."

"No way. Doesn't fit him. He paints."

If JARVIS had an eyebrow to raise, he would, further reasserting Tony's firm stance on giving him absolutely no facial features whatsoever.

"Artsy types don't have clean rooms. It just doesn't work like that."

"Captain Rogers has a well-documented habit of neatness and organisation."

"For food, then yeah, can't fault you there -- he's definitely way too organised. But not with art. He gets creepily focused on his art." He laughed. "Someone could paint him, and he wouldn't notice."

"Very well, sir," JARVIS said, amusement colouring his artificial voice. He learned to feel quick, quicker than Tony'd predicted, which made him absurdly proud. "I defer to your better judgement."

"Of course you do, JARVIS. Who wouldn't?"

He hummed thoughtfully, cataloguing all the ways he could make Steve's humble abode less humble and more extravagant. Or, at least homely.

His gaze returned to the sketchbook he'd noticed earlier, and his natural Stark curiosity chose then to come back in full force. Hopefully it wasn't porn, then he really would have to ask JARVIS to delete the security footage. Gently, he cradled it and its fraying pages and opened.

So, it turned out all Steve ever drew was Bucky, some buildings, and, well, Tony himself. He'd almost jumped out of his skin when the actual first page decided to casually greet him with his own damn face.

Did Steve's scary Russian boyfriend know? Did Steve paint him like one of his French girls? Was that hot? It was probably hot, and he was okay with that. He was okay with eagerly anticipating Captain America's nude portraits. He'd really have to erase the security footage now, though. Others might not be so accepting.

"JARVIS, for the record, none of this happened, and I was never here."

"Of course, sir," JARVIS intoned mildly. "In the case of further inspection, I shall inform Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes that the security cameras have unfortunately and conveniently malfunctioned. Never fear, sir, I am positive that they will not be at all suspicious."

"I am honestly feeling so attacked right now, JARVIS. Remind me to lower your sarcasm settings."

"I do not find myself in possession of any sarcasm settings, sir."

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Remind me to create some."

"I will endeavour to do so."

"When someone draws your gorgeous face extensively, does that mean they like you?" Tony asked no-one. He'd thought he was alone, but apparently Thor was there, since there was suddenly a mug of mead in his hand.

"I sense you are having romantic troubles, Man of Iron."

"I think Steve wants to tap this," Tony said solemnly. "I hope his intimidating heterosexual life partner is down for it, because I am not about to say no."

"You should make haste and declare your true feelings, my friend. If not, it may soon prove far too late." Thor looked wistfully into the distance. "Do not follow in my footsteps."

"This is about your Horny brother, isn't it?" Tony shot him a speculative look. "You guys have this weird tragic romance vibe about you."

"He felt unloved by all his family. You must not let that happen to yours. The bond between shieldbrothers can prove as worthy as any of your kin."

"Yeah, blood of the covenant, water of the womb. I've heard it before." Tony gave him what he hoped was a sufficiently shieldbrotherly pat on the back. "I'll keep that in mind, big guy."

He was designing new tech in the lab when his phone began making beautiful, Russian Tetris noises at him in increasingly aggressive ways. Bucky's ringtone. Shit.

Wasted Raccoon Man - 3:41 PM

You actually thought I wasn't gonna be suspicious? You do know me, right?

T. Stark - 3:42 PM

JARVIS is a traitor to my cause.

T. Stark - 3:42 PM

Wait, shit, there weren't actually any nude portraits in there, were there? I know you fossils have to adjust, but we do have sexting
now, you know.

Wasted Raccoon Man - 3:42 PM

You have some real issues, pal. Sketchbook's private, but not that private.

Tony fought down disappointment. Damn, no Winter Soldier pin-ups. The world was a sorrier place for it.

Wasted Raccoon Man - 3:42 PM

Sorry we're sexting without you, doll. Don't go feeling left out or anythin'.

T. Stark - 3:42 PM

Really, "doll?" It's like you're not even trying.

T. Stark - 3:43 PM

I know you're playing up that Brooklyn accent, Barnes.

Wasted Raccoon Man - 3:43 PM

Dames tell me it sounds sexier. Few fellas, too. (;

Tony dropped his phone.

Patriotic Dorito - 4:01 PM

I am so sorry, Tony. Bucky's just being an ass.

Patriotic Dorito - 4:01 PM

We would never sext without you, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Sweet Lord Jesus. The world was wrong about Captain America, champion of American Traditional Values.

T. Stark - 4:02 PM

!!!! Is this real life?

T. Stark - 4:02 PM

I appreciate the generosity, boys. <3

Because Thor wasn't wrong, it was better to show the team a little love now and then. Plus, it was good for his ego.

Chapter Text

So, about giving JARVIS facial features. Yeah, Tony did that. And now he was moping about it at 3 in the morning.

"Do you always do stuff you pledge not to do?" Bucky asked. "I leave you twerps alone for, like, a week, I swear."

"In my defence, I didn't actually see any of this coming," Tony told him calmly. "Also, Scary Ultra Killer Death Robots."

"You're a genius. Seeing things coming is in your job description."

"It's in Pietro's job description, not mine," Tony griped. "You weren't even here. Where'd you run your toned ass off to?"

"Spy business," Bucky said with a smooth shrug. "Top secret. If I told you, I'd have to kill you. You know the drill."

"Uh, yeah, and I'm not cool with the drill."

"Fury assigned me on sniper duty," Bucky explained. "He's rallying all of us supers, y'know. Figured it was 'cause of all the new supervillains that keep popping up out of the woodwork."

Tony sighed. "Oh, great. Well, tell him thanks. Now I have, like, six more 'twerps' to take care of."

Bucky waved a metal-plated finger. "We have a secret base now, though."

"It's all still on my dime."

Bucky gave another shrug. "You love us, really."

"Oh, yeah. What would I do without you?"

He knew all too well, thanks to Wanda. Apparently, he'd have a complete breakdown.

He went to bed late and woke up late, like usual. Only, now there was no-one to hound him about it. What was it JARVIS had last said to him? Right. "Respectfully, sir, you should have gotten up hours ago. It's past noon already!"

"FRIDAY, what's the time?"

"It is currently 12:03 PM, sir."

"Right. Should've gotten up hours ago. Good for productivity."

He sighed, toed off his socks, and peaked outside. Of course, it was completely empty. Even the elevator seemed somehow quieter. Or maybe that was because he had to stand around and wait for it to close on its own now. Not that he expected Vision to monitor that sort of thing.

God, he needed some Froot Loops and a cup of coffee. This was teenage-level maudlin.

Tony stared down at his boring, bland cereal and threw his spoon into the bowl with flourish, accidentally splashing milk all over the coffee table. Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, then handed him her napkin.

"I'm not cool with this complete betrayal. There was a rule. Avengers don't steal other Avengers' Froot Loops."

"Wanda didn't know," Pietro said defensively, like he was the Cereal Thief, instead of his wack job twin sister. "She gets up at, ah, 'ass o'clock in the morning'. There is never anyone around to tell her, Stark."

Tony's eyebrows furrowed. This called for action. He could easily assign them all portions of the kitchen, like he had for Thor and his entire shelves of Pop-Tarts. It'd take no time at all, in fact. He'd simply have to make the necessary arrangements, and... "J, make a note to remind me-"

Oh, wait.

New note. Nothing worse than awkward, pitying silence in Avengers Mansion during breakfast. Not that he could file it. He figured FRIDAY wouldn't exactly appreciate becoming his glorified artificial secretary. Pepper hadn't even agreed to write this sort of thing down for him, and JARVIS only ever lent himself to the lowly Stark Post-It Note Service because Tony had begged.

"Would you like me to write that down for you?"

He startled briefly as an almost familiar hand came to rest on his shoulder for a passing moment.

"You Christmas-coloured saint, you," Tony said solemnly.

A wink. "Of course, Tony."

Bucky narrowed his eyes. "Did your Deus Ex Robot Butler just wink at you?"

Steve blinked. "Did his what what, now?"

"I think I prefer Christmas-coloured saint." Vision smiled wryly. "I've made a note in your files, Tony."

"You can still access the system? You go around picking up magical hammers, breaking through my secured firewalls..."

Vision had the decency to look sheepish. "Only because I am still, on a purely technical level, authorised to use it. Or rather, I am the system, in a way, and I cannot exactly deny myself access."

"Well, that makes sense," Bucky added, through mouthfuls of his toast. "Relax, Stark. Your elite technological skills are still unmatched. Ain't nothin' to shatter your fragile masculinity."

"I resent that implication, Barnes. I was just checking," Tony protested. "Can't fault a guy for being too careful, right?"

Bucky snorted. "Sure. Just go easy on Maria, pal. He's only been a real boy for a few days."

"That sorta reference will fly over their heads, Buck," Steve teased.

"Kids these days. Don't know what they're missin' out on, with their fancy cellophones and iTrays."

Tony leveled him with a glare.

"Sorry, ePads."

"Frankly, I'm a little disturbed right now."

Steve grinned. "I got this. aBooks, right?"

"You're all dead to me."

Tony could admit it to himself, he'd been staring awkwardly at Vision, like, a lot recently. JARVIS was his everything, really. Not just his greatest creation, but his best friend. He'd seen Tony at his worst, and worse than his worst. So, what did Vision remember?

Could they still consider themselves friends? How much of JARVIS was Vision, and how much of Vision was JARVIS?

These were all questions he was never going to ask. Vision was his own person now, and Tony, despite what the press would have anyone believe, knew how to respect personal boundaries. Vision wasn't his tech anymore. He couldn't just look into his mind, his code, and figure out his thoughts.

God, but he wanted to.

"Tony," Steve began. "Tony, do you want to talk about it?"

Tony looked up at him and smiled, fake. "Talk about what? There's nothing to talk about."

Steve came to sit next to him. "Tony, I understand how it feels to lose someone, and then have them come back a little different. Not the same. I get it."

"It fucking sucks," Tony said, and rested his face in his hands.

"You get used to it," Steve told him. "I know that makes it worse right now, but it starts to hurt a little less, at least."

"You think he's still there somewhere?" Tony asked. "I don't even know what I did. Sure shows me for experimenting with alien tech, right? Damn that Tony Stark, always sticking his fingers in, oh, I don't know, poisonous pies."

Steve sighed. "I got a little mad at you back there, it's true. But I know it's just in your nature, Tony. You're curious." He smiled a little. "Hey, and look, your curiosity created new life!"

"Aren't you against that kind of thing?" Tony asked, laughing humourlessly. "Not my place, huh?"

"No, no, I'm not against it." Steve shrugged. "Not on principle, anyway. There are times when it goes wrong, and times when it goes right. You got both."

"I think I got the worst of both worlds, in this case, Capsicle."

"Vision is..." Steve searched for the words. "He's not JARVIS, but he is, at the same time. He's not naive, but he's new. He's so new, Tony. He's experiencing everything for the first time. I only got a small taste of that, after the ice, but I'm pretty sure I know how it feels. It's terrifying and exhilerating and wonderful. So, y'know, right now, I think he could use a friend."

"He's a god compared to us," Tony pointed out. He sounded like some kind of dejected, whiny kid, the kind Dad used to disapprove of, but he couldn't bring himself to put on another false mask right now. "Compared to me, especially. I'm just a big man in a suit of armour, you said it yourself."

Steve looked hurt. "The scepter made me say that. I don't believe a word of that hogwash now." Then, he shook his head. "Anyway, that's no excuse. We're Thor's friends, right?"

"But Thor's Thor," Tony protested, as if that made any sense.

"And Vision knows you, Tony."

They sat in silence a while.

"Did you just pep talk me?" Tony asked. "Did I just get a pep talk from Captain America?"

"Yeah, I think you did." Steve grinned.

"Can you eat?" Tony asked, and then wanted to slap himself. Was that really the first thing he had chosen to open with? He'd been so casual with JARVIS. But Vision wasn't JARVIS. Sort of. Maybe. That's what he was here to piece together, anyway.

Vision blinked, tilted his head and thought about it a moment. "Well, I imagine so. I've never really tried."

"Well, that is just a shame." Tony slung an arm around his shoulder. "Come, come, I'll introduce you to the wonders of the Avengers' kitchen."

It was a start, right?