Work Text:
It has finally happened. After years of a revolving door of superheroes cycling through the Mansion, the structure now stands vacant.
Defenseless.
Vulnerable.
Tony must take advantage of the situation before the others can interfere.
Truth told, he had never thought this day would come. He had long shelved his copy of the Mansion blueprints with the necessary modifications made in Sharpie under the auspices of an architect, but now he stands in the bonus room adjacent to the existing pantry, double-checking his measurements.
The short of it is this: the kitchen of the Avenger Mansion is in desperate need of a remodel. It should come as no surprise. The amount of people who lived there in recent years had skyrocketed, not to mention the increased metabolic needs of current residents. As a result, Tony had wanted to knock down a wall to expand the pantry and install multiple extra-capacity fridges, perhaps even a couple standalone freezers. Maybe then, he could go three days between food deliveries. Tony didn’t want to inconvenience any of his fellow Avengers, but he could never find a good time to do what is necessary. Really, the holidays were the only opportunity to get such extensive remodels done, and so when Jan and Hank – the very last to leave – waved goodbye as they left on a European tour, Tony had quickly gotten to work making a few calls to his regular contractor, promising his team quadruple pay if they could expedite the work and finish before Christmas. He only had a week until Christmas was over when the first of his teammates will return.
So, first things first: Demolition.
It’s a little before six in the morning when he spray paints a giant X on the existing pantry wall, marking it for sledgehammers.
“Okay boys, go nuts,” Tony tells them, having already relayed his plans.
They’re only ten minutes in when Steve Rogers, wild-eyed and sleep-rumpled, comes charging down the stairs, the shield strapped to his arm and still wearing the pajamas Iron Man had gotten him for the Avengers’ Secret Santa the week prior.
When he sees Tony in the foyer, he covers him, placing himself between the Avengers’ benefactor and the source of presumed danger. “Mr. Stark, we’re under attack!” Steve shouts, eyes trained in the direction of the kitchen. “Get to the panic room, and I’ll–”
Tony nearly flings himself on his back to stop him from dashing into the thick of it; he does not want to deal with Workman’s Comp claims, not so close to the holidays. “We’re not being attacked. I’m having the kitchen remodeled,” he quickly explains.
“Oh…” Steve’s body goes slack and Tony steps back, straightening out his clothing.
“Why are you here anyway? Iron Man told me that you were spending Christmas with Ms. Rosenthal and her family.” Steve had been talking about it for weeks, even asking Iron Man’s opinion on how to make a good first impression on modern-day parents. “Everyone is gone already, so I wanted to take the opportunity to get the kitchen done.”
Steve looks down at his hands gripping the edge of his shield. “Bernie and I… um, well… we– we broke up,” he murmurs, his fingers gently tapping across the surface. “Don’t worry about me, Mr. Stark. I– I can deal with the mess and the noise.”
“The kitchen is unusable,” Tony states. And with the way Steve eats, he’s going to need a working kitchen.
“I can get hotdogs from the guy on the corner or something. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s Christmas.”
“Yeah…”
And he has nowhere else to go, Tony realizes. Steve is a couple years out of the ice and still struggling to establish a social network outside the Avengers.
Tony can relate.
“So… the kitchen is going to be off-limits for the time being,” he begins, “If you’d like to accompany me to dinner later…”
“Thank you, Mr. Stark, but I don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s no bother. Iron Man has the week off, and it will just be me. Alone. Unprotected. Never know what can happen in this city – the Mandarin can kidnap me or Doctor Doom can attack the very restaurant I’m patronizing – but a man’s got to eat.”
It proves to be an irresistible ploy.
“…Okay, where are we going?” Steve finally relents.
“I was thinking burgers.”
“… and then Arnie – he was my best friend growing up – his partner had tapped out after a couple days, you know, but he wanted to keep going because they’d feed you twelve times a day if you kept up, so being as slim as I was back then, I just changed into a dress and my mother’s wig and cut in. He’d hold me up when I’d drift off after a day or so, just drag my sleeping body across the dance floor like a rag doll.”
Tony laughs as if he is hearing the story for the first time.
It’s a careful balance, pretending to be two different people – Tony Stark and Iron Man – one that Tony had perfected by keeping his distance from people who knew Iron Man best, which unfortunately included present company. As a result, he knew more about Steve than “Tony Stark” should, and it is difficult to keep up the ruse for long stretches of time.
“Excuse me,” the waitress interrupts, her order pad already out. “I was wondering if I could get some drinks started if you’re still looking over that menu?”
Tony snaps up the laminated menu. “Yeah, I’ll have a club soda with a twist if you have it, and my friend here will take a Coke with lemon… unless you’d like a milkshake instead?”
“Coke with lemon is good,” Steve replies. After the woman leaves to process their order, he asks, “How’d you know about my regular order?”
Damn it.
“I’ve seen you drink it from time to time at the Mansion,” Tony replies, feigning nonchalance. Paying attention to one’s housemates is normal, right? It’s not completely inconceivable that he’d be at least somewhat aware of Steve’s preferences.
Steve seems to accept his explanation, continuing his story about participating in dance marathons during the Great Depression.
Tony contemplates his hand. It’s not particularly good, but based on the twitch in the other man’s brow and the way he’s chewing his lip, Steve has nothing.
“I’ll call.” Tony tosses a chip representing twenty-five push-ups into the pile, then he lays his cards on the table. “Pair of fives.”
“Damn it,” Steve mumbles, folding his cards without revealing his even poorer hand.
“Want to play Monopoly instead?” Tony offers, retrieving the cards and shuffling the deck. “I swear you have the world’s worst poker face. I could probably beat you at Old Maid by looking at you while touching each of the cards in your hand.”
“That’s what Iron Man always says.”
By now, Tony is comfortable with the comparison, no longer freezing up when Steve brings up his similarity to his alter ego.
“Granted, Iron Man is pretty observant, but a man doesn’t have to be to beat you at poker.”
The days pass quickly, and soon enough, it’s Christmas.
The two have retired to the couch in the den to watch It’s A Wonderful Life and suck on some leftover candy canes. The movie had come out the year after Steve was frozen, making him literally the only person in the good old U.S. of A. to never have heard of it. It has a nice, if overly sentimental, message about the value of living a life filled with good friends, even after a man thinks he’s lost everything else.
“Thanks for spending your Christmas with me, Tony.”
Tony twists a finger around the crook of his unwrapped candy cane. “No one should have to spend the holiday alone. I’m happy to do it.”
“It’s too bad Iron Man couldn’t be here, though. Love that guy.”
“…Yeah. Too bad.”
Steve must realize how that sounds or perhaps he misinterprets Tony’s tone, because he quickly adds, “Not that I’m ungrateful for the company, and it was real swell of you to give Iron Man the week off. Guy deserves it. He works hard, and his family probably misses him.”
“I’m sure he’s having a great Christmas spending time with loved ones, wherever he is,” Tony replies enigmatically. He likes spending one-on-one time with Steve outside the suit. It has been a nice change of pace.
“Sure hope so,” Steve agrees. “You should spend more time hanging out with the rest of us, Tony. I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”
“Iron Man doesn’t want his boss hanging around, cramping his style.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. You two are a lot alike.”
Would Steve say the same if Tony Stark’s presence meant less Iron Man?
“I’ll uh… I’ll keep that in mind.” Tony leans back into the couch cushions. “We should watch Miracle on 34th Street next. Got to get you caught up on all the classics.”
“Do people not watch A Christmas Carol anymore?”
Tony gives him an odd look, though there’s a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “You trying to give me nightmares, Rogers?”
Steve flubs over yet another explanation, but Tony only laughs. “I’m only joking." He picks up the remote. "Now, let’s put on the next movie.”