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Steve isn’t really that much taller than Tony, but when he does that thing with the thick arms crossed over a massive chest with that handsome, all- American face twisted into a disapproving frown, Tony kind of feels like he’s only four feet tall. If that.
And the thing is, really, this is totally unfair that he’s getting all the flak for this. Barnes is just as much—if not more!—to blame. After all, he’s the one who makes cracks about the old man, who insults Dummy, and Tony knows he’s the one who’s broken the microwave the last three times. There were bullets in the wreckage, and only one person would have done that.
He knows it's not Natasha because she just stares at it, and the thing wilts to her whims.
So it’s really unfair that after they have a screaming match in the middle of a coffee shop down the street that Tony is the one who is being made to apologize. But Steve is in full on Captain America mode, and there just really isn’t any arguing with that. Well, there is, but the punishments that are sure to be dealt out during the next training session aren’t worth it. Armor or not, Steve packs a mean punch.
“He’s still working on getting used to this time,” Steve says sternly. “I know how difficult it is, and having someone constantly provoking him isn’t going to help matters.”
“If he’d just lay off the—“
“Yes, I’ve talked to him about that,” Steve says, his expression softening marginally. They’re hanging around each other too much if Steve’s reaching Pepper levels of knowing what he’s thinking before he says it. “And he’s trying to curb it. But I really think it would do wonders if you would be the one to step up and apologize.”
“But I don’t want to be the bigger man,” Tony complains.
The corner of Steve’s mouth twitches like he wants to give Tony a fond smile, but he doesn’t. “It’s disrupting the whole team,” he says instead. “So, can you please just do me this favor? Just apologize for threatening to hack his arm, slip him five, and make up. Please.”
And Steve walks off, leaving Tony wondering how anyone can be bought over so easily. Sure, inflation and all that, but Jesus Christ. Then again, Steve still looks like he’s going to faint when they go grocery shopping and he sees the final total. Even his extremely impressive collection of coupons doesn’t make him ok with it.
Another side effect of them hanging around each other so much is that, along with Steve developing Tony specific telepathy, Tony has figured out the stages of Steve’s actions in getting his way about something. First, he asks politely. Second, he reminds you that your behavior is in some way disappointing. Third, he gets kind of disgruntled. Next, he goes Captain America. But it’s the final stage that gets him what he wants without any further resistance. Steve Rogers has the most effective puppy dog pout in the entire history of the universe.
And it’s just embarrassing that he always falls for it, so Tony drags his feet as he goes off looking for Barnes with JARVIS's directions. The AI is going to get disassembled for his lack of pity. And Tony really means it this time.
He finds Barnes in the kitchen, glaring at the microwave. Oh God, not again. Seriously. Tony’s rich, but that doesn’t mean he likes to replace all the appliances and floors and windows all the time.
“There’s actually a popcorn button,” Tony says, trying his best to not sound like a condescending jackass. “Less likely to run into problems that way.”
Barnes turns around, arms crossed over his chest, the metal one gleaming in the fluorescent light. For a second Tony considers that maybe his constant antagonism against Barnes isn’t the most well advised plan of action. This man is almost as big as Steve, not to mention he was Steve’s second in command during the war. He kept up with Captain America without any super soldier serum.
And now he has a super, fancy spy-tech arm.
Tony holds up his arms as nonthreateningly as possible. “No offense or anything,” he says, because Barnes is glaring. “I mean, do what you gotta do, man. Just, please don’t shoot it.”
Barnes sort of cracks a smile at that. “I punched it last time,” he says without a hint of remorse. Seriously, Tony’s going to make everyone a swear jar or something and those funds are going toward replacing broken items around the tower. And until the price is met, everyone will just have to make due.
Except for him, of course. He’ll have everything fully stocked down in the workshop.
“Yeah, try to avoid that too,” Tony says.
“You need something, or are you just in here to mock the lesser mortals over technology knowledge gaps,” Barnes asks.
“Um, actually, I’m here to say that maybe, possibly, my comment about nano-viruses could have been unnecessary,” Tony says, and Barnes arches a brow. “And the vague suggestion—“
“It wasn’t all that vague.”
“Don’t interrupt. Rude,” Tony says, wondering if anyone has shown Barnes—or Steve for that matter—the Bon Qui Qui sketch. It’s gold. “Anyway, the suggestion that I might use said nano-viruses to turn you into my own personal Terminator—“ Barnes is glaring again, and Tony’s not sure if it’s the reminder of the fight or the pop culture reference he doesn’t get, so he just cuts to the chase.
Digging in his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet, shuffles around for a while, pulls out a five dollar bill—it’s really a miracle he had one—slips it across the counter towards Barnes and asks, “Forget about it?” It’s a Tony Stark apology through and through—aka, not a real one at all—but Steve will see that he tried, right?
Barnes blinks at the bill on the counter. “What’s that for?”
“I don’t know,” Tony says. “I guess some weird thing you old folks used to do back before they had cars or whatever.”
Barnes is at least used to the jokes that the 40s had absolutely no technology, so he doesn’t get bent out of shape about it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Barnes insists.
“Steve said something about it,” Tony shrugs. “Told me to go make nice and slip you a five. I guess five bucks was a big deal back in your day, so that means that someone really wants whatever dropped or something. I don’t know what you people got up to back then.”
Barnes picks up the money, staring at it like he used to do with the cell phones, and repeats, “He told you to slip me five—oh!”
And Tony jumps back because he really wasn’t expecting Barnes to throw his head back and start laughing. “The hell,” he exclaims, but Barnes is slapping his—thankfully—real hand on the counter, the robo one clutching his side.
“He told you to—and you thought—oh that’s just—hey, Steve,” he calls, and Tony has to run to catch up with Barnes, who, at JARVIS’s instruction, goes into the TV room to find Steve flipping through channels along with Clint and Thor.
“Bucky,” Steve questions, looking concerned.
“Oh, you gotta hear this one, buddy,” Barnes says, kind of wheezing a bit. Steve glances around him to Tony, concern growing, but gives his attention back to Barnes when he says, “So you manhandled Stark into coming to make nice after the coffee shop thing this morning, right?” Steve nods. “You told him to slip me five and make up?” Steve nods again.
Grinning like a mad man, Barnes holds up the five dollars.
Steve stares at the money for a moment, completely flabbergasted. Then, just as suddenly as Barnes had, he begins to laugh, which makes Barnes lose it again too. The two of them are absolutely howling, enough so that Steve completely rolls off the couch. Barnes is supporting himself on his knees, trying and failing to breathe properly.
“Tis a mighty strange sight,” Thor comments after a long moment.
“I have never seen Cap laugh like that,” Clint says, and he sounds a little scared. That’s okay though. Because Tony’s totally freaking out too.
The two men out of time are still rolling around a few moments later when Bruce and Natasha walk in. Bruce immediately shows the proper levels of fear and concern at the sight before them. Natasha just arches a brow at Tony in a questioning manner. He explains and then adds, “I think they’re finally broken.”
Natasha expression doesn’t change—duh—as she responds, “Slip him five means to shake his hand. It’s slang from the thirties, which you might have known if you had bothered to read those language barrier reports after Cap was unfrozen.”
Clint starts to snigger behind Tony, and Bruce is doing a poor job of covering a grin with his hand. “SHIELD is stupid,” Tony declares loudly. “Language barrier reports, the man still speaks English.”
On the floor, Barnes slaps at Steve’s shoulder. “Hey, hey,” he gasps. “What do you think he’d do if we asked for some rot gut?”
Steve snorts and cries, “We’d get a whole bathtub full of it. And I might actually get drunk!” And they’re lost again.
“Drunk right now,” Tony mutters, turning to stomp off to his workshop. He stops and swoops to pick up the money. “And I’ll be taking this back,” he hollers dramatically.