Work Text:
“I can’t let you do this, Rogers.” Tony stood across from Steve, arms crossed defiantly. “It’s wrong on every single level.”
Steve sighed and shook his head. “For the last time, Tony, this isn’t your decision to make.”
“I know we’ve disagreed about a lot of things. Hell, we’ve disagreed about pretty much everything.” Tony leaned forward into Steve’s personal space. “But this is a step too far.”
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Unbelieveable. Two grown-ass men, arguing over pizza.”
Tony pointed an accusing finger at Sam. “Don’t you take his side, Wilson. Pineapple on pizza is an abomination!”
“Haven’t you two ever heard of going halves? Or just, I don’t know, separate pizzas! ” Clint lifted his head from where he was draped over the sofa. “We’re all getting our own. Thor’s getting five, for Pete’s sake!”
“Yeah, nobody else wanted anchovies and steak. Not even you would eat that, Clint.”
“Hey!”
“Why did you even want pineapple on pizza, anyway?”
Steve half-shrugged. “Bucky and I didn’t get it a lot, growing up.”
“Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe , you should ask him if he wanted it?”
“He did, actually,” Bucky piped up. “I said it was fine.”
Tony held up a finger. “Barnes’s first taste of New York pizza in the 21st century is not going to be sullied by pineapple. Pepperoni and olives is obviously the best combination. You can’t go wrong with salty and spicy.”
“I don’t like olives,” Steve muttered.
Scott threw his hands up in frustration. “I just wanted some of those breadstick things, man.”
“Me too,” Bruce added.
“OK, fine,” Tony sighed angrily and began to tick off his fingers. “Five extra-large Meat Lovers with anchovies for Thor, pepperoni and olives for me, one vegetarian for the Russians -” Wanda shot him the stinkeye. “- I mean the Eastern Europeans, extra cheese for Clint, chicken Margherita for Sam, two orders of breadstick things, and…” Tony shuddered melodramatically. “One ham and pineapple.”
“Got all of that, Friday?” Steve asked with his eyebrows raised.
“Yessir,” the AI answered briskly. “The pizza should arrive in forty-five minutes.”
“There,” Sam snarked. “Was that so hard?”
Tony clearly wanted to say yes, but held his tongue. Steve looked pained, and Bucky didn’t look much better.
“I still think it’s gross,” Tony muttered.
“Then don’t eat any.” Natasha’s voice carried an edge to it. “If you’re so concerned, give Barnes a piece of your own.”
Tony pouted at Natasha, who merely quirked an eyebrow and muttered something in Russian to Wanda. The younger woman let out a snort, before clapping her hands over her mouth.
“So…” Scott’s hopeful voice broke the awkward silence. “Who’s paying?”