fossilised | Birthday fun

Birthday fun

It all started with a cake. Not enough stories these days did anymore, especially not in the lives of the Avengers. This wasn't just any cake either. It wasn't store-bought, picked up from the grocery with a hope that the teenager doing the lettering spelled a name correctly. It wasn't from a fancy bakery, though the person who had taken it upon himself to do the baking could have afforded something outlandish. No, this cake came from various boxes and cartons, the contents of which were painstakingly mixed together in more or less the way the recipe card was read off.

There may have been some corners cut, the eggs might not have been carefully folded (mostly because how do you fold eggs when they're goopy), the buttercream might be too runny, but the result was still fairly remarkable.

Even more remarkable was how intact it arrived, in a box in the back of an Audi, to all the usual fanfare Tony himself enjoyed when speeding through the security gates that those working at the Compound feverishly rushes to open for him. One scratch on that car would mean less of a Christmas bonus for everyone.

The cake was transported carefully from the back of the car towards one of the living quarters, a building shared by most of the non-retired Avengers. It did not need to be announced, so the man carrying it didn't bother to knock. Not at the front door and not at the recipient's bedroom. There was no need. No one would be awake anyway.

The time on his watch read 11:58 and so the cake was forced to wait a full two minutes until the day rolled over to be dramatically presented.

Tony Stark burst through the door and JARVIS started the Star-Spangled Banner on his cue, red and blue lights flashing. It was all beautifully patriotic, much like the cake itself, decorated to resemble Captain America's shield. "Happy Birthday, Grandpa!"

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Steve has never thought of himself as particularly progressive, he just doesn't like bullies. No matter if they're one guy, a gang of them, or a whole government. Nobody deserved to live their lives in fear, just because of who or what they were, all because some jerks decided that it wasn't right.

He glanced at the club as he got out, ducking his head almost automatically to hide a little of his height and not look anyone in the eyes. It was a defence mechanism designed to stop people recognising him, though Tony seemed to have the opposite desire and want to be seen.

"You come here a lot?" He must do, to have a usual table. "Do you bring Pepper here?"

Pepper. Steve kept bringing her up and while Tony didn’t exactly mind, he also wasn’t too thrilled having to brush it off. “She’s not a jazz fan,” he said, which was a non-commital here nor there.

He could feel himself unwind, however, the moment the background noise rose the moment he stepped through the door and headed towards a higher tier table, two steps above the rest. Corner pocket, right side of the stage. He liked to watch the pianist and that vantage point gave him s good view.

“I used to come here a lot. To relax,” he had to shout at Steve as they sat and a waitress came over. She had Tony’s drink already and crouched next to Steve to get his. They were discrete there, it was why Tony liked it. Sometimes you just didn’t want to get mobbed.

Steve had no idea that Tony might resent the fact that he kept bringing up Pepper when they spoke, he did it because he had liked Ms. Potts the few times they had spoken and because he had always been taught that it was polite to ask about someone else's loved ones.

The waitress gave Steve a look that he was used to getting, considering and admiring, someone who recognised him. But she didn't call it out, she didn't even acknowledge it to him, she just said "Thank you, Captain Rogers." when he gave his drink order, and left to complete it.

He watched her go, small smile tugging at his lips. "I can see why."

It might be after midnight but they were only between sets here. Another would start in a few minutes, the musicians were all just laughing and drinking at the bar. Tony’s eyes didn’t leave Steve’s face, didn’t follow the woman back to the bar, and didn’t scan the thin, rectangular menu on the table between them, tucked into a space between the drink specials and a single candle.

Steve interested him in this light. He found himself deconstructing each movement of his face, each eyelid twitch or the way his mouth moved. The man wasn’t a machine, though the case might be made that every person was mechanical in some way.

“Hungry? You didn’t eat as much cake as I thought,” he said by means of covering up for the fact that Steve had obviously noticed he was staring. “They don’t have great pizza but their wings aren’t bad.”

It was impossible not to notice the staring, but Steve was used to it by now. He had no idea the real focus behind it, he just assumed that Tony was like that with everyone, slightly too intense and a bit too focused. It was how he pursued his work too, focus to the detriment of everything else.

He certainly didn't believe that Tony liked him more than was appropriate. Hell, he believed that Tony only just maintained courtesy because of the amount of times they'd worked together now, he had made it pretty clear to start with just how little he thought of Steve.

"Sure, I could eat, but I didn't get any cash out. Is there an ATM around here?"

He still wasn't too comfortable paying on card.

Tony might disagree about liking someone more than was appropriate, because who made the cap on liking people and where exactly was it set anyway? He didn’t have to defend himself, luckily, because then things might have gotten uncomfortable for Steve. Tony wasn’t exactly known for being meek.

That wasn’t the focus of the conversation anyway. “Birthday boys don’t pay,,” Tony said with certainty. Unless that birthday boy was Tony Stark, because then he paid for everything. Money wasn’t something he worried about. There was more in his account than he could spend and he tended to spend it on things you couldn’t buy off of Amazon. It would take Stark Industries tanking and all of his real estate crumbling to really feel an impact.

Besides, that’s what people said in movies and on commercials. Friends pay for friends on their birthdays. Simple as that.

“And I already have a tab running.” They just charged him end of the night.

"I'll remember that when it comes around to your birthday, Tony."

He would, too. Steve was the sort of person who meant what he said, and he'd insist on paying for Tony on his birthday too. It didn't matter that the other man was a multi-billionaire, it was just the principle of the matter. Not that he imagined he'd be able to spend Tony's birthday with him, he had too many people that would want that honour and people who had more of a claim to him than Steve did.

He thanked the waitress kindly when she brought him back his drink, as well as an order of the wings, and tipped her generously, before turning his attention back to Tony.

"I wouldn't imagine many people being here this late, but it's packed."

If Steve could figure out his birthday, and not just Google various dates of past parties, he would absolutely let the blond take him out. He’d like to see what Steve thought would be fun for him. Their personalities were so different that it might end up being fairly amusing.

Maybe they’d end up at Chuck E Cheez and Steve would try playing arcade games to win him prizes.

Okay. That was absolutely a thought from a guy who didn’t have a childhood and wanted an older brother or a father figure. It was not the vibe he was going for. Thankfully, Steve changed the subject.

“Wednesday nights are old school. It’s the best time to come out.” Not that most of these people enjoyed a regular 9 to 5. Industry workers rarely did.

Steve didn't need to google anything to find out when Tony's birthday was, he only needed to ask either Pepper or JARVIS, either of which would know for certain. Especially JARVIS, as he'd have to have all of Tony's information on file to do all the work that he did for him.

He relaxed into his chair and started on the wings, somehow managing to eat them without getting sauce all over his face or ruining his clothes.

"You know, when I was little I used to want to play sax after I heard someone play, but I never had enough puff."

That was a kind way of saying that his lungs never would have let him play an instrument that required excellent breath control. Not to mention that instruments and lessons were expensive, his Ma never could have afforded them for him.

Tony couldn’t picture Steve up on stage with a saxophone at all. The idea of smooth jazz pouring through the brass instrument, keyed by those hands, was almost laughable. Obviously, the blond had an artistic spirit but that didn’t really equate into music.

As the band was preparing their final set, checking instruments and placement, Tony leaned over the table.

“You could always start now. You work too hard.” And that was laughable, coming from a man who never stopped working. The difference was that Tony’s tinkering was more or less hobby as well as how he made his living. That made things easier on him.

Steve raised an eyebrow at Tony for that hypocritical remark, of all of them, Tony was the only one that he knew who had to be physically cut off from his work in order to make him sleep or relax. All of the rest of them were workaholics in some way or another, but not like Tony.

"No, I think that time has long gone now. I'm okay without being able to play an instrument, I'm happy enough listening to other people do it."

Besides which, when would he even get the time to practise? Or find a teacher who would be cool with instructing him? Sometimes being a living legend wasn't all it was made out to be.

Something told Tony that Steve might be able to teach himself. YouTube and that eidetic memory of his would work wonders on learning music. He could probably teach himself to read it overnight. That, of course, didn’t matter much if he wouldn’t pick up an instrument.

About to say something else, the lights flickered briefly and the sound rushed forward from the stage. Tony’s attention was immediately diverted and he turned in his chair, picking up the glass to feel the vibration from the glass to his fingers.

It had been so long, he’d actually forgotten how much he had enjoyed this.

The sound hummed in his chest, pushing against the reactor, and the distinct taste of coconut touched his tongue. His lips pulled back and he smiled, leaning back in the chair.

It was unusual that anything could make Tony Stark stop talking, and for a moment Steve was astonished. But then the music washed over him like a wave and he understood, taking during this would be sacrilege just the same as talking during a hymn. Perhaps it wasn’t holy in the way that a hymn was holy, but it spoke to the soul in just the same way. People didn’t come to a club like this to talk or drink, they came to listen to the music.

Steve fell silent as well and fixed his eyes on the stage, eyes laser focused and body language leaning forward like a flower towards the sun, soaking up every last scrap of whatever the music could give him. The little worry lines beside his eyes disappeared and his muscles unwound. He didn’t know if hours or days had passed when the set finished, but he felt wrung out and sagged like a puppet with strings all cut.

“Wow... just, wow.”

Tony hadn’t been expecting much from Steve. He had perhaps believed that Steve would be polite, have his drink and his wings and then bob his head along for a few moments before actively work on not looking bored. It was Pepper’s MO, and so Tony didn’t expect to find a kindred spirit in the blond at all. Most people didn’t appreciate jazz as an experience outside of the music itself.

A glance over during the interlude told him a vastly different story. Commonality between them came mostly in the form of wanting to do the right thing by the most people.

But this?

This was remarkable. Steve’s face had been an object of study before but Tony peeled back the layers now, imagined the cogs and gears that could be working seamlessly under the skin of his face, and tried to figure out how they tied back to the circuitry of his brain.

Tony let the music filter through him as he regarded his guest, a distant, but genuine smile on his face. He wasn’t just staring. He was admiring.

Tony would be lucky for a while, Steve was so absorbed in the music that he never even noticed the way that he was being studied. He sat with his face in profile to Tony, expression guileless and smile at his lips. His face was the only thing that had never changed with the serum, except perhaps to lose the hollowness in his cheeks, and he had been just as honest back then.

He sat in silence until the musicians sat down for another break, only then turning back towards his friend and suddenly noticing the rather intense way that Tony was letting his gaze linger on Steve's face.

"Uh-- do I have wing sauce on my face?"

“You’re just freaking me out,” Tony said with uncharacteristic honesty. “So that’s a first.” The inventor turned his face away, watching the sax player remove the mouthpiece from his instrument as of that could save him a conversation.

He could and would ignore Steve for a little while, no matter what the other man asked him, and spent the time drinking the remains of his glass before standing. He assumed the blond would follow suit, he was his ride after all. Tony just didn’t like the fact that he enjoyed sharing this with the Captain. Being somewhat obsessed (a genetic trait passed on from his father, he was sure) was all right, but being downright lost in Steve for any length of time was just unacceptable.

They had to go. Now.

Steve didn't get it.

The evening had started out so well, with an easy camaraderie and friendly feeling. But somehow, during the music, something had changed. Tony seemed irritated or disappointed, if the way that he ignored Steve and tried to leave so suddenly, but Steve couldn't figure out why. He had enjoyed the music, hadn't disparaged it, and wasn't that what Tony wanted?

Sometimes Tony was confusing enough to make him want to tear his hair out.

He did follow, but only as far as the front entrance, where he caught up with Tony as the man waited for a valet to bring his car around, frown marring his brow.

"What's going on, Tony?"

Wrong? Why was the blond so perceptive sometimes? Most people wrote Tony off for what he was...a guy with manic mood swings who had probably gotten some sort of idea and now just wanted to go and work on it. Or that he was just plain rude. But not Steve. Steve could read something in him and Tony hated that.

“It’s better to leave before the lights come up and everyone sees us. You’re the guy that runs away from selfies and autographs.” That wasn’t all true. Steve was gracious to the people that looked up to him but he still didn’t like to be the center of attention save in official capacities. “Did you want to go somewhere else, or just back to the Compound?”

He wasn’t going to give Steve the creeps tonight. His obsession was his along. The guy was from the distant past, from when all things were clouded in fog and repression. And Tony would keep this to himself.

Steve wasn't sure he was buying that, Tony just seemed... off. Like all the relaxed pleasure of earlier had been twisted and turned into tension. It made him a little sad, but apparently they couldn't actually spend time together without it being a mission, not without Tony remembering that he hated Steve for something that he had no control over.

So he sighed, the happiness fading a bit from his expression too, and didn't press the matter. He wouldn't make Tony stay in his company when he obviously didn't want to be, so that made the choice easy.

"Back to the Compound, pretty sure that's enough birthday action for anyone."

Steve had to have been fantastic at the guilt trip as a child. He probably looked as wholesome as he did now without a hint of deviousness that stopped Tony from getting much sympathy himself. He had no idea how involved Steve was with this action on his part, if it was instinct or if he turned it up on purpose, but he imagined that he used to get away with a lot.

It was frustrating to keep thinking of the blond this way. Pepper was annoyed with him already because of his growing infatuation, as she called it. Why was Rogers so important to him? Why did he go out of his way to spend time with him? Tony had answers for all of that: Pepper was just seeing things that weren’t there. Obviously. Now he wasn’t so sure.

But he was sure that taking Steve home to an empty place was bad news.

“Your birthday started three hours ago. How can you be birthday’d out already?” Tony asked as the car was brought around and parked more neatly than he himself had done. “Just because everything is closed doesn’t mean it’s bed time. Pizza?”

Steve honestly wasn't trying to guilt anyone, which was possibly why he was so effective at guilting other people, they could see he was sincere and that did more to prick at any conscience than deliberate manipulation. He shook his head and gave Tony a grateful little smile.

"No, really, it's fine. It's late, we should head back."

He was thankful that he had been given this much of a birthday treat, it was unexpected and kind, but he didn't want to force Tony to stay around him when it was obvious that Steve had done something to upset him, perhaps merely by existing in the same space as him.

"You've done more than enough, thank you."

God damn it. Why did ‘thank you’ have to ring so deeply in his gut? That seemed intentionally unfair and Tony, catching his keys, glanced over at the taller man beside him and just climbed into his car. He would have a captive audience with a console between them and that would be much easier to deal with than a kitchen table with a buttercream nose or a club table with a communal shared love of jazz to hang over Tony’s Head.

He did not head back north, out of the city. He went east instead, over the Brooklyn Bridge and off of the island of Manhattan towards Steve’s old stomping grounds and the purveyors of the best pizza in the city.

“I don’t sleep. And I’m hungry.” He should have had several more drinks at the club and let JARVIS autopilot them back. “You can hold the 2-liter. It’s going to be Coke. We are not a Pepsi household.”

It could have been annoying, being kidnapped when he'd deliberately said that he wanted to go back to the Compound, but to Steve's eyes this was Tony really trying to overcome his dislike of Steve to do what he thought he should do to celebrate someone's birthday. It was really touching, and it proved that Tony did have the capacity for selfless behaviour.

"Tony--"

He waited until they were parked up before he demanded Tony's attention, eyes serious and focused.

"Look, I know you don't like me. We've had that out a few times, and it's obvious that you'd rather be with anyone else right now than me. And that's-- that's fine, it means a lot that you'd try and do something for me all the same and I won't forget it. But you don't have to force yourself for me, okay?"

Now that was startling. Not only that Steve would call him out on it, but that he was so wrong. Tony opened and closed his mouth, genuinely speechless, before he burst out laughing. “I don’t like you? Yep. That’s exactly why I baked you a cake and got together your documents and drove over here so I could wake you up at midnight—. I wouldn’t want to know what someone like me would do if I hated you.”

Laughing was good, it was easy, and Tony reached out in an uncharacteristic gesture to put his hand on Steve’s shoulder before he opened the car door and stepped out onto the street.

The little pizza shop was bustling and filled with industry workers just getting off of their shift, and drunks trying to fill their bellies after last call. No one seemed to notice him for the moment, but that would change. Especially when he opened the car door for Steve and waited for him to get our. Like a gentleman.

“You’re an idiot. I’ll say that much. Come on. I’ll buy you a slice.”

Steve was utterly confused, but he believed that Tony was telling him the truth. That didn't marry with any of the other conversations they'd had, though, where Tony had made it clear that he hated the very idea of Steve Rogers. In fact, it seemed like the nicer Steve tried to be to him, the worse it got.

He followed him into the store, pulling a baseball cap low over his face as if that would hide him when his muscles were enough to make anyone stare, and lowered his voice to keep this private.

"Tony-- you've told me before how you don't like me. Remember? Everything special came out of a tube, your Dad liked me and so you don't, or did I dream all of that?""

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