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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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?""

“That was literally a year ago, Rogers,” Tony said, all flash and impossible selfishness. He knew Steve was trying to keep a low profile, but he literally didn’t care right now. The guy was asking him personal questions about his feelings and this was retaliation. “You got on my nerves. You still do. But if I hated you, there’s no reason I’d be here. How many birthday cakes do you think I have baked in my life?”

Tony stepped up to the counter and held up two fingers, mouthing ‘extra cheese pies’ and then turned back around to the blond. Who was hunching. Ridiculous. People had already noticed them and were pointing and whispering and trying to decide if that was THE Tony Stark. And could that be THE Captain America? Oh gosh!

“One. Exactly one. For you. And not because I was trying to poison you or anything. I wouldn’t do that. Poison you. I’m partial to blasters,” he muttered before his stream of consciousness came back around. “Wait. Have you thought that I’ve hated you for this entire time? Ouch. I thought we were friends.”

"Well... yeah, you never told me otherwise and you were pretty emphatic when it came to telling me how much you hate me."

Steve just looked baffled, and a little hurt that Tony hadn't been open earlier. Why did some people have so much trouble just talking about the truth? He wasn't good at guessing games, mostly because he never played them. If he said he liked someone, then he liked them, and visa versa.

Some of the watching patrons were muttering in excitement about seeing actual drama between the Avengers, and at least three phones had come out, but Steve didn't notice, he only had eyes for Tony.

"I wish you could'a felt like you could tell me, because I'm glad."

“Well, I wish that I could print pizza in my living room and that you weren’t so stupid, so I guess we both want things,” Tony said, feeling pretty pleased with himself about all of this. His eyes were bright and he couldn’t help but grin at his own reflection in the glass above the heating window. “Oh, and an order of garlic knots.”

He didn’t think about what was being recorded. Or that Pepper might not completely agree with the way he was treating Steve right now, or how she would easily gather that he’d made him a cake and taken him out on his birthday when he’d forgotten about hers completely.

That was a shame.

“Do I have to start sending you weekly love notes now, Yankee Doodle?”

Steve shook his head, honestly sometimes Tony could be both infuriating and lovely at the same time. It was good to see the pleased expression on his face, know that they might actually be real friends now, but did he have to couch it in such weird terms with people looking on.

"How about I settle for the pie, and you quit being so weird."

He snorted and then jumped as a woman touched him on the arm, looking breathless like she might be about to faint just from being in his presence.

"--I... oh my god, you're really Captain America, aren't you? I love you, no, I mean I love you and--"

Steve flushed, but he diplomatically patted her on the shoulder with a smile. "I'm flattered, ma'am, that's very kind of you."

There were so many great and wonderful things that Tony might do in this situation, but he couldn’t help but be a troll at every possible opportunity. And this one was no different. Fans were always a mixed bag. The vast majority were decent people happy for a moment of time and a smile but sometimes... Well sometimes you got the crazies.

Exhibit A, the drunk off of her rocker girl with smeared mascara and vodka cranberry breath. Tony paid for their pizza and left a generous hundred dollar tip as it was being wrapped in a brown bag before he slipped his wallet into his back pocket and wrapped an arm around Steve’s waste.

“I’m sorry. He’s not interested. Come on, sweetheart. You get the pizza and I’ll get the door.”

Steve flushed right from the back of his neck up to the tips of his ears, and he pulled a little way away from Tony as he went to grab the pizza, muttering something to the drunk woman that she barely heard and wouldn't remember the next day when she woke up anyway.

He followed Tony outside with a look of tightly controlled irritation on his face, and strode around to get in his side of the car. He was just-- pissed. He thought relationships were nothing to joke about, and definitely not something to use to get someone to back off, that cheapened the whole thing. Besides which, now there would be rumours about the two of them; which he didn't mind for the reasons people might have thought he might mind - he had nothing against homosexuality even if it was still something he was getting his head around - but he didn't want to be thrust into that spotlight.

If the media said that Captain America was gay, then he might accidentally become an inspiration to some actual gay kid out there, and he thought that they should be looking up to someone who shared their experiences. For him to be lauded that way, it felt unfair, like a white man being heralded as a racial awareness champion. He didn't understand their suffering so, though he supported rights, he had no business speaking for them, even by accident.

Didn't Tony get that?

Somehow, in record time, Tony had gone from making Steve’s night to kissing him off. He followed him back to the car, phones held up in the window of the shop behind them, and he put a hand over the door. That wouldn’t keep Steve from moving him, but the point was just to get him to stop moving and look up.

“That was fast,” Tony said with a frown, leaning his hip against the car door now. “You look like I shot your new puppy.”

The ride back home would be extremely uncomfortable if this wasn’t resolved now and despite Tony having an awkward moment of feeling towards Steve, he didn’t want to ruin this.

"Yeah, well-- you made those people think we were something that we're not, and now there's going to be a lot of rumours about us as a couple."

He frowned, for a moment looking like the forbidding 40s guy who didn't approve of men liking other men, but then he fixed Tony with a look that was equal parts disapproval and guilt.

"I don't want to speak for people I have no right to, and if people think that I'm with another man that way then they're going to want me to. I used to hate people talking for me when I was a kid, all these doctors and nurses who had no idea what it was actually like to live it. People in these sort of relationships are still struggling to be accepted, I don't want to take away from that."

Tony listened. He didn’t open his mouth and he didn’t interject. He listened with one hand on the door and the other flipping through his phone. He didn’t need to Google anything, he had a few choice images saved. What that said about him was a matter not open for discussion.

He turned the phone around when Steve was done with his impassioned plea and held the glowing screen up for the blond to see an image of himself (not badly drawn either) in his uniform and Tony, in a three piece suit, lip locked. A flick of the thumb changed the image to a much more crudely, distinctly Asian style image of Tony laying on an American flag in the sand as if it was a towel, naked save for Steve’s shield covering him.

There were more, mostly drawings of Steve, that Tony didn’t want to display right now.

“It’s 2013, Rogers. People are weird. You’re an icon for a whole lot of things that you probably don’t even want to know about. This one is just the most amusing.”

Tony pushed off from the door, slipping his phone in his pocket.

“Welcome to the world of fan service. You probably made the night of every woman in there. It’s not that big of a deal.” So said Tony Stark, for whom nothing was that big of a deal.

Steve's jaw tightened when he looked at the pictures being shown to him. He supposed he shouldn't be too surprised, people drawing art of their favourite celebrities was nothing new even in his time, but it usually wasn't like this. This felt somehow like it crossed the line, and he wished that he had never seen it.

"To you, maybe."

Steve's voice was curt and disappointed, and a little annoyed that Tony never got when things were difficult or important for other people. It was the one thing that really let him down, empathy was such an important trait.

"But it is to me, so-- sorry, but I think I'm done with the celebrations for tonight. Goodnight, Tony."

He turned away from the car and began to walk away.

His mother’s voice always hit him at the most inopportune moments of his life. Rejection usually means that those are the people you need to try harder for. She had said it in reference to his father, a means to make Tony try harder. And he hadn’t. The opportunity was gone just as fast as Steve was, walking away from him.

Tony didn’t chase. He could probably turn the car around easily even in the one-way street to catch up with Steve, but he didn’t. He just watched him go, pizza and soda on the roof of the car. That was a no-no but he was up to allowing exceptions at the moment.

After Steve disappeared, while patrons of the pizza shop watched and filmed, Tony flicked through the images he had saved on his phone as he leaned back against the car and grunted.

Damn it. Wrong play. Not just a wrong play but he’d probably just made Steve irrevocably uncomfortable around him. Shit. Tony tossed his phone through the passenger window of the car, climbed back in, and headed beck to the Compound.

He’d be there whenever Steve returned, poking at the birthday cake, eyes looking a little crusty. He had to fix it, not just for the team, but because Steve was stupidly worth trying harder for.

Steve wasn't mad because Tony had showed him those pictures, though they had made him uncomfortable with how graphic and inappropriate they were, he was mad because Tony never thought it was important enough to put himself into someone else's shoes. If something didn't affect him personally, or he didn't see why it should be a big deal, then he never treated it as if it was a big deal no matter how anyone else thought.

Steve thought it was a big deal if people started reporting on his sexuality wrong. And whatever Tony said, there was a difference between actual rumour and some overinvested fans drawing some inappropriate art. He just didn't want to take away from an already pretty oppressed community. Not even mentioning that Tony hadn't considered his own personal comfort when he decided to pretend they were a couple. He hadn't had many partners, only two, and only one that the official histories recorded, and that sort of thing was a big deal for him.

He didn't come back to the Compound for a few hours, he went for a run to cool off first, and when he got back his shirt was sticking to his chest with sweat that turned it slightly transparent. He glanced over at Tony picking at the cake and sighed.

"Eat it or put it in the fridge, you're gonna ruin it like that."

Hours was a long time to be picking at a cake. “It’s already ruined,” Tony said, like some glum child. He stabbed his fork into the buttercream and left it there, like the blob of flour and eggs was a voodoo doll for his soul.

He leaned back in the chair, uncomfortable as it was, and draped an arm over the top rung to watch Steve come towards and then around him. His eyes moved to follow before his head did.

“Didn’t mean to piss you off,” was about as much of an apology as Tony could muster. He wasn’t good at them and he was rarely sorry for what he did. His sorrow typically came in the form of disliking the consequences of his actions. “That wasn’t part of my Big Spangled Birthday Bash.”

Steve pulled his shirt over his head without bothering to undo the buttons, not wanting to be in the sweat soaked material any longer than he had to be, and draped it over the back of the sofa. He frowned over at Tony, not forbiddingly, just with disappointment pretty clear on his face.

"I know, but didn't anyone ever tell you to walk a mile in someone else's shoes. What isn't a big deal for you, can be a big deal for other people."

And he'd have a lot more friends, and keep a lot more friends, if he could remember that.

Why did disappointing Steve matter so much? Tony might well be back to five years old, trying to hide parts of an engine he’d taken apart from his dad’s garage before he could be discovered. Tony tried to roll his eyes, but his eyes wouldn’t roll. They were too locked on the muscular torso just wandering around in front of him.

Tony didn’t have much of a male gaze for other men, not often at least, but the urge was so annoyingly powerful now that he was pretty sure he had been slipped some sort of drug along the way.

Maybe it was in the pizza.

But why was it still sticking with him? Shiiiiit. He could hear it dragged out in his head. Was Pepper onto something with her jealousy? That was enough for Tony to complete disengage. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.

“I’ll work on it,” he said, grabbing his suit jacket from the back of the chair as he stood. Yeah. He wasn’t staying around poison. Been there. Done that.

Apparently he had cut a bit deeper with that reprimand than he intended to do, if Tony's response was to walk away as fast as he could. But he wouldn't apologise or back down, it might be good for Tony to have his world view challenged every once in a while. He was surrounded by too many yes-men, and too many people who saw his money and would do anything to get some for themselves.

At least he had Pepper. She was a good woman, and she'd already helped him grow a lot from the self involved man he had been before into someone that Steve was happy actually wanted to be his friend.

So he didn't stop Tony from leaving, he just went to take a shower and get some actual sleep. A couple of days later, Tony would get a letter in the traditional sense, snail-mail with a stamp and everything. Because Mrs. Sarah Rogers had raised her son right, and if someone did something nice for you then you wrote them a thank you note.

Dear Tony,

Thank you for the consideration on my birthday, as well as the gift of a cake and these old files. I really appreciate it, and hope to do the same for you some day. Come by any time.

Your friend,
Steven G. Rogers

Tony was absolutely certain that the G stood for Goddamned. Pepper had finally started talking to him again, after insisting that they stop tinkering around the Tower and return to Malibu, despite the videos that had surfaced immediately online. Unfortunately, as she was the only person who ever remembered to get the mail, finding a fancy, hand addressed envelop directed to her boyfriend by the guy she was sure her boyfriend had a weird love-hate obsessive crush on, led to another argument.

To be fair, Tony wasn’t paying that much attention to her and got riled up when she had JARVIS turn down his music. He was busy. She was interrupting his work on his newest suit of armor.

When she threw the envelop at him like a shurikan (which the reactor deflected just fine, luckily), Tony mostly blinked at her until she stormed off.

She tended to be better at her arguing but this was a bit much, he decided, wiping off his hands with a rag before he bent to pick up the letter. He almost didn’t want to open it, so it laid on the table next to the couch where he could stare at it for the better part of the evening.

It was nine o’clock when he called Steve, making it another midnight wake up for the blond, if he was even around of course. Surprisingly, Tony wasn’t even drunk.

Steve isn't entirely sure whether he'll get a response, but it's okay if he doesn't. A thank you for a thank you would just be kind of awkward, and then they'd end up dancing around in circles forever. But Tony isn't the sort of person to thank him back, he'd more than likely just tease Steve for not using email like everyone else in the future where snail mail was relegated to official papers and not much else.

Nat and Clint were both back in the Compound, so he had spent the evening with them. Sometimes he was a little surprised at the close friendship he had cultivated, especially with Nat, but both of them seemed to really appreciate that he was genuine when he wanted to get to know them. They had played a vicious few rounds of table tennis (all won by Clint in the end) and then eaten together.

He was just watching a movie when the phone rang, rolling off the couch and picking it up on the third ring, hoping it hadn't woken the other two.

"Hello?"

Tony’s first response? Hang up. It was strong and it was visceral and he really hated the way his stomach twisted up just at hearing Steve’s voice. “Bit formal. Even for a centenarian.” Finer words had and would again be spoken, but not by Tony Stark and not at this moment. He wanted to kick himself. “Did you manage to un-ruin the rest of your birthday? Set off some firecrackers in the yard and run hoops down the street with a stick?”

His attempts to be amusing were not so much and he could feel the strain because of it. Maybe that was why he subconsciously did what Steve predicted he would not do.

“Thanks for the card. It’s going in my unmentionables drawer with a sache of lavender. I was hoping for some wildflowers pressed between the note but I guess you’re just losing your charm.”

Smoooooth.

“Anyway, I have a new idea for a bike engine. I’m coming over tomorrow to install it in your Harley.”

Steve had been expecting the teasing so it didn't come as a surprise, but it still made him groan with half exasperated amusement. Honestly, Tony never took anything seriously, did he?

"Don't mention it; seriously, especially if it's going in an unmentionables drawer." He was kind of proud of that joke, dorky though it was. "Didn't you just install a new engine the other week?"

Not that he minded, but it seemed unnecessary work for Tony.

He was, at least, inclined to not be cold towards him. He had been annoyed on the night, and he was still inclined to be irritated about what had happened, but he had already vented his displeasure and so to keep harping on about it wouldn't be kind, he just had to hope that Tony had thought about it and might change his ways for the future.

“You’re not exactly gentle on your equipment,” Tony covered up, an audible handwave hoping keeping Steve from paying attention to the strain that might also be there. “And I need an excuse to get out of the house that doesn’t involve digging myself deeper in the hole I’m already standing in.”

It was supposed to be funny, to shift the conversation that would allow Tony to neither answer questions about nor say anything more before he hung up. It was supposed to be funny, but it was more relevant instead.

Going to the Compound now would be idiotic. But he couldn’t get Steve out of his head right now. He waited until he heard the other man inhale to respond before he hung up. And that was meant to be that.

Unfortunately, the more recognition super heroes achieved, the more likely it was for super villains to try and shake things up. Not all of SHIELD’s missions relied on assassins. Some needed the brute force of the Captain to take the lead and as Tony didn’t actively monitor SHIELD’s Cap Signal, he arrived to a Compound on lockdown and his favorite-not favorite blond off to Russia to clean up something or other that Tony didn’t give a shit about.

He wasn’t in the weapons business anymore.

What hole?

Honestly, sometimes Tony made less and less sense the more Steve got to know him, rather than more sense like everyone else. He had no idea what Tony was talking about, and definitely no idea that it pertained to him, but he had no chance to question it because he was cut off fairly rudely. He didn't even think twice about going on the mission without informing Tony - why should he? The man was only coming around to put a new engine in his bike and he didn't actually need Steve there for that.

It was a hard mission, Russia wasn't somewhere that he'd been much, and the people that he'd been sent to stop had been well equipped and well trained. He was busy fighting, while Nat poked her head out of the Compound and gave Tony a small smile that, as always, hid her real feelings.

"Morning, Tony, I'm afraid he's out."

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