Work Text:
Day 21: Cooking/Baking
Steve walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. He paused mid-yawn at the door, his hand ceased movement over his eye and the other eye sported a disbelieving if somewhat still sleepy look. He lowered his hand.
“Please tell me you’re not trying to cook.” He said, giving Tony’s grin a tired look in response as he walked over to the fridge and retrieved the bottle of orange-juice.
“I am not trying to cook, I am cooking.” Tony answered defiantly.
“Sir, may I remind you of some of your previous attempts in the ki-”
“Shut it Jarvis, I got better at it since the omelet incident.” Tony retorted, winking at Steve, who was pouring two glasses of orange juice and looking exasperated.
“If you say so, sir.” Jarvis answered, sounding aloof and unimpressed. “It might serve as an interesting piece of information, Captain Rogers, that last time Mr. Stark tried his hand at cooking, we had to refurnish the kitchen.”
“Snitch.”
“Is that true, Tony?” Steve asked, ignoring the way Tony rolled his eyes as he placed one of the glasses on the counter next to Tony.
“Well… I may have… Accidentally… Burned down the cupboards when I tried some wok-cooking.” Tony admitted, turning the egg over in the pan with a turner. “But I’m sticking to eggs this time, and I’ve had some practice since the uh… omelet incident.” Tony bit his lip and put the cooked egg in a plate and covered it. He wiped his hands on his apron and gave Steve a thoughtful look.
“Do I wanna know what the omelet incident is?” Steve asked, looking mostly amused by now. He noticed the egg survived Tony’s treatment, so he took to believing the statement about practice for now.
“No.” Tony said as he seemed to come to a decision and reached for more eggs. He set about to make another omelet, ignoring how Steve studied his every move. When he held forward the turner, Steve seemed thoughtful. Tony gave him a questioning look, and Steve shrugged.
“It’s just that… I’d thought you’d be the kind to flip the egg rather than turn it over with a turner.” Steve explained, and Tony blinked. Of course he knew how to flip an omelet, he didn’t do it then because he wasn’t feeling too showy that morning. A slow smile spread on his lips as a thought occurred to him.
“Maybe you could show me how it’s done, Cap?” Tony asked in a drawl, and Steve knew Tony was just looking for an excuse to get closer, but he didn’t mind it. He moved over to stand behind Tony, his right hand reached forward to curl around Tony’s own on the handle of the pan.
“Well,” he said next to Tony’s ear, his entire body pressed to Tony’s back, his free hand holding onto Tony’s other arm, “You just need to flick your wrist like so…” Steve demonstrated, sending the omelet in the air and catching it gracefully. Tony was busy pressing into the heat that was Steve and enjoying his rich voice, so he missed it - or was at least acting the part.
“Oh… Could you do that again? I think I missed it.” Tony said, and Steve smiled sweetly as he repeated the motion. Tony tilted his head and pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek before pushing his ass back to rub against Steve’s crotch. Steve made a small sound, then chuckled when Tony wiggled his ass again. “Move Steve, it’s ready. Go sit down.” Tony instructed then, pointing at the chair before removing the cover from the plate and putting the second omelet next to the first. He covered the whole thing again and placed the plate on the table in front of Steve.
~
So Steve sat down, and Tony sat with him, munching on some buttered toast while Steve enjoyed his omelets. They ate in silence, refilling their glasses occasionally and exchanging random smiles, and they continued to sit together for a while longer in pleasant silence, when suddenly Steve spoke.
“So.” he said, and Tony glanced at him like he didn’t know what was going to come out of his mouth next. “What are we celebrating?” he asked. It could not be anything but a celebration of sorts, or at least a mentioning of a special occasion, and while he did have one occasion in mind, he doubted Tony knew about it. Tony didn’t answer for a moment, eyes set on the plate before him, no doubt calculating the most suitable way to connect all the crumbs to make a nice sketch of one machine or another. The next moment, he moved, took the plates and deposited them in the sink.
“Nothing special,” Tony said as an afterthought, sending a brief, genuine smile at Steve, “Just the day you were found on the ice.”