ok you pansies
The light of the RT bounced eerily off the windows and pot racks as Tony tiptoed across the creaky kitchen floors, one hand at his collar to tug it aside for illumination and the other feeling his way forward. The pantry was at the very back, locked, of course, but there wasn't much that could stop Tony Stark. He dropped his backpack to his feet and pulled his t-shirt up into his teeth to free his hands. He didn't bother with the heavy padlock, but the already flimsy looking ring where it secured the door to the wall that would be brittle in just a couple of minutes under the freezing blast of the can of compressed air from Nick's desk. In the other hand, Tony stood ready with a hammer from the grounds keeping shed.
There were donuts in there. Tony knew it for a fact, he saw them stolen away from him that very morning and locked in the pantry like prisoners. He had brought plenty of refreshments, the bag at his feet was heavy with the bottles, but this would be a disastrously short party without a few canapes and a good party was worth braving a few minutes of not-even-that-dark-really. What was that noise? Tony almost dropped the can, wheeling around with the hammer raised and making the mistake of dropping his shirt and enveloping himself in darkness. Okay, that noise was him, but he'd never admit it to anybody.