Who: Tony Stark (Animated), James Rogers, and Steve Rogers What: Dinner Night with Friends and Family When: March 18 Where: Tony and James' Apartment Warnings: None
It had been a weird few weeks with many people turning younger or older. Tony loved little James, of course, but Tony wasn’t a young man anymore and chasing a little kid wasn’t as easy as it used to be. However, James was back at his normal age and Tony wanted to celebrate. He wasn’t sure where Rapunzel was at the moment, but he made plenty of dinner for the three of them plus Steve Rogers. He invited Steve because he genuinely liked him and he knew James enjoyed getting to know him.
“I hope you like meatloaf and potatoes,” he called to Steve from the kitchen.
Being back in his post-serum body had been almost as shocking as waking up in a room he didn't recognize with the weight the size of an elephant on his chest. The heady mix of panic and an acute asthma attack had conspired to keep him lying right where he was until Bucky found him the next day, barely clinging to consciousness (and possibly life). After that, his days had been kind of a blur of his hovering best friend and a lot of well-wishes from people he didn't know who kept calling him "Cap".
Finally getting his body back as well as all his memories had also kept him in bed for longer than normal as he tried to get his head on straight before facing down whatever new weirdness this version of San Francisco had in store for him. But Steve had to concede it wasn't all bad: the volunteer services places he split his time with had all been very understanding, he got to thank people in person—like this dinner, and he was able to spend more time with James (which he hadn't been doing such a great job at, in all honesty).
Steve came around to the kitchen door, having toed off his shoes and hung his jacket up, and held up a package wrapped in still-warm cloth. "I'm pretty sure meat and potatoes were the only consistent food group in my house growing up, although boiled cabbage made far too regular appearances." He laughed. "I tried my hand at making soda bread. Hopefully, it's edible. Thanks for having me, by the way. I know things have been nuts the past few weeks."
“I only had a cute kid running around,” Tony replied as he reached out for the bread. “You seemed to have it far worse.” He placed the bread on the table and added, “If it is hard as a rock, I’m not eating it.” His expression was teasing as he gave Steve a good once over. “You look good,” he said. “Feeling yourself again?”
James had been in his bedroom, finishing up his homework while Tony did the cooking. He grinned when he heard the two voices in the living room. “I’m still a cute kid, I’ll have you know.” James said, with a large grin. James gave Steve a quick hug in greeting, before moving towards the kitchen. “Smells good,” he shot to Tony. “Crusty bread is supposed to be good, right?”
Before Steve could open his mouth to reply, let alone begin to acknowledge whatever warmth was stealing into his cheeks, the casual affection he'd received from James made all other thoughts fly from his head. He blinked owlishly at his son-from-another-dimension and had to pause for a second to swallow around the lump in his throat. "It should only be crusty on the outside," he tried for a meager defense, even while he lingered at the doorway. Truth was, he liked seeing James and Tony in their own space together. It awoke something in his chest, a feeling he'd long since given up on for himself: happy complacency in domesticity. "I was cute, too—if your aesthetic is asthmatic, late-Victorian waif whose very survival was dependent on sheer force of will and the kindness of strangers. Well, friends who were strangers at the time, at least."
He laughed and then looked at James. "Are you happy to be back, so to speak?"
“So, should I get like… butter for it? Jam? Does it taste sour?” James had honestly no idea what this type of bread was for (and to be honest, he’d only just recently learned from Cher that certain types of bread were made for certain types of things).
James began to get plates and cutlery, all the things one would need to set the table. It was mostly just because he needed something to do with his hands. Sometimes, he still didn’t know what to expect from this place and being around his dad made him a weird sort of giddy. “Should have invited Cher to dinner with us.” He mused out loud as he moved towards the table. “Maybe next time?” He looked over at Tony.
Tony wiggled his eyebrows at his son. “Ooooh, bringing the girl around the parents? This must be getting serious.” He pulled the meatloaf from the oven and set it on the table before returning to the stove to get the potatoes. Drinks were already on the table. “And you know you can always bring her around. Friends, too.”
While Steve wouldn't consider himself tech savvy by any means, it didn't mean he was totally oblivious. "Cher? Is she the one with the squirrels?" He blinked off into the distance like he was truly thinking it over. After a moment, he broke off with a laugh and made his way over to the table. "Kidding, kidding. It'd be great to get to know her, and all your friends. Tony, this smells amazing. Depending on the kind of potatoes, you might be able to soften up the crust some. But I think we can find more interesting things to talk about than my attempts at bread making. James, tell me more about Cher. Do you two get to hang out much?"
“Well, you know,” James said, ducking his head at Tony’s slight teasing. “She’s already dealt with me, so she might as well get the whole experience right?”
James was about to correct Steve when he burst out laughing, “Okay, you got me there.” He snickered, “Uh, I actually met Cher when mom disappeared. Cher was there for me. She wouldn’t let me be alone which annoyed me at the time… but it was probably good. Despite the fact that she isn’t very… physical, she went with Peter and I to destroy things at a crash place. We’ve just sort of stuck together since.” He grinned.
“Except we were on like our first date when that stupid angry cupid thing happened, so, I’m glad she stuck it out.” He laughed.
Tony was glad James was experiencing some normal teen life, even if it was peppered with some magical mishaps. “Sounds like a keeper to me,” he replied. “Now you just need to plan a second date before anything else can go crazy.” He passed the food around, encouraging everyone to take plenty. He had to pick up cooking while taking care of the kids underground so he was pretty proud of what he could do nowadays. “Bring her flowers. People like that, right, Cap?”
Being around a Tony who could cook was a novel experience, but then again, so was everything about this dinner. If Steve let himself stop long enough to really consider it all, he might not have had the ease to smile at James and reflect on his own (fairly disastrous) experiences with young infatuation. "Flowers, dancing, and sitting on the front porch, just talking for hours. Maybe holding hands. Not that I got much of a chance to do any of that, especially seeing as how we didn't have a porch at all, but it was in some of the magazines my Ma would get sometimes from the ladies she worked for. Can't go wrong with treating someone like they're special." His gaze flicked to Tony for some inexplicable reason—parental affirmation, probably—before he smiled at James again. "But I might be a little old-fashioned, so what do I know?"
"I really should." James admitted with a grin as he began piling food onto his plate. If nothing else, James could eat. "When aren't things weird here? She was apparently going to come talk to me about a second date, but I was busy being seven." He chuckled.
James tried to envision what Natasha and Steve's dates must have been like, but he still had a hard time picturing it. He knew that the two of them were different from his parents, but he couldn't really see the two of them. "You still have a leg up on me, until a few months ago the only girl I'd spoken to was my sister." He chuckled.
“It has been a good many years since I took someone out,” Tony admitted, “but I think I still have my charms.” He laughed and shook his head, remembering his heyday. “Not that I want you getting up to the trouble I did, kid.”
Another level of screwy, this place. Steve had no choice to set all of that aside. Between his fight with Carol and then the fight for his very life, he was so very, very tired of being picked up and twisted around every few weeks. This slice of normalcy was just what he needed right then and there, and he was glad he got to share it with the two guys he was currently sitting with. Did his heart some good.
"Nature." Steve pointed at himself, and then turned that same finger in Tony's direction. "Nurture." Adopting a contrite expression, he sighed heavily. "Sorry to say it, Jamie, but you might very well be screwed. Still, you got more than your average amount of charm out of it, so maybe Cher will be willing to develop a couple of blindspots for the not-so-great parts you got from us."
“I’m doomed,” James said with a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Tony’s charms and Rogers’ genetics have gotten me through literally everything else in life, so I think it can get me through dating.” He grinned. He had hoped anyway. He didn’t want to put all his cards out there, Cher was the first girl he’d even had a crush on, let alone dated, but he was really, really into her.
“But uh… enough about me and how destined to fail I am?” He said a little anxiously, but his smile remained. “I happen to think that I’ve got the best of both of you.”
Tony smiled at his son. “Thanks, kid. Nice ego boost there.” He scooped up some potatoes and chewed for a moment before adding, “Enough teasing poor Jamie. For a few minutes anyway.” He winked and said, “Steve, how’s work?”
Rogers. The distancing use of his surname was Steve's first clue that he'd stepped in it. The way James continued cemented his initial misapprehension. His tendency toward self-deprecation had backfired spectacularly, and before he could answer Tony’s dinner-table question, Steve had to set it right. He turned enough so that his attention was solely on his son. "Hey, no. That's not what I meant at all. First of all, destiny is bullshit—sorry, Tony—which makes me a firm believer in forging our own path with the tools we have available. And if we don't have those tools, we learn to make them for ourselves. Your life hasn't been roses, I get that, but look at everything you've done with your family, and tell me again about your failure, 'cause from where I'm sitting, you're already a wild success. And you're just starting out, kiddo. Instead of trying to live up to a gh—someone else's legacy, build your own."
He shrugged a shoulder, red faced from having spilled all that out, but turned a polite smile toward Tony like it was nothing. Of course, to Steve, it was anything but. "Anyway, yeah. Work's been good. Everyone's been super understanding about everything. I guess it helps that it's all volunteering gigs. What about you? You made any head starts with all that new fabulous wealth of yours?"
James blinked for a second. He didn’t realize his joke would hit so awkwardly, and moved some potatoes around his plate as he thought about it. “Oh, yes, wildly successful at being impulsive enough to literally broadcast our whereabouts to Ultron, getting Tony captured, and then bullying the Hulk into saving the day.” There was still a smirk on his lips. He had messed up a lot, but he was particularly good at getting out of those problems too. “It’s not important though,” James said with a wave of his hand. “No Ultron here, so” He shrugged.
“Yeah, Tony, tell him about the shop.” James smirked. He didn’t understand all the sciencey bits, but he was fairly certain that if Tony started talking about his gadgets, there wouldn’t be any more time for James to stick his foot in his mouth.
Tony shot Steve an encouraging look before placing a hand on James’ shoulder. He sensed James wanted to change the subject so he did. “The shop is coming along,” he said. “Should be open any day now. Having more money now should definitely help,” he continued with a smirk. “Maybe get to the bottom of the things the government isn’t telling us. The store will be a good front.”
Steve opened his mouth, and then shut it again even faster. He seemed to be doing a heck of a lot of that this evening. Probably was a sign, but of what, he wasn't sure. "I was seriously about to say 'the less I know the better' or some riff on plausible deniability, but then I realized I no longer carried the mantel of Captain America, and I wouldn't have cared even if I had—which is all to say, conspire away, guys. I'm here to help out when and where I can, whatever you need."
“Good to have you on our side,” Tony replied sincerely before pushing his empty plate away. “There is dessert, but I didn’t bake it. I’m good, but not that good.” He stood up and started gathering dishes. “Why don’t you guys go hang out in the living room and I’ll call you when it's ready?”
James smiled “I don’t remember having any issues with the brownies you made when we were little.” Of course, he had definitely had some pretty delicious desserts since he’d been here, but he still had good memories of cookies and birthday cakes as a child. He studied the two of them for a moment, “Hey, I got this, old man,” James said, taking the dishes from Tony, “You cooked, I’ll clean. Go… I don’t know have a scotch in the parlor or whatever old men do.” he teased, shooing them away.