Task Failed Successfully

by KandiSheek

Summary:

Steve had long since stopped answering questions about his and Tony's relationship truthfully. People had a certain idea of who Tony was - suave, charming, whip-smart and a bit of a dick. None of which were necessarily false.

But the truth was that Tony Stark was the singularly most adorable person Steve had ever met. And nobody would ever believe him when he said it.

Notes:

This is a fill for the Europe Loves Stony prompt "Cooking together but failing and ordering in". I hope you enjoy it! <3

Steve had long since stopped answering questions about his and Tony's relationship truthfully. And it wasn't because he necessarily wanted to lie – just because he was sick of the same old follow-up questions.

When people asked him what being in a relationship with Tony was like, he just smiled and said, “He took me to Paris to see the Louvre last summer. Did you know he's fluid in French?” Which wasn't untrue, but it was the sort of polished answer that people who didn't know Tony very well expected to hear.

What Steve didn't say was, “He plays fetch with his robots, calls his coffee machine Brenda and loves being tickled, even though he acts like he hates it.” The truth was that Tony Stark was the singularly most adorable person Steve had ever met, and nobody would ever believe him when he said it.

He was reminded of that today as he watched Tony pace through the kitchen, periodically crouching down in front of the oven and peering through the glass window with squinted eyes. “Nothing yet,” he announced for the fifth time, obviously a little grumpy about it. “How long is baking supposed to take anyway?”

“Depends on what you're making,” Steve said, smiling to himself as he kept folding their laundry on the couch. Tony usually got his things washed and dried through a cleaning service, but after the flour and egg mishap earlier this morning, Steve had tossed Tony's shirt and pants in with his own load of laundry. Having Tony's clothes in his apartment was incredibly satisfying in a way he was trying not to look too closely at. He and Tony weren't at that stage of their relationship yet, but there were definitely hints at something more.

Like Tony suddenly taking an interest in cooking together. By which Steve meant that he'd been delegated to supervising duty as Tony tried to whip up a baked dish that was notoriously hard to make, because Tony scoffed at the idea of failure.

Steve hadn't had the heart to stop him.

“Wait, I think it's rising,” Tony shouted from the kitchen. “Look! That's sort of soufflé-shaped, isn't it? It's working!”

“That's great! How much left on the timer?”

“Three minutes.” Tony bounced a little on his heels, and Steve quickly put a hand over his mouth so he wouldn't laugh. Adorable. “I should get the cream ready.”

“You do that.” Steve picked up the full laundry basket, eying the small pile of Tony's clothes that he'd placed on top. He bit his lip. “Um. Did you want these back? Cause you can just leave them here, if you want.”

Tony looked over his shoulder, his eyes going soft as he picked up on what Steve was asking. Then he smiled. “Sure. I bet they'll come in handy at some point.”

Steve grinned, his heart doing a little flip. “I'm sure they will. I'll just –“ He nodded at the doorway, and Tony waved him off.

“Go right ahead. Dessert will be served when you get back.” Tony was just assembling the hand-held mixer when Steve left the room, giddy at the thought of stashing Tony's clothes right next to his own. Baby steps. He put the laundry away as he heard the mixer turn on, not quite loud enough to drown out the sound of Tony whistling to himself. Another point in the column of things that were devastatingly attractive about Tony. Steve really had it bad.

He'd just finished hanging the last of his shirts in his closet when he heard Tony give a strangled shout from the other room. His heart was instantly in his throat as he sprinted over, whipping around the corner to see –

“No,” Tony moaned, staring in horror at the baking dish that he'd apparently just pulled from the oven – where the soufflé had completely lost its shape, lying at the bottom of the dish like a deflated, wrinkled balloon. “No! What the fuck?”

Steve hissed in sympathy, walking over to get a closer look and put a hand on Tony's shoulder. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I told you, soufflés are finicky.”

“We followed the recipe to a T! It makes no sense,” Tony lamented, and Steve shrugged.

“Sometimes that's how it goes. Baking is hard, no two ways around it.”

“I don't get it,” Tony said, pulling out his phone where he'd presumably saved the recipe and staring at the screen with eyes like daggers. “I measured everything. I timed it perfectly. Fuck this recipe, Bethany lied to me.”

Steve patted his shoulder, amused but trying not to show it. “We probably just forgot an ingredient somewhere.” He was using the royal 'We' to spare Tony's feelings, but his efforts didn't seem to go appreciated as Tony lifted his head to turn his glare on Steve.

“I'm Tony Stark. I don't forget things,” he blustered, and Steve fought hard not to roll his eyes.

“Remind me again how many times you forgot to eat and sleep last week?”

“I was busy! That doesn't count.” Tony poked the soufflé with a pout. It deflated even more. “Okay, fuck this. This recipe was rigged.”

“I don't think the soufflé cares.” Steve watched as Tony tossed his head back, groaning up at the ceiling. “It's fine. I'll still eat it, if you don't want it.”

“We'll have to eat the cream either way. I already whipped it up,” Tony said, wrinkling his nose. “Do we have anything else to put it on?”

“The soufflé might still taste good,” Steve said, and Tony took a spoon, dipping it into the wilted soufflé and putting it in his mouth. His eyes rounded with surprise as he smacked his lips.

“Huh. Yeah, okay, that's not bad.”

“There you go. Let's put some cream on it and eat.”

Tony sighed but grabbed some plates while Steve fetched the serving spoon and dished out two moderate portions of soufflé. “This looks terrible.”

“It's not so bad,” Steve said, and Tony gave him a dubious look. “I'm serious. It looks good to me.”

“No offense, honey, but you need to get your eyes checked.” Tony put a huge dollop of whipped cream on each of their plates, then immediately stuck his spoon into his dessert and took a big bite.

Only to pull a face a second later.

"Blegh. In what world is this what cream tastes like?"

Steve raised an eyebrow. "What's it supposed to taste like in your opinion?"

"I don't know, sweet?"

Steve dipped his spoon into his own serving of cream, licking it clean and humming. "Did you add sugar?"

Tony's silence was answer enough.

"Did you know that you'd have to add sugar?" Steve asked, and Tony groaned, slapping both hands across his face.

"Why the fuck would I know that? Cream is supposed to taste like cream, for fuck's sake."

"I thought you said you'd done this before?"

"I was trying to impress you," Tony snapped, throwing up his hands. "Do I look like someone who cooks fucking soufflés?"

"Technically, you bake a soufflé." Tony looked like he was about to bang his head against the wall, so Steve caught him in a hug, holding him tight. "We can try again, if you want."

"No. I give up," Tony grumbled, plonking his head down on Steve's chest. "Baking is stupid and not worth the effort."

Steve stroked Tony's hair, chuckling under his breath. "We could have done something easier," he said, shaking his head. "I almost exclusively ate boiled potatoes and cabbage for the first fifteen years of my life. I don't think my palate is very discerning."

“That's sweet and all, but mine is.”

Steve snorted. “Last night you said your favorite food was a cheeseburger.”

“No, I said it was a cheeseburger from that tiny little hole-in-the-wall mom and pop restaurant that I haven't taken you to yet,” Tony said haughtily. “When you try their cheeseburgers, you'll understand.”

“I'm sure I will.”

“That's placating. You're placating me.” Tony dug his fingers in under Steve's ribs until he snorted a laugh. “You dare disparage my culinary expertise? Do you, Sir?”

“Alright, alright,” Steve chuckled, prying Tony's hands away from his sides. “I'll withhold any judgement until I actually try it.”

“Thank you.” Tony turned to survey the kitchen again. “On that note, do you want to get burgers? I don't even want to look at this mess right now.”

“We're going to clean it up together,” Steve said patiently, pressing a kiss to Tony's cheek. “Then we can get burgers.”

“Or I can get them delivered and they'll be here right when we're done.”

Steve nodded. “Or that.”

“Great.” Tony tipped his head back. “JARVIS, get twice my usual from that place that does the poutine, you know the one.”

“Indeed, Sir. Two Matterhorn cheeseburgers with a side of coleslaw and the sweet potato poutine.”

“Throw in some onion rings and chicken fingers too.” Tony looked at Steve. “Anything else?”

“I trust your judgement,” Steve said, and Tony nodded.

“That's all then. Thanks, J.”

“My pleasure, Sir.”

It was so easy to get food these days. Steve still remembered a time when he'd needed to tighten his belt every winter, when fruit and bread were a luxury. And now Steve could just tell the open air around him that he was hungry, and a supercomputer would make sure that Steve had a hot meal on his plate in thirty minutes or less. His life was very strange.

“You know, sometimes it hits me all over again,” Steve said with a bit of a wistful tone that Tony obviously picked up on, judging by the way he glanced over at Steve. “How different things are here.”

“Here?” Tony asked, and Steve waved a hand at their surroundings.

“You know, here. In the future.”

Tony smiled a little sadly. “You're not living in the future, Steve.” He took Steve's hand and set it on his chest, where Steve could feel his heart beating strong and steady like a drum. “You're living in the present. This is your present.”

“I know that,” Steve said softly, because this was something that he and his therapist were still working on. “Sorry I'm being maudlin.”

“No, please, be maudlin all you like.” Tony kissed him before he started dragging him over to the couch, leaving the kitchen mess behind. “Nothing makes me happier than listening to you bitch about something.”

“That's a very strange thing to like,” Steve said, and Tony scoffed.

“No, it literally isn't. You love it when I give you the office gossip.”

“How is Jessica?” Steve asked, and Tony smirked at him.

“Single again. Pascal came around to the tower at some point, but security escorted him out. I give it two weeks until they get it on again.”

Steve shook his head with a sigh. “She deserves better.”

“Well, unfortunately for her, I've already taken the best off the market.” Tony pushed Steve down onto the couch, climbing into his lap with a devilish smile. “I think she has a crush on you. Though, to be fair, who doesn't?”

Steve flushed. “Tony, come on.”

“I'm one hundred percent serious.” Tony leaned down to kiss Steve's neck, wrapping his arms around Steve's shoulders. “If I ever figure out how to siphon jealousy as an energy source, I'm going to make billions.”

“You're already rich.”

“But alas, money can't buy happiness. Or time.” Tony's warm breath tickled Steve's neck as he spoke. “And speaking of time, we should hurry this up before the food gets here.”

“We still have to clean the kitchen after we eat, you realize that, right?” Steve asked, fighting hard to stay on track when Tony nibbled on his ear, turning most parts of his brain straight to mush. “Tony!”

“Yeah, yeah, you ol' stick in the mud,” Tony grumbled, and Steve huffed in mock offense.

“That's what you're going with? Really? When you're trying to seduce me?”

Tony scoffed. “Let's be real, I barely have to try with you. Hey, hey,” he yelped when Steve abruptly stood up, lifting Tony onto his feet as well. “Wait, please, I didn't mean it –“

“You're not wrong,” Steve said mildly, smiling as he grabbed Tony around the waist and marched him back into the kitchen. “Which is why we're going to clean up before you distract me too much.”

“Noo,” Tony moaned, going limp in Steve's grip, which only made him pick Tony up entirely to carry him into the kitchen bridal style. Tony hung in his arms like a fainting damsel, still groaning dramatically. “How dare you confront me with the fruits of my failure? This is a cruel and unusual punishment.”

“It'll take us ten minutes to clean up, tops,” Steve said reasonably, pecking Tony on the lips. “If we do it together, that is.”

“Ugh.” Tony wrinkled his nose, but Steve could see the smile twitching at his lips. “We'll do that together too, huh?”

Steve grinned, setting Tony back on his feet and pushing a rag into his hand. “You better believe it.”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 4 of Europe Loves Stony 2025