Tony Stark one shots

Tired kitchen science

Steve Rogers opened the pantry door to get a granola bar after his run and his hand immediately bumped something hairy. He shut the door hastily and took a deep breath. From inside the pantry, something whined.

"Quiet..."

Steve yanked the door back open and stuck his hand back in the pantry, groping for the light switch. He clicked it on and found Tony curled up on the lowest shelf, his head pillowed on a box of granola bars while the rest of him contorted into a tiny ball on a bag of rice. He squinted up at the intrusion of light.

"St-Steeeeeve?"

"Tony? What are you doing in here?"

Tony threw an arm theatrically over his eyes and mumbled something unintelligible ending with "seven years of water polo and a red hula hoop."

"What?"

"I scienced too hard, Steve." Tony rolled over so his back was to the door, making the shelf flex dangerously. "Go 'way."

Steve stared down at his teammate and sucked in a deep breath through his nose. Sometimes he wondered if Fury had put him on the team just so it wasn't run by the children his teammates actually were.

"Tony, you're not sleeping in there. You're on a burlap sack of grain in a hall closet. Come on." Steve stuck his hands under Tony's arms and pried him off the shelf, pulling him into an upright position where Tony promptly sagged against the wall and giggled.

"Steeeef. Stev. Stevie." Tony huffed out a breath through his nose. "Captain Ameeeerica." The inventor's head dipped to his chest and without warning his legs collapsed.

"Woah!" Steve lunged forward, grabbing the smaller man and scooping him up as Tony sagged into an unconscious pile of limbs. He ended up holding Stark bridal style to be able to support his head as he made his way out of the darkened hall and into the common room, where Clint was thumbing through channels from the top of the sofa.

"Clint, have you seen Bruce?"

Clint didn't look up from the TV, which was displaying a brightly colored survival show.

"Nope. Haven't seen him since Monday."

"Clint, it's Thursday."

Clint finally looked up from the TV and saw Steve's predicament. He slipped off the back of the sofa and bounded over to them, worry creasing his face.

"What happened? Is he hurt?"

"No." Steve hiked Tony up closer to his chest. "I found him asleep in the hall pantry." He reflected on their brief conversation and fought a smile.

"He said he...scienced too hard?"

"We scienced too hard." Bruce padded past them into the kitchen looking like he'd spent the night sleeping in the remains of a campfire. "I want a shower."

"What exactly were you two doing?"

Bruce was flicking through the tea packets on the counter, his puffy eyes blinking as he tried to read the flavors. When he went through them for a third time with no answer, Clint strode over, picked one at random, and began making a cup.

"Thanks." Bruce slid into a seat at the counter and rubbed his hands over his face, leaving grey streaks behind.

"So...what were you two doing?"

"Oh. Right. Well, we started out ok. He wanted to talk to me about making some adjustment to the material in Hulk's pants, and we were looking into a couple different materials. Then the fabrication unit caught fire."