Marvel One-Shots

Stony (Steve + Tony)

Title: A Stark Sense Of Humor

The Avengers lounge was unusually quiet, the hum of machinery and distant echoes of Jarvis’ constant vigilance filling the air.

Tony Stark leaned back in one of the oversized chairs, spinning a pen in his fingers. His eyes gleamed with the mischievous light that usually spelled trouble for the rest of the team.

"Steve," Tony said, casually throwing his legs over the arm of the chair. "I'm making a documentary about my life."

Steve Rogers, who was peacefully reading through a stack of old mission reports, barely glanced up.

"That so?" He asked, not quite taking the bait yet.

"Yeah," Tony continued, grinning. "And I want you to play my father."

At that, Steve finally lowered the papers and raised an eyebrow. "Your father?"

"Mm-hmm. Howard Stark. The man, the myth, the legend." Tony’s grin widened as he leaned forward. "You’d be perfect."

Steve shook his head, laughing softly. "Tony, I don't want to be your father."

"Perfect!" Tony exclaimed, slapping his knee with mock enthusiasm. "You already know your lines."

Steve blinked, caught between shock and amusement at how effortlessly Tony had twisted his response.

"You’re something else," Steve muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Tony’s eyes twinkled as he tilted his head, considering Steve. "Well, it’s not like I had a great audition process for a dad anyway, so I figure you'd at least bring some character to the role. You know, instead of... distant disappointment."

Steve’s lips twitched, and for a moment, Tony thought the Captain might shut him down with a lecture on respecting one’s parents or some vintage 1940s wisdom.

Instead, Steve leaned back and, with a glimmer in his eye, replied, "Sure, Tony. I can spend the entire movie not showing up to any of your birthday parties. Really get into character."

Tony let out a bark of laughter. "Ouch, Rogers. That one hurt. You really know how to hit where it stings."

"I’ve been around long enough to know when someone's used to being let down," Steve said. "I just didn't expect you to be so keen on typecasting."

Tony raised his glass in a mock toast. "To being let down! An entire childhood of broken promises and unmet expectations. Cheers, Cap."

Steve raised an imaginary glass in return. "And to being the father who never quite cared enough to stick around."

The two fell into a comfortable silence, the banter having eased an unspoken tension neither of them acknowledged openly. Steve wasn’t one to indulge in dark humor, but with Tony, it felt right, like a strange kind of therapy.

Tony sighed, a grin still plastered on his face. "You know, for a guy who’s supposed to be all wholesome and apple pie, you’ve got a pretty wicked sense of humor."

Steve shrugged. "I’ve seen a lot. Sometimes, humor's the only thing that gets you through."

"Touché," Tony said, nodding. He glanced at Steve, his expression softening for just a moment. "Thanks, though."

"For what?"

"For—well, for being here. I don’t think I ever said that. Not to the right people anyway."

Steve smiled, understanding what Tony wasn’t saying. "Anytime, Stark."

"Alright, enough feelings for one day," Tony said, abruptly standing up and stretching. "Let’s go see if Clint can beat his own record of hitting five targets while hanging upside down from the ceiling. Loser buys lunch."

Steve chuckled, getting up to follow Tony out of the lounge. "You know, you're going to lose."

Tony turned and winked. "That’s what sons who are disappointments are supposed to do, right?"

Steve just raised his glass in answer.