Metal Birds?

13: The Patriot and the Mechanic

The next day, Steve walked down to Tony's lab with a cup of coffee and a plate of food. He balanced both things with one hand so he could type in the code and unlock the door. He walked inside and set the food on a table, after spending a bit too much time trying to find a clear spot.

"Tony," he called, walking over to the sleeping mechanic. Tony mumbled something but remained asleep, hunched over the lab table, surrounded by little bits of machinery.

Steve shook him lightly, whispering his name. Tony shot up and jerked himself out of Steve's grasp, his eyes darting about. He spotted the blond and signed in relief. Then he glared at him.

"I'm mad at you," he remembered. Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Do you even know why you're mad at me?" Tony shrugged.

"You did something stupid, probably." Steve rolled his eyes and gestured to the plate on the other table.

"I made you breakfast."

"Yeah, whatever," Tony grumbled, turning back to his machines and fiddling with them. Steve crossed his arms.

"If you can tell me why you're mad at me, I'll leave you alone." Tony scoffed.

"What are you, five?"

"I could say the same about you," he said with sass. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Fine. I have no idea why I'm mad at you. Are you happy now?" he snapped, getting off of the stool and pushing past Steve to grab the mug. Steve shrugged.

"Not necessarily happy, but not mad. I'd love it if you knew why you were mad at me, though." Tony shot him a look and Steve rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, we can't all have what we want, Cap," Tony mumbled, biting a piece of bacon and taking a swig of coffee. He went back to his stool and grabbed his screwdriver and one of the small machines on the table, beginning to take it apart.

"Yeah, I know. Tell me Stark, what is it that you want but can't have?" Steve asked with a raised eyebrow, hopping up to sit on a table.

"Oh, a lot of things, Rogers. I want a lot of things."

"Like what?" Tony squinted suspiciously at him. "Maybe you'll talk if I tell you what I want?" he suggested. "Okay. Well, I want my first love too not be slowly dying in a hospital in D.C. and I want my best friend to not be a murderer who tried to kill me two years ago."

Tony chucked and Steve glared at him. "Something funny, Stark?" he spat. Tony shrugged.

"I just think your situation is hilarious. I mean, your best friend from the 1920s died, but not really, and became a murderer with amnesia. Your first love, as you put it, is older than you will ever look and dying slowly of aging, which is ironic because you still look twenty-five."

"That's true, I guess. Now you have too tell me what you want," Steve bargained, like a child would for a lollipop after being in the doctors office. Tony shrugged and set the now different pieces of the machinery on the table.

"I want some stuff, I guess. I mean, there are like three major things." Steve nodded and waited patiently for the mechanic to continue. "Well, for one, I want my parents too be alive and not hate me like they did when I was a kid. Two, I want Peter to actually listen to me when I tell him things. And, uh, the third thing's kind of more personal," he finished, a light blush on his cheeks.

Now Steve really wanted to know.

"Please?" he begged. Tony sighed and got off his stool, walking over to Steve.

"Why do you even want to know so badly?" he questioned, taking another piece of bacon off the plate and eating it. Steve shrugged.

"I like to know things," the blond said simply.