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New York’s villains seem to have taken the week off, so on Wednesday Tony announces a team dinner, telling the Avengers that under no uncertain terms are they allowed to miss this dinner. He says he’s inviting Pepper, Rhodey, Peter, and Strange, and that everyone is welcome to invite people they want, as long as they tell Tony ahead of time, but preferably now. Clint asks if he can invite Jessica and Matt, Natasha asks about Frank, Bucky asks about Danny, Steve asks about Luke and Sam, and then it’s settled, dinner is set for Friday at 8pm on the Avengers’ communal floor and Tony sends invites out to each of the people who don’t live in the tower and they wait. Natasha has the most food to prepare, mostly because she’s the most confident in her skills out of the group. Clint usually messes up at least one of the dishes and has to start over, Bruce makes delicious food but he’s always too nervous about messing up and spends half the time just second guessing himself, and Bucky is good, but he spends half of his time trying to keep Steve from messing things up. Tony is not allowed in the kitchen to cook; the last time he tried to help out, he nearly burned the entire kitchen down. (“It’s my kitchen!” Tony had protested. “You caught a salad on fire, Tony. A salad .”) Most of the dogs are out with Tony in the living room except for Fubar, who sits in front of the fridge, watching Bucky work in case he’s needed for a seizure alert. Natasha works on the fruit trays and salads at the counter by the living room, her eggplant parmesan is in the oven, and she has the ingredients set up on the island for the s'mores cookies, blueberry muffins, and cinnamon rolls. Clint’s working on a loaded potato soup, his steaks are in a second oven, his banana bread batter is off to the side, and he’s pan frying some shrimp for the fettuccine Steve’s working on. Steve also has a pot of alfredo sauce going, and chicken and sausage in another oven; the chicken is for the other half of his fettuccine and the sausage for Bucky’s spaghetti. Bucky has marinara sauce to go with the spaghetti, a dish of macaroni and cheese in the fourth oven, and the ingredients for his salted caramel cheesecake laid out. Bruce is working on tomato soup and spring rolls, a key lime pie, and he has two sheet pans of roasted vegetables in the ovens with Bucky’s mac and cheese and Natasha’s eggplant parmesan. Natasha listens to the men bicker behind her, swapping ingredients and complaining about all the hard work they’re doing. She rolls her eyes, chopping up a perfect row of strawberry slices, then three more rows of kiwi, mango, and apple, and she repeats the pattern four more times before the elevator dings. Tony leaps to his feet from his spot on the couch, practically running towards the elevator in his excitement. “Who is it?” “The best wingman in the world!” Gets shouted back, and then Sam’s rounding the corner, tupperware container in hand. “Aww, you’re not who I wanted to see,” Tony says, lunging for the container just as Sam lifts it up out of his reach. “Whoa, that’s no way to treat the man who brought you white chocolate raspberry cheesecake cookies!” Sam drops the cookies off in the kitchen, Tony trailing him like a duckling. “That’s a hell of a mouthful to say.” “Yeah, and they’ll be a hell of a mouthful to eat, too, trust me, they’re damn good,” Sam assures him. Natasha waves Sam over. “If you’re so confident in your cookies, maybe you can take over the blueberry muffins?” she asks, and Sam gives her a look of mock offense. “Now, just what kind of one-trick baker do you think I am, Romanoff? I'll show you how to make a real blueberry muffin,” he says, and he moves over to the right set of ingredients, measuring things out. Tony wanders back over to the couch, complaining as he goes, and the dogs watch him come back over, Diva’s tail sweeping across the carpet as Tony reaches down to scratch him behind the ears. “So, I’ve had your breakfast before, but I didn’t know you could bake, too,” Natasha comments, and Sam shrugs. “Well, I always liked food, and after serving in the military, I needed an outlet. Kept having flashbacks, nightmares. Still do, but baking helps. Besides, anything I bake, I can take to the Veterans Resource Centers around town, homeless shelters, you know? Helps me feel useful.” Natasha nods. “Yeah, it’s always good to have something to look forward to, something to keep you going every morning. Personally, I just like a cup of tea.” “Really? What kind?” The elevator dings before she can answer. Tony’s leaping to his feet again. “Who’s there?” “Your favorite!” Rhodey walks in with Valor at his side and two bottles of wine in his arms, and almost drops the wine when Tony wraps him in a hug. “Honey bear! Good to see you! So glad you could make it!” Rhodey laughs. “Are you happy about me, or the wine?” he sets the wine near Sam’s tupperware. “You, obviously! I could buy myself better wine then what you can afford on military pay.” Rhodey’s following Tony back to the couch when Natasha stops him. “Hey, Rhodes, can you get the cinnamon rolls set up for me?” It’s a challenge, and Rhodey takes it. “Of course I can! Mama Rhodes doesn’t send men out into the world that can’t cook or bake.” He sends Valor into the living room to relax, and then starts working on the cinnamon rolls to Sam’s right. “Nat, you’re stealing my people to talk to,” Tony whines, and then the elevator dings again. “Stark, you better have the good fucking whiskey!” Tony lights up as Jessica and Frank storm into the living room, slightly bruised and very sweaty, clothes splattered with dirt and blood. “On it!” he heads to the dining room for the alcohol, and Frank and Jessica head to the kitchen, washing their hands in the two separate sinks. Jessica immediately heads back to the living room, but when Frank dries his hands, he spots Steve at the stove and frowns. “Hey, are you trying to serve us shitty fettuccine?” he asks, and Steve turns, eyebrows furrowed. “No?” Steve answers, but he sounds hesitant, and Frank just snorts, shouldering Steve out of the way. “Then move, because you don’t know what you’re doing and it’s sad. There’s a box cake mix behind you, I assume you can do that?” Bucky laughs, and Steve just blushes red, moving to work on the cake instead. “Sorry, don’t think we’ve been introduced yet, I’m Bucky,” he says, holding a hand out to Frank, who shakes it briefly, changing the stove settings for the fettuccine. “Frank. Good to meet you. You’re the one that knows that dumb bastard, aren’t you?” “That’s me.” “Good, then explain to me how he doesn’t even know how to cook pasta?” Bucky grins. “Well, Steve's Irish, and he was a scrawny, sickly little thing as a kid, so he never learned to cook, and even if he had, all his mom ever cooked was potatoes because they were quick and easy, and she had learned from Steve’s grandma.” Frank nods. “Alright, fine. But you seem to have it down pretty well.” “Yeah, well, I learned to do everything, I used to cook for Steve if his mom wasn’t home, and after she died, I did all his cooking.” “Huh. Is it something you enjoy? Because I’m betting there’s tips you’ve missed about cooking for the last 70 years.” Frank leans over to look at Bucky’s pot of spaghetti, nodding in approval. “I like it, yeah. Why, what’s changed?” “Well…” Natasha stops listening to the conversation when she hears the elevator again. “I’m just saying, that kind of has a ring to it! ‘Power Man and Iron Fist, Heroes for Hire’” Danny says, and Luke groans. “Danny, no, we’ve talked about this, I’m not a hero, and even if I was, that sounds like a terrible idea.” Danny looks like he’s going to argue, and Natasha interrupts before he can. “Boys! Come help in the kitchen, will you?” Both of them wander over, and Natasha gestures at the counter in front of her and the island behind her. “We’ve got fruit platters ready to be organized, salads to mix, and cookies to make. What works for you?” “Ooh, organizing the fruit platters! It’s like a plate-size version of feng shui,” Danny says, and Natasha points him to one of the plates. “Have at it. Danny, wasn’t it?” He nods, so she turns to Luke. “My name’s Luke,” he tells her, then thinks about it for a moment. “I think I might do better with cookies.” “Cookies it is. We’re making s’mores cookies, everything’s ready for you over by Sam,” she says, and he nods, getting to work. Stephen arrives a few minutes later. “Sorry for the delay, I had some paperwork to finish,” he tells her, leaving Thelonious over with the other dogs, who have now gathered in a circle around Tony and Jessica, both of whom are sitting cross legged on the floor and complaining about their teammates over a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of brandy. “I can mix one of the salads,” Stephen offers, and Natasha pushes one of the bowls towards him, working on arranging one of the fruit platters now that all the ingredients are at least ready for the last fruit platter and the other salad. Peter arrives next, stumbling in a little out of breath and carrying a store bought fruit tray. “Uh,” he starts, seeing the platters Danny and Natasha are working on, “I’m sorry, it’s not homemade, but Aunt May was working, and I wasn’t really sure what to make, so-” “That’s still really kind of you,” Natasha says, and she means it. She takes the fruit from him, setting it to the side. “You didn’t have much available to you, but you still made an effort, because you care about us. That’s what really matters. Now get over here, I’ll show you how I’m doing this fruit platter and then we can mix the salad together.” Peter’s a smart kid and a fast learner, so Natasha already has him mixing the salad when Pepper arrives. Pepper stops across the counter from Natasha and Peter, watching them work for a minute or two, and then she hangs up on someone with a sharp “Listen, take my advice or don’t, but as CEO of Stark Industries, you may not like the consequences of ignoring this ‘stupid bitch,’ as you so eloquently put it.” “Sorry,” she says when Peter freezes and Natasha raises an eyebrow at her, “it’s just been a long day. Anything I can do to help? Might be a good distraction.” “There’s one fruit tray left to organize,” Natasha tells her. “That would be wonderful.” Everyone’s carrying plates over to the table when Matt finally arrives, looking embarrassed. “Sorry, I lost track of time,” he says, taking a seat at the table as the last few desserts are put in the oven, the timers are set, and everyone gets settled. There’s a few moments of confusion as people pass dish after dish around, and then the conversations start up around the table. Natasha catches a few things here or there, but then she finds herself drawn to a conversation between Steve, Bucky, and Jessica. “Tony mentioned something about you having a faster metabolism?” Steve asks. Jessica sighs. “Of course he shared that information. Yeah, I do. I can get drunk, but it’s fucking hard. So I prefer to just not really eat and spend all my time drinking instead, food makes it harder to get and stay drunk. Alcohol helps keep the damn edge off.” “Careful, Steve doesn’t like that kind of language.” “I hate you, Natasha.” Bucky looks shocked. “Wait, are you telling me that you seriously don’t eat? You just, what, drink and try not to die?” “Yeah, basically. Why, what the fuck do you two do?” Jessica sounds defensive, but either Bucky doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because he just shrugs. “Well, Steve here eats about 7,000 calories a day, and I eat what I can. Ain’t always easy, can’t seem to get myself to eat enough, but I’m trying. I wish I could get drunk, though, might help with some of the memories.” Jessica nods. “Yeah, I get that. There’s a reason I drink so damn much. I don’t trust myself if I’m not at least partially out of it.” Well, that’s an interesting tidbit. Natasha knows why Bucky has terrible memories, but she’s curious as to what happened to Jessica. Apparently Bucky shares Natasha’s curiosity, because he asks, “What did you say you do for a living again?” “Private Investigator, public dumbass.” Bucky laughs. “Fair enough. You and Steve would get along just fine then.” “Oh? Do tell.” Natasha still wants to know what happened to Jessica, but she files the question away for a later date. She can always find the answers on her own; after all, she wasn’t a highly trained international assassin for nothing. The rest of dinner goes by smoothly; when most of the food on the table is gone and everyone’s plate is cleared or mostly cleared, the table is cleaned off, and then the desserts are moved to the table. There’s another short scramble for food, and then everyone’s trying the different desserts. Sam’s cookies turn out to be a group favorite; “I told you,” Sam says, grinning from ear to ear when Tony takes the first bite of one of his cookies and moans. Bruce’s key lime pie is a close second, and he looks shocked that everyone enjoys it so much. Rhodey’s cinnamon rolls take third, followed closely by Sam’s blueberry muffins and Bucky’s salted caramel cheesecake. Luke’s cookies, Clint’s banana bread, and Steve’s devil’s food cake are all amazing too, but they aren’t snatched up with quite the same enthusiasm as the other desserts; as it is, Peter manages to get the last three of Sam’s cookies by shooting them with his webslinger, pulling them in and shoving all three in his mouth at once before someone else can steal them. That gets a moment of stunned silence from the entire table, and then Clint is laughing so hard that he’s actually on the floor, and Lucky wanders up to lick his face, watching his handler for a moment before leaving the room again. “Peter!” Tony starts, and the kid just shrugs, mouth still full of cookies, looking not even the slightest bit remorseful. After that, everyone decides to call it a night, and the guests start to head out again. “Are you sure you can’t stay a few days longer?” Natasha hears Tony plead, but Pepper just pulls him into a hug, sighing. “You know I want to, Tony, but I really do have to go finish up some business at the LA offices. I flew up because I know how rare it is that you all get calm nights, but I have to go back. I’ll be home in two weeks, and then I shouldn’t have to leave again for at least a month.” Natasha watches as Pepper leaves, and then as Diva nudges Tony’s hip with his nose, pushing the man towards the elevator and bed. When the floor is finally quiet and everyone’s gone home, Natasha stays up for a while, first seeing what she can find out about Jessica Jones, and then working off some tension in the shooting range. She has a feeling that she’s going to need to make some changes to her potential service dog handlers list.