Apartment Above Stark Industries

[heroic_jawline]

It was Tony's birthday, so Steve had splashed out by getting delivery from Delmonico's (a restaurant so old and posh that it had been around even longer than him): porterhouse steaks, crab ravioli, and a giant thing of fried onions because Steve had been hungry when he'd placed the order. And a baked Alaska because it sounded very fancy to Steve, placed safely in the freezer to be set on fire later.

He glared down at his feet. "Patriot, I love you, but not enough to feed you Tony's porterhouse. Back off."

The puppy was undeterred. Surely if he looked cute enough, he'd get a piece?

"Tony! Dinner!"

Comments

[heroic_jawline]

Well. Dudes and power tools? Or something?

Patriot sat at Steve's feet and tried to demonstrate through the World's Saddest Eyes how very much he needed a porterhouse bone the size of his head.

"No," Steve told him.

[imafuturist]

"J, don't douse us," Tony said, returning with a torch that had the appropriate firepower to be used on the suit.

[heroic_jawline]

"Okay, so the restaurant says I'm supposed to take this eggshell, fill it with rum and then light it, and then add more rum as it's on fire."

What could possibly go wrong?

[imafuturist]

"I don't think I have any rum. You think bourbon will do?"

It was going to be a fireball.

[heroic_jawline]

"I don't see why not," said poor optimistic, dumbass Steve.

[imafuturist]

"I'll even grab the good stuff."

Tony, no.

[heroic_jawline]

"What a good idea!"

STEVEN.

[imafuturist]

How had they lived this long? How?

Tony beamed, going to snag the bottle for this. "We can have some to drink after too."

[heroic_jawline]

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Steve said, carefully placing the eggshell half on the counter next to the dessert.

[imafuturist]

"I'll grab glasses and ice. You get started on the flambe," Tony replied.

[heroic_jawline]

"Right," Steve said, pouring rum into the eggshell and setting it into the little divot on top of the baked Alaska. "You sure you don't want to torch it? It is your birthday."

[imafuturist]

"Nah, you can wow me instead," Tony said, pouring them both flamable, flamable glasses of booze.

[heroic_jawline]

"Here goes nothing, then," were definitely not the words someone holding something flammable should say, but Steve said it anyway.

[imafuturist]

Well. Hopefully their eyebrows would grow back? Because that big 'whoosh' of flame filled the kitchen for a second there.

"UM."

The glasses in Tony's hands and the baked Alaska were still on fire. So. Mission half accomplished?

[heroic_jawline]

"Whoops," Steve said sheepishly, blowing the dessert out.

[imafuturist]

Tony blew the drinks out, quickly putting them down before he was burned by hot glass. "That was something."

[heroic_jawline]

"Maybe a one-time only something," Steve said, giving Tony's face a worried assessment. "You okay?"

[imafuturist]

"Would you believe that wasn't even the first time I've been caught in a fireball?"

Well. Yes. Your lives, boys.

[heroic_jawline]

"I would absolutely believe that," Steve said dryly.

[imafuturist]

"My beard okay?" Of course that was his concern.

[heroic_jawline]

"Slightly singed," Steve admitted a little guiltily, "but still symmetrical."

[imafuturist]

"It needed a trim anyway," Tony said, though it was clear he was trying to make Steve feel better about it.

[heroic_jawline]

"Maybe," Steve said, leaning to kiss him better.

[imafuturist]

"Now cut into the fire bomb before it melts," Tony murmured, holding onto the collar of Steve's shirt for another kiss.

[heroic_jawline]

"We'll just count all of this as singing and candles, okay?" Steve replied.