CHERRY

Hello! I read this doujinshi for the first time last year, and realised there has not yet been a proper translation of it anywhere, so I decided I could use it as my first foray into translation! It’s so beautiful and amazingly-worded, I don’t think I could do it any justice. Please forgive any mistakes, they are all mine - I’ve never done translation, cleaning or typesetting before, and this is the first time I’ve tried all three. Enjoy!

Steve tends to call him… pet names. In French.

It’s not that he minds, no, of course not. It’s just, well.. Let’s just say his pet names of choice can be rather bizzare sometimes. Not that Tony minds. He loves being called cute and romantic things, and if you tell anyone that you’ll be in trouble.

-- ♡ --

Today, Steve is making breakfast (again), the scent of freshly-made pancakes filling their Brooklyn apartment. A glass of milk and a mug of steaming coffee sit on the counter separating the kitchen and the living room, beside a bowl of salad. As usual, Tony goes straight for his heavenly resurrection elixir. As usual, it brings him back to life.

Steve’s chuckle at his single-minded quest for coffee is loud. Tony says as such.

“You’re amusing to watch in the morning. Can you blame me?” comes the reply, muffled beneath the sizzling of eggs.

Tony doesn’t agree, but he ignores Steve in favour of inhaling more coffee.

“Mon coeur, breakfast is served,” Steve calls from the kitchen, before appearing with two plates of sausages and eggs. The endearment sends a spike of warmth through him, involuntary. Steve tends to call him things like that, but only in the privacy of their home, because “those words are for your ears only”, Steve claims. He’s such a sap.

Tony smiles up at Steve, not sleepy any longer, and tugs him in for a kiss over the counter. “Thanks, sunshine,” he murmurs. “Love your breakfasts.”

Steve grins, radiating that innocent boyish charm that so many have fallen for. He smooths back the hair curling over Tony’s forehead with a warm hand, and gives him a quick peck there. “I’m glad you enjoy them. Now eat up before it gets too late. Meeting at ten, remember?”

“Mhm.” Tony glances at the post-it on the smooth black glass beside his arm. “Definitely remember.” He’d completely forgotten. Whoops.

“It’s only eight-forty now, sweetheart. You have plenty of time, stop stressing and eat.”

Tony wasn’t stressing, he swears. He was just thinking about the fastest possible route to his office, the traffic conditions right now, the time it will take to get there, and a multitude of other things that have nothing to do with the thought that he might be late. It’s a very important meeting - the CEO of Parker Industries will be there. And Tony, because the universe loves to mess with him this way, is presenting. God.

He places the egg on top of his salad, and pokes at the yolk of his egg with a fork till the membrane bursts and vivid yellow blossoms over his plate. Then, he mixes it in, white and yolk and all, before piercing a few choice veggies and munching on them.

“Tony, that’s disgusting,” Steve complains, but there isn’t any heat there, just the usual fond prodding.

“I’m not the one who drinks milk straight from the carton,” he shoots back.

“That was one time!”

“Still counted.”

“The carton was almost finished! And anyway, the only person who drinks the milk is me.”

“See? Disgusting. What if I wanted to drink the milk?”

“You never drink milk.”

He tries putting on a stern face, but he also tries to pout at the same time, and when Steve bursts into laughter he does too. The veggies, previously in his mouth, end up back in the bowl, in chewed-up pieces. Oops.

Steve snorts at him. Tony hits him on the shoulder playfully, and scoops up more veggies to eat.

“Oh my god, Tony! You just spat that out!”

“It’s my own saliva!”

“Gross!”

“You’re gross!”

The rest of the morning passes like that, in laughter and jokes and teasing. By the time Tony goes to get ready for work, it’s about a quarter before nine. Perfect. He showers, quickly, gets dressed and heads out, but not before a goodbye kiss from his beloved.

-- ♡ --

His meeting with the CEO of Parker Industries goes swimmingly well. Mr. Peter Parker, a man who looks much too young to be a CEO, seems very impressed by his pitch, despite the fact that half of it was bullshitted the last night. (Disclaimer : Not scientifically proven to recurr. Do not try this at home.) The man even offers him a business card and a flirty ‘text me’, complete with a wink and a hand on the small of his back as they exit the meeting room. Tony accepts the card with a smile, and moves out of arm’s reach as soon as he can. Politely. He does not text Peter.

But it seems like Parker Industries may be a partner to Williams and Co. in the foreseeable future, so Tony agrees to the offer of a free lunch next week. Speaking of lunch, Steve’s packed him something new today.

Both the wonder and ninja twins join him at his corner of exile during lunch. What a miracle. Tony wonders to himself, sarcastically, why.

“Hey, Tony.” Natasha greets him with a rare and dangerous smile. “Can we sit here?”

“No, we came first,” Pietro looks smug.

Tony just wants to see what Steve packed him today. He sighs. “I guess you’ll have to battle in the arena for the five available seats here, then.”

This startles a laugh out of Barton, whose humour is usually as mature as a five-year-old’s. Huh. Either the child has grown, or he’s trying to suck up to Tony. Considering the CEO of one of the most successful companies in the industry just hit on him, publicly, Tony thinks it just might be the latter.

Work politics are really, really annoying.

-- ♡ --

“How was work?”

Steve greeting him at the door after a long day is, in his humble opinion, the best. His face is peppered with kisses before he can even step inside, and he laughs.

“Let me in first, and I’ll tell you all about it. How was your day, pumpkin?”

Lately, Tony has taken to using seasonal food as an endearment. It makes no sense, but he’s sure Steve loves it, if the wide smiles and chuckles he gets are any indication. So far, his favourite is ‘gingerbread man’. It makes Steve laugh, every time.

He toes off his shoes and tucks them into the shoe rack by the door, shrugs off his coat and hangs it up. Steve locks the door and takes his bag, heading in towards the kitchen.

Tony follows, sort of tired, his bones aching a little from the cold. He flops onto the plush sofa, enjoys a chaste kiss from Steve as he passes Tony a bowl of warm soup.

“The meeting went well. I think Parker has a thing for silver foxes.” He snickers between sips of the soup. Mmm, creamy mushroom. Yum.

Steve laughs softly, running a gentle hand through his hair as he passes on the way back into the kitchen. “Mon chou, a silver fox? You’re a tad too old to be one, aren’t you?”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m very young and attractive!” He drinks up a little faster as the soup cools. God, he loves Steve’s creamy mushroom soup. It’s the perfect blend of mushroom, milk, and whatever it is that canned Campbell soup contains. They aren’t rich enough to afford making their own soup recipe; so sue them. And Campbell is great, you can fight him on it.

Belatedly, he realises what Steve’s nickname of the evening is. “Did you just… call me a cabbage?”