Let it be universally known that Tony Stark is a man with a plan.

Officially, that is.

Unofficially? Well, it's more like part of a plan. It's mostly a plan. Okay, it's the thought of a plan, but really it's the thought that counts so that's enough. Who needs a plan when you're a billionaire, genius, playboy - sorry, ex-playboy - philanthropist? Plans are for the weak. 

Tony Stark doesn't need plans.

He needs help.

Which is how he found himself here. Sitting in the living area at the Avengers facility in upstate New York. It's a funny story, really, because it's not like he meant for this to happen, but - unfortunately - God sometimes has other plans for our lives.

Ha. Plans.

"I should probably stop referring to myself in the third person," Tony mumbles to himself, trying to sort through the mess in front of him. It started as a simple plan - okay, an idea - because a certain someone's birthday is coming up, and Tony thought it would be the perfect time for a party.

I mean, why not? It's not like the Avengers have been busy fighting battles all over the world, right? They're just average people with average lives and not-so-average jobs. 

Plus, everyone likes a party. Except probably Natasha Romanoff, but it's her birthday so Tony's overruling her. She'll get over it. Hopefully.

The doorbell rings, and Clint Barton sticks his head into the room as he walks past. 

"You want me to get that?"

Tony shakes his head, "Nah, I got it." 

He drops the heavy book he'd been studying and jogging out of the room toward the delivery entrance. Standing on the other side of the clear glass door is a young woman with brown hair, holding a round cardboard tube in one hand, and she smiles sheepishly at the Avenger. 

"Hey, uh, is that for me?" Tony asks, swinging the door open.

The young woman lifts an eyebrow, "Are you Tony Stark?"

"You tell me," he jokes. "Yeah, I'm Tony Stark. Last I checked, I dunno."

She looks both amused and nervous before holding out a device for him, "I just need your signature then, Mr. Stark."

"So you're a fan then?" He takes the device and signs on the screen then gives it back to her.

"Just doing my job, sir," she smiles. 

Tony nods then leans to the side to glance around the young woman at the large courier van marked with the logo of a private messenger service on the side of it. The woman watches him curiously, waiting for him to take the package, but Tony stands up straight and runs a hand over his chin.

"Are you busy?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

She blinks twice.

"Of course you're busy, you're working," Tony waves his hand in the air. "It's just, I need some help, and I think you might be the perfect person to do it. How much do you get paid?"

"Um..." she hesitates. "Sixteen an hour?"

Tony whistles, "Part-time or full?"

"Part-time. I'm still in school."

He nods, "So, how about this. You text your boss and let him know you're running a little late, and I'll pay your tuition for the rest of your college education. Maybe even throw in a check for thirty grand so you can afford rent without having to work as a delivery driver, let you focus on studying. How does that sound?"

"Are you...you..." she stutters, shaking her head. 

Tony reaches forward and snags her elbow, guiding the stunned young woman inside the building and letting the glass door shut behind them. He leads her into the living area, careful to avoid any doorframes or corners since she's clearly in shock, before stopping in the kitchen and letting her drop into one of the barstools lining the island. 

"Wait," the young woman says suddenly, snapping out of her daze. "You don't wanna...we're not...I'm not...I mean," her eyes are wide as she points between the two of them. "Because that's not going to happen."

"God, no! What are you like fifteen?"

She looks relieved, "Okay, um...I guess I'm just a little confused then."

"What's your name?"

"Cherry."

He smirks, "Like the fruit?"

She nods, and Tony picks up the heavy book he'd left on the kitchen counter and holds it up in the air. He waves it slightly before tossing it on the bar in front of her, and she laughs as she reads the title.

"Baking for Dummies?"

He shrugs, "Yeah, well, it's my friend's birthday in two days, so I thought I'd start practicing now. I figured it's like chemistry, right? Follow the instructions and boom, done. I, um...apparently I was wrong."

"It can't be that bad, right?"

Tony lifts an eyebrow, "My dear, I pride myself on being good at many things both in and out of the bedroom. I can tell you in all honesty that this is not one of them."

He goes to the fridge, propping the door open with his shoulder while grabbing something, before using his foot to kick it closed. Turning around, Cherry slaps a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh as Tony brings his attempted cake over to sit on the counter in front of her.

"Tell me, is that 'not that bad'?"

The young woman's shoulders shake slightly as she laughs, and she bites her bottom lip before nodding, "It's pretty bad."

Tony groans, "It's pretty damn bad!" 

She laughs, "So why are you trying to bake a cake yourself? I mean, you're Tony Stark. You just told me you would pay off my college tuition. I'm pretty sure you can afford a cake."

"Cherry," Tony sighs. "May I call you Cherry?"

"Sure."

"Cherry," he feigns seriousness. "There comes a point in a man's life when he needs to one-up his friends. You wouldn't know this, being a woman and a complete stranger, but our very own Captain America tried to cook Thanksgiving dinner last year and failed miserably. Which, being a good friend, I mocked him mercilessly for it." 

She snorts, "Obviously."

"Obviously. Good, I'm glad you get it."

"I di--"

Tony waves her off, "Not now, not now. But since then, Grandpa Rogers has been talking a big game about the whole situation, claiming that I couldn't do any better, and so here we are. I have zero desire to stick my hand up a dead turkey, so I figured I'd do one better." 

"And bake a cake."

He nods, "Yes."

"For..."

"Nat. Natasha."

Cherry laughs, "Why don't you just buy one and say you made it?"

"Because, I--" Tony hesitates, his mouth hanging open for a moment, before he turns to look at her with a smirk. "I honestly didn't think of that. Cherry, my dear, you're a genius. You definitely earned that college tuition."

"Glad I could help, Mr. Stark," she replies, pushing herself off the chair with the package in her hand. "But - regardless of whether or not I can quit my job - I need to get back in order to do that."

"Right."

He follows her to the door, and she opens it before whirling around suddenly and hands him the cylindrical package.

"What's this?" Tony asks.

"The...package? The one I was delivering? I almost forgot."

"Oh, well," he starts peeling off the tape on one end while talking to her. "Thanks for your help. Send me an email. Tony at Captain America Sucks dot com, I'll send you the check."

The second his thumb breaks the seal of the cylinder holding it shut, the end pops off the tube as the pressure holding the massive spring inside releases, and a cascade of pink glitter explodes in Tony's face. It covers both him and the delivery girl in a split second, and Tony sighs as he turns his head to the right to spit out a mouthful of glitter. A familiar voice starts cackling behind them, and Tony shakes his head - sending pink glitter cascading everywhere - as the archer presses the button to stop recording video on his phone.

"Goddammit, Clint. This is the third time."

Clint shrugs, "Doesn't get old."

Join me in wishing a very happy birthday to deducetheworld!

(And yes, according to the MCU, Natasha's birthday is November 22nd.)

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