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20 | i'll make you a suit

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i'll make you a suit

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"Don't touch that," Tony pointed at a metal, arm-like structure that was laying out on a counter.

Cara sheepishly withdrew her hand from it, and asked, "what is it?"

"A new model. But I don't want you touching it," he repeated, turning his back to grab some tools.

"Yeah, I figured that out on my own, believe it or not," she grumbled, and lifted an eyebrow when he dropped a pile of screwdrivers, a blowtorch, and scrap metal in front of her. "What the hell is this?"

Tony smirked as he clapped his hands together. "Make something," he proposed, "that'll show us if you're a really talented...welder, or something."

Cara frowned. "You don't think I can do this." It wasn't a question, and she was a little hurt by her friend.

"No," he denied, "I never said that. But I don't think I need an assistant, don't you agree? I mean, I'm doing pretty well on my own."

"Yeah," she replied glumly, "that's what Steve said." Then she lifted her head defiantly, staring him in the eye. "You just watch, I'll blow you out of the water, I'll make something incredible. I can totally do this."

-

"I can totally not do this!" Cara cried out in frustration, dropping the screwdriver on the workspace in front of her. While she had failed to impress Tony, he'd just sat there, chewing a handful of chips. In a span of fifteen minutes, the teen had gone from completely confident and bold to weary and doubtful. She'd already cut her finger on a sharp edge of the scrap metal, drawing blood. Tony had reprimanded her after getting a bandaid.

After that incident, she'd made sure the blowtorch was at least twenty feet away from her, in case she bumped into it and set the whole tower alight.

"Yeah, I don't think it was the best idea to bring you in here," Tony raised an eyebrow, examining the mess she'd made. "At least you didn't touch any of my other stuff."

Cara nodded hastily. "So I guess I'm not a genius like you, am I?" She looked down at her feet glumly.

"No."

She sighed. She'd already tried to be like Steve, and that hadn't worked. She'd denied working with Thor, and now she had failed with Tony, so that only left three people left. Bruce, Clint, and Natasha.

"Alright, sorry if I messed anything up," she waved to the pile of wasted scrap metal. "I'll just go now," she turned to walk out of her friend's lab.

"Hold on," he called her back. "That's only half of it. Maybe you'd do really well inside the suit instead of making it." His grin was ever widening, an idea obviously having taken over his mind.

"Uh--"

"Just as long as you don't touch anything else," he warned her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Please," she smirked, "I don't have it on my bucket list." Then she grimaced. "And, I mean, thanks for the offer, but I don't think I'll be good at that, either. I mean, I'm not too keen on flying, remember?"

Tony stopped, made a face, and nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." He grinned. "I'll still make you a suit, though."

Cara raised a hand. "Uh, no thanks. I'm good."

Sighing, she retreated out of the room and went back upstairs to find Steve, her newfound confidant.

-

"I don't know what to do," she complained to him while he held her in his arms. She'd pulled him inside her room, promptly ignoring the wolf whistles she heard from Clint. Steve had looked at her distraught features once and pulled her into his protective embrace, gently stroking her hair. "I can't come close to being like you, and Tony's genius vibes made me look and feel like an idiot. There's no way I'm going to fit in here's." She lifted her head and smiled sadly. "Maybe Fury was right. Maybe I should just leave. I've got no business being here, anyway."

Steve shook his head firmly. "That's not true," he disagreed. "You'll find your niche. It doesn't have to be the exact same as one of us, that's what'll make you special. Who knows, maybe you're, I don't know, a really good cook."

Cara cocked an eyebrow.

"What?" He shrugged. "We need to be able to come home and have some good food."

She rolled her eyes. "But that would make me seem like a house wife. I don't want to be that, I want to help out in a good way."

"Cooking is helping," he insisted, "have you tasted Clint's lasagna? It tastes like garbage. And don't get me started on Nat's homemade pizza. She says it's healthy, but I highly doubt it's even edible." He scowled at the thought of it, making Cara smile.

"You know, one time I burnt popcorn in the microwave," she said, "so I don't think cooking is my forte." She leaned up to kiss the tip of Steve's nose affectionately. "But good try."

He sighed. His hands shifted up from the small of her back around her to hips. "Look," he said, "I want you to feel like you belong here, I really do. And don't take this as me trying to talk you out of this--"

She glared at him in warning.

"--but you fit in just fine here. Like I said, your jokes and sarcasm are enough to keep us on our toes. You're like the glue that'll keep us together, Cara. You haven't been here for long, only a couple of days, but it shows already." He kissed her softly, capturing her lips with his. "You belong here."

She smiled into the kiss. "You're sweet," she complimented him, rubbing her thumb against his cheek. Then she pulled away, a sudden thought having occurred to her. "Oh my god," she grinned, "I know who I'll try next."

He peered down at her. "Who?"

She smiled fondly, thinking about a day in her past. "Once in the eighth grade, I got a ninety-seven percent on a science test. Maybe that's my special talent. Science!" She hugged his tall frame briefly before setting off for her destination. "Bruce's lab, here I come!" She said adventurously.

Steve smiled after her in amusement.