110 Breakfast Meeting

In what now felt like a lifetime ago, Harry had opened the doors of his quiet little café tucked away in a modest corner of Los Angeles. Back then, it had been where he found his peace after moving from England to the United States. Where he found joy in the small things like a deliciously cooked meal, a child’s smile as she got her ice-cream serving, the laughter of friends over a cup of coffee while he watched behind the counter at the joyous atmosphere that he had created.

But those days had long since faded into memory.

Now, with Harry living full-time at Avengers Tower, it had become nearly impossible for him to visit, let alone work a shift behind the counter. Still, the café continued under Felicia. The café still bore the warmth of what Harry had built. It still served coffee the same way. Still baked the same cinnamon rolls from his recipe. There was always a slice of treacle tart on display. Still played the same jazz vinyls in the morning. And yet, it had evolved.

What once was a neighbourhood coffee shop had become something of a holy site for fans of the Avengers. The windows were now covered with hand-painted murals, one of the Battle of New York, another of the Avengers standing in the Quinjet. People travelled from across the country, even from overseas, just to sit where Captain America once had a sandwich, or to snap photos in front of the signed wall menu where Thor had written “Try the scones.” People came out to try the cheeseburgers that Tony had claimed a million times on his social media that they were his favourite. 

For many, it was the closest they could ever get to the lives of their heroes; in a way no tower or helicarrier could ever be.

Stepping through the door, Harry paused as his eyes were immediately drawn to the west wall of the café that housed a towering mural that dominated the space like a shrine to modern mythology.

The Hulk stood at the centre, a green colossus frozen mid-roar, his fists clenched and eyes blazing with fury. Behind him, Hawkeye and Black Widow stood back-to-back, weapons drawn, scanning in opposite directions like battlefield sentinels. War Machine and Iron Man flanked the sides of the composition, their armors gleaming in brilliant red and chrome, repulsors glowing like stars.

In front of the hulk stood Captain America, shield raised with defiance, the soft brushstrokes around him almost evoking movement; as if the painter had captured the exact second before he’d charge into battle. To his left, Thor raised Mjolnir to the skies, lightning crackling in brilliant blue arcs across the canvas. And on the opposite side, there was Harry himself, wand in one hand, sword in the other, his robes swept in an invisible wind.

The mural had been painted by fans over several months under Felicia’s supervision. She had sent him photos, excited messages, even a few time-lapse videos of the work in progress. But seeing it in person? It stole his breath.

His gaze drifted to the glass display cases tucked beneath the mural, and a wry smile tugged at his lips.

There, nestled in soft velvet or mounted on custom stands, were relics from the Tower. Things that had no business being here.

One of Tony’s old arc reactors, dim now but still iconic, sat in a rotating stand like a museum centrepiece. A shredded button-down shirt that Bruce had probably lost during a Hulk transformation was folded and pressed inside a case, tagged “Collateral Damage.” Steve’s worn military dog tags gleamed under the overhead lights, scratched and battered, their weight felt even behind glass.

Next to them, a crude wooden toy that Harry immediately recognised as Asgardian craftsmanship. It looked like a miniature flying goat, likely stolen from Thor’s quarters. A trio of arrowheads lay beside it, engraved with Clint’s initials, while a pair of obsidian-handled knives were displayed on a plaque that read simply: Property of the Widow. Please do not touch unless you enjoy hospital food.

He’d always known Felicia had a problem. That mischievous glint in her eye never truly left. A part of her would always be that nimble-fingered thief with a heart too big for her own good. It didn’t help that Natasha encouraged Felicia’s hobby and taught her skills that Natasha had learnt as a spy. And Harry had long accepted that. There was no changing her, and frankly… he didn’t want to.

Harry smiled to himself as he took in the sight of the lovingly curated chaos. This café might still bear the name Lily as a tribute to his mother, but Felicia had turned it into something else entirely.

However, looking at the things that she had ‘borrowed’, He was proud of her work. Because Felicia had made this place her own. She’d turned it into something vibrant and alive. It might be the first authentic Avengers-themed café on the planet. Not some corporate-branded knockoff or opportunistic cash grab, but a real place; built by someone who cared and who believed in what they were doing.

Harry shook his head with a fond smile, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. One lazy wave of his hand and the entire café seemed to wake from its slumber.

Chairs floated into the air, pirouetting on their legs before neatly tucking themselves under the tables. Dust rags soared from behind the counter like fabric ghosts, wiping down the windows and shelves. The broom swayed upright, gave a slight shiver, as if stretching its bristles, and then swept itself expertly across the wooden floors with long, graceful strokes.

Plates and mugs rattled from behind the counter before floating up in a line and arranging themselves into orderly stacks above the espresso machine. A sponge hopped into the sink and began scrubbing last night’s cups, singing a soft gurgling rhythm as enchanted water danced in time.

As his magic did its thing, Harry stepped into the kitchen to work on breakfast. After checking the fridge and pantry, with a casual snap of his fingers, he levitated a few key ingredients toward the prep station: a bag of everything bagels, a slab of leftover smoked salmon, fresh eggs, mushrooms, a wedge of cheese, baby spinach, tomatoes, and cream cheese. A loaf of sourdough, sensing it wouldn’t be needed, politely floated back into the breadbox.

Harry set to work as a chopping knife began to dice mushrooms, onions, and garlic on its own, rhythmically clinking against the board while he adjusted the heat on the stove. The ingredients sautéed in a pan, stirring themselves with a wooden spoon that spun slow circles. As steam rose from the pan, the scent of the developing duxelle filled the room with earthy and rich fragrance.

With a satisfied nod, he turned his attention to the bagel sandwiches. The bagels toasted themselves mid-air, hovering above the open toaster and popping down like synchronised divers. A small silver knife, enchanted to stay just cool enough not to melt the cream cheese, floated beside him as Harry sliced thin ribbons of salmon by hand.

The assembly followed in perfect order: a layer of cream cheese on the bottom half of each bagel, followed by glistening curls of smoked salmon, vibrant spinach leaves, juicy tomato slices, a sprinkle of salt, and a teasing drizzle of balsamic vinegar. The top half of each bagel floated gently into place, completing the sandwiches with a soft, satisfying plop.

Next came the omelets. The eggs cracked themselves into a bowl, the shells discarding into the compost bin neatly. A whisk spun to life, whisking the eggs as he added a pinch of salt and a touch of cream. Butter melted in a pan on the stove as though in conversation with the heat, bubbling just enough before the egg mixture slid in smoothly. When the base began to set, Harry spooned the cooled duxelle into the centre, grated a cloud of parmesan over it, and then, using only a tilt of the pan and a flick of his hand, he folded the omelette up like a burrito and floated it onto a warm plate.

By the time the third omelette was nestled perfectly onto its plate, the café kitchen was smelling heavenly. Steam rose in gentle spirals from the food, dancing like wisps of cloud against the morning sun filtering through the windowpanes. Harry slid one plate into the low-heat oven to keep warm and arranged the other two at a table near the café’s front window.

Just as the coffee machine began to rumble softly behind him, the door to the café opened with a soft chime. And in walked Pepper Potts.

She moved with the effortless poise of someone born for the spotlight yet never consumed by it. Her beige designer suit fit her like a tailored second skin. While her signature strawberry-blonde hair was swept up in a clean, no-nonsense bun, and though she carried no security and wore no insignia, the sheer presence of her turned the air electric.

Harry glanced up from behind the counter with a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Pepper’s eyes found him immediately, and her expression bloomed into a smile. She hurriedly took her seat and leaned forward, breathing in the scent of warm bagels, buttery omelettes, and freshly brewed coffee. Her expression softened as she took in the food laid out in front of her.

“A breakfast bagel and French omelette. My favourite,” Pepper said with a contented smile. She took a long sip from her mug and let out a soft, almost theatrical sigh. “God, remember when this used to be part of my daily routine? You, the humble café owner. Me, Tony Stark’s glorified babysitter-slash-schedule-juggler-slash-public-apology-generator. We’d sit here every morning, watching LA wake up while dissecting Tony’s latest scandal, whether it was a front-page engineering miracle or a TMZ headline involving questionable yachts and more questionable company.”

Harry smirked behind his cup. “You mean back when your boyfriend was a full-time man-whore with a part-time drinking problem, and you were working twenty-hour days for the privilege of getting yelled at for scheduling his meetings before brunch?”

Pepper rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

Harry leaned forward, grin widening. “And let’s not forget how you emotionally blackmailed your only friend—me—into cooking for you every morning because the only thing more tragic than your social life was your culinary skill. I mean, you once set fire to a microwave trying to reheat soup.”

Pepper shot him a sharp look over the rim of her coffee cup. “Be rude, go on,” she said coolly, biting into her bagel with theatrical grace. “See if I pick up next time you call me at two in the morning asking for help dismantling a multi-billion-dollar corporation.”

Harry raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No more jabs about your tragic pre-Iron Man era or your culinary crimes. Truce.”

Pepper gave a satisfied nod and reached into her handbag, pulling out a thick stack of documents clipped neatly together. She slid them across the table toward him. “Then do your part and sign these. The acquisition can be finalised after your signature. I’ll have the papers stamped and filed by this afternoon. By the end of the week, Hammer Industries will be officially absorbed under Stark Industries.”

Harry reached for the papers, conjured a fountain pen and started signing without so much as a glance at the bold letter, let alone the fine print.

Pepper blinked. “You’re not even going to skim it?”

Harry looked up between signatures and gave her a small shrug. “You already did, didn’t you?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Of course I did. Twice. And had legal do a third pass.”

“Then I don’t need to read it,” Harry replied simply. “I trust you.”

That gave Pepper pause. She studied him for a moment, her expression softening despite herself. “You know, most people would call that reckless.”

Harry smiled as he handed her the signed papers. “Most people aren’t you.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow as she tucked the folder back into her bag. “What if I had made you sign over your entire fortune just now?”

Harry didn’t even blink. “Let’s be real. You’re about to marry a billionaire, and you are the CEO of a billion-dollar company.”

“But what if it’s not enough?” Pepper asked, leaning in with a faux-conspiratorial whisper.

Harry barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “You're out here running multinational boardrooms before lunch. My fortunes are peanuts compared to what you have access to.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips as they returned to their breakfast.

“So… have we routed out all the Hydra agents and sympathisers from the company?” Harry asked as he changed the conversation to something more serious.

Pepper sighed, setting her glass down. “We laid off the entire workforce with a one-year severance package.”

Harry blinked. “All of them?”

She nodded. “Everyone. Clean slate.”

“A bit harsh, don’t you think?” he replied, frowning. “Not all of them were guilty.”

“No, but we had no way to tell which ones were,” Pepper explained. “Hammer Industries was a mess, Harry. Hydra buried itself so deep that even before Justin Hammer was arrested, they practically owned the place. Half the systems were ghost-operated. Some divisions didn’t even file payroll properly.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Still feels like a hammer to crack an egg.”

“I get it,” Pepper said, her voice softening. “But we weren’t ready. You pushed the acquisition through before we had a proper integration plan. If we had waited and done it methodically, we might’ve kept more people. But we didn’t, so I made the best call I could.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just stared out the window for a few seconds before asking, “And what happens to all of them now?”

“JARVIS is tracking them. We’ll monitor where they go, who they talk to, and whether they resurface in the defence sector. If we find trustworthy talent, we’ll offer them a place when the new structure is ready.”

Harry nodded slowly. “And what will Hammer become?”

Pepper leaned back, folding her arms. “Something better. We don’t need a weapons division. We’ve got research assets, logistics networks, fabrication labs. I’m thinking we convert Hammer into the robotics branch. Like you said, their research on robotics is something that we can build on.”

“You could’ve figured that out before letting everyone go,” Harry pushed.

Pepper didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, well, someone pushed the acquisition to be completed in under a month. And our management team, accountants, and legal departments were pulling all-nighters to meet that same someone’s very aggressive deadline.”

Harry winced. “Alright, fair,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I may have been… overly ambitious.”

Pepper leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Harry, I get that you want to save people. But we didn’t have the time, or the information, to do surgical cuts. We couldn’t afford to take chances, not when we don’t even know who all the players were.”

Harry sighed, conceding the point with a slow nod.

Pepper softened. “You did what you had to. So did I.”

He glanced at her, then down at the cooling coffee in his hands. “Thank you,” he said quietly, sincerely.

“You’re welcome,” she said dryly. “But next time you decide to pull off a billion-dollar corporate coup, I want at least a 3-month notice. Not a week. Not a weekend. 3 months.”

Harry opened his mouth, but she raised a hand and kept going.

“I’ve got a senate hearing next week, Harry. Insider trading, antitrust concerns, corporate monopolisation, pick your poison. Our lobbyists are doing their best, but even they can’t clean up a mess when they’re blindsided like this.”

She leaned back in her chair, letting her words sink in.

“The world already sees the Avengers as unchecked power wrapped in hero branding. And they see Stark Industries as the piggy bank that funds the whole thing. And if we keep making power plays like this, the narrative changes. Fast.”

Harry’s expression grew more sombre as he listened. He wasn’t naïve; he’d heard the whisperings. Talk shows, conspiracy boards, and extremist news channels weaveing stories of gods and soldiers acting above the law. Some called them saviours. Others called them time bombs.

Pepper’s voice dropped. “You’re winning battles, Harry. But the war for public perception? That one’s just getting started. Don’t give them reasons to fear you.”

He nodded slowly, the weight of her words settling in.

“You either die a hero,” Pepper added, “or live long enough to become the villain.”

Harry exhaled and gave her a rueful smile. “Being CEO of Stark Industries has made you into a pessimist.”

“Maybe,” Pepper replied, picking up her coffee again. “Or maybe I’ve just seen this movie before.”

Harry and Pepper’s conversation, though, had to be cut short by the jingle of the front door, followed immediately by the clatter of a gym bag and a metallic thunk of a water bottle hitting the floor.

Then came the squeal.

A high-pitched, delighted shriek that made both Harry and Pepper wince.

“HARRY!”

Before he could so much as turn around, Harry found himself wrapped in a hug. Felicia Hardy threw her arms around him in a crushing hug. “I didn’t know you were coming today!” she practically sang, stepping back only slightly to look at him, her hands still gripping his shoulders. “You should’ve called! I would’ve had breakfast ready, maybe not as fancy as this, but still!”

She gave Pepper a sheepish wave. “Hi Pepper.” Felicia greeted her daily patron.

Harry shook his head with a soft smile. “I had a breakfast date with Pepper. Some Stark Industries paperwork to go over. We decided to do it here instead of the office. It’s been a while since I last stopped by after all.”

Felicia’s eyes lit up even more. “I’m so glad you did! The place missed you. I mean, I kept everything running, obviously, but the vibe isn’t the same without the boss man dropping in with his warm, welcoming smile. The regulars that knew you before the whole Avengers thing keep asking if you are doing well and if you are safe or not.”

She glanced over Harry’s shoulder and then around the café. “Where’s Nat?” she asked, craning her neck toward the back kitchen as if the redhead might magically pop out with a tray of coffee.

“Sadly, Natasha’s busy and couldn’t make it today,” Harry replied with a small shake of his head.

Felicia groaned dramatically. “Ugh, of course she is off being mysterious and deadly somewhere. I really needed to talk wedding business with her. I mean, as one of the bridesmaids, it’s basically my job to organise the whole thing.”

She slipped into the seat next to Harry and Pepper. “Plus, Laura won’t be able to do much due to the pregnancy. No way we’re letting her stress about anything until little Miss Natasha Barton is born.”

Harry, trying not to smile too much, waved his hand to call for Felicia’s breakfast plate.. From the kitchen, a floating breakfast plate glided into view and gently landed in front of her. Felicia let out a delighted squeal and immediately picked up her fork.

“MVP move,” she mumbled with her mouth half full of omelette. “Okay, so, I’ve been brainstorming. I’ve got so many ideas. Like, we don’t even need to hire a decorator with you around, Harry. You can just wand-wave everything into perfection. But imagine this balloon arch? Or no, better: a rose arch. Like enchanted roses that never wilt and float slightly in the air.”

Harry raised a brow, but Felicia was already on a roll.

“We set the stage with soft lighting, nothing too harsh, I’m thinking magical fairy glow vibes and maybe a spell that plays a different memory of the two of you on each table, so it’s interactive? No? Too much? Also! For color themes, I’m torn between enchanted forest or moody royal velvet.”

She paused mid-bite, eyes watering slightly, and suddenly began coughing as a piece of egg went down the wrong way.

“Too much, too fast,” Pepper said dryly, handing her a glass of water as Harry patted her back.

Felicia took a gulp and gave a thumbs-up, voice raspy. “Still worth it.”

Harry chuckled, gently placing a calming hand on Felicia’s shoulder as she dabbed her eyes with a napkin. “Okay, okay breathe. The wedding date isn’t even set yet, and you’re already planning like it’s tomorrow.”

Felicia took a deep breath, cheeks flushed but still grinning. “I know, but come on, you and Nat? It’s going to be the wedding of the decade! We have been waiting for so long for this.”

Across the table, Pepper laughed softly. “You’re going to give the actual bride a heart attack at this rate.”

Harry turned to Pepper with a smirk. “Speaking of, you brought the documents I asked for?”

Without missing a beat, Pepper pulled a slim folder from her handbag and handed it over. “Right here. Already reviewed and formatted.”

 “What’s this?” Felicia asked as her eyebrows furrowed while she flipped through the folder Pepper had just handed her.

“It’s a partnership contract,” Harry said casually, sipping his coffee.

“For the café?” she blinked. “Why is my name on this? And why is there a spot for me to sign?”

“Because you’ve earned it,” Harry replied, meeting her stunned gaze. “You’ve been taking care of Lily’s ever since I got whisked off to Asgard. And you didn’t just maintain it you turned it into something new. Something better. Something yours.”

Felicia’s jaw opened and closed, completely lost for words. “But... but I didn’t do this for anything in return—”

“I know,” Harry interrupted gently. “That’s what makes you the right person. This place wouldn’t be what it is today without you. Consider this a reward for a job brilliantly done.”

Felicia looked down at the contract again, her fingers trembling slightly.

“I still own forty-nine percent,” Harry added with a warm smile. “It’ll always be my little haven, but I don’t want you asking my permission every time you want to paint a wall or add a new drink to the menu. This café’s grown beyond me, and you’re the reason why.”

Tears brimmed in Felicia’s eyes, but she blinked them back, her voice soft. “You really mean that?”

“I do,” Harry said sincerely. “You’ve earned it.”

Felicia’s eyes shimmered as the weight of Harry’s words finally sank in. She blinked rapidly, wiped at the corners of her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt, and then—true to form—immediately bounced into high gear.

“Okay… okay, but hear me out,” she said, her voice shaky with emotion but bubbling with excitement. “What if—just what if—we turn Lily’s into a franchise? An official Avengers Café! We could keep it nonprofit; every cent from coffee, bagels, even merch with your faces on it goes toward people who actually need help. Disaster relief, veterans’ support, orphanages, rebuilding war zones… I mean, it could be the spirit of the Avengers.”

She looked between Harry and Pepper, eyes wide with hopeful fire. Seeing their skeptical look, Felicia took in a deep breath and started her pitch on repurposing the café. Harry and Pepper watched amused as Felicia spoke non-stop, only taking breaks to grab a quick bite of her breakfast.