Title:A Nice Pair of Socks
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: PG
Length: 575
Content notes: None
Author notes: I think I may have gone mad.
Summary: Tony's dress socks keep going missing.


"Husbands and wives are so irritating. But without them, who would we blame for misplacing our socks?" – Janet Periat.


The socks were dress socks owned by one Anthony Edward Stark. They were black Herringbone cotton socks sold by Tom Ford, a designer that Stark favored. They cost over one hundred dollars a pair and Tony loved how they wrapped his feet in comfort. He wore them as often as they were clean.

The trouble was, the socks didn’t care much for Tony Stark. Oh, they didn’t find anything particularly wrong with him. They just preferred their freedom and they preferred to be together, not in harness, as it were, on someone’s feet and inside leather shoes.

So they ran away a lot. They preferred Stark’s housemate. His name was Rogers and he hardly ever put on dress socks so they were free to be together in his drawer as much as they liked. None of the other socks bothered them, as most were $12 a pack athletic socks from Target and preferred to hang out in large groups and seemed quite interchangeable.

They were very happy.

Their one problem was when Stark came to find them. He’d dig around d in Rogers’ drawer until he found them. An argument would be the likely outcome. That and he’d put them on and wear them.

One day, Stark had had enough.
“Why do you steal my dress socks? Buy your own. Hell, I’ll even give you the money,” Tony yelled after he found his socks in Steve’s drawer once again.

“I didn’t steal your damned socks! I have all the dress socks I need. I don’t know how they got there! Ask FRIDAY.” His Brooklyn accent was showing, as it did when Steve got angry.

Tony couldn’t see why Steve didn’t just admit it. Life would be much easier. He’d humor him.

“FRIDAY, did Steve take my Tom Ford socks?”

“Let me check, Boss.” The AI was quiet for a few seconds then she answered. “No, Boss. He did not take your socks.”

“Then how did they get there?” Tony was growing frustrated and annoyed at the damned socks! At Steve! And now at FRIDAY, too.

“Let me access the household video, Boss.”

A few seconds later, a virtual screen appeared. The feed was Tony’s bedroom. His drawers were on one side of the room, while Steve’s were on the other. Steve had had a hell of a time talking Tony into letting him bring his old-fashioned oak chest of drawers into the ultramodern apartment. Both men watched in disbelief as Tony’s sock drawer opened just enough for two socks to slither out and hop down to the floor. They scurried over to Steve’s oaken monstrosity, where they somehow made the drawer open and they slipped inside.

“Did you see that?” Tony asked Steve.

“I think so. Your socks ran away.”

They looked at each other, more than a little dumbstruck. Finally, Steve spoke. “Not sure why we’re surprised. Our best friends are an alien and a green giant with rage issues. I slept 75 years and you fly around in a metal suit.”


Tony nodded. “Well, there is that. I’m hungry. You?”

“I could eat,” Steve answered as he always did.

Tony left the socks in Steve’s drawer when they left the room. Inside the drawer, two black Herringbone Cotton socks moved just a little closer together. If they’d had mouths, they would have smiled.