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Chapter Text

Tony Stark was one of the most stubborn men that Steve had ever met. Which, considering the sort of people that he had been exposed to both before and after he'd been frozen, was really saying something. In this case, though, he didn't intend for that to be a compliment.

He crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Iron Man took one last look around the battlefield. Normally this would be right about the time when Iron Man would take off, flying back to Avengers Tower and subsequently bypassing the medical check and debriefing entirely. Not this time. It just so happened that Steve had been close enough during the battle to watch as a lucky shot caught Iron Man unawares, sending him flying head over heels into the side of an office building. Iron Man had recovered quickly, but chances were high he had sustained some kind of trauma.

Steve was tired letting one of his teammates suffer alone, and in a couple of long strides he reached Iron Man's side. There was no immediate reaction to his presence, which led credence to the theory that the man inside the suit was hurt in some way. He reached out and clapped a hand on that red shoulder, the armor strangely warm through the fabric of his gloves. "Good job today, Stark. Now it's time to get checked over by SHIELD."

"Why don't you go and tell me all about it later," Iron Man said.

"I saw that hit you took," Steve said, working hard to keep his frustration from showing. Stark was just too good at noticing those little weak spots and using them to his advantage. If this had even a chance at working, Steve had to stay calm. "I know that the armor gives you some protection, but there's no way you got through that unscathed. Come on, Stark. It will only take a minute and then you can get back to your workshop. I won't even try to make you stay for the debriefing."

"I don't want to."

"It's non-negotiable. I would hate to have to bench you for the next two weeks because I wasn't completely certain you were at full fighting strength." Even as Steve said it, he winced internally: it was a low blow. He might not have been friends with Stark, but how seriously Stark took his status as an Avenger was obvious to anyone who bothered to pay attention. And Steve prided himself on paying attention. If this was what it took to get Stark to take care of himself, so be it.

There was a long pause and Steve had the feeling that it was probably a good thing that the armor didn't have laser eyes that were activated through the force of a glare, or he would have been nothing more than a smoldering pit on the ground. Finally, Iron Man gave a short nod, then jerked himself out from under Steve's hold. He stomped away towards where Coulson was quietly speaking to Clint. Steve watched him go and sighed. It was a pitifully small win because he'd probably just earned himself another step higher on Stark's list of people he hated, but he had reached the point where he legitimately did not know what else to do anymore.

"Be patient," a voice said in his ear, and Steve turned quickly to catch Bruce by the arm. Bruce wobbled and then recovered, shooting him a thankful smile. "Tony has a hard time showing weakness to anyone."

"We all do," Steve pointed out. "But I'm the team's leader. It's my responsibility to take care of everyone." Whether that meant providing Bruce with pants and food as soon as he transformed back from the Hulk, or making sure that Clint and Coulson saw the other was physically unharmed as soon as possible, or helping Natasha find the weapons she had lost during the fight, or consoling Thor when he was on Earth and battle left him homesick, Steve took care of his team. Everyone except for Stark.

Well, that was going to change starting now.

He supported Bruce as they walked back towards the others. Coulson directed them all into the plane that would take them to the helicarrier. Clint must have been feeling fine, because he sat right down in the pilot's seat and didn't even wait for everyone to be seated before they were taking off. Steve put a hand against the wall to stabilize himself and kept an eye on Iron Man during the short trip. The suit may have been a technological wonder, but it annoyed him that he couldn't see Tony's face through the mask.

"Coming in for a landing," Clint called out a few minutes later, skillfully guiding the plane into the depths of the helicarrier. He parked and switched the engine off, then turned to say something to Coulson.

Steve watched as the rest of the Avengers disembarked the plane - all of them except for one. Iron Man didn't move until everyone else was gone. When he went to stand he staggered, and Steve lunged across the plane and caught him by the arm.

"Whoa, careful," Steve said, helping him to straighten. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Because you always have trouble walking? You're not leaving until you get checked out, Stark, so you might as well tell me."

Iron Man sighed so loudly the sound was clearly audible even through the suit's transmitter. In lieu of a response, he detached his helmet from the suit. Steve's eyes widened at the sight of the blood matting Stark's hair. Some of it was even smeared across his face and left cheek. And when he looked at Steve, he couldn't focus: he kept blinking and squinting, his head bobbing.

"Jesus, Stark," Steve hissed, pulling him as gently as possible out of the plane. He enlisted Bruce's help to get the suit off as quickly as possible, and then personally escorted Stark to the infirmary. Natasha, Clint and Coulson were already there - Natasha had taken a bad fall on her right arm, and Clint had a knife wound that needed stitching - but a doctor came over to tend to Stark immediately.

"Please come with me, Mr. Stark, and sit down on the bed so that I can examine you," the doctor said, ushering them both into a separate room.

Stark perched on the edge of the bed and followed the doctor's instructions with unnerving silence. He didn't protest or make excuses or try to make a run for it, just sat with his head slightly bowed as the doctor gently felt his scalp, then parted his hair to get a look at the wound. Only when the doctor shone a light in his eyes did he respond, flinching back with a low sound of pain.

"You have a bad concussion," the doctor announced finally. "And you need a few stitches on the back of your head. Also, I'd like to give you a more thorough examination to make sure you're not hurt anywhere else. I'll go gather the equipment. Please change into one of these robes. Captain, I trust you'll make sure my patient does not disappear."

"Yes sir," Steve said, glancing at the doctor's name tag. Doctor Harding. He waited until the doctor was gone, and then turned to Stark. "I'll turn my back while you get changed."

"Sure you don't want a show?" Stark asked, sneering. In spite of his words, his movements were slow and jerky as he gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Steve bit down on an invitation to help and turned away.

Doctor Harding came back a few minutes later, shooting Steve an impressed look when he saw that Stark was still in the room. It only took about twenty minutes for him to administer the local anesthetic and do the stitches, but by that time Stark was half-asleep. He didn't even complain about wanting to go home; he was out like a light the second Doctor Harding told him he could lay down.

"Remarkable," Doctor Harding said, performing a quick examination of Stark's body. Fortunately there was no other visible damage.

"What?" Steve asked.

"That's the furthest any of us have ever gotten with Tony Stark. I thought for sure he'd be gone by the time I came back. I'd like for him to stay overnight for observation." He was stripping off his gloves as he spoke, moving to dispose of them in the medical waste container. "Not that it matters; he'll be gone before the morning."

"No, he won't. I'll make sure he doesn't."

The doctor raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. "Just let him sleep for now. He'll probably wake up naturally on his own at some point. If he shows any signs of confusion or is slow to wake or anything else that seems abnormal, ring for a nurse. Someone will be in to check on him at some point."

"Thank you," Steve called after him. He glanced back at Stark, then slipped out of the room and ran to take a quick shower and change. Even if all SHIELD had were sweatpants, it was better than staying in his sweaty, bloody uniform. Surprisingly Stark was still there sleeping when he got back.

There was a chair in the corner of the room and Steve took a seat. Coulson and Bruce came in at different times to check on Stark, but other than that he was alone. The medical staff stayed away from the room. Steve amused himself by reading the newspaper on his Starkphone. The sun went down without anyone else interrupting them, and he not been sitting in an uncomfortable hospital chair he might've even been enjoying himself.

Then a quiet sound caught his attention. Steve lifted his head, zeroing in on Stark. The sheets shifted as Stark sat up suddenly, looking around the room in confusion. The room was dark, the overhead lights dim, and Stark's fingers clenched tightly in the sheets.

"Where am I? What happened?"

"Relax. You took a blow to the head during the fight and the doctor thought you should stay in for observation," Steve said.

"But I don't like hospitals," Stark whispered.

"Well, there's no way I'm letting you hide yourself away in the workshop where no one but JARVIS would know if you collapsed."

"But..." Stark trailed off, his chin quivering.

Steve stared at him. Should he be calling for a nurse? He'd never been around Stark when the man had a concussion. Was this normal behavior? It wasn't probable given that this was Stark, but he hated to sound the alarm if nothing was wrong. For one thing, Stark would probably never forgive him.

He got up, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Look, Stark -" That was far as he got.

Tony Stark burst into tears, drawing his knees up to his chest and burying his face in his hands. "I want to go home," he sobbed. "I want Jarvis."

Chapter Text

For at least a minute, Steve just stood there and stared dumbly at Stark. His mind was in overdrive. There was no way this was a trick. No matter who he was pulling one over on, Stark would never allow anyone to see him cry. His eyes darted to the button on the wall beside the door. Pressing it would immediately summon at least one nurse to the room, if not more, and that really would have been the wisest choice considering that this was probably exactly what the doctor meant when he'd talked about strange behavior. No way was this the normal reaction of Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist.

He found himself taking a cautious step closer to Stark instead, his mouth snapping shut when his nose caught a familiar, if pungent, scent. Urine. His feet took over then, carrying him right up to the bed, until he could've put a hand on Stark's shoulder if he wanted to. Sure enough, the blankets around Stark's midsection were soaked. He'd wet himself, and it was now official. Either Steve had lost his mind or something was seriously wrong.

"Stark?" he finally managed to say, his voice coming out as a hoarse croak.

Stark flinched at the sound of his voice and curled in tighter, still sobbing. "I'm s-sorry. I d-didn't m-mean to."

"You..." Again, Steve cast a look over his shoulder at that button. One press and this wouldn't be his problem to deal with anymore.

But he couldn't do that. Not to Stark, not to any Avenger. SHIELD forced all of its employees to sign a standard non-disclosure agreement that was ironclad, but it wouldn't be the first time that a story had mysteriously been leaked to the press. Once the information was out there, it wouldn't matter if the perpetrator was punished. The media would have a field day if they knew that Stark had just wet himself and was now crying about it like a baby. Stark would never be able to show his face around his company again, never mind New York.

No, this was something that Steve had to care of. He'd been fishing for a chance to care for Stark, and here it was. He drew himself up, squaring his shoulders, and spoke in his gentlest voice. "It's okay."

"I'm s-sorry!" Stark repeated, cringing.

"It was an accident," Steve said. "It's okay. You're okay."

Stark shook his head. "I want to go home."

"You can't go home yet. You're hurt. I'm sorry."

"But I don't like it here! I want Jarvis! Why isn't he here?"

JARVIS was a computer, and as far as Steve knew that meant he couldn't physically be anywhere. Unless Stark had made some major breakthroughs in A.I. technology lately, which was unlikely as he hadn't mentioned it, he wasn't talking about the A.I. Steve thought fast. "He had to step out for a few minutes. He asked me to sit here with you. Do you know who I am?"

One watery brown eye peeked up at him in silent scrutiny. That was definitely recognition on Stark's face, much to Steve's relief.

"You're Captain 'Merica."

"That's right, but you can call me Steve," Steve said, pasting on the smile that he used when he was talking to little kids. "And I think that we should get you cleaned up, okay?"

Stark's fingers flexed nervously around the sheets, but he nodded slowly. Steve pried the sopping fabric out of his hands and stepped back to let Stark swing his legs off the bed and stand up. He was prepared for when Stark's knees gave out, instantly stepping forward and catching him with an arm around his waist. At any other time, Stark would've given him a murderous glare accompanied by either an icy demand to let go or some sort of sexual innuendo, depending on how he was feeling. This time, he leaned against Steve, letting Steve support his full weight.

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, but said, "Take your robe off, okay? I'll get some water and a cloth." He only let go when Stark seemed stable enough.

"Okay."

The nice thing about SHIELD was that they hadn't spared any expenses when it came to their infirmary. Each room came equipped with a personal sink. Steve grabbed a shallow pan and filled it with warm water, then dropped to one knee and searched the lower cabinets until he came across some clean cloths. He took a couple, figuring that the staff would never miss them, and picked up the pan. There was no soap, but even a rudimentary cleaning would be better than nothing until Stark could get home and shower.

He turned back around and stopped, nearly dropping the pan. Stark was standing there naked, the soiled robe in a heap at his feat, not even trying to cover up his nudity. Which, when Steve thought about it, was probably the most normal part of this bizarreness. There were so many videos and photographs of Stark online that modesty appeared to be a foreign concept to the man.

"Here," he said, putting the pan down on the floor. He set about stripping the bed, adding, "Clean yourself off. I'll get rid of the sheets." The mattress would've been more of a problem, but it turned out that SHIELD was prepared for that too: there was a thick sheet of plastic between the bottom sheet and the mattress, protecting it from the urine. He stripped it off and carried it over to the sink, letting the rest of the urine run down the drain. Then he washed the plastic sheet off with warm water. It would need to dry, and in the meantime Stark would need new sheets.

Wondering what the chances were that Stark would still be there if he left the room for a minute, Steve turned to him again and frowned when he realized Stark was still just standing there. He was holding a dripping cloth in one hand, but hadn't made any attempts at cleaning himself up. His chin was quivering again, even though he bit his lower lip when he saw Steve watching him.

He looked so vulnerable and lost that Steve's heart melted. "Do you need help?" he found himself asking.

Stark nodded, two big tears rolling down his cheeks. Steve took the cloth from his hand and wrung it out a little, then knelt down. He set the cloth against Stark's hip and began to gently wipe his belly and thighs down. He was fully expecting Stark to stop him before he went any further, but a glance up showed two teary, big brown eyes blinking down at him. Stark didn't say anything.

So, a little more hesitantly now, he dipped the cloth, wrung it out again and then wiped Stark's penis and between his legs and buttocks. Stark remained quiet the whole time, though he started to shiver as the warm water dried on his skin. Steve stood and stripped off the sweatshirt he'd snagged from SHIELD'S locker rooms, leaving him clad in just a t-shirt. He could take the cold a lot better than Stark could.

"Arms up," he said firmly, and Stark obeyed, letting Steve tug the sweatshirt down over his head. He was small enough that the sweatshirt was swimming on him, the sleeves falling over his fingers and the hem hanging to mid-thigh.

"Okay. You sit there and don't move. I'm going to go get you some sheets for your bed, okay?" He pointed to the chair he had been sitting in before Stark woke up and waited until Stark sat down to leave. He dumped the wet bedding in the laundry chute, then jogged to the end of the hall where the fresh linens were kept and picked out a fresh pair of sheets and a blanket. There were even a few more sheets of plastic, and he took one of those just in case Stark had another accident.

It didn't take him long to make the bed up, and then he helped Stark back into the bed. Now that everything was clean and all signs of the accident erased, he was wondering if he should call the doctor. But aside from his childish behavior and the crying, Stark was lucid. He was obeying commands, he could stand on his own free will, and he could respond when he was asked direct questions. That didn't sound like someone who was suffering from brain damage to Steve.

He looked at Stark. "Does your head hurt?"

Stark shrugged, playing with the blanket. "Little. When I move too fast."

"Did you want me to call the nurse? She could give you some medicine."

"Don't need no med'cine," Stark said, wrinkling his nose. His face was still stained with tears, though he was no longer crying. "Daddy says Stark men are made've iron."

That did sound like something Howard would say, though hearing it spoken in a voice that sounded so young made Steve wince. "Well, then why don't you try to go to sleep?"

"I don't wanna sleep. I'm bored. I want to play with Dummy."

Steve looked at him sharply. Dummy had not been around when Stark was a child; Bruce had told him once that Stark had created Dummy when he was a teenager. "Do you... often play with Dummy?"

"No," Stark said, yawning widely. "Can't get... time 'lone... too many people."

There was something here that Steve was missing. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "You want to play with him in private."

"Yeah. 'Cept... I got too much to do." Fresh tears welled up in Stark's eyes.

"Don't cry," Steve said quickly. "It's okay. I won't ask you anymore questions. I know you're not tired, but why don't you lay down anyway?"

"Will you tell me a story?" Stark asked, squirming around until he was more or less laying down.

"A story. Sure." He started talking about the shows he used to perform, because he didn't really know any stories that were suitable for children. And that's what he couldn't help thinking of Stark as. Not that it really mattered: within five minutes, Stark's eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply.

"Out like a light," Steve muttered, amused and a little surprised by the fondness that was welling up inside of him. Stark was certainly a lot easier to tolerate this way, that was for sure. And based on some of the things he'd said, Steve was beginning to wonder whether or not this was such unusual behavior after all. For all the ways in which he was an open book, Stark was an intensely private man. Who really knew what went on behind closed doors?

Who really knew Tony Stark?

Chapter Text

Though Steve was ready for Stark to make a hasty exit as soon as he woke up the next morning, even he couldn't have anticipated just how fast Stark could be. It took less than five minutes for Stark to wake up, look at Steve with an expression that could only be described as sheer mortification, and then make a run for the door. Literally. He didn't stop to put more clothes on, didn't even stop to put shoes on, much less stop to talk to the nurses outside. There was a lot of angry muttering outside as the door to the infirmary slammed shut.

Steve could have stopped him, but years of experience had gone a long way towards teaching him that cornering a frightened, trapped animal was not always the best method. Trying to talk to Stark right now was only going to result in the man lashing out, and Steve had been through enough arguments to know that he wouldn't be able to resist rising to the bait. It was better to let Stark retreat and lick his wounds in private while Steve figured out a better way to approach him.

Even if just thinking about what must have been going through Stark's head at the moment was enough to make him wish he could just gather Stark into a huge hug. Unfortunately that would only mean getting his hand bitten off.

He smoothed things over with the nurses as best he could before making his own way back to the tower. It was pretty quiet when he walked in, although considering that it was only 6am and that they'd done a lot of fighting last night, Steve wasn't surprised. He dropped by the kitchen and made himself a couple of sandwiches, then took the food back to his room with him. Stark had built them all private floors and Steve's had a kitchen, but he still preferred using the communal kitchen. Most of them did, including Stark.

While he ate his meal, he thought about Tony Stark. After the team had formed, and it became obvious that Fury intended for it to be a full-time gig, Steve had researched each of his teammates. He'd found the most information on Stark, unsurprisingly. The media had been a part of Stark's life since before he was born, since the moment that Maria and Howard Stark made the official announcement that Maria was pregnant. Stark had grown up in the limelight and the media had caught every bit of it: from his child genius moments to the crazy teen years to the crazier twenties to the kidnapping that had brought about the Stark that Steve now knew.

But through it all, one thing remained consistent: the public side of himself that Stark chose to show to the world. Even Steve had fallen for it at first, but last night was proof of just how much that cocky, confident bravado was a farce. On the inside, he was apparently nothing more than a scared little kid. And while that might have been enough for most people to cast judgment, Steve couldn't forget the fear and loneliness on Stark's face. It bothered him that any of his teammates could still look that way, because it meant he wasn't doing his job as the leader.

"JARVIS?" Steve said out loud, setting his long empty plate down on the coffee table.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Is Stark okay? Health-wise, I mean."

"I have been monitoring Sir's vitals since he arrived home, Captain. Aside from a headache and mild dehydration, he is no worse for the wear."

"Okay, good." Steve paused for a moment. "Do you know what happened last night in the infirmary?"

"I have no jurisdiction within the SHIELD and have not entered SHIELD's servers in the past thirty-six hours," JARVIS said. "However, based on Sir's appearance when he returned and his ranting over the past two hours, I am capable of making an educated guess."

Steve glanced at the clock in surprise, not having realized that he'd been sitting here lost in thought for so long. He went quiet again, thinking, before he spoke again, wanting to make sure that he didn't say anything to upset the protective A.I. "So... if I were to ask you some questions about Stark and what happened, would you be able to answer me?"

"Sir has made much of the information relating to him private," JARVIS replied. "Unless you possess the proper override code -"

"Which I don't." Steve sighed, rubbing a weary hand over his face. JARVIS was the one thing that knew pretty much everything to know about Stark. If he couldn't answer Steve's questions, or even give him a starting point... He wasn't sure where else to look. "What's Stark saying right now?"

"I am not at liberty to divulge that information. "

Maybe not, but JARVIS's tone of voice made it clear that the A.I. did not approve of what Stark was saying, so Steve could guess. He crossed his arms. "I'm so frustrated," he admitted quietly. "I feel like I finally found a way to get through to him, but I don't know what to do next. He was so... lost. It kills me that he still feels that way and I can't do anything about it. And there's no point in trying to talk to him; I know he'll just pick a fight until I walk away so mad I don't even remember what I wanted to say in the first place."

"That is a specialty of his," JARVIS said wryly. "If I may, Captain..."

"What?"

"You are allowed to make any searches on the internet that you want," JARVIS said delicately. "In fact, Sir has told me on several occasions that if there is something about the future you don't understand, I am to help you learn about it."

"There's stuff on the internet about this kind of thing?" Steve said, straightening up a little.

"Yes. But I feel I must warn you that, should this information be used to harm Sir in any way, you would not emerge unscathed. This is something that Sir has not shared with anyone, not even Miss Potters. It could destroy him and I will not allow that to happen." The room darkened a little, as though to underscore the A.I.'s point.

"I meant what I said, JARVIS," Steve said quietly. "I just want to help him."

"Then I suggest you take out your Starktab."

Steve got up and retrieved his Starktab from his desk. The last time he'd used it was last night before the call came to assemble, and he'd been looking up a recipe for chocolate chip muffins. Already, the screen had changed to reflect a different internet browser than the one he was used to. He watched as an unfamiliar term was typed in: age play infantilism. And then, as he sank back down onto the couch, Steve started to read.

It took him a long time, and the occasional question to JARVIS, before he started to understand.

"This is..." he trailed off, fingers skimming the screen lightly. "This is what Stark does?"

"I am not at liberty to say," JARVIS said, which was essentially a yes, as he would have said no otherwise.

"Right." Steve took a deep breath, lowering his eyes to the Starktab's screen. At least now he knew that Stark's reaction was not due to trauma from the concussion, but because, in a moment of weakness after undue stress, he had slipped into what the internet was calling his 'little headspace'. He had to wonder how this whole thing had started in the first place. What had driven the playboy billionaire to seek comfort in stuff that was meant for babies and toddlers?

He drummed his fingers against the screen. "JARVIS, how often would you say Stark does this?"

JARVIS was silent for a moment, perhaps processing whether he was permitted to answer, before he responded, "Whenever Sir gets a chance, which is not as often as he would like. Since joining the Avengers team full time, he has only become more busy. Between the Avengers, SHIELD and the company, the last time he played, as Sir calls it, was three months ago."

"But he needs it more."

"According to my data, Captain, Sir functions best when he has the opportunity to play at least once a week, if not more. It gives him the opportunity to 'get out of his head'."

It sounded enough like something Stark would have said that Steve had to smile, though it quickly faded. From the sound of it, Stark was getting dangerously overworked and now had no time to indulge in the one thing that could have kept him sane. There was definitely a problem here. Now if Steve could only figure out a potential solution. He set aside his own guilt for not having noticed earlier and thought hard.

Outright approaching Stark was still not an option. But if it was true that it had been three months since Stark had played, then he must have been getting desperate. Chances were last night was not going to be enough. The real question was whether Stark would let himself play again, or whether he would drown himself in alcohol and self-hatred to the point where that part of himself just... died.

Steve couldn't let that happen. Not with the memory of that little boy, dressed only in his sweater, crying and looking up at him with beseeching eyes so fresh in his mind. Eyes that begged for not only protection, but also affection and love. He didn't know the full details of what Stark's childhood had been like. But he did know that he wanted to make that little boy smile, if only in the hopes that it would carry over to Steve's teammate.

Last night was probably the first time anyone else had ever joined Stark while he was playing, and that afforded him an opportunity that Steve was determined not to waste.

"JARVIS, I have a message for Stark," he said. "If I record it, will you play it for him? And make sure that he watches it?"

"I will do my best, Captain."

"Thanks. Just let me... I'll be right back." He walked quickly to the bathroom, needing a moment to himself. This was a big undertaking. Steve wasn't foolish enough not to realize that. What he had read on the internet made it very clear that, unless he wanted to have a little headspace of his own - and he didn't - there was only room for one figure in Stark's life right now. And it was going to require a lot of responsibility, patience, and caring.

He didn't look in the mirror as he washed his hands, not wanting to admit that maybe this wasn't as selfless as he wanted to think it was. That maybe this was what he'd been waiting for. A reason to be here, in this weird new future where he didn't really belong.

When he got back out to the living room, he sat down on the sofa and waited for JARVIS to give the signal. Then he looked straight ahead and said softly, "Stark, what happened in the infirmary is just between us. No one else knows and I intend to keep it that way no matter what happens. I will never tell another soul.

"I understand if you want to let this die. And if that's what you need for us to continue being teammates, that's fine. But it doesn't have to be that way. You deserve to be little. It's not something you have to be ashamed of. I don't judge you for it. I want to help you. I could... be there for you, however you want me, even if it's just to give you a hug when you're feeling little and you need to play. Even if it's just to guard the door and keep people from bothering you, I'll be there."

He paused, licking his lips to moisten them. "I hope that you'll be willing to listen to this. If you ever need me, no matter what time it is or what I'm doing, you can come find me or have JARVIS summon me. I'll come find you, Tony, I swear. I'll be there for you." He gave a curt nod, letting JARVIS know to end the recording.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Chapter Text

For the next two weeks, with the exception of two calls to Assemble that he refused to ignore and a handful of meetings that Pepper literally dragged him to, Tony stayed hidden in his workshop. Ignoring JARVIS's blatant disapproval, the morning he returned home he enacted a complete lockdown to keep everyone else out. Then he called up the extremely long, extremely boring To Do list that Pepper kept referencing whenever she got annoyed and got to work.

The last thing he wanted was time to think about what had happened in the infirmary, not when remembering how stupid he'd acted was enough to make a crushing tightness (one that had nothing to do with the arc reactor) squeeze his chest to the point where he could barely breathe. The easiest way to just not think was to throw himself into the massive To Do list and hope that just maybe, if he ignored Rogers for long enough, the man would forget all about it.

Yeah, and maybe Pepper would quit being CEO tomorrow and open up a taco stand in the middle of Central Park.

Tony blew out an annoyed breath, sitting back on his heels and glaring down at the suit and the wires that kept blurring together. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and blinked rapidly, but it did little to help focus his vision. Okay, so maybe the whole burying himself in work thing wasn't really working out that well. At first it was fine, because he was used to insanely long bouts of work, but not even Tony Stark was capable of going for two weeks without stopping long enough to eat or sleep.

The problem was, every damn time he stopped working for more than five minutes, much less tried to sleep, he kept remembering how gentle and understanding Rogers had been - even though he must have been confused out of his mind. Or how he hadn't asked a ton of questions, like most people would, but had put on a smile and reacted with kind words and touches. Or how there hadn't been a word breathed of the incident since.

Which basically meant that Tony wasn't sleeping, because who could sleep with that kind of humiliation in their heads? And now his body had apparently reached the point where it was refusing to go any further. His lower back ached fiercely from spending so much time bent down, his eyes burned, he stank because he hadn't showered in a while, and he'd had a pretty persistent headache for the past three days that no amount of Tylenol was strong enough to banish. Humanity sucked.

"I hate this," Tony muttered, throwing the wrench in his hand across the room. It hit the opposite wall with a satisfying clang that scared the nearby Butterfingers into a tizzy, earning him a few alarmed beeps before the robot calmed and went to investigate the source of the noise.

"Sir, if I may -"

"No you may not," Tony said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to alleviate the pressure of his headache. "I already told you, J, I don't want to hear it."

JARVIS said nothing, but his frustration was practically audible regardless. The A.I. had been trying to show Tony a recording of or a message from Rogers since he'd initiated the lockdown. Knowing Rogers, the message was probably very diplomatic and might not even mention the words 'therapy' or 'pervert'. Somehow, that would almost be worse than whatever it was the man was really thinking. Tony was well aware of exactly how shameful and humiliating his method of coping was. He didn't need to see that reflected in anyone else's eyes, and more than once he had regretted indulging that particular one night stand.

He'd had a lot of one night stands over the past twenty years, but most of them had faded together into a sort of blur. The woman who introduced him to age play, on the other hand, still stood out. Her name was Dee, and at the time she was a gorgeous brunette with the kind of curves that made his fingers itch from the moment he saw her. Her high level of intelligence only helped to seal the deal. The fact that she was into something kinky hadn't stopped him - Tony was never one to kink shame - even though, at first, it had been a little weird.

He could remember sitting on the floor of her bedroom wearing only white underpants and coloring in a book for about ten minutes before she came in. He called her "Mommy" and sucked on her nipples while she rode him gently. Afterwards, they'd cuddle. It was fun and sexy and, during their month long affair, most nights he came more than once. In the end the two of them had gone their separate ways, mostly because she was a dedicated marine biologist and had received a fantastic opportunity in Australia. It hadn't taken him long to realize that, while he missed the sex and, to a lesser degree, her company, what he missed more was the coloring and the cuddling that came afterward.

Some years later, the dirtiest of his secrets still had a hold of him. Tony could ignore it for weeks, sometimes even months, before the urge to just shut his mind off for a bit and be a little kid became too much to take. He had never found a substitute for the cuddling; even with Pepper, it wasn't really the same because he always felt dirty for using her affection to fulfill that need. That was something he had learned to live without, pushing the craving away until it was forgotten.

But coloring in a book with his special edition box of 250 Crayola crayons, or building towers with legos or blocks, or making sculptures from play-doh, or even just pushing his little collection of trucks around the workshop floor - all of the things he'd never had the chance to do when he was an actual little kid soothed him to a degree that not even alcohol could, and he always came back from a play session feeling clear and capable of handling whatever life wanted to throw at him.

This, though. This situation was beyond any nightmare he could've come up with. No one knew about his playing except for JARVIS, not even Rhodey or Pepper. He'd never wanted to have to deal with the expressions on their faces: the pity he could take, because, while he hated it, there had been plenty of that after Afghanistan, but what if this was the final straw that caused them both to throw their hands up? It was too much of a risk. It was just too weird.

Tony was always so careful. He never did played unless he knew he was alone and that he wouldn't be bothered. Needless to say, it had become significantly more difficult to play once the Avengers moved in. Suddenly he had two ex-spies who could move around the building like they were invisible and he never felt like he was really alone. The incident on the helicarrier aside, he had a hard time remembering the last time he'd had a session that wasn't rushed or nervous, with too much anxiety over being caught built up to even be able to enjoy whatever he was doing.

Now there was this added complication to deal with, the haunting knowledge that someone was passing judgment on him, and he couldn't even look at the closet where he kept his little toys without feeling ashamed. And it wasn't the fun sort of shame that came from doing something that would have his father rolling over in the ground, either. It was the sort of shame that resulted in losing the respect of Captain America.

"Guess I'm gonna have to find a new way to shut my brain off," he said under his breath, eyeing the space where his liquor cabinet used to be. Except alcohol didn't really work, not the way he wanted it to, and besides if Pepper found out he was drinking again - and she would, because she was Pepper - she'd give him that disappointed look that never failed to make him feel like a misbehaving kid.

JARVIS sighed. It really shouldn't have been possible for an A.I. to pack that much emotion into a sound. "Sir -"

"Save it," Tony interrupted wearily, unable to force even a little resentment into his voice, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He stood up unsteadily, using the wall as balance when it felt like his legs might give out on him.

"I only wanted to tell you that Agent Barton and Agent Romanov have left for SHIELD. Doctor Banner is still out, and so is Captain Rogers. You are alone in the Tower."

"I am?" He perked up a bit, relishing the thought of a shower. A long, hot shower. He pushed himself off the wall, heading towards the door. The cooler air out in the hall made him shiver as JARVIS opened the elevator doors, and he stepped inside quickly. He didn't register the faint click of a recording until a smooth, familiar voice was being piped into the elevator.

""Stark, what happened in the infirmary is just between us. No one else knows and I intend to keep it that way no matter what happens. I will never tell another soul. I understand if you want to let this die."

"Jesus!" Tony hissed, flinching in surprise and clapping his hands over his ears. He opened his mouth, seriously pissed, but the words continued before he could speak.

"And if that's what you need for us to continue being teammates, that's fine. But it doesn't have to be that way. You deserve to be little. It's not something you have to be ashamed of. I don't judge you for it. I want to help you. I could... be there for you, however you want me, even if it's just to give you a hug when you're feeling little and you need to play. Even if it's just to guard the door and keep people from bothering you, I'll be there. I hope that you'll be willing to listen to this."

Any demand that JARVIS cease playing the recording died on Tony's lips as he listened in growing disbelief. Surely he had to be hearing things. His head swam and he leaned heavily against the wall, needing the support even more now.

"If you ever need me, no matter what time it is or what I'm doing, you can come find me or have JARVIS summon me. I'll come find you, Tony, I swear. I'll be there for you."

The elevator stopped, the doors opening soundlessly. Tony stared at the entrance to his floor, speechless. He should have been furious. JARVIS had played the recording even though Tony had specifically told him not to. In a way, it was Tony's fault for not just deleting the damned thing in the first place. But he hadn't wanted anything to do with it, so he'd opted to ignore it. Now he just felt numb.

"Sir," JARVIS said quietly. "For what it's worth, Captain Rogers was sincere in his request. He did a lot of research and thought for some time before he made the decision to contact you. I believe his offer is something that you should consider."

"His offer?" Tony echoed, torn between the urge to laugh hysterically or sit down on the floor and cry. "There is no offer, J." He meant for the words to come out sounding firm, but instead he just sounded incredibly tired. He stepped out of the elevator, turning towards the bathroom. "I don't need Rogers to pretend that he's okay with coddling me. Fuck, I don't need him pretending anything."

"I don't believe that is his intention. As I said, he was sincere."

"Yeah, well, I don't need it. Any of it," Tony muttered. Suddenly the thought of taking a shower was just too much. He turned instead to his bed, barely making it to the mattress before he collapsed. He dragged himself up to the pillows and curled up into a small ball, deliberately not thinking about Rogers, until he fell a restless sleep.

Chapter Text

For once, the tower was quiet when Steve got home. More from habit than because it was necessary, he took several slow, deep breaths to calm his racing heart as he strode over the refrigerator. There was a bottle of cherry Gatorade on the door that probably belonged to Clint. Steve grabbed it anyway, tipping his back and swallowing half the contents in one long gulp. Technically he didn't need to worry about replenishing his electrolytes after a long run, but the liquid was cold and more refreshing than water would have. Plus, Clint always made a hilarious face when he realized that he'd forgotten to put something on his shelf, thus making it up for grabs by whoever got there first.

He sighed and sat down at the table for a minute, slowly rolling his neck to ease the tension. The quiet was nice, but somewhat alarming. When you lived with two ex-spies, two geniuses, and (sometimes) a god, silence was often the prelude to an explosion. "JARVIS, where is everyone?"

"Agents Barton and Romanov are at Shield," JARVIS replied immediately. "Doctor Banner left without informing anyone as to his whereabouts. And Sir is currently upstairs sleeping."

Steve blinked at that, a little surprised - but also, admittedly, a lot relieved. "You mean he finally left the workshop?"

"That is correct, Captain."

"Christ, I thought I'd have to get the Hulk to break the door down and go in there after him," Steve muttered. "Either that, or sic Pepper on him." He didn't like the thought of invading the workshop without Stark's permission. It was such a private place. And the idea of bringing someone else into this wasn't appealing, either. But he was past the point of chalking it up to just Stark being Stark, the way the others did, and had moved on to genuine concern. He should have seen this kind of reaction, but somehow it blindsided him. Two whole weeks and he hadn't had the chance to talk to Stark once, not even about something innocent. Stark was just too good at avoiding people when he really wanted to.

"Indeed," JARVIS said dryly, interrupting Steve's train of thought. "I may have led him to believe that the tower would be emptier for longer than it was. Initially he emerged with the plan for a shower, but fatigue overtook him. Sir has not slept for more than fifteen hours during the past two weeks, nor has he eaten much. He required the rest."

"And food when he wakes up." Steve played with the bottle in his hands, wondering how best to approach this situation without scaring Stark away again. "Did he at least listen to my message?"

"Yes."

That single word told Steve pretty much everything he needed to know about how, exactly, Stark had taken it. He winced. "I take it that he isn't going to come ask me for a hug anytime soon."

"His exact words were "I don't need Rogers to pretend that he's okay with coddling me. Fuck, I don't need him pretending anything. I don't need it. Any of it." I tried to tell him that you meant well and that your offer was sincere, but -"

"He didn't believe you."

"Regrettably, no."

Steve groaned, tempted to bang his head against the table in frustration. How was it that he started something so complicated with the world's most frustrating person? "I thought he might say that," he admitted. "But I was hoping that he might be more open to it. I wasn't pretending, JARVIS. I really think that this is something that could work." He tried to keep his own frustration out of his voice, but it was hard.

For most of his life, Steve had been the one that people tried to take care of. Because he was small and sickly, everyone had tried to protect him even though he hadn't really needed the help. Now it was different. Most of the people who had known him as that sickly child were dead. The future looked to him for protection, and he liked that. It made him feel useful. The fact that Tony felt he couldn't rely on anyone, much less Steve, was as maddening as it was sad.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that he had spent the last two weeks daydreaming about being able to give that scared little kid a huge hug, if only because he spent most of his time feeling like there was a pair of scared brown eyes looking over his shoulder all the time. His sketchbook was filled with dozens of pictures of Tony acting like a little kid, because his imagination was nothing if not plentiful. It was becoming a fixation. He didn't know what he would do if Stark didn't meet him halfway.

"I understand, but Sir's history with parental figures is... complicated."

"That's one word for it." Steve didn't know the full story behind what had happened with Obadiah Stane, but Natasha had given him enough details for him to know that Stane had betrayed Stark in every way possible. And, on her good days when she remembered who Steve was, Peggy had not been shy about telling him exactly what kind of a man Howard Stark had become. The words 'obsessive' and 'neglectful' had featured prominently.

He sat there for a moment, finishing off the rest of his drink in slow, measured sips. This would be a sensitive topic with anyone, but it was a hundred times worse with Stark. Despite that, there had to be some way of getting through to him. "JARVIS, is there anything I can do that would convince him I'm serious?"

JARVIS didn't respond right away. "Sir has difficulty believing in words," the A.I. said carefully. "Actions sometimes speak louder."

Considering that Stark was an expert at talking up the media, and had been stabbed in the back more than once by someone who said one thing and then did the complete opposite, that wasn't a surprise. But it did spark an idea. Steve stood up and tossed his empty bottle in the recycling bin. He left the kitchen and took the elevator up to his private floor. Once the doors opened, he headed straight for the little room off his bedroom that was crammed with every art supply a man could dream of, including a stack of sketch books. Some were filled, most were still empty, and the one Steve wanted was the one he'd been using the most recently.

He picked the book up from where it was lying on his desk. He didn't bother trying to hide them now, because he had enough trust in the rest of his team to know that even if they came into his quarters, they wouldn't go through it without his permission. He thumbed through the pages slowly. Some people would've called him a pervert if they'd seen the contents of the book. It was possible that Stark would come to the same conclusion. Giving him this book was a definite risk, if only because it meant that things could become even more awkward between him and Stark than they already were.

But Steve didn't know any other way to convince Stark that his offer was genuine, that he really did want to help - and not just because it would mean seeing the famous Tony Stark at his most vulnerable. Even if the pictures in the book were mostly of Stark, it was offering up a lot of insight into Steve's own mind because Stark was definitely smart enough to draw the right conclusions. And Steve wasn't as comfortable with that as he would've liked to have pretended that he was; since waking up, he'd made a practice out of guarding his thoughts from everyone, from SHIELD psychologists to the media, just to have some peace. This would give Stark an in.

He hesitated for only a few seconds before he went back over to the elevator. "JARVIS, please take me to Stark's floor."

"As you wish, Captain."

The elevator rose smoothly, which meant the unnatural pace of Steve's heart was entirely from nerves. Still, he didn't let himself turn around the way he wanted to. He could think of no other method that would show Stark that he was serious. Of course, there was still a chance that Stark wouldn't accept this, either. And if that happened, Steve would deal with it. But if it had even a little chance of turning Stark away from the self-destructive path he'd been on, then Steve had to try. If nothing else, it might be enough to convince Stark that someone else was okay with it.

The doors opened and Steve stepped out. He'd never been up on Stark's floor before, mostly because Stark himself didn't seem to spend much time up here. If the man wasn't in the communal kitchen draped over the coffeepot like a cat protecting her kittens, he was down in his workshop. The floor was very nice, laid out in similar design to Steve's, but it had a sterile quality to it and it only took Steve a moment to figure out what was wrong: it didn't look like anyone actually lived there. It was too neat. There were next to no personal details, not even a picture on the wall or a dirty dish in the sink. Did Stark actually use the floor for anything other than showering or sleeping?

It was a question Steve had never asked himself before, and he found himself a little uncomfortable with the implication that maybe there was a lot more going on with Stark than he'd bothered realizing. He kept his footsteps light as he crept into the kitchen, opening a cupboard at whim. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to find that it was empty. Not only that, but the layer of dust suggested that it had been some time since there had been any food stored there - if ever.

He frowned, lightly shutting the door and turning towards the bedroom. The door was ajar, suggesting that Stark wasn't expecting visitors. Steve moved until he had a view into the room, though he didn't go near the door. With his superior vision, he could just make out Stark curled up into a little ball on top of the covers. His back was to the door, so it was difficult to tell if he was really sleeping or not. That was the only thing that stopped Steve from going in and draping a blanket over him.

Instead, he gently set his sketchbook on the edge of the island, where he was sure that Stark would see it as soon as he woke up. Then he forced himself to leave before his presence was enough to wake Stark from the rest that he no doubt desperately needed. He gently closed the door behind him, making sure that the latch caught, and then sighed. It was too late to go back in and get the book now; for better or worse, Stark was going to see them. Or at least, Steve hoped that he would.

"JARVIS, please make sure he looks at my sketches," he said, because it would be just Steve's luck that Stark would throw away or burn the book without looking at it.

"I will do what I can," JARVIS said, making no promises, which was something Steve appreciated.

Steve was left feeling restless as he stepped back into the elevator with a request to be taken back to his personal floor. He would have labeled himself a patient man if asked, but this waiting game was hard to tolerate. At the same time, he was far too concerned about scaring Stark away completely to make any rash moves. All he could do was hope that Stark would understand the meaning behind Steve's gift.

Chapter Text

The beginnings of a nightmare woke Tony. He snapped awake with the image of endless space in front of his eyes and stayed frozen for a few seconds, a foul taste in his mouth. Only the soft sound of JARVIS's voice, murmuring the date and time and location and weather, soothed him to the point where he could relax a little bit. He swiped a hand across the back of his forehead and sat up, realizing that it was now dark out. Which wasn't surprising, because according to JARVIS it was almost two in the morning. He had slept for almost ten hours, but he still felt exhausted.

The threat of more nightmares got him moving, sliding off the bed and stumbling into the bathroom where he took a shower that was mostly comprised of him sagging against the wall while hot water pounded against his shoulders. Sometimes, after a really bad dream, he couldn't tolerate water. But with the lingering expanse of space right in front of him every time he closed his eyes, the water felt cleansing. He stood there for long after a regular water heater would've run cold, letting it soak into his skin, until his fingers were wrinkled and he was falling asleep on his feet.

He got out, wrapping a towel around his shoulders, and wandered out into the living room stark naked. Instantly, he could tell that something about the room was different. Most people would've thought Tony too oblivious to pick up on such a subtle change, but this was his space - and no matter how little time he spent here, he could tell the difference at a glance. There was a book sitting on top of the island, a book that had not been there when he went to bed. He approached slowly, examining it with narrowed eyes. As far as he could tell, it was just a sketchbook. And one that had been well used at that, judging by the creases in the top cover.

"JARVIS, who left this here?" he asked.

"Captain Rogers, sir."

"You let Rogers in here?" Tony muttered, though he was more curious than annoyed. Tempting though it was to march downstairs and throw the book back unopened, he couldn't resist opening the cover to the first page. A gasp escaped before he could stop it.

Drawn in charcoal with a steady hand, the picture was one of Tony - but not a Tony Stark that the world at large would have recognized, even though the similarities were spot on. Because the Tony on the page was sitting on a bed and had a blanket fisted between his fingers, and he was looking up with big, sad eyes. He looked very young, and the detail was amazing: from the way that the hospital gown draped off one thin shoulder to the hint of the arc reactor beneath the swaths of material, the figure looked like it was going to come to life.

"What the hell?" Mortification seized him before he could say anything else and he slammed the book down, his hands trembling. What the hell was Rogers playing at? Was this some kind of game, designed to torment him where he was most vulnerable? If so, Tony didn't appreciate it. And he couldn't believe that Rogers would have stooped this low.

He left the book there and retreated to his bedroom, drying off methodically and pulling sweat pants and a tank top on with fingers that still shook. His throat felt tight. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to burn the book or throw it back in Rogers' stupid face. Forget space. Now the image that haunted him was a set of eyes that looked far too vulnerable and childlike for Tony to be comfortable with. If that was really how he'd looked that day, it was a wonder that Rogers was still willing to work with him in the field.

"Sir," JARVIS said quietly to get his attention.

"What?" Tony snapped. "Don't think I'm not mad at you, letting him in here, you should -" He stopped short, eyes trained on the video JARVIS was projecting onto the wall. Silently, Tony watched as Rogers walked into his apartment. It was amazing to see how careful Rogers was when he closed the cupboard door or set the book down, making sure not to make a sound or leave any trace of evidence except for what he wanted to leave. Tony's eyebrows furrowed as Rogers looked into his bedroom, stood there for a moment, and then turned around and left.

What surprised him the most was the expression on Rogers's face. No mocking, no disgust, no amusement. Just something neutral, with an edge of softness, the beginning of something that Tony couldn't identify. His skin itched with discomfort and he found himself looking back at the book, thinking of the careful lines that - in retrospect - might not have been meant as a cruel joke after all. The only way he would know was to look at the rest.

When he was younger, his curiosity had often gotten him in trouble. Time still hadn't taught him that lesson. Tony carefully picked up the book, flipping past the first drawing and to the second one. This one had to have come purely from Rogers's imagination. It depicted the same Tony from before, only this time he was sitting on a blanket and playing with blocks. He was dressed very simply, a t-shirt and shorts, and there was a big smile on his face as he lifted a block with the intention of placing it on top of a short stack.

The third picture: Tony in his workshop, playing a game with Dummy, surrounded by flatter blocks that looked a little like scrabble pieces. Tony was wearing the same shorts and t-shirt, but he was barefoot this time. He was also sucking his thumb. Dummy was in the process of moving a block that had a diamond shape on the front. The poorly hidden smirk on Tony's face suggested that this move was not a wise decision.

The fourth picture: Tony sitting in a high chair with a plate of spaghetti and meatballs in front of him. More of the food had ended up in his hair and on his face and clothes than in his mouth by the looks of it. But he was laughing, fork discarded on the tray and one grubby hand clutching several limp strands of noodles. For the first time, the Tony in the picture seemed to be looking at or interacting with someone that wasn't depicted on the page.

The fifth picture: Tony was lying in an adult-sized crib, wearing what appeared to be Captain America footie pajamas, complete with a flap that could be unfastened to show the buttocks. He was lying flat on his belly, head turned to the side for breathing room, and sucking on a pacifier, one hand wound around a blanket. Even though it was a drawing, the folds of the blanket looked so soft that Tony touched the page before he could stop himself. His hands were shaking again as he turned the page.

His lungs seized up so tightly he felt like he couldn't breathe. The sixth picture involved another person. A very familiar person. Steve Rogers was sitting in a rocking chair, holding Tony exactly the way a mother would hold her baby, feeding him a bottle. It was a still picture, of course, but somehow the movement of the chair had been perfectly captured. Rogers's face was one of contentment, while Tony's eyes were closed as he sucked and one of his hands loosely clasped the front of Rogers's shirt. It was a rough, unfinished sketch, like Rogers had realized midway through what he was drawing and stopped.

Tony couldn't look at anymore. He shut the book for the second time in less than twenty minutes and just stood there for a second, trying to remember how to breathe. It was one thing to draw pictures of Tony. But to include himself in the drawings? That was crossing a line, adding a level of intimacy that made him want to crawl out of his skin. He grabbed the book, holding it with his fingertips as he stalked over to the elevator and barked a demand to be taken to Rogers's floor. He didn't care that it was past 2:00am, this has to be finished now.

Throwing the book into Rogers's face wasn't as satisfying as Tony hoped that it would be, mostly because Rogers - who was wide awake despite the time - didn't react. The book slipped silently to the floor, both of them lowering their heads to watch it fall. It landed face down. Tony quelled the ridiculous urge to bend down and pick it up. He didn't want to see what else Rogers might have drawn. Instead, he pinned the man with a hard glare.

"I don't know what the hell your problem is, but I want this to stop," he gritted out.

"I don't have a problem," Rogers replied, bending down to pick up the book in one graceful movement. "I was hoping that my message to you and my drawings might be enough to make you realize that."

This was seriously pissing Tony off. He couldn't figure out what kind of angle Rogers was trying to play here. "Are you looking for money?"

"What?"

"You want my name on something?" Tony pressed. "You want me to pave the way for something? You break any laws lately, Cap?"

"No!"

Considering that Rogers didn't even jaywalk, Tony believed him. He folded his arms across his chest. "Then it's a sex thing, isn't it? You get off on watching people act like little kids," he challenged. "You want me to get down on my knees and call you Daddy while you -"

"What?" Rogers blurted out, looking genuinely horrified. "Tony, no!"

"Then what is it?" Tony yelled. "You won't drop it like a normal person! Anyone else would accept that two weeks of the silent treatment means that I never want to bring it up again. But you - you keep pushing. You got JARVIS to play me that message, you snuck into my room, you left this on my counter -" He jabbed at the book. "What the hell do you want from me?"

Rogers dropped the book and hugged him.

It was a very strong hug, arms overlapping behind his back and pulling him forward until their chests collided and Tony grunted. Rogers actually picked him up a little, not enough so that his feet left the floor, but enough so that Rogers was definitely supporting the majority of his weight. And then he just stood there, holding Tony, breathing so hard that every exhale shifted the little hairs at the nape of Tony's neck.

At first Tony just froze. The last person who hugged him was Pepper, after he finished a major project on time that boosted the stock in Stark Industries over 300%. But he couldn't ever remember being hugged like this. This was firm and hard and didn't seem inclined to stop anytime soon. Rogers was taller and broader in the shoulders than him; he could feel the strength in those muscles in every spot that their bodies touched. He was surrounded in Steve Rogers.

After the shock wore off, his initial impulse was to jerk away and read Rogers the riot act. Tony wasn't sure what stopped him. Maybe it was incredible feeling of safety that was seeping into his brain, like his body had learnt this lesson ages ago and was now forcing his mind to catch up. Or maybe it was the always present tension finally leaching out of his muscles, leaving him breathless but relaxed.

Or maybe it was just that being hugged felt really fucking good.

"Tony," Rogers said softly, his chin brushing across the top of Tony's head as he spoke. "I'm sorry if I scared you. That wasn't my intention. I meant what I said. I won't tell anyone no matter what happens. I understand what it's like to have a part of you that you don't want to share with anyone else.

"But... but if you wanted to share, I could... I've never done anything like this before. It's definitely not about sex." Tony could practically hear the frown on Rogers's face when he said that. "It's just... All this time we've been teammates and I still don't know anything about you. I know I don't have to be best friends with everyone on the team. I get that. But..."

Rogers trailed off, and suddenly Tony got it. For a genius, he'd been unforgivably slow. But then, plenty of people had accused him of being obliviously selfish in the past. He squirmed around until he could lean back just enough to look at Rogers's face. Surprisingly Rogers met his gaze, the same steady blue eyes that refused to look away. Still calm, still centered, not looking at him any differently even though he now knew about Tony's deepest, most humiliating secret.

"Are you talking about me or you?" Tony asked, the anger and accusation gone from his voice. "Do you... even have anything?"

"No," Rogers said with painful honesty, still looking into Tony's eyes. "But if you'd let me, if you'd give me that chance to prove it to you, I'll be so good to you, sweetheart." He started rubbing his thumb against the small of Tony's back, little, soothing circles.

The endearment sounded so natural rolling off Rogers's tongue. It appealed to something deep inside of Tony that he'd been desperately ignoring for the better part of twenty years. He swallowed hard, wondering when his fingers had curled into the fabric of Rogers's shirt, and gave the only answer he could, even though his mind and body were already screaming yes. "I'll think about it."

Chapter Text

There was a pretty large part of Steve that couldn't believe this was actually going to happen. Maybe he was going to wake up and find out he'd been sleeping any minute, and this was all just a dream. But a surreptitious pinch to his arm did nothing. He worked hard to contain his disbelief, though judging from the skeptical look he was getting, it wasn't working. He cleared his throat and deliberately relaxed his stance, hoping to make Stark more at ease.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Steve asked. "I understand if you need a little longer to get used to the idea."

"No," Stark said shortly, folding his arms across his chest. It was the afternoon of the night after he'd confronted Steve about the sketchbook, and they were standing in the middle of the workshop with firm instructions to JARVIS that no one was to get past the lockdown Stark had initiated. Not even Pepper.

Steve cocked his head when nothing else was said but shrugged. If Stark wanted to give this a try, he certainly wasn't going to dissuade the man. If anything, he was still a little shocked that JARVIS had summoned him down here so quickly. He'd been fully expecting that Stark would return to ignoring him for at least the next three or four days, if not for the rest of their lives. "Okay. Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"I don't know if this is going to work. I've never really aged down around anyone before. If I say the word 'Edwin', you have to back off and leave the room immediately. No matter what's happening. That's my safe word and I expect you take it seriously. JARVIS will be monitoring us at all times and he knows what to do if I say that word and the person with me doesn't listen." Stark's eyes narrowed and he pressed his arms a little more tightly against himself, so that he was almost hugging himself. "You won't like the consequences."

"Alright," Steve said calmly. That was reasonable enough, though he immediately wanted to know why, exactly, Stark felt the need to explain that. Had someone tried to take advantage of Stark at some point in the past? Could he give Steve the names of these people and then look the other way?

Stark scrutinized him for a moment and then nodded, apparently willing to believe him. "Like I said, I've never done this before. So don't touch me or my things unless I say that you can. I might not even want you in the room. In fact, it's probably best that you leave the room and then come back in ten minutes. I can't do this with you staring at me."

"I could turn my back," Steve offered.

"I'll still know you're here."

It was only because Stark looked so uncomfortable that Steve obeyed, though he didn't like the thought of leaving Stark alone. Slowly, he turned and left the room. He didn't go far, leaning against the wall to the workshop and wondering what was going on inside. How did Stark age himself down? Did he have to do something in particular? Or did it just... happen when he let his shields down? He wanted to know, but not badly enough that he was willing to risk this by sneaking a peek. Not to mention JARVIS wouldn't let that happen, anyway.

The ten minute wait felt like it lasted for ages, but he used the time to try and calm himself down. Steve wasn't sure why he was feeling so nervous. He'd imagined this moment a hundred times during the past few weeks, but now that it was happening the pressure was intense. He just really wanted to do this right. This was the first time Stark was really reaching out to anyone about this, but more importantly it was the first time he was trying to connect to anyone on the team. If Steve screwed this up, he'd never forgive himself - and worse, Stark would probably never reach out to anyone again.

"Just calm down," he muttered to himself, drumming his fingers against his chest. "You've done the research. Of course, this is Tony Stark so he's probably going to throw you a total curveball... but you can do this. He needs you. We can make this work. He needs you. We can make this work."

He kept repeating those words to himself as JARVIS let the door open, a silent indicator that the ten minute time limit was up. Steve pushed himself off the wall and stepped inside the workshop. He spotted Stark right away. The man was sitting on the cold floor of the workshop with several yellow containers surrounding him. He was holding one of the containers in his hands, though he wasn't doing anything with it, and the tension in his body strongly suggested that he knew Steve was standing right behind him.

The fact that Stark was so nervous made something in Steve suddenly relax. He wasn't the vulnerable one here. This was about Stark, not him, and if he couldn't be calm and collected, then he shouldn't be here because Stark didn't need that. He slowed his pace, making sure that he didn't approach Stark from the back but from the side, where his approach would be easily visible. Clint and Natasha seemed to think it was a fun game to see how many times in a day they could startle Stark, but something told Steve that wouldn't be a very good idea right now.

He cleared his throat and spoke quietly. "Hi."

There was a long pause, so long that he half expected Stark to come out with his safe word, but finally a soft voice said, "Hi."

"I'm Steve," Steve said, figuring that it would be best if they acted like they didn't know each other. That way, there would be a lot less pressure - and he wasn't sure he could do this if Stark kept calling him 'Rogers'. "What's your name?"

Stark didn't answer right away. He looked up at Steve from under bangs that were just a bit too long, giving him something to hide under if he tipped his head down low enough. His eyes were dark brown, fringed with surprisingly long lashes, and studied Steve with such wariness that it hurt. Steve made himself smile and crouched down so that they would be on the same level. Adult Stark might not have cared that there was a difference in size between them, but he had the feeling that he looked pretty big and probably really intimidating to a little kid.

"I'm Tony," came the whisper almost instantly, proving Steve's theory correct.

"Tony," Steve repeated. "That's a nice name. Is it short for anything?"

Stark - no, Tony. He wasn't Stark when he looked so little and fragile, with none of the shields that kept Stark going - nodded. "My mama calls me Antonio. She's the only one who does that. She says my real name is Anthony, but she likes Antonio better."

"Antonio. I like that name, too. What do you like the best?"

Tony shrugged, dropping his gaze to the yellow container he was holding. Now that Steve was closer, he saw that the container had a bright blue top. As he watched, Tony pried the top off and revealed what looked like blue putty or modeling clay inside. He pulled it out and started squishing it with his fingers. It looked like fun.

"Do you mind?" Steve asked, pointing to one of the containers. When Tony shook his head, he picked up a container with a green top. Play-Doh, the caption proclaimed. He shook the contents out into his hands. It was softer and more malleable than he'd expected. Definitely more suited to a child's hands than the tougher clay he'd worked with on the rare occasion he had tried sculpting.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as Tony started rolling the Play-Doh between his hands. The dye was turning his palms and fingers pale blue, but Tony didn't seem to mind and Steve pretended not to notice. He set his green Play-Doh down on the ground and started to roughly sculpt a little dog, acting like he'd forgotten that Tony was even there. He made a rough oval for the body and four longer ovals for legs, with four little blobs for paws. There wasn't enough left over for the head, so he opened a container of orange Play-Doh and used that to make a circle for the head and two tiny pancakes for ears.

"What do you think?" He didn't look up, despite the curious eyes he sensed watching him, but hoped that Tony would answer him. It took a couple of minutes, but eventually -

"You forgot a tail."

Steve blinked, looking down at the little dog in surprise, and then chuckled. He made one more adjustment to the right back paw and then sat back. "You're right. You know, I bet a blue tail would look pretty good. Would you make me one?"

The movement of those hands, hands Steve had watched create the most fantastic of machines, immediately froze. Tony looked a little panicked. "I don't - I can't - I -"

"Hey," Steve said, smiling at him to hide the flicker of concern at how anxious Tony was. "It's okay. It doesn't have to be perfect. Can I see?" He held out a hand for some blue Play-Doh. Tony slowly pinched off a little piece and held it out to him.

Instead of taking it, though, Steve gently took Tony's hands. He felt the way Tony jumped at the contact, but he didn't try to pull away. He remained tense but let Steve hold his hands, watching as Steve guided his fingers in shaping a little dog tail. Then Steve let go of one hand to pick up the little dog, setting it down in Tony's lap, and showed him how to firmly press the end of the rail against what would pass as the dog's rump. It took a moment before it stuck.

"You gotta be careful," he told Tony. "It'll take a while to dry. And I'm not sure it will stick together. I could make you something better out of modeling clay that will last longer."

Tony lifted his head. His hands wrapped gently around the little dog, holding it carefully, not quite crushing it against his chest the way he clearly wanted to. He stared at Steve with something suspiciously close to awe. "Really? But... but you're Captain America."

"Yeah, I am," Steve said, a little surprised. "What difference does that make?"

"Just..." Tony squirmed, his cheeks flushing, and looked away again. "You have more important things to do. I'm not very important."

"Tony. Hey, sweetheart, look at me." Steve waited patiently, wanting to reach out and tip Tony's chin up, but fearing that Tony might interpret a hand moving towards him in the wrong way. There was something wrong here, but Tony was hardly going to confide in him right away and Steve didn't want to let his imagination go wild. It was already too tempting to try and figure out a way to go back in time to confront Howard Stark.

Slowly, moving like he was hoping Steve might forget about him if he waited long enough, Tony's brown eyes peeked back at him.

"You are very important to me," Steve said gently, startled by how much he really meant it. "Sometimes there will be times when I might have to go away for a little while, or leave even though I don't want to. But I will always come back here to be with you, okay? Honestly, there's nowhere else I would rather be."

That too, was the truth. Sitting here with this little boy, playing with Play-Doh, was the most relaxed Steve had been in months. He hadn't thought about what he'd lost or how lonely the future was since he'd sat down with Tony.

"Really?" Tony said, sounding skeptical.

"Really." He dared to breach the distance between them, taking Tony's hand again and giving it a light squeeze. Tony glanced down at their hands and didn't move, didn't even breathe, for about a minute. Then all of a sudden he set the little dog down and launched himself across the mat into Steve's arms.

Chapter Text

Tony was nervous at first. It had been a really long time since anyone had played with him, and every word his father had said about Captain America was playing on a constant loop through his mind. Captain America was good, his dad had said, and just, and he was everything that was right about the world. He was nothing like Tony.

Hearing that his dad thought Captain America would think that Tony was a big disappointment was something that had haunted him for years, much as he hated to admit it. As he sat there on his blanket and toyed with a container of Play-Doh, he couldn't help remembering their first meeting when they were both big, and how all of that had been confirmed.

But Steve - and like this, he was Steve - was... fun. He didn't think it was weird when Tony wouldn't look at him, and he moved very slowly so that Tony could always see what he was doing. And his hands were really warm and strong, but he was careful.

Tony didn't mean to throw himself at Steve. It just happened. One moment he was sitting on his own side of the blanket, and the next his body was moving of its own accord and he was throwing his arms around Steve's neck and hugging him so tightly that it made his chest hurt. But he didn't care; that didn't matter, because Steve was so big that he felt very safe.

Then Steve froze, and Tony realized what he was doing. There was a disorienting second where he was nearly yanked out of his headspace, his adult self scrabbling in horror, but then Steve's arms came up and gently wrapped around his body. He hugged Tony like Tony was something delicate. Not fragile, but like the little dog they'd made together: something that deserved to be protected. Tony melted instantly into the hug, letting his head sink down onto Steve's shoulder. He remembered his mommy holding him like this while she sang songs in his ear, but that was so long ago the sound of her voice was long gone.

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered, even though he couldn't bring himself to move away.

"What for?"

Tony didn't anything for what felt like a really long time. But he wasn't sure what to say. His dad had always told him that kids were meant to be quiet and kept aside unless they actually managed to do something worthwhile. Needless to say, physical affection had never been high up on the list of important things to do. Jarvis used to hug him, sometimes, and Aunt Peggy when she was around, and his mommy when he was really little before she started taking the blue pills that made her smile funny. His dad would've been really mad if Tony hugged someone like this, but Steve didn't seem mad.

Just in case, Tony moved back a little and looked up at Steve, trying to see if he was angry. He didn't look like he was. Tony licked his lips. "My dad says it's rude to touch people. He says that personal space is really important, and that I'm a bad boy when I do it without permission."

Steve's eyebrows shot up. "That's not true, Tony."

"It isn't?"

"No. You can always hug your friends. Though, I don't think it's a good idea if you go up to a stranger and hug them. They could hurt you, or try to take you away."

"I know," Tony said, nodding. "And when that happens, I'm s'posed to not say or do anything they want. Even if they don't give me food or hit me on the head until it hurts so bad I can't stay awake."

"That's -" Steve paused, his hands tightening just a little on Tony's shoulders. "Has that happened to you before?"

"Yup."

Steve stared at him. "When?"

"Lots of times," Tony said, starting to lose interest in the conversation. He picked up the remainder of the orange Play-Doh Steve had been playing with and rolled it between his fingers, giggling when it turned the smears of blue on his hands a really weird color.

"Like when?" Steve prompted again, his voice patient.

"Dunno. My dad says it happens to people who have things other people want. Last time I think Aunt Peggy came to get me. I can't remember. That was when my head hurt really bad." Tony frowned a little. He remembered his dad and Aunt Peggy getting into an awful argument that night. Peggy had been yelling so loud it made his head even worse. She'd come into his room afterwards, though, and kissed him on the head and stroked his hair.

There was a funny look on Steve's face, like he was trying to smile but couldn't. "Well, you don't have to worry about that happening again. I'll make sure it doesn't."

"'Cause you're Captain America."

"And because you're my friend," Steve said, putting his hand on top of Tony's head and playing with his hair. It felt really good. Tony purred and nuzzled into the touch, feeling sleepy. He didn't really want to take a nap. He wanted to keep playing with Steve. But his body was getting heavy, and it was getting hard to keep his eyes open. He blinked heavily, fighting to stay awake.

Steve must have noticed, because he chuckled and kissed the top of Tony's head. "Go to sleep, buddy. It's okay."

"Don wanna," Tony mumbled, yawning.

"Why not?"

"'Cause then we can't play."

"We can play anytime you want, Tony. Whenever I have some free time and you feel like playing."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

Tony wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. Captain America was supposed to keep all the promises he made, but sometimes grown-ups didn't, and Tony liked playing so much he didn't want to stop. He grumbled, deciding that he would close his eyes for a minute. Just a minute. And then he would make himself get up and keep playing. He wanted to show Steve he collection of action figures. He liked the Captain America one the best, but the Hulk and Hawkeye figures were pretty cool too.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but waking up wasn't nearly as unpleasant as it usually was. Normally he jerked awake from nightmares of either Afghanistan or, more commonly now, space, but this time he woke up a lot more slowly. His head felt a little fuzzy, but he was really warm. He couldn't figure out why until whatever he was sleeping on moved a little, and fingers combed lazily through his hair as a familiar voice said his name.

"Tony? Are you awake?"

"Mmm," Tony mumbled, trying to get his tongue to cooperate. He felt lethargic, like he could easily go back to sleep for another ten hours, on the cusp of his little self and his adult self and not sure which direction he wanted to fall in. When the fingers in his hair stopped he grunted in protest, stubbornly rubbing his head against the fingers until they started again.

"I think I should take you to bed," Steve said softly. "Is that okay?"

"Sleepy," Tony agreed. What he wanted to say was that he was just fine where he was, but words were hard. He whined when the warmth he was leaning against moved, pulling away from him, and didn't even realize how loud he was getting until Steve shushed him and picked him up. Literally. Scooped him right up off the floor and balanced him on a hip just like a toddler, one arm wrapped securely around Tony's waist and a big hand palming his butt.

"Shh, Tony, I'm right here. Come on. I have a surprise for you, okay? I went out and bought it this morning after you gave me back my sketchbook." Steve's hand rubbed soothingly over the back of his neck, thumb tracing his hairline, and then he spoke to JARVIS. "I'd like to go up to my floor, JARVIS. Are any of the other Avengers nearby? I don't want them to see Tony."

"Agent Barton is in the communal living room, Captain, but he is preoccupied with a video game. Doctor Banner is in his lab. Agent Romanov is at Shield. I will advise you if Agent Barton or Doctor Banner decide to approach the elevator."

"Thanks," Steve said, and Tony could hear his voice rumbling through his chest along with the sound of his heartbeat. Both sounds were comforting. He knew he shouldn't be letting Steve carry him like this, even if the ease with which Steve had picked him up was nothing short of envious. Tony weighed about 160lbs, but Steve held him like his weight was nothing. The more childish part of him just wrapped his arms around Steve's neck and held on, trusting that Steve wouldn't let him fall.

Steve carried him out of the workshop, which was a little scary because Tony had never gone outside that safe space when he was feeling so little, and into the elevator. "I hope you like what I got you," Steve was saying as the elevator rose. "I picked it out just for you. If it today hadn't gone okay, I was going to just leave it on your bed and let you do whatever you want with it."

What was it? What would Steve have made a special trip for? Part of him was worried that it might be something meant to mock him, like toys for a baby, but Tony's curiosity was piqued to the point where he couldn't imagine falling back to sleep until he found out. He fought to keep his eyes open as the elevator doors opened and Steve stepped out onto his floor. Steve walked straight over to the living room, where there were a couple of plastic bags on the couch. With one hand, the other still holding Tony, he rummaged around in one of the bags for a moment. Then he straightened up and showed it to Tony.

It was a teddy bear. It was about the size of an adult cat, with the softest-looking blond fur the color of honey. Its eyes were two big blue marbles, and there was a blue ribbon around its neck. Tony stared at the teddy bear, speechless. His instinct was to reach out and grab it and hug it close so that no one could take it away, because he hadn't had a stuffed animal since he was three and his dad took them away because he was getting too old. And he hadn't bought any for himself, even though he could have easily afforded to drop a couple hundred bucks on a dozen. It was one thing to play with Play-Doh, or action figures, or race cars, or spending some time coloring in books. Even grownups did those things sometimes.

But this? This was a different level. No grownups Tony knew of had a stuffed animal. Nobody he knew wet the bed, either. It was like crossing a line he didn't think he would be able to go back over. He whimpered, his hands flexing around Steve's neck, torn between the urge to put a stop to this immediately or reach out and touch that fur.

"Tony," Steve said softly. "If you don't like it, that's okay. If you want, I can keep it for you until you feel more comfortable. I don't want to rush you into anything. I don't really know... what you like. But this was a gift for you, and if even a little part of you wants this, then I want you to have it."

Tony darted a quick look up at Steve's face, trying to see if he was telling the truth. Steve looked back at him steadily, and he didn't look like he was lying. But... "I'm... too old," Tony said, voice cracking. "Dad said..."

"How old are you Tony?"

"Three," Tony mumbled, the answer coming out without any forethought. He'd never really put a number to it before. He stuffed his fingers in mouth, feeling embarrassed.

"Well, I'm over ninety years old and sometimes I wish I had a stuffed animal to sleep with."

Tony frowned skeptically.

Steve smiled at him. "It's true. I've looked for quite a while to find one that matches the one my ma made me when I was a kid, but I haven't found it yet. That's the only reason I don't have one." He brought the bear a little bit closer to Tony, so that its fur brushed against Tony's arm. It was just as soft as Tony had thought it would be, and he wanted it so much that his eyes filled with tears.

Slowly, he reached out his free hand and took the bear by the arm.

Chapter Text

Steve hadn't intended to fall asleep next to Tony. They'd had a good day together, but that seemed like something that was way too intimate. He meant to set Tony down in his bed and then leave the room, but Tony had latched onto his arm so tightly that there was no way to escape without waking him up. The other hand was, of course, clamped around the body of the teddy bear. So Steve had sat on the edge of the bed for a little while, hoping that eventually Tony would roll over and he could leave. It hadn't worked. The last thing he remembered was stroking Tony's hair and occasionally testing the strength of Tony's grip.

It was weird to wake up in the same bed as someone; it wasn't something Steve was used to. He hadn't shared a bed with anyone since he was a kid, when Bucky would crawl in with him on the really cold nights so that they could share body heat. This was different. The bed was more than big enough for the two of them, but he was very aware of Tony's presence in a way that he had never been with Bucky. It was also deliciously warm. Steve basked in the heat for a few minutes. He hated the cold, and although JARVIS kept the tower set a steady temperature all year round, there was just no substitute for a blanket and another body curled up beside him.

A toe nudged him in the side. Once, twice, three times, and then the fourth time was a noticeably harder jab. Steve grumbled, finally cracking his eyes open, a little surprised to see that Tony was still beside him, though he was sitting up now, leaning against the wall, with his legs stretched out in front of him. The teddy bear was on his lap. Steve squinted at it. "What's the matter? Don't you like it?"

Tony huffed a laugh, dropping his back against the wall. "Yeah, I liked it. It's a stuffed animal. Any kid would like it." But he wrapped his hands around the bear's middle, squeezing lightly. "Why did you buy this for me?"

So he wasn't talking to little kid Tony anymore. Steve sat up, rubbing his eyes and hoping that he was awake enough to steer this conversation through whatever troubled waters they were likely headed towards. "I told you. Every little kid deserves to have a stuffed animal of some kind. I didn't know that you -" He paused, realizing that might not be the way to go yet, and backtracked. "I figured you probably had plenty. But I saw it in the store and, I don't know, it was cute." He tweaked the ribbon. The bright blue color was what had initially attracted him to the bear.

"I thought maybe you gave it to me to make fun of me."

"What?" Steve said, looking at him like he was crazy. "Jesus, Tony, no. How could you think I would do something like that?"

"It's nothing against you personally," Tony said defensively, hunching one shoulder. "This isn't exactly normal, okay? It's not like most people go home on the weekend and go gee, I think I'll sit down and suck on a pacifier for a while."

Steve very carefully did not look away from the bear. "Do you have a pacifier?"

"Fuck, no! That's disgusting!" Tony squeaked, and Steve couldn't resist glancing up just in time to see his face turning bright red. Despite what Tony said, though, it was the exact same look he'd worn last night when he was staring at the bear. The look of someone who really wanted something, but thought that they shouldn't have it.

"Because I would be okay with that," Steve added, thinking that he might have a little more shopping to do. If they were really going to do this, he wasn't going to let Tony deny himself anything. There was just no point.

"Well that's great to know, but I don't," Tony snapped, folding his arms across his chest and scowling. It came across as more of a pout. Steve did his best not to smile, but Tony noticed and pouted even harder. "Stop laughing at me."

"Oh Tony, I'm not laughing at you. It's just, it's like you're waiting for me to suddenly think you're a weird person for wanting this. Like you think there's some invisible line you're going to cross that's my breaking point. That's not going to happen. You're not weird. I saw a lot of stuff when I was in the army, okay? People have all kinds of ways of coping." Steve thought back to a few of the more... unusual things he'd stumbled across and shuddered. "Personally I think what you like is pretty tame, and I had fun yesterday. I liked playing with you. I'd like to do it again, if you feel comfortable with it."

Tony looked intrigued. "Wait, what kind of stuff did you see in the army?"

"Nope, no way, I prefer to forget it ever happened," Steve said, shaking his head firmly. "Look, I'm sorry if buying the bear was a step too far. I should've talked to you first before I gave it to you."

"No, it's... it' s fine." Tony dropped his gaze, looking back down at the bear. He rubbed his thumb over one of the ears, and his voice was almost meek when he said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Steve said gently, feeling a rush of affection, tamping down on the urge to pull Tony into a hug. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"You remember everything when you're little, right? You knew who I was?"

"I'm not crazy," Tony said, looking insulted.

"It was just a question."

"Of course I do! I just..." Tony stopped, his mouth tugging down into a frown, and he squinted at Steve like he wasn't sure he wanted to keep talking. He was quiet for about a minute, while Steve waited patiently, and then finally added, "I don't like to think about my adult self while I'm being little. It makes it hard for me to stay in that headspace. It's easier to talk about my parents or whatever... that's your chance to find out whatever you want to know about Howard, by the way... but if I start thinking about Pepper or Bruce or SI or the Avengers then reality crawls back in."

"I'm not going to ask you questions about Howard when you're little, Tony."

"I don't care if you do, Cap. Like I said, it's the only way you'll get a straight answer." Tony shrugged and sighed. "When I'm in that headspace... I don't like thinking about whether or not it's okay for me to be there. It gets really overwhelming. Having you there was kind of keeping me from really getting into it. I just have to... get used to it, that's all."

"I understand," Steve said, realizing that Tony was genuinely struggling to describe it. It was odd to be around him when Tony wasn't buried in a project, massively sleep deprived or shooting off snarky quips. This was an adult Tony with at least some of his barriers down. Odd, but very refreshing. He decided to change the subject a little. "So it's okay if I buy you something else, then?"

Tony looked at him warily. "What are you going to buy? It better not be a pacifier."

"All I'm saying is, I saw some really cool ones when I was looking at the stuffed animals. There was one with Iron Man on it."

"Really? Iron Man?" For a few precious seconds, Tony's eyes lit up. Then he seemed to realize what he was doing and blushed again, throwing his teddy bear in Steve's face.

Steve laughed, letting the bear drop into his arms. "Was everything else okay? Did I do anything you didn't like?"

"No. It was all fine."

So that meant Tony was okay with being carried, then. Steve filed that away. Tony felt like he weighed next to nothing, and carrying him had been easy - but Steve liked it. There was something about picking Tony up and having Tony curl into him so needily that hit hard. He wanted to do it again. He lightly tossed the bear back onto Tony's lap. "I know you don't always have a lot of spare time, but -"

With the kind of timing that was right out of the movies, the alarm to assemble went off. Tony set the bear aside and scrambled off the bed, grinning. "What was that you were saying about spare time, Cap?" he yelled.

"I meant what I said. Anytime you want to play, just let me know," Steve said as the alarm died down, catching Tony's arm. "Even if you just want to sit down and watch a movie for a while, I don't mind."

A faint frown tugged at Tony's mouth, but he nodded slowly. "Sure. Thanks."

Steve nodded and let go, forcing himself to leave the room before he said anything else. He wasn't sure why he wanted to push to know exactly when Tony wanted to play again, but he knew that kind of pressure would only backfire. Tony needed space. Both of them did. But Steve couldn't deny the fact that he felt a lot more clearheaded as he ran to put on his suit and get his shield. The edge of tension that he couldn't get rid of wasn't gone, but it was lighter than it ever had been before.

The other Avengers were ready and waiting when Steve showed up. Coulson briefed them quickly - there were a bunch of ten foot, electronic flying squirrels bombarding Manhattan - and then it was up to Steve to devise a plan. He went for the tried and true, with Iron Man doing air support, with aid from Clint and Hulk, and himself and Natasha on the ground with the rest of SHIELD.

"Don't do anything stupid," Steve said over the comm unit as Iron Man took off, one arm wrapped around Hawkeye.

"Were you talking to Stark, or were the rest of us included in that warning?" Clint asked, then yelped when Iron Man pretended to drop him.

"All of you," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, 'cause I'm just saying -"

"Quit saying and start shooting," said Iron Man, dropping Clint on the edge of the building. He followed up with several repulsor blasts of his own. Steve watched him for a moment. Even though a part of him wanted to protect the man inside the suit, Iron Man was a thing of beauty and Tony was clearly in his element. This wasn't a little boy right now; it was a hero.

"Cap!" Natasha yelled from somewhere to his right.

Steve shook his head, bringing his shield up. "Right behind you!"

Chapter Text

The one good thing about fighting robots was that there was always a way to hack the system. Tony watched with no small amount of smug satisfaction as the battalion of flying squirrels started to malfunction, blue sparks crackling around metal seams as the distinct scent of burning filled the air, before all of a sudden it was raining squirrels. Most of the squirrels self-destructed when they hit the ground, sending smoking circuitry in every direction, but a few remained more or less intact.

"Let's give it up for enemies that never learn," he muttered to himself, flying down towards the ground. As he landed, he nudged one of the mostly intact squirrels with his foot. It emitted a weak chirping sound that quickly turned into a dull squealing before it died entirely, the glowing yellow eyes sputtering out. Tony smirked and flipped the faceplate of the suit up.

SHIELD would probably want to examine the squirrels to see if they could learn anything, but Tony could tell at a glance that this was some seriously shoddy work. It hadn't taken him and JARVIS long to seize control, and then it was the matter of seconds to overwrite the coding - which had been pretty pathetic in the first place, rife with errors and on the edge of malfunctioning on its own. Sometimes it was like villains just didn't put the work into being evil like they used to.

His comm unit crackled, and then Steve's voice came through. "Status?"

"I'm over by Sixth," Natasha replied.

"Finding my way down off a thirty story building, since someone didn't come pick me up."

"Subtly is lost on you, isn't it, Barton?" Tony asked, amused in spite of himself. He pulled the faceplate back down and lifted off, his sensors locking in on Clint easily. He plucked the sulking archer off the roof and wrapped an arm around Clint's waist as he flew towards Natasha. She gracefully accepted the ride to where Steve, Coulson and a small contingent of SHIELD agents were waiting.

"Anyone heard from Bruce?" Steve asked as they flew up.

"Last I saw, Hulk was rampaging his way on the other side of the city," said Clint. "He probably wasn't too happy when all of his playthings suddenly stopped working. Bruce is gonna be exhausted tonight.'

"We'll send someone out to retrieve him," Coulson said, glancing meaningfully at one of the agents. The agent nodded and hurried over to a waiting van that quickly peeled out of the parking lot. Coulson stepped closer to Clint and Natasha, openly looking them up and down to check for damage, though his eyes lingered on Clint in a way that made Tony look hastily away. There were some things he did not want to see. His eyes connected with Steve's, who was watching him.

Tony raised an eyebrow, grateful for the suit that hid his face from view, because he was pretty sure that the heat in his cheeks meant he was a blushing a little. There was a small part of him that had been a little (a lot) worried about how Steve would treat him on the field after they played. He didn't want to do this if it meant that Steve wouldn't be able to disassociate between Tony as an Avenger and Tony as a little kid, and he'd spent the whole time before they assembled worrying about it.

But that hadn't been the case at all. Just the opposite. Steve hadn't acted any differently. He talked to Tony the same way he did everyone else, not hesitating to yell at him for doing something Steve thought was stupid but also not hesitating to trust him even if an idea had the potential to bring their enemy down. He hadn't tried to keep Tony close to him, or insisted that Iron Man sit this one out, or done anything to suggest that they had woken up in the same bed after spending a few hours playing like kids.

It was refreshing, and also a little scary, because it just didn't seem fair that Steve could be so stupidly perfect about this too. Not that Tony really wanted him to freak out, because he'd spent a lot of time over the years beating himself up for what he liked, and hearing it from someone like Captain America would be enough to destroy him in a very embarrassing way. But it also opened up a lot of possibilities for future playing that Tony hadn't really dared to hope for.

The silence had stretched past the point of being a little awkward and was headed straight into uncomfortable. Tony cleared his throat. "I'm just gonna head back, since everything seems to be wrapped up here."

"You should stay for the debriefing," Steve said, just like he always did, mouth tugging down into a disapproving frown. "You were the one who disabled the squirrels in the first place. It's important that you give Director Fury a full report."

"Nothing to report, Cap. JARVIS broke through the pitiful excuse for a firewall and executed a code to make the fuckers crash." Tony shrugged, which wasn't really visible in the suit. It was something he was still working on. "There's nothing I can tell them that SHIELD won't be able to figure out on their own. Though I have my doubts about how much they'll be able to learn. SHEILD's technology sucks when I don't oversee it, but it's still miles ahead of those shitty excuses for weaponry." He nodded at the nearest squirrel.

"Still, Tony -"

Tony didn't wait to hear what other excuses Steve might come up with. He chose to make an escape before the Captain America voice came out, because it was always a lot harder to ignore Steve when he started talking that way. Steve yelled something after him which he deliberately did not listen to, and he switched the comms off before he could get a lecture. No doubt Steve would track him down later, but why face up to it now when he could put it off and hope Steve would forget? He flew back to the tower, landing on the pad outside. His automated system came up and began stripping the armor away, leaving him in just his sweaty under suit.

"J, scan the suit and see if there are any repairs needed," Tony said, slinging himself down on the couch with a weary sigh. The battle had been pretty short compared to some of the other ones they'd faced, but he'd taken a couple of knocks. His left shoulder was throbbed a little from where he'd mistakenly grabbed a squirrel, thinking to slow it down, and nearly had his arm wrenched out of the socket for his trouble.

"Scanning," JARVIS replied.

"And turn on the television, would you? Might as well see what the media's bitching about today."

The room darkened a little as the television screen turned on, revealing a young, attractive woman standing in front of the worst of the destruction. Which honestly wasn't much, just a few buildings and some cars. But there were certain factions of the media that would take any opportunity to cast a bad light on the Avengers. Tony listened with half an ear as he got up to get himself a glass of water. She was describing the battle. He only really started paying attention when the camera moved, panning over to show Captain America, Hawkeye and Black Widow. Coulson was notably missing from the shot, but that wasn't surprising: SHIELD had the tendency to make themselves scarce when the media showed up.

Footage of the three Avengers was brief. Captain America appeared to be searching the wreckage for something and the camera had caught him just as he found it. He stooped down, picking up what Tony immediately recognized as one of Black Widow's favorite knives. He trotted back over to her and presented the knife to her, outstretched on his palm. Black Widow glanced down at the knife and her face softened in a way that was perceptible only to someone who knew her well. She took the knife from him, making it disappear. Then Captain America said something and gestured to one of the unmarked SHIELD vehicles stationed nearby. The three of them moved away from the camera. Just before the image flipped back to the reporter, Captain America put a hand on Black Widow's and Hawkeye's lower backs.

Tony drummed his fingers against the couch thoughtfully. He usually didn't stick around for the aftermath of the battle, preferring to duck out on the debriefing and medical check as often as possible. So he'd never really paid attention to how Steve usually acted after a battle. But now he was noticing that Steve seemed to like doting on the team. He made sure that everyone was in one piece and got pants and food ready for Bruce - even though Steve was probably the one who needed the calories the most - and always tried to get as many of Natasha's weapons and Clint's arrows back as he could.

He'd always been a little bit of a mother hen. Steve was the one who really encouraged movie night, who made sure that they all ate together at least once a week, who wasn't above slinging an Avenger over his shoulder and physically carting them to SHIELD's infirmary if necessary. But this was like seeing it kicked into overdrive.

Maybe it wasn't just about Tony - maybe it was about Steve and a need to care of what he had left, considering that most of what the poor guy knew was long gone. Tony could understand that. Wasn't he guilty of the same thing? God knew he had the tendency to shove money or new creations at people to show his affection or encourage them to stick around. He'd built the Avengers their own floors in the tower, made Pepper the president of his company, given Rhodey a suit.

Steve didn't have that kind of money, and he wasn't capable of building weapons like Tony was, but he could offer something else that they all needed for different reasons: affection. And maybe it did something else for him, too, giving him a solid way to build relationships. It matched up with what Tony had been told about the pre-serum Steve Rogers, a scrappy, scrawny kid who, from the sound of it, had always tried to take care of other people. Except back then he couldn't, because he needed so much taking care of himself.

But then there was Tony, who wasn't used to having anyone who wanted to take care of him, never mind someone who wanted to try, and no wonder Steve was all over this. Tony shook his head and tossed back the rest of his water. He'd finally solved the mystery of Captain America, and it wasn't at all what he would have guessed. Turned out in his heart of hearts, Steve Rogers was just a guy trying to make himself useful.

"Goddamn," he muttered, staring down at the empty glass and wishing it was alcohol. Problem was, none of the Avengers were really open to the kind of caring that Steve seemed to want to give. Except for Tony, because he had spent a lot of time crying quietly to himself when he was little for lack of someone to just sit down and give him a hug and a cuddle.

Apparently he and Steve were a better match than he'd realized.

Chapter Text

It was one of those rare times when Tony was aware that he was dreaming. But it didn't change anything. He still got out of bed, picked up the little set of tools that Jarvis had bought him for his last birthday, and walked towards the door. His body had a mind of its own, following the path to his father's lab even though his actual mind was screaming at him to turn back, or at least stop, because he knew what would happen if he kept going.

The door to the lab loomed over him, impenetrable to anyone that wasn't a Stark, because no matter how many security codes his father set up, Tony always managed to figure out a way past. He started to stretch his hand up to play with the code and the door swung open. Howard looked down at him, glazed eyes wide in surprise. In an instant, anger cleared his expression and his hand swept out.

Tony jerked himself awake before the back of his father's hand made impact with his face. He stared up at the ceiling, panting hard. It had been a long time since he'd had a nightmare about his father. Between what had happened to him in Afghanistan and New York, he had plenty of fodder for new nightmares that left anything Howard had done in the dust. And yet here he was, heart racing so fast his chest hurt, panic making his hands shake.

He rolled over on his side, curling in on himself, and soft fur brushed against the back of his right hand. Impulsively, he grabbed the teddy bear Steve had given him and pulled it into a crushing hug, burying his face. It still held a trace of Steve's cologne, though it was pretty faded by now. Maybe he could come up with some way to get Steve to hold it again for a couple of minutes.

The past couple of weeks had been going so well. He and Steve had actually played together a couple more times. The first time they'd colored for a while, and Steve had delighted him by sketching a picture of Dummy, You and Butterfingers. The second time, they'd watched a movie together in Steve's living room. Tony had fallen asleep and woken up to find his teddy bear in his arms and a warm blanket draped over him.

It was good, but it seemed like playing with Steve was bringing up some old, unpleasant memories that Tony had tried his best to bury. He started to shiver, curling up tighter, and that's when he felt it. The bottom of the bed was unpleasantly wet; the sheet over top of him and the boxers he'd chosen to sleep in were soaked. He'd wet the bed again.

Just a week ago, he'd woken up from a nightmare in the middle of the night to the same thing: a soaked set of sheets and an empty bladder. Mortification had driven him to jump out of bed and quickly tossed his sheets and blankets into the garbage, not wanting the laundry service to wonder, and sprayed his mattress down. As far as he knew, no one was the wiser, and he'd sworn JARVIS to complete secrecy.

Now, a mingled flush of shame and embarrassment hit hard and he bit his lip as tears welled up in his eyes. He hadn't wet the bed in years, not since Howard had decided that was something only little kids did, and now he'd done it three times in six weeks. It was really taking the whole "little kid" thing too far. What the hell was wrong with him? His shoulders shook as he began to cry, muffling his tears in his teddy bear.

He didn't know how long he cried for, but it must have been at least a few minutes because the next thing he knew there was a knock on the door. Tony froze, his whole body going cold from panic. If it was Pepper or Rhodey, they'd know right away what had happened. He'd never be able to hide it from them. He shook harder, torn between scrambling to his feet in an effort to hide the mess and staying right where he was in the hopes that whoever it was wouldn't notice.

"Tony? Are you okay? JARVIS woke me up and said you needed my help. Can I come in?"

It was Steve. Tony stared at the door, speechless. Either Steve took his prolonged silence as an agreement, or JARVIS took matters into his own metaphorical hands, because Steve only waited a few agonizing seconds before he opened the door and stepped into the room. When he reached for the light switch, Tony snapped out of his stupor.

"Please don't," he begged, realizing too late that his voice was hoarse and broken and tiny. It was stupid, because the arc reactor illuminated the room already, but he couldn't bear to have the light on.

Steve dropped his hand. "Okay, baby, I won't," he said gently, switching seamlessly from friend to caretaker, approaching the bed in a couple of long steps. "JARVIS told me you had a bad dream. Is that true?"

More tears welled up in his eyes even though Tony tried to stop them. He sniffed and nodded. If this had been Howard standing in front of him, he would've been told that Starks didn't cry and there was no need for Tony to be acting like such a baby. But Steve just looked down at him with an expression of such sympathy and understanding that Tony found himself crying all over again.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm sorry." The word slipped out before he could stop and he flinched, hiding his face against his bear.

Okay, so maybe once or twice at night, where there was no one to judge him, he'd thought about calling Steve 'Daddy'. It wasn't something he ever actually planned to do, because that was definitely taking things a step too far, and that wasn't a responsibility Tony would ever want to put on anyone. But now he'd gone and done it. He hunched down, expecting Steve to get mad or upset and leave.

He tensed up when a hand touched his head, but all Steve did was brush his sweaty bangs away from his forehead. "You don't need to be sorry, Tony. I'm not mad. All little boys have accidents."

Tony shook his head, because he knew that wasn't true, but Steve didn't give him time to argue. He effortlessly scooped Tony out of the bed and carried him into the bathroom. In no time at all, Tony was stripped of his soiled clothing and sitting in a warm bubble bath. Which was even more surprising, considering that Tony was 100% positive that he did not have bubble bath in the tower, which meant that Steve had gone shopping again.

He sniffled, still crying a little, not sure how to process all of this confusing information that had happened so quickly. Steve didn't press him, just knelt down beside the tub and picked up a washcloth and started to bathe him like they'd been doing this forever. A part of Tony felt like he should be embarrassed, but Steve was so matter-of-fact and gentle. It was more than he could have hoped for and he started to cry again.

Steve shushed him, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "It's okay," he said, and then, "Do you want to tell me what your nightmare was about?"

"No," Tony whispered. He never talked about Howard. Not to anyone, not even Pepper.

"I understand. But you know, if you do want to talk to me, I'll listen. You can tell me anything, Tony."

Tony didn't know what to say to that. He was very tired, and the warm water was making him sleepier. He wanted an excuse not to talk, so he slipped his thumb into his mouth. It had been a long time since he sucked his thumb in front of anyone. His mom had yelled at him about it for as long as he could remember. But Steve didn't slap his hand away. And it felt good, comforting, to have the weight of his thumb on his tongue.

"You're such a good baby. You try so hard and no one even notices," Steve said, sounding a little sad as he let the water drain out of the tub. He got up and grabbed a large, fluffy towel, wrapping it around Tony's shoulders. He picked Tony up again. "How would you like to spend the rest of the night with me?"

That sounded fine to Tony. He nodded, wrapping his legs around Steve's waist. "Bear," he mumbled.

"Your bear? I think it needs to be washed first."

Tony whined around his thumb, kicking his heels in protest, but Steve held firm. He carried Tony out of his suite and to the elevator. JARVIS took them straight to Steve's floor. Steve walked straight into the bedroom, which was a mess. There were blankets on the floor from what was obviously a very hasty departure. Tony wondered what JARVIS had said to make Steve move that fast.

"Wait there for a minute," Steve said, plunking him down on the bed. "I want to show you something."

Steve's bed was pretty comfortable, if Tony said so himself. Pepper had been the one to furnish most of the tower, but Tony had attended to the floors of the Avengers himself. Nothing but the best for his team. Everything was the same quality as what he would buy for himself, and that included the bedding. He flopped over, laying on his side and breathing in the smell of Steve's shampoo.

There was some rustling from Steve's closet and then he came back with a very tell-tale package tucked under his arm. Tony's heart started to race again. He sat up and scooted away, already shaking his head, feeling alternately hot and cold all over: his palms were sweaty but his back was chilled. Steve set the package on the bed and looked at him.

"I know this is something we haven't talked about. I understand if you're not okay with it, or if it's not something that interests you. But I just thought... especially after tonight, it might make you feel more secure. Since we're sleeping in the same bed."

Right up until the last sentence, Tony was firmly in the 'no fucking way' department. Sure it was something he'd thought about a handful of times, but it was even more of a no than slipping up and calling Steve 'Daddy'. But Steve. Steve had an awful point. As mortifying as it would be to wear a diaper to bed, it would be a hundred times - no, a thousand times worse if he wet the bed while Steve was in it.

His face felt hot now, too. He hated the fact that this even had to be an option. Why couldn't he be normal and control himself?

"Tony?"

Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded.

"I need to hear you say okay, Tony."

Damn Steve. "Okay," he whispered, the word probably not audible to anyone without super soldier hearing.

But then Steve smiled at him, and he looked proud and sad at the same time. "Do you want me to help you?"

Tony did want that, he wanted it a lot, but he couldn't let himself have it so he shook his head. "No. Can do it."

"Okay. I'll be right back. Here." He ripped open the package and gave Tony a diaper, then put the rest of the diapers on the floor and left the room.

The diaper was weird. It took a little while for Tony to figure it out. He was still wearing only the towel, which he left around his shoulders as he spread the diaper out and examined it to determine the front from the back. After a little experimenting, he had it. He sat down and pulled the back up, holding it in place with his arm as he yanked the front up too. Then he peeled the plastic back and stuck both sides into place.

It felt weird, too. Constricting. He couldn't close his legs as much as he was used to. There was no way he was going to use it, obviously, but he liked knowing that even if an accident happened he wouldn't pee on Steve. That would be the end of the world, and Tony would have to quit the team and move to Antarctica.

Steve must have been waiting for him to finish, because he came in as soon as Tony was done. He was carrying something behind his back. "I know it's not your teddy bear, but I thought you might like it," he said. "You deserve a reward after such a rough night."

The reward turned out to be a bright purple monkey. It had a long tail that could be curled or straightened and big brown marbles for eyes. Tony looked it over and then pronounced it, "Clint".

Steve burst out laughing. "That's not too far off now that I think about it. He does look a little like a monkey sometimes when he climbs a building."

"Hawk," Tony agreed as he accepted the monkey, because he couldn't call it 'Clint' and not have it be weird. It didn't give as good a hug as his teddy did, but it wasn't bad. He yawned widely. "Thanks, Daddy."

"You're welcome, baby," Steve said, smiling at him. "Now let's go to sleep, okay? It's way past your bedtime."

"Kay," Tony mumbled, eyes already half lidded. He laid back down and Steve stretched out beside him. Having someone beside him was nice; having Steve wrap him up in a hug as he fell asleep, monkey trapped between them, was even better.

Chapter Text

Since he didn't need as much sleep as most people did, Steve was used to waking up early. Most of the time, unless there was something more pressing waiting for his attention, he got up and went for a run before the rest of the team was awake - or as was often the case when it came to Bruce and Tony, before they had stumbled out of their labs in search of coffee and, to a lesser extent, food.

This morning, though, he had no desire whatsoever to get out of bed. He woke up feeling warm and content for the first time in months, his arms securely wrapped another body. Tony had one arm wrapped around the monkey and the other hand was clutching Steve's pajama top, like he thought Steve might leave if he didn't hold on. His head was resting on Steve's shoulder. His mouth was open a little, and a thin stream of drool had trailed across his cheek, dampening the fabric of Steve's pillow.

Steve had to smile at the adorable sight. He shifted a bit, pushing the pillows into a better position, and then settled down to watch Tony sleep. Last night had been a whirlwind. He'd only just fallen asleep when JARVIS woke him up with the information that Tony needed his help. That had been more than enough to get him moving, but then JARVIS had added in that "sir has been crying for over twenty minutes. The increase of his heart rate and blood pressure and his reaction when he awoke suggests he has had a particularly bad nightmare".

And it was true, though Steve still wondered what Tony had dreamt about that had been bad enough to make him wet the bed and reduce him to tears. Though, come to think of it, it was possible the tears had been more about wetting the bed than anything. Tony was a very proud man and that kind of weakness - because that's exactly what Tony would see it as - had to be hard on him. He'd never forget the look on Tony's face when the diapers were brought into the room.

Tony muttered something then, drawing Steve's attention, and squirmed. His head rolled to the other side and a deep furrow appeared between his eyebrows. Not wanting him to wake up so soon, because if anyone would benefit from a few extra hours of sleep it was Tony, Steve shushed him, gently petting his hair. After a minute or so, Tony slowly relaxed and curled back into him.

"There you go," Steve whispered, keeping up the petting in the hopes that it would help Tony to sleep without nightmares. He chewed his bottom lip, a little worried.

He didn't know what it was about Tony Stark that kept pulling him in so deep. But if Steve wasn't careful, this was going to cross a line and go from being something he could do for Tony to something that was for himself, too. Because there were no real words to identify what he'd felt when Tony called him "Daddy" for the first time; at best, he could describe it as a weird mixture of honored, terrified and elation.

Honored because he could hardly believe that Tony would trust him that much.

Terrified because it meant picking up where Howard left off, but breaking the trust of this fragile man would be so, so easy.

Exalted because the name definitely suggested something long term, and here was someone who'd reached out to Steve, who let Steve pick him up, soothe him, bathe him, and then fall asleep next to him. No doubt Tony was thinking of this as some huge sacrifice on Steve's part, but it really wasn't. Not anymore.

It was nice to wake up next to someone he knew and trusted. Steve was no stranger to sharing a bed platonically; he and Bucky had slept together in the same bed all the time, and it was something that he missed. And playing with Tony was fun. There were a lot of toys that Steve had never gotten the chance to play with - even if they'd existed when he was a kid, his mom wouldn't have been able to afford them - and Tony took obvious delight in introducing him to them.

More than that, though, Steve felt like he had a purpose now. Sure he was still heavily invested in saving the world, but it was different when he was with Tony. This was more... personal. More real. Tony was something tangible, and Steve could see the results of his efforts immediately. It was also peaceful in a way that drawing used to be, but that hadn't been enough since he'd woken up in the future. But when he was with Tony, he could focus on Tony. The rest of the world didn't matter. Only Tony and his needs and wants. He didn't have to think about anything else but Tony's beautiful, shy smile.

"You're gonna get me in trouble," he muttered to Tony, brushing a wisp of hair off Tony's forehead. The amount of affection he felt for this man was troubling, and could easily lead down a path that wouldn't turn out well. But at the same time he didn't think he could stop feeling this way even if he tried.

Tony squirmed again restlessly, like he'd heard Steve's words, and his diaper-clad rump brushed against Steve's hand. Steve had never been around little kids, but he had a strong suspicion that Tony had peed in the diaper and needed to be changed. The diaper felt a little squishy when he tapped it with his finger, which cemented his suspicion. Maybe that should have been disgusting or displeasing to him, but it wasn't.

After all, he had dealt with far worse than urine when he was in the war. At least in this case, all it required as taking the soiled diaper off, cleaning Tony up, adding a little powder and cream and putting a new one back on. It might be tricky the first couple of times because he'd never done it before, but after the first few times he'd had to deal with a blown off limb or a bad case of gangrene, his tolerance for anything gross became pretty high.

Besides, he could tell that this was something that Tony needed. The poor little guy had been embarrassed to be sure, but the second the diaper was on and they were lying down, Tony was dead to the world. And considering how Tony had been acting around stuffed animals or the mere mention of a pacifier, maybe diapers were just one more thing that had been taken from him too early.

Steve couldn't know for sure. But he dearly wished that Howard was still alive so he could have found out in person. Fury and Natasha had both alluded to the fact that Tony's relationship with his parents wasn't great, and the research Steve had done on his own seemed to support that theory, but recently he was being faced with more and more evidence that maybe it went so much deeper than anyone else had imagined. If that was the case, Howard deserved a punch in the face and more.

It was really too bad that time travel wasn't possible yet.

He blew out his breath in an aggravated sigh and glanced back down at Tony, startled to realize that there were two half-lidded brown eyes peeking back at him. Steve smiled, charmed by the sight of pink blush that immediately appeared on Tony's cheeks. He was pretty sure that Tony was still little, which was probably a good thing. Maybe the diapers were helping him to feel more secure about staying that way.

"Hey, kiddo," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"M'fine," Tony mumbled, dropping his gaze to his monkey. His blush deepened until he was practically squirming. "I... um..."

"Tony," Steve said, and then he waited until Tony slowly looked back up at him. The expression on Tony's face tugged at his heart. It was like Tony was just waiting to be yelled at or rejected. "I don't mind if you want to call me Daddy. I'm okay with that."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I'm... honored, if you want to know the truth."

Tony looked a little confused by that. "You don't have to... that's way more than -"

"I know I don't have to. I don't have to do anything," Steve replied, purposely cutting him off. He had the feeling he knew what Tony was going to say, and he didn't want to hear it. "If anything happens that I'm not okay with, I'll let you know. But that? That's definitely not one of them. You can call me Steve or you can called me Daddy. Or anything else you come up with. It's all fine."

"Okay," Tony said after a moment, though he didn't seem entirely convinced. Steve was a little bothered by that, but he figured that maybe Tony needed a little bit of time. Last night had been traumatic enough without even factoring in all the things that had happened: the nickname, the bath, the diapers.

Speaking of which, there was probably no point in beating around the bush. "I think you need to be changed," he said bluntly, inwardly wincing when Tony's cute pink blush turned beet red in realization. "Are you okay with me doing it? Or do you want to clean yourself up?"

"You..." Tony trailed off, mouth hanging open, and it wasn't very often Steve got to see the sight of him actually speechless.

"I don't mind," Steve told him. "I have all of the supplies here. JARVIS helped me order them online."

"You prepared for this?" Tony squeaked.

Steve shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. "When I first started researching this online, I realized that people went for all different age groups. I thought you might be a little older, but then after that night you hit your head and we started playing together and we talked about pacifiers... If we're doing this, Tony, I just think we should do it right. If it's something you need, there's no point in only going part of the way. You should get everything you want."

It was back to speechless. Tony's mouth opened and then closed without any words coming out. Steve waited patiently, a part of him hoping that Tony would actually gather the courage together to say yes. Because he was positive that this was something Tony wanted, but it meant Tony opening himself up to being extremely vulnerable. This was so much more intimate than anything either of them were used to.

When the silence dragged on and Tony still didn't say anything, Steve put a smile on. "It's fine if you're not ready for that," he said as gently as possible, smothering the brief pang of disappointment. "I understand. It's a lot to take in. You don't even have to wear them at all, but it might be a good idea for you to start wearing them at night when you feel little."

He never wanted to see Tony that upset again. The memory of his little boy sobbing hysterically would stay with Steve for a long time.

"You can borrow a pair of my boxers for now if you want. The bathroom's right in there. If you need me, just call, okay?" He pressed a kiss to Tony's forehead and then rolled off the bed. Tony sat up and watched him go, still without saying a word.

He left the bedroom door open halfway, just in case Tony called for him, and went into the kitchen. Despite the disappointment, he still felt hopeful that, with time, Tony might become comfortable enough to be as little as he wanted to be. And Steve hadn't been lying to him. He truly did believe that Tony should have whatever he wanted, whether that was diapers and a bottle or just a night cuddling on the couch.

That thought gave him pause. For a moment, he pictured himself and Tony lying on the couch together, sharing a beer and some popcorn. Not age playing together, just two adults spending some time together with the same level of intimacy, albeit a different kind. The pang of wanting that went through was shocking in its intensity.

Where had that come from?

Chapter Text

For a couple minutes after Steve departed, Tony stayed right where he was and just looked around. This was really the first time he'd been in Steve's room since he and Pepper had designed it. He noticed that while Steve had put some effort into decorating, the room still looked quite bare. The most color in the whole place was the bright purple monkey that Steve had given him last night, which stood out against the white sheets.

Tony picked up Hawk and cuddled the toy in his lap. The fur had a different feeling than his teddy. It was a little rougher, not as plush, but with a texture that still felt nice against his fingers when he rubbed its tail. He looked over at Steve's closet, wondering what else was hidden in there, and caught sight of the bag of diapers that was still sitting on the floor. Evidently Steve hadn't bothered to put them away, possibly because he believed they'd be needed again.

The whole mortifying night rushed over him again and Tony moaned quietly into Hawk's fur, hiding his burning face. It was bad enough to be wearing a diaper, but it was even worse to know that he'd actually peed in it. Which meant that if Steve hadn't suggested he wear one, he would've peed in the bed - and possibly on Steve. And no matter how nice Steve was being about this whole thing, there were some limits that not even Steve would be okay with.

He was, too. Being nice. Really nice. Tony opened his eyes, even though all he could see was bright purple fur. Last night was embarrassing. But it also made him feel warm to remember how gentle Steve was. That was the first bath Tony had taken since coming back from Afghanistan; normally the feeling of being submerged in water was just too terrifying. With Steve, the fear had been a distant thought.

"Daddy," he mouthed to himself, tasting how the word felt on his lips, rolling his tongue over the syllables. Howard had always preferred the more formal 'Father' or, as Tony grew older and less inclined to listen, 'Dad'. The same went for Maria, though she was partial to a simple 'Mama'. Maybe when he was really little he had called Howard 'Daddy', but even that was unlikely.

It suggested a level of intimacy and commitment to their age playing that Tony wasn't sure he was comfortable with, though. It was one thing to think of Steve as a playmate. But as a parental figure? That was offering up a lot of control. Not that he really thought Steve would take advantage of it, but still. No matter how often he'd tasted the word at night, he'd never expected to say it out loud where Steve could hear it.

"Young sir, if I may," JARVIS said gently.

Tony lifted his head a bit, looking blurrily at the ceiling. JARVIS always referred to him as 'young sir' when he was playing. "Yeah?"

"My scans tell me that you are at risk of developing a rash on your genitals from extended exposure to urine. I recommend that -"

"I got it," Tony mumbled, embarrassed all over again. He rolled off the bed and took Hawk with him as he went into the bathroom. He fumbled with the straps to the diaper until they came apart and dumped the soiled mess in the garbage. JARVIS was right; the skin along his inner thighs and around his dick and butt was red and sensitive to the touch.

He cleaned himself up as best he could, washed his hands and slunk, naked, back into the bedroom. It was still empty, though he was pretty sure he could smell bacon frying. His tummy grumbled. Tony frowned and walked over to the drawer Steve had pointed out, pointedly not looking at the diapers. He picked out a pair of plain blue boxers and pulled them on. They were loose at the waist, but were better than another diaper.

It was a little chilly in the apartment, so he snagged a sweatshirt out of Steve's closet. It was too big - the cuffs hung over his hands, and it went down to his thighs - but it was soft and smelled like Steve. He hugged Hawk to his chest as he padded barefoot out of the bedroom and down the hall. He found Steve standing at the stove, poking at a sizzling frying pan, and Tony was not at all prepared for the rush of affection that hit him out of nowhere.

Steve glanced over his shoulder, then, caught sight of him, and turned quickly. "Hey kiddo. How are you feeling?"

For all that Tony had been scared it might be really awkward, the sight of Steve's warm smile dispelled that fear and he relaxed a little. "I'm hungry, Daddy," he said softly, eyeing Steve carefully, just in case the reaction to the name would be different now.

"Breakfast is almost ready. Why don't you come sit here at the table with me?"

Tony obeyed, moving closer and sliding into a spot at the table. He grimaced a little as his sensitive skin was pressed against the chair, but covered the discomfort quickly as he looked at the place settings. There were two plates and utensils set out, along with a cup of coffee for Steve and... Tony blinked slowly at the sippy cup, which had a cartoon picture of Iron Man on it. Then he looked at Steve.

"I thought you'd like it," Steve said, clearly trying and failing not to grin.

At least it wasn't a bottle. Tony told himself to be grateful for small miracles. He tucked his monkey under one arm and picked up the cup, putting the spout to his lips. It took him a moment to work out how to use it: he had to suck hard to get the liquid to come, and the first attempt left him sputtering at how quickly it flowed out. It was apple juice, tart and fresh. He licked his lips and frowned.

A little experimentation let him know how hard he was supposed to suck without getting too much. The spout was hard under his lips and, for a split second as he sucked languidly and swallowed, he let himself think about the feel of something softer and more rubbery. It would be more comfortable, at any rate. Then he realized that Steve was watching him with a thoughtful expression and hastily pulled the cup away.

"Food?" he asked, hoping Steve wouldn't get any ideas. Just because he'd sucked his thumb last night, and he didn't mind sucking on the sippy cup, didn't mean he wanted a bottle.

"Coming right up." Steve took the plates and moved back to the stove. The plate he set in front of Tony had some scrambled eggs, bacon, and two pieces of toast. It smelled amazing.

Steve sat down with his own plate, which had considerably more food on it, and reached over to pick up Tony's knife and fork. At first Tony wasn't sure what was going on, but then Steve started to cut up his bacon and make sure the eggs were in small pieces. Which yeah, okay, was understandable. Then he stabbed a piece of bacon with the fork and held it up in front of Tony's mouth.

"What are you doing?" Tony said, tightening his grip on Hawk.

"Feeding you breakfast," Steve replied calmly. "Open up, baby boy."

Tony opened his mouth - to argue, not because he wanted to be fed - and Steve deftly popped the fork in. His lips closed automatically, leaving him with the salty taste of bacon. "Daddy -"

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Tony."

That was cheating. Tony hastily chewed the bacon and swallowed as Steve ate a couple bites of his own breakfast, then used Tony's fork to pick up some eggs and hold them up in front of Tony again. Tony looked at the fork. He looked at Steve. He looked back at the eggs. Very slowly, trying not to think too much, he opened his mouth and let Steve feed him the eggs.

The only thing he was allowed to eat with his own hands was the toast. Steve fed him some more of the eggs and bacon until Tony didn't want any more, then let Tony tear the toast up into small pieces while he finished his own breakfast. Tony dipped some of the toast into the strawberry jam Steve had set out. He ate a little of it, but mostly he just liked how squishy and slimy the toast felt after it was covered in jam.

He giggled to himself, squeezing his right hand into a fist and watching as the bright red jam oozed out around his fingers. Then he repeated the process with his left. It was sticky too, but that was part of the fun. He brought his fingers up to his face and licked the tips clean, humming with pleasure, then stealthily slipped his thumb in his mouth. It was even better when he could lick the strawberry jam off while sucking at the same time.

The clinking of cutlery distracted him, and he glanced up just as Steve stood up and carried both their plates to the sink. He came back with a damp washcloth and grabbed Tony's free hand. "You're a mess."

"Am not," Tony objected around his thumb, belatedly realizing that Steve was right. His hands were covered and so was his face. It was sheer luck that there wasn't any jam on the sweatshirt he had borrowed from Steve.

"Yeah, you are. I used to like doing the same thing when I was a kid," Steve said, voice fond, carefully wiping the jam from Tony's hand. He extracted Tony's other hand from his mouth, ignoring the whine that Tony didn't manage to hold back, and cleaned that one too. Then he wiped Tony's mouth and cheeks off. Tony squirmed as best he could, but Steve's grip was too firm for him to be able to break free.

"Mean," he said with a pout, thumb going right back to his mouth. He gripped Hawk tighter and glared.

"Abject cruelty. Don't know how you put up with me," Steve agreed, tossing the cloth back into the sink. "Do you want to go play while I do the dishes?"

Tony shook his head. The squirming he'd done trying to get away from the cleaning made his bottom hurt again. He slumped down, hoping that the stinging would stop if he stayed really still. Steve looked him over for a moment, frowning, but set about clearing the rest of the table. He wrapped the remainder of the food up and put it in the refrigerator, then washed and dried the dishes instead of using the dishwasher.

When he was finished, Steve held his hands out to Tony. "What do you say we watch a movie together?"

"Teddy?" Tony asked.

"Your teddy? Oh, right. I can throw it in the washer. It won't take long," Steve said, scooping him up. When his arm pressed hard against Tony's bottom, he yelped and Steve froze. "Tony? Did I hurt you? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Tony said, pulling his thumb out and clutching his monkey tighter. He wished now he'd done something about it himself, though he didn't know the first thing about how to handle it, and he wasn't used to something so stupid being such a big deal.

"You cried out."

"S'nothing."

"Tony -"

"M'fine," Tony insisted, embarrassed. The look of concern on Steve's face was getting to him. He might not have understood why Steve cared, but it was hard to ignore the evidence that he did right now. He blushed, hiding his face against Steve's shoulder and mumbling, "JARVIS?"

"Young sir has a mild form of diaper rash," JARVIS helpfully supplied. "It occurs when babies are left in soiled diapers for any length of time."

"Oh, Tony. I'm sorry. I should've woken you up as soon as I noticed," Steve said guilty, shifting his grip to Tony's waist. "JARVIS, what can I do?"

"I will have a courier come to the tower with a cream to help," JARVIS replied. "In the meantime, once the affected area has been cleaned, fresh air will also help to clear up the bacteria."

Tony kicked a leg in silent protest.

"Shh, baby," Steve murmured to him, then raised his voice. "Thanks, JARVIS. Please get the cream here as soon as possible. Tony, is it okay if you lay on the couch and I cover you with a blanket?"

Not really, but now the material of the boxers was chafing against his skin and it hurt. Miserably, Tony nodded and let Steve set him down on the couch. Steve tossed a blanket over him, then expertly pulled the boxers off. The blanket was much softer against his skin than the boxers were, and Tony couldn't help the sigh of relief. It was even better when Steve sat down beside him and carefully pulled Tony into his arms, gently petting his head.

Chapter Text

When JARVIS reported that the package had arrived, Steve went down alone to receive the delivery. He was pleased to see that the cream had arrived in a plain brown box addressed to a “Charlotte Young”, so – thanks to JARVIS, who had ordered the cream under an assumed name - no one would be the wiser as to what its contents were. He signed for the box, handed the electronic signer back to the bored-looking delivery woman, and turned to head back into the tower.

The elevator took him up to the communal floor, where it stopped and Clint got on. He blinked at Steve, then grinned. “Hey Steve. Food delivery?”

“Art supplies,” Steve said, knowing that it was probably the one thing that would cause Clint to lose interest. “Tony told me about a new store that sells great acrylic paints, and I’ve never worked with them before. I thought I’d give them a try.” It wasn’t a complete lie, either. Tony really had told him that, although that had been nearly two months ago and Steve hadn’t been interested.

“Tony told you, huh? So he is still alive. No one’s seen him in almost four days. Bruce was getting ready to head down to the workshop.”

“Still alive and kicking. I went down last night and made him go to bed. He’s probably still passed out,” Steve answered. Which, okay, was a complete lie. But it meant that the Avengers would give Tony’s floor a wide berth for the day. Tony slept so rarely that no one wanted to risk waking him up if he’d actually crashed.

“I’ll let Bruce know, then. Hey, you up for a movie night tonight once Tony wakes up?”

“I’ll see how the day goes. I might get caught up in a new project.” Steve smiled to take any sting out of the rejection, glad when the elevator stopped on his floor. He didn’t like the thought of leaving Tony alone for too long. What was between them was still too fragile and new. “But I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds good, Cap.” Clint tossed him a salute as the elevator doors closed, and Steve shook his head in amusement as he opened his door and stepped inside.

Tony was still right where Steve had left him, lying on the couch and looking at the television. The glazed look in his eyes suggested that he wasn’t really watching the cartoon, though. Steve walked over to him and sat down on the chair, ripping the brown paper off the box. Inside was a small container of diaper rash cream, with a label that proclaimed it would be able to heal diaper rash with forty-eight hours. The faster, the better, as far as Steve was concerned. He unscrewed the top and peeled the seal off. The cream inside was white and smelled a little like chemicals and lavender. He scooped a little bit onto his index finger and curiously rubbed his thumb against it as a test, realizing that a little went a long way.

“Tony?” he said, glancing up. Tony was already watching him, or more specifically, the container. “I need to put some of this cream on you. It will make your bottom feel a lot better.”

“No.”

Steve frowned. It would be hard for Tony to put the cream on by himself, but he had no doubt that Tony would be able to do it if he wanted to. He offered the container. “Okay. I don’t have to do it. You can do it by yourself if that’s what you want.”

“No,” Tony said stubbornly.

“One way or another you have to put the cream on,” Steve said. He stood up and froze when Tony flinched, thin fingers clutching at the blanket. “Tony? Honey, are you scared of me?”

“No,” Tony whispered for a third time, but he didn’t sound nearly as certain this time. “Don’t… don’t want…”

“You don’t want what?”

“Hurt. Don’t want… hurt.” Tony’s voice was barely audible, but it was more than enough to break Steve’s heart in two, because he was positive that Tony wasn’t just talking about how the cream might sting a little when it was put on. He put the lid back on the container and cautiously stepped closer, taking a seat on the coffee table so that he wouldn’t be looming over the little boy.

“I will never hurt you, Tony,” he said firmly, and Tony snorted.

“Will,” he said tiredly, rubbing his nose against the blanket. “Everyone does. Obie…”

At the sound of that name, Steve had to force himself not to react. The file that SHIELD had on Tony was pitifully thin and more than likely rife with inaccuracy – there was a reason that there was a paper copy of the file in the first place, and it was because Tony wasn’t above hacking into SHIELD to delete the electric copies. But the information about Obadiah Stane had been very clear. He’d betrayed Tony in the worst possible way, first setting him up for torture and death in Afghanistan and then by stealing the arc reactor right out of Tony’s chest.

It was no wonder that Tony had issues with being vulnerable, considering his past. He and Steve had only known each other for less than a year, and they’d fought a lot at first. They didn’t even have the years of trust that Tony had built with Obadiah. Just a few token words and what probably sounded like empty promises to someone who’d heard it all before. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed with both guilt and sympathy. Never again would he wonder why Tony needed to age play.

Back when he was a baby was probably the only time in Tony’s life when he’d received unconditional love and affection, when he hadn’t had to worry that someone was trying to buy his affection or about someone’s ulterior motives. It also explained why Tony desperately wanted to be a baby now, but wouldn’t allow himself to cross those last few lines and instead clung to the mental age of a toddler. He was too scared to become attached or dependent on anyone because he was always left alone in the end.

He had to proceed carefully here. Tony was so fragile already. One misstep would not only break everything, but also insure that Tony never let anyone in again. He opened his eyes again, realizing that, during those few seconds of silence, Tony had started sucking on the blanket. It was probably just a reflex from nerves, but it was adorable. Unfortunately it wasn’t very sanitary. Steve briefly considered going to get one of the Avengers themed pacifiers that he’d stashed away in his bedside table, and that made him think of something else.

“Baby, you know who I am, right?”

Tony looked confused by the question. “Daddy?” he asked uncertainly, the word a little muffled by the blanket. Then, even more quietly, he added, “Steve?”

“I’m also Captain America,” Steve said in what the Avengers liked to call his “Cap” voice, squaring his shoulders a little. Pepper had once shown him a picture of Tony when he was younger. His bedroom had been outfitted with every imaginable piece of Captain America merchandise, probably thanks to Howard. Steve still wasn’t sure when Tony had lost his adoration of Captain America, but he couldn’t help trying to appeal to it now.

“Captain America,” Tony repeated slowly.

“That’s right. I understand why you’re scared, Tony. I would be too. But you don’t have to worry. Know why?” Steve leaned closer like he was going to tell Tony a secret. Eyes wide with curiosity, Tony craned his neck to listen. Steve whispered, “Captain America takes care of bad guys who hurt babies and little kids and everyone else, remember? And if I had been there back when bad people hurt you, I would’ve made them stop.”

Tony was so shocked, the blanket fell from his open mouth. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Whenever I think about someone hurting you, it makes me really sad,” Steve admitted. He couldn’t bear the look of surprise on Tony’s face anymore, so he reached out and lightly tickled one of the feet peeping out from under the blanket. Tony yelped and then giggled, and Steve smiled at him.

It hit him then, for the first time, how deeply he cared about Tony. Not just about the baby, though that was definitely part of it, but also about the man. He wasn’t sure just when that had started. But he knew how Tony felt, because that was really scary. In what seemed like the length of a ten minute sleep, Steve had lost seventy years. His whole world was gone. Tony was the first person who had the potential to mean as much to him as Bucky and Peggy had, who was quickly reaching that point, and the thought of letting anyone that close, never mind losing them, was terrifying.

“I’m scared too,” he confessed. “It’s always scary when you get close to someone. I lost everyone I loved. I didn’t have anything, not really. But now there’s you, and I care about you so much that it seems inevitable...” He shrugged, struggling to put it into words. “I don’t want to lose anyone else I love.”

Tony grabbed Steve’s hand, pulling it away from his foot. His eyes were dark and serious when he said, “Captain America shouldn’t be scared.”

“He’s not, but your Daddy is,” Steve said. “Scared I’m gonna mess this up. I wanna protect you and make you happy, but sometimes I don’t think I’m doing it right.” He squeezed Tony’s hand. “But that’s why I’m Captain America. ‘Cause I don’t always know the answers, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying. And I’ll always listen to you, and try my best to make sure you’re never hurt again. Even if that means beating up some bad guys.”

For the longest couple of minutes of Steve’s life, Tony was quiet as he pondered this. Finally, he sat up a little, wincing. “Daddy, my bum hurts.”

“This will make it better,” Steve told him, offering the container again.

“Help me?” Tony asked meekly, not meeting Steve’s gaze, his cheeks pink.

"Of course I will, sweetpea," Steve said, swallowing hard. Tony laid back again and grabbed his monkey, pressing his face against the fur. He didn't move when Steve slowly reached out and pulled the blanket aside. Right away he could see the red and irritated skin, though it wasn't as bad as he'd expected. He would have to be more prompt about changing Tony's diapers in the future.

He twisted the lid off the container and gently urged Tony to part his legs so that he could see everything. Tony obeyed, though his grip tightened on his monkey. Steve pretended not to notice and began smoothing the cream on the inside of Tony's right thigh, carefully rubbing it in. Then he did Tony's left thigh, making sure that every inch of the raw skin was covered, before he took a little more cream and rubbed it in around the base of Tony's penis. Tony twitched a little, but kept quiet, and Steve tried to be quick as he covered the last reddened area between his buttocks.

"All done," he said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen, screwing the container back on. "Does that feel better?"

Tony nodded without looking away from the monkey. Steve bit his lip to hold back a smile and patted Tony's knee as he stood up, walking into the kitchen to wash his hands. He came back out, drying them on a towel, just in time to see a pair of big brown eyes peeking at him over the back of the sofa.

"Daddy," Tony said, soft and plaintive and almost shy, "I want my teddy."

And at that moment Steve knew that he was already completely sunk, because he would've given Tony anything.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day was spent in the kind of quiet relaxation that was foreign to Tony. There was so much on his plate most of the time that he rarely had the time to just stop and laze around for a while. Honestly, before the Avengers had moved into the tower, most of his knowledge of television and movies came from JARVIS, who would let him know when something had reached the point of popularity that meant Tony should, if not watch it, at least research it a little bit to be informed.

Steve, for all that he enjoyed a good workout, seemed to be equally fond of doing nothing more laborious sprawling on the couch and watching several hours of television. He wasn’t overly picky about what he watched, either, so long as the movie or show didn’t contain anything triggering. So it was that Tony experienced the first day that he could honestly remember ever where he’d done nothing more than wake up, have breakfast, and then watch cartoons all day.

Weirdest of all, it was actually nice to not have to worry about anything. He loved his workshop, loved the fact that he had a hundred projects on the go at any given time, but there was definitely something to be said for cuddling up to Steve and letting Steve stroke his hair and knowing that if something happened his daddy would take care of. He even dozed off a couple of times, but every time he woke up Steve was still right there beside him. The only time Steve moved was at lunch time, to fix them both some sandwiches, which he cut into small pieces so that he could feed both Tony and himself.

It was easily the longest he’d ever spent being little.

Close to five, Steve’s phone buzzed with a text message. He shifted enough so that he could pull it out, then huffed. “Oh, right. Clint wants to know about movie night.”

Tony made a noncommittal sound, pressing his face into Steve’s side. There was a part of him that didn’t ever want to move. What he had here with Steve was peaceful. He wanted to fall back asleep until it was bedtime. Then Steve would undoubtedly pick him up, carry him back into the bedroom, and probably put him back into a diaper. Which Tony wasn’t crazy about, because diapers were for babies and he was not a baby, but it would be worth it if he could fall asleep next to his daddy again…

“Tony?”

“I’m tired, Daddy,” Tony mumbled. The name got easier to say every time, he noticed.

“I can tell him no if you want,” Steve said.

“No, it’s okay.” Tony blinked and forced himself to sit up. He felt a little hazy, and his heart flipped over when he saw the look of undisguised affection on Steve’s face.

“Are you sure?”

“Um, yeah. I just… I have to get back to being big again.” He went to stand up and stumbled, legs caught in the blanket. Steve caught him before he hit the ground, chuckling as he lifted Tony into his arms. It was automatic now to wrap his legs around Steve’s waist and his arms around Steve’s neck, and that was almost as terrifying as that look.

“Come on. I’ll help you get dressed, then text Clint and tell him we’re good to go in an hour. That will give you some time,” Steve said, carrying him into the bedroom. The bag of diapers was still on the floor. Tony refused to look at it as he wordlessly took the clean set of boxers Steve gave him and pulled them on. Like the other pair, they were still loose, but they’d do to get him back to his floor. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about blinding the rest of the team if he met them in the elevator.

He turned to leave, but Steve stopped him with a hand to his shoulder and handed him the container of diaper cream. Tony felt his face burn as he took the cream, already knowing that he wouldn’t use it. Being exposed to Steve when he was little had been scary and embarrassing, mostly because there was a part of him that still expected Steve to back off and start laughing mockingly. He couldn’t imagine having a diaper changed without feeling like he was drowning in mortification.

But at the same time, he’d enjoyed it. Not the diaper rash part, obviously, that part sucked, but the part where Steve was so gentle but brisk. He hadn’t dawdled, but he hadn’t rushed either. He’d just rubbed the cream in like it was something he did every day, like he really did have a baby and it was just part of life. Tony had never felt as little as he had at that moment, lying there with his legs splayed wide and trusting everything to this man.

Tucking the container under his arm, he fled without saying goodbye. His heart was racing as he entered the elevator. He’d told himself not to get too used to having Steve around, but apparently his stupid brain hadn’t gotten the memo. Already it was hard to picture going back to being little by himself. Before, taking the stolen few minutes to play with his dinosaurs or trucks or color had been enough. Now, Steve was making him want things he’d never really dared to let himself think about before.

He made it back to his floor without seeing anything, thanks to JARVIS, where he immediately hid the container in an empty kitchen cupboard so that he wouldn’t have to look at it. It represented too many lines that Tony couldn’t cross. Then he went into the bathroom and took a very long, very hot shower, pointedly bundling Steve’s shirt and boxers into the laundry chute. The service that took care of the tower’s laundry would wash the clothes and then return them to Steve.

That done, he tackled his bedroom. The sheets were dry but stank, and – just like the ones before – were tossed in the trash. After the first time he’d peed his bed, he’d purchased a mattress cover and put it down under the sheets. It was dry now too. He threw a couple of blankets over it, figuring that would do, and only stopped when he caught sight of his teddy bear on the floor. Slowly, Tony knelt down and picked it up. He could smell urine as soon as it was within arm’s reach.

Technically it should be thrown out too. He didn’t want the laundry service to wonder why the Avengers were having a teddy bear that smelled like pee washed and dried. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He set the bear on his nightstand, figuring he’d decide what to do with it after the movie night, and got dressed in jeans and a muscle shirt. By that time, it was just about time to go downstairs and his phone had half a dozen text messages on it from Clint telling him about movie night.

“J, tell them I’m on my way down,” Tony said tiredly.

“Done, sir.”

“Thanks.” He checked his email as he entered the elevator, wincing as he saw the long list that had piled up in his absence. He’d definitely have to spend the next two or three days locked up in the workshop to make up for the lag. He’d been behind ever since the mission where he hit his head, and otherwise he wouldn’t be catching up anytime soon.

Really, he didn’t even have time for the movie. Tony sighed. “Change of plans. I’ve got too much to do.”

“Shall I tell the Avengers you’re otherwise occupied and take you to the workshop?”

“Please.” Tony sent an email to Pepper and then put his phone back in his pocket. Dummy rushed over to meet him as he walked into the shop, and Tony patted his head absently as he went to his table. He had a lot of work to do.

He was deep into an update on the newest Starkpad model and didn't really register the doors opening behind him or the faint clicking of heels against the floor until Pepper put a hand on his arm. Tony jerked, and it was a good thing that he wasn't working with his welder or he probably would've set the workshop - or himself - on fire. Her lips moved, but he couldn't hear anything over the sound of the blaring music until JARVIS lowered the volume. For a moment, the silence was deafening.

Then Pepper said, "What's this I hear about you skipping movie night?"

"Bunch of tattletales, I swear," Tony muttered, shaking his head and straightening up. His back ached when he moved. "What time is it, anyway? Are they done yet?"

Pepper looked torn between amusement and exasperation. "It's 3pm, Tony. Have you been down here all night?"

"I... guess?" Tony said uncertainly. He hadn't taken any breaks since he'd come down to the workshop. He'd started with fixing a minor error in suit's left gauntlet, and then he'd moved on to a project for SI, and then he'd gotten on a roll with the development of a new Widow Bite for Natasha... and then he'd gone back to something else for SI. So yeah, that actually sounded about right now that he thought about it. No wonder his back was sore.

"One of these days, I'm going to get Steve to come down here and carry you to bed when you pass out," Pepper warned. She clearly meant it as a joke, but it hit a little too close to home and Tony winced.

"I doubt Cap would do that," he said in a lame attempt to cover it up, but it was too late. Pepper's eyes were already narrowed.

"Okay, what's going on? I thought you and Steve were friends now. It wouldn't be the first time he's carted your ass to bed," she pointed out, and the annoying thing was that she was right. Once or twice - certainly no more than three or four times - over the past year, Tony had been so exhausted coming home from one function or another that he'd passed out on the couch. And he always woke up in his bed the next morning.

"We are friends," Tony said.

"Then what is it? Oh."

He turned his head quickly, recognizing that sound. It was the one Pepper made when she thought she'd worked something out. "Oh? Oh, what?"

Now Pepper was smiling. "Have you finally figured out how you feel about him?"

"... What?"

Pepper sighed. "I guess not. Never mind." She patted his arm. "Steve is your friend. He cares about you. He was the one who called and told me that you'd holed up down here."

"I haven't even been down here for 24 hours yet!"

"That's not really something to be proud of, Tony," she said dryly, rolling her eyes. "I think it's sweet."

"Not as sweet as you think," Tony muttered, fidgeting. That squirmy feeling was back in his belly and he wasn't sure how to handle it. Because he couldn't really say that was a part of the age play. No, that was something Steve would've done back when they were only friends because they were on the same team and lived in the same house. It was just the way Steve was.

Predictably, she ignored him. "I just came to tell you that you've got a board meeting next Monday that you have to attend. You can't miss this one, understand?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Don't 'yeah, yeah' me. I'm not above asking Steve to get you dressed and put you in the car, you know."

"I'm not a fucking baby!" Tony snapped.

Pepper looked a little startled. "I was just teasing."

Shit. He bit his lip, having reacted without thinking. "I'm sorry, Pep. I'm just... it's been a long week, that's all. I have a lot on my plate."

Her expression softened a little, as he'd known it would. "It's okay. Just try to make sure you're there, okay?"

Tony nodded, knowing that now he would have to go. "Is that all, Miss Potts?"

Her smile was quick. "That's all, Mr. Stark." She squeezed his arm one last time and then turned to go. Tony watched her leave out of the corner of his eye. They'd been so good together, but it had been brief. Fleeting. Headed for disaster from the moment that they kissed on that rooftop, and even though Tony had known it was coming there was no way to avoid it.

At least now things between them were mostly back to normal. There was still a little awkwardness, but it was far better than it was before. He sighed and turned back to the plans for the Starkpad, finishing them up and sending them on to SI R&D for further development. Then he moved on to a couple of other projects that had been waiting for longer than they really should have.

By the time he actually got around to leaving the workshop, it was 8am the next morning and his back was officially failing him. He leaned heavily against the wall of the elevator as it took him up to his floor. He had a headache, and he was hungry, but nothing sounded as good as a few hours of sleep. Then he'd head back down to the workshop - barring a call to assemble, of course, because it had been a little while and that was usually an indication that all hell was about to break lose.

He walked into his bedroom and froze, seeing the difference instantly. His bed had been fully made up, sheets flattened down with army precision, and there was even a new red and gold comforter set that looked incredibly comfortable. Right on top, front and center of the newly fluffed pillows where he couldn't possibly miss them, was the container of diaper cream sitting right beside his freshly washed teddy bear and monkey.

Chapter Text

Truth be told, Steve felt a little guilty about going into Tony’s bedroom. After heading out to the stores to buy a new comforter set – and it had been a lot easier than he was expecting to find a set that was patterned in red and gold, even if he couldn’t find an Iron Man themed set in king size – he’d returned to the tower with the intention of just leaving it just inside Tony’s door, where none of the other Avengers would see it just in case they came looking for Tony. The last thing Steve needed right now was Clint or Natasha asking questions about why he’d bought a comforter for Tony.

But then JARVIS had spoken up in that frank way of his, telling Steve that he should know “sir was distressed at the sight of his teddy bear but seemed unaware as to how to fix it, and spent several minutes standing over the garbage can lost in thought”. That right there sealed it for Steve. He quietly entered Tony’s room, retrieved the bear from where Tony had left it, and walked several blocks to a laundromat even though there was a perfectly serviceable washer and drawer at the tower.

He spent a couple of hours washing and drying the bear. A couple of people gave him odd looks, not because they recognized him as Captain America, but because he was a single man washing a sole teddy bear on a Wednesday afternoon. Steve just gave them his most innocent smile and carried on, pleased when the bear came out just as fluffy and soft as before. He smuggled it back into the tower, picking up the monkey from his room on the way by, and returned to Tony’s room.

It only took a few extra minutes to put new sheets on the bed on top of the plastic protector, and then lay out the comforter set. Hawk and the unnamed bear received a place of honor right at the top in front of a mound of pillows. Steve surveyed the room and then, on a hunch, went into the kitchen. Sure enough, he found the container of diaper cream shoved into one of the empty cupboards. That was Tony. He shook his head and set the cream beside monkey and bear, hoping – but not really expecting – that Tony would take the hint and use it.

The two of them definitely needed to talk.

It was fortunate that Pepper intervened and rousted Tony out of the workshop when she did, because there was a call to assemble the very next morning. Iron Man showed up to help them cage in the super powered five-year-old running around Manhattan, of course, but the quality of the comms perfectly conveyed how groggy Tony sounded to Steve’s ears. Once the kid was safely contained, Steve had to stop himself from ushering Tony back to bed – and not even little Tony, either, he would’ve been just as happy to send adult Tony back to bed to get up some well-earned sleep.

Tony was Tony, though, stubborn to the end, and the second they got back to the tower he threw himself down on the couch with a groan. “Kill me now.”

“I’ll remember that the next time you get pissed at me for shooting an arrow at you,” said Clint, smirking as he dug out a box of Lucky Charms. He grabbed a handful and shoved it in his mouth.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Tony grumbled.

“So you meant me?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow and delicately stealing one of the crescent moon marshmallows from Clint.

“Good god no.” Tony looked briefly horrified, proving that he wasn’t tired enough to have forgotten exactly what the Black Widow was capable of. He shook his head and draped an arm over his eyes. “Never mind, forget I said anything.”

She smirked at him and went into the kitchen. Clint followed. Bruce was already in there, recuperating from the fight. There hadn’t been a need for the Hulk, but Bruce had lost his temper when he saw a bunch of police officers shooting at the five-year-old. Fortunately no one had been hurt - just a few police officers nursing wounded pride - but the unplanned changes always left Bruce the hungriest. It was the most privacy that they were going to get on the communal floor of the tower, so Steve sat down on the end of the couch and looked at Tony.

“I’m hungry,” he said.

“Kitchen’s right there, Cap,” Tony muttered, waving a hand in the general direction of the kitchen.

“I figured you might be, too. Want to go out for a pizza? My treat.”

Tony lifted his arm and squinted at Steve. “I have work to do.”

“We can go to De Luca,” Steve coaxed. According to Tony, they made the best pizza in the city (possibly in the U.S.) but they didn’t deliver, which meant that visits there were rare because Tony was so busy.

“I never should’ve told you I liked that place.”

Steve grinned, taking that as a sign of defeat, and grabbed Tony’s hand to gently pull him to his feet. They left before the rest of the Avengers could figure out where they were heading. One of Tony’s drivers dropped them off in front of the quaint little restaurant. It didn’t look like much – Steve had been deeply skeptical the first time Tony brought the team here – but the food more than made up for the simple decorating. His stomach started to growl as soon as they walked through the door and he inhaled that first spicy whiff of tomato sauce and cheese.

The two of them were seated immediately, and a waitress came to take their orders. Steve deliberately kept the conversation light over their meal, asking questions about what Tony was working on and really listening to the answers, and gradually Tony relaxed as he talked. He’d discovered that Tony wasn’t difficult to understand, not if he paid attention, though Tony and Bruce together were a whole different story. Science geek was a language that Steve was pretty sure he would never be fluent in.

It was really one of the first times that they’d ever had a meal together with just the two of them. The food was excellent, but the company was just as good. Tony could talk, obviously, but he was good at listening too, and Steve found himself talking excitedly about his most recent trip to the newest exhibit Museum of Modern Art. He’d thought Tony might find the subject boring, but he didn’t seem to. He was sat back in his chair, absently trailing a finger around the top of his water glass, bright eyes focused on Steve like there was no one else in the restaurant.

He hated to ruin it. But as they got back into the car, Steve put up the privacy glass separating them from the driver and cleared his throat. “Tony, I have to ask… are you okay with what’s been going on between us?”

The smile dropped off of Tony’s face, replaced by a tired look. “I don’t suppose asking you to just leave it alone and forget anything ever happened is an option.”

“No,” Steve said bluntly. He’d seen Tony open up more in the past two hours than he had in the past two months, and he was positive at least part of that was because of the age play. “Look, I’ve never done this before. I did a lot of research, but it’s not the same as doing it in real life. I don’t want to – to mess this up, or make you uncomfortable, or overstep my boundaries. I need to know what’s okay and what isn’t.”

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Why do you keep pushing it?” he asked finally. “Trying to get me to – you know. I’m not a baby, Steve.”

“Really?” Steve asked, giving him a hard look. “Because I have a lot of evidence that suggests otherwise.”

A light flush spread across the bridge of Tony’s nose. “That’s not – the bed wetting has nothing to do with it,” he hissed, keeping his voice down even though no one could overhear them.

“I didn’t mean that. Tony, you like to be carried. You like stuffed animals. You liked it when I gave you a bath and fed you breakfast. I even think you liked the diapers – at the very least you found them comforting and secure, at least until I let you sleep too long without changing you. And I’m sure that if you tried them, you’d like pacifiers and bottles too. What I don’t understand is why you won’t let yourself have those things. You’re okay with coloring books and cars, but not everything else? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Tony’s blush deepened until his face was bright red. “Because I don’t want that!”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m a big boy! Not a baby! Starks aren’t babies! Starks are made of iron!” Tony snapped. The words were out before he could stop them, judging from the embarrassed look that instantly crossed his face. Steve stared at him as Tony dropped his gaze, looking at the floor like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Someday, Steve didn’t know exactly when, time travel would actually become a legitimate thing. And when it did, he was going to go back in time to punch Howard Stark in the face and demand to know what the hell the man had been thinking. Because that sounded like something Tony had been told dozens, if not hundreds, of times over the years until the words sank in so deep that they overshadowed every little thing that Tony tried to do. Steve had always thought well of the man who flew Peggy and him over enemy lines, but this was proving that he hadn’t known Howard at all.

Apparently uncomfortable from the weight of the continuing silence, Tony squirmed and muttered, “I just… it’s a line that I can’t come back from. Coloring books, Play-Doh, toys… some adults still do that kind of stuff. Maybe it doesn’t mean the same thing to them as it does to me, but it happens. What you’re suggesting… it’s weird, okay? I’m an adult. I shouldn’t want that stuff. I should be okay with just…” He trailed off.

“Tony, do you remember those pictures I showed you?” Steve asked him quietly.

“Yeah, of course.”

Steve nodded. “If it’s weird for you to like this, then I must be weird too. Maybe I hadn’t heard of it before you, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t make sense. You work all the time and you have a ton of stress –” and your childhood was shit, Steve did not add, even though he wanted to “- and wanting to just… be a baby for a while and get to have things you’ve never had is not a bad thing.”

“I can’t,” Tony said in a small voice.

“Yes you can,” Steve said gently, daring to reach out and take his hand. He looked so scared, Steve couldn’t help it. “I’ll be there to help you, I promise. How about this? Why don’t we just have one day where we try it? Like a trial run.”

“A trial run?”

“One day and one night where I take care of it so you can see what it’s like. If you don’t like being a baby, then we never have to do it again. And we’ll come up with some sort of signal or word that you can say if you really need it to stop, so long as you promise to give it an honest try,” Steve added, because if Tony really was genuinely uncomfortable with this after they began, Steve didn’t want to force him through it.

Tony stared at him for a few seconds, eyes narrowed. “And if I don’t like it?”

“Then we can continue the same way we have been. We’ll play together and I won’t try to do anything aimed at babies anymore,” Steve replied. He was 99% certain that wouldn’t happen. Tony had been holding himself back from this for so long and, even now, the longing was written all over his face; once he got a taste of the affection and caring that he craved so much, he would never be able to go back.

He waited patiently while Tony thought the proposal over, trying not to look too hopeful. Tony hadn’t shot him down immediately, which was an excellent sign. It seemed like he was actually considering it. Steve mentally crossed his fingers. This would be so good for Tony. Not only would it allow him to really relax for once, it would show him what he’d been missing all those years. He wouldn’t have to hold himself back anymore, trying to pretend that the age play he indulged with was enough when it wasn’t.

“Alright.”

“What?” Steve blurted, hardly able to believe that word had actually come out of Tony’s mouth.

Tony’s smile wasn’t quite as cocky as normal, edging on uncertain and shy. “I said alright. Twenty-fours, and if I don’t like it I’ll say “Edwin” and it stops immediately and you never bring it up again.”

“Deal,” Steve said quickly, squeezing his hand. “When?”

“I’ll check my schedule. I need to catch up a little more first. Saturday, maybe.”

“Saturday,” Steve repeated, turning to the window to hide his huge smile.

Chapter Text

If it hadn’t been for the fact that JARVIS never would have let him forget it, Tony might have discovered a last minute appointment he had to attend on Saturday afternoon. Preferably, an appointment that would require traveling halfway across the world. Japan was always nice this time of year, and Pepper would probably relish the opportunity to actually get him to attend some meetings. CEO or not, there was often something about meeting the real Tony Stark that always tended to soften people up (until they got to know him, which was why Pepper usually limited the length of meetings whenever she could).

Instead, shortly after four, he opened the door to Steve’s floor without knocking and stepped inside. Tony wasn’t sure what he was expecting – to be jumped, maybe, and stuffed into a diaper, in which case he wasn't above knocking Steve out and making a run for it – but the floor was in darkness except for the flickering light of a television screen. He kicked his shoes off and shuffled forward, curious, only to find Steve sitting on the couch watching Auction Kings. He was completely absorbed in someone trying to sell a first edition of A Christmas Carole.

Tony looked at Steve for a moment and then glanced over the rest of the room, noting that it was pretty normal. No baby things in sight, just an empty bowl and glass on the coffee table. He edged closer and sat down on the other end of the couch. The only sign Steve gave that he even noticed Tony was there was an absentminded wave of the hand. That was fine with Tony. He leaned back and pulled his knees up to his chin, watching as the so-called first edition turned out to be an excellent fake and the swindler was thrown out of the auction house.

It wasn’t the most fascinating show in the world and after an episode or two Tony could feel fatigue creeping up on him. He blinked more slowly, eyelids growing heavier every time he lifted them. He’d spent the last two or three days and nights in the workshop, barely emerging to sleep or eat. Apparently the four hour nap he’d grabbed from 2am to 6am this morning wasn’t going to cut it. He made it through the successful sale of a rare record before he gave in, resting his head against his knees as he fell asleep.

The pressure of a warm hand on his back woke him up, accompanying a soft voice: “C’mon, baby, it’s time to wake up. If you sleep much longer, you’ll be up all night.”

“Don’t care. Sleepy,” Tony mumbled, turning his face away. The room was dark and quiet, the television now off, and he was comfortable. He closed his eyes again and heard Steve chuckle quietly. Then there were strong hands under his arms, lifting him with ease. Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, discovering that his shoulder was an even more comfortable place to rest his head, especially when Steve’s hand came up and cupped the back of his head to keep it there.

“How about we get you changed and then we can make some supper together?” Steve suggested, keeping his voice low as he carried Tony into the bedroom. “I was thinking about spaghetti. You like that?”

“No. Sleepy.” Tony kept his eyes shut, even though he was feeling a little more awake now. It felt so good to relax into Steve’s warmth and let the man carry him that he couldn’t help whining a little when Steve set him down on the bed.

“Shh, I know. We gotta get you changed. Bear with me, honey. Arms up.” Steve gripped the edge of his filthy t-shirt, pulling it over Tony’s head. He tossed it in the laundry and reached for Tony’s jeans, thumbing the button over and dragging them down.

In just his boxers, Tony felt a flutter of anxiety. He clenched his hands into fists and jumped when something soft and furry brushed against his forearms. Opening his eyes, he realized that Steve had set his teddy bear on the bed. How it and his monkey had migrated from their place on Tony’s bed to here, he wasn’t sure, but he was deeply glad that it was there. He wrapped both arms around the teddy and hugged it tightly, pressing his face into the fur. It smelled faintly of Steve’s shampoo.

Steve tugged his boxers down and off, leaving him bare. His skin prickled and he shivered at the chill, glad that he could hide his burning face behind the teddy bear when Steve gently pushed his thighs apart. Tony started at the first touch of cold fingers against his thigh, but realized Steve was just rubbing in more of the diaper cream. He exhaled shakily, tears pricking at his eyes, and blinked hard to keep them at bay. It probably didn’t take more than a minute or two, but his insides were all squirmy by the time Steve lifted his hips to slip the diaper under him and then smoothed the straps into place.

“Tony?” Steve whispered. “Can you look at me?”

He didn’t want to, but he could feel Steve looking at him and the intensity of that stare was impossible to ignore. Tony slowly lowered the bear, peeking over an ear. Steve smiled at him, compassion and affection written across his face.

“Hey sweetpea. Are you hungry?”

Tony considered the question for a moment and then nodded. He hadn’t eaten in a while. Steve’s smile widened and he picked up a piece of folded clothing from the bottom of the bed. It was a bodysuit, the short-sleeved kind babies wore that unsnapped at the crotch. Pale blue in color, there was an image of Iron Man on the front with bright red words underneath that proclaimed the wearer ‘Daddy’s Little Hero’. He stared at the bodysuit and then looked at Steve incredulously.

“It’s cute,” Steve said defensively. “Arms up.” He pulled the bodysuit over Tony’s head, guiding his hands through the arm holes, and then snapped it shut over the diaper. Tony’s legs were bare, and he was still cold. Before he had the chance to huddle in on himself, Steve scooped him up. His arm pressed across Tony’s butt to hold him in place, making the diaper impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t as uncomfortable as Tony wanted it to be. The diaper was a little bulky, but restrictive wasn’t really the right word. Neither was confining. He was just very aware of the fact that it was there, and of what would happen when he had to pee. And while the thought of being changed still made him feel squirmy inside, at the same it was almost… comforting. The diaper was like a constant reminder of his daddy’s presence. He slipped his thumb into his mouth and laid his head back on Steve’s shoulder.

“Good boy, Tony,” Steve whispered to him, walking back into the kitchen. “Spaghetti time, yeah? Here, don’t suck your thumb. You haven’t washed your hands. And besides, you’re going to need your hands to help me.” He pulled Tony’s thumb away, then pressed something else to Tony’s mouth before he could whine in protest.

Pacifier. Tony didn’t have to open his eyes to know that. The burning in his face, which had started to fade now that the diaper change was over, was back in full force, but he had agreed to this, so he opened his mouth. The silicone teat wasn’t as hard as he was expecting. It settled comfortably on his tongue, the plastic exterior pressing against his lips, when he gave it a hesitant suck. He realized that he liked the fact that it covered his mouth, offering pressure from the outside as well as the inside.

He wiggled his newly freed hand and sucked again, rolling his tongue against the teat. It was kind of nice not having his thumb go all wrinkly. He relaxed against Steve, humming in the back of his throat. He remembered this feeling, sort of. Every once in a while, when Howard wasn't around, Maria used to give him a pacifier long after she was supposed to, just so that he would be quiet. He remembered that sometimes she used to say that once he'd been weaned off pacifiers, Tony started talking and never stopped.

Steve brushed a kiss over the top of his head and carried him over to the sink. Together, they washed their hands under warm water. Then Steve carefully set him down in one of the chairs at the table. There were some covered dishes on the counter, and he picked up one of them and set it in front of Tony. He whipped the cover away to reveal a bunch of tomatoes, cut neatly in half and with the seeds already removed. Tony blinked at them, then looked up at Steve questioningly.

"I like to make sauce from scratch," Steve told him. "Could you mash these up for me?"

By way of response, Tony plunged a hand into the bowl. The tomatoes were cool against his fingers, but squished pleasantly when he made a fist. He giggled around his pacifier. Steve grinned and spread out some paper towels, then moved away towards the stove. Tony didn't bother to watch what he was doing, too preoccupied with how it felt to hold half a tomato in his hand and then very slowly squeeze his hand shut. The fruit swelled against the pressure and then burst, oozing between his clenched fingers.

It was delightfully messy, with juice running all the way down to his elbow. He giggled again, watching with fascination as the red liquid beaded up and then started dripping onto the floor, and opened his hand to let the mangled remains of the tomato fall back into the bowl. He pushed both hands in, squishing several pieces against the metal bottom. More juice swelled up against the sides, along with a couple of stray seeds that his daddy had missed.

He liked it better when he was squeezing each tomato individually. He picked through the bowl, very carefully selected a tomato half and then mashed it between his fingers. Then he dropped it back in the bowl and started the process over again. It was fun to dig his nails into the outer skin and peel it away, but he also liked rubbing his knuckles into the delicate inner flesh. The fruit always squelched when he did that, sending juice splattering against his face and chest and making him laugh.

His tummy growled and he frowned, looking at the squishy contents of the bowl. His fingers were stained with tomato juice. He opened his mouth, letting his pacifier fall on the table, and started to bring his hand up to his mouth. Steve intercepted him, pulling his hand away.

"No, baby, don't do that."

Tony whined, screwing his face up as his belly grumbled again. It was louder this time, and there was no way Steve had messed it. The tears from before were back, welling up in his eyes as he looked up at his daddy pleadingly. Steve's face softened, but he didn't give in. He picked Tony's pacifier up with his free hand and pushed it back into his mouth instead.

"Just a bit longer, okay?"

"Daddy, hungry," Tony whimpered, a tear slipping down his cheek. It came out somewhat garbled around his pacifier, but evidently the message got across. Steve whisked the bowl of tomatoes away but came back with a few cut up pieces of chicken that he put down on the table in front of Tony. He took the pacifier, clipped it to the front of Tony's bodysuit with a little blue strap, and then picked up a piece of chicken and held it in front of Tony's mouth.

It smelled too good to resist. Tony took it, chewing the chicken carefully, and picked the second piece up himself. Steve went back to the stove and dumped the tomatoes into a frying pan. By the time Tony was finished with his chicken, his daddy was dishing up the spaghetti. He brought over two plates. Tony's was served on a bright red plate that had Captain America's shield on it, just visible through the pasta and tomato sauce, and there was even a little fork that was blue with the words 'Captain America' on it in red to match.

"Dinner is served," Steve said, sinking into the chair beside Tony, and scooped up a bit of pasta on the blue fork to feed him.

Chapter Text

After a messy dinner – even while being fed, Tony still managed to get even more tomato sauce all over his face and hands – Steve cleaned him off with a damp cloth and left the dishes to soak. He carried Tony back into the living room and set him down on the couch, turning the television to a popular kids movie that had only recently been released. At first Tony pouted, clearly not pleased at being made to watch something so childish, but within fifteen minutes he was deeply absorbed in the movie.

Steve hid a smile and settled in the chair opposite, sketchbook open on his knee. Rather than pick up his pencil right away, he took a few moments to observe Tony. He didn’t want to curse himself, but the night had been going very well so far. Tony had been nervous when he first came in, and truth be told so had Steve. This was a big step, one that had the potential to be make or break in terms of their age play, and one wrong move would be enough to close off this part of Tony forever.

He’d been honest; even if Tony decided that he wasn’t comfortable being a baby and wanted to be a little boy instead, that was fine with Steve. And he wouldn’t have pushed if he wasn’t sure that Tony really did want this. He could see it in the way that Tony was acting. Allowing Steve to put a diaper on him had obviously been mortifying, but he’d still let it happen. There was no way Tony would have done that if he wasn’t a baby at heart, their agreement or no – instinctive need to please or no.

And Tony was getting a little more comfortable now that he’d had a nap and been fed. He was lying on his stomach, twisted a bit to keep the arc reactor from digging into his chest, and watching the television with heavily lidded his eyes. His thumb was tucked back in his mouth, and his cheeks moved occasionally when he gathered enough awareness to give a lazy suck. If he noticed that Steve was watching him instead of sketching, he wasn’t giving any indication.

Slowly, so as not to startle him, Steve turned back to his sketchbook and started to draw. He kept the lines quick and light, aiming for something that he could fill in with deeper lines or maybe some color later on if he decided he liked the way the drawing turned out. He’d done this plenty of times, drawing in the flickering light of the screen, but always with an edge of restlessness that made it difficult to concentrate. Being alone just made him remember everything that he had lost, because in the army solitary time was practically non-existent.

Having Tony there helped immensely. Even if they weren’t speaking, just the quiet sound of Tony’s breath under the voices of the television was comforting. Being able to look up and see Tony on the couch woke up a sense of indulgence he hadn’t felt for years. Steve was under no illusion that, in a way, this was something Tony was giving to him. Not just companionship, but also the feeling of being needed for more than just Captain America. Like this, Tony needed him, Steve Rogers. That was a powerful thing, especially coming from Tony, who normally guarded himself so carefully.

He finished the sketch of Tony on the couch, looked over the rough lines momentarily, and quietly flipped to another page. This sketch was drawn from memory, one of Tony in the chair as he’d opened his mouth to accept another mouthful of pasta. He’d looked like a baby bird. In a bit of fancy, Steve added in a little set of wings, the feathers covered in splatters of tomato sauce, to complete the look and grinned at how cute the resulting picture was. Adult Tony would kill him if he ever saw it, but it was worth it.

By that point the movie was ending. JARVIS changed it automatically to a different one, but Tony’s eyes were mostly closed. He was clinging to consciousness by a thin thread out of sheer stubbornness. A brief nap wasn’t nearly enough to make up for three or four days of being awake. Steve closed his book and set it aside, rising. Tony didn’t move, and Steve left him there while he went into the kitchen and quickly scrubbed up the dishes. Then he turned to the cupboards and took out one of the bottles he’d sterilized earlier.

A little help from JARVIS had introduced him to the concept of meal replacement drinks, which sounded like an excellent idea for a genius who routinely forgot all about eating – he was pretty sure he could give Tony one in a bottle and Tony wouldn’t know the difference. Tonight, though, Steve went for warm milk flavored with honey and a little bit of cinnamon. He shook the bottle idly as he went back into the living room, doing his best to conceal his excitement. This was one part he had been looking forward to.

Tony gazed up at him with bleary eyes when Steve paused in front of the couch. “Daddy?” he mumbled around his thumb.

“Hey you,” Steve said softly, tucking the bottle under his arm so that he could lean down and pick Tony up. The change in position warranted a whine, though it didn’t stop Tony from curling into him. Steve rubbed a reassuring hand down his back and moved back to the chair, sitting down and swinging Tony’s legs up so that he was sitting sideways, back braced against Steve’s arm.

He gently pulled Tony’s thumb out of his mouth and replaced it with the nipple of the bottle. Tony’s eyebrows came together in a look of confusion at first, and Steve squeezed the sides of the bottle to let a little milk out. Tony swallowed automatically, and then – even though he tensed a little and reached up to hold the bottle himself - he sucked and swallowed again. It seemed to take him a little while to get the hang of sucking and swallowing in a rhythm. He was messy at first, milk spilling down his chin when he sucked too hard, and Steve carefully wiped it away with the towel he’d thought to sling over his shoulder.

Gradually, though, his body relaxed a little more and he melted into Steve. His grip on the bottle loosened until his hands slipped back into his lap, and Steve felt comfortable enough to lower him back a little until Tony was more or less supported entirely by the arm against his back. He lifted the bottle a little higher to help compensate, letting gravity do its job. He was half-expecting Tony to close his eyes or look away, but Tony kept staring right at him while he drank, and Steve was helpless to do anything but meet his gaze.

This felt real in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. Tony was so warm and small, curled comfortably in the crook of his arm with his legs across Steve’s lap. The only sound in the room, aside from their breathing and the quiet sound of the television, was the snuffling and slurping noises Tony made as he drank. It was a new sound, one that Steve would only associate with this moment, when he knew with 100% certainty that this was the best decision he had ever made.

Tony drank about 3/4s of the bottle before he let go of the nipple, smacking his lips and blinking sleepily. He’d started squirming a little when he was about halfway done, and Steve had a sneaking suspicion he knew what the problem was. He pretended not to notice, setting the bottle aside and lifting Tony up against his shoulder the way he’d seen his ma do a handful of times when he was a kid and she was babysitting for the neighbors. Gently, well aware of how tender the arc reactor could be, he patted Tony on the back. The wiggling intensified, though Tony wasn’t so much fighting to get away as restless. He could tell because, when he loosened his grip enough to let Tony pull away if he wanted to, Tony stayed where he was.

“You’re being such a good baby, Tony,” Steve whispered, turning his head so that the words would go straight into Tony’s ear. “Daddy’s really proud of you. You try so hard, and no one ever gives you credit for that. But you don’t have to fight right now. You can just let go. I’m right here. I’ll take care of you.” He ceased patting for a second to rub slow circles onto Tony’s back.

There was a quiet burp then, accompanied by a small shudder, and Tony’s nails dug into his shoulders briefly. Steve felt the renewed relaxation of his body and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Proud of you,” he repeated, because those were words Tony hadn’t heard nearly enough growing up. “Daddy’s gonna get you changed and then we’re headed to bed for the night, okay? Got you some new pajamas just for tonight, bet you’ll like them.”

He stood up, lifting Tony into his arms again. Though he was well aware that Tony could walk – and, more than likely, would be walking during their age play – Steve was enjoying being able to carry him. Never had he been this selfishly grateful for his strength. He hummed quietly as he carried Tony back into the bedroom and laid out the changing pad on the bed. He set Tony down on top of it and unsnapped the crotch, revealing the diaper underneath. Just like before, it was a little squishy to the touch.

The straps came away easily under his touch, revealing the urine dampened skin underneath. Steve tossed the soiled diaper into the trash and used baby wipes to clean Tony up, noticing that this time Tony wasn’t hiding his face. His eyes were shut, but it was hard to tell whether that was from exhaustion or embarrassment or, possibly, both. He was careful to make sure that all the urine was gone from Tony’s skin, not wanting to make the remaining diaper rash flare up again, and then rubbed on some diaper cream.

Still humming, he put a new diaper on and wiped his hands on the towel he was still wearing over his shoulder. Tony yawned and, apparently sensing that the changing was finished, rolled onto his tummy and buried his face in his monkey. Steve held back a chuckle and fetched the new pajamas he’d bought. He hadn’t been able to resist, remembering a photograph of Tony as a four-year-old that Pepper had once shown him. These were nearly identical, blue and white-striped footie bottoms with a red top that had Captain America’s shield on the front and the lyrics to the ‘Star Spangled Man’ on the back.

He peeled the suit off Tony and, working carefully with very little help on the sleepy baby’s part, replaced it with the pajamas. Tony slumped against him, mouth open a little, while Steve was working to get the bottoms on. Steve shook his head and grabbed the pacifier from where it was still attached to the bodysuit. He pushed it into Tony’s mouth and gathered him up, setting him under the covers at the top of the bed with his monkey and teddy bear in reach. Tony immediately grabbed them, pulling the toys against his chest.

Hard as it was to leave him when he looked so sweet, Steve managed. He cleaned up the changing pad and then went to go get changed for the night. Then he shut the light off and joined Tony, just watching him for a moment in the light of the arc reactor. He wondered if Tony might want a crib at some point, or at least a little bed of his own. Steve had plenty of room; god knew two of the three attached guest bedrooms on his floor never went to use. He’d have to ask later.

He leaned over to kiss Tony on the brow and said softly, “Good night, baby boy.”

Chapter Text

Not surprisingly, Steve was the first one to wake up the next morning. But he came awake suddenly, eyes flying open, half-tensed in preparation for an attack that never came. As he slowly relaxed, he registered that the room was still dark - darker than even the drawn curtains would warrant. A quick glance at the alarm clock showed that it was just past four, but he didn’t remember having any nightmares. He frowned and rubbed a hand over his face just as an elbow rammed into his ribs.

"Fuck," he mouthed, just barely keeping himself from yelling, and squinted down at Tony. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out this was what had woke him up it the first place. Tony was caught up in the blankets and struggling desperately to get free. At first Steve thought he was awake and that something was wrong, but then he realized that Tony's eyes were closed. He was still asleep and dreaming.

He caught a second elbow that was aimed at a spot a lot more delicate than his ribs and sat up, gently pressing Tony's arm down until Tony went limp. Only then, once he was sure Tony wasn’t going to hurt himself, did he grab the sheets and untangle them until Tony was free. Tony flailed for a few seconds, as though testing his newfound freedom, then went so still that Steve was actually worried. It wasn't until he looked closer that he realized Tony was trembling while trying to force himself not to.

"Tony? Baby, it's Daddy. Wake up, sweetpea, you're having a bad dream," he said quietly, tamping down on the urge to stroke Tony’s hair. He'd seen enough men and women waking up from nightmares to know that pinning someone down or even just leaning over them while they were dreaming was a bad idea. The last thing he wanted to do was have Tony wake up and think that Steve had been - or was going to - attacking him.

Tony whimpered, tossing his head from side to side. "Dad... no..." he whispered, his eyebrows drawing together, voice broken.

Steve's heart skipped a beat and he groped around for his phone. It seemed to take forever before he located it on his nightstand and was able to switch on the app for a flashlight. In the surprisingly bright light, he saw that Tony was crying. Slow tears were leaking out from under his closed eyelids and slipping down his cheeks, soaking into the material of the bed. He whimpered again and flinched away from the light, turning his head into the pillow, and then he opened his eyes.

For what was easily one of the longest thirty seconds of Steve's life, the two of them just stared at each other. Steve wasn't sure how to react. Even though he’d asked a handful of times, Tony had refused to talk about his nightmares. And Steve didn’t want to push too hard, so it was impossible to know exactly what Tony was dreaming about. But that didn’t stop from Steve having some very strong suspicions. In the handful of times Tony had called him by a nickname, it was always 'Daddy'. Never 'Dad'.

He had the feeling 'Dad' was reserved for someone else.

"Hi," Steve whispered for lack of anything better to say, forcing himself to smile.

The very last thing he was expecting was for fresh tears to well up in Tony's eyes and spill over quickly as he started to sob. Steve wasted no time, dropping his phone on the bed and scooping Tony up into a hug. Tony clung to him with surprising strength, arms wound around Steve's neck and legs around Steve’s waist. He was shaking so hard his teeth were clicking together, broken only by the sound of his pitiful little cries.

"Shh, Tony. It's okay. Daddy's here," Steve soothed, rubbing his back. "I'm here."

"Gonna leave," Tony muttered between sobs, his fingers tightening on Steve's shirt. "Gonna... not good for anyone, you know? Can't get dependent, s'not... what'll I do when you're gone?" He started to cry even harder. "I don't wanna be alone again."

"That's not going to happen, I promise," Steve said as calmly as he could. He was proud of the fact that his voice didn't waver in the slightest, so Tony had no idea that there were tears in his eyes. Listening to the sound of Tony's crying and knowing that he was, at least in part, responsible for it was heartbreaking.

"Always happens, in the end. Only people to stay don't come see me no more," Tony said childishly. "Pep 'n' Rhodey... I didn't want this with them. I want it with Daddy. Why'd you make me want this with you?"

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get himself under control. Tony needed him to be strong and breaking down wouldn’t help either of them. "Because I'm a selfish man," he answered at length, struggling to keep his composure. Despite his best efforts, a single tear ran down his cheek and he tried to breathe through it. "I'm so sorry, baby."

The fingers digging into his shoulders didn't ease up, but Tony still looked up at him. His eyes were wide and red-rimmed. "Selfish?" he asked in a tiny, confused voice.

"So selfish," Steve agreed, trying for another weak smile. "You have no idea what I get out of this, Tony. I want to help you, of course, but this... it helps me too. I'm more relaxed after a couple hours of playing with you than I am after ten therapy sessions with SHIELD. You make me forget about everything else. And not only that, but you want me. Steve Rogers. Not Captain America. No one’s needed Steve Rogers for a long time.”

“But you’re the best daddy,” Tony said, sounding confused. “You’ll find someone else. I always ruin it.”

“No, you don’t. And I won’t,” Steve said, instantly making a decision to have a talk with Rhodey and Pepper. It made sense that the friendship between Tony and Pepper was still a little awkward after their breakup, and Rhodey was a busy man with a lot of prior commitments. But that didn’t give either one of them an excuse for making Tony feel like this. For god’s sake, the poor man was convinced that he would end up alone because he wasn’t good for anyone to be around.

Tony shook his head, hiccuping through another sob. “Everyone does,” he whispered. “S’bad enough normally… but now there’s this… and I want too much.”

“I’m the one who encouraged you to do this, Tony. And I told you, I get just as much out of this as you do,” Steve pointed out, but he could tell the words were falling on deaf ears. Repeated experience had taught Tony that he would ultimately be alone, and that’s what he would continue to believe until proven otherwise. Since Steve had no intention of going anywhere, he’d just have to show Tony that he was going to be there as both a daddy and a teammate – maybe even a friend.

He freed a hand so that he could wipe his face, then looked down at Tony again. “How about a bath?” he suggested, knowing that there was no way either one of them would be able to go back to sleep right now. A late morning nap would definitely be in order.

“Don’t need one,” Tony mumbled.

“But do you want one?” Steve asked. Tony refused to answer him, but the way he was staring at the bed spoke volumes. And he needed a diaper change either way. Steve swung his legs off the bed, easily standing with Tony’s weight in his arms. The baby gave a startled squeak and clung to him a little tighter at the sudden change in height. Giving him a comforting pat on the bottom, Steve carried him into the bathroom.

All of the bathrooms in the tower came with a large soaker tub, most likely from Pepper’s influence. Steve had never used his before for anything other than a shower, but he was grateful for it now. He’d had the presence of mind last night to put out some toys, baby shampoo and body wash, new fluffy towels, and a bottle of bubble bath in anticipation of this moment. He set Tony down on the toilet seat and started the water, making sure that it was warm. Then he poured in three capfuls of bright green bubble bath.

The bathroom began to fill with the comforting, slightly sweet scent of apples as the water foamed up with white bubbles. He turned back to Tony and peeled his sweaty pajamas and the wet diaper off. Tony stood up, one hand clutching Steve’s, and slowly stepped over the lip of the tub. The water was up to his shins, and when he sat down it rose to his lower ribs. Steve knelt down beside the tub, toys, towels and cleaning implements within reach.

“Let me know when the water is high enough,” he said quietly. The tub was deep enough that the water could easily rise to Tony’s upper chest, but he didn’t think Tony would be okay with that.

“S’good,” Tony said when the water was just brushing the arc reactor, shifting a little. Steve immediately shut the faucet off. The silence in the room was heavy for a few seconds, until Steve reached down and picked up one of the toys he’d bought.

The expression on Tony’s face when the little blue tugboat hit the water and started whistling was so adorable that Steve wished he’d brought his phone in to capture it forever. Tony stared at the boat in wide-eyed amazement, all traces of tears gone. His mouth actually dropped open a little when Steve added a second boat – this one didn’t whistle, but the hull did flash different colors when exposed to water – as well as two fat yellow ducks and a red octopus that could actually stick to the side of the tub.

“Do you like them, baby?” Steve gave the green boat a light push. The whistling sped up as it skated across the water before dying away when the boat’s motion stopped.

Tony lifted a hand and started to reach out, then paused. The look he gave Steve was full of uncertainty, like he expected to be punished for trying to play. Steve just smiled back, hiding the flash of anger, and deliberately aimed one of the ducks in Tony’s direction, giving it a forceful flick. Tony giggled when it bumped into his chest and grabbed onto it with both hands. The duck let out an obnoxiously loud quack, and Tony jumped. Slowly, he did it again. This time he grinned when the duck quacked.

“Guess I better get used to that,” Steve muttered, amused, and picked up the bottle of body wash. He squeezed some out onto a facecloth and lathered it up. It was a little harder washing Tony this time around, because now that Tony had discovered the toys were fun he wasn’t interested in having his playtime interrupted, and he squirmed impatiently when Steve insisted on washing his hands and face. But it was a hundred times better than having him quiet and withdrawn from a nightmare.

Between the quacks of the two ducks and the whistling of the boat, as well as the discovery that holding the flashing boat under the water made the bubble bath turn different colors and that the octopus could fart bubbles when squeezed right, Steve was able to get Tony’s hair washed. He was cautious about pressing a hand to Tony’s brow to make sure no water got on Tony’s face, but Tony didn’t seem to care about the warm water being poured carefully through his hair. He just pinned the flashing boat to the bottom of the tub with his foot and grinned as the white bubble bath bubbles changed colors rapidly.

When Tony was as clean as he was going to get, Steve rested against the side of the tub and just watched him play. He was pretty sure the goofy smile on his face was a mile wide, but he couldn’t help it.

Then Tony turned to him and hesitantly offered one of the ducks, ducking his head with a shy, “Play with me, Daddy?”

“Of course, sweetpea.” Steve took the duck and put it under the water, then squeezed it again. Tony gasped when the resulting quack was much higher-pitched than before. He immediately copied Steve, pushing his duck under and making it quack, brown eyes lighting up with excitement.

Chapter Text

When the water started to go cold, Steve pulled the plug and wrapped a towel around Tony’s shoulders, briskly warming him up before Tony could get too chilled. Tony leaned into the touch, still holding onto one of the yellow ducks. He was wearing a little smile that Steve had never seen before: a quiet kind of contentment instead of the louder expressions of joy that Steve was used to associating with Tony Stark. It was like something special, private just for Steve, and he savored it as he scooped his baby boy up and went to get them both dressed.

Putting a fresh diaper on Tony was just as easy as last night. Tony still looked away, face flushing a little, but made no move to hide behind his stuffed animals. Steve was quickly becoming an expert, and when he was finished he helped Tony into a new set of pajamas. They were adorable, a black, one-piece set that unsnapped at the crotch and down the legs for easy access of diaper changes, but with fuzzy pink feet and a hood that could be pulled up. The hood even had two floppy kitty ears. He got a cross look for that one, but Tony didn’t protest.

While Steve was pulling on jeans and a t-shirt, Tony rolled off the bed and stood up. He was a little unsteady on his feet at first but recovered quickly, tucking his bear under one arm and the monkey under the other, still holding onto the yellow duck. He started towards the door. The diaper he was wearing widened his gait a little, forcing him to toddle out of the room. Steve watched him go and shook his head, momentarily awestruck with how much trust Tony was putting in him. Suddenly it seemed even more vital that he not betray it in any way.

He followed after a couple of minutes, noticing that Tony had found the small stash of toys Steve had bought. There really wasn’t much, because he wasn’t sure what would interest Tony – anything robotic or electronic just seemed like it would be asking for Tony to think of what could be done to improve it – but based on what he’d seen Tony playing with in the workshop, he’d picked up some Lego sets, a few toy cars and motorcycles, and a set of Avengers action figures that included a Loki figure to act as the villain. Tony zeroed in on those, unwrapping the figures with childish glee.

Steve reluctantly turned his attention to breakfast, frying up some scrambled eggs and toast. It was nice, he realized, to cook for more than just one person. Sometimes the effort it took to cook just for himself seemed a little silly, no matter how much he could eat in one sitting. A couple of times he and Bruce had cooked for all of the Avengers, but sometimes it was hard to get everyone at the table all at once. Even when they were all stationed at the tower, they were busy people.

But when he was cooking for Tony too, it didn’t seem like nearly as much work. He sprinkled some cheese over the eggs, idly thinking that he wasn’t restricted to kind of thing when they were playing. He could easily cook a meal and then bring it down to Tony at the workshop. It had never really occurred to him before to do that, and he wasn’t sure why. At first he’d assumed that Tony rarely surfaced because he was annoyed that the Avengers were living with him. But the past month had shown him that Tony really was that busy.

And at one time, Steve would have been able to identify with having so much to do that sleep and food felt inconsequential and fell to the wayside as a result. Not so much anymore, although there were times when the calls for the Avengers came back to back – and a few occasions when SHIELD had requested his expertise on a mission. But he could still remember what it was like during the war. It was a simple thing to make sure that Tony ate on a semi-regular basis. He resolved to do it more often.

He turned away from the stove, setting the eggs and buttered toast on the table. He was just in time to see Tony lifting the Hulk over the Loki figure and then bringing it down hard with a loud, “Smash! Hulk smash bad man! Smash!”

Steve laughed. “Is the Hulk teaching the bad man a lesson?” he asked, walking over to where Tony was sprawled on the floor.

“Captain ‘mercia beat the bad man,” Tony said, pointing to where the Captain America figure was standing with his shield proudly raised. Thor had been placed right beside it, hammer aloft. “Hulk is taking care of pun’ment.”

“Punishment,” Steve echoed, mouth twitching as he fought back a grin. “That’s a big job for just one Avenger. Don’t you think he needs help?”

Tony shook his head and hunched his shoulders, curling protectively around the Black Widow and Hawkeye figures. Steve frowned and looked around for the Iron Man figure, realizing that it had been abandoned by the coffee table, still in the original box. He retrieved it, prying the flimsy cardboard apart and pulling out Iron Man. The armor was more yellowy than gold under better lighting, and the crimson was a garish red that had made Tony complain for hours when he first saw the toy, but overall it wasn’t a bad representation.

“I bet Iron Man could help him,” Steve said, turning back to Tony.

“No,” Tony said.

“No?” That was not what Steve was expecting. He glanced down at the toy in his hands, wondering if playing with Iron Man toy would make it too hard for Tony to stay in his little headspace. But he didn’t seem to have any problem playing with the other figures.

Tony abruptly dropped the Hulk and stood up. “Hungry, Daddy.”

Frowning growing deeper, Steve took Iron Man with him as he followed Tony back into the kitchen. Tony sat in the same chair as last night and looked at the food expectantly. There was a sippy cup of orange juice and a bottle of milk set beside his plate, both of which he ignored entirely. Steve set Iron Man down next to them and took his own seat. This time, he put a small serving of eggs and a piece of toast on Tony’s plate and handed him a brightly colored, Captain America-themed fork.

Tony smiled at the sight of the fork, clutching it in his hand. He scooped up some eggs and shoveled them gracelessly into his mouth. Steve began eating his own meal, though he kept a thoughtful eye on Tony. He’d expected Tony to go straight for the Iron Man figure, and had even questioned whether or not it was worth buying the other Avenger toys as well. Now he was glad that he had, but it was strange that Tony didn’t want to play with Iron Man. He adored the suit and never shied away from telling people that Iron Man was the best.

But then, maybe that was the problem. It would be obvious to anyone who spent ten minutes with him and actually paid attention that Tony didn’t like himself very much. He made lots of jokes and smart comments, sure, but they were all spoken with an edge of self-deprecation – and he was slow to argue when someone insulted him, if he bothered to argue at all. Iron Man was a part of Tony: the best part, as far as Tony was concerned. Frankly sometimes Steve was surprised that Tony hadn’t concealed his identity to keep Iron Man’s reputation from being tarnished. Probably the only thing stopping him was how desperately starved for affection he was.

“Did you know that Iron Man is my favorite Avenger?” he asked after several minutes of comfortable silence.

The question earned him a quick glance from under lowered lashes, but Tony didn’t answer. He set his fork down and picked up his sippy cup.

“I think he’s really strong,” Steve continued, undaunted. “He never gives up. I said some things back when we first met that I shouldn’t have, and that was my fault. I was upset and took it out on the first person I saw who could stand up to me.” He shook his head a little, amazed at the actions of his past self. Instead of latching onto Tony as a source of comfort, he’d lashed out instead. Even more amazingly, Tony hadn’t thrown him out on his ass after the battle. Instead Tony had invited all of the Avengers into his home, no matter what he claimed about Fury forcing him.

He sighed, forcing his mind away from that. There were definitely some things that needed to be said and apologies that had to be made on both their parts, but now wasn’t the right time. That could wait until Tony was big again. Maybe they could go out to dinner again. Steve had liked that, spending time with Tony outside of the tower. Just the two of them with no preconceptions and no judgments, getting to know each other over a really good meal.

“Daddy?” Tony asked, sounding uncertain, and Steve started.

“Oh, sorry. I got lost in thought. Anyway. Iron Man is a really good person,” Steve said, casting the little toy a fond glance. “I bet if he were here, he’d want to play with you.”

Tony didn’t look convinced by that. “Iron Man wouldn’t want to be my friend.”

“Captain America does,” Steve pointed out. He did his best to draw lines in the sand when it came to him and the shield and uniform, but maybe Tony needed a reminder of just who was sitting here at the table with him. For once, maybe the ridiculous legend that had built up around Captain America would help instead of hinder. “I want to be your friend more than anything else right now.”

Maybe Tony could hear the sincerity in his voice, because he didn’t try to argue. He drank the rest of his orange juice and picked through the remains of his meal. Steve didn’t push him. He could tell that Tony was getting sleepy. The bath, playtime and food had worn him out enough to need a nap, even though it was just after six in the morning, but Steve knew better than to say as much. Baby or not, it would be a cold day in hell before Tony willingly went down for a nap.

He finished his own breakfast and set the dishes in the sink to be cleaned later, when the twenty-four hours were up and Tony went back to the workshop. Then he picked Tony up, balancing him with one arm, and grabbed the bottle with his free hand. Tony was yawning already, though he was making a valiant attempt to hide it. Steve hid a smile as he carried Tony back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed.

It was a little awkward at first, but he managed to get them both settled comfortably against some pillows at the head of the bed. He wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulders and offered him the bottle. Tony pouted, cheeks pink, as he reluctantly opened his mouth, like this was the absolute last thing in the world that he wanted to do. But as soon as the bottle was actually in his mouth, he drank with an endearing amount of enthusiasm, cheeks hollowing as he sucked at the milk.

In less than fifteen minutes, the bottle was empty and Tony was sound asleep. Steve pulled him close, looking up at the ceiling of his bedroom and listening to the soft sound of Tony’s breathing. He’d let Tony sleep as long as he needed, and then if there was any time left, they’d play some more. He couldn’t wait to introduce Tony to finger painting – he was pretty sure that, messy as it would be, Tony would have a blast. When he felt comfortable, he definitely had a streak of mischief.

The real question, and one that Steve couldn’t stop worrying about, was whether or not Tony would be willing to let that happen, or whether this was the last time Steve would have the chance to watch his baby boy sleep.

Chapter Text

Tony didn't want to get up. From the moment he woke up to the feel of Steve's hand lightly shaking him, he wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. But he couldn't. He'd slept most of the day away, and it was time to go back to being adult Tony with all the responsibilities that included - which, at this point, meant that he had exactly half an hour before Pepper would be trolling the halls, ready to connect his ass with the end of her stilettos if that's what it took to get him moving.

"It's okay," Steve murmured when Tony let out a dissatisfied grumble. He squeezed Tony's shoulder gently, then straightened up. "Take all the time you need, okay? I'm here if you need me. Do you want me to stay, or..." He trailed off when Tony shook his head and quickly backed off. The next time Tony lifted his head and blinked blearily at the room, Steve was gone and he was alone, sprawled all over Steve's bed in a pair of boxers and nothing else. He also only had fifteen minutes remaining.

He pushed himself up slowly, realizing that for once he didn’t feel the need to hide away from Pepper. There had to be about a million things on his to do list by now – and that probably wasn’t much of an exaggeration – but for once the usual stress and panic at the thought of the ever expanding list wasn’t present. He still didn’t relish the thought of flying halfway across the world just to waste his time on a bunch of meetings, but he could accept the inevitable. And maybe Pepper would be in a halfway decent mood if she didn’t have to track him down for once.

There was some folded clothing at the end of his bed. Not the clothes he’d been wearing last night, but a fresh pair of jeans and the kind of muscle shirt he usually wore in the workshop. Tony swiped them off the bed and went into the bathroom. It was just a little disorienting to use the bathroom again, especially when, after he was finished washing his hands, he looked at the bathtub and remembered being bathed by Steve about six hours ago.

On the one hand, it was embarrassing to think that Steve had seen him like that. He’d been totally caught up in the moment, focused only on playing with the (really cool) toys that Steve had bought for him, and not paying attention to the fact that he was being washed. Tony stepped closer to the tub, reaching out to touch the hanging basket of drying toys. He wondered where Steve would put them in between uses, or if Steve would bother to put them away at all – maybe he’d just leave them hanging there all the time, waiting for Tony.

Because on the other hand, he kind of liked the thought of those toys being there. It was a solid reminder for both him and Steve, though Tony certainly wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon. And the past twenty-fours had been… nice. Like a vacation, except not, because the vacations that Tony was used to still involved a lot of work because he didn’t have the luxury of being able to just disappear for weeks or even days at a time. He couldn’t remember the last time that work, even if it was just the suit, hadn’t been on his mind in some way. Probably not since Afghanistan, and wasn’t that just pathetic?

Though it hadn’t been much of a vacation for Steve. He’d been the one doing all the work. Had he enjoyed it? Or was it more than he’d expected to sign himself up for? Tony got dressed quickly, wondering if he could just slip out the front door so as not to get an answer to that question. But it didn’t work. The instant he opened the bedroom door to step out, Steve’s head snapped up from where he was sitting on the couch. He had his sketchbook open on his knee, but he closed it and stood up.

“I have to -” Tony started, gesturing at the door.

“I know. Apparently Pepper’s already looking for you,” Steve said with a small smile. He came closer. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Tony dropped his gaze, not daring to look at Steve’s face, and found himself looking instead at Steve’s bare feet. They were very nice feet, strong and tanned.

“Tony. Please look at me?”

Reluctantly, Tony dragged his eyes up. “What?”

The hand touching the side of his face was so unexpected Tony jerked back out of reach. Steve waited for him to settle, eyes silently asking for permission that Tony gave with a nod, before he did it again, cupping Tony’s cheek. He stepped even closer, and then he did the one thing that Tony couldn’t have anticipated no matter how many scenarios he pictured: Steve leaned down and kissed him gently on the forehead.

“Steve?” Tony whispered.

“Thank you,” Steve said quietly, like the words were something intimate and meant for Tony’s ears alone. “This was… I liked it. If you want to do it again…”

It was an unspoken question, and Tony couldn’t resist answering. “I don’t see why you liked it. I was the one who got to sit back and do nothing.”

Steve chuckled. “I don’t know if you’ve met me, but sitting back and doing nothing isn’t exactly what I’m good at,” he pointed out, blue eyes bright with amusement. “I like taking care of people. Most of the time I only get to do that by being an Avenger, and even then it’s just by taking down threats. I don’t actually get to interact with anyone. Call me impatient, but I like being able to focus on you and having an immediate result. The memory of you falling asleep in my arms last night is something I’ll treasure forever.”

Annoyingly, Tony blushed immediately. It was something he would treasure too, but he didn’t think he could admit it. He wanted to look away, but Steve’s hand kept him from doing so. He cleared his throat and finally managed to mumble, “Yeah, okay.”

“You want to do it again? You’re okay with being a baby?”

“Could you not put it like that?” Tony said, officially crossing the line into mortified.

“How would you like me to put it, then?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You could – jesus!” Tony jumped when his phone rang. He’d forgotten that he had turned the volume up all the way.

A moment later, JARVIS said, “Sir, Miss Potts would like to know where you are and says, quote, you have five minutes to make yourself presentable or she’s coming to find you, and if she has to come find you then she’s going to leave you to handle the CEO of Comcour by yourself, unquote.”

Now that was a threat. Tony shuddered a little, though he wasn’t exactly disappointed by the escape route. “Sorry, duty calls,” he said, ducking around Steve and beating a hasty retreat to the door.

“Tony.”

Steve’s voice, and the still unanswered question, stopped him right before he would’ve slipped out. Tony paused, wrestling with himself. He shouldn’t. But he wanted it so much. Now that Steve had shown him what it could be like, playing with toys by himself would never be enough. So he might as well enjoy it while he could before Steve got sick of it, right? There was no harm in indulging as long while Steve was willing to stick around. He was already well and truly screwed, so why not?

“Yeah,” he said, and it was just a little easier to make that admission without the weight of Steve’s eyes on him, “Yeah, I – when I come back. Okay?”

“Okay. Have a good trip,” Steve said. Tony would’ve paid a lot of money to have known what was going on in Steve’s mind at that moment, but he didn’t turn around long enough to check. He left, walking quickly to the elevator and taking it down to the main floor where Pepper was waiting for him.

Fortunately she wasn’t too miffed by the fact that he was a few minutes late – and really, for Tony, that was as good as being right on time – and the mood in the limo wasn’t too strained as they drove to the airport. It was probably the first time since they’d broken up that Tony wasn’t dwelling on how their relationship had ended; instead, his mind was too full of thoughts about Steve and last night, and in particular how nice it was to fall asleep to the sight of Steve’s affectionate smile.

Pepper kept casting him curious looks, but she was patient enough to bide her time until they were actually on the plane and in relative privacy. Once the flight attendant had served them both a drink and disappeared into the back, she fixed Tony with her most scrutinizing look and asked, “What’s going on?”

“What?” Tony said, genuinely startled, and blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen you like this. You’re so… calm.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tony muttered, even though he kind of did. As much as it sucked to have to get out of bed and leave, especially after that little conversation with Steve, it hadn’t erased the lingering sense of contentment. Things with Steve had just been so peaceful.

“Oh really,” Pepper said skeptically. “And I bet it has nothing to do with the fact that JARVIS told me you were with Steve when you didn’t answer my call earlier.”

“He what?” Tony squeaked. JARVIS was under strict orders to tell no one what he and Steve had been up to on pain of being immediately donated to MIT. But now that he thought about it, he realized he’d forgotten to specify that JARVIS shouldn’t tell anyone he was with Steve at all. Just how many people were walking around thinking that he and Steve had spent the night together under a completely different context? He fought the urge to drop his head into his hands and groan at his own stupidity.

Not that he would have minded spending that kind of night with Steve. The guy was stupidly gorgeous, after all, and there were times when Tony realized he hadn’t grown out of his crush on Captain America as much as he’d initially thought he had. But obviously it wasn’t true, and there were certain Avengers (Clint and Natasha) who would tease them endlessly. Not to mention what would happen if the media found out. Steve’s pretty much flawless reputation would be irreparably tarnished.

Pepper raised her eyebrows, but she was smiling. “Tony, it’s okay. I’m not upset or anything like that. To be honest, I wondered when this would happen.”

Tony gaped at her. “… What?”

She shrugged. “All that bickering between the two of you back when you first met… the sexual tension was pretty high, I have to admit. I was actually a little surprised you didn’t approach him before, but then I thought maybe you were doing that thing where you think you’re not good enough for anyone…”

“Pep, I’m not good enough for him –”

“That’s ridiculous -”

“ - he’s Captain America –”

“ – he’d be lucky to have you -”

“ – and I don’t think he’d be interested -”

“ – and I’ve seen the way he looks at you -”

“ – because it’s not like that!”

“ – and you’re just being too stubborn and pigheaded to see it,” Pepper finished. “Don’t run away just because you spent the night together, Tony. I don’t think Steve is the kind of guy to go for a one night stand. When he does something, he puts his whole heart into it.”

“It’s not like that,” Tony repeated weakly, trying to ignore the way her words made his heart skip a couple of beats.

Pepper didn’t look convinced, and as she turned back to her notes for the meetings she couldn’t resist one last parting shot. “Well, maybe it should be.”

Chapter Text

The first night that Tony spent away from the tower (that wasn’t on an airplane over the ocean), it was close to three in the morning before he finally got back to his hotel room. He wasn’t planning to go to bed, because the CEO he and Pepper had met with had sprung a wealth of changes on them, and they had a lot to review before the meetings began again at 9am sharp. He had settled into the desk chair, and Pepper had a bunch of papers sprawled all over the bed, and it was 4am when his phone rang.

Pepper paused mid-sentence and tilted her head in unspoken query. Tony raised an eyebrow in response and slowly took his phone out. It was amazing how a twenty hour plane ride, a full day of meetings and most of a night awake had zapped all of his earlier energy. He blamed that on the weird jolt of emotion he felt when he saw Steve’s picture on the screen of his phone. He wasn’t even sure what time it was in New York, but the fact that Steve was calling at all seemed somehow momentous.

It was more than enough to freeze him into shock, and he just sat there and stared dumbly at the phone until it stopped. Only then did he consider that he really should have answered. The only logical reason for Steve to call would be if the Avengers were under attack, but that was unlikely, as Tony was far enough away that he wouldn’t be of much help, and if things were going badly enough that the fight would still be going even when he got back, then they were in trouble.

“Is that Steve?” Pepper asked, and Tony looked up, startled, having forgotten that she was even in the room. She smiled at whatever expression was on his face and sat up, stretching. She’d kicked her shoes off and let her hair down from the bun she’d been wearing it in earlier, and the crisp lines of her suit were wrinkled. She’d never looked so beautiful, and the swell of affection he felt for her at that moment was unmistakable.

“How did you know?” he found himself asking, instead of shoving his phone in his pocket and pretending that the moment had never happened, which is what he should have done. He had no special ringtone set up for Steve yet, so he wasn’t sure how she’d guessed. His phone started to ring again and he jumped, nearly knocking it out of his hands entirely. Pepper laughed at him, though not unkindly.

“Oh, Tony. I saw that look enough times while we were dating to know what it means. I’ll go. It would be nice to get at least a couple hours of sleep before more meetings. It might actually give me the patience to not start yelling at people tomorrow.” She stretched as she stood up, her arms one long line over her head, before she sighed and slipped her heels back on. “Answer your phone before Steve thinks something is wrong. Much as it might make these idiots see reason, it’s probably not a good idea to have Captain America burst in on the middle of a meeting.”

Tony made a face at her back as she walked out of the room and answered the phone. “Steve? What’s wrong?”

There was a split second of hesitation on the other end, and then Steve said, “Tony? What do you mean, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just –” Tony made himself stop talking before he said something stupid. The last thing Steve needed to know was that his first thought was to be unsure as to why else Steve would be calling.

“Oh. No, nothing’s wrong. I was just making something to eat and I thought I’d call to see how you’re doing. I know it’s late where you are, but I figured you’d still be up.” Steve sounded torn between amused and admonishing.

“Pep and I had meetings all day,” Tony said, relaxing a little now that he knew for certain all was well. He took another glance down at the desk, which was still covered in papers that needed attention, and gave up. He got up, taking a few seconds to stretch, and added tiredly, “And we’ve got them all day tomorrow too, and probably most of Tuesday and Wednesday. Maybe even Thursday.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“Life of a genius playboy billionaire philanthropist not all it's cracked up to be, Cap?” Tony asked, switching his phone to speaker and dropping it on the bed. Then he followed, face-planting onto the pillows. Paper crinkled under him and he huffed in frustration, scrabbling around until he’d created a little nest in the midst of it all.

“I already knew that,” said Steve. “Are you lying down? If you’ve been awake all this time, you need to sleep.”

“Yes Daddy,” Tony muttered, and it was meant to be a sarcastic remark – though lighthearted, just poking fun at Steve’s propensity to be a mother hen – but in the wake of those twenty-four hours, it came out weighed much more heavily than Tony wanted. The silence suddenly seemed tense, and he pressed his face into the pillow to hide a groan because now he’d ruined it.

“Is that what you need right now?” Steve asked finally, and of course, there was no judgment in his voice. If Tony said yes, Steve would switch seamlessly into Daddy mode. His voice would take on that cadence that was not quite Captain America level of firmness but close, with a layer of affection that never failed to make Tony’s chest feel warm, and he would probably tell Tony to get up and get changed and brush his teeth like a good little boy before bedtime.

Even though the thought of getting up again was impossible, that wasn’t why Tony shook his head. “No. Can you just… talk to me?” He blushed as soon as he said it, registering how stupid the request sounded, but it was too late to take it back. It was just… now that Pepper was gone, the hotel room was really quiet.

“Of course,” Steve said, like that wasn’t weird at all. “I did some training with Clint and Natasha this morning. Them against me. It’s interesting to see the way they work together. It’s so fluid. You can tell they’ve trained together for years. I think if we could get the rest of the team to that level, we’d be unbeatable.”

“Don’t think I’m capable of being a ninja,” Tony mumbled, relaxing further into the bed.

Steve chuckled. “I’m not asking you to be one. But I do think you need to start attending more training sessions, and maybe we can figure out a way to contact Thor and see if he’s willing to come back to Earth for a while. It would just give us more of an edge in the field if we could anticipate each other’s moves the way Clint and Natasha can."

Tony made a noncommittal sound, which prompted another warm laugh, and just listened as Steve went on to describe the training session in detail. He liked listening to the sound of Steve’s voice. It wasn’t overly deep, but smooth. Every once in a while a hint of a Brooklyn accent seeped through, roughening the edges of his vowels, and Tony smiled sleepily to himself each time. That’s how he knew Steve was comfortable with this, with talking, because otherwise there would’ve been no such hint.

He fell asleep somewhere in between Steve detailing how Natasha had kicked Clint’s legs out from under him, and woke up to Pepper’s knock on the door five hours later. Tony pushed himself up, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. A headache pulsed at his temples, a clear sign that his body was begging for more sleep, but he ignored it. “I’m up, Pep,” he called, squinting.

“You’ve got half an hour. There’s coffee and breakfast downstairs,” Pepper answered, sounding as exhausted as Tony felt.

“Coffee might be worth moving for,” Tony muttered, realizing that he could still hear something. It was almost inaudible, but it sounded kind of like the news. He cocked his head, zeroing in on his phone. Which was not only still on, but the call was still connected. “Steve?”

“Good morning,” Steve said. “Did you sleep well?”

“Did you talk to me all night?” Tony said, astonished.

“Not all night. I finally figured out that you’d fallen asleep. I was going to hang up, but I wasn’t sure if you’d need me.” Steve hesitated for a split second before adding, “I wasn’t sure if you had nightmares away from home.”

Oh god. Tony dropped his face into his hands, embarrassed down to the tips of his toes. So far his nightmares, especially the ones that resulted in soiled bed linen, were mostly confined to the tower – probably because when he was away, he rarely got the chance to grab more than an hour or two of sleep. He tried not to think too closely about waking up crying and wanting, needing Steve, and having to be content with his voice alone. It was too much like those rare times he’d spoken on the phone with his mother and father when he was little.

“Tony?”

“No. No nightmares,” Tony managed to squeak, still covering his face. “That’s… oh my god, Steve, I can’t believe you just listened to me sleep all night.” He couldn’t decide if that was creepy or sweet.

“You don’t snore, if that’s what you were wondering,” Steve replied. He was laughing.

“Oh my god,” Tony muttered again. “Wait. Isn’t it like… midnight or something there?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re watching the news when you should be sleeping? Pot kettle black.”

“Unlike some people, I don’t push myself to my limits unless it’s necessary. I can afford to stay up late every once in a while. Besides, I couldn’t sleep.”

Tony paused, the half-smile sliding from his face. “Do you… usually have trouble sleeping?”

“Sometimes,” Steve said quietly. “Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about, you know. Before. About Peggy and Bucky and the war, and all the things I could’ve changed if I’d been there. And sometimes it’s just too cold, no matter how warm JARVIS makes my room. If I fall asleep then, I wake up shivering and thinking that I’m back inside the ice. Listening to your breathing last night…” He trailed off, sounding sheepish. “It just made me think that I wasn’t alone. Sorry.”

There was a lump in Tony’s throat that was making it really hard to swallow, never mind talk. He stared down at the phone, which had a picture of Steve’s face on it. He hadn’t thought to put it on video last night. Maybe he should have. It was too late now, but… “Don’t apologize. I can, uh. Leave it on today, if you want. So you can listen. I mean, you’ll have to stay quiet and all you’re gonna hear is a bunch of idiots talking out of their asses, but let’s face it: that’s enough to put anyone to sleep.”

“Are you sure? Won’t that cost a lot?”

“Hello, billionaire,” Tony quipped with none of usual enthusiasm, because his racing heart was doing weird things in his chest. “Besides… I don’t mind.”

“Okay. Thanks, Tony.”

“No problem.” Tony say there for a moment longer, wrestling with himself, and finally got up the nerve to say, “Steve? If you need, um, my… my teddy bear and Hawk give really good hugs.” His face was on fire and he couldn’t even look at the phone now, staring at the bed instead. “If you need them.”

Steve’s voice broke a little when he repeated, “Thanks, Tony.”

“It’s nothing.” He got up then, too embarrassed to stay sitting, and quickly did what he could to make himself look halfway presentable. Pepper knocked on the door again just as he finished putting his tie on. Right before he went out the door, he grabbed the phone, making sure that they were still connected – four hours, thirty-six minutes, eight seconds and counting – and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket.

Chapter Text

It was one of those rare, slow nights when most of the team was at the tower, but in spite of that Steve hadn’t initiated a team dinner or movie; after lunch, he sat down on the couch with his sketchpad and some movie playing in the background. The next time he looked up from a detailed sketch of Iron Man, Natasha was sitting on the couch beside him and the characters on the television were kissing heavily in between bouts of talking in a foreign language, possibly Chinese. He didn’t bother to ask.

Slowly but surely, Bruce, face buried in a book, and then Clint wandered in. Coulson joined them a couple hours later, after he was done work at SHEILD for the day, curling into the chair beside Clint. Somehow they made sharing a chair that was definitely not meant for two grown men look easy. Steve envied them, particularly when Natasha slid gracefully off the couch and sprawled out on the floor with her head on Coulson’s thigh, but he tried not to let it show.

Sometime after Bruce had called in an order of pizza for them, Steve heard the elevator doors opening. A few minutes later, JARVIS paused the movie and turned the lights on without being asked. Steve glanced over his shoulder and was a little surprised to see Tony and Pepper standing in the doorway. Tony looked like a zombie, face pale and eyes glazed, but he was still glued to his phone. Pepper, on the other hand, was as put together as ever. With her, it was always the smallest things – a few tendrils of hair out of place, the squint she’d developed, the wrinkle in her skirt – that meant she was exhausted.

“Long trip?” Natasha asked as she sat up, languidly stretching one leg out in front of her.

“The longest,” Pepper said wearily, guiding Tony into the room. She pushed him down on the couch beside Steve. “I leave him in your capable hands. Hopefully you can pry his phone away from him. He hasn’t looked up for more than two minutes at a time in the past seventeen hours.”

“You’re late,” Steve said, not meaning it to sound like an accusation, as he glanced at Tony. They’d been due back Thursday. It was Sunday night. And from what he’d overheard during those meetings – basically a lot of bickering over tiny, stupid things, a lot of complaining about Tony and the company’s stock, and just a lot of whining in general, really - both of them had to be ready to collapse. It really had almost been boring enough to put Steve to sleep every night, and probably would have if the collective attitude hadn’t pissed him off so much. Neither Tony nor Pepper deserved to put up with that.

Pepper just shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Idiots. No matter how many times you explain something to them, they keep coming up with the same question phrased just a little bit differently. Even now, I’m positive they think we’re lying.”

“So long as you have the contracts signed, it doesn’t matter what they think,” Coulson pointed out, and Pepper graced him with a tired smile.

“You’re right, but that doesn’t make me feel any better,” she said. “It was more of a fight than it should have been, but I’m too tired right now to analyze it anymore. If I see one more contract, my head is going to explode.”

Natasha extended a hand to her. Pepper looked at her for a moment before she took it, allowing Natasha to pull her down on the carpet. She kicked her shoes off with a sigh of relief. Steve quickly looked away, flushing, when she started taking her pantyhose off too. He focused on Tony, wondering if Tony even realized that they’d left the plane. Now that he was getting a closer look, Tony had that manic glint in his eyes that meant he was deep in the middle of inventing something.

“The movie please, JARVIS,” Coulson said, settling back into the chair with Clint.

“Certainly, Agent Coulson,” JARVIS said.

As the lights dimmed again and the movie started to play, Steve kept sneaking glances at Tony. He wanted to put an arm around Tony’s shoulders and pull him a little closer, the way Coulson and Clint were sitting. But they weren’t age playing right now, and they hadn’t discussed whether their interactions could or should change in front of the team. He and Tony didn’t usually touch much. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Tony by crossing a line; he was enjoying the age playing too much to take that risk.

Besides, he wasn’t really interested in age playing right now. It was nice to be here with the team, watching a movie and eating pizza. He was pretty sure at some point Clint would get up and make popcorn, and Steve didn’t want to miss that. Obviously he and Tony couldn’t age play in front of the others, so he should keep his hands to himself. There was no reason why he should want to wrap an arm around Tony when they were sitting here side by side, two adults, two friends.

Though, this had to be hard on Tony’s eyes. It was dark in the room except for the bright screens, and Pepper had said he’d been on his phone for seventeen hours. He had to be as tired as Pepper was, but knowing Tony he’d push himself to the absolute limit before he would stop. Steve carefully reached out and tried to take the phone. Tony’s grip tightened instantly and he mumbled something that sounded vaguely like ‘Pepper don’t’. Steve couldn’t help the fond smile.

“It’s not Pepper, Tony,” he whispered, not letting go of the phone. “It’s me, Steve. You’re back home again. Can you look at me?”

It took a little while for the words to register, it seemed, but slowly Tony’s face turned towards him. He blinked a couple of times, and one hand released the phone to come up and rub his eyes. “Steve?”

“Hi,” Steve said gently.

“When did you get here?”

“You’re the one who came to me, remember? Pepper brought you here? We’re all watching a movie?”

Tony frowned and looked at the rest of the room to take in the rest of their friends. Steve took the opportunity to slide the phone out of his limp hand and into his pocket. He’d give it back tomorrow, after Tony got some sleep. He stayed still, watching Tony stare blankly at the television, wondering how busy Tony would be for the next couple of days. Most times he ran off to his workshop until JARVIS locked him out, but after a week like this maybe Tony would want to age play to settle down some.

“Steve,” Tony said finally, like he’d come to some sort of conclusion, and flexed his fingers. He frowned. “Did you take my phone?”

“Yes. You need to sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “I’ll make you a deal. If you can close your eyes for five minutes and stay awake, I’ll swear in front of the media.” It was something Tony had been trying to get him to do for months. Apparently he thought the backlash would be hilarious, even though it would get them both in trouble with Fury and, at least in Tony’s case, Pepper.

“Deal.” Tony smiled smugly and shut his eyes. Steve tensed in surprise when Tony leaned against him, a solid line of warmth from thigh to shoulder. He relaxed immediately, not wanting Tony to think that he didn’t like or want the contact, and looked back at the screen. The movie had been interesting until Tony and Pepper arrived, but now all he could think about was Tony.

“You wanna play tomorrow?” he asked, the words quiet enough that he knew for certain only Tony would hear, and registered the feel of a head sleepily nodding against his bicep. It took effort to keep his face schooled and not start smiling like an idiot. Maybe Tony had only agreed because he was half asleep, but it was still something.

Predictably, in less than two minutes, Tony’s breathing had evened out and he was completely asleep. Steve glanced down at him and shook his head, easing his arm out from between them so that Tony was settled against him more comfortably. The only logical place for him to put his arm was around Tony’s shoulders. Since Tony had instigated the contact in the first place Steve didn’t hesitate, settling his arm into place. It felt good to sit there and hold Tony while he slept.

Or at least, it did until he looked up from Tony and realized that the whole room was staring at him.

“Something you guys want to share with the group?” Bruce asked.

Steve flushed. “No, not really.”

“That’s okay. I’m pretty sure we can draw our own conclusions,” Clint muttered, looking for too amused for Steve’s taste. He detangled himself from Coulson, standing up and stretching. “Anyone for popcorn?”

He headed into the kitchen amidst a chorus of agreement. Coulson got up a moment later to go help, though usually that meant they’d make out in the kitchen for half an hour before coming back with popcorn. Steve settled back against the couch, refusing to pay any attention to the way Pepper and Natasha exchanged knowing grins. The team could think whatever they wanted so long as they never found out the truth. That was something just for him and Tony.

Eventually Clint and Coulson did come back with the popcorn, and they made it through another movie before people started drifting away. Pepper went first, yawning widely behind her hand, and Bruce followed her not long after. Clint and Coulson left together. Natasha stood up like she was going to follow, but she paused in front of the kitchen and waited until Steve reluctantly met her gaze. Much to his surprise, there was no teasing or mocking in her face and she didn’t say a word. She just smiled at him approvingly and then walked out.

“Sometimes I swear she knows everything,” Steve muttered to Tony, shifting out from under Tony’s body. Tony whined in sleepy protest, trying to cling tighter. Steve shook his head, amused, and effortlessly scooped him up. He knew he’d never get tired of the way Tony instinctively curled into him.

The elevator took them right up to Steve’s floor. He stepped out and carried Tony into the bedroom, where he set Tony down on the bed and shook him gently. “Tony, wake up.”

“Nooooo,” Tony groaned, turning his head away. “Go ‘way.”

“Tony,” Steve said. “You need to take a shower. You’re filthy.” He could smell the sweat and dust from the long plane ride, and he knew Tony would sleep a lot better if he showered first.

“I’m tired.” Tony opened his eyes just a little and pouted. “Please, Daddy, I don’t wanna take a shower.”

“How about a bath?” Steve suggested, knowing when he was beaten, because Tony just looked too cute with his big brown eyes.

“Sleepy,” Tony mumbled, shaking his head.

“You’re getting a bath, sweetheart,” Steve decided. He carefully unbuttoned the shirt Tony was wearing, but left it on while he removed Tony’s shoes and socks. He tugged Tony’s pants and boxers down and off, then pulled Tony into a seated position to fully take off his shirt. Tony was completely limp, letting Steve do whatever he wanted, and seemed to just barely have the strength to wrap his arms around Steve’s neck again when Steve picked him back up to take his baby in for a warm bath.

Chapter Text

Tony had to pee, but he was comfortable. It was a problem, especially since getting up would mean he’d feel compelled to check his phone, and then he’d have to answer any pressing messages and check in with JARVIS, and then it would just turn into one thing after another until it was four in the afternoon and he’d never actually made it back to bed. Not that that had happened more than once or twice in his lifetime. Maybe a dozen at the most, if he ignored the fact that Rhodey had spent much of their university years dragging him back to bed on the theory that three hours wasn’t enough sleep.

He rolled over onto his side, belatedly realizing that he wasn’t alone in the bed. Steve was sleeping beside him. Tony blinked at him for a lazy few seconds. They’d kept in closer contact while Tony was gone than he’d expected, and it had been… nice. Even nicer was the surprisingly warm reception last night, which admittedly Tony only vaguely remembered, but the two of them had ended up here in bed. And… he squirmed a little to check. Yep, diaper in place.

So technically, he didn’t need to get up to pee if he didn’t want to. He pondered this development as he located his teddy bear. His monkey was pinned under Steve’s left arm, so Tony settled for wrapping his arms around his bear and waiting. It was far from the first time that he’d wet himself. But it was the first time that he’d ever thought about doing it while awake. He wasn’t sure it was the right choice to make. This was a big step. Only babies peed in diapers. Tony wasn’t a big boy anymore if he did this on his own, without Steve to blame it on.

His face felt hot. His stomach was aching. He shivered a little, biting his lip, and finally slipped his thumb into his mouth. He sucked furiously as he curled into a little ball, realizing that it wasn’t as easy as he’d thought to just relax and let go. It was automatic to clamp down and try to hold it. He couldn’t help pressing his thighs together, like that might be enough, and he kind of wanted to wake Steve up and ask for some help, to make sure that it was okay, that all of his doubts (what if Steve got mad? What if the diaper didn’t hold it all?) were wrong.

But he didn’t. He waited until he absolutely couldn’t wait any longer, his bladder bursting, and whimpered quietly when the first spurt of pee escaped. It was just a tiny one; he managed to clamp down again for just a second or two, breathing through it, before he couldn’t hold it anymore and the rest followed. Tony squeezed his eyes shut as the wet heat soaked into his diaper, a rush of heady relief flowing through him. He relaxed as the flow came to an end, but couldn’t resist reaching down to make sure the bed was still dry.

It was. The diaper had caught it all. He sagged against the bed, elated, and sucked lightly at his thumb. His eyes were still shut and he must have drifted a little, because the next thing he knew someone was picking him up and setting him down on something crinkly. Before he had the chance to complain the wet diaper was pulled off, and he wiggled in relief. It hadn’t been too bad at first, but then it wasn’t so enjoyable when the pee cooled and turned unpleasantly damp.

He also realized that he had to pee again. Tony opened his eyes, peering up through the dark at his daddy. He didn’t think Steve knew he was awake, because Steve was humming very softly and not talking the way he usually did. He waited until a fresh diaper had been put on and then, with a soft grunt, let himself start peeing again. It was much easier this time around, like his body had just needed that one time to understand that it was okay. He didn’t pee much, but it was enough for the line on the diaper to turn blue.

Steve paused then. He looked down at the diaper, then slipped a finger inside to check. He must have seen that Tony’s eyes were open, because he said, “Did you do that on purpose?”

Because he didn’t sound angry, more amused than anything, Tony just grinned around his thumb. Steve chuckled to himself and removed the diaper. It still felt a little strange and embarrassing to be like this in front of Steve, half naked and being touched in a way that was deeply intimately but not sexual in the slightest, but it felt good too. He liked being able to lay back and do nothing, and his daddy was very gentle as he cleaned Tony up again, then put another diaper on.

“There. All clean,” Steve said, helping Tony back up to the pillows and then tidying away the mess. He took the two soiled diapers with him into the bathroom to be disposed of and returned after he had washed his hands. He came back over and crawled back into bed beside Tony.

Tony watched this process happen through heavily lidded eyes. He was sleepy, and the pillows were comfortable, and he was dry. He was pretty sure that Steve had gotten up just to change him, and that was weird but it was nice too. He yawned widely and let his thumb slip from his mouth in favor of grabbing his teddy and his hawk and pulling them both against his chest. Then Steve started rubbing his back, soothing away the rest of the tension. He fell asleep in no time.

The sound of voices woke him up again. It only took him a second to register the voices as that of Steve and Pepper. He froze at first, fear and panic instantly dissolving the lingering feelings of sleepiness, but even as he bolted upright he realized that Pepper had to be on the phone – though she would be the only person in the world, aside from maybe Phil Coulson, who was capable of showing up for work the next day after a week like that. Sure enough, the only other person in the room was Steve. He smiled at Tony and held a finger to his lips in a silent bid for Tony to remain quiet.

“That sounds fine, Pepper. I’ll let him know,” Steve said.

“Thanks, Steve,” Pepper said, and she really did sound grateful. And harried. Definitely at work then.

Steve must have been thinking the same thing, because he said, “Are you taking some vacation time too? I know how busy you are, but that doesn’t mean your health doesn’t count and you looked pretty tired last night. I’m not above sending Natasha out on a mission to escort you home, and you and I both know she’ll do it.”

Pepper laughed a little. “That’s not necessary. I’m leaving as soon as I finish up a few more things.”

“Right,” Steve said, sounding skeptical, and, bless the man, the second he and Pepper hung up he asked JARVIS to put him through to Natasha. Natasha sounded scarily intrigued by the idea of liberating Pepper from her desk at Stark Industries. Tony, picturing all of the employees who were looking increasingly likely to end up with some kind of PTSD after today, grimaced. Steve caught his expression as he ended the call with Natasha.

“Now, now, none of that. Pepper says you’re on vacation for the next three days, citing burn out and a possible nervous breakdown,” he said, to which Tony frowned in affront. “You’re free to spend your vacation however you want, but if you’d like you’re more than welcome to spend it here with me.”

Tony thought about it. Vacation wasn’t something that he or Pepper got a lot of. In the past he usually took what little vacation time he got as far away from work as he could. And that was an option this time too, of course: Tony had plenty of private islands and secluded getaways he could go to. Except that he always got bored by himself, so those kinds of vacations never ended well: most of the time, he ended up on the cover of the newspapers for the next scandal on a long list of scandals, and Pepper got pissed off at him.

What Steve was offering sounded a lot better. A chance to actually, genuinely relax and not think about work or SHIELD or the Avengers, because he would still be here if anything went wrong. It was just his mind that would be going on vacation – and it would definitely be a vacation, because age play had always been the one thing that made his brain switch off. Being with Steve was like cranking that up to a hundred. No stress, no worries, no responsibilities.

“J?” he said, not looking away from Steve.

“Miss Potts has cleared your schedule, young sir,” JARVIS said, and his voice had that odd, gentle note that only appeared when Tony was little. “She has also already spoken to Agent Coulson and informed him that you are not to be bothered for the next three days unless it is a, quote, life or death, New York is burning to the ground, Loki’s back level of emergency, unquote. You also have nothing immediately pressing; my latest diagnostic shows that the suit is ready and waiting should you have need of it.”

Tony relaxed a little. “Thanks. Are you…” He couldn’t look at Steve. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t. I think of it as a vacation for me too, to be honest.”

“Some vacation,” Tony muttered to himself. There was a reason he didn’t want kids; not only was there the multitude of daddy issues behind the curtains, he had a hard time seeing how it was fun to just spend your time taking care of someone else. But, if that was what Steve liked, he was hardly in a position to say anything. The longer Steve was willing to stick around, the more he would benefit.

He did look at Steve then, studying the wide, warm smile, and felt a strange lurch in the pit of his belly. Somehow he’d started trusting Steve without even noticing it. Even more then he usually did as a teammate. He swallowed back the accompanying flicker of panic and held his arms up instinctively. Steve responded instantly, moving to scoop him up off the bed and hold him close. Tony inhaled his scent – old fashioned cologne that had to be specially bought, coffee, a hint of the polish he used to shine his shield – and shamelessly cuddled closer still.

“I know,” Steve whispered in his ear, and god he had big arms and hands: big enough to make Tony feel tiny, fragile even, and for once in his life not hate those feelings. “I know, baby. It’s okay, Tony, I promise. We’re gonna get dressed in some old clothes and have something for breakfast, and then have some fun. Have you tried finger painting before?”

Slowly, Tony shook his head. “Never painted before,” he admitted.

“Ever?”

The astonishment in Steve’s voice made him squirm. He’d never gone to kindergarten – Howard claimed it was useless – and by the time he went to school, he was advanced enough to skip straight to grade four. And even when he was really little and stayed at home all day, Maria wouldn’t have tolerated something so messy. Maybe Jarvis or Aunt Peggy would’ve let him finger paint, but he’d never dared to ask. As an adult who age played, the thought of painting, never mind finger painting, had just never crossed his mind.

“Well, we’re gonna change that,” Steve said, already turning to look at the closet. “Just you wait, darlin'. You’re gonna have the time of your life.”

Chapter Text

They had a quiet breakfast of toast and porridge, with coffee for Steve and a bottle of apple juice for Tony. When they were both done eating, Steve cleared away the dishes while Tony drank the rest of his bottle. He was unusually subdued this morning, Steve noticed, and wasn’t sure whether he should be chalking it up to lingering fatigue or something else. Maybe he was still adjusting to the fact that Steve wanted this enough that he was willing to encourage it.

He didn’t push it, leaving the dishes to dry while he got things ready for their painting. He’d dropped by his favorite artist’s shop yesterday and picked up some supplies, notably a large piece of plastic that could cover the table and two aprons for him and Tony to protect their clothing. Tony watched with avid curiosity as Steve covered the table and then started setting out supplies: regular finger paint, glitter finger paint, and tempera paint, all in a variety of colors, plus some brushes, several different sizes and colors of paper, more glitter, and some cups of water.

“Time to put your bottle away for now,” Steve said, gently prying it out of Tony’s hands. He was a little surprised by how quickly Tony had taken to the bottle; he’d been expecting more resistance considering how much difficulty Tony was having adapting to the diapers. But he wasn’t going to protest. It was just too cute to watch Tony’s big brown eyes peering over the bottle.

“Paint?” Tony asked as Steve slipped the apron over his head and loosely tied it around his back. Then he put the second apron over Tony's head.

“That’s right, baby. We’re going to paint. All this paint is safe for babies to use,” Steve replied, nudging some of the finger paint a little closer. He’d deliberately set the brushes further away so that Tony wouldn’t be able to reach them. He wanted Tony to experience painting for the first time the way all little kids did. “You can use your fingers.”

Tony looked up at him, mouth twisted into a worried little frown. “But… Messy?”

“It’s okay.”

“Messy is bad,” Tony said uncertainly. “No mess. Starks don’t…” And then he went silent, chewing his lower lip, while Steve tried and failed at not getting furious.

God but he wanted to know what the hell Howard had been thinking. No wonder Tony’s workshop looked the way it did: organized chaos, with only Tony and JARVIS knowing where everything belonged. From the sound of it, he’d never been given the chance to be messy as a kid. Not without worrying about the possible repercussions, and Steve didn’t even want to start going down that path right now or he’d have to go work a fit of anger out in the gym.

He forced himself to exhale slowly and smile down at Tony, pretending that he didn’t notice the way Tony flinched a little when Steve moved to set a hand on his hand. That in itself spoke volumes about how Tony was feeling right now, and this was definitely something they would need to talk about again in the future – because Tony could say he wasn’t scared of Steve, and maybe he wasn’t, but when he was a baby he couldn’t seem to help being startled at sudden movements or unexpected hands around his face - but now wasn’t the time. He crouched down a little, figuring that being on the same level might help Tony feel more comfortable.

“Honey, the whole point of finger painting is so that you can get messy. That’s what I bought the plastic for. It will protect the table, and your apron will protect you. But even if you got paint all over the room and yourself and me, I wouldn’t care. I don’t mind washing our clothes, and we can both take a bath, and what can’t be washed doesn’t matter. I just want to see you having fun.”

When Tony still didn’t look convinced, Steve turned to the table. A jar of bright red finger paint was closest, and he dipped his index and middle fingers inside. The paint was cool and a little tacky, dripping from his fingers when he lowered his hand to the paper and made a giant circle. Using his thumb, he used the blue glitter paint to make a couple of eyes and a crooked grin. Squiggles of green paint, made with his pinkie and ringer fingers, served as the hair.

“There. What do you think? It’s Agent Coulson,” Steve said, admiring his effort. It was laughable, really: his finger painting wouldn’t be honored at the Met anytime soon. But he liked the feel of the paint on his fingers, and he liked the sight of the tiny smile on Tony’s face even more.

“Agent has no hair,” Tony pointed out.

“A younger Agent Coulson,” Steve amended, picking up Tony’s hand. Tony wrinkled his nose at the feel of the paint, but didn’t complain when Steve dipped his fingers in the red glitter paint and then made a big star on a different piece of paper. Together they drew a second, and when it was time for Tony to go back for more paint Steve quietly let go and sat back to watch.

He doubted Tony even noticed. His brown eyes were wide with excitement as he made more stars with the red paint. Steve smiled to himself and stood up, setting the rest of the jars within easy reach before he sat down in his own chair. He’d intended to try out some brushes, but finger painting was actually kind of fun. He couldn’t resist trying to make a sketch of Tony. It ended up turning out to be more abstract than he’d intended, because his fingers were too large for the kind of fine details he would’ve normally added, but it still looked good.

Tony, meanwhile, had moved on from stars and was now busily drawing a clawed contraption that Steve – after a moment of cocking his head – recognized as Dummy in purple. You and Butterfingers were added in bright green and orange, respectively. And then Tony grabbed a handful of yellow paint. He smeared it along the top of the picture, giggling to himself. Steve wasn’t sure what that was supposed to represent, until Tony added a shaky J in red, turning the wet yellow paint around it orange.

“Is that JARVIS?” Steve asked, instantly making the connection.

As though just now registering he wasn’t alone, Tony jumped. His cheeks flushed, and he dropped his eyes as he nodded shyly. “JARVIS,” he mumbled, pointing to the yellow.

“It’s beautiful, Tony. We should take it down and show Dummy, You and Butterfingers later. I bet they would be very excited to see your picture.”

“No,” Tony said, shaking his head. He started to stick his thumb in his mouth. Steve snagged his hand just in time, gently pulling his paint-covered hand away. The paint was nontoxic – the woman at the store had been extremely insistent on that when she found out Steve was planning on finger painting with a baby - but he doubted it would taste good.

“Why not? How come you don’t want to show them?”

Tony just shook his head again and started to bring his other thumb up. Again, Steve stopped him. He gently pressed Tony’s hands down, then got up and went looking for a pacifier. While he retrieved one from the cupboard, he wondered how to handle this bout of unexpected shyness. But then, Tony did seem to be unusually shy when he was a baby. Up till now Steve had chalked that up to uncertainty about his role based on his past, and that was definitely part of it (chances were Howard had not reacted well to anything creative Tony had done when he was little), but he needed to remember that this was a Tony with all of his shields down, worried that people wouldn’t like him or would leave him.

He returned to the table and offered the pacifier, which Tony immediately latched onto. As he sat down again, Steve said, “We don’t have to show it to anyone if you don’t want to. But it is a really nice picture, and your ‘bots adore you. I’m sure they would love it, just like JARVIS does. Right JARVIS?”

“Indeed,” JARVIS said immediately, like he’d just been waiting for the opportunity to praise Tony’s efforts. “That is a very realistic depiction of Dummy, You and Butterfingers, young sir. Dummy in particular would be very appreciative if you were to show him.”

A pink flush rose on Tony’s face, and he ducked his head and sucked on the pacifier a couple of times. Steve decided to let the matter drop for the time being, and just carefully set Tony’s picture aside to let it dry. Even if Tony didn’t want to show it to the ‘bots, he wanted to keep it. He might even put it up on the refrigerator. He could remember his own mom doing that with his pictures when he was a kid, and it had always given him a thrill to see his artwork displayed so prominently.

“Why don’t you draw something else?” he suggested, picking up a brush for himself. He bent his head to work on a new piece of paper, pretending that he wasn’t paying any more attention to Tony, and after a couple of minutes of fidgeting Tony stuck his hand back in the jar of red glitter paint and kept going.

The next few pictures Tony turned out weren’t recognizeable as anything in particular, and would probably require a lot of imagination when Steve got the chance to ask Tony to describe them. It was wonderful, though, to see the sparkle in Tony’s eyes as he plunged his little fingers into paint and smeared the colors together. He especially seemed to delight in mixing his own shades, and – evidently deciding the jars were too small - grabbed the jars of yellow and blue paint to pour on his paper before Steve could stop him.

A tidal wave of yellow, blue, and greenish paint swept across the paper into Tony’s lap and the floor. Tony froze, mouth dropping open and pacifier falling out. Steve froze too, too surprised to react at first, because he wasn’t expecting Tony to let himself go that much. He only snapped out of it when tears welled up in Tony’s eyes and he audibly whimpered, scrambling out of the chair and reaching for one of the cloths Steve had set aside for cleaning up.

“Sorry. Sorry, Daddy. Didn’t mean to.”

“Tony. Tony, hey.” Steve jumped out, reaching to intercept him as Tony started ineffectively swiping at the paint dripping on the floor. Tony flinched and Steve froze again. “Tony? It’s okay, sweetie.”

“I made a mess,” Tony whispered, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “I’m s-sorry.” His breath hitched on a sob.

“It’s okay,” Steve repeated, carefully pulling him into a hug, because maybe he shouldn’t touch Tony right now but he couldn’t bear to stand there and watch his baby cry without doing anything. Tony stood stiffly against him for a moment before he crumpled with another sob, the sodden cloth slipping from his fingers as he clung to Steve, still muttering apologies under his breath.

“I told you, paint can be cleaned up. You didn’t do anything wrong. I should’ve thought ahead and put something down on the floor, but that’s my fault. It doesn’t matter. It’s just a floor. It’s okay, Tony, I’m not mad,” Steve told him, rocking him back and forth. They were both covered in paint now, but that didn’t matter. He glanced at the table, realizing that Tony had been in the middle of painting a picture of the Avengers – the green was, no doubt, for the Hulk – and felt even worse. He turned his head back, brushing a kiss over Tony’s sweaty forehead, and that’s when they both heard it.

Someone was knocking on the door.

Chapter Text

The sound of someone knocking on the door made Tony feel cold all over. He stiffened, torn between jerking away from Steve and clinging to him even more tightly. Nightmarish visions tumbled through his head – the team would never respect him if they found out what he and Steve had been up to, and it was pretty much a guarantee that he would be lucky to end up as a consultant because they'd never trust him on the field – but he couldn’t move even when the knocking came again, even louder and more insistent. The fear was too paralyzing.

“JARVIS, who is it?” Steve demanded, and he sounded so panicked that Tony’s heart started pounding furiously.

“It’s Agent Barton,” JARVIS responded immediately. “My apologies, young sir, Captain Rogers. I attempted to persuade him that Captain Rogers is busy and didn’t have time to speak with him, but he refuses to be dissuaded. He asked me to tell you that he is not going to leave until you open the door and talk to him.”

“Damn it,” Steve muttered. He gently but firmly pushed Tony back. Tony was humiliated by the whimper that left him when the distance between them got too big, and he couldn’t help trying to get closer. Steve’s hands on his shoulders kept him at bay as Steve said, “Shh, baby, it’s okay. Listen to me. You need to go into my bedroom and close the door. I’ll handle Clint. He doesn’t have to know that you’re here.”

“I can –” Tony began.

“No, you can’t. I appreciate that you would try, but you’re not in the right frame of mind to be big right now and you know that.”

Tony scowled, but he knew that his daddy was right. He’d never been very good at coming out of his little headspace that quickly. The handful of times he’d been surprised in the past hadn’t gone over well, though fortunately Pepper had always attributed his childishness to lack of sleep or alcohol. He was even more little now, and the fact that he wanted to hide in Steve’s arms more than anything spoke volumes. Plus, Clint wasn’t stupid. He’d been trained as a super spy and he had the annoying tendency to notice everything.

Reluctantly, he obeyed Steve’s instruction. He caught a glimpse of Steve doing something at the table as he pulled the bedroom door closed behind him. “JARVIS, audio?” he asked, walking slowly over to the bed. He slipped his apron over his head and dropped it on the floor, then sat down as JARVIS began to filter the audio into the room, just in time to listen as Steve went over to the door and opened it.

“Gees, took you – what the hell have you been doing?” Clint said loudly, and Tony cringed. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that he and Steve were both covered in paint. Tony had gotten a lot of it on himself when he spilled the yellow and blue paint, and since Steve had been hugging him it had transferred.

“I was painting,” Steve said.

“With what? Your hands?”

“Finger painting is a valid medium of expression, Clint. There are some famous artists who have never lifted a brush. Besides, I never got the chance to do it when I was a kid so I thought I’d see what the fuss was about. Now, what did you need? Is there a mission or something?”

“This came from Fury,” Clint replied. “I’m told it’s urgent, of the highest priority, and that it had to be looked at immediately or cities would fall.” Tony rolled his eyes at that.

Sure enough, after a minute or two Steve grunted. “It’s nothing urgent,” he said, sounding irritated. “Nothing that couldn’t have waited a couple of days. Does Fury just have an incessant need to check up on us?”

“I think he gets nervous when he doesn’t hear from us for a few days. Thinks we’re plotting against him.” There was the sound of footsteps, and then Clint whistled. “That’s a lot of paint for one project. What exactly were you drawing?”

“It’s private.”

“Private?” Clint echoed slyly, and Tony’s heart sank. “Does this have anything to do with the memo Phil got about Tony being unavailable for the next couple of days?”

“W-what?” Steve sputtered.

Clint snickered. Tony could picture the smirk on his face, the way he’d lift his eyebrows meaningfully, as he added, “Is Tony here? What were you guys doing? Was he allowing you to use him as a canvas? Or maybe you were painting him like a French girl, is that it?”

Tony flinched, his chest tightening in panic. He darted a glance towards the door, wondering what he would do if Clint tried to come in. He was just wearing a t-shirt and a diaper. It would be blatantly obvious to even the most unobservant person that something weird was going on. Quickly he stood up and rushed over to the closet. It was large and dark and Tony held his breath as he edged inside, trying his best to not get any of the paint on his hands and arms on Steve’s clothes, while Steve’s exasperated response filled the room behind him.

“For god’s sake, Clint. Yes, Tony is here with me. No, I was not painting him like a French girl or using him as a canvas. For your information, he’s sleeping in the guest room. He barely slept at all the whole time he was gone with Pepper. I managed to convince him to stay with me during his vacation in the hopes that he would actually get some rest instead of heading back down to the workshop the way he wanted to. You know exactly how much Tony tries to do, so don’t you dare tease him about this when you see him again.”

“Okay, okay. I was just joking, Cap. Frankly speaking, I think you two would are good for each other.”

“I’m glad to hear that I have your approval,” Steve said dryly. “Thank you for delivering this to me. Please feel free to tell Fury to fuck off for the next three days unless the world is ending, or I’ll sic Pepper on him.”

Clint laughed. “You might need to do that anyway. I think Pepper is probably the only non-SHIELD person in the world that Fury is actually a little bit scared of.”

“If he keeps it up, I just might. Now go.”

“I’m going. Let me know if you and Tony need anything.”

“Goodbye, Clint.” The door slammed shut and Steve’s sigh echoed loudly through the room. Tony squeezed his shut against the burn of relieved tears and leaned against the wall, his knees actually feeling shaky. That had been way too close.

He looked up as the closet door was pulled open a moment later. Steve caught him up in a warm hug without a word, and every protest or word of fear that had been building up in Tony’s tight throat died away instantly. He clung to Steve, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist and burying his face against Steve’s shoulder. He could feel himself shaking a little now that the fear of being caught was beginning to pass; he’d never been one to come down easily from an adrenaline rush, and it was worse yet when he caught between his two headspaces.

“It’s okay. He’s gone. He didn’t know,” Steve murmured, and though the words were comforting, he sounded too tense for them to come across the way. He was stiff too, not curling around Tony the way he normally did, like he was trying to give Tony a hug with his whole body.

It took effort to lift his head up, but he wanted to see Steve’s face. Another shiver rolled through him as he did, and Steve returned to the bed and picked up a soft blanket. He sat down, sitting Tony on his lap, and wrapped a blanket around Tony’s shoulders. Tony allowed it, still peering up at him uncertainly. Was Steve his daddy right now or not? What if this incident meant that Steve had changed his mind? Because the Avengers would think oddly of him too if they found out.

“Are you okay?” Tony asked finally, fisting his hands in the blanket to keep from reaching out. Either for a hug or for his teddy, which he could just make out over Steve’s shoulder. He could be big for a few minutes if Steve needed him to, diaper aside, but not if he was holding his teddy bear.

“I’m fine.” But Steve wouldn’t meet his eyes, staring at a point somewhere over Tony’s head, and he was still stiff.

“You don’t look fine,” Tony pointed out, frowning, not liking that Steve was trying to lie to him. “Are you… did you… do you want me to go?”

“What?” Steve seemed genuinely surprised by the question. His arms tightened around Tony’s waist and he finally looked Tony in the eyes. His frown softened. “No, baby, I don’t want you to leave. I’m sorry. I was just thinking about what Clint said when he left. He thinks that we’re… you know, together. All of the team does, especially after you fell asleep on me last night.”

Tony’s stomach flipped over. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more: the fact that the team thought he and Steve were dating, or that the team thinking that was making Steve look like this. “I can set the record straight,” he said quietly. Maybe it would be better if he left. He shifted his weight, putting one foot on the floor. “If you – I can still catch Clint, just let me grab my jeans –”

“No. Tony, no, that’s not what I meant. Besides, I don’t think you’re in any condition to talk to Clint right now.”

Tony scowled, blinking back tears. “I could too!” Much to his embarrassment, his voice broke and a few stray tears slipped down his cheeks.

“But you don’t need to,” Steve said, and the gentleness was back in his voice. “I’m sorry. I don’t mind if the team thinks that. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I do.” He pulled Tony back into his arms. “It’s probably for the best. It provides a convenient excuse when we want to spend together. I just… wasn’t sure if you would be okay with that.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re the one getting the wrong end of the stick,” Tony mumbled, wiping at his face. “No one will be happy to hear that Captain America is dating Tony Stark.” He sniffed and dropped his hands just in time to see a very peculiar look on Steve’s face.

“I don’t care about that. People can think what they want. If I want to date you, I’m damn well going to,” Steve replied finally.

He was pretty sure that Steve had no idea just what kind of damage this would do to his reputation, but Tony was too tired to fight anymore. At least it wouldn’t be true. He and Steve weren’t dating, and wouldn’t be dating at any point in the future, because Tony wasn’t nearly good enough for him and god knew Steve put up with enough as it was. And yeah – this was a topic he didn’t want to think about anymore. He squeezed his eyes shut against more tears and reached out, groping blindly for his teddy.

Instead, Steve caught his hand. Tony was half-afraid Steve was going to try to push it, but instead Steve said, “You need a bath before you touch your teddy, honey. You don’t want to get paint on it.”

“Paint’s dry,” Tony said uselessly, clutching at Steve’s shoulder as Steve stood back up.

“You’re still covered in it, and you need to be changed.” Steve patted his bottom and Tony flushed. He didn’t even remember peeing in his diaper, but Steve was right. He was wet. It must have happened when he was hiding in the closet. He kept quiet as Steve set him and down and started running water in the tub, then turned to remove the t-shirt and the wet diaper. That, if anything, clinched it: no guy would be interested in someone they’d changed diapers for.

“Bubbles?” he asked, for lack of anything else to say, and Steve flashed him a warm smile and poured several capfuls of bubble bath into the water. Tony gave a tiny smile in return. Maybe he didn’t have Steve like that, but he could settle for having the best daddy in the world even for a little while.

Chapter Text

Tony was subdued during the bath, looking at the bubbles without much enthusiasm and remaining quiet as he was bathed. Steve didn’t try to push it; they were both still unsettled from the interruption, and from how close Clint had come to finding out. Thank god for JARVIS and the warning that he’d given them: Clint, like Thor, didn’t always knock before entering. Just the mental image of Clint walking in to see them finger painting together was enough to make Steve wince.

Once Tony was clean – which wasn’t really that difficult, as he’d purposely chosen paint that was water-based and washed off easily – Steve put his elbows on the edge of the tub and just looked at him for a moment. Tony was staring down at the water, which only came up to his waist. The puffy, dark circles under his red-rimmed brown eyes stood out against his pale skin, and served as a reminder that, at some point, Tony should probably go down for a nap. The flesh across his shoulders prickled with goose bumps as he hunched down automatically, shielding the arc reactor.

“Time to get out,” Steve said, jolted out of his thoughts when he realized Tony was getting cold. He pulled the plug and stood up, stretching a little, as the water began to drain. He grabbed one of the huge towels and wrapped it around Tony’s shoulders, rubbing briskly in an effort to warm him up. Tony shivered and leaned into the touch, letting Steve pick him up. The towel was big enough that, when Tony curled his legs up, he was pretty much covered from head to toe. He yawned then, rubbing one eye.

That reminded Steve of something he had read about online. Maybe it would be enough to help Tony sleep, since he didn’t foresee Tony going down for a nap without protest. Still, he asked, “Are you tired?”

“No.”

Steve had to hide his smile. “Are you sure? You look like you’re sleepy,” he said, quickly drying Tony off. He glanced at the time as they headed back into the bedroom. It was just after one. The morning had flown by. He’d get Tony dressed and then give him a bottle before putting him down for a nap. That would give him time to eat lunch and then plan something for the afternoon once Tony woke up.

He spread the changing mat out on the bed and helped Tony onto it. Diapering was becoming easier as he got more practice; he rubbed a little bit of diaper cream onto a couple of reddened areas and then sprinkled powder across Tony before expertly flipping the diaper up and smoothing the tabs down. Tony was quiet and patient, sucking his thumb while he waited, though his cheeks were still a little pink. He didn’t seem nearly as embarrassed as he’d been the first time, though.

With that done, he got Tony dressed in another bodysuit. It was pale green in color and had adorable picture of gears and a screwdriver on the chest. It proudly proclaimed the wearer as ‘Daddy’s Little Engineer’. Tony cocked his head at it and then rolled his eyes, obviously sensing a running theme, but the thumb in his mouth failed to disguise the tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Steve winked at him and then scooped him up, carrying him out to the living room.

He left Tony on the couch while he prepared a bottle, whistling under his breath as he poured in one of the chocolate flavored meal replacement shakes and heated it a little bit. When it was ready, he tucked it under his arm and stepped into the bedroom to fetch a huge red blanket. It was incredibly soft, the kind of fabric that you just wanted to rub against your cheek, and had been one of Steve’s favorites to sleep with for a long time now. He knew that Tony would love it, too.

"Can we watch something?" Tony asked when he came back into the living room.

"Sure. I just want to try something first," said Steve, setting the bottle aside and spreading the blanket out on the floor. He turned down one corner, then glanced at Tony. "Wanna lay down for a minute?"

"Why?"

"I want to try something," Steve repeated patiently, beckoning to him.

"But I'm not tired," Tony said even as he slowly stood up. He made a face when Steve gave him a look but obeyed, lying down with his head at the side that was folded down. With Tony's arms at his sides, Steve folded the left side of the blanket securely across his body and tucked it under his back. Then he folded the bottom corner across Tony's left side, tucking it over his shoulder. Finally, he took the remaining right side and pulled it tight across Tony's arm and midsection. The result made him look a little like a burrito: he could move, but not much.

He looked adorable, swaddled securely in the red blanket, and Steve smiled as he scooped Tony up and cradled him. He snagged the bottle and sat down in the chair, offering up the nipple. Tony latched on and began to drink, eyes already half-lidded. Steve supported him with one arm while holding the bottle with the other, and this time Tony couldn't reach up to support the bottle himself. His arms were pinned against his sides, which meant he was dependent on Steve to help.

They needed a rocking chair, Steve realized then. It would be nice if he could rock Tony back and forth while he ate, or even as a way to help Tony fall asleep on days where he was exceptionally wound up. JARVIS would probably be able to help him find one. He added it to his mental list of things to buy. Already on said list was an adult-sized crib, because he was pretty sure that Tony would like having a space of his own, and a crib might make him feel more secure.

Actually, Steve wouldn't have minded setting up a nursery. He'd be able to paint a really nice mural on the walls, then get it completely outfitted with a crib, changing table, rocking chair, and anything else that Tony might want. The two of them couldn't leave the floor while Tony was like this - there was always someone from the media watching the tower - so he wanted to build the best possible experience inside that he could. Though that did beg the question of whether or not, someday, he and Tony could have a real vacation.

It was an intriguing question, and one Steve gave some serious thought to. Obviously they wouldn't be able to do anything around New York. Tony's reputation would be ruined if anyone found out. But Tony owned real estate all over the world, and he'd made reference a few times now to some private islands. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that he really did own an island (or two) where they'd be able to go without being bothered. Even if Tony didn't want to age play while they went, the idea of getting to spend some time with just the two of them was still an attractive thought.

"That would be nice, hmm, baby boy?" he murmured, tipping the bottle up a little higher. Tony's drinking was slowing down, and he was doing that thing where every time he blinked his eyes remained shut for a little while longer. Steve eased the bottle out of his mouth and patted his back until he burped, then stood up. He carried Tony into the bedroom and laid him on the bed, still swaddled in the blanket, in the hopes that maybe it would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay. After placing Tony's monkey and teddy bear beside him, Steve shut the light off and crept out of the room. He left the door open a crack.

Though it was quieter in the apartment with Tony sleeping, it wasn't nearly as bad as it usually was. Sometimes the silence could get so loud that Steve would leave, going to the communal floor if the other Avengers were around or out of the tower entirely if they weren't. As he walked into the kitchen and gathered ingredients to make himself a quick sandwich, he found himself humming softly. It was just plain nice to know that Tony was sleeping in the bedroom. He wished that it could happen more often.

"JARVIS, do you know of any stores that sell rocking chairs strong enough to accommodate my weight and Tony's?" he asked, adding some cheese to his bread.

"I can look, Captain Rogers," JARVIS replied. "Do you have a specific preference for the kind of wood?"

"Not really. I just want something solid. And preferably comfortable, maybe with some cushions. Large enough for Tony to sit on my knee or sit beside me," he added. Because sometimes Tony might want to curl up beside him instead of on his lap. "Also, could you start putting together a list of stores that sell baby furniture that's large enough for adults? Maybe Tony and I could look at them together at some point."

"Certainly."

"Thanks," Steve said, slapping the bread on top of his sandwich. He took a huge bite, leaning against the counter and chewing slowly. It would probably cost a fortune to buy that kind of stuff, but he didn't care. What did he really have to spend his money on? Tony didn't charge them anything for rent or food, and most of Steve's clothing had either been provided by SHIELD or was in the closet when he got here. His money was just gathering dust. He might as well spend it by giving back to Tony in the only way he knew how.

He finished off his sandwich and quickly made up another. He didn't know how long Tony would sleep for, but that was okay: he already had an idea in mind for how they could spend the rest of the day. It was a little known fact that Tony actually enjoyed sweets a lot. His favorite flavor was chocolate, though he actually liked just about anything except for mint. Steve had looked up some recipes in advance, and he'd gotten JARVIS to stock the kitchen with everything they'd need.

That wasn't the best part, though. He'd searched for some recipes online and finally settled on cannoli and tiramisu. If there was time, they would make an attempt at a cookie recipe as well. Steve had never made any of them before - during the war, no one really baked, and after he woke up food had changed so much that he hadn't exactly branched out - but at best he and Tony would produce something that was edible and at worst the two of them would have fun baking together. He didn't think they could go wrong.

While he ate his second sandwich, he bustled around the kitchen and took out most of the ingredients they'd need. A few things, like the ricotta cheese, he left in the refrigerator until Tony woke up. It was tempting to go wake him up now, because Steve was excited to get started, but experience had taught him better than that. Tony was sweet when he'd been up for three or four days. But if he fell asleep and then got woke up before he was ready? He was cranky as hell, which Thor and Clint had discovered one morning a couple months back. Steve had no desire to deal with a cranky baby for the rest of the night. He could entertain himself until then.

Chapter Text

Tony jerked awake, half-sitting up, his heart racing. The room was dark, but there was sun seeping in around the curtains and the clock told him that he hadn’t been sleeping for long. Maybe forty-five minutes, if that. The soft red blanket was still wrapped around him, but he must have been tossing and turning in his sleep because it had loosened. He was hot now, and he wriggled until one of his arms slipped free and he was able to unfold the blanket the rest of the way.

What had woken him up? He didn’t remember having a nightmare, and Tony always remembered those unless he’d been drinking – and the bottle Steve had given him didn’t count. He flushed a little, embarrassed by how docile and helpless he’d acted, lying back in Steve’s arms like that. That wasn’t like him at all. In the moment, though, it hadn’t seemed weird or humiliating. The thought of Steve teasing him later had never even crossed his mind. He’d felt safe and cared for, and very little, looking up at Steve’s familiar face.

“Young sir?” JARVIS broke the silence, his voice quiet. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. What woke me up?” Tony asked, yawning and rubbing sleepily at his eyes. He was still tired, even though he and Steve hadn’t done very much this morning. Even putting aside the adrenaline rush of nearly being caught, it would take a while for his body to catch up on sleep.

“Captain Rogers is sleeping, but he appears to be in some distress. He called out.”

“What?” Suddenly alert, Tony untangled his legs from the blanket and scooted across the bed. He’d never appreciated how large the beds he’d purchased were until now; Steve had laid him in the middle, and he felt like a little kid, having to crawl to the edge. He put his feet down and stood up. The diaper between his thighs squished a little unpleasantly, and he grimaced. Apparently he’d peed himself while he was sleeping. That was starting to become a consistent thing while he was little, and he didn’t know if he liked it.

He pushed the door open the rest of the way and immediately spotted Steve, stretched out on the couch. His eyes were shut but his face was twisted into a grimace, and he was shifting restlessly. He shouted again, a wordless roar that made Tony jump, and bared his teeth at whatever enemy he was seeing in his dreams. Tony slipped his thumb into his mouth, watching him with wide eyes. He’d never seen anyone in the midst of a nightmare before. Like this, Steve was frightening.

It was tempting to go back into the bedroom and hide under the covers, or better yet under the bed. He didn’t like spaces that reminded him of caves for obvious reasons, but he’d learned way before Afghanistan that places where adults couldn’t reach him were valuable. He cast an uncertain glance over his shoulder at the bed, where the blanket and his teddy bear and his monkey were waiting. He could hide until he fell back asleep, and when Steve woke up on his own he’d come get Tony, and Tony could pretend this had never happened.

Steve made another sound then, but deeper, like someone had hurt him and he was in pain. There was no way Tony could leave him after that. He crept closer, sucking anxiously on his thumb, and stopped when his legs were pressed against the couch. Steve was breathing hard, almost panting. Tony didn’t dare lean over him. He didn’t know how he was supposed to wake Steve up, but putting a hand on him didn’t sound like a good idea. He decided to try speaking.

“Daddy?” he said softly, pulling his thumb out of his mouth and fisting his hand against his chin, pressing his fingers against his bottom lip. It left spit smeared across his chin, but he didn’t care. “Daddy? Wake up, Daddy.” And then, when Steve didn’t move, he spoke more sharply. “Steve! Wake up!”

Steve jerked at the sound of his name, his eyes flying open, and jumped when he saw Tony standing over him. Maybe it was the tensing of his muscles, or instinct, but Tony knew what was going to happen before it did. He started to back up, but he wasn’t fast enough: Steve’s fist glanced off his jaw, hard enough to send him staggering into the coffee table and then to the ground. He lay there for a moment, stunned, barely processing the pain shooting through his head.

Move, a little voice inside of him snapped, because this wasn’t his daddy or even his teammate right now, and he obeyed. He lurched to his feet and bolted towards the bedroom, hands outstretched because the tears in his eyes made it impossible to see, and gave in to his initial desire. He sank to the ground and inched his way under the bed, curling up near the headboard where it would be hard for anyone to reach him. He pulled his knees up to his chest and laid there, shaking, tears slipping down his face.

His jaw throbbed with pain, and so did his knees where he’d tripped over the coffee table and his wrist and side where he’d hit the ground. He knew that he was being silly, because Steve hadn’t meant to hit him, had responded very logically considering he was having a nightmare and had woken up to someone standing over him. The logical, adult thing to do would be to climb out from under the bed, go back into the living room and make sure that Steve was okay. And then get some ice for his jaw.

But right then, Tony felt like the furthest thing from an adult. He was in pain, and he was still tired, and he didn’t think he could stand up and walk never mind go back into the living room. He was too little, and he just wanted someone to come pick him up and give him a hug. That’s all he’d ever wanted, but Stark men weren’t supposed to want those things.

Over the sound of his quiet sobs, he could hear footsteps out in the living room. Tony held his breath. Steve spoke and JARVIS answered, but the words were unintelligble. He squeezed his eyes shut as footsteps neared the bedroom, and then Steve’s ankles came into view, followed by his knees as he knelt down. And then, a moment later, Steve’s face as he put his cheek to the floor. He didn’t say anything right away, but the guilty expression spoke volumes.

“Tony?” he said, as though making sure. “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t – I didn’t realize it was you standing in front of me. I was having a really bad dream and I thought you were someone else. Do you think you could come out here and let me see your cheek?”

“I’m okay,” Tony said, not moving. His jaw hurt even more when he spoke, and he sniffed loudly. He wanted to suck his thumb again, but he thought it might hurt too much.

“I know you think you’re okay, but I’d really like to be able to see for myself. Please, Tony?”

Tony hesitated for a few seconds. He was tempted to say no and stay where he was, but he really wanted a hug. Very slowly, he inched his way forward. Steve didn’t try to help, even when he got closer to the edge. It was only when he pulled himself out from under the bed that Steve smiled shakily, scanning him from head to toe. He reached out a hand very slowly, giving Tony lots of time to move away if he wanted to, and gently touched Tony’s chin, tilting his head up and to the side slightly.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry,” he breathed.

“It was my fault,” Tony mumbled. “I should’ve known better.”

“This was not your fault, Tony. I should have warned you that I have nightmares sometimes and that it’s not a good idea to wake me up. More often than not I come up swinging. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tony said, proud that he managed to make his voice sound calm, and then – to his embarrassment – he gave a huge gulp and burst into tears.

Steve’s face crumbled and he shifted closer, wrapping his arms around Tony. “I’m sorry, sweetpea, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, sounding wrecked. “God, when I saw you hit the floor I thought for sure I’d killed you. I wasn’t trying to pull that punch at all.”

He probably would have, or at least done a lot more damage, if Tony hadn’t shifted beforehand and Steve hadn’t been unbalanced from lurching upwards to throw the punch, and Tony cried harder. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t even know if he was crying because he’d been so scared, or because his jaw hurt so much, or because Steve was drowning in guilt, or because he was finally getting his hug. Maybe all of the above. He just knew that it felt really good to have Steve’s arms around him.

Steve didn’t say a word. He just sat there and rocked Tony back and forth, pressing kisses against his hair, until Tony was so exhausted and the pain in his head was so bad that he couldn’t cry anymore. Slowly, his sobs petered out, until he sat, miserable and quiet, on Steve’s knee. Steve kept rocking him for a little while longer, until one of his hands drifted further down Tony’s back and discovered that he was wet.

“I guess you need to be changed. Are you okay with me doing that, Tony?”

The question confused Tony. Why wouldn’t he be okay with his daddy changing his diaper? Then he wondered if maybe this was the straw that broke the camel’s back: maybe Steve had finally realized just how much of a pain this age play stuff really was, and he was going to tell Tony that he couldn’t do it anymore. It was a terrifying thought, and it seemed that he could cry some more after all. In between sobs, he grasped feebly at the shirt Steve was wearing.

“P-please d-don’t leave m-me.”

“What? I’m not going anywhere, honey. I’m right here,” Steve said, hugging even tighter. “I just meant are you – you know what, never mind. Come here.” He stood up, easily lifting Tony into his arms, and spread the changing pad out on the bed. He laid Tony down on it and didn’t seem to mind that Tony kept clinging to his shirt. Fortunately, the diaper bag was kept within arm’s reach.

Anger flashed into Steve’s expression when he took the diaper off. Tony wasn’t sure why until a wipe was gently pressed against his genitals. He flinched at the sting and whimpered, but didn’t try to get away as Steve wiped him off. He knew he had to be cleaned. Then his daddy carefully put some of the diaper rash cream on, which eased the pain, followed by another diaper. As the snaps of the bodysuit were snapped shut, Tony looked up at him.

“Daddy?” he whispered, still somewhat uncertain. Aunt Peggy had always told him that ice cream, or failing that, a popsicle, made everything hurt less. “Ice cream?”

“You can have all the ice cream you want, sweetheart,” said Steve. “Right after we get some ice for your jaw, okay? Does it hurt anywhere else?”

Tony paused. His jaw was the worst, but his wrist and knees hurt a lot too. Slowly, he pointed to both knees and then held his wrist up. Steve gently took his wrist in hand and pressed his fingers against the skin to check for broken bones, then bent to look at Tony’s knees. His jaw visibly tightened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he carefully kissed all three spots. When he lifted his head again, he smiled just a little when he saw Tony staring at him.

“Hasn’t anyone ever kissed you when you got hurt?”

Speechless, Tony shook his head.

This time, the anger was mingled with sadness. Steve said, “It helps you to feel better, but I think some ice for your jaw as well as your wrist would help even more.”

“And ice cream?”

“And ice cream,” Steve agreed with an even sadder smile, reaching down to scoop him up.

Chapter Text

Since waking up in the future, Steve had had his fair share of nightmares. Most of the time he dreamt about things from the war: Bucky's death and crashing the plane usually into the ice featured heavily. But more and more, he'd started having nightmares about the future too. Dreams where Tony didn't fall out of the portal in time, and it closed behind him. Dreams where the rest of the team were killed in way or another. Dreams where, no matter what Steve did, his enhanced abilities just weren't enough to save the rest of the world, much less the little part he had carved out for himself. It was one of those dreams that had led to him punching Tony in the face.

Thank god Tony had anticipated what was going to happen, little as he'd been at the time, and started moving backwards. It had taken a lot of experimentation after the serum was first given to him before Steve stopped destroying things because of his increased strength; he knew how much damage he could've done with a single punch. And the worst part of it all was that he didn't even realize it was Tony he was punching until it was too late. Tony had been on his feet and skittering into the bedroom like a spooked kitten by the time Steve had come back to himself and understood what he'd done.

The guilt was a heavy weight to bear, not that he wasn't used to it. Even with the ice that Steve carefully applied, within a couple of hours the bruise on Tony's cheek was pretty spectacular. It went from the corner of his eye all the way down to his cheek, even trailing down below his ear, and turned an ugly black fringed with purple along the edges. Tony submitted to the ice in silence, crinkling his nose at the initial bite, and it had to be hurting a lot because he didn't complain about how cold the ice was. For the rest of the night, all Tony seemed to want to do was curl up in Steve's lap and watch the television, letting his untouched bowl of ice cream melt on the coffee table.

In the cold light of day, the bruise on Tony's cheek somehow looked worse. Maybe because it was a little swollen now, rounding the curve of Tony's cheek until it looked like he had food stored in the corner of his mouth. Steve drummed his fingers restlessly on the bedspread as he watched Tony sleep. Finally, he said quietly, "JARVIS?"

"Yes. Captain Rogers?"

Surprisingly, the A.I. didn't sound angry. Steve didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He'd already learned just how protective JARVIS could be, after the first epic argument he and Tony had had within the tower. A few insults had resulted in anything and everything electronic in the tower mysteriously malfunctioning, including ending up with the slowest of elevator rides and ice cold showers. He wondered if the same thing would happen this time around. Or maybe JARVIS was figuring out a worse punishment, since Tony didn't seem to be inclined to stand up for himself. Considering what he'd done to Tony, Steve would've been willing to accept just about any punishment there was.

"Captain Rogers?" JARVIS prompted when Steve failed to respond.

"Oh, uh, sorry. I just - I didn't hurt Tony, did I? Inside, I mean?" he asked, voicing his deepest fear. He was intimately familiar with the kind of damage that could happen to the inside of the body, the kind that you couldn't see until it was too late. If it meant saving Tony's life, even if Tony would never speak to him again, Steve was more than willing to call Bruce down here right now.

"I monitor Sir at all times while he is in the tower. At present, young sir has a mild concussion," JARVIS replied. "There is swelling to his cheek, which will cause difficulty with eating. One of his teeth is slightly loose and may need to be checked by a dentist at some point. However, at this time my scans report nothing that would require medical intervention."

Steve couldn't help relaxing a little at that. At least he wouldn't have to live with the knowledge that he'd killed or horribly injured Tony Stark. "Thank you, JARVIS. Please let me know if anything changes."

"I will, Captain. Might I recommend you change young sir? He has been wet for the past fifty-three minutes."

"Right. Thanks," Steve muttered, wondering where his head was. Of course Tony needed to be changed. He'd noticed that it was becoming a regular thing - now, when Tony was little and fell asleep, he wet himself regardless of whether or not he had a nightmare. He wasn't sure how Tony felt about it, but at least the regular diaper changes were helping to smooth over Tony's embarrassment.

He took a quick detour into the bathroom to grab the diaper bag and paused to relieve himself, then washed his hands. As he dried his hands on the towel, he heard it for the first time. The whimper was soft, but still audible. A few seconds later, Tony cried out. Steve bolted out of the bathroom just in time to see Tony roll over, arms flailing. But not like he was trying to fight against someone, the way Steve usually did. That was only underscored when Tony whimpered again and recoiled, bringing his hands up over his head like he was trying to hide.

"Dad, no," he cried. "Sorry!"

Anger and fear made Steve's hands shake as he ran to the bed. He started to reach out towards Tony, but hesitated. Soldiers usually woke up swinging from nightmares, and while Tony wasn't a soldier, in this case he was close enough. That didn't really bother him, but he was worried about scaring Tony. Watching Tony whimper and cry was worse, though. As gently as possible, he rested a hand on Tony's trembling shoulder. Instead of shaking him, he rubbed Tony's arm and called to him softly.

"Tony? Hey, sweetpea, it's Daddy. You're here with me in my bedroom, remember? We're spending some time together. Come on, Tony, open your eyes. I'm right here. You don't have anything to be scared of. I'll protect you, I promise. Just open your eyes and we'll have ice cream for breakfast, and then we can do whatever you want. Come on, honey, show Daddy those beautiful brown eyes. Come on, baby, you can do it -"

Slowly, the tension in Tony's body eased. His eyes, glassy and blank, fluttered open. At first he looked confused, but awareness settled in quickly when JARVIS began saying the date, time and location. He burst into tears as soon as he really looked at Steve, who breathed a sigh of relief and swept Tony into a hug. The feeling of cool wetness against his lap startled Steve until he realized that Tony must have wet himself again during the nightmare, and the diaper had overflowed. A quick glance at the large wet spot on the sheets confirmed it.

"Oh darling, I am so sorry," Steve sighed, pressing a kiss to Tony's head. He was definitely failing the poor baby left and right, it seemed. He rubbed Tony's back, trying not to think about what that nightmare might have been about. He knew that Tony'd had issues with Howard, just like he knew that Tony'd had other nightmares about the man. But that was about all he knew. The rest was pure suspicion based on the things Tony had said and done over the past couple of months, because Tony didn't want to talk about it.

He had the feeling that this time would be no different, especially since he was positive that being punched in the jaw had probably been the cause of Tony's nightmare. Which meant that, at some point, Howard had either struck or slapped his son. Steve couldn't think about that too closely, not when he was cradling Tony in his arms. Not unless he wanted to get even more upset, and that wouldn't help to calm Tony down. No, that line of thought was best saved for when he was alone in the gym and could let loose with some punching bags, or better yet when Thor returned from Asgard and was willing to spar for several rounds.

Tony only cried for a couple of minutes before he stopped, sniffling. His head was tucked under Steve's chin. He was still shaking a little when he whispered, "Daddy, I had a bad dream."

"I know you did. Kinda like when I had a bad dream yesterday, huh?" Steve kissed the top of his head again.

"Uh huh. I don't like bad dreams."

"Neither do I, baby boy. Neither do I," Steve muttered. He already knew what the answer would be, but he felt the need to ask regardless. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Surprisingly Tony hesitated. He was quiet for so long that Steve started to think that he might open up about Howard after all. In the end, though, Tony shook his head. "No, Daddy. I want ice cream."

"Ice cream?"

"You said," Tony whispered, lifting his head and looking up at Steve through his eyelashes. It would've been adorable if it weren't for the ugly bruise on his cheek. "You said I could have ice cream for breakfast."

Steve frowned and cast his mind back over the last half hour. Belatedly, he realized that Tony was right. He had said that when he was trying to get Tony to wake up. He just hadn't realized that Tony was listening. "You're right, I did say that," he said, noticing that, although Tony looked hopeful, he also looked kind of resigned. Like he was ready for Steve to say no. "And since you didn't end up eating any ice cream last night, I think that's an excellent breakfast."

Tony cocked his head, eyes widening. "Really?"

"Really. Just let me change your diaper and then we can have all the ice cream you want."

"Okay..." Tony said slowly, clearly not believing him, but submitted to the diaper change without protest. Steve ended up having to strip him bare, since Tony's pajama bottoms were soaked. He gave Tony a quick rubdown with the baby wipes instead of a bath, figuring that they were both too hungry to wait that long, and got him dressed in a fresh diaper and yellow bodysuit with purple polka-dots. After pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, he carried Tony into the kitchen.

Normally he might've tried to substitute the ice cream for frozen yogurt, so that at least the baby would have a little bit of a healthier breakfast, but right then he didn't care. He scooped a generous helping of vanilla ice cream into two bowls and set them on table with all of the toppings from last night: caramel and hot fudge sauce, whipped cream, peanuts, almonds, candy, and some cut-up fruit, including cherries. Tony grabbed for some of the strawberries and cherries, squeezed too hard, and giggled as the red sauce leaked all over his hands. He dumped the smushed up fruit into his bowl and made a grab for the hot fudge sauce, drowning both ice cream and fruit.

"Looks great," Steve said, decorating his own ice cream with fruit, almonds, whipped cream and caramel sauce. "You gonna eat it, honey?"

Tony nodded, but he didn't eat right away. He said softly, "Daddy, my head hurts."

Right. The concussion. Steve grimaced, furious at himself for forgetting, and quickly stood up. "Let me get you some tylenol."

"Don't like," Tony said with a pout.

"It'll make you feel better." Steve fetched the bottle, which he had on hand purely because JARVIS kept all floors of the tower fully stocked with first aid kids, and shook two into his hand. He set them down in front of Tony, who swallowed them begrudgingly.

"Icky," he mumbled.

"I know. I'm proud of you for taking them. Let's wash it down with your ice cream, okay?" He picked up Tony's spoon and scooped up some ice cream, a strawberry and a little sauce and held it out. Tony blinked at the spoon but opened his mouth, letting Steve feed him. Steve ended up feeding Tony with his right hand and himself with his left hand, hating himself even more every time Tony winced from chewing. He didn't know how, but he was going to make this up to Tony.

Chapter Text

It turned out that having ice cream for breakfast wasn't such a bad thing after all. Tony didn't really have to chew it; he could just let the ice cream melt on his tongue and then swallow that and the crushed fruit whole. His jaw was hurting, though not badly enough to warrant making a fuss about it to Steve. The guilt his daddy was feeling was plain enough as it was, written across Steve's face every time he looked at Tony. He didn't know how to tell Steve that it wasn't his fault, and that Tony definitely did not blame him for what had happened. Even when he was little, he should've known better than to approach someone having a nightmare.

He shook his head after Steve offered him one of the last few bites and looked at the counter. There were a couple of bottles sitting out, just waiting to be used, but there was no way Tony would be able to drink from them right now. The repetitive motion of sucking would be too painful. But that was fine. It wasn't like he enjoyed drinking from the bottles. That was a lot more babyish than he'd ever intended on getting. Who would like being cuddled by their daddy, wrapped up all warm and snuggly in a blanket, while they drank something yummy? Certainly not Tony. He would be fine if Steve never gave him another bottle again.

"I'm sorry, Tony," Steve said quietly, following his gaze to the bottles. "It will probably be about a week before you feel well enough to have a bottle."

Tony shrugged. "It's fine. I don't like them anyway."

"Tony..." Steve trailed off and shook his head, seemingly torn between amusement and exasperation.

"I don't! I'm not a baby."

"Sure you're not," Steve said indulgently, and Tony pouted as he watched his daddy get up and clear away the remainder of their makeshift sundae bar. His hands were still covered in the sticky juices of strawberries and cherries, and he started licking them absently as Steve set the dishes in the sink and put everything else away. Then he came after Tony with a wet cloth, ignoring Tony's whines as he cleaned Tony's hands and face - the latter very carefully, as though Tony was built from fragile glass that could shatter at the slight provocation.

"Daddy, I'm clean," he whined finally, twisting his head away. "Stop!"

"I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't get any juice into the cookies."

That caught his attention immediately. "Cookies?"

"I thought we would do some baking today. I have all the ingredients ready and I've looked some recipes up online."

"I don't know how," Tony said. He went to slip his thumb into his mouth and winced when he accidentally pressed his hand against his face. He had to switch to his opposite hand. Fortunately, Steve had turned away to take some things out of the cupboard.

"That's okay, baby. I'm not very good at baking either, but sometimes it's fun just to experiment and see how far you can get."

Tony frowned around his thumb. His mother had never been one for baking; he couldn't remember ever seeing her in the kitchen. His parents had employed a full time chef, and on the rare occasion Tony got a home cooked meal it was always made by Anna, Jarvis's wife, or Angie, because Peggy and Jarvis hadn't been ones for cooking or baking. Angie had let him help in the kitchen a couple of times, but Tony had never been well suited to it. Recipes were hard to follow. He always got scattered and ended up forgetting whether or not he'd added ingredients, or he'd put something in the oven to bake and then forget about it.

Besides, baking always meant a mess. He squirmed a little at the thought. Messes were only accepted in the workshop, and even then they had to be a special kind of mess. Unless he could prove that his mess was because he was inventing something really worthwhile, his father got angry at him. Steve hadn't gotten angry at the paint spilling, though. He'd just hugged Tony and told him it wasn't his fault, and that the paint wasn't a big deal because they could just clean it up. Maybe he would be the same way when Tony inevitably spilled something while baking?

He stayed quiet and watched as Steve set out some ingredients. Flour, butter, sugar, eggs, cookie cutters, and a rolling pin were all set in front of Tony, along with food dye and icing sugar and some bowls. He reached out with his free hand, poking at a couple of the cookie cutters cautiously. Some of them were in the basic shapes - stars, moons, hearts, triangles, bunnies, even a kitty one - but one was shaped like Captain America's shield, Iron Man's helmet, Black Widow's spider, and Hawkeye's arrows.

"Do you like them?" Steve asked, coming up behind Tony and dropping an apron over him. He carefully pulled it up into place and fastened it behind Tony's head. It was red in color, with the words "Daddy's Helper" printed across the front of it. And it was official, Tony had no idea where Steve was getting all of this adult-sized clothing.

"For cookies?" Tony asked.

"Yup. Originally I thought we'd try something more complicated like tiramisu, but then I thought... well, maybe we'd better try something really basic and work our way up. I'd like to have something edible at the end of all this." Steve was smiling, but a twist of worry made Tony feel a little sick. What if their cookies weren't edible?

"Cookie?" he said again, looking at the ingredients and pulling a confused face.

"Sugar cookies," Steve said, setting his Starkpad up on the table and pulling up a recipe. He was wearing an apron too, though his was plain blue. "Can you help me mix the dough together? Everything needs to go in this big bowl. Once we roll it out, you can cut the cookies out in whatever shape you want. Then we bake them, and when they're cool we can frost them together."

It sounded complicated. That was a lot of steps! Trying to ignore the growing concern that this was going to be a disaster, Tony pointed to the flour. "First?"

"Actually, the sugar is first. Can't forget the sugar in the sugar cookies." Steve winked at him and pushed two measuring cups in front of Tony. He picked up both brown sugar and white sugar and filled one cup with each. "Can you put those in the bowl for me, honey?"

Carefully, making sure he didn't spill anything, Tony did.

"Good job," Steve praised, sticking a wooden spoon in the bowl. He stirred it around a few times, mixing the two sugars together. "Now I think we need to add the butter and... hmm. It says cream them together. I'm going to guess that means mix. Can you hand me the butter?"

The butter was warm when Tony picked it up. Steve split the wrapper and used a knife to slice off a chunk, glancing repeatedly at the screen of his tablet. He dumped that into the bowl and started to mix the sugar and butter together. Tony leaned forward to watch. It took a couple of minutes, but gradually the butter broke up into smaller chunks and picked up a lot of the sugar, until it was pretty evenly mixed. It didn't look that appetizing, but...

"Tony!" Steve exclaimed, looking like he was trying not to laugh. He clearly wasn't angry, so Tony felt safe in popping the little piece of butter and sugar that he'd stolen into his mouth. It melted quickly, flooding his tongue with the combination of sweet and salty. He smacked his lips in approval.

This time, Steve didn't even bother trying to hide his grin. "I'm glad you like it, but let's wait until the actual cookies are ready before you taste anything else, okay?"

Tony smiled shyly back, nodding his head in agreement. He helped Steve to add the rest of the ingredients to the bowl, taking a lot of care to make sure he didn’t drop any on the counter. He didn’t even know that Steve was watching him until, as he was slowly pouring in the flour, a finger darted by his face and dipped into the batter, then swept back up and poked him on the nose. Before he knew it, Tony had a blob of cookie batter on the tip of his nose. He blinked rapidly and crossed his eyes to look at it.

Steve chuckled. “You look pretty cute, sweetheart,” he teased.

“Not cute!” Tony protested, rubbing the batter away from his nose. He wasn’t sure why his daddy had done that.

“I beg to differ. You’re very cute, whether you want to admit it or not.” Steve grabbed a bit of the leftover flour and sprinkled it deliberately on the table, watching Tony closely. Tony squeaked in surprise and froze. There was a mess on the table, which meant he was going to be in trouble. But his daddy was the one who had made the mess! Would Tony still get yelled at, or… In the next instant he sputtered, thoughts going off track entirely, when Steve sprinkled flour over his head.

Tony stared at his daddy, wide eyed, mouth open.

“Super cute,” Steve said decisively.

That did it. Without thinking, Tony grabbed a handful of flour and threw it back. “Not cute!”

Laughing, Steve dodged the shower of flour and made a grab for the leftover milk. The white sugar was in easy reach, so Tony picked up the container. He giggled as he threw the whole thing at Steve. The look on his daddy’s face was very funny, especially when Steve went to pour the milk on Tony, slipped in some butter and ended up dumping it all over the both of them. It was even better when, while Steve was sitting on the floor, Tony picked up the brown sugar and upended it over Steve’s head.

“I should’ve known better than to pick a food fight with you,” Steve said, wiping at his face as he got up. “You’re too good at this, baby boy. I’m a real mess.” But he didn’t sound upset. If anything, he sounded strangely pleased.

“I’m messy too,” Tony said, as though it had just occurred to him, looking down at himself. A light dusting of flour covered his clothing, hands and face, and he was soaked in milk. He was pretty sure he’d wet himself during the short-lived food fight, too. He wriggled in his chair and made a face, then lifted his hands up to Steve. “Daddy, wet.”

“Wet?” Steve repeated.

“Wet,” Tony agreed, squirming again. “Daddy!”

“Oh, you’re wet.” Steve looked down at himself ruefully. “I guess we probably should get cleaned up before we do anything else. I was going to wait and give you a bath after we’d frosted the cookies, but oh well. I guess two baths in one day never hurt anyone. Let me just mix the cookie batter together and put it in the fridge, okay, honey?”

“Okay,” Tony said, subsiding back against his chair. He looked on as Steve mixed the flour into the rest of the batter. Then he covered it with plastic wrap and set the bowl in the fridge. Without the bowl, the table looked like even more of a mess. Their cooking process hadn’t exactly been clean even before the food fight.

“There. The table and floor can wait until we’re clean,” Steve said, scooping Tony up. Tony giggled at the way their clothing squished.

“Bath?” he asked.

“Yup, bath time. Then I’ll take a quick shower, and we can roll out the cookies together.”

Tony went quiet, carefully sliding his thumb into his mouth as they walked into the bathroom. Steve started the bath, then stripped Tony’s dirty clothes and diaper off. From the way he acted, you never would have guessed he was even filthier than Tony was. He was even whistling softly as he picked Tony up and carefully lowered him into the bathtub. The water was nice and hot, just the way Tony liked it, with ample bubbles. It was a big tub, though. He splashed at the bubbles and swallowed.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Bath.”

“I know. We’re gonna get you all cleaned up.”

“No. Bath,” Tony said, more insistently.

“You don’t want to take a bath?” Steve said, looking confused.

“Daddy bath.”

Judging from the way Steve’s eyes widened, he got it that time. “You want…” he trailed off, looking from Tony to the bath. “Tony, are you sure?”

“Bath,” Tony said again, softer this time, more uncertain. Maybe he was asking for too much. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, crossing this line… except it was something he’d heard about, when he was little, and it sounded nice.

Just when he thought Steve was going to say no, he nodded and stood up. “Okay. Wait right there.” He left the room, already stripped off his clothes, and came back less than a minute later in swim trunks. He walked over to the tub and stepped in, sitting down quickly.

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Tony could feel the awkwardness, and it was more than enough to make him tense and afraid. But then his daddy smiled and grabbed a toy, making it squeak, and Tony gasped when he felt something tickling his feet under the water. He squealed in surprise and Steve laughed, a mischievous spark in his eyes. Tony pouted back, biting back the smile that wanted to form, and picked up another toy for battle.

Chapter Text

The bath turned out to be a lot more fun than Steve had anticipated. He’d thought it might be awkward, but it wasn’t. After the initial few seconds, which admittedly were a little tense, Tony relaxed and started to warm up. Steve even managed to get them both washed, which he considered to be a true feat because Tony was adorable when he wanted to play. He rinsed the last of the shampoo from Tony’s hair and let him go, then set about scrubbing his own hair while Tony was distracted with chasing down the last of the bubble bath.

When they were both completely clean, Steve hooked the plug with his big toe and yanked it free. Tony pouted as the water started to drain away. “I don’t want to get out,” he complained.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Steve said, inwardly amazed. There was a time not that long ago when Tony would’ve had a panic attack at being in any water, even if it was just a bath in the safety of his own tower. Now, Tony was enjoying baths so much he was sulking at having to get out. This, if anything, was proof positive that their age play was having an excellent effect on Tony. Maybe it was allowing him to forget about being scared, never mind all the pressures Tony faced on a daily basis, and just focus on himself for once.

He stood up and grabbed one of the towels he’d left on the counter, wrapping it around Tony’s shoulders. Then he scooped Tony up, grinning when the baby let out a delighted giggle. Steve was still soaking wet, but he stepped out of the bath anyway. The rug would dry, and Tony’s comfort was more important. He set Tony down on the toilet and left the towel around his shoulders while he grabbed another to finish drying Tony off, scrubbing briskly at his hair.

Once Tony was good, he dried himself off perfunctorily and carried Tony into the bedroom. He glanced at their dirty clothing, which would need to be washed, and decided that Tony could help him decorate the cookies in just a diaper. It was easier to get frosting off of skin than clothing. He laid Tony down and got him into a fresh diaper, then stripped off his own wet swim trunks, hung them up to dry, and pulled on a pair of jeans. He didn’t bother with a shirt. Somehow he suspected he wouldn’t escape unscathed, either.

Tony was sitting up, holding his monkey and his bear in his lap when Steve returned. His head tipped to the side and he mumbled an unintelligible inquiry around his thumb. Steve smiled at him and picked him up, stuffed animals and all. He could tell Tony was confused as Steve took him back into the living room without bothering to dress him first. He set Tony on the sofa and sat down next to him, catching a stray droplet of water as it trickled down Tony’s cheek.

“I’m going to bake our cookies,” Steve said. “I think you should take a nap.” He hadn’t forgotten that Tony was coming down from nearly a week with no sleep, and this was only day two. It would be at least another three or four days before Tony was caught up. If it hadn’t been for their age play, he was pretty sure Tony would’ve just forced himself to work through the fatigue. So he was determined to make sure that Tony got as much sleep as possible.

“Not sleepy. I wanna help,” Tony said, letting his thumb slide out.

“You can’t help with this part. The cookies have to bake and cool before you can help me decorate.” Steve didn’t bother to add that he wasn’t okay with Tony helping him to cut the cookies out. He’d tested the bottom of the cookie cutters and found them to be sharper than he’d expected. And when Tony was particularly sleepy, that was a recipe for disaster.

“But I’m not sleepy,” Tony whined.

“Then you can watch television. JARVIS will put a show on for you,” he replied, not budging in the least. He picked up a pacifier from the coffee table and pushed it into Tony’s mouth, then stroked his hair. “Go to sleep, baby boy. You won’t be missing out on anything.”

Judging by Tony’s pout, he disagreed. Steve just gave him a kiss on the forehead as JARVIS started a cartoon of some sort and got up, heading into the kitchen. He took the batter out of the fridge and set it on the table. After he’d collected flour, the rolling pin, baking sheets, parchment paper and the cookie cutters, he snuck over to the couch and took a quick peek over the back. As he’d expected Tony was sound asleep, pacifier still in his mouth and clutching both of his stuffed animals to his chest.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” Steve murmured, amused, and pulled the blanket up a little higher to make sure Tony was covered all the way. Then he went to work. For about an hour, he alternated between rolling the batter out, cutting cookies out, and putting trays into and taking trays out of the oven. It was a lot of work, but when it came to the Avengers a couple dozen cookies just wasn’t enough. He’d be able to freeze about ¾ of the cookies for later, and still have more than enough for just him and Tony to snack on.

He whistled softly to himself as he worked, setting the cookies on every available space to cool. A couple batches came out a little crunchier than he’d intended, but on the whole they looked decent. He set aside the ones for him and Tony and put the rest in freezer bags before hiding them in the cupboard. That still left about two and a half dozen to be decorated. Steve set out the ingredients to make frosting, food coloring, and a little bit of candy to finish them off.

After a moment of indecision, he ate lunch and prepared a bottle for Tony, figuring that his little boy would still be pretty full from breakfast. Tony wouldn't be able to drink from a regular bottle - the act of sucking would be way too painful - but he took a knife to one of the nipples and widen the hole significantly. When he tipped the bottle, the liquid inside came out easily. He went over to the couch. The pacifier had fallen out of Tony’s mouth, but he was still fast asleep when Steve bent over him. He stirred when Steve picked him up, sleep-warm and cuddly in spite of his grizzling at being awoken, but latched onto the bottle readily enough. He winced the first few times when he tried to suck, and Steve whispered to him, apologizing and praising him for drinking so well, rubbing a hand up and down Tony’s back while he controlled the angle of the bottle so that the amount of liquid coming out was drinkable and not overwhelming.

“There you go. Good job. Drink it all up,” Steve coaxed, tipping the bottle just a tiny bit more. Tony’s eyes were still half shut, and every couple of minutes Steve had to shake him a bit to get him to wake up and keep drinking. It wasn't the best system, as without the act of sucking Tony kept falling back asleep, and it took a good half hour before the bottle was empty. Steve pulled the nipple out of his mouth and gave him a couple of solid thumps on the back. Tony burped and then coughed, blinking sleepily.

“Daddy?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey,” Steve said with a smile. He swiped away the dribble of milk at the corner of Tony’s mouth. “Are you ready to help me decorate some cookies?”

It was amazing how fast that woke up Tony up. He was off Steve’s knee like a shot, running into the kitchen clad only in a diaper and with a blanket haphazardly wrapped around his shoulders. Steve chuckled to himself and stood up to follow, setting the bottle in the sink to be washed later. Tony was already sitting at the table, his bright eyes fixed on the plate of cookies. Curiously, though, he didn’t try to reach out and steal one, the way most little kids would have.

“Can we make red icing?” Tony asked.

“Of course. We can make any color you want,” Steve said, dumping the icing sugar in a bowl. The icing wasn’t hard to make at all, requiring only a few more ingredients and then mixing it all together. He divided the result equally into four bowls and set them all in front of Tony.

Tony looked from the bowls to the food coloring and back again. Slowly, he picked up the red coloring and squeezed some into a bowl. He brightened as Steve gave him a spoon to mix it with. The icing looked a little more pink than red when it was finished, but Tony looked happy enough. He added blue, green and yellow coloring to the other three bowls, until they had a rainbow of icing on the table.

“That looks great, honey. Now, I’m going to frost the cookies. Do you think you can add some candy to them when I’m done?”

“Uh-huh.” Tony nodded and grabbed the bottle of sprinkles. He surveyed what Steve had laid out: peanuts, little silver balls, tiny bits of licorice, and chocolate shavings. “Nuts too?”

“You can do some with nuts and some with sprinkles,” Steve agreed, using a knife to spread some blue icing on the cookie. He knew there was a way you could do it with a piping bag – and it would probably be both easier and faster - but he hadn’t thought to buy the bags ahead of time. He set the cookie down in front of Tony, who very carefully shook some sprinkles out on top of it. From how cautious he was being, you’d have thought he was working on Dummy or the suit.

All in all, it took them a while to fully decorate the cookies. Each one ended up frosted and then adorned with some kind of candy. To anyone else Steve fully expected they would’ve looked amateurish, but he thought they looked pretty damn good. And delicious. He selected a sugar cookie shaped like a bunny and broke it in half, popping half of it into his mouth before offering the other half to Tony. The icing was a little too sweet, but the cookie underneath was soft and buttery.

“For me?” Tony said, looking surprised.

“Of course. We made them and now we get to eat them. Did you think we wouldn’t be able to?”

Tony shrugged, avoiding Steve’s gaze, and finally took the cookie. He bit off a little part of it. Steve sighed and wiped his hands on a towel before he stepped around the table. Tony squeaked as he was lifted up. Steve sat down, then set Tony on his knee. The two of them just looked at each other for a moment, and the thing was Steve didn’t even know what to ask. He knew there was something wrong here, something to do with Howard most likely, but words were definitely failing him.

Surprisingly, it was Tony who broke the silence. His voice was young and childish when he whispered, “Dad told me once that the things we created were supposed to help other people. If I spent time on something that was dumb or useless, it wasn’t worthwhile.”

“Nothing you do is dumb or useless, Tony,” Steve said. “Whether that’s a cookie or one of those incredible designs you come out with, it’s all worthwhile because it came from you.”

“But I…” Tony stopped.

“But what?”

Tony shrugged again and fiddled with his cookie, though he didn’t eat anymore of it.

Steve sighed. “Tony, baby, listen to me. It’s okay to relax. You don’t have to feel guilty about it. If you want to mess around creating something silly, or have a day here with me, there’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t have to work yourself to the bone to prove yourself to any of us. When you're big, you’re an Avenger. Part of the team, and no one is going to change that if Clint’s new arrows or the new material for my uniform take a little while longer so you can sleep. Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is wrong. I – all of us – care about your happiness, okay? You’re stuck with us.”

“Really?” Tony whispered, tears in his eyes.

Steve hugged him tightly. “Really.”

Chapter Text

The last three days had been so fun that Tony didn’t want to get up. Ever. He buried his face in Steve’s pillows and felt the bed move as Steve shifted, rolling over so that his back was to Tony. The last day of their little vacation had been very quiet, but Tony had enjoyed it just as much as the other two days. More, even, because yesterday had gone by without an interruption from Clint or a punch in the face. He smirked to himself and then winced when the bruise on his face ached.

Unfortunately, it was time to return to real life. Pepper had cleared three days, and while he doubted she’d have scheduled a slew of meetings on the first day back, there was still a lot he’d been avoiding. There was a new arrow he was working on for Clint, and Natasha’s Black Widow Bites needed an upgrade, and he was trying to create a new, lighter armor that would work for both of them and Steve. And that was just what he was doing for the Avengers, never mind the Stark Industries work that was waiting for him.

Funny, though. Those thoughts hadn’t entered his mind even once while he was being little. Normally he had a hard time not thinking about his responsibilities during a scene, but Steve’s presence had proved effective at keeping Tony consistently little – even littler than he usually was. He had to admit, if only to himself, that being a baby was a lot more enjoyable. Not having to think or do things for himself was a novelty, considering that he’d been pushed from a very young age to be self-sufficient.

Steve bulldozed right over those ideals, and he did it with such enjoyment. That was what really got to Tony. He’d gone into this thinking that Steve would find it boring or too much work, and he’d have to get used to being by himself again. But it was just the opposite. Steve had been more relaxed and open for the past three days than he’d been in months. Maybe he did like it. Maybe Steve wouldn’t walk away; maybe Tony wouldn’t end up by himself again.

Because even Tony couldn't deny that it made a certain kind of sense; he remembered watching that news report and seeing how Steve behaved towards the rest of the team, like he needed someone to dote on. It was too easy to forget about that. He peered over his shoulder through the darkness at Steve. Who cared about Steve, though? Did anyone bother to make sure that he was okay? Did anyone hang out with him outside of training? Was this the most companionship Steve'd had for months? God, that was a depressing thought.

He needed to start spending more time with Steve, he realized. It was the least he could do, considering what Steve was willing to do for him. Steve was probably ridiculously lonely: Thor was away on Asgard, Clint and Natasha had each other and Coulson, and Bruce tended to be either in the lab or holed up with Tony. Steve had been left as the odd man out all the time. No wonder the poor guy was trying to find someone to take care of, trying to make that connection in the only way he knew how.

The real question would be in how he and Steve acted from now on. The team thought they were dating, and Steve was apparently willing to go along with that. It was a bad idea. Terrible. If the public found out… God, Tony didn’t know if Steve’s reputation would ever recover. But it was a convenient excuse for spending time together. He just wasn’t sure that Steve had thought it all the way through. Which meant that Tony was going to have to explain to him, and wouldn’t that just be fun?

He made a face and, after checking to be sure that Steve was still asleep, squirmed out from under the warm covers. The room was cool and he shivered as he hurried into the bathroom. His bath toys were set out on the rim of the tub to dry, and he stared at them as he took off the soiled diaper and dumped it in the trash. Steve had bought those toys just for him. He’d actually got into the tub, a request that Tony couldn’t believe he’d dared to make, and played with those toys. And it was amazing, a memory Tony would treasure for the rest of his life – something he’d never expected to get.

“God, Rogers, you really make a habit of setting impossibly high standards,” he muttered fondly, switching the shower on and jumping in. Except for the pee he wasn’t really dirty, considering that Steve had given him a bath every day, and he just did a cursory wash. He was already feeling relaxed, and the hot water only served to help. He pushed aside thoughts of what he would do if Steve got tired of this someday and emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. He had no boxers of his own, so he snagged a pair of Steve’s and pulled them on.

Steve was still sleeping, and, even though he knew it wasn’t right because it was taking advantage of Steve letting him sleep in the bed when he was little, Tony couldn’t help crawling back into bed with him. He sighed, shivering as he drew his feet underneath the warmth of the covers, and stiffened in surprise when Steve rolled over and pressed up along his back. A lazy hand flopped over his waist, and he was just starting to wonder if he was going to have to wake Steve up when Steve blew on his ear.

“Steve!” Tony yelped, ducking his head and scrubbing at his ear.

Steve chuckled. “That’s what you get for letting the cold air in,” he said, apparently unperturbed that he was essentially cuddling with big Tony, not little Tony.

"You're the one who told me it was a bad idea to sit around in a wet diaper," Tony said, not as miffed as he was trying to make himself sound. It was really weird to say that out loud to another person. His age playing had been his dirty little secret for years. He'd never thought that he would find someone was willing to not only share it, but actively participate. It would take some getting used to.

"So I did," Steve said. "Guess that means our vacation is over." He sounded genuinely regretful, and Tony rolled onto his back to look at him. It put them in a much closer proximity, and he was suddenly very aware that he wasn't little aright now and that Steve was very close. His stomach flipped over in a way that was very familiar.

Yeah, this was probably up there on the list of worst ideas he'd had, but he couldn't help himself. "It doesn't have to be."

"What do you mean?"

Tony looked away from those too blue eyes and took a moment to collect himself. "I can't be little all the time," he said, focusing his eyes on Steve's dresser. It was a much safer target. "I've got too much to do. But that doesn't mean... it was nice, that night we went for pizza. I wouldn't mind doing that again, just the two of us. New York's a big place; there's got to be things you haven't seen yet."

"Really?" Steve sounded so surprised, it hurt.

"Yeah, really. But Steve... This whole dating thing, you know that's gonna ruin your reputation, right?"

"Tony, I already told you I don't care."

"Well, I do," Tony said, trying hard not to snap. "I know you're a big boy and can make your own decisions -" and wasn't that figure of speech ironic? "- but I just want to make sure you're prepared for how vicious and cruel the media can be. They'll say things about you, me, the team. And they won't be nice things."

"I appreciate you giving me the warning, but Tony. I really don't care," Steve said gently. He leaned over so that he and Tony were looking at each other. "The only problem I see is if you're planning on dating someone."

Tony snorted. He couldn't help it. "That's not gonna happen anytime soon." For one thing, he doubted that any potential partner would be happy about the private time he was spending with Steve - and he sure as hell wasn't going to explain. For another, any partner he had would eventually feel the same way that Pepper did about Tony being Iron Man. It wasn't a road that he was anxious to go down anytime soon. Plus there was the annoying matter of the increasing amount of butterflies he got every time he was big and Steve did - well, anything.

No, he wasn't going to be dating anyone. But he couldn't resist turning the question back on Steve. "What about you? What if you decide to date someone?"

"In spite of Natasha's best efforts, I'm not interested," Steve replied. "I haven't made a connection with anyone but you."

And oh wow, there went the butterflies again. Tony felt like he was sixteen again. He swallowed hard. "Then I guess it's not a problem," he croaked. It got even worse when Steve smiled at him, and it was that smile: the one that made Steve's eyes crinkle at the corners and his gums show and just made you feel like the center of the goddamn world.

He suddenly remembered the conversation he'd had with Pepper on the plane before their business trip from hell, and how insistent she'd been that there was something between him and Steve. That Steve watched him, and she'd been wondering when something would happen. Tony stared up at him critically, trying to see it. But he just didn't get why Steve would be interested in him like that, especially now that they were age playing together. What guy would want to have sex with someone who he'd changed diapers for?

"Did you mean it, then? You want to hang out?" Steve looked so hopeful.

"Yeah, of course. Anytime." The sad part was, Tony really meant it.

"And what about when we're around the team? Is it okay if I touch you?"

"Touch me?" Tony repeated, glad the room was dark, because he was pretty sure he was blushing.

Steve nodded. "They already saw me put my arm around you," he reminded Tony. "When we were watching a movie. But I wanted to be sure you were okay with that."

God, Steve really was too good to be true. "That's fine. I don't really care," he said, which was a huge understatement. Tony was all for that. There was a reason he used to hang around Rhodey so much in university. Rhodey was pretty much the only person Tony had ever met who would let Tony drape himself all over him without complaining. Sometimes Tony mourned the fact that Rhodey was straight, because his life would've been a thousand times easier if he wasn't.

"And the age play? You want to still -"

"Yes," Tony said, maybe a little too quickly. "I - yes. It was... good."

"Even with that?" Steve asked, propping himself up with one arm to gently touch Tony's cheek with his free hand. Tony flinched at the renewed ache, having nearly forgotten about the bruise.

"No one's ever done that with me, not like you do it," he said, surprising himself with the burst of honesty. "I'm not gonna say no as long as you're willing to keep doing it. I won't always have the time, and sometimes it'll have to be pretty short, but -"

"That's all I needed to know," Steve interrupted, still smiling that smile. "I'm gonna go shower. I take it you know where the coffeepot is?"

In an instant, Tony forgot about everything else except for the fact that he hadn't had coffee in over three days. "Coffee," he breathed reverently, squirming out from under Steve and making a beeline for the kitchen, leaving Steve laughing behind him.

Chapter Text

Probably the worst part about age playing for Tony, besides the way his work piled up while he was otherwise occupied, was the lack of coffee. By the time Steve made it out of the bedroom, Tony was huddled against the counter and watching the coffee maker the way a starving man would watch a five course meal. Steve watched in amusement as Tony promptly inhaled two cups of coffee before settling down with his third, petting the cup and crooning compliments.

It probably should’ve been a little concerning just how greedily Tony was protecting the cup, but it also made it a lot easier to coax Tony downstairs to the communal kitchen. All Steve had to do was point out the empty coffee maker and mention that Bruce likely had some all ready to go downstairs, and Tony shot past him dressed only in boxers and clutching his empty coffee mug to his chest. Steve grabbed a t-shirt from his room and followed, and even managed to coax Tony into the shirt in the elevator.

The second the doors opened, Tony lifted his head, sniffed deeply, and darted into the kitchen. Clint yelped, jumping backwards and nearly dropping his bowl of cereal as Tony zoomed by and zeroed in on the coffee maker. As promised, it was bubbling away – and with the higher quality coffee beans that Tony preferred, as opposed to the grocery store brand Steve usually stocked his kitchen with. Tony was practically purring as he poured himself a generous cup, added sugar, and slunk over to the table to enjoy.

Steve exchanged an amused look with Natasha. “Sometimes I’m shocked that he bleeds actual blood in battle and not caffeine,” she said, shaking her head.

“Well, Bruce hasn’t checked. There’s a good chance that his blood is actually more caffeine than anything else.”

“No one thinks you’re funny,” Tony mumbled, lifting his head to glare at them.

“Tony!” Bruce exclaimed, setting down his own coffee in favor of standing up and leaning over the table. Steve winced as Bruce grabbed Tony’s chin and gently tipped his head up. Tony let it happen, patiently allowing Bruce to examine the bruise on his face. Maybe it was just Steve’s imagination, but it looked even worse today than it had yesterday.

“What happened?” Clint said, looking shocked. “You didn’t have that when you and Pepper got back, and you’ve been shacked up with Steve –” He cut himself off abruptly.

“It was me,” Steve said, the weight of guilt familiar by now. “Tony tried to wake me up when I was in the middle of a nightmare.”

“I told you, it’s not a big deal. It doesn’t hurt that much, and besides I should have known better,” Tony said. He batted Bruce’s hand away. “You didn’t break anything. I learned my lesson. No harm, no foul.”

“Tony –”

“Nope, not listening.” Tony got up, whistling loudly, and took his coffee cup with him as he sauntered out of the room.

“It’s okay, Steve,” Bruce said as the sound of Tony’s whistling faded. “It didn’t look like there was any damage beyond the bruising.”

“That’s not the point,” said Steve miserably. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the feel of Tony’s skin under his fist. He’d been ready to kill Tony, thinking that he was an enemy, and if he hadn’t woken up in time he might’ve actually done it. Seeing the reactions of the rest of the team just proved it. Maybe this whole spending time with Tony thing wasn’t such a good idea after all. But he couldn’t just leave Tony alone, either.

Natasha put a hand on his arm, drawing Steve from his thoughts. “It happens to the best of us,” she said, not unkindly. “Tony’s right. He should have known better than to approach a soldier who was having a nightmare. He’s lucky that all you did was punch him in the face. The first time Clint tried to wake me up after I finally fell asleep in the SHIELD building, I stabbed him in the thigh.”

Clint nodded. “She did. I have the scar to prove it.” He put his hand against his thigh, index finger and thumb about four inches apart, to show where the knife had been. It had barely missed the femoral artery. “Though listening to Phil lecture me for three hours was almost worse than the stitches.” He shuddered dramatically.

“Yes, but it taught you to be a hell of a lot more careful in the future,” Natasha said, rolling her eyes at him. “The point is, you shouldn’t beat yourself up about this. You’ll get more used to having Tony around, and maybe on the bad nights you’ll have to sleep on the couch instead of in the same bed. That’s all.”

“Besides, if anyone can understand it would be Tony. He has nightmares too,” Bruce added with an encouraging smile. “He told me once that at one point, his nightmares were so bad he accidentally summoned the Iron Man armor in his sleep. Pepper woke up to find the suit standing over her, poised to strike, and was not impressed.”

Steve winced. It wouldn’t have surprised him if that had gone a long ways towards contributing to Tony’s and Pepper’s break-up. And he had seen Tony have a couple of nightmares – not about Afghanistan, but about Howard. It was just… even if Tony punched or hit him, he wouldn’t be able to do much damage to Steve. The suit, on the other hand… Steve had sparred with Tony while he was wearing the suit in the past. It was pretty damn strong. Strong enough to potentially kill Steve, if Tony was angry enough. He wondered if Tony still had the ability to call the suit to him while asleep.

“I guess you’re right,” he said finally. “I don’t like it, but Tony’s better equipped to deal with it than a civilian would be. And I don’t really want to stop… um, seeing him just because of that.”

“I don’t think Tony would let you,” Clint said with a smirk. “Tell me, Cap, did you end up painting him like one of your French girls?”

“Oh for god’s sake,” Natasha muttered. “Please, for my own sanity, do not answer that question.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Steve said, amused in spite of himself. “Actually, I was going to take Tony down a couple of sandwiches and then ask if one of you wanted to spar.”

“I’ll take him some food,” said Bruce, getting up from the table and carrying his dishes over to the sink. “I’ve got some questions I want to ask about some tests we were running, and it’s better if I ask them now before he gets too involved in his latest project.”

“Thanks Bruce. How about it?” he said to Natasha, and she nodded with a grin.

“Just let me finish my cereal,” Clint said. “Tash can warm you up.”

It felt good to stretch and get a workout after three days of what was basically rest. Natasha was a very skilled opponent, and once Clint joined them it became even more of a challenge. The two spies worked together seamlessly, and – for all Steve’s ability to strategize and think on his feet – when they decided to gang up on Steve it was nearly impossible to keep one step ahead of them. More than once, Steve found himself hitting the ground when an unexpected hand or foot caught him in just the right spot.

“Are you sure you’re not mutants?” he asked after he hit the floor for the fifth time, staring up at the ceiling. Two faces appeared in his vision as Clint and Natasha both bent over him. “Like, do you have a telepathic bond you’ve kept secret?”

“Fighting back to back for ten years straight will do that to you, no mutant genes necessary.” Clint grabbed his hand, helping Steve to his feet. Steve stretched, rolling his neck and grimacing when a muscle gave a painful twinge. It would heal in a matter of minutes, but that didn’t stop it from hurting in the meantime.

“Up for another round?” Steve said, but both of them shook their heads.

“Sorry, Phil told me that if I didn’t show up to finish my paperwork from the last battle, he’d make me regret it. And he’s usually pretty good at making me regret things,” Clint said, wiping his forehead. He was sweating pretty heavily, and nursing a sore hip from where Steve had tossed him over his shoulder at one point.

“And I have an appointment,” said Natasha.

“That’s okay. Thanks.” He waved as they left, but didn’t feel ready to stop just yet. They’d been sparring for a good three hours, but he still felt restless. He walked over to the edge of the room and took a swig of water, then picked up his shield. Even though he’d gone up to his room to fetch it before sparring with Natasha and Clint, he hadn’t used it. Now, though, he removed it from the bag and lightly touched the paint before looking up at the ceiling.

“Hey JARVIS, could you key up one of the training sequences for me?”

“Of course, Captain. Initiating sequence Charlie-Delta-Juliet-Six-Nine.”

Steve tensed, waiting on the balls of his feet, as the training room changed around him. Logically, he knew that most of the shadows popping up were holograms. Others were robots. Some were lasers. Each one was designed to test his strength, speed, endurance, and strategic abilities. Tony had built in fail safes in case something went wrong, and JARVIS was always monitoring, but it was easy to let himself think of them as a genuine threat. He tightened his grip on the shield and leapt forward.

Unlike when he was sparring with human partners, Steve didn’t need to worry about being too rough with robots. At first he’d felt bad about destroying Tony’s hard work, but Tony had pointed out that Steve was basically being a guinea pig and that being able to label anything with having passed Captain America’s personal inspection was an excellent selling point. After that, Steve stopped worrying about breaking things and started throwing himself into these sequences wholeheartedly.

It was fun in a way, because Steve was always so conscious of how strong he was and what he could do to someone if he forgot that. Tony had reassured him that these were just basic drones, with no artificial intelligence, so it wasn’t even like he was throwing his shield at JARVIS or Dummy. It was… freeing to be able to forget about everything else and just let his body move on autopilot, pivoting and ducking, no partners and no team: just him against the enemy.

And, in a way, it was lonely.

He fought his way through a full training sequence and only stopped when the last laser bounced harmlessly off his shield and hit the last hologram sneaking up on Steve. He straightened up, wiping his forehead, and realized he could still hear a quiet beeping sound. It took him a moment to place the sound as his phone. Tony had set the team up with their own personal ringtones, but this was someone new. He grabbed his phone and swallowed hard when he saw the caller I.D.

Pepper Potts.

“Hello?” he said somewhat nervously.

“Hello Steve,” Pepper said, and she didn’t sound any different, but it wasn’t like they had exchanged much more than causal pleasantries when she came to visit Tony.

“How are you doing?” Steve asked, for lack of anything better to say.

“I’m fine. I was just wondering if you and I could meet for a coffee.”

“A coffee?”

“That’s right. I understand that you and Tony are dating now.” And it was amazing how she could still sound perfectly pleasant, but at the same time there was a core of steel running underneath, and he realized that this wasn’t an invitation so much as a demand.

“That’s right,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry, how did you know?”

“Natasha told me when we met for lunch.”

Damn it. “Sure.”

“Great. How does 2pm tomorrow sound?”

“Sure,” he said again, trying not to sound nervous.

“I’ll pick you up at the tower, then. Bye.”

Chapter Text

Tony wouldn’t go so far as to say he retreated from the kitchen, but he was deeply relieved nonetheless that none of the Avengers followed him down to the workshop. He sighed as the elevator door opened and he stepped inside. Any guilt he might have felt about leaving Steve to face the rest of the team alone instantly vanished as the workshop came alive, lights powering on and ‘bots rushing over to greet him. Tony kept his precious coffee out of reach as he greeted them.

“Daddy’s home, boys,” he said, and the words were a little strange on his tongue, because that one word - Daddy - instantly brought Steve to mind now. It was hard to wrap his head around the fact that at this time yesterday, he and Steve had been in their own cozy little world. A world that Steve seemed to enjoy just as much as Tony did. Tony didn’t know if he’d ever stop being surprised by that.

He strolled over to his desk and took a seat. JARVIS brought his email up without being asked, and Tony grimaced at the long list of items waiting for his attention. Even though it was just past ten in the morning on their first day back, Pepper had clearly been busy. Normally he probably would’ve ignored all of it for a while in favor of working on the suit, but Pepper’d been in rough shape after their trip. Just this once, he figured it was better not to make her chase him to get this crap dealt with.

He settled down to work and lost all awareness of time, focused only on getting through (ever growing) emails, until something jabbed him sharply in the side. He jolted at the pain, blinking away the fuzziness, and saw Bruce’s grin. Tony scowled back at him, but it was hard to be angry when he realized that there was food and coffee sitting on the desk beside him. The bowl of oatmeal had gone cold from how long it had been sitting there, but the coffee was piping hot and Tony fell on it gratefully as Bruce heated up the oatmeal, gave it a stir and brought it back.

“When did you get down here?” Tony asked between bites of the oatmeal. Normally when they were working on something together, they used Bruce’s lab. But it wasn’t unheard of for Bruce to come visit him. All of the team liked his workshop.

“I came down three hours ago and left you that oatmeal, but figured I’d better poke my head in again. And nothing works better to get your attention than coffee or Steve.” Bruce came closer and reached for Tony’s chin again, tipping his head up. His fingers were gentle when he touched the bruised area, exploring in more detail. Tony submitted to the touch without protest, though his stomach growled at being made to wait.

“Nothing broken?” Tony said when Bruce was finished.

“No. You’d have known if there was, but I doubt you would’ve said anything so I thought I’d double check. Steve’s tearing himself up, you know. He feels really guilty.”

Tony sighed. “I told him it wasn’t his fault. I’m the one who was dumb enough to try and wake up a soldier in the middle of a nightmare.”

“We all said the same thing. And that was dumb on your part. Steve could’ve killed you.”

“I know.” Tony crammed another bite into his big mouth to stop it from saying that Steve would never hurt him. Because the truth was, when Steve woke up he didn’t even know it was Tony standing over him. He’d reacted on instinct. Steve had killed people before, and he would kill people again. Often with his bare hands. It was just hard to remember that when he was acting like Tony’s daddy.

“Just so long as you remember next time,” said Bruce, absently patting Dummy’s claw.

“I think I’ve got a lasting reminder, don’t you?” It was a good thing oatmeal was so easy to eat. Tony could feel the pain radiating down his jaw. He swallowed one last bite and set the bowl aside for now.

“So this thing with you and Steve… it is lasting?”

Tony peeked at him from around his coffee mug, searching for judgment. Bruce looked back at him, patient but curious. “I guess,” Tony said finally.

“You don’t sound certain.”

“It’s Steve, Bruce. I mean… he seems like he wants to… but…” Tony shrugged one shoulder a little helplessly. Had it not been for the age play, he might have confided in Bruce and asked whether he thought Steve was serious. But there was no way Tony was letting that cat out of the bag.

“Steve likes you. Don’t waste time second-guessing that, okay? He likes you just as much as you like him, and I’m pleasantly surprised to see you both doing something about it. I was starting to wonder if we were going to have to stage an intervention of some kind.” Bruce was grinning again, his smile warm and teasing, and Tony scowled at him.

“Shut up,” he muttered, blushing a little. He’d never let himself think about Steve that way, but apparently his subconscious had been doing the work for him – and not too subtly, either. He turned back to his computer and heard Bruce chuckling as he patted Tony on the shoulder. Tony relaxed, biting back a grin of his own, and got back to work.

He was deep in the middle of working through some contracts that Pepper had sent him when the alarm to assemble went off. Tony jumped about a foot in the air, one hand flying to cover the arc reactor as he looked around. He was alone in the workshop – he had no idea when Bruce had left – and, according to his phone when he whipped it out as he sprinted over to the armor, it was past 9pm. He’d been working for hours, and probably would’ve kept working all night if it weren’t for the alarm.

“There’s a situation in Central Park, sir,” JARVIS said in his ear as the helmet slid over Tony’s head and powered up with a faint whir. “Captain Rogers and Dr. Banner are on their way. Agents Barton and Romanoff are not in the Tower, but have been alerted to the crisis.”

“I don’t like it when you use that word, J,” Tony said grimly, blasting out of the tower.

“My apologies, sir, but I was under the impression that what is best defined as a pink blob that is spitting acid everywhere would be considered a crisis.”

“A pink blob?” Tony echoed, wondering what his life had come to. He was at Central Park in less than ten minutes, and sure enough, JARVIS wasn’t lying. At least it was a pretty small pink blob, and it was rolling across the water. Even as Tony watched, someone from the grass threw a rock at it. With a hiss, the blob spat pink acid that melted the rock in midair. Then it spit acid at the person who’d thrown it. Tony reacted, throwing an arm up and shooting off a repulsor blast to block the acid, realizing that the blob had a long range and decent aim.

There was a click, and then Steve said, “Iron Man, report.”

“We appear to be fighting a ball of pink pudding that woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” said Tony.

“Pink pudding?” Clint repeated. Realizing he was hearing Clint’s voice inside and outside of the helmet, Tony turned his head and saw Clint and Natasha standing on the grass below him. He landed beside them, and all three of them stared as the pink blob promptly twisted itself inside out to start rolling in the opposite direction.

“What is it?” Natasha said.

“I have no idea,” Tony answered. JARVIS was running scans as fast as possible, but basically the only thing Tony could figure out was that the pink blob was made of organic material, but not any material ever seen before on Earth.

Out of curiosity, he extended his arm and shot off another repulsor blast that hit the pink blob dead on – and then bounced off. Tony’s eyebrows shot up and Clint let out a low whistle as the repulsor blast skidded harmlessly over the water before disappearing under the waves. The pink blob began making shrill, angry sounds and heading in their direction. As a one, the three Avengers took a collective step backwards, Natasha swearing in low, violent-sounding Russian.

“Um, I think you made it angry,” Clint said, reaching for one of his arrows. He swiftly took aim and fired, cursing under his breath when the arrow bounced off.

“Maybe we should –” Tony didn’t bother to finish his sentence, grabbing both of them around the waist and blasting into the air. The blob shot across the ground where they’d just been standing, leaving an oozing yellow trail behind it. The grass immediately began to sizzle and die.

“What’s going on?” Steve demanded. Hearing the roar of a motorcycle, Tony turned automatically. Steve, suited up, and Bruce both stopped and stared at the pink blob, which was attempting to climb a tree. The tree was dying, wilting so fast under the acid that the blob wasn’t getting anywhere. It was eerie to watch, not in the least because it was a clear indicator of just how much damage the blob could do.

Before anyone had the chance to fill him in – though there wasn’t much to say – there was a huge roar of thunder. Everyone looked up. Storm clouds were gathering quickly, looking dark and threatening. Scans flashed over Tony’s HUD, and he realized what was about to happen a split second before it did: a familiar figure shot down from the sky. Lightening crackled as Thor slammed his hammer into the blob. There was a split second of quiet and then the blob exploded.

“Friends!” Thor bellowed a moment later, rising to his feet. “I have been chasing this –” he said a word in a language Tony didn’t recognize – “from Asgard. When I realized it was headed here, I was most joyous for this opportunity to see you again!” He slammed a hand down on Steve’s shoulder.

Tony landed on the ground and released Natasha and Clint. The faceplate slid back as he grinned. “You have excellent timing, Thor.”

“So I have been told,” Thor said with a wink.

“What was that, anyway?” Clint said, gesturing to what remained of the blob. It really did look like pudding now, or maybe melted strawberry ice cream. Tony made a face.

Steve moved over to him as Thor began to explain, eyes flicking over Tony worriedly. “That thing didn’t get any shots in, did it?”

“Nope. I’m fine,” Tony said. Had Steve not been such a mother hen towards the whole team, he might’ve thought this bout of protectiveness was about the age play. But that was just the way Steve was, and Tony was realizing that more and more every day. He willingly spread his arms so that Steve could look him over as proof. Steve did, glanced at Natasha and Clint to do the same, then stepped closer and set a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“Got my adrenaline up for no reason,” he said, and coming from anyone else it would’ve been a line. Sadly, this was Steve.

Tony tipped his head towards him and smirked. “Sorry, Cap. But if you’re desperate, I bet Thor could rustle up a few more of those things for you to wrestle with.”

Steve mock-shuddered. “No thank you.”

It didn’t even occur to Tony at the time to think about it. To picture how they must have looked: heads close, smiles on their faces, Steve’s hand on his shoulder, bodies angled into each other’s personal space. Almost like they were about to kiss, if you didn’t know what they'd been talking about. Since the way they were standing was nothing compared to how intimate they’d been over the last three days, it didn’t cross Tony’s mind. But apparently, someone was thinking about it.

The photos that showed up online, and in the newspapers and magazines the next morning, proved it.

Chapter Text

Just when Steve thought he’d seen the worst of the media, they proved him wrong. He stared down at his Starktab as a new feed popped up, this one featuring a picture of Tony and Steve standing side by side at one of Stark Industries’ gala events. The internet had basically exploded after the pictures of Captain America and Iron Man hit the news, and now old pictures of them were being dragged up and republished with whole new meaning attached.

And some of the things they were saying – it was disgusting. Captain America was not the paragon of virtue people seemed to think. Steve’d had his fair share of sex back in the 40s, though admittedly not since he came out of the ice. Roughly 30% of these articles had him pegged as a virgin about to be defiled. About 30% of them were speaking out again homosexual relationships period, and about 30% were positive – though not for Tony; those ones seemed to think that Steve could date any guy but Tony.

The amount of people who were supportive of him and Tony was disturbingly low as far as Steve was concerned. Tony didn’t deserve the things they were saying and it pissed him off. Even if some of it was true – he was well aware that Tony had once spent a full week in a ski chalet with only half a dozen models for company – that was all in the past, and Tony had changed. He hadn’t dated anyone except for Pepper since Afghanistan. And frankly, even if Tony still acted the same way, he still wouldn’t deserve this.

He locked his Starktab and set it aside in disgust, rubbing his face. He didn’t care that people thought they were dating, especially considering that had been the plan from the start. But he was positive there were better ways to present it all to the public than a bunch of gossip and empty rumors. At this rate, Pepper really was going to kill him at their meeting.

“Oh come on. It’s not that bad.”

Steve startled as Tony took the Starktab out of his lap. “What?”

“You shouldn’t frown that way, Steve. Your face might get stuck that way,” Tony said. He was smiling, but he looked tired. He’d clearly been up all night again.

“I just don’t like what they’re saying,” said Steve, standing up.

Tony flipped the Starktab around and unlocked it, glancing over the news feeds dispassionately. “I’ve seen worse. Pepper’s already doing damage control. She’s probably going to want us to do a press conference, by the way. Right now the biggest question is whether or not we’re actually dating. Public Relations is gonna want to spin that in the best way possible.” His mouth curled as he scrolled down a little more. “Though from the looks of this, there is no best way. Are you really a virgin?”

“No,” Steve said shortly, not sure if the question or Tony’s surprised look annoyed him more. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. This is nothing. You should’ve seen the papers in my twenties.”

“That’s not what I meant. There’s going to be a lot more scrutiny on both of us for the next few weeks.”

“I know. I guess that means we’ll just have to be extra careful,” Tony replied. “No more keeping me locked up in your bedroom.”

“Oh god,” Clint moaned as he and Bruce walked into the room. “I did not need to hear that.”

Tony winked at Steve and turned around, smirking. “From what I hear, you were the one who knocked on the door to interrupt us. Were you hoping for a sneak peek instead?”

“Christ no,” Clint said.

“Sneak peeks are usually followed by front row seats. I’d like to take this time to remind you that the Hulk is not a big fan of sex,” Bruce said. “So if I catch you two going at it anywhere outside of your bedrooms, there’s going to be a very big, very expensive problem.”

Steve covered Tony’s mouth before Tony could say whatever he’d been about to say – judging from the leer on his face, it was not something Steve wanted to hear. “Don’t worry. That’s not going to be an issue.”

“Spoilsport,” Tony muttered.

“But it is true then,” Bruce said, glancing back and forth between them. “You’re dating?”

“Yes,” Steve said.

“Great. I owe Natasha twenty bucks. I was convinced you wouldn’t admit it for another two months,” Clint sighed.

“You were putting bets on us dating?” Tony said, shocked.

“Spy, remember? Not that it takes a spy to see the way you two have been mooning over each other. Frankly I was shocked it took you as long as it did. Now tell me the truth. Double or nothing. Who made the first move, you or Steve? My money’s on Steve, but Natasha insisted you’d snap first.”

Steve rolled his eyes and left Tony to answer Clint’s questions as best he could. Bruce’s curious gaze followed Steve out of the room, and he was glad that he had an excuse to leave. Even if it meant that he was going to have sit through a lunch with Pepper. He was good at lying, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it, especially when the people he was lying to were his teammates. It would all be so much easier if he and Tony really were dating.

He drove his motorcycle to the restaurant Pepper had selected and was pleased to see that it was a small, out of the way café and not a fancy restaurant. She was already waiting for him, sitting at a table tucked into the corner of the café with a mug and a muffin in front of her. Steve made his way through the empty tables and sat down across from her. Pepper didn’t look up at him right away; she finished typing something first, then sighed and gave him a tired smile as she reached for her cup of coffee.

“I swear sometimes the Board just looks for reasons to try and overthrow Tony,” she said.

“They can’t really do that, can they?”

“No. Not over something like this. My god, the stock would plummet and the Stark Industries name would be mud. No, the Board is just throwing the same little fuss they always do.” She set her phone down and folded both hands around her mug, looking at him intently. “How are you doing, Steve?”

“I’m okay,” Steve said.

“I hope you weren’t spending too much time worrying over what the media’s saying.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like it. They shouldn’t be publishing those things about Tony. But I don’t really care what they say about me. Honestly, Ms. Potts, they’ve said some pretty nasty things about the Avengers. I think the first thing Fury told me when I woke up was not to put too much stock in what the papers say.”

“Wise advice,” Pepper said wryly. “You, Tony and I will have to talk about how you want to handle this. I’m guessing you don’t want to deny it.”

“No.”

His answer clearly pleased Pepper. “Good. It would’ve been better if we could’ve announced it first, but you never know when some jerk with a camera is going to pop up.”

“They do seem to be everywhere,” Steve agreed. “But I’m guessing that’s not why you wanted to talk to me.”

Pepper’s smile vanished, replaced by the expression she usually wore when she had to manhandle Tony into attending one meeting or another. “It’s not. I just wanted to make sure that things were okay between you and Tony, that’s all.”

“Is this the shovel talk?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No. I hardly think I need to tell you that if you do anything to hurt Tony, Rhodey and I will make you regret it. He might not have very many people on his side, but we would fight for him,” Pepper said. “I wanted to – well, not warn you. And it’s really not my place to say. I just know what Tony is like. He holds things close to his heart and pushes people away. He’d rather that than let someone in, especially if it’s something that he considers to be shameful.” She laughed a little, though it was sad. “I’m certain you’re wondering what Tony Stark could find shameful.”

Steve looked at her for a few seconds without saying anything. He couldn’t be positive that Pepper was talking about the age play, but she was right in a way – there didn’t seem to be many things Tony would feel ashamed of. But he hadn’t known that Pepper knew. He said carefully, “I think I have a better idea than you think.”

“Do you?”

He shrugged. “I can’t say it. It’s not my place, either.”

Pepper sighed. “No, I know. I just – it’s hard, with Tony. Sometimes he’s so stubborn. He convinces himself of something, and the next thing you know he doesn’t want to hear the truth. It used to drive me crazy.” She took another sip of her coffee. “He’s… vulnerable, Steve. More so than you could imagine. And you’re so important to him. You always have been, but even more now that he’s gotten to know you.”

“I won’t let him push me away. And trust me, there’s nothing he could tell me that would change how I feel about him,” Steve said, and he meant it. Tony was one of his closest friends – probably his best friend. Even now that he’d become more accustomed to the future, he’d be lost without Tony.

“You know, I almost believe you when you say that,” Pepper said, setting down her empty mug. “I really hope you’re being honest when you say that. I used to think the same way. I walked in on him once in the workshop. He didn’t know I was there. He had a closet open, the one hidden behind Dummy’s charging station?” She lifted her eyebrows meaningfully.

Steve instantly knew which one she was talking about. It was the same hidden closet from which Tony had taken his toys that time he and Steve age played in the workshop. And he didn’t think Tony had recently hidden those things there, either, which meant that Pepper probably did know. He was doing a poor job of concealing his surprise judging by the relieved expression on her face.

“I’m guessing that means you know which one I’m talking about. I didn’t say anything. I just left and came back at another time. It was… odd. I’m not sure I understand it. But…” She shrugged. “It’s Tony, you know? I might not get it, but it didn’t bother me the way it would some other people. Turned out what I couldn’t handle was the suit.”

“I’m not like you. I don’t have to wait for him to come home. I’m out there fighting next to him,” said Steve. “And when we’re at home… it’s all fine to me, Ms. Potts.”

“Pepper,” she said automatically.

“Pepper,” Steve echoed, feeling a little more comfortable addressing her by her first name now that they’d had this talk. She really was on Tony’s side. He smiled at her. “You don’t have to worry about Tony. I can’t promise I won’t hurt him, but I’ll do my best not to.”

“I guess that’s all I can ask for,” Pepper said. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Tony is…” Steve trailed off, not sure how to put it into words. It felt inadequate for everything he was feeling towards Tony, but all he could come up with was, “He’s really… important.”

Pepper’s smile widened knowingly. “That’s good,” she said, “keep that smile on your face during the press conference, and no one will be able to complain that Tony seduced you. You look absolutely besotted.”

Steve flushed. “That’s not – he didn’t –”

She laughed and reached out to pat his arm. “Oh, Steve. You’re going to be so good for him, I can tell. I’ve never been so grateful that Tony insisted on continuing to fund the expedition to find you.”

“I hope so,” Steve said, a little embarrassed but mostly pleased. As far as he was concerned, Tony deserved the best.

Chapter Text

Clint was persistent at prying for details. Fortunately, Tony was used to dealing with worse. He said very little, holding his tongue, until Natasha walked by the room, saw what was happening, and came in to drag Clint back out with her. To say that Clint went with reluctance was an understatement, and Tony had never been more grateful for Natasha’s unorthodox methods. He and Steve hadn’t discussed their story yet. They would have to do that as soon as Steve got back to the tower.

Left alone with just Bruce, Tony avoided his friend’s eye and focused on the Starktab in his lap. What he’d said to Steve was true: he had seen worse. The media loved nothing more than someone they could really tear into, and Tony had been a prime candidate for that in his late teens and twenties. Nothing was sacred. That was bad enough, but once he’d started really getting into producing weapons… there had been no holding back. It was only in the last two years that the media said anything positive, and even then that was rare.

Still, the personal attacks had always been the most difficult to deal with. Tony scrolled down the feed, feeling very tired as he read headline after headline. No wonder Steve had looked like he wanted to tear the Starktab in half. It seemed like no one had anything positive to say about the possibility of Steve Rogers and Tony Stark dating. He was half-tempted to tell Steve he’d changed his mind about the dating cover, but he also knew that would never work. Steve was way too stubborn to give up now.

Bruce sat down next to him on the couch and leaned against him to look at the screen. The contact was nice. Six months ago, Bruce had held himself away from everyone. He didn’t accept touch easily, never mind being the one to initiate it. That was slowly changing, and right about then Tony could’ve desperately used a hug. Coming from Bruce, this was even better.

“They’re wrong,” Bruce said after a couple of minutes, stilling Tony’s progress. “I know you don’t know that, but they are. You’re a good man, Tony. Steve is fortunate to have you.”

Tony snorted. “Thirty million people on Facebook say otherwise.”

“Well, they don’t know you like the rest of the team does. All the media knows is the dumb things you did when you were younger. And frankly speaking, they probably wouldn’t be interested in learning how you’ve grown up and changed, because this –” Bruce waved a hand “- makes for a much more fascinating story.”

“But maybe they’re right. Maybe you guys are just deluding yourselves,” Tony said. “No one deserves Captain America, but especially not me.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re dating Steve Rogers, not Captain America.”

Tony looked up at him. Bruce was smiling.

“Tony, I don’t know much about relationships. I’ve never dated much, and it’s not really an option for me right now. But I do know that it’s not about whether or not you deserve someone. People aren’t rewards. They’re not a piece of chocolate that you give yourself after you’ve had a long day. The only thing you need to ask yourself is if you love Steve. If the answer to that is yes, and you’re committed to a healthy, stable relationship, then no one else’s opinion matters.” Bruce slid the Starktab out of Tony’s limp hands and set it aside.

“Steve’s gonna get a lot of flack, though,” Tony said, swallowing hard. His throat was tight all of a sudden. “And I don’t know if I can make this work. Pepper left.”

“Pepper and Steve are two different people. What happened with Pepper was not your fault. Or at least, it wasn’t completely your fault. It takes two people to break up a relationship,” said Bruce, infuriatingly calm, like he’d prepared an answer for every word that was coming out of Tony’s mouth. “Also, Steve can handle it. He won’t care. What they say about you will bother him a hell of a lot more than anything anyone says about him.”

That was true. Steve was an idiot like that. But he was Tony’s idiot. Tony bit his bottom lip in lieu of being able to suck his thumb, wishing that he was alone. This whole thing was making him realize that maybe there was a little more truth to this than he wanted there to be. He loved spending time with Steve when he was little, but he hadn’t accounted for how much he liked spending time with Steve when he was big. And that was a problem. A really big problem.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t one he could share with anyone. Maybe he could go with a partial truth. “I like Steve,” he said, a little helplessly. “But I don’t know if I love him.”

“That’s okay,” Bruce said. He patted Tony on the shoulder. “That’s what dating is for. Or so I’m told. I can’t believe I’m sitting here giving you dating advice.”

Tony laughed a little. “I did promise you a whole host of new experiences when you moved in with me.”

“I just didn’t expect this to be one of them.” Bruce got up, straightening his glasses. “Have you got anything on your plate today? I could use some help with an experiment.”

“I’m all yours until Steve comes back, baby,” Tony said with a wink. Bruce just rolled his eyes, though there was a tiny smile on his face.

Spending the afternoon with Bruce was probably the best thing Tony could’ve done. He lost himself in the pure science of what they were doing, putting aside everything else that was going on. The hours flew by. He didn’t even realize what time it was until JARVIS interrupted Bruce mid-sentence to say that Steve was outside the lab, waiting for entrance. Bruce locked up several of the chemicals they’d been working on, and Tony blinked rapidly as he shucked off his gloves.

“What time is it?” he asked, meaning JARVIS, but it was Steve who answered as he poked his head in the room.

“It’s past eight.”

“Oh damn,” Bruce muttered, hurriedly stripping off his protective equipment. “I was supposed to call Betty at 7:30pm. I hope she’s not angry. Thanks for your help, Tony.”

“Anytime,” Tony said, meaning it. He took off the rest of his equipment, left it beside Bruce’s table, and slipped out with Steve in tow. He was pretty sure that Betty wouldn’t be that angry – as a scientist, she was more than familiar with what it was like to get caught up in an experiment – and that meant Bruce wouldn’t want an audience for what was going to happen next.

As soon as the elevator doors were shut, Steve said casually, “I talked to Pepper this afternoon.”

“You what?”

“We met for lunch.”

Tony stared at him, a little horrified. He wasn’t sure he liked the thought of Pepper and Steve spending time together. That could mean some awful things were in Tony’s future. “Do I want to know what you talked about?”

“She just told me a little more about the press conference and what would be expected of me. Actually, I think she really wanted to make sure that I was serious about this before we went any further. I didn’t exactly get the shovel talk, but Pepper’s subtle like that.” Steve sounded admiring.

“She gave you the shovel talk?” Tony repeated, baffled. “Why?”

“Because she loves you, that’s why. I’m pretty sure that just because you’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean she stopped caring,” Steve said, crossing his arms. He hesitated for a moment. “She also… implied something. I don’t know for sure. It wasn’t my place to ask for clarification. I’ve spent the last two hours wondering if I should tell you or not, because I’m pretty sure it’s going to make you upset.”

That didn’t sound promising. Tony did his best to pretend he wasn’t freaking out on the inside and said, “Then before we get to that – and we will definitely be coming back to that – we have to talk about our story. We need something to tell people when they ask how we got together.”

“We do?” Steve said, raising his eyebrows. “I thought it was pretty obvious. We’re teammates, so we’ve been spending more time together now. At first it was just in a group, but after a while we started hanging out one on one. One thing lead to another and I kissed you. We’ve gone out on a couple of dates since then and it works. We’re both happy.” He shrugged. “I’m not interested in some spectacular story.”

“You kissed me? How did you come to that conclusion?”

“I did make the first move several times over,” said Steve, grinning. “As I recall, you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“That was different,” Tony muttered, flushing. He couldn’t believe that Steve had actually put thought into this already. Tony had spent a little while this morning going over increasingly ludicrous scenarios, but none of them sounded even half as believable as Steve’s story.

“I can kiss you now if you want, and that will make it believable,” Steve said.

“I… what?” Tony squeaked.

Steve was blushing too, but he soldiered on. “I just figure – well, they’re going to want it to happen at the press conference, won’t they? So we should probably… I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to kiss you for the first time in front of hundreds of people.”

The elevator doors opened unexpectedly. Tony walked out, inwardly reeling, because he’d never once put ‘him and Steve fake dating’ together with ‘press conference and media’ and come up with ‘kissing’. And he was supposed to be a genius. In the span of about five minutes, Steve had turned him upside down. His initial thought was that Pepper had told Steve something to make Steve have second thoughts, but Steve wouldn’t be talking about kissing him if that was the case.

“Tell me what you talked about with Pepper first,” he said.

“Before I do, you should know that Pepper seemed to be completely okay with it,” Steve said, looking him in the eyes. “I think she knows about your age playing. She said that one time she came downstairs to the workshop, and you had your closet open – the one where you keep your toys. She didn’t say what she saw you doing, and I didn’t want to ask just in case she didn’t know, but to me the implication was clear.”

That was the last thing Tony was expecting to hear. He stared at Steve, not moving, not even breathing. It took a lot of effort to force out the question. “JARVIS, does Pepper know?”

“Yes sir.”

Tony definitely couldn’t breathe now. He needed space. He needed a drink. Except he was trying not to drink as much now, after Fury had made it clear that one more drunken debacle could get him kicked off the team. He turned away from Steve’s concerned expression and stumbled over to the couch. He collapsed more than sat, legs going out from under him, and stared blankly at the floor.

Pepper knew. She knew about his dirtiest, most shameful secret, the one he’d sworn never to tell anyone. The secret he’d struggled with for years and went to great pains to conceal. All because she’d come downstairs one day and he hadn’t noticed her coming, probably during one of those times he’d ordered JARVIS to mute so that he could work in silence instead of being besieged with reminders about meetings or food.

She’d never once given him any indication. He was frantically trying to think of when this might have happened, but no particular incident was coming to mind. The workshop was always where he’d played until Steve came into the picture. It could’ve been a year ago, or it could’ve been five years ago. Or it could’ve been right before the two of them broke up. He pressed a shaking hand to his mouth and heaved, suddenly feeling like he was going to throw up, but knowing he lacked the strength to make it to the bathroom.

Then Steve was there, thrusting a bucket in front of him, one hand gently rubbing Tony’s back. “It’s okay, baby,” he said softly, sadly. “It’s okay.”

Chapter Text

Tony was lying on his back on Steve’s bed with a cool, damp cloth over his eyes and the plastic bucket on the ground beside him. He’d only thrown up the one time, but apparently Steve didn’t want to take the chance. It was only once his anti-anxiety medication kicked in that Tony began to calm down, and even then his mind kept racing. Pepper knew. No matter how many times he twisted those words around in his head, he couldn’t quite force them to make sense. He’d tried so hard to be careful.

Most people would’ve thought that Tony Stark didn’t even know what a secret was; as far as the general public was concerned, his life was an open book – with photographs, no less. Discretion and subtlety were foreign concepts. There was a reason for that: if people thought they knew everything, they didn’t bother to start looking closely. It was one of the lessons his mother had taught him about living life in the spotlight, right up there with not pissing off the wrong people.

Pepper and Rhodey knew almost everything about him, which was why (he thought) he’d been able to hide this as well as he had. They were both smart, but he’d hoped that if one or both of them were ever suspicious they would write it off as a drunken shenanigan. Or, better yet, they’d dismiss it as something impossible. Tony Stark, interested in age play that wasn’t sexual? What kind of ridiculousness was that?

He closed his eyes and groaned. That plan was all well and good, but apparently Pepper had seen something that bypassed any cover and went straight into ‘this is really happening’ territory. The closet in the workshop was where he kept most of his little toys, though Steve’s floor now had quite a few of them. All of those toys were unmistakably for little kids, though. If Pepper had really been there while he was playing with them…

“What did she see, J?” he whispered. “And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Miss Potts was about to enter the workshop when she realized you had your closet open, sir,” JARVIS replied softly. “Being that she’d never noticed the closet before, she was curious. She stopped, and you were playing with your trucks and didn’t realize she was there. She remained outside the workshop for roughly ten minutes, during which you sucked your thumb several times and changed to playing with Dummy, before leaving. She requested that I not tell you what she saw, and my parameters indicated that was acceptable so long as you did not outright ask.”

“Fuck,” Tony muttered. That meant JARVIS had known he would freak out and was trying to avoid the inevitable. “When was this?” He was almost afraid to ask.

“Two years ago, sir.”

Two years. Tony thought he might throw up again. Pepper had probably been on her phone researching before she’d even left the tower. It wouldn’t take much to lead her to the right conclusion. She probably knew everything about his disgusting, shameful habit. It was worse than if she’d walked in on him naked; this was a part of himself that he’d never willingly shown to anyone.

“Tony.”

The quiet sound of Steve’s voice had Tony sucking in a quivery breath. He wasn’t in his headspace, but he desperately wanted Steve to fix this somehow. Then again, if it weren’t for Steve, he wouldn’t have known. Pepper wouldn’t have said anything now if she hadn’t two years ago. Would it have been better that way?

Steve sat down on the bed and slid the cloth off of Tony’s eyes. The second their eyes met, Tony felt his face scrunch up as the urge to cry became overwhelming. Steve sighed and pulled him into his lap so that Tony was sitting sideways, wrapping his arms around Tony and slowly rocking him back and forth. Tony didn’t want to cry, he so didn’t want to cry because then he would definitely slip into his headspace, and he chewed at the inside of his cheek to keep from giving in.

“It’s going to be okay,” Steve whispered after a long time, pressing his cheek against Tony’s hair. “You didn’t even know that she knew, so that means it didn’t change anything about your friendship. You guys even dated for a while after she found out, right? So clearly it doesn’t bother her.”

Tony just shook his head. Steve had a point, but that was only part of it. He couldn’t put a finger on why, exactly, he was so upset, but he was. He was a little worried about how he would look Pepper in the face from now on, but she’d watched him do any number of stupid, embarrassing stunts over the years. So it wasn’t exactly new. This was just… more private than any of that.

“I didn’t want her to know,” he said miserably. “I didn’t want anyone to know. Not even you.”

“No, I know. I remember.” Steve was quiet for a moment, still rocking them. “I get it. You feel almost… violated. Like something personal was stolen from you without your permission.”

It sounded dumb, but that was it exactly. He found himself aiming his thumb towards his mouth and stopped, pulling his hand away. “Yeah.”

The one word response seemed to be enough to prompt Steve to keep talking. “I remember the day Bucky found out I was bisexual. Actually, it was more like the day I found out that Bucky already knew.”

That stopped Tony cold. He looked up at Steve, blinking. “What?”

“We did exist back then, too,” Steve said with a wry smile. “I didn’t know that was the word for it. I just knew I could look at a fella the same way as a dame. Bucky used to joke about setting me up with dames all the time, and I was so sure he didn’t know. Even though we practically lived in each other’s pockets.” He shook his head. “Finally, one night after a spectacularly failed date, he came right out and asked me if he should be looking for fellas to set me up with instead. It wasn’t the best way he could’ve told me, let’s put it that way. I didn’t know if I shoulda been more pissed off he didn’t tell me he knew sooner, or angry at myself for not hiding it better.”

“I thought I was doing good,” Tony mumbled, sinking back down into Steve’s lap. He’d wondered a little about Steve’s sexuality, figuring that Steve couldn’t be straight if he was willing to openly date a guy. Hearing it straight from Steve’s mouth should’ve been more exciting for reasons he wasn’t going to look at, but he was just too tired right now.

“I’m sure you were. It’s just hard for anyone to hide something forever. And while I know you weren’t happy that I found out, I am.”

“Even if it means all the things the media is saying about you?” Tony asked.

“They’re saying a hell of a lot more about you than me, but yes. Even then.” Steve brushed some damp hair off of Tony’s forehead and gave him a kiss on the temple. “C’mon. What do you say we have ice cream for supper? I think we’ve both earned it.”

“I’m not little,” said Tony.

Steve shrugged. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have ice cream, right?”

He had a point. Tony nodded, rubbing his thumb over his lower lip as they got up and left the bedroom. He sat down at the kitchen table while Steve went to the cupboards and started pulling out an assortment of toppings. He still didn’t like the fact that Pepper knew, and had known for a while without telling him, but thinking about it was making him feel sick to his stomach all over again.

Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to be here with Steve. A big part of him wanted to go down to the workshop and hide until this blew over. It was how he always handled this kind of thing. Pepper would probably drag him back out sooner rather than later to deal with the press conference, but at least until then he could bury himself in work.

But trying to leave would mean a fight. Well, fight was probably a strong word - but there was no way he’d get out without Steve giving him puppy eyes to try and get him to stay, and then Tony would feel guilty because Steve was just trying to help, and Tony didn’t know if he wanted to bother with that either. He slumped over, putting his chin on his arms, and watched as Steve set two different kinds of ice cream on the table. The final touch was a couple of big bowls.

“Chocolate or vanilla?” Steve asked.

Tony sighed into his arms. “Vanilla.”

“Hot fudge or caramel?”

“… Both?”

Steve’s mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smile, but he didn’t say anything as he put at least five scoops of ice cream in a bowl and drowned them in hot fudge and caramel syrup. He added peanuts, toffee pieces, and several cherries, but not whipped cream because Tony wasn’t a fan of it. Then he pushed the bowl over to Tony. It was enough sugar that Tony might easily go into a coma from eating it, and it looked absolutely delicious.

Once he’d prepared his own bowl, Steve stuck the ice cream back in the freezer and gestured to him. “Wanna watch some television?”

“Sure.” Tony brought his heaping bowl along, and it was only once he saw the couch that he wondered where he was supposed to be sitting. He and Steve had never watched television alone when Tony was big. Sure, they were officially ‘dating’, but this was behind closed doors with only JARVIS watching.

He slowly took a seat on the end of the couch, deciding that it would be best to not make a big deal about it. Steve sat down at the other end without giving him a second glance and put some cartoons on. Tony shot him a look, because they could’ve easily watched something a little more adult, but if Steve noticed he gave no indication – as though a bunch of magical stuffed animals was requiring all of his attention.

“Not little,” Tony huffed under his breath, sticking his spoon in his ice cream. It was softening quickly because of the hot fudge. He brought the first spoonful up to his mouth and hummed at the taste, looking back at the television. The stuffed animals were rallying around some little girl.

It was a more interesting show than he’d expected it to be, and he was pleased when it ended and another episode started. He ate as much of the ice cream as he could, then set the rest aside on the coffee table to melt into a mess. He shivered, a little chilled after eating so much, and started when a warm arm was suddenly draped around his shoulders. Tony looked up at Steve, a little confused, but Steve was still watching the television. He was relaxed too, as though cuddling on the couch was something they did every day.

Well, fine then. If Steve wanted to cuddle even though Tony was big, he wasn’t going to be the one to rock the boat. Tony leaned into him, squirming around until he was more comfortable. He ended up with his head on Steve’s shoulder, but that was okay – Steve had very comfy shoulders. It occurred to him that it would be really easy to move just a couple of inches, and he and Steve would end up kissing. And that reminded him of Steve’s offer.

As though Steve had heard his thoughts, or maybe just sensed that Tony was staring at him, Steve finally looked at him. “You don’t have to be little to like cartoons, Tony,” he huffed. “Clint and I watch them together all the time.”

“That’s not a vote of confidence in Clint’s case,” Tony said wryly, unable to stop from looking at Steve’s mouth. Just for a split second, but it was a second too long. When he looked up again, Steve’s expression had changed to knowing.

Tony was ready to defend himself, or more likely pretend it hadn’t happened at all, but he didn’t get the chance. Steve kissed him, very light and very careful, barely enough pressure to say that it was really a kiss. He stopped and looked at Tony, assessing, before doing it again. Tony’s heart started racing for an entirely different reason and he barely had the presence of mind to kiss back. It lasted for only a few seconds, and when Steve pulled back he had a huge, dorky grin on his face.

“Told you I’d kiss you first,” he said.

“Shut up,” Tony muttered, flushing, and turned his attention back to the cartoons.

Chapter Text

“Look up for me, Mr. Stark. No, just your eyes – keep your face where it was.” Thin, cold fingers gripped Tony’s chin and pulled his head down a fraction. A few seconds later, something even colder was being smeared under his eyes and across his cheekbone. He tried not to flinch. The make-up artist clicked her tongue, eyebrows drawing together in annoyance. She turned his head to the right, then to the left, then back to the right, before standing back with her hands on her hips.

“Well, if that’s as good as you can make it. Miss Potts isn’t going to be very happy, but it will have to do,” said the P.R. assistant critically as the make-up artist swiped at his cheekbone one last time with her brush. There was something judgmental in her tone – Tony had the tendency to go through a P.R. team like no one else – but he ignored her, too busy trying not to give in to the swoop of panic in his stomach.

He hadn’t seen Pepper since Steve had dropped the bomb two days ago. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see her. It had taken the combined efforts of Steve and JARVIS to get Tony out of bed that morning, and Natasha’s increasingly creative threats to get him out the door. If he had his way, he would’ve blown off of the press and stayed in bed, all too willing to let the team think that it was just because he was sulking over the media finding out about him and Steve.

Which, admittedly, was a small part of Tony’s reluctance to show up here today, but most if it was definitely Pepper. Pepper and her curiosity. Pepper and the fact that she knew – had known – about him and his age play for years now. Pepper and how she’d said nothing all this time, until now, when she'd decided to tell someone that was not Tony. He’d spent the past forty-eight hours reassessing every interaction between them, picking their words and exchanges apart, wondering if Pepper had just been pitying him this whole time.

Then there was the whole, still unresolved concern about their plan to announce that Steve and Tony were dating. Steve was more committed than Tony had thought possible – and to a fake relationship at that, jesus – but Tony still wasn’t sure that he fully understood the shit storm he would be opening himself up to. Speculation was all well and fine, but once they made the announcement today there would be no going back. People were going to freak out.

Needless to say, the make-up artist had had her work cut out for her in covering not only the bruising from Steve’s punch, but the bags under his eyes as well.

“You have five minutes before you go,” the P.R. assistant said, shoving a sheaf of papers into his hands. “If you go off script, I’ll kill you.”

Tony looked up at her, blinking. “Are you new?”

She smiled at him with too many teeth. “I’ve been here for three years, and received a promotion to be S.I.’s Public Relations Assistant six months ago. Until now, I’ve been spectacular at my job. I think we should keep it that way.”

“Stick to the script, got it,” Tony said, saluting her, and when she’d walked away with the make-up artist in tow, turned to Bruce. “Why does Pepper keep hiring such scary people?”

“Maybe because they’re the best at keeping you in line?” Bruce suggested, tugging at the collar of his shirt. It wasn’t buttoned all the way, but he seemed uncomfortable regardless. Crowds weren’t his thing, but Pepper had insisted that the whole team be present as a show of support.

“Or because she likes to torture me.” Tony tried to smile, but it kept slipping off his face. Bruce gave him a funny look.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure, never been better. I just – I’ll be right back.”

“Tony –”

Tony was out the door before Bruce could finish his sentence. It was a cold, wet day, and the rain meant he couldn’t actually go anywhere – if he got wet at this point, he was pretty sure the P.R. Assistant, make-up artist and wardrobe artist really would conspire to kill him – but he stayed under the balcony's small awning and just tried to breathe. His heart was racing and his hands were shaking no matter how much he tried to stop it.

This was such a bad idea.

The door creaked open behind him just as he was leaning forward to look over the balcony. Natasha studied him critically and then said, "If you jump, I'm not saving your butt."

"JARVIS would deploy the suit before I fell more than thirty feet," Tony said absently, and hey - that was an idea. He wouldn't get wet if he was in the suit, and there was no way his P.R. team would be able to catch up with him. As a bonus, not only would it allow him to avoid Pepper, it meant that he'd be able to keep Steve from destroying his reputation any further. He might have actually jumped had it not been for the small hand that seized the back of his suit jacket and hauled him backwards. He went, arms pin-wheeling, squeaking in surprise.

"Stop being stupid," Natasha commanded, keeping him pinned to the wall with nothing more than a hand to his chest and her slender body pressed up against him. "Take a couple of deep breaths. You're not in danger. The rest of the team is here with you. You've faced the media a million times, Tony. This is no different."

"Did you paint your nails?" Tony asked. It was a dumb question, but he was positive that her nails had not been that shade of blue when they'd left the mansion.

Natasha sighed. "Yes, I did. Pepper and I did them together on our way here."

Pepper. Just the name made his chest go tight all over again, and Natasha's eyes narrowed. She was way too perceptive for her own good, but then again it wasn't like Tony was doing a stellar job of pretending here. He wasn't sure he liked the way the team was so easily able to see through him, like all of his expertly crafted masks just fell to pieces around them. Now that he and Steve actively had a secret to keep, it was dangerous. He tried not to look her in the eyes, just in case she pulled off that weird, mind-reading trick, and Natasha snorted.

"You're a dork," she said, voice filled with affection, and let go of him. "Tony, you know you don't have to do this. But you also know that anything the public can imagine is a thousand times worse than the truth. Just get it out there. Steve can handle it."

"He shouldn't have to," Tony said.

"I agree, but that's not something either of us can change. Both of you are high profile figures." She shrugged one shoulder. "It'll blow over in a couple of months when the next big scandal comes out, you know that. And in the meantime, you'll have a stubborn super soldier to shield you from the worst of it." She smiled impishly and with no small amount of glee. "I, personally, can't wait to see the first talk show host that says something bad about you while Steve's in the room. It's going to be fantastic."

"Okay, you like bloodshed way too much."

"What can I say? I get my kicks where I get them," she said, completely unapologetic. "You can either get your ass back in there, or I can ask you what's going on with you and Pepper. It's your choice."

Tony made one of the few wise choices of his life and went for the door, Natasha hot on his heels. Predictably, the first person he ran into was Pepper. His heart jumped into his throat as Pepper smiled at him; she looked gorgeous in an expensive white suit and a shell blue top with (very expensive that Tony had no doubt paid for) matching heels. She had an air of forced calm around her, like she wanted to vibrate with nerves or excitement but was just too classy to do so, and Tony was very strongly reminded of why he'd fallen in love with her in the first place.

And why they hadn't worked out.

"There you are," Pepper said easily, dumping a familiar sheaf of papers into his hands. "Now, Steve's up front and I've got him prepped. He's a little nervous about going on live television so make sure you do the bulk of the talking. There's over two dozen news stations here so please, for the love of god, try to behave yourself, okay? The last thing we need is another excuse for Jameson to run around spouting off trash about the team. Stick to the script as best you can and remember, when they ask questions, what happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom."

"Pep," Tony said, lump in his throat, trailing behind her as she blazed her way through the backstage crowd towards the stage. At any other time she would have ignored him - god knows he'd made her life hard enough over the years, whining and pulling any trick necessary to get out of public appearances - but this time, for whatever reason, she paused and turned to face him.

"Tony? What's wrong?" she asked, a little furrow appearing between her eyebrows.

He couldn't answer. At some point Natasha had circled around them and joined the rest of the team at the stage entrance; he could make out her green dress, as well as Thor's and Steve's heads, with ease. He wished he was standing over there with them; he wished they were back at the tower, sitting around the television and watching a movie together. He wished that he and Steve were alone.

"Hey." Pepper moved closer, reaching up to cup his uninjured cheek. "Tony? You're not hurt, are you? Or dying?" She tried for a smile but failed, and it was kind of funny in a way: five years ago she would've assumed he was drunk.

The genuine concern in her face was enough to prompt an answer. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Tony said, which was so far from the truth that it definitely wasn't funny, but there was no way he could say anything to her. It was mortifying enough to think that she knew, much less that she had actually hinted at the situation to Steve. He never wanted to talk to Pepper about this subject. Ever. He looked away, swallowing hard when he met Steve's eyes.

A moment later, Steve was wallowing through the crowd towards them. "Are we ready?" he asked Pepper, placing a big, warm hand on the small of Tony's back. The weight of it was comforting, and Tony felt a little of his unease disperse. It would be a long time before he felt as comfortable around Pepper again, but having Steve and the rest of the team there helped.

Pepper looked back and forth between them, frowning, but nodded. "I think so."

"Okay. Let's do this," Steve said, glancing down at Tony for confirmation. Tony nodded too. They had to get this over with, and hope that the resulting fall-out and scrutiny wouldn't be too much to bare.

They stepped out onto the little stage together. Tony was pretty much blinded immediately; he hadn't seen quite that many flashing lights in a long time. Steve guided him forward, and the next thing he knew he was standing in front of the podium with Steve still right beside him. He licked his lips, glancing over his shoulder. Amongst the black spots still dancing across his vision, he saw that the rest of the team - Natasha, Clint, Bruce and Thor - had taken up a position just behind him and Steve. It wasn't their first press conference together, but it was the first time that Tony could remember finding such comfort in having the team around.

He cleared his throat, feeling the pressure of Steve's hand against his back increase just a fraction, and began. "Ladies and gentleman of the press..."

Chapter Text

Crowds were hardly a novelty to Steve, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed them. He stood stiffly beside Tony but made an attempt at looking relaxed; they hardly needed to give the press any additional fodder. Anyone who didn’t know Tony would think he was completely at ease, smiling and even joking a little as he read from the speech that Pepper had given him, but Steve knew better. The tension in Tony’s body and the clenched line of his jaw said far more than words ever could.

When he was finished with the speech, Tony shuffled the sheaf of papers and then set them down on the podium. That seemed to be some sort of signal for the room to explode into a riot of shouted questions. Behind them, Steve caught a glimpse of movement as Bruce flinched backwards at the sound. Clint, who was standing beside him, leaned in and knocked their shoulders together.

Tony raised his hands, waiting until the room went quiet, and only then did he add, “I’m sure you guys have questions, but you know how this goes. One at a time. We’ll answer as many questions as we have time for.” His eyes flicked off stage, to where Pepper and the P.R. assistant stood. Both of them nodded, so Tony turned back to the press.

Several hands shot up. Tony pointed to one at random, a young woman. She straightened up and said loudly, “Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers, can either of you comment on how you expect this development to affect the team?”

“It won’t,” Steve said instantly, even though he knew he was supposed to let Tony answer the bulk of the questions. He didn’t like the way she said like, like it was a given that their relationship would get in the way of their work.

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you can be as unbiased about Iron Man as the rest of the team?”

“I’m telling you that I can’t be unbiased about anyone standing on this stage. This is my team. It’s my job to make sure they come out of any battles in one piece,” Steve countered. “I care about all of them, not just Tony. I might care about him the most, but that doesn’t mean much when you start factoring in super villains.”

Tony was staring at him, mouth quirked up in a faint smile. “The same goes for me,” he said into the microphone without taking his eyes off of Steve.

“And what happens when you break up?” the reporter asked.

Steve bristled. “When?”

“I think what Captain Rogers means is, we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” said Tony, cocking his hip just enough that he bumped into Steve. The contact was oddly reassuring. “Next?”

“How does the rest of the team feel about this development?” the next reporter asked.

Natasha stepped forward, leaning around Tony. “I think I can speak for all of us when we say that we’re very pleased,” she said coolly, low tone cutting straight through the hum around the room. “And that we wish Tony and Steve every happiness.” She lingered, eyes moving from person to person, as though wanting to give every one of them a silent, personal warning. Steve noticed more than a few people gulping in fear.

“Indeed,” Thor said.

Though he’d spoken only one word, the reporter zeroed in on him. “Are you saying that Asgard supports homosexuality?”

Thor’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why would we not?”

“Some people would suggest that homosexuality is a sin under the eyes of God,” the reporter said delicately, obviously aware that the wrong phrasing could and would get him unceremoniously chucked out. The event had been heavily vetted to make sure that no troublemakers would get in. As it was, Happy had one hand to his earpiece and both eyes on Tony, clearly just waiting for the word to move. Tony gave his head a subtle shake in response.

“What difference does it make?” Thor asked, and he had this way of sounding genuinely befuddled, even though Steve knew he understood perfectly. Natasha and Bruce had treated them both to a detailed explanation of humanity’s current views on several things that SHIELD hadn't covered; Google had done the rest.

The reporter was starting to look like he regretted asking. “Well… it’s just… they’re both men.”

“But they are in love,” said Thor. “I know of no god who would not be pleased about that. And if they were, they are not befitting of the title.” He was puffed up, not exactly threatening but close, and that’s when Coulson slipped onto the stage and joined them, standing on Thor’s other side instead of beside Clint where he probably wanted to be.

His words caused a bit of a stir, and over at the side of the stage, the P.R. assistant put her face in her hands. Pepper was smiling, though, and so was Tony.

“As the lady Natasha said, we are all pleased for our comrades,” Thor said with finality. “Their union is a joyous occasion and should be celebrated, not mocked or lambasted.”

“He makes it sound like we got married,” Tony muttered, and behind the make-up he might have been blushing; Steve wasn’t sure. He was too busy being struck dumb by the idea of being married to Tony. Which was ridiculous, really, considering that they weren’t even in a real relationship, but there it was all the same. To waking up beside Tony, to being able to touch him whenever Steve wanted, to knowing that Steve could see that smile – little or big – every morning for the rest of their lives.

There was some scattered ‘awws’ around the room, and Tony elbowed him. “You look like a smitten puppy. Knock it off.”

Steve did his best to wipe what was probably a dopey expression on his face. “Sorry,” he said, not really meaning it, and slotted away the idea of marriage to be looked at later. Maybe he wanted even more with Tony than he’d realized. He cleared his throat.

“Next question?” he asked, and gestured to a waving arm at random.

“So what I’m hearing is, you have no problem with Tony Stark’s reputation?” this reporter asked.

If it weren’t for the force of Coulson’s eyes boring a hole in his back, Steve might’ve lost his temper then and there. Instead, he settled on a smile with far too many teeth and said, “Tony Stark is a generous, kind, patient and frankly amazing person. I’m the lucky one in this relationship, not the other way around.”

“But surely –”

“If you’re asking,” Steve continued, deliberately speaking over him, “whether or not I mind that my partner has sexual experience, then no. I don’t. Why would I be upset about someone knowing how to give me incredible orgasms?”

Tony choked. Clint burst out laughing; Thor’s shoulders were shaking, as though restraining laughter, and Natasha and Bruce couldn’t stop their identical smirks; even Coulson smiled ever so slightly. The P.R. assistant looked like she wanted to kill Steve, but Pepper was grinning so widely she couldn’t hide it behind her hand. Half the reporters looked thunderstruck that Steve genuinely didn’t mind, and the other half looked dumbstruck that Captain America had just said the word ‘orgasms’. Steve stared back at them calmly, unwilling to back down even an inch.

“I… um… I see,” the reporter said finally. “I – no further questions.” He sank back into his seat.

“Next,” Tony said, sounding a little strangled.

“How did this happen?” the reporter asked, gesturing between the two of them. “I mean – did you seduce him, Mr. Stark?”

“Actually, I kissed him first,” Steve said, maybe a little too smugly, because Tony glared at him.

“Due to the fact that we all live in the tower, we’ve been spending more time together lately. Steve and I in particular discovered that we have a lot in common. A love for cars, for example,” Tony said into the microphone, still glaring. It was adorable. Steve had to tell him that sometime.

“When you spend that much time with someone, it just sort of happens,” Steve added. “It wasn’t something that either of us planned.” That, at least, was the honest truth. “But now that it has happened, I’ve never been happier. Waking up in this century was hard. Harder than I expected. Tony made the process a lot easier even before we started dating.” He swallowed, because that had been a little more honest than he’d intended.

“I asked Steve out,” Tony said. His ire was clearly gone; his eyes were soft and openly, surprisingly affectionate. “After he got finishing stuttering in surprise, he said yes. We went out for pizza. Hardest part was getting out of the tower without the rest of the team inviting themselves along.”

“Hey,” Clint objected.

Tony didn’t even look at Clint, just kept looking straight at Steve. And Steve couldn’t help himself. He leaned in, slowly letting their lips brush. It wasn’t the staged kiss he’d been anticipating; it was a hundred times better, especially when Tony made a inhaled with a sweet, startled sound that was for Steve’s ears alone, lost as it was under the much louder, shocked stir that swept through the room.

“One of the best nights of my life,” Steve said when he pulled back, mindful of their audience, giving them all a smile that was just a tiny bit forced. He was done with this press conference. But he also knew that an abrupt exit would just make the general public's curiosity even more intense. It was better to stick it out now.

He'd regret thinking that, later.

They answered a few more questions about more mundane topics – would they have gone public with their relationship if it weren’t for the picture (yes, eventually), who was on top (Steve sputtered and Tony just laughed), were there any fraternization rules in the Avengers (no), how long had they been dating (they'd settled on three months beforehand) - until Tony called on one reporter in particular.

The guy stood up, smiled widely, and said, "Captain Rogers, how long do you expect it'll be before Mr. Stark cheats on you?"

Tony froze.

Steve stiffened. "What?"

"Well, I know you said you didn't mind Mr. Stark's extensive knowledge of the human body, but surely you're aware of his track record with relationships. Statistically, it's only a matter of time before -"

"Before I break that camera over your head?" Steve said. He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know that Bruce had gone a little green, or that Thor was caressing Mjölnir's handle, or that Natasha, Clint and Coulson had gone unnaturally still in that spy-like way.

The reporter seemed surprised by the vehemence of the response. "It's a fair question."

"No, it's not and you damn well know it. Let me tell you something. I don't believe for one second that Tony would ever cheat on me," Steve snapped. "If, in the future, we decided to end our relationship, it would be a mutual decision, but I don't see that happening. We are both very happy, especially when we're far away from punks like you. And frankly, we agreed to do this as a courtesy; our relationship wouldn't be any of your business then and it's not any of your business now." He was so furious he was actually shaking. He had to get out of there.

He wrapped an arm around Tony's shoulders and pulled him along. Natasha appeared on Tony's other side and helped to hustle him off the stage as quickly as possible. The reporters exploded with questions, but Steve didn't spare them a second glance. He was even more relieved for the presence of the rest of the team when they gathered loosely around Tony, keeping him out of sight.

"Assholes," Clint said under his breath once they were off stage. "Complete assholes. We should teach them a lesson, Tash."

"No, you shouldn't," Coulson said.

"But Phil -"

"Leave that to me," Pepper said, walking over to them, pale with fury. Steve knew how she felt, but he didn't get the chance to say anything before -

"Hey Tones."

Tony's head popped up. "Rhodey?" he squeaked.

"What, you think I could miss you being a troublemaker on television?" Rhodey said with a grin; he was apparently expecting an exuberant hug, already bracing himself with arms open by the time Tony threw himself in his direction.

While Tony was otherwise occupied, Steve made eye contact with Natasha. Clint sighed loudly and started talking to Coulson, who probably wasn't fooled in the slightest, but let himself be distracted. Natasha smiled demurely in return and she and Steve both slipped away. It was time to have a private word with a couple of reporters.

Chapter Text

Tony noticed Steve and Natasha leaving, but he was too preoccupied with his best friend to really pay any attention to them. Rhodey couldn’t support his full weight the way that Steve could, so Tony had to let his feet drop back to the ground sooner than he really wanted to, but that didn’t stop him from cuddling as deep into Rhodey’s hug as possible. Because Rhodey, Tony had decided long ago, gave the best hugs, and Tony desperately needed a hug right now.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he said into Rhodey’s shoulder, trying to sound accusatory but mostly just sounding as thrilled as he felt.

“That’s because I wasn’t sure it was gonna happen. I managed to get three days, but that’s it.”

It wasn’t a lot, not nearly enough, but Tony would take it. Such was the life of having a military brat for a best friend. He squeezed Rhodey one last time before letting go and stepping back with a grin. Much to his surprise, Rhodey didn’t smile back. He, like the rest of the team, was glaring in the direction of the reporters. A couple of them had been daring enough to try and follow the team backstage.

“Hey. Hey, Honey-bear, ignore them. You know what they’re like,” Tony said.

“I do. Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Rhodey said, sounding deeply unimpressed. He slung a protective arm around Tony’s shoulders. “You’d think I would be used to their audacity, but I still can’t believe they asked when you were going to cheat on Steve.”

Tony shrugged and tried to smile. Admittedly, that comment stung. A lot. He knew that what was between him and Steve wasn’t real, but for a few seconds there he’d gotten caught up in the story. The potential. That reporter’s comment was like having a bucket of cold water dumped on his head. It was proof that things between him and Steve would never really work.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but we should probably get back to the tower,” Bruce said.

“Nope. We need food,” Tony said decisively. He wasn’t going to be chased back to the tower. “Does anyone feel like Thai? Chinese?”

“Chinese,” said Rhodey. “And you can tell me all about the birthday bash you’re planning this year.”

Birthday. Oh shit. Tony stopped, eyes wide, as he mentally ran over the dates in his head. Damn. Rhodey was right. His birthday was on Saturday. It wasn’t something he was really interested in celebrating after the disastrous birthday party the year he was dying. Last year, he’d thrown a splashy party because people expected that, but he’d ended up ducking out early. Not that anyone even noticed. His parties were legendary for the amount of booze that flowed.

“Uh, I forgot?” he said sheepishly.

“Fortunately, I didn’t,” said Pepper. She was still standing behind him, beside Thor, looking tiny compared to the god. “I’ve had people working on it for weeks. It’s on Saturday night at the tower. If you bothered to pay attention to the news, you’d know people have been talking about it for months.” She sounded fondly exasperated, and the knot in Tony’s stomach uncurled just a little.

“I was unaware that it was your day of birth,” Thor said, looking excited by the news. “Jane tells me this is something all Midgardians celebrate every year because your lives are so short. We shall feast in your honor!”

“It won’t really be that kind of party,” Tony tried, but Thor clearly wasn’t interested in listening.

“I brought along a small quantity of Asgardian mead when I returned to Earth. That shall be part of my gift to you,” Thor said. He was beaming.

“Guys, really, that’s not necessary.”

“Not necessary?” Clint, having finished his talk with Coulson, slung an arm around Tony’s waist. “Dude, it’s your birthday. The first birthday since you and Steve became an item. Are you trying to tell me you don’t think he’s not going to want to make a big deal out of it?”

“I hate my birthday,” Tony muttered. Rhodey squeezed his shoulder.

“Why, because you don’t like getting old?” Clint asked, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “I got news for you. It’s gonna happen anyway, so you might as well celebrate.” He dodged the elbow Tony aimed at his gut, cackling.

“I can cancel the celebrations if you want,” Pepper said. “But there’s going to be a lot of backlash.”

“I would be most disappointed if I didn’t have the opportunity to celebrate your day of birth,” said Thor. Contrary to popular belief, Thor knew exactly how deadly his puppy eyes could be. Tony promptly felt like an asshole for even daring to suggest that they not celebrate.

Bruce, sounding like he was trying not to laugh, said, “I guess that’s settled.”

Tony glared at him. “Traitor,” he mouthed, resigned. His birthday had never been a big deal. When he was younger, he celebrated with Jarvis and Anna and his mom, if she was around. Aunt Peggy dropped by a handful of times, when she was in the same country. Never Howard. His dad was of the opinion that celebrating birthdays was for children and weaklings. Even in university, after he met Rhodey, any meaningful celebrations had always been low-key affairs and that was the way Tony preferred it.

“Maybe we can have the party,” Rhodey said, as though reading Tony’s thoughts, “and then have our own, smaller party later. Just us.”

“I like that idea. I don’t think the other guy is ready for a huge party,” Bruce admitted. “I probably won’t go to the first one, but I’d like to come to the second.”

How was Tony supposed to say no to that? Somehow he’d gone from forgetting about his birthday to having two different parties planned. “Sure,” he said, giving up. “Food? Chinese?”

“I’m there,” Clint said, snagging Coulson’s wrist and towing his partner along behind Bruce and Thor.

“Hey Pep,” Tony said in an undertone. “Could you send an invitation to Betty Ross, as well as Darcy and Jane?”

Pepper smiled. “Consider it done,” she said. “Try not to get into any fights on your way home.”

“I never get into fights. Other people pull me into them.”

Both Rhodey and Pepper burst out laughing at that, and Tony pretended to pout as he and Rhodey walked away and left Pepper there. She didn’t make any attempt to follow, and secretly Tony was a little relieved for it. Things were Pepper were just too uncomfortable right now, even if it was all on his side. He’d rather have a nice, peaceful dinner with the team and Rhodey where he didn’t have to worry about it.

Well. He had dinner. He wouldn’t call it peaceful, considering that Rhodey spent most of the time grilling him about Steve. Rhodey wanted to know – in detail – how they’d started dating, where their relationship was, and if Steve was treating Tony right. At that last one, Tony sputtered a little. Rhodey just gave him a hard look and shook his head.

“I know you better than that, Tones. I was there after Sunset, remember? And Tiberius?”

Just the mention of those names made Tony grimace. “You promised never to mention them again. Besides, Steve is nothing like them.” There was no way Steve would be cruel enough to date anyone just to steal secrets, or for the fame.

“I’m not saying he is,” Rhodey said patiently. “But you’ve been in love with the guy since you could walk, so your judgment is a little biased.”

Tony choked on a piece of broccoli as everyone around him cracked up. “I have not!” he tried to squeak.

“Oh my god,” Clint said, still laughing. “Did he have a Captain America themed bedroom as a kid?”

Tony waved his hands frantically in Rhodey’s face. Rhodey chuckled and shoved him away. “Yeah, he did. If you make nice with Pepper, she might even have some photographs.”

“Photographs of what?” A strong hand thumped Tony on the back as Steve crouched down beside him. The hand stayed there, sending a wave of warmth through Tony as he coughed. When he looked around, he saw that Natasha was sitting beside Coulson as though she’d been there all along.

“Of nothing,” Tony said hoarsely, glowering at Rhodey and Clint. “Say one more word, birdbrain, and I guarantee you will never get another arrow from me.”

Clint’s mouth snapped shut so hard, the click of his teeth was audible.

“We were just talking about how much Tony liked you as a child,” Bruce said slyly.

Tony gaped at him. “Traitor! What is with you today? You're supposed to be my science bro!”

Bruce just grinned.

“You liked me?” Steve raised his eyebrows.

“I – that’s not – all kids liked Captain America,” Tony said defensively. He was done with this conversation, but he was blocked in on either side by Thor and Steve. Damn it.

“But you loved him,” Clint said teasingly, apparently deciding the threat had been a false one.

He was surrounded by traitors. Tony tried not to blush, but he had the feeling he was failing miserably. “I hate all of you,” he said, and decided that if he was blocked in on all sides the only solution was to go up. He stood up and leapt over the back of his chair before anyone could stop him, hightailing it for the front of the restaurant and freedom.

It was still pouring outside, but the restaurant had enough of an awning that Tony wasn’t getting too wet. He’d only been standing there for about two minutes before Steve joined him.

“Was that too far?” Steve asked, barely audible over the traffic and the rain hitting the sidewalk.

Tony sighed. “No. It’s fine. I just – when I was a kid, all Howard ever did was talk about how amazing you were,” he muttered, not meeting Steve’s gaze. “And he made it pretty clear that I would never be as good as you. He used to tell me that I was such a screw up, even Captain America would be disappointed in me.”

“Tony…” Steve sounded genuinely pained. He tipped Tony’s chin up until their eyes met. “You know that’s not true. I was an idiot when we first met, and your father was wrong.”

It was too hard to look in Steve’s eyes. Tony knocked his hand away. “Like I said, Cap, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I hate the fact that Howard said those things to you. Captain America was never meant to be used like that. You’re a good person, Tony. You try so hard.”

Suddenly, Tony remembered Steve saying almost the same thing the night he’d wet his bed and Steve had found him and given him a bath. The night he’d called Steve ‘Daddy’ for the first time. He bit his lip, but he must have made some kind of sound because Steve pulled him into a hug.

“You try harder than anyone else I know,” Steve said softly, setting his cheek on Tony’s hair. “I’d like to – Rhodes told me it’s your birthday on Saturday.”

Tony nodded, taking deep breaths to get himself back under control.

“Do you think… I’m going to come to the main event, but I thought that afterwards you and I could have a party with just the two of us. Little you, I mean,” Steve added awkwardly.

“Why?” Tony said, startled.

“Why?” Steve repeated. “Because you’re my baby, that’s why. And because I think you deserve to have as many parties as we can give you.”

He couldn’t deny that the idea sounded like a lot of fun. Tony nodded slowly. “Okay. Sure.”

“Okay,” Steve echoed, patting his back. “You ready to go back inside? I think Thor was stealing your food.”

Tony huffed a laugh. “He’s welcome to it.” He wrapped his arms around Steve, trying to convey without words that he wanted to just stand here for a little longer. Fortunately, he was pretty sure that Steve got the message; neither of them moved for a while.

Chapter Text

On the morning of Tony’s birthday, Steve was standing in the one of the spare bedrooms on his floor. Well, not so spare anymore. He smiled to himself, swiping an arm across his sweaty forehead and unknowingly leaving behind a streak of green paint. He hadn’t put this much effort into something in a long time, but the three days of hard work and all of the expense had been worth it. He was positive that, come later, Tony was going to be both surprised and happy.

“Can you let me know when the paint is dry, JARVIS?” he asked, walking out of the bedroom and closing the door behind him. The bulk of it was dry already; he'd just been unable to resist doing a few touch-ups and adding greater detail. It was the artist in him: he wanted it to be perfect before anyone else saw it. It wasn't finished, sadly, but it was as close as it was going to get.

“I will, Captain,” JARVIS answered. “I believe Sir will like it.”

Steve paused. “You do?”

“Yes. Sir has nothing like it. It’s not a length that he would go to for himself.”

“I hope so,” Steve said, exhaling slowly. It felt like he’d been holding his breath for three days straight – well, ever since he’d dipped his brush into paint, anyway. He wouldn’t feel 100% confident until Tony actually saw it, but getting JARVIS’s seal of approval was almost as good. JARVIS knew Tony inside and out.

“May I suggest,” JARVIS said, and then paused.

“What?”

“Based on my understanding of Sir’s previous relationships, it is considered impolite to show up to a partner’s gathering without a birthday gift,” JARVIS said carefully. “It might not reflect well on you, Captain, if you were to show up empty-handed, even if you have something that is for Sir’s eyes alone. It could be seen as an excuse, and a pitiful one at that.”

“Shit,” Steve muttered. Okay, yeah, JARVIS had a point. One he hadn’t even thought about. This seemed like the perfect gift for the baby, but now he needed to find a gift for the adult – and one that could be given in front of all their team and Tony’s friends, who would be judging Steve pretty harshly.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed. “Okay, new plan. Shower and then the mall. Thanks for the heads up.”

“My pleasure.”

Steve took the fastest possible shower that he could when his hands, arms and legs were splattered liberally with paint. He scrubbed quickly and jumped out, getting dressed in a hurry. Tony’s firs party was due to start at around 6pm, and it was already after 10am. That didn’t give him much time to leave, find a gift, come back, finish his real gift, and get dressed, especially because Tony had made it clear he was not looking forward to tonight and would probably appreciate a pep talk.

He took the elevator down to the common room. Clint was sprawled out on the couch, dead asleep and snoring, but Tony was curled up in his favorite chair. With the sun shining on his hair, he looked like a cat enjoying a late morning nap. No such luck, though; he was bent over one of his tablets, though his head lifted when Steve walked into the room. His mouth immediately curved into a smile that took Steve’s breath away a little.

“Hey,” Tony said softly, though Clint was snoring was too loudly to hear either of them. “Haven’t seen you much in the last couple days.” Something too close to discomfort flashed over his face, and Steve knew Tony well enough by now to know what he was thinking.

The fall-out from the press conference hadn’t been too bad, all things considered. Some people had warmed up to the idea of their relationship, while others were just as vocally opposed as before. They weren't making headlines in the newspaper anymore, but the internet was a dangerous place. Steve had seen enough of opinions and polls and forums to last him a lifetime, and if one more person tried to stop him on the sidewalk while he was out running an errand, he was going to start punching civilians in the face.

"I don't regret it," Steve said gently, sure that this was one of the few times in his life when he knew exactly what he was supposed to say. "Any of it. I still think it was the right thing to do."

"Sometimes I think you're a bit of a masochist, Cap," Tony said.

"Just ready to stand up for what I want," Steve replied. And frankly speaking, he wanted Tony more and more every day. Wanted him not just as his baby, but as his partner. He just wasn't sure that Tony felt the same way. It was too much of a risk to just put something like that out there right now. What if Tony got upset and decided to call everything off? Sometimes Steve felt like he was living for those precious few moments where Tony was his whole world and vice versa. Selfish as it was, he couldn't handle the thought of giving that up.

Tony snorted, eyeing him. "So the reason why I haven't seen you like, at all during the past three days has nothing to do with you getting cold feet? 'Cause I have to say, I'm getting pretty sick of the way Natasha is staring at me like I'm the one who messed up." He paused, then added, "Unless I did mess up and I don't even know it, in which case let me know so I can buy you something as an apology."

"Tony." Steve sighed, frustrated at both himself and at Tony, and went to him. The chair wasn't really meant for two, but Steve sat down anyway. Tony scooched over as much as he could, but they were still jammed together. That was fine. Steve wrapped an arm around Tony's shoulders and looked at him.

"You didn't mess up, okay? I was working on something. A birthday gift. It took me a long time to get it right, that's all. And I didn't want to invite you upstairs because I was worried you'd figure it out, and I didn't come down to see you because - well, I guess time got away from me, but also you're a heck of a lot smarter than I am and I thought you might get suspicious. I definitely do not have cold feet, and if Natasha's been giving you a hard time then I'll say something to her. It's not right to assume you're automatically the one who messed up."

"Based on my track record, it's a fair assumption," said Tony, but he was relaxing already, melting into Steve's body. Steve loved that.

"It is not fair and you know it. Especially since I'm the one who messed up. I should've made time for you. I'm sorry." He gathered his courage and pressed a kiss to Tony's cheek. When he pulled back, Tony's eyes were a little wide.

"That's, uh - it's fine. I can hardly get angry when I go on work binges in the workshop. God knows you've had to haul me out of there plenty of times."

"I like hauling you out of the workshop," Steve told him. It was the truth, but even more so now that he knew Tony didn't mind as much as he let on.

The snoring on the couch abruptly stopped, to be replaced by dramatic gagging. "Oh my god, if you two get any more wholesome I'm going to throw up," Clint said, sitting up. He looked at them in disgust. "I think I liked it better when you were bickering like a couple of five-year-olds."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Steve said, widening his eyes, and leaned in to press a second, deliberately loud kiss against Tony's cheek.

"Ugh," Clint complained, rolling off the couch and darted into the kitchen. His parting comment floated back: "If you two fuck on that chair, I'll know!"

Steve blushed, but Tony cracked up. "It would be a fair trade for the time I walked in on him and Coulson fucking in the elevator."

"Wait," Steve said, "you caught them in the elevator?"

"Don't worry. I had it demolished and rebuilt the next day."

"So that's what that was about. I thought you'd just decided that it was too small."

Tony looked a little amused. "It was on the small side when you and Thor were in there together, but no. It was mostly because of that." He paused for a moment and then shuddered. "No, wait, it was entirely because of that. I know things about Agent's ass I can't un-know."

"I don't need to know," Steve said hastily, raising a hand.

"No, you don't. However, if you're the one who messed up... you can make it up to me by telling me what you and Natasha did to that reporter." Tony was watching him with a calculating gaze.

Steve sighed. He should've expected this. "We didn't do anything. Not really. We had a very polite conversation about what you do and don't say about someone's partner, especially right to their faces. He wasn't receptive at first, but he came around to our way of thinking pretty quickly." It was mostly true. He saw no reason to elaborate by adding that the conversation had been held while Steve was holding the guy upside down off of a three-story building with Natasha crouched below, making a show of smiling.

"Mhm. And did this conversation involve knives, by any chance?"

"No."

"Guns?"

"No, Tony."

Tony pouted, but seemed to sense he wasn't going to get anything else out of Steve. "Fine, be that way. Can I see my present?"

"No," Steve said for the third time, grinning, and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth even though they were alone in the room. For practice, he told himself, because they had to get comfortable enough around the team to do that sort of thing. It had absolutely nothing to do with the way his stomach fluttered when he was around Tony. Then he slipped out of the chair and headed out of the room.

"You're being mean today!" Tony yelled after him.

"Happy Birthday!" Steve called back, laughing to himself. He decided to forego eating, not wanting to face Clint being dramatic about their exchange, and went out on foot instead of on his motorcycle. He'd learned a long time ago that sometimes New York had the most interesting of things to offer to people who took the time to look for them, and he wanted to find something like that for Tony's birthday.

It still took a while. Longer than Steve would like. Finding the perfect gift for a billionaire genius who could and did buy or invent whatever he wanted was challenging. Steve was late getting back to the tower, enough so that by the time he made it back downstairs, gift tucked under his arm, gift upstairs completed, the party was in full swung. He was blasted in the face by obnoxiously loud music the second the elevator doors opened. His eyes swept the enormous ballroom, searching through the crowd for a familiar face. Finally, he spotted Thor, dancing in a circle with Jane and Darcy.

"Well met, Captain!" Thor bellowed over the sound of the music. "Are you searching for Tony?"

"Yes!" Steve yelled. "Where is he?"

Thor pointed. Steve followed his finger and spotted Tony standing by the bar's counter, sipping from a glass. He was talking to a guy Steve didn't recognize. Neither man spotted him coming, so intent were they on their conversation, so he came right up behind them. He was just in time to hear the man scoff.

"Seriously, Tony? You're reaching higher than ever if you think Captain America is really interested in you. Your dad must be rolling over in his grave."

Yeah, no.

Steve shoved the gift into Tony's hand and grabbed the guy by the arm. Ignoring Tony's sputtering behind them, he marched the guy across the room and out on the balcony. The guy was trying to yank away from him, but Steve's grip was too tight, and he didn't let go until they were outside and the doors were closed behind them.

"What the fuck is your problem?" the guy demanded, wrenching away only because Steve chose to let him.

"My problem is that you're upsetting my boyfriend on his birthday," Steve said calmly. Too calmly. He was officially done with this whole century and how they thought they could treat Tony.

"Your boyfriend? You're - oh." The guy's face changed, deepening into a scowl. "Never mind. I was going to warn you, but frankly you deserve whatever he does."

Steve smiled with too many teeth. "I think you should leave."

"You can't just -"

"You can through the door or over the balcony, your choice."

"I'm Tiberius Stone. Don't you know who I -"

"I don't care, but you've got thirty seconds to decide how you're leaving before I make the decision for you. I'm pretty sure you'd rather it be through the door than over the side of the balcony."

Chapter Text

Tiberius paled a little, eyes darting towards the balcony. They were on the 50th floor of the tower. It was a long way down. But surprisingly he didn't back down, instead puffing up and glaring at Steve. "You can't treat me like this. You're Captain America!"

"Wrong. Tonight, I'm just Steve Rogers. And you're the asshole who is berating my boyfriend at his birthday party," said Steve. "I've been listening to everyone throw their opinions around for days, and you have officially gotten on my last nerve. Tony is everything to me, and I'm not going to let anyone fill his head with more lies. The only one who gets to decide whether or not me and Tony are in a relationship is me and Tony. Do you understand that?" He was looming now, inches away from Tiberius's white face.

"I - yes." Tiberius visibly swallowed.

"Good. Then I want you to turn around, go through those doors, and leave. If you so much as look at Tony on the way by, I'm going to know. And next time I won't offer you the option."

For a moment, it seemed like Tiberius was going to press the issue. He opened his mouth, glanced at Steve's arms, then closed it. He stepped away, moving quickly toward the balcony doors. Just before he slipped through, he said, "I hope Stark breaks your heart."

Steve briefly considered going after him for the comment, but figured that it wasn't worth it. He did step up to the door and watch to make sure that Tiberius obeyed the command he'd been given. He wasn't surprised in the least when someone landed lightly beside him on the balcony. Clint straightened up, wearing a dark suit, purple shirt and a tie dangling loosely over one shoulder, smirking, and peered through the door with him. They both watched as Tiberius cut straight through the dance floor and went out the door, never once looking in the direction of Tony who was now flanked by Natasha and Rhodes.

"Damn Steve," Clint said finally. "I thought he was going to piss himself when you said you were thinking about throwing him over the side."

"I was going to do more than just think about it," Steve said darkly. His role was to protect people, he knew that, but frankly speaking it hadn’t taken him long to learn that some people just weren't worth being saved.

Clint grinned. "This is why I like you, Cap. Even if Coulson did make me scale a balcony in a suit just to make sure that someone would be around to catch Stone if you actually went through with your threat."

"Coulson was listening?"

"Probably, but let's be honest: it didn't take a genius to figure out what you were intending to do with him, not with the look on your face and the way you were hauling him along behind you." He studied Steve for a moment, then raised his eyebrows and let out a low whistle. "Oh, wow. You don't even know who that was, do you?"

"He said his name. I wasn't paying attention," Steve said, wondering where Clint was going with this; he just wanted to get back inside to Tony.

"That was Tony's ex-boyfriend," Clint said. "I don't know the whole story, but I don't think it ended amicably. Considering how much of a douchebag that guy was..." He trailed off, probably because Steve was already moving.

One advantage to his height was, unlike when he was younger and got lost in crowds that Bucky wasn't around to pull him through, now people got the hell out of his way when he was on a mission. Tony straightened up and turned to face him as Steve approached. Steve gave him a quick up-and-down, but Tony didn't look too bad. There were a few lines of strain across his forehead and he wasn't exactly smiling, but then again Tony hadn't been looking forward to the party in the first place. With people like that hanging around, Steve understood why.

"I see you reigned in the caveman tendencies enough not to kill," Tony said, but there was amusement in his eyes. "Did you put the fear of god into him?"

"More like the fear of being tossed over the balcony," Clint said, stepping around Steve to sling an arm around Natasha's shoulders. He probably would've gotten at least an elbow if not a knife to the ribs for that, but Natasha had a huge drink in her hands and ended up just rolling her eyes.

Rhodes snorted. "You should've thrown him over. He deserved it."

"Rhodey," Tony scolded, though he was hard-pressed to hide his smirk. "I was doing just fine, you know," he added to Steve. "You didn't need to interfere. I can fight my own battles."

"I know you can," Steve said, refusing to feel guilty. "But you don't have to do it alone anymore. We're a team, remember? I wouldn't just do that for you, Tony. I'd do it for anyone who hassled one of us. The next time one of Ross's soldiers comes around, I'm not giving them the option. They're just going over the balcony."

Tony laughed, and some of the tension eased. "I'm not sure whether Bruce would thank you for that or not."

“Sure he would,” Natasha said, finishing her drink. She stepped forward; she looked gorgeous in a pretty blue dress, and she held her hand out Tony. “Let’s dance.”

“Sure,” Tony said with an easy grin, and took her hand. They cut a striking figure as they walked out on the floor together.

Clint had wandered off, leaving Steve alone with Rhodes. It didn’t take long before Rhodes cleared his throat. “I heard that you guys are dating now,” he said in a tone that wasn’t exactly friendly.

Steve nodded. “Yes, we are.” He didn’t take his eyes off Natasha and Tony. Not because he was jealous, but because that was a sight to be appreciated. Especially when Tony dared to put his hands on Natasha’s hips and pull her in close before dipping her back in an exaggerated move completely unsuited to the music playing.

“Tony is very important to me,” Rhodes said, also watching them. He wasn’t making any effort to either raise or lower his voice, so in spite of the music Steve heard him just fine. “He’s an asshole sometimes, and he has no self preservation instincts whatsoever. He pushes people away. But his father was an even worse asshole, and because of that Tony looks for affection just about anywhere he can find it. Once you have his loyalty, it’s forever. You’d have to break his heart to get him to change his mind, and sometimes not even that’ll do it.”

“There a reason you’re telling me this?” Steve asked.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew how precious Tony was.”

“I know,” Steve said quietly. “Tony made this century bearable for me, Colonel. I don’t know where I would be without him.” The truth of the admission made him ache somewhere deep inside. Where would any of the avengers be without Tony? They certainly wouldn’t be a team, that was for certain.

“Good. I also don’t think I have to tell you this, but if you break his heart they’ll never find your body.”

“You’d kill me?” Steve said, finally turning to look at him.

Rhodes smiled. “I wouldn’t have to,” he said cheerfully. “I mean, sure I’d kick your ass and make you regret it. But Pepper is the one who would actually kill you, and she’d make it a thousand times more agonizing than I could.” He nodded his head, and Steve turned back to see that Pepper had joined Tony and Natasha. Tony was laughing as they spun him around.

Thinking about Pepper’s pleasant smile in the diner that day, Steve winced. “Noted, but I have no plans to break Tony’s heart. Ever.”

"Good." Rhodes's smile became more genuine, and he thrust a hand out in Steve's direction. "We were never formally introduced. James Rhodes."

"Steve Rogers," Steve said, shaking his hand. Rhodes had a firm grip, but he didn't try to squeeze Steve's hands the way some people had. "You're Tony's best friend. He talks about you a lot. What are the chances I could get you to tell me some embarrassing stories from when he was a kid?"

Rhodes threw his head back and laughed. "I think I can swing that."

It was another couple of hours before Darcy approached and gave them the signal. Steve, who had spent pretty much the whole party talking with Rhodes and exchanging stories about Tony, was relieved to slip out of the room. Pepper had assured them that no one would even notice Tony's departure; most of the guests were now at least slightly intoxicated, and they'd be allowed to continue party until around 2am when security would assemble to guide out the last of the stragglers. In the meantime, they all had another party to get to.

Bruce had been busy while the rest of them were downstairs. He'd decorated the living room with streamers and balloons, and had ample food ordered from their favorite pizza place. There was a large cake with unlit candles sitting on the coffee table, with a small stack of presents on the ground beside it. The team, Rhodes and Pepper filtered in one by one and took their seats around the room. Tony and Jane were the last to come in, and the look of shock on Tony's face was well worth all the effort.

"Happy Birthday," Bruce said warmly, smiling at him.

"Thanks," Tony said, eyes flicking around the room. Steve grinned when those eyes fell on him - he was sitting on the couch in between Coulson and Darcy - and held out a hand. Tony came to him quickly, and Steve wrapped an arm around his waist and tugged Tony down into his lap because there really wasn't enough room for four people to sit side by side, not when one of them was Steve. Or at least, that was the excuse he was using.

"Food first or presents?" Pepper said, clapping her hands.

"Presents!" Clint shouted.

"You are not actually five years old, contain yourself," Coulson said dryly, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Clint just grinned and sauntered over to him, kneeling gracefully on the ground and resting his head against Coulson's knee. They all gazed at Tony expectantly.

Tony seemed a little dazed at the attention. Steve would have called it 'shy' in any other person. He slowly picked up a present and set it on his lap. Over his shoulder, Steve saw that it was a gift from Natasha. Tony unwrapped it quickly, pulling the top of the box open to reveal... a SHIELD file folder.

"Um, what's this?" Tony said, picking up the folder.

"Read it," Natasha said.

Frowning, Tony flipped the file open. His eyebrows shot up, and so did Steve's. Steve had read the initial report that Natasha had written about Tony for Fury. It was full of things that were less than complimentary, sometimes outright insulting. Tony would never admit it, but Steve knew damn well that report had been a sticking point between Natasha and Tony from day one. Apparently Natasha knew it too, because she'd gone through and formally redacted much of her initial report. In its place, she'd written out a new report that was far more flattering (and honest, as far as Steve was concerned) towards Tony's personality and abilities.

"Iron Man yes; Tony Stark yes; both recommended," Tony read in a shaky voice.

"I should have done that a lot sooner," said Natasha. She was watching him, her eyes clear, smile soft and surprisingly fond. "My original report was... biased. Happy Birthday, Tony."

Tony took a deep breath. "Thank you," he said in a clear attempt to make his voice steadier, and looked up at her. "Seriously... thanks."

Chapter Text

The presents ranged from outright silly to sweet, but Tony was touched by every single one. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a birthday where anyone aside from Pepper and Rhodey went to the effort of getting him a gift. He wouldn’t have been willing to admit it out loud, but he was pretty sure that the last person to do so might have been Peggy – but not along after, she’d started succumbing to Alzheimer’s, and pretty soon she didn’t even remember who Tony was anymore.

“That one next,” Clint said, pulling Tony out of his thoughts. He looked up and blinked, realizing that he had stopped opening gifts even though there was still a small pile in front of him. Clint was pointing to a box wrapped in blue paper. The grin on his face suggested he knew what was inside, even though Tony had already opened his (a coffee mug with ‘WORLD’S DUMBEST GENIUS’ emblazoned on the side).

Tony took the box and read the tag. It was from Coulson. A little wary, he ripped the paper off and opened it. His eyes widened. It was a Captain America plushie, but not the new kind they’d just started producing. This one was a little more old-fashioned, with an outfit styled after the original uniform. He traced a finger across the front of the star on the front, overwhelmed and feeling his face grow hot.

How did Coulson know exactly how much Tony had wanted one of these when he was a kid?

“Thanks,” he said after a few seconds, once he’d successfully swallowed the lump in his throat. “This must have been hard to track down.”

Coulson shrugged. “I know a few people. You’re welcome.”

Steve took the plushie so that Tony could keep opening gifts, tucking it under the crook of his arm. His other arm remained firmly wrapped around Tony’s waist, so Tony felt the way that Steve tensed when he reached for the next gift. It was large, rectangular and flat, hard to the touch when Tony pressed his hand against the top. Wondering what could possibly make Steve nervous, Tony tore a little of the paper away.

“Oh… wow,” he whispered, stunned. He carefully ripped apart the rest of the wrapping paper, smoothing his fingers over the glass. It was a picture of the team, but not in their uniforms. The media made sure there were plenty of those, but there weren’t many pictures like this - especially since Tony was positive that this one had been painted by Steve’s hand.

In the picture, Steve and Tony, wearing jeans and a grease-stained tank top like he’d just walked out of the workshop instead of either suit, were at the forefront. They were standing side by side, but it seemed to Tony that there was an intimacy in the way that they naturally leaned in towards each other, like they were sharing a secret.

To the left of Steve, Coulson was talking into his phone, while Clint splayed himself out in the sun like an overly large tomcat. Natasha was sitting on top of him – literally, her butt planted was firmly on Clint’s belly, like she’d just beaten him in a tussle. From the satisfied smirk on her face, that was exactly what had happened. Pepper was kneeling on the grass beside Natasha, laughing, hair loose around her shoulders.

To Tony’s right was Rhodey, leaning against Tony’s shoulder, and then Bruce who was fiddling with his glasses and smiling shyly, arm wrapped around Betty. Thor, Jane and Darcy were in the background of the image; Thor had an arm around both women and was lifting them up so that they could be seen over Rhodey and Tony while laughing boisterously.

“Steve, that’s amazing,” said Pepper.

“You have quite a gift,” Thor said, nodding approvingly.

Steve shifted, and Tony didn’t have to look back to know that he was embarrassed. “Thanks. I thought Tony might want it for –”

“The living room,” Tony decided. “So that everyone can see it. Right above the couch.” He twisted, eyeing the space above the couch. Yup, it would go nicely: the dark frame would stand out against the pale blue wall.

“In here?” Steve said, surprised and blushing a little.

“Yes. Thank you,” Tony added, meaning it. He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Steve’s mouth: startled when Steve’s hand came up, cupping the back of Tony’s head, and Steve deepened it just a little, licking at Tony’s bottom lip and prompting a shiver from Tony.

“Hey, now. There are other people in the room,” said Rhodey.

“You’ve seen way worse,” Tony mumbled into the kiss, but he backed off regardless. It was a damn good thing he had the arc reactor, because his heart was doing triple time in his chest.

Rhodey made a face at him. “Just because I’ve seen worse doesn’t mean you need to add to my collection of trauma,” he said wryly.

“Wait, it sounds like there’s a story there,” Darcy said.

“Don’t you dare,” Tony said instantly. There had been a constant media presence around him during his days at MIT- that was right around the time that Howard’s inventions were really stepping up, and Tony’s outrageous actions were seen as the perfect fodder to bring his father down a peg or two – but they hadn’t seen even half the shit that he’d gotten into. Rhodey, on the other hand, had been front and center for a good 90% of it.

“I can’t talk with my mouth full of food,” Rhodey said, smirking, and Tony almost fell over himself in his haste to get off of Steve’s lap and open a box of pizza.

Bruce had ordered plenty of food, even for their crew. Tony grabbed a cheeseburger and a slice of pizza and joined him, Betty and Jane for some science talk. Jane was deep into researching the Bifrost and her results were fascinating, even though she’d only tackled the tip of the iceberg of what there was to learn. It didn’t help that while Thor was willing to answer any questions she might have, his answers often caused more confusion than not.

“There is still a ton of information to be learned, but I already have the feeling that I’m drawing the wrong conclusions. I’m missing too much data, and as much as he tries, Thor can’t really explain. He’s more the type to just know that it works and not question why it does. So I’m pretty sure I might have to take a trip to Asgard soon to see it from the other side,” Jane concluded in between bites of orange chicken.

Tony and Bruce exchanged a look, and then Bruce said, “You don’t sound thrilled about that.”

“It’s just… you know…” Jane made a motion with her chopsticks. “Meeting the in-laws is nerve wracking enough when they’re not the king and queen of another planet.”

“Point,” Tony said, grimacing.

“Don’t worry,” Betty said. “Even if it goes miserably, that doesn’t mean anything.” She patted Bruce’s hand, and Bruce gave her a soppy smile in return. Clearly things were going well for them now.

“Yeah, I know. Besides, when I think of the data I could get…” Jane’s eyes went all dreamy.

“We’ll have to work on building smaller equipment. The more you can carry with you, the better,” said Tony, interested and excited by turns. This had the potential to revolutionize science. He was convinced that a good portion of what Thor could do wasn’t really magic, but science that was light-years ahead of humanity. If they could understand even a fraction of it…

Betty seized an empty pizza box, ripped off the lid and flipped it over. She produced a pen from nowhere and bent over the cardboard. “Let’s make a list.”

Sometime later, someone tapped Tony on the shoulder. He blinked, looked around and came face-to-face with a Captain America plushie, Steve’s grinning face just behind it.

“Sorry to break up the science fest going on over here, but it’s almost 3am and everyone else is asleep,” Steve said.

Tony followed his gaze, realizing that Steve was right. Natasha and Pepper were curled up together on the couch; Rhodey was passed out with his head on Pepper’s thigh. Coulson and Clint were missing, probably gone back to their own room since Coulson had trouble with his chest wound if he slept upright. Darcy was passed out on the floor beside Thor, who was lazily running his fingers through her hair while he watched the muted television.

“Oops, I guess we kind of monopolized your time,” Jane said with a guilty smile.

“Best party ever,” Tony told her, meaning it, and let Steve pull him to his feet. He swayed a little when he was standing; not drunk, not from a couple of beers, but pleasantly tired. Steve pressed the plushie into his hands and wound an arm around his waist.

They said their good nights and left Bruce and Betty cuddling in the chair, while Jane tried to perk Thor and Darcy up enough to move to a bed. Tony doubted she would have much luck. He leaned comfortably against Steve as the elevator doors closed, trying to muffle a yawn. This had been one of the best birthdays ever, and he was a little sorry to see it end.

“Are you too tired for anything else?” Steve asked as the doors opened to his floor.

Tony blinked, suddenly remembering Steve’s offer of a party with just the two of them, and quickly shook his head. “No way! I want to know what you have planned.”

Steve smiled. “How about a compromise? You can see one gift tonight, and the rest can wait until tomorrow when we’re both a little more alert.”

“Fine,” Tony said reluctantly, but only because he knew Steve wouldn’t budge. Also, the longer he was standing the more tired he got. Maybe staying up for forty-eight hours straight before the party hadn’t been the best idea, but honestly he hadn’t expected it to be as awesome as it was.

“Just stay here for a moment,” Steve said, and then slipped into the hall. Tony couldn’t see where he went, but he heard a door open and close.

He sighed and, after a moment, sat down on the couch. He looked down at the plushie in his lap. It was pretty cute. There was blue fabric over the head in a rough replica of Captain America’s mask. The same fabric made up the bulk of the uniform, save for the little belt around the plushie’s waist. He rubbed one of the feet between his index finger and thumb, relishing in the softness.

This was supposed to be a party for Steve and Tony’s little side, which meant that Steve was probably expecting him to relax into his little headspace. But it wasn’t that easy. He was keyed up from talking with Bruce, Betty and Jane, and he just didn’t feel little right now. He frowned, frustrated at himself – and the more frustrated he got, the less little he felt.

“Sorry,” Tony said as soon as Steve walked back into the room.

“Sorry?” Steve repeated, both eyebrows raised.

“Maybe we should wait? I’m not little right now. I tried, but I can’t –”

“Tony, whoa, hey. You don’t have to be little,” Steve said, very gently, and came over to help him up. “I said we could wait for tomorrow. And this is something that’s probably best viewed when you’re big, anyway.”

That definitely made Tony curious. He tucked the plushie under his arm and followed Steve down the hall. “What exactly did you – oh.”

Whatever else Tony was going to say died an immediate death the second he stepped into the room. His mouth fell open and all he could do was stare at what was undeniably a nursery. Someone – Steve – had painstakingly sketched a jungle onto two of the walls; one of them was fully painted, depicting exaggerated plants and cartoon-like animals. Tony spotted an elephant, a monkey, a zebra and a lion in just a few seconds.

Overhead, the ceiling was painted two different shades of blue. One side was a beautiful pale blue with fluffy clouds, and the other half was dark blue with thousands of silver dots for stars. It had to have taken hours, and the amount of care that had gone into it – Tony could see a constellation for crying out loud – was breathtaking.

“It’s not done yet,” said Steve, stepping up behind him. “I didn’t have enough time. I plan to sketch out the other two walls over the next couple of weeks and then finish painting, but I wanted you to at least see what the finished walls would look like.

Tony couldn’t speak. He just kept looking. There were boxes stacked in the middle of the room; they’d been covered before by large white drop cloths, but now those were pulled aside so that Tony could see the adult-sized crib. The changing table. The playpen. The toy chest. The rocking chair. All of it in a beautiful cherry wood, just waiting to be put together.

“JARVIS helped me find the furniture. I thought you and I could put them together when the room is finished,” Steve said, sounding a little nervous. “Tony, is this okay? Give me some kind of reaction here. I know it was presumptuous of me to do this without talking to you first. If... if you hate it, just say it.”

Hate it? Tony didn’t have the words to express what was going through him right now, but he knew that hatred or even dislike were the very opposite of what he was feeling right now. All he could do was react. He turned to Steve, gripped the front of Steve’s shirt, and pulled him into the deepest, most passionate kiss that Tony Stark was capable of.

Chapter Text

For one of the few times since he’d come out of the ice, Steve woke up feeling warm. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the cause: Tony was laying in bed beside him. Though there was no physical contact between them – Tony was, in fact, hanging halfway off the bed in a way that could not be comfortable – their combined heat had built up underneath the covers. Some people might have found it suffocating, but Steve just closed his eyes again, taking a long moment to fully bask in the heat.

That moment was ruined when Tony fell off the bed.

“Ow, shit!”

“Tony.” Steve had to laugh. He sat up and peered over the side of the bed, finding a very disgruntled Tony rubbing at his hip. “That was graceful.”

“Shut up. We can’t all have super soldier serums keeping us young,” Tony grumbled, sitting up.

Steve just grinned, too happy to bother vollying back a smart remark about Tony’s age. He’d fallen asleep thinking about Tony’s reaction to the nursery, which was more than Steve could’ve hoped for. It wasn’t easy to surprise Tony Stark, but Steve had definitely accomplished that if the expression of genuine shock on Tony’s face had been any indication.

Then Tony had kissed him. Steve licked his lips, remembering that moment. It had surprised the hell out of him, but not so much that he hadn’t eagerly reciprocated. They’d stood there in the room, kissing and cuddling, for at least half an hour, and if Tony’s eyes were a little shiny when they finally separated, Steve made no comment. Not just because drawing attention to it was a sure way to make Tony’s shields snap up, but because speaking at all would’ve ruined the moment.

He’d silently led Tony to his bedroom, where – by unspoken agreement – Steve had stripped to his boxers and Tony to just a t-shirt and boxers, and both had climbed into bed. It was the first time they’d shared a bed when Tony wasn’t in his little headspace, and the nightmares about the ice hadn’t come once. Steve wondered if there was a way to make it happen more often.

“Well? Are you going to sit there grinning or help me?”

Steve startled, automatically reaching out to grab the hand that Tony had extended. He pulled Tony up effortlessly, noticing the way that Tony winced a little with discomfort, and couldn't resist asking, “Want me to kiss it better?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking big me or little me?” he asked, and then, before Steve could respond, he added, “I’m rested and you mentioned other presents last night.”

“You’re spoiled,” Steve said affectionately. He didn’t mean it as an insult, but he regretted the comment when Tony’s smile tightened just a little. It was probably something that Tony had heard a lot as a kid, and while he was spoiled in some ways, in others he wasn’t. Tony hadn’t been expecting presents at all; he was used to giving, not receiving.

“The nursery was –” Tony started, looking awkward, but Steve held up a hand to stop him. He wanted to show Tony everything first.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m just teasing. I did buy you a few more things, and I’d love to show them to you. Do you want my help getting dressed for the day?” He was fully expecting Tony to say no; the last time Steve had offered to diaper and dress Tony in an effort to help get him into his little headspace, Tony had (not unreasonably, in Steve’s opinion) refused immediately.

Shockingly, Tony nodded. “Okay.”

Steve bit back the ‘really?’ that wanted to jump out and smiled instead. “Let me get ready.” He stood up and walked over to the closet, where he’d been keeping the diaper bag until the nursery was finished. He also took out the plastic changing mat, which he spread out on the bed. It wasn’t really necessary, but he figured that realism was important.

That done, he turned to Tony and waved a hand. “Sit down.”

Very slowly, Tony sat at the edge of the bed. He jumped a little when Steve touched him, but obligingly raised his arms when Steve pulled up the hem of his t-shirt. Steve tossed the shirt aside to be washed and pushed gently at Tony’s shoulders, encouraging him to lay back. His face turned pink but Tony obeyed, propping himself up a little on his elbows so that he could still see what Steve was doing.

That was fine. Steve reached for the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, dropping them on the floor. He ignored Tony’s embarrassment and easily lifted his hips, sliding a diaper under his butt. A quick dusting of baby powder between Tony’s thighs and he pulled the diaper up, smoothing the straps into place. It was quick, lasting less than two minutes, and though Tony was clearly mortified, he didn’t say a word of protest.

So Steve took a bodysuit from the bag, unfolded it and knelt on the bed to lift Tony’s upper half. Tony was surprisingly limp during the process, letting Steve manipulate his arms into the sleeves without trying to help. Steve hooked it down between his legs and snapped it shut. This one was plain blue, covered with a pattern of little yellow stars. The light of arc reactor shone through the material.

“Good boy,” Steve said softly, speaking for the first time since they’d started. He ran his fingers through Tony’s hair. It was a little greasy. He’d have to give Tony a bath later.

Tony blinked up at him, eyes a little hazy. Not down in his little headspace yet, but getting there. Steve left him on the bed long enough to haul on jeans and a shirt before returning, lifting Tony carefully into his arms. It felt like it had been weeks since he’d last held Tony like this, even though it hadn’t been that long at all. He rubbed his cheek against the top of Tony’s head and swayed him back and forth, relishing in the way that the tension slowly started to drain out of Tony.

“Wanna go watch some cartoons?” Steve whispered, keeping his voice low. “Or maybe we should try finger-painting again. We could play hide and seek, or read together… We could bake something again…” He trailed off, walking over to the window. New York was, as ever, busy below them; the lines of traffic were mesmerizing in a way, a steady pattern that Steve sometimes watched on the nights he couldn’t sleep.

He wished he could take Tony outside. Even if it was just for a walk down the street. Baby Tony would love it. Steve could just picture him splashing through puddles or playing in freshly fallen snow, or visiting the zoo or playing on a playground. Maybe someday they could figure out how to make it happen. A cabin in the woods, maybe, away from seeing eyes. Now that the team thought they were dating, no one would think twice about the two of them wanting to get away on a private vacation.

They stood there for several minutes while Steve let his mind wander, daydreaming about the cabin. It would be fun to go in the summer, but he thought the winter might be even better. If there was a pond or a lake nearby, they might be able to do some skating. Make snowmen. Curl up in front of the fire with hot chocolate. Basically everything he’d wanted to do when he was a kid, but which his mom couldn’t afford.

Tony shifted in his arms, bringing Steve out of his daydream, and tucked his thumb into his mouth. His eyes were half-lidded and he was making snuffly sounds as he sucked at his thumb. Steve smiled and stopped rocking him to turn away from the window. He’d have to make sure that Tony’s rocking chair was close enough to the window for them to see out; the view had done an excellent job at calming Tony down and easing him into his headspace.

Anxious as he was to see Tony open up some presents, breakfast came first. Steve carried him into the kitchen, smile growing when he saw one of the surprises he hadn’t left in the nursery. Instead of the four normal chairs around the table, there were only three. The fourth had been replaced by a high chair, which was a little higher than the other chairs and had straps attached to the back, as well as an attachable tray.

The look on Tony’s face when Steve set him in the high chair was priceless.

“This is one of your presents,” Steve said, unable to hide his amusement. “Babies shouldn’t be sitting in regular chairs. You could fall and hurt yourself.” He pulled the v-shaped strap down over Tony’s head and the other one up between his thighs and snapped them shut over his chest. Then he picked up the tray from the table and snapped it into place over Tony’s lap.

Tony tugged at the straps, but they were strong enough to hold him. Steve left him experimenting and went to the counter, confident that Tony wouldn’t be able to squirm free. The furniture had been one of the first things to arrive, and – after Steve had put it together – JARVIS had helped him out by modifying the clasp so that it was fingerprint enabled... with Steve’s fingerprint, to be exact. Give enough time Tony would figure it out, but Steve wasn’t planning to borrow trouble by leaving him alone for that long.

He whistled softly as he started making breakfast, deciding on oatmeal with fresh fruit with a bottle of warm milk for Tony, and had just added cinnamon, apples and oatmeal to the boiling water when Tony spoke.

“Daddy!”

Steve looked over his shoulder at a very frustrated and pouty baby as he picked up a sterilized bottle. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Want down!”

“No, Tony. I’m making breakfast.”

Tony’s scowl deepened and he started squirming around again, but the highchair had been built to withstand an adult and it did. The legs barely moved, and it was just high enough that Tony’s bare feet couldn’t get any purchase against the floor no matter how hard he tried. It was adorable to watch, particularly when Steve was content in the knowledge that if Tony truly didn’t like it, he could safeword out at any moment.

When the oatmeal had finished cooking, he took it off the stove and added bananas and a little bit of maple syrup. He carried the bowls and the bottle over to the table. Tony was slumped forward in the straps, scowling. His glower deepened when Steve picked up a plastic spoon that had a Black Widow design on the handle.

“Watch this,” Steve said, and dipped the spoon into the oatmeal. Tony’s eyes widened a little when the spoon instantly brightened from black to bright red from the heat. Steve grinned and scooped up some of the oatmeal, taking the opportunity to pop it into Tony’s mouth.

“Yucky,” Tony said around his mouthful.

“Not yucky. I know for a fact that you like oatmeal,” Steve replied, offering another mouthful. Just when he thought that Tony would refuse and he’d have a battle on his hands, Tony begrudgingly opened his mouth and allowed Steve to feed him the next spoonful.

The rest of the breakfast was (relatively) peaceful. Steve finished feeding Tony and then ate his own breakfast quickly while Tony drank his bottle. The baby absently kicked his feet against the chair while he looked around the kitchen, as though fascinated by the cabinets. Steve popped the last slice of banana in his mouth and reached down to gently run his finger over the sole of Tony’s bare foot.

Tony squeaked.

Steve grinned and did it a couple more times, laughing when Tony broke out into giggles. He stopped before Tony could get too frustrated over not being able to get away from the tickling, but made a mental note to do that again soon. Gone was the sulky, frustrated baby from half an hour ago. Now Tony was flushed with laughter, eyes bright, a grin on his face.

“Come on, baby boy,” he declared, picking up their dishes and depositing them into the sink. He wiped Tony’s chin, which was covered with milk, and removed the tray to be wiped down. He unstrapped Tony and scooped him up. Instantly he noticed that Tony needed a diaper change. That would be step one, and then he’d be able to show Tony a couple more presents.

Chapter Text

Tony’s heart pounded as Steve carried him back into the living room. He didn’t know what to expect. No one had ever gone to this much effort for his birthday; the nursery alone was something incredible, and his eyes burned tellingly if he thought about it for too long. Then there was the high chair, which Tony hated but definitely went a long way towards making him feel like a baby.

His eyes widened when he saw the contraption that had been set up in the corner of the room and along one wall. It almost looked a little bit like a gazebo, except there was no top; it was set up on four legs and had some kind of fabric covering the poles at the corners. Fine mesh stretched around the rest of it. But it was tall, tall enough that Tony could stand up in it and would have to stretch to reach the top, but wide enough that he could comfortably lay down. One of the mesh sides was hanging open, folded nearly in half.

He didn’t understand until Steve plunked him down in it, stepped back and zipped up the side.

It was a playpen, Tony realized in astonishment, staring up at his daddy. The mesh was fine enough that he could see through no problem. The bottom was made of a very soft, cushiony material, and Steve had placed a new green blanket, pacifier and a few toys for him to play with around the edge. Just above and to the left of his head was a bar that had a couple more toys dangling from it.

Steve grinned. “Stay there, sweetheart. Daddy has to get your gifts from where he hid them, and then we’ll have some fun, okay?” He turned and walked out of the room.

Tony watched him go, torn between shock and indignation. This was a step too far! He might be a baby, but he didn’t need to be confined in this thing! He curled his legs under him and tried to stand up, but it was really hard. Whatever made the bottom so comfortable made it difficult to stand, especially when his gait was widened more than he was used to because of the diaper. It was wobbly and his legs buckled several times.

Full of frustration, Tony sank down onto his knees and whimpered. The meeting point between the mesh and fabric at the corners was seamless. He couldn’t get his fingers into the mesh because the holes were too small, so there was no way to get to the zipper. And even if he could stand, he didn’t have enough leverage to make it to the top. When he pushed experimentally against the side, the playpen didn’t even move. He was trapped.

“JARVIS,” Tony said, voice wobbling. “Help?”

“My apologies, young sir,” JARVIS said. “I am not at liberty to interfere with your daddy’s actions unless you are in danger.”

That was not what Tony wanted to hear. He stared at the spot where Steve had disappeared until it disappeared in a blur of tears and he started to cry. Quietly, though, biting his lip to keep in the hitched sobs even though he really wanted to throw his head back and wail out his displeasure. He buried his head in his hands to better conceal the whimpers and rocked back and forth.

What if his daddy didn’t come back?

“Tony? Baby -”

Practically before Tony had registered the voice, the side of the playpen was being yanked down and then big hands scooped him up. He threw his arms around Steve’s neck and cried into his neck.

“Tony, shh, it’s okay. I’m right here,” Steve murmured. “I didn’t go anywhere. It’s okay.”

“Thought you weren’t comin’ back,” Tony sobbed.

“You thought – oh honey.” Steve hugged him tightly, carrying him over to the couch. He sat down, arranging Tony in his lap, and gently pried Tony away from his neck. He cupped Tony’s face. “Sweetheart, I would never leave this floor while you’re in your headspace. Never. I put you in the playpen because I couldn’t watch you while I was getting your gifts. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself. That’s all.”

“Wouldn’t,” Tony said, sniffing. Tears were still streaming down his face, but now that Daddy was here he was starting to forget why he’d been so scared.

Steve smiled a little. “You say that now, but you’re a curious kitten at heart and I’d rather not take that chance.” He pulled Tony into another hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Tony hugged him back. “Don’t like it,” he mumbled.

“We’ll work on it,” Steve whispered back, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. Louder, he said, “Thanks for telling me, JARVIS.”

“Anytime, Captain,” JARVIS said.

Tony just continued to pout, face buried in Daddy’s collarbone. He didn’t like most of his gifts so far. He was perfectly capable of looking after himself. He wanted to be with Daddy, not trapped in a playpen!

“Shh, I know, that was a dirty trick to pull. Presents should be fun, not practical,” Steve said, sounding both fond and amused. “I promise that you’ll like the rest of your gifts a whole lot more. Would you like to open a couple?”

The thought of presents was too tempting to ignore. Tony nodded. Steve stood up, easily hefting his weight up, and moved over to the armchair. He sat down again, twisting Tony around until Tony could see the small stack of brightly colored boxes. He stared in fascination, not even complaining when Steve wiped his face and then pressed a pacifier into his mouth. That was a lot of presents.

Steve picked up the first one and set it in his lap. “Go ahead, baby.”

Cautiously, Tony ripped the purple paper off. A stack of picture books fell into his lap. He picked up the first one, turning it over, and realized that it was a book by Robert Munsch. It was called Love You Forever. There were lots of others books too, some of them by Munsch and others by authors Tony had never heard of, all of them glossy and shiny with beautiful illustrations.

“Reading’s important for babies,” Steve said in his ear, picking up another package. This one was noticeably heavier. “I thought we could read those together, and these ones will be for me to read to you at bedtime.” Tony ripped it open to reveal a couple different collections of adult and teen books, including Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings. A couple of them he’d never heard of, but there was also –

He made an excited sound and pointed to one of the books. Charlotte’s Web was one of the books Jarvis had read to him when he was a child. He could still remember the funny voices that Jarvis had made for each of the characters, especially Charlotte and Wilbur.

“You like that one? I haven’t read it.”

“Daddy!” Tony said around his pacifier, shocked.

“I’ve had a lot to catch up on, sweetie,” Daddy said absently, flipping through the book. “We’ll start with this one tonight. Let’s move on, okay?”

Tony was okay with that. They set the books aside and Steve lifted the next present into Tony’s lap. He unwrapped it more eagerly now and squeaked when he realized that it was a lego set. Stars Wars, to be exact. The next one was a box of K’Nex. Steve chuckled when he saw Tony’s excitement.

“I didn’t wrap all the sets. There are more in your nursery. I thought you might like something to build with,” he said.

There were more toys, too. Building blocks made of a softer material. New bath toys, including a couple of dolls and a little fish that promised to spit differently colored bubbles. A pink cube that rattled when you shook it. A little oblong-shaped giraffe that played music when you pressed on its tummy. A little keyboard that made different noises when you pressed the keys. A stuffed elephant with a pacifier attached to its nose. Tony loved that one. He hugged the elephant tightly and beamed at Steve.

Steve smiled back. “I know it’s a lot, but you have a toy box that’s pretty empty. I figured it needed to be filled.”

It was a lot. So much that Tony was getting overwhelmed. He didn’t even know toys like this existed. He couldn’t believe that Steve had put so much effort into finding them, or that he’d (undoubtedly) paid a fortune for them. This whole birthday must’ve cost thousands of dollars, and knowing Steve he would’ve paid for it all himself instead of using the credit card Tony had given to all of the Avengers for their expenses.

Why? He didn’t understand why Steve would go through so much trouble. Even Tony’s real parents hadn’t done this; Howard had taken most of his toys away around age three, insisting that Tony was too old to be playing with baby things and should be spending his time on real work. Steve was going in the opposite direction and it was so confusing. He shivered with distress.

“Hey. Baby, what’s wrong?” Steve turned him around, looking worried. “Do you not like something?”

“Too much,” Tony whispered, hunching over. The pacifier slipped from his mouth in his misery and words spilled out after, words he never would have said if he wasn’t little and had been thinking clearly. “Why would you – I thought – if you’re gonna leave, why?”

“What?” Steve’s look of surprise, in any other situation, would’ve been priceless. “Tony, no. I’m not – is that what you’ve been thinking all this time? That I would get fed up with the situation, or… or bored or whatever, and just leave?”

Miserably, Tony nodded. “Everyone leaves.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that happened to you. But I – I’m not going anywhere. First of all, I don’t have anywhere to go. You gave me a home. Friends. A family.” Steve was looking straight into Tony’s eyes, and he looked desperately sad. “You’re the most important person in my life. You dragged me out of the past and made me a part of the future. And now there’s this.” He waved his hand between them.

“You seem to think that I’m doing you some kind of favor. I’m not. I enjoy this. I’ve told you that before and I meant it. I also told you that, if you’re going to do this, you should have as much of the experience as you can. That’s why I bought this stuff and did the nursery for you. But if this is what it takes to convince you that I’m not walking out the door, then I’m even more glad I made the decision.”

Tony stared at him, silently measuring the sincerity in Steve’s face, until tears welled up in his eyes. Steve – Daddy pulled him close, rubbing his back and murmuring reassurance, though he never once told Tony to stop crying. So he cried until he couldn’t anymore, until the low thrum of a headache and exhaustion had him lying limply in Daddy’s arms. Daddy gave him a pacifier, then scooped him up and carried him back into the nursery.

“Maybe tomorrow you can help me with some of the painting,” he said, nuzzling Tony’s hair. “I bet you didn’t notice before, but look at this.” He walked around the furniture stacked in the middle of the room. The top half of all the walls were designed with the jungle theme, but the lower half of this particular wall was smooth and white. A small tray filled with markers had been attached about midway up, in perfect reach of anyone sitting on the floor.

“That’s for you,” Daddy said, pointing to the markers. “You can draw on the wall while I paint and I won’t even get mad. Won’t that be fun?”

Tony nodded, cuddling a little closer. He couldn’t help a yawn and Daddy chuckled. “It’s a little early for your morning nap, but you have had a lot of excitement. How about a bath and then, when you wake up, we can have lunch together.”

Chapter Text

Steve let the baby sleep for about two hours; Tony was adorably grumpy when he was awoken, pouting and rubbing at his eyes with his hands. He was fussy at lunch time, squirming and pulling at the straps of the high chair and turning his head away when Steve tried to feed him bits of sandwiches, but whining when Steve gave up and dumped the food in the garbage. Steve sighed and put a hand on Tony’s head, rubbing his hair.

“You’re a handful sometimes, sweetheart,” he said to no one in particular, realizing that Tony was in need of a haircut. It was unusual for Tony to let his hair get this long. He was usually meticulous about his appearance – or at least, he was when he appeared outside the tower. Which, now that Steve thought about it, Tony hadn’t done very often in the past couple of months. Except for the couple of times he and Steve had been out, Tony hadn’t left except to go to Stark Industries, that press conference, or for battles.

Maybe it was time for Steve to plan them a day out. He liked the thought of that. Age playing was relaxing for both of them, but they also had to stay cooped up in the tower. He wondered if JARVIS could tell him whether Tony had any real estate close enough for them to drive to for the weekend. They had an easy excuse – not even Clint would want to tag along if he thought that Tony and Steve were just going to spend time being romantic – so the hardest part would be getting Tony to agree.

Tony’s head bobbed, and Steve realized he was falling asleep again. Wanting to keep Tony awake for another couple of hours before he went down for another nap, Steve unhooked the tray on the highchair and unlatched the straps. He scooped Tony up, ignoring the frustrated whine that earned him, and carried Tony into the nursery. He set the baby on the floor and crouched down beside him.

“Look. Remember how I said you could draw on the walls?” he asked, tapping the whiteboards. It was one of his better ideas, if he did say so himself. Based on Tony’s horrified reaction when the paint had spilled, he’d never had the chance to do most of the things that other little kids did. Steve didn’t really want him drawing on the actual walls, so this seemed like a happy compromise.

Tony just blinked at him, sucking on his pacifier, quieter than he’d ever been as a baby. Steve wasn’t sure if it was because he was tired or because he was feeling littler than usual. It was a bit unnerving considering how much Tony usually chattered, but Steve was willing to wait and see what happened.

“Here, I’ll show you, okay?” He picked up a marker – safe and non-toxic, of course – and popped the top off. He made a big sweeping motion across the board, leaving a streak of pink behind. Tony’s eyes went even wider and Steve chuckled.

“Draw whatever you want, baby, okay?” He uncapped several markers and left them at Tony’s feet within easy reach, then pressed a kiss to the top of Tony’s head as he stood up. He wanted to stand and watch to see what would happen, but had the feeling that Tony would be a little shy if he knew he was being watched. So he backed off and went to open up a can of paint.

His original thought had been that he would wait until tomorrow to paint, but Tony had been very overwhelmed this morning. And Steve had to admit that maybe he’d gotten a little bit carried away when it came to buying presents and things like that. He couldn’t help it! Tony deserved the chance to be spoiled, and Steve loved being the one to spoil him. The smiles that had lit up Tony’s face while they were unwrapping presents were worth every penny.

At least until Tony had broken down, anyway. Steve frowned to himself, glancing over his shoulder at Tony, who was getting purple marker all over his hands. After all this time, Tony had still been thinking that he was going to leave. It hurt, but more than that it was frustrating. If this didn’t convince Tony that he planned on sticking around, than Steve had no idea what would.

Maybe Tony just needed time to absorb it all, though. And that’s exactly why Steve had decided to paint today instead. At least playing with the markers and drawing on the whiteboard would give Tony the chance to do something that wasn’t too overwhelming. The rest of the presents would still be there when Tony was ready to play with them, and he was planning to read to Tony before bedtime tonight.

He grabbed a brush and started, keeping an eye on Tony out of the corner of his eye. It took several minutes before Tony even acknowledged the wall; he seemed perfectly content with rolling the markers between his fingers and giggling at the colors that were being smeared all over his hands. Eventually, though, he caught sight of the wall and planted the blue marker he was holding against the board. When he dragged his hand down, it left a squiggly bright blue line behind. Tony’s smile grew.

In all honesty, Steve probably spent more time watching Tony draw than he did making progress on painting the room. But that was okay. Tony looked way too cute. Things were peaceful for about two and a half hours, until Tony finished drawing a smiley face and – apparently – grew bored. He dropped the marker on the floor and sat back, tugging at his diaper.

“What’s the matter, honey?” Steve asked, setting his brush down carefully. He dropped the lid back on the paint and walked over to Tony. A quick check revealed that Tony’s diaper was wet. Steve picked him up, realizing that the front of Tony’s onesie was a mess from the marker, just like Tony’s hands and face.

“Wow, I have a serious artist here. Just look at all that hard work,” Steve said, turning to look at the board. He thought he could make a few smiley face, stars and clouds, but mostly it was a scribbly mess of blobs and circles. “You did a fantastic job. That’s exactly what this room needed. Good boy!”

Tony smiled shyly and slurred something unintelligible behind his pacifier. Steve pretended he’d understood and smiled again. “Yup, you're right. If I’m not careful, you’re gonna be better than me,” he teased. “Now, how about we get you all washed up and changed and then we have a bottle? You didn’t have much for lunch, so I bet that little tummy of yours is all grumbly.”

He picked up the rocking chair and carried it out with them, leaving that in the living room while he took Tony into the bedroom. He stripped the onesie and the wet diaper off of Tony, leaving the baby laying on the bed while he wet a warm towel. Not all of the marker came off, but he was planning on giving Tony a bath tonight so it didn’t matter that much. At least the bright colors had faded a lot.

Tony bore the wiping of his hands in silence, but he started squirming a little as Steve finished. Steve tickled his tummy, earning a grumble, and quickly got him into a fresh diaper and a purple t-shirt. Then he picked Tony up and carried him back into the living room.

“I’m going to put you back in your playpen for a couple minutes while I get your bottle ready. You’ll be able to see me the whole time, okay?” He set Tony down carefully, half-expecting the baby to go into howls as soon as his bottom met the floor of the playpen. Instead, Tony just looked up at him with big, wet eyes that just about shattered Steve’s heart.

“It’s just for a minute,” he promised again, zipping up the playpen and backing away slowly. The good thing was, Steve wasn’t lying: the playpen had been deliberately positioned so that Tony could see both the living room and the kitchen. That meant he could keep easy tabs on Steve as Steve moved around the kitchen, preparing a bottle of the chocolate meal replacement drink and milk.

He found himself frequently glancing over his shoulder to check on Tony. The baby was watching him, but other than that he seemed okay. He’d spit out his pacifier and instead had shoved the leg of a stuffed toy lion into his mouth. He was chewing on it, even though Steve didn’t think the artificial fur would taste very good. Still, it was far from the first time he’d seen Tony put something into his mouth that he shouldn’t have, and babies were insatiably curious.

He tossed a cloth over his shoulder and walked back to Tony, shaking the bottle, and unzipped the playpen. “That’s not good for you, angel,” he said gently, tugging the lion from Tony’s mouth. The leg was soaked with spit and Steve wrinkled his nose, knowing it would need to be set aside to be washed.

“No, mine!” Tony whined, trying to cling to it.

“I have a better toy for you,” Steve said, grabbing the elephant with the pacifier attached to its nose. He offered that to Tony. After a moment of clear indecision, Tony reluctantly released the soiled toy and grabbed the elephant. Steve put the lion out of reach and scooped Tony up.

“Got a bottle. You hungry?” he asked, showing it to Tony. He shuffled backwards until he was close enough to snag the rocking chair and nudged it over in front of the window. He sat down and took a moment to rearrange the two of them until they were comfortable, turning Tony sideways. It was actually probably closer to a rocking couch, as it had to be larger than a normal chair to accommodate the both of them, but it was real wood and the cushions were soft and comfortable under Steve’s back.

He lifted Tony up, supporting him with an arm around his back, and pressed the nipple to Tony’s mouth. Tony accepted it and began to suckle, letting out an approving hum at the taste. Steve smiled down at him and gently pushed against the floor. The chair rocked back, then slowly rocked forward when he released the pressure. Tony tensed a little in surprise, then relaxed again.

“There’s my sweet little boy,” Steve whispered, tilting the bottle a little more. He was pleased to see that Tony was eating with a good appetite. He pulled the towel off his shoulder and swiped at Tony’s chin to remove the trickle of milk, then tucked it under Tony’s chin to avoid a mess. He was pretty sure there had been some bibs in one of the boxes that had been delivered; he’d had to dig some out.

When the bottle was empty, Steve wiped the baby’s mouth, then lifted him up and patted his back until Tony burped. Then he resettled Tony in his arms and kept rocking him back and forth, letting the lazy motion of the chair slowly rock Tony to sleep. It was gratifying to see the way that Tony’s eyelashes fluttered, the blinks becoming longer and longer until finally, his breathing deepened and he went completely limp.

Steve rocked him for a while until he was certain that Tony was well and truly asleep, then slid his other arm under Tony’s knees and stood up very carefully. He carried Tony into the bedroom, half-wishing that the nursery was finished already, but knowing that it would be soon enough. For now, he put Tony down in the bed. Tony was still clutching the elephant to his chest, so Steve pushed the pacifier attached to the trunk into his mouth. Then he pulled a blanket up over Tony’s body.

Through it all, Tony never so much as moved. Steve was able to shut the lights off and creep out of the room without the baby being the wiser. He shut the door halfway and glanced at his watch, which Tony and Clint had both mocked him for wearing. He figured he had enough time to make some headway on painting or sketching before Tony woke up again. The sooner the nursery was finished, the sooner Tony would have his crib.

Chapter Text

Tony was aware that he was dreaming, but it was one of those dreams where you couldn’t really control anything: he knew how it would end, because he’d been down this road before, but he was helpless to stop his body from toddling down the hallway. He could barely see where he was going, but memory alone took him to the very end of the hall and the huge door. He reached up, stretching to grab the doorknob, and felt it give beneath his chubby fingers.

His father was sitting at his desk, head bowed. There was a sharp smell in the air – alcohol. The bottle of whiskey by Howard’s elbow was unmistakable, as was the empty glass by his trembling hand. Yet Tony stepped forward, mouth stretching into a smile, and called out to him. He had sketched out a blueprint with Jarvis’s help, and he wanted to show his father.

He wanted to make his father proud.

But Howard wasn’t proud. His mouth twisted down into a scowl and his eyes looked hazy and distant; he stood up and came around the desk quickly, grabbing Tony’s upper arm. His grip was too tight and Tony whimpered, but it was lost under the sound of Howard yelling for Maria. She wouldn’t come. Tony didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. She never came anymore, not when Howard was angry.

“Dad, please,” Tony cried, dropping his picture, tears welling up in his eyes. He cowed when Howard turned on him instead, bringing his hands up to shield his face –

“Tony. Tony! Baby, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

Tony jerked, eyes flying open, and flinched back when he realized that there was a face very close to his. Steve – Daddy – no, Steve jerked back, putting a little more space between them. His eyes were wide with alarm, but he didn’t say anything for the moment and Tony was grateful. His eyes swept the room, searching for a man that couldn’t possibly be there because Howard was dead, and Tony knew that, of course he did.

The light from the windows clearly illuminated even the corners, proving that the room was empty. Tony exhaled and put a hand to the arc reactor automatically, feeling the reassuring metal under his fingers. His heart was racing, but that wasn’t a surprise. He shifted on the mattress, turning to face Steve and trying to think of an explanation, and froze when his legs brushed against something wet.

Horrified, he pulled at the covers until he could see the round, wet spot on the bed. At the same time, he realized that the diaper he was wearing was squishy from how soaked it was. Even worse, it looked like the boxers that Steve was wearing were wet around the bottom. The mortifying truth sank in slowly. He’d wet himself during the nightmare, and the diaper had leaked. He’d wet the bed with Steve in it.

He opened his mouth – not sure what he could possibly say, if anything, that could ever excuse his actions – but all that came out was a sob. Tony started to cry, torn between wanting to run away and wanting comfort, so humiliated that it was all he could do to not fling himself out the window and not care whether or not the armor came to catch him.

Steve - Daddy’s face crumbled with sympathy. “Oh, baby, no. It’s okay. Come here.” He scooted up the bed, pulling Tony into his arms. Tony tried to resist when the diaper squished unpleasantly between them, wringing more pee out onto Daddy, but Daddy held firm. Too tired to fight, Tony leaned against him and wailed.

“Sssh, I know. That was scary. But you’re okay. I’m right here,” Daddy whispered, pressing kisses against the crown of Tony’s head. He shifted a little, re-settling Tony’s weight into something more comfortable for both of them, and Tony cried louder because it was cold and icky and all over both of them. Daddy, finally, seemed to realize what he was really crying about.

“Tony, hey. It’s fine. I’m not upset,” Daddy said gently. “This is what babies do. They have accidents and their daddies take care of them. You’re a baby and I’m your daddy, and this is how it’s supposed to be.” He slipped a hand between them, rubbing Tony’s belly. “It’s my fault, not yours. I should’ve bought something more absorbent for nighttime.”

Tony shook his head and tried to quell his sobs long enough to stutter out, “S-sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, sweetie. Come on. Daddy will make it all better.” Daddy slid to the edge of the bed and stood, bringing Tony with him. Tony wrapped his arms around Daddy’s neck, still crying, and shut his eyes against the sight of the tangled, wet sheets.

Daddy carried him into the bathroom. “JARVIS, could you start the water, please?” he asked, kneeling down on the floor. He set Tony on the tile and efficiently stripped off both the onesie and the diaper Tony was wearing, leaving him naked and damp. Then he poured some bubble bath into the water and removed his own clothing, dropping both soiled boxers and muscle shirt on top of the onesie.

Tony shivered and looked up at him, tears still rolling down his face. Daddy tried to smile and knelt down, picking him up. He cuddled Tony close to his chest and stepped into the bathtub, sitting down with Tony in his lap. The water was hot, just the way Tony liked it, but it didn’t make him feel any better. He buried his face in Daddy’s shoulder, still shaking.

“It’s okay,” Daddy murmured, hugging Tony tightly. “Do you want to talk about your bad dream?”

“Nuh uh,” Tony whispered, slipping his thumb into his mouth. He didn’t want to think about his father when his daddy was here.

“Are you sure? No one can hurt you anymore, baby boy. I won’t let them.”

Daddy was strong. Sometimes it was easy to forget how strong. Tony squirmed closer, wrapping his legs around Daddy’s back so that there was no space between them. “He got angry,” he whispered.

“Who did?”

Tony sucked his thumb and didn’t answer.

Daddy sighed. “I’m sorry, Tony,” he said, sounding very sad. “The man I knew was so different from the one you grew up with. And there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could’ve been there for you to make things different. You shouldn’t have to deal with these nightmares.”

“Sorry,” Tony mumbled. He was a bad boy. He’d woken Daddy up and peed on him and -

“No, sweetheart. I told you, don’t apologize.” Daddy pried him away and cupped Tony’s face in his big hands. “It’s not your fault. Something bad happened to you and now you have nightmares. That’s normal. I have nightmares too. And I will never be angry at you for having a nightmare or for having a reaction to a nightmare. Don’t ever think that I don’t want to be there when there’s something wrong, okay? It doesn’t matter where we are or what’s going on. I’ll always be there to help you.”

Tony’s eyes filled up with fresh tears. He hiccuped on the sob that forced its way out of his chest. Daddy wiped his tears away and hugged him again, rubbing his back comfortingly. They sat there like that for several minutes until Tony stopped crying. Then Daddy shifted again, reaching for the washcloth.

“I think you’ll feel better once we’re clean,” he murmured, squeezing a little soap onto the cloth.

An ashamed blush swept up Tony’s face; he hated that a bath was even necessary. But he sat limply as Daddy rubbed the cloth over his lower legs and toes, then up to his knees and thighs. Daddy was very careful as he washed between Tony’s thighs, making sure that every trace of pee was gone. That was a little uncomfortable, verging on painful, and Tony started to squirm, whimpering.

“What’s the matter?” Daddy asked. He swept some of the bubbles aside and leaned forward to peer through the water. “Oh, my poor baby. You’re starting to get another rash. Just let me get you clean and then I’ll put on some cream that’ll make you feel all better.”

He moved on, wiping off Tony’s belly. He circled the arc reactor, making sure not to touch it, and scrubbed at Tony’s shoulders and neck. Tony leaned into the couch, half-closing his eyes, because the warm water felt good. His heart wasn’t pounding so fast now either, like the bath was washing away the worst of the bad dream and the shame. He sucked on his thumb again.

When Daddy was finished cleaning Tony off, he set Tony down on the little bench and then quickly washed himself. Tony looked away, trying not to think about why Daddy needed a wash, and waited until Daddy was clean. Then Daddy pulled the plug. The water and remaining bubbles rushed down the drain, and Tony started to shiver because the temperature in the room was cold.

“C’mere, sweetie,” Daddy said, unfolding a big towel. He wrapped it around Tony’s shoulders and scooped him up. “We’re gonna get you all dried off, okay?”

“Cold,” Tony said, shivering harder.

“I know.” Daddy set him down on the toilet and grabbed a towel for himself, wrapping it securely around his waist. Then he picked up Tony and carried him into the bedroom.

Tony was embarrassed all over again when he saw the state of the bed: the wet spot was drying, but it was still very obvious. His eyes filled up with tears and he sniffed. Daddy shushed him, grabbing the diaper bag and some clothing. He took Tony out of the room.

All of the floors that Tony had built had at least one guest room, even though there were guest floors as well; you never knew when someone might want a guest over that they didn’t want anyone else to know about (though when living with Clint and Natasha, it wasn’t easy to keep secrets regardless). Daddy turned into the guest room, laid out a towel and then placed Tony on top of it. He rummaged around in the diaper bag and produced a blue pacifier, which he pressed into Tony’s mouth.

“There you go. Now bear with me, sweetheart, almost done. Here we go.” Daddy picked up the towel around Tony’s shoulders and made quick work of drying Tony off. Then he slipped a fresh diaper under Tony’s hips. He removed the tube of diaper cream from the bag and very gently rubbed a generous amount between Tony’s thighs and butt cheeks before strapping the diaper into place.

It felt good to have a clean, dry diaper on, and even better once Daddy had slipped him into a cozy pink onesie. Daddy gave him his teddy bear and monkey to hold while Daddy dried off and pulled on boxers and another t-shirt. He smiled down at Tony as he slung the towels over the top of the doors to dry, spreading them out.

“See? No big deal,” he said softly, sitting down on the bed beside Tony and running a hand through Tony’s hair. “It's still early. What do you say we go back to sleep for a little while longer?"

Tony nodded, yawning around his pacifier. Daddy smiled again and helped him to scoot up the bed and underneath the blankets. He got up and turned the lights out - which was silly, because JARVIS could have done that - and then slid under the covers beside Tony. He opened his arms, letting Tony curl into him so that Tony's ear was pressed against his Daddy's chest and he could hear the sound of Daddy's heartbeat.

"Good boy," Daddy whispered, kissing the top of his head. "Go to sleep, Tony. I'm right here, and I won't let anything happen to you."

"Story?" Tony asked. Mumbled, really, but Daddy heard him anyway.

"You want a story? I didn't bring your book in. Hmm, let's see." Daddy thought for a moment, draping his arm over Tony's hip. "How about a story about a brave little dragon and the knight who is his best friend?"

Tony nodded again, eyes drifting shut to the sound of Daddy's voice.

Chapter Text

"I think you two need to go on a date."

One bite. One bite of the delicious waffles that Bruce had taken the time to make. That was all Steve got before Pepper swept into the room and dropped that bombshell on their heads. To his right, Tony choked on the cup of coffee he'd been nuzzling (or possibly whispering declarations of love to, sometimes it was really better not to know) and sputtered for a couple of seconds. Deciding that he didn't want to wait for Tony to collect himself long enough to respond, Steve speared another piece of waffle with his fork and smiled politely.

"Tony and I have gone on plenty of dates," he said, because that was true in a way. It just depended on who you asked. Steve would've said that all those times he and Tony had gone out together weren't really dates, even though a part of him wished that they had been. Pepper and the rest of the team, on the other hand, probably would consider those outings to be dates now.

And for that matter, so would the general public. He had finally stumbled across a small but growing section of the internet that actually supported him and Tony, and some of the pictures people were posting were from months ago. It seemed that now that he and Tony were officially dating, people were trying to figure out how long they'd been dating and using those pictures as evidence in their theories. People were weird.

"I know you have," Pepper said with a nod, slipping into a chair. She looked tired, like she'd been up all night, and the smile of gratitude that she shot Bruce after Bruce handed her a cup of coffee made the tips of Bruce's ears go pink. Steve graciously waited until she'd inhaled the steam, let out a sigh, and taken her first sip before he spoke again.

"Then why do we need to go on another?" he asked, reasonably enough he thought. He had the feeling this wasn't just about him and Tony spending quality time together; there had to be an ulterior motive. Unfortunately, he was right.

"Because Tony's reputation, and by extension the reputation of Stark Industries, has taken a real blow over the past week," Pepper replied. "Our public relations team has been doing everything they can to mitigate the backlash, but people are not reacting well to the idea of you two dating. And the fact that you're hiding away in the tower is not improving things. If they could see you out and about, being an actual couple, it has the potential to go a long way towards softening the general opinion of... this." She waved a hand at them.

Steve frowned and ate another piece of waffle, not needing to look at Tony to know that Tony was frowning as well. Truth be told, Steve didn't exactly love the idea. He'd always had difficulty with the public, and the modern century hadn't exactly improved his attitude. He'd grown even less approving after seeing exactly how people had reacted to the idea of him and Tony dating. If he saw one more news article saying that Tony Stark was corrupting Captain America - and that was always how it was written, as though Steve Rogers and Iron Man weren't even part of the equation - then he was going to snap and take a page out of the Hulk's book.

So the idea of going out on a date that was specifically engineered to be done in the public eye was not appealing. But on the other hand, he was truly sick of how they were treating Tony and anything that might get people to ease up a little, or at least get used to the idea, was worth a shot.

"Don't tell me you're actually considering it," Tony said, sounding a little horrified by the idea.

"It wouldn't be that bad. You could go out for dinner and then to one of the parties that's already on your schedule and which you need to put in an appearance at whether you like it or not," Pepper threw in, obviously sensing that Steve was weakening to her cause. "Kill two birds with one stone and all that."

"Steve, no, you don't have to -"

"I don't have to do anything," Steve said. "But Tony, you know I hate the way that they're dragging your name through the mud. Maybe Pepper's right. If people got the chance to really see us together, then they would stop giving you such a hard time." And maybe then people would stop acting like Steve was some paragon of virtue. He'd been surrounded by three dozen beautiful and charming young ladies for months, and then by the Howling Commandoes for over a year. How on earth anyone thought he was still a virgin, Steve would never know.

"Or it could just end up with people trashing you," Tony pointed out. "I don't think this is a good idea. This will blow over. It always does."

"Maybe I don't want to just let it blow over. There is nothing wrong with the two of us dating. I can't stand the way that people are treating you, and I hate that you act like it's okay. I like you and I want the whole world to know that I like you and I want them all to stop judging my boyfriend!" Steve snapped. He only realized what he'd said when he saw the way that Tony's eyes went wide; immediately, his own face went hot and he knew he had to be blushing.

"This is sickeningly sweet," Clint announced from where he was curled up on top of the refrigerator.

Tony jumped. "Jesus, birdbrain, what have I told you about hiding up there?" he demanded, snatching up his coffee. He was blushing too now, Steve saw: the back of his neck had gone pink.

"Tony," Steve said, making an effort to control his voice. "Please. I'm not crazy about having so many eyes on us, but I think it's worth trying."

"Fine," Tony muttered. "Fine, I think this is a terrible idea and that we're going to regret it, but we'll do it. Just stop giving me the puppy eyes."

Steve blinked, not having been aware he was doing any such thing, and turned back to Pepper. She'd been watching their exchange silently, eyebrows raised and a smile quirking one corner of her mouth. He said, "If you could arrange that, that would be great. Preferably the sooner the better."

"I can have it set up for tomorrow," Pepper said. When Tony wasn't looking, she mouthed the words 'thank you' at him. The relief in her eyes told Steve that this really wasn't just a publicity stunt, and he wondered just how much Stark Industries' stock had plummeted over the last week. No wonder Tony had once confessed that sometimes he contemplated backing away from the company entirely.

He nodded back to her and she stood up, casting one more glance at the top of Tony’s head as she glided out of the room. Clint and Bruce, who had been standing silently by the stove during the conversation, followed suit – well, it was more like on his way out of the room, Bruce grabbed Clint’s ankle and yanked him down off the fridge, then hauled out a sulking Clint behind him. They even closed the door.

In the sudden silence, Steve cleared his throat. “Does the idea of going out on a date with me really bother you that much?” he asked, trying to hide his displeasure at the idea. He wanted to date Tony for real, not just for pretend, but that would never happen at this rate.

“No!” Tony exclaimed, so forcefully that Steve had to believe him. “It’s just – Steve, I had a lot of relationships when I was a kid. If you can even call them that, because most of them didn’t last any longer than a month. 90% of them ended because the people couldn’t handle all the pressure of the public eye. It’s really hard on the head when you’re not used to it. I just don’t want –”

“But I am used to it,” Steve said as gently as possible. “Sweetheart, I’m Captain America.” He didn’t even realize the endearment had slipped out until he saw Tony’s face flush, but he kept going, not wanting the point he was trying to make to be lost. “I’m already in the public eye because of that. The only way Steve Rogers wouldn’t be is if no one knew who I was, but obviously that’s never going to happen. Who I date will always face the exact same scrutiny that you’re going through right now. I should be asking if you’re sure you want to keep dating me, because at this rate I don’t think anyone is ever going to be good enough for me as far as the public is concerned. So it might as well be someone I actually want to date.”

Tony stared at him, lips parted a little. “And do you… want to?” he asked, swallowing hard. “Date me? For real?”

Oh. Steve ran over his words in his head and realized that he’d been a little more honest than he’d intended. “Maybe?” he said, even though every nerve in his brain was shouting yes. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about. Seems silly to go through with pretend dating when we could be really dating.”

“On top of…” Tony trailed off.

“Yeah, on top of that. I wouldn’t give that up for anything,” Steve told him. “But only if you want to. I understand if you don’t. And it wouldn’t change our situation. I’ll always be… that… for you as long as you want me to.” He gave into temptation and reached out, setting his hand on top of Tony’s. It was annoying to have to dance around the subject, but it was already dangerous talking about how they were faking their relationship in the kitchen. You never knew who was listening in, even in the tower – though he suspected JARVIS had implemented privacy mode without being asked. Besides, now that the subject was here, Steve wasn’t going to risk suggesting a change of scenery.

“I don’t know. I thought about it. But I don’t know,” Tony muttered. “It sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“Or it could be a recipe for success,” Steve pointed out.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re annoyingly optimistic sometimes?”

Steve couldn’t help laughing. “No, I have to admit that no one has ever said that to me. You’re definitely the first.” It was a relief, in a way, to have this out in the open. Now he didn’t have to worry about trying to hide what he was feeling from Tony. He might still have to rein it in if Tony decided he wasn’t interested, but that was still better than constantly worrying he was crossing some invisible line.

“Well, you are,” Tony said. He was trying not to smile, but it wasn’t working very well. He hadn’t moved his hand out from under Steve’s either. “I just don’t – it’ll crash and burn. My relationships always do. I’m terrible about them; ask Pepper. And when I’m… you know… I can’t – you're so – ” He stopped and bit his lip.

It was unusual for Tony to have so much trouble with words, but Steve thought he understood what Tony was trying to get at anyway. The thought of how important Steve’d become as a daddy figure in such a short amount of time was both amazing and painful. Just how lonely had Tony been before Steve found out? He rubbed Tony's arm comfortingly, wishing that he could give Tony a hug, but not sure if Tony would be receptive right now.

“Hey. I said I wouldn’t give that up and I meant it. I like to think I know you pretty well by now, and there’s nothing about you that would ever make me dislike you that much. I mean, sure you could stand to shower a little more because you stink when you’re in the workshop too long, and you’re a blanket hog, and –” He broke off, laughing again, when Tony scowled and punched him in the shoulder.

“I do not hog the blankets,” Tony said, face red. Steve knew exactly what he was thinking about. He smiled.

“Yeah, you do, but it’s fine. It just means you’re nice and warm when I cuddle up to you,” he said.

“You are clingy when we sleep,” Tony mumbled, shaking his head. He turned his hand over, shyly twining their fingers together. “Maybe. We can see how this date goes. I’ve messed up a lot of shit. I don’t want to mess this up, too.”

“You won’t,” Steve said. “What would you think about the two of us going away for a couple days? Do you have a cabin in the mountain anywhere?”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “I have several. Why the sudden interest?”

“I just thought it would be nice for some alone time.” He gave Tony a significant look. “Away from prying eyes, where we don’t have to be behind closed doors all the time.”

“Oh. Oh,” Tony said, with dawning understanding, and lit up a little. “Really?”

“I thought, since we’re going on this date for Pepper, she could clear your schedule again.”

“She’s been doing that a lot lately. Pretty soon she’s gonna have to tie me down to get anything from me,” Tony joked, but he was grinning. “I’ll ask her. Maybe in a couple of weeks. I have a lot of time to get in in the workshop. I’ve got so many projects racing through my head right now. That alone will boost the stock again. I’m planning this really awesome update that will blow apple’s new iPhone out of the water.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Steve said. He couldn’t resist, leaning over to give Tony a quick kiss, leaving plenty of time for Tony to duck away if he wanted. Tony didn’t, though, tipping his head up a fraction to better receive the kiss. Steve beamed at the response. He could wait a long time, he thought, for something like this.

Chapter Text

Dating Steve was not going to be nearly as difficult as it should have been. Not that dates were something that Tony had a lot of experience with period, particularly dates outside of the tower: it was hard to consider any event that he and Pepper had attended together a date when Pepper usually got called away because of some fiasco or another, and Tony was usually stuck schmoozing with people he didn't like.

So during the course of their short-lived relationship, he and Pepper had always been so busy that ‘date night’ always seemed to end up postponed indefinitely. And even when they did get the chance to have a date night at home, they were both so tired or so preoccupied with other things that needed to be done (because if there was one thing that Tony and Pepper had in common, it was that they were both workaholics) that nothing ever happened.

But it didn't take Tony long to realize that Steve was going to take the whole date very seriously. They started out at a restaurant, where they ate a semi-private meal together before moving on to the event. Steve was unfazed by all the lights and cameras that went off in their faces when they got out of the car, and, before the speeches and the dancing began, stuck to Tony’s side like glue and refused to be swayed away. It wasn’t suffocating like Tony had thought it might be, but rather reassuring to have Steve there.

It really highlighted the fact that he and Pepper never would’ve worked, though. Pepper was always torn between her duties as a P.A. and then later as CEO, and her duties as Tony’s partner; she was never allowed to fully be one or the other. Steve had an easier time because all he had to focus on during the event was Tony. He wasn’t Captain America right now; he was just Steve Rogers who had a boyfriend that he very much liked.

Boyfriend. Tony’s stomach flipped over and he sipped from his glass of wine, watching Steve spin Pepper around the dance floor. God, his father must be rolling over in his grave right now. Sometimes he couldn't tell if that was a comforting thought or not. Howard would've been angry enough at finding out that Tony was dating a man, but dating Captain America? That would've been a whole other story.

A very familiar looking redhead cut in on Steve and Pepper, and Pepper walked away laughing. She cut straight through the crowd with ease, finding her way to Tony's side. She snatched the glass of wine out of his hand and tossed the remainder of the alcohol back. Tony, smiling in spite of himself, flagged down a passing waiter and selected two more glasses from his tray. Pepper took the second glass with a nod of thanks, sipping at this one more sedately.

"For someone who claims he can't, Steve can really dance," she said breathlessly.

"I taught him all he knows," Tony said, which wasn't a lie. For about a month solid, he'd had the bruises on the tops of his feet to prove it. Steve was graceful as fuck on the battlefield, but let him get into his head even a little bit and he suddenly developed two left feet.

"You taught him well," Pepper said, smiling. She was wearing a set of beautiful sapphire earrings that brought out the blue in her eyes. Tony gestured to them.

"Those are nice."

"My boss bought them for me. He has good taste," she said without skipping a beat, setting her glass down. "Dance with me, Mr. Stark?"

The lingering sense of unease was still there, but Tony accepted her hand anyway. Dancing with Pepper was comfortable and familiar; his hand on her lower, bare back and her hands on his shoulders, her vanilla-scented perfume surrounding them both. Her five-inch heels meant that he had to look up into her face, but he was used to that as well. He took a step forward and she took a step back, sweeping them into the rest of the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, Tony caught sight of Steve and Natasha, still dancing.

"I didn't think you invited the rest of the team," he said.

"I didn't, but I doubt Natasha has ever waited for an invitation in her life," Pepper said wryly. "It's fine. I anticipated that either she or Clint or Phil would be making an appearance. At least Natasha knows how to behave."

"Hey, that time with the monkeys and the champagne in the fountain was totally her fault."

Pepper rolled her eyes and Tony fought back a grin. This wasn't as hard as he'd anticipated. It still made him nauseous to think about Pepper knowing about the age play, but he couldn't change it and he was determined never to bring it up to her. If she'd kept quiet about it for this long, then maybe Steve was right. There was no reason to think that this had to change their relationship in any way. Tony would just keep acting normally and pretend that Steve hadn't told him the truth, and Pepper could keep pretending that she didn't know - just like Tony now pretended he didn't know about her preference for expensive lingerie now that he was technically just her boss.

"They've been a good influence on you. The whole team has."

"But you mean Steve in particular," Tony said.

"I meant what I said," Pepper said. "I think you're all good for each other. You laugh more. You don't spend as much time stuck in the workshop."

"I thought you wanted me to spend more time in the workshop."

"I've never wanted or expected you to spend twenty-four hours a day down there, Tony. You can't be a fantastic inventor or engineer if you forget that there's more to life than your robots and toys." She paused for a moment, then added, "I had your schedule cleared for this weekend. You've got time off starting from tomorrow at 5pm until Tuesday morning at 9am."

"A long weekend?" Tony raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. He'd already had what he considered to be a lot of time off in the past couple of months. He couldn't remember the last time this had happened: when he was in his twenties there were plenty of times when he used to just not show up to work after nights spent partying, which Pepper would tactfully file under vacation days. But since Afghanistan, he actually couldn't remember his last vacation. Which was maybe why Pepper was giving him such an exasperated look.

"The only person who has more vacation saved up than you is me," she said dryly. "Human Resources will be thrilled to hear that you've finally taking some of it." She squeezed his shoulders. "Despite what you think, the company wasn't fall apart if you're gone for a few days."

"And it's good press?" Tony guessed.

Pepper met his eyes, unashamed. "Yes, it is. The two of you taking off for a cute, romantic getaway is something that the newspapers will lap up. Just make sure that you and Steve don't actually appear in any of them and we're golden. Later on, you guys might have to take a trip where the media gets a few shots of you, but Steve asked me to make sure that this trip was explicitly private and I did. You're going to that cabin you own in upper Ontario."

"Canada?" Tony said with a whistle, nodding. It made sense. He hadn't been to that place in years, but it was definitely secluded. If he remembered correctly, the nearest town was a good half hour drive through a dense forest. There would definitely be privacy for whatever Steve had planned.

The music stopped and so did they, Pepper's gown swirling around her legs. "Yes. He specifically asked for snow. Do you know why?"

Tony vaguely remembered Steve saying something about snowsuits and skating and willed himself not to blush. For anyone else, that would probably sound like a pretty romantic weekend. He knew better. There was no doubt in his mind that Steve was planning a weekend full of age play. He was positive that JARVIS had probably been very busy over the past day or so, ordering not only food and other necessities for the cabin, but also winter gear in the exact sizes needed to fit both Tony and Steve. And knowing Steve, Tony's would be as childish as they came.

He cleared his throat. "I think he just wants to make some good memories of the snow, you know?"

Pepper's face softened. "That makes sense. I hope your weekend is wonderful, then. I do need you to come into the office for a while tomorrow. You have some meetings to get through. Then you can be on your way."

"I'll be there," Tony said, sensing someone coming up behind him. He tensed a little as someone's hand landed on his lower back, but relaxed when he recognized Steve's familiar aftershave. Natasha was there too, a wicked look in her eyes and a hand outstretched in a silent invitation for Tony to dance. He paused just long enough to give Steve a quick kiss on the cheek before accepting.

As promised, he did go to the office the next day. Pepper had set up a meeting with the board and then, as though trying to reward Tony for sitting through an excruciatingly boring morning, a meeting with R&D to go over some of their latest developments. Following that, Tony spent about three hours in his own personal office, wrangling his way through an ever-growing stack of paperwork that required his signature. He was still bent over the stack, muttering under his breath about stupid people, when there was a knock on the door, and a moment later Steve poked his head in.

"Did you know that apparently some people think that it's okay to not give bonuses so long as it means extra money in their own pockets?" Tony said without looking up. He scribbled a couple of lines through the paper and wrote 'NO' in huge letters across the top. He was pretty sure that Pepper would never have allowed that to go through anyway, but sometimes the idiots on the Board needed a reminder that he and Pepper stood together on issues like these.

"I'd believe it," Steve said; normally that would've been more than enough to set him off on a rant about the modern century, but he remained silent. Tony finally looked up at him in confusion. His stomach flipped over at the sight of the warm smile on Steve's face.

"What?" he asked, a little self-conscious.

"Nothing. Just wondering if you were ready to go. We're all packed."

Tony paused in the middle of setting his pen down. "... We are?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Natasha packed your suitcase," he said. "Not me."

"Oh, that's fine then," Tony said, relaxing. He had to hold back a laugh at Steve's affronted look, but the truth of the matter was that Steve's tastes ran towards plaid and pants that were in style two centuries ago. There was nothing wrong with that, of course, but Tony was far more accustomed to a certain level of style. A level that Steve didn't even try to understand, much less appreciate.

"You won't be wearing any of those clothes this weekend anyway," Steve said. It was a remark that could've sounded sexual, but Tony knew the real intent behind it and flushed.

"You're such a flatterer," he said, just in case someone was listening, and stood up. His back cracked when he straightened, and Tony sighed pleasantly. That was a lot better. He cast another glance at his desk, just to make sure that he hadn't forgotten anything important, but everything else could either wait or Pepper could handle it.

"I try," Steve said. He held the door open. "Come on. I have a coffee waiting in the car for you."

"And you bought me coffee? You do know the way to my heart."

Steve just smiled. They took the elevator down together and walked out to the car. Unsurprisingly, Steve had opted to drive one of Tony's cars over instead of having a car with a driver. That was fine with Tony. He slid down into the passenger seat, holding the extra-large coffee cup protectively against his chest, as Steve got into the driver's seat. All they had to do now was make it out to the airport and then, except for the pilot of the plane, they'd be home free. He was surprised to realize how much he was looking forward to it.

Chapter Text

"Will that be all, Captain Rogers?"

Steve glanced at the truck. The pilot had helped him and Tony to load their luggage into the back of it: thankfully, the man hadn't asked why they had brought so many bags for what was essentially a four day weekend. Hopefully he would just assume that Tony Stark never traveled light, as Tony would curl up and die of mortification if anyone found out what was actually inside most of those bags. But now, everything was loaded and Steve could see Tony sitting in the passenger seat of the truck, tapping away on his phone.

They were ready.

"I think we're good," Steve said. He was anxious to get going: he could see his breath every time he spoke. It was chillier here than he'd expected. "Thanks for your help."

The pilot tipped his hat with a smile. "No problem. Ms. Potts said that you would be flying back Tuesday morning, is that still correct?"

"Yes, that's right. Tuesday morning at 9am," Steve said with a nod. The thought of such an early morning flight wasn't really appealing, but it would give Tony time to get back to his normal headspace before he was thrust back into the limelight. Pepper had already warned them that the press would probably catch wind of their trip and be waiting to pounce when they returned to New York.

"We'll see you then."

"Thanks again," Steve called, heading over to the truck. For the first time since he'd woken up from the ice, he actually smiled at the sight of the snow on the ground. It couldn't have been more than an inch, but Tony had promised that they would find deeper snow as they drove up into the mountains. And Steve, surprising even himself, was actually excited about it. He couldn't wait to see how his baby reacted to the snow.

He opened the driver's side door and climbed into the truck, which Tony had already turned on. The G.P.S. was pre-loaded with their destination, which was only a forty-five minute drive away, and they didn't need to make any stops: the truck was full of gas and JARVIS had taken care of making sure that the cabin would be pre-stocked with ample food and anything else that they would need. Steve buckled his seatbelt and put the truck into drive, humming to himself as they pulled out onto the highway.

For the first half of the drive, Tony's attention was on his phone. Then, about twenty minutes in, he let out a huff. "Pep's yelling at me."

"Is she telling you to put your phone away because you're on vacation?"

"No," Tony said, which was such an obvious lie that Steve just raised an eyebrow. Tony stuck his tongue out in response and locked his phone, sliding it into his pocket.

"Everything will still be there when you get back," Steve promised.

"I know. That's the problem." But Tony didn't take his phone back out, though he did start complaining under his breath about the truck they were riding in and what terrible shape it was in. Steve didn't really see the problem - the truck rode pretty well to him, and it handled beautifully on the slightly icy roads - but Tony was adamant that he would be able to give it a tune up that the rental company would never forget. Steve didn't bother pointing out that Tony would probably end up buying the truck if he did that. Knowing Tony, that bit of information would only encourage him.

It actually took Steve a couple of minutes to register when Tony's muttering stopped. He glanced over to the other side of the car and realized that it was because Tony had fallen asleep. He was propped up against the passenger side door; he'd jammed his hat between his head and the window in an effort to make it more comfortable. He looked so sweet. Steve couldn't stop smiling as he reached out to turn the radio down.

Tony didn't wake up even when they pulled up in front of the cabin. Steve left him to sleep, having no problem with carting in their bags and suitcases by himself. The cabin was larger than he'd expected - he didn't know why he expected anything that Tony owned to be small - and had been recently cleaned. He got the heat switched on first thing because it was a little chilly, then went back out to the truck to fetch his partner. He opened the door very carefully, but Tony stayed in place thanks to the seatbelt. It took a little finagling to get him out of the truck without waking him, but Steve managed.

He carried Tony inside the cabin, kicking the door shut behind them. He laid Tony down on the couch for the time being and grabbed some of their bags. It turned out the cabin was laid out on one floor. There was a kitchen, living room, dining room, sun room, and six bedrooms, plus three bathrooms. Steve picked the largest bedroom and quickly made up the bed with a pair of sheets they'd brought from the tower.

Then he laid out a changing mat, set out the necessary supplies, and went to find Tony. Tony hadn't moved while Steve was gone except to roll over onto his side. Amazingly, he still remained asleep even when Steve leaned down and picked him up again. The show of trust from a man who was slow to trust anyone (and for good reason) made Steve's chest ache in the best way.

"Come on, baby boy. Let's get you ready for the night," he said softly, carrying Tony down the hall way. It was just after 9:00pm, but he thought it would end up being an early night for both of them. Tony was clearly exhausted, and Steve could think of far worse ways to spend the night than curled up around his partner.

Partner. In every way of the word now. He smiled like an idiot every time he thought about it, but he couldn't help it. What had started as a ruse had turned into everything Steve could have ever asked for. He hadn't dared to hope that Tony might feel the same way, but it seemed that Tony did and that he was willing to give things a shot between them. Steve had no idea what he'd done in life to get this lucky.

Tony finally stirred when Steve set him down on the bed, brown eyes fluttering open and peering up at Steve. "What's goin' on?"

"Nothing," Steve said, unzipping Tony's jacket. He pulled it off and set it aside; he'd packed warmer coats for both of them, knowing that the thinner jackets they'd been wearing to run from building to car and vice versa in New York wouldn't do.

"You wanna start now?" Tony said, blinking sleepily. He obediently raised his arms when Steve lifted the bottom of his shirt, allowing Steve to pull it over his head.

"Unless you don't want to," Steve said, pausing.

"No, that's fine. I'm tired. You continue." Tony fell back and sighed, waving his hand for Steve to proceed.

"How magnanimous of you," Steve said, amused, and reached for Tony's pants and boxers. He tugged them both down and off, folding up the pants and dropping the boxers into a laundry bag.

"Hurry up. I'm cold," Tony whined, sliding his arms across his chest and shivering.

"Sorry, honey. I'm going as fast as I can." He hurried back to the bed and picked up a diaper. After the disaster where Tony's diaper had overflowed, Steve had done a little research and bought new diapers for bedtime. Mostly because he'd felt terrible when Tony had been so upset about wetting the bed. Steve never wanted to see Tony cry like that again.

He lifted Tony's lower half and slid the diaper underneath him. Tony spread his legs a little, letting Steve powder him without complaint. But he started to squirm when Steve pulled the diaper up and stuck it into place. "This feels different," he said, running a hand over the diaper.

"They're thicker and have a better absorbency," Steve explained. Not to mention, the new diapers were adorable. They were patterned with little black cats that would turn white when exposed to fluid, giving him an easy way to tell if Tony was wet. If Tony liked them, he was half-thinking about switching to them permanently just because of how cute they were.

Tony's face reddened. "Oh. We don't - I can sleep in a different room," he mumbled.

They'd never really talked about what had happened, and now Steve saw that was a mistake. "No, baby, that's not what I meant. I don't care that you peed on me, Tony. I told you before: I saw and experienced way worse during the war. I bought these diapers to make you feel better about us sharing a bed. I mean, if you want to sleep in a different bed you can..." Steve let his voice trail off. He wouldn't deny Tony that choice, but he hoped that Tony would agree to continue sharing a bed.

Tony was quiet for a moment, but eventually he shook his head. "Wanna sleep with you, Daddy," he said in a very small voice.

Steve melted. "Of course you can, sweetheart," he cooed, running a hand through Tony's hair. "Let me just put some jammies on you and then we'll have something light to eat, okay?" The 'jammies' were actually just an old t-shirt of Steve's. It was too big and stretched out now for his tastes, but Tony loved it even though the fabric dwarfed him. The upside was that he looked endlessly cute while wearing it, like a little kid dressing up in Daddy's clothing.

"And look, I brought your friends," Steve added, pulling Tony's teddy bear and monkey out of the bag. Tony's eyes lit up and he reached for both toys, pulling them close to his chest. Steve scooped him up, toys and all, and walked back out to the kitchen.

It was smaller than the tower's kitchen, but that wasn't much of a surprise. It also lacked a high chair for the baby, which Steve figured Tony wouldn't complain too much about. He set Tony down on the floor for the moment and opened a few of the cupboards and the refrigerator. JARVIS had done well, stocking the cupboards with non-perishable foods while also making sure that there was bread, milk, cheese, butter, fruit, veggies, and meat.

"What do you feel like having for supper?" he asked, turning to look at Tony.

Tony thought about it for a moment. He slid his thumb into his mouth and said, "'nanas?"

"You want bananas? I think we can do that." A fruit salad and a bottle would make a pretty decent supper in Steve's opinion. He set about slicing up some of the fruit he'd found until there was enough for the two of them. With no high chair, he pulled Tony up onto his lap and started to feed them both.

"Me," Tony said.

"What?"

"Me. I do." Tony grabbed a piece of cucumber and held it up to Steve.

Steve smiled and opened his mouth, letting Tony push the piece of cucumber inside. He made a show of chewing and swallowing. "Mmm, thank you, sweetheart. That was delicious. Could you get me another piece?"

Tony grinned and picked up a piece of strawberry. He insisted on feeding him and Steve the remainder of the food, and it was cute enough that Steve didn't protest even though it took a lot longer. Because, for the first time since they'd started age playing together, it wasn't like they had anything to rush for. They had four whole days to spend together and Steve planned to enjoy every moment of it.

Chapter Text

The feeling of familiar hands un-strapping his diaper woke Tony from a sound sleep. He sucked lazily on his pacifier, keeping his eyes shut as Daddy removed his wet diaper, cleaned him up, and put a new diaper on. It was true that Tony hadn’t been sure about wearing a diaper at first. But now he was realizing that there was something to be said for how clean he felt after a change: it was a good feeling.

Daddy crawled back into bed beside him, pulling Tony into his arms. Tony snuggled into him, putting his head over Daddy’s chest so that he could hear the sound of his heart. It was a comforting, strong sound. The history books said that Daddy had suffered from a heart murmur before the serum, but if that was the case there was no sign of it now. Tony found himself glad for that; he liked knowing that there was no chance of Daddy getting sick.

He let out a pleased hum when Daddy’s hand landed on his back and started to rub up and down. Daddy chuckled softly but didn’t speak, seemingly content to enjoy the peace and quiet. And it was quiet, Tony realized. In the tower, even if there was no one else around, you could always hear the low thrum of electronics. There was nothing like that here.

He closed his eyes, though he wasn’t tired enough to fall back asleep. For once, his brain wasn’t racing with a hundred different thoughts at once. Everything back in New York – the Avengers, Stark Industries, SHIELD – felt miles away. All he had to focus on was the sound of Daddy’s heart and the feel of Daddy’s hand on his back, the weight of the blanket over his lower half and the freshly cleaned feeling that lingered. He sighed.

They must have lain there for well over an hour before Daddy moved, sliding out from under Tony even though Tony tried to grab onto him. Daddy just smiled and caught Tony’s flailing hands, pressing a sweet kiss to them. “Stay here and go back to sleep, my little monkey,” he whispered. “Daddy’s going to put something in the oven for supper tonight.”

Tony didn’t want food. He wanted to cuddle! He tried to grab Daddy’s pajama pants, but Daddy slipped out of his grasp and handed him his teddy bear instead. Tony pouted as Daddy walked out of the room, laying back down on the pillow Daddy had been using. It smelled like him, like a mixture of the cologne and the shampoo that Daddy favored. He tucked his nose into the pillow to better inhale.

He didn’t mean to doze off – he fully intended to crawl out of bed, march into the kitchen and demand that his daddy accompany him back to bed – but he must have, because the next thing he knew Daddy was back in the room with him. Tony blinked fuzzily as Daddy’s hand ran through his hair. He stretched all his limbs out in a full body stretch, then went limp against the bed.

Daddy cooed at him. “Aw, my poor baby. You’re still so sleepy. It’s time to get up, though. You can have a nap later, okay?” He slid both arms under Tony’s body and lifted him up. Tony whined until he realized his destination was Daddy’s shoulder, at which point he wound his arms around Daddy’s neck and cuddled in grumpily. This wasn’t as good as Daddy coming back to bed, but it would do.

“Shh, shh, sweetie, it’s okay,” Daddy whispered, patting his bottom. “Come here and look at this.” He crossed the room and opened the curtains a crack, letting in some of the daylight. Tony squinted, blinking his eyes rapidly to adjust, and quickly realized what Daddy was talking about.

It had snowed overnight. Another five or six inches had fallen, leaving an untouched landscape that looked straight out of one of Tony’s picture books: great, fluffy piles of snow had been dumped all over. The trees were all coated with a thin layer of ice and were gleaming under the mid-morning sun. A couple of squirrels were leaping from branch to branch, leaving behind a shower of ice crystals that sparkled in the sunlight.

Daddy smiled at Tony’s wide eyes. “I know. I was pretty surprised myself when I looked out this morning.” He glanced out the window, smile fading. For a moment, something haunted flashed across his face, like he was seeing something different from what Tony was seeing. Tony frowned at that. He wanted Daddy here with him this weekend. There was no space for bad memories right now.

“Daddy, play?” he asked, patting Daddy’s cheek.

Daddy blinked, looking back at Tony as though he’d forgotten Tony was there. “You wanna play?”

Tony nodded. “Play,” he said decisively, kicking his legs. He’d never actually played in snow before, but surely that would give Daddy some good memories to counteract the bad ones. Tony had heard, from various people, that playing in the snow was loads of fun. He was suddenly eager to find out for himself.

He squirmed eagerly until Daddy laughed. “Okay, okay. But we gotta get you dressed first. I don’t think you’d handle the snow very well in a diaper and t-shirt.”

“Don’t wanna,” Tony said. “Wanna play!”

“We will play, just as soon you’re dressed.” Daddy swung him around and dropped him on the bed. Tony couldn’t help giggling as he bounced, and then Daddy swooped down on him and started blowing raspberries on his bare belly. He shrieked at the sensation and started wiggling around, trying to get free. Daddy pinned him down easily, face alight with laughter as he blew even more raspberries.

“Daddy! Stop!” Tony shrieked between giggles, batting at his head. “No!”

“Yes! You wanted to play!” Daddy was grinning. He blew a raspberry directly against Tony’s belly button. Tony squealed with laughter and felt a rush of warmth fill his diaper as he peed himself. But he couldn’t stop laughing long enough to worry about it, either. He squirmed and wiggled and giggled until he was gasping for breath. Only then did Daddy stop, sitting up on his knees and smiling down at Tony.

“Still wanna play, little boy?”

“Play outside,” Tony said, wrapping his arms protectively over his bare belly. He kicked at Daddy, but Daddy just caught his foot and tickled the bottom. Tony squealed again, shaking his head frantically because his feet were really ticklish, and managed to jerk his foot free. He scrambled up the bed and curled in on himself.

Daddy chuckled. “Okay, okay. Come here. Let’s get dressed.”

“No!”

“I won’t tickle you anymore, I promise,” Daddy said. “Hey, did you want to wear this today?” He got up and walked over to their bags. Tony watched curiously, slightly wary, as Daddy bent down and rummaged through the bag until he pulled out a sweater. It was bright purple with a picture of the Hulk on the front. The words ‘HULK SMASH’ were written above in yellow.

“Yeah! Hulk!”

“Hulk it is!” Daddy said. “And green pants to match?” He held up the pants, which had the same yellow words printed down the legs. Tony beamed.

“No tickle?” he said as Daddy came back to the bed, eyeing the sweater longingly.

“No tickle,” Daddy promised. “I have to change your diaper first, though.”

Tony pouted a little but laid down so Daddy could change him. It seemed to take forever before Daddy was finished. Then he helped Tony to put on the sweater and pants. They were both very soft against Tony’s skin, and he wiggled happily as Daddy hauled on some jeans and a blue sweater patterned with snowflakes. The finishing touch for them both were socks: Daddy’s a plain, boring blue, and Tony’s purple with a pattern of green mini-Hulks.

Daddy gave him a clean pacifier, purple this time to match his shirt, and then scooped him up. Tony sucked on his pacifier as they walked out to the kitchen. He could tell that there was something in the oven, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Whatever Daddy had been cooking, he’d cleaned up the mess before coming to wake Tony up. But something smelled good.

“I thought we’d have toast for a late breakfast,” Daddy said, nuzzling Tony’s cheek. “And then go sledding for a while.”

Sledding? Tony perked up at the idea, nodding eagerly. When he was a kid, sometimes JARVIS would take him to the park and they’d watch the other kids sled for hours. Tony was never allowed to try – Starks didn’t do anything that childish out in public unless it was in a very controlled environment and strictly for media purposes – but he remembered watching the other kids with longing.

With that thought in mind, Tony didn’t even want to eat breakfast. Daddy made it clear that they weren’t going anywhere until Tony had eaten at least two pieces of toast, so he begrudgingly allowed Daddy to feed him (Tony wasn’t allowed to feed himself after he crammed a whole piece of toast in his mouth in his rush to get breakfast over with). It took forever.

Finally, though, Daddy was done. He didn’t even make Tony wait while he washed the dishes; he just set the dishes to soak and then picked Tony up and carried him out to the hallway. There was a whole array of winter gear waiting there, most of which Tony had never seen before. Daddy set him down on the ground, and Tony poked curiously at the bright red parka. It was a far cry from the sleek black jacket he wore when he was big.

“I had JARVIS buy that for you. Your jacket isn’t enough for the snow,” Daddy explained. He helped Tony to pull on the red snow pants, which were puffy and made it ridiculously hard to walk. Add in the red parka, heavy boots, a scarf, hat and mitts, and Tony was starting to feel like a marshmallow. He’d never dressed like this before.

“Hot,” he whined, tugging at his scarf.

“No, baby. You’ll need it outside.” Daddy quickly zipped up his own jacket, grabbed his mitts and hat, and picked Tony up. He opened the door and a gust of wind hit them both. Daddy shivered but stepped outside anyway.

It was colder out than Tony had expected, but not so cold he didn’t want to be outside. Daddy set him down while he went to get the sled, and Tony kneeled down in the snow. The snow was just as fluffy as it looked, which would be good for sledding but not so good for building a snowman. He frowned a little, disappointed. He’d never made a snowman before, either.

“Tony?” Daddy called. “Come on, sweetheart.”

But at least they could sled. Tony grinned and stood up, making his way over to Daddy as fast as he could. It was unexpectedly hard to walk when his boots sank so deeply into the snow with every step. He had to lift his knees a lot higher than he normally did. Daddy noticed his struggle and grinned at him, grabbing his hand so that they could walk side by side. Of course, it was pretty hard to hold hands when they were both wearing fat mittens, but Tony appreciated the sentiment.

They walked to the top of the hill behind the cabin, Daddy dragging a sled behind them. Looking down the hill, Tony felt an unexpected swell of nerves. Suddenly the ground seemed very far away. And he knew that sleds went really fast. He swallowed hard, clenching his hands into fists inside his mittens. His tummy was filled with butterflies.

“Ready, baby?” Daddy asked. He’d pulled the sled around and sat down on the back of it. He opened his arms up for Tony.

Tony just stared at him. Then he looked from the hill to Daddy and back again. His eyes got hot and wet. It was dumb, but he didn’t know if he wanted to go down the hill anymore.

“Hey. Sweetie, it’s okay.” Suddenly Daddy was there, giving him a hug. “You don’t have to sled if you don’t want to.”

“Wanna,” Tony said in a tiny voice.

Daddy patted his head. “It’s a little scary, isn’t it?”

Tony felt a tear roll down his cheek. He nodded.

“Do you wanna watch Daddy go down first?” Daddy asked.

Tony thought about it and nodded again.

“Okay. You stay right here and watch.” Daddy kissed his cheek, wiping away the tear. He went back over to the sled and climbed on. He smiled at Tony and then pushed off, letting out a whoop of excitement. He sped all the way down to the bottom before gradually coming to a stop on a spray of snow. He got up from the sled, turned and waved at Tony. Tony slowly waved back.

Daddy made his way back up the hill, pulling the sled behind him. His cheeks were pink from the wind. He looked really happy. “What do you think?”

Tony was still scared. But he wanted to give Daddy happy memories. So he made himself nod. Daddy smiled a great big smile, and he knew he’d made the right choice. Still, his heart was racing as Daddy sat down at the back of the sled and helped Tony to sit down in front of him. Daddy wrapped both arms around Tony’s waist, pulling Tony back against his chest, and held the reins of the sled.

“Ready?” he said into Tony’s ear. He waited for Tony to nod before pushing off. Tony gasped and shrank back against him as the sled started to move. It picked up speed really fast. The wind stung his cheeks and a bunch of snow flew into his face; they went over a bump and Daddy laughed with glee, and then, just like that, they were at the bottom.

For a moment, Tony just sat there, stunned.

“Tony?” Daddy said, sounding a little worried. “Was it alright?”

Tony turned and looked at him. He beamed. “AGAIN!”

Chapter Text

Steve was genuinely not expecting to have as much fun as he was. Sledding was a whole new experience for him and it was surprisingly thrilling every damn time they slid down the hill. He’d been a little concerned about this weekend, wondering if he could make it a good time for Tony. The whole team knew that Steve didn’t like the cold and that he made it a point to avoid what little snow they got in New York. It was enlightening to find out that snow and ice could actually be fun.

They coasted to a stop at the bottom of the hill – at least this time, they hadn’t hit a bump in the snow and gone flying. There’d been a moment of serious panic during which Steve had convinced himself that Tony would be hysterical, considering how little Tony seemed to be feeling today, and he’d scrabbled out of the snow as fast he could. But when he rolled over and sat up, it was to find Tony a few feet away giggling like mad.

This had been good for both of them, Steve had to admit. It was amazing to see Tony letting himself go: there was no sign of the stress and worry lines that usually covered Tony’s face. He was all smiles right now, apple-red cheeks and brown eyes shining every time Steve grabbed his mitt so they could trudge up the hill together. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Tony this relaxed, or this playful. Being away from the tower was freeing to a degree he couldn’t have anticipated.

“Whew, that was fun,” he sighed to no one in particular, heaving himself to his feet. The winter gear was bulky and made it difficult to maneuver, but he didn’t regret wearing it. Even if it was pretty much soaked through now thanks to the melting snow.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Tony yawning. Realization hit Steve like a bolt of Thor’s lightening. Judging by the position of the sun, he and Tony had been out here for at least three or four hours, if not longer. Not only was Tony probably exhausted, he probably needed a diaper change as well. And Steve was getting pretty hungry. This was more exertion than he’d expected when preparing breakfast.

“Hey,” he said, catching Tony’s shoulder when the baby went to stand. It was a good thing that he had: Tony stumbled and squeaked in alarm as a crusty bit of snow gave way beneath his foot. He fell straight into Steve’s arms. Steve caught him with ease, though he nearly lost his own footing when the snow beneath his own feet shifted.

“Ugh,” Tony said into Steve’s chest, sounding so put-out that Steve had to grin.

“I know. This snow is tricky stuff when you’re not used to it,” Steve said. He was realizing that Tony’s clothes were just as wet, if not more so, than Steve’s. Tony had to be cold. Why hadn’t he said anything?

“Stupid snow,” Tony mumbled, leaning heavily against Steve as he straightened.

“Yeah. Why don’t we go inside and have some hot chocolate to warm up?” Steve suggested, brushing some powder off Tony’s hat.

“No!” Tony exclaimed, looking up at him. “More sledding!”

“But baby, you’re tired. I can see it. I think you need a nap.”

“No,” Tony said again, more stubbornly this time. “Daddy play.” He tugged on Steve’s arm. “Daddy play in the snow.”

“We have been playing in the snow,” Steve said, confused. “We’ve been playing for a long time.”

“Play more,” Tony insisted. “Daddy like snow.”

Steve stared at him. “Sweetheart, are you trying to get me to like the snow?” he asked.

“Daddy like snow,” Tony repeated, nodding.

There were times when Steve didn’t know what he’d done to deserve Tony, and this was one of them. He had to blink back tears, overwhelmed at how much Tony cared. No wonder Tony had been so determined to sled, even though he was clearly frightened. He wanted to make Steve enjoy the experience and have something positive to combat the nightmares that Steve still had of crashing the plane. Steve couldn’t remember the last time someone had put that much thought into his happiness.

He swallowed hard, not wanting to cry in front of Tony. Not while they were age playing, anyway. “I do like the snow,” he said.

It must not have sounded very convincing judging by Tony’s skeptical look.

Steve sighed and knelt down in the snow, looking up into Tony’s face. “Tony, honey, listen to me. I’ve had a lot of fun playing with you in the snow, but right now we’re both cold and tired. Later on we’ll play more.”

Tony was quiet for a second, mulling this over, before he said, “Promise?”

“I promise,” Steve said, sliding his hands under Tony’s arms. He lifted Tony as he stood up, pulling the baby in for a big hug. Tony hugged him back as much as he was able to, but it was hard to get close when their winter clothing was so puffy. They definitely needed to get inside for a while.

He shifted Tony’s weight to one arm and grabbed the sled, towing it behind him. It was easier walking back to the cabin because he could walk in the trail they’d already created. Steve left the sled on the front porch and opened the door, feeling Tony shiver as a blast of heat engulfed them. Or at least, that’s what it felt like as they stepped inside the warmth of the cabin.

He had to set Tony down in order to remove their outerwear. Steve stripped Tony’s clothes off first before removing his own, hanging everything to dry in the mudroom. His jeans and sweater were clammy from perspiration, and Tony’s sweater and pants were in a similar state. He was also, Steve discovered when he stuck a finger down the back of Tony’s diaper, definitely in need of a change.

“Come on, baby boy,” he murmured, lifting Tony back into his arms. He took the opportunity to steal a cuddle as they walked down the hall into the bedroom. Tony nuzzled into him like a sleepy kitten, trying to hide a series of cute yawns behind his hands.

Steve laid him down on the bed and removed the rest of his clothing and soiled diaper. Then he grabbed a wet washcloth from the bathroom and gave the baby a quick scrub down to remove the worst of the sweat. Tony underwent the hand-wash without complaint, though he did pout when Steve left him to air dry while he went to give himself a quick wash.

“Hey now, where’s my happy boy?” Steve said, walking back into the room. He hauled on a pair of boxers and sat on the edge of the bed, realizing that he was probably going to have a cranky, over-tired baby on his hands very shortly if he didn’t act quickly.

He got a fresh diaper on Tony, then took the baby with him out to the kitchen so he could get a bottle ready. Tony was clearly tired, rubbing at his eyes and turning his head away when Steve tried to give him a pacifier. Fussing, Steve thought with a smile, though he wouldn’t have dared to say the word out loud. It was kind of adorable. He patted Tony’s back and picked up the heated bottle, carrying both back into the bedroom.

Thank god he’d had the foresight to pack a couple of Tony’s books. Steve picked up the one they’d been working through and got them both comfortable on the bed, setting Tony against some pillows. He held the book with one hand and pressed the bottle to Tony’s mouth with the other. Tony resisted the bottle for all of two minutes, until Steve had gotten through a couple of pages, and then he gave in and began to suck.

Three chapters in and Tony was asleep, snoring softly. Steve swapped the nipple of the bottle for a pacifier and eased out of the bed, substituting the teddy bear for his own presence. He left the door open just in case and headed out to the kitchen. He checked on the turkey, which was maybe a little overcooked now but he knew Tony wouldn’t care, and then made himself up a couple of sandwiches. He sat at the table to eat.

The cabin felt quiet without Tony’s presence, but it wasn’t a bad thing. There were lots of times when Steve was a kid where he couldn’t get the breath to speak, so he ended up sitting in silence either by himself, or with his mom or Bucky. In the tower though, quiet was hard to come by. Only Tony, Steve, Natasha, Clint and Bruce lived there full time, but there were frequent guests and (sometimes) what felt like a constant strain of visitors.

Thinking of his mom, remembering how hard she worked and how she never let anything bring her down even when she was at the point of exhaustion, Steve had to wonder if she would’ve liked Tony. And he honestly thought that she would have. Tony worked harder than anyone else Steve knew, even though Tony also constantly downplayed his accomplishments. He was pretty sure that Sarah Rogers would’ve wrapped Tony up in a hug and never let go.

He hoped that she would’ve been proud of Steve for coming this far, for trying to help Tony gain a fraction back of everything that he’d lost to Howard’s hands. Or maybe she would’ve just been pissed that this was even necessary. He entertained himself briefly with the thought of what Sarah would’ve done to Howard Stark. Pure rage wouldn’t have covered it. Had his mother been alive now, and had Steve known Tony growing up, there was no doubt in his mind that Sarah would’ve done whatever she could do help Tony.

Steve would’ve too, if he could’ve. He didn’t understand how things had gone so wrong. He’d never been that close to Howard; he wouldn’t have called Howard a friend, maybe an acquaintance at best. He’d always been closer to Bucky and the Howling Commandos and Peggy. And he knew, from scattered conversations with Tony and Phil Coulson and Nick Fury, that Howard had been obsessed with finding him after Steve’s death. What he didn’t understand was why.

“Cause you were his greatest creation, that’s why. The thing he was most proud of.”

So much for supersoldier hearing. Steve jumped a foot in the air, nearly knocking his glass of milk over. “Tony! I thought you were sleeping!” Just how long had he been lost in thought? He glanced at the clock, realizing that Tony had only been sleeping for about fifteen minutes.

Tony yawned. He’d gone to sleep in just a diaper, but now he was wearing one of Steve’s shirts. It was too big on him by far, falling off one shoulder and the hem hanging down around his thighs. He looked at Steve. “I heard the sound of your voice. I wondered who you were talking to.”

“I didn’t even realize that I was thinking out loud,” Steve said. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t that tired,” Tony lied. He shuffled closer, bare feet against the kitchen floor, and said, “It’s true, though. He used to say that all the time. He was so sure that you were still out there, and he was so obsessed with finding you that he made sure that the expeditions wouldn’t stop even after he died. You should be grateful. If it were up to me, I would’ve stopped them and then you never would’ve been found.”

“I’m not,” Steve said immediately, holding a hand out to him. Tony came close enough to take Steve’s hand, and Steve pulled him down onto his lap. He lifted Tony’s feet up, wincing when he felt how cold they were, and guided Tony’s toes under his arm for warmth.

“Why not?” Tony said. He seemed to be somewhere in between his two headspaces, not fully little but not big either – he was still wearing the diaper. Steve hugged him.

“Because it meant that you suffered, Tony. I know we haven’t talked about this, but… it’s obvious that you had a very difficult childhood, and I’m sure that’s putting it mildly. The nightmares you have sometimes… I would never wish that on any child, but especially you. And knowing that it happened because of me? I have a hard time living with that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Tony mumbled. “I was angry with you when we first met, but I know that was wrong. It's just because Howard isn't here for me to be angry at anymore.”

“I wish he was. I’d punch him for you.”

That drew a small smile, but it soon slid away. “Daddy? I mean… Steve?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Can I… I want to tell you. About him.”

Steve stilled, startled. But when he realized that Tony was shaking a little, either from nerves or fear or both, he quickly said, “Of course you can. I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me.”

“Okay,” Tony whispered. And then, in a very tiny voice, he started to talk.

Chapter Text

“Tell me about Howard,” Peggy had said once. It had been a cold, damp day: it was raining, Tony remembered, not quite cold enough yet to snow, and he’d been grateful for that because it meant Aunt Peggy picked him up from school instead of Jarvis. She’d taken him out for tea (well, tea for her and warm milk for Tony – maybe that was why he didn’t mind bottles) at a little London-style café, and when they had their cake and their drinks, she’d asked him that question.

He was only five at the time, too young to really understand the gravity of the question and why she might be asking, but smart enough to know that she didn’t want to hear the stories that Tony spun for the press when reporters asked him what he and his parents had done over the weekend. He’d gotten very adept at creating those stories, and used to spend hours dreaming about what they might have done.

“Does he hit you?” Peggy had asked. “I know he neglects you.” Her lips, covered in bright red lipstick, had quivered, like she couldn’t believe she was asking.

“What does neglect mean?” Tony had asked.

Peggy had taken a deep breath. “It means your father doesn’t pay enough attention to you,” she’d said. “Has he ever hit you, Tony?”

Tony remembered looking up at her, at his strong, wild Aunt Peggy. Even then, he’d recognized the stubborn set of her chin and known that his answer had the potential to change a lot. And that was frightening. The last big change in the Stark household had taken place only two months ago, when his mother found out she couldn’t have any more children. Tony knew now that Howard and Maria hadn’t wanted any more kids, but at the time the knowledge had thrown Howard into a tailspin.

So for the first time, he’d lied to her. “No.”

And they’d both known it was a lie, but Peggy had still looked relieved. Now, Tony could understand why. Peggy was young then, still establishing her role as one of the heads of the SSR, only just married, not yet a mother. She would’ve fought for him if Tony had said yes, because Peggy was never one to stand for that kind of thing. But it would’ve ruined her - Howard would have ruined her – and everything she’d worked so hard for.

He was glad that he had lied.

Remembering that moment, Tony turned his head slightly to look at Steve. “He wasn’t cut out to be a father. Everyone knew that. Howard liked fast things. Flashy things. He liked money. He liked being able to pick up a hobby and then drop it the next day if he wanted to. He didn’t like being tied down.”

“But he got married,” Steve said, as though he couldn’t help himself.

“It was what you did. He needed an heir, and god forbid the Stark fortune be left to someone who wasn’t a Stark by blood.” Tony swallowed a bitter laugh. Shows how much Howard knew. Tony would never have children. He couldn’t even entertain the idea. He had plans to leave his fortune to Pepper’s and Rhodey’s children, should they have any, or a couple of smart protégés if they didn’t.

“Besides, my mother was hardly someone who liked being tied down herself. She was younger than my father, and she was more than willing to let him do what he wanted so long as she could have her discreet dalliances.” He felt Steve shift underneath him, probably in surprise. “Yeah, I know. Everyone thinks Howard was the one who… how would you put it? Stepped out? They both did, I think. Maybe less so after I came around.

“Despite that, I think their marriage was mostly happy. At first, anyway. Later…” Tony trailed off, gathering himself. Feeling his stomach tie itself up into knots. “I really don’t think he knew what to do with me. Man like that who puts his whole worth on being the smartest person in the room? I was smarter than him and he knew it. Worse yet, there was nothing he could do about it. I was a problem that he couldn’t throw money at. I was a problem that couldn’t just disappear in the middle of the night.”

Steve’s grip immediately tightened. He didn’t say anything – and that was a struggle, Tony knew – but his arms spoke volumes. Tony couldn’t resist snuggling in a little, believing, if only for a moment, that Steve really did want him around forever.

“He didn’t beat me, if that’s what you think. Howard was better than that. He’d slap me once in a while, especially when he was drunk. And he was drunk a lot,” Tony added thoughtfully. “I come by my appreciation for alcohol honestly, let’s put it that way. He gave me my first one, you know. I was six years old.”

Steve made a strangled sound. “Six?!”

Tony smiled in spite of himself. “Six. I was crying and Howard told me that real men don’t cry. Real men drink.” His smile faded. “Stark men are made of iron,” he whispered. He’d lost count of how many times he’d gotten drunk to that mantra over the years.

“You…” Steve paused, taking a deep breath before he continued. “Tony, I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tony said, patting Steve’s arm. He wondered now if maybe he should’ve kept this to himself. He wasn’t telling Steve this to make Steve feel guilty, but because Steve seemed to genuinely want to know. They’d never talked about Howard, not really. Steve had asked a couple of times back when he first came to the tower, but he’d realized pretty quickly that Tony didn’t like talking about it and that more often than not, Howard was a topic that caused a fight between them.

“It’s not okay,” Steve said fiercely. “I didn’t know him very well, but I counted him amongst my friends. I haven’t for a long time now, but especially not now. I can’t believe he did that to a child!”

Tony winced a little. “You can’t believe it?”

Steve blinked and then said quickly, “Not like that. I believe you 100%.”

Tony looked at him for a moment, trying to suss out whether that was true. Rhodey was the only other person who really knew about Howard. Not even Pepper knew. And while that was partly because Tony didn’t like to talk about it, it was also because he’d never been sure if anyone else would believe him. Howard Stark had cultivated a party boy exterior that didn’t exactly scream ‘child abuse’.

But Steve was staring at him intently, and his hug was just as tight as before. Tony relaxed a little. “Anyway, most of the time he ignored it. My mom and Jarvis and Ana – Jarvis’s wife – raised me for the most part. When I was ten, Howard decided they were coddling me too much and that I needed to be toughened up. He arranged to have me sent to boarding school.”

“At ten?”

“That was pretty normal for rich kids,” Tony admitted. “But I was just too smart for my own good. I skipped grades and ended up with people who were four or five years older than me.” And that had resulted in Tony being bullied on a regular basis. Not a day went by without someone punching or pinching or kicking him, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. He wasn’t going to go into that with Steve, though. It was nothing unusual. Everyone had a story of being bullied, and that wasn’t what they were here to talk about.

Steve narrowed his eyes, like he knew there was more to the story he wasn’t being told, but he didn’t press. “Even if it’s normal, that still seems very young to me.”

“It was hard being away from Jarvis, but honestly it wasn’t that big of a deal,” Tony lied. “I was glad to get away from Howard. Most of the time he just ignored me unless he had to look good in front of the press. He spent a lot of time away from me too when we were kids, looking for you. As I got older, he drank more.” He fell quiet. Funny how when he was little he’d hated Howard’s trips north, but as he got older he’d wished Howard would spend more time up there.

“Can I ask…” Steve trailed off.

“You can ask questions. I’m not going to break if you say the wrong thing,” Tony said. Yet in spite of those brave words, he thought he might just break if Steve were to suddenly shove Tony off his lap. The only thing holding him together was the feel of Steve’s arms around him.

“That night you had a nightmare. The night when you wet the bed and JARVIS called me, what was your nightmare about?”

Tony flushed, embarrassed. That night seemed so far away now, but he could remember exactly how miserable and humiliated he’d felt when Steve walked into the room to find out that Tony had wet the bed like the baby he didn’t want to be. Then again, it was also the first night he’d called Steve ‘Daddy’, and it had definitely been a turning point in their relationship even though Tony hadn’t realized it at the time.

“It was about Howard,” he mumbled. “I was just a kid. I wanted to show him this little robot I’d built, and I didn’t know any better when it came to not disturbing him. I went down to his workshop. He got mad and slapped me and broke my robot.”

Steve stiffened, blue eyes flashing with anger. “And that other time, right before I gave you bath toys for the first time?”

Tony had to try to remember that one. “Um… I think I was probably dreaming about being told I was going to boarding school for the first time,” he said. That had been a fight to remember. One of the few times Maria had intervened. “Steve, really. Normally I don’t have nightmares about Howard. I’ve had way worse things happen to me that make for much better nightmares,” he added. “It’s just all this age play stuff that’s been bringing the memories back.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Steve muttered.

“It should. I like what we’re doing,” Tony said. Nightmares aside, this was the most relaxed he’d felt in years. He laid his head on Steve’s shoulder. He didn’t lift his thumb to his mouth yet, though the desire to do so was simmering dully in the back of his mind.

“I’m glad. I like it too.” Steve shifted, letting Tony curl into his body more easily, and sighed. “Thank you for telling me that, Tony. It means a lot to me that you would trust me that much.”

It meant a lot that Steve would listen, but Tony couldn’t bring himself to say that. Instead, he tucked his cold nose into Steve’s throat. “It’s really not that big of a deal, but you’re welcome. Just… you know… don’t repeat what I said to anyone else.”

“Of course not!” Steve said, sounding horrified at the idea, and that was why Tony loved him.

Oh.

Tony swallowed hard, shoving that thought out of his head. He wasn’t nearly ready to think about something that serious yet. He smiled weakly to cover up the fact that his heart had started to pound.

“Good,” he said hoarsely. “No one else knows except for Rhodey, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I won’t tell anyone, Tony, I promise.”

And damn it if Tony didn’t believe him. He closed his eyes. This talk probably hadn’t gone the way Steve had thought it would. Tony hadn’t cried once. He usually felt weirdly dispassionate about his childhood, as though it had happened to someone else, and it really only affected him when he had a nightmare, especially when he had a nightmare in his headspace.

Right now, he just felt kind of cold.

Steve, because of course he did, noticed. “Supper’s not ready yet,” he said, lips brushing against Tony’s temple. “Wanna go cuddle on the couch and watch a movie?”

Tony couldn’t think of anything that sounded better. “Please.”

In short time, Steve had them settled on the couch: curled up together under a huge fluffy blanket, Tony’s head pillowed comfortably on Steve’s chest. Steve switched on the television and turned it a hilariously inaccurate sci fi movie, which normally Tony would’ve mocked with relish while Steve rolled his eyes and groaned about just wanting to watch the show. Today they just watched in silence, Steve’s big hand shifting the tension out of him with every stroke of that warm palm against Tony’s hair.

Chapter Text

The feeling of being too hot was what dragged Steve out of a very pleasant dream. He opened his eyes, blinking away images of his mother, and saw that the bed beside him was empty. Immediately, he lurched into a seated position and looked around for Tony. His alarm spiked when he didn't see the baby. Tony had been right beside him when Steve had fallen asleep last night, tucked under Steve's arm. At some point during the night, Tony must've squirmed out of his hold and then slipped off the bed. A series of terrifying images flooded through Steve's brain and he quickly threw the covers back, jumping up.

"Tony?!" he called out, hearing the panic in his own voice as he rushed to the door. He was about to call for Tony again when he caught sight of the very man he was looking for. Relief broke through the panic and Steve paused in the doorway, taking a deep breath.

Tony was sitting on the living room couch, legs pulled up against his chest, sound asleep. Steve moved closer to him, wondering what Tony was doing up by himself. It made him miss the tower, where JARVIS watched over them and helped to be sure that this exact scenario didn't happen, and he also thought longingly of the crib in the nursery. He hadn't actually put Tony to bed in the crib yet, but suddenly Steve could see the value in putting your baby to sleep in a bed that had bars around it. At the very least, he'd rest assured knowing that if he put Tony in the crib, then Tony would have to stay in the crib until Steve came to lift him out.

"Tony," Steve said again, taking a seat on the couch. He wrapped an arm around Tony's shoulders and shook him gently.

"Mmm," Tony sighed, head lolling to the side. His beautiful eyes fluttered opened slowly; a shy smile crossed his face when he saw Steve, and he stretched his arms up for a hug that Steve gladly gave him.

"You scared me, silly boy," Steve murmured, rubbing his nose against Tony's cheek.

"Sorry. I couldn't sleep," Tony said through a yawn. "I was gonna... but then I saw..." He trailed off in a way that was uncharacteristic for Tony. Steve didn't understand why until he followed Tony's gaze and spotted his sketchbook laying on the coffee table. He'd brought it out last night while they watching a movie, intending to do a few sketches when the movie was over, but he'd been so tired that he hadn't bothered.

"My sketchbook?" Steve said, bemused. He reached over and picked it up, flipping through it idly. It was nearly full now, with only a handful of pages left. Ever since he and Tony had started age playing, he'd been blowing through pages three times as fast. He'd need to get himself another one before long, since it wasn't like his source of inspiration was going anywhere.

Tony flushed. "Curious," he mumbled.

"You were curious? Because you want to see?" Steve guessed, knowing he was right when Tony wouldn't meet his eyes. A fond smile crossed his face. Tony really was just too cute for words sometimes. He'd noticed that Tony was curious, which made sense for a scientist. But apparently Tony had forgotten that Steve had once given him permission to look through his sketchbook, and that he'd never rescinded that permission. There was nothing in the sketchbook that was private, at least not when it came to Tony. After all, the subject of all the pictures deserved to see them.

He leaned back against the couch, pulling Tony with him, until Tony was curled up against his side and they were both comfortable. Then Steve opened the sketchbook to the very first page. He figured that Tony would remember this one. Looking at the picture of Tony now with more experienced eyes, Steve could see where he'd made some mistakes. That was the case for the first dozen pictures in the book, because all of them had been drawn from fantasy. It wasn't until he and Tony had actually started age playing that Steve had figured out how to truly capture baby Tony on paper. Even now, his work wasn't perfect. But he thought he was starting to get a little closer.

He flipped forward a few pages until he came across one of his favorite memories. It was the first time he and Tony had willingly age played together. Thinking back on it now, Steve cringed a little when he remembered how awkward he'd felt. He'd been so unsure, always worried that he was going to do or say something wrong, not knowing that all Tony truly needed and craved was love. But he'd done his best, and that was reflected in the picture: Steve holding Tony on his hip, handing Tony a brand new teddy bear. If he did say so himself, he'd perfectly captured the uncertain but needy expression on Tony's face.

Tony touched the page with a careful finger. "I remember that."

"I do too. You told me that Howard said you were too old for stuffed animals."

"He did say that," Tony said absently. "Loads of times." He carefully turned the page, eyes widening when he saw the next sketch. It was of Tony in the bathtub. There was no guessing which night that was from. Tony blushed and quickly turned the page.

Steve held his tongue, settling back and watching as Tony slowly flipped through the sketchbook. He could see errors on each page, but overall Steve was proud of his work. This sketchbook was like a photo album of their first few months age playing together. He'd done what he could to sketch out the scenes that meant the most to him. Sometimes the sketches were detailed. A few were even colored. But most of them were just light sketches, drawn while Tony was napping or when Steve had a rare moment of downtime. So long as he achieved what was most important - i.e., Tony - he didn't care so much for the smaller details.

He lost track of where Tony was in the sketchbook, instead devoting his time to watching Tony. The tiny smiles that the sketchbook coaxed out of Tony were infinitely priceless. Steve had never really asked if Tony was okay with him immortalizing their moments together in his sketchbook; they'd need to have that chat later, he decided, but not right now. Tony was more relaxed now than he had been for days, as though their chat about Howard last night had popped some of the tension. Idly, Steve wondered if he could convince Tony to go ice skating later.

Suddenly, Tony stopped and said, "I don't remember this."

"What?" Steve turned back to the sketchbook. A grin crossed his face when he saw the sketch. It was of Tony, dressed only in a diaper, sitting on the floor. There was a kitten curled up in Tony's lap. Two more kittens were sprawled across his right leg. A puppy was draped across his leg leg. Three more puppies were jumping up on Tony's back, trying to get his attention. It was a colored picture, so the animals stood out in bright colors.

"Unless I was unconscious, this never happened," Tony said, tapping the sketch and raising an eyebrow.

"No, it didn't. Not everything in here came from memory. Some of it is what I'd like to see happen, or what I think would be cute," Steve said. "Like this." He took the sketchbook and flipped to another page closer to the back. This was the sketch that had inspired him to make their weekend away a reality. It depicted Tony in a puffy snowsuit, arms and legs spread wide, laying down in a snowbank and trying to make a snow angel. Tony snorted when he saw the sketch, but his mouth still twitched into a smile.

"You have quite the fantasy," he observed. "Why are these all of me?"

"I care about you. You're the most important thing in the world to me," Steve said automatically. He saw another blush crawl over Tony's face, but decided not to call attention to it. Instead, he flipped to the next picture. Tony let out a quiet gasp.

This sketch was far and above Steve's favorite. He'd worked on it for hours, easily surpassing the time he'd spent on dozens of other sketches put together. And that was because this sketch was not just Tony. It also featured Sarah Rogers and Bucky Barnes, and Steve had found them both very difficult to get just right. It was easy to draw Tony because Steve had the real thing right in front of him. But his mom? In the eighty plus years since Steve had last seen her, his memory had dulled. Had her hair been the exact shade of his? What about her eyes? Had she always had a crooked smile? Had she really been tall, or was that just his brain playing tricks on him because he'd been so damn short? With no pictures of her, those were questions Steve couldn't answer. So he'd wrestled with that part of the sketch, erasing and re-drawing, until it was as close to the image in his mind as he could get.

Bucky had been a little easier, if only because Steve had found a couple of reference pictures to work from. Well, actually JARVIS had found them for him. Steve hadn't even known they existed until one night when he'd been wondering out loud whether Bucky's eyes had been blue or grey - and cursing himself for not being able to remember - and JARVIS had offered to locate pictures. Now, the pictures had been in black and white, so they weren't overly helpful when it came to the color issue. But just being able to see Bucky's familiar face had meant everything. At least with Bucky, Steve knew his memory hadn't failed him.

The scene he'd depicted was one that he knew would never happen, but which he liked to think about anyway. It showed Tony wearing a diaper and pajamas, yawning. Sarah was sitting in the rocking chair with Tony on her lap, wearing her nurse's outfit as though she'd just gotten home from work. The expression of intense love on her face was burned into Steve's memory; that, at least, he'd found easy. Bucky was depicted with a bottle of milk in his right hand, crouching down beside the chair and holding it up, free hand on Tony's knee. It was a cheerful, loving sketch that Steve held in his heart.

"That's your mommy," Tony whispered, sounding stunned. "And... Bucky."

"Yeah, it is," Steve said with a sad smile. "I don't have any pictures of my mom. I had to draw her from memory. But JARVIS found me a couple pictures of Bucky. He would've loved you, Tony. The two of you would've been little shits together and driven me crazy."

Tony let out a soft giggle, then bit his lip. "But... why did you draw this?"

"Because I want it to happen. I wish that it could."

"You want me to meet your family?" Tony's eyes were wide.

"Of course I do. My mother would've adored you. She would've been completely on board with our age playing, too." Steve smiled. "Same goes for Bucky, I think. He'd never admit it, but he was just as bad at being a mother hen as I am now. He was always hovering and fussing over me." He laughed a little. "God, he would've been all over you. I probably never would've had a chance."

Tony was quiet for a moment. Slowly, the look of surprised faded into something wistful. "I wish I could meet them. Your mom is so pretty." His finger hovered over Sarah's face, like he was afraid to touch.

"She was. She was beautiful," Steve said. "I miss her a lot. Drawing this picture helped a lot, actually. I never realized that I was afraid of forgetting her until I'd proved to myself that I hadn't." He sighed. "I have another book at home, actually. It's filled with sketches of just her. I'll show it to you some time."

"I'd like that," Tony whispered, cuddling into Steve. Steve automatically hugged him tighter and rested his head on top of Tony's, idly thinking of other sketches he might do someday. His mom singing Tony to sleep. Bucky giving Tony a piggyback ride. All four of them having supper together. They were good thoughts because the usual sense of melancholy that came over him when he thought about his pat wasn't present. For the first time, with Tony's warm presence at his side, thoughts of his mom and Bucky were more sweet than bitter.

Chapter Text

A gust of cold wintery air hit Steve in the face when he opened door that day, bringing with it the scent of pine needles and freshly fallen snow. It had obviously snowed quite a bit overnight, as he could barely see where he and Tony had been walking around yesterday. He stepped out onto the porch and smiled to himself as the snow crunched underfoot. That wasn’t a sound you got to hear in New York very often.

He paced to the end of the porch and peered around the house, half-thinking that his plan for the day might’ve been derailed by the snow – or at least delayed while Steve got a shovel and cleared the pond of snow. But instead, he found that the pond had already been cleared off. Huge clumps of snow had been recently piled around the edges, and he could only assume that Pepper had thought they might want to skate and had paid someone to keep the pond clear while they were up here.

Steve scanned the horizon, looking for any signs of that someone, but didn’t see anything. There was a thin dusting of snow on the ice, which suggested that whoever it was had come and gone very early in the morning, but he didn’t think that would matter for skating. Pleased, he ducked back into the house and found Tony sitting where Steve had left him: on the floor, trying and failing to pull his mitts on.

“Here, let me help,” Steve said, crouching down. He finished getting Tony dressed, finding it a little easier today than it had been yesterday, and grabbed their skates. He slung them over his shoulder and then scooped Tony up, playfully tossing the baby over his opposite shoulder. Tony squealed with laughter, slapping at Steve’s back as Steve carried him outside.

It was colder out today than it had been yesterday. Steve wrinkled his nose, feeling the wind biting at his cheeks. He’d have to be careful of how long he kept Tony in today. As he made his way to the pond, still carrying Tony, he decided that they’d skate for a while, then go in and have lunch. Then Tony could have a nap, and then they’d come back out in snow. He’d noticed Tony testing the snow yesterday, trying unsuccessfully to make a ball. That snow had been soft and fluffy, but the newly fallen snow had a wet crunch to it that suggested it would be far better for building snowmen.

Upon reaching the edge of the pond, Steve spied a wooden table and bench that had also been cleared off. He set Tony down on the bench and knelt to pull one of the baby’s boots off, quickly replacing it with a skate. The skate seemed oddly stiff as he slid it on to Tony’s foot, but Tony didn’t complain. Steve flicked it with his nail, wondering if it was supposed to be like that or if it was just the cold.

“They’re always stiff,” Tony said, as though reading Steve’s mind. “Have to be to give your ankles support.”

“Oh,” Steve said. He guessed that made sense. He’d never been skating before – not properly, anyway. He and Bucky used to go watch, but they’d never been able to afford to rent skates. And typically, people chased them away for trying to skate around in their old shoes. He could’ve afforded it easily after coming out of the ice, but somehow the thought of skating around on yet more ice hadn’t appealed to him.

He still wasn’t sure about it.

He finished lacing up Tony’s skates, then pulled on his own. When he stood, he wobbled alarmingly. It was harder to balance on the thin blades than he’d expected. He had the feeling that, if it weren’t for his enhanced senses and abilities, he’d be on his ass right now. As it was, he couldn’t help eyeing Tony’s steadier shuffle enviously. Skating was obviously something that Tony had experience with.

“You skated a lot as a kid?” Steve asked. Tony wasn’t too far in his headspace right now, and seemed like he was in no rush to sink any deeper, so he figured questions like this were okay.

“I wouldn’t say a lot. Ana liked to skate. She would take me, and Jarvis would watch from the sidelines while she pulled me around the rink. When we were done, we were usually soaked and freezing. He’d fuss over us and feed us hot chocolate.” Tony smiled at the memory. “Sometimes Mom would come too, but she was a lot more graceful on the ice than Ana or me.”

“And Jarvis?” Steve said.

“Jarvis couldn’t skate. He was one of those people who spent more time on his butt than on his feet.” They’d reached the edge of the pond, where snow gave way to ice. Steve eyed it, his heart thumping uncomfortably. Surely the ice was thick enough that it wouldn’t give away? Someone had already been on it to clear it off, and they’d come out fine…

“What about Howard?” he asked, tearing his eyes away and making himself look at Tony instead. He didn’t actually care, but he needed to hear Tony’s voice.

Tony looked back at him and held out a mittened hand for Steve to take. He seemed to be more comfortable talking about Howard now, saying, “Howard was always too busy to come with us. But even if he had, I don’t think he would’ve enjoyed it. He was never that big into sports, mostly because he didn’t like doing anything that he wasn’t immediately awesome at.”

That sounded like Howard, actually. Steve took the offered hand and squeezed it tightly. It was cowardly of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to be the one who took the first step out onto the ice. He tried to console himself by thinking that, if one of them fell through the ice, Steve would have a much easier time getting Tony out than Tony would pulling him out, but it wasn’t working. It was pathetic. He was ashamed of himself.

“Tony, wait,” he began.

It was too late. Tony stepped fearlessly out onto the ice, widening his stance and bracing himself. Steve held his breath, frozen, waiting for the ice to crack and Tony to go plunging through into the icy water below. Because it ?would be icy, Steve knew. He didn’t remember a lot about taking the plane down, but that slow, creeping chill that sank into his very bones? He couldn’t forget that no matter how much he wanted to.

“Steve, Daddy, look at me.” Tony’s voice was calm, and he squeezed Steve’s hand tightly enough that Steve could feel it even through their fat mittens. “I’m right here. I’m okay. This ice is solid. See?” Tony tapped one of his skates against the ice. “JARVIS is careful about this kind of stuff. I checked this morning; he would’ve told me if the ice wasn’t safe. But they’ve had a cold enough winter up here that it’s frozen through.”

Steve exhaled shakily. There was a roaring in his ears. “Okay.”

“Are you sure about this? We don’t have to skate,” Tony said.

“I want to,” Steve said. Now that he actually had to step out onto the pond, he was no longer sure that was true. His heart was beating so fast he was lightheaded.

Tony cocked his head. “Why don’t you sit? Let me show off for you a little. I’ve never had a daddy who would sit and watch me before.” His smile was unexpectedly shy, paired with a bashful flutter of his lashes and lowering of his eyes that actually made Steve focus on him instead of the ice.

Sit and watch. Steve could do that. He still wasn’t completely comfortable with letting Tony go out on the ice, but Tony was looking so hopeful that Steve couldn’t say no. He nodded. “Okay, baby. I’ll sit and watch you for as long as you want me to,” he breathed.

Letting go of Tony’s hand was hard, but Steve did it. He backed up a foot or so until he could sit on the bench. Tony started off slow, making a loop around the pond and watching the ice intently. It really wasn’t that big of a pond, Steve realized, only taking Tony a couple of minutes to come back around. He estimated that it was maybe the size of his bedroom back at the tower. Knowing that Tony was never really out of reach helped.

He watched as Tony did three more loops. It was obvious that Tony had experience with skating, even if he hadn’t done it for a while. He was much more confident than Steve would’ve been, even going so far as to do a little spin. The proud look on Tony’s face when he glanced over and saw Steve, and realized that Steve really had been watching, made Steve’s heart swell, washing away some of the panic. Tony deserved to have someone pay attention to him, and Steve would gladly watch for as long as he could.

As time went on his fingers started to get cold; Steve flexed them absently, wondering how long they’d been out here. His ass had gone numb from the chill of the bench. Tony was skating out patterns on the ice, wobbling every now and again but always catching his attention with a determined pout. He was thinking about calling Tony in for some lunch when it happened.

Tony yelped as he went down, hitting the ice with a dull thud. Steve leaped to his feet and almost toppled over himself. He regained his balance quickly and hurried forward. This time, he hesitated only a bit before cautiously setting a foot down on the ice. It didn’t break beneath him the way he thought it might. Still, his hands were shaking as he set his second foot down on the ice and started trying to awkwardly make his way over to Tony.

“Tony,” he said breathlessly, fear making it hard for his lungs to function. The ice hadn’t broken around Tony, thank god.

“Ugh, that sucked,” Tony complained, rolling over. There were tears in his eyes, but he wasn’t crying. He sat up and blinked, as though trying to comprehend the sight of Steve inching towards him, before exclaiming, “Steve, look out! The ice is pitted –”

No sooner had the words come out of Tony’s mouth than Steve felt his right food gliding over a suddenly uneasy surface and he slipped. His arms pinwheeled for a few seconds as he sought to regain his balance, but no amount of supersoldier grace was going to help a lack of experience with ice. Both feet went out from under him and he landed on his ass hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

“Steve!” Tony cried again, looking more upset over Steve’s fall than over his own. He clambered into Steve’s lap and patted clumsily at Steve’s face.

“I’m – I’m okay,” Steve said, a little more dazed than he wanted to admit. He looked down at the ice, half-expecting to see that it had cracked under the weight of two falls, but it looked normal enough.

Still, he’d had enough of skating today. He caught Tony’s wrists and gently stopped the check-up, looking into Tony’s flushed, worried face. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward and planting a kiss on Tony’s nose. Tony reared back, looking somewhere between shocked and indignant, which just made Steve want to do it again. Instead, he gave Tony a smile.

“Do you think we could give up on the skating?” he asked.

“Of course,” Tony said immediately, sliding off Steve’s lap. He stood without too much effort, making it look unfairly easy. Steve discovered that it wasn’t when he tried to get up and couldn’t. He finally settled for scuttling awkwardly towards the snow on his hands and knees, while Tony tried valiantly not to laugh behind him.

“I don’t think skating is my thing,” Steve said, grateful when his mittens touched snow. Swinging around, he began untying his skates quickly. Tony would need help taking off his skates.

“You can’t be good at everything,” Tony said, a note of warm teasing in his voice. When Steve had his skates off, he sat down in Steve’s lap again. “Are you okay?”

Steve thought about it rather than give the automatic answer that sprang to his lips, because it was an honest question and deserved a honest answer. Finally, he admitted, “Not as much as I’d like to be. The ice affected me more than I expected. I’m probably never going to be okay with frozen ponds or lakes. Maybe if we were skating at an actual rink, but this…” He waved a hand. “It just brings back too many bad memories.”

“That’s okay,” Tony said softly. “Do you want to go have something to eat?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, momentarily overwhelmed with how much he loved this amazing, understanding man. “That sounds good.”

Chapter Text

They had to be here somewhere.

Tony pursed his lips and set his hands on his hips, surveying the closet. He distinctly remembered the last time he'd come up to this cabin had been with Pepper and three dozen Stark Industries employees who had won some kind of contest. The trip had been a prize. He was almost positive that Pepper had purchased some winter clothing and sent them down ahead of time, but in the end they hadn't been necessary because of unseasonably warm weather. That meant the box of winter clothing had been shoved aside somewhere, and probably forgotten during the trip to New York.

"I wish JARVIS was here," Tony muttered, going up on his tiptoes to see into the back of the closet. Having JARVIS in the tower meant that he never lost anything because JARVIS could always call up video footage to see what Tony had done with whatever he was looking for. It would be really nice right now if he could ask JARVIS where the box was.

Since that wasn't an option, Tony got down on his hands and knees and crawled into the space. This was one of those old-fashioned style closets that got smaller the further back it went, until it finally narrowed into a space that a ten-year-old kid would be hard-pressed to fit into. Using the light from his phone and the arc reactor as a guide, Tony squeezed himself as far back as he could and felt around for a box. His fingers brushed a sharp corner of what definitely felt like cardboard and a victorious smile spread across his face. Victory! He sucked in his gut and reached just a little more, until he could get enough of a grasp to drag it an inch or two closer. He knocked the top off and plunged a hand inside to feel wool and cotton.

"Yes," he hissed, immensely pleased, and tried to move backwards. Nothing happened. Tony blinked for a moment, then tried to wiggle his shoulders. They wouldn't move. He was wedged in, he realized with a flash of panic.

It was telling that the first thought that went through his mind was pure relief that they weren't at the tower. If Clint found out about this, Tony would never hear the end of it. Tony sighed and thought for a moment. Obviously he'd pushed a little further than he should've while trying to reach the box. He would've been better off to have gone and found something like a broom to bring the box closer, but hindsight was 20/20 and all that. It was too late for that now.

He tried getting his feet under him, but his feet kept slipping in the socks that Steve had insisted he wear. Then he tried shifting his right side forward in the hopes he could turn just enough to get himself free, but that didn't work either. The paint on the walls, if they were even painted this deep, was unexpectedly rough and had caught at the fabric of the t-shirt he was wearing. He thought about ripping the t-shirt off - an extra couple of centimeters could make all the difference - but he couldn't bring his hands up far enough to reach the collar of his shirt.

As it set in that he was well and truly stuck, Tony swallowed hard. "Steve?" he called out, trying to look over his shoulder. It was pretty dark behind him, because the light from the room didn't reach very far into the closet. "Steve!"

He waited for a few minutes, but there was no sound. Certainly nothing to indicate that a supersoldier was on the way to save him. Tony ground his teeth together in frustration. He'd left Steve sleeping in bed, wanting to surprise him with the box of clothing. It was a sound plan, except he hadn't thought that he would get stuck - and he hadn't accounted for the fact that. when he was really tired, Steve could sleep through just about anything. And after the whole skating disaster, Steve had definitely been tired. He'd barely stayed awake through dinner and the couple of movies they'd decided to watch.

Okay. Tony took a deep breath, trying to control his mounting panic. He was way too close to his headspace right now to think rationally. Even though he knew there had to be a logical way out of this mess, and that he was Tony Stark and should not be afraid of a little inconvenience like this, all he could think about was that he was going to be stuck here for hours, or at least until Steve woke up and came looking for him. There was no way he could handle that. If he could just stop panicking, he'd be able to get out. He'd be able to convince himself that those weird shapes behind him were just empty hangers, not something that was potentially a lot scarier. But that was asking for too much. He shuddered and that hurt, his skin rubbing against the wall, and broke.

"DADDY!"

Something crashed deep inside the house. The next thing Tony heard was the sound of running feet. Steve was definitely awake now and calling his name. Tears welled up in Tony's eyes; he was so grateful to hear the sound of Steve's voice that, for a moment, he couldn't bring himself to speak.

"Tony! Tony, where are you?" Steve shouted.

"Daddy!" Tony cried again. "Daddy, help me! I'm stuck!"

"Tony, where - Tony?" Steve cut himself off as he rushed into the bedroom. "Baby?"

"I'm in the closet," Tony sobbed. "Help me!"

"In the... oh, Tony." Suddenly there was light shining on his back. Tony started to struggle again, but whimpered when the skin on his shoulders rubbed roughly.

"Daddy!" he cried.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm right here and I'm going to get you out," Steve said soothingly. He tried to move closer, but he was a lot broader in the shoulders than Tony and couldn't squeeze very far into the back of the closet. Tony's breathing sped up. He was going to be trapped here!

"No, Daddy, don't leave me!" he wailed when he realized Steve was backing up.

"I'm not leaving you, sweetie. I just need a better angle. I'm right here!" Steve called out. "I'm here, Tony. I'm going to save you. Just sit tight, okay?"

Sit tight? Where was Tony going to go?

He sat there, frozen, struggling to hear anything over the sound of his pounding heart and hitched sobs. He jumped when he heard a cracking sound coming from right in front of him. At first he thought it might be a rat, which was crazy. Pepper couldn't stand rats, and would have made sure that any Stark-owned property was regularly checked for vermin. He definitely wasn't expecting for the wall to crumble to pieces right in front of him as Steve punched a hole in it. Tony stared in shock as Steve's hand gripped the right side of the wall and firmly broke the gyprock, yanking it apart in huge chunks.

Suddenly, Tony was free. But he barely had time to appreciate it before Steve was scooping him up into a big hug. Tony threw his arms around his savior, crying quietly. Steve hushed him, running a hand over Tony's hair and clothing to remove the dust. Then he hugged Tony tightly and rocked him and forth. It took a little time before Tony could calm down, and only then did Steve speak.

"Baby, what were you doing in there?" he asked.

"I - I w-wanted -" Tony stuttered out, choking on dust and sobs. "My b-box."

"Your box?" Steve repeated, puzzled. He must've seen what Tony was after because he freed an arm to reach into what used to be the back of the closet and drag the box out. Tony lifted his head just in time to see the confused look on Steve's face. No doubt he was wondering what Tony Stark wanted with a bunch of musty old clothing that had been stored in a closet for years.

Tony rubbed at his eyes. "It's for snowmen," he admitted.

"For... snowmen?" If anything, Steve's confusion only deepened. He looked from Tony to the box and back again.

"Yeah. You're supposed to put clothing on snowmen when you're all done. To dress them," Tony explained. Steve hadn't enjoyed skating at all. In retrospect, trying to take Steve out onto what was essentially freezing cold water with a thin layer of ice on top wasn't the smartest idea. He thought that they would have better luck when they were back in New York, either at a rink or at Rockefeller Center. Some place where Steve knew he was safe and that no one was at risk of drowning.

That was why he'd wanted to make the most out of building snowmen. It seemed like a simple, childish activity, but sometimes those were the things that Steve enjoyed the most by far. Tony had specifically asked JARVIS to make sure there were plenty of fresh carrots in the refrigerator (a fact that Steve had remarked on when he was preparing the roast the first day they were here) and even some round, black buttons that were as dark as coal. And there may even have been a top hat or two laying around somewhere, just for tradition's sake. He'd just wanted the scarves and mitts to round out the experience.

Steve blinked at him. "Tony... why didn't you wait for me? I could've helped you."

"Wanted to surprise you," Tony muttered, looking down at the floor. Getting a box of old clothing out of a closet shouldn't have been that difficult. He looked up at the wall. The closet from the other bedroom ran along the back of the one they were sitting in. Steve had punched a hole clear through, then torn enough of the gyprock apart that there was a huge gap. He'd have to get JARVIS to bring some contractors in to fix the damage after they leave - and maybe, while the contractors were at it, get them to block up the back of that closet. There was no need for it to be that deep.

"You wanted to surprise me?" Steve repeated. His face softened. "You silly thing." He hugged Tony again. Tony winced a little as the skin on his shoulders chafed uncomfortably. Steve caught the motion and frowned, tugging down the collar of Tony's shirt. At the sight of the raw, irritated scratches, Steve's frown deepened.

"It's okay," Tony said half-heartedly.

Steve just shook his head. "Come on. I think you need a bath, and then I'm going to rub some cream on your shoulders. I don't want that getting infected." He stood up, bringing Tony with him.

"My box!" Tony exclaimed.

"Right, right." Steve half-crouched, scooping up the box with his opposite hand. He tucked it under his arm and carried both the box and Tony out of the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. Tony shivered as they walked back into the living, only just realizing how chilly it had been in the back bedrooms. He and Steve hadn't bothered turning on the heat back there, since they weren't planning on using those rooms.

"Thank you," Tony said in a tiny voice.

"It's no problem. But look at you, you're shivering," Steve said. "Bathtub right now." He dropped the box on the couch and kept walking, taking Tony into the bathroom. The bathtub wasn't nearly as large as the one Tony had back in the tower, but right then he wasn't particularly inclined to complain. He curled in closer to Steve as Steve dumped in some bubble bath and then let the tub slowly fill with hot water and bubbles. Steve absently gave him a squeeze and a kiss on the forehead.

Chapter Text

They didn’t actually get around to make snowmen until their last day at the cabin. Fresh snow had fallen overnight, leaving them new material to work with. As he walked outside, Steve crouched and experimentally packed a handful of snow into a ball. It came together easily and stayed that way. He smiled appreciatively. They couldn’t have had better snow for making snowmen if they’d asked for it.

Tony toddled past him, shuffled down the steps and out onto what counted as the cabin’s massive lawn. He walked back and forth, then paused. “Right here, Daddy!” he called out, pointing. “I wanna make a huge snowman right here!”

“A huge snowman, huh?” Steve said, amused. Tony had shown him the animated cartoon of a snowman that came to life last night. Now he understood why Tony had gotten himself stuck trying to reach the box of clothing; in the movie, Frosty had sported a top hat, scarf, and pipe, with coal for eyes and a carrot for a nose. He thought it was adorable that Tony was so determined to make the perfect Frosty.

He crunched through the snow to join the baby, watching as Tony stooped down to make a ball. “I’ll make the head,” Tony said, patting the snow. “You make the body.”

A huge body. Well, Steve could do that. He made another snowball and then set it on the ground, rolling it around. It slowly collected snow and grew. He wasn’t sure how big ‘huge’ was supposed to be. But, remembering the size of the snowmen he’d seen kids making back in New York, he aimed for a ball of snow that was about twice the size. He kept pushing it around until he deemed it a good size, eventually rolling it back to sit in front of Tony. It came to about Tony’s waist by that point.

Tony’s eyes popped. “Wow,” he whispered. A grin split his face. “Now the middle!”

“Okay,” Steve said. It was really kind of amazing just how easy it was to please Tony in his headspace – or maybe it wasn’t. He thought about that as he rolled his second snowball. From day one, the team had learned that what touched Tony Stark the deepest was any scrap of care or consideration. Looked at it from that perspective, chances were Tony didn’t actually care that much about making Frosty; it was more about the fact that Steve was taking the time to be here with him doing it.

That was all Tony ever wanted in the end: someone who cared enough to show that they cared. He had to wonder when Tony had last played in the snow with someone. It had probably been a long time. Maybe even since Tony was a kid. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing a scared ten-year-old who was shipped off to boarding school would do, so with Jarvis? Or Peggy?

“I’m ready!”

Steve jerked, realizing he’d let his thoughts wander, and turned back to Tony to find that Tony had finished the head. He stopped and bent, wrapping his arms awkwardly around the middle of the snowman before carrying it back. He set it down on top of the biggest snowball with a huff, suddenly understanding why those kids had been making much smaller snowmen. Snow was unexpectedly heavy.

The balls had gotten big enough that Steve had to go up on the tips of his toes to put the head on. Tony beamed at the sight of it, scooping up handfuls of snow and patting them into place to keep the head and middle on. Then he ran back to the porch and grabbed a hat, scarf, mitts, carrot and seven buttons. He brought them back and looked very seriously at Steve.

“We need sticks,” he said.

“Sticks?” Steve echoed.

“For his hands!”

“Of course. Sticks.” Steve looked around. Everything was covered in snow, so there were no sticks on the ground. He finally went over to a pine tree and, after examining it to see what branches looked the most similar to Frosty’s, broke off two small branches.

Tony had been busy while Steve was getting the sticks, carefully pressing the buttons into the front of the snowman’s body. His expression was completely focused, as though he was working on the armor or Dummy instead of a snowman. Steve had to bite his lip to hold back a smile. He stood back and waited until Tony had finished, then moved closer and offered up the branches for inspection.

A big smile was his reward. “Perfect!” Tony said, clapping his hands. Because he was wearing mitts, he barely made a sound. “Put them on, Daddy!”

“Okay, baby,” Steve said with a chuckle, pressing the branches into the side of the body. He had to be careful not to press too hard, less the snow split apart, but finally he had them wedged in far enough that a breeze wouldn’t move them. He stepped back and looked at Tony, only to find that Tony was holding the carrot, two more buttons, the scarf and the top hat. Steve started to reach for them, but Tony twisted away and held the items out of his reach.

“No, me!” he said.

“Tony, I don’t think you’re tall enough to put those on,” Steve said. That earned him an epic pout, and Steve had to swallow another laugh.

“No, Daddy!” Tony said. “Pick me up!”

“Oh, you want me to pick you up. I see.” Grinning, Steve stepped behind him and crouched down. Gently grabbing Tony around the waist, he pulled Tony backwards and slotted his head between Tony’s thighs at the same time until Tony’s knees bent, putting him in a seated position. Resting his hands on Tony’s calves, Steve slowly straightened up. Tony let out a delighted squeal as he came to sit on Steve’s shoulders, putting him within easy reach of the snowman’s upper body and head.

“There you go, sweetie,” Steve said, taking a careful step closer to the snowman. Tony’s weight felt like nothing on his shoulders; he really needed to make Tony eat more.

Very carefully, Tony reached up and stuck the two buttons and then the carrot into the front of the snowman’s face. He wiggled the carrot until it sat just so, then wrapped a red scarf around the snowman’s neck. He spent several seconds adjusting the scarf before he topped off the snowman with the hat, setting it at a jaunty angle. Steve looked up at their Frosty lookalike and suddenly realized that the top hat Tony had picked out was covered in gold sparkles. That, plus the red scarf, made their snowman look a lot more like Iron Man than Frosty.

Resolving to take a picture before they went back to New York, Steve said, “Now, how about some mitts for his hands? We don’t want Frosty to get cold.”

“Red mitts?” Tony asked, his own mitts now loosely holding onto Steve’s head. He didn’t seem terribly concerned about holding on even though he was a few feet off the ground. Steve tightened his grip just a tiny bit; the last thing they needed was Tony slipping from his shoulders and hurting himself in the fall.

Carefully, Steve made his way back to the porch and picked two red mitts out of the box. They didn’t match, but he suspected Tony wouldn’t care. He passed the mitts up over his head and walked back to the snowman, stepping close so that Tony could work the mitts over the end of the sticks. When he was finished, Steve stepped back and they both looked admiringly at their work.

Then Tony said a terrifying word: “Again.”

Three hours later, Steve’s lower backed ached in a way that didn’t typically happen unless he’d been fighting Hydra. Walking around on snow was much more difficult than he’d anticipated. His feet kept slipping; he’d nearly ended up on his ass three separate times after his foot made impact with a hidden patch of ice. And his fingers had gone numb, the wet mitts he was wearing no longer offering protection from the snow. Snow had somehow gotten into his boots, leaving his socks wet and his toes equally numb, and he was having trouble fighting off a series of shivers.

But they’d made half a dozen snowmen, each decorated with their own color scheme. Looking them over now, he suspected that Tony had built the Avengers in snowman form. The one that looked like Thor even had a hammer at its feet, scuplted from snow. The Captain America one had a large, rounded piece of ice leaning up against its body. He watched as Tony carefully sculpted a bow and set it against the Hawkeye snowman.

“They look great, Tony,” Steve said. “But I think it’s time to go in now.”

“No. I want to make a Coulson one,” Tony said, not even looking up from where he was forming a gun. Steve stared at him in exasperation. How was Tony not cold yet? He was no supersoldier, and so didn’t even have a heightened core temperature like Steve did. The only explanation was that Tony was so intent on his work that he hadn’t noticed the chill, which was actually entirely likely. Tony did tend to get tunnel vision when he was working on something, and that meant he wouldn’t stop until Steve made him.

He shuffled over to Tony and wrapped his arms around the baby. “Come on, honey. You must be tired. Why don’t we go in?” he said.

“Nooooo,” Tony said, dragging the word out, but he was leaning into Steve and Steve took that as a sign. He scooped Tony up, ignoring the startled squeal, and playfully tossed Tony over his shoulder. Tony let out a huff of surprise, his boots thumping against Steve’s midsection.

“Yesss,” Steve said, moving back towards the cabin. Tony didn’t kick up a fuss, and Steve figured that meant he was pretty tired.

He climbed the stairs and opened the door, letting out a sigh of relief as they stepped into the warmth of the cabin. His fingers and toes began to tingle immediately. He flexed them absently as he set Tony down, quickly stripping off both of their wet clothing. The snow had soaked through to the sweater and jeans they were wearing, so he pulled those off too.

Tony was shivering now, so Steve picked him back up and carried him through to the bedroom. He changed Tony’s diaper and then got him dressed in a fuzzy blue onesie. He pulled a t-shirt and sweatpants on for himself and relocated to the living room, where it was definitely warmer thanks to the fireplace pumping out heat. He sat down on the couch with a blanket, pulling it over the both of them.

“Cold, Daddy,” Tony mumbled, sounding more sleepy than anything. They’d had an afternoon full of exertion, so Steve wasn’t surprised. He glanced at the time and figured there was enough time for Tony to get in a nap before dinner, so he settled back against the cushions and pulled Tony more securely against him. Tony curled up between Steve’s spread legs, head resting on Steve’s chest and eyelashes slowly fluttering.

“Go to sleep, baby boy,” Steve whispered, tucking the blanket up higher around Tony’s shoulders, until the bottom of the soft fabric brushed Tony’s chin. He grabbed the remote and turned the television on quietly, one hand idly rubbing up and down Tony’s back. It didn’t take long before Tony relaxed against him completely, falling asleep.

Chapter Text

On the morning they were due to leave the cabin, Tony woke up to find that the bed beside him was empty. He patted at the sheets for several seconds before sadly acknowledging that Steve had already gotten up and that he was alone. Pouting, he rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. As annoying as it was to be deprived of early morning cuddles, he was well aware of why Steve had done it.

Tony had spent the better part of the past four days in his headspace, or bordering on the cusp of it. Being around Steve made it easy to sink into his headspace; conversely, sometimes being around Steve made it really hard to come back out. They were headed back today, which meant Tony needed to be completely big. Steve was giving him the space Tony needed to make them happen.

He was really lucky to have such a sweet boyfriend, Tony thought. Yesterday afternoon they'd gone sledding again. Tony had enjoyed himself immensely. After supper, they'd finished the night off watching old movies - well, old for Tony anyway. Most of those movies had been new to Steve, which just meant that Tony got the chance to see Steve's adorable reaction to the Genie being freed, not to mention his hilarious reaction to Yzma.

"Tony?" The door opened and Steve poked his head in. "Are you awake?"

"No," Tony said.

Steve chuckled. "We have to be down the mountain in three hours. I've already got everything packed up. Why don't you take a quick shower and then come join me for breakfast?"

"Yeah, I can do that," Tony said with a sigh. Their quiet, peaceful weekend was well and truly over. Frankly, he was kind of shocked that it hadn't been interrupted by an Avengers call or an emergency at Stark Industries. Pepper must've been truly committed to making sure they had their time away, and Tony appreciated her for it.

He watched as Steve left and listened to the sound of footsteps receding down the hallway. Reluctantly, he pushed the covers aside and rolled out of the bed. His diaper squelched around him and he made a disgusted face, moving quickly into the bathroom to remove it. He dumped it in the garbage - they'd have to make sure to take that with them to be disposed of - and switched the shower on.

After a quick shower, Tony emerged in a cloud of steam and hauled on the jeans and sweatshirt that Steve had left out for him. He took the time to shave and trim up his goatee, which was looking a little raggedy thanks to a lack of attention over the past few days, and do his hair since it was possible that there were be some journalists around when they landed. When he was finished, a slightly less polished of businessman and superhero Tony Stark looked back at him in the mirror.

It was time to go back to the real world.

Humming quietly, he shuffled back out to the bedroom and switched his phone on. But he didn't look at the messages, instead stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans. Whatever had happened over the weekend could wait another three hours. He wanted to get as much out of this weekend as he could, and disappearing into work wasn't the way to do that. A good breakfast with his boyfriend, on the other hand, sounded like an excellent way to do that.

"Hey," Steve said when Tony finally entered the kitchen. "I was wondering if you'd drowned in there."

"That was a quick shower!" Tony said.

Steve smiled. "I'm not sure anyone would quantify thirty minutes as quick, baby," he teased, wrapping an arm around Tony's waist and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"You're so mean to me," Tony mumbled, forcing a pout onto his face to cover up the smile that wanted to break free.

"Would a mean boyfriend slash daddy make you a great breakfast?"

"Maybe, if he was trying to butter me up," Tony said.

"You caught me out," Steve said. "Wouldn't do for us to go back to New York with that big pout on your face. People might think that Captain America wasn't treating his boyfriend right, and then where would be?"

"Probably giving them all reason to think I'd done something to deserve it," Tony pointed out. Steve's smile fell and he immediately felt guilty, opening his mouth to apologize. But Steve shook his head.

"They're all idiots. I know that and you know that and at the end of the day we're the ones that matter," he said, this time brushing a kiss across Tony's mouth. "Screw everyone else. They're not worth our time."

"Spoken like a superhero," Tony said, eyeing him curiously.

"Captain America is a superhero. Steve Rogers is just a guy who loves his boyfriend a lot," Steve said earnestly. "And... also a guy who is really hungry and wants to eat already."

Tony burst out laughing, forgetting all about keeping up the mock-pout, and pushed Steve away from him. “Fine then, let’s eat,” he said, not even pretending to be annoyed. Supersoldiers required a lot of calories to keep going. Steve may not have been fighting supervillains, but they’d been active enough.

They sat down to breakfast. It was weird for Tony to eat by himself, and with a fork and knife no less; he’d grown used, in a way, to having Steve feed him, or to eating with his hands. He even found himself missing his bottle. Though it was nice to have a cup of coffee without Steve side-eyeing him over it, there was something comforting about starting the day off with Steve’s arms around him and a bottle of warm milk. He would miss that ritual when they returned to the tower, and he thought that Steve probably would too.

But then, it wasn’t like this was the end of their age play. Tony scolded himself for being overly dramatic. This was important to him and Steve, so they would continue to carve out time for it in their busy schedules. It wasn’t even like this was going to be the last vacation they’d ever take. He thought that Steve had enjoyed their time up here enough to come back. Maybe next time they could make it a tropical vacation. Steve would like that.

The bottom line was, he and Steve couldn’t stay here forever. Their work was too important. The world needed Captain America and Iron Man, and the livelihood of thousands of people depended on Stark Industries. Besides, he and Steve would inevitably get bored if they were to stay here. They were both used to being active and on-the-go. This vacation had been nice because it was just that: a vacation.

“I’m going to miss this,” Steve said, drawing Tony out of his thoughts. “It was really nice not having to hide, and being able to spend all day with you.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Tony admitted. “I had fun.”

Steve perked up, smiling. “I did too. A lot of fun. I feel a lot more relaxed. We should do this again.”

It was like Steve had read his mind. Tony nodded. “I’d like that.” It was comforting to know that Steve had been having the same thoughts as him. His stomach fluttering, Tony dared to reach out and take Steve’s hand. Steve’s smile widened and he squeezed Tony’s hand with just the right amount of pressure. They sat there smiling stupidly at each other for longer than Tony wanted to admit.

When they were finished with breakfast, Steve cleaned up while Tony tracked down the toys he’d spread all over the cabin and packed them away. He was on the hunt for his stuffed elephant when he passed by the living room window and froze, staring at the snowmen outside. Because when he’d gone to bed last night, there’d only been six of them. Now he was looking at eight.

“Oh my god,” Tony said out loud, staring in disbelief at the sight of the Nick Fury and Phil Coulson snowmen. The Fury one was wearing an eyepatch. He could feel his mouth twitching as laughter built up inside of him.

“What do you think?” Steve said from just behind him, sounding ridiculously pleased with himself. “I got up early this morning to make them. It just didn’t seem right not to complete the set. I’ve been waiting for you to notice.” He wrapped his arms around Tony from behind.

“I think I love you,” Tony whispered, awed, not even registering the words that he’d spoken until he felt Steve freeze behind him. Then reality sank in and he tensed, his amusement fleeing as panic set in. He hadn’t meant to say that. Hadn’t even known that he was going to. Had purposely been keeping himself from even thinking it.

Because it was true. He really did love Steve, even though he’d tried so hard not to. But Tony was only human, and how could you not fall in love with someone who went out of their way to make you smile? That was what Steve did, until it got to the point where Tony wanted to smile just because Steve was in the same room as him. Steve was loving and caring and sweet and goofy and dorky and the best Daddy ever and Tony loved him.

“Tony?” Steve said, sounding shocked, and Tony steeled himself. His instinct was to run away, but there was nowhere to go unless he wanted to spend several hours freezing outside. Steve slowly turned him around so that their eyes met, and Tony gritted his teeth as he looked into Steve’s face and braced himself for whatever came next.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” he said quickly.

“But you did mean it?” Steve asked.

Tony prided himself on his ability to lie. Words were the first weapon he’d ever wielded, after all, and he’d perfected the art of lying with the best of them. But right then, he found himself incapable of lying to Steve. Maybe it was the look on Steve’s face – shock mingled with something that might have been hope. Or maybe it was just that lying now seemed stupid, because they both knew that Tony had meant it. Whatever the case, Tony swallowed hard and forced himself to speak.

“Yes,” Tony said softly, reluctantly. “I – sorry.”

“Sorry?” Steve repeated. “Tony, honey, why are you apologizing?”

Tony shrugged, dropping his gaze and scuffing his slipper against the ground. He wasn’t in his headspace at the moment, but he still felt unbearably vulnerable. Finally, he muttered, “Everyone I love leaves. Except…”

“Except?”

“You’re weird because you haven’t,” Tony said to Steve’s feet. “And… I don’t know why, but I don’t think you will. You’re just crazy enough to stick around.”

Steve let out a started laugh at that. “Oh, Tony. I love you so much.”

“You… you do?” Tony looked up at him, stunned.

“Yes, baby. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve bitten my tongue because I didn’t want to scare you off,” Steve said, cupping Tony’s face. “You’re my everything, Tony. My baby and my boyfriend and my teammate and my partner in every way that matters, all wrapped up in one impossibly frustrating, amazing, beautiful package. Of course I love you.”

The utter sincerity in Steve’s face and voice made it hard to do anything but believe him. Tony leaned into the touch of Steve’s hands. “You won’t leave me?”

“No. I promise. You’re stuck with me,” Steve said. “So long as you want me.”

Tony couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he was pretty sure he’d want Steve forever. “I think I can live with that,” he said, trying out a shaky smile.

Steve beamed at him and pulled him into a hug, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist so tightly that Tony’s feet left the floor by a couple inches. Tony was prepared for the kiss on his mouth, when it came, but what he wasn’t ready for was that it only lasted a few seconds before Steve pulled back and started peppering kisses all over his face, murmuring ‘I love you’ in between kisses. Steve got his nose and both cheeks and his forehead and his chin before Tony, squawking in dismay, wriggled free.

“Stop that! It took me twenty minutes to get my hair right this morning!”

Steve, damn him, just laughed, and Tony couldn’t even get angry: it was the best sound in the world.