"Tony, come on," Steve groans, leaning against the doorway of Tony's lab. "Peter's been waiting for you all afternoon. You can finish whatever the hell you're doing tomorrow."
"Just give me-"
"No." He pushes off the wall and crosses the room, leaning down and grabbing Tony's knees. Before Tony is fully aware of it Steve is and slinging him over his shoulder effortlessly as if he were a bag of trash.
"Hey!" Tony squirms incessantly and Steve's grip tightens just before a harsh slap lands on his ass.
"Put me down."
"No," Steve growls. Once upstairs he pushes Tony toward the family room and explains, "You know we've been waiting on you to put the tree up. You can't just be a part of the family when you feel like it. Pete's been waiting for you to come upstairs for hours. Go apologize to him."
Tony rolls his eyes and huffs, "Fine." He walks into the living room to see the Christmas tree leaning against the wall and Peter on the couch wrapped burrito-style in his blanket.
"Hey, Pete," he sighs.
Peter doesn't move, just glares at Tony and responds menacingly, "I'm not talking to you."
"Come on, that's not fair. You know how important my job is."
Peter quirks his eyebrow. "More important than me and Pops?"
Tony groans, glancing back at Steve accusingly, figuring that he put Peter up to this. In turn, Steve shakes his head.
Tony admits with a frown, "Nothing is more important to me than you two. It was wrong of me to keep you waiting and I'm sorry. I know I told you we could put the tree up when you got home today. So what do you say: put your big boy pants on and accept my apology so we can deck the halls?"
Peter finally breaks into a smile and Tony grins triumphantly when their son hops off the couch with enthusiasm. He scoops Peter into his arms, hoisting him onto his hip with some difficulty.
"You're getting way too big for this," Tony grunts.
"Maybe you're getting too old," Steve suggests.
"Shut up, old man."
"I am not old," Steve groans because seriously, they have this conversation at least once a month.
"Look at me, Tony, look at my face. Not one wrinkle. Yet there you are, with wrinkles, and gray hair at your temples, but I love you all the same."
Tony wants to joke about how Steve is getting himself into dangerous territory with his actions and how he's setting himself up for a few nights of sexual frustration. Steve crosses the room and goes about setting the tree in the stand and as soon as it's level Tony sends Peter to the kitchen for pitcher water. Steve doesn't even hear Tony approach him.
"You are in so much trouble," Tony whispers, voice low, chin on his shoulder and his fingers are gripping the sides of Steve's checkered shirt, inevitably wrinkling the starched fabric. "I sincerely hope you love being fucked raw because as soon as he's asleep your ass is mine."
"You know I do," Steve replies, spinning around with a devious smile on his lips. "Maybe I'll even let you tie me up."
"Oh, I will. I'll make you come so many times you won't be able to walk."
Just then Peter walks in carrying a pitcher of water, leaving a trail behind him as it swishes over the edges. He explains, "I didn't know how much so I brought a lot."
"That's great, Pete," Tony replies, distracted, his hands gripping – no, clinging – to Steve's arms. Steve wraps his arms around Tony's waist and pulls him close. He only gets one kiss in because Peter interrupts.
"Can you two stop being gross and help me?"
Steve pushes Tony away with a playful smile on his lips and Tony manages to lay a harsh slap on Steve's ass as he goes into the kitchen to start dinner.
Tony and Peter have the tree decorated just under an hour and a half. It would have been finished a lot sooner but Tony and Peter had an ornament fight. They then decided that just throwing the ornaments at the tree until they stuck between the branches was a lot more fun than just hanging them.
Steve wipes his hands on the dishtowel vaguely before tossing it on the counter.
"Boys," he calls, "dinner!"
"We're done!" Peter chirps, rushing into the room and bumping into Steve's legs. Steve's arms come around his son's shoulders instinctively.
Peter is so proud he's beaming, "But you have to do the star 'cause Dad said you have to."
"Alright," Steve says with a chuckle, hoisting Peter onto his hip and carrying him back into the living room. Tony hands him the star and Steve pops it onto the top of the tree with ease.
"What'd you make?" Tony asks as Steve and Peter trail into the kitchen behind him.
"Chicken and rice with steamed vegetables," Steve replies, setting Peter to his feet. He sighs softly and goes to fix his boys' plates but Tony presses up behind Steve's back, grabbing his hands.
"Sit," Tony orders softly, pressing a smiling kiss to the back of Steve's ear, "you've done enough."
Steve obeys and he can't resist but catch Tony's lips in a kiss when he sets the plate of food in front of him. Tony doesn't know when the hell they got so domestic but he's starting to realize that. He loves this, this whole world, right here in the tower with Steve and their little boy. If they could retire, if Tony could spend the rest of his days in bed cuddling with Steve on Saturday nights and taking Peter to school on weekday mornings, he would do it in a heartbeat.
After dinner Steve drags Tony over to the couch for a movie with Peter and before they know it it's midnight and Tony is drowsy and Peter is asleep at the opposite end of the couch. Steve carries Peter to his room and by the time he gets to the master bedroom Tony is already sprawled out on the bed.
"I'm not sure I've ever seen you succumb to sleep so easily."
"I'm exhausted from all the domesticity," Tony replies dryly as Steve plops down next to him.
"What do you want for Christmas?" Steve asks suddenly, turning his head to look at Tony who rolls his eyes in turn.
"Oh god, not this conversation again." He sighs, exasperated, "We have it every year."
"Well if you'd just tell me what to get you-"
"Steve, I don't need anything. I don't want anything; there's nothing I want that you can't give me."
Steve reaches over, fingers playing in Tony's hair and he beams, "That's sweet."
"But there is one thing," Tony admits, looking over at his husband with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.
"That look scares me," he says quietly, "but what is it?"
"I would kill to fuck you in a pair of red pumps."
"Pumps?" Steve echoes, confused.
"Pumps," Tony repeats as if it's the most obvious thing, "heels."
"You mean... women's shoes?"
"I know for a fact that you are not that dense. Yes, a pair of heels."
Steve is silent for a long moment before he mutters, "I don't really want to know how you got there. It's not happening."
"Oh, I assure you it'll happen."
Tony rolls onto his side, sliding an arm over his husband's chest and resting his head on Steve's pillow. He places a languid, thorough kiss to Steve's lips, intertwining their fingers sometime in between.
"What about you, sweet pea?" Tony asks, and now it's his turn to play with Steve's hair. "Anything you want for Christmas?"
Steve shakes his head, giving a delayed response as if he'd been thinking about this during their entire conversation, "I thought I was in trouble."
"Hm?"
"You were supposed to tie me up," Steve so kindly reminds him, "you said so earlier."
Tony sits up and reaches across Steve, pulling the nightstand drawer open as he replies, "Oh. Well, by all means."