Hello, just a quick author's note before you read. My name is Vengeance4DD and this is my first ever fanfiction, so I very deeply apologize if the characters seem OOC to you. I tried my best with it. I usually write poetry, not short stories, and this has been my first in years. Like, six years. Please let me know if you do or don't like it, but please know that i am absolutely not going to deal with flamers. Thank you and enjoy!

Copyright: I obviously do not own any of the characters that appear in this story. If I did, Clintasha and Superfamily! would be a very official thing. Marvel owns everything.

(Tony's POV)

Tony wasn't usually this nervous about Steve making it back from a mission. Steve's a fully capable man, ready and able to take on whatever life (or SHIELD) throws at him. But this wasn't about Steve's safety or wellbeing during his assignment. This wasn't about Tony being grouchy about not seeing his super soldier for weeks on end. This was about Christmas. This was about Peter.

"Fuck you, Fury. Dammit. Fuck, fuck, fuck." Tony grumbled to himself, fumbling around in the kitchen, balancing a tray of finished cookies in one hand and a tray of uncooked dough blobs in the other. He slid the uncooked dough into the oven and examined the finished tray. The sight of the perfectly baked cookies didn't make him feel any better, despite them being the first successful batch. Baking was Steve's forte, not Tony's. Steve. Tony let out another grouchy expletive and bit his tongue to stop the rest of his words from joining it. Nat was watching little Pete in the other room, and his husband would be pissed to know he was cursing with their impressionable six year old so close again. Bad habits die hard. Especially when you're as pissed and nervous as Tony is.

With his hands now empty and since cursing was out of the question (until he forgot or slipped up again), Tony couldn't help it; he started to bang around the kitchen a little too forcefully while getting out the ingredients for the next batch of cookies. That is, until an annoyed red headed super assassin popped in and told him to calm down.

Tony groaned. "I'm trying, Nat, I really am."

She sent him a quirked eyebrow and didn't need to supplement it with her words. The look dripped incredulity and said it all.

"It's Christmas Eve, and Steve isn't back yet, and I can't contact him, and he should have been back at least a week ago, and I need this to be special for Pete because I can't manage Christmas on my own, and Steve isn't back yet!" He broke his hysterical ramble with a quick intake of breath and couldn't even force himself to be embarrassed over how unmanly and high his voice had become at the end of his rambling. Also, it was Natasha. She was used to whiney and undignified. She was dating Barton, after all. Speaking of Katniss…

Tony sighed, "I'm sorry, Nat. It's Christmas Eve, and you should probably be enjoying it with Clint, not babysitting Pete. You should go, I've got it." He didn't mean it, he totally needed Nat right now, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

"First of all, no you obviously don't. Secondly, Clint is having plenty of fun right now Eggnog Caroling with Thor, and thirdly, you know I don't mind watching Pete. Right now, it's my pleasure and your treat. Just relax, even if Steve doesn't make it this year, it'll still be a special Christmas for Peter. Trust me."

Tony's hands were still shaky, but he slightly calmed down at her words. Slightly. She probably used some super-spy-hypnosis thingy she picked up on the field on him. Yeah. She smirked, probably reading his thoughts the way only Natasha can. Tony squirmed. She was his teammate and friend, but damn if she isn't seriously creepy sometimes.

"Eggnog Caroling?" He switched topics, raising an eyebrow.

"Christmas themed drunk karaoke."

He put his hand over his heart in a mocking way and gasped, scandalized, "And I wasn't invited!" It came out lame and not at all funny. Damn his nerves.

Nat's lips pulled up in the corners and she sauntered out of the kitchen back into the living area to watch Pete again.

Tony was still aggravated, but at least he could keep the banging and swearing at bay. For now.

Please Steve, he thought, please make it back for this.

…

(Steve's POV)

Please, please let me make it back in time, Steve thought.

He'd been on this mission for way longer than initially expected, and as the days turned to weeks and bled farther and farther into December, Steve grew increasingly concerned. Christmas was HUGE for Steve, and the thought of not being there for Tony and Pete made his chest ache. He wasn't too fond of the snow or even the mere cold, but over the years he'd started to grow fond of the holiday season again. Especially since Pete came into their lives and he became a dad. Peter's smile as he tore into all that shiny paper made all of the unpleasant remembrances of the ice worth it. And he couldn't miss it. He wouldn't miss , Tony was probably freaking out right now.

Luckily for him, he was just wrapping things up. He couldn't believe all of the effort he had put into this mission when it had turned out to be so insignificant. Despite his usual respectful demeanor, he was definitely going to give Fury a piece of his mind when he reported back. Not immediately though. He didn't care about protocol, it was Christmas Eve and he was going to spend it with his two boys whether Fury wanted him to or not. He smashed the last of the clowns in the face with his boot (probably harder than necessary, but give him a break. He's Captain America, not a Saint) and glanced down at his watch. He bit off a curse. Okay, maybe he could still get there in time. Not before Pete's bedtime, of course, but soon enough to catch Tony by surprise. He hopes Tony didn't drive himself crazy. He's driven himself nuts over smaller things before.

Please let me make it, come on, Steve urged.

…..

(Tony's POV)

Tony wasn't going to lie (shocker), he was driving himself crazy. He had managed to finish up the baking without burning everything, and when he was done cleaning the kitchen he managed to urge Auntie Tasha out of the penthouse without too much fuss (from Pete or her, she was practically glued to him. Not her fault, Peter was pretty magnetic. Everyone liked the kid). She even almost believed him when he said he was fine. He turned to Peter and sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair and kneeling down next to his son.

"Petey, I know we usually open a gift tonight before Christmas, but this year it's going to be a little different since Pop's running a little late. Do you mind waiting until tomorrow?"

"Dad, Pop isn't going to make it tomorrow, is he?"

Okay, that totally made him feel like shit. Ugghhhh. Why does life suck?

"Honestly, Pete, I don't know. But I think it might make him feel better if he shows up and he finds out we waited for him, don't you think? If he isn't here in the morning, you don't have to worry about it, you can still open your gifts okay?"

"Okay, I guess I can wait…"

"Good boy," Tony smiled his first real smile all day, and continued, "Santa's gonna bring you a crap ton of stuff!" And with that, he hoisted his giggling son up over his shoulder and carried him to bed, forgetting to give him his bath (hey excuse me, that doesn't make him a bad parent, he just forgets sometimes ok? Sheesh) in his exhaustion.

"Love ya, Pete, be good and stay in bed all night or Santa won't come. Okay?"

Peter gave him a funny look. "Okay, love you too Dad."

"Night."

"Yeah."

He softly shut Peter's door and decided to grab a quick shower before laying out his presents. It was going to take a while before Pete actually decides to stop listening for Santa and gives into sleep, he knows from the previous years of close calls. He slips into his and Steve's bedroom and doesn't hear the sound of the elevator doors chiming open, and doesn't see the blur of red step out of it.

…

(Steve's POV)

Okay, he feels so incredibly ridiculous right now. At first, the idea of surprising his husband like this seemed cute and clever, but now the itchy red material he was sporting made him feel more foolish than possibly ever. And that was saying a lot, seeing as how foolish he had felt having to catch up to the rest of the world all those years back. He should probably change, but he could hear Tony in the shower and it occurred to him that now it was entirely too late. Instead of focusing on his embarrassment, he followed the scent of cookies into the kitchen and was impressed. Nothing was too burned, and their home seemed to be in total order. He had faith in his husband for a lot of things, but the man was not the among the cleanest on the planet. Maybe he had help? He stuffed about five cookies in his mouth at once with no shame, because he was positively ravenous. So sue him. He discovered that perhaps he should have taken his time and eaten them individually though, when he noticed the crumby, gritty mess he had made of the fake beard hanging off of his chin. Nice. Maybe he wasn't the neatest person in the world either. He turned around and made his way back into the living room, trying not to think about Tony showering in the other room. He had definitely missed him, and he was sort of ravenous in more ways than one. So sue him. To clear Tony from his head (ha, yeah right), he thought of checking in on the other most important thing in his life. He should be in bed fast asleep by now. He walked up the hall and carefully opened the door a crack.

….

(Tony's POV)

Okay, so Tony was half-dressed and his hair was soaked when he heard footsteps in the hallway. Big footsteps. Non six-year-old footsteps. He frantically pulled on a tank and flung the door open to see Steve only to be met with...Huh? His brain short-circuited and he could only stand there and stare. He should have automatically drawn the correct conclusion of, "Oh no biggie, just my hubby in cosplay". Being a genius and all, that's what he should have thought. But all he could think of at the time was that there was a very large man, in a very large red suit with his back to him, staring into his son's bedroom. No thoughts of the building being one of the most secure in the world, no thoughts of his insane security measures in place or the fact that JARVIS would have alerted him if something was wrong, or even that if he was paying attention, he would see the aching similarity of this stranger's and his husband's back (even when obscured by a saggy red suit).

No, all he thought was, "Get away from my son, you saggy pervert!"

And suddenly he was soaring across the space and the intruder was grunting and falling to the ground and hey, he didn't remember tackling the guy, but here he was and he has the upper hand. He's holding the struggling man down and tugging on his massive, white beard and…and holy shit, it just rips right off, did he just rip a guy's beard off? Holy shit. That's so gross!

He freezes and then slowly becomes aware of a sort of hushed, frantic chuckling around him and looks down from the hair in his hand to the laughing man laying beneath him and his brain short-circuits again, but in a very, very good way. There is a pile of very missed husband lying under him, choking back laughter.

"I…what? Oh my god, Steve, holy…did I hurt you? Oh my god, why am I so stupid…Jesus, I'm so stupid, here let me help you up."

Steve gets his laughter under control, but when Tony tried to get back up, both of Steve's hands find his hips and anchor him down.

"No, wait, I've missed you, don't get up just yet."

Tony glances into Peter's room and seeing him still fast asleep (how?), he shuts the door quietly and leans down to kiss his husband. It was meant to be chaste, but for the millionth time that night, the genius apparently didn't do the math. Because he was on fire. Jesus.

…

(Steve's POV)

The reuniting didn't go quite as Steve had expected. One moment, he was gazing in on his little boy, fast asleep in his bed. The next moment a very angry, shouting, wet Tony was tackling him to the ground and tearing at his costume. When he tore his artificial beard off, Tony's brown eyes had gone so wide with horror it was more than comical. It was hysterical. It didn't take long for Tony to realize his mistake; soon he was babbling apologies and rising back up. Steve wouldn't have it. Once he had his laughter under control, he grabbed Tony and kept him down.

"No, wait, I've missed you, don't get up just yet."

Tony gazed nervously into Peter's room but apparently, their little guy was all tuckered out. Thank goodness. He carefully shut the door and it closed with barely a click. Tony leaned down into Steve and pressed a kiss to his lips lightly, but it didn't stay light. It never did. He had electricity blazing under his skin, and after just a few minutes into their kissing Steve started to doubt their position on the floor. Maybe they shouldn't be doing this right in front of Peter's door…

Maybe he considered this a little too late.

"Dad? What's going on?" Peter was standing in the now-open doorway with wide, innocent dinner-plate eyes.

"Shit!"

"Language, Tony." Steve sounded incredibly sheepish.

….

(Tony's POV)

For the first time tonight, Tony's brain kicked into its normal high gear when he heard his son's voice. Unfortunately, they were stuck whichever way you flipped it. He was straddling and lip-locked with Peter's beloved childhood symbol, Father Christmas. God, it was just like that creepy Christmas carol. The beard was off of Steve's face thanks to the skirmish from earlier, however, and it would have been glaringly obvious even to a dull child that it wasn't Santa. They were caught, and they ruined Christmas for their boy at six because they were horny. Worst. Parents. Ever. Tony scrambled up from Steve clumsily and they both waited for the tears to come as Pete recognized the greatest lie of every childhood too early.

"Pop! You made it!" Peter rushed at Steve and he immediately bent down to take him into his arms.

"Of course I made it buddy." He planted a kiss into his son's mop of brown hair and shrugged at Tony's confused expression.

"Can we open the presents now?"

"Uh, they weren't laid out yet, honey. Santa hasn't come yet."

Huh. Maybe they could salvage Christmas after all.

"Santa isn't real. Duh. Everyone knows that."

Or maybe not.

….

(The next day, Tony's POV still)

It turned out that one of Pete's friends told him about Santa being fake in class. A Wade Winston or Wilfred or Wilson or something.

"The little asshole."

"Tony!"

They had finished opening presents. It was Christmas morning and while Pete was opening making an absolute clusterfuck mess of the living room, Tony was still grumbling and absolutely irate over the fact that some little punk had ruined all of Pete's Christmases for him. So unfair.

"Think of it this way, at least you weren't the one to ruin it."

"Excuse me, but it would've been totally your fault if that little punk from Pete's school didn't get there to ruin Christmas first."

Steve's eye got wide, "What?"

"Don't 'what' me, mister. 'Don't get up, I missed you, blah, blah, blah'. You got us into that mess."

"Who do you think kissed who first?"

"Who do you think egged me on?"

"Who do you think tackled me?"

"Who wore the incredibly dorky Santa costume?"

"I…okay, yeah, you're right. The costume was a bit much."

Tony shook his head with a small smile on his face, "I love you. You big jerk."

"I love you too, butthead." And he caught Tony in a (successfully) chaste kiss, "I think we still gave Pete a good Christmas."

Tony looked over at Pete, tearing into his presents like a monster, and he had to agree. "But that Wade kid is still gonna face my wrath one day. I may be a hero, but I'm a dad first."

Steve hummed in agreement, and watched his Roger-Starks enjoy Christmas.