I received this as a prompt of tumblr. Enjoy!
"Explain to me again why Mother's Day is my day and you get Father's Day."
"You have larger breasts than I do," Tony stated matter-of-factly, not looking up from the engine he was building.
Steve's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?" he choked out. "Did you just say I have larger-"
"Breasts. Yes." Tony set down the piece of engine he was working on and spun his chair around to face Steve. Steve looked back at him, wide-eyed and waiting, his arms crossed over his chest. Tony let out a little mock-sigh as if he was disappointed in Steve for not understanding, and got up, walking toward his husband. "Your pectoral muscles are larger than mine."
Tony rested his index finger on his lips and squinted his eyes, seriously considering Steve's Chest. "I'd say a D cup."
Steve barked out a laugh. "Oh," he said, because he understood now. He had his answer. Tony was using what Steve called "Tony-logic". Which meant there wasn't any, but Tony would make up the most ridiculous answer to your question and give it to you straight as if it were fact. And you'd eventually accepted it because Tony could go on for days pulling stuff out of his ass to make you believe him.
Steve shook his head at Tony, smiling, because really, what could he say to that?
"Okay, fine," Tony relented, "a Double D, but only on a good day." He held his hand out in a 'stopping' gesture as if to say, 'but let's not get ahead of ourselves here'.
Steve leaned forward and kissed Tony as he rambled on, muffling the nonsense that was still coming out of his mouth. He backed away slowly, smiling at his husband before turning around to leave Tony's lab.
"Let me know for sure, okay? I don't want to get you the wrong sized bra at Victoria's Secret," he called after Steve innocently, but there was an undercurrent of amusement that was always there when Tony spoke. Steve waved a hand 'goodbye' but didn't turn around as he continued up the stairs.
"Lace doesn't bother you, does it? I know some people have sensitive skin, and you always shiver whenever I lick your nipp-" The upstairs door closed, and Steve never got to hear the end of that sentence, and Tony never got to see Steve's blush.
Tony smirked at the upstairs door for a moment before walking back over and taking a seat at his workstation. "Music," he said aloud, and Def Leppard began playing again. He picked up the engine piece he'd been working on and held it in his hands. The smirk faded slowly as he stared at the metal and gears and all the little things that made sense to him. Things that less than a handful of other people would be able to understand if they were looking at it.
He twirled the object, looking at it but not seeing it. But no, he wasn't really looking. He was searching. What he held in his hands was no longer a hunk of metal to his eyes, what he held was a crystal ball. A crystal ball that was all smoke and mist at the moment. It refused to clear long enough to show him what he should get Steve for Mother's Day.
Tony had never experienced a real Mother's Day before. Or a Father's Day. Neither of his parents had acknowledged the holiday. Tony had tried giving his parents gifts when he was five. Both of them had told him "not to be ridiculous" and to "not bother with such frivolities". And after that day, he didn't.
And it's been that way for the past six years, when they adopted one-year-old Peter. Steve had changed Tony in many ways, made him a better person, taught him how to be a good father, but that was one thing he could not shake. Tony refused to acknowledge Father's Day. He could never see it as anything other than unnecessary fussing.
It wasn't until Peter asked why he didn't celebrate it that Tony changed his mind, because when he spoke, it was his father's voice coming out, not his own. And he realized then that the voice who had spoken to his five-year-old self had not been his father's, but his grandfather's. And his father before him and so on down the line. Tony didn't want Peter speaking with his voice when he had a child. He wanted Peter to have his own voice.
The smile that had bloomed across Steve's face when Tony told him about his decision to start celebrating Father's Day made him wish he'd made the decision sooner. Or, at the very least, filmed it so he could replay the moment over and over again.
However, he decided that he wanted Steve to have a separate day. He also wanted Peter to experience both a Mother's and Father's Day. It wasn't conventional, but what about the Stark-Rogers family was? And, well, he was clearly the father, as Tony had rationalized earlier.
Besides, Mother's Day came first, so it would give Tony a chance to ease into the holidays. This holiday in particular happened to be taking place a week from now. Buying a gift for Steve for next week was different than buying a gift for his birthday or Christmas. Those gifts were more individualized. This gift required a different strategy, because it was celebrating Steve as a parent to a child that they both loved. Someone who was more than themselves as individuals.
How did he sum up what Steve had done not only for Peter, but for Tony, in a simple gift? Tony'd had no idea how to be a father, and would have ended up being just like his own father if the other parent of his child had been anyone other than Steve. Because Steve didn't simply try to fill the void that Tony created with his ineptitude, lack of affection, and grim disposition towards Peter in the beginning, the way so many mothers and fathers did when there was an absent parent. He taught Tony what to do, taught him how to show affection, and taught him how to love as only parents can. He forced Tony to man-up; he didn't let him run away.
What Tony dropped was the crystal ball, but what hit the desk was the hunk of metal as he broke out of his musings. Tony clapped his hands onto his face and dragged them down. Maybe he could hire someone to pick out the perfect gift for Steve.
Tony immediately dismissed that idea, tossing it into the 'Stop Being An Ass' pile that Steve had created for him. He knew Steve would kick his ass if he did. Or more likely, he'd look at him with those big blue eyes, and they'd be filled with disappointment. Tony wouldn't be able to handle that. There was only one thing worse than someone you love being disappointed in you. And that was what came after disappointment. It was when you couldn't disappoint someone because they already expected you to do something bad. Tony had toed that line before, in the beginning of their relationship, and he never wanted to get anywhere near it again.
But who could he ask for help? No one knew Steve better than he did. The only other person who came close was...
Tony jumped out of his seat and took the stairs two at a time. "Jarvis, where's my son?" he asked aloud to the AI system.
"Peter is in the playroom, sir."
Tony peeked around the door, his eyes shifting around the room. "And my husband?" he said quietly.
"On the deck, starting the grill, sir."
Tony straightened up and headed for the stairs. The door to the playroom was open, but Tony knocked on it anyway to announce his arrival. Peter was sitting at his Transformers table, crayons, markers, and colored pencils sprawled across it.
"Hey, Buddy, whatcha drawing?" Tony asked, walking over and sitting in a chair that was far too small for him, at the other end of the table.
"I'm making a card for Pops, for Mother's Day," he said without looking up from his picture. He'd clearly gotten that trait from Tony.
Tony leaned forward to check it out, but Peter covertly wrapped his free arm over it, shielding it from view, all without stopping coloring. "You can't see it yet, Dad. It's not done."
Tony smiled and leaned back. Now that was definitely a trait he'd gotten from Tony, who never let anyone see what he was working on until it was finished. Except, occasionally, Peter, who would come down and ask to help. And Tony would let him as long as it wasn't dangerous, teaching him along the way.
"Gotcha. You know, when you're done, we can turn that card into a motorized airplane. Flashing lights, crew, parachutes, everyth-"
"No, Dad."
Tony's mouth hung open, his tongue still stuck to the back of his teeth at his half-formed word. "Why not?" he asked after a second. Peter was normally all for turning microwaves into robots and strapping rockets to sleds.
"Because, that's the stuff you like. Pops doesn't like technology; that's why he married you."
Tony's eyebrows went up. "He married me because I'm good with technology?"
Peter nodded. "Yeah, to help him use his phone and stuff."
Tony leaned back in his seat, smiling. He crossed his arms over his chest, openly amused. "Okay. Then why did I marry your father?"
Peter's tongue was peaking out of his mouth as he concentrated particularly hard on coloring one part of the picture. "Because he makes you food. If he didn't cook for you, you'd starve!"
Tony laughed. "I can cook a few things," he defended himself. "How do you think I survived before I met your father?"
Peter looked up for the first time since Tony had entered the room, his colored pencil poised in place. He regarded Tony with a scrunched up face that was clearly questioning if Tony was from this planet. "What are you talking about, Dad? You've known Pops your whole life!" he exclaimed in that over exaggerated way kids do when they're explaining something to you that they think should be the most obvious thing in the world. "You weren't alive before you met Pops."
Tony started to protest, to explain how he and Steve had met, but then he stopped. Because in a way – in the corniest way possible that is – he hadn't been alive until he met Steve. It was a common view among children that their parents hadn't lived lives before them. That they'd come into being at the same time, because they didn't know any better. But now that Tony thought about it, they weren't wrong. Didn't everyone begin a whole new life when they fell in love?
Tony stared at his kid, awed at how simply he could define love and do it better than any adult ever could. It didn't matter that Peter didn't understand the full extent of what he was saying, because what he did understand was the important part.
Tony got up from his chair and kneeled next to his son. He placed a hand on Peter's neck and pulled him closer, placing a kiss on top of his head. "Thanks, Pete," he said softly. He knew just what to get Steve now.
"For what?" Peter gave him the "Is that my dad or an alien?" look again.
Tony just smiled and rose to his feet. "Be good," he instructed his son. He reached down and ruffled Peter's hair.
"Ahh, Dad!" Peter groaned, but then started to giggle when Tony tickled his neck.
For the next week, Tony never brought up Mother's Day again. Never said a word about it. Not even Steve, who'd begun to think that Tony was having second thoughts, could get a word in when he tried to bring it up to Tony to tell him it was okay if he didn't want to celebrate it anymore. The times that Steve did bring it up, Tony had muffled his words with a kiss as soon as he caught drift of where the conversation was headed, and proceeded to head toward their bedroom until Steve couldn't remember his own name, let alone what he was supposed be talking to Tony about. Another time Tony had begun shouting at the top of his lungs instructions on how to build this new clean energy machine until Steve gave up and walked away. And another time Tony had simply turned around and walked away mid-sentence.
And that was when Steve could get a word in at all. Most of the time Tony was locked away in his lab, having changed the code so that Steve couldn't get in. Or he was on the phone at odd hours of the night. Steve knew this because he would roll over in their bed, absentmindedly going to throw an arm over Tony, and would end up grabbing air. Only to find Tony pacing in the kitchen in the dim light of the stove-top, a phone pressed to his ear. He would stop immediately upon Steve's arrival, being made aware of it because of Jarvis, who'd alerted Tony. Or he was off playing with Peter, knowing full well that Steve wouldn't bring up the subject in front of him.
Needless to say, Steve was apprehensive when Mother's Day arrived that Sunday. But his worrying turned out to be needless. Tony and Peter made Steve breakfast in bed...Okay, Bruce, Clint, and Natasha came over and helped Peter make Steve breakfast in bed. Tony wasn't allowed anywhere near the kitchen.
After that, Peter gave Steve the picture he'd drawn of them as a family, Peter holding the hands of his two parents in front of their house. It was impressively life-like for a seven-year-old. Tony knew that was all due to Steve, who was an incredible artist and had sat down for hours at a time teaching their son everything he knew. The rest of the day was spent at the park, skipping rocks in the river, feeding ducks, playing in the sandbox, and pretending the jungle-gym was a pirate ship. Tony was the captain of the ship, of course, and made Steve "swab the decks" while Peter watched the weather and sea conditions, and kept an eye out for sea monsters.
Tired from the sun and playing all day, Peter went to bed before dinner, already filled up on ice cream and french fries, leaving Tony and Steve alone. They sat on the deck, in the warm afternoon air, a light breeze blowing through. They were curled up on the swinging couch in silence. Steve had kept a close eye on Tony all day, making sure he was truly okay, looking for any hints that he wasn't and was simply suffering through the day for Steve and Peter's sake. As much as Tony had wanted to make the day special for him, Steve wanted to make it just as special for Tony to show him that he could have a good experience, and to make up for all the years his parents had deprived him of it.
Steve turned his head to face Tony, his eyes traveling up and down Tony's body. He licked his lips. "So, is my husband going to take me to bed now, or does he want dinner before his dessert?"
Tony, who'd just opened his mouth to ask Steve if he wanted his present now, choked on air. He looked over at his husband, who's eyes were half-lidded seductively, although there was a hint of amusement in them because innocent, pure, do-gooder Steve wasn't exactly the seductive type.
Tony mentally sent a hailstorm of curses at him. Why did Steve have to choose TONIGHT of all nights to be cheeky? The look Steve was giving him made Tony sorely tempted to forget Steve's gift until tomorrow and take his leering husband straight up to their room, or somewhere along the way because he wasn't sure he could make it that far. He wanted to take advantage of his husband's unusual mood, for tomorrow it would likely be gone, not to be seen again for awhile, like a solar eclipse. And any mention of it hereafter would likely bring a blush to the Captain's cheeks.
Tony brought a hand up and coughed to cover-up his falter. And because this is a cruel, cruel world that obviously has it out for Tony Stark, Steve smirked. SMIRKED. Innocent, pure, do-gooder Steve Rogers, smirked at Tony Stark. Tony couldn't help it. He pulled Steve to him and slammed their mouths together. Steve was all hands right off the bat, touching, pulling, kneading, Tony everywhere. Tony groaned into his mouth, feeling like a seventeen-year-old hormonal teenager at Steve's touch.
It wasn't that Steve didn't always rev Tony up like this. Steve was adventurous in the bedroom, playful, fun, attentive, kinky, and seductive in his own way. But Tony was the aggressive one. It was Tony who brought the roughness to Steve's caresses, the spice to Steve's sugar, the bite to Steve's soothing kisses, the April thunderstorms to June's cloudless skies.
With all his strength, Tony pushed Steve away. This was Steve's day. Not his. And it wasn't like Tony was oblivious to why Steve was acting this way. He was worried about him, Tony knew that. He wanted to distract Tony, and to give Tony a good time on this day. But Steve had nothing to worry about, and Tony wasn't going to use this as an out to skip over talking about his feelings.
"Wait," Tony breathed out. Steve didn't stop immediately, but instead continued to suck on Tony's neck, while his hand traveled down to Tony's -
Tony gripped Steve's wrist, briefly closing his eyes before opening them to glare up at the heavens. Steve pulled away, his breathing labored as he searched Tony's eyes. "What? What's wrong?"
"Dinner," Tony said, regaining his breath. "Dinner first." Steve's eyes widened marginally in surprise, before narrowing with a suspicion and worry that Steve was obviously trying to hide from Tony. But Steve was too close, and Tony had known him for too long not to pick-up on his most minute expressions. "I'm hungry," Tony offered lamely. Steve stared at him for another second before nodding reluctantly.
That was all Tony needed, and all he could take to be honest. He wasn't entirely sure he could resist if Steve had decided to get handsy again. He grabbed Steve's hand and pulled him into the house, past the kitchen and through the living room, and on until they reached the stairs. "I thought you said you wanted dinner?" Steve said from behind Tony, where he was letting himself be dragged along.
Tony muttered something that Steve didn't catch, and didn't think he was supposed to. Tony led him down the stairs to the door that led to his lab. The lab walls, which were usually glass, were now solid steel, as they had been all week. "Tony, what's going on?" Steve asked, looking at his husband, more curious now than worried.
Tony gave him a contained smile as he fought to restrain his excitement, as he had been doing all day. "Your Mother's Day gift," he said simply.
"Wait, what?" Steve said, caught off guard. "But, Tony, you didn't – I – you haven't mentioned Mother's Day for a week now. I didn't think you were serious about making it my day."
Tony leaned forward and lightly pressed a kiss to Steve's lips. He smiled and continued to look at Steve while he punched in the code to open the door. "I've been busy," he said, and turned his head towards the lab. The wall of steel had disappeared, replaced by its usual glass setting, making the contents of the lab visible.
And by the looks of what was inside, you never would have been able to tell it used to be Tony's lab. The high tech equipment and computers and expensive cars had been replaced with old dining booths and tables, a bar over in the corner, and old game machines in the other. A sign that read 'Skip's' hung from the ceiling. The place was an exact replica of Steve's favorite diner from back in the day, there was even the haze of cigarette smoke looming in the air. An illusion, of course, as Tony knew Steve wouldn't want the real thing.
Only cartoon characters could actually be seen with their jaws literally on the floor when the expression was given, but super soldier Steve Rogers came as close to having his jaw hit the floor in astonishment as any human was capable of. He walked forward dazedly, running his hands over the surfaces of every chair, every tabletop, and every light figure. "So this is what you were doing all this time," Steve mused, his head swiveling upwards and around the room. Tony smiled, but didn't say anything. Steve froze when they walked across the small area of empty space. "Is that a Rock-Ola jukebox?" Steve asked, awed. He stared at the machine, not even touching it, just ghosting his hands over it as if touching it would make it disappear into thin air, or crumble to pieces.
Tony nodded. "Not the actual one from the diner. Although there are a few booths in here from the diner, and some of the lamps. And that sign is real." He nodded his head at the Skip's sign. "But it was still hard to find an authentic one. It took some tweaking and tuning, but she runs pretty fine for an old gal." Tony patted the jukebox, which was all lit up and ready to be played.
Steve turned a playful eye on Tony. "Alright, what'd you do to it? Does it play songs by voice recognition? Can it fly around the room? Does it transform into a stage and project images of the musicians playing the songs?"
Tony laughed, because it was a fair question. He shook his head. "No, none of that. It's just a restored hunk of metal and wood." Steve eyed him suspiciously. Tony laughed again and held up his hands. "I mean it. Look, you even have to put in a nickel." He pointed at the coin slot. Steve followed his gaze and smiled. He finally let himself touch it, marveling at the machine.
"You're smiling now, but you know I only carry $100 dollar bills on me, so I hope you weren't planning on playing the thing," Tony teased. He would be keeping the restaurant in his lab for the next week, so Peter could see and enjoy it too, but then he'd have it removed. The jukebox, however, would be staying with them, wherever they ended up putting it.
Steve laughed, and turned back to Tony, a soft smile on his face. "It's perfect – You're prefect. Thank you." He pulled Tony close and kissed him, sweet and tenderly. They broke apart, but Steve still held Tony close, his arms wrapped around him. "Will you dance with me?" he asked quietly, his lips pressed to Tony's ear.
Tony simply nodded. He'd give the world to Steve if he asked for it. Steve pulled away and walked over to the jukebox, and began shuffling through the albums, because he knew that Tony really had rigged it to play without coins. A smooth Blues song came on a moment later. Steve walked back over to Tony, placing his hands on Tony's hips. Tony let Steve take the lead on this one, placing his arms around Steve's neck. They danced closely, in silence for awhile, letting the jukebox play from song to song without changing it.
And then the mood shifted as the songs changed from Blues to something quicker. Something more heated. Suddenly, but without any definable moment, Tony and Steve were moving against each other in a different way. Hands traveling up arms, mouths breathing hot and heavily against necks, hips grinding together, breaths hitching, eyes filled with heat and desire as they met to acknowledge the shift.
Tony licked his lips; they were close enough that his tongue ghosted over Steve's lips. Steve's mouth moved unconsciously forward in response, reacting to Tony's touch.
Tony's gaze flickered down to Steve's lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. "I think I'd like to see that dessert menu now."
Thanks for reading! I would love to know what you thought, even just a few words is fine :) Or how about if everyone can just copy and paste their favorite part? That'd be great :) Thanks again!