Tony quickly lost track of time, hiding away in his workshop. There was no actual reason as to why he was still there. He had finished Bruce's new shorts with satisfying results hours ago, and he had been staring at an empty screen for longer than he cared to admit.
It wasn't that he was still experiencing his panic attack. His breathing had stabilized soon after sequestering himself in the workshop, and he had been able to forget about the situation on the communal floor for a brief period of time. Or maybe even a bit longer than a brief period of time.
He hadn't checked the time since rushing in to the workshop, and the blackout windows were in full effect, getting rid of any sun or city lights. Tony knew the Captain had probably stopped through by now, trying to get in the workshop and do his "superhero-fix-it" thing he did whenever he thought Tony needed fixing. Which seemed to be always.
He'd by lying if he said it didn't annoy him. No one ever interrupted him when he decided to hole himself away. People were always more than happy to have him out of the way, instead of having to deal with the eclectic hot mess that he was. Even Rhodey would let him disappear, yet never failing to emphasize that he was only a call away.
Rogers didn't understand this method; he did not do help from afar. He did not let his teammates alone to their thoughts if he thought it was self destruction. In short, the Captain did not believe Tony Stark had the capability to ask for help.
Tony couldn't really be angry with him of course, because the man was exactly right. Tony Stark hated asking for help. Asking for help meant being told that "Stark men didn't need help. Stark men weren't weak. They were made of iron," and- ah, things always seemed to circulate back to his late father, didn't they?
But not asking for help was his choice. He did not need a tall, blond super soldier at his door,demanding that he come up for lunch, no matter what "new fangled technology" he was working on. No matter how "life changing" it was.
Sometimes, Tony wanted to make another new element just to spite Steve Rogers and remind him that, no, he did not just sit and mope in the workshop and yes, he was more than a big man in a suit. He had earned the title genius.
So, soon after Captain America had moved into the tower, Tony created override code "Fuck Off." No matter how hard Rogers knocked, no matter how loud he yelled Tony's name, Jarvis made sure Tony would be blissfully unaware and happily uninterrupted. Even if JARVIS didn't necessarily approve.
Tony blinked at the empty blue screen as his stomach quietly grumbled. It felt like a lunchtime grumble, and maybe it was time to resurface. After all, Tony had left the group with a crying child, he deserved a couple of angry remarks from his teammates over a ham sandwich.
"JARVIS, disengage blackout and 'Fuck Off'."
"Already done, sir."
Tony left the workshop, the lights turning off behind him as he closed the door and began his ascent to the communal floor, much like he did this morning. He hummed to himself, trying to pretend that there was no possibility of a child waiting for him, tried to pretend that a panic attack had not happened in front of his teammates.
"Anxiety attack? Don't know her," He told himself, chuckling before the elevator doors slid open.
And there was no one. No lights on, no Avengers, no screaming children. Everything was blanketed in the eerie, quiet darkness that followed nighttime. The ceiling-to-floor glass windows were darkened, as they always were when the last Avenger went off to bed. There had been too many instances of nightmare ridden heroes, in which looking outside the window afterwards had only caused more harm than good. The last straw had been Cap, waking up from a nightmare to see the snow outside his window, cold, chilling and threatening to bury him… Tony had never seen someone shiver so violently as Cap had that night, JARVIS calling them all urgently to help their pseudo-freezing teammate. All windows went blackout at bedtime, after that.
"JARVIS, what time is it?" Tony asked, padding blindly into the living room, hands spread out as he attempted to avoid running into anything as he made his way to the kitchen.
"It is five a.m. in the morning, sir. It's Sunday," JARVIS informed.
"Well, shit," Tony hissed under his breath, finally feeling cool tile under his feet as he entered the kitchen.
"As you say, sir."
He had spent the whole day in the workshop. The whole day. Tony couldn't remember what he had even accomplished, but he knew that it hadn't needed the 12 hours to do it.
Cap would be furious. He always preached to Tony about getting good sleep in order to deliver the best performance out on the battlefield. He insisted two hour power naps were not healthy, and coffee was too much of a crutch. Tony had even caught him on the phone, talking to Pepper, asking for advice. Tony didn't even have to imagine the laugh she probably gave him in response, followed by something close to "good luck with that one" or "you're on your own" or "its a lost cause."
Grumbling to himself, he flicked on the lights under the cabinets, letting just enough light wash over the kitchen area without blinding him.
"Tony?" a voice hissed, coming from the darkness in the living area.
Tony jumped in surprise, yelping as he whipped around from pulling the coffee grounds out of the cabinet. He couldn't see who had spoken, and it took an ample amount of squinting to find a shadowy figure, framed by the very faint light coming through the blackout windows as the sun began to slowly rise. They were watching Tony over the back of the couch, and he wasn't as young as he used to be because he really couldn't see who it was and that was a problem.
"It's Bruce," the figure said, amusement dripping from his tone as Tony stopped squinting and grimaced.
"I knew that," Tony mumbled, turning back to the cabinets and grabbing the coffee grounds once more. He had to tiptoe in order to reach the container, put high and out of reach as only Clint Barton did. Any chance to remind Tony that he was short and Clint would take it.
Silence settled over them as he prepared his coffee, pouring the grounds into the filter at the top. His hands didn't seem to want to listen very well, dropping the scoop on their own accord and scattering the mess all over the counter. Tony whispered his choice expletives as he stared at the mess, as if glaring at it would cause it to magically disappear.
"Jitters?" Bruce asked, voice suddenly behind him, and how had Tony not heard him approach? Banner didn't tend to be a quiet person, didn't quiet his footsteps like the super secret assassin's did.
"Something like that. Why are you up?" Tony replied with a question, changing the subject away from his seemingly broken reflexes. Bruce didn't answer for a few seconds, instead opting to wet a paper towel and begin cleaning the coffee grounds off the counter.
"Once I wake up, I can't get back to bed. A curse, but at least I get to watch the sunrise," and wasn't Bruce such a hippie sometimes? Good god, if Tony didn't cherish and need their friendship, he would have so much material to tease with.
Another silence settled as the scientist cleaned the rest of the mess and Tony poured water into the contraption.
"Why are you up?" Bruce inquired with a light tone, as if he had an idea as to why, but wanted to hear it from Tony himself.
"Bruce, please, not now," Tony groaned, "I didn't get any sleep at all, and I just want my goddamn coffee."
"Was it another panic attack? We've talked about this Tony, don't push us away-"
"Why, Doctor Banner, are you trying to diagnose me?"
"No, I-"
"I thought you said you weren't that kind of doctor."
Bruce huffed and looked over at Tony as he threw away the soiled paper towel, giving him a withering frown as he did so. He sighed at his friends expression, and turned back to the coffee maker as he set his preferences with the dials and buttons. Living alone had meant he had never had to change the settings, everything the way he liked it. Now, however, Thor turned everything to espresso and caffeine, without thinking about resetting Tony's preferences before continuing on his day.
"Bruce, I know you're concerned, and I appreciate that, I really do. But some things are best dealt with alone, and right now I'm the last person we need to focus on, because somehow we have a kid, and why the shit do we have a child in our dangerous, crime fighting care?" Tony rambled as the coffee started to brew, and he really needed to know the answers because he did not want to get sued by some social worker services or accused of kidnapping. He did not need to be illegally housing a kid in what could be considered a very unhealthy and unsafe place.
And suddenly Tony was thinking of all the screws lying around in his workshop, and uncovered electric sockets, and sharp table corners, and god why did kids have to be so goddamn breakable-
"Steve found him in one of the apartment complexes near the Doombot fight yesterday. Apparently his guardian got caught in the line of fire. He was hiding under his bed when Steve found him," Bruce explained, sadness written all over his face. Tony's heart stuttered in empathy.
"Guardian?" Tony asked, almost a whisper as he could feel the raw pain ooze down his throat, the pain that came with reading stories about world poverty and dying dogs.
"Nat helped us research the kid after everything settled and social services agreed to keep him in our care. Apparently, Peter's parents died in a mysterious plane crash."
His hand paused as he reached up for his favorite coffee mug, heart stopping for a beat as Tony felt phantom grief for the child. The familiar tug of pain hit too close to home, and suddenly the mood of the conversation had became too heavy for his liking.
"Then Pete will fit right in. I know at least one other person on this team whose parents died due to mysterious causes," Tony snorted, as if sharing something that deeply traumatic with the kid was a funny thing, "Or maybe not so mysterious, because, you know, the mystery is solved."
Bruce sucked in an unsteady breath as Tony resumed grabbing his coffee mug, making fleeting eye contact with the doctor before looking down at the coffee, slowly dripping into the pot. This was one of the subjects they had not breached, pertaining to what had happened in Siberia.
Of course, Rogers and himself had touched on it briefly, a few days after reconnecting. Just enough covering the subject to brush it under the bridge, even though it would probably never be fully under that bridge. And of course, the rest of team had seen the photoage, because debriefing was mandatory and they had insisted there was a reason as to why Iron Man had snapped. And as the story goes, Rogers had reluctantly given over the photoage, standing stalk still and frozen as the day they found him as the team watched on in horror.
And right after that, Clint had called Tony for the first time since the Civil War, informed him that he was a small man with a likely smaller dick, and then demanded he have a bed and room ready for him the next day to crash in.
The Accords had been solved, of course. Ross's downfall had been choosing Tony to help with creating the accords, something that he could easily manipulate. And soon after Siberia, he had made sure to alter and make the Sokovia Accords to be less of a war declaration, and more of a guideline to keep more people safe. Captain America's little team of heroes had been removed from the wanted list, and the world had acted as if nothing happened.
"Tony…" Bruce began, before the genius brushed him off with a lazy wave.
"If I need to talk to someone, you're here, I know. But I don't. No use thinking about it, it won't change what happened," and it was true, nothing would change what had happened. The best thing to do was stuff it under the bridge, even if it didn't fit under said bridge. And Rogers and himself were on speaking terms, no matter that they were slightly strained speaking terms.
They both watched as Tony took the coffee pot, now full with liquid caffeine, and poured himself a cup.
"So, have we officially adopted the kid then? Whose last name is he taking?" Tony joked as he set the pot back in its place and reached for the sugar.
"Not adopted yet. We have to pass a couple of checks. Make the tower Peter-proof. And we have to discuss whether or not we should adopt, to begin with," Bruce opened the fridge and fished out the creamer, handing it to him as he hummed thankfully in return
And this was why Tony liked Bruce. He thought through things, knew this was a team effort, knew that raising a kid meant something very different for everyone. The scientist knew enough to know why Tony had reacted the way he had to the kid, and Tony was forever grateful to not have to explain himself. He didn't have to explain that interacting with a kid meant unwillingly visualizing that kid with a black eye, wondering if that's what he had looked like when Jarvis would swoop in to treat the wound, not speaking a word to the raging, alcoholic father.
"You know Steve is going to want to know what happened. You know how serious he gets with this sort of stuff," Bruce casually stated, eyes connecting as Tony took a sip from the hot cup of coffee. The hot liquid burnt his tongue a little as he snorted in humor.
"I'll just explain it was the Arc Reactor or something. He'll believe it. Anything he can get his hands on so he doesn't have to worry," Tony bemused, walking over to the couch that Bruce had previously sat. He made himself comfortable as the scientist followed him, obviously not willing to give up on the conversation quite yet.
"It's not going to end well if you lie to him. He's not going to know you have a problem with kids, and then Peter is going to become part of our lives. Sooner or later, we both know Steve will find out. And he'll hate on himself for not picking up on it and letting a kid into our lives, and both of you will mope until something drastic happens. Because that's what you do."
Tony wanted to defend himself, state that this was most certainly not what they did. You had a goddamn war over a disagreement, his genius mind supplied, successfully stomping any argument he had. Mollified and slightly put off, Tony grunted into his coffee, looking away from Bruce who was now sitting next to him, and instead focusing his gaze on the tinted black windows. JARVIS was slowly lifting the black on the windows, revealing a growing sunrise to the two men in the communal living room. Bits of sun glinted off the glass table in front of them, sending a rainbow onto the carpeted floor. If he focused, he could watch the dust motes refract in the sunlight, lazily bobbing along without a care in the world. This wasn't the first time he wished he was a dust mote.
"You and I both know why I can't tell him," Tony muttered to the dust motes, feeling Bruce's gaze land on him as his tone turned serious and raw honesty, "This is Howard we're talking about. His friend. If Cap hadn't known him, I would have told him about my daddy issues way before I told him about my fear of caves or pools. This… This is just something I can't do to him. Howard never got over losing Cap, and Cap never hesitates to tell tales of Howard, and I just can't break that. Rogers needs those stories and I'm not about to ruin them."
There was a silence, heavier than any of the silences that had become between them thus far. This was something different. A silence that occurred whenever Tony got too personal. A silence that Bruce always seemed hesitant to break, as if wanting to hear more from Tony before the billionaire retreated and resorted back to vulgar jokes and innuendos.
He spared a look to his fellow scientist, whose eyes bore into his own as if he were trying to convey something very important; something that words couldn't capture.
"I don't know where anyone ever got the idea that you were a selfish man," Bruce stated, and Tony's heart felt a little bigger at the sincere words. He gave Dr. Banner a soft morning smile, who in turn gave Tony a warm pat on the shoulder and then watched the sunrise break over the New York clouds.
They sat there, watching the city slowly come to life, until Tony glanced at the clock and realized the Captain would be passing through shortly, coming back from his morning run for a hearty breakfast and some socialization. And even though he knew Bruce was right, knew that eventually he would have to talk to Rogers about what had happened, Tony wanted to prolong the inevitable for as long as he could. Hiding in the workshop or disappearing to the Avenger's Compound were Tony's common haunts when avoiding confrontation.
And it had worked in the past, when he freaked out over things that the All-American Capsicle didn't quite understand. The first time had been before the Avengers had even moved into the tower. It had happened a couple of years ago, before the Civil War and even before Ultron. It had been one of those rare summer days, where the temperature was just right and Tony hadn't screwed up any of his relationships with the team members just yet. They all were celebrating in the outdoor pool at the newly constructed compound, and god if that didn't seem like ages ago.
They had all been having a grand old time, Cap splashing around with Bruce and Thor in the pool, Natasha and Tony both watching on in amusement from their preferred dry seats. And honestly, Tony shouldn't have been surprised, because only a fool would take their eyes off of Clint Barton and fail to be concerned when the archer was nowhere to be seen. And he was a fool that day, because he was enjoying happiness and thinking about Pepper. Natasha's shout of warning hadn't registered in Tony's lazy brain fast enough before he had suddenly found himself in the water, his chair having been tipped over by the man with the bow himself.
Rogers and Thor must have been laughing, and maybe he had heard Bruce shout angrily and swim towards the soaked billionaire, but he hadn't been able to focus as his body was submerged in water and he found himself back in Afghanistan, not able to breathe and water threatening to invade his lungs.
He had eventually been pulled out of the pool, no help from Tony, shivering and whimpering as they dragged him out of the water. He had curled up into a ball as soon as his body had found cement, protecting himself from something that his teammates couldn't see. Clint had been profusely apologizing, his voice distant, and someone had reached out in an effort to comfort him, but Tony had flinched away, got to his feet, and rushed off, going to his workshop and continuing to hide there for another three days. The team eventually cornered him, and it felt too much like an intervention for Tony's liking. Evidently, the team discussion had been long and uncomfortable, and Tony was sure he had successfully memorized the shape of his shoes by the end of the meeting.
Except this time around of avoiding his problems, Captain Rogers only allowed him one day before deliberately going to find where Tony had sat himself this time. It was almost like their own little game of Hide-and Seek, except he really, really didn't want to be found.
He was in the library, reading one of the very many books on physics, trying to make any headway he could in regards to counteract magic villains. Of course, he hadn't been running into anything enlightening, which wasn't different than the ten other times Tony had read these books to find some answer to his questions. Bruce was making as much headway as him, which was to say none at all. He was successfully feeling burnt out, and was actually considering getting a few winks of sleep, when JARVIS ruined all plans of such.
"Sir, Captain Rogers is headed to your location," JARVIS announced. Tony cursed under his breath and launched off of the couch, hurriedly reaching the bookcase and stuffing the Physics book in the shelves haphazardly before rushing to the entrance, hoping to make it out before Ca-
"Tony?" a muffled voice spoke with a few soft knocks. Tony cursed the world, and specifically cursed JARVIS, who had alerted him too late, fully knowing that there would be no time for him to escape. For a brief second, he wondered if he could hide somewhere in the library, possibly fanangling his way under one of the plush couches. But Cap already knew Tony was in the library, and he would know that the genius was purposefully hiding, because again, JARVIS had given no time to escape.
"Shit. Fuck. Gonna kill… Worst AI… Reprogram his ass…" Tony grumbled in incomplete sentences, wrenching the library doors open.
Cap's fist was raised in the air, as if he had been about to knock again before Tony had opened the door. Obviously, the Captain had not expected him to actually answer,the surprise was written all over his face, from the raised eyebrows to the perfect "o" of his lips.
Resting on his hip sat Peter, Cap's arm around the kid to keep him comfortable and in place. The kid looked at Tony from his position on the good Captain's hip, with those big brown eyes that could melt supervillains and political figures' hearts, putting cute puppies to shame in the process.
Peter quickly ducked his head up against Cap's side, clutching at the man's shirt in a shyness that the child had not exhibited the first time they had met. Tony felt a small tug at his heart at the boy's reaction to seeing him. He had scared the little kid, and not for the first time did he curse himself for not being able to handle children.
"Hey Spangles. What's up?" he said, trying to go for a casual, slightly disinterested tone. However, the rapid tapping of his fingers against the door knob was a quick giveaway to the nervous energy he was trying to reign in.
"Hey Tony," Rogers greeted, sighing slightly as if he were relieved to see the mechanic. There was something about the way he was looking at him, something in those sky blues that made Tony want to run. They were soft and concerned, and he felt on display, those eyes making him feel vulnerable. He didn't like feeling vulnerable, much less in the presence of the six foot hunk of hero, "Peter has something he wants to say to you."
Peter squeaked at the mention of his name and clutched Cap's shirt tighter in his tiny fists, smashing his face into the man's side and attempting to become one with Captain Rogers' torso. It was obvious to Tony that the little boy, in fact, did not have something he wanted to say to him. But it seemed Rogers was having a parenting moment, and so he decided to indulge the Captain.
"Oh? What is it?" Tony asked, eyes flitting down to the boy who was really doing a good job at pretending he wasn't there. Even though he had barely even talked to the kid, he felt a sudden burst of pride run rampant in his chest. This kid was already a master in the art of avoiding, and although that might not have necessarily been a good thing to develop, Tony couldn't help but look in wonder.
However, Cap was obviously displeased with the evasion tactic. He leaned down and whispered something to Peter, detaching the boy from his shirt as he did so, gently lowering him down until the boy's small feet landed on the floor of the library. The two men shared a quick glance, Rogers nodding subtly at Tony to meet the kid half way.
With a stifled sigh, he crouched down to squat at Peter's level, much like he had done Saturday morning, "What's up, Pete?" the waver in his throat did not translate into his words, much to Tony's pleasure, and he watched as the kid shuffled his feet, examining the floor intently with his warm browns. He was already starting to breathe slightly lighter, not enjoying being so close to the child. And yet, he could do this, couldn't he? It was just a small human, and it would be really stupid if his kryptonite was the presence of a young human.
Peter muttered something under his breath, quiet enough that Tony couldn't hear it, but super soldier Rogers probably had.
"You're gonna have to speak up buddy," Cap prompted, the boy looking up at the man as he spoke before turning back to the older man crouching before him. Tony waited patiently, keeping his knee-jerk reaction to run in check as boy made eye contact with him.
"I'm sorry Mr. Iron Man," the kid looked so sincere that Tony almost had to look away, fearing his eyesight might be blinded as it would if one stared straight at the sun, "I'm sorry for making you sad."
His weak heart plummeted as he realized that Peter blamed himself for what had happened on that Saturday morning, had thought that Tony reacted the way he had because of the kid. Which wasn't actually wrong, it had been the kids fault, but the fault mainly befell to the arc reactor for its existence in his chest.
Peter must have seen something in the man's face, because he looked back down at the ground, bottom lip pouting and starting to tremble. And goddam, he might be bad with kids, but there was no way in hell one was going to cry because they thought he was angry.
"Pete, it's okay," and before he knew what he was doing, he was gently placing a calloused hand on the little shoulder. He felt panic settle in his throat, he was going to break the kid, his hand covered the whole freaking shoulder, but he couldn't take the hand away now, it was too late, holy shit what- "It wasn't your fault. It's just, the thing that you poked, this right here?" Tony points to the blue glowing circle, light slightly faded due to the black shirt he was wearing at the moment, "It hurts to touch."
Peter looked straight at the blue circle of which he was referring, staring at it as if it held all the secrets to his small universe. And damn this kid was so innocent, wasn't he? Because no one ever looked at the Arc Reactor unabashedly as the boy was in that moment. Most people avoided looking, and if they couldn't restrain themselves, they would only glance before quickly looking away. Because everyone understood where that circle came from, what it meant, what history it held. The nightmares that it held. But Peter didn't understand or know any of this, so as far as he was concerned, he could stare at the enticing blue circle to his heart's content.
Peter finally looks up at the older man, who is starting to flit his gaze from bookshelf to chair to bookshelf because this kid knows just how to make Tony uncomfortable.
"It hurts?" Peter repeats, demanding Tony's gaze fall back on him. He does as the boy silently commands, nodding to confirm Peter's words. A serious, no nonsense frown graced the small pink lips, and if Tony didn't know better, he would have guessed this was actually Cap's son, because that determined pout had an uncanny likeness to Cap's, "Have you put a bandaid on it?"
Tony tries to stifle his laugh, yet failing and responding in an amused snort. He can see the Captain smile sweetly out of the corner of his vision. It was obvious that Peter was concerned for Tony, and Captain Rogers was clearly enjoying the interaction between the two of them. Tony had to admit, it was admirable that Peter was trying to look after him, suggesting bandaids because that was what the boy had learned to use when one was hurt. Like a little boy scout in the making.
Tony prayed to a god he didn't believe in that this was not happening, because for fucks sake he could not handle another Steve Rogers and this kid was a living mini-Cap and why, why, WHY couldn't he have been more like Bruce why-
"Bandaids don't cut it, I'm afraid. Nor do the drugs-" Cap hummed in warning at this, but Tony had long since become immune to sounds of disapproval, "So until my booboo heals, no touching, okay? Are we goo-"
Apparently, they were not good with this, because instead of nodding and backing away, Peter leaned closer until his face made direct contact with the covered cold metal.
Tony went rigid and gripped the child's shoulders, eyes bugging as he looked frantically to the other man. Lungs constricted almost instantly, punching all air out of his gut and leaving him with the uncomfortable feeling of choking on nothing.
"Rogers," Tony wheezed, breath barely making it into his airway as he attempted to retract his grip from the so so small shoulders. Cap was shocked, standing still as if he didn't quite know what to do, which was evidently fine with Peter because he wasn't trying to struggle or make Tony let go of his hold on him. Instead, he held his face against the man's chest, Arc Reactor thrumming against the small rosy cheeks.
If Tony could have pushed, he would have, unapologetically hard. It would make Peter cry and he quite frankly didn't give a shit at that point, but he was frozen and couldn't move and wanted to scream and what the everloving fuck had he done to the world for him to be done so dirty like this?
Panic rose exponentially upward, and his calloused fingers twitched in their hold, and in a few short seconds flight would take control and shove, and-
A quiet smack of lips to the blue circle and Peter was moving away, stepping back as Tony's gaze fell to where the child had been only seconds before. Without realizing it, he unlatched a hand from Peter's right shoulder, bringing it to hover over the spot where the boy's lips had met his black t-shirt.
Of course, he knew. Knew that kisses were signs of affection that kids loved to dish out like birthday invitations. But Tony hadn't learned what a "kiss" was until a girl planted a big fat one on his cheek at the ripe age of nine, and nine years was a really long time to go without knowing what a kiss was, according to the girl that had introduced him to the subject. And it wasn't as if Mrs. Stark hadn't pecked a couple of bruises when Tony was little, but that was only ever when he had been hurt. Never for the act of kissing your son because you loved him. And his parents never really touched enough to add a romantic sense to the word.
Tony had been taught that kisses were painfully intimate. Special. Only to be received or given in times of probable death. He avoided kisses in all of his escapades. They were not something to be shared by people enjoying a nice, noncommittal one night stand.
And yet Peter had given a kiss without hesitation, as if Tony was deserving of that very small smack of lips.
"Kisses to make it better," the boy explained, catching the man's shocked gaze and holding it with sincere determination.
"I… Hm. Well." Tony tried to articulate, but even as he tried to speak, he didn't know what exactly he was wanting to say. Maybe something along the lines of 'please don't do that', or maybe 'we need to learn to stop touching the glowy blue thing', or possibly even 'what the fuck'. But nothing seemed to work around his heavy tongue, and all Tony was left to do was stare at the child as if he had grown a third eyeball and pronounced himself gay as the fourth of July.
"Peter," Tony raised his head up at the voice, and damn if this wasn't the oddest panic attack he had ever had, because instead of everything feeling unbearably fast, it all felt sluggish and heavy, "We aren't allowed to touch Mr. Iron Man's chest."
Peter's eyebrows furrowed at this, and pointed towards Tony, who was still blinking owlishly up at the super soldier, "But kisses make it better."
Captain Rogers softly smiled at this, before crouching down to meet them both at their level. He reached out a hand to gently smooth out Peter's hair, running small brown strands through fingers, and Tony wished someone would have done that for him, "I know kisses make it better, I know. But some people don't feel better with kisses."
Peter looked so horrified, crestfallen written all over his face. Tony quickly looked from the boy to the Captain, flinching when blue eyes met his in a meaningful look. Right. Parenting moment.
"I know you meant well by it, little guy," Tony spoke up, and Peter looked back at him with a new sadness in his warm brown eyes. It seemed like the ever recognizable expression of pity, and yet there was something more to it. Almost as if Pete was grieving for him rather than pitying him.
And then a hug, dear god this kid was going to be the death of him. But Tony let the hug happen because it was carefully placed around his waist, little arms not even remotely making the whole way around. It was obvious Peter was avoiding the reactor, face turned away and straining to resist the comfort he would find by laying it near the mechanic's weak heart.
Tony allowed himself a small, small smile, because this child was so worried about hurting him. Pete was not at all concerned that this should be the other way around, that the adult was supposed to be put together enough to be the comforter. He was concerned with making the older man feel loved. It was a wonder that Tony did not experience cardiac arrest right there in the library.
Soon, however, such mushy feelings dissipated the longer the boy held on. They were replaced by discomfort, and Tony's gaze met Cap's in a silent plead to be released. The super soldier must have gotten the message hidden within his deliberate signaling, and cleared his throat.
Peter stepped away at the noise Cap made and turned to the man, smiling brightly as if everything was better. He wished this was how the world worked, wished hugs could cure all. Yet, for a brief second, watching the true happiness spread on Pete's face, he could almost believe that everything really was suddenly right in the world.
The moment soon ended as the Captain picked Peter up and maneuvered him to a place on his hip once more. Tony rose off the floor as well, both men now standing in the tower's library.
He felt as though some words had to be exchanged. Possibly an apology for the way he had acted that Saturday morning, maybe a half hearted joke would suffice. But no words crawled their way up his throat, and he was left with a gaping mouth and the feeling of a lost sentence.
Captain Rogers smiled, smiled, so sweetly and softly at Tony. And yes, there was most likely pity in that smile, pity for his PTSD and anxiety and all the other demons Rogers knew about but never truly discussed with Tony. Yet he couldn't help but be totally floored by the genuine curve of soft pink lips that the good Captain was giving him.
Tony hesitantly shared a smile in return, and when Cap finally turned around to exit the library, he watched the soldier's broad back retreat down the hall. Sounds of soft, barefooted steps filled the empty hall, and warm smiles were shared between the pair as they left. The man rubbed his nose affectionately against Peter's, the boy could be faintly heard giggling and protesting his 'big nose'.
For a second, watching until they turned the corner and disappeared, Tony allowed himself to call the man Steve.
He rarely let his mind associate 'Steve' to the super soldier. 'Steve' was only ever allowed in very specific moments. 'Captain America' referred to the man that showed himself on the battlefield and when they had first met. 'Captain Rogers' was for the man that organized team building exercises and reminded everyone to get healthy amounts of sleep. 'Rogers' was reserved for the man who had shoved his shield in the Arc Reactor and had left Tony to freeze. 'Capsicle' and 'Spangles' and everything in between was reserved for the man who watched Star Wars for the first time on Thursday Team Movie Night; the man who laughed at subtly dirty jokes despite blushing like the virgin Mary herself. And 'Steve'... 'Steve' was reserved for the man that made Tony's throat clench and caused a smile to effortlessly weasel it's way on his lips without him noticing. 'Steve' was saved for times when Tony couldn't pretend he wasn't a tiny bit attracted to the Star Spangled Man.
He quickly shoved that out his mind, knowing that didn't need any attention, and left the library, closing the doors with a silent click behind him before heading down to Bruce's lab.
Tony was already in the elevator when he realized, dread snuggling itself nice and cozy in the pit of his stomach, he had not told Cap that the Arc Reactor hadn't been the issue at all.
