Hello! Welcome to my new superfamily story. This takes place five months after the end of Chasing Demons, and is a continuation of my Pieces of Echoes series. For those of you not familiar with that series, the essential tenets are that Steve was recovered from the Arctic ice approximately two years earlier than in canon, and was sent with Rhodey to search for Tony and Peter in Afghanistan following their kidnapping. After recovering the Starks and being assigned to be their bodyguard by SHIELD, Steve and Tony fell in love and were married.
Current Ages:
Tony - 27 when Peter was born. Turned 39 while being held in Afghanistan. 39 during Loki's invasion (almost 40). 40 at his wedding (about a month before his 41st birthday). Currently 43.
Peter - 11 when kidnapped in Afghanistan. 12 during Loki's invasion (almost exactly one year later). 15 when he left the school dance to go find Steve in Georgia. Currently 16 (recently turned).
Steve - 91/ 27 when he found Tony and Peter in Afghanistan. 92/ 28 at wedding (turned 93/ 29 about nine weeks later). Currently 95/ 31.
"And for more information about this strange space phenomenon, we go to our on-site reporter, Jackson Murphy. Jackson, what more can you tell us?"
"Honey, why're you still watching that stuff?" Tony asked as he emerged from the bathroom, ready for bed in Steve's favourite bright blue sleep pants and a black tank top that was probably older than Peter. It wasn't at all unusual for Steve to be watching the news before bed. When they weren't on a mission there was always at least one television on in the house while Steve was awake, tuned in to his favourite news station. He liked to call it minding his surroundings, and while it made sense to Tony, it didn't mean that he particularly enjoyed it.
And he enjoyed it even less when said news was reporting on whatever goofy space phenomena had occurred over Africa. Ever since he'd stumbled upon an entire space-faring army just waiting to invade Earth during his emergency missile flight through Loki's portal, Tony had adamantly decided that he had seen all he'd needed of space, thank you very much.
It was an image that, even almost four years later, he still couldn't shake no matter how hard he tried. And he had tried.
"Steve?" Tony repeated, pausing a few steps in to toss his hand towel in the general direction of the laundry hamper. "I thought Fury already told you that we didn't need to worry about it?"
"Yeah, he did," Steve muttered. The worry wrinkle between his perfect dark blond eyebrows was on full display as he glowered at the screen, an abandoned dog-eared novel sitting on his lap. Apparently the Jackson Murphy dude didn't have much of anything to add to the already low-on-details event.
"And?" Tony asked as he set his glasses down on the bedside table, right next to his tablet and Steve's dog tags. He climbed up onto the bed, sliding over to lean his head against Steve's arm. It'd been a long day, and he was tired.
Steve huffed out a frustrated sigh as he wound his arm around Tony's shoulders. "There's no new information, and judging by where in Africa the event occurred, there probably won't be any anytime soon. Director Fury told me that this country, Wakanda, doesn't talk to the outside world all that much."
"Mmm. Yeah, I've heard that about Wakanda," Tony said. "They're about as isolationist as they come. I used to hear Howard grumbling about them every now and then back in the day."
"I'm not surprised," said Steve. "Did you see that he tried to convince the government to try and open scientific diplomatic channels a few times when he was with SHIELD?"
Tony draped his arm across Steve's waist, burrowing closer as he closed his eyes and breathed in his husband's intoxicating scent, ivory soap and the slight hint of vanilla that always seemed to seep from his skin. Whoever thought that the plain, ten-cents-a-bar ivory soap could smell so damn good?
"Pretty sure it was Pete who discovered that little tidbit in the HYDRA files, honey, along with all the other stuff he wasn't supposed to be reading," Tony murmured, stifling a yawn. "Makes sense though. I bet all the rumours floating around about the super cool Wakandan tech just about drove Howard bonkers. You know he always wanted to have his fingers in every single pie he could find, and I know it always bugged the hell out of him that he could never get his hands on more of their magical metal."
Steve's eyes flicked over to the red, white, and blue shield propped up against the wall right next to their bedroom door. Tony had offered many times to build him a stand or something to hook it on when Steve wasn't using it, but Steve always refused. He'd told Tony that during the war he had always stored the shield right by the door—when he was actually able to sleep in a building, that is—and, like everything else about Steve, old habits apparently died hard.
"Yeah, I bet it did," Steve said softly. He narrowed his eyes at the screen as the reporter launched into yet another meandering statement regarding the unexplained phenomenon that had taken place high in the skies over Wakanda. Tony sighed, trying to ignore the high-pitched, nasally drone of the reporter's voice as he repeated himself for the third time.
"Honey, if Fury said whatever the hell this was isn't an Avengers-level threat, then why are you watching it?" he asked. "You know it's just gonna make it harder for you to get to sleep. And don't you try and give me that big song and dance about how you don't need as much sleep as me, 'cause you know it's just a bunch of bullshit."
"No, it's not," Steve said, rather petulantly. "In fact, according to Dr Cho, it's actually—"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, enough already," said Tony. "The fact still remains that Fury told you that whatever this was doesn't need to concern us, and yet you're still making it our concern."
"Fury said he didn't think it was, Tony," Steve said. "And he also said that so far none of the SHIELD scientists have a clue what it was either, so—"
"So tell him to send all the data they've managed to compile over to Bruce's lab, and he and I can take a look at it in the morning after we get Pete to school, yeah?" said Tony. He tipped his head up, planting a kiss on Steve's jaw. "Problem solved."
Steve gave a sheepish nod. "I already did. Bruce is expecting you at nine."
Tony chuckled. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I didn't have any other plans in the morning." It wasn't actually the truth. He'd been planning on working on the new nanotech suit he'd been building ever since their return to the Tower at the end of August, but he supposed that could wait long enough for him and Bruce to have a good look-see at whatever data Fury's scientists happened to have.
Especially if it helped to ease his husband's mind a bit. After Steve's month-long sejour in the almost-invisible HYDRA prison five months ago, Tony was still hyper-aware of anything he and the rest of the team could do to help shoulder some of Steve's mental burden. Tony—with Peter's help—had made sure that Steve kept his regular weekly therapy sessions with Sam Wilson, but knowing Steve as well as he did, Tony found it unlikely that he was allowing himself to work through the trauma he had endured as well as he should.
Apparently you could take the super soldier out of the 1940s, but you couldn't take the 1940s out of the super soldier. And judging by the fact that Steve still tried to brush Tony off whenever he asked if he was okay, Steve still had a long way to go.
"Honey, please," Tony said gently as the reporter launched into yet another monologue about the mysteries of the Wakandan nation, complete with brightly-coloured cringey slideshow graphics. "I know you're tired, and this isn't helping anything. No one knows enough about Wakanda to even make a semi-educated guess about what happened, so this is really just a waste of our time."
Steve huffed out an annoyed breath. "Yeah, I guess so. JARVIS, can you please turn off the television?"
"Of course, Captain," replied JARVIS. "Would you like me to continue recording this news coverage?"
"No—" Tony started.
"Yes, please, JARVIS," Steve cut in. He gave Tony an apologetic look, earning a dismissive shrug in response. "Thank you."
"You are most welcome, Captain."
"Nice one, babe," Tony said with a scowl. "Now you'll just end up watching it when I'm not around."
Steve's shoulders sagged, and Tony felt a sharp pang of remorse as worry spiked in his blue eyes, worry that seemed to have taken up permanent residence ever since their battle against the certifiably looney-tunes combination of Obadiah Stane and Aldrich Killian down in their Miami bunker. Tony wasn't sure if it'd been more difficult for Steve to have to watch as both he and Peter fought for their lives after that battle, or for he and Peter to have been in the dark about Steve's whereabouts for an entire month after his capture by HYDRA, but he did know without a doubt that both instances absolutely sucked, and that he had absolutely no desire to ever go through anything like that ever again.
And yet, like he'd told Steve many times since the beginning of the Avengers Initiative, they didn't exactly have desk jobs. The very nature of their team and its combined strength only served to invite stronger and stronger challenges, and that worried Tony. Despite the fact that they'd recently added two new team members in the Maximoff twins—and he supposed Peter as well, although both he and Steve were still vehemently opposed to naming him an official Avenger—Tony was pretty concerned about what sort of challenges lay ahead.
Okay, maybe "concerned" wasn't actually the right word. It was more like he was scared shitless. Tony's worst fear was that some threat would come along—evil space-faring armies, anyone?—that would be somehow even more terrible than what they'd been through already, and he would end up losing one or both of his beloved boys. There had already been way too many times where he'd come too close for comfort.
Which was why Tony had been so gung-ho about getting his new nanotechnology to work. Since the government had put an ixnay on his defence drone technology, saying it would set a "bad global tone" after the recent HYDRA upheaval, being able to carry a fully functional suit of armour around inside a handy-dandy little storage case at all times would help him feel a lot better about whatever possible threats were in the works. After being forced to wait on his armour too many times while his boys were in danger, Tony was already beyond frustrated that it'd taken as long as it had to figure it out. He was very close, he could tell, but still not quite close enough.
But he wasn't about to say all that to Steve. Steve already had enough to worry about, as evidenced by the tight line of his jaw and the sorry state of his beautiful blue eyes.
Stupid unexplained space phenomena, he thought bitterly. Even if it did turn out to be something innocuous, Tony knew Steve wasn't going to be able to let it go for a while.
Can't we catch a break every now and then?
"Sorry, hon," Tony muttered. He gave Steve's hip what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze. "I shouldn't've said that."
I'm just too damn afraid to lose you again.
Because if Tony had been in possession of such a suit on that night, the night of their ill-fated second anniversary dinner, just sitting there waiting in its little containment pack under his shirt where the arc reactor used to be, there would've been no way in hell that those goddamn HYDRA goons could've taken Steve away from him like they did.
For an entire month they kept him, drugging and torturing him to such an extent that Tony was positive that the only way Steve had managed to keep himself alive was out of sheer stubbornness. By the time Peter discovered HYDRA's hidden base and alerted the rest of the team to Steve's location, he was so badly injured and otherwise out of it that when he first laid eyes on Tony after the ensuing battle, he honestly believed him to be yet another HYDRA apparition.
An entire month. A month that felt like a century.
He felt Steve's lips press against the top of his head. "Tony, it's all right," he whispered. "I'm right here."
Tony's throat tightened, and he squeezed his eyes closed, refusing to respond. Even after being together for four years and married for two and a half, it still amazed him at times how well Steve could read him.
It also spooked him a bit, if he was completely honest. Tony had always prided himself on being able to keep himself emotionally closed off, with only Peter being allowed inside the massive iron walls he had so carefully built around his heart. Walls that Steve then managed to tear down a chunk at a time beginning only a few days after they met, right in the middle of the godforsaken Afghanistan desert.
"Sweetheart?" Steve asked, nudging Tony softly on the shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Tony said quickly, ignoring Steve's skeptical frown. "Now, go on and get ready for bed already, will ya? I'm tired."
"All right." Steve pressed another kiss to Tony's forehead for good measure before sliding off the bed, the strong muscles in his arms, back, and shoulders rippling deliciously. As soon as he'd crossed the spacious room to the bathroom, Tony flopped onto his stomach, burying his face into Steve's pillow and breathing in. It was an extremely poor substitute for the man himself, but it would do well enough until he came back.
"JARVIS, is Pete okay?" he asked once his lungs decided they'd had enough. Tony had checked in on Peter on the way to their room and found him completely conked out, but…
"Master Peter is currently sleeping peacefully, sir," answered JARVIS. "All vital signs are within his normal parameters."
Tony nodded, offering a quick, "Thanks, J," before smooshing his face back into the pillow, wishing like hell that JARVIS didn't have to make such a distinction. His normal parameters, the UI had said. Not just anyone's normal parameters, but specific to Peter himself due to the gene mutation that began expressing itself shortly after he turned twelve. With dangerous body temperature drops always a concern due to the spider DNA embedded inside his own, Peter's bedroom was kept at a balmy twenty-seven Celsius, and even that higher temp required him to sleep in pyjamas that would've had Tony roasting in about three minutes flat. He and Steve's bedroom was kept at a cool twenty-three Celsius, the perfect temperature to allow them to cuddle together while they slept without the risk of either of them overheating.
As soon as Tony heard Steve shut off the water, he rolled back over, assuming his usual position as Steve asked JARVIS to turn off the lights and slid under the blankets next to him. Draping his arm across Tony's waist, Steve curled his tall, strong body around him, pressing him as closely as their sleeping clothes would allow. Steve was shirtless, as he always was, and Tony delighted in the feel of his husband's soft, smooth skin against his, and the spearminty scent of his breath.
"Is there a reason why you're wearing a shirt tonight?" Steve gently asked a few seconds later, pinching the almost threadbare fabric of Tony's tank top between his fingers. "'Cause if it's because you're cold, I doubt this thing is gonna help all that much."
"Mmm," muttered Tony, once again cursing the fact that Steve could read him like a book even in the near-darkness. Like Steve, Tony always—usually—slept bare-chested, so as to maximise skin-to-skin contact with his beloved.
How in the hell does he do that?
"Just… felt like it, I guess. Didn't even think."
Tony had always called Steve a terrible liar, because he was. Both he and Peter, their eyes were simply incapable of perpetuating any type of falsehood. But apparently Tony's once-proficient ability to spin stories to his advantage had slipped badly in the last few years when Steve shifted up onto his elbow, tilting Tony's chin up to look at him.
"Hey," he whispered. "Tell me what's going on."
Embarrassment washed over Tony as he tried to tear his eyes away, but, like usual, the intensity of Steve's gaze held him locked in place.
"Please, don't do that," he said. "Tell me."
"I did already," Tony croaked. "I didn't—"
"No, you told me what you thought I wanted to hear," said Steve. He trailed his fingertips along Tony's cheekbone, the touch just as feather-light as he was strong. "Right?"
Tony pursed his lips, his eyebrows knitting together into a severe frown. It really was ridiculous, and he knew it. He knew that Steve loved him beyond reason no matter what, scars and all. He had absolutely no reason at all to doubt him.
But sometimes, he just couldn't help it.
"That's what I thought," Steve whispered as he dipped his head, brushing his lips so lightly across Tony's that at first he thought he might've imagined it. He pulled back, his blue eyes intense as they bored into Tony's, while his free hand slid down Tony's front, fiddling with the frayed hem of the tank top.
"Can I?" he asked, so sincerely that one might've thought it was their first night together. Tony's eyes burned with tears as he gulped, finally nodding a few heartbeats later. Slowly, Steve slipped his fingers underneath the worn fabric, sliding his palm back up Tony's stomach and chest as the tank top pooled over his wrist, finally working it over Tony's head and tossing it aside.
"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," Steve murmured just before claiming Tony's lips. The kiss was sweet and almost chaste, with Steve's tongue running across Tony's lips just before he pulled away to trail kisses down his jaw and neck to his chest, and the kaleidoscope of scars directly over his sternum. Having met Tony when he did, Steve had never seen him without the scars, first with the arc reactor and then without, and while intellectually Tony knew that the sorry condition of his chest never bothered Steve, he sometimes couldn't help but wish that they would just go away already.
Tony was married to a super soldier, a blond, blue-eyed living legend with a nearly perfect—okay, actually all perfect—body. And how Steve could possibly desire an old, scarred man like himself still floored him.
"Please, don't think like that," Steve murmured as he brushed his thumb across Tony's nipple, earning a gasp in response. "Tá tú chomh taibhseach, agus tá an oiread sin grá agam duit."
"Okay, now that's just not fair," Tony said, gasping again as Steve's tongue flicked across his other nipple. Tony's fingers wove into Steve's thick blond hair as he kissed across to the mass of scars, laving his lips and tongue over them. "You know how damn sexy you are when you start talking dirty to me."
He felt Steve grin against his skin. "Pretty sure I wasn't," he said. "In fact, I'm almost positive that you know exactly what I said."
"You are so gorgeous, and I love you."
"Mmm, maybe." Tony let out a positively wanton moan, heat spreading across him like a blanket as Steve's hand slid down his abdomen to his sleep pants, tracing along the rolled waistband.
"Aren't these mine?" Steve asked as he tugged lightly on the bunched-up elastic.
"Yeah. So?" answered Tony. He bit down on his bottom lip as Steve's deft artist's fingers worked their way underneath the pants and Tony's boxer briefs, still deliberately avoiding his already straining erection.
Leave it to Steve, who had been just about as pure as freshly fallen snow before he met Tony, to quickly become the biggest tease Tony had ever been with.
"You gave up all the rights to your wardrobe the second you married me, honey," Tony said, groaning in frustration as Steve once again refused to touch him where he needed him most. "What's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine, right? The fact that you can't fit this god-like body of yours into anything of mine is completely beside the point."
Steve chuckled, his lips now trailing down to meet his fingers, still trailing back and forth across the sensitive skin of Tony's waist.
"Then it's a good thing I like to see you wearing my clothes," he murmured. He planted an open-mouthed kiss right at Tony's navel, briefly dipping his tongue inside. "Tell me what you want, mo grá. Ba mhaith liom tú a shásamh."
Emotion welled up inside Tony, so strongly that one of the tears he'd been trying to hold back finally escaped, rolling its way down his cheek. Steve's words, spoken in the old Irish language he used to speak with his ma back when it wasn't really all that cool to be a young Irish lad in New York, were the perfect soothing balm to his insecure soul. Tony could still remember his shock when Steve first spoke in the language to him, during their honeymoon. After watching Steve frolic in the clear blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea all afternoon, his hair soaking wet and his sun-kissed skin dotted with water droplets, Tony hadn't believed that his husband could possibly get any sexier.
And he had been wrong. So very, very wrong.
I want to please you, Steve's words said. Because even now, after two-plus years of marriage, Steve still always asked Tony what he wanted.
"Oh, Christ, Steve, you always please me," Tony whispered. "You don't—you don't have to do anything—"
"I know, but what if I want to?" Steve asked, rather cheekily. His chin came to rest in the dip of Tony's hipbone, his beautiful face flushed and eager. "What if I want to make my husband feel good? What if I want to show my husband that he's the most beautiful man in the entire world?"
"Pretty sure that's my line you just stole, babe," said Tony. "And, anyways—"
He was silenced by Steve's mouth, claiming his in a kiss that had none of the chasteness or gentleness of his earlier kisses. Steve's teeth nipped at Tony's lips as his tongue swept inside his mouth, tasting him as his fingers trailed back down Tony's chest and abdomen to finally, blessedly, curl around Tony's aching cock.
"Would you like my hand or my mouth, sweetheart?" Steve asked as he kissed down to Tony's neck, sucking gently on his pulse point as his hand slowly stroked Tony's cock, sending more bursts of heat across his body. Tony moaned at the sensation, gliding his hands down Steve's sides to his glorious ass as Steve pressed their foreheads together.
"Just like this," Tony rasped as he rolled his hips up against Steve's, with Steve's answering groan nearly causing him to climax right then and there. Tony knew Steve had had no intention of asking Tony to return the favour, but there was no way Tony was going to pass up a chance to see his gorgeous husband let go.
"I want you to come too," he said, hooking his knees over Steve's hips. "Together."
A light smile stretched across Steve's lips as he nodded, reaching over to his bedside table for a bottle of lube as Tony worked Steve's sleep pants down just far enough to free his erection. Then Steve squeezed a generous amount of the lube into his palm and wrapped his long fingers around both of their cocks, their combined groans sending ripples of pleasure down Tony's spine.
"Together," Steve said as his eyes locked with Tony's again, nearly blown black as his strokes slowly gained speed. "You're so beautiful, mo grá, and I love you so much. Please don't ever think you need to hide your body from me."
"Steve," Tony said, his breath hitching as the pleasure coiled deep in his gut, his fingertips digging into the hard flesh of Steve's ass. "Baby, 'm so close, I'm gonna—!"
He was there, and then he wasn't, yanked down over the precipice by the deep, loud moan that rumbled up from Steve's chest as they both came all over Tony's stomach. For a moment it was as though Tony forgot how to breathe at the sheer beauty of Steve's face staring down at him in the pale, bluish light of their bedroom, his hair all mussed up and his lips kiss-swollen.
He looked positively debauched, and Tony was convinced there was not a more glorious sight in all the universe.
"Come here, honey," Tony murmured once he felt capable of speech, winding his arms around Steve's neck. He pressed a long kiss to Steve's lips before tucking his head under his chin, stroking his fingers through the hair on the back of his neck.
Tony sure didn't know what he'd done to deserve such a man, but he was definitely grateful to have him.
"These are not ugly, Tony," Steve said a couple minutes later, brushing his lips across the worst of Tony's scars. "These scars tell a story, one that demonstrates your tenacity, your genius, and your love for our son. They represent your absolute refusal to give up under the most frightening of circumstances, and for that, I'll always be grateful for them. I wouldn't have found you and Peter without them."
"No, I guess you wouldn't've," Tony forced past the lump in his throat. While he supposed it was possible that he and Steve would've run into each other at some point after he was found in the Arctic ice, they probably wouldn't have been thrown together in such a way that would've led to Peter latching onto Steve like a baby koala, paving the way for Tony to fall head over heels for a man he'd always believed he despised.
And Tony shuddered to think how in the hell Steve would've been able to adjust to the twenty-first century without Peter's help. Everything from learning how to use a microwave to shopping for groceries and clothes to using a smartphone and driving a modern car, in those earliest days it had been Peter who Steve had leaned on the most. One of the fondest memories Tony still had of his two boys was that first night that Steve made dinner for the three of them at the Malibu house, and both he and Peter regaled Tony with stories about their afternoon adventures in the pool as they all ate together.
He hadn't wanted to admit it, but that had been the first time he'd been able to picture the three of them together, as a real family.
And little did Tony know just what kind of rollercoaster they were stepping on. One that over four years later, still hadn't stopped.
"Steve, c'mere," Tony said softly. He tugged on Steve's hair, bringing his head up so he could kiss him. "I'm—I'm—"
He was silenced by Steve's fingers, brushing softly across his lips. "No apologies, okay?" he whispered. "I love you."
Tony gave a single nod. "I love you too, babe. 'Cept now we have to get cleaned up before we end up getting stuck together."
Steve chuckled, pressing one final kiss to Tony's lips. "I'll be right back."
Sliding off the bed, Steve made his way back to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth to clean the mess from Tony's stomach. Then he crawled back under the covers, this time positioning Tony with his head resting on his chest so Tony could hear his heartbeat.
"JARVIS, can you please delete that news footage?" Steve asked. "I won't be needing it after all."
"Steve—"
"Of course, Captain," said JARVIS. "Footage has been archived."
"Honey, you didn't have to do that," protested Tony.
"If it helps you sleep, then it's worth it," Steve said softly. "I'm sure whatever you and Bruce come up with will be of more use anyway."
Tony smirked. "Why, honey, are you trying to insinuate that Bruce and I are smarter than a bunch of vultures—I mean… news people?"
"I'm pretty sure I wasn't insinuating anything, sweetheart." Steve pressed another kiss to Tony's forehead, his fingers trailing lightly up and down Tony's bare side. "Sleep now. I know you're tired."
"Mmm, yep." Tony was tired, and now that his entire body was buzzing with the post-coital fuzzies, he thought he might actually be able to fall asleep without trying to solve all of the world's problems beforehand.
"'Night, babe."
"Goodnight, mo grá. I love you."
"So, George Stacy told me that he won't be able to make it to the Mets game this coming Thursday," Sam said as he and Steve jogged to a stop outside of the Tower's main entrance. "Something about a school performance for one of his boys, so Bucky and I will have an extra ticket if you wanna come."
"Ah, sure," Steve answered. He grabbed two bottles of Powerade from the newsstand set up in the lobby, exchanging pleasantries with the elderly Korean War vet who ran it while he paid. Tony had set up an ongoing weekly donation to the newsstand that Steve knew more than covered the cost of he and Sam's daily Powerade bottles, but Steve wasn't about to use that as an excuse.
"Let me double-check with Tony first, but it should be fine," added Steve. He popped the cap on his Powerade, taking a long drink as they headed towards the bank of elevators. "Thursdays Peter stays late at school for Robotics Lab, so I'll just have to make sure that we have a backup available to pick him up if Tony gets delayed."
"Yeah, I figured," said Sam. "Just let me know. It's playoff time, so it should be a good game."
"Oh wow, is it really that time already?" Steve asked. Of course he'd noticed that the weather was cooling down and the days were getting shorter, but somehow the last five months or so had seemed to pass both at a snail's pace and in the blink of an eye, and that both surprised and unnerved Steve. He didn't enjoy being so jarred by something as simple as the passage of time. It tended to remind him far too much of waking up alone in that mockup 1940s hospital room back in the old SHIELD headquarters, not realising that he'd just been asleep for the last sixty-plus years.
"Steve?" Sam asked, startling Steve from his thoughts. "You still with me?"
"Yeah, yeah, Sam, sorry," Steve said dismissively, ignoring Sam's skeptical raised eyebrow. "Just… seems like the days are just kinda flying by lately. I mean, I could've sworn it was just a few months ago that Peter was teaching me how to use a credit card, and now all of a sudden I'm teaching him how to drive on the weekends."
Sam let out a chuckle as he took a drink of his Powerade. "Pretty sure you're not alone in that sentiment, Cap. I don't think any of us are used to how much that kid has grown lately."
"Well, that makes me feel a bit better," Steve said as the doors to the penthouse elevator slid open. "I'll let you know about the game, okay?"
"Sure thing," Sam said with a nod. "See ya later."
Steve leaned back against the elevator wall as it began its ascent up to the topmost floor of the Tower. He hadn't wanted to get into it with Sam right after their run, but he was really starting to worry about Tony. Ever since they'd returned from their late summer vacation to Ireland, Steve had noticed that Tony's sleep was getting worse. It didn't help that his own sleep still wasn't all that great, often filled with horrifying images of him battling Tony hand-to-hand as Tony mercilessly taunted him, images he knew were the result of his torture at HYDRA's hands. Sam had told him multiple times that it would take some time for those images to fade, and perhaps even longer due to his eidetic memory, but Steve wasn't concerned about himself. As much as Tony tried to deny it, he was suffering, and Steve was at a loss as to how to help him. As it was, Tony had spent a good portion of their sleeping time working in his lab after being awoken by yet another bad dream, only returning to the bed after Steve had begged him, telling him that he couldn't sleep well without him. It was the truth; Steve never slept well without Tony next to him, but he still felt guilty about it. Both he and Tony had fallen into some pretty bad coping habits following the battle in the Miami bunker, and Steve was afraid that he and Tony were starting to slip right back into those patterns.
Even as most of the time they seemed to be the only options available.
"JARVIS, are Peter and Tony awake yet?" Steve asked as the elevator continued its climb. Tony had been sound asleep when Steve's alarm had gone off ninety minutes earlier, so Steve had taken extra care not to disturb him as he readied for his run. Steve also knew that Peter had his own schedule of alarms to wake him up, but he always felt it prudent to check up on him anyway. With how fast Peter had been growing lately he'd been sleeping like a rock at night, and was often pretty difficult to rouse.
"Master Peter is currently enjoying his third bowl of Lucky Charms in the kitchen, Captain," replied JARVIS. "However, Mr Stark is still asleep. Would you like me to wake him?"
Steve grinned, guzzling down the rest of his Powerade. Peter knew how to make himself a more substantial breakfast than cold cereal, but, like his father, he was often too sleepy or too distracted in the mornings to reach for anything other than his usual.
Which was why they often had to buy Lucky Charms by the palette.
"No, thanks, JARVIS, I'll do it myself once I get cleaned up. Can you please tell Peter that I'm almost there?"
"Of course, Captain."
He found Peter hunched over his computer at the breakfast bar, the counter covered with splatters of milk and marshmallows as he giggled through a mouthful of cereal.
"Good morning, little guy," Steve said as he ruffled Peter's curly hair. "What's so funny?"
"Oh, just another prank that Pietro and Wanda pulled on Uncle Clint while he was napping yesterday afternoon," answered Peter. "This time Wanda tried to film it, but Pietro's moving so fast all you can see is Uncle Clint's hair blowing in the breeze." He swallowed his mouthful, popping a stray marshmallow into his mouth. "Uncle Clint's face is pretty funny though. See?"
Steve leaned closer as Peter shifted the laptop towards him, chuckling as he watched Clint wake up from his spot on the Compound's living room couch to find his entire complement of arrows arranged in a sort of elaborate pyramid shape across his torso, essentially pinning him to the cushions. It was funny, and something he could definitely see the twins thinking up.
"He wasn't too upset with them, was he?" asked Steve as Clint started yelling for Natasha to come and help him up as Wanda and Pietro giggled in the background.
"He definitely didn't see that coming," Steve heard Pietro whisper.
"Oh, no, he wasn't really mad," said Peter. "You know Uncle Clint likes to act all gruff and stuff, but he's really a big softie when it comes down to it. And Pietro and Wanda told me that he and Auntie Nat are almost as overprotective as you and Dad."
"Well, they've got twice the amount of trouble than Dad and I do," Steve said. "But Uncle Clint and Auntie Nat are definitely excellent surrogate parents. Nat told me yesterday that she got a call from one of Wanda's teachers, telling her how well she seemed to be fitting in with her class." Steve didn't add that hearing that news had brightened his entire day. After being held captive for months in the same HYDRA prison as Steve, he'd had some serious concerns that the twins would be able to easily rejoin society. He'd been especially concerned about Wanda, since she had been forced to participate in Steve's torture and had directly witnessed the death of her father at HYDRA's hands. She had even forced Peter to see some pretty horrible things after he infiltrated the prison, visions that still sometimes haunted him while he slept.
And, like Tony, he didn't particularly enjoy talking about them.
But apparently the twins, and Clint and Natasha, were settling in pretty well up at the Compound. The four of them had spent most of the summer on Clint's sister-in-law's farm in Indiana, returning to the Compound just before the start of the school year. Since upstate New York was a lot more like Indiana than Manhattan was, the team had decided that it would be best for Clint and Nat to take up year-round residence at the Compound so the twins could attend school up there.
"That's good," said Peter, just before downing the extra milk from his bowl. Then he wiped his chin with the sleeve of his oversized sweatshirt, wincing when he noticed Steve's raised eyebrow. "Sorry, Papa. Um… I'll get a napkin."
"They do exist for a reason, little guy," Steve said. "Do you know if Dad's awake yet?"
"No, I haven't seen him yet," Peter said with a shrug. "Usually he's been in here for coffee at least once already, but JARVIS said he was still sleeping a few minutes ago."
"That's okay, I'll go and check on him now," Steve said. He patted Peter on the shoulder. "Did you remember to pack your snacks?"
Peter's eyes went wide. "Uhh, can you ask me that again in a few minutes?"
"Sure, little guy," Steve said with a short laugh. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up now, okay? Be ready to go when I get back."
"Uh huh."
Steve shook his head in amusement as he headed down the hallway towards the bedroom. Peter was so much like Tony. So much so that Steve felt like he frequently got little glimpses of what Tony could've been like as a teen if he'd had a more supportive home life. While Tony had told Steve that he'd adored his mother, his father, Howard, was at best a distant and neglectful father and at worst emotionally—and occasionally physically—abusive. And, based on what Tony had told Steve about his mother, it honestly seemed to Steve that she hadn't been the most attentive parent either, often leaving Tony solely in the care of the family's butler, Mr Jarvis, the man who had inspired Tony to create his UI.
And then there'd been Obadiah Stane, the man who'd tried for years to mould Tony into the perfect Iron Monger war profiteer, and then arranged to have him and Peter kidnapped by the Ten Rings after Tony tried to push back. Steve still couldn't even think of the man's name without white-hot rage flooding his body, along with a hefty dose of fear at how close he had come to losing his husband and son forever.
Tony had told Steve numerous times that he'd never had any intentions of becoming a father, and especially not after having his heart broken by Peter's mother, an undercover SHIELD agent sent by Nick Fury to evaluate Tony. Steve had heard the story of the night Peter was born many times, mostly at his request. Since he didn't get to meet Peter until he was already eleven years old, Steve loved hearing stories about when Peter was a baby and younger child, and especially about how much Tony had adored him from day one. From the moment Tony laid eyes on Peter as a tiny baby, he was hooked. Born prematurely and suffering from underdeveloped lungs, Peter spent several weeks in the hospital after he was born, during which Tony didn't leave his side for longer than a few minutes, a protectiveness that hadn't waned at all in the sixteen years since. Tony was so head over heels for his sweet boy that Steve had no doubt that he would move heaven and Earth in order to keep him safe.
Tony called it breaking the cycle of shame, and Steve couldn't agree more. Steve had been drawn to both of the Starks from the very moment Nick Fury first showed him their pictures in their SHIELD files, promising Fury that he would search for them until he found them, no matter how long it took.
And he had. Thanks to Tony's ingenuity and determination while being held prisoner, Steve and James had managed to find them in the middle of that massive desert, and with not a moment to spare. In fact, it was Tony's desperate pleas for Peter to stay with him that had finally alerted Steve to their location. Peter had stopped breathing only seconds before, and his blue lips and freezing-cold skin as he laid limply in Tony's arms were Steve's first clues that he was in very serious trouble.
And even now, after all the time that had passed, Steve could still hear the echo of Tony's panicked cries in his mind as he attempted to get Peter to take a breath, terrified that he was going to lose the son that he loved more than anything. Tony had later told Steve flat-out that if Peter had died there in that endless sea of sand, he would've refused to go back with them. He would've blamed himself for Peter's death, and all of his will to live would've vanished.
Another sentiment that Steve could now understand. The weeks that he and Tony had spent in uncertainty that Peter would ever recover from his injuries sustained during the Miami battle had been even more tortuous than his captivity in the HYDRA bunker, and something that Steve absolutely never wanted to go through again. Like Tony, Peter was a part of Steve's very soul, and to lose him would be to lose one of the best parts of himself.
It was that reason that Steve and Tony had refused Peter's numerous requests to officially join the Avengers. While they were both impressed by Peter's abilities as Spider-Man, the name he'd coined for himself after his genetic mutation was discovered, participating in closed training sessions with the team was a far cry from going on an actual mission. Steve and Tony had informed Peter that once he turned eighteen they would reevaluate his position on the team, and while Peter hadn't been very pleased with that decision, as far as Steve and Tony were concerned, it was final.
Tony was just beginning to stir when Steve got to the bedroom, opening one sleepy eye as Steve stripped out of his sweaty running clothes.
"Well, now that's a sweet sight to wake up to," he murmured, his face still partially smashed into Steve's pillow. Steve loved how Tony always seemed to take over Steve's side of the bed after he got up. "Can you just stay like right there for about the next hour or so?"
Steve chuckled, leaning down to kiss Tony on the cheek. "Pretty sure Peter would end up being late for school, sweetheart."
"Hmph," grumbled Tony as Steve headed for the bathroom. "Why does the high school have to start so damn early anyway?"
It only seems early because you didn't get any sleep again, Steve thought as he stepped into the shower, letting out a soft moan as the hot water pelted the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders. He and Tony had splurged on a couples' massage during their vacation in Ireland over the summer, and ever since then Tony had been encouraging Steve to get another, telling him that the constant tension he carried in his upper body was hindering his recovery.
But Steve didn't enjoy thinking about his recovery, so he always just changed the subject, something he knew hadn't escaped Tony's notice. He didn't like remembering the weeks that he spent in captivity with a busted-up foot that still ached whenever it rained, being drugged into believing that he was fighting against his own husband.
No. Steve didn't like it at all. He far preferred helping Tony and Peter recover from their post-battle stress than worry about his own.
Once he was showered and dressed, Steve headed back to the kitchen to find Tony helping Peter with the last of his snacks. With Peter's metabolism almost twice that of a normal sixteen-year-old boy, most of the time his daily food intake surpassed even Steve's, and he and Tony had already had to bring him extra food during the day three times since the beginning of the school year.
"We're just about ready here, babe," Tony said as Peter zipped up his backpack. "Am I driving, or are you?"
"I'll drive," answered Steve. With how little sleep Tony had gotten the night before, he didn't particularly want him trying to drive in the busy Midtown morning traffic.
It was a beautiful autumn day as Steve pulled his pickup truck out of the Tower garage and onto the street, with the cool, crisp air and the brightly shining sun. Peter kept up a running commentary the whole way there, telling Steve and Tony all about the newfangled thing he and his friend Ned were building in Robotics Lab while Tony offered up a few suggestions. Steve loved listening to his two boys discuss their projects. Even though he didn't understand what they were saying half the time, just the mere fact that they were talking about it in the first place gave Steve hope that they could all have some semblance of normality in their otherwise mad lives.
Not surprisingly, Peter's girlfriend, Gwen, was waiting for him by the doors when they pulled up next to the school. Tony had told Steve that she had been instrumental in helping to narrow down the location of the hidden HYDRA bunker, managing to decipher a series of coded HYDRA files that Peter had decrypted after his disappearance during their end-of-year dance. Peter had intended to search for Steve on his own, believing that since he was the only person on the team who could see through the retro-reflective panels that lined the outside of the bunker, that he would have a better chance at infiltrating it without being discovered.
Which he did, until he was attacked by a mind-controlled Wanda Maximoff and subsequently captured.
"Have a good day, little guy," Steve said as Peter climbed out of the truck. "We'll see you this afternoon."
"Uh huh, Papa. Love you guys."
"Love you too, buddy," said Tony, grinning slightly at the wide smile on Peter's face as he greeted Gwen. Steve knew the fact that Gwen was aware of Peter's secret still worried Tony—it honestly worried him too, but he preferred to not think too much about that—but so far neither she nor her father had shown any indications that the team's trust in them was misplaced. George Stacy had even participated in Steve's rescue from the HYDRA bunker, and assisted in the capture and arrest of Quentin Beck and Justin Hammer, the two HYDRA scientists working out of it.
"So, I was thinking," he said as he pulled the truck back onto the street. "It's been awhile since we've had one of our coffee dates, so why don't we have one of them this morning, hmm?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Tony frown. "Um… I thought I'd been assigned to work with Bruce this morning? Something about the funky space lights over Wakanda last night?"
"Yes, and I've already spoken with Bruce and asked if you could start a couple hours later," Steve said gently. "And he said it was fine."
Tony's frown grew deeper. "Okay. And when were you planning to tell me?"
"I just did," answered Steve. He reached for Tony's hand, relieved that he didn't try to pull away. "Please, sweetheart, we need to talk about this. These dreams you're having are upsetting you, and I'm not the only one who's noticed. Peter's worried about you too."
"Mmm," grumbled Tony. "Not like that's anything new. Kid's been worrying about me his entire life."
"That's 'cause he loves you, Tony. Just like I do."
Tony rolled his eyes, his fingers twitching in Steve's. "Fine, mother hen, we can go have coffee. But just one, okay? I've got a lot of data to look through, and since none of the SHIELD scientists know how to organise anything, it's kind of a mess."
"Thank you," Steve said. He didn't bother adding that he knew Tony had already looked through the data at least once while he'd been awake the night before, and that he hadn't liked what he'd found.
One thing at a time.
Arriving at their favourite coffee shop, Steve made pleasant small talk with the barista as she prepared their drinks and chocolate croissants, then led Tony over to their usual table in the corner, right next to the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the bustling street.
"Sweetheart, please, talk to me?" Steve pleaded after they had sat in silence for at least five minutes. "'Cause it seems like these dreams of yours are just getting worse and worse, and—"
"They are," Tony said, so flatly that Steve's blood ran cold for a moment. He traced around the rim of his cup with his finger, his beautiful brown eyes filled to the brim with fear. "They… it's like they were just sitting there in the background of my mind, biding their time until we were able to destroy HYDRA, and now—"
"So they're the same dreams that you started having after the battle with Loki?" asked Steve. "About the space army?"
Tony flinched at Steve's words, prompting Steve to reach for his hand, running the pad of his finger along Tony's wedding ring.
"Sweetheart, it's just me," he murmured. "It's okay."
Tony scoffed, shaking his head. "No, it's not, 'cause that's the problem right there. It's not just you." Tears welled in his eyes that he hastily swiped away. "It's never just you. It's—it's everyone. The whole team. You, Nat, Clint, Bruce, Thor… And—and even—oh Christ, Steve, I can't—" He broke off, but Steve understood what he meant anyway.
Even Peter.
"Oh my God," Steve whispered. "Tony, I wish you would've told me this a lot sooner!"
"Tell you what?" Tony snapped. "Tell you that I managed to kill the Avengers because I didn't do enough to stop what's coming? Tell you that just about every goddamn night I see you lying on a battlefield, surrounded by our dead teammates, with your face all busted up and your shield broken in half? Tell you that as I check to see that if by some miniscule chance you're still alive, you grab onto my wrist, demanding why I didn't do more to stop it from happening? And then—oh God, Steve, and then—"
"Tony, it's okay," Steve insisted. He honestly didn't think he could stand hearing it. "It's—"
"He dies," Tony continued, as if he hadn't even heard Steve. "Right there, in my arms. And I can't do a single fucking thing to stop it."
Steve squeezed his eyes closed, breathing in deeply through his nose. It was even worse than he'd feared.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he finally whispered. "How—how can I help? Tell me what to do, you know I'll do anything—"
"You can't do anything," Tony said, completely devoid of emotion. "It's—it's too—Bruce and I are the only ones who can figure this out, and once we do, I'm gonna talk to Fury about trying to reopen a diplomatic dialogue with Wakanda, 'cause—"
"Okay, okay, just… slow down for a second, please?" Steve asked. He sucked in a slow, deep breath, taking a sip of his tea. "What does Wakanda have to do with your bad dreams?"
Tony's lower lip shook as he took a small sip of his coffee. "You were right, I was looking over the data from SHIELD last night. And from what I've been able to figure out, it's—it's coming, Steve. That Chitauri army that I saw out in space, that massive ship that I blew up with the missile, somehow it's coming back. Whatever the hell that was that happened over Wakanda, the energy signature was the same as the energy weapons used by the Chitauri in the Battle of New York, so… they're coming back. And this time, they're not gonna stop."
Steve was quiet for several heartbeats, trailing his thumb along Tony's knuckles as he tried to come up with something reassuring to say. He didn't want to put so much stock into dreams since they were… well… dreams, but he didn't want to just dismiss them out of hand either. His family had already had far too much experience with shared and prophetic dreams. After Obadiah injected Peter with the HYDRA drug CTX-616 in Afghanistan, he started slipping into Bucky's dreams once they captured him following the Project Insight debacle, witnessing firsthand the murder of Tony's parents by the Winter Soldier.
"You think this has anything to do with that drug Aminacin that Killian gave us?" he finally asked. "I know Bruce gave us both the antidote, but maybe some of it is still in our systems somewhere, just waiting to cause trouble."
Tony gave a frustrated shrug. "I don't know. I've thought about it, since it's pretty much a souped-up version of the same stuff they gave Pete, but most of Pete's dreams were self-inserts into things that had already happened, not things that might happen."
"That's true," said Steve. "But according to Peter, while you and I were hooked up to that drug, both of us were led to believe that the other was dead. So maybe this is just another version of that."
Again, Tony shrugged. "I s'pose it could be. I can see if Fury still has any of the stuff for me to analyse."
"No! Why would you do that?" Steve yelped, his heart jumping into his throat. The last thing Tony needed was another potential exposure to the drug that almost killed him. "Tony, I don't want you or Peter anywhere near that stuff!"
"Oh, but you'd be okay, right, Mr Super Soldier?" Tony snapped, his shoulders sagging when Steve's eyebrows knitted together. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm just…"
"You're exhausted, sweetheart," Steve said softly. "And to be honest, so am I. I'm wondering if we shouldn't go back home and try and take a nap before you and Bruce get started."
Tony gave a single nod, quickly downing the rest of his coffee. "What time did you tell Bruce to come up?"
"Eleven," Steve answered. He checked his watch, a replacement for the one Killian stole from him down in Miami. "And it's only half past eight now, so that would give us a good ninety minutes or so."
"Mmm, fine. But only if you promise to make me some more coffee afterwards."
"You know I will, mo grá," Steve said with a relieved smile. He quickly popped the rest of his croissant into his mouth and got to his feet, reaching for Tony's hand. "Shall we?"
An actual smile stretched across Tony's lips, the first Steve had seen on him all morning.
"We shall."
But around twenty minutes later, as he held his sleeping husband in his arms, Steve could tell that the dam he'd built to hold back his ever-growing river of fear was already starting to leak. Tony's dreams of losing his family—of losing Peter—to some gigantic invading space army may have seemed a bit far fetched, but Steve had seen way too many far fetched things come to life since he'd crashed the Valkyrie into the Arctic ice to just chalk it up to simple bad dreams.
If his family was in danger, then it was Steve's duty to protect them.
And he would.
Whatever it took.
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