Tony's eyes blinked open. He stretched and lay on his back. He glanced to his right and saw the sun bouncing off Steve's face. He smiled at how beautiful and peaceful the former soldier looked. Steve rolled onto his left side and raised his head. Putting his arm on Tony's waist he blinked upwards.
"Morning," Steve croaked before Jarvis gave the usual information on the weather and time. Tony waited until he'd finished, anticipating the sound of something breaking from the kitchen, which it inevitably did. "Honestly, butterfingers." Steve rolled his eyes.
Tony smiled and pulled himself closer, so he could feel Steve's breath on his skin. He leaned down to brush his lips against Steve's forehead, but instead he met his lips. Tony smiled as he pushed his lips against Steve's in a soft but passionate embrace.
"Sir," Tony and Steve jolted apart as Jarvis interrupted the moment. "Butterfingers is trying to make toast, and I'm worried he might scramble his circuits, or worse, mine."
Tony sighed and got up. "I swear, one day, I'll fry his circuits!" Steve sniggered. "What? What?"
"It's just funny. The 'threats'. You love him really," Steve grinned, rolling over and out of the bed.
"BUTTERFINGERS!" Peter's voice resounded from the kitchen. "I swear, one day, I'll … turn you into a wine rack." Steve attempted to stifle a laugh, but it burst out and filled the room with laughter.
Calming himself down Steve blurted out, "He's your son!"
"My son?" Tony smirked disbelievingly. He glanced at Steve who raised his eyebrow. "Yeah, okay," He shrugged. Walking out the door, Tony yelled, "Butterfingers get out of the kitchen! If you've broken anything to do with Jarvis, or anything old and expensive this time I will soak your motherboard, do something bad to you and donate you to a city college!" A few seconds later a loud, angry gasp echoed from the kitchen.
It was a mess. Worse than usual. Milk and chlorophyll were spilt in a big mess on the floor in front of the fridge; crockery lay smashed, including a couple of the Stark family's most beloved mugs. In the middle of the anarchic mess was Butterfingers, looking decidedly down and scared. The walls seemed to have feathers stuck to them, but Steve thought that was from last night, and there was obvious water splatters near the toaster, out of which chunks of badly burned bread protruded.
Tony was fuming. "You!" He tried to threaten it but no words came.
"Peter, can you take your dad into the sitting room?" Peter nodded and, as Peter guided Tony out of the kitchen and down the hall, Steve wondered how he was going to clear up this mess without 'killing' Butterfingers himself.