Work Text:
“Welcome home, sir,” JARVIS greeted smoothly as Tony landed clunkily on the roof of the Tower, suit being stripped mechanically off of him as he stumbled forward. By the time he reached the door to the elevator, he was left standing in his black one-piece under-armour. He stood numbly waiting, his trembling hand carding absently through his sweat-drenched locks.
He could feel the panic and darkness bubbling underneath the surface of his skin, waiting to boil over and consume him. He kept getting flashes of a building collapsing, screams echoing out and dying. A flash of a little girl, only narrowly missed by a lazer beam before he whisked her away. He shook his hands out, trying futilely to shake out the feeling. The elevator arrived, dinging quietly as the doors slid open.
“Workshop,” Tony rasped, leaning heavily against the elevator wall.
“Sir, I would advise-“
“Workshop,” Tony cut him off, glaring towards the ceiling before shutting his eyes.
JARVIS didn’t argue further, carrying the elevator quickly down to the workshop.
The doors slid quietly open and Tony stumbled out. “AC/DC, loud,” Tony mumbled, going and slouching over his workbench. “Pull up the plans for Barton’s new bow,” he said. When the blue hologram appeared in the air before him he raised his hands, enlarging a portion and looking closely at it.
He concentrated on the task at hand, losing himself in the work and the pounding bass in his chest. He stayed like that, not coming up for air or coffee, putting all his concentration into the project at hand.
He woke to a hand shaking his shoulder.
“Wha- Steeb?”
“Hey bud,” Steve said gently, running his hand through Tony’s hair. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” Tony answered, rubbing both his fists into his eyes.
“Yeah, you didn’t get much rest before the fight, and you’ve been down here for a while. How about we go upstairs and get into bed, alright?”
“’M not little, you don’t have to talk to me like that,” Tony mumbled as he sat up straighter.
“Sure,” Steve agreed pleasantly, putting a hand on the back of Tony’s neck comfortably. “Please come to bed?” he tried again.
Tony looked at him blearily for a moment, not saying anything.
“Come on,” Steve said gently, leaning down and scooping Tony up as if he weighed nothing.
Tony mumbled weakly, too tired to truly protest. He was asleep before the elevator had hit their floor, and after stripping him of the under-armour, Steve quickly tucked him into their bed. He slid in beside him and wrapped him in his arms.
Steve woke a few hours later. The first thing he noticed was the damp feeling around his thighs. Then, he became aware of a soft sobbing beside him.
“Oh, buddy,” he breathed, bringing Tony closer to his chest. “You’re okay, it’s okay,” he laid a gentle kiss on top of Tony’s head. Tony sobbed into his chest, hands twisted in the fabric of his t-shirt. Steve continued to hold him and rub his back, cooing and whispering soothingly into his ear.
This was often how Tony transitioned into his little headspace; a combination of sleep deprivation, traumatic events and stress would drive him to the brink, and a cathartic release would allow him the peace to slip into his little mindset.
Tony eventually wore himself down into a sniffing, hiccupping mess.
“Had an accident,” he murmured, nuzzling into Steve’s chest.
“It happens,” Steve soothed, cupping Tony’s cheek and rubbing the tears away. “How about we get you cleaned up and then see what the evening has for us, hm?”
“Kay,” Tony mumbled, nuzzling into the crook of Steve’s neck. His breath panted warm and damp onto Steve’s neck, tears caked onto his face.
Steve threw the blankets off of them, the cool air hitting particularly cold on the damp spots. Steve grabbed Tony by the armpits, lifting him and perching him on his hip. He carried him into the bathroom, where he sat him on the closed toilet seat. Steve reached over to the bath, turning on the water and letting it run. Tony sat dopily staring at Steve. Steve reached down and pulled two small tubs from under the sink.
“Boats or dragons?” Steve held up each tub respectively.
“Boats,” Tony answered, thumb creeping up into his mouth.
“Okay,” Steve said agreeably, putting the tub on the ground. “I think this bath is just about ready.” Steve turned to Tony. “Arms up.” Tony lifted his arms, and Steve pulled the tank top off of Tony. Steve gave him his hand and helped him stand, sliding his boxers off. “In you go,” he said, helping him into the tub. Tony stepped carefully in, crouching and then sitting fully in the water.
“Boats,” he said around his thumb, looking imploringly up at Steve.
“Okay, okay,” Steve said, dumping the tub of boats into the water. “There you go.” He wet a facecloth, quickly and efficiently scrubbing Tony all over while he played with the boats. Steve left him for a minute to go change his damp pants for clean ones.
When he returned, Tony was nodding off over his boats.
“Time to get out,” Steve said. Tony whined in the back of his throat.
“Wanna play,” he whined, gripping boats in either hand.
“Okay, we can keep playing once we get all dry. Come on, now,” Steve picked Tony up by the armpits and lifted him out, not giving him time to protest. Steve stood him on the bathmat and wrapped a fluffy towel around him. “Here we go.” Steve scooped Tony up, towel and all, and carried him out to the bedroom. He sat him on the bed, rubbing him with the towel.
Steve moved to the closet, pulling out diapering materials and a pair of soft pajamas. He laid out a plastic mat, pulling the towel off Tony and laying him down on top of the mat. Then, he lay out a diaper under Tony, strapping it securely around his waist. He patted Tony on the thigh when he was done, quickly slipping him into the pajamas he had chosen.
When he was done, Steve picked up Tony and perched him on his hip, carrying him out to their kitchen. He kept him perched on his hip while he fixed a few pieces of buttered toast and a bottle of warm milk.
He moved them to the large plush couch in the living room. He cradled Tony sideways in his arms, supporting his head with his arm. He fed Tony small bites of toast, holding them to Tony’s lips until he accepted them into his mouth. Once he had fed him a full slice of toast, Steve put the bottle to Tony’s lips, watching adoringly as he hungrily sucked the bottle down.
“Slow down,” Steve chuckled, pulling the nipple out of Tony’s mouth. “Small sips.” He rubbed his hand on Tony’s belly for a moment. Then, he put the bottle back to Tony’s lips. Tony accepted the bottle easily, taking a few more pulls as his eyes drifted closed. His lips slowed as he blinked heavily, looking up at Steve.
“Hi,” Steve breathed at him as Tony peered up at him. “Go to sleep now, it’s okay.” Tony’s blinks started getting longer as his lips slowed on the bottle. Eventually his mouth stopped moving and Steve pulled the bottle away, placing it on the coffee table in front of them. Then, he picked up a slice of toast and munched on it, gazing down at Tony as he dozed happily in his lap.
They stayed like that for about an hour, until Tony groggily blinked himself into wakefulness.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Steve whispered, smoothing Tony’s hair away from his face.
“Hi” he answered softly.
“Good nap?”
“M hm,” Tony sighed, nuzzling into Steve’s belly.
“Ready to get up?”
“’Kay,” Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, letting him pull him into a sitting position.
“Want to colour for a bit, love?”
Tony nodded, thumb creeping into his mouth.
“You know you’re not allowed to suck your thumb,” Steve chastised gently, pulling Tony’s thumb from his mouth. He reached over and pulled open a secret drawer in the coffee table, revealing a drawer full of baby things. He fished out a pacifier, popping it quickly into Tony’s mouth. Then, he opened another drawer, revealing an array of colouring books and pencil crayons.
“Which one?” Steve asked Tony. Tony pointed to one full of cars and trucks. “Good choice,” Steve crooned, pulling it out with a pack of pencil crayons. “Can you sit on the floor for me?”
Tony slid down to the floor, rump landing with a small “whump”. He grinned up at Steve around his pacifier.
“Good job, bud,” Steve said, running his hand down Tony’s head. “Now, I’m going to make supper, okay? I’ll just be in the next room.” Tony frowned and whimpered, wrapping his hand in Steve’s pant leg.
Steve sighed, knowing Tony got clingy when he was little.
“Okay, how about this. You can come colour at the kitchen table while I cook. How does that sound?”
Tony thought about it seriously for a moment before nodding, hands reaching for Steve.
“Up we go,” Steve grunted, lifting Tony on one hip and scooping the book and pencil crayons with the other hand. Then, he carried him into the kitchen and dropped him into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He laid down the book and crayons, letting Tony choose the page and colours himself.
Steve got to work, quietly humming to himself as he gathered the food and tools he would need. He was making spaghetti, an easy but well-loved recipe that he knew was always a hit with Tony.
He had just put the garlic bread in the oven when he was interrupted by a piercing cry. He narrowly avoided closing the oven door on his arm in shock, safely closing it and running over to Tony.
“What, baby boy?” he asked, eyes flicking over Tony. The problem became evident when Tony held out his finger, a bead of blood welling at the tip. His pacifier had fallen out of his mouth as he wailed, and Steve hastened to pop it back in Tony’s mouth.
“It’s just a paper cut, you’re okay,” Steve soothed, holding Tony’s finger gently in his hands. “I’m going to go grab a band aid, okay? I won’t be gone for long.”
Tony started crying harder, his body wracked with sobs.
“Never mind,” Steve scooped Tony up and carried him to the bathroom. “Maybe we should put band aid’s all over the apartment, hm?” Steve asked quietly as he sat Tony on the toilet seat, digging the band aids out of the medicine cabinet. “Alright, here we go,” Steve took out the band aid and wrapped it carefully around Tony’s finger. “All better, it’s okay now,” he soothed and Tony started quieting, tears slowing to watery hiccups. “There we go, that’s my big boy,” Steve wrapped Tony in his arms, tucking his head against his chest. Tony rested there for a few minutes before pulling away slightly.
“Colour?” he asked around his pacifier.
“Of course, let’s go colour,” Steve answered, picking Tony up again. He knew Tony could walk, but in little space Tony preferred to be carried and, honestly, Steve preferred the closeness of carrying him too.
Steve sat Tony back down at the kitchen table, laying a kiss on the top of his head before going to make sure the food was still good. Steve was satisfied it was, after giving the sauce a stir and making sure the pasta wasn’t overcooked.
“Okay, Tony, finish up. Time to eat.”
“Test paghetti?” Tony asked.
Steve chuckled. “Sure.” It was something his ma used to do that he had taught Tony and, although he wasn’t sure it actually worked, Tony got a kick out of it so they did it anyway.
Carefully, Steve pulled out a noodle from the pot, blowing on it so it was cool enough to hold. Then, he handed the noodle to Tony. Gleefully, Tony flung the noodle at the wall, clapping when it stuck.
“Done!” Tony crowed, smiling at Steve.
“Yup, looks like the pasta’s ready to eat,” Steve agreed, ruffling Tony’s hair. “Now, can you tidy up the book and crayons for me, please?”
“Yup!” Tony answered, doing as told and piling everything on the corner of the table and placing his pacifier on top.
“Good boy, thank you,” Steve said as he carried two plates loaded with spaghetti and garlic bread to the table. “Now, eat up,” he said, handing Tony his plastic fork and spoon.
Tony dug in, sauce and noodles flying everywhere. Steve ate just as quickly, but a little more sedately. They didn’t say much, Tony humming appreciatively every once in a while through bites of pasta. When his plate was clean he pushed it away from himself, dragging the colouring book back over and popping his pacifier back in.
Steve chuckled and picked up Tony’s plate as well as his own, leaving them in the sink for later. Then, he went back over to the kitchen table.
“Just about done?” he asked Tony.
“Mm hm,” Tony answered, putting the last finishing touches on his picture of a truck. He closed the book and smiled up at Steve, raising his arms to be picked up.
“How does a movie in bed sound?” Steve asked as he picked Tony up.
“Fox ‘n hound?” Tony asked, face nuzzling into Steve’s neck.
“Sure,” Steve asked, hiking Tony a little higher. “How’s your diaper, love?”
“Good,” Tony answered.
“Into bed we go, then.” Steve carried him into the bedroom and lay him down gently on the bed. He climbed in behind him, gathering Tony to his chest. “JARVIS, can we get The Fox and the Hound on the tv, please?”
JARVIS didn’t answer, but the movie came on the screen, playing at a low level. Steve sunk lower, hand resting on the back of Tony’s head and carding his fingers through his hair. Tony quickly fell asleep to the sound of the muted tv, Steve soon to follow.