Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tony’s days were rather simple, all things said and done. He woke up, went to work, came home, went to bed, and started it all over the next day. He was just like every Little in that way, too. He didn’t have much time to be Little, but that wasn’t a big deal when he had some many other things to keep him busy.

Rolling out of bed, Tony went about getting himself cleaned as best he could, trying not to wince at the rash that’d been developing over the past few days. When he was dressed in gray sweatpants and an old shirt, he walked out to the living room and glanced over it to see if Obi was there. Of course he wasn’t--Obi didn’t spend much time around Littles—and Tony was both disappointed and relieved.

Right off the living room was Tony’s lab, the place he loved most in the world. Not that there were many places for him to go and rate against, but Tony thought he’d still like his lab the best.

“Two emails from Obadiah Stane have been marked for immediate attention,” JARVIS, Tony’s AI assistance, announced. The program had originally been made just to help Tony keep track of projects and deadlines, but the AI soon became Tony’s best friend. And, unlike Tony’s rabbit, Obi couldn’t take JARVIS away. Especially because Obi didn’t even know JARVIS existed.

Tony gave a thanks as he sat down at his desk, pulling his email up on the holo-screen, sighing when he saw Obi’s new idea for a three-stage missile. Tony didn’t like making this kind of stuff. Whatever happened to the green-energy initiative they’d been working on last week? The arch reactor was still completely possible to downsize with the right amount of determination. Tony figured it must have been done enough for Obi and that’s why they’d moved on.

Tony spun his chair around, reaching for his blueprint table. He tapped the side twice to wake it, then set into work. Work was easy. Tony knew what to do to not get in trouble and so long as he did what Obi asked, nothing ever happened. Obi said Tony could even work on his own things so long as the stuff Obi asked for was finished. Tony was very proud that’d he hadn’t gotten in trouble for almost a whole week. The bruises on his arm were a day or two away from fading, which was also nice. It had stopped hurting two days ago, but he didn’t like the marks.

Tony pulled the 2D design into the air to hover over the table, pushing here and pulling there to create something he thought Obi would like. It was almost finished, but he would have to do some testing to ensure his math was right on the thrust needed and the distance the missiles could go.

Just as Tony was going to close shop to get something to eat, a ding sounded and an icon popped up on his screen in the right corner. Tony tapped on the icon and saw a message from someone that seemed to speak for the Avengers. Obi had called them superheroes and had Tony designed all of their gear, but Tony wasn’t allowed to meet them. Tony had seen them battle, though, and they were awesome!

Captain America was a Caregiver, Tony knew because it was everywhere. The Winter Soldier, though he didn’t look it, was definitely a Little. He wasn’t so sure about the other people, but he was pretty sure their agent was a Caretaker and Hawkeye was his Little. The Black Widow and Hulk didn't have official Classifications, but Tony's brief recon of their video footage showed they might be in some kind of dynamic together. Tony had looked all over the Stark servers to find out more about them but there wasn’t so much as a saved-over file with anything. Tony would have given anything to install JARVIS down on their floors, but he wasn’t allowed off his floor and there was no way to have an AI do anything without a controller. Instead, Tony was forced to watch video footage from his holo-screen and try not to be too jealous.

The email was a forward from Obi from someone named Steve--a name Tony had seen before, though he had not face to go with it. He was asking for a Kevlar chest plate or something similar that would bend with with the wearer. Apparently, Captain America was getting chaffing from how stiff the current one was. Tony thought that was rather odd, but he told JARVIS to put it on the list of things for him to do. He’d figure out which one Obi would like him to prioritize later. For now, he needed to get out of a wet diaper before Obi came in and saw him.

Obi hated that Tony wasn’t an older Little and couldn’t fully control his bathroom habits, so Tony tried his best to keep it out of Obi’s mind. His use of cheaper diapers seemed to help because they kinda looked like underwear and were thin enough to go undetected. They didn’t absorb things as well and leaked a lot, but Tony would choose a few pant changes and wet sheets over Obi’s wrath any day. Plus, they were a lot easier to get on and off on his own cause all he had to do was step into them.

Once Tony was clean, he made his way to the kitchen to see if there was anything worth eating. The team seemed to have lots of really good food all the time. Tony mostly lived off microwaved dinners and canned soups. Some days he wouldn’t eat at all because he couldn’t find a reason to. When he yanked open the fridge and found only frozen food, Tony was thinking it might be one of those days.

Sighing, Tony closed the fridge and dug through the cabinets to see if he had any meal supplement bars left. Tony had lost a lot of weight recently and Obi wasn’t happy about it. If Tony was sick, no one would be able to make weapons that helped protect people. Obi had started picking up the bars in hopes Tony might gain some of the weight back. The pathetic truth was that Tony bathed in the attention--the semblance of care--for just that moment, and still held onto it like a lifeline.

“Tony, where are you, my boy?” Obadiah shouted from somewhere in the penthouse. “We need to talk.”

Tony's head whipped around to the find the origin of the voice. He hadn't even heard the door open. Ducking his head into his shoulders and wishing he could hide but knowing better than to do so, Tony closed the cabinet door and gave away his position. Obi didn’t like it when Tony ran away and the resulting punishment wasn’t worth the three extra seconds he’d get away from him. Especially when it sounded like Obi was already upset.

“Ah, there you are. Come here.” Obi said as he walked into the dinning room, waving Tony towards him.

Tony did as he was told, still holding the single meal bar he’d found and terrified of letting it go. He ducked his head just a bit as he passed Obi, muscles stiff of their own accord.

Obi took a seat at the head of the table and Tony slumped into his normal seat at the other end of the table. Obi’s face turned quizzical for a moment as he looked at Tony.

“You seem tired?” Obi said, sitting on the edge of his chair and leaning over the table as if to look at Tony closer.

“I’m okay,” Tony said.

“Good to hear.” Obi perked up and sat back in his chair once more. “Now, I wanted to talk about the missiles.”

Obi explained a few different things that Tony kinda understood, but didn’t put too much thought in. Some of his ideas were rather grand if not entirely impossible, but he had a tendency to overlook many of the finer details. So long as it looked sleek and went boom, Obi wasn’t too particular on the rest. Toward the end Obi’s rant, he gave Tony a due date, far enough off that Tony saw it possible to finish that and the vest for Captain America.

“Your birthday’s right about then, isn’t it?”

Tony perked up and carefully listened as Obi hummed.

“I suppose if you’re a good boy, we could get you a nice present, hum?”

Tony’s heart started beating quickly. He didn’t get presents a lot, but when he did, it was almost always something he actually wanted. One time, Obi even took him to a beach! Tony had worked really hard and Obi really liked what he’d made. It had been a lot of fun and Tony was hoping he could do something like that again, but he didn’t dare set his hopes upon it. Things didn’t work out the way Tony wanted very often.

Obi smiled, a pleased glint in his eye. “Get this done on time and I’ll see what we can do.”

Tony nodded his head, chest full of excitement as Obi got up and walked towards the door.

“Oh, and I brought you some fruit. Make sure you eat it.” With that, Obi was gone and Tony was left to steel his determination and get back to work.

Chapter Text

Tony ran through the lab, darting around tables and large machines and being careful to not fall or trip. Dummy was chasing after him, hitting the edge of the metal lathe and accidently spinning himself around. Tony fell into a fit of giggles, using the side of a worktable to keep himself standing. A poke in the back almost had Tony jumping ten feet into the air, turning to see You driving off in the opposite direction.

“No fair!” Tony called, chasing after the robot. He would have been able to catch up, too, if he hadn’t been running around for the past hour playing tag. He had been feeling just a tad bit Little after finishing for the day and started playing catch with Dummy. But then Tony wanted to catch the ball, so they both started running after it and the game had just developed into tag with all of his robots playing.

“Ah, Tony, there you are!”

Tony’s head whipped around to see Obi walking into the lab with a cup of coffee in one hand and a box of pizza in the other. he felt hthe blood drain from his face as he said, “Obi--”

“I brought you that pizza you like from down the street,” Obi said, cutting Tony off as he placed the box on the main worktable and threw the lid open. “Thought you may like a reward for all your hard work.”

Tony’s face broke into a wide smile, relief flooding his veins as he ran towards Obi and the pizza. “Really?”

“Well, of course. Hard work gets rewards, doesn’t it?” Obi cheered, grabbing a piece of pizza and taking a bite.

Tony wasn’t sure about that because he worked a lot and didn’t get very many rewards. But Obi must really like what Tony made if he’d gotten pizza. Tony pulled a slice from the box and stuffed it into his mouth. He wasn’t Little, but he wasn’t big, either and that meant he was clumsy, so he had to concentrate really hard to make sure he didn’t mess up his shirt. Obi didn’t like when Tony made messes.

“Come take a seat and show me what you’ve got.” Obi patted the work stool next to him and Tony obediently sat down, tapping twice on his holo-table.

The official design’s for Obi’s missile pulled up immediately and Tony sat back, munching on pizza as Obi twisted the design around. “This is just just what we needed. It's going to help a lot of people”

Tony gave a small, proud smile, straightening his back a bit as he bathed in the praise. Obi didn't praise him very often, but when he did, it made up for all the times he didn't. The kind words made a good, warm feeling in his tummy. Maybe now would be a good time to ask Obi about his birthday gift?

Tony swallowed, taking in a deep breath before saying, “Hey, Obi?”

Obi looked up from the designs and back at Tony as if he’d forgotten the Little was there.

“I was wondering... if—for my birthday—I could...” Tony’s words got caught in his throat. He tried to swallow, making sure to not make any sounds and gather the courage to ask his question without stuttering. Obi didn’t like when Tony stuttered. “If I could meet Captain America?”

Obi looked thoughtful for a moment, then sighed as his eyes fell and he shook his head. Tony’s heart sank, knowing what that look meant. “I’m not sure, m’boy. Captain America is very bussy with his own things. I don’t think he’ll have time to meet some Little he doesn’t know.”

Tony could feel his eyes grow hot but knew better than to let tears spill in front of Obi. He didn’t like when Tony cried. “I promise I’ll be good! I won’t interrupt anything important! Father said he was really nice and--”

“ENOUGH, Tony!” Obi yelled with enough veracity that all remaining words flew out of Tony’s mind. “You know how much I hate begging! Captain America doesn’t want to meet some baby when he has so many important things to do.”

All of Tony’s happy feelings from earlier disappeared in an instant as he hung his head and nodded. Of course Captain America didn’t want to meet Tony. He was a big and strong superhero and Tony was... nothing... A diaper-wearing, bed-wetting, needy Little who couldn’t do anything right. He was stupid to even ask, wasting all the good will he'd built up.

“I love you, Tony, but you need to listen better. It’s really not that hard.” Tony nodded at Obi’s words, setting his pizza down back in the box. He’d lost his appetite.

“Send these designs down to R&D to look at, and get started on the next project.” Obi said as he stood up to leave the room.

“Yes, sir.”

Tony waited until Obi was out of the lab before he let the tears fall and slid off his stool and onto the floor. He was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid for thinking Captain America would ever want to meet him. Stupid to even waste Obi’s time by asking. Stupid to make Obi mad over something that would never happen. Tony crawled under the table and leaned against the side as he cried, mad at himself and how stupid he was.

Eventually, Tony’s tears had run out and he pulled himself out from under the table feeling like nothing m ore than a shell. He kept a careful eye out for Obi as he walked to his bedroom, closing the door once he was inside. He needed to change his wet diaper, but he was too tired. The rash would probably get worse, but Tony didn’t care anymore. He crawled into bed and buried his face in a pillow, letting a whole new wave of tears crash into him until he was too exhausted to stay awake.

Tony walked into his lab the next morning with a cup of coffee in his hand, eyes still puffy from his crying last night. He flipped on the first two switches illuminating his main worktable and ignoring the rest of the lab. Setting the coffee mug down, Tony plopped into his chair and gave it a few low-effort kicks to swivel side to side. He didn’t have any will to work but knew better than to not be in his lab during the day. If Obi came in and saw Tony anywhere else, he’d be really mad. Tony had only made that mistake once and he didn’t want a repeat.

He spent some time going through his emails, seeing if there was anything interesting. He didn’t get many emails that weren’t from Obi, but it was fun to read over them sometimes. When that became boring, Tony flipped over to his project list and pulled the first one to his holo-table. It was the Kevlar chest plate he was working on for Captain America. Tony had a hard time holding back a new wave of tears as the memory of last night ran though his head..

“AHHHHHH!” A crashing sound came from the other side of the lab and Tony jumped into the air, head scanning for the best hiding spot. Immediately, Obi's voice was in Tony's head, telling him someone had broken into the lab and Tony was going to get hurt if he didn’t hide.

Tony tucked his head under his worktable, wrapping his head in his arms. Obi was going to be so mad that someone got in, but Toy wasn’t Big enough to fight the person off. What was he going to do, Tony didn’t wanna be hurt but he didn’t want Obi to be mad either!

“Ow ow ow owwww!” The person cried out, hissing as they kicked around, the sound of metal scrapping against the floor echoing around the room.

That was weird, intruders didn’t cry when they broke in... did they? Tony poked his head around the edge of his desk, watching as someone stood up and rubbed at their elbow. The person looked up from where he fell, moaning, “Daddy’s gonna kill me when he finds out...”

Tony watched as the figure looked around, still masked by the shadows as they called out, “Is anyone here? I’m sorry I broke the vent!”

Now Tony was really confused because that sounded a lot like a Little and not an intruder. Or maybe he was both!

“I really am!” The Little cried out, seeming to grow more distressed. Tony had never been around any other Littles, but he knew that he wouldn’t have liked to be in a weird place in the dark when he was hurt. Still, Tony had to be careful. Obi said people would try to trick him and hurt him if Tony gave them half a chance.

“Who are you!” Tony called out, proud when his voice sounded much steadier than he felt.

The Little seemed taken aback, his voice soft when he said, “I’m Clint... I live downstairs...”

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed. But, the only other people who lived in the tower were the superheroes, how could this Little live here too. Unless... Tony popped his head up over the table, no longer caring if he was spotted, eyes going impossibly wide as he recognized the boy.

“You’re the Hawkeye!” Tony yelled excitedly! “You fight bad guys!”

The little looked at him oddly for a moment before he nodded. “When I’m Big, I fight bad guys...”

Tony couldn’t believe he was standing in a room with a real live superhero! He couldn’t help as he started bouncing on his feet from the excitment.

“You’re... Tony Stark?” The Little said more than asked.

Tony nodded his head. “Uh huh! I make your arrowheads!”

The Little seemed completely shocked, taking a step forward to look Tony up and down. “And you’re a Little?”

Tony started to nod his head then stopped when he realized no one was supposed to know that. "No," he lied.

Clint looked at him, one eyebrow coked as he said, "You look like a Little."

Tony's heart sank, knowing he couldn't hide anything in his current state. Someone found out he was Little. Obi said to not tell anyone he was Little! He was going to be in so much trouble!

“Wait! Don’t run away!” The Little called after him as Tony bolted for the lad door.

What was he going to do! Obi was going to be so mad and Tony didn’t want to get in any more trouble! Just as Tony was about to reach the door, his hip caught the corner of a table, throwing Tony to the side and almost knocking him to the floor. He managed to catch himself on the edge of the table, but his fingers landed on a soldering iron he must have forgotten to turn off last night. He screamed in pain, landing on his shoulder as he hit the floor. Tears were pouring over instantly and then the Hawkeye was standing over him, looking as if he was about to cry, too.

All thoughts of getting away vanished with the pulsing heat in his hand, pushing pins and needles up his arm. He didn’t know what he was going to do! He was very careful to not be clumsy in the lab and he could almost always fix himself up on his own. But right then, with as scared and as Little as he was feeling, he didn’t think he would even know how to get the band-aid out of its package.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Little Hawkeye said, looking around frantically. When he didn’t find anything, he looked at Tony and said, “Where’s your Caregiver?”

Tony shook his head, managing to get out, “Don’t have,” through his sobs.

"What about your Caretaker?" he asked frantically.

Tony shook his head. Obi said he never wanted Tony to feel like he couldn't have one in the future, but he was a Neutral. Besides, Obi had said, they didn't need papers to know they were family.

This seemed to stress the Little more until he reached for Tony’s arm and tried his best to pull Tony up. “My daddy will know what to do, he can help!”

Tony let himself be pulled to his feet, the pain in his head seeming to worsen and send Tony back onto his butt. The Little seemed to pick up on this and wrapped Tony’s good hand around his own neck and took most of Tony’s weight.

“Where’re the elevators?” The Little asked.

Tony, in too much pain to care about the danger in letting a stranger into his home, pointing to the other side of his lab door. The Little pulled Tony through the lab and then through Tony’s living room to the front door. Tony tried to fight against the Little, but he kept moving forward and Tony was too week and in too much pain to fight him off. He wasn’t supposed to leave his home! Obi was going to be mad and Tony was going to get hurt! Was the Little trying to take him like Obi said some people may want to take Tony and never let him come home unless he built things for them?

Tony wasn’t sure how he’d gone from being in his living room to a metal box, but when he tried to stop and think, he was suddenly in a different room with Little Hawkeye yelling out, “Daddy! Daddy!”

A man appeared from the hallway, worry carved into his face as he looked them over. “Clint, what happened? Who is this?”

“I didn’t mean to, I swear! But I was playing and I fell and then he got hurt and his--”

“Clint, take a breath. It’s okay, I’m not mad.” The man walked closer and Tony tried to pull away from the Little—Clint, Tony guessed.

“Who is with you?” The man asked, ushering Clint forward so he could close the door. “Go sit in the dining room.”

Clint pulled Tony toward what looked like a giant wood table covered in toys and coloring books. “It’s Tony Stark! He’s a Little like me!”

The man seemed to eye Tony for a second too long before Clint sat him down in one of the chairs. Whatever the man had seen, he didn’t say as he pulled out a white box from one of the kitchen cabinets.

Tony watched very attentively as the man sat in front of Clint and looked at his elbow, bending it gently and then determining it to not be broken. Some disinfectant and a band-aide later and Clint seemed to be okay again. He didn’t look hurt and the man hadn’t done anything mean in the process. For this reason, Tony held out his hand when the man asked for it.

“What’s your name, hum?” The man asked. When Clint seemed to open his mouth to answer, the man put up a single finger. “I asked him.” Clint frumped, but let the man continue his task. “I’m Phil, and this is Clint. We’re very happy to meet you.”

Tony watched as Phil turned his hand over, seeming to look over it very carefully. He guessed it wouldn’t hurt if he told Phil his name because he didn’t seem like the kind of person to hurt people. Tony could feel he was a Caregiver, and a good one if he had a Little as cool as a Hawkeye.

“’m Tony.”

Phil smiled up at him, a warm one that sent warm fuzzies through his stomach. “Hello, Tony. What happened to your hand?”

“Felled” Tony said, eyes welling up with new tears.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just an accident. I’m sure we’ll be able to fix this right up.” Phil patted Tony’s knee as he reached into the white box and pulled out a tube. “How old are you, Tony?”

For a moment, Tony had to think about his age. How old was he? Tony held his hand in front of his face wide open so he could count each digit. Deciding he disliked his thumb the most, Tony brought it towards his palm and held his hand up for Phil to see.

“Four?” He asked, seeming surprised. Tony looked at his hand, smiling when he realized that he must have had four fingers up. He crossed his thumb over his pinky and held up the rest, showing his hand to Phil again,

“Three?”

Tony giggled—this was kind of fun! This time, he held up all his fingers and showed his hand.

“Five?” The confused look on Phil’s face seemed to resolve itself as Tony giggled again. “I think you’re just playing with me!”

Tony giggled again, shaking his head playfully.

“Well then, Mr Five, can I see your hand again, please?”

This time, Tony didn’t hesitate to show Phil his injured hand, letting the man move it as needed. Some icky stuffy was spread across his hand and then it was covered with a bandage that wrapped all the way around his palm and a few small band-aids on his fingers. He liked that the band-aides had fun characters on them, Tony never got any like that. He just had the clear ones cause Obi didn’t like Tony using baby stuff. Maybe Tony could use it just this once because he really liked it and Obi wouldn’t know?

“Hey, big boy,” Phil said, sitting in front of Tony again to speak to him. “Do you know your Caregiver’s number so we can call them to come get you?”

Tony thought for a moment. He didn’t have a Caregiver; he just had Obi. And Obi didn’t like getting calls from Tony unless it was a real emergency.

Phil’s face fell to worry when Tony shook his head. “That’s okay, we’ll figure out a way to get you home safe.”

“He lives upstairs! I can show you!” Clint offered.

Hey, yeah! Clint knew where Tony’s home was because he’d been there!

“Is there anyone up there that can watch him?” Phil asked.

Clint shrugged. “He said he didn’t have anyone when I found him.”

Phil sighed, rubbing at his temples. “We can’t just leave him up there alone when he’s Little. We'll have to wait for someone who can watch him first.”

“’an wash seef!” Tony declared. “Do lots!” Because he did watch himself a lot.

“Sweetheart, you watch yourself?”

The look on Phil’s face made Tony less confident as he nodded his head. Phil looked like he was gonna be mad and Tony knew what mad adults did to bad Littles.

Phil stood up and seemed to pace around the room for a minute. Tony watched the man, keeping a careful eye out for any indication that he’d go for Tony’s face.

“I can go with him.” Clint said, suddenly sounding much different. Tony had to look over his shoulder to ensure that it was Clint speaking.

Phil looked over, a sad kind of look on his face. “Are you sure? You really needed today.”

“I’ll be okay. It’s much more important that Tony gets home safe.” Clint looked over at Tony with a smile. “We can play until your caretaker is back, yeah?”

Tony thought for a moment, wondering how fun it might be to play with Clint. Tony never played with anyone but his bots, so maybe it’d be fun to have another person there? For this reason, Tony nodded his head.

Clint smiled and, soon enough, Tony was being taken home. Clint had grabbed Tony’s not-burnt hand and didn’t let it go until they were inside Tony’s living room. Tony smiled happily as he ran to his couch and plopped into it face-first, rubbing his cheek against the pillow. They smelled really nice and Tony liked the way the fabric felt against his face. Tony looked up when he heard Clint chuckle.

“Feel good to bed home?”

Tony nodded happily.

“Well, what would you like to play first? Or would you rather have something to eat and then we can play?”

Tony thought for a moment, but his stomach answered for him as it let out a growl.

“I’ll take that as lunch first.” Clint laughed.

Clint walked into the kitchen and Tony followed, sitting at the island as Clint yanked open the fridge. Clint seemed to frown as he looked over the contents, then closed it and started digging through the cabinets. In the second-to-last cabinet, Clint had found a can of soup and a sleeve of crackers and Tony perked up. He got that soup for when he was big because he wasn’t allowed to use the stove when he felt even a tad bit Little. The fact that he’d also forgotten it was up there was ignored.

“Does your Caretaker not shop for food?” Clint asked as he pulled out a pot and set it on the stove.

No, why would Obi do the shopping? Tony was the one eating the food so he should be the one buying all of it. “Sometimes, but I do most.!”

Clint held his breath, as if he was really mad about something but didn’t want anyone to know. Tony looked for the nearest thing to duck under as Clint released the air and went back to trying to open the can. “Maybe you should ask for some help so you can get lots of healthy food?”

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed. “Obi doesn’t like shopping.”

“Is Obi your Caretaker?

Tony shrugged. “Obi’s just Obi.”

“I see,” Clint said. Tony couldn’t see Clint’s face but he got the feeling he’d said something wrong.

“Do you like superheroes?” Clint asked, pointing at the poster of Captain America that was hanging in the kitchen. Tony couldn’t put it anywhere else because Obi said he shouldn’t have baby thing, much less on display. For the most part, Tony had listened, but he couldn’t let go of his poster. And Obi never stood at the stove, so he never saw it.

Tony smiled wide as he nodded. “Cap’n ‘Merica’s the best!”

Clint chuckled. “He is a pretty neat guy. I bet he’d love to meet you, you know.”

Tony smiled for a second before it fell a moment later. “Nuh uh... Obi said he wouldn’t like me and I’m not allowed to.”

Clint looked over his should, giving Tony a confused look. He turned back around as he said, “Well, I bet he’d love you, even if Obi doesn’t think so. He likes all Littles.”

Tony’s eyes went wide. “You know Cap’n ‘Merica?”

Clint popped the p as he said, “yup. We work on the Avengers together.”

Oh, duh! Of course Hawkeye knew Captain America! Maybe Tony would get to meet Captain America! “He come here?”

Clint thought for a moment. “I think it’d be best if we meet him back downstairs.”

“Oh, then can’t go...” Tony could have cried. “Not su’pose’t leave my room.”

“Maybe you can someday, yeah?”

Tony nodded, wanting to hope but knowing better than to set his dreams so high.

Soon enough, lunch was finished, and they sat down at the table to eat. Tony had to put all of his focus into making sure he didn’t make a mess. He was rather proud of himself when he managed to eat all of his food without getting any on himself or the table. After lunch, Tony introduced Clint to Dummy, You, and Butterfingers and they started playing a game of tag.

Tony had never had so much fun in his life. Playing with Clint was a lot different than just the bots because Clint would climb over or under tables and could outrun almost everyone. Getting tagged was always hard, but Clint seemed to go easy on him and let him catch up several times. Dummy looked like he was about to topple over with how much he was spinning and Clint seemed to find it really funny.

“Tony!” Obi’s voice boomed across the lab. “Where are you, m’boy?”

.

Chapter Text

Tony’s blood ran cold as Obi walked into the room, placing a plastic grocery bag on the nearest table. Tony looked over his shoulder just in time to see Clint take cover under a desk towards the back of the lab. He had never been more thankful for anything than Clint’s ability to read a situation so quickly.

Tony gulped down some of his initial panic, almost tankful because he wasn’t feeling as Little anymore. “Coming!” Tony said as he jogged across the lab towards Obi.

“What have you been doing today?” Obi asked as he pulled out a few boxes meal bars.

Tony’s mind worked on overdrive, trying to find something—anything—to say so Obi wouldn’t find out he hadn’t done anything. “A special project,” Tony finally said.

Obi raised an eye brow, stopping his movements. “Oh?”

Tony forced a smile, trying his best to push down the rising panic. “Yeah, uh, a new plane!” He hated himself for sharing the plans so soon. The plane was supposed to be his “get out of jail free” card for when he’d really messed up. Now he’s have to make something else.

“A new plane?” Obi’s interest was peaked, which was good news for Tony. “You know we don’t produce planes, Tony.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking that a missile as cool as the one you helped me make would need an equally cool transport.” Tony walked over to his holo-desk and tapped the side twice. When it came to life, the plane’s rough draft was pulled up and Tony sent a silent thanks to JARVIS.

Obi walked over, reading through the notes and initial concept and rubbing at his chin. “This is rather inventive.”

Tony had a hard time reading Obi’s tone, something that could mean the difference in another beating or praise. Tony’s lunch was making itself known in his churning stomach.

It took several moment that seemed to stretch on for hours before Obi said, “Finish this draft and send it down to R&D and we’ll see where it goes.”

Tony let out a sigh of relief, his heart still pounding in his chest and palms cold and sweaty as he unclenched his fists. Safe zone, finally.

Obi walked back to the groceries and pulled out a meal bar from the box, opening the wrapper and leaning on the desk as he asked, “Have you decided what you want for your birthday?”

Tony’s eyes spread wide. Obi must really like the plane if he was was asking questions like that. For a moment, Tony wanted to ask if he could go downstairs and meet Captain America because Clint had said it would be okay, but he thought better of it and switched gears.

“Could we go to a movie?” Tony finally asked. It was still a lot, Tony knew. Leaving his floor wasn’t something Obi wanted him to do, but maybe... just maybe...

“Which movie?” Obi’s asked then took a bite of his meal bar.

Tony was almost vibrating in his chair with excitement now. He named a movie that had come out recently, a little animated feature that had seemed interesting.

Obi nodded his head in thought—a good sign. “Tell you what, get those plans down to R&D in the next day or two and we’ll even get popcorn.”

Tony would have burst from excitement if it was possible to do so. “Yes, sir.”

Obi stood back up just as the sound of metal scrapping on the floor echoed around the room. Obi’s brow furrowed as he asked, “What was that.”

“Probably just the ‘bots.” Tony quickly answered, paying against all hope that Obi didn’t think anything else of it.

Obi nodded, brow leveling as he walked toward the door and pulled it open. “Get that done.”

Tony nodded with a, “Yes, sir,” and watched Obi walk back out of the apartment. Tony let out a sigh of relief and looked across the shop.

“Clint?” Tony whispered, standing from his stool and walking towards Clint’s hiding spot. When he looked under the desk, all Tony found was an open air vent cover and a few screws. Tony’s heart fell as he stood up. Of course Clint would leave, Tony could hardly blame him. Who would ever want to play with some dumb baby any more than they had to.

With hot eyes, Tony looked around the shop—empty, save for him and his bots. The way he supposed it should be.

Chapter Text

Tony had almost convinced himself that Clint and Phil has been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. Clint hadn’t come back, even though Tony had left the air vent cover off. He hadn’t gotten any emails, either, which meant they either didn’t care or didn’t exist. Tony wasn’t sure which hurt more. The band-aid on the palm of his hand was his only indication he hadn’t just hallucinated his way through half a day and even that was starting to seem fake.

It had been two days since Clint crashed through the shop’s ceiling. Tony hadn’t slept once, working straight through the nights with the aid of copious amounts of caffeine and the hope of a movie at the end. In a real theater, WITH POPCORN Obi had said.

Tony shifted to stand, wincing at his developing rash. It had gotten worse because Tony kept forgetting to change with his mind so focused on the plane. The result was red and swollen skin around his genitals and on the insides of his thighs. Walking hurt, sitting even more so, but what choice did Tony have? He couldn’t use better diapers because they were too bulky and Obi didn’t like them and he couldn’t keep changing himself because he had too much going on. So, he walked on, pretending the rash didn’t exist.

With the plane finished and Tony coming off his two-day coffee high, he was tired and ready to rest for a bit. If Obi liked what he had made, Tony knew he’d get his movie. He’d checked, double checked, triple checked everything to make sure the R&D team knew exactly everything about the plane so far. It was still months away from development—even Tony’s genius couldn’t work fast enough to build a perfect plane in two days—but Tony didn’t care about it. Right then, Obi being happy would be enough.

Tony walked to his room, having to lean a bit on the wall to keep himself up. His head was suddenly very dizzy and he had a rough time making it to his bed without falling. He fell face-first into the pillows and shifted around just enough to get his soiled diaper off. He would have put on another one, really, but he was too tired and out of it to even kick the soiled one off his bed. Tony wasn’t sure if JARVIS had turned out the lites or if his brain had just shut down and gone quiet.

Tony woke what must have been half a day later, laying in soiled sheets. He groaned in frustration, not feeling up to the task of changing all of his bedding again. He would have rather fallen back asleep, but his rash flared with pain and Tony was up with a jolt.

He was naked from the waist down, which meant his shirt may be wet, but his other clothes were safe. A small blessing because he’d been wearing his favorite pair of jeans yesterday and didn’t want to throw them out. He tore his shirt off his body and tossed it in the bathroom trash can as he walked in. His tights rubbing together brought a new kind of pain and Tony had to walk with his legs far apart to keep from hissing.

The dreaded shower was his only option to get clean. Tony didn’t like water—he’d been water boarded once when he was kidnapped and hadn’t ever gotten over it—but doing a rub down with a cloth wouldn’t do any good. He gave a resigning sigh and turned on the sower. He made the water cooler than he normally liked to give some relief to his rash and washed himself the best he could. His movements were stiff and inaccurate, as they always were when he showered and tried to keep himself from panicking, but he managed to get himself clean and out in no time.

Tony grabbed some clothes and a diaper and got dressed. The rash wasn’t doing any better, but it wasn’t any worse, either, so Tony counted it as a win. He went in to the lab and sat down at his holo-screen desk. He asked JARVIS to open his email as he snacked on a meal bar from the box he’d left out on accident. The frozen meals had to be thrown away.

When Tony looked up, he was surprised to see he didn’t have any new emails. Tony’s brows furrowed in confusion. He was half tempted to look out a window and see if pigs were flying because Tony always had new emails. Info from R&D, forwards from Obi, coupons from the grocery deliver service Tony had used one time, but even his spam mail was empty.

“J, do I have any missed messages?” Tony asked as he hit the refresh button—just in case.

“No new messages.” JARVIS replied.

Tony’s frown deepened. He check the date, making sure he hadn’t somehow gotten stuck on one day like the guy in Groundhog Day. But it was the next day, May 27th—two days before his birthday. So, no space-time continuum mumbo- jumbo. Maybe there just wasn’t anything new to do? But that would still be weird. Even on those days, he’d get an email from Obi saying to just keep working on whatever the superheros downstairs were wanting that day.

“JARVIS, when did Obi last check in?” Tony asked, worried now.

“Three days ago when he came to see you.” The AI said dutifully. “No emails have been received from him since.”

The worry was setting in deep when Tony stood up from his chair and left the shop. He checked around his apartment—the guest bedroom, the bathroom, the couch in the living room, the kitchen, even the closets. But Obi wasn’t there.

“J, run a search on Obi’s phone. Maybe he’s just on a trip.” It wouldn’t be the first time Obi had left without telling Tony.

A moment later, JARVIS said, “The line has been disconnected.”

Okay, Tony thought, now would be a good time to panic.

Chapter Text

“Clint!” Phil yelled, holding his leather attaché close to his side with one hand as he waved with the other.

Clint smiled and tackled him with a hug. It wasn’t really work-appropriate and they were still on the tarmac, but Clint didn’t really care. He just wanted a hug.

“Good to see you’re safe,” Phil said into his hair.

Clint nodded and pulled away. When he looked at Phil’s face, he seemed to have aged years in the four days Clint had been gone. His face was pale and his eyes had dark bags under them. Even his normally perfect suit seemed out of sorts and wrinkly.

“What happened?” Clint asked.

When Phil didn’t immediately answer, Clint’s heart sank and his hands went cold.

-.-.-.-.-

“He always seemed like such a nice guy,” Steve said as he sat down on the living room couch. “I can’t believe he’s been double dealing this whole time.”

“Really?” Bruce asked. “He always gave me the creeps.”

“Everyone gives you the creeps,” Natasha chided as she took a sip of her soda.

“Hey, not true. You all don’t.” Bruce said defensively.

“My point is that he just didn’t seem the type.” Steve shrugged. “Those are the worst kind of people, I guess.”

Everyone shared a collective nod.

“So, what happens now?” Bruce asked. It was a question no one wanted to ask, but needed to.

“I don’t know,” Phil sighed. "I can't imagine anyone will ask us to leave, but it's a possibility."

Clint felt bad for his daddy. He’d been at the forefront of all of this, trying to keep up with the information and delegate tasks as needed. Clint didn’t know a lot about business, but he did know Phil was under a lot of stress.

“The company’s stock is plummeting. They’re saying the only thing keeping them from going belly-up right now is their public support of the Avengers.” Natasha said as she leaned back in her chair. “The assistant that worked for Obi told me we were still welcome to live here until...”

“Until?” Bucky asked. Clint looked over at him. Bucky didn’t stress the way everyone else did—vocally and emotionally. No, when Bucky was stressed, he shut down. Normally, everyone just had to wait for it to pass.

Natasha sighed, sitting up again and leaning over the table, weight propped on her elbows. “Until they can find Tony Stark. He owns the company and 51 percent of the shares, so people are starting to think that he knew everything that was going on, took his money and is off on some Camden island living the hi—“

“Tony Stark?!?” Clint stood up. “There’s no way he had anything to do with this!”

Steve looked up at Clint, eyes full of concern but still holding that you-need-to-listen-to-me look Caregivers had. “We can’t know that, Clint. We—“

“Yes we can!” Clint walked over to the elevator and hit the call button.

“Oh my god,” Phil said in a voice so light, it was almost inaudible as he sat up ram-rod straight. He quickly stood and scrambled towards the elevator—that’s right, scrambled. Phil Coulson thought of something so important he scrambled for it.

The rest of the table was up in a moment, ready to follow when Phil said, “No, you need to stay here. Too many people and we’ll scare him.”

“Scare who?” Natasha asked.

“Tony Stark.” Phil said, then disappeared into the elevator.

Chapter Text

Tony was almost cried out. His eyes were swollen and his sinuses stung and he had a steady pounding in his head. He was scared and alone and he didn’t know what to do! Tony didn’t even know who he could ask for help...

Maybe he could call his old friend Rhodey? They hadn’t spoken in years—not since high school, back when Tony’s father was still alive—but maybe he could help? Rhodey was one of the only people on Earth that knew Tony was a Little because they had opened their letters together. He was also the only person who had smiled and said, “you’re going to be such a cute Little!” when he learned Tony’s Classification. Obi didn’t approve and Howard had never gotten a chance to find out. Tony was at school one day, having a great life, then locked in his room the next. The happiness he used to feel almost felt like a lifetime ago.

It had been a lifetime ago...

And then Tony had to go and prove Obi right. Tony was nothing more than a snot-nosed baby who couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even make a call to the police and ask what happened, or at least report Obi missing. What was Tony going to do? What if Obi never came back? Tony could take care of himself well enough, but he hadn’t left the tower in years. He’d hardly been allowed out of his apartment. Was he going to be alone up here forever, now?

Tony started to cry harder, not caring about the tears and snot running down his face as he wiped them on his sleeve. He was alone. Who would care if his shirt got messy? Then again... who ever cared if Tony’s shirt got messy? No one, not in a very long time. Obi wanted Tony to look presentable but didn’t care about anything other than the times he had to see Tony. His clothes were his own mess. Even when Tony didn’t feel Big enough, he still had to do the laundry on his own. He did everything on his own...

Tony didn’t hear the elevator ding out side his door, or the footsteps approaching, or even the frantic knocking on his door. It was only the door swinging open that had Tony clasping hands over his mouth as his head snapped up. Someone was breaking into his house! Tony’s head sound around, looking for any place to die. He had been sitting against a wall in the corner of his living room, disguised by the couch form the entrance but easily seen from any other angle.

What had Obi told him to do if this ever happened? Something about a weapon? But Tony was too Little and too scared to remember. Footsteps echoed around the room telling Tony that he didn’t have very long. Tony’s lungs burned as he dove to hide under the couch, hoping he didn’t make too much noise.

The couch didn’t have much room under it, but Tony was just small enough to slip under if he laid in his belly. The dust he’d stirred up floated around his face as he let out a slow and quite breath.

“Maybe the lab?” One voice said.

“You’re the only one who’s ever been up here.” Another replied.

Tony knew those voices, but from where? Was it one of Obi’s business partners? After Tony had tapped his phone, there was a lot of stuff he listened in on. He didn’t understand most of it... okay, all of it, but it wasn’t like he had much else to do. Maybe one of them had found out and were here to steal Tony and force him to make weapons like Obi said!

Foot steps seemed to walk into every room in the house before returning to the living room. Tony held his breath as best he could but his lungs were starting to hurt and he didn’t think he’d be able to do it for much longer. The short breaths he’d taken weren’t doing any good anymore. However, as he looked toward the sounds, he found some kind of gun tapped to the bottom of the couch. A black handgun Tony couldn't place. He wasn't familiar with much outside of Stark's own catalogue, but Obi did always like his handguns.

“It’s not like he could have left, he has to be here.” The first voice said, confusion clear in his voice.

Tony’s head felt dizzy and he had to let go of the breath he'd been holding, sending dust bunnies accros the floor

“Did you hear that?” The second voice asked.

Foot steps told Tony that one of them was closer to the couch. Too close.

“Tony? It’s just us, okay? There’s no need to be scared.” The first voice called out in an almost gentle manner. “We want to make sure you’re safe.”

Tony wasn’t believing it. No one had ever been up here but Obi and no one but Obi would want to know if he was safe. Not that he cared all that much. Tony stayed firm in his position, holding his breath again and continuing even after his head felt dizzy. He reached for the gun and quickly yanked it off the bottom of the couch.

“Tony, do you remember us. It’s Clint and Phil. You make my arrow heads?”

That got Tony’s attention, but he didn’t dare move. Anyone could spout names. And everyone had to know Tony made all the stuff for the Avengers with a little deductive reasoning. But Tony knew these guys wouldn’t leave. He was in-between headspaces and scared and confused, but these guys didn’t need to know that. Tony just had to play Big like he did with Obi sometimes.

“Prove it!” Tony yelled, proud of himself when his voice came out hard and strong despite he way he actually felt. He scooted towards the back of the couch to get out from under it. He’d have a lot better shot and hitting target if he wasn’t only looking at their toes.

“Tony, I don’t know how to do that. Just come out, please. We need to talk.” The guy claiming to be Clint said again.

Tony took in a deep breath a set his jaw. At the very least, he wasn’t going down without a fight. He pushed himself out from under the couch and stood up, gun pointed at the two men in the room. Over their shoulder, Tony could see they left the door open. That was rude, Tony thought.

“Woah, Tony, please. We’re not here to hurt you.” Maybe-Clint said. Tony couldn’t see much in the dim lighting of the apartment and eyes still sore and wet from tears.

“We helped you when you burned your hand, remember?" Maybe-Phil said. “Clint had fallen through an air vent and you two met.”

Tony stared at the men intensely. They still didn’t look like Phil and Clint, but Tony didn’t have the best memory when it came to faces and it was too dark to really see.

Maybe-Phil took a step closer and Tony stiffened, pointing the gun at his chest. Maybe-Phil stopped his movements.

“You burned your hand on a soldering iron and Clint brought you to our apartment. I put a Micky-Mouse band-aide on you after we cleaned it.”

Tony’s determination wavered. Maybe they really where Phil and Clint, some of the first people to show him kindness in a very long time. His arms felt a little lose and he didn’t even notice that he’d lowered the weapon a few degrees. Just enough to tell Phil that Tony did remember.

“We came to check in on you.” Very-possibly-Phil said. “Your Caregiver hasn’t been here in a few days, has he?”

Tony’s brow furrowed. “Don’t have a Caregiver.”

Very-possibly-Phil seemed confused for a moment. “But, Obadiah Stane... Wasn’t he caring for you?”

“Why do you wanna know about Obi?” Tony asked harshly, raising the gun again.

“Wait, Stane is who you meant when you said Obi takes care of you?” Very-possibly-Clint asked, his face looking a little green, even in the dark light.

“What’d’ya know about Obi!” Tony almost yelled. He could feel tears burn in the back of his eyes, several falling down his face. "Where is he!"

The two men shared a look before very-possibly-Phil spoke up. “Tony, baby... Obi’s not going to be coming back.” Very-possibly-Phil’s face looked like he was about ready to cry too.

“Why?” Tony asked, heart racing in fear as he looked at the two men.

“Tony, look, Obi... He...” very-possibly-Clint looked at very-possibly-Phil before turning back to Tony. “He passed away.”

Chapter Text

Tower 7

Tony froze. “What?”

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” Very-possibly-Clint said. “I would have told you sooner bu-“

“He’s can’t be gone.” Tony said as tears ran down his face in a wave of fear and confusion. “He’s s’pos’d to take me to a movie! He promised!”

Very-possibly-Phil took another step forward, seeming to wait for a moment before he took another.

“We can explain everything, I promise. Just come with us, okay?” Very-possibly-Phil said.

Now that he was closer, even through tears, Tony could see it was Phil. He looked different, but his presence felt the same—calming, comforting, strong. Somehow, he knew this man was safe.

“But, he, he was—“ Tony looked towards his lab, looking to see if Obi was still there, munching on a meal bar. Tears were turning everything into funny shapes, but he could tell no one was there. “He-he was—“

Phil was within arms reach, still hesitant as he moved. “It’ll be okay, I swear it. It’ll be okay.”

Tony’s eyes switched between Phil and the lab again. Obi still wasn’t there. His chest hurt and his mind was buzzing around in the fog, unsure of how to tell up from down. He felt himself go a bit lightheaded and his legs didn’t seem to want to hold his weight anymore. But someone was there, arms tight around Tony and holding him close.

The sensation of being hugged was odd, but Tony couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. He felt the gun get taken out of his hand, but he wasn’t sure how. Both of Phil’s arms were keeping Tony on his feet. He was tired and all the fight from earlier fled from his body, leaving him more exhausted than he‘s ever been before. Phil seemed to be rocking from one foot to the other softly and Tony just let it happen. What did it matter? What did anything matter.

Tony really was alone, now.

-.-.-.-.-

Tony must have passed out or something because he woke slowly, unable to focus on the room before sleep pulled him back under. It felt like he’d been sleeping for days when he finally did wake up and become conscious of the world. He was in a nursery of some kind, which was strange. Tony didn’t have a nursery, just his room. He didn’t have stickers of movie characters over his walls that were painted purple with a matching rug. Obi never would have allowed such babyish things.

Tony sat up, immediately aware of a wet diaper. He swept his hands around the sheets, but didn’t find any wet spots. That was a first in a long time. There were a few pillows lined on one side of the bed, which confused Tony because most of them didn’t look like they belonged in this room. They had different colors and patterns that didn’t match the bed’s sheets.

Somehow, waking up in this strange place didn’t feel scary to him. It felt warm and comfortable, like he could stay there all day and he’d be safe. It was a new feeling. Still, Tony thought as he threw back the covers and pushed some of the pillows out of the way to get out of bed, Obi would like that he wasn’t...

Tony stopped dead, suddenly remembering last night. Obi couldn’t dislike anything because he wasn’t even—

“Hey there, big guy,” Phil smiled as he walked into the room. “Did you sleep okay?”

Tony looked at the Caregiver in confusion as he was picked up and walked over to a mat that had been placed on the floor.

Tony wasn’t sure how to react as he was placed on his back and Phil crouched down on his knees.

When Phil grabbed a diaper Tony didn’t recognize, he shifted around, heart betting quickly when he looked down and found he was dressed in clothes that weren’t his.

Tony rolled over and crawled for the wall, pushing his back into a corner with his knees pulled up to his chest and he squeaked out, “Where m’I?” He knew he shouldn’t feel so safe when he was so scared.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Phil said raising his hands in a surrender gesture. “You’re in a safe place, no one here is going to hurt you. I promise. We’re in Clint and my’s apartment.”

Tony felt he could believe him, but that just made him more scared. He’d never felt like that before. He balled up tighter, arms wrapping around his legs as he put his head on his knees.

“Do you want Clint to come sit with you?” Phil asked.

Tony didn’t know why, but he nodded.

“Okay. Do you promise not to move if I leave?” Phil asked.

If Tony had been thinking logically, he would have understood that Phil was making sure he wouldn’t hurt himself, but little Tony took it as a stern command and nodded his head again.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Phil stood and left the room, footsteps echoing down the hall.

A minute later, Clint ran into the room with a smile. “Hi Tony!”

Tony looked up, smiling back at Clint. He was definitely Little at the moment and his energy was infectious.

“Clint, you know better than to run in the house.” Phil said as he stepped into the room.

“Sorry,” Clint said half-heartedly.

Phil rolled his eyes and walked across the room, kneeling on the other side of the mat. “Clint’s here now, he won’t let me do anything that could hurt you.”

Tony’s eyes darted between the two. Even without Clint, Tony knew Phil wouldn’t hurt him. That’s what really scared him—his want to just listen and obey the Caregiver all the time. He didn’t even know why he felt like that. He just did.

When Phil patted the mat again, Tony tentatively scooted his butt across the floor and to where he’d been put down.

“There’s a good boy. Go on and lay back and we’ll get you in a fresh diaper, okay?” Phil picked up a tube of something as he spoke, squeezing the contents closer to the cap.

Tony laid back and watched as Phil unbuttoned the onesie. Clint was going through his closet off to Tony’s right, pulling Tony’s attention away from the change. Clint pulled something out with a, “ah ha!” and walked back towards Tony just as something strange was smeared across his butt. Tony flinched, wiggling away from whatever it was.

“I know it hurts, baby, but this’ll help.” Phil said, still rubbing in whatever it was.

A moment later, he was done and tapping Tony into another diaper. Tony could tell they weren’t his as soon as he saw it—the colorful patterns were much different than Tony’s white ones. And Tony’s were slip-ons whereas these had tapes. Whilst he was thinking, Phil had managed to get Tony dressed once more and was helping him sit up.

“See, all better,” Phil smiled, running a hand through Tony’s hair. Tony leaned into the touch, unused to the feeling but loving it.

“Here you go, Tony!” Clint said, holding out a stuffed frog that was, in no way, atomically correct with it’s large head and teddy-bear-like body. “This used to be Bucky’s, but he doesn’t play with it anymore so he gave it to me. And now I’m giving it to you!”

When Clint wiggled the stuffed animal, Tony carefully reached out and grasped the frog’s foot. Clint let the frog go and Tony pulled it towards his chest. It was easily one of the softest stuffed animals Tony had ever met—though not better than his rabbit. Tony frowned suddenly, looking around the room and on the bed.

“Hey, buddy.” Phil said gently, lifting Tony from the floor and onto his hip, rocking gently. “No need to cry, Clint just wanted you to feel more at home.”

Tony realized he must have had tears running down his face as he sniffled curling into Phil’s chest in a way that would have made one think he’d been around Caregivers his whole life. Tony didn’t understand it either.

When Phil seemed to think Tony had calmed down enough, he made way for the door, Clint following closely and making funny faces at Tony. He wasn’t in much of a laughing mood, but Tony still managed a smile at Clint’s silliness.

“Bucky, you need to settle down,” a woman’s voice said.

Tony looked up and found a red headed lady sitting at a dining room table, a Little in her lap drinking a bottle. Tony looked at the Little for a bit longer than necessary, watching him lean back into the woman’s chest in a content way as he sucked on the bottle.

“I think someone’s hungry,” the woman said, smiling at Tony.

Tony blushed, looking away from her and to the other little across the room as he stomped around several block towers, smacking them down with a rawr. Clint ran towards him with a play sword from the couch and started swiping.

“I’m not surprised with how long he’s been out,” Phil said with a huff of laughter.

How long had Tony been out? How long had he been here with these people? Was he dreaming? Obi wouldn’t be happy if he found out Tony wasn’t in his lab. He should leave before Obi found out and—

It hit Tony for the second time that Obi wasn’t gonna be mad about anything ever again. Obi couldn’t be anything ever again cause he was dead. Tony’s only family... was dead. He was alone again, but this time was much, much worse. He used to know Obi would be home at some point, even if he didn’t know when that would be. Tony was ready to deal with getting hit for the rest of his life if it meant he wasn’t alone.

Tony was placed in some kind of contraption and strapped in. The seat was comfortable enough with a bit of padding on either side. He wasn’t sure what it was until a tray was snapped into place.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know it feels scary to be strapped in but it’s so we know you’re safe, okay?” Phil said.

Tony realize the Caregiver could feel he was distressed and was a little scared about how that was possible. But, being too worked up to speak and too scared to move, he sat still in his seat with his new frog friend squeezed to his chest.

“How’d his rash look?” The woman asked, shifting the Little in her lap to face towards Phil in the kitchen.

“A little better,” Phil said as he swung the fridge door open and pulled out a jug of milk. “I have no idea how he wasn’t screaming from something like that. Clint gets moody if he even has a bit of a rash.”

Tony thought for a moment, wiggling a bit in his seat. He was surprised to find that his movements didn’t hurt like they usually did. It must of had something to do with that weird stuff Phil has used earlier.

“Anything from Steve yet?” Phil asked.

The woman shook her head. “No, not since this morning. He’s still trying to figure out what’s going on with Shane’s assistant.”

Obi had an assistant?

“I hope they figure something out soon.” Phil walked back into the dinning room and held out a bottle in front of Tony, wiggling it a bit. “Here you go, buddy.”

Tony stared at it, unsure what to do. He’d never used a bottle before because Obi didn’t like baby stuff. He wasn’t even sure how they worked. The Little sitting in the woman’s lap sat up a bit straighter, seeming to watch Tony. Between him and Phil, Tony felt like too much attention was on him and he blushed, thankful to have the frog to bury his face in.

“Hey, no need to be embarrassed. Lots of Littles need bottles, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Phil said softly. He must be picking up on Tony’s emotions again but his reasoning was all off. He wasn’t embarrassed because of a bottle—he was embarrassed because people were looking at him.

“It’s cause he’s never had one,” the Little in the red head’s lap said.

“Oh, Brucie, you really need today. You’ve gone for too long without a Little day.” The woman said, running her hands through the Little’s hair.

“Not Big,” Brucie replied, “just met other Littles like him.”

Tony looked up for a moment. What did “like him” mean? Was Tony being bad? Was he doing something wrong? He didn’t mean to! He’d take the bottle and then no one would be mad, right. But as soon as Tony had made his resolve, the bottle was put on the table as Phil spoke.

“How do you mean?”

“Nev’r had Cargive’, nev’r had bottl’.” Brucie replied.

Both Caregivers turned to look at Tony with some kind of sadness of empathy. Maybe pity? Tony couldn’t tell.

“We’ll... talk about this more later.” Phil said, picking the bottle back up and walking towards the kitchen with it. “Keep your headspace, Tasha and I will figure it out.”

Brucie seemed content with the answer and leaned back against the red head—who Tony now assumed was Tasha.

Tony’s head turned in hopes of finding Phil because Tasha was right, Tony was hungry. Maybe he’d just ruined his only chance at food for the day and they were mad and wouldn’t give him anymore? Just the thought made Tony want to cry.

“How about we try some Cheerios and we can give you sips of milk between bites, yeah?” Phil said as he came back with a cereal box and a plastic cup. The bottle was still grasped in his right hand.

Phil put a handful of Cheerios in the tray and Tony slowly picked one up and put it in his mouth. He’d never had Cheerios before and was hesitant to eat them, but he didn’t want to be in any more trouble than he already was. He was surprised to find them slightly sweet and crunchy like chips. He grabbed a few more and stuck them in his mouth, chewing happily. When he was finished, Phil held out the plastic cup. Tony tried to reach for it, but the cup was pulled away.

“No, sweetie, let me hold it, okay? Then we know you won’t spill.” Phil reasoned

That made enough sense to Tony because he was always spilling stuff. He nodded his head and Phil put the cup to his lips and lifted it enough for Tony to drink. It was an odd sensation, having someone else holding his cup, but he found that he didn’t mind it too much.

Soon enough, he had finished the Cheerios and half of the milk. Phil twisted the lid back onto the bottle and sat it next to the plastic cup on the table. He lifted the tray and unstrapped Tony from his confines in the chair. Tony was walked over to where Clint and the other Little were playing.

Clint smiled happily waving a bit before turning back to his game. The other Little seemed much less friendly—staring coldly at Tony as he stomped around their city.

This, Tony thought, did not look like it was going to be fun.

Chapter Text

Tower 8

Tony ended up not staying with Clint and the other Little very long because Phil picked him up and put him in some kind of pen with Brucie on a different side of the room. Tony held tight to his frog, his chest tight as he looked around the pen’s colorful mesh walls and padded railing.

Did he do something bad? We’re they mad at him for earlier? Tony looked up to find Phil but all he could see were the walls. He’d done something wrong and they’d left him alone as punishment. Why couldn’t Tony do anything right? His breathing became more labored as he tried to think back on anything else he may have done.

A finger poking at his knee had Tony jumping almost ten feet into the air as his head swing to look at Brucie. Tony looked him up and down, unsure what he wanted as he sat back.

“I’m Bruce,” he greeted. His voice was soft and light, a lot like Tony’s.

They waited in silence for a moment, Tony staring at Bruce’s questioning face before he realized he was supposed to introduce himself, too.

“‘m Tony.”

“Do you wanna play towers?” Bruce asked, pointing over to a pile of large LEGO blocks.

Tony looked at them excitedly. He loved Legos! He was about to say yes before he remembered another rule.

“I can’t,” Tony sighed, ready to cry all over again.

Brucie looked confused as he asked, “Why?”

“Obi said I’m not ‘llowed.” Tony squeezed the front to his chest again. “Too baby-ish.”

Brucie looked sad for a moment, looking over his shoulder at the toys and then back at Tony. “But momma said we can?”

Tony shrugged, unsure how to respond.

“If Phil and momma say it’s ‘kay then it’s ‘kay.” Brucie said definitively, pulling on Tony’s hand.

“But Obi...” Tony protested.

“Not here. Momma an’ Phil are, so they in charge.”

Tony could hardly argue with that. He was supposed to listen to grown ups, Obi said so. And if Phil and Tasha were the grown ups and they said it’s okay... Tony wasn’t about to say the Legos didn’t look really fun.

Brucie was very good at building towers, Tony learned. They made some that were even bigger than Clint’s! (Tony knew cause Clint said so from across the room.) It was Tony’s first time playing with other Littles and he found that he really liked it.

Some may have thought that a Little in Tony’s situation wouldn’t have learned behaviors needed to play with others, but it seemed that Tony was different. He adapted well into sharing, something that may have more to do with never having toys in the first place than anything else. But Brucie was also very nice and didn’t get mad or scream at Tony when he’d knocked down a tower on accident.

It wasn’t very long before a door opened across the room and Tony’s head shot up as someone yelled out, “Daddy!”

The other Little—Bucky, Brucie had said—jumped up and darted across the room to tackle a tall blond-haired man. Tony felt like he’d seen the man before, but he couldn’t place where from. The man walked in the room, having to waddle a bit to close the door and pick Bucky up, and walked towards the kitchen. Tony watched intensely, feeling the mood in the room shift dramatically.

Tony looked around and saw a change in Brucie’s face, too, and gave him a questioning look. Brucie shrugged and looked away, playing with his toys. Tony knew that mean Brucie knew more than he was saying, but also knew better than to push. When Tony pushed for information, he got hit. Hard.

He tried to play with Brucie, but the ball of anxiety building in his stomach wasn’t letting him focus on anything. Eventually, he gave up and pressed the frog Clint have given him to his chest, letting his forehead rest on his drawn up knees.

“Hey Tony,” Phil said as he walked over I the play pin he and Brucie had been placed in. “I know it’s really short notice, but I think we have to ask some questions.”

Tony’s stomach fell through the floor as he was picked up and carried back to the dinning room. He had almost lost his frog, but his tight grip kept it with him. Tony was placed on a chair with Phil by his side as three people looked on at him. That’s sat between the blond from earlier and a red head he hadn’t noticed before, but kind of remembered.

“Tony, do you think you can age up a bit so we can ask some questions?” Phil asked softly.

Tony looked at Phil like he was crazy. Tony wasn’t fully Little right then, but he wasn’t fully big either. He spent most of his time in between the two. He wasn’t even sure the last time he was fully Little or Big. Must have been a while ago.

“Tony?” Phil asked, his tone voicing concern.

“I am Big.” Tony finally said, looking at the table. When Tasha sent him a look, Tony clarified with, “Bigger than Little.”

“Have you not been Little?” Phil asked, seeming startled.

Tony shook his head.

“That’s not the point right now,” the blond man said, pulling Tony’s attention away from Phil. “Tony, we need to know if you knew what Stane was doing.”

Tony’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“The weapons he was selling to black market buyers.” The blond clarified.

Tony had no idea what or even who they were talking about. His mind seemed blank as he looked around, fear and anxiety building in his stomach. He could feel his eyes growing hot as he turned to Phil, pleading to go back with Brucie.

“Steve, you’re being too harsh. He’s just a Little. He won’t respond if you’re asking like that.” The red head said, setting a clipboard Tony hadn’t noticed before on the table.

“Pepper, I’m just trying to be straight forward.” The blond—Steve—replied, sounding frustrated.

The redhead—Pepper—glared at Steve who then looked away. Pepper turned back to Tony, her eyes soft as she asked, “Do you know Obadiah Stane?”

Finally a question Tony could answer. He nodded his head and said, “Obi.”

“It’s what Tony calls him,” Phil said, clearing some of the confusion off Pepper’s face.

“Well, Obi was doing some really bad things and we just want to know if you knew about them. I promise you won’t get in trouble for telling us, okay. It stays between us five.” Pepper said gently.

Tony shook his head. What bad things could Obi do? Some times he would hit Tony, maybe that’s what they were asking about? In that case, Tony stopped himself and nodded instead.

Steve’s eyes narrowed as Pepper sat back in her chair and Tasha’s libs pursed.

“Hold up,” Phil said, then turned to Tony. “Hey, Buddy, what kind of bad things was Obi doing?”

Tony looked away from the three across the table and back at Phil. “Sometimes, when I was bad, he’d yell a lot and it hurt my ears. When I was really bad, he’d get very angry and would grab my arm and pull really hard. And if I missed a deadline, Obi would lock me in the lab until I finished. I try hard to not be bad but I still mess up and he gets mad.”

Tony looked up as he finished his last sentence, confused and scared when the three people on the other side seemed shell-shocked. Tony looked at Phil, trying to find out if he’d done something wrong. Phil just gave him a forced smile and started rubbing his back, which Tony would have loved any other time, but his nerves were too tight to do anything other than panic.

“Tony, did you ever hear Sta—Obi talk about weapons?” Pepper asked.

Tony nodded his head again. “I had to make a whole bunch cause Obi said people would die if I didn’t make strong weapons to protect them.” Tony turned away and softly said, “I don’t want people to get hurt...”

Tony felt a tight squeeze on his shoulder and looked up to see a sad smile on Phil’s face.

“Tony, sweetheart, I know this must be hard to talk about, but we need to know one last thing, okay?” Pepper asked

Tony looked up and nodded slowly.

“Did Obi ever tell you where the weapons went, or who he was selling them to?”

Tony dug through his brain for a second then shook his head. “Obi said I’m not ‘loud to know cause Little aren’t supposed to get involved with business things. It’s the law.”

Pepper’s lips pursed for a moment before she said, “Thank you for being truthful.”

Tony looked around the table, then back at Phil, asking, “Can I go home now?”

Tony liked it here—he really did—but he missed his bed and rabbit. And his bots, and JARVIS, and his t-shirt from Rhodey, and—

“I don’t think it’s safe for you to go home right now,” Phil said, voice somber. “I’m sorry.”

“But you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like,” Tasha said, forcing a smile as best she could.

Tony shook his head. He didn’t want to stay here! He wanted to go home! His eyes burned as tears started to fall. He looked toward the other two at the table, pleading for them to say he could go home.

Steve seemed equally as miserable about the idea of Tony staying and all Pepper had was a sympathetic smile.

Tony gave up on the adults and looked around, spotting the door not too far away. For a moment, Tony hesitated. As safe as being here felt, he was being held captive. They wouldn’t let him go, which meant Tony had to get out on his own.

Through tears and mind set, Tony jumped off his chair and made a mad dash for the door. He hadn’t know he could run that fast, but he was at the door and moving the lock out of place, ready to yank the door open—

And then he was being lifted into the air, the person squeezing his midsection tightly as they lifted him up and over until he was facing the living room again. Tony didn’t know what else to do—he was tired and sad, and he missed home and Obi and JARVIS—so he screamed. As loud as he could, fat tears falling down his face. He didn’t know how long he could do it, he didn’t even know what would happen, but that’s all he could think to do.

Just scream. Scream until the world stopped and everything was back to normal. Scream until he woke up from this nightmare. Scream until he forgot all about the past two days. And then, maybe—maybe—he’d be okay again, and him and Obi could go to their movie tomorrow like he’d promised and everything would be okay.

Chapter Text

Tower 9

It took a long time for Tony to stop screaming, even though they had died down to hollow wails not too long after the start. Clint had been told to take Bruce to his room and watch the younger Little with Bucky. Even through the closed door, they could all hear Tony thrashing around in the other room. Something told Clint this wasn’t just a temper tantrum from Tony not getting his way.

When the sound died down, all Clint could hear was murmurs about what to do with Tony. Clint could tell the Caregivers were not in agreement on the subject. He looked back at Bucky who sat on the floor next to Bruce as they played some kind of game with a few of Clint’s old action figures. He waited for Bucky to look up before silently asking if he had Bruce. Bucky nodded and Clint gave him a nod in thanks.

Going from Little to big was never hard for Clint. He knew that the quick change wasn’t the healthiest thing and that Phil would most definitely scold him later, but there were more important things going on right now. Clint pulled open his door and walked into the hallway, making sure to close it as gently as possible before making way to the living room.

“Well we can’t keep him forever!” Steve said, voice exasperated. “He’s got a lot to answer for with all of this arms dealing.”

“You heard him, he didn’t even know it was going on! Stane didn’t tell him anything,” Natasha defended.

“So he said! Where’s the proof? What proves his innocence?” Steve replied harshly.

“That is not how it works, Steve.” Phil said, voice hard and cold. Clint could feel a chill go over his body, even though it wasn’t directed at him.

“We all need to calm down before we say anything more.” Pepper warned. “We don’t want to say anything that we’ll regret.”

“How do we even know he’s actually a Little? He could be faking it as a cover up.” Steve said, almost defensively.

Why was Steve being so mean? Of all the people in the room, Steve used to be the first to jump at the chance to help people—especially Littles. What was so different about Tony that made Steve act this way? Clint wasn’t even Little, but he couldn’t help the tears that sprung to his eyes. Tony was his friend and all Steve seemed to want to do was hurt him.

Clint could picture the way Phil pinched the bridge of his nose before sighing and saying, “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Well, what’re we gonna do with him, then? He belongs in a Care facility—if he actually is a Little like you say.” Steve replied.

“We’re not putting him in government Care.” Natasha said firmly.

Clint turned the corner as Steve said, “Why not? No one seems to be jumping up to claim him. Without a Caregiver, that’s where he’ll go. We’re postponing the inevitable.”

Clint took in the sight in front of him. Phil sat in the floor with what appeared to be a sleeping—no, unconscious—Tony sprawled over his lap. Steve had clearly been pacing around the room, but stopped halfway between the kitchen and living room. Natasha still sat at the table, leaning forward with her elbows propped up on her knees. Pepper sat on the couch, legs tucked under her and ankles crossed as she held a clipboard in her lap.

“There’s temporary guardianship we can claim—“ Pepper started before she was cut off.

“Why are you being like this!” Clint yelled, pulling all attention in the room toward him. He stared directly into Steve’s eyes, even across the thirty-or-so yards that stood between them. “What did he ever do to you!”

“Clint? What are you doing out of your room?” Phil asked, sounding more upset than mad, which concerned Clint all the more.

Steve shifted his feet, hands on his hips as he said, “Clint, this isn’t about—“

“Yes it is!” Clint yelled. Maybe he was more Little than he thought, but he didn’t care. “You said no one ever deserved to go to those Care centers! Why is Tony an exception?”

Steve opened his mouth as if to answer before getting cut off by Natasha.

“We’re not putting anyone in a Care center. I promise.” Natasha glared at Steve and some of the fire in him seemed to die. “Steve’s still a bit stressed from the week, he’s saying things he doesn’t mean.”

“Which does not excuse the behavior,” Phil added.

“I’m not—I didn’t—“ Steve exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “Clint, I’m sorry.”

Clint looked into Steve’s blue eyes—searching for any sign of insincerity—But came away with nothing. He wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

“He really wanted to meet you, you know,” Clint said through tears. “He did, but Stane said you wouldn’t like him. I told him that wasn’t true—that Stane had lied. But now I guess the lier is me.”

The room was silent, all three Caregivers looking as if they’d just been stabbed in the gut. Clint couldn’t find it in him to care.

He walked over to Phil, holding out his hands as he said, “Give him to me.”

“Clint,” Phil warned.

“Give him to me!” Clint yelled. The sound almost hurt his own ears, but he tried his best to not let it show.

Phil shifted Tony in his lap, lifting the Little just high enough for Clint to get his hands under his armpits and lift. Tony was pure dead weight, but he was so light that it hardly mattered. For a moment, Clint hesitated. He didn’t want to leave Phil, but he was also too mad at everyone in the room to stay. Instead of walking back to his room, Clint turned and walked towards the front door.

No one stopped him as he pulled the door open and walked towards the elevator.

He went up to Tony’s floor, unsurprised to find the door unlocked. He wasn’t sure what he was doing but he couldn’t just sit around and let Steve make Tony feel like he was unwanted. He wasn’t anywhere close to unwanted and Clint knew because he wanted Tony. Even if he was Littler than Clint, Tony was still his friend.

Clint went in to what he assumed was Tony’s room and sat Tony down on the bed. Looking around, Clint couldn’t find any trace that Tony was a Little. No toys, no colorful blankets, no pictures or crayons, no bookshelves lines with picture books—nothing. Just gray bedsheets and wooden furniture. It was about as dull as a room could get. It almost made Clint understand Steve’s skepticism. Although, judging from what Tony has said earlier about Obi, Clint could guess it wasn’t Tony’s own choice.

With a sigh in resignation, Clint pulled the covers over Tony and climbed into bed next to him. He didn’t want Tony sleeping alone cause Phil had said he was too small to be left in a big kid bed alone—that’s why they’d pulled pillows from all over the apartment to line them up on the side of Clint’s bed when Tony had been sleeping. They did that for Bruce sometimes, too. But Tony hardly had enough pillows to sleep with, much less to use as a barrier, so Clint would just have to keep him close and safe. Like a big brother!

Clint hugged Tony and then settled in for the night. He was sure he’d be in a lot of trouble tomorrow, but he didn’t really care right then. Tony was more important than his butt, anyhow.

Chapter Text

Tower 10

Tony held a glass by the edge, balancing it enough to get it to spin on the point where the base met the metal of his work table. The cup had been emptied and refilled several times, but Tony could still feel things. He didn’t want to feel anything anymore. All he did was hurt and it wasn’t the normal kind he could fix with painkiller. This came from his chest in large heaves of air as he sobbed long and hard, alone in his lab and cursing an unjust world.

Tony knew without a doubt that Clint was still sitting on the other side of the locked lab door, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not even about the one person that had been nothing but kind to him.

The room had been dark when Tony woke up earlier that day. At first, he thought everything had just been a bad dream, but looking down at the clothes that weren’t his just shoved the past day right in his face. Everything he knew was gone. Obi was gone. His normal life was gone. Who was going to care about Tony now? No one, that’s who. Cause that’s all the people he’s got left.

A soft snore had pulled Tony’s attention to Clint’s sleeping form, one had tossed over his forehead whilst the other was above his head. Maybe Clint cared? But no... Tony shook his head, knowing that Clint was only being kind. He must have brought Tony up here after his talk with Phil and those other people.

So Tony had shed the offending clothes and pulled an old shirt and a pair of shorts before running to the lab. He locked the door and sat against it and cried. A few minutes later, Clint has started pounding on the door, asking if he was okay to to please let him in. Tony couldn’t do it, he couldn’t open the door and expose his most precious place to anyone. His lab was the last normal place he had and he didn’t think he could bare loosing it, too.

Tony had forgotten about the bottle of Kentucky bourbon stacked in one of his cabinets that Obi had gotten him after a highly successful upgrade to the Stark assault rifle that had their stocks jumping sky high. Tony didn’t really know what that meant, but Obi was happy and that made Tony happy. He’d found the bottle in one of the cabinets farther down from his main work table, pushed to the back and covered in dust. Only a little was missing from the top where he and Obi had shared a drink that night.

He didn’t know why he was doing it at first, but he poured a few ounces out and took a sip. The taste was vile and Tony suddenly remembered why he had shoved it so far away. This time, though, he decided he didn’t care. He took the rest of his glass and downed it in one go. Taking it like that almost made him want to throw up, but the second the taste settled, it wasn’t bad at all. He poured and downed another glass. And then another. And then another.

Now he was just spinning it around, tears still spilling down his face as he lost track of time and space. His head was spinning and he wasn’t totally sure what was going on anymore. All he knew was pain. There was no happiness in his life anymore. Just an ever-flowing stream of sorrow and loneliness. Even with Obi around. Now it’s be worse because not even Obi would be there to help Tony not feel so alone.

Tony started shivering, suddenly very cold. He didn’t know why, the lab was usually a good temperature, but he was freezing and he wrapped his arms around his shoulders to warm himself up. Maybe if he just laid his bread down for a bit, he’d be better. He didn’t think he had any blankets in the lab, so he’d have to make due with the clothes he was wearing.

A sudden crashing sound echoed around the room, pulling Tony from his arm pillow. When had he fallen asleep? Did he fall asleep? How long had he been out? There were footsteps approaching and Tony had to use the entirety of his strength to lift his head. It was just Clint, Tony said to himself. He couldn’t be sure because everything was moving and shifting, but the hair looked like Clint and he rolled with it.

“Tony?” Clint asked, hands in front of him in an I’m-not-going-to-hurt-you stance.

Tony nodded and let his head fall back into his arms, but his arms had somehow moved and he ended up just smashing his head into the metal table.

“Tony!” Clint cried, suddenly next to him and pulling Tony up by the shoulder.

Tony couldn’t get his neck to hold his head up, so it just bobbed around, eyes trying to look Clint over. Why did he seem so worried? Clint’s eyes looked at the table and Tony turned to see what he was looking for. His table was mostly empty save for a few wrenches, the bourbon, and the glass he’s been drinking out of.

“Tony! Are you drunk!” Clint asked. He seemed very stressed and Tony couldn’t figure out why. What did it matter if Tony drank, it’s not like anyone was around to care.

“Oh shit, oh shit!” Clint said, then turned to look Tony in the eyes as he asked, “Tony, how much did you drink?”

Tony shrugged. A few glasses, but he had lost count at some point.

Clint turned to look at the bottle, then asked, “How much was in there before you started drinking?”

Tony shrugged again and said, “was full.”

Clint’s face went pale as he seemed to start panicing. “We need to get you help, come on.”

Tony realized that Clint was trying to lift him and pull him out of his chair. Tony started thrashing, demanding to be let go.

“Tony!” Clint said, grabbing Tony’s hands and holding them together behind his back. “Stop! You need help!”

Tony’s arms hurt where they were being held, but no amount of trashing or wiggling was getting him away.

“Don’ need help!” Tony yelled.

“Yes you do! Tony, half the amount you drank could kill a Little! There’s a reason it’s illegal for Littles to drink! We need to get you help or else you’ll die!” Clint yelled, pushing Tony towards the door.

Tony let he legs buckle under him, making it harder for Clint to move. Or so he thought. Clint kept right on pulling him towards the door. Tony tried to yank his arms away from Clint as he screamed, “Maybe I want to die!”

Clint stopped dead in his tracks and just when Tony thought he’d won his freedom, Clint spun him around and locked eyes with him.

“Do you really want to die?” He asked, his face seeming sorrowful beyond what Tony thought would be possible for Clint’s normally cheery attitude. When Tony didn’t immediately respond, Clint shook him and asked, “Do you?”

Tears sprung to Tony’s eyes as he yelled, “Who cares if I’m alive. Obi’s gone! He was the only person who ever cared about me! No one will miss me and I’ve got no place here!”

Not even Tony had been aware of those emotions, but they were all true. Tony did want to die—he wanted everything to stop. He’d never really been alive, had he? He’d just been breathing and going from one day to the next. Obi had said he was helping people, but now Tony didn’t even think that was true. What was left for him if he didn’t do anything worth something. Nothing. He was nothing and the world would never miss him.

Clint released Tony’s arms and pulled him in close for a hug, something that almost seemed crushing to Tony. He didn’t know why, but he started to cry really hard and let his head fall against Clint’s shoulder.

“I would miss you, Tony. I would.”

The words drifted thought Tony’s head for a moment. Was Clint actually Tony’s friend? No, that wasn’t possible. He was starting to get really dizzy and the cold chill from earlier hadn’t gone away. He felt a sudden terror flow through his body, but wasn’t give more than a nano second before everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Tower 11

Clint sobbed from the door to the bathroom and Phil shoved two fingers down Tony’s throat again. Tony didn’t seem to be aware of what was going on, but his eyes were partially opened and his body was reacting the way Phil needed it to. Clint’s fear had burned so hot that he’s screamed for Phil the second the elevator door’s opened on their floor. It must have been pretty loud because Phil heard it from their apartment and rushed out.

He was pretty sure only a third of what he was saying was understandable, but Phil got the point, pulled Tony up and ran him to the bathroom. Clint had called an ambulance who told them to let him puke as much as possible.

Clint didn’t know what to do anymore. His friend was hurt and there wasn’t anything he could do. Taking Tony up to his floor had been a mistake. Maybe if he’d stayed down here with Phil, none of it would have happened. It was all Clint’s fault that Tony was going to die.

A loud knock echoed through the room and Phil yelled, “It’s open!” As loud as he could.

The door swung open and two EMTs came through, pulling a gurney with them. Everything past then when’s by in a blue. Phil Steve’s aside as the EMTs starting sticking all sorts of stuff into Tony’s arm and yanked him up and onto the gurney. They were mumbling words and numbers Clint didn’t understand, and then Phil was throwing a jacket around Clint’s shoulders and they were following the ambulance to a hospital down the road. They stood in the waiting room, Phil pacing back and forth with one arm across his chest and the other propped on top as he chewed on his thumb nail.

Clint didn’t know what to do, but the tears wouldn’t stop and his exhaustion kept him from asking Phil any questions. It could have been minutes or years later when a nurse came out and told them what room Tony was in.

It was surreal to see Tony sitting in the hospital bed, tubes and wires and all sorts of other things that made Tony look half robot. His pale face made him look half dead, and Clint was worried that wasn’t too far away from the truth. They sat with him for a long time, not a single word exchanged.

A while later, Clint stood up and walked over to Phil, shoving his head under Phil’s arm like he always did when he really needed a hug. Phil looked down and gave him a soft and sad smile, but lifted Clint by the armpits and sat the Little in his lap. They snuggled for a long time, Clint falling in and out of sleep as Phil pat a steady rhythm against his back. Eventually, Clint must have fully fallen asleep because, next thing he knew, he was being lifted out of Phil’s arms.

Clint opened and eye and let out a whine in protest, but Natasha’s gentle shushes had him closing his eyes and falling back asleep.

The next time he woke up, he was in his own bed in their apartment. Clint was groggy at first, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes as the past few days sank in. He felt miserable, like every bad feeling that existed needed to make itself known, one right after the other.

He shuffled down the hall and into the living room where Natasha sat with Bruce in her lap, a bottle in hand as he laid back. She looked up as he approached and gave him a gentle good morning. Clint mumbles something back and plopped down on the other end of the couch.

They say quietly for a moment before Natasha asked, “What’s on your mind, monkey?”

Clint sighed and pulled his legs up onto the couch, resting his chin on his knees as tears began to fall down his face. “What if Tony really got hurt and it was all ‘cause I took him back to his room?”

“Oh, sweetheart, no.” Natasha reaches an arm out, pulling Clint towards her and hugging him closely as she said, “None of this is your fault. We should have known better as the Caregivers. And even then, we may have made the same mistake.”

Clint hiccuped and opened his mouth to refute but was cut off.

“Tony is hurting a lot right now, he’s going to be sporadic. We don’t know how he was treated or for how long. We don’t know what’s going through his head or why he felt the need to drink. None of us could have guessed this would have happened.” Natasha ran a hand through Clint’s hair, catching his eyes as she said, “None of this is your fault.”

Clint looked at her, tears coming even stronger as he said, “He told me he wanted to die. He said no one would miss him.”

Even Natasha, who always seemed to know the right thing to say, didn’t seem to have a response for that.

“He’s just sad.” Bruce said from Natasha’s arms. Clint had almost forgotten he was there. “Sad and confused and that makes him scared.”

Natasha gave Bruce a sad smile as she said, “And scared Littles act out. They just need someone the show them that they are safe and cared for.”

Clint let that sink in for a moment before he said, “I care about him and I’ll keep him safe. I’ll be his family.”

Natasha smiles and pulled Clint in for a hug, ruffling his hair as she said, “We’ll be his family.”

“What about Steve?” Clint asked

Natasha scoffed. “Steve needs to pull out whatever stick he has shoved up his ass.”

Clint laughed and said, “Daddy wouldn’t like you cursing around me.”

Natasha sent him a wink as she said, “It’ll be our secret.”

Clint hugged Natasha tightly and enjoyed the simple warmth of being around people that cared for him. He couldn’t imagine not having this—not having his family to lean on and love. He’d make sure Tony had all of this and more. No matter what it took, Tony was gonna have a home.

Chapter Text

Tower 12

Tony sat at a table, staring down the food that had been handed to him as if it had been the thing that killed Obi and ruined his whole life.

“They’re carrots,” Phil said, sitting down at the table and handing Clint a plate, “not a nuke. They won’t explode if you eat them.”

Tony tisked, pushing the plate away. “They’re gross.”

Phil sighed. “Tony, baby, you’ve got to eat something.”

Tony whined, wiggling around in his chair and pulling at the straps over his shoulders. Fall face-first into a bowl of cereal ONE TIME and they lock you into a chair for life. Tony COULD sit up, he had just been tired then, but that didn’t matter to Phil. The man was a worry-wort in ways Tony had never seen and it was starting to get on his nerves. And so was the chair.

“Tony, please eat.” Phil said, exasperation clear in his tone.

Tony narrowed his eyes and glared at Phil, and then the plate, and then at the table, the room, the whole shit-show that his life had become. Everything sucked, nothing was the way it was supposed to be, and Tony wasn’t going to eat any stupid carrots!

Tony pushed the plate aside with a single finger, satisfaction filling him when it tipped over the edge of his tray and onto the floor.

“Anthony!” Phil scorned, standing up to grab the now-empty plate off the floor. “This is not how we behave!”

Tony’s stomach twisted with fear, but he ignored it as he thrashed in the chair, all but screaming, “I don’t care! I don’t care! Let me out!”

“You need to stop screaming,” Phil said firmly, setting Tony’s plate on the table and turning to look at the Little.

Tony had his eyes twisted shut as he pulled and yanked and kicked, anything and everything that might free him from the life he’d been living since Obi died two weeks ago. He was never left alone, hardly ever allowed in his lab, he couldn’t stay up late—they didn’t let him do anything! He was just supposed to sit and “be Little.” Tony didn’t even know what that meant, but he decided he hated it after Phil took away the regular sized LEGOs and told him he could only play with the bigger ones. Tony wasn’t a baby!

Just earlier today they told him he wasn’t allowed to go to the BATHROOM alone! Tony didn’t even know why, but it had become a rule after that red head—Pepper—had come and asked some weird questions. Apparently, Tony’s answers had convinced them to not allow him near any water source EVER. And now they were making him eat food he didn’t like and Tony had reached his limit. He was sick of being here and he wanted to go home!

He kicked and wailed and tried with all he had to get out of the stupid chair, but the angrier he got, the harder it became to control what his hands were doing. He was crying now, fat tears rolling down his red face as he screamed. He wasn’t even forming words anymore, but he kept right on going until his throat hurt, and then past that.

His voice gave out as he lost all of his energy, his arms and legs suddenly heavy and aching. He opened his eyes to see that the tray that had been in front of him was now gone, leaning up against the table as Phil sat in a chair, arms crossed. He looked at Tony with a type of anger that sat more on the side of frustration. The look wasn’t one Tony fully recognized, but he’d seen before. Phil wore it every time Tony threw a fit like that, and it just made Tony feel like a bigger piece of shit than he already was.

“Are you finished?” Phil asked, his voice even and level in a way that both impressed and scared Tony.

Tony glared at Phil without answering. Well, as close to a glare as he could whilst his face was red and wet from tears.

Phil sighed and stood up from his chair, walking towards the kitchen with plates he picked off the table. Tony watched as Phil started to wash the dishes, silent even as he placed the dishes back in the cabinet.

When he walked back into the dinning room, Phil said, “I’m going to pick you up and then you will sit in the corner. One minute for every minute you threw a fit.”

Tony’s eyes burned with new tears as Phil unbuckled him from the seat, picked him up, and promptly plopped him down in a corner in the living room. Phil pulled a timer from somewhere and wound it up, placing it on the coffee table as he said, “And noise and I will reset it.”

Tony sniffled and sat down with his legs crossed, then propped his head against the wall in front of him. This wasn’t Tony’s first time in the corner since he got back from the hospital, and he was sure it wouldn’t be his last. Tony was always in trouble because he was a bad boy and did bad things. Once everyone realized he was more trouble than it was worth, he could just be left alone.

The timer buzzed what felt like an eternity later and Phil was suddenly right by Tony, picking him off the floor and holding him on his hip.

“Hey, no need for more tears,” Phil said, wiping at Tony’s face with a baby wipe. “Can you tell me what you did wrong?”

Tony hated himself for it, because he wasn’t a baby, but his thumb was already in his mouth and his head lulled on Phil’s shoulder, making him too tired to speak. His throat still hurt from screaming.

“You know how this works, buddy. You gotta tell me what you did wrong or you go back in the corner.” Phil said, brushing hair out of Tony’s face.

Tony whined because he didn’t want to talk, but he didn’t want to go back into the corner even more. He pulled his thumb out of his mouth to say, “Threw’ fit,” then popped it right back in.

“Yeah, and what else?”

Tony thought for a moment. He decided taking his thumb out would just be too much work, so he spoke around it as he said, “‘late ohf ‘ray.”

“Yeah, and should we push our plates off our tray and throw fits?” Phil asked.

Tony was slightly impressed that the Caregiver had understood what he said, but didn’t let it show as he shook his head.

“No, we shouldn’t. Are we going to do it again?”

Tony shook his head again.

“Good boy.” Phil said, then kissed Tony’s forehead.

It was an odd feeling, the gentle affection offered by Phil and Clint so openly, as if they never had to think about it. Tony had no idea how they could do that—be so used to giving and taking hugs and kisses that it just became second nature. Tony was starting to get used to it, but it was still weird at times.

Tony closed his eyes for a moment before he was suddenly being set down. He whined around his thumb only to be shushed by Phil with a gentle pat on his belly.

“Just gonna change you real quick and then we can take a nap, okay?” Phil pulled his hand away and reached around the table for whatever it was he needed for the change.

Tony blushed, having been unaware of the fact that he was even wet. He normally had an okay sense of when he needed to go, it just always seemed to spawn /after/ it was too late. These past few days, though, he’d lost even that bit of information. It meant he was even more useless than he used to be. Obi would hate him and everything he’d become since the man left. Tony was trying to do what Obi would want, but no one was listening to him!

The change was over quickly and Tony was allowed to sit up as Phil put everything away. Tony was tired—something that seemed to be a regular and ever-present emotion for him. He didn’t sleep well and he refused to sleeping during the day because Obi had forbade it.

When Phil picked him up, Tony let his head settle on the Caregiver’s shoulder as he sucked at his thumb. He knew he wasn’t supposed to because Obi didn’t like thumb sucking, but it was all he had. He had never gotten his rabbit and at this point, he was too afraid that it’d be torn to shreds when he did something bad. He wouldn’t even be able to blame them. There was the frog Clint gave him, but it wasn’t the same.

“How is he?” Tony heard Tasha ask, but didn’t lift his head to greet her.

“I think he’s asleep.” Phil said, patting Tony’s back a few times.

Tony wasn’t asleep, but he was too tired to refute the statement, so he just let out a sigh around his thumb.

“Still not eating?” Natasha asked. Tiny guessed she must have seen the aftermath from lunch, it couldn’t be sure.

“Not a big fan of carrots, apparently.” Phil sighed. “He keeps fighting me at every turn, throwing constant tantrums, screaming at every little thing... If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was some kind of spoiled brat.”

That... hurt. Tony hadn’t been called one of those in a long time. It had never been true, but when you come from a rich family, people make assumptions. He didn’t realize Phil was one of those people.

“He’s just never had someone this involved in his life, of course he’ll fight back.” Natasha spoke softly, running a hand through Tony’s hair. “He’s been ripped away from his home, his whole life has been thrown upside down, and now he has all of these new rules he’s not used to. He’s confused and scared.”

Phil sighed, something that was big enough for Tony to feel it whilst leaning against his chest. “I know, it’s just... hard. To know he’s is so much pain and be unable to do anything about it.”

That wasn’t what Tony had been expecting. Phil wasn’t saying that Tony way annoying or loud or bad... just hurting.

“Clint’s been really understanding, he loves Tony, but I think he’s getting antsy. There’s only so long a Little can sit around inside before going crazy.” Phil said. “Especially with Bucky and Steve off on a mission.”

They sat for a moment, as if in thought, and Tony wondered if they had realized that he wasn’t really asleep.

“We need to get out of this tower.” Natasha sighed and Tony could hear the couch squeak as she stood. “We’ve all been stuck in here too long.“

Now Tony really was starting to fall asleep and was too focused on the thumb in his mouth to listen to what the Caregivers were talking about. All he could think about was Clint’s smile when he woke up every morning, the way he’d try to play with Tony at every turn. He made a silent vow to himself that he’d try to be better, if only to make Clint’s life a little easier...

Chapter Text

Tower 13

Tony woke slowly, eyes heavy as they batted open and looked around. He expected to be in Clint’s room where he’d woken up just about every day since Obi died, but he wasn’t. The walls told him he was still in the living room on Clint and Phil’s floor, and that was weird.

“Hey, buddy. Have a good nap?” Phil asked, rubbing up and down Tony’s back.

Tony realized he was laying on Phil’s chest still, head resting on his shoulder. He wondered how long he’d been out because it couldn’t have been that long if Phil was still holding him. Why would anyone want to hold a Little for any longer than they had to?

“Tony Tony Tony, wake up!” Clint shouted as he ran into the room.

Tony flinched, but looked up as Clint crashed into the couch and sat down enough to face his Caregiver and friend.

“We’re going to the park! We’re gonna go to the paaaaark!” Clint said excitedly, jumping off the couch with the last word to zoom around the room.

Tony laughed as Phil scolded Clint for his volume.

“We need to ask Tony if he wants to come, first.” Phil said as he stood up, adjusting Tony onto his hip.

Tony could feel the familiar squish of a wet diaper and reddened. He must have been really asleep for him to have an accident whilst napping. The perk was, Tony felt a lot better than he had in a while. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt just slightly easier to smile at Clint as he ran around, jumping like a kangaroo and naming all of the cool things they’d be doing.

“Wan’ go!” Tony said softly but excitedly. And, yeah, he wasn’t sure where the excitement was coming from either, but the answer made Clint cheer.

“Clint, let’s save some of that energy for the park, yeah?” Phil joked, walking over to the kitchen and pulling out a bottle of milk. “Does Tasha have everything packed for Bruce and Tony?”

Clint nodded his head in a very theatrical way as he said, “yup!”

Phil was quick to change Tony from his soiled diaper and into some clothes he had never seen before. The long sleeve shirt seemed odd for the summer, but it was light so he didn’t suppose it would be too bad. The overall shorts were weird because all of the snaps were around the legs so it had to be pulled on almost like a dress, but it was comfortable. All of the clothes he‘ s worn with Phil were comfortable. None of them scratched of itched or irritated his skin—even the diapers. It was a welcome change and the only reason Tony hadn’t pulled all of the clothes off and thrown them across the room. Obi didn’t like baby stuff and Tony would get in trouble for wearing all of this.

His thoughts down that dark tunnel were cut off as Phil lifted him up and sat him on the side of the table. Soon enough, Tony had on shoes and socks and Phil was lifting him back onto a hip and carrying him to the living room.

“You all ready?” Tasha asked, giving Tony a soft smile before looking over at Clint and Phil.

“I think so.” Phil said with a grunt as he pulled a bag over his shoulder.

When Tony saw what he was about to be placed in, he almost screamed out against it. He would be kicking and yelling at them to let him out because he could walk just fine, thank you. He would have, with every muscle in his body, but he saw Clint’s worried face first.

Tony hadn’t been around long, but he felt like it was long enough to know what Clint sticking his index finger in his mouth meant. He was worried, and Tony wasn’t really sure what about, but he knew it had to do with him. He wondered what would happen if he did start screaming and crying, if he pulled away and ran as far as he could like he wanted to, and he realized that it would end up with Tony being put in time out again. It would take longer to get to the park—if he was even still allowed to go. It would mean Clint wouldn’t have fun and Tony had promised he wouldn’t take fun away from Clint anymore.

Resigned, Tony simply stuck his thumb in his mouth, curled his index finger around his nose, and tried his best not to cry about being treated like a baby. (He wasn’t a baby.)

Phil seemed to let out a breath he’d been holding for a while and Tony wondered if he’d been expecting Tony to throw a fit, too. It made his kind of mad, but he realized it was a fair guess—he had wanted to throw a fit. But not once did throwing a fit get Tony something he wanted and it was just easier to move on with his new position in the stroller.

Bruce was placed behind Tony and for a moment, Tony wondered why before he realized the stroller held two people and would be easier to navigate with one behind the other.

And then, with a ding of the elevator, they were off. For a moment, a terrible dread pulled Tony’s stomach to the floor. If Obi found out he was leaving the building without permission, he was going to get in so. much. Trouble. But then he remembered that Obi wasn’t there anymore. Phil and Tasha were, and they said he could go outside.

Tony realized when they left the building why he’d been so excited earlier. It had been a long time since Tony left the tower and seeing the world so close up was new and interesting and kind of scary—not that he’d admit it. But the smell of the city air was different than the Tower, and the noise rolled off building and all the way down mile-long streets. It was incredible.

Tony felt himself ooh and ahh at everything they passed, often reaching out to see if he could feel anything until Phil said to keep his hands in the stroller. That didn’t sound like any fun, but after a cyclist charged past them and almost rammed into the side of the stroller, Tony wasn’t so mad.

For a brief moment, he wondered if all of Phil’s rules were like that—things that would keep him from getting hurt. Obi didn’t care about what Tony did to himself unless it kept him from working. Most of Obi’s rules were about listening—obeying. The thought made Tony shudder in his seat, earning himself an odd look from Clint, but no further comment.

The park was much larger than Tony had been expecting, and bursting with Littles running around and playing. Tasha was holding Clint’s hand as he jumped up and down and Phil tried to find a spot. Underneath a small gathering of trees sat a free picnic table and Phil pushed the stroller over.

Tony was lifted from his seat and placed on the bench facing away from the table. Suddenly, his face was being attacked by Phil’s hands and Tony tried to not scream as he wiggled away. Something was being smeared on his face and he did not like it. Finally, the hands were pulled away and Tony’s face was left feeling greasy and gross. He wiped a hand over his cheek, making a face when whatever was on his face stuck to his hands.

“Alright boys, best behavior. Have fun and be nice to everyone, okay?” Phil said as he packed something away in the stroller—the stuff he’d smeared on Tony’s face, he’d guessed—and turned to Clint. “Please stay within ear shot.”

Clint nodded, spun on the ball of his left foot, and took off towards the play ground. Bruce quickly stumbled to a different part of the playground that didn’t look near as fun and plopped himself down in what looked like a sand pit.

“Do you wanna go play with Bruce?” Phil asked.

Tony would rather not play with anyone, but he figured he wouldn’t have a choice, so he nodded his head and stood up to start his trek over to Bruce.

They played in the sand for a while, but then Tony got bored and started looking around the park for other things to do. It was fun to finally be outside, but all of the screaming and laughing and honking were getting under his skin and bouncing around in his head. Tony, sighed. If he was going to be here when he didn’t really want to be, he might as well have some fun. He stood up, dusted off his overalls, and made way towards the large slides. He could see Clint climbing the top of the monkey bars with a wide grin on his face and the deep sorrow that sat in Tony’s stomach eased slightly. Tony figured he could tolerate the babying so long as Clint was having fun.

Tony climbed the wide steps to the top of the slide tower, making sure to avoid the other Littles as much as possible. He smiled at himself when he reached the very top and looked down at the park. It was better when he was tall, pulled away from the world and not really having to interact with it. Having to be part of everything going on felt overwhelming and tiering.

“Tony! Get down from there!” A familiar voice yelled.

Tony’s head spun around to see Phil walking across the park with a stern look in his face. Tony’s stomach sunk to his feet as his heart jumped a beat.

“Down, now!” Phil shouted, closer this time.

Tony looked around, mind blanking on what to do. What were you supposed to do when care takers were mad? Obi hated when Tony hid, but that was all he could think to do. Tony ran down the stairs, trying his best not to stumble but missing a step at the end and landing n his hands. When Tony looked up, Phil was running towards him, a stern look plastered to his face.

Tony stumbled to his feet, looking at where Phil was coming from, then around to a clear path heading farther into the park. With one last look at Phil, Tony picked up his right foot, planted it, and ran as quickly as possible in the opposite direction.

Chapter Text

Tower 14

Wade didn’t leave the house often—partially because the world was full of dicks and particulate because it was the dead of summer and no one in their right mind would go out in that kind of heat—but a sudden desire for a nice walk had him dawning a hoodie and baseball cap as he walked down a crowded street. He would be dying if not for the simi-shade of buildings and the cafés scattered about the city that he would duck into as needed. He was across the street from a park and enjoyed watching the Littles run around and laugh.

Peter would have loved the park, but he had school today and that left Wade with some free time before later in the afternoon. Maybe they could go to the park afterward? Or just play outside when Peter finished his homework? He could make a light dinner and have a night of it. That wouldn’t be too bad for a Friday night. Vanessa was always nagging Wade have more family-time. Plus, when Peter went to bed, Vanessa might just be a bit happy and, well, happiness brought certain rewards Wade was rather pleased with.

His thinking was paused as he observed a Little running down the steps to a slide and trip. Wade winced—that must have hurt. Though, not much, because the Little had jumped up and started running again. Just as his eyes were falling back to his coffee, Wade caught the flash of a man chasing the Little.

Wade watched curiously, thinking it odd that an older man would be running after a Little like that. Wade, himself, loved playing with Peter at the park, but the Little looked too young to be playing tag at that kind of speed. It almost looked as if they weren’t playing a game at all, and Wade’s face fell to concern. He pulled a few bills out of his pocket, slid them under his coffee cup, and darted out the door.

The Little was on the other side of the street now and Wade followed. The man chasing the Little could be his Caregiver, but something about the look on the Little’s face screamed out for help. Wade ducked into an alley as the Little turned a corner and ran as fast as he could down the narrow pathway, turning left when he hit a T. He popped out on the other side of the block just as the Little was coming toward him.

With a quick and silent shift of his body, Wade caught the Little, pulled him into his chest, and ducked into the alleyway. He clamped a hand over the Little’s mouth, feeling like a terrible person but knowing it was the only way to keep him safe. He watched as the man ran past the alley entrance and let out a soft breath of air. He let his arms go slack around the Little and, as gently as he could, Wade helped him spin around, taking his hand off the Little’s mouth in the process.

“Shuu, Little man, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” Wade said softly, running a hand through the Little’s hair. “We’re gonna get you home safe, okay? I promise.”

The Little broke down, tears coming in large sobs as his legs gave out under him. Wade caught him before he could hit the ground, holding the Little close to his chest.

Wade waited a bit for the sobs to die down into soft tears before saying, “My name’s Wade. What’s yours?”

“Tony.” The Little mumbled, swiping at his nose.

Wade gave him a gentle smile. “Well, hello Tony. It’s nice to meet you.”

The Little mumbled something that must have been akin to, “nice to meet you, too,” but was pushed all together in a way that sounded almost like he was humming.

“I promise you’re safe, okay? I’ve got a Little, too. His name’s Peter. I bet you all would be great friends.” Wade wasn’t sure what to say to this kid who looked up at him like he’d given up on life. The Little almost looked like a lot of Wade’s old military friends, which was hard for Wade to wrap his mind around. No Little should ever look like that.

“Tony, was that man chasing you... is he someone you know?” Wade asked.

When the kid nodded, Wade’s heart kicked up a beat. He was going to get arrested for kidnapping—goddamn it! This is why he shouldn’t stick his nose into things. He let out a sigh and pulled the kid in for a hug.

A bit more questioning as they walked down the street in the opposite direction of the man gave Wade the knowledge to feel a little less like a kidnapper. Through mumbles, Tony had said that the man was supposed to be Caring for him, but seemed to be a rather abrasive person. Wade was pissed on Tony’s behalf, wondering what kind of person could throw a Little into a world they didn’t know, not explain anything, and call themselves a Caregiver.

The kid had obviously gone through some intense abuse and the more Wade observed him, the more he got the feeling that Tony was feeling like a fish out of water and didn’t know how to express it. Wade had seen similar reactions after servicemen had come home from battlefronts. They had gone from strict rules and life-or-death choices to the drone of normal life without any middle ground to adjust. It’s why so many of them end up depressed—they felt completely out of place in civilian life.

Tony held tight to Wade’s hand as they walked until Tony got too tired and Wade had to carry him. Wade gently and rhythmically patted Tony’s back, asking if the Little knew where his home was. Wade figured if the kid couldn’t answer, he’d take him back to the apartment and stay there until they had a more official plan. More than anything, Wade hated the idea of leaving the kid alone in someplace he didn’t feel safe. Wade was just some stranger Tony had randomly met, yet the Little was falling asleep on Wade’s shoulder as if they’d know each other their whole lives. How desperate for kindness does a person have to be to just hold tight to the first nice stranger they meet?

The kid mumbled something about a tower when Wade asked where he lived, but that could be any building taller than some around it. If Wade knew anything, it was that Little’s were imaginative. Peter always called their apartment a cave because it was usually pretty dark. Wade had a flashing thought that he should make sure Little Peter knew the apartment’s address incase he ever got lost and filed it away for later.

Wade walked around for a bit more, just letting the kid rest as he tried to figure out a plan. Maybe he should go to a police station and see if they had any missing Little reports, but Wade quickly shoved the thought aside. The last thing they needed was to involve incompetent police officers. Wade sighed and turned a corner.

“Hey!” A voice yelled, making Wade freeze as his head swung around. “Hey, you!”

Wade spotted a blond-haired man come charging at him and barely had time to duck away before the man was on top of him.

“Drop the Little,” the man said, looking only two seconds away from snatching Tony away. Wade would have liked to see him try.

“Back off,” Wade said, voice stone cold.

The man stared Wade down for a moment, then relented and took a step back with his hands up, eyes never leaving Wade’s. “Just drop the Little and no one will get hurt.”

“Why don’t you tell me who the fuck you are to be telling me to do anything.” Wade demanded, unconsciously shifting his body to put more distance between Tony and this man.

“I am one of his Caretakers,” the man responded.

Wade’s eyes narrowed. “Then you can fuck off.”

The man’s face twisted in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“He ran away from you assholes for a reason,” Wade said harshly, too quiet to be yelling but too loud to be a normal conversation. “Kid’s fucking traumatized from who-knows-what, and then the people who are supposed to be taking care of him are treating him like shit!”

“Wait, what?” The man seemed genuinely confused and Wade wondered how that could be.

“You heard me.” Wade replied. “Tony’s confused and hurt and you all have done nothing but set standards and rules he doesn’t understand and punish him for not understanding!”

“I—“ the man’s voice got caught in his throat and he shook his head. “I didn’t know he felt that way.”

Wade watched as the man’s eyes dropped to the ground, seeming genuinely regretful and Wade felt a bit of pride flow through him. “Maybe you would have if you had just asked.”

“They never asked?” The man asked, looking between Tony—who was thankfully still dead asleep in Wade’s arms—and Wade. The man’s eyes squeezed shut as he shook his head, “No wonder he ran away.”

“No shit.” Wade deadpanned.

The two ducked into a café not too far from the street and sat at a table as they talked. Wade was surprised to find the guy—Steve—wasn’t as much of a dick as he had thought. He seemed regretful in a way Wade didn’t understand, as if Steve was responsible for everything the kid had gone through. He didn’t see the type, but who the hell was Wade to judge.

“I haven’t been the one watching him these past few weeks but... I should have known how bad it was going to be.” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Of all people, I should have known. I treated him like shit for something that wasn’t even his fault and I—“

“Look, you can make this right. You seem like an okay guy who just fucked up. Take what happened here and fix it.” Wade said, cutting him off before the poor guy could fall to tears. “Do you want to fix it?”

Steve nodded, looking up at Wade. “He’s been through too much to go on like this any longer.”

Wade waited a moment, searching for any kind of deception in Steve’s bright blue eyes, but he didn’t see any. With an approving nod, Wade started to gently shake Tony awake.

Chapter Text

Tower 15 attachment

It had been just over a week since Tony had run away from Phil at the playground and met Wade and a lot of things had changed. For one, no one was telling him what to do anymore. He didn’t have to be Big or Little and he didn’t have to stay with Phil and Clint. He was allowed back in his apartment and lab, free to do whatever he wanted. Well, mostly.

Wade came by every day for at least a few hours, sometimes a whole afternoon. He said that Tony should take naps and eat meals with everyone else, but Tony didn’t want to. He’d never had to take naps before and he fought Phil tooth-and-nail anytime he was put down for one before Tony had met Wade. He usually ended up screaming so bad his throat hurt for the rest of the day, then he’d end up passing out from the effort. Obi may have hit Tony a lot, but at least he’d never pushed bedtimes and naps. In fact, Obi liked when Tony didn’t sleep because then he’d be working. Tony liked work, too, when he was allowed to do what he wanted.

Lately, he hadn’t been doing much of anything. He didn’t have anything queued and there weren’t any immediate needs from his super hero roommates who had just found out Tony was the one who made all of their gadgets. Clint has asked Tony a million questions in that conversation, then started pushing Tony for details on lightsabers. He wanted one for when they battled. Tony said he’d see what he could do.

Steve was around a lot, sometimes with Bucky, sometimes without. Tony wasn’t sure why, but something in Steve had changed since the day they’d all been sitting at the table and asking him questions. Maybe something had changed in both of them.

Tony remembered the day Obi said they found Captain America in the ocean, buried in ice. He’d been throw into a world he didn’t know and had to figure everything out again. Even after he found Bucky, Tony wondered if Steve still felt like a man on the wrong side of the universe. Tony sure did on the days he remembered Obi would never come back for him. Tony cried a lot those days. He wondered if Steve had days like that, too.

Tony was awoken from his thoughts by a knock on the glass door to his lab. He sat in front of his large computer screen—looking into the physics of lasers for Clint—as he looked up to see Bruce standing in the doorway. Tony smiled—he liked Bruce.

“Morning,” Bruce said, taking a few steps in a placing a mug of coffee in front of Tony.

Tony muttered a, “Good morning,” back as he picked up the mug and took a sip. Bruce made the best coffee.

“What’re you working on?” Bruce asked, taking what Tony was starting to think of as “Bruce’s seat” in front of the work bench, but turned to face Tony.

“Clint asked about light sabers.” Tony said simply, closing out of his tabs and swirling around to face Bruce. “Was doing some research.”

“Didn’t someone already make one of those a while back?” Bruce asked.

Tony huffed, “It was more of a torch than a light saber, but yeah.”

Bruce laugh and Tony smiled. He really liked Bruce. He was the only person Tony had ever met that could keep up with all of the technical jargon. Tony never even had to stop and explain! It was even more fun because Bruce could also offer feedback one-on-one, something Tony hadn’t had since his parents were alive. That thought sent a sudden pang of sorrow through his chest, reminding him that he was alone in the world now. His parents were gone and so was Obi. Although, now he had Bruce and Wade and Clint and Phil and everyone else. At least, he thought so.

“Working on anything else?” Bruce asked.

“If you mean weapons, no.” Tony said with a rough tone of voice, although it came out a little more mean than he meant it to.

Bruce leaned back as he said, “No. God, Tony, no. I just meant that reactor thing you were talking about a few days ago.”

Tony felt a rush of shame on his face. “Oh.” He should have known better, but ever since Ms Potts endless questioning after Obi died, Tony had gotten a bit over sensitive on the subject.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Bruce said after a moment. “You seem tired.”

“I’m not taking a nap.” Tony said firmly.

Bruce put his hands into the air as he said, “I wasn’t saying a nap. I said ‘break.’ We could watch a movie or something.”

Tony thought it over. A movie didn’t sound too bad, and he was starting to get frustrated with the light saber thing. They could watch something and then Tony get back at it with a fresh head.

“Yeah, okay,” he finally said, standing up and walking towards the door. He looked back over his shoulder as Bruce stood with his coffee. He had to stop and ground himself for a moment when an image of Obi sitting in that same spot flashed through his head. That hadn’t been a good morning.

A shiver ran down Tony’s back as he turned and walked to his couch. He flopped down, face sinking into one of his couch pillows as he closed his eyes for a moment. He suddenly felt like he hadn’t slept in years and it almost hurt to force his eyes open again and sit up. Truth be told, Tony wasn’t sleeping well at night, even though he was back in his own room. He hardly slept well under normal circumstances, but the past several weeks had smashed any dreams of peaceful sleep to bits. (Pun intended.)

Bruce sat down on the couch and pulled up some Disney movie Tony hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t all that interesting—or wouldn’t have been if Tony was operating at full capacity. Instead, his eyes locked on the screen and he was entranced by the story as it played out, only realizing after his eyes had betrayed him and closed that he was laying in Bruce’s lap. He couldn’t fight the pull of sleep any more and fell into a very light sleep. Somewhere, he knew Bruce has tricked him into a nap, but he also didn’t care. He was tired and sleep sounded nice, sue him.

He became aware of the world for a moment, noticing the movie had been turned off and Bruce was still there, playing with Tony’s hair. Footsteps came into the room softly, ones Tony instantly recognized as Steve. He almost sat up to greet the Captain, but the idea alone made him dizzy and he decided it was better to just stay where he was.

“He asleep?” Steve asked softly.

“Out like a light about half an hour in to a movie.” Bruce said with something akin to affection in his voice. “He’s exhausted.”

Steve huffed as he took a seat, but not on the couch because Tony didn’t feel it move. “I’m not surprised. He hasn’t dropped in a week.”

“Don’t start on that again,” Bruce said, clearly rolling his eyes. Tony didn’t even have to see it to know it was happening. “If Wilson hears you talking like that, he’s gonna start yelling at us again.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Steve said defensively, slightly louder than needed. “I just... I’m worried. Something’s not right.”

“Something having to do with being held captive in his own home for the past several years?” Bruce said sarcastically.

Hey, Tony wasn’t captive... was he? The more he looked at other Caregivers and Littles, the more he felt like the odd one out. It was a lonely feeling, sitting low in his gut and churning at every interaction with a Caregiver. It wasn’t so bad with Clint or Bruce, but it was still there. It wasn’t a nice feeling.

“No, I mean... he never really seems Big or Little. He’s always... in between, flipping between the two but never fully one or the other.” Steve said. “Pepper said she thinks it’s because he’s never had to.”

Bruce shrugged, something Tony could only kind of feel. “I don’t know, Steve. But we need to stop looking at Tony like he’s something broken that needs to be fixed.”

Tony felt that familiar twist in his stomach. Was he broken? Was that why he was so different?

“You’re right.” Steve said, the chair squeezing as he sat back. It was quiet for a moment before he said, “I just wish there was more I could do. Especially after the way I treated him.”

Tony could hear a regretful tone in his voice, but wasn’t sure how to take it. No one had been sorry for treating Tony like dirt before. Why would they? Tony deserved it.

“You seem to be doing pretty well already,” Bruce replied, a smile in his voice. “Just keep supporting Tony the way you are and let him come to you if he needs something.”

Tony couldn’t see it, but he thought Steve was nodding in agreement. To be honest, Tony didn’t think he’d go to anyone if he needed something because there were very few things Tony needed. Since Wade got involved, no one so much as made him food or changed his diapers at night. Tony did all of it himself again, the way he always had. He liked it better that way, too, even if he didn’t always want to cook and the rash was starting to come back.

“I’m gonna let him sleep a bit longer, but then I have to get back to work. You okay to take the next shift?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah, always,” Steve replied.

Tony fell back asleep as Bruce and Steve started talking about baseball statistics and woke with Bruce shifting him to stand up. Tony let out a whine at his lost pillow, but it died as soon as another was under his head. He was right back out, lost to the world for a while longer until a hand was gently shaking him awake.

“Hey, Buddy. Don’t wanna sleep all day or we won’t sleep tonight,” Steve’s soft voice broke through Tony’s sleep-fogged mind. Tony whined, but let Steve shift him. In a simple motion, Tony was chest-to-chest with Steve, head on the Caregiver’s shoulder and ready to fall right back asleep. Tony would fight a nap with all he had in him, but he took forever to wake up, too. He lulled between awake and asleep for a bit more, even after Steve stood up and started walking around the room, humming softly.

If Tony had been fully awake, he would have demanded Steve put him down. But, as he was, Tony was happy to sap Steve’s warmth as he snoozed until he finally felt himself wake. He lifted his head off Steve’s shoulder and looked around, trying to gain his bearings. He was in his kitchen, still being cradled by Steve as he... did something around Tony’s back. Tony swung his head around to see Steve mixing a pan on the stove full of soup.

“Hey, morning, buttercup,” Steve said softly, rubbing up and down Tony’s back in a soothing motion. “You hungry? I’m about finished with lunch.”

Tony wasn’t really sure about hunger because he just woke up, but he nodded anyway because he didn’t want to miss out on a meal if he didn’t have to. No telling when his next chance would be.

Steve sat him down at the table and took a moment to rummage through Tony’s cabinets before finding a bowl and surveying Tony. It was tomato soup and grilled cheese, something simple and familiar. Tony was greatfull for one less thing to worry about.

“When you’re finished eating, you may want to get changed.” Steve said with a soft kindness Tony wasn’t used to.

When Tony looked down at his clothes and saw he was still dressed for the day, he opened his moth to ask Steve what he meant, but froze when he realized. A blush broke across Tony’s face when he felt the wet padding between his legs pressing uncomfortably against his legs. He ducked his head and tried to eat his soup without thinking about it, but he was failing miserably. His stupid body had given out on him, most likely whilst he was asleep, and then Steve had been carrying him and he must have noticed if he was saying something about it. The whole situation had Tony ready to duck his head under sand and stay there for a million years.

He had a wet diaper in front of Captain America, for Christ’s sake.

Although, Tony figured it could have been worse. Steve could’ve tried to change him. Just the thought was enough to send Tony’s face to an even darker shade than before.

Tony ran for the bathroom after finishing his food and closed the door behind him a bit harder than needed. He yanked off the offensive wet diaper and threw it in the trash bin with a grumpy huff. For a moment, he was tempted to walk to his dresser and grab a pair of underwear, just to prove he at least still owned them. Then he thought better of it. Wetting a diaper was one thing, wetting his pants was another.

He would rather not do either, but Tony knew that wasn’t a possibility. Obi’s had tried every trick in the book from beatings to bribery, but none of them took. Tony was just too young of a Little to control it and no one could hate it more than he did. Not even Obi.

Tony pulled a thin diaper up to his waist and let it snap in place. It was closer to a pull-up than a diaper, but it worked enough. It rubbed against his rash and Tony had to force himself not to flinch. He’d had worse, no reason to cry about it. Not whilst he was staying with Phil, though. As much as Tony hated having someone change his diaper, his rash went away when Phil did it. And they put him in real diapers—the good ones that didn’t leak or bunch up in uncomfortable places. He kind of missed it, but he would never say so. The trade off was just too much.

Tony could deal with a rash if his only other choice was total annulation if his autonomy. Even Obi hadn’t gone that far.

Another pang of sadness broke through Tony’s chest, this one harder to shove away. He missed Obi. Tony would take all of the bad days if it meant a single good day with Obi again. But that was never going to happen. Obi was dead. And Tony—as much as he tried not to think about it—was alone.

Tony looked in the mirror, hardly able to recognize his own reflection. His hair had gotten longer than Obi would have liked, and his ribs were sticking ever-so-slightly out of his chest. All in all, Tony looked like shit. Not surprising for someone walking around as aimlessly as Tony was. Wade had said that Tony should focus on himself, but Tony hardly knew what that meant, much less how to do it.

He turned away from the mirror and finished getting dressed, then walked back out to the living room. For a moment, he worried Steve had left, then heard the sink going in the kitchen and found him cleaning up from lunch.

Steve looked up, giving Tony a soft smile as he asked, “All good?”

Tony nodded his head.

“Good job!” Steve cheered.

Tony felt a blush break across his face again and ducked his face away. “I’m going back to my lab.”

“Okay, be safe.” Steve replied.

Tony stopped for a moment, thinking that statement over. “Be safe.” Why would Steve tell him to “be safe.” No one ever said that before. Tony shook his head, deciding it must just be some weird Captain America thing and walking to his lab.

Chapter Text

Tower 16

Wade dropped Peter off at home with clear instructions to start on his homework before taking off for the Tower. Vanessa would be home in an hour, just in time for Peter’s usual afternoon nap and giving Wade time to hang with Tony. Wade worried about the kid, and to be honest with himself, if he had half a chance to snatch Tony and bring him home, he would have. Only, that pretty much worked against everything Wade was trying to teach the Little.

First things first, Wade had cut off all of Phil Coulson’s bullshit. Yeah, the guy was coming from a place of love, but he was going about it all wrong. He was used to his Little, Clint, who was a trouble maker, but still an okay kid. Phil enforced the same rules and punishments on Tony as he would Clint, which kept things fair, but almost roped Phil in with Tony’s previous abuser. Phil loved Clint and took care of him well, but Clint was older and hadn’t been through what Tony had.

The kid had his fair share of abuse, Wade could see that clear as day, but Clint’s had started to fade. He was healing under the loving and guiding hand of his Caregiver—the way he should. But Phil had gotten used to a healing Clint and lost all ability to care for such a raw case as Tony. Phil’s heart was in the right place but that didn’t make Wade feel any less like breaking his neck for what he did to Tony. And the other Caregivers, too. Wade didn’t know everything—maybe he never would—but he knew that there was more to Tony’s story than what they were letting on.

As Wade pushed the button for the elevator, he stopped to think about how things had changed. Tony was still hesitant and cautious, but he wasn’t jumpy or skittish. At least there kid wasn’t completely lost to turama, Wade thought.

When he made it to Tony’s apartment, he found Steve Rogers sitting on the couch in Tony’s living room without a Little in sight. The team had taken turns keeping an eye on Tony—which Wade could hardly protest after learning about Tony’s hospital stay, but made sure it on the grounds that they let Tony do his own thing and didn’t invade his privacy. So far, they’d stuck to it.

Steve looked up as Wade walked in, saying, “In the lab,” before Wade got a chance to ask.

Wade nodded a thanks and walked towards the glass door that led to Tony’s lab. Through the window, he could see Tony staring at his computer screen intensely. He had a pen stuck in his mouth and was fiddling with it with one hand whilst the other worked the mouse. Wade smiled—the kid was ridiculously cute.

“Hey, kid.” Wade greeted.

Tony’s head whipped around so fast Wade was worried he may have given himself whiplash. “Wade!”

Wade was tackled in a hug and chuckled, rustling Tony’s hair. When Tony pulled back, Wade asked, “How you doing today?”

Tony shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

“Done anything fun?” Wade asked.

Tony shook his head. “Not really. Bruce and I watched a movie earlier, but I think he just tricked me into taking a nap.”

Wade chuckled. If Bruce got involved, Tony must have really needed the sleep. Bruce was one of the very few people in the Tower Wade approved of because he’d been trying to help, even if he hadn’t succeed. Wade figured that Bruce had seen his fair share of abuse too, and got a hefty dose of anxiety any time he tried to correct any of the dominate Classes.

“I’m sure Bruce was just looking out for you.” Wade said affectionately. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, Steve made lunch.” Tony said, gesturing to the living room where Steve still sat on his phone.

Wade got the feeling that Steve had done some other things too, if the vacuum next to the lab’s door meant anything. He’d probably stayed to clean up a bit. Caregiver instincts were hard to shut off and they had a biological need to help. Wade figured Steve had taken extra care to only do surface-level things to avoid being yelled at. As much as Wade wanting to kick the guy in the nuts, Steve didn’t seem like a bad person. Dumb, maybe, but not bad.

“That’s good. What’re you working on?” Wade gestured towards Tony’s computer screen.

“Research for Clint.” Tony said simply, offering no other explanation

“Sounds fun.” Wade said sarcastically.

Tony nodded his head, not picking up on the sarcasm as he rubbed at his eyes. Wade stopped to wonder if the kid was getting any sleep at night—he looked exhausted, even after a nap. Wade still had Peter at home and bedtimes where a special time for them, so he couldn’t miss them, not even for Tony. But sometimes he wished he could. It was hard to watch Tony struggle so much but not ask for any kind of help.

It occurred to Wade a moment later that maybe Tony didn’t know he could ask for help. But that just seemed silly. Who didn’t know they could ask for help? Thinking you will be given that help, however, was a different matter. You could ask all you want, that didn’t mean you’d ever get what you were asking for. And if you were so sure the answer was going to know, there’d be no reason to even ask.

Wade internally sighed and looked at Tony’s thin frame and hollow face—he’d clearly been losing weight—and wondered how the world could be so mean to such a Little boy.

Wade knew about the Stane guy and what he’d done at S.I. He knew that people were badgering the company for answers to impossibly questions and demanding the CEO give a statement. Tony was considered as a negligent owner, an innocent by-stander, and even the mastermind in a few of the more eccentric tabloids. Wade knew that none of those were true, but he could see why it was so easy to believe. Tony has been kept prisoner, he never showed his face, never spoke at galas, didn’t even attend board meetings. With someone so illusive, it was easy to think the worst of them. None of those papers would ever guess how kind and sweet and loyal Tony was. He was doing all of those things because he wanted to help, to save lies, to end wars. How was he supposed to know all of the bullshit Stane was pulling behind his back.

Wade shook his head, pulling his thoughts away from the tragedy and into the now. He stood up and tapped the table twice as he said, “I’m gonna get some water. Do you want anything?”

Tony just shook his head that was now resting in the palm of his hand, elbow propped up on the desk.

“Okay, be right back.” Wade walked out of the lab and to the kitchen, passing Steve on his way. Good old Captain America was playing on his phone and obviously trying really hard to make it look casual.

Wade rolled his eyes. “What is it, Rogers?”

Steve jumped as he turned around and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, uh,” he licked his lips, “I was just wondering if, uh, if Tony has told you anything about how he’s doing?”

Wade braced himself against the kitchen island and crossed his arms, giving Steve a level look. “Like what?”

Steve looked down for a moment, as if summoning the courage to ask for someone’s left kidney. Wade had to hold back a laugh. The Avengers were such a serious group.

“Like, uh, well,” Steve sighed and pursed his lips before looking up. “He was wiggling a lot at lunch. I think something’s wrong, but I can’t do anything without his permission and I doubt that he’ll—“

“Spit it out, Rogers.” Wade cut off his rambling.

Steve sighed. “Can you ask if he’s got a rash and if he needs help with it?”

Wade huffed a laugh, turning around to grab a cup from the cabinet next to the sink. “Yeah, I’ll ask.”

“Thanks,” Steve said with a smile, which both amused and pissed Wade off.

This ass is obviously—an obnoxiously—a Caregiver, but he was so mean to Tony at first. Wade wanted to hate him, but the way Steve was trying to make up for it made such a negative emotion hard. Although, Wade supposed of he held every wrong thing a person has done against them, he wouldn’t have many friends. Not that he had many friends in the first place, but still.

A loud crashing sound came from the living room, pulling Wade out of his thoughts as he looked at Steve.

“That one of yours?” Wade asked, Steve already jumping to his feet.

“All of ours are out of the Tower,” Steve said with fear and determination as he ran to stick his head into the living room.

A shot broke through the silence, sensing both Steve and Wade to the floor as they ducked to cover their heads. The room was doused in dust and debris, making sight damn near impossible, Wade could hear heavy boots running across the hardwood floors and towards—

Wade’s stomach dropped as he looked at Steve, who’s face had gone pale as the same realization broke across his face.

“Tony!” They shouted at the same time, rushing into the living room blind.

More shots were fired, the sounds so loud in the small room that it set Wade’s ears ringing. There was yelling and screaming and Wade couldn’t pull apart his voice from the others. He was suddenly on the floor, pain blossoming from his head. A man in all black stood above him, the butt of his AR pointed towards Wade.

Wade blinked and suddenly he was staring down the barrel of a gun aimed right at his head. Wade glared at it with determination he’s never before felt. He swung his butt around and, with a thrust from his hips, kicked the guy in the face, sending him sprawling backwards. He smashed against a wall, and Wade almost lost him in the dust if it hadn’t been for a light right above them.

Wade swung with his right, then his left, hooking his right arm between the guy’s elbow and gun, popping his elbow and causing the AR to fall to the floor with a loud thunk. Wade swung his right arm back up and around, landing a fist right on the guy’s check and sending him to the floor. Wade kicked him in the chest for good measure before turning around and trying to find the other men.

Wade’s eyes locked on to two men with an arm looped through each of Tony’s dragging him towards the front door as he kicked and thrashed. Wade sprinted towards them, but was struck in the head before he even had the chance to scream Tony’s name again.

Wade fell as the world went dark.

Chapter Text

Dear readers,

Lately, I’ve been dealing with some pretty massive shifts in my life and, after crashing my car yesterday, have decided to take a step back from my fanfic update obligations for a while. This will not be permanent, all stories are still open and will keep going once my head is on. I’m not sure how long it’ll be, but please hang in there with me. Your support means so much to me and I hope it’ll still be there at the end of... whatever this is.

Updates may come sporadically to stories as inspiration strikes, but I make no promises at the present moment. I’ll keep updates on tumblr as I can (@thegriefpolice).

Thank you for everything, and see you soon,
TGP

Chapter Text

Tower 17

Steve had lunged for the lab door and made it a decent distance before everything broke into chaos. He dove behind the couch as an explosion shook the building. Steve’s thoughts were racing as he tried to take in everything and decided his next move. Wilson stood by the entrance of the kitchen and seemed to be taking care of one of the—what? Robbers? Kidnappers? Terrorists?

The room faded into dust, obscuring any clear view between Steve and the intruders. For the first time in his life, Steve felt like he was completely lost. He had no idea what to do, no idea how to help, not a single clue as to what was going on. All he knew is that the men were there for Tony, and Steve would be damned if he let them touch one hair on his head.

No, Steve hadn’t been the nicest person to Tony—but how were you supposed to react when some recluse is suddenly a part of illegal arms dealing? Steve had been a jackass to someone who was nothing more than a victim in the whole debacle, making everything a million times worse. He hadn’t know Tony was a Little or what he had been through, but Steve hadn’t even given him a chance to defend himself before writing him off with Stane and all of his associates. Steve had been trying to make up for that in every way he could, but there was only so much he could do with Wilson being so controlling and Tony being so scared.

Steve’s eyes landed on Wilson, who seemed to be taking the guy down without any effort, so he turned to look for others. His ears were ringing as he swung aimlessly in the dust until he hand collided with something soft enough to break, but hard enough to hurt. Steve twisted on the balls of his feet as he reached out for the object, catching one of the black-clad men before he could fall to the floor. Steve pulled back his fist and thrust it towards the man’s face. A nice snapping sound echoed around the room—or maybe just through Steve’s skull. Either way, it was satisfying to watch the man crumple to the floor.

A scream broke through the ringing and Steve snapped his head around to where two men were pulling Tony towards the elevator. Without a second thought, Steve ran towards the entrance and grabbed the shoulders of one of the men holding Tony. Steve pulled with his left hand and pushed with his right, effectively throwing the man off his gait and around to face Steve. The move would hurt Tony, Steve knew, but it was that or let Tony be taken and he wasn’t about to allow that.

Steve threw his left fist up, effectively smashing the man’s jaw into his skull. It was enough to hurt, but not enough to knock him out. The man jabbed Steve in the side with his left knee, making a direct hit to Steve’s left kidney. Steve’s eye’s filled with spots as the pain blossomed out, but his adrenaline was too high to be incapacitated by it. He lifted his right foot and jumped onto the ball of his left, thrusting his shoulders counter clockwise and sending his knee straight into the man’s face. Steve watched as the man crumpled to the floor and stayed there, then spun to find the other guy still trying to drag Tony down the hall outside the apartment. Steve’s vision went red as he ran down the hall and, with the least amount of force he could whilst still being effective, yanked Tony away with his right hand whilst his left dove for the last attacker’s face.

It was an interesting move Steve would see later on video from security films. It seemed more graceful that Steve’s burley body would be capable, using the movement of pulling Tony to increase the force of his punch. The man dropped to the ground without another word and Steve watched as blood started to pour from his nose.

Suddenly, Steve became aware of the Little sobbing in his grasp. Steve reflexively released his hold on Tony’s arm when he realized how much force he was using to grip it. That was sure to leave bruises.

Still, better to leave a bruise than let Tony get kidnapped.

Tony was hysterical as he fell to the ground, legs giving out from under him. Steve wasn’t able to catch him in time and the resulting sound of Tony’s butt hitting the carpet made Steve cringe. Tony was screaming as fat tears ran down his face, face bright red with the effort. Steve thought he might be trying to say something, but there was no way to decipher it.

Steve’s instincts went into over drive as he dove his hands under Tony’s arms and lifted him onto a hip. Steve was likely to get in trouble with Wilson for this, but he didn’t care. Tony was a Little in pain and Steve was a Caregiver. He couldn’t just sit around and wait for approval when his whole body was screaming to comfort Tony.

Steve stood in the hall, bobbing Tony as he tried to think of his next move when he saw a figure burst out of the apartment and run right for him.

Chapter Text

Tower 18

“We’ve fucked up.” Wilson said, running a hand down his face as he sat in the chair next to Tony’s bed.

The Little was currently laying in the bed, hooked up to tubes and machines that beeped every half second. It was starting to grate on Steve’s nerves, but they were already thin to begin with.

“You could say that again, yeah.” Steve sighed.

Tony had been malnourished, dehydrated, joundis, and had a severe diaper rash when they got to the hospital. Luckily, the attack hadn’t caused any physical damage. No one knew what was going to happen once Tony awoke, though, and that scared all of them. The Little had already been through hell and back even before the attack.

The hospital door swung open, bringing both Wilson and Steve to their feet.

“What the hell happened?” Coulson demanded, standing by the door with a deathly look in his eye.

“The Tower was attacked.” Wilson said. “Seven armed men in full gear—“

“I know about the men. I want to know why Tony’s in that bed and you too are sitting here doing nothing.”

Steve was taken aback. He’d never heard Coulson talk like that before.

“Hey, don’t act like you didn’t have a hand in that, too!” Wilson shouted, far quicker on his feet than Steve was when it came to come backs. “You’re just as much a part of that as we are.”

“If he had been left in my care, he wouldn’t have been in such bad shape.” Coulson said.

“He ran away from you!” Wilson shouted back. “He was terrified of you!”

Something clicked in Steve’s brain as Phil formed his rebuttal. “Stop it! Both of you!”

All eyes fell on Steve. “Why are we arguing! We all want the same thing! We just want Tony to be happy, right?”

Wilson’s jaw loosened a bit and Coulson’s eyes fell to the floor.

“We can’t fix what we’ve done, but we can change ourselves for the future.” Steve said.

“How do we know what’s best for Tony?” Coulson asked. “Coddling him makes him run away, keeping our distance leaves him unhealthy, it’s a lose-lose.”

“Why don’t we just ask him? See what he wants us to do?” Steve suggested.

“He’s non-verbal half the time, how are we supposed to ask questions.” Coulson asked.

“There’s more than one way to ask a question, Coulson.” Wilson said, rolling his eyes. “We could ask simple yes or no questions, or ask when he’s feeling more conversational.”

“What about things he can’t have a choice in. Diaper changes need to happen.” Coulson asked.

“Yes, but we can give him options. He could change himself or we could do it, but let him know it has to get done.” Steve suggested.

Coulson thought about that for a moment, then nodded his head with a sigh. “You’re right.”

“Quite a change you’ve made, Rogers.” Wilson said with a playful glint in his eye.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Look, I didn’t know he was a Little when news broke. I thought he was in on it somehow and trying to fake his way out of punishment. Now I know better. Tony knew nothing more about this than we did.”

A shadowed look came across Coulson’s face. “Wait a minute. How would anyone know Tony was in the Tower when it was attacked?”

“What?” Steve asked. The change in subjects threw him for a loop.

“The attackers went right for the lap, too. They knew where Tony was and how to get there. We were just a minor road block they didn’t account for.” Wilson responded, arms cross and brow furrowed.

“Are you thinking the attack was an inside job?” Steve asked. “There’s no way. The only people with access codes to the top floors are the Avengers and none of us would have done that.”

“But remember, the attackers didn’t plan on the Avengers being on that floor.” Coulson said.

“Yeah, but everyone else was out of the Tower, right? Maybe they thought Steve was with them.” Wilson said.

“But anyone who had the codes to the top floors also knows when you come by to check on Tony. It was you they didn’t account for.” Coulson replied, a serious look on his face as he thought for a moment.

“So someone with the codes who’s been out of the picture since Wilson’s been around?” Steve asked. “No one’s been gone that long.”

Coulson looked up, eyes wide as he said, “Someone with top access codes who knew where the lab is and has been out of the tower since before Wilson came into Tony’s life.”

Steve brow furrowed as he thought about, and then it clicked. “You don’t think—“

“You where the one who thought someone was faking their way out of a punishment. What if you had just accused the wrong person?” Coulson said.

“Holy shit.” Steve said, slapping his forehead.

“We need to find the autopsy report for Obadiah Stane.” Coulson said.

Chapter Text

Tower 19

Tony woke up screaming his throat raw, thrashing in his blankets until he was freed. Remnants from another nightmare plays tricks on his eyes and every dark shadow became another person trying to take him away. He whipped his hands around, swiping at nothing but still evening air until his arm hit something solid, but soft.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut as he swung again, hitting what he know knew was an arm. Before he could react, he was being pulled from his bed.

“No! No!” Tony screamed as loudly as he could. He didn’t want to be taken! He didn’t want to leave!

“Tony, shuu,” a soft voice broke trough as Tony heaved air into his lungs from his panic. “You’re okay, you’re safe.”

Tony flailed a bit more, but the arms wrapped around his torso were too tight and he couldn’t move much at all. Wait, yes he could. He knew this. What was he supposed to do?

“Slow movements, Tony. Take a breath.” A familiar voice spoke above his head. Tony could feel a few hairs flick around on his head.

Right, he had to breathe. He was safe, he was still in the Tower. It was Steve holding him, not some random attacker. And Steve would let him go as soon as Tony asked. It was one of the agreed-upon rules they had made a few days ago at the hospital with Wade and Phil. Tony had a safe word and everything.

Right then, though, Tony didn’t really want to be put down. He was tired and Steve was warm and steady under his throbbing head. Tony took in a deep breath of Steve’s familiar sent and let it banish all traces of his nightmare to the edges of his mind.

“There we are,” Steve said, loosening his grip and letting Tony sag against his torso more naturally. “We’re safe, we’re happy, everything’s just fine.”

Tony sniffled, pulling his arms to his chest and snuggling in just a bit more. This was about the time that Steve sat him on the changing table before tucking him back into bed, but Tony didn’t want that right now. He just wanted the comfort Steve offered so freely, ready to fall in and drown himself in hugs and kisses.

“Daddy?” Bucky asked from the doorway, rubbing at his eyes.

Steve turned around. “Hey, baby. What are you doing awake?”

Bucky looked at Steve with the sassiest look Tony had ever seen. Something that said, “Why do you think, dipshit,” as Bucky glanced over to Tony.

Tony tucked his face into Steve’s shoulder once more.

“I’m sorry, buddy. Do you want me to come tuck you in again? It’s too early to be awake.” Steve said.

Bucky paused for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay, baby. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there.”

Bucky nodded and walked out. Back to his room to await Steve, Tony guessed.

Steve turned back to the crib and cradled Tony for a bit, rocking side to side. Just as Tony was starting to doze off again, he felt Steve shift as if to set him down. Tony couldn’t have that, though. What if those men came back for him? What if he had another nightmare?

Tony whined and clutched a fistful of Steve’s shirt in each hand, refusing to be set down.

“Tony, baby, I gotta tuck Bucky in.” Steve said, patting Tony’s back.

But Tony didn’t care. He squeezed his arms tighter around Steve and held on for dear life.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go tuck him in together.” Steve finally relented, carrying Tony down the hall towards Bucky’s room.

Bucky’s room was way cooler than the one Tony was staying in. For one, he had a Big kid bed that looked like a race car. No babyish crib or changing table in sight. Bucky also had a TON of toys that Tony wasn’t allowed to play with, which really wasn’t fair, but even Wade had said it was safer for him to play with other stuff. Of course, that just made Tony want to play with Bucky’s things even more. He hardly ever got the chance, though.

Since returning from the hospital, Tony had been staying with Steve as his apartment was cleaned out and restored. Tony had only been up once to grab some of his things and that was it. He wasn’t even allowed in the lab! But he was a bit too preoccupied with everything else to really notice.

“Everything else” being the Avengers who would play with him from dusk til dawn so he didn’t even have much time to think about all the work he was missing. The only problems arose when he was asked about the attack.

He didn’t remember most of it and that seemed to concern everyone. It was scary and Tony didn’t want to remember any more than he did, but everyone seemed to think that he needed to in order to move on. Tony thought forgetting seemed a much better approach.

“Daddy!” Bucky said as he spotted Steve, pulling Tony out of his thoughts. Bucky’s smile instantly faded as he spotted Tony, face darkening.

“Hey Bucky-bear. Ready for nigh-nigh?” Steve asked, somehow able to keep up the loving tone with Bucky’s scary face.

Bucky shook his head, eyes falling to his hands as he fiddled with his fingers.

“Got your blankie?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded, shifting down in the bed and pulling the covers over his shoulder as he laid down, facing away from Steve.

“Hey, what’s all this?” Steve asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “We haven’t even done bunny kisses and you’re tucking yourself in.”

“Don’ wan’ tuck in.” Bucky mumbled, pulling at the blankets.

Steve’s face seemed crestfallen. “Are you sure? You love to be tucked in.”

Bucky nodded his head and Steve sighed.

“Okay, buddy. I love you, sleep tight.” Steve said, standing up and flicking off the light on his way out.

Tony’s stomach twisted as Steve carried him back to his room. Bucky was mad at Steve, and he had a feeling it had something to do with him.

His fears were only magnified the next day when Steve went to feed Bucky breakfast and Bucky refused to eat, sending side glares at Tony when Steve wasn’t looking. Tony’s stomach was in knots, he couldn’t even force more than a few bites down before asking to leave the table. Steve looked at Tony with concern as he stood to leave, but Tony ignored it.

Tony was unsurprised to hear Bucky happily munching away on some crackers as soon as Tony was out of sight.

After a quick diaper change Tony decided to do himself, he went back to the living room to sit on the couch and watch some cartoons. As Tony turned the corner, he stopped dead as he saw Bucky sitting in the couch, longed back against Steve as they watched a movie. Something about the scene had Tony’s heart breaking and the smug look on Bucky’s face when he spotted Tony didn’t help.

Tony ran back to his room and flopped down next to the dresser, pulling his knees to his chest and tucking his head into his elbows. Bucky had been mean to him all week but he’d been especially mean today and Tony couldn’t stand it. No matter where he went, he was hated and used. Steve, who had been really mean at first was now being so kind and Bucky had to go an ruin it! But Bucky was Steve’s first priority, so if the Little didn’t like him... Tony wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to stay with Steve. Phil couldn’t take him and neither could Wade. There was Tasha, but she already had her hands full. Maybe Tony really would be sent to a state facility. He’d never be adopted cause he was too annoying and babyish and he’d end up dying around people that hated him!

When Tony heard his name being called for lunch, he stood and shakily made his way down the hall and to the kitchen. Steve handed a plate to Bucky first, and then to Tony. Steve’s gaze settled on Tony for a moment longer than Tony was comfortable with, but he tried his best to ignore it as he pushed at the pasta on his plate with a plastic fork.

“Having a bad day?” Steve asked, grabbing the fork gently from Tony’s hand. “Bucky, you need to eat or you’re not getting a snack later.”

Tony looked up at Steve as he scorned a pouting Bucky before looking back at the younger Little. Steve’s face morphed into something strange as he said, “You okay, baby? You look like you’ve been crying.”

Tony shook his head in a bold-ass lie, but didn’t offer any other explanation. Steve seemed concerned, but simply lifted the fork full of past to Tony’s mouth. Tony opened his mouth and took the bite, chewing slowly. When he was finished, Steve held up another fork full and Tony opened his mouth again. Tony was just starting to feel a bit better (maybe it was the food, maybe it was the attention) when something hit him square in the forehead.

Tony looked up, shock plastered on his face as Steve swung in his chair and yelled, “James Buchanan, what do you think you’re doing!”

Tony looked down at his tray and the fork that now sat there, then across at Bucky’s pride-turned-pale face.

Bucky’s mouth opened and closed as if he were a fish before he broke down into hysterics.

Steve sighed, setting down Tony’s fork and walking over the Bucky. With one fluid motion Steve had pulled Bucky’s chair away from the table, picked the Little up, and placed him in the corner.

“We will talk when you’ve calmed down.” Steve said sternly before walking back to the dinning room. Steve grabbed a rag from the kitchen and wet it, then walked over to Tony and started wiping down his face. But the more Tony heard Bucky cry, the more he get like he was going to, too. And then he was, crying right along with Bucky in a headache-inducing harmony.

Steve sighed and picked Tony up, cradling him closely. “It’s okay, you’re okay. It didn’t even leave a mark. You’re okay.”

Tony wiggled to be let go—his proximity to Steve had cause this problem in the first place—but Steve didn’t seem to understand. He just kept sushing Tony until a loud knock echoed around the apartment.

Steve sighed, walking over to the door with Tony sobbing in his arms.

“Woah, what’s all this?” Wade asked as Steve opened the door.

“I don’t know, Bucky threw his fork at Tony and now everyone’s crying. They’ve been like this all week!” Steve said, exasperated. He stepped out of the way to let Wade in.

Tony watched through tear filled eyes as Wade walked around the apartment, taking in the mess from lunch and Bucky crying in the corner before he stopped and turned towards Steve with an amused smile. “Ah, I know what this is.”

Steve’s brows furrowed and he stopped rocking for a moment. “What?”

“You, my all-American friend, have got yourself a couple of green-eyed monsters.” Wade said, sauntering over to the table and plopping down.

Tony had no idea what that meant, but Steve seemed to understand right away. “How on earth did I miss that?”

“You seem a bit frazzled.” Wade said, picking at Bucky’s untouched plate. “You’ve got twice the responsibility on your plate right now. It’d be easy to miss of the best of days.”

Steve sighed and slouched down in a chair with Tony on his lap. “I guess.”

Tony felt Steve move more than he saw as Steve ran a hand through his hair in an effort to self-sooth. “I don’t know how people do this, they’re tearing me apart.”

Wade’s eyes landed on Tony for a moment, as if analyzing him. Tony wasn’t sure what Wade was looking for, but he must have found it because his eyes darted away with a satisfied smirk.

“Look, Steve, two Littles aren’t going to be easy, but if you can help them get along a little more, it would go a long way towards preventing stuff like this.” Wade said.

Steve scoffed. “And how do you suppose I do that? They have nothing in common! I’ve been trying to get them to play together all week and they won’t!”

“That’s because they’re not playing with each other, they’re playing with you and some other kid is coming in and trying to steal their attention.” Wade retorted, sitting forward in his chair.

“How do you know so much about this?” Steve asked. “You only have one Little.”

Wade smiled. “Yeah, but we’ve got a wide circle of friends that take off for weeks at a time. My advice is to bring in another party and make it a play date. Someone they both like that can placate a bit.”

Steve sighed, but nodded his head.

At some point, as Tony’s sobs died down and he started drifting into sleep, he heard Steve call Bucky over to talk about what he’d done. It was about half-way through Bucky’s apology that Tony finally drifted off into a light sleep. He could feel Steve stand up a while later, but was right back asleep by the time he was laid down in his crib and tucked in with his beloved rabbit.