Work Text:
"If you don't get your kids moving like, yesterday, I'm out of here on my own,"
"Oh they are my kids now," Steve smiled, straightening up once he'd finished lacing his running shoes. He looked up at his husband, trying to keep from grinning at how nonplussed Sam looked, all ready for their morning jogging, leaning on the kitchen counter with his arms crossed.
"Yes, when they're late, they're your kids. I thought that much was clear."
Steve stifled his laughter, got up, and quirked an eyebrow at him when Sam just kept on staring at him.
"Such a grumpy husband this morning babe,"
Sam sighed, "We said 7, it's almost 30,"
"Teens, love," Steve took the final few steps that allowed him to encase Sam's body with his hands on either side of him on the counter, "teenagers are bound to get late, and on your nerves, joys of being a dad?"
He looked from Sam's eyes to his mouth, still smiling softly at the way Sam tried to keep the angry façade on. Then he brushed their noses together, before slowly leaning the rest of the way and kissing him.
Sam's reaction was a bit delayed, but when it came, Steve had to wind his arms around him, a full-body embrace completing the gentleness of their kiss. “That make you feel better?”
“Getting there,” Sam whispered, his hands roaming over Steve’s back and only barely stopping at the waistband of his sweatpants. He teased the bare skin that always ended up showing when Steve wore one those tee-shirts that everyone said were three sizes too small but which allowed him to feel like he wasn’t wearing anything at all when running. Steve let his gasp die in the crook of Sam’s neck, muffling his humming by kissing the man’s shoulder over his hoodie.
“Ewwww,”
“Oh my God, that’s it, I am scarred for life, I’m calling Tony I’m moving.”
Steve laughed, hardly moving from his husband’s space to look at their kids. He rolled his eyes at the way Melly kept a hand over her eyes, chanting a series of “Is it over? Has world order been restored? Can I open my eyes again and not risk sudden death?” and grinning at how her brother, two years older but none the gentler with his parents, was apparently really texting their uncle for support.
“Glad to see you guys found the way from your bedrooms to the living room, did you take the scenic route or something?” Steve provoked them instead of responding to their fake disgust. He heard Sam huffing a small laugh against his cheek and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye - glad to see any trace of his earlier crankiness was gone.
“So, we goin’ running or what?” Sam clapped his hands, finally separating from Steve to get his keys from the side table near the fridge and throw Jules his own hoodie once he got to rounding up the chair he’d thrown it over the night before.
For all the groaning and feet-dragging their kids could do, Steve was quietly touched that the prospect of joining them on their runs actually put stars in the teens’ eyes.
He watched his family file out the door, Jules tee-shirt not quite tucked all the way into his own sweats and Melly’s micro-plates skipping on and off her back and shoulders in rhythm with her steps, Sam already jogging down the stairs of their apartment building.
Of all the joys of being a dad, this one had to be high on the list. And when he inevitably got Bucky's text a few minutes later, Steve could only laugh, mirthful, and happy.
"Tony said we oughta prep bedrooms for your kids, any idea what that's about?"