Work Text:
Tony grimaced as he checked over Bucky’s mechanical arm, working the joints and rotations. He asked plainly, “What did you do to your arm? Stick it in a socket?”
“Very funny, Stark,” Bucky deadpanned.
“No jokes here, Skywalker, you put this thing through the wringer.” Tony pushed his wheeled chair across the polished concrete floors of the workshop to reach the adjacent bench, picking up a small laser and multitool. He paused for a moment, asking over his shoulder, “Nothing hurts?”
“Just my pride.” Bucky adjusted his posture a bit on the workbench, angling himself so that Tony could better reach his shoulder when he rolled back to his side. The two of them sat in a relatively companionable silence, nothing but the whirring of gears in Bucky’s arm and the low hum of gadgets in the workshop piercing the quiet between them.
Except, occasionally, the lawnmower-like snores coming from the soft leather couch on the other side of the tower's workshop. Both of their heads whipped up at the sound, immediately zeroing in on the body of Steve Rogers curled up on the cushions and buried under one of the spare throw blankets.
Another snore, louder this time. Tony and Bucky stared at each other for a short moment before falling into a fit of snorted giggles and stifled wheezes.
“Oh, man,” Bucky gasped, wiping barely-there tears from the corner of his eyes with his flesh hand. “He still sleeps like a fuckin’ bear, that’s hilarious.”
“It’s worse when he gets sick, let me tell you,” he lamented. Tony shouldered his laugh, turning around in his seat to watch the large lump on the couch that resembled his husband. The top of his disheveled blond hair peeked out from under the blankets. For a moment Tony stayed there, observing a sleeping Steve as his chest rose and fell, punctuated by more heavy, staccato snores.
Steve hated when he got sick, no matter how short the bouts were now thanks to the serum, but he always managed to smuggle himself into Tony’s workshop to be near him because he was a baby like that. (Tony would poke fun at him for it but knowing that his husband felt marginally better with him close by always warmed his heart.)
There was excited knocking that came from the entrance to the workshop. Through the glass, Tony spotted the smiling faces of his daughter and mother-in-law, fresh from their trip around the city. The door unlocked just as Sarah tapped in the code, and Morgan’s quick footsteps soon followed.
“Papa, guess what, guess what!” she crowed, running straight through the workshop and immediately into Tony’s waiting arms. “We just –”
“Shh, shh. Maguna, your daddy’s trying to rest,” Tony said, playfully pinching her nose between his fingers briefly. He stifled a groan when he lifted her into his lap, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ears.
“Oh, sorry,” she whispered, turning her head back to glance at her other father on the couch.
“What kind of trouble did you and your grandmother get up to today, Little Miss?” Bucky asked her, picking up the multitool and closing up his mechanical arm.
“You better choose your next words wisely, James,” Sarah pointedly said, stepping into the workshop with a raised brow.
Morgan’s smile seemed to brighten up as she faced Tony and her uncle, one of her hands finding purchase at the nape of Tony’s neck. He felt her scratch absentmindedly as she softly answered, “Mimi and I walked to the café a few streets over to buy some soup for Daddy. She said it might help with his cold.”
Tony watched as Sarah made her way over to the couch and placed the plastic takeout bag (with, he assumed, the aforementioned soup container) onto the nearby coffee table. She sat by Steve’s head, moving to touch his neck and forehead, before carding a comforting hand through his hair.
Steve stirred for the first time, poking his head out from the blanket and blinking wearily up at his mom. From where he sat, Tony could see a soft smile spread onto his husband’s lips, cheeks still flushed with fever. “Hey, Ma,” Steve muffled, shifting an arm under him so he could sit up.
“Have some chicken soup for you, a pheata,” Sarah said, pushing back the damp hair that had matted across Steve’s forehead.
“And animal crackers!” Morgan exclaimed suddenly, wiggling out of Tony’s hold and sliding back to the floor. She hustled over to the coffee table and started rummaging through the bag, pulling out a small package of Barnum's. “I know they’re you’re favorite,” she said, climbing onto the couch and dropping into Steve’s lap.
“Thanks, my love,” Steve said with a wide grin, sitting up further and leaving a light peck to Morgan’s hair. There were still dark smudges under his eyes and redness on his face, but Tony noted that his husband looked a lot better now than he did mere hours ago.
He and Bucky sat quietly as Sarah, Steve, and Morgan unpacked the soup and started talking amongst themselves. Tony felt his cheeks burning slightly, his grin so wide and his heart so full at the sight before him.
“I’m glad Stevie got his apple pie life like he always wanted,” Bucky said softly, the same smile mirrored on his face.
“Well, sans the white picket fence,” Tony chuckled.
