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Steve and Tony Stark-Rogers were the definition of Hashtag Couple Goals. Both absolutely stunning humans and genuinely kind and caring, they graced the covers of magazines as much for their Gala appearances as for their charity work.
Tony had taken his family's legacy and made it do a complete 180 after a trip to Afghanistan had gone horribly wrong and showed him the corruption that had seeped into Stark Industries, something he'd always suspected but finally had proof of. He'd gone from a playboy merchant of death to philanthropist family man, and the world had loved following along as he made amends and redeemed himself and brought the Stark name synonymous with doing good in the world.
Steve had seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the public's eye. Just a regular guy, who happened to look like a Chippendale model and Greek statue had procreated to bring to life his shoulder to waist ratio sporting an unfair number of abs. Rumour mills stated he'd rendered Tony smitten and stolen his heart after they'd first met, and the rest was history. Steve now headed most of Stark Industries’ related charities, sold various art pieces for ludicrous amounts of money (all going to said charities), and now, a few years after their lavish wedding at their Hampton home – for which they'd sold all the pictures and exclusive access to Vogue for a hefty donation to the Maria Stark Fund – was a stay-at-home dad to the couple's adopted son, Peter.
For all the world, they were The Stark-Rogerses: one of the most powerful and beloved couples and families in the public eye.
But really, Steve and Tony were just like everyone else.
Perfectly normal people.
~*~*~
“Papa?”
“Yeah, Petey Pie,” Steve answered as he set the plate of KD and wieners in front of his picky four-year-old, before grabbing his and his husband's plates of pasta carbonara and scallops.
“You spoil me,” Tony whispered to him when Steve set the plate before him, earning himself a kiss.
“I just really didn’t want KD for the third time this week,” Steve answered back just as quietly.
“Harry's dad talk ‘bout you today,” Peter said casually between large bites of food, which Steve needed to remind him not to do.
“That's the Osborne kid, right?” Steve asked Tony, who nodded in response, his brow narrowing a fraction.
“What was Harry’s dad saying, Pumpkin Pete?” Tony asked.
“I not a punkin,” Peter pouted at his dad, and Steve had to hide a smile behind a bite of scallop. “He said to Lizzy’s mama that papa has a twophy. We don’t have twophies here?”
Steve mouthed the word trophy, trying to put together what in the world Peter was getting to and had overheard. Next to him, Tony let out a soft relieved sigh.
“Chew your food, Pete,” Tony reminded him. “And Papa doesn’t have a trophy. It’s an expression adults use sometimes-" Tony frowned as he obviously struggled to find words to explain to their child just what it meant.
As he often did, Peter made it simple for them. “Oh. I just wan’ed to see it.”
Steve looked to Tony with a questioning look, getting a shake and I’ll tell you later look from him as Peter went on about arts and crafts.
When they were doing dishes a while later, Steve brought the topic back.
“Oh Lord, it’s dumb,” Tony started with a chuckle. “Norman's an ass, first of all. And he thinks all you are is a trophy husband. That you just sit around here and paint and manage a ton of staff to do all the things while you eat chocolate dipped strawberries and drink champagne all day.”
“What? That's ridiculous,” Steve hissed out, trying not to rouse Peter from where he was drawing at the table.
“I know, babe. Sadly, lots of the folks in my type of position marry trophy spouses. Just a gorgeous, usually younger, human to look good at charity events and not for love. They think our cutesy, lovey-dovey, PDA filled pics and articles are all PR stunts. Sadly, we fit the stereotype pretty well.”
“You know I love you, right?” Steve answered, feeling truly pained by his explanation – more so for others in that situation than himself.
Tony just smiled and pulled Steve in for a kiss, soft and gentle. “I absolutely know. I love you too.”
Peter ran up to them waving his drawing at them. “Look what I draw!”
Steve wiped his hands and Tony grabbed the paper Peter was waving at them. Steve picked up his son, looking at the paper Tony was holding.
“Is this person flying?” Tony asked.
“Ya, he's a soup-hewo-"
“A superhero,” Steve corrected him, smiling at Peter.
“He looks really cool, bud. That’s going on the fridge.” Tony went to the refrigerator and moved some magnets around to secure the sheet of paper.
“You know I love you tons, right baby boy?” Steve told Peter, not for the first time that day.
“Wuv you too, Papa.”
Steve could tolerate many things, but anyone questioning his love for Tony and Peter was not one of them.
“Papa, the cooless thing happen today,” Peter yelled as he ran into Steve's arms.
Steve scooped him up, peppering his face with kisses before walking back to their car. Steve had gotten used to the soft ooh-ing and aah-ing from the other parents at pre-school pickup – 98% of whom were women – and the scowling glare from Norman Osborne (on the days when he showed up) as he sat in his Bentley, waiting for his driver to close the door behind his son after he made his way into the car.
Steve ignored them all, leaning back against his SUV with Peter still in his grip. “What was so cool today, Pete?”
“We met sup- soup- superhewoes,” he announced proudly once the word left his mouth. When Steve repeated the sentence to make sure he understood properly, Peter nodded quickly. “Weal ones too.”
Steve felt himself tense up. “Wow, that's neat. There wasn’t any danger to school, right?”
“Nah, they juss came to say hi.”
“I don’t think I can top that, bud.” Steve pushed himself off the Audi, opening the door to strap Peter into his booster seat. “The coolest part of my day was the cute puppy I saw on my run this morning.”
“Puppies are gweat too!” Peter proceeded to ask questions about the dog Steve met for all of two minutes during the entirety of their 13-minute drive home.
“DADDY! Papa saw a puppy this morning,” Peter announced excitedly as he ran into the penthouse and to Tony who was stretched out on the couch, reading a report.
“And you kept such fascinating information from me all day?” Tony exclaimed to Steve in mock indignation as Peter jumped on top of him for a hug, making him groan in pain. “I’ll make sure Papa tells me all about it tonight. How was your day, mister man? Make any fun things? Learn new shapes?”
“We met the Vengers today,” Peter told his dad. Steve had finally reached the couch, after organizing Peter's bag and shoes and jacket in the entrance, and dropping his lunchbox on the counter.
“Wait, you said you met superheroes earlier,” Steve remembered, sitting at Tony's feet, propping them on his lap and rubbing his ankles and legs. “You didn’t say you met the Avengers.”
“It was! They talk about what to do if bad people come talk to us,” Peter explained very seriously.
He was quite familiar with this talk, much to his parents' chagrin, but it was a necessity given who Tony was, and who their family was. And Tony had no doubt that a few other kids in that class – a private school for the time being – had heard a version of this speech too.
“I’m sure the Avengers you met had very powerful words of wisdom on avoiding bad people,” Tony chimed in with as much of a straight face as he could. “Do you remember who it was that went?”
“Yeah.” Peter started jumping on Tony’s thighs, forcing Steve to sweep him into his arms before he caused his husband permanent damage. “Black Widow an my fave Avenger came,” he giggled as Steve held him partly upside down over him.
“Your favourite Avenger?” Tony asked, perking up.
“Yeah, Hot Guy!”
Steve and Tony just stared at each other.
“I don’t think I’m familiar with that Avenger, baby. What do they do?” Tony asked, clearly confused by the name.
“Is it the one with the hammer? Or the shield maybe?” Steve suggested, ignoring the eye roll from Tony.
“No, he shoots awwows,” Peter answered, pretending to strike a pose as an archer.
“Oh! Hawkeye!” Tony corrected him with a laugh.
“Really? That's your favourite Avenger,” Steve couldn’t help but ask.
“He had a neat bow, and cool glasses. Can I go play?” Peter asked, squirming out of Steve's grasp.
“Sure, bud,” Steve said, trying not to let his dejected tone be noticed too much.
Soon, his lapful of Peter was replaced by his husband.
“You okay?” Tony asked him biting back a smile.
“Absolutely splendid,” Steve answered in his most sarcastic tone.
“We knew this day would come.”
“But Hawkeye? Really!?” Steve whined. Before he or Tony could add much else, Tony's phone rang with Pepper's ringtone, which meant he couldn’t ignore her.
“We'll talk about it tonight,” Tony kissed him quickly as he plunged for the phone on the coffee table while Steve went to get started on the meatloaf he'd planned for dinner. With a side of KD for Peter.
Steve tried to let it go, but it had been hard when every other sentence out of his son's mouth that evening was about Hawkeye or the Avengers. Thankfully, when he tucked him into bed, Peter hugged him tightly and told him he would always be his favourite Papa. There was at least that.
He went back to the living room, where Tony was waiting for him with a movie that didn’t look familiar queued up. Steve crashed onto the couch and let himself fall sideways onto Tony's lap.
“Are we still upset over where a 4-year-old’s allegiances lie?” Tony asked, carding his fingers through Steve's hair.
“Not just any 4-year-old. My 4-year-old,” Steve grumbled. “And it wasn’t even Clint and Nat there, I asked them. They had cheap knock offs of us.”
“Sweetheart, he doesn’t know.” Tony started scratching Steve's back, pulling a pleased moan from him.
“I’m not a cat you know,” Steve said and then proceeded to make a wounded noise when Tony stopped. “I didn’t say to stop.”
“Oh my god, Cap, you are so whiny right now,” Tony laughed fondly, resuming his scratching of Steve's back, moving it to his hair and arms for good measure. He kept it up a few minutes and Steve knew he was being completely irrational, but it still hurt. “I promise you, when we can finally tell him, there's no doubt in my mind Clint will be dethroned. And, in case it was not obvious enough, we are never telling Hawkass about this, ‘cause he will hold it over us forever.”
“Yeah, Clint’ll be dethroned by you!” Steve pouted. He sat himself up and tried to ignore Tony's concerned yet amused face. “You’re a freaking walking, talking robot. He loves that shit! Way cooler than a guy who can throw a frisbee around.”
“Babe, come here,” Tony tried to pull Steve to him but there was no use, he'd planted himself like a tree and nothing would move him. So, Tony moved himself back into Steve's lap, like he'd done earlier that day. “First of all, if there's one thing I’ve learned in the three years Pete's been with us it is to not come between that little boy and his Papa, because he loves you more than I think he loves me or Cocoa Puffs. Assuming this never gets out, even if we wait until he's twenty to tell him about us? I have no doubt you’ll be his favourite. By a few thousand miles.”
“He loves you too,” Steve countered, wrapping his arms around Tony's waist.
“I know he does, but you’re just a notch above. I don’t blame him one bit.” Tony smiled at him, that great smile that made his eyes crinkle with laugh lines and shine so bright. “And second, you are Captain fucking America. You don’t just throw a frisbee around and if I hear you talk badly about my husband that way again-"
“I apologize for interrupting, Sir, but Agent Coulson needs to speak to you urgently,” JARVIS interrupted them. “There seems to be an incident at Oscorp that requires intervention by the Avengers.”
“Shit,” Tony breathed out. “I was actually looking forward to a quiet night in and going to bed early. Tell Agent Agent I’ll take the call from downstairs in a bit.”
“Can you call Happy for us, JARVIS?” Steve asked.
“Already done, Captain.”
“It always makes me laugh when you defend me so fiercely, considering how much you hated me when we met,” Steve recounted after they’d checked up on Peter, finding their son starfished on his bed, in a mountain of teddy bears.
“True, but I like the PR line for that one better. Love at first sight, soulmates, all that jazz.” Tony waited for Steve to grab the shield from the special hidden compartment in their walk-in closet and followed him back to the living room and the elevator. “Seriously, do supervillains not need sleep? Is that a thing? Maybe I need to turn evil so I never need to sleep again and can do all the things on my to-do list.”
“Tony, if that were the case, every parent in the city would have turned by now.”
“Hmm, true.” They boarded the elevator as JARVIS confirmed Happy was on his way up from his floor.
Steve turned to Tony. “Wait, Oscorp. That's-"
“Yup, Norman's company.”
“You don’t think…”
“I have no clue, but if it is, he's about to find out just how kick ass my trophy husband is.”
Steve laughed, pressing his lips to Tony's quickly. “If the world only knew.”
Tony smirked up at him, the picture of innocence. “No idea what you’re talking about. We're just two boring idiots in love.”