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When Steve and Tony first announced that their surrogate was pregnant, Clint, the only other Avenger with children, came up to them to tell them that everything about their lives was about to change.
“Especially the holidays,” he’d chuckled. “You think you guys like Christmas now? Just wait until you’re celebrating with a kid.”
It’s not that Steve hadn’t believed him. But after spending almost a decade with Clint’s kids, including a couple Christmases, he’d thought that he had a good handle on what holidays with kids were like. The kids will be excited, the parents will be less so, there will be shenanigans involving what time the kids are allowed to get up, and at some point, someone will set the turkey on fire.
And then Morgan was born.
Only eight months old, Morgan isn’t even old enough to remember this Christmas, but Steve has found himself going all out for the holiday with a fervor that’s only matched by his husband’s. Decorating the tree immediately after Santa came down 34th Street on the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade? Check. Gingerbread houses (multiple because Tony insisted that obviously they had to have a custom-designed one of Avengers Tower on top of the regular from-a-kit house)? Check. Two holiday photoshoots, a fancy one for Christmas cards and a silly one to put on the mantle? Double check. Tony had gone one step further by organizing a gift fund for underprivileged children in New York in Morgan’s name.
And now it’s Christmas morning and, well, Morgan has woken them up the same way she usually does: by crying for breakfast.
“It’s your turn to take care of her,” Tony grumbles sleepily, rolling over onto his stomach and dragging Steve’s pillow on top of his head.
Steve chuckles at his disgruntled husband, carefully tugs the pillow away (he learned real fast that he had to watch his strength during their morning tug-of-war game or else he’d wind up with a destroyed pillow), and leans in to kiss Tony’s cheek. “It’s Christmas, sweetheart.”
Tony blinks at him for a moment. “Christmas?” he asks, understanding dawning in those gorgeous eyes that Steve adores so much.
“Mmhmm,” Steve hums.
“It’s Morgan’s first Christmas,” Tony states.
“Yep.”
“Holy shit,” he exclaims, waking up fully. He sits up, hair resembling nothing so much as a bird’s nest. “It’s Morgan’s first Christmas.”
Steve laughs as Tony practically flies out of bed, following at a more sedate pace while Tony throws on clothes and sprints into the nursery to gather up their daughter. He doesn’t follow Tony all the way into the nursery, just leans up against the door to watch his husband coo at Morgan to distract her while he changes her diaper. Morgan babbles cheerfully back at him, having recently learned how to say “dadadadadada” (they’re still working on getting her to say “papa” for Steve, but it’ll come eventually). After a minute, he continues on into the kitchen, pulling out cereal for Morgan and breakfast casserole and cinnamon rolls for him and Tony that they’d prepped yesterday.
Tony joins him a few minutes later, Morgan cradled in his arms. He sets her in her highchair and crosses the kitchen to give Steve a very welcome kiss.
“Merry Christmas, darling,” he says, beaming at Steve.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve replies, giving him another kiss.
To their delight, Morgan had turned out to be an eager eater, uninterested in throwing her food if it could go in her mouth instead. It means that they’re able to get through her breakfast quickly while the oven is preheating for their food. Once she’s finished, Steve whisks her off to her playpen next to the Christmas tree while Tony cleans up her highchair. She babbles happily at the bright lights on the tree as Steve sorts through the presents to find one for her.
By the time he’s found one, Tony has joined them, settling on the floor next to Steve and tangling their feet together.
“And what do we have for our little Morgan-pie?” Tony asks, taking the present from Steve’s hand. Morgan isn’t quite at the stage yet where she can tear the wrapping paper herself, but it’s small enough that he lets her hold it until she tries to put it in her mouth.
“Nope,” Steve says, swooping in to pluck it out of her hand. “We don’t do that.” Forestalling a temper tantrum, Tony quickly replaces the present with her favorite stuffed animal.
“Oops,” Tony says sheepishly while Morgan gums at her pig.
“Yeah, let’s not do that again.”
The present, from Pepper, is a designer dress for Morgan in midnight blue taffeta with silver sparkles, clearly meant for New Year’s. Morgan burbles something unintelligible at it, clearly delighted by the sparkles. No one can say that she isn’t her father’s daughter, as interested in shiny things as Tony is.
They go through the presents quickly, more enamored of Morgan’s reaction to each one than of the presents themselves. They’re all fantastic presents, of course, but the real appeal is watching their daughter’s eyes light up when she sees something she likes. She might not be able to process what it is just yet, but she clearly loves the soft stuffies that Clint got her and the shiny shoes that Nat bought.
There are presents for the two of them, obviously. Not as many, since both of them are more interested in giving presents than receiving them. This year, they’d both picked out charities for their friends and family to donate to on their behalf instead, so the only presents under the tree for them come from each other. Tony even managed not to go overboard this year (Steve suspects, however, that that’s because he went overboard on the repulsor-powered rocking horse for Morgan instead).
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Steve says dryly, swapping out the plaid shirt he was wearing for the Iron Man ugly Christmas sweater instead.
“Any time,” Tony says blithely, already wearing a matching Captain America sweater that he’d whipped out when Steve had opened his.
Morgan says, “Dadadadadadadada.”
“That’s right, honey,” Tony tells her. “Dada.”
“Dadadadadadada.”
“Can you say Papa?” Steve tries.
“Dadadadadadada.”
Tony snorts and leans into the playpen to drop a quick kiss on Morgan’s head. “Clearly, she knows who the superior parent is.”
Steve rolls his eyes fondly, so in love that it hurts. Tony had been so scared before Morgan’s birth that he’d be an awful parent, as bad as Howard was to him, but look at him now. He’s their daughter’s favorite, and Steve can’t even blame her because Tony is his favorite too.
Eventually, all of the presents are open. Morgan is gleefully banging her new blocks together. Tony is half-asleep, curled up in Steve’s lap. Steve watches It’s a Wonderful Life on the TV, idly stroking through Tony’s curls as he thinks that yes, it really is a wonderful life. He’d never thought that he would get to have this. He’d thought that he would put the plane in the ice and that would be the end of it. But now, all these decades later, he’s more than just happy. He’s content with his life, at peace with how it’s turned out, and so in love that it steals his breath away.
“You know, we can never tell him this,” Tony murmurs sleepily, nudging his nose against Steve’s chin, “but Clint was right. It really is something special with a kid.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees softly as Morgan giggles.