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Tony was a little. It’s hard not to be in fact. It’s not biology, like some idiots will try to sell you. It’s not some compulsion . People who wet the bed aren’t more likely to be little than people who don’t. There’s nothing in this damn world that says you have to be little unless you want to. Even Howard had understood. He might not have been the best father in the world, but he wasn’t a big enough dick to tell a kid he couldn’t be little just because it didn’t fit in with his perfect image.
Hell, he didn’t have to say anything though. He tried to stand off to the side, and be polite about it. When a twelve year old Tony would excitedly show him a picture he’d drawn -Howard still wasn’t sure if it was a horse or a car, but the picture had stayed in a drawer in Howard’s study till the car accident, and that was telling on how much he didn’t care - Howard would try and be excited with him. Most of the time, he succeeded, and that was more than enough, because he tried .
Of course, Tony Stark was too damn smart for his own good. Howard had tried to hide it. He wasn’t being a dick about this. But, Tony still knew. Howard may not have wished that Tony wasn’t a little, but he sure as hell thought it would have been easier to raise a kid who wasn’t.
Tony knew he was a bit of a handful already. He knew that, and he knew that his dad already gave him everything he could with what he needed. Tony couldn’t resent him for that.
So, when he felt the urge to be younger… back when he was still a teen… Tony ignored it.
Like it’s been said, being little isn’t a compulsion . It was what you wanted . It’s what made you happy .
Tony has long since learned that being happy isn’t the worst thing in the world, far from it, sometimes it’s the only thing keeping you sane.
So Tony squashed down any qualms, while building walls in ways that hurt just as much as being little felt good.
It was years before he even realized there was something wrong with that. Why would there be anything wrong with keeping yourself from going that extra mile? But… there was.
Tony didn’t go that extra step. He wasn’t a baby , and he didn’t need a caregiver.
Rhodey and Pepper and Happy were all he needed.
Sometimes, he thinks that Happy would make a good daddy, but Happy doesn’t actually seem to be interested in littles other than Tony, and even then, he was just a babysitter. Tony loved the big lug. He always had a hug for little boys, and never had to have any of Tony’s drawings explained to him.
He was amazing. But he wasn’t Tony’s daddy.
Rhodey was the bestest big brother ever. Rhodey wasn’t exactly caregiver material, since Tony’s little side actually seemed to bring out a middle side of him. He liked playing with video games and cuddling Tony when he needed it, but he wasn’t a caregiver either. He was amazing, and Tony wished that he could see him every day instead of just occasionally. He was like, Tony’s soulmate, but more like, Tony’s bro mate. Not like, someone Tony was in love with, but like, someone that Tony wants to be around forever because he was awesome.
But he wasn’t a caregiver.
Pepper was the awesomest auntie ever. She always had candy in her purse, or a toy for him to play with -because, sometimes the only way to distract him was giving him something he could fiddle with- and she made him food to eat, and to take naps. At one point, Tony had wanted to call her Mommy. But… that just didn’t work out. He loved her, and she was still an amazing auntie, but it just didn’t fit like he wanted it to.
Pepper might be a caregiver, but she wasn’t his mommy.
Tony had said ‘whatever’ to that whole idea, because, no one really needs caregivers. Sure, sometimes, for littles who got so small, or wanted to get so small, and couldn’t have jobs because of it, it was helpful. Having caregivers was good for teenagers who weren’t legal yet, and would be on the streets otherwise. Tony… was neither of those things. He was quite happy working -even if it was just on new projects and being a superhero, it was nothing to scoff at- and he didn’t need any help staying off the streets.
He didn’t, logically, need a caregiver, those fucked up scientists that tried to prove that being little was a compulsion, and they should be declared legally incompetent be damned. Tony Stark would go on a murdering rampage before he let someone force him to be anything other than he was. He’d go on one before he watched the friends he had made, and wonderful people all around him, forced to act like sweet little baby infants -no matter if they wanted to or not, no one should ever be forced to- because of some assholes issues with needing power over helpless people.
Hell, Clint and Phil would happily help him, he knew that part for sure.
Tony Stark, was no one’s baby boy… unless he said so.
Too bad, no one’s yet given him a reason why he should be. He feels a pang of regret over that fact, and it burns in his chest, and he wonders if maybe he’s going about this the wrong way. He was too damn old to be regreting this much of his life lived mostly unfulfilled, but it’s the way it was. Maybe some day, someone will finally give him a good enough reason to break those finally walls, because they felt like a scar on his mind, and he doesn’t want it to crumble and split open.
***
Tony glared at the sandwich Steve had put in front of him, and picked up his sippy cup with a slight growl forming in his chest.
Steve and Bucky were something else. Two super soldiers frozen in a plane for seventy years, and now they seemed to be the bane of Tony’s existence.
The worst part about the two of them? He liked them.
They were both daddies, and had immediately bonded with Phil, what with the three of them all being the most boring daddies of all time, and what with them all living in the tower now, they started expecting things of him.
It wasn’t that bad, but every bit of it felt like someone was tearing a little of that crumbling wall in his mind, like he was getting closer and closer to forming a scar, about to bleed out.
Phil was constantly trying to get him to play with Clint, and usually, with that weird kid, Peter that he brings home sometimes. Peter was weird, and had some type of radiation that made him stick to things, but Tony liked him.
Clint… was clingy. He spent more than his fair share of time hugging people. Normally, Tony wouldn’t even care, but sometimes, being cuddled on the big couch with Phil on one side, and Clint nearly pulling Tony into his lap, he was hugging him so much, on the other, made Tony wish he could just snuggle into them and suck his thumb, and maybe, maybe he’s dozed off one too many times and woken up in his own bed, which felt both comforting and a little scary in ways he didn’t want to think about.
He tried to pretend that Clint probably carried him up to bed, since the archer was more than strong enough to do it, but he knew it was probably Steve or Bucky that did it.
He didn’t know why, but everyone expected him to act like a little all the time. He didn’t need to make sure to eat any meals, because Bucky or Steve always made them for him. When they weren’t there, Phil would get him to come upstairs with them and cook for him and Clint. Those times were nice, because Phil always let them watch a movie or cartoons afterwards, and Clint had the most amazing lego collection ever created, and Tony could build anything he wanted!
But, sometimes, like now, he’d come upstairs at just the wrong time, and Bucky or Steve would make him go into the kitchen and eat something.
Ugh. He didn’t need a sippy cup right now, he was perfectly adult.
They always made him use stupid toddler stuffs when he was upstairs. The sandwich didn’t have it’s crusts cut off -which makes sense, because Steve and Bucky grew up in the great depression, that would have seemed like a waste to them, and Tony liked his crusts, thank you very much- but it was in triangles, and it was toasted, like Tony liked. Tony always liked it when his bread was toasted.
There were grapes on the side, and Tony picked one up, noting that it wasn’t a green or red one, it was a dark purple, and plump as anything. He liked his grapes purple and plump. He hated the other kinds, they were too sour or dry tasting.
Why does this giant stupid lug know so much about him?
Tony lifted up the sippy cup, and took an experimental suck from the tip, finding it pleasantly full of orange-mango juice. That’s good, because he liked fruit juice, and it wasn’t from a big company, because it didn’t taste like gross chemicals. It was fresh.
Steve came back into the room and sat down across from him, and frowned a little bit, before biting into his own -plain, turkey- sandwich. “What’s wrong, bud? You don’t like your lunch?”
Tony frowned right back. “I don’t need a sippy cup, you know.”
Steve watched him take a delicate, very neat, bite out of the corner of his sandwich, and got a thoughtful look on his face. “I… do littles now days not like things like that anymore? Clint loves his sippy cups, and Peter always uses bottles, I just assumed you would, I’m sorry.”
Tony shrugged, “I like them, when I’m in littlespace. I’m not right now.”
Steve cocked his head to the side, face shocked. “Pardon?”
Tony resisted the urge to snicker at the face, because Steve and Bucky were stupid or something, and thought any sign of him enjoying himself at all, meant he was a very small baby. “You know, littles don’t always feel little. Sometimes we feel big. Believe or or not, outside of littlespace, I’m actually a functioning adult… almost, well, it’s arguable, but there are times when I’m not little, is the point.”
Steve blinked a few times, “Uh… oh. I’m sorry.”
Tony nodded, looking a little happier now that he was understood. “Good.”
He kept eating lunch like that, legs swinging under the table, in a much better mood.
***
Tony is an idiot. No, really, he is. He was doing just fine and dandy on his own, being his own person and not needing his own caregiver.
The fuck happened, you say? Well, he got stupid and decided it didn’t sound like that bad of an idea, is what happened.
TL;DR: He kind of fucked the wonder daddies is what happened.
Okay, actually, the fucking happened after the first time he called them Daddy and Papa, but we’re actually not here to talk about that, we’re here to talk about how big of a dunce, Tony Stark is.
Tony batted at the fingers combing through his hair. Normally, that would feel amazing, but it was waking him up, and he kind of wanted to kill whoever was doing it, because he’s tired , and it’s too hot and his tummy hurts .
He doesn’t want to wake up, please and fuck you.
“Come on, baby boy, open those big eyes for me? It’s time to get up.”
Tony opened up his eyes, and proceeded to make a loud, high pitched whining noise. “Can’t.”
Bucky frowned, “Oh no, what’s wrong, baby boy?”
Tony curled around on his stomach a little, “Hurts.”
Bucky nodded, gently extracting Tony from his blanket nest. “Okay, baby, Papa’s gonna help, okay? Jarvis, where are the thermometers?”
“In the bathroom’s medicine cabinet.” Bucky nodded, picking up his little under one arm and using the other to rub his back for him. “Come on, just snuggle with Papa now, everything is gonna be okay.”
He opened up the cabinet and rifled around for a minute. “Uh… Jarvis, I think maybe thermometers have changed a bit in the last seventy or so years… I can’t find it. Why is there so much shit in here?”
“...I believe that package next to your right thumb will actually work better than a traditional thermometer will.”
Bucky frowned. “The fuck is… why are there stickers in the cabinet?”
He pulled out the package with a frown, eyebrows going up. Tony lazily turned his head against Papa’s shoulder, looking at the package with fuzzy eyes. Papa’s hand had stopped rubbing his back, which is a no-no, because Tony needs those back rubs to survive , please and thank you. “I want the buggy shaped one.”
Bucky shrugged. The package said it was temperature stickers. He might as well. He peeled the thing open, and pulled out one of the sheets. The stickers were thick and had cute shapes on them. He peeled one off, and Tony reached up to sluggishly pull his hair off his forehead. Bucky hummed in thanks and stuck the sticker to Tony’s forehead there. “Okay… now what?”
“Wait two minutes for the sticker to reach young Sir’s body temperature.”
Bucky nodded, looking at the mirror while he went back to rubbing his tired little’s back. Steve wasn’t there right now, off on a mission for SHIELD, and so he was stuck at home, with what appeared to be a sick baby. He frowned. “Jarvis, you got any idea what Tony’s got?”
Jarvis was quiet for a few seconds. “His symptoms most likely seem to indicate, a short length bug. I have already informed Doctor Banner and he will be by shortly to look him over.”
Bucky nodded. He was using to fragile humans since Steve used to get sick so often, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t awful thinking about his little boy being icky. “Thanks.”
***
Tony, while sick, was clingy. Bucky wished a little bit that Steve was here, because he was the one that Tony normally clung to when he needed attention. Which, oddly didn’t happen often.
Though, right now, he couldn’t help but be just a little please by the way that Tony seemed woe to let him out of his sight for very long. He was standing in the living room, gently swaying with the little as he tried humming Tony back to sleep. Steve could usually manage it, but something must have been off, because tony stubbornly clung to wakefulness.
“Come on, baby boy, Papa needs you to close those big big eyes for me, can you do that, baby?”
Tony pulled back, blinking big tearful eyes up at him. He was shaking just a little in Bucky’s arms. “Nota, nota baby , Papa.”
Bucky slowed to a stop, before nodding, “Okay, sweetheart, Papa knows that. I didn’t realize you didn’t like being called that, Papa’s sorry.”
Hey, wait. Tony looked up at him with a frown as Bucky started heading towards the kitchen to make Tony a bottle. “Um… I…”
Bucky looked down at the little with a frown as he opened a bottle one handed and stuck it in the fridge opening to fill it with cold water. Tony was a baby of habit, and he knew fully well, that he’d reject anything but water if it was the first thing he was drinking that day. He pulled back out and started closing the bottle one handed. “Is there something you wanted to add to that, sweetheart?”
Tony pulled his fingers away, from where he had the tip of his left index finger in his mouth. That’s stupid, only babies suck their thumbs. Tony wasn’t a baby, and he only sucked his if he was alone… or sleeping. But he wasn’t a stupid baby who needed to suck his thumb.
“I just…”
Bucky maneuvered them both into a rocking armchair they had in one of the corners of the living room. He gently situated Tony into his lap for better bottle drinking placement. Tony looked at the bottle with wide eyes, but begrudgingly accepted it out of being thirsty. “Hmm… were you, by any chance, trying to say, that you want to be called ‘baby boy’ still?”
Tony didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes flickered away was telling. Bucky frowned, leaning in to press a kiss to Tony’s forehead. “Oh, baby boy, sweetheart. It doesn’t make you any more of a baby to be called that.”
Tony looked back at him with wide eyes, and Bucky gave a gentle smile. “You know, baby boy, Daddy and Papa wouldn’t mind in the least if our little boy wanted to be a baby. Of course, you don’t have to, but we wouldn’t mind even slightly.”
Tony’s brows furrowed, but he nestled into Bucky’s arms anyways, thinking that over until his big eyes closed for the last time, back to sleep again.
***
When Steve got back from his mission finally, he’d had a few messages on his phone. Apparently, a few days before, Tony had been sick, but he’s all better now, which is good. Steve used to hate being sick, he can only imagine what it must be like, being sick and little. Must suck.
When he opened up the door to their rooms in the tower, he raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face at the happy laughter in the living room.
He took a moment to just enjoy it. He’d missed these two so much. He came up, dropping his stuff at the door to be dealt with later, and came further into the room. “Is that my little boy I hear giggling?”
There was a second of quiet from the living room, before he heard another exclamation of excitement. “Dada!”
Well, that’s a new one, but Steve would take it. He felt a small bundle collide with his chest, reaching down to pull his baby into his arms. “Hi, little boy, how’s Dada’s favorite boy? I hear you had an ick the other day.”
Tony pouted, his legs firmly around Steve’s hips. “Hadda buggy in me, Dada. Papa made me feel all better though. We played, and played, and played, and Clint came over when I was better, and we watched cartoons, and Uncle Phil helped us make cookies, and Bruce gave me a lollipop for being a good boy when he was examining me! You missed lots.”
Steve felt his heart clench a little at that last sentence. Apparently, he had missed lots. He looked over at Bucky, who had a mischievous look about him, and gave him a firm look, telling him that he would be telling him how he’d gotten their baby so little while Daddy was away, but right now he settled for pulling the baby in for a cuddle. “It sounds like you and Papa had a really fun time, though.”
Tony nodded, solemnly, “We did, but Dada wasn’t there. Missed Dada.”
Yeah, he’d missed these two, too.