Chapter Text
Steve knew what people thought. That he didn’t have a family because it wasn’t the traditional type of one. Two parents, siblings by his side, maybe a dog, even a cat.
He’d had something close to the traditional family unit once. He remembered his ma dancing around the kitchen, listening to old jazz and swing music as he clung to one of her legs, being lifted up and down as she tapped out a tune to one of her favourite songs.
While he knew his pa had never left them, but instead, died when he was three months old in an accident at work, he found he could never really include his father in the picture when he remembered his old family. He only knew the man’s face from a photo. He couldn’t remember being taken out camping or swung about in the air like a father was meant to do with his son. Still though, he held on to the old photograph Ma had gifted to him of his pa on the night her cancer had won out.
It was the one and only battle Ma had lost, no matter how many times Steve had prayed as a little twelve-year-old boy for her to be the victor.
He’d never found a home with the traditional ones that the orphanage tried to place him in. Some of the women meant to be his new ma screamed too much while the men meant to his new father hit hard, fast and often. And when he was placed back in the orphanage, the place never represented a home for him.
There were faces there though. Faces that made him laugh the way he had with his ma, made him feel safe enough to cry in front of them, made him want to give his love again after letting it go dormant after Ma left.
Faces by the names of Clint, Natasha and Thor.
See, he couldn’t place these people in the categories he was told he needed for the traditional family unit. According to these categories, these faces weren’t his family.
But the more times Clint would crawl into bed with him because the brown-haired boy remembered his old pa far too well or every time Natasha shyly held his hand because she wanted to be reminded how touch could be used for love, not pain, or the numerous occasions Thor would jump into a fight when he was hopelessly outnumbered, the more times Steve became convinced that these people were his family. No matter what the stupid people in administration said.
Once, he’d said so his old case worker, Mrs. Carver, saying, ‘Just make Clint, Natasha and Thor my new family.’
Mrs. Carver smiled sadly at him, but with that hint of patronisation Steve saw most adults used on the kids here, like they were too simple to understand what they wanted and the adults had to explain things to them exceptionally slow. It always made Steve bristle when he was on the receiving end of that look.
‘We can’t do that, Steven,’ she said in a calming tone that just aggravated Steve all the more. ‘As much as we want to, we can’t always pick the family we want.’
After Natasha went away to a home for a month, the longest any of them had been away from each other after meeting in the orphanage, and came home with bruises on her arms from the mother, who had grown impatient when Natasha couldn’t understand some of the English words the woman had been using, Steve had enough.
While the orphanage couldn’t make them a family under the country’s laws, he could and he would. He could pick his family if he wanted to and this was the one he was choosing.
They ran that very night. Through the streets of New York, hardly one stranger sparing them a glance as they raced through the darkness, trying their hardest to get as far away from the dreaded orphanage and adults in it before dawn came.
To say it was easy would have been a lie. Sometimes Steve hadn’t been able to sleep at all in the night because of the cold. They had all collapsed four or five times from exhaustion or hunger. Thor had even been taken by the police once when caught stealing a loaf of bread, but they managed to spring him from the car before it pulled into the station.
However, one night, after they were on the run for a full year, Steve had been tucking Clint into a bed.
They had taken up residence in an old apartment building, where most of the ancient ten-storey place had been abandoned because of the desperate need of repair that the owner, an old man, was too stingy to pay for. The owner himself had taken up residence on the bottom floor, refusing to leave despite the numerous holes in the floors, walls and roofs. Not to mention amount of rats. Still though, the beauty of this was the group still had running water on the top floor where they lived, their presence unbeknownst to the old man that was fast approaching eighty.
Clint had just turned twelve and Steve managed to buy a cake for him. The younger boy was thrilled beyond belief, throwing his arms around Steve in a boa constrictor-like hug.
As Steve made sure the blankets covered him, with half-lidded eyes, Clint had murmured, ‘Love you, Steve.’
At that moment, Steve knew he made the best decision ever. At just fourteen-years-old, he knew he had his new family.
For years, he thought it had been complete. The four of them fell into a rhythm. Clint and Natasha were eerily good at pick-pocketing, Clint had taught Steve how to hustle at pool and Thor had such a damn honest look about him that shop keepers didn’t notice how he walked out of a market with half a dozen wares he hadn’t paid for.
For four years they did this. Until, one day, in the alley they jumped into after climbing down the fire escape from their little make-shift home, Steve came across two tiny little boys.
One was so small he fit on the other one’s back, while the bigger of the two was actually crawling along the glass-littered ground, heading to God knows where.
He had suddenly looked to Steve and the then-sixteen-year-old was captured in the intense gaze of chestnut brown eyes.
The child simply mouthed one word … ‘Please,’ … before he collapsed, the other child already unconscious on his back.
Whether he had been asking for help or simply mercy to not be hurt, Steve didn’t know. All he did know was that suddenly, both children were in his arms and he was somehow climbing up the fire escape to stand in the main living area. He had felt scared for the tiny lives in his hands, but strong as well, feeling strength pumping through him at the instinct to protect them.
They had both been filthy and beyond skinny. After cleaning them up, Steve saw bruises on the bigger of the two’s torso, but none on visible areas of skin, which made Steve sickened to the stomach.
The smaller of the two was a different case all together. His skin told a story of horror, so many old marks that would never fade.
Steve cried. It had been a long time since he had, but he did then.
Natasha, Clint and Thor came home then. No one questioned a thing. Clint and Natasha finished tending to the children while Thor got him settled.
Up until then, Steve never knew his family was incomplete. The day Tony and Bruce made their faces known to him told him otherwise. They were his family as well and no one would ever be able to tell him any differently.
Tony’s story came out fairly quickly. After his parents had died in a car crash and he was taken into custody by an Obadiah Stane, rather than the old butler he loved more than anyone in the world, Tony soon ran at just six, unable to take one more day of Obadiah’s mostly mental and rare physical abuse that never went too far to rise suspicion amongst the public. While the whole world went into an uproar over the missing Stark heir, the group managed to keep him hidden because he never, ever wanted to go back to Obadiah. And, if he was found, that was where he would be shipped back to.
Bruce’s story was one that came out in painful fragments, mostly from what the little three-year-old screamed out in his sleep, asking for Dad to stop hitting Mama then most of the time, begging Mama to wake up again.
Tony had come across the toddler in the front yard of Bruce’s Aunty’s place after Bruce’s father was jailed, as Steve assumed. Here, according to Tony, Bruce had been sobbing because of Aunty yelling at him again. While there hadn’t appeared to be any physical abuse, Tony was more than aware how bad mental abuse could be.
For most people, they wouldn’t have been able to fathom Tony’s next move. Steve probably would have been confused too if he hadn’t experienced what he did with the other three that made up his family. On top of that, spending five minutes with the two children and seeing how much they loved each other let Steve know why Tony did what he did.
The older child simply took Bruce with him. The six-year-old and three-year-old actually survived a full month by themselves. Their bond was unbreakable and from the sounds of it, instant.
When the two finally woke that first day, screaming and crying for hours in fear, Steve had known what a job it would be if they stayed. They weren’t just little kids, but damaged ones as well.
That was all right by Steve though. They were all broken. Together though, they were able to mend the gaping cracks. They were all like shattered pieces of a mirror that, when pieced together again, fit perfectly, slowly gluing together the breaks.
With the final two pieces in place, the mirror was finally complete and Steve loved looking at the family it reflected on its worn surface.
***
Steve felt the presence before he even opened his eyes. His senses hadn’t always been so acute, but after five years without his ma, he had hardened up in first the homes then the streets.
The footsteps he picked immediately. For the longest time, he only used to hear Natasha’s lithe step but only when she decided to be heard, Clint’s confident stride, but again, only when he decided to give Steve that much warning and Thor’s heavy, strong walk. Four years exactly when they had all decided to leave the home together, sick of the abuse, verbal and physical.
Just one year ago though, there had been two additions, which was the new footsteps now.
Steve could hear the quick intake and outtake of breath, which only cemented who he thought it was. He had always really known because there was only one person out of the new additions brazen enough to enter the sheets cordoning off his personal area in level they took up of the abandoned building.
He couldn’t help himself. He smiled, despite meant to be pretending he was still asleep.
That was all it took.
‘Steve! You’re awake! We can go now!’
‘Morning to you too, kiddo,’ the blonde teenager chuckled, still keeping his eyes closed.
However, soon, small fingers pried one eyelid open and he was greeted with a blindingly excited smile. Chestnut brown eyes twinkled down at him, now visible underneath the previously shaggy, dark brown hair that had went through a haircut just last week. The high cheekbones helped illuminate the smile while dimples curved deep within the skin.
‘Up!’ Tony declared, bouncing on his knees and he even shook Steve’s shoulder, an action that would have been unthinkable to the seven-year-old one year ago, even six months. ‘Up, up, up, we can go now!’
Despite being woken at some ungodly hour of the morning, Steve’s smile was genuine while his chest warmed at the little figure by his side.
Lazily stretching his long arms above his head, he brought his right arm around Tony’s waist as he sat up slightly, pulling the young boy to his side, wasting no time in placing a kiss in the silky hair.
‘No hug for me?’ Steve teased, playfully jostling the new adopted family member.
Of course he was joking. Tony generally pulled away from hugs and kisses, face screwing up in revolt. He was a teenager before his time.
Predictably, Tony immediately began to squirm, pulling at the oldest teenager’s forearm. ‘No!’ He protested, legs kicking but unable to escape. ‘No, Steve, no! We’ve got to go, no time for mush.’
Rolling his eyes at the child’s turn of phrase (Tony had left them all speechless many times with some of the things he could come out with), Steve gave the boy a noisy kiss on the cheek, eliciting an indignant squawk, before relinquishing his hold.
Immediately, Tony scrubbed at his cheek, leaving a black mark there, glaring up at the grinning teen.
‘I said don’t do that!’ Tony scowled and Steve could tell by how the chestnut brown eyes had saddened a bit that the child truly had enough of the teasing.
‘All right, all right, I’m sorry.’ Steve held out his hands in an apologetic gesture, though the fond smile couldn’t be dimmed on his face.
Tony glared, obviously not believing in the sincerity, but he pushed himself to his feet anyway. Even standing, Tony barely stood just above Steve’s head when sitting on the floor. For seven, he was small and Steve tended to not think about why that was.
Trying to get a cheery response, Steve started in an enthusiastic voice, ‘So, after you’re both ready, we’ll go to the water park opening, huh?’
Despite the usual low temperatures in New York, a small kid’s water park in Central Park was opening that day, which mostly consisted of small fountains and squirting flowers for kids to run under over rubber pavement. Truthfully, Steve thought they were being pretty generous calling it that.
However, as soon as Tony saw the announcement on the front of an old newspaper Steve had taken from the trash, it had been all the seven-year-old had talked about until the four olders really had no choice but to plan an excursion.
Tony lit up, which for Steve, was just the most beautiful sight. ‘Yeah!’ He exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his bare feet. ‘Let’s go!’
Steve chuckled at the enthusiasm as he pushed himself to his knees. ‘Easy, kiddo, we’ve all got to get ready first.’ With a glance outside, it looked like it would be lucky to be six o’clock.
Tony grinned up at Steve. ‘Bruce already is.’
Steve paused at that. ‘You … got Bruce ready?’ He asked cautiously.
The young boy nodded proudly. ‘Yep,’ he proclaimed. ‘Even got him breakfast and everything.’
It was only this past year experience that Steve had the strength not to cringe.
‘Yeah?’ He asked instead, trying to sound curious, but he swore his voice shook.
Tony didn’t appear to notice though as he enthusiastically tugged on Steve’s hand. ‘C’mon, I’ll show you!’
Unable to not smile at the bright life force beside him, Steve allowed himself to be led out past the sheets that were drawn across to give him his privacy. There were four other areas cordoned off for the three older kids and the bathroom area in the huge room in the old building.
The area in the middle had been turned into a little nest, a cot placed there with numerous blankets and pillows piled up around the edges to try to keep the occupants in until one of the four deemed ‘adults’ of the group were up. However, on first glance, Steve could see it very much was empty.
Holding back a sigh, he asked, ‘Tony, where have you put Bruce?’
‘I told you!’ Tony said impatiently, still tugging on his hand, leading the blonde teenager down the corridor that led to the other area of the building they had deemed their lounge room and kitchen. ‘I gave him breakfast.’
The child sounded so damn proud of himself that Steve knew no matter what he found, he would find himself praising the boy by his side.
Soon, Tony pulled him past the curtain leading into their ‘kitchen’, which was just a table that held the food they stole or bought using money they swindled high enough away from the rats, a cabinet with several chipped items of crockery and utensils as well as a sink that still had water running to it.
There, sitting in the middle of it all, was Bruce, packet of cereal clutched in his stumpy fingers. On second glance, Steve saw the actual plastic packet had been filled with milk, which was spilled all across the floor, along with the cornflakes. They mostly decorated the tiny four-year-old though, spilling across the food-stained pants and over-sized jumper. The clothing had previously been in the piling set to be washed, but Tony had obviously retrieved them, thinking they were good enough for his declared little brother. The jumper was also on backwards.
And … yep, all the food and milk were through the dark brown, nearly black, curls as well, though Steve couldn’t fathom how that had happened. The pudgy mouth was covered in crumbs and milk while Bruce held a handful of cornflakes in his hand, halfway to his mouth. The right sleeve was absolutely soaked in milk.
He froze in his meal, honeyed brown eyes huge as he looked up as Tony and Steve entered the room. The poor little thing had been the picture of absolute contentment, but he immediately went shy as he saw the gazes on him, clutching the cereal packet to his chest, peeking up at Steve in particular, waiting for a scolding.
Tony simply smiled up at Steve, little head tilted so far back to look at the teenager. ‘See? Got him dressed and everything.’
Steve’s shoulders slumped helplessly. Natasha would call him a push-over, but he was well-aware of how full of it she was, bending to the will of these two little beings just as much as the rest of them and even threatening bodily harm to those that didn’t do what the two children wanted.
And how could he not melt when these two looked at him like that? Yes, it was a huge mess and the clean-up of Bruce was going to take forever while the rest of them were now without edible cereal for the morning, but he didn’t care. They were the two most beautiful little kids in the world and nothing would ever make him think different.
Bending slightly, he lovingly laid his hand on Tony’s head. ‘Such a good job, buddy. Thank you for being such a good help to me today.’
To Steve’s utmost surprise, he actually received a quick hug of the leg from Tony. The boy smiled up at him and Steve saw the gratefulness just permeating off the child.
‘You’re taking us to the water park today.’ Tony breathed the two words like they were sacred. The silent ‘I wanted to say thank you’ was embedded in there, but Tony was still too tight-lipped to make such declarations as yet, afraid he’d be made fun of if he wore his emotions too much on his sleeve.
Steve had to stop himself from scooping up the adorable kid there and then, but instead, settled for ruffling the boy’s hair.
‘Good boy, Tony,’ he praised, kneeling down beside him, so he wasn’t towering over Bruce, who was watching the exchange silently, but the shyness was fading as he saw his hero wasn’t in trouble. Bruce tended not to care if he was in trouble or not, but if someone was upset with Tony, the toddler fell apart. It was both sweet and worrisome.
Tony glowed at the praise, but tried not to show it, snapping, clicking and clapping his fingers in a habit Steve saw the child had whenever his brain was running super fast. Both children were geniuses, Steve was sure of it.
‘We can go to the park now?’ Tony asked hopefully, bouncing a bit on his feet again.
Steve smiled at that. ‘I might just have to clean up Bruce a bit, kiddo.’ Quickly pushing on with an enthusiastic voice though so Tony wouldn’t think he had done a bad job, he said, ‘But how about you go get one of the others up so they can start getting ready?’
It was a double-edged plan. That way, one of them could help Tony get ready, but he couldn’t tell the child that. Tony was fiercely independent and refused to acknowledge he still needed help with certain things.
Tony nodded enthusiastically and Steve caught the wicked little glint in the mischievous child’s eye before he took off.
‘Not Clint!’ Steve immediately called after him. ‘Thor or Natasha, but not Clint!’
Clint and Tony were experts at teasing each other and getting each one to rise to the bait. They wouldn’t get anywhere if Clint was the one helping Tony get ready. One of them would end up storming off.
Most likely Clint.
Steve gave a sigh when he didn’t get a reply and just simply waved his hand in a dismissal of the situation. It would sort itself out.
Turning his attention to the silent toddler on the floor, his expression softened. ‘And how are you today, baby boy?’
Bruce squirmed shyly at the attention, ducking his head a little. ‘Had breakfast,’ he mumbled, his voice a distinct husky tone that was the cutest thing.
Steve chuckled fondly at that. ‘I can see that, yes.’
The toddler smiled a little before shyly holding out his hand that was still grasping the handful of mushed cornflakes. ‘Want some?’
‘Aw, baby,’ Steve absolutely melted and slowly leaned forward to ruffle the head of curls so Bruce could clearly see what he was doing.
When he had first done it, the then three-year-old had freaked, thinking Steve was going to hit him.
Steve immediately pushed off the darkness and instead concentrated on the toddler peering up at him, smile growing more, always slow to warm up in the mornings. Steve knew it was often from nightmares that often plagued the boy who should have been too young to dream what he did.
‘That’s yours, sweet boy, I’m fine, thank you,’ Steve murmured softly.
Bruce assessed Steve’s words with his head cocked to the side. ‘Do I have to get clean now?’
‘After breakfast, Steve will clean you up,’ the blonde teenager explained.
He often referred to himself in third person to Bruce and sometimes Tony. Clint was the other one that did it all the time as well. It was just something they both automatically did.
‘I bags that job!’ A voice called from behind Steve. ‘You go take care of your terror. He’s running riot, as per usual.’
He glanced over his shoulder to see the sleep-tousled Clint walking into the kitchen. By the walk, hands tucked deep down in the grey pants, Clint was ticked, obviously because he had been woken up.
Of course Tony did.
Despite it all, Steve smirked at his family member and subtly gestured to the state the toddler was in. ‘Yeah?’ He asked.
Clint peered around Steve. All leftover sleepiness and grumpiness left his face and his mouth split into a large grin.
‘What a clever idea, Bub bub,’ he laughed, easily coming around and gently lifting the toddler into his arms, packet full of cereal with the milk and all, not at all perturbed by getting the mess on himself. ‘We’ll never have to clean a bowl again in our lives.’
‘Tony thought of it,’ Bruce replied dutifully, forever the one to give his hero the credit, no matter how much he helped. Tony was exactly the same when it came to Bruce. ‘He gave me breakfast.’ He squirmed a little in the hold, but was warming up quickly this morning. He even gave Clint a smile rather than just burying his head so he couldn’t see them looking at him, forever shy of their fond gazes.
Clint laughed, giving the toddler’s backside a gentle pat. ‘Aren’t you a lucky boy then, huh?’
Bruce nodded, some of his shyness coming back as he offered Clint the handful of food, just like he had Steve. ‘Hungwy?’
The toddler often slipped in his speech and even sometimes accidentally lisped, which always made the rest of them melt. Tony’s speech was immaculate, often unwittingly showing how much his previous life had been drummed into him of proper articulateness. The manners he had been taught rarely raised their head however. Fancy that.
Clint peered down at the food with interest before giving a shrug and taking a bite of cereal that couldn’t be identified as cornflakes anymore, playfully blowing on Bruce’s little palm.
Steve gave a laugh that was half a groan at the resident slob of their residence.
Bruce squealed at the sensation on his palm, immediately tucking his hand to his chest. His mouth was half open, about to smile, but he paused, obviously worried he read the situation wrong and Clint actually wasn’t playing.
The brown haired fifteen-year-old saw it and nuzzled his nose playfully into the hand Bruce had been trying to hide, chuckling as he did so, showing it was all fun and games.
Clint was impressively good with the kids and Steve wondered if it was from the past days in the circus where Clint had once implied he would take care of the really little kids when the parents were performing, whether acrobatics or archery.
‘I was better than a lot of ‘em in both, yet I was stuck with babysitting,’ he grumbled once.
By how Clint was with Bruce and Tony when the two weren’t arguing, Steve knew Clint hadn’t hated it near as much as he pretended.
Bruce was giggling now, smile fully planted on his face, even able to be seen from where he tucked himself into the crook of Clint’s neck.
Seeing Steve still watching them, Clint waved him off easily. ‘I’ve got this. Go take care of your terror.’
Rolling his eyes at the nickname for the second youngest member of their make-shift family, Steve replied, ‘He’s a darlin’,’ before walking to the corridor.
He just managed to hear, ‘Not at six in the morning, he’s not,’ mumbled under Clint’s breath.
Smirking at the other boy, he walked back into the ‘bedrooms’ to find Clint had (once again) over-exaggerated a situation. Or maybe he hadn’t and Natasha had just taken control like the natural leader she was.
Thor was sitting on the cot in the middle, one shoe on while the other foot was bare. His blonde hair, which had streaks of brown through it, sat around his shoulders and was knotted from his sleep. Blinking, still half-asleep, he gave Steve a lazy wave before turning his attention back to getting his sleep-addled body to get his other shoe on.
Smiling back, Steve glanced around to finally spot the other area that was their bathroom, with a broken shower cubicle, toilet and rather large sink, which was big enough to sometimes give Bruce or Tony baths in when there was enough hot water, had its sheet pulled back.
Natasha stood there with Tony on her left hip. The seven-year-old was now dressed in a clean t-shirt and the special board shorts the rest had worked on saving up for to buy a pair each for the two kids. Both children had loved it, actually being able to choose what they wanted to wear, rather than whatever they managed to snag out of the trash or able to stuff under their shirts then easing out of a store like nothing had taken place.
Tony’s was a bright red with a lightning bolt, which was just so Tony, all life and colour. Bruce’s was a subtle grey with dashes of silver, which made Steve a little sorry, because it was like the toddler had been too scared or somehow thought it was wrong to actually pick something a bit nicer. Natasha had tried to explain it to him, but Bruce just simply shyly pointed to the same pair of shorts while clutching to the leg material of Natasha’s jeans.
‘Done?’
Tony’s impatient prompt brought Steve back to the present.
Steve blinked and watched with raised eyebrows as he realised Natasha was cleaning Tony’s face with a damp washcloth and Tony wasn’t spending every second trying to make his escape. While he looked none too happy about it, he stayed in Natasha’s arms and didn’t attempt to push away the cloth, though he did turn his face this way and that crankily.
Natasha smirked back, but Steve could see the love she had there for little Tony. ‘Such a good boy today, bratishka,’ she said teasingly, ‘no fighting or anything.’
Her Russian accent had faded over the years. It had been so strong when she came into the orphanage at ten, one of many young girls rescued from a corrupt boarding school for Russian children that was mean to ‘teach’ the best and brightest of the next generation how to be part of new elite fighting units.
Steve still didn’t know all of the things Natasha had seen in her young life. Thor had been abandoned by his parents at a very young age and been through many homes. While he never talked too much about his parents, he would sometimes share stories about a child, Loki, who he used to live next door too, who had been like his little brother.
Clint’s father had been abusive whenever he drank, a worker in a circus that moved around the country. Clint had an older brother, Barney, who left Clint with his father, and just never came back. No one knew whether he was dead or alive, but Steve knew Clint had his thoughts on this.
Truthfully, Steve knew they all hated talking about their pasts. While most would think the present was pretty dismal, Steve thought it was pretty wonderful, especially when he watched Tony sulkily cross his arms and give an adorable pout.
‘I just want to get this show on the road,’ he grumbled.
That elicited a laugh out of all three of them, which made the little boy even crankier. Tony was a little ripper, no doubt about it. His personality was award-winning as far as Steve was concerned. Clint would contest that with him, but only because he was sulky for being waken up so early.
‘Down!’ Tony demanded, already wriggling to free himself from Natasha’s hold.
‘One more spot, bratishka,’ Natasha said calmly, but gently, recognising the signs when Tony was truly having enough as the child began to whine in the back of his throat.
She rubbed another dirty spot on his cheek, which finally made one of Tony’s whines turn into a definite cry, eyes becoming a little shiny.
‘Okay, done,’ Natasha soothed, stealing a quick kiss, before setting Tony on the ground.
‘No kiss,’ Tony cried softly, scrubbing one hand along his cheek where the kiss had been planted, sniffling as he rubbed his left eye with a fist. It reminded Steve that he would most definitely be going down for a nap sometime this afternoon. The little boy didn’t like early mornings and while he was having naps less and less, this day was sure to be a bit too full-on to complete with a sleep. An over-tired Tony was not one easy to handle.
‘It’s not that bad, nakhal'nyy mal'chik,’ Natasha said easily, giving the silky hair a stroke before disappearing into her section.
Still sniffling, Tony whined softly to himself, stumbling away from Natasha, murmuring, ‘Is too.’
His gaze brightened as he spied Steve watching him with a sympathetic smile. Steve saw the moment when both of his arms nearly went up for the sign to be picked up, but Tony immediately tucked his elbows back to his sides, expression turning a bit horrified at what he’d nearly done. At the realisation though that he thought he wasn’t going to receive some comfort, his gaze became absolutely miserable and his whine turned into a cry again.
It broke Steve a bit. Tony would never ask for affection from any of them when distraught. Sometimes, when he was tired, he would allow himself to be coddled, but he would never seek it out.
Bruce had started to, shyly asking for cuddles and kisses, in a way that his mum must have initially taught him that the toddler could still remember. It was the most adorable thing and they all happily did it.
Tony, on the other hand, pretended he hated the affection, but Steve could see how much he craved it. He wouldn’t allow himself to though, and Steve couldn’t quite figure out why as yet. He certainly didn’t appear afraid of them any more, and often argued with them quite easily. He was also endlessly affectionate with Bruce and basically only ever referred to him as Bubba, baby or baby brother.
It didn’t matter though. Steve would forever give it to him, whether he asked for it or not. It was something he knew the whole group did, just casually being affectionate to the seven-year-old to show him it was all right and they did love him. And especially when he was upset.
Steve smiled at Tony and clicked his tongue sympathetically. ‘Not your favourite past time, is it, baby?’
He leaned down and hooked his hands under Tony’s armpits. Before Tony could protest, Steve scooped Tony into his arms, cuddling the boy to his chest.
Tony squirmed, legs giving a half-hearted kick. ‘I’m not a baby. Bruce is the baby.’
‘Very silly of me, buddy, I’m sorry,’ Steve was quick to agree, rubbing comforting circles on the boy’s back with his left hand, easily holding the child with just his right arm. He hoped the reassurance would be enough for Tony to just stay for a bit and enjoy a bit of comfort.
Tony made an offended, little, ‘Uh,’ sound, and to Steve’s absolute delight, actually rested his head on Steve’s shoulder.
Thor gave two thumbs up at that while Steve smiled widely back, delighted that Tony wasn’t immediately pushing him away.
Steve contented himself with stroking the precious boy’s back, swaying from side to side. It was hard not to press a kiss to Tony’s temple, but the blonde teen knew better than to push his luck.
Tony stayed still for several minutes, just sniffling now and then, until, in a tiny voice, so unlike the enthusiasm he usually attacked everything with, asked, softly, unsurely. ‘Are we still going to the water park?’
Both Thor and Steve frowned at each other at those words. Was Tony … thinking he was going to be punished for getting upset like all little kids did at times?
‘Of course we are, buddy!’ Steve exclaimed, giving him a little bounce. He was tempted to ask why Tony thought otherwise, but he really didn’t want to upset the boy anymore today. It should be a treat for him and Steve was a little desperate to make it one of the best days for both of the children.
‘Steven’s been looking forward to it all week,’ Thor said, voice deeper than the average sixteen-year-old, just as he was taller and larger than one as well. Originally from Norway, Thor still tended to sometimes speak very proper English, but knew all the pop culture references very well now.
Steve took the cue and gasped in over-exaggerated indignation. ‘Have not!’ He said, making his voice go high on purpose.
Giggling drew his attention back down and he was greeted with chestnut brown eyes devoid of all tears smiling up at him in delight and Steve thought he saw another little emotion there that Tony usually hid away pretty well.
Before he could see more though, Tony began to wriggle with a ‘Down,’ being said.
Sighing softly to himself in frustration, but knowing forcing Tony into being comforted would be a terrible idea, he reluctantly set the boy on his feet.
Tony was off, but before he could get too far, Thor’s arm had snaked out and scooped him up, giving him a brief, one-armed hug to the largest teenager’s chest.
‘Thor!’ Tony tried to pull away, dangling legs wriggling frantically. ‘No. No more trash. It’s time to go.’
‘Love, not trash,’ Thor corrected gently, but set Tony down all the same.
Tony stumbled a little, as though finding it hard to find his feet, but Steve knew it was the boy being too preoccupied in his mind, whether from the words or prospect of the park, Steve wasn’t sure.
However, Tony disappeared quickly, not even glancing back.
Thor turned a dismal gaze on to Steve, always one to get so upset when either of the little ones showed how broken they were from the short lives they had lived so far.
Steve grimaced sympathetically back, glancing at where Tony disappeared. The boy appeared so apt at hiding how deep the damage went with his quick words and thousand-watt smile.
It was more than worrying and hurt Steve more than any hit he ever copped in the system. This went so much deeper, right into his soul.
A yell from the kitchen let him know that maybe his help was needed there though.
‘I better go keep those two from killing each other,’ Steve said, not bothering to say who he was referring to.
Thor knew perfectly, calling a ‘Good luck with that,’ as he stood and stretched.
Entering back into the kitchen, he was surprised to see that Clint and Tony weren’t attempting to annoy each other to death and the shout had actually been in play.
Tony was dashing around the table as Clint playfully gave chase. The black-haired boy was laughing like crazy, calling, ‘Look, Bubba, look!’ to Bruce, who was huddled near the cabinet, clear out of the line of fire. As always with Tony, Bruce was a lot more rambunctious and caught up in his older sibling’s enthusiasm, he was cheering, though not too loudly. The packet of cereal and milk was no longer in the toddler’s grasp, but instead, in Clint’s, and from the looks of the state of his shirt, he had been helping himself to the crazy concoction.
A blonde blur to Steve’s right was the only warning the oldest teenager got that Thor was joining the fray. The huge sixteen-year-old tackled Clint, never one to miss out on some good rough-housing.
For most kids Clint’s size, a person Thor’s towering height would have winded him, but Clint slipped out of the grasp and was on Thor’s back before they had even landed, trying to get the over-sized teenager in a lock, but Thor’s strength made that hard.
Tony was jumping up and down, enthusiastically pumping his arms in the air, ‘Bricker-bracker, firecrackers, siss-boom-baa. Tho-r, Tho-r, ra-ra-ra!’
Thor stumbled in the play-fight, laughing so hard at the one-of-a-kind child.
‘You trade sides quick, you rotter!’ Clint called, but his grey eyes were shining as he used Thor as a climbing post.
‘You better believe it,’ Tony called, which finally made Clint break, chuckling in helpless amusement.
Natasha had silently joined them, leaning down to pick up Bruce. Steve just noticed that the tiny boy had huddled in on himself at the inclusion of Thor, honeyed brown eyes widening in fear and his right hand’s fingers were being sucked almost frantically in his mouth. Sometimes, Bruce found it hard to tell the difference between when they were play fighting and real fighting. He’d never seen anything other than the real deal for the first three years of his life, which had finally climaxed in the death of his mother. A thought that never failed to make Steve feel physically sick.
However, Natasha didn’t allow those thoughts to make her stumble and she smiled gently down at Bruce as she slowly began hooking her hands underneath Bruce’s arms.
‘Loud this morning, huh, malysh?’
Unlike before, when, if someone approached Bruce when he was scared, the toddler would absolutely lose it, screaming and crying, going into shock and eyes becoming absolutely haunted, Bruce reached his arms up as soon Natasha got close, little fingers immediately gripping the material of the fifteen-year-old girl’s flannel shirt. He whimpered softly, but Natasha quickly settled him against her shoulder, patting his backside.
Bruce settled, curling into her embrace, head settling on her shoulder, but didn’t stop sucking on his fingers. None of them had the heart to try to stop the habit. When feeling even slightly threatened or scared, Bruce tended to regress to more baby-ish characteristics. The worse Bruce deemed the threat, the harder he regressed, sometimes to the point where he wouldn’t talk for days, crying when he just couldn’t articulate what he wanted.
It hadn’t been that extreme for a long time, but Bruce still did it with little things like this. Truthfully, Steve didn’t see anything really wrong with it. Obviously the younger Bruce had been, the less he remembered the threats that had become far too familiar so liked to try to go into that shell when he could. Besides, the toddler was only four anyway. The reason why Steve sometimes took issue with the habit of sucking on the fingers was in their lifestyle, sometimes they weren’t in the most hygienic of states or environments. He hated for there ever a chance for Bruce to get ill from simply sucking his fingers.
Natasha saw what Bruce was doing too and placed a kiss in his curls before promptly wrinkling her nose in play. ‘Why are you all sticky, malysh?’
Bruce curled further into her, not wanting to talk for the time being.
Steve respected that, as did they all, so quickly filled Natasha in. ‘Tony gave Bruce breakfast and got … creative.’
‘Ah.’ Natasha gave a nod before jerking her head back to the corridor. ‘I’ll clean him up. Those two will be busy for a while.’
Steve glanced at the two wrestling teenagers with a chuckle, Thor attempting to get a hold of Clint, but the younger teenager was just too slippery. ‘Yeah, probably.’
As the red-head began to walk away, Tony’s gaze was drawn to her, or more accurately, his little brother. His hand shot high up in the air.
‘I want to help baby get ready too,’ he called, but it was more of a request than a demand.
Tony loved to help with anything to do with Bruce, which tended to make any process twice as long. However, Bruce absolutely came out of his shell with Tony’s coaxing and playing while the older boy lit up at making the toddler smile. When that was the outcome, Steve would take all day if it meant the two acted like that always and not just with each other.
Natasha’s smile was soft and warm as she waved Tony forward. ‘You know I always love your help, solnyshko.’
Tony grinned and forgetting about the wrestling match, raced to Natasha’s side, trotting alongside of her as she began to walk down the corridor. The girl’s hand came down to rest on top of the young boy’s wild mop of hair.
The child treated her to a glare, but didn’t pull away from the touch.
Steve’s smile was huge as he divided his attention between that departing group and the other two blissfully tearing up their pitiful kitchen.
This was the best family in the world and no damn official could ever tell him otherwise.