Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If it was anyone else, Tony would laugh at them. Probably in their faces, too, if he was being honest. Which is something that Pepper is always trying to get him to practice. The being honest part, that is, not the part where he laughs in people's faces.

But Steve is a whole other story.

Steve is the unreliable factor in the story, the wrench in the works, and whatever else you want to call Steve. 

He threw Tony for a loop, got him thinking that maybe he could be trusted to be in a relationship.

Nobody wants to call Captain America a liar. Neither do they want to disbelieve anything he says, either. Paragon of hope and virtue and everything.

But that was the problem, wasn't it?

That was Captain America, not Steve Rogers. And there was a great big difference between the two. Steve was more real, more feeling. He smiled more and was less tense. Steve Rogers allowed himself to live. Captain America lived and breathed for his work. 

Which is why when 'The Incident' - as Tony was choosing to refer to the situation from last month - occurred he found himself less surprised and more disappointed.

Not that he shouldn't have expected it, of course. 

There were too many differences between them for them to work out properly. They argued a lot, mostly over things that didn't even garner any special attention. Bystanders (and by bystanders, Tony mostly thought of whichever unfortunate team member managed to walk into any given room in the tower at the wrong time) would point out that their relationship could hardly be called that.

Nobody in a relationship should argue as much as they did.

But as it was, none of the bystanders (and here the term is being used correctly because now it can be referred to the ordinary people outside as well who have been witnesses to him and Steve arguing) ever thought to point it out, and neither did the team. Instead, they simply rolled their eyes and sighed. Natasha just muttered curses at them in Russian before stalking away whenever she caught them arguing.

They argued more often than not, and the days where there was a lull in heated conversations and flying accusations, they were simply too exhausted to do anything to mend the destruction of their last ferocious encounter.

But that wasn't to say that they despised each other, or that their relationship was comprised of only arguments and hot-headed statements; no, there were the good days, too.

They had meaningful conversations (ones that Sam would be proud of - there were feelings involved, ugh) and they laid around in bed together. Sometimes Steve would forgo taking his morning run and would stay instead to keep Tony company in bed. Which, in Tony's mind, was the best idea ever. They went out on dates and held hands. They had make-out sessions that resulted in bruises on Steve's pale skin (if Tony was lucky they'd last for half an hour and then start to fade due to the serum) and they had great sex. God, the sex was awesome.

Not that Tony only liked Steve for the sex, though. He liked every bit of Steve.

And maybe, if Tony had been attending his therapy sessions regularly, he'd realize that really, using the word 'like' was probably part of the problem when it came to him and Steve and 'The Incident'. 

But as it was, Tony hadn't been going regularly, and he never used any other word but 'like' when referring to Steve, which is what set the events into motion.

Anyway, going back to the bit about what else Tony liked about Steve: Steve was amazing. He was kind, he was loyal, he was honest. He was so giving, and so goddamned earnest, too, that Tony often had a hard time believing in anything else but what Steve had to say.

Steve had a great body, and despite his size, he was the gentlest person that Tony had ever met. Even his voice was gentle, all soft and kind (when he wasn't yelling orders into the comms).

But Steve had his faults, too. He was stubborn, and sometimes he forgot to put himself first, which often resulted in him getting hurt (either emotionally when they fought, or physically when they were on missions and he refused to go to medical until everyone else had been seen to first). His way of always wearing his heart on his sleeve, his giving nature, and earnestness was sometimes too much.

And it was that same earnestness that made Tony forget.

Tony thought that they were going to be okay, but in reality they had been setting themselves up to fail, and honestly, he's surprised that the rest of the team hadn't tried to tell them that before they decided to venture into a relationship.

So when Steve told him, after their millionth argument, that they'd be okay and that they'll keep on coming back to each other because it's what they do and they'll always just keep on gravitating towards each other (it probably wasn't even those exact words but he can't remember anymore) he believed Steve and gave in with an exhausted sigh, choosing to ignore the entire afternoon in which they'd spent arguing and focus on the good: the calming effect that Steve's heartbeat had on him and that Steve still loved him enough to hold him and hadn't yet tired of him.

Two weeks later, they're lying in bed after sleeping together; sweaty and still trying to catch their breath. He's ready to drop into the type of sleep that is so deep that absolutely no sounds can filter through his consciousness, and Steve is probably pretty wrung out, too, judging from his silence and the way he's tracing a light finger across his bicep, creating patterns that couldn't be deciphered. 

It's that particular moment that he realizes that maybe, just maybe they're better off apart.

And the thought alone was alarming; why now? Couldn't it be done later? They had just had a really good time together and maybe he was overthinking things, but the fact that his brain seemed to be wholly in favor of it, and his heart wasn't screaming at him not to let something as great as Steve go (part of his heart was begging him not to do it, but it was the part that was faulty, the part that wished for things that were impossible) that he decided to just end things between them.

Apparently, Steve must've been sitting on the same thought for a while because when he turned to face Steve, the blond was already turned to face him with a sad smile on his face. It was almost as if they knew that they were saying goodbye, then, but neither of them knew how to say it and decided to say it physically. (This resulted in them having sex, and really, whoever disagreed with their ways of ending a relationship could shove it. Maybe it wasn't ideal, but they had both consented and had a great time, and in the end, it was a good way to end things between them).

When the words finally came out, they were choked and hoarse, but steady and clear. 

"Steve, I'm really sorry -"

"Tony, it's okay, I think it's for the best."

Their words tumbled over one another, but the intentions were clear as day. 

Their relationship was over.

Steve's eyes were bright and shiny and he was loathe to admit that he had a hard time keeping his own emotions from spilling over as well, trying to blink his own sadness away.

He was overly aware of the sheets pooled around their waists and the stickiness that covered them. He was quick to get out of bed and head to the en suite and grab them both a wet towel to clean themselves up.

And if he refused to let Steve clean himself, wanting to clean Steve himself - he noticed the wince Steve had on his face and couldn't stop the surge of guilt that flowed through him with the thought that he'd been too rough, but then he realized that Steve was probably just sensitive - he told himself that he was simply just fulfilling his duties when it came to basic aftercare.

And although they were ending their relationship, he wasn't going to forgo his duties. He wasn't bitter towards Steve, rather the blond still had a fond place in his heart.

In a way, it was one last act of kindness.

In the end, after Steve had gotten dressed back into his jeans and slipped into his sweater, Tony had walked him to the door, hand hovering as if on its own accord; usually he always rested his hand on Steve's lower back, loving the message it painted to anyone watching them.

Now, he's not so sure that his touch would be welcome.

His internal struggles are for naught, however, when Steve turns around at the door and gives him a kiss on the cheek, eyes gazing intently into his own.

Steve still looks sad, but never let it be said that Steve Rogers is nothing but brave and determined.

Steve gives him one last goodbye kiss and a smile.

He finds it in himself to reciprocate the kiss and give Steve a quick hug.

"We'll be okay, right? We can still be - we can be friends? Still, I mean. This doesn't have to… affect our friendship, right?" he asks.

Steve gives him an amused smile and shakes his head, a tiny laugh bubbling out.

"No, Tony. It won't - We can still be friends. I'd like that." 

Tony doesn't point out that Steve never answered his question on whether they'll be okay or not, but by then his brain has caught on to the fact that Steve said that they can still be friends and he's already forgotten about it.

See, the thing about Steve is that he's so earnest that you have no choice but to believe in him and anything that he says.

So yes, if it was anyone else and they'd told him that they could make things work in a relationship, he'd definitely laugh in their face.

But he didn't because it was Steve. Instead, he allowed himself to hope, and that was much, much worse.

In the end, after having and living your own fears,  you forget that Steve's also insecure, and that more often than not he's also got his own fears and doubts. One's that he keeps close to his chest and won't show because he thinks it will push others away. That it would make others disappointed in him and think less of him.

But by then, Tony's so relieved and disappointed and so surprised at his own lack of surprise at the end of their relationship that he's too exhausted to even question Steve's lack of argument at them ending their relationship that he doesn't think about it.

After all, he and Steve are still friends and they'll still get to talk and hang out, just not do any of the stuff they did while dating, such as holding hands and necking like a bunch of horny teenagers.

He's happy with the outcome, and his brain has quieted all of its thoughts.

His therapist, if he bothered to go, probably wouldn't be, but what's in the past is in the past and can't be changed.

The elevator slides shut and for a moment he's faced with a terrible sense of wrongness and sadness, but it dissipates when Steve looks him in the eye and smiles.

Granted, it's not the sunshine smile that he's come to associate with Steve and happiness, but it's a smile nonetheless.

He takes it for what it is: goodbye.

After all, what could make Steve ever regret breaking up with him?

He wasn't exactly the easiest person. He has no doubts that being in a relationship with him would be both frustrating and exhausting.

This was better for both of them.

He was sure of it.

Absolutely, one hundred percent sure.

So why was he suddenly regretting ending things with Steve?

Chapter Text

It’s the third mission with the rest of the team in the last couple of months. If he’s counting - which he is; he hasn’t had much to keep his mind from roaming to more traitorous thoughts and at the moment he’ll take anything to keep his thoughts from wandering - then this is his fifth mission ever since he and Tony broke up. 

He’s happy when he’s got something to do, and this mission is a blessing in disguise, really. He didn’t even think twice before accepting the mission briefing from Tony. 

It wasn't even all that difficult to look Tony in the eye and grab the dossier from him. So long as he's got something to keep him busy then he's happy.

That didn't mean, however, that he didn't see the look that Tony gave him when he thought he couldn't see.

And although he can understand Tony's confusion at his eagerness to accept the mission, it's completely misplaced. He's not eager to go on the mission, not really. 

He's eager to get out of the tower.

And while he can understand why Sam and Bucky and the rest of the team get so concerned whenever he leaves for a mission - they think that he's going to burn himself out and overdo it - he's not. He just needs some space.

He's sure that if he had to spend time in the tower doing absolutely nothing while he waited for the next self-made villain until they decided that they wanted to attack the city, then he'll go completely crazy. 

He already feels antsy whenever he's in the tower, almost as if walking around the various halls and floors would suddenly make Tony appear in front of him. It's an invalid fear, of course, ever since he and Tony broke up it was like whatever agreed-upon idea made to remain friends was put on the back-burner while they sorted through whatever they needed to go through. 

He hated that this is what they've become; Tony hiding in his workshop and flying halfway around the world to be at meetings in countries that didn't even allow him to adjust to the different time zones before he had to leave for the next country, while he tired himself out going on missions that lasted three days minimum.

Nevertheless, he stays silent and doesn't bother answering Tony's look of confusion, taking the mission brief from his hands instead.

Sam and Natasha share a look that he won't try to decipher; if it's anything like the conversations they tried to bring up on several different occasions, then he doesn't want to know. He already knows what they're going to say, and he doesn't want to hear it.

"Thanks, Cap. I won't be able to help much since I'll be at SI when you guys are on the mission, but FRIDAY will be able to should you need it. Just ask her for anything. I'll be back in time for a debriefing," Tony says. 

He places a hand on Natasha's shoulder and gives Steve a brief smile.

He's surprised to note that it was one of the few times that Tony had looked at him, properly looked at him since they broke up.

Natasha scowls and shrugs his hand off.

"We're more than capable of stealing a couple of weapons, Tony. We've done harder things than that. If you were so worried about us not being able to go on the mission then why don't you send Barnes?" she asks.

Tony rolls his eyes and takes a step back.

He's getting ready to leave and although Steve tells himself that he shouldn't focus so much on Tony, that he shouldn't be disappointed that Tony's leaving to go back to his workshop, he is.

He bites his lip and pointedly looks at the table in front of him. This way he won't be so distracted by Tony that he forgets his own mission: to get over Tony.

He's more than halfway there. Something that he's happy about. Now, whenever he looks at Tony it doesn't hurt as much and he's not fighting back what feels like a permanent lump in his throat. Instead, it's a dull ache that forms in his chest. 

Some days he's overcome with a bone-deep tiredness that he knows is from his own sadness and he allows himself to feel it, because he knows that it will disappear eventually. As suddenly as it had crept up on him it's quick to go away and he's able to go on with his day once more.

Other days he's sitting alone, drawing or reading and he'll suddenly be hit with the fact that he and Tony aren't together and he can't do anything but let the memories wash over his mind once more like a heavy blanket. Those days are far and few between, but when he does have them it's like there's a dark cloud above his head and nothing that usually makes him happy can help him shake the loneliness and sadness that he feels. 

It's because he's looking at the table while deep in thought that he doesn't hear the rest of the conversation and when he finally realizes that the briefing is over, both Sam and Natasha are having their own conversation, talking about the cookies that Sam's mom had baked so that he'd have something to contribute to the team dinner they had the other night.

By then he's noticed that Tony is long gone and they're the only ones in the boardroom. 

It's not that difficult to join the conversation and soon he finds himself laughing both at Sam's dry humor and Natasha's quick wit. He notices that they're purposefully poking fun at one another in an attempt to make him laugh and speak more, which he does, and chooses not to say anything at their lack of subtlety.

He appreciates it, really.

And when he goes quiet at a lull in conversation, they're quick to say something that grabs his attention.

All too soon, Sam stands with a look of regret on his face and gives them a smile that could easily pass as a grimace.

At the questioning looks, he explains.

"My sister is in town for the week and we're having dinner together with her family. As much as I love spending time at the tower, it's my sister. She's already messaged me ten times. I'll be back later tonight, probably crash in one of the guest rooms so I'll be here early for the mission. It's simpler than traveling in the early hours of the morning, you know?" Sam explains as he pulls on his jacket and gathers his things.

It really is easier to just crash in one of the many guest rooms in the tower. 

What would be infinitely easier, however, is if Sam just accepted his offer at staying in the tower. That way he wouldn't have to travel back and forth between his house and the tower every week. Also, he would get the satisfaction of being able to say that he finally managed to get Sam to stay at the tower. But, seeing as this was almost a year-long argument with no signs of Sam's resolve weakening in sight, it just served as making everyone vaguely irritated that they couldn't get Sam to accept the invitation to stay in the apartment that was made for him.

When Sam leaves, Natasha wastes no time in beating about the bush and goes in straight for the kill.

She turns to look at him, and, if he looked long and hard enough, he's able to see the worry on her face, but, since Natasha is extremely good at what she does and he doesn't want to spend forever trying to understand what it is exactly that she's thinking (the effort is wasted, as soon as he thinks he knows what she's thinking she proves him wrong), he can only make out the slight furrow in her perfectly sculpted eyebrows.

It's concern. 

An emotion that he got really tired of seeing on his friend's faces when they thought he wasn't looking. Although, in the beginning, right after he and Tony broke up they hadn't even bothered to disguise their worry and concern. Now they were slightly more subtle about it, but he was getting better and better at identifying it for what it was; them looking out for a friend.

"You know, Steve, you don't have to go out on this mission. I mean, sure, Tony asked you, but I'm pretty sure you're not needed. I know for a fact that Bucky would be happy to go with us on the mission."

The way she states it so casually makes something in the back of his mind go off. So the others had been talking behind his back.

Again.

He shrugs. He doesn't want to let on just how annoyed he was at her. Not that she deserved it, of course, but it didn't mean that he didn't have a reason for being annoyed. His friends were talking behind his back. And while it was probably in good faith and in concern for his general well-being, the fact remained that they had still gone behind his back.

"Really, Nat? Way to make a guy feel wanted," he allows his tone to come off as teasing, instead of the annoyed tone he wants to convey, and he watches as it reaches its desired effect.

Natasha laughs, rolling her eyes, and her entire body language shifts from tense and worried to slightly more relaxed.

"Oh, don't pretend you haven't noticed all the looks you get whenever we step out together. Women and teenage girls in the street stop and stare at you whenever you walk past. And I've seen a few men, too! You know you're wanted, right?" she says with a teasing tone of her own, eyes twinkling in the artificial light of the boardroom.

He feels a blush working its way across his face and although he wants to laugh and shrug it off, he knows it's true. It makes him uncomfortable that people who would have never ever looked at him that way before will suddenly stop in the middle of the sidewalk to look at him now. And although he was in a relationship with Tony -  who was completely and utterly shameless - he still found that he didn't believe that people could honestly like someone like him, and the thought made him uneasy and uncomfortable.

Natasha laughs at him and stands, offering a hand and he takes it.

"Come on, let's get some dinner and watch a movie. I'm starving," she looks over her shoulder at him, "And I miss my bonding buddy. We haven't done anything fun together in a while."

He smiles, and he's surprised to note that it's a genuine one this time, not one he's had to force.

"Sure, Tasha," he says and she grins, dragging him from the boardroom and to the elevator, which he's ninety percent sure is going to take them to the communal floor's kitchen.

The nickname, as he learns, doesn't even affect her. Usually, Clint is the only one to call her that and no one else deigns to try, lest she decides to strangle them or murder them in their sleep.

It's nice to know that she likes him enough to let him call her that, and the knowledge that she thinks of him as someone she can call a friend (not that she couldn't before, but now she trusts him a bit better) warms someplace deep in his chest.

They make their way to the kitchen and Natasha starts pulling out various items.

It's strange seeing her so focused when it comes to something other than a mission, and he settles in one of the barstools to watch her as she gathers various utensils and plates and items from the fridge.

When she's done and all the items are laid out on the marble countertop, she hands him a plate and gestures to the bagels that she's managed to produce from somewhere.

He wasn't even aware that they had bagels in the tower.

He also wasn't aware of the fact that Natasha was a fan of breakfast foods for dinner. Not that he was willing to bring it up, of course, he valued his life.

He can only watch as Natasha cuts her bagel in half and spreads cream cheese on one side, and strawberry jam on the other.

The sight is enough to make his stomach turn and he has to breathe in and out several times so that he doesn't empty his already empty stomach.

For the sake of the nausea that has suddenly reared its head and his churning stomach, he hopes that she doesn't eat the two together. 

She simply raises an eyebrow at him in a challenge.

"You okay?"

He nods, finding that he is okay, for now at least. So long as he didn't have to smell - or see - what Natasha was eating then he'd be fine. 

She nods and takes a bite of the half of the bagel with the strawberry jam on it and makes her way to the lounge.

"Coming?" she calls.

He follows and they settle themselves on the sofas with their assembled dinners in their laps.

"I was thinking the Princess Bride," she says and he hums in affirmation. It wasn't so much of her asking as her stating something, anyway.

The rest of the evening passes with them spending time together and for the moment, all thoughts of the mission that awaited them tomorrow - and Tony - is the farthest thing from his mind.

Chapter Text

The day of the mission dawns bright and early. Despite the early start and the early night he had last night - Natasha noticed that he was falling asleep during the movie and instead of being upset at him not paying attention, she turned the movie off and told him to get some sleep - the mission starts off differently. 

He goes through the motions of getting ready and instead of feeling refreshed and ready for the mission he feels unprepared and unfocused.

He gets dressed and he notices that his suit isn't sitting right; it's tighter somehow and it's a slight struggle to strap on his utility belt. 

Steve frowns at his reflection in the mirror and turns, trailing a hand down the front of his suit, his frown deepening at the small bump that he feels beneath his fingers. The observation was strange, he never had a problem with his weight; he was always running or in the gym, and despite the many calories he had to intake, his weight was never a problem and never rose above or below the weight he currently was. If he did gain weight, then the serum would take care of it, so the small bump was definitely a new sight. His middle was slightly distended, now that he was looking. 

He straightens up and looks away from the mirror, shaking off any thoughts about the serum and the bump that he found.

He can't afford any distractions. Not when he was leaving on a mission. 

Despite pushing the new discovery from his mind, a tiny part in the back of his mind can't help but probe at the recently-found observation. It's weird, but it certainly wasn't the strangest thing his body has ever gone through. He thinks of the serum and all the changes his body went through, but his thoughts drift to the other things he'd found to be odd; the past few months he found that he tired easily, and sometimes, he even found himself sick to his stomach. Granted, those were the nights that Clint cooked for the team, but he couldn't find any excuse for the times when he got sick when he decided to hole himself in his apartment on the nights he couldn't stand to face the rest of the team. He also experienced brief bouts of nausea. He found the symptoms worrisome, but he'd brushed it aside and reasoned that it was due to the stress of the breakup and how hard he had been pushing himself on missions. Not that he was willing to admit that to his friends, of course.

He walks to the kitchen and grabs a glass of water, sipping from it as he checks through the things in his utility belt. When he's done, he places the glass in the sink and picks his shield off of the kitchen counter, securing it on his back.

He steps out of his apartment and meets the rest of the team outside where they're loading onto the jet. Natasha, from what he can see, is already on board. Sam is the only one still standing around in the hangar bay, leaning against one of the cargo racks along the side of the wall. He's relaxed and seems to be scrolling on his phone as he waits for the jet to be readied.

The sight reminds him of simpler times, back when the entire team went on missions; Clint would be in Sam's place, although he usually tended to nap standing up while he waited for everything to be sorted out. Natasha and Bruce would already be on the jet, sometimes going over the mission briefing and other times just conversing softly with one another. Steve and Tony would be the ones at the front of the jet. They'd talk and sometimes they'd make plans for dates later on in the day or week depending on how long the missions were and their respective schedules. Then Sam and Bucky joined and the team made space for them. Things hadn't changed much, just that Sam and Bucky were more inclined to bicker with one another if they sat next to each other on the jet.  

This time, Tony isn't with him. It's just him, Natasha and Sam. Not that he expected Tony to be with him, of course. Tony was with Pepper in California, no doubt securing some new business deal or some other or promoting new designs for the company.

He shakes any thought from Tony from his head and puts a smile on his face.

He's less than two feet away from Sam when a sharp pain in his abdomen has him stopping mid-step, a gloved hand pressing gently against the spot when his stomach tightens. The feeling is uncomfortable and he grimaces slightly, hand still over the area on his stomach.

The action is enough to grab Sam's attention and his head shoots up, a smile on his face when he sees Steve. However, the smile wavers when he notices the way Steve's standing and he gives him a brief look of concern.

He moves his hand away from his midsection, hating that he worried Sam over something small.

"You okay there, Cap?" he asks, brows furrowing. "You don't look too hot, man."  

He shakes his head. "I'm fine, Sam. Is the jet ready?" 

He doesn't want to say anything to worry Sam or any of the others, so he doesn't say anything about the odd sensation in his stomach, or how it tightened uncomfortably almost to the point of pain. 

The feeling is already gone and he shakes it off, focusing on the mission. He's already forgotten about it.

Sam nods slowly, looking almost as if he wants to argue but then he sighs in resignation.

"Yeah, the jet's already ready. Just waiting on you, Cap."

He nods at Sam and they walk towards the jet, and they step onto the ramp.

"Good, then let's go," he says.

The ramp closes behind him and Sam and they make their way to the middle of the jet and strap themselves into their seats.

It's as he's buckling his belt that he feels another cramp hit and he's thankful that this time nobody else notices. 

He's able to brush it off again just like before and he settles in for the flight.

He closes his eyes and lets the hum of the jet lull him into a relaxed state.

The mission was going to be fine.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with him

He was fine.

As soon as this mission was over he was going to take it easy, maybe lay off on going out on other missions for a bit, take his friends' advice.

*****

The entire point of the mission was to slip onto the ship and back off again without anyone noticing that they'd been there in the first place, or that the crates containing the Stark weapons that the black market pirates were planning on selling were no longer on board. They'd planned for the worst-case scenario as well; in case of any hostages being on board, they were to rescue the hostages and radio SHIELD in to deal with it, but the weapons were to be returned to Tony to be disposed of. 

The mission, as planned, goes off without a hitch and everything is running smoothly. At least, it was at first.

Natasha leaves the jet on autopilot and the reflective panels allow them to stay in the air above the ship without being detected.

They slip onto the ship with ease and Natasha slips away and into the shadows. Sam is not far behind her and he slips his goggles on, tapping something on his gauntlet, and Redwing launches into the air.

That's as far as he's aware of them; the comms are silent in his ear as he stalks the lower deck, eyes peeled for any guards and watchmen that might be walking around.

It seems like minutes after he's just begun to think about how simple this mission was that his luck runs out and life tries to prove him wrong.

He knows that it was bad to count your chickens before they're hatched and all, but for once, he really just wanted to believe that the mission would be easy. He'd believed that everything would go off as planned and that tonight as soon as the mission was over he'd be able to go back home to his apartment and relax.

And that is when he knew that he'd essentially jinxed himself.

As quickly and easily as they'd slipped above board, that was where it all ended. Things suddenly became very difficult. At least, for Steve.

He was struggling to concentrate on the mission itself, and, as if that wasn't bad enough, the discomfort that he'd felt earlier was now rearing its head again, this time washing over him in waves and bringing dull pains along with it.

He's silent as he moves along the deck, eyes roaming the dark surroundings of the ship and he pushes the feeling of discomfort from his mind, hoping it will make him focus better on the mission and take his mind off of it, but it's easier said than done; the feeling of discomfort never truly fades, instead, it seemed to be getting worse.

He takes a deep breath and holds it for a couple of counts, then releases it. He does it a few more times and it helps center him, the mission now the only important thing on his mind.

He's debating on moving further down the deck or to take the stairwell that he sees leading to the top deck when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye.

Bingo.

From what he saw, there are men patrolling the upper deck. Which means that either they're simply on the lookout for any intruders, or they're guarding something important.

He slips into the shadows and slowly makes his way to the stairwell, testing each step beneath his weight before he moves any further. 

He skips the top steps and pulls the shield from his back, releasing it from his grip and letting it sail through the air and take out the two men he saw patrolling.

They go down easily and don't get back up, and he's able to move past them.

He loses count of how many men he's taken down, sneaking up on them and taking them down silently so they don't even have a chance to reach down to the radios to call in for help. The upper deck is cleared and he alerts Natasha over comms, telling her that he's about to search for any weapons. She replies straight away and in the background, he can hear the dull this of something being hit. He tunes the sound out and lets Natasha carry on with whatever she was doing.

He's heading towards the only door that he can see, knowing that behind it must be the thing that they're looking for, the place where the weapons are being stored, but he's forced to stop mid-stride by a particularly harsh cramp. It startles him and is painful enough that he emits a gasp, breath catching in his throat. He moves his hand toward the area where the pain seemed to be emanating from and gingerly presses his hand against the spot, frowning. The bump that he'd discovered what seems like hours before is now tighter and feels firmer to the touch.

"Damn it," he mutters, biting his lip. He shuts his eyes against the onslaught of pain that washes over him again, but they shoot open when he hears the crackle signaling someone talking over the comms.

He inhales shakily, steadying his breathing, and tries to focus on the person who's talking despite the pain he was feeling.

"Cap, you okay there?" Sam asks. He nods, then realizes what he's done and replies.

"Fine. I'm fine, Sam," he says and finds that as quickly as the pain had come, it had gone again. 

"Okay. So while I couldn't find any weapons, I did find something else," Sam says, and judging by the grave tone of his voice, it wasn't anything that Steve was going to like.

"Hostages?" he asks, even though he knows that it's the case.

"Yeah. Most of them are fine, a few have minor injuries, mainly from being tied up for so long. I'll call SHIELD in to deal with them. How are you doing? Find any of Stark's weapons yet? Should be real easy to find, what with his obsession with putting his name on things."

Steve sighs. "Sam," he warns and he can practically see Sam deflate. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry. Just - try to find those weapons," Sam says.

"What did you think I was doing, then?" Steve mutters under his breath.

Louder, he says, "Copy. I'll keep you updated."

"Noted, Cap," Sam replies, then signs off of comms.

He knew that Sam meant well, really, he did. But it got annoying sometimes. And from all the times that he's had to hear snide comments about Tony coming from his friends' mouth made him mad. Really, it was beyond childish, picking sides. Besides, it was a mutual break-up, the decision something that both of them had made, and having to hear such comments about Tony being weaved into conversations - and now on missions - was enough to make him want to punch something. It wasn't fair to Tony; he'd already paid for his mistakes. He wasn't aware that his friends were willing to stoop so low and bring up old news, but apparently, he was wrong.

He tamps down on his irritation and carries on striding towards the door, keeping his hand wrapped around the handle of his shield. He's able to push forward with the mission, knowing that the hostages were safe and that Sam had the situation handled. It made it easier to focus on his task of finding weapons when he knew that SHIELD was on their way, not that they'll get there on time, seeing as past occurrences proved their penchant for arriving late onto a scene.

He's forced to stop in his tracks, however, when the door he is heading towards is suddenly forced open wildly and he watches with a sense of mild resignation as it swings open with a squeal of protest.

At least a dozen men burst through the door and he sighs, wishing that for once in his life things would be easy.

They all head towards him, weapons held in front of them and he wastes no time in engaging, flinging his shield and he hears more than sees the whistle it makes as it slices through the night air and connects with its targets, knocking them out.

The shield returns and he uses it to block a punch as he ducks beneath a flailing limb. He kicks his leg out and by the sound of the grunt he hears, he's successfully taken down another enemy.

So far he's taken down six men with ease; it's the rest that are proving to be more of a challenge.

It's as he's watching two men head toward him with their weapons drawn that he's caught off guard by the return of the pain in his stomach and he grits his teeth to keep from making a sound.

His efforts are futile, however, when the pain washes over him in another strong wave and one of the men, the one probably in charge of the others, sees his moment of weakness and uses it to strike. 

As quick as lightning he's in front of Steve, landing a blinding punch to his face. The hit is hard enough to make his vision blur slightly, but it also forces him to focus on the mission rather than the pain in his stomach.

He ignores the pain that passes over his stomach every so often and focuses on taking down the armed enemies.

He throws a punch of his own and the attacker ducks, but he's too slow and Steve's fist glances his face. The blow to his attacker's face doesn't slow him down, in fact, it only serves to make him even more angry and he grabs something off the floor, swinging it out towards Steve. 

He moves out of the every with every swing of the attacker's arm, realizing what the object in his hand is as the light of the moon causes light to glint off of it.

It's a crowbar.

He's so busy trying to dodge swings from the crowbar that he doesn't see one of the men that he knocked out earlier stagger to his feet and come up behind him, choking him with a length of what he assumes to be rope.

The man with the crowbar grins and it's an ugly thing; showing off a row of blood-coated teeth and he can't help but feel a sense of pride in the fact that he managed to get the bastard.

He tightens his hand around the shield and tries to hit the man behind him but the man dodges out of the way, forcing him to move with him due to the rope around his neck.

For a second, he sees stars as his air supply is cut off and he struggles to gasp for breath.

His attackers don't seem to care, though, and what was earlier two men fighting against one enhanced was now three men against an enhanced. An unfair fight, but when were the rules of fighting ever considered to be fair?

He throws his arm out again and this time his shield-clad arm collides with that of his attacker's face, knocking him out completely. 

He sucks in a breath of air and charges towards the attacker. His throat still feels like it's burning from the lack of air, but he knows it's nothing but phantom pain. His nose feels bruised from the punches that he received.

His attacker meets his blows head-on, unafraid and giving Steve the best he's got.

His partner rushes towards Steve from the other side and he twists his body every so often from the one side to the other, dodging hits from both men.

Soon, only one man stands before him. His partner, the one who was quick to charge his way forward with the crowbar, is lying motionless on the floor.

The man is armed with a gun, and Steve watches him warily, prepared to take him down. The gun is one that he's never seen before, but what he can tell from what little he can make out through the dim light of the evening, is that it's outdated. Judging by the appearance, he's willing to bet that it's one of Tony's old Stark weapons. But just because it's old doesn't mean that it carries a lot of firepower. Especially if it's a Stark that made it.

He tenses when he sees the man cock his head to one side, mouth slowly forming into a chilling grin.

Then, before he even sees the man's finger release the trigger, his shield is in front of him. He hears the round of bullets ricochet off the shield and he moves forward slowly, shield held aloft.

The man sees him inching forward and, with a howl, throws himself onto the floor and picks up one of the abandoned weapons from his fallen comrades.

He fires quickly, and Steve is taken off-guard by the strength of the weapon; the blow was strong enough to throw him in the air and his back hits the railing of the upper deck. He groans as his unprotected head makes contact with the steel railing, ears ringing loudly. His cowl must've been knocked off his head during the blast.

Besides him, a stack of empty crates burst into flame and he can practically feel the heat burn through his uniform.

His attacker is stalking towards him, weapon now discarded and traded for another one; his friend's crowbar. He curses, knowing exactly what the man was intending to do and tries to get up, but he's stopped in his tracks when his stomach tenses and tightens once more. The pain is stronger than before and he struggles to muffle a gasp of pain, tears welling in his eyes. 

The man is now less than five feet away from him and he's started to walk faster, sensing that Steve wasn't just going to take a beating lying down.

His comm bursts to life in his ear. "Cap? You okay?" It's Natasha. She sounds a little winded, but knowing her she's perfectly fine and in control of the entire situation.

Unlike him.

He inhales, fighting back another pained groan at the pain it causes him. "Fine," he grits out. She doesn't reply and he takes it as her taking his word for it. The comm is silent once more.

He manages to stand, but pauses when the pain washes over him again. He grits his teeth and tries to breathe through it, but it's not quite enough to help him focus and ignore it. The man is now a foot away from him, and he doesn't hesitate in fighting his way forward. 

He's successful in dodging a couple of punches and kicks, only just, but he's not fast enough to dodge the oncoming blow with the crowbar. He pulls his shield up in front of him, but he's seconds too slow and the heavy tool knocks him in the side of his head.

He's knocked to the ground once more and he grunts in pain. His vision is blurry and he's suddenly dizzy, causing him to see double. Through his blurry vision he can just about make out a shadow in the shape of the man and he rolls away, but is stopped by the man placing a boot on his chest. Guess the man was closer than he thought.

"Think you're the shit, huh? Walking onto this ship like you own it and taking down men left, right and center. Well, think again, hotshot. You've got the wrong idea. Stark is the one in the wrong, getting the idea in his head that he's better than us when in reality he's no better than anyone else on this ship. Like it or not, those weapons belong to us and there's nothing you can do about it," the man spat out, drawing his leg back and kicking Steve in the stomach.

He swallows a gasp and grits his teeth, looking around for his fallen shield. It's two feet away, hidden between the crates where he last dropped it. Before the man gets any more ideas - such as kicking a fallen person once they're already down - he stands, moving into a fighting stance. The man sees this and scowls, immediately running towards him with his fists raised and Steve blocks every blow with blows of his own. He dodges a high flying kick and brings his fist up, knocking his attacker in the jaw. His attacker howls, angry at the assault, but it does nothing to stop and distract him. In fact, it only spurs him on and he glares at Steve before charging even closer. 

Steve holds his hands up to protect himself, but when the attacker tries to land a blow towards his already aching stomach, he grows annoyed. When was this man going to give up already?

He sighs before picking the attacker up by his collar and throws him towards the direction of the staircase he entered the upper deck from. Except, the attacker sails over the railing of the ship and Steve can just about make out the sounds of a distant splash.

He winces. He must've overcalculated the distance and the strength at which he threw the man.

With the attacker gone, he takes a moment to calm his labored breathing and takes stock of his surroundings. It's hard to focus properly, however, because the smoke from the blast, coupled with his already heavy breathing and the pain in his stomach worsening by what feels every couple of minutes, is making it hard for him to breathe.

His mind drifts towards the harsh kick that he received in his stomach, and he wonders if the pain he's feeling is because of it. Although he has no doubts that he's already black and blue from all the blows he's gotten tonight.

He's aware that no one can escape from a mission unharmed; if you did, you were one of the lucky ones and perhaps the odds were simply in your favor.

He ignores the pain coming from his stomach and wipes a hand across his face, coming across a cut that's bleeding slightly. At least it's only a surface wound and not an internal one , he tells himself, those are the ones you have to watch out for.

With a sigh he heads towards the door he never even had a chance to reach before he was ambushed. As he's reaching towards the two crates of stolen Stark weapons, his comm buzzes in his ear.

"Whoa, Cap. I just saw someone fly over the side of the ship. I'm pretty sure you weren't supposed to throw the guy overboard." It's Sam and he sounds somewhat amused by what he just witnessed.

He gives an exasperated sigh, and, despite the fact that he wasn't supposed to encourage such acts no matter whether the people we're good or evil, he feels a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah, sorry. Forgot my own strength for a minute. Although, I'm pretty sure I just made SHIELD's job easier." he says, spying the speedboats just beyond the horizon. If he strains his ears, he can just about make out the oncoming helicopter, no doubt one belonging to SHIELD.

"Man, what are you apologizing and sounding all embarrassed for? Wish I could just be like 'oh, I forgot my strength for a minute' whenever I want and throw someone off a roof or something. Preferably Barnes and preferably from the Tower," Sam says and he laughs, shaking his head at the visual he gets.

"Cap, SHIELD is en route. ETA two minutes," comes Natasha's voice. A beat and then, "Wow, guess you can add throwing people overboard as one of your many other skills, Steve."

He feels his cheeks heat at Natasha's teasing tone.

"Whatever," he mutters, feeling embarrassed. He can't help but smile a little when he hears both Sam and Natasha laugh at his sad come back.

Pretty soon, SHIELD arrives on the scene. As predicted, they're late, but they walk onto the ship like they own the place. The agents flying the helicopter touch down on the ship's landing pad, and he winces at the less than graceful landing. He supposes it's one of the newer agents.

Hill slides open the door on the side of the helicopter and hops out. 

Not even two minutes later Sam and Natasha are climbing the staircase and joining him on the upper deck. They're talking quietly among themselves and he doesn't interrupt, watching the SHIELD agents do their job. They do a good job of collecting and pacifying the hostages that are shaken up. The SHIELD agents that arrived with Hill help collect and arrest the attackers that are strewn about various rooms on the ship. 

He turns around to see Hill snap cuffs on what he supposes is the leader of this entire operation. She perp walks him towards the helicopter and shoves him towards a waiting agent, who grabs him and shoves him into the seat. She blows out a breath and dusts off her hands, giving the leader one last stern look and stalks off the landing pad, walking towards him.

She comes to a stop to where they're standing and glances over the side of the railing, watching as one of the agents in the SHIELD-issue speedboat pulls the attacker that he threw overboard out of the water and snaps a pair of cuffs over his wrists. They pay no mind to his shivering and cursing and one of the agents gives a tiny salute in Hill's direction, to which she nods before turning to look at him and the others.

"Another mission well done, Cap," she claps him on the back and pulls a tablet from thin air, tapping away immediately.

At the indignant huff from Sam, she looks up, cocking a brow. "Did I miss something, Wilson?" she asks.

"Where's my thanks? I basically saved all those hostages by myself while Natasha did her own thing," he gripes. Hill rolls her eyes and laughs. "Thanks, Falcon. Do you want a gold star too? I can ask one of the agents if they happen to have any stickers on them," she teases and Sam throws his hands up, mumbling something about people not appreciating him enough.

Hill ignores him and goes back to tapping away on her tablet, consulting Natasha on a few things as she goes along.

When they're done, Hill tucks her tablet away and looks at each of them, scrutinizing them carefully.

When she speaks, it's directed towards Steve. "Fury will want a mission report by tomorrow morning. As for everything going on over here, SHIELD's got clean-up sorted. Get those weapons to Stark before he becomes an even bigger pain in Fury's ass. And get some rest, Cap, you look rough. All of you do."

"I'll have the report done bright and early. You sure you guys have everything handled?" he can't help asking.

Maria nods. "Yup." She smirks slightly. "The new agents have to learn somehow, right? I figured we should let them start out with a mission clean-up first."

He laughs and Sam and Natasha join in, glancing around the ship and seeing the agents busy with the task of cleaning up.

"Get some rest tonight, guys, you did well," Maria says and walks away, yelling across the ship to one of the agents.

The mission was finally over.

He could go back home to his apartment and rest.

They're walking onto the quinjet's ramp when Sam slows down slightly and gives him a once over. "I think when we land you should get yourself checked out. You don't look too hot," Sam says.

He shakes his head, shrugging Sam's worry off. Leaving the mission in a spotless condition was impossible, and if you did you were incredibly lucky. So far, he was the only one who looked to be in the worst condition, but he was okay with it. Just a couple of cuts littered across his face and hands. And the blood from the cut on his temple made everything look worse than it really was. Besides, the others were just as bruised and cut up as he was. 

If anything, he should be making them go down to medical for a check-up because he wasn't even with them to see whether they got injured or not.

"I'm fine, Sam. I don't need to get myself checked out," he says in what he hopes is a placating tone, "Just a couple of cuts and bruises. It will be gone in a couple of hours."

"I know. But I wasn't talking about the cuts and bruises. Sounded like you got one hell of a beating over the comms." Sam eyes the arm that he's wrapped around his aching stomach and he tenses slightly, dropping his arm. Sam raises an eyebrow and he looks away.

"I'm fine," he repeats. Sam nods.

"Whatever you say, man."

"Like I said, the cuts and bruises will heal soon. No use in wasting other people's time," he says, trying to explain himself. He didn't mean to make it sound so harsh earlier, but he was in pain and exhausted.

Sam huffs out a laugh, giving him a friendly clap on the back.

"If you say so."

"He smiles at Sam. "I do."

It's enough to make Sam drop the conversation and they make their way further into the quinjet. He settles in the co-pilot's seat beside Natasha and straps himself in.

When they finally land back at the tower's hangar bay, it's just pushing eleven-thirty. They stagger out of the quinjet, each of them carrying bits and pieces of their uniforms that they took off. 

The crates containing the Stark weapons are waiting to be offloaded and Sam wastes no time in grabbing one side of the crate and shoving. He gets with the plan quickly enough and helps Sam unload the crates.

Natasha watches them unhelpfully from the side of the hangar bay, leaning against the wall and using a knife that she pulled out of thin air to clean her nails. Not that they were dirty, just that she tended to do things like that to come off as intimidating or scary. Who knew why she did the things she did?

When they're done off-loading the crates she stands, her knife disappearing once more and she dusts her hands off, nodding appreciatively at the crates.

"We can leave the crates here, or we can bring them inside with us. I'm not sure if Tony is back from SI yet."

They nod.

"Okay, then we leave the crates here. We can always get them later. I don't know about you boys, but I plan on taking a long shower and then sleeping till the next afternoon. I don't care what Fury wants," Natasha says and Sam pulls a face.

"Hell, yeah. Me too, man. I'm wiped. See y'all tomorrow. Also, can we ignore the fact that I'm sleeping over tonight? I just don't see myself driving home right now," Sam asks, looking between them.

Natasha turns to look at him, a smirk playing on her lips. He feels himself smiling in return.

He guessed that they could finally say that they managed to convince Sam to stay in the tower, after all.

"I don't know, Wilson. Can we, Steve?" she asked teasingly.

He shrugged, playing innocent.

"I don't know, Natasha. It's up to you," he said.

"You two are the worst, you know that?" Sam threw up his arms.

Natasha laughed.

He joined in, but his laughter was cut short when his breath hitched as his stomach twisted painfully again, tightening uncomfortably.

He decided that it was best to leave their company and retreat to his apartment; he could already imagine the feeling of the hot water beating down his back, the pressure from the showerhead soothing the various aches and pains from the mission.

He bids each of them goodnight for the evening and takes the elevator down to his apartment. Once in the elevator, he leans back, banging his head against the wall. He allows his eyes to slip shut and he heaves a big sigh.

"Is everything okay, Captain?" he startles at the question from FRIDAY and his eyes shoot open.

"I'm fine, FRIDAY, just tired," he replies.

"Alright, Captain."

He shuts his eyes once more, thinking about the mission.

It's silent in the elevator, and he can't help it when he decides to ask FRIDAY about Tony.

He just wanted to know whether Tony would be able to collect the crates of weapons tomorrow morning or if he and Sam should take them to the workshop, that's all. He had absolutely no need to know whether Tony would be home soon, or if he was still at SI with Pepper.

But... he wasn't being truly honest with himself.

Truth be told, he was disappointed that Tony wasn't here to ask them how the mission went. Maybe it's because he feels the need to yell at Tony for leaving his weapons lying around and he has to clean up his messes, but he's not too sure where the emotions he's feeling are stemming from.

It's confusing, to say the least.

"FRIDAY, do you happen to know if Tony's home?" he asks. He feels a surge of embarrassment flood through him, and another emotion that he cannot place, but feels oddly like a mixture of hopefulness and disappointment.

"Yes, Captain. Boss left Stark Industries six hours ago and is currently five minutes away from the tower."

"Oh, okay," he says, surprised that Tony was already on his way back to the tower. Usually, when Tony flew out to California for business, he tended to stay an entire week, not overnight. "Thank you, FRIDAY."

"It's a pleasure, Captain Rogers."

There's silence, but he can tell that FRIDAY had more to say, and he frowns. Usually, the A.I would just come out and say whatever she wanted to say. It's just the way she was, and, since she was newer than JARVIS, and not quite as good as the other AI, she tended to come across as less polite and more sarcastic. But he supposes it's also because Tony programmed her to have her own personality and to sound less formal and stiff. 

"Yes, FRIDAY?"

A beat and then, "I apologize, Captain. I understood that you wished to relax, but Sergeant Barnes wished to know how the mission was."

He frowns slightly.

"Buck's still awake? Usually, he falls asleep when there's nobody else around."

"Sergeant Barnes fell asleep an hour ago, Captain, but his express wishes were that I wake him up as soon as you and the other arrived," FRIDAY explains.

He shakes his head at the explanation from FRIDAY, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Tell Bucky that I'm fine, and so are the others. He can go back to sleep. I'll go down to his apartment tomorrow," he tells FRIDAY.

"I will do so, Captain."

The elevator ride carries on in silence, and he allows himself to ease into the feeling of being at home once more.

When the elevator opens to his apartment, it feels like there's a huge weight that's been lifted from his shoulders.

He opens the door and steps inside, pulling the shield from his back and props it beside the front door, kicking the door shut with his heel as he starts tugging his gloves off.

He sighs, feeling exhausted.

He glances at the fridge, contemplating the idea of heating up a ready-to-go meal, but even that seems like too much effort. Besides, he's feeling slightly nauseous, and his bed seems to be calling his name even more than the ready-prepared meal was.

He finally reaches his bedroom and starts the ridiculously long process of removing the uniform. The process is made even longer - and he's forced to pause every few minutes - by the tender bruises scattered all along his body and the now constant aching in his abdomen.

The discomfort that he'd felt during the mission was beginning to border on mind-numbing pain every couple of minutes and to him, every time the pain slammed into him, it felt like he was standing along a precipice, being pushed further and further towards the edge until he felt as if he could carry on no further.

It was horrible, but nothing compared to what he'd endured before.

So he grits his teeth and breathes through it, carrying on with his task of stripping and hopes the hot water and the pressure from the shower jets will help ease a bit of the pain radiating from his aching body.

The pain in his abdomen, he knew, was something that he'd have to sleep off and the serum would do its job.

He turns the handle on the tap, letting the water run until it's hot and he shimmies out of the last of the uniform, stepping into the warm spray.

The warmth from the shower, and the pressure of the spray as it falls down his back causes him to hiss from all the bruises that cover his body, but he stands still and allows it to run its course and soon he's feeling slightly better, the aches in his body easing a little more.

Now that he's undressed, it's easier to assess the damage; nothing but a few scrapes and bruises.

What captures his attention is his middle. The small bump that he'd found hours ago is basically one big bruise, green with a few areas turning blue and purple already. He prods at the curve of his stomach lightly, finding it to be tender and tighter than it was before.

He frowns, but carries on with the task of scrubbing himself clean.

He's reaching for the bottle of shampoo when his stomach tightens, and he drops his hand, knocking a few bottles down from the shower ledge and they clatter to the floor, one opening and spilling its contents.

He pays no mind to the mess on the shower floor, eyes shut tight. He groans as the pain seems to increase, and he leans his head against the wall of the shower. The hand that he dropped when reaching for the bottle of shampoo trails down towards the bump, feeling as it tightens beneath his palm.

"Captain, is everything alright?" FRIDAY's concerned tone filters through the hidden speakers and he nods despite the fact that she can't see him.

"Yeah, I'm fine, FRIDAY," he mumbles, continuing to breathe in and out, his eyes remaining shut.

"Are you certain, Captain? My scanners are detecting an increase in - "

"FRIDAY, it's fine. I'm fine."

The A.I. goes silent and he's able to move away from the shower wall once more when the pain fades.

He sighs when he glances down towards the mess of bottles at his feet and he bends down to retrieve them.

FRIDAY's voice comes from the speakers what feels like two minutes later.

"Captain, I am sorry to disturb your shower but I thought that you would like to know that Boss has just returned to the tower. He is entering the garage as we speak. Should I pass on the message that you'd like to speak with him about the mission?" she asks.

He pauses, biting his lips as he contemplates meeting up with Tony to discuss the mission.

"I, uh." He struggles to find words.

FRIDAY is silent, and he imagines that if she were a living, breathing person, she'd be amused by his fumbling and awkwardness regarding his ex.

"Okay, FRIDAY. You can pass on the message. Tell him, uh, tell him that he can meet me in my apartment?" he says, unsure of whether or not it was a good idea.

"Will do, Captain."

This time he hurries through the rest of his shower. He's rinsing the suds from his body when a hard cramp hits and he can't help but let out a muffled scream that comes from his mouth. He leans against the wall for support, legs feeling unsteady as the pain just seems to intensify by each passing second. He screws his eyes shut, biting down hard on his lip at the pain that racks his entire frame, the familiar tang of iron coating his tongue. He must've bitten his lip so hard that he drew blood.

This time the pain takes longer to taper off, and by the end of it his body feels like it's been coated in a layer of cool sweat despite the fact that he was still in the shower. When the pain releases its vice-like claws from his body, he wastes no time in shutting the water off, stepping out of the shower and grabbing the towel he'd laid out earlier to dry himself. 

Chapter Text

Steve enters his bedroom, heading towards his closet. He shivers and regrets not setting out his clothing earlier. He knows, rationally, that the temperature wasn't any cooler than it usually was, but in his head it seemed colder, and his mind drifts to less pleasant thoughts. Memories of cold winters and snow storms more than seventy years ago.

He shakes his head, annoyed at himself for conjuring up such horrible thoughts, and unwraps the towel that was wrapped around his waist, trying to get dressed as quickly as possible to stay warm.

He's just slipped on his t-shirt and was about to pull on a pair of comfy sweatpants when FRIDAY alerts him to the fact that Tony was standing outside his apartment door.

He freezes.

"Shall I tell Boss that you're getting dressed?" FRIDAY asks and he frowns.

"No! No, uh, you can let him in so long. Tell him that I, uh, tell him that I'll be out soon," Steve says.

He picks up his sweatpants from where he's dropped them on the floor and starts pulling them on.

He's reaching for the oversized hoodie that he'd lent from Bucky and just never found the need to return when a painful cramp causes him to seize up, and he chokes on a breath of air, eyes tearing at the pain radiating from his abdomen and the pressure building up in his pelvic region.

"Oh god," he groans, trailing one hand down to his abdomen.

A cold sweat breaks out across his body and he pants through the pain.

He stands there for so long that he forgets about Tony who's waiting for him in the lounge, until a knock on the door brings him out of the panic and pain-fuelled haze he finds himself in.

"Steve? I brought dinner, but I couldn't find the rest of the plates. They're not in the place you usually leave them in and -"

"I'm coming. Just - just give me a minute!" he yells in reply and his serum-enhanced hearing picks up the sounds of Tony's sigh, before he walks away.

He feels guilty for yelling at Tony until another cramp comes, this time sharper and lasting longer than the rest he's felt all day, and he moves closer to the edge of his bed, his legs feeling as if they're about to give out beneath his weight.

He tries to breathe through the pain, hand clenching and unclenching as he tries to center himself, but it's not working; the pain is fierce and the pressure adds to his discomfort.

And then there's a sudden and unexpected pop and a fluid gushes from somewhere, wetting his sweatpants. His eyes widen, surprised at what just happened. "What the fuck?" He mutters. Did he just wet himself?

Really, of all things to happen to him today, and while Tony was currently a room away.

He feels a surge of hot embarrassment and disgust flow through his body and he tears his eyes away from the small puddle of bodily fluids on the floor and soaking his sweatpants.

He waits for another cramp to come, but when none comes he deems it safe to move once again.

He straightens up and takes a deep breath, releasing it once again when he feels the tension in his body ease up.

He tugs off his sweatpants, ignoring the wet patch and throws it in the direction of the laundry basket before pulling out another pair and slipping it on.

When he's dressed - for the second time in one evening - he pulls a hand through his hair and bites his lip, trying to build up the courage to leave the bedroom and face Tony who was no doubt going to pretend everything between them was normal and ask questions about the mission.

The one mission where everything that could go wrong with him went wrong.

Honestly, what god did he manage to anger in such a short period of time that they thought it was necessary to punish him like this?

His ma always did say he attracted all sorts of trouble. Landed himself in the thick of it, too.

He huffs out a laugh, albeit, this time shaky, and finds himself struggling to hold back a fond smile. 

If only his ma could see him now, too chicken shit to leave his bedroom and talk to his ex. She'd laugh if she could see him.

He blows out a breath and glances at the door, before deciding that he was done hiding and turned the handle and stepping out.

When he finally steps out of the safety from his bedroom, he hears the sound of Tony's muffled cursing and various cupboards opening and closing.

He watches Tony from the kitchen's entryway and the longer he watches, he feels a tiny part of him twist painfully at what was no longer his.

Tony takes a while to notice him, focused on his task of opening the takeout containers, but when he does, the smile he sends Steve's way is blinding. And he can't help but notice that while it's one of the smiles Tony used to give him a lot when they were dating, it was also a tiny bit tense and brittle around the edges, as if Tony was tired but was afraid to show it.

"Hey! FRIDAY told me you guys managed to get the - Steve, what the hell happened to your face?" Tony sounds concerned, a frown marring his features.

Tony's hand reaches towards his face, gently probing at the cut on his temple.

His eyes are staring intently on the gash and, unbeknownst to him, he's moved the exact amount of steps from the kitchen counter to the entryway, which puts him smack bang in Steve's personal space bubble.

Tony's intense gaze and the worry and gentleness with which he checks over the tiny - still very much not healed, which he found to be odd, but was in favor of ignoring it for the moment - cut across his temple makes Steve uncomfortable, and he swallows against the lump that's formed in his throat and refuses to budge no matter what.

When Tony presses the pad of his finger lightly against the tender bruise surrounding the cut, he finds himself suddenly unable to draw in a breath, his eyes locked with Tony's.

The moment is ruined when he clears his throat, stepping away from Tony's careful touches and worried gaze.

"I'm fine, Tony," he mutters, voice hoarse for reasons he can't tell. "It's just a simple cut."

He's not looking at Tony, so he completely misses the way Tony freezes up, almost as if he's just realized what he had been doing, a blank look settling over his face. Tony steps away, clearing his own throat and turns his back to Steve, hands fiddling with the takeout containers.

"Okay, then," he hears Tony mutter. Steve can't help but think it's something Tony didn't intend for him to hear. But then Tony says "I'm glad you and the others made it back safe and uninjured, Rogers. Well, for the most part."

Hearing Tony use his last name instead of calling him 'Steve' like he did earlier makes something inside of him pang, and he resists the urge to just ask Tony to use his name. Was it really that bad between them? That Tony was willing to pretend that they were never  even together? 

It made him feel sad and hurt, and, if he was being honest with himself, he was a little angry, too.

"Yeah, we're back," he mutters, "Safe and uninjured."

Tony doesn't say anything, and he assumes that Tony didn't hear what he said. If Tony did, then he's doing a good job of pretending that he didn't.

He moves to one of the cupboards and removes two mugs, settling them down on the counter besides the coffee machine. 

Tony looks up, and when he sees the coffee brewing his entire face lights up. Then he sees Steve watching him and nods towards one of the many paper bags containing takeout. 

"I know how much energy missions take, and I thought you might be hungry. Wasn't sure what you were in the mood for, and, uh, I might have overdone it a bit." Tony rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish smile playing at his lips.

He's taken aback by the movement, and wonders when he missed the changes in Tony. Because Tony Stark never got embarrassed. And not by a simple act of ordering too much takeout. 

Then he wonders if maybe it's him that was causing Tony to act the way he was, and he feels a surge of discomfort and guilt wash over him. 

Here they were, finally spending time together after months of ignoring each other and the relationship they had had, and he manages to make Tony uncomfortable to the point where he gets embarrassed.

Didn't they promise that no matter what, they'll always be friends? And friends hung out and ate together, but he made things awkward between them.

When he doesn't reply, Tony looks down at the counter, fingers drumming a beat that only he could hear in his head.

"So." Tony says, after a pregnant pause, "I decided to get a bit of everything. I figured that if you didn't like it then more for me, right?"

Tony's rambling now, hands gesturing to the takeout containers and the paper bags containing what he guessed to be even more takeout.

Just how many people did Tony plan on feeding? And just how much did Tony panic?

Because as long as he knew Tony, he knew that Tony was so hung up on pleasing everyone and making other people comfortable and happy, that he tended to panic and then he overthought things. Which, over recent years and stories that he's heard from both Rhodey and Pepper - they'd laughed about it when they'd warned him about Tony's tendency to gift others, especially the ones he loves - resulted in huge bunnies sitting in driveways and custom cars as anniversary or birthday presents.

This was pretty small-scale compared to that, but it was still a little overwhelming.

And the fact that Tony had bought all that takeout - he'd noticed that there were different paper bags, and assumed Tony had bought from various places - shows just how nervous he was to meet up with Steve and discuss the mission.

Although Steve's under no impression that Tony was actually nervous to talk about the mission, rather the fact that Tony was nervous to be in the same space with him.

"Right," he says, glancing down at his hands, before meeting Tony's gaze.

Tony was the first to look away, clapping his hands together and angling his body towards the counter.

"Right. So there's Pad Thai in that bag, just never got to opening it yet, and then there's dumplings. The chili oil should be somewhere on the counter. There's pappardelle pasta with duck ragu and truffle oil, potstickers and spring rolls. Oh, and I got some sushi."

Tony turns to look at him, then tilts his head in question.

"Anndd you're staring. What?" Tony asks.

He shakes his head, shocked at the sheer amount of food that Tony had ordered for only two people.

And now that he could finally see all the food, it's like his sense of smell finally caught up with the rest of what he was currently seeing, because he lost what little appetite he had just by all the rich smells that the food gave off. Not that it was bad, just that the smell of the food made him even more nauseous than he already was.

"Nothing, nothing. Uh, you can make yourself comfortable, I'll get the coffee," he says, turning away from the food in the hopes that just by angling his face and nose away from the takeout, he won't have to smell it anymore. His efforts are in vain because he can still smell the food, and he tries to breathe through his mouth.

He tries not to focus on the nausea that seems to be rolling around in the pit of his stomach, but it brings his attention to something else; his belly is cramping up again. He inhales, one hand falling to his stomach and he falters, closing his eyes and praying for the pain to fade.

"FRIDAY told me that the crates have been - You okay?" Tony asks, brows furrowed in concern. He curses internally at his bad luck and looks at Tony, giving him a small, tense smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he lies through his teeth, hoping that Tony would buy the lie. Tony nods, then goes back to his phone, and he thanks any god who happens to be watching for small mercies. He figures that Tony was looking over the footage that FRIDAY sent him of their mission.

The pain fades and he carries on with his task of getting the coffee pot, listening with half an ear to Tony reviewing the mission stats.

He's about to bring the coffee pot over to the section of the counter where they've chosen to sit when the pain returns, and this time he can't contain his pained gasp, his grip loosening on the pot's handle. Tony's head shoots up from the table, a frown on his face, but then Tony sees what's happening and rushes over to help.

"Shit, Steve. What's wrong?" he asks. Tony grabs the coffee pot from his hands and puts it back then turns to face him.

"Captain Rogers, I think it's best -"

"FRIDAY, it's fine. Leave it," he growls.

"Rogers, what the hell is happening? You're as pale as a fucking sheet. I swear to god, if you're hurt -"

He bats Tony's hovering hands away and moves out of the enclosed space, inhaling deeply. He makes to leave the kitchen area, wanting to get away from Tony, but he doesn't get too far. The living room is as far as he's able to get, Tony close on his heels and still arguing when he feels the pain return with a vengeance and he doubles over, clutching at his stomach with both hands. He groans, closing his eyes.

"Rogers, are you - Wait, are you hurt? Why the fuck haven't you gotten yourself checked out yet? What happened on that mission?" Tony tries to ask, hand rubbing uselessly at Steve's back in an effort to comfort him.

Other times he'd find the act sweet, but now it was just serving to drive him even more up the wall than he already was. God, he was in pain and so, so tired. Why did Tony have to keep arguing and annoying him? 

"Tony, I don't know. Just - FRIDAY, can you-"

He's cut off when the pain gets worse and he cries out, grabbing at anything in the near vicinity to hold on to, and when his hand finds Tony's bicep, he squeezes, trying and failing to breathe through the pain.

He's panicking, realizing that something is severely wrong.

Tony seems to realize this too, because he doesn't complain at how hard Steve's holding onto his arm, but directs his attention to the A.I. and encircles his free hand around Steve's waist, guiding him to the elevator.

"FRIDAY, honey, I need you to alert the staff we have in medical that we have a situation. Tell them to be prompt," Tony orders.

"Steve, you know, there are times when I want to punch you in your face for your stubbornness. We need our team leader, and believe it or not, you can't lead a team if you're dying," Tony says, a hysterical edge in his voice. The elevator doors slide closed behind them.

He feels a wave of guilt wash over him, and he tries to apologize, but his words are swallowed up by a groan when the pain comes back again.

He tightens his grip on Tony's shirt, wanting the pain to just disappear already, but it seems to take its own sweet time and lasts longer than what he expects.

Tony tries to help by grabbing his hand in a show of support, and tells him to just breathe.

"Why didn't you go to medical? You're trembling and I've never seen you in this much pain before. Ever."

He laughs bitterly. "Yeah, of course not. You weren't exactly here all the time, Tony, how would you know? And don't preach, you're just as stubborn. I figured that the pain would disappear, that the serum would kick in once I fell asleep," he snaps. 

Then the fight leaves him and he closes his eyes, leaning his head against the wall of the elevator.

He didn't mean to snap at Tony. It was shitty of him to say the things he did, and to refer to things that were in the past. How was Tony supposed to know that he hurt Steve? Especially since it was a mutual breakup and they agreed on staying friends.

"Yeah, Steve, but you could have at least told someone that you weren't okay. What if I hadn't come up? And then what?" Tony questions.

He refuses to look Tony in the eye, not wanting to see the anger on Tony's face, or to see the hurt that his harsh words caused Tony.

"Tony, I really don't want to argue right now," he says tiredly, lifting his head from the wall and staring at the numbers showing which floor they were on. They were close to the medical floor.

He knew Tony was right, but admitting it in his head and saying it out loud were two very different things.

Then he hears Tony sigh. "Sorry. I'm not trying to upset you. I'm just concerned about a friend."

He's about to respond when he feels another cramp build, and he bites his lip, his head tipping back and eyes slipping shut as he tries to breathe. His hand falls down to his abdomen, feeling the warm skin beneath his palm. Even dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants he was burning up. And to think that earlier he was getting cold.

Tony sees this and looks at him worriedly, then directs his attention to the camera positioned in the shadows of the top-most corner of the elevator.

"FRIDAY, how long till we reach the med floor? Make the elevator move faster, can't you tell that we're in a hurry?"

If he were feeling any better, he would've laughed. Tony usually made fun of him whenever he used to talk to JARVIS and look towards the ceiling. Even now, a few years and a brand new A.I. later he still does it. What can he say? Old habits die hard.

But as it stands, he was in too much pain to huff out a laugh, much less laugh normally.

"Sorry, Boss. The elevator is moving as fast as it can. If I increase the speed any more problems may arise. You are on the ninety-first floor. Estimated time of arrival two minutes," the A.I states.

Tony shakes his head, a look of frustration on his face.

Then he turns to Steve. "I'm sorry. Just - hang on so long, okay?" he says.

This time he finds the energy to huff out a laugh despite the heart-wrenching pain he was in.

"It's okay, Tony. I've been hanging on all day, I think I can manage a couple of minutes more."

The two minutes to the medical floor - which lies between the Avengers' private floors and the floors for S.I personnel - seems like the longest sixty seconds of his life. The stabbing pain doesn't recede and return any longer, thankfully, but there is a dull ache in his lower abdomen, and the area feels heavy. It's a strange feeling, and he doesn't think that heavy describes it well, but it's the closest thing he could think of. 

There's also a slight increase in pressure in his pelvic area, which he does his best to ignore, hoping for his sake that he doesn't wet himself again - this time in front of Tony. He doesn't think he'll be able to deal with the amount of shame and embarrassment if it should happen again.

Throughout the elevator ride down to medical, Tony remains a constant presence by his side, a warm hand resting on whatever part of his body he could reach. He won't admit it out loud, especially since a part of him is fighting against accepting the touch from his ex, but Tony's presence, and by extension, his touch, makes him feel so much more at ease and comforted. That whatever was happening wasn't so bad with Tony by his side.

It's as they're getting to the last two floors before medical that the pain starts building up. It's slow, which means that he doesn't feel the difference at once, but it means that as soon as they've finally reached the medical floor that the pain becomes noticeable.

He winces, tightening his grip on Tony and Tony stops in his tracks, eyeing him worriedly. "Hang on, Steve, we're nearly there. Just -"

He shakes his head, breathing in deeply, then straightens his posture, trying to give Tony a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine, Tony. I know," he cuts in.

Tony looks as if he doesn't believe a word he says, which, okay, he wouldn't either, but Tony is at least nice enough not to say anything.

Instead, Tony puts a hand on his lower back, guiding him gently out of the elevator and onto the medical floor.

It's silent, but then again, at this time of the night, the medical floor is pretty silent, what with all the usual staff having gone home for the night and a handful of staff remaining just in case of any emergency.

They don't make it far before the pain returns, this time not having any leniency, and he gasps.

Tony turns to look at him, then directs his attention to FRIDAY once more.

"FRIDAY, get me someone who can help. Right now! It's an emergency!"

Not even two minutes later a doctor comes rushing out of a room, her white coat trailing behind her as she takes long strides to where they're standing.

Relief washes over him at the sight of the doctor. But the pain is simply too strong for him to focus on anything else and he groans in pain again.

She takes one look at them, then her eyes widen, and she leads them to a room.

They follow her, Tony guiding him and hurling question after question at the doctor. He doesn't bother telling Tony to stop from drilling the woman; the pain is so sharp that it's taking every bit of self-restraint he has not to collapse in a heap on the floor and curl around himself. 

"Captain Rogers, I need you to take a seat on the bed over there. Mr. Stark, do you mind giving me a minute with the Captain?" the doctor's voice is calm, but steely when she speaks to Tony.

He's not the only one who detects it, because Tony's eyes narrow, and he scowls.

"I don't like your tone, Doctor. I'm just concerned about my friend, and the Captain of my team. Forgive me for worrying," Tony says.

This time he finds himself intervening.

"Tony, just - maybe you should leave. I'm sure you can come - Ah!" he stops, crying out when another cramp starts to build, almost as if they were one on top of the other. 

He can hear sounds in the background of the hospital room, as well as distorted voices of both Tony and the doctor, but he finds it difficult to focus on them through the ongoing pain.

He curls around himself even tighter.

"What's wrong with him? Your A.I. informed me of a mission -"

"What the hell is wrong with him? Something is wrong, he never reacts to pain this badly! FRIDAY, do a scan," Tony says over the doctor, sounding slightly hysterical, and more than a little panicked. He's never seen Steve in pain like this before, and it terrifies him. Even when Steve got hurt on missions, he just gritted his teeth and carried on.

The doctor is now at his side, trying to get him to uncurl from his position and breathe, but the pain is getting to be too much and he's starting to feel lightheaded.

He agrees with Tony. Never, not once since receiving the serum, has he ever experienced pain this severe.

"Mr. Stark, I must ask you to leave the room. I understand that you are worried about your Captain's wellbeing, but you are -"

The doctor is cut off once again, this time by FRIDAY.

"Boss, I'm detecting a heartbeat. The Captain is experiencing labor," FRIDAY informed them.

She seems unfazed by this information, almost as if she already knew. And she probably did. 

Tony turns to face him, mouth slack.

"You're - you're pregnant?" he asks faintly.

He and Tony stare at each other, both of their faces conveying the same set of emotions; panic, worry, concern and confusion.

"I'm, no, I can't be. I'm not even - Tony, the mission," he hears himself say, voice panicked.

"How - what?"

"The Captain is thirty-two weeks pregnant. He is currently entering the active stage of labour," FRIDAY chimes in once more.

"I'm not… I'm not. Oh god, I can't be. It's not possible - I - ah!" he cries out, throwing his head back as the pain shoots through his abdomen once more.

The doctor puts her hand on his shoulder, pushing him down until he's lying down on the bed.

"Mr. Stark, I need you to stop. Captain Rogers, you are pregnant. And right now, I need you to listen to me, okay?" she addresses him. 

He opens his mouth to say yes, but all he can do is groan as his stomach cramps up.

Now he can't help but see all the signs that he was pregnant. How on earth did he miss something like this? The loss of appetite, the sudden bouts of dizziness and migraines. The slight weight that he picked up - not that he was showing. The strange changes that he'd picked up on weren't because he was pushing himself after a bad break-up, or because he was simply exhausted, but because he was pregnant. The signs were glaringly obvious.

And now he was supposed to give birth to a baby he wasn't even aware he was carrying in the first place.

The cramps were coming faster and faster, and were more intense than the rest he'd been experiencing than the others before it.

"Captain, I know you're in a lot of pain right now, but I have to ask you a question and you need to answer me, okay? How long have you been feeling these pains?" The doctor asked him.

She was moving around the room, moving supplies and equipment around that he couldn't name, not that he was interested in it or could focus on it for too long.

"I don't know. A while. I thought that if I slept it off the serum would kick in. I didn't know I was pregnant." 

He stumbles over a few of the words, biting his lip to keep from crying out from the onslaught of pain what felt like every two seconds.

Tony cuts in. "And you didn't think, not even once, that something might be wrong? Did it even occur to you that we have a medical floor, with a very well-paid staff who can diagnose these sort of things?"

The doctor shoots Tony a scathing look and Tony sighs, then mutters something under his breath. Something that Steve can't hear. Louder, Tony says, "Sorry."

It's half-hearted and it clearly sounds as if he is anything but sorry, but it doesn't seem to matter to the doctor and she focuses her attention on Steve once more.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. That's alright, Steve. Is it okay if I call you that?" she asks.

He nods, unable to speak.

She gives him a small smile.

"Okay then. Can you tell me more or less when you started to get the contractions? In terms of this evening or this afternoon, or -"

"Uh, this morning? I think. Right before I left for the mission," he says and she nods.

"Thank you, Steve. Now, I'm going to need to check a few things."

She stands up and grabs something that he can't see before returning.

"Steve, you need to change into this before I can perform the ultrasound. I need to check if everything is alright with both you and the baby. It's not the best time, since we'd usually do this before someone enters active labor, but it's all we can do at the moment," she says.

He takes the gown from her.

"Wait, but they're both okay, right? This is just a normal part of labor?" Tony asks.

The doctor turns to look at him.

"Yes, Mr. Stark, this is all just a normal part of being in labor, I'm afraid. I'm sure Steve and the baby are healthy, but as he went on a mission and he's in labor before the usual thirty-seven weeks, this is simply standard procedure. We have to perform an ultrasound, and then fetal heart monitoring."

"And fetal monitoring is what exactly?" Tony presses.

The doctor glances at Steve, then at Tony.

"Fetal heart monitoring is the act of monitoring the baby's heart rate and rhythm. We do this in the delivery room and it happens during labor. Usually it's done in conjunction with other tests, such as comparing the baby's heart rate with the rate of the mother's contractions. As I've said before, Mr. Stark. Your Captain and his baby are most likely fine, this is just standard procedure because he's entered labor before the preferred thirty-seven weeks, and because he's most likely experienced additional stress from the mission," she assures.

Tony nods.

The doctor glances at Steve, then picks up her clipboard and leaves, giving him some privacy so he can get changed into the hospital gown.

He struggles into an upright position, and Tony rushes to help him.

It's quiet between them, but he's not wanting to disturb the silence.

He's honestly in shock of the news. 

He's pregnant.

And the baby is Tony's.

Tony helps him take off his clothes and slip the gown on, a furrow between his brows.

He must be itching to say something, because the silence doesn't last long between them.

"Is it mine? The baby, I mean," Tony asks. He sounds slightly annoyed, a mixture of panic and something he can't quite place seeping into Tony's voice.

"What do you want me to say, Tony?" he snaps, "I haven't slept with anyone else but you. And I haven't thought about sleeping with anyone else since we broke up."

Tony takes a step back and he sighs.

"I'm sorry, I swear I didn't know, Tony. If I knew I was pregnant - that I could get pregnant, I would've told you. I didn't know and now -"

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. Sorry, I was just making sure. I mean, the dates match up and everything, I guess I just needed you to say that I was right," Tony says.

"Well, you're right. I'm pregnant with your child. And about to give birth, too." he says.

Tony chuckles slightly.

"Listen, I know we said things between us were over and -"

"Tony, not now. We'll talk about it later." Steve closes his eyes and tries to breathe slowly through the pain that starts to build up again.

"I -"

"Tony! Please!" he cries out, body seizing as another contraction hits.

Steve groans and doubles over, grabbing at Tony blindly for the sake of holding onto something to ground him as the contraction peaks.

"I know, I know. It'll be over soon, okay?" Tony soothes, rubbing his small circles on his back.

When the contraction seems as if it's beginning to taper off slowly, Tony helps guide him back to the bed.

As soon as he's back on the bed, Tony sits beside him, looking at him in concern. "Does it hurt that much?" Tony asked.

Steve nods, giving Tony a small, pained smile. "It hurts more than anything I've ever felt before." Steve's voice is hoarse, and the longer he sits on the bed he feels the exhaustion practically roll off himself in waves. The mission that he went on earlier and the added pain from the contractions did nothing to help.

The door to the room opens once more and the doctor comes in, a young nurse pushing a cart on her heels.

The doctor smiles at both of them, eyeing them from where they're sitting on the bed. Tony is quick to hop up, though, once the doctor is in the room and he stands vigil beside the bed that Steve is laying on, instead of sitting on the edge like he did earlier.

As much as he hates to admit it, he misses the heat from Tony's weight by his side, and a nasty voice in the back of his head reminds him that yes, this might be Tony's child that he was carrying and about to give birth to, but from Tony's words earlier, all that he would ever be to Tony was his Captain and "friend". Nothing more, nothing less.

"I hope it's okay with you, Captain, but I managed to find a nurse that was still on call. She's here to help set up the monitor, but will leave as soon as she's done," the doctor informs them.

At the mention, the young nurse looks up, smiling at them shyly. "Good evening, Captain, Mr Stark. I'm Nurse Hannah. Don't worry, as the doctor said, I'm just here to set up the monitor and then I'll be out of your hair soon," she said.

Tony quirks his lips up in a semblance of a smile, nodding at her once then looks at the doctor again.

"Okay, Doctor?" Tony pauses, then tilts his head to the side, "sorry, I just realized I don't know your name."

The doctor laughed, paying him no mind as she helped the nurse with the monitor.

"I'm Doctor Mikhailov, but you can just call me Doctor or Moira, whichever works for you."

"Okay! Doctor, you said that you were going to do a fetal monitor… check thing, right? Is that what this is for?" Tony asks, waving his hand in the direction to the monitor on the cart.

The doctor stands, facing them. Then she nods at the young nurse, dismissing her.

The nurse leaves the room and it's only when the door is closed does the doctor address them once more.

"That's right, yes. It doesn't do anything. It won't hurt at all. All that I need you to do is lift up your gown so that I can attach this band."

She holds up a black band that looks a bit like an oversized elastic band with velcro straps at each end. There are wires attached to the band that hook up to monitor.

"I - okay." He lifts the hospital gown up so that his upper waist and abdomen are exposed. He's extremely glad for the thin sheet that covers his lower half, feeling uncomfortable now that he had the doctor and Tony with him in the room. At least the doctor was easier to ignore, Tony, on the other hand, was not.

It's only because he was paying attention to the doctor and watching her facial expressions as she spoke that he managed to catch her concerned expression when she catches sight of his abdomen. 

His abdomen that is mottled with bruises in all shapes and sizes.

She shares a quick glance with Tony - another look that he manages to catch - and the two share a wordless conversation. Then the concern is wiped from her face. He supposes she's one of the doctors with better bedside manner, and he would've appreciated it any other time but right now.

So he can't help but feel slight panic at the quick look of concern that the doctor directed towards his stomach. 

He doesn't even have the time to ask her what's wrong, because then Tony cuts in, sounding angry.

"Jesus, Rogers. Did you just lay there and let every bad guy decide to lay into you? You're practically black and blue all over!" Tony snaps.

The Doctor - Moira - puts the band down on the bed besides him, then turns to Tony.

Steve can't see her facial expression because she's turned her back to him so that she could face Tony, but from the way he sees her straighten up, he can tell that she's just about had it with Tony.

Not that Steve can blame her, of course. He was getting tired of Tony, too. He was really tired of Tony snapping at him and questioning him when it really wasn't his place to. If this bothered Tony so much, then he could take the elevator upstairs to the penthouse and pretend that none of this was happening.

And Tony was really good at pretending that things didn't happen. Him ignoring the fact that they dated and carrying on as usual is a clear indication of that.

"Mr. Stark, I really don't care who you think you are, but this is my job. If you're going to cause my patient any more stress, then you can leave. I don't have the time, nor the patience to deal with your attitude and remarks. Do I make myself clear?" she asked.

Tony nodded, a look of defeat on his face. He took a couple of steps back, holding his hands in the air in a placating manner. "Sorry, I'll just stand to the side," Tony apologized.

The doctor stared at him a little longer, then turned her back on him.

Now that she was no longer chewing Tony out for sticking his nose in where it didn't belong and was now focusing all of her attention on him once more, he suddenly felt even more nervous, a lump forming at the back of his throat.

She didn't meet his gaze, eyes trained instead on his stomach area, more specifically, the bruises that were scattered all over his stomach. Her face was carefully blank, but that just served to make him even more nervous, and he clenched his hands into fists on either side of his body.

"Captain, sorry, Steve. Were these bruises caused during the mission?" she asked.

Steve nods, then realizes she isn't looking at his face and he clears his throat, then answers. "I - uh, yes, they were." His voice is hoarse.

Her head shoots up, and she looks at him, then back down towards his stomach. 

Steve realizes that he can feel the beginning of a contraction start in the pit of his abdomen, right beneath his belly button; the pain is starting to ramp up in small increments. He inhales, trying to brace for the pain that he knows is about to hit him soon.

The doctor notices this and reaches a hand out towards his stomach. "Can I touch you? I just want to check something. I assume you're experiencing a contraction?" She asks.

He nods, giving her a brittle smile. "Yeah, it's not quite as painful yet, but if it's anything like the ones I experienced earlier, it's going to feel worse soon."

The doctor gives him a sympathetic smile. "Sadly, I can't tell you that you're wrong. From here on out the contractions get worse. But it gets better later. In the end, it's all worth it, I promise. Then you'll feel as if none of this mattered, because then you finally get to hold your baby," she says. 

She reaches out towards his stomach, then presses lightly against the area below his belly button, moving her hand upwards and feeling for something that only she knows.

He hisses as she presses against one of the more painful bruises on his stomach, and she quickly retracts her hand, then moves it to another area.

The look on her face is thoughtful, like she's concentrating really hard on something.

When she straightens up and removes her hand from his stomach, he exhales, unaware of the fact that he's been holding in a breath the entire time. 

"So you're definitely in labor. This is good, which means we're one step closer to meeting baby." She sounds cheerful, and slightly excited. Steve, on the other hand, feels anything but. He feels the exact opposite. Nervous, scared, upset, confused. 

"Okay! So, I'll just wrap this band around your stomach, and it will monitor your contractions, as well as your baby's heartbeat and rhythm. Which is what I'm most concerned about. The data will be displayed on the monitor over here so that I can see what's going on," she explains to him and he feels as if he can breathe easier now that he knows exactly what is going to happen.

She does as she's explained, being extra gentle when wrapping the band around his stomach, mindful of his bruises, then gives him the okay to tuck his gown back down. Which he does, feeling better now that he wasn't on display anymore. Not in front of her, or Tony.

She does a few other things, but he's not paying attention to any of her movements. Instead, he's lost in thought; how did he manage to miss the fact that he was pregnant?

Steve knew that he wasn't able to fall pregnant, at least, not until now, but he always thought that because of all his illnesses and all the times he's fallen sick in the past that he was infertile. That's what all the doctors told him, and while he wasn't too upset when he'd just gotten that news, years later, when he and Tony had gotten together he couldn't help but feel sad that they wouldn't be able to have children together. In the end, it was something that he felt made him not worthy of being with Tony, and that just because he couldn't have children, Tony wouldn't want him. 

He doesn't know how true that was, because even if Tony had wanted children, and it was something they had brought up together once or twice, Tony had ended their relationship either way.

Steve thought that even though he had the serum, something like this wouldn't have been able to happen. Just because he had the serum, it didn't mean that his little problem of not being able to have children would suddenly be fixed.

He finds it extremely ironic now, that Tony is the one at his side while he goes through labor with their child. The one that he thought if he had would make Tony stay with him longer. 

Steve doesn't even realize that Doctor Mikhailov is gone. It's only when he sees movement in the corner of his eye that he blinks away the haze of memories from his past and he sees Tony straightening up from where he was slouched against the wall in the far corner of the hospital room.

Tony walks over to his side and settles into the hard plastic chair besides the bed.

They don't talk, and Steve doesn't make any move to initiate conversations between them, but Tony places his hand in his and squeezes gently.

Steve doesn't say anything, but Tony taking his hand offers much more comfort than any words Tony could've said.

*****

The contractions are so painful that Steve feels as if he's going to pass out, either from dizziness and lightheadedness, or from nausea. 

Steve turns on his side, batting Tony's hand away from him as he does and tries to breathe. He's getting annoyed with Tony's constant hovering and the way Tony seems to follow him with his eyes.

He'd already done a circuit of the room in the hopes that gravity will do its job and make the baby make its way into position, but all that it had done was make him even more exhausted. So he'd settled in bed once more and tried to relax, which was easier in theory but not so much in reality, especially when he was battling contractions every couple of minutes.

The doctor had come in twice to see how he was doing; the first time he'd been five centimetres and the urge to walk around seemed appealing. It didn't last very long. The second time he was seven centimetres and she'd walked in while he was having a contraction.

She'd just handed him a paper cup filled with ice chips and told him to breathe. He didn't say anything, not wanting to come across as rude to the only doctor that was currently helping him, but he really wanted to tell her that he was breathing and that nothing was helping. Everything hurt so, so badly.

All he wanted to do was sleep for a week and forget about the mission and especially about Tony and the baby he was about to give birth to.

It might sound dramatic and seem like a really horrible thing to say, but Steve can't help but wish that he never slept with Tony. Maybe then he wouldn't be in this situation that he finds himself in.

He's miserable and in pain and really, really exhausted. And yet he keeps on having to bite back scathing remarks and from crying out in pain every time a contraction hits. The night, now steadily approaching morning, seems never-ending.

"Come on, Cap. Just breathe, okay?" Tony says, grabbing hold of his right hand and squeezing in a show of support.

Not even a couple of minutes ago Steve was batting Tony's hand away and wishing Tony would just go away, but now he didn't want Tony to leave, holding onto the hand that was held out to him in support. It's a small comfort that he indulges in, knowing that Tony would leave as soon as the baby's born and he'd be left alone to care for their child, but he also feels a tiny bit angry at himself for allowing Tony to see him this weak. For allowing himself to accept Tony's comfort only to have it taken away again.

But there's nothing he can do, and he doesn't say anything. Not if he wants to have his words cut short on a scream of pain.

Instead, Steve utters a, "Can't," through gritted teeth.

The contraction is fierce, and he blinks back tears from his vision and gives a sharp intake of air, pulling his hands away from Tony's and instead fisting the thin hospital sheets as the contraction worsens.

Steve's back aches along with the contractions, odd twinges going along his spine and he shifts again, trying to find a better position in the bed.

Tony's still at Steve's side, and he mumbles words of encouragement and tells him to breathe through each contraction.

The doctor finds them like this when she comes back twenty minutes later; Tony half-lying, half-sitting on the hospital bed beside Steve, and Steve positioned against the pillows, his head on Tony's chest. The position is comfortable, and Tony's heartbeat beneath his ears gives him something to take his mind off the painful contractions that are coming on top of each other.

She smiles sympathetically towards Steve and Tony doesn't even move, just makes himself more comfortable on the bed. The position isn't so good for him, but he doesn't particularly care, especially since Steve was going through even more pain trying to give birth to his baby.

"How bad are they?" The doctor asks.

Steve moves away from him, a pained frown on his face. His eyes are closed and he's biting his lip.

"Shit! T-Tony… it hurts," Steve whimpers, unable to answer the question properly as he cries out in pain. 

Tony grabs his hand but Steve pulls away, gripping the sheets instead.

"I'll break your hand," Steve says. It sounds like he doesn't want to pull away, but has no choice, and now Tony can't help but feel as if Steve wouldn't break his hand.

Even when in pain, Steve was extremely aware of his own strength and the fact that he was stronger than Tony.

The doctor rushes forward, then sits down on the chair in front of Steve's legs.

"Do you mind if I check?" she asks.

Steve shakes his head and Tony looks away, feeling uncomfortable, but unwilling to leave the room.

He wanted to be with Steve. After all, this was his child.

Steve winces as the doctor performs the exam again, even though he'd become accustomed to the feeling, it still hurt.

She pulled away, a smile on her face.

"Good news. You're now fully dilated, Steve, which means on the next contraction I want you to push when you're ready, okay?" she says.

Steve feels himself start to panic, not nearly ready enough to give birth to their child, but it seems like their child was as stubborn as its parents and would be arriving soon.

"Mr. Stark, will you be staying in that position or standing beside Steve? I need you to know that Steve needs to be as comfortable as possible to make this easier for him, so if you need to move now is your chance."

Tony nods, then moves so that he can shift out from under Steve and stands next to the bed.

He grabs Steve's hand, then pushes a couple of strands of hair out of Steve's eyes, hating that Steve was in so much pain and he could do nothing but stand there and watch.

The contraction eases off and he falls back against the pillows that Tony had repositioned behind his head and huffs out a breath.

"This hurts worse than getting shot," he says and Tony chuckles. "I know, just relax. You're doing well," Tony says, encouraging.

"I have to agree with Mr. Stark, Steve. You are doing well," the doctor says. 

Steve shakes his head, disbelieving. "It doesn't feel like I'm doing well."

The resting period is over too soon, and when the next contraction comes he feels a mixture of dread and fear surge through him. The pressure that he felt earlier when his water broke all those hours ago in his apartment is nothing compared to the one he feels right now; this time instead of being focused on his pelvic area it's between his legs.

The doctor pats his thigh encouragingly, and he doesn't try to fight his body. 

Steve gives an experimental push and he feels the baby drop lower into his pelvis. "Shit!" Steve cries out.

"Don't fight it, Steve. I need you to push as long as you can, okay?" The doctor says.

He nods and groans through the contraction, bearing down and grunting from the strain.

Steve brings his chin to his chest and pushes, feeling as the baby makes its way further down.

"Good, Steve. You're almost there. I can see some hair."

Besides him, Tony is muttering wordless encouragement in his ear, a hand rubbing his shoulder.

Steve pushes again, unable to fight against his body's urges and whines through gritted teeth when his lower half starts burning.

"Tony! It - Ah!" Steve screams, his hand fumbling blindly for Tony's.

Tony takes it, wincing slightly when Steve squeezes it hard. Steve must realize that he's hurting Tony because he groans, releasing his grip on Tony's hand.

He pants heavily when the contraction comes to an end and he closes his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

"Steve, when the next contraction comes, I need you to try and push and hold it for the full ten seconds, okay? The head was nearly there," the doctor instructs.

He opens his eyes, nodding along. "Okay," Steve says, feeling a surge of determination coursing through him.

When the next contraction comes, he is by no means ready for it, but he tries to do as the doctor instructed.

Steve bears down with a grunt, feeling a burning sensation and it's unlike anything he's ever felt before. The pain is intolerable, and he screams, trying to push and hold it as the doctor said.

"Come on, Cap. Breathe," Tony instructs, leaning forward to brush the strands of hair out of Steve's face.

Steve feels hot tears prick at his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall and blinks rapidly.

"It hurts , Tony," he grits out.

The sigh that Tony lets out is sympathetic. "I know, Steve. Just focus on your breathing and push."

Steve ignores him, focusing on the task at hand and pushes again, frustration building when nothing happens.

"Nothing's happening!" He cries out, back arching in pain and he throws his head back against the pillows.

"No, no, carry on, Steve. I can see them. Just keep on pushing," the doctor says from between his legs.

Steve pushes, whining when he feels himself start to stretch even further. 

"Come on, Steve! I see the head! You're nearly there. Hold it, okay?" Doctor Mikhailov says.

He doesn't reply, trying to push and hold as long as he can.

The baby inches forward little by little and he can feel the burning increase. He breathes through it, eyes closed in concentration.

Steve screams again as his belly contracts, pushing as hard as he can and tries to follow the doctor's orders. The baby's head continues to inch it's way forward, and he feels himself stretch even further. He can hear the doctor's words of encouragement and Tony's muttered praises in his ear, and he focuses all of his energy on pushing.

Despite his efforts, he feels himself start to tire, and against his wishes, his body eases off, and the baby's head slips back slightly, much to his frustration.

"Fuck, I can't. This is - Ah!"

His body is drained and he's exhausted from the long, long labor. He's in a ton of pain and so far the end was nowhere in sight. He tried to push again, but his body rebels, fighting him. He throws his head back, squirming as he tries to fight the pain between his legs.

Tears of frustration and pain collect in his eyes and they make their way down his face, blurring his vision.

He just wants the pain to end. Was that too much to ask?

"T - Tony, I can't. I can't. It hurts too much," he cries.

Tony reaches out and wipes a stray tear away.

"Yes, you can. You can do it, okay? You're doing good. You got this, Steve," Tony assures, looking him in the eye.

Steve blinks away the blurriness in his vision and swallows against the lump of pain and frustration stuck in his throat. He nods his head and sucks in a deep breath before pushing again. 

His eyes widen when he feels the baby move again, this time a lot quicker than before.

"Oh god, I can -" he whimpers, bearing down again.

He hears Tony's words of encouragement and feels his hand on his shoulder and focuses on his task.

"You can feel it, huh? Baby's head is nearly out. I need you to push as hard as you can."

He listens to the doctor this time, tamping down on the fatigue that's creeping in around the edges and concentrates on bringing his baby into the world.

The only way to end this never-ending cycle of pain was to carry on pushing, after all.

The contraction eases off after what feels like an eternity, and he's given a small amount of time to catch his breath.

The doctor asks him if he wants to feel and his curiosity wins out; when his hand comes into contact with a hard mass that he knows is his baby, he can't help but feel himself start to tear up.

He was actually having a baby. A baby that he never thought he could have.

Even though it hurt, and he went through a ton of pain - from his terrible break-up with Tony to going through painful labor - just to get here, it was worth it if it meant he got to have this.

Feeling the child he was birthing is enough to spur him on, giving him enough determination not to give up.

When the contraction comes and his window to rest and catch his breath is over, he is more than ready, wasting no time in taking a breath and pushing.

Steve groans and leans forward, pushing as hard as he can. He knows his face is probably red from the strain and he can't help but cry out in pain each time he feels a contraction, but he refuses to give up. 

"Push gently, okay? When I tell you to stop, I need you to stop, or else you'll tear," the doctor orders.

Steve nods, pushing gently. When the doctor tells him to stop, he whines, turning to face Tony, and tries to ease off. It's harder than it seems and he can't help pushing even more.

Tony grips his hand, forgetting his strong grip and tells him to breathe and to slow down.

From Tony's close position, he can smell the cologne that Tony's wearing. It's the same one that he got Tony for his birthday when they were dating.

The smell reminds him that as soon as this was over Tony would once again disappear and ignore him, pretending that nothing ever happened between them.

He shifts away from Tony and pulls his hand out of Tony's, fisting the sheets.

The doctor gives him the okay to push and he listens, pushing again.

"Good! Steve, the shoulders are nearly out!"

He ignores the doctor, grunting and straining as he bears down, tired of this whole ordeal and just wanting everything to be over with.

"You're doing so well, Steve. You're almost there. Keep pushing," Tony murmurs.

He lets out another pained scream and Tony reaches for his hand again.

This time he allows it, accepting the comfort and support that Tony was offering.

"Come on, Steve! Push!" Tony encourages, tone excited.

Steve screams through it, giving one final push and the baby slips from his body.

"Congratulations! It's a girl!" The doctor informs.

Steve slumps against the pillows, tears of happiness streaming down his face. Beside him, Tony seems to be faring no better; he's practically glowing with happiness and pride, his eyes glistening with tears.

But then Steve realizes that something was very, very wrong.

His baby wasn't crying.

He feels a cold pit of despair open inside of him and he grows desperate.

Tony seems to realize it as well.

"Why isn't she crying?" he hears himself ask, panicked. "Doctor, why isn't my baby crying? What's wrong with her?" he questions hysterically.

He sits up, reaching towards his baby girl who lay silent in the doctor's arms.

The doctor ignored him, rubbing her clean with a towel, then called for a nurse.

"Nurse! I need you to see to it that her airways are cleared," the doctor ordered the nurse from earlier, handing Steve's baby over to her.

He watched helplessly, fearful, as his baby was taken away to a place he couldn't follow.

He didn't even get to hold her yet.

"Doctor, where is my daughter going? What's wrong with her? Why isn't she breathing?" Tony demanded. He sounded just as panicked as Steve did, and Steve was grateful that Tony was just as afraid as he was. They were in the same boat.

The doctor turned to them, giving them a reassuring smile that, unfortunately for her, did nothing to dissuade their worries.

"Nothing is wrong with her, Steve, Mr. Stark. It happens from time to time. Sometimes babies don't cry right away, and we just check them out to make sure it's nothing serious. Your daughter is in capable hands," she tells them gently, looking each of them in the eye.

Her words reassure them slightly better than her smile did, but only so much. 

Steve would feel better if he could hear his baby crying, and if he was holding her in his arms.

He did not just give birth to her only for something bad to happen.

Steve winces, putting a hand to his belly as he feels a contraction. This time it's not as painful as before and the doctor guides him through passing the afterbirth.

And then it's all over.

The doctor cleans him up as best she can, stitching him up where he tore and then she tells him to relax. That he'll see his baby soon.

He watches as the doctor leaves the room, wishing he could go with her so that he could see his baby, but he was confined to this room. Even if he could walk and move around freely, his entire body was aching too much. And he was exhausted from the long, painful hours that he spent in labor.

Tony hasn't left his side once, and now that it's just the two of them again, Tony sits down heavily in the chair besides his hospital bed, giving a tired sigh.

Steve ignores Tony's obvious presence, eyes fixated on the ceiling as he focuses on breathing; in and out and in and out. There's a lump in his throat and he keeps replaying the scene of his baby not crying.

What if she wasn't alright? What if something was wrong and the doctors couldn't do anything to help her? What then?

He swallows, and blinks, trying not to let his emotions flood over.

"How are you feeling?" Tony asks. His voice sounds hoarse, tired. The question comes out awkward, but it also sounds concerned.

He can't find it in himself to answer, but he dredges up some energy and replies.

"Fine."

Silence.

Then, "You're not fine, Cap."

Again with the 'Cap' story. He just gave birth to Tony's child and Tony couldn't even be bothered to use his name. Were they going to pretend that all of this didn't happen, either?

"It's not your fault. You heard what the doctor said. These things happen," Tony carried on.

He stayed silent, but now the tears were falling and he couldn't keep back the sob that he was trying to keep in.

And as soon as it started, it was like he suddenly couldn't stop.

Steve's frame shook as he cried silent tears, and Tony couldn't find it in himself to stay confined to the uncomfortable plastic chair besides the bed when Steve was in so much pain and feeling such guilt.

"It is my fault," Steve muttered bitterly, stumbling over his words as heart-broken sobs escaped his mouth, "What if she - she's -"

"Shh," Tony hushed, standing up and wrapping his arms around Steve's shoulders, holding him tightly in an embrace. "Don't say things like that."

Steve cried for some time, his tears soaking through the cotton of Tony's white shirt, and then he pulled away.

When Tony looked at him, his face was all red and swollen, and his blue eyes were dull and blood-shot.

"I'm sorry," Steve whispered, not meeting his gaze and fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket the nurse had sent in earlier.

"For what?" Tony asked. He was confused. Surely Steve didn't think he blamed him for their baby not being able to breathe properly?

"I'm sorry. I didn't know that I was - that I could - I swear I would've told you if I knew I was pregnant, Tony. And now… now it's my fault that she -"

"Steve," Tony cuts in.

Steve doesn't look at him.

"Steve," Tony says, voice stern.

Steve's head shoots up, a guilty look on his face.

"Don't be sorry, okay? Don't be. It's - it's. Well. I'm not going to say it's fine -"

A dark look crosses over Steve's face, and Tony watches as Steve's face falls. A number of other, indecipherable emotions pass over Steve's face so quickly that he can barely make them out.

"It's not fine," Tony repeats, "But it's also nothing to be sorry about. You told me that you couldn't fall pregnant, and I believe you. You seemed pretty shocked that you were pregnant earlier and I doubt anyone can fake not knowing something this big so well. The serum might've altered something, who knows? All that I know is that you shouldn't blame yourself, alright? I don't blame you for this, and neither should you," Tony said.

Steve looked at him, his blue eyes glistening with unshed tears and he nodded. 

"Good. I'm glad we understand one another. Now, why don't you try and get some sleep, okay? You just gave birth, and you came back from a mission. I'm sure you must be exhausted."

Steve was, but he didn't want to tell Tony that.

Instead, Steve shook his head, denying the need for sleep. "No. I want to be awake when she comes back," Steve said. 

Tony sighed.

"You can't stay awake so long. Remember, Moira said they need to do a bunch of tests. These things take time and you need the rest. I'll wake you if they come back with her," Tony says.

Steve looks unsure, mind wavering between the idea of falling asleep and the idea of waiting to hold his baby girl in his arms.

But Tony's offer was too good to pass up.

He was tired.

"Promise that you'll wake me if she comes?" he asks, sounding unsure, his voice oddly small.

"Promise," Tony assures and Steve nods.

Steve leans back, eyes falling shut as he finally gives in to the long-awaited sleep.

Tony sits in the chair beside Steve's bed for half an hour, alternating between worrying about his new daughter and between the churning thoughts inside his head.

He's listening to the steady intake of Steve's breathing and the rise and fall of his chest, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on Steve's hand as he sleeps when the silence of the room is disturbed as the door to their room opens and the nurse returns. This time with a tiny bundle in her arms.

He shakes Steve awake and Steve's eyes shoot open, glancing around the room.

Tony notices exactly when Steve sees their daughter, because Steve's eyes widen, then he's reaching out his arms towards their child.

The nurse walks over, handing the baby over to Steve and helping him adjust his arms so both he and the baby are comfortable, and then she's stepping back, telling them that she'll give them a moment of privacy.

Neither of them pay her much attention and she leaves the room.

Steve lets loose a choked sob, eyes flooding with tears when he holds his daughter for the first time. He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her head.

She's quiet, but her tiny fingers clench and unclench into tiny fists every couple of minutes.

Steve's head shoots up to look at him, a soft smile on his face. "She's perfect," he says, voice filled with such awe, "She's got your dark hair and eyes."

Tony stands up and moves to stand closer to Steve so he can see his daughter properly. When he does, his eyes tear up.

"She is perfect," he whispers, and Steve looks up at him, then glances back down at the baby in his arms.

Steve holds her in his arms for a while, then he passes her over to Tony. Neither of them can stop looking at her. She really is perfect.

It seems like they didn't even get five minutes to themselves when the door to their room opens again, and both of them look up to see both the doctor and the nurse standing there.

The doctor tells them that their baby has trouble breathing and that she'd like to keep her overnight. Really, she shouldn't even have let them hold her without them being moved to another room where they could monitor her properly, but because Steve was so distraught and their baby seemed okay enough to be moved, she let them see her for a while.

Steve, predictably, doesn't take the news very well. Neither does Tony, but he's better at hiding his feelings and tries to keep a brave face for Steve.

It's not as if they won't get to take their daughter home for a long time, it was just overnight, and then they could take her home.

This time it's easier for Steve to fall asleep and Tony doesn't have to convince him to rest.  

For Tony, however, it's difficult. His mind is racing.

He sits still for five minutes, simply watching Steve sleep and watching for any signs of distress. When there are none he decides to pull out his phone and skim through emails from work. That doesn't keep his mind from wandering and he taps his feet on the linoleum. It lasts for another five minutes before he gets up, glancing at Steve to check if he distrubed him before he's opening the door and slipping out to stand outside.

He walks a little ways down the hallway, close enough so he was close by if Steve needed him but also far enough so Steve wouldn't be able to overhear his conversation.

He pulls out his phone and presses dial, biting his lip as he listens to the dial tone and waiting for someone to pick up.

A click and then, "Tony? Do you know what the time is?" Pepper's sleepy voice can be heard over the line.

He winces slightly. He forgot that it was the middle of the night in California.

"Yeah, sorry, Pep. Anyway, I was thinking that I need to update my will. You know, in case I have any kids. Because I just realized that I didn't update it in some time and these things need to be put into consideration," he rambles.

Silence.

"Tony, did you phone me in the middle of the night just to talk about your will? Are you drunk?" Pepper asks, sounding annoyed. And then she gasps. "Are you dying? I swear to God, Tony, if you are dying and this is your way of telling me -"

"No, no, no!" He rushes to say, "Pep, I'm not dying. Promise. I learnt from last time."

"Good. Because you should know that if you are dying I will find a way to bring you back to life so that I can kill you myself," Pepper stated.

"I know you will, Pepper-Pot. Now, about my will. I was thinking, we can hand the company over to them. Stark Industries needs an heir. Inform my lawyers, okay?" he said.

Pepper was silent, and he could practically see her squinting at him in confusion.

"Tony, are you - are you indirectly telling me that you have a child? You know, I don't know why I even bother anymore! If you're just going to go around and not bother putting a condom on, I don't see why I have to put up with all these accusations of you being the father of someone's child. You should be the one dealing with this yourself. I don't get paid nearly enough to deal with you. Who is it this time? Is it that reporter from that magazine?" Pepper questioned.

"Huh? What reporter? No! Pepper, I didn't even sleep with her. And no, it's not like that, okay? Well, it kinda is like that, but it's not bad. Just - okay, I have a daughter," he blurted.

The silence was deafening.

"I'm sorry. Did I hear that right? Did I just hear you say you have a daughter? As in, a living, breathing child?" Pepper questioned.

"Yes, Pepper. That's the definition of human. We live and we breathe, isn't that wonderful? I have a daughter, you heard that right."

"Since when?" Pepper shrieked.

He winced, pulling his phone away from his ear and letting Pepper have a couple of seconds to get it out of her system.

"Anthony Edward Stark, I swear to God - What? Honestly, Tony. When did you find this out?" Pepper asked, now fully awake.

"Uh, actually, as of an hour ago," he said.

"I'll get the NDA's ready. Just - try not to do anything else stupid before I sort this out. I can't believe you were stupid enough to -"

"Pep, Pepper, you don't need to do anything -"

"What? Why? Do you know how damaging this could be for your -"

"Pepper, the baby is mine and Steve's."

"What? As in Captain America Steve Rogers? That Steve?" she asks. 

He sighs. "Yes, Pep. Do we know of any other Steve?" He scrubs a hand over his face, feeling exhausted.

"Oh my god. This is - Wow. Is he okay? Are you okay?" she asked, sounding concerned.

He chuckled bitterly. "Wow, okay. I see how it is."

"Shut up, Tony. Are you - I mean, I can't imagine this was easy for him. You guys broke up. And he didn't tell you about the baby?" she asked.

He swallowed. "No, I - uh, he didn't know he was pregnant. As far as he knew, he couldn't get pregnant. The doctors always told him that."

Pepper made a sympathetic noise. "Okay. I'll place an order for some baby clothes and the basics. Oh, and a crib. I'll have it delivered to the penthouse. I'll see you soon. I'll try to get the earliest flight back but you know how it is," she said. 

"What? Pep, you don't need to fly over. I know how busy you are," he protested.

"Stop. You're my friend. I'll be over soon, okay?" she said. He could hear the sound of her tapping away at her laptop in the background and felt grateful for her help.

He was more than relieved that Pepper had decided to pick up the call, despite the late hour.

"Did you tell the team yet?" she asks and he groans, facepalming. He totally forgot to inform the team. Although, he did have an excuse for not telling them. He did just leave the room. Steve and their baby were more important right now.

"I'll take that as a no, then. Don't worry. Try to get some sleep. I'll tell them," Pepper said.

"Thank you, Pep. You're a star," he said.

Pepper laughed. "Thank me later, Tony. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he greeted. The line clicked and he turned his phone on silent.

When he stepped into the room, Steve was still asleep. This time, a slight frown was on his face and his hand was outstretched across the expanse of the bed, almost as if he were looking for something.

He can't help the fond smile that teases at his lips, and he gently moves his hand through Steve's hair, brushing the blond strands back. It's only as he's leaning down to press a kiss to Steve's forehead does he realize what he's doing and he freezes, then moves away. 

He settles into the chair and grabs Steve's hand, rubbing his thumb in little circles on the inside of Steve's palm.

In less than five minutes, he falls asleep, the day's activities finally catching up with him.

Chapter Text

The room is dark when Tony wakes up, and he's extremely glad for the blinds that block out the light of day. He's pretty sure that it's early morning, but with the lack of light, it's hard to distinguish exactly what time it is. 

He checks on Steve and finds that the blond is still sleeping peacefully. He moves quietly out of the plastic chair, wincing when his back and neck spasms slightly from the awkward position he'd slept in during the night. He really was getting too old to fall asleep just about anywhere.

He knows how exhausted Steve must be, especially after the grueling labor, then having to deal with the fact that their daughter wasn't breathing properly. It was enough to put stress on anyone else, and coupled with the fact that Tony knows Steve didn't even have a chance to hit the sack after the mission and was in labor for most of the day, it's understandable that he'd be asleep for some time still.

He leaves the room, shutting the door behind him, and only checks the time on his phone when he's safely out of the room where the blue light of the screen can't disturb Steve's sleep.

It's seven in the morning.

The medical floor is just starting to wake up, a few staff members milling about. 

Tony takes the elevator and rides up to the penthouse, planning on taking a quick shower to refresh himself and then grabbing some coffee. Maybe a breakfast muffin if he felt like it.

The shower works wonders on his aching neck and back, not that he notices it. His thoughts are stuck on Steve and his daughter. His daughter. He has a child now. A living, breathing person that will depend on him.

He rushes through the motions of cleaning himself, then he towels himself dry and grabs any clothing from his closet that looks comfortable.

Tony dresses quickly, running a hand through his wet hair and winces when he realizes that his hair will dry in its natural curls, simply because he was too lazy to brush it out properly. Which, since he had forgone getting a haircut two weeks ago, was going to be even more of a nightmare. But he doesn't care about that; he's rushing to get back to the medical floor so that he can be there when Steve wakes up.

He's pretty sure that the super-soldier would wake soon, and he wanted to be there so that Steve wouldn't immediately think the worst; that he wasn't interested in their daughter or that he simply didn't care enough to stay. 

Either way, if he were in Steve's shoes he'd think the same thing. And who knows, maybe the blond already thought that.

The smell of strong coffee permeating the air is enough to lead him to the kitchen where FRIDAY had already started the machine for him.

It's as he's drinking from the cup and trying not to burn his tongue as he takes big gulps in his haste to get back down to the medical floor that he realizes that the brew was one that Steve introduced him to.

It was a Moroccan blend, one that Steve discovered while on a mission and had brought back home. They'd tried it and surprisingly, Tony liked it, and whenever the blend was coming to the last little bit, Tony had it imported. 

The taste brings back memories of evenings spent in the kitchen, back when they were dating and they would settle anywhere so long as the other was next to them or in the near vicinity.

He wants to hide the bag in the far corner of the kitchen cabinet, somewhere where he can't find it. 

He knows for a fact that that is where the blend was hidden; he hadn't touched this particular blend in a while (since he and Steve broke up) and the last time he'd had it was precisely seven months ago, back when he and Steve were still dating and blissfully unaware of the near future. Tony still remembers the exact thing they were doing that night; they were settled on the sofa in front of the penthouse television with the lights turned down low, cuddling together and holding steaming mugs of coffee. He can't remember what movie was playing, just that it was some mindless series on Netflix that didn't require much effort to catch up on if a few scenes or episodes were missed, and that he and Steve were far more interested in the other than the actual show.

He can't help but think that that was where things had started to go wrong for them, that they had depended too much on each other. More importantly, it was the point in time where he realized that he was too dependent on Steve, and that although he loved the blond and would do anything for him, the fact that Steve - their relationship - had that much power over him was debilitating. It terrified him.

So the fact that the blend had been brewed by FRIDAY, and was just sitting innocently on the countertop showed that someone - Tony has a feeling that one of the kitchen staff members had placed it out in the open for ease of access, since they pretty much knew his antics by now - had left it out.

The trip down memory lane only serves to remind Tony of the fact that while he's sipping coffee from the comfort of his penthouse, Steve is still very much stuck downstairs in medical.

The thought is enough to spur him on and he gulps down the last few mouthfuls of coffee, hissing as it burns his tongue, and he rushes to grab his cellphone and heads to the penthouse elevator.

When he reaches the medical floor, it's busier than it was earlier, but not overly so; there is more medical staff walking around, and he could see a few men and women dressed in business attire, which made him put them into the 'employee of Stark Industries' category, and not 'family who were visiting patients' category.

He nodded at the receptionist, and when she sent him a beaming smile and a nod in return he was off. He headed down the hallway leading to the maternity ward, passing a couple of rooms until he reached Steve's private room, and then he knocked, waiting a couple of seconds before sticking his head in.

When he saw Steve sitting up in bed, he smiled, entering the room and closed the door behind him.

Steve looked good, well, as good as someone who just gave birth could look. Apparently, he'd manage to take a shower, because Tony could see that the blond's hair was wet and he looked refreshed.

He still looked tired and there were circles under his eyes, making them look bruised. He supposed Steve would look tired for a while, he did just go through a traumatic birth, one that he wasn't even aware he could have.

Steve's pallor was pale, far too pale for his liking, really, but Tony didn't think anything was wrong with him. 

"Good morning. I wasn't sure if you would be up yet. How did you sleep?" he asked, gauging Steve's expression.

Steve sent him a smile. "Good morning, Tony," he greeted, "I slept well. And you? You aren't stiff from sleeping in that chair? I know it couldn't have been all too comfortable for you. You could've gone back to the penthouse to sleep, you know, I would've been fine."

Tony huffed, rolling his eyes. "Shhh! None of that, blondie. I wanted to be here. I slept fine, so stop stressing. Has the doctor been yet?" he asked.

Steve shook his head. "No, a nurse. Nurse… Hannah? Yeah, she was here. Although I think Doctor Mikhailov should be here soon."

Tony nodded. "Ah. Okay. And how are you feeling? Tired? Sore?"

Steve nodded. "I'm exhausted. And..." the blond trailed off, a slight flush on his face.

Tony arched a brow. "And?" he pressed.

"I'm still sore. My entire body is achy. I never thought it possible, but apparently, it is." Steve said.

Tony made a noise of sympathy. "That's normal, though. You'll be sore for a bit, but hopefully, the serum will kick in soon and you'll be back to normal in no time."

He'd done the reading, well, he got FRIDAY to read it out to him while in the shower, but it still counted as him doing research. Whatever Steve was feeling and going through was normal. All people who just gave birth felt this way, some had it worse than others. So yes, at least he could tell Steve this. That whatever he was going through was normal and was okay.

Although he had no doubt that Doctor Mikhailov would say the same thing whenever she popped in for a check-up, just using better terms.

Steve nodded, a tiny smile on his face. 

He watched as the blond bowed his head, playing with his fingers that were laid in his lap.

The silence stretched between them, and for a while, neither of them made any move to say anything or to ask any more awkward questions.

Tony frowned at how quiet Steve had gotten, sensing that something was wrong; Steve was too quiet, too still. He was slumped over, almost as if he were defeated, and he wouldn't look in Tony's direction, his head was tilted in the direction of the window overlooking the city.

He knew that something was bothering Steve, had a very good feeling that he knew what it was too, but receiving confirmation from the man would make him feel better.

That way he could work with what he had.

All he needed to do was approach with caution. If he pressed too much, Steve would shut down, get defensive, or he would simply just purse his lips and stay silent. If he tried to make light of the situation, say, by being too snarky or sarcastic or saying things in a joking manner, Steve might take things the wrong way and accuse him of being incapable of being mature enough to deal with being there. He would probably try to chase him away.

Which is something that Tony didn't want.

"Steve?" he called the blond, hoping that Steve would look him in the eye.

He thanks god or whoever decided to answer his prayers when Steve turns his head, glancing at him.

"Yeah, Tony?"

"Talk to me. What's going on? I can tell something's bothering you."

It's because he's watching Steve that he sees the way Steve closes his eyes tightly and the way that Steve's entire face twists into a look of sadness.

When Steve's eyes open, he gives Tony a pained smile.

"Nothing's wrong, Tony."

"I call bullshit. Alright? Listen, I know that things aren't the best right now, that this is less than ideal and was totally something we didn't plan, but I'd like to think that after spending some time together -" he refused to say dating. That was part of the 'no territory' section in the talking department. "-that you aren't fine. Give me a little credit, here, Steve. Don't insult me, I can tell when something's wrong. And I'd like to help."

Okay, so this was out of his comfort zone, and he was doing that thing where he spoke too fast and rambled, but he'd like to think that he'd made his intentions - and his point - very clear. 

Whether he was uncomfortable or not, this wasn't something they'd planned for, and this was Steve.

And Steve, despite his words, was not okay. 

He was so not fine, even Tony could pick up on it.

And yes, maybe it was because Steve had this bad habit of playing with his fingers whenever he was nervous or worried or anxious, and it had just been something that Tony had picked up during their relationship - and found rather adorable, really. Steve was usually so confident that seeing him do something like that was like witnessing a rare moment - but this was also Steve.

And Tony's greatest weakness, other than his penchant for self-sabotage, was - is - Steve.

He would do anything for Steve.

Steve's sad? Make him smile. Steve wants to see an art exhibition? Buy tickets and clear out an entire museum. Steve's angry? Make a joke to make him bring out that smile of his that says 'I'm mad at you so I shouldn't be laughing but I can't help myself'.

And yeah, sure, they ended things between him, but those things still stood; Tony would still do anything for Steve.

He searched Steve's face for any sign that there'd been a breakthrough, that somehow, something he said had made it through to the blond.

And one second Steve's sitting there in the hospital bed that in all honesty should probably be a tight fit for his frame, but at the moment seems to make him smaller than he really is, more vulnerable, and the next he can see Steve's facade crack and his face crumble.

It's like a dam had suddenly broken and all of Steve's worry and sadness and pain was too strong and Tony's words had been his breaking point because Steve just… lets go.

"I should've known about her. I should've guessed that something was wrong, that my body changed. Who doesn't notice that, Tony? And now… God, I'm so, so sorry. All I can do is apologize, but sorry isn't going to fix anything, is it? It's not going to fix the fact that our - that our daughter isn't - I'm sorry. Tony, I'm so sorry . I -"

Steve's eyes were red and sad when he connected them with Tony's.

Tony moves further into the room, moving closer to the bed until he's less than a foot away. And then he decides 'fuck it' and sits on the edge closest to Steve.

He hates seeing Steve like this; Steve never cried, ever. Last night and today were the most he's ever seen Steve cry, and both times they were for things that were out of Steve's control, yet things that he held himself accountable for.

Yes, their daughter was being held back because she couldn't breathe properly. Was it Steve's fault? No. This was out of his hands.

So seeing Steve all broken up and a sobbing mess was something that made some part of him want to grab Steve into his arms and shield him from whatever was hurting him. He wanted to protect Steve.

Except, he couldn't exactly protect and shield Steve from his own head, could he? 

"Hey, hey, hey. Shh. Steve, look at me. Okay? Look at me. I want you to listen very carefully. It's okay. I don't blame you. And you shouldn't blame yourself either, alright? I want you to answer something for me," Tony said and Steve nodded quickly.

Tony reached forward and thumbed a rolling tear away, looking Steve in the eyes. He knew that Steve blamed himself, and if there's something that Steve shouldn't be doing right now, it's blaming himself.

"If you knew that you were pregnant, if you had any idea that you were pregnant, or if you suspected you were pregnant, would you still go on that mission?" he asked. He knew what Steve's answer would be.

Judging from the look of horror on Steve's face, he was right, too.

"No! I - Tony, how could you even think that? I would never - I wouldn't hurt our daughter. Ever," Steve sounded so sure, so horrified of the prospect of doing something to intentionally hurt their daughter, that Tony couldn't help but pull him a little closer.

And if he benefited from the close contact as well, if the familiar smell of Steve and the heat that radiated from Steve's body was a balm that soothed him like no other, he wasn't about to deny himself that little pleasure.

Steve allows Tony to comfort him, even leans into the touch like a man drowning. And he doesn't say anything about it, doesn't want Steve to pull away and pretend that he's fine when he so clearly is anything but.

So he stays silent and lets Steve process things. Allows Steve to see that he really is staying. For good. Nothing, not even Steve's half-hearted attempts at pushing him away will make him stay away from his precious daughter and the bright future she holds the key to. 

And when Steve finally pulls away from him, not fully, but a mere couple of inches away just so that he could look him in the eye, Tony allows that, too.

Seeing Steve like this is strange, rare. But he knows that beyond Steve's confident persona and the way he holds himself, he's the type of person to hold his heart on his sleeve. He's shy and insecure. And this situation seemed to bring all of the qualities that Steve tried to hide out into the light.

"Do you really believe that? I still hurt our daughter, Tony. And she's here because I was reckless and I didn't even take care of her. A parent is supposed to look after their child, aren't they? And now she's here. Because of me. Because I didn't think and I went on that mission," Steve whispered, breaking away from the intense gaze he'd shared with Tony.

Steve's turned away from him, probably so that Tony couldn't see the inner turmoil that's shown so clearly on his face, but he's still too close to Tony for Tony not to see his facial expressions properly. 

So he sees the way more tears spill from Steve's eyes and roll down his face before Steve wipes them away quickly.

His heart aches seeing Steve like this, especially when his efforts at reassuring Steve that this wasn't his fault was failing drastically.

He pulls Steve impossibly closer to him, squeezing the blond's shoulder in a show of support, rubbing gently.

Steve's pliant in his hold, and seems to accept the comfort he offers; he's slumped in a semblance of an exhausted heap, his head laying low over Tony's chest, listening to the thump-thump of Tony's heartbeat.

It's always been something that Steve's done whenever he was troubled or feeling overwhelmed and the sound of Tony's heartbeat beneath his ears was a way to calm him down from whatever state he was currently in.

Tony keeps on rubbing soothing circles on Steve's back, allowing him to calm down slowly and at his own pace.

When he deems Steve relatively calm and able to listen, he speaks.

"Steve, listen. It's okay. Yes, it sucks that our daughter is here -"

"I did that. I caused this," Steve interrupts.

Tony raises an eyebrow, and Steve quiets, settling down once more.

"Hush. Let me finish. As I was saying, yes, it sucks that our daughter needs to stay an extra night when we get to go home, but you didn't know. You didn't know you could even fall pregnant, that this was possible. But soon she'll be able to come home. None of this was planned, and absolutely none of this is your fault. Do you believe me now?"

Steve nods tentatively, biting on his bottom lip unsurely.

It's not the best answer, but it's a step up from having Steve cry. At least he's calm and has stopped saying things that weren't true. Things like 'this is my fault'. If Steve said that one more time… Well, Tony was really close to losing it himself, actually. Because how could Steve even blame himself for something like this? He didn't hurt their daughter. Sometimes babies are simply born and they can't breathe properly. It's normal.

Tony cracks a tiny grin, hugging Steve to him.

Surprisingly, Steve participates and wraps his arms around Tony's waist.

The position isn't one that's comfortable, for either of them, and since he's no longer young and can sit all tangled up and at awkward angles, and Steve was still healing, it wasn't really ideal, but Steve wasn't crying anymore, and he seemed much better.

There was also the little voice In the back of Tony's mind that reminded him that the position they were currently in was one they've been in multiple times; they used to cuddle a lot when they were dating, either in bed while one was reading or watching tv or on one of the many luxury sofas scattered about the penthouse floor.

Really, they were always together.

And sitting like this, touching skin to skin and being able to feel and share each other's body heat is the closest they've been since they've broken up beyond brief touches when handing over mission briefings or brushing up against each other in passing.

And… Tony missed it.

The whole touching thing. The close contact. He never realized how much he missed being warm. Or the fact that he was cold for so long that being warm was strange for him. Steve was warm. 

He cleared his throat.

Right.

They weren't together anymore. Mutual break-up and all.

And how could he even think of that? What horrible person thought of things like that? Steve was in pain. Steve needed him. And he wanted to comfort Steve. It was wrong to try and take advantage of the blond when he wasn't behaving like his usual self, when he was in this vulnerable state.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah, Tony?"

"Do you want me to go check if I can find Doctor Mikhailov? I can ask her if you're allowed to see the baby," he said.

Steve's eyes widened slightly in realization, and then he nodded.

"Yes. Please. I'd like that."

He smiled, squeezing one of Steve's hands in his own, then extracted himself from Steve's grip, standing up.

"Great. I'll just pop out for a minute and then I'll be back soon, okay?" he told Steve.

Steve sent him a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Tony."

"Don't worry about it."

***

Finding Doctor Mikhailov was surprisingly easy.

He'd barely walked five steps when he saw her walking down the hallway, apparently already on her way to Steve's room.

She sees him immediately, sending a nod in greeting. He waits for her, and then they walk back to Steve's room together, side by side.

"Good morning, Mr. Stark. I take it you were visiting Steve? I hope you weren't riling my patient up again," she says, glancing at him for a couple of seconds and then turns away to greet a nurse that tells her good morning. Although this time, he can hear a teasing lilt to her voice, and not an accusatory one.

At least she wasn't scolding him. Which was a massive step up from last night, if he remembered correctly.

He grinned. "Okay, firstly, it's Tony. Not Mr. Stark. I know you don't care about the whole formality thing like everyone else does so why are you still calling me Mr. Stark? I didn't peg you as one of the sucking up to the boss type of people. And secondly, yes, I was visiting Cap. No, I did not rile him up, thank you very much. We had a very civil conversation."

She raised an eyebrow at him. 

Okay, so she was a little like Pepper. Not amused by his jokes, or his charming attitude. He could work with that. Sort've.

"Alright, Tony. Thank you for not bothering my patient. He needs his rest, and with you added in the mix that's highly impossible. I doubt you had a… What was it that you called it? Oh, right. A civil conversation. Maybe a slightly stilted one, of course, but I'll take what I can get. So long as my patient is calm and he isn't in a state, I can tolerate your presence."

Tony gaped, then realized she was messing with him.

"You - What? You're not supposed to talk to the person who pays your salary like this! Blasphemy! I will not stand for it," he whined.

Her lips quirked up slightly and he resisted the urge to smile.

"I thought you said that you never 'pegged me as one of the people who sucked up to their boss' type people. I'm just proving your theory correct," she sniffed.

Tony laughed and she joined him not long after.

He never realized how good it was to laugh and let himself go after dealing with everything that happened last night. It felt like he'd been walking on eggshells the entire time, too afraid to say or do the wrong thing. Laughing was freeing, and he felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

If this was how he was feeling, just after being a support system without even doing anything to help, imagine how Steve was feeling after actually doing all the hard work.

The thought was sobering and he stopped laughing. Doctor Mikhailov must've sensed the shift in his mood because she looked at him in concern.

She didn't ask him what was wrong, or if something was wrong, but he felt as if he needed to tell her what was going on.

Tony wasn't one for explaining his feelings, or even accepting the fact that he had and experienced feelings like a normal human being. For him, it was easier if he suppressed them and ignored their existence. It was mainly due to past experiences - ones he wasn't prepared to delve into - but something about the way Doctor Mikhailov looked at him, as if he wasn't 'Mr. Anthony Edward Stark: CEO of Fortune 500 company, Stark Industries' but rather plain, old Tony Stark. Just a guy who messed around with cars in his free time and preferred talking to his 'bots than to people. A regular guy with problems like everyone else.

So he told her everything.

" - and that's why I'm out here. I was about to look for you to ask if Steve would be allowed to see the baby. He's, well, he's doing a lot better than last night, but then again, he kinda did push out a fully formed human without even knowing of its existence in the first place, so there's that. So? What do you say, Doc? Is it okay for Steve to visit the baby?" he asked. He was rambling, but this was…

He had no idea what this was.

Past experiences hadn't prepared him for something like this to happen. And yet, he was fully prepared to be there one hundred percent for his baby. And he was more than ready to help Steve with whatever he needs or might need.

He had to be, seeing as he had contributed to the problem. Not that it was a problem, more of an… unplanned adventure that started last night and will last for the next eighteen years.

Doctor Mikhailov hums thoughtfully, then turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised.

"And how are you doing? Sure, Captain Rogers, sorry, Steve, isn't completely better. In both mental and physical aspects, but I have yet to hear how you yourself are coping. I understand that this is new territory and it can be difficult to navigate, so how are you feeling?" she asks.

Her voice is gentle, and the question wasn't interrogatory or probing, but sounded rather curious. And she sounded genuinely concerned.

Which was something that he didn't need.

Steve was the one who suffered. 

And who will only continue to suffer, seeing as they weren't together anymore and now had to parent a daughter that they had together.

So he shakes his head and huffs out a laugh.

"I'm great, doc. Although, something tells me the only thing that won't be great is my sleep schedule for the next couple of years. Good thing I don't sleep much. Means I don't miss out on much sleep. Huh, everyone always told me I needed to sleep more. They never wanted to believe me when I said I don't need it. Guess I was right," he murmurs the last part to himself, almost thoughtfully.

Doctor Mikhailov gives a disbelieving laugh.

"You're crazy, you know that? But something tells me you're used to people telling you that. As for Steve, I was just about to head to his room. I'm sure it would be alright for him to visit the baby. I'm sure he'd feel better when he gets to hold her. Well, longer than he did last night. I'd like to do a quick check-up to see if everything's healing up as it should be, but hopefully, Steve will be discharged tomorrow."

Tony grinned. "I'm sure Cap will be pleased when he hears the news."

Doctor Mikhailov gave him a look of sympathy and they carried on walking in silence.

***

Steve, as predicted, is relieved at the good news.

And for Tony, just seeing Steve genuinely happy at the news that he gets to visit his daughter and to hold her is enough to make him smile.

Doctor Mikhailov allows Steve to visit their daughter on the condition that he uses a wheelchair. She performed the routine checkup - Tony had left the room to give them privacy - and had stated that the serum wasn't healing at its usual rate. Which wasn't something she was too worried about, seeing as Steve's body had gone through the process of housing a baby he wasn't aware of and had had to work twice as hard seeing as Steve hadn't exactly done everything he would need to if he had known he was pregnant. And then there was the actual birth. On top of tearing slightly, Steve had also lost a lot of blood, which explains his pallor and how he still seemed so exhausted.

But Steve doesn't let the doctor's orders slow him down. Usually, he'd protest against something like that, saying that he was fine and that he could walk and that they should save the wheelchair for someone who really needed it. And for Tony, witnessing Steve give in so easily, it's a testimony for how much Steve must still be in pain.

The doctor had also left strict instructions for Tony to help Steve. When she'd done that Steve had looked unhappy, but didn't protest too much.

And really, it's not like he needed the doctor to tell him that he needed to help Steve.

He wanted to help Steve anyway.

He'd had his part in the whole ordeal, so he shouldn't leave Steve to fend for himself.

And if it meant that he had to get cans of pain-relieving spray or ice packs or even some of the pills he and Bruce had worked on to help when the pain Steve was in was too much for him to handle, then he would do it.

And this was only for while he was staying on the medical floor. When Steve finally left - and their baby was with them - there would be late-night diaper changes and feeding times as well. 

Steve wouldn't do this alone.

Tony had promised himself that he would be the best father he could possibly be to his daughter. And yes, she was unplanned, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be loved or cared for. In fact, he loved her the moment he first laid eyes on her.

So he helps Steve into the wheelchair.

It takes slightly longer than it usually would to get them moving, especially with Steve moving slower because of the pain he was in.

Tony doesn't rush him and waits until Steve's lowered himself gingerly into the chair.

"You alright? Comfy?" he asks.

Steve nods, a pained wince on his face. "Yeah, I'm good."

He stares for a couple of seconds, and then decides against saying anything. 

Tony thought that he had a hard time watching Steve. Just… in general. It was a problem for him right after they'd broken up. Half the time he found himself staring at Steve whenever the blond wasn't looking at him and then he'd catch himself, internally having to remind himself that he and Steve weren't together anymore and that Steve didn't belong to him. It got easier over time, after he started to spend more time at the company and attend more meetings that required him to fly to another country.

He didn't realize that his resolve was so weak when Steve was involved.

But now, seeing Steve hold their daughter was, well, the sight was breathtaking, for lack of better words.

Steve glowed.

And really, Tony was dumbstruck. Steve looked so happy and content. It was almost as if Steve was meant to have this.

Sure, Steve looked downright nervous and Tony could just about make out the telltale signs of Steve's guilt when the young nurse - Nurse Hannah, Tony remembered her name - handed their tiny baby to Steve to hold.

He suspects the sight of various wires that are connected to their daughter only added to Steve's nerves, but then their daughter is being placed into his waiting arms, and Steve just… calms down.

And Tony can't help the curiosity that takes over; he walks over and stands beside the chair that Steve's sitting in. 

The wheelchair was lying abandoned near the doorway, waiting for when Steve had to return to his room.

The nurse adjusts Steve's grip on the baby, and then leaves with a smile, moving further into the room to give them a semblance of privacy.

Neither of them has anything to say, both enthralled at the sight of their daughter. 

"She's so tiny," Steve whispers, voice full of awe as he trails a gentle finger across her cheek. She leans into the touch and Tony sees the way Steve's eyes light up.

Then Steve's looking at Tony, and Tony can't contain the smile that threatens to emerge.

He puts his hand on Steve's shoulder and leans down to look at her properly. "She's ours," he says, and Steve nods. "Yeah, she is."

As far as the baby's resemblance to her parents, she seems to have inherited the Stark genes; she's got a dark head full of hair - which Tony knows from the research he's done that it will start to fall out and thin before growing back in again - and brown eyes.

However, she inherited Steve's pouty lips. Which is something that will make it all the more harder for Tony to say no to in the future whenever she asks for something.

All too soon the peace is disrupted when their daughter whimpers in Steve's hold. 

Steve tries to shush her, rocking her gently but it doesn't work and her whimpers get louder. 

He can tell that Steve's panicking, and he's ready to try to get her to stop but then the nurse is at Steve's side and instructing him to open his gown enough to expose his chest. The nurse hands Steve the baby once more and helps him adjust his hold so that the baby is placed over him.

"Sometimes, they just want to be close to you. Skin-to-skin contact is good for both you and the baby. It helps strengthen the bond between the two of you," she explains.

Steve nods his head, but he only has eyes for the baby in his arms.

She's stopped whimpering now, and Steve huffs out a slight laugh when she lets out a sigh of content, a tiny yawn escaping her equally tiny mouth.

The sight of the wires that are connected to his daughter makes Steve even more scared to hold her closer than before, but holding her in his arms, against his skin is soothing. It feels natural, familiar.

The nurse hovers in the background, and when Steve looks up he can see her watching with a smile on her face.

He's quick to look down again, not wanting to miss anything now that his daughter is in his arms.

Tony is more than happy to stand and watch Steve and his daughter. There's a warm, unfamiliar feeling spreading throughout his body, but he's not worried about it. Instead, he basks in the feeling.

The nurse steps forward once more, an amused smile playing on her lips when she notices the baby seeking out something with her eyes tightly shut, mouth opening and closing quickly.

"Other times, they might be looking for food. Do you want to try feeding her?" she asks Steve.

Steve looks up, a slight flush coloring his cheeks.

"Yes. I'll try feeding her," Steve says.

Apparently, it's right on time because their daughter lets out a loud whimper, clenching and unclenching her tiny fingers. Her face screws up and Tony can pinpoint the exact moment that Steve begins to panic.

The nurse snaps to action, showing Steve how to move so that she doesn't choke or swallow down air.

Getting her to latch is surprisingly easy, from the way Tony sees the nurse watch on in pride, she seems to think that Steve has the situation handled.

Nurse Hannah leaves them to it, giving Tony a respectful nod and goes back to doing whatever it was that she was doing before.

Tony's eyes trail back to his daughter, watching the way Steve handles her with the ease and gentleness of an experienced parent.

It's strange, and yet, he feels as though Steve were made to do this. And the thought strikes a chord deep inside of his consciousness because Steve was told that he could never have this, that he was unable to ever experience something so precious.

"There you go. I guess you were just hungry, huh?" Steve murmurs and smiles down at his daughter.

For a couple of seconds, it's quiet as she stops suckling, gazing at Steve with wide, brown eyes.

"She knows your voice, Cap," Tony speaks up and Steve's head shoots up and he gives Tony an unsure smile.

"You think so? I didn't exactly talk to her."

Tony doesn't answer straight away, grabbing a plastic chair that he spied earlier when he entered the room and places it beside the one that Steve's sitting on. He sits down and leans closer so that he can rub a finger gently across the baby's cheek.

"Of course she knows your voice. You might not have spoken directly to her, but she heard your voice. You carried her for nine - sorry, seven - months, so she got used to hearing your voice."

Steve hummed thoughtfully, eyes trained on their daughter as she fed.

Soon she was done, and then the nurse returned, showing Steve how to burp her.

After, when the nurse had declared her work done and deemed Steve and Tony capable of watching their daughter, Steve turned to him.

"Do you want to hold her? I just realized you never - She's your daughter, too. You should hold her," Steve stumbled over the words.

Tony felt a surge of panic take hold of him, but he managed to suppress it enough to urge Steve to hand her over.

As soon as she was in his arms, it was like all the breath was knocked out of him. He was too afraid to breathe too loud or to hold her too close in case he accidentally hurt her.

She was so tiny.

He couldn't believe that he had a hand in creating something so pure and innocent as her.

He watched as she blinked slowly at him, each blink getting heavier and heavier and he knew then that he'd do anything for her.

All too soon, their time with their daughter is over and they have to leave. For Tony, it's a bitter-sweet moment and a part of him wants to resist when the nurse takes her from his arms. But then he sees the way Steve watches as Nurse Hannah puts their daughter - their so very tiny daughter - in the too-big incubator and he feels a deep pang of sorrow for the soldier.

Because in a perfect world, Steve would be getting to take their daughter home with them instead of watching her being put in the incubator for the night.

Sure, they get to take her home in two days' time, but it still doesn't sit right.

Steve doesn't watch for long, and as he watches Steve, Tony can see the way the blond bites his lip and turns away before walking to the wheelchair and sitting down.

Tony gives their sleeping daughter one last look and then walks over to Steve, standing behind the chair.

"We'll get to take her home soon," Tony says softly.

Steve gives a jerky nod of his head. "Yeah, I - It's just -," Steve gives up, voice thick with emotion, and Tony doesn't comment on it, instead giving him a small smile and squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.

"I know."

The trip back to Steve's room is filled with meaningless talk, but it comforts both of them and takes their mind off of their daughter.

When they do finally get to the room, it's like a wave of exhaustion settles over Steve, and he struggles to fight back a yawn, but to no avail, one slips out.

He settles in the bed, allowing Tony to help him get comfortable. No matter what position he's in, it's difficult for him to settle in properly and when he shifts, he can't help wincing when he moves too fast, feeling the tenderness in his lower half that hasn't disappeared yet.

He catches the worried look that Tony directs to him and he's quick to wave away Tony's concerned questions, assuring the brunet that he's okay.

"I'm fine, Tony. Just a little sore."

Tony huffs and rolls his eyes.

He's still standing awkwardly in the room, and Steve motions towards the chair that Tony's occupied from the beginning of Steve's stay on the medical floor.

Tony sighs but pulls the chair closer to the edge of Steve's bed, then sits, scooting forward until he can lean his elbows onto the bed.

"You know, for someone who's spent this long in the modern world, you're still terrible at lying," Tony tells him. It comes out incredibly blunt, but his words are softened by the hand that Tony places on Steve's arm.

Steve turns to face him, carefully this time so as not to bring forth another feeling of discomfort, and mock-glares at Tony.

"You're so annoying, you know that?"

Tony laughs. "Yeah, but you're stuck with me. I promised the good doctor that I'll be here if you need me, remember?"

Steve's features soften, and he smiles at Tony from beneath his lashes, a look of slight embarrassment on his face.

There's a moment of silence between them, and Tony debates on whether or not to tentatively approach the topic of Steve and their daughter staying with him in the penthouse, or to simply come out and say it.

Like ripping off a band-aid.

In the end, it's a mixture of both the former and the latter.

"Hey, Steve?"

Steve focuses his bright blue gaze on Tony.

"Yeah, Tony?"

"So, I phoned Pepper last night and she had some people drop off a couple of baby supplies at the penthouse. Knowing Pepper, she probably had them assemble the crib and everything else that had to be built. She also might've had a few people clear out one of the spare rooms and turn it into a nursery. I know we didn't talk about it, but you know Pepper, she has good intentions. So, what do you say? Move in with me? Well, I mean, there's the guest bedroom, so not really in with me in with me , but still."

He watched Steve's face carefully as he spoke, noting the way the blond furrowed his eyebrows as he got closer and closer to blurting out 'move in with me?' and the way a deep frown started to form.

"Tony…" When Steve said his name it sounded like an exhausted sigh.

Tony couldn't fault him for it, though.  The thing was, they hadn't even spoken about living arrangements. Yes, he had promised Steve that he would be there for their daughter. He can't imagine being one of those parents that ignore the mere existence of their children. And if he's being honest with himself, he can't imagine being the type of parent that Howard was to him. 

Truth be told, he never really thought past that, which, in hindsight, was an issue on his behalf. Really, he was just so surprised and caught in the moment when Steve was in the throes of labor that when everything was finally over, he was still reeling from it. And then after, when he called Pepper, the whole thing with the living arrangements hadn't even been on his mind.

And now that he's blurted everything out to Steve, it really doesn't seem that bad. It might be awkward - they weren't together anymore, after all - but for the sake of their daughter and the fact that it simply wasn't practical to pack a bag for her at the end of every week and dump her on the other's floor when their week with her was over, it was easier for them to live together. It made him uncomfortable and brought back memories of when he was a child and when Howard had him shipped to boarding school. Granted, the situations weren't the same, but the feeling of living out of a suitcase and the feeling of not being wanted was something that made him pause and think that a situation like his past one could be prevented.

He didn't want his daughter to feel like she wasn't wanted or that she was different simply because she had two parents who weren't together. And yeah, he knows that kids go through it all the time when their parents get divorced - or when they break up.

But it wasn't something he wanted for his child.

And he tells Steve that.

"Okay, I know this isn't exactly what you want, but it's better than the alternative, which would be us packing a bag for our daughter at the end of each week so that that other gets to keep her when it's their chance. And there's also the fact that Pepper already had people see things up in the penthouse. Do you want to move everything to your floor? Because then we need to order duplicates of everything so when she stays with either of us she's comfortable. And if it's not that what's bothering you and simply the fact that staying at the penthouse with me is what makes you uncomfortable , think of it as being roommates. I won't bother you, and I'll stick to my half of the penthouse. You won't even know I'm there. You won't see or hear anything from me. Promise," Tony said.

He made the action of crossing his heart and Steve rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips quirking up slightly in a semblance of a smile. Albeit, one that Steve tried hard to resist doing.

And then Steve sighed.

"Tony, it's not that. I - nevermind. You're right."

Steve didn't sound too happy about it, but his tone wasn't angry or bitter, so Tony counted it as Steve being in agreement. Really, Steve never gave up so easily, so if he was doing it now, it must mean that he agreed with Tony's logic.

Tony leans back in the hard plastic chair that he now thinks of as his own and spares a quick glance at the time on his phone, noticing that it was already one in the afternoon. 

Was he there so long already? It didn't even feel like half an hour since he'd joined Steve again, and yet it was already six hours later.

When he realizes that Steve's watching him with a mixture of wariness and exhaustion clear on his face, he packs his phone away.

He didn't want Steve to think that he was counting down the hours until he could leave. He promised he would stay, and he was a man of his word, despite what a couple of people who didn't know him all that well would say. Namely, the media.

Tony flashes Steve one of his best smiles, hoping to reassure the blond and help him relax, and it works. Steve loosens up and sinks back into the pillows that Tony had insisted on fluffing up for him, and struggles to hold back a yawn.

Seeing this, Tony frowns slightly.

"You should sleep. Take a nap."

Steve shakes his head, stubborn.

"I can't. I'm not tired," he argues. As far as arguments with Steve go, it's a weak one, and Tony knows it, which is why he raises an eyebrow.

"That yawn that I just saw says differently. Try."

 "Shut up. I won't be able to sleep," Steve says, sounding slightly put out, and Tony gets what the blond isn't saying.

Tony moves forward until he's leaning halfway out of his seat, then moves to tuck the blankets around Steve properly.

"I'll be here the entire time. I'll be awake if anything changes, promise. Sleep, Steve," Tony says. He brushes a couple of stray strands of hair out of Steve's face and smiles at him.

Steve gives him a grateful smile in return.

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep either? I know you couldn't have slept enough last night," Steve asks, sounding concerned.

Tony shakes his head. "No, I'm good. Stop worrying about me and get some sleep."

Steve relaxes against the pillows, getting comfy. When he replies, his voice is soft, sleepy, and his eyes flutter slightly. "Thank you, Tony."

Tony gives him a fond smile. "No need to thank me, Steve. Sleep tight, buttercup."

Tony brushes his fingers through Steve's hair until the blond's eyes fall shut.

Now all that he needed to tell Steve was his idea for names for their daughter.

He hoped Steve liked the name Morgan.

Chapter Text

Nostalgia isn't exactly the correct word to describe the way Steve feels when he sets foot in the penthouse. It isn't accurate. But it was a similar way to describe what he's feeling; a wash of memories - both fond and not - settles over him like a heavy cloud, and he has to swallow several times to dislodge the combined feelings of discomfort and familiarity and sorrow that gathers at the back of his throat.

Tony is talking too fast for Steve to catch up - something about water - and he wishes not for the first time that he is back on his own floor. He's exhausted, and being back in the penthouse is making his already horrible mood even worse.

He's not dodging the situation at hand, of course, he isn't, it's simply that ever since he left the med floor, it's as if there's something missing. And no matter how many times he checks, it's not going to appear. Steve knows that what he's feeling is normal, that it's natural to feel this way when he's separated from his baby, the doctor told him so, but to actually feel it was different from being told about it.

He physically aches.

Tony leads him to the kitchen and he tries not to touch anything, noting that Tony probably had the cleaning staff over. He can tell that the penthouse was too clean; it looked as if there was no one living in it. No belongings lying around, no tell-tale signs of life. And it disarmed him, made him feel as if he was an outsider looking in, even though he knew the penthouse like the back of his hand. Because once upon a time, the penthouse was his home. 

"Steve? Are you listening? Would you like anything to drink? I have some juice, water? Oh! And there's some coffee if you don't feel like having water or juice," Tony gestures towards the coffee machine and Steve shakes his head, declining Tony's offer of beverages.

"No, thank you. I can't drink coffee. If you don't mind, I'm going to go lie down." Steve phrases it like a question, and Tony nods agreeably, almost as if the idea had occurred to him at the same time that he said it.

"Yeah! No, it's cool. I don't mind. Let me show you to the guest room," Tony says, sounding absent-minded as he guides Steve through the penthouse.

Steve follows and doesn't say anything about how he already knows where the guest room is. For as long as he can remember, the guest room had remained empty while they were dating. It was void of any and all furniture and belongings, and when Tony found out that he liked to paint, Tony had made plans to turn it into an art studio for him. Those plans had never had a chance to come to fruition, as they'd broken up not too long after. 

For him, it's a painful reminder that that's the point in time when things started to go wrong for them; they'd both been too involved with other things that when they were together they didn't know how to be together. Sure, they spent time together. They cuddled on the couch, watched meaningless series' on Netflix, and on occasion made out like teenagers, but they also brought out the worst in each other during those times. A simple conversation could spur on shouting matches that lasted longer and longer as the weeks went on. But no matter how angry and hurt he felt whenever he was reminded of their fights, Steve's always reminded of the good times that went hand in hand with the bad times. It outweighed all the terrible things that they said to one another in an attempt to hurt each other.

Steve stays silent as Tony walks them down the hallway that passes the master bedroom, then leads them down another hallway that belongs to the guest room.

"-I know how you want space, so this guest room was made up for your stay." His stay. As if staying in Tony's penthouse was a luxury getaway and not them inhabiting the same space to co-parent their daughter. 

"-and then the nursery is in right next to the guest room. Easier to get to and I think that Pepper might've thought that you'd want to be closer to her. Also, that way we can take turns to see to her in the middle of the night. The nursery is close to both of our rooms. So, you know..." Tony trailed off awkwardly, hand coming up to rest at the base of his neck.

He couldn't disagree with that logic, so he nods. "Yeah. It will be easier to get to her in the night," Steve says and immediately recognizes the look of relief that makes its way across Tony's face.

"Great! I haven't had a chance to check out the nursery yet, do you want to? Check it out, I mean. You can say no. I know that you're tired and the nursery will be here tomorrow, and the day after so you-"

Steve cut him off. "I'd like to see the nursery. I'm sure Pepper did a great job with it," he says. Tony's face flits through a myriad of emotions too fast for him to identify, and then he realizes that he's too tired to even try to distinguish what they are. At best, Tony was a mess of suppressed emotions. At worst, well, Tony was complicated to understand.

Tony doesn't grace him with a response, and for that, he's overwhelmingly glad; being in the space he shared with Tony was dizzying. And Steve was man enough to know what he was and wasn't capable of handling. Which meant that he understood that he wasn't in the best of headspaces - he wanted to reach out for his daughter but then he would withdraw whenever he realized that she was still down on the med floor - and that Tony's presence and being back in the space that he had last been in a couple of months ago wasn't the best of combinations. 

His SHIELD-assigned therapist would be proud of him for recognizing what he could handle and what he couldn't. Sam would be unhappy that he ignored those feelings and still soldiered through. But neither his SHIELD therapist nor Sam was with him, so they had absolutely no say.

Tony nods, mouth shutting closed, almost as if he was about to say something but thought better of it, and then he turns on his heel and walks to the nursery.

Steve simply follows.

When Tony stops outside of the door, Steve has a brief moment where he can feel his stomach twist into knots, whether they're from nervousness or something else he can't tell.

The door is like any other door in the penthouse, painted white to match with the steel-glass-marble aesthetic thing Tony has going. He supposes that Pepper also had a hand in the decoration of the penthouse. It's not a new thought, rather something he's always thought of ever since he'd first seen the interior of the penthouse. 

For someone with Tony's exuberance and bigger than life attitude, the space was a little cold and, well, unlively. He can't fault Pepper for it, really. The space was decorated professionally, and dotted about the place there were a few paintings and centerpieces. The decor was minimalistic, which meant that either it was meant to look the way it was - like the penthouse wasn't lived in - or it was meant to be decorated further by the person inhabiting the space. The last time the penthouse had resembled that of someone living in it was the period of time when he and Tony were dating; they'd bring little trinkets back from missions or conferences overseas for SI, and there'd always be signs of life. Domesticity. Now the place looked cold.

Steve refuses to dwell any longer on those thoughts and shoves them in the deepest part of his mind. The past was the past and would remain so. Like he said, he knew what he could handle and what he couldn't. 

And then Tony's pushing the door open and Steve really doesn't know what to say; unlike the rest of the penthouse, Pepper really went all out.  

The walls were white, and Steve supposed that it was made to be white in the case of whether or not they wanted to change the color later on. Or the fact that Pepper might've thought that it was gender-neutral. He liked the idea of it. The crib was a solid wood, dark oak and the headboard had intricate designs carved into it. Near the crib, there was a rocking chair. On the far end near the window, there was a changing table with a built-in baby bath. The cupboards were white as well, and from what Steve could see, whoever had done the room didn't have enough time to pack away a few things; judging by the unopened cardboard boxes that were on top of the cupboards, they'd been about to pack the things away but simply hadn't had enough time.

He takes a step closer, his curiosity piquing when he sees the labels Clothing and Toys.

Steve's about to open one of the boxes closest to him when Tony calls his name.

He looks up and sees Tony holding a pastel pink gift bag out to him.

When he sees that he has Steve's attention, Tony comes closer and hands the gift bag to him. Steve eyes it, feeling wary. But then Tony's talking again. At him. Not to him. Which is a very Tony-like thing to do. Not in a bad way, just that it was a nervous tic of Tony's; when he was unsure or overwhelmed by something he tended to talk. Which made everyone focus on how annoying his rambling was instead of the fact that his hands sometimes trembled or his eyes would look for the nearest exit.

And the fact that Tony's doing that makes Steve feel like an even bigger jerk because Tony was trying. For all that Steve was feeling wrung out, exhausted, and overwhelmed by everything, there was no doubt that Tony was too.

So he takes the gift bag and looks to Tony for an explanation. Except, he sees the tag first, filled with Pepper's looping script and something fond settles in his chest.

"Uh, Pepper must've left it here. I saw it lying in the crib. I can tell her to take it back if you're not interested. But Pepper means well and I'm sure she didn't mean to offend you. If this offends you, of course. I know I didn't exactly discuss this with you and Pepper's already bought gifts. And I know that if Rhodey knows he's probably going to buy a couple of clothing and toys as well in an attempt to be the best uncle. Fair warning. So if you want me to tell them to stop I can," Tony says in a rush.

Steve shakes his head and accepts the gift bag. "No, no. Don't do that. I mean, I don't want them to get out of hand, but everyone already knows, right? And I know that Natasha has probably already bought things. And Sam and Bucky are going to fight Rhodey for the title of best uncle. Maybe even Clint. So there's that. But you don't need to tell Pepper. I know she means well. And… I appreciate it. Really, I do," he tells Tony and exhales in relief.

"Good. Good. Because to be honest, I don't think I could've even told Pepper to hold off on the gifts. She, uh, she sounded really excited earlier."

Tony is reminded of the phone call he'd gotten as Steve was getting dressed to leave the med floor earlier, and recalls how Pepper had gushed about all the cute outfits she had to stop herself from buying their daughter.

Steve nods, still holding onto the gift bag. The silence between them stretches, beginning to get uncomfortable.

Steve clears his throat and looks away, eyes flitting over the furniture that decorates his - their daughter's nursery. For something that was done last minute, it was really thought out. He makes a mental note to thank Pepper the next time he sees her. When he turns to look at Tony he finds the man already staring at him, a look that he can't place shining in Tony's eyes.

But then Tony's snapping out of whatever place he's fallen into and is talking again.

"Right, sorry, you're tired. Why don't you head to bed so long? I'll be around if you need anything, and you know FRIDAY is always watching, so she'll alert me if you need anything."

Steve nods and then he thanks Tony, noting that as soon as the brunet mentioned his tiredness, his exhaustion seemed to suddenly weigh down on him even further.

The two leave the nursery together and then they're heading in separate directions; Steve to the guest room, which was now to be his bedroom during his temporary stay in Tony's penthouse, and Tony to wherever Tony ended up settling.

Steve knows that Tony would no doubt be heading to his lab. And honestly, Steve didn't fault the man. It was a strange two days, and from the way things were going, it would probably get even stranger. Steve also knows that Tony probably needed a break from being in the same space as him. He had been unbearably moody and hormonal, not to mention clingy. And even the thought of what he put Tony through and the way he had acted in front of Tony was enough to make him cringe and feel hot with embarrassment. 

The motions of getting dressed into sleepwear is a mindless act that Steve barely remembers doing, his mind far away and thinking of the baby girl that he left behind on the med floor.

When he finally falls asleep, he's thankful for the peace it brings his restless mind; his sleep is dreamless and he's able to fall into a deep slumber, exhaustion pulling him into its embrace.

***

Finding that he wasn't alone and the only one awake at this particular hour surprised Steve, and seeing Tony sitting on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter was, well, it was strange. Tony was never awake this early unless it was for something important like one of those business meetings that he couldn't wrangle his way out of unless he wanted Pepper to be mad at him. 

Tony was engrossed in whatever he was looking at on his tablet, and Steve didn't want to disturb him or make him feel like he was violating his space, so he turned around and was about to head back to his room but stopped when he heard Tony call out to him.

"Steve! Hey!" Tony greeted, sitting up straight. He put down his tablet and Steve watched as Tony wiped his hands on his pants nervously - yet another sign that this was as uncomfortable for Tony as it was for him - then stood up.

"Good morning, Tony."

He felt a surge of fondness settle in his chest the longer he watched Tony.

Tony gave him a blinding smile and waved him over, then pointed at the countertop, which, now that Steve was looking at it and not at Tony, was full of a breakfast spread. 

"Good morning. Sleep well?" Tony asked, glancing at him before pulling out a chair and motioning for Steve to sit before sitting down himself.

"Yeah. I slept well. Guess I was even more exhausted than I thought," he says, sitting down in the chair that Tony pulled out for him.

Tony chuckled. "I can't believe you're actually awake at this hour. You of all people should be sleeping longer."

This time it was his turn to laugh. "Really? I was surprised to see you up this early! You're never awake this early. I remember -"

Steve trails off. He was about to say 'I remember that I always had to shake you awake so that you'd wake up. And even then, as soon as I'd leave the room you'd turn over again and go back to sleep.' 

"Yeah, you hardly wake up at this time of the morning." He settles for that and refuses to look up in case Tony had caught on to what he was about to say.

Thankfully Tony hasn't caught on and has put it upon himself to fulfill whatever his provider DNA is telling him to do. Which means that Tony has filled an entire breakfast plate for Steve and put it down in front of him before he could even think to object.

"Here. You haven't eaten properly since yesterday." Tony doesn't say anything else, giving Steve a pointed look as he grabs the carafe of coffee before sitting down once more.

Steve doesn't even have the energy to argue that he isn't hungry. He hasn't been all that hungry since coming back from his mission. It wasn't healthy, he knows, but he can't exactly force food down his throat, could he? Not if he didn't want to throw up and give in to the slight nausea that's been plaguing him.

He doesn't immediately eat the food he's been given, though, and he watches as Tony pours himself a mug of coffee that nearly reaches its brim. Tony is so focused on his task that he doesn't realize Steve is watching until he clears his throat.

Tony glances up at him with a questioning look on his face. "What?" Tony asks.

Steve makes a point in starting pointedly at the mountain of food that's spread across the counter. "You need to eat. If I'm right, and I usually am, then this is probably your fifth cup of coffee for the morning and you haven't had any breakfast. If I have to eat then you have to eat as well."

Tony gives a put upon sigh but reaches for a blueberry muffin nonetheless. "Fine, happy now? I'm eating."

Steve doesn't bother smothering the grin on his face and sends Tony a sweet smile. Then he's reaching for a plate and filling it with eggs and a few breakfast sausages before handing it to Tony.

"Now I'm happy."

Tony rolls his eyes but shovels a forkful of egg into his mouth.

For a few minutes, the space between them is filled with the sounds of eating. Not much on Steve's behalf, though; he's still feeling nauseous and only manages a couple of bites of his scrambled egg and toast whenever Tony glances his way. When Tony looks away he goes back to moving the food around on his plate.

Maybe he needs more sleep. 

Tony, thankfully, doesn't say anything about his barely-eaten plate of food when he stands to clean up, only sends Steve a look of concern that Steve does his best to brush off.

Tony puts their dishes into the sink and when Steve offers to help clean up, Tony shakes his head.

Steve doesn't know what to do with himself. It makes him uncomfortable to simply sit there and do nothing to help when Tony was the one who went out of his way to give up his safe space and went through all of this effort to set up two rooms for both him and their daughter to stay in. Sure, one of them was for their daughter which they both needed to look after, but he didn't have to do all of the things he did for Steve. 

Tentatively, Steve begins to tell Tony about what he has planned for the day. It's nothing interesting, but it will keep his mind off his straying thoughts and discomfort at being back in the penthouse and sharing space with Tony once more. And there's also the fact that the baby clothes and a few other things were still packed in cardboard boxes and needed to be unpacked and put in their correct places. That was something that still needed to be done. 

Steve hoped that it was enough to keep him sane until the arrival of their daughter.

Tony seemed interested in what he was saying, nodding his head emphatically and adding his own input here and there. 

Steve feels himself relax. It isn't as bad as he thought it would be, sharing a space with Tony. Sure, they're still a little awkward around one another, but they were trying and that's all that counts.

And when there's a silence between them once more and Steve feels as though he doesn't have anything else to say, Tony fills the quiet with something that makes Steve feel something akin to warmth and fondness spread through his entire body.

"Steve?"

"Yeah, Tony?"

"Just hear me out, okay? And feel free to tell me to fuck off if you don't like it or you think it's stupid, but, what about the name Morgan?" Tony isn't looking at him. In fact, he's studiously ignoring him and drying the plates that they just ate out of. Steve is pretty sure that the plate is dry, but he doesn't point it out. Lord knows Tony was gracious enough not to point out all the embarrassing things that he's done over the past day. Well, day and night. So the past two days, then.

Steve's thrown for a bit by the suggestion, but as he mulls it over in his head, he doesn't really have a name in mind, nor does he hate the name. It's honestly a cute name.

And, like he said, he doesn't have a better idea. There was also the little fact that Steve could see just how much Tony was trying to appear indifferent to his opinion. But Steve liked to think that he knew Tony a little better than that. Beyond Tony's look of indifference, Steve could see just how badly Tony was trying to appeal to him.

Steve immediately feels guilty. Tony was trying.

"I love it. I think it suits her," he says. Tony's facade cracks and he grins down at Steve.

"Really? You're agreeing with me? You don't want to name her after your mother or mine? You can say no, you know. If you're just saying yes to agree with me or for some other… odd reason, just know that further down the line you'll be stuck with the name Morgan forever. What if you hate it?" Tony says.

Steve shakes his head and let's loose a slight laugh.

"I don't want to name her after either of our mothers. Unless you want to? I think Morgan Stark sounds perfect."

When Tony doesn't answer straight away, Steve looks up to see what's wrong and sees the stunned look on Tony's face.

"What?" he asks.

"Stark? You're giving her my surname?" Tony asks, sounding dumbfounded.

"Well, yes. You're her father, too, Tony. Unless you don't want me to give her your surname, then I'll just leave it as Rogers," Steve hastily adds the last bit, not wanting to push the invisible boundaries that were clearly set between him and Tony. 

Tony shakes his head slowly. "No, no. I just - thought that you would be giving her your surname. You're kinda -"

"I'm kinda what?" Steve asks.

"Nevermind. Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. You're her other father. Why wouldn't I be sure?" Steve finds himself questioning. Morgan was their daughter. So why wouldn't she have Tony's surname?

"Morgan Stark," Tony repeats. To Steve, the name sounds perfect as it rolls off of Tony's tongue. 

"You know, this kid is going to have a complex if she ends up with the name 'Stark'. I don't want her to end up hating me because she has my surname. And God knows there's enough on the internet for her to hate me for. Hell, I'm the person everyone loves to hate! Are you sure you want that for her?" Tony sounds slightly bitter as he speaks, and though he appears nonchalant, Steve can see the pain in his eyes.

"She won't have a complex, Tony. You're a good man. And I thought you told me that no one really cares about what's on the internet. If she'll hate you, who's to say that she won't hate me either? There are things on the internet about me too, you know. I don't care what other people think. If it bothers you that much, we can hyphenate," Steve says.

"So Morgan Rogers-Stark, then?" Tony asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Morgan Stark-Rogers ," Steve corrects and bites on his lip to keep himself from laughing when Tony rolls his eyes.

Tony heaves a put-upon sigh. "Fine, but if our daughter hates me I blame you."

"Of course," Steve says seriously.

This time they both laugh.

Steve stands and grabs the plate from Tony's hands and sets it in the drying rack. Together they clean up the rest of the breakfast spread.

When all the dishes have been cleaned and packed away and the leftover foods have been put into the fridge, Tony clears his throat.

Steve stops his task of putting away the dishes and looks up at Tony. 

"Remember when I told you that I called Pepper?" Tony asks.

When Steve nods in affirmation, Tony carries on speaking.

"Well, she wanted to know if we told the team yet. When I said no, she took it upon herself to do so."

Steve tenses. "And?" 

It's not that he didn't want the team to know. Rationally, he knew that they had to know. A baby changed things. And something like this might affect the team. It didn't mean that he was comfortable with the team knowing his business. Especially since he was the idiot who didn't catch on to his pregnancy in the first place and was now trapping Tony into something that he probably didn't want to be a part of.

Tony looks guilty for a split second. 

"Well, your besties wanted to know when they could visit. Pepper tried fending the rest of the team off, told them you needed your rest and that we still needed to sort a couple of things out, you know, and it worked. For a bit. I have at least five missed calls and twenty messages from both Sam and Barnes combined. I ignored all of them, but FRIDAY says that Barnes is getting antsy," Tony says.

Steve bites back a curse. Of course, Sam and Bucky wouldn't just leave things alone. He knows that they care, appreciates it, but sometimes he wishes that they'd just take his word for it when he said that he was okay or that he needed some time to himself. Sam was always trying to psychoanalyze him ever since his breakup with Tony, and Bucky got even more protective over him. Steve's sure that if he were to check his phone there would probably be double the number of notifications. 

"I'm not in the mood for visitors just yet. Maybe soon, but not right now," Steve hears himself say. 

Tony nods along as if he knew what Steve would say.

Seeing Tony agreeing with him just makes Steve feel even more annoyed. He takes a couple of deep breaths, trying not to lash out at Tony. It wouldn't do to shoot the messenger, after all.

"I thought so. I told them that they could visit when you were less tired," Tony says. 

Steve doesn't know what else to say. He's irritated that his friends wanted to encroach on his space even more than they already had, but he understands why they want to visit; they care about him. And then there's the voice in the back of his mind that's saying that Tony isn't telling him everything. 

The longer he looks at Tony, the more that he finds that Tony's clearly not saying everything he needs to say. Tony's fidgeting and doing that thing with his fingers where he snaps them and presses them to his palm to keep them still again. Steve knows that Tony knows it's a dead giveaway to what he's really feeling. It was one of the things that had been brought up during their relationship. 

Steve just wishes that he had Morgan with him, that she wasn't still down on the med floor. Maybe then everyone will stop wanting a piece of him. Maybe then they'd leave him alone. At least she'll be coming home tomorrow. Just one more day. He can handle that, right?

Steve waits. He can see how close Tony is to blurting out what it is that he wants to say. 

"So I may have to leave later tomorrow afternoon with Pepper for some sort of business for S.I. I know that tomorrow is when Morgan finally gets to come home - I promise I'll be there! I made a promise to you and I intend to stick to it. But I just thought to tell you," Tony says.

Steve nods along to what Tony says. He knows that Tony still hasn't told him everything yet.

"Thank you for telling me."

Tony looks relieved and shoots him a grin. It's a show of how fed up he is with everyone and everything that has happened and is currently happening in his life that he doesn't feel a single ounce of guilt when he bashes Tony's relief with a single, "And?"

Because Steve knows that Tony wasn't telling him the entire truth. Never, not once before and during their relationship was Tony ever nervous about telling him that he had a business meeting with Pepper. Or simply when he had to leave and do something for Stark Industries. Of course, there was the occasional exception when they'd made plans weeks in advance and Tony had no choice but to go into S.I, much to Stev's disappointment. But Tony always made it up to him after, and Steve knew that whatever date they had planned or reservations they had booked would never measure up to Tony's idea of making it up to him. 

Tony instantly frowned.

"Okay, fine. So I have to leave for S.I. with Pepper but she asked me if it would be okay if she could come up to the penthouse after. Her logic was that my office is up here and it would be more comfortable and beneficial for us to finish off the rest of the paperwork here, but I think it's a ploy just to see Morgan. Before you get annoyed -" Tony says quickly, "I did say that if you said no then we could just migrate to the lower levels of the tower where the S.I. employees are. If you don't want Pepper over I can tell her. She can take it, trust me."

Steve sighs. Why did he think that he was off the hook? Of course he couldn't even get a normal morning without people jumping him. Rationally, Steve knew Tony wasn't waiting to dump this on him, the remains of their impromptu breakfast and the first proper conversation they had was proof of that, but it doesn't feel like it. 

Steve knows that he should get it over with, that he should see the team already, but he knows that he'll feel even more exhausted when the visit from the team is over. And there's the fact that Sam, Natasha and Bucky were a bit too close with him to accept any of his poor excuses when he said he was fine. They were the ones that had seen him after his break-up with Tony. Steve doesn't want their pity or their sympathy. He wasn't some sort of charity case or lost cause. He wasn't a pet project that could be picked at whenever there wasn't a mission and they needed something to keep them occupied. 

Baby steps first. 

Steve knows that Pepper wouldn't push. And if he felt that he couldn't handle things then she'd understand.

So he agrees. 

Tony's smile is so bright when he hears him agreeing that Steve has to turn away in case he does something embarrassingly stupid. Something like hugging Tony. 

Really, he doesn't understand why his heart won't give him a break already. Tony wasn't his anymore, would never be again and Steve couldn't risk doing something stupid because he now had someone else to care for instead of himself. Despite what Bucky says about his stupid ideas, he can't disagree that Steve never did things to risk others. Case in point; Morgan.

His mother was a single parent and Steve knew how difficult she had things. Which is why he knew that he had to stay on his side on the boundary line and not overstep if he wanted his daughter to have two functioning parents.

And like he said, baby steps. 

Maybe it would be good for him to see someone else besides his friends and Tony. Not that Pepper wasn't someone that he considered his friend, but because she wasn't completely overbearing like Sam, Bucky and Natasha had become in recent months. Pepper would be good for him.

Now all Steve had to do was remind himself of that until tomorrow.

Chapter Text

When Steve glances at the alarm clock he's not surprised to find that it's still early. He's been trying to go back to sleep for more than an hour and has completely given up on sleep, feeling too antsy and like he was too small for his skin.

It's not a new feeling, rather an old one that he'd experienced once or twice after receiving the serum, but it was still one that didn't make him feel too great.

Steve sighs wearily and rubs a hand down his face, screwing his eyes shut.

Today is the day that Morgan gets discharged and would be coming home. 

When Steve opens his eyes again, they immediately fall onto the pink gift bag from Pepper. He still hadn't opened it yet. 

Feeling guilty yet again - Steve can't remember feeling anything else during these past few days beyond exhaustion, guilt, and embarrassment and he's starting to get fed up with himself - he tosses his duvet aside and slips out of bed.

As soon as his bare foot touches the floor he can't help but let out a shiver; it was freezing in the guest room.

When Steve glances out the window, he understands why. The weather outside looked to be one of the days where it was nothing but cold and wet.

He crosses the room to the ottoman where the pink gift bag from Pepper lay discarded. Steve picks it up and sits down on the edge of the bed, finding that he was curious to know what was inside. The bag wasn't heavy, nor too light, which meant that the contents in the bag were on the small side.

Steve wastes no time in opening the bag, making sure not to rip it. He brushes aside the tissue paper and pulls out the first thing he sees.

In his hands is a book with a hard cover, with the words 'Baby's firsts' written on it and underneath a blank space where he assumes a picture of Morgan is meant to be placed.

Steve flips through the book and can't help but smile as he reads over the titles; 'Baby's first smile', 'Baby's first laugh', 'Baby's first tooth', and 'Baby's first word'. It's cute, and he feels fondness settle in his chest at the thought of his little baby. She was still so small, and yet, he can't help but feel so much love for her. It was overwhelming and at the same time, he couldn't deny that it felt right, having her. She was his and for so long he denied the fact that he wanted something like her in his life, he denied the fact that he yearned for something Morgan-sized and denied his sadness and anger at the fact that he couldn't have children.

But then he was given a miracle, and he realized that he would do anything to keep her happy and would be more than willing to watch the world burn if something happened to her.

He puts the book to one side and pulls out the next item.

Steve grins at the cute dress in his hand; it's pink and so, so tiny. He's sure that Morgan will look adorable in it. He allows himself to wonder how she'll look in it when he gets her from the med floor. 

The last thing that he pulls out of the gift bag is a gold box. He's slightly confused but he spies the bright blue Post-It stuck on what he supposes is the lid. He takes a moment to read it and immediately feels a swell of gratitude for Pepper. She really was a godsend in all of this. 

'Congratulations, Steve! I hope I didn't go too overboard, but I couldn't help it when I saw that adorable little dress. This is a little something for you. I know that from now on everyone is so focused on getting things for the baby that they completely forget about the parent who did all the hard work bringing that little baby into the world. So here's something for whenever you need some time for yourself or you feel overwhelmed. Chocolate always makes me feel better. 

Love, Pepper'

Inside the golden box is individually wrapped truffles. It's extremely tasteful, and, because it's Pepper, Steve has no doubt that they're expensive and made of good quality ingredients.

It's incredibly thoughtful of her. Steve knows how difficult it must be for her because of his break-up with Tony. Of course, she wasn't rude or on an obvious side, Pepper was never like that, but he can't help but feel that a baby has just made things even more difficult. They hadn't planned this and he knew that Pepper liked things to be planned out, especially since she had to work so hard at the company. Of course, working for Tony is hard enough as it is, but when you're running his company Steve can only imagine just how much harder it is. Add the fact that Tony was now a new parent, well, things would be much, much more difficult.

Which is why he's so hesitant to meet up with the rest of the team. He doesn't want to face questions on whether or not he and Tony are going to parent her together, or even worse, questions on whether or not he was okay with all of this.

The truth is that of course, he wasn't okay with the situation. It's less than ideal for two exes to suddenly come together with whatever baggage they still carried due to their failed relationship and parent a child that they had created by accident right before they broke up. 

But it doesn't mean that Steve regrets it. He's not happy about living in the penthouse again. It's a 'stuck between a rock and a hard place' kind of situation and he's willing to try and soldier through it for Morgan. Morgan was his little miracle baby and he would do anything for her, even if he's uncomfortable with being in Tony's space once more.

And as he said, it was a less than ideal situation. But Steve also knew that one could never truly be prepared for having a child. You could prepare for a long time and still be wholly unprepared when they came along, or you could be someone who never prepared, and when they came along everything kind of just slipped into place. You could never know with these sorts of things.

Steve packs the book back into the gift bag and puts it on the bedside table along with the box of chocolates. The dress he folds neatly. 

He debates going back to sleep but decides that he's too keyed up to simply lie there and wait for sleep to come. So when he finds himself outside Morgan's nursery it's not a surprise.

Steve knows that there are still boxes that need to be unpacked with clothes that needed to be folded and put into the correct drawers. It isn't a lot to do, but it would suffice in keeping his mind busy so that he couldn't torture himself into thinking up various scenarios of when the time came to pick Morgan up and bring her back home.

Steve's so intent on his actions of folding the clothing and packing the few toys away that he doesn't pick up the sound of approaching footsteps, nor does he hear Tony's knock on the door.

It's only when Tony clears his throat - for the second time - does Steve startle and look up to find the brunet watching him curiously.

"Uh, hi. Question. Were you here all night? Because if you were, that would be a serious problem," Tony says in lieu of greeting.

Steve blinks. Hearing Tony talk - and from his rough voice, it was obvious that the genius had just woken up. And really, now was not the time to notice such things - felt strange; he had been working in the silence for quite some time, and adjusting to noise once more was taking him a while.

"Good morning, Tony. I wasn't here all night, promise. I slept for a bit but couldn't sleep any longer and lying in bed wasn't cutting it for me. I realized that there were still a few more things to pack away before Morgan comes home and here I am."

This time it's Tony's turn to blink.

When Tony speaks, it's as if he's finally caught on to what Steve's been doing because he nods.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about the boxes. But you didn't have to unpack them yourself, I could've had someone else do it." Tony scratches his head, stepping out of the entryway and deeper into the nursery.

Steve feels a flash of something akin to irritation flare up at Tony's words, but he tamps down on the urge to give a scathing remark and chooses instead to watch as Tony surveys the work he's done in the nursery this morning with a critical eye.

And then Tony turns to look at him, a smile quirking up at the corners of his mouth, and Steve finds himself having to swallow several times because honestly, he could handle any one of Tony's moods; he could stand Tony when he was angry and when he was irritated, or when he was too tired to function like a regular human being, even when he was wearing his public persona and was purposefully being difficult. 

What Steve can't handle is Tony being the way he was right now. Not this morning. And it isn't just the fact that Tony is smiling at him, because Tony had smiled at him numerous times over the course of two days, but because today was different to any other day, and his nerves were already frayed at the edges. Which means that Steve isn't completely sure whether Tony was toying with him or being sincere at the moment, and he was too tired to look deeper into it.

"I could do it by myself. Getting someone in to unpack a few boxes is unnecessary. And besides, I'm nearly finished. All I need to do is pack this away and then I'm done," Steve says.

Tony cocks his head to one side, watching him for a couple of beats, and then he straightens up and walks over to Steve.

He takes the small pile of clothing from Steve's hands and packs it away in the open drawer, making sure that everything was packed away neatly before closing it.

Over his shoulder, Tony says, "You could've called me to help you."

Steve doesn't say anything straight away. His lack of a quick response is what prompts Tony to turn and face him.

"You were asleep. And I wanted a bit of silence," Steve settles on saying. There's a lot missing from the sentence, such as 'I wanted a bit of silence away from you'. 

Tony seems to pick up on it because the previous look of openness that he so easily displayed since stepping into the nursery immediately falls away. 

Steve doesn't allow the blank look that has now taken over Tony's face to make him feel guilty. He thinks he's done enough of feeling guilty to last a lifetime and isn't this the point?

He and Tony weren't meant to be so friendly with one another, especially not since they were exes. Tony told him that they were essentially roommates. Of course, it wouldn't do to dodge one another and ignore the other's existence, but since they weren't together anymore, they didn't have to depend so heavily on one another.

And Steve feels that he's depended on Tony too much in the last two days. He needed a break. He needed to learn to do things by himself. 

He's managed it before, the seven months after their break-up was proof of that. And now that he's suddenly found himself a new parent, his independence was shot to hell. He couldn't allow it to go on any further. Sooner or later the other shoe will drop and Tony will realize that Steve was just another burden that he needed to carry.

Steve refused to let that happen.

His internal monologue is interrupted when Tony speaks. Even to Steve's ears it sounds dull.

"Of course. Guess I should've thought of that. I do have a meeting after all. And Pep will kill me if I fall asleep during the negotiations," Tony says.

Steve nods. What else could he say?

Tony seems to be on board with discontinuing the disaster they were heading towards in conversation and steers it in the opposite direction.

"Breakfast? I'm starving and I know that you must at least be hungry considering how long you've been up. Besides, Doctor Mikhailov said that you needed to eat enough calories so that you can keep up your strength," Tony says.

Steve instantly agrees. It's safer to go with Tony and leave the nursery behind them, that and all the words left unspoken. He just doesn't have the energy to deal with whatever Tony seems to have going on inside his head. Not this morning.

Now all he had to do was get through was breakfast. 

And then he could take Morgan home.

Chapter Text

Steve watches as Tony signs his name on Morgan's birth certificate. It felt as if a whole load was suddenly lifted off of his chest and he could breathe easier.

Morgan was finally coming home.

The thought is overwhelming and exciting at the same time and he finds himself bringing Morgan's tiny body closer to his chest, breathing in her unique baby smell. 

Steve touched her cheek gently with his forefinger, feeling a surge of warmth when she gripped it tightly with her small hand.

He watches as her eyes open, roaming around curiously as she takes in all that her eyes can see.

Steve could tell that she'd take after Tony. 

He knows that it will be difficult to say no to her in the near future, especially if she takes after Tony. He never could say no to Tony, so what makes Morgan any different?

His mind drifts to earlier that morning. After breakfast, he and Tony both went their separate ways, Tony to take a shower and get ready for the meeting with Pepper after fetching Morgan, and Steve to get done.

The shower relieves the stress that Steve is carrying and he finds himself relaxing slightly. For once he doesn't torture himself with things that could happen and he focuses solely on taking a shower.

An hour later and he was done. Steve decides that it was better to find Tony and stop hiding from him. God, if only Bucky could see him then. He'd get a long lecture on how to face his fears and likely be made fun of. 

But then again, Bucky hadn't seen him since before he left for the mission, and he certainly hadn't heard from him after because Steve had been avoiding him like the plague. Him and the rest of the team.

He really was going to be in for it later. If Bucky wasn't going to forgive him for ignoring all of his texts and calls, then Sam and Natasha will be worse. 

When Steve leaves the confines of the guest room, FRIDAY informs him that Tony was on his way down and was nearly done. He thanked the A.I for informing him and sat down to wait.

Less than five minutes later Tony was walking into the living room, completely unaware of Steve's presence as he fixed his cufflinks and spoke into his bluetooth earpiece. He watched as the brunet looked around for him, then shook his head and turned around to head to the kitchen.

Steve stood up and cleared his throat and Tony stopped, whirling around to face him. "Thanks, Pep. I'll see you soon. Gotta go, bye," Tony spoke, and tapped his earpiece to end the call.

"Sorry. That was Pepper. There was a minor misunderstanding but everything is sorted. You ready to go?" Tony asks.

"I'm ready to go," Steve affirms and Tony nods.

Together they entered the elevator, heading down to the med floor.

Getting Morgan ready to leave wasn't a very big affair. Nurse Hannah had dressed her before they had headed down to the med floor and she'd been fed earlier that morning. Doctor Mikhailov had greeted them in the med floor's lobby, then taken them to see Morgan, explaining what they needed to do to ensure that she would be cared for properly once she left. Steve had nodded along to all the advice he'd been given and he'd heard Tony throw in a couple of questions that he had here and there, but he couldn't fully concentrate on all the information he was given, his head and heart too focused on the fact that he'd get to hold Morgan once more. That she'd be going home with him today.

Everything after that was a blur, and Steve only brought himself back to the present when he was asked to sign Morgan's birth certificate, Tony signing as soon as he was done.

As long as they signed the certificate and got the last few things in order before they could leave, Morgan was silent in Steve's arms, the only sounds escaping her tiny mouth were a few yawns every so often.

Steve watches as Tony gives the certificate one last glance, checking to see if he's signed everything, then nods at Doctor Mikhailov.

She smiles at him and then she's directing her attention to Steve. "You're free to take Morgan home now, Steve. She was an angel to look after. If you have any concerns or questions, please feel free to contact me whenever. I'll try my best to answer whenever I have a free moment. Other than that, I wish you all the best," she says warmly and Steve thanks her, feeling incredibly grateful for all that she's done for him and Morgan.

Doctor Mikhailov nods, then leads them out of the room and to the elevator. "Good bye, Steve, Mr. Stark. As I've said before, you can contact me whenever you need me."

"We will. Thank you again, Moira," Tony says with a smile.

And then the elevator shuts behind them and they're making their way home, this time with a very precious bundle between them.

Chapter Text

As soon as Tony leaves the penthouse - placing a gentle kiss on Morgan's forehead then looking to Steve with a small smile before promising to be home as soon as possible to help with Morgan, which Steve did his best to wave off, stating that he'll be fine and that Tony didn't have to rush - the space is bathed in silence. 

Steve walks around the place, righting his grip on Morgan's blankets as he does. In his arms, Morgan is wide awake, brown eyes looking at everything with curiosity. He takes the chance to point out all the rooms to her, a grin lighting up his face when she glances up at him when she recognizes his voice. 

He bends down to place a kiss on her forehead, revelling in the smell of baby powder and shampoo that seemed to cling to her. 

She reaches a hand out from between the folds of her blanket and settles it on his face, and for all the stress and tension that had taken hold of him since his mission, and then in turn, Morgan's birth, Steve feels a swell of warmth and love wash over him in waves so strong that he found himself blinking back tears.

"Is everything alright, Captain? Would you like me to inform -" FRIDAY's Irish lilt breaks through the quiet of the penthouse, startling him and his grip tightens on Morgan.

With his free hand, he swipes away the tears that had run down his face.

"No, no. I'm fine, FRIDAY. Don't call anyone," Steve says, relaxing. Morgan makes a noise of displeasure, and he realizes that the grip he had on her hadn't lessened.

He feels a surge of horror at the thought that he had hurt Morgan, and he quickly eases the tight hold he has on her.

"I'm sorry, baby girl. I didn't mean to hurt you," Steve apologizes softly, swaying her slowly back and forth. Morgan looks at him, enthralled. 

He smiles down at her, cataloguing each and every one of her features. She was perfect. Not for the first time, he thanks God for the miracle that he was given. How could he have ever thought that he couldn't live without this? Morgan is all that he needed, and everything that he thought he could never have. Now that he has her in his life, Steve was willing to do anything for her. He really was lucky.

He addresses FRIDAY again, tearing his gaze away from Morgan's and walks to the living room before carefully sitting down on the sofa.

"Please don't call anyone, FRIDAY. I'm alright," Steve says.

"Are you sure, Captain?" FRIDAY sounded concerned. 

Steve nodded, hoping that her cameras would pick it up. He really didn't want her to call someone. It would be even worse if she decided to call Tony.

"I'm sure, FRIDAY. Thank you for your concern," Steve says.

He can pick up the A.I's displeasure in her silence, but ignores it.

There wasn't anything wrong. He just got overwhelmed for a bit. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

For the rest of the morning, Steve alternates between talking to Morgan and staring out the numerous floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the penthouse. They're too high up to see anything besides a few other tall buildings (the Avengers Tower was easily the tallest building for miles out), but the view was still good. Steve's artist's eye took in the surroundings and his hands itched to draw. 

If it was one thing he missed from staying in the penthouse, it was the opportunity to draw the cityscape. Really, the penthouse suite provided the best view.

Steve pushes the thought from his mind, refusing to go down that rabbit hole again. He didn't want to think such thoughts.

A while later, Morgan started to whimper. Steve's initial thought is to panic, but he quickly brushes his panic to one side and checks her over. He doesn't know what's bothering her; she was good the entire time that he held her.

He tries shushing her, rocking her gently in his arms. When that doesn't work, he stands up, swaying from side to side. It only succeeds in making her wail.

Steve's ready to take FRIDAY up on her offer to call someone, his eyes trailing helplessly around the penthouse.

He's just about ready to give up when he stops swaying, eyes on the kitchen. 

Earlier that morning, he had pumped, feeling achy and uncomfortable after his shower. It had taken him a few tries, with a few starts and stops before he'd gotten it right. But then he'd managed to fill two small bottles, which he'd put in the fridge before he and Tony had left to pick Morgan up.

Maybe Morgan was hungry.

Steve walked to the kitchen and pulled a bottle out of the fridge. He struggled to hold onto Morgan and to heat the bottle up at the same time, but he managed, telling himself all along that he'd have to learn how to do things by himself somehow or other. No one else would be there to help him. He had to help himself.

Morgan's face is red and blotchy from crying, her small nose all scrunched up and tears trailing down her face. Her hands are balled up into tiny fists and Steve feels guilty for taking so long.

He walks them back to the living room sofa, sitting down so that he's comfortable before he positions Morgan in his arms the way the nurse had taught him when feeding.

Morgan wastes no time in latching on and he watches her drink, heart slowing down now that she was calmer and no longer crying.

Morgan finishes drinking and pulls away when she's had her fill. Steve places the half empty bottle on the coffee table in front of him then grabs the cloth he placed on the table for when he needed to burp her.

He's nearly finished burping her when FRIDAY informs him of an incoming call.

Steve bites back a curse and asks FRIDAY who it is. When she tells him that the call was from Sam, he hesitates for a second before deciding that he's had enough of ignoring any and all calls from his friends, then he's telling FRIDAY to patch Sam through, adjusting his hold on Morgan as he waits for Sam to start the lecture he knows has been a long time coming.

"Hey man, almost thought it was gonna go to voicemail again," Sam greets, his voice coming from the various hidden speakers that Tony had outfitted throughout the penthouse, and Steve can hear the slight teasing tone in his voice.

Steve feels a relieved smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. This, this is what he misses. Sam pushed him, but always knew when to stop. And the fact that Sam never greeted him with the classic 'how are you feeling?' or 'how are you?' question knocked him even higher on Steve's list of favorite friends. 

"Hi Sam," Steve greets in response. Morgan's eyes flash toward him, picking up on the fact that her parent was speaking and Steve grins down at her, gently squeezing her hand.

Steve looks up and directs his gaze to one of the nearest cameras. "FRIDAY, can you please swap it to video feed?" he asks. The A.I complies with a "As you wish, Captain," and not even a second later one of the free walls is showing Sam's face.

Steve sees the moment when his friend does a double-take, clearly not expecting Steve to initiate a video call and he immediately feels a pang of guilt.

Sam, not one to let another person suffer in discomfort, quickly blinks away his momentary confusion and then he's grinning at Steve.

"You look like shit, man."

Steve rolls his eyes. He can feel himself ease up and realized that this was Sam's way of making him feel relaxed. He doesn't say anything, but he's grateful that Sam doesn't push.

"Thanks for the compliment, Sam. Really feel loved right now," he says and Sam laughs. Steve thinks it's as good as any time to introduce Morgan, so he frowns, making sure that Sam sees his mock displeasure. "Also, please refrain from swearing in front of my child."

Sam instantly sobers, squinting into the camera, then his eyes widen. "Wait - is that?"

Steve nods in Sam's direction, but he only has eyes for Morgan. "Yeah. This is Morgan," he says, then moves the blanket slightly away from her face so that Sam can see her. 

Sam grins, then leans back in his chair. "Congratulations, man! She's gorgeous. But who am I kidding, she takes after her godparent. Of course she's gorgeous."

Steve looks at Sam in confusion, but then he realizes what Sam is talking about. Rather than roll his eyes again, he settles for playing dumb. "What godparent?" he asks innocently, bowing his head and busying himself with Morgan so that Sam can't see him trying to hold back his laughter.

Beneath his eyes lashes, Steve sees Sam fold his arms and raise an eyebrow. Steve thinks he looks distinctly unimpressed.

"What - Me! I'm the godparent, Steve!" Sam exclaims and Morgan whimpers at how loud he is. Sam instantly looks guilty.

Steve hushes her, then looks up at Sam. "I don't know," he says, "I don't think gorgeous is the word one will use when describing you. Annoying, yes. Gorgeous, no."

Sam scowls. For a minute, Steve is left to wonder if he hadn't gone too far, but then Sam is laughing, which sends him off into his own bout of laughter. 

After two rounds of one of them stopping their laughter, only to carry on when the other sends them off again, they finally manage to stop.

Sensing what was about to come, and it was inevitable, really, Steve looks down at Morgan and swallows heavily, biding his time.

Only to feel stumped when Sam doesn't do what Steve thought he was going to.

"Where's Tony? Thought he might be helping you since she's his baby too," Sam asks. The question isn't invasive or interrogatory. Sam doesn't say it in a way that shows how he feels about Tony either. Steve knows Sam isn't too fond of Tony since their break-up, but since the break-up was between them and not them and friends, Steve doesn't take anything Sam - or Natasha and Bucky - says to heart.

The question does, however, throw him.

"Tony had a meeting to go to, but he told me he'll be back soon. He's bringing Pepper with and we're going to have lunch together," Steve tells him. And then waits. Because he was waiting to see where Sam was going with this.

Sam doesn't berate him, doesn't complain that Steve didn't even bother to inform him or their friends what was going on.

And while Steve is grateful, he also feels like a terrible friend.

What Sam does do - and it makes Steve uncomfortable because he always hated being stared at for a long time - is scrutinize him. 

Steve doesn't meet Sam's gaze, but from the corner of his eye, he sees Sam fold his arms and lean back in his chair.

It's something that Steve picked up on and notices that Sam does it a lot, usually when he was trying to analyze the situation. He probably got it when training to work at the VA.

Of course, when he doesn't meet Sam's gaze, it only serves to make Sam even more suspicious. See, the thing about Sam was that he was one of those really good men who made it their mission in life to help others. Of course, it didn't matter whether you thought you didn't need help, or if you were beyond help or even not deserving of the help being offered. No, of course it didn't. Not with Sam. Because Sam was just that good and always wanted to help.

Which, when Steve first met Sam, he thought it to be an amazing characteristic. Ever since he was unfrozen, it had been hard to find people who were as sincere as helping others as Sam was. But now that he and Sam were closer, friends even, he found it a characteristic that wasn't as endearing as it seemed to be before. Not as endearing when all that focus was put onto him. 

All that bull about 'I'm your friend, not your therapist' didn't fly with him as soon as Sam started to question a couple of the things that he did. 

For example, there was that time when he and Tony had that huge argument and Tony ended up doing a four day bender in the lab and Steve had decided that he had enough and had just spent those four days on Bucky's floor. Sam had pitched up on day two of him not feeling sorry for himself and given him a raised eyebrow before sitting down and crossing his arms.

And then there was the lecture. Or, as Steve called it in his head, Sam's therapist speech. Ever since, Steve made it a point not to get on the end of another one of Sam's lectures.  He loved Sam, but sometimes it was too much. Not to mention, at the end of it all he always left feeling guilty or like his insides had been turned raw. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. 

So, Steve knows that whatever had previously held Sam back and stopped him from doling out one of his many patented lectures, clearly had no hold over him now. Steve knew that it wouldn't last long. Stalling only works for a couple of minutes with Sam, anyway. The guy was a goddamned immovable object when it came to getting down to the touchy-feely conversations. 

Yet another thing that Steve was not fond of. 

"Are you settling in okay? I know from my sister's experience that it's hard settling in with a brand new baby. More so when you're co-parenting," Sam says. It still didn't sound all too interrogatory but it was getting dangerously close to approaching that level.

Here we go.  

Steve takes a deep breath. "I'm settled in, Sam. Well, as much as I can feel settled in, anyway. Morgan's been great so far. She's real quiet and doesn't fuss much. The only time she did was when she was hungry," Steve says. 

"That's great, man. Are you okay?" Sam asks, not beating about the bush.

"You know, if one more person asks that I'm going to shoot someone." Steve knows he's evading the question, but it's less because of a lack of something to reply with and leaning more towards annoyance. He understands that Sam is worried about him. He gets it, he does. He's sure if the tables were turned he'd be the one asking all the questions just the way that Sam was, but like he told Sam, if another person asked him whether he was okay he's going to shoot someone. Or jump off the roof of the tower. Either of the two options looked good.

"Alright, alright! No need to bring out the guns! It was just a question. One that I had to ask seeing as I'm your friend and all, but if you don't want to answer you don't have to. Although I can kinda guess judging by the situation," Sam placates, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"If you can guess then why are you even asking me?" Steve asks. He was barely holding onto what little sanity he had left, and he could hear the mix of bitterness and irritation in his own voice. Sam didn't deserve to be faced with his horrible moods.

If Sam picks up on the change in his tone of voice he certainly doesn't mention it. He simply carries on with his explanation of why he feels the need to ask Steve questions that had obvious answers. 

"Because, like I said, I'm your friend. And even if I can clearly see how you're doing, sometimes outside appearances don't reflect what's going on inside. Means that you could be pretending that everything is all sunshine and rainbows when you're really in need of some sleep and someone to listen. I'd like to think that I'm a good friend and a good friend checks up on their friends." Sam leaned back in his seat, purposely giving an air of relaxation and no nonsense. The mix of body language was odd, but Sam seemed to pull it off. And it obviously had the desired effect because Steve felt the need to reassure Sam that his reasons for checking up on Steve - although incredibly annoying - was not unfounded.

"You are a good friend, Sam," Steve says. For the first time in what feels like forever, he gives Sam a genuine smile. He didn't have to fake anything in front of his best friend.

Sam grins and nods in agreement.

"So how are you doing? Or are we doing that thing where we both pretend I didn't ask a question that you're trying to dodge and we both carry on with our lives as normal? Because we can do that. I'm cool with it," Sam asks seriously, getting rid of the playful grin that he'd displayed not even a few seconds ago.

"Sam, as much as I appreciate it, you aren't my therapist." 

Really, this man was like a dog with a bone; he wouldn't take his eyes off the prize.

In this case the prize was getting Steve to admit how he really felt. Which, Steve really didn't appreciate Sam trying to trap him into admitting something that seemed to only make sense in Sam's head. Maybe Sam thought that if he got Steve to admit that he wasn't coping with Morgan or whatever he wanted Steve to admit, then it would all lead to some bigger picture that only Sam could make out. Who knew how the guy's brain worked?

Sam gave a snort at Steve's response.

"And I thank the Lord for that everyday, man. But seriously, just because I ask how you're doing doesn't mean I'm trying to be your therapist, Steve. I do it because I'm your friend." 

"I'm fine. Exhausted, but we're fine," Steve deflects.

No answer was an answer, right? He wasn't exactly okay, but he also wasn't ready to admit that to Sam. At least, not outright.

"Not the answer I'm looking for but if there's one thing I learned since I met your punk ass back in DC it's that you're evasive when you want to be and nothing I do will get me a straight answer." Sam seemed to accept his crappy answer. It was clear that he wasn't happy with Steve's response but he wasn't willing to call him out on it.

"What can I say? It's not hard to change the topic when I'm talking to you. You're easily distracted. Like a child that sees something shiny," Steve tries to joke. It fell a little flat, but Sam thankfully took the bait.

"Man, sometimes I wonder why I'm even friends with you. But two can play at that game. How goes the co-parenting? Not exactly what you thought, right? Good thing you're good at adapting, Mr. Man-With-a-Plan," Sam says.

Steve took some time to answer, glancing down at Morgan to see how she was doing.

She seemed content to lay in his arms, brown eyes flitting from one side of the room to the other, oblivious to the conversation that was going on around her.

"I wasn't the one that suggested it. Tony completely sprung it on me while I was in the medbay and I was too tired to even argue. And now we're living together and supposed to raise Morgan together. Co-parenting was definitely not what I planned. I get it, I do. If I were in Tony's shoes and if I'd been through what he has I'd suggest it too. But now I feel as though this won't work, no matter how good the reason behind it," Steve says carefully.

Apparently, this was enough of an admittance for Sam because he suddenly sat up straighter, clapping his hands together in eagerness.

"Now we're getting somewhere! Have you, you know, spoken to your therapist yet? It might help," Sam asks.

This time it was Steve's turn to snort.

"And say what, Sam? How do I possibly start a conversation like that? When she asks, 'So, do you have anything interesting you might want to tell me?' do I tell her 'so I slept with my ex before we broke up and I gave birth to a child I didn't even know I was carrying a few days ago. Oh, and now we're currently living together to raise our child. Other than that, no, nothing interesting happened in my life. How about you?'. That couldn't possibly go across well, Sam! She'd look at me like I'm crazy! Which, to be fair, I can't exactly blame her!" Steve bursts out. And yes he knows that he might've yelled at Sam just a tiny bit, but surely the situation called for it. Did Sam really want him to talk to his therapist about this? Honestly, even entertaining the idea was preposterous.

Sam looked thoughtful; he was thinking of the right words to use.

"Steve, man, I get it. I can understand why you feel this way, but there are a million other people in the world who've experienced this and been in your shoes. It all boils down to how you handle it and what you make of it," Sam says gently.

Steve felt as though his emotions were tearing it's way through his skin, showing their hideous faces. And if this is what it was like having to deal with leftover hormones from giving birth and pregnancy then he didn't want it. He knew he was being irrational but it was as if he couldn't fight against the barrage of words that slipped off his tongue. If he was level-headed and not at the mercy of his emotions then he'd never admit to any of the things he'd admitted to just now.

"Not like this, Sam. Maybe I'm being ridiculous and maybe I'm blowing things out of proportion but I shouldn't have this! I have a child and I'm living with my ex. Nowhere was there a plan for this in my future. And now I'm stuck in this situation and I don't know what to do." Steve can hear the frustration and despair in his own voice. It was embarrassing to even say the words he did, to admit the things he was admitting, but at the same time it was freeing. Sam was willing to listen and let him vent. God knows that Bucky - no matter how much Steve loved him the man was not the type to have a heart to heart - would do all that he could to avoid a conversation like this.

"What do you mean by you 'shouldn't have this?'" Sam asks carefully, a frown now etched into his features.

Steve deflates slightly, feeling the surge of emotions that had taken over his brain lessen slightly. He takes a deep breath to centre himself before continuing.

"As in I literally shouldn't have this, Sam. This life was never meant to be mine. I couldn't have children, Sam. And now I have a baby that I shouldn't have had in the first place and I'm living with my ex-boyfriend who's suddenly okay with us being in each other's space again. I'm still trying to wrap my head around everything and I don't get to use that as an excuse because now I have a small person who is completely dependent on me. I'm terrified that I'm going to mess up and then all of this'll disappear as soon as it appeared," he says quietly.

He couldn't look Sam in the face. Instead he looked down at the little girl in his arms, the one he shouldn't have had but was blessed with anyway.

Steve hears rather than sees Sam exhale loudly before responding. Not that he needed to be watching Sam to know what expression he was making. Because he knew without looking that Sam had his thinking face on, the one that said he was about to deep dive into a conversation that had his full attention and that he had no intention of abandoning.

"Well, now we're getting somewhere. I don't know what to tell you, but I think I'm going to start off by saying something that you definitely won't like."

"And what's that?" Steve finds himself asking.

He manages to look Sam in the eye this time, wanting to hear what the man had to say.

The look on Sam's face is a mixture of seriousness and amusement, and the sight of it alone confuses Steve, but before he has the chance to urge Sam to say what he was going to say, the man speaks up.

"I'll be as gentle as possible when I say this, but man, if you guys were going to break up with one another, why the hell didn't you use a condom? You know what they say. Wrap it before you tap it!" Sam teases, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Steve sighs in exasperation, rolling his eyes.

"So basically you're saying 'I told you so'," Steve points out.

Sam lets loose a suppressed chuckle and Steve lets him laugh good-naturedly, allowing his friend to poke a little fun at his expense.

Sam stops laughing a good minute later, instantly moving back into serious-mode once more.

"Basically, yeah. But now that we have that out of the way…" Sam trails off.

Steve instantly sobers, what little of a good mood he has slowly fading. He knew what was coming next. He also knew that he wouldn't exactly like what was going to be said.

"What? You already said 'I told you so'. Spit it out, Sam. I'm not exactly going to be mad at you. I'm too tired for any of that," Steve says.

"Well aren't you just a ray of sunshine this fine day," Sam deadpans.

"Sam."  

Sam exhales, then leans forward onto his elbows, resting his chin on his hands.

Steve can tell that Sam is thinking about what he's going to say.

"Okay, fine," Sam says slowly, "Steve, when you said that you were scared that you're going to mess up, you need to know that this - everything you're currently going through is normal, right? First time parents go through it all the time. Sometimes parents who have multiple kids feel scared too. It's normal. All a part of parenting," Sam explains. 

To Steve it felt like Sam was talking to him like he was a child. He was getting tired of being spoken to as though he was going to break, as if he was in some sort of fragile mindset and that if spoken to truthfully, he was going to have a breakdown.

He won't. He just wants to be treated like he was before, not as if he was going to suddenly fall apart.

"You know, if I had a dollar for every time someone told me that it's okay to feel this way or that everything is going to be fine or even when they asked me how I'm doing, I'd be a millionaire by now," Steve says drily.

Sam isn't impressed.

"I'm going to ignore that for now. This isn't only about you being scared, though, is it? This is about something else, isn't it?" Sam asks tentatively.

Steve cursed his past self for becoming with someone who was so good at reading his mind. Or at least so good at reading between the lines.

"I'm going to assume it's about that comment you made earlier - about everything disappearing. What do you mean by that?" Sam continues, pushing the topic a little further.

Steve resists the urge to sigh. It was too late to back out now, and since he'd already said too much and Sam had already guessed the general gist of what he wasn't saying, he might as well tell him everything.

"I mean everything, Sam. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop and the worst part is I don't know when it's going to happen," Steve admits, looking down at the baby in his arms.

Morgan's eyes are staring straight back into his and it's almost as if she knew what was going on around her and was trying to provide comfort in her own way.

"Steve, are you afraid that Stark is going to take Morgan away from you?" Sam asks seriously. 

Steve jerks his gaze away from where it was trained on Morgan and looks Sam straight in the eye, shocked that he'd even suggest something like that.

"No! Tony won't do that. He's not like that," Steve exclaims. 

Sam doesn't even react at the loud exclamation, looking for all his part the concerned therapist. 

"And you're positive he won't? Look, I don't want to jump to conclusions or anything, but clearly you're afraid of something. My mind is telling me it's this. I know that you say he won't take Morgan away from you but how can you be sure? I'm not trying to make you afraid but I need for you to be one hundred percent sure that your heart is not clouding your judgement. And I say this as your friend; you may try to convince me that you've moved on but my mama did not raise a stupid boy. I know that somewhere in that big heart of yours you still have feelings for Stark, as unfounded as they might be. Is your heart impairing your judgement or are you capable of making decisions with your head? Yes, you said that you're both going to be looking after the kid together, but down the line? How sure are you that his mind won't change? That he won't want the kid for himself?" Sam asks. The question throws Steve, in more ways than one.

He certainly wasn't expecting Sam to say something as ridiculous as this. He's irritated and he's shocked into speechlessness. How does he even respond to this?

Moreover, how can Sam even suggest this?

"Okay, I'm not sure if this is your way of actually saying you care, but from where I'm standing, it certainly doesn't feel like it. For the past couple of minutes all I've heard is what you think of Tony. And let me tell you, everything that you've just said is nothing worth repeating. Because I may have let you get away with your side commentary every now and again but the truth is it's been going on for months. I know that you and the others think that this is somehow all Tony's fault but you all seemed to forget that we are both adults. If you're going to ignore him or pass snide comments, you might as well add me to the list because it was both of our choices to go out separate ways and he shouldn't have to be the only one to get the cold shoulder. And I really don't appreciate everyone bringing up Tony's weapons. He did his best to move past that and the fact that you keep on bringing it up is disgusting, especially since he's had to work so hard to get people to see him other than another war profiteer," Steve says, utterly disgusted at Sam words. And yes, Sam never directly said anything about Tony's past in the weapons business in this conversation but Steve remembers a few of the snide comments that were made right before the mission they went on to retrieve Tony's weapons.

And this was something that he simply won't stand for. Because he knows that it was easier to blame Tony but the reality was that this was only something that could be blamed on the both of them. It certainly wasn't a one man job. Blaming Tony for this solely was not going to happen any longer. 

He gets that his friends are protective - overly-protective - but he is a grown up. He can make decisions for himself, and if he doesn't hate or blame Tony for their mutual break-up, why are his friends so hell bent on blaming the man? So much so to the point where snide comments are passed?

Sam must've seen the look on Steve's face or heard the barely held-back anger in his voice because he throws his hands up in surrender, a look of remorse and shame on his face.

"Okay, I apologize for any and every comment that I've made about Stark. I get that he moved away from the weapons business and I acknowledge all the good changes he's made. But I can't forgive him for treating my friend the way he did. You may be able to push it aside because you don't think you're worth all that trouble but I won't forgive it so easily. I can try to be more… open-minded when it comes to him but I can't promise anything for the others," Sam says.

As far as apologies went, it wasn't bad, but it still wasn't a proper apology.

Steve sighs irritably, fully exasperated with the way this conversation was going.

"Sam, we didn't work out. Did I wish we did? Of course. But I can't change it. And I'm not sure it's such a good idea," Steve says tiredly.

"Steve -" Sam starts, only to be cut off before he can continue.

"I have to go. Pepper and Tony will be home soon and Morgan's getting fussy," Steve cuts in, ending the conversation.

He knows it's rude, and he was willing to bet that his ma was practically rolling around in her grave at his disrespect, but the conversation was going around in circles without getting anywhere and he was getting extremely tired of the way everyone else seemed to think that they were involved in this situation. Were they his friends? Yes. Were they in a relationship with him and Tony? No. Do they currently have a three day old baby to look after? No. So why did they all have opinions to share? Opinions that all stemmed from the fact that they were less than happy with Tony.

Sam isn't happy with the flimsy excuse but he acquises.

Steve can't care less about Sam's unhappiness at being cut off. He's just happy to be done with the conversation.

"Yeah, okay. But don't go being a stranger again, man. Promise me you'll let me come visit? Or you can come over. I'm sure Barnes will be happy to see you too. He's been acting even more like an asshole than ever lately. Bring the baby with. Kids love me and I have to meet my goddaughter sometime," Sam says with a smile. Steve's happy to hear that he sounds genuine.

What he isn't happy about is being backed into a corner to accept an invitation to see his friends. Despite being stuck between a rock and a hard place, he finds himself agreeing, knowing that the rest of the team won't quit asking until he agrees.

"I - Yes. I'll come over soon," Steve agrees half-heartedly.

Sam grins.

"Great, man! That's all I ask. Enjoy your lunch," Sam says and ends the call.

Steve doesn't know what to do with himself in the sudden oppressive silence of the penthouse. Sam words are bouncing around his head and Steve doesn't have the will to stop himself from analyzing them too closely.

He knew that Sam - and in turn, the rest of his friends - was scrabbling at straws, trying to find a solid reason for disliking Tony. Sam was wrong, that's all.

But what if Sam was right?

Chapter Text

The investor's meeting is mind-numbingly boring. Tony's lost count of how long he's been sitting there and listening to what the investors from Korea have been saying, but if he were to a hazard a guess, judging from Pepper's icy glares aimed in his direction - no doubt to get him to pay attention - and the numb state of his ass and the cramp in his right leg, they had successfully passed the three hour mark. God, he needed to move around soon. His leg was well on its way to becoming a charley horse. And since meetings with investors usually take around three hours but could easily go beyond that with the amount of back and forth that always occurs, Tony needed to move. There was only so much shifting around in a seat that a guy could do before someone started to think something's up. And he's also sure if he so much as shifts a single hair's breadth further that Pepper will stab him with her stiletto. Yeah, no. He wasn't going to risk pressing Pepper's buttons any further today.

He sighs, glancing fleetingly at the watch on his arm. He couldn't help but feel as though him being at the meeting was him abandoning his post as a father. They'd barely had Morgan for an hour before he was leaving her and Steve alone in the penthouse. He made a promise to Steve that they'd look after Morgan together and each take on the duties of being a parent and now he was sitting in a meeting, very much not doing what he promised Steve.

The timing of the meeting was downright terrible and the fact that he was expected to be concentrating and paying attention to the discussion happening around him was simply laughable. Either way, whether Tony was paying attention or not, SI had a reputation, and he was sure that no matter how they, or rather, Pepper, played it, at the end of the meeting the investors would be all but eating out of their hands and the contract would be signed. Which means that yet another million dollar deal was signed and everyone was ten times happier. Not him, though. Because the goddamn cycle will start again and he tries his absolute hardest not to go into SI unless there was an absolute need to. A need such as an emergency down in the company's labs that was caused by one of the new lab techs and he was called in to put out the literal fires, or there was a board meeting that Pepper wanted him to go to. He's sure that Pepper only calls him in to go to board meetings to torture him. 

It might be Tony's company, one that he worked hard on and was exceptionally proud of, but if he didn't have to go in to work and had the option to only fill out the occasional stack of paperwork then he'd be the happiest person alive. That or the option of no paperwork. But Pepper believed that since she was running his company he had to pull his weight whenever she needed him to. Which, yeah, it might be true. But she wasn't really  running his company. He was still the CEO and he still had the last say, but Pepper had more tasks than she used to have when she was still his personal assistant and liked to remind him that she was allowed to tell him what to do because he had basically abandoned ship to fly around in a flashy suit.

Tony's considering - and has considered - handing the CEO mantle over to Pepper. For all that he loves the direction that he's steered Stark Industries in, and how much blood, sweat and tears he's poured into the company, he hates the everyday routine of it. He hates how boring his job is. If he could spend all day in R&D building things and working with his hands he would, but according to Pepper it was child's play and he needed to actually do his job. A job that required him to fill out stacks of paperwork that must've killed at least a hundred trees (he's exaggerating slightly but the number was still impressive. And for God's sake, they were a tech company! Why weren't they filling out electronic forms?), attending hour long meetings and going on business trips overseas without any time to actually relax and enjoy the country he was currently in.

Throughout the meeting he feels Pepper's eyes boring holes into him and he does his best to pay attention and give his input when asked, hoping to appease her long enough that she stops watching him like a hawk. Of course, given how professional she is, none of the investors pick up on her all but verbally scolding him for his lack of attention.

And so, when all the investors are pleased with the outcome of the meeting, loose pages are packed away into briefcases and hands are shaken, Tony sighs, closing his eyes in relief and sinks down in his seat.

He couldn't be more glad that the meeting is finally over.

Tony's relieved at the long-awaited closure of the meeting, but he knows that soon enough his relief will be cut short by whatever lecture Pepper has planned for him.

Starting… now.

"Tony." Tony resists sighing out loud at the sound of Pepper's voice. It's coming from over his shoulder so he knows that she must've moved closer to him. Instead, he sits up a fraction taller - not enough to be completely upright but not so much that he was still slumped over in his seat. He braves peeking through his lashes, internally cringing at whatever face of disappointment Pepper was definitely aiming his way.

What he sees in the reflection of the office's glass walls doesn't help him much and he spins around in his seat, facing Pepper to gauge her mood. It might not have been all that smart, especially since he knows she would be giving him a lecture, but it also wouldn't be too smart to continue facing away from her and looking at the walls. Either way, he'd have to face her sooner or later.

He fixes a toothy grin on his face and laces his fingers together, aiming for a look of innocence. One that will, hopefully, appeal to Pepper's more forgiving side and would help get him off the hook.

"Yes, Pepper?" he asks, blinking slowly for added effect.

Pepper's eyes narrow dangerously and Tony almost gives up, gearing himself up for the start of a no doubt lengthy lecture.

"Don't you 'yes, Pepper' me, Tony. You know very well what you were doing," Pepper starts. 

Tony feels the beginning of an argument building up at the tip of his tongue and before he knows it, he's opening his mouth.

"Pepper, come on. I get that this meeting is important or whatever, but right now I can't think of anything more important than what is currently in my penthouse. I promised Steve that we'd do this together and me leaving for this meeting right after Morgan was discharged sends the opposite message," Tony argues.

Pepper's mouth opens, then shuts as she thinks better of what she was about to say. Instead she sighs, body relaxing and eyes softening as she focuses her gaze on him.

"Let's go, then. We did promise that we'd be back in time for lunch and we passed our lunch break about an hour ago. I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Pepper states matter-of-factly.

Tony blinks, completely thrown for a loop at Pepper's change in moods. 

But, since he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he stands up, grabbing his briefcase then extends an arm out to Pepper with a grin.

"What are your feelings about Italian?" 

Pepper grabs her own briefcase and hooks her arm in his. "I love Italian."

"Great! I happen to know the perfect place."

They leave the boardroom together and walk towards the elevators.

Once the elevator doors slide shut behind them, Pepper turns to face him, her eyes bright with excitement. "I can't wait to meet my goddaughter. I can already see all the cute outfits I'd dress her in and I'd be her favorite Aunt. I'd be like one of those aunts you see in the shows. Ooh! I'd be Auntie Pepper, " she says with reverence. "Why did it take you so long to have a child? I could've had a little niece or nephew to spoil rotten!" she adds, voice oddly close to a squeal.

Tony stares at her in slight horror and awe. Pepper Potts did not squeal. She put the fear of God into old men who dressed in ill-fitting suits and thought they still had a say in the boardroom. If God was a woman it was most certainly Virginia Pepper Potts with her sky high pumps, tailored suits and perfectly manicured nails. Which is why Tony struggles to comprehend the woman standing in front of him.

So all he says is: "I'm sure she can't wait to meet you, too. After all, she has to meet the woman who's kept her daddy alive this long, right?" 

He shoots her a toothy grin, and Pepper, buoyed by the fact that in less than an hour, she would be meeting her niece, grins in return.

"You're not that much of a hot mess, Tony. I'm sure you would've been fine without me there to help you. I just make your life slightly easier."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Still a hot mess, though. And I don't know my social security number. Is that a bad thing?" He looks at her in a contemplating manner, head cocked slightly to one side.

Pepper sighs. "Nevermind. I'm shocked that you're going to be a father. From now on I'll tell Steve to add me on speed dial. Colonel Rhodes as well."

Tony pouts. "You're all ganging up on me. Just you watch. I'll be the best father out there and then you can all stop laughing at me."

Pepper rolls her eyes heavenward but doesn't reply beyond a "Nobody is laughing at you, Tony."

The lift dings and they step out onto the ground floor, walking towards the security desk where Happy is waiting for them, watching everyone with his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

He and Pepper share a quick glance before Pepper walks over to Happy, greeting him with a light peck on the cheek and hands her briefcase over to him. Tony claps Happy on the back and leads the way out the building, looking over his shoulder when he realizes how slowly the two behind him are taking to catch up.

"Hap, come on. Leave the poor people alone. You really have to stop watching them like a hawk. And stop requesting to see their badges. These people work here. Not everyone is out to get me," he throws over his shoulder.

Happy speeds up when he notices Tony's about to step outside alone without someone to watch him, grumbling beneath his breath.

Tony, aware of what he's doing, grins cheekily at Happy and speedwalks to the awaiting car.

Happy shoots forward and grabs his arm, halting his process and Tony whines in protest, looking at Pepper for help. Pepper simply ignores what is going on in front of her and steps into the car when Happy opens the door for her with his free hand.

When Pepper is safely inside the car and the door is shut behind her, Happy turns to glare at Tony. 

"People don't believe me when I tell them I'm Iron Man's bodyguard. You know that? They don't believe me. They also don't know that Iron Man behaves like a little kid hopped up on candy. You gotta start acting like an adult some time," Happy says.

Without another word, he gets into the car and closes the door behind him. 

Tony gapes at him. Stunned. 

Then he scowls. "I am not childish. And I don't need a bodyguard. Technically, you're Pepper's bodyguard," he says to absolutely no one. 

When he's met with silence - which is to be expected when you're wasting your breath talking to the air and not people - he simply opens the card door and slides into the back next to Pepper who seems to be tapping away on her phone. Most likely busy with the next project. 

Happy, not waiting until he's properly seated and comfortable, pulls away from the curb.

They've been driving for more than five minutes when Pepper discards her phone on the seat between them and clears her throat. Tony, now engaged in his own phone, doesn't hear her. It's only when she lets out a loud, obnoxious cough does he look at her, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.

Happy, apparently also interested in what was going on with Pepper, raises his eyes to the rearview mirror and asks her if she's okay, sounding more than a little sceptical.

Pepper merely sends Happy a sweet smile and assures him that everything was alright. Happy, assured by her response, diverts his eyes to the road once more and continues with his driving.

"So. Morgan, huh?" she says, giving him her full attention. She's got a small smile on her face. One that's partially smug and partially pure excitement. It's an odd mixture but Pepper somehow makes it work, and for the first time since he left his daughter in Steve's more than capable hands this morning, he finds himself losing some of the tension in his body and relaxing slightly, feeling happy that he can talk to someone else about his daughter. He's extremely proud of her. She's already got him wrapped around her little fingers and she doesn't even know it yet. She's beautiful and if given the chance, he'd boast about her to anyone and everyone willing to listen. And he loves so much already. God, he's never felt this way before, but Tony would do anything for Morgan. 

The feeling is both terrifying and exhilarating.

And Tony, strangely enough, doesn't feel like making a break for the hills. He promised Steve that he's one hundred percent on board. And he is. But even if there wasn't the promise that he made to Steve, simply meeting and holding Morgan for the first time made him want to be a better person and parent than his own father was. You know, breaking the cycle of shame and all that. But also, there's something about holding your own child for the first time that makes you forget about all of your own doubts and makes you want to do right by them.

Tony lays his phone on the seat beside Pepper's and allows the grin that was teasing at his lips to grow. 

"Morgan," he repeats, nodding his head. Pepper's blue eyes are sparkling with happiness and she clasps her hands together, bringing them to her chin.

"What made you choose the name Morgan? Not that there's anything wrong with it," she says quickly, "but it's not something I expected from you."

Tony knows that right on top of the list of things she 'Didn't Expect From Tony™' was him procreating with someone either. Which he managed to prove her wrong on. Whether it was a success or not was still pending. He was still testing the waters with the whole Steve situation he had going on.

Needless to say, Tony doesn't rise to the bait like he would've previously - See? He's grown in the short amount of time since learning he's now become a father - and simply grins harder.

"To be fair, I wasn't really thinking of a name at the time. I just looked at her and the name popped into my head. I guess it stuck. But the name suits her, I think. She looks like a Morgan to me, right?" Tony says, referring to the single picture he'd taken of her and sent to Pepper along with a string of nonsensical, panicked texts. 

He's not sure if Pepper saw it, since she flew in during the night and then attended this morning's meeting. Between the sleeping, preparing minutes of the meeting and generally getting things ready for however long she was planning on staying in New York, he doesn't see how she could have possibly had time to do anything else.

"I think it's a beautiful name. It's a gorgeous name for a gorgeous little girl," Pepper adds, smiling at him. If he's not mistaken, he senses a touch of pride and indulgence in her voice.

Right as he's about to respond to Pepper, Happy, who is apparently not as focused on his driving as he pretended to be, butts in.

"Who's Morgan?" Happy asks, eyeing them both in the rearview mirror.

Pepper's happy expression falters slightly and her smile tightens at the corners.

In that moment, Tony knows that he's messed up monumentally.

Okay, so there are a few people he still hasn't told about his new role in fatherhood, but it's to be expected! He was freaking out when he called Pepper two nights ago and he hasn't found the time to tell anyone else. But he thought that maybe Pepper would've covered it. Obviously not, judging by her reaction. 

He thanks his lucky stars that at least the team knows. That was the biggest hurdle that needed to be sorted out. 

Which… now left him with the obstacle of Rhodey and Happy. Two immensely overprotective people in his inner circle. People who would no doubt tell him what exactly they thought of this situation. And he loved them for this exact reason; they were honest and blunt. And they don't allow for the obvious fame in his name to stop them from venturing into invisible lines surrounding and separating him from everyone else. They don't allow for his ego to get too big. Again, another thing he loved about them. They keep him humble. 

But he doesn't have the energy to deal with anyone else who had an opinion on the situation he was currently involved in. He won't say 'stuck' because he isn't. He promised Steve he'd be a part of this. He was Morgan's other father and he needed to step up to the plate. It still doesn't mean that he wasn't already exhausted simply thinking about the less than impressed looks he'd get from Happy and the lecture he'd be forced to endure from Rhodey. Add in the fact that Rhodey would be making a long-distance call and factoring in the difference in time zones, meaning that the call would come at an odd time, well, there's no doubt that Rhodey would be extremely annoyed with him.

He has no retort to stall with so he does what he does best: evade all questions at all costs.

"No one important," Tony says, doing his best to sound as dismissive and uninterested as possible.

It works, if only slightly from the long scrutinizing look Happy gives him before muttering an 'uh huh' beneath his breath. 

As soon as Happy's focusing on his grumbling up in the front of the car, Pepper shakes her head at him and scoffs.

"I can't believe you!" she hisses, sounding incredibly annoyed. "I thought you told Happy. This is need to know information, Tony. Especially in your line of work. And I thought Happy was our friend! I bet you didn't even tell Rhodey yet," Pepper scolds.

Tony doesn't hide his wince in time and Pepper catches it before it's gone completely from his face. She throws up her hands and scowls, turning her face to the window in disbelief. "Honestly, Tony! Every time I think you're doing something right you manage to prove me wrong. Every time!" Pepper argues. 

Tony's never seen her look this pissed before. But he's not bothered by her reaction, he's more bothered by what she's said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, doing his best not to sound butt hurt. His voice comes out sounding defensive. Oh well, it's better than showing her how badly her words have hurt him. He doesn't think he can handle sympathy or pity any more than he already has.

The truth is that Pepper's words hurt simply because they ring true. He does his absolute best to ensure that everyone is happy with his work; he will work himself to the bone and won't sleep until he's perfected his team's gear, until he's absolutely sure that their gear works perfectly in the field and that they won't get hurt. But somehow it's just never enough. Not that the team doesn't thank him, they do. And excessively so. He doesn't need their thanks. He'd just like to see them come out alive after a mission. What he means is that his best is simply never enough for himself or for anyone else for that matter. He just can't seem to please anyone. He gives money to charity? Of course he isn't doing it so that people could benefit from it, oh no, he's doing it for the recognition . Argues with some journalist or reporter? He's volatile and difficult. It doesn't matter that he was defending his team, or even better, someone who can't defend themselves. It never matters.  

The crux of the matter is that whenever he tries to do something right, his version of what he thinks is best is not the correct one. To everyone else he's just doing things wrong. Tony thinks that if he had to describe himself, the words 'fuck up' is pretty apt.

God, he's really sick of the whole feeling sorry for himself thing. Didn't he do that enough for the past two days? Is it not enough that he's messed up and brought a child into this mess that he and Steve finds themselves in?

Then there's the bigger picture. The one that he knows Pepper is talking about without actually uttering those exact words: he's messed up his relationship with Steve. Right from the start of their relationship, Pepper was the one who vouched for them, supported them. She was both of their friends; Tony knew Pepper longer, she was one of the few people he trusted, but Steve was the one that made her feel at ease. Steve was the one she was most comfortable with letting her hair loose in front of. They borrowed their favourite books from one another and had coffee dates. And they even went to art shows together. When they broke up, Pepper couldn't understand the reason why. She just seemed to accept it. Resigned herself to the fact that they weren't a couple any longer.

Pepper is pointedly making reference to one of his biggest fuck ups. If not the greatest. She thought that he'd do right by Steve and that her assumptions that they'd be great together were right, but he proved her wrong by taking a good thing and messing it up beyond repair. Beyond recognition. Because both him and Steve are not the same people they were when they were dating.

Not any longer.

So he brushes his hurt off and plays the defensive card.

He's so done with everything. He's done with feeling sorry for himself and this situation he finds himself in. 

Tony has had it.

Pepper deflates, blue eyes going from hard and fiery with anger to soft around the edges. She bites her lip and squeezes her hands together in her lap. 

"I didn't mean it that way, Tony. It's just - gosh, everytime I think that you'll do something right, everytime I think you'll do what I think you'll do, you do the exact opposite. It's like sometimes you don't even think, you just act. And I'm not berating you, I'm not. I just - I'm your friend, aren't I, Tony?" she asks, her voice sounding small and laden with something he doesn't recognise. 

When he nods silently she carries on.

She takes a deep breath.

"Well, I'm your friend, but sometimes I find it difficult to be your friend because you make it so hard for me to care about you. Wait, that's not what I'm trying to say! That's not what I meant!" she panics, eyes going wide. 

She tries again.

"I mean that you don't want me to care for you. You make it difficult for me to show you just how much I care because you brush everything off and act as if you're unbothered by everything that goes on in your life when I know that you aren't. I'm not stupid and I can see it. And," here she pauses and blows out a deep breath, then continues with her tirade,"  - And I know that Rhodey and Happy will agree with me. You think that you're a burden when you're not. I'm sure that even though he's halfway across the globe Rhodey would like to know what's going on in his best friend's life. You didn't even tell him about Morgan or Steve. Nor did you tell Happy. You told me. And I appreciate it. I really do. But Rhodey and Happy deserve to know as well. They care about you just as much as I do. We're your friends, Tony. Look at it this way: how would you feel if I had to do this to you? If Rhodey hadn't told you?" 

Tony can't help the grimace that appears. He'd be really upset if the tables were turned and Rhodey hadn't told him. Even though he agreed with Pepper, her words still stung. Not as much as before now that she explained herself, but the pain was still there.

But he could deal with it.

"Yeah, you're right, Pep. And I'm sorry I didn't tell both Rhodey and Happy but I guess I was so stressed out by everything that it must've slipped my mind. And when I remembered that I'd forgotten to tell them again, I just didn't know how I possibly could tell them. There's no easy way of breaking the news to them," he says.

Pepper gives him a shaky smile, understanding written all over her face.

"You're forgiven. But this doesn't mean that you're not telling them. Because there's no way that I'm telling Colonel Rhodes this information. Or Happy, for that matter. I've already informed the team. I haven't given them any more information, but I'm sure they have questions for when you and Steve are ready to answer them," she says.

Tony groans at the thought, rubbing a weary hand down his face.

"Fine," he acquiesces, "I'll tell Happy. And I'll phone Rhodey later today. But I can't make any promises about the team."

"Good. I'm glad that's settled then."

And just like that the tension that had filled the car fizzles out.

Happy, who had apparently pulled up the visor separating him from Tony and Pepper when they started to argue in a show of giving them privacy, lowers the screen and tentatively informs them that they've arrived at the restaurant.

Tony instantly feels like a tool. Not for the first time this day. God, he's basically resorted to treating Happy like his bodyguard only, as if the man wasn't one of his closest friends. 

He really needs to get his head on straight. And soon, too. 

He leans forward in his seat and tells Happy that he and Pepper will head on in to the restaurant; there was no need for all of them to get out. And if he takes Happy in with him, there is the chance that Pepper will get annoyed with him because he might end up ordering her the wrong thing. 

***

He and Pepper head into the restaurant, more like a family-friendly diner, really, and Tony doesn't bother looking around to see how full the place is. He isn't here to sit down and at this point of the day, after leaving Steve to fend for himself against a newborn and attending a three hour meeting on basically an empty stomach, he doesn't care if the paps took a couple pictures of him. Not that they'd get to keep them, of course. He was close friends with the woman who owned the restaurant, considered her to be an extension of his Sicilian family, and she did not tolerate any paperazzi tailing him or taking his picture without his permission. Especially in her restaurant. She's been looking after him ever since he was a snot-nosed, no good kid in college. She saw him when he was spiraling out of control and she was there for him whenever he had drunk a little too much, always offering him a cup of coffee and handing over a warm plate of food to him. Despite his complaints, she never took any money from her, refusing to let him pay for his meal. She told him that a mother couldn't charge her own kids for meals and that was that. But whenever her back was turned, Tony slipped some money in the cash register or the tip jar, whichever was closer and always, always more money than his meal came to. Compensation for dealing with someone as problematic as he was , he always thought. 

Tony strolls up to the glass display and removes his glasses, putting them in his pocket before leaning over to see if his comare is in. 

Pepper tugs on his sleeve, trying to get him to back off slightly and he turns to look at her, noticing how she's watching him with a look of puzzlement on her face. 

He shakes his head, giving her a grin and squeezing her hand to reassure her that everything was alright. "I know the owner of the restaurant, Pep. Just trying to see if she's in or not." 

Pepper nods in understanding, moving until she's stood next to him at the display case. 

"You didn't tell me you knew the owner. We've been ordering from them for years," she says, looking about the place with interest in her eyes. "I've never actually been inside, always phoned in, but it's warm and cozy here. The restaurant's got a great atmosphere." 

"That they do, Pepper-Pot. That they do," he says with a proud smile. He had been around for almost every upgrade that the tiny restaurant had undergone through the years until it transformed into the amazing establishment it currently was. He's distracted from his musings when he notices a waiter appearing from the back and he clicks his fingers to grab their attention, humming in amusement when their eyes widen when they realize who he is. 

Must be a newbie then. 

"Hey, is the owner in the back? Could you call her to the front for me, please?" he asks, barely managing to hold back a laugh when the poor waiter nods furiously, tucking his tray beneath his arm and scurries away to the back once more. 

Besides him, Pepper nudges him in the side, glaring at him. "That isn't funny, Tony. You probably scared the poor man into thinking he was in trouble."

Tony winces, rubbing his arm where she'd knocked into him with her elbow. Damnit, but her elbows were sharp. Didn't she know how much that hurt? 

"How is that my fault? I didn't even say that he did anything! I just asked him to call the owner to the front. And if he thinks he's in trouble, chances are that he probably did something he shouldn't do. Guy looks like he's new and mi comare is nothing short of a sweetheart. She wouldn't hurt a fly, even if you managed to put the wrong spices in the food. Why would he think he's in trouble?" Tony says begrudgingly, still rubbing at his arm where there'd no doubt be a bruise if he checked it later. 

Pepper didn't have time to argue with his logic because right then, the owner of the restaurant, a short, pleasant-looking woman with red cheeks steps through the back curtain and steps upfront to the register where they're standing. 

She dusts her hands off her apron and pays them no mind, rattling off something quick in Italian to the waiter who spares them a sheepish smile and nods at her, then leaves to see to a family in the furthest corner of the restaurant. 

Pepper watches in interest as the woman turns and notices Tony, eyes lighting up and a big smile taking over her face. What surprises her even more is when the woman rounds the glass display and all but throws her arms around Tony, nearly bowling him over with the force of her hug. All the while she's muttering in Italian, eyes raking over Tony who's flushed in slight embarrassment. 

"Tony! Non ti vedo da tanto? Are you so busy that you don't have time to visit me anymore?" the woman exclaims. 

Tony hugs the woman back, eyes closing as he all but sinks into the embrace. "Of course not! I always make time to visit my favourite person." Tony's reply makes the woman laugh. 

The woman swats at his arm playfully, raising an eyebrow at him. "You're just here for the coffee," she says, making Tony laugh. 

Pepper watches them, noting how familiar the two seem to be, how close they are. It reminds her of a mother's relationship with their child. The thought saddens her when she realizes just how much Tony seemed to need that sort of bond with someone, when she realizes just how young Tony must've been when he lost his own parents. And sure, she knows how young he was, but to actually witness the scene that she currently was and to put the two facts side-by-side, it put a lot of things into perspective. 

Tony didn't let himself be comforted that easily, shied away from it whenever someone tried. So seeing him allow this woman to embrace him the way she was, to see how long their contact with each other lingered, it surprises her. The only other time she can think of when she last saw Tony accept comfort like this was when he and Steve were still together. 

The hug doesn't last much longer after that, and when the two step away from each other, Pepper averts her eyes and pretends to be invested in the huge chalkboard menu hung right above the front of the restaurant. 

She doesn't want to embarrass Tony and make him think she was judging him or whatever it was that went through his mind when he pulled back from people. It was already hard to get him to talk to her and Rhodey whenever something was wrong. 

When Tony clears his throat to get her attention, she does a great job of looking startled, as though she were pulled from her thoughts. 

Tony gives her sheepish look and she gives herself a mental pat on the back. 

Tony throws a hand around the woman's shoulders, pulling her close and kisses her head. The woman laughs, shoving him off which causes Tony himself to laugh, grinning at her before clearing his throat once more and settling his gaze on Pepper. 

Pepper waits patiently for the introduction she knows is coming. 

"Hey, uh, Pep. This is Mrs Berlusconi, known to all as Mama Rosa. To me, she's just mama or mi comare. She and her husband have owned this place for years. It's been passed down from generation to generation. Stayed in the family and all that," Tony informs her. 

As far as introductions with Tony go, it wasn't all that awkward. 

She smiles at Mrs Berlusconi, receiving a smile of her own. "Nice to meet you, Mrs Berlusconi. My name's Pepper," she greets, holding out a hand. 

Mama Rosa shakes her head, ignoring the hand and settles instead for hugging Pepper. 

"Italians are big on hugging, darling. No ridiculous handshaking.  And it's wonderful to meet you too, dear. Call me Mama Rosa."

Pepper is too surprised by the woman pulling her into a hug to think about protesting. And really, she found that she couldn't complain. The woman gave great hugs. 

When she pulls away, Pepper immediately misses the warmth. "I can certainly do that, Mama Rosa."

Mama Rosa straightens up, clapping her hands together before moving behind the display case full of sweet treats. 

"Don't think I forget that you didn't answer me, Tesoro . You don't come and visit me in ages and then poof! You suddenly come. Have you forgotten about me? So soon? " Mama Rosa asks, her perfect English disappearing and her Italian accent, deep and smooth, slipping out. 

Tony has the decency to look suitably chastised. 

"I promise that I haven't forgotten! I've just been really busy and haven't had the time to go out that much," Tony explains. 

Mama Rosa huffs, but reaches over the counter to ruffle Tony's hair, causing Tony to pull away and pout. 

Pepper struggles to hide her laugh and disguises it as a cough. Apparently, she wasn't as subtle as she thought she was because Mama Rosa sends a wink in her direction, and Pepper loses her composure, laughter shaking her shoulders. 

"Too busy flying around in that flashy suit of yours to see me. And you say you don't forget but you only come for your coffee. I see how it is," Mama Rosa says, laying the guilt on thicker. Pepper can see the sparkle of mischief in her eyes. 

Tony laughs and Mama Rosa shakes her head, pretending to be put out by his actions, but her act is ruined by the laughter that escapes. 

Pepper simply watches from the sidelines, enjoying the display that she was being allowed to be witness to. The sight was heartwarming to see. 

"Not only for the coffee. Don't forget your bomboloni and cannolis. I haven't had them in awhile," Tony says and Mama Rosa shakes her head looking to Pepper for help. 

"You see what I have to deal with, Pepper? Tony forgets about me and only remembers me when he needs me to feed him."

Then she turns to look at Tony. "I hope you haven't been living off of that cheap pizza you call food. That's not authentic Italian food and it's a disgrace to the Italian heritage. How they can even call it Italian pizza is beyond me."

Tony throws his hands up in surrender. "I solemnly swear that I have not eaten any pizza that is not authentic."

Pepper bites her tongue from spilling the beans. Just last month she'd witnessed Rhodey and Tony gorging themselves on meat lovers pizza from Pizza Hut. As far as she knew, Pizza Hut was most definitely not authentic. 

Mama Rosa hummed, squinting her eyes at Tony in scrutiny. 

Tony grinned at her innocently and Mama Rosa shook her head. 

"Right then. What can I serve you today?" she asked. 

Pepper takes this as her queue to order. "Well, we might've worked right through our lunch time -" 

Mama Rosa's eyes widen like saucers. "You worked through lunch? Do you not know how important it is to have all three meals of the day? This is bad. Anthony, I see you still aren't good at feeding yourself." Mama Rosa tuts, shaking her head. 

Tony splutters, looking over at Pepper for help. Pepper simply shrugs in response. Mama Rosa had just said what she has been trying to tell Tony for years, hoping that her point would drive home and that he would take better care of himself. 

"What - But I -" Tony starts and stops, eventually giving up on defending himself. 

Pepper smirks, then turns around and faces the display case. 

"We worked through our lunch break because of a meeting that went overtime. I'm thinking that it would be a good idea to have a late lunch, maybe early dinner?" she looks to Mama Rosa for guidance. 

Mama Rosa claps her hands together. "That I can help you with. How many people are we catering for?" she asks. 

"Four," Tony says, apparently done with his pouting. 

Tony moves close to Pepper, glancing down at the display case then counting the people on his fingers. 

"We're getting food for the three of us, then takeout for Happy. He can have the rest of the day off."

Mama Rosa nods in agreement. "Is there anything in particular that you feel like getting?" 

"Salad. Definitely a salad to go with whatever food Tony is going to order." Pepper says before Tony can open his mouth to place their order. 

Beside her, Tony huffs and rolls his eyes. 

"Actually, I was going to suggest a salad as a starter as well," Tony says, then sends Pepper a smug look, "This is the only place I'll ever get a salad from. Once you taste Mama Rosa's peach and burrata salad there's no going back." 

Behind the display case, Mama Rosa laughs. "He's right, my dear. Our salad is better than any other salad you'll taste." 

"Told you."

Pepper sighs deeply. "I apologize for underestimating your ordering skills. Now, can we get on with the rest of the order? I think that we can get one extra large Sicilian pizza. And a stromboli and beef and cheese manicotti to go with it," she orders. 

Mama Rosa writes something down in her notebook then gestures to a passing waitress, handing her the notebook. "Please have this prepared for our customers. And make it quick because they haven't eaten anything today." 

The waitress looks mildly horrified. Tony assumes it's because they've been working long enough at Mama Rosa's restaurant to know that she has opinions on people not eating all of their meals of the day. That and the fact that she's big on feeding everyone. 

"And for dessert?" Mama Rosa asks. 

"Can we have the chocolate-hazelnut bomboloni and pistachio cannolis please. Make it eight of each," Tony asks. 

Mama Rosa grins, showing her pleasure. 

"I made them fresh. You're lucky I still have some left over in the back, Tony." She grabs a box and starts packing the few desserts still left in the display case, talking to them all the while. "Where is that handsome boyfriend of yours, Tony? I haven't seen him in a long time."

She hands the box over to Tony, too busy with her task to see that Tony has practically frozen in his spot, eyes widened slightly. 

Pepper stiffens, swallowing heavily against the words she wants to say. 

Anything to make Tony go back to being the carefree man he was less than two minutes earlier. 

Instead, she bites her tongue, waiting to see what Tony's reply would be. 

The silence that follows Mama Rosa's question is what makes the woman stop what she's doing and look up. 

Tony blinks, coming back to himself and gives Mama Rosa a weak smile. "Yeah, uh, actually, Pepper and I were going to have lunch together with Steve. We were supposed to have lunch earlier but the meeting took forever," Tony explains. 

Pepper sighs in relief. 

Mama Rosa hums in reply, patting Tony's hand as she passes him the box. "Tell him that he has to come visit me soon. I have missed him," she says, straightening up and grabs another box, "I'll fetch the rest of your dessert from the back."

Tony thanks her distractedly, his mind still stuck on her question about Steve.

He's not so distracted that he doesn't notice Pepper pulling out her phone, either texting someone or typing up their next plans. He's relieved that she doesn't say anything. Tony doesn't want her to start a conversation that he doesn't want to have. It's not that he was ignoring the elephant in the room, he was extremely aware of it, but he doesn't want to talk about it with Pepper any longer than he had to. If he were to talk to someone, Tony'd rather talk to Rhodey. He'd understand everything that Tony was saying and everything he wasn't, too.

The waitress that had taken their order comes out with two takeaway bags, handing it over to them with a smile. "This one has the salad and the stromboli and that bag has the manicotti and pizza in it. Mama Rosa says she'll bring the rest of your dessert in a few minutes."

"Thank you," Tony thanks her. He pulls out her wallet, pulling out a couple of bills. "Here, take this. I know Mama Rosa refuses to let me pay for the meals but I always leave a tip. But don't tell her," he says.

The waitress laughs, taking the tip. "Thank you for the tip. And I'm sure that Mama Rosa is aware of the tips you leave. She's well aware of everything that happens in her restaurant," the waitress tells him.

Tony grins. "Of course she does. But she can't refuse my money if I leave a tip."

The waitress laughs again, shaking her head. She nods her head in Pepper's direction, greeting her with a smile and then takes her leave, busying herself with helping another family to an open table in the restaurant.

Mama Rosa appears a minute later, their box of desserts in one hand and a takeaway cup in her other. "Here's the rest of your desserts, dear," she says and hands the box over to Pepper who takes it with a smile. 

Mama Rosa comes around the side of the glass display and hugs each of them. "I suppose you'll have to leave now. I won't keep you up. But it was nice meeting you, Pepper. And it was good to see you again too, Tony. You better make time to visit me soon," she says.

Tony watches as Mama Rosa pulls Pepper into a tight embrace, barely hiding his amusement at how a woman smaller than Pepper was practically manhandling her into a hug. Not that Pepper was fighting against it. He knew that Mama Rosa gave the best hugs. 

He was next and he allowed himself to melt into the hug, inhaling the comforting scent of mama's perfume. She stepped back, fixing his tie. "You better visit me. Do you hear me, caro?" 

Tony rolls his eyes, but presses a kiss to her cheek. "I hear you, mi comare. I promise that I'll visit again soon."

"Good. Here, this is for you. I know how much you like my coffee."

Tony grins, accepting the proffered cup and taking a sip. "God, that's good. You need to tell me how you make your coffee."

This time Mama Rosa rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You've been saying that every time you come see me."

Behind him, Pepper laughs and he turns around, glaring at her. It only serves to make her laugh harder, since she knows he doesn't mean it. 

Pepper sobers up pretty quickly, glancing at the thin band on her wrist. "We've got to get going now, Tony. I'm sure Steve is wondering where we are. And I bet Happy isn't too happy with how long we've been inside. Mama Rosa, it was good to finally meet you."

Tony straightens up, squeezing Mama Rosa's hand. "Right then, let's go. Ciao mama. "

Pepper turns on her heel and Tony hears the bell above the door chime as she opens it, stepping outside. He's ready to follow, but Mama Rosa tugs on his sleeve.

"Is everything alright, tesoro ? You're quieter than usual. And don't think that I didn't notice the way you pulled a face when I mentioned your boyfriend. Is everything okay with him? You two aren't fighting, are you?" she questions in a low voice, sounding concerned.

Tony doesn't answer her right away, glancing at Pepper who was waiting for him outside the restaurant. "I'll be there right now, Pep. Why don't you get in the car so long?" he suggests.

Pepper looks at him for a moment, biting her lip, then nods before opening the door and climbing into the car.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Tony diverted his attention back to Mama Rosa. "What do you mean? I'm fine, Mama Rosa," he says, giving her one of his best smiles.

Mama Rosa narrows her eyes at him, crossing her arms. "Do you think I am stupid, Anthony? I may have been born at night but I wasn't born last night! You may not be my real son, but a mother knows her children, and you're my child, too. So tell me what is eating at you, Tony. I can see it is bothering you."

Tony stares into her caring eyes for a while longer, wondering not for the first time how he was so lucky to have stumbled into a couple's restaurant all those years ago and to be blessed with a woman who was practically his second mother. 

He looks away from her, shaking his head and laughs bitterly, scrubbing a hand down her face. "Steve and I aren't together anymore, Mama. So you can stop calling him my boyfriend. We could barely be called friends anymore. And I messed up. Like really, really bad, Mama," he whispers.

Mama Rosa's expression softens and she pulls him into a hug. "Oh darling. I'm sure it's not so bad. And I'm sorry for mentioning Steve. I didn't know. You know I don't read those gossip rags," she says.

Tony finds it in himself to laugh. He knew that Mama Rosa wasn't into all the gossip and fake news that seemed to circulate every time a celebrity so much as stepped out their house. 

"Well, it's not like we made it public news, mama. It was a clean break. Or it was supposed to be, but then I messed up. And it is big, no matter what you think. I have - Steve and I have a daughter. He was pregnant and didn't know. He left for a mission two days ago and was in labor for all that time. I went up to his apartment to get the mission briefing and I had to get him to go to the med floor. I've never seen him in so much pain before in all the time I've known him. And then when she came out - God, there was just this dead silence and I know that she might've been an accident, but I've never wished for something harder than I did then. I was terrified that she wasn't going to make it. She's fine right now, though. She was discharged this morning. Which is why we're all having lunch together," Tony says, then laughs again, somewhat hysterically, "I'm having lunch with my ex that I asked to move in with me so that we can co parent our baby together. That's something I never thought I'd say."

He waits with bated breath, so sure that Mama Rosa will tell him just how disappointed she was in him. 

But it doesn't come.

To her credit, all Mama Rosa does is tilt her head to one side, eyes looking out to the middle distance.

She turns to look at him suddenly. "Well, that is certainly a lot to unpack. But darling, I think that you're looking at things wrong. Did you make a mistake? Yes. And I'm sure that Steve feels the same way that you do. This child was unplanned. Nobody wants to be thrust into parenthood without at least thinking about it. Will it be difficult to parent your child with someone you are no longer in a relationship with? Also yes. But that daughter of yours will benefit from you two trying to make things work just for her. It's unfortunate timing, but I believe that God gives us what is made for us. And He has a plan for everything. Something tells me that this story of yours is not yet finished. All you have to do is try your absolute best and have faith. I can't tell you what to do, firstly because I don't believe that anything I will tell you will help you all that much and secondly, I really do believe that this is something that you and Steve have to navigate together. You'll be fine. There are a million other people in this exact same situation. It's just a matter of what you make of it," she says wisely.

Tony listens to the advice she gives him, solely because she's always been the one he's been able to go to for advice and because he doesn't have any other choice. Mama Rosa didn't allow you out of her clutches until she was done giving you her lecture or advice, whichever one you seemed to have earned.

Then Mama Rosa squeezes his bicep, giving him a smile before leaning on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "I do believe your friend is waiting for you, bambino. And I'm sure that Steve is wondering where you are. Send him my love, will you? And promise me that you won't wait until you've landed yourself in trouble before you visit me again," she says, pointing a finger at him.

Tony chuckles, feeling slightly sheepish. "I promise, mama. And I'll tell Steve that you send your regards."

"Good, now shoo!" Mama Rosa all but chases him out of her restaurant.

Tony leaves the place feeling as if a heavy weight had suddenly been lifted from his chest. 

He slipped into the car, placing the takeout bag on the seat next to him before shutting the door behind himself.

Pepper sent him a look of concern but he shook his head, giving her a smile to dissuade her worry. "Just saying goodbye, Pep. Promise everything's okay."

Up front, Happy cleared his throat, grabbing their attention. "Ready to leave, Boss?" he asked, turning to face them.

"Yup, we're all good, Hap," Tony assured him.

Happy nodded and soon they were off, heading back to the tower where Steve and Morgan were awaiting their arrival.

***

"This food smells absolutely divine. We should've cut the meeting short and gotten it sooner," Pepper says with a sigh, leaning against the wall of the elevator.

Tony snorts. "Oh, so now when you 're hungry we should cut the meeting short but when I'm hungry it's 'Tony, you should've eaten breakfast' or 'Tony, why didn't you eat?' But sure, I definitely agree. I'm starving and the smell of Mama Rosa's food isn't helping."

Pepper rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to respond but the ding of the elevator alerts them that they've arrived at the penthouse. 

They step out together, still arguing about the importance of the meeting and whether they should've had it in the first place or simply skipped and had lunch instead. As soon as they entered the living space they lowered their voices, trying not to make too much noise if Morgan happened to be asleep.

"Welcome back, Boss," FRIDAY greeted from the kitchen speakers as Tony and Pepper dropped the takeout bags on the marble countertop. "Thanks, baby girl. You been good while I was out?" he questioned with a grin, setting the bags and reaching for the cutlery in the drawer. 

"Of course. I'm always well-behaved. But I think Miss Potts will agree with me if I said that the opposite could be said of you. I think that question is better purposed for you, Boss," FRIDAY replied, sounding downright insulted.

He laughs easily and is about to respond when he hears talking coming from the living room.

Tony's brows furrow in confusion and his hands still where they were helping Pepper unpack the various takeout containers. Beside him, Pepper pauses and her eyes widen before she glances at him.

He's still trying to figure out who Steve seemed to be talking to, remembering how the man said he wanted space from the rest of the team and only responded to important texts from them. But even those were far and few in between. 

Pepper hits his arm, hard, and he flinches, ready to complain and ask her just why she feels the need to hit him so many times in one day on the same arm, but then he stops, seeing the way Pepper is miming keeping quiet.

" – can play at that game. How goes the co-parenting? Not exactly what you thought, right? Good thing you're good at adapting, Mr. Man-With-a-Plan" 

That sounded a lot like Wilson. 

There was a pause as Steve took his time with answering. Tony leans against the countertop, not bothering to pretend that he wasn't listening in.

Pepper shakes her head at him. " Tony ," she hisses at him, "It's rude to listen in on private conversations."

Tony ignores her, feeling only slightly bad for doing so and waits for Steve's reply.

He was curious, alright?

"I wasn't the one that suggested it. Tony completely sprung it on me while I was in the medbay and I was too tired to even argue. And now we're living together and supposed to raise Morgan together. Co-parenting was definitely not what I planned. I get it, I do. If I were in Tony's shoes and if I'd been through what he has I'd suggest it too. But now I feel as though this won't work, no matter how good the reason behind it," Tony hears Steve say.

He winces, briefly remembering the way he'd basically sprung the idea on Steve. And sure, the idea might've come from a good place, but he'd still completely thrown Steve off with his suggestion. 

But to actually hear Steve admit just how he felt about co-parenting and Tony's idea to do so made some part of him shrivel up and recoil. All that he wanted was to make this somewhat easier for Steve. He didn't mean to make Steve feel uncomfortable. He was partially to blame for this situation as well, and he didn't want to be one of those guys that completely gave up their parental rights and wiped their hands off their kids when they heard that their partner was suddenly pregnant or that they had a child together. 

So hearing Steve say that he didn't think parenting their child together would work out made him feel… not great, for lack of better words.  Especially because he was admitting it to someone on the team that Tony was pretty sure didn't really like him. Which, okay, he could deal with. Wilson was still pretty new to the team and they hadn't really spent much time together to get to know one another. He was more Steve's friend than anyone else's, and Tony understood why Wilson might not like him. More so now that he and Steve weren't together anymore.

"Now we're getting somewhere! Have you, you know, spoken to your therapist yet? It might help," Sam suggests.

Right. And how would you possibly explain that to your therapist? Sure, you paid them for their professional opinion and for them to actually help you understand what was going on in your own head, but a professional judgement was still a judgement. One that, if Tony were in Steve's shoes and he had to explain this entire situation would not be welcome. At all. 

Tony immediately knows that whatever he'll respond to Sam's question with is bound to sound sarcastic.

"And say what, Sam? How do I possibly start a conversation like that? When she asks, 'So, do you have anything interesting you might want to tell me?' do I tell her 'so I slept with my ex before we broke up and I gave birth to a child I didn't even know I was carrying a few days ago. Oh, and now we're currently living together to raise our child. Other than that, no, nothing interesting happened in my life. How about you?'. That couldn't possibly go across well, Sam! She'd look at me like I'm crazy! Which, to be fair, I can't exactly blame her!" Steve bursts out.

Tony snorts, shaking his head as he lets loose a chuckle. Pepper gives him a pained look.

Nailed it.

Tony sobers when he hears Sam responding.

"Steve, man, I get it. I can understand why you feel this way, but there are a million other people in the world who've experienced this and been in your shoes. It all boils down to how you handle it and what you make of it," Sam replies.

Tony can't find fault with Wilson's advice. Not when what he's saying is right.

"Not like this, Sam. Maybe I'm being ridiculous and maybe I'm blowing things out of proportion but I shouldn't have this! I have a child and I'm living with my ex. Nowhere was there a plan for this in my future. And now I'm stuck in this situation and I don't know what to do." 

Tony can pick up the frustration that bleeds into Steve's voice when he replies and hearing it makes him feel so much worse than he already does.

"What do you mean by you 'shouldn't have this?'"  Tony hears Sam ask carefully.

There's a heavy pause in which Tony briefly ponders just what Steve's response would be, but he doesn't have to wait long because then the sound of Steve's voice breaks through his more intrusive thoughts.

"As in I literally shouldn't have this, Sam. This life was never meant to be mine. I couldn't have children, Sam. And now I have a baby that I shouldn't have had in the first place and I'm living with my ex-boyfriend who's suddenly okay with us being in each other's space again. I'm still trying to wrap my head around everything and I don't get to use that as an excuse because now I have a small person who is completely dependent on me. I'm terrified that I'm going to mess up and then all of this'll disappear as soon as it appeared," Steve admits quietly.

Well, at least Tony knows what's been going through Steve's mind ever since Morgan's surprise arrival. And really, now he knows that they're both on the same page in relation to the way they're both scared shitless of making one wrong move and disrupting the already precarious situation they were in.

There's a loud exhale from Wilson before he replies. 

"Well, now we're getting somewhere. I don't know what to tell you, but I think I'm going to start off by saying something that you definitely won't like."

And what would that be? Tony was curious as to what exactly Wilson would say. There was a whole range of things that he could choose from and Tony's sure that they wouldn't be well received.

Pepper nudges him, motioning to the unopened takeout containers with a tilt of her head. Tony still can't believe that she's standing in the kitchen with him and actively listening in on a conversation clearly not meant for them. Usually she was always the one telling him not to do those kinds of things. But he guessed that this was a bit too interesting for her to simply ignore, and there was the bit that they were in too deep to step back and leave the way they came in. Steve would see them and then he'd know that they were listening in on a very private conversation.

He grabs the closest takeout container and starts to unpack the food, dishing it out onto plates as silently as he can while still straining his ears for Steve's reply.

"And what's that?"  

There's a brief silence in which neither Steve nor Wilson speaks and Tony can't help but feel that whatever Wilson will say next would either be out of line in a way only friends could be about the ones they really care about, or something to ease the obvious tension.

"I'll be as gentle as possible when I say this, but man, if you guys were going to break up with one another, why the hell didn't you use a condom? You know what they say. Wrap it before you tap it!" Sam teases, amusement clear in his tone.

Tony manages to choke on absolutely nothing and Pepper's face is practically lit up with glee as she laughs silently into her hand, shoulders shaking.

Tony scowls. Wilson's words are similar to what Rhodey would've said had he been the one to talk to Tony if the tables had been turned.

Tony raises an eyebrow at Pepper who is slowly but surely turning red as she struggles to contain her laughter, extremely unimpressed by his friend's laughter. He doesn't find it particularly funny.

And he tells her that.

"You know, I don't see what you find so funny," he says. 

Pepper gives him a mischievous grin, amusement glinting in her eyes. "Well, Sam isn't exactly wrong . You'd think you would've used that genius brain of yours before you started thinking with your –"

"I'm glad you find this so amusing, Pep, really, I do," Tony says, sounding not at all amused.

Pepper giggles again and Tony rolls his eyes.

They're so engrossed in their own conversation that they completely forget about the one that's happening in the living room, exchanging sarcastic remarks like a pair of mouthy teenagers.

Steve's voice, raised and oddly snappish, cuts through the joyful mood in the kitchen, catching them unawares and grabbing their attention immediately. A high pitched whine from Morgan joins in on the chaos not even a minute later.

The quiet laughter that left their mouths was quick to die out.

"Okay, I'm not sure if this is your way of actually saying you care, but from where I'm standing, it certainly doesn't feel like it. For the past couple of minutes all I've heard is what you think of Tony. And let me tell you, everything that you've just said is nothing worth repeating. Because I may have let you get away with your side commentary every now and again but the truth is it's been going on for months. I know that you and the others think that this is somehow all Tony's fault but you all seemed to forget that we are both adults. If you're going to ignore him or pass snide comments, you might as well add me to the list because it was both of our choices to go our separate ways and he shouldn't have to be the only one to get the cold shoulder. And I really don't appreciate everyone bringing up Tony's weapons. He did his best to move past that and the fact that you keep on bringing it up is disgusting, especially since he's had to work so hard to get people to see him other than another war profiteer," Steve says, cold anger making his words sound sharper and harsher than everything else he's said.

Tony is… surprised. But also not. He wasn't exactly immune to the heavy silences that he sometimes walked in on when Barnes, Wilson and Natasha were around, occasionally they were joined by Clint who simply sat there for the gossip. Bruce was neutral territory and chose not to get involved. Thor, when he chose to grace them with his godly presence, simply didn't care. Tony also wasn't immune to the cold shoulder he received from the Brady Bunch. 

It wasn't hard to put two and two together and get the picture that he was labelled as the bad guy.

But what does happen to catch him slightly off guard is that Steve seems to be defending him. After all the shitty things he's done and Steve was still defending him. 

Then again, Steve might not like you as a person, but he'll still defend you if he feels people are being unfair. He was strange like that.

Pepper turns wide eyes towards him, looking shocked. He doesn't reply, finding that he doesn't really have the words, so he settles for shrugging his shoulders. Sam isn't wrong. And sure, he might've missed whatever Sam had said before Steve leapt to his defence, but he's sure that whatever Sam had said about him was true.

It doesn't mean that the rest of the team hating him doesn't sting, though. The thought hurts.

Pepper, surprisingly, doesn't seem to think the same. Not even a second ago she had looked at him in shock as they overheard Steve coming to his rescue after whatever Sam had said about him, but now she looked angry. Righteous indignation hardened her features and a determined gleam shone in her eyes.

Tony hastily puts his hand on her wrist, stopping her from doing something irrational like walking into the living room and giving Sam a piece of her mind.

That would be a disaster.

Not to mention, Steve would be angry at them for listening in on a private conversation.

He shook his head, putting a finger to his lips. "But –" Pepper began, only to deflate and settle against the kitchen counter, her hands fluttering between the various dishes and takeaway containers.

"Okay, I apologize for any and every comment that I've made about Stark. I get that he moved away from the weapons business and I acknowledge all the good changes he's made. But I can't forgive him for treating my friend the way he did. You may be able to push it aside because you don't think you're worth all that trouble but I won't forgive it so easily. I can try to be more… open-minded when it comes to him but I can't promise anything for the others," Sam says after a heavy beat of silence.

Tony sees Pepper throw her hands up from the corner of his eyes but elects to ignore it in favor of listening in on the conversation happening in his living room.

He hears Steve sigh irritably and he can't help the smile that teases at his lips. God, but he remembers just how Steve would scrunch up his face whenever he was irritated. Tony never admitted it, but the reason why some of the arguments between them ended so quickly was because he could never find it in himself to be mad at Steve for too long, especially when Steve pulled a face, his nose scrunching up in the most adorable way ever. And really, how could you be mad when your partner was that cute? 

So he was terrible at holding onto his irritation and frustration when Steve was involved. Who could blame him, really?

"Sam, we didn't work out. Did I wish we did? Of course. But I can't change it. And I'm not sure it's such a good idea." Steve sounded downright exhausted by the conversation.

And Tony, well, Tony was rendered speechless. He didn't know what to say.

Steve wished that they worked out? Really? As in, he wished they were still together at this moment?

Clearly he wasn't the only one who heard – or had he misheard – what Steve said because Pepper comes to a standstill, her busy hands now laid flat on the counter as she faces him with her mouth open in shock. 

So he hadn't heard wrong then.

But what if Steve hadn't meant to say that, though? What if he meant that they'd stayed friends? They had promised each other that they'd stay friends after they broke up and neither of them managed to keep their promise.

Tony had nothing to say.

What does he even say after something like that?

"Steve -" 

Steve was quick to end the conversation. Tony isn't surprised. If Tony was in that situation and he was facing Rhodey, who was equally, if not more involved in his life than Wilson seemed to be in Steve's, he'd probably do the same.

"I have to go. Pepper and Tony will be home soon and Morgan's getting fussy," Tony hears Steve say.

It was quiet in the living room for a beat, then two. 

Tony spies Pepper trying to peek into the living room from behind the wall separating the kitchen from where Steve was sitting. He doesn't bother to stop her since he knows she won't do anything to give away the fact that they were listening in.

Besides, he was too invested in the conversation between Wilson and Steve to have it ending prematurely.

Tony hears Sam sigh. 

"Yeah, okay. But don't go being a stranger again, man. Promise me you'll let me come visit? Or you can come over. I'm sure Barnes will be happy to see you too. He's been acting even more like an asshole than ever lately. Bring the baby with. Kids love me and I have to meet my goddaughter sometime."  

"I - Yes. I'll come over soon," Steve agrees half-heartedly.

Tony could just picture the grin on Wilson's face, the way he'd smile all big and easy, the gap between his teeth showing in a display of happiness.

Which, Tony's sure, is because Wilson didn't hear Steve's half-hearted reply. At least, the message that Steve didn't want to visit anyone any time soon had completely gone over his head. Tony is certain that Wilson also never got the fact that Steve's excuse of having to end the call because he and Pepper coming home for lunch was extremely flimsy.

"Great, man! That's all I ask. Enjoy your lunch."

A quiet seemed to descend over the entire penthouse.

Tony couldn't hear anything save for the erratic beat of his heart that thumped loudly in his ears. Pepper was eerily still.

If Tony strained his ears, he could make out Steve trying to get Morgan to stop fussing. He assumed that she was about ready for her nap now.

Babies were well known for their abilities to sleep for hours on end. And they fussed and cried if their sleeping schedule was changed, disturbed or delayed by even a couple of seconds.

Tony was torn between staying hidden and rushing into the living room to help Steve. But his need to stay on Steve's good side won out and he stayed right where he was in the kitchen. He didn't want Steve to know that he and Pepper had walked in on his and Sam's conversation and then stayed to hear the entire thing.

Steve would be embarrassed. And beyond furious. 

And besides, there was the little issue on how exactly he and Pepper managed to get into the kitchen without being warned beforehand about the conversation that they would be interrupting and therefore listening in on, especially since Tony coded his A.I's by hand and knows that it's in their duties to forewarn others before entering a room, say, if someone was partially undressed or having a private conversation that not everyone was privy to.

Which is incredibly strange seeing that they weren't warned by FRIDAY. 

And, come to think of it, FRIDAY hadn't even told them to be quiet because Steve was on a call when they set foot in the penthouse. Take into account that their view of Steve from the elevator was blocked and the fact that Steve couldn't hear them all the way from the elevator and they couldn't hear him until they got to the kitchen, which was relatively closer to the living room than the elevator was to the living room, well, everything starts to add up.

FRIDAY was extremely disobedient for an A.I that was built to follow orders. But then again, Tony had built his A.I's to mirror human behaviour and learn through observing. If anything, Tony has himself to blame for being caught in the predicament he was currently stuck in.

That doesn't mean that he wasn't slightly irritated with FRIDAY, though. Was it too much to ask for a simple lunch without any drama occurring before they had all sat down together face to face?

Tony hears the faint sound of Steve's footsteps leading away from the living room, no doubt heading to Morgan's nursery to put her down for her nap.

He motions silently to Pepper to grab a dish of food and head out to the living room. She catches on to what he's saying and huffs out a breath before grabbing the dish and cutlery noisily with her free hand. 

Together they make their way to the living room and start to lay the table in preparation for lunch.

A mixture of dread and anticipation stirs in the pit of Tony's stomach and he feels slightly nauseous. 

He swallows heavily against the feeling and carries on with his task, eyeing Pepper over the table. 

"I'm pretty sure we were set up. Like, willing-to-bet-all-my money sure. And I'm not sure that I like it."

Pepper rolls her eyes. "Well, you wouldn't. Not if it means you're the one being set up," she whispers back.

Tony sighs and turns to face the nearest camera set up in the corner of the room. "Hey, FRIDAY, you didn't have a hand in any of this, did you? As in, you weren't aware that Steve was having a private conversation and neglected to warn us, right? Because by us walking in, pretty sure we heard a whole lot of things we weren't meant to."

There's a beat of silence and then FRIDAY replies, her Irish lilt matching the quiet tone of his own. "Of course not, Boss. I wasn't aware that the Captain was going to indulge Sam in a video call this afternoon as previous data logged points to the fact that he wouldn't have answered before. And I resent the implication that I did not fulfill my duty correctly, Mr Stark, and I believe you owe me an apology," FRIDAY informs him, the hidden speakers picking up on her disdainful sounding sniff. 

Tony shakes his head in disbelief. He didn't believe for a second that she wasn't aware of what she was doing. FRIDAY saw and heard everything .

"Sure you didn't know about it. But, I apologize. You do a wonderful job of running the tower."

Turning his head so that the camera won't pick up on it, he mouths the words "she knew what she was doing" to Pepper.

Pepper shrugs. "Well, FRIDAY is most certainly a smart girl. Even if she knew what she was doing, you messed things up between you and Steve. And it's up to you to fix your mistakes. Looks like you have your work cut out for you," she says nonchalantly.

Tony gapes at her, unable to form a proper response.

He's unsure of whether to feel relieved or not when Steve comes back to the living room, clearly surprised to see them.

Pepper is the first to greet him, a huge smile on her face as she gives him a hug.

Steve instantly lights up, no hesitation in his movements as he returns her hug.

Watching Steve and Pepper interact with one another as if they haven't seen each other in years – which is closer to the truth than Tony likes to admit, especially since he'd all but forced Pepper into a difficult position since he and Steve ended their relationship – and Steve's happy grin, Tony is suddenly aware of just how much work he has laid ahead of him.

He has to fix his mistakes.

It's a grim realization. One that dampens the good mood that seeing Mama Rosa had put him in.

But it does him no good to dwell on things that he had done in the past.

All that he can do now is try to fix things with Steve.

For once and for all.

Chapter Text

Lunch goes great, surprisingly. Everyone is civil and friendly with one another; jokes are shared and even a few laughs let loose. 

It's still not what it would've been like if you'd gone back a couple of months to when he and Steve were together, but it's to be understood.

Progress was never fast. But little progress is still progress. 

Through lunch Tony sits back and watches Pepper and Steve interact with one another, only adding a few words in here and there to make it seem like he's actually part of the conversation while also not commandeering the entire thing. 

He thinks that Steve needed to see one of his friends. And if not Bucky or Sam or Natasha, Pepper was also one of his friends and was the next best bet. It was good for him. Pulls him out of his head a little.

It still won't fix anything between them, and there were certainly a lot of things on Steve's mind, that much was clear from the conversation that he and Pepper had overheard, but it was one step closer.

And obviously he and Steve had to sit down and talk about those things eventually, since there was a lot to unpack. But the time for that wasn't right now.

Tony just had to bide his time. Perhaps it would be best if he thought over the things that he heard Steve admit to Sam. 

He definitely had to process the fact that Steve had feelings for him. Still had feelings for him. And how he felt about that.

And what he could possibly do with that information.

The first step to fixing things between him and Steve, Tony decides after spending most of lunch silently mulling things over in his head, is to call Rhodey.

Rhodey always knew what to do and what to say to make him feel better.

Pepper leaves half an hour after lunch has ended and all the plates have been stacked. She kisses them each goodbye on the cheek and promises to be back soon, swiping a gentle finger down Morgan's face with a tender smile.

When Steve's eyes stray over to Morgan, Pepper leans over and whispers in Tony's ear so Steve won't hear. "Don't mess things up any more than they already are. I'm here if you need me, but if you make things worse I'm not sure if I could ever make things better again. And I think you need to take some time and think over things before making any rash decisions. Be good to Steve and Morgan."

It doesn't need to be said that Tony got Pepper's message loud and clear. 

First thing to fixing whatever shit he caused would be to phone Rhodey.

***

" -lo? Tones?" A couple of seconds go by and then a hoarse voice sounds over the line. Rhodey. Tony winces, feeling bad for pulling his friend from his sleep.

Tony inhales deeply, psyching himself up for the call that he initiated. 

"Rhodes! For a minute I thought you weren't going to answer." He exclaims cheerfully. Despite not looking forward to the call and the conversation that was going to occur, Tony was excited to hear from Rhodey. It had been too long since they last spoke to one another, what with Rhodey being on a mission and then his own busy schedule with S.I.

"Tony, man, I swear, this better be a damn emergency. Do you know what the time is over here? If you're calling just to tell me about the latest sentient toaster or slinky-that-never-tangles that you invented in the last two hours, I'm going to tell you to hang up the phone, march that sleep-deprived body of yours to bed to get the sleep it needs and to call me later at a time that is not the asscrack of whatever to tell me all about your newest inventions, okay? It's late and I need my sleep, man." Rhodey says, still sounding sleep-muddled but managing to convey his slight irritation at being woken up in the middle of the night.

"Okay, first of all, I resent that your immediate thought was that I was phoning you to tell you about my latest invention, Honey-bear. I don't always call you just to tell you about what I made." Tony pauses, head spinning with ideas. "But now that you mention it, I need to get on that ASAP. A sentient toaster that can tell when bread is perfectly toasted without burning? The world would go crazy. And a slinky that never gets tangled up will definitely soothe some part of my traumatic childhood. I spent hours trying to detangle my slinky." Tony points out. 

"Tones, you never played with toys. Your preferred playground was Howard's lab and the scrap wires he had lying around. Also, the sentient toaster was not a suggestion of things you could come up with. I'm literally begging you not to make it, and if you love me you'd forget I'd even brought it up. The things that could go wrong with that invention is insurmountable. Moving on from your disastrous ideas, I know you well enough to know that you're stalling. Stop stalling. What happened? And what metaphorical or literal fires do I have to put out now?" Rhodey asks him, not bothering to beat about the bush and jumping straight to the crux of the matter. He always did know when Tony was diverting attention from the bigger problem at hand.

Tony feels oddly called out. But he's also not ready to tell Rhodey just yet. He's slightly nervous as to how his best friend would take the news.

"Because I love you, I'm going to ignore the fact that that was yet another jab at my less than stellar childhood. Of course I played with toys other than wires and whatever scraps that were lying around. And when Jarvis was alive he was always willing to endure hours of playtime." Tony says, hoping that it would keep Rhodey's attention for a bit and he'd steer the conversation in that direction. 

Rhodey doesn't take the bait.

"Tony." 

"Okay, fine, Rhodey," Tony huffs out. 

"Do you remember that stupid pact we made back in college? The one where we were both drunk off our asses and spouting the usual bull? We promised each other that if we were both forty and still single then we'd get hitched. Buy a house and adopt a couple of kittens and all that jazz," he says, waving a hand in the air as he speaks. Tony's spinning lazily in his office chair that he'd dragged down to the lab, the one with the wheels and back that spun wildly when pushed too hard, and watching as the blue lights blur into a million stars and form patterns on the lab ceiling.

" Yesss," Rhodey answers dubiously . "But what does that have to do with anything? I mean, pact still stands. We could get hitched whenever, I'm free next week, got two week leave and all that, and I know city hall is always open, but don't expect me to kiss and put out for you, bro. It was more of a 'let's get married so we're not alone' and less of a 'let's get married because I love you more than a friend'. Strictly no homo. But I know that you know that, so carry on with the point you were trying to make."

There's silence over the line as Tony thinks of what he's going to say next, and he can faintly make out the sounds of Rhodey puffing his pillow and getting comfortable in his bed.That only proves to make him more nervous, but if he doesn't tell Rhodey tonight then when was he ever going to tell him? It wouldn't be ideal to simply introduce him to Morgan the next time he came to town. 

"...I mean, I wouldn't put out for you either. I love you but not in that way. Also, don't pretend that even if it were homo you wouldn't want to marry me anyway. Can you imagine all the brownie points you'd get with the Air Force if you got Tony Stark in the sack?  They always did try to convince you to get me to design things for them. I distinctly remember them sending me a nice letter asking for another War Machine suit. But! I'm going off topic. So we said that we'd get hitched if we were still single, get a coupla' cats and maybe a kid later on down the line, right?" Tony finds that he's doubting himself, wondering if that was even part of the pact they made all those years ago while in college. Did they say they'd adopt a kid? Something about giving a child without a home one that they could call their own. That was after the death of his parents, and the pact was heavily influenced by it, but he's sure that they could've said something along those lines to one another.

"We did, yes. But, Tony, you're only forty-six. I thought we were both ignoring the number after your birthday last year. We're both well past forty. There's still plenty of time for you to get married and have kids, never mind the stupid pact we made. And last time I checked, you weren't looking for another relationship," Rhodey points out matter-of-factly. 

"I'm not looking for a relationship. At least, I think I'm not. But uh, let's say I managed to do one of the three things from the pact we made, what would you say?" Tony questions. He stops spinning in his chair, getting dizzy from the wild movement and stills, then begins drumming his fingers on his leg as he waits for Rhodey to respond.

He doesn't wait too long because Rhodey answers him two seconds later.

"I'd tell you I'm so glad you finally got over your weird hangups with pets and managed to adopt a kitten. Unless, we're not talking about you adopting a pet and you got engaged recently. In which case I'd tell you that you should've told me a long time ago and not over the phone. Because friends tell each other things like that face to face and not over the phone," Rhodey says slowly and Tony can immediately see where his best friend's train of thought was heading. And it was not heading in the direction he was hoping for.

"Okay, well, I'm not engaged. Because who the fuck would want to get saddled with someone like me, and also, I find it insulting that you even think I'd tell you that I'd gotten engaged over the phone. Hell, if I got engaged I'd fly you down here just to tell you," Tony says. He doesn't mean to come off as affronted, but, well, he is. He'd never get engaged without telling Rhodey first. And when he did tell Rhodey it wouldn't be over the phone.

"Okay, point made. Sorry for jumping to conclusions, but what other point did you think I'd reach with all the rambling you've been doing? I'm trying my best to stay awake here, man, and the longer you ramble the harder it's making my job. I'm trying to be supportive but sleep is calling," Rhodey says, sounding somewhat exasperated. Tony notices how his words sound more like a whine than anything else, but wisely chooses not to point it out.

"Well, thanks , honey bunches, I appreciate you not falling asleep on me," Tony says sarcastically. 

"You're very welcome." 

Tony rolls his eyes, then sits straighter in his chair. He needed to be serious and get to the point.

"No, you know what, I need to get in some sleep too before I'm woken up in, like, an hour. These cluster feedings are a bitch. So, uh, here's what I called to tell you. Congrats, you're an uncle. Again, seeing as your sister already has kids, but, semantics." 

Dead silence.

Then a bang and a curse from Rhodey's end of the line as he sits up in bed and clicks on the light.

"Cluster feedings?" Rhodey exclaims, then pauses, "Wait, are you being serious?" 

"How?" Rhodey questions again. Shocked. 

"Well, Sugar plum, when two people love each other very much – " 

"Okay, zip it. I mean, how did this happen? You weren't with anyone recently. Unless it was from one of the times you decided to party a little too hard and just found out you're a father and the mother is an unknown face in a sea of blurred faces from one of your events," Rhodey says sarcastically. 

Tony rolls his eyes, then rubs a hand down his face, sighing heavily.

"No, you're right. I wasn't with anyone recently. And I haven't slept with anyone in awhile. I haven't even thought about sleeping with someone, Rhodes." 

"... there's a lot to be unpacked there, but I'm electing to ignore it and making a mental note to remind you to tell all of this to your therapist later on," Rhodey tells him.

Despite the seriousness of their conversation, Tony can't help the twitch of his lips and smiles into the air of his lab where Rhodey can't see.

"I have my third appointment of this month next week, if it makes you happy," he points out.

Rhodey chuckles.

"It does. Now I don't have to be your unpaid therapist anymore. God alone knows that if you paid me to hear all your problems I would be nearly as rich as you." 

A tense silence descends on them and Tony can hear Rhodey's steady breathing through the sounds of the odd whirring and spinning of the machinery in the lab.

It unsettles him and makes him nervous.

Was that it? No yelling or long winded lectures?

"Back to the point. You're oddly calm for someone who just got told that Tony Stark, the one person on this earth who definitely should not be having any kids, is suddenly a father. Even Pepper had more yelling and long silences between sentences than you did. I swear she was looking for things to say to me. You're not surprised? You don't even want to know who it is? Or if you have a godson or god daughter? Nothing?" Tony questions, voice bordering on hysterical. Rhodey's lack of proper reaction is enough to make him feel the beginnings of a panic attack. He has to remind himself to breathe evenly and stave off whatever panicky thoughts that are floating around his head so things don't spin out of his control.

At least, not any more than things already had.

"Oh, trust me, I'm far from calm, kinda freaking out on the inside. But, it's not a bad freak out. More like a mild freak out. It's Steve, isn't it? He's the other parent, isn't he? Timing works out and well, if you're saying that you haven't been sleeping with anyone, and I know that you haven't slept with anyone since him, that leaves him as the only option. I'm not even a little mad that you told Pepper first, by the way. She would've known how to deal with these things. And since I'm literally on the other side of the world, I wouldn't have been too much of a help had you told me first," Rhodey says bluntly. Matter-of-fact. 

Tony doesn't know how to respond to that. He knows that Rhodey is right. He usually is about these things. 

"So tell me, do I have a godson or a goddaughter to spoil?" 

Tony grins, and he knows it's one of the achingly sappy ones that he's been doing ever since he found out about Morgan. He's proud of her, damnit, and more importantly, she's his. 

"A goddaughter. Name's Morgan and she's the sweetest and calmest baby I have ever seen. Rhodey. Jim, I just – how does this not even phase you?" Tony asks. Whatever doubt he has – even if it has lessened by a significant  amount since the start of his phonecall with Rhodey – still burrows its way through his pride over his daughter. And though it's starting to sound as if Rhodey is just as excited at the prospect of being an uncle as Tony is to be a father, there's no way that Tony can just trust that Rhodey is happy. That he's okay with everything.

Because he may be forty five years old – nearly forty-six, it wasn't his birthday yet, – but the angst-ridden, insecurity-laced kid that he was all of those years ago and struggling to keep afloat during his time at MIT still looked up to Rhodey as his knight in shining armor. Pardon the pun.

He was still looking to Rhodey to guide him when he felt lost. He still wanted Rhodey's opinion, and more importantly, his approval. 

They were more than friends. Brothers, really. And he felt like the younger brother that he was and that Rhodey treated him as.

He doesn't want Rhodey to be disappointed in him because he found himself in this situation.

And that was the crux of the entire matter.

Besides the fact that he felt as though he'd failed Steve all those months ago up to and including the time when they broke up, and now recently, too.

"Easy. The only time things stress me out is when someone's being an asshole over something, there's a deadline or if I make myself stressed over nothing. And since you're doing a great deal of overthinking, I'm  willing to bet that you're also stressed." Rhodey says easily. Tony can imagine him shrugging his shoulders in his mind's eye. 

It still doesn't make him feel as though his 'overthinking' is the cause of his stress. Because frankly, he thinks his stress and overthinking is perfectly justified now that he has Morgan to think about. She's in his every waking and not-so-awake thoughts. And so is Steve. 

"Of course I'm stressed! I have a very tiny baby to suddenly look after, and absolutely  no idea how to even look after her! Not to mention, a child was never in the cards. I never expected to suddenly be a father. I mean, I didn't really want kids, but I didn't not want them either. I love Morgan, will walk to the ends of this earth for her, but it doesn't change that I made peace with the fact that I was never going to be a father. She was never supposed to happen, and while I admit I was disappointed, I made peace with it. And maybe it was a good idea seeing as Steve and I never really lasted. But everything kinda bit me in the ass and now I have a kid. How do you even process any of this?" Tony asks, blowing out a heavy breath. He kicks at the desk that's bolted in the floor, allowing him to spin slowly in the chair. 

Tony watches the blue lights blur before his eyes as he waits for Rhodey's response.

"Well," Rhodey says slowly, "that is a lot to be stressed over. And I'm not saying your train of thinking is unwarranted, but I do have to say that it's kind've spiralling out of control. You've been dealt a hand that you have no idea what to do with, and I get that it's scary because you're so used to things being in your control, but you have to understand that you can't be in control all of the time. Life is going to throw curveballs at you. In case you haven't noticed, life isn't exactly predictable. I don't even have to ask you how you're doing because I already know. I bet you've been driving yourself crazy with all the how's and what-ifs and I need you to stop doing that. Because you'll make yourself sick. And a sick Tony Stark is not something I want to deal with. You're insufferable and miserable when you're sick, man, and I need you to take a deep breath and relax. Calm your mind and whatever thoughts are going through your head so you don't get sick with worry. It's not easy, but you need to do it for yourself, especially now that you have a child to look after. You don't want Steve to parent her alone while you're outta commission because you made yourself sick with worry, do you?" Rhodey asks. Tony knows it's a rhetorical question, and he knows exactly what point Rhodey is trying to drive home.

He also knows that Rhodey is using his own train of thought against him to make him see things more clearly.

"I see what you're doing and I have to say, Jim-Jam, that's a low blow. Of course I'm not going to get sick. And I won't leave Steve to look after Morgan alone. I'm not going to be one of those absent, asshole fathers. The reason why she's here is because it's my fault, too. Not that she's a mistake, but, you get what I'm trying to say."

Rhodey huffs out an exasperated laugh.

"I do, and I'm proud of you for sticking to your guns and stepping up to the plate. A lot of other guys out there would've run away. Not all of them, but there are more than you know. I'm glad that you're trying to work this entire thing out with Steve, man. Both of you deserve to get some closure. I won't pretend that I know what happened, just the pieces that you told me when I got you drunk enough, that you guys were together one minute and then the next you were both on separate floors and avoiding eye contact. Your break-up was unexpected, for all of us, but I think more for the pair of you. I think that neither of you knows why the other wanted to break up and that whatever reason the two of you thought of to justify the end of something good was simply bullshit, but who am I to stick my nose in where it doesn't belong?"

Tony shakes his head, blinking against the lights that were starting to blur before his eyes.

"– Yeah, well, you're always sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong. I find it endearing, Honey-bear." He, wisely, chooses not to dwell on the rest of what Rhodey said. He doesn't think he can. 

Rhodey laughs again.

"Yeah, yeah. Just – I know this is hard. I understand where you're coming from. Can't say that I have any good advice for you because I haven't been in your shoes, but give Steve some time, okay? I know that you're struggling with all of this. And don't even try to deny it, man. I'm your friend and I can see these things. All I'm saying is that you need to try and sort out whatever is going on between you and Steve. Because if you're  struggling, and you could barely get off your ass to phone me and tell me about the kid you fathered, then I can imagine just how much harder this all is for Steve. Guy may be Captain America and all that jazz but beneath that cowl of his he's still human with his own hang ups. I understand that you told me the two of you couldn't have kids together because it wasn't possible and now you suddenly have a baby to parent, so just imagine what he must be going through. I'm not saying that you should completely step back, just to give him some space and not overwhelm him. He's probably still reeling from everything. He's going to be tired. Exhausted, really. I know that from when my sister's kids were born. She was tired all the time. Slept nearly a whole day whenever I babysat but could never seem to catch enough sleep despite all the help she was getting. If he's tired and you see him struggling, don't offer to help him. Do it without asking. New parents aren't going to want to dump their kid on others, and they aren't going to ask for help, so it's up to you to read the room and step in when needed. Even when Steve isn't tired, just help him. And when the both of you are tired, I'm sure the rest of the team will step in. Because that's what family does. They help one another."

Tony nods, even though he knows Rhodey can't see and swallows against a hard lump that had lodged in the back of his throat. He doesn't know why he's so fucking emotional when he wasn't the one who gave birth a couple of days ago and still has leftover hormones in their system. But what Rhodey had to say to him really hit home. And he never really knew what to do until he spoke to Rhodey. 

Rhodey could read him like a book. He never had to say anything. And what little he did say, Rhodey could always read between the lines and immediately understand what he wasn't saying.

He opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it again when he can't find the exact words he wants to use.

"...I'm surprised you're not yelling at me more. Usually there's a lot more yelling and disappointed sighs and eye-rolling on your end," Tony eventually settles on saying. It's not what he was planning on saying, but Rhodey knows him well enough by now to realize that he struggles with these things, so.

"Tony, I don't yell at you. I simply talk very loudly. I exclaim. With you, there's always gotta be something coming outta the left park. I've known you since college, I have to have at least some sort of idea of the shit you always seem to get yourself into if there's nobody watching you like a goddamn hawk. And right now, sure, I didn't expect this, but it's all kinda on the extreme scale. Like all of the things I've experienced ever since I opened the room to our dorm and saw this doe-eyed kid acting too big for his boots but was really just a softy looking for a friend. If you really want some other response from me then you can wait until tomorrow morning after I've gotten some sleep. Again, you've managed to call me in the middle of the night when I've come back from a long three day training course. I'll roll my eyes and yell at you tomorrow morning after my brain has had time to absorb what you've just told me," Rhodey tells him.

Tony shuts his eyes tightly, feeling a smile break out on his face. It's small, tentative, but there nonetheless. And it's full of unspoken gratitude for his friend.

"I don't know what else to say, but thanks, Honey-bear," Tony whispers thickly. 

He feels a whole lot more calm now than he did earlier. And things are more clear to him, too.

"You're welcome, Tones. I'm flying out to see you in two days, alright? No arguing with me either because this isn't a debate. Also, please refrain from getting yourself into any more trouble until I'm stateside again, okay? We're both getting too old for this shit. I'm gonna get some shut eye before I have to wake up again. Not that I have enough time to sleep anymore, seeing as someone doesn't understand the concept of time or timezones," Rhodey emphasizes loudly.

Tony laughs, sliding his finger across the screen and ends the call.

Chapter Text

Tony's supposed to have been in his office on S.I.'s floors a while ago. He's not exactly avoiding it, he genuinely forgot in between fixing a few mistakes on R&D's new prototypes down in his lab, but now that he remembered, he's dragging his feet a little.

The penthouse is extremely quiet for having three occupants, one of which is a newborn who does nothing but eat, sleep and cry. 

So Tony does find it odd when he leaves his lab and walks through the penthouse, fixing his cufflinks as he goes and hearing nothing but silence.

He stops in his tracks. 

Where were Steve and Morgan? 

Usually, the blond could be seen around the apartment, either with Morgan sleeping in his arms or wailing for her bottle feed. 

Tony walks down the hallway between the master and guest bedrooms, peeking his head into Morgan's nursery. The room is dark, the blinds pulled down so that little light filters through. Morgan's nightlight, one that Tony had made when he couldn't sleep, casts glowing shapes onto the walls. 

Steve must've put her down for her mid-morning nap. 

The nursery is silent except for the small sounds that Morgan makes as she snuffles to herself.

Tony steps into the room, footsteps featherlight so as not to startle her. He can tell that she's about to start fussing soon from the way that her face is pulled and he doesn't want her to cry.

He hurries over to Morgan's crib when he sees her scrunch up her face and open her mouth, presumably to start crying.

"Hey, hey, hey, sweetheart. Come on, now, no crying. I've got you. Daddy's got you, okay?" Tony talks to her as he scoops her up and out of the crib, pulling her close to his chest and rocking her gently.

He smooths a hand down her back and hums to her softly, a tuneless melody to a song he briefly remembers his mother singing to him and notes how Morgan's tiny heaving chest slows down, hitching breath coming to a halt.

He waits for a bit, still bouncing on his feet and humming softly, breathing in the smell of newborn baby.

Morgan wiggles in his hold and Tony can't tell if she's still uncomfortable and fussy or if she's winding down and getting comfortable in his arms, but he carries on humming and rocking from one side to the other nonetheless.

Eventually, her whimpers taper off and she stills in his grip, wide brown eyes peering at him and her surroundings in a show of curiosity that only babies and small children were known to do.

Tony is enthralled. Really, truly amazed at the fact that he was holding his child. His daughter. She was so beautiful. And clearly, she had inherited the biggest portion of his genes because she resembled the pictures of him when he was a whole lot younger, a toddler, really. She had the features of a Stark, and if you examined her closely, her roots could be traced back to her Italian heritage; the Carbonell's. 

She looked like a mini version of his mother. 

Tony can't help but smile down at her, grabbing her tiny hand in between his fingers. She wraps her hand around his fingers and Tony melts even more, that part of his heart that he thought to be incapable of love letting down its walls and simply oozing with a mix of emotions. 

It's then that Tony gets a glance at his watch, noting that he was more than twenty minutes late. Tony just can't find it in himself to care. Morgan was more important than the stack of paperwork that was waiting on his desk, needing to be signed. And besides, it's not like there was a timer on the paperwork. So long as he got it signed and sent it to Pepper before this evening, she'd be happy with him. 

Besides, he's sure that if he was late for anything, it was better to be late doing something for Morgan than being late by wasting time on his way to S.I's floors downstairs. 

He grabs Morgan's pacifier and one of the many stuffed toys that Pepper got her – one of those that rattled whenever you shook it – and went on a search for Steve.

Surely Morgan was due for a feed? Tony wasn't willing to let her simply lie in her crib without getting her to Steve in time for her feed. Morgan would no doubt become fussy soon, and Steve wasn't her sole parent, so it was time for Tony to step up a bit.

Tony walks further down the hallway to Steve's room.

As he gets closer, he sees that the door wasn't completely shut but rather slightly ajar. 

It's strange to see, especially since he knows that if Steve's inside his room, he always closes the door behind him. At least, recent observations have shown that to him. Before, when they weren't so aware of the space between them and how they shared space, Steve used to leave the door open. He never minded. 

Now that they were in each other's spaces again, designated 'private' spaces were strictly prohibited. 

So Tony hesitated before Steve's door, feeling slightly at a loss at what to do. Does he knock? Doesn't he knock? Should he warn Steve before he enters? The door was ajar but not actually closed. Closed means not welcome, but this wasn't a 'you're not welcome'.  

Tony glances down at Morgan. Besides the way that she was steadfastly ignoring his internal panic, she seemed content in his arms. 

Not that it would last long.

She was due for a feed soon. Maybe in five or ten minutes. But babies never kept track of time and the only way they let you know what they wanted was through wailing like they were being tortured. That or the gut-wrenching sobs that they often let loose. 

He wasn't a fan of either of those types of cries.

Even so, Tony is sure that FRIDAY would've warned Steve that he was outside his door. 

Tony tentatively pushes on Steve's door, the feeling that he shouldn't bother him not fully leaving him.

He waits for a second to see if Steve would yell at him for entering his room without permission or for invading his privacy, but he's met with the sound of absolute silence. 

Tony immediately sees why.

Steve, bless his exhausted soul, is passed out on the bed, fully dressed. Dark circles ring his eyes and even in his sleep, he doesn't look restful.

Steve's hair is splayed out on the pillow, the slightly longer than usual blond strands uncharacteristically messy. Tony itches to run his hand through it, knowing that it would be soft beneath his fingers. And he remembers how Steve would always relax whenever he played with his hair, all the tension and stress easing from his broad shoulders and the frown etched on his face during the day would melt into shy, easy smiles as he became comfortable once more.

He… misses it.

Tony misses the ease with which he could come home from work and Steve would be there, also tense and stressed but there. Always ready to listen despite his own frustration that flowed over from a hard day of work at SHIELD. 

Tony misses having someone there for him. He misses the domesticity that he had grown used to. 

But now isn't the time to dwell on the loneliness of his own doing.

Morgan needs to be fed and Steve was clearly out of commission.

The supersoldier, even with his super serum flowing in his veins, was still human. And humans were prone to exhaustion. Add a newborn who woke up periodically during the night and you'll have a recipe for permanent exhaustion. 

Tony backtracks, stepping softly so as not to alert Steve to his presence, and pauses, unsure of what to do next.

He glances down at Morgan, seeing that she was still content with playing with her fingers, then makes a decision.

More importantly, it's Rhodey's words 'If he's tired and you see him struggling, don't offer to help him. Do it without asking.' that echoes in his head.

Steve was obviously tired and struggling. He needed help.

Tony juggles her in his arms, trying not to jostle her too much in case she startles and begins that awful bawling that babies were known to do, and reaches into his pocket for a piece of paper.

He struggles for a bit, growing frustrated when he can't feel anything but knowing that there had to be some sort of scrap paper there, especially when he always carried something to draw on whenever he had to go to the office. 

His fingers brush against something that feels like paper and he grins, pulling it out.

Tony sets the paper on Steve's drawer, grabs the fountain pen lying there, and scribbles a quick message for him to find when he wakes up.

Steve,

I took Morgan with me down to S.I.'s floors so that she wouldn't be alone. I didn't want to wake you and she was due for a feed soon.

Don't worry about anything. I've got it handled. I'll be up in an hour or two.

Tony x

He takes one last look at the note he wrote, checking for any details he might've forgotten to add, and when he deems it perfect, steps away from the dresser quietly so as not to jostle anything and wake Steve.

Then he tiptoes out of the room, closing the door behind him.

He walks back to Morgan's nursery to grab her diaper back and slips it over his shoulder, then hurries to his room to fetch a few documents he had been working on late the night before. He slips them into Morgan's bag and makes his way to the kitchen to get out one of the bottles that Steve had pumped earlier and heat it slightly so that when Morgan finally decided she was hungry, the bottle would be ready and he wouldn't need to rush back upstairs to get it.

The bottle didn't take long to heat and Tony gave the apartment a once over, going over everything he might need.

"Well, guess it's just you and me then, Little Miss," he says, finding nothing that he might've missed.

Tony presses a kiss to her head of hair, inhaling the scent of baby powder, and together they descend to the lower floors of the tower where some of the S.I. personnel operated.

***

"You see, Maguna? This is where Daddy works. Well, most of the time. Your Aunt Pepper is always trying to get me to stay in the office longer. She likes to give me lots of paperwork, which I'm one hundred percent certain she knows I do not, in fact, like doing. But, we've managed to compromise. I can stay in the tower and not have to go into the office – yet another thing I do not like unless I get to visit R&D. That's Research and Design, by the way, where all the fun stuff happens. I'm sure you'll like it if you're anything like me. – so long as I do some paperwork and go to a few board meetings in the lower levels of the tower. Which is where we currently are," Tony explains, rocking Morgan slightly in his arm.

Morgan blinks contentedly up at him, burrowing further into his hold. 

Tony smiles at her, then leans down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Come on, let's go. I'm sure your Aunt Pepper is getting antsier the longer she has to wait on my paperwork."

He walks down the hallway towards the conference room, noting that it was both empty and blissfully silent. 

Tony settles in fairly quickly, not wanting to work on the stack of paperwork any longer than he had to.

Also, he had no idea how long Morgan would stay quiet for. So far she'd been happy enough to lay on his arm so long as he spoke to her every couple of minutes, but he hadn't fed her yet and babies weren't known for staying quiet forever. They cried and wailed like banshees whenever they didn't get what they wanted, which was something Tony wasn't too keen on experiencing just yet, if at all.

He's not sure how many hours passed since he sat down to work on the paperwork; he fed and burped Morgan, rocked her to sleep, and managed to finish more than half of his paperwork. The knock on the door to the conference room goes unheard, but when Happy pokes his head around the door before stepping inside, Tony startles, nearly dislodging Morgan from his one-handed grip.

Seeing Morgan scrunch up her face, he quickly gets to his feet and gently starts to bounce her, hushing her as he goes.

"A little warning next time, Hap?" Tony says sarcastically, checking on Morgan who still looked dissatisfied.

He carried on bouncing her, rocking back and forth slowly.

"What do you mean? I knocked!" Happy whispers loudly, then clamps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. "Too loud?" he mouths.

Tony rolls his eyes with a huff. "She's not asleep, Happy, you just startled her. Do things slowly and she'll be fine. Apparently, sudden noises scare babies. That, and sudden movements."

Taking Tony's word seriously, Happy slowly removes his hand from his mouth, a look of fascination taking over his features. "Is that –?"

Tony nods, a flare of pride settling over him. "Yeah." He stops his bouncing but continues to sway slowly, moving over to the desk once more. 

Happy strides over to where Tony's settled in, perching on the edge of the desk to get a better glance at the bundle in Tony's arms. 

Tony shifts slightly so that he can move Morgan around his arms without jostling her too much, then pulls down part of the blanket that was covering her.

Focusing on Morgan, Happy eyes her briefly, then glances over at Tony, a look of accusation on his face. "I thought Pepper was joking and that you two were pranking me. I was willing to go along with it, but I gotta say, this isn't funny," Happy says flatly.

Tony shakes his head. "Why would I joke about having a baby, Happy? And you know Pepper would never joke about something like this either."

"So this isn't a joke, then? This is really your kid? The kid you had with Captain America?"

"Nope, no joke. And it's just Steve, Happy. He hates it when people call him that. And yeah, this is my kid." 

He lifts Morgan a little higher so that Happy can see her properly. "Meet Morgan H. Stark-Rogers," he says.

The look on Happy's face eased from a slight annoyance to something a whole lot softer as he took in the sight of Morgan.

Tony watches the exchange as one of his oldest friends meets his daughter for the first time, a look of undisguised awe on his face.

"You want to hold her?" he hears himself ask. 

He doesn't even wait for Happy to respond before he's sliding Morgan into his arms, making sure that Happy's hold on her was secure before stepping away.

As soon as Tony steps away from Happy, Happy's eyes go huge with panic. 

"Hey, relax, Hap. You've got her. You won't drop her, I trust you."

Happy doesn't reply, focusing on his task of not dropping his newest and tiniest charge.

A couple of minutes pass before Happy breaks the silence.

"She's an absolute angel."

Tony's grin is wide as he stares down at Morgan, comfortable in Happy's arms.

"I know, right?" he says.

He's still staring at Morgan so he completely misses the smirk Happy gets on his face.

"Of course, she inherited that from Steve and not you, seeing as you're the exact opposite of angelic."

Tony rolls his eyes and settles in his seat, working on his paperwork once more and counting down the minutes until he got to introduce Rhodey to Morgan.

Chapter Text

"– just the cutest little girl ever, aren't you?" Bucky coos, playing with one of Morgan's small socked feet.

Steve dutifully ignores him. To anyone on the team who was used to the Winter Soldier's stoicism, they'd find the behavior more than a little odd. But Steve knows that the Bucky that was happily playing with his daughter was the same Bucky from before the war who used to dote on his little sisters and any baby in their old neighborhood.

It was actually how they earned some sort of living wage whenever Bucky wasn't working down at the docks or Steve wasn't drawing for the paper; they'd babysit the neighbors' kids.

"Alright. I get what you're saying, Steve. I hear you loud and clear. But don't you think that he's trying? Clearly he feels something if he's trying to go over and beyond whatever he's supposed to, even if it means that he's managed to wake Morgan up for a feed when she wasn't due for one yet. And I get why you'd be upset, especially if you just put her down, but the way I see it is that he's trying to be helpful." Sam's words were punctuated with a loud slurp from his strawberry milkshake.

The trio – and Morgan – was sitting in one of the tables by the window of the few diners on the corner of Fifth Avenue with patrons that either didn't care that Avengers were in their midst, or simply didn't recognize them. 

The diner was modeled to look old-school, with red and brown leather seats and a long counter that stretched across the length of the establishment. At this time of day, close to lunchtime, the diner was still empty with only a few hungry guests dotted about the place.

Steve, despite the virtually empty diner, still didn't feel comfortable enough to remove his civilian disguise that consisted of his leather jacket, sunglasses and ballcap. Natasha liked to argue that it was just his regular jacket and that if he wanted a disguise he should invest in a black leather jacket too. According to her he'd pull it off. But she also liked to say that he should walk around shirtless, so he wasn't too sure with her judgement. Of course, it was disrespectful to enter any eating establishment with one's cap on, so he'd removed it and put it in the diaper bag he'd brought with him, and his sunglasses had been pushed back in his hair. 

Steve felt stripped bare without the items, but he'd ducked his head down and prayed to whatever God or deity was listening that no one would pay him any attention as he'd found a free table, keeping seats for his two friends that were running late. 

Eventually they'd arrived, out of breath with sheepish smiles on their faces. They'd hugged Steve, happy that he was finally stepping out of both the penthouse and tower to get some fresh air, and were more than overjoyed that they'd get to meet little Morgan in person.

Not that she was entertaining anyone just yet. She was still too tiny for them to play with properly.

"I know that he's trying, Sam, I do, really. But I feel like he's smothering me. I'm not saying he shouldn't just – everytime I turn around he's there. And he's always offering to do something for me. I've purposefully left clothing in Morgan's nursery unfolded so that I could distract him long enough so that I'd have some peace and quiet. Do you know what happened after?" Steve didn't wait for Sam to hazard a guess, "He was gone for two hours and so I thought it was fine, that he'd gone back to the lab. But no, Tony refolded all the laundry in Morgan's drawers and moved them around, then tidied up her toys and moved those also around. The other day she was crying because she wet herself through her diaper and onto her clothing and I couldn't find any of her long sleeved tops because they had been shifted to another drawer. So yes, I appreciate him helping me, but he's doing more harm than good at this point. I can't even do anything without him stopping me from doing it only for him to do it himself. He's hovering, Sam, and it's driving me crazy."

Sam blinks, slightly stunned at the hysterical undertone in Steve's voice.

"Yeah… okay. I think I'm starting to see your point. I mean, maybe just tell him? I don't know, man, this is foreign territory. I kinda imagined Stark would have people to fold his laundry for him, you know what I mean? Can't imagine I'd ever hear you say this, though. At least –"

Bucky looked up from where he was playing with Morgan.

"I dunno why you're complainin' about this to us, Stevie. I mean, I personally would love to be waited on hand and foot. The life of luxury. Wilson over here won't even get up to get me a bottle of water. Here you've got the man you love doing things for you and you're whinin'. He's whipped and you can't see that. Just let him do it so long as he's happy. And yeah, maybe it's getting annoyin' but all you gotta do is tell him to tone it down a bit. I mean, come on! The guy is practically running after you and you're sittin' over here being all ungrateful," Bucky drawls, sounding wholly unimpressed.

Steve gears up to retort but finds himself stopping short, unable to think up of a response that won't make him sound childish.

He slumps in his seat, feeling guilty and ashamed all at once. It's horrible.

"He's not –" Steve stops himself. He was about to say that Tony wasn't 'whipped'. Was the furthest from it, in fact, but Bucky might have another point to make about him focusing on that of all things. Sam would join in and he wasn't in the mood for his two best friends to lecture him. 

Not when all he wanted was a break from the craziness that was currently happening in his life.

He closes his mouth, choosing to keep quiet instead. What could he possibly say? 

Sensing this, Bucky chimes in again.

"I get that you're struggling with all of this, Stevie, but this is what we're here for. Right, Sam? We're your friends and we're here to help. This is something you're not used to but if I were you I'd try to make the most of this. You've got a beautiful little girl." Here, Bucky looks down at Morgan and Steve notices the little uptick in the corner of his mouth.

He feels guilty.

He was sitting in a diner with two of his closest friends, one who was doting on his daughter and the other who was hellbent on being a listening ear for his human disaster of a best friend. 

And he was complaining when he had absolutely nothing to complain about.

Bucky, never one to really complain or show what he was truly feeling if he felt it would burden others, would never allow himself to dream of having a family. Would never allow himself to fantasize holding his own child with a loving partner watching on fondly. Simply because he never saw himself as someone that somebody could love. Not with his past.

And Steve feels bad.

Because he knows his best friend is worth all that and more. He knows that if Bucky just looked past all his insecurities then he would see that a future like the one he always pushed to the recesses of his brain was possible, and that the person he could have such a future with was actually within arm's reach. 

And yet, despite his guilt,  Steve still feels frustration bubbling at the surface. He still feels smothered by Tony's overbearing nature.

Yes, Bucky was definitely right about Tony caring, but Bucky doesn't know how any of this feels. Can't possibly imagine what it feels like from an insider's point of view and not a bystander.

Sam, ever the peacemaker, glances between the two agelong friends then claps his hands to get their attention.

"Right then," he says with an easy grin trying to dispel whatever lingering tension there was in the air, "just because this is my day job doesn't mean that it needs to cut into my weekends, too."

Sam continues. "We're all here to have a good time so maybe we should stop focusing on such serious conversation and just enjoy one another's company."

Bucky immediately scowls and rolls his eyes at Sam's words and Steve finds the beginnings of a smile teasing at his lips at what he knew to be the daily banter between the two men.

Whatever Sam was doing was working. Not that Steve ever doubted him. It was just that Sam was sneaky like that. It was always difficult to hold a grudge against someone – not that Steve wanted to! – or to sulk in peace whenever Sam was around. The man was like a brilliant ray of sunshine and wouldn't settle for anything less than everyone around him being happy. He'd do anything and everything in his power to make the people around him happy. Steve remembers an earlier conversation that he'd had with Sam and how the man had confessed that whenever someone was sad or couldn't be cheered up, he always felt useless because he took it to be that he'd failed at his job.

"Oh. And let me guess, Wilson, you're part of the company? I don't even know why we invited you in the first place. Steve, why did you invite him?" Bucky questions, narrowing his eyes at Sam over his plate of food.

Steve stifles a laugh, holding his hands up in a placating manner when Sam looks at him almost as if to say 'are you hearing this right now?'. He turns to look Bucky in the eye, then calmly reaches over the table and grabs a handful of fries from Bucky's plate, dipping them into his milkshake and popping them into his mouth.

Steve can't help it. He laughs. The look on Bucky's face is outrageous; half stunned and half annoyed. His friend looked shocked at the audacity Sam had to steal his food.

Bucky scowls, pulling his plate closer to himself so that Sam can't steal anymore of his food, and then gives the gap-toothed man a look that could freeze even the deepest of pits in hell.

"Forgot living a life of luxury. I can't even have a roommate that doesn't steal my food or have atrocious eating habits. Why are we sharing an apartment again, Wilson? You have a house of your own."

Steve chokes on his sip of water. Surprise colors his features.

When had Sam moved to the tower? He remembers him, Nat and the others trying to convince Sam to move in. Well, mostly him and Nat, but still. Why didn't he know that Sam had moved in? And most importantly, when had Sam decided to move in with Bucky? 

The conversation they'd had right before the mission where everything went to hell in a hand-basket plays in his mind. He'd struggled to get Sam to say yes to stay at the tower. If only he knew that all he had to do was get Bucky to convince the man to stay.

Sam looks at him in concern, but he shakes it off, waving a hand in the air. "I'm good. The water went down the wrong pipe. When did you move into the tower?" 

Bucky and Sam share a look with one another. Then, almost too nonchalantly, Bucky shrugs his shoulders. Steve instantly knows that this is a topic of conversation that his best friend is mildly uncomfortable with. 

"Sam moved in about a month ago. I guess. Unofficially, at least. He just started leaving his shit all over my apartment and then next thing you know I have a squatter that I can't get rid of and that constantly raids my fridge and uses all my hot water when he uses my shower," Bucky answers.

Sam rolls his eyes. 

"Stop complaining, Barnes. Firstly, I don't see you complainin' about the food I make whenever 'raid' your fridge," here, Sam is heavy on the finger quotes, "And secondly, I can't use all the hot water. It's impossible to when you're living in a building owned by Tony Stark. Man sure does know how to win people over to his side. Spoiler alert; all you have to say is that you have a never-ending supply of hot water."

Steve manages to hide a smile by ducking his head to smile down at Morgan who was lying peacefully in her uncle's arms. Taking the chance to peek at his best friends, he finds them still exchanging quips between them. 

He doesn't say anything else about Sam staying with Bucky, nor does he ask any other questions relating to that, but he watches his friends closely after that. He'd missed too much by focusing on the things happening in his life. It's about time he focuses on the things happening around him, too.

The rest of the time is spent laughing and poking fun at one another. None of the serious topics from earlier is discussed and the trio relax further into their shared booth. The only time their banter and conversations get disrupted is when Morgan fusses.

A short while later, after all the coffee is gone from the pot and their plates are all but licked clean, they're still sitting in the same spots in the same booth. Morgan is dozing lightly in his arms after a quick feed when Bucky decides to get the coffee refilled for their table. 

Steve should've known that the good luck wouldn't last.

The bell above the door to the diner jingles as someone sets foot inside. And, like each time before that, no one pays it any mind. Least of all Steve and Sam. They're still conversing with one another when Steve realizes that the audible midday chatter had stopped and a hush fell over most of the area. It's enough to make him look up from their booth and scan the establishment for any threats, his body suddenly tense and mind alert. Briefly, he silently berates himself for not being aware of the goings in and out of the diner. He knows that it was bad to let his guard down. Any soldier worth his salt knows that. Anyone in their line of work does. And yet, he'd forgotten that one important rule.

There, at the door, is Tony. Tony who's all out of breath, eyes slightly wild and looking worried. His suit is lightly rumpled, his tie askew, and in the back of his mind, Steve remembers being told about a meeting that the brunet couldn't skip. It's more than a little vague, but Steve can't find it in himself to care. 

All he cares about is why Tony is standing in the diner looking panicked. And why he's currently making his way over to their table.

Steve eyes the rest of the occupants in the diner and thankfully, the way all New Yorkers do, they went back to whatever they were doing before. Not even the sight of Tony Stark is enough to keep their attention. 

He's just thankful that they don't clock in that three other Avengers are sitting in the diner as well. Or if they do, they don't care much to properly act on it.

"Oh thank God," Tony says, sounding relieved. Steve can only watch as he comes closer to their table, muttering to himself all the way.

"Tony, is -"

"Stark, did something happen?" Sam asks, glancing around the diner. Catching eyes with Bucky who is watching their interaction with avid interest, he shakes his head. Still not completely convinced, Bucky eyes them for a second or two longer before turning back to the waitress once more with a charming smile.

Tony ignores the question, coming to a standstill at their table, right next to Steve. Steve could feel his body heat despite his own layers.

"Do you know how worried I was? I got home and the penthouse was empty. No one in sight. I called your cell and you weren't answering. Multiple times," Tony says. Each word sounds more frantic as it falls from his mouth, and, Steve notes, he's begun to do the hand waving thing he does whenever he's feeling stressed or overwhelmed.

"What do you mean? He was here with Barnes and I the entire time."

Sam folds his arms and leans back against the back of the leather seat. He regards Tony with critical eyes and Tony, not one to be cowed into submission easily, flicks a look of disinterest in his direction, then focuses all of his attention on Steve.

Steve feels like he's been backed into a corner with nowhere to escape. He feels like a child, small and vulnerable and at the mercy of someone with so much more power than he has.

"I've been with Sam and Bucky for most of the morning, actually. And part of the afternoon. I left you a note on the kitchen counter, as well as another one in your lab. Just in case you missed the first one."

Steve is annoyed, actually. Because what makes Tony think it's okay to come barging in and berate him? And the fact that he left notes for Tony saying where he and Morgan were should've been enough for him. He didn't have to tell Tony where they were because they weren't going to be out too long. Morgan was still too small to be out for long periods of time, and it was stressful enough being out with a tiny baby that he didn't want to be out longer than he had to, either.

"Well, I didn't get the notes, Steve!" Tony snaps, face twisting with frustration and slight anger.

Just like every interaction between the two of them, things go from zero to a hundred in a couple of seconds.

"Yeah? Well, I left them out for you! They're written on neon Post-Its, Tony. How could you have missed them? And what about FRIDAY? Couldn't she have told you where I was? She does a good job of keeping track of everything I do," he says bitterly, righteous anger beginning to color his tone.

"Guess what, Steve? I did! I don't know where you put them. What's the point of having a phone if you don't answer?" Tony bites out, angry.

Steve laughs but doesn't find anything particularly funny. It's a disbelieving laugh, angry and frustrated.

"My phone's on silent because I didn't think I'd need to report my every move to you. And you're one to preach, what's the point of having a million dollar A.I. when she can't even tell you where I am?"

Sam's eyes flit between the two of them, his mouth downturns into the beginnings of a frown. He looks unhappy, as though he's on the verge of jumping into the conversation and stopping them from arguing.

Tony scoffs, folding his arms across his chest.

Steve is briefly distracted by the way his blazer pulls taut against his arms, highlighting the strong muscle he knows is hidden by layers of clothing. But he quickly shakes away the mental image, too high strung to appreciate the sight properly.

"I did tell you that FRIDAY would be out of commission for a while since I'm busy with upgrades. She's only able to do the basics but anything beyond that will take some time until I'm done with her upgrades. You know what, I don't even know why I'm explaining this to you again. I was worried, Steve. I had no idea where the two of you were. What if something happened to you and Morgan?" Tony questions. He's lost all of his earlier frustration and energy and now he just seems devoid of all emotion. Lifeless is an odd look on Tony, but his eyes currently reflect it, the brown orbs dull unlike before.

But Steve can't find it in himself to care. Not that much, anyway. It sounds like a flimsy excuse to him, one that Tony is using to cover up a much bigger issue.

"And what? You thought I was going to grab Morgan and never come back to the tower?" he finds himself say scathingly.

If Steve was thinking straight, he'd be embarrassed by what came out of his mouth. Horrified, even. Except, he's not thinking straight. He's so angry that it's become hard to think straight.

Tony takes a few steps back, looking shocked. "What? No! I -"

"You what, Tony? I wasn't in the penthouse and you thought I left with our daughter. I wouldn't do that. I know that it might be hard to believe, but I do want this to work out. For her. I just needed a little space and so I left. Forgive me for not telling you about it."

"Steve, that's not what I was thinking. It's not even -"

"Isn't it? Tell me you didn't think that when you couldn't find the notes. Why else did you follow me here? You thought I was taking Morgan," he says. And despite his anger, his voice is dangerously calm.

Tony, though, looks the exact opposite. He looks as though he wants to argue back, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find something to say. Eventually he gives up, jaw clenched. His hands are closed in tight fists at his side and he's slipped on his sunglasses again. It's a little habit of Tony's whenever he feels vulnerable.

Steve knows he went too far, but he can't make himself apologize or ask for Tony's forgiveness.

"Maybe it's best if I leave," Tony finally says, throwing his hands up in the air, looking at him and then flicking his eyes towards Morgan. " Sorry for worrying about yours and our daughter's safety."

The way Tony quickly gives up should be an indicator of just how wrong he was, how this had all gone sideways because Tony was never one to stand down that easily. Especially not when he thought he was being wrongfully accused of something and had all the evidence to back it up.

The next thing he knows, Tony is gone and he can hear the sounds of the suits repulsors firing up as he flies away.

"Steve." 

Sam clears his throat and Steve glares at him, discouraging him from saying anything.

And then, because having one friend judge him and shoot him disapproving looks isn't enough, Bucky comes back, coffee pot in hand.

"What? What did I miss?" Bucky questions as he makes a stop at their table, looking thoroughly confused.

Steve doesn't answer and shakes his head silently, shouldering Morgan's diaper bag before clipping her back into her carrier. He tucks her blanket around her and straightens the beanie on her tiny head, focusing on the little tasks so that he doesn't break down then and there. 

He's so frustrated that it's bordering on fury, the anger so obvious that he's practically shaking with it, and yet he doesn't want to show his friends just how upset he was about everything. More than anything, he doesn't want them to brush his feelings off. Surely he has a right to feel this way? 

Not that Sam and Bucky could completely understand, of course. They just saw parts of what was going on and tried their best to make him feel better, and it does , for a bit, anyway, before reality sets in once again.

So he keeps his mouth firmly shut and packs his and Morgan's belongings, the anger searing through his chest and making all of his movements stiff and jerky at odds with the way it also seemed to cool the heat spreading through his body, calming his less than good thoughts.

He throws a few dollars on that table.

"Nothing, Buck. Thanks for lunch, but I think it's best if I leave."

He doesn't wait for them to argue against his leaving, and whatever things they do say fall on deaf ears.

Both him and Morgan are gone without another backwards glance and Sam sighs, leaning back against the cracked leather of his seat and Bucky shoots him a look. "I missed something, didn't I?"

Sam rolls his eyes. "Ya think, Barnes? Your timing is just impeccable, as usual."

Chapter Text

Steve ends up taking the elevator to the common floor, his anger at a more manageable level now than it was earlier. He's had some time to think on the way home and while he still feels angry and frustrated, he also feels a ton of guilt. He also wishes that his day out with Sam and Bucky hadn't ended the way it had, but he's come to realize that maybe having a happy ending - or day - was not something that was in the cards for him.

As expected, at the sight of him and Morgan, the rest of the team is excited to finally meet their newest member face-to-face and not simply through a video call the way they had been doing since she'd come home. Clint is about as excitable as a puppy, leaping down from his perch on the bookshelf and hurtling towards Steve with a huge grin on his face, only to stop a few feet away from them in waiting until Steve gave him the okay to come closer.

Natasha, usually so graceful and poised, nearly stumbles in her attempt to lift herself from the loveseat she was sprawled on. And then before Steve can issue a warning to Clint, Natasha is shoving him out of the way to get closer to the carrier and making quick work of untucking Morgan from her blankets.

Bruce is next to come round the corner, poking his head out the kitchen door at the indignant squawk Clint lets loose as he goes tumbling to the floor. And when he realizes it's Steve, he quickly dusts off his hands and gingerly makes his way closer, looking even more nervous now that there's a baby in the vicinity.

It's as Natasha and Clint are fighting over who gets to hold Morgan next that the timid brunet quietly informs him that Thor had just left that morning to go and visit Asgard. Steve nods, taking in the two spies currently arguing over his baby and he notices the way Bruce fidgets slightly, whether from nerves or something else and, before either Clint or Natasha see him coming, he's gently prying Morgan from their grip and carrying her over to Bruce. 

Bruce is quick to catch on and tried to argue against holding her, but his reasons fall flat in between Clint's pouting and Natasha's encouragements to 'just hold her already, Bruce'.

He stays on the common floor long enough for a movie and dinner, enjoying the company of his team.

Despite knowing the entire team's whereabouts, Steve doesn't ask about Tony's.

***

For all that Natasha plays the doting and loving aunt, she plays the intelligent spy much better. 

As soon as Steve steps into the elevator to take him and Morgan to his floor, Natasha is right on his heels with a much too innocent smile on her face.

Thankfully, she leaves the interrogation until they're safely on his floor.

She grills him mercilessly, wanting to know what happened in the few hours he was gone from the tower and he explains in the most detached way he can so that he doesn't allow his previous anger and frustration to cloud his mind once more.

She seems to have caught on to what he was planning because she eyes his apartment with a critical eye, most likely taking in all the dust that had settled on the surrounding surfaces while he'd pretended that everything was fine between him and Tony and them sharing a living space would go as well as it did before.

Before he can ask her what she's planning in her head – and knowing Natasha, she was definitely planning something – she's got a damp rag in her hand and she's wiping down the nearest surface.

She helps him clean up the dust and wipe down everything that needs to be wiped down, and then, because she's a friend and not only an aunt and trained spy, she accompanies him to his bed and gives him some advice, stroking through his hair with her fingernails.

"So you want to stay on your own floor for a while? In your own apartment even though there's a perfectly good penthouse with amenities and everything at your disposal?" Natasha questions, scritch-scratching his scalp. 

Steve can feel himself relaxing, the tension that had seized his muscles easing away slowly but surely.

"Tasha."

Natasha heaves a big sigh. It seems that all she had done that afternoon was sigh.

"Alright, alright. I won't pry. Much. But how long are you deciding to stay here for? What about Morgan?" she asks, sounding every bit like the big sister she liked to insist she is.

Steve scrubs a hand down his face, feeling exhausted just thinking about it all. Not only that, but now the guilt was festering away at his insides. Tony had made it distinctly clear what he thought of parents carting their kids from one household to the next and now here he was, doing the exact same thing.

But he can't deny that this is for the best. 

They shouldn't be living together and they should definitely not be trying to raise their kids together by putting up a farce so thin that whatever entity out in space could see how laughable it really was.

"I was thinking that it's best if I stay here permanently. It's the best solution to this, Nat. And having Tony and I constantly fighting in front of Morgan is not a good thing."

Natasha hums and they lay together in silence, each of their minds drifting as they stare up at the ceiling.

"You know, I've never had what you and Tony did. I always thought that should I ever be in love, it would look something like that. And I know what you're thinking, but hear me out. You two are so in love with each other that it physically hurts you, and even then you two will fight to stay apart because it's what each of you believe is the right thing, that it's better that way for the other. And don't even try to argue with me. I've seen it. But I've also seen you two at your worst, when you're arguing and when you can't stand to be in the same room for more than a few minutes. There are fairy tales, old Russian folktales that speak of bonds so strong that nothing could tear the pair apart, that speak of soul mates. And I believe that that's what you and Tony are, no matter if I am too old and jaded to believe in such drivel. But then again, who am I to speak of what true love actually means? If you say that you and Tony are over then I believe it, too. Just know that if you choose to fight for this, I am in your corner. You deserve to be happy, Steve."

Her words are spoken as soft as a whisper, barely piercing through the sounds of the air-conditioner, but they're fiercely determined.

And Steve finds himself having to blink back tears, freezing in place because her words had hit him right in the heart.

Why is it so difficult for him to be happy? Why can others find their happiness and not him?

"Thank you, Nat," he murmurs, hoping his voice doesn't catch and betray just how he feels.

Which is pointedly stupid because he'd really beared his heart out to Natasha mere minutes ago and a simple reply from her is enough to drive him to tears.

Apparently she catches on quickly because she's there to press a kiss to his check and wipe away the few tears that do manage to fall.

Natasha doesn't tell him to quit crying or to be the man everyone expects him to be, and she doesn't tell him he's pathetic.

She simply keeps him company and gives him what he needs.

When he asks her to help him move a few of his and Morgan's belongings down to his floor she readily agrees.

It's not long before they're each drifting off, comfortable with sharing each other's space.

That night, Steve dreams of what he's going to say to Tony should he ask why neither he nor Morgan return to the penthouse.

***

“Need some help?” Comes a familiar voice. Tony turns toward the voice, thanking his lucky stars it’s Natasha who’s walked in on him like this. He can admit that at the start of all of this, at the start of the team all coming together and eventually living together, he didn't trust her. Not enough to call her a friend but enough to have his back out in the field. But now they could tease each other the way friends do and a lot of the time she was ready to step in and help. Even when it was things she wasn't so clued up on.

But her help was offered especially now when it came to her niece.

“I think I got it.” Tony knows for a fact that although he's trying to show how put together he is, he's failing miserably. Morgan is growing more irritable, her face turning red and twisting into a frown that he just knows is going to grow into full on crying soon. Tony sighs. “Okay. I need some help.”

“Some?” Natasha smirks, coming over to assist. Tony ignores the teasing. She takes Morgan into her arms, the smug look on her face instantly turning into a smile. “Hello there. Shh it’s okay. Auntie Nat has you now.”

Tony is left to watch completely dumbstruck with how quick Natasha is able to calm down his fussy daughter. He thought he was good at calming Morgan, but apparently Natasha had some serious skills hidden away.

He doesn't say anything about how he's been struggling to keep Morgan from crying uncontrollably these past few days. He was exhausted; nothing he seemed to do was right. He's tried everything to get her to stop crying and when he thinks that maybe she's crying because of hunger, it turns out she's just tired or wants to be held. Something that is really difficult when he needs to work and all she wants to do is lie in his arms and drift off.

He doesn't know whether Morgan can sense that Steve isn't nearby, that her parents aren't sharing a living space anymore, but he doesn't try to kid himself into believing that that's the reason for her discomfort. Maybe he's just really horrible at this parenting gig like he originally thought.

"Thanks for the help.”

Natasha nods. “I love this little princess. I’d do anything for her, you know that.”

“Anything?” 

Natasha peers up at him through her lashes, eyes narrowing slightly. “I don't do diapers."

“Of course, you don't."

Tony digs the bottle out of the bag and hands it over to Natasha. She doesn’t complain about feeding Morgan and the content smile on her face proves she’s more than happy to spend some time with her niece. She moves to the couch, carefully lowering herself down.

Tony watches them from his spot for a few minutes, happy to see his daughter and one of his friends bonding with one another before he takes the spot next to her, letting out a heavy sigh and tipping his head over the back of the couch.

“Am I babysitting now? You look like you're about to fall asleep," Natasha tells him and Tony winces. 

He knows he looks every bit of the picture of sleep deprivation he currently is. Dark circles ring his eyes and his hair is a mess from tugging on the strands. At least he was lucky enough to be able to shower in between looking after Morgan.

“Not gonna fall asleep,” Tony says, and he opens his eyes. "Although a nap sounds pretty good right about now."

“I’m surprised. You never take naps.”

“Yeah, well I have a kid now and she just loves keeping me up. Huh, amoretti ? You like keeping Daddy awake all night?” Tony coos, reaching out to tickle Morgan's sock covered foot. Morgan squirms from the touch and Tony can't help the grin that teases at the corners of his lips despite his tiredness.

“Can I be honest? Like, really honest?”

“Oh? So you're never brutally honest with any of us? And here I was thinking you insulting my every choice of clothing was simply you being honest.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “I don't insult all of your fashion choices. Some of them I even happen to be overly fond of. They accentuate all those muscles you like to hide beneath those silk dress shirts and suits of yours. But, don't change the subject. How come you and Steve-”

Tony groans.

“What? I’m just wondering-”

“You’re wondering why we’re not together even though we have a kid. Am I right? Of course I’m right. I don’t know. It’s complicated. Everything is just a mess,” he says, scrubbing a hand down his face. It's then that he notices he's probably due for a shave.

“You want to know what I think of the word complicated? I think it should be a Facebook status. I think you’re making it complicated. And Steve. I know how stubborn he can be.”

“Great. I’m glad you figured all of this out. We’re fine. We don’t need to be together to raise a kid. Plenty of people do it this way. And it's better this way. We won't argue as much.”

The last bit is said bitterly as he remembers the way Steve had accused him of thinking he was going to leave with Morgan and never come back. He knows that Steve would never, and he knows that Steve was probably just tired and frustrated the way he was feeling, but the accusation still stung.

If Pepper could've seen him, she would've been proud of the maturity he displayed in that moment. Walking away had never been so difficult when all he wanted to do was yell at Steve and tell him just how wrong he was.

“True. But are those people still in love with each other?”

“Ah!” Tony holds up a finger to silence her. “I’m gonna stop you right there. We’re not in love. Maybe we were once but...that was a long time ago. We’re just friends.”

“That have a baby?”

“That have a baby.”

Natasha doesn’t seem too convinced, not that Tony was expecting her to be. There were days when he wasn’t convinced with his own words either.

Those days were happening more and more as of late.

“So where is Steve?” Tony decides to ask, though a part of him regrets bringing Steve up. It's nearly time for him to fetch Morgan and although giving her over is the right thing, the fact that he won't get to see her for the next few days makes his heart ache. 

“The usual. He's out on a run with Sam and Bucky,” Natasha answers.

“Right. I guess that makes sense. He needs some change. He’s been a little-”

“ Tony .”

“I wasn’t going to say-”

“I know he’s struggling. You don’t have to say it.”

“I know he's struggling too, Nat. I'm glad it’s not just me that sees it. But he’s fine, right? I don’t need to worry?” He asks. 

And yeah. A part of him wishes he didn't have to ask because a while ago, he wouldn't have had to. He would've been able to see if Steve was fine with his own two eyes and not have to depend on someone else's opinion. Better yet, he would've been able to ask and then if the answer was no, he'd have the chance to make Steve feel at least a little better than he was before.

“Why? Do you think you need to worry?”

The question throws him off, makes him feel a little uncomfortable. Should he be worrying? Besides the wild accusations that occurred that fateful afternoon in the diner, he's not had any reason to really be worried. Steve's not depressed. At least, not like some of the post-partum horror stories he's read while researching late into the night when insomnia hit him hard. This was just a mix of a really bad situation and shitty timing.

“No. I mean...no. He’s just...adjusting. I get it. I’m trying to figure this out too. And let me tell you, it's not as easy as some people make it look.”

“Then maybe you two should talk?”

"Definitely not," Tony says.

Natasha rolls her eyes and sighs. "You know, I've never met two people who could be such a right fit for one another and yet manage to make everything go wrong in such a short amount of time the way you two seem to do."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? Well, clearly the universe decided to give you a prime example." 

He's referring to him and Steve.

Natasha gives him a tiny smile. "Hang in there, Antoshka. You know what they say; things have to get worse before they can get better." She leans in and presses a quick kiss to his temple. 

In the next moment, she's gone.

Tony huffs, closing his eyes. He sure hopes she's right. Because he doesn't know how much worse he could handle.

***

Steve had insisted he walk Tony back to his penthouse. His reason was to allow Tony more time to say goodbye to Morgan before her stay with her other parent, but Tony knew there was more to it.

“She’s finally asleep,” Steve says, coming down the stairs. He had helped put Morgan down for her mid-morning nap, not wanting to disturb her when he realized that she was well on her way to the land of nod by the time he'd finished his run. Tony expects him to leave now, only to find that Steve lingers awkwardly in the living room.

“You can sit down.” Tony makes a gesture toward the empty spot beside him. Now that Morgan was asleep, it’s tempting to get a little shut eye himself. But he'd rather wait until Steve gets whatever he needs to say off his chest first. 

He's surprised that Steve followed him to the penthouse after everything, but he supposes that Steve always was a stubborn man.

“I should probably go.”

“Come on. You know that I know you want to tell me something. Just say it. I promise I'll keep my mouth shut until you've said whatever it is you need to say.”

The sense of foreboding that's in the back of his mind grows the longer Steve remains standing. That, and the beginning of what he knows is going to be a killer migraine blooming in his left temple.

Steve looks conflicted, but he sighs and takes the proffered seat. He doesn’t sit very close, making sure to keep some distance between them. It hurts more than Tony thought it would. 

“I...I want to apologize for what I said. I know I shouldn't've snapped at you the way I did. Or accused you of thinking- well, you know what I did. I guess I was just feeling really frustrated and tired. I needed some space away from you and the tower and seeing you walk into the diner when I thought I was feeling some semblance of freedom was the tipping point. I was wrong and it was out of place. You had a right to worry about Morgan, especially with the types of lives we lead."

Tony knows he's probably pulling some sort of face, but this was not what he expected when Steve followed him back to the penthouse. Truthfully, he wasn't expecting any sort of apology either and was more than willing to sweep it all under the rug and move on. 

He gets it. He's not sure he wouldn't have reacted the same way Steve had if the roles were reversed. And there is a mountain of evidence on the internet proving just how many times he's reacted badly to something. 

“When...I accused you of thinking I was going to leave and take Morgan with me, I didn’t mean it. I mean, in the heat of the moment I did but...I’m sorry. I know it's definitely not what you were thinking and I jumped to conclusions. I'm really sorry.” Steve can't look him in the eye.

“Yeah. I'm not gonna say I wasn't mad at you at that moment, because I really, really wanted to yell at you, but I figured it was just a huge misunderstanding on both of our parts. Maybe if I hadn't rushed out of the tower like I was being shot at then I would've found the notes you left behind for me. Honestly, it's kinda embarrassing.

This time Steve looks up at him, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, it was. For both of us.”

“Got it in one. I mean, I know I haven’t been the greatest… friend . Ignoring you for the past few months was just easier. It was just me trying to figure out how to move on. It’s stupid, I know. Rhodey and Pepper will tell you I'm really good at doing things like that. But I'm sure you've been warned already," Tony says, then sighs. "I guess I thought if I pushed you away it would make getting over you easier.”

He isn't going to admit that he knows Steve isn't over him either, that he and Pepper overheard his conversation with Sam so he knows he isn't just imagining things. Nope. He's definitely not going to say anything. Not under threat of death. It's a bit drastic, he knows, but Steve would be so upset with him if he says anything. It's an invasion of privacy, one that was accidental, but one that happened nonetheless.

“Did it?”

“No.” Tony sighs. He doesn't try to lie. For one thing, he's pretty sure any lie he does tell would be pretty transparent, and another thing is that there's no point in trying to lie anymore. He does have some lingering feelings for Steve. “I guess you’re pretty hard to forget. It also doesn’t help that we have a baby now. It makes things harder when there's a little person completely dependent on you.”

“Yeah. I thought we could break up and everything would be okay. But it wasn't and I was wrong. I missed you during our time apart. I still miss you, even when we're a floor apart, Tony. I’m sorry. I’m trying to move on.”

Tony doesn't know what else to say short of admitting that he already knows that Steve is trying to move on. 

“But?” is what he settles on eventually.

Steve swallows hard and wrings his hands together. Tony watches those hands that he loved to hold shake and he wants to lay one of his own over them if only to stop Steve from wringing them. The temptation is so strong that his hands itch with the effort of holding back.  “I just," he pauses, blowing out a breath. "I can't. I see you with Morgan and I wish-God, I wish we could be a family.”

Tony blinks. He straightens up in his seat, suddenly wide awake. "We are a family, Steve," he says with conviction.

“We’re broken. Tony, look at us." Steve laughs, tugging at his hair. Tony watches with avid interest, sensing that the pacing was about to follow up soon.  We tried living together and that didn't work. And now she’s here with you one week and then with me the next. That’s not what you - what I wanted. It's not what we wanted,” Steve whispers, staring at the wall in the distance.

This time it's Tony's turn to laugh and when he does, the laugh is ugly, slightly hysterical. He tells Steve, "Well, whose fault is that?" instead of settling for the question he really wants to ask. Something ridiculous like 'you pictured a family with me?' 

Steve's head snaps up and Tony can see the hurt reflected in those blue eyes and he wants to take his words back, wants to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

But.

He's tired.

He's not the only one to blame for all of this. And he's hurting too. He's tried his best and his best wasn't enough and now they've both had to settle for less. Morgan is being carted between them and it's nothing like either of them planned.

"So what you're saying is that this is my fault," Steve says, voice distant.

He rolls his eyes and slaps his thigh. "No! God. I'm not saying that this is your fault. Don't put words in my mouth. You know I -" he stops, pinching the bridge of his nose. His posture slumps. "Why is it that I always get the impression that you're disappointed in me without me having done anything? I'd tell myself I'm simply being paranoid, except by then you've already managed to prove to me that hey! You are definitely, one hundred percent disappointed in me even when I've done nothing but try not to disappoint you. That I've done the best that I can with whatever limitations there are."

He wants to curse when he realizes that he's essentially managed to insert his foot in his mouth. Once again.

He sighs. "All I'm saying is that this is both of our faults. Neither of us is good at this and that obviously reflects in everything. We were falling apart before and now it's even worse. And yeah, this sucks but I just think this, right now, is better for both of us. And for Morgan in the long run."

Steve nods slowly. "Better," he echoes. "Uh huh. Better? For who, Tony? For me? For Morgan? For team morale? Tell me, is it any of those reasons that we've used before? No, I think that this is better for you."

And then; "You broke up with me all those months ago," Steve says.

Tony rears back like he's been slapped, feeling a mix of hurt and shock like never before. He's speechless.

"I broke up with you? Yes, I did. Because I had reasons and you were more than happy to agree with them, Steve! You had the chance to stop me then but you let me leave."

He wishes then that he hadn't thrown out his stash of expensive liquor. A stiff drink is exactly what he needs to get through this conversation.

Ironically, the person who made him promise to stop drinking was the same person who was making him want to drink again.

"Look," he says, swallowing thickly, voice hoarse, "I do think this is better, yes."

Steve scoffs, rising to his feet. "Well, then I think this conversation is over."

He's about to respond when a high-pitched wail sounds through the baby monitor. Morgan was awake, then, and probably had been for a while now.

God, they really were horrible at this. They'd argued right through their daughter alerting them to her wakefulness.

"I'll fetch Morgan," Tony tells Steve, avoiding eye contact. 

He stands up and gestures to the coffee table where Morgan's baby bag lay, packed and ready for the next week. "You can grab her bag. I think everything is inside."

He doesn't wait for a response, doesn't care if there is a response. He just wants to pick up his daughter and hold her for a few seconds until she has to leave again.

When he gets to the nursery, Morgan's big brown eyes are shiny with tears that stick to her lashes and her face is red and blotchy from crying. Gently, he leans down to scoop her out of her crib and free her from her blankets.

Tony pulls her to his chest and like magic, she slowly starts calming down. He wipes away her tears with the edge of his sleeve and presses a kiss to her little forehead, feeling some of the tension from his argument with Steve lessen. He hums lowly, a lullabye he vividly remembers his own mother singing to him as a child and her whimpers eventually taper off.

Tony's trying to convince himself that a week isn't that long, five days usually speed by really quickly for him and he's spent more days down in the lab. But he can't manage to kid himself into believing it. Without Morgan there's nothing to take up his time. 

He spends a few more moments holding her and rocking on his feet, not wanting to let her go just yet.

When he leaves the nursery and makes his way to the living room he finds Steve still in the same place.

As soon as Steve sees him approach with Morgan, he stands and walks over to them, taking Morgan with a soft smile.

It's so at odds with the way Steve behaved earlier that Tony finds it difficult to keep watching despite wanting to soak up each and every last second with Morgan. Instead he looks out the expansive windows of the penthouse at the view of the city below, hyper-aware that Steve was packing up their daughter's belongings.

Already the apartment feels empty and he wasn't even alone yet.

He's brought out of his musings by Steve clearing his throat and he turns away from the windows, regarding the blond with a tight smile.

"I think I have everything. Thank you, Tony."

"No problem. She's my daughter, too. And don't worry if you don't have everything. Of you forgot something you can just let FRIDAY know and I'll –"

"Don't worry about it. I have everything I wrote on the checklist. You might have to take Morgan earlier than what we have scheduled. I have an assignment that might cut into our week."

"Yeah, sure. You know I love spending time with -" Tony stops and frowns, "Wait. I didn't know that you were still going out there. On missions, I mean."

"Yeah. Is there a problem with that?"

Tony wants to say yes . There is very much a problem with that. Morgan was still small, barely four weeks old and Steve was wanting to go back out in the field.

But he doesn't say it.

"No. Uh… no. No problem. I guess I thought that because we have a baby now that you'd consider –"

Steve raises an eyebrow, looking wholly unimpressed.

"Consider what, Tony? Hanging up the shield? Are you gonna hang up the suit, then?"

Tony guesses that's what Steve was going to say.

Wisely, he chooses to remain silent. 

Steve seems to understand what his silence means because he doesn't bother arguing about how Tony was being a hypocrite.

Except, that's not how Tony sees it. Someone has to go out on missions. And Morgan, although dependent on both her parents, should anything happen to him, God forbid it, at least she'll still have Steve to look after her. She needs Steve more than she needs him. And if it means that he has to go out to keep the world safer for both of them, he was more than willing to do his job.

"I didn't think so. Anyway, Fury needs me out in the field sometime this week. I'll let you know when."

"I'll go," Tony says, not thinking before responding. He doesn't regret his decision, though. It's a no-brainer.

Steve, however, doesn't like his volunteering because he shakes his head resolutely. "No, I have to be the one to go. It's my mission."

Tony feels the urge to argue bubbling. "Steve, you just had a baby. He can't send you out. I'm sure –"

"I already had this conversation once. I don't see why I need to have this conversation with you again."

Instead of feeling angry like he should be, Tony feels a fission of panic bloom below his sternum, threatening to grow bigger until he knew Steve wouldn't be going on the mission.

"Steve. Just let me go. Let me make it up to you, okay? You complained about me not being there and cleaning up my own weapons, right? You wanted me there to clean up my own mess. Well, let me go, then. Maybe things would've turned out differently had I gone."

"Tony– "

“Come on. You really want to cut your week with Morgan short over some mission?”

“No,” Steve sighs, convinced. “Fine. I’ll let Fury know things have changed.”

Tony nods. They fall into an uncomfortable silence. Leaving would save them both from the awkwardness, but Tony can’t bring himself to leave the room, nor does he particularly want to. It's his penthouse. Why should he feel uncomfortable in his own space?

“We’re okay, right?” He asks. “I know things are kinda… rough–”

“It’s fine,” Steve responds.

Tony’s heart sinks. He didn’t say they were okay.

“Okay. I better go. Let me know if you need anything.”

Tony watches Steve leave with Morgan and his arms drop uselessly to his sides, feeling empty without the weight of his daughter in his arms.

It's nothing compared to the hole in his heart, however.

Chapter Text

Tony knows that he's offered to go in Steve's place on the mission, but truth be told, going on a mission is the last thing that he wants to do. The idea of leaving both his almost four week old daughter and Steve behind is something that he hates.

Ever since convincing Steve to let him go in his place, it's all that Tony's thought about.

He knows that he'll miss Morgan, and yes, even Steve, but he figures that if he goes and the team sorts out the issue, then they'll be back quickly. Maybe even tomorrow.

He leaves today, and yet, he's been stalling even though FRIDAY had already alerted him that the team was waiting for him in the hangar and that the jet was ready.

It's not that he doesn't want to leave, he knows he has to, it's just that he's extremely hesitant to do so. He's got a million and one scenarios running through his head, both good and bad, but none of them particularly makes him want to leave the tower and go on a mission.

When Tony finally makes it to the hangar, he finds the team waiting for him, only a few things being loaded onto the jet by Clint. 

Tony eyes the jet with a feeling of resignation. Clint, alerted to Tony's presence because of the heavy clunking of the armor's boots, shoots him a shit-eating grin. "Bout time you decided to pitch up, Tin man. Too busy fixing your hair?" Clint greets.

Despite the tiny sense of unease at being stuck with the rest of the team – he knows that his situation with Steve caused a split amongst the team – the teasing from Clint showed that it wasn't going to be too bad.

At least, he hopes it won't be. If not, well, he had the faceplate which he could always pull down and hide under.

No one ever said he was below acting like a child sometimes.

He rolls his eyes. "You do know that I possess a million dollar suit that can fly, right? I can fly alongside the jet. Remind me why I'm getting stuck with you again, Katniss?" he snarks back.

Clint shoots him the middle finger. "As if I wanna be stuck in close quarters with your shiny ass. The only reason I'm sitting next to you on this jet is because Nat promised me some of that candy she's been hoarding ro herself."

Tony cocks his head to one side, about to respond when Natasha steps out into the hangar, Steve in tow.

"Boys, boys. Enough arguing. Clint, you're a grown man. And Tony, it's good to see you. There's a little princess waiting to say bye to her daddy."

Tony grins, stepping over to press a kiss to her cheek in greeting. "Yeah, yeah. Tell that to Clint. He's been complaining about candy like a little kid."

Natasha raises an eyebrow at Clint who looks slightly sheepish. Tony doesn't bother listening to what she has to say to him because his attention has been grabbed by the sight of Steve holding Morgan in his arms.

"Hi, Tony. I thought you might want to say goodbye to Morgan before you left," Steve tells him.

Tony is grateful that Steve had thought about him wanting to say goodbye to Morgan. Steve must sense it because he regards Tony with a smile, none of the previous aloofness that he'd shown the last time they'd been in the same space. He deposits Morgan into Tony's arms and Tony takes her gently, mindful of just how hard the armor was in comparison to how fragile she was.

He takes longer than he needs to when it comes to saying goodbye to his daughter. Morgan is alert, staring up at him with those eyes Tony can’t get enough of. Not only that, but she holds on tightly to one of his gauntleted fingers. Steve watches them both but gives Tony the time he needs to say goodbye and only steps in when it's time for him to leave.

“Be good for your Papa okay? Who am I kidding? Of course you will,” Tony says.

“We’ll be fine,” Steve assures with a smile so tiny Tony almost misses it. “You better go.”

Tony sighs and gives Morgan one last kiss on the head. “You know we should talk-”

“You have a mission.”

“After the mission. We can’t keep doing this.”

“Tony-”

“Please? Let’s talk. We need to.”

Steve eventually agrees. “Okay.”

Another alert from Friday comes through.

“You better go,” Steve says again.

“I’ll be home soon. We were given until tomorrow so…” Tony trails off.

“Yeah. Good luck.”