'I'm being sized up by a four-year-old.' Steve shot a look at Peggy as the thought ran through his head, but the woman simply arched an eyebrow back at him, face completely blank as Tony took a step forward.
"Are you really Steve Rogers?” The child demanded, words perfectly clear in spite of his age. “The Steve Rogers who is Captain America?”
Steve’s eyes darted back to Tony’s tiny face, drinking in the Howard-like features that weren’t like Howard at all, expressive twitches that more matched Peggy than anyone else who could possibly exist. Years lost the ice had stolen moments from Steve, but right here, in front of this kid who had Peggy standing proudly just behind him, he could almost imagine-
He knelt down, balancing carefully on one knee as he let Tony’s mistrusting eyes rake over him. “I’m really Steve Rogers,” he promised solemnly. “The Steve Rogers who is sometimes Captain America.”
Tony studied him, considering, and it took every ounce of self-control to suck in the bubble of hysterical laughter at the sight of the child’s furrowed brow.
"Then you love Aunt Peggy?" He asked, continuing before Steve could answer, "because the last guy said he loved her but he was a lying bastard-"
”Tony,” Peggy reprimanded with an odd gentleness, but the kid just barreled on.
"-and wanted her to stay home and have babies and cook even though Aunt Peggy wants to shoot things and can’t cook and wouldn’t have been happy and you want her to be happy, right?” Tony’s dark eyes narrowed. “You’ll let her shoot things and won’t make her cook?”
Steve looked up again, bewildered and slightly offended at something he couldn’t name, and saw Peggy slip her hand over her mouth, eyes sparkling madly with humor she was visibly suppressing as she looked from him to Tony and back to him.
Amused. Happy. Waiting.
"I love your Aunt Peggy," Steve whispered, watching her twitch before turning his gaze back to Tony, who was still regarding him seriously. "And she doesn’t need my permission to do anything. If she wants to shoot things, she can. And I’ll cook. She can do whatever she wants."
"Because she’s better than you." It was said like a challenge. Steve grinned.
"She’s so much better than me," he agreed seriously. "But I’m going to stick around, for as long as she wants me. Is that okay with you, Tony?"
The boy’s head tilted, silent for a moment before asking, “And you’ll cook? Aunt Peggy can’t make pancakes. I love pancakes.” Another challenge, and this time Steve couldn’t contain his laugh over the sound of Peggy’s exaggerated scoff. He looked up - her hand had dropped, and she was grinning, too.
"Buddy, I will make you and Aunt Peggy pancakes whenever you want them. How’s that?”
Tony’s smile was heartbreakingly small, but it was there; Steve could understand completely what Peggy had meant. “Okay, Cap,” he agreed with a sudden edge of childlike shyness, and Steve melted.
"Okay," he echoed.