One Blanket To Rule Them All
It started with a nap.
Which, in Stark Tower, was not unusual—especially where Harry was concerned.
But it was where he napped.
And who he napped on.
And the blanket.
There were two things you did not touch in Stark Tower without permission:
1. Natasha's throwing knives.
2. Harry's "Cuddle King" blanket.
It was soft. Fuzzy. The exact shade of chaotic comfort. Bucky got it for him after Harry caught the flu and mumbled something delirious about "being wrapped in safety and sarcasm."
The blanket was… sacred.
So when Steve was found using it—on his own—in the lounge, all hell broke loose.
"You stole the cuddle blanket," Clint said, eyes wide.
"I didn't steal it," Steve replied. "I borrowed it."
"Without asking?" Bruce gasped. "Are you a monster?"
"It's a blanket," Steve argued.
"It's THE blanket," Bucky growled.
Harry wandered in mid-sentence, saw the blanket, blinked once, and went completely still.
"Steven. Grant. Rogers."
Steve winced. "Oh no."
"You've violated the cuddle code."
"There's a code?"
Clint waved a small laminated card. "We've been tracking snuggle time on a spreadsheet. Natasha made a chart."
"It's color-coded," Natasha said coolly.
Steve blinked. "You people need hobbies."
"This is our hobby," Bruce said, adjusting his glasses.
The Tower meeting happened within the hour.
Tony created an official shared calendar titled
"Cuddle Access: Stark Tower Schedule v2.3."
Every team member got a timeslot.
Harry was allowed to veto.
There was a point system.
Points could be earned via:
Snacks
Foot rubs
Hoodie contributions
Emotional vulnerability (heavily rewarded)
Letting Harry win at Mario Kart (highly suspect)
Bucky currently led by 142 points.
Tony was tied with Clint.
Steve was in dead last.
The next escalation?
Blanket patrol.
Bucky installed tracking beacons in the cuddle blanket.
Tony programmed a "hot blanket" alert system into JARVIS.
Pepper walked in, took one look, and said, "This is exactly the kind of nonsense I hoped to see."
She then brought Harry a new blanket—with his initials monogrammed in gold thread.
Harry teared up.
Clint sobbed in the hallway. (Again, "allergies.")
That night, Harry lay curled on the couch with a blanket pyramid on top of him, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, a s'more-flavored tea in hand, and Bucky silently brushing his hair back.
Steve approached cautiously.
"Can I…?"
Harry tilted his head. "Hmm."
"Please?"
Harry took a slow sip of tea.
"Offer accepted," he said finally. "You may sit in the blanket kingdom. But bring cookies next time."
Steve sat.
Later, Harry leaned his head against Steve's shoulder and whispered, "You're not that bad."
Steve grinned like it was Christmas.