pass the salt
The team – after the fiasco that was your relationship’s reveal – settles into the groove of things after a while. Sam still fake-pukes when Steve kisses your cheek and Natasha still warns Steve to keep his hands where she can see them when you’re cuddling on the couch, but things have generally reverted back to normal. And – to your relief – nobody had made a big deal out of it when you started calling Tony dad.
(Except Tony, that is, who has never not made a big deal out of anything in his life.)
You don’t know exactly when it happened. After telling him that you felt like he was the father you never really actually had he’d taken up the mantle fully, but you hadn’t had the nerve to fully call him dad. Until you did, of course, and nobody had said anything. Pepper had glassy eyes and Sam looked like the human embodiment of Surprised Pikachu but other than that, everything was going smoothly.
Until, of course, everyone had gathered for a team potluck on a Friday night. Well, you say potluck, but really it was just Sam bringing the entire meal and Wanda making dessert, because Clint apparently has no culinary skills, Natasha was busy sharpening her knives, Bucky is a senior citizen, and Vision doesn’t eat, so he doesn’t cook. Every one of your teammates is a liar, you’ve come to realise.
You’re chewing on a piece of Mac n’ Cheese when the ball drops.
“Daddy, pass the salt?”
A tale as old as time.
Tony and Steve both reach for the salt shaker.
And it’s painful, really. Kill Bill sirens going off in the background, Tony staring wide-eyed at the table in front of him, Sam choking and hacking on a piece of chicken. Bucky has gone stock still. Clint’s drink was spit back into his cup – Wanda’s trying so fucking hard not to laugh and failing miserably, and Vision, bless him, has no clue what’s going on.
Bruce’s lips are but a thin line, wide eyes flickering unsurely between Tony and you and Steve and Sam because Jesus Christ, Sam, are you genuinely choking?
Yes. Yes, he is.
With flushed cheeks you glance up at your super-soldier boyfriend, and clearly, he’s just as embarrassed as you are. He’s literally a tomato, his hand still frozen over the unassuming salt shaker, and for a moment you genuinely think you’re going to die. The floor is going to open and you are going to be put out of your misery–
Tony has reached the final stage of grief; acceptance, albeit hesitant and slightly disgusted. He clears his throat and pushes out his chair, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. Fatherhood really takes a toll on you, huh?
“I’m going to get another drink,” he says steadily, peering around the table. “And when I get back, we’re going to pretend that that never happened.”
“Agreed,” is chorused back unanimously.