Caregiver

One of the things Steve liked the most about Tony was that he dropped into his Little headspace beautifully. Sure, the prelude was always tough and tumultuous, and it didn’t always turn out well, but once Tony stopped fighting it and allowed himself to fully embrace that side of him, he did it so naturally and wonderfully that Steve didn’t mind whatsoever having to go through days, weeks, or months of abstinence.

When he’d found his caregiver status, neither Bucky nor him had been surprised. That infatuation of his which led him to stand up to bullies wasn’t just driven by his desire to prove himself, but also by his craving for protecting others. It had always been in his genes, unlike the physique, something that certainly posed a problem. Caregivers were supposed to be big, strong, resilient, and, as if life had decided he wasn’t unlucky enough as it was, Steve hadn’t been neither of those things.

Countless were the times Bucky assured him it didn’t really matter, that he didn’t need a well-built body to be able to take a Little under his wing, though Steve knew better. What Little would like such a weakling as a Caregiver? None. Life should’ve been nicer to him and make him a Baseline, a Little or even a Switcher; but it never was, was it?

“Maybe if you look for a baby,” Bucky had suggested once, and Steve had to disagree with that. A baby required extra care and attention, and Steve doubted he was going to be able to provide that when he had to be paying attention to his own deteriorating health as well. A kid would be a better match, or maybe a teen, though even they failed to show any interest to become Steve’s Little. No matter how much Bucky tried to set him up with someone, they always ended up either choosing Bucky over him or simply leaving.

Then war happened, the enlistments, the rejections, the super soldier serum, and Steve’s life took a dramatic turn. He found himself able to do an endless number of things not even in his wildest dreams he’d imagined he could do, and for the first time in his life he was able to see himself being a proper Caregiver. Of course life had to show him once more time nothing would never be easy for him, and before he had the chance to get a Little, he was forced to take a 70-year nap.

Waking up to a world he barely understood and where all the people he once knew where long gone had been extremely challenging, but surely getting used to it hadn’t been as hard as trying to adopt the only Little in the planet who didn’t want him as a Daddy. Because, why wouldn’t he get fixated with Tony? Why would he start taking the easy way out now?

“We can help you, you know, there are agencies and organizations specialized on matching caregivers and littles, often with pretty good results,” Phil had proposed one day after Tony had thrown a hell of a tantrum. In spite of himself, that had managed to get on Steve’s nerves, and it had taken them more than two weeks to finally made up. Not such a good thing when they both belonged to the same team.

But Steve refused every time that offer was made to him. He wanted Tony, and he was pretty certain the feeling was mutual even if Tony’s stubborn personality made him claim otherwise. He just had to be patient and wait until Tony decided to come around. The forever optimist part of him told him that would eventually happen.

“Oh, I know sweetheart, I know, daddy’s so meanie,” Steve agreed as Tony whined, clearly disliking being pulled away from dreamland without his permission, “but it’s time to wake up,” he announced, and he couldn’t help chuckling when Tony shook his head stubbornly before trying to roll away from him. “Nope, none of that, sleepyhead, sorry.”

Without giving him time to get comfortable again, Steve slid his hands under Tony’s armpits and lifted him out of the crib. The baby’s whines increased considerably because of that, and Steve had to spend several minutes cradling him against his chest, murmuring reassurances as he rocked him, before he decided Tony was calmed enough to lay him down on the changing table.

“Now, let’s get you all nice and comfy, shall we?”

A whimper escaped from Tony’s lips as Steve proceeded to unsnap the crotch of the onesie to reveal the soiled diaper underneath. Tony didn’t quite fight diaper changes as much as he did when he wasn’t fully in his Little headspace, though that didn’t mean he didn’t get distressed because of them. With quick but gently movements, Steve undid the taps, peeled the diaper off, tossed it into the trash, cleaned Tony up with baby wipes as thoroughly as possible, rubbed on some diaper cream across the parts where rashes tended to develop and put a new diaper on.

If it were for Steve, he would spend more time than that during a change, he truly believed it was the perfect opportunity for daddies and babies to develop a tighter bond; unfortunately, Tony begged to differ, and if Steve made a big deal out of it, the only thing he’d manage to accomplish would be to get a pretty cranky baby for the rest of the day. That was certainly something he didn’t want today, not when it’d been almost a month since the last time he had the chance to interact with Tony’s little counterpart.

“All done, sweetpea, you were such a good boy,” Steve praised as he finished snapping the onesie back in place and gathered Tony in his arms once more, hugging him close. “How about some breakfast, huh? Does it sound good? I’m sure our tummy is pretty hungry.” Even if Tony shook his head, Steve made his way to the door, knowing perfectly well a ‘no’ from Tony only meant that stubborn trait of his didn’t limit to one mindset.

“Morning!” Clint greeted cheerfully as soon as Steve stepped into the kitchen, with the world’s biggest grin on his flour-stained face. Tony’s body went rigid in his arms, whimpering quietly as he buried his face in his neck.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby, it’s just Clint and Uncle Phil,” Steve soothed, tightening his grip a tiny bit just in case Tony decided to flee, a questioning eyebrow raised at Phil who was looking at him apologetically.

“I’m sorry, I tried to talked him out of it, but Clint insisted on cooking you two breakfast,” Phil explained, “we already finished making everything, though, we can go if you need more time,” he offered, chin pointed at Tony, ignoring the whine that Clint clearly didn’t even try to hold back.

Hanging out with Clint and Phil was something that’d inevitably happen while Tony was in his baby mindset. Even all the team would eventually gravitate around them if there was enough time for them to do it. It was a way for them to show Tony he was a part of the team – family – regardless of his status.

However, Phil knew, as well as the others, not to rush things, to give Baby Tony enough time to settle before trying to interact with him, otherwise chances were their good intentions backfired. Clint, on the other hand, seemed unaware of such thing – especially when he was Little – and the longer it took Tony to drop into his Little headspace, the harder it was for Phil to keep him at bay when it finally occurred.

“Hey, remember what you promised,” Phil scolded, shooting Clint a just-you-wait look which never failed to make the poor kiddo go completely silent and squirm out of nervousness. Phil was a very affectionate caregiver, nobody was in any doubt about that, but when it came to keeping Little Clint in line, well, he wasn’t afraid of putting his foot down.

“No, no, I think it’s okay, right sweetheart? We don’t mind having breakfast with them, do we?” Steve assured, bouncing Tony slightly as he turned around his head enough to be able to nuzzle his hair. There had been no indication of any discomfort besides the first shock, so Steve figured they’d be okay at least for the time being. Tony might want to remain glued to him – something that was confirmed when Steve walked by the highchair and Tony’s hands clasped the back of his t-shirt as if his life depended on it – but all of them were already used to how clingy he got.
There was a full beat of silence before Clint decided he had certainly been given a green light. Whooping and skipping, he hurried to set up the table while Phil looked at Steve, shaking his head slightly in apparent disapproval. The tiny smile that tugged at the corners of his lips let Steve know it was only a façade.

Steve finished making his way around the kitchen table, pulled a chair out, sat down, and arranged Tony in his lap, not getting surprised when he attempted to pry him away from his neck without success. He chose not to push and allowed Tony to remain hidden, left hand rubbing slow circles onto the baby’s back and eyes fixed on Clint’s cheerful figure as he continued traveling from the kitchen island to the table, carrying all the cutlery, plates and cups they were going to need.

“I convinced daddy to use the fun pan,” Clint informed, his voice proud, bouncing on his chair as Phil slid a couple of pancakes onto his plate.

“They sure look more delicious this way,” Steve praised, holding up three fingers to indicate Phil how many pancakes he should serve him. Getting Tony to eat one pancake, let alone three, would be a real challenge, though Steve wasn’t called optimistic for nothing.

“Yeah!”

It took a lot of petting, soothing words and kisses to coax Tony out of his hiding place, and even then, he insisted on keeping his head down all the time, eyes fixed on his lap. That made the process of feeding him a bit laborious, especially because he withdrew faintly every time Clint talked to him. Phil tried to keep Clint occupied and away from Tony as much as possible without making him pouty, giving Steve enough time and space to entice Tony to ingest almost two pancakes. Considering his eating habits, Steve took that as a win.

While Phil and Clint took charge of the dishes – the former reminded the toddler that cleaning up had been part of their deal – Steve moved to the couch in the living room to feed Tony a bottle. There were a few things Tony wasn’t still comfortable with doing in front of the others, and sucking on a bottle was one of them.

Carefully, after he had him comfortably curled in the crook of his arm, Steve took the lid off the bottle and pushed the nipple against Tony’s lips. The baby took his time to latch on it, throwing glances around the living room as if verifying there was no one but them, and began drinking from it only after he felt sure they were going to be left alone. Steve was certain a goofy smile remained on his face for the entire length of time it took Tony to drain his bottle.

“Here, you do it now,” Clint suggested as he placed some red play dough on Tony’s lap as well as a dinosaur mold. With apprehension written all over his face, Tony looked down at the items, leaning away from them as much as he could.

“It’s okay, baby boy, you can play with them,” Steve encouraged, patting Tony’s thigh and steadying the arm against which Tony was leaning in order to stop him from moving further away.

“Yes! We need a lot more dinosaurs to complete the farm!”

Phil chuckled, earning a pout from Clint.

“What?” Clint asked, cheeks adorably puffed.

“There are no dinosaurs in farms, kiddo,” Phil mocked.

“Tony likes dinosaurs. So, there are gonna be dinosaurs in the farm,” Clint said as if that explanation was the most obvious one in the world. And it kind of was.

Playing with Play Doh, blocks, Lego, puzzles, thinker toys and any stuff that didn’t required real physical activity wasn’t Little Clint’s cup of tea. He was an extremely active toddler, so he preferred entertaining himself with games that kept him somehow moving, like tag, hide-and-seek or a simple ball game – toys for bigger kids would suffice too, such as video games or board games. Much to Clint’s dismay, almost none of those game was compatible with baby Tony’s clingy trait, so if he wanted to play with him, Clint had to settle for boring things (his words).

Everybody knew Clint didn’t really mind. The fact that Tony played with him was in itself more gratifying and enjoyable than the games themselves, and if Clint had to pretend some things were more fun than they truly were, well, it was obvious he was more than willing to do it.

“A dinosaur farm, that’d be awesome, wouldn’t it, darling?” Steve exclaimed. Clint beamed at him, happy for having been backed up. Tony looked up and frown at him, not convinced. “Yes, it would,” he insisted as he took the dough in his hands, kneaded it a couple of times before he began pulling out little chunks. Both kids followed his hands’ movements with utter delight, even Tony who hadn’t quite gotten over his shying-away stage wasn’t able to unglue his eyes from the sculpture Steve was creating.

Once Steve presented them with a small but very accurate replica of a brontosaurus and they both reached for it with evident amazement, he knew he’d spend the rest of the afternoon making many more of them. Not that it was a surprise, one of Little Tony’s favorite activities – besides getting the chance to color them afterwards – was watching him draw, so Steve figured this wasn’t much different.

Wanting to involve them in the process as much as possible, Steve shaped each limb as slowly and minutely as he could to allow Clint mimic his motions and Tony attach the already sculpted parts.

After an hour had gone by, the three of them had managed to produce at least a dozen of dinosaurs which fit perfectly in the farm that Clint had previously build with the Lincoln Logs, and Steve was pretty sure they would’ve continue creating more if the alarm to assemble hadn’t gone off.