Chapter 1
It was late when Tony woke at last. Or more, early, depending on how you looked at it. He sat up slightly, only then noticing Steve's hand over his torso. He pulled it off, setting the heavy limb back at Steve's side before getting up. He could already hear the coffee grinder going off and smiled, looking up for a split second before trudging off to the kitchen.
He pulled a coffee cup out of the cabinet and leaned against the counter as the kitchen filled with the smell of brewing coffee. The machine beeped and Tony swung around, grasping the handle in his left hand as he poured an ample a out of the dark substance into his cup.
He hummed, taking in the sweet sent and gulping down the steaming coffee. It was hot, burning his throat as it went down, but Tony didn't really care. He needed caffeine in his body. He took a seat at the table with one of his Stark Tablets and got to work filling through emails and responding to the ones he felt like.
A while later, after Tony had gotten up to refill his cup, Steve walked into the kitchen. "What are you doing up so early?" He asked, making a beeline for the coffee.
Tony shrugged, not really wanting to answer the question. Lying wasn't really his forte. Avoidance, however, that he could do very well. He glance up at his boyfriend, the blonde currently in nothing more than boxers. "What about you?"
"I'm always up this early, and that wasn't an answer." Steve said, plopping down next to Tony and locking the Stark Tablet before his boyfriend had the chance to use that as an escape.
Tony let out a sigh and leaned over his coffee cup more, avoiding eye contact with the man. It was childish, yes, but Tony was teetering between head spaces anyway. Especially after the night he had.
He'd gone to bed late, the day seeming to never end as one thing after the other fell onto his plate to be done. He didn't even stay awake enough to cuddle in to Steve the way he always did. Then, for the whole three hours he was asleep, he was pelted with nightmare after nightmare. Afghanistan, New York, Coulson, Loki, and even his father made an appearance in a royal, "Fuck your sleep," nightmare.
Images flashed across his eyelids and he quickly snapped his eyes back open. Steve was looking at him with that concerned puppy face he always got whenever he saw Tony slipping more and more against his will.
"It was nothing." Tony finally said, shifting in his seat a little, unconsciously scooting away from the man's piercing blue eyes.
"It doesn't look like nothing." Steve moved closer to Tony, walking around the table until he came to his boyfriend's side and took the man's calloused and scared hands in his own. "Tony, baby, please tell me what's wrong."
And that was it. That one phrase enough to send him over the edge and make him little more than a balling toddler. He sank into Steve, wrapping his arms around the man and holding on for dear life. He was tired. More then he thought possible. His eyes wanted to close but his mind was running five-hundred miles a minute. The crushing stress was causing his eyes to blur and his stomach to do flips.
"Breath, baby. Breath." Steve said, hand gently running up and down the back of Tony's head, giving the boy a pattern to sync his breathing to.
Tony let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, tucking his face further into Steve's chest. His hand slipped into his mouth, forefinger curling around his nose as he breathed in and out, following Steve's words.
When Steve looked down at Tony's face once more, they boy was little more than a crying bag of cuddles. "Alright, baby boy. I think it's time for a bottle, huh? And some rocking and cuddling." He looked down to see Tony rocking his head no, eyes squeezed shut. "Yes. You need sleep, baby."
Tony let out a whine, but Steve ignored it and stood, supporting all of Tony's weight as he walked the boy back to a spare room on their floor. This was where they kept all of the things they needed when Tony was small: diapers, bottles, powder, toys, a crib and changing station, along with a few other things. He place Tony on the changing table and got to work undressing him, taking away anything that would make Tony feel big. Even his wrist watch was removed and sat in a basket.
Steve couldn't begin to count how many times he'd seen the arc reactor, the only thing keeping his boyfriend alive. But it still amazed him. The cure on the metal, the glow that it gave off, the difference between metal and flesh. But they came together so beautifully and it took away Steve's breath.
It didn't take long for Steve to dress the boy in a thicker-than-normal diaper and a footie with Captain America shields; Tony's favorite. Letting the boy have his thumb but grabbing a pacifier, he picked the boy up and cradled him as he walked back into the kitchen with a bottle, filling it with milk and warming it up for a few seconds before taking a spot on the large lazy-boy style chair to rock. Steve held the bottle up to Tony's lips, wiggling out his thumb and sliding the nipple in softly.
"There we go, good boy. Some nice warm milk will help you, huh." He smiled as Tony's dark brown eyes looked him over. Steve just could never figure out how kids did that; staring with a look that could pull you apart and put you together at the same time.
Tony studied every inch of Steve's face as the rocking started, and soon, his eyes couldn't stay open any longer. He liked being an adult. He liked driving cars too fast and drinking and hanging with the team. And being Iron Man. He really liked that. But this was something he also liked--being in Steve's arms and sapping his warmth as he gently moved the chair back and forth at just the right pace.
His head was so fuzzy form all the stuff of the day before, he just wanted everything to be quite for a second. To be free of all the voices in his head yelling at him, not to mention the real ones that were even louder. Steve made them all go away. He always had. Even when Tony didn't really know Steve, and just knew Captain America. The poster he hung above his bead was usually the only thing that really calmed him down.
His blue eyes were simi-hidden behind the old-style mask and the determined look on the old World War Two poster, but he was still somehow calming. That may of had something to do with the fact that he was more propaganda than anything, and meant to calm people in a time of war. But it felt special to Tony after another round of Howard's bullshit.
And now, it was more than just a poster. And that was the nicest part of all.
Steve watched as Tony's eyes flittered for a little bit before finally settling closed. His breathing steadied and the blond could fell the boy relax more than ever. Steve enjoyed the moment for a second before deciding he should put Tony to bed and get ready for the rest of the day.
If Tony was slipping this hard, they would need time to ride it out until he could really be "big" again. The brunet would defiantly resist for a bit, but a weekend of little time may be just the right thing for them both.