So, I was writing, and this happened #Twooo!
Peter sat by the lift, the three year old recently done with their nappy-change, so now sat in a pastel-blue top with white stars and his currently-creaseless, white nappy.
“Petey-Pie...” Tony says, attempting to get his fussy toddler away from the penthouse entrance: Harley had already dropped off and should now be fast asleep in the twins’ crib.
Peter lets out a wordless, sulky yell, scooting away from Tony.
“Pops!” Peter snaps, glaring at Tony.
“He won’t be back yet, sweetheart,” Tony says, trying to help Peter understand.
“Will!” Peter snaps, “Pops Will!”
Tony is tired, he’s still got forms to sign and-
Harley had escaped their crib again.
Tony lets out a soft groan, as Peter points at the lift door.
Harley looks at the door, then at Peter and, after a moment, yells a very loud “NO!”
“Yeah!” Peter snaps, Tony quickly moving to grab the two, though only Harley is willing, Peter scooching away again.
Tony gives up; at this rate, if he tried forcing Peter to go to sleep, Peter will not stop yelling and probably set off Harley.
So, he’ll let Harley play with his toys on the couch, by Tony, then when Peter drops off he can take them both back to their crib...
Tony tries to ignore the worry in his gut as Peter, now surrounded by five of his most loyal soft toys, the Captain Bear tightly held in his little arms, the toy’s twin, an Iron Bear, in Harley’s arms.
Harley drops off again, leaning against Tony, though Peter continues to sit at the doorway, not even taking into account anything Tony says, ignoring the sippy-cup at his side.
Tony looks at the clock on his StarkPad.
It’s past midnight; Christmas Eve had just become Christmas Day.
“Pete-” Tony starts, though then Peter sits up straighter, Tony just about hearing the lift as it passed the floor two storeys down.
The lift opens, revealing a muddy, smoke-covered Captain America.
Peter lets out a loud, happy yell, waking Harley, as Steve finally spots the quieter of his two sproglets at his feet, holding their arms out towards him.
“Heyyy, what are you doing up?” Steve asks, carefully propping his shield against the wall, looking around for something to wipe his hands clean on, though Peter lets out a pouty “Poppa!”
Steve gives up, moving to scoop Peter up, only for another, equally small child to tackle him, wrapping their arms around his neck.
Peter lets out a low whine, Steve scooping up Peter with his free hand.
Peter leans against his chest, as Tony stands up, smiling softly.
“Tony, the Sun’s already set, what are-” Steve starts, though Tony can only bring himself to greet his husband with a warm kiss.
“Peter refused to go to bed until you returned,” Tony whispers, as Peter finally fell asleep, snuggled up pn Steve’s shoulder as Harley is quick to follow.
Really?” Steve asks, voice equally soft, though it cracks slightly as Tony takes Harley, being careful of the ring of toys and the Paddington-Bear-themed sippy cup.
“He wouldn’t even move from where he was sitting. Harley broke out of their cot again and then dropped off by me on the sofa, until Peter woke him, of course.”
Steve’s face goes from surprise, to worry, to that soft, sappy warmth Tony couldn’t help but reflect.
“Well then, looks like I should start having a hometime, myself.”
Tony can’t resist giving his hubby another kiss, though this time he gets a mouthful of soot, making him have tourn away, disgust twisting his features.
“Shower, now,” he says, “I’ll bathe these two, again, though I have a feeling putting them back in their cot is a bad idea.”
“They can sleep in our bed tonight,” Steve agrees, “And if you need any help with Harley...”
“He takes after his Dada,” Tony smirks, “Definitely has that Stark brattiness.”
Thirty minutes later, Peter and Harley are cuddled up between their parents, though Peter had refused to relinquish his grip on Steve until Steve had just bathed with Peter instead of separately, gently holding Peter slightly above the water, cleaning him down himself as Tony got Harley dressed in a new set of jammies.
Steve doesn’t realise Tony has fallen asleep himself, until Steve’s “I love you” is answered with soft breaths.
Careful of their children, Steve leans over to kiss Tony’s forehead.
“Goodnight,” he whispers, the weariness from fighting and the soft smell of Harley and Peter’s baby-shampoo sending him off to sleep...
