Fandom: Marvel - Avengers {MCU}
AU: Domestic Avengers - Let’s pretend they’re in a time bubble, I just want them to be HAPPY okay!
Pairing: Steve/Tony {Stony}
Rating: This is a solid fucking G, basically? Sex implied
Warning(s): None <3
Prompt: "Stony goes through a haunted house, Steve does bobbing for apples for the first time, Tony takes Steve trick or treating"
For: Eric @fiction-is-my-diction
also viewable on ao3!
(Note: Bucky’s halloween costume is actually inspired by this post from @dorkcoffee !! Amazing artist <3)
--
Captain America is a symbol of hope. He’s an American icon, but his reach extends beyond its shores and touches the heart of every dreamer, the fiery soul of every broken and beaten outcast, the spot buried deep in anyone who looks into the face of inequality and inhumane treatment and yearns to kick and scratch bloody stripes into their skin. He’s a hero, a role model, a mythical figure in his own right.
And he’s terrified of robot babies.
Tony can’t believe it, but it’s true - Captain America has fears, and not something so grand and vague as fascism, war, or another metaphoric big bad. His fear is the goddamn animatronic baby in the haunted house crib.
“Steve, it’s not real.”
“I know that!” He groans, fingers digging into Tony’s arm so hard it hurts.
“We can’t leave until we walk past it.”
“I know that too!” His feet seem to be glued to the spot, and the baby’s scripted routine of jerking upright and wailing resets, causing Steve to jerk and yank Tony’s arm nearly out of the socket.
“Steve,” he hisses involuntarily, and the star-spangled crybaby relents slightly, allowing Tony to roll his sore shoulder and grab his wrist instead. “Alright, come on, I’ve got you.”
A soft whimper and at first Steve’s dragging his feet through the small “nursery”, but once the baby lays back down Tony is able to pull him out the draped doorway and into a hall of mirrors.
As they wander through, Steve seems to calm down; he’s almost back to normal by the time they make it to the exit - but Tony can still feel him flinch when a short little vampire pops out for one last jumpscare. The kid must be about sixteen, but Steve glares him down like he’s Red Skull all over again; Tony can’t help but slide him a twenty to make up for what are most likely stained pants as he drags his surly boyfriend across the lawn of the haunted house.
Steve is dead silent - pun intended - and Tony shoulder checks him gently. “They do say it’s the scariest haunted house on the east coast.”
“I am never doing this ever again,” Steve snaps, but the pout says he’s more embarrassed than angry.
“Hey, at least that kid has a story to tell about the time he almost made Captain America cry.”
They show up to the Halloween party fashionably late - a quick pit stop to change into their costumes turned into Tony’s suggestive “Trick or Treat” implications which turned into a quick tumble in the sheets. Eventually, Steve manages to get into his cowboy costume without Tony prying pieces of it back off, even if it means he has to yank Tony’s grim reaper hood down over his entire face.
There’s music playing and lights pulsing when they finally make it into the party, which is conveniently located three floors under their penthouse apartment in Stark Tower.
“The party’s at your house and you show up late?” Rhodey greets them with a grin, an arched brow, and two glasses of scotch, one of which he hands off to Tony while initiating their routine banter. He’s making the most of his robotic leg braces and has committed to being a cyborg for the party, complete with glowing red eye-piece.
“Oh, you know traffic always sucks.”
“You know,” Natasha interrupts, appearing from seemingly nowhere to stand directly beside them. “This is the boring business equivalent of a Dad Joke.”
Tony looks horrified. “You take that back, I am funny.”
“Maybe the first time, if I’m being generous.”
“Hey, Nat,” Steve interjects, casually sliding between them to steer her away from a sputtering Tony and laughing Rhodey. “Where are Sam and Bucky?”
“Just arrived to the party and you’re already heading to the time out corner?”
“The what?”
She grins. “That’s what I call the corner where they’re inevitably snarling and glaring at each other.”
He snorts. “Guess I better go make sure they don’t start another brawl.”
“Nice costume by the way,” she gives him a once-over. Natasha herself is wearing what can only be called a combat ballerina costume. Grey tights and steel-toed black boots, a fluffy pink tutu and bedazzled bodice, hair in a tight bun and war paint streaked on her cheeks.
He can’t help but laugh. “You too.”
She salutes him with her glass of vodka and a dangerous smirk.
He finds his two best friends right where Nat suggested - staring each other down in a little corner lounge space. The armchairs are plush and they’re sprawled in relaxed poses, but the tension in the air does nothing to suggest comfort - in fact, the chairs seem to have been yanked out of place so they can stare unblinking over their bottles of beer. Sam is decked out in what he calls “modern warlock regalia” which is really just a fancy, fitted charcoal gray suit and a velvet magenta duster, both dripping with chains and jewels. Bucky, true to form, has gone the lazy route with his costume. He’s wearing a blousey black shirt with loose sleeves that has a laced front undone to mid-torso, tucked into tight black pants and tall boots with several belts and a red sash.
“Are you a prince, or a pirate?” Steve interrupts their staredown brightly.
“Pirate,” Bucky spits, wiggling his many-ringed fingers and taking a long swig of Sam Adams’ Octoberfest without breaking eye contact.
“Alright, that’s enough,” Steve frowns sternly. “This is a party and we are here to have fun. No more pissing contest, ya hear me!”
“Aw, fine.” Sam is the first to break and cave to societal convention. “I know what to do!”
Bucky is scowling and Sam is grinning and Steve is wary, but Thor enthusiastically grabs them all in a big bear hug as they approach the bucket of water.
“Bobbing for apples?” Bucky’s brow is arched sharply as he squirms away from the embrace, but his relaxed stance betrays his interest.
“On Asgard we call it epli grípa,” Thor explains. “And it is a great game of sport.”
“I saw Thor carrying in the bucket,” Sam explains excitedly. “My cousins and I used to love bobbing for apples as kids.”
“Y’know,” Steve muses aloud, “I don’t think I ever did bob for apples.”
“Wait what?” Bucky frowns. “I did.”
Steve smiles wryly. “I think too many dunks in the school toilet turned me off the concept.”
Sam spins to look at him, incredulous. “You got swirlies?”
“There’s a name for those?”
“Oh yeah,” Tony grins, sliding up behind them and wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist. “I had my fair share, being the misunderstood rich genius that I was.”
Rhodey snorts. “You were a smart-ass punk and everyone could see it.”
“Same thing,” he waves a hand dismissively. “All geniuses are inherently misunderstood.”
“Now!” Thor grins. “Will the Captain be the first to…bob?”
He pauses, and Tony nudges him. “Go on then, Cowboy. Reclaim your honor.”
“Reclaim his honor?” Bucky frowns.
“Don’t you dare!” Steve snaps.
Tony smirks. “If you can catch the apple within three tries, I take the secret……to the grave.”
Natasha, passing by with Pepper and Darcy and a plate of snacks, groans. “Oh, reaper puns? Now it’s getting worse.”
“You shut up, you,” Tony points at her sternly, shaking his scythe, and she sticks out her tongue.
“Fine,” Steve declares, pulling attention back to himself. “I’ll accept your challenge.”
“When have you not accepted a challenge?” Bucky mutters.
Thor claps firmly, grinning broadly. “Yes!”
“I kinda wanna hear the story,” Sam wonders aloud, and Tony winks.
Steve is focused on the tub of water like it hold the secrets of the universe, eyebrows furrowed with concentration.
It’s like watching a blind dog try to find its water dish in the dark. He’s flailing and pecking at the water like a chicken, and Tony Is trying so hard not to pee himself laughing. In the end he goes past three attempts with no success, a fact which seems to drive him further out of spite. Steve is nearly submerging his entire head at this point, and eventually Bucky and Tony have to pull him back by the arms - with an apple clutched firmly in his teeth.
“Good job babe,” Tony smiles, pulling the apple free and taking a bite. “I’m still telling the story though.”
Steve groans, proud grin falling into a resigned expression. “I knoooow….”
Fandom: Marvel - Avengers {MCU}
AU: Non-Heroes AU/Domestic Avengers
Pairing: Steve/Tony {Stony}
Rating: T
Warning(s): None <3
Prompt: "I'm not big on Halloween, so if you are please feel free to do any spooky idea of your choice! If not... I love soulmate fics...? :D"
Halloween Party, Peter’s first Halloween
(Note: In-Universe Soulmates are denoted by matching tattoos like birthmarks, and you can somewhat sense your soulmate’s emotions)
Steve leans into the mirror, carefully pressing his false tooth into place with a dab of squishy denture paste and holding to secure it. After a moment, he releases and turns his head from side to side to check the effect.
“Are you ready yet?” Tony’s voice drifts in from the bedroom, followed by his head popping around the doorframe. “Ooh, rawr, sexy Dracula.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Stop that immediately, Tony.”
“That’s Major Stark to you, actually.”
He can’t help it; Steve’s eyes immediately flick to Tony’s shoulders to see if his green jacket bears the correct insignias. It does, and his spine straightens almost subconsciously.
“Only a Major?” He teases, half curious and half surprised. Tony would normally go for something more impressive - a five-star general even.
“Well, Fury heard I was going in uniform and pitched a fit, because he was a Colonel and apparently if I choose to outrank him then I’m taking my life in my own hands.”
“And you wisely chose not to.”
“Maybe I just like these little gold leaves better than some boring stars?”
“Uh huh.”
“Anyway,” Tony quickly averts the subject, “the sitter will be here around 7, so we have plenty of time to take Peter around the neighborhood and then get him settled back in before the party.”
“Oh, good,” Steve is excited about the party, sure, but if he’s being honest he’s been way more looking forward to taking their son trick or treating. “I’m sure she’s been thoroughly vetted and background checked?”
“I had Pepper run every check under the sun, and then Coulson ran a few that only our lovely government has access to.”
“Definitely not paranoid at all,” Steve smiles fondly.
“When you’re worth a couple billion dollars and met your husband while he was rescuing you from a kidnapper, you have the right to be paranoid.” Tony is frowning now, forehead creased by the little pout, and Steve kisses his brow.
“I know, I know, I’m only teasing.” He smiles. “Besides, we’ll have a large assortment of very dangerous people at the party tonight. I’d like to see any potential kidnapper get past a special ops director and his right hand lady, a former army Colonel, three highly trained spies, two foreign diplomats and their intimidating entourages, a handful of other army personnel, a tech genius with ridiculous security and his scary right hand lady.”
“Y’know out of everyone you just listed, I think I’d put my money on Pepper?”
“Her kickboxing routine is vicious,” Steve admits.
“Natasha is training her,” Tony elaborates. “You didn’t list yourself, by the way.”
“Oh, that’s a given,” Steve waves a hand dismissively. “I’d die for that little boy.”
He can see the love in Tony’s eyes at that statement, and he can actually feel the tightening in his chest through their bond. Instinctively, he reaches out to brush his fingers against the navy blue spiral peeking out from Tony’s collar, a mirror of the crimson one branded on Steve’s sternum.
Tony shivers. “Now it’s your turn to stop immediately.”
Steve pulls back. “You’re right. If I don’t stop now, we’re never going to the party, let alone trick or treating.”
As if summoned by the magic words, their son comes running excitedly into the bathroom. “Daddy! Papa!”
“Peter!” Tony chirps in response, catching the little whirlwind on his way in and hoisting him onto his hip. “Wow! Look at you!”
He giggles excitedly, clapping his pudgy little hands together. “Pider!”
“What?” Steve feigns confusion. “What are you?”
“Pider!” Peter declares proudly. “I’m a pider Daddy!”
“A spider?”
“Yeah!”
“Wow!” Steve smiles. “Did Auntie Nat help you pick that out?”
“Yeah!”
He glances at Tony. “And I guess Auntie Pepper made this costume for you?”
“No!” Peter looks offended. “I help Uncle Cosin make it!”
Blonde eyebrows arch in surprise. “Phil can sew?”
“Battlefield medic at heart, it would seem.” Tony grins. “So, Itsy-Bitsy-Spider, are you ready to go catch some sugar flies?”
“CANDY!” Peter bellows in the way that only excited three-year-olds can, squirming out of Tony’s grip and dropping to the floor. He runs out into the bedroom, human arms waving in the air and costume arms flapping at his sides as he spins in circles.
“Alright Major,” Steve grins, spinning his husband around. “Ahead, march.”
The trick or treating is a massive success. Peter comes home with a bulging pillow case of sugary sweets (and a toothbrush from the dentist with a business card and mini-Twix attached) and for once he doesn’t fight when they try to put him to bed.
“Ninigh Papa,” he grabs Tony’s fingers and kisses them, and Steve can feel the swell of affection that bursts in Tony’s chest. He can tell it’s different from his own by the warm sensation in his soulmark, but he has to admit that he loves Peter just as much as Tony. It may have been a bizarre string of events that brought the three of them together, but every day he thanks whoever’s looking out up there for doing it.
He comes to sit on his other side, and Peter rolls over to grab his fingers and kiss them too. “Ninigh Daddy.”
“Goodnight, Peter.” Tony’s voice is soft, and when they both lean in to kiss his forehead Peter is already snoring gently. They carefully remove their fingers from his grip and rise from the racecar bed, heading into the hall and gently closing the door.
Tony leans back against the wall, and Steve’s breath catches in his throat at the sudden burst of love for his husband. “Come here, Major,” he murmurs, reaching out place a hand on his hip. “I think I’m…. thirsty.”
Tony can’t fight back the laugh that forces its way out at those words. Steve blushes furiously, and Tony feels the burn of embarrassment in his own chest. “No, babe, I’m sorry, that was -” he breaks off into giggles. “You tried.”
Steve laughs. “Shut up and kiss me before I bite you.”
“Oooh,” Tony purrs. “What a way to keep me talking.”
A soft chime sounds from above, and JARVIS pops over the intercom quietly. “The babysitter has arrived, Mr. Stark.”
They groan together, bumping foreheads.
“Thank you JARVIS,” Tony sighs, taking Steve by the hand and heading toward the living room. “We can finish this later. Time to greet the fresh meat and head out.”
“You don’t have to make it sound like we’re executing the poor girl.”
“Only if we need to.”
“Tony.”
