Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/920272.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      The_Avengers_(Marvel_Movies)
  Relationship:
      Steve_Rogers/Tony_Stark
  Character:
      Steve_Rogers, Tony_Stark
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_College/University, Mpreg, Teen_Pregnancy, Work_In
      Progress, On_Hiatus
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-10 Updated: 2013-11-07 Chapters: 6/? Words: 23430
****** The Cost ******
by Tito11
Summary
     It's not easy being sixteen and pregnant, and it's even harder when
     the guy who got you that way refuses to date you because he thinks
     you're too young. Steve knows all that, of course, because Tony
     complains about it all the time, but he's doing his best, really. He
     had a hard enough time resisting Tony before they knew anything about
     this baby, but now, it's twice as hard as before. Throw in Tony's
     issues with his family and the usual shenanigans by the friends, and
     Steve thinks he's going to be damn lucky to survive the school year.
Notes
     Whoop! I accidentally WIP'd again. Oh well, at least I have this one
     all mapped out, so it shouldn't take too long to finish :) to all my
     loyal mpreg supporters out there, this isn't the pregnant!tony fic I
     was planning on writing, the one that's part of the tribal 'verse,
     but that one'll happen eventually, i swear. in the meantime, here's
     this
***** Chapter 1 *****
They meet at a frat party. Steve isn’t sure how he ends up at there, only that
it starts with Clint insisting he just needs to run in for five minutes then
never coming back, and ends with Steve standing awkwardly between the drinks
table and the ficus tree. He’s not sure where exactly Clint is now, but his
efforts to find him had only ended with Steve walking in on three separate
couples in various states of undress and also getting a beer spilled all down
his shirt. Steve would just leave, but Clint has the only remaining set of keys
to the dorm room. Also, he’s slightly worried about whatever trouble Clint
might have gotten himself into and doesn’t just want to leave him here all
alone.
At least it’s a weekend, Steve thinks reasonably. It’s not like he has class or
anything tomorrow. There’s no reason, apart from his awkwardness in social
situations, that he can’t stay for a little while longer at least. When Clint
finally does turn back up he’ll be getting a piece of Steve’s mind and that’s
for sure, but until then, Steve can hang out. He’ll be fine, really.
Or, that’s what he thinks, anyway. Twenty minutes later, after almost being
accosted by a drunken football player and molested by a drunken cheerleader,
Steve’s starting to rethink his decision. It’s not that Steve doesn’t know how
to have a good time, but he’s never been a drinker and being the only sober
person in the house is apparently like wearing a neon sign that he wants a
fight. Steve’s never backed down from a fight, but he is slightly more wary now
after his last growth spurt than he was before, back when he was scrappy but
little. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. If it comes down to it, he’ll do what
he has to, but it’d be pretty far from a fair fight with his opponent wasted
like this.
That’s why Steve flinches a little when someone taps him on the shoulder. He
hopes it’s Clint, ready to go, but when he turns around, he doesn’t recognize
the kid in front of him. It’s a dark haired guy, very attractive but also quite
young looking.
“Hey,” the kid says. “Saw how you handled that jock. Nice work. Thought you
were gonna have to put him on his ass.”
“Thanks,” Steve says, feeling awkward again. “I, uh, I’m Steve.”
The kid’s eyes crinkle. “Nice to meet you, Steve,” he says, holding out the
hand that’s not carrying his red solo cup full of alcohol. “I’m Tony. You wanna
go someplace quiet and talk?”
“Yes,” Steve says gratefully. Clint’s on his own, he decides. “I’d like that.”
“Great,” Tony says, flashing him a wicked smile. “Let’s go outside and ‘take a
walk.’”
The way he says it, Steve can practically hear the air quotes, but he likes the
guy’s confidence. Plus, well, Steve’s only human, and even if Tony only wants
in his pants, Steve’s not sure that’s something he doesn’t want. He has high
hopes for a long-term relationship eventually, though not necessarily with this
guy- they only just met after all- but with someone, someday. In the meantime,
though, there’s no reason he can’t get go home with this guy tonight.
They make their way back out onto the street together. The air is slightly
chilly, so Steve pulls his jacket back on. It had been hot in the house, with
all the bodies and the alcohol, so Steve had just been holding it uncomfortably
in his arms. He’d dropped it briefly, during the altercation with the football
player, but the rest of the time he’d just been clutching to it like a
lifeline. It feels good now, to have it on, instead.
They make small-talk as they walk, but it’s not as awkward as Steve was afraid
it might be. The problem is, anytime Steve feels even the slightest attraction
to someone, he immediately becomes tongue-tied and uncomfortable. He just never
knows what to say to get someone to like him. The thing about Tony, though, as
Steve quickly finds out, is that he talks enough for the both of them. By the
time they’ve been walking for ten minutes or so, Steve feels like he knows
everything about Tony. Or, at least, everything he’s willing to say, which is
still an awful lot. He learns all about Tony’s double major (physics and
engineering), his latest project for class (a self-aware learning robot he’s
named Dummy) and his apartment (a two-bedroom place about twenty minutes from
campus with a very nice master bedroom). Steve in turn has been prompted to
reveal his own major (art with a specialization in painting), his latest
project (a series of stylized portraits of all his friends), and his own living
accommodations (a tiny dorm room that’s just barely big enough for him and
Clint to share).
By the time Tony says, “This is the place,” at an upscale apartment building,
Steve has been forced to conclude several things. First, while Tony certainly
seems young, he’s a junior in college, which means he’s got to be older than he
looks. Second, though they’re doubtless both on their best behavior tonight,
trying to impress one another, Steve feels a connection to the guy in a way he
hasn’t felt in a long time, not since Peggy in high school. If the rest of
tonight goes well, Steve’s thinking he might like to get to know Tony, as a
friend or maybe even something more.
Tony takes his hand in the elevator, which Steve himself would have done back
while they were outside if he’d had the confidence. Tony apparently knows no
fear, though, if the way he casually reaches over and grabs Steve’s hand with
his own is any indication. Steve clings to it, nervous again, now that they’re
in the building.
As it turns out, “nice” had been something of an understatement in terms of
Tony’s apartment.
“What do you think of the place?” Tony asks as they walk through the door.
Steve looks around, at all of the sleek, modern furniture, the carefully chosen
and obviously very expensive paintings on the walls, and makes another
conclusion: whether he acts like it or not, Tony is apparently very well off.
He drops Tony’s hand and goes over to inspect one of the paintings, a bright
mishmash of color and emotion.
“Is this Pollock?” he asks, looking over his shoulder. Tony, rummaging around
at the bar, shrugs.
“I have no idea,” he tells him. “Pepper picked those out.”
Steve takes one last hard look at the piece, then goes back over to Tony, who
is, after all, the main attraction of tonight’s show. “Pepper?” he asks,
curiously.
“Do you want gin or scotch?” Tony asks instead of answering. “I’ve also got
some really great wine I could uncork, if you want that instead.”
“Just water,” Steve tells him. “I’m not much of a drinker.”
“That’s a shame,” Tony says, but dutifully pours water instead. He also pours
himself a scotch, while he’s at it. “You seem like you’d be a fun drunk.” He
slides the glass of ice water across the bar to Steve, who catches it and takes
a sip. It’s good, very refreshing.
“Pepper’s my girlfriend,” Tony tells him casually, and Steve chokes on his
water. He sets his glass down quickly, and focuses on breathing. Tony pats his
back awkwardly while he coughs, but Steve shrugs him off.
“Your girlfriend?” he asks, when he can speak again.
“Yeah,” Tony says slowly, obviously unsure what the problem is. “As in, my
friend who is a girl. Strictly speaking, she’s on my father’s payroll, but I’ve
always thought of her as a friend. Is that a problem for you? ‘Cause, I gotta
tell you man, we just met and if you’re restricting my access to friends
already, even I can tell this isn’t going to be a healthy relationship.”
“Oh,” Steve says, feeling stupid, even though he’s pretty sure that
miscommunication was Tony’s fault. “No, never mind. I just thought you meant
something else.”
“Right,” Tony says, giving him a narrow look. Then he brightens. “Well. Do you
want to see the bedroom now?”
Steve does, and not just because he’s curious about whatever paintings Tony’s
got hidden in there. He nods, rather shyly, and Tony grins. He grabs Steve’s
hand and guides him down a hallway. They pass two doors before getting to the
one Tony wants, one of which is a bathroom and the other what Steve assumes
must be the spare bedroom, though instead of a bed and dresser it contains a
workbench with piles upon piles of machinery and wires scattered around it. The
bedroom, though, the master bedroom, is as nice as Tony made it out to be. It’s
got a large mahogany bed in it, obviously expensive, with more pillows than
Steve would even know what to do with and a duvet that looks like it could keep
a person warm through an ice age.
Tony grins when he sees Steve looking at the bed, and pulls him over to it.
“Here we are,” he says, and reaches up to put a hand on Steve’s cheek. “Let me
show you just how great this room really is.”
He stands on his tiptoes to press a short kiss to Steve’s mouth and Steve lets
him, enjoying it. He doesn’t have much experience with this sort of thing, just
a few fumbles here and there with Peggy and one clumsy and quickly abandoned
attempt with Clint, so he thinks it’s probably a good thing that Tony’s taking
charge. He blushes terribly when Tony’s hands find his belt, but that is the
whole point of this, after all. He’s not sure what to do with his hands while
Tony’s getting his pants off. He thinks maybe he should try to get Tony’s
clothes off, too, but he’s not sure how to maneuver his hands around Tony’s, so
he just lets them hang by his sides, instead, until Tony prompts him to raise
them to get his jacket and shirt off. Before Steve even knows what’s happening,
he’s standing completely naked in front of a fully-clothed Tony and blushing
like mad.
“You’re shy, huh?” Tony says, laughing a bit but not meanly. He pushes Steve
backward to sit on the bed and begins to strip his own clothes off. His
movements are quick and efficient, and Steve’s just grateful he’s not turning
it into a show, because he’s not sure he’d survive it. Tony’s even more
attractive naked; he’s small, compact, but very well built. Steve’s seen
hundreds of people naked from drawing models in classes, and he can tell that
once Tony gets over the coltish look lingering from his teenage years, he’s
going to muscle out nicely. He’s probably only about twenty, after all, so he’s
got time to grow into himself.
“That’s okay,” Tony continues, advancing on Steve. He straddles Steve’s legs on
the bed and shoves him backward so he’s lying down with Tony on his lap. “I
like shy. Nice, refreshing change from the harpies I usually hook up with.”
It’s crass, Steve thinks, for Tony to mention other people he’s slept with
while Steve’s in his bed, but then Tony kisses him again, in earnest this time,
and Steve forgets to be insulted. Tony’s mouth is hot and wet and his tongue
finds its way into Steve’s mouth. Steve never knows what to do with his own
tongue in situations like these, but he gives it his best, brushing his tongue
against Tony’s. Tony responds well to that, moaning and coming at him harder,
with tongue and teeth both.
They kiss like that, hot and rough, until Steve becomes comfortable with it,
mimicking Tony’s motions and using them back against him. He even gets to make
what he feels is the start of a very good love bite on Tony’s neck before Tony
pulls back and grins at him. Steve feels a swoop in his stomach at the sight
and thinks, this is it.
“Wanna fuck me?” Tony asks casually, like it’s no big deal.
Steve feels himself blush harder. He can’t make his mouth work properly, so he
just nods.
“Great,” Tony says, and climbs off Steve’s lap to rummage around in the bedside
table drawer. Steve gets a great view of his backside while he’s at it,
sticking up in the air like Tony’s not embarrassed whatsoever about letting it
all show. Steve reaches out without really knowing what he’s doing and ghosts
his hand along the left cheek.
“Whoa!” Tony says, jumping a little, and looks back at him over his shoulder.
His expression is startled, but pleased. “Give a guy a little warning, huh,
buddy?”
“S-sorry,” Steve manages, starting to pull his hand back, but Tony reaches back
and grabs it, holding it there.
“No, it’s okay. Keep doing what you’re doing. Just scared me, is all.”
He lets go of Steve’s hand and goes back to digging through the drawer. Steve
lets himself touch again, confident now that it’s okay to do so. He slides his
hand across the smooth skin of first one cheek, then the other. Then,
cautiously, he lets his finger slide between them to press at the hole there.
Tony’s breath catches, but he pushes back, so Steve thinks it’s fine to keep
going. He rubs at the spot with two fingers, then circles it with one, thinking
about getting his fingers, his dick inside there.
Tony lets him play for a few minutes, then he pulls away. “Got something that
might help,” he says, turning to face Steve again. His face is red, now, too,
and his breathing is slightly uneven. He holds up a bottle of lube and Steve
reaches out with shaking fingers to take it.
“Thanks,” he says quietly, then adds, before he can lose his nerve. “How do you
want it?”
“Switch me places,” Tony says instantly. “I want you behind me.”
Steve moves, letting Tony take his place in the middle of the bed. He settles
on his hands and knees and Steve motions for Steve to kneel up behind him. It
feel awkward again, so Steve opens the lube for something to do with his hands.
He pours too much, accidentally, and some spills down onto the nice cover, but
Steve ignores it. He brings his now-wet fingers up again to touch where he’d
had them before. He very carefully pushes one in. He’s never done this before,
except to himself on those rare nights when Clint goes out alone, but he knows
how it goes. In and out, in and out, until Tony’s moving back against him. Then
he adds another. By the time he’s got three fingers moving inside the tight,
tight heat of Tony’s body, Tony’s pushing back against him with every thrust.
“More,” Tony demands. “Get your dick inside me. Like, now.”
Reluctantly, Steve pulls his fingers out. They make a wet little sound as he
pulls them out, but Steve’s too caught up to be embarrassed. He just grabs the
lube again as best he can with sticky fingers and coats himself. He lines
himself up carefully and then slowly, very slowly pushes inside.
The noise Tony makes as Steve gets all the way inside him is half a cry and
half a moan, and goes to Steve’s head immediately. The heat is incredible and
the clench and drag of it feel unreal. His hips stutter all on their own,
without his permission, and Tony reaches back to grab his hip.
“Give me a minute,” he says, and his voice is a hoarse whisper. “You might be
the biggest I’ve ever taken.”
If any blood at all was leftover from the current activities, Steve’s sure he
would blush at that. Instead, he just waits, as still as he can be under the
circumstances. Finally Tony looks back at him and gives him a nod, and Steve
lets himself go. He thrusts, trying to go slow at first but not quite
succeeding. He’s rougher than he means to be, knows his hands must be leaving
bruises on Tony’s hips, but Tony just cries out with every thrust and pushes
back against him.
It’s all too much for Steve, and he knows that it’s going to be over before
it’s even really started. He only lasts a matter of minutes more before he
comes, almost accidentally, collapsing over Tony’s back and panting wetly into
his shoulder. It’s not a great position, and he’s slightly embarrassed about
it, once he comes back to himself enough realize it. He’s also embarrassed
about the fact that he left Tony to jerk himself off. He pulls out slowly and
looks around for something to clean them off with. He sees his shirt on the
floor and decides to sacrifice it for the sake of appearing even slightly
competent at this whole thing. He grabs it and cleans himself off quickly, then
does his best for Tony, who’s collapsed panting on the bed and has Steve’s come
slowly leaking out of him.
After he’s done what he can, Steve tosses the shirt back down onto the floor,
unsure of what to do now. Tony solves that problem nicely, though, by rolling
over and grinning at him.
“That was good,” he says, apparently willing to overlook all of Steve’s sexual
shortcomings. “But I bet we can do better. Wanna stick around for a while, get
some sleep?”
“Sure,” Steve says easily. After all, he did just have sex with this guy and
despite Tony’s words, Steve knows it wasn’t very good. Nothing else that might
happen could possibly be as embarrassing as that.
Tony somehow manages to wriggle his way under the covers on the blanket without
getting off the bed first, but Steve stands up, waits until Tony is settled
before climbing under too. Tony clings to him immediately, and though Steve
wouldn’t have taken him for a cuddler, he goes with it, puling Tony as close as
possible. He’s drained from the sex and without even really meaning to, he
falls asleep with Tony in his arms.
 
The next morning, Steve wakes to Tony grinning up at him. “Want to go for round
two?” he asks, and yes, Steve does. They have sex again, and this time Steve
knows what to expect, so he does a much better job of keeping it together. He
even gets Tony off before he comes himself, which is a huge accomplishment in
his book. It’s not until afterward, when they’re lying together, panting,
staring up at the ceiling, that Steve realizes something.
“We didn’t use a condom,” he says, and even he can hear the horror in his
voice. That’s the number one rule of sex and somehow they forgot about it.
“Oh, shit,” Tony says, sitting up. “You’re right! I can’t believe I forgot
that. I’m usually so careful! I was digging for some last night when you
started molesting me. Shit!”
“I’m clean,” Steve tells him at once. He was pretty much a virgin before last
night, so there’s no way he has anything. He just hopes Tony can say the same.
“Me too,” Tony tells him, and Steve breathes out a sigh of relief. “I get
tested all the time, I swear. We’ll just have to remember to be more careful
next time.”
“Next time,” Steve repeats slowly, liking the idea. He likes Tony and he likes
the sex, and even if Tony just wants the sex for now, Steve’s sure he can
convince him to give something like a relationship a try, if this all works
out. “Yeah, we can do that.”
He gets up his nerve then adds, “Do you want to go out with me tonight? My
friends Clint and Natasha are playing tonight at a club tonight. It’s eighteen
and over, so if you’re not twenty-one yet, that’s okay.”
“About that,” Tony says, and he looks more nervous and awkward than Steve’s
seen him, thus far. “Um. I’m not exactly eighteen yet, either.”
“What?” Steve asks, feeling himself go pale. “But you’re in college! You can’t
be that young, right?” When Tony doesn’t answer right away, Steve repeats,
“Right?” rather loudly and hysterically.
“I’m sixteen,” Tony admits.
“Oh God,” Steve says, leaning back against the headboard for support. “I’m
going to hell.”
“Hey,” Tony says defensively. “Sixteen’s the age of consent. That means it’s
legal, even if you were fifty.”
“It’s still too young,” Steve insists, because it is. He’s robbing the cradle
here and he knows it. He thinks of what he was like at sixteen and shudders to
think of the decisions he might have made under different circumstances. Like
say, for example, if he was already in college at that age. “Tony, we can’t do
this again.”
“Fine,” Tony tells him and he sounds pissed, but looks so very calm and
collected. He gets out of bed, grabs Steve’s clothes up off the floor and
throws them to him. “Get out, then.”
“Wait,” Steve says, desperately, clinging to his clothes and climbing out of
bed, too. He needs to fix this. He’s already made a huge mess of the whole
thing, but that doesn’t mean it’s not fixable. He likes Tony, even if he’s way
too young to be Steve’s boyfriend. “Can’t we still be friends?”
“Fuck you,” Tony says, angrily. Then he stops, tilts his head and stares at
Steve for a long moment. “Actually,” he says slowly, “retract that. I changed
my mind. Yes, yes we can be friends. Pick me up at eight for the gig tonight.
I’ll just bribe the bouncer, it’ll be fine.”
Then, before Steve can even process all that, Tony’s gone, out of the room and
into the bathroom. Steve hears the door lock, then the water start. He sighs.
There’s nothing for it now, he figures, and starts to get dressed. He’s going
to have to go along with this. It’s not going to be easy, with all the guilt
he’s got now and of course the desire that he can’t do anything about. Still,
he wants to get to know
Tony, and he’s going to do it, come hell or high water.
He waits around the apartment long enough to realize Tony’s not coming back out
until Steve’s gone, so he goes back to his dorm, instead, taking note of Tony’s
address as he goes. When he gets back to his room, Clint’s there, snoring like
a chainsaw and smelling like a brewery. Steve shoots him a dirty look, because
this is all his fault, really.
Steve spends the day painting his emotions out, trying to get rid of the guilt
for having sex with someone so young. It works, if only a bit, because Steve
only feels slightly bad about it by the time he goes to pick Tony up that
night. The kid’s an instant hit with Clint and Natasha, even if neither of them
shows it. Also, Tony’s clothes are practically painted on and Steve spends the
entire night trying not to want what he wants. Still, nothing untoward happens,
even when Steve drops Tony back off and they make plans to hang out again soon.
It’s not easy, Steve thinks as he’s walking back to campus, but it’s doable.
Steve can absolutely just be friend with Tony without there being anything more
between them. He can do it, he really can.
It probably would work out, too, if not for the news Tony springs on him two
months later.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Tony is an immaculate dresser. Steve learns this very quickly after meeting
him. Every time Steve goes to pick him up from his apartment or meets him
somewhere for one of their nights out together (which Tony refers to as dates,
despite Steve’s insistence that they’re just friends) Tony’s always dressed to
the nines, with skin-tight shirts under designer jackets and jeans so tight
they look painted on. It makes it exceptionally difficult for Steve to stick to
his principles and not take Tony to bed, which he suspects is the whole point
of the thing. Somehow he manages, though, and by the time they hit the two-
month mark on what Tony calls their relationship and Steve calls their
friendship, they still haven’t had sex again. Steve thinks of it as a major
accomplishment, especially given the many provocative things Tony’s done over
those two months to try to get Steve into bed. The clothes are only the
beginning with Tony, as Steve’s come to understand.
The clothes are important, though. Tony likes to look nice, even when he’s only
getting dressed to go to the lab, where his clothes will inevitably become
ripped or stained within minutes. Tony likes people to look at him, and he
especially likes when Steve looks at him. That’s why Steve’s immediately
concerned when he knocks on Tony’s door one night so they can go to a gig
together, and Tony answers the door looking like a train wreck. He’s wearing a
too-large white t-shirt with sweat stains around the collar and pajama pants
that seem to be held up by a prayer. His feet are bare and his hair is standing
straight up, though not like he did it on purpose. He’s also sweaty and pale.
Since Steve’s seen Tony pull off being butt naked with complete grace, the fact
that he looks extremely uncomfortable right now is also worrying.
“Are you okay?” Steve asks, stepping inside. “You look terrible.”
“Just what every girl likes to hear,” Tony says wryly, closing the door behind
him.
“You do, though,” Steve persists. “Are you sick?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Tony says, leading the way over to the sofa and
plopping down heavily onto it.
Steve sometimes wishes Tony would be less coy about certain things, but knows
by now that if Tony doesn’t want to tell him what’s going on, Steve’s got next
to no chance of forcing him to talk. Instead, he just sighs and sits down next
to Tony.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asks. He knows intellectually that Tony’s got
a lot of life experience and can take care of himself, but he looks young like
this, in these clothes that are way too big, and it brings out Steve’s
protective side.
“Well,” Tony starts and Steve leans forward, listening intently. If Tony’s
actually going to let him help, Steve’s not going to take the chance of not
hearing every single word. Except, all Tony comes out with is, “You could
murder me,” and Steve slumps back in his seat.
“Tony,” Steve says reprovingly. “Be serious.”
“I am being serious,” Tony insists, leaning back and crossing his arms in a
pout. “I hate this, Steve. I’ve been puking all day and I do mean ALL day. I’m
not sure how much more of this I can take and it’s only just started.”
“Maybe I can do something to help,” Steve says, wracking his brain, trying to
think of what his mother used to do for him when he was sick as a child. “Would
ginger ale help? Or soup? I know a pretty good recipe for homemade chicken
noodle soup, if you want.”
He’s trying to help, but Tony just brings a hand up to his mouth and swallows
hard. “Be right back,” he manages before he’s up and out of the room. Within
moments, Steve can hear him retching in the bathroom.
“Crap,” Steve says to himself and goes to get a glass of water from the
kitchen. He grabs one of the red solo cups Tony has and not his fancy glasses,
just in case Tony’s hands are shaking. He doesn’t want Tony getting cut by
broken glass while he’s already this sick. He fills the cup with tap water,
because even if Tony makes a face about drinking out of the tap, drinking
bottled water all the time is one extravagance Steve won’t stand for; it tastes
just the same and what Tony doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
He finds Tony in the bathroom, dry heaving over the toilet. “Hey, buddy,” Steve
says, putting his hand on Tony’s shoulder.
“Please don’t touch me,” Tony says in a rush, pulling away from him sluggishly.
He must be in a bad way if he’s minding his Ps and Qs and Steve frowns.
“Can I help?” he asks, even though he knows he probably can’t.
“Go away,” Tony says miserably, pressing his face against the toilet seat. It’s
probably cool and comfortable on Tony’s overheated skin, but it’s not exactly
sanitary. Every move Tony makes just makes it more and more clear how terrible
he feels.
“Maybe it would help if you drank some water,” Steve says, holding out the cup
to him. Tony’s eyes flick up to it, but he shakes his head.
“Can’t,” he says. “Won’t stay down.”
“What about Gatorade?” Steve asks. It’s got plenty of electrolytes, at least,
and while Steve’s pretty vague on what those actually are, he’s heard they’re
good for hydration.
Tony just turns his head and starts to retch again.
It’s going to be a long night, Steve thinks, and pulls out his phone to text
Clint that they can’t make it to the show.
 
After twenty more minutes in the bathroom in which Tony just keeps on vomiting
long after all that’s coming up is stomach acid, Steve finally manages to get
him out of the bathroom and into bed. He fetches a bucket from the hall closet,
just in case, and tucks Tony in. The press of blankets always comforts Steve
when he’s sick, so he thinks it might help Tony, too. By the time he gets back
from the kitchen with more water, though, Tony’s already thrown the blankets
off.
“Steve,” Tony says hoarsely, and Steve’s horrified to find the kid’s eyes are
filling with tears. “You really need to kill me, Steve.”
“Tony,” Steve says sadly, brushing his dark curls out of his face. “I’m not
going to kill you. You just need to sleep this off. You’ll be fine tomorrow.”
“No,” Tony says, leaning into Steve’s touch. “I won’t. I won’t ever be okay,
Steve, not for months and months.”
Steve thinks this is probably just teenage exaggeration, but he figures he’d
better ask anyway, just in case there really is something wrong with Tony,
something more serious than the stomach flu. “What do you mean?”
“Sometimes the morning sickness lasts the whole pregnancy,” Tony says
miserably, and that’s when Steve decides he needs to sit down for a while.
“P-pregnancy?” he asks shakily. That can’t be right; he must have misheard.
“Yeah,” Tony says. He wiggles around on the bed so he can lay with his head in
Steve’s lap. “Sorry. I was gonna tell you. It’s no big deal, though, you know?”
And that’s just such typical Tony behavior that Steve laughs a little
hysterically and reaches down to stroke his hair again. Only Tony could say
with one breath that something was causing him extreme pain and discomfort then
say it was no big deal with the next. And of course, all that isn’t even
counting the reality of the situation, because, oh God, a baby! What’s Steve
going to do with a baby? He can barely afford to take care of himself some
months, let alone feeding and clothing a baby. Babies are expensive, too, and
they need all kinds of things: diapers and formula and clothes, and all kinds
of things Steve can’t even think of right now. Steve’s going to have to quit
school, get a full-time job instead of the part-time one he has now. He’s going
to have to be the responsible one here, because Tony’s only sixteen. Oh, God.
Tony’s only sixteen! This is a teenage pregnancy and Steve is the delinquent
who did it. He’s definitely going to hell.
“Tony,” he says, finally. “In what universe is this no big deal? I just-
there’s no way I can afford a baby!”
“Don’t be dumb, Steve,” Tony says, and he sounds amused, even through the tears
rolling slowly down his face. “Did you forget how much money I have?”
“Oh,” Steve says. He had, actually, forgotten that Tony was rich. It doesn’t
change anything, though. This is Steve’s child, so he’s going to have to
provide for it. And not just money, either, but time and love. He’s going to
have to be responsible for another person’s safety and well-being, and he’ll be
damned if that’s not a scary thought. Steve doesn’t really even know anything
about kids. How’s he going to raise one?
And even before any of that becomes an issue, there’s still this pregnancy
thing to get through. Steve knows less about pregnancy than he does about
babies. He’s sure it’s nothing to scoff at, though, especially in someone as
young and probably not even fully developed internally as Tony. There’s a
reason people wait until they’re older to have kids, and it’s not just
emotional stability. Speaking of which, Steve’s not ready for a kid on that
front, either and he knows Tony sure as heck isn’t.
“What are we going to do?” Steve asks quietly.
Tony shrugs as best he can from his potion. “Cry?” he says and he’s joking, but
he’s also actually crying still, just a little, and the whole thing is so sad
and overwhelming that Steve seriously thinks about joining him. And he’s not
even the one in pain.
“Are you going to get an abortion?”
“No,” Tony says firmly, rolling away from Steve and sitting up abruptly. He
wipes his face angrily with one hand and curls the other one around himself,
like he wants to protect the tiny, tiny beginning of a baby inside him. “I know
you think I’m a fuck up and a kid,” he says, sounding seriously pissed, “but
I’m not going to kill a baby, Steve.”
“I don’t think those things,” Steve says quickly, even though he sort of does.
“I don’t think an abortion’s a good idea, either. I just wanted to ask. It is
your body, after all.”
“Damn straight it is,” Tony says, still all hunched up on himself. “It’s my
body and if I want to kill the baby or keep it or sell it to the highest
bidder, that’s my call.”
“Wait,” Steve says, trying not to panic at that last one. Tony sounds mad
enough to attempt it, and that won’t end well for anyone. Plus, it might be
Tony’s body, but it’s still Steve’s baby, too. “Let’s not get carried away,
okay? I know you like to make a point, but let’s not say anything we’re going
to regret.”
“I never regret anything,” Tony says loftily.
“Good,” Steve says. “Good. I’m not sorry, either.” And the thing of it, he’s
not. He’s scared out of his mind, has no idea what’s going to happen in the
future. Things might fall apart spectacularly, but even if that happens, a
little part of Steve can’t help but be awed that they’ve managed to make a
baby. There’s a little tiny baby that’s part of both of them and it’s probably
growing right at this very second. It’s amazing and terrifying all at the same
time. They’ve created life without even trying.
Yeah, the other, more sensible part of his brain reminds him, but at what cost?
If the worst that comes of this is Tony’s morning sickness, they’ll both be
damn lucky, and Steve’s never had luck on his side. There are worse, scarier
things to come, Steve knows, even if Tony hasn’t realized it yet. Then again,
Tony is a very smart kid, and it’s just as likely that he does realize the
risks and dangers of having this baby and just hasn’t said anything. As far as
Steve can tell, Tony’s never taken his own personal safety very seriously.
Well, that’ll have to change, if they’re going to keep this baby. Steve’s not
going to let them both get attached to the idea just to have something bad
happen because of Tony’s recklessness.
“This is going to be a lot of work,” he reminds Tony, just in case the kid’s
forgotten.
“I guess it’s a good thing I’ve got workaholic tendencies, then, huh?” Tony
says. The joke is ruined only seconds later, though, when Tony makes a dive for
the edge of the bed and pukes into the bucket Steve set there.
Steve remembers this time not to touch him while he’s being sick, but that just
leaves him as a helpless bystander, unable to do anything to make it better.
Well, he figures he’d better get used to the feeling. For all that it’s his
child, too, it’s only Tony’s body that’s going to be in this mess. All Steve
can is be supportive. He vows he’s going to be very, very supportive, if it’s
the last thing he does.
 
Tony finally manages to get some sleep that night, with Steve curled against
him in the bed. Steve has a moment of panic when he wakes up, first because he
thinks he’s accidently given in to Tony’s many sexual advances, and then
immediately after he dismisses that notion, he starts to panic even harder when
he realizes what’s really going on.
A baby. Their baby. Him and Tony together in a little bundle of cells that
probably doesn’t even have a real shape yet. He’s going to have to get some
books on pregnancy from the library, find sites online. Maybe some of them will
have advice about how to combat the nausea and discomfort of morning sickness,
which apparently can strike at all hours, if last night was any indication.
Just as he’s contemplating this, Tony jerks awake beside him, says, “Oh God,”
and rolls out of bed. He scurries out the door on his bare feet and Steve
winces as he hears him puking a few seconds later. He hadn’t managed to get
Tony to drink much water last night, which means there’s probably absolutely
nothing in there for Tony to puke up. It probably also means that Tony’s on the
brink of dehydration, which can’t be helping the nausea. Also, it’s probably
not good for the baby, and it’s that thought that makes Steve hurry to the
kitchen to fish around for some Gatorade. Tony’s going to drink the whole
bottle if Steve has to tie him up and put a funnel in his mouth.
“Fuck off,” Tony says when Steve comes into the bathroom with the bottle.
“You’ll feel better if you drink it,” Steve coaxes.
“Liar,” Tony says. “I’ll feel worse. You think I didn’t try that shit yesterday
before you showed up? The only difference it’ll make is that I’ll puke red
instead of clear.”
“You’re going to get dehydrated,” Steve says very seriously. “Then I’m probably
going to have to take you to the hospital and you know that’s not what you
want.”
Tony looks up at him and narrows his eyes, seemingly evaluating whether Steve’s
bluffing or not. “Fine,” he says at last and holds out his hand for the bottle.
He takes a tentative sip and Steve’s pleased when nothing bad happens. Nothing
bad happens for five minutes, that is, then Tony does indeed start puking red
instead of clear.
“That’s it,” Tony says, after a good half hour of him puking between reluctant
sips of Gatorade. “We need a new approach. This one’s clearly bullshit. Bring
me my phone.”
Steve fetches it from the bedroom, then holds on to it for another ten minutes
while Tony pukes some more. Steve’s not sure if it’s a good thing or not that
he’s actually got something to puke up instead of just stomach acid, but it’s
painful to watch, either way. When Tony’s finally recovered enough to see
straight, Steve hands over the phone.
“Okay,” Tony says after only a few minutes of searching. “New plan: go find me
crackers, pretzels, chopped peanuts, mints, popsicles, and dried apricots.
We’re going to try everything.”
“I don’t think you have any of those things in your kitchen,” Steve says,
thinking back to the things he’d seen in passing while he was in their getting
the Gatorade.
“Then go buy them,” Tony snaps. “And wash off your terrible cologne before you
come back in here.”
Steve is definitely not wearing cologne. “You mean my soap?” he asks.
“Yeah, whatever,” Tony says, waving a hand. “Just wash it off. I think it’s
making me worse.”
“Sorry,” Steve says, feeling terrible about this. All he wanted to do was help,
and he was doing the exact opposite of helping. He stands to go. “I’ll be right
back,” he says. Tony doesn’t reply, but that’s probably because he’s being sick
again.
Steve checks the kitchen first, but doesn’t find any of the things Tony wanted.
He’s not surprised; Tony usually only ever has coffee and frozen pizza in his
kitchen. Plus all the alcohol behind the bar in the living room, and now that
Steve thinks about it, all that stuff has to go. It’s not that he doesn’t trust
Tony not to endanger the baby like that, but Tony drinks every single day as
far as Steve can tell, and it’d probably just be easier if the temptation was
removed.
Luckily, there’s a bodega on the corner of Tony’s block, and Steve can get all
of the things Tony requested there. The cashier gives him a strange look, but
Steve just shrugs and asks if he can have the key to the bathroom. He gives
himself a whore’s bath in the sink, hoping that’ll be sufficient to get the
smell of the soap off of him. He’ll remember in the future that Tony’s
sensitive to that kind of thing. They probably even sell special soap for
pregnant people, and though it’s probably horrendously expensive, it’ll be
worth it if it helps Tony.
Tony’s not very grateful when Steve brings back the food, and if Steve didn’t
already know that Tony’s never grateful about anything, he’d think it’s
pregnancy hormones kicking in already. They move to the kitchen, bringing the
food and the puke bucket with them, where they conduct a series of tests over
the next few hours to determine if any of the snacks calm Tony’s stomach. After
a while, Steve gets hungry, but he doesn’t want to ruin the experiment by
cooking anything that might make Tony nauseas, so he just runs out to the same
bodega and gets a sandwich. It’s not a very good sandwich, just turkey and
cheese with light mayo, but Steve’s spent all day watching Tony vomit, so he’s
not exactly up for anything too solid, anyway.
Around noon, just when they’ve figured out that salted peanuts probably are on
the list of things that might help and salted pretzels are definitely not,
Clint texts Steve, asking where on earth he is. Steve doesn’t really feel like
this is a situation he can explain over the phone, so he just says he’s with
Tony. Clint sends back a winky face and the words “bow chicka wow wow.” Clint,
like Tony, is in full support of Tony and Steve sleeping together again. Clint
thinks it’s funny to mess with people, though, so Steve never takes his opinion
too much to heart.
Tony must be on the same wavelength, and also feeling better, because he looks
up at Steve and says, “You know what would cure me, I bet? If we fucked.”
“Tony,” Steve says, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “We’re not sleeping
together. You’re too young. We’ve been over this.”
“I’m carrying your child,” Tony says, sounding indignant but also playful. “The
least you could do is comfort me by sleeping with me.”
“No,” Steve says firmly. “This doesn’t change anything, Tony. We’re going to
handle this pregnancy as it happens, and we’re going to do it together, but we
are not having sex. And that’s final.”
“We’ll see,” Tony says. “I’m going to make pregnancy look sexy.”
Steve has a terrible suspicion that he just might be right about that.
***** Chapter 3 *****
“Wait,” Clint says, sitting up from his sprawl on the floor between their two
beds. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” Steve says, looking down at his hands. “I just found out two days ago.”
“Holy shit, dude! What are you going to do?”
“We’re going to keep it,” Steve says firmly. Tony won’t hear of anything else
and frankly, Steve’s not very keen on the idea of an abortion either. The idea
of just killing a would-be-baby like that is just wrong. So they’re keeping it,
keeping the baby and that’s that. Of course, just because they’ve made the
decision doesn’t mean anything else is figured out yet. Steve still has no idea
what they’re going to do with a baby, how they’re going to raise it, keep it
safe. Actually, that’s the one thing Steve’s worried about more than anything
else: keeping the baby and Tony safe.
“But,” Clint says, voice strained enough that Steve looks up at him, “I mean...
how do you even know it’s yours?”
“What?” Steve asks sharply. “What are you implying?”
“Well,” Clint says, looking a little uncomfortable but also determined to say
his piece. “Look, you can’t pretend Tony’s not a little bit slutty. Like, how
many guys has he slept with since that night he was with you? You don’t even
know that the baby’s yours. It could be anybody’s.”
“No,” Steve says, sure of it. “He hasn’t slept with anyone since that night we
were together.”
“Okay, but what about before that? Who knows when he got knocked up. It could
have been before you even met him.”
“It’s mine,” Steve tells him, but now he’s kind of thinking about it. It’s not
true, he tells himself, it can’t be true. Tony wouldn’t trick Steve like that.
And even if he would, what would even be the point? It’s not like Tony needs
his money, as Tony himself pointed out. So really, the only reasonable
conclusion is that it’s Steve’s baby. Which Steve already knew.
And besides, even if it wasn’t, Steve’s not sure he wouldn’t do everything in
his power to help Tony anyway. Because despite all his flaws, Tony is a good
guy who obviously hasn’t had enough love in his life. If there’s anything Steve
can do to help Tony in any way possible, he’s sure as heck going to do it.
“If you says so,” Clint says, still looking skeptical. “So what are you going
to do? Do you even know anything about babies?”
“Well, no,” Steve admits. “But I’m going to learn. I’m going to go to the
library today to get some books. There’s got to be something somewhere about
baby development that I can read.”
Clint still looks skeptical. “I don’t mean to sound judgey or anything,” he
says, “but I’m not sure parenting is the kind of thing you can learn out of a
book.”
“That’s true,” Steve agrees. “It’s probably going to have to be one of those
things we learn by doing, but I still think it would be a good idea to have
some base knowledge about babies beforehand. I’m sure if we ask a few parents
they’ll have a lot of good advice, too.”
“You don’t even know any parents,” Clint points out and Steve has to agree.
Tony, by all accounts isn’t on very good terms with his parents and goes months
without talking to them. Steve’s mother has been gone for years, God rest her
soul, and all of Steve’s friends have less than ideal relationships with their
parents.
“Well,” Steve says, thinking about this, “maybe there’s some kind of group we
can join. One for expecting parents.” And boy is it weird to think of himself
as an expecting parent. Steve’s always wanted kids, it’s true, but that’s
always seemed like something that would happen in the future. The distant
future. He’s accepted it, though, mostly. And if every now and then he feels
the need to freak out, that’s okay, too. It’s normal, he expects, upon finding
out you’re going to become a parent within the next year, to freak out a bit.
“Probably,” Clint agrees. “Maybe there’ll even be one for teenage parents. That
seems more up your alley, you know, what with Tony being jailbait and all.”
Steve scowls, more at the mention of his own stupidity than at Clint for
bringing it up. He still can’t believe they were that stupid, not only
forgetting the condom once in the heat of the moment but also the next morning
when they went for round two. They should have expected this outcome, really,
and it was only the shock of finding out Tony was so young that kept Steve from
thinking clearly about anything else, like taking care of the situation before
it became a pregnancy. Still, Steve made the mistake, and now he’s going to pay
the price, though he’ll be damned if he starts to think of a defenseless baby
like that: a cross he has to bear or a punishment for mistakes he’s made. This
baby will be loved and it will receive the absolute best care and devotion
Steve can manage with every bit of himself.
That all seems like things Clint probably doesn’t need to hear, though, so he
just says, “Yeah,” and goes back to staring at his hands. He’s got class in an
hour and after that he’s going to go back over to Tony’s so they can get a few
things sorted out. No matter what happens, they’re in this together, and as
long as he can get Tony to remember that, they’ll make it through this
pregnancy, hopefully both intact.
 
When Steve gets to Tony’s after class, the door is unlocked (which, Steve
thinks, isn’t very safe and he and Tony are definitely going to be having a
talk about this at some point), so Steve just lets himself in. Tony isn’t in
the living room or his bedroom or even the bathroom, so Steve tries Tony’s
workshop in the spare room. Tony usually keeps the door closed when he’s
expecting company, which Steve suspects has more to do with a fear of corporate
theft than a desire to appear less messy. Steve knocks first, because it’s
impossible to tell when Tony might be in the middle of causing an explosion or
playing with dangerous chemicals, then pushes the door open when there’s no
answer from within.
Tony doesn’t look up when Steve comes in, just keeps his attention focused on
the tablet he’s holding. It’s quite a relief to see him sitting down and not
playing with anything explosive or volatile. Tony’s always very cavalier about
his safety, which has made Steve nervous ever since they met, but now it’s a
double worry, a concern for both Tony and the baby.
“What are you doing?” Steve asks, advancing to the work table. It’s still
covered with metal and wires and generally looking like a robot exploded on it
(which is probably what actually happened, knowing Tony), but there’s a small
space cleared so that Tony can set his tablet on the table and lean over it.
He’s even sitting down on one of his cushioned stools, which means this is
practically a resting position for him, even if he’s hard at work.
There’s no answer from Tony, which isn’t unexpected. Tony always gets drawn
into his work like this, ignoring Steve for days at a time and then surfacing
again at an odd hour, hyper-energized and ready for an adventure. It’s not a
healthy way to work, especially not for someone’s who’s pregnant. Steve doesn’t
want to change Tony, wouldn’t dream of it, but they’re definitely going to have
to talk about Tony’s work style. Tony’s a smart guy, but not an especially
practical one, so it’s possible he hasn’t even realized how bad his pattern of
work, work, work, party, sleep, work is for the baby.
“Okay,” Steve says after a while of just watching Tony work in silence. Tony’s
always fascinating to watch when he’s like this, too caught up in his own
brilliance to even notice anything around him, but Steve can’t let himself get
caught up. He’s got a mission and that’s to protect Tony, even from himself.
“I’m going to get you some food and you’re going to eat it, okay?”
He figures it’s probably safe to bring Tony something light, since he doesn’t
seem to be showing any signs of morning sickness today. Unfortunately, Tony
still doesn’t have any food, meaning Steve has to run down to the bodega again.
He stocks up while he’s there, making sure to get some bread and peanut butter
and jelly, plus Gatorade, of course, because no matter what Tony says, he’s got
to stay hydrated.
Back in the apartment, he very carefully makes Tony a sandwich. It’s the best
sandwich Steve’s ever made, and he feels proud of it, especially because Tony
doesn’t even blink before eating it. Of course, Tony doesn’t so much as look at
the sandwich, so blinking at it would be pretty impossible. He just grabs at
the thing blindly when Steve puts it within reach, eyes still on the tablet.
The way he doesn’t immediately turn green after eating is encouraging, though,
and Steve make sure to nudge some Gatorade to within Tony’s reach, just in case
Tony gets thirsty without realizing it, too. Then, Steve just sits back and
watches.
After careful observation, Steve comes to conclude that Tony doesn’t look
nearly as sick today as he did yesterday and the day before. Maybe one of the
snacks from the experiment did the trick, after all. A few had looked
promising, but the experiment hadn’t been over by the time Steve had gone back
to his dorm last night, so he didn’t get the full results. He’d just ask Tony,
but Tony’s busy being a genius, so that’s out. Steve desperately hopes
something helped, though. He doesn’t expect a miracle cure, but it pained him
almost physically to see Tony hurting so badly while Steve was helpless to do
anything but support him from outside of touching distance. It’s not easy, he
thinks, being the expectant father, trying so hard to help and not being able
to, and he knows it’s only going to get harder as this pregnancy moves along.
Unwillingly, Steve is also struck by how beautiful Tony is while he’s watching
him. It’s true enough and Steve’s thought so since the day they met, but it’s a
thought he’s been trying not to have since their first morning together, since
he found out how young Tony is. It hasn’t been easy. The problem’s only gotten
worse, too, because despite everything, despite how scary and huge this
situation is, there’s still a part of Steve deep down within him that is really
just glad he’s put his mark on Tony. No matter what Clint’s doubts, Steve is
positive this baby is his, and that makes the alpha male within him insanely
happy. Mine, his hindbrain sometimes thinks when he looks at Tony, mine, and
this baby is the proof. The more rational part of him, of course, knows that
Tony’s much too young to be anybody’s, let alone Steve’s, and that makes him
feel terribly guilty. Add those feelings to the mixture of apprehension and joy
that Steve’s feeling about them bringing this baby into the world together and
he can tell already that this pregnancy is going to be one heck of an emotional
roller coaster. And Steve’s not even the one with the shifting hormones!
Eventually, though, even looking at Tony gets a bit boring for Steve, and he’s
got things he needs to be doing, anyway, so he pulls one of the baby books he’d
gotten from the library out of his bag and flips through it. The title is What
to Expect When You’re Expecting, and Steve got it because he figured it was a
classic. The table of contents seems to indicate that the book is very well
organized, so Steve just finds the section that pertains to them, the section
about pregnancies that have already started, and starts to read.
Half an hour later, shaky and nervous from all the things that can apparently
go wrong with a pregnancy, Steve sets down the book and looks up to find Tony
watching him with a crinkled brow.
“When did you get here?” Tony asks.
“A while ago,” Steve admits. “I tried talking to you, but you were pretty
absorbed in whatever it is you’re doing. I brought you a sandwich, too.” He
indicates the empty plate still sitting by Tony’s elbow and Tony blinks down at
it in surprise.
“Huh,” he says, looking back up at Steve. “Uh, thanks or whatever. Must have
gotten caught up. You know how it is.”
Technically, Steve doesn’t. For all that he gets “caught up” in his paintings
sometimes, he never forgets to eat all day or tunes out the world so fully he
can’t hear when someone’s talking to him. Those are both things that are
peculiar to Tony and now that Steve’s considering them, he’s not sure they’re
very great things for someone who’s pregnant, health wise.
“Tony,” he says carefully, because he knows how Tony gets prickly sometimes
when people try to tell him what to do. Not that Steve’s doing that, mind; he’s
just going to make a suggestion, is all. “I’m not sure this is very good for
the baby.”
Unsurprisingly, Tony just scoffs. “You’re kidding me, right?” he asks
incredulously. “Which part of this is bad for the baby: the part where I’ve
been sitting instead of standing for twelve hours or the part where I’ve
decided to code today instead of welding or lifting heavy sheets of metal? Tell
me, Steve, which part of what I’m doing at this exact moment is endangering the
baby?”
It’s a good point, and Steve feels a little ashamed for judging Tony’s work
style, especially when Tony’s already making changes to better protect the
baby. Still, Steve’s not even a full chapter into What to Expect and he’s
already come to the conclusion that pregnancy is a very dangerous thing that
needs to be handled with the utmost care. Tony’s going to have to be more
careful, more attentive to his body’s needs if this pregnancy is going to work.
Plus, there’s nothing in the book about teenage pregnancy, but Steve’s sure
that Tony being so young and probably barely developed internally is going to
necessitate them being even more careful.
“Okay,” Steve says, because he doesn’t want to fight about this, not yet.
There’ll be plenty of time and probably plenty of opportunities for it later.
Right now, he just wants to make sure Tony is okay, especially considering how
sick he was yesterday. “Are you at least feeling better? Your color is a lot
better than yesterday.”
“I’m okay.” Tony shrugs. “It was pretty bad this morning, but I just sucked on
peppermints for a while and was only sick for like three hours instead of
twenty. Then I started working and forgot to even care about it.”
That’s kind of the problem, Steve thinks morosely. It’s too easy for Tony to
forget to pay attention to his body’s needs while he’s working. He can’t say
that, though, so he just says, “I’ve been thinking.” He indicates the book he
was reading. “There are a lot of ways this could go wrong, and-”
“Are you backing out on me?” Tony interrupts, eyes narrowing. “Is that what’s
happening here? Because, fuck you very much, Rogers, you don’t get to make this
choice. We’re not killing the baby!”
“Wait!” Steve breaks in before Tony can work himself up to a rant or a tantrum
or something. “That’s not what I was going to say at all. I just think we
should find a doctor and make an appointment sooner rather than later. Just to
get everything checked out, you know?”
He was going to try to find a more delicate way to put it, because he knows
that Tony hates doctors for some reason. Steve’s not sure of the underlying
cause, but he’s sure it contributes to Tony not taking care of himself properly
most of the time. It’s nonnegotiable, though; there’s no way they’re going to
make it through this pregnancy without a doctor’s input and advice. If Steve
has to kidnap Tony and forcibly haul him into the doctor’s office, that’s what
he’s going to do.
“Oh,” Tony says, shoulder slumping back down as the tension leaves him. It’s
not the reaction Steve was anticipating, but it’s a relief that this isn’t
going to turn into a fight or anything. “Yeah, don’t worry about that. I’ve got
it covered. I’ve got an appointment next Monday.”
“Good,” Steve says, impressed with how seriously Tony’s taking this thing, how
brave he is, putting his own health and the baby’s above his discomfort with
doctors. “What time? I’ve got class in the morning but if it’s in the afternoon
I can go.”
“Wait,” Tony says slowly. “You want to go?”
“Of course,” Steve says. How else is he going to make sure all the important
questions get asked? How else is he going to find out everything he has to do
to keep Tony and the baby safe?
“Huh,” Tony says, rubbing the back of his neck. Steve recognizes for the
nervous gesture it is, but he can’t think of any reason it might be showing up
now. “Oh, well, uh, whatever, I guess. It’s at two. You can just come here at
like 1:30 and I’ll get Happy to drive us over there.”
“Okay,” Steve agrees. “Sounds good. I’ll be here.”
“Right,” Tony says, standing and stretching. Steve can’t help the way his eyes
are drawn to the sliver of skin revealed when Tony’s shirt rides up. “Well, now
that that’s all settled, wanna go take a nap?”
Steve’s eyes jerk up automatically. He knows from Tony’s smirk that Tony saw
him looking, but Tony just grins, making Steve blush. Okay, so he wants Tony
and it’s not a secret between them, but he won’t give in, no matter what
happens. A nap sounds innocent enough, though, as long as Steve can manage to
keep his hands to himself and Tony promises to do the same.
“All right,” he says, but gives Tony a warning look, just in case. “But you’d
better behave yourself.”
The way Tony grins make Steve sure there’s not much chance of that. Still, Tony
could probably use some sleep and if Steve has to put up with a little friendly
groping to make that happen, well, that’s just something he’ll have to do.
Purely for the baby’s wellbeing, of course. Really.
 
 
For the rest of the week, Steve spends nearly every minute he’s not in class
with Tony. He brings his homework along most nights, does his reading or works
on his paintings while Tony does whatever it is engineering students do as
homework. He makes sure Tony gets fed, brings him more mints and Gatorade
anytime he starts to feel nauseous and even forces him into the shower once or
twice. Alone, of course, not with Steve in the bathroom with him or anything.
Even with all that, though, Steve still finds time to be both nervous and
excited for the doctor’s appointment. To be honest, he’s hoping that they’re
going to be able to see the baby. His books tell him that the baby should be
visible on a sonogram, even if it won’t look like a baby quite yet. That, on
top of getting to ask his many, many questions, is what keeps Steve counting
the hours until Monday afternoon.
Sunday night, Steve’s working on a preliminary sketch for his midterm project
while Tony fine-tunes Dummy’s programing. He’s nearly gotten the thing finished
and honestly, Steve’s pretty excited to see what the robot can do when it’s
fully operational. It’s already damned impressive and Steve can’t help but be
awed all over again at Tony’s genius.
But anyway, he’s pretty distracted, is the point, distracted enough that he
somehow forgets about Clint and Natasha’s gig tonight until he gets a text from
Natasha reminding him. He’s halfway through a reply telling her that he can’t
come when he stops and rethinks it. The truth is, he hasn’t spent much time
with his friends this week, preoccupied as he was with Tony and the baby. He’s
been content, doing what he’s been doing, but it might be nice to get out for a
while, have fun with his friends. He’s sure Tony won’t mind.
I’ll be there in a while, he sends instead.
“Where are you going?” Tony asks as Steve stands up and starts to pack his art
supplies away.
“Clint and Natasha gave a gig downtown,” Steve explains. “I haven’t spent much
time with them lately, so I figured I’d go.”
“Cool,” Tony says, setting down his tablet and standing up, too. “Just let me
get changed and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Oh,” Steve says, freezing with a drawing pencil halfway to the case. “You’re
going?”
“Well, yeah,” Tony says with his ‘duh’ face. “Why wouldn’t I? I like music as
much as the hip teen.”
“But what about the baby?” Steve asks without thinking.
“What about it?” Tony asks, mouth tightening in the way that makes it clear the
question was a tactical mistake. “Does the baby suddenly make me like music
less?”
“Well, no, but-” Steve starts but Tony cuts him off.
“Does the baby make me an invalid who can’t walk or dance or stand on my feet
for a few hours?”
“No, but-”
“Does the baby mean I can’t have any fucking fun anymore?”
“No,” Steve says and, seeing Tony’s going to just keep going, holds his hands
up in surrender. “Okay, okay,” he says. “I see what you’re saying. I was just
worried about the loud music and all the people and things. I don’t want
anything bad to happen to the baby,” he finishes softly.
Tony rolls his eyes but his mouth quirks up on one side, so Steve can tell he’s
not really too mad anymore, now that he’s made his point. “Steve,” he says,
“you’re being paranoid. A night at the club isn’t going to hurt me. You can’t
even smoke in the clubs anymore and it’s not like I’m going to be drinking or
anything. Barring a random freak accident, the same kind I could have any day
on the street, there’s no risk here. I’m not going sky-diving or anything. It’s
just a night out.”
“Right,” Steve says, trying to make himself believe this. He understands all
that, he does. He’s just worried, is all. He’s the father; it’s his job to be
worried. He just has to remember, in future, to keep himself in check. Being
cautious is okay, being paranoid is bad.
“Okay,” Tony says and grins. “Be right back.”
Steve finishes packing his things while Tony disappears into his room. When he
comes back a few minutes later wearing his tightest jeans and a vintage band t-
shirt, Steve just sighs and averts his eyes. He’s sure this is another of
Tony’s attempts to get him into bed, but as long as he ignores it, everything
will be fine.
“Come on,” he says, leading the way to the door.
They take the elevator to the ground floor and head out into the street, where
Tony flags down a cab. The ride to the club isn’t uncomfortable, but Steve can
sense that Tony’s extra twitchy, for some reason. Steve watches as he shifts
his weight every few minutes, bounces first one leg then the other, rubs the
back of his neck almost constantly. Steve has no idea what he’s so nervous
about, but maybe it’s just because it’s his first time going to the club since
they found out he’s pregnant.
Finally, they get to the club. Tony pays the driver, just like always, and they
head inside. Tony has an understanding with most of the bouncers in the city
where they just wave him and his friends inside without them having to worry
about waiting in line. He’s had to expand his network somewhat since he started
hanging out with Clint and Natasha, who usually play at the small out of the
way clubs, but Tony’s better at networking than any teenager Steve’s ever met,
so it all works out. Steve sometimes feels bad for those people who do have to
wait in line, but he figures Tony pays for the privileges of being a
celebutante by being followed occasionally by paparazzi.
Once they’re in the club, they head to the stage to meet up with Clint and
Natasha, who are already setting up for their set. Clint looks up from
adjusting his drum set and beckons them over. Tony hops up onto the stage and
wanders over that way, but Steve goes to see Natasha on the other side of the
stage instead.
“Hey,” she says, looking up from hooking up her guitar to the amp. “I’m
surprised to see you here.”
“It’s good to see you, too,” Steve says, grinning at her. “It’s been a while.”
“Yes,” she agrees. She glances over at Tony. “I’m somehow not surprised to see
Tony’s tagged along, as well, despite his condition. And dressed like he’s
trying to pull, no less.”
“Actually,” Steve says, reviewing the last few days in his mind, “he’s been
pretty cool about it lately. Hasn’t made a move on me since at least
Wednesday.”
“Well don’t look now,” she says casually, “but I think maybe he’s lost interest
in you. He’s eyeing up a guy at the bar as we speak.”
“What?” Steve asks, panic flooding through him. He spins around to face Tony
and Clint. Sure enough, Tony’s grinning and waving at some blonde at the bar.
“So, see you after the show?” Natasha says, pulling his attention back to her.
“Right,” Steve agrees. “Good luck.”
He goes over to where Tony is still flirting with that guy outrageously from a
distance. “Good luck with the set, Clint” Steve tells the drummer and pulls
Tony off the stage so the show can start.
The show is a good one. Clint and Natasha bring the house down and even Steve,
who rarely dances, finds himself getting into the music. He’s pleased to see
Tony enjoying himself, too, though of course, Tony usually enjoys himself in
places like this. For all that Tony likes just hanging out with his friends at
home, he also absolutely loves the club.
“Hey,” Steve says, after the set is over and Clint and Natasha are breaking
down their instruments. “I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back, okay?”
“Sure,” Tony says, not even looking at him. “Whatever.”
Steve goes to the bathroom and does his business. When he comes back, Tony’s
not by the stage where he was when Steve left. After some searching, Steve is
horrified to finally find him by the bar, mouth to mouth with the blonde he was
waving to earlier. He looks up when Steve approaches and grins wickedly at him.
“Hey, Steve! Meet Billy. He’s going to take me home, so you guys don’t have to
worry about waiting if you want to head out now.”
“Tony,” Steve says through gritted teeth. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Sure,” Tony agrees. “Be right back,” he tells the guy.
They make their way to the side door and step out into the back alley. Steve
breaths in the cool night air, trying to clear his head, keep calm.
“What are you thinking?” he asks as calmly as he can. “You can’t go home with
that guy!”
“And why not?” Tony asks, sounding bored. “What’s it to you?”
“You can’t just go home with any random person, Tony! He could be a murderer!
He could hurt you or the baby! You have to be more careful now!” He can’t stop
his voice from rising, can’t stop his anger and panic at Tony’s stupidity from
showing through.
“I don’t know if you noticed this, Steve,” Tony says, voice tight and angry.
“But you’re not my boyfriend. You’re not my father, you’re not my owner, and
you’re not the boss of me. If I want to go home with this guy, I’m going to
fucking do it and that’s none of your business. I gave you the chance to be my
boyfriend and you didn’t want it, remember? You seemed to think I was too
young. So guess what? That means you’re very firmly not in charge of what I do.
You may be my baby-daddy, but you’ve got no right to tell me what to do. Until
you can remember that, I’d suggest you don’t talk to me or come near me. Like,
at all.”
Then he’s gone, walking out the alley and into the street, leaving Steve
standing behind him, too stunned to follow, too ashamed to call him back.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     What?! Another update? Who organized that? Oh wait, must have been
     because of the fan-freaking-tastic comments I got on the last
     chapter. so thanks for those and I hope you enjoy this chapter, which
     might be subtitled: "Nothing ever gets resolved in real life" 8)
“He does have a point, you know,” Clint points out from his perch on Natasha’s
bed. Natasha’s roommate for the year bailed pretty early on, leaving her with a
single for no extra charge. Since it’s less crowded than Steve and Clint’s
room, they usually go there to have any kind of activity where they might need
space. Tonight’s activity is supposed to be drunk charades, but despite
everything, Steve’s been taking Tony’s absence particularly hard and just isn’t
feeling up to. Instead, they’ve just been talking about Steve’s fight with
Tony, analyzing it and trying to figure out how to fix it. “If you liked it
then you should have put a ring on it.”
“Wait,” Steve says, genuinely shocked. “You think we ought to get married?
Earlier this week you were convinced the baby wasn’t even mine and now you
think we should be planning a wedding?” Steve’s honestly not sure he’s ready
for that. Then again, he’s not really ready for a baby, either. Plus, he’s not
sure it’s even legal to marry someone who’s sixteen. And that’s all beside the
point, anyway, because it doesn’t solve the problem at hand and might actually
create more problems, especially since Steve is still determined not to sleep
with Tony again.
“That’s not what he’s saying,” Natasha chime in. “He means that you have no
right to be jealous about Tony going home with other guys if you won’t date
him. You can’t just tell him you can’t be with him but also that he can’t be
with anyone else, either. It doesn’t work like that.”
“That’s not what this is about,” Steve insists. “This is about him doing
dangerous things and endangering himself and the baby. He can’t just go home
with random strangers. It’s way too risky.”
“First of all,” Clint cuts in. “You’re being a total hypocrite here, which is
just not cool. You went home with Tony the first night you met him, remember?
That’s how you got into this mess in the first place. And secondly, dude, are
you trying to tell us that it would be okay with you if Tony got with someone
who wasn’t a stranger? Like if I started sleeping with him right now, that
would be totally fine with you.”
“Of course it wouldn’t be fine,” Steve says, ignoring the flare of rage he
feels about that scenario. He’s got more important things to focus on. “That’s
the whole point. It doesn’t matter if it’s a friend or a stranger, Tony’s still
too young to be having sex.”
“Uh huh,” Clint says, wearing his you-don’t-fool-me face. “And it has nothing
at all to do with your jealousy.”
“I think you guys are straying from the point,” Natasha says. “Which is that
Tony’s right, Steve, you can’t control what he does. If you want him to be more
careful, there’s no way to force him into it. You’re going to have to talk to
him and hope he’s willing to compromise.”
“Right,” Steve says slowly. “Compromise.” He can do that. He totally can. If
Tony ever talks to him again, that is.
“Anyway,” Clint says, “Let’s stop talking about this before it all gets too
deep for comfort. How’s the painting?”
“Fine,” Steve answers. “Good, even.” After classes this morning, he’d tried to
contact Tony. He called and texted and even went over to the apartment and
knocked on the door. It all went unanswered, though, so Steve resigned himself
to the fact that he was not going to be present at the doctor’s appointment and
instead went home to paint. He’s been on a roll lately, cranking out one
painting after the next, all inspired by his Tony-related angst. The one he’d
done right after finding out about the baby had been his professor’s favorite,
both beautiful and frightening, hopeful and sad. The one yesterday, though, had
been all anger and regret.
“I wish you’d get over this abstract phase you’re going through,” Clint says
remorsefully. “I liked it back when you painted actual pictures.”
“I don’t know,” Natasha says, lips pursed contemplatively. “I think his
abstract work is some of the best he’s ever done. Especially now that he has
all this emotion to put into it.”
“To be honest,” Steve says, “I’d rather just skip all the parts that hurt and
just paint the happy things.”
“Oh, sweety,” she says, looking at him pityingly. “That’s life. Did you think
you could just have a without paying for it all somehow? There’s always a cost,
Steve.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees softly. He knows that, he does, but he’s got a terrible
sinking feeling that this fight between him and Tony is not the cost in
question. No, whatever they end up paying, it’s going to be much bigger and
much more painful.
“Okay, enough of this chick flick stuff,” Clint says, interrupting Steve’s
musings. “Let’s get this show on the road.” He grabs at his backpack and neatly
extracts a bottle of vodka for him and Natasha to share and a light beer for
Steve.
The game, once they actually get down to it, is surprisingly fun, even without
Tony’s lumbering impression of a T-rex or his silent but perfectly
choreographed version of Riverdance. Steve enjoys it despite himself, watches
as Clint and Natasha get progressively drunker and less coordinated. Since
Steve’s not drunk and doesn’t have a partner, he’s the judge, which
necessitates the use of both threats and time-outs at various times in the
game.
By midnight, Natasha’s dozing lightly on her bed and Steve decides it’s
probably time for them to go. It’s lucky their room is only two floors down,
because Steve has to half-carry, half-drag Clint the whole way. It’s not that
Clint’s too drunk to function, but more that he’s just drunk enough to become
willful and uncooperative. He keeps trying to make a break for it and Steve has
to collar him with his hand while he’s getting the door to their room open.
Once they’re actually in the room, though, Clint realizes how tired he is and
immediately face-plants onto the bed.
Steve just sighs and goes to get him some water to drink. Getting Clint to
actually drink the water takes a frustratingly long time, but it’s okay;
Steve’s always been a pretty patient guy. He manages to get two full glasses in
him before he falls asleep, which leaves Steve feeling satisfied that his
hangover tomorrow won’t be too severe.
After that, Steve goes to work on his painting a bit more. Clint and Natasha’s
efforts to cheer him up mean he’s not feeling all his shame and anger as
strongly as earlier today, but it’s still there, just below the surface, easy
enough to tap into and pick up where he left off on the piece. He works for a
few hours, confident in the fact that he won’t have to be up too early the next
day. Eventually, though, he starts to feel tired, so he cleans up, puts plastic
wrap over his paints and goes to the bathroom down the hall to wash out his
brushes. He takes his toothbrush with him when he goes and takes care of that,
as well.
Back in the room, Steve changes into his pajamas and lies down on his bed.
Clint’s snoring softly from the other bed, but Steve’s so used to that after
three years of sharing a room that he hardly even notices it anymore. Almost
unwillingly, Steve’s mind drifts to Tony and the baby. He knows he messed up,
really he does. The problem, though, is that he’s not sure what to do about it.
It’s not like he can just shut off his protective impulses. He worries, it’s
just what he does, and he knows it’s only going to get worse as the pregnancy
progresses. Maybe Natasha’s right, though, and compromise is the key. Maybe, if
instead of outright forbidding Tony to do things, he should just talk to him
about it, express his worries and ask him to negotiate.
It would help, Steve thinks, if he could actually talk to someone about all the
worries he has. That had been the whole point of the doctor’s appointment,
after all. If only Steve had been there, he could have told the doctor all the
things he thought were too dangerous for the baby and the doctor could have
told him straight out whether or not he was being unreasonable. And now, it’s
too late: he’s missed his chance.
Sighing, Steve rolls over, presses his face into his pillow. He shoves one of
his hands under the pillow, trying to find a comfortable position, and stops
abruptly when his hand makes contact with something. The item in question is
flat and crinkles when Steve pulls it out. He can tell in the dim light from
the window that it’s a paper bag.
Quickly, he leans over and flips on his bedside lamp. The light floods his half
of the room and he can see that the paper bag is small and just a bit wrinkled
at the edges, probably from being under Steve’s pillow. Steve’s not sure how it
got there, since he’s never seen it before in his life, but he has his
suspicions. Holding his breath, he opens the bag.
Inside are two things: a note and a picture. Hope flares in Steve. If Tony took
the time to break into Steve’s dorm and leave him a present, he must not be too
angry. Holding the note up to the light, Steve reads. It says, I’m still
pissed, but come by tomorrow and we can talk. It’s not signed, but Tony’s
writing is unmistakable.
If that wasn’t enough proof, though, the second item confirms it. It’s a
picture, sure, but that’s not all it is. The outside is black with white
numbers and words on it that Steve doesn’t understand, but it’s the inside of
the picture that catches his attention, anyway. It’s a rounded triangle, sort
of, with splotches and lines of white and black in it. Toward the center of the
picture is a black circle and within that circle is a tiny white blob. And that
blob, of course, is Steve’s baby.
“Oh my God,” he whispers, staring and staring at the picture. That’s Steve’s
baby. It’s really there and it’s really going to develop into a baby. It’s not
that he doubted it before, but this makes it real in a way nothing else could
have. This is proof. This is beautiful. For second, Steve thinks about going
and shaking Clint, maybe calling Natasha, waking them both up so they can see
with their own eyes this amazing, wonderful thing Steve has in his hands. They
wouldn’t appreciate it, though, not like it deserves, so he stays where he is,
clutching at the picture and looking at it, memorizing it.
For this baby, he thinks, touching the picture gently, there’s nothing Steve
wouldn’t do.
 
 
Steve’s Tuesday classes are from noon to four, but if he’s honest, he doesn’t
pay much attention in either of them. He brings the ultrasound picture with him
and puts it at the corner of his desk so he can stare at it some more. He
catches a few odd glances from the people next to him and barely resists the
urge to hold it up and say, “This is my baby.” He doesn’t, because he doesn’t
want to interrupt the class. He tries valiantly to pay attention to the lecture
and take notes, but at the end of both classes, he realizes he’s only managed
to take sporadic notes and has mostly spent the whole time doodling babies.
Sighing, he packs away his things and vows to do better next class. After all,
he’s not paying for these classes so he can daydream the whole time.
Immediately after classes, Steve rushes over to Tony’s apartment. He mostly
jogs the whole way, dodging other people on the sidewalk and apologizing when
they can’t get out of the way fast enough. Ever since he found out about this
pregnancy, he sometimes likes to stop and watch babies in the crowd, watch how
their parents interact with them. He sometimes commits those scenes to memory
and draws them later, if he can. Today, though, he’s in too much of a hurry to
see Tony. There’s a good chance they’re going to fight again, but Steve’s
confident they can work it out, and he really, really wants to. After seeing
the ultrasound picture, tucked safely into his wallet for now, he just wants to
see Tony again, to touch him, to hold him and feel for himself where this
little tiny baby in the picture is growing.
The door to Tony’s apartment, when Steve tries it, is unlocked again, and Steve
sighs. He’s not going to push it, not today when they’re already fighting, but
it really is unsafe. Hopefully, he can come to some sort of agreement with
Tony, where Tony tries harder to remember to lock his door and Steve does
something in return, something Tony wants from him and hasn’t been getting. Not
sex, of course, that’s still off the table, but pretty much anything else Steve
is willing to do.
He lets himself in, not bothering to knock, but no one’s in the living room.
Steve checks the workshop first, because that’s where Tony usually is at this
time of day, but it’s empty apart from Dummy, who looks up when Steve enters
the room. It’s really awesome and Steve wants to go over and check the robot
out, see what his new programming can do, but he’s got more important things to
do first.
Tony’s not in the bathroom, either, which is good since it means he’s probably
not gotten worse in terms of morning sickness. It does mean, though, that the
only option left is Tony’s bedroom and the door is closed to that room. It
doesn’t bode well, because for all that Steve recognizes that he can’t control
who Tony sleeps with, he’s not exactly okay with witnessing it firsthand. If
Tony has a guy in there, Steve is absolutely not going to be okay with seeing
them together. Cautiously, careful not to make any noise, he listens at the
door, trying to determine if any sex noises are happening inside.
What he hears isn’t sex noises, though. It’s voices, Tony’s and Pepper’s.
“-just saying, you can’t keep this from him forever, Tony.” That’s Pepper’s
voice, high and exasperated, but also slightly worried, if Steve’s any judge.
“He’s going to find out and he’s going to be pissed. And I won’t blame him,
either. This is risk, no matter how small, and he deserves-”
“You think I don’t know that?” Tony’s voice cuts in. It’s not quite a shout,
but he sounds angry and defensive. “It’s my fucking body, Pepper. I know what
it can and can’t do, okay? And you heard the man: it’s barely even a problem. I
just have to watch myself-”
“Right, because you’re so good at that,” Pepper interrupts. “Listen, I’m not
going to force you into anything, but he deserves to know. If you won’t do it
for your sake, think of the baby. The genetics alone are reason enough.”
Tony says something then, too quiet for Steve to hear, but he does catch
Pepper’s sad little laugh.
“Oh, Tony,” she says unhappily. “You are not your father and you’re never going
to be, no matter what. I know that better than most people. Now come here and
give me a hug before I have to leave.”
There’s a shuffling sound from inside the room and Steve backs away from the
door quickly, torn between being terribly curious about the bit of conversation
he just heard and feeling guilty for listening at all. They seemed to be
talking about him, at the beginning, or so he thought, but there’s also the
definite possibility they were talking about Tony’s father the whole time. Tony
still hasn’t told the man about the pregnancy, as far as Steve knows, and that
could be what Pepper’s trying to get him tell. He could just ask Tony, of
course, but he doesn’t want Tony to be even angrier with him, not right now,
anyway. Maybe in a few days, once things have hopefully calmed down, he’ll
bring the subject up somehow.
Steve retreats back into the living room and sits down on the couch. He only
has to wait a few minutes before Pepper and Tony emerge from the hallway, both
looking rather unhappy.
“Hello, Steve,” Pepper says as she passes on her way to the door. Steve nods
back silently.
Tony waits until Pepper is gone, then approaches the couch slowly. “Hey,” he
says, slumping down onto the cushion next to Steve’s. He’s playing with his
hands, not looking Steve in the face. “Did you get the picture?”
“Yeah,” Steve breathes, smiling despite the fight he knows is probably about to
take place. “It was amazing. Thank you.”
“You don’t deserve presents, you know,” Tony tells him. He looks up and meets
Steve’s eyes. Steve thinks he looks more tired than angry by this point.
“I know,” Steve says and he does. “And I’m sorry for what I said outside the
club. I had no right. I just worry about you, you know?”
“Well you don’t have to,” Tony says, voice laced with defiance. “I can take
care of myself and have, in fact, been doing so for years. I don’t need you to
coddle me, especially about sex. I mean, seriously, who’s the almost-virgin in
this room, me or you?”
Steve blushes a bit, but ignores the jibe. “You can’t pretend you’re not
reckless, Tony,” he says, trying to make it less harsh than it sounds in his
head. “I’m not saying you try to be, but you are. And like it or not, that’s
bad for the baby.”
Tony opens his mouth to say something, but Steve rushes on, determined to get
what he has to say out before Tony can sidetrack him or lead the argument in
another direction.
“Natasha says we need to compromise and I’m willing to do that, if you are. I
promise I’ll be less crazy paranoid about your health and I’ll stop coddling
you, but Tony, you have to promise to be more careful. I know you’re making
changes and I appreciate that, I do, but you can’t take stupid risks anymore.”
“I can’t believe you got Natasha involved in our lover’s spat,” Tony says,
rolling his eyes. Steve opens his mouth to say that it can’t be a lover’s spat
if they’re not lovers, but then decides that’s not a conversation he
particularly wants to have right now, and closes it again.
“I’m serious, Tony,” he says instead.
“Dude, okay, okay,” Tony says, holding up his hands in surrender. “I believe
you. I’ll try to be more careful, okay? No welding, no dangerous chemicals, and
I’ll try to remember to lock the goddamn door, alright? But you’ve gotta back
off a bit or I might accidentally strangle you in your sleep. I could do it,
too. You’re a very sound sleeper.”
Steve is, in fact, a very sound sleeper, unlike Tony who tosses and turns and
can never find a comfortable position. He knows Tony wouldn’t really hurt him,
though, just he like he would never hurt Tony, not if he could help it.
“Good,” he says, and smiles. It seems almost too easy, the conclusion of this
argument and Steve knows their problems are far from resolved. Still, he’s
going to take what he can get. “So tell me, what happened at the appointment?”
“Oh, that.” Tony brings his hand up to rub at his neck, but drops it back down
to his lap quickly. “Nothing much. The usual, I guess. They weighed me, took my
temperature, stuck me with a few needles. No biggy. They did the ultrasound,
too, which was pretty awesome. You could hear the heartbeat and everything.”
“Wish I could have been there,” Steve says wistfully.
“You can go next time,” Tony says at once. He looks vaguely guilty, but Steve
knows him well enough to not expect an apology. It was mostly Steve’s fault he
missed the appointment anyway, really. It would have been nice to have been
there, though. “I’ve got another one in a few weeks and you can come with. Then
you can ask all your million and a half questions.”
“Thanks,” Steve says. “What’s the date?” He’s going to mark it on his mental
calendar now, just in case. No way is he missing this next appointment.
“The fifteenth,” Tony says. “It’s a Thursday.”
“Okay,” Steve says, making a note. “I’ll be there.”
There’s a slight lull in the conversation, then, as Tony yawns and makes
himself comfortable on the couch. Steve really wishes he had one of his
pregnancy books with him, because he thinks reading it together might help
them. Of course, the logistics of that might be a problem, since Tony reads
twice as fast as Steve does, but Steve’s sure they can find a way to make it
work.
“So how’s Billy?” Steve asks after a while, even though he really, really
doesn’t want to know. Compromise, though, he’s working on it, and if that means
having to hear about Tony’s exploits, that’s what he’ll do in exchange for Tony
not having that many of them.
“Who?” Tony’s face scrunches up adorably like he’s trying to remember
something.
“The guy from the bar. The guy you went home with.”
“Oh,” Tony says, bring his hand up and rubbing the back of his neck with it.
Steve can’t think why Tony would be nervous right now, but he clearly is. “That
guy. I have no idea how he is, Steve. He just brought me home and left. It’s
not like we got married or vacationed in Tahiti together.”
“Oh,” Steve says, relief flooding through him. “I thought you and he-” He cuts
himself off before he can get worked up over it again.
“I don’t sleep with every guy I meet, you know,” Tony says, but he doesn’t
sound mad. “Contrary to your experience, I guess. But, I mean, if you wanna
come back to my room and show me who’s boss, I’d be totally cool with that.”
“No, that’s okay,” Steve says, even though he really wants to just give in
already. “I’ll take your word for it.” And he will, too. For now, anyway. This
baby means Steve and Tony are going to be stuck together for years to come, and
maybe once Tony gets a little older, Steve can finally take what he wants from
him. Provided, of course, that Tony’s interest lasts that long and someone else
doesn’t stake their claim first. But really, Steve’s trying not to think about
those options. For now, he’s just going to focus on the present, on Tony by his
side, on the ultrasound picture in his wallet, and on their tiny, tiny baby
that’s growing and changing every single day. That’ll just have to be enough.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
     So, this chapter revolves around Steve reading from a first-trimester
     pregnancy checklist. Uh this_one, if you’re curious, though he
     paraphrases quite a bit. It might be a cheating way to write a
     chapter, but I really think this is something Steve would make them
     do. They need to make actual solid steps toward baby-planning and
     based on the type of expectant father Steve’s already proving to be,
     by-the-booking it is clearly important to him, even if it is slightly
     tedious.
“Ok,” Tony says around the screwdriver clenched in his teeth. “Hit me.”
Steve looks down at his pregnancy checklist, the one he'd printed off a highly
recommended baby website. "Number one: Take prenatal vitamins," he reads.
“There's a particular emphasis on folic acid.”
“Check,” Tony says, making a face. “Got a prescription from the ob/gyn. Pepper
filled it two days ago. They make my mouth taste like pennies.”
“How often do you taste pennies?” Steve asks curiously.
“Once I swallowed five cents on a dare,” Tony says, grimacing a bit at the
thought. “For the record, coins do not digest in your stomach.”
“Good to know,” Steve tells him, though he’s not sure it actually is. “Anyway,
number two: Investigate your health care provider to be sure they cover
prenatal care and deliver costs, as well as care for the newborn.”
“Pepper can do that,” Tony says instantly. “She knows all that crap about my
insurance and stuff.”
“Tony,” Steve sighs. “We've been over this. Pepper is not the one having this
baby. She should not be the one doing all the work.”
“Look,” Tony says, actually putting down his screwdriver and fistful of screws
and looking over. “Pepper has been in charge of my finances and all that goes
with it for three years now. That is her actual job. Who's better qualified
than her to call the freaking insurance company and ask about babies?”
As much as Steve hates adding to Pepper’s workload, he can see the logic in
that. If he had Tony call, the insurance company would probably drop him from
their care just on account of how mouthy the kid is. And since Steve’s on the
state plan while he’s in school, it’s not like he really knows anything about
insurance companies. Pepper probably really is the best choice here.
“Okay,” he says after some consideration. “But we’re not making the poor lady
do everything. Anything not money or insurance related, we’re doing ourselves.”
“Even the shopping?” Tony asks, a whine slipping into his voice.
“Even the shopping,” Steve confirms.
“Ugh. Whatever,” Tony says petulantly. “Let’s just get on with this torture,
then.”
“Three: Choose a caregiver and make an appointment,” Steve reads.
“Check.”
“Four: Talk to your caregiver about any medication you're taking.”
“Che-eck,” Tony singsongs, going back to fixing Dummy’s struts.
“Five: Stop smoking or drinking.” Steve stops here, looks up at Tony with what
he feels is justified apprehension. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
“Nooo,” Tony says slowly, hands stilling. He doesn’t look up, but keeps staring
at the metal under his hands. “But I was, you know? Before we knew? Like bad.
Like, daily.”
“Yeah,” Steve says quietly. “I figured. Did you talk to the doctor about it?”
Tony nods. “He said it’s pretty common, actually, drinking before you know.
Lots of people do it. But, well, not a lot of them drank as much as I did. He
said there’s no way to really tell, at this stage, if anything’s going to go
wrong. We just have to wait, see what happens.”
“Okay,” Steve says, forcing his fingers to unclench from their death grip on
the checklist. “Okay. I guess that’s what we’ll do, then. But, I mean, it’s
probably a good sign, right? That you haven’t miscarried or anything?”
“Maybe.” Tony shrugs. “I hope so.”
He looks so young and vulnerable then, with his head bowed and his lower lip
caught between his teeth that Steve can’t help the sudden lump that comes to
his throat. He can’t think about it, not now, not when there’s nothing to be
done. Either the damage was done or it wasn’t, and either way, it won’t help
anything to dwell on it. Slowly, deliberately, he moves on to the next item on
his list.
“Uh, number six: limit your caffeine intake.”
“Check,” Tony says, but his voice is still soft and sad. “I haven’t had coffee
in weeks.”
“You can have some, you know,” Steve tells him. “According to this, anyway, you
can have one cup a day without doing any harm.”
“No,” Tony says, shaking his head. Steve can see him visibly trying to bring
himself back under control. “No, it’s better that I don’t have any. I’ve done
enough damage already.”
“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” Steve tells him abruptly. He believes it with
everything in him and even if something bad does happen to the baby because of
the drinking, he’ll continue to believe it. “You couldn’t have known.”
“Well, I should have,” Tony says, sounding like he’s on the edge of crying at
this point. “I should have fucking known, okay? It’s my job to take care of
this baby and I’ve fucked it up already!”
“Hey,” Steve says, setting down his paper and going over to where Tony is
sitting on the floor next to the couch. He shoves some tools out of the way and
sits next to him so they’re hip to hip, arms brushing together. “Hey, look at
me.”
Slowly, Tony raises his head, turns to face Steve. His eyes are glassy and have
dark bruises under them.
“You haven’t been sleeping much, have you?” Steve asks, cautiously. He reaches
a hand out and touches Tony’s cheek, runs a thumb along his sharp cheekbones.
“I never sleep,” Tony says. It’s true: Tony sleeps terribly at the best of
times and these are far from the best of times.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Steve asks, once again feeling that
terrible helplessness he’s come to associate with fatherhood.
“Nah,” Tony says. He sighs tiredly and leans his head on Steve’s shoulder.
“I’ve just got to ride it out. I’ll sleep eventually, when it gets bad enough.”
“Let me know if you think of something I can do,” Steve says. “I’m always here
for you.”
“Yeah,” Tony says, shrugging. “Whatever. What’s the next item on the list?”
Steve starts to reach for the paper but then thinks better of it. He and Tony
haven’t spent much time together lately, just the two of them, not worrying
about the baby. “Actually,” he says, reaching for the remote instead, “Let’s
just watch a movie, okay?”
“Can we cuddle?” Tony asks, and his voice is so hopeful that Steve can’t turn
him down. And really, it’s something that Steve wants, too. There’s nothing
wrong with a good cuddle, after all, not if it doesn’t lead to sex. And
tonight, he’s got a feeling that Tony’s not up to making a move, anyway.
“Sure,” Steve agrees and pushes himself off the ground. “Let’s sit on the
couch, though.” He helps Tony to stand, too and they both get settled onto the
cushions. Tony leans his head on Steve’s shoulder as Steve flips through
channels, trying to find something soothing.
“Hey, wait, here,” Tony says, reaching out to grab the remote from him and
flipping the channel back a few times to land on an old episode of House, M.D.
Steve gives him a sideways look, but Tony just shrugs. “Guilty pleasure,” he
explains. He smiles a little bit as he says it, though, so Steve considers this
idea a win.
It turns out to be a House marathon, so they watch three episodes of it
together. It’s a nice change of pace, honestly, just to be doing nothing, not
worrying about the baby or planning for the baby or anything like that. They
should do this more often, Steve thinks. He can’t help but watching Tony from
time to time, seeing how he relaxes more and more as the episodes progress.
“We should do this more often,” he tells Tony. For all that they spend time
together daily, it’s almost never just relaxing like this. Lately the baby has
kept them preoccupied, but even before that, they usually went to clubs or the
bar or hung out with Clint and Natasha.
“Yeah,” Tony agrees, smiling almost shyly. “We should.”
It doesn’t solve any of their issues, not really, but that’s okay, for now.
Eventually they’re going to have to have a talk and come to an agreement about
things like their relationship and how they’re going to raise this baby,
logistically speaking, but for now, this is enough.
 
Steve ends up spending the night, which he seems to be doing most weekends now.
It’s just easier this way. He likes to see Tony every day, but during the week
their time together is usually limited to the evenings. On weekends, though,
they can spend all day together or at least most of it, without anything
interfering. It’s good for them, he thinks, to be spending so much time
together, at least in this stage of their relationship, whatever that
relationship might be. They’re having a kid together, after all, and they
should probably know each other quite well by the time that happens. Also, this
pregnancy is a lot of work and it’s better that they do as much of it as
possible together, for moral support.
When Steve wakes up the next morning, Tony’s already in the bathroom, where he
remains for the next hour or so. Steve’s a professional by now, though, just
brings him water and peppermints, very carefully doesn’t touch him while he’s
being sick. The doctor apparently told Tony that if the morning sickness got
much worse, there were medications to combat it, but to try natural remedies
first. Steve’s read in his books about acupressure bands and thinks they might
help, if he could persuade Tony to give them a shot.
Eventually, after the nausea has worn down some, Tony gives Steve the nod and
Steve heads to the kitchen to find them something to eat. For himself, Steve
makes eggs, but Tony only gets toast with a bit of butter. Sometimes if Tony’s
feeling adventurous, he’ll put a bit of cinnamon on the slices, too, but today
is not going to be one of those days.
When Tony finally comes slinking into the kitchen, he looks pretty rough, but
then, he always does at this time of the morning. He didn’t sleep well, even
last night, though they went to bed pretty early, as per item number twelve on
the pregnancy checklist. They were cuddling when Steve fell sleep and on
opposite sides of the bed when he woke up, so if that’s any indication, Tony
tossed and turned all night.
“Thanks,” Tony says sleepily as Steve sets the plate with the toast on it down
in front of him.
“You’re welcome,” Steve says, happy as always when he can actually do something
useful in this pregnancy. “I was thinking we could finish going over the list
for the first trimester today, if you’re up for it.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Tony says around a yawn. He takes a bite of his toast and
makes a face at the blandness of it but keeps chewing.
“After breakfast, then,” Steve tells him. Looking at Tony’s face, his
expression like that of a disgruntled cat, he feels the sudden, almost
overwhelming urge to kiss him softly. Just a peck on the lips, a sweet, simple
gesture of happiness and fondness. He turns away instead.
When Tony’s eaten as much of the toast as he can and Steve’s finished his eggs,
they head into the living room to regroup and try a take two on the reading of
the checklist. The paper’s still there, though it has somehow found its way
under the one of the cushions. Steve retrieves it and makes himself comfortable
on one end of the couch next to Tony, who’s fumbling with designs on his
tablet, apparently finished with Dummy for now.
“Right,” Steve says, scanning the list for where they left off. “Number seven:
make sure your activities are pregnancy-safe. This means avoiding routine
exposure to chemicals, heavy metals, certain biologic agents or radiation.
Also, there are certain chores to avoid, such as lifting furniture, using ant
or roach spray or using certain cleaning products.”
Tony scoffs. “You think I do chores?” he asks dismissively. “I pay people for
that crap.”
“What about your hobbies?” Steve asks delicately, perfectly aware that their
first fight isn’t too far behind them. “You work with metal.”
“Not anymore,” Tony sighs. “From here on out, my work is purely digital. Apart
from Dummy, obviously, but I’ve got you here if I need any heavy lifting done
for him.”
“Call me any time,” Steve agrees. He looks back down at his list. “Number
eight: avoid hazardous foods such as undercooked meat, unpasteurized soft
cheeses, raw eggs, raw fish or shellfish, fish high in mercury and raw
sprouts.”
“Oh my God,” Tony breaks in. “Who the hell eats sprouts?” Steve rolls his eyes,
but Tony persists. “No, seriously,” he says. “Who eats cooked sprouts, let
alone raw ones? I don’t think I even know what one of those suckers looks
like.”
“I’ll find you a picture,” Steve assures him drily. “Just in case you
accidentally consider putting it in your mouth.”
“Baby, I can think of better things than that to put in my mouth,” Tony says,
winking, but he’s only joking, so Steve lets it slide without comment.
“Number nine,” he continues. “Do your best to eat well. This can mean small,
frequent meals, if you like.” This one, he knows, is going to be a problem.
Tony’s not that much underweight for his age, but it’s a mystery to Steve as to
how he’s not. He almost never takes the initiative to get himself food and
Steve’s seen him go days without eating anything more substantial than a cup of
coffee and a protein bar. It’s pretty far from a healthy diet and it’s not
going to cut it now that he’s pregnant. Luckily, he usually eats whatever Steve
puts in front of him without even noticing, so that’s a place to start.
“Number ten is related.” He reads on. “Stock your pantry with healthy stuff,
like nuts, fresh and dried fruit, yogurt and multi-grain pasta.”
“Oh good,” Tony says tonelessly. “Something to look forward to. All health
foods, all the time. I don’t even want to think about it. Next item.”
Steve allows himself a small chuckle before moving on. “Number eleven: Get
relief from morning sickness.”
“Wish I could,” Tony mutters savagely. “You’d better move on before the nausea
decides to come back for revenge or something.”
“Number twelve: Go to bed early.”
At this, Tony looks at him incredulously. “These are pointless, Steve,” he
whines. “They’re all either telling us stuff we already know or stuff that’s
not going to help, anyway. It doesn’t matter how early I go to bed, I’m still
not going to sleep worth a damn.”
It’s a good point. “Do you want me to stop?” Steve asks. He likes the idea of
being prepared, but if Tony thinks this is doing more harm than good, he’ll nix
the idea and find something else to guide them.
“Nah,” Tony says carelessly. “Let’s just get this over with. I know how cranky
you get when things don’t work out according to your plans.” It’s an unfair
assessment, but Steve knows Tony is deflecting and lets it go.
“Okay. Number thirteen: Consider your options for prenatal testing, including
screening to determine your baby’s risk for Down syndrome and other chromosomal
or genetic disorders. There’s also chorionic villus sampling (CVS), done at 11
to 12 weeks.”
“I want them,” Tony says at once and Steve looks up, surprised by the intensity
in his voice.
“Do you think there’s a problem with the baby?” he asks carefully. They both
know there’s the risk because of Tony’s drinking and Steve doesn’t feel like
rehashing that, but that’s not a genetic or chromosomal problem, necessarily.
“Probably not,” Tony says, far too casually for Steve’s liking. Any time he
sounds that casual about anything, it always means he’s hiding something. “But
just in case, you know? Better safe than sorry.”
“Right,” Steve says slowly. Tony’s face is set and Steve can tell from the way
he’s holding himself that even if they fight about this right now, he’s not
going to get anything else out of him about it. He’s going to have to wait
until later when Tony’s defenses are down to try to worm whatever it is out of
him.
“Next,” Tony prompts, taking advantage of Steve’s silence.
Steve moves on, but he’ll definitely be coming back to this. “Number fourteen:
learn the signs of pregnancy problems. Uh, there’s a long list here. Do you
want me to read it?”
“Nah,” Tony says, waving his hand dismissively. He’s gone back to his tablet,
with every indication of not paying attention, except for how his eyes keep
sneaking glances at Steve whenever he thinks Steve isn’t looking. “We’ll just
tack it to the fridge or something. What’s next?”
“Fifteen,” Steve reads. “Think about how and when you’ll announce your
pregnancy to your friends, family and co-workers.” He looks up at Tony. “Um,
about that. Have you told your parents yet?”
“No,” Tony says shortly. “Why would I?”
“Well, they’re your parents,” Steve says. He knows if his mother was alive,
he’d definitely have told her by now, if not so he could freak out to her than
at least so she could feel the joy of being a future grandmother.
“Semantics,” Tony says dismissively. “I haven’t talked to them in months,
Steve. They’re not a part of my life.”
“But don’t you want them to know they’re going to be grandparents?” Steve
tries. “Aren’t they going to want to be a part of the baby’s life?”
“I don’t honestly care what they want.” There’s a cold note in Tony’s voice,
one Steve hasn’t heard before. “I am not letting that man near my child. He did
enough damage already, thanks. I’m not letting the bastard fuck up this kid
more than it’s already going to be just from me raising it.”
Steve’s honestly not sure what to say to that. He hasn’t heard the whole story
of Tony’s childhood or even most of it, but from what he’s been able to glean
from Tony’s hints here and there, it was less than ideal. He hates to think
poorly of people he’s never met, but Tony’s parents apparently did a number on
him. Steve knows Tony, though, knows him well enough to be able to say that no
matter what his parents did to him as a child, Tony’s not going to turn around
and do the same thing to their kid.
“You’re not your father,” he says softly.
“You don’t even know my father,” Tony says, but he smiles slightly like he
appreciates the gesture all the same. “Let’s just move on, okay? Clint and
Natasha already know and I accidentally told my lab buddy Bruce last Friday, so
that’s all the important people. What’s next on the list?”
The better part of valor, Steve decides, is knowing when to let it go and come
back to it another time. “Sixteen: Join a pregnancy club to connect with other
expecting parents.”
“Ugh. No thanks,” Tony says firmly. “Just what I want to do with my spare time:
sit around with other preggos drinking virgin mimosas and trading stories about
how bad our feet are swelling. No thanks!”
“It’s probably not a good idea,” Steve agrees. “Plus, unless they’ve got one
just for teenagers, I’m not sure anyone would take you seriously, anyway.”
Tony looks disgruntled at that pronouncement, but willing to overlook it,
provided Steve doesn’t force him to join a club. One thing that can be said of
Tony Stark is that he absolutely does not play well with others, especially
when those others are judging him for being sixteen and pregnant. Once he
starts to show, Steve’s positive he’s going to have to avert many catfights
when Tony gets looks from people in the streets.
“Anyway,” he says and finds the next item on the list. “Seventeen: start taking
belly photos to track your progress.”
At this, Tony looks mildly interested, the same way he always does when someone
other than the paparazzi wants to take his picture. Plays well with others, no;
is a total camera whore, definitive yes. “Tell me more,” he says and Steve
laughs.
“You’re supposed to do it weekly. You can consider wearing the same outfit,
standing in the same spot and striking the same pose. Profiles work best.”
“Sounds good,” Tony says. “Let’s do it later tonight. I mean, you can’t see
anything, yet, but we both know you just want to get my shirt off, anyway.”
Steve kind of does, but as long as he tells himself it’s only about the baby,
it’s okay.
“Number eighteen,” he reads quickly before Tony can continue that line of
thought. “Start a daily ritual to connect with your baby.”
“I’m already connected with the baby,” Tony puts in. “It’s freaking inside me,
okay? I commune with it every time it makes me puke. Trust me, we connect.”
“Okay, okay,” Steve says, putting his hands up in surrender. “I believe you.
We’ll move on. Um, number nineteen.” He stops short, eyes going wide. Because,
number nineteen is ‘Have sex if you feel up to it,’ and Steve sure as hell
isn’t going to say that. It’ll just encourage Tony and that’s the last thing he
needs. Instead, he manages to stutter out, “M-masturbate if you feel up to it.”
“Oh, I do,” Tony says, winking. “Every single day. Multiple times, in fact.
Want to know what I think about when I touch myself, Steve?”
“No,” Steve says firmly. “No, that’s okay.” He knows where Tony is going with
this and it’s not going to do either of them any good to say it out loud.
“It’s you, Steve,” Tony continues anyway. “It’s always you. Every time I get my
hand around my dick, every time I get fingers all up inside myself, I always,
always think about you.”
“Uh, maybe that’s enough of the list today,” Steve says desperately.
“No, no,” Tony says, still smirking. “Let’s keep going. I’m kind of enjoying
myself.”
Steve sighs, but there are only a few left on the list and they’re pretty
important ones. “Fine. Number twenty: Talk to your partner about parenting.”
“Oh,” Tony says, smile falling right off his face. “Well, uh, I mean, I’m not
sure I have any solid ideas here, you know? I mean, obviously, don’t hit your
kids or whatever, don’t ignore them for three days and slap them when they try
to get your attention, and you know, like, love them or whatever, but those are
pretty much a given, right?”
Out of all the things that Tony could have said, the fact that he chose those
ones is pretty telling. Steve himself probably would have said, ‘Love and
discipline, support and encouragement. Empathy, honesty, affection, praise,
consistency, security.’ Those are all the things his mother gave him when she
was alive and those are the things he wants to give his child. He would have
never in a million years have thought to bring up abuse. Tony, though, he
obviously hasn’t had the best role models in his life.
“Definitely not,” Steve agrees. “Tony, we’d never hurt our child. You would
never hurt our child.”
“Damn straight,” Tony says, but he looks like he’s trying to make himself
believe it.
“If you ever want to talk about it,” Steve says carefully, “I’m here. You know
that, right? I’ll listen to anything you have to say.”
“I’m good,” Tony says firmly. “But, uh, thanks. I appreciate it, really. Let’s
just move on. What’s next?”
“We’re coming back to this,” Steve warns, but reads the next item. “Twenty-one:
Make a baby budget.”
“Budgets are for people who aren’t rich,” Tony reminds him. “We don’t need one
of those. And even if we did, that falls very firmly into the category of
things I pay Pepper for, remember?”
Steve nods his agreement, ready to be done with this whole list thing so they
can move on to something else. Maybe they can watch TV and cuddle again like
they did last night. Or maybe they can take a nice walk in the park. Either
would be fine, as long as he’s with Tony.
“Number Twenty-two: get ready to see or hear your baby with ultrasound. Well,
you’ve already done that, so I guess this one’s just for me.”
“You’re pretty excited, huh?” Tony says, grinning. “I gotta tell you, it was
awesome, Steve. It didn’t look like much, but it was really there, right there
inside me. I, uh, I never felt like that, you know?”
“Yeah,” Steve says. He knows the feeling, because it’s the same one Steve got
when he saw that ultrasound picture for the first time, the one he still gets
every night when he looks at it before he goes to sleep.
And speaking of things that give him that same feeling: “Last one,” he says.
“Start a baby name list. Any ideas?”
“Anything but Anthony,” Tony says, with a mock shudder.
“I don’t know,” Steve says, smiling at him. “I kind of like Anthony.”
Tony makes a face. “You’re just saying that to wind me up,” he accuses.
“I am,” Steve admits. “But I think it’s about time, anyway, considering how
often you feel the need to wind me up. Seriously, though, Anthony’s not a bad
name.”
“Okay,” Tony says. “What about Steven, then. That’s not a bad name, either.”
“It has always served me well,” Steve agrees. “But I see where you’re coming
from. I wouldn’t want our baby to be named after me, really. It’s too weird.
Seriously, though, are there any names that have particularly special meaning
to you? Maybe a family name or something?”
After a bit of thought, Tony shakes his head. “No. We’re sure as fuck not
naming the kid after either of my parents and I can’t even think of that many
of my other relatives’ names, so obviously they’re not that important. What
about your mom, though? I mean, you seem like you kinda miss her sometimes and
Sarah is a decent name.”
“Sarah,” Steve repeats, considering it. It’s a name he’s sort of fond of, it’s
true, and he does miss his mother so bad it’s hard to breathe some days. He
tries not to think of it like that, tries only to think of the happy time he
had with her, but it’s hard. He does like the idea of honoring her memory like
that, though. “Okay,” he says at last. “We’ll add it to the list.”
“Great,” Tony says and stands up. “I guess this means the checklist is done.
Let’s just make a vow here and now never to do anything like this again. Deal?”
“Tony,” Steve says, laughing a bit. “This was only the list for the first
trimester. We’ve still got two of these to go.”
“Oh God,” Tony says, letting his head fall back in despair. “Just shoot me,
Steve. I can’t do it. You’re going to have to move on without me. If there’s
anything you wanted to say, do it now, because I am just not going to make it
through two more of these lists.”
Obviously, he’s being dramatic, but it does remind Steve of the conversation he
heard the other day, the one between Pepper and Tony that he’d only caught the
tail end of. “Tony,” he says seriously. “Is there anything you want to tell me?
Anything about the baby, maybe?”
Tony straightens up and takes a step back. He looks Steve straight in the eye
and says very casually, “No. There’s nothing.”
Steve would believe it, he would, except that he can see the shake in Tony’s
hands, the slight twitch of his left eye, both signs Tony’s not quite telling
the truth. Which means there is something, something Tony won’t tell him about
the baby. Steve opens his mouth, not sure what he’s going to say, only that he
can’t let this go.
And that is the exact moment his phone rings. It’s Natasha and her voice is
shaking when she tells him the news. Clint’s been arrested.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     short chapter, but it's been two months, so an update is an update
     right?
     This one's for you, Rose. Hopefully I'll have something more
     substantial than this in a few days
“What do you mean arrested?” Steve asks stupidly.
“Arrested?” Tony repeats from beside him. “Who’s been arrested?”
“As in, the cops came to your dorm room and took him away in cuffs.” Now that
she’s gotten Steve’s attention, Natasha’s voice calms a bit. “As in, he’s being
taken down to the police station right now to be interrogated and quite
possibly charged.”
“Steve,” Tony says, his voice rising when Steve doesn’t answer him immediately.
“Who’s been arrested?”
“It’s Clint,” Steve tells him quickly, then asks Natasha, “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” she says, a tiny hint of panic creeping back into her voice.
“We were supposed to meet at your place so he could get his things for archery
practice before we went to lunch. He was late, just like he always is and five
minutes after he got there, the police were at the door with their cuffs out.
He resisted, of course, because he’s an idiot, so they pinned him down while
they read him his rights then they just dragged him away.”
“Okay,” Steve says, trying to think of something to say to calm her, something
he can possibly do in this situation. He’s an art student, not pre-law. He
knows nothing about criminal justice. None of them do, in fact. Between the
four of them, they’ve got five almost-finished bachelor’s degrees and not a
single one of them is useful in this circumstance. “I, uh, I don’t know what to
do here,” he admits.
“Oh my God,” Tony says exasperatedly. “Give me the phone!” he demands.
“What?” Steve asks, clutching the phone to his ear. “Why? What are you going to
say?”
As far as Steve knows, engineering students don’t have any more preparation in
criminal justice or law than anyone else. Tony just gives him a look, though,
one that seems to be a mixture between frustration and pity.
“Do you think I’ve never been arrested?” he asks slowly. “Steve, seriously.
This is me we’re talking about. My father has a lawyer on retainer full time
just in case I get into trouble or need legal advice. I’ve got this. Now give
me the phone.”
Well, that’s certainly got Steve convinced. He’s got seriously mixed feelings
about Tony having a criminal history, but there’s no denying it’ll come in
handy now. He hands the phone over.
“Natasha,” Tony says into the phone immediately. “Tell me exactly what
happened.”
Steve waits, rather impatiently, he’ll admit, for Natasha to give her account
again, while Tony nods thoughtfully.
“Right,” Tony says at last. “Okay. And you don’t have any idea what the charges
might be?”
He sighs at whatever Natasha says, but seems to accept it. “Alright,” he tells
her. “Hang tight. I’m going to call my lawyer and have him head down to the
precinct. Then me and Steve will get Happy to drive us over there to where you
are and we can all go down to see what’s going on together.”
Natasha must say something else, because Tony smiles softly and says, “Yeah,
I’m glad I met you guys, too.” Then he looks at Steve and actually blushes,
which is painfully adorable. If Steve had the time or the emotional capacity
left over from worrying about Clint and this whole situation, he would be
almost hopelessly charmed.
As it is, though, they’ve got a friend in custody to deal with, and that always
comes first. Tony does as he promised and calls his lawyer immediately after
hanging up with Natasha. Judging from the side of the conversation Steve can
actually hear, the lawyer does not sound happy. Tony keeps saying things like,
“It wasn’t my fault this time!” and “It’s not like that, I swear!” and even
once, “I never stole a show pony; that was just borrowing!” By the time he
hangs up, he looks harassed but satisfied.
“Okay,” he says. “He’ll be there. He’s not happy about it and I’m going to owe
him my firstborn, but he’ll be there.”
“He can’t have our firstborn,” Steve says quickly, because he knows how tricky
these lawyers are and he’s almost positive that there are people out there who
would pay serious money for their baby, especially since it’s probably going to
have Tony’s genius.
“Well, no,” Tony agrees like it’s obvious. “He wouldn’t want it, anyway.
Coulson’s a very patient man, but I’m not sure he has it in him to raise
children. Not a child that came out of me, anyway. He tells me at least once
every time we interact that I’m the bane of his existence. At the very least,
though, he’s proven himself to be very dedicated. Once Baby gets old enough to
start breaking laws, Coulson will be there to get him out of it.”
“Baby is not going to be breaking any laws,” Steve says firmly as Tony dials
Happy. “Baby is going to be very well-behaved and never have a run-in with the
law in his life.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Tony says while he’s waiting for the driver to
pick up. “Hey, Hap,” he says into the phone. “Uh, could you do me a favor and
come pick me and Steve up at the apartment? We need a ride to the police
station.” There’s a pause, then Tony makes a face. “Yes, I’m aware the police
usually give me a free ride there. No, it’s not funny. Stop laughing, jerk!”
Steve can just picture Happy’s earnest face, see him biting his lip to try not
to laugh. Happy’s a good man, always willing to put up with Tony’s crap and
never even minding when Tony calls at four in the morning because he’s in the
mood for cheeseburgers and can’t find a single pair of matching shoes in which
to walk to the diner three streets over.
“I’m just not sure what Clint could have done,” Steve says after Tony gets off
the phone and they head into the bedroom to start getting dressed. They’ve
pretty much been lounging around in their pajamas today, just like every
Sunday. It’s good for Tony, Steve thinks, to have a day to just hang around and
not worry about looking good and Steve’s always hopeful that he can convince
Tony to take a nap in the afternoon. Today though, that’s looking like an
impossibility. Today, they’ve got other business to attend to.
“Who knows,” Tony says, grabbing one of Steve’s shirts off the ground and
giving it a tentative sniff. “Can I wear this?”
“Sure,” Steve says, ignoring the heated feeling he gets in his stomach because
Tony wants to wear his clothes. That shirt’s going to be ridiculously too big
for him and everyone will know that it’s because it’s Steve-sized. Everyone
will know Tony is Steve’s. Except, then he remembers that Tony’s not his. Tony
is too young to belong to anybody, even Steve, even the man whose shirt he’s
wearing and child he’s carrying. And anyway, they’ve got more important things
to worry about than Steve’s possessive streak. Like Clint, for example.
Determinedly, Steve averts his eyes just like every time Tony gets naked or
semi-naked around him and starts getting dressed himself before he can get
caught up again. He focuses on dressing and running a comb through his hair. He
also splashes water on his face, just for good measure. When he comes back out
of the bathroom, Tony’s already in the living room, tying his shoes.
“Ready?” he asks and Steve nods.
They only have to wait about ten minutes for Happy to show up and then they’re
off. They make a pit-stop to pick up Natasha at the dorms. She’s wearing
Clint’s hoodie, Steve notices, which probably means she’s more worried than
she’s letting on. Steve thinks he’d be more worried, too, except that Tony’s
been obscurely comforting this whole time, radiating confidence and assurance.
Tony, at least, knows how this is done and if he says his lawyer is the best,
Steve believes it. If anyone can get Clint out of trouble, it’s this Coulson
guy.
Sure enough, by the time they pull up to the police station downtown, Clint’s
already being frog-marched out of the building and into the parking lot by a
very stern-looking man in his early thirties wearing a steel grey suit.
“Hey, buddy!” Tony says, bounding out of the car before it’s come to a complete
stop. Steve grits his teeth at how dangerous that is, but lets it go. Now is
just not the time.
“Hey,” Clint says, waving at them with the arm not captured in the firm grip of
Tony’s lawyer. “Thanks for sending out the big dogs, man. I thought I was a
goner for sure.”
Tony just shrugs. “No problem, dude. And Coulson, high-five for whatever magic
stunt you pulled to get my buddy out of the big house.” He actually holds up
his hand, grinning madly at his lawyer, but the man just blinks and turns away.
“Burn,” Tony mutters, but lets it go, and Natasha takes the opportunity to
strut up to Clint and punch him very firmly in the shoulder.
“Don’t you ever scare me like that again, asshole,” she says viciously. “I
thought I was going to have to visit you in prison!”
“You still might,” the lawyer puts in and they all turn to him. Steve feels a
sliver of apprehension in his stomach. He’d thought that Clint not being in
custody anymore meant that the problem was solved, but he supposes that’s not
really how the law works, is it? There’s probably going to have to be a trial
or something, maybe a plea deal.
“Wait,” he says, determined to be the responsible one in the group, since no
one else seems able to fill the role. “What do you mean by that? What did Clint
even do?”
“Your friend here,” Coulson says, tightening his grip on Clint’s arm enough to
make the kid wince, “was involved in an altercation with a wealthy and highly-
connected individual on the street. They’re making a case for assault, but I’m
quite sure I can bring it down to disorderly conduct, in which case the
punishment could be anything from a fine and probation to a limited amount of
jail time.”
“An altercation?” Steve repeats, looking at Clint for clarification. “With
who?”
Clint just grins. “Loki,” he says viciously and holds up his bruised knuckles
as proof. Steve’s heart sinks at the name. “I got the bastard good.”
“I’ll expect you to show a bit more remorse when called before the judge,”
Coulson says drily.
“Loki?” Natasha sounds seriously pissed. “Clint, you idiot! You know he’s rich!
It’s no wonder the police are out to get you; he always runs to the
authorities. What did he even say to you?”
“I don’t remember,” Clint mutters, but it’s clear to everyone that he’s lying.
Whatever the man said, it must have been bad. Knowing Loki, it was probably a
very low hit, something terrible about one of Clint’s friends.
“Hold up,” Tony says. “Who the fuck is Loki?”
Steve turns to him, surprised and sees the others do the same. Sometimes it’s
easy to forget Tony hasn’t been their friend for longer than a few months,
especially because of how close they’ve all become so fast, but the whole
incident with Loki happened over a year ago, which would have been before
Tony’s time with them.
“He’s a no-good, lying sack of shit that deserved my fist in his face,” Clint
spits viciously. Coulson just sighs, but Steve and Natasha both nod at the
assessment. Tony turns to Steve for clarification, which Steve won’t deny makes
him feel a little giddy- out of all of their friends, Tony trusts him the most,
knows he’s the one to go to for a straight answer.
“We met him at the beginning of last year,” Steve explains. “He seemed alright
at first, a real cool guy who was just misunderstood and was having family
problems. We thought we’d take him in, make him a part of the group, but then
things got weird.”
“He attacked Natasha,” Clint put in, sounding as pissed as Steve’s ever heard
him.
“Sexually?” Tony asks, almost looking like he’s afraid to hear the answer. The
kid doesn’t take many things seriously, but sexual assault is definitely one of
them.
“Kind of,” Steve says. “It’s hard to explain. He talked Clint into thinking
that Natasha didn’t want him around anymore and he talked me into thinking
Clint and Natasha were trying to become a couple and I was only getting in the
way. The whole point was that he wanted to get Natasha alone so he could have
sex with her. He tried to convince her that we were ditching her on purpose
because we didn’t like her, but she was too smart to believe that, so he ended
up trying to force himself on her.”
“So what did you guys do?” Tony asks, wide-eyed.
“I kicked his ass,” Natasha says, like it’s obvious.
“And then I kicked his ass,” Clint adds.
“I went to the authorities,” Steve says, and everyone else rolls their eyes.
Admittedly, his plan hadn’t worked, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right
way to do things. He’s all for ass-kicking, but Clint and Natasha had had that
down, so he’d gone the responsible route and turned him in to the university.
They probably would have expelled him, too, except his dad made a donation or
two and got everything sorted out, so to speak.
“So now he’s your arch nemesis?” Tony asks, something like awe in his voice.
He’s looking right at Steve, with a look on his face like he’s picturing some
kind of superhero or something. Steve blushes.
“Something like that,” he says.
“As fascinating as this is,” Coulson interrupts, “I have to get going. I do
have other things to do besides run after Tony Stark and clean up his mess.”
“I told you-” Tony starts, but Coulson just holds up a hand like he doesn’t
want to hear it.
“I’ll be around,” he tells Clint. “We’ll need to meet in a week or so to get
this whole thing figured out. Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”
“I didn’t give you my number,” Clint says, fishing for his phone in his pocket.
“Don’t worry,” Coulson tells him over his shoulder, already starting to walk
away. “It’s taken care of.”
“So, that was creepy,” Clint says after Coulson’s out of earshot.
“Also anticlimactic,” Natasha adds. “I expected this arrest to be way more
trouble.”
“Coulson’s probably going to have him plea out,” Tony says, shrugging. “Get you
community service or something. But you’ve got a while before that even
happens. The law moves like a glacier, seriously. So, anyone want a ride home?”
They all shuffle back to the car, where Happy holds the door open for them,
still smiling like he thinks this whole thing is the funniest thing he’s ever
heard. He even gives Clint a high-five. Steve would tell him not to encourage
the guy, but he thinks they’re probably beyond that point anyway, at this stage
of things.
Happy drops Clint and Natasha off at the dorms. Clint gives Tony an awkward hug
before he gets out and Natasha says, “Thank you,” more sincerely than Steve’s
ever heard from her before. Tony looks bemused by the attention, but lets it
go.
“Well,” he says, snuggling into Steve’s side after they’re alone in the car
again. “That was quite the adventure. How about a nap?”
“Sounds good,” Steve tells him. One crisis averted, or at least postponed, so
now it’s back to SteveTony time.
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