TONY STARK: KING OF BABY-PROOFING

Tony wasn't used to anyone being able to disappear on him.

That it was Steve who disappeared… Well. That sort of felt like an insult added to the injury of walking into the kitchen, expecting to see Steve already awake and perky at the breakfast table, and finding instead an empty chair and a note on the computer that Steve was officially inactive as an Avenger.

There wasn't any other note. No e-mail. No written letter. No voicemail. Steve was just gone.

Tony didn't believe it for a long moment. He ran up the stairs two at a time, too impatient to wait for the elevator, knocking so furiously on Steve's door that he woke up Clint; Clint didn't even leave time for Tony to explain, merely mumbled under his breath before flipping Tony the bird and disappearing back into his room. Tony scowled and punched in his skeleton key code into the panel locking Steve's room and he hurtled in, eyes wide as he took in everything in front of him.

It had been stripped clean of anything which said this room was Steve's. No clothes. None of the photos Steve had carefully balanced on the 1930s style furniture he and Jan had so carefully sourced to help make Steve feel at home here. None of the little sketches Steve seemed to leave everywhere.

Gone. Just stripped clear. Tony's throat was dry. He stumbled out of the room, shaking his head wordlessly.

"Tony," Jan said, emerging from her bedroom, close to Steve's; her hair was a mess and she was wearing a big fluffy robe covered with pink hearts. She looked at his downcast face and looked instantly worried. "What's wrong."

Tony swallowed. "Did—Did Steve say anything to you about leaving?" His voice cracked a little on the last word.

Jan's eyebrows furrowed. "No." Her frown deepened even further. "What do you mean leaving?"

Tony let Steve's door open fully, showing the gaping, clinical emptiness within. Jan ambled over, shock replacing her concern.

"Steve's gone," Tony said.

Apparently no one had personally heard from Steve before his big disappearing act.

If it hadn't been the logs that required passwords that couldn't be faked, and camera footage from several directions of Steve voluntarily leaving the tower with two big bags, with no one forcing him out at gunpoint, Tony was sure people would believe him that something must have happened.

Their security protocols were thorough. Steve had done it voluntarily. There was no question of that.

But just because Steve had done it of his own volition didn't mean he'd done it happily. Steve would have told him why he was going, if everything was okay, surely? He hadn't, so it couldn't be okay. And if things weren't okay, then Tony needed to help. It was a simple if-then sequence.

No one seemed willing to support Tony either, so he did the next obvious step: registered himself as inactive too, so he had extra time to track Steve down. Okay, he felt a little guilty removing Iron Man from the active roster, because it would leave the team two short instead of just one, but getting Steve back was worth some limited inconvenience, surely?

Steve was an expert at covering his own tracks – and he was covering his own tracks, it was obvious. One large ATM withdrawal, and then some footage of Steve accessing a lockbox at the Empire Municipal bank, and then Steve's route was meticulous; Tony managed to track him partially across the city via CCTV, but Steve turned down an alley, and although he looked, Tony couldn't find where he re-emerged.

But once Tony knew for sure that Steve was hiding, that ironically made it easier for Tony to find him. Because he knew how Steve thought. Most of the time, anyway. They'd talked about it once, on one of their irregular but frequent picnics; dozing under the sun on a blanket, pleasantly full and satisfied after another successful supervillain skirmish; Steve had waxed lyrically about what he thought his life might be like. There was a little town in Maine that his mother had taken him to, just once; the only vacation of Steve's childhood that he could recall with any clarity. Steve spoke about it fondly. It had been the only place he remembered his mom being truly happy.

With those connections in mind, it was swift work to find the town Steve had mentioned, and discovered a small paper trail where a house in that town had been purchased for cash, by a Joseph Grant. Tony snorted to himself. Steve didn't exactly have a knack for the undercover work; he was only good at it in the field when he had to be, because there was little that Steve didn't excel at, when he worked at it. But left on his own, Steve's idea of a disguise was a hat and a trench coat; it seemed his talent for picking undercover names existed in the same ballpark.

Tony barely hesitated – he grabbed his briefcase, a change of clothes, the biggest first-aid kit he could find, his toolkit – and he left the tower. He didn't leave a note for the Avengers to let them know where he was going, because they hadn't been concerned enough – in Tony's opinion – that Steve had left without one. He did wave up cheerily at the tower's security cameras as he left.

Tony might not know why, but he knew Steve had covered his tracks, and maybe it was for a good reason, so that was why Tony drove, instead of just taking his armor out for a spin. Lots of people tried to get footage of that; it wouldn't do for someone to piece together pictures of him on social media into a flight plan. Instead, he picked his least flashy car, and used one of his own inventions to obscure him from security cameras as he went.

Tony would have enjoyed the drive if he wasn't so worried. What was Steve running from? What could Steve be running from? Tony's mind was working at hyper speed as he made the seven-hour drive. Was he running from the Maggia? Had he gotten into a gambling debt? Was he—was he dying and didn't want any of them to know, so he was nobly running away to die alone in the state of lobster shacks and pine trees?

By the time Tony had reached his destination, it was nearly dark, and he'd semi-convinced himself that Steve had an inoperable brain tumor. Tony rehearsed the speech he was going to make if that much was true. I know this is scary, Tony mouthed to himself, but I'm your friend and we're going to get through this together.

The house that Tony was 99.5% sure was Steve (Tony liked to include room for error in all of his beliefs) wasn't remarkable; white wooden fascias that matched the houses to both sides of it. A well-manicured, small lawn. A single-car garage to one side.

"I know this is scary," Tony muttered under his breath. "But I'm your friend and we're going to get through this together."

He killed the engine, pocketed his keys, exited his car, and stared at the house speculatively. Someone was home; there was light peeking through the curtain cracks in one of the ground floor rooms.

It was fine if it wasn't Steve. Tony could run back to his car and drive back to New York overnight and no one would ever know he'd failed. No one would ever believe a random nobody in Maine who said Tony Stark had briefly appeared on their doorstep for ten seconds.

Tony hurried up the path, knocked loudly on the front door, and found he was weirdly holding his breath. Steve disappearing without word had really rattled him.

There was movement inside; Tony could see the shadow of someone coming to the door. It was certainly someone tall enough to be Steve. Tony took a deep breath, mentally rehearsing again his brief speech. Whatever it was, Tony could help Steve, he was sure.

There was a rattling noise of someone loosening a chain, drawing back a bolt, and then the door opened.

Despite the 0.5% of doubt, Tony was braced to see Steve standing there in the doorway, blinking in confusion that Tony was there. And he was. Steve looked exhausted. He was frowning slightly. There were bags under his eyes. Tony was expecting that; if Steve was dying, he would look crappy. Tony had been braced for that.

He had not braced himself to see what Steve was carrying carefully in his arms: a small baby, wrapped in a white blanket, fast asleep.

Tony had no idea what to say to that.

Unfortunately, his brain didn't know he didn't know what to say.

"I know this is scary, but I'm your friend and we're going to get through this together," Tony blurted.

Steve's frown deepened. "What?"

It was a complicated story, compounded by the accompanying sensation that Tony couldn't shake: that he was actually losing his mind.

Steve's new baby – Sarah – wasn't genetically his own child. She was the grandchild of Dino Manelli, one of the Howling Commandos that Steve had served with during the war. Dino's own daughter had died in a car crash a few weeks ago, leaving Dino as the proxy carer. But then Dino had died, and for some reason – he'd chosen Steve to be Sarah's guardian, should something happen to him. The paperwork was solid; apparently naming Captain America as your child's guardian was acceptable, even though Steve and Dino weren't even remotely related.

So there Steve was, immediately Sarah's primary and sole guardian. A social worker that had suggested that Steve could put Sarah into foster care, as Dino had no other living relatives left who could try and make a claim for custody, but Steve couldn't bear the idea. The idea of letting Sarah go into the system had been too much. Steve knew he would never forgive himself for not keeping her. He knew what he had to do.

Tony nodded throughout it all, shell-shocked. Steve had a baby. An actual baby. For real. That was legally his.

She was a real cutie too, as far as babies went. Steve, exhausted as he seemed, was a natural with her too. Tony had to admit he was having very wobbly feelings about Steve, seeing his strong arms cradling such a small baby.

"Have you looked up local schools yet? Nursery places can be hard to get, even at her age. And have you registered her yet with a local physician?" Tony pulled out his StarkPhone, immediately looking up the town on his browser. "We should check out their reviews, see which one is the best one to ask for—"

"This is why I didn't tell you," Steve hissed, trying to keep his voice low so Sarah didn't wake up.

Tony froze, mid-rant. "What?"

"Because you always have to get involved." Steve's jaw was clenched mulishly; he ran his spare hand through his hair, leaving it stuck up every which way. Tony had the instant urge to comb it flat again and he swallowed; trying to do that would just prove Steve right. "This isn't your kid, Tony. She's mine. I'm going to raise her however damn well I please."

Steve's raised voice had woken Sarah. Steve's expression turned sour. "Great. Now look at what you've done. You've woken her up."

Tony gaped. Steve was tired, that's all this was.

"I can look after her while you take a nap," Tony offered, feeling awkward. It was reasonable for Steve to be overwhelmed; he was obviously dealing with a lot, surprise babies and all.

"You can get out," Steve returned, gently rocking Sarah, glaring at Tony. "I mean it. Get out. We're just fine without you. Get in your fancy car and leave us alone."

And Tony, well, he was just startled enough to do as Steve ordered.

Tony meant to drive off in a huff, but he got as far as the end of Steve's street before he braked sharply, folded his hands on his steering wheel, and whacked his forehead into them with a soft moan.

What the fuck had just happened? Steve had a baby. A baby. And Tony had let himself be chased away with barely any of the story? With still so very little explanation as to what the fuck was going on?

Tony took a breath. Steve needed some sleep. He'd have gotten that necessary sleep if he'd let Tony stay; Tony could have taken Sarah for a while, let Steve have a nap. Being a parent was hard enough; being a single parent was insane. Especially when Steve had options. Tony was furious, all of a sudden. There was no way Steve should be doing this alone. Sure, he might have no living blood relatives left, but he had family. He had the Avengers. He had Tony.

Maybe Steve just didn't know he had Tony. Like that. As a potential… partner.

Tony straightened up from his slump of misery and began to plan instead. He wasn't a quitter. He would go and find a hotel room, and return to Steve's house in the morning, refreshed and ready to apologize for overstepping his bounds (he didn't think inquiring about nurseries and doctors was an overstep, but Steve clearly felt so, which was the important thing), and get the answers he needed that would help him convince Steve to come back to New York with his kid. Tony could totally baby-proof the tower; he'd Logan-proofed it already, it couldn't be much harder than that.

Baby-proofing, though; there was a thought. Tony hadn't seen much of Steve's new house, but he'd caught a glimpse of an open socket, and a sharp table edge. He'd put good money on the fact that Steve was so overwhelmed by learning how to parent Sarah that he hadn't had time to learn you were supposed to baby-proof a house.

Tony had come all this way without a New Home gift. Maybe some baby-proofing bits and pieces would be more appreciated than a bunch of flowers.

A little voice did point out that Tony probably was overstepping with that idea, but Tony shot that voice down. Steve had been perfectly uncivil in the face of Tony's well-meaning curiosity; he'd just have to deal with another burst of kindness. Before, Tony guessed, never seeing him again.

Ugh, that thought sucked.

Baby-proofing Steve's house was even easier than Tony imagined; he made an early-morning run to a nearby hardware store, slinging on a baseball cap and sunglasses and promptly ruining his disguise by using his credit card, but thankfully Tony was able to pass it off with a laugh and a muttered, yeah, I get mistaken for him all the time. The clerk helpfully advised him to shave off his beard as he rang up Tony's purchases if he wanted to avoid the unwanted comparison.

Tony muttered about it all the way to Steve's house, but when he got there, Steve wasn't home. He must have taken baby Sarah out. Maybe to get her registered with a doctor, Tony thought victoriously. He considered bagging the items up and writing out a note, but then Tony re-thought it, jogged back to his car, pulled his toolkit out of his trunk, and promptly broke into Steve's house, picking the lock on the back door, internally sighing at the lack of bolts on that entrance.

He had a vain hope he could finish installing everything as a fait accompli, but there was a noise at the front door – a key being turned in a lock – and then Steve murmuring musically under his breath, probably humming to Sarah, and wasn't that a mental image cute enough to give Tony a cavity. Tony gritted his teeth and nonchalantly worked on screwing in the next latch.

"Whoever you are," Steve called out, and Tony glanced up from the drawer he was working on to see Steve had put Sarah down and had a hockey stick outstretched in both hands. Huh. Tony could have sworn Steve was more of a baseball kind of guy.

"Gonna slam me into the boards, huh?" Tony waggled his eyebrows.

"Tony," Steve breathed, and looked relieved for a brief moment before his expression swiftly changed to an angry one. He did put the hockey stick down, so that was something, at least. "What the hell? You freaked me out."

"Hmm," Tony hummed under his breath. "You mean like a beloved colleague zooming off into the night with no note as to where he's gone or if he was ever intending to come back?"

"I—" Steve exhaled noisily. "Fine. Yes. Sorry. But it still doesn't mean you can break and enter into my house."

"I didn't break," Tony argued. "I wiggled your back-door lock a little. You should get a better one. But the entering, yeah, my bad." He lined up the latch, squinting at it carefully. "I'm nearly done, though. Then I'll be out of your hair. For good," he added, in a vicious, unhappy tone.

"I'm—I am sorry for not leaving a note," Steve said, stiffly. "And for—for yelling at you last night. That's not how I wanted to leave things."

"Nothing to apologize about," Tony waved a hand at him without really looking. "I'm exactly the overbearing control-freak you were worried I'd be. I mean, look at me now. Couldn't even successfully storm off."

Steve's mouth tightened at the edges. "What are you even doing?"

"Making your house baby-proof," Tony said, in the key of duh. "I put non-slip pads under all your rugs; there are safety plugs in your open outlets. I'm putting latches now on your drawers and cupboards that could be within her reach soon. She looks like she's gonna hit crawling age pretty damn fast. You're gonna want to install some safety tassels on the kitchen blinds, asap, but you'll need to order those in, your local stores were out."

"Uh," Steve said, looking pole-axed.

"I've got some bumpers to put on the sharper furniture in here too. Once I've installed them, I'll go." Tony fidgeted with his screwdriver as he installed the next latch. "I know I'm overstepping, just like you were scared of, but, well, you hadn't done them yet, and I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing your house wasn't safe."

"I did know about some of that stuff," Steve said, sounding flustered. "But she's not crawling age yet. And I meant to start, it's just—"

"Bet you've had basically zero hours of sleep since you picked up your bundle of joy, huh?" Tony nodded to himself. "That's fine. That's why you're not really supposed to parent alone if you have a choice."

"Tony," Steve said, gently, and yeah, okay, that did come out a little bitter. But what else could Tony be, but resentful? Steve had gone, for forever, and thought it was okay not to leave even a brief goodbye note. That fact had vastly rocked Tony's foundations.

Tony got to his feet; he didn't want Steve to finish that sentence. "I installed a temperature guard on your water heater so it can't go above 120 degrees Fahrenheit, too." Tony nodded across at a wall with a phone outlet. "Once you get your phone line hooked up, make sure you get a wired landline phone. If the power goes out, you want to know you've got a phone working in an emergency. Y'know I'd come in a second, but even Iron Man can't get here faster than an ambulance."

"Thank you." Steve shifted awkwardly. "You really didn't have to do any of this."

Tony looked at him directly in the eye, the first time since Steve had come into the house to see him back here. "Yeah, I did. But it's okay if you don't get why."

"That's not what this is about," Steve muttered.

"Look, I don't care," Tony lied. They both knew it was a lie, but Tony was getting weary of this whole thing. "You have good reasons, I guess. Whatever those reasons are. So I'm just going to finish this, and then I'm going to get out of your hair. Okay?"

"Okay," Steve said, slowly. It sounded like a lie too, but Tony was too exhausted to question it. Even clashing with Steve just this little amount felt like he was being hollowed out.

Tony was glad he had the safety latches to focus on. It meant he was doing something active with his hands, and when he was doing that, he wasn't thinking, and if he wasn't thinking about this whole thing, he wouldn't be screaming.

He couldn't believe what was happening here. What Steve had already implied. Steve wasn't going to come back. Steve was never going to be an Avenger again. Steve had chosen this small, unremarkable town to raise a child that wasn't really his, alone, and he was never going to be by Tony's side again.

It was an unbearable idea, but Tony had no idea how to fix it.

Tony found himself dragging his heels as he installed the last set of latches and it frustrated him. He never wanted to be in a place where he clearly wasn't wanted, but the concept of leaving Steve was so painful. But it would only grow worse if he stretched it out any longer.

So he mentally put on his big boy pants, finished the damn latches, packed up his toolkit, and shakily announced to Steve that he was going.

Steve, cradling Sarah to his chest, just nodded, his expression a little hollow.

Tony was fine walking to the door to leave. He was fine. He was utterly okay with the fact that Steve wanted him gone. This was what Steve wanted and Tony always wanted Steve to have what he wanted. It was a whole pile of wanting. The only thing that fought against that was the other sort of wanting.

The constant ache in his chest, the one he always had around Steve.

The urge that wanted him to kiss Steve. Damn the fear and the nerves that said Steve couldn't possibly feel that way about him. The urge that told Tony to throw all caution to the wind and just kiss him already.

Tony pushed the urge down, even though it was an ache in his damaged chest that never left him alone. He wondered how bad that pain was going to get, away from Steve. He wondered if distance and time would kill it, or if it would just grow and grow and grow, unresolved and unfulfilled.

This was the last time he might ever see Steve again, if Steve had his way. Tony's eyes stung more than he wanted to admit. His vision swam a little. He made it safely onto Steve's doorstep before he turned around, inhaling sharply, readying himself to say a goodbye he wasn't ready to make.

Steve was alive. It wouldn't be the worst chance he'd ever had to say goodbye to someone.

Tony turned, looked up at Steve, and just—lost it. The impulse was too strong. Tony was unable to help himself; he leaned over Sarah, carefully cupped Steve's cheek, and kissed him.

Tony was expecting to have to pull back quickly, blurt a terrible excuse, and then run. He was ready and braced to have to run to his car, to cry all the way home, to sob out his agony that he would never see Steve again, never mind all the other parts, all the other plans he'd had. He'd spent the last few months agonizing over how to ask Steve out on a date. Tony had been trapped in a cycle of planning to do so and failing; he'd failed only because it was important, in a way things rarely were to him. The idea of never seeing Steve again was ripping him apart.

He was ready to run, but...

Steve kissed him back.

It was a warm kiss. A claiming kiss. Tony's lunge was desperation, but Steve turned it into something else. Something stronger. Something familiar. Like coming home.

Tony pulled back slowly, staring at Steve in pleased surprise. Could it be that Steve was harboring feelings too? Surely he wouldn't have kissed Tony back like that if he wasn't feeling something. Tony felt himself fill with a sudden burst of giddy hope.

"Oh, no," Steve breathed, and promptly slammed the door in Tony's face.

Apparently Steve was going to continue surprising him.

Tony sat on the doorstep.

There was no freaking way he was running away now.

Not when Steve kissed him like that.

Tony put a finger on his own mouth, dazed. He wanted to remember every second of it. His poor, damaged heart was pounding.

Steve had to know he was out here. Tony wriggled. The doorstep was hard; his butt was starting to get cold. He was starting to consider going to his car, fetching something soft to sit on, when the door opened again, and Steve's face sheepishly poked out of it.

"Maybe you should come back in?" Steve mumbled.

Tony didn't have to be asked twice.

"First," Steve said, after putting Sarah down for a nap in an adjacent room, "I have to apologize for slamming the door in your face. You startled me."

"I startled you," Tony muttered.

"You surprised me," Steve said, like that clarified anything.

Tony stared at Steve, confused. How could it really be that much of a surprise, that Tony would want to kiss him?

"We go on picnic dates, Steve. Regularly. How did you miss I was completely crazy for you?" Steve shuffled guilty on the spot. Tony's eyes widened. He knew Steve well enough to know what that meant. "You knew?" He felt suddenly, terribly, cold. Embarrassed. How long had Steve known?

"I...wondered," Steve said, still mumbling. His cheeks were pink. "That's why I couldn't tell you. About Sarah."

Tony stared at Steve, suddenly hateful. "You… couldn't tell me you'd been bequeathed an entire child, because you knew that I was in love with you?"

Steve inhaled sharply, like hearing those words out loud rattled him. "I wouldn't have put it like that."

"How would you have put it?" Tony demanded.

"It's not like it's just you," Steve retorted. "I mean, obviously I have feelings for you too—"

"Yeah," Tony said bitterly, "running off to Maine, covering your tracks, not telling me you were basically adopting your dead friend's baby—that really spells out the fact that you have feelings for me—Clearly I should have picked up on that!"

"Well, okay, maybe there are some things we've never talked about that we should have," Steve took a noisy, long breath. "It's just, I knew there was a very good chance we were both feeling the same sort of thing. And yeah, I should have probably been braver and tried to say something, but I'm glad I didn't. I'm glad."

"Wow." The blows were just going to keep on coming, weren't they? Tony puffed out his cheeks briefly and moved his hands to his hips just to give himself something to do with them that didn't involve punching Steve in the face. "I'm sorry you were glad to dodge this bullet."

Steve looked annoyed. "That's not what I meant."

"Then be a little clearer. Because I gotta say, I'm still half-convinced you've been replaced by a pod person right now. Maybe try saying what you mean for once in your life."

"I knew," Steve said, slowly, "that if you knew our feelings for each other were mutual, that more than likely you'd offer to run away to Maine with me. And I was pretty sure you wouldn't really be thinking about what that meant, for Iron Man, and your company, and I didn't want you to have to compromise yourself like that, or regret it. I couldn't bear the idea of any of that."

Tony glared at him. Of all the presumptuous bullshit. Steve really thought that if he and Tony had been dating, if Tony had known Steve had feelings for him… (and what the absolute fuck was this new bunch of shit, that Steve had feelings for him? It couldn't be true, because if Steve loved him, would he really be wrecking Tony like this right now? Except it had to be true, because Steve was so freaking miserable about it)… Would Tony have insisted on running away with Steve?

Tony couldn't keep it all in his head without feeling like he was going to explode.

"So let me get this straight." Tony narrowed his eyes at Steve. "You realized I was in love with you, so when you found out you were responsible for a baby, you deliberately ran away without telling me, because you knew I'd demand to co-parent with you, and that would mean the world had Iron Man for less time, or my company might suffer?"

"Well, when you put it like that—"

"And so you preemptively decided it was better to break my heart and run away to the middle of nowhere so that I could keep being Iron Man and Tony freaking Stark without...being distracted?"

"It wasn't like I wasn't breaking my own heart too," Steve muttered. "And Maine isn't nowhere."

Tony stared at him and mouthed what the fuck.

"It's not like I could stay in New York," Steve defended. "What would my odds be, to keep her safe, the moment supervillains realized I had a child? She would instantly become a target." He shook his head. "I know you'd have done your best to keep her safe, but you can't protect her from every villain in the world."

Steve was right. You couldn't raise a baby in Manhattan as an Avenger. Not with all the various supervillains running around and causing havoc. It would only be a matter of time until one of them tried to steal Sarah in order to control Steve, or manipulate him. And the power Steve and Tony had at their fingers… That would be dangerous. And if Tony had known Steve loved him, yeah, Tony could see it. He could easily see himself wanting to move to Maine, to be with Steve, to help raise his child.

He didn't agree with Steve's earlier assessment – that Tony might regret doing it. And he hated the idea that Steve saw it as a compromise that he'd give up being Iron Man, or reduce his role with Stark Industries. Tony would give up being Iron Man in a heartbeat if it was the only way to keep Steve safe.

"The only way to keep her safe was to eject myself from the game," Steve said, firmly.

"And eject me from your life at the same time," Tony said, hollowly.

Steve's face creased. He was closer to Tony now. Tony had been so focused on stewing that he hadn't noticed Steve even move.

Steve put a hand on Tony's cheek, large and strong. "It was easier when I didn't know for sure how you felt."

"Yeah," Tony breathed. "I bet it was."

So, it was kind of a stalemate.

Steve wouldn't let Tony stay.

Steve also loudly refused to let Tony give up being Iron Man. When Tony protested, Steve promptly blackmailed him with Sarah's happiness, insisting Sarah would have to go into the foster system if Tony insisted on cutting Iron Man's hours at all, because Steve would have to be Captain America to compensate for it, and he couldn't raise a child and be a hero. And didn't Tony know how much the system fucked children up?

Ugh, Steve was right; Sarah was much too powerful leverage over either of them, if Steve could use her so successfully, just like that.

Tony tried to hang around anyway, but Steve just kept looking at him with sad eyes, and Sarah was crying, picking up on their tension, and Steve wouldn't budge.

Their love was real, and it was strong, and it meant damn-all in the face of Steve's baby.

It was, heartrendingly, exactly the way parenting was probably supposed to work.

Tony couldn't even hate Steve for it, because it was self-sacrificing, and noble, and pretty damn heroic.

Tony didn't kiss Steve goodbye when he left, because he figured it would be too difficult to leave if he did it again, and Tony had no other option left but to leave.

Tony did kiss Sarah's pink, wrinkled face on his way out the door, though. But he regretted it fiercely as he stepped away from Steve's dumb little two-story house and his pathetic little grass lawn and his beautiful baby girl nestled so sweetly against Steve's broad chest, because now he felt like he was abandoning both of them.

Tony would say he was miserable, but it felt like too weak a word for what he was feeling.

The solution, when it came, was nothing short of brilliant.

Tony tried to return to his daily normal life, fighting villains with the Avengers, fighting villains who infiltrated his factories, fighting villains in the street on his own, but he carried Steve and Sarah around with him as a constant ache.

It took just three more fights – two with exactly the same villains, who were defeated the exact same way each time – for Tony to come up with the plan.

It was amazing. Tony was a genius. Steve had shocked him a few times. And this time, Tony was going to shock Steve.

"You… unionized the villains," Steve said, flatly.

Tony shrugged. "All they needed was someone to boss them around. I'm good at that. It was getting so tiring, fighting the same battles. They never learned, y'know? Same old, same old. Now I have them in schools, they're learning. It's pretty great."

Steve stared at Tony. In the dim light of Steve's bland Maine sitting room, it did feel all feel a little unreal. But Steve had concerns, and Tony had erased most of them in one fell evil swoop.

"But you're—" Steve started, but then faltered, confused how to finish that sentence.

"A supervillain now?" Tony squinted, trying the label on for size in his head. "The supervillain, maybe. Sure. But crime worldwide is down by 20% already."

"Because you're implementing crime efficiency schemes," Steve hissed.

"What else was I supposed to do?" Tony folded his arms. "You didn't want to raise Sarah in a world where villains would steal your baby, so I...baby-proofed your house and your day job."

Ha. He was the King of Baby-Proofing. To say Tony was smug about it would be an understatement.

Steve stared at him. "Let me guess. I can reduce your own personal acts of vile villainy if I move back to New York with my daughter."

Tony raised his eyebrows. Steve was pretty damn smart, and especially – almost preternaturally – good at guessing what Tony was going to do next. But he hadn't seen this coming.

Tony grinned at Steve smugly. "You were so damn sure you knew me. Did I manage to surprise you yet?"

Steve inhaled and exhaled noisily like he had a headache. He probably did. Raising a child was hard work. "I suppose leaving you alone this much already has made you a supervillain, so obviously you need constant supervision."

Steve didn't sound as mad at him as Tony had expected he might.

In fact, he sounded kind of pleased.

Fatherhood was rumored to turn your brain to mush a little bit. Tony was glad to see it worked for all kinds of fathers, not just the blood-related ones. Maybe it would make his brain a little mushy too. He still hadn't quite yet announced his intention to co-parent Sarah, but once they were both safely in New York, it was only a matter of time. Steve had to know that. Tony held his breath as he waited to see what Steve did next. He should probably turn Tony into SHIELD, now he was the world's most infamous supervillain.

Steve got up from the couch and brushed his knees. "Guess I should start packing," he said.

Ha, baby brain for the win. "I'll help," Tony immediately offered.

Steve arched an eyebrow. "Won't that ruin your supervillain cred?"

"Pbbbt, no chance," Tony said. "I implemented a point-system for cleaning up our evil headquarters. They're so busy cleaning that place up that they barely have any time to think up evil schemes."

"There's probably something wrong with you," Steve said.

"But you love me anyway," Tony beamed.

Steve shuffled, but nodded jerkily, a pleasant pink flush creeping up his neck. Tony pressed his smile into Steve's matching grin and kissed him thoroughly.

"But I'm not changing her surname to Stark," Steve said, as he pulled back. Dammit, there was that uncanny predicting again.

Tony sighed. He probably shouldn't expect to win every battle, but perhaps she'd like to go into the family business one day, and Sarah Stark was the perfect kind of alliteration for that.

"You can stay in Maine if you really want," Tony sighed dramatically, "but as the Head Arch Supervillain of the New York division of the People's Adversary Network and International Council, PANIC for short, I will probably have to be distracted thoroughly in order to minimize my maniacal schemes for world domination."

Steve stared at him dubiously again.

Tony shrugged. He was only half-kidding at the world domination part, but he had baby-proofed a lot of Steve's life in the last few weeks, maybe he could baby-proof the whole world too—

Sarah started to cry, breaking Tony's chain of thought, and Steve's concentration. It was probably for the best.

Tony ended up holding Sarah while Steve packed up the house, rocking her while Steve picked up the essentials; she was loudly discontented at being away from Steve.

"I get it," Tony assured her. "I'm with you. Being away from Steve sucks." He hummed under his breath. She didn't settle until he started singing AC/DC. There was probably something wrong with Steve's baby, especially when she fell asleep to Tony singing about being on a doomed kind of road.

When Tony looked up, Steve was leaning on the doorjamb, looking down at them both fondly.

"You actually like her, don't you?" Steve asked, sitting down next to them, pulling Tony closer and pressing a kiss to Tony's cheek.

Tony grinned down at Sarah. "Guess I managed to baby-proof everything but myself," he admitted.