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Steve walks into the kitchen and immediately freezes. The rest of the Avengers team, minus Tony, sit around the dining room table - a rare sight when Steve comes back from his morning run.
“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, spine straightening.
“Sit down,” Natasha says with a sigh, kicking one of the remaining chairs out for Steve. She’s hunched over the table, curled over her tea and clutching the cup tightly. She’s not a morning person unless she’s on mission, which means this situation could be dire. “This is an intervention.”
“What?” Steve questions as he slowly takes a seat. No one else appears alarmed or panicked though, just tired, and Steve’s shoulders drop.
“It’s about Tony,” Natasha starts.
“What about Tony?” Steve asks, panic once again flooding his system.
Natasha waves his alarm away.
Clint groans. “He needs to stop. Make him stop.”
Steve’s mouth drops open, then he closes it. He sits back in his chair, crossing his arms and blushing. “Is this about - ”
“The cleaning! The reorganizing!” Clint interrupts, hands waving in the air. Then he grabs the bowl in front of him and shows Steve how empty it is. “I haven’t been able to find my cereal for four days in a row!”
Steve clears his throat. “Well, to be fair, if you didn’t leave it -”
“He cleaned my lab, Steve,” Bruce interrupts, voice deadpan. “My. Lab.”
“Oh,” Steve says, ducking his head and rubbing his neck. “Um… have you tried talking to Tony?” he offers weakly.
“You got him pregnant,” Natasha says, and Steve gulps. It’s true, but Natasha’s delivery makes him feel like that statement is a threat. “You fix it.”
Natasha and the rest of the team’s glares has Steve nodding. “I’ll fix it,” he promises.
Later that morning, Steve finds Tony eyeing Steve’s art supplies with a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Sweetheart,” Steve greets as he hurries over. He wraps an arm around Tony’s waist and pulls Tony closer, blocking Tony’s view of the pile of pencils and paper on Steve’s desk. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Tony returns with a smile. “I had a thought, about your papers, and that I know you have the different types that you like for drawing on and I was thinking -”
“I’m very happy with how I currently have my papers,” Steve interrupts quickly. When Tony frowns, Steve ducks and kisses the corner of Tony’s lips. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about… this.”
“Exactly - your desk is a nightmare. You don’t have a filing system. You should’ve asked for my help earlier.”
“I - no, Tony,” Steve sighs, leaning his forehead against Tony’s. “You can’t just reorganize our stuff because you want to. It’s ours to keep how we want.”
“Our stuff? What, did Bruce say something to you? Because that man knows better than to keep his chemicals out of order, okay, I know I keep OSHA off his back but there are still safety rules, Steve…!”
“You shouldn’t reorganize Bruce’s lab without his permission,” Steve says fondly.
“I’m hormonal, Steve. I have urges!” Tony whines.
Steve’s hands drift down to settle on Tony’s thickening waist. Tony has only begun to show within the past two weeks - the hormonal stages, Steve suspects, have yet to really start - but feeling the changes of Tony’s body and knowing what’s causing the changes never fail to make Steve’s heart ache. Even this larger body is too small to contain all the love and emotion that Steve wants to transfer right to Tony and right to that child growing inside.
Tony is carrying a child, their child, and Steve hopes he never gets over the awe of that thought.
“You can organize my stuff,” Steve gives up easily in the face of Tony’s pout, “and your stuff, but any more reorganizing of Avengers’ things needs to be approved by the team.”
“But I need everything ready for the baby...”
Steve tilts Tony’s head up and kisses his husband, his mate, his co-leader and carrier of his child.
“We’ll be ready. Just stop needling the team, or no one else will fetch you ice cream at two a.m. if I’m not around,” Steve warns with a smile.
“You better be around,” Tony threatens. “You’re going to be around to fetch me ice cream and rub my swollen feet and tell me that I’m still beautiful even when I balloon like a whale.”
Steve rubs his hand against Tony’s stomach, looking forward to the day that he’ll feel something kick back.
“I love you,” Steve says with a grin, “but I can’t rub your feet and fetch you ice cream at the same time. So stop messing with the team.”
“Fine,” Tony sighs.
“What did you do with Clint’s cereal, anyway? He still can’t find it.”
“With the rest of the bird food that Nat keeps for the feeders outside. What, she didn’t tell him?”