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Literature Text
Baby Peter sat in his little cradle. He knew whenever he tried to speak, they wouldn't understand him. They never understood him. Why couldn't they understand him? Peter stared through the skinny wooden bars, staring into the pale darkness of his bedroom. The world around him seemed dead silent, but he knew it wouldn't last forever. So, there he sat… Waiting.
Finally, the first stomps sounded from the room next to his, followed by a door slamming. Peter glanced up, blinking with his paci sticking out from his mouth. He pushed himself onto his wobbling feet, catching onto the bars to keep him steady as he listened.
"Tony, what the hell is your problem?" the toddler heard his poppa shout angrily. "You could have died!"
"Oh, lay off! I did what I had to do!" came his dad's retort. Peter's poppa sounded really upset after that sentence.
"And what about Peter?" he snapped. "Do you want him to grow up without you?"
Peter didn't like this. He didn't like how their voices sounded. He didn't like how angry and annoyed with each other they were. Poppa and Daddy were supposed to be smiling and laughing all the time. They were supposed to be holding him and playing with him and cuddling and not fighting. Peter didn't like this. He let out a soft whine as he plopped down onto his rear. He glanced over his shoulder, his big brown eyes glistening as tears started to form. He let out another whimper, but something at the edge of his cradle caught his attention. Peter crawled on his knees and hands, spotting his Iron Man and Captain America plushies Uncle Clint and Aunt Natasha had given him. He let out a soft cry while reaching out and grabbing them. He sniffled, leaning with his back against the bars and hugging the plushies to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Wahh!" he cried, pushing his cheeks against the dolls' heads, tears slipping down his smooth cheeks. The shouting almost immediately stopped, and silence fell as quick footsteps headed towards Peter's room, following with the door opening and two heads poking in.
"Peter?" Pops whispered, entering the room and spotting his child with his back to him. "Oh, Peter, sweetie… What's wrong?"
Dad followed his husband, standing beside him and peering down at their son. The toddler looked up at them, tears still full in his eyes as he let out a whimper, looking from father to father. Dad suddenly smiled sadly, reaching out and picking up Peter.
"Oh, kiddo, it was just a little fight," he assured, wrapping his arms around the baby in a comforting hug. Poppa smiled and reached out, gently taking Peter into his arms.
"Don't worry, Petey, we won't fight again. We promise," he soothed, pulling him close while Tony leaned in to join the family embrace.
Peter let out a hiccup, his tears finally ending as he smiled softly at his parents. This is what he liked. Hugging. Cuddling. Happy togetherness. Not fighting. Dad grinned.
"Now what do you think about sleeping with Pops and I tonight, huh?" he suggested.
Peter let out a cheerful squeak, and Pops chuckled. The three left Peter's Nursery, and traveled down the hall to all cuddle up in Dad's giant bed. This is what Peter liked. Together… and not alone.
Finally, the first stomps sounded from the room next to his, followed by a door slamming. Peter glanced up, blinking with his paci sticking out from his mouth. He pushed himself onto his wobbling feet, catching onto the bars to keep him steady as he listened.
"Tony, what the hell is your problem?" the toddler heard his poppa shout angrily. "You could have died!"
"Oh, lay off! I did what I had to do!" came his dad's retort. Peter's poppa sounded really upset after that sentence.
"And what about Peter?" he snapped. "Do you want him to grow up without you?"
Peter didn't like this. He didn't like how their voices sounded. He didn't like how angry and annoyed with each other they were. Poppa and Daddy were supposed to be smiling and laughing all the time. They were supposed to be holding him and playing with him and cuddling and not fighting. Peter didn't like this. He let out a soft whine as he plopped down onto his rear. He glanced over his shoulder, his big brown eyes glistening as tears started to form. He let out another whimper, but something at the edge of his cradle caught his attention. Peter crawled on his knees and hands, spotting his Iron Man and Captain America plushies Uncle Clint and Aunt Natasha had given him. He let out a soft cry while reaching out and grabbing them. He sniffled, leaning with his back against the bars and hugging the plushies to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Wahh!" he cried, pushing his cheeks against the dolls' heads, tears slipping down his smooth cheeks. The shouting almost immediately stopped, and silence fell as quick footsteps headed towards Peter's room, following with the door opening and two heads poking in.
"Peter?" Pops whispered, entering the room and spotting his child with his back to him. "Oh, Peter, sweetie… What's wrong?"
Dad followed his husband, standing beside him and peering down at their son. The toddler looked up at them, tears still full in his eyes as he let out a whimper, looking from father to father. Dad suddenly smiled sadly, reaching out and picking up Peter.
"Oh, kiddo, it was just a little fight," he assured, wrapping his arms around the baby in a comforting hug. Poppa smiled and reached out, gently taking Peter into his arms.
"Don't worry, Petey, we won't fight again. We promise," he soothed, pulling him close while Tony leaned in to join the family embrace.
Peter let out a hiccup, his tears finally ending as he smiled softly at his parents. This is what he liked. Hugging. Cuddling. Happy togetherness. Not fighting. Dad grinned.
"Now what do you think about sleeping with Pops and I tonight, huh?" he suggested.
Peter let out a cheerful squeak, and Pops chuckled. The three left Peter's Nursery, and traveled down the hall to all cuddle up in Dad's giant bed. This is what Peter liked. Together… and not alone.
Literature
Proposal
"Daddy, why aren't you and Papa married?"
That was a good question, wasn't it? One answer that popped in Tony's mind was that he never though about getting married. But well, he never thought he'd be living with Captain America or that he would adopt a child. A few years ago if someone said that one day there would be a small 6 year-old boy in his garage watching him work, Tony would laugh so hard he'd probably fall into a coma.
"I don't know, Peter."
"Do you want to marry him?"
Tony stopped to think. Did he want to marry Steve? He already woke up next to him every morning, they took Peter to school together, had meals together, cleaned t
Literature
And so Clint tells everyone
"Tony, stop!" Steve giggled. "This is not the place to-"
"Aww come on, Steve, it's not like we're about to have sex, just a little make out session won't hurt." Tony replied before kissing Steve's jaw. "Unless you want sex, we can totally-"
"Oh. My. God."
Both men turned their heads to the door when they heard Clint's voice. So maybe Steve was right, making out at SHIELD headquarters was really not a good idea. Barton turned around and left without a single word to look for Natasha.
"As I was saying-" Tony tried, but was cut off when Steve shook his head with an apologetic look plastered on his face, meaning that the mood was killed. Tony
Literature
In which Peter sneezes
"Steve!" Tony yelled from upstairs. It was Steve's turn to do the dishes - and it really was this time, not just Tony ditching on his domestic duties - and he was just finished, so he ran to their room. "Peter sneezed!" Tony said, wiping the 3 year old's nose.
Steve frowned and approached them, kneeling in front of the bed they were both sitting in. He put his hand Peter's forehead to check his temperature.
"He doesn't seem to have a fever."
"Are you sure?" Tony asked frantically. "Maybe he caught something when we went to the park earlier. We should go to a hospital just to make sure."
"Tony, relax! We're not going to take our son to a h
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This is so precious great work bringing it to life!