Sometimes Steve regrets things. Not all that often, anymore, now that he’s more used to this century, but sometimes. As he surveys the insanity that the Avenger’s Tower living room has become, he thinks to himself yeah, this is one of those times. It is one of those times, which often coincide with the regret times, that he told Tony something he probably shouldn’t have.
“Yeah, I used to babysit sometimes, help out the moms in the neighborhood when I had a free afternoon,” he tells Tony when Tony asks warily if he knows anything about kids. Steve doesn’t think much of the question, instead reaching up high to get the plain cheerios (sugar cereal doesn’t sit well with Thor’s stomach).
“That was Jarvis,” Tony says casually, two aisles later. Steve nods, comparing the nutrition facts of two kinds of peanut butter. “Clint, Peter, Natasha, Bruce, Thor, and Loki have been turned into toddlers.” Steve nods again and then-
And now here he is, regretting he’d told Tony he knew how to change a diaper, and watching as Thor systematically braided Loki’s hair, Bruce muttered underneath a blanket fort, Peter giggled, hanging from the curtains, Clint threw things at Natasha, and Natasha attempted to beat him over the head with a small plastic bat.
He squared his shoulders, took a step into the room, and heaved a deep breath.
He was Captain America.
He could do this.
Clint started crying as the plastic bat hit his eye, Natasha’s lower lip wobbled at the sight of the tiny archer’s tears, Bruce began turning green at the noise, and Peter was about to fall off the top of the TV armoire.
Okay, maybe not.