A piece of paper threatened to slide off the makeshift table formed by Tony's thighs, currently draped over Steve's lap. Steve caught the errant page and settled it a bit more securely on its proper pile. "Stop squirming," Steve chided, eyes still focused on the training roster he was trying to put together.
"There is a coffee table right in front of you, you know," Tony said. Paper rustled as he turned a page in the journal he was reading.
To use the table, Steve would have to remove Tony's legs from his lap. "Hunching over that coffee table would hurt my back."
"Sure it would." Steve looked up to see Tony smirking at him over the top of the journal he was reading.
Steve grinned back at him and turned his attention back to the roster. "This is ridiculous," he said after a moment, absently running a hand down Tony's calf. "I swear we've never had a team this hard to schedule before. Peter works full time, Jessica works extremely irregular hours, Logan spends more than half his time out in Westchester, and Luke is impossible to contact. If he forgets his communicator at home one more time, I'm going to pin it to his shirt."
"You did not just say that."
"Say what?" Steve said, looking up.
Tony was staring at him. "'Pin it to his shirt.' Mothers pin mittens to their children's shirts, Steve."
Steve could feel his face heating up a bit. "It's just an expression."
"It's a motherly expression."
"I feel responsible for them," Steve admitted. "I was the one who pushed for this team."
"Hey." Tony bounced his leg a little, as if to get Steve's attention, for all that he already had it. Papers fluttered to the floor. "You were right. We're needed." He grinned. "Mom."
Steve raised his eyebrows, hand sliding up Tony's calf and around to stroke the back of his knee. "Tony, there is no way you're one of the kids in this scenario."
Tony squirmed as Steve's fingers drifted lightly over the back of his knee, dislodging more papers. He would never admit he was ticklish, but Steve knew better. "Oh, good." He squirmed a little more. "Are you done with that?" he asked hopefully.
Steve chuckled and took his hand away from Tony's leg, leaning over to retrieve the lost papers instead. "Not yet. Give me an hour."
"Yes, dear," Tony said, his tone faintly mocking.
Steve smiled to himself.