“Tony loves Steve,” Clint chanted in a sing-song voice as he ambled into the kitchen. He was dressed and wide-awake at six in the morning which meant he’d been up all night playing video games and was going to pass out as soon as he’d stuffed his face. Peter staggered in behind him, looking rumpled and nearly catatonic before nearly collapsing into the chair across from Bruce’s and laying his head down on the table which meant he’d let himself get talked into staying up all night playing video games with Clint.
Bruce pulled his plate closer to his chest and narrowed his eyes in warning.
Clint, as per usual, seemed unperturbed by the inherent threat of pissing him off and snatched a piece of toast off his place. “Tony and Steeeeeeve, sitting in a tree,” he sang, managing not to spew crumbs everywhere as he chewed. “F-U-C-K-I-N-G.”
“Make your own breakfast,” Bruce told him.
“First comes looooooove-”
“What is he doing?” Tony stood in the doorway, scowling fiercely at the empty coffeepot. His hair was sticking up like one of those troll dolls from the nineties and he was wearing a pair of silk pajama pants and one of Steve’s old Boston Marathon t-shirts. “Is he singing? Why is Clint singing before coffee? I thought we made a rule.”
Clint poured most of a box of Lucky Charms into a truly enormous bowl. “Then comes marriage-”
“Who is Clint marrying off in song and story?” Steve paused in the doorway long enough to drop a kiss on Tony’s head then stared digging through the fridge.
“You,” Clint said cheerfully. He reached around Steve for the container of chocolate milk and poured it liberally over his cereal. “I can’t figure out who’s in the baby carriage.”
Steve and Tony exchanged a glance and Bruce hid a grin behind his remaining piece of toast. “Peter,” they chorused in dual monotones.
“You guys all suck,” Peter mumbled into the table.
Clint clapped him on the back so hard he almost knocked him out of his chair. “Relax, Spider-Wimp, carriage comes after marriage and Mom and Dad are still living in sin.”
Steve put two sesame bagels in the toaster oven and handed Tony a glass of orange juice. “Marriage sounds good,” he said.
Bruce blinked. Clint paused with a heaping spoonful of cereal halfway to his open mouth. Peter picked his head up off the table.
Tony hummed as he drained the glass and handed it back. “Well, if the living in sin thing is bothering the kids.”
Steve took the glass and leaned in for a kiss. “Mmm. Tart. I’d want a priest.”
“I don’t have anything against priests.” Tony licked his lips. “I get to pick the honeymoon.”
The toaster dinged and Steve set the bagels on a couple of plates, handing one to Tony. “As long as you actually take time off from work, I don’t want to spend my honeymoon competing with your cell phone.”
“Deal.” Tony grabbed the cream cheese out of the fridge. “What are you thinking? Next summer?”
“Autumn,” Steve said. He hooked his foot around a kitchen chair and pulled it out from the table. “Autumn is a good time for an outdoor ceremony.”
“I’ll call Pepper after breakfast and we’ll figure out the best time for me to be gone for a few weeks.” Tony poured two more glasses of OJ and set them down as he took the seat next to Steve’s. “I’m not adopting Peter though.”
“I am an adult,” Peter said, his voice rising with each word.
“What just happened?” Clint asked Bruce, the chocolate milk from his cereal dripping on his pants. “Did I do that?”
“I think you did,” Bruce said. He slid his napkin across the table.
“I want an amazing ring,” Tony said. He had his head on Steve’s shoulder and his eyes were drifting shut, his bagel untouched on its plate. “Huge. It has to be prettier than Pepper’s. I want to blind the paparazzi with it.”
Steve kissed the top of his head. “Eat your bagel and we’ll talk.”
Clint heaved a heavy sigh and shoved his cereal in his mouth. “Who are we kidding, you’re already married.”
“Well, we have been together for six years,” Steve said.
Bruce drained his tea and gathered his plate. “Just imagine. A honeymoon period six years in the making. And we have Clint to thank for it.”
Steve smirked. Peter whined at the table. Clint dropped his spoon and leaned around Peter to jab a finger in Steve’s face. “Oh no. No no no. Not again. Not an actual honeymoon. I’m not taking the fall for that. I quit. I’m joining the X-Men.”
“I already told Jan it was your idea,” Tony mumbled against Steve’s shoulder. He held up one hand to show his cell phone.
“Oh my god.” Clint stared at his cereal.
“This is why we have a rule against Clint singing before cereal,” Steve said.