tiny times [ avengers age regression ]

jealousy

[ lol this is really long ]

[ in which clint isn't used to being anything but the baby ]

Tony wailed from his crib, his piercing cries cutting through the static of the baby monitor. Steve jolted from his own slumber, his fatherly instincts kicking in before his mobility could catch up. Steve's eyes snapped open wide, and he threw his light grey covers off his pajama clad body. Stumbling to his feet, the captain checked which monitor the heart wrenching cries were echoing from, slipping and sliding on the wooden floors as he rushed to get to his younger littles' room.

Steve opened the decorated door, pushing himself into the purple and red room. It was very obvious which side was who's, as almost everything on one side was purple, and almost everything on the other side was red or yellow. Steve rushed to his baby's crib, unfastening the latch keeping the crib wall upright. The red bars slid downwards, and Steve was quick to collect the crying little into his arms.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong, spark plug?" the caregiver cooed soothingly, rubbing up and down the boy's back through the fabric of his red and white car pajamas. Tony cried unhappily, fisting his hands into Steve's dark blue shirt. "You're usually not this fussy."

Steve slipped a hand underneath the boy's pants, slipping a finger in to check his diaper. It was wet, another sign that something wasn't right with the little. He wasn't usually a night wetter, and he'd babble into the baby monitor if he needed the potty. Steve frowned and brought his hand back up to Tony's face, feeling around on his forehead for a temperature. Steve sighed, wiping the sweat droplets off his baby's face.

"Aw, poor thing. You feel very icky, huh, baby?" Steve spoke lowly. He received a pitiful whine from Tony, who didn't understand anything other than that he felt awful. "It looks like you're gonna be my itty bitty sicky baby today, Tony."

Steve bounced the boy sympathetically, trying to calm his upset cries. The caregiver looked at the digital clock mounted on the wall, sighing as he read the time. 4:05 a.m. It was going to be a long day.

At another particularly loud cry, Steve shushed Tony and moved to the changing table, carefully laying the fussing baby down. Steve pulled out a clean diaper and powder, tugging down the boy's pants and disposing of the old diaper. He disregarded the idea of giving Tony a pacifier, knowing he'd only spit it out when this upset. Steve wiped his bottom off carefully, powdering his bum and strapping the new, clean diaper up gently. He redressed the boy in a pair of shorts, figuring he'd be too hot in the fluffy pajama pants. Steve left the same shirt on purposely, hoping to keep some warmth on him to prevent his baby from getting sicker.

Rummaging further through the drawers, Steve pulled out a thermometer and the bottle of tasteless cold medicine from the stash of sickness supplies, hearing a snotty sniffle and a sneeze from the still slightly crying boy. Tony calmed down quite a bit, but he still wasn't happy, as he sadly tried to breathe through his overly congested nose and clogged up throat.

Taking the thermometer out of its protective casing, Steve carefully lifted the bottom of his baby's shirt, making sure it was set up correctly before placing it under his arm, holding Tony's arm secure so it would get an adequate reading. Steve apologized profusely when Tony whined, uncomfortable with Steve's cold hands against his feverish skin. After a few moments, the thermometer beeped, and Steve removed it from Tony's arm to look at the reading. He frowned, reading 102 degrees.

Steve sighed, picking his boy back up. "Baby, how about we get a cool bath? Your temperature is very high, and it might help you feel less sticky."

Tony only whined at the offer, but he solemnly nodded his head after a while. Steve brushed the sweaty, brown hair from his eyes and pecked his forehead, picking the sick little up and trudging him into the connected bathroom. He mentally slapped himself for already dressing the boy, as he should've thought of a bath sooner.