Tony Stark/Avengers ageplay

Chapter sixteen.

(Tony's P.O.V.)

I woke up earlier then I would've liked the next morning, but felt more refreshed then I think I've ever felt waking up.

I wondered why so I cracked my eyes open only to see bright red.

I blinked slowly and realized that my head was in the crook of Natasha's shoulder.

I gingerly shifted away but came with another problem, my legs were intertwined with, I'm guessing, Bruce's legs.

I was about to crawl out of bed, since I was feeling a lot bigger, but something in my mind didn't let me.

'I have to get work done' I argued with myself.

'No you don't, your ahead with all your projects.' My brain argued back.

'Yea, ahead, but not finished.' I stated.

'Just be little for today, then tonight get to work.' My brain said.

'Fine.'

After arguing with myself I tried to age myself back down, but no matter how hard I tried work and designs kept coming into my head. I tried harder but then some design flaws that I was trying to work out last night popped into my head.

My brain wouldn't just shut up, it was like a siren blaring into my thoughts.

I reached up and clutched my head for it to stop, but my hands were pulled away from me.

I cracked my eyes back open to see Natasha leaning over me, my hands in hers.

"Why are you crying baby boy? Bad dream?" She cooed down at me.

I was lost in her voice, normally it was steel cold but it seems whenever I'm little it changes from steel to silk.

I was so lost that it took me a minute to realize what she said, crying?

Then I felt a cold wetness of my face and my eyes slightly burning. I tried to take my hands back so I could wipe my eyes but she held them firmly.

But soon Bruce came back onto the bed with a tissue in his hand. He gently wiped at my eyes and cheeks with such care that it was hard to believe that he was a giant green rage monster inside of him.

"Hmm?" Natasha said.

Oh right she asked me a question.

I shook my head.

Her eyebrows drew together with confusion as she looked over me.

"Then what's wrong sweetheart?" She asked, letting go of my hands only to scoop me up and be put on her lap.

I didn't know what to tell her, that I didn't need to be little but I want to be? And that I can't seem to slip? No, they only agreed to this because I need it.

I guess I could play little, and maybe I'll slip while I'm acting.

I racked my brain for something I could blame for my crying.