Archive of Our Own ^beta

He wasn’t surprised to know that your family wore matching pyjamas for Christmas. When he was a kid at home, his own family had their own set, and he had even spent some time growing into his own onesie when he was a teen, not wanting to ask his parents for something that fit him better - these days, though, he was a tad too big for them. Personally, he expected it to be something conventional, but considering your family wasn’t that conventional, he shouldn’t be surprised he was met with not one, but two silk pyjama sets. There were pants and a long sleeved shirt for cold nights - and probably this night - and a sleeveless shirt and shorts, probably for summer, both in deep green and red. Very Christmas-ish.

“No long sleeves for you?” he asked, realising you were picking up a thin-strapped top.

You shook your head, putting on your bralette.

“The back,” you reminded him. “It’s… weird.”

He frowned a little.

“Weird?” he asked.

You stopped, pouting a little as you thought about your words.

“It’s warm,” you told him, at last. “In the bad way. The texture way.”

He nodded along, resigning to not quite understanding the feeling.

“Okay.”

You smiled a little and put on your panties and pants, and he pulled you close when you walked to his side, where you had left your robe.

“So soft,” he hummed, holding you close, and kissed your stomach gently over the fabric. “You should wear silk more often.”

You giggled a little, putting your hands on his shoulders.

“I’ll be sure to get some silk stuff,” you brushed his hair with your fingers. “You want to fuck me in silk?”

He let out a mixture of a snort and a laugh.

“Under your parents’ roof?” he asked, blushing a little. “No, I don’t think so.”

You laughed, sitting on his lap, straddling him.

“Are you afraid of Happy and Jarvis hearing us from across the hall?” you teased him, kissing his jaw.

Steve hummed along, enjoying the sensual affection, but not the image in his head.

“Please, don’t make me imagine that,” he closed his eyes.

You giggled.

“I’ll let you know, Mister Rogers,” you moved back, raising your chin. “That my room is soundproof. The whole house is.”

He raised his eyebrows, a little surprised.

“Really?” he asked.

“I can have a band recording rock music here and no one would hear anything as long as the door was closed,” you assured him.

Steve chuckled, holding your hips and rubbing his nose on yours, teasing your lips with a not-kiss.

"Why would you want to have a rock band recording here?" he teased you. "I can think of a lot of things that are way more entertaining to do on this bed."

You giggled, pecking his lips.

“After Christmas Eve,” you told him. “We can test how soundproof the walls are.”

He chuckled, relaxing in your arms., and you pecked his lips.

“Alright,” you sighed, stepping back. “Time to go down, come on.”

You wrapped your robe around yourself and put on your slippers, waiting for him to follow along before opening the door, and you two walked down to the living room, where everyone already was waiting, and you were all quick to start eating.

There was no turkey or ham or anything conventional. No. You were eating seafood and sushi.

Very good seafood and sushi, but it was different anyway.

“Seafood?” he asked you just as you two ate a shared plate of sashimi, with you holding it while seated right on your lap.

You chewed your bit, offering him one too, and he ate along.

Any food you ever introduced to him was so damn good.

“Christmas means seafood,” you told him, shrugging. “It’s our little tradition.”

“Always?” he asked.

“You wanna hear the story about that?” your father offered.

He looked over at him, and your parents were seated together the same way you two were, and your mother was drinking something from a big mug - which was a little weird, cause there weren’t any soups around - as your father rested a plate of sushi over her thighs.

“Yes, sir,” he confirmed, and you shifted to his other side, so you could look at him.

You rested your head on his shoulder, and Tony exchanged a little look with your mother.

“I was 20 when I had Y/N, I think you know that,” he offered, and Steve nodded.

Yes, he knew he had been a relatively young parent.

“Well, her first Christmas was very normal,” he explained. “But when she was a little over one and I was 21, I lost my parents.”

Pepper kissed his temple affectionately in a bit of comfort.

“I always had Y/N for Christmas, it was my agreement with…” he stopped himself, looking a you, and pressed his lips together for a second before continuing. “Well, it was the agreement back then. Christmas was mine.”

You moved a little on Steve’s lap, looking uncomfortable, and he caressed your knee gently. Your biological mother was a very sore subject.

“So the day came, and… well, we had gifts for her, Happy had sent her gifts, all of the friends of the family had, and Jarvis was staying with us for a bit like he has since… forever, I guess,” he continued.

On the couch in front of the two of you, Jarvis reaised a glass of scotch in confirmation and agreement.

"And I didn’t have anything up," your father told him. "No tree, no decorations… especially no Christmas food."

Jarvis chuckled.

“He bought sushi. For a baby!” he pointed in your direction.

The room erupted in little laughs, and Steve squeezed you close. While imaginig you enjoyed sushi since you were little wasn’t surprising, maybe he didn’t quite imagine a toddler of just over a full year of age eating it.

“I was careful,” your father argued. “And she liked it. It’s her favourite food.”

Steve looked at you, and you shrugged.

“It has always been my favourite food,” you confirmed. “You’re gonna have to pry it from my hands if I’m ever pregnant.”

He chuckled. Well, the two of you were still in the talks about that.

“So the next year I did again,” Tony continued. “And then the next year. And by the time Pepper came around, it was already a family thing. A Stark tradition, if I may.”

“It’s also a Stark tradition to have all Stark couples all over one another during Christmas,” Happy remarked, walking to the food table to get himself food too. “And I see you are already getting used to that, Rogers.”

Steve flushed a little and you just giggled, kissing his cheek.

“You are an honorary Stark,” you teased him.

“Don’t forget the day you gave her wasabi by accident,” Jarvis added, and Steve turned to him, surprised.

You laughed, and your father blushed.

“It was once,” he tried to defend himself.

“She was three!” Jarvis argued. “It took her a whole week to trust him to feed her again.”

You giggled more, and your godfather shook his head.

“I’m sure we have pictures of that day. When she finally stopped crying, Y/N spent the rest of the night shoving food into her mouth with her hands, she was a mess.”

When Steve turned back to you, you were just eating a piece with your bare hands just as well, and rolled your eyes.

“I’m not messy anymore,” you reminded him.

Steve laughed and raised his body to reach your face, kissing your cheeks all over.

"Yes, you are, honey," your mother corrected you. "I've seen your workspace. You are the only one who understands whatever order that has."

"Mum!" you whined.

Steve chuckled.

"Try her house," he spread kisses in your cheek. "I don't know how she finds things there."

Your mother shook her head.

"It's the Stark ADHD gene," she told him. "Get used to it. We have to work around their systems and not the reverse."

"It's a good system," your father insisted. "Things are where you are going to use them."

"And if you take them out of there..." you tried to add.

"You forget!" he finished your sentence along with your mother.

Everyone laughed, even you and Tony - though you were both shaking your heads - and Happy sat down on the couch with Jarvis.

“No, no,” your father raised a hand. “You all don’t get to mock us! Especially when I, the daddy, got all the presents.”

Pepper scoffed.

“No, you didn’t,” she corrected him. “I picked them, and you said ‘yes, dear’.”

“Which is basically the same,” he shrugged. “Come on, let’s get to the gifts. Who wants to start?”

“Oh, stop that,” Pepper stood up. “Everyone, go get everything. Pink is from me, red with robots is from Tony, Steve is blue, Jarvis is yellow, and… Y/N and Happy, remind me?”

“Black with the rainbows,” you stood up.

“The same package it came when Amazon delivered to my house,” Happy said simply.

You chuckled and Steve did the same, just reaching for the presents, and he checked the labels, passion yours along to you and taking what was supposedly his.

“Here,” you passed him a yellow gift.

Steve opened them one by one. Jarvis got him a hydro flask, Happy bought him a S’mores roaster, you got him a new leather wallet - which looked very sophisticated, and was very useful as he kept forgetting to replace his actual wallet, and it was pretty much falling apart - and Pepper got him a bottle of wine.

“It’s a Château Corton Grancey,” she told him. “Y/N said you like your red on the acidic side.”

He blinked a little, nodding. Those were… a lot of words for wine.

“Thank you,” he smiled at her.

“Alright, thank her later,” Tony interrupted him. “Get mine now. I’ve been waiting for you to open it since we started opening the gifts.”

Steve shook his head, but picked the small box, and you sat by his side, waiting as Happy got up to his feet.

“What is that?” you turned to your father.

“Let him open it, sweetheart,” Tony waved a hand. “We all got the chance of being surprised. Let Steve have his own too.”

The room fell into a little bit of silence as he opened his gift, and Steve frowned at the branded box.

“Is this…” he mumbled.

He opened the box and his eyes widened.

Fuck. No.

“Is this a Rolex?”

Your father was giving him a Rolex?!

“Welcome to the family, pal,” he patted him on the shoulder. “Merry Christmas.”

Steve opened and closed his mouth.

A Rolex?!

“This is-” he stuttered, turning to your father. “I… I can’t-”

“You can,” Tony interrupted him. “And I’m glad you liked it.”

He opened and closed his mouth, and you squeezed his hand.

“It’s a Rolex,” he hissed.

And a very beautiful Rolex too.

But a fucking Rolex?! It was so much money for a single watch, and he didn’t even know where he could wear that.

“Thank you,” he looked at him, not knowing what else to say. “Thank you very much. I’ll… I’ll wear when I find the opportunity.”

That was probably the biggest gift he had ever gotten in his life.

“Hey, what is this,” Happy asked, bringing the packed painting to them.

Oh. Your gift.

He had forgotten your gift.

Steve turned to you quickly.

“It’s your Christmas gift,” he told you. “I… uh… I made it.”

Your face softened slowly and was completely unreadable as you stared at him.

“You made it?” you asked.

Steve nodded, and stood up, taking the painting from Happy, looking at you nervously.

What if you hated it?

What if it sucked?

Maybe-

“Open it,” your father told you. “Go on, honey. Lets us see it.”

You stood up, looking at Steve with hesitant eyes before moving your hands to rip the paper, and he lied the box down, so you could open it safely.

You opened the box and took off the protective layer, and your shoulder fell.

It was a painting inspired by the picture he took of you on your bed, with a different back, with you laying on a garden of flowers, with your curls spread under you and a happy look on your face, the little smile on your lips just big enough to show it.

“It’s beautiful,” your father exclaimed. “Steve, you made this? I didn’t know you were so talented.”

“It’s gorgeous,” your mother put her hand over her lips.

He had seen that look on your face many times. It was a mixture of peace and bliss. The look you gave him when you were comfortable together, cuddling after a long day or just eaten. He had seen it when you sat on his lap just minutes ago, eating with your family and just being all together.

“Y/N,” he turned to you. “What do you think?”

Your lips trembled, and Steve’s eyes widened when you started crying in your spot straight-up sobbing, and he was quick to move to you.

“Sweetheart,” he reached for you.

You grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight, and moved your mouth, trying to babble.

“Steve,” you gasped.

He watched your face, and you just grabbed him, squeezing him close, hugging him and sobbing into his shirt.

Your mother reached for you, rubbing your back gently.

“Y/N?” he asked.

You sobbed more into his neck, and Steve waited, looking at your face when you pulled away, sniffing and shaking a little.

He turned to your side when Happy came to you, and you took the glass of water from his hand, drinking it.

He watched your face, and he squeezed your hand as you did, and you turned to him.

“All that I’ve ever wanted,” you looked at your face, face still covered in tears as they streamed down your cheeks. “In my whole life was to be loved by someone who didn’t have to love me.”

Steve felt his heart swelling in his chest, tearing up just as well, and reached for your face, drying your tears, and you took his hand, kissing his palm.

“Steve, I never thought I could be this happy,” you sniffed.

He rested his forehead on yours and you put your hands on his face, cradling his jaw.

“I love you,” you told him. “I love you so much.”

Steve gave your lips a gentle peck.

“I know,” he assured you. “You show it to me every day.”

You cried a little more, and he rubbed his nose on yours.

“I love you,” he affirmed. “So much.”

“I know,” you kissed his palm. “I know.”

Steve caressed your cheeks, feeling more than embraced by your reaction.

Maybe you weren’t exactly a woman of words - you spent all your letters with your calculations - but he certainly knew he could count on you.

Whatever happened, he knew he would be safe and happy, and that he would have you.