Steve, you know that I don't ask you for much. So when I ask you to help me now, you know that it's important right?

Please don't let her leave.

I can be better. I will be better. Make her believe it, Steve. I know you can because she trusts you, and she loves you. I don't think I have that luxury with her anymore.

I don't need to be her dad if that's not what she wants. I just want to be friends again, honestly. Tell her that for me. Please don't let her leave.

Steve, if she runs from me again, I'll never see her.

~~~

"That's not really your color," Clint smirked, watching Natasha study herself in the long mirror as she tried on her bridesmaid dress for its final fitting. "I think it's the red hair. Or maybe it's that sour look on your face."

"The color's fine, it's what she wants and I think it's pretty. I'm just a little uncomfortable, that's all."

"Bullshit," he coughed into his hand, looking up at her just as she stepped off the platform to slap his arm with a resounding snap that was sure to leave a bright handprint behind. "Hey, ow! What? You don't think that I can tell when you're lying?"

"You can't."

"Try me."

She leaned in close and rested her hands on either side of his chair, raising an eyebrow with a look of arrogance and satisfaction at what she had already done. "Your ass looks great in the suit that Steve picked for you guys."

"Too far, Romanoff. Too far."

"Aw, I'm sorry. Don't pout." Natasha leaned in further to give him a kiss, turning to seat herself on his lap when you entered the room, looking even more uncomfortable than she had been only moments before. They both turned to watch you step up on the platform in front of the group of mirrors, Nat standing to join you when she heard you mumbling to yourself.

"It's beautiful, (Y/N). How does it fit?"

"I look like a crème puff."

"You do not!" She turned her head quickly to Clint with a pleading look, needing his support.

"I'd take a bite outta that."

"Not helping, Barton!"

"Guys," you sighed, still staring at your reflection and barely hearing what they had said while in your trance, "I'm thinking about quitting."

The duo had quickly turned serious, with Clint jumping from his chair to stand at your other side, as if the two of them were trapping you into place. "That's ridiculous. You stop thinking about it right now, you hear me?"

"Clint..."

"No, Nat, I won't back down. I've played the voice of reason with her before and I'll do it again." He took your arm with a shake, jolting you into attention, "(Y/N), you're marrying Steve in like...days. Why would you possibly be thinking about quitting?"

"We don't have to live with the team. He can still be a part of it. I don't know if I can."

"Did something happen?" Natasha asked quietly, in sharp contrast to her counterpart. "Was it something that happened when you were gone with Thor?"

"No, nothing like that. Thor took care of me, like I told you guys. It's just that since my accident, I feel like I'm under constant watch and being treated like I'm breakable, when I think I've proven pretty well that I'm not." You looked down at Clint to accentuate your point, knowing that of all people, he had seen it first-hand.

"You're...no, you're not," Clint agreed reluctantly, "but you have to understand how Steve and Tony might be a bit hesitant to just let you go. You got hurt on your very first mission back, (Y/N)."

"I knew what I was doing. I knew the risk."

"You think that makes it any better?" he chuckled, though there was no humor in its tone. "Listen, I know that I've played this card before, but you were dead for a while, if you recall. Dead, (Y/N). You didn't see them. You didn't see them working together to keep you going in the back of that jet, screaming at me to fly faster. You didn't see Steve sitting on the floor outside of your room in shock, waiting to hear if you were gonna make it or not. You didn't see Nat practically carrying Tony out of the hangar bay when his legs wouldn't carry him." His voice was rising with each sentence, his own emotions beginning to wash over him as he remembered. "So please, don't tell me that you knew what you were doing, because you obviously didn't. You need to think beyond yourself, (Y/N), and I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, but hey, that's life, sweetheart." Clint spun on his heel and returned to his chair, sitting with a huff and casting his gaze away from Nat, feeling the burn of her stare on him.

"Um...I..." you gasped with a hard swallow, "uh, Nat, you can take the dress home right? I...I have to meet Steve for dinner." You glanced in the mirror at Clint but looked away quickly, still in shock at his brutal honesty. "I have to go."

~~~

Steve stood in the lounge at the tower, preparing to leave to meet you for dinner, checking and double-checking that he had everything before departing. He grabbed the keys to his bike from the table and spun around to head for the garage when he was stopped by Thor, standing directly in front of him.

"What's up, T-Hammer?"

"Will everyone be referring to me by that title now?" he smiled, gently brushing past the Captain to take a seat in one of the couches, his massive frame sinking deeply into the soft cushions. "I'm not certain yet if I like it or not."

"Well I like it, so it stays." Steve rolled his wrist over to check his watch, then looked to Thor anxiously with a small clap of his hands. "So, let's have it. I'm about to be late meeting (Y/N)."

"She lifted Mjolnir."

"Yeah, she told me."

Thor looked at him aghast, disbelief at the Captain's lackluster response. "This doesn't surprise you? You appear unfazed in this revelation."

"You also took off with her across the realms to do some weird Asgardian magic on her," Steve scoffed. "I'm learning to pick my battles here."

"I am unsure of what to do with this information," Thor replied with a shake of his head. "Heimdall said it was likely to be because of her purpose in lifting it, to save me, but what if there's more?"

"Would it matter?" Steve pressed, again checking the time. "Look, there's an easy way to figure this out. Just have her try to lift it again when you aren't about to die. Problem solved." He turned away with a small wave, jogging towards the stairs to hurry to the garage. "Sorry, T, I can't be late!"

"I definitely do not like it," Thor whispered, throwing his feet up on the table and leaning back, silently planning on how to get you to follow Steve's idea.

~~~

"This thing really is a giant crème puff," Natasha groaned, trying her best to stuff your dress into the back of the car without crushing it. "Beautiful, don't get me wrong. Just a lot of poof."

Once the dress had been sufficiently stuffed, Nat and Clint hopped into the car with a sigh and a high-five at their accomplishment. "Wait," Clint groaned, "next time she'll be in it. We can't just shove her ass into the car like this."

"Why not? Just shove her in head first."

"Ha!" he laughed out loud, leaning back into the seat with a wide grin, "savage, Nat. I like it."

Natasha slid the key into the ignition and paused, her hand still resting on it as she leaned back with a sigh that sounded almost sorrowful. Clint's laughter died down quickly as he felt the shift in her mood and the change in the atmosphere around them. He reached over and took her hand, getting her to finally look at him. "What's going on?"

"I don't want her to leave."

"She won't. She's just messed up and stressed with everything that's going on."

"Yeah, you're probably right." She sat up again and turned the key, looking in the mirror but unable to see behind her with your massive dress blocking her view. "Damn crème puff..."

"Probably right?" he scoffed, getting up to push himself over the seat, grunting as he shoved your dress down far enough for her to see. "Darlin' I'm definitely...right...shit!"

Nat had turned a little too sharply, sending Clint over the seat and onto your dress in a heap of tulle and silk that wrapped around him like an unescapable web. With a few curses and groans, he finally freed himself, bolting up and back over the seat, flopping into the seat at her side with a glare.

"Woman! Do I need to drive?"

"You wanna call me 'woman' again?" she snapped, slamming on the brakes.

"No," he quickly retorted, turning away with his hands up in both defeat and to protect himself. "No, ma'am I do not. I'll just be shutting up now." When she didn't move forward again, he glanced back cautiously to see her still staring at him. "I'm going to pay for that in some subtle way later, aren't I?"

"It's not gonna be that subtle."

~~~

You had arrived at the restaurant before Steve, or so you had thought. When the maître d brought you to your table it had a large arrangement of roses resting on it, with two filled glasses and a waiting fiancé standing to greet you.

"Well, Captain, this is unexpected," you smiled, quickly forgetting the conversation with Clint a short time ago. "You look great." You slowly ran your hands over his jacket, smiling at the crooked attempt taken at his tie. "So close, babe. So close."

"Buck wasn't there to do it for me." Steve walked around you and pulled out your chair in true gentlemanly fashion, taking his own seat once you were settled.

"You really need to learn how to tie those one of these days."

"Why?" he smirked, "Once we're married I don't have to try to impress you anymore. It's sweats and ball caps, baby." Something caught Steve's eye behind you, nodding in acknowledgement and standing quickly. "I'll be back, won't take long," he said as he leaned in for a quick kiss in passing. "Love you."

"Love you...too..." you replied, questioning why he made it sound like he wasn't actually coming back. With a small shrug you took a drink of your wine and grabbed the roses, bringing them up to your face with a deep inhalation that filled your senses. You closed your eyes for the briefest of seconds, and when you opened them again, Tony was in Steve's place.

"Don't leave."

"Make me stay."

"Okay..." he murmured, his eyes darting around and unfocused, as if he were searching his mind with desperation. After a moment he sat straight and slapped his hand on the table in relief of finding an answer. "Okay, how about this? I want to be called Grandpa."

All you could do was stare at him blankly, but he only sat still and watched you for your reply; he was giving you nothing more than that. "Okay, points for making me want to stay, but only because I'm completely confused and want to hear this."

"You're right, (Y/N), I was a shitty substitute father. And I didn't want you, not at first. But you had this way of getting to me, ya know? You still do, actually. Other than Pepper, you're the only one who sees through my BS and calls me out, and you're better at it than she is. Jesus, don't tell her I just said that." He took a deep breath and grabbed Steve's glass, taking a long swallow to try to calm his nerves.

"Hey, you're not supposed to drink. That's my liver you're screwing with."

"Right, sorry," he coughed, immediately setting the glass down well out of his reach. "Anyway, so I was thinking that I was this really terrible dad, right? But despite my ineptitude, you've grown up to be pretty amazing, so there was something good in there."

"Tony, of course there was. We both did our share to mess it all up."

"Okay, so someday, when you and Spangles pop out a few tiny patriots, I want to be called Grandpa. If you'll let me."

His eyes were filled with so much hopefulness when he looked at you now, if would be nearly impossible for you to deny him. Just because you argued and stuck to your guns a little too passionately sometimes, it didn't mean that you didn't love the guy. You did. Clint was right too; you didn't see Tony on the day of your accident, and when you tried to imagine the scene that he described, it sent a pain through you that was only a sliver of what Tony must have felt. Tony Stark was a bad dad, yes, but he wasn't the worst. The worst had left you behind, and this guy rescued you. He did the best he could in a terrible situation, and after all the pain you had caused each other over the years, he still loved you too.

You raised your glass slowly and took a drink, setting the glass down gently but not releasing it. Rolling the stem between your fingers, you watched the liquid swirl in the flute with your movement, mesmerizing you as you traversed your thoughts.

"Hey, you still with me?" Tony leaned forward towards you, reaching a hand out but slowly pulling back, unsure if he could or should touch you. With a new feeling of worry, he glanced up at Steve, who had been standing in the background and out of your view the entire time. "(Y/N)?"

"I think you'll be a wonderful Grandpa, Tony," you whispered, still staring at your glass.

His chair nearly tipped back at the force of him jumping up from it, rushing around the table to drop to his knees in front of you and pull you in for a sudden and crushing hug. The restaurant around you silenced and stared at the two of you, but Tony brought it to a halt, pulling back from the embrace just long enough to chastise your fellow patrons. "Stare all you want, I don't care," he announced. "I'm gonna be a grandpa!"

You immediately turned towards Steve who had gone completely pale, his skin now reflecting from the darkened corner that he had hid himself in. "No, no, no," you mouthed to him silently, waving your hands to calm him, "it's okay, no grandpa." Grabbing Tony's chin in your hand, you turned him to face you with a scolding look, "if you want me to marry the guy so bad, how about we don't give him a heart attack just days before the wedding, okay?"