Chapter Text
“Mr. Rogers?”
Steve looks up from the notebook he had been sketching in. “Hey, Peter. What do you need?”
“I… do you know when they’re coming back?”
Steve doesn’t have to ask who “they” are. He sets the notebook down and sighs. “No. I don’t.”
“Aren’t you…” He huffs a frustrated breath. “Isn’t anyone worried about them? It’s, it’s, it’s been almost three days since they’ve been gone and they aren’t back. We should’ve, should’ve given some sort of communicator so we could, we could reach them in case some, something like this happened.”
“Hey,” Steve says firmly. “Breathe.”
“I’m just really worried about them. What if something happened to them? What if their beacon stopped working? What if they’re lost o-or they’re too far from the ship or what if this planet is actually inhabited by big, giant, scary, evil aliens that, that, that ate them for dinner and we’d, we’d never know because they’re out there and we’re in here and, and, and—”
“Breathe,” Steve repeats. He takes some exaggerated long breaths, even though it makes his lungs rattle.
Peter follows his cues with frantic nods, conducting his hands as he breathes.
When he finally settles, hands still shaky while they push up and down, he gives an apologetic smile to Steve. “Sorry. I— I tend to spiral.”
“Hey, it’s alright. You’ve got every right.” Steve eyes Peter’s hands. “Does that really help with breathing?”
Peter looks down, shoulders jolting in realization. “Oh! Uh, I play saxophone at my school and we’ve gotta do breathing exercises before we play. They’re called kinesthetic gestures. Movements that trick your body into doing stuff.” He fumbles a bit, eyebrows drawn tight, as he tries to piece the words together. “When you breathe, you should be breathing with your diaphragm. Low, belly breaths. Often times, when people think of breathing, you see them take a deep breath like this.” He demonstrates, his shoulders sliding up as his chest rises. “But that’s not right. Breathing like that will make you lightheaded a-and aren’t good for long periods of time, especially when you’re using up your air playing an instrument, like saxophone.”
“Guess I’ve been breathing wrong, then,” Steve says, pondering the thought.
“So, moving your hands like this,” he holds his palms out, level with the floor, pushing them down when he breathes in and pulling them up when he breathes out, “is tricking yourself into breathing down in your diaphragm instead of your chest.” He scratches the back of his neck. “You gotta practice though. Breathing different, I mean. You kinda, if you’re breathing wrong your whole life, it’s kinda like reteaching a bad habit.”
“Huh,” Steve says. “Never really thought much about my breathing.”
“You should,” Peter says. “Because of your asthma, I mean. It’s really important to know how to breathe so you don’t make things worse.”
“I know a thing or two about makin’ it worse.”
Peter laughs. “Yeah, I do too. One time, we were doing the pacer in gym and— oh you probably don’t know what the pacer is. Well basically, there’s this testing we have to do like every quarter in gym where we watch this lame video that— oh, actually you’re in it.”
“I’m in it?” Steve repeats, perplexed.
“Yeah. Uh, Captain America you. You talk about the importance of fitness and stuff. They even have you do the voice over for all the stuff. Like the pacer! It’s like,” Peter lowers his voice to mimic Steve’s, “‘the FitnessGram Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test’ and uh, yeah it’s a long whole schpiel. We all have it memorized. But anyways, you have to do as many laps as you can do and the voiceover, uh, you are like counting all the different laps after the beep. It totally makes more sense when you’re there, I swear.”
“Right?” Steve says, not quite following.
“So, usually when we did the pacer, I’d end up having an asthma attack because, well, I’m me. So, this one time, I got up to thirty-two which like, I know doesn’t sound like a lot, but it’s a lot for me, but I must’ve left my inhaler in my locker, so I was just completely losing it. Hyperventilating, head getting fuzzy, vision getting blotchy, the whole shebang. And, uh, anyways, I ended up passing out and it was super embarrassing. Not sure if that was an asthma thing though. I didn’t have breakfast that morning because I woke up late.” He chuckles softly. “Yeah, probably a mix of things. I’m a mess.”
“I don’t think you’re a mess,” Steve says.
“Oh, well you just don’t know me well enough yet.” Peter smiles. “But that’s really nice of you.”
Steve shakes his head. “Gosh. Can’t imagine me being the spokesperson for fitness. The only physical activity I get is gettin’ into fights.”
Peter’s eyes go comically wide. “You get into fights?”
Steve nods. “Too many. I just can’t stand bullies.”
Peter goes quiet, head dropping as he looks at his fiddling fingers. “Yeah. Me too.”
Steve’s face drops. “Do you get bullied?”
“I—” Peter gulps. “It’s just— if it’s me, then it’s nobody else. You know? Then it’s just me.”
“It shouldn’t be anyone,” Steve says.
“Well, that’s not how it works,” Peter says, voice a cynical bitterness that Steve hadn’t heard before. “There’s just... lots to pick on me for. If it’s not the orphan thing then it’s the lack of athleticism thing or the top of the class thing or the gay thing…”
“Gay?” Steve asks.
“Well, technically bisexual. But bullies don’t care about the specifics.”
“I… don’t know what that means.”
Peter looks up. “Did you not have that back then?”
Steve winces at his choice of words. “We may have just had a different word?”
“Uh, homosexuality?” Peter says hesitantly.
Steve freezes. “Uhm…”
“Oh no! That’s not okay back then, is it? Oh boy, and I just, oh no. Please don’t think of me any differently. It’s really, it’s not the same kind of problem in the future as it is like when you’re from. I know that doesn’t fix much if you are … I really hope you’re not. Because you’re a cool guy and if you turn out to be homophobic, then I mean—”
“I’m not,” Steve interjects. “Homophobic. I mean, I assume that means against fairies and not… scared of ‘em. Because I ain’t neither of those things. I…” he trails off. “Is it really okay? Where you come from, being queer?”
Peter nods. “Yeah. It is. It’s not… it’s not completely awesome. But, I mean, gay marriage was just legalized in all fifty states this summer. A-and, there was this whole LGBT movement way before that. Things are changing for the good.”
“That’s… I’m glad to hear it.”
“And, uh, you probably shouldn’t call people fairies. That’s not really okay anymore.”
“Oh. Right.” Steve swallows thickly. “So, gay. And… bisexual. What do those mean?”
“Gay just means homosexual. Man loving man. Woman loving woman. That kinda thing. But bisexual, it’s liking both genders.”
“You can do that?” Steve asks, eyes widening.
“Yeah. Of course you can.” Peter pauses. “Sorry, that was insensitive. You’re just learning this all for the first time.”
Steve laughs dryly. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“So you’re bisexual, then?” Peter asks.
Steve stares at the wall, realization dawning on him. “Yeah. I think I am.” He swallows. “I go to the future, right? I’m around and kickin’?”
Peter nods. “Yup! Pulled from the ice in 2012.”
“There’s lots to look forward to, then.” Steve thinks about the future he supposedly has in the future. Superheroing straight out of the comic books with Tony and their team.
Tony. Him and Tony, living in the same time, teammates and maybe even friends. Together in a future where they could be with each other without being jailed, or worse, and could even… get married?
Why was he thinking of getting married to Tony?
As if on cue, the dark haired man enters, doing a little spin with a little flare from his hands. “Guess who just made a miniaturized arc reactor?”
Steve’s heart hammers hard. Oh.
“That’s awesome!” Peter says. “I knew you could do it!”
“Of course I could do it. I’m Tony Stark.”
“Congratulations, Tony,” Steve says, his voice betraying him and cracking slightly.
Tony gives him an odd look, lips curved up as he tilts his head. “What have you two been up to?”
“We’ve just been talking,” Steve says.
“Oooh. Any good gossip you’ve got to share?” Tony asks.
“Nope!” Steve says a little too quickly.
Tony raises an eyebrow, lips curling up even more. “Uh, okay.” He laughs which just makes Steve’s heart flutter even more.
Peter looks between the men and his mouth opens to an “o” as the pieces come together.
“You should rest, Mr. Stark!” Peter says. “I’ll go tell Ms. Danvers about the arc reactor.”
Before Tony can refute, Peter is dashing down the hall.
“What’s up with him?” Tony asks, pointing a thumb behind him.
“Who knows?” Steve replies with a stiff shrug.
“You know, if we weren’t stranded in the middle of space with food rations, I’d be celebrating with a heaping glass of 1926 scotch on the rocks and a good American cheeseburger right now.”
“Hey! That’s one thing that hasn’t changed since the ‘40s! A good cheeseburger is the perfect treat.”
Tony laughs. “I can’t even imagine the abomination of a cheeseburger you’ve had. When we get out of here, we’re getting you a real burger. That’s something you’ve got to look forward to about the future. Damn good food.”
“I’m sure I’ve got lots to look forward to,” Steve says. “Like flying cars! Your pa was showin’ ‘em off at his expo. I’m sure everyone’s got ‘em in the future, right?”
Tony goes rigid and gives a shake of the head. “Uh, actually, those didn’t quite work out. We’ve still got the boring ones on wheels. Well, not boring. Quite opposite of boring actually. Pretty impressive actually. At least, compared to what you’ve got.”
“Right.” Steve’s brows knit together tightly. “So, uh, Peter was really worried. The others that went out lookin’ for supplies have been gone for quite a while. Should we be worried?”
Tony falters, which immediately sticks out to Steve. Tony is many things, but reluctant isn’t something Steve would associate with him. “They’ll come back.”
There’s a shriek at the front of the ship and a loud “Steve! Tony!”
Steve and Tony meet each other’s eyes and dash together towards the shout.
Tony notices Steve lagging behind him and he slows his steps, matching his pace (which is frankly nothing remarkable, if anything, it’s too slow.)
What they find is not Peter being eaten by aliens or the ship imploding, but instead Stephen, Wanda, and T’Challa returned, their wagons stuffed full and their eyes red rimmed and tired.
“We found civilization,” T’Challa says.
Their breaths catch with worry and anticipation.
“None that are still alive,” Stephen continues. “The civilization we came across had been long dead by the time we got to them.”
“There was no food,” Wanda says flatly. “No water. But tools and resources we can use.”
“So what does that mean?” Scott asks.
“It means we can’t stay,” Carol says, realization dawns. “Once we run out of food, we’re out. So we… we’ve gotta get back to Earth.”
“Or a planet that is viable for human life,” Tony says.
“What are you saying?” Peter says, eyes wide. “We just… live in space forever? We don’t go home?”
“Not forever,” Steve says, eyes flickering between Peter and Tony. “Right? Just until we can get home.”
“But how can we all get home if we’re all from different times?” Carol says.
A silence settles over them all.
“Look,” Tony says. “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. Right now we just have to focus on getting this hunk of metal working which I think I’ve got covered.”
“You’ve determined how to turn on the engine?” T’Challa asks.
“No,” Tony says. “But I’ve made something that will get it up and running.” Tony holds up the arc reactor.
“Holy guacamole,” Scott breathes. “That’s the arc reactor.”
“That it is,” Tony says. “And once I get it implemented with the engine, we should be ready to set sail.” He turns to Carol. “Have you figured out the GPS?”
“Not yet,” Carol says. “But we did figure out the ignition. We just need—”
“Power,” Stephen says, a pensive look dawning his features as he looks at the arc reactor in Tony’s hand.
“Man,” Peter says. “Just a couple days ago, my biggest worry was my Spanish test, and now I have to worry about starving to death on an alien planet.” Peter’s eyes go wide, his lip trembling. “Oh gosh.”
Scott, immediately picking up on the impending breakdown, pulls Peter back to their room for some privacy.
“I am going to sleep,” Wanda says bluntly, trudging down the hall behind Peter and Scott.
“Jesus,” Tony says, running a hand over his face. “Spanish tests. Huh. Wow. Yeah.”
“What do you have waiting back for you when you get home?” Steve asks, soft and pondering.
“Flying,” Carol says. “And the two most important girls in my life.”
“Daughters?” Steve asks.
“Daughter and her mama,” Carol says with a fond smile and apprehension in her eyes as she gauges the reactions of everyone else to her reveal.
“Apparently I’ve got a bombing, kidnapping, and superhero tragic origin story waiting for me,” Tony says.
The mood sombers.
“I have a family,” T’Challa says. “A family and kingdom to return to.”
“I don’t know what I have waiting for me,” Stephen says. “Being here it’s… it’s making me reevaluate my priorities.” He looks at his shaking hands and hides them behind his back.
“What about you, Rogers?” Tony says. “What do you have waiting for you?”
“A best friend who’s been gone too long and a war that needs winning.”
Tony snorts, stifling a smile. “And they need to get you back. All of us.”
Steve looks at Tony with a look too soft and fond for his comfort. Tony feels too seen, knowing that Steve knows what really waits for him if he gets back.
And they all try not to think about what won’t be waiting for them when they get home.
.-~*~-.
Even though Scott was hot on Peter’s tail, he still gives him the courtesy of knocking on the door of their shared room.
“You can come in,” Peter says, voice dim and wavering.
Scott pushes the door open lightly and steels himself as he see Peter curled up in the corner of the room, his knees pulled to his chest and his face pink and puffy from his tears.
“May I?” Scott gestures next to Peter.
Peter just nods, sniffling and wiping his nose with his sleeve.
Scott takes a seat beside Peter and the boy immediately melts into his side. Scott wraps an arm around his shoulders and hugs him the best he can.
“Let it out, buddy,” Scott murmurs. “I’m here. I’ve gotcha.”
Peter cracks, tears flowing again, hiccuping on sobs, clinging to Scott as he shakes in his arms.
“I-I just wanna go ho-ome,” Peter wails.
Scott rubs circles in Peter’s back. “I know you do. We all do.”
“What if we ca-ca-can’t?”
“Hey,” Scott says. “We can’t think like that. I know you’re scared and I know it’s easy to expect the worst, but we gotta— we gotta believe that there’s a home to get back to and home that we will get back to.”
Peter’s cries start to subside, the tears just a silent stream as his sobs just become the occasional gasp, and he slumps into Scott’s embrace.
“Tell me about it,” Scott whispers. “Home.”
“I live in Queens. It’s all I know, even if it’s not all I’ve ever known.” A small smile grows on Peter’s face. “My Aunt May and Uncle Ben took me in after my parents died when I was a kid and they’re… they’re the best. They’re both so busy with their own jobs and their own lives but they always make sure they have time to spend with me and to spend as a family.”
“What do you like to do with them?”
“I like watching movies,” Peter says, the smile growing even wider. “We can’t go out to the theaters, but we check out movies from the library. The classics usually, or movies that aren’t super new. Ben really likes the action stuff and May likes all the sappy stuff and I like something in between. Like Star Wars.”
“You like Star Wars?”
“I love Star Wars. Me and my best friend, Ned, have watched the whole series so many times that we could probably quote it all. Ned has some of the Star Wars Lego sets and he always does them with me even though he totally could just do them by himself. One day, we’re gonna get a Lego Death Star and it’s gonna be absolutely epic.”
“It sounds pretty epic,” Scott says.
“Do you like Star Wars?”
“I could never really get into it,” Scott says. “It just wasn’t my sort of movie. I think I’d get along with your Aunt May more. There’s just something about a good romcom that just resonates with me in a way the critically acclaimed stuff just doesn’t.”
“Why do you like romcoms?”
Scott has to pause to think about it. “I think because no matter what they go through, no matter how much they don’t click at first, they learn how to love each other and they fight for that love.” The mood sombers. “You don’t wanna hear about my grown up problems. But… sometimes someone you love a lot isn’t the person you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with, even if you thought you were. But that just means there’s someone out there that’s gonna be your forever person. And the people you love, the ones who stay, the ones who don’t, they all teach you something. They’re in your life for as long as they’re supposed to be. And you learn from them and they’ll always be a part of you.”
Peter takes in his words and turns to him with hopeful wide eyes. “When I go home, will I forget you?”
“I don’t know, little dude,” Scott says. “But… but I’d like to think that even if you don’t, I’ll have left an imprint on your heart and you’ll remember the impact I had on you, even if you don’t remember what that impact was.”
“You should be a motivational speaker.”
Scott laughs, startled by the sentiment. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone’s gonna be wanting me preaching about the morals and truths of life anytime soon.”
“Well, maybe they will,” Peter says. “You’re gonna be an Avenger. Or, at least, you’re supposed to whenever it was you were taken from.”
“You too!” Scott says. “I don’t know who you’d be though. You’re too little to be an Avenger.”
Peter’s cheeks puff out with offense. “I am not little!”
“I don’t mean it like that,” Scott says. “I just… I’m a dad. And my daughter, Cassie, she’s nine and it feels like she’s growing up so fast but at the same time, she’s always going to be my little girl and you’re just a couple years older her and I just… I can’t imagine that sort of pressure being on the shoulders of someone who’s so young. And I’m not saying that you’re just a kid, but… you should be allowed to be a kid. The life of a superhero doesn’t seem like the kind that lets you do that.”
“Huh,” Peter says. “I guess you’re right.” Peter pauses, brows furrowing with thought. “I don’t even know how I could be a superhero. I’m just… I’m me. I can barely climb the stairs to my apartment.”
“Maybe you’re like Captain America.”
“I don’t know if I want to be like Mr. Rogers. Not that there’s anything wrong with him. But… but he gave up a lot to become Captain America. And from what I’ve gotten to know about him, here, now… I don’t know. I can see where Captain America comes from in Mr. Rogers but me? I… I’m no hero.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Scott says. “You’re smart. You’ve got a kind heart. You want to help people however you can. And you… you’re good. You’re a good kid, Peter, and I think you’ll bring a lot of good to the world, superhero or not.”
Peter smiles, chuckling tearily. “Thank you, Mr. Lang.”
And Peter may not be able to see it, but Scott does, and he can’t wait to see what sort of hero Peter will become.