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Peter had slipped away from Aunt May’s group gathered on the front porch, sipping coffee and chatting (why did adults drink coffee in the summer?). He could still hear them talking, along with other clusters of people in twos or threes strolling through the trees or just standing by the water. His enhanced senses could be a real pain.
He kept walking until he couldn’t hear them, scuffing his fancy dress shoes through the pine needles and grass. Finally, he stopped and stared out across the lake. Well, technically it was part of the river but it was wide enough here to seem more like just a lake.
Peter shoved his hands into his pockets, took a long breath. The lump was back in his throat, hard and painful. The burn at the back of his eyes. Aw, crap, hadn’t he cried enough? Well, considering the fact that he had sometimes cried remembering Uncle Ben two years after he died…
He heard someone approaching, footsteps soft and slow; not Aunt May. Please, no. He really didn’t want to talk right now, especially not if it was one of–
“Hey, Queens.”
The voice was soft for coming from a man so big, so strong and powerful, and Peter bit down on his bottom lip hard.
“I mean… your name’s Peter, right?”
Peter managed a nod, as Captain Steve freaking-‘America’ Rogers stepped up beside him, less than an arm’s length away.
His mind might have been spinning, if it wasn’t so weighed down with grief and pain. But there was something he instantly sensed about the most famous soldier in American history: he was… warm. Warmth and strength, but also a sadness as heavy as Peter’s.
For a while they both just stood there, and as Captain Rogers didn’t try to make any more conversation, Peter could feel the tightness in his chest easing, the throb behind his eyes lessening, ‘til he thought he might be able to open his mouth without bursting into tears.
He was about to do so, when Captain Rogers shifted his stance, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “You know…” he started slowly, his voice low and thoughtful, “the first thing Tony said to me, when he got back from being… adrift in space, was: ‘I lost the kid.’ I wasn’t sure what he meant… but now I know he could only think of you.”
*
Steve glanced down at his feet, then back out at the river. He could feel Peter staring at him.
He remembered the look on Tony’s face the one time he had dared ask about ‘the kid’. Peter Parker. Spiderman.
But it was everything Tony had not said that told the truth about what the teenage boy—who happened to have the ability to climb walls and make jokes in a battle at an airport—really meant to him.
“He was proud of you. Said you were the best kid he’d ever met.”
Steve heard Peter suck in a deep, quivering breath, and hesitated. He wasn’t trying to make the boy cry, but he just had this feeling that this was something Peter needed to know.
Tony had mentioned that he lived with his aunt, whom Steve had now met. Whatever Peter’s family story was, Steve knew how important a father-figure was to a boy, especially such a good-hearted and loving kid as Peter. He had had one in Tony, and now the man was gone.
Steve wouldn’t be surprised if Tony had left some private message somewhere for Peter. But, well, maybe he’d spent too long counselling at the VA. He was starting to think like Sam or Dr. Dal, Bucky’s head psychiatrist in Wakanda.
Even if Peter knew this already, some things could bear repeating.
“Tony loved you.”
*
It was only a moment, but in the heartbeat while Captain Rogers’ words echoed through Peter’s mind, he could see Mr. Stark, standing on the battlefield facing him, staring at him, and without a word, pulling Peter into a hug. He could feel Mr. Starks grip, strong yet gentle, even through both their suits of armour.
In that brief moment, in that hug like he hadn’t known since he’d lost Uncle Ben, he’d felt something from Mr. Stark. Something that seemed to fit the definition of love. A father’s…
“I know that much.” Captain Rogers turned ever so slightly, so his words came to Peter more directly. His voice was soft and kind. “And I have to think that you were a big reason why he chose to do this. Chose to help… bring half the world back into existence.”
“So, you’re saying–” Peter’s voice came out tight and painful, the next words not even making it past the ball of pain in his throat. “–that it’s my fault he-?”
“I’m saying… that he cared.” It was almost as if Captain Rogers had read his mind. “We all had our reasons for doing what we did. And he cared too much to just leave things the way they were. He cared about you.”
Peter’s lips were shaking, and he felt a tear slip down his cheek. “Then… why-?” he choked out. “Why did it have to… end like this?”
“Because. That’s what heroes do.” Captain Rogers’ voice was barely above a whisper. “They give. Whatever they have. For others.”
“Your uncle was a hero, Peter.”
“I know, I know, Iron Man’s like, your hero.”
“I just wanted to be like you.”
“And I wanted you to be better.”
“You did good, kid.”
“You did it, Mr. Stark. We won.”
“That’s the hero gig, right? Part of the journey is the end.”
“Everything’s going to work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.”
“Tony loved you.”
Peter was crying.
*
Steve hesitated, before he stepped closer to the boy and rested a hand on his shoulder. “My dad died before I was born. My mom raised me, just the two of us. I lost her when I was eighteen.” Just thinking about it made another ache in his heart, this one quiet and old.
“I didn’t know what I was going to do without her. But I had a best friend, and he stuck with me through it all. And I found that…” How should he put this?
“She might have been gone. But her love wasn’t.”
Peter’s shoulders were shaking, his sobs getting harder, and Steve gave a little sigh. He thought of Bucky, of standing in front of his old apartment door, and without more ado, wrapped his arm around the kid’s shoulders, pulled him in against his side.
He didn’t try to say anything more, he hoped he hadn’t said too much.
They stood for a little while, while Peter cried against Steve’s jacket, and Steve watched the waves gently lapping against the shore, the way the sunlight danced and glittered on the water.
Life, and Tony had lived it.
How would Steve do that now?
Peter didn’t cry for very long, before his sobs faded to uneven breaths, and the tears slowed to sniffles. Sixteen years old (give or take) and already bearing the hero’s burden.
He rested his hand on the back of Peter’s neck, gave a little squeeze, before the boy stepped away. Steve immediately offered his handkerchief, and as Peter took it, he froze, stared up at Steve.
“Oh, gosh, Mister, uh, Captain America, er, Rogers, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have–”
“Queens,” Steve interrupted. He smiled at the boy. “Just call me Steve.”
“Oh, o-okay, Mister, uh, Steve.”
Steve surprised both of them with a chuckle. “Mister Steve. I like that.”
“Peter!”
A call broke the moment, and they both turned to see Happy Hogan standing at a little distance, holding the hand of Tony’s daughter Morgan. Steve met Happy’s eyes, nodded a greeting. It was Happy who had called, but now Morgan spoke up.
“Peter?”
The boy hesitated, glancing at Steve, who half-smiled and jerked his head. “You go.”
“Okay. Um, yes, sir. I… Thank you, sir.” The last words were soft and earnest, his eyes—though reddened with tears—met Steve’s, straight and true.
“You’re welcome.” Steve shrugged. “Brooklyn ain’t that far from Queens.”
“Peter!” Morgan called again, surer of herself this time.
Peter walked to join her and Happy, and the little girl looked up at him, putting her hands behind her back, a little shy. “Do you like cheeseburgers?”
“Yeah.” Peter cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders. “I like them okay.”
“You want to get one with us?”
Steve could hear a smile in Peter’s voice when he answered. “Sure.”
Happy turned, and Morgan fell in beside him, reaching up to grab his hand. Peter, though, hesitated a moment, glanced over his shoulder at Steve, then almost subconsciously brought his hand up to touch his forehead in a little salute.
Steve saluted back.
Then Peter was walking beside Happy, and Morgan was jumping over tree roots, and as he watched them go, Steve smiled. You’ve got some good kids there, Tony. Looks like Happy's going to have his hands full.