Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PART ONE

Peggy Carter sighed, her index finger tracing the length of the photograph in her hand. The angelic face of Steve Rogers was staring up at her in black and white, wearing his full Captain America gear (without the mask). He was looking slightly to the side, his expression composed and determined.

He looked exactly as Peggy remembered him.

It had only been a few short months since the Schmitt incident, her Steve having sacrificed his life to save countless others. Only a few short months since she’d last heard her love’s voice. Seen him smile. Been held by him in his arms.

Peggy willed herself not to cry. She’d sworn to herself that she was going to get better; she was going to stop obsessing over Steve— obsessing over the what ifs. Because their time had passed now. Steve had proven himself to be the man that Dr Erskine had believed in and by being a good man, it meant that he couldn’t be her man.

“Oh stop it,” she muttered to herself, berating her inner crybaby for the tears that pooled in her eyes whenever she thought of Steve. Peggy constantly wondered why life had to of been so cruel. Why did Steve have to die? Why had their romance, their love, had to of been so short?

They’d only known each other for a limited amount of time but Peggy knew that no man would ever really be able to compare to Steve Rogers. The tears that escaped her eyes dropped down onto the picture, the small beads of water running off Steve’s face and onto the floor.

She could still remember how it felt to have Steve’s lips be pressed up against hers. The memory of the warmth that radiated off his body giving her chills as she bit her lip.

It had been the night before Steve had sacrificed himself, a meeting about strategy and military tactics having just finished, when the blonde man had pulled her to the side. His eyes had been so piercing and beautiful as they bored into hers, something serious in his expression as he whispered to her.

“This mission is going to be dangerous, Peggy,” Steve had sighed, a look of resignation in his face as he’s talked. “And in case anything goes wrong— in case something bad happens, i just want you to know . . .”

“Steve, i know,” she’d whispered back, love shining through her eyes as she’d looked up at the man she knew now owned her heart and soul. He would give anything (including his life) to keep her and their country safe. And Peggy admired his courage because of that.

“You do?” The unspoken fact of what she knew wasn’t acknowledged between the blonde and brunette.

Peggy had bitten the inside of her lip as she’d nodded. “Yes and i do too.”

Steve hadn’t wasted time in kissing her then, leaning in to press his lips against hers with passion and love. Their union had been brief and it had left Peggy wanting more as she’d unattached her legs from Steve’s waist as the man had sighed into her ear, kissing the side of her face with tenderness.

“Everything will turn out alright Steve,” Peggy had smiled as she’d sorted out her skirt, one hand pressed to Steve’s cheek. The man lent into her grip, turning his head to the side to kiss her palm.

It turns out that Peggy had been wrong: it hadn’t worked out.

“Peggy?” Angie Martinelli called from the other side of the door. “You okay in there?” The sounds of Peggy’s muffled sobs, the tap running to try and hide her tears as she’d locked herself in the bathroom, was starting to scare her friend.

“I’m all right Angie!” Peggy called out, using the same tone she always used when she was lying. It was clear her friend didn’t believe her because she just knocked on the wooden door again and asked if she could come in. “Very well.”

“How you doing?” Angie’s voice was sad as she spotted Peggy sitting on the side of the bathtub, Steve’s picture in one hand and dried tear tracks running down her face. She moved to sit beside her, hands in her lap as she waited for her friend to open up.

“I’m fine, Angie, seriously,” Peggy tried again, a small sniffle betraying her.

“Except you aren’t,” Angie sighed, wrapping one arm around her friend and pulling her in. “I know you miss him.”

“I’m late,” Peggy whispered. Admitting the fact out loud caused her hands to shake and she gripped Steve’s picture tighter so he wouldn’t fall down to the floor. Angie just looked at her quizzically.

“For what?”

Peggy liked her lips, pressing them together in a thin line when they began to tremble. She gave Angie a look and repeated the sentence again, putting more emphasis on her words now.

“Oh,” Angie suddenly understood, her eyebrows shooting up as she ingested the meaning. Peggy was expecting. “And it’s . . .”

“It’s his,” Peggy nodded, her eyes going back to the blue eyed, blonde man that looked so serious and brave in his picture. His features were chiseled out and the picture didn’t do justice to his true handsomeness.

“Oh darling, isn’t that a good thing?” Angie smiled slightly, placing a hand on Peggy’s shoulder with care. “Now you’ll always have a piece of him with you! There’s no need to cry Peggy, this is a blessing.”

A blessing.

Peggy carried Angie’s words with her throughout her entire pregnancy, repeating them like a mantra each time she was given a nasty look for being a single mother or simply having had sex out of wedlock. She mumbled the words to herself each time she began to miss Steve. Repeated them over and over when her head was in a toilet bowl, the morning sickness leaving her nauseous for hours.

When her baby was born, the birth taking an agonising 13 hours with Angie standing by her side the entire time, Peggy mouthed the phrase once again as her son was placed in her arms. Tears rolled down as her face as the screaming baby wriggled and moved around on her chest before settling down in the comfort of his mother’s arms.

“A boy,” Angie had a dopey smile on her face as she stared down at Peggy’s son. “He’s perfect, Peggy.”

Peggy just nodded, kissing her son’s tiny fist. The baby was perfect and whilst her heart ached for Steve, Peggy couldn’t help but ignore her heartbreak as she fell in love with her son.

“Have you got a name?” The nurse smiled down at the mother and son. She was an elderly women with a few thousand wrinkles lining her face and grey hair peaking out from her nurse hat.

“Peter,” Peggy spoke the words before she realised what she was saying. She’d spent her entire pregnancy liking and hating names but every time she’d seen the name Peter, she’d passed over it. But as she held her son in her arms now, she knew he was a Peter. He was her Peter.

“How lovely,” the nurse smiled again, cooing at the newborn before walking out to go inform Howard and Jarvis (who sat in the waiting room) about the new arrival.

“You can do this Peggy,” Angie gave her friend’s shoulder a squeeze as her other finger wobbled in front of Peter’s face. “You won’t be alone.”

And Peggy wasn’t alone— never when it came to Peter. Angie was there every step of the way, playing the perfect Aunt to a growing Peter and sneaking him snacks whenever she thought that Peggy wasn’t looking. Howard stopped by almost by routine, bringing over his new girlfriend Maria on a few visits too. He never really interacted with Peter, who would shuffle across Peggy’s apartment floor and babble when he could. Howard much of a babies fan but Peggy guessed the fact that Peter was related to the one and only Captain America meant Howard gave Peter the exception.

Peggy sighed as her eyes roamed over to the calendar on the side. On this day, 5 years ago, Steve Rogers died. As if to signify the chilling memory, a gush of freezing cold air breaks into the apartment. Snow is beginning to lightly fall outside as Peggy crosses the room to the close window, slamming it shut with enough force to break it.

It was silent in the apartment (something she didn’t take lightly when there was a 4 year old living under her roof) and Peggy’s mind drifted to her son. Peter, a little boy whose heart was just as big as his father’s, except looked exactly like Peggy.

At first she’d been disappointed that Peter resembled her more than Steve; with the boy’s curly brown hair and brown eyes, there was nothing in Peter’s face that looked like his father. But his heart and brave personality was all Steve.

Peggy smiled as she crept to Peter’s room, watching as he slept. She knew Steve would’ve been proud of their son. How could he not?

The window was open again when Peggy returned to the living room. A frown grew on her face as something akin to panic began to dawn on her. She could’ve sworn that she closed that window. Before she could even pick up her gun from where it was stashed in the drawer by her sofa, something sharp went into her neck. Darkness swallowed her.

When Peggy woke up, however many hours later, the apartment was freezing cold and snow had started to settle on the floor by the open window. Peggy’s head pounded and her muscles ached as she picked herself up from the wooden floorboards, trying to remember what had happened.

As if lightning struck her, fear curled itself in her stomach and Peggy raced down the hall to her son’s bedroom. A cry ripped out of her throat as she stared into the empty room. Peter’s bedsheets were thrown on the floor and his favourite toy, a scrubby old bear with a Captain America mask on its head, was laying dejectedly on the vacant bed.

Tears rolled down Peggy’s face as she sobbed, her breathing hitching as she fell to the floor.

5 years after Steve died, Peggy lost her son.

Never for one-second did she stop trying to find him.

Chapter Text

“You look good Tony,” a blonde whispered into the billionaire’s ear as she passed, her hands lingering on his arms for too long and her smile showing all her white teeth. Tony almost didn’t hear her sultry voice over the sound of the music blaring around the party. People screamed and laughed, the bass drowning it out with the DJ’s tunes.

“So do you,” he smiled back at her, enjoying the way she leaned in closer. The blonde was wearing a mini skirt and a crop top, her lip gloss shining as she moved in closer to his personal space.

“You like this,” she licked her lips as her eyes stayed glued to Tony’s. “You should see what i’m wearing underneath.”

And he did. God, he did want to see what was underneath. A smile still on his lips, Tony turned to where Pepper was purposely adverting her eyes and coughed so she would bring her attention back to him. “Uh, Potts, make sure everything with the party stays okay— i’m going to be occupied . . . for a while.”

The blonde smiled even more, her arm linking into Tony’s as they walked away from the outdoor party and into the lively house. People were walking on the furniture and spilling drinks all over Tony’s floor but he barely paid any attention to it as he led the blonde up the stairs.

“You want to see my personal room?” He appreciated not needing to shout now that they were away from the party scene.

“Oh please,” the woman huffed, her eyes eating Tony’s in a hungry passion. Now they were away from the crazy lights of the party, Tony could see that the woman currently laying on his bed was actually rather pretty. He just smirked as he undid the tie from around his neck, watching as the woman beckoned him closer.

Before he could even step forward to the bed, there was a loud pounding on his door. “Mr Stark? Tony!” Pepper’s voice yelled out and the man groaned. The woman on his bed rolled her eyes, waiting for him to dismiss his PA.

“What?” Tony hissed as he cracked the door open a fraction. Pepper’s red hair was the only thing he could see through the small crack. “I’m kinda busy here.”

“You have a call,” Pepper spoke back with equal anger. “It’s your Aunt Peggy.”

The mention of Aunt Peggy makes Tony freeze. He cracks open the door a little more to see Pepper’s expression; her features are deadly serious and Tony gulps away his anxiety, sliding through the door’s gap so he could face his assistant properly.

“What did she say?” Tony demands, staring at the phone in Pepper’s hand.

“She’s in the hospital,” Pepper has the decency to look upset. “I think she fell.”

“And she phoned me because?” Despite how much he loved his Aunt Peggy, it was no secret that they’d become more distant throughout the years. Peggy’s friendship with Howard, despite the old man’s asshole tendencies, had been the backbone to Peggy and Tony’s relation. Once Howard had died, Peggy had stuck around for a while but she’d left when Tony’s alcoholism had peaked. She’d said something about Tony’s bad habits breaking her heart and being unable to watch as he followed in his father’s footsteps.

They still spoke occasionally but Tony couldn’t help but be shocked that Peggy sought him out when she was in hospital.

“She wants to see you.”

“See me?” Tony scoffed, trying to push away the emotion that arose at the one person (apart from Jarvis) who he actually had happy memories with from his childhood. He missed his Aunt Peggy crazy amounts but he would never admit it. At least, not to anyone but her. “What for?”

“Tony,” Pepper gives him her infamous no bullshit stare. “Don’t do this. Go see her.”

He didn’t even think twice before he arranged for the company jet to fly him out to England. Tony left Pepper in charge of shutting down the party and Obie’s complaints as he boarded his private jet less than two hours after he’d received the news.

It was raining in England when Tony’s jet touched down, the flight stewardess’ giving him flirty looks as they informed him about their arrival. Tony didn’t even pay them any attention as the worry began to rise up. Now he was in England, mere hours away from seeing his Aunt Peggy, something terrifying about the situation seemed to hold him. Even though their contact had been limited for the last decade, he still loved his Godmother and the thought of possibly losing her was killing him.

“Sir, we’re here,” the non-Happy driver (that was how Tony categorised his drivers now) called from the front seat, breaking Tony’s thoughts. The hospital was large with a fancy reception, the smily nurse managing to keep a calm expression as Tony barged in demanding to find out where his Aunt was. He received quite a few yells about running as he legged it down the corridor, trying to find the room the nurse had told him.

When Tony found the room, his heart racing and skin slightly flushed, he couldn’t help but pause. This was the first time in years that he’d spoken to his Aunt Peggy face to face. He half wondered if one of his Godmother’s children were going to be there too. Despite having spent a large amount of his childhood with Peggy, Tony had never really hung out with the two children she’d shared with ex army husband.

He knocked lightly on the door, waiting for the croaky “come in” from his Aunt before walking into the room. Peggy looked different, Tony realised: she looked old. It seemed the last few years hadn’t been kind to her as heavy wrinkles decorated her face and her hair was completely grey. Her brown eyes were the same though, the way her skin crinkled around them the same when she smiled.

“Anthony,” Peggy smiled brightly, her hand reaching out for her honorary nephew. She was the only one who had ever called him by his full name, she’d always said that she loved the name and didn’t want him to forget it. Tony took a few steps forward and encased her tired, old hand in both of his. Her fingers were cold and he tried not to shiver at the thought. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Anything for you, Aunt Peggy.”

“I hope you don’t think it was rude of me to ask for you?” Peggy gave him a look and Tony shook his head immediately. He hated how frail the strong woman looked in the hospital bed.

“Of course not, i’m glad to hear from you.”

“I do regret our recent distance, Anthony,” Peggy looks almost heartbroken and Tony tries to ignore the fact that it was his drinking that caused such a sad expression on Peggy’s face. “I want to see more of you— this recent stint has made me realise how much i’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too Aunt Peggy,” Tony whispers, holding her hand between his like it was a lifeline. “Are you okay? I heard you fell.”

Aunt Peggy rolled her eyes in such a Peggy way that Tony almost thought he was a child again, watching his Aunt get exasperated at something his father said. “It was a mere stumble, Anthony. Everything was blown out of proportion. They want me in here for a while though, something about my hip.” She huffs, making Tony laugh.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he smirks at her. There was something about being around Aunt Peggy that made him feel like a boy again. And despite his rather horrible childhood, he liked the feeling.

They spoke for a few hours, catching up and moving past their differences. Peggy ignored Tony’s party lifestyle, opting instead to talk about the achievements of her children and grandchildren. It seemed her grand-daughter was now a nurse, recently married and her son was onto his third marriage (Peggy didn’t like his new wife though) with a child on the way.

“Have you thought about settling down now, Anthony? You are 35,” Peggy gave him a pointed look and Tony couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her antics. She was like the mother he’d never had and the mother he’d lost all rolled into one.

“I don’t really think i’m the family man sort,” Tony replied.

Peggy’s response was to roll her eyes and huff again. “Oh please, Anthony! I think you would suit it if you even considered it.”

“I don’t really want those things,” he shrugged. Tony had lost his parents at 17, his Aunt Peggy had stopped coming over so frequently several years after that and Obie was not really family as much as he was a buisness partner. He was used to not being surrounded by family. He was used to the lifestyle where he catered for one and only had himself to look out for (not that he really did).

Tony never really saw himself as a family man because he’d never really known what a family was like. Even when alive, his parents had never given much to their family. Always working, hardly around and never giving him comfort as a child. Tony was used to relying on himself only.

“You know,” Peggy gave him one of her infamous looks. “I think you do but you won’t admit it.”

Tony cleared his throat, pointing to a picture on Peggy’s bedside table. He was desperate to change the conversation as he spotted the black and white picture. “Whose the kid? A grandkid?”

Peggy’s expression fell as her eyes fell on the picture. Tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks as she reached a shaky hand out to the picture on the side. Tony wondered if he’d said the wrong thing as Aunt Peggy stared at the picture for the longest time.

“His name is Peter,” Peggy whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “He’s my son.”

Tony frowned. For all he’d known, Peggy only had one son. “What do you mean Aunt Peggy?”

“Did Howard never tell you the story of my Peter?” Peggy frowned, looking genuinely confused. “I thought you knew.”

“I have no idea what you’re on about. Howard never exactly spoke to me for anything but Stark Industries, Aunt Peggy.”

“Oh,” Peggy’s lips wobbled as one of her fingers shakily ran over the length of the picture. The child looked to be a toddler with chubby cheeks and a bright smile. He definitely had a resemblance to Peggy. “Maybe you were too young to have understood when we spoke about him.” She shook her head slightly. “He is my son, my Peter. I gave birth to him in 1946—“

“But that was before you met—“

“My husband, yes,” Peggy interrupted him. “Peter doesn’t share my other children’s father. He was the light of my life. He had the most adorable chubby cheeks and his heart was so huge, Anthony, he cared about everyone and everything.”

Tony had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this story.

“He was kidnapped when he was 4.”

It was like being punched in the gut as he watched his Aunt Peggy crumble, the usually strong woman letting tears roll down her face as she remembered her lost son. Tony leaned in, wrapping an arm around her and allowing her to cry on him. He’d never seen her so heartbroken. Not even at her husband’s funeral several years earlier.

“I’m so sorry,” Tony mumbled when they parted, his hand still holding hers in a tight grip. “You never found him?”

“No,” Peggy sniffled, her eyes now bloodshot.

“Is that his?” Tony nodded to where a ragged old bear sat where the picture of Peter used to sit on the bedside table. It looked worn and ugly but Tony could tell it used to be shown a lot of love.

“Yes,” Peggy’s voice is almost hoarse. She reaches out for the bear, turning it over in her hands once before passing it to Tony like she’d been burnt. “I spent years trying to find him. I helped create SHIELD with an entire branch focused solely on finding him. But there was nothing.”

“SHIELD?” Tony frowned, the name ringing a bell. “I’ve heard of that before.”

“Your father helped create it, too,” Peggy smiled weakly. “You think your father was a cruel man, Anthony, but he did all he could to help me find my son.”

“And SHIELD is still around today?” Tony pressed. “What is it? Like the FBI?”

“I guess so and yes, it is still around. Although the branch dedicated to finding my Peter has long since shut down.”

“What?” Tony wasn’t sure why he saw red but the broken expression of Aunt Peggy before him as she conceded all hope in finding her son was enough to make him angry. “Why? If you helped co-found SHIELD then they should still be looking for one of the reasons why it was founded in the first place.”

“Anthony—“

“I don’t like to see you so hopeless, Aunt Peggy.” Tony whispered the words like they were shameful. “I want to help you in anyway i can.”

“Anthony, i appreciate you wanting to help but it’s been too long. I can’t take any more disappointment.”

He holds out the bear, expecting Peggy to take it back but the woman almost shies away from it. “You keep it Anthony, i can’t bear the constant reminder of it anymore.”

Tony nods, not knowing what he could possibly do with a stuffed bear but decided to drop the subject. They talk for several hours more before the nurse comes in and subtly suggests that Tony should leave. He makes his way out of the hospital with a promise to visit again soon, hopping into the waiting car as his non-Happy driver speeds off to a hotel.

Honestly, Tony is proud of himself that he managed to wait until he was safely in his hotel room before he did what he did best: dug for information. “Hey J,” he calls out, tapping his sunglasses a few times so the AI would wake up. “I need your help.”

“How can i be of assistance?” The robotic voice called back.

“I want you to get all the information you can about SHIELD and any possible headquarters.”

It was less than 5 minutes later that JARVIS’ voice spoke up again. “I have information regarding a headquarters in Washington DC, sir. And the name of the current director.”

“Okay and that is?”

“A Nicholas Fury, sir.”

“And you said that their base is in DC?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well,” Tony clapped his hands together with a smirk. “I guess we’re going to DC.”

Chapter Text

Fury had received the information about a secret Hydra base only a week ago. The source had been trustworthy so he’d wasted no time in sending in a group of agents to destroy the base and all their illegal operations. He’d been expecting news about the base’s destruction, some blackmarket gun sales or maybe even a killer robot. What he hadn’t expected was for his agents to return a few days later, Hydra now destroyed, with a child in tow.

According to the team he’d sent in, the boy had been the only child on the base. He’d been locked up in some containment pod, blissfully asleep whilst they’d raided the place and killed the terrorists left, right and centre.

The entire flight back the boy had been asleep. It had only been when the jet had landed and they were trying to move the child to a secure location that he woke up and started freaking out. Fury had been there throughout the entire ordeal, watching as some chubby faced toddler had cried out for his mother and screamed bloody murder.

They still had no information about the kid several days into him living in SHIELD’s headquarters. All they knew was that he was a brown haired child who had a habit of sneaking off undetected. To this day, Fury had no idea how that boy managed to get out of his locked room and run havoc around HQ. Despite his annoying habits, Fury actually liked the kid. (He never said that out loud though).

“Sir,” an agent spoke through the intercom, breaking Fury out of his thoughts. “Mr Stark has arrived, he demands he sees you.”

“What could Stark possibly want?” Fury barked back. He’d only met Howard’s son less than a handful of times and never in proper meetings but he doubted there was anything he could do for Tony Stark.

“He neglects to say sir.”

From experience, Fury knew it was best to just deal with Stark’s straight away. Things were only made worse if you let them simmer. “Send him in.” Fury paused for a second. “And the boy, where is he?”

“Last known location was in his room, i believe he was having a nap.”

“Good,” Fury mumbled just as Tony Stark barged into his office. The last thing he needed was to answer questions as to why a 4 year old was running around HQ. It would be even more infuriating considering no one had the answers for why either. “Stark, what a pleasure.” Fury gave the billionaire a sarcastic grin.

“You must Director Fury?”

“Call me Fury,” he leaned back in his chair, eyeing Tony Stark with his one good eye. “We have met several times but you must’ve been too young . . . or inebriated to remember.”

Tony scoffed. “I must’ve been.”

“What can i do for you Stark? I’m guessing you didn’t come to say hi.”

“I want to talk about Peggy Carter. Or more specifically, her son.”

Fury leaned forward in his seat, his frown growing. “And what exactly is it you want to talk about that has to do with her son?”

“Let’s just say that i’m willing to give a large donation for you to open up investigation into that closed department.”

“Stark, i don’t know if you know this but it’s been 55 years since that boy went missing— as i’m assuming you’re talking about Agent Carter’s abducted son, correct? The case is closed.”

“It isn’t closed until he’s been found.” Tony pressed, his buisness attitude breaking out.

“None of the agents have the time nor funding to look into a cold case.” Fury shook his head. Out of all the things he’d expected Stark to say, this hadn’t even crossed his mind. But then again, Fury shouldn’t have been surprised. For his entire career he’d known that Stark’s tended to have a soft spot for Peggy Carter.

“We can sort out the funding,” Tony waved his hand with ease. “Like i said, i’m willing to donate a more than generous sum of money to the cause.”

“Did Agent Carter set you up to this?” Fury sighed. “Because like she was told 10 years when we shut down the department, there are no leads. No traces. There is no reason to believe that opening up the case now will result in any breakthroughs.”

“This is someone’s son!” Tony hissed. “She deserves to find him!”

“Do you know the percentages on missing children cases, Stark? 74% of children who are found dead were killed within the first three hours since their abduction. Its been 55 years.”

“Peggy deserves—“

“Listen here Stark,” Fury sighed. “I get that you want to help your Godmother. Agent Carter always spoke fondly of you; i know you shared a close bond during your childhood. But SHIELD has done all it could in finding Peggy Carter’s son. There is nothing more we can do.”

“I’m sure you could do more,” Tony spoke bitterly, ignoring Fury’s eye roll.

“You are entitled to your own opinion Stark. Was this all you wanted to discuss?” Fury gestured to the door and Tony debated whether he should stay and argue Peggy’s point further. He wasn’t entirely sure as to why he had become more involved in a case that had been closed 10 years after a 55 year span. Tony guessed it was probably the combination of being on speaking terms with Aunt Peggy again and actually wanting to do some good (to counteract his merchant of death rep).

“It hasn’t been a pleasure, Fury,” Tony stood up from his chair, the bald headed man giving him an unimpressed look. “I hope to not meet in the near future.”

“Suits me,” Fury sighed once more as he watched Tony leave. “I’m sure you can find your way out?”

“Of course,” Tony called before closing Fury’s office door. His assistant gave Tony a weird look but he just flashed her a smile and walked in the opposite direction of where he’d come from. If Fury wouldn’t help him then Tony decided that he could find some files or something that could.

Nobody even looked twice as Tony walked around HQ like he owned it. He kept his head high, ducking a few times when he reached more restricted areas. Breaking into the locks was simple and before Tony knew it, he was staring at the cabinets where all the secret files were kept.

He walked down the row of containers, each one holding classified information as he reached the one he was sure would hold all he needed about Peggy’s son. Tony pulled out a pin, quickly picking the lock before digging through the files.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to do that,” a child’s voice called out from behind Tony, making him jump.

“Shit kid, you scared me!”

The boy let out a gasp, his eyes widening with horror. “You said a swear!”

Tony rolled his eyes, opting not to reply as he went back to digging through the files. The boy walked closer, staring up at Tony like one would a skyscraper. The kid looked rather small, like he couldn’t be older than 6 years old. He had a mop of brown hair, the ends curly slightly in a cute way. His brown eyes were wide as they stared up at Tony.

“Why don’t you skedaddle kid? This doesn’t involve you,” Tony sighed, sparing a second to glance at the boy.

“Whats sked-ska-skee-daddle?” The boy fumbled over the words and Tony gave him an unimpressed look.

“It means make a move kid; why don’t you go back to your mummy?”

The little boy pouted, crossing his arms over his chest as tears started to well up in his eyes. “I don’t know where my mummy is.”

Tony groaned, pausing in his search efforts to pay the kid more attention. The last thing he wanted to deal with was a lost kid but here he was. “She has to be somewhere in the building.”

The boy shrugged, sniffling loudly. “I haven’t seen here and i’ve been here for days!”

“You’ve been here by yourself for several days?” Tony sounded shocked, unable to work out why SHIELD had a kid running around unattended.

“Miss Hill looks after me. But not mummy.”

Tony wasn’t sure who Miss Hill was but she couldn’t be that bad if she was trying to help and look after the kid.

“Then go find Miss Hill,” he went back to looking through the files. He groaned again when it became too dark at the back of the cabinet to read the words on the files, pulling out his phone from his pocket so he could use the flash to see (it was a design of his own creation, something that other peoples phones didn’t seem to have yet).

Tony ignored when the boy gasped and cheered, his eyes still focused on the now visible words on the files before him. He did look however when the boy yelled out “Mister Bear!” It seemed when Tony had pulled out his phone, the stuffed toy Peggy had given him had fallen out of his pocket too. The boy was current squeezing him to death, his cheek jammed against the toy’s.

“That doesn’t belong to you,” Tony frowned, moving a hand out to snatch the toy away but the boy moved too quick. The kid set Tony with a glare.

“No! Mine!”

Tony was about to try and snatch the teddy again but a file caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. “Gotcha,” he mumbled, pulling the relatively small file out and scanning the information quickly. Jackpot. He hoped with this he could actually do some good and help his Aunt Peggy get closure.

“I guess i’ll be seeing you kid,” Tony waved as he began to walk off. The kid followed him, still holding the bear in a vice grip. “You run off to Miss Hill now.”

“Where ya going?” The kid stayed on Tony’s heels, eyes wide as they stared upwards at him.

“New York,” Tony sighed, deciding to humour the kid. He normally would go back to his Malibu Mansion but the lab in his New York penthouse was better suited for the kind of research he was going to be invested in.

“I’m from New York!” The little boy jumped up and down with excitement.

“Good to know kid,” Tony smirked as his enthusiasm. They were at the exit now, the jet Tony had hired to get him to DC waiting and ready to go. “I guess this is goodbye buddy.”

“Bye,” the boy pouted as Tony walked away, his hands still clenched around the toy. Tony didn’t have the heart to try and take it again.

As Tony’s jet began to take off, the billionaire settling in and pouring himself a drink, no one noticed as a small boy snuck on board.

Chapter Text

Peter had been scared when he’d woken up. The last he remembered was his mummy tucking him into bed, kissing his forehead and whispering goodnight. And then suddenly he was waking up, surrounded by strangers and being told that his mummy wasn’t there.

All Peter wanted was his mummy. And maybe his Aunt Angie if she were around too. But all he had were strangers checking up on him and telling him off when he snuck off around the massive building he now lived in. Miss Hill had been nice, her smile warm as she’d spoken to him but the man with no hair and one eye scared Peter a little. It wasn’t that he wasn’t kind to Peter, it was just that he always had this funny look when he looked at the young boy and it put Peter on edge.

“Miss Hill where is my mummy?” Peter had whispered one night when the woman had helped get him into bed. The room he was staying in wasn’t very cosy with a pull out mattress bed that swamped the young boy and no nightlight to keep him feeling safe. Peter’s mummy had always made sure there was some sort of light in his room, whether via a candle or small lamp.

“I don’t know,” Maria Hill had replied with a sad face. “We don’t know much about you, kid.”

“My name is Peter,” he tried to be helpful, blinking up at her with the widest and most innocent eyes the woman had ever seen. It had melted Maria Hill’s heart right then and there. “And i like reading. And maths. And my mummy.”

“Wow,” Maria Hill had nodded with fake enthusiasm. “That was so helpful Peter, thank you.”

“Will you ever find my mummy?”

“We’re working on it sweetheart,” Maria hadn’t known what else to say as she’d carefully brushed some of the hair out of Peter’s face and left him to sleep in his make-shift room. No one knew anything about Peter— they didn’t know why HYDRA had had him. They didn’t know why he’d been in some sort of containment pod. They didn’t know who his parents had been or where they’d come from (or if they were even alive). It was all a mystery.

That had been 2 days ago.

Peter clutched his bear tightly in his small hands, pressing the cuddly toy deeper and deeper into his embrace. He was afraid that if he let go, he’d lose the teddy all over again. Waking up without Mr Bear had almost been as traumatising as being surrounded by the strangers and not knowing where his mummy was. Mr Bear looked more ragged than Peter last saw him, the fur looking more discoloured now and his Captain America mask looked worn out but Peter still loved him.

“I’ll have another whiskey please,” Peter heard the man with the funny goatee and stylish clothes say to one of the workers. So far no one had noticed Peter’s presence on the jet, the boy pushing himself into a corner and trying to not make much noise.

When he’d seen Mr Bear fall out of the man’s pocket down in that cold storage room, he’d realised that this man could be trusted. His mummy had always said to never trust strangers but this man had had Mr Bear. So how much of a stranger could he be? Peter felt far safer with him than the one eyed man.

And the man had said he was going to New York— Peter hoped he would find his mummy when they got there.

The jet shook a little as it went through some turbulence and Peter couldn’t help the little whimper that escaped his throat. He pressed his face into Mr Bear’s fur and tried to pretend that he was back home with his mummy. Another sob rippled out of his throat as the jet wobbled again, the loud noises of the engines hurting Peter’s ears.

Tony looked up from his glass of amber liquid when the sound of a sob echoed through his jet. His hands clenched the armchair he was sitting on as the jet wobbled slightly, trying not to wince as the sob’s got louder.

Following the source of the noise, Tony couldn’t help but frown as he noticed the small boy curled up in the corner of his jet. It was the same curly haired little boy from SHIELD’s HQ. Great, he thought, the kid must’ve snuck on board.

Tony was in two minds about pretending he never saw the kid or actually belong him, at least with the former he could plead ignorance when SHIELD freaked out about the missing child.

“Uh— what you doing buddy?” Tony called out when the boy whimpered again, his face pressed into Peggy’s ragged old bear toy. All he could see was the boy’s curls but from the sound of it, the poor kid was crying.

“A-are we gonna d-die?” The kid looked up for a second, his face red and tears rolled down his chubby cheeks. Tony wondered why a part of him wanted to scoop the kid up and give him a hug. The boy looked so small curled up in the corner, his face downcast.

“What? No— why do you think that?” He felt awkward standing there in front of the sobbing kid but there wasn’t much else he could do.

“It k-keeps shaking!” Another squeal came out the boy’s mouth as the jet hit turbulence again, making Tony stumble a little.

“This is normal buddy,” Tony sighed, nodding his head to the seats. “You wanna maybe sit down and get strapped in?”

Peter hesitated for a second, looking like he was going to curl in on himself more and refuse before he eventually nodded. He pushed himself up, his lips wobbling as the jet shook again. Mr Bear was held tightly in one hand, Peter’s little fingers going white as he held onto his bear with his life.

Tony sighed again when the turbulence made the kid stumble once again, the boy looking ready to burst into tears as the terror was written on his face. A part of him wanted to turn away and let the kid make it to the chairs himself but one look at the boy’s sad expression and Tony stuck out his hand. Peter latched on tightly, his little fingers curling around Tony’s as he let the man keep him steady as they moved to the plush chairs.

Tony carefully lifted Peter into a chair and strapped him in before sitting adjacent to him. “You got some explaining to do kiddo.”

Peter sniffed, placing his bear in his lap and rubbing at his red eyes. “‘M sorry.”

“For what? Sneaking on board or giving me a heart attack?” Tony rolled his eyes.

The kid just shrugged, looking around the private jet with awe. “Wow!”

“You like it?” Tony smirked, enjoying the boy’s wide eyed expression. Peter nodded his head quickly, his curls bouncing up and down due to his enthusiasm. “Well don’t get too used to it because we’ll be heading back to DC soon.”

“What?” Peter’s eyes were filled with horror for one second before he pouted. “‘M not going back!” He crossed his arms and tilted his head up as if anything he said would stop Tony from having the authoritative final word.

“’Tis not your choice,” Tony tusked, raising his eyebrows. He liked the kid’s fire.

“Please!” Peter cried out. “I don’t wanna go back!”

“And why’s that? I thought you liked that Miss Hill?”

“Miss Hill is super duper nice!” Peter nodded. “Buh i want mummy!”

“Kiddo,” Tony sighed, rolling his eyes. “New York is massive, you have no chance of finding your mother in a city like that without help. The people in DC can help you.”

“You can help!” Peter perked up like he’d just had the best idea in the world.

Yeah, Tony thought, there was no way in hell he was doing that. “No can do kid.”

“Please!”

“I’m a busy man kiddo, i don’t have the time to help you on your backwards Finding Nemo shit.”

Peter gasped. “You swore again!”

Tony groaned, staring at the drink on the side and wondering if it would be bad to finish it off when the kid was watching. Despite his aching desires, he settled on pushing it away. It seemed this child was super sensitive to any kind of ‘bad’ behaviour.

The kid in question turned his head up again, a determined expression crossing his face. Tony tried to remember where he’d seen such a look before because it certainly rung a bell. “If you don’t take me, i’ll tell everyone that you stole me!”

Tony almost choked on the air. Did he hear that right? “What?”

“I’ll tell Mr One Eyed Man that you stole me! He’ll be real mad.”

“What makes you think they’ll believe you?” Tony glared slightly at the tiny child sitting opposite him.

The kid shrugged, “I’m super cool at pre-ten-ding,” he stumbled over the word and Tony couldn’t help but snicker. It was actually kind of adorable how he was being blackmailed by a child.

Tony knew that if he returned back with a crying child in tow, it wouldn’t look that great. Especially if the kid was screaming about being ‘stolen’. He had to hand it to this boy, he was pretty smart for a toddler sized human.

All he had to do was make it through this flight and Tony would be free to call that Fury guy the second they landed. The Director of SHIELD could then send people to come pick up the kid, foiling Peter’s perfect plan of crying about abduction. It was just one flight, Tony decided.

He could do that.

Right?

Chapter Text

They still had one hour left of the flight and Tony was starting to wonder if maybe he should’ve turned the jet around despite the kid’s threats. When he’d caved and promised to take Peter (because that was the kid’s name apparently— he tried to ignore the irony that he’d gone to DC to find Peggy’s Peter and found this one instead) back to New York, the boy had cheered with delight.

And then he’d not stopped talking. Tony was petty sure the kid hadn’t even breathed for 2 minutes straight at one point when he started talking about all his favourite things (his mummy, Mr Bear, nightlights and maths). It had been almost endearing at first before it crossed into annoying. Not even the kid’s bright eyes had dulled the ache in Tony’s chest as it demanded alcohol.

“Mr Stark,” the flirty blonde flight attendant walked over to the pair a little while after the kid had finally passed out on the seat. It seemed talking for so long had tired the poor child out. “We’re landing.”

Tony gave her a smile to show he acknowledged her words. He quickly downed the rest of the amber liquid and sighed as the jolt of the jet reaching the ground didn’t even manage to wake the kid up. The boy was snoring quietly, his head tilted to the side and his tiny lips parted slightly. (It was almost cute Tony had to admit.)

“Oi kid,” Tony shook Peter’s shoulder gently. “Get up, we’re here.”

Peter was out like a light, his eyes remaining shut no matter how loud Tony got in telling him to wake up. After his fourth failed attempt in getting the kid up, Tony let out an annoyed huff. Apparently this kid really was competing for the biggest pain in the ass award today.

“Would you like some assistance?” Another flight attendant was looking at Tony weirdly— no doubt wondering why the hell genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist Tony Stark was travelling with a child in tow.

“I’m good,” Tony grumbled as he ducked down, lifting the boy into his arms. Peter had told him that he was actually 4 years old, which Tony could see now with how small and light the kid was in his arms. It didn’t even strain his back to carry Peter off the jet.

Happy looked like someone had slapped him in the face when he saw his boss walk off his private jet with a sleeping child in his arms. He opened the door for Tony without saying a word but the billionaire could see the confusion and shock written across his face.

“No i did not get myself a kid while i was away,” Tony sighed when they were both sitting in the car. For a brief second, Tony got scared about there not being a carseat for Peter to be safe in before he pushed those thoughts away and just strapped the kid in.

Happy cleared his throat. “You, uhh, could’ve fooled me, Boss.”

Tony rolled his eyes, enjoying his driver’s dry humour. “The kid snuck aboard my jet, i’m calling for his . . . guardians to pick him up when we get back.”

“You didn’t think to turn the jet around and take him back yourself?”

“The kid is surprisingly good at threatening people,” Tony mumbled as he stared out the window. It was nighttime in New York now, all the artificial lights blinding him as they drove through the still busy streets to his Tower. Despite the few hour journey it took to get back, the kid was still fast asleep in the seat beside him when they arrived at Tony’s penthouse.

“Do you want some help Boss?” Happy looked like there were a million things he would rather do than help out but he stuck around anyway.

“No i got this,” Tony sighed as he lifted Peter into his arms again and headed towards the elevator. “Take a few days off Happy, i’ll call if i need anything.”

“Sure thing Boss,” Happy waved before driving off again. Tony wondered how long it would take for his driver to snitch on him to Pepper. Given Happy’s track record, Tony expected an angry call from his PA any second now.

In the end, Tony placed Peter in the bedroom a few doors down from his own. As a bachelor, there weren’t many bedrooms that were being used and it was the most kid friendly one he decided, given the lack of furniture that was actually in the room. The bed swamped the kid as Tony placed him in it, the King Bed looking funny when a tiny 4 year old was placed in the centre of it.

Peter didn’t even flinch or move when Tony pulled the blankets up on him, finally free of the toddler like weight in his arms. He closed the door with little noise, leaving the child covered in darkness before making his way down to the lab.

Technically he had followed through with his promise. Peter was in New York, albeit very briefly. All he had to do was phone this Nick Fury guy, tell him about the kid sneaking on board (and plead ignorance to not knowing the kid was there until they landed) and that he was awaiting people to come and take Peter off his hands.

It was simple.

“Hey J,” Tony called out as he entered the lab. The clock on his screens read that it was 3am in New York currently. Tony guessed that that wasn’t too bad a time to call Fury, was it?

“Welcome back sir,” JARVIS greeted with his usual warmth. “I understand you brought back a guest? I must say he is far more adorable than your other . . . guests.”

Tony smirked at his AI’s boldness. “Can it, J. You still got that Director of SHIELD’s contact?”

“Of course.”

“Give it a ring, would you?” Tony spun around in his chair, knowing that soon he would once again be free of the child in his house and able to revert back to his alcoholic ways without wondering if he was scarring someone for life.

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS paused for a second. “Sir, it seems that your young guest has woken up. He seems to be in distress.”

“What?” Tony frowned, already leaving the lab.

“Should i still call Director Fury?”

“Put a pin in that for a second, J,” Tony growled as he bounded up the stairs. He could Peter’s crying from down the corridor before he eventually reached his room. He knocked gently on the door, the boy’s sobs echoing loudly through the wooden door. “Uh— Kid, you okay?”

Peter was sitting up in the large bed, crying loudly. “B-bad d-dream,” he sniffled, his breath catching.

Ah, Tony cringed. Was he meant to comfort this kid now?

“R-room is too d-dark,” Peter cried again. The closer Tony got he could see just how distressed the poor boy was. Even in the darkness, the tears on Peter’s face was visible and his cheeks were bright red.

“Uh you want me to turn on a light?” Tony made a face, not knowing what the hell he was supposed to do. He really should’ve ignored the boy’s threats and just taken him back to DC when he’d found him because this was out of his comfort zone.

Peter nodded, his breath hitching slightly and his chubby hands moving up to rub at his eyes. Strands of his hair was plastered to his temple where the tears had made them stick. In the slight light of the lamp Tony had turned on by Peter’s bed, the kid looked a complete mess.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Tony groaned as he spotted the wet patch on the sheets and the stain on Peter’s small trousers. This really was out of his comfort zone now.

“You s-swore,” Peter glared, his little pout quivering as he blinked at the sudden change of light in the room.

“You wet the bed,” Tony glared back. He pointed to the yellow patch where Peter had been laying previously.

Peter’s pout disappeared, replaced by a sorry look and fresh tears. “Didn’t m-mean to!”

Tony sighed, his frown dropping. “I know buddy.” He turned to the ceiling. “Hey J, any advice?”

“It would be best to strip the bed, sir,” JARVIS’ soothing voice called out. Peter stared up at the ceiling with awe at the talking AI. “And possibly get the child in some clean clothes.”

“You heard the man kid,” Tony nodded his head to the side so Peter would shuffle off the bed, standing huddled in on himself as Tony began to strip the bed. He pulled back the sheets, leaving them in a pile on the floor for the maid to pick up in the morning.

“Tony, are you mad?” Peter’s voice quivered as Tony helped him to undress with a sour look. They threw the wet clothes onto the sheets pile. “‘C-cause i really d-didn’t mean to!” He shivered, wrapping his small arms around his exposed torso.

Tony decided to take pity on the small human rather than berate him. “No, i’m not mad kiddo. I’m just . . . not used to caring for other people.”

“Oh.”

“I guess we should get you some other clothes huh?” Tony cleared his throat as he scratched the back of his head. It wasn’t like he had a whole collection of children’s clothes to choose from.

“Yes please,” Peter’s voice was so small and polite. Tony couldn’t help but smile at the kid. They walked out of the spare room and down the hall to Tony’s room (Peter stayed closer to Tony through the darkness of the corridor).

“How about this?” Tony suggested a few minutes later when he dug through his drawers for some lazy wear. He pulled out a large ACDC top and a pair of grey jogger bottoms. They were obviously way too large for the boy, with the t-shirt going down to his ankles.

Peter’s eyes sparkled as Tony helped him get into the joggers, lifting one foot up each time as Tony rolled the material up a million times so Peter’s little feet could be seen. He tucked the t-shirt into the joggers so it couldn’t hang so loose.

“Comfy?”

Peter nodded wildly, his curls dancing to their own beat. “Thank you, Tony!”

Tony was about to send him off back to the room they’d come from when he remembered that there were no clean sheets to place on the bed (or at least, he didn’t know where they were as he never made his bed in the morning). With a groan, Tony realised he would have to give up his personal bed for this kid. In all honesty, it wasn’t like he was going to sleep tonight anyway.

“Alright kid,” Tony sighed as he picked the kid up under his arms and placed him in the middle of the large King size bed. The silk sheets swamped Peter yet again and Tony was struck by how weird it was that he currently had a child laying in his bed. “You better not make a mess in this bed, you hear me?”

“I won’t!” Peter squeaked, settling into the sheets. “Promise!”

Tony was about to turn away and walk down to the lab when Peter’s shy voice spoke up again. “Mis’er? Will you please stay with me? I don’t like the dark.” Tears pooled in the kid’s eyes again and Tony knew if he said no, he’d be leaving a child to cry himself to sleep.

“Fine,” he huffed, grabbing one of the chairs in the corner of his room and bringing it by the bed. He’d wait until the kid fell asleep before sneaking off down to the lab.

“Thanks,” Peter’s smile was small as he blinked up at Tony with those wide brown eyes of his. Tony was surprised at how calming it was watching the kid fall asleep, seeing as his breathing evened out and face became a mask of peace. He waited a good 20 minutes before he was sure that Peter wouldn’t wake up and quietly crept out of the room.

“Would you like me to call Director Fury now, sir?” JARVIS asked when Tony stepped back into the lab. The clock on his screens read that it was now nearer to 4am, which was relatively not a good time to call, Tony decided.

“Nah, make a reminder for the morning though.”

“Of course sir.”

Tony sighed, plopping back down in his chair as he spotted the files he’d stolen from SHIELD. He’d meant to read them on the jet but a certain stowaway had tampered that idea. Picking up the files, he had no idea why his heart began to beat so wildly as Tony slowly opened them up.

There wasn’t much information. Just some facts about the kid: he was born 10 August 1946, healthy for his age and a high IQ (Tony’s eyebrows shot to his hairline as he stared at how high this kid’s intelligence level is).

The only details about the abduction were short: the front door was still locked but the window had been opened, the men had not been spotted by Peggy prior to getting drugged, no evidence was left behind and no eye-witnesses claiming to have seen people run off with a boy. Tony now understood why this case had been closed— there was nothing on it. Whoever orchestrated this kidnapping, they’d known what they were doing and how to do it.

It literally was like this poor child had just . . . vanished.

Tony flicked through the paperwork, reading though all of Peggy’s statements and the reports made by the agents who used to work on the case. He whistled at the cost of the investigation and the funding donated (by his father no less).

But nothing. In the 45 years that this case had been open, there hadn’t been even one shred of evidence to help find Peggy’s 59 year old son. No clues. No trails. Not even any names.

Tony threw the files down on his desk in fustration, watching as a single picture fell out onto the floor. He placed his head in his hands and groaned. It was official: there was nothing he could do. Even with his extensive tools and abilities in being able to track people down, there was nothing he could work with. Someone had snuck into Peggy’s apartment 55 years ago, stolen her son and left no trace of who they’d been behind.

How could Tony start a manhunt if he didn’t even have a man to hunt?

He was about to head to the cabinet and pour himself a glass of whiskey when the photo on the floor came back to his attention. Tony crouched down and picked it up, glancing over at it quickly.

He did a double take.

The photo that had been in the files about Peggy’s son’s abduction was the exact same one she’d had on her bedside table at the hospital. The black and white shot showed the same 4 year old kid he’d seen at Peggy’s bedside, with the same chubby cheeks and curly locks.

And it was the exact same child currently sleeping in his bedroom right now.

Tony felt like the air had been punched out of him as he raced up the stairs to his bedroom. It felt eerily like a horror movie as he crept into the plush room, turning the lamp on as he went. Without realising, Tony began to hold his breath as he placed the black and white photo of Peggy’s son up to the sleeping child.

They were the exact same.

The same chubby cheeks, same shape of the face and eyes, the same curve of the lips.

Peter was Peter.

“Hey J,” Tony pressed himself against the wall as he backed out of the bedroom so he didn’t wake the child (who was Peggy Carter’s MISSING son— how? how?) “Call Director Fury; he has a lot of explaining to do.”

Chapter Text

“What the hell are you phoning for at 1am Stark?” Fury yelled down the phone when it finally connected. The lab doors were shut, Tony having barricaded himself off from the child upstairs. “What the hell is so important?”

“You lied.”

“Excuse me?” Fury huffed, his voice still full of anger.

Tony took a deep breath, trying to clear his thoughts. In all honesty he was freaking out a little (a lot) here. He’d come to the mind-altering conclusion that Peter was Peggy’s lost son yet it made no sense. Peggy’s Peter should be 59 not an adorable 4 year old.

“You lied. When i went to see you, you told me you had no information about Peggy’s son. You said the case was closed.”

He really thought he was going to throw up. The thoughts just kept circling round in his head and every time he came to the same conclusion, his brain would smack him silly and yell something about doppelgängers. But it never sat right in his gut.

“Stark, we’ve had this conversation. I don’t know if i can be clearer when i say—“

“He’s here with me now.” Tony tried to ignore how his voice wobbled a bit. He honestly felt like he’d just seen a ghost.

“What?”

“The kid— Peter— he’s here with me now.”

“Wait— you have the boy? The one my agents have been searching all night for? And you what, kidnapped him? Stark?”

“The kid snuck aboard my jet,” Tony growled, tired of playing games now. “He snuck aboard and i didn’t realise until we landed.”

“And you’re saying that little Peter who SHOULD be in DC is Agent Carter’s son? Have you heard yourself, Stark?”

“The resemblance is uncanny,” Tony mumbled. The wave of nausea was back as he looked at the black and white photo on the side.

“The boy is 4 years old. We’re trying to locate his parents as we speak.”

“His mother is in England.”

“I don’t know what you’ve been drinking, Stark, but this needs to end. The boy is not Agent Carter’s son. Sharing the same name doesn’t make two people alike.”

“I’m not drunk!” Tony yelled. God, he was thankful for the soundproof glass right now. The last thing he needed was Peter waking him up and seeing Tony look like a ghost.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I have a picture of Peggy’s son here with me and i’m telling you Fury, they’re the same person!”

“You ever heard of a doppelgänger?” Fury sighed down the phone. It was 1am back in DC and the entire HQ had been running around in circles trying to find the little boy that had been in their care for less than a week. And then he receives this ridiculous call from Tony Stark . . . Fury honestly wasn’t in the mood for the games right now.

“This isn’t a joke,” Tony snapped.

“Let me clear this up: our Peter snuck aboard your jet, travelled to God-Knows-Where with you and you’re claiming that he’s actually a 59 year old man in a 4 year olds body? Does that sum up your assumptions, Stark?”

“When you put it like that, you make it sound crazy,” Tony pulled a face as he mumbled the words.

Fury sighed heavily down the phone. “All of it is crazy!”

“You have to trust me on this!”

“I don’t have to trust shit, Stark,” Fury growled, obviously at the end of his patience. “I’m sending agents to pick up the boy now, i suggest you find another person to push your concerns onto because i’ve had enough. End call.”

The line went dead. “Asshole,” Tony yelled, throwing his phone to the other side of the lab in his rage. His ‘concerns’ weren’t crazy— okay, they were a little crazy. But Tony knew them to be true. He didn’t know how and he didn’t know why but he was sure that Peter was Peggy’s son.

Looking back on it now, the determination the boy had displayed on the jet was one hundred percent Peggy Carter. The way he smiled was the same way Peggy had looked at Tony when he’d visited her in the hospital. And the kid’s eyes . . . Tony wasn’t sure how he hadn’t realised earlier.

“Sir, may i suggest that you relieve your frustrations with the paperwork Miss Potts emailed to you this morning?” JARVIS spoke up, helpful as always.

“No, i think i’ll tinker instead.” Tony headed over to the car in the corner of his workshop, carrying on where he’d left off. It was soothing working on a car, there was something about his hands getting busy doing the mechanical work that cleared his mind. All thoughts about Peter and SHIELD floated out of his thoughts as he focused on the engine he was currently taking apart and then putting back together.

He was halfway through resembling the car’s engine for the third time when JARVIS spoke up for the first time in hours.

“Sir, a young boy is requesting entry to the lab.”

Tony frowned, head shooting up to see Peter standing outside the glass door. His face was smooshed up against the glass, his lips pressed flat as they moved in circles to leave a sloppy trail on Tony’s door. The boy’s pudgy fingers were wrapped around his boy bear, the teddy hanging limply in his grip.

“Don’t do that,” Tony berated the kid as he let the glass door slide open. Peter stumbled forwards slightly, only to be caught by one of Tony’s hands. It was slightly unnerving now that he knew (because Tony was sure his gut wasn’t lying) about Peter’s true parentage and the longer he stared at the boy’s face, Peggy’s smilier features shining through, Tony wasn’t sure how he hadn’t spotted it sooner. The kid was the spitting image of his mother.

“What’re you doing up?” Tony cleared his throat as he moved back over to the car, letting Peter trail behind him in childlike wonder.

“I woke up,” Peter stated simply.

“You should be in bed.”

“But it’s the morning!” Peter sounded confused, picking up one of Tony’s tools only for the man to take it out of his grip and place it back where it was found.

“J?” Tony frowned up at the ceiling. The last he’d known it was 4 in the morning; it had only felt like half an hour had passed not several hours.

“It is currently 8am, sir,” JARVIS cleared up.

“Whoa! Whose that?” Peter was staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes and wonder.

“That is J,” Tony went back to his work. It wasn’t the first time he’d spent several hours in the lab without realising. “He kinda runs this whole joint.”

“He lives in your roof?” Peter waved up at the ceiling, mouth wide open as he continued to look up.

“Not exactly; J is an AI.” Peter gave Tony a weird look, conveying that he had no idea what was being said. “He helps me but he isn’t real.” It was a simplistic way of dealing with it and Tony couldn’t be asked to delve into AI tech right now.

“Like an imaginary friend?”

No, Tony wanted to say. “Sure.”

“Cool! Hi J,” Peter waved again, his pudgy hands thrashing back and forth with gusto.

“Hello young sir,” JARVIS spoke back with politeness. Peter beamed before turning his attention back to Tony.

“Whatcha doing?”

“I’m putting a car engine back together,” Tony didn’t look up from the car as he spoke, making quick work of the bits and pieces he needed to fit together. He’d done this so many times now it was like clockwork.

“Why?”

“Because i want to.”

“Why?”

“I like it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know kid, you got any better questions to ask?”

Peter paused, looking like he was mulling the question over. Tony shot him a look, one eyebrow raised, before the kid shrugged. “Nope.”

“I’ve got a question for you,” Tony put one of his tools down, giving Peter a serious look. “You want to tell me something about you?”

“Like what?” Peter frowned, rocking back and forth on his heels with energy only a child could have in the morning.

“Tell me about your mom,” Tony suggested, trying his best not to get weirded out. He needed to know these details to figure out if his assumptions were true.

“My mummy is the best.”

“What was her name?”

“Is,” Peter glared, bottom lip sticking out. “My mummy is called mummy.”

“But what was her real name?”

“Mummy?” Peter gave Tony a no-nonsense look (which was definitely inherited from Peggy).

“And you lived in New York?”

Peter nodded, his messy curls flopping back and forth. They were all tangled in his bedhead, giving the kid a crazy rocker sort of vibe. “Brooklyn! My mummy said daddy used to live there.”

Tony hummed, not really paying attention. “Hey JARVIS, why don’t you show little Peter here where the kitchen is so he can get himself something to eat.”

“JARVIS?” Peter frowned. “Like mummy’s friend?”

It was like the air had been punched out of his stomach, leaving Tony with the feeling akin to a head-rush. Had he heard that right? Surely, he couldn’t? Was this the proof he needed?

“What did you say?” His voice was light and soft, the tone almost unbelieving.

“JARVIS— like my mummy’s friend. He’s super tall but so friendly. He’s a but-erler.”

“A butler,” Tony mumbled, correcting the boy’s pronunciation. “You knew Edwin Jarvis?” Peter just nodded his head again, already bounding off to the door. “Wait,” Tony called out before the kid could disappear. “I’ll help you with breakfast.”

As he approached the young boy by the door, Peter slid his hand into Tony’s with a smile. “That’s good, i’ve never made my own breakfast before.”

Tony just nodded, trying to quell the happy feeling that blossomed in his chest at Peter’s tiny hand in his own. The kid knew Jarvis— his Jarvis. If that wasn’t proof, he wasn’t sure what else there could be.

———————

“Chocolate chip pancakes?” Tony called out after raiding his food supply. “That sound good, kiddo?”

Peter nodded from where he was sitting on one of the counters, swinging his legs over the edge and kicking the cupboards underneath him with a loud clang each time. “My fav-er-ite!”

Tony just chuckled as he began mixing the ingredients, completely ignoring the recipe and just throwing in as much flour and sugar as he could. He cracked a few eggs before continuing his mixing. As long as it tasted good, he didn’t care much about the recipe. Rules were for goody-two-shoes anyway.

He was just about to pour some of the batter onto the pan, smiling at the sound of Peter singing Row Row Row Your Boat at the top of his lungs, when their fun and games was cut off by JARVIS.

“Sir, SHIELD has arrived.”

“Let them in,” Tony sighed, putting the batter down. He’d hoped to feed the boy before SHIELD came to whisk him away but it seemed they’d foiled that plan.

Peter hopped down from the counter, eyes wide with an under layer of fear showing in his brown orbs. “W-what? Whose that?” He walked closer to Tony, one of his rolled up trouser legs coming undone slightly so his left foot wasn’t visible. Peter gripped onto Tony’s pant leg, looking up at him with complete trust. “Whose coming?”

“Uhh,” Tony cringed, not knowing what to say just as five SHIELD agents came round the corner. They were all dressed in black, guns attached to their belts and stoic faces giving nothing away. No wonder the kid was kinda terrified of these people, Tony berated himself. Peter hid behind Tony’s legs as Nick Fury came to stand in front of the 5 agents; he looked slightly angry with a frown on his face and a disinterested look as he surveyed the scene before him.

“You cooking, Stark?” Fury gave him an incredulous look. It wasn’t hard to realise that the Director of SHIELD obviously believed all the rumours that Tony Stark was heartless. The look written on his face said it all.

“Was trying to,” Tony rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure why but he felt sort of protective over the kid cowering behind him. Peter was gripping Tony’s pant leg in a vice grip, his face smushed up against the side of Tony’s thigh as he tried to hide from the people before him.

“Hi Peter,” a woman with brown hair tied up behind her head, spoke softly. She had a kind face with attractive features, her smile welcoming and warm as she leant forward slightly.
“Hi Miss Hill,” Peter’s voice was barely audible and Tony placed a hand on the kid’s mop of bedhead when he squeezed the pant leg even tighter. It was probably quite nerve racking for the child to be faced with a one eyed pirate looking man and his 5 goons who each had weapons on their belts.

“You want to come over here, sweetheart?” She beckoned him over gently, nodding to encourage him. Peter just buried his face further into Tony’s legs.

“It seems you have a fan,” Fury sighed, his voice dry. He gave Tony another unimpressed look. “But we need to get this show on the road.” He turned to the Miss Hill lady. “You get the kid and i’ll have a chat with Stark.”

“Come on Peter,” the Miss Hill lady stepped closer, ignoring Peter’s whimper. She carried on getting closer, her hand reaching out and just as Tony was about to bark at her to move away, Fury spoke up.

“Stark— you wanted to chat?”

“I thought you said my assumptions were crazy.”

“Let’s just say that crazy ain’t always wrong. You have 3 minutes to convince me.”

Tony sighed, ducking down to Peter’s level. He brushed a strand of hair out of Peter’s face (before realising how paternal that was and cringed), giving the kid a serious look. “I need to talk to this man, bud. You need to let go.”

Peter shook his head. His eyes were wide and Tony was struck by the impression of a deer in headlights. “Don’t go.” The kid’s voice was more like a whimper and for some reason, it broke Tony’s heart.

And then he remembered he didn’t have a heart (or at least that was what he was told). “I have to kid. I’ll be back.”

“They’ll take me,” Peter stared uneasily at the agents. “I just want my mummy.”

“That’s what i’m talking to Mr Pirate for; you need to let me go so i can talk to him.”

“You promise you won’t let them take me?”

Objectively, Tony knew that SHIELD would have to take Peter back. They were the ones who found him and they were far more qualified to care for him than Tony was. Tony could barely even look after himself, let alone a kid.

At the end of the day, Tony was an alcoholic billionaire who spent his money on booze and women. His life wasn’t exactly a child-friendly zone and whilst the short time he’d spent with Peter had been refreshing, there was no indication that Tony could last caring for this boy longer than a week. Or even two days.

So SHIELD would one hundred percent have to take Peter back with them. No doubt about it. Despite knowing this, the look Peter was giving him full of hopefulness and trust, it made Tony feel like the lowest piece of shit on the Earth to turn him away.

So he lied. “Sure, buddy.”

Peter nodded, satisfied with the answer. “Okay,” he slowly let go of Tony’s pant leg and took a tentative step towards Maria Hill who just smiled at him in return.

“Well, come on Stark,” Fury growled. “Not all of us have time to waste.”

As Tony led the Director of SHIELD down towards his lab and awaiting files, he snuck one last glance at Peter. The kid was watching him go with a slightly glassy look, something sad in his expression.

Tony wondered if Peter, with his genius level IQ, knew that Tony was lying to him. God, Tony really did feel like the lowest piece of shit on the Earth.

Chapter Text

Fury didn’t look impressed as he stared down at the black and white photograph of Peggy’s son Peter. He gave Tony a look that screamed ‘seriously?’

“This your evidence? A 55 year old photo?”

Tony scoffed, waving a hand out towards the photo. “Tell me that boy in that picture doesn’t look like the one currently upstairs!”

Fury looked back at the picture, going silent for a few seconds. He placed the photograph back in the file before turning back to Tony with his hands on his hips. “You’re not giving me any proof here, Stark. I let you have your say and you just give me speculation.”

“The fact that you are even letting me continue on this assumption means you think i have a leg to stand on,” Tony replied with a cocky grin. Fury immediately returned the words with a cold glare.

“Perhaps this was a mistake, you clearly have no concrete proof for me to act upon.”

Tony huffed as Fury started to walk away. This was his one chance to prove his theory and he was blowing it. He watched as the Director made it to the lab’s door when a thought struck him.

“Hey JARVIS,” Tony called out to the ceiling, giddiness filling him. “You can run facial recognition to see if two people share similar features, yes?”

“I have the programmed data, yes,” the AI replied immediately. Fury paused at the door, looking back with a clouded expression. This was obviously Tony’s last chance of proving what he knew to be true.

“Run a facial similarities test between the kid upstairs and Peggy Carter.”

Fury walked closer as Tony’s screen lit up, a picture of Peter’s face taken seconds ago from the camera’s upstairs appearing beside an old photograph of Peggy in her youth. Even side by side, Tony could see the similarities. Same face shape, eye colour and nose. At this point, there wasn’t even a doubt in Tony’s head (it was just filled with the question of how).

“I hope for your sake that this comes back positive,” Fury mumbled as JARVIS completed the scan. Everything was silent for a few minutes until the AI finished the test.

“I have concluded the test with a 98.99% positive match on young Peter and Agent Carter.”

“What does that mean, J,” Tony looked at Fury, trying to keep his cocky behaviour to a minimum. The last thing he needed was to piss Fury off enough to discredit his results.

“That young Peter and Agent Carter have extreme chances of being primarily related due to their facial similarities.”

“Doppelgänger’s could pass as twins,” Fury growled, looking away from the screen with an annoyed huff. “What am i meant to do with this?”

“Do a DNA test!” Tony half yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. He was tired of the mind games now— there was no way to prove Peter was related to Peggy except through biological evidence. “You and i both know it will come out as positive.”

“SHIELD doesn’t keep ex Agent’s DNA on hand,” Fury glared.

“I’ll go visit Peggy and swipe some of her hair,” Tony rolled his eyes. “It isn’t rocket science— which i can do by the way!”

“The boy will be coming back to DC with us in the mean time.”

The words left a nasty feeling run wild in Tony’s stomach. Obviously, SHIELD would take back Peter but after his lie of a promise, Tony knew it wasn’t going to go down well. But he had to get the DNA from Peggy to prove his theory.

“Deal,” Tony held out his hand to which Fury shook in one smooth motion. The nasty feeling only grew when they went back upstairs, watching as Fury nodded towards the agents to move back to the jet they’d come in.

“Come on Peter,” Maria Hill held out her hand for Peter to take but the boy just ran back to Tony, his chubby fists once again curling around his pant leg. “Peter?”

“I’m staying here,” Peter’s voice sounded unsure but he refused to let go of Tony’s clothes.

“Peter, don’t you want to come back to DC? You had so much space to play, remember?” Maria spoke as softly as she could, ignoring the agents’ annoyed faces as they got held up in leaving because of the kid. She stepped closer but Peter just hid behind Tony’s legs. “Can you?” Maria gave Tony a pointed look.

“Hey buddy,” Tony ducked down again so he was at eye-level with Peter.

“You promised,” Peter whispered, his brown eyes wide and full of tears like he knew what Tony was about to say. “You said you won’t let them take me.”

Tony cringed, the nasty feeling doubling in size until he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. It festered, like worms devouring his insides as Peter’s eyes continued to burn through his skull. Tony wasn’t exactly sure why it hurt so bad to see such sadness written across Peter’s face; he was meant to be a billionaire playboy who didn’t have a heart. So why was this kid making his conscience have a field day?

“Buddy—“

Peter unattached himself from Tony’s leg, pushing away so there was a bit of space between them. Realisation dawned on his face and tears began to pool in the kid’s eyes. “You fibbed!”

“No buddy,” Tony shook his head, cringing as he felt all the SHIELD agents and Fury staring at them. “I didn’t—“

“You’re letting them take me!” Peter sobbed, the tears rolling down his increasingly red cheeks. He kept backing away, shaking his head. His little face scrunched up in pain. “You fibbed. Tony, you’re a fibber.”

Tony Stark had done many asshole-ish things, he’d broken many hearts and treated numerous people like shit. He’d used his wealth to get out of millions of situations and flashed all his materialistic items to gain bragging rights. He threw parties left, right and centre with no care for who turned up or who he slept with. For Tony’s entire life, he’d only ever had to look out for himself and letting other people came as a part of that.

This, Tony decided as he watched Peter stumbled back into one of the SHIELD agents by accident, was the worst thing he’d ever done. Peter’s crying wasn’t subduing and one of the agents, a man with blonde hair and a slight scowl, just picked the kid up in attempt to get him to leave.

Peter kicked wildly in his grip, screaming louder and louder as Fury rubbed his forehead. “Let the boy go!” He snapped at the agent but the man didn’t comply.

“The boy won’t leave if we don’t physically remove him,” the agent yelled over Peter’s wails, his thrashing in the man’s grip doing nothing to free him.

“He doesn’t want to go!” Tony practically yelled, a fire growing in his chest as he saw the pain in Peter’s face.

“We have a deal Stark,” Fury reminded him, already walking off. “I expect to see you in DC in a short amount of days.”

The rest of the agents followed Fury out of the door and to the landing pad where their jet awaited. Peter’s crying become more distant until it was completely gone, leaving Tony’s penthouse with an eery feeling. It felt like he was treading on eggshells now he walked around his apartment, the ghost of a small boy haunting the halls.

Tony downed all of the amber liquid he had stored in his lab, the burn that travelled down his throat to his stomach doing nothing to ease the pain he felt in his heart.

——————

Pepper’s name appeared on Tony’s phone, along with her SI standard picture, just as he was about to board his jet on the way to England. It had been exactly one day since Peter had practically been ripped from Tony’s New York penthouse kicking and screaming and all he wanted to do was uphold his side of the deal with Fury as soon as possible. The sooner he got a few strands of Peggy’s hair, the sooner he could fly to DC and be reunited with Peter.

Even as the warmth filled his chest thinking about it, Tony still had no idea what kind of hold Peter had on him. He should be cheerful that the 4 year old boy was removed from his care not filled with immense guilt. Having a kid meant saying goodbye to his party lifestyle and bringing women home every weekend.

Why did those thoughts no longer appeal to him or fill him with joy?

“What is it, Miss Potts?” Tony cleared his throat, staring at the jet awaiting his presence for its long journey to England. He tried to sound like he wasn’t doing something behind Pepper’s back.

Of course that failed. “What the hell are you doing?” Pepper half shrieked down the phone. She’d stuck by him through almost everything and Tony was starting to wonder if he was somehow toeing the line now.

“I don’t know what you are possibly on about Miss Potts.”

“Don’t you play that,” Pepper growled, her annoyance was as clear as day. “Happy finally spilled the beans about you bringing home a child the other night! And now you have the Stark Industries jet on standby? You have a board meeting in 20 minutes! Obadiah is expecting you!”

Screw Obie, Tony huffed down the phone. Peter was more important— Tony hadn’t been able to sleep all night thinking about his tear stained face and devastated expression.

“Tell Obie i’ll be late,” he nodded to the pilot of the jet, holding up one hand to signify he’d only be 5 more minutes.

“How late?” Pepper’s voice lowered to a threatening tone.

“Possibly so late i won’t be able to make it.”

“Tony!”

“Pepper!” Tony yelled back in the same tone. “I have things to do!”

“Oh like what, Mr Stark?”

That made him pause. Did he tell Pepper, his trusted assistant, the craziest assumption he’d ever come up with. He doubted he could tell his PA that he’d found a 4 year old boy who he was sure was actually 59 years old without her calling bullshit.

“I’m going to see Aunt Peggy.”

“But the board meeting!”

“Family comes first Pep; Ohana and all that bullshit.”

Pepper groaned down the phone. “And what about the child?”

Tony shrugged. “He was a kid of a friend.”

“And he was with you because?”

“I was asked to temporarily look after him,” Tony knew Pepper could see through his lies but she didn’t call him out on it.

“Tony,” Pepper’s voice lowered in a worried way. “You are being careful right? All this erratic behaviour— it isn’t something i should be concerned with?”

He frowned, watching as the pilot started getting annoyed with how long Tony was taking on the phone (it wasn’t like he was paying his salary or anything). Did Pepper have reason to be concerned? Sure, Tony was acting irrationally, flying from England to DC to New York to England again but he had reason to. It still struck him as rather odd that his reason was Peter. Plain and simple, that little kid was why he was bending over backwards and flying from country to country in the space of a few days.

There was something about that kid, the way he smiled and his childlike giggles that gripped at Tony’s non-existent heart.

“No Pep,” he sighed down the phone even though he wasn’t one hundred percent sure that he wasn’t lying.

“And this child won’t become a potential lawsuit?”

Not unless Fury wants the public to know he found a young boy literally taken out of his time. Tony was sure those conspiracy theorists who’d spent years making up possibilities on what had happened to little missing Peter from the 1950s would have a field day.

“Nope.”

“I’ll cover your ass for Obadiah,” Pepper related, sounding more weary than he’d ever heard her. And this was why she was his best assistant.

“You’re the best Pepper,” Tony yelled down the phone as he began to walk up the stairs to his jet. He ignored the flight attendants wandering eyes and sultry smirks as he got seated.

“Don’t forget it,” Pepper growled before hanging up the phoning. When he got back, Tony knew he was going to be in so much trouble. Obie would have his head for missing the meeting, Pepper would be insufferable about his recent absences and Rhodey would probably just jump on the bandwagon of crucifying Tony Stark so he could throw his own two cents in.

But then Peter’s crying face entered his mind again, the boy’s arms flailing about as he’d begged to be let down because he didn’t want to go. The image circled around his head each time one of the flight attendants tried to flirt with him or each time he thought about work. It was a gnawing reminder that his asshole ways had ended up hurting such a small and innocent person.

Peter deserved better than Tony, he deserved a proper family and someone to dote on him in the way emotionally constipated Tony Stark couldn’t. Peter deserved the world and all Tony did was destroy things. It wasn’t a coincidence he was called the Merchant of Death, in fact—

“Mr Stark?” The blonde flight attendant with the tight smile and lip fillers, tapped Tony on the shoulder gently. “We’ve landed, sir.”

Tony shook his head, wondering how he could’ve spaced out for the entirety of a 12 hour flight. The weather outside was sunny with England just hitting the afternoon mark. Tony couldn’t help but stretch as he stumbled out the jet into the afternoon heat.

“I’m ready to leave whenever you are, Mr Stark,” the non-Happy driver had a thick English accent. Tony nodded at him before shuffling into the car, beginning their journey to Peggy’s apartment.

Ever since she was cleared from the hospital, Peggy had returned to her small residence in London. It was a cosy flat with only one bedroom and elderly decorations but Tony liked it. It was a refreshing taste from the grandeur wealth Howard had trademarked every Stark residence with.

“Anthony?” Peggy smiled as she opened the door to her flat, the wrinkles around her lips crinkling. “What are you doing here?”

Tony walked into her flat, helping Peggy return to her spot in an old chair as her frail body struggled to shuffle towards it. “I came to see my Aunt Peggy— that isn’t illegal is it?”

“Oh be quiet,” Peggy rolled her eyes. “Would you like something to drink?”

Tony was in two minds about asking for something with vodka. “No thanks. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been better, i must admit. The hospital cleared me but they’re telling me to be more careful.” She scoffed, folding her hands in her lap as she smiled at him. Her white hair was as immaculate as always. Tony couldn’t help but shiver as he looked into her brown eyes, only seeing Peter when he looked at them.

“Now don’t lie to me Anthony,” Peggy gave him a no-nonsense look. “What did you really come for?”

It wasn’t like he could really spit out the truth to her. ‘Oh we found your long lost son, Aunt Peggy! Peter’s great— a super adorable kid! Did i forget to mention that 55 years has passed and the kid is still only 4 years old?’ Tony shook his head, knowing that even if he did admit the truth, Peggy would kill him for the bluntness.

“I actually want to ask for some advice.”

“Then you came to the right place.”

Tony took in a deep breath, pausing for one second as he tried to clear his thoughts. He didn’t even truly know where to begin or what to say. All he knew was that a couple of days ago he met Peter and now he can’t get the kid out of his head and whenever he thought of him, this guilt would rise up with the desire to protect the boy.

“Why do you think Howard was such a shitty father?” The words tumbled out of his lips before Tony even knew what he’d said. Peggy gave him a shocked look, her eyebrows rising up at the bluntness of the question.

“Excuse me?”

“I know Howard was your friend and you might disagree that he wasn’t a—“

“Oh Howard was a shitty father,” Peggy agreed, nodding. “No doubt about it. I’ve just never heard that fact be so bluntly addressed. Everyone normally just skirts around the subject.”

Tony couldn’t help the panic that rose up in his chest at feeling so exposed, the conversation heading towards dangerous territories for feelings soon.

“Anthony,” Peggy sighed. It was clear she was struggling with how to voice her thoughts. “Howard was a complicated man— this everyone knows. Affection didn’t come easily for him. He let his money, pride and ambition become a wall between most people so he could shield himself away from the prospect of betrayal or genuine hurt. I think losing Steve all those years ago almost drove him insane. When he wasn’t funding the search for my Peter, he was looking for Steve.

Being a father wasn’t natural for Howard and God bless his soul, no matter how hard he tried, he never managed to hit the mark. But he tried.”

“I don’t really see how locking himself in his study to drink and spending every waking moment at work is trying,” Tony bit back, pulling a face.

Peggy sighed again, her shaking hands coming up to move a strand of hair from her face. “Like i said, Howard built walls. He wasn’t one for cuddles and quality time— he worked so hard so that you could have a good future, Anthony. He wasn’t perfect but he did care about you.”

“Sometimes i get afraid that i’m going to end up like him,” the confession was quiet but it seemed to echo around the small living room. Tony looked down at his hand, a redness beginning to grow around his cheeks.

Peggy stood up, her wobbly legs shuffling over to sit beside Tony on the sofa. One of her cold hands reached out and rested on Tony’s own. “You are your own person, Anthony. Sharing the same genetics doesn’t mean that you will end up like Howard. You are both very different people.”

“Really?” Tony scoffed. He tried to ignore the intense feeling around his eyes as he tried not to let his emotions seep through. “Because i think the alcoholism, womanising behaviour and asshole ways is very much on par with Howard Stark.”

“Anthony,” Peggy snapped. “We both know those things are just fillers. There is a void in you that is demanding to be fed and rather than sit down and find something long lasting to give you joy, you look for the little pleasures. You need to stop pretending that you don’t have a heart.”

“I don’t—“

“Bullshit.”

Tony sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. It was time to come clean. “There’s this kid. . .”

“Yours?”

“No, he’s . . . a friends. But i don’t think my friend can really care for him. Something in me tells me to step up.”

“So why don’t you?”

“Because . . . I’m me; i’m not a good role model. The kid deserves better.”

Peggy sighed. “The fact that you care, Anthony, makes you better.” They sit in silence for a while, Tony basking in his thoughts and Peggy watching him with ease. It feels safe despite spewing his thoughts to her. Tony likes the way the silence envelops them, the air around them warm and comfortable. He likes the domesticity of just sitting next to someone without needing to please them. It’s a far cry from the loud parties and obnoxious company.

When Tony leaves, he feels as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. The demons that racked his brain, spreading doubt and fear, felt slight eased as Peggy gives him a hug goodbye. She gives him a look, her no-nonsense attitude being conveyed through her eyes. She tells him to do what he needs to do. Be something more than just a billionaire who touched the surface of life.

“You have a hair out of place,” he mumbles, lifting up a hand to brush some of her hair back. As gently as he could he plucks a strand or two out, curling the hair up in his fist so he doesn’t loose it.

“What a charmer,” Peggy chuckles before sobering. She places a hand on his cheek, smiling sadly. “I expect you to take something from our chat. I would hate for you to ignore my wise words.”

Tony chuckles, already heading out towards the car where the non-Happy driver is waiting. “I would never do that!”

“We’ll see,” Peggy waves to him, her thin frame leaning on the door with a happy smile on her face.

Just as Tony was about to get into the car, sunglasses perched on his face in his usual manner, he turned to Peggy one last time. “Next time i see you, there will be someone i want you to meet!”

He leaves before she can saying anything.

Chapter Text

“You have him trapped in there like an animal? What the hell is wrong with you?” Tony growled as he stood on the other side of the one-way glass with Fury, watching Peter play with toys in his small room. The kid looked subdued, rolling a plastic car on the floor with little emotion.

“Calm down Stark, he isn’t locked in there,” Fury rolled his eye. Tony had only been in DC for less than half an hour but in that time he’d marched right up to Fury, handed over the several strands of Peggy’s hair for testing and caused a scene in arguing to see Peter.

“It still doesn’t feel right considering you have a one-way window to watch the poor kid,” Tony crossed his arms and continued to watch Peter’s bored expression. The room the kid was in was small, with one bed and only a handful of toys. SHIELD had changed Peter out of the clothes Tony had given him but the ACDC top was left laying on the bed in a folded lump.

“He refused to part from it,” Fury told him when Tony commented about the shirt. “Kid’s been kinda glum since you’ve been gone.”

“Since you took him from me you mean.”

“Since you let us take him,” Fury raised his eyebrows at Tony’s angry tone. They were currently waiting on the DNA results, SHIELD’s science team being able to provide the truth about Peter’s parentage in only a few short hours. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown a heart, Stark.”

Tony didn’t reply, instead opting to just continue watching Peter. Peggy had said that just simply caring meant he was a better person. But would a better person allow for this to happen? A 4 year old kid thrown into some top-secret Government branch like place where he can monitored through a one-way window. Tony knew that Peter deserved better.

“You got anything new on him?” Tony hummed, turning away from the window so he didn’t have to see Peter’s sad face anymore. They all knew that the reason the kid was so glum was because Tony had broken his promise.

Fury whistled, nodding his head towards his office. Tony followed him in silence, a frown growing on his face as they entered the office. Fury closed the door before taking up his seat at the desk. “It’s a doozy, Stark. You sure you’re ready for this?”

“Hit me.”

“We took blood samples,” Fury nodded, pulling out some medical files from his drawer and placing them in front of Tony to see.

“And?”

“Nothing,” Fury leaned in his chair and shrugged.

“What do you mean nothing? There’s a kid who is potentially 59 years old in a 4 year olds body and you’re telling me nothing about his blood looks suspicious?”

“Not one thing. We were expecting a possible age regression serum in his blood stream or maybe even some super soldier serum but . . . nothing.”

“Then how the hell is he still 4 years old?”

“When my agents first found the kid, he was in some sort of containment chamber. It was odd but the detail was overlooked,” Fury sighed. “Looking back now, there is a high possibility that the kid was in a cyrostasis chamber.”

“You’re saying his kidnappers froze him to what . . . preserve him.”

“Do i look like HYDRA, Stark? I can’t answer that. I’m just saying that it is all we have to work on.”

“It would explain how the kid looks like he was literally plucked out of the 1950s,” Tony sighed, rubbing his forehead.

A buzz sounded over Fury’s intercom, his assistant’s voice speaking loud and clear. “Sir, Maria Hill is requesting to see you. She says it is urgent.”

“Send her in,” Fury replied before giving Tony a look. “I’m guessing the results are in.”

Maria Hill walked through the large office doors, a grim look on her face as she stood before the desk with a file held in her hand. Her knuckles were going white with how hard she was holding the paper, her jaw clenched so tightly that Tony wondered if any second she was going to snap it.

“The results came in,” the brunette placed the papers down on the table, shooting Fury a look as she tilted her head towards where Tony sat. The elder, bald man just shook his head slightly, making her back down.

“And?” Tony piped up. The frustration was building now as he watched Fury read over the results, his face giving nothing away. There was no twitch to his mouth or slight frown. Just complete impassiveness and it was driving Tony insane.

Fury closed the file, placing it down on his desk with no emotion. He lent back his seat again, eyes roaming over Tony like he was trying to figure out a difficult puzzle. “A match,” his normally gruff voice came out softer than usual. “The boy is Agent Carter’s son.”

“So i was right,” Tony couldn’t but be smug, letting a smirk slide onto his face as he turned to give Maria a wink. The woman just glared back.

“Don’t start, Stark,” Fury pointed at him in a threatening way. “Now, now you know the truth: what are you planning to do, Stark?”

The question stumped him. What was Tony going to do? He’d proven that Peter was Peggy’s son just like he’d known so basically his mission was over. He’d found Peggy’s son just like he’d promised to do when he’d first heard about Peter in that English hospital. What more could he do? His story and involvement in this case was over now.

Right?

Tony cleared his throat, ignoring Fury’s question. “What are you planning to do with the kid now?”

“I don’t know, not much we can do.” Fury sighed, pressing his palms together as he leant back. He looked more bored with this conversation now. They’d all known that Peter really was Peggy’s son, the DNA results just made it official.

“What do you mean? He’s a kid— are you going to find him a home? He can’t exactly go back to Peggy; she’s 84 years old!”

“Stark, we’ll handle it,” Fury growled, shooting Maria a quick look. Something uneasy settled in Tony’s stomach as he let his brain go into overdrive. Peter was unique, that Tony knew, but Fury didn’t see the kid as a creative, adventurous and fun spirit like the billionaire. He saw Peter as a potential lab experiment, a child who’d been taken out of his time and survived cyrostasis at such a young age. If Peter’s kidnappers had perfected the art of freezing something and being able to hold them in the same physical state for several decades, then no wonder Fury wanted to look into it as much as possible. It just sucked that the only way of looking into it was in a 4 year old.

“Of course,” Tony nodded, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest. Bile was rising up in his throat as he thought of all the ways SHIELD would have to gather evidence on the kid about his 55 year experience in ice. They’d already done blood tests on poor Peter and Tony tried not to think how the child had reacted to cold scientists sticking him with a needle. “I guess i’ll be leaving now.”

“We do appreciate your help, Stark,” Fury called just as Tony was about to leave the office. He closed the door behind him, smiling kindly at the assistant who just watched him with suspicion. If Tony hadn’t felt like a piece of shit when SHIELD had first taken Peter then he definitely felt like a piece of shit as he thought about the next several years where SHIELD would subject the kid to involuntary blood tests and physical examinations. Tony had single handedly signed away Peter’s rights and free will the second he’d shaken Fury’s hand.

As he passed Peter’s room, Tony couldn’t help but stop and pause. The kid looked so sad as he stared around at the plain furniture, the toy car he’d been playing with earlier now forgotten on his floor. There was nothing about the room that screamed it was fit for a child; the walls and floor were concrete, painted a dull white colour and the only source of light was a single lightbulb shining down from the ceiling.

Tony’s heart broke as Peter shuffled over to the bed, pulling the old ACDC shirt Tony had given him off the bed. Peter stared at it for a few second before struggling to pull it over his head. Tony couldn’t help but chuckle as Peter tried to put his head through the arm holes several times. When he finally got it on, the shirt fell down to his knees as it swamped him.

Peggy had said that just caring made him a better man. And try as he did to hide it, Tony cared. But just simply caring and hiding those feelings wasn’t helping anyone— not even himself (especially not Peter). The kid deserved more than SHIELD’s shitty room and the one ACDC top. He deserved better than Tony but right now there weren’t that many other options for Peter to go to.

The decision was made in Tony’s mind before he even really thought it through properly. He was always known for his ecocentrism and he was fully prepared for the earful Pepper was going to give him when he got back to Miami after these eventful full days but he didn’t care. Tony’s mind had been made up and nothing could break it as he walked over to Peter’s door.

Fury had apparently lied about the room not being locked because when Tony pushed down on the handle, it refused to budge. He tried it again, putting more force into it but the door remained shut. So Peter really was like a trapped animal. It made Tony feel sick.

The keypad by Peter’s door was easy to rewire, the machine making a few quiet beeps before going green and letting Tony in. No one was walking past as he pushed the door open, sliding in undetected.

“What are you doing here?” Peter frowned from where he sat on the floor, the ACDC top covering over his knees as the kid curled in on himself. Tony hated to see him look so frail and small.

“What, you got no smiles for me?” Tony tried to lighten the mood, giving Peter an apologetic look. The kid just frowned more, his eyes holding Tony’s with a burning sense of disappointment.

“You fibbed.”

“I’m sorry Peter, i thought i was doing the best for you.” He kept close to the door so if anyone past by they wouldn’t see him. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But you did,” Peter sniffed, placing his chin on his knees. His face scrunched up and Tony begged to all the Gods that the kid wouldn’t cry. Not because of him.

“I’m trying to make up for it now,” Tony sunk down to his knees so he wasn’t cowering over the small kid. Peter slowly looked at him, his cheeks flushed and eyes filled with tears.

“H-how?”

“Petey,” the nickname slipped out involuntarily. “Your mummy’s name was Peggy, right?” Peter nodded, sniffling a little.

“T-that was what Auntie Angie called her,” he whispered, staring at Tony with such sad eyes. It broke the heart he refused to admit he had.

“Well, you see Pete. . . I’m a friend of your mummy’s.”

“You know my mummy?” Peter perked up, blinking serval times. A few tears rolled down his cheeks and Peter was quick to wipe them away with a pudgy fist.

“Yeah, i know your mummy. She’s really missed you. Would you like to see her?”

Peter nodded enthusiastically, jumping up from the floor with a growing grin. “You’ll take me to my mummy?”

“Yeah buddy,” Tony smiled sadly. Peter bounded forward, throwing himself into Tony’s torso and wrapping his arms around his neck. The whole act threw the genius off for a second before he tentatively wrapped his own arms around Peter’s thin frame. The pudgy arms squeezed tighter for a second before Peter leaned back with a large smile.

“I forgive you for fibbing,” he spoke earnestly, making Tony chuckle.

“I’ll never fib again,” Tony promised, brushing a strand of hair out of Peter’s face. It still hit him as strange how devoted he was to this kid. He’d not even known him for longer than a week and already Tony felt as if he’d die if anything happened to the child in his arms. “There’s someone else who wants to see you, Pete.”

Peter sniffled, his wide eyes boring straight into Tony’s. “Who?” He whispered out, confusion written across his small face.

Tony reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the stuffed bear he’d found on the floor of his penthouse just as he’d been about to leave for England. It had been laying dejectedly on its back, face staring up at the ceiling in an almost depressing manner when Tony had found it. He’d quickly pocketed it, telling himself he’d give it to Peter the second he was able. Despite the toy being the only link Tony had to the kid, he’d been unable to even think about it during all the time he’d been apart from Peter otherwise the guilt would’ve eaten him alive.

“Mr Bear!” Peter practically screamed, a grin lighting up his entire face as he reached out for the stuffed teddy. He latched onto the bear, bringing it close to his chest and letting his head fall down onto the fur to feel its comfort. Tony watched as the kid sniffled, bringing the toy as close in as possible. There was something so innocent about the gesture that made his hidden heart swell.

“Here’s the thing, Pete,” he whispered in a secretive way so Peter would lean in with a serious look. “The people here, especially Mr Pirate, won’t like it if i take you to see your mummy. So we need to sneak out, okay?”

Peter nodded in an understanding way. “Gotta be quiet,” he mimed zipping his lips and throwing the key away.

“That’s right,” Tony nodded. “We gotta be super quiet and you need to stick by me, okay?”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” Tony tried to ignore how fast his heart was racing as he opened the door a fraction. He tapped on his sunglasses so JARVIS’ display would light up before him. “Hey J, can you check for any heat signatures so we can get out of this hell hole without getting caught?”

“Certainly sir, i’m directing you with the quickest route as you speak.”

“Atta boy,” Tony mumbled before opening up the door wider when the coast was clear. “You ready, kiddo?” Peter nodded, one hand curling around Tony’s pant leg again as the other held tightly to Mr Bear before they left the dull room and began walking down the corridor. They followed JARVIS’ route, stopping every now and then to pause and hide when an agent came into sight. True to Peter’s word, the kid didn’t even speak once.

When Tony’s jet came into sight through the double glass doors and the sense of freedom became overwhelming, Tony ducked down and lifted Peter up into his arms. The kid pressed his face into Tony’s neck, his legs wrapping around the elder’s torso in an easily fashion. Mr Bear was pressed between Peter’s body and Tony’s, wedged between them in a safe way. They walked quickly, with Tony barking orders at his pilot to get them going before they were properly inside.

“Did we do it?” Peter whispered, still attached to Tony’s side as the jet began to set off. SHIELD quickly became a small dot in the distance behind them and the weight fell off Tony’s shoulders as he smiled at the kid before him.

“Yeah buddy we did.”

Chapter Text

When Tony’s jet landed in England, the weather outside was horrible. Rain was pouring down, each drop violently splashing against the tarmac in a rhythmic beat. Peter had stayed quiet for most of the journey, refusing to leave Tony’s side as he’d clung to the man like a koala. If Tony had been honest with himself, he’d sort of liked it. There was something calming about feeling Peter’s chest rise up and down on his side, the kid squished into his embrace.

(“You comfy, kiddo?” Tony had mumbled near the start of the journey when they were far away from SHIELD and the feeling of ‘threat, threat, threat’ had left the man’s mind. He’d tried to put Peter down from his hold but the kid had just latched on tighter. In the end, he’d manoeuvred them so Tony was sitting down on one of the leather seats and Peter was squished into his side, head on Tony’s chest and Mr Bear in his hand as it laid on Tony’s stomach. It was so domestic that several days ago, the mere thought of this would’ve made the billionaire blanch. Now, however, it was an oddly serene feeling.

Peter had just nodded, breathing evening out in a tell-tale sign of falling asleep. Tony had dared to move after that, fearing waking the kid up from his much needed slumber. He doubted Peter had slept well locked up in SHIELD’s plain room.)

“It’s wet,” Peter mumbled as they moved to the door of the jet, Mr Bear pressed against his chest in a half hug. There were no signs of the rain relenting anytime soon and Tony knew that in the few short seconds it would take to walk down the stairs from his jet to his awaiting car, the both of them would get completely soaked. The idea of Peter shaking from the cold and wet in only his baggy AC/DC top was enough to give him chills without even going out into the rain.

“Here you go,” Tony shrugged out of his jacket, wrapping the kid up in it and pulling the top of the coat over Peter’s head to act as a makeshift hood. That should prevent the poor boy from drowning as they made their way to the car.

His trick had worked considering by the time they made it inside the car, Peter was practically dry. Tony, on the other hand, was completely drenched with rain dripping down from his hair into his face and his suit clinging to his body. Peter pouted at him with a sad look, reaching a cold hand out to wipe a few of the raindrops from Tony’s cheeks.

Tony couldn’t help but smile at the kid’s thoughtfulness.

The drive to Peggy’s house felt longer than it had the other day when Tony had come and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the weather or the fact his stomach was doing somersaults. Whilst the idea of introducing Peter to Peggy filled him with joy, knowing he was reuniting mother and son, Tony couldn’t help but feel apprehension.

Peggy wasn’t expecting a 4 year old to walk through her door with a wide smile and chubby cheeks. She was expecting a 55 year old man with greying hair and stubble on his chin. Her son, in her mind, hadn’t been frozen for who knows what reason. He wasn’t a science experiment.

Tony wasn’t sure how he was possibly meant to explain it to her without making the situation worse. At the same time, he couldn’t exactly not reveal the truth to Peggy. It would be cruel to put Peter in plain sight, only to never let her know who he really was.

Tony was jolted out of his thoughts as his phone buzzed frantically in his pocket. As per normal, it went into airplane mode automatically when on a flight but now they were on the ground, it was receiving all the calls again.

38 missed calls from Unknown Number.

He didn’t need to guess who the Unknown Number was. The phone continued to ring and Peter turned from looking out the window to give him a confused look. Tony sighed, pressing accept before placing the phone up to his ear.

“I DON’T KNOW WHO THE HELL YOU THINK YOU ARE-“

“Whoa, no need to burst my eardrums,” Tony hummed, running a hand over his face. He threw his Stark facade on, clicking his jaw as he once again tried to pretend like the world couldn’t hurt him.

“Stark,” Fury roared, every syllable he spoke drenched in utter outrage. Tony could almost picture him now: leaning forward on his desk, mouth curled into a snarl and a large frown ducking down into his eyepatch. “Do not play games with me.”

“I’ll make a mental note to never play Monopoly with you,” Tony continued to tease. He tried to ignore Peter’s tiny frown from the seat beside him, no doubt being able to hear Fury yell across the line.

“Where the hell is he?”

“I’m sorry you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Stark,” Fury’s voice dropped down to a threatening whisper. “We know you have him. Don’t even try to deny it, there’s security footage of you carrying the boy to your jet playing on my computer screen as we speak.”

“Well, you caught me,” Tony tusked, acting nonchalant.

“Whatever it is you are trying to do, Stark, it won’t work. This boy isn’t like one of your robots that you built and improve upon. He isn’t something for you to play with for a little while and then abandon when you get bored.”

“Jokes on you,” Tony stared out the window, watching as the rain pelted against the glass. Judging from memory, they were near Peggy’s now. “I never improve my robots; Dum-E is a mess and i wouldn’t change him for the world.”

“Stark! You bring the boy back here now!”

“Or what?” Tony hissed down the line, trying to lower his voice so Peter wouldn’t be able to catch on. The kid was staring with wide eyes, his face half pressed into his bear’s Captain America mask. “You’ll send your agents after me? I’m more powerful than you think, Director Fury. Threatening me isn’t going to work.”

“You have no use for the boy-“

“It isn’t about use,” Tony spat, his frustration finally seeping in. “It was never about use!” With that, he hung up the phone and growled, running a hand through his wet hair. The phone in his hand buzzed again but Tony just turned it off. His chat with Fury couldn’t be put off but now wasn’t the time for it. Not when Peter was right there.

“Are you in trouble?” Peter whispered, his eyes wide and filling with tears. Tony just shook his head, a hand going out to run through the kid’s unruly curls. A few tears slipped down Peter’s cheeks but Tony wiped them away.

“No, kiddo. Don’t you worry about it, okay?” Peter just nodded, sniffling slightly but turning away to look back out the window.

“We’re here, sir,” the non-Happy driver spoke softly, pulling up to a spot. Through the rain bombarding the window, Tony could just about make out Peggy’s flat. Despite it being during the day, the dullness from the clouds was making it look darker and bleaker than it was meant to be. Tony thought it was rather fitting.

“Pete,” Tony drew in a sharp breath. His nerves were skyrocketing now. “There’s something i need to talk to you about, are you listening?” Peter nodded quickly, pulling his bear impossibly closer. “You see, the thing . . . your mother isn’t going to be the same as you remember her.”

A frown grew on Peter’s face, confusion written across his features. “What do you mean?”

Tony cleared his throat. How was he meant to explain this? “Your mom is going to . . . look different. You see, Pete, there are some things that have happened— things we can’t really understand.”

“Tony, i don’t get it,” Peter’s voice was small and muffled as he pressed his chin into his bear’s fur.

“Oh God,” he was feeling extremely underprepared right now. “Peter, do you know what year it is?”

“1950,” the poor kid only got more confused.

“That’s not true,” Tony shook his head, trying to keep his voice as calm as possibly. “It’s now 2005— you see, you’ve been . . . asleep for a long time.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yah-huh,” Tony sighed. “You know how when you woke up a week ago, there were all those people surrounding you? The people from DC?” Peter nodded. “They found you, that’s why. You’ve been away for a while but you’re back now.”

“Where’d i go?”

“We don’t know,” he brushed some of the kid’s hair out of his face. “All i know is that your mummy has missed you so much. She looks older now but trust me, it’s still her. She still loves you.”

“Can i still see her?”

“Of course! But I want you to stay in the car with the driver, okay? I’m going to go in first but i’ll come back for you. I promise.”

“No fibbing?” Peter whispered the words, looking almost terrified.

Something sad pulled Tony’s lips up in an attempt of a smile, “I promise.” He wasted no more time as he opened his car door, running towards the door as the rain attacked him, once again making Tony get soaked in the short space of time that he was exposed. He tried not to look back at the car where Peter was staring with wide eyes as Tony knocked on the door.

When the door opened, it wasn’t Peggy standing in the doorway. A petite woman with brown hair running down to her hips was frowning ever so slightly, her lips pulled into a thin line and her large glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.

“Tony?” The woman frowned even more, her voice showing how surprised she was. “What are you doing here?”

“May?” Tony peered at the woman, recognising the brown of her eyes. It was the same as Peggy’s . . . as Peter’s. “Wow, its been a long time.” Despite Aunt Peggy’s recap of her children and grandchildren’s lives, Tony hadn’t actually seen any of that side of the family for several years. He’d never really been close in age with any of them (Peggy’s children, par Peter, being 10 years older than he and her grandchildren being about 10 years younger). And he’d always been more of an enigma that Peggy’s family had never been able to crack.

“Are you here to see Grandma?” May beckons him to come in, which he does after a look back at the car where Peter was waiting. They move into the living room, Tony taking off his coat as May potters around. “Do you want tea?”

“No thanks and yeah, i am. Did you come from the States to see her too?”

“Actually, i just got back from my honeymoon,” May smiles, brushing a strand of hair away from her face with a slight awkwardness to her movements. “Ben and i went to France for 3 weeks. When i heard about Grandma’s fall i decided to stop here and see her before going home.”

“Ah,” Tony nods, scuffing his feet slightly as he waited for wherever Peggy had gone to come back. “And how is Ben?”

“He’s good.”

“A police officer, yeah?”

“Recently promoted, yes.”

“Aunt Peggy says you’re a nurse now?”

“I work at a hospital in Queens— you have an apartment in New York, right?” May smiled in a kind way. It struck Tony had talking to her felt like chatting with an old friend; endearing and comfortable.

“Yes but i mainly stay at my house in Malibu,” Tony nodded. He was about to elaborate more when Peggy shuffled into the room. Her hair was styled as always, the grey bob looking very well done.

“Anthony!” She smiled when she noticed Tony talking to her granddaughter, moving forwards to pat his cheek with affection. “You’re back! I swear, you can’t get enough of me.”

“How could i ever?” He shot back, cheekily. The nerves were rising again now he was face to face with Peggy.

“I hope you paid our last conversation some attention?” Peggy shot him a look, making the nerves begin to overflow. Any second now and Tony was sure he was about to go into some sort of hyperactive shock.

“That is actually what i came to talk to you about, Aunt Peggy. It is kinda serious.”

Peggy frowned, looking concerned for a second. “What is it Anthony? Are you in some sort of trouble. I may be an old woman but i still have some pull on the Government.”

Tony shook his head, gently directing the elderly woman to the sofas. “It isn’t anything bad but i think i need you to sit for this.”

“Anthony?” Peggy’s voice was rising as her no-bullshit levels reached an all time high. She did as was asked, sitting on the sofa with worry in her eyes. May decided to move away as they spoke, going back to the kitchen to give them so privacy. Tony was grateful for it.

In the car and on the jet, Tony had replayed this moment a thousand times in his head. As Peter had slept, he’d been in a constant torment of how the hell he was meant to say this. How do you tell a woman that her son was found after 55 years? The news was happy, sure, but the changed circumstances of Peter still being the age he was first kidnapped threw something of a sadness into the mix.

Tony contemplating going into a large tirade, giving the poor woman the run down of the past couple days. Tell her everything he knew about Peter and all SHIELD had done. But it was just delaying the inevitable.

He decided to just go for the straightforward method. It was what Peggy had always appreciated and done. It seemed fitting.

“We found Peter.”

Chapter Text

“We found Peter.”

The words were so blunt that it made Tony feel guilty. Maybe he should’ve eased Peggy into that statement a little more? Should he have made it more gentle rather than just forthright tell her the truth about her missing son’s reappearance?

Judging by the way Peggy looked as if she’d been slapped in the face, her mouth parting slightly like she was trying to form words that just weren’t there, Tony guessed he’d messed up. Tears formed in Peggy’s eyes similar to the way Peter did when he got worried.

“I’m sorry,” Tony shook his head, the guilt overtaking him. He looked down at his hands and swallowed. God, what he would give for a drink right now (pushed that thought away the second it entered his mind). “I should’ve been more sensitive; i didn’t know how else to tell you.”

Aunt Peggy’s cold and wrinkled hands reached out to wrap around Tony’s. Her voice was soft as she spoke. “Anthony, what are you talking about?”

“We found him,” the words were low, half whispered. He raised his head to meet Peggy’s eyes, seeing the flicker of hope that burned there. “He’s back.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

Tony cleared his throat. “Um, SHIELD. Technically speaking, they found Peter but i was the one who worked out who he was.”

Peggy took in a sharp breath, retracting her hands and shaking her head. “This isn’t possible. I looked for decades and there was no trace! How . . . Where could they—“ she trailed off, her lips wobbling.

“I believe the Director of SHIELD said something about finding him in the middle of nowhere in Russia, Peggy.”

“Russia?” Peggy leaned back, swallowing hard. Her hands were shaking and her jaw was clenched so tightly that Tony almost told her to relax before it broke.

“This is true?” Peggy stated suddenly, eyes snapping up to meet her Godson’s with a burning passion. “You aren’t pulling any tricks, Anthony?”

He couldn’t even blame her for thinking the worst, he was notoriously known for stirring shit. His inability to not cause trouble had driven Howard mad. But he would never lie about such things— not to Peggy.

“Never,” he whispered.

“How is he?” Peggy’s voice sounded choked. Her eyes were swimming in tears and her lips wobbled in a rhythmic movement as she continued to stare at Tony. “Is he well? Have you spoken to him? What does he look like now? You found him— he’s not . . . is he?” She couldn’t bring herself to say the dreaded word.

“He’s alive,” Tony promised, nodding encouragingly. “And safe, currently. He’s a great kid, Aunt Peggy, you should be proud.”

His words made Peggy pause, a frown on her face as she watched him. “A kid? Anthony, Peter will now be 59 years old. He hardly qualifies as a ‘kid’ as i’m sure you’re aware. Have you met him? Have you spoken? What does his voice sound like?”

Tony decided right there in that moment that this part of the conversation was going to be the hardest. Telling a mother her missing child of 55 years had been found was the simple part. Telling said mother that her missing child was still 4 years old rather than the 59 he was meant to be was definitely trickier.

Tony cleared his throat, his clothes feeling too tight for a second. The air seemed to be thinning and just looking at Peggy’s awaiting face was making him want to be sick. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell her truth. He’d just say that Peter was his son or something—

Thinking about Peter made Tony’s invisible heart constrict. He thought about the poor kid sitting in the car outside in the rain, waiting to see his mother again after what had been only several days to him but 55 years to Peggy. He thought about how happy Peter had been at the prospect to see his mom and how all the kid wanted was the woman in front of him right now.

He couldn’t take Peggy away from Peter just like the kidnappers had done. He had to be a better man and do what made him uncomfortable for Peter’s sake. He needed to be what Peter deserved.

“Peggy, there’s something you need to know.” Tony drew in a deep breath, willing to not give up. “The people who kidnapped Peter— HYDRA is what Fury called them— they put him in a cyrostasis chamber.”

“What does that mean, Anthony? Is he alright?”

“Peter is fine,” he assured her. “But he’s still physically and mentally 4 years old.”

There was silence for a while as Peggy processed the information. She stared blankly ahead, her features unreadable. For a second, Tony was worried she’d gone into shock.

“That isn’t possible,” Peggy mumbled after what seemed like hours of silence.

“It is,” Tony shot back. Now he’d said it, it felt easier to argue the truth. It was like a weight had been lifted. “What HYDRA did was essentially freeze Peter until he was able to be preserved for decades. It was painless, the kid doesn’t even remember being taken. He just woke up when SHIELD got him out of the chamber and what felt like several hours of sleep to him was actually 55 years.”

“. . . So my Peter,” Peggy’s voice broke as she said her son’s name. “Hasn’t even aged a day? He’s still . . . just as he was when he was taken?”

Tony nodded, swallowing. “He’s really excited to see you. Hasn’t shut up about seeing his mummy since he woke up.”

Peggy’s eyes snapped back to his, something wild in them. “He’s here? Anthony, you have him with you?”

“Yeah Aunt Peggy, he’s outside in the car.”

The tears rolled down Peggy’s cheeks again, the droplets getting caught in her wrinkles and creasing. She looked so frail and lost as she blinked at Tony with what he could only see as fear in her eyes. Yet there was something determined about the way she curled her mouth.

“I want to see him,” the words were strong unlike her teary expression.

“Of course,” Tony stood up, clearing his throat as he moved. “He knows about you too, i’ve told him some of the basics. He’ll know who you are.”

“Oh God i hope so,” Peggy mumbled to herself as Tony moved towards the door. He passed where May was tidying in the kitchen before opening Peggy’s front door and waving to Peter. The kid was in the exact same position, staring out the window with wide eyes.

The rain had died down to a light drizzle now, the clouds beginning to slowly clear. As Tony walked down to the car, he was grateful for the cease in the thunderstorm-like conditions.

“Hey buddy,” Tony spoke softly when he opened the car door, ducking down slightly so he was at level to Peter’s gaze. The kid looked adorable with a pink nose and wide eyes, holding the same look that Peggy had shown seconds ago. “You ready to come inside?”

Peter didn’t say anything, opting to just nod as he shuffled out the car. Tony told his non-Happy driver to wait before taking Peter’s small hand and leading him into Peggy’s flat. Mr Bear was held tightly in the kid’s grip, providing the emotional support needed.

Before they were about to enter into the living room where Peggy sat waiting, Tony ducked down again so he was level with Peter and made the kid pause. “You remember what i said, right?”

Peter bit his lip, looking too young to properly understand. “Mummy will look older because i was asleep for a long time.”

“Yeah,” Tony ruffled the kid’s hair with a small smile. “You don’t need to be afraid, kiddo.”

“I don’t want her to be mad that i didn’t wake up,” Peter sniffed, bringing his bear up to his chest.

“It wasn’t your fault buddy, she knows that. She’s missed you. Are you ready to see her?”

“Will you stay?”

Tony knew he should probably take a step back and let Peter and Peggy have their moment but the kid was visibly shaking before him. Peter’s anxiety was rolling off him in waves and Tony knew there was no way he would be able to leave (even if he wanted to) when Peter was in that state.

“I’ll be right by your side, kiddo.” He stood up again, his own heart beginning to race as Tony held onto Peter’s hand again and walked him into the room. Peggy was still sitting where he’d left her, her wrinkled hands clasped together and her eyes greedily searching over Tony to find where her son was.

It was like the room became engulfed in tension the second Peter’s little feet walked into the living room. Two pairs of brown eyes met, both filling with tears as they stared at each other. The need to reach out and hold her son was beginning to slowly kill Peggy but she feared her drastic change of appearance would frighten him off.

Peter stayed clinging to Tony’s hand, letting the man walk him forward until he was stood before a crying Peggy. She tried to smile at him, her wrinkles creasing around her lips. Peter just carried on shaking, one hand gripping his bear to his chest and the other squeezing Tony’s.

For one terrible minute, Tony feared that Peter would turn away from his mother. The kid still hadn’t said anything, instead just stood in silence staring at Peggy like he was trying to decide what to do and if she was who they said she was. For one terrible minute, Tony thought Peter was going to reject Peggy.

And then the kid’s grip on Tony’s hand slackened and the arm holding Mr Bear to Peter’s chest fell back down to his side. Peter stepped forward slightly, something unreadable on his face. His eyes bored into Peggy’s— never moving from her gaze.

“Mummy?”

The word was so quiet and full of question that it was almost heartbreaking. But instead of crying out of the pure agony of it, Peggy let out a sob in relief, her arms stretching out to embrace Peter. The kid clambered up into her embrace, wary of her less agile bones as he sat in her lap. Mr Bear was sitting on Peter’s lap as Peter sat in Peggy’s. He looked up at her with wonder in his eyes, snuggling into her embrace for the first time in 55 years.

“Oh my Peter,” Peggy sobbed, her shaky arms wrapping around her son’s tiny body and holding him close. Her head fell down into his hair, her tears dropping into Peter’s scalp. “My baby, i missed you so much!”

“I missed you too mummy,” Peter whispered. A look of happiness etched itself onto his face as he laid on his mother’s lap, wrapped in her warmth. Her face may have changed, wrinkles might have overtaken her features and her hair has lost its colour but Peter knew who she was just by looking into her eyes.

After 55 years, the woman had the same look of love in her eyes when she looked at her son. Some things never changed.

“I didn’t mean to not wake up,” Peter mumbled into her chest, his pink nose pressing against Peggy’s skin. One of her hands ran through her son’s hair, Peggy’s head lifting up so she could smile at the small body pressed into her.

The last 55 years had been torture, filled with ‘what ifs’ and unanswered questions. There had been over a thousand sleepless nights where insomnia kept her up, questions rolling through her mind as they asked her if she was doing enough to help find Peter. The past few decades had been filled with doubt and birthday parties where the guest of honour was unable to attend. It had been a million tears and screaming at the agents tasked with finding her son when she thought they weren’t doing their best.

It had been breakdowns when the department looking for Peter had closed. Pain rippling through her when her other children surpassed the age she’d last seen her first born, never forgetting that he would’ve been 16 when her second son was born. 18 when her only daughter entered the world. Their births had been bittersweet, a new start yet a constant reminder of what she’d lost.

The past few decades had been a living hell, filled with beautiful moments that destroyed her to think Peter was missing out on it all. Each time something wonderful happened (her grandchildren growing up, marriages, great-grandkids being born), Peggy froze and wondered about where Peter was. As she’d watched her granddaughter walk down the aisle only several weeks ago, she’d been plagued by terrible thoughts wondering if perhaps after all those years, maybe Peter had just been killed the night of his abduction.

That thought had always been the worst. It had first popped into Peggy’s heard several weeks after Peter had been taken, insomnia refusing to let her rest. The sky outside had been black, the stars attempting to shine through but failing to do anything but provide a dull light. She’d once thought the stars had been beautiful but after Peter had been gone, Peggy had struggled to see the beauty in anything after that.

Holding Peter in her arms now, old with age and having led a long and adventurous life, Peggy finally knew what it felt like to be complete. The missing puzzle piece that had left her bare and broken for 55 years was finally slotted back into place.

“I love you, my darling boy,” Peggy leaned down to kiss Peter’s temple. She remembered doing that every night when he’d been a young boy, promising she’d be there in the morning. Until the one day when she hadn’t been.

“Are you mad?” Peter’s voice was sad and he leaned his head up to show Peggy his upset face.

“Of course not! How could i ever be mad at you?” She kissed him again, relishing in the ability to do so. Whilst Peter being 4 years old contradicted everything she’d spent thinking about in the last few decades (celebrating Peter’s birthday every day each year, wishing him a happy 16th, 18th, 21st, 30th, 40th, 50th) it was calming to just hold him in her arms. In all honesty, Peggy didn’t care about his age as long as he was alive and healthy.

“‘Cause i didn’t wake up,” Peter sniffled, his eyes darting over to where Tony sat, watching the pair intently.

“It wasn’t your fault buddy, remember i said that?” Tony was quick to add, a hand coming out to rub the kid’s arm soothingly. Peter nodded slightly, letting go of Mr Bear to stretch his arm out towards the genius. Taking the hint, Tony smiled ever so slightly as he held onto the kid’s hand, his fingers brushing over the back of Peter’s hand with affection.

Peggy watched the exchange with warmth in her heart. It was clear that her Godson and son had bonded, their relationship already formed. Peter was clearly comfortable around Tony and sought him out for comfort. In that moment, Peggy knew what she was going to ask of Tony.

She was too old to raise her son now but Tony was more than the perfect match. Just by how willing he was to provide comfort, Peggy knew he was the perfect match.

Peter must’ve been the kid Tony had stressed himself over becoming a better man for. It warmed her heart to know that the billionaire was honestly trying. And for her Peter.

“My Peter, i have loved you from the day you were born,” Peggy brushed some hair out of Peter’s fringe. “Each day i would say ‘My Peter, my blessing’ as i held you. There was no one— could never be anyone— who could take your place. I’ve missed you so much but i’ve never once blamed you.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been so sad, mummy.”

“Peter, you’ve only ever brought joy to my life.” It was a lie but in that moment, Peggy spoke the truth. Those 4 years before Peter’s abduction had been filled with joy and now, all the years that follow this moment will be filled with joy too. She decided to forget the last 55.

Tony can’t help but be mesmerised as he watched mother and son bond, pushing away the years apart and acting as if it was still 1950. They talked for a long time, sharing secret inside jokes and talking about Mr Bear. Peggy routinely kept brushing Peter’s hair back off his face, leaning in to kiss his forehead with only the care a mother could have. Her tears had dried now but her grip never relaxed, keeping Peter tucked into her side with no ability to move.

As he watched the pair interact, Tony suddenly had an insight into how hard it must've been for Peggy in the years of Peter's disappearance. There was no clear indication who Peter's father was for Peggy wasn't married or in a known relationship around the time he was conceived. It wasn't like history reports about the great Peggy Carter ever focused on her personal life; even though she was a woman her achievements professionally were just as honoured as the men's around her. But Tony found he didn't care about who Peter's father was (he suspected it was just another soldier coming in and leaving for war-- who knows if he lived or died after the fighting) because the only bond that mattered was between Peggy and her son.

“Anthony,” Peggy whispered after Peter had fallen asleep, rocking the boy back and forth slightly. She was looking down at Peter, her voice sounding far more unstable than it had been when Peter had been awake. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing him to me.”

Tony smiled at her, one of his hands still attached to Peter’s. The kid’s grip was still strong despite him dozing easily into Peggy’s chest. Peter’s entire face was pressed against Peggy’s skin, no doubt listening to her heartbeat as he slept.

“Of course, i couldn’t not let you see him Aunt Peggy— he’s your son.”

Peggy brushed some hair out of Peter’s face, sniffling again. “He was the boy you were telling me about, yes? The one you wanted to be better for? You wanted to step up for?”

Tony cleared his throat quietly. He felt rather exposed as he nodded. “Yes but i understand he’s your son, Aunt Peggy. I’ve done my part bringing him to you—“

“I want you to raise him, Anthony,” her words were quiet but bold. Peggy raised her gaze from Peter’s sleeping form to Tony’s startled eyes. “It has to be you.”

“Aunt Peggy,” Tony started, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Do you really think that is a good choice? With my lifestyle . . . i can’t even take care of myself!”

Peggy just sighed, her eyes dropping to where her son’s tiny hand was stretched out so it could hold on to Tony’s. “I don’t think you really have a choice,” she muttered, staring at their two hands combined. “I think Peter’s made the decision for the both of us.”

“He’s your son, he should be with you—“

“Anthony, i’m 84 years old, i can’t care for my 4 year old son. As much as it pains me, he needs someone to actually be able to raise him: you.”

“What about your other family?” Tony kept his voice low so Peter didn’t wake up. “May is in the kitchen? It will be a shock, sure, but i’m sure she’ll be a suitable fit.”

“Are you honestly telling me you would be able to give Peter up?” Peggy shot him a look. “Considering what you were saying the other day and the fact you physically can’t help yourself in providing comfort to my son, i would say that my boy has you wrapped around his pinky finger.”

Tony sighed, looking down at where his fingers were still gently brushing against the back of Peter’s hand. It was true that Peter had him wrapped around his pinky finger— he had for a while now. But being putty in the kid’s adorable hands didn’t mean he was ready for actual parenting. Doing what Peggy asked meant becoming fully devoted to Peter, it meant adopting him and giving up his party lifestyle to be a single parent. A dad.

“Anthony,” Peggy whispered again, their eyes meeting. Her love was shining through and Tony was taken aback at how much she looked like Peter in that moment. “My son needs you.”

Tony knew what his answer was going to be before he even said it. Surely, he must’ve known that at the end of the day, his personal fears would end up meaning nothing. Parents never felt ready when they had kids but they did it anyway because those children needed them. Peter needed him and whether Tony felt ready or not, he needed to step up. He needed to be better than Howard and give Peter a sense of normalcy that he’d never had: a proper family. Peggy would always be Peter’s mom but Tony had to be the one to look after him.

“I’ll do it.”

Peggy just smiled like she’d known he would agree along. Peter continued to sleep in his mother’s arm, the sound of his tiny snores quickly becoming a thing that Tony would be able to recognise a mile away. The kid was already wormed his way into Tony’s heart/

And he was there to stay.

Chapter Text

Whilst Peter lay fast asleep in Peggy’s arms, light snores filling the room from the adorable little kid, Tony and Peggy talked. They spoke in hushed tones about the practicality of Tony taking in Peter. Lawyers were called and game-plans were made. In the end they decided that Tony would take Peter back to Malibu to live with him but every other weekend they would fly out to England to spend time with Peggy (along with various and frequent phone calls to be made throughout the week).

The idea would be to hide Peter's true identity, create a new birth certificate where his birth year is changed so he could fit in. For all matters public, Peter would be Tony Stark's son. It was all Peggy could think to make Peter safe in a world that would easily lock him up and call him a freak for going 55 years without ageing a day. The last thing they wanted was for the little boy to be nothing more than a kidnap victim for the rest of his life. Peter deserved a chance at being normal.

They were just finalising their plan, planning everything out to the T when a sudden pounding on the door echoed around the apartment. The fist was unrelenting on the door, banging loudly and without pause.

May stumbled back into the living room, looking confused as the sound carried on. In the shock of such violent knocking, she managed to miss the boy tucked into her grandmother’s embrace. “Gran, do you want me to answer it?”

Before Peggy could even reply, a loud bang sounded through the apartment as the door was busted open. May screamed, ducking down as the door fell to the floor with a resounding clang. Tony was immediately up on his feet, trying to shield Peter and Peggy as men and women in black uniforms with guns on their hips marched into the small space. They all looked pissed off to be there.

“This is the ‘or what’ we talked about earlier, Stark,” Fury walked through the agents, a large scowl on his face as he stood before them with his arms crossed over his chest. Peter had been woken up now, beginning to shake and whimper at the sight of several agents and Fury standing so close. Peggy just held him tighter, trying to shush him.

“How’d you know i’d come here?” Tony shot back, refusing to move despite how Fury close. He had to hold his ground and protect Peter.

Fury rolled his eye, giving Tony an unamused look. “Where else would you go? You aren’t the only genius, Stark.”

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are!” Peggy roared from the sofa, giving Fury a look of utter anger. Her jaw set tightly and her eyes seemed to light up in flames as she glared at the man. “But you cannot barge on in to my house!”

“Ma’am,” Fury spoke more softly, looking around Tony’s figure to see Peggy. “My name is Director Fury, as i’m sure you’re aware. I work with SHIELD.”

“Don’t you ‘ma’am’ me, Director Fury,” Peggy yelled back, placing a hand over Peter’s ears as she continued to yell. “You have no right to break into my apartment like this unannounced.”

“Actually we do. Mr Stark here kidnapped the child in your arms when he was in our custody. It will be easier for all parties involved if you hand the boy back over to us. We promise, Agent Carter, you can have routine meetings with the child but he needs to remain under SHIELD custody.”

“And what, this is your final decision, Director Fury? You believe that you can break into my house and then force me to hand over my son willingly?”

“Agent Carter, i understand your emotional ties but it is for the boy’s best that—“

“You seriously believe that i will even listen to what you think will be the best for my son, Director? Especially after you failed to inform me about finding him?”

“You were going to be informed—“

“Oh really? And when would that be?” Peggy continued to glare. “When i was dead and conveniently not a problem anymore?”

“Agent Carter,” Fury ground the words out. “Your son isn’t normal, he needs to be kept in SHIELD’s company to ensure the best for his health.”

“Don’t you tell me if my son is or isn’t normal. You think this . . . event defines him? Peter’s story doesn’t start and stop with his abduction. My son will live out the rest of his life in a sense of normalcy that you believe he is incapable of.”

Fury sighed, seemingly giving up. “You’re 84 years old, Agent Carter— you think you can raise your son?”

“Oh heavens no,” Peggy shook her head sadly. “I couldn’t do parenting justice in my old age. But Anthony can and he will.”

Fury turned his gaze to where Tony continued to stand protectively above the pair. The man gave the billionaire an unamused expression. “This is serious?”

“As serious as can be,” Tony nodded, crossing his arms and upholding his stare at Fury. The man was looking for weakness but Tony wouldn’t provide it.

“You think you can raise a child, Stark?”

No, Tony thought. “I can try,” he shot back with as much confidence as he could muster. Trying was all he could do.

“He will,” Peggy cut in, stroking Peter’s hair. “I’m sure Anthony’s lawyers will be more than happy to answer the rest of your concerns Director Fury but as for now, i would like to enjoy my time with my son without your intruding and rather insulting remarks. Good day.”

Peggy turned back to Peter, giving him a tight smile as the boy snuggled in closer to her chest. She brushed some hair out of his face, kissing the top of his head. The rest of the SHIELD agents and Fury were forgotten as Peggy put her attention only on her son.

“Stark,” Fury nodded his head towards the door. The rest of the agents were filing out of the small apartment, grumbling things under their breath. Tony followed Fury to the door, frowning. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Fury spoke once they were alone and out of Peggy’s earshot. The bald man stood outside the apartment whilst Tony lent on the doorframe.

“Does anyone?” Tony shot back with fake gusto.

“Like i said Stark: the kid isn’t like one of your robots. Parenting is more than just a few wise crack jokes and a nickname here and there. It means sacrifice.”

“What would you know, Fury?” Tony frowned, his fingers going white as they clenched at the door handle tightly.

Fury shrugged, giving Tony a look. “Sure, i’m just an old man with no experience. But i do care Stark— i want the best for that boy.”

“And you don’t think that is with me?”

There was a pause as Fury considered the words. “You have potential,” Fury nodded slowly. “I just don’t think you understand what true sacrifice is, yet.”

Tony didn’t know what he was meant to say to that. His entire life he’s never loved anyone apart from his mother. Howard had cut it close but the snide comments and indifferent attitude had made it too hard. Tony had never held a proper relationship where he put his partner’s needs before his own. He’s never had to stop and think about how his actions would affect other people.

Peter was going to completely change that.

Tony decided he liked that.

“You’re wrong about me,” Tony shot back, glaring at Fury as the man slowly started to retreat.

“Maybe,” Fury admitted. “I guess we’ll see.”

Tony watched as the man walked off to the large black van that the other agents had vanished into. The second the large doors closed, the van came to life as it vanished down the old English road. He stood there watching nothing for several seconds before quietly closing the door and retreating back to where Peggy and Peter sat.

Peter smiled widely at Tony when the man entered the room. His small face came to life, lifting out of Peggy’s chest to show his brown orbs and dazzling smile to the genius. Tony couldn’t help but admit his secret heart grew at the sight.

For better or worse, Tony was committed to the kid now. He was going to be the best father he could to Peter, completely changing his entire lifestyle to provide the kid with an almost stable environment. He would be everything that Howard wasn’t.

He was going to prove Fury wrong.

Chapter Text

(2008.

It was cold in the cave. With only a small fire and clothes that barely fit over his withering form, Tony was starting to forget that his fingers shouldn’t be a light shade of blue like they always seemed to be now. Each time he breathed, a puff of smoke escaped his lips.

He dreamt of Peter every night. He dreamt of the kid’s loud laugh and the way his eyes crinkled when he giggled at something Tony had said. He dreamt of the way the kid snored, his mouth always half open and drool running down to Tony’s shoulder whenever Peter fell asleep during a movie. He dreamt of how Peter’s little fist always held tightly to Tony’s clothes when he was scared, gripping the fabric in a vice hold that never relented.

He dreamt of how much Peter had grown in the last few years, going from an energetic 4 year old to a rambunctious 6-- almost 7-- year old who bounced off the walls each morning and night. He dreamt of Peter’s curls and spent many hours each night wondering how long they’d gotten in the small eternity that Tony had been trapped in the cave. He wondered if Pepper had finally gotten her wish and chopped half of them off or if she’d left them so Tony could have something to run his hands through when— if— he returned home.

He tried not to think about how Peter was taking his absence. He tried not to think about if Peter cried himself to sleep or sat up waiting until the early hours of the morning in case Tony returned. He tried not to think about Peter being shipped off back to SHIELD like he was their property, Fury getting what he’d always wanted and keeping the kid under his eye rather than let him enjoy his life like the child he was.

Tony tried not to think about how the last thing he’d said to Peter had been “i’ll see you soon buddy”. He tried not to think about how his last words had been a lie.

In his dreams, when he’s about to board the Stark Industries jet, 3 hours late with Peter’s sad face staring up at him on the tarmac, he always changes what he says. He doesn’t lie. He always kneels down to Peter’s heart, kisses his forehead and says: “I love you, son”.

The biggest mistake of Tony’s life was that he never admitted that Peter was his son. Because he was— for years he always saw Peter as Peggy’s son. He was Aunt Peggy’s kid that Tony was looking after and raising. But Peter had wiggled into Tony’s heart— ever since that first day when he’d carried the kid to bed and Peter’s chubby arms had wrapped around his neck with such childlike innocence and trust, Peter had found himself a space in Tony’s non-existent heart.

So when Yinsen asked if Tony had a family, looking up at the genius with judgement and the expecting a no to slip out of his lips, Tony had paused. For so long that answer had been no. Even when his parents had been alive, that answer had been no. Tony had never been a family man, he’d never known a healthy family arrangement and he’d never admitted to loving someone even if their love smacked him in the face.

Until Peter.

“Yes,” he’d whispered, head bent and letting his face morph into a closed book. The exposure of admitting something he hadn’t even told the kid was almost making him back down. “I have a son: Peter.”

“I didn’t peg you for the family type,” Yinsen didn’t give anything away, looking at Tony with something unreadable on his face. Tony couldn’t even blame him: not many people did.

He thought of Peter running into his bedroom one morning with a loud shriek, a $50 note in his hand as he yelled for the whole of Malibu to know that the Tooth Fairy had come. He thought of Peter’s last birthday, the kid turning 7 with a Star Wars theme decorating the entire penthouse: Jedi this and Sith Lord that. He thought of the warm feeling that had taken over his heart when he’d watched Peter and his best friend, some kid named Ned who he’d met in a park in New York one time they’d travelled over for buisness, scoff down as much cake as they possibly could before resuming their lightsaber fight.

“What can i say?” Tony shrugged, continuing on with the game they were playing. He hoped Yinsen couldn’t see past his cool exterior.

“It looks good on you.”

“What does?”

“Caring,” Yinsen cleared up. There was something soft in his eyes, like he was finally seeing a different side of Tony and he liked what he saw. His mouth was curving up slightly into a small smile and Tony tried to ignore what could possibly be going through Yinsen’s head to look at him like that. “Fatherhood suits you, Stark.”

They hadn’t spoken about Peter much after that. They were both focused on building the suit and getting out of that godforsaken cave to go see their respective families. But Peter never left Tony’s thoughts. He thought about all the times he should’ve told the kid that he loved him or just how proud he was to have Peter as his son.

He dreamt of getting out of the cave— alive— and kissing Peter on his head, running his hand through his curls and letting the kid know just how much he’d missed him. How much he loved him. When— if— he survived this place, Tony made a promise to always let Peter know how much he was loved. Every day.

Yinsen’s face was ashen, his skin a nasty pale colour. His eyes held a blankness in them and when he spoke, his voice hitched ever so slightly. Tony tried to get him up, he bit down on his tongue hard and told Yinsen that he needed to move if he ever wanted to see his family again. But Yinsen just opened his chapped lips, shaking his head and told the truth: his family was dead.

Tony bit down harder on his tongue as Yinsen mumbled about wanting death, accepting that this had always been the plan. He tried not to think that this would’ve been exactly what Tony would’ve wanted too if Peter had died just like Yinsen’s family. He watched as a final sigh escaped Yinsen’s lips, the man’s head rolling to the side as his eyes slowly slid shut.

“Don’t waste your life, Stark.”

Tony followed through with his promise.)

Chapter Text

Something is playing through the speaker as Steve Rogers finally wakes up. A soft buzz of commentary fills his ears as he begins to get roused from his sleep. It takes a while for his eyes to open, his mind feeling groggy as if he’d been asleep for a while.

Waking up, Steve feels completely relaxed. He’s laying on a stiff bed in his army clothes, facing up as a ceiling fan slowly spins above him. A light breeze drifts through the small room, the beige curtains moving ever so slightly.

The room was nice enough with green and white walls, a lamp beside his bed and several fans spinning calmly around him. Yet despite the cool atmosphere, Steve knows something is up. He frowns as he sits up, ignoring how stiff his bones feel.

The last thing he remembered was being in the plane, flying it down in order to protect the thousands of lives that were being threatened by the bomb Schmidt had wanted to drop. Peggy had been crying down the line. Steve had wanted to tell her he loved her but in that moment, he’d settled with making a promise about a dance they both knew he would never be able to keep. And then ice.

The game’s commentary picked up, the voices getting louder as the crowd cheered. It was meant to be positive and happy but Steve just frowned even harder. He knew that game . . .

The door opened and a petite brunette walked in, a smile on her face. “Good morning,” she closed the door behind her before glancing at her watch. “Or should i say afternoon?”

The poor attempt at humour failed on Steve, his mind going one hundred miles per minute as he tried to decipher what the hell was going on. The game was still playing through the speakers, the cheers doing nothing but elevate Steve’s stress levels even more.

“Where am i?” He stared at her with distrust, ignoring her calm smiles and quiet voice.

“You’re in a recovery room in New York City.”

Lies, Steve yelled in his head. He glanced around the room again, seeing all the things he’d missed when he’d first woken. The scene outside of the window was obviously fake, the New York buildings looking painted. Being a city boy, Steve knew that it would never be this quiet in NYC. With the windows open, the streets noise should be infiltrating the space around him.

“Where am i really?”

The woman looks flustered, brushing off Steve’s comment with a wonky smile. “I’m afraid i don’t understand.”

“The game, its from May 1941— i know because i was there.” Realisation dawned on the woman’s face, something akin to fear growing in her eyes. Steve stands up from the bed, slowing walking over to her. “So i’m going to ask you again, where am i?”

“Captain Rogers—“

“WHO ARE YOU?” Steve barks just as the door opens again and men dressed in black SWAT armour barge in. He stumbles backwards, worry blossoming in his chest. All he remembered was Peggy crying and suddenly he’s in a fake hospital room with a game from 4 years ago playing on the small stereo and men in black armour surrounding him.

“Captain Rogers wait!” The woman yells after Steve kicks the two SWAT men through the fake walls and begins to run from the studio like room. Steve feels like an animal trying to be caught as he runs through the corridors with hundreds of agents stopping and trying to catch him. He pushes them to the floor as he passes, heart beating wildly.

It isn’t until he makes it outside that his anxiety skyrockets. The cars back in the 40s looked nothing like the things being driven around on the streets as Steve runs out into the cold air. Sleeker and faster cars whiz down the streets in the usual New York traffic, the people on the streets seemingly unfazed about the man running barefoot past them.

Steve wants to scream as he turns corner after corner in the city he used to think he knew. New York, despite being home, wasn’t the place he remembered. With flashing signs and larger buildings, each one with a different logo and brand stamped onto its side, Steve was completely lost. Cars honked as he ran down the streets, children no longer playing with the lids of bins as they messed around with their friends; instead opting to tap away at some screen in their hands.

He turned in circles, everything seemingly too bright and confusing. The screens kept changing, adverting a different brand or show each five seconds. It was overwhelming and for a second, Steve wondered if this was HYDRA’s form of torture.

Black cars surrounded him, circling him so he couldn’t leave. Other agents stood around him, half looking at him in awe and the others in fear. Steve honestly felt ready to pass out as he turned around to see a bald man with an eye patch and dressed in black, standing before him with an unreadable expression.

The man walked towards him, determination written over him. “Look i’m sorry about that little show back there. We thought it best to break it to you slowly.”

Steve frowned, breathing heavily as he stared at the man. “Break what?”

“You’ve been asleep, Cap. For almost 70 years.”

Steve didn’t process the words, instead turning to look at the bright lights round him. 70 years . . . it felt unimaginable. It was like he was living a nightmare, forced out of his time into a place he had no chance of understanding.

“You going to be okay?” The one-eyed man spoke up again with a small amount of sympathy. As if he hadn’t just delivered the largest bombshell.

“Yeah,” Steve panted even though he wanted to scream ’no’. How was he possibly meant to be okay? “It’s just . . . i had a date.”

He thinks of Peggy who’d cried down the line as Steve revealed what he’d been planning to do. He thought of Peggy never getting her dance and living the rest of her life not knowing what the hell had happened to him. He thinks of her missing him for 70 years whilst he was asleep in the ice. He thinks of never being able to give her her dance.

It feels like something straight out of a nightmare.

—————

“I’ve really been asleep for 66 years?” Steve sighed, placing his head in hands. He was currently sitting in a dark conference room with Fury after getting cornered by SHIELD and told the heartbreaking news about where he’d been for the last few decades.

Fury paced the space in front of him, watching Steve with a cautious look. “Unfortunately so, Cap,” he spoke with little emotion. “You went into the ice in ’45 and it is currently 2011.”

“. . . The war?” Steve looked up from his hands with a pained expression. He felt like he was living in a bad dream, having absolutely no knowledge about anything that had happened in the past 66 years. It was heartbreaking when he thought about it, everyone that he’d once known would’ve lived out their lives without him. The Howling Commandos would be dead or elderly. His officers would be long gone. Peggy . . . He didn’t want to think about her right now.

“A victory to the Allies,” Fury stated calmly. “Your sacrifice made that possible, Cap.”

It was meant to be a compliment, Steve knew, but Fury’s words didn’t sit right. His ‘sacrifice’ was meant to be dying as he crashed the plane into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. It felt like a cruel joke that not only had he survived but he’d managed to miss 66 years of his life, all his friends passing him by and forgetting him in he decades that he’d been asleep whilst they carried on living their lives. It felt more like he was being punished than reward for trying to save all those people’s lives back in 1945.

He’d just wanted to stop the bomb from destroying all of New York, not end up like this.

“What happened to all my friends?” Steve asked finally, dreading the answer but feeling an intense desire to know it at the same time. It was like a burning question that he needed extinguished but was afraid would burn him at the same time. “What happened to. . . Peggy?”

Fury stopped in his pacing, giving Steve a look as he debated over whether to tell the man anything. Looking at Steve’s pained expression, Fury caved. “Agent Carter is currently alive and living in England.”

“Peggy. . . she’s well?” Steve begged in his head for Fury to say yes. That was all he wanted: one simple yes.

Fury adverted his eyes, sighed and then looked back at Steve’s desperate face. “Last year, Agent Carter was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. The disease is progressively getting worse. I’m sorry, Cap.”

Steve felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He placed his head back in his hands and sighed, squeezing his eyes tight so he could try and stop the increasing need to cry. The woman he loved was suffering and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Does she remember me?”

“Sure,” Fury shrugged. “Her long term memory has stuck but new information comes and goes. You try and tell her that you’re now back and you might need to remind her constantly.”

Steve felt sick as he stood up from the table, walking towards the door. He needed to get out of this stuffy room and find a gym that he could punch a bag in. After being asleep for 66 years, Steve’s need to break something was overwhelming. (He still couldn’t believe he’d been in ice for almost 70 years, missing all his time with the woman he loved and his friends).

“Ah, Cap,” Fury called out to him just as Steve reached the door. “There’s one more thing.”

“What?” Steve turned around with a tight expression. “What more could there possibly be?”

Fury gave him a blank stare, something cold in his face as he stared Steve down. The silence seemed to stretch for hours before the one eyed man finally spoke. “A child.”

“Did you just say ‘A Child’?” Steve stared wide eyed at the man. After getting told he’d been frozen for 66 years, he honestly thought nothing else could shock him. Apparently, he was wrong.

“You heard me, Cap: a child, yes.”

“And what does this child have to do with me?”

“Well,” Fury shrugged in a nonchalant way. “It seems that you and Agent Carter’s short love affair resulted in the birth of a son. The boy was born 10 August 1946.”

Another punch to the gut. Steve let out a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding. Nausea was beginning to creep up. He’d only been with Peggy once in a means of saying goodbye and trying to prove how much she’s meant to him. Steve had known there would’ve been a chance he wouldn’t make it back when he went to stop Schmidt and being with Peggy had been the only thing he’d wanted.

He’d never even thought that it could’ve resulted in a child. Steve had a son . . . a boy who’d grown up without his father for 66 years. The thought made Steve sick how his own son would be 65 years old whilst Steve himself looked to be just coming out into his 30s. He’d always thought that when he settled down (with Peggy) that he would’ve been a present father. That he would’ve been exactly what he’d never had.

“I have a son?” He phrased it like a question even though he knew the answer.

“Yes,” Fury nodded. “Agent Carter raised him alone for 4 years.”

Steve’s frown grew, worry beginning to blossom in his chest. He’d only just found out about the boy but Steve knew his heart would break (more than it already had) if Fury said something bad had happened. “Only 4 years? What happened?”

Fury sighed again, something alike sadness coming across his face. It made Steve pause, panic rising up in his chest. Say nothing happened, he begged.

“The boy was abducted in 1950.”

It felt like a blow to his heart. Steve tried to not think about Peggy, the woman he loved losing him and her son in the space of 5 years. He tried not to think about the child he hadn’t even known existed being snatched from his mother’s warm embrace.

“And have you . . . found him?” Steve chocked the words out, eyes desperately seeking something— anything—in Fury. The other man just stood stock still, eye giving nothing away as his face remained passive. For a second, Steve wondered if Fury wouldn’t reply (effectively replying in not so many words).

But then the man opened his mouth, drawing in a deep breath. He made eye contact with Steve, his only good eye filled with a blank nothing that did nothing to calm the super soldier’s growing pain.

“No.”

Steve felt like his heart collapsed.

—————

Peter fiddled with a strand of loose string on the hem of his jumper. He ran the fabric through his fingers, tugging at it until it frayed even more and started to pull. The strand became longer, the jumper breaking even more as he pulled the fabric even more.

“Hey stop that,” Tony pushed his hands away and sighed, taking in the now frayed edges of his son’s jumper. “If you didn’t like it, you could’ve just said. Rather than destroy it, you know.”

Peter sighed too, his head hanging low as he kicked his feet out in front of him. He didn’t like coming to the hospice that his mother now lived in. He hated the smell that seemed to be lingering in the air and he hated how all the nurses who passed by would give him sad looks, knowing that one of his loved ones were living in this building without having any memory of him.

“I don’t want to be here,” Peter whined for the millionth time. They were waiting outside Peggy’s room to see her, the doctor currently inside and determining if she would be okay for visitors. She always had her good and bad days.

“You want to see your mum, right?” Tony gave the kid a soft look, turning his head to the side as they sat side by side in the uncomfortable plastic chairs outside the room. He put his phone down, ignoring Pepper’s emails for a second to focus on his 10 year old son’s glum face.

“Yeah,” Peter admitted, looking down at the floor sadly. Of course he wanted to see his mum. They always flew over to England every other weekend to see her, spending hours talking to her and pretending that something completely unfair hadn’t broken them apart. “I just want her to actually remember me this time.”

Tony wrapped an arm around the 10 year old, tugging him into his side and leaning the side of his head on Peter’s crown. Peggy’s diagnosis of Alzheimer’s last year had been rough on Peter, the boy having broken down the first time his mother had forgotten who he was. Constantly re-telling Peggy that her missing son was back was beginning to wear both Tony and Peter down.

“I know buddy,” Tony sighed into his son’s hair. “It really sucks. But we can’t change your mom’s disease, all we can do is be there to support her.”

“Do you think she’ll get better?” Peter whispered.

Tony swallowed hard, turning to kiss Peter’s crown before answering. “I don’t think so, kiddo.”

“Mr Stark?” The doctor walked out of Peggy’s room, clip board in hand and a small smile on his face. “Ms Carter is able to see you now.”

Tony nodded, standing up and wrapping a hand around Peter’s shoulders, keeping the child close to his side. Peter had grown a lot in the 6 years since Tony had adopted him, growing to be just at the height of just under Tony’s chest (he was still rather small for his age). The boy’s curls were shorter than usual, Pepper having finally gotten her way and forcing Peter into a haircut. To Tony though, despite Peter being 10 years old, he was still the chubby faced, adorable 4 year old he’d grown to love.

“How is she?” Tony asked before they walked in. Peter remained at his side, his fist clenching the hem of his father’s shirt as he stared up at the doctor with wide eyes.

The doctor sighed, giving them a sad smile. “You might want to be gentle with her today, it seems to just be one of those days.”

Tony nodded slowly, mulling over the words before thanking the doctor and opening the door to Peggy’s room. Peter remained at his side, eyes wide and shaking slightly as they approached the kid’s mother’s bed. Peggy was laying on the standard hospital bed, the sheets pulled up to her chest and her expression blank.

She smiled when she noticed Tony walk in. “Anthony! My boy, it’s been so long!”

Tony doesn’t correct her that they had come to see her only two weeks ago. Her face looked paler, the wrinkles more prominent. Peggy’s lips were devoid of colour and her eyes were shining with a glassy look. Her usually well-kept hair was messy and frazzled, messed up from laying on the pillow.

“Hi Aunt Peggy, how are you?”

“I’m good my dear,” she reached out a shaky hand which Tony took in his own, sitting beside the bed. Peter sat in his lap, watching his mother with a heartbroken expression. “And who is this?” Peggy smiled kindly at her son, having no memory of who he actually was.

“This is my son,” Tony smiled sadly as he watched Peggy’s eyes light up, her hand moving from Tony’s to reach out to Peter. Peter took it tentatively, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. “Peter.”

“Hi Peter,” Peggy squeezed her son’s hand gently with a small smile. “Anthony, i didn’t know you had a son.”

Tony cleared his throat, nodding. “Yep.”

When Peggy had first been diagnosed, Tony had carried on telling her the truth. Each time he would visit, he would tell the woman about how her son had been found and that he was the boy sitting in Tony’s lap. They’d tell her about what HYDRA had done and that Peter still looked like a young boy because of the cyrostasis chamber.

But they’d quickly learnt that telling Peggy the truth didn’t always work out so well as it had the first time back when Peter had been 4. Some days, Peggy would accept the truth and cry, hugging Peter close to her chest as she sobbed. Other days, she would refuse to accept it and get angry, believing that Tony was lying to her. In the end, Tony had decided that constantly telling Peggy the truth about her son ended up only being more and more distressing to Peter.

So they just lied.

Peter could still see his mom but she forever lived with no memory about who he was. It was rather horrible really.

Tony’s phone began to buzz halfway through their chat with Peggy. The woman paused in telling them about her week as the device began to ring. Normally, he would just ignore it but the name that popped up on the screen made him frown.

“I’ve got to take this,” Tony apologised, shifting Peter off his lap so he could stand up. “You okay to stay in here by yourself?” He whispered to Peter as he pressed the phone to his chest.

Peter nodded, taking up the space Tony had vacated and continuing to talk to his mother. He bit his lip as she talked, wanting nothing more than for her to remember who he was.

Tony sighed as he slipped out the room, pressing the accept button and putting the phone up to his ear. He only ever spoke to Fury every now and then, the two of them having gotten back into touch after the whole ‘Iron Man incident’ as they called it. Fury’s help with Tony’s Palladium Poisoning had helped forged an almost-friendship between the pair.

“What is it, Fury?” Tony spoke down the phone, keeping his voice quiet whenever a nurse walked past in the halls.

“We have a situation, Stark. Cap’s awake.”

Tony blinked, not knowing what he was meant to say. After 66 years, the man his father had been more invested in than his own son was finally awake. He wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.

All Tony knew was that things were going to change.

Chapter Text

It was nearing one in the morning as Tony sat in his lab, reading over the file Fury had sent him through his emails. They’d just gotten back from England that evening with Tony’s mind still reeling at the fact that Captain America— the guy his father had been obsessed with and the original hero— was back. According to the files, he’d been found somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean after 66 years of being frozen there.

Tony sighed and rubbed his face, he could feel the dread building up as he continued to read Steve Rogers File. Ever since the incident last year with his Palladium Poisoning, Fury had been on his back about the so-called Avengers Initiative. It seemed Steve Rogers was the perfect candidate. Tony almost hated himself for actually wanting to meet the man.

“Dad?” The quiet voice of Peter pulled Tony out of his thoughts as he spun around in his chair to see his son standing at his lab’s door. Peter was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, his hair a mess as he yawned.

“What you doing up, buddy?” Tony frowned as Peter walked closer, quickly climbing into his father’s lap like usual. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Peter lied, snuggling closer to his father. He laid his head on Tony’s shoulder, looking sleepily at what was on his Dad’s screen. “Whose that?”

“No one,” Tony quickly turned the screen off, running a hand through Peter’s curls. “Could you really not sleep or did you have a bad dream?” Peter didn’t reply, confirming Tony’s thoughts. “You want to talk about it?”

Peter shook his head, sighing into his Dad’s neck. Tony just let out a breath, continuing to run a hand through Peter’s hair. This was the 6th time in three weeks that his kid had woken up from nightmares in the middle of the night and still Peter refused to talk about what was bothering him.

“You can talk to me buddy, you know that right?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, Dad.”

“So why don’t you?” Tony kept his voice low. He didn’t want to make Peter think he was mad at him or anything, he just wanted to know what was going on in his son’s head.

“Because i don’t know what my nightmares are about,” Peter whispered, snuggling his face further into Tony’s neck and wrapping his arms around him tighter. Tony suddenly realised that pressed between his chest and Peter’s was the beloved Mr Bear toy. That was how he knew it must be bad, Peter had long since grown out of the age where he carried his toy around everywhere.

“Well, what happens in them?”

Peter shrugs, sniffling slightly. “It’s dark.”

“Okay,” Tony contemplated the words. “That seems fair, you’ve always hated the dark. What else happens?”

“I don’t know,” Peter leans out of his neck to look at his father with round, teary eyes. “People are talking around me but i don’t know what they’re saying.”

“You can’t hear them?”

Peter shakes his head softly. “I can’t understand them.”

Tony frowns, brushing a strand of hair out of Peter’s face. The boys cheeks are red and his eyes look glassy, as if he was going to cry any second now. “Do they sound happy? Angry?”

“They sound scary,” Peter whispers, a few tears slipping down his cheeks. “They grab my arm like this,” he motions to gripping his wrist in a death grip. “And it hurts.”

“You’re safe Bambi,” Tony pulls his son into his embrace again so Peter was laying on his shoulder. “Those people can’t hurt you— not with me around, okay?”

“It’s always so dark, Dad,” Peter’s voice trembles and Tony can feel some tears go through his top to his shoulder. He shushes his son, rubbing a hand over his back in calming motions.

“I got you Bambi, it’s okay. It was just a bad dream.”

“Can i stay with you?” Peter’s voice trembled, the kid hunching in on himself. Tony suddenly had a flashback of 4 year old Peter looking so small and scared as he’d curled in on himself on Tony’s jet the first time they’d ever met. He kissed his son’s hair, holding him close.

“Of course kiddo; you want to watch a film?”

“Star Wars,” Peter nodded, already sliding off his father’s lap and walking towards the lab doors. Tony stared at the now blank screen, a part of him wanting to stay and catch up on Steve’s file whilst another part of him wanted to follow Peter. In the end, he sighed and followed his kid out the lab doors, snuggling next to him on the sofa as JARVIS played the original Star Wars (Peter’s favourite) from the beginning.

Peter had already fallen back asleep before Luke had even left Tatooine. Tony left it a little longer, waiting until after Obi-Wan had been killed for him to try and move the kid without waking him up. He slipped his hands under Peter’s legs, the other cradling his back, before slowly making his way towards their bedrooms. Tony paused outside Peter’s door before he turned on his heel and walked into his own bedroom.

Tony laid Peter down on his large double bed, pulling the blankets up to the boy’s chest. Brushing a few strands of hair out of his fringe, Tony leant down and pressed a soft kid there before climbing into the other side of the bed. He pulled up Steve Rogers’s file on his tablet, continuing to skim the words there.

By the time he’d read it over a thousand times, his mind was still reeling. All Tony knew was that there was something in him that wanted to meet the guy.

———————

“I knew you would come snooping, Stark,” Fury growled when Tony walked into his office with a smirk. “You’ve always liked to barge on in to my buisness.”

“If you’re trying to imply that my son is your ‘buisness’, don’t,” Tony replied, taking a seat in front of Fury’s desk with a far too nonchalant look for it to be natural. “And i don’t know what you mean, i’m not snooping.”

Fury hummed, looking less than impressed. “And the fact that you flew all the way to DC for no reason isn’t meant to be suspicious? I see through you, Stark.”

Tony placed his hands up in a surrender expression. “I’m innocent!”

“You’ve never been innocent.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Tony sighed, sobering up. “Right, so what’s going on with everything?”

“What makes you think i’ll tell you?” Fury raised his eyebrows, leaning forward in his chair. “You don’t qualify for my ‘Super Secret Boy Band’ remember? And where’s your kid?

Tony rolled his eyes, releasing a loud sigh. “Don’t cling to the past, Fury. Peter’s back in Malibu—“

“You left your kid in Malibu?”

“Calm down, Rhodey’s staying over to look after him. Now, stop trying to change the subject: tell me what is going on with Cap.”

“Isn’t much to tell.”

“A super soldier just came out of the ice after 66 years and you’re telling me there isn’t much to tell? Come on Fury, throw a guy a bone here!”

Fury gave a long-suffering sigh, giving up on trying to withhold information. It was clear Tony wasn’t relenting on this. “The guy just came out of the ice; everyone he ever new or loved is either gone or extremely old. So far the most that has happened is he’s beaten his fists black and blue in the gym.”

“Sounds brutal,” Tony murmured under his breath.

“Cap’s just trying to gather his bearings in a world he no longer understands. It’s going to take some time for him to adjust.”

“Are you trying to imply that i leave him alone and not cause a scene?”

“I can see why they call you a genius, Stark.” Fury’s lips curled up into a half smile.

Tony leant back in his seat and rolled his eyes. “I’m not that problematic, you know. Just wanted to meet the guy my Dad never stopped obsessing over.”

“And that,” Fury pointed at him with a sudden change in tone. “Is exactly why you won’t be meeting him until Cap’s ready. He doesn’t need your drama right now.”

“Whatever,” Tony shook his head as he stood up. “I’m so glad i wasted my time flying over to Washington for no reason.”

“I’m warning you, Stark!” Fury yelled just as Tony closed the doors to his office. He had no intention of going straight back to his jet and something told him that Fury knew that too. The Director had mentioned something about Cap beating his fists black and blue in the gym so Tony decided that was the first place to go.

Bingo, he thought as the sounds of someone punching a bag filled the air. He stepped out of the elevator onto the lower floor where gym equipment was laid out around the room. There was a large fighting ring in the middle of the room and several punching bags dotted around.

As Tony walked further into the gym, he could see a tall and muscular blonde man sending punch after punch to one of the punching bags. He hit it repeatedly, never relenting until it eventually split and broke from the chain holding it up. The man just sighed, his back to Tony, as he dragged it away before moving to get another one.

“So the rumours are true,” Tony called out loud enough for the man to hear. Steve Rogers paused, slowly turning around with a confused and slightly irritated expression. Hs chest was heaving from the physical exertion and sweat was growing on his brow. “Cap’s finally awake.”

“Sorry but who are you?” Steve frowned, looking the brunette man up and down. The super solider took in the billionaire’s expensive suit and perfectly styled hair, noting he probably didn’t work for SHIELD.

“Tony Stark,” he stepped forward a bit more, trying to keep a nonchalant expression. “You would probably know my father—“

“Howard,” Steve nodded, his frown relaxing a little. He still held one of the punching bags in his fist as he stood only a few metres from where Tony stood. Both regarded each other with slight tension. “Yeah i knew him; is he still. . .?”

“No,” Tony cleared his throat. “Car crash in ’91.”

Steve’s face distorted into pain again before going back to a guarded expression. Tony tried to ignore how the hero had looked ready to cry for a simple second. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Tony just shrugged, not wanting to get into it. “How’re you liking the 21st Century?”

“Considering all i’ve seen of it is flashing signs and faster cars, coupled with the fact that everyone i knew is now dead or really old . . . it isn’t the best.”

“You need to get out more.”

“Oh yeah, and how do you suggest i ‘get out’,” Steve scoffed. “I can’t exactly escape my predicament.”

Tony raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t shoot! I was just giving you advice!”

“Well, thanks for your advice but it isn’t very helpful,” Steve frowned, chaining the punching bag back with a snarl.

“You know, when my Dad would tell me endless stories about you, it seems he missed off the part about you being a grouch.” Tony tested the waters, enjoying watching as Steve got riled up, his frown growing. In all ways, Steve was a very attractive man. He had perfect features and a toned body, with startling blue eyes that looked like a sea. Tony had been with men before but none of them had filled his stomach with butterflies in the same way Steve did. Just looking into the man’s eyes and Tony felt a rush of adrenaline.

“Everyone i know is gone!” Steve finally reached the end of his tether. “Let’s see you try and be upbeat about it. The woman i loved is suffering and my . . .” He broke off, voice getting strained as he thought about his child. A child he had never had the chance to love. All he knew was that the kid had been a boy and he should be 65 years old (if he was even alive still).

Steve turned around and carried on punching the bag. Tony stepped a little closer, curiosity making him stay. “You might break your fist doing that,” he mused.

“Good,” Steve clenched his jaw together tightly, eyes fixed on the grey punching bag before him. He drew his fist back a million times, ignoring how his knuckles ached and the skin split. He didn’t stop until yet another bag split open and fell to the floor with a loud thud.

“SHIELD might start charging you for those,” Tony hummed, watching the blonde man through his sunglasses. He’d walked around the punching bag so he was facing Steve again, an unreadable expression on his face.

“What exactly is it you want from me, Mr Stark?” Steve panted, wiping away some sweat with his bloody fist. “I have nothing— literally nothing— to give you.”

“Is it weird to say i just wanted to meet the great Captain Fucking America,” Tony frowned ever so slightly.

“You aren’t a fan,” Steve mumbled as he dragged the second split bag away to join the growing pile.

“Fan is a strong word,” Tony nodded. “That implies actually liking the stories i’ve been told about you or having any kind of respect for you.”

“Some would call me a hero.”

“And some would call you a skinny kid who took some drugs and did what thousands of other men did in the 40s: fought a war.”

“You come down here just to tell me you didn’t like me?” Steve frowned, glaring at the shorter man. Tony was only slightly shorter than him but he exuded much more power. Dressed in a sweaty gym top and tight trousers, Steve was acutely aware of how much influence Tony obviously held.

“Amongst other things,” Tony shrugged in a calm way. It was clear that he was enjoying riling up the super soldier and try as he might, Steve couldn’t help but fall victim to it. There was something about Tony that managed to push all Steve’s buttons.

“I can’t help that you don’t like me,” Steve sighed, chaining another punching bag up. He paused in taking multiple swings at it to give Tony a defeated look. “You aren’t the first person with a negative opinion and you won’t be the last—“

“Why? Because you’re such a big fucking celebrity?” Tony baited the super soldier, glasses perched on his face to hide his eyes. The butterflies continued to grow as he surveyed the muscles on Steve’s back, his sweaty top clinging to them in a defining way.

“Like you?” Steve spat back, his frown growing on his face. He stared down at Tony’s impassive face, the sunglasses still perched on his nose despite being inside. Steve had to admit that the genius was extremely attractive— he pushed that thought away as soon as it came. He never let himself fall into those feelings when he was growing up so he refused to do so now. “Walking in here like you own the place, acting like a complete asshole.”

“Wow, big words,” Tony hummed, an annoying smirk sliding across his face. Steve felt a rush of anger as the billionaire continued to act nonchalant whilst completely pissing him off. “Dad never said you were smart either. You’re just the whole package, aren’t you?”

“What else did your Dad tell you?”

Tony shrugged, glaring slightly behind the sunglasses. “The usual: how Captain America was Gods gift to Humanity.”

“Obviously you don’t agree,” Steve huffed. He didn’t really agree with that statement either but he wasn’t about to admit that to the stranger currently insulting him.

“How can i when you never did anything special?”

“The whole reason i’m here, currently 70 years out of my timeline, is because i sacrificed my life to save people! I don’t expect you to understand.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Tony growled, taking a step forward. Steve didn’t even flinch.

“Look at you,” Steve nodded towards him. He looked down at the billionaire’s impeccable goatee and suit, the sunglasses on his face and the way his hair was styled. “I don’t think ‘sacrifice’ is even in your dictionary.”

“You don’t know me,” Tony snarled.

“And you don’t know me” Steve shot back. “I think i like it better this way.”

“You saying you haven’t enjoyed our little chat?” Tony reverted back to his sarcasm, still glaring at the super soldier.

“I’ve had better,” Steve just shrugged, turning back to his punching bag with a renewed amount of energy.

Just as Tony was about to reply, the elevator dinged again and Fury stepped into the gym with a deep scowl. He gave Tony a death glare, the billionaire sighing in a way that showed he knew he’d been caught. “Stark!” Fury called out with anger.

Tony raised his hands in defeat, walking away from the frowning Captain America to where Fury was standing with one narrowed eye.

“I’m leaving, i’m leaving,” Tony mumbled. “Just wanted to say hi.”

“Yeah right,” Fury scoffed, giving Steve one last look as the man turned around to beat the punching bag until it split again. He made a mental note to purchase some more punching bags for the hero to work through.

The elevator shut, taking Tony and Fury back up to the main level. “I specifically told you to leave Cap alone,” Fury growled, sending the billionaire a side-eye look full of anger.

“Well, when i have ever done as you’ve asked?” Tony smirked at the man, exiting the elevator.

“You need to mind your own buisness,” Fury shot out as Tony began walking away to his waiting jet.

“Or what?” Tony turned around, continuing to walk backwards with a smug look. “I don’t qualify for your ‘Super Secret Boy Band’, remember?” He liked how exasperated Fury looked as he turned back around, a smirk placed on his face.

All Tony knew as he left was that this wasn’t going to be the last time he saw the famous Captain America. It was like a gut feeling, something telling him they’d come face to face again— and soon. He wasn’t sure if he liked that or not.

Chapter Text

Peter didn’t like it when his Dad went on missions. Ever since the dreaded events of Afghanistan, Tony had taken up the new mantle of Iron Man which called him out to places to do superhero-y things and save the day. At first, Peter thought it was cool. (How many other kids could say their father was an actual superhero?)

But then being Iron Man became far more demanding. His Dad always made time for him and more often than not, he was always home by the end of the day to tuck Peter into bed and kiss him on the forehead but there was an obvious difference from his father’s last 9-5 job as CEO of Stark Industries to flying around in a metal suit, shooting bad guys.

Still, Peter hated when his Dad left. He liked staying with Aunt Pepper or Uncle Rhodey (or occasionally Uncle Happy when everyone else was too busy) but they weren’t the same as his Dad. Aunt Pepper never tucked him in to bed just the way that Peter liked and Uncle Rhodey couldn’t read a bedtime story in the character’s voices to save his life. They didn’t measure up to his Dad ultimately and on the few odd occasions that Tony was away for longer than a day or wasn’t home to kiss him goodnight, Peter missed him.

Which was why he was grumpy when some guy named Phil Coulson barged into their newly lit up Stark Tower and demanded his Dad get ready for a new mission. They’d flown to New York for a short period of time because Peter’s Dad and Aunt Pepper had spent months designing the new Stark Tower, having it run on sustainable clean Arc Reactor energy to light it up. Peter had watched with wide eyes as the Tower had shone so brightly just earlier that night. Aunt Pepper had smiled down at him as his Dad had finally arrived home, suit retracting from around him, watching as Peter had run to Tony with a loud laugh. Tony had just ruffled his son’s hair and smiled, asking in a sarcastic tone if Peter liked the new Tower.

And then Phil Coulson had ruined it all. There was a few mentions of the Avengers and something about his Dad not making the cut before Coulson had handed something to Pepper, telling her to make sure Tony read it all over and dispatched when he could. It was something about saving the world but Peter didn’t care. He just didn’t want his Dad to go.

“Dad, please don’t go,” Peter pouted when Tony began gearing up. The man’s lack of enthusiasm earlier when he’d tried to turn Phil Coulson away had been replaced by cold determinism. “I wanna watch Star Wars with you!”

“Sorry buddy but duty calls,” Tony ruffled his son’s hair with a sad smile. He didn’t like to leave Peter either but when a demigod threatened to try and get all humanity to submit to him, there were times that Tony couldn’t put Peter’s whining above the rest of the world. “Pepper’s going back to Malibu in a few days, she’ll take you back so you can sleep in your own bed.”

“But Aunt Pepper never tucks me into bed as good as you!”

“I’m sure you can teach her, she’s a fast learner.”

Tony was walking towards the veranda, his suit prepared to fit around his body with practised ease. Peter could feel the desire to get his father to stay bubble up and start to overflow as he watched Tony’s retreating back. The words slipped out of Peter’s mouth before he even realised the gravity of what he was saying.

“Are you going to leave me just like you did in Afghanistan?”

Tony froze on the spot, his heart stopping for a second as Peter’s words circled around his brain. He felt like ice had been poured down the length of his spine as Tony slowly turned around, a look of pain on his face as he stared at Peter’s trembling lip. Standing only a few metres away, obviously trying not to cry, Peter looked far younger than 10 years old.

“What?” The word flowed out of Tony’s mouth like a breath. He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach as he tried to understand what the hell Peter’s childlike brain could’ve meant by such a harsh statement.

“Are you going to leave me like you did in Afghanistan?” Peter repeated the words, this time with slightly less confidence. Tony took a step forward, trying to ignore how his son’s eyes were swimming in tears threatening to fall.

“I didn’t leave you. . .” Tony trailed off as he paused in front of Peter, kneeling down so they were closer in height. He placed his arms on his son’s shoulders, bringing them down so he was lightly gripping Peter’s forearms. For the life of him, Tony wasn’t sure what Peter could mean. He hadn’t purposely left Peter . . .

“You did,” Peter started to cry, the tears rolling down his cheeks as he sniffled. Despite the bad timing, Tony decided that perhaps this talk was long overdue (by around 3 years to be exact). After his abduction, Tony hadn’t wanted to dwell on it. Apart from asking if Peter had been moderately okay during his 3 months of captivity, there had no been no talk about it afterwards. “You left to go to Afghanistan and then you didn’t come back for 3 months.”

“This isn’t like that,” Tony freed one hand to wipe his thumb against Peter’s cheeks. “I just have a mission; i gotta help a few people out— that’s all. I won’t be gone for 3 months.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Peter sniffed. “You said you’d be gone for 3 days.”

“Peter,” he took in a shaky breath. “This isn’t like last time. I’m more prepared to defend myself now. What happened in Afghanistan won’t ever happen again.”

“Because of Iron Man?”

“Yes, because of Iron Man,” Tony nodded, leaning his head in so he and Peter were touching foreheads.

“I don’t like it when you go away,” Peter whispered his truth, eyes searching his father’s in their close proximity.

Tony let out a shaky sigh, his entire heart clenching as he leant away. He looked at Peter’s entire face, trying to memorise every detail. “I know you don’t; i don’t like leaving you either. But i will come back, okay? I’ll always come back for you.”

“I hope you kick the butt of whoever is dragging you away,” Peter sighs in defeat, refined to the idea that his father was going to leave no matter how much he begged or cried.

Tony laughs a little, pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead before standing up. “I have every intention to, kiddo. Be good for Pepper whilst i’m gone.”

“Bye Dad,” Peter called out and waved as he watched Iron Man fly off. All he could do is pray that his Dad fulfils his promise.

——————

“You should come by Stark Tower some time,” Tony walked over to where Bruce Banner was working, twiddling a tool around in his hand. They’d successfully managed to capture Loki in Germany, stopping him just as he’d been about to blow some poor old man to smithereens. With Loki in their vicinity and his Staff being examined by two genius’, Tony felt as if this mission wouldn’t carry out for too long. It had already been a day and a half since he’d last seen Peter.

Bruce backtracked, stating something about the last time he’d been to New York, he’d broken Harlem. Tony just rolled his eyes. He liked Bruce Banner, the guy was cool in a collected way and he seemed like the only one who had the same mental capacity as Tony. They could both talk science for hours without getting bored. In the back of Tony’s mind, the real reason he invited Bruce to Stark Tower was because he knew Peter would love him. Tony could see the two of them getting along really well with Bruce being the science uncle that Peter needed.

“Is everything a joke to you?” Steve suddenly walked into the room with a glare heading towards Tony after the man zapped Bruce in the side, attempting to break ‘The Other Guy’ out. Tony knew the Hulk wouldn’t really break free (why would Fury invite Banner to a contained space if the Hulk was so easy to get to come out). It was almost amusing how worked up it got Steve, as if he expected Banner to go green any second.

“Funny things are,” Tony shrugged back. Things had been almost awkward between him and Steve in the small time they’d been in contact again. After the whole ‘bombarding Cap in the gym’ thing a few months ago, Tony had almost forgotten about the blonde hottie— at least until they came face to face again in Germany when they stopped Loki (and then had to fight Loki’s brother, some muscular dude named Thor).

“Threatening the safety of everyone on this ship isn’t funny,” Steve talked like he was giving a child a lecture and it almost made Tony want to gag. It would be a lie to say that things were getting better between the two of them; if anything, things were getting worse. “No offence, Dr.”

Bruce just shrugged. “It’s alright, i wouldn’t have come aboard if i didn’t know how to handle pointy things.”

“You’re tiptoeing big man, you need to strut.”

“And you need to focus on the problem, Mr Stark,” Cap continued to lay his authority down thick.

“And you thing i’m not?” Tony picked up a bag of blueberries, popping a few in his mouth. “Why did Fury call us in now? And not before? What isn’t he telling us?”

“You think Fury is hiding something?” Steve spoke with distrust.

“He’s a spy. Captain, he’s the spy. His secrets have secrets.” Tony tried to forget how Peter was almost one of those secrets. Despite getting closer to the Director of SHIELD in the past few years since becoming Iron Man, Tony would never forget how his son was almost made into a science experiment at Fury’s hand.

Things only escalated from there, the distrust of Fury growing with even Bruce admitting things seemed a little off. It seemed as if Steve had taken the time to read Tony’s file, creating a judgement that the guy behind Iron Man’s armour was just another asshole, selfish guy who only looked out for himself. Tony could tell just by looking the man in the eye as they bickered (“Oh because you’re all about style,” Steve had deadpanned, giving an unimpressed look. Tony just made a face, raising his eyebrows slightly as he replied: “Out of the people in this room, which one is a) wearing a spangly outfit and b) not of use?”)

When Fury’s plan to use the Teseract to build weapons was revealed, neither Steve nor Tony could help but continue to bicker. They got into each other’s faces, glaring at the other as they spat insult after insult. Loki’s manipulation escalated the situation and before anyone knew it, Steve and Tony were only a width apart.

A knife couldn’t have cut the tension as both men stared into each other’s eyes. One part of Tony wanted to grab the man and kiss his annoyingly perfect lips whilst the other part wanted to punch him in the face. (Steve wanted to do the same but he pushed the thought away immediately).

Steve leant in a little, telling Tony what he already knew: he’d seen the footage and read the files on Tony. The billionaire just stood passively as Captain America dug in, stating his selfishness and how other men were worth 10 of him.

“You know, you may not be a threat but you better stop pretending to be a hero,” Steve stared right at Tony with dislike bouncing off of him.

“A hero? Like you?” Tony stepped forward slightly, the space between them getting smaller as he dug in with his own words. “You’re a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle.”

“Put on the suit,” Steve repeated, voice full of passion and contempt. They were in each other’s faces again, squaring up with intensity.

Suddenly the whole ship moved, an explosion causing everyone to fall to the floor as the lights turned red. A loud siren blared through the air as Steve helped Tony stand up, the anger from before gone. He wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist as he helped him get out the doorway despite the ship’s vibrations.

“Put on a suit!” Steve yelled without the heat from before, something akin to worry in his eyes.

“Yep,” Tony faltered for a second, his mind going to Peter. It seemed his hopes to be home soon weren’t going to come true. As long as he made it back, Tony was prepared to do all it took to make Peter happy again.

——————

There was a missile heading straight towards Manhattan. Tony could see it in all its horrible glory, sailing through the air with the intent of blowing up the whole island. All Tony could think about as it threatened to murder thousands of innocent lives was how thankful he was that Peter wasn’t there. Both him and Pepper should be heading back to Malibu by now— far away from the aliens and the dangers of New York.

Grabbing the missile, his arms coming up to secure it on his back, Tony didn’t even think twice about what it meant to be holding on to a highly dangerous weapon like he was. All he could think about was Peter. He thought of the kid crying only a few days ago, begging him to stay. He’d promised to come back. Tony wished he could see Peter one last time.

Steve was talking to him through the comms, something sad in his voice when he realised what Tony was going to be doing. The giant hole in the sky where all the aliens were flying out of was approaching quickly as Tony kept the missile on his back. As much as it broke his heart thinking about how upset Peter would be, Tony knew this was the right thing to do.

“JARVIS,” he tried to speak calmly, his eyes looking up at the vastly approaching hole where the vacancy of space lied. “Call Pepper.” Tony hoped she would answer so he could speak to his son one last time. Peter didn’t have a phone yet so calling Pepper was his best shot of hearing his kid’s voice.

The sound of the phone ringing filled his ears as the giant hole got nearer and nearer. Please pick up, Tony begged over and over again. Please let me talk to Peter, he kept repeating the words in his head until he eventually flew into the large hole and the call disconnected.

Space was terrifying. It was so quiet and cold, the bitterness creeping through his suit as Tony pushed the missile towards the alien ship, watching as it exploded with no sound. The dark blue scene before him lit up as debris flew everywhere. The explosion was huge, the missile that had been threatening the lives of thousands instead saving everyone in Manhattan.

The flying aliens paused and died, all of them floating with no movement in the cold space. Tony blinked a few times as he started to lose consciousness, the air too thin for him to breathe even with the suit on. He thought of Peter, safe and away from the hell New York was currently suffering. He thought about how he’d lied to his son. He thought about how he would never see Peter grow up or get to hear his voice again.

As Tony closed his eyes, trying to take his mind off of how scary space currently was, he saw Peter’s face. The hole behind him was starting to close, soon trapping him to float endlessly around nothing for the rest of eternity.

As he closed his eyes, he fell.

(“We won.”)

Chapter Text

Peter kicked the grass at his feet, not stopping until he could see the Earth underneath it. He was currently in Central Park, running around in the sun whilst Happy sat on a bench only a few metres away, watching him like a hawk. It had been a day and a half since his father left and Peter felt like it had been an eternity. The only thing that managed to distract him was being able to go out and play.

“You know, you might have more fun if you stop kicking at the ground and try to make some friends,” Happy yelled from where he sat. There was a jungle gym not too far from them, the sounds of children laughing and screaming drifting over to where Peter was currently kicking the ground.

Peter just glared at Happy, kicking the ground again for good measure. The forehead of security just gave his Boss’ son another look, making the 10 year old groan as he sauntered off to where there was a group of children playing.

Despite his Dad being extremely charismatic, Peter was a rather shy child. When out of his shell and more relaxed with a person, the kid could become a terror with his non-stop talking and bombarding questions but when meeting new people, Peter tended to keep quiet. This meant making friends was normally a large obstacle Peter never really tried to climb.

All the children playing on the jungle gym were extremely loud. Their screams of laughter and “tag you’re it” burst Peter’s eardrums, making him internally shrink. He tried approaching several groups of loud kids but eventually gave up when they either ignored him or bluntly asked who he was and why he was there. After stuttering over a few hellos, Peter just decided that sitting inside the jungle gym in the almost-quiet was just as much fun as playing outside it with a large group of people.

As Peter crawled into the wooden cave, the only light coming from the large hole he had to walk through to get in, Peter realised he wasn’t alone. Another kid sat on the ground, knees pulled up to his chest and watching as Peter walked in with large eyes.

“Oh, uh hi,” Peter paused, redness spreading up his cheeks as he realised he was intruding in the boy’s space. “I’ll just, uh, go—“

“You can sit if you want,” the boy shrugged, watching Peter move in more and sit opposite him inside the small space. The laughter from the children running around the jungle gym quietened out as they sat in almost awkward silence for a few seconds.

The boy looked to be around Peter’s age with a mop of dark brown hair and a chubby face. As he moved his legs down so they weren’t hugging his chest, Peter realised the kid was wearing a Star Wars top.

“I love Star Wars!” The words slipped out awkwardly as the excitement of seeing someone wear his favourite film franchise on their top bubbled up.

“Really?” The kid’s face lit up as he nodded excitedly. “Me too! My favourite character is Han Solo!”

“I like Luke Skywalker more,” Peter shrugged, a large smile growing across his face. “I want to be a Jedi when i grow up.”

“I’m Ned,” the kid, Ned, smiled back at Peter. There was something about his face that just screamed ‘friendly’ and as Peter looked at him, he got the impression that they were going to be good friends.

“Peter,” he replied, shuffling closer. They spent what felt like hours talking about Star Wars and Lego’s, both of them realising that they had very similar interests. Peter liked his friends back in Malibu but they didn’t share the same passion for building Lego Death Stars like Peter and Ned did.

“Edward!” A woman’s voice called from outside, getting louder as she approached. “It’s time to go home!”

“Bye Peter,” Ned pushed himself to his feet, starting to run away to where his mother stood but pausing for a second. “Will you be here tomorrow? I live in Queens but i can beg my mum to let us come back again?”

Peter knew that tomorrow was the day Aunt Pepper scheduled for him to go back to Malibu with her. Everything was packed and ready to go. But as Peter stared at Ned again, the kid’s eyes wide and full of hope, Peter decided he didn’t want to go back to Malibu.

“Yeah! I’ll see you here tomorrow?”

“Around 12?”

“Sure!” Peter waved goodbye as he watched Ned catch up to his mum, a little girl who looked just like Ned holding their mother’s hand before the entire family walked off.

“You ready to go kid?” Happy spoke up, suddenly appearing beside Peter with a bored look on his face. They began to walk to the edge of the park where the car was parked, climbing into the sleek model with ease.

“Hey, Uncle Hap, do you think Aunt Pepper will let me stay another few days in New York?” Peter voiced his concerns as they sped through New York’s busy traffic.

“And why would you want to stay?” Happy banged on the wheel in frustration, annoyed at the drivers around him. He gave the boy a confused look when he had a moment to spare. Peter just shrugged in answer. “Well, i’m pretty sure she’s going to say no.”

Aunt Pepper did in fact say no.

“But please Aunt Pepper! Just for one more day!” Peter begged no more than an hour after he’d made the plans with Ned. He pressed his hands together and gave her his best puppy dog eyes (as Tony called it).

“No Peter,” Pepper sighed, giving him her best unimpressed look. It was normally reserved only for Tony but on the odd times she had to step in and be the strict parent/ carer to Peter, he normally cowered from it. “I have work and meetings back in Malibu for tomorrow afternoon, i need to be going back tonight.”

“I can stay here by myself!”

Pepper just crossed her arms and glared. “You’re 10 years old, you can’t stay in a different state all by yourself.”

“Technically i’m 65,” Peter mumbled under his breath. Pepper just rolled her eyes, having heard his mumbled comment.

“We aren’t getting into this again,” she gave him a hard look. “You aren’t staying in New York without supervision. End of story.”

“What if Happy stays?” Peter yells out, pointing to the man standing by the door.

Immediately, Happy shook his head. “No can do, i’ve got work too.”

“I thought part of your job was being my professional babysitter?” Peter shot back with a smug look. Happy stepped forward, a glare with no heat on his face.

“God, this kid is acting more and more like Tony with each passing day.“

“Don’t remind me,” Pepper sighed. “Sorry Pete, no one can look after you so you have to come back with us.”

“What about May and Ben?” Peter fluttered his eyelids one more time. He didn’t know why he didn’t think of the Parkers before that moment, they were the perfect way for him to stay and see Ned and tomorrow. Coupled with the fact he hadn’t seen his grand-niece in what felt like years, Peter was excited by the prospect. “Please Aunt Pepper!”

Pepper bit her lip for a second, a clear sign that she was close to caving, as she pulled out her phone. “I’ll have to check with them,” she sighed, pulling up May’s number and bringing the phone to her ear. As the phone rang, she gave Peter a look. “If she says no, you’re coming with us— end of story, okay?”

Peter nodded his head, watching as Pepper walked away to talk to May without prying eyes. He crossed his fingers as she approached several minutes later, sighing and pocketing her phone.

“May says that she would love for you to come.”

“Yay!” Peter cheered, jumping up in excitement. “Thank you Aunt Pepper.”

“How’s he going to get home though?” Happy frowned, not looking like he liked the idea of Peter being in a different state without him to make sure he was okay.

“Dad can pick me up when he comes back,” Peter suggested, shrugging casually. “You can say it’s his punishment for skipping that meeting last week.”

“He missed the meeting because you were ill,” Pepper raised her eyebrows with a small smirk.

“Since when did you care about technicalities?” Peter sassed back.

Happy chuckled, ruffling Peter’s hair with a smile. “Maybe it isn’t so much as bad thing that he’s like Tony if he uses it against his father.”

Peter didn’t think there was anything wrong with being like his father.

——————

Peter waved goodbye as Happy drove himself and Pepper away from the apartment building that Peter and the Parkers were standing outside of. May had her arm wrapped around Peter’s shoulder as they walked back into the small flat they owned, smiling down at her grand-uncle (which was so weird to say considering the kid looked 10).

“I haven’t seen you in so long,” Peter beamed at May and Ben, sitting down on the sofa with a sigh. It was just coming up to dinnertime, Pepper’s flight leaving in about an hour so Peter was planning to be fed by May or Ben. He hoped they’d get Thai like they did a few months ago when he stayed for one night so his Dad could go to some Stark Industries Gala.

“We missed you squirt,” Ben ruffled his hair with a booming smile. “You want Thai tonight?”

It was like he read his mind, Peter thought as he nodded. “Yes, please!”

“I would say May could cook for us but we want to give you back to your Dad alive,” Ben joked in a hushed tone, making Peter laugh loudly.

“I heard that!” May yelled from the kitchen, walking into the living room where her husband and Peter sat with matching smirks. “I can cook!”

“You can cook May,” Ben nodded, pretending to be serious. “The food is just not edible.”

May just rolled her eyes, her smirk looking identical to Peter’s. “I was actually going to suggest Thai anyway.”

“Sure you were,” Peter sassed, receiving a high five from Ben and a laugh. He liked coming to the Parkers’ house; out of all his mother’s side of the family, May and Ben were his favourites. They weren’t too old or young and they treated him like a normal kid. Most of his extended family would just look at him with pity or sadness (his half-sister, May’s mum, would almost always tear up whenever Peter entered the room) and his mother’s niece, Sharon, had stared at him like he was a ghost the first time they’d ever met.

“Can i go to Central Park tomorrow?” Peter asked as they wandered through Queens to where their favourite Thai restaurant was. The people who owned it were always nice to the couple whenever they went and doted on Peter each time he came.

“What for?” May frowned down at him, her hand on the top of his head whilst Ben held onto Peter’s hand. They’d both lived in New York long enough to know that when it got dark, it was best to just keep a hold of people so no trouble came.

Peter shrugged, “I wanna meet a friend.”

“And who is this friend?” Ben waggled his eyebrows to make Peter laugh. “You got a girlfriend, Pete?”

“Ew no,” Peter scrunched up his nose. “His name is Ned and he likes Star Wars!”

“And you’ve met this Ned before?” May held open the door for them when they reached the restaurant, waiting a few minutes to get served a table.

Peter nodded. “Yep, today! He’s super cool. He even likes Legos!”

“Well then he’s perfect for you,” Ben teased. “But i don’t know about tomorrow, buddy. I’m working until 4 and May has the night shift after that.”

“May, can you take me before your shift?” Peter begged, fluttering his eyelids at her.

“Sorry Peter, i promised to help a friend out in the apartment opposite ours. She just moved in and we were going to paint her bedroom. You can help if you want?”

Peter slumped slightly, disappointment filling him. “Nah.”

“Cheer up buddy,” Ben squeezed his hand as they were shown to their usual spot. “If you show us a smile i’ll let you get a second desert.”

“Really?” Peter smiled as they got settled in.

“Really,” Ben replied with a smile of his own. Peter forgot just how much he’d actually missed Ben and May. Even if he was upset about missing Ned, Peter was still glad he got to stay with them for a little while.

——————

The next morning, Peter couldn’t let his disappointment for not being able to meet Ned go. He sat on his bed (May and Ben had allocated their spare room to be Peter’s room each time he visited) and stared at his bedsheets in a grump. Ben had promised he would try and make it up to him by taking him to Central Park tomorrow but Peter knew by then it would be too late. He’d promised to meet Ned that day and going tomorrow wasn’t going to help his situation.

May was currently in the opposite apartment, helping her friend paint her new bedroom a repugnant pink colour. Peter had taken one look at the baby pink on the walls and blanched. If his Dad had seen it, he would’ve gaged as well.

It was only when Peter turned his head, his gaze looking out the window, did he start to form a plan. Like a lightbulb flashing on, Peter suddenly jumped to his feet and pulled the window up. The fire escape was right before him, leading down to the alley behind May and Ben’s building. He could easily walk down it and find his own way to Central Park without the Parkers ever having to know.

Peter knew he was going to be in so trouble if either Ben or May found out (which would then lead to even more trouble when they eventually told his Dad) but he didn’t care as he climbed out the window and started making his way down to the ground. He’d made a promise to Ned and he wanted to uphold it. There weren’t that many kids that Peter knew who said they preferred the original trilogy of Star Wars (with all the old effects and fight scenes) to the prequel trilogy.

Waving down a taxi ended up being far easier than Peter thought it would be and the smelly old guy driving the yellow cap didn’t even bat an eyelid as a 10 year old kid sat alone in the back seats. “Where to?” He huffed out the comment, chewing his gum with yellow teeth. Peter cringed at the sight of the greying man; he was used to drivers like Happy who dressed in suits and looked fancy.

“Central Park, please,” Peter did up his seatbelt as the guy whizzed off into the traffic with a low mumble of something unintelligible. He still had time to make his meeting with Ned, the clock on the dashboard reading 11:23.

“Cough up the money kid,” the driver turned around in his seat with a glare when he parked. Peter produced the sleek, dark credit card his Dad had forced him to always carry around, giving it to the man to pay. Whilst Tony thought Peter was too young for a phone, he didn’t think he was too young to have his own credit card. He’d said it was just for emergencies only but Peter wasn’t really sure what classified as an emergency.

The driver whistled, processing the card before giving it back to Peter. “Who’d you rob kid?”

Peter just frowned, getting out the car. As if he’d ever steal.

It was only a few minutes past 12 when Peter finally made it back to the same jungle gym he and Ned had hid in yesterday. He’d been forced to run through the park when he realised the driver had dropped him off a way away from where the spot he’d promised to meet Ned would be. By the time Peter arrived, he was red faced and slightly sweaty.

“You came!” Ned cheered as Peter approached slightly out of breath. “I was getting worried.”

“I made a promise,” Peter finally caught his breath, giving Ned a smile. “You wanna play?”

“Sure! What you want to play?”

“How about Jedi and Sith?”

“Awesome! I’ll be the Sith!” Ned jumped at the chance, picking up a stick and swinging it around like it was lightsaber. Peter followed his actions, pretending that he was Luke Skywalker learning how to be a Jedi for the first time. He honestly felt like he hadn’t laughed as much as he did that day in years as they played. Ned was just so fun and cool.

And then the screaming started.

Peter dropped his stick, a frown on his face as the screams and honks of car horns became deafening. People were running around the park and on the streets like something was chasing them, their hands trying to cover their heads as they sprinted in different directions. He was about to open his mouth and wonder aloud at what was scaring everyone when Peter finally noticed it.

A hole had opened up above New York, massive in size and black in colour. Aliens were zooming out of it, some large and worm looking, others skinnier with nasty snarls. They were attaching to buildings and dropping down to the streets, killing people as they went. As Peter looked around, terror filled him: New York looked devastating with rubble littering the floor, abandoned and smashed cars on the streets and people running around screaming.

“Boys, we need to go!” Ned’s mother rushed forward, her hand going out to grab her son’s arm. Fear was evident on her face but she was clearly trying to hide that by trying to drag her son into safety.

Peter was going to follow them, his heart racing a thousand beats each second, when he suddenly realised where the hole was coming from. A large beam was coming from the top of Stark Tower, something on the roof clearly causing the entire thing. Just as Peter realised where the aliens were coming from, Iron Man zoomed through Peter’s eye-line, shooting down aliens and saving people’s lives.

Dad, Peter’s heart hammered. He broke away from where Ned and his mother were trying to hide, ignoring their shouts and screams for him to come back. All Peter knew was that his Dad was close and he needed to see him.

The New York streets were worse when Peter broke free from the sheltered safety of Central Park. Without trees and places to hide, the streets were full of screaming people running around in a panic. Aliens were shooting at people with loud roars and bits of buildings were coming tumbling down as they were slowly destroyed.

Peter tried not to focus on his fear as he attempted to race towards Stark Tower. People were running into him, the majority of people going the opposite way to him. A few strangers would stop and grab his arm, their voices high and full of terror as they asked him if he was okay. Peter would just rip his arm out of their grip, bruises forming on his forearms as he continued to run.

He wasn’t too far away when one of the aliens shot at him. Peter screamed as the shot missed him by a mere centimetre, falling to the ground in an attempt to save himself. The gravel scraped at his skin and Peter could feel his lip starting to bleed as he tried to push himself into the ground so the alien couldn’t see him.

His plan failed. The alien drew closer, growling as he moved with his gun raised and trained on the small child. Peter let out a small whimper, closing his eyes as terrible thoughts about how he would never see his Dad again crossing his mind as the alien pulled the trigger.

Except nothing happened. Peter opened one eye, lifting his grazed face off the ground to see a man standing over him. The guy was dressed in a blue suit, red and white decorating it like the American flag. In the guy’s hand, protecting both him and Peter, was a large shield.

Peter couldn’t help but watch in awe as the man stood up from where he’d practically thrown himself down to protect the small kid, throwing his shield out with ease and killing the alien without breaking a sweat. In the back of his mind, Peter was very aware of the fact that he had a bear back home in Malibu dressed in the exact same way as this guy.

“Are you alright kid?” The man turned to look at him when the alien was dead. His voice was deep and friendly, the blue eyes behind his mask full of concern.

Peter nodded his head, wiping a few tears away from his eyes. There was blood dribbling down his chin and his cheek felt bruised but Peter tried to not let his pain show through.

“Where are your parents?” The man asked again, taking a small step forward. Peter didn’t reply, his wide eyes staring up at the superhero in awe.

“Are you lost?” The guy tried once more. “My name is Steve, you can trust me.”

“I’m Peter,” he replied in a shaky voice. “I’m trying to get to my Dad.”

“You need to find somewhere to hide,” Steve frowned slightly. “You can find your Dad later.”

“But he might need me!” Peter argued, his learnt Stark stubbornness showing through.

“He needs you to be safe more, son,” Steve sighed, waving over a nearby police officer. The officer came over immediately, clearly soaking in everything Captain America was saying. “Take this boy to safety, he shouldn’t be so near to the danger.”

“Of course Captain,” the officer grabbed a hold of Peter’s shoulder, nodding stiffly at Steve.

“You be safe kid,” Steve yelled to Peter as he ran off to fight more aliens, throwing his shield around with super strength. The officer holding Peter mumbled about how cool he was under his breath.

“I need to get to my Dad,” Peter whined as the officer moved him further and further away from Stark Tower: where his Dad was most likely to be.

“You can find him afterwards,” the officer just shrugged. He was a middle-aged man with dark skin and a friendly face. There were a few cuts on his cheeks and arms but didn’t seem to be in any pain as he held a firm grip on Peter, moving him away from the battle. “Come on, kid.”

Peter followed the guy for a little while, the both of them navigating their way through the now-deserted Manhattan streets. Cars were abandoned everywhere, buggies were thrown sideways and personal possessions were shattered to pieces as they walked through the eerie scene. They were nearing the Police Department, no doubt a shelter for thousands of terrified New Yorkers, when Peter spotted his Dad zooming through the air in all his red and gold glory.

“Dad! Dad!” Peter screeched as Iron Man whizzed through the air, something heavy looking sitting on his back. The police officer’s grip tightened as Peter tried to pull away, the both of them watching as Iron Man narrowly missed flying straight into Stark Tower. As he flew upwards towards the hole, Peter was finally able to see what the object on his Dad’s back was.

A missile.

His father was flying into the giant hole with a missile on his back and there was nothing Peter could do to stop him. He let out a cry, his heart ripping out as tears flowed down his face when his Dad disappeared from sight into the hole. Inhuman screeches broke out of Peter’s throat, his legs wobbling as he struggled to stay up.

His Dad was gone. His Dad was gone. His Dad was gone.

His Dad was back.

Iron Man fell through the closing hole in the sky, falling down like doll being dropped. Peter’s sobs continued to rack through his body as the officer picked him up, carrying him the rest of the way to the safety of the Police Department.

All Peter wanted was to know his Dad was okay.

Chapter Text

By the end of the day, all Tony wanted to do was sleep for a decade. New York was safe, the alines were gone and Loki was once again in SHIELD’s custody without any escape tactics this time. The concept of sleep was just on his horizon and it was welcoming.

“I’m sorry about your Tower,” Steve mumbled almost awkwardly as the rest of the so-called Avengers crashed for several hours after the major battle. They’d have to send Loki off back to Asgard with Thor soon but just for now, they all appreciated the break.

All of Tony’s bones ached. He guessed falling from a hole in the sky only to get caught in a death grip from the Hulk and dropped on the floor would result in a few aching muscles. Sighing, he took a small sip out of the alcohol in his glass, glancing around the destroyed room. There was broken glass and rubble littered around from when they’d finally caught Loki.

“It isn’t like i can’t afford to fix it,” Tony brushed it over with a wave of his hand. The rest of the Avengers were looking just like him: exhausted and slightly worse for wear. Natasha was spread out on the sofa to Tony’s left, an ice pack pressed to her head as she stared up at the ceiling with tired eyes; Clint was at her feet on the floor, head pressed to his knees. Thor was crashing around in the kitchen, searching high and low for Pop Tarts that Tony had promised he was stocked up on; Bruce was somewhere else trying to de-Hulk and Steve was sitting on the same sofa as Tony, his mask on the floor and his face covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Things aren’t ever going to be the same, are they?” Natasha mused, her voice sounding far away and dazed over. Tony just sighed, taking another sip of the liquid in his glass.

A sudden ringing filled the air, Tony’s pocket buzzing as his phone went crazy. He had no doubt it was Pepper calling from Malibu— finally returning the call he’d made hours earlier.

“Tony? Tony!” Pepper’s frantic voice filled his speakers. Tony groaned in response, pushing up from the sofa and walking a little away from the rest of the Avengers. “Tony, can you hear me?”

“Yes i can hear you Pepper; it took you long enough to return my call,” he sassed with no heat.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Pepper shrieked down the line, making Tony wince. “You just flew a missile into that hole about Stark Tower! What could you have possibly been thinking?”

“I was thinking that i would saving everyones lives in Manhattan,” Tony hissed.

“You have a son, Tony! I thought your reckless actions were finished with! What is Peter meant to think when he sees the news about you almost dying?”

“I wasn’t being reckless,” Tony ground his teeth together. “I was trying to be sacrificial.”

“You don’t get to be sacrificial when you have a kid,” Pepper sounded extremely angry as she hissed the words.

“Try telling that to the thousands of people who were about to get nuked out of existence.”

Pepper sighed down the line, obviously conceding. “I’m glad you’re okay, Tony.”

“Can you put Peter on the phone, please?” Tony sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I need to hear my son’s voice.”

The line down Pepper’s end went deadly silent, something akin to dread flowing through to Tony’s end. “Oh God Tony, i didn’t even think! I completely forgot! After i saw the news about you i was so caught up i didn’t even stop to think—“

“Think about what, Pepper?” Tony frowned, fear consuming him. Why was Pepper getting so worked up? “Where’s Peter?”

“He begged to stay in New York!” Pepper sounded close to tears as she uttered the words. “Happy and I left him with Ben and May until you could pick him up! We left him in New York.”

It was like ice was poured down his back, everything fear of Tony’s bubbling up as he realised his son had been on the same island that the nuke had threatened several hours earlier. He tried to push down his fears as he said goodbye to Pepper.

“He would’ve been in Queens then,” he tried to convince himself. “So he should be fine.” Tony dialled May’s number, the time it took for the phone to ring making him stressed. Please, please, please, he begged.

“Hello?” May’s frantic voice filled the line, terror sounding in her voice. All Tony’s hopes were squashed as he bit out his words.

“Where is my son, May? Where’s Peter? Pepper said she left him with you.”

“Tony? Oh God, Tony!” May sobbed down the line, someone shushing her as she cried (no doubt it was probably Ben).

“What May? Tell me where my son is!” Tony couldn’t help but yell the words, ignoring the rest of the Avenger’s worried gazes from behind him. It was like someone had stabbed him in the heart, his stomach turning with anxiety. Why was May crying? Oh God not Peter . . .

“Tony, i’m so sorry—“ May sobbed before getting cut off.

“Tony?” Ben’s voice came over the line. He sounded scared but far more preserved than his wife. “Peter was staying with us but when we went to check on him, he was missing.”

“Missing? How?”

“I came home from work around 4:00,” Ben carried on. “When i went into Peter’s room, his window was open and he was gone. We think he climbed down the fire escape. May and I have been searching for him for hours and then the attack happened and we-“

“He wouldn’t have been anywhere near that, though right?” Tony prayed Ben said yes.

Ben swallowed loudly. “We don’t know. Yesterday Peter was begging us to take him to Central Park to meet some friend he’d met. We thought he might’ve gone there.”

Tony gagged, his heart racing a thousand beats as he thought about his son. If Peter had gone to Central Park, he would’ve been right where the attack was taking place. The thought filled Tony with both dread and fear. His son could very well be dead.

“Tony?” Steve called out gently, having walked closer to where the genius was standing, putting a hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Peter’s missing,” Tony swallowed the words, looking around at the other Avengers with plain fear in his eyes. Nat sat up on the sofa, a grim look on her face as she worried about the young boy she’d met a few years ago.

“Peter?” Steve didn’t catch on, searching Tony’s face for any help.

“My son; SHIELD didn’t put that on the files you read?”

“I must’ve missed it,” Steve frowned, his concern growing. After the battle and Tony’s sacrifice play, the American hero had developed a growing respect for the man before him. “We’ll help you find your son, Tony.”

“You got any recent pictures?” Clint asked, pushing himself up from the floor. Determination was settled on his face as both he and Nat walked to where Tony stood. Thor was still too buy munching on Pop Tarts to notice the dive in the atmosphere around him.

“Yeah,” Tony patted his trousers for his wallet, knowing a picture of Peter would be in there. When he couldn’t find it, Tony let out a growl in frustration. He looked around the room frantically before making his way over to the bar where a framed picture of Peter at his 10th birthday was sitting. It was one of Tony’s favourites by far: the kid had the cutest look on his face as he blew out his candles and just in the background, Tony could be seen sitting beside Peter with complete devotion in his eyes.

“That’s him,” Tony pointed to Peter as if it wasn’t obvious, with a shaking finger. “That’s Peter.”

Steve let out a choked sound, leaning in closer to look at the picture better. “I met him.”

“You what? When?” Natasha frowned, looking up from the picture of the birthday party she remembered attending to Steve’s pale face.

“During the battle,” Steve turned to look at Tony with a small frown. “He was running towards the Tower when one of the aliens attacked him— i had to practically jump onto him in order to put my shield between them. I killed the alien and told one of nearby officers to move him to safety.”

“You saved my son?” Tony blinked up at Steve with respect.

“He’s safe, Tony,” Steve nodded, a small smile on his face.

“Thank you,” was all Tony could say as he looked at the man like he was seeing him for the first time. His Dad had always favoured good ol' Captain America as Tony had been growing up, feeding him story after story about the Avenger’s exploits in the war. In a way, Tony had always felt like he could never properly compare to Steve— even when the man had been missing for almost 70 years, the shadow of Captain America had weighed heavily over Tony’s head throughout his childhood like he was always trying to reach impossible expectations.

But Steve wasn’t actually that bad. Sure, he was a bit of a goody-two-shoes and he seemed to think rules equated to law but he wasn’t a complete asshole. He cared about people and put himself in danger to save others; Tony respected that. And Steve had saved his son so it wasn’t like he could hate the man now.

“I’ll come with you to find him,” Steve nodded, the guilt for all he’d said to Tony on the ship coming up. He’d said some rather horrible things, all of which had been disproved the second Tony had attached the missile on his back with the intention of risking his life to save thousand others. The least Steve could do was help him find Peter.

Tony nodded, ignoring his pained bones as he rushed to grab his coat and keys so they could navigate their way through the destroyed Manhattan streets. Even only hours after the end of the battle, the majority of the cars had been pushed out the way and everyone was doing their part to help the cleanup effort. It made it all the more easy to find the street that Steve had last seen Peter in.

“It was there,” Steve pointed out to a random spot on the road not too far from the Tower. “So my guess is the nearest Police Department will be where Peter is.”

“I swear if they lost or hurt my kid i’ll sue them for everything they own,” Tony grumbled, being careful to avoid rubble as he drove further on to the next Department.

“I don’t know if you can sue the entire Police Department,” Steve let out a genuine laugh, finally taking some time to appreciate the man’s jokes beside him.

“Watch me.”

They parked the car, the engine not even properly turned off before Tony was running out the car to the Police Department doors. Steve managed to catch up just as Tony threw open the doors to see the chaos inside. People were huddled together, tears and dried blood on their faces as they patched themselves up or calmed down. The air smelt rather sweaty and gross but Tony didn’t care as he searched the place for his son.

The Police Department was so busy and hectic, people yelling left, right and centre that no one even noticed when the two Avengers stepped in. Crying filled the air as mothers bounced their small children in their arms and people sobbed down the phone to family and friends.

Tony couldn’t help but feel claustrophobic as he squished past families and strangers, his eyes looking everywhere for his son. “Peter?” He called out throughout the chaos, his voice drowned out from the yelling of others. “Peter?”

“Dad?” Tony knew he would recognise that voice anywhere no matter the volume of the room or how weak Peter sounded as he spoke. He followed the sound of Peter’s voice until he spotted the kid pressed up near the back of the busy Police Department, his clothes ripped at his knees and dried blood smeared across his face. Peter looked like he’d been crying as he stood alone.

“Peter!” Tony yelled, rushing forward, not caring if he had to shove a few people out of the way first. The second he was close enough, he fell to his knees and pulled his son into his arms. Peter smelt like he always did and Tony couldn’t help but feel relief, trying to quell the terrifying thoughts that if Steve hadn’t been there, he may never have been able to smell that again.

“Dad,” Peter sobbed into Tony’s neck, his voice breaking as he clung to his father in desperation. Tony had a few cuts on his face and looked extremely tired but he was alive. That was all Peter cared about.

“Oh God Peter,” Tony pulled away, letting some of his frustration and anger seep in. “What the hell were you thinking? Sneaking off from May and Ben without them knowing, huh? You could’ve died, Peter! I could’ve lost you!” Tony stared at his son with desperate eyes, gripping Peter’s shoulders almost a little too tight.

“What about you?” Peter sniffed, tears still flowing down his face. “You almost broke your promise! You promised you’d come back to me but then you left— again!”

“What are you. . .?” Tony paused before remembering the wormhole and the missile he’d flown into it with. “You saw, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question but Peter nodded anyway.

“You just kept falling, Dad,” he sobbed.

Tony pulled Peter back into a hug, letting his anger go for a second so he could comfort him. “Shush, shush; i’m okay. I came back, didn’t i?”

“I don’t know why you did it,” Peter cried. “Why did you fly into it?”

“I had to Peter—“

“No you didn’t!”

Tony sighed, pulling out of the hug to look Peter in the eye. He wiped a few tears away, guilt eating at him as Tony looked at his crying son. “Yes i did. But i’m here and i’m okay and i love you. That will never change, buddy.”

“I’m sorry i snuck out,” Peter sniffed.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Tony kissed his son’s forehead, groaning as he stood back up. “Let’s go find Capsicle and then we can leave, okay?”

“Who?” Peter frowned, sticking close to his Dad as they navigated their way through the busy Police Department back to the exit. When he noticed Steve standing awkwardly by the doors, Peter’s face lit up. “Hey, i know you! You’re Steve, yeah?”

“And you’re Peter,” Steve smiled down at the kid. There was something familiar about the brown orbs on Peter’s face but Steve couldn’t put his finger on it. All he knew was Tony had a cute kid. “I told you you would find your Dad later.”

“Dad, you know Steve?” Peter asked innocently as they left the Police Department, the noise dying down once they were back on the mostly deserted streets.

“Yeah kiddo, this here is Captain America— we’re, uh, work friends.”

“You’re Captain America?!” Peter shrieked when they were all in the car. “How did i not realise that?” He thought back to Mr Bear with his Captain America hat and how the teddy had been the only thing he thought could keep him safe for years.

Steve laughed as Tony started up the car to drive them home. “I though the shield had made it obvious.”

“Wow, i can’t believe i was saved by Captain America,” Peter mumbled. “And he’s friends with my Dad!”

“Close your mouth, Pete, you’re drooling,” Tony joked, glancing into the rear-view mirror with a roll of his eyes as his son fanboyed over Steve.

“Mr Captain America, sir?” Peter piped up a few minutes later as they neared the Tower.

“Call me Steve, Peter,” Steve smirked, never having guessed that Tony’s son could be so polite.

“I just want to say thank you for saving me earlier.”

“It’s alright Peter, i’m glad you’re okay,” Steve smiled at the young boy as Tony parked the car.

Tony couldn’t help but smile as well as he wrapped an arm around his son, grateful that he was alive and well. Steve was the reason that Peter was here, in his arms right now, and Tony couldn’t ignore that fact. Maybe he’s judged Steve too harshly?

Time would tell.

Chapter Text

“You must be Stark’s son!” Thor boomed, his mouth still half full of Pop Tarts when Peter, Tony and Steve walked back into the living room where the Avengers were still relaxing. The God of Thunder smiled at the small boy, his towering height almost three times Peter’s size.

Peter stared up at Thor with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open. He had to lean his head back as far as it could go to be able to stare at the God’s face. “Wow,” he whispered mostly to himself, seemingly awestruck by the man.

“Alright, alright,” Tony grumbled, grabbing his son’s shoulder and moving him more into the room. The rest of the Avengers were all waiting impatiently (apart from Natasha who’d known Peter for years now) for Tony to properly introduce the child he’d been yelling about less than an hour ago. They would never admit it but they’d all been interrogating Nat for information about the kid the second Tony and Steve had gone.

Clint cleared his throat loudly, raising his eyebrows when Tony still didn’t introduce the group to his kid. Their impatience was starting to stretch thin and from the way Tony was smirking slightly, it seemed obvious that he was enjoying teasing them.

“Oh calm down,” he rolled his eyes at the group’s continued staring. “Everyone, this is Peter. Peter this is Legolas, Pointbreak, you’ve met Capsicle, Brucie is somewhere else right now and obviously you know Triple Agent.” He pointed to everyone respectively, ignoring their groans as he used their nicknames instead of real ones (even their superhero names would’ve been better to use).

“Auntie Nat!” Peter yelled, a grin spreading across his face as he rushed towards the SHIELD agent he’d decided was worthy of being another one of his honorary Aunt’s.

“How come you get to be Auntie Nat?” Clint grumbled from where he was now sitting on the sofa, his entire body turned so he could watch as Peter ran to where Natasha was leaning against the back of the sofa beside him.

“Because i’m the best,” Natasha sassed back, opening her arms out for the 10 year old to dash into them. Tony just rolled his eyes at the pair; even though it had been 2 years since the Palladium Poisoning incident, he was still pretending to be annoyed about the fact Natasha had lied to infiltrate his life. (Secretly, he actually liked the bond that Peter and “Auntie Nat” had. Natasha was another strong female figure to bring something to Peter’s life, which Tony didn’t take for granted seeing as he practically raised his son as a single father.)

“Hey, милашка. Giving your Dad grey hairs, i see,” she ruffled his hair as Peter held on tight to her, having missed his Auntie Nat when she’d been away.

“Those were already there,” Peter mumbles against Nat’s chest, closing his eyes as he enjoyed her warm embrace. He liked Aunt Pepper a lot but she was more like a strict parent figure (she was the rock for both him and his Dad and he wouldn’t trade her for the world) whilst Auntie Nat was more like the fun family friend who taught him how to fight and told him stories about missions she’d been on.

“Hey!” Tony pretended to be insulted as he walked over to the bar where his waiting glass of alcohol sat. He stared it for a second before pouring it down the sink. As much as he itched to down a few more shots so the aching would go away, he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea in front of Peter.

“Hey buddy, i’m your Uncle Clint,” the archer leaned over the sofa slightly so he was closer to where Peter and Nat stood. He smiled at the kid when his embrace to Natasha ended, clearly trying to win Peter over with his toothy grin.

“Don’t try and force it Barton,” Natasha growled with no heat, enjoying her best friend’s terrible attempts to get her nephew to favour him instead of her. There was no competition there at all because each time she would win.

“I can be a fun Uncle,” Clint tried to defend himself.

“An irresponsible one sure,” Natasha scoffed.

“Hate to butt in,” Tony called as he poured himself some apple juice from the bar. “But weren’t you the one who tried to teach my kid how to throw knives just last year.”

“Can we do that now?” Peter spoke with excitement, eyes wide and practically beaming. He looked at Natasha with hope, his hands pressing together like he was praying.

“Maybe later,” Natasha smirked at Peter at the exact same time Tony yelled out a loud “No!”

“Hey kid, i can teach you how to shoot arrows,” Clint whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer in the hopes no one else heard him. “Then i’ll be the cool Uncle,” he gave Natasha a smug smile.

“No one is teaching my kid how to throw knives or shoot arrows thank you very much,” Tony downed the apple juice, sighing loudly.

“How about showing him how to summon the power of the Gods?” Thor spoke up innocently, finishing his last Pop Tart. In the back of his mind, Tony made a mental note to always keep the snacks on hand as something told him he didn’t want to see Thor mad about being out of his obvious favourite junk treat.

“That’s a no too, Pointbreak,” Tony couldn’t help but smirk. Steve was silently chuckling to himself across the room and as they made eye contact, Steve’s smirk grew. (Maybe he really wasn’t as bad as Tony thought).

“You’re hurt, малыш,” Natasha frowned, grabbing Peter’s chin and turning his face so she could inspect the small cuts and bruises he’d gotten from the battle. The blood had dried by now, leaving just a small trail running down his face. Natasha quickly rubbed it away, ruffling Peter’s hair with a sad look.

“I’m okay,” Peter shrugged.

“Still looks like you got a few good hits on you,” Clint whistled, not seeming to notice Tony’s growing annoyance across the room.

“Let’s see,” Tony stomped forward, turning Peter around so he could inspect his face. With the dried blood gone, he could easily see the small cut above Peter’s eyebrow and the graze on his cheek. He rubbed his thumb lightly across the bruise on Peter’s temple, the hand holding Peter’s shoulder getting slightly tighter when the kid flinched. “How’d you get hurt?”

“I fell to the ground,” Peter mumbled, purposely leaving out the part about the alien trying to shoot him. Tony just sighed, letting the conversation drop as he walked off to get an ice pack for his son’s face. When he got back, he pressed the cold pack against the side of Peter’s face where the bruise was.

“Ouch, it’s cold!” Peter whined, pouting slightly.

“It’ll help with the bruise,” Steve spoke up, watching the pair. There was something really familiar about Peter, something that intrigued the super soldier that he simply couldn’t put his finger on.

“Doesn’t make it any less cold,” Peter spoke under his breath, loud enough for everyone else to hear. Tony rolled his eyes at the kid’s words, far used to the sass he was sure Peter had picked up from himself. Steve didn’t look too offended at the dig, looking down as he smiled, obviously taking the words as simple humour.

“Ha! Stark, your son seems to have inherited your sass!” Thor boomed, innocently voicing what they were all thinking. “It must run in your bloodline.”

“Peter’s actually adopted,” Tony placed a hand on Peter’s head, gently pulling him against his chest, wrapping the other arm around his front shoulders. “It just makes me a terrible influence.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up at Tony’s words. Peter was adopted? From everything he’d read about the genius’ file, Tony’s past had been full of drunken nights and nameless people coming and going from his bedroom so when he’d realised the man had a son, Steve had immediately jumped to the conclusion that the kid was the result of a one night stand. It shocked Steve that Tony had gone out of his way to take in such a young child given his selfish background.

“That’s what Aunt Pepper would say,” Peter shrugged, brushing off his Dad’s comment. Even though the fact he’d been adopted wasn’t a secret and hadn’t been for years, he knew better than to reveal who his biological mother was. The whole reason Peggy had asked for Tony to take him in had been so his traumatic ordeal of getting kidnapped and frozen for 55 years would remain a secret. It didn’t make sense to throw the information around. Even to his Dad’s new friends.

“Alright kiddo, let’s leave these guys. You and i need to talk.”

Peter sighed, following his Dad to where the elevator was so they could head up to their private floor. However, as the elevator arrived, a dishevelled figure stepped out towards them. His hair was a mess, clothes slightly baggy and glasses were askew.

“Bruce Banner!” Peter yelled, looking even more awestruck than when he met Thor. “Wow!”

“Uh, hi?” Bruce’s voice was weak as he leant on the elevator doors, staring confusedly from between Tony and the small child beside him. “Who’re you?”

“I’m Peter!” The kid beat Tony in introducing himself. “Wow, Dr Banner this is so cool! I’m currently reading your paper on Gamma radiation and it’s so interesting!”

If Bruce looked confused before, he looked completely puzzled now. He couldn’t help but frown at the kid as he spoke about his paper. “You understand that?”

Peter nodded wildly, “Yeah! But if i get confused, Dad normally explains it to me and it makes sense straight away! I think your work is so cool.”

“. . . Dad?” Bruce looks up at Tony, noticing how the billionaire had one hand on the kid’s shoulder.

“Yep that’s me,” Tony nodded. “Meet your super-fan, Brucie: my son, Peter.”

“Err, hi Peter,” Bruce swallowed harshly, looking ready to pass out any second. The colour was gone from his face, no doubt the Hulk having taken all his energy.

“Are you okay Dr Banner?” Peter looked worried as Bruce stumbled a little trying to walk forward. Tony immediately let go of Peter, stepping forward so he could grab his friend and direct him to the sofas were the other Avengers looked on them with worried looks. Natasha quickly walked off to the kitchen to get a glass a water for Bruce.

“I’m fine,” Bruce sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Sweat was sticking his hair to his face as he brushed it out of his eyes. “The other guy just wore me out.”

“Here,” Natasha handed him a glass of water which Bruce drank in seconds. He mumbled a thanks as he finished.

“Do you need help, Banner?” Steve looked worriedly at his new teammate, noticing the physical exhaustion the man seemed to be in after de-Hulking.

Bruce shook his head, leaning back on the sofa just glad to be off his feet. “I’m fine, thanks.” He turned his head to where Peter was hovering by his right with a worried look. “You’re a super-fan, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” Peter’s voice was quieter, watching the man intently.

“I’m afraid i’m not really used to fans ever since the Big Guy. I think he scared them all away.”

“The Hulk doesn’t make you any less a cool scientist,” Peter mumbled, eyes full of innocence. “I’m not scared of the Big Guy, i think you’re both cool. But i think Bruce Banner is cooler.”

“I think you’re the first one to say that,” Bruce smiled, already liking the kid he hadn’t even known Tony had.

Peter shrugged. “To your face at least. What you doing after this?”

“What do you mean?” Bruce frowned again. “As in where i’m staying? Or if i’ll be going back to the Hulk?”

“As in where you’re staying?” Peter spoke innocently. “We have rooms to spare.”

“Kiddo,” Tony jumped in. “You can’t just invite people to live with us!”

“Why not?” Peter frowned at his father. “We have room, Dad!”

“It’s okay Peter,” Bruce cut in. “I don’t want to impose.”

“It wouldn’t be imposing,” Tony retaliated, understanding his son’s point of view. “We do have enough rooms in case you ever want to crash.” He may not agree with Peter in inviting people to come and live with them forever but he didn’t mind opening up his home for a period of time so people could have somewhere to stay. Tony doubted Bruce (or any of the others) had a permanent place to live previous to the invasion. Especially considering Bruce had been in Ghana for several years after the Harlem incident.

“Or move in!” Peter beamed.

“Pete,” Tony sighed. “Don’t yell. Ignore my over-excitable son but there are places to stay if you need somewhere. Like Pete said: we have rooms to spare.”

Bruce bit his lip, debating it over. “I would like that, thank you.”

“Yay!” Peter cheered before turning his gaze to Natasha. “Auntie Nat, you too?”

“As if i could ever say no to my любимый,” she smiled, giving Tony a look for she knew the invitation hadn’t really been expressed to her. “I’m sure Steve would like to stay too.”

“Oh, i don’t know-“ Steve looked awkward, getting cut off by Peter’s cheer.

“You can all stay!” Peter yelled, looking up at his father with an excited face and wide eyes. “Right Dad?”

Tony wanted to say no. He wanted to apologise and say ‘uh, sorry kiddo, no can do’ but Peter was giving him those puppy dog eyes and he was always putting in the kid’s hand when he did that. Even Tony had to admit that having the Avengers stay with them wouldn’t be that bad: they still had the Malibu house to take refuge in and the Tower was so big it didn’t mean they’d see the team every second of the day.

“Sure,” Tony nodded, feeling as if he was shooting himself in the foot. How bad could it be taking in two spies, a super soldier, a God and a scientist with terrible anger issues?

Tony hoped he didn’t grow to hate this decision.

Chapter Text

Ever since he’d received the super serum, Steve’s abilities to do just about anything had improved. His strength was triple the average man, his speed was faster than most professional athletes and his metabolism seemed invincible. This meant that whereas pre-serum he would’ve been unable to do even a jog around the Tower’s Gym, Steve was able to do lap after lap for hours on end without breaking a sweat.

So when he did eventually begin to feel the moisture pooling under his arms and on his back, his breathing significantly sharper and legs slowly aching, Steve knew he’d either pushed himself too hard or been at it for too long.

“What is the time, JARVIS?” Steve leaned against the wall, panting heavily. He’d woken up at the crack of dawn around 4:30 in the morning and been working out without a break ever since.

“It is currently just past 10 o’clock, Captain,” Tony’s AI was polite in his response. At first, Steve had been sceptical about the all-seeing voice that seemed to control just about everything in the Tower. After a while, however, he got used to it and even started to appreciate JARVIS’ handiness.

Steve whistled to himself, knowing that working out for around 5 and a half hours straight was probably not exactly the best thing. He just couldn’t help it; Steve’s mind was whirring constantly, the what ifs and pains about everything he’d lost making it impossible for him to sit still. Sleeping at night was next to impossible as he tossed and turned, thinking about how he’d lost Bucky, how he’d left Peggy and didn’t even know what had happened to all of his friends in the Howling Commandos.

But mostly Steve thought about his son. The child Peggy and he shared, the one who was missing and would probably never be found. A boy he would never meet.

Fury refused to tell Steve anything about the child, stating just that he’d been born in ’46, kidnapped in ’50 and after 45 years of looking, the department searching for his son had been shut down. There were no leads or clues or anything to help even point a person in the direction that the 4 year old had been taken.

A part of Steve demanded to know the truth. Something in him died every time he thought about not knowing what had happened to a child that shared his flesh and blood. An ache blossomed in his heart, stabbing and spreading each time Steve went back to the devastating fact that he didn’t even know his own child’s name. It could be anything in the world and here Steve was, this child’s missing father, not even knowing what it could be.

However, another part of Steve just wanted to lock up this secret and never acknowledge it. Pretending it wasn’t true was easier than having his heart ripped out each time he thought about looking into the case. It had been too long and no one was going to help. It was better for him to just close the tragedy as something he’ll never get over or be able to fully accept. If he never mentioned it then surely it couldn’t be true?

So Steve ran. He woke up at dawn each morning, running laps around the Tower’s large Gym (which was double the size of SHIELD’s) and not stopping as he tried to clear his head. Exercise for some reason helped him to feel more in control.

Steve slid down to the floor, his legs feeling too unstable to be able to hold him up for any longer. He panted as he slid down, pressing his red, hot face into his knees. The tight white shirt Steve hadn’t been bothered to change out of after sleeping was sticking to his torso with an uncomfortable clinginess.

“I thought i’d find you down here,” Tony’s voice filtered into Steve’s consciousness, lifting his head up slightly to see the man before him. The billionaire was dressed casually in jeans and a band shirt, looking down on Steve with an unreadable expression.

“Is there something you want, Tony?” By now, Steve’s breathing had sorted itself out but despite no longer feeling exhausted, his mind was still in shambles. The last thing he wanted— or needed— was Tony’s wise ass cracks.

“Was just going to invite you upstairs, there’s a brunch session in full swing and JARVIS said you hadn’t eaten yet,” Tony shrugged, trying to play nonchalant about it all.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Steve mumbled, running a hand over his face and sighing. “I’ll be up in a second.”

“Take your time, Cap,” Tony called before moving to exit the Gym. Steve waited a few minutes more, trying to convince himself he was okay before pushing up off the floor on slightly shaky knees to walk to the elevator. He was well aware that he’d been less than kind to Tony just now and that the man hadn’t deserved it (especially since weeks after the Battle of New York, Tony was still opening his home up to the Avengers free of charge).

In truth, Steve hadn’t really wanted to move in to the Tower. He’d always thought the building kinda stuck out, looking quite ugly and considering the slightly rocky relationship he and Tony shared, it wasn’t unreasonable to see why Steve had really considered not taking up the offer.

But everyone else had moved in (even Thor when he was on-world) so Steve had decided to just give in and join the bandwagon. And anyway, Tony and Peter hadn’t even been living in the Tower in the first few weeks, instead moving back to Malibu so the kid could finish school. It was only now, when summer was in full swing, was Steve faced with living with Tony properly.

“Steve, there you are!” Peter yelled from where he was sat at the long dining room table, pancake syrup smushed around the large smile on his face. A large plate of fat, fluffy pancakes were placed in the middle of the table, everyone on the team (excluding Thor) and Tony’s best friend, Rhodey, sitting in seats around it, helping themselves to the food. Judging from everyone’s faces, the pancakes seemed to be good. “I thought you weren’t gonna come!”

“Wouldn’t miss this Pete,” Steve couldn’t help but smile at Peter’s adorable face, noticing the only spare seat around the table was next to the kid. As Steve dug into the pancakes, he had to admit they did taste very good.

“Do you like them?” Peter asked, hope shining through his face as he watched Steve for a reaction. “I made them!”

“Wow, way to take credit for other’s achievements Petey,” Rhodey smirked from where he sat opposite Steve, Tony on his left and Natasha on his right. They were all scoffing down the mountain of food like no one’s business.

Peter rolled his eyes with cheeky sass. “All you did was cook them Uncle Rhodey; i made the batter!”

“Wasn’t i the one who suggested having them in the first place?” Tony piped up, pulling an identical expression to Peter’s. “So therefore the credit should go to me.”

Steve smirked at the banter, chuckling to himself as he swallowed another bite. “Well, i think these are the most delicious pancakes i’ve ever tasted. I want to thank YOU Peter for making them.”

Peter puffed his chest out, sticking his tongue out at his father and uncle before giving Steve a wide smile. “Thanks Steve! At least someone appreciates me.”

“Anytime,” Steve replies back, enjoying the way Tony rolls his eyes at the pair. Just as the man was about to make a retort, his phone went off. Steve watched as Tony excused himself, answering the call with a blunt “hello”.

“Maybe you should be a chef,” Clint carried on the conversation, enjoying making Peter smile. In the short time that Tony and Peter had moved back to New York for the summer, Clint had decided to latch onto the kid and establish himself as the cool uncle. Tony had yelled at the archer a good 5 times already for teaching Peter practical jokes (usually on the billionaire himself). Just last week Steve had found Tony’s favourite tablet wobbling inside a large plate of jelly.

“Mixing batter isn’t exactly hard,” Rhodey mumbled under his breath as Clint carried on praising the 10 year old for his culinary gift.

Steve zoned out of the conversation as he watched Tony pace a little way away, a frown on his face. He seemed pissed off about something and Steve couldn’t help but stand up, making his way over just as Tony ended the call with a loud sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Steve kept his voice low so not to alert the others laughing at the table still.

“Nothing,” Tony shook his head, sighing again. “You’re clearly lying.”

“It’s just SI stuff,” the billionaire shrugged. “I have to go back to Malibu to deal with something. Pepper’s insisting.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” Steve frowned.

“Pete’s gonna be a nightmare,” Tony admitted, watching the kid as he laughed with his uncles and aunt. “The problem should be solved in a few days but Peter won’t care about the length, he won’t want to go back to Malibu. He was really excited to stay in New York all summer with everyone.”

“Can’t you leave him here?”

Tony looked at the blonde man as if he were mad. “Rhodey is going back to duty tomorrow so he won’t be able to look after Peter. I can’t leave him alone— even if it is for a few days.”

“He won’t be alone,” Steve crossed his arms, trying to look casual. “We’ll be here.”

Tony scoffed. “Great. I can’t wait to leave my son in the hands of Clint. I’ll come back and the place will be on fire. Or better yet: Peter is left with Natasha and i come home to a child assassin.”

Steve felt awkward slightly, his stomach twisting as he formed the next words. “What about me? I can promise i’ll start no fires and won’t teach your kid to fight. Just a good ‘ol fashioned babysitter.”

It was almost insulting how Tony gave Steve a long look like he was trying to figure him out. He frowned at the man for a seconds, curiosity evident on his face. “You want to look after my son for a few days?”

“He’s a good kid,” Steve shrugged, not wanting to delve deeper into it. He liked Peter— how hard could it be to look after him? “And i’m the lesser of three evils.”

“Well, that’s true,” Tony admitted with a small smirk. “I wouldn’t have pegged Captain America as the babysitter type.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Clearly.”

Steve coughed, clearing his throat as he wondered if the heating in the room had been turned up. Tony’s stare was piercing into his skin and Steve could feel the blush slowly forming on his cheeks as his palms became sweaty. He wiped them on his trousers, clearing his throat for the second time. “At least, i think Peter will be alright with it.”

Tony sighed, dropping his intense gaze. “I’m sure he would. Not many children would give up being looked after by Captain America.”

Turns out, Peter was definitely one of those children. When brunch had been eaten and all the plates cleared away, Tony had told Peter about his trip back to Malibu. Faced with the decision of either joining Tony or staying in New York under Cap’s care, Peter had jumped at the chance to stay behind with Steve. (Tony tried not to be too offended by how quickly Peter had replied).

“You won’t be gone for too long though, right?” Peter bit his lip as he watched his father pack a small bag later that evening. He was sitting on his Dad’s bed, watching as Tony messily threw a change of clothes and toiletries into a suitcase. Tony’s jet was set to take off in half an hour, meaning the time for goodbyes was fast approaching.

“A few days, tops,” Tony nodded, zipping up his bag with a small smile. “You won’t even know i’m gone, kiddo.”

“Yes i will.”

“Just think about all the fun you’ll have with Cap!” Tony leaned forward to ruffle Peter’s hair. “Just be careful, he is like 100 years old.”

Peter giggled. “I’m 65! I’m old too!”

“Don’t remind me,” Tony rolled his eyes. “It makes me feel old when i’m reminded of how much a senior my son is.”

Peter giggled again, jumping off the bed to give his Dad a hug. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, buddy,” Tony sighed, leaning down to kiss the crown of Peter’s head. “No funny buisness when i’m gone, okay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

———————

“Everything will be fine, Tony,” Steve reassured the man as they stood beside the jet. Everything was ready to go, they were just waiting on the billionaire. Tony still didn’t look appeased as he took in Steve’s words, worry evident on his face.

“If anything happens— literally anything— please call me, okay?”

“Of course.”

“And don’t forget his bedtime is at 8:30, 9 on the weekends. Don’t let him eat too much sugar, Pete’s energetic enough without all of that in his system as well. Whatever he says, no he is not allowed coffee and he’s only allowed to watch one Star Wars film each day otherwise he’ll just watch them back to back and you’ll never get around to doing anything. Oh and please, for the love of God, don’t let Clint corrupt my kid.”

“Bedtime is at 8, no coffee and no Clint,” Steve mumbled the words back to himself, nodding. “I’ll look after him.”

Tony’s phone rang again, no doubt the caller being Pepper to badger if Tony got on the jet yet. The man sighed, already walking backwards to where the jet was waiting. “You better!” He called out before turning around and walking straight. Peter was talking to one of the pilots by the jets’s steps as Tony approached; Steve watched as they hugged and exchanged words before Tony boarded the jet and Peter ran off back to Steve’s side.

They waved Tony off before walking back inside. The time was already 7:30 so it wouldn’t be too long until Peter’s bedtime. “What you wanna do, Pete?” Steve shuffled awkwardly on his feet as they moved to the living room. Peter just shrugged in reply. “You want to watch TV before bed?”

“Sure,” Peter moved to grab the remote, instantly turning on a kid’s show. They watched in silence for a little while, something awkward between them as they waited until the inevitable time that Peter would be sent to bed. When the clock neared 8, Peter decided to voice something he’d been wondering about for a while. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you cope waking up around 70 years out of your timeline?” Peter frowned slightly, watching the blonde man intently. When he’d woken up 55 years later, he’d only been a little kid so he hadn’t understood very well. Being only 4 years old when he’d been kidnapped, Peter had only ever really had his mother in his life— he’d been too young to lose friendships, relationships or even be able to grasp the idea that technology had advanced significantly. With Tony’s help and support, Peter really didn’t feel like he’d suffered all that much (he purposely ignored thinking about how he’d lost his mum though, his heart hurting for Peggy).

Steve looked shocked at the question, stumbling over his words. “Well, uh, it was quite, uh, hard, i guess.” He took in a deep breath, trying to remain strong as he answered. Steve could see Peggy’s face in his mind as he carried on. “I lost a lot of people— and they lost me too. Waking up to find out i’d missed 66 years of their lives and realising that all my friends were either really old or dead was hard.”

Peter nodded, memories coming back of seeing his mum for the first time in what had been 55 years for her. He remembered feeling confused as he stared at her wrinkly, old face; it was only Peggy’s eyes that had made him sure the elderly woman he’d stood in front of was the same woman who used to kiss him goodnight and make him feel the safest in the world. Peter’s heart ached everyday for his mum, feeling as if the day he’d been kidnapped he had truly lost her.

Steve took in a shaky breath, eyes fixed on the screen in front of them even though he wasn’t watching. “There was this . . . woman that i loved,” he admitted. This was the first time he’d ever admitted about Peggy to someone outside of Fury and for some reason, it felt right to tell the 10 year old boy beside him. “She was everything: funny, brave, smart and she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. I really loved her. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her but then Schmidt happened and all those hopes died.”

“What happened to her?” Peter whispered.

“She’s old now,” Steve admitted, sighing. He turned his head to look at Peter, seeing Peggy in his eyes. Their eyes were the same shape and colour— even Peter’s face shape seemed to resemble the woman he was pouring his heart out about.

He shook his head, banishing the thoughts. Steve was sure he was just seeing what he wanted to see. He loved Peggy so he sees her in everything good. It wouldn’t do him good to look at Peter and trick himself into seeing Peggy.

“Have you gone to see her?” Peter frowned, intrigued.

“No; i wasn’t there for her when she needed me,” Steve bit his lip, thinking about their missing son. Peggy had been forced to go through the pregnancy, childbirth and raising their child alone all because of Steve’s decision. And then when the boy had been taken by people in the night, Steve hadn’t been there for Peggy to cry on or to help look for his son. In all honesty, Steve didn’t want to go see Peggy when such failure to help and protect the woman he loved hung over his head.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Peter remembered how his mother had told him that he hadn’t been to blame for being ‘asleep’ for 55 years. So it couldn’t be Steve’s fault either.

“Maybe,” Steve sighed, resigned.

“What was her name?” Peter asked out of curiosity. In truth he hoped that Steve would tell him so Peter could google her later, meaning he could see what she looked like and everything she’d done in her life after Steve had been frozen.

“Her name was P—“

“Oi Stark Jr, you want to play Mario Kart on the Wii with me?” Clint yelled as he entered the room, taking over the conversation with little care to the tense atmosphere floating between the two occupants. “I don’t want to brag but i’ve recently mastered Rainbow Road.”

“You’re so on!” Peter jumped off the sofa, his conversation with Steve forgotten as he goes to grab a remote from where they were stored in the cupboard. “I’m gonna take you down!”

Steve took another shaky breath, almost glad that the intense and personal conversation with Peter was done. He didn’t mind spilling his truths about Peggy but the wounds were still raw and Steve decided he would need more time for them to heal before he carried on talking about the love they’d once shared.

“Actually it’s Peter’s bedtime now,” Steve spoke with authority, staring Clint down as the man started setting up the game. “You can play tomorrow.”

“Come on, man!” Clint whined. “Stark’s gone, let the kid have some fun!”

“No, i’m in charge,” Steve crossed his arms. “And i say, Peter goes to bed.”

“Please Steve!” Peter pressed his hands together in a praying symbol. “One game!”

“You can play tomorrow,” Steve doesn’t concede. “Bed, go.” He’s happy when Peter does as he’s told, trudging off to his room with low grumbles. The super soldier lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when Peter disappears from view, all his circling thoughts about Peggy going with him. He really needed to work on how he projected Peggy onto Peter.

“You’re no fun, man,” Clint shakes his head as he walks off to. Steve watches as he goes, feeling proud that he’d stuck to Tony’s rules. A part of him desperately wanted to please the man.

As Steve went to bed that night, the restlessness kicking in as he laid his head down on the pillow, he couldn’t help but feel significantly less alone. There was something about Peter that made him feel more fulfilled and happy. Something that brewed below the surface, bringing out a calmer side in Steve.

All he knew was he interested to find out why.

Chapter Text

Spending time with Peter turned out to be Steve’s favourite things to do. In the few days he was looking after the kid, Steve had had the most fun he’d ever had in years. All the stress and traumatising thoughts about the War and losing everyone close to him would go away each time Peter cracked a joke or they played.

They also had a lot in common, spending hours talking about their favourite hobbies and things to do. The one major difference between them was Peter’s massive brain. Steve was a smart guy but Peter was something else; the kid could solve complicated algebraic equations without even spending 5 minutes on it and could talk for hours about Bruce’s science papers.

Peter was a really impressive kid and Steve had to hand it to Tony for raising him all alone the past few years. It was clear that Peter’s confidence came from being well loved. From everything Tony had hinted in the few weeks they’d lived together at the Tower, Steve was able to pick up on the fact that Howard hadn’t exactly been a caring father; Tony, on the other hand, was the most devoted father in the world.

Before Steve knew it, it was already their last day before Tony arrived home. He wouldn’t get back until the early hours of the morning the next day but Steve still felt sad about how it would be his last full day taking care of Peter. The past few days had been nothing but Mario Kart, walks around the city and lazing around but Steve found them to be the most fulfilling.

There was something about the kid that just made Steve happy. Like part of a jigsaw coming into place. He’d only known Peter for a short while but there was a connection between them, something that made Steve’s heart happy each time the kid would smile at him.

“You excited for your Dad to come home?” Steve asked Peter on their last night, sitting around the table at some restaurant in New York. Since Tony was going to be coming home soon, the rest of the team had decided to go out for a nice meal in celebration of their last night before the warden returned home (as Clint had put it). The restaurant chosen was just a shabby seafood joint not too far from the Tower; it was in a less busier spot in Manhattan, making it perfect for the Avengers to go mostly unnoticed.

“Yes!” Peter looked happy about the concept, smiling wildly as he nodded across to Steve. Clint sat next to Peter whilst Nat sat opposite them with Steve on her left. Bruce was sitting at the end of the table, sipping a glass of water quietly. He’d been reluctant to come, terrified something would happen and he would Hulk Out but Peter had managed to persuade him to come. “Dad’s been gone for so long!”

Clint chuckled, ruffling Peter’s hair, “You’re really Stark’s number one fan, aren’t you kiddo?”

“Duh,” Peter rolled his eyes, his hand trying to flatten down his now-untamed curls.

“I think it’s cute,” Natasha pursed her lips, giving Peter a smirk when he looked in her direction. They’d already ordered their food, everyone having decided to just buy a heap of seafood and have it sit in the middle of the table for people to pick and choose what they wanted. No one was shy about ordering mass amounts of food considering Peter had brought along the sleek credit card Tony forced him to carry at all times. (Clint, for one, couldn’t help but chuckle when thinking about Stark going through his bills to see his son had brought over £200 worth of seafood the night before he’d come home).

“Alright, here we go,” the waitress came forward balancing several large plates of food, gently placing them down in the middle of the table with practised ease. She smiled at everyone, not recognising any of them, as she asked if they wanted anything else. “Oh, just to let you: today there is a buy two, get one free deserts deal— kids get to have desert free, as well.” She winked at Peter, tilting her head towards Steve. “Maybe if you ask your Dad nicely, he’ll let you have one of our bottomless ice creams.”

She walked off before anyone could say anything, all the Avengers watching her go with perplexed faces. “Did she just assume Cap was Peter’s father?” Clint voiced what everyone was thinking, looking torn between laughing and staying confused.

“I think so,” Bruce sighed, already reaching out for the food. “I guess she assumed it had to be at least one person.”

“But why Cap?” Clint frowned as he reached for some food himself, piling seafood onto his plate with no shame.

“Hey,” Steve looked slightly hurt. “What’s so wrong with me?”

“You don’t look anything alike!” Clint shot back, stuffing his face with a prawn, chewing loudly.

“They have similar face shapes and chins,” Natasha spoke up, using her fork to grab some food. When everyone looked at her, she just shrugged. “What? It was just an observation.”

Steve shook his head with a sigh, putting some food on Peter’s plate before moving onto his own. The more he looked at Peter, he could see what Natasha meant. Face shape wise they had quite similar faces and his chin did look a lot like his own. Steve just brushed the thoughts away. The waitress had just made a mistake, it was nothing to dwell over.

“Try some of this Pete,” Clint put some shellfish on Peter’s plate, pointing at Peter to try it. “It’s oyster— you ever had that before?”

Peter shook his head, eyeing the food sceptically. “How am i meant to eat it if it’s in the shell?”

“Watch me,” Clint demonstrated with an oyster of his own, tilting his head back and swallowing the oyster with ease. “Ah, yum; go on, you try.”

“Clint don’t force him,” Bruce sighed, quietly munching on some shrimp as he watched Peter screw up his nose with discomfort as he stared at the oyster in front of him.

Clint ignored Bruce as he egged Peter on some more. “You’ll love it Peter, come on.” After a few more seconds of goading, Peter copied Clint in tilting his head back and swallowing the oyster in one. “What do you think?”

Peter blanched, making a grossed out face. “Yuck!” He ignored as everyone snickered around him, enjoying the kid’s expression. Clint shrugged, mumbling something about needing acquired taste for it.

Everyone was nearly finished, the once full plate now almost completely gone when Steve started to notice something was wrong with Peter. His skin was flushed, sweat growing on his forehead in quick pace and his breathing was wheezy. The kid looked ready to pass out any second and was clawing slightly at his chest as if it hurt.

“Peter?” The worry brought everyone’s attention back, their eyes immediately going to the young boy who was wheezing louder each second, his face getting redder and redder. “Peter, what’s wrong?” Steve jumped up from his seat, fear surrounding him as he dashed to Peter’s side, kneeing down and brushing hair out of Peter’s sweaty face.

Peter tried to say something but his tongue looked two times its usual size, making all his words hard to understand. Coupled with his wheezy breaths, tears started to pool in Peter’s eyes.

“Bruce?” Steve looked desperately at the Doctor, the other man jumping up as well to get a better look at Peter. By the way Bruce looked horrified, Steve knew the answer wasn’t going to be good.

“I think he’s had an allergic reaction,” Bruce spoke quickly but clearly, the worry clear in his voice. “The seafood must’ve trigged an anaphylactic reaction— he needs emergency medical attention. This is life threatening, you guys. We need to call an ambulance.”

“Oh shit,” Clint jumped straight to it, fumbling around for his phone so he could call 911 for the kid currently unable to breath beside him. Each second Peter was getting worse, his breathing slowly down as his tongue swelled.

Steve kept brushing hair out of Peter’s face, a strong desire to protect the kid bubbling up inside of him. Tony had made him promise to protect his kid and Steve wasn’t about to let the kid get hurt or worse on his watch.

“It’s 6pm on a Thursday in Manhattan,” Natasha leaned in closer to Steve so only he could hear her. “The ambulance will take too long, Steve. Peter needs attention now.”

Having lived in Brooklyn for his entire life par waking up 66 years in the future, Steve knew what New York was like. Busy streets meant that it was a nightmare to get anywhere on time or quickly. An ambulance could take double the time just to travel a few blocks down, especially now that there were far more people driving on the streets than there had been when Steve went into the ice. Natasha was right: by the time the ambulance got here and then back to the Hospital, Peter could be in an even worse condition.

“Bruce, is there anything you can do?” Steve barked, his heart racing as he held up the wheezing kid. Peter was starting to lose consciousness, his eyes slowly closing as his breathing got shorter and shorter.

“I don’t carry allergy medicine with me!” Bruce ran a hand through his hair, cheeks getting more and more flushed.

“The ambulance should be here in 15 minutes,” Clint spoke with fear as he got off the phone. “The nearest Hospital is six blocks away.”

“It’ll be too late,” the understanding hit Steve like a tonne of bricks. By the time the ambulance comes, if it even makes it in the time they said considering it was rush hour in Manhattan, and manages to drive back, Peter wouldn’t still be conscious. Judging by the kid’s sweaty face and panting breaths, they didn’t have very long to seek medical help.

Steve didn’t even think as he scooped Peter up in his arms, placing the kid’s head in the crook of his neck, letting Peter wrap his legs around his torso. He placed one hand under Peter’s bottom, holding him in place as the other kept a firm grip on the back of the boy’s head. Steve wasn’t going to just sit around and watch as Peter struggled through the anaphylaxis alone. Peter needed to get to Hospital so Steve was going to get him there.

He ignored the rest of the team’s yells as he started on his run, dodging between the tables and shooting out the door without a second thought. Distantly, Steve could hear the sirens of the ambulance from six blocks away, his super hearing picking up the faint noise. He made sure to cradle Peter’s head securely as he started his fast paced run towards where he knew the Hospital to be.

Peter was getting worse every block, his wheezing thinning out and his face completely flushed red and sweaty by the time Steve made it to the Hospital. The super soldier yelled out for help, panting mostly due to fear than being worn out. It turns out screaming for help was a sure way to attract attention for a swarm of doctors and nurses surged forward, lifting the small boy out of Steve’s arms and onto a rolling Hospital bed, shining lights in his eyes and down his throat.

“He’s having an allergic reaction to seafood,” Steve told them, his words going over their heads as they started talking in fancy words about Peter’s condition. He made to follow when they wheeled the child away but one of the nurses stopped him.

“You can’t follow,” she shook her head, looking slightly apologetic.

“Is he going to be okay?” Steve was trying his very best to not break down in hysterics as the nurse refused to answer, instead showing him to where the waiting room was. He sat down in one of the uncomfortable chairs in silence, putting his head in his hands as he tried his very best to not start freaking out. Completely breaking down now would do nothing for Peter; as much as Steve hated the fact, he knew it was all out of his hands now.

God, he wanted nothing more than for Peter to be okay.

———————

In Tony’s very professional opinion, the current meeting he was in was extremely boring. The emergency Pepper had told him about over the phone several days ago hadn’t been as bad as she’d made it out to be. In fact, he’d been able to correct the problem in a matter of mere hours. “You may as well stay for buisness now, Tony,” Pepper had told him when he’d tried to leave early, stating that even though she was CEO it was always good for the company owner to attend a meeting every now and then.

And that was how he ended up cooped up in a stuffy conference room, listening to the board members debate about fundings and improvements in the different sectors of SI. Each second it dragged on, Tony just wanted to roll his head back and fall asleep.

The only thing keeping him from ending it all was knowing that he would be leaving for New York again tonight. After several days in Malibu without his kid, Tony was having serious Peter withdrawals that needed to be sated soon. Steve had been in contact several times, giving him a quick update to let him know that Pete was safe and happy but Tony still couldn’t wait to see his son in person.

One of the board members was just starting to drone on about putting extra funding into the Internship Programme when Tony’s phone started to go off. It was on silent but Pepper could still obviously hear the buzzing coming from his pocket as she sent him a death glare to shut it off.

“Excuse me one-second,” Tony stood up, the phone in his hand as he prepared to accept the call. Judging by Pepper’s glare as he left the room, she would be giving him an earful when the call ended. “Hello?” He didn’t even check the caller ID as he walked outside the conference room, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Tony? Tony!” Bruce’s frantic voice floated through the line and all Tony could think was just how terrifying the sound was. It was like his heart fell to the floor, anxiety building up in him as he wondered what could’ve happened to warrant this tone in the usually calm Doctor’s voice.

“Bruce? What’s going on?” The terror built up until Tony honestly felt like his knees were about to buckle under him and his hands were never going to stop shaking. He could barely keep the phone pressed to his ear as his entire left arm vibrated in a frightening way.

“Tony, something’s happened—“ ahh the dreaded words, Tony thought as he tried to remain calm enough to hear Bruce out. Maybe Peter just ran into a glass door or broke his arm again; Tony tried to remind himself that ‘something’s happened’ doesn’t necessarily mean life threatening but the panic didn’t go away. “Peter . . . he—“

“What Bruce, just tell me!” He didn’t mean to yell but he needed the answers now. The panic was too unbearable now, he just needed to know the truth.

“Peter had an allergic reaction to shellfish,” the scientist spoke sadly with a tinge of fear still embedded in his tone. “He went into a pretty severe anaphylactic reaction; we’re on our way to the Hospital now.”

Tony was already walking towards the doors where the meeting he’d just left was still going on, pushing the double doors open, his eyes set on Pepper only. The pain and terror must’ve been written on his face for Pepper didn’t even so much as glare when he interrupted the meeting, barking orders that she get his jet ready to go immediately. Once he’d done that, he practically ran towards the elevators so he could drive himself to where the jet should be waiting.

“Is he okay? What’s going on, Bruce? How severe is the reaction? Have you reached the Hospital yet?” Tony kept the questions coming as he climbed inside his sports car (he was suddenly so happy that he’d brought one of his fastest cars to the office that day) and put the call on speaker so he could continue the conversation as he shot out of the parking lot.

“Peter’s already at the Hospital, Steve literally just picked him up and ran. Nat, Clint and i are in a cab right now, on our way to the Hospital. We don’t know anything yet because we aren’t there. I don’t know if i should say anymore, i don’t want to worry you—“

“Screw that,” Tony spat, overtaking several cars as he put his foot down on the accelerator so hard, his feet were practically flat. “I’m already worried, just tell me everything.”

“Peter went really red,” Bruce started to state all that had happened in the restaurant. “And started sweating a lot; he was struggling to breathe and by the time Steve left, Peter’s wheezing was getting serious. His tongue was swelling up and he looked ready to pass out.”

“And Steve took him to the Hospital? They’re already there?”

“Steve just picked him up and ran, yes. They left around 7 minutes ago and judging by fast Steve was running, coupled with the fact that he has the super soldier serum in him, i would say yes that they’re already at the Hospital.”

“Thank you for letting me know, Bruce,” Tony bit his lip, horrible images of Peter being unable to breathe and red in the face circling around in his head. As heart wrenching as the thoughts were, Tony was glad he was aware of the situation.

He made it to the jet before Bruce and the others managed to reach the Hospital, meaning Tony still had no clue how Peter was doing by the time he boarded the jet and told the pilot to step on it. “I’ll call you when i land, okay Bruce? I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” Bruce mumbled down the line. “He’s going to be okay, Tony. Steve got him to the Hospital in enough time.”

Even with Bruce’s professional opinion, the worry still ate at him. What if things weren’t going to be okay? What if he lost Peter? Tony couldn’t even fathom the thought, his chest constricting as he ended the call to Bruce so the jet could take off.

Tony just wanted his son to be safe— was that so much to ask?

Chapter Text

“I wish to be alone with the patient,” the voice of the Doctor said, his heavy Russian accent cutting into Peter’s brain. He wasn’t sure if this was real or not but Peter felt uncomfortable and scared as the man with the voice stepped closer.

Out of hooded eyes, Peter could make out a man with a square face and rugged skin dressed in Doctor clothes. His hair was a thin blonde, looking more white in the harsh hospital lights. The sound of the door opening and closing made Peter aware he was alone with this guy.

“Let’s do some tests, shall we?” The man hummed to himself, rattling around as he picked up what he needed. Peter’s head hurt as he watched with bleary eyes as the man picked up a large needle and a vial. There was something familiar about his voice, something about the way his accent grated on Peter’s skin until all the hairs were standing up.

Memories of jumbled words, thick accents and a tight grip on his arm flooded his brain but all answers left the second the Doctor jabbed a needle into Peter’s arm. The kid whimpered, resulting in the Doctor to shush him harshly, no sympathy in his voice as his arm grabbed on to Peter’s and the small vial became filled with Peter’s blood.

It was like scratching at the surface of an answer Peter knew, the words were on the tip of his tongue but the letters were all mixed and lost. Peter’s skin felt clammy and hot, his mind switching off for a second as he felt the needle get pulled out. The Doctor left as if he hadn’t even been there.

Peter fell back asleep, the memory mixing with other nightmares until he wasn’t sure if it had been real or not.

————————

The journey back to New York had to of been the worst of Tony’s life. The entire time he’d been pacing the length of the jet, despite the flight attendants asking multiple times for him to sit down when they landed, his terror and anxiety bubbling up into a restlessness that made his hands shake and his legs push on forward. Tony’s mind kept going around the ‘what ifs’ and the worst possible scenarios, merging into this one nightmare that always ended with a child’s dead body and Tony crying himself into a stupor.

He shook his head as his non-Happy driver (his favourite forehead of security was still in Malibu just like where Tony should’ve been) sped through the streets to the hospital. On Tony’s orders, he came to a screeching halt outside the front doors, the billionaire’s feet already touching the pavement before the car had even properly stopped.

All Tony could think was Peter, Peter, Peter; the boy’s face was all he could see each time he blinked and something that felt like a deep sense of loss was clawing at Tony’s chest each time he is mind came back to the what ifs. He hadn’t even stopped to call Bruce or any of the others since the plane landed, the fear of a sad voice speaking down the line, telling him it had been too late scaring him out of reaching out.

The nurse looked up in alarm as a disheveled Tony Stark, his eyes wide and hair a mess from running his hand through it a million times, slammed into the reception desk. To someone who didn’t have kids, Tony would just look like a madman who needed to calm down but to a parent, they would easily be able to recognise the universal look of terror when their child’s safety is threatened.

“My son!” Tony yelled at the poor nurse, her green eyes widening even more as she was taken aback at his abruptness. “My son was brought in here a few hours ago! Peter Stark!” He was sure half of what he was saying was unintelligible but the burning desire to see Peter was growing every second and it physically hurt being so close to his son and not being able to see him.

“Sir, i’m going to have to ask that you lower your voice,” the nurse, in her defence, stayed strong when Tony settled her with a glare.

“How dare you—“

“Tony!” Bruce cut over him, clapping a hand down on Tony’s shoulder. In his panic, Tony hadn’t even seen his friend approaching. As he turned to look at the scientist, noticing the darker than usual bags under his eyes and the tired expression, Tony searched his face for any possible signs of grief. There were no bloodshot eyes or dried tear tracks . . . so maybe everything was fine?

“Bruce!” Tony let out a sigh of relief, his heart thumping a million minutes per second as he followed the man to the elevator. “Peter . . . is he?”

“Peter’s fine; he got the all-clear a little while ago,” Bruce nodded as the elevator doors closed. Tony let out a curse, relief flowing over him as he leant back against the cool walls of the elevator. The cold metal helped to steady him, reminding him of where he was and that everything was going to be fine. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“He’s still asleep,” Bruce carried on as the elevator doors opened and they walked down the corridor. It was clearly designed for children only as there were paintings of cartoon characters on the wall and toys in the waiting rooms. Despite the friendly atmosphere of the paintings and colourful decorations, Tony couldn’t help but feel it was slightly claustrophobic. “He has been for a while, actually.”

“I want to know everything,” Tony kept his voice down as they passed parents sitting in the waiting rooms, their sick children in their arms. “Leave no detail out.”

“Peter’s going to be fine, Tony, you don’t need to torture yourself like this,” Bruce sighed.

“Bruce,” Tony held out an arm to make the scientist stop. He have him a look as he spoke. “I need to know.”

By the time they reached the waiting room outside Peter’s hospital room, where the boy was peacefully asleep with Steve by his side, Tony had been caught up on it all. As horrible as it sounded, he needed to know.

“He’s fine, Tony,” were the first words Natasha said, one hand squeezing Tony’s bicep in a reassuring way. Her eyes were boring into the billionaire’s own and he knew, without a doubt, that she was not lying. Natasha may be a triple agent but she always had that look in her eye when she spoke the complete truth, no lie in sight.

“He’s a strong kid,” Clint added with a small nod. Between the rest of the Avengers team, they all looked rather wrecked. Clint had a look of despair on his face, Bruce looked ready to kneel over and even Natasha seemed fatigued. It made Tony’s heart grow to know that they’d been waiting in the small room outside of where Peter slept ever since they’d arrived, unwilling to leave despite their obvious discomfort.

Tony swallowed down a lump in his throat, giving Natasha a small nod to which he hoped convey his gratefulness. She just nodded back, having gotten the message, before pointing him in the direction of the door where his son slept inside.

Peter looked like a doll when Tony walked inside; the stiff hospital blankets were pulled up to the kid’s chest and he was sleeping so peacefully, a blank look on his pale face. Tony had to keep reminding himself that Peter was fine, Natasha had promised that Peter was fine. Steve was sitting beside the bed, his elbows propped up on Peter’s blankets and his face in his hands.

“I hope i’m not interrupting,” Tony kept his voice low as he walked into the room, trying to keep the lump in his throat out of his voice. He walked forward until he was standing beside Peter, letting gentle fingers brush away some of the curls on his kid’s forehead. In that second, Tony was prepared to give away all his billions just to get one look at Peter’s brown Bambi eyes.

Steve cleared his throat, sitting back in his chair. Without being rude, Tony could see how exhausted the super soldier was. There seemed to be more lines on Steve’s face and his lips were pulled into a grimace. “Of course not,” Steve whispered back, watching as Tony stared down at his son like a blind man being able to see for the first time. “I’m glad you got here before Peter woke up.”

“Me too,” Tony nodded, moving to grab a seat and plop it down on the other side of Peter’s hospital bed. “Bruce told me what happened.”

Steve let out a small sigh, his lips pressing together in a thin line. “Tony, i’m so sorry; you asked me to look after your child and—“

“And you did,” he cut Steve off, sparing Peter a look to stare at the other Avenger. “You saved Peter’s life, Steve. Bruce told me that by the time the ambulance would’ve come, it would’ve been too late and that Peter’s reaction was too severe. You didn’t even think twice before running my son to the hospital.”

“But the allergic reaction—“

“Wasn’t your fault,” Tony shook his head. “I’ll be the first to admit that playing the blame game seems to be my favourite pastime but this really wasn’t your fault. If anything it was mine— i should’ve known Peter had an allergy.”

“You don’t know these things until they happen,” Steve added, giving Tony a soft look. “If this wasn’t my fault then it wasn’t yours either.”

Tony nodded gently, going silent for a few minutes. “I want to apologise, Steve. That day when i went to SHIELD and i barged into the Gym, i wasn’t thinking. I was so wrapped up in my hatred of you because of my father but you didn’t deserve it. And now you’ve saved my son twice and i need you to know that i appreciate that— i appreciate you having Peter’s back.”

“I think we both made assumptions about each other, Tony,” Steve sighed. “Both of which were unfair and have been disproven now. There aren’t any hard feelings.”

“You know,” Tony leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting between Peter and Steve. Despite everything, Tony couldn’t help the butterflies beginning to fly around in his stomach as he watched Steve, there was something so completely attractive in the way he so clearly cared about Peter. It was making his usually good looks seem even hotter. “My Dad used to be a complete asshole— to me, anyway. Always made me feel like i was living in the shadow of you. And i could never measure up.”

“You’re a good man, Tony, your father would be proud of who you’ve become.”

Tony didn’t exactly agree, he was sure his father would have some acute choice words to say if he were still alive but for Steve’s sake, he just nodded. “He’d be prouder of you.”

Steve let out a long suffering sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. “He’d be proud of Captain America, you mean. It seems the more i think about it, the less i feel like even i can handle the mantle of the great Cap.”

“That’s impossible,” Tony rolled his eyes. “You were made to be Cap— literally. Cap isn’t the super soldier, he’s the good man in you.”

“I feel like i was so set on trying to be a good man that i forgot to just be . . . a man,” Steve shook his head. “The guy who went into the ice had this whole idea of love and where his life would lead him. But now . . . i’ve lost all sense of everything— i’m lost.”

“You have us,” Tony wrapped one hand in Peter’s, squeezing his son’s hand as he tried to appease the butterflies. “Just like you have Peter’s back, we have yours.”

“I have your back too, Tony,” Steve tried to keep the blush from lighting up his cheeks as he stared into Tony’s brown eyes. “Always.”

Tony was about to reply when Peter let out a groan, his little eyelids fluttering as he started to wake up. “Peter? Open your eyes kiddo, let me see those Bambi eyes!” Tony brushed hair out of Peter’s face as he waited for the kid to wake up.

“Dad?” Peter’s voice was sore and weak but he was able to get over the croak as he blinked awake, eyes searching for Tony only. “You’re here,” Peter smiled, tears filling his eyes. “I missed you.”

Tony leant forward, pressing a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “I missed you more, buddy. I heard you gave everyone a scare.”

Peter let out a noise, closing his eyes for a second. “Don’t like shellfish,” he grumbled to which Steve chuckled lightly.

“Don’t worry Peter, we won’t be feeding you any shellfish ever again,” Steve smiled at the boy, relief filling him. Even though he’d been in the hospital only a door down when Peter was being treated, it didn’t feel like everything was going to fine until the kid opened his eyes.

“Steve?” Peter turned his head with a small frown. “You’re here too?”

“Steve brought you here, buddy,” Tony kept his voice low, hands still carding through Peter’s hair. “He saved your life.”

Peter sniffed, still clearly half asleep as he gave Steve a loopy smile. “Are you my fairy Stevemother? Thank you, Steve.”

Steve reached out a hand to grasp Peter’s arm, giving it a light squeeze. “It was no problem, Peter, i just want you to be okay.”

“That makes two of us,” Tony added, smiling as he watched Steve and Peter interact. The butterflies in his stomach grew as he watched how the blonde man smiled down at his son.

It was only half an hour later that Peter was given the all-clear to return home, the nurses drilling the importance of carrying around a new epipen into Tony and showing him how to use it in case this ever happens again (which Tony promised himself it would not). As Tony had been given the crash course on how to use the pen, Natasha had gone back to the Tower to grab some clothes for Peter so the kid could change.

“Call us if you need some help, okay buddy?” Tony called when Peter stumbled into the bathroom to change. He and Steve stood on the other side of the door, both ready to break the door down if anything sounded like Peter needed help.

“You’re a good father, Tony,” Steve’s comment came out of nowhere, keeping his voice low so the boy on the other side of the door wouldn’t hear. “You’re good for Peter.”

“Peter’s good for me,” Tony shuffled closer, something caught in his throat as the compliments were getting thrown at him. After times of doubt, it was nice for someone to put his rests aside and tell him he was doing a good job with his son.

“I don’t know if i ever apologised for what i said to you on the ship,” Steve wrung his hands, feeling a sort of blush creep up his face at how close Tony was standing to him now. “About you making the sacrifice play and only ever looking out for yourself.”

Tony shrugged, his eyes boring into Steve’s. “It’s alright, i guess being an asshole is part of my persona.”

“That’s the thing, it’s only a persona,” Steve sighed. “You aren’t an asshole, Tony; especially not when it comes to Peter.”

“Wow, you’re really full of compliments today, aren’t you?” Tony breathed, voice low. He was now standing only a width away from Steve, slightly looking up at him with a thoughtful expression. The blush on Steve’s cheeks grew, the man biting his lip as he swallowed hard.

“Everything i’m saying is true,” Steve leaned forward slightly, his body yelling to move in closer despite how close they already were. It was like the temperature in the room had increased by a thousand, the atmosphere around Steve feeling hot and full of tension. All he could see were Tony’s large, brown eyes and how pink his lips were. He couldn’t deny that Tony was attractive, his chiselled body bringing goosebumps to Steve’s skin as the space between them seemed to close even more.

It was like his entire body was on fire, a heat swelling around them both as the butterflies in each of their stomach’s flapped mercilessly.

Looking back on it, Steve wasn’t entirely sure who made the first move. He wasn’t sure who had been the one to close the final distance until their bodies were lightly brushing against the others and their lips locked in one smooth motion. All he knew was that it felt good to kiss Tony’s lips, it feeling like clockwork as their hands roamed the other’s face and back, pulling them in closer and closer and closer.

It felt like fireworks had been released in Steve’s brain, a warm feeling continuing to grow as their lips meshed and moved in a rhythmic beat. It felt heavenly. It felt natural. It felt—

Wrong.

Steve pushed away suddenly, chest heaving and his head feeling light. He could see the confusion in Tony’s eyes as the man frowned at him, chest moving up and down in a fast pace, too. His lips tingled, something in him screaming for more as Steve shook his head, taking another step back so there was a reasonable space between the two.

“Steve, what’s wrong?” Tony panted, glancing at the door to check Peter wasn’t standing there, dumbfounded. He had no qualms with his son knowing that Tony had a sex life (or used to, at least) but he would rather make sure a relationship is serious before it gets introduced to the kid so he isn’t let down.

“We can’t do this,” Steve shook his head again, wiping his lips with his sleeve as if he could erase the kid. “No, we can’t do this.”

“What?” Tony frowned even more, taking a step forward to which Steve took one back. “Steve?”

“This is wrong, Tony!” Steve felt a lump rising in his throat. He needed to get out of here. Now. “I’m sorry but i can’t do this.”

Tony just stared dumbfounded as the blonde man pushed through the doors into the waiting room, still completely confused about what had just occurred. Had he done something wrong? (He knew he was a good kisser so it wasn’t that).

“Dad?” Peter’s voice brought him back, finally noticing the oblivious boy was finally finished getting changed. “You okay?”

“Never better,” Tony forced a smile, stepping forward to wrap his kid into an embrace. Even with Steve’s random and confusing reaction, at least he still had his son.

Tony held onto that as they left the Hospital, never meeting Steve’s eyes.

Chapter Text

The next few weeks were awkward to say the least. Everyone had noticed the increased tension in the Tower, all of the Avengers dancing around the fact that neither Tony nor Steve would converse in a conversation or make eye contact anymore. No one commented on the first couple of weeks where Steve would leave the room if Tony entered.

It was like a dark cloud loomed over the Tower, constantly raining and causing troubles. Even Peter was too afraid to ask his Dad why Steve avoided the pair.

Tony, for one, didn’t know where he’d gone wrong. To the most of his knowledge, the kiss hadn’t been a one sided thing. Steve had kissed him back— with just as much enthusiasm as the billionaire had put in himself. So why was Steve now refusing to even look him in the eye? It had gotten so bad at one point that Tony had even believed the super solider had moved out, for he’d stopped attending breakfast and dinner with the rest of the Team and stuck close to either his room or the Gym.

But avoidance could only go so far and when August rolled around, Steve and Tony having not spoken a word between themselves for a week, their differences were forced to the side when it came time to celebrate Peter’s birthday. It was his first time celebrating in New York (and no doubt it wouldn’t be the last). As per Peter’s requests, it was just a small celebration with the Avengers and the Parker’s in attendance— Tony had even been able to track down the boy Peter had become friends with at the park: Ned Leeds.

Despite Peter wanting to have a small celebration, Tony had gone all out. In his defence, his kid would only turn 11 once and each year with Peter getting older, his heart would hurt thinking about how much he’d grown from the small 4 year old he’d adopted to the bright boy before him.

They’d gone to see Peggy the weekend before, flying out to England for two nights only so they could go catch up with Peter’s mother. Just like usual, her Alzheimer’s prevented her from knowing the significance of the boy sitting in her Hospital room and Peter cried after they left but Tony knew they would both regret it if they hadn’t seen her. Even if she didn’t realise who Peter was, it meant the kid could still talk to his mom.

When the 10th of August rolled rolled around, everything was perfect. The floors underneath the Avenger’s personal area was decked out with bunting, party celebrations and even an indoor bouncy castle. The bowling alley was set up and a small band was in full swing, playing classic pop music that everyone could appreciate.

“You really went full out this year,” Pepper raised her eyebrows as she took a swig of the champagne (Tony was watching Peter like a hawk, just knowing the kid would try and luck and take a glass if he thought he could).

“Don’t i always?” Tony smirked back at her, watching the celebrations take place with a smile. “Thanks for sparing a day off working to celebrate.”

“Of course,” Pepper rolled her eyes like it was obvious. “Peter only turns 11 once.”

“That’s what i said!” He smiled wider, watching as Peter jumped into the bouncy castle with Ned and his friend from Malibu: Gwen. Despite having a famous Dad, Peter found it difficult to make friends so Tony liked to see when his kid finally let loose and had fun with people his age.

“So hows things going with the Avengers?” Pepper continued on the conversation. They were standing off to the side, more observing the party than actually joining it. Happy and Rhodey were talking on the other side of the hall, the latter having just climbed out of the bouncy castle himself where he’d tackled Peter. The rest of the Avengers were scattered off, Natasha conversing with May, Bruce boring Ben with science talk and Clint looking suspiciously drunk despite it being a kid’s party.

The only one standing alone was Steve, slowly mulling around the food piles and looking rather solemn.

“It’s, uh, going,” Tony admitted, cringing a little. He thought back to how well things had been going before his trip back to Malibu, before Peter had his allergic reaction and before he and Steve kissed. That time seemed so far out of reach now.

“I heard things have been a little tense.”

“What? Who told you that?” His eyes made contact with Natasha’s for a second and Tony suddenly knew the answer. “I really wish you guys had stopped being friends after the whole triple agent thing.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, “Don’t be a baby. What happened?”

Tony thought about lying. He was about to open his mouth and sprout some bullshit when he realised who he was talking to. Pepper probably could spot one of his lies before he’d even made up his mind to actually lie. “Steve and i kissed,” Tony admitted, keeping his voice low.

“What?” Pepper hissed, eyes widening as she leaned in. “You kissed Steve?”

“No, we kissed— as in it was a mutual kissing.”

“Okay,” Pepper still looked shocked as she absorbed the information. “Okay, so you kissed? And now what? It made things weird?”

“He made it weird by refusing to talk to me!” Tony glanced at the man on the other side of the room who was purposely watching the band with gusto so his gaze couldn’t wander. “He literally ran away after we kissed and refuses to even look at me.”

“Tony was this one of those situations where you misread if it was mutual?” Pepper sighed, crossing her arms gently.

“No,” Tony had replayed the moment over and over again in his head ever since Steve had run from him. It had definitely been mutual. In fact, Tony was almost sure Steve had been the one to lean in more. “There’s no doubt.”

“You should talk to him,” Pepper conceded.

“I would if i could.”

“I wouldn’t normally recommend this,” Pepper sighed. “But you need to put him in a situation he can’t run from.”

“You mean trap him?”

“Not trap him! God, that sounds creepy Tony! No, i mean you need to find a place where you both can talk— in private— without him being able to just run away.”

Tony nodded even though he was unsure about how the hell he could do that. It had been weeks of him trying to find a place he and Steve could talk but it was made difficult when there were always 4 other people living under the same roof. He was about to voice that when the entire room suddenly shook, people screaming as the lights fluttered and the plates fell to the floor.

“Dad?” Peter came running to his father’s arms, his friends having run off to their parents as well. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted, wrapping an arm around Peter, eyeing the Iron Man suitcase by his side. He was ready to fight if need be. It was just as he was about to suit up, the rest of the Avengers ready to jump into battle as well, when a loud and booming voice made Tony almost swear in relief.

“Ha Ha! I have arrived!” Thor busted down the door, a large grin on his face as he walked into the party in all his glory. The shaking must’ve come from him using the Bifrost to travel onto the Tower’s roof. “Not too late for the festivities i hope!”

“Thor!” Peter let go of his father to run to the God, throwing his arms around the man with a loud shriek.

“Ah! If it isn’t little Starkson! I hear it is your birthday!”

“You came here for my birthday?” Peter stared up at the God with wide eyes, the smile on his face growing.

“Of course! The second Hiemdell told me of the celebration, i knew i had to come!”

“It’s good to see you again, Thor,” Tony nodded at the man, signalling for the band to continue playing. Now the heart attack had subsided for everyone, he saw no reason why not to continue the party.

“I have missed you puny Midguardians!” Thor chuckled, his voice louder than the music playing. “I have been gone too long, friends!”

“Hey Big Guy,” Clint stumbled forward, sending out a weak punch to Thor’s arm as he slurred his words. “Long time no see!”

“I see not much has changed!” Thor boomed, giving Clint a small shove to which the man almost fell over. “You’re all as delightful as ever!”

“Hey Thor come meet my friends!” Peter grabbed the God’s hand, pulling him towards where Ned was staring with wide eyes, looking ready to faint.

“If you’d have told me 7 years ago when i first found out about Peter that on his 11th birthday the God of Thunder would gatecrash his party, i would’ve told you that you were crazy,” Rhodey suddenly appeared behind Tony with a smirk. “How crazy has life gotten, eh Tones?”

“I think it became crazy the second i adopted a 4 year old,” Tony shrugged. “Out of Norse Gods and Aliens, me actually adopting a child still seems like the craziest thing.”

“He’s a good kid,” Rhodey let his smirk grow into a fond smile as he watched Peter drag Thor into the bouncy castle. “I’m glad you kept him around.”

“Me too,” Tony smiled back. He was about to say more when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Steve slip out of the room towards the bathroom. Everyone else was too enraptured by Thor’s presence to notice when Tony decided to take off after the super soldier. All he wanted to know was what the hell was going on.

—————

Steve splashed some more cold water over his face as he sighed into the mirror. He looked like shit, with dark bags and a pale complexion; it seemed his weeks of bad sleep and internal torment were catching up to him. His fingers brushed over his lips, the feel of Tony’s on them like a faint memory.

He splashed more water over his face, willing his mind to shut up. Ever since he’d met Tony, he’d admitted that the man was attractive. He had an air of importance that followed him. But Steve had met a lot of attractive men in his life and he’d never let such feelings get the best of him before. So why did he succumb to them with Tony?

All Steve’s life, he’d liked the way both men and women looked. He’d loved Peggy but that didn’t mean he hadn’t sometimes had dreams about Bucky.

But that wasn’t right. Growing up, Steve had realised that loving women was the only acceptable thing. It was unheard of to want to kiss his male best friend— even if he was the most handsome and kind person Steve had known. Would he even have become Captain America if he’d fallen into the sin of being with the same-sex?

But Tony just made Steve feel light. In a way Bucky had never had, Steve felt his stomach twist and constrict with butterflies each time the billionaire looked his way. He avoided Tony’s eyes for weeks, not wanting to feel the constant pain of wings flapping around in his stomach, urging him to step in and feel Tony’s lips on his just once more.

He couldn’t sleep at night without dreaming for more, his mind creating things up that Steve knew if he told anyone about they’d be disgusted with him. Would he be arrested if people found out that his lips had once touched Tony’s?

Steve closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. He knew it was wrong, he knew that being with Tony was bad and that by giving in and kissing the man, he’d committed a sin. But . . . God, he wanted to do it again. He didn’t even want to just kiss the man’s lips or feel his body pressed up against his. He wanted to hold Tony’s hand, feeling the callouses on his palms, he wanted to kiss the man’s cheek and whisper things like “babe” and “sweetheart” into his ear. He wanted to sit down on a Saturday night with Tony on his left and Peter on his right and grow old right there, surrounded by the people he cared about.

Stop it, Steve told himself. He couldn’t have those things. It wasn’t allowed. He couldn’t let himself fall into the trap of dreaming. He’d almost fallen into that trap with Bucky and it had been only Peggy who could pull him out. There was no one around to save him if he fell into the trap with Tony.

“Steve?” The door to the bathroom opened and Tony walked in, looking nervous and anxious. He looked almost as nervous as Steve felt, their eyes meeting for the first time in weeks and the super soldier’s stomach deciding to do a 360 degree flip. “Can we talk?”

“About what?” His throat was constricting, the desire to walk the few steps towards Tony and kiss him once again making him want to be sick.

“Don’t play dumb,” Tony sighed, walking forward so he was leaning on the sink beside Steve. “About the kiss. Look, if i got the wrong impression and i forced myself on you i am really sorry. I promise i’m not that asshole, i guess i got confused . . .”

“We can’t do this, Tony.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that before. Can’t do what, Steve?”

“This!”

“What even is this Steve? We kissed once and now you’re refusing to talk to me or be in the same room as me as if i got cooties!”

“We can’t let ourselves fall victim into this . . . trap,” Steve sighed. “It won’t work and we’ll both suffer because of it.”

“Why won’t it work?” Tony leaned in more, eyebrows furrowed. “Because we’re on the Avengers?”

“Because we’re both men!” Steve yelled, his frustration leaking out. He just wanted to kiss Tony right then and there but he knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it ever again. “It isn’t right.”

“It isn’t right to kiss other men? What kind of bullshit is that?” Tony’s face scrunched up. “Are you serious right now? You ran out on me because of some homophobic bullshit?”

“All my life i’ve been quelling my feelings,” Steve took in a deep breath. “Something was wrong with me when i was born, i know it.”

“This isn’t the 40s, Steve,” Tony hissed, not knowing if he should be angry or disgusted. “All the bullshit and lies they fed you about homosexual relationships was just that: bullshit and lies. There isn’t anything wrong with same sex couples. People celebrate being who you are now, not shaming it.”

“It’s wrong—“

“It didn’t feel that wrong to me,” Tony cut in. “And you didn’t think so too. Love is love, you shouldn’t have to hide who you are for society to accept you. I’m bisexual and i don’t give a fuck what people think.”

“What?”

“It means i like both guys and girls,” Tony cleared up. “My preference has normally been women more but i do like you. Not to put myself out there but it’s true.”

“They killed people who kissed other men,” Steve whispered, voice low in case anyone could hear. “I saw it in the papers when i was a kid. Men lynched and brutally killed because they followed their hearts. My mother always said that i should follow my head so i didn’t end up the same.”

“This isn’t the 1900s anymore,” Tony sighed. “Sure, being gay isn’t celebrated everywhere and lots of people still have their heads stuck up their asses but there seriously isn’t anything wrong with it. And i don’t think just anyone could kill you even if they tried.”

“I just can’t,” Steve shook his head, shame filling him.

“Accepting who you are is hard,” Tony spoke softly. “But everyone deserves to be themselves— even perfect Mr Captain America. Being America’s Golden Boy doesn’t mean you can’t be who you are and if people don’t like it, fuck them. Not literally, of course.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Steve scoffed, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The pain was evident in his eyes. His fingers twitching to just reach out and smash the glass (or grab Tony’s face and pull him in for another kiss).

“It isn’t though. I get that. You’ve come from another time; a different society where people made you hide being who you are. The penalty was death, i get it why you’re hesitant. But that penalty no longer applies, for the long run that is.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that it’s wrong.”

“You will eventually,” Tony shrugged, clearing his throat as he leant against the sink with suave. “When you get your head out of the 40s and realise that having feelings for the same-sex is perfectly okay.”

“We really won’t get in trouble?” Steve still sounded unsure, his mind whirring a thousand miles per hour as he wondered if Tony was telling the truth. The feelings he’d felt for his entire life were actually okay? There wasn’t anything wrong with him? “Wanting to be with other men isn’t frowned upon?”

“No,” Tony smiled slightly, leaning in. “It’s more celebrated to be yourself. I like you Steve, despite our rocky start. I don’t want to push you if you aren’t ready.”

Steve shook his head, drawing in a deep breath. “I just want to try something,” he whispered, leaning in as he crossed the distance to Tony’s lips. For the first time in his life, Steve realised that this was something he could actually enjoy. There wasn’t anything wrong with it. It felt right as their lips moved and meshed with the other’s. It would take some getting used to but Steve felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

He was actually allowed to be happy for once.

Shrieks and cheers echoed into the bathroom, Steve and Tony’s lips pausing as they took in the sound. The booming words of Thor yelling “ah yes, i knew it!” danced into their ears, making them break apart with anxious expressions.

“What’s going on?” Steve glanced at the closed door where it sounded like the party was getting more and more exciting.

“I’m going to kill him!” Tony muttered, storming towards the door as he once again rejoined the party. The scene before him made all his words get caught in his throat. Standing in the middle of the room, everyone else standing to the side with wide, shocked eyes, was Peter with the biggest smile on his face. Thor was clapping loudly, yelling encouragement as he cheered the 11 year old on.

“I knew you had it in you, Starkson! You’re worthy!”

Tony and Steve paused at the scene, both of their chins dropping to the floor as Peter turned to his Dad. “Dad, i did it! I’m gonna rule Asgard!”

In his left hand, held up into the air like it weighed nothing at all, was Mjölnir.

Chapter Text

It took Tony one whole hour to put the message across to Peter that yes, he was worthy enough to wield Mjölnir and yes, Tony was very proud but no, Peter was not allowed to move to Asgard to become their new King. For some reason the 11 year old actually thought his father was going to let him move planet and rule the Asgardian race.

“Did he finally accept that he won’t be moving to Asgard in the fall?” Steve smirked, taking a sip of juice when Tony walked into the kitchen later that night. The rest of Peter’s party had gone off perfectly despite the whole ‘I’m going to rule Asgard’ buisness and by 9 o’clock, all of the guests had packed up and left wishing Peter a happy birthday before they went. Tony himself had just come back from putting Peter to bed, once again having to remind the kid that lifting Mjölnir didn’t mean he would be moving planet— not on Tony’s watch, at least.

“I think he’s still holding out hope,” Tony let out a chuckle despite the ridiculousness of it all. Overall, he was extremely proud of Peter. The kid had lifted something only the most worthy and kind hearted people could; secretly, Tony always knew he could. There was just something about Peter’s personality that screamed he was a nice person through and through.

How Tony hadn’t managed to taint him with selfishness and bad habits over the years was still beyond him.

“You know, being the father to the King of an alien planet isn’t the worst thing,” Steve teased, the butterflies still flapping around in his chest as he stared at Tony. Everyone else had gone to bed or retired to their rooms at this point, meaning it was just him and Tony walking around the living floor.

“Don’t start,” Tony shot back. “My kid being a boy King isn’t something i even want to imagine. God help Asgard if Peter took over, he’d probably change their planet’s anthem to the Imperial March.”

“The Imperial what?” Steve frowned, not catching the reference.

Tony whistled, pouring himself a glass of juice as well. “Don’t let Peter hear you say such blasphemy, that kid lives and breathes Star Wars.”

“Are those the films with the Princess and Vader dude? And the pew-pew guns?”

“The pew-pew guns?”

“You know, the guns that go ‘pew-pew’,” Steve used finger guns to put his point across, his voice going high pitched as he made the sound, making Tony laugh. They both settled into a somewhat comfortable silence as they watched each other, something warm in the air. The entire Tower was silent, for once there was no soft music playing from Bruce’s room or yells from the living room as Clint tried (and failed) to beat Natasha at Mario Kart and even Thor was surprisingly quiet, his booming voice having finally been put to rest.

“When i was younger,” Steve cleared his throat, a blush rising up his cheeks as he forced the words out. He never liked to speak about what he was going to say, having learnt back when the years still started with ’19’ that sometimes things were better left unsaid, but he knew he had to be honest with Tony. “I thought there was something wrong with me. I used to have this friend called Bucky; we were practically inseparable growing up— he lived in the same apartment block as me and just being his friend felt right, you know?”

Tony nodded, his thoughts going to Rhodey and how after years of bouncing around private schools, it wasn’t until MIT that he finally made the best friend he ever could. It had taken him 15 years to find someone that had his back like no one else; Tony was glad that it had only taken Peter 10 years (discounting the 55 he’d been frozen throughout) to find Ned.

“Anyway,” Steve carried on. “As we were growing up, i started to . . . like Bucky. In more than just a friendly platonic way. He was the most handsome guy i’d ever seen and i started dreaming about him and things i knew i shouldn’t have been dreaming out. I never told him, of course, it would’ve ruined our friendship and destroyed my life if it ever came out.”

“Do you only just like men?” Tony’s voice was low, staring at Steve with no judgement in his eyes.

Steve paused for a second, pursing his lips. “There was one woman. Only the one.”

He thought about Peggy, seeing the way she smiled and called out his bullshit. Steve had never really paid any women much attention as he’d grown up, being the small, sick guy for his entire life, he’d never been very popular with the ladies. And his eyes had been on Bucky mostly.

But then Peggy had walked into his life, all sharp wit and an English accent and for the first time in his life, Steve had wondered if maybe he hadn’t been born broken. She’d completely made him fall for her before he’d even received the super soldier serum.

Steve mused for a second, thinking back to their one night together and how right it had felt. He’d truly loved Peggy in a way in a way opposite to how he’d pined for Bucky. It felt the same as the way he did now for Tony.

“I’ve only had relationships— if you can call a couple of dates a proper relationship— with woman myself. Back when i was still big in the party scene i slept with a few men but nothing ever became serious.”

“Does Peter know you date?”

Tony shrugged, “Well, yeah, he’s old enough to know i go out and have drinks with people. He’s never met anyone i’ve supposedly dated though.”

“You never thought about giving him a more stable environment?”

Tony frowned. “What do you mean?”

Steve cringed at his comment, realising what he’d said. “Sorry, the ‘40s is coming out of me. I only meant have you never wanted to give Peter a mother figure or have someone else to help raise him?”

“Peter has a mother,” Tony doesn’t elaborate. “And he has Pepper; she’s gotten more busy over the years with me giving her the job of CEO but she’s always there for him— no matter what.”

Steve nods, “You didn’t answer if you ever wanted help to raise Peter?”

“Help would be appreciated,” Tony admitted, sighing gently. “But i’ve always had Rhodey, Pepper and even Happy by my side. And something tells me that circle of help has grown even more by 5 people.”

“I’ll always help to look after Peter,” Steve smiled softly. “He really is a great kid.”

“Isn’t he just,” Tony looked to the side, his features softening as he thought of his son.

“I like that look on your face,” Steve spoke suddenly.

“What look?”

“You always go all warm and your face just relaxes when someone mentions Peter; i like it.”

“You saying you like it when i'm calm and relaxed?” Tony smirked, his voice going back to its usual teasing ways.

Steve rolled his eyes playfully, a smile on his face. “In regards to Peter, yes.” He’d always been a more domestic man, despite wanting to fight in the war and do his part, Steve had also desired the stability of a family life. His own mother and father had died when he’d been young and it hadn’t been until Peggy that he finally thought he would be able to achieve the settled down, married man look (Lord knows no one would’ve accepted it if Peggy had been replaced by Bucky).

For a second, Steve’s thoughts went back to his child. He wondered if he were still alive, older than him and living in secret, or just simply where his body was buried. As much as it hurt, Steve wished the kidnappers had buried the body rather than dump it somewhere.

If Steve’s son had been blessed with the miracle to live despite the kidnapping, he wished the boy was just as great as Peter.

“I think i know something else which can me look calm and relaxed,” Tony’s flirting cut through Steve’s thoughts. “Something which you can help me with.”

Steve shook his head with a smile, pleased his brain was moving away from the sad thoughts that sometimes kept him up at night. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tony moved forward, until he was standing before Steve. His playboy days of charming people were coming back to him as he made the first move, meeting Steve’s head in the middle as they once again kissed. This time it wasn’t as passionate or fiery as it had been the last two previous, instead it was calmer, slower, more rhythmic and calm. It felt right for their lips to move in a slow trance, enjoying the time they were spending together.

Neither one of them knew how long they stood there, giggling in the dark kitchen like children, talking in quiet whispers and kissing when they had the chance. The clock on the wall was reading closer to 2am when their lips were suddenly parted, a jolt of fear rushing up both Steve and Tony’s spines as the lights were unforgivingly switched on.

Peter stood in the doorway of the kitchen, hair all messed up and bags under his eyes, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. His mouth was hanging open and his eyes were like saucers. “What the frick?” He yelled out, eyes darting between the pair as Steve took a step away from Tony with a guilty expression.

“Hey!” Tony switched back into Dad mode, giving his kid a ‘you’re in trouble’ look. “Watch the language!”

“I didn’t even say anything rude,” Peter shot back, rolling his tired eyes with slight annoyance.

“I don’t care,” Tony scowled.

“What were you doing?” Suspicion creeped up in Peter’s voice, proving he hadn’t actually seen his Dad kissing Steve or was so tired he was sure he’d imagined it.

“What are you doing?” Tony shot back, avoiding Peter’s question. “It’s almost 2am, you should be in bed.”

“I had a bad dream,” Peter pouted, still frowning at his Dad and Steve’s weird behaviour. “I came to find you, JARVIS said you were in the kitchen. Why are you in the kitchen with Steve at 2am, Dad?”

Judging by Peter’s oblivious expression and the way his eyes were slowly drooping even as he stood there, Tony could tell that his kid really hadn’t caught them in the act. Peter was too innocent and naive to put two and two together, even despite his high IQ.

“We were just talking buddy,” Tony cringed as he took a step closer to his kid, running a hand through his hair as Peter yawned. “Let’s take you back to bed, okay?”

“No,” Peter pushed back, shaking his head. “Don’t want to sleep!”

“Buddy it’s almost 2am, you’ll be cranky tomorrow,” Tony tried to reason but Peter wasn’t having it, instead taking a step back, crossing his arms (in a very Tony Stark-esque way) and repeating his previous statement. After around 7 years of raising the kid by now, Tony knew better than to push bedtime when Peter had woken from a nightmare.

“Alright kiddo,” he sighed, running a hand through Peter’s curls as he turned back to Steve. “How does a film sound, Mr America? I’ll even let you pick.”

Steve still had rosy red cheeks, his face pulled up into one of guilt as he stood awkwardly away from father and son. His head bobbled up and down as he nodded. “Yeah, um, okay.”

They settled down on the sofa, Peter curled up into Tony’s side as he sat in the middle, his feet partially on Steve’s lap. The blonde man couldn’t help but feel a tad of warmth in his chest as JARVIS started playing Star Wars on the massive screen, the sounds of the ‘pew-pew’ guns ringing through their ears a few seconds later. Darth Vader hadn’t even had his first conversation with Princess Leia before Peter was already fast asleep again, snoring lightly into Tony’s chest, his legs now completely laying over Steve. Despite it being late, Steve refused to give into the tiredness, wanting to stay up as late as possible to continue experiencing this.

“I don’t think he caught us,” Tony whispered over the noise of the space battles and Peter’s snoring.

“I don’t think so either,” Steve turned his head to see Tony’s small smile, the bright screen of the TV illuminating his features.

“Good,” Tony smirked in a less teasing way, his hand still carding through Peter’s curls as the kid slept between them. “I kinda want to keep you to myself for now. No sharing.”

“No sharing,” Steve repeated, his fingers feeling warm as they conjoined with Tony’s over the top of Peter’s sleeping figure. He couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face as he settled in, watching the old graphics play on the screen.

Star Wars seemed to hold something special in his heart now.

——————

It was cold in the base; the winter air creeping through the vents, a chill dancing around and attacking the occupants with stony faces. A man in a white lab coat shivered as he walked down the corridor, a look of determination written across his usually tight face. His features were pinched and his feet were unrelenting as he stormed through the base, a thin folder in his hands. His feet echoed across the metal, each step as loud as the other as he charged to his destination.

The man in the white lab coat paused outside a metal door, the ice having started to grow on the sides. He took a second to breathe, the file in one of his hands held tightly like a lifeline. The other hand pulled up into a fist as he rapped it against the door, the sound of metallic clanging thundering around him.

With a loud creak and a booming “ENTER” in a different language, the man in the white lab coat stepped into the room. It was dark, the only light coming from the small window to the side of the room where a snowstorm was currently brewing.

He placed the file down, staring at the man before him who sat alone at a dark table, a dark look on his round face. There was no hair on his head and his eyes were far too small for his face. He seemed to be eyeing the man in the white lab coat intently.

The man in the white lab coat opened his mouth, a cloud of white coming out as he breathed.

“Полное совпадение."

Chapter Text

“Why you so grumpy?” Ned asked in an innocent voice when Peter sighed for the 30th time in the last 10 minutes. They were currently playing a brand new game on the new PlayStation Peter had gotten for his birthday; both of the boys were currently staring at the giant flatscreen TV in the 11 year old’s bedroom, their fingers whizzing over the controls at lightning speed.

“I’m just bummed,” Peter sighed once more, stating the obvious. Ned, in retaliation, rolled his eyes, his fingers never pausing over his controller as they shot down aliens on the game. His mother never allowed for such ‘violent’ games at home (it was rated age 12 and there wasn’t much gore) so he enjoyed being able to come over and play with Peter.

It had been a few weeks since Peter’s birthday party, the end of summer just on the horizon and his school bag was already packed with new essentials and his wardrobe was filled with brand new school clothes to replace the old ones he’d grown out of. As a way of letting the two boys enjoy the limited time of summer that was left, Tony had invited Ned over for a sleepover.

Naturally, Ned had jumped at the chance to spend the night under the same roof as the Avengers (and to see Peter, of course).

“Well, duh,” Ned shot down three more aliens, his high score already triple the size of Peter’s. Despite only ever playing when he visited the Tower, Ned was just very good at PS games. “Why you bummed?”

“I don’t wanna leave,” Peter pouted, the split screen on his side of the TV going red as his character got wounded.

“Oh yeah,” Ned sighed as well, his fingers faltering for a second as he remembered the fact that Peter was going to be leaving soon. In the excitement of spending the night in the Avenger’s Tower, he’d forgotten that this sleepover was also a way of saying goodbye before school rolled around and Peter went back to Malibu. “Why are you leaving again?”

“My new school is back in Malibu,” Peter groaned when his character was shot for the second time and his screen went black, indicating he’d died. He waited the several seconds for it to reboot, watching as Ned killed five more aliens as he waited. “Dad says staying in New York was only meant to be a temporary summer thing.”

“But shouldn’t he be here?” Ned frowned. “With the rest of the Avengers? You know, in case there is another attack?”

“That’s what i said,” Peter matched his frown. “But Dad says my education matters more so we have to go. I don’t even want to go to that stupid school,” he sighs for the millionth time.

“It’s a thousand dollar private Middle school,” Ned spares him a glance. “Surely it’s fancy enough for you to wanna go?”

“Everyone there is going to be so stuck up because they’ll all be children of the rich and elite. There’s a guy called Harry who i’m friends with, he’s going to my new school, but his Dad and my Dad don’t really get on— something about Harry’s Dad being a competitor of Stark Industries or something, i don’t know. So even though we’re friends, we won’t ever be able to hang out much because his Dad refuses it. And anyway, even if the kids aren’t stuck up, school will suck anyway because of the teachers.”

“Why?”

“Well, because of who my Dad is, all the teachers are either total suck ups or expect me to be a super genius.”

“But you are a genius?”

“I don’t like the pressure though!” Peter threw his controller down on the bed when he was killed again for the second time. “I just wanna stay here in New York with my Dad and the team and i wanna hang out with you.”

“I wanna hang out with you too,” Ned admitted. He paused for a second, his cheeks going red as he awkwardly fumbled with the controller in his hand. “I don’t really make friends very well so it’s been fun hanging out with you this summer.”

“Do you think my Dad would home school me?” Peter perked up, feeling like a lightbulb was lit above his head.

“He’s kinda busy, Peter,” Ned chuckled. “I doubt it.”

“What about Aunt Nat?” Peter thought to himself. “She’s smart.”

“I doubt THE Black Widow will give up her status as super cool spy to become a home school teacher for a 11 year old.”

“Steve could teach me history,” Peter pondered as if he’d never heard what Ned had just said.

“He was literally frozen for 70 years,” Ned rolled his eyes. “He’s a little limited on recent history.”

“Clint’s out,” Peter shrugged, thinking back to the assassin who was normally only ever good for a laugh and practical jokes. “But Bruce is a whiz at science, he could teach me biology.”

“No offence Peter but you’re literally the most easily distracted person i’ve met,” Ned broke his dreams. “I doubt Dr Banner will be able to stand 5 minutes with you without turning into the Hulk out of sheer annoyance that you never seem to be paying attention.”

“Dude!” Peter looked offended. “You’re meant to be supporting me here!”

“Sorry Peter,” Ned shrugged, not looking very apologetic. “But nothing you’re saying is very realistic.”

Peter flopped on the bed, letting out a loud groan. “This is so annoying! I’ve finally found a real friend and my Dad is dragging me across the country all because of some fancy, stupid school!”

“You could always ask to come to my school,” Ned spoke up, trying to actually be helpful. The video game had been long forgotten by now, both of their characters having been killed by aliens. “It isn’t a thousand dollar private school, it’s just a normal public school in Queens but they have a fast track exam at the end of the last year that can secure scholarships to a really good High School in Midtown.”

“I don’t really need a scholarship.”

“Even so, the High School is really good, most people only go to the Middle school so they can take the test for a chance to go to Midtown; i’m gonna take the test at the end of the year and i really hope i get in. It’s a specialist science and technology school. I’m really into programming and Midtown High School would be perfect. You’d like it too if you love science.”

“Physics is my favourite subject,” Peter thought it over. “Maybe my Dad will let me go to Midtown when i start High School?”

“That still means you go to Malibu this September,” Ned sighed, looking bummed. “You’ll be gone for 3 years until we’re old enough to go to High School. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Peter pouted, looking down at his blankets for a second. “I promise i won’t rest until my Dad lets me have a phone so i can call you all the time.”

“And i’ll beg my mum for a phone too!” Ned brightened up. “Then we can chat every day!”

“Every day,” Peter nodded, smiling widely. He was about to say something else when there was a knock at the door and Tony stuck his head in, looking at the two boy’s fondly.

“I think it’s bedtime, you guys,” Tony kept his voice soft and low.

“But Dad we’re having a sleepover!” Peter whined, embarrassed by his Dad’s actions in front of Ned. Why was Tony literally so embarrassing all the time?

“Yeah kiddo,” Tony rolled his eyes. “Emphasis on the sleep— lights out, come on.”

“You’re so annoying,” Peter sighed as he did what he was told, crawling under his covers as Ned slid in next to him on the massive double bed.

“I’m not annoying,” Tony spoke back brightly. “I’m Dad.”

“That was so bad!” Peter yelled as Tony turned off the light to his bedroom. Ned just chuckled in the darkness, still amazed that Iron Man was being such a dork in front of him.

“Night kiddos,” Tony called as he closed the door, ignoring his son’s protests. He’d allowed for the boys to stay up til half 12 but something told him that if he didn’t force a bedtime on the two 11 year olds then it would only come back to bite him in the ass when he served two grumpy kids breakfast in the morning.

“Your Dad is so cool,” Ned whispered, staring up at the high ceiling, still reeling at the fact that Iron Man— the man he’d seen on the TV and had told his mum was the coolest superhero ever (apart from Thor and Captain America)— had just told him goodnight.

Peter didn’t disagree, opting to just grumble something under his breath and turn over, whispering goodnight to his friend. It was no later than 10 minutes after lights out, Peter’s snores getting louder each second, that Ned started to feel his mouth get dry. He always slept with a glass of water by his bed and struggled to actually drift off into sleep without it.

“Peter,” Ned whispered to his friend’s snoring body. “Where can i get a drink?”

“I believe the kitchen is the best and most convenient place for a glass of water, young sir,” the sound of JARVIS made Ned jump and for a second he thought he would have a heart attack. In the few times that Ned had come over, he’d gotten acquainted to Peter’s AI butler that lived in the ceiling but that didn’t mean the poor boy didn’t jump out of his skin each time he heard JARVIS’ voice.

“Oh, uh, okay,” Ned nodded. “Will anyone be mad that i went to get a drink?” He didn’t want the Avengers to hate him— they were the AVENGERS!

“Of course not; in fact, Sir would rather you get yourself a drink if need be,” JARVIS spoke politely as Ned climbed out of bed and began walking down the corridor to the kitchen. He’d been over enough times to know the basic layout of Peter’s house.

The entire floor of the Tower where Peter’s room was located, only a corridor down from the living room and kitchen, was swamped in darkness. As Ned tiptoed towards his destination, he could hear weird noises coming from the living room sofas. It was a sloppy kind of noise that seemed to echo off the walls as he tried to get to the kitchen. He knew he would be able to see the source of the noise when he turned on the kitchen lights as the room was adjacent to the living room.

“OH MY GOD,” Ned couldn’t help but yell when the lights in the kitchen came on and he was able to make out the faint glow of light showing Iron Man sitting next to Captain America. This in itself wasn’t crazy except for the fact that their lips had been interlocked only a second ago and they were both looking at Ned with startled expressions. Both of their cheeks were bright red and Ned suddenly realised he wasn’t meant to have seen what he had seen.

Panic rushed up into his gut as he mumbled out an apology before tearing it down the corridor to Peter’s bedroom. His heart was racing a million times per second, his chest heaving up and down as he jumped into the bed and slammed his eyes shut. The image of Peter’s Dad kissing Captain America was glued into his brain and Ned honestly thought he was going to puke when he could hear footsteps come down the corridor and pause outside of Peter’s room.

Peter’s door was opened a fraction, Tony’s voice quiet as he spoke through the darkness. “Ned?” He called out again but Ned refused to open his eyes. He liked Peter’s Dad a lot— he was the coolest Dad he’d ever met— and he really didn’t want to be yelled at by Iron Man for invading his privacy like that. His mum always said that he needed to respect people’s privacy.

“Ned?” Tony called out again before sighing and giving up. “Uh, talk to me in the morning okay?”

Ned wondered if there was a way to sneak out of the Tower before Peter’s Dad could wake up.

——————

Peter was having a really nice dream where he was sitting in the Millennium Falcon about to make the Kessel Run is less than 12 parsecs, making him joint with Han Solo, when someone began shaking his shoulder. Peter groaned, trying to get back into his dream and start cheering when he beat Han Solo’s high score by one parsec. The shaking was unrelenting though and before he knew it, the dream was fading away.

“Wha?” Peter mumbled, opening his eyes slightly as darkness flooded into his vision. The digital clock on his bedside read that it was only a five to one so he hadn’t been asleep for long.

“Peter!” Ned’s voice was quiet but insistent as he continued to shake his shoulder until the other boy was completely awake.“Ned?” Peter groaned, rolling over so he was facing his friend in the darkness. He couldn’t see Ned’s face but from his voice, it sounded serious. “Why you waking me up?”

“Peter! Something happened!” Ned sounded near hysterical, keeping his voice low despite how rushed his words were and his tone was high pitched.

“What happened? Are you okay? Please don’t say you wet the bed.”

“No! I didn’t wet the bed! No, something worse happened! I mean, what actually happened was okay but i’m totally freaking out because i saw something i know i shouldn’t have! And now i think your Dad might kill me— like actually kill me dead! Oh my God, what will my mum say when Iron Man kills me? I should’ve just stayed in bed, God why am i so stupid!”

“Ned?” Peter hissed, frowning at the source of where his friend’s voice came from. “What’s going on? Why is my Dad killing you?”

Ned drew in a deep breath, taking a second to pause. “I just saw your Dad kissing Captain America!”

Peter froze, his brain being unable to take in the information. For a second he thought this was a part of his dream, the pain he felt when he pinched his arm, however, proved that theory wrong. “You what? How did you see that?”

“I went to get a glass of water and i could hear weird noises from the living room and when i turned on the light your Dad and Captain America were kissing on the sofa!”

“My Dad was kissing Steve?” Peter felt like he was lost— since when had his Dad and Steve been a thing? He knew it was normal for people of the same sex to kiss and stuff, his Dad had gone over it all during the super embarrassing talk they’d had not too long ago so he had limited but enough knowledge about sex and relationships in general.

Still, though, the idea of his Dad dating anyone seemed a little weird. He knew his Dad had been on dates before and that before Peter had been adopted, his Dad had dated A LOT of people (his Aunt Pepper always told him to never google anything about his Dad pre-2005) but he’d never met any of the people nor seen his Dad actually kiss anyone. For a long time, Peter had almost expected for his Dad to get with Pepper but it seemed he had his eyes on Steve instead.

For some reason, Peter actually liked the idea of his Dad and Steve dating. Steve was super cool and shared lots of interests with Peter and if he was making his Dad happy then Peter could live with it. Still though, the fact Ned had seen his Dad kiss Steve was a little weird. How come they hadn’t told Peter yet? In all honesty, Peter was a little offended he hadn’t been told.

“Are you sure?”

“They were kissing Peter! Of course i’m sure!”

“Oh my God,” Peter mumbled, fumbling around as he turned on the bedside light. “This is insane! My Dad . . . and Steve?”

“You had no idea?” Ned frowned, blinking as the sudden harsh light made him wince. “I thought i’d tell you and you’d go ‘oh yeah they’ve been seeing each other for months now!’ You really didn’t know?”

“No, Ned!” Peter scoffed, sitting up in bed more. “I had literally no idea! Dad doesn’t really talk to me about him dating and stuff.”

“Has he dated people before? When my Aunt divorced her first husband, she dated three other people before marrying my now-Uncle and having my cousin. She would bring her boyfriends over for dinner sometimes.”

“I know my Dad dates,” Peter thought back on it. “But they never became serious or, at least, he never introduced one of his dates to me. I remember when i younger my Aunt Pepper yelled at my Dad saying he couldn’t bring people over casually when i was there and that he had to be sure and serious about someone before making them meet me. I guess he was never serious about someone before.”

“Oh God,” Ned slapped his forehead. “He hasn’t told you yet so maybe he wasn’t serious about Captain America!”

Peter thought it over before shaking his head. “He likes him, i’m sure. He was probably just waiting for the right time to tell me.”

“And i ruined it!”

“No,” Peter shook his head, a thought crossing his mind. It was devious and probably wrong but Peter was a Stark by name so he knew it wasn’t the worst thing his family had done. “This can work in our favour. Do they know you saw them?”

“Yeah,” Ned frowned, nodding his head frantically. The panic in his eyes had returned. “They saw me when the light came on! I ran away and your Dad followed me and called out my name but i pretended to be asleep and when he was gone, that’s when i woke you up!”

“Okay,” Peter nodded, shrugging slightly. “That’s fine, i’m sure my plan will still work.”

“What plan?”

“Obviously my Dad doesn’t want people to know about him or Steve, otherwise they would’ve said something by now,” Peter pieced it together. “I can use that to my advantage to stay here in New York!”

Ned looked horrified for a second, “You can’t blackmail your Dad!”

“Why not?” Peter looked confused. “Then i can stay in New York with you!”

Ned shook his head, almost like he was trying to clear his head. “Don’t you find it weird that your Dad is dating Captain America?”

Peter shrugged. “No, Steve is cool. I like him.” It was true, despite how shocking the news was and how blindsided Peter was over the fact that his Dad had apparently been seeing Steve behind his back, Peter actually thought the relationship would be good. His Dad and Steve seemed to have a good laugh together and they’d been doing things as a three more often ever since Peter had fallen asleep on both men after his nightmare on his birthday. Steve was always super fun and kind to Peter and his Dad always laughed when Steve was around.

Peter liked the idea of his Dad and Steve dating but he liked the idea of using their relationship as a way of staying in New York even better.

——————

Breakfast was awkward the next day. Ned’s cheeks were a prominent shade of red as he sat at the table slowly nibbling the waffles Tony had prepared, doing his best to avoid eye contact with anyone. Steve was down in the gym with both Natasha and Clint, Bruce was off somewhere reading no doubt and Thor had gone back to Asgard a few days after Peter’s party. That just left Tony sitting opposite his son and his son’s (new) best friend over the breakfast table.

Peter was scoffing down the waffles like nobody’s buisness, currently ignoring Ned’s awkwardness and his Dad’s stares. It was obvious that the tension in the room was tripled since last night when Ned had caught Tony and Steve in a make out session and judging by the way Tony was staring, he was clearly trying to figure out if Ned had spilled the beans or not to his son.

“So,” Peter didn’t even allow himself to feel any embarrassment as he continued to eat his waffles. “When were you going to tell me about you and Steve, Dad?”

Tony seemed to choke on the juice he had been drinking, spluttering slightly at his son’s off-hand comment. He should’ve known Ned would spill to Peter— it had been the reason he’d wanted to talk to him last night so he could try and persuade him not to tell his son just yet.

“What?” Tony looked at Peter like he’d grown two heads. “I don’t know what you—“

“Save it,” Peter cut him off with a stare. He’d perfected the look from the man sitting opposite him himself, having learnt it when Tony was cutting Peter’s bullshit throughout his childhood. “I know about you guys.” Sometimes Tony wondered if Peter’s bluntness was due to being Peggy Carter’s biological son or whether through being raised by Tony.

“Look, Peter,” Tony sighed. He couldn’t even blame Ned for telling his son and he tried his very best to not look at the other boy as he spoke. At his last glance in Ned’s direction, the poor kid had been shaking. “I was going to tell you—“

“I get it,” Peter shrugged. “You don’t want people to know because you’re figuring it out for yourselves.”

Tony knew his son was a genius but times like now when Peter was so clearly gifted and could see the bigger picture without even trying, he was still shocked. “Yes, and Steve is still trying to figure everything out inside himself. It would complicate things too much if people knew. We’d both appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. You too, Ned.”

“Of course Mr Stark, Iron Man, sir,” Ned nodded, his voice tight.

“I’m not mad at you Ned,” Tony leant in, giving Ned a small smile. “I was going to say to you last night that i’m sorry for what you witnessed. It must’ve been weird to see your friend’s Dad kissing someone.”

“It was fine,” Ned swallowed hard, eyes darting towards Peter with anxiety. He knew about what Peter was planning to do and suddenly, he wished he was back at home under his covers so he wouldn’t have to witness this.

“I totally get why you hid it from me,” Peter grabbed all the courage he could as he spoke the next few words. He thought back on all the times confidence had oozed out of his father and how calm and collected he seemed to be when attempting to ‘negotiate’ with people. “But, you know, we’re only young and sometimes we let things slip.”

Tony frowned, not liking the causal tone Peter was using. He could tell trouble was brewing and the way Peter was phrasing things seemed far more threatening than Tony wanted to admit. “What are you talking about?”

Peter forced himself to remain calm. Act like Dad, he thought. “I don’t know, i guess i just mean that being young sometimes i forget what i should and shouldn’t say. I might accidentally tell someone about you and Steve which then leaks to the press. I feel like i need something to help remind me that this needs to remain a secret.”

Ned started to sweat, swallowing hard, as Tony leant forward more with a deep frown. “I advise you to think very carefully before attempting to threaten me, Pete. I’m your father.”

Act like Dad, Peter repeated in his head. He remembered how Tony had leant back in his chair and kept his face calm and collected, giving nothing away when he’d spoken to Peter’s principal last term when Peter had almost set the school on fire for trying to create a new element just like his Dad had done a few years ago. The principal had been threatening to expel Peter but Tony had just causally threatened about the amount of money he gave to the school and that his son deserved a second chance.

“It isn’t a threat,” Peter did his very best to not make his voice wobble. He knew he would be in so much trouble, regardless of if this worked, just by simply talking to his Dad in this way but he didn’t care. He had to at least try. Staying in New York with Ned was worth it. “Just a fact. I can be very loose lipped sometimes and information like this may accident slip.”

“And what, pray tell, would be the thing that stopped you from ‘accidentally slipping up’?” Tony decided to humour his son. Internally, he was seething over the fact that Peter was attempting to try and blackmail or threaten him. But he may as well try and see what his son wanted.

“Maybe if we stayed in New York the constant reminder of being here would remind me about the fact that your relationship with Steve isn’t something to tell people about.”

“Are you kidding me?” Tony snapped his jaw shut, the anger getting the best of him. All the carefully placed calmness and tension suddenly reached it’s peak point as Tony let out an angry growl. “Are you serious right now? You’re threatening me with my relationship over the fact that you want to stay in New York? Do you know how childish you’re being right now, Peter? I’ve already said no, you need to go to school!”

Peter lost his composure as well, his voice getting higher as he spoke. “I don’t even want to go to that stupid, fancy Middle School in Malibu!”

“You need to go to school Peter! The Middle School in Malibu has an excellent staff rate and is one of the top Middle Schools in the country!” Tony let out a groan as he once again got dragged into his son’s argument about school and staying in New York. It wasn’t like Tony wanted to leave, his relationship with Steve was going well (even if it was in early days) and he did need to be near by the other Avengers in case of a threat but above all else, his son’s education came first.

“I can go to Ned’s school in Queens!” Peter argued back, his composure from before gone.

“Why?” Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why would i let you go from a private school to a public school— no offence, Ned.”

“None taken,” Ned squeaked, sinking lower and lower in his seat as Tony and Peter argued.

“Because then i can actually be a normal person for once!” Peter yelled, his small frown growing as tears began to pool in his eyes. Fighting with his Dad always made him emotional as much as Peter hated it.

Peter’s outburst made Tony pause, the man looking at his son’s broken face for a second and feeling like his heart was splitting in two. The mention of Peter wanting to be normal but being unable to achieve it was hitting too close to home for Tony’s liking. “What do you mean?”

“At my elementary school, i was just Tony Stark’s son,” Peter sniffed, wiping at his nose as he tried to quell the tears from his eyes. “Everyone treated me differently— Gwen was my only real friend, everyone else just liked me because my Dad was Tony Stark and then Iron Man. Or they hated me because my last name was Stark and they said our company was evil. Going to a posh Middle School will be just the same. It’ll be rich kids who only care about how much money their friends parents are making.”

“Harry’s going,” Tony tried to reason, his voice feeling tighter than usual as he tried to speak. Peter’s words were reminding him of his own childhood, getting shipped off to different private and boarding schools where the kids only cared about his last name and his bank statement. His own childhood had been rather miserable, only brightened when Rhodey came into his life aged 15 and he was able to see what true friendship was actually like.

“Yeah but his Dad hates you and by extension: me,” Peter groaned, his brown eyes boring into Tony’s like lasers, cutting through the man’s will power.

Tony sighed loudly, putting a hand on his forehead. “Peter, you have to go to school.”

“But what about a fresh start?” Peter pouted, a slither of hope growing in his chest as his Dad looked up. “Here in New York? I can go to Ned’s school and be enrolled with a different name? Ned’s new Middle School has a fast track entrance to Midtown High School if you pass the tests!”

Tony had to admit he had heard quite a few good things about Midtown School of Science and Technology. As much as Tony hated the idea of enrolling Peter into a public school when he had the means of upgrading to a private school, he couldn’t help but think back to what he’d said to Peggy when the adoption had been fresh and Peter was still just a chubby faced 4 year old who carried Mr Bear around like a lifeline. He’d promised to give Peter, Peggy’s lost son, a normal life. Growing up as Tony Stark’s adopted son wasn’t easy and having his face plastered on newspapers was something no child deserved so Tony could understand why Peter didn’t want that anymore.

He deserved to give Peter a chance at a real life and if that meant enrolling him in a public school under a fake name just so he could try and act like a normal 11 year old and make real friendships compared to the stuffy private school kids, then Tony was willing to go against his better judgement.

“Right,” Tony clasped his hands together, his voice going from his usual Dad voice to his Businessman voice. “We’ll try it out, okay?”

“Are you serious?” Peter perked up in his seat, unable to help the grin that overcame his face as he stared at his Dad. “You’re going to let me?”

“I’ll enrol you as Peter Parker— i’m sure Ben and May won’t mind if you share their last name. Happy will drive you to school every morning and pick you up every afternoon; you better be ready to get up earlier kiddo because traffic will be a pain in the ass. We’ll try this out for a term or two, any trouble like your grades slip or you start getting into fights— whatever happens at those public schools— and we’re straight on a flight to Malibu, no arguments you hear me?”

“Yes Dad!” Peter jumped up from his chair, a massive grin widening with each second. “Yes, yes, yes! Thank you! Ned, i’m going to school with you this fall!”
Ned, despite his pale complexion and looking increasingly like he might faint, couldn’t help but smile as well. He’d been terrified of starting Middle School, especially since he hardly made any friends at Elementary school, so now he was excited to start considering his best friend was going to be coming with him. “We can have sleepovers every weekend!” He cheered.

“Not so fast,” Tony leant back in his seat, a sarcastic grin on his face as Peter’s smile faded when he looked at his Dad’s cocky expression. “You’re grounded, kiddo.”

“What?” Peter roared, mouth opening with outrage. “Why?”

“For attempting to blackmail me with my relationship, that’s why.”

“Oh,” Peter climbed back into his seat, continuing to eat his now cold waffles like the last ten minutes had never happened. “I guess that’s fair. I think it’s cool you’re dating Steve now, Dad.”

“You think so? You aren’t upset or anything?” Tony frowned, staring at Peter’s face like he was trying to detect any lie or upset. Peter just remained passive, shoving waffles into his mouth.

“Steve’s cool,” he stated simply. “Now we’re staying in New York it means you can spend more time with him.”

Tony smiled slightly, thinking about the blonde hunk who never failed to make him smile or exasperatedly roll his eyes. “I guess so,” he agreed.

“I can’t wait to go to school with you Ned,” Peter whispered to his best friend a few minutes later, the buzz of winning what he wanted still making his body feel all happy and giddy.

“Me too,” Ned whispered back. For the first time in his life, Ned was excited for September to roll around.

Chapter Text

“What if no one likes me?” Peter bit his lip, snuggled under the covers as he peered up at his Dad. It was the night before he was due to go to his new school and the nerves had skyrocketed. Peter honestly felt like he would be sick as he laid down on his bed, watching his father with tired eyes. His stomach kept doing twists and turns, all of the ‘what ifs’ circling around in Peter’s brain.

“They’ll love you,” Tony reassured, brushing some hair out of Peter’s face. He kept his voice low and soft despite the increasing nerves he was feeling as well.

“You’re just saying that because you’re my Dad,” Peter pouted. “You’re biased.”

Tony rolled his eyes, a smirk growing across his face. “It’s still the truth. How about we ask the rest of the team, huh? I’m sure they’ll all say the same.”

“They’re biased too!”

“What about Ben and May?”

“Biased!”

Tony paused for a second before raising one eyebrow and giving Peter a look. “What if i call Aunt Pepper, huh? I’m sure she’ll agree with me.”

Peter considered his Dad’s words; his Aunt Pepper was the most straightforward and honest person he’d ever met. She would never lie. But Peter didn’t need his Dad to call Pepper to ask if she believed Peter was loveable. He knew she would say yes in a heartbeat.

“But what if the reason people only liked me was because of my last name?” Peter chewed at his lip, letting all of his fear leak out for his father to hear. He was desperate for a normal life, sure, and public school was a part of that normal life but there was a growing fear of Peter’s that if he became a normal kid with a normal last name then it would reveal that the last 7 years were all a lie. What if the reason people were only ever nice to him and called him smart and said he was such a nice person was all because he had the weight of the Stark name on his back. What if now he went by Parker, at least at school, the kids and adults would no longer see the need to kiss his ass and Peter would finally realise he wasn’t as special or nice as he’d been told.

“You’re the best kid i’ve ever met,” Tony frowned, worried about his son’s insecurities. He knew what it was like for the Stark name to dictate friendships and keep you questioning what was real and what was not. “Everyone will love you for who you are, not because of your name.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” Tony knew he shouldn’t make the promise because it was out of his control but he couldn’t help it. Peter looked so nervous and scared that he had to try and ease his mind. After all, his kid was a wonderful human being and Tony could only hope everything would go well for him the next day.

There was a quiet knock on the door, drawing both Tony and Peter out of their thoughts. Steve stuck his head in, looking awkward but unapologetic at the same time. “Can i come say goodnight?” He kept his voice quiet, waiting for Peter’s nod before walking into his room.

Tony smiled up at his boyfriend, watching as Steve knelt down beside him so he was kneeling by Peter’s bed, one hand going up to run a thumb over Peter’s forehead. “You’re going to have so much fun tomorrow, Pete.”

“Will they like me Steve?” Peter voiced his concerns to the blonde man. “Dad says they will.”

“Without a doubt,” Steve didn’t even hesitate to answer. “They’re going to adore you— who wouldn’t?”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Tony nodded, his hand joining with Steve’s free one. Peter watched as his Dad and boyfriend smiled down at him, something warm filling his chest. Ever since Ned had spilled the beans about their relationship, Peter had been enjoying watching his father and Steve interact more like a couple together. They held hands and kissed each other’s cheeks when in Peter’s presence, creating the illusion of a perfect family.

Peter liked it. After years of it being just him and his mum and then just him and his Dad, Peter liked that finally, those twos would become a three. It helped as well that he really liked Steve, the guy was the nicest person ever and he always knew what to say to put Peter’s mind at ease.

“And you promise you’ll both pick me up afterwards?” Peter asked even though he knew the answer. His Dad had promised only hours earlier that he and Steve would be parked and ready to take him for ice cream the second the last bell rang.

“We’ll be there,” Steve nodded, his heart seeming to constrict in a happy way as he watched Peter’s features start to turn lax as tiredness started to win out. He tried to push away all the thoughts he had about the child he’d had with Peggy. He wondered if things had been different, if he hadn’t got frozen in the ice and his child hadn’t been kidnapped, would Steve have done the same thing he was doing now except only the year would’ve read 1957. Would he have sat beside a bed, except with Peggy not Tony, as they reassured their child the night before Middle School?

Steve hated that he would never know.

“You can have as many scoops of ice cream as you want,” Tony threw in, making Steve roll his eyes and Peter to smile.

“As many as i want?”

“As many as you want,” Tony nodded, leaning in to kiss his son’s cheek. “But now— sleep. You need to be well rested for your first day; you don’t want to be making friends looking like a zombie.”

“Everything will be fine Peter,” Steve paused, not knowing whether or not he should give Peter a kiss or not. He’d helped Tony put the boy to bed before but there seemed to be something more intimate about it this time. In the end, he settled with ruffling Peter’s hair before following Tony out of the door.

“Poor kid,” Tony bit his lip as they retreated to the sofas. “He’s so nervous.”

“He’s tough,” Steve smirked, enjoying how his boyfriend looked in the dim lighting of the low lights. Everyone else had retreated to their rooms, leaving Steve and Tony back again on their infamous sofa, alone. “Just like his Dad.”

“Just like his mum,” Tony corrected.

“Oh yeah?” Steve leaned forward, only paying half attention to the conversation. “Was she a fighter too?”

“Very much so,” Tony nodded, barely able to get his words out before Steve’s lips were on his own. He’d grown to love the post-putting-Peter-to-bed make out sessions.

——————

It was dark. Peter knew exactly where he was and that he was in a nightmare the second the darkness flooded his vision and everyone around him started to speak in a different language. He’d had this nightmare so many times growing up that Peter just knew this wasn’t real anymore.

But that didn’t mean the terror didn’t seize him up like every other time. The voices were rushed, their accents thick as they talked about things Peter couldn’t understand. There seemed to be several men standing around him, not that Peter could see. Everything was pitch black, almost as if his eyes were squeezed closed or something was wrapped around his head.

A hand was grabbing at his wrist in a vice grip, dragging him somewhere that Peter didn’t want to go. He knew it was a nightmare but that didn’t stop his heart from racing and an increasing panic to bubble up inside of him. Peter was petrified, every bone in his body feeling brittle and tensed up whilst all the hairs on his arm stood on end as he started to shake. He didn’t wanna be here. Why couldn’t he wake up?

The rough hand on his wrist seemed to not stop dragging him as Peter cried out. He could feel a bruise already forming as the hand got tighter and tighter, taking different sharp turns that made Peter’s head feel dizzy. He could feel all of the callouses on the man’s hand as he squeezed Peter’s wrist until it felt ready to snap, pressing his nails in to Peter’s skin as he continued to drag him.

“Let me go,” Peter moaned, trying to pull his wrist out of the man’s hand with no success. Despite having this nightmare at 11 years old and knowing a trick or two about how to fend off bullies (curtsey of Auntie Nat), Peter felt weak in that moment. He felt smaller and less able to defend himself. It was too dark— or at least it was dark to Peter— to be able to see why he felt so small and given everywhere he looked the darkness seemed to follow, it made his attempts to escape end in failure.

The man holding his wrist paid Peter no attention, continuing to speak in harsh whispers to someone else that Peter couldn’t see. They must’ve entered a different room now because it was suddenly cold. Like being dragged into a freezer, Peter started to shake as the cold air blasted him. His teeth immediately started chattering as he stood small and helpless in the bitter wind.

The grip on his wrist was released but before Peter could dash off in a direction that he hoped could lead to the door, someone was grabbing him under the arms and lifting him up. Peter squirmed and yelled, crying out in a pitiful whine as he was carried away somewhere as the darkness continued to fold around him. Who was this? Why was he here?

He was pushed in to a small space, the metal behind his back sending shivers down his spine as the coldness seemed to burn him. The hands of the person who’d carried him was now pushing him back with one hand on his chest whilst the other seemed to be strapping him in. Peter felt the click of restraints and suddenly the hand holding him into the enclosed space was gone. He tried to move or wriggle out but there was no where to go. He was stuck.

“Let me go!” Peter sobbed this time, tears running down his cheeks. He didn’t feel like he was 11 years old, he felt younger and more scared. His thoughts kept going back to his mummy but instead of seeing her old, wrinkled face, he remembered how she looked when he’d last seen her before he’d been taken. He saw her smooth skin and wide smile and the way her eyes sparkled when she’d kissed him goodnight on that final night.

Colour suddenly flooded Peter’s vision, some kind of bag having been lifted off his head as the darkness was replaced by a flood of lights and blurry shapes. The tears were still in his eyes as he sobbed, cringing at the sudden intrusion of light. He didn’t remember the nightmare getting to this point before. Normally it ended before the darkness could be taken away.

“Sweet dreams,” the man who’d been speaking in a different language, his accent harsh and his teasing tone cruel, stepped forward. Peter couldn’t see his face apart from a slightly pointed chin and wide, crooked smile. The tears were swimming in his eyes, making everything blurry and disjointed.

Before Peter could cry out, the door of the small chamber he’d been pushed inside of seemed to close. Darkness once again washed over him, the ice cold metal being the only thing he could feel as his hands and back were pressed up against it until the shivers running down his spine eased away into a peacefulness. It no longer felt cold anymore. Peter struggled to keep his eyes open as fatigue washed over him, having gotten used to the cold temperature by now.

Slowly, Peter let his eyes slide shut. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was his mummy’s face, her lips pressing a ghost kiss to his temple as his mind wandered off.

——————

“What if they make fun of me for being smart?” Peter carried on with his line of questioning from the night before as he stared out the window to where all the other kids seemed to be mulling around. They had 5 more minutes before the first bell would ring and Peter would have to finally leave the safety of Tony’s Audi. Neither Peter nor Tony wanted him to leave.

“Then you ignore them and keep being yourself,” Tony shuffled closer, wrapping Peter up in a hug. He wondered if Peter could hear his racing heartbeat and would know just how nervous his father was himself. “Never apologise for being a smart kid, Pete.”

“Okay,” Peter bit his lip again, turning his head away from his Dad to look at the window. Happy was looking back at them with a worried expression himself, watching as the young boy seemed unable to control the nerves inside of his chest. “What if Ned decides he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore?”

“As if he would,” Tony rolled his eyes at the stupid question. He’d never seen a more devoted friend than he had in Ned Leeds. It was one of the reasons for why he liked the kid so much.

5 minutes seemed to pass in seconds and before Peter knew it or could even attempt to dread it, the sound of the bell ringing seemed to cut through his thoughts. The school was inconspicuous, located inside a building in New York’s real estate with terrace houses dotted around it. It didn’t look like much but Peter had a feeling that appearances could be deceiving.

“Okay buddy,” Tony swallowed back his anxiety as he grabbed Peter’s school bag. All the kids mulling around outside seemed to be saying goodbye to their parents now before heading on inside. “I’ll see you afterwards, okay?”

“Okay Dad,” Peter whispered, grabbing his Star Wars book bag. He desperately wished that his father would be able to walk him to the door of his school but the whole point of public school was to hide who he really was and having Tony Stark say goodbye outside his school was doing the opposite of that. “I’ll, um, see you after.”

Be brave, Peter told himself. Be like Iron Man. Be strong. You can do this.

“I love you kiddo,” Tony pulled him into a hug before Happy climbed out the car to round on Peter’s side and open his door. Tony pressed a light kiss to Peter’s temple before the boy gave him a light smile, slinking out the car and taking Happy’s hand as they crossed the street.

All Tony could do was watch through the blacked out windows as Happy crouched down outside of Peter’s school, helped him put on his backpack and gave him a quick hug before watching as Peter turned and walked inside his new school with a look of fear written across his face. Tony desperately wished he’d been the one doing that.

“What did you say to him?” Tony pestered his friend and driver before Happy was even properly back in the car.

“I just told him to have fun and to find Ned, everything would be okay after that,” Happy gave Tony a look through the rear-view mirror. Tony knew how he must look and sound, like a crazed Dad who wasn’t ready for his son to grow up. He’d been like this when Peter had started school for the first time back when he’d been 5 in Malibu. Saying goodbye to the kid who he’d had only for several months didn’t feel as hard as saying goodbye to his 11 year old who’d wormed himself a special place in Tony’s heart.

“He’ll be okay Boss,” Happy tried to be encouraging as they drove off back to the Tower. “He’s a good kid.”

“Yeah,” Tony mumbled. Peter was a good kid— he was too good. Almost too good in the sense that he seemed to always trust people without a second thought. For some reason, Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just sent his son off to the lions.

——————

Peter wrapped his hand around his wrist as the chatter from the cafeteria seemed to bombard his ears. He’d managed to find Ned in the first 2 minutes upon entering the school, the two of them having a happy little reunion before promising to never leave each other’s sides ever again. (That was made easier when it turned out their timetable was almost completely identical).

The first half of the day seemed to have flown by as Peter sat in the cafeteria now, picking slowly at his lunch. Public school wasn’t half as bad as his Dad had made it seem, the teachers so far had been nice and welcoming, the classes had been a lot to what Peter was used to but the content was just as easy for Peter to learn as it normally was. He was even enjoying himself, making new friends and learning.

“Peter?” Ned’s voice suddenly cut through his mind. “Peter, did you hear me? I just asked you what you thought of the food? Don’t you like it?”

“Huh?” Peter was broken out of his daze, Ned’s words finally catching up to him. He noticed how his friend’s plate was completely clean whilst his was more than half full. It wasn’t that he didn’t like it— sure, it was less fancy than the food he was used to and there was something about the meat that seemed off but he didn’t not like it per se. “I’m just tired.”

“Oh, did you not sleep well last night?”

Peter shook his head, thinking back on his nightmare. He’d woken up around 4am, shaking in a cold sweat when he realised he’d kicked his blanket off in the night which had been why feeling so cold had felt so real in the nightmare. For the next hour and a half, Peter had tried to fall back asleep but waking up in panic and the nerves of starting school had been enough for Peter’s body to refuse. He hadn’t told his Dad that he’d woken up though, Peter had been scared Tony would make him skip the first day if he’d mentioned it.

“No,” Peter shrugged, feeling extremely fatigued. “Probably just the nerves.”

Ned nodded in understanding. “I was a wreck last night, the only reason i could sleep was because i knew you would be here today.”

Peter smiled at his friend, glad he could offer that emotional support even when not present. “I’m glad i’m here.”

Ned was about to say something more when the bell rang, indicating they had 5 minutes until the start of their next class. For both boys it was the same class: Physics. Peter’s favourite. Despite the tiredness and the aching of his bones from the lack of sleep, Peter was excited to have his first Physics lesson. He was a whizz at Maths and loved science so the two seemed to go hand in hand.

“I hope our teacher is like Mrs Hobbs,” Peter whispered as he and Ned took two random seats near the back. “She was lovely.” Their Maths teacher had greeted the class with a smile and promise to let them sit wherever they wanted as long as they behaved. Peter had left the class wishing it had gone on longer just so he could see her warm smile once more.

Alas, their new teacher was the exact opposite of the kind-hearted Mrs Hobbs.

“My name is Professor Petrov,” their teacher boomed as he walked into the classroom the second the bell rang for the final time to indicate class had started. He was a tall, dark haired man with a prominent jaw. He had a pair of wire glasses over his nose and a disgruntled expression as he surveyed his new class. With high cheekbones and thin lips, their new teacher looked extremely intimidating.

A far cry from what Peter had been hoping for.

Professor Petrov wrote sharply on the board, the white board pen held firmly in his hand. The squeaking of the pen goes against the board made more than a few students cringe as he wrote his name. “And i will be your Physics teacher. I do not tolerate backtalk, talking when i am talking, giggling or any other childish behaviours. You are here to learn so i expect you to sit there and do ask i ask. Have i made myself clear?” His Russian accent was strong, almost as sharp as his words as he glared at the cowering children before him. Peter was suddenly glad he and Ned had chosen to sit in the back.

“I see you have chosen your own seats.” Professor Petrov continued to glare, his narrow eyes seeming to made all the children shiver. “This will not do. When i call your name i expect you to move to where i point. Aaronson and Simmons, you sit here. Collins and Reeds, sit here. Hurry it up.”

Peter shared a sad look with Ned, knowing the chances of them getting seated together would be small. It seemed their teacher had decided to just randomly place people. At least it was only one lesson that he would be parted from Ned, Peter tried to think.

“Leeds and Maritza, here. Now, come on. Parker and Jones, here.”

Peter quickly moved to the seat near the front that Professor Petrov had pointed at. He sent Ned another sad look as they parted, grabbing all of his stuff and hurrying to sit at the occupied table. The other person sitting there must be the so-called Jones that Peter was now partnered with. She was a rather tall girl with dark skin and a head of curly, brown hair that she’d tied up into a messy ponytail. She didn’t give him a second glance when Peter sat down beside her.

“Hi i’m Peter,” Peter checked to make sure Petrov wasn’t looking as he introduced himself. The girl, Jones, gave him a deadpan look before turning back to her large book. Out of everyone in the class, she seemed the least affected by Professor Petrov’s harsh words and cutting manner.

“Michele,” she spoke up finally just when Peter thought he was going to spend the next school year not knowing her name. She didn’t look back at him as she continued to read her book. Peter tried to glance at the words, expecting to see some pictures or a familiar name but nothing stood out. The print of the words were small but from the way Michele had her head bent down into it, she seemed to think it was interesting.

“What book you reading?”

“War and Peace,” Michele shrugged like it was no big feat. In the back of his mind, Peter could still hear Professor Petrov calling out names from the back of the class.

“Isn’t that a big book?” Peter seemed taken aback. He’d found the book on the shelf of Dr Banner’s room this summer and after struggling to just lift it up, he’d been shocked to see just how big it seemed to be. Peter had been convinced it would take him 10 years to read if he tried.

“Yes, so?” Michele narrowed her eyes slightly, looking up at Peter with a small frown. “You think i can’t read it?”

“What?” Peter felt his cheeks flush at Michele’s words. “Uh, no! I just mean because it’s so big, it must take forever to read!”

“You’re expecting me to be a slow reader,” Michele’s eyes seemed to be burning holes into Peter’s skull. “What, because i’m a woman or because i’m young?”

Peter swallowed hard, not knowing how to answer. “You can be a fast reader!” He tried to backtrack. “I’m sure you are a fast reader!”

Michele seemed to glare for a few seconds longer before she finally rolled her eyes and turned back to her book as if the conversation had never even happened. “I was just messing with you.” Peter was sure he could see a thin smile on her face but the panic from what had just happened made him question if he was hallucinating it.

“Oh, uh, yeah— funny,” Peter panted, swallowing hard as he turned to stare at the front. Michele carried on reading as if nothing had happened whilst Peter tried to calm down his increased anxiety. He really thought he’d insulted her for a second just then.

His fingers wrapped around his wrist again, squeezing hard just like in the nightmare. It felt so familiar, like it had happened not just in the confines of his mind. He could still remember the sound of the voices as they spoke in different languages and could see the thin smile of the man as the tears had clouded most of his vision. He could remember the coldness . . .

He shivered just as Professor Petrov seemed to finish assigning seats, moving back towards the front with stiff steps. His hands were behind his back like a soldier, his face once again stony and cold. “I expect you to sit here from now. No whining or complaining for i will not care.” There was something familiar about the man’s voice that Peter just simply couldn’t place. It was like ice was thrown down his back each time the man spoke.

“We’ll be starting today with Einstein’s Theory Of Relativity, if you don’t know what i’m talking about then i suggest you pick up a book and do some reading as i won’t be going into it with much detail. This is basics.” Professor Petrov wiped his name off the board, grabbing the whiteboard pen in a tight grip.

Peter ended up zoning out as Professor Petrov began writing equations and half explanations on the board. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Michele had put down her book, instead opting to doodle in a plain notebook. Peter tried to catch a glance of what she was drawing, expecting to see a flower or something. Instead his own face stared back at him, a completely bored expression drawn over his features as he stared straight ahead. Michele turned her head, giving him a teasing smile before going back to adding detail into his hair.

Weird.

It was some point after Professor Petrov had moved on from half-heartedly explaining Einstein’s theory and Michele was finished with drawing Peter’s bored expression that Peter caught Ned’s eye. His best friend looked rigid, his entire face paler than usual and his eyes as wide as saucers.

‘He’s scary,’ Ned mouthed from behind his partner’s back. Peter nodded in understanding, giving the teacher a quick glance so he knew he wasn’t watching. Professor Petrov had the aroma of something dark and haunting, his small eyes looking like a glare alone would be enough to make someone drop down dead. He was the complete opposite of all the other teachers who spoke kind words and made sure everyone felt included and not nervous.

‘He’s mean,’ Peter agreed, mouthing the words back. Ned swallowed hard, nodding quickly with a look akin to a deer caught in headlights. ‘I don’t like hi—‘

“Mr Parker!” Professor Petrov’s voice was shrill as he called out to Peter, every eye in the room turning to look at Peter’s frozen and red face. Michele quickly grabbed her pencil and stated sketching the look of horror that dawned over Peter’s face as he was called out. “I see we have a disobedient student in our midst.”

Peter frowned, his cheeks going red as he felt every eye on him. He swallowed hard, feeling his hands start to go clammy with embarrassment. Professor Petrov was no longer glaring, instead opting to raise one eyebrow and let a sarcastic smirk grow across his face. Peter wondered if this was what the man had been waiting for, for one student to toe the line just so he could have a reason to raise his voice.

“I’m sorry—“

“All apologies are discounted,” Professor Petrov spoke in a lazy way. He obviously didn’t care for Peter’s politeness as he cut over him. Peter wrapped his hand over his wrist once again, the intense feeling of fear that was alike to his nightmare gripping him in a vice hold. When Petrov seemed to look at him right in the eye, Peter’s entire body went rigid. He no longer felt 11 when their eyes made contact, he felt small and helpless once again.

“I was just—“

“No, i do not care for explanations,” Professor Petrov cut him off, making Peter’s lips slam shut with embarrassment. Like ice thrown over his entire body, Peter’s body began to shake just like it had that morning when he’d woken up from his nightmare. “That’ll be two lunch detentions. I suggest the rest of you take heed of Mr Parker’s poor example.”

Peter shrunk back in his seat, his face going red as everyone continued to stare at him. A few people looked sorry for him whilst others were just staring with beady eyes and no emotion. If this had been his private school and his last name ended with Stark, Peter was sure this would have never happened. The teacher never would’ve called on him and if they had, Peter wouldn’t have gotten detention. Peter wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad about the normal treatment he seemed to be getting.

The feeling of being cold and scared didn’t go away until he was finally free of Professor Petrov’s classroom. Ned apologised profusely as Peter excused himself to go to the restroom before the bell could ring for their next class. He ignored Michele as she lifted up her sketch book to show him the new drawing beside his bored expression to show the look of fear she’d managed to capture on the page. He ignored everything as he raced to the restroom, locking himself in the toilet and placing his head on his knees.

It took longer than Peter expected for his breathing to calm down and by the time he exited the toilet, he knew he was super late for his next class.

“You’re fine, it was just a nightmare,” Peter whispered to his pale complexion as he stood in front of the mirror. He thought the glass was cracked in the corner but he wasn’t sure for just as he finished telling himself it was all going to be fine, his voice broke and a few tears slipped out.

One thing Peter knew for sure though, he really hated Professor Petrov.

Chapter Text

Things only seemed to get worse after his first day at school. Peter refused to tell his Dad, despite Ned’s constant nagging, about Professor Petrov’s unfair targeted hatred upon him due to fear that Tony would pull him out of school if he knew. The last thing Peter wanted was having to leave Ned and go to the stupid private school in Malibu all because one teacher seemed to constantly take things out on him. Peter decided he could take Professor Petrov’s multiple lunch detentions and mean comments if it meant he got to see his best friend everyday.

It wasn’t even like Peter purposely caused trouble; he’d learnt after the first day that his best tactic was to simply sit back and not do anything. No talking, no looking bored and no getting distracted. The only way he knew how to avoid getting in trouble was to just listen to Professor Petrov’s terrible teaching and do nothing to provoke him.

Even then, he still got in trouble. Even if for the entire lesson Peter did nothing but sit politely, listen and take notes, Professor Petrov still found a minuscule reason to get Peter in trouble. By the time Peter had been at school for 2 months, he’d had more lunch detentions with his Physics teacher than he could count.

“You should just tell your Dad, i’m sure he’ll give Petrov a piece of his mind,” Ned told him as they put all their books back in their bag at the end of the day. Like normal, Peter had missed out on lunch because of his unnecessary detention. He could feel his stomach start to rumble as they made their way out of the school to where Happy would be waiting in his car across the street.

“My parentage is meant to be kept a secret,” Peter sighed, wrapping an arm around his growling stomach. Professor Petrov always refused to let Peter eat during his detentions meaning he’d given his sandwich to Ned, leaving him with nothing for lunch. (He had to give his food away or his Dad would get suspicious that Peter came home with his food untouched several times a week).

“What about your Dad’s driver? Happy?” Ned asked as he pushed open the school doors, facing the sunny New York weather with ease. Kids were surrounding the steps, all talking loudly as they waited to get picked up or started their walk home. “Or you could tell Steve, he seemed cool— wait, what about Ben? Your last name is Parker, it would make sense that your Uncle would yell at him for you!”

Peter sighed, shaking his head. The idea of Ben (or his Dad) yelling at his Physics teacher seemed fun but Peter really didn’t want to cause trouble. The whole point of going to this school (apart from Ned) was to be able to live a normal life and Peter didn’t want to taint that by being known as the kid whose parent came in to fight his battles because he couldn’t handle a teacher’s strictness.

“Its fine Ned; Happy would just tell Dad and Steve isn’t even in New York right now, he went off to ‘visit a friend’ two days ago. Anyway, if i do tell anyone then my Dad won’t let me go on the school trip next week and i’m dying to go!” Their field trip had been announced that very day, with Mrs Hobbs proudly announcing that the school had scraped up enough for their year to go to MoMA next week. All the kids needed to do was get a signature from a parent and pay a small fee for travel and entry.

“True,” Ned nodded, accepting Peter’s thought process. He knew if Peter snitched on Professor Petrov then his Dad probably wouldn’t let him on the trip since Petrov was going to be chaperoning and Ned didn’t really want to go without Peter. “Do you think your Dad will let you on the trip?”

“I think so,” Peter nodded, he couldn’t see why not. “Will your mum?”

“Yeah! So we’ll both go, right? This is gonna be so fun— i can’t wait to go MoMA!”

“Neither!” Peter grinned at his friend, quickly doing their secret handshake before turning away. “I’ll see you Monday! Have a good weekend!”

“You too Peter, say hi to your mum from me!” Ned waved as he wandered off to where his mum was waiting beside the school, a smile on her face as she saw her son walking towards him. Peter waved at them one last time before rushing across the road and throwing himself into the back of Happy’s car. Now that school was over, Peter couldn’t help but feel excitement rise up in his bones. It was finally the weekend! A time away from Professor Petrov and it was finally the weekend where he and his Dad went off to England to see his mother.

“Did you look both ways before crossing the street?” Happy greeted Peter when he shuffled in to the back, looking back to the kid with a small frown.

“Yeah, duh!” Peter strapped himself him, giving Happy a look that said: ‘go! drive!’

“Because it didn’t look that way; it looked like you just ran across the street to me,” Happy continued, making Peter roll his eyes.

“I looked!”

“Not very well,” Happy raised an eyebrow, staring Peter down with an intense look. “Your Dad won’t be pleased if i drop you back home with bruises and cuts on your face because you got hit by a car, kid.”

“I think the most terrifying thing about that statement was you admitted you wouldn’t take me to the Hospital if i got hit by a car,” Peter snarked back. Happy just sighed, mumbling something about the kid being too much like Tony and started the car up to drive to the airport where they were meant to meet Peter’s Dad so they could fly to England.

“Just look next time please,” Happy gave up, looking in his mirrors before pulling out of his parking spot to join the traffic. Peter just nodded absentmindedly, not really paying attention anymore.

The drive to the landing pad seemed to take forever considering Peter was too hyped up about going to see his mother. With his birthday and starting a new school, their bi-weekly visits to go see Peggy had been pushed back quite a bit due to changing schedules. This was the first time in what seemed like ages that they were going back to England. Even though his mother never seemed to recognise or remember him anymore, Peter had still missed her like crazy.

“You ready to go bud?” Tony called when Peter stepped onto the tarmac after what felt like a million year car ride. The private jet was waiting patiently behind his father as he stood on the steps, obviously waiting for his son to arrive. “What took you so long?” Tony frowned when Happy got out the car as well.

“Blame the kid, he was the one chatting to his friend for what seemed like half a year!” Happy grumbled, taking Peter’s school bag out of the car and handing it to his father. Tony just chuckled as he accepted the bag, smiling as Peter tried to barge past him to board the plane.

“Come on Dad, let’s go!” Peter yelled, finally squishing past his father and running up the stairs to get on the plane. It was just as immaculate as ever with a TV screen and plush leather seats. Just like normal, the bar was empty (only juice and ice made the cut) and a larger cheeseburger meal from Burger King was sitting on the table to the left.

“Yay, i’m starving!” Peter immediately grabbed the burger, already stuffing the food in his mouth before his Dad had even climbed on the plane himself, having taken a second to say goodbye to Happy before they went. By the time Tony boarded the plane and the doors were shut behind him for takeoff, Peter was almost done with the burger.

“Whoa kiddo, slow down,” Tony frowned, taking a step forward to strap Peter in. Even though he was old enough to do it himself, the kid had his hands full with food and the plane was preparing to go so Tony decided to step in. He then sat back in the seat opposite Peter, watching as his son finished his meal after minutes he started it. “You’ll get a stomach ache eating that fast.”

“I was hungry,” Peter shrugged, reaching for the chips and shake that were also laid out.

“I can see that,” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Was your sandwich not enough for lunch? I can make you two from now on if that helps?”

Peter scratched his head, pausing in drinking to consider whether he should lie or not. Now was a perfect time to come clean about his mean teacher but judging by the way his Dad was looking worriedly at him, Peter decided now was also a good time for his Dad to freak out.

“I was just super hungry today,” Peter lied, going back to his chips. “Have you heard from Steve? I miss him.” It had been 2 days now since he’d seen his Dad’s boyfriend, the man having decided one morning that he had people he needed to see and had jetted off that very afternoon.

“Yes, he phoned me yesterday when you were in bed,” Tony spoke casually, his gaze moving away from Peter and down to his tablet. “He says he isn’t staying for too much longer, he just wanted to see an old friend from the war time. He misses you too. Pete, geez slow down with the chips— we don’t need you puking before we even fly overseas.”

Peter nodded, forcing his hand to move slower as he reached for his food. He was glad Steve wasn’t going to be away for too long, he was used to it being him, Steve and Dad now— he didn’t like it going back to just him and Dad (even though he loved his Dad to no end).

“Oh hey Dad,” Peter quickly jumped up from his seat, undoing his seatbelt as he raced to grab his bag from where it was left by the door. He just needed his Dad’s signature in order to go on the trip next week and if he didn’t do it now, Peter knew he’d forget.

“Peter!” Tony yelled as he watched his son get up. Thankfully, they still hadn’t taken off yet but by the way the jet was shuddering, Tony knew it wouldn’t be long till they did. Sometimes he thought Peter purposely tried to shave years off his father’s life. “Sit down!”

“I’m coming,” Peter ran back to his seat, just as the jet started to pitch forward. Tony had his hands on his own seatbelt, ready to rip it off if Peter wasn’t able to buckle up in time. Peter clipped his safety buckle on just in time for the plane to leave the ground. The smile he sent Tony’s way did nothing to alleviate his father’s stress. “Can you sign this for me?”

“You almost got yourself seriously hurt for me to sign a stupid piece of paper?” Tony gave his son a disapproving look.

“It isn’t stupid!” Peter grumbled as he passed the form to his Dad, going back to his chips with ease. “There’s a school trip next week to MoMA, can i go?”

Tony skimmed the form, frowning slightly. “I don’t know bud, you’ll have no protection going out like this.”

“Good thing Peter Parker doesn’t need protection like Peter Stark does, then,” Peter shot back. “Please Dad! I really wanna go! Ned’s going!”

“Just because Ned’s going doesn’t mean you have to!” Tony rolled his eyes.

“Well if you don’t sign it, then i will,” Peter huffed. “I’m literally an adult— what kind of 66 year old needs his Dad’s permission to go on a school trip?”

“The kind who looks and acts like an 11 year old,” Tony shot back, reading over the form one more time. What harm could happen for the kid to go on his trip? He’d be with the school and his last name was changed so there would be no target on his back. And if Tony got too scared, he could always get Happy to trail at a distance. “Fine, i’ll sign your form.” He grabbed a pen and quickly scribbled his signature.

“Thank you!” Peter beamed, cheering when his Dad gave him back the form. “It’s gonna be so cool!”

“You better bring me something back from the gift shop,” Tony joked, smiling as Peter cheered like he’d just won the lottery. The kid was definitely hard work but every second was worth it.

——————

“Just remember, if it becomes too much: just say,” Tony reminded Peter as they stood outside Peggy’s door. He had a hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing gently as a sign of support. They both knew these visits, whilst needed to fill Peter’s sadness about being away from his mother, sometimes did more harm than good. It just wasn’t easy for your mother to not even know who you are. Especially because to Peter, it only felt like 7 years since he’d seen his mother as a younger woman.

“Okay,” Peter sniffled, bracing himself for an emotional several hours. He prepared himself to open up the door and see his mother laying in her hospital bed like usual, dark bags under her eyes and wrinkles lining her face. He prepared himself to once again replace the image he kept from his childhood of his mother with brown curls and a kind face, her eyes shining with happiness as she tucked him in one last time with the reality of her frail physique and shaking hands.

Except this time, when Peter and Tony opened up the door to Peggy’s room, she wasn’t alone. Steve Rogers sat beside her bed, holding one of hands in his own, and a few tears rolling down his face. His handsome face was pulled up with a tight emotional pain, looking at Peggy like she was breaking his heart. Both of them turned their heads to see the new arrivals.

“Steve?” Tony was the first to voice his confusion, frowning as he recognised his boyfriend. When Steve had said he was visiting a friend from the war time, Tony hadn’t even thought that person could be Peggy.

“Tony? Peter? What are you doing here?” Steve looked just as confused, looking between the pair like they were the only ones out of place in this room. His question was cut off by Peggy who smiled at her godson standing by her door, her free hand reaching out for the elder man.

“Anthony! You came!” She smiled warmly, her eyes shining with love as Tony stepped forward to take her hand, his other one squeezing Peter’s shoulder calmly. They both remembered how before, back when Peggy’s mind was no longer deteriorating, she used to reach out for Peter first. Her eyes would light up and she’d reach for him like he was the only thing worth reaching for in the entire world, her heart practically growing when their hands met. But now she didn’t even remember who he was.

“Hi Aunt Peggy, it’s good to see you again. I didn’t know you had company,” Tony took a seat in the chair beside Peggy’s bed, opposite Steve. Peter hovered by his father’s side, looking between Steve to his mother. Tony pulled Peter onto his lap like he always did; in the walls of Peggy’s Hospital room, Peter didn’t care about age and being too old to sit on Tony’s lap. Both father and son knew he needed this when faced with his mother’s Alzheimer’s.

“Aunt Peggy . . .?” Steve trailed off, whispering the words with confusion.

“This is my friend, Steve,” Peggy smiled at the blonde man before looking back at Tony, finally noticing Peter in his lap. “Who is this adorable boy?” She reached a hand out to stroke Peter’s cheek, a few tears welling up in Peter’s eyes as she did so. Tony just wrapped his arms around Peter tighter.

“I’m Peter,” he whispered, sniffling slightly. He always hated having to reintroduce himself to his mother. Sometimes she remembered Tony visiting with his son but other times she forgot he existed completely. Never did she remember that Peter was her son.

“He’s my son,” Tony added in. “You’ve met him before Aunt Peggy.”

“I have?” Peggy frowned, looking down at her lap. “I don’t remember . . .”

“That’s okay,” Peter bit his lip, trying in vain to smile at her but failing. It wasn’t really okay, the entire situation was so unfair. Peter should’ve grown up with his mother, he should never have been taken from her. He should actually be 66 years old, having lived a good 50 years with her knowing who he was and if he was okay. But instead, he was 11 years old and his mother had no memory of who he was.

“I had a son like him once,” Peggy’s voice sounded far away, like she slowly losing it. “He had a sweet name too but i can’t put my finger on it; he’s gone now.”

Peter wanted to yell ‘THAT’S ME’; he wanted to tell her that he was okay and that he loved her but he couldn’t. It would only cause her more confusion to understand the child she’d thought she’d lost was actually sitting before her looking 11 years old. Steve sniffled in his seat, a few tears sliding down his cheeks.

Tony cleared his throat, determined to change the subject. “Can i talk to you outside for a second, Steve?”

Steve glanced down at Peggy, the far away look having disappeared again as she smiled at the pair. He nodded stiffly, standing up from his seat. “I won’t be long Peggy,” he smiled back at her.

Peggy blinked, her mouth forming into the shape of an ‘O’ as Steve stood up. “Steve? You’re back! Oh Steve, i missed you so much— i needed you!” A few tears fell down her cheeks which the blonde man wiped away, a look of pain sweeping his face.

“I couldn’t leave my best girl,” he whispered, his lips wobbling as he walked towards the door.

“You’ll be okay here by yourself for a few minutes?” Tony mumbled into Peter’s ear, noticing how pale Peter looked. Pete nodded without any words, climbing off his Dad’s lap as Tony walked to where Steve waited by the door. “Come get me if you need anything.”

“We’ll be fine, Anthony,” Peggy waved her hand, already back to her calm and bubbly self. “I’m excited to meet your son.”

Tony stared at the pair, mother and son, for a second longer before he walked out the door to talk to Steve. It seemed despite their solid relationship, there were still some things they didn’t know about each other.

——————

Steve had been running around in the gym, the sun not even risen in the sky, when the idea had struck him several days ago. It had been kind of like an epiphany, like a lightbulb turning on that just hit him suddenly and seemed right.

He realised that he should go see Peggy.

At the beginning when he’d first been de-iced, he’d put off going to see the woman he’d loved due to fear of what she would say. Finding out that in his time gone she’d had a son, only for that son to be lost, Steve had been terrified him going to see Peggy would only cause them both distress (her for having such horrible memories resurged and him for knowing he could never have those memories).

It had been a cowardice decision but Steve had stuck by the thought of staying away. It was no longer the 1940s and everyone he’d known and loved had moved on. The war had ended and Captain America became nothing more than a story or an antique.

But things with Tony had been going well, they both seemed to understand the other in a way no else had and Steve was feeling more confident with his sexuality. He no longer feared what others thought and he was starting to realise that everything he’d grown up with, all the homophobia surrounding same sex couples was nothing but bullshit. He really liked Tony and Steve knew there was nothing wrong in that.

So after months of being out of the ice, Steve knew he had to bite the bullet and go see his old-flame. His feelings for her remained (how could they not? It felt like only months since he’d last seen her whilst it had been almost 70 years for Peggy) but his relationship with Tony made Steve feel strong enough to go.

Seeing Peggy again after all the time that had passed, it had broken Steve’s heart even just a little. She was no longer the kick-ass young woman he used to know. The time he’d been away had been cruel to her, stealing her child and taking away her memory. When Steve had first approached her bed, Peggy had broken down in tears about how much she’d missed him.

“You’ve been gone for so long!” Peggy had cried, gripping his hand like it had been her life support. Ugly tears had rolled down her cheeks, making her look so frail and broken, her lips twisting into a grimace. “You’ve missed so much!”

“I’m sorry i wasn’t there,” Steve had whispered as he’d leant in closer so his forehead had pressed against hers. “I should’ve been there but i wasn’t.”

“Something terrible happened,” Peggy had started to sob again; she’d broken away from Steve to reach for the picture frame on her bedside table to show a chubby faced toddler in black and white. Steve hadn’t needed her explanation to know who that was. His son. Peggy’s son. The child that had been snatched from them. The kid had looked familiar when Steve had stared at the picture but after a while, he’d told himself that he was crazy.

“I know about him,” Steve’s voice had broken as tears had rolled down his face. He’d nodded at Peggy like he was seeing her for the first time. He’d been able to see the heartbreak that had been written across her face because it was something he understood as well. Steve had never met his son but he felt the loss of him like a stab to the heart.

“He was ours,” Peggy had continued to sob, a dainty finger had pointed to the picture, shaking as it had done so. “He was taken. He’s gone.”

“I know,” Steve had wiped his tears off the picture frame as they’d dropped down onto his smiling son’s face. “And i’m sorry i wasn’t there.”

Peggy had just turned her head away and cried. “I can’t even remember his name,” her admission had been nothing but a whispered breath that had cut through Steve’s heart. After months of Fury refusing to reveal his son’s name, Steve had hoped Peggy would’ve been able to fill in the gaps he’d so desperately wanted to know. All Steve had was a heart full of love and a black and white picture of his son, with no name or memories of the kid.

Back in the present, Steve stood outside Peggy’s door, frowning at his boyfriend. He still had no idea why Steve and Peter were here. Inside the room, Peter was sitting awkwardly beside Peggy, looking ready to cry. He wondered why the poor kid looked ready to break down in the presence of a stranger.

“Okay, so were you ever going to tell me you knew Peggy?” Steve started, crossing his arms across his chest as he stared Tony down. He couldn’t help but feel defensive about the elder woman, even when against his boyfriend.

“I could say the same thing to you!” Tony shot back. “And for the record, Aunt Peggy is my Godmother, i’ve been coming to visit her for the last 7 years.”

“Only the last 7 years?” Steve frowned.

“We were. . . estranged for a while,” Tony shrugged, choosing his words carefully. He trusted Steve but Peter’s parentage didn’t really feel like something he could share. “And you knew Peggy, how?”

“We were friends during the war,” Steve left out the part where he’d loved her and ended up having a kid with her. “Your father never told you this?”

“Dear ol’ Dad didn’t exactly spend his time talking to me about the good days,” Tony huffed. “The only reason i knew you guys had known each other was because he always saw Captain America as his greatest achievement— not because he spoke about the glory days of being your friend.”

Steve nodded, taking the information in. It wasn’t big news as such but it seemed hard to wrap his head around the fact the woman he used to love was his new boyfriend’s Godmother. Hearing Tony call Peggy his Aunt was one of the freakiest things Steve had ever heard.

“I guess we both should’ve told each other who we were seeing before we left,” Steve attempted humour. “It would’ve saved us this whole surprise.”

Tony chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, i guess so. I should’ve probably realised you would’ve known Aunt Peggy. But i guess you were too busy checking out all the guys from in the closet to pay attention to her, huh?”

Steve went red, shuffling his feet along the floor with awkwardness. He knew Tony was just trying to be funny but the comment couldn’t have been further from the truth. For a second, Steve opened his mouth to tell his boyfriend the truth but he stopped. How would Tony react to finding out his Godmother and boyfriend had a small fling that resulted in a child? It seemed pointless to freak Tony out over something that was over now and could never come back.

“Has she always been this bad?” Steve cleared his throat, deciding to just change the subject.

“No,” Tony sobered, looking through the door to where Peggy and Peter were chatting quietly with a pained expression. “She only got bad a year or two ago. It’s been pretty hard.”

“I should’ve been there.”

“What?” Tony turned to face Steve with a look of concern. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“I should’ve been there for her but i wasn’t,” Steve sighed, placing his face in his hands. “I feel like i let her down.”

“Steve,” Tony stepped closer, placing his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder and squeezing. Their relationship was too new for Tony to know if Steve preferred or hated physical contact when upset. The last thing he wanted was to push him away. “What you did was heroic and yeah, it came with it’s sacrifices which affected all of your friends. But you can’t change the past and i can tell you now, Aunt Peggy doesn’t hold it against you.”

“I don’t regret it,” Steve’s voice was husky as he looked up at Tony with bright eyes and a wary expression. He looked almost as if he didn’t know whether he should say what he wanted to say or not. “I regret it to an extent, sure, but i don’t regret it completely.”

“How could you?” Tony smiled encouragingly. “I hate to honk your horn but you did save thousands of lives—“

“I don’t regret it because it brought me to you,” Steve cut in, swallowing hard. His eyes searched Tony’s like he was looking desperately for something. “This life, this relationship, wouldn’t have happened if i hadn’t of gone into the ice. I’m sort of glad i did, just for you.”

“Not to be mushy but i did too,” Tony whispered, smiling as Steve stepped in closer so they were embracing, holding on to the other like they were afraid to let go. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes you do,” Steve shook his head sadly, stepping even closer so there was only a tiny gap between their moving lips. The air between them seemed hot and exciting as they held onto each other, a pair of blue and brown eyes meeting in the middle. “Don’t say things like that when you deserve everything and more.”

Tony rolled his eyes in a mocking way, a sultry smirk growing on his face as he tried to mask his emotions. There was something extremely vulnerable but welcoming about being pressed against Steve as he said such things. It made him want to speak his truths whilst also run from it, too. “There you go with the Star-Spangled encouragement; see, this is why i love you.”

The second he said it, Tony knew he’d messed up. The comment was meant to be light and easy, something they both could brush off and roll their eyes at but instead, he’d unknowingly opened his heart up for Steve to see. Tony wasn’t sure if he’d completely messed things up or not.

Steve froze for a second, taking in the words as he swallowed. “Did you just?”

Tony broke away, running a hand through his hair as he took a few steps back. His heart had just been torn open, the thing he needed now was some space. Why did it have to be everything he touched just turned to shit? Who was he kidding, thinking he could have a proper, functional relationship with someone he actually lived (and admittedly loved)? Stark men were not made for such happy endings.

“Yeah, uh, lets just ignore that. I didn’t say anything; zip, nada, nope. No words came out this mouth. I should probably go check on Peter.”

His hand was on the doorknob, ready to pull it open when Steve spoke up. “I love you too.”

“What?” This time it was Tony’s turn to freeze, slowly turning around so he was facing the blonde man with both fear and happiness brewing in his heart. Surely he’d misheard that, right? There was no way Mr Goodness, Captain America himself, loved Tony and his self-destructive, sarcastically witty ways.

“I’m not going to ignore what you said because i love you too,” Steve let out a small chuckle, running a hand over his forehead as he did so. “Wow, never thought i would get to this point in my life. I kinda like it.”

“Ditto,” Tony smirked, stepping in closer. The tightness in his chest seemed to retract when Steve admitted his feelings back; for the first time in a long time, Tony realised that actually opening up and letting people know you care really wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Sometimes, it could be the best thing that ever happened.

Their lips met, a spark running through their bodies as they expressed their love. For the longest time since their relationship began, the both of them understood where they stood. They were in love. They loved each other.

They were a family.

Chapter Text

“The plan: is it in motion?” A deep voiced man spoke through the phone, his accent rumbling like the ground during an earthquake. It was hard to tell if he was angry or not but the intimidating man with wire glasses and thin lips who received the call didn’t seem fazed.

“Yes General,” the disgruntled receiver of the call replied back in Russian, his voice low but clear. He could hear the sound of children’s chatter from outside the small room he’d locked himself in. It was almost time to go. “The plan is in motion.”

“No mistakes Agent,” the voice rumbled through the phone, the sound of him snarling raising hairs on the other man’s arms. It was clear this was a do or die mission. One the Agent was willing to take.

“Understood.”

——————

Steve had no idea how he got here, dressed in black with tears running down his face. The rain was pouring down like a waterfall, never ending in their brutal torment as they hit every inch of Steve’s body. He was completely drenched but he didn’t care. All he felt was numb.

Clouds adorned the sky, each one grey and dull to reflect his mood. In that moment, Steve honestly never thought it would be sunny again. He didn’t want it to be.

More tears rolled down his face, dripping off of his nose and onto the ground as he angled his head down. Holding it up seemed too hard now; he’d lost the strength to do most things at this point.

“Steve?” Tony’s voice broke, the lump in his throat moving up and down to make him sound imbalanced and broken. Which he probably was. Steve turned his head to the right, just enough to see Tony’s frame in the corner of his eye, before he shut his eyes closed and squeezed, praying when he opened them all of this would go away. It was just a nightmare, he repeated in his head.

Tony was still standing to his right, soaked to his core, with a look of sheer pain written across his face. The rain had matted his hair down, the strands sticking to his face as he sniffled. His expensive suit was practically ruined, glued down to his body to show every crevice and muscle. Normally the sight would push a smile up on Steve’s face but not now— never again.

Tears ran down Tony’s face too, the dullness of the air seeming stiff between the pair. The brunette sniffled, taking a tentative step forward as his eyes shakily met where Steve was looking at the ground. He immediately looked away, feeling as if he’d been burned.

“I didn’t know,” Tony tried to keep his voice steady, throwing his walls up as he wrapped his arms around his torso. “I swear.”

“All this time he was right under my nose,” Steve growled, the words coming across harsher than he intended. He wasn’t mad at Tony, Steve honestly believed him when he said he didn’t know the truth, but he was mad in general. For months he’d been in agony, never knowing the truth about his child. For months he’d always assumed the worst.

And now . . . Steve knew the truth but it really was too late. He’d been given a second chance but the second he’d gotten a hold of it, that chance had been ripped from his fingertips.

They didn’t speak after that, opting to just stand in silence as the rain continued to pour down on them. With each passing second, both of them got colder and colder but neither cared. No amount of chilly winds or unrelenting pelts of icy rain could compare to the way their chests froze and hearts shuddered at what they’d lost.

Tentative fingers reached out, their hands interlocking as their fingers shook. It was like holding a block of ice on both parties.

The silence became them as they stared down at the gravestone where a 11 year old boy’s body rested beneath their feet, never to wake up.

——————

TWO DAYS BEFORE

“This is going to be the best field trip ever!” Ned yelled as the school bus pulled up outside MoMA. Despite being a weekday, the place was overcrowded with tourists walking the streets and people posing for pictures. Peter’s best friend was practically jumping up and down in his seat, a grin the size of Queens pulled across his face. Peter couldn’t but smile back, finding Ned’s excitement infectious.

“Mr Leeds, lower your voice!” Professor Petrov glared at the excited child, his voice harsh and snappy. Immediately, Ned shrunk down in his seat looking like he’d just been slapped. Their teacher was walking off the bus when Peter decided to retaliate by poking his tongue out at the man’s back.

“Okay kids, when we get off the bus i want you to form a line on the sidewalk— no running off, we don’t want to lose you!” Mrs Hobbs smiled at everyone as she took a step back, watching as the kids climbed off the bus. “Don’t forget your lunches!”

“I’m so glad Mrs Hobbs came on this trip too,” Peter mumbled as they shuffled down the bus, pressed between two kids they didn’t know. He passed the smiling teacher, her dimples growing as she warmly counted the children’s heads to make sure they all got off.

“Me too,” Ned stayed close to Peter as they lined up out of fear of being separated. It was cold outside, the wind taking swipes at them as they stood with all the other kids. Tourists and New Yorkers shoved past them, uncaring that they were pushing past children. “I think i would die if it was just Professor Petrov.”

“I think she’s too optimistic,” Michele’s dry voice cut in from behind the two boys. She had her bushy hair tied back, looking off to the side in a casually cool way. Peter and Ned jumped at her words, not realising how close behind them she was. Whilst Michele wasn’t officially Peter nor Ned’s friend, refusing to sit with them at lunch and instead spending most of her time sketching or reading, she’d started to hang out with them during group projects and extracurricular activities.

“Of course you would say that,” Ned rolled his eyes once he’d recovered from the small scare. “You're Miss Doom and Gloom.”

“Have you done any more sketches of people during crisis?” Peter interrupted Ned, fearing his comment might push Michele away. For reasons unknown to him, Peter actually really liked the dark humour she had and enjoyed her sarcastic biting remarks. In a way, she reminded him of Peter’s Dad (with a lot more Doom and Gloom as Ned would say).

Michele shrugged, unfazed. “A few.”

“My Dad’s boyfriend likes to sketch,” Peter smiles awkwardly at her, feeling a rush of heat run to his cheeks. He tugged on the ends of his jumper as he carried on talking. “Sometimes i draw with him, i think it’s calming.”

Michele stares at Peter for what seems like the longest time, squinting at him like she was trying to figure him out. Her lips tug up slightly into a half-smile before dropping down again. “You have an old soul, Parker.”

Peter let out a puff of air, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “You have no idea.”

Ned was about to butt in when Mrs Hobbs suddenly stepped off the bus, doing an internal count of the children before her before raising her voice. “Okay kids, whose ready to see some art?!”

“No running, yelling or messing around,” Professor Petrov added in, glaring down at the kids. His heavy accent seemed more accentuated as he yelled. Even Mrs Hobbs looked slightly intimidated when he turned around and lead the way into the museum. A few of the children looked around abashed, their eyes wide as they realised they were meant to follow the scary teacher inside the building.

“At least Professor Petrov can’t give me a lunch detention on a school trip,” Peter whispered to Ned as they walked inside the massive building, already in awe of the inside decor. Despite growing up as Tony Stark’s son and being exposed to the wealth the Stark family was saddled with, it still took Peter’s breath away when he set his eyes upon beautiful places.

“You wanna bet,” Ned hissed back, giving Peter a look that screamed ‘don’t test him’. They hung back closer to where Mrs Hobbs was standing, trying their best to remain invisible to Petrov as he signed their class in at the reception desk.

It only took several minutes before the receptionist was waving their class through, smiling kindly at the kids who passed by. Mrs Hobbs shook his hand as she passed, wishing the young adult a good day as she walked through. Peter decided in that moment that the world needed more people like Mrs Hobbs.

“I’ll see you losers around,” Michele called over her shoulder as she walked passed them to go stand alone in front of a painting. Peter watched as she went, slightly entranced by the way her face went all quizzical and thoughtful as she took in painting after painting.

It was like Michele was taking in what she saw and creating her own argumentative opinion in her head, before nodding and moving on. Peter ended up watching her for the majority of their trip, moving behind her trail like a lost puppy, his entire focus on the way her face would change as she took in a piece of art. When her eyebrows creased ever so slightly, the puzzlement was clear to Peter’s eyes: Michele had no idea what the artist was trying to convey— he only saw that look once or twice. Most of the time, Michele would set eyes on a painting and a look of understanding would dawn on her face. She’d tilt her head to the side and something akin to a smile would grow on her face as she simply stared at whatever was giving her joy.

“Dude,” Ned waved his hand in front of Peter’s face. He was staring at Peter with a look annoyance. “You’re so crushing on Michele!”

“What?” Peter’s cheeks turned even more red as he shook his head violently, his trance broken. “No way!”

“So way!”

“Ned, you’re crazy!” Peter’s voice rose slightly, his throat suddenly dry. It felt like swallowing sandpaper all of a sudden.

“You’ve been watching her for most of our trip! This was meant to be fun Peter but you zoned out for literally all of it!”

Peter shook his head again, trying to focus his mind on the art and on Ned. “Sorry,” he cleared his throat. They were standing in front of a dull painting, the colours all dark and the shapes indistinguishable. “This is uh . . . interesting.”

“You’re so obsessed with Michele,” Ned rolled his eyes, turning away from the painting. Peter followed behind him, his hands beginning to shake with annoyance. He didn’t know why but it felt important to him that he convince Ned he didn’t actually fancy Michele. Because he didn’t. Right?

“I’m really not!”

“You so are!”

“Not!”

“Mr Parker!” A voice yelled over theirs, loud and angry. Peter immediately felt his mouth slam shut as he recognised the owner of that heavy Russian accent. His hands continued to shake as the annoyance ebbed away, only for fear to take its place. “I suggest you lower your voice.”

Peter turned around, wobbling slightly as he became face to face (straining his neck up to see the taller man’s angry expression) with Professor Petrov. The teacher had his hands crossed over his chest and was staring down at Peter like he was trying to kill him with his gaze. His thin lips were like razor blades as glared down. “I’m so sorry-“

“Did i or did i not state that children must not yell in the museum?” Professor Petrov cut over him, his voice like a knife. Peter couldn’t help but begin to shake, the colour draining out of his face as he swayed on the spot.

“You did—“

“And were you or were you not yelling just not?”

Peter didn’t really think he was yelling, his voice had been raised, sure, but it hardly qualified for a yell. If anything, the only reason he was being loud was because the childish embarrassment of Ned saying he fancied Michele made his voice rise a few octaves. “I was.”

“I think you and i need to have a chat, Mr Parker,” Professor Petrov reached out a hand, grabbing onto Peter’s forearm and dragging him in the opposite direction of where the class was going. Peter tried to pull away, something in his head telling him to run, run, get out of there! But Petrov was still his teacher so Peter let himself get dragged away to an uncrowded spot, his heart racing a mile a minute.

“I really am sorry—“

“Enough!” Professor Petrov snarled, suddenly seeming ten times colder. Peter glanced around where they were standing, behind some marble podium so they were out of sight of everyone else. At least it wouldn’t be too embarrassing that his teacher was telling him off in public. “I’ve had enough of your attitude, Mr Parker— or should i say Stark?”

Ice was poured down Peter’s back as he froze, his teacher’s words slowly getting registered in his brain. His eyes widened as he took a step back, fear filling Peter’s chest as he shook his head. How did he know? How could Petrov possibly know?

“W-what?” Peter’s lips felt numb as he tried to stumble backwards a little more. Suddenly being out of sight of everyone else didn’t fill him with comfort anymore. Peter was going to turn away and run back to his class— back to Ned and Mrs Hobbs who he knew would protect him— when Petrov’s hand shot out again and attached itself to his wrist, tugging him to stay where he was. The grip tightened, squeezing his wrist until Peter knew bruises were going to form.

When Peter’s eyes met Professor Petrov’s, he thought he would faint. It was like he was trapped in his nightmare, a hand on his wrist as they dragged him down a dark corridor. Why did this fit perfectly?

“Let me go!” Peter whined, trying to tug his arm away but his teacher just held on tighter, a small snarl growing across his face. “Please stop!”

“Stop fighting Mr Stark,” Professor Petrov droned, his eyes full of excitement as he watching the younger boy squirm before him. He squeezed Peter’s wrist even tighter until the boy let out a small cry. “I do warn you that you might feel a slight pinch.”

Peter didn’t even see the needle in his teacher’s hand until it was too late. He let out a cry as it pierced through his neck, feeling like fire was burning through him as whatever was in the needle was suddenly released into his body. His vision started to blur, his muscles stopped fighting and Peter suddenly felt like the world had been tipped upside down.

With a loud thud, Peter collapsed onto the floor.

——————

“How are you feeling Peggy?” Steve smiled down at his old friend, plumping up her pillow in order to feel more useful. He’d decided to stay a few days more after Tony and Peter had been forced to leave so Peter could return to school, deciding that he’d waited too long to come visit her and Steve just simply wasn’t ready to leave yet. After all, Peggy had waited almost 70 years for him to come back; the least Steve could do was spend more time with her when he could.

“I’m alright Steve,” Peggy patted his hand, seeming to be content as she laid on the hospital bed. Her grey hair was combed through and with the morning sun, Peggy looked suddenly older. The lines on her face were more distinguishable and the dark spots of ageing were standing out on her cheeks and chin. Steve couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart, thinking about how, if nothing had gone wrong, he would be in the same situation as her now. He’d be almost 100 with wrinkles covering his face and dark bags under his eyes.

“I’m going to miss you Peggy,” Steve smiled sadly, his eyes darting to the bags in the corner where all of his things had been packed up. After staying a few extra days, Steve had decided it was finally time to go home. He missed his boyfriend and Peter too much.

“Go?” Peggy suddenly became alarmed, her eyes widening as fear took hold of her voice. “Go where?”

“I’m going back home Peggy,” Steve tried to soothe her, keeping his voice low and calm. The nurse had instructed him that when Peggy started to get worked up, it was best to reassure her immediately. He’d witnessed what happened when she had complete freak out the day before. They’d been having a nice conversation when Peggy suddenly spotted the picture of their missing son on her bedside stand and started working herself into a panic, yelling about how he was gone. He’s gone, she’d screamed, they’ve taken him! In the end, nurses had to come in and calm her down.

“I’m going back to New York,” he deliberately smiled down at her with warmth despite the pain no doubt lingering behind her eyes.

“But . . .” Peggy’s eyes filled with tears as she shook her head. “You just got back Steve! You just came back to me!”

“And you’ll always be my best girl,” Steve reassured, moving closer so he took her hand. “I’ll come back, i promise.”

“You need to find him,” Peggy sobbed, her breath hitching slightly. She looked so broken and frail as she looked up at Steve with desperation. “Find him.”

Steve felt like someone had clawed at his throat as he swallowed harshly, bobbing his head up and down. “They don’t know where he is, Peggy,” his voice was barely a whisper as he tried not to break down. It was another reason for why he wanted to leave: staying here was too painful. Every second he was reminded about the son he’d lost.

“But he’s back!” Peggy stopped crying, her eyes widening like a lightbulb had turned on above her head. “He came back, Steve! Oh our boy is back,” a smile grew across her face as she calmed down. “When is he coming to see me? He always comes to see me.”

Steve froze, not knowing what to do. Peggy was clearly delusional, her mind working against her as her lost memories stitched together to form something not real. “Peggy, our son is gone.”

“No he’s not,” Peggy spoke with complete fact, her no-bullshit attitude making a reappearance. “He’s back and he’s the same as he was. He’s an angel. My Peter.”

Steve’s mouth paused as he opened it to rebuke her. Peter? Did she just say Peter? “P-Peter?”

Peggy nodded, unfazed by Steve’s mumbling mess. “Yes, our son. Our Peter.”

“Our son was called Peter?” Steve breathed out, shaking his head out of his daze. Was this real? Did she really name their child Peter or was she getting confused? It seemed too good to be true that he finally find out the name of the child he’d just been calling ‘boy’ in his head.

Peggy looked at him like he’d grown two heads, one of her shaking hands breaking free from Steve’s and lifting up the framed picture of the black and white toddler with a beaming smile and cute face. Steve watched as he took the picture out of the frame, turning the dated photo around to where her neat handwriting could be seen in the left hand corner.

PETER STEVEN CARTER
1950

Steve felt like the breath had been punched out of his lungs as he shockingly took the picture from Peggy’s hand and ran a numb finger over the letters, tracing the name Peter over and over again. His son had been called Peter. He’d had a son named Peter. But with the happiness, came despair. Now his child had a name, it seemed almost more heartbreaking than it had before. Peter had been his flesh and blood and now he was gone, either dead or completely changed.

“He’s beautiful,” Steve tried to keep the tears at bay as he tore his eyes from the picture and to Peggy.

“He’s 11 now,” Peggy smiled knowingly, her eyes filled with warmth as she stared at the picture. “And still just as handsome as his father.”

“Peggy,” Steve shuffled closer, putting the picture down. “He isn’t 11.”

She looked confused. “Did i miss his birthday? How horrible, i can’t believe i-“

“No Peggy,” Steve cleared his throat. “Peter should be 66 years old. We don’t know what happened to him; he was taken, remember? This isn’t 1957.”

“I know that Steve,” Peggy was still looking at him like Steve was the one losing his mind. “He came back to me. In 2005, he came back to me. They found him— they saved him.”

“Who saved him, Peggy?” He tried to keep his voice low despite the growing nausea rolling up inside him. Steve decided that having to casually argue with Peggy over the fact that their child (their Peter) had, yes, been kidnapped was exhausting.

“SHIELD,” Peggy’s eyes darted around the room like she was trying to find something or someone to help her case. “They found him! And Anthony brought him to me a-and i got to see my son again.” Her lips wobbled slightly.

“Tony?” Steve frowned, swallowing down the need to cry. “Peggy, you’re getting confused. The Peter you met is Tony’s son— he’s a different Peter.”

“NO!” Peggy’s voice rose, her eyes filling up with fear. “He’s my Peter! I- I gave him to Anthony but he was always mine! My Peter,” she broke off, a sob wracking her body. “M-my . . .”

“Peggy, listen to me,” Steve drew in a deep breath. The nurse had said to remain firm when explaining things to her. “Our Peter should be 66 years old, Tony’s Peter is 11. Tony’s son isn’t our son.”

“Yes he is,” Peggy gripped Steve’s hands like they were her lifeline. “They did something to him— the bad people, they froze him like you. He stayed 4 years old for 55 years, i searched for him— i really did, Steve. But they found him and he was 4 years old. Anthony adopted him; i begged Anthony to look after him. Where is he, Steve?”

It hit Steve like a tonne of bricks that Peggy honestly believed what she was saying. She truly believed that Peter Stark, Tony’s son, was her biological child. In a way, it made sense: Tony had admitted Peter was adopted and he never spoke about Peter’s biological parents . . . except for that one time he’d admitted Peter did in fact have a mother but never went into who she was. And Tony had told Steve only a few days ago that he’d been coming to see his ‘Aunt Peggy’ for the last 7 years . . . which would date back to 2005, like Peggy’s story.

No this was impossible, Steve shook his head as he tried to brush the crazy thoughts away. This was insane; there was absolutely no way. The Peter he’d spent the last few months living with, the Peter he’d sketched with and watched Star Wars with and laughed with until his sides hurt— that couldn’t be his son. It couldn’t be the same boy who he’d mourned for and felt his heart tear at the idea of losing something he’d never had.

But as Steve’s eyes landed on the picture of the toddler in the black and white picture, he felt as if the world had just been ripped from under his feet. The eyes of the boy staring back at him were the exact same as the 11 year old boy currently in New York. Steve felt like he’d been punched in the gut, thinking back to every time he’d stared at Peter and wondered why he looked so familiar. Why he would look into Peter’s brown eyes and feel like he’d gazed into them before.

They were Peggy’s eyes. The warm brown that reminded him of melted chocolate were the exact replicas of the woman he’d loved’s. The shape of Peter’s nose was the same as Steve’s mother and the angle of his chin was identical was to Steve’s himself. Peter was obviously his biological son that it hurt Steve how close he’d been shoved under his nose.

“Peter . . .” He let the word roll off his tongue, the name having a completely new meaning now. The child in his mind was no longer his boyfriend’s son, a child he cared deeply about, he was now his biological son, a child he would die for.

How could Steve not have known . . .

The phone in his pocket started ringing, the sharp vibrations against his leg breaking Steve out of his trance. Peter was his son . . . what?!

“H-hello?” Steve’s voice was numb as he answered the call without checking the caller ID. A lump was wedged in his throat, making his voice all croaky and harsh.

“Steve?” Tony’s voice filtered into his mind, breaking through the water that filled the man’s skull. It felt like he was drowning, being held under the water as he tried to make sense of the impossible. How could Peter possibly be his son, surely it was crazy! “Steve, i need you.”

Steve was too far dazed to hear the brokenness of Tony’s voice or latch on to the way his boyfriend seemed to cry down the phone. His mind was too wrapped up on the idea of impossibilities to really make sense of anything else. “Why?”

“Its Peter,” Tony’s voice cracked, his words breaking through Steve’s internal drowning. The name of his son was like a slap to the face— did Tony know the truth and hide it from him? Suddenly, the sound of Tony’s cries pierced his heart like a knife.

“What about him?”

Once again, the world came crashing down.

“He’s dead.”

Chapter Text

Whatever Professor Petrov injected into Peter’s burned like hell as it ran through his body, shutting down his muscles until he was no more than a heap on the floor. Peter simply couldn’t do anything but lay on the ground, his vision coming and going as he felt his heartbeat slow down. He desperately wanted to cry but it was like his body was no longer controlled by him. He was in a state of paralysis and there was nothing he could do but gaze upwards at his smirking teacher.

“You must be internally panicking right now,” Professor Petrov looked gleeful as he glanced down at the 11 year old child laying on the floor by his feet. He pocketed the needle before crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell me, Peter Stark, can you feel your heartbeat slowing down? Soon it will beat once a minute— which is undetectable for Doctors and everyone else who tries find a heartbeat alike. It’ll be like you’re dead.”

Peter wanted to scream, he wanted to open his mouth and yell obscenities that his Dad would no doubt ground him for. He wanted to spit at the cruel man standing over him and maybe even punch him in the face for good measure. Peter was never the violent type but he could overlook that given the situation.

But Peter couldn’t do what he wanted; he couldn’t do anything. All he could do was lay on the floor, his back starting to ache as the muscles straightened out and froze, and watch as his teacher rambled on with that deep accent he had. Just like Professor Petrov stated, Peter could feel as his heartbeat slowed down . . . pretty soon it was doing just like the man had said: one beat per minute, no more or less.

Peter had no idea how he was alive or what the hell had been in that needle to cause such a reaction.

“Don’t you worry though,” Professor Petrov carried on, oblivious to Peter’s internal struggle. “It won’t actually kill you— Tetrodotoxin B was created by Dr Banner himself in order to help prevent turning himself into the Hulk. It wasn’t very effective, let’s just say but it works wonders for this purpose.”

Peter wanted to shuffle away as his teacher ducked down, his narrow lips and dark eyes looking far more threatening in the close proximity. A cold hand reached out and Peter wanted to cry as the man placed his thumb and index finger over his eyelids, gently pushing them down so all Peter could see was black. “Be a good boy now, Mr Stark. The plan will go more smoothly if you comply— not that you have a choice.”

With his eyes closed, the fear started to bloom up in Peter’s chest. It was like his body had completely shut off, his mind was still working but no matter how many signals his brain sent to his body, they were all ignored. He could only imagine what it must look like: a young boy collapsed on the floor in an awkward angle, his chest not rising up and down and once they touched his neck, they’d notice the absent of a beating heart.

He was dead to the outside world but internally, Peter was alive and begging to be freed. All he wanted was his Dad. His Dad would know something was up— he could always tell when Peter was faking sleep. Surely Tony would be able to see through this?

Peter wasn’t sure how long he laid on the floor for but he knew Professor Petrov had walked off a while ago, judging by the sound of heavy shoes moving away. When the sound of feet returned, it was accompanied by screams and the sound of people crying.

“Oh my Goodness!” The cry of Mrs Hobbs pierced through Peter’s heart as the woman fell down to his side, shaking hands pressing against his neck. They pressed again and again until a few tears fell onto his face and the woman stepped away with a loud and broken gasp.

“I just found him like this!” Professor Petrov’s voice came back, no doubt having arrived with Mrs Hobbs a few second ago. “I noticed he was missing and when i went to find him, he was unconscious on the floor! What do we do?”

“Move the children,” Peter was sure Mrs Hobbs must look a mess right now with her eyes all red and bloodshot, her skin a sickly pale and her lips quivering. He imagined what she must look like in his head until it hurt too much and Peter decided to just think of nothing. “And call 911— take the children back to the bus, they shouldn’t see this.”

Despite Mrs Hobbs being so close to his body, Peter could barely hear what she was saying over the loud cries and gasps of no doubt his peers. Their sniffles and sobs at seeing one of their friends or, at the very least, someone they vaguely knew on the ground looking suspiciously dead was deafening to Peter’s ears. He wondered if Ned was in that crowd . . .

His question was answered two seconds later when a piercing cry boomed over the rest of the other crying children. “Peter?” Ned broke free of the crowd, his footsteps getting closer as he cried loudly.

“Mr Leeds please step back,” Mrs Hobbs’ voice was ignored by the child.

A warm hand grasped Peter’s, pulling his arm up and against someone’s chest. Peter could feel Ned’s heartbeat, slightly envious that whilst he could feel his friends’, no one could feel his. He wanted to scream at Ned and tell him he was fine, he was alive! But Ned was probably sobbing too hard to even hear him if he tried.

“Peter?” Ned’s voice was drowned in sadness, the tears dripping onto Peter’s body, his clothes feeling the drops every few seconds as his best friend cried. “What’s wrong, Peter? Please wake up. You’re my best friend, you can’t leave me!”

“Mr Leeds, please—“ Mrs Hobbs must’ve stepped forward by now because Ned squeezed Peter’s hand one more time before dropping his arm as the teacher pulled Ned away. Peter wanted to crack his eyes open and say goodbye to Ned; he wanted to tell him that Ned was his best friend too.

“Paramedics are here,” Professor Petrov’s voice was sharp and uncaring over the sniffling noises of children and various gasps of onlookers. Several MoMA workers had arrived by now, no doubt pale and wishing it was their day off.

Just like Peter was sure the plan Professor Petrov had stirred up was meant to go: the Paramedics declared Peter officially dead. No pulse nor breathing nor any sign of brain activity, there was little they could do. From the quiet conversation one of the paramedics held with Mrs Hobbs, they said something about heart failure. (“It’s such a tragic event but there’s nothing more we can do. He’s gone.”)

Peter wanted to kick and scream as they lifted his body, placing it on a gurney and wrapping a sheet around his body and head. He’d never been claustrophobic before but he felt that way now as the sheet pressed against his face and Peter panicked it was too tight to breathe. If he hadn’t been drugged with what Professor Petrov had called Tetrodotoxin B, Peter was sure he would’ve been in the midst of a panic attack right now. His heart would’ve been pounding and his breath would’ve struggled to fill his lungs as Peter’s mind went into overdrive.

Instead, Peter was laying under a tight sheet, getting wheeled away from his peers and best friend into the back of an Ambulance. His body stayed stiff, his limbs feeling dissociated from his body as Peter’s mind yelled for them to wake up but they refused.

“It’s such a shame,” Peter could hear the Paramedics talking as they shut the back of the van and started the car up. “He was so young.”

“You better call his Emergency Contact Sarah,” the other Paramedic spoke up, no doubt driving whilst Sarah sat beside him. “Did his teacher give you a number?”

“Yeah,” Sarah sighed, sounding glum. “God, i hate this part. How are you meant to tell a parent that their child died? Grab me some tissues in case i cry.”

Peter strained his ears, trying desperately to see if he could hear his Dad over the line. Sarah was talking in a sad, quiet voice, no doubt trying to sound sympathetic and professional as she told Tony Stark his son was dead. There were a thousand “I’m sorry”s falling from her lips but Peter couldn’t hear a word from his father. Was his Dad crying? Yelling? Had he collapsed in shock?

“He’s heading down to the Hospital,” Sarah sniffled once she’s hung up. Peter could imagine a woman with blonde hair reaching for a pack of tissues, quietly sobbing before straightening up and using the tissue to wipe her face. “He sounded wrecked.”

The Paramedic, Sarah’s, words replayed around Peter’s head until he felt dizzy. He sounded wrecked. He sounded wrecked. He sounded wrecked. Guilt ate up at Peter’s chest, his poor heart constricting at the thought of his Dad having to be told that his son was dead. Peter had only been in Tony’s life for 7 years but it felt as if they’d always been destined to meet and form the close bond they now shared. If Peter had been told his Dad was dead, he would’ve been wrecked too.

But his Dad would know the truth soon. He’d come to the Hospital, see Peter’s still form and Tony would just know. Dad instincts, that what Tony always said. He had a whole other sense that seemed to detect whenever anything was wrong or amiss with Peter. Faking sleep, pretending he wasn’t upset or ill and when he was scared; Tony seemed to just . . . know. So why would this be any different?

When they arrived at the Hospital, Peter wasn’t really sure what was going on. All he knew was that he was wheeled off somewhere, somewhere quiet where the only voices were of professional people, most likely Doctors, who officially pronounced him dead. Cold hands felt at his neck, pressing on his pulse points for several seconds, completing missing the moment his heart beat once in that whole minute. Heart failure was what they declared.

I’m alive! Peter wanted to cry out, he wanted to grip the Doctors white coat and tell him to try his pulse point one more time. All they had to do was feel that one beat to know he was alive.

“Where is he?!” His Dad’s frantic voice broke through the silence, the sound of feet thundering towards where Peter laid. The boy could picture his Dad: hair a mess, dark bags under his eyes, said eyes wide and filled with fear he had no intention to hide and dressed in a band t-shirt with grease-stained jeans.

“He’s right here, Mr Stark. I don’t know what you were told over the phone but from what we can gather, your son suffered from heart failure between 2-2:30 this afternoon. He was pronounced dead at the scene.”

“Isn’t there something you can do?” Tony’s voice was rising and Peter hated how his Dad sounded so broken, like someone had ripped the world from under his feet. “Anything at all? Money isn’t an object.”

“Mr Stark,” the Doctor paused. From what it sounded like, she was a middle aged woman with a clear-cut Brooklyn accent. Peter imagined a dark skinned woman, her brown hair pulled back into a bun and sad eyes on her face. “Your son’s heart stopped before anyone could even try and call for medical help. I’m so sorry but nothing can be done. By now, your son’s heart hasn’t beat for 30 minutes— possibly longer. No amount of money or medical advancements can bring back the dead.”

Tony didn’t say anything but from what Peter could hear, his breathing had picked up significantly and there were small sniffles coming from his way. Peter just couldn’t understand how his Dad didn’t know. Surely, his Dad must be able to tell that Peter was faking sleep?

“I’ll leave you to say goodbye and then we have forms that need to be signed. I’m so sorry for your loss.” The sound of a door opening and closing fills Peter’s ears until silence again. In a true professional manner, the Doctor was able to sound sympathetic and dismissive all at the same time.

“Pete?” Tony’s voice was quiet and Peter strained his ears to hear the small thuds as his Dad’s feet moved closer to his bed. If he could’ve, Peter would’ve smiled; surely his Dad will figure it out now. He’ll hold Peter’s hand until his son was able to reuse his body (because Peter was refusing to believe this was permanent) and then he’d get Professor Petrov fired and they’d all be happy again. Maybe his Dad will even give him a new nickname of Sleeping Beauty.
“Petey, come on; wake up now,” His Dad’s hands were cold and shaky as they gently touched Peter’s face. They seemed to caress his cheeks, Tony’s calloused fingers feeling featherlike against Peter’s soft skin. “Please kid, you may have fooled the Doctors but i can see through it. Wake up now.”

I’m trying! Peter wanted to yell. He begged his brain to work in commanding his muscles to move—even a twitch would be a win. But his body ignored him, continuing to lay limp as his heart beat once a minute, forever stuck in the same limbo.

Peter’s happy thoughts of his Dad seeing through the facade broke away as his Dad started to sob, pressing his face into the crook of Peter’s neck. Why was his Dad crying when he knew Peter was alive? Wet tears soaked his neck as his Dad continued to sob, sounding like someone had ripped away his heart. He could almost imagine the red eyed face of his father as fat tears rolled down his cheeks.

Peter didn’t like that image.

“I’m so sorry Petey,” Tony brought his face away from Peter’s neck, his tears rolling down his chin and dripping onto Peter’s face. “I should’ve known— i should’ve taken you to the Doctors to check your heart. How could you have died so young?”

Normally, Peter would’ve rolled his eyes and made some wise-ass crack about actually being old but he was too stunned to know what to think. All his hopes that his Dad could see through the facade were dashed; his Dad really thought he was dead. In a state of shock and denial, sure, but he had no clue that whilst Peter lay still physically, his mind was running marathons.

“I wish it had been me,” Tony confided, leaning forward and pressing a long kiss to Peter’s temple. He left his face there, cheek pressed against Peter’s, his head angled up towards Peter’s hair. “I’m the one with the faulty heart history, if anyone deserved to die it should’ve been me. Not you— never you.”

No one deserves to die, Peter wanted to cry. Except maybe Professor Petrov . . . but even then Peter couldn’t wish death on the man.

“You were— are— my everything, kid.” Peter wanted to say you too, love you Dad. “I just— how? How could this happen? Why? You deserve so much better! Please wake up, this has to be some cruel trick. Come on Petey-Pie, show me those Bambi eyes.”

When Peter didn’t reply (because how could he?) Tony pressed his forehead against Peter’s, kissing his nose gently. His Dad was far better at the emotional and physical forms of affection now than he had been when they’d first met but Peter couldn’t remember a time that Tony was so unbelievably open with him. Kissing his cheeks, nose, forehead and temples, Tony was truly opening himself up and letting his heart explode to the ears of someone he believed was dead.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Yes, Peter whispered in his mind. Tony sniffled, his tears running down Peter’s face as he kissed his forehead once, twice and then once more. “You were so little,” another sniff and a muffled chuckle as he pressed his face into Peter’s hair. “I was still kinda an ass back then and when i saw you, i completely overlooked you. You were telling me off for swearing and all i could think was ‘give me a break’.

I’d never wanted children; all my life i’d felt like an unwanted child so i thought ‘why carry on the Stark curse?’ I was totally fine being the last of the Stark’s, i didn’t care about heirs and legacy’s of that kind— until you. You changed me, Pete. You made me a better man and a pretty decent father.”

An amazing father, Peter corrected in his head.

“This shouldn’t be happening; you should be healthy, growing up and going out to defy me. You should have at least seen your teens and then become a man, having experienced all life can offer before anything remotely like this could’ve happened.” Another cry and kiss. “Petey, wake up please. If i could trade places with you, i would do so in a heartbeat."

If Peter could’ve cried, he would’ve by now. His Dad sounded so desolate and broken. Pleading, almost. Feel my neck Dad, Peter wanted to shake the man. Feel my one heartbeat!

But Tony just sat on the edge of Peter’s Hospital bed, crying as his hands traced Peter’s face with such love and tender care. “I hate that you died alone,” Tony’s voice broke as he whispered the words. “I failed you Pete, i’m so sorry.”

You didn’t fail, Peter sighed, pretending he was hugging his Dad. In his mind, he was squeezing his Dad so tight that neither of them could breathe, clinging on to the other the way they had after Tony came back from Afghanistan in 2008. Peter wondered how his Dad could ever think he’d failed when Peter idolised and loved him so much. No matter if Peter really had died, Tony still wouldn’t have failed— not in Peter’s eyes.

There was a knock at the door not too long after that, his Dad taking a hand away from Peter’s face to rub at his eyes to dispel some of the tears. “Mr Stark?” A deep and familiar voice called out, entering the room. “We will need to take the body now. Deep condolences, of course— the Hospital will handle everything.”

Peter wanted to cry when his Dad stood up from his bed, running a hand through his hair one last time before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Pete. I love you,” his Dad’s voice broke as whoever had walked into the room wheeled Peter’s body off towards the Morgue most likely. Fear gripped Peter’s chest at the idea of being placed in a body bag and stuffed into a cold storage container. But then the fear doubled, seizing at his chest as the nurse who’d wheeled his body away bent down and whispered in his ear.

“You should’ve seen your adopted father, Peter Stark. He looked terrible. Don’t you worry though, everything is going to work out according to my plan,” Professor Petrov’s voice was quiet and harsh and Peter could imagine the man dressed in nurse slacks as he wheeled Peter’s body away. They seemed to go through a million doors before fresh air hit Peter’s face and he was shoved in the back of another van. Petrov strapped his bed down so it wouldn’t slide before slamming shut the van doors and moving towards the driver’s seat.

“I have to say, Mr Stark,” Petrov called out as he drove away, sounding gleeful and smug. “You played the part of the Dead Son perfectly. It was a real award winner.”

For the first time in what felt like hours, Peter’s fingers began to twitch. The muscles in his body woke up like they’d been in a deep sleep, going from useless to in his control again. Peter’s face felt stiff as he wiggled his nose, trying to wake up his mouth and voice from whatever concoction had made them paralytic.

Slowly but steadily, Peter’s heart began to pick up pace; going from one beat per minute back to it’s usual healthy pounding. He opened his eyes, feeling tears well up as he stared at the ceiling of the van with a heartbroken expression.

He was simply 5 minutes too late to tell his Dad that he loved him too.

Chapter Text

“Fury, you son of a bitch,” Steve seethed as he slammed open the Director’s door and barged into his office. The man in question was sitting at his desk, looking surprised at the super soldier’s brash entrance. Fury’s assistant hovered by the open door, looking pale and worried as her eyes danced between the angry Steve Rogers and her boss. “You sick, foul—“

“Whoa, slow down with the pleasantries Cap,” Fury interrupted, raising an eyebrow as he stood up from his chair. He extended a hand towards the seat in front of his desk. “Why don’t you sit—“

“Don’t patronise me!” Steve kicked out, making the chair fly across the room. Fury’s assistant let out a small scream when the chair smashed against the wall with a loud thud. However, Fury himself didn’t flinch. Instead, he looked at Steve with no emotion like he was trying to dissect whatever was going on in Captain America’s head in the way a scientist would run an experiment.

“You can close the door, we’ll be fine,” Fury nodded to his assistant who hesitated briefly before complying with the man’s wishes. The Director of SHIELD turned his attention back to Steve, something sad in his eye as he spoke softly. “I’m guessing this has something to do with Peter Stark? I was very sad to learn of his passing this morning, i’m sure—“

“You lied,” Steve spat, the rage burning through his veins as he looked at the bald headed man before him. A shaky hand rose up, pointed at Fury as Steve seethed. He could feel his blood boiling as he continued speaking. “Months ago when i first woke up, you told me about my son. I asked you if you had found him and you said no. No! You lied! You found him 7 years ago and lied to my face!”

Steve clung to the anger, letting it simmer and burn as he tried to hold himself together in some form of fashion. It was like grasping at clouds, the anger slipping in and out of his grip. But Steve was nothing if not stubborn and he refused to let the burning hatred for Fury go. The second the anger subsided and Steve no longer felt the desire to yell, he knew the depression and despair would sink in. The endless heartbreak that would chew him up and spit him back out; it was cruel to find out his son had been found only for the boy to die before Steve could properly look at him and know he was staring into the eyes of his own child.

“What gives you the right to lie to me?” Steve ended his rant, glaring daggers at Fury. He’d never felt so angry in his life— even during the War when he was fighting literal Nazis Steve hadn’t felt this furious.

“The boy was happy where he was,” Fury sighed, taking a seat again despite Steve’s obvious resentment. “Telling you would only further complicate matters. It wasn’t as if you were never going to be told but you’d just woken up from the ice: you were disorientated and confused. You hadn’t even known Agent Carter had been pregnant and then we spring an 11 year old boy on you? It wouldn’t have worked out for either party.” Fury clasped his hands together and watched Steve with no anxiety.

“I still had a right to know—“

“Granted,” Fury nodded. “It wasn’t my best hour but measures sometimes have to be taken whether liked or not. Peter was comfortable in his life, adding you would’ve just messed things up.”

“He was my son!”

“And what were you expecting to do, hm?” Fury continued to watch Steve, relaxed as ever. “Play house? Adopt him? You were in no fit state—“

“It doesn’t matter, i’m his father—“

“He already had a father!” Fury cut in, raising his voice a little as he addressed Steve. “He had a comfortable life despite the complicated situation. Throwing you in, who no doubt would’ve tried to take him from his already present father, would’ve made a difficult situation impossible.”

Steve tried to think back to all those months ago when he’d first come out of the ice. He hadn’t known Tony then, nor liked him, so Steve doubted he would’ve been very forgiving over the fact that the man had been raising his child. As much as Steve hated to admit Fury was right, he knew that if he’d been told Peter was his son, he would’ve done all he could to retract Tony’s guardianship.

Just like Steve had been fearing, the anger slipped from his grasp. Defeat rolled over him, crushing him down until all Steve could feel was the constant ache of tiredness. The feeling was akin to when Bucky died, sitting in the destroyed bar unable to get drunk as he’d cried. Except this was almost worse: when Bucky died, Steve could still cling to the memories he had of his best friend; with Peter, Steve had very few memories and none of them involved him knowing Peter’s true paternity. He’d always looked at Peter like he was an adorable young boy and his boyfriend’s son— if only Steve had known . . . maybe the hole in his chest after he’d been told the news would’ve closed up.

He sank down into the other leather seat facing Fury’s desk (considering the first one was currently laying on the floor by the wall opposite) and placed his head in his hands. Steve’s bones felt a million times heavier as he thought over what Fury had just told him.

“You never even gave me a chance,” Steve hated the fact that he sounded so defeated. “You never gave me the chance to be his father.”

“In my defence, i didn’t estimate the boy’s life to end so short,” Fury sighed, sounding rather weary himself. “The fact of the matter was that neither of you were ready. One day you could’ve been but that day wasn’t back then.”

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Steve whispered, pressing his fingers into his eyes to stem the tears that wanted to fall. “I never even got to hold Peter, knowing he was my son. I never even got to tell him i loved him.”

“Peter was a loved child,” Fury supplied.

“And how would you know?” The words were harsh and icy but Steve didn’t care. He felt as if he had full right to hate Fury right now.

“Because i saw how Agent Carter cared for him . . . and i saw how Stark raised him. Trust me, Stark was not my first choice for your son’s guardian but Agent Carter insisted and, well, that woman is always right.”

Steve hadn’t even thought about Tony in the entire time his mind was swirling around the information of Peter’s my son, Peter’s dead, Peter’s my son, Peter’s dead— The second Steve had been told of the news, he’d bolted it out of Peggy’s Hospital room and taken a plane straight to DC so he could give Fury a piece of his mind. Not for a minute had Steve stopped and thought about going home to New York where his grieving boyfriend would be.

Did Tony know? Steve wasn’t sure. The man had never hinted that he knew the truth nor acted any differently; would Tony have told him if he had known or would’ve have tried to keep Peter all to himself? Steve wasn’t sure and he didn’t know what answer was worse.

Suddenly, all Steve wanted was to be with his boyfriend and to discover the truth.

It was like Fury read his mind. “There’s a jet waiting for you to take you back to New York,” he leaned back in his seat, his one eye fixed on Steve’s face. “From what i’ve heard, the funeral is tomorrow morning. You take the jet now and you’ll make it on time.”

“Will you be there?” Steve stood up from the chair, his legs feeling like jelly as he used the chair to support himself. His brain felt lightheaded but he powered through.

“No,” Fury shook his head, looking solemn. “I don’t think my presence will be appreciated on either yours or Stark’s part.”

Steve couldn’t help but agree.

——————

Tony stood in front of the mirror, staring blindly at his reflection for what seemed like hours. His hands were shaking as they tried to tie his tie, constantly fumbling as he failed over and over again to make it perfect. The finished effect was sloppy but Tony didn’t care. Having a shit tie was the least of his problems right now, especially since the only reason he was wearing this tie was because he was about to attend his 11 year old son’s funeral. Something he’d never thought he would have to do.

He sighed into the mirror, taking in his dull complexion. The bags under Tony’s eyes were almost as dark as his suit and the slight wrinkles on his face were more prominent and harsh. In general, Tony looked like shit with an unshaven beard and his hair a mess. This was his first time he’d gotten out of bed since he’d seen Peter’s body get wheeled away and already Tony had lost a ton of weight.

Peter would’ve scrunched up his noise, mumbling something about being scruffy looking (no doubt making a Star Wars quote as he did so) if he’d been alive to see Tony right now. But the boy would never make a joke about his appearance ever again. And Tony would never be able to roll his eyes as the kid made yet another Star Wars reference. Those moments were something of the past now.

It was like a punch to the gut as the remembrance of why he was there, why he dressed in a black suit and why he looked so dull, rolled over Tony. His son was dead. The funeral would be starting soon. He’d never be able to see his kid ever again. Peter was currently in a casket downstairs, ready to be buried. The only thing Tony could be grateful for (if he could even feel anything other than the constant numbness) was that someone, most likely Pepper, had handled the funeral arrangements, meaning Tony had been able to spend the last few days wallowing in his grief.

There was a quiet knock at the door, startling Tony out of his thoughts. He tore his eyes away from his complexion to watch as Steve’s blonde head poked through the door, his eyes downcast and face devoid of colour. Tony had been expecting to see Rhodey, his best friend coming up to say the service was about to start so instead to see his boyfriend, it was like a breath of fresh air.

“Steve,” Tony all but sighed the name, watching as the man walked into his room with a glum expression. They hadn’t spoken since Tony had broken the news, having called Steve the second Peter’s body had left his sight. He wasn’t sure if it had been a conscious decision on both their parts to not communicate during the past few days but all Tony knew was that he’d missed Steve and now he was here. He would be there for Peter’s funeral . . . for some reason, that felt like the only gift the Universe had given him (after Peter, of course).

“You made it,” Tony made to step forward but Steve took two steps back, his back now pressed against the closed door. The frown on his face grew. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you know?” The room was engulfed in tension, both men staring at each other— one with curiosity and the other with wariness. Steve’s words are like whispers but he could’ve been screaming for all Tony cared; the tension was the same no matter how it was said.

“Know what?”

“About Peter . . . Did you know?”

“Steve, what are you talking about?” Tony’s decreasing impatience made him snap the words before shaking his head and turning back to the mirror to try and fix his tie. “Whatever; can we not do this right now? Not that i don’t love our lover’s spats but i really rather not right now.”

“Cut the bullshit Tony and answer me!” Steve seethed, his once defeated expression morphing into that of anger. He stepped closer to where Tony was fixing his tie, eyes glared. “Did. You. Know?”

“For the last time: know what? Throw me a bone here Steve!”

“About Peter’s father!” Steve threw his hands up, sounding exasperated as his voice got louder. “And don’t lie to me— if you’ve been lying for all these months at least do me the curtsey of being honest now.”

At Steve’s words, Tony paused, his eyes widening a fraction. “What?”

“It’s a simple yes or no answer, Tony! Did you know?” Steve was almost yelling at this point, sounding more and more worked up as each second passed.

“No!” Tony’s own patience wore out, throwing the word back in Steve’s face. “I don’t know what the hell you’re on about! Why are you talking about Peter’s father on the day of MY son’s funeral? Who gives a shit who Peter’s father is? I’m his Dad that’s all matters— or at least i WAS his Dad because in case you missed the memo, my son is fucking DEAD.”

“It matters, Tony; it really matters,” Steve sounded broken as he took a step back. The anger rushed out of his face as he took in a shaky breath.

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” Tony bit his tongue as he stared at Steve’s face. He couldn’t, for the life of him, understand why Steve was talking about his son’s father right now. On the day of Peter’s funeral? Who gives a shit about the man who fathered Tony’s son; all that mattered was that Peter had been his son. It was like rubbing salt on to an old wound, reminding Tony once again that the amazing kid he’d raised for 7 years wasn’t actually biologically his— not that it made much difference in Tony’s eyes: Peter had always been his son.

“It matters because i’m Peter’s father.”

Silence.

It took a few seconds for Steve’s words to register with Tony’s sleep-filled, grief-ridden mind but once they computed, he couldn’t help but feel confused. And shocked. And . . . sad? What the hell was Steve on about? It was impossible that he could be Peter’s father— surely Tony would’ve known if his Aunt Peggy had dated Captain America?

“That’s . . . what?” Tony honestly couldn’t wrap his head around what Steve had just said. Was this some kind of sick joke? Peter wasn’t even buried yet and Steve was choosing now to make his terrible debut as a comedian?

“First Fury lies to me . . .” The anger burned off Steve, surrounding him like a coat as he practically vibrated with the emotion. All Tony could do was watch in dumb silence as his boyfriend paced the space in front of him, hands clenched as he seethed. “For months that son of a bitch lied to my face. And what did he say when i confronted him? That i was in no fit state to know the truth! Peter was MY son— i deserved a right to him.”

“Steve,” Tony cut through the blonde’s rant, making him pause for a second. “I must’ve i misheard you because you did not just say what i thought you said— what the hell are you on about?”

Surely the man was lying? This could not be true. Tony had always assumed Peter’s biological father had been some random soldier that Peggy had met and dated, probably dying during the War resulting in the birth of a child and no father there to support either mother or son. When Tony had first found out about Peggy’s missing son all those years ago in 2005, he’d always seen Peter as Peggy’s son— never for once stopping to think who the father could’ve been.

Tony himself could understand what an absentee father could be like. In more ways than one, Tony often viewed himself as simply Maria’s child, ignoring Howard’s role in his life (if he’d even ever had one).

Either way, from the second Tony had laid eyes on that little stowaway child, tiny and chubby at just 4 years old, Peter had been Tony’s son. The kid had weaselled his way into Tony’s heart and no for one-second had Tony spent a second to consider the possibilities of Peter’s biological father.

Until now.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Steve rolled his eyes, the anger still radiating off him. Tony was pretty sure he could feel the heat of his boyfriend’s anger on his skin. “As if you adopted my son without knowing the truth about him. I briefly dated Peggy 67 years ago; i didn’t even know she’d gotten pregnant until i woke up from the ice and Fury lied to me about my child.

He said my son was abducted and never found— except Peter had been found and he’d somehow gotten into your hands. How did that even happen?” Steve spat, frowning at Tony for a second before continuing to pace. “So stop lying to me; i’m sick and tired of people thinking i can’t handle the truth. Peter was my child Tony— i don’t care about whatever adoption papers you signed said.”

“Peter was mine—“

“NO HE WAS MY SON!” Steve suddenly yelled, face going red as he started to pant. The anger was coursing through his veins, glaring daggers at Tony who took a step back from shock. “And you and everyone else lied to me! My own child was right in front of my eyes and you never said a word!”

“I didn’t know Steve— i still can’t even believe what you’re saying! This is crazy!”

“You hid Peter from me,” Steve ignored everything Tony said, letting his anger take control of his mouth. “Was it because you didn’t want to share him?”

“Why would i fear sharing him when i didn’t even know i HAD to share him?” Tony narrowed his eyes, his confusion starting to ebb away. Steve was being completely serious and as much as Tony wanted this to be a sick joke, he knew his boyfriend wouldn’t lie about such things on today of all days. Steve wasn’t cruel enough to pull this sort of prank on the day Tony buried his 11 year old son’s body.

“You don’t even understand what it’s like,” Steve shook his head. It was clear that everything Tony said went straight through his head as he continued on his rant, letting his grief and anger do all the talking. “You don’t get what it’s like to lose a child you never even properly had. I thought Peter was dead months ago when Fury lied and said my kidnapped son had never been found. And then i get a sliver of hope that my child has been found and he’s alive only for it to get snatched away almost immediately.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, taking a step closer to Steve as he felt a burst of anger burn through his stomach. For the past few days all Tony had been able to feel had been a constant numbness so it was strange to suddenly feel so many emotions. He still didn’t truly understand or believe everything Steve was saying but he couldn’t help but feel angry at what he could wrap his head around.

“I don’t get what it’s like?” Tony spat, feeling his fingers start to shake as he grew angrier. “You think i don’t understand how you’re feeling? Whatever your connection to Peter—which i still can’t properly understand— he was still MY son. I was the one who raised him since he was 4 years old. I was there for every nightmare and broken bone and when he threw his guts up at 3am after Rhodey let him eat too much candy the day before. I was the one who signed my name on Peter’s adoption certificate and i was the one who he called Dad.

I didn’t want kids— why the hell would i when my own old man was such a terrible influence? For years i believed that i would forever live in Howard’s shadow of shitty parenting and that i would never be cut out for the domestic lifestyle. But then Peter barged into my life— literally. He snuck aboard my jet and into my heart and he taught me how to be a better man and a pretty damn good Dad.

I don’t understand everything what you’re going through, sure, how could i possibly? I was never frozen for almost 70 years, waking up in a time so different from what i knew. I never found out the woman i dated back in the 40s had gotten pregnant and conceived my child or said child had been kidnapped.

But don’t say i don’t understand what it’s like to lose a child because no matter what the fuck happened between you and my Godmother and whether or not you really did father Peter 66 years ago, that kid was my son. Peter’s was my son— biologically or not. And now i have to go and bury my child, something i never thought i would have to do because it’s so goddamn unfair and cruel. I don’t care if he was born in 1947, he was only 11 years old and i should not be standing in a black tuxedo right now without him by my side.”

The two men glared at each other for a few seconds, neither daring to speak. Steve was reeling from Tony’s speech, trying to determine whether or not Tony had actually known the truth or not. And Tony was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his boyfriend had fathered his son (which sounded weird to say in his head).

Perhaps if the grief of losing Peter wasn’t so fresh and raw, Tony would’ve reacted differently. But right now, standing in a black suit as Peter’s casket waited downstairs, all he could feel was defeat. No matter what the truth was about Tony, Steve and Peter . . . neither of them could possibly win from this situation when the prize they both wanted was forever out of their reach.

A light knock on the door was enough to bring both Tony and Steve out of their stare off. “Tony?” Pepper’s light voice sounded through the door. She took a second to clear her throat, no doubt her voice sounding all scratchy because she’d been crying downstairs. “The service is going to start soon.”

Tony could feel the anger in his body deflate in seconds. Like air getting pushed out, his shoulders sagged as defeat crushed him once more. The second of living in an emotion other than grief went away and Tony was once again brought back to the crippling pain he was sure would never properly leave now that Peter was gone.

“I’m coming,” he called back, stepping around Steve to the door. He could almost imagine Pepper on the other side of the door, her hair tied up into a neat ponytail or bun and dressed in a black dress that fit her body perfectly. Her eyes would be red-rimmed and there would be a look of complete devastation on her face. That was how she’d looked when Tony had managed to tell her about Peter’s sudden passing and that was how she’d looked every day since when she’d been coming up to try and comfort her boss.

“Obviously you’re welcome to attend the service,” Tony cleared his throat, his back to Steve as his hand touched the doorknob. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Leaving Steve after their first proper fight, both emotions running high as the pain of Peter coursed through the both of them raw and strong, felt weird to Tony but he pushed that thought out of his mind as he left his bedroom to join the others downstairs.

He was already suffering enough heartache without adding Steve into the mix.

Chapter Text

Tony’s eyes burned as they flitted across the screen. He was sure they must be red and bloodshot by now; considering he’d been sitting in the same chair in his lab for several hours, eyes glued to the screen in front of him as home videos of Peter played on repeat. Tony had always prided himself on not being nostalgic or sentimental but when it came to Peter, he was glad that didn’t apply.

On the screen, Peter was 5 years old with chubby cheeks and a beaming smile. His brown hair was pushed back and there was a standard party hat strapped to his head. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Peter, happy birthday to you . . .” The people on the audio cheered and sang as a cake appeared on the screen.

5 year old Peter sucked in a big breath, his cheeks puffing out to make him look like a chipmunk, before releasing it all on the candles glowing brightly on the cake. Tony of the present squeezed his eyes tightly, letting the audio fill his brain as he desperately tried to hold in a sob.

“What did you wish for, kiddo?” Tony of the past spoke through the video, crouching down beside little Peter with one arm wrapped around the kid’s shoulder. He could remember Peter’s first birthday with him perfectly: Tony had been nervous for weeks, wanting to make the day special but also not go too overboard considering Pete had always been the more shy type. In the end, he’d settled on a Star Wars themed party hosted at Peggy’s house in England. Bunting had lined the elder woman’s home with lightsaber toys strewed around and the cake designed to look like the Death Star.

Peter had loved it.

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true!” Little Peter’s voice was higher than Tony remembered, the childlike tones hitting him right in his heart. He could almost hear Peter’s voice in his mind the first time he’d ever spoken to him in SHIELD’s HQ in DC. Peter sounded so different to the 11 year old Tony had seen and spoken to only a few days ago.

It broke his heart that he would never be able to hear what Peter’s voice sounded like post-puberty.

“JARVIS,” Tony opened his eyes, watching as Peter’s 5th birthday came to a close. “Play the next video, please.”

“Sir, you have been down here for 10 hours straight; i suggest getting some sleep and a possible snack.” The AI sounded concerned and Tony couldn’t even blame him, he probably did look like a mess right now.

“You know what?” Tony stood up from the chair, stretching out his back with a grunt. “I think you’re right— not about the sleep or snack but i’ve been down here a while: i could do with some coffee.” He could tell he was annoying his AI (if JARVIS could even feel such an emotion) but Tony didn’t care.

He managed to make it upstairs and to the kitchen without running into any of the other occupants of the Tower, surprisingly. Considering at least 5 other people lived there, he thought it was a good feat. In fact, not seeing anyone worked in Tony’s favour since he’d been actively avoiding everyone ever since Peter’s funeral 10 hours before. After his fight with Steve and getting slapped with information he didn’t want or need, coupled with seeing his son’s closed casket get lowered into the ground, Tony had decided he needed some time away from people. Especially from Steve.

He’d holed up in his lab for what felt like an eternity, his mind trying to make sense of the fact that a) the child he’d been raising was fathered by Captain America himself (now that Tony thought about it, he could see some of the clear resemblances between Peter and Steve— like Peter’s chin, that was 100% Steve’s) and b) said child was now 6 feet under. Both facts still tore him up and stole his breath away.

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice broke through the silence just as the man was lifting his freshly-brewed coffee up to his lips. “You’re out of the lab.”

“Observant,” Tony nodded as he swallowed the coffee; it was burning hot but he liked the way his tongue sizzled and the hot beverage made his throat hurt. Pepper was still dressed in her funeral attire, except her dress was now wrinkled and her hair resembled more of a birds nest than her formal bun. Her eyes were still red-rimmed. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you have gone home hours ago?”

“You locked yourself down in the lab after the service,” Pepper frowned at him, looking more concerned than anything. “I wanted to check that you were okay.”

“You’ve been here for over 10 hours, waiting to check on me?” Tony turned to her, not knowing whether to feel happy she cared or angry because he didn’t want her to.

“Of course,” Pepper nodded, acting like it was no big deal. “I fell asleep on the sofa a few hours ago. So . . . how are you?”

Tony took another big swig of burning liquid. “How do you think Pep? My kid’s dead.”

Pepper flinched like she’d been hit, her eyes filling up with tears as she nodded. Her hands wrapped around her waist like she was trying to hold herself together. “Sorry, that was a pretty dumb question.”

The billionaire stared at his assistant for a few seconds longer, watching the edges of grief play out on her face. He wasn’t the only one who’d lost Peter: Pepper had lost a child she saw as her nephew, too. The kid who used to yell “Aunt Pepper!” whenever she entered the room and begged her to take him to the zoo instead of working was gone. Tony wondered if Pepper fell asleep to dreams of little Peter pulling on her hand and giving her sloppy kisses on the cheek.

“Shit,” Tony ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry Pep that was harsh. I’m doing pretty badly as you can tell, how about you?”

Pepper made a sad face, shrugging her shoulders. “The same as you. You know i’m here for you Tony, right? Not as your assistant but as your friend.”

“Yeah Pep, i know.” Maybe in another life Tony could imagine falling in love with the beautiful Pepper Potts standing in front of him. But right now, all Tony needed was a friend and Pepper filled that spot.

“You know,” Tony cleared his throat. “I never thanked you.”

“For what?”

“For the funeral,” his voice got tighter on the last word but he powered through. “You know, planning it and everything— picking out the casket and the flowers and everything. I know i was . . . indisposed for a little while so it really means a lot that you helped out.”

Pepper frowned, looking at Tony like he’d grown a head. “Tony, i didn’t plan the funeral. I thought you did?”

“Pep, i’ve been in bed for the last several days,” Tony spoke like it was obvious. “I’ve done nothing ever since i came home from the Hospital. All i know is i woke up yesterday to you knocking on the door and telling me Peter’s funeral was taking place soon.”

“That’s because i came over and found people walking around the Tower, placing flowers and making the arrangements for the funeral. I thought it was you who paid for it all.”

“Maybe Rhodey then?” Tony frowned, wondering why his friend never said anything about planning Peter’s funeral.

“Rhodey’s been at the US Army Base for the last few days,” Pepper’s frown grew. “He almost had to quit in order to get authorised leave to attend Peter’s funeral. Which he didn’t even know was happening until i phoned him and asked what time he was getting there. Now i think of it . . . hardly any people showed up. I just thought i must’ve missed them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, were people even invited? The Parkers weren’t there, neither was Peggy or any of her extended family. A few school friends came but that was about it.”

“Shit,” Tony sighed, placing his head in his hands for a few seconds. “Aunt Peggy . . . I haven’t even thought of calling her.”

“Tony . . .” Pepper carried on, sounding slightly anxious now. “Did people even know Peter’s funeral was happening yesterday?”

“Pep, i didn’t even know Peter’s funeral was happening yesterday,” Tony shook his head, worry blossoming in his chest. “Who the hell organised that funeral?”

“It definitely wasn’t me,” Pepper shook her head.

Like a light being switched on, Tony startled. What had that nurse in he Hospital said? ‘We’ll handle everything’? Did that mean the funeral and cost etc too? The worry grew as Tony rushed from the kitchen and back down to his lab, ignoring Pepper’s shouts to slow down.

“JARVIS, look alive!” Tony yelled the second he stepped foot in his lab. “I want the security footage of the Hospital on the day Peter died. Fast forward to when i was there. Search everyone who goes in and out of Peter’s room for facial recognition.”

“Naturally, sir,” JARVIS agreed as the screen in front suddenly showed a bunch of code as he attempted to hack into the Hospital’s security footage. Tony couldn’t help but drum his fingers on the desk as he waited for his AI to do as instructed.

Anxiety was building up in him as he mentally ticked off the people who could’ve planned Peter’s funeral: Rhodey and Pepper were out, Happy wasn’t organised enough to have done it all himself, Natasha, as much as she was a great Aunt to Peter, would’ve left the work to a professional; Clint was a definite no, Thor wasn’t even on this world right now, Steve had still been in England and Bruce wouldn’t have remained calm enough to have done such a job without Hulking out once.

And Tony definitely hadn’t done it.

“Sir,” JARVIS’ voice cut through Tony’s mental panic. “I have found an anomaly.”

“What?” Tony could feel his heart beginning to race as he turned his head to the screen where the AI had paused the security footage to the exact moment Peter’s lifeless body had been wheeled out of the Hospital room Tony himself had cried in. A man with harsh features and thin lips was glaring down at the kid’s body as he wheeled the bed away. “Whose that, J?”

“Facial recognition identifies the man as Professor Egor Petrov, a former Russian Scientist imprisoned due to connections to several terrorist groups such as the KGB and HYDRA.”

“And what the hell is he doing wheeling my kid away?” Tony couldn’t believe what he was hearing. HYDRA? From stories Natasha and Steve had told him, HYDRA was definitely a group of people who caused a lot of damage.

“I’m not sure Sir: there is no record of him on the Hospital’s system for employees. It appears he doesn’t work there.”

“Then why is he dressed like a nurse?” Tony frowned at the screen, taking a closer look at the scrubs the skinny man was dressed in.

“I have no information for how to answer that, Sir,” JARVIS sounded sad, unable to help.

Realisation dawned in Tony’s stomach, bubbling up until he almost threw up. Something wasn’t right here. Why was someone who once had ties to HYDRA wheeling his child’s body away? The man had clearly snuck into the Hospital and posed as a nurse in order to get to Peter. Tony couldn’t help but feel like shit; he’d literally sat there and watched as this man took his son’s body away. Why hadn’t he been able to tell something wasn’t right? How could he have let this man take Peter?

Tony was running before he could even stop to think about what he was doing. The Tower was silent as he rushed through the halls, purposely choosing routes to the garden that meant he would avoid Pepper. All Tony could feel was the increased sense of alarm as his heart hammered in his chest and his hands shook with anxiety.

The second he stepped outside a rush of cold air hit his face. The breeze was icy and bitter, biting at his skin but Tony didn’t care. Darkness clouded the garden but Tony could see the slightly raised area of earth where they’d all crowded around yesterday, crying and saying their goodbyes. A shiver ran down his spine but Tony didn’t hesitate long enough to question what he was about to do. It was sick, he knew that, but the nagging need to know the truth was eating him up.

Tony’s hands wrapped around a shovel, the wooden handle feeling stiff and cold to the touch. He squeezed it so hard his knuckles went white and splinters embedded in his skin. Each time the shovel found its way onto the neatly piled earth, it was like the dirt was getting thrown onto Tony’s heart, weighing him down. He wasn’t sure how long it took but by the time the casket was finally visible, the sun was peaking through the crowds and sweat was dripping down from Tony’s brow.

With Peter’s white casket in sight, remnants of dirt scattered across it and roses littered around, Tony suddenly wondered if maybe he was losing his mind. Maybe this was just a horrible grief-induced hallucination and Tony was suffering a severe mental breakdown. Maybe he would open this casket and all he’d see would be the perfect yet still face of a 11 year old he loved more than anything.

Tony wasn’t sure what would be better or worse: to see Peter resting peacefully in his casket almost like he was sleeping or something entirely different.

His hands shook and trembled as they reached out to gently grip the metal of the casket. The metal was freezing, making Tony gasp with how his fingers cried out to let go as he gently lifted the lid of the casket open and peered inside.

What he saw was enough to make him fall backwards into the dirt, bile rising up in his throat as the feeling of wanting to cry once again rose to the surface.

The casket was empty.

——————

“LET ME OUT!” Peter screamed, his voice rising as he screeched. “LET ME OUT NOW!” His fists banged on the metal door of the tiny room he’d been thrown into a few days ago. The muscles in his arms ached from the relentless banging he’d been doing but that didn’t stop him from repeatedly hitting the door. Echoes of the clanging vibrated around the dark room.

“YOU’RE THE WORST TEACHER IN THE WORLD!” Peter’s voice broke as a sob ripped out his throat, his hand falling down to his side as he gave up. He stumbled back from the door, sinking down to the cold ground as he wrapped his arms around his chest. The floor was concrete and hard, the room’s iciness imbedded into the freezing tiles.

Peter had been here ever since Petrov had driven him away from the Hospital. He wasn’t sure how long the drive had been but by the time they’d arrived, all the movement sans his neck had come back. Peter had kicked and screamed as Petrov had moved his body but there was little he could do to escape when he couldn’t even lift his head. Coupled with the fact that Petrov was far stronger than him and grabbed his wildly kicking feet and cuffed them to the bed.

All Peter had known since then was this dim room with one swinging lightbulb without a shade and the concrete floor. There was no bed or windows; for all purposes, it was just a dungeon. The only thing Peter had was an almost brown toilet and a disgusting smell in the air.

Deja vu surrounded him as he looked around the gross and cold room. It was like he recognised it from a far-away dream that he couldn’t quite remember.

“Please let me out,” he sobbed quietly, running his hand over his nose as tears rolled down his cheeks. The days in here felt like years and Peter was pretty sure if he stayed any longer, he would most likely freeze to death. His hand felt like a block of ice against his face and his fingers’ movements were stiff.

“Look alive,” someone on the other side of the door hit it with brute force, making a clanging sound rip through Peter’s core. He jumped and sobbed as the small apartment at the bottom of the door opened and a tray of food was pushed through. He knew better than to rush over there and try and plead with whatever guard was standing on the other side. Judging by his failed attempt of begging yesterday, they really didn’t care that it was a child currently locked up.

The food was bearable— meaning it was absolute trash but it was all Peter was given so he had to make do. Stale bread was half thrown into a dirty bowl of ice-cold soup with so many lumps in it that Peter wasn’t even sure what kind of soup it was meant to be. He picked at the bread slowly, ignoring how his stomach growled.

Surely Peter wouldn’t be here much longer, right? His Dad would come find him soon. Tony must know the truth by now and he’d be preparing to come save Peter. The young boy couldn’t do anything but hope.

The sound of the door opening filled Peter with both hope and fear. On one hand, he prayed that it was his Dad whilst on the other hand, he feared it was Petrov again.

“Up and out Mister Stark,” Petrov’s cruel voice sounded from the open doorway as light blinded Peter’s eyes. The man was glaring down at where Peter sat on the floor, looking far more intimidating than Peter ever remembered him to be. “Hurry up boy!”

Fear rippled through Peter’s chest as he stood on shaky legs, rushing over to where Petrov stood. The man gripped Peter by his wrist, hands in a vice grip that squeezed and squeezed no matter how much Peter whined. The bruises he’d already gotten from being dragged in the museum only ached further as Petrov pulled him down the corridor.

Deja vu rolled over Peter as he frowned, looking around the brightly lit concrete corridors, doors lining the walls but no sound coming from them. Peter wondered what was inside them— he wondered if he even really wanted to know.

“Where are you taking me?” Peter tried to remain strong and calm but Petrov was dragging him still and he hated how his voice quivered with anxiety. It was cold down here, goosebumps were lining his arms but there was nothing he could do to warm himself up. Peter had left Monday morning wearing a short sleeved shirt and that was all he had now.

“You’ll see,” Petrov growled, pulling out a set of keys as they finally reached the large, metal door that was clearly their destination. Peter wondered how the man knew which door to go to considering they all looked the same.

The room inside was bright white with a large chamber placed in the middle. Immediately, Peter’s insides started to squirm. He knew what this was. No, no, no, no . . . He could still remember the utter terror he’d felt at 4 years old when he’d placed in that chamber for the first time. It had been cramped, even when he’d been a young child, and the metal had been ice cold.

Peter didn’t want to go back in there ever again. The last time he’d been put in that thing, his mother had ages 55 years without him. Peter didn’t want to wake up to his Dad suddenly being grey and wrinkled at 97 years old— if he even survived to that point.

Tears welled up in Peter’s eyes at the idea of him waking up in the future to his Dad no longer being alive. He’d never even been able to tell him he loved him that final time . . .

“No!” Peter pulled on his arm, trying to break free from Petrov’s grip. “I don’t want to go back in there! No!”

Petrov released a harsh laugh, looking down at Peter with blank eyes. “Did i ask your opinion, boy?”

“No,” Peter tried again, struggling to rip his arm free as Petrov’s hand squeezed tighter and tighter until Peter was sure his wrist was going to snap if he kept pulling any longer.

As much as Peter liked to believe he was tough and brave, he couldn’t help but sob as Petrov’s adult strength overpowered him. The metal fastenings were wrapped around his wrists, holding him inside the chamber, before he could win at fighting back. A chill ran down Peter’s spine as the tears trickled down his chin.

He was never going to see his Mom ever again. He would never see his Dad— or possibly he’d be reunited with an elderly version of the man. He’d never see Steve or the rest of the Avengers again. They all thought he was dead; they’d move on and be happy whilst Peter suffered in this hell.

“Why are you doing this?” His words were choked up as his sobs broke his voice. All of his nightmares were coming true; for months he’d been seeing this very terror unfold and for months he’d run to his Dad afterwards for comfort.

Peter really wished he would wake up soon so he could go back to his Dad.

“I’m completing the job my father started,” Petrov stood in front of Peter, his sharp cheekbones looking gaunt in the harsh, white lighting. The crazed teacher’s thin lips were pressed into a straight line as he hissed the words. “A genius of his time, my father was the man who came up with the revolutionary idea of destruction: there is no greater weapon than using a man’s child against them.”

That caused Peter’s tears to pause for a second. “W-what?” He frowned at his evil teacher, confusion muddling with his brain. The fastenings weren’t that tight as Peter wriggled around in them but he knew he had no chance of escaping when the evil man was standing right in front of him. Petrov didn’t seem worried as he continued to talk.

“His plan was going exceptionally, albeit slowly, until SHIELD broke into the base you were stationed in and destroyed everything my father worked for. When he died last year, i vowed to complete the plan he couldn’t.”

“What has that got to do with me?” Peter sniffled, puffing out a breath of cold air as he spoke. The cloud floated in front of his face for a few seconds before fading into nothing.

“It has everything,” Petrov hissed, stepping closer so he was right in front of Peter’s face. Something comical played across his features. “Oh dear, don’t tell me you don’t know the truth about your parentage, boy?”

“I don’t know what you mean!”

“Your father, boy; you know who he is?”

“My Dad is called Tony Stark— you know this! You keep calling me Mister Stark!”

Petrov rolled his eyes, “Your biological father, boy!”

Peter frowned, shaking his head. “I-i don’t know who he is. It was just me and Mom— Dad’s the only Dad i’ve ever had.”

The young boy hated how Petrov suddenly smirked, looking gleeful. “Your biological father is the reason you are here.”

Peter’s frown grew as he watched his teacher with weary eyes. “So what you said about the greatest weapon being to use a man’s child against them . . . you meant me? That makes no sense, i don’t even know who he is!”

“For a smart boy, you can be exceptionally dumb,” Petrov sighed, his thin lips twisting up into a crooked smile. “You’ve been living with the man, boy!”

“What?” Peter knew for a fact that that wasn’t true. He’s only ever lived with his Dad and he knew Tony couldn’t be his biological father considering he hadn’t even been born when Peter was conceived. The only other people he knew from his post-kidnapping days were Happy and Uncle Rhodey but Peter had never lived with them. That only left the Avenger but all of them were either younger than his Dad, making them ineligible, or a God.

Except . . .

Steve. Peter sucked in a deep breath as he thought about Captain America; the man who’d saved his life from Aliens the first time they’d ever met and ran him to a Hospital when he’d had an allergic reaction. The man who was now dating his Dad and always made Peter feel safe and happy when they hung out.

Steve had been born in 1918. He’d known Peter’s mother (even being close enough to go visit her in Hospital in England). He would’ve still been alive at the time of Peter’s conception even if he hadn’t of made it to Peter’s actual birth.

Surely, no— right? Peter couldn’t be Steve Rogers’ son? That was impossible. . . Right?

Petrov cackled as realisation dawned on the 11 year old’s face. “Oh so now you finally understand? Yes, you boy were fathered by the great Captain America. America’s Golden Boy! My father lost everything to your father, the scales of the War were tipped towards the Allies because of what Good Old Cap did. So when my father found out that precious Peggy Carter had birthed a boy no doubt fathered by Rogers, he took it into his own hands to destroy Captain America once and for all.”
“So the plan was to kidnap me, freeze me for several decades and then . . . what?” Peter couldn’t understand, his mind was still reeling from the news. Steve was his father? His Mom had dated Steve? For some reason it made the most sense whilst sounding completely crazy.

“The plan was to unfreeze you once Captain America had been found,” Petrov droned on, sounding more and more bitter as he went. “We’d train you up into a killing assassin the second you were unfrozen and then Golden Boy Cap’s blood would’ve been spilt by your hands.”

“All those years ago . . . your father was the one who kidnapped me?” It felt like he’d been punched in the gut as Peter stared into the hollow eyes of Petrov.

“Genius, correct?” Petrov smirked.

Anger coursed through Peter’s blood. It was hot and heavy as it filled him up, making his vision go red. “He took my Mom from me! For 55 years she lived in constant agony and pain not knowing where i was! He destroyed her life!”

“Collateral damage,” Petrov shrugged. “Now sit back and behave like a good boy so the cyro chamber can work its magic,” He stepped back to where the control panel was, fiddling with it for a second before waiting for it to start up.

“Whats the point of this?” Peter frowned. “Steve’s awake now— you don’t need to freeze me for another 55 years!” He wiggled his hands in the metal fastenings, eyeing the door. Peter knew if he snuck out of the machine now, he’d have no hope of getting through the door before Petrov could grab him.

“Ah,” Petrov nodded with fake care. “You won’t be frozen for another 55 years, boy; all i’ll need is 6 months. I’m hoping to add in some . . . extra ingredients to help with the process.”

Fear gripped Peter’s gut. “What do you mean?”

Petrov waved a hand nonchalantly. “Just some added chemicals to help remove the last 7 years from your memory— to make you as good as new.”

“You’re going to brainwash me?” Peter screamed, feeling his throat close up as the panic held him in a vice grip. He didn’t want to forget his Dad or his Mom or Ned. He didn’t want to wake up in 6 months with no memory of everything that had happened in the last 7 years. He didn’t want to forget playing with his Uncle Rhodey when he’d been 4 or his Dad teaching him how to ride a bike or Aunt Pepper thrashing him as Monopoly or talking about Star Wars with Ned. He didn’t want to forget his Auntie Nat as she taught him ‘spy moves’ or never sit around and paint pictures with Steve (who Peter still couldn’t truly believe was his father) ever again.

Peter would rather die than have those memories ripped from him.

“Don’t fret, boy, it doesn’t hurt—“ Petrov was cut off by the sound of the door opening as a man dressed in a green uniform and red hat stepped into the room. His posture was stiff and judging by the glare he sent Petrov’s way, he wasn’t pleased.

“The General wants to speak to you,” the new stranger informed Peter’s crazy teacher.

“I’ll be there in a second,” Petrov seemed unfazed as he continued to fiddle with the control panel, setting it up for Peter’s freezing and brainwashing.

“The General wants to speak to you now.”

Petrov glared at the stranger for a second before releasing a withering sigh; it seemed even he knew when enough was enough. “I suppose i’ll just have to freeze you faster than anticipated,” Petrov’s finger hovered above the button.

“Wait!” Peter yelled, his voice breaking. “After all this and you aren’t even going to see this to the end? At least give me a few minutes to prepare for my entire life and memories to be wiped from my mind. You don’t even want to see me freeze? This was your father’s legacy.” He’d spent enough time around his Dad to know that sometimes smart talking was the only way to get out of things.

“I do suppose seeing your face turn blue would be satisfaction for my father’s memory,” Petrov seemed to ponder the thought. “We’ll resume this when i return, boy.”

Peter couldn’t believe it was that easy as he watched Petrov turn and walk out the room, followed by the stiff stranger who sent Peter a glare before leaving. Like a weight lifted from his shoulders, Peter couldn’t help but feel relieved. It was obvious Petrov thought the fastenings had been tight enough to hold him, Peter thought as he pulled his wrists out (it was in that moment he was grateful to be so skinny).

Hopping out of the chamber, Peter crept towards the door. Then paused. He had no idea where he was or how to get out of this seemingly underground bunker. If he left through the door, there was a high chance someone would spot him and he’d end up right back here.

Panic was circling through Peter’s mind, the constant worry that Petrov would come back running around in his head when he finally spotted it.

A vent.

Perfectly small enough for his skinny frame and not too high up that it was unreachable. Peter wasted no time in dragging one of the metal chairs across the room (ignoring the stained blood on the seat) as he used it to peer upwards at the vent. His heart was hammering in his chest as he noticed there were screws holding it in place.

Peter was about to admit defeat when the idea of using something to twist the screws popped into his head. He’d spent enough time with his Dad working down in the labs to know how to quickly unscrew something by now.

A blood stained knife turned out to be the perfect object Peter could use. He pressed the blade to fit into the screw and twisted it round and round and round. When the first screw popped out, Peter turned to the next one and the one after that. By the time the last screw had popped out and the vent was finally free, Peter wasn’t sure how much time had passed but he knew he didn’t have that long left.

It took all of his strength to jump up and pull himself into the vent. His arms wobbled and the muscles ached but Peter couldn’t afford to take a break. The entire time he was trying to pull himself up, he couldn’t help but feel anxiety that someone would grab his legs and pull him out. He knew if that happened then it was game over.

After what seemed like ages, Peter was finally inside the vent. The metal was cool against his skin, his back pressing to the top and he used the palms of his hands to pull him across. In all honesty, Peter had no plan. He had no idea where he was meant to go or if they would hear him crawling around in the vents or even if this plan would work. For all he knew, this could’ve been the dumbest idea he’d ever had.

But Peter would rather die trying to escape then stay and wait for Petrov to use him as a weapon against his family.

He’d been crawling around for what seemed like hours (but had really only been 10 minutes) when Peter looked down through some holes in a vent and saw a room just like the one he’d escaped from. All the other times he’d looked down through the vent holes he’d seen corridor after corridor but not this time. The room wasn’t white like Peter’s, this time it was grey and dark but there was no mistaking the chamber in the room.

Peter’s eyes widen with fear as he realised there was actually a person in that chamber.

He wasn’t sure if doing what he was about to do was heroic or dumb but Peter didn’t waste any time in pushing out the vent and dropping down to the floor. He landed with a loud thud and a cry, his ankle feeling sore as he landed but Peter tried to walk it off.

Just like he’d suspected, the person inside the chamber was frozen, their face looking mixed between peaceful and confused. The man in question looked a lot older than Peter, definitely already in his 30s, with long brown hair that fell around his face and slight stubble on his chin. He looked familiar but Peter couldn’t place him.

He wondered how long this man had been frozen for. Had it been 55 years or just a few weeks?

“No way,” Peter whispered to himself as he stepped closer. His eyes widened with shock as he spotted the heavy-looking metal arm attached to the man’s left shoulder. It looked so cool; Peter couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to have a metal arm. Was this guy ridiculously strong because of it? Would he be able to help Peter in escaping?

In the end, Peter’s decision was made for him as flashing red lights suddenly filled the room and echoed from outside the door, down the corridor.

“They must know i’m free,” he muttered as he ran over to the control panel, looking over the buttons for a second. Panic rushed up inside him as he slapped as many as he could, praying this guy would wake up and actually help him. If not, then Peter was screwed.

A hiss sounded from the direction of the chamber, the doors opening as a puff of cold air escaped. The man pressed inside took in a shaky breath the second the doors were open but he kept his eyes closed, just laying there as he took slow, steady breaths.

Peter swallowed hard, anxiety coursing up through him as he took a step forward. His wrung his hands, biting down at his lip. Please be nice, he begged.

“H-hello?”

The man’s eyes opened suddenly, wide and (for a second) full of fear. They looked bloodshot and miserable as they scanned the room, lowering down to land on Peter’s shaking frame. Confusion crossed this man’s features as he took in the 11 year old boy.

And then it hit Peter. He knew who this man was. He remembered Steve’s stories and the small picture he’d given Peter showing the both of them: Steve and his best friend. A man that Steve had mourned and loved in a way Peter loved Ned (and maybe even more than that).

“Bucky?” Peter tried the word out, searching the man’s face for recognition. He knew it was definitely the same guy, he’d stared at Steve’s picture long enough to recognise the facial features and shape of his eyes. That picture had been Peter’s favourite: the way Steve looked so happy despite the War going on and the best friend by his side, smiling at Steve like nothing else mattered.

That picture had filled Peter with hope.

The man, Bucky, frowned heavily. His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued to stare at Peter with utter confusion and distrust.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

Chapter Text

The blaring alarm seemed to get increasingly louder with each passing second that Peter stood staring into Bucky’s passive face. Red was glowing around the room as the alarm blared, causing the hairs on Peter’s arm to rise up with dread.

“Bucky,” Peter wrapped his arms around his chest as he tried to swallow down his desire to cry. He felt as if the chance to escape was just at the tip of his finger, quickly getting further and further out of reach. All Peter wanted to do was go home but he couldn’t get there without some help.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he took in Peter’s skinny frame, stepping forward in a menacing way. Peter bit his lip but didn’t take a step back— he didn’t know Bucky personally but he’d been told enough stories by Steve to know that the man wasn’t evil in any way.

It was like a lightbulb flicking on in Peter’s head: Steve! Bucky had clearly been frozen for a while and brainwashed on top of that but maybe mentioning Steve would help clear things up. Peter liked to believe the love of friendship was stronger than whatever evil forces run this hell-hole.

“M-my name is Peter,” he swallowed heavily, trying to ignore the loud alarm and the way Bucky’s metal arm glinted red in the light. “I need your help! You’ve never met me but you used to be friends with my biological father!”

Just saying that made Peter want to sit down for a good few minutes. He still wasn’t over the fact that Steve was really (or at least allegedly) Peter’s biological father. It just seemed so insane considering they’d been friends (and Steve had been dating his Dad) for the past few months. And— gross— it meant Steve had dated his Mom.

“My biological father is Steve Rogers!”

The words were rushed and Peter stumbled over Steve’s name but the second they were out there, Bucky’s body went rigid. Recognition flashed across the elder man’s face, his eyes shining for a simple second. Peter took a step back as Bucky frowned ever so slightly, doing his best to ease the stomachache brewing in his gut. Butterflies were now attacking his insides as Peter’s mind screamed that time was running out.

If this didn’t work— if Bucky didn’t help— Peter was as good as dead.

It was just as Peter was starting to loose all hope, the urge to cry was building up and he could feel his toes start to curl at the thought of being face to face with Petrov again when Bucky spoke. His voice was slightly muffled and his eyes seemed frantic, like he was recovering from extreme disorientation.

“Steve?” Bucky whispered, looking at Peter like he was seeing him for the first time. “Steve. . . Is your father?”

Peter swallowed hard and nodded. “Y-yeah! And these bad guys took me from him— please Bucky, you need to help me get home.” He hated how desperate and whiny he sounded (Dad always said beggars can’t be choosers but Peter elected to ignore that for now).

Bucky glanced around the vacant room, taking in the red flashing lights and unhygienic torture equipment littered around. Slight understanding seemed to dawn on him as he looked back at Peter. “I remember Steve.”

Hope bloomed in Peter’s chest. That was all he needed.

“Please help me,” tears started to roll down Peter’s cheeks but he angrily brushed them away. He wasn’t sure if he was crying because the fear of being caught was still looming over his shoulder or because Bucky had regained enough memories to know that Peter wasn’t his enemy.

Bucky frowned again, looking extremely close to saying no before he jerked his head up and down in one stiff motion. “I don’t know where we are or what is going on.” His voice lowered, going back to the dark harshness from earlier. “And you’ll have to do as i say: if i say run, you run; if i say duck, you duck.”

“Do as you say, i got that.” Peter nodded quickly.

“If i say leave me, you leave— you hear me? No sacrificial bullshit like your old man.”

Peter paused for a second. That was the first time he’d ever heard someone other than Petrov and himself refer to Steve as his father. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was meant to feel.

“But—

“No,” Bucky growled, looking suddenly scary. “If i say leave me, you leave. Understand?”

“O-okay,” Peter sucked in a breath and nodded. He wanted to argue the point; he wanted to tell Bucky that he’d only known him for under 10 minutes but if the opportunity arose and Peter was left with the decision about saving himself or Bucky, Peter didn’t want to choose the selfish option. But he could also tell that Bucky was in no mind to argue right now— all Peter could do was hope that opportunity never arose.

“We need weapons,” Bucky growled, moving around the spacious room as he looked for something to defend himself and Peter with.

A lump formed in Peter’s throat. “W-weapons?” He wasn’t naive, he knew that there was no way they would get out of this dungeon by just walking through the front door. He knew that sometimes there was no other choice than the one presented to them— but that didn’t mean he liked the idea. “Are we going to k-kill people?”

Bucky gave him a cautious glance when his search for weapons became fruitless. “You aren’t, kid.”

Peter took in a deep breath, trying to steel himself for the violence they no doubt were going to witness. The nasty guys that Petrov worked for wouldn’t pull their punches and Peter doubted that Bucky would either. That didn’t mean he liked it though.

“Wait here,” Bucky hissed at Peter as he walked towards the large metal door. It was locked but with Bucky’s metal arm and additional strength, the door locks came off easily with a few pulls.

“Where are you going?” Peter’s eyes were wide as he watched Bucky open the door. The sound of the alarm increased until it was almost deafening.

“Wait. Here.” Bucky didn’t reply as he closed the door behind him. Peter debated about if he should follow Bucky or do as he was told, the anxiety brewing in his gut was telling him the complete opposite of what his mind said to do. It was just as Peter was about to throw all caution to the wind and follow Bucky outside to the corridor when the door opened once again.

For a second Peter thought it was Petrov or one of the nasty men roaming the corridors. His panic subsided when he realised it was just Bucky coming back in. There was something dark in his eyes and Peter tried to ignore the red stain on his right sleeve, just below his flesh hand. A heavy gun was held in his metal hand, with a smaller gun now shoved in his back pocket.

“There are guards roaming the corridors kid, we don’t have a large window in order to escape. You need to stick close by me and be quiet.” The words were hissed and quiet, making the anxiety in Peter’s stomach grow double.

“Okay,” he took in a deep breath just as Bucky once again opened the heavy, metal door and poked his head out to check the corridor. When the coast was clear, Bucky quietly moved out, signalling for Peter to follow.

Outside, in the corridor, Peter felt like he was living in a nightmare. Red was glowing across the concrete and the blaring alarm sounded more like a death march at this point. Peter’s ears were ringing and as he stuck to Bucky’s side, he wished nothing more than for him to wake up and realise this had just been one sick dream.

“Hide,” Bucky hissed, pushing Peter back against the wall. They were just about to turn the corridor when the soldier had spotted a few HYDRA agents roaming up ahead. “Stay here and close your eyes. Cover your ears too.”

Peter bit his lip, trying to quell the need to cry as he squeezed his eyes tight and placed his hands over his ears. Even muffled, the sound of gunshots were enough to make him flinch. There were only two shots, followed by two muffled cries . . . and then silence.

Bucky’s hand appeared on Peter’s shoulder, making him flinch as his eyes flashed open. Fear disappeared when he realised that it was still just Bucky— the man was doing all of this just to help Peter but he couldn’t help but feel queasy over it all.

“Keep your eyes up, okay kid?” Bucky instructed as they continued moving. Peter stared up at the ceiling as they turned the corner and kept moving, trying to keep his breathing steady as he followed the elder man. He sucked in a deep breath, doing his best not to pass out when his foot nudged something fleshy laying on the floor. There was red on his boots, leaving faint footstep marks as they went that made Peter feel as if he would be sick.

“Have you known Steve— my father— all your life?” Peter tried to distract himself from the constant dread and the way his boots made soft squidgy sounds as he moved.

“From childhood to now, yeah,” Bucky kept his eyes forward and gun raised as he humoured Peter by answering. His face remained cold, focused on the mission at hand.

“What was he like? When he was younger?” Having grown up with a father, albeit adopted, Peter had never dwelled too long on who his biological father had been. Perhaps if he’d never been kidnapped and he’d only ever been raised by his Mom he would’ve been curious but Peter had never felt the same urge that others felt to find out where he came from when he had his Dad by his side.

They never spoke about Peter’s biological parents much, especially since his Mom’s diagnosis. It just seemed too painful to dwell on the past and all the things that had been stolen from him. But now that the can of worms had been opened and Peter knew who his biological father was, the curiosity to know more finally flowed through.

“He was a little shit,” a small smirk crept up Bucky’s face despite his earlier stony expression. “I can already tell you’re just like him.”

That was strange to Peter; for the last 7 years people had always said he was a lot like his Dad— meaning Tony, not Steve. Peter could see the similarities that Bucky was clearly seeing though: the stubbornness and unwillingness to leave people behind.

“Do you miss him?” Peter wasn’t sure why he asked. Maybe it was because he knew Steve had missed Bucky, all the stories he’d been told had ended with Steve appearing melancholic.

“Everyday when i wake up,” Bucky nodded.

Peter wondered if this was going to be his future if they didn’t get out of this hell-hole soon enough. Would he become Petrov’s spawn, waking up only when and if the man wants him to and being forced to do terrible things to people who don’t deserve it? Would he wake up every couple of years, miss his Dad each second he was awake and then go back into the chamber like it didn’t even matter that he had a Dad out there to miss?

“He missed you too,” Peter glanced at Bucky quick enough to see his features twist into pain before going back to his normal, passive expression.

“Does he— uh— talk about me much?” Bucky repositioned his gun, acting very similarly to the way Peter normally acted when he tried to remain casual around Michele.

“Sometimes,” Peter shrugged, glad that his mind was wondering from the alarm and red lights even if it was just for a second. “But he normally gets sad afterwards so i don’t really ask him much.” He wonders if he should tell Bucky the truth that he only found out Steve was his biological father that very day or that in truth, he’d always just thought Steve was his Dad’s new boyfriend. But the second he goes to say the word, Peter clamps his mouth closed.

“I’m guessing your Mother is Peggy Carter?” Bucky glanced at Peter quickly before redirecting his eyes back to the corridor up ahead. “They did seem awfully chummy.”

Peter frowned at the word ‘chummy’ because . . . ew.

“You look like her,” Bucky noted, nodding to himself. “But you have Steve’s heart.” Peter wondered how it was so obvious when the man had known him for less than an hour and Peter himself hadn’t even known about his relation to Steve.

“Is that a good thing?”

Bucky paused. “There are a lot of bad things in this world, as i’m guessing you are currently aware. But Steve’s heart isn’t one of those things.”

Peter took in his words, thinking back to when Steve had saved him from aliens. And when he’d run him to the hospital when he’d had his allergic reaction. Steve had always been nice to Peter, even before he knew about them being father and son. Peter was suddenly proud to be related to the man.

Despite the situation, Peter let a smile cross his face. They were furthering away from the main part of the base now, with the loud alarm becoming increasingly more distant. It was helping to cease Peter’s anxiety— maybe they would actually get out of this mess.

“I guess in a different life you would’ve been Uncle Bucky, eh?” Peter teased lightly. He didn’t mention that it would be a completely different life: one whee Bucky had never supposedly died and one where Peter hadn’t been kidnapped and possibly, one where Steve hadn’t crashed his ship in the Artic.

A tiny laugh escaped Bucky’s lip, once again changing his entire stoic expression. “I guess so.”

“I think you would’ve been a cool Uncle,” Peter smirked. Maybe not as cool as Uncle Rhodey (Peter doubted many people were) but cool nonetheless. Where Uncle Rhodey was fun in a more sensible, makes-fun-of-Dad way, Bucky seemed like the more careless fun type with no regard for responsibilities.

“I’m sure you must be a handful for your father,” Bucky chuckled. “I can just imagine Stevie trying to wrangle you.”

Peter remained quiet, looking off to the side.

“He always wanted a kid,” Bucky mused, talking more to himself now. “He never properly admitted it but i knew the truth. See, your grandfather died before your father was even born. And your grandmother . . . she died when your father was 18. I was all he ever had for a little while and i think the urge to have a kid came from that. I’m glad he finally had you.”

Peter wasn’t sure what to say. Steve had never really . . . had him. Tony had, sure, and he’d come from just as absent a family as Steve. It was weird that all Peter had ever known was loving parents (first his Mom, then his Dad and now Steve) when both his father’s had never known that.

He almost felt selfish to have 3 sets of loving, kind people looking out for him when both Steve and Tony had never had that.

“What did they do to you?” Peter decided it was time to change the conversation, not liking how close to home it was for him. He wasn’t sure if it was rude to ask Bucky but the curiosity was eating at him.

“I don’t know,” Bucky’s voice was quiet and Peter could practically hear the pain in it.

“I think your arm is cool.”

“I think it makes me a monster.” His eyes glint with something dangerous but Peter shakes his head at him.

“I don’t think a monster would be helping me right now; the arm doesn’t define who you are.”

“You don’t even know me,” Bucky frowned.

“You don’t know me,” Peter shrugged, unfazed. “But you still drew up your own conclusions; why can’t i do the same?”

“Because you’re a kid— Steve’s kid.”

“And you’re Bucky— Steve’s best friend.”

Bucky looked like he was going to argue but decided against it, shaking his head instead. “You talk a lot.”

“I get that a lot,” Peter chuckled, thinking back to all the times Happy had told him to shut up. It was never coming from a mean place each time his Dad’s friend and driver said it but Peter knew that on some level he managed to drive the older man crazy with his never ending questions and constant babble. Sometimes he did it just to annoy the man.

“There is a communication room up ahead,” Bucky nodded towards a metal door that looked alike to all the others. The joking around from before was wiped from his face as he became more serious. “Once we get in there we can send some kind of message to Steve— and hope for back up.”

Peter was about to reply when shots rung out down the corridor they’d just came. The sound of yelling filled his ears as people screamed in a different language, charging forwards to where Peter and Bucky stood. A bullet grazed passed Peter’s shoulder, imbedding in the wall opposite.

“Time’s up kid,” Bucky growled, raising his gun as he started shooting towards the men coming towards them. Several fell down to the ground with a grunt, blood pouring out of their wounds. “Get inside the room and contact your father; we can’t do this alone!”

“What about you?” Peter screamed, guilt building up as he knew what Bucky was going to say.

“Do as i say!” That was all Peter could hear over the sound of the loud alarm and gunshots being shot back and forth. “I’ll hold them off for as long as i can!”

“I’m not leaving you!” Peter ducked behind Bucky as the mean people kept shooting. More and more of them fell down to the ground, all of their bullets bouncing off Bucky’s metal as he used it to defend himself.

“Now isn’t the time for heroics, kid! I said run, so you run!”

“But—“

“If you want to see your father again, you do as i say,” Bucky yelled over the gun fire.

He hesitated for a second, wanting to argue more but Bucky sent him a death glare that kicked Peter’s legs into motion. Running towards the communication room, Peter tried to pretend this was just another day; he was just running because he could— he wasn’t in any imminent danger. He tried to pretend they were back in Malibu, running under the harsh California sun with no cares in the world.

Peter’s little daydream worked up until a bullet ricocheted off the wall, landing in his left thigh. A scream escaped his lips as he cupped the wound, feeling his blood trickle through his fingers. It didn’t feel lethal but Peter still felt like his leg was on fire as the pain surrounded him.

Closing the door to the communications room behind him, Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he still held. His leg ached as he shuffled over to the massive computer, dragging himself into the chair as he started to rewire the coding so he could send a message off to his Dad.

It was times like now that Peter really appreciated all his Dad had put into teaching him about coding and rewiring technology. He never thought he’d be needing it to such an extent right now but Peter was glad that he did.

The camera placed at the top of the screen flickered on as Peter cleared his throat.

——————

“Tony, i have several PhDs but i’m not equipped to handle grief counselling!” Bruce complained, sounding weary as his friend paced back and forth in the short space between them.

“Stop acting like i’m having some psychological breakdown!” Tony snapped, glaring at Bruce. Ever since he’d discovered the truth about his son and the fact that he wasn’t actually dead (yet— but Tony tried to ignore that), he’d gone straight to the Avengers. He’d been out of breath and red faced as he’d yelled about Peter being alive, only to be rebuked by the team. Natasha’s eyes had glinted like she was trying not to cry, Clint had shaken his head and Steve had just walked out of the room.

That was another issue Tony was trying to ignore. Ever since Peter’s fake funeral, neither Tony nor Steve had spoken since. The anger from what had been said still remained, coupled with the fact that both men had been grieving in two ways that simply couldn’t co-exist.

They all seemed to believe that Tony was becoming delusional. Even Rhodey had tried to talk sense into him, gently reminding Tony that several doctors had tested Peter and all drawn up the same conclusion of heart failure.

But Tony ignored them. He had proof: the security footage and the empty coffin. And the additional weight in his gut that told him his kid was out there somewhere and Tony needed to find him. Soon.

“Then what else do you call this Tony?” Bruce shrugged his shoulders. He was the only one of the Avengers willing to put up with Tony’s ‘delusional’ rants. “For the last day all you’ve been doing is yelling about Peter being alive— despite the fact we all attended his funeral several days ago.”

“I’m not crazy Bruce, you need to see the security footage!”

“I did see it Tony! I saw a nurse wheel Peter away— there isn’t anything barbaric going on here.”

“But Peter’s coffin—“

“Tony, enough,” Bruce sighed heavily, suddenly sounding very tired. Dark bags circled under his eyes and there was a twinge of green growing on his cheeks. “Don’t bring up the coffin again, okay? Steve was ready to have you committed when he found out you dug up Peter’s coffin.”

“It’s empty! Go check for yourself!”

“No, Tony! I’m not going to go open up your son’s coffin! Something tells me i’ll see something differently to you.”

“Bruce,” Tony hated to plead but he was willing to do anything for Peter. If begging his friends to believe him resulted in Peter back home, safe and under his protection, then Tony would get on his knees. “You need to believe me; i’m not going insane.”

“Look, okay, i get it,” Bruce looked sympathetic as he took in Tony’s broken expression. The pair had grown close ever since New York’s Alien Attack, the both of them having worked in the labs together on multiple occasions and being the only Avengers able to keep up with their ‘science talk’. “You lost a child; that’s something no parent should ever have to go through. Peter was a great kid and he deserved the whole world. This delusion may be your way of handling grief but that doesn’t change what it is Tony: a delusion. The team lost Peter too, we lost our nephew and apparently Steve lost his biological son. This is hard for you but it’s hard for us too; we can’t handle your breakdown on top of everything else.”

“This. Isn’t. A. Breakdown—“ Tony seethed, growing increasingly frustrated. After Steve had stormed out the room after discovering Tony had dug up Peter’s grave, Natasha had turned her head away and Bruce had suggested maybe he and Tony go for a chat, Tony had actually believed maybe the other scientist would be believe him.

Apparently not.

“Sir,” JARVIS voice broke through his anger. He was about to tear Bruce a new one when the AI suddenly spoke up. “A video was sent to your phone a little under 10 minutes ago. The source is blocked but i have facial recognition and believe the sender to be Peter.”

Ice ran down Tony’s back. What? Peter sent him a video. Judging by the way Bruce paled, this wasn’t a case of Tony mishearing something. “Why didn’t you tell me about the video earlier, J?”

“It took several minutes to run an accurate facial recognition,” JARVIS cleared up. “Would you like me to play the video?”

“Yes!” Tony yelled, directing his head up at the ceiling even though he knew JARVIS wasn’t actually up there. “Play it!”

Audio suddenly sounded from his phone, making Tony scramble for the device as he turned it up. Bruce grabbed his arm, moving the phone so the both of them could watch it with identical expressions of concern and fear.

As clear as day, Peter was on his screen. His hair was messy, his skin was deathly pale and there were dried tear tracks running down his cheeks. Apart from that, he looked far healthier and alive than Tony had last seen him.

“H-hi Dad, i really hope you’re receiving this; i tried to reprogram the computer like you taught me so i could send you this video but i’m not even sure if this is working or if i’m just talking into a dead computer screen. I tried to undo the block on the location but it was difficult so i’m not sure if it worked.

As you can see: I’m alive!” Peter did half-hearted jazz hands with a sad smile.

“I don’t know where i am, i just know that it was my teacher who kidnapped me— but now i think about it, i don’t really think Professor Petrov was actually ever my real teacher. He wants to cryro freeze me again and use me as a weapon in the future to destroy Steve and i’m guessing a lot of other people, too. I don’t know how long i have until he gets me and i go back in that chamber but i found someone who is trying to help me so maybe i have longer than i think.

I love you Dad— please find me.”

There was a loud banging sound coming from behind Peter in the audio, a garbled array of voices filling the audio. Peter screamed as a door was blown off its hinges, flooding the room with light. Tony wanted to yell out as two men rushed forward, grabbing Peter roughly as they dragged him back.

The screen went black and all the air rushed out of Tony’s lungs. Peter was alive. Peter was in danger. It was like relief and terror went hand in hand when it came down to him and his son.

“JARVIS, can you track where this video came from?”

His AI was quiet for a few seconds before replying. “The signal was weak but it seems you taught Peter well sir, he hacked the coding enough to allow a brief momentary block on the location.”

“So you know where my son is?” Tony’s hands shook as he waited for JARVIS’ confirmation.

“I believe so, yes.”

Tony turned to Bruce, watching as his friend’s eyes remained wide and full of fear. “Do you believe me now?”

All Tony could see in Bruce’s eyes were a slight green as he growled. “Let’s go get your son.”

Chapter Text

For the first time in Steve Roger’s life, he thought his knees might buckle under the weight of his shield. Attaching the shield to his arm felt like the most difficult task in the world as he tightened the straps until there was no room for it to budge.

Peter weighed on his mind, pulling him down into the despair that he’d been stuck in ever since he’d received Tony’s initial call. The thought of his child actually being alive after so many months of believing he was gone or dead was filing Steve’s heart with hope that he neither wanted nor liked to believe. Not until Peter was in his arms would Steve feel the heaviness from his heart get lifted.

“Quiet time is over,” Clint announced as he landed the Quinjet, making everyone on board stumble slightly. They were all sitting in silence, dotted around the Quinjet with identical looks of seriousness and dread written across their faces. Everyone had seen Peter’s video (sparking this emergency rescue mission) and they’d all seen how the video ended . . . Peter yelling as he got dragged away.

It felt too cruel for them to bust into the base only to find Peter’s life had been silenced before they had even arrived. Steve tightened the straps of his shield until his skin protested, the cold fear of what they would find in that base making him want to vomit.

“Remember that this is a rescue mission,” Bruce reminded them all, giving Natasha and Tony longer glances. The trip to the abandoned location JARVIS had discovered earlier that day had been short but seemingly enough time for an argument to break out.

Both Tony and Natasha had decided amongst themselves that Petrov (and everyone else) deserved to pay for the crime of taking Peter. They’d decided that once Peter was safe and taken away from that horrible place— “because he will be okay, you guys” Bruce had repeatedly said— that then it would be time to unleash all hell on HYDRA.

Steve, for one, was up for bringing down HYDRA but even he wasn’t entirely set on the way Natasha and Tony planned. Their idea of justice included bullets to the brain and gauntlets raised to a person’s heart.

Bruce, it seemed, was extremely against that.

“Petrov deserves to pay,” Tony glared as Clint walked out of the pilot seat to join the rest of the team as the argument from earlier was rehashed.

“He will,” Steve nodded, trying to keep his voice even as he and Tony shared the briefest of looks. Neither of them were entirely sure where they stood at that moment in time. Ever since Peter’s (fake) funeral with their argument, they hadn’t spoken to each other properly since. Their relationship the past few days consisted of Steve refusing to talk to Tony despite Tony’s lack of trying to reach out to anyone.

“Murder isn’t the answer,” Bruce sighed, wrapping his arms around his torso in the way Steve had noticed the man did a lot when uncomfortable. “What kind of example does that set to Peter?”

“This isn’t the time for life lessons,” Natasha grumbled, loading up one of her guns before placing it on the belt by her hip.

“I, for one, wouldn’t mind seeing Petrov’s head on a spike,” Clint shrugged, throwing in his own two cents.

“We’re meant to be the Avengers!” Bruce threw his hands up, exasperated. “The World’s Mightiest Heroes— not murderers!”

“You act as if we haven’t ever killed before,” Nat’s eyes narrowed, making Bruce swallow heavily.

“I’m saying that we need to act better than that because we are better than that.”

“Brucie, this isn’t the time for philosophy,” Tony sighed. “I just wanna go in there and get my kid. Capeesh?”

“I’ll stay on the Quinjet,” Bruce moved around them, suddenly looking far more tired and weary. “Unless you call for a Code Green.”

“I doubt it’ll come to that,” Steve watched as the man slinked off into a different room. No doubt he was grabbing the headphones always stocked on the Quinjet, ready to play classical musical to help calm his nerves and anger.

“The plan stays the same as we originally proposed,” Steve tried to sound as strong as he could. His heart was hammering in his chest, beating erratically and without a breath. “If we encounter hostility, we take them out. Peter’s life comes before our own.”

“Understood,” the rest of them nodded, with Clint and Natasha already heading down the ramp to brace the bitter air of the wind outside. The base Peter had been taken to was further upstate in an abandoned industrial area, meaning it was ideal for a showdown to occur without the chance of civilians getting caught in the mix.

“Tony,” Steve called out just as the man was about to head down the ramp. “Wait—“

“Save it Steve, i’m not really in the mood right now to start discussing . . . this when Pete’s still missing.” Steve knew he deserved the slightly harsh words but that didn’t stop him from trying again.

“I want to apologise.” Tony paused at Steve’s words, a confused frown flitting across his features. “You didn’t know the truth about Peter— i know you didn’t because if you had, you would’ve told me. When i found out the truth, only to then get the information that Peter had died . . . I used you as my punching bag to cover my grief. It was easier to be angry than it was to be sad.”

“Steve—“ Tony sighed but he was cut off when the super soldier shook his head.
“I need to apologise, Tony, because i’m truly indebted to you. You raised Peter for 7 years and he’s the amazing kid that he is today because of you. This entire situation is confusing and difficult to navigate but i want you to know how much i appreciate all you did for Peter.

And you were right: you are Peter’s Dad. First and foremost,” Steve sighed. “You’re his Dad and i’ll forever be in your debt simply because of how much you love Peter. You gave him a good life and made him a happy kid— that’s all i could ever want for my child.”

Tony was slightly taken aback at Steve’s words, not really knowing how to reply. It meant a lot that Steve had thought he’d done a good job with Peter but Tony wasn’t sure how he could convey that back. In the end, he opted for swallowing loudly and nodding in a jerky movement.

“Thanks Steve,” Tony tried to keep his voice even (failing miserably) before he cleared his throat and straightened his back. He set Steve with a serious look, nodding towards where the rest of the team waited at the end of the Quinjet’s ramp. “Now let’s go get our kid back.”

——————

Peter squeezed his eyes tight, trying to stop the flow of tears that threatened to spill. Pulling the bottom of his shirt up, he quickly tried to dab away the splatter of blood staining his cheek as a quiet sob broke out from his throat. His shirt came back red, making Peter’s hands shake as the tears finally rolled down his cheeks.

Blood was on his hands, splattered on his face and decorating his clothes. He’d wiped the majority of it off his palms and onto his trousers but red was still caked into his nails and embedded into the lines of his hands.

Bucky was staring at Peter with a wary expression, looking stuck between wanting to open up and help to opting to just sit back in silence and watch as the young boy suffered. In the end, his voice came across far softer than what his expression read.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” he kept his voice low to not startle the young boy. Bucky watched as Peter’s tears washed some of the red splatters away, his shaking hands shakily rising up and smearing even more blood on.

“I k-know,” Peter nodded, his voice hitching. They were hiding out in a deserted room, listening intently in case Petrov and his gang returned. The alarm was still blaring, sending the entire room into a red glow as the HYDRA agents raced down the corridors in search of the missing Peter and Bucky.

After Peter had been dragged away from his recorded message to his Dad, Bucky had finally managed to kill all the agents shooting at him. It taken two shots for the men holding Peter to fall down, splattering the young boy in their blood and making his stomach turn in an uneasy way.

They’d been hiding out ever since.

“How’s your leg?” Bucky glanced at the makeshift bandage wrapped around Peter’s left thigh. The wound hadn’t been dangerous or lethal, just a backfired bullet graze that did nothing but sting but caused no real damage.

“It h-hurts,” Peter wiped his nose with the back of his hand, sniffling loudly. The hope from earlier that their situation might turn around was gone now and in its place was a downcast defeat. Peter hung his head as the coldness of fear settled into his gut. The entire situation seemed hopeless now.

“Stop looking so down-trodden,” Bucky growled, flexing his red arm. There weren’t any marks from the bullets shot at him but he did have red staining his jacket, either from a wound or someone else— Peter wasn’t really sure.

Peter refused to meet Bucky’s glare, knowing he wouldn’t like what he saw. The brightness in his eyes that Peter had seen earlier when talking about Steve was gone now. In its place was something cold and harsh; something Peter didn’t like and hated to admit scared him a little.

“We’re going to die,” Peter sniffed again, using the only part of his shirt not splattered with blood to wipe away his tears.

“No we aren’t.”

“I may be 11 but i’m not dumb.”

“You aren’t going to die here,” Bucky let out a withering sigh. “They won’t kill you— what use are you to them if you’re dead? They’ll keep you alive for as long as they can until something better pops up and your use is finished.”

“Great,” Peter drawled, looking up suddenly to glare at Bucky. “I would rather be dead.”

“Don’t we all,” Bucky sighed again, glaring at the metal arm.

“You said you didn’t know what HYDRA did to you,” Peter spoke up after a while of silence. “Was that a lie?”

Bucky didn’t reply for a long while, almost making Peter believe he was being ignored. After what felt like ages, Bucky’s voice came back in nothing but a whisper. “Yes.”

The answer alone felt like a death sentence. Where Bucky had tried to censor himself previously to not scare the boy, now the hope was gone for escape it felt as if protecting Peter from the inevitable grip of HYDRA no longer mattered.

“What did they do?”

“They stole me,” Bucky’s voice was full of resigned anger. Anger that no longer burned brightly but instead was just . . . there. The injustice of the situation weighed him down but it felt as if there was nothing to do to fight it. “They gave me this—“ he pointed to his metal arm “and turned me into the most ruthless killer imaginable.”

“Were you brainwashed?” Peter chewed on his lip, wondering if in 20 years this would be him. Would he wake up as an adult, his entire life stolen from him with HYDRA’s next victim begging him to help them escape? Would he have more success than him and Bucky? “That’s what Professor Petrov said he was going to do to me.”

“Yeah they brainwashed me,” Bucky flexed his metal arm. “They made me do unimaginable things. Every time i woke up it was the same story: brainwash, mission, back into cyro. For over 50 years i’ve been pulling the strings behind the scenes of society— killing for people who are nothing more than terrorists and murderers.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Easy for you to say kid,” Bucky scoffed. “You don’t have blood on your hands.”

“Actually i do,” Peter tried to joke as he raised his red-stained hands. His half-hearted grin fell lopsided after a few seconds.

“I hope we do get out,” Bucky spoke sincerely. “For your sake only; you deserve more than this life.”

“So do you.”

Bucky didn’t reply.

“You aren’t a monster Bucky,” Peter pressed, growing concerned for his new friend. He felt almost embarrassed that a few minutes ago he’d been slightly scared of the man. “Nothing that you did was your fault— you weren’t in control of your own body or mind.”

“I remember every single one of them,” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily. “I remember all their faces, everything they said . . . I looked them in the eye each time and snuffed the life out of them without hesitation.”

“Because HYDRA made you.”

A wry smile came across Bucky’s face. “You really must be Stevie’s kid, only someone of your father’s blood could have so much faith in me.”

Peter didn’t reply, looking away quickly. He didn’t know what to say or how to act. The mention of Steve made his heart hurt, knowing that there was almost no chance for him to ever see the man again and tell him he knew the truth. The Universe had bestowed Peter with two great fathers and then snatched them away.

He was about to open his mouth and change the subject when the door to their room burst open. Bucky was on his feet immediately, gun raised despite the lack of bullets. (Another reason Peter had lost hope of surviving this hell-hole).

The young boy was about to cry, feeling the grip on his life slip away when he finally recognised the person standing in the doorway, hand on their hip and a smirk on their face.

“You found me!” Peter couldn’t help but grin, jumping up from where he’d been huddled to run across the room and hug the person around their torso.

Hope, once again, flared in his chest.

——————

“Tony, you’re up,” Clint spoke up as Natasha handed what looked like a metallic face mask to the man as the rest of them stood back. It had taken a while to walk from the Quinjet to the base considering they’d deliberately landed further away so not to arouse suspicion or tip HYDRA off about their arrival. By the time they reached the base, everyone was buzzing with anxiety about what they were about to walk into.

“God i hate this,” Tony muttered to himself as he placed the mask over his face. It felt cold to his skin, the metal-type material forming around his features perfectly as the holographic display outwardly changed to show a different man’s face. “How do i look?”

Natasha growled, rolling her eyes. “Like an asshole— now go get us in.”

The Photostatic Veil had been Natasha’s idea in order to get them inside the HYDRA base. With the Nano Mask secured on Tony’s face, his features outwardly displayed that of Egor Petrov. It was a perfect way of sneaking inside without tripping any alarms for intruder alerts.

Despite the foolproof part of the plan, nausea still settled in Tony’s stomach as he stepped up to the tiny camera built into the wall beside the massive, metal doors. He sucked in a deep breath before leaning closer so the scanner could do a test over his eye. It lasted a few seconds before the scanner beeped and the door opened wide.

It was almost too simple.

“I knew there was a reason we kept you around Nat,” Tony teased as the rest of the team walked inside the HYDRA base, their guns raised and ears perked. He ripped off the Nano Mask, handing it back to Natasha before stepping inside the waiting Iron Man suit.

“Don’t try and flatter me,” Natasha snarked back, sending Tony a quick smirk. He was about to reply with another remark when Steve suddenly threw up a hand, signalling that they all stay quiet. The doors to the base had closed behind them by now, trapping them inside with nothing but raging anxiety and a held breath.

“Do you hear that?” Steve whispered, frowning heavily as he searched for whatever noise it was that his sensitive ears could pick up.

“Not all of us have super hearing Cap,” Tony rolled his eyes inside the suit but he raised his gauntlet anyway, fearing whatever it could be that Steve was faintly hearing.

“Do i also have to point out that i’m deaf?” Clint joked, receiving a shush from Natasha as she too tried to strain her ears.

Steve’s eyes widened as he realised what the faint sound was. “It’s an alarm.”

“Shit,” Clint hissed. “So they know we’re here. So much for stealth.”

“I don’t think they do,” Steve shook his head. They all kept their voices down as they whispered amongst each other. “The alarm is further down, in the centre of the base; if they knew we were here, surely the alarm would be sounding here too?”

“Whether they know we’re here or not, we have to continue.” Tony’s voice sounded more metallic inside the suit. “We stick to the plan no matter what.”

“I agree,” Steve cleared his throat, sending Tony an awkward glance before looking away. “Clint, Natasha you go East whilst Tony and I go West. Keep your Comms on and let us know if you find Peter. The mission is a simple get in, get out but if hostility is encountered we fight back. Understood.”

“Aye Aye Captain,” Clint joked, yelping a second later when Natasha punched his shoulder. “Oh come on that was funny,” the archer rolled his eyes, still complaining even as he and the red-head turned and walked away.

“And then there were two,” Tony tried to keep his voice even as they headed down the base towards the source of blaring alarm. He knew it was probably the wrong decision to pair up with Steve given their slightly rocky history as of late but their combined source of rage for finding Peter was making them a formidable source.

Despite the loud alarm and the echo of feet running down corridors around them, the base seemed eerily empty as the two Avengers navigated their way around. With a gauntlet and shield raised, neither of them encountered any HYDRA agents.

“Do you think they’ve gone for a siesta?” Tony hissed as they rounded another corridor. The alarm was getting quieter now as they moved away from the core part of the base.

“Tony—“ Steve paused, freezing in his steps. The sight before them looked like that of a horror movie: blood was splattered on the walls, bodies of fallen agents littered the floor and bullet holes were embedded into the concrete around them. A smear of blood was left on the metal door at the end of the corridor, making both of their insides roll over.

“What the hell happened here?”

“These are HYDRA agents,” Steve pointed out the opposite. “Do you think . . .?”

“Peter is 11,” Tony shook his head inside the suit, glaring at the bodies laying around them. JARVIS pulled up an analysis of every corpse: showing that multiple gun shot wounds had been what took their lives. “He couldn’t— he wouldn’t— have done this.”

“Then who?” Steve whispered as they reached the heavy, metal door where two agents’ bodies lay on the ground in front of it.

“Let’s find out,” Tony pushed open the metal door, his eyes widening when he recognised it immediately. “Peter was in here. This was where he shot the video.”

Steve stared at the smear of blood on the door. “This doesn’t add up. What are you doing?” He frowned when Tony stepped out of the Iron Man suit, walking over to the computer with quick succession.

“Just doing a little hacking,” Tony brushed off, his fingers moving over the keys with lightning speed. “I should be into HYDRA’s file . . . right about . . . now— ta-dah!” The screen lit up with a bunch of files and encoded data. “Let’s see what HYDRA is hiding.”

“See if you can find the security footage for what happened here,” Steve closed the door as he watched Tony work, keeping an ear out in case someone tries to enter. He was extremely aware of the fact that outside of the Iron Man suit, Tony was practically unguarded and unsafe.

“One second—“

“Are you sure you can do it?”

Tony scoffed. “Are you doubting me? Me? I hacked into the Pentagon when i was 15!”

“That isn’t something to boast about.”

“Can we save our lover’s spat for later? Or ex-lover’s spat.”

“Ex?” The word sent a shiver of fear down Steve’s spine. Since when had this happened? He felt both shock and anger fill his veins, sending Tony a glare that the man ignored as he continued his hacking. “Thanks for filling me in on the fact we broke up.”

“Are you kidding me? We haven’t spoken in days and the last time we did speak, you yelled at me and accused me of things i never did!” Tony spared a second to let his frustration be known.

“So that means we broke up?” Steve hissed, pressing his ear further against the metal in case footsteps sounded down the corridor. He tried to listen out despite the pounding behind his ears from his brain trying to process the anger he was feeling.

“It means that i don’t really know where we are at relationship wise!” Tony shot back.

“These past few days have been hard, sure, but that doesn’t mean i love you any less,” Steve didn’t know why he was getting so worked up. The fear of possibly losing Peter after getting a glimpse of hope that he could still come back safe and alive was making Steve feel more anxious and on edge. And now faced with the possibility of losing Tony too, Steve felt himself slowly coming apart.

The past few days had strained his mind and mental state significantly. From losing Peter to trying to get him back to arguing with Tony to not talking to him all together, all Steve wanted was some peace. No matter how hard things got, he knew that Tony was the only person he wanted to face all life’s challenges with.

Tony paused in his hacking. “Yeah, well i still love you too.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“So we aren’t broken up then?”

“Not unless you want us to be.”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Steve couldn’t help the small smile that grew across his face as he nodded at Tony’s back, watching his boyfriend’s impressive job of hacking the security cameras. It felt so childish but Steve couldn’t deny the slight butterflies in his stomach.

“I’m in.” Tony called out a few seconds later, the screen he’d been working on suddenly playing earlier footage. Steve abandoned his post at the door to saunter over to where Tony stood watching as a man with long brown hair shot down all the HYDRA agents currently laying on the floor outside.

The man had a metal arm, his long hair pushed back as he shot down man after man after man. Peter cowered behind the strange metal-armed man before turning and running down the direction to the door. Both Steve and Tony flinched when a bullet bounced off the wall and grazed Peter’s leg, leaving a smear of blood on the door. A second later and Peter was safely inside the room both his father’s were currently in.

“Who the hell is that man?” Tony muttered as he zoomed in on the back of the metal-arm man’s head. His face was hidden from the camera, prompting Tony to do more hacking until he was into a camera facing towards the metal door, showing off the man who’d been protecting Peter.

“No way.” Steve felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. All the air left his lungs as he stared in disbelief at the face he could recognise anywhere. There was no way . . . No possible way . . . Yet he’d believed there was no way that Peter could’ve been his son and he’d refused to believe that Tony was telling the truth that Peter was alive until he’d seen the proof.

By now, Steve realised he should never just assume that the impossible was no longer possible.

Because the proof that his best friend who’d been dead for decades was alive was glaring at him through the computer screen.

“What?”

“That’s Bucky.”

Tony frowned, giving Steve a look that screamed ‘are you crazy?’

“You said Bucky died— and if he wasn’t, shouldn’t he be like 100 now?”

“Tony i swear to you,” Steve shook his head, moving closer to the screen. “That’s my Bucky— i could recognise him anywhere.”

He remembered one summer back when Steve’s asthma had been really bad, resulting in him being hospitalised for months on end. Steve’s mother, despite hating to leave him, hadn’t been able to stay for longer than an hour each time to look after him due to her demanding job and need for money in order to cover the cost of Steve’s illnesses. After revealing to Bucky his loneliness at being locked up in the hospital for days on end, his best friend had decided to make due of the crooked, old victor’s seat and refused to leave each night the nurse came to do her rounds.

That summer, with the both of them staying inside the cramped and smelly hospital room with nothing but their own voices to keep them company, Steve had watched Bucky’s hair grow down past his shoulders. It had been a look that suited him and looking at the computer screen now, Steve decided it still suited him.

“That’s impossible—“

“Peter being my biological son seems impossible,” Steve shook his head. “I guess we live in a world where anything is possible now.”

Tony looked ready to argue but opted for sighing instead. “We were attacked by aliens less than a year ago.”

“This recuse mission just got even more complicated.”

“Let me see something,” Tony started tapping away on the computer again, using JARVIS to help infiltrate HYDRA’s files and run a facial recognition on anything to do with Bucky. “What’s this?”

“It looks like a mission report?” Steve frowned, trying to make sense of all the words. The report was written in Russian, something neither of them could understand.

Tony read the date of the file on the screen. “December 16, 1991.” A chill ran down his spine as dark memories resurfaced from that day. Despite it being 21 years ago, his heart still felt slightly cold and empty after all he’d lost on that day. He could still remember the call he’d received from Obie that very night, his Godfather’s voice breaking in the slightest way as he told Tony about the passing of his parents.

A goddamn car crash.

Tony brushed those dark thoughts away as he re-focused on the mission report on the screen. Considering it was one of the only things to pop up in relation of Bucky, he knew it was important.

“There’s a video,” Steve pointed to the compressed file at the corner of the screen. “Perhaps that will make more sense.”

The second the video loaded and the terrible events of what occurred on December 16, 1991 started to play on the screen, Tony suddenly wished that Bucky Barnes really wasn’t alive.

Chapter Text

“The cuffs are too tight,” Peter whined as his wrists began to ache. The metal cuffs currently digging into his skin were making his wrists red and raw, digging into his bone as he hurried to catch up to the HYDRA agent currently walking him down the corridor to where Petrov was apparently waiting.

“Stop whining,” the agent grabbed the back of Peter’s blood stained shirt with one hand whilst using the other to push open a large metal door. Inside, Petrov stood in the middle of the concrete room, twisting a gun around in his hands.

“Finally,” Petrov glared as Peter was shoved the stand in front of the man. “I thought we lost you for a second there Pete.”

“I wish you had,” Peter spat back, flinching when his remark resulted in Petrov’s hand striking him sharply across the cheek.

“First you disappear on me!” Petrov hissed. His normally narrow eyes were wide, fury burning brightly shining through them. “And then you attempt to talk back to me? Insolence!” Another hand hit Peter across the cheek, tears stinging in his eyes as he flinched once more. His cheek felt like it was on fire, the prickling sensation making him close his mouth immediately in fear of his voice cracking.

“Do you understand the complications of your attempt to escape?” Petrov folded his hands over his chest, glaring down at Peter with such hatred that if looks could kill, the poor boy would drop dead.

This time, Peter kept his mouth closed.

The man turned his attention to the HYDRA agent currently standing behind Peter. They’d been the one who’d found him, wasting no time in bringing him back to their boss. “And where is the Winter Soldier? I know those two were working together.”

“No sign of him,” the agent shook their head. He was a thin man with a large upper lip and rat-like nose. “I found the boy hiding in an abandoned torture room.”

“It doesn’t make sense that the pair would split up,” Petrov returned his glare back to Peter. The young boy tried not flinch when his ex-teacher addressed him once more, voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Where did your friend go, boy?”

Peter shrugged heavily, biting the inner corner of his lip as he tried to keep his voice even. “I don’t know.”

Petrov’s glare intensified, a loud growl ripping out from his throat. If Peter had been scared of Petrov back when the man had merely been his teacher, then he was terrified of him now. A bony hand reached out and grabbed Peter by his hair, making the boy yelp as he tugged. “I don’t believe you for one-second.”

“I swear!” Peter’s voice cracked but he wrote it off as nerves. “He ditched me! We were hiding in the room together and then all of a sudden he jumped up and left me!”

“Do you know where he went?” Petrov’s eyes were scanning his face, searching every inch of his expression for a possible lie.

“No!”

“I think the boy is telling the truth, sir,” the agent sounded from behind him. “There was no trace of the Winter Soldier with him. The rest of my team are searching for him as we speak. He can’t get far.”

“The second he is found,” Petrov growled. “Put him back in cryo. He’s been out for too long.”

“Yes, sir.” The agent nodded. “What shall i do with the boy?”

“He’s staying here,” another sharp yank on Peter’s hair made him yelp loudly. “We have guests who are no doubt dying to see him.”

“Wouldn’t it be best that i take the boy back to cyro, sir?”

“Are you questioning my authority Agent?” The sound of Petrov’s voice sent shivers down Peter’s spine. He sounded so deadly as he addressed the thin man currently shaking his head.

“Of course not, sir!”

“Good. Now do as i say, we don’t have long before i go and fetch our guests.”

Peter had a terrible feeling he knew exactly who those guests would be.

——————

Tony wasn’t sure if he wanted to puke or punch his hand through a wall. The image of what had happened to his parents on that cold December night 21 years ago was now burned into his eyes. All he could see each time he blinked was the metal arm of Steve’s old friend punching his father’s face in and then moving around the car to choke the life out of his mother.

(“Sergent Barns?. . . .”

“H-Howard. . . “)

“Tony, you need to calm down—“ Steve was trying to reason with his boyfriend but Tony didn’t hear a word he said. It was like distant noise, drowned out by the cries of his parents as they were killed.

Murdered.

As they were murdered, he realised. For 21 years he’d put their deaths down to a tragic accident brought on by his father’s possible drinking and an icy road. He’d been orphaned as a mere 17 year old, not even in adulthood and suddenly drowning in wealth and emotional issues.

The event that had shaped his life (his parent’s deaths) which impacted his entire future when it came to relationships and using sarcasm as a defence mechanism was brought on by something so far from what he’d originally believed.

Because no matter what Tony did anymore, he knew he would always be able to hear his mother’s broken cries as she watched her husband get murdered. He would always be able to hear the slight gurgle she made as she weakly tried to push her attacker’s hands away from her neck.

“He killed them,” the words slipped out his throat without any emotion behind them. Tony wasn’t really sure how he was meant to feel. Sad? Angry? Broken? How was someone meant to react when they found out their parents had been murdered and then their murder was covered up?

“That’s not Bucky,” Steve’s voice suddenly filtered back into Tony’s mind. He shook his head violently, turning to glare at his boyfriend.

“What? Did you not watch the same tape as i did, Steve? Did you not see your friend— the friend who is meant to be dead— kill my parents? How can you say that wasn’t him!”

“I know Bucky,” Steve shook his head manically like he was trying to convince himself. “Bucky wouldn’t do that.”

“Bullshit! I have it on tape!”

“Bucky is a good person!”

“He’s a MURDERER!” Tony screamed until his lungs ached, putting all his breath and air into the word. His heart was racing in his chest as his hands clenched and unclenched. All he wanted to do was return the deed back to this Bucky. The man who hadn’t even flinched when his Dad looked him in the eye or his Mom cried.

Bucky Barnes had showed no mercy so Tony didn’t plan on showing any either.

“That wasn’t—“

“Cut the crap; stop defending him when you don’t even know what’s going on.” Tony spat.

“You don’t know either,” Steve took a step forward, a shaky hand reaching out to hold Tony’s arm. For a second the man considered flinching away but the second Steve’s palm held onto him, Tony realised how much he desperately craved to be touched. He’d just witnessed something horrible— was it too much to ask for his boyfriend to hold him and be on his side?

Tony took in a shaky breath, squeezing his mouth together to stop a retort getting out. Steve walked closer, wrapping his arms around Tony with a gentle gesture. It was sort of stiff with the both of them in suits but for the time being, it was perfect.

“Don’t act rash until you have all the facts,” Steve whispered. “Remember why we’re here; remember who we’re here for.”

The subtle mention of Peter had Tony taking a step back with a curt nod. Where he couldn’t save his parents, Tony promised himself he would save his son. No matter what happened between now and the near future, Peter would be walking out of here safe and alive.

A slow clapping sound came from behind them. Where the door had once been closed, it was now wide open with the silhouette of a tall, skinny man standing in the doorway. “How very touching,” Petrov’s accent was harsh as he continued his slow cap, walking further into the room. “I’m honestly touched.”

“You bastard,” Tony fired up one of his gauntlets at the same time Steve jumped back and raised his shield. Petrov didn’t seem fazed, regarding them both lazily. “Where’s Peter?” Tony yelled.

“I’d put the weapons down if i were you,” the nasty man sighed in an almost-bored way.

“And why would we do that?” Steve’s voice came out more like a growl. He glared at the man who’d abducted his son, wanting nothing more than to punch him until the man bled and cried.

“Because your son’s life depends on it,” Petrov shrugged in a too-casual manner. Slowly, with slight hesitation because of the weapons raised at him, he brought a tablet out of his pocket. He turned the screen around, showing Tony and Steve clear-cut security footage of Peter tied to a chair with some HYDRA agent pointing a gun at his head.

“You so much as take a step forwards me or threaten me in any way,” Petrov glowered, pointing to a red button brightly shining on his custom watch. “And i press this button, signalling to my man to kill your son. Which he’ll do without hesitation.”

Steve slowly moved his shield so it was hanging by his waist. As much as he wanted to stay on the offensive and beat this man to shreds, he knew that it wouldn’t take much effort for Petrov to press said button and then Peter really would be gone.

“What do you want?”

“For you to follow me,” Petrov smirked once more, turning on his heel and walking back down the corridor. Tony and Steve shared confused glances before following the man. They wouldn’t dare risk Peter’s life.

As they exited the room, two more HYDRA agents flanked them, following closely behind with guns raised as Tony and Steve followed Petrov through the base. It felt like ages before they reached a metal door identical to all the others. Petrov pushed the door open, with Tony and Steve walking in a second after him . . .

“Peter!” Tony couldn’t explain the feeling that overcame him as he finally laid eyes on his living, breathing son. Peter was tied to a metal chair, mouth gagged, in the middle of the room when his parents walked in. At Tony’s cry, Peter’s eyes widened, tears rushing up as he tried to call out for his Dad. All that came out was a muffled sound but the thought was what counted.

Tony made to step forward but Petrov made a loud tutting noise, gesturing to the agent standing to Peter’s side with their gun pressed firmly to his temple. It took all of Tony’s strength right then and there not to let out an inhuman cry and rip the gun from that agent’s hand.

They were so close but it still felt like they were painfully apart.

“Okay you have our attention,” Tony turned his gaze to Petrov, trying to ignore how Peter looked like he would cry any second now. He’d wipe away his kid’s tears the second they were safe— for now he had to focus on this maniac. “What exactly is it you want from us?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Petrov let out a sharp laugh. He raised his gun, pointing it directly towards Steve’s head. “I want you dead.”

Tony raised his gauntlet, panic rising up in his chest. At this current moment, he had someone with their gun on Peter AND on Steve. He couldn’t bear to lose either or both of them.

“Step out of the suit,” Petrov hissed, not sparing Tony a glance. He had his eyes on Steve only. When Tony didn’t comply, Petrov spoke again. “Get out of the suit! Or my agent will shoot your son, Stark!”

Peter made a yelling noise at the same time that Steve tried to reason with his boyfriend. “Do as he says Tony; it’ll be okay.”

There was no way Steve could promise that. Tony knew stepping out the suit meant he was practically defenceless. He couldn’t help Steve nor Peter (or even himself) if he complied but Steve was looking at him with a pained expression and he could see the gun being pointed at Peter’s head.

It felt like he was condemning Steve to death when he de-actived the suit around him, stepping out of it so he was just standing there in the usual black skintight suit he wore underneath.

“Why did you bring us here?” Steve raised his hands slowly, putting the shield back on his back. His eyes were trained on Petrov’s gun pointing directly at his forehead. “To Peter? To torment us? To torment him?”

Petrov pulled a fake sympathetic expression. “I simply thought two fathers would want to see their son before they died?”

“You're sick,” Tony spat, glaring at the man. He felt useless standing there, watching with the possibility of his son and boyfriend getting shot.

Petrov smirked. “You know, the initial plan was to raise Peter to perfection so he could kill you but that plan seems to have been foiled now. So i guess the next best option has to be this.”

“Whatever you plan on doing, it won’t work,” Tony tried to remain confident despite the fear growing in his chest.

“For years my father was obsessed with killing you,” the villain commented as he stepped closer, ignoring Tony completely. “It consumed him; your death was one of the only driving factors for why he lived as long as he did. It nearly cost him everything making it making it so Peter was the one who brought about your demise. For over 50 years my father hid the boy, preserving him perfectly so that one day Peter could be awoken and complete my father’s goal of bringing down the great Captain America,”

“Shame he couldn’t be here.”

Petrov shrugged nonchalantly. “Yes. Although with his plan being disastrously foiled, perhaps it was for the best. I wonder what he would say if he saw that it was i who held a gun to Captain America’s head.”

By now, Petrov was so close that he could press the barrel of his gun against Steve’s forehead. The metal was cold and hard, making Steve shiver slightly. He wasn’t scared of the fact that there seemed no possible way out of this— he refused to let Tony intervene in case it meant that the agent threatening Peter got trigger happy. And if Steve had to die to ensure Peter survived, then he would take it.

He turned his head to the side, hating how scared Peter looked. The boy’s eyes were round and full of fear. “I love you Peter,” Steve whispered, trying to keep his voice even. He wished this wasn’t happening here; he wished Peter wouldn’t have to see this. It was one thing to lose the father you never knew you had but it was another to lose him right in front of you. “I’m proud you are my son.”

Petrov made a growling noise, bring everyone back to the present. “Enough sentimentality. My father always said that children were the best weapons and i guess he was right.”

“Be sure to tell him that when you see him next— which’ll be soon.” The agent holding the gun to Peter’s head suddenly spoke up, their voice cold and harsh. Before anyone could react, they swiftly moved their arm, pointing the gun at Petrov’s kneecaps and shooting twice. With a loud scream and sob, the man fell down to the floor in a loud heap.

Steve didn’t hesitate to kick the gun from Petrov’s hand as the HYDRA agent made short work of the other two standing behind them all, making them fall down before they could even react to their boss’ sudden mutilation.

“Who are you?” Steve pointed the gun he’d stolen from Petrov at the HYDRA agent who’d switched sides.

A slight chuckle escaped the agent’s lips, their hand reaching up to their face and in one swift motion, pulled what seemed like a face mask from their face. “I should probably be proud that i pulled off such a convincing performance,” Natasha smirked as she pocketed the Nano Mask. She gently undid Peter’s gag and seat restraints, ruffling his hair afterwards.

“Dad!” Peter wasted no time in running from his chair and straight into Tony’s arms. They both ignored the bleeding, crying man on the floor as they hugged like no one was watching.

A sob escaped Tony’s throat as he pushed Peter closer into his embrace, the feel of the boy’s body against his almost like getting a limb returned. It felt insane to think the last time he’d held the kid had been when he’d thought Peter was dead. Tony pressed his face into Peter’s warm neck, one hand carding through the boy’s hair as he spared a second to kiss his temple.

“I never got to tell you that i love you too, Dad,” Peter sobbed, crying heavily into Tony’s shoulder and holding on like his life depended on it. Now that his Dad was back, the hope that had been for the past few hours suddenly returned.

“Pete, what?” Tony sniffed, pulling back and wiping a few tears from his kid’s blotchy face. “What do you mean?”

“In the Hospital,” Peter sniffed, pressing his forehead against his Dad’s. “When you thought i died— you said i was your everything. You’re mine too. I love you Dad.”

“I know kiddo,” Tony chuckled despite it all, pressing a kiss to Peter’s cheek. “I know. God, i’ve missed you. These past few days thinking you were dead were absolute hell.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault kid,” Tony kissed Peter’s cheek once more. “But how about you make me a promise, okay? No dying until i’m long, long, long gone— think you can handle that?”

Peter smiled, wiping away a few stray tears. “Only if you promise the day you go won’t be for decades and decades!”

“I think we work something out,” the billionaire winked in a playful way, pulling Peter back into his embrace. “You’re my everything, kiddo. I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you.”

“Not your fault,” Peter mimicked his Dad. “You did think i was dead for a while so i’ll give you a free pass.”

Tony chuckled at his son’s humour. It was strange to think that only a few days ago he’d been wallowing in bed, believing he would never get to hear Peter’s voice again or see the way Peter’s eyes sparkled when he made a joke. It was a feeling Tony begged he would never feel again.

Holding Peter in his arms now felt like a miracle Tony didn’t deserve but he’d take it. He’d take it and be grateful every day for the rest of his life.

“What would i do without you?” Tony spoke dryly, laughing again as he pulled Peter back into a hug. He didn’t think he could ever tire of the kid’s hugs anymore.

Peter looked up from his Dad’s shoulder, making eye contact with Steve. The man was hovering behind them, looking rather emotional but also out of place, like he wasn’t sure what to do. The young boy decided to beat the superhero to the punch, extracting himself from his Dad so he could shyly wander up to his biological father.

“Hey Steve,” Peter whispered. He guessed that in some ways, Peter did look a bit like Steve: their jaw was kinda similar and apart from the colour, their eyes were the same shape too. Now that the truth had been revealed, Peter almost questioned how he hadn’t guessed it before. There were so many qualities between the two that were identical.

(One thing Peter wished he had inherited was Steve’s muscles— that was a huge letdown.)

“Hey Peter,” Steve whispered back, sounding choked up. He was looking at Peter in the same way a man would eye up water after a drought. His blue eyes were searching every inch of Peter’s face like he was trying to memorise it for the rest of his life. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks for coming to save me,” Peter wasn’t sure why he kept whispering but Steve didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he knelt down so he was more at eye level with the 11 year old. A hand gently reached out to brush some hair out of Peter’s face, blue eyes meeting brown with a similar understanding.

Peter could see the love shining back at him through Steve. He knew what it looked like because he’d seen it so many times when looking at his Dad and his Mum (when she remembered him).

Even though it was still weird to find out the truth, Peter was suddenly grateful. He’d gone from a kid with only parent, to no parents to one again to three. Love was coming from every single angle of his not-so-small family and Peter knew, in that moment, that he was actually happy to have discovered the truth.

“I’m glad you’re my biological father, Steve,” Peter whispered into Steve’s ear, moving in closer to give the man a hug.

“You know?” Steve couldn’t hold back the shock, pulling away slightly to look at his child in the eye. Yes, Steve realised, those were definitely Peggy’s eyes. How could he not have noticed it before? It was like staring at the woman he once loved yet again.

Except this wasn’t Peggy. This was their son. For the first time since Steve had come out of the ice and learnt about the child he’d fathered, he felt complete and utter happiness. His kid was alive, healthy and happy (he’d be happier too if they managed to escape in time).

“Yeah,” Peter chuckled, shrugging gently. “Petrov told me when he was going off on his ‘bad guy spiel’”.

“And you’re okay with it? . . . You don’t wish i wasn’t?” Steve tried to not look as terrified as he felt. He felt like such a deadbeat father— especially when compared to Tony. He hadn’t been there for Peter to stop his original kidnapping (he hadn’t even been there for Peter’s birth!) and now he was barging into the kid’s life at 11 years old.

He almost wouldn’t blame Peter for hating him.

Peter shook his head, giving Steve another hug and following in his Dad’s footsteps of kissing his cheek. “Of course i’m okay with it, why wouldn’t i be?”

Steve cleared his throat, trying to not sound so emotional. “Well, i mean . . . i haven’t exactly been there for you.”

Peter frowned. “That wasn’t your fault, though. And you were there when i had my allergic reaction. You were there to save me from aliens. You’ve unknowingly been acting like my father from the start. I’m glad that you’re my biological father.”

“I don’t want to replace anyone,” Steve felt the urge to clear this up. “I know what Tony is to you and i would never come between that—“

“I know. Dad’s my Dad and you’re my Papa,” Peter smirked in a way that made Steve freeze. For a second he forgot where he was. All he could see was Peggy’s red lips pulling up, a laugh escaping her lips when Steve said something to make her laugh . . .

God, Steve thought, he loved this kid.

“And anyway,” Peter brought his Papa back to the present. “I think it’s cool that now i have two Dads!”

Tony stepped forward, giving Peter’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Yeah you do, buddy.” He shared a smile with Steve.

“This is cute,” Natasha’s voice cut through their moment. “But how about we get out of here? Clint and Bucky should’ve finished planting the explosives by now."

Tony froze. “Bucky . . . ?”

“Dad, he’s my new friend,” Peter seemed to be oblivious to his Dad’s sudden mood change. “You’ll like him!”

“Tony—“ Steve was about to try and reason with his boyfriend when suddenly Bucky and Clint burst into the room, a large button held in Clint’s hand.

“We need to go, like soon!” Clint sounded worried, checking over the number counting down on the button. “This place is about to explode in 7 minutes.” The red numbers counting down actually said 6 minutes and 54 seconds but Peter wasn’t going to correct his Uncle.

“Steve. . .” Bucky breathed the word out. “It really is you . . .” He looked like someone had slapped him across the face; Bucky’s eyes started to tear up as he stared at his old friend, looking like nothing in the world could compare. Peter smiled as he watched his new friend stare at his Papa— it made Peter feel excited for the next time he saw Ned.

Steve had Bucky’s name on his lips, the happiness at seeing his old friend making him slightly light-headed when the sound of Tony’s gauntlet firing up made him freeze. The giddiness he felt at being reunited with his oldest and dearest friend was quickly drawn short.

“Step the fuck away from my son.” Tony gritted out, his gauntlet aimed right at the ex-HYDRA assassins’ head. “Or i’ll blow your brains out right here.”

Once again on the offence, Bucky raised his gun, frowning heavily. “Who the hell are you?”

The warm atmosphere from before of reunited families and friends took little time to turn sour. The room now felt cold as everyone waited with bated breath for something bad to happen.

“Bucky no!” Peter screamed, his eyes wide as Natasha pulled him away from the possible fight. He tried to fight his Aunt’s grip but she held him tightly. “Dad, stop!”

“You’re a sick son of a bitch,” Tony growled, keeping his eyes trained on Barnes. He tried to ignore everyone else as the anger took over him.

“Tony, it wasn't him—“

“Dad, stop! HYDRA brainwashed him!”

“Tony, think about what you’re doing—“

“Guys, this really isn’t the time. The place is about to explode!”

“YOU KILLED MY PARENTS!” Tony roared, the fury burning through his veins. He squinted one eye as he stared at Bucky’s face, remembering how cold and passive he’d looked in the video when he chocked Maria to death. “You killed my mom.”

Peter finally freed his arm from Natasha’s grip, racing over to where Bucky stood. He knew he was too small to block the gauntlet if it fired but he hoped maybe his Dad would listen better if he stood directly in front of him.

“Dad, please,” tears ran Peter’s cheeks. He didn’t know what was going on or why his Dad was so angry but Peter knew in his bones that Bucky wasn’t to blame. HYDRA had hurt him and that wasn’t Bucky’s fault.

“Kid,” Bucky kneed him in the lower back. “Move before you get hurt.”

“He saved my life, Dad,” Peter tried again. “I’m alive because of him. Whatever he did or you think he did, wasn’t Bucky’s fault. HYDRA brainwashed him and made him do bad things without any choice.”

“I saw the footage,” Tony growled, trying to ignore Peter. Don’t look down, he told himself. If he looked down and saw Peter’s eyes he would lose his nerve. “Peter— move now.”

“Tony,” Steve stepped forward, holding his breathe as he tentatively reached a hand out to hold his boyfriend’s wrist. “What we saw was disturbing and i know you’re angry. . . but what we saw wasn’t Bucky. I know him, okay, he wouldn’t do that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tony shook his head. Every time he blinked he could see Howard’s face get punched in and hear Maria’s wails. A terrified voice in his mind yelled that if he let Bucky live now, then who knew if the assassin would take away the last of Tony’s family, too?

“He saved my life,” Peter sobbed. Tony tried to ignore that piece of information. It was like flipping a coin when it came to barnes. Heads and he’d seen security footage of Bucky saving his son’s life— even risking his own in order to help the child attempt to escape. Tails and he’d seen the man kill two innocent people who just so happened to be Tony’s parents.

Something itched in him that there were some truth behind Peter and Steve’s words but the anger of finally knowing the truth kept Tony’s arm raised.

“I remember them.” Bucky spoke quietly, his voice etched in pain as he took in a steady breath. Slowly, he lowered his gun until he was defenceless. “I remember all the people i killed. December 1991, right? Howard and Maria Stark? You look just like your Dad back when i knew him in the ‘40s.”

Shut up, Tony wanted to yell. Don’t talk about Howard as if you had any right.

“I didn’t want to do it,” Bucky whispered. His eyes conveyed the trauma held inside him, the pupils wide as he bowed his head slightly. “HYDRA has a set selection of words that once uttered, take away all my freedom. I knew i was doing, i could see myself doing it, but i had no ability to stop it.

I remember that night back in 1991. I remember killing your parents. I remember how they looked and the sound of them dying. I remember everyone i killed.

I didn’t want to kill any of them.”

Tony grit his teeth, biting the inside of his lip so hard that it started to bleed. He could tell Barnes was sincere, there was just something completely broken about the way he spoke that made Tony feel the regret. He could practically see Barnes’ guilt in the man’s eyes. As much as he tried to ignore it, he started to let doubt creep up into him and allow the thought of maybe Steve and Peter were right.

Nethertheless, no matter how much anger was coursing through Tony’s veins, there was no way he would be shooting Barnes in front of his son.

“Peter,” Tony snapped his gaze down to the crying boy still standing in front of the assassin. “Come here.” He was glad when Peter didn’t argue, instead rushing into his arms and allowing his Dad to pick him up effortlessly.

A quick glance at Clint’s counting down clock made Tony swallow down his anger. They didn’t have very long to get out now.

“Tony—“ Steve paused, looking stuck between shocked and proud at his boyfriend’s sudden mood swing. It wasn’t hard to tell he was relived that Bucky was still standing and alive.

Tony shifted Peter in his arms until he was more secure. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Natasha suddenly kicked the now-silent Petrov in the leg, making the bleeding man whimper as his hands protectively formed around his shot knee-caps. “What do we do with him?”

As much as Tony wanted to grab a gun and end the man right now, he knew it would be unwise to do so when in front of Peter. The kid had a heart too big to allow something like that to happen. Shaking his head, Tony suggested the option he’d been hoping they could avoid. “We leave him.”

Natasha kicked Petrov once more. “Say hi to dearest Dad for us.”

“Guys,” Clint had an edge in his voice now. “Might i remind you that we now only have 4 minutes and 45 seconds left before this place blows?”

“Shit,” Tony hissed, looking at Steve, the both of them sharing a nod. “We need to go. Now.”

They raced through the corridors, leaving a yelling Petrov behind. Bucky led the way, his gun raised as he navigated the walk back to the entrance. “How long do we have left?”

“2 minutes 12.”

Tony tightened his grip on Peter as the boy pressed his face into the metal of his Dad’s suit, squeezing his eyes tight as he tried to envisage his happy place. A mental picture of Tony, Steve and the rest of the team (including Bucky) lit up in his mind. They were all watching TV, laughing loudly and smiling. Peter’s Dad was running his fingers through his hair and his Papa had an arm around his shoulders.

“1 minute 37.”

Peter bit his lip as his Dad took turn after turn after turn. His heart was beating in his chest so loud that he was sure it echoed down the base. Every now and then he heard the occasional gun shot as another HYDRA agent was shot down in their attempt to leave.

“27 seconds.”

Anxiety was coursing up now. Peter was too scared to open his eyes. What if they didn’t make it? What if they couldn’t get out? What if—

Fresh air filled Peter’s nose, the bitterness of the outside day making Peter startle so much his eyes opened on instinct. They were outside, all of them running or flying as fast as they could away from the base. In his head, Peter counted down the last few seconds, craning his neck over his Dad’s shoulder to see what he could of the HYDRA base as his Dad flew gently in the air to get him to safety.

Ten, nine, eight . . .

Peter clung to his Dad tightly as they landed a safe distance away.

Seven, six, five . . .

He was glad they were all out and safe.

Four, three, two . . .

Peter was glad that, by now, everyone else had run to a safe distance too.

One.

The base exploded with a painfully loud bang, fire and smoke rising up as it engulfed the concrete jail until there was almost nothing left. Smoke filled Peter’s nose, making him cough as the blast of heat slapped him straight in the face. Debris from the explosion landed around them, the smoking parts leaving a trail in the air as they flew around.

“It’s going to be okay now Pete,” Tony tightened his grip, his metal hands stroking his son’s back in a comforting way.

Peter continued to look over his Dad’s shoulder, watching as Steve drew in a deep breath from all the running. There wasn’t a scratch on the man and when they made eye contact, Steve ripped off his Captain America mask to give Peter a calming wink.

Yeah, Peter thought. It’s gonna be okay now.

Chapter Text

Waterfalls.

Peter closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and thought of waterfalls. He imagined the sound of the water running, almost deafening as it prepared itself for the fall off the cliff. He thought of how the water splashed down onto the rocks below in such a violent way that it sent water shooting off in different directions. It was almost scary to imagine until he thought of how the water then drifted calmly back into its usual current, swaying and meandering like nothing had happened.

Whenever Peter got too scared or the bad memories of the events a few months ago plagued his mind, he closed his eyes and dreamt of waterfalls. Of how scary they were . . . and then how calm they became. Dr Hart always said that his coping mechanism was somehow very mature for a kid of his age. But with Peter slowly moving towards the age of 12 every day, he disagreed with his therapist’s thoughts.

It was usually at night when the thought of waterfalls was needed the most. In the darkness of his room, Peter couldn’t help but be reminded of the hours he spent paralysed, eyes closed and fear consuming him as the world believed he died. If he strained his ears hard enough he could almost hear his Dad’s sobs and Ned’s begging words for him to wake up.

“I am awake!” He wanted to scream but his mouth would be clamped shut with fear. The darkness always enveloped him and each night his eyes closed, he would once again be laying on the museum floor with his evil teacher lurking over him. . .

“Peter?” Dr Hart’s voice cut through the boy’s thoughts, shutting off the bad memories and brining him back to the white-painted walls of his therapist’s room. Peter had argued that he didn’t need a therapist ever since his return from the HYDRA base but his Dad had set his foot down so 2 times a week, Peter found himself on the same white sofa, opposite the same grey haired man.

“Sorry, i—uh— zoned out,” he cleared his throat, trying to blink away the embarrassment. In another situation, Peter didn’t care if he zoned out. But here, with Dr Hart scrutinising him with such intensity, each time Peter felt as if he slipped up almost gave the therapist another sign of how screwed up he was.

“Do you do that a lot?” Dr Hart leaned forwards so his elbows were on his knees. “Zoning out?”

Peter wasn’t sure what was the best answer. Yes or no? What did the man want to hear? What seemed like a more normal response?

In the end, Peter settled on shrugging.

Dr Hart hummed before scribbling something down on his notepad quickly. The man must be in his early 60s Peter assumed, with grey hair and a thick, bushy moustache, he played the part of the child therapist who was equal parts kind yet patronising.

“How is school going?”

Peter tried not to think about how his class still stared at him like they could see a ghost despite the whole museum-incident having occurred a little over 3 months ago now. He tried to ignore how his teachers always treated him like he was an angel, smiling too widely when they passed him and giving him more praise than others. He tried to ignore the conversations he overheard about how he was a zombie or even possibly some religious symbol.

To the outside world, Peter had died. To his class, his heart had stopped.

“It’s going okay,” Peter lied. He thought for a second before letting a smile grow on his lips. “Ned is still as hyper as always.”

“And how is Ned handling you being back?” Dr Hart nodded, encouraging Peter’s slight happiness of the subject.

Peter chuckled lightly. “Really well. He lets me decide who i want to be when we play Jedi vs Sith at lunch— i always want to be the Jedi.”

Dr Hart laughed earnestly, looking fondly over the small boy sitting opposite him. “I’m glad you have such a solid friend. What about the girl you’ve become close to.”

“Michele?” Peter paused. “She’s okay, i guess. She’s quite quiet but she hugged me the first day i came back— i think that says how much she likes me.”

“And your home life?” Dr Hart pressed. “How are you coping with your adopted father dating your biological father?”

“When you put it that way, you make it sound weird,” Peter frowned, wrapping his arms over his chest.

“How else would you like me to put it?” His therapist frowned gently. “Isn’t that exactly the case of your family’s situation?”

Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Dad and Steve are fine,” he replied with ease. “They’re officially dating now.”

“And the joint custody papers are still being filed?”

“Yes.”

“How do you feel about that?”

Peter shrugged. “Fine, i guess. Steve is my biological father anyway, he deserves rights over me.”

“But how do you feel Peter?” Dr Hart sighed. “Just because Steve deserves rights doesn’t mean you have to be naturally okay with it. You’re facing a lot of change— ignoring the traumatic side of the past few months, you also found out who your biological father is someone who you considered a friend and is dating the only other father figure you’ve ever known.”

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” Peter wrapped his arms tighter around himself. “I’m fine with it— Steve is nice and he’s good for my Dad. I like him. Yeah it’s weird that he’s my biological father and neither of us really know how to act around each other anymore but him being my father doesn’t make Dad any less my Dad.”

“No one said that Steve’s role makes Tony less your Dad, Peter,” Dr Hart almost looked as if he were excited about the sudden breakthrough. “Do you worry about that?”

Peter shook his head sharply.

The glimmer of excitement left Dr Hart’s eyes. “Moving towards a more. . . deeper topic— how are you sleeping, Peter? Are you still experiencing nightmares?”

How did you explain to someone who could never understand the trauma you went through that nightmares were just a given at this point? Whether it was Petrov’s voice whispering in his ear or the paralysis or the sight of the dead bodies littering the floor, Peter was sure he hadn’t had a decent night sleep since he’d gotten back.

“They’ve gone,” he lied again. He wasn’t sure why he lied. He didn’t know why he didn’t just open up and tell his therapist that sometimes he jolted awake at night in a state of panic as the sound of a gunshot rung in his ears.

Dr Hart obviously didn’t believe him. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Peter shrugged. “I sleep well every night.”

“I think the under eye bags tell a different story,” Dr Hart sighed. “Look Peter—“

“I’m fine,” the young boy rolled his eyes. “Really, i am. I don’t know why my Dad insists i come see you because there is nothing to talk about. I’m really, truly fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” the elder man chuckled, making his wrinkles crease by his eyes. “What you went through was traumatic, Peter—“

“I’m going to be 12 soon,” he shook his head. “I’m not a baby—“

“It isn’t about age,” Dr Hart’s words came across as harsh. “Men triple your age could’ve gone through what you did and suffered the exact same. It doesn’t matter how old you are: trauma is still trauma, Peter. My job is to help you— which i can only do if you actually let me.”

“I don’t need your help,” Peter crossed his arms with a stubborn pout.

Dr Hart sighed, nodding his head gently. “That might be true right now but one day, i’m sure that’ll change.”

Peter hated to think that the man could be right. Instead, he closed his eyes and thought of waterfalls.

——————

Bang.

Peter jolted up in bed, his breathing erratic and sweat rolling off him like he’d just stepped out the shower. It took a second for him to realise that he was, in fact, in his room. The glow of Manhattan ebbed through his curtains casting a dull light on the otherwise pitch black room.

The sound of the gunshot had sounded so real that even to his ears now, Peter expected to see someone standing beside him, gun in hand and a bullet through his bedroom wall.

Like always, no-one was there.

Just like he’d instructed JARVIS after his very first nightmare since getting back from the HYDRA base, the lights in the hallways turned on to a dim setting as Peter padded towards the kitchen. Not that he would ever admit it out loud but Peter knew if he walked in the dark, he wouldn’t even make it halfway down the corridor before panic set in.

What Peter didn’t expect to see when the lights in the kitchen turned on was Bucky, sitting quietly on one of the tall stools drinking a glass of water.

“Isn’t it a bit late for you to be up?” The ex assassin raised an eyebrow as he watched Peter pour himself his own glass of water.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Peter lied. “You?”

“Same here.” Peter wondered if Bucky was lying just like him. Ever since all of the Avengers had returned home, Bucky had withdrawn into himself, shutting himself away from everyone and refusing to join in on any social activities (not that Tony complained).

The only reason the man was living under the same roof as them was because Steve had managed to convince Tony that they couldn’t kick him out nor was it Bucky’s fault what happened that night in December in 1991.

“You wanna talk about it?” Bucky took a small sip of water, looking at Peter as if he wanted to help but was unsure of how to do it.

“About what?”

“You’ve got bags under your eyes darker than your hair, kid,” Bucky sighed. “You’re trembling like crazy and look like you’ve seen a ghost— not to mention you stink because of all the sweat.”

“I’m fine,” Peter mumbled, swishing his water around in his glass. He wished that all the adults in his life could just leave him alone. Why did none of them believe him when he said he was doing okay?

“I see through your lies, kid— i think everyone does.”

“What about you?” Peter frowned. Judging by the uneasiness in Bucky’s eyes and his own dark circles, he seemed to be doing just as well as Peter was himself. “You’re always shutting yourself away— i haven’t had a proper conversation with you since we’ve been back!”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Bucky growled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“All i did that day in the base was make things worse— you got hurt and you almost died-“

“You saved my life,” Peter frowned. “If it weren’t for you i would be some killing machine, forced to do things i didn’t want to do but had no control over, just like. . .” Peter paused.

“Me, you mean,” Bucky sighed. “You’re not wrong. I’ve done terrible things— things i can’t even say out loud. It’s like a terrible dream: you know what’s going on and what you’re doing but you’re powerless to stop yourself from doing it.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Peter whispered, sniffling quietly. “With Dad’s parents. I know he’s mad right now but he does understand— i mean, he’s letting you stay here.”

“Only because Steve is forcing him to.”

Peter couldn’t help but scoff. “You don’t know my Dad, no one can force him to do anything. Part of the reason he’s so extravagant is because his impulses are set to an all-time high. He’s letting you live here because deep down he knows that what happened wasn’t your fault. He’s grieving right now and the situation stings a little but he’ll move on.”

“He’s not the only person i’ve hurt. There were other victims.”

“You know,” Peter took a long gulp of his drink. He watched the way Bucky’s eyes went down like the self-loathing was almost weighing too much to even raise his head a tiny inch. “One of those victims was yourself."

Bucky pondered the boy’s words for a second, letting them move around in his head before they settled. In the dim glow of the kitchen light, his flesh hand wrapped around a cool glass of water, the ex-assassin let himself smile a little.

“For a kid, you’re extremely smart.”

Peter, for the first time in what felt like ages, couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat. “I’ve been told that before.”

——————

“Steve,” Peggy’s voice broke as her eyes trailed over the super-soldiers face with a mix of amazement, happiness yet heartbreak. “You’re back! You came back for me!”

Peter watched as his biological parents conversed, sitting on the hard chair on the opposite side of his mother’s bed. He tried not to feel jealous as Peggy wrapped her hands over Steve’s, a few tears spilling out of her eyes as she looked up to the man she’d once loved.

Currently, this was the 5th time in 2 hours that Peter’s mother had blinked and seemingly forgotten that yes, Steve was back and yes, they had been reunited many times before. It was almost more heartbreaking than the fact that when she looked at Peter— her own son— she would smile and say: ‘aren’t you a handsome boy, and you are?’

“Yeah Peggy,” Steve tried to hold in the tears as he clasped his ex-girlfriend’s hand again for what felt like the thousandth time. “I couldn’t leave my best girl.”

“Oh Steve, i’ve missed you so much!” Peggy sobbed but Peter started to tune her out. It went the same each time they visited: his mother would forget, she’d be ‘reunited’ with Steve, cry a little, cry a lot, say something so Peggy Carter-like that it seemed as if she were her old self again and then she’d forget. It was a continuous cycle that chipped away a little of Peter’s happiness each time it repeated.

“And whose this?” Peggy turned her head away from Steve, looking to her other side where Peter sat with his arms crossed and a trembling lip. “You’re a handsome young boy— do i know you?”

“Uh,” Peter cleared his throat. There were times when he just wanted to nod and say ‘yes, i’m Peter— your son; you know, the one who was kidnapped’ but it seemed everyone (nurses and Steve included) had made the decision that it was better for Peggy to not dredge that up. “I’m Peter Stark— Tony’s son.”

“Anthony!” Peggy’s eyes lit up in a way Peter wished could’ve been towards him. He wished his mother would look at him with the same love (if not more) that she seemed to have towards his Dad. “Is he here? I didn’t know Anthony had a son.”

Peter shook his head, once again clearing his throat. “Uh— no, he couldn’t make it this week because of work.” His Dad had tried extremely hard to get out of the meeting Pepper forced him to go to but by now, everyone should’ve accepted there was no way of getting out of whatever Pepper Potts set up.

Peggy sobered, the light in her eyes diminishing a little. “That’s such a shame, i haven’t seen Anthony since he was a little boy.”

Peter didn’t correct her that she’d seen his Dad just over a fortnight ago when they’d all come to visit.

“So Steve . . .” Peggy turned back to her old flame, eyes once again shining as she talked. Peter knew her slight dismissal of him wasn’t personal— to his mother she didn’t know him. She didn’t know that she should nor that, if it weren’t for her condition, she would be holding Peter close and kissing his head just like she had when he’d been younger and her memory was intact.

Peter ignored the way Steve sent him apologetic glances between Peggy’s ramblings.

He tried to ignore a lot of things as he sat in that uncomfortable chair, listening to the mother who didn’t remember him.

——————

Working in his Dad’s lab was one of Peter’s favourite things to do. He loved how in his element Tony became as he worked, like there were no cares in the world. He loved how serene the space seemed to come and how peaceful it could be to work alongside his Dad in building something Iron Man related.

Peter loved it so much that sometimes, after a particularly bad nightmare when it wasn’t too late to be seen out of bed, he would creep down to the lab and join his Dad for some peace of mind.

This time, however, his Dad’s lab didn’t have the same warm vibe of serenity that Peter had grown to love. Instead of tinkering with some armour, his Dad was sitting in his usual desk chair, hands on his face and a half-drunk bottle of whiskey placed on the table beside him.

“Dad?” Peter tried to steady the wobble that threatened his voice as he crept closer, ignoring the way his eyes strained like he was close to crying. Tony’s head whipped up, taking a second to adjust to Peter’s confused face.

“Pete?” Tony croaked, rubbing a hand over his face harshly as if that would dispel the redness of his eyes and cheeks. “Why’re you up?”

“Bad dream,” Peter knew he couldn’t lie to his Dad. Not right now. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, buddy,” Tony tried to force a smile on his lips but Peter could see through the lies. Just like how he told Dr Hart he was okay, his Dad was trying to do the same now.

“It’s okay Dad,” Peter kept creeping closer until he was standing in front of his Dad. Crawling onto his lap, Peter tried to ignore how his Dad’s breath reeked of alcohol or how his cheeks were wet. “I’m okay now.”

Trembling hands wrapped around Peter’s torso, pulling him in closer. The boy closed his eyes as his head rested on his Dad’s shoulder, letting the man plant soft kisses to his hair as he whispered words in Italian.

“I’m okay now Dad,” Peter continued to mumble into his Dad’s shoulder, hoping the trembling would stop sooner if he kept repeating the words like a mantra. Just like himself, his Dad struggled with letting things go and dealing with trauma in a healthy way (hence why Peter was forced to see a therapist). “I’m safe now.”

Peter wasn’t sure how long his Dad continued to tremble for but he was close to drifting off to sleep when the man took in a deep breath, kissed the top of his head and whispered:

“Ti amo, Peter.”

Ti amo, Dad, Peter whispered in his mind as he finally drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

——————

“You look better Peter,” Dr Hart looked pleased when Peter sat down on his plush, white sofa the next time they had an appointment. With more energy in his body and a few weeks of uninterrupted sleeps, Peter could honestly say he felt better too.

“Thanks,” he smiled shyly, trying hard not to close himself off this time. After months of refusing to talk, Peter guessed now was a good a time as any to actually do what therapy was meant for.

“Have you been sleeping better?”

Peter nodded eagerly. “My nightmares stopped— well, not completely. I don’t know if i told you last session but i found my Dad crying a few weeks ago. I wasn’t meant to— he’d been drinking and he never lets me see him usually when he relapses.”

“That must’ve been hard to witness,” Dr Hart frowns.

“No,” Peter spoke honestly. “I think it was what i needed. For the past few months, ever since i came home, i’ve felt like i was the only one who suffered. I was the only one paralysed and kidnapped. I saw those dead bodies and was almost carbon frozen again— but then i saw my Dad crying and i realised how much he’d suffered too; how much everyone had suffered. They all thought i died. That isn’t something easy to get over.”

“No,” Dr Hart agreed. “It’s not.”

“I spoke to my Dad,” Peter sniffed, trying his best not to cry. “I told him everything: about the nightmares, how it feels when mum forgets me, how i can always hear a gun shot every time i close my eyes.”

“Did it help to talk to him?”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded. “But also no. I still suffer and i still have nightmares sometimes— but at least i’m not alone, right?”

“That’s very true,” Dr Hart looked pleased. “Does Steve help you a lot?”

Peter smirked. “Yeah. Every time i have a nightmare, Steve cooks me pancakes. Even if it’ll be 2am, he’ll still be making the batter.”

“It sounds as if you’re finally allowing yourself to recover,” Dr Hart smiled earnestly. “I’m extremely proud, Peter.”

For the first time in months, Peter allowed himself to actually talk. He told his therapist everything he couldn’t tell his Dad or Steve. He spoke about how terrified he’d been, how he could still hear Petrov’s voice at night, how the darkness reminded him of being paralysed and how sometimes, he was scared these nightmares would never go away.

For the first time in months, Peter left therapy actually feeling better.

——————

“We don’t have to do this buddy,” Tony squeezed his son’s hand as they stood outside Peggy’s hospital room. Steve stood beside them, chewing on his own lip as he looked between the pair. It was the first time they’d gone to see her since Peter admitted how upset it made him to go when she didn’t remember— but after a few weeks now, Peter realised that not seeing his mum almost hurt more.

Peter shook his head, taking in a deep breath. “No, i want— no, i need to see her.”

“If it becomes too much—“

“I know Dad,” Peter nodded, looking up at the worried elder man, smiling gently. “If it becomes too much i’ll say and we can leave. I just want to see her.”

“You’re a brave kid, kiddo,” Tony squeezed his hand once more before reaching for the door, letting it swing open for Peter to enter through first.

“We’re really proud of you Pete,” Steve added, ruffling Peter’s hair gently. The words helped fill the boy with courage as he thought of the heartache that awaited him behind the hospital door.

Despite only having been away for a few weeks, Peggy’s room seemed far lighter than usual. Her curtains were drawn back to allow the sunshine to drift through and there were a bunch of fresh flowers sitting on her bedside table right next to the black and white photo of toddler Peter.

Peggy turned her head as the door swung open, her glazed over eyes settling on Peter as he walked in feeling as if everything was happening in slow-motion.

One second, Peggy was staring at him like she normally did: indifference and slight confusion. In that second Peter wondered if he’d made a mistake and would need more time to understand the fact that his mother’s memory was gone and he would always be nothing more than a stranger to her now.

Then that second passed and something resembling ecstasy and love lit up Peggy’s face. A smile grew from one corner of her mouth to the other, stretching out all the lines and wrinkles that sagged on her skin. Her eyes beamed, glinting in the light as she reached out a frail hand from under the covers of her hospital bed.

“My Peter,” she whispered, contentedness filling her voice as love seemed to flow freely out of her.

Peter couldn’t help the smile that grew on his own face, matching his mother’s. His Dad’s hand on his shoulder squeezed with happiness, and he could feel Steve’s smile as he watched between his ex and his son as Peggy remembered Peter for the first time in years. In that moment, there were no intrusive thoughts about Petrov or gun shots ringing in his mind.

The hole in Peter’s chest closed as his fingers curled into his mother’s, feeling every wrinkle on her skin and the coldness of her palm. With his family surrounding him, all Peter could feel was happiness.

“Hey Mom.”