Chapter Text
Peter had always thought he had lived something close to a normal kid’s life, or at least as normal as his life could ever be. It was different—way different—from the life any other normal kid, or even most adults, could ever imagine, but somehow, in its own strange way, it had always been a good life.
For starters, Peter had never known his birth parents. He had never known their names, never seen their faces, never known what they looked like, what their voices sounded like, or even whether they were still alive somewhere in the world or had been gone for years. There had been no answers waiting for him, no photographs tucked away in a drawer, and no family stories passed down from one generation to the next. And honestly, Peter didn’t think he had ever cared as much as people might have expected him to. Maybe that was because he had been only a baby when he was brought to Saint Agnes, the orphanage in Hell’s Kitchen that became the only home he had ever known.
He had grown up there beneath the watchful eyes of the nuns, learning his prayers, learning the ways of the Lord, and learning what it meant to have faith even when life didn’t always make sense. More than anyone else, there had been Sister Margaret—Granny Maggie to him—his nun caretaker, the woman who had practically raised him, stood beside him, comforted him when he was frightened, scolded him when he got into trouble, and made sure he never felt completely alone. Father Lantom had been part of that life too, another familiar face in the small world Peter knew.
Between the walls of Saint Agnes and the people who lived and worked there, Peter had everything he needed. It was the only world he understood, the only place he had ever truly belonged. And even though there had always been a small, quiet part of him that wished someone would come for him—someone who would finally adopt him—he never imagined just how completely his life would change when that wish finally came true.
When Peter was four and a half years old, he was adopted, but not by some ordinary family living an ordinary life. No, somehow, Peter had ended up with a family that was about as far from ordinary as a family could possibly get. His new family was strange, complicated, dysfunctional at times, and completely unlike anything he had ever imagined, but somehow, it was dysfunctional in the best possible way.
One of his dads was Tony Stark, a famous inventor, billionaire, genius, and philanthropist whose name was known around the world. His other dad was Steve Rogers, a man who had been born in the 1930s, transformed into a super soldier, fought Nazis during World War II, and somehow survived decades frozen in ice before waking up in a world he barely recognized.
And then there was the part that still sounded completely ridiculous whenever Peter actually stopped to think about it.
He hadn’t simply been adopted by Tony and Steve. He had been adopted into the Avengers. His family was made up of superheroes. Actual superheroes. People who saved the world, fought aliens, battled monsters, stopped terrorists, and somehow still argued over breakfast, left things lying around the Tower, teased one another, and acted like a weirdly oversized family whenever the world wasn’t ending.
Peter had sometimes wondered how on earth his life had gone from sleeping in a room at Saint Agnes and dreaming about having parents to waking up in Avengers Tower surrounded by some of the most extraordinary people on the planet. But somehow, despite all of that, it had never felt completely strange to him.
It had simply become his life.
And now, at sixteen, Peter was living a life he could only describe as good—better than good, really. He had never once felt the need to question the life that had been given to him when he was four and a half years old. Why would he?
He had Tony and Steve. He had the Avengers. He had a home, a family, people who loved him, people who would come running if he ever needed them, and memories that belonged entirely to him.
Saint Agnes would always be part of who he was, and Granny Maggie and Father Lantom would always have a place in his heart, but his life had moved forward. Peter Parker was happy. He had everything he had ever wanted, even if he had never realized just how much he had wanted it in the first place.
So, as far as Peter was concerned, there was nothing left to wonder about. His past was his past. His family was his family. His life was exactly where it was supposed to be. At least, that was what Peter believed.
But it still would be nice to get some more damn sleep.
Peter jolted when he heard a sudden knock at the door, his head lifting for only a moment before the heaviness of exhaustion seemed to drag it right back down. His entire body felt as though it had been chained in place and anchored to the mattress, every muscle stubbornly refusing to cooperate with the simple idea of getting up. He felt like he had absolutely no reason to move from this spot, especially when the warmth of his blankets and the softness of his pillow were practically begging him to stay. Another knock came, a little louder this time, and Peter groaned sluggishly before grabbing his pillow and shoving it over his head in a desperate attempt to shut out the morning.
“Peter! Champ, get up! You are going to be late for school!”
Peter stared sleepily toward the door from beneath the edge of his pillow, his eyes barely open as he moaned tiredly and turned his head toward the clock. The glowing numbers read 7:00 a.m., and Peter immediately sighed deeply, already feeling like the day had started far too early. He rolled onto his side and stared toward the window, where the pale golden sunlight of dawn was beginning to spill through the curtains and brighten his room. The light caught the edge of his Spider-Man mask lying on the floor beside the bed, the familiar red fabric looking almost strangely out of place in the quiet morning.
“Bud, don't make me come in there and yank you out.”
Peter's eyes blinked several times, forcing themselves open even though every part of him seemed determined to close them again. A tired little smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he finally recognized the voice.
“Okay, Dad, okay I'm coming.”
As much as Peter wanted to stay exactly where he was, buried beneath his blankets and completely surrendered to sleep, he knew he had to get up. Somehow, he had to survive the morning. Hopefully, he could survive. With another exhausted groan, Peter slowly pushed himself upright, his sore and weary body protesting the movement almost immediately. He sat there for a moment with his head tilted back toward the ceiling, taking a deep breath as he tried to convince himself that standing up was actually worth it. Eventually, he forced himself onto his feet, grabbed what he needed, and made his way toward the bathroom.
The moment he stepped inside, Peter sighed deeply and turned on the faucet. Cold water rushed into the sink, and he immediately splashed his face with as much of it as he could, hoping the shock would force his brain into functioning. For a few seconds, he simply stood there with water dripping from his face and down his neck before finally looking up and meeting his own reflection in the mirror. The dark rings beneath his eyes were impossible to miss, making him look even more exhausted than he felt.
Peter sighed again.
He definitely looked like he needed more sleep.
Still, he had a school day ahead of him, and Spider-Man or not, apparently being sixteen meant he still had to get ready for school. He started preparing for the day as quickly as he could, removing his Spider-Man suit and getting himself cleaned up before brushing his teeth and running a brush through his messy hair. He dressed himself while repeatedly trying to convince his reflection that he looked awake and ready for the day, even though his heavy eyelids and exhausted expression told an entirely different story. He was just finishing up when his enhanced hearing suddenly picked up familiar footsteps approaching from outside his room.
Peter froze.
His heightened senses immediately recognized his Pop coming down the hallway with his dad, and a second later, he heard the faint movement of the door handle. His head snapped toward it, and his eyes widened when he suddenly noticed his Spider-Man mask still lying on the floor. He looked down and then toward the rest of his Spider-Man suit, realizing he had forgotten to put everything away properly.
“Oh, crap.”
Peter quickly moved, grabbing the mask and suit before the door began to open.
Tony and Steve stepped inside together, both of them wearing amused smiles when they saw Peter sitting on the edge of his bed. The room was mostly tidy now, and the bathroom light had been turned off, leaving the soft morning light from the windows to fill the space.
“Morning, kiddo,” Steve greeted.
Peter looked up at them, and despite how exhausted he felt, a smile immediately appeared across his face.
“Oh, morning Pop! Good morning, Dad!”
Tony grinned as he looked Peter over, his eyes narrowing slightly when he noticed something on the side of Peter's face. “Well, looks like someone had a bit of sleep, judging by the still case of dried drool on the side of your face.”
Peter stared at his dad for a second before slowly raising a hand to his cheek. His fingers brushed against the rough, crusty remains, and his expression immediately shifted when he realized Tony was right. A tired chuckle escaped him as he gave an embarrassed grin. “Heh...I uh...missed a spot.”
Tony's grin widened, but before Peter could say anything else, Steve gave him a look that was both patient and amused.
“Well, hurry up if you want to eat your breakfast, Peter. You are going to be late.”
Peter nodded, rubbing his tired eyes as he glanced toward the doorway. “I'll be right out.”
The door closed behind Tony and Steve, and Peter's enhanced hearing immediately picked up their footsteps moving farther down the hallway. He could hear the familiar sounds of the Tower waking around them as well—the distant movement of people, voices carrying faintly through the enormous building, and the subtle hum of machinery and technology that seemed to be a permanent part of life in Avengers Tower. Somewhere downstairs, his family was already gathering for breakfast, and Peter could practically imagine them waiting for him.
Peter let out another exhausted sigh and allowed himself to fall backward onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress as he stared up at the ceiling.
Uh...I wish I could just rest here.
For several seconds, he didn't move. Then, with another reluctant sigh, Peter lifted his pillow and found the folded Spider-Man suit and mask underneath it. Apparently, in his exhausted state, he had shoved them there without even remembering doing it. He slowly sat back up and gathered the suit, stuffing it into his backpack before zipping it shut.
Then he felt something sticky along the side of his mouth.
Peter paused.
He wiped at the spot with his fingers and looked at them.
“Oh, man, this is dried drool!”
He groaned, immediately wiping at the stubborn spot with considerably more force until he was satisfied that he had finally gotten rid of it. After one last glance around his room, Peter grabbed his backpack and headed toward the stairs.
The moment he stepped into the hallway, the bright morning light pouring through the enormous windows of Avengers Tower seemed to hit him directly in the eyes. Peter squinted hard, his already exhausted senses making the brightness feel almost painfully intense after the dimness of his bedroom. The sounds of the Tower seemed louder now too, especially with his enhanced hearing picking up conversations and movement from different parts of the building.
It was a brand-new day.
Another school day.
Another day of being Peter Rogers-Stark.
And, somewhere underneath the exhaustion, the sleepiness, and his desperate desire to crawl back into bed, Peter couldn't help but smile. At least, he tried. He reached the bottom of the stairs, looked toward the familiar faces of his family, and greeted them with a tired but genuine grin. “Morning, guys!”
Everyone was surrounding the table, and they were already gazing at the kid who Steve and Tony had adopted. The large kitchen was filled with the familiar sounds of breakfast: plates clinking against the table, silverware scraping softly against dishes, quiet conversations overlapping one another, and the occasional sound of someone laughing. Morning sunlight spilled through the windows, casting a warm glow across the room and making the Avengers Tower feel almost like an ordinary family home instead of the headquarters of some of the world's greatest heroes.
Sam smirked. “You still have dried drool on your face, Peter.”
Peter groaned, wiping his face with the back of his hand before grinning at his adopted uncle. He was still struggling to feel fully awake, his eyes heavy and his body carrying the lingering weight of the restless night. “Thanks a lot.”
Sam gave him a playful wink while lifting his cup of coffee. “No problem, buddy.”
Peter glanced around the table before his eyes landed on Thor. Despite still being half-asleep, a small grin appeared on his face. “What about Uncle Thor? His hair is a mess.”
Thor stared at his wild hair for a moment before turning back toward his mortal adopted nephew and huffing proudly. “Oh, now, Peter, I am not sure what you mean by that. It is how I look every day.”
He then walked over to Peter with a mischievous smirk. Peter gave a small chuckle, already knowing what was coming. “But look at your hair. It is messy. It needs a bit of a spot right here. And here. And here. And here,” he claimed, rubbing and ruffling Peter's head as he moved his fingers through his already-messy hair.
Peter laughed, trying to get away from him while still fighting off another yawn. “Uncle Thor, cut it out! My hair is fine! Stop it! It is nice-looking! It is not a mess! Knock it off!”
He stepped closer, now using both hands as Peter tried to escape the Asgardian's relentless attempt to rearrange his hair. “But you don't have the Viking Asgardian spirit, Peter. You need it like you used to when you were young. Like how, the many times when we would do your hair, you wanted it to be wild like me.”
Peter laughed again, though his tiredness made his movements a little slower than usual. “Uncle Thor, cut it out already! I now think I am looking more presentable!”
Clint then stepped forward and joined in, using his hands to ruffle Peter's hair even more.
Peter immediately tried to get away from him, nearly stumbling as he turned. “Gah! Uncle...Clint!”
Clint grinned innocently. “Why? What's the matter? We are just going to give you a makeover.”
Peter shook his head, trying to straighten his hair while the others laughed. There were so many things that had happened since his dad and pop had brought him here to live in Avengers Tower. He had grown up surrounded by the people he had once looked up to as heroes, only to eventually have them become his adopted family. They were the people he ate breakfast with, the people who teased him, the people who watched over him, and the people he knew he could always come home to. The X-Men and the Fantastic Four were some of the greatest heroes he knew, too, but the Avengers were his family. So many things had happened for a reason, and there were still so many things waiting to happen that Peter could never have expected.
Tony finally stepped forward, giving the others an amused but protective look. “Alright, guys, step away from my boy, or you have to face me.”
Clint immediately smirked and stepped back, raising both hands in surrender. “Yes, sir.”
Thor grinned. “Oh, but of course, Tony.”
Peter laughed as he straightened his hair with both hands, trying to make himself look somewhat presentable again. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Now hurry up and eat your breakfast,” he said, his tone carrying its usual teasing edge.
Peter barely had time to react before he felt Tony's hand ruffle his hair again.
“Dad! Cut it out!”
Tony simply smirked with a quiet huff before walking away, leaving Peter to shake his head and fix his hair once more.
Peter then walked toward the table, finally taking his place among the others. As he sat down, he smiled when he felt a kiss from his aunt Natasha.
“Morning, tiger.”
He smiled tiredly. “Morning, Aunt Nat.”
Natasha studied him for a moment. Her eyes immediately noticed what the others had already seen: the tiredness beneath his eyes, the slightly sluggish movements, and the way he seemed to be forcing himself to stay awake. “Trouble sleeping, tiger? You look tired.”
Peter gave a little chuckle and rubbed one of his eyes before sitting up straighter. “Oh, uh...yeah. Working on my homework and studying. School stuff. Only school stuff. It is a curse.”
Yes, a curse alright. Being bitten by a damn radioactive spider and being sick for a few days, only to wake up with abilities like shooting webs like a spider, crawling on walls like a spider, and having this strange ability to hear things all around him. That was the one thing he had gotten after meeting that strange old man at school when he was nine years old. It was strange that he had never seen him again, especially after the man had told him that they would see each other again.
What was his name? Stick...yes.
Peter had always wondered what happened to him. But that was not the only thing he kept to himself. There was also the fact that he had been trying to become a hero himself. Peter had grown up listening to his dads' stories and begging to hear more about his family's battles, their enemies, and the things they had conquered. He had always listened closely whenever they told those stories, especially when he was younger, when the heroes around him had seemed larger than life. Now, even though he was surrounded by them every day, there were still stories and secrets that remained just out of his reach.
Bucky looked at him from across the table. “You didn't have that much homework last night.”
Peter turned his face toward him and laughed, trying to sound casual despite the exhaustion pulling at him. “Oh, yeah. I had a lot to work on and study. It takes a lot.”
Steve settled a plate on the table in front of Peter. “Well, you better have your energy and start your day.”
Peter nodded as he began digging into his breakfast, grateful for the food despite how tired he felt. The warmth from the meal helped wake him up a little, and he took a sip of his milk before looking around the table.
T'Challa asked with a grin, “Well? Are you going to ask MJ out?”
Peter immediately gulped. His cheeks grew warm, and he giggled shyly. “Oh, uh...yeah. If we don't have any... interruptions, we might go out.”
Clint grinned. “Oh, really? You going to try to use your charms I taught you?” he winked.
Peter grinned, while the others stared at the archer. “Yeah, Uncle Clint, and Ned tried it, and all he got was the girl walking away. And he froze.”
Clint continued grinning as though that only proved his point. “He got to learn the moves, and you got them. You got to get in the groove.”
T'Challa added, “Yes, and I would rather stand there and run and for me to hide.”
Bruce looked toward Clint with an amused expression. “We already do hide from you.”
Clint glared at him. “You are just jealous that I am more charming than you are.”
Steve grinned from where he sat. “But not as charming as a guy who takes a bath and then smooth-talks at himself from the mirror.”
Peter's tired expression broke into another laugh.
Clint looked offended for only a moment before recovering his confidence. “That is a gift to make a charm charming.”
Peter laughed, sipping his glass of milk as the familiar banter continued around the table.
Then Sam added, “Who is this spider guy?”
Peter immediately froze.
For a brief second, the sounds around the breakfast table seemed to fade into the background. His fingers tightened slightly around his fork, and his tired eyes remained fixed on his plate. He could hear the quiet clinking of silverware, the hum of the Tower's systems, and the voices of the others around him, but all he could focus on was the newspaper sitting on the table.
“I don't know. He is out when there are others who are not at,” Natasha said, looking at the paper. “But he does have moves or something.”
Peter stared at his aunt, trying desperately to keep his expression neutral.
Tony glared at the paper, his eyes narrowing as he read the article. “Vigilante. Heh, a wise hero he is.”
Peter then stared at his dad and frowned, lowering his gaze as he tried to hide his uneasiness behind his breakfast.
“Well, this Jonah Jameson is calling him so many names. Spider-Man menace. Spider-Man criminal. He even accused this Spider-Man of helping a pair of thugs rob a bank at night,” Bruce added. “But people are saying he is a hero. He even got fans,” he said with a small smirk.
Peter frowned. He couldn't believe they were talking about him like this. Heck, they have been talking about him like this since the first word of Spider-Man came out. He knew what people were saying. He had heard the name Jonah Jameson before, and he knew exactly how much the man hated Spider-Man. But hearing his own family discuss the mysterious masked hero while he sat right there was making his stomach twist.
Peter quickly stood up and grabbed his backpack, where the identity of the so-called Spider-Man menace was hidden.
“Uhh...I'm ready to go to school. I'll see you guys later. If you are all still here.”
Everyone looked at him as he began to leave, but Steve immediately noticed that Peter had barely touched the rest of his breakfast.
“You are not finished with your breakfast.”
Peter stopped and turned around with a smile that was just a little too forced. “Oh, uh, I have to go to school. I...I kind of promised Harry and Ned I would help with their studying before school, and I don't want to be late.”
Tony then stood, taking one last sip of his coffee before setting the cup down. “Alright, I'll drive you.”
Peter shook his head quickly. “I can walk.”
Tony shook his head, giving him a stern glare, but Steve spoke before his husband could say anything. “Oh, we talked about this, Peter. You are not walking. With thugs and all and this Spider-Man...we're driving you.”
Peter groaned, giving them a stubborn grin as he stood his ground. “Dad. Pop. I am sixteen years old. I can survive. And I am tough. Like you all.” He puffed out his chest, trying his best to look serious despite the tiredness still visible on his face. “I am your son, Captain America and Iron Man.”
Tony and Steve both smirked.
Steve then reached forward and poked Peter right in the center of his stomach.
Peter immediately dropped his tough-guy posture with a surprised squeak, followed by a burst of laughter.
Tony laughed as he reached over and ruffled Peter's hair. “It is so good that you still have that spot.”
Peter laughed, straightening his hair again. “Me and your father are driving you,” Tony claimed.
Peter sighed in surrender and nodded. “Okay. Bye, Aunt Nat. Bye, guys.”
Natasha suddenly stood up and marched toward him. “Hey, hold it, tiger. What about my kiss?”
Peter stopped and looked at her before a smirk spread across his face. He gave in and leaned over so she could give him a kiss.
But the moment the others saw what was happening, their expressions changed.
Sam and Clint exchanged amused looks.
“What about us, Pete? Can we give you a kiss?” Clint mocked, puckering his lips dramatically.
Sam grinned. “Give me a kiss too, Pete. I'm ready.”
Thor then leaned forward with an exaggerated coo. “Mmm...give your Uncle Thor a kissy.”
Peter's eyes widened as he realized exactly what was happening. He laughed and tried to back away. “Uncles, stop! No! No!”
Bucky grinned as he joined the others. “Oh, come on, Peter. Give us a kiss like you used to. I'm waiting.”
Bruce smirked, holding his arms out wide. “Yeah. Come on, Pete. Give Uncle Brucey a kissy on my facey.”
Peter laughed harder as he looked around and realized they were surrounding him. His backpack bounced against his shoulder as he tried to find an escape route. “No! Get away!”
T’Challa grinned. “Don’t fret, Peter. You always love our kisses. You would even love my panthers back in Wakanda licking you, and you’d fill the palace with your giggles, especially when you’re with Shuri and Mother. Come on, give me a kiss first.”
He suddenly raced toward the elevator doors, which were already waiting for him at the end of the room. “Pop, Dad, hurry! Get me out of here!”
Tony and Steve stood off to the side, both wearing amused smirks as they watched their son attempt to escape the affectionate ambush.
Tony raised an eyebrow. “Oh, are you sure? You seem to be enjoying it.”
Steve grinned, his arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah. You used to like them giving you kisses and kissing you back. You're being worshipped, buddy.”
“Guys!”
Bucky and the others stepped back as Tony and Steve finally reached the elevator. Peter giggled, his laughter filling the hallway, while everyone else smirked.
Clint grinned. “Okay, Peter. I’m going to get that kiss.”
Thor nodded. “Yeah. When you come back, I’ll get mine.” He then made a kissy face and exaggeratedly smacked his lips.
Peter laughed. “Goodbye, Uncles and Aunt Natasha!”
The elevator doors slid open, and Peter practically rushed inside, with Tony and Steve following behind him.
Peter’s adopted uncles grinned and waved. “Bye, Peter!”
The doors closed, finally separating him from the laughter and teasing still coming from the breakfast table.
Peter let out a long breath and leaned against the elevator wall, adjusting the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. His hair was still slightly messy from Thor, Clint, and Tony's earlier attempts to fix it, and his eyes felt heavier than they had only a few minutes ago.
Tony glanced at him. “You good, kid?”
Peter glanced over and nodded, though another yawn escaped him before he could stop it. “Yeah. I'm good, Dad. Just tired.”
Steve gave him a knowing look. “You sure you don't want to get some more sleep?”
Peter shook his head. “No. I'm fine.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “You said that while yawning.”
Peter looked at him and gave a small smile. “I can be tired and fine at the same time.”
Tony smirked. “Fair point.”
Steve smirked. “Heh, you got a point. When we come back from our missions, you be snoring. Loud.”
Peter snickered, and Tony glanced at his husband and son.
“And you be drooling more than Peter.”
Steve grinned.
Peter quickly looked innocent. “I don't know what you mean.”
A few moments later, they reached the parking level. The familiar hum of the Tower's machinery surrounded them as they walked toward Tony's car. Peter climbed into the back seat, dropped his backpack beside him, and immediately leaned his head against the window.
The cool glass felt good against his warm forehead.
Steve got into the passenger seat while Tony climbed behind the wheel. The engine came to life with a low hum, and soon they were pulling out of the Avengers Tower's private entrance and into the morning streets of Manhattan.
Outside, New York was already awake. Cars filled the streets, taxis moved between lanes, pedestrians hurried along the sidewalks, and the distant sounds of horns and sirens blended together beneath the towering buildings. Sunlight reflected off the windows of the skyscrapers, occasionally flashing across Peter's face as they passed through the streets.
Peter watched the city through the window, his tired eyes slowly following the buildings and people passing by.
Tony glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “So, Harry and Ned really need help studying?”
Peter looked toward him. “Yeah.”
Tony's eyebrow lifted.
Peter sighed. “Okay, maybe not as much as I said.”
Steve turned slightly in his seat, smiling. “Peter.”
Peter gave him an innocent look. “What?”
“You know you don't have to make excuses with us.”
Peter looked down at his backpack. “I know.”
There was a brief silence.
Tony then asked, “Then what will you be doing?”
Peter then gulped and sneaked a little glance at his backpack before replying, “Uhh...I'll be with MJ before school starts. We just hang out for a bit.”
Steve smirked at his husband. “Ahh, love is in the air, isn't it, Tony?”
Tony grinned. “Not a chance.”
Steve smirked. “Yeah. I love you too, babe.”
Peter grinned at his dads.
Tony kept his eyes on the road before briefly glancing at the towering skyscrapers surrounding them. “About that Spider-Man guy...”
Peter's stomach tightened, and he looked toward the window again. “What about him?”
Steve glanced at Tony before looking back toward Peter. “We don't know much about him yet,” Steve said. “But if he's really operating around New York, then you need to be careful.”
Peter swallowed. “Yeah. I will.”
Tony nodded. “Good. Because whatever this guy is doing, swinging around the city in a mask isn't exactly the safest hobby.”
Peter's fingers tightened around the strap of his backpack. “Yeah. Sounds dangerous.”
Tony glanced at him through the mirror. “You sound like you've thought about it.”
Peter's eyes widened slightly. “No. I mean...I just think anybody who does that would have to be pretty crazy. Like you guys.”
Steve smiled faintly. “Probably.”
“Good point,” Tony agreed with a grin.
Peter slowly relaxed against the window again.
For a moment, he listened to the sounds of the city through the glass. His enhanced hearing picked up things the others couldn't: a distant ambulance siren several blocks away, the squeal of brakes somewhere behind them, the rumble of construction equipment, and hundreds of voices blending together into the constant rhythm of Manhattan.
He closed his eyes for a second.
He was tired.
Really tired.
But he couldn't fall asleep. Not now.
He still had school.
He still had homework.
He still had to talk to MJ.
And somewhere beneath all of that was the secret he had been carrying for far longer than anyone realized.
Tony glanced into the rearview mirror again. “You're awfully quiet back there, Pete.”
Peter opened his eyes. “Just thinking.”
“About MJ?” Tony teased.
Peter's face immediately turned red. “Dad!”
Steve laughed.
Tony grinned. “What? I didn't say anything.”
“You totally did.”
Steve shook his head with a smile. “Tony, leave the kid alone.”
“I'm just asking questions.”
Peter sank lower into his seat. “I hate you guys sometimes.”
Tony smiled. “No, you don't.”
Peter couldn't help but smile back. “No. I don't.”
Steve smiled. “We know.”
*****
The car continued through the busy streets of Manhattan, carrying Peter toward school. The familiar city streets gradually gave way to the neighborhood surrounding his school, and before long, Tony pulled up near the entrance.
Peter looked out the window at the students gathering around the front of the building, backpacks hanging from their shoulders as they talked among themselves before the school day began.
Tony shifted the car into park. “We're here.”
Peter reached for his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He opened the door, but before stepping out, he looked back at his dads. “Bye, Dad. Bye, Pop.”
Steve smiled. “Have a good day, kiddo.”
Tony pointed at him. “And don't forget, you're supposed to be studying.”
Peter grinned. “I know.”
He stepped out of the car and closed the door behind him. Tony and Steve watched as Peter adjusted his backpack and started toward the school entrance, disappearing into the crowd of students.