Oh my God, he can't be. He can't be like me. "It's not fair."
Peter shifts into the doorway, holding a small pink blanket to his chest. "What's not fair, Papa?"
"Oh, nothing." Bruce quickly looks away from his son.
"Papa?"
"Yes?"
"Please tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Tell me what's wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you, you got that? Go to bed," he says gently.
"But, Papa-"
"Please, Peter. It's time for bed." He walks over and crouches down, putting his arms around the boy. "Don't worry; everything's going to be just fine."
The boy nods, his little mouth spreading into a yawn. He turns around. Bruce gives him a light push in the back, guiding his son to his room.
/
"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this." Tony is slouched over the kitchen table with a bottle of wine.
"He's starting to ask, Tony, and I don't know what to tell him. How could we let this happen?" Bruce takes the seat across from his husband and puts his head in his arms.
"It's alright, Petey's going to be just fine," Tony breathes, smelling of liquor and a bit like cigarettes.
"Tony, have you started smoking again?"
"No, why do you ask?" He takes another swig from the bottle.
"This is not the time to start spiraling," Bruce says seriously.
"Spiraling? Who said anything about spiraling? You're the one who took our son to a radiation lab," Tony snorts, slurring apparent in his voice.
"At your request!" Bruce is incredulous; his voice rises dangerously by the second, and his eyes glowing green instead of their normal dark brown."'Take your son to work, babe. It'll be safe. It'd be nice for him to see what Papa does for a change! In fact, let him see what the Parkers did for a living!'" He spits out his old friends' name like it will remove the lump forming in his throat. "Does any of that sound even remotely familiar?"
"You're the one who was jealous! This whole time you'd been saying it didn't bother you that I was more successful, but then you go and pout about it-"
"Woah, woah, who's pouting? You're the one who wanted to do the whole dad act, but guess what, Tony? If you keep this up, you're only going to become your father!" Or even worse: mine.
Tony stands up quickly, knocking his chair over. "I am not my father." He stabs the words into Bruce's chest with a wavering finger, his eyes livid despite the liquor.
Bruce sees the pain flash in the other man's eyes and immediately feels guilty for what he said.
"Daddy? Papa?" Peter appears in front of them, rubbing his big, round eyes tiredly.
"What are you doing up, sport?" Tony's countenance and tone shift quickly, as not to upset the eight-year-old.
"Why are you fighting?" Peter looks between the two men.
"We're not fighting, Petey." Bruce adopts Tony's silly little nickname for the boy, trying to seem upbeat. "Daddy and I were just having a discussion. Go back upstairs, and I'll come read you a bedtime story." Banner looks at his watch; it's nearly ten-thirty.
Peter obliges, dragging his blanket up the long, winding stairs.
"Oh, God, what have I done…" Bruce lets his head fall to the table's cool surface once Peter has disappeared upstairs.
"It's not your fault, Bruce. Kids get into trouble. They run around and touch things they're not supposed to touch. My father saw that often enough." Tony laughs, closing up the bottle of wine.
Bruce exhales tiredly and kisses Tony lightly on his wine-stained lips. He then treks upstairs to Peter's room, as promised. To Bruce's surprise, Peter seems to be asleep. He turns out the light and begins closing the door.
"Papa?"
Crap. "Yeah?"
"Will you tell me a story? Not from a book."
Bruce steps into the room and sits in a cushiony armchair by the bed. Everything is lit by the moon and city lights, and Bruce can see Peter's delicate features in the shadows. "What story do you want to hear?"
"Tell me more about my parents."
Bruce slides his hand down his face and lets out a deep sigh. Now is as good a time as any. He takes a deep breath in a sort of preparation. "Once upon a time, when your mom and dad worked with me at the lab, some very mean people showed up. They wanted to steal things. Information, chemicals, things like that." He hesitates. "Your parents fought the bad people so they didn't get what they wanted. It cost them their lives." Bruce sighs again.
"Did you help?"
"Yes, I did."
"Did Mr. Hulk help?"
Bruce smiles. "Yes, Mr. Hulk helped."
/
"Where's my mom and dad?" Peter whimpers.
"They're gone." Tears burn behind Bruce's eyes.
"Are they coming back?"
"No, Peter. They're not." He lifts the small boy and hugs him to his chest. "I'm sorry."
/
When Bruce comes back downstairs, Tony is passed out on the couch in a nearby living room of their large penthouse apartment. Bruce opens the bottle of wine – which is now half empty – and takes a swig. He sets it back down on the table, grimacing at the bitter taste. Banner decides not to wake the sleeping billionaire, and instead begins cleaning the kitchen before heading to bed himself. This is not a good night to stay up tinkering, and it's not like he's going to get Tony's help.
After staring at the ceiling for a while, Bruce falls asleep. Most nights, he doesn't dream – or he doesn't remember – but when he does, it's always the same. He's in his lab – the one he used back in the day, and the one he uses when he isn't working with the Avengers. Richard Parker is there. It's the day of the attack. It had been Rick's day off, but Bruce had needed some extra help with the spider project. The spies – or whatever you want to call them – always come in the same way. It's two men and one woman, and they have guns and start giving orders. Richard just keeps saying "Get back, I can handle this." Bruce protests, and then he can feel the Other Guy beginning to take on his body. It's almost seamless – as it sometimes is. That's the worst part, really. Not only is he not in control, but it's almost natural. Like that's how he should be instead of human – instead of who he always thought himself to be. It's worse than just being exposed. After that, he can't remember anything else from the attack – even as he relives it over and over and over again. Bruce needs to know what really happened.
/
"Okay, Petey. One more time." Tony crouches down a few feet away from his son. "Focus." They're both standing in the offset laboratory in the middle of what Tony calls a training session. Reminds him of the good old days when he first starting building suits.
Peter closes one eye and his tongue protrudes slightly.
Tony rolls his eyes. "Okay, no. Both eyes open. Face the target."
The boy re-adjusts, concentrating on a small target hanging from Dummy, one of Tony's A.I. machines. He shoots web from his wrist that somehow manages to miss the target completely and hits one of many Mark editions, which teeters and falls onto another suit, causing a domino effect. "Oops..."
Tony sighs, though he's impressed by his son's abilities. "That's... okay. I'll clean it up later."
The lab door opens. "Everything alright down there?" Bruce calls from upstairs.
"Yeah, everything's fine!" Tony answers, then lowers his voice. "This is our little secret, okay?"
Peter nods.
"Dinner's ready! Oh, and Wade's eating over."
"Yay!" Peter races upstairs, and Tony follows.
The three of them and Wade Wilson sit at the kitchen table. It's taco night, and Wade is more than pleased. With his mouth stuffed with food, he enthusiastically raves about the food to anyone listening; his hyperactivity is getting the best of him.
Bruce grins to himself, then glances over at Tony, who is picking out the lettuce and tomatoes and laying them to the side. Banner rolls his eyes.
"Pass the hot sauce?" Tony asks Peter.
Peter reaches over the table and web flies from his wrist, latching onto the bottle of Sriracha.
Everyone stops eating - even Wade, who breaks the stunned silence. "Woah..." He stares, his eyes gleaming. "That is so cool!"
Peter tries to shake the bottle from his hand. It's stuck.
"Let's go... try to get that off, huh, buddy?" Bruce stands up, taking Peter's upper arm in his grip. He leads his son over to the bathroom and turns on the water. Peter stands on a step stool as Bruce runs the warm water over his tiny wrist.
"It's hot."
"Oh. Sorry." Bruce lets a little cold water run as he peels the web off. He sighs. "Try not to do that when people are around, though, okay?"
"Why not?"
"Because... people wouldn't understand... how special you are."
"Is that why you don't let Mr. Hulk out in public?"
Bruce frowns thoughtfully and bobs his head. "Kind of."
They go back to the kitchen, and Bruce hands Tony the bottle with the label now completely peeled off.
"Thanks..." Tony trails off, examining the bottle.
/
After dinner, the two boys head upstairs. Wade sits down at the computer in Bruce's office. There are papers everywhere, so Peter scoots a stack over and pushes another chair beside his friend. "I want to show you... hold on." Wade's little fingers plunge away at the keys, typing too quickly for Peter to process anything. "This is what happened in New York before you were born." The video on the screen begins playing; Peter recognizes his "uncle" Steve, aunt Natasha, Thor, weird uncle Clint... "Hey, that's my dad! Where's Papa..."
"Wait for it..."
A big, green monster-like creature flashes on the screen. The camera has trouble remaining steady. The thing roars. Wade pauses the video on a close-up of it.
"There."
"That's..." Peter whispers.
"That. Is the Hulk. Isn't he cool?" Wade turns to Peter in excitement. Peter can't stop staring at the screen. "I wish my dad was as cool as yours."
"Yeah..." He says faintly. "Cool."
"They say he only transforms when he's angry, and I think that's just awesome," Wade beams.
Peter nods solemnly. So that's why he doesn't let it out in public...
/
Wade sleeps over that night, snoring on the floor of Peter's bedroom.
Tony and Bruce are sitting in the living room, in the middle of an actual discussion.
"His father reminds me of - well you know who he reminds me of."
"He's not a drunk, Bruce."
"You saw him on a good day. I get to work with him from time to time. You'd think he'd be grateful after signing his kid up for our experimentation. I mean, it's working. Yet he still acts like we're a bunch of Tanzanian witch doctors or something. He's getting money out of the deal, too."
/
A five-year-old blond boy steps into a large laboratory, holding the hand of who is presumably his father, while the other is being used to stick his thumb into his little mouth.
Bruce greets the gruff gentleman first. "Mr. Wilson." They shake hands. The scientist crouches down. "Hello, I'm Dr. Bruce."
"I'm Wade," the boy mumbles, still sucking his thumb. His big, blue eyes stare at Bruce in fear. "Why don't you go over to Dr. Rick. He'll get you set up, okay?"
Wade nods and releases himself from his father's firm grip.
"Dr. Banner, I trust y'all will take care of my boy?"
"Of course. You're aware of all the procedures, right?"
"If I wasn't, d'ya think I'd send him into a lab like this'un if I didn't?"
"Right." Bruce's lips twist into a frown. "Well, we'll be in touch then."
"Uh-huh." Mr. Wilson walks toward the door. "You be good, boy. Ya hear?"
Bruce wasn't quite sure if he was talking to his son or the doctor himself. Brushing that all aside, he walks over to Rick and Wade. "So, are we doing chemo today, or..."
"I thought we could start out with a couple of tests. How does that sound, little man?"
Wade nods again.
"Good, now I'll just plug you up to this machine. It's going to be cold, so puff your chest out like a big muscle guy..."
Banner watches as Richard attaches electrodes to the boy's pale chest. He's too young for this, Bruce thinks sadly. As long as everything goes according to plan, he'll be good and healthy in no time.
/
"Okay, now this time, aim for me." Tony holds up a metal shield, protecting the spot an electromagnet used to fill. If only Steve could see him now.
"Are you sure I should be-"
"What did I tell you? Now, look at me. Focus." Tony positions himself behind his shield.
Peter stares at the sheet and aims. Web shoots out of the device on his wrist that he helped Tony put together, but instead of hitting the shield, the elastic substance latches onto Tony's face. Stark stumbles back, clawing at his face, unable to breathe.
"Papa!" Peter screams.
Bruce bounds down the stairs. "What in the w- Tony!" Bruce grabs his husband by the collar and drags him over to the counter. He takes a scalpel-like rod and carefully carves away at the film. It's surprisingly thick. He peels the web away, revealing Tony's wide eyes and gasping mouth.
"This is not going to work." Bruce pulls away and takes Peter's hand in his. "Come on, let's go upstairs. I've got some phone calls to make."
Tony slides down against the cabinets, trying to regain composure. That's one way to bring some shit back from the deep end.
/
"Mutant camp? You've got to be kidding me."
"I'm not."
"Bruce-"
"You saw went on down there. You want that to happen again?"
"No, but-"
"Look, this is a good way for him to gain some more control. It's two weeks, and he'll be home on weekends. All I need is Wade's father's approval so that he can go too. He keeps calling it 'camp for circus freaks'."
Tony sits up a little taller; that struck a nerve. "Do you want me to talk to him?"
Bruce smiles and shakes his head. "I think I can handle it."
"Ororoe Monroe. What kind of name is that?"
"She prefers Storm, I think. She's the head of the X-Men operation. Nice woman, I met her once. She took over for Xavier back in the day. She's the one who gave us the blood donation for Wade."
"From that Wolverine guy."
"Yeah, you'd like him. He's kind of like you."
Tony glares at Bruce then rolls his eyes. "He's an ass."
"Hey, you said it – not me." Bruce chuckles, holding up his hands in defense.
/