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"Steve!"

Steve Rogers groaned into his pillow pulling away from the incessant shaking his body was so cruelly receiving at such an ungodly hour.

"Steve, wake up!"

"Mhgah, what?" Steve blinked several times staring at Tony through pinched blue eyes. He glanced at the clock barely able to keep his eyes open in contrast to Tony who was wide eyed and dark hair wild with grease and oil. He smelled vaguely of smoke and coffee.

"Peter's missing."

Steve had to stare at Tony for a moment before narrowing in on the nervous twitch making Tony's body tremor.

"Are you drunk?" His tone was the specific one used on Tony that let the genius know that he was not welcome in bed if he was but Tony didn't care. He was more preoccupied with the missing child than the lecture from his husband at the moment.

"Our son is missing and you think I've been drinking, perfect, Steven. Love you too. We aren't having sex for a month."

Even if Steve did believe Tony could go that long without sex he wouldn't have gotten out of bed any faster. It was too early! Tony stepped back impatiently as Steve swung his legs over the mattress.

"He probably had another nightmare," Steve said reassuringly as he went to the dresser to pull a pair of pants on.

"I think he's been probed," Tony declared.

"What?!" Steve sputtered at the absurdity of Tony's resolution but with a look at his husband he could see the seriousness on his face. Now Steve knew Tony had been drinking which he would deal with later. He stalked out in the hallway, his husband following behind and talking faster than his normal stride.

"Think about it Steve. He's been acting weird for three days now."

"He's five, Tony-"

"He's sulking, Steven, sulking! Teenagers sulk. Not toddlers. I doubt he even knows what sulking is! Our child is nothing but sunshine and rainbows and for the past three days he's sulked and been drawing in his notebook. Our child is turning emo at the age of five! What's next? Huh? I'll tell you what! Drugs and teenage pregnancy and and...cross dressing!" Steve rolled his eyes and opened the door to Peter's room choosing to just to ignore Tony's ranting than respond. True to his word, Peter's bed was empty and after a quick scan Steve couldn't see any sign of the toddler. Flipping the light on he walked into the center of the room looking all around.

"Peter, bud, are you in here?"

Peter had gotten into the habit of hiding after nightmares. Minor ones of course. No, the really bad ones were the ones where either Steve or Tony lost the ability to breath after they had been dive bombed by the five year old in the middle of the night, but the less extreme ones always ended up with Peter sleeping in the bathtub or in his pillow fort. The two waited a moment for a response. When they got none Steve looked around for anything out of place. There was nothing. Tony turned to him expectantly, his brows raised to match his matter of fact frown.

"Did you check with JARVIS," Steve asked scanning the room for any clues. Tony shook his head. Steve checked under the bed and through the closet even so much as peering through the ventilation shaft but he came up empty.

"JARVIS is running a data inspection check. He's offline for another half an hour. Coincidence? I think not!"

It was really to early for Tony's conspiracy theories for Steve who ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. He made his way out of the room, Tony hot on his heels.

"Where are you going?"

"To look for Peter. He's gotta be somewhere in here."

"Unless he was kidnapped and you've already wasted valuable time!"

"Peter knows what to do if something like that happens. His panic button didn't go off and nothing in his room says anyone else was in the room besides us when we went to put him to sleep." Steve glanced over his shoulder and caught the pale panicked look on Tony's face, his deep brown eyes drowning in worry. The blond stopped and made Tony look at him, his irritation suddenly disappearing at his husband's raw expression. "Look, he probably went to hide from his nightmare. I'm sure he's fine. Why don't you go look in your lab? You know he likes to hang out there. And if not there, maybe Bruce's."

Tony nodded and rushed down to the workshop. Steve sighed again before turning on his heel. His searches and calls were unavailing. Nothing in the playroom, nothing in the rec room, nothing in the study/conference room. With each of his searches he began to feel the drapes of sleep leave him and a nervous itch started to fill his gut. He probably fell back asleep in where ever he found himself in Steve thought to calm the panic. Steve made his way into the living room, the wide skyline of New York leaking light in enough for him to see around the furniture. He walked along the windows getting a full view of the room. The light began to play tricks on him and for a moment he thought he had saw Peter curled up on the couch but with further inspection it was only the rumbled uniform of Clint who must have returned home from his mission earlier that night.

Steve foot slammed into the small drawing table by the window and he gasped out before clenching his teeth against a curse. His toe throbbed in pain and he had to bounce away from the table. The notebook full of Peter's drawings fell to the floor and Steve bent down to pick it up, the fast footfalls of Tony echoing through the hallway.

"Anything?"

"No. I asked Bruce and he hasn't seen him either. What happened to you?" Tony tilted his head walking over as Steve grabbed at the crayons on the ground with a swipe of his hand.

"I hit the table."

Tony made a sound at the back of his throat and walked towards the blonde his fists clenching and unclenching in a nervous twitch. He acknowledge the piled uniform on his couch with a jerk of his head.

"Barton come home?"

Steve could only shrug, he was still too asleep to be more in-depth on that detail at the unspoken way they always asked whenever the archer came home, come home meaning should technically be in medical not Stark Tower. He would check Clint out in the morning and send him down to Bruce if necessary. Looking down at the notebook he flipped through the pages of the colorful blobs decorating the pages.

"What's Peter's table doing over here," Steve asked as he studied the pictures with a small smile on his face.

"I don't know. He brought it over here when he started he started planning to runaway from home."

"He didn't runaway from home, Tony," Steve scolded his husband before looking back down at the pictures. There were a bunch of himself and Tony together as their respective superheroes with a lot of Thor and stars, Natasha and spiders, and Bruce's head with a giant green body. The last few pages were devoted to a bunch of birds with sticks and a consecutive page devoted to each of the Avengers' team with a bird and a stick.

"Forget it. I'm calling Fury. I'm calling Black Widow back home and Thor needs to get his ass back on planet. I don't care if-"

"Wait." Steve's brain was whirling too fast for him to keep up. He marveled at how Tony could do this every night as the idea began to form in his head clawing through the deep shadows of sleep deprivation and dancing out in success of the lightbulb. Tony arched a brow at Steve not seeing the dots begin to connect until Steve bit his lip looking at Tony.

"That's either a really unattractive thinking face or you want to have sex and as much as I love you I think you're missing the bigger picture here because our son is missing!"

"I know where he is."

"Wha-What? Where?" Steve's gut was whooping and hollering from the sidelines in a way that just made him walk with a determined march down the hallway and to the bedrooms. Tony was rushing after him still looking confused until they made it to the door he needed. With a press of a button the door opened and the husbands walked into the room and up to the large lofted area that had the largest view of the city skyline. In the middle was a mattress on the floor, the owner hadn't wanted actual furniture, and on the bed was a correlation of deep purple sheets, a large gray down comforter, and the passed out figure of Clint 'Hawkeye' Barton with a perfectly safe Peter curled on his arm. Clint barely looked like he made it to the mattress, his shirt haphazardly clinging to his torso and legs hidden in gray sweat pants. He was snoring and a hand with his shooting glove still on was splayed on his chest with his other extended out to his side pillowing Peter's head.

Steve ushered Tony out of the room knowing the spy would hear them otherwise.

"Clint left for a mission three days ago." Steve explained to Tony's still dumbfounded expression.

"I'm still trying to decide if that's incredibly adorable or just to damn annoying that Barton's gotten to our child and is converting him against us."

"Either way you'll have pictures in the morning I'm sure." Steve gave Tony a peck on the lips before his body pulled back to his bedroom.