Author's Note:
So, this was originally only posted on tumblr, but why? Why not throw it around? This story is indeed my hoe after all.
Enjoy :D
ChapterOne: What I've alwaysknown
From when he was a child, Peter didn't know what he wanted to be, but understood who he was meant to be.
"Again!" Natasha snapped, her spit visible under the light. Her sweat was running down her face in streams. It made her mascara run as if she were crying, though everyone knew she certainly wasn't. The sweat made her hair wet and the only way she could breathe was to pant. Peter watched as a line of sweat slid down her cheek. In a smirk, she licked it off. Peter thought that was the scariest she could ever look: hungry.
At age six, Peter sat on one of the metal chairs as Natasha circled Clint in the boxing ring. This was one of his father's, Steve's, favorite places to train. It looked vintage, down to the lockers and the old inspirational posters of men working out. He came here looking for him, but ended up being lured in by the action.
Clint and Natasha played a game. They would place three sticky notes somewhere on their body and the point would be to take their opponent's sticky notes before the other could. Surprisingly, it's actually a very long game.
After a few hours of playing, this was their second game.
No blinking—because blinking is for wimps, Peter believes—the two assassins keep their eyes in a dead locked sort of stare as Natasha takes back all her sticky notes. Clint snickers only having to take one. Obviously, Natasha didn't find the humor.
Stepping back, she cracks her neck. The way it popped made Peter's skin crawl out. Next, just to tease her, Clint cracked his knuckles just by closing his fists. Peter tried to imitate it, but his little fingers made no sound.
Suddenly, his eyes fly back to the ring as Natasha made a dive for the side. She pushes off the rope and is hurtled like a canon ball towards Clint. She moved first. She's desperate.
Clint spun around and faced the other way in time to grab her arms. She's laid back on his chest, causing her to kick the air in a violent struggle. Nervously, Peter's heart thumped hard against his chest, almost hard enough to break through his rib cage.
With a sturdy huff, Natasha uses all of her strength and slams down back to the ground. In doing so, she throws Clint off of her. He smacks the ring's rope, tumbling to the ground. Still sore from the previous game, he groans, lifting back up to his feet. Natasha snickers and that grabs Clint's attention quickly. He sees her wiggling a pink sticky note. Clint laughs out of respect and finds his fight again.
Clint goes after her and halfway to her, he's stopped by something that sounds like the start of a nag:
"Peter!" Steve's voice echoes through the gym. Meekly, Peter turns around in his chair, slightly hiding behind it. His dad always narrows his brow when he's upset and there he sees it. Of course, it's aimed at him. Steve questions him the same way he questions a murder, "What did I tell you about coming in here? There's no telling what could happen." Thankfully, he aims the furrowed brow at Clint and Natasha. Peter can breathe.
Steve demands an explanation, "What were you thinking? He's six. Tony and I allow you to live here, so I expect to receive your best behavior. Is this really it?"
"Aw, c'mon cap," Clint smiles, huffing out of breath, "He was fine."
"Yeah," Natasha agreed and nods heavily, she motions to him, "What do you take us for? Like we're really going to put Peter in danger. Calm down."
Steve's brow softens, but he is definitely not happy. He says nothing, which may be worse than saying anything and he walks away. Heading towards the door, he motions his son to follow him, "Come with me Peter."
Disappointed, Peter slumps down and glimpses at the ring. The two shrug and apologize with their eyes. There's no use going against the Captain. He smiles in return before scurrying to catch up with his father. It's hard walking with him though, he's so big. When he tries to catch a glimpse up at his face, he nearly falls over backwards.
Steve has his head up, deep in thought. He doesn't really know how to explain to Peter how being in the gym is dangerous without making him afraid of Clint and Natasha… maybe, Hawkeye and the Black Widow, yes.
The silence stirs a nervous ache in Peter's belly. He swallows, working up the nerve and reaches out for his father's hand. His little fingers seem like nothing to such a strong hand. Steve glances down to Peter trying to keep up with little legs. It makes Steve chuckle and just completely melt. He stops and picks Peter up.
Surprised, Peter stares at Steve as he continues to walk for the both of them. He notices how he's still not saying anything. Peter frowns, laying his head on Steve's shoulder as he wraps his arms around his neck. "I'm sorry," Peter mumbles, though he's not sure what he did wrong. However, Uncle Thor has always told him it's sometimes best to say sorry.
"Oh, Peter," Steve sighs, feeling like a jerk, "It's not your fault. Don't worry about it." He pats his little back, holding his strength back, "Alright buddy?"
Peter nods.
With a smile, Steve kisses his head. They wait for the automatic door to open to Steve's own office at Stark Tower, though he has no idea what to do with it. He demanded a smaller room and one less extravagant than the one Tony insisted. This room is packed with less steel and metal, replaced with big wooden pieces and could maybe be the only room with carpet, a green carpet. It reminds Steve of his dad's old office.
Steve lets Peter down as he remembers something very important. Suddenly aggravated, Steve announces, "Jarvis, would you please tell Tony to get in here?"
"Of course sir," Jarvis said gladly, adding, "And would you like me to do it in the same tone?"
"That would be great, thank you."
"No problem, sir."
Finding a spinning chair to sit on, Peter was already feeling bored. He spun slowly in the chair, kicking the floor to keep moving. Even the sensation of barfing wasn't exciting enough. Steve noticed this. In a sigh, he grabbed the digital camera off the table and handed it to Peter. "Here, play with this. Maybe you can teach me how to use it," He smiled, "you're smart."
"You're smart daddy," Peter tried assuring his father, turning the camera on.
"Thank you and here I thought people forgot that…" He looks off, not even speaking to Peter anymore in a gruff tone, "like you're father for example."
Peter said nothing. He could always tell when Steve was mad at Tony. He referred to him as "father." It wasn't exactly as nice sounding as daddy is.
Suddenly the door opened. Tony sauntered in, smugly as he glanced around the room. "Uh," He said, despondently looking around the room. The last time he was here it was modern and sleek, not his father's study. He spun around, acknowledging Steve, "You called?"
"Yes I did-" Steve started seriously, but hearing that tone, Tony couldn't help himself.
He interrupts, motioning to the rather large touch screen inside the desk's top. "Since when do you use Jarvis to initiates your fights?"
Steve shakes his head, finding this to be completely absurd. He knows he's in trouble and is trying to divert the conversation back on him. However, Steve knows his tricks. He remains unfazed, finishing his first thought, "Tony. You told me you would watch Peter while I had my meeting with S. H. I. E. L. D."
"I did?"
"You don't remember?" That is hard to believe, Steve thinks.
Awkwardly kicking his feet, Peter feels the tips of his feet drag along the carpet. He watches his dads through the camera's screen. He zooms in on Tony's raised brow and a look of innocence that was too smug to be sincere. He went on to argue, "No. I don't, could you play it back for me?"
Fondling his hair back, Steve grabbed at his locks. This shouldn't be that difficult. He doesn't even care. "Fine. Tony. Fine. Be that way, but just know Peter could've gotten hurt wondering around this place."
"Oh? This place? I thought this was home, but I'm sorry for my mistake."
Visually, Peter could see his dad's patience snap. He roared at Tony, making swift, sharp motions towards him, "Stop making yourself the victim! I've seen you gamble your life for the world, but you're not man enough to own up when you're wrong? C'mon Tony!" He laughs it's so ridiculous.
Tony raises a finger, unable to step down from high horse. His voice is harsh, fighting to yell, "Hold on, did you ever think I have to be defensive because everything is just the god damn end of the world to you," He does, admittedly, shout now, "and you over react about every fucking thing!"
"Don't curse in front of Peter!"
Peter presses hard on a top button and the flash engulfs the room. The two super heroes are taken back a moment in order to adjust their vision again. The heavy atmosphere did not leave though. Out of frustration, Steve rubs his eyes. Tony watches him and feels wretched inside, knowing another fight is not what they need.
He directs his attention to his son, softening his face. "What do you got there, sport?" He asks to Peter sitting awkwardly in the chair.
Biting his lips, Peter turns the camera around and presents the screen. He shows his dads, Steve looking down to see it. Peter shrugs, "I learned how to take a picture."
Tony chuckles through his nose and scoops the boy up. "Let's see," He smiles, taking the camera. He presents it to not only himself, but Steve. On that glowing screen they stare at two ugly, angry faces.
"You have a hideous yelling face, Cap," Tony shakes his head.
"Well, I can't always look good."
The two laugh a little, really getting a bigger picture of things. Peter doesn't understand the full gravity of the situation. All he can do is look back and forth at his parents until one of them says something. He hopes it's soon. He's very uncomfortable.
"You shouldn't have to look this way," Tony mentions, handing Steve the camera. He kisses Peter on the side of his head to calm him down.
Steve sighs, "It's not like I want to…"
"C'mere," Pulling a side smile, Tony motioned Steve. Rolling his eyes first, just to tease, Steve leans over Peter. Getting what he came for, Steve closes his eyes and finds a light kiss from Tony. He has missed the way his husband's lips felt. That's a very lonely form of nostalgia.
Breaking away, Steve wiggles the camera, "We should frame this as a reminder of what we should avoid."
In a quick nod, Tony said, "I agree."
"Really?" Steve smiled out of surprise. Teasing again, his smile widen as he leaned in for another kiss, "I like the sound of that."
"Don't get too excited," Tony warned, "I have a habit of tuning you out. It's a medical condition, Jarvis is looking into it-"
"That's enough," Steve mumbled right before kissing Tony.
Peter stretched himself away for the second time. There are a million places he rather be doing a million other things. He groaned, kicking his legs as he tried to get away, "This is gross!"
"Oh?" Tony chuckled, turning to his son, "Are we not giving you enough attention?"
The two parents took either side and laid a dozen kisses on his cheek, making Peter shriek and giggle…
That picture sits on the side table by the living room's couch to this day, eleven years later. It's hard to see now with the lights turned off, but it is there. The darkness doesn't last long as the front door opens and lets the light pour in. The light produces shadows of Iron man and Captain America as they stumble inside the house. The other avengers have already returned to their own designated rooms, all exhausted and beaten by their latest adventure.
As Iron Man stepped inside, more and more pieces are taken by the robotics in the floor, revealing someone very human. He's bruised and bleeding, having had no time to heal. The suit suddenly disappears and the floor boards close snuggly. He's turned back into Tony Stark, one that looks at the still dressed hero, "Just drop your stuff. Jarvis can come pick it all up."
Having no argument, Captain America drops his shield. Truth be told, he couldn't hold the thing up for one more minute. He didn't even care about the ruckus it made until he heard stirring in the back ground.
"Tony," He whispers, grabbing his husband's arm. He goes right into hero mode, stopping instantly. He opens his ears and senses to the room, trying to pin point the disturbance. The darkness just makes it that much harder on his exhaustion.
A brow raised, Tony lets the Captain have his moment before he completely bashes it. Sighing, he walks out of his hold and scoffs in a whisper, "Be real, we both know who it is."
Taking off his mask, Steve Rogers follows Tony through the room. Tony turns on a lamp on the side table and Steve really does feel silly. Peter is sleeping on the couch and he just rolled over. He's meshing his glasses awkwardly up his face while a quilt only covers half his body, the other half hangs off the couch. He's surrounded himself with his recent photos and a camera too expensive to be laid on the floor.
"How long have we been gone?" Steve asks out of concern.
Tony shrugs, "Days, that's all I can tell you… I think someone wished me a happy Friday, but my Japanese is bad."
Bending down to his knees, Steve flinches and remembers the wound in his thigh. He can't stop wincing, but his need to parent is much greater than the sting. "I've told him not to sleep with his glasses on." He takes them off and reaches for Tony.
Tony helps him up, his eyes locked onto Peter. He mentions, obviously distant about it, "I used to wait up for my Dad too. I knew he would be home, regardless of what I was doing but… there's just something about waiting up for your Dad."
There's nothing he could say, so Steve folded the glasses and set them on the table. "Let's get him bed," Steve tells Tony, "that can't be good for his back." Forgetting the pain again, he scoops up his son just as he's done before. No matter how old he gets, it's never difficult to pick him up. With that in mind, he thinks out loud, "He's too skinny."
Making a snort, Tony moved his camera to the table too. He follows Steve towards the door. He studies Peter's calm sleeping face in his dad's arms. It's so soft and sweet. Tony is instantly brought back to Peter as a baby. "We've done a pretty good job though… as parents."
Being how sudden that was, Steve laughs quietly. He looks back, a teasing smile on his lips, "What makes you say that?"
"Well, I stopped waiting up for my Dad…"
Steve's smile slowly falls. He only brings it back a second to comfort Tony. Tony nods, understandingly and they go and tuck Peter into bed. Just continuing the trend of being reckless with his injuries, Steve bends over and kisses Peter on the forehead. Tony is already by the door, watching. Sometimes he just likes to watch.
Looking back up, Steve catches Tony's stare. He looks dark, silhouetted inside the hallway's light with the exception of his heart, beaming its blue light through his shirt. He watches his husband fall back through the door without a word. Steve frowns, the exhaustion suddenly hitting him for many reasons. He takes a breath before pushing himself up and turns to the door just as it's closing by itself.
Wiping his face, Tony closes his eyes. Maybe if he keeps rubbing, he can rub out all the bad thoughts from his mind. It's all just taking up space, space he could be using for better things.
Before he can fully identify the sound of Peter's door opening and closing again, Tony is hit from behind by a strong force. Eyes popping open, he almost stumbles forward, but the force wraps itself around him, trapping him there in the hold. Tony knows it's Steve, even if his head is hidden behind his own.
"Oh, please," Tony sighs, patting the Captain's arms on his stomach, "I'm fine and you can barely stand. Actually, no, you're able to stand solely because all your weight is on me."
Steve squeezes tighter. His lips travel beside Tony's ear, speaking low and serious, "No jokes."
"I'm fine."
"Then I'm not. Let's talk about it."
Rolling his eyes, Tony manages to loosen the grip on him enough to turn around. He holds Steve's face, examining every hint of emotion on his face to the sad look in his eyes and his worried narrowed brow. "You always talk too much."
"Speak for yourself," Steve chuckles and looks down.
The moment he dares to look back up, he's caught there. Tony leans in close, his thumb caressing the soft skin it found. The thumb rubs off some forgotten dirt and grim from the battle field earlier today. It also reminded Tony of his busted lip. Oh well.
He pressed his lips against Captain America's and heard his sharp inhale of breath through his nose. Steve tensed up. There's a lot he needs to focus on. He doesn't relax when Tony kisses him, lips slightly parted. He kisses him back, tasting the slightly repugnant tang of copper. It weakens his belly, but it sure as hell feels nice to be close to him. He loses himself a moment too long and wavers backwards. One foot catches the ground too late and before he knows it, he's stumbling backwards.
Quickly, Tony throws a hand on the wall and Steve rests himself there. He chuckles, tiredly. "Maybe we should just take a shower and go to bed, huh?"
"Only if I'm invited," Tony smirks and leaves the wall. He presents his hand. Steve looks at it and then glimpses back to Tony. He's avoided him again. Some would say it's better than fighting, but Steve feels he gets more out of Tony if he's being shouted at. That's the only time he really lets all his emotions go. It's too tiring tonight though.
He takes the hand and they begin their journey back to their room. Steve rests his head on top of Tony's and reminds him, "I love you."
Tony responds by squeezing his hand, "I love you too."
oOo
"One more time!" Peter begs, "I got this!"
Inside his father's gym, he's sweating through a hoodie and sweat pants. Do you know what condensation looks like on a glass? Yeah, well that's Peter right now. As beaten as he obviously looks, he's bouncing back and forth on his feet, ready for a fight. It actually amuses Clint who took all of Peter's sticky notes in a matter of minutes. To his credit, Peter did tear off half of a sticky note.
"Are you sure?" Clint asks, almost feeling like the bad guy. It's kind of sad how unmatched Peter is against him.
"Yeah!" Peter huffs, out of breathe. He nods quickly and several times, emphasizing his point, but that just makes him look way too adorable for Clint. Fighting him now would be like fighting a puppy with anime eyes. It yanks at all his heart strings. Cute things are just so fucking cute.
Squeamish, Clint motions to Natasha sitting on a fold out chair beside the ring, "How about a round with Natasha? You know, to mix it up?"
Peter glances at Natasha. She's in work out clothes, probably had thought about training with Clint herself. Instead, she's reading through a STAR magazine Tony bought to see the article about him, which was something about him having hair plugs for his beard and he also has cancer… apparently.
Bored, Natasha's dark eyes flicker upward, meeting his. To Peter they screamed for blood. He flinches away and instantly tries scrapping the idea, "No. No, I'm good."
"It's okay," Clint encourages him, "She's not as scary as she looks."
Under her breath, Natasha laughed.
Now just wasting time, Clint gasps and throws his hand over his collar bone. He looks at Peter in wonder and horror, "You think Natasha is scarier than me!"
"Um," Peter's eyes slide around their sockets as he searches for an answer. This is his awkward geek taking over. He fumbles with the words, trying not to let the man known as Hawkeye feelings get hurt. "I wouldn't uh, say that." He really does have a soft way of speaking as if he always appears to be breathless.
"That's not fair, I was just as much a villain as she was and I've been in just as many battles. Peter. I've killed plenty of people."
Not even closing the magazine, Natasha speaks up, reminding him, "Oh please, I've manipulated you so many times you might as well be my sidekick." She flips the page.
Clint frowned at her.
"I could even be doing it now," a smirk stretched her full lips. Her eyes finally look up at him, forever challenging him.
"No Natasha," Clint smiles, causing a skip in her heart, "It's my turn."
Only slighted confused, Peter studies them for a moment, his impatience rapidly growing. Two people can't possible just stare at each other for that long. It's way too awkward. Over it, he groans, bobbing up and down. "C'mon!" He whines, "Let's go! Just one more time!" He shakes Clint's arm, still pleading with him.
Throwing his hands up, Clint caves to the cuteness that is Peter, "Alright!" Natasha laughs at him and shakes her head. He's entirely too soft. He says it again, convincing himself, "Alright! I think we have time before your dads get home." He falls back, readying himself. He takes off all the yellow sticky notes "Cause you know they'd kill me for this."
"For what?" Tony's voice freezes the room (well, Natasha knew he was there all along so it doesn't bother her). All the organs in Peter's body simultaneously clench up and he may throw up. Smoothly though, Tony simply saunters inside the room with his hands his pockets. "What would you be doing?" He calls out Peter.
A brow up, Tony waits for an answer as he leans on Natasha's chair. He knows the answer, but Peter knows his dad just wants him to stir in the tension. Peter understands the trouble awaiting him. That doesn't mean he can't try to weasel out of it, "Um, Clint and I were just working out. That's all."
"Oh? Is that how the kids are doing it nowadays, because fighting an assassin never occurred to me as a form of work out? Call me crazy," His sarcasm is stressed by his high shrug and incredulous look.
Keeping his mouth shut, Peter now understands why people stare at each other. It's because they have nothing intelligent to say. Peter points down, "I have to get off the ring, don't I?"
Tony's lips purse as he nods, "Good call."
Just being agreeable, Peter nods and moves to the edge. As if to mock him, Tony meets him there and holds up the ropes. Peter gets out, landing hard on his feet. Tony instantly lets the ropes go and starts marching towards the exit. Peter follows with his head down. This is going to be the same argument. The same one they have every time they come back from saving the world:
Why he can't be a superhero.
Halfway through their normal spiel—which Peter has memorized word for word—he grows tired and cracks his neck to rid of some boredom. Hanging his head to the left he notices a spider crawling on the wall. He wonders if he can hit it with his shoe from here, not because he hates spiders, but the wall is kind of far away and it sounds like a fun little challenge-
"Peter," Steve calls back his attention. His brow his furrowed deeply and his arms are crossed in that intense way that makes his arms flex. Peter knows he does it on purpose to be intimidating. Tony is next to him, lounging back on the couch with a glass of scotch. The ice rolls around in the glass.
In a blink, Peter asks, "Are we done yet?"
"No we are not done yet. What has gotten into you? Is this some sort of teenage rebellion?"
Peter isn't brave enough to tell them. He shakes his head, his stare dropping. Talks like this make him anxious. He tries rubbing his hands to counter it, but there's nothing he can do. It's just not fair.
"You can work out any place Peter, we have a separate gym just for that, but you are constantly putting yourself against Clint and asking Thor for help. You even asked Bruce about weapons and what people used to heighten their skills…"
Peter knows he doesn't have powers, which is fine. He's highly detailed and has trained himself to be fast and flexible. All he lacks is fire power.
"Talk to us Peter," Steve insists, still angry, "Help us understand. We thought you got over this… stage." That word might as well have been an insult to Peter. "You've been so dedicated to your photography, we just assumed you grew up." Another blow that just tore Peter up, peter has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from boiling over. Steve had one more in him though, "and gave up this silly fantasy-"
"This is just so hypocritical," Peter mumbles, bitterly shaking his head.
In a second, he'll wish he could suck that little comment back up.
Moving his glass to his lips, he asks his son before taking a sip, "Do you wanna elaborate on that son?" Why couldn't they have ended up with a spoiled brat that loved to use the Stark family riches for his own personal use? No. They had to end up with a good kid with a big heart. Tony blames Steve.
It's a trick. Peter glances at Tony, glaring at him. He falls for it. Peter opens his mouth and nothing can stop him now, he tells them, knowing his anger has etched it's way into every word, "It's hypocritical telling someone they can't be a hero when they are heroes." They have got to see how ridiculous it is.
"Peter," Steve sighs, wondering if he should have handled all this differently. He doesn't exactly have his parents around to give him advice and he's learned Tony may have the parenting skills of a potatoes. "You have to understand," He tires to explain in the most delicate way, "Tony and I, actually all of us didn't really have a choice when it came to becoming superheroes."
Shaking his head, Peter laughs. That's so full of shit. As angry as he is, he can find it in himself to yell. Anger still, it just shakes him inside out, "You have to be kidding me." He's practically trembling. To hide it, he stands up and circles the couch, "Of course you did. Steve you didn't have to join the army or say yes to the program. You didn't, and Tony didn't have to come back from his kidnappers all gun hoe…"
"We were at war at the time," Steve argued, "I had to protect my country."
Tony spoke up too, "I couldn't exactly let my weapons kill innocent people."
"Okay!" Peter snaps, getting flustered. He didn't want to fight, but this isn't an argument about nothing. Since he was a kid all he has ever known was superheroes and what they do for the world. He just wants to help, be a part of something bigger than himself. He speaks quickly out of panic and all his powerful mixed emotions, "You guys had a slim area for choice, but a choice all the same-!"
Steve stands up, a larger than life entity in comparison to meek little Peter. Still, Peter has enough balls to meet the heavy stare. Steve tries to make this very clear, "Peter. We forbid you from perusing this fantasy."
"You forbid me," Peter snorts, resentfully. He mocks his father as he raises his hands up, "You forbid me." He can't even take that sort of thing seriously. Laughing all the way out of the room, Peter leaves for somewhere less forbidding.
The door closing sounded very final to the parents. Out of all of this, Steve isn't even mad at Peter, but a little itch of annoyance does fester in his head. He looks down at Tony, his furrowed brow aimed and at the ready, "Nothing? You couldn't jump in there and help me out? Tony, we're a team, you're supposed to be on my side."
"I am," Tony assures him. He nods and drinks a little more. That warmth finds its way to all the right places. He explains to Steve, "but I'm more of that nerdy kid who sits quietly on the bleachers. I care, but I don't really advertise it."
Steve rolls his eye. Whatever. That's enough for today.
Foot Note:
I hope you loved it, yeah I said it. I don't want you to like it or "like-like" it, I want you to be in the love.
So gimme dat love and comment ;)