Rated T for Peter's mouth and thoughts.

Disclaimer: Don't own shit. If I did this would actually happen.

Warning: There's an ENORMOUS amount of fluff. If you cannot handle a lot of mushy fluff, I'm going to ask you to please refrain from reading this fic.

Peter bounced from building to building, swinging with nothing but web. The bright full moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the earth below it. As the wind roared against his ears as he swung through the night, he mentally praised himself for being badass today. A badass with a skin tight red-and-blue-suit made out of spandex, but a badass nonetheless.

Today, he put an end to a huge gang that was causing mischief and creating chaos all over the city. It had taken him a month to complete this mission because the whereabouts of this gang were not only misleading, but it had a tendency to disappear as well, despite its size. But eventually Peter discovered a pattern- he always did. It was a lucky mission too; he swooped down right into the heart of the mob without any police or, even worse, any S.H.I.E.L.D "members" interrupting. He figured they had bigger, more important, governmental business to take care of, and for that he both a little disturbed yet grateful.

Spiderman glided through the city until he saw Stark Tower standing up nice and tall. He couldn't wait to go sleep in his nice warm bed. The thought of his comfy comforter, a tempur-pedic mattress, and fluffy pillows, was like a siren's call that sang and summoned him all the way from his bedroom. The cold air started to seep through his suit and into his bones. Yeah, a warm bed sounded extremely appealing right now.

This mission had really taken a lot out of him-especially today. Sure he defeated those goons, but he didn't win without earning a few cuts and bruises here and there. There were too many of them for Peter to come out scratch-less, and it wasn't like they weren't well trained this time. The only thing that seemed to be bothering him was his navel area. Several thugs had restrained him and some beefed up idiot delivered several blows to his stomach. Obviously he broke free and recovered quickly, but it still hurt like hell and the pain seemed to worsen with time. Peter reassured himself that all he needed was a celebratory shower and a good night's rest. He'd be fine in no time.

The young vigilante climbed up the side of Stark Tower until he reached his bedroom window. He grunted and hissed as he made his way up, but still ignored the flash of pain that shot up from his abdomen. Slowly but gently, he pried the window open and stepped into his room, his footsteps as light as air. Peter sighed in delight at the sudden change of temperature and smell. Home. Finally.

He carefully made his way over to turn on the light, but they suddenly turned on without his doing.

"Peter?"

He froze.

Shit!

All the muscles in Peter's body stiffened and locked. Spiderman slowly turned around to see a very bewildered Steve and Tony in bed. This wasn't his room. It was his parents! How could he have been so stupid!?

Thank God almighty he didn't take off his mask before he barged in. Maybe he could still redeem himself, but the chances of that happening were one in a million thanks to JARVIS who secured all of the doors and windows!

Tony and Steve quickly sprung out of bed standing upright, both of them looking perplexed and angry.

Very angry.

It was Tony who spoke first.

"Spiderman? What the hell are you- wait." His eyes shifted from side to side, the wheels in his brilliant head churning. Then after a couple of seconds, his expression grew gruesomely grim.

In that moment, Peter's heart was beating faster and louder than any drum, and his stomach was doing a million somersaults. He couldn't look at his Pops. One parent's reaction is enough, never mind two. His senses screamed at him to run away, the tingling sensation running up and down his spine. And Peter did just that.

"Steve, catch him!"

Captain America caught his wrist and yanked him back before he could run any further. Steve twisted them so hard that Peter thought his wrists would crack from the immense pressure. This time, his spidy-senses were roaring at him to do something. Peter kicked, swayed, tried to flip his Pops over, did every movement he could possibly think of, but it was futile. He still failed miserably.

He was defenseless.

Tony stepped in front of the young vigilante. He brought his hand to Spiderman's face, but as soon as the tips of Tony's fingers brushed against his mask, Peter flinched violently and started to increase his writhing and struggling, but his other father merely tightened his hold. Tony soon grasped the end of the mask and terrifyingly peeled it away, revealing familiar tousled brown hair, and Peter wanted to die then and there. The feeling of his mask being pulled off left him feeling excruciatingly nude, and he wished he could scream. Peter bowed his head in shame, desperate to hide his face. He felt fingers curl under his chin and pull his face upright.

The sight of his Dad's glossy eyes and slightly parted mouth hurt, and the whispered Peter hurt even more. Tony's face was like a canvas and the colors of hurt, anger, worry, sadness, love, and protectiveness, were all splattered into one painful masterpiece.

He felt his Pops release his wrist and spin him around in disbelief. Peter immediately shut his eyes and instinctively rubbed his wrists, refusing to make eye contact with either parent.

Steve felt himself grow livid; along with Tony once the revelation settled in.

Steve clenched his jaw hard trying to keep his cool. "How long have you been," he gestured to Peter, "this."

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling a bit disgusted. "F-for a while now."

Tony clearly couldn't believe what he was hearing. "For a while now? You mean to tell me that you have been roaming around in nothing but spandex trying to get yourself killed?! For what, huh, Peter? Please, pray tell, what for?!"

Peter bit his lower lip, not trusting himself to speak.

"PETER STARK-ROGERS! ANSWER ME!" Tony roared.

He flinched violently at his stentorian voice. Never had his Dad yelled at him with that tone. He could practically feel the tower shake under it.

They waited for an answer, and it finally dawned on Peter that there was no backing out of this one. All the web and superhuman instincts in the world couldn't save his ass this time, so he gave them the truth because it was probably the only chance he'd have to come clean.

"Okay, I've been keeping a lot of shi- ah, crap from you and Pops. Including that several people around me get hurt, but I've been given the chance to change that. I help people in need and that makes me happy. People whose lives could have gone so wrong if I wasn't there to save them!" He looked at both of his parents, eyes slightly watery because of his own frustration. "I have the ability to help them, Dads!"

"You don't have that ability anymore." Ironman huffed, clearly not affected by what he said.

Peter cocked his head to the side, taken aback. "W-what?"

"You heard me!" he snapped.

"Tony," Steve tried to soothe, and put his hand on his husband's shoulder, attempting to calm him.

Tony shrugged off the hand on his shoulder and faced him, "Spandex, Steve! Spandex!"

The billionaire turned to the boy in, what his face read as, the silly costume. "This," he declared, and held up his mask, his life, "is over. You're done running around like it's Halloween every freaking night, trying to get yourself killed. You are done and grounded for life!"

Anger scorched through Peter's veins. It inundated him so fast that his head spun from all the rage that shot its way up to his brain. How un-fucking-believable. So, they get to go and prance around in their costumes, looking like it's Halloween every damn day, but when it came down to Peter it was suddenly forbidden? No! They couldn't do this to him. His suit was like his actual skin. It was part of him. They couldn't just rip it off and tell him to go live without it! Not after this many years. No way in hell.

Instead of saying all of this, all Peter could do was shake his head and say, "N-no. You can't do this. I'm Spiderman! People need me!

"Pops," Peter pleaded looking at Steve, his eyes begging him to be on his side and to see reason, "Pops tell him he's wrong. Please."

Steve sighed. "Peter your father's right, but-

"NO!" he roared at them. Really, he surprised himself from screaming at his parents like the damn lunatic that he was, and Peter knew he should have kept his mouth shut while he still had the chance to live, but he couldn't help it. This was his life they were trying to take away while they themselves pranced around doing the same damn thing! " I have been taking care of myself the whole fucking time I've put on that mask! I AM Spiderman whether you two like it or not!" he screamed.

By the look of it, his Dad was getting ready to almost slap him, but Pops stopped him. He stepped dangerously close in front of his son, towering over him and Peter fought to keep absolutely still. His ice cold blue eyes bore into his. "You watch your mouth young man, or I'll wash it with soap, and you could kiss being Spiderman goodbye. Permanently."

At this point, a tear escaped from Peter's eyes and spilled down his left cheek. He hastily brushed it away in frustration and gazed at both Steve and Tony with despondent eyes. The angry fire in him still burned alive, but a denser, colder, and darker emotion took center stage.

His voice cracked when he tried to speak again and he hated it.

"This very fear you two have of losing me, multiply it by a thousand because that is exactly the way I feel every time you guys go out on a mission."

Tony and Steve exchanged stunned glances. Peter reckoned that they were shocked that their only son felt this way. Good. Every other kid wouldn't care and would probably be too busy swimming in the fame, wealth, and success given to them because their parents were superheroes.

Peter was not every kid.

He continued even though it was becoming more difficult for him to speak. "I can't stop you because people need you. I put my own selfish request of having my two dads safe beside me. I wake up everyday knowing that there's a seventy percent chance you guys might not…" his breath hitched. "I am Spiderman and I will always be Spiderman. And not you guys, or S.H.E.I.L.D, or any other damn superhero on this earth can stop me."

This time, several tears spilled down Peter's face and he tried to hurriedly leave, brushing past his parents as he did so.

"Peter wait." Tony breathed and grabbed his hand only to have it be yanked away.

"Leave me alone!" Peter sobbed. He didn't know even why he was crying. All he knew was that he couldn't stop. And he hated it, hated every second of it because it made him look like the case he wasn't trying to make; a weak, unstable little boy who didn't fit inside the enormous suit.

He ran into his Pops strong chest only to have him enveloped in a tight hug. Peter again ignored the intense flash of pain that came from his stomach. He didn't want this comfort. All it did was set his nerves on fire and made him want to get away from everything. He tried gently pushing away, but when his Pops wouldn't let up, he pathetically resorted to kicking his legs and pounding his fists against his father's chest; shouting, but Steve would still not let go. His Dad watched tragically, each struggle presumably breaking his heart.

"Let go! L-let me go! I'm a disappointment," he spat the word as if it was acid in his mouth," so just give up already! G-give...up." Peter gave up the fight himself and fell limp against his father's chest. Pop's watery eyes met with Dad's. Both of them partook in a non-verbal conversation, but Peter had an adequate understanding of just what might've been said. It definitely had to do with him thinking he's a failure.

What prompted his parent's next action could only be inspired by their relatability to his statement. He knew his Pops was frequently deemed weak and "not good enough" to fight in the war. He also knew that for years his Dad tried to impress his own father, but he guessed that completing high school at the age of fifteen and prestigious private universities begging his son to come to their institute wasn't good enough. And now that the feeling of failure, of disappointment, perpetuated itself into their son's life? Peter knew it was unbearable for them.

He felt Tony crash into his back and wrap arms around his middle. Peter whimpered and gave a cry into Steve's chest, but they didn't think it was from physical pain. He was perfectly sandwiched between his two parents. His Pops and Dads' scent engulfed his nose, as he felt warm tender kisses being applied all over his face and hair, kissing away tears. Steve and Tony were muttering in-between kisses of how much of a wonderful boy he was, and how he could never be a disappointment, and it made him feel incredibly guilty for yelling at them because he should've communicated his point more maturely and calmly.

Peter's tears stopped a long time ago, but he still allowed Pop to cup his cheek and press his forehead against his own. He still allowed Dad to rake a hand through his hair repeatedly whilst resting his lips in the crook of his neck, occasionally kissing the spot. He allowed all of this to happen because it didn't matter if he wanted it or not; it mattered if they needed to hold onto their son. So Peter stayed, listening to his Pops' soft heartbeat, and felt the warm glow of Tony's arc reactor pressed into his back. They stayed like that for a long time savoring each other's presence, until Peter broke out a yawn.

Steve kissed Peter's forehead, "Go change and come back here." He said. "I'm not letting you out of my sight."

Normally, Peter would refuse sleeping in-between his parents like a four-year-old, but he was so physically, mentally, and emotionally drained that he couldn't refuse the offer. He quickly went go change, missing his parents' warmth already.

Tony turned to Steve, "Steve, how the hell are we going to-

Steve silenced Tony with a warm tender kiss. "We'll figure something out in the morning," he replied.

Tony grumbled something about 'spandex' and somewhere along the lines of 'mine as well go out naked.'

Peter soon came back in a T-shirt and sweats lightly smiling, but he looked like he could pass out any you had counted this fight, he'd technically been fighting all day.

Tony playfully elbowed him in the general gut area, and Peter gave out an instinctive hiss, which he regretted immediately. Another cover had been blown, making it twice in one day. The Universe really loved him today didn't it?

Tony's playful smirk quickly morphed into a worried expression. "Oh God, you're injured aren't you?"

"I think God's fine, Dad." Peter croaked out.

Pop resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Even though Peter was adopted, he still had that dry sarcastic humor that Tony had. Maybe genetics weren't as important as environment, in this case. "Haha, very funny, now shirt off." He ordered.

Peter was about to argue but the glare from Steve told him otherwise. He sighed and slowly took off his shirt. His Dad's instantly started inspecting every inch of skin on Peter's torso. Their eyes almost immediately settled onto the bruise that surrounded his navel.

"It's fine," Peter sighed.

Steve and Tony glared at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world. He clearly was not fine. Peter always ignored bruises and scrapes, but this wasn't a normal bruise. It was freaking enormous. It literally looked like someone finger painted the colors purple and yellow all over his stomach. Despite its color, the bruise seemed to have swelled severely. Probably because of all the swinging and climbing he did. Tony gingerly touched hit, earning another hiss from Peter. He glared at him. The kind of glare that said, and you wonder why your father and I don't let you do this. Peter ignored it. Bodily injures came in the job description. His parents understood this better than anyone. It just was different when it came down to their "baby."

He didn't notice Pops leaving, but he came back with some ointment, bandages, and what seemed to be a cold towel.

"Lie down," Steve commanded.

Peter frowned at the slight ire-ness in his voice, but did what he was told. He sat beside him and his Dad sat just above his head. Steve poured a generous amount of ointment to his fingertips then carefully applied it to his bruise. Even though his father's touch was gentle, Peter still had to bite his lip from releasing a hiss or, even worse, a cry. Tony seemed to sense his distress, so he carded his hand through Peter's hair with a solemn expression.

"Tony," Steve said, "I need you to lift him up slightly."

Peter pouted even more. It's not like he was unconscious. He had a name, and it definitely wasn't him.

Dad wrapped his arms around his chest and slowly lifted him up to a forty-five degree angle from the bed. Pops took the bandages and wrapped them around his abdomen, so it held the wound in place by adding a little pressure. His wound did not like that.

"Ah!" He cried, and tried to still his movements, but his body instinctively bucked.

"Shh," his Dad soothed and kept running his hands through his hair while tightening his hold.

"I'm done, Pete," his Pop reassured him. "We're all done."

Steve nodded to Tony, and Tony slowly retrieved his arms as soon as Steve's replaced them with his own. He felt his Pops position one arm under his upper back and the other underneath his hamstrings. Before he knew it, he was lifted off the bed and scooped into his father's arms. Peter clenched his eyes shut, expecting there to be a harsh tug on his wound, but surprisingly there was none. He guessed that was what the bandages were for.

He felt a blush creep onto his face as his father carried him. His blush deepened when his Dad stared at him like he was the same eight-year-old Peter who fell asleep in front of the TV beside Uncle Thor and who had to be carried to bed.

Steve gently lowered Peter onto the center of the bed, propping his head against the pillows.

After Tony draped the cool cloth over Peter's stomach, he and Steve climbed into bed, turning off the lights with a snap of his fingers.

Normally, it was Peter who snuggled close to his parents, but the roles seemed to be reversed tonight. His Dad nuzzled his own cheek, face buried in the crook of the left side of his neck, and his Pops' mouth and nose were buried atop of his head, infrequently kissing his fluffy brown hair.

He's not gonna lie. Peter felt good. He originally thought that he would be crying himself to sleep, alone in his room, after his parent's burned his suit and mask. But instead, he was coddled in-between his parent's, their love, protection, and admiration, practically radiating off of their being and into Peter's heart. It certainly was a strange turn of events, but for thankfully the better.

"You are going to tell me how you shoot silk out of wrists, and I'm making you a new suit." Tony murmured into Peter's ear.

"Whatever you say, Dad," he mumbled.

"Oh and Peter?"

Peter looked at his Dad.

"Don't think for a second that you aren't grounded."

Peter closed his eyes and groaned loudly, while Steve chuckled.

Tony kissed his son's cheek and leaned over to kiss his husband. "Goodnight, Captain Sexy."

"Oh God!" Peter cried.

Both heroes chuckled then nuzzled Peter even more.

After a few moments in each other's presence, Peter asked sleepily,

"Hey dad's?"

They both hummed in response.

"I love you guys."

Aaaand once again he was being smothered with tender kisses and affectionate words, 'till, by God, he couldn't breathe.

...

The last thing Peter saw was his Dad's arc reactor glowing in the dark before that too disappeared from his view.

And just like that they all fell asleep, with Tony's and Steve's arms draped protectively over their boy, thanking God for a perfect family.

Fin.