Peter didn't think he'd ever been so scared.

He sat, alone in the Tower with no one but Jarvis for company, listening to it rumble and shake. He was eleven, too big for it, but he held his favorite stuffed toy from his dad—a big stuffed elephant with an Iron Man repulsor on each foot—tight against his chest as he huddled in the bottom of his closet.

He had his StarkPhone and was watching the footage of his dad fighting the Chutari with wide eyes.

"Jarvis," he said shakily, "I know you're—you're helping Dad right now, but…but he's okay, right? He's—not hurt?"

"No, Peter," Jarvis replied instantly, and Peter shook in relief. "He has a few minor injuries, but nothing that cannot be fixed with simple first aid."

Peter deflated, sobbing into the elephant.

The Tower gave another big shake, and he huddled into a tighter ball. "I want my dad."

"I'm sorry, Peter," Jarvis said soothingly. "Sir is currently occupied."

"No, I know," Peter said quickly, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry. I know he's—fighting, I just—" Peter took a shaky breath. "I'm scared, even though I shouldn't be. I'm too big to be scared."

Peter imagined, if Jarvis could have, he would have smiled. "You're never too old to be scared, Peter."

Peter did smile. "Thanks, Jarvis. Take care of my dad, okay?"

"Always, young sir."

Peter winced as he watched his dad take a particularly hard hit, but he was up and firing just a second after, so he felt okay.

He sighed, settling into the dark corner of the closet and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

When this was over, his dad owed him so much ice cream.

Loki was curious.

He'd always been a mischievous child, and that temperament was always accompanied by a generous side of curiosity. However, this was borderline perplexing, and he did not appreciate being perplexed.

Stark was a thorn in his side, no doubt, doing his fair share of damage to Loki's army, but his movements were…odd.

The other five members of his little group were on the streets or in the skies (his pig-headed brother holding that honor), attacking his army with all they were worth, but Stark had hardly moved from his Tower. The man looked like he was defending more than attacking.

Loki was perplexed by this.

The man was a certified narcissist—more so than Loki himself, and that was quite the feat—but still, Loki had seen the man's intentions, knew his heart. He didn't think he'd be so shallow as to protect his building while his city was being leveled.

Loki smiled. Perhaps he should pay a visit to this Tower, see what Stark was so hellbent on protecting.

Perhaps he'd finally find the chink in Iron Man's armor.

"I could use some help on 49th, Stark," Steve bit into the comms. Stark heard the dull clang of his shield following the remark. "The damn things just keep coming."

"Oh, someone needs to wash his mouth out with soap," Clint said, the twang of his arrow loud in Tony's ear. All the background noises were killing his concentration.

"Busy, Cap," Tony said, blasting one of the big flying lizard things right between the eyes.

Tony couldn't leave the Tower unprotected—this had been a surprise, and he hadn't had time to get Peter to safety.

He couldn't let anything get near his son, but he couldn't very well tell the rest of his team that, either. After all, Peter was a well-kept secret that he had no intention of letting out anytime soon.

His safety came first.

"Doing what?" Romanov grumbled. "'Cause we're working our asses off here, Stark, and you don't seem to be moving very far from your Tower."

Tony scoffed. Damn, that woman was observant.

Suddenly, Jarvis' voice crackled to life in his ear. "Sir, the Tower has been breached."

"What?" Tony asked, disregarding the fact that his team could probably hear him. "By what? When?"

"I believe it's Loki, sir," Jarvis said quickly. "Peter is—"

"I'm on my way," Tony cut him off, his stomach twisting. "Guys, I have a situation; I have a lead on Loki, okay? Hold down the fort; he's at the Tower. Someone get in touch with Point Break, let him know." The damn god's comm had been fried by his lightning trick.

"Be careful, Stark," Steve said, genuine concern in his voice. "We'll back you up as soon as this is contained."

Tony wasn't even listening.

He had to get to his kid.

Peter heard a thump.

That wasn't unusual, seeing as he was pretty sure the building was all but coming down, but it was…inside. Close.

That was unusual.

"Jarvis?" He asked quietly, uncertainly. "What's—?"

"Quiet, young sir," Jarvis said in a low voice, his voice barely audible over the speakers. "I'm alerting sir now."

Peter swallowed thickly, putting down his StarkPhone and turning it off. He didn't want anyone to see the light under the door, or hear the speakers.

Was it one of the aliens? Were they inside? Peter held the elephant tight, his hands shaking.

He froze at the sound of footsteps and the telltale creak of his bedroom door opening.

"Hm," a voice said outside, and Peter stopped breathing. "Not quite the bedroom I'd imagined for a billionaire."

Peter's eyes went wide.

"Never pegged him to have a room so…messy," the voice continued, the British accent patronizing and cold. "So young."

Peter shook on the floor of his closet. He could see the shadow of the man moving around outside, around his room, through the crack under the door.

"Or perhaps…it's someone else's?" Peter heard the man's voice change as he turned around, the sound dulling as it ricocheted off the opposing wall. "Maybe…the room of a child, hm?"

The footsteps stopped, and Peter didn't breathe, because they were right there.

Right outside his door.

Peter's eyes widened further and he stared up, frozen, as the door handle creaked, the door swinging open. A tall man, with jet black hair slicked away from his forehead and a horned crown, stood, dressed in green and black robes that fell to his ankles. The man smiled down on him, but his eyes were cold.

Peter took a shaky breath.

"I believe I've won our game of hide and seek," the man said, the cold smile stretching further. "But playtime's over, little one."

Tony's heart dropped.

He walked slowly along the extended balcony, letting his machines disable his suit, piece by piece, and finally stepped into his living room. He tried to appear casual, but he couldn't see Loki, and the thought that he'd found Peter was tearing him to shreds.

"Hey, Reindeer Games," he shouted, going to the bar and pouring himself a glass of whiskey, trying to appear indifferent. "Want a drink? You know where to find me."

He glanced up, putting on the bracelets he kept behind the bar counter, just in case he needed his suit to come to him instead of the other way around. "I've got some good whiskey. I—"

He looked up, and the words caught in his throat as he saw his son's tear-streaked face as he was pushed through the doorway, stumbling over the threshold. Loki followed close behind, his spear in one hand; his other hand was clamped tight on Peter's shoulder.

"Dad?" The boy said quietly, his voice breaking.

Tony froze, his eyes flicking steadily between Loki and his son. Loki had that damn Cheshire cat smile and was looking like he'd already won.

"I believe I found something I wasn't supposed to," Loki drawled, tightening his fingers on Peter's collarbone. Peter bit his lip, eyes squeezed shut. Tony flinched. "Care to introduce me, Stark?"

Tony instead focused his eyes on Peter, staring at his son with what he hoped was a brave, confident face. "It's okay," he said, vaguely surprised at how steady his voice was. "Peter. It's okay."

His son opened his eyes to look at him, tears brimming, clumping his lashes and wetting his cheeks. Peter gave the barest of nods, gasping in a breath.

"Peter," Loki said, and Tony's eyes shot back to the thing holding his son, fury brimming in his gut. "Strong name, boy. Now, Stark—" Loki looked up, smiling. "I'd come a bit closer, please. Unless—" Peter shuddered and tried to pull away, but Loki put the tip of his spear to Peter's temple, tightening his hold on his shoulder. "—you'd like your son to turn out like your friend Clint."

"So help me God, Loki—" Tony growled, taking a few steps forward.

"Which one?" Loki asked, his face the perfect image of patronizing confusion. "I'm sorry, it's just been so confusing, lately, but my idiot brother is quite occupied. Now. Come closer, please."

Tony fisted his hands at his sides, stepping closer. Peter's wide eyes followed him every step of the way, his son futilely trying to twist his head away from the spear's point.

As soon as he was close enough, he reached out to grab Peter, to touch him, something, but Loki just tsked and took a step back, eliciting a startled gasp from Peter. "Not so fast, now."

"Give me," Tony ground out, his voice dangerously low, "my son."

"I don't feel so threatened, Stark," Loki said, smiling, the Glowstick of Destiny hanging loosely at his side, now. "I have an army."

"We have a Hulk."

"And I have your son, so who's really winning?" At the words, Loki's fingers dug into Peter's shoulder. His son cried out, reaching up to pry the hand off, but Loki just dragged him back a step, his son's face twisted in pain.

"Besides, how will your friends possibly have time for me…when they're too busy fighting you?"

Before Tony had time to react, Loki surged forward, dragging Peter with him, and pushed the tip of the spear against his chest.

Tony had time to take a breath, to prepare himself, to hear the anguished "No!" leave his son's lips, before the tip touched his heart…

…and clinked ineffectively against the plating of his arc reactor.

Loki's eyes furrowed, and Peter took a shaky breath, sobbing in relief. "Dad," he whined, looking up, but Tony was still reeling—he really thought he was a goner, there.

"This usually works," Loki mumbled, perplexed.

"Well, you know, performance issues…" Tony quipped, his hand reaching slowly for Peter. He'd barely brushed his son's arm before Loki threw him to the side, his hand reaching up to wrap around Tony's throat.

Peter landed with a grunt, his side slamming into the raised step leading to the bar area of his dad's living area. The wind was knocked out of him and his vision blurred; he took a deep breath that sent stabs of pain through his body, trying to lift his head.

He wiped the drying tears from his face as best he could and sat up, steadying himself with a hand on the ground and an arm around his middle, clutching his side; his breaths came in shallow pants.

He looked up to find his dad, just to see Loki toss him through the window, the glass shattering as he fell.

Peter couldn't breathe.

"No!" He shouted, his pain forgotten. He raced past Loki and fell to his knees in the broken glass, the shards cutting into his palms as more tears leaked out. "Dad! Daddy!"

Just then, a blast of sound reached his ears, and he turned just in time to see the compartmentalized suit his dad had been working on shooting out the window over his head, diving rapidly for his falling father.

He let out a sob of relief, deflating, falling back onto his heels as he slumped.

"That was unexpected," Loki said behind him. Peter whirled just in time for Loki to fist a hand in his hair, dragging him back away from the window. "Now, child, I still have a use for you."

"No, n-no, please," Peter sobbed, hands clutching Loki's wrist as he pulled him upright. His teary eyes fell fearfully on the spear clutched in Loki's hand, and Peter shuddered convulsively as Loki smiled down at him.

"Your father wouldn't dare hurt you," he said quietly, bringing the tip level with Peter's sternum. Peter sobbed again in terror, trying desperately to twist away. "so if he's busy fighting you—"

"Let the kid go," a new voice said from the doorway. Peter's head turned to the voice, as much as he could—only to see a woman with fiery red hair and a wicked looking gun. "And if you're feeling generous, I'll take your Light Saber."

Loki laughed, low in his throat, and tossed Peter aside. He landed with a grunt on the broken glass, scrapes lining his bruised arms.

"The spy," Loki said, smirking. "Come to save the day with nothing but a toy and a desperation for redemption, is that it?"

"Mm, I'd say I brought a little more than desperation," she said with a sly smile of her own, nodding behind Loki. Loki turned, his eyes darkening when—when something came out of the doorway.

Peter blinked wearily, sure his overloaded brain was playing tricks on him, because—was that the Hulk?

The huge green man snorted angrily, nudging away the entrance from the terrace like tin foil, coming to box Loki in between them.

Loki smiled at the ground, chuckling to himself. "Yes, your trump card. I'm sorry to say, I—"

"He's not the only one she brought," said yet another man, the elevator doors opening and allowing him entrance. Peter started, staring at the man his father had told him bedtime stories about.

Captain America stood, staring Loki down with enough righteousness to make Peter feel like he should apologize to his dad for not cleaning his room.

Beside him emerged a blond man with a sleeveless vest, an arrow knocked and ready on his bow. "I've got a couple choice words for you, pal," the man bit out, absolute murder in his eyes. He hesitated when he caught Peter's incredulous glance—his eyes were everywhere, trying to take everything in, and Clint looked hurriedly away. "Well, when—when the little ears are gone."

"Brother," said a large, muscled man as he came in through the window Peter was leaning next to, nearly giving the boy a heart attack. Peter scooted back, away from them, until his back hit the wall. He scooted into a corner, bracing his arms on the walls on either side of him, trying to sink into it.

He wanted his dad.

"You're beaten, Loki," the new man said, a huge hammer at his side. "Please, brother. Give up."

Loki, who looked ruffled, now, shook his head. "I'm done playing your games, brother," he spat the word, wielding the spear like a sword. "The five of you incompetent fools will never defeat me. You have no idea what's coming—"

"Oh, thank you. He said five; guess I'm not an incompetent fool after all."

Peter sobbed in relief, forcing himself onto shaky legs as his dad flew threw the broken glass, not wasting any more time before he blasted Loki right in the chest with his repulsor.

"Stay down, Severus."

"Dad," Peter sobbed, stumbling towards the man. He was too tired, too scared, and in way too much pain to remember that he wasn't supposed to call him Dad in front of other people, but Tony didn't seem to mind. He shed the armor as quickly as he could and threw himself at Peter, his face twisted in concern.

Peter's legs gave out, but his dad got to him just in time to catch him, holding him tightly against his chest, threading one hand through Peter's hair.

"Hey," his dad breathed, holding Peter as he cried. "Hey, kiddo, I'm here. I'm here, you're okay; it's over. It's over, I promise."

Peter just sobbed into the man's shoulder, his arms tight around his neck.

"Stark?" Captain America questioned. Peter opened his bleary eyes to see Thor setting his hammer on Loki's chest, rendering him absolutely immobile; the woman and the boy and arrow guy grabbed the spear and raced to the stairs—maybe to stop the aliens?

"Who's this?"

Peter tensed, hiding his face in his dad's shoulder again, and he felt the man go rigid against him. The Hulk snuffled from the side, surveying the scene with indifferent eyes, instead pinning the downed god with an angry look.

"This is—" his dad stopped, sighing, and picked Peter up in his arms, holding him close. "I'll—I'll explain later, Cap. First, let's get rid of the lizards and the demigod, huh?"

Steve gave a thin frown, but nodded sharply, turning and barking an order. Peter tensed as the Hulk passed them, but he only stopped alongside Loki, who was looking around with absolute hatred in his eyes.

The huge man snorted, muttering, "Puny god."

The look of indignation on Loki's face was enough to bring a wet smile to Peter's face, even as his dad carried him to the elevator.

"Let's get you fixed up, buddy," his dad said as the doors closed, setting him down to lean against the elevator wall. "Down to the Med Bay, okay? Where does it hurt?"

The fear in his dad's eyes betrayed his concern, even though his voice was sure and steady. Peter sniffed, wiping his eyes on his shoulder before stuttering, "I—h-he—threw me into th-the glass…I just…got all cut up." He showed his dad his palms and arms, dozens of tiny scratches still weeping slowly.

His dad's eyes became stormy for a moment, but the anger faded as he sighed, picking up one of Peter's hands and kissing his palm. "Better?"

Peter quirked a smile. "That's n-not how it works, Dad."

"Pretty sure it is," he quipped, smiling sadly. "Let's get you fixed up, okay? The others are dealing with the alien invasion now; after that—" he paused, looking down. "Then we'll…introduce you. Lay out the situation. Okay?"

Peter swallowed, nodding. "Okay."

A couple dozen butterfly bandages, two rolls of ace bandage, and one bowl of ice cream later, Peter found himself crammed against his dad's side on the couch in the remains of the living room, the five other battered heroes surrounding him.

"This," his dad said, looking down with a fond smile, "is Peter. My son."

"No shit," Clint said, then shut up at his dad's look. "Sorry, kiddo. No shit, Sherlock."

"Clint," Steve said, looking over. Clint raised his hands in surrender and leaned back.

"Wait, so—" Dr. Banner said, rubbing his eyes. The man looked absolutely exhausted. "You've been hiding a secret kid for ten years?"

"Eleven," Peter felt compelled to add, a bit sulkily. He was almost twelve, geez.

"Yes," his dad said pointedly, looking around. "And I expect it to stay that way, understand?"

"Question one," Natasha said, leaning back. Peter had picked up on their names after a bit of eavesdropping. "How did you keep this a secret? Who's the mom?"

Peter flinched, looking down, and his dad turned to her with no small amount of anger. "That's a little personal, Romanov."

"Um…it's okay," Peter said quietly, looking up at his dad, leaning in against him. "I mean, i-if you're okay with…with telling them, it's okay with me."

His dad locked eyes with him, and Peter tried to look sure of himself, confident. His dad sighed, relenting, and pulled Peter tighter against his side. Peter didn't mind. He didn't want to be away from his dad for a second after the day he'd had.

"I didn't know about him until he was six," his dad admitted, looking down. "His mother died, and left me full custody in the will…paperwork signed, room furnished…and I got the best kiddo in the world."

Peter smiled into his dad's side.

"That's why you wouldn't leave the Tower," Steve said in realization, leaning back. "Why you didn't want to join the team. You had Peter."

"On the nose, Ice Pop," his dad said, shifting to get more comfortable. "And—dammit, I know I said this, but…this has to stay secret, you understand me?"

"I do not understand," Thor said, leaning back. "Having a son is a wonderful gift; should it not be celebrated?"

"It's not like that," his said quickly, squeezing Peter's shoulder. Peter knew, though; they'd had this talk a thousand times, and it didn't bother him anymore. "Not at all. You saw, today—I have a lot of enemies, and if they know I have a son that I love and would do anything to protect…" His dad shivered, and Peter wrapped his arms around him, trying to reassure the man. His dad wrapped him in his arms in return, cupping the back of his head. "I can't let that happen."

Steve nodded, looking down. "Alright. Your secret's safe with us, Stark."

"That's what a team's for, right?" Natasha said, looking up with a small smile. "Trusting us with secrets."

His dad hesitated a second, then nodded. "Yeah. I'm…trusting you with he most important thing in my life."

"We will not fail you, Shield brother," Thor said proudly, picking up his hammer. "If you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to on Asgard…a little brother to try, a father to placate, all the political dramas of the day. And Starkson," he said, looking at Peter. Peter looked up in surprise, meeting the god's eyes. "You're a noble warrior, Peter. I hope we meet again soon!"

Peter's eyes widened, and he absently nodded. "Uh—th-thank you."

Thor nodded to him, to the rest of them, and then disappeared out the window, flying into the night sky.

"You do kinda look like Stark," Clint said, leaning forward. "Hm. Nice to meet you, Peter."

Peter smiled nervously, but he felt okay since his dad was with him. "You, too. Uh, all of you."

"Good work today, son," Steve said, nodding at him. Peter felt a blush creep up his cheeks, turning away. "We should go help with the cleanup, guys."

"Not me," Banner said, waving a weary hand in their direction. "Count me out. I'm taking a nap."

Peter snorted, smiling, and his dad ruffled his hair. "You sure you're okay, Peter?"

Peter smiled up at the man, his pain forgotten. He knew he'd just met them all, and it was a chance meeting, never planned…but for some reason, he felt like this was the start of something. Maybe something more than the little world he'd shared with his dad inside this Tower.

"Yeah," he said, laying his head on his dad's shoulder and staring at the stars in the night sky through the broken window, almost snorting at the irony. "I'm good, Dad. I'm…really good."

Something new, he decided. Maybe…the beginning of a family.

A/N: Thanks so much to RayRox360 for this request! I think I took it a little differently than they wanted, but I hope it turned out well for them!

Also, just…if you haven't seen RayRox360's story A Beautiful Lie, I highly, highly recommend it. Like, it's amazing. Highly. Recommend.

Allthesinnersand: I know Tony is such a wonderful dad I love him

Again, absolutely 100% more than open to requests! I've already got a bunch lined up, so more exciting things to come :) please drop a review if you can spare a minute, and go check out my other stories if you want!