Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!

This chapter pushes up against that t-rating a bit towards the end, I thought after everything that Tony and Steve deserved a nice wedding night. ;) It's still not what I would consider mature or explicit, just a bit more... detailed than before.

Steve yawned as he shifted slightly on Peter's bed, careful to avoid jostling his sleeping boy. He and Tony had decided to sleep in Peter's room with him in the hopes that it would help keep his nightmares to a minimum. They wanted to ensure that Peter's senses were as sharp as they could possibly be when he faced Bucky in the morning.

Tony's fingers combed idly through Steve's hair, the fear his brown eyes tangible in the soft blue light emanating from the arc reactor, even as Steve knew he was trying to hide it.

"Hey," he whispered as he stilled Tony's hand, turning to kiss his palm. "Talk to me."

Tony scoffed, quirking an eyebrow as he ran his thumb over the stubble along Steve's jawline. "You didn't shave this morning?"

"No, I guess not," Steve answered. "Must've forgotten."

"No, you never forget stuff like that," Tony insisted. He propped himself up on his elbow, looking at Steve with alarm. "What's the deal, babe?"

Steve huffed, trying to hide his frustration. He'd been trying to reassure Tony, not have it turn the other way around.

"Just a bit nervous about the mission, I guess," he finally said.

"Oh. That it?"

"And about tomorrow."

"Ah. Well, I'd be concerned if you weren't nervous about tomorrow," Tony said. His jaw twitched as he glanced down at Peter, cuddled up between them. "You still sure it's the right move?"

"I hope so," Steve admitted, rather painfully. He didn't like being uncertain, and liked admitting it even less so. "But I honestly don't know what else to do. I do think Peter is our best hope to get through to Bucky, I just… wish that he wasn't. It's a lot to put on him… after everything."

"Mmm," muttered Tony. "You still thinking that Barnes will know something about where the rest of HYDRA might've scattered?"

"More like hoping, but yeah," said Steve. "We can plan out all the raids that we want, but there'll be a lot less risk to the team if Bucky's able to give us some usable intel, and there's no way he can do that unless we can get through to him. Which is where Peter comes in."

Tony's eyebrows knitted together, his lips quirking into that I-love-you-but-you're-crazy look that he often gave Steve. A look that, according to Peter, Steve often gave right back at him.

"Well, I s'pose if anyone can get through to that muddled brain of his, it'll be Pete," Tony said, his fingers resuming their carding through Steve's hair. "He could probably charm the socks off an alligator without saying a word. Even Fury's fallen prey to those puppy-dog eyes of his a few times over the years."

Steve shuddered as Tony hit a particularly sensitive spot on his scalp. He absolutely loved when Tony ran his fingers through his hair, and had even been wearing it a bit longer lately to make it easier, at Tony's request.

"Oh, I don't doubt that for a second," he replied, smiling softly as he brushed a stray curl off of Peter's forehead, his throat tightening when Peter sighed in his sleep and burrowed even closer to him. "There's no way I'm gonna let anything happen to him, Tony, you know that."

"Yeah, I do." Tony sighed as he flopped back down onto the pillow, reaching for Steve's hand. "Wish you could've been here with me during his colicky days. Whew. You wanna talk about sleep-deprivation… now that was something else. And he wouldn't sleep a wink unless his tiny little body was touching mine from head to toe and his ear was pressed right over my heart. On the really bad nights we wouldn't even make it to bed. I would just tie him to me and lean against the wall for awhile."

Steve's eyebrows shot up, in both amazement and horror. "You slept standing up? With Peter tied to you?"

"Well, I was at least in a corner, but yeah. You get to the point where you'll try anything," said Tony, his eyes wide in remembrance. "And I mean, anything. Rosa taught me how to wrap him, and I'd just bounce around the house like a pogo stick until he finally fell asleep. But then once he was asleep it was like he could sense just the slightest change in barometric pressure or something, 'cause as soon as I'd even attempt to sit down he would jerk awake like I'd poked him with something and start screaming all over again. So after awhile I just started leaning against the wall, and… yeah. Not exactly the deepest sleep you could get, but still better than nothing."

Steve shook his head, his mind already creating a mental picture so he could attempt to sketch it out later. "I actually do wish I could've been here then," he said, his fingers tightening around Tony's. "I would've loved to have been able to raise him with you from the beginning."

"Nah," Tony said with a slight shake of his head. He gave Steve one of those self-deprecating looks that he loathed. "I was pretty much an asshole to anyone who wasn't Pete back then, so I doubt you would've liked me all that much. You should ask Rhodey, I'm sure he'd have some pretty good stories to share."

"You were a single dad to what sounds like a very needy baby," Steve pointed out. "I'm sure you were doing the best that you could. And I find it very hard to believe that I wouldn't have liked you."

"That's just 'cause you love me now," Tony said with a rather sly grin. "But back then, I was… well, I was pretty much what everyone said I was. Snobby, aloof, snarky, cold… that whole Merchant of Death persona. Kinda like Howard, I guess, except not at all with Pete."

"Mmm," Steve mumbled, frowning. He had suspicions that a lot of what Tony liked to call his pre-Afghanistan personality had been carefully moulded by Obadiah and didn't at all reflect his true inner self. But Steve couldn't even think about Obadiah anymore without his blood boiling in rage, so he didn't bring it up.

Instead, he wiggled himself forward so he could reach Tony's forehead, planting a kiss there. "I love you," he whispered. "Try and sleep now, okay? Don't they always say to sleep while the child sleeps?"

"Yeah, but that advice usually applies when the aforementioned child is a baby, not when they're a teenager."

"Even so," Steve said with a light chuckle. "You're tired. You should go to sleep."

"Mmm," Tony muttered, wrinkling his nose. "But are you absolutely sure about that cake that we ordered? I mean, I know you love strawberries, but I'm not quite sure about that glaze and I still don't think that three tiers are gonna be enough, and—"

Steve silenced him with another kiss, cupping his chin in his palm. "I'm sure. Now please, go to sleep."

Tony let out a heavy sigh, but he nodded anyway. "You should sleep too, Papa bear. You obviously need it if you're forgetting something basic like shaving."

"We'll see," answered Steve as he kissed the tip of his nose. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

It only took about ten minutes for Tony to fall into a semi-deep sleep, a testament to how tired he really was, and the fact that Steve had managed to switch him to decaf at dinnertime. He had been burning the candle at both ends lately, trying to get all of the Avengers' equipment ready for their upcoming mission and making sure that Peter's security team was in place for while they were gone, a team that rivaled any presidential Secret Service detail. Tony had assigned no less than twenty of Happy's best people to various stations in and around both the Tower and Peter's school, and while Steve might have thought it was all perhaps just a tiny bit excessive before the whole showdown with HYDRA, he no longer felt that way. Steve had even informed Happy to order his people to arrest Obadiah Stane on sight if he dared to show his face anywhere between the Tower and the school, if in fact he was still alive like they suspected. So far they hadn't been able to find any evidence in the HYDRA documents as to whether or not he was still alive, so Steve wasn't going to take any chances until they were absolutely sure.

Stane had already managed to hurt Peter once, there was no way Steve was going to allow it to happen again. That plus the fact that Peter couldn't remember anything about what happened to him while he was under the influence of that experimental drug ate away at Steve's insides like nothing ever had before. He had seen some horrifying examples of prisoner torture during the war, and the fact that a bunch of terrorists had taken his beloved child and drugged him so they could do who-knows-what to him, it was enough to make Steve want to punch through a wall.

Which he had, actually, just a couple of days prior. At least this time he'd only managed to bruise his knuckles, but it had been bad enough to induce one of Tony's overprotective fits.

"Never again," he whispered as he kissed Peter's forehead. He pulled back to look at him, marveling at how closely he resembled Tony in that moment. They both had the same curly brown hair, the same brown eyes with the ridiculously long eyelashes, the same full lips that pouted slightly as they slept. Their hands were also very similar; they both had long, thin fingers that were so adept at creating and building things and gestured wildly as they talked. They even had a lot of the same mannerisms and facial expressions, and of course the windows into their souls that were their eyes.

At least, they were for Steve.

They were his boys, and he loved them both more than he had ever thought he could love anyone. So much so that the thought of anyone trying to hurt either one of them was almost too much for Steve to even contemplate.

"No one's ever gonna hurt you again, little guy," Steve murmured into Peter's hair. "Not while I'm here, I promise you."

Never again. Not while I'm still breathing.

Steve's palm was sweaty against Tony's, his heart beating a staccato rhythm against his ribcage as he, Tony, and Peter stepped off the elevator and headed towards the anteroom, where Bruce, Natasha, and Helen Cho were all waiting.

"Morning, guys," Bruce said over his shoulder as he tapped notes into his computer station, his glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose.

"Good morning, Bruce," Steve replied, his voice trailing off as he caught sight of Bucky through the window. Bucky was sitting up on the massive bed with a black chess king clutched in his right hand, rocking slightly back and forth and mumbling under his breath in what Steve assumed to be Russian. He looked thin, sad, and completely overwhelmed, nothing like the faceless assassin he had been forced to be for the last seventy years.

"Can you understand any of what he's saying?" he asked Natasha.

"Some of it," she replied. "A lot of it's just gibberish, but we've been able to identify a few random words that he keeps repeating. None of them make any sense, but we've been keeping track of them just in case."

"What words?" Steve asked.

Natasha gave a shrug. "Freight train, rusted, and homecoming, to name a few. We haven't been able to find any correlation between them, but we're still looking."

Steve's heart gave a painful lurch as he remembered the battle on Zola's HYDRA train that had led to Bucky's apparent death. "He fell from a train, maybe it has something to do with that. It wasn't exactly what I would call a freight train, but it might mean something."

"It might," said Natasha. "Like I said, we're still looking. The encryption on the files regarding the Winter Soldier has been a bit harder to crack than some of the rest, which again, isn't all that surprising."

Steve nodded as he tightened his hand on Peter's shoulder, feeling it tremble ever-so-slightly as Peter stifled a yawn, covering his mouth with his hand while Steve swallowed back his own yawn. Peter had been able to sleep a bit better the previous night, but Steve hadn't been able to quiet his own mind down enough to sleep all that much, too busy mapping strategies for their upcoming raids and trying to shut down images of Bucky attacking Peter that kept threatening to take hold. He had to believe that Peter could get through to Bucky. Otherwise, he wasn't sure what else they would be able to do for him.

And through all of it he was trying desperately to keep on the brave face that he knew Tony and Peter and the rest of the team expected of him. He was Captain America, the team leader. He was supposed to know what to do and how to do it, even if he had no clue at all, 'cause then he was just supposed to fake it.

And Steve hated being fake. It reminded him too much of his dancing-monkey, war bond propaganda days.

"So he's actually had a pretty good morning this morning, Captain," Helen said, clearing her throat. "He ate a decent breakfast, the most he's ever eaten at one time, and while it's still not nearly enough calories to maintain him with his enhanced metabolism, it's at least a step in the right direction."

"That's good," Steve answered, latching onto the small glimmer of hope. "One of his favourite fruits are plums, or at least they used to be, so maybe once he's eating better we can get some of those for him."

"That's actually a good idea," Helen said as she made a note in her tablet. "I'll have some brought up."

"Okay, so, what's the plan here?" Tony asked, rather impatiently. "Is Pete just supposed to saunter in there and say 'hey' and hope that he doesn't get attacked?"

Bruce removed his glasses, raising his eyebrows. "I'll get on the intercom and let him know that Peter is coming in. We've noticed that Sergeant Barnes appreciates when his visitors are announced as opposed to just barging in, which is understandable. And then—"

"We see what happens," said Tony, his brow furrowed in concern and fatigue. His sleep had been fitful as well, plagued by nightmares which required Steve to try and comfort him multiple times. He eventually ended up sandwiched in the middle of the bed, holding Peter and Tony on either side with both of their heads resting on his chest.

"Yeah, pretty much," answered Bruce. "Like I said, this is all pretty new to everyone, so—" He broke off as he handed Peter an earpiece, not unlike what the team used out in the field for their comms. "This way we can give you instructions as we go, or if he says anything that you don't understand then Natasha can translate for you. Okay?"

"Uh huh," answered Peter.

"Yeah, yeah, big guy," Tony muttered. "Then let's get going, shall we?"

"I agree. Are you ready, little guy?" Steve asked, a knot rising in his throat when Peter looked up at him, giving him a determined nod.

"Yeah, Papa, I'm ready," Peter said bravely. "After I introduce myself, I thought I'd ask him if he wanted to play chess with me. Is that okay?"

"Buddy, I don't think that's something that you—" Tony started.

"I think that's a great idea, Peter," Steve cut in. "I'm sure Bucky will appreciate it."

"Steve—!"

"Tony, we're trying to gain Bucky's trust here, and in order to do that I think it'll be better if Peter acts like he's visiting a sick friend in the hospital rather than yet another person who's just trying to interrogate him," Steve said gently. He squeezed Tony's hand, trying to offer what reassurance he could. "I promise, he's gonna be okay."

"And here comes the promises again," grumbled Tony as his shoulders sagged. "Fine, but it's just gonna be a quick game, okay, buddy? None of those three-hour marathons that you and Uncle James usually get into."

"I know, Dad."

Tony huffed as he took Peter's face in his hands, kissing his forehead. "If you sense anything, any danger, anything at all that seems weird to you, then you get the hell right out of there, do you understand me? We're all gonna be watching you from right here."

"I know, Dad, you've told me that multiple times," Peter said, rather impatiently. "I'm gonna be fine."

"Good. Then let's get this over with, yeah?"

"All right," said Bruce. He winked at Peter as he pressed the button for the intercom. "Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky's head snapped up at the sound of his name, his frightened eyes flitting around the room as his grip on the chess piece increased. It was so reminiscent of how confused and frightened Steve felt when he was first defrosted that tears sprang to his eyes. Poor Bucky probably had no idea what was really happening, or that he had spent the last seventy years being used as an assassin for the very organisation that he and Steve had fought so hard to eliminate.

"Sergeant Barnes?" Bruce repeated. "There's someone here who'd like to come in and speak with you, is that okay? His name is Peter."

Several seconds passed as they waited for Bucky to respond, finally giving an almost imperceptible nod.

"All right, kiddo, you're up," said Bruce. "And like Tony said, if that special premonition-sense thingy of yours starts acting up, you just get the heck outta there, okay?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay, Sergeant, here he comes," Bruce said over the intercom. "There's no need to be afraid, he's not gonna hurt you."

Tony flinched as the door buzzed open, moving closer to Steve as Peter cautiously stepped inside. Bucky immediately looked over at him, his face a blank canvas as Peter approached his bedside.

"Hello, Sergeant Barnes," Peter said, only slightly wobbly. "How—, how're you doing?"

Bucky didn't reply at first, remaining impassive as he looked Peter up and down. Steve thought he might have sensed a flicker of recognition in Bucky's eyes, but just as it had been up on that D.C. rooftop it was there and then gone again so fast that he couldn't be sure.

Maybe he thinks Peter looks like Howard?

"Кто ты?" Bucky finally said, low and gravelly.

Peter's eyes widened as he glanced toward the window. "Um…"

"He's asking 'who are you', kiddo," answered Natasha. She glanced furtively at Steve, who nodded. "Go ahead and tell him your name."

"Okay," Peter whispered. He straightened his shoulders as he turned to face Bucky again. "I'm Peter. Peter Stark-Rogers."

Bucky's eyes went wide at Peter's response, his hand twirling the chess piece stilling as he once again looked Peter up and down, almost like he was scanning him.

"Застывший?" Bucky asked. "Роджерс?"

"He just repeated your last name, kiddo," Natasha said. "Go head and say it again."

"Do you think he recognises it? Both of those names would be familiar to him," Steve asked as he patted Tony's hand, which was clinging so tightly to his arm that his knuckles were white.

"It's possible," Natasha answered with a slight shrug. "Go ahead and say it again, Peter."

"I'm Peter Stark-Rogers," Peter said, this time with more emphasis on each name. "My dad is Tony Stark, and my papa is Steve Rogers."

Steve gulped as Bucky looked toward the window, his blue eyes blinking rapidly. "Застывший Роджерс?"

"Uh huh," Peter said with a friendly smile. "Do you know those names? My papa told me that you're his friend."

Bucky stared at Peter for several seconds, as if trying to figure out if he was telling the truth until he glanced toward the window again.

"Стив?"

"That's 'Steve', he said 'Steve'," Natasha said quickly as Steve's heart started to thud. "Tell him 'yes', Peter."

"Yeah, that's right," Peter said, bobbing his head. "My papa's name is Steve Rogers."

It happened so fast that no one except Peter had time to react. Bucky's eyes flicked back to the window, narrowing just as he pulled back his metal left fist and aimed it directly for Peter's head. Steve gasped as Peter immediately caught the fist in his hand as if it were nothing more than one of Steve's baseballs, holding it steady as his eyes bored into Bucky's.

"Get him the hell out of there!" shrieked Tony. "Buddy, you get the hell outta there right now!"

"Not yet, Dad, I can do this!" Peter answered, not taking his eyes off of Bucky. "I'm not gonna hurt you, Sergeant Barnes. You don't have to be scared of me. My name is Peter Stark-Rogers, and I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise that none of us are gonna hurt you. We just want to help you."

"Get him out of there before he can provoke that lunatic again!" Tony demanded as he yanked hard on Steve's arm. "Right now, get him—!"

"Wait, Tony, please," Steve pleaded as Bucky yanked his arm back from Peter's grasp, flexing his metal hand. He tilted his head, his expression one of confusion mixed with shock. "Just… wait, sweetheart, please. I think—I think he's gonna be okay."

"Застывший Роджерс?" Bucky said again. "Стив?"

"That's right," answered Peter. "Steve Rogers is my papa."

"Стив."

"Uh huh. Steve Rogers. He's my papa."

At that Bucky looked directly at the window, the corners of his lips twitching.

"Стивичик."

"Uhh, he said, 'little Steve'," Natasha said, smirking slightly as she looked up at Steve. "Is that what he used to call you?"

Steve's cheeks flushed pink as Tony shot him look of mirth combined with barely-concealed jealousy. "He used to call me Stevie when we were kids," he said. "And maybe some when we were adults too, before the serum." He'd never cared too much for that particular nickname, especially since it was always what Bucky called him whenever he'd had to bail Steve out of a fight, but he wasn't about to say that now.

"Yeah, that's him," Peter said to Bucky. "He's my papa, and your friend."

Bucky flinched at the word 'friend', his right hand curling around the chess piece with a white-knuckled grip. "У меня нет друзей."

Natasha gave a sigh. "He said, 'I don't have any friends'."

Peter slowly shook his head. "I don't believe that, Sergeant," he said. "My papa doesn't tell lies, so if he said that you're his friend then I believe him, and that also makes you my friend too." He paused as he stepped over to the bookshelf against the far wall, selecting the wooden chess set sitting on the top. "Would you wanna play a game with me?"

Bucky's brow furrowed, his head tilting in confusion as he stared Peter down, with Peter staring back just as intently. Steve could've sworn he saw a flicker of a smile cross Bucky's lips before it vanished.

"Yes," Bucky said in English. "A game."

"Oh, good job, little guy, you're doing great!" Steve exclaimed, unable to contain his elation. This was going far better than he'd even dared to hope.

"Just like I said," muttered Tony, with far less enthusiasm. "Charming the socks off an alligator."

"He is good, I'll give him that," said Natasha. "I don't think you could get much sweeter than that boy of yours, Tony."

"Yeah, well, he gets that from Steve," Tony grumbled. "Look, the guy already took a swing at him! How long are we gonna let him stay in there?"

"Bucky knows that he's not a threat now, Tony," Steve said. "I don't think he's gonna do something like that again."

"You don't think?" Tony retorted. "Damnit, Steve, this is Peter we're talking about! You don't think isn't good enough!"

"Quiet, you guys!" Natasha hissed. "Barnes can probably hear you!"

"Tony, this is the most calm Barnes has been with anyone since he got here," Bruce said. "I don't think it would do him any good if we pulled Peter out right now."

Tony bit his lip, his brown eyes glaring bullets at Bruce. Finally, he nodded.

"Fine. But you better be prepared to go full-on Hulk if Barnes so much as looks at Peter in a way that I don't appreciate, you got that?"

"Yeah, Tony, I got it," Bruce said evenly. "I promise that none of us want anything bad to happen to Peter."

Steve curled his arm around Tony's shoulders and moved them both closer to the window, watching as Peter finished setting up the chess board. "It's gonna be okay, sweetheart," he whispered. "Please, you just have to trust me."

Tony's eyes flicked up to meet his, only for a second. "Yeah. I hope so."

"Okay, so, since I'm the white pieces I need to go first," Peter said as gently as possible, smiling when Sergeant Barnes nodded once. He moved his initial pawn carefully, not wanting to set Sergeant Barnes off again even as he could still feel the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins at being able to fend off the sergeant's attack. It was an exhilarating feeling, and one he hadn't experienced quite to that extent before. Sparring with Papa was fun, as Papa now knew just how hard he could push Peter and didn't usually hold back too much, but blocking Sergeant Barnes' punch had been something completely different.

Peter had just demonstrated to both himself and everyone watching that he could go up against a so-called bad guy and win. He had felt the ice bolt race down his spine right before Sergeant Barnes swung his fist, his lightning-fast reflexes had been spot on, and his display of strength had shocked pretty much everyone, including himself, if he was being completely honest. And, from the look of shock on Sergeant Barnes' face no one had ever caught one of his punches like that before, and that only reinforced Peter's desire to get out there and start helping people.

And with both of his dads leaving on their HYDRA raid in a couple of days, it was the perfect time to finish his suit and get started.

He had already laid down some of the groundwork, asking permission to stay after school to work in the Robotics Lab with Ned twice a week, so Sam and Happy knew not to pick him up until just before dinnertime on those days. Shaking the literal legion of security people stationed around the school presented another roadblock, but Peter had always been pretty sneaky—and his new ability to climb up the walls and crawl on the ceilings definitely helped with that—and so felt certain that he could slip out of the school unnoticed. He had already decided to concentrate his patrols in Queens instead of Manhattan, the main reasons being that Queens was relatively close to home and was a bit rougher, giving him more opportunities to fight petty crime.

Friendly, neighbourhood Spider-Man, Peter thought as he took one of Sergeant Barnes' bishops, hearing Dad's breath hitch in his ear as he gave Sergeant Barnes a tentative grin.

"Maybe don't try and beat him, Pete?" Dad said, in that sort of rapid-fire tone he always used when he was being extra twitchy. "I don't really feel like watching him take another swing at you."

"Mmm," Peter replied, wincing as Sergeant Barnes retaliated by taking one of his knights. He definitely knew how to play chess. "Don't think you need to worry about that. I only have eight pieces left."

"Шах," said Sergeant Barnes as he moved his rook two spaces over from Peter's king, trapping it between the rook and his remaining bishop. He looked up at Peter, the corners of his lips twitching into the slightest of smiles.

"He said, 'check', Peter," said Natasha. "And from here, it looks like it might be—"

"Nope, not yet," Peter said triumphantly as he moved his queen diagonally to take the bishop, protecting his king from further attack. He sat back on his heels, waiting.

Sergeant Barnes' gaze dropped to the board, studying it for several seconds before poking his king with his metal index finger, toppling it over.

"Шах и мат," he said, which Peter assumed meant 'checkmate'.

"Yep, that's checkmate. Good game, Sergeant," Peter said. He smiled as he offered Sergeant Barnes his hand, watching as he stared at it for several seconds before finally taking it. "I'd like to play with you again sometime, if you'd like that?"

Sergeant Barnes' eyes flicked over to the window, then back to Peter.

"Стив," he said quietly.

"Yeah, that's right," Peter answered, just as softly. "That's my papa, and your friend. I'm better at chess than he is, but he can come in and watch us play sometime if you want." He paused, watching as Sergeant Barnes blinked several times, almost like he was trying to clear an unpleasant image from his head.

"Да," replied Sergeant Barnes.

"Great!" Peter exclaimed. "I'll let him know, it'll make him really happy."

Sergeant Barnes nodded again as Peter got up from the bed, returning the chessboard to its place on the bookshelf. He had just taken a couple of steps towards the door when Sergeant Barnes spoke up again.

"Птер," he said.

"That's your name, kiddo," came Natasha's voice in Peter's ear.

"Yeah?" answered Peter, turning to look at him.

"My name is Bucky," he said in English.

A huge grin split Peter's face, imagining the similar grin lighting up his papa's face at hearing Sergeant Barnes remember his childhood nickname. "Bucky," he said. "It's nice to meet you. And I think your metal arm is super cool."

Bucky frowned as he looked down at his metal hand, his shaggy hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

"You're welcome," Peter answered.

The door buzzed open then, and Peter barely had time to step through before Dad's arms were around him, crushing him so hard against him that Peter felt the arc reactor pressing into his own chest.

"Good God, Pete, you really went all in while you were in there, didn't you?" he rasped into Peter's ear. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"That was amazing, little guy," Papa said as his arms circled around both Peter and Dad. "Better than I could've ever hoped. You even helped him remember his name."

"I agree, kiddo," Bruce said, rapidly typing notes into his workstation. He shot Dad a wary glance. "I'm thinking that he and Sam should try and come down here at least every other day while we're gone, Tony. I don't want Barnes' progress to backslide now. Sam can observe them the first few times, and then once Peter thinks Barnes is ready he can reintroduce him to Sam and we can go from there."

"I'm okay with that if you guys are," Peter said. It definitely meant that he was going to be kept busy while his dads were gone, but Peter far preferred being busy to being bored.

"Tony?" said Papa, his eager face belying his casual tone. "Is that all right with you? I'm sure Happy wouldn't mind standing guard if we ask."

Dad's eyebrows knitted together, giving Papa one of his playfully-frustrated looks. "What're you asking me for? From what I can see I'm pretty outnumbered here, so—"

"Tony," Papa said reproachfully, earning him another frown. "You know that's not true. We won't do this if you don't agree."

"Fine," Dad finally said. "But only if both Sam and Happy are down here with you." He huffed out a sharp breath as he ruffled Peter's hair. "You might wanna brush up on your Russian a bit, bud."

"I'm hoping that as Barnes gets more comfortable with us that he'll start speaking English more often," said Bruce. "That was the first time we've heard him say anything in English since he's been here."

"And all thanks to Pete," Dad said. He planted a kiss on Peter's temple, pulling back to look at him. "Now you have to be getting hungry, so we should probably feed you before you pass out, yeah?"

"Great idea," said Papa. "And then I think we've earned another movie night tonight, don't you think, little guy?"

"Yeah!" Peter said eagerly. "And I think it's even my choice since Papa picked the last time."

"Gotta get your homework done first, buddy," Dad said. "And when you're done with that I could use your help in the lab for a bit too." He shot Peter a wink out of Papa's view, and Peter grinned in reply. Dad was making Papa's wedding ring himself and had asked for Peter's help with the inscription for the inside, just like Papa had asked for Peter's help with Dad's ring that he'd had made at a jeweler's. Dad had also purchased a beautiful custom compass watch from Cartier to give to Papa as a wedding gift, and had asked Peter to help him come up with an inscription for that as well.

"That sounds awesome!" Peter said. He was so excited for their wedding day to finally arrive that he could barely contain it.

We've already hit rock-bottom, so things can only get better from here, Peter thought as they said goodbye to the rest of the team and made their way back up to the penthouse. The stuff that he and his dads had endured over the last two years had been horrible at times, but here they all were, planning a wedding along with their next Avengers' mission and helping Papa's oldest friend regain his lost memories. They were proving to HYDRA—and any other bad guys who dared to cross them—that good will always triumph over evil.

Peter gasped as he came to, immediately choking on the thick dust still settling around him and permeating throughout the stale air. It was almost completely dark, and he was so tired that his vision was going completely wonky, almost like he was trapped in some sort of haunted, psychedelic honeycomb.

What the hell had happened?

"Oh my God!" Peter squeaked as he realised that his entire body was completely pinned underneath what felt like at least three tons of rock. He shifted slightly, attempting to free at least one of his arms and trying desperately to avoid hyperventilating. The last thing he needed was to pass out again.

What the hell had happened?

Why couldn't he remember?

Peter squeezed his eyes closed, trying to concentrate on his breathing as the memories started coming back in tiny snippets, almost as quick as a flash of a camera. One second he had been strapped down on that uncomfortable metal gurney, surrounded by people with glowing eyes while the guy who looked like he'd stepped off the deck of a Mediterranean yacht hovered over him, and the next second he was…

Burning hot tears welled up behind Peter's closed eyelids as more memories suddenly came rushing back like a tidal wave, flooding his exhausted mind with terror and grief.

There had been a fight inside the cave. Papa had managed to work himself free, and then he had come looking for Peter, and then—, and then—

"Oh God, no!" Peter cried. "Papa's dead!"

Shadow Man had activated that device he always kept in his jacket pocket and—

Papa had screamed. He had screamed like Peter had never heard him scream before, but only for a second or two before he fell completely silent, hitting the floor of the cave with such a sickening crunching sound that Peter would have thrown up if he'd had anything worthwhile in his stomach.

And the silence that followed the scream was even worse.

Because whatever Shadow Man's device had done, it had completely ripped Papa's breath from his lungs, leaving him to suffocate. It was the most horrific kind of torture that Peter could imagine for his beloved father.

"Papa!" Peter gasped as he turned his head, trying to get a glimpse of his fallen papa who was lying a few metres away, his body grotesquely twisted and his face covered in a spider-web of broken blood vessels, with another trail of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His broken shield was propped up next to him, the jagged edges taunting Peter, showing him that not even Captain America was strong enough to resist the strength of the fire monsters and the Winter Soldiers.

The same Winter Soldiers who took their orders from that creepy Shadow Man, the man whose voice was so eerily familiar that the mere sound of it was enough to raise all of the hair on the back of Peter's neck.

Who was it?

Think, Peter, think!

"Daddy!" he cried as the rubble covering his back and legs shifted even more, crushing him under its weight. He wouldn't be able to breathe for too much longer. "Daddy, help me! I'm down here, I'm stuck, I can't move!"

But the only reply was the sound of shifting bits of rock, and his own voice echoing against what was left of their cave prison.

In all honesty, Peter didn't even know if Dad was still alive, because he hadn't even seen him in…

How long had it been since he'd seen Dad?

Oh God, how long had it been?

"Daddy!" Peter screamed, desperate to ward off the panic threatening to overwhelm him. It was almost pitch black, he was trapped underneath shifting rock, and he had no idea if either of his dads were still alive.

Tears tracked down through the dust covering his cheeks as he inhaled as deeply as he could.

"Daddy! Daddy, are you there? Please, help me!"

I don't wanna die! Please, don't let me die!

Don't let me die.

Not like this.

"Peter, wake up!" said a sharp voice as a pair of cold hands gripped Peter's shoulders, gently shaking him. "It's just a bad dream, kiddo, you just gotta wake up!"

Peter gasped as his eyes flew open, blinking rapidly as they attempted to focus in on the concerned face of someone who was not one of his dads.

"Ah!" Peter cried, jerking so far backwards on his bed that he banged his head on the headboard.

"Hey there, it's okay, it's just me," Sam Wilson said gently. He reached for the water bottle on Peter's bedside table, twisting off the cap. "Here. Your throat has to be raw with how loud you were screaming."

"Uhh…" Peter stuttered, trying to swallow but only managing to choke. He tipped back the bottle, whimpering at the contrast of the cool water against his burning hot throat.

"Better?" Sam asked once Peter had downed nearly half the bottle.

"Uh huh," answered Peter. He slumped back against his sweat-dampened pillows, swiping his hand across his forehead. "I'm—I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Nah, you don't have to be sorry, kiddo," said Sam. "I know it's tough on you with your dads gone."

Peter scoffed as he turned away, embarrassed. He wasn't a baby anymore, for heaven's sake. He should be able to sleep through the night without crying for his daddies.

"Not like they haven't been gone before," he muttered. "It's kinda in their job description. I should be used to it by now."

"Well, yeah, I know," Sam said as he placed a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder. "But things are a bit different now, aren't they?"

"I guess."

"Yeah. You wanna talk about it?"

"No," answered Peter. He wrapped his arms around his front, suppressing a shiver. Not real. It wasn't real. It was only a nightmare.

"Well, all right. But just try and remember that it's okay to be afraid of change, kiddo," Sam said. "And it doesn't mean that you're weak. It just means that you're human."

"Mmm," grumbled Peter. More like a human/spider mutant, but whatever. "If you say so."

Sam quirked an eyebrow as he took the water bottle from Peter's hand. "Okay, well, why don't you hit the shower while I get your sheets changed, yeah? I think you'll sleep better if your bed isn't stinky."

Peter gave a quick nod as he stumbled towards his dresser for some fresh pyjamas, berating himself for being so grumpy with Sam. He knew Sam was a really nice guy who was just trying to help, and who had already managed to slot himself in with the rest of their family so well it was as if he'd always been there.

Plus, he had already started talking with both Dad and Papa, trying to help them work through their post-battle traumas, as Papa called them, and had managed to hold a five minute conversation with Bucky Barnes, three minutes of which were in English.

Sam was a great addition to their Avengers' team, Peter just wished that he could just be Uncle Sam instead of Shrink Sam. He didn't want to have to talk about the dreams that haunted his sleep every night. He would've far preferred to just forget about them.

Not real. They're not real. Papa isn't dead and Dad isn't missing, they're just out of town. I just talked to them before bed and they were both fine.

It wasn't real.

Emerging from the bathroom, Peter found his bed made up with the same precision and hospital corners as Papa would have done, and the sight of it was enough to make him want to cry. As stupid as it might've been, he missed his dads when they were gone. Even though their absence was allowing him to go on his new Spider-Man patrols, he still missed them.

In fact, his Spider-Man patrols were probably the only thing keeping Peter relatively sane lately.

"There ya go, kiddo," Sam said as Peter crawled onto the bed, burrowing down under the clean blankets and wishing for the umpteenth time that his beloved polar bear hadn't perished in the Malibu house bombing. "You sure you don't wanna talk about anything?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," answered Peter. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. You got your alarm set for school?"

"Uh huh. JARVIS does it for me."

Sam gave him a rather sly grin. "Yeah, I bet he does. And I will admit, JARVIS does come in pretty handy."

"Why, thank you, Mr Wilson," said JARVIS. "I am pleased that you find my services useful."

"Thank you, Uncle Sam," Peter said, smiling as Sam's grin grew even wider. "For everything."

"Like I said, don't mention it," Sam replied as he ruffled Peter's hair. "Now, go back to sleep, yeah? I'm tired."

"Uh huh."

As soon as the door closed behind Sam, Peter sat back up, scrubbing at his eyes with his palm. Despite what he thought were brave words, the nightmare had shaken him more than he wanted to let on, and he was not in any hurry at all to go back to sleep.

Not real. It's not real.

Papa's not dead, and Dad isn't missing. They're just on their mission.

It wasn't real. It was just a bad dream.

"Would you like me to turn on the rain sounds, Master Peter?" JARVIS asked after a couple of minutes.

Peter sighed as he flopped back down, wrapping his arms around one of his spare pillows.

"Yes, please."

A second later the soothing sound of falling rain filled the room. "Is there anything else I can do to help, Master Peter?" asked JARVIS.

"No, I don't think so," Peter said sadly. "But thanks anyway."

"You are quite welcome."

Not real, Peter thought as he drifted off to sleep. It wasn't real.

It was just a dream.

"I can't believe your dads are still making you skip out on Robotics Lab," Ned whined as Peter finished tying his shoes. They had just gotten done with gym class, which was always a lesson in painful restraint for Peter. The urge to show off some of his new skills was hard to beat down, especially when Flash Thompson took such delight in teasing him about taking ballet lessons with Auntie Nat. If he only knew how handy those lessons were coming in now. There was no way Peter would be able to handle swinging on his webs and switching between them as well as he did without the posture and core work that he'd learned from ballet.

"Yeah, well, you know how paranoid they are," Peter said with a shrug. "And it's even worse when they're out of town. Maybe after the wedding they'll calm down a bit."

"Maybe," Ned grumbled. "That's not even a definite 'yes'. We're gonna get so far behind, Peter!"

"It's not like it's an actual assignment," Peter said, ducking under the flailing arm of another student as they made their way down the hallway towards chemistry. "It's for extra credit." Which I don't even need in the first place.

"So? It's still fun! And it's not like your dad ever lets me come over to work on stuff anymore. I haven't been to the Tower in months!"

"I know, Ned, and I'm sorry about that, okay?" Peter snapped, regretting his harsh words when Ned's face fell. "It's—, there's just a lot of stuff going on right now with everything that's happened, and Dad just doesn't wanna have to worry about extra people in the building. You still get to come to the wedding through, so at least there's that, right?"

Instantly Ned's face bloomed into a huge grin. "Oh yeah! The wedding is all my mom's been talking about lately! She even made Dad take her to Neiman Marcus to shop for a new dress, and she booked a spa day at SoHo for the day before! She's acting like it's her own wedding!"

"Yeah, well, it is kinda the wedding of the year," Peter said, only half-joking. He'd lost track of how many gossip columnists had devoted their precious column inches to writing about his dads' upcoming nuptials in the last few weeks. Speculation about the guest list, the menu, the baker, and who was designing their suits was running rampant, and while Peter was definitely looking forward to it, he was also looking forward to when it would be over just so they could get back to normal.

Or at least our messed-up, Avengers' family version of normal.

Arriving in the chemistry lab, Peter plunked his books down onto the counter and grabbed his goggles, sliding them on as Ned fired up their Bunsen burner. As soon as the teacher began his lecture Peter snuck his hand down into the bottom drawer of the cabinet, pulling out the extra cartridges of web fluid he had stashed in there the day before and slipping them into his pocket. So far he'd been able to keep up with manufacturing his web fluid at home, but he'd been too paranoid to actually store it there.

As soon as the class was over Peter said goodbye to Ned and raced for his locker, pulling out his backpack where he'd stashed his suit and web shooters. Once the coast was relatively clear he headed down the hallway and slipped inside one of the study hall classrooms. Peter had discovered a couple of months ago that this particular classroom had a broken latch on one of its windows which allowed it to be opened from both the inside and the outside, and it was also hidden behind a rather dense clump of bushes, making it extremely difficult for the security people to see from their sentry posts. All Peter had to do was shimmy out the window and crawl along the outside wall until he reached the alleyway that led to the subway station, where he was able to make his escape.

And, he had even thought to clone the transponder for his phone and hide it under one of the tables in the Robotics Lab, so if any of the security people were to check on his whereabouts—or JARVIS or his dads, for that matter—it would still look like he was in the Robotics Lab instead of flying around between the tall buildings of Queens.

Peter kept his head down on the train, careful to avoid meeting anyone's eyes. He was wearing what he liked to call the requisite Avenger disguise—a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses, the glasses being one of the special pairs that Dad had made to help him focus when he was tired—but he was still paranoid about getting recognised. His dads were some of the most famous people in New York, even the country, and Peter had experienced more than his fair share of people stopping him on the street.

Arriving in Queens, Peter exited the train station and made a beeline for the alleyway where he usually hid his stuff during his patrols. After practically inhaling the footlong sandwich that he'd packed and downing a bottle of Powerade, Peter checked to make sure that the coast was clear and changed into his suit. In addition to the glasses, Dad had made him some special undergarments to help maintain his body temperature during the fall and winter months, and they worked so well that Peter had made his suit out of the same fabric. Even so, he was grateful for the extra warmth, especially since things tended to get a bit chilly once he started flying around.

So far none of his patrols had really amounted to all that much. Not wanting to make too much of a spectacle—as if a skinny teenage boy flying around on homemade spider webs wearing a tight red and blue suit and mask wasn't enough of a spectacle—Peter had mainly stuck with simple things. Helping old ladies cross the street, preventing a few bicycle thefts and shoplifting attempts, and one person who looked like he was trying to steal a car, so things hadn't been too intense as of yet.

And as it turned out, the guy hadn't actually been trying to steal the car, he had only been trying to retrieve the keys he had locked inside. But really, how was Peter supposed to have known that?

Pulling on his mask, Peter inhaled a deep breath and aimed his web shooter at the top of the building to his left, a huge grin splitting his face at the cool thwip sound it made as it shot out. As soon as the web had attached itself to the very top ledge of the building, Peter curled both of his hands around it and took off.

Once again it was a fairly quiet afternoon. Peter was able to thwart yet another shoplifting attempt and help a lady get her cat down from a tree branch, and was just starting to think about swinging back to collect his stuff when the harsh blare of sirens split the air, coming from a couple of blocks away.

"Oh, maybe this'll be something good!" Peter said as he took off swinging in the direction of the sirens, landing on top of a small apartment building as he scanned the streets below.

"There it is!" he said as a speeding pickup truck ran a red light with two police cars in pursuit. Peter immediately took off, managing to get ahead of the car just as it was approaching another intersection. Horns blared, and Peter gritted his teeth at the grating noise as he dropped down onto the street, shooting his webs at two lampposts perched on opposite corners. Using the webs as leverage, Peter jumped up and planted his feet directly into the front grille of the truck, halting it in its tracks with a spectacular squeal of tires and stopping it just in time to prevent it from t-boning a bus full of commuters.

"There," he said as he webbed the man's hands to the steering wheel, preventing him from escaping. "Don't you know that it's wrong to run away from the police, mister?"

"And who the hell are you, some wanna-be Avenger?" the man shot back as he struggled against the grip of the webbing.

"Maybe!" Peter said gleefully as he hurried away, managing to get clear just as the police caught up and surrounded the guy's car. He flew back to the alleyway at breakneck speed, changing back into his clothes so fast that he almost put his jeans on backwards and his shoes on the wrong feet. He was still zipping up his jacket as he took off for the subway station, barely managing to get on the train before the doors snapped shut. His heart was in his throat as the train ambled its way back towards Midtown, with just enough time for him to shimmy through the school window before Uncle Sam texted to say that he and Happy were waiting in the parking lot.

"Hey, kiddo. Have a good day?" Uncle Sam asked as Peter slid into the backseat of the car.

"Yeah," Peter said, trying to hide the fact that he was panting like he'd just ran a marathon. "Not too bad, actually." He sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "How's Sergeant Barnes doing?"

Sam bobbed his head. "Pretty good. I brought him some of my Nana's favourite gumbo today for lunch and he actually ate quite a bit of it, and even thanked me when he was done. He's starting to get up more often too, walk around the room a bit, so I'm gonna ask Steve if he thinks we should get him some exercise equipment or something so his body doesn't turn to mush while we're trying to figure out how to clear his head."

"Oh, I bet Papa will be happy to hear that," said Peter.

"Yeah, I hope so. Steve texted this morning saying that the team should be able to come home in the next couple of days. He said they had cleared out as much as they could where they were, so it won't be too much longer."

Peter's heart leapt at the news, and he tipped his head back, feeling the adrenaline seep from his body. It was easy to forget how much he missed his dads when he was busy, but as soon as he wasn't it just all came rushing back.

"That's good," he said quietly. "I miss them."

"Probably not as much as they miss you, kiddo," said Uncle Sam. He clapped Peter on the shoulder. "Bucky asked me if you were planning on visiting him tonight. I think he's ready for another chess rematch."

"Yeah, I can go see him after dinner if that's okay," Peter said. "I don't have that much homework."

They ended up eating the leftover gumbo for dinner, which was absolutely delicious—Uncle Sam was definitely a worthy challenger for Papa for being the best cook in the family—and after Peter finished his homework they headed down to visit Bucky, whose face lit up when he saw Peter.

Bucky's improvement was slow but steady, and everyone told Peter that a big part of his improvement was because of him. Bruce and Dad still hadn't been able to figure out the decryption key for most of the Winter Soldier files so they hadn't been able to get as much information on how Bucky had been brainwashed as they had originally hoped, but the fact that he was improving as well as he was overshadowed any irritation with the lack of information. That plus the fact that the HYDRA raids had been pretty successful—Thor had even shown up out of the blue for their second set of raids, and had decided to stick around afterwards for Dad and Papa's wedding—and Peter's confidence in his new abilities was increasing with every single patrol was almost enough to overpower the lingering uneasiness that Peter carried from his nightmares.

Maybe things really can be normal, Peter thought as Dad tucked his blankets up over his shoulder following the four-hour wedding rehearsal dinner. Uncle Thor had insisted on reciting some Asgardian marriage prayer that had taken over forty-five minutes before the dessert course could be served, requiring Dad to have to poke Uncle James awake once it was finally over. Papa had then said goodnight to Peter and headed downstairs to Uncle Sam's apartment for the night, saying that he didn't want Dad to see him again until the wedding.

"Hey, Petey," Dad said as he brushed Peter's hair off his forehead, leaning over to kiss him. Dad was obviously feeling nostalgic on the eve of his wedding; he hadn't called Peter that nickname since he was about five or six.

"Hey, Dad."

"Are you happy, bud?"

"Oh yeah," Peter replied without hesitation. "Are you?"

A bright smile lit up Dad's face. "Yeah, I am. More than I ever thought possible. I think we picked a good one, bud. We're both pretty damn lucky."

"Yeah, we did," agreed Peter. He curled his arms around his father's neck, pulling him down for a hug. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too," Dad said, kissing Peter's cheek. "Now, go to sleep. We can't have a best man with bags under his eyes now, can we?"

"No, probably not. Wouldn't wanna give those silly gossip people anymore ammunition."

"Ah, who cares what they think," Dad murmured. He traced Peter's cheek with his fingers, leaning down to kiss him again. "Sleep now, buddy. Tomorrow's a big day."

"Yeah. Goodnight," Peter whispered, watching as Dad left the room. He rolled onto his side, clutching his spare pillow to his chest.

It had been a long and bumpy road to get to this point, but seeing Dad happier than Peter had ever imagined possible was more than worth it.

It was even worth the nightmares.

"I believe ye're all set, Captain Rogers," said the elderly Scottish tailor as he tugged once more on the sleeves of Steve's suit jacket. He brushed his palms across the shoulders and stepped back, admiring his handiwork. "Yes, I believe ye'll do."

"Thank you very much," Steve said, swallowing down the nervousness that had plagued him ever since he'd said goodnight to Tony the night before. Steve had insisted that he and Tony sleep apart the night before, but the absence of Tony next to him in the bed meant that his sleep had been fitful at best, and now he found himself pacing around his dressing room waiting for things to get started. And for all of his outward patient appearance, Steve absolutely deplored waiting.

"I'll be leaving ye to go and check on Mr Stark now, Captain," the tailor said. "And the young master."

"Yes, thank you," replied Steve, smiling politely as the tailor gave a bow and exited the room. He walked over to the full-length mirror set up on the wall, huffing out a deep breath as he studied his reflection.

He did have to admit that the suits he and Tony chose were absolutely beautiful. The fabric was the softest and most luxurious grey Italian wool that Steve had ever felt in his life, and the workmanship was impeccable. From the suit itself to the custom-made silk shirts to the ties and even the shoes, it was all perfect, and while Steve had initially balked at what he considered the outrageous cost, he couldn't wait to see how handsome Tony looked.

A tentative knock on the door startled him from his thoughts.

"Come in."

A mass of brown curls poked around the door, followed by the sweet round face of his son, looking absolutely dashing in his own matching grey suit and purple tie and carrying Steve's boutonnière in one hand.

"Wow, Papa, you look really nice!" Peter exclaimed. "Dad's not gonna know what hit him when he sees you!"

Steve gave Peter a nervous smile as he curled his arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a quick hug. "Thanks, little guy. You look pretty good yourself."

"Thanks. Uncle James helped me get dressed since Dad was taking so long. Uncle Sam's been dressed for over twenty minutes already too, he said it was a military thing."

"And Uncle Sam is right," said Steve as he pinned on the boutonnière. "We're used to getting dressed on our own, and pretty efficiently at that, while—"

"Dad's definitely not," Peter finished. "Or at least he's not for something as big as this." He leaned in closer, whispering, "But wait til you see him. He looks really nice too."

Steve's lips immediately curved into a wide smile. "I bet he does. And I can't wait." He also couldn't wait for their wedding night—and the honeymoon, for that matter—but Peter didn't need to hear that. He and Tony hadn't been intimate since before they'd left on their last HYDRA raid, and Steve was definitely feeling it. There weren't very many opportunities for alone time while on missions, and they had only gotten home the day before the rehearsal dinner anyway, so Steve had asked to wait. Sort of as an homage to his deceased ma and his Catholic upbringing, as small as it might have been.

Even so, Steve believed that she would've been happy for him, even though he was marrying a man of Jewish heritage instead of one of the Irish Catholic girls that Steve had grown up with in Brooklyn. His ma had been a smart, perceptive lady who didn't miss much, and it was hard for Steve to believe that she hadn't had her suspicions about his sexuality long before even Steve knew for sure.

"Here, little guy, let me fix this a bit," he said as he straightened the knot of Peter's tie and brushed some invisible lint off his lapels. He cupped Peter's cheek in his hand when he was done, looking into his sweet brown eyes that were so very much like his father's. "I love you, Peter. You and Tony have made me happier than I ever thought possible, and I just—" he broke off as his eyes filled with tears, leaning down to kiss Peter's forehead. "I just—"

"It's okay, Papa," Peter whispered, giving Steve that adorable, boyish smile that never failed to melt his heart. "I love you too."

Another loud, single knock came from outside the door, with Sam stepping inside at Peter's invitation.

"Everyone's in their seats and your guy is finally ready," Sam said, grinning as he looked Steve up and down. "Well, well, well. You definitely clean up pretty good there, Cap. Not too shabby."

"Thanks," Steve said quietly. He shot Peter a wink, clapping his palm on the boy's shoulder. "You ready, little guy?"

"Yep!" Peter said. "Let's go!"

They made their way down the hallway to the Tower's ballroom, recently renamed the Maria Stark Memorial Ballroom in honour of Tony's mother. Peter veered off as they approached, heading for the opposite side to rejoin Tony and his attendants while Sam, Clint, Natasha, and Thor remained with Steve on his side.

The processional music began, and two by two the attendants entered from the opposite sides, taking their places near the front where Happy was waiting to officiate the ceremony. Steve let out a huge grin as he watched Peter step inside with Pepper on his arm, looking every bit the handsome young Stark that Steve imagined Tony was at his age.

And then, it was Steve's turn.

Steve's eyes were drawn to Tony as soon as he stepped inside, with his feet following almost on their own accord. As they approached each other, Steve's breath hitched when Tony winked at him just before the biggest, happiest smile Steve had ever seen lit up his beautiful face, giving Steve no choice but to mirror it with one of his own. As soon as they were close enough they linked hands, not taking their eyes off each other.

Tony was simply breathtaking, impeccably dressed with his hair perfectly in place. But even more importantly, he looked peaceful, and that was enough to quash any of Steve's lingering nerves.

"Tony," Steve whispered, barely able to get the word out. "You look—you're just—God, you're just so incredible!"

"Mmm. Right back at'cha, babe," Tony whispered back, rather slyly.

"All right," Happy said, clearing his throat. "If I can get these two to stop gawking at each other, I think we're ready to start."

There was a smattering of laughter from the guests, after which Happy recited a few things from something that Steve was too distracted to pay much attention to as he was still gaping in awe at his husband-to-be, so much so that he had to be prodded by Natasha when the time came to start reciting his vows.

Steve's grip on Tony's hands tightened as he looked deep into his beloved's eyes, clearing his throat.

"Tony," he started. "There's no way that I could possibly convey what you mean to me in just a few short sentences, but I'm going to try anyway." He paused to breathe in, glancing briefly at Peter for support.

"When I woke up in this era, I had nothing. I had no one. And I thought I could just jump right back in, keep serving like I always had, but it wouldn't've worked. I would've only been existing, not really living. My life would've been just a shell, moving from one mission to the next with no real meaning behind it."

He had to pause again when Tony squeezed his hands, biting his bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

"But then I met you and Peter, and even though it was under the most difficult of circumstances you still gave me a purpose, somewhere to belong. And then you gave me a home, and you gave me your heart, and you gave me a son, and I—" He broke off, swallowing against the huge lump in his throat as he held out his hand towards Peter, who placed Tony's ring in his palm. "I love you, and I love the family that we've created together, and with this ring, Anthony Edward Stark, I promise to love you and only you, for the rest of my life."

Tony looked down at his hand as Steve slid the ring onto his finger, curling his fingers into his palm once it was in place. Then he took Steve's hands in his again and breathed in, clearing his throat.

"Steve," he began, his melodic voice clear and strong. "I know I've told you this before, but I think since this is a rather momentous occasion that it bears repeating. When you saved my son's life out there in the middle of that godforsaken desert, you not only saved his life, you also saved mine. You saved me from continuing down the path that had turned me into my own worst enemy, and you did that simply by loving me without question or prejudice."

He paused to take a breath, his beautiful brown eyes glistening. "I am such a better person since we got together, but even more than that, you make me want to be better. You make me want to be the person that you think I am. You make me believe in myself, because you love me. I used to introduce myself by saying, 'you know who I am', but you, Steve, you truly know who I am, and I'm so damn lucky that you love me anyway." He sniffed as he turned towards Peter, holding out his hand for Steve's ring. "Steven Grant Rogers, with this ring I promise to love you and only you, for the rest of my life."

Steve gulped as Tony slid the ring onto his finger, curling his hand into a fist as soon as it was in place. The metal felt cool against his skin, and foreign, but Steve knew it wouldn't be long before he was used to it.

Then, as if on cue, they both turned to Happy.

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead and kiss!" Happy exclaimed. "I'm not gonna make you wait any longer."

Steve was reaching for Tony's face before Happy had even finished his sentence, smiling almost too much to even kiss Tony as the guests erupted into cheers.

"All right!" Sam exclaimed once they had kissed three more times. "Now let's get this party started!"

"Hell, yes!" added Clint. "I'm hungry, damnit!"

For all of the months of meticulous planning, the rest of the evening passed in a sort of dazed blur. Through the multitude of wedding photos, mingling with the guests, and then finally getting to have something to eat and cutting the exquisite cake, Steve didn't leave Tony's side for a single second, clinging tightly to his hand the whole time. And Tony was in his element, cracking jokes with the wealthy executives and charming the socialites as he always did, bragging about Peter and Steve and everyone else on the team while always downplaying his own contributions.

And when Clint tapped Steve on the shoulder, pointing off to the far corner where Sam was standing with an obviously nervous Bucky, Steve's heart swelled almost to the point of bursting when Tony voluntarily offered him his hand, thanking him for coming.

But the best part of it by far was when the lights dimmed and Steve led his new husband out onto the dance floor. They had practised dancing numerous times since Christmas, and while the song they ended up choosing for their first dance didn't exactly require much more than holding Tony close and swaying, Steve still cherished it. And as he wrapped his arm around Tony's waist and pulled him close, Steve breathed him in, closing his eyes as he inhaled the delectable scent that was Tony, whispering the song lyrics into his ear.

My head's under water but I'm breathing fine
You're crazy and I'm out of my mind

'Cause all of me
Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections

Give your all to me
I'll give my all to you
You're my end and my beginning
Even when I lose I'm winning

'Cause I give you all, all of me
And you give me all, all of you

"Thank you, sweetheart," Steve murmured as the song came to a close.

"For what?" asked Tony. "Marrying you? 'Cause that was easy. Now, that," and he jerked his head in the direction of the pasta bar, where Thor was filling probably his fifth plate while regaling Bruce with yet another story of some grand Asgardian battle that he'd won, or something like that. "That's what really scares me. I swear every time he claps me on the shoulder I lose three years of my life."

Steve grinned so widely that his face hurt. "Well, don't you worry. I promise to always protect you from the overenthusiastic, hammer-wielding Asgardian gods."

"For as long as we both shall live?" Tony said, quirking an eyebrow.

"Absolutely." Steve dipped his head to nuzzle Tony's temple, his belly swooping when Tony let out a soft moan.

"Babe, you keep that up and we'll have to make a pretty rapid exit," Tony murmured. He pressed a soft kiss to the underside of Steve's jaw, smirking when Steve's knees nearly buckled. "See? I can do it too."

"I'd be fine with making an exit soon," Steve said as he pulled Tony even closer, cursing the multiple layers of clothing between them. It had been far too long since he'd felt Tony's bare skin against his. "God, I can't wait to get my hands on you."

"That feeling is entirely mutual, hon. So why don't we start making the rounds, yeah? It's already gonna take longer than I have the patience for, and that patience is rapidly evaporating the longer you keep holding me." He pulled back, looking up at Steve and batting his eyelashes. "And have I told you yet how incredibly ravishing you look tonight, Captain Rogers?"

A shiver raced through Steve, and he cuddled Tony impossibly closer. "You are not making this easy."

Tony laughed at that, one of those delightful laughs that lit up his entire face and never failed to make Steve laugh right along with him. "Sorry honey, but you knew that about me a long time ago and you married me anyway, so I'm afraid now you're just gonna have to deal with it."

"And I will deal with it by getting us out of here as soon as it is appropriately possible," Steve said as he took Tony's hand, leading him towards the largest conglomeration of guests. "So let's get started."

Nearly two hours later, after absorbing all the congratulations and best wishes that they possibly could and then kissing Peter goodnight, they took the elevator to the special wedding night suite that Tony had designed in one of the spare studio apartments. As soon as they stepped inside and the door locked behind them Steve's mouth was on Tony's, kissing him with abandon.

"I have missed you!" Steve breathed against Tony's lips, desperate and needy as his hands went to work, sliding off Tony's suit jacket before starting in on his tie and shirt buttons, his shaking fingers fumbling as he attempted to work the tiny circles through the buttonholes. "It's been too long, sweetheart, I can't—"

"Damn right it has, baby. Want you naked," Tony murmured against his throat, loosening Steve's tie as Steve finally managed to get Tony's dress shirt undone and off. He then pulled Tony's undershirt from his waistband and slid his palms up his back, reveling in his husband's shudder as he raked his blunt nails across his smooth skin.

"Steve," Tony rasped, breathy and sensual, and Steve moaned as he slid his hands under Tony's ass, hauling him up and carrying him over to the turned-down bed, laying him on the lightly perfumed sheets. Steve crawled up to hover over him, looking into his husband's gorgeous brown eyes that were radiating so much love and desire that Steve could've almost drowned in it.

"I love you," he whispered, tracing his fingertips along Tony's jawline to his neck and chest. Tony shuddered as Steve reached the arc reactor framed by his dog tags, circling it before gently covering it with his palm. "I love you so much."

Tony's full lips curled into that soft smile that he reserved only for Steve. "I love you too, babe," he said. "And you're still wearing way too many clothes."

With that he tapped Steve on the shoulder, indicating for him to lie down. He then kicked off his shoes and socks and straddled Steve's hips, leaning down to kiss him while making quick work of his shirt buttons, cursing when Steve's shirt got stuck on the cuffs as he attempted to take it off.

"Not used to the cufflinks," Steve grumbled, tearing his lips away from Tony's just long enough to remove the diamond-encrusted jewels holding his shirt cuffs in place. As soon as his shirt and undershirt were off and tossed to the side Tony glided his palms up Steve's arms, across his collarbones, and down his pecs to his abs, which contracted at Tony's feather-light touch as he continued further down. For someone who was always working with his hands, Tony knew exactly how to use them.

"Tony!" Steve managed to say as Tony undid his belt and pants button, slipping one hand below the waistband. "Tony, please!"

"It's okay, babe, I've got you," Tony whispered as his glorious fingers finally curled around him, pulling a guttural groan from Steve's throat. "We've got all night, and I intend to use it." He kissed a path across Steve's jaw to his ear, whispering so seductively that Steve shuddered, his hands fisting in the sheets. "Do you want my hands or my mouth first?"

Steve groaned again, his entire body so alight he felt he might burst into flame. "Your mouth. I need your gorgeous mouth on me, please!"

He felt Tony grin against his skin, whispering, "Good choice," before continuing down, peeling off the rest of Steve's clothes as he writhed in anticipation. And then Tony's beautiful mouth was on him and he was transformed into pure sensation.

And Tony was right, they had the entire night all to themselves. There was nothing waiting for them in the morning. No early-morning runs, no mission debriefings, no meetings with the Stark Industries Board of Directors or the DoD. And James, Bruce, and Thor were taking Peter out for breakfast before his ballet lesson with Natasha, so they didn't need to worry about him either.

On this night, their wedding night, there was nothing to distract Steve and Tony from each other, and they took full advantage of it.

And finally, as the first slivers of spring sunlight began to filter through the surrounding skyscrapers, Steve wrapped his arm around Tony's shoulders and tucked him up against him, pressing a sweet kiss to his forehead as they settled down to sleep. He had lost count of how many times they'd made each other fall apart over the course of the night, and he was so sated and relaxed that he felt like he could sleep for a solid week.

"I love you, sweetheart," he murmured into Tony's—his husband's—hair.

"Mmm," Tony mumbled against Steve's chest as he slid his leg across Steve's lap and cuddled even closer, the coolness of Tony's wedding ring a welcome contrast to his overheated skin.

"I love you too, babe."

I can't wait to see what you guys think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)