AN: I had this scene in my head before I even finished Sheep in a Thicket. Can be seen as either an epilogue or a stand alone moment.

'O blessed child,
Be not afraid.
The Lord will keep you still
And shall pluck you from the cursed dark:
By love, your heart will heal.'

"O Blessed Child" ~ The Brothers Bright

The only thing worse than pulling an all-nighter was going to bed late and being woken up early.

It had been so long since Tony designed the 'curfew cuff' that when a green, blinking light, coupled with an obnoxious buzzing, woke him from slumber he just tossed the square receiver off the nightstand and rolled over.

"Tony?" Pepper stirred. "Whas…"

"Ssshh. Just go back to sleep." That's certainly what Tony had every intention of doing.

Then it began to chirp.

Tony sat bolt upright.

Peter.

The thing had never alerted him before because Peter had never exited the compound at three in the morning before.

"Tony?" Pepper sounded worried now too, half asleep as she was. "Is everything okay?"

"I got it, hon. Small fry is probably just sleepwalking again."

Tony threw off the covers and only paused to throw on a hoodie over his bare chest and sweatpants before bolting down the hall.

This was a new thing with Peter—wandering around the compound in the middle of the night. It's the whole reason Tony had designed the cuff in the first place, to alert him if anything went wrong or…or…

In case he's ever kidnapped again.

Friday's alerting system only reached so far. Ever since Peter got some of his mobility back, it's like his brain had to compensate when he was asleep and force him to stumble around. They'd found him crumpled in the hall, the living room, Thor's bathroom that one time.

"Where is he, Fri?"

"Check the roof patio, boss."

Tony did, muttering curses and shaky reassurances to himself the whole way. It was pitch black, no moon in sight, and all the lights were off. Everyone was—for once—present in the compound and asleep.

Dead quiet.

Tony shuffled through the kitchen. He slid open the patio access door, his blood pressure even higher when he didn't see anyone. His breath steamed in the November air.

"Friday, are you sure…"

Tony stepped fully out, following a strange sound.

Despite the fact Tony had absolutely never, not for one split second, heard this sound before, he knew exactly what it was the instant it reached his ears.

He went very, very still.

How long Tony stood there, he'd never know. It couldn't have been long, but a spell had been cast and he could no more move from that spot than capture the sun.

"…Beautiful isle of somewhere…"

The last notes tapered off and Tony finally spotted his query:

Steve sat with his knees tucked up, against the barbecue and its dark tarp cover, explaining why Tony hadn't seen him at first. Peter's cane lay abandoned near the railing.

In the hollow space of Steve's lap, left ear against the soldier's chest and feet dangling onto the deck, lay Peter.

The boy was already pretty much asleep, lulled by the old song and a thick blanket wrapped around his tiny frame.

Tony watched his son breathe for a moment. Steve stopped his slight back and forth motion.

He didn't look up from Peter's face, voice quiet. "Care to sit?"

Tony took him up on it in that sleepy, comfortable silence of people who shouldn't be awake yet. They sat shoulder to shoulder, Peter's feet now in Tony's lap. Tony reached over and gently pressed a button on the thin cuff, disguised as a leather bracelet, to stop its red flashing.

"Nightmare? He wandered again?"

Steve canted his head, considering, eyes still on their child. "Something like that."

"Nice singing."

Steve rolled his eyes but he reddened. "Shut up. I haven't sung since…gosh, when that Vera Lynn song would have just been released on vinyl probably."

"Nightmare?" For some reason Tony couldn't let this go.

"I don't think so…" Steve's hand was a bear paw compared to the small cheek it caressed. "He wasn't awake, either. Woke up to him bumping around the kitchen. Said he had to get out because he had a secret."

Tony's breath caught. "Wouldn't tell you what it was?"

Steve shook his head. "When he woke up fully, he realized he'd said it out loud and tried to pull away. Found him huddled out here."

Now that Tony knew to look for it, he spotted the dried tear tracks on Peter's cheeks.

"We all know what happened the last time he kept a secret," said Tony, trying to sound rueful and just feeling shaky. "He's doing a lot better in school. So it can't be that."

"Did he tell you they're letting him to a make-up project because he missed the science fair?"

Tony smiled, finally. "Who do you think has been helping him wire a new irrigation robot? Bruce is nuts for the thing."

Steve grinned too, rocking some more when Peter's brow furrowed.

Somehow, it didn't matter that Tony was groggy and heavy-limbed. Clarity sharpened his consciousness. He felt like this was the first time he had truly looked at Steve since their fight two months ago.

Thin wisps of hair fell over his brows. He'd need a trim soon. Tony followed the sight down to the gently upturned lips and tired eyes, the artist's fingers and callouses on his right hand, currently wrapped around Peter and resting on the boy's chest.

It rose and fell.

Tony's shame rose with it.

"UN finally backing down?" Steve asked softly.

"Clint and Natasha's hearing convinced them a bit. The world security counsel isn't pleased about it, but they understood, considering the circumstances, the fact Zemo was arrested unharmed, and that Everett too seems to have had a change of heart."

Steve's brows shot up, disappearing into the hair. "He backed us up?"

"To the end. Funky, right?"

"Who knew…"

The two men fell silent again.

If Tony focused just right, he could feel the strong thump of Steve's heartbeat through the sweater clad shoulder.

He remembered the feel of that pulse under his fingertips, through the thin pores on Steve's scalp—though it was beating much faster that time—when he tried to brain him over a table.

"I'm done letting it rule me. The bitterness."

Steve looked up at Tony's sotto voce declaration.

"Do you know what my father would have done," Tony went on, "had he known his good friend was keeping a secret that big?"

Steve's lips twisted down this time. He looked in agony. It amazed Tony that even after months of negotiation and actual therapy, Steve still took the secret of the Starks' deaths so personally.

"He would've killed me," Steve whispered.

Tony nodded. "Yeah. He would've. Way more efficiently than I tried to."

"I would have deserved it."

Steve's admission hung between them, a sum up of every time he'd apologized to Tony for it and tried to run himself into the ground in self punishment.

He's worse than me sometimes.

"That's not for me to decide, I've realized," said Tony, so faint he wouldn't have recognized his own voice had it not come from his mouth. "Did you know I killed a lot of people with my designs?"

Steve blinked at the seeming non-sequitur. "That's in the past, though."

Tony fought a frown. "Sure. Let's pretend you're right. It occurred to me the other night that I should have gotten kicked out of college, too. Dad bailed me out of failed grades every time. Yet I still graduated and make more today than some who fight for every scrap their whole lives."

A hesitant beat of silence followed.

"Where are you going with this, Tony?"

"I've been given so many second chances that I have honest to God lost count. I shouldn't be worth anything today. The only reason I am where I am is because people refused to let me wallow and give up."

Steve didn't look away from the starry sky but his eyes started to reflect them. Bright. Flickering.

"It's about time I started repaying the favour of generous second chances."

"I don't deserve that either." Steve's tone was flat now, dead. "I'm glad you've come to forgive Bucky but what I did was worse, really."

"Steve," Tony murmured. "It's not about whether you deserve it or not. It's about my right to give it. Stop walking on eggshells around me."

Steve was utterly still for a minute. Then he nodded. "Okay. I can…okay."

"Maybe it's not healthy, keeping the person I resent most so close instead of clearing my head with distance." Tony straightened to look Steve fully in the eyes. "But I'll give anything to be different from my father."

As one, as if Steve could read the unspoken conclusion behind the words, both men gazed down at the sleeping teen.

I'll be better, Peter. For you.

"And I do trust you, Steve. That's why I've been…" Tony flapped a hand. "…Since I found out. I'm angry that I still know you've got my back."

"Physically, in a fight, of course. But do you know that I also have your back for all the other stuff too? For the times you're scared or for the times you need a friend to confide in?"

"Ugh." Tony rolled his eyes to avoid that question. "Can you get anaphylaxis from too much emotion? I think I'm choking on emotion."

"Tony—"

A low whimper from Steve's lap got their attention. Peter started to shift under the blanket, eyes scrunched tight. He looked to be gasping faintly.

"You're safe, kid." Steve rocked Peter and Tony gripped his ankle. "Come on. Wake up for me. Hey, there he is."

Peter's eyes blinked open, slow and obviously very confused about why he was sitting out on the rooftop patio with Steve and Tony at a horrid hour of the morning. Tony didn't blame him.

"Why'd you come out here, small fry?"

Steve hummed in his chest and it seemed to soothe the lingering fear in Peter's eyes.

"Why'd you run, baby boy?" Steve echoed Tony's question. "You know you can tell us anything."

"I always come out here to think," said Peter. "Th-the stars remind me of being out on the water. Being safe."

Tony's mouth dropped into an 'o.' "The memory of almost drowning off the coast of Greece makes you feel safe?"

"No, being with you guys is safe. Clint taught me how to swim."

"He sure did," Steve placated, seeing dots of colour in Peter's cheeks. Tony rubbed the sock covered ankle. "Soon you're not even going to need that cane."

Peter went quiet at these words.

Tony's heart clenched. "What's up, Pete?"

"I have a secret," he said, so quiet Tony had to lean forward to hear. "I'm afraid…I'm afraid you're going to be mad at me if I tell you."

Tony's heart jumped at that but he forced a calm appearance. He wasn't fooling Steve, as evidenced by the quick way he squeezed Tony's knee.

Tony jostled the ankle to get Peter's attention. "You can tell us anything, Peter Benjamin Parker, and we'll still love you."

At last, Peter looked up. Tony wanted to wrap him in bubble wrap forever when he wore that expression.

"Even each other?"

Steve gasped.

Ouch.

"Those were…exceptional circumstances," said Steve.

"Yes," was Tony's simple explanation. He elbowed Steve. "Always, because we never stopped."

If Steve's eyes were bright before, they were swimming now. Peter looked between them, clearly aware he'd missed something, but didn't comment.

"I don't think…" Peter stopped, pale. Then he started again. "I don't know if I want to be Spiderman anymore."

Tony's heart missed a beat—more like three—but both men breathed a sigh of relief. Some teens came to their parents about drugs or getting a girl pregnant or shoplifting.

Thank God.

Then Tony saw how Peter had ducked his head.

"Hey, hey." Tony propped a knuckle under Peter's chin to lift it back up. "None of that. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

Steve looked absolutely baffled. "Why would we be mad about that?"

"You guys live to help people, help the world." Peter swallowed, tense. "I was afraid you'd think I was…wasting my life and powers or something."

Tony opened his mouth and was about to shut that down immediately when he saw Peter's fidgeting go still. He stayed silent while Peter went on.

"I just, I'm sick of violence and I don't think I can watch people get hurt or have someone come at me anymore without panicking, shutting down. I still want to help people…but I can't stop crime head on like I used to."

Steve hitched Peter up higher so the boy's bushy head was tucked under his chin. "Peter, do you know I'm actually very proud of you for coming to that conclusion?"

Peter blinked. "Why would you be proud of me for being a coward?"

"No. No." For the first time that night, Steve sounded stern. Which he seldom was with Peter so Tony could feel the boy pay attention in surprise. "You are not a coward. You understand your own limitations, how trauma has changed you, and don't want to put people's lives in danger because of it. That's wisdom, Peter."

Peter's expression shifted to his thinking face, mouthing 'wisdom' in bewilderment to himself a few times.

Tony realized where Steve was going with this. "This might be a shocking newsflash, Parker, but there are a lot of other ways to help people that don't involve running around dressed in bright spandex."

"It's not technically spandex."

"Don't interrupt me with facts when I'm trying to make a motivational point."

Tony winked to show he was teasing. Peter watched him for a moment and then mirrored the smile, shy.

"I've been thinking about that too, actually," he said. "Of other ways to help."

Steve smoothed a few wayward curls. "Oh? You mean like that time we helped at Habitat for Humanity?"

"That too, which would let me use my strength, but…" Peter licked his lips. His hands unconsciously clenched in Steve's sweater. "I hope it's okay that…well…"

Something inside Tony went soft. Not to say that he wasn't always soft when it came to Peter, but his eyes narrowed with a hot stream of love inside his gut that was almost painful. This tiny boy was their future, what got them all out of bed in the morning.

Peter was sleep ruffled. Thin enough to be worrying. Big eyes too trusting where they rested on Steve and Tony.

He was everything.

He's ours.

"Peter," said Tony, caramel tender and coated with something fragile. "You don't need my permission to live your life. Whatever you choose, we'll support."

"So long as it's legal."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Steve, didn't you lie on your enlistment form?"

Steve's lips pursed. "Point taken."

Peter's eyes were bright with mirth and looked a little less conflicted so Tony took it as a victory.

"I think I want to be a pathologist, cure diseases."

Steve and Tony gaped for a moment. Both men were breathless and ringing with the shock of that statement. Whatever Tony had expected, this wasn't it.

Peter's lips parted, eyes big. "Or…or not. I can be an inventor, like you. It doesn't…I don't have to choose right now…"

Tony leaned forward and kissed Peter's brow. "No, you don't. And you have such a good heart that it kills me sometimes."

Steve sounded choked. "We're so proud of you."

"Why?" Peter asked, vehement. It was an angry syllable and Tony's concern spiked. "It's not as much of an impact as what you guys do."

Arms tensed, like he could physically ward off this erroneous thought, Steve bent his head to speak directly to Peter. "You're right—curing diseases would have more of an impact. You'd be creating long term solutions. Can't beat that."

Peter reached up to pat Steve's cheek and the soldier leaned into it. "You're so wise for such a young man."

Steve huffed at some inside joke. Tony didn't intrude on the moment but when Peter bit his lip, he moved his hand from the ankle to the nape of Peter's neck.

"Your brain is your biggest muscle anyway, small fry. No matter what the bite gave you, that's your greatest strength, besides your heart."

Peter grinned through wet eyes. "The brain is an organ, Tony."

"What did I just say about interrupting me with facts!"

Steve nudged Tony, both of them smiling at the sound of Peter's giggles. "And his heart is a muscle."

"I know that! I have two PhDs! I was making a point!"

"What are we all doing out here? Having a party?" Clint propped an elbow on the open door, bleary eyed. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

Peter pointed upwards. "Clint! Look—same stars!"

Clint snorted but he wore that soft look Tony imagined on his own face. "That's because Greece and New York are in the same hemisphere, champ."

Peter thought about this. "Right. I knew that."

"Of course you did," said Steve, one eyebrow quirked at Tony. "Big organ and all that."

Tony groaned to Steve's snickers. "I'll never live this down, will I?"

"Nope." Steve stood, Peter still cradled in his arms. "But Clint is right. We should all be asleep."

Tony rose also and linked pinky fingers with Peter's hand, the one poking out the blanket. "We're always proud of you, Pete, no matter what. Don't forget that."

"No matter what," Peter echoed. It never failed to warm Tony's heart.

"I don't know what we're talking about, but ditto." Clint came forward and mussed the boy's hair. "You look cold, Pete. Want some hot chocolate?"

"Then he'll never sleep," Steve argued.

Clint tweaked Peter's nose to mumbled protests. "S'okay. I have a conference call at four-thirty anyway. I got your back, bud."

Tony and Steve met each other's eyes. Insecurity and sadness pooled in Steve's.

Tony dipped his head but kept his gaze up, nodding. He said it quietly, so only Steve could hear the nearly-mouthed words: "I know."

Steve's eyes cleared, filled now only with intense fondness Tony wasn't sure he should be trusted with. Steve smiled, a faint one that Tony would have missed if he wasn't looking so intently at his friend, and lifted one hand off Peter to grasp Tony's elbow.

We're the same, Tony realized. Steve and I are two sides of the same problem, same uncertainties, same flaws.

"Thank you, Tony, whether I deserve it or not." Steve didn't say anything more but he didn't need to.

Same strengths.

Peter didn't stay awake long enough to drink that hot chocolate, as it turned out. He sprawled over Clint's lap while the three men played Mario Kart.

"What do you say, Cap? Another round or are you heading out?"

Steve glanced between Peter and his friends on either side, book ending him on the couch. "I'm not going anywhere."

Tony leaned his head back, an elastic band of tension released.

And he smiled.

Written in 2018.