"Hang on, you're going where?" Ned exclaimed, so loudly that at least a half a dozen students sitting at a nearby table stopped talking to look in their direction. "You get to go to Wakanda!"

"Ned! Not so loud!" Gwen hissed. "No one's supposed to know about this!"

"Aww, but it's just not fair!" Ned insisted, thankfully a bit quieter. "I mean, I always kinda thought that Wakanda wasn't even a real place. You know, like Atlantis, or that Nidavellir place that you read about in your mythology books, and now you're telling me you guys get to spend spring break down there? And what'll come after that, space? Some other planet that we've never even heard of? I mean… geez! How come I can't have parents who are superheroes? I'd give just about anything to see a place like Wakanda! Just once!"

"Well, according to Uncle Thor, Nidavellir is actually a real place too," said Peter. He glanced furtively around the lunchroom, grateful that the rest of the students seemed to have resumed their own conversations. "He told me that's where his hammer was forged."

"The one that his mad sister destroyed?" asked Ned.

"Yep, that's the one," answered Peter. "He still seems kind of lost without it, actually. Almost like he's mourning for it."

"Well, I'd mourn if I lost my AirPods, so I guess I can understand that," said Ned. "So then if Nidavellir is a real place, do you think Atlantis is real too?"

Peter shrugged. "Eh, I don't know. Pretty sure none of us have come across any mermen yet, so… who knows? Maybe that's one mythical place that's actually still mythical."

"Oh yeah, that's a good point." Ned said. "But I'm still gonna predict that you'll meet one at some point. Although probably not until after you meet a sorcerer. For some reason that just seems more realistic."

"More realistic than a merman?" Gwen asked with a giggle. "You make it sound like we'll just be walking down the street one day and hear someone say Alohomora or something because they locked themselves out of their apartment."

"Well, I've actually tried the whole Accio thing a few times when I've been trying to reach my phone," Peter admitted. "The look on my dad's face was pretty funny, I think he thought I was speaking in tongues or something."

"Oh, that is so awesome!" Ned said with wide eyes. "Did it work?"

Peter's eyebrows knitted together. "No, Ned, it didn't. I'm not a wizard, right? Or a sorcerer, for that matter."

"Aw, bummer," said Ned. "'Cause it would've been pretty cool if it had."

"Well, just in case either of you were wondering, the Force doesn't work either," Gwen said, rather sheepishly. "Or at least I can't seem to make it work, so…"

Peter grinned, curling his arm around her waist. "That's okay," he said softly. "I'm not Force-sensitive either."

Just a weird, mutant, spider-kid who can climb up walls.

"So, does this trip you're going on have anything to do with the attack you guys had up there at the Compound?" Ned asked.

"Yeah, it does," Peter said in a low voice. "But since the relationship the Avengers have with the Wakandan king isn't officially recognised by our government, we're not exactly advertising it too much at the moment."

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense," said Ned. "I tell you though, my mom is still really upset about what happened up there. She keeps telling my dad that we need to buy this goofy thingy that she saw on the shopping channel so we can protect our house in case there's another attack."

"Oh, really?" Gwen said. "And what's that?"

Ned shrugged. "Some kind of signal scrambler thing-a-ma-jig. Apparently it's supposed to disrupt targeting signals if something's aiming at you. I tried to tell her that that's not really how that stuff works, and even if it was, if this is coming from those same aliens who attacked us before it probably wouldn't help anyway. But ever since she saw it she's been bugging my dad about it, which means we'll probably end up getting one."

Gwen shot Peter a side eye, placing her hand on his knee under the table. "Well, I guess if whatever this thing is gives your mom some peace of mind, then it's probably fine. My mom has a police scanner in the house. It's what she listens to during the day, off and on. And my dad knows that he's supposed to check in with her at least three times during his shifts or else she starts to worry."

"Yeah, I guess," said Ned. "It doesn't help that the thing's going for over five thousand dollars though. Something tells me that's a bit more expensive than a police scanner."

"Whoa," Gwen said with wide eyes. "Yeah, I'm gonna have to agree with you there. But… I guess if you can afford it, then…?"

"Mmm," grumbled Ned. "It'll probably mean we won't be able to go see the Lion King when my grandma's in town though."

"Well, maybe we can all go together sometime?" Gwen suggested. "The three of us? I bet that'd be fun."

"Really?" Ned said, his face lighting up so much that Peter felt a stab of guilt. Ned had been his best friend since elementary school, but ever since he and Gwen got together, he had been spending most of his limited free time with her. It had been fine when Ned was dating their classmate Betty, but apparently they decided to take a so-called "break" once the school year started and never ended up getting back together. At least, if the fact that Peter never saw Betty too far away from Brad Davis had anything to do with it."

"Absolutely," Peter said. "We have those two half-days right at the end of the school year, right? I'll ask my dad if we can get tickets for one of the matinee shows, and we'll go."

"Oh, that'd be awesome!" exclaimed Ned. "We could make it like a going-away party for Gwen!"

Another sharp stab pierced Peter's heart, this time of pain and worry. He didn't like thinking about Gwen going away at the end of the school year, and usually tried his hardest to forget about it.

Tried, but ultimately failed. It was almost like the more he tried to not think about it, the more he did.

"That sounds great, Ned," said Gwen. "I'll ask my parents about it tonight, okay?"

"Tell them my dad will buy the tickets," Peter said. He'd offer to drive the three of them as well, but knowing his dads, they'd probably say no.

Not like driving in the city's all that bad, Peter thought, rather grumpily. Can't even go faster than thirty miles an hour most of the time anyway.

He supposed he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was, given who his dads were. But in the two weeks since he woke up from his coma—his third freaking coma!—they had somehow managed to get even more overprotective, something that Peter hadn't thought possible. With Dad out in New Asgard trying to figure out how to repair Uncle Thor's spaceship for the last week and a half, Papa had even started coming inside the school to watch the last few minutes of their Decathlon practises instead of just waiting out in the parking lot like he used to. He'd stand there in the doorway of the gym with his arms crossed over his front in his "concerned Papa pose", eyeing Peter like he was afraid he was going to disappear right in front of his eyes or something.

Papa had never been good at hiding his emotions, and even less so since the attack up at the Compound. And the intense fear that had been constantly plastered all over Papa's face ever since the Compound attack was not something that Peter liked to see.

Peter did have to admit that it was kinda funny how flustered Mr Harrington got whenever Papa appeared though. Most of Peter's classmates had gotten used to having one or more of the Avengers showing up at the school on any given day, but whenever Mr Harrington happened to see either Dad or Papa, he practically dropped to his knees in worship. And while Dad tended to take it in stride, Peter knew that it bothered Papa quite a bit and he was just too polite to say anything. Papa never liked drawing extra attention to himself. The celebrity status he had garnered from being Captain America and from being married to Iron Man was already more than he wanted.

"Hey," Gwen murmured as they said goodbye to Ned and exited the lunchroom. She elbowed Peter gently on the arm. "Where'd you go?"

"Oh, nowhere," Peter said as he attempted a smile. "Just a bit tired."

"Well, you've been using that excuse ever since the school year started, so pardon me if I don't quite believe you," said Gwen. "Did something new happen?"

"No, no, nothing new," Peter said quickly. Just the same old crap we've been dealing with ever since October. Or actually, Afghanistan. "I think it's just 'cause my dad's been gone. Papa's never quite normal when Dad's gone."

"And neither are you, from what I've seen," Gwen said gently. "It's understandable to miss your father when he's away."

Peter shrugged. "Yeah, I know."

"Do you know when he's coming back yet?" asked Gwen. "He's been gone for a while already, hasn't he?"

"Yeah, well, New Asgard is still pretty new, so… now that they have him out there I guess they're trying to get everything done at once," Peter said. "Hopefully it won't be too much longer. Spring break starts next week, so he'll have to come back sometime in the next few days."

"Oh, yeah. Just in time for you guys to leave again," Gwen said with a sigh. She leaned against the row of lockers as Peter tackled his combination lock. "I was kinda hoping we'd get to spend some time together during break."

Peter's shoulders sagged, nearly causing him to drop his History textbook. "Yeah, me too," he said sadly. "But you know my dads. There's no way they'd leave me here by myself after what happened at the Compound." He didn't add that despite having to be away from Gwen yet again, he was actually looking forward to getting to see Wakanda.

"Well, if that's the case, then why didn't you and Captain Rogers go to New Asgard with your dad?" asked Gwen.

Peter let out a frustrated noise. "Actually, they considered it, but since I'd already managed to miss an entire week of school because I hit my stupid head, they decided it wasn't worth it!" He cringed as soon as the words left his mouth, reaching for Gwen's hand when she instinctively stepped away. "I'm sorry, Gwen, I didn't mean to snap at you. I just—"

"Miss your dad," Gwen finished with a nod. "Yes, I know. And your head's not stupid, by the way. If it was, then I'd be first in our class instead of you."

"Well…" Peter said, attempting a smile. He didn't add that one of the biggest reasons why he and Papa hadn't gone with Dad was because New Asgard was located just a bit too close to where Papa had been frozen for so many years, and Dad hadn't wanted him awakening that particular demon at the moment, a decision that Papa eventually came to agree with. Papa's current demon-fighting repertoire was already busy enough, so that one was just going to have to wait its turn.

Glancing up at the clock, Peter braced himself as the bell rang, announcing the end of the lunch hour.

"Shall we?" he asked Gwen, holding out his elbow for her to take. His heart gave a flutter when she smiled that smile that always made her pretty green eyes sparkle, taking his arm with a flourish.

"You got it," she said. "On to History."

Dodging various students as they headed down the hallway, Peter tried again to push all of his negative thoughts away. It was already April, for goodness sake, which meant he and Gwen only had about ten weeks before she left for Oxford for the summer, and the last thing he wanted was to spend all of that time moping around like a toddler.

He'd have plenty of time for that while she was gone.

And while Peter did miss his father, it was more the reason why he was gone that was bothering him. Dad had been going on business trips for as long as Peter could remember, and while he had told Gwen that Dad's visit to New Asgard was more of a courtesy visit to help Uncle Thor with some technical stuff, it wasn't exactly the whole truth.

Dad was trying to fix Uncle Thor's ship so he could remove the Tesseract from Earth, hopefully once and for all, and that was a mission that Peter was not at liberty to share with anyone, not even Gwen. Dad and Papa had decided while Peter was still in his coma that they needed to keep the theory regarding the infinity stones a secret for as long as possible, both to avoid a public panic and to prevent the U.S. government from trying to take over from the Avengers when they had no business doing so. At the moment, to the outside eye it appeared that Tony Stark was just lending his mechanical abilities to a member of his team, who just happened to be the god of thunder, and nothing more.

Even the news that Loki's sceptre had been taken had been kept a secret, with the official word from Director Fury being that a malfunctioning, out-of-control satellite crash was to blame for the attack up at the Compound.

And while Peter supposed that excuse sounded plausible enough, he was still pretty surprised at how easily the country had bought it.

Then again, the country had bought Dad and Papa's lie that Peter wasn't Spider-Man back after they were all kidnapped by Obie and Aldrich Killian, and that had been accompanied by actual video evidence, so… maybe the general public wasn't as smart as Peter was trying to give them credit for.

"You're doing it again," Gwen said as they turned a corner.

"Huh?" Peter said, rolling his eyes when Gwen giggled.

"That," she said as she pointed to his head. "It's like you're trapped inside there, just waiting for something horrible to happen."

Peter gulped, attempting to smile as they arrived outside their classroom. "Well, can you blame me? I had to watch you fly over the edge of the building, not knowing if I'd managed to catch you or not, and—" He broke off, blinking back tears as Gwen reached for his hand.

"Peter, I'm right here," she murmured. "You saved me, remember?"

"Yeah, I know," Peter said, sniffing. He tugged her over behind their classroom door, leaning down to give her a quick kiss. Blatant public displays of affection were not condoned at Midtown, and the last thing Peter needed was some nosy teacher or student ratting him out to his dads, but with how quickly weird things tended to happen to him and his loved ones, Peter didn't want to waste any chances to show his girl how much he cared for her.

"Peter," Gwen whispered as he drew back, wishing they were anywhere else but school. "It's okay."

"Not quite, but at least it's a bit better now," Peter answered. He pecked her quickly on the forehead, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone just as the bell started to ring, nearly causing him to jump out of his skin. He cried out as he slapped his hands over his ears, barely able to regain some of his composure as Gwen took his elbow, guiding him into their classroom.

"Shit," he breathed as he plopped down onto his seat, his heart thudding as he dug into his pocket for his earplugs. He had been trying to not use them or his glasses as often lately, thinking it was way past the time for him to be used to his genetic enhancements by now. But with how on edge he was with Dad out of town and the general uneasiness in his family, he hadn't yet been able to get through a day without them.

"You're looking a little pale there, Prince Peter," Flash Thompson sneered as he slid into his seat behind Peter. "You see another ghost or something in the hallway?"

"Oh, just shut it, Flash, okay?" Gwen retorted. "You don't know a thing about it, so why don't you do us all a favour and just keep your mouth shut."

Flash's eyes went wide as he raised his arms. "Well, okay then, Princess. Your wish is my command."

"All right, that's enough," said their teacher as she stepped into the classroom. "Now then, who wants to begin the discussion regarding the formation of the European Union?"

Silence fell across the classroom, as it usually did whenever a question like that was asked. Not too surprisingly, Gwen raised her hand about three seconds later, clearing her throat.

"Thank you, Miss Stacy," said the teacher. "Let's begin."

Resting his chin on his stack of books, Peter listened as Gwen launched into a monologue explaining that the goal of the Union had been to end the frequent and bloody wars between neighbouring countries that had culminated in the Second World War. As she continued on for the next five minutes or so, Peter closed his eyes, allowing the sound of her melodic voice to chip away at the massive load of fear and anxiety laying across his shoulders.

If only he could keep her at his side every single minute of every single day. Then he would maybe, maybe have a chance at functioning like a normal human being.

Unfortunately, it wasn't to be the case. Owing in large part to their teacher's desire to not only have one student dominate the conversation, soon after Gwen stopped talking, Peter felt his anxiety level start to tick back up, hovering at its usual position somewhere between Defcon three and four. It lasted all through the rest of their classes and into Decathlon practise, where Gwen kept them all hopping with her lightning round questions.

"Ned, who actually coined the term, 'Cold War' to describe the differences between the Communist East and the Democratic West?"

"Uhh, Herbert B Swoope," answered Ned.

"Excellent!" Gwen exclaimed, smiling as she flipped her index cards. "Cindy, in what U.S. state did Winston Churchill make his famous 'Iron Curtain' speech in 1946?"

"Um… Missouri?" Cindy said with a grimace.

"Yes, that's correct, but we gotta be a bit faster on the button or we'll never win this," said Gwen. "Peter, give me a one-sentence explanation of the Polish Solidarity Movement."

Peter grunted, sucking in air through his teeth as he thought how best to condense such a moment into a single sentence. "Ah, the Solidarity Movement began as a Polish labour union in one of their shipyards, and eventually grew powerful enough to win control of the government from the Polish Communists in the late 1980s."

"That is correct," Gwen said, flashing her million-watt smile at him. "And do you know the man's name who started it?"

"Lech Walesa," Peter said proudly. He and Uncle Bucky had just finished a really good book the other day on Poland's recovery from WWII, one that had discussed the Solidarity Movement at great length. Like Papa, Uncle Bucky was fascinated with history, and Peter really enjoyed working on all of his Decathlon topics with the two of them.

Ned had just correctly answered the year that the Soviet Union tested its first atomic bomb when Papa appeared, taking up his usual spot in the gym's doorway. But he had barely gotten his arms settled into their crossed position when Mr Harrington suddenly gasped so loudly that he cut Gwen off in mid-sentence, gulping as he pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Ohh, Captain Rogers!" he said breathlessly. "Please, sir, feel free to come in and join us! I'm sure you would have some incredible first-hand input into these events that we're discussing!"

"Here we go," Peter said under his breath, watching through his eyelashes as Papa shifted on his feet, his cheeks already flushing pink.

"Oh no, please, I wouldn't want to interrupt your work," he said. "I'm just here to—"

"Oh, please, sir, I insist!" said Mr Harrington. "I mean, who better to enrich these young minds with tales of post-WWII life than the man who actually lived it, right?"

Peter groaned, his belly giving a hard swoop as he watched Papa's jaw tighten, only for a second before assuming what Dad always called his give 'em hell expression. His love for his current life notwithstanding, Papa did not like being reminded about his time in the ice, any more than Dad or Peter liked being reminded of their time in Afghanistan.

"Mr Harrington," Peter said before Papa could open his mouth. "Um, Captain Rogers didn't actually live through the post-WWII time. I mean, not really. He was frozen, remember?"

There was a three heartbeat or so pause while Mr Harrington glanced between Peter and Papa, his face finally drawing back into his exaggerated oh, shit! look that Peter had seen way too many times during their Decathlon trips, usually as the result of him misplacing something really important.

"Oh, I'm such an idiot!" the teacher said, slamming his forehead with his palm so hard that Peter was surprised he was able to stay upright. "Oh, please forgive me, Captain! I can't believe I said something so incredibly inconsiderate! I hope you're able to—"

"It's all right, Mr Harrington, really," Papa cut in. "Just… try and pretend that I'm not here."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure that'll be impossible, sir, but as I always say, one can always try," said Mr Harrington. Adjusting his glasses yet again, he turned back to Gwen. "If you will, Miss Stacy, please continue."

"Uh, thanks," said Gwen. She shot Peter a sly wink as she reshuffled her index cards. "Okay, Peter. Which two countries were first aided by what was known as the Truman Doctrine?"

"Turkey and Greece," Peter said quickly, pride welling up inside him when he noticed Papa's smile.

"That's correct," Gwen said. "Awesome job."

They continued on for another ten minutes or so, until Mr Harrington called an end to the practise, practically tripping over himself in his haste to rush over to Papa so he could shake his hand.

"I just want to tell you again what an honour it is to see you participating in your son's education like this, Captain Rogers," Mr Harrington gushed. "I've always been such a big proponent of parental involvement in a child's schooling, and you, sir, are just—"

"Thank you, Mr Harrington. I really appreciate it," Papa said in his Captain's voice. He leaned sideways, looking around the practically drooling teacher and begging Peter with his eyes. "Peter, are you ready to go?"

"Yep, I'm ready," Peter said as he pulled on his jacket and slung his backpack over his shoulder. He stepped back to allow Gwen to get in front of him, smiling when he saw Papa nod in appreciation.

"Hello, Captain Rogers," Gwen said as they reached the doors.

"Good afternoon, Gwen," Papa replied. "How was your day today?"

"Oh, you know," Gwen said with a shrug. "It was school."

"Well, it sure seems like you're ready for this next competition of yours," Papa said. "I was pretty impressed with how fast all of you were answering those questions."

"Well, it helps when we have such an awesome team," Gwen said, elbowing Peter on the arm. "I'm predicting that we'll win State this year."

"And I have no doubt that you're right about that," Papa said as they reached the exit doors. "Peter, you'd better zip up your jacket, little guy, it's still pretty brisk outside."

"Oh, yeah," Peter said, glowering down at the zipper that had somehow forgotten to zip itself. He drew it up to his neck, ducking down inside the collar of the down parka as Papa opened the doors and a blast of arctic air hit Peter right in the face.

Good ole New York City in April. Springy one day, and right back to winter the next.

"See you tomorrow?" Gwen asked as they headed towards Chief Stacy's patrol car, which was parked next to Papa's truck.

"You got it," Peter said as he squeezed her hand. He didn't dare try to kiss her in front of her father. "I'll call you, okay?"

"Sounds good."

"So, Uncle Sam's offered to cook dinner for us tonight," Papa said as he drove out onto the street. "He and Bucky are coming up around six if that's okay with you."

"Yeah, that sounds fine," Peter said, thudding his head against the window. Now that school was over his last remaining dregs of energy seemed to have seeped away, leaving behind nothing but exhaustion.

"You okay, little guy?" Papa asked as he pulled up to a red light. "Do you need me to stop and get you something to eat?"

Peter shook his head, closing his eyes. "No, I can wait till we get home," he said, stifling a yawn. "Just tired."

"Yeah, I can tell," Papa said as he briefly squeezed Peter's knee. "I talked to Dad right before I came to pick you up, and he told me that he's hoping he'll be able to come back home either tomorrow or the next day."

"Oh, that's good," Peter said. "Just in time to leave again."

Papa shot him a rather rueful smile. "Well, I'm hoping Wakanda won't be as stressful for him as New Asgard has been. And we'll all be down there together, which should help too."

"Oh, I know it will," said Peter. Now that he was away from the prying eyes of his classmates, he felt could freely admit just how badly he missed his dad. "I miss him."

"So do I, little guy," Papa said as they arrived inside the Tower garage. He gave Peter's knee another squeeze, his worry wrinkle firmly etched between his eyebrows. "C'mon. If you can get all of your homework done before dinner, I thought we might watch a movie with Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky afterwards. Maybe it'll help take our mind off of things."

"Uh huh," said Peter. "Sounds good."

As evenings go, it wasn't too bad. After finishing his homework and helping Uncle Sam make a massive pot of his nana's famous gumbo, the four of them settled onto the couches in the living room to watch The Last Jedi, which Uncle Bucky especially loved. Since he had seen it multiple times before, Peter ended up only paying half attention, preferring to focus on his papa's strong heartbeat beneath his ear and how cute Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky were all cuddled up on the opposite couch.

The only thing missing was Dad.

The elevator doors had barely closed behind Uncle Bucky and Uncle Sam when JARVIS announced that Dad was waiting to talk to him. Peter practically raced to his room, skidding to a stop in front of his viewscreen as Dad's tired face appeared. He was standing inside Uncle Thor's ship, which, Peter immediately noticed, so closely resembled the bridge of a Klingon Bird of Prey that there was no possible way it was a coincidence.

"Hey, buddy," he said, sounding as exhausted as he looked. "How's my boy?"

"I'm good," Peter said automatically, frowning when Dad quirked an eyebrow. "Seriously, Dad, I'm okay. I just… really miss you."

"Yeah, bud, me too," Dad said softly. "But Uncle Bruce and I made a lot of progress today, so I'm really hoping that I'll be able to wrap this up tomorrow, or the next day at the latest." He shot a kind of half-amused, half-frustrated glance off to the side, leaning closer to his screen. "If Uncle Bruce had been better able to follow my directions earlier, things might not have been as bad as they were when I got here. But unfortunately, he unwittingly—"

"Now, now, you're not blaming me for this whole mess again!" Peter heard Uncle Bruce call from somewhere inside the depths of the ship. "I didn't do anything! Wittingly or un!"

"Yeah, yeah, big guy, all right." Dad rolled his eyes, scrubbing his palm down his face. "Here, you wanna come say hi to Pete?"

A loud crash and an immediate muffled, "Ow!" followed Dad's words, and Peter was giggling by the time Uncle Bruce appeared on the screen.

"Hey, Peter," said Uncle Bruce, his glasses slightly crooked on his face and gripping the side of his arm. "How's it going back in New York?"

"Oh, you know. It's going," said Peter. "How's New Asgard?"

"Well, aside from the fact that the climate in Calcutta was a helluva lot better, it's not too bad here," said Uncle Bruce. "Just a bit… cold. And way, way too much fish. I swear, after I leave here I'm never eating another fish. Like, ever in my life."

"Ah, you're just a big wuss!" said Dad from somewhere off to the side. "Lutefisk isn't near as bad as you keep saying!"

"No, it's actually worse," Uncle Bruce whispered, rather conspiratorially. "Just don't tell Thor I said so, okay?"

"Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me, 'cause I don't like fish either," Peter whispered back. "Well, at least I don't like eating them. I like watching mine swim around in his tank though."

"See? 'Cause you're a smart kid," said Uncle Bruce. "Did your dad tell you that I'm gonna be going with Thor and Loki once we finally get this ship ready?"

"No, he didn't," Peter said, confused. "Why do you need to go too?"

"Well, the thought is that if we happen to run into trouble, then the other guy might be kinda handy to have around," said Uncle Bruce. "But I also thought it sounded like a nice break from the grind, you know? Go on a little joyride into space before getting back to the real work?"

"Better not tell it like that to my dad," Peter warned. Dad had told both Peter and Papa that after his flight through the portal and the massive army he saw amassed there, he had no desire to ever go into space again.

"No, no, I won't," said Uncle Bruce. "Hey, you take it easy, okay? I'm gonna give you back to your dad now."

"Uh huh. And you be careful!" Peter called as Uncle Bruce handed the phone back to Dad.

"You try and get some sleep tonight, bud, yeah?" Dad said. "You're looking pretty tired."

Peter shrugged. "Yeah, but Papa is too. You know none of us sleep well when you're gone."

"And I've already told him the same thing," said Dad. He pressed his fingers to his lips, blowing Peter a kiss just like he always used to when he was little. "I love you, bud. I'll see you soon."

"Uh huh. Love you too." As soon as the screen went blank, Peter flopped backwards onto his bed, only narrowly missing the corner of one of his textbooks with his head.

"Last thing I need now is another concussion," he muttered as he stacked the books into a pile, setting them on his bedside table.

"Peter?" Papa called from down the hallway. "Are you getting ready for bed, little guy?"

"Ah, yep!" Peter replied. "Just give me a couple minutes!"

Changing into his favourite Hulk pyjamas, Peter brushed his teeth and climbed under his covers, making a very poor attempt at a smile when Papa knocked on his slightly cracked door.

"Try and get some good sleep tonight, okay?" Papa said as he kissed Peter's forehead. "Hopefully we'll get to see Dad tomorrow."

"Uh huh," Peter said softly, his throat tight with tears he was trying to contain. He hadn't wanted to say anything, mainly because there wasn't anything that Papa could do about it, but the fact that he could still remember bits and pieces of his drug-induced dreams where Dad was dead haunted him. Aldrich Killian had forced all three of them to believe that one or the other was dead while they were being held captive down in Miami, but only Peter was able to retain those memories after they were given the antidote. No one knew exactly why his mind refused to let go of those horrible images, other than the fact that he was a child and had been given an earlier version of the drug before, back in Afghanistan.

But whatever the reason was, it still absolutely sucked.

"Hey," Papa whispered, his worry wrinkle deepening. "What's on your mind?"

"Mmm," grumbled Peter. He should've known that he couldn't hide anything from Papa. And everyone always said that he was the perceptive one.

"You can tell me, little guy," Papa as he held out his arms. "You know you can."

"Yeah, I know." Pushing himself up, Peter practically fell into his papa's open arms, squeezing his eyes closed as Papa's strong, steady heartbeat filled his ears. "I'm just… I don't know, I think I'm just—"

"Shh, Peter, it's okay," Papa whispered as he patted Peter's back. "I'm scared too. But what we have to try and remember is that we're stronger than our fear, okay? And as long as we all stick together, there's no way that our fear can win."

Peter nodded against Papa's chest, swallowing against the knot in his throat. "I know. I think sometimes I just need to hear it."

"Well, I'll say it as often as you need me to, okay?" Papa said. He kissed Peter's forehead again, tucking his blankets up to his shoulders. "And I might have something else that'll help you sleep too. I'll be right back."

"Huh?" Peter said as Papa hurriedly left his room, returning a few moments later with one of Dad's old and ratty MIT hoodies.

"Here," he said as he handed the squishy, buttery soft hoodie to Peter. "If nothing else, it'll help keep you warm tonight."

"Ohh," Peter whispered as he slid his arms into the hoodie and pulled it over his head, hugging his arms across his front once he was set. How could he have forgotten that he used to swipe these all the time when he was little, and especially whenever Dad was out of town?

"Thank you, Papa," Peter murmured. "This is perfect." While the hoodie was still a very poor substitute for one of his father's hugs, it would do well enough until he could come back.

"That's what I was hoping," Papa said as he ruffled Peter's hair. "Sleep now, little guy. I love you."

"Uh huh. Love you too."

"Uh, are you sure about this, Cap?" Sam asked as he piloted the Quinjet over the skies of Africa. They were aiming for the coordinates transmitted to them by King T'Challa's security people, but from what Tony could see, there was absolutely nothing below them that resembled anything that looked like a country, much less a highly technologically advanced country.

"I don't see anything but trees, personally," said Clint from the copilot's seat. "These Wakandan dudes aren't Ents, are they?"

"No, Clint, they're just as human as we are," Steve answered, with only a touch of impatience. "And since we've already verified the coordinates twice, I think asking a third time might be pushing it a little. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Well, not if it means that we don't pancake ourselves down in those trees, but, okay," Sam said warily. "You're the boss."

You're damn right he is, Tony thought as he pressed his palm over the nanite container attached to his chest. Steve hadn't been too happy when he saw him wearing it, thinking that it might possibly be viewed as a display of aggression by the Wakandans, but Tony had flat-out told him that that was just too damn bad. There was no way Tony was going to venture out into an unknown country and meet with people he'd never met without having his armour close at hand. Especially since they had Peter with them.

Besides. Steve had still brought his shield along, like he always did whenever they travelled, just like the rest of the team had brought all of their equipment. Even Peter was wearing one of his Spider-Man suits under his clothes, mainly for the built-in heater, but still. Tony was just lucky that he had the luxury of carrying his suit in a sweet, classy-looking case.

And little did Steve know that Tony had also packed Steve's nanite suit, which was now tucked securely in his pants pocket.

Can't ever be too careful, right?

"Okay, but I'm still not seeing anything down there," Sam insisted. "Are we sure—?"

"Just follow the coordinates, Sam, please," Steve said in his Captain's voice. "We'll be okay."

"Yeah, okay," Sam said as he angled the jet slightly downward, ordering Clint to reset the flaps. "But if we end up crashing, I'm gonna insist that this doesn't count against my piloting record."

"Duly noted, Sam," said Steve. "Let's everyone else buckle up, all right?"

A chorus of affirmative mumbles floated up from Natasha, Bucky, and the twins as they all snapped their seatbelts into place. Peter craned his neck as they approached, trying to get a better look, while, despite Steve's assurances, Tony still found himself holding his breath as they approached the dense treetops, letting it out through his teeth as the jet suddenly passed through what appeared to be some kind of protective shield.

"Whoa!" Peter breathed as a vast body of water suddenly appeared below the jet, surrounded on three sides by mountains. "This place looks awesome!"

"I agree, little guy," Steve said, tossing him a brief smile. "Sam, we're supposed to touch down over there, by the main palace building."

"Yeah, I got it," Sam said as he expertly landed the jet, killing the engines once the wings were folded in. "All right. After you, Cap."

"Copy that," Steve said softly. Glancing back at Tony, he held out his hand, squeezing it gently once Tony was at his side. "I'd like the three of us to be the first off the jet."

"You got it, honey." Tony sucked in a deep breath as the ramp whirred open to reveal King T'Challa standing about five metres away from the jet. He was surrounded by six tall, bald women dressed in red armour and carrying spears, behind which stood a line of taller, broad-shouldered men bearing golden chest plates, their spears tipped with slightly broader points.

"Your Highness," Steve said as he reached for the king's hand, which T'Challa proudly took. "It is very nice to see you again."

"Likewise, Captain," replied T'Challa. He glanced over at Tony, who instantly straightened his shoulders. Tony had met a few different heads of state during his years as a weapons manufacturer, and while many of the palaces owned by those rulers had been far more extravagant than this one appeared to be, none of the others had had half of the amount of stateliness that Tony was sensing from this particular king.

This place, this hidden African country, along with its king, just might help tip the odds back into the Avengers' favour.

"King T'Challa," Steve said in his Captain's voice. "While you've met some of our team already, I'd like to introduce us all again, if I may."

The king nodded, clasping his hands in front of him as Steve gestured to Tony and Peter. "This is my husband and son, Tony Stark and Peter Stark-Rogers. You may better know Tony as—"

"Iron Man," T'Challa cut in as he offered Tony his hand. "Yes, I am familiar with you, Mr Stark."

"Oh, really?" Tony said, a bit warily. "And how's that?"

T'Challa gave him a rather sly grin. "We do get news from around the world here in Wakanda, Mr Stark," he said. "And your incident in the Middle East drew quite a bit of coverage."

Next to Tony, Peter audibly gulped, causing Steve to place his hand on his shoulder.

"That time was not pleasant for any of us, Your Highness, but especially not for Tony and Peter," Steve said firmly. "As I'm sure you can understand."

"I understand perfectly, Captain," said T'Challa. "As someone who has recently been through a rather difficult time myself, please allow me to sympathise with you and your son, Mr Stark. Dare I say that you were both able to emerge from that terrible experience stronger than you were before?"

"Ah, yeah," Tony said. "In a manner of speaking."

"Please allow me to introduce the rest of our team, if you don't mind," Steve quickly said. He introduced each of the rest of them in turn, explaining once he was done that Bruce was currently working with Thor and his people in New Asgard and had been unable to attend.

"I see," said T'Challa. "Well, you are all welcome here. It is my hope that you will enjoy our hospitality as we work together to solve this particularly difficult puzzle." He turned to the woman standing at his right hand. "My general, Okoye, will show you to your rooms. Please, take some rest from your journey. We will have plenty of time to begin discussions later."

"Mmm," Tony grumbled, earning another squeeze of his hand from Steve as General Okoye and another of the women warriors led them inside the palace. Showing the three of them to an ornate, nicely-sized two-bedroom suite, the general gave Tony and Steve a bow, informing them that their luggage would be delivered from the jet shortly, and that a banquet would be served in their team's honour in three hours' time.

"Oh, good," Peter said once the heavy wooden door had clicked shut. "I'm already starving!"

"Well, I'm sure we could get something brought here before that if you need it, Pete," Tony said as he meandered around the suite, running his palm along the polished wooden furniture and bright linen fabrics. "We wouldn't want you passing out in front of a king, would we?"

"Nah, I've got some snacks in my backpack, so I should be fine once it gets here," Peter said as he headed into the smaller of the two bedrooms. "Whoa! I've got an awesome view of the mountains in here!"

Steve smiled, curling his arm around Tony's waist. "That's great, little guy. You should probably send a few pictures to Gwen, don't you think?"

"Yep!" Peter called. "I'm already on it!"

As antsy as Tony was to get started, by the time General Okoye came to escort them to the banquet, he had managed to settle down a bit. Changing out of his travelling clothes and getting to relax some while Steve insisted on waiting on him did him more good than he cared to admit. Repairing Thor's busted-up ship out in New Asgard for over a week had been more exhausting than he'd tried to let on, but of course, Steve had been able to see right through him, as he always did.

Even his left arm, which had been aching practically non-stop ever since the attack up at the Compound, felt a bit better by the time they arrived at the banquet hall.

"Captain, Mr Stark, welcome," T'Challa said once they stepped inside the massive hall. The king was dressed in a set of very classy-looking navy blue robes embroidered with intricate golden threads, and standing next to a girl, perhaps a bit older than Peter, with elaborately braided hair. "Please allow me to introduce my younger sister, Shuri. She is in charge of all of our technological research and equipment here in Wakanda."

"You are?" Peter exclaimed, immediately clapping his hand over his mouth. "I mean, not that that's bad or anything. It's actually pretty awesome when you think about it, and—"

"Yes, it is," Shuri said, smiling as she held up her hand in a perfect imitation of the traditional Vulcan salute. "I assume you understand what this means, do you not, Peter Stark-Rogers?"

"Whoa!" Peter said for probably the zillionth time since they'd arrived. "You guys have Star Trek down here? That's so cool!"

"Oh, we not only have Star Trek, we have every single episode of all five of the television series, and all twelve of the movies, spanning all of the various casts," Shuri said, rather proudly. She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "And I have memorised every single one of them."

"Well, then you should fit right in, right, Pete?" Tony said. "Maybe the two of you and the twins can build a functioning food replicator while we're down here."

"Preferably without burning down the palace, correct, little sister?" T'Challa said firmly, earning an exaggerated scoff from Shuri.

"That was only one time, brother!" she said. "When are you ever going to let it go?" Then she turned to Peter, gesturing towards the far end of the banquet table. "Come with me and I'll tell you all about it."

Peter glanced up at Tony, who gave him a nod. "Go have fun with your new friend, Pete."

"Thanks, Dad!" Peter said with a grin. "I'll see you guys later!"

Watching them go, T'Challa turned his attention back to Tony and Steve. "Have no fear for your son's safety here, gentlemen," he said. "You have my solemn promise that no harm will come to any of you while you're within our borders."

"That's a pretty bold promise, Your Highness," Steve said as they took their seats near the head of the table. "But judging from how you were able to fend off the attack from space, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised."

T'Challa smiled slightly as a table server poured them all a large goblet of wine. "As I said earlier, Captain, there will be plenty of time to discuss such matters at a later time. Please, for now, let us just enjoy this lovely evening."

Steve's jaw twitched as he nodded, patting Tony's knee under the table. "Very well, Your Highness. And thank you again for your wonderful hospitality."

"Oh, Captain," said T'Challa, now smiling widely. "You have not seen anything yet."

While Tony wasn't usually one for hyperbole, it turned out that the king wasn't joking. Aside from the five-course meal, which was incredible, the team was also treated to a traditional African dance performance as well as a fireworks display that would've put New York City's best New Year's Eve show to shame. By the time they had said all of their goodnights and dragged a half-asleep Peter to bed, Tony could honestly feel a few tiny trickles of optimism attempting to break through the solid iron wall of fear that had been building up inside him ever since the first space attack back in October.

And, if the way Steve's eyes darkened as soon as they stepped inside their bedroom was any indication, Tony wasn't the only one.

"Are you too tired?" Steve asked as his hands slipped around Tony's waist, drawing him flush against him. Heat bloomed across Tony's chest at the underlying desperation in Steve's voice, and it was all he could do to quickly shake his head before Steve claimed his lips, kissing him like he hadn't kissed him in months.

"God, I've missed you so much, mo grá," Steve rasped as he kissed down Tony's jaw to his neck. "It's been so long, and I need you so badly. Le do thoil, an féidir liom tú a bheith agat?"

"Steve, baby, yes," Tony moaned as Steve hoisted him into his arms and carried him over to the massive bed, laying him gently down. He crawled up to hover over him, trailing his fingertips down Tony's cheek as Tony glided his palms up Steve's strong arms.

"I'm gonna take such good care of you tonight, sweetheart," Steve whispered as he went to work on Tony's shirt buttons. "Let me show you how much I love you."

"Ohh," Tony moaned as Steve attacked his neck again, his fingers tugging Steve's shirt loose from his pants to glide up his smooth skin. "No way in hell am I saying no to that."

And for the next two or so hours, Steve did exactly that, his lips and hands exploring Tony's body with such passionate attention that by the time he wrapped Tony's legs around his waist and slowly pushed inside him, they both nearly sobbed in relief. The past few weeks had been so stressful for them both, with the attack, Peter's injuries, and then being separated, that they had desperately needed this time to reconnect with each other, proving once again that they were much better together than they could ever be apart.

"Look at me, Tony," Steve said as he trailed his fingertips down Tony's arm, intertwining their fingers. "I love you, mo grá. I love you so much!"

"I know you do, baby," Tony said, gasping as Steve's free hand slipped between them to curl around his aching cock. "You're so good, so damn good to me."

"You deserve it all, sweetheart," Steve said as he captured Tony's lips in a hot, messy kiss. "Now, come for me!"

As if on cue, Tony came barely three strokes later, crying out his release into the warm African air as Steve buried his head in Tony's shoulder, his broad body shaking as his own climax washed over him. They laid there, with their sweaty, sated bodies intertwined, for a long time afterwards, exchanging soft kisses and caresses until Steve carefully lifted Tony into his arms and carried him into the bathroom, cleaning him as carefully as if he were made of glass.

"I love you so much, sweetheart," he whispered once they were back in the bed, with Tony's head pillowed on Steve's chest. "Sleep now, okay? I've got you."

Tony was asleep before he could answer.

As most of their vacations did, the week passed all too quickly, and soon Steve and the rest of the team were already packing to head back to New York. And while Tony would likely disagree with him, especially since King T'Challa had flat-out refused to give them any information on their defensive technology, Steve was still very grateful that they had made the trip. Not only had Peter been able to truly relax for the first time in months, thanks largely in part to his instant friendship with T'Challa's sister, but the entire team seemed to be rejuvenated. Clint and Natasha had even taken the opportunity to travel out to the mountains for a couple of days, leaving the twins behind for the first time since they had come to live with them. Bucky and Sam had embarked on an excursion as well, exploring the far western border of the country and camping out under the stars, something that Sam had enjoyed when he was young.

And, even despite his protests, Tony was also feeling better. It had been so long since he had been able to sleep more than a couple of hours at a time, and Steve had already noticed a big difference in his demeanour thanks to the decent rest he'd been able to get.

All of the lovemaking they had been doing might've had a bit to do with that as well. It had been a long time since Steve and Tony had been able to enjoy this much sex on consecutive nights, and Steve was soaking up as much of it as he possibly could.

"This is definitely quite the place you've got here," Tony said the evening before they were set to leave, as he, Steve, and T'Challa strolled around the palace grounds following their evening meal. "I guess I can understand why you guys would wanna keep it hidden away."

"Well, my father was of the mind that Wakandans should only take care of their own, that we should not get involved with the rather messy affairs of the rest of the world," T'Challa replied. "And to be honest with you, after what happened in Namibia, it would have been quite easy for me to continue along that same path. But after the attack on your home, and the discovery that the Soul Stone itself resides within our borders, I no longer believe that it is our destiny to hide from the rest of the world. We all must band together, as one single tribe, if we are to face what is coming."

"That's very brave of you, Your Highness," Steve said softly. "Especially after what happened to your father."

T'Challa smiled, shaking his head. "My father may have been an isolationist, but he also taught me a very important lesson, which is to not listen to what people say, but to watch what they do. And what I have seen from you and your team, Captain, has proven to me that you are trustworthy."

"But not trustworthy enough to share your tech with us?" Tony asked. "Even after everything we've told you?"

"Mr Stark," T'Challa said with a sigh. "As I have said, I do apologise. But if everything you have told me is true, then I am unsure as to how sharing our defensive technology will be helpful. We currently have no way of knowing when or if another attack will occur, and we simply cannot become responsible for the protection of the entire world. That is not something that would be asked of any other country, and Wakanda must be given the same consideration. Until the time is right, we will continue as we always have, sharing our resources and knowledge as the needs arrive, and not before."

"Mmm," Tony grumbled under his breath, prompting Steve to squeeze his hand. He knew where Tony was coming from, but he could also understand the rather difficult position that T'Challa was in. Sharing his country's resources with only the U.S., or even just with their team, would no doubt result in outcries from nearly every other modernised country, and that was not something Wakanda was willing to deal with.

And nor should they be. Steve had seen too many examples of countries trying to push their so-called "protections" onto others to wish for something like that now. Even given what they were potentially facing.

"So, what should we do when the next attack comes?" Tony asked.

"From what we have seen, you are not completely defenceless, correct?" asked T'Challa.

"Well, no, not completely," Tony said. "We have our defence drones, and I've been working on extending their range, but at the moment we can only cover the East Coast and that's about it. We also have these goofy shrinking particles that Pete, Bruce, and I reverse-engineered, but we haven't figured out an actual use for them yet. That and the nanite suits are pretty much all that we've got at the moment. Oh, and Thor's desire to get the Space Stone out of New Asgard."

"Have you thought at all about removing the Soul Stone from Wakanda, Your Highness?" Steve asked.

"No, we have not," answered T'Challa. "As the Soul Stone is vital to our ability to communicate with our ancestors, it is not something that I am willing to part with unless I am presented with no other choice."

"Well, I suppose that's understandable," said Tony.

"I am glad," T'Challa said, rather firmly. "I assure you, Mr Stark, we are taking this threat very seriously. We have no desire to see harm come to any of our friends. But, as king, my first duty is to my people, and I absolutely cannot risk their safety by revealing too much, too soon."

"We would never ask you to do anything that would put your people at risk, Your Highness," Steve said. "Just the fact that you've agreed to form this alliance with us is proof enough to me that your intentions are pure."

"I am grateful, Captain," T'Challa said, glancing around him as Peter, Shuri, and the twins came bursting out of a side palace entrance, their laughter echoing across the yard. "And in more ways than one. It is not often that my sister is able to enjoy being the teenager that she is, so spending this week with your younger team members has been good for her as well. She was very close to our father, and mourning him has not been easy for her."

"Tony and I know that Peter has enjoyed himself as well," Steve said. "And for that, we thank you."

They left for home the following day, taking off just after the sun went down in the hopes that the children would be able to sleep on the jet. Steve's heart was nearly filled to bursting as he, Tony, and Peter took over the largest couch in the back, Tony tucked up against one side and Peter against the other, both of them sound asleep. They were so alike that they even made some of the same faces as they slept, with Steve taking plenty of mental notes so he could sketch them out later. The little sketchbook that he always took on missions still had a few blank pages left, and Steve wanted to get them filled before Peter decided that he was too old to cuddle.

"I love you," he whispered, first into Tony's hair, then into Peter's, pressing kisses to both of their heads before tipping his own head back and closing his eyes.

While they hadn't accomplished everything that Tony had wanted to accomplish on the trip, especially when it came to getting his hands on some of the Wakandan technology, Steve was still relieved to know that the team had a powerful ally they could call on when and if they needed them.

And while the optimistic part of Steve tried to focus more on the "if", the more pragmatic part of him knew that it was more likely to be "when", and that he needed to plan as such.

Because when the "when" finally came, he and the rest of his team needed to be ready.

Whatever it took.