Hello everyone! I hope life is going well and your practicing some form of self care in these crazy times. I've recently gotten into sudoku and audiobooks and I highly recommend it for stress relief. Well, that and reading/writing fan fiction. Few things compare to that. :)

Enjoy!

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Chapter Eleven

Tony's phone kept going off in his pocket.

"MJ says she hasn't heard from Peter today. Ditto on Ned. Ned offered me hourly updates, but I opted out." Tony turned to Steve. "Anything from the team?"

Steve hated texting more than Tony hated decaf, but he'd painstakingly sent out texts to every member of the Avengers about his son's whereabouts. "Nothing."

"We'll find him."

Steve wasn't worried about them finding Peter. Not at all. He was much more worried about what he and Tony would do, would say, when they did find him.

"Tony, what are we going to do?"

Tony knew what he meant without him clarify. "Figure it out as we go. He's our son. Maybe there's some parental instincts that'll kick in. And there's always the internet and whatever resources money can buy, right?"

Steve knew Tony was right. He was always right. He was Tony Stark, and if someone could figure it out, it was him.

Unfortunately for Steve, Tony was just as worried and confused and clueless as his husband.

#

Peter finally settled on an empty classroom in the newly renovated honors section of the school.

It felt weird and wrong to take a nap in the back of a classroom, but his legs wouldn't make it all the way back to the tower. His eyes and head weren't correct either. So he pillowed his head on his arm, curled up facing the wall, and closed his eyes.

Peter was so consumed by anxiety over his escape from the tower and the constant pulse of his hunger that he hadn't noticed the blonde woman lurking in the hallway when he came in.

"Peter!" Came Steve's voice. "What are you doing?"

Peter's stomach sank further. "Pops, just leave me-"

By the time his Spidey sense kicked in- SOS painting itself on the inside of his eyelids as Peter realized the voice was Steve's but the steps were too light, too slow- a syringe caught him at the base of the neck and he didn't stand a chance.

His vision swam as Mockingbird, who was much more than a tech billionaire's girlfriend, rolled him onto his back and smiled down at him. She was still wearing her Greek letters with her blonde hair in a perfect messy bun.

"Nice to meet you, Peter. I know your dads."

For the umpteenth time this week, Peter passed out.

#

Maybe it was parental instinct. Maybe it was superhero instinct.

Either way, a few blocks from their stop, Tony sat straight up and let out a string of expletives more colorful than Manhattan Pride.

Steve leaned forward and tried to get his husband to meet his eyes. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Because Tony couldn't explain it. It was an electrical current popping along his spine. A voice murmuring that he needed to get to Peter right now. "Nothing, I'm just jumpy."

Steve put a hand on Tony's neck and kneaded his fingertips into his wire-tight muscles. It helped, a little.

When I get my hands on you, kid, Tony thought, you're grounded until you're old enough to move into assisted living.

I just want him to be okay, Steve thought. I just need him to be okay.

When they got to Queens, both heroes were on their feet before the bus sidled the curb.

Tony shamelessly shoved past an old man in the bus aisle, and the moment his toes hit the ground, began to run to the school.

Steve stopped to help the older man off the bus before sprinting after his husband. "Sorry about that, sir. We're in a rush."

The old man grumbled back some offensive racial slurs and Steve was tempted to push the man again himself.

Instead, he collected all of his self-control and ran after Tony. "Tony! Slow down!"

But Tony didn't slow down. His arms pumped like pistons, his designer shoes slapping against the grimy sidewalk. I'm not too late. I can't be too late.

He didn't know what he was too late for but he was late for something. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones.

Tony wished Happy was driving them because they would already be there. But Happy driving meant the paparazzi, and the last thing the Stark-Rogers wanted in this moment was paparazzi.

When Tony reached the school, he was out of breath and sweaty. His heart was smashing into his ribs and he was on his way to an anxiety attack. But there wasn't time to stop, to catch his breath, to calm down.

His mind was sifting through images of Peter unconscious from dehydration or hunger, mangled from a fall because he was too weak to properly grip onto a wall, even-

Stop.

Cut it out, Stark. You're not helping.

"Tony!"

Steve came up behind him and grabbed his shoulder.

Tony pulled away and marched up to the front doors of the school, yanking on the handles. "Steve it's locked, how are we going to-"

Hands closed on Tony's shoulders again but this time Tony couldn't shake them off. "Tony. Take a breath."

"Steve, we don't have time for this!"

But Tony couldn't shake Steve off. Steve was strong and stubborn and Tony was maybe kind of not really panicking.

"Three breaths. Come on."

Tony crossed his arms, his foot popping up and down like a jackhammer as he glared into Steve's eyes. If he had lasers like that guy from X-Men, he would have burned two perfect holes in Steve's blemish-free forehead.

Like a petulant child, Tony took three aggressive breaths before cocking an eyebrow. "There. I'm zen. Can we go find our son or do you need me to harmonize a chorus of kumbaya first?"

"Yeah, I love you, too, Tones."

Tony rolled his eyes, but Steve was right. Even though he was trying his hardest not to show it, the breaths had worked. Steadied him. He didn't feel like he was going to vibrate out of his skin anymore.

"How are we going to get in?" Tony asked, smacking his open palm against the door a couple of times. The only reply was the loud knocks echoing down the linoleum halls. "Or I guess a better question would be, if Peter got in there, how'd he do it?"

Steve looked up. "Probably the roof."

"Fuck!"

Steve startled a bit. "Tony, it's okay, we can-"

"We can what, Steve? We can help him? We can find him?" Tony dragged his hand under his nose before Steve could see that he was losing control of his emotions. "In case you missed it, we're not doing very well on child raising. Our son is gone. He's starving. He's not wearing shoes or a jacket. We learned how to make sure he did that when he was a toddler! We'll be contacted for celebrity guest staring on How Shitty Can You Parent any minute now."

Steve's nose wrinkled. "Is that a real show?"

"That's what you got out of that?" Tony inquired incredulously.

"I'm going to make you take deep breaths again if you don't-"

"I am a free agent so you can't-"

"Tony, I'm trying to help-"

"Controlling!" Tony yelled in a singsong tone.

"Wait, Tony, is that-" Steve pointed up to the roof.

"I'm not falling for that!"

"No, I'm serious!" Steve bodily spun Tony around and Tony was embarrassed that it… did things to him… to be manhandled like that. "Isn't that the billionaire's girlfriend up there?"

"The… the what?"

"The guy you took into custody this morning. Isn't that his girlfriend?"

Tony followed Steve's finger and watched as a beautiful young woman ran across the roof of the school and leapt to the ground like the fall was nothing more than leaping off the bottom two steps. The fall should've broken her shins and knees on impact. Instead, she kept running, disappearing between two brick apartment buildings in a flash of pink.

"Oh, shit, Steve."

Steve froze.

She- was it possible-

Did she recreate the serum?

"Tony, should we go after her?"

Tony looked up at him incredulously. "We need to find Peter. What if she was here for him?"

Wordlessly, Steve moved Tony aside and kicked the door of the school open, wood chips spraying across the floor as the door jam splintered.

Usually, Tony would make some smart ass comment about Captain America and destruction of property but he couldn't think about anything other than his son.

If that was her… if that was the asshole who took Steve out back on the West Coast… What if she had done that to his son? Peter was special, like Steve, but he was just a teenager.

If that bitch did something to his son, she wouldn't live long enough to regret it.

"Peter!" Steve yelled, checking all the classrooms on the first level as Tony beelined for the stairwell.

"You check down here, I'll take the second story."

Steve nodded and ducked into another room.

Tony took the steps two at a time and almost fell flat on his face when he reached the top one.

It was wet. Someone had been here, cleaning, within the last few hours.

That would explain how Peter got in.

"Peter!" Tony called out.

Tony checked classroom after classroom. Each time he dared to look, his heart skipped a beat.

What if she-

What if Peter-

Useless.

You're going to be useless if you start to panic. Find your son, chew him out for scaring the shit out of you, and then go punch things in the training room later to feel better.

Right as Tony could hear Steve's boots smacking up the stairs behind him, movement at the end of the hall caught Tony's eye. The last door of the honors wing was ajar and swinging closed slowly. The creaking echoed along the walls and Tony felt an icy rush in his veins.

Peter Peter Peter.

He didn't process running or pushing the door open or falling to his knees by the crumpled form at the back of the room facing the wall.

"Hey, kid," he whispered, his voice cracking more than he wanted as he placed a hand on Peter's chest. It was warm and full and moving.

He was alive.

He was alive.

But right below his left ear, in the hollow space between his jaw and neck, was a bloody patch the size of a thumbnail.

Just like the one Steve had.

Tony didn't know what this meant. Didn't know what she wanted, if she had figured out what made Steve super, or was super herself and looking for a way to mass-produce it. All Tony knew was she had touched his son and he wanted to kill her.

"Peter!" Steve dropped down beside him and pressed his ear to Peter's chest. His shoulders drooped. "Oh thank God. I thought he was-"

Tony ran his palm along the base of Steve's spine, letting him take a minute to catch his breath.

"Tony, she got him." Steve gently turned Peter's head so he could better see the small wound. Unconsciously, his other hand started rubbing the spot where his own cut had been. "What is she going to do with it?"

"I have no idea. But I'm going to text Fury from the car and get him to find out."

Tony texted Happy to come get them at the school with one of the least flashy cars. Maybe the Audi or the scratched Ferrari. While Tony's fingers flew across the keys, Steve took off his jacket and put it over Peter.

The dumb kid wasn't even wearing shoes.

Steve placed the back of his hand against one of Peter's cheek. It was like ice.

"Tony, tell Happy to bring blankets, socks, gloves… all of it."

Peter was so cold. His hands and feet were bright red, his cheeks flushed.

Carefully, Steve sat him up and propped his head on his shoulder, hugging him tight to his chest.

-the first thing he felt when the plane hit the ice floe was the cold air leaking in from a busted window-

-then the water came in, coating his fingers and the control panel-

-his hands were red and numb within minutes. His fingers stopped moving after-

"Steve? Hey!"

Steve shook his head and tightened his arms around Peter. Peter was still cold, too cold, but he wasn't shivering. That had to count. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"I wasn't saying anything," Tony said, his eyes searching Steve's a little too intently. "Happy is on his way. He'll be here as soon as he can."

Steve nodded, pulled the hood of his coat up around Peter's ears. It was going to get blood on it, but that was fine. Steve could buy another coat.

"Let me get another look at his neck."

Steve wanted to pull away, tell Tony no, let me warm him up first, but there was no logical reason to keep Tony from touching Peter. Tony loved Peter just as much as Steve did. He wouldn't hurt him.

"It's not even bleeding anymore," Tony said, tugging the hood back in place. "I'll clean it out and bandage it when we get home."

"Tony, he feels so light."

Tony's chest squeezed as the reason for their trek across town came back to him.

The day started with Peter not eating and now some psycho was walking around with a hack job skin biopsy from the side of Peter's neck.

One of Steve's hands came up to the side of Peter's face as Steve kissed his son's forehead. Peter would never let him do that if he was awake. Pops, gross.

"Let's get him home, Tony."

#

Peter's head was pillowed on Tony's lap as Steve wrestled Peter's feet into two pairs of oversized socks.

"I mean, who walks around New York- and takes the bus- without shoes on?"

Tony gave Happy a look. "Clearly, my son does."

"You might want to teach him not to do that."

Steve gave Tony a pointed stare before Tony could cross over from snarky to snappy. Happy was trying to distract them.

Don't bite one of the few people who wouldn't sell us out to People magazine.

Steve checked his current work. He had put two jackets, two pairs of socks, and a ski cap on Peter. And draped a blanket over all of it. "Is that enough, or should I-"

Tony was hot just looking at Peter, but he knew there was no convincing Steve that one blanket would have been enough, so he smiled and nodded. "Steve, he's fine. Whatever she gave him-" Tony glanced down at the syringe mark at the base of Peter's throat- "will wear off soon enough and then we can find him a seminar on why walking around barefoot in NYC is a bad idea even when you're mad at your dads."

"What'd you guys fight about?" Happy asked, eyes darting between the road ahead and the review mirror.

"Grades," Tony offered too quickly.

Steve grimaced but nodded along.

Everyone knew it was bullshit. Peter Stark-Rogers was the pinnacle of perfection when it came to school. But fortunately for everyone, Peter began to stir at that exact moment.

"Hey, monkey," Tony said, "you and I need to have a discussion about your sleep schedule because I'm kind of done having you pass out randomly. It's annoying and you're heavy."

Right after the words left his mouth, Tony closed his eyes and tried to think of a way to take it back.

He just made a weight joke to someone struggling with disordered eating.

And no points for Stark because he is a total dumbass.

Luckily, Peter was still coming off of whatever that woman gave him and didn't seem to hear Tony anyway. Pulling his shaky elbows beneath him like a baby giraffe, Peter sat up and rubbed the side of his face. Tony caught his hand right before he could touch the open cut on his neck.

"Easy. You don't want it to start bleeding again."

"Bleeding?" Peter grumbled. "Why is my- holy crap! Dad! There was this lady and she changed her voice so she sounded just like Pops and then she… oh my god!"

"We saw her, too," Steve chimed in. "She made her voice sound like yours during the mission we went on a week ago. The one your Dad was following up on yesterday."

Tony knew all of this from the report, and because Steve had told him early one morning, but it still messed with him. Hearing their son's voice coming from someone else… he didn't like the idea of that.

Peter tried to touch his neck again but this time Steve stopped him.

"Pops! I just want to see how big it is!"

"Peter, you've been walking around New York all morning-"

"What Pops is trying to say," Tony interrupted, "is keep your grimy, street child hands away from the open wound."

Peter was moody the rest of the way back to the tower, arms crossed and eyes down. Neither parent tried to talk to him.

Let him have his space, Tony thought, because we are in for one hell of a confrontation when we get home. And this time, I'll make sure he can't just walk out the front door when he gets frustrated.

#

Back at the tower, Peter was quick to tell everyone he needed to clean his 'grimy, street child' body before their chat. With a pointed look at Tony, he ran off to the bathroom.

Tony was tempted to make him sit down right now, grime and all. He knew Peter and his son's eyes were dodgy, like a caged animal.

Peter wasn't Peter today. He was scared, and on guard, and irrational. Tony had to put Jarvis under strict instructions not to let Peter leave the tower because he was worried Peter would climb out a window.

Tony was pulled back into the moment by the soft sound of Steve's teeth chattering.

No, not now. Not today.

Steve smiled at Tony, trying to reassure him. "Sorry. It's cold in here. I'm going to grab a sweater before Peter comes back."

Tony nodded but couldn't bring himself to smile in return.

Not now, not now, not now.

It was over seventy degrees in the tower. Warm enough that Tony knew Peter adjusted the thermostat when Steve wasn't home. Steve didn't need a sweater in this climate. Especially not when he was already wearing a fleece thermal.

Tony fought the different urges firing off in his brain: go to Steve, go to Peter, go to the workshop and have a drink.

The last one wasn't a real option, but thinking about it made him feel less trapped.

Steve and Peter aren't burdens. They're not traps.

So why did he feel like he couldn't breathe?

Ten minutes later, Peter came out of his bedroom, hands tucked into his sweatshirt pocket. He was wearing oversized sweatpants and fuzzy socks. He was trying to disappear in all of the fabric and it was working. He looked smaller, frail.

"Sit," Tony instructed. "Before anything else, let me see your neck."

Peter touched a fingertip to the bandage tapped under his jaw. "I cleaned it and everything. There's a med kit under my sink."

"Good."

Peter eyed Tony anxiously, fidgeting with his fingers inside the pocket as he stood an arms width from the kitchen table. "Dad, I'm sorry. About earlier. I shouldn't have- you know. I shouldn't have left."

Tony's eyes softened and he wanted to pull Peter onto his lap like he did back when Peter didn't go past his hip. "It's fine. No hard feelings. Just don't do it again."

Peter nodded and finally sat in one of the chairs, pulling his feet up onto the seat so he could drop his chin onto his knees.

They sat like that for a minute, both lost in their own worlds before Peter shifted and dared to look his dad in the eyes. "Is Pops okay?"

"Just grabbing something different to wear," Tony said, voice puffed up with enough false cheer to staff Macy's on Christmas Eve. "I think you got some street grime and blood on him and you know how Steve is with stuff like that."

"You're lying."

Tony crossed his arms and stared at his son, incredulous. "Excuse me?"

"Dad, you're lying to me." Peter said, simply, like he was relaying the weather or time of day. His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "It's another cold episode, isn't it?"

"Peter, it's not-"

"Master Tony, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I believe there's a situation that needs your assistance in the bathroom."

Tony was torn. Because if he left Peter here, let him slip away even further, even faster…

"Kid, if I go, can you do something for me?"

Peter blanched. He knew exactly what Tony was going to say. And it terrified him.

"Just… just eat something, okay? Anything. An apple, a carton of ice cream, one of those energy drinks you turn into slushies… just something. Please, kid." Tony stood up and glanced behind him. I can't lose either of you.

Peter's eyes were wide and scared. Sometimes Tony forgot Peter was a kid. No kid should be around for this. "Dad, is he-"

"No, Peter," Tony said. "He's not." And neither are you.

And I'm drowning with the both of you.

#

"Steve?"

The bathroom was bathed in shadows, the only light leaking in off the street from the small window sitting above their shower.

Tony could barely make out the shivering lump leaning against the bathtub.

"I'm f-f-f-ine," Steve reasoned, his voice hoarse and broken. "Just-t a litt-t-le bit c-c-cold."

Tony sank down beside him, and after making sure his palm and fingers were warm, carefully placed his hands on the sides of Steve's face. Steve's skin was cold to the touch.

"What can I do for you right now? I can draw a warm bath, get some blankets, a mug of tea…" Tony pushed Steve's hair out of his eyes and tried to get Steve to look at him. The meager lighting wasn't helping him establish eye contact. "We can sit right here, too. Whatever you need."

Steve shook his head and began to tremble. "Wha-t-t about Pe-e-ter?"

I'll handle that once I've made sure you're okay. "He's in the kitchen right now. Jarvis is watching him for me. He'll let me know how he's doing."

"Master Peter ate two orange slices before locking himself in his room," Jarvis reported.

"See. That's something." Not enough, not nearly enough, but I can't think about that right now or I'm going to end up right next to you on the cold, hard tile. "I'm going to talk to him later. Right now, let me help you, alright?"

Steve nodded and Tony sat beside him so he could somewhat pull Steve to his chest.

Steve was wearing layers, in a hot apartment, and he was freezing. Shivering, teeth chattering, nose and cheeks tinted pink.

It took a few tries for the words to make it past his lips, but Steve finally whispered about a hot bath.

Tony kissed his hair and got to work. Turning on the faucet and filling the tub with steaming water. Pouring some sort of scented bath salt into the basin so the water was a light purple and nothing like the arctic blue of the ocean where Steve crashed the plane. Gathering the warmest clothes he could find for once Steve was done.

"I'm-" Steve began, fingers knotted in his hair as he tried to quell his shivering. "Tony, I'm so-"

"Hold it right there, Spangles." Tony sat back down beside Steve, lacing their fingers together with one hand and clasping his husband's forearm with the other. "No apologies. Not about this, not ever. This is superhero stuff, okay? It comes with the territory. It comes with all of the amazing things you have done for the world. Just let me be here with you."

"B-but Peter-"

Tony shook his head and kissed Steve's forehead. It was like kissing something fresh out of the freezer. "Peter will be okay for an hour or two. Let's get you warm and then we can figure out how to help our son."

When the tub was full, Tony helped Steve get to his feet and shakily strip out of the many, many layers he had crammed on. Every layer of clothing removed sent a wave of tremors through Steve's body.

Steve was still a bit shaky on his feet, so Tony had to help him climb in so he didn't slip, arms straining with the effort of supporting Steve's weight.

The moment Steve sat down, heat flooding his chest and limbs as warmth seeped from the water into his bones, he sighed in relief. His cold episodes always left him exhausted and weak. But the warmth was fighting off the tension, and gradually, easing the shakiness away, too.

"I've got you," Tony whispered before kissing the side of Steve's head and running his hands along his bare shoulders. Steve had slumped over the lip of the tub, pillowing his head on his forearms. Tony's hands, warm and steady and right there on his skin, grounded him in a way nothing else could.

Steve took a deep breath and let it out. No stuttering. "I know you do."

They just sat there for a while, Tony's hands roaming the planes of Steve's back and arms and over his hair. Pushing heat into Steve's skin with every brush of his fingers. Reminding him that he was here, in the tower, not on the plane or in the ocean or on the ice. He was with Tony and no one could harm him while Tony was around.

"Jarvis, how's the kid?" Steve asked, voice steady.

"He is in his room. He appears to be doing sit ups."

Tony's hands stopped on Steve's skin. "He's doing what?"

"Well, Master Tony, sit ups are a cardio exercise-"

Steve sat up and fingered the scar along his neck. A nervous tick he had picked up recently. "Jarvis, how many has he done?"

"Almost eighty nine. But I must say, the last fifty or so have not been very good examples of form."

Steve closed his eyes, breathing in the heat and lavender of the bath one last time. "Tony."

But by the time Steve opened his eyes, Tony already had a fresh towel draped over one arm. "It's time. Let's go talk to Peter."

#

Thanks so much for reading! Fair warning: the next few chapters are going to get rather intense so prepare yourselves for some next level angst and h/c.

Thanks again!

~Ann