Tony Stark was already at the front door, opening it, when his son ran up the steps of the porch, waving goodbye to Eric Tatro, who waited to make sure that Tony was present (even though he'd just gotten off the phone with him to tell him they were on the way to the house to drop Peter off) before honking the horn, cheerfully, and then turning the car back down the private driveway that protected the billionaire's home from prying eyes. Stark smiled, cheerfully, noticing Peter's excitement and wondering about it, but greeting him like he usually did rather than asking, just then.

He caught his son up in a hug, backpack and all.

"Hey, buddy. Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah." Peter hugged him, closely, for a moment – never forgetting that there had been a time when he hadn't had someone meeting him at the door and wanting to hold him – and then smiled up at him. "Ned's going to play football!" he told his father.

"He is?" Tony affected surprise – although he hadn't actually known, so it was a bit of a surprise, really. "Isn't he kind of young for that?"

"Isn't who too young for what?" Pepper asked, walking into the foyer of the house – having been alerted by JARVIS that Peter was home from spending the night at Ned's. She smiled at the little boy and swept him up into her arms to hug him, rather than leaning over and not being able to do the job, properly. "Hi, sweetheart. Did you have a good time?"

"It was great." He hugged her, but then wriggled to get down, far too excited to hold still, just then. "Ned's going to play football."

She frowned.

"He is?"

Peter nodded, looking at both of them and then reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, folded, brochure and handing it to his father.

"Yeah. It's a league for little kids. Eric said he could play," he paused for a breath. "And I could play, too."

"You're too little to play football," Pepper said, automatically. "They'll hurt you."

Peter shook his head, undaunted.

"It's for little kids," he repeated. Clearly she'd missed that. "I won't get hurt."

Tony had been reading the pamphlet.

"This says nine and ten year olds."

"I'm turning nine, next month," Peter reminded him, grinning, excitedly. "And it falls within the dates, so I'll be old enough."

The billionaire frowned, looking at his boy, uncertainly.

"I thought we talked about doing T-ball?"

"That's for babies," Peter told him. "This is for big kids."

"I don't know, Peter…" Tony said, unwilling to say no, outright, but definitely feeling a bit of apprehension at the idea of his little guy being tackled by a lot of kids who would undoubtedly be much larger than he was. "It's a pretty rough sport for a little guy like you."

Peter's enthusiasm faltered as he realized neither of them were as excited about him playing football as he was.

"I'd have pads on," he pointed out. "And a helmet. And the team is called the Giants, and they have blue and white uniforms, and-"

"I don't know, buddy," Tony said, gently. "Why don't you let us think about it, a bit? Maybe we can call the organizers and make sure that it's safe."

"I'm not going to get hurt," Peter told them, feeling his eyes sting with tears of disappointment. He'd been so excited, and so certain that they would be, too. "I'm little, but I'm pretty tough."

"Still…" Pepper started. "It's a rough and tumble spo-"

"Ned will be there, too," Peter interrupted. "He isn't going to let anyone-"

"Peter." The boy turned and looked up at Tony, who felt his stomach clench when he saw just how disappointed he was. "We're not saying no, okay?"

"It sounds like you are," he answered, and now the tears were coming hot and fast, rolling down his cheeks. "It's not fair. I'm going to be old enough. I can't help it that I'm little."

"I know. Just let us make some calls and discuss it, okay?"

Peter turned and ran off, unwilling to let them see him cry, but unable to stop. He didn't go to his room as he might have; instead, he ran out the sliding door that went into the back yard, stopping only long enough to close it behind him.

Pepper sighed, and looked at Tony.

"We probably could have handled that, better."

He nodded his agreement.

"It's new for us, still," he reminded her. They hadn't been a family that long, after all. It was only July and so far this had been the only real hiccup. Peter was a pretty easygoing kid, really, and despite the crazy abilities that he possessed, he wasn't complicated. Love him, hug him, and be there for him, and he was happy. "I'll go talk to him."

"Why don't you wait?" she suggested. "We can call Eric and see what he knows about this thing, first? Maybe we'll hear something that will ease some concerns that I have?"

"I have them, too," he assured her. He looked down at the paper in his hand, and then toward the back door. "JARVIS? You got him?"

"I'm watching him. He's nowhere near the pool."

The pool had been filled with water only a few weeks before, and Tony and Pepper had had an ornate fence built around it and the deck that surrounded it. Not to keep Peter out, they'd reminded him, but to make sure people didn't accidently fall in, or something. Peter was a good swimmer, and getting better with all the practice that he'd had, thus far that summer, but it never hurt to have that constant reminder.

"Is he alright?" Pepper asked, looking upset, herself.

"He's in the trees."

The trees were along the entire driveway, but inside the fence that surrounded the property. Tony had caught Peter there a time or two, trying to convince a squirrel that they could be friends. He liked being surrounded by them, and when Tony had asked, he'd simply replied that it was a calm place when things were busy, sometimes.

"Come on," Tony said, reaching for her elbow. "Let's call Eric and see what we can find out."

He wanted to figure this football thing out, as soon as possible. It made him ache to have Peter upset – especially when he was the reason he was upset.

OOOOOOOO

Peter made it to the trees without running into one, but he was blinded by tears when he got there, and he tucked himself into a little spot that he'd made for himself, there. It was a hollowed area between a couple of trees and the fence, and one of the few places that he knew JARVIS couldn't see him. Not that he was really hiding from the AI – he knew that JARVIS wasn't going to laugh at him for crying, after all – but he didn't want to talk, just then. Not even with JARVIS.

He just wanted to cry.

He'd been so excited when Ned had told him about the team that Eric was letting him join. It was a good way to learn about being part of a team, Eric had said, grinning proudly at his adopted son. Peter had asked them both a million questions about what the requirements were, and he'd practically vibrated himself off of the couch at the foster home when he'd learned that he was going to be old enough that he, too, could join the team.

Eric had reminded him that he had to ask Tony and Pepper, first, but Peter hadn't even considered that they'd say no. Tony was always reminding him that the Avengers were a team. Was always talking about how Steve had them all out to the compound, sometimes, to make sure they worked together, seamlessly. So they could learn teamwork. Peter hadn't even thought about making arguments for allowing him to play football, because he'd assumed that Tony would see that, too.

Only he hadn't. All he and Pepper had seen was that he was little. Like he had any control over that?

It wasn't fair.

A new wave of tears followed the last.

"What's wrong, little man?"

The voice startled Peter out of his tears, and he gasped when he realized that there was someone else hiding in his tree nook. A stranger who was looking at him, sympathetically, but curiously. Black hair that hung down around his face, making him look sort of scary – although Peter didn't feel his stomach clench like it did when he was around people who were being suspicious – or who might be a danger for him. He remembered what he'd felt when the SHIELD agents had tried to grab him, and when he'd initially met them. This man didn't make him feel afraid – but he was startled that he didn't feel him.

"Who are you?" Peter asked, looking into eyes that he thought looked tired – and maybe a little afraid, himself.

"I'm James," the man replied, with a thin smile. "But you can call me Bucky."