Peter's eyes and cheeks were wet when he walked up to where Tony was standing, waiting for him. It was July, so the weather was nice, and all of the trees on the property provided shade to allow it to stay cool, even when it was really, really warm.

"Are you alright?" Tony asked, sitting down on the back step that led down to the pool deck, and watching his son walk up.

"Yeah." He forgot about Bucky, though, wanting to turn the conversation back to the football team that he wanted so badly to join. "I just really am mad," he told Tony, and he felt his eyes sting with new tears. "I'll be old enough to play, and I really want to play."

Tony nodded.

"I know."

"Ned's playing."

Which meant everything to Peter, Tony knew. He didn't want to be left out.

"We didn't say no," Tony reminded him.

"You didn't say yes, though, either." Peter sat down next to his father. The man that he loved more than anyone in the world – although Pepper was a close second. "I thought you'd be happy about it," Peter said, mournfully. He leaned over and put his cheek on Tony's leg, needing the contact and the reassurance that the touch would give him. "You guys always tell me I need to learn teams. Football is with teams."

The billionaire rubbed Peter's back with his hand, relieved that the boy was willing to talk it out. It could have been a lot worse, after all. Peter could have found a big stick and a knapsack and threatened to run away from home, or something, if he didn't get his way.

"It's also a lot of tackling and people can get hurt."

"They have pads," Peter told him – again – turning his head and looking up at him with one big, brown, eye. "And helmets."

"I know, buddy." He sighed. "Your mom and I talked about it, and we're going to let you try out, next weekend."

Peter sat up, eyes wide.

"You are?"

"Yeah." Tony picked him up and put him in his lap. "You're right; it wasn't fair of us to say no, immediately, just because you're little."

"You just don't want me to get hurt," Peter said, resting his cheek on Tony's shoulder, now. "Because you love me."

"More than anything." He threaded his fingers through Peter's curls. "But try not to get hurt, okay? If something happened, your mom and I might be tempted to put you in a crate, or something, for the next ten years."

Peter laughed at that and hugged Tony, tight.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He stood up, sweeping Peter off his feet for a moment, before setting him down. "Eric is going to email us the list of what you'll need. Until then, why don't we go spend time with mom?"

"Okay."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Pepper was sitting on the sofa, reading through the pamphlet when Peter came running into the living room with Tony following at a more sedate pace. She looked him over, even as he climbed onto the couch beside her. His cheeks were still smeared with tears that hadn't dried, and his eyes were wet, but they were excited, now, rather than disappointed. She felt a surge of warmth go through her at the thought that this little guy was hers, now. It never seemed to get old, she thought, as she set the pamphlet aside and gave him her full attention.

"Are you alright?"

The little boy nodded, still on his knees, but watching her.

"Tony said that you guys are going to let me play."

"Well…" she wasn't certain if it was a good idea to let him think that his tears and the mini tantrum (if that was what that had been) had been what made them change their minds. Peter was a fairly level-headed child, and was usually pretty easy to make happy. She didn't want to raise a spoiled brat, though. "We called Eric," she told him. "And we let him talk us into it."

"Wow." He leaned over and wrapped his arms around her, excited and so happy he thought he might have a heart attack, or something – although he wisely didn't say that to his parents. "Thank you."

She made a noise and hugged him, back, looking at Tony who shrugged, obviously just as relieved that the rough moment had passed.

"You're welcome." She kissed the top of his head, and then pushed him back enough that she could look at him, wiping his cheeks with her thumbs to clear the last of the tears. "What else did you do at Eric's this weekend?"

The boy launched into a complete retelling of the entire two days that he'd been at his former foster parents' home, hanging out and having his first real sleepover. It had only been Friday night into Saturday afternoon, but from the deep breath he'd taken, there was clearly plenty to tell. Tony sat down on the other side of him, relaxing, as well, and both adults gave him their full attention – all the while hoping that football wasn't as awful an idea as they thought it would be.

OOOOOOOO

"Wait… what?"

Tony smiled, feeling a little better about his own reaction when he saw it echoed in Natasha Romanoff's expression.

"Ned is playing football – on a team – and Peter is going to play, too."

"He's just a baby, Tony," she reminded him. "He'll get hurt."

The billionaire shrugged, looking out the window toward the backyard and watching as Peter played in the pool with Pepper sitting on the edge, feet dangling in the water and occasionally splashing him as he swam around, happily. Then he turned back to the conversation.

"You're welcome to try and talk him out of it," he told her. "I'd advise you avoid the word baby, though, when you do. I pointed out that he was pretty little, and it blew up in my face."

"How did he talk you into it?" she asked, shaking her head.

"He cried and said it wasn't fair – that he was going to be old enough, and it wasn't his fault that he was little. Which is true."

She shook her head, well aware that Tony wouldn't have had any defense against actual tears. Not from Peter, anyway. She was certain that if she tried that tactic to get him to do something she wanted, it most likely wouldn't work.

"He's going to get massacred."

Before he could reply, she turned her head, obviously talking to someone else, and then Nick put his head into the camera range, looking at the other man.

"Peter's going to play football?"

He didn't look all that pleased about it, either, but that was his normal expression, really.

"He's going to try out," Tony temporized. "Next weekend."

"What position?" Tony heard someone else – Steve, he decided – ask from out of the camera area.

"What position?" Nick asked, dutifully.

Tony gave a helpless shrug.

"As far as I'm concerned, he can be the water boy and stay on the sidelines."

"He won't do that," Natasha said, moving close enough to Nick to be seen. "You know that."

"Yeah. We'll have to do some research," he admitted. "I know the positions, but not much more than that, really. Maybe he can find one that he likes, but is relatively safe…"

Steve moved into the display.

"Bring him out here, Tony," he said. "We can do some hands on research. I know the game as well as anyone, and Sam and Clint both played in college. We should be able to figure out a position that he'll enjoy – and maybe one that will be low contact."

Stark nodded, giving the others a slight smile.

"When is your schedule free?"

It wasn't like they weren't busy people, after all. Just because Peter was out of school for the summer, it didn't mean the Avenger didn't have things to do other than wait around for an eight-year-old to come hang out with them. Even one that they all doted on, like Peter.

"We're good for Tuesday," Nick replied for all of them. He knew the schedule as well as anyone. "Will that work?"

"I'll see if there are any meetings that I have to attend," Tony told him. He could – of course – just allow Natasha or Steve to come and pick Peter up and take him out to the compound, but this was definitely something that Tony thought he should be in on. It was a dad thing, he supposed – and he wanted to know what positions they were trying Peter out at, too. Before the tryout on the weekend. "I'll let you know. Thank you."

He'd meant that for all of them, and they didn't need him to explain.

"You're welcome," Natasha said. "Where is he, now?"

"Out swimming with Pepper."

She smiled,

"Tell him to call me, later, so I can hear all about his sleepover at Ned's."

The billionaire rolled his eyes, amused.

"Be prepared to have your ear talked off."

The assassin didn't look concerned.

"I'm looking forward to it."