Romanoff was the only one waiting for them when the SUV pulled up to the compound's main entrance. She smiled as the car stopped, leaning against a column until Peter unbuckled himself from his seat and opened the door. She noticed that he didn't get out, immediately, though, and saw Tony look back at the boy before he actually got out from behind the wheel.
"How was the drive?"
The billionaire shrugged.
"Easy. How-"
Peter finally got out of the car, running over to her, and Romanoff was quick to notice that the front of his jeans was distended.
"Hi, Natasha!"
The assassin swept him up into her arms, cheered as she always was when he was nearby.
"There's my favorite guy. How are you?"
Peter's eyes were excited.
"We went to the store and got my stuff for football."
She smiled.
"I heard."
Peter squirmed to get down and she set him on his feet. He looked up at her and grinned, and then gestured to his midsection.
"Hit me in the balls!"
The superspy frowned.
"What?"
Tony rolled his eyes.
"Don't call them that, buddy."
Peter frowned, too, looking at Tony.
"That's what you call them."
"Because I'm a guy," Stark told his son. "It's okay when you're talking to another guy. But you can't be so crude when talking to women. They don't like it."
Peter looked over at Natasha, who nodded her agreement, and then looked back at Tony.
"What do I call them?"
Stark shrugged.
"Testicles? Gonads? Something like that."
The boy looked at Romanoff, again, and grinned.
"Hit me in the testicles!"
She smirked, figuring it out, quickly, and amused at his excitement over something so mundane – and then pretended to be concerned.
"Wouldn't that hurt you?" she asked.
"I got a cup," Peter assured her, swinging his hand and thumping his knuckles against his groin to demonstrate. "See? It doesn't hurt. Try it."
Now it was Tony's turn to smirk, but Romanoff wasn't even fazed. She knelt down in front of Peter and flicked her fingers against the front of his jeans, feeling the hard plastic under the fabric. Her eyes widened in mock amazement that made Peter grin.
"Wow."
Tony smiled to hear her use Peter's favorite phrase.
"Neat, huh?" the boy asked.
"It is." She stood up, again. "Did you guys get everything that you're going to need, then?"
"Yeah."
"Everything on the list," Tony confirmed. He gestured to the SUV. "Get your bag, Peter. We'll show everyone all at once."
"Okay."
The boy trotted to the back of the car, and the hatched open as he reached it. He brought out a fairly large equipment bag and brought it over.
"Did you buy out the store?" Romanoff asked, amazed at the size of the bag – but well aware that Peter wasn't going to have any problem carrying it because of the weight, although he did have trouble with its bulk. "I thought the football teams supply the uniforms?"
"And pads, and helmets, and uniforms," Tony confirmed. He touched a button on his keys that closed the hatch. "But Peter needed some things that the league doesn't supply. Cleats, some extra t-shirts, a mouthpiece, some footballs so we could play catch."
"And a cup," Romanoff added, smiling at the boy.
"Right."
"The others are here?" Tony asked as they headed for the door.
"Of course."
They walked into the compound and were greeted almost immediately by Steve and Sam. Both men were wearing casual clothing; jeans, sneakers, and well-worn t-shirts. They smiled when they saw Peter, who dropped the bag and ran over, giggling when Steve caught him up in his arms and hugged him.
"Hey, Peter!" Sam said, stealing the boy from Captain America and hugging him, as well. He grinned. "Are you wearing a cup?"
Peter grinned.
"Yeah. Neat, huh?"
Steve smiled; Peter's excitement was adorable and amusing.
"It's great."
"You can't wear it too much, though," Sam warned him. "Especially if you're not used to it. It'll give you a rash and you won't be walking for weeks."
"Okay."
Another eyeroll from Tony.
"I told him that."
"Yeah," Sam said, smugly, turning Peter upside down and dangling him by his ankles. "You're his dad, though. He has to ignore you, sometimes."
Peter giggled, again.
"Where's Clint and Nick?"
"Clint is out in the field," Steve replied. "Nick is working."
"He'll probably come out and see what we're up to, later, though," Natasha assured the boy. She picked up the equipment bag, frowned at how heavy it was and handed it over to Steve. "Let's go play football."
"Yay!"
Peter twisted in Sam's grip, managed to get his feet under him and ran for the far exit, followed by the other at a much more sedate pace.
"Pepper's a little worried about him getting hurt," Tony told them once the boy was out of earshot. "The clerk at the store and I have managed to get him away from the idea of being a lineman –"
"He's too little to make a good lineman," Sam interrupted. "He'd need to be a running back – or maybe a receiver."
"Or a safety," Steve added. "As strong as Peter is, he can wear all of the safety equipment that the bigger kids are wearing, and he won't be dragged down by it."
"You've talked to him about not doing anything to give away his abilities?" Natasha asked.
"Not, yet." Tony shrugged. "He hasn't even had his first practice – much less tryouts. For all we know, he'll suck and will be riding the bench."
"He's not going to suck," Sam said, looking scandalized that Stark would even consider such a thing. "He's probably going to be amazing."
"Let's not put too much pressure on him," Steve suggested. "He's a little guy, remember. It's supposed to be fun for him." He gave Tony a pointed look. "Right?"
"Of course. As long as he doesn't get hurt."
"Getting hurt is part of the fun," Sam laughed. "A battle scar to show the honeys."
Romanoff rolled her eyes, amused, and not bothering to hide it.
"The only honey Peter has right now is me," she reminded the men. "And I don't want him to have any battle scars. Got it?"
Sam laughed, holding his hands up in surrender.
"Yes, Momma Spider. We get it."
OOOOOOOOO
They found Peter outside with Clint, and it turned out that Tony and his son hadn't really needed to bring anything with them. There were several footballs of various sizes, and the boy was watching as Clint demonstrated the proper technique for throwing a spiral. He grinned at the others when they walked over and Clint tossed the ball at Tony.
"I thought you were doing T-ball," he said.
Stark shrugged, catching the football, easily.
"Apparently t-ball is for babies. Peter heard Ned was playing football, and since he's old enough – next month – we let him talk us into letting him play, too."
"Lose the cup, buddy," Sam said, reaching down and picking up one of the footballs from the ground. Then we'll run you through some of the positions and see which one works best for you."
"Wow."
OOOOOOOOO
"Well?"
Tony smiled, looking in the rearview mirror at the little boy who was sleeping in the back seat as they drove back to the house. It was much later than he'd intended to return, but Peter had been having a good time, and none of the others were willing to call it a day too quickly. The boy had run around the field at the compound for hours, chasing Sam, Clint, and Steve, and being chased in turn whenever he had a football in his arms.
They'd had an early dinner, but Tony had declined the invitation to stay the night – reminding Peter that they had a few things that needed to be done at the tower the next day, and that Pepper was waiting for them at home. Besides, he knew that the others were busy. They'd taken a large portion of their day for Peter, and Tony appreciated it, but they had things to do, he knew. He'd dragged Peter's equipment bag back to the car, watched while Peter said his goodbyes to the others, and then had bundled his son back into the car and they headed for home.
Peter had fallen asleep almost immediately.
"He's going to try out for receiver or safety – unless the coaches tell him that he should do something else, instead."
"Can he catch?" Pepper asked, curiously.
"His hands are pretty small, but he did great." He glanced at the sleeping boy, again. "Clint and Sam spent a lot of time explain each position and telling him stories about when they played."
"Not Steve?"
Tony smirked.
"Steve didn't play football. He was pretty scrawny and never made any of the teams that he tried out for."
"Really?"
"Amazing, isn't it?"
"Inconceivable."
"But true."
"And that didn't discourage Peter?"
"That Steve was too little to play football? Not at all. He just pointed out that Steve could learn while Peter did."
Pepper shook her head, but she had pretty much accepted the fact that the boy was going to play football. Now it was just a matter of making sure he was prepared enough to avoid being hurt.
"Are you headed home?"
"Yes."
"Stop and get milk, will you?"
The billionaire smirked. How mundane.
He loved it.
"Yes, dear."