AN: TW: Sexual Abuse

I forgot to add this story to the series when I originally posted it, so if this is your first notification for this story, please go back and read chapter 1! Also, please read Peter, You're Suspended FIRST at the very least because this references some things Peter tells his dads at a later time. This saga will have the first of the holidays I mentioned in Peter, You're Gone after Peter has come home. I plan to do Peter's birthday and the anniversary of the day he disappeared as well. (Though I realize those aren't technically holidays). I hope you enjoy!

December 24, 2017

Peter contemplated his life as he swung through Queens - not really on patrol.

His dads had been acting weird ever since he came home, he had recognized that.

But their conversation before he left had him confused - it was weirder than he had become accustomed to.

Both had seemed extra anxious when Peter had said goodbye to them before coming out for his normal patrol - were they changing their minds about him being Spiderman? He had thought it was too good to be true when they had said he could be Spiderman… maybe they just said it so he wouldn't leave again so soon, and now that he had been home for a while, they were going to take it away.

Peter knew he wouldn't run. He never wanted to go back to living on the streets - not with what he had had to do to earn money to barely keep him afloat. If he had to choose between prostituting himself and not being Spiderman, he would choose not being Spiderman every time.

He had said he was going out for patrol, and both had acted surprised. It was a Sunday night, he always patrolled on Sunday night. Dad had asked if he was sure and Papa had an edge to his voice when he told him to be safe.

When Peter finally pulled his mind away from his musings about his dads, he looked up to find himself in Times Square, surrounded by Christmas decorations and carols and -

Shit.

"Karen, what's the date?" Peter asked.

"It is December 24th at 10PM.

Double shit. They had always spent Christmas Eve together, and without school, Peter had lost complete track of the date. He knew Christmas was soon, he had Christmas presents for his dads, but he had lost complete track of the date.

He turned on his heel and made his way hastily back home, not sure how he would apologize to his dads for forgetting it was Christmas Eve. They normally went out looking at lights, had some hot chocolate, and opened one present each - pajamas. Them they would watch a Christmas movie, during which Peter normally fell asleep, and Papa would carry him to bed.

Damn it! Peter had been looking forward to it, and he couldn't escape the feeling that he had just ruined his first Christmas back.

His dads had asked him to stop using his bedroom window to come and go, so he took the stairs two at a time, too anxious to wait for the elevator, before bursting out into the kitchen - which was empty.

Peter listened, and he could hear both heartbeats, but couldn't tell where they came from.

He slowly made his way down to his Dad's lab, and was not surprised by what he found. Dad was typing away slowly with one hand, his other hand running through Papa's hair.

He often found them in that position when they were sad, and right now the sight was a punch to the stomach.

He hesitated outside the doors - maybe he had messed up too much. Maybe they wouldn't want to do anything for Christmas now - he didn't care about presents, but he desperately wanted to spend time with them.

He must have moved to close to the door without realizing, because it opened automatically, startling all three of them. Dad and Papa whirled around to look at Peter, and Peter's eyes welled with tears.

"What's wrong, bambino?" Dad was up in an instant, quickly making his way across the room to Peter. He cupped Peter's face in his hand. "Are you hurt? Why are you crying?"

Papa was there too. "Peter, baby? Are you okay?"

For some reason, Peter couldn't stop the tears, he just threw himself into both of their arms. "I'm so sorry." He choked out, unable to stop.

"Pete, what happened?" Papa asked gently, though Peter could hear the anxiety in his voice.

Their was always anxiety in their voices.

"I didn't - I didn't realize the date." Peter couldn't meet either of their eyes.

"What?" Dad sounded amused, and Peter shook his head.

"I was in the middle of my patrol when I realized - when I realized it was Christmas Eve."

"Ahh, so you weren't blowing us off, you just didn't realize what day it was?" Papa sounded amused now too.

"It's not funny!" Peter snapped, looking up. Both had small smiles playing on their lips that they were trying to school into serious expressions - unsuccessfully. "I was looking forward to today! Why didn't someone remind me! I - I -"

"Oh, Petey," Papa sighed, pulling him into a hug and kissing the top of his head. "I'm sorry, we thought you needed space. We didn't want to guilt you into staying home if that's not what you wanted."

"But I did want to! I'm sorry! And now it's too late-"

"Says who?" Dad cut his panic off.

"It's almost 11PM. Its almost not Christmas Eve anymore."

"That just means its almost Christmas, not that it's too late. Come on, just because we are getting a late start doesn't mean it's too late."

"But- but- are you sure?" Peter asked, looking between the two. "It's not too late?"

"It's never too late." Dad scoffed. "I'm an insomniac and Papa is a super soldier. We can handle being up late tonight."

Peter cracked a slight smile before turning serious. "But - I'm not too late?"

"Peter, we would wait forever for you." Papa assured him. He was grabbing jackets and blankets and wrapping Peter up tight. "Let's go look at Christmas lights."

Their favorite drive thru Christmas show as open until 2AM that night, but Peter didn't remember much of the show itself. Once they were in line he climbed up front and wedged himself between his dads, reveling in their presence and their warmth.

"I came home last year." He said before he could stop himself. He cursed himself as both dads whirled to look at him.

"What?" They both asked at the same time.

"It was - it was sometime the week between Christmas and New Years. I had had a rough day. And I - I just wanted to hear your voices." He looked down. "I missed you both a lot. I just - I still didn't think you would have missed me. And I didn't stay for long, but I did miss you."

"I wish we'd have seen you." Tony said gently. "I would have wrapped you in my arms and never let you go. Told you everything would be okay."

"Do you want to talk about why it was such a bad day that it drove you home?" Papa asked gently, and Peter flinched.

"No." He said firmly. "I'm - I'm not ready to talk about it." How would he tell them that he came home because the men at the bar had been particularly rough with him that day? Drunk and loud and rough. He'd been overstimulated in every sense of the word, and tired. Thinking back on that night, he didn't know how he had managed almost another year of all of it.

"You don't have to." Papa ran his hand through Peter's hair, gently, and lovingly. Peter allowed to touch to flood him, he leaned into it, allowing it to drown out his memory of rougher, dirtier hands doing the same thing. "We love you so much Peter. We would do anything for you."

"I know." He said quietly, and he did know. Now, he knew that. "Thank you."

"For what, bambino?"

"For… everything."

They never made it to the hot chocolate and the pajamas and the movie, because by the time the three pulled back into the Compound, Peter was fast asleep. And their night still ended with Papa carrying him to bed and tucking him in.

"Good night Pete." Papa kissed his head lightly. "Love you."

Peter moved around a bit, getting comfortable. If it wasn't for Steve's super hearing, he wouldn't have heard Peter's response.

"Love you too."