The silence was the first sign that something was wrong.

3AM was prime screaming time, and Seb took advantage of it as much as he could.

Except for tonight apparently.

Woken up by his internal clock, Peter stared at the ceiling, drumming his fingers against his stomach.

Wade was on a job…. And Sebastian was silent.

That was never a good sign. As a child born of Wade's genes, the six-month-old babbled like no-body's business…. Even when he was asleep, he seemed to babble.

And then he heard something fall in Seb's room.

Instantly, he was up, feet lightly patting along the ground, muscles tense in preparation as he crept through the hallway, towards his son's rooms.

The door was slightly open… and he was so sure that he'd shut it last time he went in there.

"You can do this Peter…" he muttered to himself, "… You're Spiderman. You fight criminals everyday."

Slowly, he opened the door, peering inside… only to realise exactly who was in there.

"- And that's why non-stick pans are the best kiddo. The brains and blood can just be washed right off!"

Peter groaned, "Wade…. Please don't teach the six-month-old how to kill people. And I'm pretty sure you can wash blood and stuff off of normal pans as well."

"Really…. Well, it's not as if the author did any research, so I'll take your word for it."

Groaning again, Peter shook his head… but he couldn't help but smile. He'd missed Wades peculiar sense of humour… and the way he'd refer to someone known as the 'author'.

"I thought you weren't going to be back for another few days?" he then asked, moving further into the room, wrapping one arm around Wade's shoulders as the other hand went to brush over Seb's head, "Japanese gangs and all that…. Coulson seemed to think it would be difficult."

"Coulson would have done it with one arm tied behind his back, it was that easy!" Wade giggled, making a finger gun and blowing on it, "Easy Peasy lemon squeezie!"

Seb couldn't help but join in with the giggling, clapping his hands together eagerly.

"Wade please…" Peter sighed, tired despite the fond smile on his face, "…. Don't get him all worked up. I'd like at least another four hours sleep before he has to get up."

"…. But I wasn't planning on going to sleep…. I wasn't planning on either of us going to sleep."

The finger gesture Wade then made was very different.

"Not in front of the baby!"

"He can't copy me!"

Sebastian just kept giggling.

"Please Wade…" Peter practically begged, "… just help me get Seb back to sleep and then we can go to bed. To sleep!"

"Party-pooper."

Before Peter could say anything, Wade turned to Seb, making the finger gun suggestion again, aiming it at the baby before quietly whispering "bang".

As if he'd actually been pushed, Seb fell back against his soft blanket, giggling and staring up at the pair.

"There!" Wade exclaimed, "He'll be asleep in minutes!"

"… Have you taught our son to play dead… like a dog?"

"Well you shout at me if I say yes?"

"Wade!"

…..

Despite Wades' unorthodox methods, Seb did go to sleep very quickly, giving the pair a chance to get some sleep before the six-month-old demanded food and attention.

Once again, Peter's body alarm clock woke him up before any screaming baby could.

In fact, he was given almost an hour lie in…. and Wade was no longer lying beside him.

"Wade?"

Slowly he pushed himself into a seated position…. only to hear clanking coming from the kitchen, pots and pans banging together.

"Oh god no…."

Wade was not the cleanest of cooks.

"… no, no, no." Peter practically leapt out of bed, racing into the kitchen, stopping in his tracks when he saw Wade gently feeding the baby a strange-smelling green mush.

"Wade…" he slowly began, "… please tell me that's pea…. Cucumber… apple?"

"Pickle!"

Sometimes, Peter felt like he'd aged about ten years when he talked to Wade.

"Pickles? Please tell me you're joking."

"No… pickles are amazing!"

"Not for babies!" Peter rushed over, grabbing the bowl, "There's too much salt in them Wade, didn't you read the food for babies book that Coulson got us? The one that was on the table?"

"…. The one that I used for kindling?"

"Wade!" Peter groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, "Just… find some apple mush for him whilst I… disinfect this bowl." A sudden thought then occurred to him, "Wade… where did you even get pickles."

Before Wade could answer, Peter spotted the empty McDonalds wrappers all over the kitchen.

"WADE!"