Chapter 27: Steve Rogers III

"No one is here."

"We understand that," Tony said for the third time since they arrived outside a Queen's apartment complex.

It wasn't exactly a picturesque neighborhood. A bit on the grittier side. Nearby bodegas each had their group loitering outside, laughing and blasting music a bit too loud. Children were seen waddling on the sidewalks, not too far from their mothers while the streets were stuffed with old cars, dent up and duck-taped together. Still, it was homely enough that Steve didn't feel threatened or even gawked at as he walked into the complex with old ac units still hanging out windows despite the colder temperatures.

The landlord or building super led them out of the elevator and down the corridor. "No one came," he continued to say to Tony. He was smaller than Tony, bald and a bit round in the belly area. His dark skin glittered under the passing lights. He had a ring of keys. Too many that Steve wondered how he could remember which key went to which apartment.

The landlord kept going. "I know. Cops took apartment. No access."

Steve could feel Tony's frustration with the landlord. "Yeah, we know that the government seized the apartment and all the belongings. We know," he said, annoyed. "We only want to check something out."

The landlord's eyes squinted at him. "All gone. Everything."

"I know," Tony said, exasperated and turned to Steve. "You give it a go, Rogers."

Steve walked beside the landlord. "Sir? We appreciate that you are letting us into the apartment and we hope we don't take too much of your time, but this is a delicate matter," he explained, speaking slowly and a lot calmer than Tony. "We can't discuss it, but we do need to check out the apartment. If only for a second."

The landlord looked blankly at Steve. "No one came. I know. I have only keys now."

Steve sighed, shrugging to Tony. Nothing they said would help the landlord understand what they were expecting to find without revealing that Peter may have snuck into the apartment. No need to alert the public that Peter is out and about on his own.

The landlord got to the door and, magically, produced a single key out of the entire chain. It fit into the lock and in one twist, the door opened. "No one been… light is on?"

Tony stopped the landlord from walking further into the apartment. "That's okay," he said, gently pulling the landlord out of the way. "We'll take it from here."

Steve watched Tony slip the man what appeared to be a few hundreds into his hand. Tony then patted the guy's back as he pushed him down the corridor, away from the door.

The landlord's eyes enlarged at the sight of the money in his hand. He understood and quietly walked away to let them be.

Tony went through the door first and Steve followed, quietly closing the door and locking to ensure no one bothered them. The apartment was bare. Nothing was left as the government raided and removed everything that was or wasn't nailed to the floor. There were a few scoff marks on the floors and walls, signs that life once prevailed here. In either happier times or in bad times.

Tony hurried into the apartment, not even acknowledging the emptiness of the apartment. He went around the wall, passing what Steve assumed was the kitchen. Titled floors, broken cabinets, but stove and refrigerator gone.

Eventually, Tony heed to a halt right at the entrance of an open space ahead. "Jesus Christ…"

Steve picked up his pace and arrived right behind Tony, looking over his head to see the open room was not as empty at the rest of the house. Sitting on the floor, back against a wall, was Peter.

Peter didn't show any surprise at their arrival. Only a mere glance. "You found me," he said dropping his head back and releasing a tired sigh. "Go ahead… say it."

Steve looked on with kindness. He had no intention to scold the boy. "There's nothing—"

"What were you thinking?" Tony reproached, stepping in what must have been the living room. "Running off like that? It was stupid."

Peter didn't say a word, but Steve noticed that one of the veins in his neck bulged a bit. Obviously, Peter was not enjoying the sudden, scathing scold from Stark.

Tony vented away, his visages of fear throttling his voice as he kept going at the kid. "You were supposed to go home."

"I did go home!" Peter yelled. "I grew up in this apartment. I built my first rocket in that kitchen! I recited my first lines of a play in this living room." The kid kept jabbing his finger in each direction of the apartment before he shouted, "This is my home!"

"You're home is at the compound. The one where you currently reside. Not this place!" Tony blazed as he angrily flung his hand around the cozy apartment. "Jesus—seriously? You had me worried! Cap worried! Even Happy was breathless on the phone when I told him," he ranted on. "Do you have any idea the stress you gave us with that disappearing act?"

Peter shrugged indifferently. "Probably the same amount of stress I had being holed up there against my will."

Tony's mouth thinned at the sarcastic remark. "Nice, kid," he grumbled. "Way to show your remorse."

Peter narrowed his eyes, glaring up at Tony. "Says the apathetic billionaire who doesn't listen to anyone else because he knows best!"

"I know a lot more than a sixteen year old, that's for damn sure!"

Steve pulled Tony back from Peter and leaned into his ear. "Remember what we talked about?" he whispered. "Understanding… patience…"

"Screw that," Tony bitterly muttered. "He wrung my nerves for—"

Steve pinched his grip into Tony's shoulder. "I'll take it from here then," he decided, walking passed Tony to the kid. "Hey, Peter? Can I sit with you?"

A long pause followed before Peter nodded his permission. Steve thanked him and slowly lowered himself right next to the kid. The kid had grown since the past year, but Steve enhanced body still made him appear daunting over the kid. Not wanting to intimidate Peter, Steve drew his knees up and draped his arms over them. He calmly waited, letting Peter get used to his presence before giving the speech.

Meanwhile, Tony stood in front of them, impatient.

Steve shot him a warning look to not say another word before he turned his full attention to Peter. "We're not mad at you," he began.

Peter's brow flipped up in a doubtful manner in Tony's direction. "Really?"

"Tony?" Steve flickered a glance in Stark's direction. "Oh, he's not mad."

When Peter scrunched his eyes, unconvinced of his words, Steve added his assurance. "It's true," he glanced to Tony. "Right, Stark?"

"Nope," Tony huffed his response in clipped tones. "Kid's right. I'm pissed."

Steve threw an exasperated look to Tony. He should have known Tony would be unhelpful. "Then take a walk and cool off," Steve suggested. "Give us a few minutes."

Tony rolled eyes, but obliged to Steve's whims. He rotated and walked out of the living room, giving Steve time alone with Peter. "So…"

Peter rolled in his lips. "So…" he repeated, but not in a mocking manner.

"You really are from Queens, huh?"

Peter's eye light up in remembrance of their first encounter. "Yeah, I am."

It fell silent again. He sat right beside Peter, neither saying a word to one another. Too lost in their own thoughts or anxieties to say anything.

It took a brief moment, but Steve got the courage to speak again. "I get it," he said to Peter. "Being stuck in one place, unable to be free to do what you want, it's excruciating.

"But you must realize running off like that," Steve continued on, "probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. All things considered."

He didn't need to remind Peter of Tony's near-death experience. It was still on everyone's minds and considering that Tony was about and walking and yelling, it was short to a miracle.

Peter inhaled, but it sounded more like a harsh snuffle. "I wanted out."

"I know."

"You guys wouldn't let me go."

"We're sorry."

Peter went quiet, head hanging in deep reminisce. His face scrunched in resentment. "Tell me the truth," he said. "What's going on?"

If only he could confess it all. Not only did he swear to May Parker that he won't tell Peter about the investigation, he wasn't the right person to explain it to him. That responsibility belong to May alone.

"I wish I can say," Steve said.

The kid sighed. "But, let me guess," Peter bitterly commented, "you can't."

He pushed himself off the floor, pacing in quick strides as the muscles in his face set. "No one tells me anything anymore," he started. "It's all 'Avengers' business', or 'it has nothing to do with you' or it's 'focus on being a kid'."

Steve rose to his feet as well. "I get it," he said. "It's not easy to do nothing when people you care about are in danger."

"It's not only that!" Peter half-shouted. "I…

Footsteps cut Peter off as the boy turned to find Tony re-enter the living room. Nothing changed. His eyes were small and narrowed. His mouth a recalcitrant scowl as he stared down at Peter.

Steve moved across the room to Tony. "I thought you went for a walk?"

"I did. Now, I'm back." Tony crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "So, kid? Lay on the excuses. I can't wait to hear them."

Peter indignantly rolled his eyes. "Why bother? You're not going to listen to me anyway," he grumbled at Tony. "Like you always do."

"Oh don't you dare put that one me," Tony jabbed a finger at the boy. "I always listen. How else would I know when you're lying?"

Peter bristled at the underhand insult. "You only listen to what you wanna hear!"

Steve jumped in between the two of them, hands stretched out to stop them from gaining any ground. "Let's calm down," he ordered, looking at them both. "Do you want the neighbors to overhear?"

Peter recoiled from Steve and stomped away, heading to the window. Steve diverted back to the kid. "Wait—Peter!" he cried, hand outstretched to stop him from leaving.

Peter didn't leave. He stopped at the window, but made no motion to open it. He crossed his arms as well, stubbornly refusing to look at him or Tony. Steve took that moment to address Tony. "Don't raise your voice," he said. "Let me do the talking."

"Oh, sure, because you know how to handle a sixteen year old," Tony remarked. "This isn't a PSA situation."

"Tony—"

"You see!" Peter interrupted, shooting a hand in Tony's direction. "He thinks he knows best."

"Don't start—"

"More life experiences make me know what's best," Tony retorted over Steve's shoulder.

Steve pushed Tony back. "Stop—"

"And my life experiences don't?" Peter returned with the same fire. "I've had my fair share of—"

"You're still a child!" Tony shouted. "You haven't even—"

"Stop saying that! Stop saying I'm a kid!"

"You are a kid! That's fact!"

"I—"

Steve could no longer take the frivolous bickering between the two of them. He found it annoyingly outrageous that these two, similar in ways that would make strangers think twice if they were blood-related, kept up a fight that only circled. There would be no winners or losers. But, neither of them noticed.

So, Steve had to force it upon them. He planted himself firmly between the two. "Everyone!" he bellowed over their words. "Be quiet!"

He shoved them away from each other, but kept a grip on Peter's forearm to ensure he would not sprint off. Tony backtracked, stumbling a little from the force of the shove, but he kept upright.

Tony swung his glasses off. "What the hell, Rogers?"

"Stop it," Steve commanded to Tony and Peter. "Both of you."

"But he—" Peter began, but Steve shook the kid's arm.

"No," Steve said. "No more fighting. No more yelling. We are civilized people in a civilized world." He glanced at the both of them. "At least try to have a diplomatic discussion without resulting into a shouting match. Is that fair?"

Tony rolled his eyes, scoffing as if Steve was the ridiculous one in the group. Peter reacted differently. He looked ashamed by his behavior, dropping his head and looking away with tinged cheeks. He mumbled an apology, but Steve didn't care for an apology. He only wanted to talk.

Steve was happy to get them to a simmer. "Let's go back to talking," he decided. "Peter—we aren't trying to dismiss you."

Peter crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Yeah. Sure."

"I get it. It's not fun being kept up in one place for a very long time," Steve related to the kid. "We didn't mean to make you feel 'trapped'. We are trying to protect you."

"Why?"

"Why?" Tony confounded, aghast the kid even dared to question their reasons. "Look out the window, kid," He pointed to the window where one could see parts of the Manhattan skyline. "It's dangerous out there."

"What's so dangerous about seeing a movie with a friend?" Peter challenged.

"Do I really need to remind you that you were kidnapped outside your friend's house?"

"That wasn't—"

"Seeing a movie with your friend is not dangerous, Peter," Steve interrupted to prevent another argument between the two. "With the kidnappings and Tony getting shot, we've been a little cautious in letting anyone leave on their own."

"But more so with me," Peter pointed out.

Steve nodded. "Yes, but that's because you're a—no, Peter, don't argue—you are a kid. No matter how strong or durable you are," he said as Peter groaned at the constant excuse given to him, "you're still a kid. That's why we are protective of you."

"I get that, but Ross is in custody," Peter said. "What can he do to me?"

Steve and Tony shared a grave look. It wasn't former Secretary Ross they were concerned about. There was Osborn. There was Deadpool. There could even be more assassins or mercenaries after Peter, but be unaware of at the current moment.

Peter noted their somber silence and took a breath. "Is it Deadpool?" he questioned. There was a pure look of fear in Peter's eyes. The kid looked from Steve to Tony. "It's him, isn't? What does he want?"

Tony groaned, fingers kneading his forehead at the difficulty of where the conversation turned to. He sighed heavily, moving again to release the stress from his jumbled nerves.

Steve stayed put, left to answer Peter's inquires. "Don't worry about Deadpool," he said to the boy. "He's not your concern."

"If he's after me…"

"He's not after you."

"Then why did he shoot Tony?"

"He didn't shoot me," Tony answered to Peter's concern. "Deadpool has nothing to do with my—wait!"

Tony stopped. His eyes laser focused on Peter. "How do you know about Deadpool's involvement with my assassination attempt?"

Steve cocked up his eyebrows, suddenly curious too. He darted a look to Peter, who squirmed underneath their inquisitive gazes. Peter wrapped his arms around his torso. He draw his chin down, eyes avoiding their gazes.

Tony took a single step toward Peter. "Kid… you better start talking."

"I guessed," Peter replied.

It was a lie. Steve knew it. So did Tony. "Son of a bitch," Tony uttered in dawning realization. "You've been eavesdropping."

Peter backed away, but his eyes never once raised up from the floor.

"That shouldn't be possible," Tony continued on and he was right. The meeting room they all went to discuss the investigation was sound proof. Whatever they said could not be heard outside the walls. "That room is sound-proof. You can't hear a word we say in there unless… son of a bitch."

The kid looked up. Tony shook his head. A little, impish smile appeared as he figured out Peter's set-up. Tony brushed a hand down his jawline. "That little princess... she's the one who helped you, right?" Tony directed it to Peter, but didn't give time for Peter to confirm it. "Yeah. I bet it was her. So, you had her set up a listening device inside? That's smart, kid."

Tony casually crossed his arms. "Where? On the desk? Chair? Inside the coffee kettle?"

Peter scrunched his mouth. "She tucked it into your monitor," he answered. "The one you wore the first two days."

Tony sighed and shook his head again. "Of course she did," he muttered. "Right. Going to need to destroy that." He uncrossed his arms, walking back to where Steve stood. "You wanna take this one?"

Natural of Tony to throw him the hard task of scolding Peter for his invasiveness on Avengers' business. Tony never liked being seen as the "bad guy". He shoved the burden onto Steve, making him be the "bad guy".

Steve took a moment to think of his words carefully. As Tony pointed out earlier, he doesn't have kids and wouldn't know how to handle him. But, he was going to have to try.

"Son—I mean, Peter," Steve quickly corrected after remembering Peter's last reaction to it. "Eavesdropping on private matters is unacceptable. Especially on top secret matters regarding Avengers' issues."

"You mean issues about me?" Peter jabbed a finger at his own chest. "I heard Tony talking to the colonel about Deadpool's involvement with the assassination and how you guys fear that he may come after me next and…"

"He won't come after you."

"You don't know that!" Peter shouted, his voice cracked as it rose to a frantic crescendo. "He kidnapped me once before! He may try again!"

Hysteria peaked in his tone. The old fear buried Peter, the boy reminiscing of the traumatic past. Tears glossed his strained eyes as he nibbled on the tips of his fingernails.

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. It was a lot harder to hide the truth from Peter than he expected. Especially when the kid was in full panic. Perhaps, they should tell him the truth. Something to keep the boy from breaking down.

"Tony?" Steve called to Stark. "Maybe we should—"

"Don't even suggest it," Tony snapped at him. "Absolutely not!"

"It'll help explain—"

"Nope," Tony shook his head as he took one long stride to stand right in Steve's face. "We already discussed this. He's not to be involved."

"Too late for that," Peter chimed in to which earned him a growl from Tony.

"What did your aunt say about eavesdropping, kid?"

Peter walked up to them, ignoring Tony. "It's true though, isn't it?" he said. "What you guys are investigating. It's about me. Or something with me. Something about me, Deadpool, Tombstone and… and Ross."

"Kid—" Tony interjected, but Peter talked over him.

"Don't lie to me. Please don't lie to me anymore," Peter begged, tears squeezing out from the corners of his eyes. "Just tell me what's going on?"

Steve helplessly stared into Peter's eyes. He understood Peter's irritation and desperation. To be kept in the dark, to hear rumors around him, and to be watched on a constant basis limits ones freedom to the point of extinction. Peter wanted the truth. Some kind of truth to help him understand the controversy that surrounded him and made his choices.

"All right," Steve decided. "I'll tell you."

Tony shot a dangerous look at him. "Rogers—"

"He deserves to know," Steve argued on Peter's behalf. He turned back to Peter. "We've been investigating Ross's involvement with your kidnapping."

Tony cursed, abruptly spinning away from Steve as he continued his pacing with astonished disbelief in what Steve committed. Peter blinked. His eyebrows bunched together almost in reservation.

"That doesn't make sense though," Peter said. "Why would Deadpool shoot Tony? He was mad at Ross. It doesn't make—"

"That crazy freak didn't do anything," Tony grumbled.

Steve frowned at Tony, but returned to Peter. "Despite what you overheard, Deadpool didn't have anything to do with Tony's assassination attempt," he said. "He… you know? Don't worry about him. He's not involved."

"He kidnapped me."

They were well aware of that wretched night. "That is true, but he's not a threat," Steve conceded. "We made sure of it."

"But—"

"Forget Deadpool, kid," Tony cut in. "He's nobody important."

Peter pressed his lips together and he looked to Steve for anything, but Steve nodded to Tony's assessment. No need to get Peter worked up over a mercenary that may or may not harm him. In either case, it won't happened. Steve wouldn't let Deadpool come near him.

"Deadpool isn't a worry, Peter," Steve assured him. "What you need to know is that we've been investigating the kidnapping."

"And…" Peter peered up at Steve, hoping to garner more information.

"And… that's it," Steve concluded, not wishing to divulge the rest of the Avengers' mission. Peter had enough to understand their reasoning for keeping an eye on him. No need to work him over with thoughts about Osborn and the death of his parents. That was not Steve's responsibility.

Peter quizzically stared up at him, the curiosity fading to disappointment. "That's it?"

"There's nothing else to say."

Peter didn't look convinced. "There has to be more."

"He already told you more than he should, kid," Tony said. "Hell—he wasn't even supposed to tell you anything."

"Why not?" Peter asked with a pout. "Why is it a secret at all? I was there for the kidnapping."

"You weren't told because you're a kid."

Peter once again prickled at what he viewed as a snub. Fury was upon him, ready to cry out his hurt, but Steve cut him off. "Your aunt asked us not to get you involved."

Peter snapped his attention to Steve. "What?"

"She doesn't want you to get involved in… this," Steve gestured between him and Tony. "After the incident with Ross and then the whole kidnapping, she doesn't want you inducted into that world yet. She wants you to be a kid and I agree."

Steve approached Peter. He may no longer look like the wiry, bright-eyed boy Steve met a year ago, but Peter Parker was still a boy to someone like Steve. His tragedies and horrors did not equivalent him to an adult, although most adults in the world never had to go through what Peter experienced. So when May Parker requested to keep their investigation under wraps and away from Peter, Steve honored her request. Peter deserved to be a kid, to live his life amongst the innocence as much as possible.

"You know, I never had much of a chance to be a, um, kid," Steve started as he thought back to his own childhood. "I grew up in the Great Depression. Not much to do then. My father was dead. My mother worked, but it was never enough. I was a sickly kid. Didn't have much of friends except Bucky. And then, when I turned eighteen, World War II started in Europe and we followed shortly after. And… well, you know how that story played out."

Peter nodded.

"Poverty, illness and war kept me from childhood," Steve continued. "A lot of kids from my generation would tell you that they never had childhoods." He then nudged his head in Tony's direction. "And Stark? I'm sure you heard bits of his rantings about his own childhood."

Peter looked passed Steve to Tony. The little crease between his furrowed brows proved to Steve that Peter recalled some comments about Tony's past. After all, Tony often talked about his horrible childhood due to his father's cold, dismissive demeanor toward him.

"Then there's Nat," Steve said to draw Peter back to him. "I doubt she told you much about her background. She grew up in a place called the Red Room."

He watched Peter titled his head, curiosity flowing back into his eyes. "What's the Red Room?"

"It's where the Soviet Union trained girls at a young age to become assassins," Steve explained. "They are effectively brainwashed into being agents. They receive grueling training to the point that, upon graduation, they killed one of their own peers."

Peter's mouth dropped open as he gasped. "What?"

Steve nodded. "Nat's childhood was spent learning how to fight, torture and kill," he said as Peter sucked in a breath of chilled horror. He looked aghast. "What happened to her there still haunts her today. She doesn't like to talk about it and probably will never tell anyone what really happened to her while she grew up in such conditions."

"Does it still exist?"

"What? The Red Room?" Steve asked, to which Peter nodded. He had to think. "I'm not sure. Again, Nat doesn't talk about it. Don't know if it still exists or not."

Peter's face went rigid, his mouth a thin line of displeasure. He was not happy, but that was what Steve wanted him to understand. "Look, Peter," he said, taking the boy's shoulder. "What I want you to understand is that… we all never got the chance to be a kid. I didn't. Tony didn't. Nat didn't. Even Clint, though, he's never talked much about his background either. I think he mentioned running away from home when he was young. Stark? Do you remember—"

"What good, old Cap is trying to say is kid," Tony took over for lecture, stepping up next to Steve, but mostly in front of Peter to get the kid's undivided attention, "is that we kept it a secret from you because we want you to be a kid. None of us ever got the chance to enjoy things like being on an academic team or going to the movies with friends on a Friday night. Or even be around kids our own age without having to pick a fight. Hell—I had no friends, which was why I built Dum-E and U."

"Don't be in a hurry to grow up, Peter," Steve slid back into the conversation he started. "Be young. Go fishing or head to Coney Island. Have fun with friends."

"Do stupid shit that you can get away with as a kid," Tony added on, which Steve immediately dissent.

"Don't listen to Tony," Steve told Peter. "All we tried to do was make sure you got the chance to have that the rest of us couldn't. Be a teenager. Stress over homework."

"Or take a girl out on a date," Tony hinted.

"Be on a team with kids your own age."

"Binge on Netflix and crap."

"The point we are making is that you deserve to have a relatively normal life," Steve ended their list and he took a deep breath as he studied Peter's face. "You're going to be a good hero, Peter. I can tell already. Hell, you'll be the best one. Until then, be a kid. Enjoy it. For all of us."

Peter didn't say a word. He walked back and Steve's hand slid off the boy's shoulders. It was tense, watching Peter move further and further away from them in reflected silence. He and Tony shared a fearful look and Steve prayed that the kid accepted their reasoning. Not that it wasn't the truth. They truly wanted him to be a kid and not an Avenger quite yet. Still, Peter's noted silence put them a little on edge as to whether Peter accepted that explanation for the secrecy and over-protectiveness.

After a long moment, Peter turned back to them. "If that's true," he said making Steve's heart plummet for a split second, "then why can't I go out with my friends? Why can't I do normal 'kid things' without having a bodyguard clipping my heel?"

"That's our fault," Steve answered before Tony could. "Ever since you got kidnapped by Bullseye and then Deadpool, along with the whole situation regarding Ross… we worried. We thought someone else may try to hurt you and… anyway, we may have gone a bit overboard."

"You think?" Peter remarked.

"Look, kid, you weren't there when you suddenly disappeared on us," Tony interjected. "It was a frenzy! I never even seen Happy that out of breath as he ran around in frantic. So, yeah, we put up the necessary guard and protocols to keep you safe once we got you back. I have no regrets on that. It kept you safe."

"But—" Steve cut in, holding his hand up to stop Tony from interrupting him. "Maybe we can roll back on some of the restrictions? Let him go out with his friends. Or have a weekend out into the city? I don't know. Something like that."

Peter stood straighter. His eyes bounced from Steve to Tony. "Really?" he asked, hopeful. "A-Are you serious?"

"Sure," Steve answered with a shrug. "I don't see why we can't let you go out with friends for a night by yourself. What about you, Stark?"

Tony looked a little uneasy about the prospect. The assassination was still in the forefront of everyone's mind and Steve knew Tony didn't like the idea at all. It left Peter vulnerable to Osborn, but not if they do it right. Steve trusted Peter to make good choices and know when to act and when to call for back-up. He had faith in the kid. He needed Stark to have that same faith as well.

Tony heaved a sigh and swung his glasses back off his face. "I have a million reasons, but I'll make an exception for you, short stuff."

Peter stayed diffident, contemplating if they were telling him the truth. "You're being serious?" he asked for clarification, his voice tinged with excited anticipation. "You… you're really going to… I can go out on my own? Like without you or Nat or Happy?"

"Obviously there are a few conditions," Tony said, wanting to make it clear it wasn't a free-for-all for the kid. He pocketed his sunglasses. "Why? Do you have an idea in mind already, kid?"

Peter thought. "Actually, I do."

"Name it."

Peter looked between Tony and Steve. "Well, before I ask, I need a favor first."

Tony arched a brow, flickering a glance to Steve in concern. "Oookay," he said, tentatively. "What favor? It's not something I'm going to regret later, right?"

"No," Peter shook his head. "It's um… it's quite embarrassingly really."

"Just spit it out then," Tony advised, now curious as to what the kid wanted. Even Steve waited with anticipation.

Peter took a deep breath. "Can you teach me how to dance?"