A/N: Happy New Year, everyone!
Also, something I learned while on the Marvel Database: There actually is a Spiderpig in Marvel, Spider-Ham. Uh, wow, Marvel writers. There is also Ducktor Doom, Nick Furry, Hulk Bunny, and... Captain Americat.
Saturday mornings in Stark Tower were a lot different from every other morning of the week. No one was rushing to go anywhere, Clint didn't argue with the microwave (the microwave had decided that Saturday was a good day to be civil to the archer, for some reason), Steve cooked breakfast (he was actually a great cook, but it had been decided that he could only cook on Saturdays or they'd all be addicted to his pancakes and get fat), and Tony would usually be nursing a hangover.
Usually, but not today. Today, the tiny four-year-old version of Peter's father sat at the breakfast table in the Captain America jammies that Natasha had gotten him, which he'd protested against of course, but had shut up with one look from the assassin, kicking his short legs in his chair and eating Steve's pancakes, which were arranged to look like Mickey Mouse.
"You do realize that I'm not actually four, right, Stebe?" Tony had asked, quirking a tiny eyebrow. He had long given up on trying to correct his mispronunciation, as he vaguely remembered having trouble with v's and sh's as an actual four-year-old.
Steve just chuckled in response and ruffled the boy's hair. "Just eat your pancakes, Tony."
The child flushed and scowled a bit, but silently ate his breakfast.
"... And in other news, a bank robbery at First National on 7th Avenue was stopped last night by a masked vigilante. This unknown hero was seen swinging on a web-like structure, using the same compound to trap the robbers in a net. When asked who he was, the web-slinging hero called himself 'your friendly neighborhood Spiderman'."
Peter nearly choked on his flapjacks, causing everyone to stare at him while he coughed erratically.
"Um... you okay, Pee-tah?" Tony asked, looking concerned.
E-Er, yeah, I'm fine, just... just swallowed wrong, that's all!" The teen lied when he regained his breath.
His miniaturized father stared at him for a moment, looking doubtful, then shrugged and turned in the direction of the TV. "So, Spiderman, huh? That's a pretty cool name. Costume could use some work, though."
Peter gaped at his father. "Wh-What? What's wrong with his costume?"
"Well, for one thing, spandex? Really?"
"What's wrong with spandex?" Steve asked, somewhat hurt by the perceived insult to his own uniform.
"Nothing, on a guy like you. Spandex works for you. On a scrawny kid like that, though? Spandex is not at all flattering."
While Steve blushed at the ambiguity of 'Spandex works for you', Peter scowled, bringing his empty plate to the sink and grabbing his backpack.
"Hey, where are you going?"
"Library!"
"Okay! Don't hire any prostitutes or buy any drugs!"
"... You know, most of the things you've said this morning sound really disturbing coming out of a four-year-old's mouth!" Peter commented as the elevator door shut, heading not for the ground floor, but for the roof. He decided that if he wanted to impress anyone, he needed to start practicing his heroics. Donning his suit, the now-masked web-slinger took a running start off the building, using his webs to latch on to the nearest building and swing away from his home.
'Scrawny kid'? Gee, thanks, Dad; that really helps my self-esteem.
He flipped in the air, letting himself get closer to the ground before shooting another web.
I mean, yeah, its not like he knows about the whole web-slinging thing, but would it kill him to be a little more sensitive?
"Hey, it's Spiderman!" Peter heard someone in the streets below shout. A cheer rose up from the people below, surprising the masked hero.
Huh. Guess a lot of people must have seen that news report. He swung a bit closer to the ground, catching sight of a few newspapers on the stand. Most of them featured a full-color photograph of him, with headlines that could either be boiled down to 'Who is Spiderman?' or 'Masked Web-slinger stops bank heist'. Or the newspaper industry isn't as dead as I thought.
Giving a brief wave to the crowd that had formed behind him, Peter shot another line and hopped onto a tall building, taking in the view of New York city.
You know... there are a lot of superheroes who go up against the big bad supervillains like Loki or that Doctor Doom guy, but you don't see a lot of superheroes going up against thieves or muggers around here. Dad and the others may be more concerned with the safety of the world at large, but what about good ol' NYC? What about all the people who live here?
Peter glanced over at Central Park briefly. Even from this height, he could see people running about the giant area, looking like ants from Peter's viewpoint. Every one of those ants had a life, a family, had dreams.
Peter looked down at his gloved hand and balled it into a fist.
The world needs Iron Man. But maybe New York can settle for Spiderman.
Meanwhile, back at the tower, a fight had broken out amongst two members of the team. At the moment, Natasha and Tony were having what looked to be a contest to see who could glare at the other longer, whilst the rest of the team looked on nervously.
"Tony," Natasha began, her voice steady but laced with explicit frustration bordering on anger, "Please put on the hat so we can go to the park."
The four-year-old crossed his arms, scowling stubbornly. "No. I refuse to wear something as tacky and silly as that hat."
"Tony, I don't know if you've noticed, but you're wearing a Captain America T-Shirt. What difference does the hat make?" Clint asked, trying to move things along (secretly he wanted to go to the park himself).
"IT'S A FROG HAT!" Tony shouted, stomping his foot in frustration. "I'm not wearing a stupid frog hat in public, Natatha!"
"It's adorable. Tony, I'm not going to ask you again. You can either put on the hat of your own volition, or I can force you to put on the hat."
The child simply glared in response. Natasha sighed, standing up. "Okay, I warned you. Clint? Grab him."
The archer looked surprised at the order, but since he knew how stubborn his partner could be, he decided not to argue with her and grabbed the four-year-old, who struggled and squirmed in Clint's grip.
"H-HEY! Clint, you stupid motherfu-!"
Natasha cut off the little boy's curse by pulling the leaf-green hat over his eyes, temporarily confusing him.
"What the-?!" Tony quickly pushed up the hat, considering taking it off and throwing it to the ground, but ultimately deciding that one, this argument had become utterly tedious, and two, he really wanted to go see the polar bears at the Central Park Zoo.
"When I get my adult body back, you're all gonna be regretting eber forcing me to wear this stupid hat."
"Oh, hush, you look so cute, don't ruin it by talking." Bruce teased, tapping the child's nose lightly.
Tony huffed and extended his tiny middle finger. "Fuck you, Banner."
"If you weren't so adorable, Stark, I might be offended." Bruce replied with a laugh.
"Tony, don't press up against the glass, you'll irritate the polar bear."
The little brunette scoffed, but did as he was told. "Yes, Mommy." He replied sarcastically, causing Natasha to grimace at him.
Thor looked over at the others, confused. "I do not understand. Why has the child Stark referred to Lady Natasha as his mother? She is much too young to have given birth to him."
Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Thor, it was just a joke- Tony, what did Natasha just say about pressing up against the glass?"
"But I can't seeeee!" The boy whined. He pressed against the glass harder just to spite them.
Steve chuckled and picked the boy up.
"H-Hey! Stebe, just what is it that you think you're doing?!"
"Giving you a boost so you can see." He replied, placing Tony on his shoulders.
"Gibing me a- oh, I see what you mean."
Though he would never say it aloud, Tony was secretly glad that Steve had been the one to help him out (though he did note that he'd have a better view on Thor's shoulders). If he had actually been the kid he was at four, he'd probably be shrieking with delight at getting to sit on Captain America's shoulders, and even now he felt just a tiny urge to scream. Thankfully, he still had his adult mind, and therefore he still retained the (admittedly very view) inhibitions that he had.
"Oh, isn't that just precious!" Someone said behind them. Steve turned around to see a pretty blonde woman holding the hand of a tiny girl who looked to be about Tony's age.
"Father and Son bonding day?" She asked, smiling brightly.
"O-Oh, no, ma'am, he isn't-"
"Yeah! We're habing a great time, aren't we, Daddy?" Tony interrupted. He grinned slyly. Even as a little kid, teasing Steve was irresistibly fun.
"Wha- Tony!" The blonde hissed, looking up at the boy.
The woman giggled. "Aw, how cute! I'm here with my granny and my daughter as well! Wait... Granny?" She looked over and sighed. "GRANNY! STOP FEEDING THE PIGEONS, YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE THEY'VE BEEN!"
A moment later, an older woman stomped over, giving her granddaughter a light smack on the back of the head. "Show some respect, child! I didn't raise your father to raise you without a sense of respect for your elders!" She scolded in a thick British accent.
That... that voice, Steve thought, eyes widening. "M-Ma'am?"
The elderly woman looked over at him, at first scowling, but then in shock with her own eyes wide. "Y... You're..." She took a deep breath. "S-Steve? Steve Rogers, is that you?"
"Peggy..." Steve said breathlessly, not quite sure if this was actually real or just another dream.
Peggy Carter had aged well. Even at what had to be at least ninety years old, she was still very much a beauty, even with the wrinkles, the granny glasses, and the tightly pulled back grey hair, though Steve admitted to himself that he was looking at her with the eyes of someone looking at their first love. Still, even in her twilight years, Peggy still resembled that tough-as-nails agent from the forties, at least to Steve.
No one said anything for a moment, before Tony, who for some reason had a weird feeling in his gut, piped up. "Uh... is anybody else really confused here?"
The little girl, who had been silent most of the time and hid behind her mother's legs, raised her hand. "U-Um... I am! Great-Granny, who ith thith guy?" She asked, lisping even more than Tony.
The older woman turned to her great-grandchild. "Oh, of course! Where are my manners? Sharon, Amelia, this is Steve Rogers, or as I suppose you would know him, Captain America."
Both Sharon and Amelia's eyes widened. "W-Wait, you mean the Captain America?! The one that you worked with?! Granny, why didn't you tell us this earlier?!"
"Well, goodness, love, I'm ninety-three years old! You can't really expect me to remember every single detail, can you?"
While the two women argued, Amelia simply gaped in awe at the hero. Tony noticed this, and though he admitted it was a childish move, he stuck his tongue out at her, not quite sure why he did so.
After a moment, the argument ended, and Peggy turned back to Steve, smiling warmly.
"Well, then, Steve, since it's been so long," Steve flinched in guilt at that, "Would you like to take a walk with me and catch up? For old time's sake?"
Without hesitation, the super-soldier nodded, taking Tony off his shoulders and placing him gently on the ground.
"H-Hey! Stebe, what about the rest of the zoo?!"
But the blonde didn't answer him, already too engrossed in a conversation with his first love to hear the child's question. As Tony watched the pair walk away, the churning in his stomach grew, and he groaned a bit.
"Tony? Are you okay?" Natasha asked, suddenly concerned. Child-Tony may have been a total brat, but Sick-Tony was a right whiny bitch, and she did not want to experience Sick-Child-Tony if she could avoid it.
"My tummy hurts," he announced, walking over and tugging on Clint's pants. "Can we just go home, please?"
"But what about the monkeys? You were so excited about those!" The archer said, kneeling to look Tony in the eye.
The child fell into his arms and moaned in response. "I don't care about the monkeys anymore. I just wanna go home and take a nap." For once, he sounded his age.
Clint sighed as he picked him up. "Alright, we'll go." He looked over at the mother and daughter. "Hey, if you see Steve, can you tell him Tony didn't feel well so we went home?"
Sharon nodded, still a bit awestruck from what had just happened.
"Thanks a lot." With that, the group headed for the zoo's exit.
"... Mommy? I don't think that boy wath really Mr. Captain America'th thon."
Sharon sighed. "Neither do I, baby."
Peter swung into his open bedroom window, groaning as he peeled the mask off. In one afternoon, the teen had stopped five muggings, two robberies, another bank heist, and led the police to a drug deal. Suffice to say, the web-slinger was exhausted.
"Who'd have thought there could be so much crime occurring in the same afternoon?" Peter muttered as he fell onto his bed, feeling as though he could sleep for a thousand years and still be tired. He could feel himself dropping off, feel his mind and body slip into blissful unconsciousness...
Knock-knock. "Peter? Are you in there?"
The teen bolted upright in bed at the sound of Bruce's voice, then looked down at his still spider-suit clad self. Shit!
"U-Uh, yeah, just... give me a second!"
Quickly as possible, Peter scrambled for his backpack, opening it and pulling out the street clothes he'd stored in it while simultaneously tearing off the shirt part of his costume.
Another knock. "Is everything okay in there?"
"Y-Yeah, just... just a minute!" He yelled as he pulled on his pants.
"... Peter, are... are you doing what I think you're doing in there?" The scientist asked carefully.
The teen paused in the middle of putting on his shirt, scrunching up his face in contemplation. When he realized what Bruce thought he was doing, Peter's eyes widened and he could feel his cheeks heating up. "Oh, god, gross, Bruce! I'm just studying, geez! I-It's just kind of a mess in here, that's all!"
He could hear Bruce sigh in relief. "Peter, I'm no stranger to messy rooms, so I really don't mind if-"
"W-Well, I do!" Peter yelled as he kicked the spider-suit under his bed. Sighing, he walked over to the door, opening it for the scientist.
"Yes?" He asked as pleasantly as possible.
Bruce quirked an eyebrow. "Uh... just wanted to ask you what kind of pizza you wanted."
Peter could hardly hold back a breath of relief. "Oh, anything is fine with me."
Bruce smiled. "Alright. Oh, and by the way, your costume isn't all the way under your bed, Spiderman."
Peter's heart, stomach, and smile and dropped simultaneously. "I-I-I... I, uh, Spiderman? I'm sure you're mistaken, Doc."
The scientist scoffed. "Oh, cut the crap, Peter. Seriously, a spider-themed hero appears less than a week after you develop spider-powers? How gullible do you think I am?"
The teen looked down, trying to keep from hyperventilating. "... P... Please don't tell Dad. He'll ground me until I'm his age if he finds out about this!"
"And he'd have good reason to. But I'm not going to tell him."
Peter looked up, his eyes shocked and hopeful. "Wh-What!? Really? You promise?"
Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, Peter, I've been watching the news, and Spiderman... Spiderman is making a huge impact on people, for better or for worse. In this day and age, people need all the heroes they can get, whether they're billionaires like Tony," he put a hand on the teen's shoulder. "Or a brave, talented kid like you. Just... promise you won't do anything stupid, okay?"
Peter nodded enthusiastically. "Thanks, Bruce. I owe you one!"
"Yeah you do."
"...and that's when I realized that John had been hiding in the clothes rack the entire time!"
Steve laughed heartily at the story. Peggy had so many wonderful tales to tell from the seventy years he hadn't seen her. She had married, had children, watched them grow up, watched them marry and have kids of their own, grown old with the man she had married (his name had been Lucas), and now, her grandchildren had children.
In short, she'd lived a full life. A life without Steve, a life of her own.
He was glad about that, he realized. Steve couldn't have expected her to waste her life waiting for a man who everyone thought dead, could he? That would have been selfish and an insult to this beautiful, strong woman. No, he was glad that she'd moved on.
"I did miss you, Steve. After... you know." Peggy said suddenly. Steve saw the melancholy in her face, heard it in her voice. If only, it said, making Steve's heart ache in regret.
Suddenly, a familiar song began to play in the cafe where they had settled down to talk. Steve grinned, standing up and offering a hand to the elderly woman.
"Steve, just what are you doing?" She chided.
"I believe I still owe you a dance, ma'am."
Peggy stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. "Oh, Steve, no. I'm... I'm too old, and it's been so long since I last danced with anyone... Besides, you said you don't know how to dance."
Steve kept grinning, pulling her out of her seat gently. "I made a promise, and I intend to keep it."
She stared for another moment, then sighed. "Alright, you silly boy. Put your hand here."
At first, Peggy guided Steve through the steps, but soon enough the blonde took the lead, gently guiding the elderly woman himself.
"... And with the moon up above, it's wonderful... it's wonderful... so they tell me... I can't recall who said it... I know, I've never read it, I only know they tell me that love is wonderful..."
All around him, there was gunfire. People screaming in sheer agony. Explosions.
No... no... make it stop, make it stop!
He heard men yelling in a language he couldn't understand. More deafening explosions. More tortured screams.
Then, a few feet away, a missile landed. He looked at it, and couldn't breathe.
Stark Industries, he saw in big letters on the side. Then it exploded, and Tony sat up in bed, screams drowned out by the boom of thunder outside his window.
Just a nightmare... not real...
He breathed erratically, willing himself not to sob like a little child. He may have looked like a four-year-old, but he was a grown-ass man, dammit, and grown-ass men don't cry over stupid little nightmares like that.
Then the sound of thunder filled the room, terrifying him, making the horror seem real again.
Okay, screw being a grown-ass man, I'm four and I want to be comforted.
With some difficulty, the little child got out of his over-sized bed, running out into the hallway before realizing that he didn't remember where Peter's room was at the moment, sleep having clouded his mind.
Dammit, where can I- Oh! ... Well, I don't like it, but I'm too fucking terrified to care.
Tony dashed down the hall, then slowly opened the unfamiliar bedroom's door.
"S... Stebe?" He whispered. No response.
"Stebe?" He asked again, this time in a normal voice.
He heard a snort from the bed. "Wuzzat-? T... Tony?"
Suddenly, the child felt very small. "Um..." He shrunk behind the door a bit.
Steve yawned. "What're," He yawned again. "What're you doing up? It's the middle of the night."
"... I had a nightmare." Tony admitted, flushing sheepishly. "C... Can I sleep in here, please?"
Steve's eyes opened fully, slightly taken aback by just how young and vulnerable Tony sounded. He was sure that Tony had nightmares often enough, they all probably did with how screwed up their lives were, but now that Tony was so young... even if he still mostly had his adult mind, he couldn't handle nightmares like that anymore.
"S... Stebe?" The boy asked quietly, interrupting Steve's train of thought.
The super-soldier sighed, then gestured for him to come in. "Alright, but just for tonight, okay?"
Tony nodded and ran into the room, climbing onto the bed and mumbling a quiet, "Thank you" before lying down.
Steve sighed, turning onto his back. Before long, however, he felt a tiny hand grip his shirt.
"Tony-" Steve started to scold the child, but then he saw his face. Tony looked... afraid, to say the least. Even though Tony had the personality and intelligence he had as an adult, physically he was only a child, and Steve was sure that his mind-set might be a little bit like a child's, which would explain the lisp and the increased whining.
Steve hesitated, then wrapped an arm around the sleepy boy. To Steve's continued surprise, Tony sighed and snuggled close to his chest.
"Night, Stebie." Tony muttered sleepily.
"... Goodnight, Tony."
A/N: I made Tony wear the hat because one, ADORBS 3, and two, it would be hilarious to see him in that silly frog hat.
Also, the song that Peggy and Steve danced to is called 'They Say it's Wonderful'.