Last time Tony Stark had alcohol in bed was the night they decided to adopt Peter.
Steve rolled over on his side, and he watched as Tony filled another glass. "You're going to have to get up for the bathroom again in the middle of the night and wake me up," Steve said softly.
"You're going to sleep?" Tony asked bitterly. He sat on the bed and downed the harsh liquid.
"Tony," Steve said.
"He's going to get himself fucking killed," Tony growled, "Peter's going to kill himself and I just know somehow it is going to be our fault."
"Peter may be young," Steve said as he reached out his arm and placed his fingers over Tony's hand, "but he isn't some sidekick, he's a superhero and he has been for a long time."
"He hates us," Tony said. He struggled to pour a glass one handed, but he kept his hand under Steve's.
"Peter has his reasons for fighting, and we just tossed them aside. Pete's angry, he doesn't hate us," Steve explained, "believe me, I know how Peter feels. He's going to be bitter, and it's going to be rough on him. But he'll get through it, and he'll be better for it."
"Fuck this," Tony snapped. He took another swig.
"No more," Steve ordered. He sat up, crossing the bed, and took the alcohol off of the bedside table.
"Steve," Tony reached for the foul liquid.
"I'm serious." Steve stood up, crossed the room, and placed it underneath the portrait in the safe. "That's it."
Tony groaned. He lay back on the bed and threw one of the pillows over his face. "I told you," Tony blamed as he pointed an accusing finger somewhere near Steve's general direction, "I told you I would make a wretched father and look how great I am! Fucked it up already."
"Well," Steve said on the bed and looked down at Tony, "the cursing and the screaming was perhaps a bit much." He smiled and set his hand down on Tony's chest. "But you were scared. Hell, I'm scared."
"Of course you are." Tony's voice was muffled through the pillow.
"I've been scared this whole time. I was scared since the first day Nick Fury dumped Peter 'temporarily' in our laps," Steve confessed casually, "doesn't mean we aren't doing well as parents. Right now, we have to be the bad guys."
"We're not supposed to be the bad guys, we're supposed to be the good guys, that's the whole goddamned point," Tony Stark protested into the pillow.
Steve sighed. He crawled over Tony's body and into his side of the bed. "I know," he said, lying back and looking at the ceiling. "I don't like it. But I'll do anything to make sure Peter is safe."
"Rsingmasba," Tony slurred into the pillow.
"Hm?"
"I think we should give Peter to Natasha and Clint," Tony said, pulling the pillow reluctantly off of his face. He turned off the light with a snap of his fingers. The battery in his chest provided its own light to see by, and he looked at Steve.
Steve grinned. "A master marksman and a lethal assassin? Oh, yes, I'm sure Peter Stark would be thrilled."
"Fuck," Tony stared at the ceiling. "I forgot. Bambi has my last name."
"It's called commitment, Tony."
"I hate commitment. I miss being a playboy and a free man. No parenting worries, tons of women, no monogamy-" Steve punched Tony lightly in the shoulder. It still hurt. Tony growled and rubbed the bruising appendage. "No super strength..." Tony said, actually missing that part.
"Go to bed, Tony. You need strength to be a villain again in the morning." And Steve wrapped his arms around Tony like Iron Man was a teddy bear.
Tony rolled his eyes, and tried to sleep. When he finally slept, Tony had a nightmare where Peter was torn to shreds.
.
Tony had always had a problem with drinking. When he had invented Iron Man, he'd traded drinking for risking his life on a near-hourly basis. When Iron Man got old, Tony drank again. When Pepper Potts broke it off with him, Tony was piss-ass drunk for weeks.
When Steve came, Tony drank in miniscule amounts on a daily basis; a sip there, a glass at a party, some alcohol to spice up a dinner, a gulp out of sheer boredom.
The week before Tony decided to adopt Peter, he got very, very drunk. Then he stopped, entirely, completely, until the first time he had to make a decision regarding Peter's future. Tony drank when he designed rooms for Peter in his other two houses. He drank when they changed Peter's name. He drank the first time Iron Man, Captain America, and Spiderman fought crime together. He drank the day Peter asked him to drive to the Parker graves. He drank when he saw Peter staring at a girl and worried he'd have to give 'the talk'.
Steve interceded each time, normally somewhere around when Tony made an ass of himself.
.
Peter swung through the air. His stomach burst to the point of pain as he rose and fell, nerves jumping like welcome friends into his ears. Up. Down. Up. Like a child's swing. His webs, fragile, slight pieces of string, held his lithe body in the air. He was a passing shadow, a momentary creature; he was an arachnid.
His fingers touched a wall, the barest tips, and held him fast. A hundred stories below, there were people and there was activity, but it was nothing but emptiness to Peter. He was a predator in the sky. His eyes watched the world, seeing the people going by. If there was a thief, a murderer, a rapist, a thug, a human monster, then he would see it and he would stop them. The enemies were there to feel this Spider, this powerful creature of shadows, and to shake.
The Spider crawled up the building, slowly in his mind but like lightning to the world. His feet scaled the flat surface easily, and his body carried him higher and higher until there was nothing below him. Farther into eternity he went, ethereal, unchallenged. He was Arachnid; he was Creature. He stopped and looked, his eyes scanning the clouds which touched his feet, and he let his webs fly. The Spider held his soft and strong hands, the thread interwoven in his fingers, and he jumped.
And damn that alarm.
.
"Up."
"Hrgh ush, nush, nug," Tony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, muttered and turned over in his drool.
Captain America, in a tan jacket, jeans, and a plaid shirt, poked his lover on the much discussed Stark mustache. "Up. We're going to school."
"Nm auh, eight yrs old," Stark grumbled. He reached, painfully slowly, for the blanket that Rogers had thrown on the floor. "No ugh." He
He pushed his nose into the pillow again.
"For Peter, not you," Steve replied.
"Hate," Tony said when Steve's fingers began to trail up his bare spine. His shirt had somehow pushed itself up to his shoulders in the night, and his pajama pants were now shorts. Tony Stark was a restless sleeper, especially when he had bad dreams. One of the perks of sleeping with Steve was that Steve was too full of super serum to wake up when a slightly drunk, passed out Tony Stark kicked him during the night. Tony, however, woke up too easily. A pigeon cooing, a slight movement from Steve, a computer switching on, a footstep down the stairs, and Tony was awake. Waking up after drinking though, was not so easy.
"Up," the Captain ordered.
"Fuck you," Tony Stark muttered almost unintelligibly. Oh yes, he was waking up and he would now be unable to sleep for at least thirty hours, but he was not happy about it.
"I made muffins and eggs," Captain America said.
"I thought life was sucking."
"Despite my effort to the contrary, I don't think my breakfast efforts will change the fact that Peter is angry at us."
"I'm tired of being a father," Tony found another pillow and placed it over his bed head. "Give him to Natasha and Clint."
"Despite the fact we grounded Spiderman, I don't think Peter actually wants that," Steve said. He sat down on the bed and set his large, muscular hand on the curve of Tony's back. "Come on," he gave Tony a strong, friendly pat. "I called last night and this morning, we have a meeting with Peter's principle and guidance counselor."
"What for?" Tony, reluctantly, turned, but he kept the pillow over his face because he knew he looked like hell and he was too tired to bother trying to seem attractive.
"If Peter is even a fifth as restless as I was then he needs his time occupied," Steve said.
Tony sat up and let the pillow fall onto his lap. He groaned as his body was forced to move so early in the morning. "So, basically, to stop Peter from risking his life as a superhero we are going to make him join the Art Club?"
"Don't phrase it like that."
"Eat me."
"Up."
.
Peter was pissed. He was so pissed. Because he had a wonderful dream about swinging through New York and he was indefinitely grounded.
When Aunt May had grounded him, it had been nothing. Peter could sneak out and in quieter then a mouse. Now, however, there were two superheroes watching over him. Sneaking past Iron Man, Captain America, JARVIS, and the rest of the Avengers? Not as easy as sneaking past an elderly woman.
So he let Steve drive him to school in the Camaro. He even sat in the cramped backseat so Tony, who was wearing the dark sunglasses he only ever wore when he'd been drinking, could sit in the front and use both of the cupholders for relentlessly strong coffee.
Steve had made breakfast, which he apparently spent a long time on. Tony had eaten a lot of it, food helped cure his hangover; that was something Peter wasn't supposed to know. Peter hadn't eaten anything, and he was regretting it but would not give in and ask for the muffin Steve had brought along 'Just in case you get hungry, Sport'.
Peter kicked the seat in front of him. Iron Man turned around and glared somewhere underneath his sunglasses. "What?" Peter said, not bothering to sound innocent.
Tony Stark, the rock star of the superhero world, turned wordlessly back in his seat. Captain America glanced over, and audibly wondered if he could do anything more to nurse said rock star superhero's hangover.
Not-Spiderman in the backseat prayed that none of them would be recognized in school.
When they arrived, Steve drew up to the front of the building. "Why don't you two go to the office and I'll meet you inside?"
"Don't leave me alone with him," Tony muttered. If Peter Stark wasn't the teenager formerly known as Spiderman, he would not have been able to hear that quiet plea for help from his titled 'Dad'. Peter paused with his hand on the door. Well, great, now I feel even more shitty, he thought.
With great power...
Peter exercised great power over Tony and Steve, didn't he? Peter screwed eyes shut painfully. Comes great responsibility. He was sixteen, he shouldn't have to deal with all of this crap. But they were a family, and Peter could have just accepted the shelter, food, and Stark name without making them a family, but he hadn't. These were the people who made up Peter's home, and he was treating them like crap.
Fine. Your non-hero mission, should you choose to accept it, is to not make your dads miserable.
Peter almost hit something with the frustration his new goal put on him, but he knew there was no alternative. Spiderman, however not in costume, was not going to be a bad guy. And Peter really didn't hate Steve and Tony, they were just... unreasonably protective.
.
Captain America was the first one to actually enter the principle's office, because Tony got lost and Peter was with Tony trying to convince Tony that he was, in fact, lost.
"Good morning," Steve said as he sat down.
"Hello, Mr. Parker," the guidance counselor said. Her name, when Steve had talked to her on the phone, was Miss Hasting. She was sitting in the Principal's chair, however, so Steve had a moment where he thought her name was Doctor Earl J. Sampson.
He quickly cleared his head. "I'm not Mr. Parker," Steve told her.
Miss Hastings looked up from her paper. She blinked seven times, and set the paper down with shaking hands. She was a young, attractive woman who was very under qualified for her job, and had more then once fantasized about meeting Captain America.
She was literally unable to speak.
"I'm Steve Rogers," Steve continued awkwardly, feeling the need to explain, "I'm not Mr. Park... well, there is no Mr. Parker. Peter was adopted by a... friend, of mine, and I uh... moral support..." It's not a secret. "I'm here with my... partner... Tony Stark, on behalf of our son, Peter Stark." He swallowed. "We talked on the phone?"
Miss Cecilia Hastings was about to die.
Peter opened the door and walked inside. He sat down next to Steve. "Hi," he said.
Tony Stark, in sunglasses, designer clothes, and bearing an angry cloud of anger, also walked inside. He sat down next to Peter, making the teenager sandwiched between his parents.
"Miss Hastings?"
Cecilia Hastings, slowly, trying to stop the overwhelming urge to cry, nodded her head.
"These are my dads," Peter said to his guidance counselor. He had known here since freshman year, and had seen her much more then most people had. He'd known her enough not to like her, since she knew nothing about what she was doing and had, the first day of high school, given Peter three classes in the same period.
"Sta..." Cecilia Hastings clamped her hand to her mouth. She had managed not to cry, but her white knuckles revealed just how deep her nails were digging into her cheeks.
"I'm not actually Peter's guardian, I'm technically his godfather, but..." Steve looked at Tony.
"I'm Peter's father," Tony said. His voice was rigid. "We're here because we feel like it is necessary to sign Peter up for a few extracurricular activities to keep him busy. They have to be either before or after his job, and..." He remembered, "Peter has a study hall, can we make that another class? Robotics or shop or something like that?"
Cecilia Hastings cried as she nodded and took out the proper forms.
.
Peter's new schedule was very strict. He got up, and one of the Avengers would take him to school and watch him until he got in the building. He went to classes, and he did not have an empty period because now he was taking Robotics; Tony's idea. After school, Peter went to the Drama Club, which he had chosen because Gwen was in it and Mary Jane was going to be in it when she came back on Thursday. After that, one of the Avengers or a SHIELD personnel escorted Peter to work. After work, an Avenger or SHIELD personnel escorted Peter home, where he would be babysat for the rest of the night by said Avenger or SHIELD personnel. It was an unspoken rule too, that Peter was watched the entire day just to make sure he didn't do something stupid like save someone's life.
He ate his cereal and tried not to glare across the table.
Peter was glad for Steve, like he always was. If it was just him and Tony, well, Peter wasn't sure that much snarky wisecracking could exist without a murder.
"Well," Steve said with his excessive cheeriness as he poured Tony some very strong coffee. "I think I'll drive Peter today; Bruce wanted you for that... project."
"What? I'm not allowed to know top secret Avengers stuff anymore?" Peter grumbled.
"You weren't supposed to know it anyways," Tony stated as he accepted the coffee.
"Didn't bother you before," Peter said to his toast.
Steve smiled. "More juice?"
Peter guessed it was some sort of 1940's crossover that Steve felt it was necessary that the whole family eat their meals together. He woke Tony up before the Iron Man needed to be, every weekday, which made Tony pissed off, and Steve always made sure Peter was awake in time to eat a full breakfast.
"No," Peter said. He was sick of eating breakfast like this. He missed grabbing a protein bar or a handful of nuts on his way to crime fight before the first school bell. He missed having the freedom to control his own time.
He missed wallcrawling.
"Sport, do you still have your helmet for the motorcycle?" Steve asked a bit too happily.
Tony smirked as he took a sip of coffee. "You think you are so badass when you ride that bike, don't you?"
Steve turned crimson. "Shut up," he muttered. He untied the apron around his waist and hung it on the apron rack, which had a confusing assortment of aprons. There was an American flag apron, a black, heavy apron, and a Hulk apron. Steve always wore the black one, but Tony liked to hide the black one and force Steve to choose between American flag or Hulk. Wearing aprons was an unspoken rule in a kitchen frequently used by every member of the Avengers, plus Darcy and Peter. There had been far too many fires, and superhero costumes were not easily washed or repaired.
"I should be ready for dinner, unless Bruce, Thor, and I make a breakthrough with that... thing," Tony told Steve with a glance toward Peter.
Peter raised his eyebrows, interested. So, Thor is involved in Mysterious Avenger Project?
"Which I'm certain you will." Steve smiled at Peter. "Ready?"
"Yeah," Peter picked up his plate and put it in the sink. JARVIS or that prototype housekeeping robot Tony had just made would put the dishes away.
"Give us a kiss," Tony said as he picked up his computer tablet. Steve did.
And when a chaste press of lips held on for a bit too long, and they were both closing their eyes, Peter coughed loudly into his hands, "Dads."
Iron Man and Captain America, reluctantly, stopped kissing.
Steve swallowed, and began to head to the door. Right before Peter and Steve left the apartment, Tony called out, "Let's get some fondue tonight!"
Steve slammed the door.
.