It was supposed to be an easy battle. Peter was old enough to watch Emmy, they both were smart enough to know better than to open the door to strangers, the battle was almost a hundred miles from where they were so really it should have been fine. The problem was that there is trouble of more than one kind.
Peter and Emmy sat on the couch together watching the news. The hotel they were staying at with their fathers was nice, they had ordered room service since it was almost dinner time, and the news made them feel connected.
"See, they are fine, Emmy," said Peter with a slight smile, pointing at the screen as the Avengers fought some strange form of mutant slug.
Emmy rolled her eyes but refrained from commenting; Peter was thirteen and thought he knew everything.
They heard it before they felt it. It sounded a bit like rolling thunder or perhaps a train but the noise didn't actually register as significant until the shaking started.
"Earthquake!" screamed Peter.
Quickly he grabbed Emmy's hand and pulled her to the table since the ground was rocking too hard for them to reach a door. They huddled under the table as things began to fall off the shelves. Ceiling tiles detached from the ceiling and the entire floor began to crack with a sickening sound.
"Shit!" yelled Peter, curling protectively around Emmy as best he could when the ceiling gave in entirely and the floor decided to follow suit, sending them crashing down with all the other useless debris.
They fell and kept falling, tumbling into things they couldn't see for all the dust and the only thing Peter knew for sure was that Emmy was still tucked against him and he was entirely too thankful that she was small for her age.
The earthquake ended several minutes before everything else settled. When they finally chanced a glance around, Emmy and Peter found themselves buried, the only thing saving them from utter destruction being a large slab of floor at an angle above their heads.
"Peter?" whispered Emmy. "You okay?"
"I think so," said Peter, sitting up slightly and feeling his hair with his hands. "I'm not bleeding. You?"
"I'm okay," said Emmy, wincing as she scooted closer to her brother.
"Don't worry," said Peter, putting his arm around Emmy, knowing her fear of the dark had to be creeping in. "I'm sure Dad and Papa will be here soon."
"They were fighting far away," said Emmy softly. "They don't even know what happened. They won't be here soon."
"You doubt JARVIS?" said Peter, forcing his voice to be light and teasing. "You really think our overprotective family would have left us all alone without something monitoring us?"
Emmy shook her head and didn't reply because there was nothing to say. She knew that logistically there was going to be some wait-time before their family even started unearthing them but she didn't think saying it out loud would make anything better.
-Life Without Instructions-
"Sir," said JARVIS, his tone mildly panicked, with for the AI meant on the verge of shorting out.
"Little busy," replied Tony, rolling in mid air to dodge another stream of fire.
"There has been an earthquake of significant magnitude with it's epicenter 0.8 miles from the hotel Miss Emmy and Young Peter are staying," replied JARVIS, ignoring the usual instruction from his creator that meant not to continue with his line of speaking.
"Damage?" demanded Tony.
"It seems the hotel they were staying at along with most of the buildings in the surrounded area have partially collapsed."
"Guys, if we could finish this up like, yesterday, that would be great," said Tony as calmly as he could.
"What do you think we've been trying to do?" snapped Clint, firing off another volley of arrows from the side of a billboard.
"Earthquake near the hotel," reported Tony coldly. "JARVIS says it's collapsed. Emmy and Pete are still inside."
It wasn't like the Avengers had been fighting at anything less than 97 percent before, because they hadn't, but at the news that their younger members needed them every one stepped up their game. They were no longer aiming to main and question later, they aimed to end the battle as quickly as possible, firing with scary precision and working in a cohesive group that was previously unseen. It was frightening and suddenly one had to wonder what would happen if this group ever turned to the dark side.
Twenty-seven minutes, that's how long it took them to wrap up their mission. It was exactly twenty-seven minutes too long for any of them. Where they normally stayed to help clean up and contain their advisories, they left that to the agents who had finally arrived, flying off instead to their hotel.
When they arrived, it was utter chaos. People were crying and screaming, things were smoking, and the hotel. The hotel was nothing more than a jumbled pile of glorified building, perhaps the bottom two floors still intact and even that was a loose term. The rest of it looked like the Hulk had wanted that spot for a nap and promptly beat it down to create a nest of rubble.
"Shit," cursed Clint softly as they unloaded from the jet.
Tony analyzed the building as best he could, seeking out life forms but there was too much interference from the debris to tell. When that failed, Tony had JARVIS reconstruct the building in his visor so he could visualize where his children would end up.
"We need to start digging," announced Tony. "But it's going to be slow going. Nobody move anything they aren't absolutely sure is on top. In fact, Bruce, you and Steve need to start ground control. Help anyone who knows exactly where their people are."
"I'm not leaving until I know Peter and Emmy are alright," growled Steve.
Tony turned to his husband, his visor going down so they could talk face to face.
"Baby, I love you but you weigh too much," said Tony bluntly. "The more weight we have shifting around on their the more likely we are to crush them. I can hover, Clint and Natasha walk like fucking birds. I will have JARVIS feeding you constant updates. Hell, he can give you a play by play if you want, but this, right now, arguing about who is going to be up there, is stupid and pointless and costing them time they might not have."
"But-"
"I know you want to help," said Tony softly. "But you being Captain America, helping others, that's where I need you. Okay?"
Steve nodded, looking for all the world like a dejected puppy.
"Make sure they're okay," said Steve quietly.
"They're our kids," replied Tony with a tight smile. "They wouldn't dream of being anything else."
-Life Without Instructions-
"When I was really little I had a mom," whispered Emmy.
"You did?" said Peter, surprised by this information more than he should have been.
"Yes," said Emmy. "She wasn't very kind."
"Oh," said Peter. He was never sure what to say when Emmy talked about her past (which was not often). "I had a mom too. And a dad. They were amazing. We played games and went to neat places. Then they got in an accident and I went to live with my aunt and uncle. But they were pretty old and my uncle died so I had to live with a friend. Then Uncle Phil brought me to Dad and Papa."
"Do you ever miss your first parents?" asked Emmy.
"Sometimes," admitted Peter. "But not because I don't love Dad and Papa. I just miss my first parents because of all the good memories I have of them. You know?"
"Not really," said Emmy softly.
The rubble above them shifted, sending smaller bits and dust down on their heads.
"Oi!" yelled Peter up at the dim light. "We're trying to have sibling bonding time down here, so if you could not fall on our heads, that would be great."
"Peter," giggled Emmy. "Rocks don't understand people."
"Well they should," grumbled Peter.
"Peter?" came a muffled call.
"Yes?" replied Peter suspiciously. "Emmy, please tell me the rocks did not just talk back."
"Uncle Clint!" squealed Emmy, looking up at their makeshift roof.
"Peter! Emmy!" yelled Clint. More rubble shifted. "Tony, Nat, I have them but I can't lift this slab."
There were the brief sound of repulsers then blinding daylight filtered in, causing both children to cringe and slam their eyes shut.
"Hey kids," said Clint with a grin, jumping and landing lightly in the cramped crater.
"Took you long enough," said Peter with a grin. "What, did you stop for ice-cream?"
"Maybe," said Clint before pulling Peter in for a hug. Emmy stayed firmly seated on the ground, watching with wide eyes but not saying a word.
"Emmy! Peter!" yelled Steve, vaulting over the lip of the crater.
"Papa!" said Peter with a tearful smile, jumping from Clint to Steve where he sniffed in the most manly way possible. "I was so scared."
"Hey, you're okay," said Steve soothingly.
"You okay, Emmy?" asked Clint, crouching next to the seven year old.
"My arm hurts," said Emmy softly. "I think I'd like to go home now."
"Let's take a look, kiddo," said Clint.
Emmy held out her arm and allowed Clint to take it in his rough hands, inspecting the damage.
"Probably just a fracture," assessed Clint. "We'll let Uncle Bruce have a look."
Tony arrived, fresh out of the suit, and joined the growing group in the hollow. He hugged Peter and picked Emmy off the ground. It was a more difficult task than it had been when she first came to them three years before but it was still entirely too easy.
"You two okay?" asked Tony, holding her close and reaching out to keep a hand on Peter as if he thought the boy would disappear if he wasn't touching him.
"Bruised but okay," reported Peter. "Can we go?"
"Yes," said Steve.
The super soldier pulled his son out of the crater and helped him pick his way down to the ground while Clint followed, keeping one hand on Tony's elbow to steady the billionaire as he carried Emmy. When they were safely on the ground, every Avenger loaded into the jet. It was by an unspoken agreement that today they would just be a family and take care of their own instead of the rest of the world.
"Ducky, you need to let go so Uncle Bruce and see your arm," said Tony.
Emmy shook her head and burrowed deeper into Tony's arms. Steve and Tony exchanged worried looks; it had been a while since Emmy had gotten so clingy that she wouldn't allow anyone else to help her.
"Peter, you want to learn how to fly the jet?" asked Natasha casually.
"Yes!" said Peter excitedly. "Can I, Papa?"
"Aunt Natasha has to do take off and landing but yes, as long as she promises to be right next to you the entire time you may learn to fly," said Steve.
"Thank you!"
Peter hugged Steve then ran to the front of the jet, excitedly babbling about each switch to Natasha – his favorite family member next to his immediate family. Steve mouthed a quick thank you to the spy before turning his attention back to Emmy. He felt a pang of guilt at not being able to give Peter more attention but it was a smaller pang than it had been in the past. Steve had long ago understood that Emmy needed special care and Peter never seemed to mind. The boy loved Emmy and bounced back from every encounter in a way that she never would.
"Baby, can you look at me for a sec?" asked Steve softly, sitting next to Tony so all Emmy had to do was peek her eyes up a bit. "Sweetheart, can you tell us what's wrong?"
"It was so dark," whispered Emmy brokenly. "It was dark and I knew you were coming but I also knew it was going to be forever before you got us. I kept seeing things from – from before. And I didn't want to because that's scary. And Petey was scared and I didn't want to scare him more but it was dark and we couldn't get out!"
"That must have been really scary," said Steve, nodding along while Tony rubbed Emmy's back. "But I am so proud of you. You were so brave."
"No I wasn't."
"Yes you were. You were scared but you remembered that Daddy and I always come back. You were scared but you were worried about Petey. That's very brave, sweetheart."
"It was?"
"Yup. You're the bravest kid I know. Now, do you think we could let Uncle Bruce take a look at that arm of yours? You can stay with Daddy the whole time if you want."
"Okay," whispered Emmy. "But I think Daddy should go check on Petey. He acts pretty brave but he was really scared down there. Daddy, you should help Aunt Nat teach him how to fly, he'd like that."
"You sure, Ducky?" asked Tony.
"Yes," said Emmy reluctantly. "Papa, you'll stay?"
"Of course," said Steve with a smile.
"Okay," said Emmy. "Then go take care of Petey, Daddy. Papa's got me."
Tony beamed at his little girl who could be terrified and still offer up her preferred method of comfort – him – to someone else. He still – after 3 years – wasn't sure he was a good parent but he had to be doing something right.