AN: Replying to a review because someone pointed out that Ironpig wouldn't still be a piglet this far along. While that normally would be true, having Ironpig being little and being small enough to be carried around almost certainly makes Tony happy. I had planned to eventually have someone point out that Ironpig isn't getting as big as most pigs should be at his age. More to come on that in a future story, but rest assured I know he should be bigger. Thanks!
On a more personal note, I know I haven't been around much, lately, and since some of you have literally been with me since my Stargate days, it's only fair to let you in on what's going on that is taking my attention so much. My oldest brother was diagnosed with brain cancer and is undergoing treatment. He's responding very well and they did surgery to get most of it out that way, so the chemo is oral and the radiation isn't too awful. I just wanted you all to know so you don't think I've forgotten you or my story. I have not, rest assured! I do appreciate your patience with me, right now. Love you all.
OOOOOOOO
Natasha was sitting with Bucky and Steve in the lounge when Peter walked in a short time later. A glance at the bar told him where Tony was, but his adopted father gestured for him to go sit down, rather than walk over and join him. The boy smiled at Natasha, who was holding Nutmeg in her arms, absently rubbing his belly while she chatted with Steve and Barnes. She echoed the smile when he joined them.
"Hi, baby. Did you have a good time?"
"It was fun," he confirmed. He reached for Nutmeg, but Romanoff turned just a little in her chair – enough to tell him to find something else warm and fuzzy to cuddle because she wasn't done with the kitten, just then. "We went to the Smithsonian."
"I heard." She'd been informed before the trip had even started what the planned itinerary was, in case something came up. She didn't tell him, though, because he had to know. "What did you think?"
"It was neat. There was a whole section about the OSS and all the stuff that they did in the war, and an even bigger section all about Steve."
"Not just me," Rogers objected, ignoring Bucky's smirk at the way his ears turned red. "It's a shout out to the people I worked with, back then."
"Bucky was even in it," Peter said, suitably impressed. "It had a video of him and Steve. Back in the old days."
"It wasn't the old days," Barnes told him – and now he rolled his eyes, too. He was in a good mood, though. He'd spent time with Steve (and Peter, who was a good guy) and was learning to relax, again, after so many years of being a puppet for an organization that he was now free of – and always would be. "You make it sound like we were out hunting dinosaurs, or something."
Peter grinned, but as Tony walked over with a couple of platters that held burgers and fries, Natasha smirked, turning her attention to the boy.
"Speaking of Flerkin kittens who won't hunt mice…"
The boy raised an eyebrow, well aware that that meant there was an interesting story coming.
"Were we?"
"No," Tony said, setting a plate in front of Peter before sitting across from him – beside Steve. "We were speaking of a chocolate lab who thinks it's funny to bring drooled on mice into the compound and then turn them loose onto Pepper's lap…"
"He didn't…"
Steve looked down at Jack, who had settled just within range of a good scratching whenever he needed it.
"Oh, he very much did," Tony confirmed. "Walked right up and spit it out on her lap."
"Tony's scream was heard all across the state," Natasha told them, clearly amused. "Good thing you were in DC, at the time."
"I didn't scream," Stark told her – again. "I was just trying to startle it – to keep it from biting Pepper, or something."
"Right…"
"It might have had rabies, Romanoff. You never know."
"Where is it now?" Peter asked, curiously.
"Still roaming the compound. I turned Nutmeg loose to look for it, but Friday saw it running in the corridor next to the commissary this morning, so clearly your cat isn't doing his job."
"Or you didn't try very hard to get him to catch it," Steve said. He looked at Romanoff. "He didn't name it, did he? Are we sure Tony isn't already planning a safe hole in the wall with a little picket fence and a mailbox that says Ironmouse on it?"
Peter snorted, and Tony smiled but he rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed.
"I'm not planning on keeping it," he assured them. "And if I were planning on it, I'd give it a much better name than Ironmouse."
"Mortimer?" Bucky asked, not smiling – although his eyes were cheerful and amused.
Ignoring him – which was just as funny to Peter, since he knew Tony wasn't really annoyed – the billionaire turned to his son.
"Tell us about your trip," he said, opening his burger to add mustard. "And then, when we're done eating, get together with Friday and whoever you need to borrow from the trainees and catch the mouse – alive – and get him back to the field where he belongs, will you?"
"Yeah."
OOOOOOOOO
"Do I even want to know what you're doing?"
Peter smiled, but he didn't look up from the door he was watching so intently. He knew he had to look just a little odd; he was sprawled on the floor of the corridor outside a closet – the same closet where he and Shuri had shared a clandestine (somewhat) kiss – and he was wearing a glove with his hand held slightly up, clearly waiting for something.
"Shhh… you'll scare him."
"Who?"
"The mouse…"
Pepper didn't roll her eyes, but she did frown, and she glanced over at Tony, who was standing beside her, holding a small plastic Tupperware container that had leftover birthday cake in it.
"Do you see a mouse?"
"Nope. The kid is crazy, clearly. Probably from letting him go away without us."
"I'm not crazy," Peter said, softly. "Hear that?"
Both of the adults cocked their heads, slightly, and then Pepper shook her head.
"I don't hear-"
There was a sound of sudden pounding coming from somewhere on the other side of the wall of the closet. Along with the pounding, they could now hear a few voices shouting.
"What's-"
Before Tony could even get the question out, a small furry body shot out from under the door of the closet, startling Pepper and Tony – who screamed and jumped out of the way. Peter was faster, though. Faster than Tony, faster than Pepper – who hadn't actually moved away but had still flinched – and faster, even, than the mouse. With a quick grab, he caught the little creature in his gloved hand, careful to be gentle.
"Gotcha!"
A small group of the trainees came running out from the larger rooms on either side of the closet.
"Did it work?" one of the trainees asked.
The boy held up the gloved hand, the tail hanging it from it proof of their success.
"Yeah. Thanks for the help." Peter got to his feet, still holding his prize, and he smiled at Pepper. "How was the party?"
"It was fun. I brought you some birthday cake."
"Great."
"But you can't have it until you get your furry friend out of Nick's compound," Tony added.
"I'll take him out to the field."
"Out into the trees," Pepper told him. "That way he won't get spotted right away by a hungry owl or something."
"Okay."
She smiled, reaching out to brush his cheek with her hand.
"Meet us in the lounge?"
"Yeah. I won't be long."
"And wash your hands," Tony added, as their son turned to head down the corridor with the others crowded around him, all of them intent on taking the mouse out to his freedom.
"He had a good time?" Pepper asked as she and Tony headed for the lounge.
"He said he did. I made him wait to tell me all the really interesting stories until you got home to hear them, too."
"That was nice of you."
"Because I'm a nice guy, Pep."
"Right…"
"I am," he said, pleased with himself. "Rich. Good looking. Superhero. Family man. I-"
"You're afraid of a mouse…"
"I'm not afraid of it. I told you, they could have-"
"Rabies…" she said. "I remember."
"Right."
"Peter didn't scream."
Tony rolled his eyes.
"Peter doesn't know about rabies. He's still young and dumb."
"I'm going to tell him you called him dumb."
"I have cake. He won't care."
She smiled, knowing it would be true even without the cake.
"I suppose."
