#steves cursed to sing a country song how tragic

[peteypiessuperfamily]

I know hes a brooklyn boy but in every thought i ever have about Steve hes automatically country

[rhysie-cakes314]

Day 12- Childhood Fear

Summary:

Sometimes, Tony just got these ideas. "We’ll each tell you a story about our childhood fears. That way,” he glanced around the room, and his eyes told them there was no getting out of this, “Peter doesn’t grow up thinking he shouldn’t talk about his feelings like some of us did.”

That's how a perfectly normal Goosebumps marathon became a night of stories and revelations that the eight year old Peter would cherish forever. 

“Viewers beware, you’re in for a scare,” the voice played over the opening before Steve turned the TV off without warning.

“Alright, I think that’s enough Goosebumps for one day,” he told the room. Steve and Peter had been watching the show all day. Each of the others had come into the room at different points, and having been sucked in by one episode or another, settled in to join the marathon. Even Tony had eventually made his way sleepily from the lab. He was currently drooling on Steve’s left shoulder, fast asleep with his plate of pizza still sitting in his lab. Between his husband and his eight year old nestled into his lap, Steve was beginning to sweat.

“But we were just about to reach season four!” Clint whined from his spot on the floor. He was leaning against Phil’s legs against the armchair, and the SHIELD agent was mindlessly playing with his hair, eyes closed.

Tony startled awake at Clint’s outburst, and Steve could punch the archer, Tony needed to sleep. The genius reached down and took another bite of pizza as though he hadn’t just been asleep. “Wait, we stopped the show?” he asked, confused. Steve stifled a laugh.

“Peter here has bed soon,” Steve explained to everyone’s groans. “We wouldn’t want him to have nightmares, would we?” He looked down at the child pointedly, ruffling his hair.

Peter pushed his hand off as he sat up, looking like Steve had insulted his honour. “I wasn’t scared! Goosebumps are only scary to babies.” Natasha thought the pout and crossed arms made the kid look just like a mini Tony. It was adorable.

“I disagree, young Peter,” Thor spoke very seriously. “I thought Slappy was quite frightening.”

“But dummy’s can’t actually talk, it was clearly just a bot.” Peter explained.

Tony pointed at the child proudly, “That’s right, squirt. You want to make a Slappy bot?” Peter giggled as he nodded in excitement.

Thor poured the rest of the popcorn into his mouth. “The dummy was possessed by a malicious spirit,” he spoke while chewing, sending flecks flying. Tony wiped a fleck of popcorn off his face.

“I guess that’s kind of scary,” Peter admitted. Thor nodded. “I thought the cursed camera was scarier, so don’t feel bad about being scared.” The Avengers shared a look as they all stifled a laugh. Peter attempting to comfort the god of thunder because he thought Thor needed it was one of the cutest things in the world. Steve looked down when he felt his shirt being tugged. “Pops, what were all of you scared of when you were kids?”

Steve opened his mouth to respond that maybe they could talk about it tomorrow, Tony sabotaged him without thinking. “That’s a great idea! We’ll each tell you a story about our childhood fears. That way,” he glanced around the room, and his eyes told them there was no getting out of this, “Peter doesn’t grow up thinking he shouldn’t talk about his feelings like some of us did.”

While Steve agreed that they should always do what they could to make sure Peter didn’t succumb to toxic masculinity, it didn’t have to be right now. “It’s getting late,” he started, but Peter placed a finger to his lips and made a shushing noise.

“Pleeeaaseee!” Peter begged. “I promise I’ll go right to sleep after.”

“And I’ll make my special hot cocoa!” Natasha sing-songed.

The night was already out of his control. Steve shot Tony a glare. They would talk about this later. Just because Tony had no semblance of a sleep schedule did not mean that Peter should inherit the bad habit. “Alright,” Steve acquiesced. Natasha had already left the room to make cocoa. The woman refused to let any of them know what made hers taste so special, claiming it was a Russian family secret. Only Bruce was ever allowed in the room and that was only to help her top them with whipped cream.

Once everyone had cocoa in their hands and was settled into the couches, Clint jumped up. “Me first!” No one fought him on it. “When I was little, there was local legend about an evil witch named Natasha-”

“No lying Uncle Clint!” Peter cried out. Clint lunged forward to tickle Peter. His squeals filled the room. Steve snatched the mug of cocoa before it spilled, shooting a glare at Clint. Clint winked at him before stepping back towards the TV again.

“You’re too smart for your own good, kid. Fine, I’ll tell a real story, though the witch Natasha scares me as an adult.” He ducked the pillow thrown at him before continuing. His face grew more serious as he decided what he should talk about that wouldn’t be too dark for an eight year old. Not that they ever shielded Peter from much, but the kid could stand to mature a little before hearing some of their tragic backstories.

“For part of my childhood, I lived with a traveling circus/carnival. They called us carnies,” he explained. “My brother, Barney, and I worked as roustabouts at first. Since we were the only kids, a lot of the adults liked to tell us stories. I was more gullible than Barney. There was this story that everyone worked together to come up with, and they each told it to me in snippets like it was some sort of historical event no one quite remembered.

“Supposedly, there was a set of conjoined twins who used to be part of the crew. Their names were Riley and Kylie. The two women were polar opposites in personality, and their constant bickering became the source of their act. The problem was, Kylie didn’t want to be in a carnival. She wanted to get surgery to separate them, but Riley loved their lifestyle travelling around the country with nothing to tie them down. The doctors wouldn’t attempt anything without permission from both twins; it was a dangerous surgery that was rarely done anyway.

“Their bickering slowly became screaming matches that kept everyone awake at night. Kylie begged her sister to let her live her own life. Riley could come up with her own act, she didn’t need Kylie or to be a freak. She could be a trapeze artist or something, Kylie argued. Riley would scream that Kylie would never escape her, that they were born together and would stay together until the day they died.

“And it might have turned out that way if Kylie hadn’t fallen in love with the knife thrower. They sent each other love notes, Kylie only writing and reading while Riley slept. The affair was rife with tension because the man wanted sex, but there was an obvious obstacle.”

Peter snorted at the picture in his head. Sex still seemed gross to him, but it would be extra weird if your sister was attached to you.

Clint waggled his eyebrows at Peter, happy to know the boy was enjoying the story. “Together, the star-crossed lovers hatched a plan. Kylie started hinting to Riley that they should try mixing their act with some of the others, that maybe if Riley found a new partnership she’d like, they could finally agree on the surgery. Riley bought into it, happy enough to humour her sister if it meant they’d stop screaming at each other every night.

“The twins tried out a few things, including letting the knife-thrower use them as a target. The rehearsals went fine, the man never missed, and he always successfully surrounded them with knives without hitting them once. After weeks of this, the ringmaster okayed the act for the show. Kylie was thrilled, their plan would commence that night.

“In front of a live audience, Riley was murdered by knife after knife to her chest. Her screams became the talk of the town for years.” Clint heard Peter gasp softly. “With Riley dead, the doctors had no choice but to separate her from Kylie. The lovers did not get to celebrate their success for long, because the angry ghost of Riley showed up the very next night. The poor roustabout who found their bodies could barely tell who they were, they had been stabbed so many times.

“But that wasn’t the worst part! No, the rumour started that the vengeful spirit of the murdered twin still haunted the troupe and killed anybody who lied to their sibling.” Clint shuddered. “Barney held that over me for years. I couldn’t lie to him at all because I was terrified of being stabbed by a ghost!” Clint bowed theatrically.

Peter clapped until everyone gave polite applause. “That is scary, Uncle Clint! But you shouldn’t lie to people anyway,” he lectured sternly. Clint couldn’t possibly be expected not to laugh at that!

The eight year old only frowned deeper until Clint held his hands up in surrender. “You’re so very right, Peter, I’m sorry. My brother and I weren’t good kids.”  

Mollified, Peter stood on Tony’s legs to announce who would be up next. “Aunt Tasha, you’re up!”

The assassin took Clint’s place in front of her family. She looked nervous for a moment, something none of them had ever seen on her. “So,” she started, voice sharp. She cleared her throat, softening her tone. “This is complicated, my kroshka,” she met Peter’s gaze seriously. He nodded for her to go on. Peter was a smart kid, raised by a genius, but he was only eight. Natasha barely understood her own childhood. “I’m not sure which of my childhood memories are real and which are false,” she explained gently.

Peter scooted his butt off the couch, surprising the the woman with a hug. “That’s okay Tasha,” he assured her. Natasha wasn’t sure when she had become so entangled in this family; she never imagined she’d love a child like she loved Peter Stark-Rogers. Having children had never been in her own plans, but she would give anything for this kid’s happiness. “Fears are real even if their source isn’t anyway.” He looked up at her. It was such a wise thing for a child to say, all of the Avengers looked a little taken aback. “But you don’t have to tell one if you don’t want to.”

The redhead leaned down, placing a kiss on Peter’s forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For you, my kroshka, I will.” Peter’s face brightened and he ran back to Tony’s lap, ignoring the squawk from his father.

“In that case, I’ll tell you one of the things I do remember.” Natasha tucked her hair behind her ears while she collected her thoughts. “Now, this isn’t real, but I remember it as though it were. The scientists that raised me made me believe that I spent years of my life training at a ballet studio.

“At this studio, I had an imaginary teacher, he name was Ms. Nida. Ms. Nida was very strict, and she scared me.” The corner of her lips twitched into a near smile, the false memories bittersweet. She sometimes wish they were real, because they were much nicer than her reality. “I know it may seem silly that I was afraid of a ballet instructor, but you know that look Steve gets when he’s angry at Tony?” She asked Peter.

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Pops has a scary angry face!”

Tony burst out laughing when Steve blushed, looking at his son, horrified. “Do I scare you?” he asked.

Peter shook his head. “No, I know you only get mad ‘cause you care. But if I didn’t know you, it’d be very scary!” Tony continued to laugh through the entire affair. Steve thought he enjoyed it a little too much.

Natasha waited for their attention to return before she went on. “Well Ms. Nida had a similar face when she got mad. And she could yell like an angry Tony.” It was Steve’s turn to chuckle when Peter shuddered. “So when we were learning our parts for Swan Lake, and I was having trouble remembering it, I tried to hide and skip lessons. I didn’t want her to yell at me. Ms. Nida knew all of the studio’s nooks and crannies, though. There was no way I was going to avoid her.

“She called out for me in each room as she searched. Her voice grew angrier with every yell. When she did find me, she slapped me over and over, and made me explain to the whole ballet troupe why they were going to be punished the next day; that it was all my fault. The embarrassment is what really frightened me in the end. I thought all of the other dancers would hate me. So my fear was of being hated.” Natasha finished, waiting patiently for Peter’s reaction.

For his part, the boy looked thoughtful for a moment. “But you’re not afraid of being hated now?”

She shook her head, smiling down at him. “I don’t like to be hated, but I don’t fear it. Some people won’t like you, kroshka, plain and simple. There’s nothing you’ll be able to do to avoid it so there’s no sense fearing it. All you can do is be yourself.”

“I know, there’s already kids at school who hate me,” he answered sadly.

“What!? Who are they? I will march down to that school-”

Steve cut him off. “Tony, you will do no such thing. People are allowed to not like Peter.”

Tony huffed. “Well they’re stupid, then. He’s perfect and brilliant and nice…” he tickled the kid in his lap, relishing in the giggles.

Steve watched them fondly. “Who’s next Peter?”

“Hmmm… You!” He pointed at Steve.

Steve smiled. “Well that’s easy. I was afraid-”

“No! You have to stand in front and tell it like a story!” Peter demanded, Tony nodding in agreement behind him. Steve sighed, moving to face the audience.

“Well, everyone knows that I wasn’t a healthy kid. I was constantly ill, too skinny, and had pretty bad asthma. It was just my mom and I, and we never had enough money, mostly because my medicine and doctor’s appointments cost so much. The obvious answer to your question, Peter, would be to say that I was afraid of dying, but it wasn’t that simple.

“I’ve never been afraid of dying. For one, my mother always taught me to believe in God, and I’ve never had trouble knowing that I’ll be in heaven after I die. Nothing could be scary about that. There were many winters when I would go to bed very aware that I may not wake up ever again.”

A harsh burst of air punched out of Tony at the same time that Peter let out a soft “oh.” Neither of them seemed to be aware of it as they watched Steve with rapt attention, waiting for more. It was easy to forget that Steve used to be so fragile. He just seemed invincible most of the time.

Steve gave them a sad smile. “That’s just how it was when a skinny poor kid got the flu back then. The flu vaccine didn’t even exist yet. I think I got my first one in the middle of the war,” he added as an afterthought. “Sometimes, being that sick and miserable, death sounded kind of nice. My body would finally stop suffering.” Steve met Peter’s tearful gaze and locked onto them. Peter had never been kept away from the reality of death and suffering. It was something Steve and Tony had agreed on before adopting the boy. He couldn’t have superheroes as parents and not be as prepared for the worst as one can be.

“What I was afraid of, was leaving my mother alone. She was so sad sometimes, lonely after my father died, and I had made it my mission in life to make her as happy as I could. She tried her best to put on a brave face whenever I got really sick, but she couldn’t hide the terror in her eyes. My mother couldn’t lose me, not if I could help it. That fear is probably the only thing that kept me alive through the worst of it. I would feel myself make the decision sometimes, the choice to not die. Because leaving her alone and sad was scarier than the pain of living.” His husband and son were both crying now, and Thor sniffed loudly.

Peter stood and faced his pops. Steve was prepared for a hug, but Peter didn’t hug him. Instead he grew very serious. “Thank you for staying alive. It was very brave.” He gave a firm nod, then sat back down. When had the night become this serious? Peter’s words surprised a small gasp from Steve. He had to clear his throat, decidedly not contributing more to tonight’s tears.

“You’re welcome. I love you.” They snuggled into the couch again, Peter forcing his dads to lean on each other to hold his tiny hands in the middle. He balanced himself on one leg from each of them. Without speaking, he pointed at Thor.

Thor beamed. “I would be honoured to tell a story, tiny Peter!” He stood so heroically, it was easy to forget he was in a t-shirt and sweats instead of his armour and cape. “It has been thousands of years since I was a child. Growing up as the son of the All-Father, I was raised as a warrior from birth. I was too strong to fear anything in Asgard or any of the nine-realms for that matter. No, I was too confident for my own good. What I did fear, was that I would not live up to my responsibilities.

“I knew from the beginning that someday, I must take over as king of Asgard. Frigga and Odin raised me well, and I knew that in theory I would be ready. But in practice, it was far too easy to fail. Technically, past the time when my body resembled a Midgardian child, I was certainly still a child in maturity and age, given Asgardian lifespans. In the 9th century AD, I was given my first task that resembled a practice run for being a king. I traveled to Midgard, and went by the name Donner. The All-Father had tasked me to promote the worship of Asgardians amongst the Norse-men. It seemed to be going splendidly, and my fear of leading and failing was fading.

“The fear was brought forth anew when I found out how the vikings used my name after I left. They slaughtered thousands of Christians in the name of the thunder god. I had never intended my followers to become so cruel. I must not have been clear enough in my leadership. It was an important wake-up call for me. The smallest mistake in handling a people could lead to disaster. That was probably what I would consider the end of my adolescence.”

The room was silent. No one was sure right away if Thor was finished. Peter finally broke the silence, “You don’t sound like you were ever a child.” His brow was furrowed in confusion. “I love you, Uncle Thor, but you’re weird.” It was definitely along the lines of what they were all thinking, but Peter had the bluntness of a child on his side.

Thor let out a boisterous guffaw. “You are not wrong, little one. The fears of an Asgardian prince are perhaps not like the fears of a Midgardian child. You may one day understand that they’re not too different either.” Steve noticed that Thor did that sometimes. He would say two conflicting things, but it sounded entirely true nonetheless. Steve supposed it came from the wisdom of his years. “With great power comes great responsibility,” the god summarized.

Peter looked filled with awe at the statement. He was so lucky to have so many cool aunts and uncles. Who else at school could say they had a god as an uncle? “Uncle Bruce, would you go next, please?”

Bruce stood in front of them all, fidgeting a little. Bruce didn’t talk about his childhood. Ever. They all had vague ideas about his history, but even Natasha hadn’t read about it in his SHIELD file. She normally valued knowing people over their privacy, but Bruce was so private and meek, it just felt wrong to pry. The scientist pulled his glasses off, wiped them with his shirt, put them back on. He glanced between Steve and Tony a few times before locking eyes with Tony. “Are you okay with me talking about my childhood with him?” he asked quietly.

Tony was the only one that knew. Bruce didn’t open up much, and had only shared small snippets with Tony in the strange twilight hours of long nights together in the lab. They came when the two were heavily sleep deprived, and usually after Tony had revealed something painful about his own childhood. Tony was deeply honoured to be in Bruce’s trust, but he still didn’t feel like he knew as much about Bruce as Bruce did about him.

The rest of the room watched them with baited breath. Even Peter seemed to pick up on the privacy of the moment and held his tongue. Tony held his best friend’s gaze. He had no issue with Peter hearing these things, his son had unfortunately heard worse. Wade Wilson’s past was pretty terrible, and the two of them seemed to attract all the children from broken homes at school. Tony liked to assume it was Peter’s amazing kindness that brought the saddest children to his side, seeking comfort. The kid’s heart was so pure and giving. Tony was only worried about Bruce. “Only if you’re okay to talk about it,” he answered eventually.

Another tense moment past before Bruce made up his mind. He sat down on the floor, smiling at Peter. “Is it alright if I sit while I tell my story, honey?” In response, Peter extricated himself from his parents’ laps and sat next to Bruce, locking their hands together. Peter gave him an encouraging smile. Bruce kept the tiny hand in his and his eyes on Peter’s through the whole story. It was so intimate, and Steve’s heart swelled. His family was so perfect.

“Well, I’m not sure how to start,” Bruce admitted quietly. “I guess I should start by tell you that not everyone should have children.” Peter nodded gravely. “My father was not a good man. At least, not while I knew him. My mother was far too good for him, and he knew it.” Bruce took a steadying breath. Peter’s hand in his gave him the strength to go on. He could do this.

“My mother, Rebecca, loved me very much. I was the center of her universe, and sometimes it made it easy to forget that my father was there on the sidelines. If we focused enough on each other, it was like we could enter our own little pretend world, where he didn’t harm us. We both feared him. If he came home smelling of booze, she would try to hide me away fast enough that only she would get a taste of his wrath, but it rarely worked.

“You see, Brian, that was his name, Brian thought he loved my mother. I’m not so sure he knew what love was. In truth, Brian loved to own her. She was his wife and that meant she was supposed to adore him. So when my mother loved me, showed me that love, he was furious. The jealousy consumed him more than his alcoholism. Brian hated me because in his eyes, I stole his wife’s attention from him. I don’t think Brian ever showed me a single ounce of kindness, only hate. He beat me bloody and told me how much he wished I had never been born, how much I didn’t deserve his Rebecca.”

“He was wrong,” Peter whispered without thinking.

Bruce smiled sadly. “Yes, he was. I luckily had my mother’s love and her cousin’s love to counter that hate. They made sure I knew that his hatred had never been my fault.” He sighed, and Steve thought he had never looked so old and worn. “Nevertheless, I feared him. One night, my mother and I packed up some bags, and were going to escape. Brian, in a drunken rage, he killed my mother.” Peter gasped. “I watched him beat her to death in the driveway, too afraid to do anything. He ended up in a mental facility and the last I ever saw him was when I testified against him in court. Brian was my only childhood fear, but I also never faced it. Peter, I,” he cut himself off. The room was deafeningly silent. “I don’t tell you this easily, and it’s not just to show how scared I was as a child.

“I was about your age when it happened. It’s okay to be afraid, but I never stopped, and that’s where I want you to be different. My unfaced fears became anxiety and fear of a lot of things around me. The only way I found comfort was not in my mother’s cousin who raised me after the murder, but in my imaginary friend ‘Hulk.’ Hulk was fearless and angry like I wished I was, and he could handle all of my fears for me. I depended on this figment of my imagination all the way into adulthood. So when the accident happened, and I got the Other Guy, it shouldn’t have surprised me. I made him.”

Peter wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck. They hugged, tight. No one had anything they could say to a revelation like that. Tony had no regrets in letting Bruce tell the tale, and Steve was glad for it. Peter had recently been more curious about the Other Guy and how that could be his Uncle Bruce at the same time. Neither of them felt capable of explaining the ideas of repressed anger that Bruce encompassed, but Bruce had explained it beautifully and in a way an eight year old could still understand. “I love you and the Other Guy, Uncle Bruce,” Peter spoke fiercely. He pulled back from the scientist’s arms, smiling at him brightly. “You are him and he is you. I love all of you.”

Everyone was sniffling at this point. How could they not? Peter stood there, clueless to how much they were all admiring him. “Uncle Phil!” he singsonged. It was so at odds with the mood of the room, that it broke the tension. Steve could feel them all shift, changing focus and allowing the stifling emotions to dissipate. “Your turn!”

Coulson spoke the same way he gave mission reports and debriefings. Clint was grinning at the man the entire time, snickering occasionally, and Phil was expertly ignoring the man. “I’m not nearly as interesting,” he started, all dry humour and sarcasm. “I was afraid of Bloody Mary as a kid. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.” Peter nodded in agreement. He and Wade had already tried to summon her several times before JARVIS explained that it was only an urban legend. “My older sister had me convinced that her friend at school had been killed by her. She even made a fake newspaper article and obituary. My whole family got in on it. I was terrified. I didn’t successfully make it through her name three times until I was sixteen. They haven’t let me live it down to this day.”

Peter clapped and laughed before a yawn overtook him. “Thank you guys, I loved it!” He looked at Steve. “I promised I’d go to bed, so, I gotta go.” The rascal even made it as far as the hallway before Steve caught up to him, scooping up the squealing bundle.

“I think you’re forgetting one of the people in the room.” He began walking back to the group, meeting Tony’s amused expression equally.

Peter shook his head. “Nope! Daddy’s not afraid of anything.”

Tony stretched with an exaggerated yawn. “You heard the kid, I have no fears!” His shit-eating grin was begging for a smack. Peter giggled gleefully, enjoying their little collaboration.

“Oh really?” Steve cocked a brow at Tony, smirking. “Fearless Tony Stark-Rogers never needs my comfort again, huh?”

Tony stuck his tongue out. “Yeah!”

“I don’t think so, mister,” Steve made sure to put on his stern Papa voice. “This was your idea, you can finish it up.”

Tony scrunched up his nose, never able to deny that voice. Steve knew it, too, and really, Tony should be glad that the man didn’t abuse the power. “Fine, fine. I’ll go.” He stood to face the crew. If only Peter weren’t here, he’d make something meaningless up. But everyone had been so honest, and his son deserved the truth from him. “I never had to worry about money, or being sickly, or believing in superstitions, or leading worlds for that matter.” Tony allowed time for the chuckles. He was nothing if not a showman. “Being born a Stark prodigy, normal childhood fears and wants were just not a consideration. I can relate to the abusive father bit, though I didn’t fear Howard. If anything, I pitied him.

At first, I thought I was afraid of alcohol. I thought maybe it was the reason my father could be so cruel. But even then, I wasn’t afraid of it. I merely hated my father for succumbing to it. If I could drink it as a four year old and not be so mean, then clearly my dad must just be weak.” He glanced over at the minibar against his will. “No, I didn’t fear alcohol either.”

Tony began pacing. “What kept me up at night and fed my nightmares, well it was far spookier.” He quirked a lopsided smile at his son. Peter was watching him carefully. He was enjoying the show, but he knew his dad well enough to know that Tony was only pretending to be blasé. His dad was going to tell him something important, and Peter would hang on every word like usual.

“I was afraid of myself.” Clint snorted, and Natasha smacked him. “Yeah, I know how it sounds, but I was. No matter how many times I went over the data, the only conclusion I could come to that could explain why I had no friends and not even my parents loved me was that I was wrong. Something was wrong with me. I shouldn’t exist, I must be an abomination. And it frightened me.

I was afraid that I could never be good either. If I was so utterly unloveable and wrong to begin with, how could I get better? I tried lots of ways to be different, to just be someone else other than the loathsome Anthony Edward Stark, but I always came back terrifyingly me.” He frowned, trying to think of the words to make this make more sense. “The way I saw it, I suppose, was that there was two of me. There was the one doing the thinking and the feeling, and there was the scary other that somehow always ruined it for me. And I didn’t know how to get rid of him.” He shrugged. “Whelp, time for bed!”

“What!?” Peter and Clint yelled in unison. “You can’t leave it there,” Clint continued. “There’s no resolution! What kind of story telling is that!?”

“Yeah!” Peter agreed enthusiastically.

Tony threw his hands up. “Well I don’t know! I don’t have a resolution. That was my childhood fear, I answered the question!”

Peter shook his head. “Fine, I’ll finish for you!” Peter stood in front of Tony, mimicking the man’s body language. He cleared his throat. Tony was thrilled to see where this was going. “So I kept trying to run away,” Peter tried to make his voice deep. Tony’s grin was so wide it hurt. They were all laughing silently, watching the scene unfold. Peter was so cute it was hard to remember the subject matter. “I got in trouble,” Peter gave up on doing the voice. “I made friends while pretending to be not Tony. All me new friends thought I was fun and all party, but I knew the real me. The scary other.” Tony suddenly felt kind of cold. Was he so transparent that an eight year old could read him like this? He had never wanted Peter to be the one teaching everyone else how to be. It was his job to teach Peter, but he often found himself learning more than teaching.

“It was only when I finally let some people meet the real me, and found that they didn’t run away screaming, that I began to face my fear. If Uncle Rhodey, I mean Rhodey, wasn’t scared of me, then why should I be scared of me. So then I realized I was actually awesome and cool, and I met Steve who was also awesome, and we fell in love and lived happily ever after!” Peter finished big, raising his fists in a victorious stance. Tony stood in shock behind him while the rest of his family erupted into applause.

“Bravo!” Thor shouted.

“Now that’s resolution!” Clint agreed.

Peter turned to grin up at his dad. He snatched the man’s hand, and began dragging him towards his room. “Now come tuck me in, Daddy.” Tony let himself be led away, looking back at Steve with his face frozen in shock. Steve only smiled at them.

When Tony finally joined Steve in bed, he shuddered, letting the tears fall. Steve sat up, glad when JARVIS turned up the lights without being asked. “Peter hit a little too close to home?” Steve asked, pulling Tony into his arms. Tony didn’t respond, but nodded into his husband’s chest. Steve let him cry for a little longer. “He was right, y’know.”

Tony pulled away and eyed the blond with disbelief. Steve wasn’t having it, though. “No really, Tony, he was. Look at all the awesome people who love you. If you were so abhorrent, then either we’ve all lost it, or kid you got it wrong. Now which do you think is more likely?”

Tony made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I’m still not convinced you haven’t all lost it.”

Steve chuckled a little as well, pulling Tony down with him to lie down. “Maybe it’s a little of both,” he admitted happily. JARVIS lowered the lights again, and the two men held each other until they fell asleep.